#is this... the power of love I smell? 👀

[solmints-messyocdiary]

Acceptance

Odile & Odile

Inspired by Harry Clarke's Donkeyskin illustration.

[tadpole-apocalypse]

Just some Astarion vampire headcanons and thoughts I’ve brainstormed with my partner, since dnd vampirism is a little lean on actual lore and rules.

Feeding gives him a “blush of life” effect that I’m just stealing shamelessly from vampire the requiem rules. No heartbeat, but he’ll be warmer, flushed and less corpse-like than normal. Can pass for a living person.

Needs to feed to get erections. No blood, no boner.

Being starved of blood starts shutting down his senses. Taste is always fucked up now because of the vampirism, but without blood his senses of touch, smell, as well as vision and hearing, are all heavily impacted. This was deliberate by Cazador to keep him weakened.

When he says most of his lovers/victims couldn’t even provide him temporary bliss, it’s because (unknown to him) his sense of touch is extremely dulled while starved. Rat blood makes him functional but it barely allows him to feel any stimulation.

The blood of thinking creatures is akin to ambrosia. It’s not just the temporary satiation of his unending hunger, but being able to feel things again. The wind on his skin, the damp chill of a rainy night, the heat from the grymforge…even being able to sweat again. It’s all brand new to him.

His senses on thinking creature’s blood are not only restored but sharpened. More so after the tadpole is removed and his full spawn power is unlocked again.

Can smell your blood while it’s still in your veins; moving thru your body. Can sense an emotional (or sexual 🥴) response this way. His heightened hearing can easily tell when your heart rate quickens.

That’s all I got! I’d love to hear more, if anyone has their own vampirism headcanons to share 👀

[novaursa]

Love love LOVE reading your most recent requests! Especially the cregan ones

If you’re still taking requests, could I get one from cregan pov where velaryon/targ reader must wed cregan to honor the pact made by Jace. I’d Iove to get cregans first impressions of seeing her, almost in awe because it’s his first time seeing a targ/velaryon with old Valyrian features and how he feels about the betrothal. Bonus points if you add her dragon too 👀💖

Valyrian Bride

Requests are closed!

- Summary: When your older brother, Jacaerys, promised you to Cregan to be his bride, the Lord Stark did not expect what he got - a trueborn dragon.

- Paring: velaryon!reader/Cregan Stark

- Note: I hope this is what you had in mind. 🙂

- Rating: Mild 13+

- Next part: 2

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @daeryna @melsunshine @21-princess

Cregan Stark stood tall upon the frost-crusted battlements of Winterfell, his grey eyes fixed on the southern horizon. The wind howled around him, cold and biting, but he barely noticed. The men beside him, his bannermen and closest retainers, stood in hushed anticipation. They were a hardy lot, men of the North, but today there was a tension in the air that not even their steadfast presence could dispel. The daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen, the Dragon Princess promised to him, was on her way. And she was bringing her dragon.

Cregan was a man of duty, honor-bound by his word. When Jacaerys Velaryon had come to the North, securing his father’s oath to Rhaenyra, Cregan had listened to the young prince’s proposal with a calculating mind. He had known what the South was asking—his allegiance in a civil war that would tear the Seven Kingdoms apart. The North had no taste for southern squabbles, but for an alliance that could secure his people’s future, Cregan had agreed. A marriage bond, a union with the blood of kings and dragons.

But he hadn’t expected this.

The sky darkened. A shadow passed over the pale light of the day, and a roar echoed across the windswept land. His heart quickened. The unmistakable sound of wings filled the air, as if the heavens themselves were being torn apart. Men murmured in awe, some with fear. Cregan’s grip on the pommel of his sword tightened as he peered into the sky. And then, she appeared.

The dragon came first—Vaetrix, her crimson scales gleaming like molten fire against the pale snow. Larger than anything Cregan had seen before, the great beast descended from the clouds with a grace that defied her monstrous size. Her wings flared, casting a shadow over the courtyard, and the air was filled with the smell of sulfur and smoke.

But it wasn’t the dragon that took Cregan’s breath away.

Atop Vaetrix, astride the monstrous creature as if born to it, was the princess. Her silver-gold hair streamed behind her like a banner, long and flowing, catching the sunlight as she descended. Her features were sharp, unmistakably Valyrian—the high cheekbones, the proud set of her jaw, the violet eyes that seemed to pierce through everything they beheld. She was a vision of Old Valyria, like the stories his father had told him as a boy. She bore little resemblance to her half-brothers, with their softer features. No, this was the blood of the dragon in full force.

His bannermen whispered around him.

"She looks like a goddess," one muttered, his voice thick with awe.

"Old Valyria reborn," another added, his voice trembling.

Cregan said nothing. He could only stare, his heart thudding heavily in his chest. He had expected a girl, a lady to wed and secure an alliance, but this… this was something else entirely. There was power in her, in the way she moved, in the way she carried herself atop that dragon. She was not just a girl of noble birth—she was a force of nature, a storm in human form.

Vaetrix landed with a deafening thud, snow and dirt kicking up around her as she folded her massive wings. The ground trembled beneath her weight, but Cregan stood firm. He watched as the princess dismounted with a fluid grace, her hand brushing along Vaetrix's scaled neck before she strode forward. Her boots crunched in the snow, the chill of the North seemingly unfelt by her as if the dragon's fire warmed her from within.

When her eyes met his, Cregan felt a jolt run through him. Those violet eyes… they were ancient, wise beyond her years, and yet held a fire that could burn a man alive if he dared to challenge her. His mouth felt dry, his usual steady words faltering in his throat.

She approached, and as she drew nearer, Cregan noticed more—her height, the proud way she held her head, the confidence in her steps. She did not walk like someone being delivered to a husband. No, she walked like a queen in her own right, a woman who expected the world to bend to her will.

When she stopped before him, she inclined her head ever so slightly, a gesture of acknowledgment rather than submission. “Lord Stark,” she said, her voice smooth and strong, carrying the faintest hint of the Valyrian accent that lingered in her family’s tongue. “I have come as promised.”

Cregan blinked, forcing himself to regain his composure. “Princess,” he replied, his voice rougher than usual, betraying the whirlwind of thoughts racing through his mind. “Winterfell welcomes you.”

