#but i just want to chill and enjoy the day

[swaqcenix]

༻ Stardust of your soul | N. Romanoff ༺

Natasha Romanoff x gn!reader

Summary: Being new to SHIELD and it's agents you'd always kept yourself to yourself & hovered in the background. Yet a new chapter opens up when being invited to the compound for 'team bonding,' and it turns out another star shined just as you did without even knowing. Simply the trust to fall asleep on another's lap really does open up the deepest of souls.

Warnings: None! Just pure fluff & sentiment of how Natasha falls asleep on your lap..

Pairings: Natasha romanoff x gn!reader, sort of black cat x golden retriever (ish?)

Word Count: 3.8K

DC: cafekitsune

AN: I don't know where I got this idea from, but I wanted to get back to writing again, so I figured some soft reading of Natasha falling asleep on the reader's lap by accident would cut it! <3 Might make a P2!

(also if ppl can teach me how to get a sapphic relationship-)

Walking through the halls of the building always seemed daunting when you worked for SHIELD. It wasn't like you feared anyone there, just everyone was so equipped and skilled- they'd been there for a good chunk of time. Many beginning their journey's with SHIELD years before yourself, forming bonds and friendships.

You were merely a baby taking their first steps within the walls of SHIELD headquarters, simply learning the ropes & where to start. Still, you were eager to always take on a challenge and being accepted as a SHIELD agent wasn't something you'd expect to happen, yet changing that decision to take on the role wasn't even a consideration for you.

A simple few weeks at the headquarters was all it took for you to slowly begin to feel more comfortable with the said environment. You'd spoken to Maria Hill the Deputy Director of SHIELD and while she could be intimidating, she and yourself shared views similar making it easy to get on. Fury was a little more on the complex side but some of the other agents you'd definitely enjoyed bonding with.

You'd been called in to a meeting for god knows what, but that was the generalised idea these days. Most agents yourself included never seemed to be informed prior of your missions only simply assigned upon the day. It did albeit stress you out given your organised schedule and how you felt with being thrown into the deepest ends of the pool was stressful.

However, when you dedicated your time and complete energy and effort within SHIELD's walls and work you had to be prepared for anything, without fail. You'd found yourself being so lost in thought with how you'd ended up in this role and position that you'd realised you'd come to a halt.

Seeing the door to Fury's office was a surprise to your eyes, having not realised you'd walked all that way. Slowly bracing yourself, your hand reached for the door handle before it was pulled open and Nick Fury himself stood there in the flesh.

"Come on in," His voice that always sent chills down your spine seemed warmer than usual today.

It did strike you as odd but you hardly had the time to think more of it. Instead you simply merely nodded entering the room at a gentle pace, before your shoes caused a loud squeak of a sudden stop.

Your eyes glanced around the room to see people you hardly ever thought you'd be in the same room with. The Avengers, the actual known hero's themselves sat around a table as their eyes slowly drifted up to study you.

Tony, Steve, Clint, Thor, Natasha, Bruce, Wanda, Rhodey & Sam. All of them were waiting for your arrival.

Natasha let out a soft smile at you nodding an approving look, which didn't surprise you at all. You'd become accustomed to the redhead while at SHIELD given her status and her ability to train new recruits which yourself was in fact one of them.

You'd never quite been able to read her fully, only knowing she had a closed off position about her, including the past everyone was forbidden to know of. All the recruits and fellow agents knew that it was a road nobody dared cross, including interacting with the redhead outside of working hours.

Standing there waiting for Fury or anyone to say something felt like an agonising amount of time & it was making the clock feeling like minutes were passing by. In reality, it was most likely to be mere seconds before Fury coughed and began to fill the silent room with his voice.

"So Y/N.. There's been some form of talk amongst myself and the Avengers," he began and you felt your body froze.

Without the intention of doing so, you glanced over at Natasha with concern and worry glazed over your eyes. Nobody else would recognise the small but clear look she gave to you, it was something you'd come to somewhat understand. She gave you a curt but firm nod and her eyes softened only for a moment but that moment was enough. It was okay.

You felt your shoulders and body language relax a tad as you nodded towards Director Fury to continue his conversation.

"We feel that.. we need a new member to work with the Avengers. Think of it as a new position a higher role. One that we thought you'd fit most well into. More like a team bonding so you'd say."

You gawked at the older man before shaking your head back to reality as it sunk into your brain and your bones. He thought you were the best for the role? You as in just someone from a town that had nothing now working along side the Avengers, more specifically her.

"M-Me? What, there has to be some sort of mistake. Director I don't know if I-" You began stuttering over your words.

While you did admire your strengths and abilities, it was a big step to be working with the earth's mightiest hero's. You certainly didn't want to make a fool out of yourself, however Fury decided to interrupt you.

"All due respect Y/L/N, it wasn't really a request. We need you on the team. The mission that's required is going to need all the assets and best that we've got. It's important," he stated firmly looking around the room at the Avengers before moving his gaze back to you.

"Director I-"

"They'll be trained and ready. I'll make sure of it," you heard her voice echo through the room with determination.

Your eyes drifted around the room landing onto her, staring at Natasha in pure shock and partial annoyance. You knew your own weaknesses and strengths and didn't need anyone speaking for you.

However, she simply stared back at you with a firm all serious look showing she wasn't backing down. Why was she so fixated on having you on the team? Her eyes changed ever so slightly and only for a moment looking at you with something you couldn't quite place. However, in a small blink just a tiny moment the look disappeared and her normal stoic expression was back.

"Thank you Agent Romanoff. Anything anyone else has to add?" He asked looking around the room with sheer authority.

Nobody seemed to speak, Tony flamboyantly flapping his hands up to speak for them. Clearly they weren't against having you on the team, you must be some important asset they required. With nobody speaking, you were all dismissed and the Avengers all fluttered out of the room.

All except one. Natasha stood leaning against the wall, half slouching her gaze fixated onto you. Head tilted in an almost questioning way towards you. Mirroring the action, you stared at the redhead inquisitive facial expressions painted on both of your faces.

Natasha cracked first, shifting off the wall walking towards you with her hands in her pockets, her signifying black leather jacket around her shoulders.

"You know, you should have more belief in yourself Y/N. We both know your abilities, I've witnessed them myself," she added her eyebrow arching.

"I.. You think so?" You managed to get out slowly.

Without a warning she leaned forward, whispering in your ear causing your body to stiffen. With her being this close you could smell her perfume, invading your senses like a warm blanket alluring you and drawing you in. The proximity of her was sending heat to your face and you knew her voice was sending shivers down your body.

"I know so sweetheart, I know so," she hushed out and if the floor was made of lava you'd melt right through it and into the ground beneath you.

Natasha was like a temptress, a woman who knew how to lull people in just with a few simple words. You knew this but still felt yourself floating towards the singing of the siren.

She stepped back smirking at you sending you a wink causing your heart to hammer against your chest. It was like she was looking into the depths of your soul and you were trying not to give her the key to opening your soul.

Just before she opened the door to exit the room she flung her body around to face you at an angle. The tension in the room was intense, dancing around you in a heavy feeling as she spoke.

"Training starts at 7. Don't be late sweetheart. I don't do late."

With that she left the room without allowing yourself to respond and you felt an internal groan bubbling inside of you. She was seeing into your soul now you needed to try and allow Natasha to let you see her own.

Tossing and turning at night in your bed whilst the minutes passed by seemed to be what was happening for you. The clock was ticking yet you were significantly restless especially knowing training started at 7am with Natasha wouldn't settle your mind to rest.

Her words played over and over again in your head, on a constant never ending loop. 'I know so sweetheart.' You couldn't remember the last time you had that much confidence running within your veins, let alone someone else. Yet, her voice ran through your mind, your soul almost touched by her belief.

Turns out you must have been laying there for that long tossing and turning throughout the night you'd managed to not succumb to a single ounce of sleep. That perhaps would come back to be biting you on the ass at some point today. Especially if you have training with Natasha.

As your head spun to view the clock next to the nightstand, elicting a loud groan from your lips. It read the time of 6:15AM. That's always your luck, never helping with the concept of you being the polar opposite of a morning person. If anyone was grouchy in the morning it would always be yourself.

Flinging the covers off yourself, grudgingly, you found your legs dragging themselves to the bathroom to have a shower, the need to freshen and wake up becoming excruciatingly stronger by the minute.

The water cascaded down your body, a soft sigh leaving your lips. It warmed you up within the speed of light, relaxing your current running thoughts, muscles relaxing slightly. Taking a shower has always reassured your senses with its water-hug, warm and cozy.

As you dressed for the training, you slipped out of the room deciding to take a small detour around the compound. The passing of Agents in the corridor, seemingly more professional and adjusted to the surroundings of the compound than yourself.

It almost made you shrink into yourself, wanting to knock your confidence. However, Natasha's words from the previous day replayed in your head on repeat, warning your insides for reasons unexplained.

Almost as if by sheer luck you'd past the main lounge of the compound where a few of the known Avengers seemed to be sitting around. That included, Tony, Steve, Wanda and Clint. As if your presence was like a dark shadow lingering into the room, all of their heads seemed to twist into your direction.

One thing you despised being more than anything is being the centre of all attention, eyes gazing on you like you'd become to be on a stage you weren't supposed to take. It bought bile rising from the depths of your stomach up at the mere concept of it.

Yet, their gazes lingered in a none judgmental way, almost like the comfort of understanding, an overwhelming sense but peaceful. Steve was the first to speak up, nodding at you firmly but not with an intensity of malice.

"If you're after the training room, it's just down the hall. Natasha's waiting for you there. Good luck, just believe in yourself."

With a curt, but gentle nod you headed to the training room giving your best definition of a half smile. Though, it probably looked more like a grimace, unintentionally of course.

As you entered the training room, Natasha was working on her punching exercises. Each one better than the last. The glimmer of sweat trickling down her cheeks and side of her hair, shone like water in the moonlight. For a moment you almost stopped to admire her.

However, you'd clearly being staring too long considering, when you came out of your dazed trance, Natasha stood smirking at you. Her head was now tilted to the side, her crimson hair braided and cascading down her shoulders. Immediately you flushed, a sudden realisation you'd been watching her working out, like some puppy in awe of the smallest of things.

"See something that you like?" Her voice carried huskily, but with a hint of a smirk lingering causing your knees to weaken.

Why she was having this effect on you, you'd never know. Part of yourself wished the feeling would vanish, disappearing like particles of atoms into the air. Dust vanishing away, yet another piece of you thrilled for the unknown drawn, the tranquility you felt. It felt exhilarating, the need for an escape.

As your eyes drifted around the room you realised just how much equipment had been invested within the 4 walls. Several different types of equipment were laid out in different selections, ranging from treadmills to yoga mats, leg presser's, even a shooting target range.

"N-No sorry I-" You stuttered still trying to distract your gaze to anything but at the redhead whose smirk had now grown wider.

The pair of you trained for a while, Natasha teaching you combat, which albeit you weren't as talented as herself. Several times she's managed to knock you down and pin you to the ground. Which, just happened to always end up with you looking up at her both your bodies in an extraordinary comprising position.

Natasha, on the other hand never judged you. Her skills and assets were on a scale of unbelievable, making you feel as tiny as an ant. Yet, the redhead never made you feel smaller than herself. She always seemed to root for the best in you, causing you to admire her as the minutes passed on.

"You've got more talent than you know," her voice whispered during the last training session.

Her voice sent a small shiver through your body shooting down your spine, as though a melody yet to be sang was ready to be heard. A soft nod a content true smile painted your lips setting a thousand suns alight.

"Thank you, Romanoff," your voice responded a little stronger than prior.

"Hey to you, it's Natasha."

A soft giggle passed your lips and she smiled, a rare one you could have sworn in the short time including familiarities of SHIELD, had never seen cross her lips before.

"it's like before when you were training me isn't it?" You asked your mouth speaking before your brain.

She simply nodded with a hum, putting herself once again in a position of combat causing you to follow suit. Her hair was now slick with sweat, but yours was drenched. Almost as if you'd been training the whole day, yet in reality it was a simple couple of hours.

"Exactly like before. Just harder and with stronger combat skills and assets."

Before you knew it, the pair of you were back at it. Training like you'd done the several times previously. Your skills had improved remarkably. How you didn't know, perhaps it was her words and further encouragement. Her sense of purpose that brought tranquility to you an ideology of lack of judgment.

One minute you were slightly stumbling and within the blink of an eye, you had her pinned. It was like the world had stopped, her own eyes had widened in shock, your body freezing as though ice had embedded itself within your veins, shocking every atom inside you.

The Natasha Romanoff, had been pinned down onto the floor with you hovering over her. A huge sense of achievement fell over you, a joyful relief that you had finally believed something within your bones for so long.

She felt it too, winking with no insult or any sort of ruined pride. Natasha merely looked and presented herself in a way that ran through to the pit of your stomach.

You scrambled off her slightly embarrassed as reality began to hit you, considering the positions you were currently in. Helping her up, Natasha stood there hands on her hips for a moment analysing you, but for once no feeling of unease overcame you.

"Told you could do it sweetheart," she said wiping her head with a towel.

If words could make your body melt into a puddle, like snow in the winter. You would have right there. Like an icicle on a tree branch waiting for its calling of life that's how you felt. Glistening but melting into bliss.

Natasha headed towards the door, her black tank top sticking to her in a way that was sheer attractive to practically everyone undeniably. Her abs could practically be seen through the material, causing your eyes to look up towards the ceiling scolding every part of your brain.

"Oh and, same time tomorrow," Natasha stated her voice carrying a tinge of something unplaced that caused you to look up at her. Yet she's disappeared through the door before anything more could be thought of it.

That's how it continued. The form of relationship building between yourselves, training continuing everyday. Your combat becoming stronger, fighting harder each time, not only did your skills improve but also your mindset. It began to light up your moments like a firefly, shining thousands of miles into you lighting up a hope in the sky.

There were times Natasha beat you, earning a playful comment from her lips.

"Gotta be faster than that honey," she'd husk out in that voice of hers.

Yet, you never stopped enjoying your training moments, the building of an established unknown. The way you and Natasha formed was rare, unseen and unbecoming, but there was no regret. No simple doubt that you enjoyed the form of relationship the pair of you had formed.

One morning your alarm clock went off once more, 6:15AM on the dot. Making no time to convince yourself to fall back into a peaceful depth of slumber you headed to the shower. Getting ready fast in the morning had become the new norm for you.

You'd managed to get changed at the speed of light hopping around to get into your gym wear. Just as you were about to leave F.R.I.D.A.Y spoke up warning you.

"Excuse me Y/N, I was informed to let you know most of the Avengers got called out for an emergency mission. You were called to go on it but, Miss Romanoff debated otherwise."

Your heart sank, upset slightly about the lack of training. You'd become quite accustomed to the way of life in the morning, training with Natasha before amusing yourself for the remainder of the day. However, it sank further when she mentioned Natasha stated she didn't want you there.

Were you not qualified enough? Would you ever be? Your mind spiralled around with overwhelming and overthinking thoughts, like a tornado sweeping through miles of countryside. No, you couldn't do this to yourself again.

The entire day became yourself training practically with little to no breaks, until the very darkness of night emerged the atmosphere, clicking your brain into knowledge.

Taking your last shower felt less like a privilege and more like a burden. Something undeserving, especially when you're clearly not welcome on missions. However, you knew you needed it.

Eventually you'd changed into some warmer fuzzier lounge wear, settling on some grey jumpsuit. It allowed you to feel more relaxed. The feeling sent you into a deep slumber, curled into the couch in a content creation.

A form half leaning on your body caused you to almost jolt awake, but you heard a whisper next to you. For a mere few seconds your surroundings became an enemy, training become reality. Yet, as your eyes adjusted to the light around you an awareness grew within you.

The Avengers were sat down around you, watching some random Christmas film you presumed Sam chose considering the choice. Clint was sat a few feet away glancing at you contently.

"You'll wake her," he mumbled his voice lower than usual that caused an unprovoked raised eyebrow from yourself.

Following his gaze, your heart pounded harder, eyes widening in a sudden surprise. Natasha was lying on your shoulder, her body almost slipping towards your lap. She seemed more at ease than Natasha ever had before.

Like the weight of a thousand worlds, a thousand men had been lifted by one single sleep. No, a single person. You. Her hair was now loose, drifting down her shoulders, making her look almost incredibly soft and it melted every aspect of you.

"She seems exhausted," you murmured without thinking.

"She took the most hits. I know what you were thinking. Natasha she.. She didn't want you on that mission, because she didn't want you hurt. Not because she doubts your capabilities. All I could see was her guilt and want to be back training with you."

Clint's confession and confirmation sent a warmth unexplainable feeling through you. Looking deeper at Natasha, you noticed the cuts and bruises. The winces when the redhead shifted in her sleep. A shatter through your heart came hard, one you had no idea was possible as you glanced softly at the older woman.

She cared. Natasha stirred slightly her eyes fluttering glancing up at you. Her eyes met yours and in that moment it unlocked everything and anything possible. It's said eyes are window's to one's soul. The key to unlocking everything about a person there was to be done.

Glancing at her emerald eyes all you saw was stardust, the pain of stars shimmering thousands of light years away trying to find their way back. She smiled weakly, trying to pull away. However, instead you adjusted Natasha to rest her head on your lap.

A frozen form hit your lap, tense in shock before fully relaxing into your hold. A soft hum left her lips and without thinking you began to caress her hair, bringing her to a warmth blanket of safety.

"She's never like that, looks like you're something," Clint mumbled smirking causing you to roll your eyes.

Natasha wasn't just an assassin, nor an Avenger. Sure you had no doubt words would be interestingly mentioned later when she awoke. Yet for now, as you had previously gazed into her eyes, all you saw was the stars of light wanting a home. Stroking her hair was like touching the star's of the soul itself, no matter the distance they'd always have somewhere or someone to go to.

[gem-de-lune]

Daily Vibe Check 11/26

To lighten the daily read load but still ensure I get to everyone, i will be reading on 1 Riize member daily, and Seunghan every other day or just if something with him shifts significantly. I will do Riize collective reads every other day that I'm not doing a Seunghan Read. So today it is Seunghan + Sohee and then an SM read i found in my asks. Tmw it will be Riize collective + Any other member + something relevant to current topics or asks. Hope that makes sense.

Seunghan

Knight of Chalices + King of Wands + 6 of Wands

Honestly bro is just chilling right now...lowkey this is his card when he is at his most neutral/leaning positive state. Very charming very vibey. He seems to be cheeky lately. He is doing well. I asked about how he felt about Rolling Loud in Thailand, and he responded with the King right there. He's feeling very very high up about the ordeal. Rather than being the King, he sees Briize as the King, and him gathering his graces and motivation to push gorwards simply by watching. There are a lot of fond and just overall respectful and "in awe" emotions attached here. To the point where he may wonder if it is overbearing for others (cough OT6 cough) leading me to believe he may have seen their distainful reactions. Nonetheless it wasn't enough to erase his positive feelings on the matter. He really feels like he should bow down in gratitude lmfao.

When I had asked if he had contacted members recently i got the 6 of Wands, which is a yes signally a positive and celebratory? Chat. Therefore, it is probably around or on Taro's birthday they spoke.

One thing of note that I and maybe many have noticed is that Taro seems the most standoffish out of all the members regarding this entire situation from the start. This is true-ish deep down. I pulled another card to clarify the 6 of wands, which made everything I already knew click into place for me- but I accidentally reshuffled it in my deck and I do not remember exactly what card it was- but I know it fully cleared this up for me so I will share the explaination I came to here:

Taro doesn't really know how to deal with negative situations. At all. He acts as if they do not exist unless he must face them. He is not good with them. He will spiral out of control and doesn't know how to work through those things properly, so he believes the most mature thing is to not engage to begin with. Therefore, it was very awkward for him to try and contact Seunghan directly. He does not know what to say. He has been avoiding it even if he also believes he was wronged and is still OT7. He is the most awkward member about this. I do believe that Seunghan mayhaps reached out during his birthday, and this relationship is starting to mend again. Wanted to share bc this makes me sad and happy.

Sohee

The World + 6 of Chalices + 2 of Pentacles

Sohee is generally feeling really good, maybe like something has been completed to an extent sucessfully. I think, tbh that he is glad to be home lmfao, but he really enjoyed the adventure. That sort of feeling. Since people were asking, I decided to ask if he had really smiled and nodded at the Riize is 7 banners at Rolling Loud, to which I pulled 6 of Chalices. This is a yes, it made him think of some other memories- so since that is the case I really think he may be referring to Madrid, which is funny bc Briize were saying he was grinning just like he did back then!

I then asked him how he thought things were progressing for Seunghan's return, to which I got 2 of Pentacles. Things are still being prepared and there's not a clear answer at the moment. This question led me into the next few things we will discuss regarding SM.

SM

Knight of Pentacles + 8 of Swords + Knight of Wands + Queen of Wands

Generally, there is a lot of turmoil here. Careful planning and preparation, but its almost like one team is like "let's do this now, this is stupid and we need to act now" and the other is like "why do we have to do that? I don't wanna". One side wants to do as they have always done, and the other side is younger and more open-minded, wanting to avoid disaster due to refusal to adapt. The older side sees this as reckless, the younger side sees the older as lazy and slow. It is very tough, and they are at odds. I will come back to this energy a bit later.

8 of Wands + 2 of Chalices + 10 of Wands

Someone asked if SM was making a decision regarding Seunghan this week. Pulled 8 of Wands and 2 of Chalices. Yes?? I think they 100% have the intention to do so. But with the 10 of wands as the outcome I think that whatever outcome it is it will be while before it is released, and whatever it is will be due to a lot of pressure being put on SM. So I advise that OT7 really make sure to keep laying it on as thick as possible as this will affect the outcome.

Bottom of Deck:

8 of Chalices + 5 of Wands

The theme here is still a lot of conflict. One side will need to grow mature enough to give up their stance. Whoever gives in first wins.

Final Notes:

Mainly, what I wanna speak on is the energy SM is feeling right now. I made a transit reading when Pluto went into Aquarius that discussed what tf is going on with SM lately and what will be going on for the next few years. I will link it HERE (for twt users, i will link in the twt)

Other than that, again, keep spreading the truth and laying on the pressure here. We are approaching a kind of finale situation rather soon. Or at least some news regarding such. Note that even if we win, we may not KNOW right away. We may not know 100% until closer to a CB. I hope not, but it's certainly possible. So please keep doing what you're doing, and do not give in!!

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

I have a little request if that’s alright😊

Could you possibly do a like fluffy aftercare fic with Rhys? Like I love the smut but sometimes that really fluffy aftercare with him checking in on you and making sure you are okay is even better. Him getting a bath ready and helping you clean up and him feeding you.

Basically what I’m trying to say is fluffy smut with fluffy aftercare is delicious lol

I absolutely love your Rhys fics!!! I’m DEVOURING Love and War and just your Rhys fics on general lol

I hope you’re taking care of yourself and have a great day sweetheart💜💜

I love requests! Send as many as you like! <3 Rhys doesn't get enough love so I've decided to roll up my sleeves and put out as many fics as possible and it makes me so happy to see other people enjoying them as much as me! I hope you like this one! <3

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Vacation Days

It's the crackling of logs in the fireplace that awakens you; the hiss of flames and the hint of pine that perfumes the air a gentle alarm clock that makes you roll over onto your side to peer out the window to see how early in the morning it is. The sky is still gray, though it could be the encroaching storm clouds that darken the sky and not the time.

You drag the heavy, fur lined blanket up over your head and bury your face in the pillow. Whatever the case, it's too early! And you're too comfortable to get up.

The bed dips beside you, blankets shifting as another body climbs into the mountain of furs needed to keep out the deep Illyrian chill. Strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you flush against a very bare, and very icy chest.

You give a little squeak of discomfort as your mate tosses a leg around your waist, effectively trapping you against his body.

"Rhhhhyyyyssssss," you whine, voice still thick with sleep.

He kisses the top of your head, hands soothing down your back, even as the deep baritone of his laugh rumbles through his chest. "Morning, love."

"No morning. Sleep." You grumble, burying your head in his tattooed chest and squeezing your eyes shut. "We're on vacation. I'm sleeping."

The hand on your back trails lower, until he can, teasingly, give your ass a squeeze. "I can think of a few other activities we could be doing in this bed for our vacation."

In the early morning haze, your shields are completely down, and he slips right into your mind with the ghost of a caress, filling your head with images of your running your tongue along his body, tracing tattoo and muscle as he guides you onto his lap, letting you ride him slowly, leisurely, taking your time until you're both a mess. You can taste the tang of salt from the sweat that clings to his bare skin, hear those soft, breathy moans you love to drag out of him as you roll your hips over his, taking him deeper into your tight heat. Despite your desperate attempts to cling to sleep, heat pools in your lower belly.

"Rhys," you warn.

His other hand slips beneath your nightgown, dragging sensual fingers along your spine as his lips drop to your shoulder and leave slow, deliberate kisses along your exposed flesh.

"I'm not doing anything," he lies, the image he crafts shifting to him rolling you onto your back, his head between your legs, tongue lapping against your center, warm and wet in contrast to the bruising grip his hands keep on your thighs.

Your breath catches in your throat at the sight; you can practically feel him inside you already.

"You're a terrible liar," you retort. Especially when the proof of his own arousal is flush against your hips.

His teeth nip at the juncture of your neck and shoulder, his own hips rocking just enough that he can claim it’s an accident, even though you know it's not. You've been mated long enough now, you know his tells, can practically taste how much he wants you, even if he’s clever enough to tamper down on it through the bond so it doesn't blast you with the strength of it. Sometimes it still shocks you, just how much he wants you. You'd thought it would fade over time, had kept yourself up at night early in your relationship, convinced that eventually the High Lord of the Night Court would get bored having a simple little healer for a mate, but every day he calms those fears and shows you just how much he loves and wants you.

You can't help the little sigh that escapes you when he gets his lips on your throat, head tilting back reflexively to give him more access. Though your mind knows what it wants, your body moves on instinct, melting in his grip. This is as natural as breathing. The proximity of his body is calming, soothing the irritation of being woken up, filling your body with warmth.

His lips trail over your throat, along the underside of your jaw, warm breath caressing your quickly flushing skin, as he trails over your chin. He fills your mind with more images: You on your stomach, body flush with the mattress as his lips trail up your spine, hands caressing your bare skin in heated touches; the two of you in the shower, bodies slick with soap, caged against the damp stones and his chest, hips rutting leisurely into each other. Each image is a little more intense than the last, the bond flickering with the need he's been trying to hold at bay until you were more awake and ready for it.

You slide your hands over his bare chest, feeling the thundering beat of his heart against your palms as his lips finally slot over yours. Though he is more than ready for you, there is a leisurely pace to his movements; he knows he has time, days even, to have you. You'd come up to Illyria for a long weekend, and the Inner Circle is under strict orders to not contact either of you until you've returned to Velaris. Things have been tense in the city lately, Rhys' office cluttered with all the paperwork necessary to rebuild after the War with Hybern. Your little clinic has been full to the brim for weeks and weeks. Both of you have spent the better part of three months only seeing each other in passing before exhaustion pulls you into bed with little more than a kiss goodnight. You feel that lack of intimacy in his movements, in the way his body moves against yours. There is an air of desperation, only quelled with the knowledge that he can take his time with you.

And you with him. Fully awake now, your senses on alert, you are painfully aware of the ache between your legs. It's been too long. Far too long without this sort of intimacy. Your hands slide up his chest and shoulders, trailing until you can card your fingers through his hair.

He moans against your lips as you scrape your nails against his scalp. "Tell me..." his voice is a ragged, desperate thing, lips brushing with every word like he can't bear to drag himself any further away from your body. "Tell me to stop and I will."

Sleep is distant memory now, though you no longer mind it like you did a few minutes ago. You adjust the placement of your hips and manage to roll him onto his back, hips flush, his erection heavy and hot between your legs. You give your hips a little roll as you brace yourself on your elbows, brushing your chest against his as you lean down to kiss him once more.

"I've been convinced to get up," you tease.

His hands eagerly grip your hips, urging you to grind down on him as his tongue slips behind your teeth. Your bond hums appreciatively at the contact, the months of stress and separation slipping away.

"Although, I hope this doesn't become a habit of yours, you know I need my beauty sleep."

He releases his grip on your hips just long enough to find the hem of your nightgown and push it up and over your shoulders, letting the silken fabric fall somewhere in the pile of blankets you'd disturbed. Deft fingers trace the swell of your breasts, tweaking over nipples pebbled in the cool cabin air, before skimming back down your stomach until he can once again hold your hips.

"How could you possibly get any more beautiful than you already are?" He says, violet eyes tracing every bare inch of you, narrowing in on the lone piece of clothing separating you from him.

You kiss him again, trying to hide the blush that dusts your cheeks. You know he can feel it through the bond, know he knows just how much little things like that mean to you.

"So perfect," he murmurs, chasing after you when you break the kiss. You'd think you had starved him of affection for years on end with the way he keeps coming back, body shifting and rocking beneath you. Soft, little moans leave his lips every time you grind yourself a little harder against his cock, still separate from you by the thin layer of his sleep pants and your violet colored panties. You hadn't been paying too much attention to them when you'd changed last night, but the color and the little bow along the waistband are fitting now.

You try to pull away to rid him of his pants, too many layers between you, but he keeps you locked in place with a grip on your hips that's tight enough to leave a bruise.

"Want you out of these pants," you insist.

A small wave of his fingers has both your clothes disappearing into a random pocket realm for the time being, leaving his hands free to position the tip of his weeping cock against your entrance.

The first drag of his tip through your folds makes your head lull back, mouth falling open as you moan unabashedly. It has been far, far too long since you've been able to enjoy him like this.

"Look at my pretty girl, all ready for my cock," Rhys croons. "What was that about being tired, love?"

"Don't remember," you mumble, hands splaying across his chest to brace yourself as he slides into you an inch at a time.

He grins victoriously. "I've missed this."

It's always a bit of a stretch, taking all of him, especially after so long without him, but despite the desperation that claws down the bond at you, he takes his time, letting you adjust.

"Me too," you say, voice a breathless rasp as you try to find your bearings again. He's everywhere, filling you up so thoroughly you forget why you had reservations at all. You should have spent the whole night with him inside you, making up for lost time.

He's barely sheathed inside you before you start rocking your hips, forgoing all patience and chasing the pleasure that has started to build at the base of your spine. It's too much and not enough. Everything you need and yet not quite within reach yet.

He tuts at your neediness, holding you in place with a chuckle. "What's the rush, Darling?"

You gently drag your nails over the plains of his chest. Later, once the bond is satiated a little more, you'll take your time and run your tongue over every swirl of his tattoos. Let the dark ink lead you steadily down between his legs so you can take his glorious cock down your throat, but right now... right now the last three months are obvious in every coiled muscle of your body. You need him to move, hard and fast; to fill you up until the absence no longer feels like such a gaping wound.

"Move, please, Rhys," you beg.

He temporarily lets go of your hips so he can prop himself up on his elbows and kiss you properly, hips shifting upwards, cock driving deeper into your aching core.

You use the freedom to roll your hips, savoring the slight burn as he stretches you out further, body adjusting to his size. It's all a delicious torture you'll come back to time and time again.

You're not going to last very long at this rate, but there's no stopping your body from slowing down, from trying to savor it. The bond knows you still have days left to be slow. When he pulls out of the kiss, your lips automatically drop to his neck, kissing and sucking as many marks into his skin as you can.

One of his hands soothes down your back as the other goes back to your hip, helping you follow the quick pace of his thrusts as he slides almost all the way out of you and then right back in.

"So perfect," he purrs as he hits the spot inside of you that makes you see stars. Your natural reaction to the stimulation is to clamp your teeth down on his shoulder, and he lets out a groan that makes the coil in your belly even tighter. You love it when he's vocal for you, when he doesn't hold back the obvious sounds of his own enjoyment. Sometimes he gets too focused on your pleasure that he loses sight of his own.

Your bodies find a smooth rhythm, the headboard tapping the wall with the rocking motion of your bodies. The air filled with the sounds of your joining and the soft crackle of flames in the fire place. The flames cast your bodies in an orange halo, you trace the fractions of light across his bronze skin with your lips, just as his hands trace your skin.

His name falls from your lips like a prayer, chanted and recited like worship as your bodies meet over and over again. Stars blur across your vision, maybe from your mate, maybe from the bond, it is hard to tell at this point. Not that it matters, as long as the heat coiled in the base of your spine continues to spread and fill you.

Rhys' hand slips between your legs, rubbing tight circles into your dripping heat. He hums appreciatively at the wetness that spills down your thighs, coating his cock in a milky rings as he slides in and out of you.

"'m'close," you murmur into his neck, where you've left a darkening bruise with your teeth. He looks so pretty all marked up by you.

His thrusts stutter at your words, losing the rhythm for a moment as you feel the muscles in his abdomen tighten against your pelvis. "Let go, I've got you," he assures, lips dusting over yours. He won't be far behind.

His fingers rub circles against your clit, drawing that blissful edge closer and closer with every pass. Your breath stutters out of you, hips rocking without rhythm, trying to chase the white hot pleasure that licks up your spine.

His own motions chase after yours, finding the rhythm again, hitting the perfect spot inside you once, twice, and a third before your orgasm crests and washes over you. The clenching of your core around his aching cock drives him into his own release, hips stuttering as he fills you with his own release.

Your bodies slow their movements as you collapse on top of his chest, sticky with sweat and your joint release. His heartbeat slows, becoming steady against your cheek as he catches his breath, hands soothing down your back.

"Did so good for me," he coos, lips pressing soft kisses against the top of your head.

You let your eyes drift shut as you catch your breath, enjoying the warmth and comfort of his body as you come down from your high. The bond finally quiets, content for now, and you stroke a mental hand down it, letting him know just how much he means to you through it.

Once you've both come down from your highs, he rolls you over onto your side so he can slide out of you, lips gently caressing yours when you wince from the over-stimulation. "I'll be right back."

Even though you believe it, it's still a loss, the lack of warmth obvious from the moment he leaves the bed to fill the tub with water. You need him back in your arms immediately and you will not be soothed until it is so.

Like he knows this, he's back quickly, but instead of sliding back under the covers, he lifts you up into his arms and carries you to the bathroom, where the tub is full of bubbles and sweet, jasmine scented oils. He doesn't even try to let go of you, especially not when you have your face buried in his neck, just steps into the tub and settles you comfortably in his lap in the delicious heat of the tub.

A sigh escapes your lips as the heat licks up your aching muscles, body relaxing as you close your eyes again. Rhys' hands sooth up your sides, drawing simple patterns into your skin as he rests his head atop yours.

"Are you all right, Darling?"

You let your own fingers trace the water droplets that adorn his tattooed chest, movements leisurely and slow. You can take your time now. "Perfect."

He leans back against the tub with a hum of approval. A flick of his wrist makes the lights dim and candles along the counter flair to life, bathing the room in a soft glow that feels like it's made to match the flicker of starlight you feel dancing around the bridge between your souls.

"I've missed you," you say as you tilt your head back to look at him.

Rhys presses a kiss to your temple as his magic brings a matching set of champagne glasses and bottle to sit along the edge of the tub. "We've spent too long apart," he agrees as a shadow of his power moves to pour the champagne for him. "Let's definitely not make a habit of it."

You take the glass despite the bubbles that drip from your hands and tap it against his in toast. "Agreed."

To go with your drink, a plate of fruits and pastries appears, the later still warm, a curl of steam slipping out the sides. You raise a brow at him. "Whose oven are you pulling these out of?"

He grins as he takes a grape off the plate and offers it to you. "Maybe I made them before you woke up."

The fruit bursts in your mouth, but even the pleasant flavor isn't enough to distract you. "Darling, you are many things, but a pastry chef is not one of them."

"Fair enough," he concedes, bringing a strawberry to your lips this time.

After months of tending to so many other people, it is nice to have someone taking care of you. Your muscles relax further against his body, letting the gentle lapping of the water soothe any residual discomfort as he feeds you.

"I thought about making you something I could cook, but I didn't want to leave you alone that long. We only have so much time before we have to go back."

You take a sip of your champagne and reach for a croissant with chocolate dripping from the sides, but he snags it first and brings it within reach of your mouth for you.

"Maybe we should extend our vacation," you don't like the heaviness you feel when he sighs, not when you finally have a moment to not think about it. "Just for another day or two?"

He steals a bite of your croissant as he thinks about it.

"Amren can handle things for one more day," you suggest as you drag your fingers between the plains of his chest. "We've earned a vacation and more than our fair share of rest."

He leans down to kiss you gently. "That you have, Darling."

"Both of us," you press. "Besides, I didn't get out of our comfy bed for nothing, I think we still have some catching up to do."

Stars glitter in his violet eyes as he takes his glass from the edge of the tub and taps it against yours in another toast. "Yes we do."

[er1nne]

Own You

Pairing – coriolanus snow x black!reader Word Count? 9.3k Summary – What happens when you’re forced to confront the unsettling truths about your place in a world that feels both luxurious and inescapable? Tags: (18+), cw: mentions of suicidal thoughts (small part in the middle), dark!toxic!coriolanus, emotional manipulation, gaslighting, physical abuse? AN: This is my first time sharing my writing on Tumblr, so please ignore any typos. It hasn’t been proofread, but I hope you enjoy reading. Please let me Thank you! Do not reshare or use without giving me credit

The room was cold, the kind of cold that seeped into your skin and settled deep in your bones. The sharp scent of antiseptic stung your nose, sharp and cloying, almost like it was trying to suffocate 

The room was freezing, the chill creeping into my skin and settling deep in my bones, leaving me restless and uncomfortable. The sterile air smelled of antiseptic, sharp and chemical, clinging to the back of my throat in a way that made me want to gag. It was the kind of smell that had grown familiar over time but never less unpleasant, a constant reminder of the reason I was here. I perched on the edge of the examination table, its crinkly paper cover rustling beneath me every time I shifted. The noise felt deafening in the oppressive silence, each movement amplified in the cavernous emptiness of the room. I swung my feet slightly, my heels tapping against the cold metal frame in a nervous rhythm. It wasn’t a conscious movement—more of an outlet for the tension that had been building since I arrived.

The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed faintly, their harsh glare reflecting off every polished surface in the room. The white walls were devoid of anything resembling warmth or comfort, the kind of blank canvas that seemed designed to erase the humanity of anyone inside. My gaze wandered to the counter where an assortment of medical tools sat neatly arranged, their metallic edges gleaming under the stark light. Everything here was too precise, too pristine, as though the room itself wanted to remind me that I didn’t belong. My fingers twisted at the hem of my sweater, pulling at the fabric until it stretched, the familiar texture grounding me just enough to keep the growing anxiety at bay.

I let my eyes drift to the window. Outside, the rain poured steadily, streaking down the glass in thin, erratic lines. It had been raining all day, the kind of relentless storm that turned the world into a dull, gray blur. The sound of it was faint but persistent, a soft, rhythmic tapping that filled the silence like a heartbeat. I watched the droplets race each other down the glass, merging and splitting, their paths as unpredictable as my own thoughts. For a moment, I focused on the rain instead of the sterile cold of the room, letting its soothing monotony lull me into a false sense of calm.

Through the frosted glass of the door, I saw two figures standing in the hallway. Even distorted, Coriolanus Snow was unmistakable. His silhouette was tall and commanding, every line of his posture exuding power and control. He stood with the same unshakable composure he always carried, an aura of authority that seemed to demand respect—or fear—from anyone in his presence. Even blurred by the frosted glass, I could sense the sharpness of his gaze, the calculating mind behind those ice-blue eyes. Beside him, the doctor looked small and uncertain, his shoulders slightly hunched as he clutched his clipboard like a lifeline.

My stomach churned as I watched them. The doctor gestured faintly as he spoke, his movements stiff and hesitant, as though he were choosing his words with extreme care. Every so often, he glanced at Coriolanus, his eyes darting toward him like a child seeking a parent’s approval. Coriolanus didn’t move, didn’t respond outwardly, but his mere presence was enough to command the entire interaction. Even here, in the sterile confines of the hospital, the weight of his influence was palpable. He didn’t need to speak; his power was a constant, unspoken presence that loomed over everything.

The door opened with a soft creak, and the sound made my heart skip a beat as I straightened my posture. The doctor entered first, his expression carefully neutral, though his eyes flicked toward me with a mix of pity and reluctance. Behind him, Coriolanus followed, his movements precise and deliberate. The faint scent of his cologne—crisp and sharp, like cedar and rain—cut through the antiseptic air. He closed the door behind him with a soft click, the sound final and unyielding, much like him.

The doctor cleared his throat, the sound breaking the silence like a shard of glass. He began, his tone professional but edged with hesitation. “After reviewing your latest results…” He trailed off, his gaze flicking briefly toward Coriolanus, seeking some unspoken signal. Coriolanus gave the barest nod, and only then did the doctor continue. “It’s clear that your condition has progressed. The flare-ups are becoming more frequent, and the current medication is no longer sufficient.”

The words landed heavily, like stones dropping into my chest, one after the other. “I thought…” My voice cracked, barely above a whisper. “I thought I was getting better.”

The doctor hesitated again, his hands tightening around the clipboard. “Sometimes these conditions are unpredictable,” he said carefully, his words slow and deliberate. “We’ll need to start you on a new treatment plan. It’s a stronger medication, and while it comes with potential side effects, it should help manage the symptoms more effectively.”

I nodded automatically, the motion robotic and detached, as though my body had moved without consulting my mind. It always happened like this. Every time I thought I was making progress, every time I allowed myself a glimmer of hope, it was snatched away. Improvement followed by relapse, hope followed by despair—it was a cycle I was trapped in, and I was tired of fighting it. The thought settled in my chest like a heavy stone, cold and unyielding.

Coriolanus moved then, stepping closer to you with a deliberate grace that made your stomach tighten. He placed a hand on your shoulder, the weight of it grounding and suffocating all at once. “I know this isn’t the news you were hoping for,” he said, his voice smooth and measured, each word carefully chosen. “But this new medication will help you. I’ll make sure you have everything you need.”

The doctor handed him a folded piece of paper—the prescription—with a motion that seemed almost reluctant. His eyes met mine briefly, and for a fleeting moment, I thought I saw something in them. Pity? Regret? Whatever it was, it disappeared as quickly as it came, replaced by the same professional detachment he’d worn when he entered.

Coriolanus nodded to the doctor, his tone polite but firm. “Thank you, Doctor. That will be all.”

The doctor nodded stiffly, his movements tight and deliberate. “Take care, Miss,” he said, his voice softening slightly, though it did little to cut through the haze in my mind.

I weakly nodded again, my motions mechanical, my thoughts dulled by the weight of it all, not trusting myself to speak. The lump in my throat made it hard to breathe, and the walls of the room seemed to close in around me as I digested the information. As the doctor left, the silence that followed was suffocating. Coriolanus squeezed my shoulder gently, a subtle reminder of his presence, a silent signal to follow him.

“Come,” he said, his voice low and steady. “Let’s go home.”

I slid off the examination table, my legs feeling like lead as I moved to gather my things. The crinkle of the paper beneath me was loud in the oppressive quiet, a final jarring sound before I stepped into the hallway. As I followed Coriolanus out, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was leaving more behind than just the sterile confines of the room. Something inside of me had been left behind too, my hope.

The rain outside hadn’t let up, the steady downpour creating a symphony of soft taps against the hospital’s glass doors. As Coriolanus and I stepped into the hallway, the storm seemed louder, closer, as if the entire world were drenched in the same heavy weight pressing down on my chest. His hand never left my shoulder, its pressure firm, steering me like a ship through a tide I didn’t have the strength to resist. My feet moved in time with his, though each step felt disconnected, like I wasn’t in control of my own body anymore.

We passed room after room, the doors half-open, revealing glimpses of other patients. My eyes were drawn to them, even as Coriolanus’s hand guided me forward. In one room, a woman lay motionless in her bed, her face gaunt and pale, her thin arms resting limply at her sides. A monitor beeped steadily beside her, the sound faint but insistent, like a clock counting down. In another room, a man was hunched over in a chair, his head cradled in his hands, the kind of exhaustion on his face that spoke of battles fought and lost. The sights blurred together, each one feeding the gnawing fear in my chest. Is that my future? The thought clung to me like the rain clung to the windows, cold and inescapable.

Coriolanus’s voice broke through my haze, but it was like hearing him underwater. “We’ll have your favorite dinner tonight,” he said, his tone soft, almost kind. “And I’ll stay home with you. No work tonight. Just us.” He paused, his hand tightening slightly on my shoulder, the gesture almost possessive. “Doesn’t that sound nice?”

I nodded, the motion automatic, disconnected from any real thought or feeling. A faint smile tugged at my lips, the kind of smile you give when someone expects it from you, not because you want to. My gaze remained on the passing rooms, each one a silent reminder of what could be waiting for me.

The rain was relentless, its presence enveloping the world around us as we stood in the lobby. It was louder here, the sound of it drumming against the glass walls a constant, unyielding rhythm that seemed to echo the weight in my chest. The streaks of water on the windows distorted the view of the city beyond, turning the Capitol’s towering buildings into blurred silhouettes. Their lights shimmered faintly through the storm, muted and dulled by the gray haze that cloaked everything. I couldn’t decide if the sight was calming or oppressive—perhaps it was both.

Coriolanus pulled a small communicator from his coat pocket, its polished surface gleaming faintly under the soft light. “Bring the car around,”, his voice low but carrying an unmistakable command. As he slipped the communicator back into his pocket, his gaze turned to me. His blue eyes, sharp and penetrating, scanned my face with an intensity that made me feel exposed, like he could see every unspoken thought lurking beneath the surface.

As if the moment couldn’t have come quick enough, the black car appeared, gliding to the curb like a shadow. Its polished frame gleamed under the rain, water beading and rolling off its surface in perfect, smooth rivulets. The driver stepped out swiftly, umbrella in hand, his movements quick and efficient. He was a man I’d seen countless times before but knew nothing about, his presence always hovering at the edges of Coriolanus’s world.

As he approached, I caught a glimpse of his face, illuminated briefly by the dim lights of the lobby. His expression mirrored the doctor’s earlier—a tight, strained politeness that bordered on discomfort. His eyes flicked to mine for the briefest of moments, and I thought I saw something there—something like fear, or perhaps duty so deeply ingrained it had choked out anything else. Whatever it was, it disappeared as quickly as it appeared, his gaze lowering as he came to stand before Coriolanus.

The umbrella opened with a soft snap, a shield against the unrelenting storm. Without a word, the driver handed it to Coriolanus, who took it with the kind of quiet authority that seemed to dictate every interaction around him. He held it over us, his other hand pressing lightly against the small of my back. “Go on,” he said, his voice soft but leaving no room for argument. “Get in. I’ll make sure you’re comfortable.”

I hesitated, my gaze lingering on the hospital behind me. The glowing facade loomed in the rain, its sterile, unyielding light spilling onto the wet pavement like a beacon. For a fleeting moment, I considered turning back, retreating to the cold, clinical detachment of its walls. It felt safer in its distance than the warmth Coriolanus offered—an offering that always came with invisible strings. But his hand at my back applied the faintest pressure, guiding me forward, and I found myself moving without thought.