Her lips curled into the faintest of smiles, though it was hard to tell whether it was one of amusement or mere politeness. “I am honored to be here, to fulfill the promise made between my house and yours.”

He nodded, his gaze locked on hers. “I did not expect—” His words caught in his throat for a moment, and he shook his head, cursing himself for his loss of composure. “I did not expect such… splendor.”

The smile deepened, and there was a flicker of something in her eyes—perhaps amusement, or perhaps something more dangerous. “I am not what you expected then, my lord?”

Cregan met her gaze evenly. “No, princess. You are far more.”

Behind them, Vaetrix rumbled, a deep sound that reverberated through the stone walls of Winterfell. His men shifted nervously, glancing at the beast with wide eyes, but Cregan paid them no mind. His focus was entirely on her.

The princess tilted her head, studying him with those sharp, knowing eyes. “I have heard much of the North, of its strength, its honor,” she said softly, her voice carrying on the wind. “It is a land of fierce men and harsher winters. I hope that I will find my place here, as your wife.”

There was something in the way she said it, a subtle challenge, as if she were testing him, seeing if he was the man she had been promised. And for the first time, Cregan understood that this marriage was not just a bond of convenience. She was not some southern lady to be tamed or coddled. She was a dragon, and if he were to claim her, he would have to prove himself worthy.

“You will,” he said, his voice steady now, conviction settling in his chest. “You will find your place here, with me.”

Her eyes gleamed with something close to approval, and she nodded once, a gesture as regal as any queen’s. Then, without another word, she turned her gaze back to Vaetrix, who stirred at her silent command, lifting her massive head.

Cregan watched her walk away, feeling a mixture of awe and excitement. The North had never seen a woman like this, and he knew, in that moment, that his life—Winterfell itself—was about to change forever.

[bad-and-drawn-that-way]

ooh! what about vox hypnotising the reader to sign a soul contract with him? 👀

love your work :D

This is gonna be angsty, but not in the way you'd normally expect >:3

More Than Anything [Vox x Reader]

"Ẇ̸̛̞̑h̸͈̰͕͊͝y̴̪͍̠̽ won't you let me do this for you?!"

Vox glitched out as you turned away from him. The two of you had been arguing for at least an hour and his nerves had frayed thin a good while ago.

The two of you had only been dating for a couple of months when some sneaky jackass paparazzi demon snagged a picture of you two h*lding hands while on a date. The image had spread like wildfire and everyone was curious to dig up as much information on you as possible. Rumors about the legitimacy of the photo, Valentino and Vox's neverending situationship, arguments about your character, you name it. It was all anyone could talk about.

At first, you both legitimately believed things would smooth over and the public would move on to the next celebrity scandal within a short amount of time. Reality only partially heeded your predictions.

The occasional talk show would hang on to the topic and some people had ship wars about it on sinblr, but for the most part, hell had moved on. Vox's enemies, however, had not.

It was a day just like any other when it happened. You had been on your way back to your apartment after visiting Vox at his office. He'd been having a rough day and you brought him food for an impromptu lunch date to lift his spirits. You had just turned the corner to the street you lived on, the looming tower of the Vee's still watching over you from afar. Hands grabbed you from an alleyway and you didn't even have a chance to gasp, let alone scream as you struggled against the sickly-sweet-smelling cloth pressed against your face.

You kicked and screamed, but felt your body growing heavy fast. You knew how to protect yourself to an extent, but you weren't a powerful sinner, nor trained for something like this. Your vision blurred and the last thing you saw were bright cyan flashes and blood splattered across the brick walls as you slipped into darkness.

When you woke up wearing your favorite oversized hoodie in the large bed of your boyfriend. You were confused as fuck until the memory slammed back into you. You call out for Vox and hear something crash nearby and the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps before he yanks open the doors to his room with a frazzled look.

At first, he'd been all over you. He'd been the one to clean the blood off of your unconscious body after he slaughtered the group of thugs in a white-hot rage. You hadn't known it, but Vox had been secretly watching you on his monitors to make sure you got home safely. He'd started doing it long before the two of you had started dating and the potential of what could have happened if he hadn't been stalking you out of the goodness of his heart chilled him to his core.

"I could've lost you," he grits out as his shaking claws dig into the sheets beneath him. You cupped his face and tried to reassure him, but he only dug his claws in deeper, shredding the fabric with fear and stress. He lets out a shaky sigh before his hand lifts to cup your own. His expression shifts as he looks up at you. "But never again."

"What do you mean?" you ask him softly as you search his eyes for the meaning behind the look he gave you.

He takes both your hands in his own, placing them on your lap. "Make a deal with me. Sign a contract. If I have control over your soul, then I'll always know where you are," he said seriously. "I'll be able to keep you safe."

You shake your head, leaning up to kiss his screen. "No, baby we've talked about this before. I know I'm not the strongest sinner, but I don't want anyone to own my soul but me. I'll get stronger and one day you won't need to worry anymore. Just give me time."

"We don't have time," Vox snapped. The vision of you passed out in the alleyway, covered in the thug's blood was ingrained in the back of his mind. It was at this moment he cursed his active imagination. All he could think of was the horrible scenarios you could be in if he didn't take action.

At first, the two of you were able to talk sweetly enough while you tried to change the other's mind. But as you kept going in circles, you both got more frustrated and it eventually blew up into the fight you were having now.

"Just ļ̷̲͊ę̸̇ț̷̭̅ ̸̖̝̠̔̋͆m̵̧̈́͋é̷̈́͜͠ͅ do this for you!" Vox screamed as he yanked you to turn and face him. His expression was distraught, his face short-circuiting from the anger and fear.

His expression crumbled as he let his head drop. "Please..."

Vox's claws twitch against your shoulders, "I'm sorry..." He mutters softly under his breath.

You look down at him and open your mouth to say something, only to gasp as red and blue fill your vision. Vox shakes as he watches your face relax, your mouth hanging open, and the reflection of his pained expression and black hypnotic spirals in your half-lidded eyes.

"But I can't lose you," he said as he trembled. "You're the only good thing I've had in hell and I can't replace you."

The room sparked with electricity and the entire tower powered down as he made you sign the deal. Your soul for his endless devotion and protection. Even if one day you discovered what he did. Even if you hated him for it. He'd be yours until the end of time.