The interior of the car welcomed me with a warmth that was almost suffocating after the cold rain. The leather seats were smooth and cool against my skin, their faint scent mixing with the ever-present cedar of Coriolanus’s cologne. He slid in beside me, folding the umbrella with a practiced ease before handing it off to the driver, who returned to his post without a word. The door closed with a soft, final thud, sealing us in from the outside world. The rain became a muted hum, a backdrop to the quiet of the car and the faint purr of the engine.

“Home,” Coriolanus instructed, his voice steady, deliberate. The driver nodded, the car gliding smoothly away from the curb.

I stared out the window, the city outside blurring into streaks of light and shadow. Neon signs glowed faintly through the rain, their reflections shimmering on the wet pavement like fragmented pieces of another world. It was beautiful in its distortion, distant and untouchable, like something from a dream. My reflection in the glass was a stark contrast—pale and tired, my eyes hollow and rimmed with unshed tears. I tried not to look at it for too long, but it lingered in the corner of my vision, a ghostly reminder of the weight I carried.

Coriolanus reached for my hand, in a gesture that was both gentle and unyielding. His thumb ghosted over my knuckles, the motion slow and deliberate, as though he were trying to coax some life back into me. With his other hand, he reached up to my hair, his fingers gliding through my curls with a softness that sent an involuntary shiver down my spine.

The car ride felt like drifting through a dream, one where the edges of reality blurred into an indistinct haze. he sound of the rain was ever-present, a steady, rhythmic patter against the car roof that merged with the faint hum of the engine. It wasn’t comforting. It wasn’t soothing. It was simply there. I stared out the window, my eyes tracing the streaks of water as they raced down the glass, but the sights outside barely registered. The city lights, distorted and shimmering, passed in a swirl of gold and silver against the wet pavement, but they felt as distant as stars in the night sky. My thoughts churned endlessly, a tangled knot of emotions too heavy to unravel. The weight of the day pressed heavily on my chest, each breath a little harder than the last. My thoughts circled endlessly, tangling into a mess of guilt, doubt, and something I couldn’t quite name. My hand rested in his, his thumb brushing over my knuckles in that slow, deliberate way, but instead of comfort, it only brought a creeping sense of suffocation. My mind spiraled, darting between the doctor’s words, the fleeting looks of pity I’d received, and the heavy, inescapable presence of Coriolanus beside me.

When the car slowed, the shift in motion barely registered. It wasn’t until the driver stopped and stepped out, the faint sound of the rain growing louder in the sudden stillness, that I realized we had arrived. Blinking as though waking from a long sleep, I glanced toward the window and caught sight of the house looming ahead. The sharp angles of its pristine white facade stood stark against the rain-heavy sky, the warm glow of its lights spilling out in quiet defiance of the storm.

A tear clung to the corner of my eye, unnoticed until I felt its chill against my cheek. I brushed it away with the back of my hand, the motion automatic and strangely detached, like it was someone else’s tear I was wiping away. The door opened, and the driver was there, his umbrella poised like a soldier at attention. His movements were precise, practiced, the kind of efficiency that spoke of discipline but also a careful avoidance of anything personal. For a moment, our eyes met, and I saw something flicker in his expression—a faint echo of the doctor’s earlier look, a blend of duty and something sharper. It was gone as quickly as it came, his gaze dropping as he held the umbrella higher, waiting for me to step into its shelter.

Once Coriolanus emerged from the car, his gaze quickly dropped from me onto the ground below me. Corioalanus’ movements were fluid and unhurried. He adjusted his coat with a subtle flick of his wrist before joining me under the umbrella’s shelter. His hand found the small of my back, guiding me toward the grand entrance as I allowed myself to be led by him. The umbrella shifted slightly above us as he adjusted it, ensuring not a single drop would fall on my head, though his shoulders were speckled with water.

The house loomed larger with each step, its towering white facade glowing faintly against the storm’s dreary backdrop. The marble steps leading to the entrance gleamed under the rain, their slick surfaces reflecting fractured glimpses of the golden light spilling from the windows. For a moment, I hesitated, my feet slowing ever so slightly as I stared at the building. It looked like something out of a painting, too perfect to be real, its grandeur almost mocking in the face of the storm. The house was beautiful, undeniably so, but tonight, it felt imposing, its towering columns and immaculate design a reminder of how small I felt within its walls. Coriolanus’s hand pressed gently but insistently against my back, breaking my reverie and guiding me forward once more.

The servant at the door opened it with practiced precision, his bow low and exact, his movements almost mechanical in their efficiency. He didn’t look at me, not really—his eyes barely skimmed over my figure before fixing on Coriolanus with the kind of deference that bordered on reverence. For a brief second, I caught the faintest flicker of emotion in his expression—a shadow of something that felt too fleeting to name. Was it pity? Resignation? I wasn’t sure, and before I could decide, the moment passed, his face smoothing into the polite neutrality of someone who had long since learned how to mask their thoughts. The rain slipped from the edges of the umbrella as Coriolanus handed it off, the sound of droplets splashing against the stone floor oddly soothing.

Inside, the warmth enveloped me instantly, a stark contrast to the chill of the storm outside. The air was thick with the scent of fresh flowers, lilies mingling with the subtle aroma of polished wood and leather. Crystal chandeliers hung from the high ceilings, their golden light spilling across the polished marble floors in shimmering pools. Everything about the space was designed to impress, from the intricate molding along the walls to the soft glow of the sconces that lined the hallway. It should have been comforting, this carefully curated display of wealth and power, but instead, it felt overwhelming, the sheer perfection of it all pressing down on me like a weight I couldn’t shake. The house was beautiful, yes, but it wasn’t warm. It was pristine, a masterpiece of design, but it lacked the lived-in messiness that might have made it feel like a home.

“Rest for a while before dinner,” Coriolanus said, his voice calm and steady, yet carrying an undertone that left no room for argument. He removed his coat in one smooth motion, handing it to a waiting attendant without so much as a glance. His movements were fluid, deliberate, every gesture calculated with the precision of someone who knew exactly how much space they commanded. “You’ll feel better,” he added, his gaze settling on me with an intensity that made my breath hitch. There was no question in his tone, no suggestion that I might disagree. It was a statement, a certainty, as if my well-being were something he could dictate with his words alone.

I nodded, the motion small and automatic, as though my body were responding on its own. “Perhaps I will,” I murmured, the words slipping from my lips before I could think about them. They felt distant, hollow, as if I were borrowing someone else’s voice to fill the space between us. The corners of my mouth lifted in a faint smile, one that didn’t quite reach my eyes but seemed to satisfy him all the same. He lingered for a moment, his gaze lingering on me as though searching for something he wasn’t quite sure he’d find. Then, with a slight incline of his head, he turned and strode down the corridor toward his study, his footsteps echoing softly against the marble.

I didn’t rest. Resting felt impossible, the idea of lying in that massive bed, surrounded by soft linens and perfectly fluffed pillows, too stifling to bear. The very thought of it made my chest tighten, the weight of the day pressing down on me like a stone. Instead, I found myself drawn to the window, its towering panes offering a view of the rain-soaked grounds. The bench beneath it was soft, lined with cushions that felt almost too indulgent for the ache that had settled in my chest. I curled up there, tucking my legs beneath me and pressing my forehead lightly against the cool glass. The chill seeped into my skin, sharp and grounding, a welcome contrast to the oppressive warmth of the room

The room I slept in was so vast, Coriolanus’ way of showing me the treatment he thought I deserved, but instead I felt small here, swallowed by the grandeur of it all; a grand four-poster bed draped in silken fabrics, its headboard carved with elaborate scrollwork; a writing desk positioned by one of the room’s smaller windows, its surface empty save for a single vase of fresh flowers; a seating area complete with armchairs and a low table, the kind of space meant for quiet conversations that never happened. 

The room dwarfed me, its elegance a stark contrast to the gnawing emptiness inside my chest. The air felt heavier the longer I sat, the silence pressing against my ears until even my own breath seemed too loud. I curled up tighter on the window bench, tucking my knees against my chest as if making myself smaller might somehow lessen the weight of the space around me. The glass was cool against my forehead, a sharp reminder that the world outside this cage continued on without me, unbothered by my existence.

The rain continued its relentless descent, streaking down the glass in chaotic trails that blurred the world outside. Beyond the window, the gardens stretched into the darkness, their carefully manicured edges softened by the storm. The lights of the estate shimmered faintly through the rain, their golden glow distorted into shifting patterns of light and shadow. I followed the path of a single raindrop as it slid down the glass, merging with others before disappearing from view. There was something oddly mesmerizing about it, the way it moved unpredictably, as though it held a secret I couldn’t quite grasp.

I was grateful to be home, I told myself. Grateful for the warmth, the shelter, the quiet that wrapped around me like a cocoon. Outside, the world was wild and chaotic, full of joys and freedoms I could never hope to experience. Here, within these walls, I was safe. Protected. Hidden. Yet, even as I tried to hold onto that gratitude, it felt hollow, as though the edges of it were fraying under the weight of something I couldn’t name. The house was a sanctuary, yes, but it was also a barrier—a place where the outside world couldn’t reach me, but where I couldn’t reach it either.

I stared out at the rain-soaked grounds, my gaze tracing the endless trails of water that blurred the gardens and trees into a muted palette of green and gray. Beyond the estate’s walls, the world stretched out in ways I couldn’t imagine, filled with wonders I would never see, joys I would never taste. The thought settled in my stomach like a stone, heavy and cold, pulling at the edges of my mind until it became hard to ignore. This room, this house, this carefully curated life—it was all I had ever known, and yet it felt so far removed from anything real.

 Why am I here? The question slipped through my thoughts like a whisper, delicate and fleeting. My hand moved almost without thought, fingers brushing against the cold glass of the window. The coolness seeped into my skin, grounding and yet strangely distant, as though I were touching something that wasn’t really there. I watched the rain beyond the glass, its chaotic patterns blurring the world into something unrecognizable, unreachable. My fingertips lingered, tracing the faint condensation that had gathered on the surface, and I felt the weight of the thought pressing down on me.

Why am I here?

The question wasn’t just about this room, this house, or even this life. It was something deeper, a quiet ache that I had never been able to name. Was there a reason for all of this—the endless routines, the careful balance, the constant feeling of being preserved and protected like something fragile and breakable? My hand slid lower on the glass, the smooth surface unyielding beneath my touch, as if even it refused to give way to my wandering thoughts.

The doubt began to creep in, threading itself through my mind like the rain streaking down the window. What was my purpose here? Was I anything more than a burden, something to be cared for and kept out of harm’s way? The room seemed to grow larger around me, its vastness pressing in on my small, curled frame. The grand furniture, the soaring ceiling, the soft golden light—all of it felt suffocating, like a gilded cage meant to hide me from a world I would never know.

My gaze drifted back to the rain, following the erratic trails of the droplets as they merged and split, their movements unpredictable and yet strangely beautiful. I thought of the world outside, the one that carried on without me, filled with joys and freedoms I couldn’t touch. For a fleeting moment, the thought came softly, unbidden: What if I wasn’t here at all? My breath hitched, the idea settling in my chest like a stone. It wasn’t angry or desperate—just a quiet acknowledgment, a shadowy corner of my mind whispering truths I didn’t want to hear. If I disappeared, would anything really change? The rain would still fall, the house would still stand, and the world would move on, untouched by my absence.

I pressed my palm flat against the glass, the chill biting into my skin like a reprimand. The thought lingered, heavier now, and I found myself gripping the edge of the cushion beneath me, the rough texture grounding me as I fought against the pull of my own doubts. Stop it, I told myself, the words harsh and insistent. I shouldn’t think like that. I had no right to. The ache in my chest was my own burden to bear, but it didn’t mean I should give in to it.

I forced my hand away from the glass, curling it into a loose fist in my lap. The cold sensation lingered on my fingertips, a reminder of the path my thoughts had taken. “You’re better than this,” I whispered aloud, though my voice sounded small, almost childlike in the vastness of the room. I didn’t know if I believed it, but I clung to the words all the same, as though saying them aloud might make them true.

The rain continued outside, steady and relentless, its rhythm unbroken by my turmoil. I turned my gaze back to the storm, letting the endless cascade of water fill my vision. I wasn’t the rain. I wasn’t free to simply exist, to move and flow and disappear without consequence. But perhaps that wasn’t my purpose. Perhaps my reason for being here was something I couldn’t yet see. The thought didn’t bring comfort, not exactly, but it was enough to steady the trembling edges of my mind.

The world beyond the glass remained blurred and unreachable, but I stayed there, watching the rain and telling myself that the doubts would pass. They had to. For now, I would sit in this room, in this house, and try to remind myself that my place here, whatever it was, mattered—if only because I was still here to question it.

And then came the knock.

It wasn’t loud, but in the stillness, it might as well have been thunder. The sharp sound jolted me, shattering the fragile thread of calm I’d been clinging to. I pulled my hand back from the window as if caught doing something I shouldn’t, my pulse quickening as I turned toward the door. The knock came again, softer this time, followed by the hesitant creak of it opening just enough for a maid to peek through.

“Dinner is ready,” she said, her voice small and careful, almost apologetic. There was a nervous edge to her tone, as though she were unsure whether interrupting me had been the right choice. Her gaze lingered on the floor before darting upward to meet mine for the briefest moment.

I swallowed, my throat dry as I nodded. “Thank you,” I replied, the words leaving my mouth almost automatically. My voice was steady, but quieter than I expected, like the weight of my thoughts still hung over me.

The maid nodded quickly, ducking her head before retreating from the room as quietly as she had entered. The door clicked shut behind her, and the silence rushed back in, even louder than before. For a moment, I remained where I was, staring at the door as if expecting her to return. The interruption had pulled me out of my spiral, but the lingering threads of doubt still clung to me, fragile yet persistent.

I exhaled slowly, smoothing the fabric of my clothes with trembling hands. My fingers lingered over invisible wrinkles, a futile attempt to press them out as though tidying my appearance might restore some semblance of order to my mind. My reflection in the glass caught my eye, pale and uncertain, my posture slouched in a way that felt unfamiliar. I straightened my back, forcing my shoulders into a semblance of composure. You’re better than this, I told myself again, this time with more conviction.

Turning from the window, I glanced around the room, its vastness suddenly more pronounced in the dim light. The grand bed loomed in one corner, its silken sheets untouched, while the writing desk sat pristine and empty, a silent testament to a life I wasn’t living. I resisted the urge to glance back at the window, knowing that if I lingered there again, the weight of my thoughts might pull me under.

The dining room was like a scene from a painting, too perfect, too composed to feel real. The chandelier above cast a golden glow that danced across the pristine table, stretching longer than it needed to, its polished surface almost blinding under the light. Each place setting was immaculate, every fork, knife, and plate precisely where it should be. Yet the grandeur of the room felt oppressive, as if it were bearing down on me, reminding me how small I was in comparison. The rain outside provided a soft, relentless drumbeat against the windows, its sound faint but unyielding, a background rhythm to the suffocating silence.

Coriolanus sat at the far end of the table, his posture so perfect it looked carved from stone. His sharp blue eyes fixed on me with an intensity that made my chest tighten, a faint smile curling at the corners of his lips. It wasn’t a warm smile, not really. It felt deliberate, calculated, as though he were allowing me a moment to think I was safe. He rested his elbows lightly on the table, his fingers steepled, his presence filling every corner of the room. The distance between us, though vast, felt suffocating. Every time I glanced up, his gaze was there, steady and unwavering, like he could see through every thought I didn’t dare voice.

The maids moved like shadows, their footsteps silent against the marble floor. One glided to my side, adjusting my chair ever so slightly, pushing it closer to the table until the edge pressed against me. Another refilled my wine glass, her hands steady, but I caught a flicker of hesitation in her movements. I muttered a soft “thank you,” but she didn’t respond, her head bowed as she stepped back into the background. I noticed the way her eyes darted briefly toward Coriolanus before returning to the floor, the faintest tremor in her hands betraying an unease that mirrored my own.

I forced myself to pick up my fork, my fingers trembling slightly. The food on my plate was a masterpiece, a delicate arrangement of colors and textures that should have been appetizing. But it felt alien, like it didn’t belong to me. Each bite turned to ash in my mouth, my stomach twisting with unease. Across the table, Coriolanus ate with deliberate precision, each movement of his utensils smooth and controlled. He wasn’t eating much; he was watching me. His gaze was too steady, too penetrating, and the longer it lingered, the more I felt like an insect pinned beneath a magnifying glass. The silence was unbearable, broken only by the faint patter of rain against the windows and the muffled shuffle of the maids moving in the background. They moved like ghosts, their footsteps barely audible, their eyes flickering toward Coriolanus with an unspoken understanding that sent a chill down my spine.

“You’ve been quieter than usual,” Coriolanus said finally, his voice soft but unnervingly sharp. He set down his utensils with deliberate care, the clink of metal against porcelain echoing like a gavel in the stillness. “Do you have nothing to say? Nothing at all?”

“I’m sorry,” I said quickly, my voice trembling. “I’m just… I don’t feel well.”

He tilted his head slightly, his blue eyes narrowing. “Not well,” he repeated, his tone deceptively calm. “Is that all? Or is there something else you’re not telling me?” His smile was faint, but it carried no warmth. It was a warning, a reminder that he could see through me.

I shook my head, my hands gripping the edge of the table. “No, there’s nothing else. I just…” My voice faltered, and I dropped my gaze to my plate. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know,” he murmured, leaning back in his chair. His movements were slow, deliberate, as if he were giving me time to reconsider my words. “Interesting.”

The maids paused in their movements, their presence like shadows against the edges of the room. I could feel their unease, see it in the way their hands hovered just slightly too long over a decanter or a tray. They knew something I didn’t, something that made my stomach churn with a sense of impending doom.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” I stammered, my words tumbling out clumsily. “I appreciate it, I really do. I’m just—”

“Just what?” he interrupted smoothly, his voice lowering slightly. His eyes narrowed, the faint smile on his lips disappearing as he leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. “Tired? Distracted? Ungrateful?”

The last word hit me like a slap, and I flinched, my fingers gripping the edge of the table. “No,” I said quickly, shaking my head. “I’m not ungrateful. I just—sometimes I feel—”

“Feel what?” he pressed, his voice growing quieter, more dangerous. “That this is too much? That you don’t deserve it? Or that you don’t want it?”

“No, it’s not that,” I tried to explain, but my voice cracked, betraying the panic rising in my chest. The maids moved silently around the edges of the room, their movements slowing as though they, too, sensed the shift in his demeanor. One of them hesitated by the sideboard, her hands trembling as she adjusted a tray that didn’t need adjusting.

“Then what is it?” Coriolanus asked, his words deliberate, slicing through my feeble explanations. 

“Because from where I’m sitting, it seems as though you’ve taken everything I’ve given you for granted.”

The words were harsher than anything he had ever said to me, and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe. He had never spoken to me like this before, not even in frustration. My chest tightened, and I felt my cheeks flush with both shock and embarrassment.  “That’s not true,” I said, my voice trembling. The word hung in the air like a slap, and I flinched, my hands gripping the edge of the table until my knuckles turned white. “I’m not ungrateful,” I said quickly, my voice trembling. “I’m grateful, Coriolanus. I swear I am.”

“Are you?” he asked, leaning forward now, his elbows resting on the table, his sharp gaze narrowing. His faint smile faded, replaced by an expression so cold and calculating it sent a chill down my spine. “Because from where I’m sitting, it seems as though you’ve taken everything I’ve given you for granted.”

“That’s not true,” I stammered, my pulse pounding in my ears. “I didn’t mean—”

“What did you mean, then?” he interrupted smoothly, his tone dropping an octave. “Do you think this life is too much for you? Or perhaps, you believe you don’t deserve it?”

“No, it’s not that,” I said desperately, my words faltering as I tried to explain. “I just… I don’t know. Sometimes, I feel like I don’t belong.”

The admission hung in the air like a toxic cloud, suffocating and irreversible. Coriolanus’s expression didn’t change immediately, but I saw the flicker of something dark and dangerous in his eyes. Slowly, methodically, he straightened in his chair, his movements so controlled it felt like watching a storm gather in slow motion.

“You don’t belong,” he repeated softly, almost to himself. He let the words linger, rolling them over like a bitter taste on his tongue. “After everything I’ve done for you, after everything I’ve given you, you dare to sit at my table and say you don’t belong?”

“That’s not what I meant,” I said quickly, my heart pounding so hard it drowned out the rain outside. “I just… I don’t know. I feel out of place sometimes. Like I’m not doing enough.”

“Not doing enough,” he murmured, his voice almost a whisper. He shook his head slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. “Do you know what it takes to ensure you have everything you need? The time, the effort, the resources? And you’re sitting here, telling me it’s not enough?”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” I said desperately, my voice cracking. “I’m sorry,—” I said quickly, my voice cracking under the weight of his gaze. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“Offend me?” he said, his voice soft but seething. “No, you didn’t offend me. What you’ve done is far worse. You’ve wasted what has been given to you, what others can only dream of having. And for what? Because you’re ‘not hungry’?” He leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on the table, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made my stomach churn. “Do you know what it takes to provide this life for you?”

“I am grateful,” I said, my voice breaking under the weight of the moment. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. “I’m grateful for everything you’ve done. I swear I am.”

“Gratitude,” he said softly, his tone turning icy as he tilted his head slightly, studying me like a predator might study prey. “Do you even know what that means? Because from where I’m sitting, your gratitude looks hollow. Empty. Like a facade you wear to appease me, nothing more.”

“That’s not true,” I whispered, shaking my head, but my voice lacked conviction. The words felt weak, fragile, like they might shatter under the weight of his scrutiny. The rain outside pounded harder, the sound merging with the thundering in my chest, a relentless rhythm of fear.

The maids froze mid-motion, their faces carefully blank, but their eyes betrayed them. I saw the unease flicker there, a shared, silent acknowledgment of something I didn’t yet fully understand. The maids exchanged glances again, their movements almost imperceptible, but I caught it. They weren’t just silent; they were terrified. One maid’s hand trembled as she adjusted a wine decanter that didn’t need adjusting, her eyes darting toward Coriolanus as though gauging when it might be safe to breathe again. The realization struck me like a blow—they had seen this before. They knew this version of him, the one that simmered with a quiet, unrelenting fury. But I didn’t. This side of him was foreign to me, and that unfamiliarity made it all the more terrifying.

Even the rain outside seemed to intensify, its relentless drumming against the windows a hollow backdrop to the suffocating stillness. My heart raced, a staccato beat that I was sure he could hear from across the room. His gaze bore into me, unflinching, cold, and I felt my breath catch as if he’d wrapped an invisible hand around my throat.

I opened my mouth, desperate to explain, to claw my way out of the pit I’d inadvertently dug, but no words came. My throat felt tight, as though invisible hands were squeezing the air from me. The maids shifted nervously, their glances darting between him and me like animals watching a predator. They seemed to know what was coming, their wary expressions a silent confirmation of what I had begun to suspect: this wasn’t the first time Coriolanus had unleashed this quiet, seething fury. But for me, this was uncharted territory, and the man sitting at the far end of the table no longer resembled the Coriolanus I thought I knew.

He raised his hand, and the nearest maid stepped forward instantly, her movements stiff but quick. “Take her plate,” he commanded, his voice calm but carrying a finality that sent a chill through the room. The maid didn’t hesitate, her hands trembling slightly as she lifted the untouched plate from the table. The absence of it felt like a blow, a visceral reminder of just how easily everything could be stripped away.

“Coriolanus,” I tried again, panic rising in my chest, but he ignored me entirely

“Quiet,” he said sharply, his tone cutting through my words like a blade. He didn’t raise his voice, but the command in it was undeniable. 

He raised a hand, silencing me instantly, the gesture so precise, so commanding, that I found myself shrinking under the weight of his authority. “Take her plate,” he said, his voice calm, yet carrying a quiet menace that made my stomach churn.