You blink slowly, shaking your head and feeling a little fuzzy as you look down at Vox. His head was still lowered and you remembered he had just apologized to you and said he'd believe in you to get stronger. You smile softly at him and lift under the edge of his screen to make him look at you.

"Thank you for understanding," you say as you gently kiss him. "I promise, you'll have nothing to worry about. I'll get stronger and we'll be okay."

Vox sighed, looking at you with a tired, loving smile as he kissed you back. "Yeah... Everything will be just fine."

[hanafubukki]

i know i have already been in your inbox today dear Hana, but based on your recent reblogs….i must ask if you have any thoughts on how the Diasomnia men might enjoy predator play dynamics? 👀💕 hehe

You’re always welcome to my inbox Dear Gray 🫂💞

Absjsjshs I’m giggling in bed while writing these 🥰💞

For the Diasomnia men:

Lilia Vanrouge: The amount of times I thought of this dynamic with him will astound you. For Lilia, it’s the thrill of the chase. The hunt. It’s gets his blood pumping. His demeanor changes. He goes from our preppy peepaw to the General. He’s shadow incarnate, always one step behind you. He’s playing with you, makes you think you got away. But if you actually manage to trick him? Put up a fight? Oh, how surprised he will be. His sweet prize. How he wants to ruin you. I can see blood red eyes in a dark night sky. Color saturated by the bright moon up ahead. Nails sharpened, eyes slits, and fangs sharp; truly the predator. He will catch you and will make you beg. The taste of your fear on his tongue. Just thinking of his voice and the animalistic sounds he’d make as he takes you right where he caught you 🥰

Malleus Draconia: Malleus I think would love the chase as well. He usually has to keep his dragonic nature in check. For him, his bestial nature comes out. The tails, wings, scales, elongated fangs, his voice spoke with a hint of rumble. Depending if he’s in mating season or not, the chase can be long or short given his patience or lack of. I think Malleus would want to play with his prey more than chase. Make you beg, bring you to the brink and then deny you, dress you in his pretty jewels, etc. His precious Little One. Keep you to himself as he lets his baser instincts take you. You will smell like him by the time the night is over.

Sebek Zigvolt: Right away for Sebek, I see him more into the tussle aspect. He wants to show his strength off. He wants to show his abilities. He can protect and he can fight. There’s also power play added to this. He’s stronger than you. He can beat you. Submit to him. You’re a weak prey and he can easily break you, but he won’t. So imagine his surprise when you don’t give in so easily? When it takes more effort. He’s having fun. The end result increasing his gratification when he finally has you by your pretty throat.

Silver Vanrouge: For Silver, I also think it’s the fight part of the dynamic. Not the same way as Sebek where power play comes in, but more of the calculative aspect. There’s the chase he enjoys but it’s more the resistance he likes. Having a tussle and he does his very best not to hurt you but to subdue you. The gentle hand that calms his startled and frightened prey. He loves having you relax into him. He won’t hurt you. His dove. He’ll calm and soothe you before having your submission, but at this point you can’t help but submit to his ways. He makes it so easy to lure you into that blissful state before he takes you.

Thank you for asking Gray 💞 just thinking about this has me in a daydreaming 🥰🌺

[jetii]

i loveeeeeee ur writing. its like a masterpiece. mwah. i was wondering if you could do an angsty fic with the prompt "I loved you!" with any clone boy you want (maybe crosshair 👀) I was listening to Cardigan by taylor swift and it lowkey set the mood.

sorry if the request is very vague cause i never watched bad batch yet im a huge simp 🥲 so do whatever you want.

I know you got like a tonnnn on your plate and i lowkey feel bad requesting but you write really good so take ur time to take care of yourself.

hiiiii anon. if you are who i think you are, then you'll have already been watching TBB by now, but if you're not, what are you doing!! /affectionate

after listening to the song (i have a sister who is a swiftie but alas i am not) and thinking harder about your prompt, i was inspired to write this for Echo, so i hope that's okay!

The Way Back

Pairing: Echo x fem!Reader

Words: 9,621

Tags/Warnings: angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, established relationship, dramatic reunion, reader is a lawyer, Tech is a good brother, Echo needs a hug, allusion to panic attacks/alcoholism/depression

Summary: Echo always knew you were it for him, but the idea of seeing you again after so much has changed is more than he can take. Until one day he finds himself outside of your apartment, and the choice is made for him.

Previous Work | Next Work | Masterlist

Echo doesn’t leave the ship when it docks on Coruscant.

His eyes are locked on the city-planet, lit up like a giant firefly, watching the endless stream of ships coming in and out. Their trails of light make the whole thing seem dreamlike, surreal. Even that feels like too much, reminds him too much of the view from your apartment, and he tries to close his eyes, but his eyelids are made of glass.

The first time he saw Coruscant, there had been a moment of... what, awe? Terror? Something. Something big, anyway. He didn't understand then that you can have a feeling be a lot of things. He'd looked down on the galaxy's center of power and felt something bigger than he could possibly contain. Now, sitting alone on the Marauder with only the whirr of the vents for company, he thinks maybe the feeling was dread.

The first time they came back here after Echo joined the Batch, the others didn’t notice his unease. Or at least they didn't mention it. It was an adjustment period for everyone, Echo most of all, and his brothers gave him space to do things on his own terms, even when it meant he did nothing at all.

This time, it's different. He can tell they've noticed how he's been acting, and they're not just leaving him alone anymore. He can tell, because they're giving him looks. The kind of looks that ask questions he doesn't have answers for. They make excuses to stick close by, like they're afraid he might take off or that he's going to break down and have another panic attack. It makes him want to hide even more.

He's not going to, though. It's not so bad. Coruscant has always been a source of good memories for Echo, despite what happened. The sights, the sounds, the tastes — they're all still the same. He'd spent a long time on Coruscant before the Citadel happened, and he'd gotten used to it, the way the air smells, the feel of the rain against his skin. He had a whole life here. He was happy.

It's not so bad. He just... doesn't feel like going out, is all.

He knows he’s being stupid. He knows that he should be out there, enjoying what little downtime they’re afforded. Instead, he's on the ship, trying not to stare out the windows, trying to pretend that he isn't bothered by the thought of leaving, of the possibility of running into you again, however small that may be.

The worst part is that he's not sure why.

It's not that he doesn't want to see you. On the contrary, he does. More than anything. He hasn't stopped thinking about you, wondering if you're okay, if you’re happy, if you've thought of him. He's kept his ears open, and has managed to overhear a few stories here and there about you. The most recent had been about you winning a case for a group of Houk refugees who had been seeking asylum in the city, a big deal for a young lawyer to handle.

It had made him smile, a real, genuine smile, the kind he rarely got to have.

But there's something about seeing you again, about you seeing him that makes him hesitate, makes his stomach turn over and his throat tighten. Maybe it's because he doesn't want to know for certain, doesn't want to see that you're happy, that you've moved on, that you're doing well without him.

Maybe it's because he doesn't trust himself. He's different now, he knows that. He's different, and so are you. He doesn't know if he can face you, doesn't know if he'll be able to handle whatever is waiting for him. 

When he woke up in Rex’s arms and realized the galaxy had kept moving without him, he hadn’t thought much of it, solely focused on survival, on the fact that he was alive at all. He hadn't cared about what he'd missed, who he'd left behind. He hadn't known how much time had passed, and the thought that he was a dead man hadn't even crossed his mind. He hadn't thought about you, hadn't given himself the time or space to consider the consequences. You'd been the furthest thing from his mind. He'd had to keep fighting, to keep living. But once he had the time to think about it, to regret, well, it was...

It's different.

There's no other word for it. Everything is different.

Echo has had time, too much time, to think about you, to regret losing you. It's kept him up late into the night cycle, lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, unable to sleep, thoughts running a mile a minute.

You'd been a good person, a better one than he could ever hope to be, and he had loved you, and then he had died.

Or, he had thought he'd died. Turns out he hadn't. That had been the only mercy.

You'd been the first and only person in his entire life to see him as something other than a soldier, and he'd loved you for it. You'd seen him, really seen him, and you hadn't run. He had been terrified by that, but it had also been the best feeling in the world. And he had taken advantage of it. He had let you in, he had let himself fall in love, and then he had died.

It's different, now. He's different. The galaxy's moved on, and he's a ghost, and he's scared. He doesn't know how to face you, doesn't know if he can. So when they’d made it out of Skako Minor and Rex had asked if he wanted to comm you, he’d said no. And he's been saying no every time since.

A small voice inside his head, one that sounds a lot like Fives, tells him that's bullshit.

His brother would have called him out on his cowardice, and Echo thinks that's a fair assessment. But even though he misses you and wants nothing more than to hear your voice, it's better this way. It's better if you don't see him like this, if you never find out the truth. The thought of you seeing him, of you seeing what's left of the man you knew, is too much. He can't do that to you.

It's better if you never see him again. It's better if you have closure, if you've moved on and don't think about him anymore.

You deserve more. You deserve someone who hasn't lost as much as he has, someone who you won't have to worry about, someone who will be there for you.

Someone who can give you the life you want.

Echo knows he can't do that. And maybe if he says that enough times, he'll finally believe it.

“Why are you still here?”

The sound of Tech’s voice snaps him out of his thoughts. He turns and finds his brother watching him from the doorway, an expression of vague curiosity on his face, a soldering iron twirling absently in his hand.

Echo shrugs.

Tech gives a short, impatient huff.

"That is not an answer," he says, crossing his arms and looking pointedly at Echo.

"I was just..." He trails off. Just what? Just looking out the window and moping? He sighs. "Nevermind."

Tech steps into the cockpit, looking unconvinced. Echo can tell he has a question on the tip of his tongue, can see him considering his options. Tech is not the most tactful person in the galaxy, and Echo isn't really in the mood to hear his thoughts, not when they're bound to be blunt. But instead of asking, his brother simply takes his seat beside him and begins tinkering with the dashboard, checking the systems.

The two of them are quiet for a moment, the only sound the clinking of the tools. Then Tech pauses and looks at Echo. 

Echo fidgets under his brother's gaze. "What?"

Tech doesn't respond right away, taking a second to look Echo over. His eyes flicker around the cockpit, as if the gauges and switchboards will give him some kind of clue, before coming back to his brother.

"There is nothing wrong with the ship," he says.

"Okay," Echo says, confused. "So?"

"So," Tech continues, "there is no reason for you to be here. We are scheduled to remain docked until 600 hours, and you have the day off. You could be anywhere."

Echo rolls his eyes, a prickle of annoyance flaring in his chest. "Yeah, well, I'm here, aren't I?"

"Yes, you are," Tech agrees. There's a moment where he considers something, and then he speaks again, "If I may offer a suggestion?"

"Go for it," Echo grumbles, not bothering to look at him.

"Go for a walk."

"A walk?"

"Yes. Physical activity is proven to improve mood and mental health. And you could do with the fresh air."

Echo frowns. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," Tech says, not even pausing in his work, "that you've been spending an inordinate amount of time locked away in here."

"I'm not locked away," Echo protests.

"No, I suppose not. But you have not been yourself since we arrived."

Echo doesn't have an answer for that.

"Go for a walk," Tech repeats, and this time he does stop and turn to Echo. He leans back in his chair and removes his goggles, letting them rest on his forehead, and the intensity in his gaze makes Echo squirm a bit.

"Where?"

Tech gestures towards the open space in front of them, the sprawling metropolis. "There are a number of options available, I'm sure. There are parks, shopping districts, museums, restaurants..." He ticks the ideas off on his fingers one by one, and then points back to Echo. "Perhaps you should find out for yourself."

Echo snorts. "Thanks, but no thanks."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want to," he says, the words coming out more defensively than he intended. "I'd rather just stay here."

"Yes, I can see that," Tech says dryly, and Echo gets the distinct impression that his brother is making fun of him.

He scowls.

Tech is undeterred. "But I don't think that is what you actually want to do."

Echo's mouth opens to argue, but then closes it just as quickly. He's not sure what to say, not sure if he wants to say anything. Tech isn't wrong. He doesn't really want to stay on the ship, not truly. The idea of getting out and going somewhere is tempting, and if he's being honest with himself, the last thing he wants to do is sit here, stewing in his thoughts alone. Or worse, with Tech.

And he does need to stretch his legs.

He looks out the window again, taking in the sight of the planet before him. He's not sure what's going to happen once they get the signal for the next job, if they'll ever be back. He might never have this opportunity again.

He takes a breath.