The nearest maid stepped forward, her movements quick but visibly strained. Her hands trembled as she reached for my plate, her fingers brushing the porcelain as she lifted it away. The absence of the plate felt more significant than it should have, a hollow emptiness settling in its place. My chest ached with the realization of how effortlessly he could strip away something as mundane as a meal, a symbol of care now reduced to a calculated show of control.

“Coriolanus, please,” I whispered, desperation creeping into my voice, but he ignored me entirely. His cold, unrelenting gaze remained fixed on mine as though daring me to protest further.

“Take her chair,”

The scrape of wood against marble was deafening, and then, without the support beneath me, I fell hard to the ground. The impact was jarring, the cold marble biting into my knees and palms as pain radiated through my body. My breath hitched as I struggled to push myself up, my limbs trembling under the weight of my humiliation. The sound of the chair being carried away echoed in the now silent room, leaving me alone on the floor, exposed and vulnerable.

The clack of his shoes broke the silence, each deliberate step sending a fresh wave of dread through me. Coriolanus rose from his seat, his movements slow and controlled, his composure unbroken. The maids disappeared quietly through a side door, their departure as seamless as their service, leaving the two of us alone. Each footfall brought him closer, the sharp sound of his polished shoes against the marble floor growing louder, more oppressive.

“I didn’t mean it,” I whispered, my voice trembling as tears spilled down my cheeks. “I swear, I didn’t mean it.”

“Stand,” he said, the command sharp and unyielding.

I tried to push myself upright, my arms shaking as I braced them against the cold floor. My legs felt weak, useless, and I collapsed back onto my knees, my breath coming in shallow gasps. “I—I can’t,” I stammered, shame and fear choking the words as they left my lips.

His eyes narrowed, and without warning, he reached down, his hand gripping my arm with an iron strength that left no room for resistance. The suddenness of his touch made me gasp, and he hauled me to my feet effortlessly, his movements precise and controlled. My knees wobbled beneath me, my body leaning against his for balance before I quickly pulled back, trying to steady myself. His grip didn’t falter, his hand unyielding as he turned toward the door.

“This,” he said, throwing the door open with a swift motion, “is what waits for you out there.”

The storm roared beyond the threshold, the wind howling and rain slashing against the marble steps with relentless ferocity. The cold air rushed in, chilling me to the bone, and I recoiled instinctively, my arms wrapping around myself as though I could shield against the biting cold. The darkness outside stretched endlessly, a yawning void that promised nothing but chaos.

“Do you understand now?” Coriolanus asked, rising from his chair with a deliberate grace that made my knees feel weak. He circled the table slowly, his footsteps measured and purposeful, like the ticking of a clock counting down to something inevitable. “Do you see how easily everything you have can be taken away? How fragile it all is? Is that what you want?”

“No,” I sobbed, my voice breaking as I shook my head. Tears streamed down my face, mixing with the rain that clung to my skin. “I don’t want to go. Please, Coriolanus. Don’t make me go.”

“Then prove it,” he said, his voice deceptively soft, each word delivered with a measured precision that made the air around me grow colder. It wasn’t a shout or even a reprimand; it was a challenge, calculated and cutting. His tone demanded submission, his icy blue eyes pinning me in place as though daring me to contradict him. His hand on my arm tightened slightly, enough to remind me of his physical presence, his control. “Convince me,” he continued, leaning in closer, his voice dropping to an almost intimate murmur. “Because right now, all I see is someone who doesn’t understand the gravity of their position. Someone so blind, so ungrateful, that they’d rather throw away everything they’ve been given.”

My breath hitched, a shiver rippling down my spine. His words struck a chord deep inside me, each one carefully chosen to cut through my defenses and twist the knife. I tried to look away, to retreat from the intensity of his gaze, but his fingers moved to my chin, tilting my face upward with deliberate force. The gesture was controlled, not violent, but it carried a weight that made my heart pound painfully against my ribs.

“Do you think anyone else,” he continued, his tone softening but losing none of its edge, “would have done what I’ve done for you? Do you think anyone else would have kept you alive, sheltered, cared for, when the world outside would swallow you whole without hesitation?” His thumb brushed against my cheek, a movement so slight and calculated it made my stomach twist. “No,” he answered himself, his voice like steel wrapped in velvet. “No one else would. No one else could.”

I wanted to argue, to tell him that wasn’t true, but my throat felt like it was closing. Words died before they could form, and I was left trembling under his relentless gaze. “I didn’t mean it,” I finally managed to whisper, the words cracking as they left my lips. “Coriolanus, I swear, I didn’t mean it.”

“Didn’t mean it?” he echoed, his lips curving into the faintest semblance of a smile, though it carried no warmth. “Words, darling, are meaningless without action. An apology without understanding is hollow. A lie.”

“I’m not lying,” I protested weakly, my voice trembling as tears spilled over my cheeks. “I’m sorry. I swear, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry isn’t enough,” he said, his voice cool and measured, like a judge handing down a sentence. “Gratitude isn’t a word you utter when it suits you. It’s knowing your place. Knowing that without me, you wouldn’t just be lost—you wouldn’t exist.”

His words landed like a physical blow, and I felt my legs weaken beneath me. The rain outside seemed to roar louder, a violent symphony that mirrored the storm brewing in my chest. I tried to hold his gaze, but the weight of it was unbearable, and my vision blurred with tears. “I—I understand,” I stammered, the words trembling on my lips. “I do. Please, Coriolanus, I understand.”

He studied me for a long moment, his piercing gaze never wavering. His hand remained on my chin, keeping me locked in place, and I could feel the warmth of his breath against my skin as he leaned in closer. “Do you?” he murmured, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “Because right now, all I see is a child throwing a tantrum, blind to the reality of their situation. Blind to the lengths I’ve gone to ensure their survival.”

“I’m grateful,” I sobbed, the words tumbling out in a rush. “I am. I swear, Coriolanus, I’m grateful.”

His thumb pressed slightly against my jaw, a subtle reminder of his control, before he released me abruptly. The absence of his touch left me unmoored, trembling as I tried to steady myself. He stepped back, his icy gaze flicking over me as though assessing whether I was worth the trouble. Then, with a deliberate slowness, he adjusted the lapels of his suit, smoothing the fabric with practiced ease.

“Good,” he said finally, his voice returning to its usual controlled cadence. But then he leaned in once more, his hand catching my chin again with a sharpness that made me flinch. His eyes burned into mine, and when he spoke, his words carried a menace that froze me in place. “If you ever forget again, I’ll remind you. And you won’t like how I do it.”

I bit back a sob, nodding frantically, the tears on my face mingling with the rain still dripping from my hair. My knees threatened to give out, but I forced myself to stand, every muscle in my body trembling. His grip on my chin tightened for a moment longer, his eyes narrowing as though to drive his point home, before he finally released me. I staggered back slightly, my hands trembling at my sides.

“Clean yourself up,” he said, his voice calm now, almost indifferent. “And get back to the table. Dinner isn’t over.”

With that, he turned and walked back toward the dining room, his footsteps echoing against the marble with an unhurried grace that made the contrast between his composed exterior and my internal chaos all the more jarring. He reached the table, smoothing his suit as he lowered himself back into his seat. When he glanced up at me, his lips curled into a faint smile, as though the scene that had just unfolded was nothing more than a momentary hiccup in an otherwise pleasant evening.

I remained frozen in the doorway, trembling, my hands clenched into fists as I tried to stop the shaking. The storm outside raged on, its fury a stark contrast to the eerie calm that had settled over the dining room. The maids began to move again, their steps quiet and practiced as they brought fresh dishes to the table, their faces carefully blank. Coriolanus picked up his fork, his movements slow and deliberate, as though savoring the meal in front of him.

But his smile—it lingered, soft and satisfied, a chilling reminder that this was his world, his control. And as his words echoed in my mind—Without me, you are nothing—I realized with bone-deep certainty: He owns me. Entirely. And there’s no escape.

[ram-bles]

Hello! Is it okay if you can write mouthwashing headcannons of how the crew members would react to the reader randomly attacking them with kisses? If you want to stick with one person, then I was thinking, Anya? (If you want someone else, then that's okay too!)

Have a great day/afternoon/night

tulpar crew x gn!reader

smooch attack headcanons.

⚠️ pushy jimmy. everything else is chill. not proof read.

[note: sorry I've been out for long everyone! I had some stuff come up but I'm doing some progress on the things you guys send! I hope you enjoy these imagines]

[ Anya ]

🟦 giggling mess if done right

🟦 if you do it, please don't jump her.

🟦 sth like swooping in first before kissing her. small signals that it's you.

Her eyes were glued onto the shelf, searching for that one book she needed. It was usually there. Did I misplace it?

Her thoughts were immediately silenced by a hand taking hers, swift yet carefully. Her body tensed up by instinct but when she realized it was you, it had her giggling as you planted soft kisses on her knuckles. You raise the book that you hid from your back while you entered.

"Sorry! I was reading it earlier."

"I don't mind at all, don't worry."

Anya shakes her head with a smile and cups your cheek and you beam. That was one of the small signals she gave that says she's fine with this. She brushes your cheek for a moment as you lean in to her touch, then you feel her carefully tucking a lock of your hair behind your ear. You immediately wrap your arms around her waist and lean in for a kiss- kisses. Lots of them. You start off on her cheek, then her nose, her eyelids, her forehead, then a peck to her lips and she was softly laughing the whole time, both from the affection and how ticklish it was.

[ Curly ]

🩹 Not a fan of PDA either. you gotta do it when you both get privacy.

🩹 So you do it with every chance you get.

You spot Jimmy lingering back at the lounge without your beloved Captain? You're beelining towards the cockpit.

Alone in the kitchen? You're on him.

Hallways? Oh, Captai—in!

Even if he scolds and chastises you for it, he loves it. He does the same anyways. One time though, you were both in the lounge reading together when you eventually got bored. You peek at your partner who was heavily invested at the article when suddenly the item gets pushed away and replaced by you on his lap. Before he could even warn you, you grabbed his face and showered him with kisses. Curly gives in and hugs you, it should be alright since no one's here, right? He'll let it slide for now.

When you part, he had a stupid grin on his face.

"Darling, have I ever taught you how to aim?"

With a chuckle, you shake your head and you both lean in for a kiss.

"How does a lesson tonight in your quarters sound, Captain?"

"Perhaps we could reschedule for an earlier time. How does right now sound?"

"Perfect."

[ Daisuke ]

🌺 Usually, it's him who does the guerilla attacks. It's a little game you guys play. The more of a surprise kiss streak you have, the better.

🌺 So far he's on the lead, but not for long.

You had to borrow Anya's lipstick for this. Carefully planned this siege (it only took like 10 minutes). Daisuke had just finished doing inventory, Swansea's back in utility and you're by the storage closet by the hallway and you hear familiar footsteps. In approximately 5.0224 seconds, your target is going to pass by the said storage room aka your location right now. You brace for it, nervous. You push your doubts that it was another person for now and just go for it.

Slamming your partner onto the wall as he squeals, you shut the door and yank on the string to turn the light on. It was dim but you could see the look on his face and you burst out laughing.

"Dude, I thought we had some psycho hiding up in here! I thought I was gonna die!"

"Yeah, you will."

"Fuck you mean by tha— mpFfF?!"

Your lips smash against his and you could tell some of the lipstick smeared. His awkward tense pose loosens up and his hands move away from the walls to your hips as he returns it and you part as he tries not to chase after you.

"Got ya' good, huh?"

"Whaaaaat?" He drawls out with a voice crack, looking away. "I don't know man, you gotta do that again so we can find out." With a pffsh, you start kissing him everywhere, his beauty marks, his lips, cheeks, jaw, neck, probably even on his collar.

Next thing you know, you both pop out the storage room, Swansea looking like he almost had a heart attack while he stares at the both of you in judgement.

Daisuke had a lovestruck expression while his face, neck, and shirt collars were filled with lipstick marks and yours were smudged on your lips.

[ Jimmy ]

🔪 he hates it. he likes it so much he hates it.

🔪 prefers doing it himself though.

Shitty day as always. He wasn't in the mood and he can't bother you which made his day a whole lot worse. It's stupid, why was he so dependent over your attention. It should be the other way around.

Once you were done with your shift, you decided to find the co-pilot. At his usual thinking spot, chewing on a toothpick.

God, he needs his nicotine.

You were silent, only walking towards his way, too busy with his thoughts to even notice you. Not until you plant a kiss on his cheek and his head whips to your direction, almost bumping heads. You smile and peck his lips this time.

"You okay?"

Were you pitying him?

"Fuckin' peachy."

Suddenly, you were pressed up against the wall, caged in-between his arms and you look up at him confused. He flicks the toothpick somewhere and he starts peppering your face with kisses. It was all soft at first, not until he nips at your lip before kissing you roughly. Your lips would probably bruise later on.

[ Swansea ]

Wake rock was softly playing in the background.

🦢 this can be interpreted as romantic/familial honestly

🦢 he seems annoyed by it but in reality he thinks it's sweet. never admitting it though.

You were busy cleaning up in the utility room while Swansea was repairing some wires when he suddenly flinches and cusses loudly, shaking his hand. He got grounded. Now he's grumbling over where Daisuke was when he needed him to do the work. Probably needed to release his frustrations elsewhere by light-heartedly shit talking his intern. You knew he didn't mean it.

Tilting your head curiously, you moved closer, peeking over his shoulder to watch him work for a moment. And just when he moves his hands away from the box, you hug him from the side and kiss his cheek repeatedly.

"Jesus! Warn a man will ya'?!"

"I'm done cleaning! I'll go on break now, boss!"

"Yeah, yeah." He huffs. Unbeknownst to you, he had a small smile on his face as he continued working. Seriously, who does this to their mentor?

Kids these days.

[manhattanstrawberry]

𝙎𝙊𝙐𝙋 ━━𝙎. 𝙂𝙚𝙩𝙤

Synopsis: Suguru wakes up on a late Saturday evening and the soup on the stove can’t compare to the warmth he feels when you’re near

Tags: fluff!! intimacy, established relationship, pet names (baby, sweetheart)

Word count: 1k

Authors note: I love you Suguru Geto. Just a short Drabble I did in like 10 minutes because I really wanted to write for him. I hope you enjoy!!

Art credits: 521jie

He thinks he must’ve been a caring, loved king in his past life or possibly he fed every little duck in the city’s pond, small pieces of bread so that they barely went hungry ever again or perhaps a cat that brought nothing but happiness to a kind old woman. He had to have been one of the best people on earth in his past life because it was the only solid reason he could come up with to be blessed with the sight he can't tear his eyes away from right now. 

It’s simple, the sounds of crashing waves of a beach are nowhere to be heard, if you look to your right outside the large windows there's no Eiffel tower and if you were to look down the Trevi fountain is certainly not down below. 

It’s just you, in his shirt, wandering around the kitchen doing whatever it is that you're doing. Your upper thigh graces him every now and then when your body quickly turns, to find something in the kitchen. He’s got to get dressed soon and get his day started, preferably not at 5 pm on a Saturday evening but you had insisted he slept in this weekend— “catch up on his beauty sleep” he remembered you saying two nights before. You two ended up staying in bed for the day but his body must've been chasing rest as he slept through most of the day, the sun already setting. 

You're caught up in making "lunch", hoping to give him a taste of warmth, as you smell the flavors seeping into the air from the darling pumpkin dutch oven pot he bought for you a year ago. It was either the pumpkin or the basic red one and he just had to indulge in your love for decorated items around the apartment. 

He too can smell the flavors of lunch but all of his senses are taken by you. All he can see is you, he can still smell the lotion you apply right after your shower every night from the bed sheets he just unraveled from, he can hear the tap of your feet as you move across the kitchen and the small hums that leave you as you finally find the ingredients you're looking for, he can almost feel the soft skin of your exposed legs and arms that he kisses every night and right now he's craving the sweet taste of your lips he could never forget and always seek for.

He can feel the cool air on his skin, his shirt missing from his chest, decorating yours, perhaps you couldn't feel the chill due to the heat coming from the stove. The harsh sound of the wind along with the snow outside is drowned out by the closed windows, and he can hear the quiet jazz from the speakers hooked up to the television if he listens just hard enough. You concentrate on the pot on the stove, stirring with a wooden spoon and then bringing it up to your lips to have a taste. He watches from the archway, a little jealous of the spoon but he stays still just to indulge in the sight a little longer. 

You’re beautiful, bewitching and he almost feels homesick just standing a few feet away from you.  

He can almost feel himself getting warm just from the sight of you and the way you rub your eyes as the steam rises to your face. 

“Suguru, how long have you been standing there?” you placed the cover over the pot as a small smile settles on your face “Did you rest well?” 

He moves from the wall in slow strides to meet you as you walk over to him, he nods before taking you in his arms. He holds your waist bringing you close as his head falls to your shoulder. You settle your head on to his shoulder as he drapes himself on top of you holding you tighter. Your fingers run against his scalp and down the length of his hair, it’s soft and perfect, a little too much like him. He hums at the feeling of your hands in his hair and straightens up to look at you, a tired smile on his face as he places a kiss on your nose and then to your forehead. You giggle and the sound goes into his ears and straight to his heart.

He can feel the weight of his love for you coursing through his body and he wants nothing more than to take you back to bed and hold you even closer that the concept of space doesn't exist anymore. His hand rests on the back of your head, “What are you cooking sweetheart?” the other hand holding your waist close to him. 

“Soup.” 

He hums, feeling warmer from your arms around his waist and the idea of soup in his stomach. 

“Are you cold,” his hand glides to your cheek, his thumb caressing your warm skin. You lean into his touch moving even closer to him, the fabric of your—his shirt pressed against his bare torso. 

“Not really,” You sigh. “I felt warm over by the stove and then I came over to you, I still feel warm. You must've been cold though, I’m sorry I didnt turn on the heater.” You frowned at him. 

“It’s alright, I feel warm with you right here.” His arm tightened around your waist. 

“Put on a sweater or atleast a shirt, baby.” You tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. You let your hand travel down his neck and to his shoulder rubbing it up and down slowly to provide some heat to his exposed skin. 

“Hm, if I remember correctly, someone took it.” He looked to the side feigning sadness. You lightly slapped his shoulder before going back to your attempt of warming him up. He looked back at your face, his eyes, arms and heart filled with you as he warmly smiled. 

He’s just so endearing and sweet and he’s yours. 

“Get a sweater, okay? The soup should be finished right now.” You begin to pull away, but he takes a step to hold on to you a little longer. Your hand rests on his bicep as his face moves a little closer to yours. 

“I’ll put something on.” He kisses your cheek before moving closer to your lips, “I just can’t stand the idea of having soup before I taste you.” 

Divider creds: @saradika

© manhattanstrawberry please do not plagiarize or repost my work

[soombee]

ଳ⋆｡˚𖦹 caught in the current of you — 09 , checkmate !!

warnings ! angst!! decision making!! (LOL)

word count , 1433 / 1.4k words

lf = looking for , i was sooo excited for this chapter to come finally heheehehe… also SORRY IF THIS FEELS FORCED LOLL.. i literally HATE slowburn so much……

9:18 pm — outside a cafe

leehan’s head leaned against the wall near the coffee shop, scrolling through his phone. his last message to you was still unread by you, and his irritation grew with every passing minute

he knew he’d been acting differently lately—sharper, colder—but he couldn’t help it. seeing his ex best friend openly flirt with you on twitter, seeing how much you smiled at his comments, had his jealousy running wild

the bell above the door jingled, and there you were, walking out with taesan by your side, laughing at something he said. he held the door open for you, and leehan’s stomach twisted

“leehan?” your voice broke through his thoughts. you looked surprised to see him, your smile faltering slightly, “what are you doing here?”

“waiting,” he said shortly, shoving his phone into his pocket as he glares at the black haired man beside you

“for who?”

“for you.”

taesan smirked at him, the smugness in his expression barely hidden, not like he wanted to hide it,

“didn’t know you’d be here” taesan said

“i can see that.” leehan’s tone was flat, his eyes flicking between the two of you

“leehan,” you said softly, sensing the tension, “you okay?”

“yeah, fine.” his words were sharp, clipped. too sharp. you frowned

“really? you’ve been acting weird lately..”

“i’m not the one acting weird,” he snapped, his jealousy finally boiling over. “but hey, maybe you and taesan should sort that out since you seem so close these days?”

your jaw dropped, hurt flashing across your face. taesan, to his credit, stayed silent, though his gaze was glued to Leehan with a mixture of anger and disappointment

“are you serious right now?” you asked, your voice trembling. “you’re mad because taesan’s my friend? because he’s kind to me?”

leehan opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. he hated how defensive he sounded, how he was ruining everything just because he couldn’t handle his own feelings, how he couldn’t even express his feelings

“really?” you said, stepping closer to him, “do you SERIOUSLY think this is what I want? to be caught between the two of you? do you think I enjoy this?”

the blond’s silence was deafening, you shook your head

“oh my god leehan, i can’t do this anymore,” you said, your voice becoming firmer by the second, “you’re so worried about what taesan’s doing, you don’t even see me. he does. he makes me feel seen. and right now, that’s what I need.”

the words hit him like a punch to the gut. he watched as you turned to taesan, who gave him one last look—an unspoken “you did this to yourself” written all over his face—before placing a hand on your back and guiding you away

for the first time, leehan realized he wasn’t just losing you to taesan. he had lost you because of himself

9:30 pm — taesan took you to see the stars

the cold evening breeze nipped at your skin as you walked beside taesan, the streets quiet except for the occasional rustle of leaves. your sweater wasn’t doing much to shield you from the chill, and you shivered involuntarily—so embarrassing..

“youre freezing,” he murmured, stopping in his tracks. before you could protest, he was already tugging his own hoodie over his head, his white t-shirt riding up slightly to reveal a glimpse of his toned abdomen

“oh my gyatt, lord save me #ovulating..”

“taesan, seriously, i’m fine—”

“just take it,” he insisted, gently draping the hoodie over your shoulders. the warmth was immediate, and so was the lingering scent of him—clean, with a faint hint of cologne, “i’d rather me be sick than you”

as you adjusted it around yourself, his hands lightly brushed yours, lingering for a moment too long. when you looked up, his dark eyes were searching your face, his expression soft but resolute

“yn,” he said quietly, stepping closer. “there’s something I need to tell you”

you swallowed hard, already guessing where this was going…

“i didn’t plan for this,” he admitted, running a hand through his hair. “but i can’t keep it to myself anymore. i like you. more than a friend should”

the words hung in the air, heavy but not unwelcome. his confession felt genuine, raw, unpolished in a way that made your heart ache, this was real

“i know this is complicated,” he continued, his voice faltering slightly, “‘specially with…everything else. but I needed you to know how I feel, think you’re the only person i’ve ever been comfortable to be me around..”

you were about to respond when your phone buzzed in your pocket. the sound cut through the moment like a blade, and you fumbled to check the notification

it was a text—from your neighbor,

“hello young lady, i think someone outside your house. he’s been sitting there for a while. do you know him? he has blonde hair”

your stomach dropped

“taesan,” you said, your voice tight, “i—i need to go.”

his brows furrowed, concern flickering across his face, “everything okay?”

you nodded quickly, pecking his cheek before stepping back “yeah, i just… i’ll text you later, okay?”

“i—“ he touched his cheek, hesitated but nodded, “okay... b—be safe”

9:48 pm — your house

when you arrived home, your neighbor’s warning made sense immediately. sitting on the steps to your door, with a box and a folded envelope beside him, was leehan. his head was bowed, his hair slightly messy as though he’d been running his hands through it repeatedly

the sight of him knocked the air out of your lungs

“leehan?” you called softly, your voice carrying through the quiet night

he looked up, startled. the instant his eyes met yours, something in his expression shifted—vulnerability, regret, desperation, all tangled together

“you’re home,” he said, standing quickly and brushing off his jeans. “i—i didn’t mean to stay this long. i just… i wasn’t sure how else to do this.. confessing thingy..”

you glanced at his occupied hands, your heart pounding, “what’s this?”

“a mess, probably,” he said with a shaky laugh, rubbing the back of his neck, “i didnt know how to tell you everything i’ve been feeling without stuttering at the sight of you so I wrote it down. and the gifts… they’re just things that made me think of you… stupid, right haha..” gosh he just couldn’t stop babbling

you shook your head, overwhelmed, “donghyun…”

he stepped closer, his gaze locking onto yours, “i’m sorry, yn. for everything. for being distant, for being jealous, for making you feel like you weren’t enough when you’ve always been too much—in the best way of course”

your throat tightened as he continued, “i don’t deserve you. i know that, but i can’t let you go without even trying”

the weight of his confession pressed against your chest, and you glanced down at the box and letter again, unsure of what to say

“please,” he whispered, his voice breaking slightly, “just… read the letter, and if you still don’t want me after that, i’ll leave you alone. i promise.”

10:44 pm — long after the mess..

you sit at your desk, leehan’s playlist softly playing in the background with his letter unfolded in front of you as taesan’s hoodie draped around your shoulders. the warmth of it is a stark contrast to the chill you feel inside

leehan’s words replay in your mind: “i don’t deserve you… but i can’t let you go without trying.”

and then taesan’s quiet confession from earlier: “I like you. more than a friend should”

your chest feels heavy, torn between the two men

leehan—the boy who frustrated you to no end but also knew you better than anyone else, even in his flaws or taesan—the boy who made you feel seen, who offered a warmth that felt effortless and pure

the two paths stretch in front of you, pulling at your heart in opposite directions

* ding !! * ding !!

you jump, glancing at your phone to see two notifications:

#plottingon (leehan) : did you read the letter? it’s everything i’ve been meaning tell you.. well, some of it.. i had to rush it..

majestic shyt (taesan) : i’m sorry if the confession felt forced, i promise you i’ll tell you more whenever you’re ready, please come and talk to me if you ever feel any discomfort

your heart pounds in your ears. this is it. this is your move.

who do you choose?

do you choose to stay with kim leehan?

or..

do you choose to create a new future with han taesan?

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[captn-trex]

angel of small death

Howzer x F!Reader / Twi'lek!Reader 

word count: 6.1k / 24k

part one | part two | part three

description: after the rise of the Empire, Howzer finds his position on Ryloth to be precarious at best, but his attention is drawn from his troubles when he finds himself captivated by a new politician’s arrival

warnings/tags: 18+ !!! strangers to lovers, mutual pining, more angst in this part, kinda miscommunication-ish, political thoughts/discussions, mentions of clone rights/autonomy, smut in part three

a/n: a little treat for the technical devotion readers in this one (I'll post the final chapter soon I promise), by way of my clone OCs Oscar and Teddy (the loml)! yeah its never mentioned in TD now that I think about it but they’re from howzer's squad on ryloth so… enjoy my baby boys :)

masterlist | join my taglist

Howzer’s whole body felt stiff, and he was sick of it.

Cham was on a comm call with a delegate from the senate, and things were not going well, but all Howzer could think about was getting back to the barracks and sinking into his bunk, tuning out the world and letting sleep take him. It was well past the time that he should usually have been let off duty, as had been the theme of the past few days.

He just wanted to sleep. He hadn’t slept properly in those few days, and he could feel how much it grieved his body. His eyes threatened to close, and he had to pinch himself in a spot between the pieces of his armour to refrain.

After what felt like hours, Cham finally finished the call, the blue hologram figure disappearing and engulfing the room in darkness. It seemed that Cham hadn’t realised how late it had got, but Howzer certainly had. He just remained quiet until he was dismissed. He didn’t have the energy to discuss anything right now, and he hadn’t been paying much attention to begin with. When he was let out of the building, the slight chill in the air was a welcome feeling, brushing against his skin and soothing some of the irritation he felt.

He wasn't irritated at Cham. In fact, he didn't know exactly what he was so irritated about at all. He knew that it was heightened by his lack of rest, but it didn't soothe it much to know that fact. He stretched his neck out as he walked, tipping it from one side and then the other, cringing when he heard a few pops. He'd never been so sore in his life.

His feet took him towards the barracks without much thought, the rest of his body complying for the knowledge of the semi-comfortable bunk that awaited his return.

Howzer loved Ryloth. He loved its climate, it's landscape, its people. Most of all, he loved this time of day; the sun about to lower beneath the horizon, the gentle breeze ruffling his hair, the way the trees swayed gently and made a noise akin to sighing. He loved the way the planet looked as it wound down for sleep.

He wished that he had more time in his life to appreciate it. He had hoped that it would come after the war, that there could be time spared among the peace, but now he found himself being stretched thin in new and foreign ways. He knew he wouldn't get the chance, maybe ever, and the realisation made his jaw grind.

He thought more about what you had said the other day by the lake, about a bill to give clones rights, potentially getting paid for their work, or having the ability to leave the Imperial army. For the first time, Howzer wondered what it would be like to not be a soldier. If he was in control of his own fate, what would he do?

He would stay on Ryloth, he didn't even have to consider anything else. Maybe he'd make up for lost time, travel the planet and explore, find every untouched corner and bask in the evening light without the weight of a galaxy at war on his shoulders. Maybe he'd have a stall at the market, maybe he'd have a family, and his kids would play in the street, kicking up water in the fountain while he watched with that certain kind of smile that he only saw on the faces of parents.

It was wishful thinking, and that's all it was.

Deep inside, he knew he'd never see the day where he was liberated. He clenched his hands into fists as the anger that had been being nurtured in him all day finally rose up to the surface.

It wasn't fair. He'd given so much to the Republic. He'd given his life, he'd lost men, he'd fought with his bare hands for the people that they were supposed to protect, and all the while, the Senators in their ivory towers were the ones who decided his future, his fate. It wasn't fair and he was tired. He was so tired.

Thinking about it only made his head ache. He supposed that was why nothing would ever change. If the clones were kept in a state where they couldn't afford to think about their place in the galaxy, then they could be forced to serve with very little pushback.

Howzer made it to the barracks, his journey having only having made him even more irritated than he had been when he left the senate bureau. He let out a sigh of frustration, trying to relax before he'd have to deal with the chaos of his brothers. He didn't want to snap at them for something that wasn't their fault.

As he strode towards the door, his attention was caught by the noise of a page turning, and he looked over to see you sat beneath your usual tree, a stylus in hand and working it against the page of your flimsibook. He stopped walking and watched you for a moment.

He hadn't seen you since taking you to the lake that day, and even though he was tired, he was now itching to talk to you again. He couldn't help but think that your company might calm his angered thoughts.

You hadn't noticed him yet, and he debated not bothering you, but he quickly lost that argument with himself when he saw you smile at something you'd written. It was so effortlessly charming that his feet started moving on their own, carrying him over to you. When your head lifted and saw him approaching, however, your smile instantly dropped and you slammed your book shut. Howzer halted, unable to stop the pang of hurt that arose in his chest.

“Sorry” he blurted out, “I didn't mean to disturb you”

He turned on his heel and began to walk away before you called his name.

“I'm sorry, I just wasn't expecting you” you said, beckoning him back, “did you need me for something?”

Howzer frowned. He wondered what could have made you think his relationship to you should be so transactional, that he would have to have a reason to talk to you besides wanting to.

“No” he shook his head, “I always see you out here though. What is it you're writing?”

“Uh…” you trailed off before you even began, looking down to your book and then back up to him, “it's… well, I— it's just…”

Howzer lifted a brow at the blush that spread over your lilac skin, “you don't have to tell me”

You looked relieved as soon as he said that, “sorry, it's just… private, I suppose”

“I get it” Howzer nodded, “Well I should—”

“Would you like to sit down?” you asked him, patting the spot beside you with a hopeful smile.

Howzer's heart did a small jump, and he walked back over to where you sat. You collected your robes up on one side, draping them over your knees, allowing him to sit close to you. He tried to hide his smile as he sat down, close enough that his shoulder brushed against yours.

He rested his head on the trunk of the tree as he sat back, his breath leaving him slowly as he felt the last rays of the sun hitting his skin and warming him.

“Everything alright?” you asked.

He hummed an affirmative, “just tired”

“I'm not surprised” you commented, “if you've only just got back”

“Yeah” Howzer breathed out, opening one eye to look at you, “how do you know when I usually get back? You been watching me?”

You laughed at the inquisitive edge to his voice, looking down to your lap as you shrugged, “I see you around, the pauldron makes you stand out”

Howzer smiled and closed his eye again. He could already feel his irritation being quelled. The sound of your laugh, the wry curl of your lips, and the twinkle in your eye taking his mind from his previous worries. Your presence distracted him so easily, so much that he hadn't even realised that he was falling asleep until you were waking him up again.

The sound of your voice calling for him brought him out a dream that he soon after forgot. You were stood above him, your expression a little worried, and he blinked a few times as he came back into consciousness fully.

“You should get to to bed”

“Right, yeah” he muttered, taking his head from the tree trunk.

You held your hands out, palms facing towards the sky that now twinkled with the suns of systems far away. He took them gently, letting you help pull him up from the floor, and once stood he looked down at your gentle smile with a fondness. You were close, almost chest to chest with him, and both of you were yet to let go of each other. Howzer skimmed his thumbs over your knuckles, and then stepped back, dropping your hands.

“Let me walk you back” he said quietly, then lifted his hand to cover his mouth as he yawned.

“I think I'll be walking you back today” you replied amusedly.

Howzer huffed a laugh, his eyes darting to the door of the barracks, “I'm only going over there”

“Well maybe I don't trust you not to fall asleep again before you get there”

When his eyes found yours again, he saw more seriousness written into your expression that he had anticipated. It twisted his stomach.

“I'm fine” he murmured, dragging his eyes away as he felt his cheeks heat with embarrassment.

“Mhm, sure”

He didn't want anyone worrying about him, and especially not you. You had bigger things to worry about, and the thought of you pitying him made him feel sick.

“Really, I'm alright” he insisted, trying to sound sincere.

You sighed, gazing up at him with a little tilt of your head.

“You needn't pretend, Howzer” you said softly, “we're friends, aren't we? I'd like you to be honest with me”

The admission of friendship made him wake up a bit more, his eyes brightening, back straightening him to his full height.

“I will be fine” he spoke honestly, a tired smile accompanying his words.

You offered him a smile in return with a slight shake of your head, “you promise?”

Howzer couldn't help the way his lips curled into a smirk. He held his hand up, all fingers curled into a fist but his fifth one, “pinky promise”

A grin spread across your face, lighting your eyes up as a delighted laugh bubbled up from your chest. You hooked your pinky with his, and Howzer had to bite back his own grin so he didn't look utterly ridiculous.

“Go on” you nodded your head over to the door, “go and rest”

“Yes ma'am” he muttered in a mockingly irritated tone.

Truthfully, your actions were tugging at something deep within him, each word pulling his chest taut. You actually cared about whether or not he was okay, and while it wasn't a grand display of affection, it was more than Howzer had received from another person.

You chuckled slightly, “Goodnight. Captain”

Howzer was wholly unprepared for your next act, and he almost let his knees fold and send him tumbling to the floor when you raised to your toes and planted a soft kiss to his cheek. The shock was evident on his face, and he knew his short breath betrayed him when you rocked back onto your heels and smirked at how flustered he was.

He had never been this affected by the actions of another another person like this. Frankly, he wanted to wipe that smirk right off of your face. In fact, all he could think at that moment was how he wanted to have you unable to even form words, at his mercy so the only sound able to pass your lips was his name. Howzer immediately scolded himself for the flurry of thoughts, all birthed from a simple kiss on the cheek. Maker, he needed to reel it back.

“Goodnight” he breathed out.

You tipped your head to him slightly, and then you were gone.

He watched your figure recede, and let his eyes roam down the back of your robe, a deep green dress that held tight to your torso and hung down past the belt at your hips. You turned to look over your shoulder, and gave him another smirk when you caught him staring.

It was then that he heard whispering coming from behind him, and his head whipped around to spot the culprits. As misfortune would have it, the two most meddlesome troopers under his command were stood in the doorway to the barracks, hissing and elbowing the other to be quiet. Howzer sighed. This wasn't going to be an easy conversation to navigate.

He strode over to the pair of them, and they straightened on instinct, though both of them had an expression that betrayed their intrigue.

“Go on, say what you're going to say” Howzer crossed his arms over his chest, struggling not to laugh himself as the two younger clones glanced to each other.

“Are you two screwi—? OW!” Oscar's prying was cut of by a swift kick to the shin by his brother.

“Sorry sir, we were only interested in knowing your relationship to the lady” Teddy explained less crudely, and a small chuckle left Howzer's lips.

They were quite the pair, and against his better judgement, they were among his favourite brothers. Oscar had a permanent case of head stuck in the gutter, but Teddy was always there to put him in his place, the more sensible of the two. Really, they were two sides of the same coin, both of them every bit as nosey as the other.

“She's a friend, not that it's any of your business” Howzer asserted, pushing past them to enter into the barracks.

“Told you” Oscar barked a laugh, causing Howzer to raise an eyebrow at him.

He turned to Teddy, “what exactly did he tell you?”

“He said that a clone like you wouldn't be able to handle a woman that ‘fine’” Teddy spoke candidly, a grin on his face at getting to rat out his brother.

“Oh, and you could?” Howzer asked the first clone, who admittedly looked a little apologetic until he got the chance to show off his practiced act of bravado.

“Absolutely” Oscar smirked broadly, his hands resting on the back of his head as he leaned back into the wall, “when she's tired of you, send her over to me and I'll show her a good time”

“Please” Teddy rolled his eyes, “you wouldn't know a good time if it socked you in the face”

“Shows what you know” Oscar prodded his brother in the stomach, “being socked in the face isn't a good time”

Howzer knew Oscar was all talk. He had seen his many attempts of hitting on women in their infrequent trips to the bar, and it was some pretty poor work, all clichés and boasting. It was lucky he was good with a Z-6 rotary, because off the battlefield he was sorely lacking. Teddy was a little more of a sensitive soul in comparison to his batchmate, weary of treading on other people's toes — Oscar being the exception.

“That's not—” Teddy sighed, “maker, you're stupid”

“Only as stupid as you, brother”

Oscar let them continue their good natured bickering, laying down on his bunk and letting out a deep sigh. It wasn't the most comfortable thing in the galaxy, but Howzer was thankful for it in that moment.

His thoughts quickly dwelled on you. It was almost alarming, how quick his mind travelled there when given the freedom to think about anything. As he unclipped the pieces of his armour and slid beneath the sheet of his bunk, the only thing on his mind was your smirk. That maddening expression had its claws in him, tempting him in a way that he desperately tried not to acknowledge. You had just called him your friend, and you were far above him in the grand scheme of things, he couldn't afford to think like that.

Despite that, the expression burned into his brain, taunting him, begging him to give in, and his brain conjured up lewd images without his permission. He pushed them away, but they still lingered despite his attempts.

Howzer gulped. He was in big trouble.

The next few evenings were among the most relaxing times that Howzer had experienced since the end of the war, however ironic that seemed to him.

He sat with you under the tree, and at first neither of you would speak all that much. You sat opposite him, facing him so that he couldn’t see what you were writing in your flimsibook, only looking up to him periodically. Howzer took that same time to rest, and then as the evening turned to night, the comfortable silence turned to pleasant conversation.

You asked about his opinion on a number of matters, and he was embarrassed to admit to you that many of them were things he had never considered before. You didn't treat him as deficient for it, though, instead you helped him form his opinions in asking more questions.

You were very intelligent, that much was obvious to Howzer now. You seemed to have a vast base of knowledge, and you had a certain way with words that told him you were educated, but it was a lot more than that. You were empathetic, which he felt was a better scale for measuring intelligence, especially after the senate discussions he had listened to over the last few weeks.

None of those senatorial representatives had a single kind bone in their body, and their views seemed plainly misguided and frankly stupid for it. You were the antithesis, and that was probably why he was so drawn to you from the beginning.

It was getting harder to pretend that you had no effect on him, and it seemed like you knew that, that you were trying to make it harder. In every conversation, you seemed more flirty than in the one before, and Howzer was beginning to think he wasn’t imagining it. He couldn't return the advances. He was deathly afraid of reading the situation wrong, and he wouldn't lose the comfort of your friendship just because he got a bit ahead of himself.

When he arrived at the tree one day after being let off duty, and you weren't there, he was more than a little confused. You had been there everyday since arriving on the planet, and for a moment he was stricken with a nasty feeling that something was wrong. He waited beneath the tree for a little while, but it was quickly becoming apparent that you just weren't going to be joining him today.

He thought about where you could possibly be, and it crossed his mind that you may just be at your residence. In spite of the thought, he found his feet carrying him out of the city.

The sun was blinding, just beginning to make it's descent below the horizon and lighting the pathway between the trees of the forest as if directing him to the correct place. This walk had always calmed him, so even if you weren't waiting at the end of it, it wouldn't be in vain.

As he approached the lake, he saw the way your robe was laid out on the floor, as if it had been discarded, and at first his heart jumped to his throat. A few more of your belongings were there, your flimsibook and stylus, jewellery and boots. Luckily, before he could get too worried about what might have happened to you, he heard his name called.

His gaze whipped over to the voice, and his eyes laid upon you, treading water in the shaded part of the lake. He could feel the way his heart jumped, beating faster in his chest at the sight.

“What are you doing?” he asked, stepping towards the edge of the lake.

“Taking a dip” you said simply, “you want to join?”

Howzer paused, giving you a somewhat exasperated look, “I really shouldn't”

“Why not?”

Howzer knew why he shouldn't. It was grossly inappropriate, even being friends with a senate official and spending time with them off duty was most likely frowned upon. This felt different though.

“Well, I, uh— I don't have the right… attire” he tried to reason.

“Neither do I” you shrugged.

Howzer’s mind was reeling. He was trying desperately to keep his thoughts in check, but that taunting smirk was decorating your face, and it was probably his greatest weakness.

“Come on Captain, live dangerously” you called over to him, your voice particularly coquettish.

He watched you carefully, trying to find any indication of your intentions in the way you looked at him. It was strange, you were still so hard to read, but he felt like he could see right through you at the same time. You were toying with him in some way, but he couldn't tell why.

His fingers took the lead, and started unclipping his armour with your eyes following his movements, watching as every piece slid from his body. By the time he was peeling back his blacks, revealing tanned skin that very few people had seen before, he couldn't help but think that the way you were drinking him in was far from innocent. It sent a thrill through him, but he was still weary of his thoughts betraying him.

When he'd stripped down to just his underwear, he waded into the water tentatively. It wasn't freezing, but it certainly wasn't warm, and he couldn't stop the way he shivered. As the bottom of the lake fell away, he swam over, joining you in the shade.

Seeing you up close was electrifying. Maybe it was that he hadn't ever seen you without all of the usual opulence of your senatorial garb, or maybe it was the fact that you were only wearing your underwear, but he relished in seeing this different side to you. You were beautiful, and usually it was acknowledged alongside your prestige, but now it was in spite of the absence.

With any identifying items stripped from you, you were just a person, as he was. Suddenly you didn't seem as terrifying, your gentle smile inviting and natural, and Howzer could feel himself becoming even more entranced by you.

“What brought you here today?” you asked.

“I, uh—” Howzer was having trouble focusing, but he realised that he came looking for you, and something about your expression told him you might know that, “you weren't under the tree, I just wondered where you were”

“Why's that?” you tilted your head to the side a little, feigning innocence.

Howzer bit the inside of his cheek as he watched you for a moment. He wouldn't ordinarily speak the truth, but everything about the situation was clouding his mind.

“I like spending time with you” he said honestly, and your eyebrows raised, “is that a surprise?”

“Not exactly” you spoke thoughtfully, “I just didn't expect you to say so”

“Why’s that” he mocked the tone of your voice, which drew a laugh from you that made his smile grow.

“Well, you're usually very restrained”

Howzer raised a brow, shifting marginally closer to you, “restrained?”

You bit the corner of your lip a little, “guarded, then”

“Hm” Howzer hummed, narrowing his eyes, “well… I am a soldier”

You smirked, “that you are”

Howzer cocked his head to the side, as if to ask what was going on in your mind. He felt that he knew you better now, but you were still such an enigma to him. For all that you were calling him guarded, he could only think of a handful of times where you had completely relaxed around him, and spoke in a way that was discernibly candid.

Before he could ask what you meant, you swam closer to him, a lot closer to him.

“How did you get these?” your tone was softer as you reached out and touched the scar on his chin, and then the one on his cheek, rubbing your thumb across it gently.

Howzer could feel the heat of your body through the water with you being so close to him, and the feel of you caressing his face was just too much to deal with. He couldn't speak, and when you looked into his eyes he had to gulp down the saliva that was pooling in his mouth.

“Explosion” he managed to get out, “shrapnel. There— there was a kid, I—’

He found his words stuck in his throat, your gaze and your touch holding them captive as he became absolutely mesmerised.

“You… what?” you prompted, snapping him from his trance.

“I was protecting the kid… from the blast”

The edges of your lips lifted, your eyes crinkling a little, “that's very honourable, soldier”

The word sounded undeniably affectionate, like a nickname of sorts. You took your hand away from his cheek and swam backwards slightly, and Howzer let out a breath that he hadn't realised he was holding in.

“It's just what any clone would have done” he reasoned, his tone a little flippant as he denied your claim.

“Hm” your gaze was scrutinising as you thinned your eyes at him, “I think you're just being modest”

Howzer chuckled, a slightly nervous sound that didn't suit him, “I don't feel very modest right now”

He had said it quietly, more to himself than anything, but you laughed anyway.

“I can look away, if you want?” you teased, and his cheeks heated as he rolled his eyes, forcing his gaze away. “I'll spare you” you grinned, swimming away towards your discarded clothes.

Howzer tried desperately to pull his eyes away from you as you emerged from the lake, but with the way the water was sliding from your skin, crystal droplets that twinkled in the sun as they followed the contours of your body, he simply couldn't.

Suddenly he was struck by how inappropriate this was. He shouldn't be seeing you like this. If anyone found the two of you like this, unclothed and having been so close to each other — whatever the context — he couldn't be sure what would happen to him.

It was forbidden for clones to form relationships, to give themselves to someone other than the Empire, and the Republic before that. You knew this, Howzer knew you did, you must have. You had campaigned for clone rights within the senate, there was no way you didn't know that it was prohibited to get close to him in that way.

Suddenly nothing made sense anymore.

Either you had never been flirting with him in the first place, which was admittedly fine if not a blow to his pride, or you were a whole lot crueller than he had realised. He didn't truly believe that you were capable of a cruelty such as that. He knew you to be kind, he knew you to be caring, far more caring than any Senator he'd ever met. Though, at the end of the day, you were still a politician. Perhaps it didn't matter that you seemed to be concerned with things such as clone rights or the other changes you sought to make to the Senate, perhaps you were still as removed from the general public that you sought your own desires above everything else.

The idea of that being him, however it had excited him previously, now filled him with disgust.

He dragged himself from the lake, quickly dressing in silence, even as the water made his blacks stick to him uncomfortably. He didn't look over at you, some form of animosity washing over him that he tried to brush away. It felt uncomfortable, he didn't want to feel this way about you. It didn't feel right, it was incongruent with how he truly felt, but that was what made everything so confusing.

“Is everything alright?”