"Fine," he says, throwing his hands up in the air. "You win."

Tech's lips twitch, a barely contained smile. "As I usually do."

Echo shakes his head, a grin playing on his lips. He starts to make his way towards the door, and stops beside his brother.

"Thanks," he says, placing a hand on Tech's shoulder.

"You are welcome," Tech nods. “Try to be back by 0600 hours. If you are late, we will leave without you.

Echo snorts. "I wouldn't expect anything less."

He leaves Tech there and heads to the ramp. His steps slow as he reaches the bottom, but he forces himself forward, out into the bright sunlight and fresh air.

Echo spends the next few hours wandering around Coruscant, letting his feet guide him.

He goes wherever the crowds take him, stopping at whatever catches his interest. It's nice, being able to let his mind go blank and not have to worry about where he's going. He doesn't have to think about anything, doesn't have to consider the consequences, or the risks.

He just exists.

And it feels good.

When he eventually decides to turn back, he's a bit surprised at how far he's come. He hadn't intended to venture so deep into the city, had just wanted a walk to clear his head. But the area he's found himself in is one he recognizes.

Your apartment is nearby.

Echo can feel his pulse start to quicken, his palm begins to sweat, and he stops in the middle of the walkway.

The sun has begun to set, and the crowds are thinning. You’ll be on your way home from work soon, if you weren’t already. His brain helpfully supplies the route you would take, and his eyes flit up towards the skyline. He can't see your building, but he knows it's there, not far away.

The knowledge sits heavy in his chest.

No, he tells himself, shaking his head. I shouldn't.

He has no way of knowing if you're even home. For all he knows, you could be busy, out with friends or maybe on a date.

Don't, his mind warns him. She's moved on. You shouldn't.

He hasn't been to your apartment since the morning he left. The memory is a sharp one, a jagged knife cutting through the fog of his past. He remembers the way your bed had felt, the warmth of your body, the sound of your breathing as you slept tucked against him.

It had been so peaceful.

It had been so easy to leave.

His mind starts to replay those moments, the goodbye you had given him, and it's like a punch to the gut. He knows how much you care about him, knows that if you were to see him again, that wouldn't have changed. You wouldn't turn him away.

The night before, you talked for hours. Your conversation had been punctuated with kisses and caresses, laughter and confessions. You told him how much you wanted him to stay, how much you wished he didn't have to leave, how much you wished things could be different. You talked about what the future might hold for the two of you, and he remembers how that felt, how it made him believe, even for just a moment, that things would work out.

They didn't, of course.

But Echo is still here, and so are you, and he can't help but think that maybe, just maybe, the galaxy might be giving him a second chance.

He takes a deep breath.

There's no harm in taking a detour, he thinks.

He walks, following the familiar path, trying not to think too hard about what he's doing.

It doesn't take him long to reach the building. He hesitates in front of it, looking up at the facade. It looks just as it did the last time he was here. Same lobby, same doorman, same lift. They haven’t even fixed the panel that's been sticking, and it takes a good deal of force for him to press the button for your floor.

The doors close, and he stares at his reflection, at the dark circles under his eyes, the scruff that has accumulated on his cheeks and chin, the lines that have appeared at the corners of his eyes and across his forehead. And then his gaze wanders to the ports and implants, the reminder of what was taken from him and what he was left with. He traces the outline of one with his thumb, remembering how he used to be.

He looks tired.

What are you doing? He asks himself.

He's not sure what he's expecting, doesn't have a plan for what will happen. All he knows is that he can't get the image of you out of his head. He imagines you coming home from work, and him being there, waiting. Would you be surprised? Happy? What would you say? What would he say?

Echo sighs.

He's an idiot.

The lift dings, and the doors slide open.

Your apartment is halfway down the hall, and Echo's stomach clenches with each step he takes. He reaches it and stands outside for a minute, running his fingers over the metal door, staring at the numbers painted on the surface.

It's just a door, he tells himself. Nothing special. Just a door.

His hand moves on its own, hovering over the bell. He waits, listens. There's no sound coming from inside, no music, no voices. Maybe you're not home yet.

Or maybe you're out. Maybe you're not alone.

He rings the bell and holds his breath, counting the seconds.

One. Two. Three. Four.

Nothing.

Echo rings again, this time holding the button down for a few extra seconds, listening for any sign of movement.

There's nothing.

The knot in his stomach tightens, and he releases the button, letting out the breath he'd been holding. He runs a hand over his face, feeling the heat of his skin through his glove. He's sweating.

Well, that's it, then.

He'd thought he was prepared for this possibility, but hearing the silence behind the door and knowing that you aren't home has shaken him more than he anticipated.

Maybe this is for the best, he thinks. It's better this way. Safer.

But the disappointment is palpable.

He's not sure what to do. He considers waiting a little longer, just to make sure, but the more he thinks about it, the more stupid it seems. He doesn't belong here anymore. He shouldn't be here, standing outside your door, hoping for something that won't happen.

He needs to go.

As Echo turns away from the door, a voice calls out behind him.

"Can I help you?"

For half a second, he's sure he imagined it, sure that it's just his brain playing tricks on him, taunting him. But then the voice speaks again.

"Are you looking for someone?"

Echo spins around, heart leaping into his throat, and there you are.

Standing there, a few paces away, is the woman he's been dreaming about, the one he's thought about every day, the one he's missed so much that it hurts.

Your hair is different, longer than he's ever seen it, pulled away from your face. You're wearing a dress, something he's only seen a handful of times, and your makeup is impeccable, but he can still see the hint of tiredness behind your eyes. He wonders how many hours you've put in at work this week, how much you've had to fight for your clients.

But the most noticeable change is that you're looking at him. Your datapad is held loosely in your hands, a bag of groceries on your hip, and you’re staring at him, your brow furrowed in confusion.

He doesn’t blame you.

This is a strange situation, and you must be wondering who the hell is standing in front of you, why they rang your bell and then walked away.

"Um," Echo says, suddenly aware that he hasn't spoken. He clears his throat, trying to gather his wits. He didn't think this through. "Hi."

You blink, clearly not expecting that response.

"Hi," you reply, warily.

Echo tries to say something, but the words won't come.

He's frozen in place, staring at you, unable to do anything except take in your appearance, drinking in the sight of you. He didn't realize how much he needed to see you until now, and the relief he feels is overwhelming.