He glanced over to you, your expression conveying concern as you did up the final buttons of your robe. Howzer forced his eyes away as he slipped his pauldron into place, “fine”

The word sounded bitter, and he cringed at the harshness of his tone.

“Are you sure?” you asked, your hand laying on his forearm and stopping his movements.

He looked back up, and the compassion in your eyes only sought to make his head spin with conflicting thoughts.

“You shouldn't have done that” the words fell from his mouth without permission, and the way you receded from him, your expression wounded, he raced to add, “I shouldn't have”

Your brows drew together slightly, “done what?”

An enervated noise escaped him, not really willing to admit his feelings for you, especially if he had entirely misread the situation.

“We can't be… close. It's against the rules, against my… code” he mumbled out, his words not sounding as definitive and confident as he wished.

“Oh” your face fell even further, “right, of course. I apologise”

Howzer’s heart lurched at your hurt expression, knowing that he was the one who had caused it. He watched you gather your things, slipping your jewellery back on and with it your authoritative demeanour and stony politician’s mask, and his heart clenched tighter in his chest. You grabbed your flimsibook and stylus, and before he could speak up again to explain himself, you had given him a curt nod and were walking away.

His hand stretched out as if to grab you and stop your leaving, but you were much too far away for that now. He felt a fool, reaching for something that could never be, and a painful sight of his own making.

The next day was difficult, for everyone.

The dispute between Cham, man of the people, and Senator Taa, decidedly the opposite, had reached its climax. It was at the stage of all out disagreement and discussion had given way to argument. There were raised voices, pointing fingers, flaring nostrils, and it was bordering on name calling. Howzer didn't know how to cope with it.

He was inclined to step in and hold both parties back, even if they were at opposite ends of the large wooden table, but he knew that was well beyond his jurisdiction. Everyone else had joined in, not as outwardly outraged as Cham or as vehement as Ora Free Taa, but more animated nonetheless.

Everyone, except you.

Howzer watched the way your teeth ground together, eyes cold and darting around at the other delegates, and he could tell you were far angrier than he'd ever seen you. He wanted to reach out and offer some kind of support, a natural instinct, but he couldn't do anything of the sort, and besides, you would scarcely look at him.

It hurt, as much as it was necessary.

He knew that he had done the right thing, ending whatever there was between you before it began, and for that, he was proud of his restraint, but with the way you turned your gaze from him at every juncture, it certainly didn't feel like it.

So he watched on, his stomach twisted in guilt and his heart reaching out for you despite it all.

Your lip twitched as one of the other senate officials said something so morally reprehensible about the people of Ryloth and how they were viewed by the new Imperial senate, that Howzer actually let out a tiny gasp. Another official backed them up, and soon almost everyone was giving their two credits, the tone of conversation turning more and more sinister as it was being allowed to breed in the hateful speech that was being spewed.

“Stop!” you suddenly shouted above the racket, leaping up from your seat, a fist clenched and slamming into the table.

The room fell silent, and you breathed heavily for a moment before you spoke up again, your tone vicious and scathing.

“I cannot sit by and listen to this hateful drivel any longer. Ryloth deserves better than this, our people deserve more than all of you as their leaders. Do none of you have hearts? Can you not see that acting this way, choosing to go through with these plans, will only drive our planet further towards poverty, towards insecurity and scarcity, is that really what you want for our people?”

Howzer could feel his heart beating out of his chest. Your sudden display of passion and empathy for your people made his knees feel weak, threatening to bring him to the ground. You commanded the room, all eyes turned to you and hanging on every word. He knew that you cared more than the average Senator, but seeing you showcase it made his admiration grow once more.

“Aren't you just an aide? Why should we listen to you?” one of the other Twi'lek's asked, and you released a humourless laugh that sent a shiver running down Howzer's spine.

“I am a senate representative, sir. Do you know what that means?” you asked facetiously, and Howzer's eyebrow raised, an impressed smirk playing on his lips, “I am above you, and you will listen to me when I tell you that your way of thinking will be the downfall of our people. It's people like you that make me—”

“Stand down representative” the firm voice of Orn Free Taa called, and your head twinged to the side to send him a sharp look.

“Senator, surely we can't allow—”

“We will allow nothing, only I can and will decide what action to take. You have no power here, you're nothing, not while I am around” he spoke fiercely, and you backed down immediately, like a wounded animal at the mercy of its predator.

It was hard to watch, the way you sunk into your chair after being scolded, belittled in front of everyone. Your posture was slumped, your face turned downwards and an embarrassed blush scorching your cheeks. Your eyes snapped up for a moment, just enough to catch Howzer's sympathetic gaze and then to tear them away again.

The session was concluded shortly after, the setting sun quelling any arguments as everyone wished to leave the tense environment and get back to their homes for some peace. As soon as you were dismissed, you sped right past Howzer, storming from the room with a deep frown that made his worry for you grow.

He ran after you once everyone else had filed from the room, speeding through the bureau halls and bursting out into the courtyard. You were halfway across it by the time he caught up to you, calling your name even though it didn't make you slow your hurried pace.

Howzer gently grabbed your wrist, tugging on it inadvertently when you didn't immediately stop. You swivelled around, a thoroughly displeased expression contorting your features. His words failed him, not knowing how to comfort you in that moment.

“I'm so sorry” he said earnestly, “he shouldn't get to treat you like that. You're not nothing, don't let his words hurt you”

“I don't care about that” you scoffed, “it's his actions that hurt me, and the way that none of them actually seem to care about what happens to this planet”

“I know, I know” Howzer nodded, his tone soothing as his thumb brushed over your pulse point, “I'm sorry they won't listen to you”

Your eyes dropped to where his hand still enveloped your wrist, bringing your other hand to cover it for a moment, before you removed yourself from his grip.

“Thank you, then” you gave him a tight smile, and as much as it was strained, he could tell it was genuine.

“Can I walk you back?” he asked quietly, locking eyes with you and finding a reluctant tenderness.

“No” you replied curtly, swallowing anymore words that could have found their way past your lips, “goodnight Captain”

For the second day in a row, Howzer watched you walking away from him, your feet carrying you with the same grace despite your more hurried steps. He felt awful that he had thought so lowly of you the previous day, that he had even entertained the idea that you were as selfish and self-important as the other politicians.

He decided then, stood in the middle of the square, that he hated the sight of you leaving him, and that thought would continue to fester uncomfortably within him for the foreseeable future.

taglist: @darthnihila @cdblake1565 @heidnspeak @mae-lou-ron @burningnerdchild

[gamercookies]

Giving thanks for..

Genre: smut, enemies to lovers.

Word count:2.8k+

Warnings: rough!ni-ki, shy!y/n, fingering “under the table”, worshipping, unprotected sex, teasing, dirty talk, praising, throat-fucking, hate-fuck.  Note: I love making these stories idk why but they peak my interest so much!! I know it’s not thanksgiving yet but imma be busy on those days I’m off, but plz enjoy :3 and take care of urself 💕🙏🏼

You’ve been enemies for a really long time. Ni-ki, which you couldn't stand him, had been teasing and humiliating you throughout school. But then, out of the blue, he invited you to his family's Thanksgiving dinner. Sure, there would be the usual “I‘m grateful for…” moments, so you figured nothing too surprising would unfold, right?

Today you were just chilling at home alone while your parents were at their hometown enjoying thanksgiving dinner, you felt bored, alone. Of course you didn’t want to go because you didn’t feel like it. But once you finished an hour call with them, you stared up at the ceiling from the bed. 

You sigh in boredom, sitting back up from the bed. “What am I gonna do, I’m all alone.. I guess I can make dinner for myself and watch some Netflix or something.” Suddenly you receive a notification from your phone, you assume “oh! Maybe my parents sent a picture of themselves!” You check but your excited expression turns into shock and confusion.. it says: “Hey y/n, sorry to annoy you as always lol 😂, but anyways I was wondering if you’re interested in coming over to my house for thanksgiving I have no one to enjoy besides my parents.” 

“What?! Ni-ki.. he seriously invited you to his thanksgiving dinner, seriously?” You tell yourself blankly staring at the message for minutes. You roll your eyes and reply: 

“Fine. 😒Only because I also have nothing to do, fine I’ll come over. What time?” 

He types back: “Around 6PM, it will just be a normal thanksgiving, nothing out of the ordinary. 😊” 

… 

It’s 6PM and you’ve just arrived in front of his home, and you ring the doorbell. You stand there waiting for him or someone to open. You know you look stunning in that red dress, which perfectly highlights your curves without being overly short. Then Niki opens the door, “Hey y/n, come on in, I’ll introduce you to my parents.” As he gestured you to walk in. “Thank you.” You say, as he shuts the front door leading you to the dining table. You see a neatly organized dinning table, with a candle in the middle.  

Ni-ki clears this throat and speaks, “Mom, dad. This is y/n, a “friend” of mine I invited, I hope you guys don’t mind her.” His mom replies, “N-no we don’t mind! Hello, y/n. Please I don’t mind you inviting her over, please sit down and join us for dinner today.” You look at his mother and smile politely, as you take your seat. “Hello, Mrs. It’s nice to meet you, it’s kind enough of your son to invite me over, since my parents are at their hometown enjoying thanksgiving.” His father speaks behalf, “Oh no worries! That’s very nice of our son to do that, inviting someone like you over, you seem a very well polite girl so there’s no harm in that.” Ni-ki then sits down next to you, “Yeah, I felt like that’s a nice thing to do behalf that it’s thanksgiving, we should be kind to each other, right y/n?” As he says that sarcastically. 

You feel a bit nervous about meeting his parents, but you manage to smile and nod. “Of course, it's a good thing to invite friends over." You say softly, trying not to show how anxious you really feel. To pass the time waiting for the dinner his parents and especially you talk about how you’ve been, your parents, mostly about your life. But then his father asks, “Do you have a boyfriend yet, young lady?” 

You blush slightly, feeling a little embarrassed by the question. "Well, I haven't found anyone who really catches my interest yet," you admit shyly.

"Maybe one day soon though!" You add quickly, hoping to change the subject before things get too awkward. 

But it gets interrupted as soon as the food arrives. You smell all of the delicious aromas wafting from the dishes. "Wow... everything looks amazing!" You exclaim enthusiastically, trying to cover up your earlier blunder. “Who’s cutting the turkey today?” 

Niki looks around, his parents and you seem to be waiting for someone to cut into the turkey. He takes a deep breath and stands up. "I'll do it," he announces confidently. "After all, it's Thanksgiving.” With that said, he walks over to where the turkey is sitting and grabs a knife. He gives it one swift stroke, carving off a piece of meat before placing it onto a plate. You can’t help but deny the way he looks in that suit, the way he picks up that knife, it’s like you wanna touch him.

But you then take a bite of some turkey and gravy - it's even better than it smells! As you all savor the meal throughout the evening, saying what you’re grateful for, besides Niki.. and of course, remembering to keep dinner etiquette in mind, everything was smooth. But soon enough you feel ni-ki leaning against you, his hot breath in your ear. “You look damn good in this dress.. I can’t help but notice it so much.” You blush deeply at his compliment, your heart pounding in your chest. You're not used to receiving compliments like this, especially not from someone as attractive as him. “T-thanks.. I mean I have to look presentable to your parents..” After you finish your food, you place your fork down gently and lean back in your chair. You take a deep breath to calm your racing heart. “Was the food good, sweetie? I made it this morning.” His mother smiles softly at you. 

Before you could respond, you feel a hand sliding up and down your thigh making you gasp quietly. “What the..” you mutter to yourself, as Ni-ki continues doing that under the table. You try to play it cool despite losing focus on the conversation. 

"O-oh, your food was amazing!", you respond sincerely, doing your best to ignore Ni-ki’s wandering hand. "I've never had such delicious mashed potatoes before..." He then leans over you and whispers with a small smirk, “I didn’t invite you just for a normal thanksgiving, I also wanted something else.. to tease and make you feel humiliated in front of my parents.” But then, Ni-ki’s mother speaks trying to get your attention, “Sweetie? You okay..? I was asking you where do you plan to go for vacation next month with your parents?” Ni-ki then slides your panties aside and inserts 2 fingers inside you without warning.

“O-oh! I was thinking maybe Thailand-ah!” You say making you blush in embarrassment, “Sorry about that.. it’s just something accidentally hit me. You shift uncomfortably in your seat, doing your best to keep a neutral expression. 

“Thailand sounds lovely! It’s a wonderful place to travel.. when I was young..” she continues talking while you continue trying to hold your moans infront of them two. “Ni-ki.. stop that.. it’s embarrassing..” you whisper to him. “Come on~ your pussy deserves my fingers in you now, you make me crave you so much in that dress.” He says in a low, sultry voice. 

His mother notices the blush on your face and the discomfort in your voice, but assumes it's due to the heat of the room or perhaps nervousness from being in new surroundings.

"Oh dear, I apologize if we're making you uncomfortable. We just love sharing stories about our travels!", she says reassuringly. 

“N-no Mrs.. it’s not your fault it’s just it’s a bit hot right now.”, as you manage to choke out between stifled moans. Ni-Ki’s father then speaks, “We’ll clean up the mess, why don’t you show her your room.” 

Ni-Ki inserts a third finger, making you moan quietly. “Yes of course father, I’ll kindly show her my room.” And with that both of his parents head to the kitchen with the dirty plates, and utensils. You finally pull his hand away from your pussy, “What was that for Ni-ki!? You can’t just do that while I’m talking to them.. that’s embarrassing. I nearly came all over your hand.”  He winks, “Oh really? because I really wanted that pussy of yours.. I couldn’t resist.” “Now come on, let’s head to my room, shall we~?” He takes your hand to make you stand up so you can follow Ni-ki upstairs to his room. Once the door is closed behind you, he pins you against it.

"You know," he murmurs seductively, "Your little moans were music to my ears..." Before you can respond, he silences you with a passionate kiss. His tongue explores your mouth while his hands roam freely over your body. “I should worship your pussy.. eating you out, making you moan..~” 

You quickly responded blushing deep red. “N-no that’s a bad idea.. especially right now..” Hearing your protests, Ni-ki pulls away with a playful grin. "What's the fun in all this if we don't take risks?" He teases, pressing himself closer against you. “No im going home, I’m not doing your kinky ideas with you.”  Ni-ki seeing you attempt to leave, grabs your wrist tightly. "Running away so soon?" He chuckles darkly, pulling you back towards him. Without warning, he kisses you passionately once more. His other hand reaches down to cup your breast roughly through the fabric of your dress. 

“Mmph! F-fine I want it! But this is a one-time thing, we are still enemies.” You stumble to say, as he releases your wrist and moves to unzip your dress hastily. "Just remember..." he whispers into your ear, "This doesn't change anything between us..." And with that, he pushes you onto his bed and begins undressing you fully, and he kneels in front of you. “Let me worship your pussy.. I can tell it’s already wet from my fingers, naughty girl..” 

"F-fine! Go ahead," you finally relent, biting your lip nervously. “But only this once."  His tongue laps at your clit with expert precision, causing waves of pleasure to ripple through your body.

"Mmm...so tasty..." he murmurs against you before continuing his relentless assault on your sensitive nub. “Ah~! Fuck.. k-keep going..” you moan but you quickly cover your mouth making sure no one hears you. Ni-ki increases the pressure of his tongue on your clit. His hands grip your thighs tightly, holding you in place as he devours you and makes your legs tremble, "Oh God...I'm close!", you gasp out, writhing beneath him. Noticing your impending climax, Ni-ki slows his pace slightly, prolonging your torture. He looks up at you with a devilish grin.

"Not so fast, sweetheart..." he purrs, "I haven't finished yet." You whine desperately, “N-no please I’m close! I need to cum..”

"Oh, is that so?" he teases, trailing his tongue along your inner thigh. "That's the point isn't it?" he teases again, "To feel pleasure so intense that you can barely stand it?" “N-Niki!" you cry out, clenching the sheets beneath. "Please...don't tease me like this! I really need to cum.. come on.” Niki chuckles darkly, his eyes filled with mischief as he watches you squirm underneath him. He knew how to push your buttons, knew exactly what to say and do to get a rise out of you. “What's wrong, sweetness?" he purrs mockingly, "Can't handle a little teasing?" You whine again and looks at him with pleading eyes, “No! I mean yes! Just shut up and let me cum! You asshole! Please.. I need to cum so badly..!”

Niki laughs, his hot breath tickling your skin as he leans in closer. 

He takes a moment to savor the desperation lacing your words. "Fine," he concedes, sliding a finger inside of you. "But only because I want to see those pretty eyes roll back into your head." “Yes please..! I’m gonna.. fuck! Gonna..”, You quickly grab a pillow to cover your moans as you cum onto his face. Niki licks up every last drop of your sweet release, savoring the taste of you on his tongue. He pulls back slowly, standing up to look down at you with a satisfied smirk. “Good girl, I might just fuck you right now while we at it, how about you ride me?” 

"No way I’m not riding you! You’re an asshole!” As you stand up from his bed. “Plus your parents are washing dishes, we can’t just do that..they might hear us!” He smirks pushing you back onto the bed, “Oh come on.. we could make some noise, who cares about them..” He tries to persuade you. “You might like it when you’re handcuffed, I have them.” 

You roll your eyes and scoff at him, “Ugh.. whatever I’ll ride you while I’m handcuffed…” “Really?” Niki asks surprised, “Well alright then.” He goes to his drawer and takes out a pair of handcuffs. “Put these on.” “Alright.”, you say as you hold out your wrists for him to cuff you. Once he locks them, he smirks, “Fuck, you look sexy like this, handcuffed.. I can easily do anything to you.” He reaches down and unzips his pants, freeing his thick member. It throbs slightly as it bobs free from its confines.  "Here," he says, offering you his shaft. "Why don't you start by sucking on this?"

“Alright, I’ll please you..” You say as you lean down taking his cock in your mouth. You bob your head slowly licking his tip before sliding down further, taking half of his dick in your mouth. Without warning, he thrusts deeper into your mouth. His cock hits the back of your throat, causing you to gag around him. “Mmph!~Too big and deep.!” You manage to say while he doesn't stop though; instead, he continues to fuck your face ruthlessly.

You tease him back by saying, “I’ll pull my mouth out-” “No you won’t,” he says. “Or else I will kick you outta of my house and make sure you never return.” Then he forces his way inside your mouth again, his member hitting the back of your throat, forcing another round of gags from you. As he keeps fucking your throat, you slap his leg hard, trying to signal him to stop. Ignoring your weak attempt to resist, Niki continues to thrust into your mouth. He can feel the familiar tingling at the base of his spine, signaling his imminent release.

"That's it..." he groans, "I'm gonna cum..."

Before long, he explodes inside your mouth. His hot seed fills your mouth and spills onto your chin as he rides out his orgasm.  "There..." he pants, "That wasn't so bad was it? Now why don't you get those pretty legs of yours moving and ride me like a good girl." “O-okay..” You stutter out as you position yourself to sit on his cock despite being handcuffed. With a single thrust, he buries himself deep within you. 

"Fuck..." he groans, "So tight..." As he begins to move beneath you, bucking his hips upwards to meet each of your downward thrusts. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room as they make love roughy. "Ride me baby," he growls, "Show me how much of an asshole you think I am." “Fuck.. you..! Ah~!” , you moan out quietly. “J-just don’t thrust up more..” “Oh, is that what you want?" He teases, "Don't worry, I'll make sure to keep things gentle for you." Despite his promise, he continues to thrust up into you ruthlessly. His large member filling you over and over again until both of you are panting heavily. "You like that?" he growls quietly, "You like being fucked by an asshole like me?" 

“I hate you so much! Ahh~” you continue to moan out as you start to ride him faster, grinding your clit against him as you ride him. Niki groans deeply as you grind against him, his hands gripping your hips tightly. He can feel the heat building up within him again.

"Fucking hell..." he mutters, "You're such a naughty girl..." With one final thrust, he buries himself deep inside of you. His hot seed spurts inside of you as he releases inside of you. “Fuck.. I’m cumming too..!” Niki grunts as he feels you tighten around him, your own climax rippling through your body. He can feel every spasm and twitch of your pussy as you cum. "Good girl," he murmurs, "That was quite the show." As he uncuff and removes the handcuffs from your wrists, “There.. am I still an asshole to you, y/n? Despite panting you responded, “n-no.. you were good, I give you that. I guess we aren’t really enemies anymore.” 

Suddenly you both hear a knock, his father was yelling from the door while Ni-ki’s mother was standing next to him, “Ni-ki, y/n, Are you okay? I hear some noise and wanted to make sure you guys were okay!” 

Niki sighs as he hears his parent's voices, realizing that they've been too loud. He quickly pulls up his pants and straightens out his shirt. "Yeah dad, we're fine," he calls out, "Just having a little fun." He looks at you with a smirk, "Guess we better clean up real quick."

You smirk and laugh at him, “I told you this could’ve happened.” He laughs softly, "Yeah, you did." Niki gives you a playful wink, "Maybe next time we should try to be quieter especially you, y/n." As he listens to his parent's footsteps fade away, he relaxes again. Turning back to you, he grins mischievously. “One last thing.., I’m grateful today for eating your pussy today, y/n.” 

[gothamite-rambler]

Damian meets Swamp Thing

Context: This is based on one of the canon's but I do like this one the most. Absorbing the memories of the dead person you think you are has always been a fascinating trope. Plus Damian wanting to help out villains he finds interesting is just heroic and sweet thing for him to do.

Alec (Swamp Thing): Hey, little dude. Awesome to meet a new Robin! I really love the representation. We need more diversity in the Bat League.

Batman: I have heroes of other races—wait, I’m going to stop there before I say something inappropriate.

Damian, dressed in his Robin suit, chuckled at his father's embarrassment.

Alec: It’s cool, Batman. I get you. You’re a cool hero, and you seem to take care of these kids. Ivy really likes one of them a lot.

Batman: I’m painfully aware of that.

Alec: I was thrown off by it too. Back to the little dude—Robin, I love this suit. Rock on, little dude!

Damian smiled, his head down. Batman cleared his throat to remind the young Robin to focus on why they were there. Robin nodded, preparing to speak.

Damian: Mr. Swamp Thing—

Alec (in a chill tone): You can call me Alec. Swamp Thing is what my enemies call me.

Damian (slightly surprised): Oh, so we're not enemies?

Alec: Nah, you’re friends with Ivy's girlfriend, and she’s pretty chill. Ivy seriously needed that kind of positive vibe.

Damian nodded with a prideful smile, then glanced at his father, subtly rubbing in that another villain liked him. Batman rolled his eyes and waved a hand for his son to hurry up.

Damian (to Alec): I agree, sir. This conversation is going well, and I hope not to offend you, but I was curious about one thing: Are you a former human turned into a swamp creature, or a sentient plant that has absorbed all of Alec's memories?

Damian placed his hands behind his back, waiting for an answer, while Batman heaved a heavy sigh, too embarrassed to speak.

Batman (to himself): I would've gotten to the point already.

Alec (surprised): Oh… wow. I haven’t been asked that in a long, long time.

Damian: Is it okay if I ask? Batman said it was wildly inappropriate and you'd "go berserk" if I asked that, and then I wouldn’t be able to ask any further questions. Right, Batman?!

Damian looked up at his father, who remained silent, covering his eyes in frustration and holding his head down.

Damian: I think that means yes. My apologies, Alec, I’m a curious child. I love to learn about criminals or former criminals such as yourself. I'm not going to judge you or anything.

Alec: You're okay, little Robin. I accepted what I am a long time ago. I couldn’t deal with humans, though; that’s why I live here, surrounded by the swampy foliage—meditating and stuff like that. My 'birth' is odd, to say the least. I’m a hundred percent plant, but I absorbed most of the original Alec's memories. The poor guy died in the explosion that created me, and his body sank deep into a swampy marsh. After going through an existential crisis, I searched for him and buried his body in a better spot.

Damian: Oh... that's quite the bittersweet origin story. It’s reassuring to see you’ve had good personal growth since then.

Batman (chiming in, exasperated tone): Robin, he killed so many people and almost created plant zombies.

Damian: And you invite Red Hood over for Thanksgiving; you have no room to talk.

Alec laughed, then sighed with a smile.

Alec: Yeah, don’t worry; I’m not doing anything evil anymore. I did some goon work for a few years and worked with Ivy, but I’m retired now. I enjoy spending my days chillaxing here, keeping my zen in check. Gotta make sure to avoid toxic outlets, you know?

Damian: I do. I'm not giving up my iPhone, but I get it. I'm glad you've reached that level of enlightenment; you can reject my offer. Thing is, I helped out Mr. Freeze and was wondering if you needed any assistance?

Alec smiled and shook his head.

Alec: While I appreciate you wanting to help, I'm good.

Damian: Hm, are you sure? I can do a lot, especially with my dad's money. Batman knows my dad; he can help, right, Batman?!

Batman (deadpan): Trust me, when I talk to your father, you’re going to be so grounded.

Damian (chuckling): Worth it.

Alec (crossing his arms): How about this? If I do need something from you guys, you'll be the first I contact.

Damian: That works. Here’s a phone to make it easier to reach me. It’s solar-powered, so there’s no need to charge it like a regular cell phone. It’s waterproof and gets reception in this bayou. My number is on there, along with Ivy's, Harley's, and Batman's.

Batman (angry): I told you not to involve me in this!

Damian (gritting his teeth): You know my rich father, so you're helping!

Batman: Okay, fine. I’m going to the car, and we’re having a talk when we drive home.

Batman walked off as Damian handed the phone to Alec. Alec took it with a genuine smile, surprised.

Alec: I have to say, I’m not too into these cell phones. They’re bad for the environment and the mind. But this seems like a pretty simple touchscreen. Thanks, kid.

Damian gave a thumbs up.

Damian: It’s what heroes do. All right, Batman is ready to go. See you around, Alec.

Damian put up the hood on his suit and walked off as Alec opened a music app on the phone.

Alec (smiling): Huh, the kid's not that bad.

[fashionteahouse]

Can I get a she fell first he fell harder where reader always had a crush on embry all throughout high school and always asked him out but he always rejected her nicely until she gave up then they meet again but she’s over him so he has to work extra hard to get her attention smut included???

ofc you can ! XD hope you enjoy :)

coming back - embry x reader

Barely being able to maintain eye contact, the floor and his shirt covered chest was more interesting. You felt fluttery and a fiery blush stained your cheeks.

“You dropped this.” he tells you. He held out a mitten that you dropped and you take it back.

“Thanks.” you say to him with a smile. He was so kind and warm. That’s why it was so addicting to be in his presence. You watch starry eyed as he walked away.

With his body now out of your view, your eyes then flicker to a paper hung up on the hallway wall.

You weren’t going to go. But, you had a newfound form of hope.

The next morning, you woke up earlier than your usual wake up time.

You made sure to make sure you looked extra nice.

You found him at his locker, he was alone. He was taking his jacket off to put it in there. You tap his shoulder as you walked up behind him.

He turns around and says hi, remembering the interaction from yesterday. He displayed a kind smile. Your heart skips a beat as you see that what he’s wearing looks great on him.

“I just um… wanted to know if you were going to Homecoming?” you say, you tried to hide the fact that you were nervous.

“Mm…I don’t think so. Are you?” he asks after thinking of the idea of going to a school dance.

“Yeah. I mean..I don’t know..But, um we could like..Go together?” you offer. There, you threw it out there.

A soft smile, “Oh. I think I’m going to sit this one out. But, thanks for asking though.” he says and off he goes to where his friends were at.

You sigh in defeat.

You didn’t go as well. You didn’t want to see people at your school dressed up for a dance and Embry wasn’t there. You still had hope.

You still made sure to speak to him when you did see him. He kept it brief.

One day in science class, it was a lab day. The teacher wanted the students to do a gravity experiment with dropping small balls and calculate how long it took for the small ball to drop to the ground.

The thing was, she wanted everyone to do it in the hallway since there was a balcony that showed the first floor of the school.

You were partnered up and you ran down the steps to retrieve the ball from the first floor. Your partner wrote down the time as they paused the stop watch.

Scooping the ball into your hand, you look over and see Embry walking.

“Hey.” you say with a smile.

“Hi.” he says back. He kept walking. You were a bit sad that he wasn’t curious about what you were doing, or showing interest that he wanted to talk more.

You did your best. Wearing what looked good, putting effort into your appearance. You stared at him as he would walk past. One time, he did look, but he just kept walking.

You heard his friends, wishing him a happy birthday. You smile as you look at the date, you made sure to keep note of the day’s date.

When he was in line at lunch, luckily his friends didn’t join him yet.

“Hey, birthday boy.” you say, he turns to see you and he chuckles lightly.

“Hey.”

“Have any plans?”

“Uh..Not really. Most of my friends have work. We’re going to celebrate it on the weekend.” he answers.

“Well..I could take you out. My treat.” you say.

He takes a look, you’re glad that you look nice today, the smile you gave him showed a lot of interest and you watched his eyes as he made a decision.

“That’s okay. I will just chill at home. Thanks for asking though.” he says with a polite smile and carries his tray away.

Your shoulder slump forward due to defeat. Even though luck was not on your side, you still had an ounce of hope.

You however, found yourself getting a tad bit jealous when he would laugh or talk to a girl that wasn’t you.

You wanted to know how it felt to have all of his attention.

You still cling onto your hopes when it’s time for prom. Your friends actually had dates and you wanted to go for the last bit of experience.

Hearing the prom date over the intercom during morning announcements, an idea pops into your head.

Smoothly walking to where he was, he took a quick drink out of the water fountain.

He smiled a bit when he seen you, your heart leaped with hope and joy. You smile back and ask him how his day is going, you were going to try the smooth approach.

“It’s going okay. How’s yours?” he asks. You seeped into the conversation, “Eh, it’s alright.” He’s walking leisurely and you’re walking side by side with him.

“Are you going to prom?” he asks you. You almost felt like you were dreaming, you nod with enthusiasm.

“Are you?” you ask. You watch as he thinks for a bit.

“Yeah. Are you going with someone?” he asks you.

You shake your head.

“Are you?” you ask and start to smile. He nods a bit, “Yeah. I got asked.” he laughs a bit.

“Oh…” you say and your entire expression is crestfallen.

“We’re going as friends but, still. Hey, at least I will see you there.” he says and before you realized it, you were outside of his classroom.

“Yeah. See you there.” you say sadly and watch him walk in the classroom and greet a friend of his.

You had to walk the walk of shame to your own classroom.

At prom, you tried to have a good time. Your friends even abandoned their own dates for a moment to include you. Your eyes kept looking over the girl that won Embry’s yes.

She danced with him, she laughed with him, and she even complimented your dress when you got something to drink. You couldn’t even dislike her even if you wanted to.

Life after high school had been easy on you. Studying for a career path that you have been passionate about, made you have passion for life for the future.

Coming back home for the holidays, you were happy to see your old friends on Christmas break.

The day before Christmas Eve, you stopped at a store to buy some gift wrapping paper. That’s when you saw him. You didn’t get the same fluttery feelings you had and to be honest, he crossed your mind but not in a romantic way. You would laugh lightly to yourself how intense you felt about the hopeful teenage romance. You were glad that he had a kind nature.

He was the one that spoke to you first.

“You’re back.” he says with a smile. He was in front of you in line and he turned around.

“Yeah. How are you?” you say politely.

“I’m good. And you?”

“Great.” you say.

“How long are you here for?” he asks you.

“Just until after New Years.” you just say and plan to leave it at that.

“Cool. We get to see each other often until you leave, then.” he says.

You give him a tight lipped smile and nod a bit.

He noticed your reservedness and another cashier opened their register and says she can take the next person in line in her line.

“See ya.” you just say and walk to the new cashier.

Embry was going to say something before you were out of your sight but you moved too fast, making his words get caught in your throat.

On Christmas Eve, you all exchanged gifts, each of you having a secret Santa.

It was nice and warm and you all talked about the good old days of high school.

Your friends knew you weren’t Embry-crazy anymore, you barely brought him up.

On a spur of the moment, you all go to the favorite coffee shop that you all loved. You got the hot chocolate and it tasted better than you imagined it would.

“I so miss this.” you say as you chew on the hot and semi-melted marshmallows.

Hums of agreement follows as they drink their own drinks.

You hear a bell and you look up and see that it’s Embry. You didn’t know he enjoyed this place too. You shrug and continue to drink your drink and fall into the table’s conversation.

“Y/N. Crazy we run into each other again.” he says with a smile. You lick the top of your lip a bit as the speck of whipped cream was resting there and you nod.

“I know right.” you say and continue your sip. Silence was met for a moment before your friend says that they’re done and if you guys were joining them in going back to the car. You all agree and you rise up and put your coat back on.

As your friends are deep in their chatter, he comes close to you and says to you in a hushed tone, “You have any plans for tomorrow?”

“Um..” you think for a moment, you were going to stop past your family’s home, but other than that, you were going to go back to your friend’s to spend the remainder of the day with them.

“Just celebrating with them and my family but, it was nice seeing you, though. I’ll see you around.” you say and walk out of the door with your friends.

He didn’t know how he could have messed it up. You weren’t the awkward teenager that he would see around school. The conversation was different.

You even looked different. You’ve grown into the woman that looked comfortable in their skin.

“Guys we should see the Christmas lights in the city!” your friend says as you all walk to the car.

“In the cold? No way.” you say, your teeth chattering at the light snow that started to fall.

“Come on. We don’t have to stay long.” they plead. You agree. They’re excited.

Christmas morning, you seen your family. Exchanged gifts, ate a bit of the dinner that was cooked and went on your way.

Walking through the city, your hands was trying to loosen the mittens so you can stick your hands in them. It wasn’t snowing when you left out, but it was starting to fall more gradually.

Dropping the mitten, you sigh a bit and lean down to get it, but someone was faster than you. Looking up to thank the person, you seen that it’s Embry.

“You following me or something?” you ask but you were teasing him.

His face turned into a look of horror, “N-No. Not at all!” he says.

Laughing a bit at his panicked state, “I was kidding.” you just say and you take the mitten from him, “Oh, and thanks.” you say and you walk to catch up with your friends.

“Wait.” you hear him say. You slow down your pace, he walks beside you.

“Yeah?” you ask as the mittens were now on your hands and you were stuffing your hands in your coat pocket.

“You’re seeing the lights right?” he asks.

“Yeah. Are you?”

“Maybe.”

“Oh.” you just say and continue to walk.

“I wouldn’t mind seeing them with you.” he says.

“Oh. Cool.” you say, your face grimaced a bit from the cold wind that blew in your face.

He walked with you, you all saw the Christmas lights. You and your friends took pictures. You only commented back when he would comment about the sight.

Leaving, he touched your coat covered arm, “You’re leaving already?”

“Yeah. See ya.” you say with a polite smile and wave and go about your way.

Embry’s face was crestfallen, but you didn’t see it. Your back was facing him and you and your friends talked about the lights you all saw.

You offer to go to the liquor store to grab drinks for the upcoming New Year’s eve party.

You placed the heavy bottle in your basket and seen Embry come in. This time, with a friend of his. They nod to each other as you both go in different directions.

You go to wait in line.

You felt a tap. You turn around.

“Hey.” he says. You just nod in greeting. You turn back around.

“What kind of drinks did you get?” he asked.

You show him the labels of each bottle.

“You have plans for New Years?” he asks.

“Sorta. I’m going to a party.”

“Who’s party?”

“You don’t know them.” you say. It was true.

“That’s funny. I’m having a party.”

“Oh yeah? Well, have fun.” you say as you place the bottles on the checkout belt. You were up next and the person in front of you were already handing the cashier their money.

“You should come.” he says.

“And ditch my friends?”

“Bring your friends.”

“Mm. I’ll pass. But thanks anyway.” you say.

“Please?” he asks. You actually give it some thought. “Oh what the hell.” you thought.

You fully turn to face him.

“I don’t know your friends. I barely know you, I just know you from the small interactions we had in school.”

“Get to know me then.” he says.

“Embry’s party?” your friend asks again. You nod.

“Uh oh. Here we go.” they laugh as they tease you.

“It’s not like that. I’m just going to show my face and we can leave.” you say and finish straightening out your outfit.

“Sure.” they say with a smirk and you nudge them to get them to be quiet. They just laugh instead.

You enter his home, it was a full house. The music vibrated the floor and you cross your arms as you scope the scenery.

A friend of yours scope out a guy they can talk to. You groan at the fact that they leave you to make their move.

You hear someone call your name.

“Hey.” you say.

“You made it!” he says with a smile.

“Uh huh.” you say as you take a look around. If it was his place, it wasn’t bad. People dancing and having fun with each other.

“Wanna dance?” he asks.

“Uh..Nah.” you say politely and move around him. He’s following you.

“Why not?” he asks, not in a pushy way, but in genuine curiosity. You shrug.

“I can’t dance.”

“Everyone can dance.” he says.

“Not true.” you say.

“Want me to show you?” he asks.

“Nah.” you say and ask, “What do you have to drink?”

“Anything you want.” he says. You chuckle.

“Seriously.”

“I am serious.” he says.

You walk away, while chuckling and shaking your head a bit in a friendly manner.

You had a drink in your hand as your friend was wrapped around a guy, them two explaining something that they had in common. It was evident they’ve been drinking, the loud passionate talking made you zone out a bit.

“You wouldn’t be bored if you danced with me.” he says and stands next to you on the wall.

“One dance. That’s it. You’re not making a fool of me.” you say in humorous fashion.

“Never.” he says.

You didn’t think you could be totally wrong. This moment, was true evidence that you had gotten a whiplash of emotions.

Everything that you felt like had been away, came slowly swimming.

An old blush came on your cheeks as Embry’s hands eventually pulled you close and moved your body with his to the music.

You didn’t want the song to be over. But, you already knew better. Stepping back with a small smile, you say, “I’m going to find my friends.”

You walk away before he could speak out, the transition of the next song was being blasted.

They were dancing with people they had gotten to know. Sighing a bit, you tried to socialize, seeing who else you could buddy up with.

They all just wanted to drink or take a shot. You didn’t want to get shit faced.

“Who are you going to kiss on the countdown?” he asks you as he stood close to you. Clearly feeling comfortable with the close distance since you two have danced.

“A drink.”

“That’s a waste.”

“What’s a waste?” you question and you fully face him and he’s wearing a handsome smile. You didn’t even realize how hard your heart was thumping until the silence fell into the air as he stared at your lips with hooded eyes.

You shake your head a bit as you felt like you were in a daze.

Sweaty bodies moved past you and you were back to the ugly reality.

“Are you leaving tomorrow?” he asks with a hint of sadness.

You shake your head, “The day after tomorrow.” He nods and keep note in his head.

“I want to see you before you leave.” he says.

“Why?” you whisper.

“I feel like I missed out on so much.” he whispers back.

Before you could respond, some shouts out, “Oh my god! Turn down the music!” The music is staring to turn down and Embry grabs your hand before you could process it.

He pulls you as the countdown from 20 seconds started to ring out.

Embry turns and counts down, “10…”

You catch on finally on, “5…”

By 3, you both are smiling and yelling with the rest of the room and shout, “Happy New Years!”

Cheering emerged and everyone held each other’s faces as they were pressed into each other. Laughing a bit, you see your friends occupied and you felt your chin being moved over and you were watching Embry’s face that was now in your view.

Inches turned into centimeters and before you both knew it, you shared your lips with Embry. You let him taste yours because he let you taste his.

The burning of your cheeks didn’t cool down when you guided some of your drunk friends in the car. You gave him your number and he did call.

He asks to see you. You go. After telling you his address, you knock on the hard wooden front door.

He opens it and looks happy to see you.

Your hands held up the wrapped covered gift.

You look to him as you both sat on his sofa.

“Open it.” he says.

You tear open the paper, your fingers slightly shaking.

You gasp a bit as you slightly smile.

It was a nicely sized stuffed animal that held a heart. It was wrapped good to where you wouldn’t have guessed. You lean over and give him a hug. He gladly returns it.

“I’m sorry, if I would’ve known you gotten me something, I would’ve got you something too.” you say as you look at the stuffed animal in your lap with appreciation.

“It’s alright.” he says and puts one arm behind you on the edge on the couch, “I have my gift here already.”

You look at him in confusion.

“Can we kiss again?” he asks. You look away and down at the gift he had gave you.

You shake your head a bit as you think and say, “If you would’ve asked me like two years ago, I would’ve hounded you.” you admit.

“I didn’t truly see what was in front of me.” he says.

“What changed? Why now and not then?” you ask.

He shifts to face you more on the couch, “I didn’t know what I want then. I know what I want now and it’s you.”

You just look at him. There was no hint of jokes, no hint of regret and most of all, no hint of shame.

“I wanted to let you know before you leave again.” he says. You nod in understanding.

“I don’t know.” you say. You felt confused.

“I’m sorry.” he says.

“It’s fine.” you say while smiling, “Where’d you get this?”

He tells you. He also told you how you were trapped in his mind as he was getting it.

“I wish we spent Christmas together.” he admits.

“That would’ve been nice..I suppose.” you say and look to him.

You lean and press a kiss of his cheek, you linger your lips there for a bit before pulling back.

He does the same, you huff out a nervous chuckle. He’s still close, he does it smoothly, placing his lips to yours as you watch him. You slowly close your eyes as you relish the feeling.

That what you two did. You both caught up with each other. Letting your lips show how much you both missed each other.

Your hand accidentally slipped under his shirt and you sighed before pulling back.

A sensual snack sounded off and he slowly opened his eyes and blinked at you.

“Im sorry.” you whisper.

“Do it again.” he says lowly and leans forward again. You let him take a hold of your mouth again, occupying your tongue with his.

He helped placed your hands back to his chest, under his shirt. You jumped slightly, from shock, when his lips leave open mouth kisses on your neck.

You small breathy noise escape from your slightly parted lips as your eyes closed at the tingling feeling that was now traveling to your collarbone.

His hands graced the bare skin that came from your slightly risen shirt. He graced a quick swipe of his thumb across your cheek as he then slowly rises your shirt.

Shirtless, you still felt warm. You sat in his lap as he cups your breasts as your back was pressed to his chest.

Your hips was grinding on the bulge that sat stiffly in between your legs.

“I want you.” he whispers. A kiss is heard as you felt the wet kiss on your neck. His hand snakes in front of you and circled his fingers on the sensitive covered nub. You wish he would take your panties off but he instead had you crying out. Crying out at what his fingers were doing. They were feeling how wet you were from just his fingers.

His fingers moved a part of your pantries to the side and rubbed his bare skin with yours. You arched your back and lean against him, your hips moving to make sure you feel every inch of his veiny flesh. Your center was making his flesh glossy as he stuck his tip in you, just a little at a time.

You wince. You squirm to get yourself comfortable as he holds himself to enter you.

You both move into his bedroom.

You both had gotten to know each other’s bodies well. You clutch to his back as his hips movements are rocking you painfully slow. You roll your eyes in ecstasy as you whine for him. He grunts in response and also keeps telling you, “I want you.”

[damnorange]

Brat - Chapter 1: An Emergency

What if the bond tethering their hands after she absorbed the aether core didn’t dissolve as easily as Sylus had promised? ----

"This bond should be released soon, you said."

It was the third time she'd made a comment along those lines. Rather than asking, her tone now carried a condescending edge, tinged with mild boredom. She shifted her weight, the metal wall at her back gradually warming from her body heat—or maybe his. She moved slightly to the left, seeking a new, marginally more comfortable position within the limited range the glow-in-the-dark cuffs allowed. Two and a half hours had passed since they returned from that eventful night. After resonating with him—albeit briefly—their hands were still chained together, forcing them into an unwilling proximity.

At this point, Sylus himself was bored to death. In his mind, he couldn't understand why the link between them hadn't weakened, let alone broken. He’d never been in a situation like this before. Though he was confident he could sever the connection by force, he hesitated, not wanting to damage their future chances of resonance or risk hurting her. So he waited it out.

After nearly three hours, however, his patience was wearing thin. He lacked the energy to take offense at her mocking tone and even less to entertain her. Raising an eyebrow, he shot her what had to be the dirtiest side-eye humankind had ever seen, then sneered.

"Admit it, kitten, You'd miss me too much if we parted ways." Sylus lifted their bound hands, pulling her closer in the process. "Need I remind you this is your doing?"

She huffed, defeated once again in their battle of words. Tugging herself away—at least as much as the cuffs allowed—she grumbled under her breath. She resumed staring at the opposite window, veiled in a thick layer of dust and grime. It barely let in any light, even with the curtain wide open. Of course, under the perpetually dim skies of Zone N109, there wasn’t much difference between day and night, but this still felt extreme. Without the faint glow of a few dim lights, the place could easily be mistaken for an abandoned mansion, like something out of a Dracula movie. Fittingly, the man beside her kind of matched the vibe. 

"I get the whole dark-and-broody aesthetic, but there's a fine line between that and just... filth, you know?"

"..."

"Can’t you afford electricity? This place is so dark."

"..."

"You do know LED lamps exist, right? They’re bright and cheap."

"Kitten, don't test me." 

The low growl of his voice and the sharp click of his tongue silenced her barrage of questions. His crimson irises seemed to glow brighter in the dim room, piercing into her brown eyes. A chill ran down her spine, just like when they first met. Some primal instinct in her mind screamed for her to run far away, while another urged her to shrink into invisibility.

Her shoulders slumped, and she pulled her legs closer to her chest, mumbling, "...Sorry."

Sylus pressed his lips together, clearly holding back a biting retort. In the end, he simply closed his eyes, returning to his statue-like meditation pose—silent and still.

With no other distractions in the room, her gaze drifted back to him. The infamous Onychinus leader became her latest subject of study. His snowy hair reminded her of meadows blanketed in frost, his features sharp and well-defined, his lightly tan skin freckled faintly—so faintly that only someone who’d been as close to him as she was now would notice.

She couldn’t help but admire his appearance. Cocky and intimidating personality aside, Sylus was undeniably handsome—a striking contrast to her dreary surroundings.

"Enjoying the view, aren’t you, sweetie?"

She blinked, startled, pulled from her reverie by the velvety depths of his voice. Coughing to mask her flustered state, she averted her gaze elsewhere, only to sneak a glance at him from the corner of her eye. His eyes were still closed. 

Maybe he had a third eye somewhere. She muttered the thought aloud without meaning to.

"I don’t have a third eye, just a good sense," he replied smoothly.

"Well, isn’t that bird of yours technically your third eye?" she shot back.

"Mephisto has two eyes. So, 'technically’, in that case I have four."

"Don’t play word games with me—you know what I meant."

Their banter fizzled into silence again. After the night’s chaos, even the mighty lord of the underworld seemed to be feeling sluggish. With adrenaline fading and nothing to do, drowsiness began creeping in. She yawned for what felt like the tenth time in the last fifteen minutes. This wasn’t the base where she’d been captured. It was much smaller, emptier. Judging by its state, she assumed it was his residence, too small to be Onychinus’s base. If so, it was... sad.

"If this thing doesn’t come off in the next thirty minutes, you’re coming with me to Linkon." Frustration edged her voice. Normally, she wouldn’t dream of letting him anywhere near where she lived, but desperation was setting in. She wanted a warm shower and a soft bed. If she had to drag the big boss there herself, she’d deal with the consequences later.

Besides, it was Sylus. If he didn’t already know where she lived, he could find out in a heartbeat.

Sylus raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Not even going to woo me first before taking me to bed? How bold of you."