"Do I..." You trail off, studying him carefully. "Do I know you?"

He feels his heart break, just a little.

You don't recognize him. Of course, you wouldn't. It's been so long, and he's not the same man you knew. His face is one of thousands, identical and interchangeable. He doesn't even look like a clone anymore, not really. He's more machine than man, now, and he has no idea how he expected you to see him.

"Yeah," he manages to say, his voice hoarse. "Yeah, you do."

You raise your eyebrows, waiting. When he doesn't say anything else, you take a step towards him, squinting a little. He can feel the tension in his body, can sense your scrutiny. It's not comfortable, but it's not unpleasant, either.

"Sorry," you say, sounding frustrated, "I can't quite —"

You stop, your eyes widening, and Echo can see the exact moment it clicks.

"Oh," you gasp, covering your mouth with a shaking hand. The motion makes the paper bag of groceries on your arm start to slip, and Echo rushes forward to catch it, placing it on the floor by your feet. He stands up, and he can feel your eyes on him, can see the tears beginning to well up, can hear your breathing quicken.

He waits.

"Echo?" Your voice is soft, tentative, like you're not sure if he's real or not. Like he's some kind of ghost. He's not sure that's not what he is.

"Hey, cyar'ika," he says. His voice cracks, and he clears his throat again.

A small, incredulous laugh escapes you.

"Hi," you breathe. You cover your mouth again, trying to stifle the sob that rises from your chest. "I —" 

You let out a shaky breath, and then another, and then all of a sudden, you're crying, tears streaming down your face. Your hands come up to wipe them away, but more keep falling, and Echo is overwhelmed with the desire to hold you, to take away the pain and the sadness, to make everything right. But he doesn't know if he's allowed, doesn't know if it would be welcome. So instead, he just stands there, helpless.

"I'm sorry," you hiccup, wiping your face with the back of your hand. "I can't believe it's you."

He smiles at that, his own eyes burning. "It's me," he confirms. "I'm here."

You're shaking your head, your eyes never leaving his face, as if you're afraid that he might disappear if you look away. He doesn't blame you, and he does his best to stay as still as possible. The last thing he wants is to scare you, or make you think he's going to leave. Not when he just got here.

"I thought..." You start, and then trail off.

"I know."

You swallow hard, taking a moment to compose yourself. "I thought you were dead."

Echo winces. He's heard those words from a lot of people, but coming from you, they hurt. "Yeah, I, uh... I thought so, too, for a while."

He sees the look of horror that crosses your face, the way your eyes grow wet again, and he wishes he hadn't said it.

"How... How long have you been back?" you ask. Your voice is quiet, strained, and Echo can hear the question underneath, the one you're afraid to ask. The one that makes his stomach twist into knots.

"Not long," he answers, trying to keep his tone even, light. "Only a couple months, really."

"Months?" you repeat, incredulous. "You've been back for months?"

Echo shifts uncomfortably and nods. "Yeah."

You stare at him, your mouth opening and closing as you search for words. "And... And you didn't comm me?"

"I, uh... No."

You let out a sharp exhale and turn away, bringing your hands to your face, and he can see that you're starting to shake again. You're silent for a moment, and he can feel his heart pounding, can feel the blood rushing in his ears. His stomach churns, and he feels like he's going to be sick.

"Why?" Your voice is tight, controlled. It's the same voice you use when you're working, the one you use to keep yourself calm, to keep yourself from getting angry.

"I just... I wasn't..." Echo trails off, not sure what to say. I wasn't sure if I was coming back? That's true, but not the whole truth. I wasn't sure you'd want to see me? Also true, but also not the full answer. I wasn't sure I was worth it? Yeah, that's the one.

But he can't say it.

He doesn't know if it's fear or guilt or shame, but whatever it is, it keeps the words stuck in his throat. You're waiting for an answer, and he's not sure he has one.

"Echo," you say, your voice a warning. You turn to face him again, and he can see the hurt and frustration in your eyes. He wants to hold you, wants to apologize, wants to take it all back. But he doesn't move. He can't.

"Why?" you repeat, more forcefully this time.

"I didn't want to bother you," he says. It's the best answer he can come up with, and the worst part is that it's also true. At least, that's what he tells himself.

But the moment the words leave his mouth, he knows it's the wrong thing to say. You stiffen, and then your jaw tightens. He can tell that you're barely holding it together, and he wants to say something, to explain, but he doesn't get the chance.

"You didn't want to bother me," you repeat, and Echo can hear the anger in your voice, can feel the sting of it. "I'm sorry, did I not make it clear how much I care about you?"

"No, you did," Echo says, backtracking, trying to placate you. "You did, I promise."

"Then please explain how you thought keeping me in the dark about the fact that the man I love was still alive and well was not a bother."

The word "love" hits him like a punch to the gut.

You love him. You still love him. You're still here, and you're still loving him, even after everything. He doesn't understand, doesn't know why. Doesn't know how. But he doesn't have time to think about it, not with the way you're looking at him, the hurt and confusion clear on your face.

"That's not what I meant," he says, his voice low, pleading. "It's not that. I promise."

You let out a shaky sigh, crossing your arms over your chest. "What's the difference, then?"

Echo opens his mouth, and then closes it again, not knowing what to say.

"I mourned you," you say. Your voice is soft, almost a whisper, but it sounds loud in the silence between the two of you. "I loved you, and I mourned you, and I was doing okay, and then you just show up, and act like it's no big deal, like I didn't spend weeks, months waiting for you to come back, hoping you'd come back, and..."

Your voice cracks, and a fresh wave of tears begins to roll down your cheeks. Echo reaches out to brush them away, and you flinch. The motion stings, but he doesn't say anything, doesn't push it. He lets his hand drop to his side.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I didn't... I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Yeah, well, you did," you say, sniffling.

The words hit him harder than he expects, and he feels his throat tighten.

"I didn't know what to say," he admits, his voice breaking. "I didn't know what to do."

"Why not?" you ask, and your anger has softened, turning into something else. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No!" Echo says quickly. "Of course not. You were perfect. You were... You were amazing."

You look at him, and there's a vulnerability in your eyes that makes him want to gather you in his arms and never let go. He thinks maybe he should. But before he can, you speak.