She clicked her tongue, irritated. "Look, I don’t want to be near you any longer than necessary, but I’m tired. And if I’m stuck in your home—which doesn’t even have a sofa—I might as well rest in mine."

He squinted, looking slightly offended by her statement. "This is not my home," he said, his nose crinkling in distaste. Wiping his hair back with his free hand, away from his face, he continued, his eyes locking with hers. "Are you not scared, kitten? Inviting me so easily?"

Hearing his reply, she nodded as though it made perfect sense. Of course—no matter how much this man gave off Dracula vibes, he still needed to sleep somewhere. A man with tastes as picky as his wouldn't live in an almost-ruin like this. Ignoring his teasing—for her own sanity—she replied, "... Maybe I am."

Her eyes met his crimson ones, unwavering. "But I know I can't hide from you. No one can, right? Not for long."

"And I promised I would help you." Her tone was serious, her words resolute. She meant it. Of course, she remained wary of Sylus and his intentions, but this was her way of trying to understand him—their connection and, ultimately, what he wanted.

Sylus, meanwhile, toyed idly with a gun, its barrel gleaming from hours of meticulous polishing during their time stuck together. His crimson eyes flicked down to the weapon as he spoke. "Glad to know you're a fast learner, sweetheart." There was something unspoken behind his words, a faint glimmer of regret buried beneath his otherwise cold demeanor.

Sensing the weight of the moment, she cleared her throat. "So, where is your place? Is it far from here?"

She suspected the reason they were stuck here was the chaos erupting after she'd absorbed the Aether core. While their connection made them vulnerable to attack, perhaps they could sneak out quickly—if it wasn’t too far to his apartment.

Of course, there was another reason for her impatience.

"No. But I can't drive a motorcycle with this binding," he said, raising their linked hands slightly as if to emphasize the point. A smirk spread across his face. "Now you even want to visit a man's place? I didn't know you were this bold."

"I'm desperate, okay?" she shot back, a flush creeping into her cheeks. Turning her face away, she tried in vain to hide it. It was mortifying, but she was on the verge of breaking down. If there was no solution in the next ten minutes, she'd die of embarrassment.

Now Sylus was curious. Something was definitely off. He scanned her from head to toe, trying to discern what she was hiding. "Are you hurt?" he asked, his deep voice calm but tinged with concern. He had been certain she was unscathed, but perhaps there was an injury he’d missed.

"... No," she mumbled, barely audible, her face now buried in her knees. She curled into herself, retreating to a shrimp-like position.

"Then what is it?" he pressed. "Tell me, kitten, or do I have to use force?" He was running out of patience, his free hand twitching as though ready to summon Mephisto at any moment.

"Oh god, this is so embarrassing," she muttered to herself, voice muffled against her knees. After a moment’s hesitation, she blurted out so quickly it was almost unintelligible, "...I have to pee."

"What?"

"I... have to pee," she whispered, barely louder.

"Kitten." His voice dropped, frustration lacing his tone. "Speak up."

Gritting her teeth, she finally yelled, "For the love of...--I have to pee!" Her face was crimson now, fully flushed. "So I need to get out of here—somewhere with a bathroom."

"Ah."

For a moment, Sylus was silent. Of all the scenarios he had imagined—injuries, ambushes, even betrayal—this was not one of them. He blinked, his crimson eyes betraying a flicker of disbelief. "That's it? You made it sound like life and death, sweetie."

She groaned, burying her face back in her knees. "Please don't. I already want the ground to swallow me whole."

"Well... that's certainly... pressing," he said after a pause, his tone betraying faint amusement.

He chuckled—a low, deep sound that sent her spiraling into further mortification. "Relax, It’s a natural thing. Even someone like me understands biology."

"Yeah, but you’re not the one stuck cuffed to someone else!" she snapped, glaring up at him through her embarrassment.

"True," he conceded with a shrug. "But at least you’re cuffed to me."

"Great, thanks for that. Still prefer not to though," she muttered, sarcasm dripping from her words.

Noticing her fidgeting, Sylus let out an exaggerated sigh and stood, pulling her up with him. "Alright, alright. Let’s get moving before you start having a fit."

Her face brightened slightly. "You mean—"

"Yes, kitten, I’ll help you find a bathroom," he said, exasperation in his tone but not without a hint of amusement. He tugged lightly on their bound, urging her to move. "But this means you’re going to owe me. Big time."

"Oh, come on!" she protested, scrambling to her feet. "You’re the one who started this whole mess in the first place!"

He smirked, clearly enjoying her frustration. "Details," he said lightly, gesturing toward the door. "Lead the way. Unless, of course, you’d prefer I carry you there?"

Her glare could have incinerated him on the spot. "Don’t you dare."

With a soft chuckle, he motioned for her to hurry up. She was already mortified enough for one night, but being involved to Sylus ensured it wasn’t going to get any easier anytime soon. --- Notes: This game has brought back my love for writing after years, so sorry for any grammar mistakes—English isn’t my first language. The story shows little snippets of their daily lives and might not stick to canon since I just started playing Sylus and haven’t unlocked most of his memories yet. If anything’s not canon, think of it as an alternate universe (AU). Also, the female main character is her own person, not a reader stand-in. Her personality comes from the conversations I picked in the game, mixed with my own imagination. Also posted in AO3

[ryuichirou]

A bit ago I asked if you had thoughts on Riddle being the only bottom on the island during the Stitch event, and at that point you hadn’t read it. Now that you have, any headcannons on how fun/torturous Riddle’s time was?

Anon!! Thank you asking again, I am very happy that you did because YES I want to talk about it!! Thank you so much for waiting until we watch it AND for waiting for me to actually reply this time lol It still took a while somehow. Thank you for staying for so long and bringing this ask back!

Riddle’s outfit in this event it absolutely ridiculous, his belly button attracts all of the attention, it’s not even fair. I had to compose myself a little bit…

But I hope you’ll enjoy it! All of them are spicy on some level, but the earlier ones turned out to be milder, I think.

Also ah yes I should probably mention that Stitch is also around for some of the hcs… would’ve been a shame to skip him, right?

When they were surfing for the first time, Azul and Riddle both struggled quite a bit, and at some point Azul grabbed the closest thing he had in front of him not to fall from his board, and that thing turned out to be Riddle’s butt. Riddle squealed, and both of them fell from their boards immediately… and Riddle’s poor butt was hurting after that. He didn’t expect Azul to have such strong of a grip; that was vicious!! The rest of the evening went nicely and Riddle had a lot of fun, but in the morning he found a red hand mark right between his cheeks, and felt extremely embarrassed about it, avoiding looking at Azul for as much as he could, but also pouting and making it very obvious that something happened between them.

Riddle got to sit on Jack’s wide shoulders for a couple of minutes while trying to grab a fruit from a tall tree. He didn’t expect to get picked up and put up there like this, but he actually enjoyed it more than he expected… He felt a bit hot and ticklish though because Jack’s neck is surprisingly hot + unsurprisingly fluffy with his long hair. And when Jack suddenly decided to go somewhere without putting Riddle back down, Riddle immediately squeezed his neck with his bare thighs. It was definitely due to Riddle’s horseriding habits… Then Jack suddenly grabbed his thighs to help him stay stable, and the sensation of his large hands squeezing him like that made Riddle feel hot down there. The tingles… if Jack’s hair weren’t so thick, he would’ve definitely felt something growing between Riddle’s legs.

Riddle actually really enjoyed Ace’s company! He didn’t cause much trouble, was pretty sweet with him, and they even danced together, and Ace hugged him a couple of times which Riddle didn’t even refuse and only giggled about. The thing is though, he felt like Ace was staring at him the entire time they were on the island. It’s like Ace was eating him alive or wanted something from him very desperately, but instead of going for it, was just “nibbing” at him throughout the day. It all came together when Ace splashed Riddle with water, laughed at his white shirt becoming translucent, playfully fought him, fell to the ground with him and then, as if the mood just switched, rubbed against his leg and kissed his chest through the wet clothes. (Un)fortunately, they got distracted by Stitch doing something loud before Riddle could even wrap his head around what was happening. He could still feel something wet and hot on his thigh after that though…

One time Riddle crawled into a hammock to chill for a couple of minutes, but Lilia was already there, and Riddle didn’t see him. He apologised and started crawling back out, but Lilia hugged him tightly and made him lie on top of him, saying that they could relax together. It was a bit weird, but Riddle didn’t want to argue with a senpai, and it was just for a couple of minutes anyway, so… somehow, after a couple of minutes Riddle was the one under Lilia while Lilia was playing with his butt and making out with him. He didn’t even take off his shorts, just put his hand under there and teased his hole with his fingers, while Riddle was gulping saliva and hyperventilating into the kiss. After Riddle came just from that, Lilia giggled, said something about the youth being very cute and left him like that.

Floyd... Oh Floyd. Riddle and Floyd had such a joyful ride during this event it honestly deserves its own post lol But for now! Their tension was so strong from the get-go that they actually almost had sex multiple times. Outside of the cave during the first day, then behind their newly built house , then behind a huge rock on the beach. On some level Floyd knew that Riddle wanted it very badly and teased him by blueballing him like that, but also flirting with him and hinting at sex all the time. So when they actually managed to fuck, Riddle was so horned up and loud that everyone heard them…even though they were hiding pretty deep into the forest. When they came back, everyone knew.

They always woke up in unexpected positions. One morning Riddle found himself buried under Jack who was sniffing his head and hugging him tightly, almost suffocating him. Another night Ace was hugging him from behind and rubbing against him a little. Azul was a very unexpected one: he almost tangled his own legs with Riddle’s, putting his head under Riddle’s shirt and sleeping like that, salivating on his stomach a little bit…

During one of the dinners Floyd and Ace made Riddle deepthroat a banana and he didn’t even realise what was going on at first. Ace joked about the housewarden’s mouth being so small that he always eats in tiny cute bites, and then Floyd joined him, and then both of them egged Riddle on to push a banana in his mouth as much as he can. Riddle was so pissed by that point that of course he wanted to prove them wrong… and everybody lost it. Floyd was laughing his ass off, Ace was nervously laughing quietly, clearly thinking about something bad. Jack was looking away all red, Lilia was smugly giggling to himself and Azul was facepalming (hiding his own blush) and quietly mumbling something about Riddle-san being incredibly gullible… and Stitch was making nasty comments in his own Stitch language.

Stitch actually makes a lot of nasty comments and dirty jokes about Riddle. Floyd and Lilia get them and say that Stitch is one foul creature (just like them), and Riddle doesn’t get it but still gets embarrassed for some reason. There is something in Stitch’s intonation when he says those things while looking at him. What are you three talking about again!

Stitch also straight-up humped Riddle a couple of times… one time was pretty subtle and on Riddle’s leg, another time was when Riddle was bending down to grab a pretty shell, and Stitch jumped right on top of him. It’s unclear whether it was a fully conscious action or just an instinct, and if Stitch was serious or was just messing with Riddle, but Riddle actually got both scared and weirdly hot at the same time. He managed to kick Stitch off, and Stitch immediately jumped into the nearest tree and disappeared, but… Riddle was sure he saw something bright pink sticking from his fur…

One of the fruits Lilia made them all eat turned out to be a very weird one that, it was like a very strong aphrodisiac. Strong enough to make everyone very sick at first, but after the first wave of fever calmed down and they were all sweaty and dizzy, they all got super horny. And none of them remember quite well what happened, but they did in fact have an orgy. Riddle remembers choking on something big, his belly being filled, something rubbing against his entire body, huge tongues, a lot of salty stuff, and that his nipples felt like someone was trying to bite them off. They all woke up naked, Riddle was cuddling against Jack’s chest with his legs hugging Floyd somehow, Azul’s glasses on his head, and a bunch of naked bodies around covered with flower petals. Why flower petals?! Anyways, even if their memory wasn’t completely wiped after this event, they still wouldn’t be able to remember what happened.  And just like at the end of the event, even though they don’t remember, there is something inside of them that craves for them to do it again…

[hades--baby]

It Will Come Back || Chapter One

Summary: Lieutenant Colonel Frost had retired from the military years ago, feigning that old age and twenty years worth of service had finally caught up to her. In reality, it was the loss of her entire task force that had urged her to bring her military career to an end. Retirement had been treating Frost quite well, but when it came to light that Vladimir Makarov was free from the gulag he was meant to spend the rest of his miserable days, she wondered if retirement was still the best option for her.

The man who had taken out her entire team was running free while she was stuck at home, twiddling her thumbs.

Thankfully, after meeting the estranged woman through a mutual friend, John Price made it his personal mission to make sure that Makarov was brought to justice and that Frost played a part in the process.

Chapter Content Warning: Canon Typical Violence, PTSD, Military Jargon, Reader uses she/her pronouns

Note: This was originally posted as an OC fic, but I decided that I wanted it to be a reader fic instead haha--hope you guys enjoy!

|| this work was also posted on my ao3 account: hades_baby ||

Word Count: 2279

The cozy cabin that Kate Laswell had just let herself into was damn near silent, save for the sound of running water that was coming from the bathroom just down the hall. She eyed the thin line of light and wisping steam that seeped from the gap beneath the door, suddenly regretting letting herself in with the key that she had been given long ago by her dear friend. 

She knew that it was probably a bad idea to drop in like this; completely unannounced and with a stranger tagging close behind.

But alas, Kate was feeling antsy and when no one had opened the door after her third round of incessant knocking, she decided to take matters into her own hands.

This was probably the first time that John Price had ever seen Laswell fiddle so nervously with her hands. The usually stoic yet kind Station Chief had always been steady and hardened from all the years of service and bullshit she had witnessed throughout her entire career, but stepping into whoever’s home they were currently in was enough to make her fidget with a sense of anxiety. Price hadn’t a proper clue of who they were meant to be meeting—Laswell never mentioned who they were, only that they could potentially serve to be an important part in hunting down Makarov. 

He trailed close behind the shorter woman of authority as they crept through the dim lit house together. The only thing he could properly hear was the water of a shower running somewhere nearby, a fire crackling in the living room to his left, and the rustling of the snowy forest that the cabin was set in. He wanted to question why they hadn’t just waited at the door for whoever was inside to greet them or why they were so secretly creeping throughout the cozy looking home. 

There were a lot of questions he wanted to ask, but he knew that he wouldn’t get an answer unless Kate believed that they were dignified a response.

They continued to sneak through the main hall that led from the front door to the rest of the house, only stopping when John’s heavy boot creaked against a part of the gorgeous hardwood flooring. Laswell glanced back at him and the look she gave him nearly forced an apology out of his mouth for making any sort of noise, but the words were caught in his throat as he felt the cool muzzle of a gun press against the back of his head. The chilled metal rested nicely at the base of his skull where his beanie didn’t manage to cover. He froze for a moment before ever so carefully glancing over his own broad shoulder to see who had successfully snuck up on him. 

A woman close to Kate’s height was standing there, hair dripping with water, and a dark green towel wrapped firmly around her figure. Droplets of water fell from the ends of her hair and onto the parts of her skin that the towel didn’t manage to hide away. Her piercing eyes stared into his own and he couldn’t help but feel absolutely entranced by her. 

There was something about her that fully enraptured his mind and soul. 

Or perhaps it was just the gun in his face that was causing such hyperfixation. 

The pistol aimed at his head was balanced steadily in her hands. She had backed away a singular step so the muzzle wasn’t pressed right up against his head anymore, making it more difficult for him to disarm her efficiently without the possibility of the weapon going off. 

Not that he thought that it would actually come down to that. 

At least, he hoped that it didn’t actually come down to that. 

“Frost,” Laswell greeted kindly. 

“Kate,” she greeted back, not daring to take her eyes off of Price. “The fuck are you doing in my house this late at night?”

“I had a proposition for you and wanted to see if you’d be interested. Thought it might entice you enough to rethink your retirement,” Kate said, putting on a smile in hopes of easing her friend. 

“Rethink retirement? Funny,” she said dryly. 

John felt that both of the women were acting far too casual for him to still have a gun aimed at his face. His head was still twisted around in an awkward way as he kept his gaze on her, flicking down to the gun every few moments. Frost hadn’t flinched a bit, nor had her hands faltered. 

She remained steady as fucking rock and that’s what troubled him. 

“And who’s this?” she finally asked, tipping the gun down a bit as a gesture to him. 

“Captain John Price. I’ve been working with him for a while now,” Kate introduced. “He’s a SAS operative with a task force under his command. Someone that I trust with my life.”

John nodded his head once in acknowledgement, unsure of whether he should say anything in fear that the woman might just shoot him for simply opening his mouth.  

“Wonderful to meet you, Captain,” she said, finally lowering her gun and straightening herself out of the stance she had hunkered down in. She clicked the safety on and Price felt like he could breathe again. “Well, feel free to make yourselves at home. Kettle should still be hot and there’s some tea stashed in the kitchen. I’m gonna go finish having a shower.”

And with that, she walked past the both of them and into the confines of the bathroom, closing the heavy wooden door shut. 

John finally relaxed, looking back at Laswell with furrowed brows. 

“That’s who we’re supposed to be meeting?” he asked in bewilderment. 

“Lieutenant Colonel Frost. One of the best in the game,” she said, nodding her head as she recalled old memories of her friend’s achievements in the field. “Or she was one of the best in the game. She retired a few years back.”

“Lieutenant Colonel?” he questioned, not quite believing in the words she had just spoken. The woman that had just shoved a gun in his face moments ago looked a little too young to even be a Captain, let alone a bloody Lieutenant Colonel. “Girl looks young enough to have just been promoted to Staff Sergeant.”

Laswell visibly winced. 

“I’m sure she’d appreciate you thinking that she still looks good for her age, but I wouldn’t let her hear you say all that. Might have that gun pointed at your face again sooner than you’d like,” she said as she made her way into the kitchen. 

Price followed. 

Laswell took out a few mugs from the cupboard and started making tea for the three of them. There was a sense of comfortability that she had moving about the house. He could tell that she’d been here before more than she was letting on. 

“You never told me why we needed her for the job,” he said, hoping to get some answers for the questions that had been swimming in his head for the entire drive to the cabin. 

“Let’s just say that she had a bad experience with Makarov in the past. I just thought I’d let her know that she might have the chance to bring him to justice after all these years,” she answered, shrugging her shoulders. “If anyone’s going to be motivated to bring him in, it’s her.”

“You also didn’t mention that she was retired.”

“I didn’t mention a lot of things about her, John,” she said with a sigh, rolling her eyes along with her words. 

And that was his sign that it was time for him to stop asking questions. 

But he couldn’t help but sneak one more in. 

“How old is she?” he asked. 

“Around my age,” she answered. 

The rank made sense now. 

The bathroom door opened and Frost walked into the kitchen soon after. She had proper clothes on this time around, hair still wet but no longer dripping. Laswell turned with a smile and handed her a cuppa before handing once to Price as well. 

“Thanks,” Frost muttered quietly as she took the mug and made her way into the living room. She found herself settling comfortably in her usual dark green armchair while John settled in the one set right across from her. Laswell took her usual place on the plush couch between them. 

The living room was charming in its own way. 

There were two matching armchairs that were placed on either side of the toasty brick fireplace that was already roaring with bright flames, a plush couch set right in front of it with a coffee table to match, and a few full wooden bookshelves that lined the walls from floor to ceiling. 

Price wouldn’t mind living there. 

It was an ideal home in his eyes. 

He supposed that he couldn’t blame her for retiring and settling down in a quaint cabin in the middle of nowhere.

“So,” Frost started, taking a sip of her steaming tea before continuing. “What do you want?”

“I’ve got a job proposition for you,” Kate started.

“Clearly,” she said, flashing her brows for a mere second. 

“I’m hunting someone.”

“You always are, Kate,” she quipped, taking yet another sip of tea. 

Price hadn’t even thought to touch his cuppa yet. He’d been so taken in by the woman sitting in front of him. She was seemingly so uninterested in whatever they had to say. Frost had one of the most interesting and powerful CIA agents sitting in front of her and she didn’t seem to care.

“It’s Makarov.”

Frost flicked her eyes away from her tea and up to Kate. She didn’t offer any sort of sarcastic quip this time around. She simply stared, wondering if Kate was telling the truth or just trying to put a stopper in her inattentive disposition. 

“Makarov?” she questioned. 

Kate nodded. 

The three of them sat in silence for a few moments. 

John watched her expression carefully—or lack thereof, should he say. There was barely a glint in her eyes that would be able to tell him what she was thinking. It wasn’t until she opened her mouth that he knew what was going on in her mind. 

“I appreciate the offer, but I’m not coming back. Even if it’s for that Russian piece of shit,” she said, shaking her head. “I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?” Kate probed playfully. 

“Pick your poison.”

“Well, if you change your mind, you know how to reach me,” Kate said, shrugging her shoulders as she stood. Frost rose to her feet as well. John was the last to stand, a bit confused and a little nonplussed. 

“This could have been a phone call,” she said. 

“Don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you don’t actually answer your phone when anyone calls,” Kate said, quirking her head to the side with a smile. “Last I checked, your landline is disconnected too.”

“Fair point.” The women embraced each other in a warm hug. “Tell the missus I said hello.”

“I will,” Kate said as she pulled away. “She misses you.”

Frost then turned to John. 

“Wonderful meeting you, Captain Price. Hope you two have a safe trip back home, wherever that is,” she said, flashing a quick smile out of courtesy. 

John felt as if he had just gotten complete whiplash from how quick the entire interaction was. He had just sat down, yet they were already leaving. Kate simply rolled over the moment Frost said no and that was supposed to be it? 

He held his hand out to her. 

“Likewise, Lieutenant Colonel,” he said, nodding his head. 

Frost hated when people called her that, especially now that she was retired. Nevertheless, she took his hand in hers and gave it a firm squeeze. 

And with that, the two of them left. 

“What the hell was that?” he asked the second the front door shut behind them. 

“That was how a typical interaction with Frost usually goes now that she’s reached her older years of not giving a shit about what people think,” she said as she shoved her hands into the pockets of her coat in an attempt to stay warm in the snowy weather. 

Older years. 

Price still thought she looked younger than him. 

“She used to be a spitfire when she was younger, but a situation with Makarov extinguished that side of her,” she continued. 

“Still kind of seems like a spitfire from what I saw,” he muttered as he snuggly pulled his beanie over the tops of his ears. “The situation with Makarov… Is that why she’s all business then?”

“Partially.”

“What happened between them?”

Kate was quiet for a few long moments, wondering if she should say anything. She knew that if she didn't say anything now, John would just go looking for answers himself. 

She sighed. 

“Frost had a task force just a little bigger than yours. Some bad intel led to a mission going south and Makarov and his men ended up taking out her entire team. She’s the only one that made it out that day. Walked away from that one with a lot of nasty scars,” Laswell explained, trying to keep it short in an attempt to spare him the gruesome details. 

“She was the only survivor?”  

She hummed in confirmation. 

Mental and physical scars then, he figured. 

They walked through the forest in silence after that, slowly trekking back to the end of the driveway where their truck was parked. 

“The gun to the face was a nice touch,” he muttered gruffly. 

Kate smiled and looked over at him. 

“Thought you’d think so.”

[darkmothsy]

Makeup for the day

[shannonsketches]

Why is the anime so weird, it's not even the same series dude?? It's like,

Anime:

GOKU: I have a great idea to bring peace to the universe, and my leadership and compassion alone will unite us all. I have No Flaws and am A True Relatable Everyman :)

VEGETA: NO! I AM THE BEST AND I WILL CAUSE PROBLEMS UNTIL I AM RECOGNIZED AS SUCH!!!!

Manga:

GOKU: Vegeta what's cornmeal made of? I know it's what the corn eats, but what's it made of? VEGETA: Hey Kakarot let's play the quiet game until one of us dies.