"So what happened?" you ask. Your voice is quiet, but Echo can hear the desperation, the need for an answer. "Where were you? Why didn't you come back?"

“I—“ Echo looks around, suddenly aware of the hallway and the closed doors surrounding him, closing in on him. The space is too small, the walls are too close, the air is too thick. He feels trapped, like the world is closing in around him, and he takes a step back.

"Can we... Can we not do this out here?" he asks, trying not to let his voice betray his panic.

You study him for a moment, considering. He doesn't blame you. After all, he'd shown up out of the blue, and you had every right to be suspicious. You're still crying, but there's a steeliness in your gaze, and he can tell you're weighing your options, deciding if he's worth it or not. His heart hammers against his ribs as he waits, praying that you'll give him a chance.

Finally, you let out a sigh and nod.

"Yeah," you say, "sure."

You bend down to pick up the groceries, and Echo rushes forward, scooping them up before you can. You look at him, surprised.

"Let me help," he says. "Please."

You hesitate, and Echo can see the worry on your face, but then you nod, fumbling for the keypad. The lock clicks open, and you push the door open, motioning for him to go ahead.

He steps inside, and the familiar scent of your apartment hits him hard. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed it, how much he'd come to associate it with safety and comfort. It makes his chest ache, and he takes a moment to steady himself, willing the tears to stop.

Your apartment is the same, and yet so different.

It's still cozy, but there's a coldness to the air, a lack of warmth. The curtains are closed, and the room is dark, the only light coming from the dim bulb above the stove in the kitchen. There are dishes stacked in the sink, and a few pieces of dirty laundry have been discarded on the couch. The floor is littered with shoes and other miscellaneous items, as if someone came home and kicked everything off their feet, leaving it all in a pile. Echo’s brow furrows at the mess, and he wonders when you started to let the place get this way.

"I'm sorry," you say, sounding embarrassed. You take the bag of groceries from him, your cheeks flushed. "I wasn't expecting company."

"Don't worry about it," he assures you.

"Here, let me..." You trail off, disappearing down the hall, and a moment later, he hears a door slam shut.

Echo stands there, unsure of what to do. His gaze wanders around the room, taking everything in, trying to find something to occupy himself with. It feels like years since he's been here, and the sensation is both comforting and strange. He remembers the nights he spent curled up next to you on the couch, the quiet mornings in the kitchen, the lazy afternoons spent in bed.

He shakes his head, trying to focus on the present.

You're back now, and he needs to concentrate.

He takes a seat at the kitchen table, drumming his fingers against the wood.

It's quiet, but Echo can hear you moving around, and he wonders if you're trying to clean up, trying to make the place a little more presentable. He doesn't care about any of that. He cares about you.

And he doesn't know what to say.

He runs his hand over his face, pressing the heel of his palm into his eye, trying to think. He's rehearsed this moment in his head, has imagined all the different ways it could go.

And now that it's actually happening, he can't remember a single one.

He's such an idiot.

The minutes pass, and you finally return. He hears you enter the room, the soft sound of your footsteps, but he can't bring himself to look up. Not yet.

"Echo," you say, and he can hear the hesitation in your voice. "What happened?"

"I don't know where to start," he confesses, dropping his hand and glancing up at you.

You've changed into something more comfortable, a pair of sweatpants and your favorite sweater, and your face is scrubbed clean, makeup-free. It's nice to see you this way, a reminder of the times you shared together, and the sight makes him smile.

"Why are you smiling?"

"Nothing, it's just..." He pauses, his eyes wandering over you. "I forgot how you looked in sweatpants."

You roll your eyes, but there's a hint of amusement on your face. "Seriously? You're sitting here, after being missing for months, and you're making fun of my fashion choices?"

"I'm not making fun of you," he says, chuckling. The pressure in his chest eases slightly, and he takes a breath. "I just meant that I missed seeing you this way."

You let out a quiet, disbelieving laugh, and then shake your head.

"You're unbelievable," you mutter.

Echo smiles, and for a moment, he feels normal. As if the last year never happened, and this was just a day like any other. As if he'd just come home from a mission, and you'd greet him with a kiss, and everything would be fine.

But then you sigh, and the moment is over.

"Look, I get that this is... Well, I'm sure this isn't what you were expecting," you say. You move to sit across from him, leaning your elbows on the table and resting your chin in your hands. "But we can't keep pretending like nothing happened. You have to talk to me."

Echo stares at you, his eyes taking in the familiar lines of your face, the curve of your lips, the color of your eyes. They aren’t as bright as he remembered, not as full of life, and the realization breaks his heart. This isn't how it's supposed to be.

"Okay," he begins, clearing his throat. "So, uh, this is going to be a lot."

"That's okay," you say gently. You give him a reassuring nod, and Echo feels a swell of gratitude for you. "Just... Start at the beginning, and we'll go from there."

"Right, the beginning." Echo nods, trying to organize his thoughts, and then he starts to speak.

He tells you everything, from the moment the explosion happened, to the moment he woke up and found himself in Rex's arms, everything in between. He tells you about his injuries, the surgeries, the physical therapy. He tells you about his time with the Batch, his newfound abilities, the things he's been able to do, the things he's learned. He talks about the missions, the jobs, the danger they've faced, and the risks they've taken. He tells you about the planets, the people, the experiences. He tries to leave nothing out, even the hard parts. The loss, the pain, the fear. He doesn't want to spare you any of it.

You sit there and listen, asking questions when necessary, but mostly staying silent. And when he's done, he sits there, feeling a strange sense of relief. He hadn't realized how much he needed to talk about everything, how much he'd been holding in. And he hadn't realized how good it would feel to tell you. To have someone who cared, someone he trusted, who knew him better than anyone.

When the words run out, and the room is silent, you let out a long, slow exhale. You sit there, your hands folded together, your gaze fixed on the tabletop, and Echo waits, not sure what to expect. But the longer the silence drags on, the more worried he gets.

"Cyar'ika?" he asks, his voice hesitant.

You take a breath and look up at him, and Echo is startled to see that your eyes are glassy, and there are fresh tear tracks running down your cheeks.

"Sorry," you apologize, wiping at them with your sleeve. "I'm not — I just..."

You take another breath, and then let it out, composing yourself. "Thank you," you say. "For telling me. I know that can't have been easy."

"It wasn't," Echo admits, and his throat tightens a little. "But I'm glad I did."

You offer him a small smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. You look like you’re far away, lost in your own thoughts, and Echo has a feeling you're not fully present, not in the moment. And he doesn't blame you. His words can't have been easy to hear.

"Is there anything else you want to know?" he asks, trying to break the silence.

You glance at him, your eyes focusing, and then look away, your jaw clenching. Echo can see the emotion on your face, can tell that you're struggling to stay calm, to hold it together. You've always been good at that, he thinks.

"I just..." You pause, taking a shaky breath, and Echo can see the tears forming in your eyes again. "I just don't understand."

He frowns, confused. "What do you mean?"

You close your eyes, taking a moment to collect yourself. Then, you stand up and begin pacing around the kitchen, your hands clasped behind your back. You move slowly, deliberately, your gaze fixed on the floor, like you're trying to make sense of something, figure something out. 

Echo watches you, feeling uneasy. You're not giving anything away, and the silence is starting to get to him. He's never seen you in the courtroom, but he imagines this is the stance you take when you're interrogating a witness. 

It's effective.

"Can you say something, please?" he asks. He knows he sounds desperate, but he doesn't care.

"I'm thinking," you say, and Echo bites his lip.

He feels like he's going to crawl out of his skin. He wants to get up, to follow you around the room, try to coax a response out of you. He wants to make this better, to make this right. But he knows that pushing you won't help, so he stays seated, trying to keep his patience.

 You continue to pace, your expression blank, and the seconds tick by, the only sound the muffled noises of the city outside. It feels like an eternity has passed when you finally stop, standing in front of him, your arms crossed.

"I can't believe you thought I wouldn't want to see you," you say. Your voice is low, almost a whisper, and there's an edge to it that Echo doesn't recognize. It's not anger, not exactly. It's something else, something deeper.

"I know," he replies, his voice just as quiet.

"I thought you were dead," you say, the words coming out in a rush. "I grieved you. I mourned you. And then you show up, and you're... You're alive, and you're here, and you think the best thing to do is to leave me alone?"

"I didn't know what would happen," Echo explains, trying to keep his tone calm. "I wasn't sure if I was coming back, and I didn't want to —"

"No," you say sharply, cutting him off. "That's not an excuse. That's bullshit, and you know it."

Echo swallows, and nods, not sure what to say.

"We made promises," you continue, and Echo can hear the anger in your voice, can see the frustration on your face. "To each other. We talked about our future, we said things that... We made things that were real, and then you just decided it was too much, and you walked away. What the hell is that?"

"I'm sorry," Echo says around the lump forming in his throat. "I shouldn't have —"

"No," you interrupt, your eyes burning. "You shouldn't have."

Echo looks at you, and he feels like he's going to shatter. You’re staring at him with such intensity, and there's an anger in your gaze that he hasn't seen before. It's so different from the gentle look you usually give him, and it makes him ache.

"I didn't mean to hurt you," he says. "I swear, I didn't."

"Then why did you?" you ask, and there's a note of pleading in your voice. “I spent so long wondering, worrying, and you just... You didn't care."

"Of course I did," he argues. "It wasn't about that."

"Then what was it about, Echo?" you demand. "What was so important that you thought you couldn't tell me? That you couldn't comm me, or send a message, or do anything that would have let me know you were alive? That would have told me you were okay?"

"I didn't think —"

"What, that I'd care? That I'd worry? That I'd miss you? That I'd wonder where you were, and if you were okay, and what the hell happened to you?" you say, your voice rising.

Echo can feel the frustration building inside him, and he knows he shouldn't respond, knows that getting angry won't help, but the words tumble out before he can stop them. "I'm sorry," he snaps. "I wasn't exactly thinking clearly."

"That's not an excuse," you snap back, and Echo blinks, shocked. You're the most level-headed person he's ever met, and he's never heard you yell before.

"Yeah, well, it's the best one I've got," he says.

"Echo, I loved you," you say, and the past tense stings. "When Fives told me what happened to you, I —" Your voice catches, and the fight goes out of him. He can see the pain on your face, the hurt in your eyes, and he can't help but feel responsible. "I can't even describe it. It felt like my whole world was ending. And I don’t blame you for doing your duty, but I do blame you for not coming back to me."

"I know," he whispers. "I'm sorry. I really am."

You shake your head, turning away from him. "Why didn't you comm me?"

Echo hesitates. He doesn't want to admit his fears, his worries, the insecurities that have plagued him. He doesn't want to tell you how much he doubted, how much he doubted you. It feels too vulnerable, too raw. And it would only make you feel worse. But the longer the silence stretches, the more you deserve the truth. And he can't avoid it forever.

"I didn't think I was worth it," he says, his voice low. He can feel the heat in his cheeks, the sting of embarrassment. He can't look at you, doesn't want to see the pity, the disappointment, the anger. "I didn't think I was worth it."

You turn to face him, your expression softening.

"You were all I had left," he says. He feels exposed, and it's not a comfortable feeling, but he can't stop now. Not with the way you're looking at him. Not when he's so close to fixing this, to getting you back. "After everything that happened, I just... I couldn't bring myself to do it. I didn't think you'd want to see me."

"You really thought I'd just leave you?"

Echo can hear the hurt in your voice, and he's surprised at the sharpness of it. He expected to be met with some amount of anger, but he didn't expect it to cut so deep. He didn't think his insecurities would upset you so much. He's used to it, by now. After everything he's been through, the doubts and worries have become a constant, an almost comforting presence. But you were never supposed to know about them.

"It's not that," he says. "I know you wouldn't have left me. It's just... I didn't want to drag you down with me."

"That's stupid," you reply. There's no malice in your voice, but there's no sympathy, either. "What makes you think I couldn't handle it?"

"It's not about what you could handle," Echo says. "You didn't sign up for this. You didn't sign up for any of it."

"I signed up for you," you argue, and Echo is startled by the fierceness of your tone.

"And look at what that got you."

You fall silent, and Echo regrets the words the second they leave his mouth. He's always known he wasn't good enough for you, but it's different to actually say it out loud. It makes it real. And he's not sure he's ready for that. But you're looking at him like you can't believe he said it, and the disappointment in your eyes makes him feel even worse. 

Your eyes rove over him, taking in the scarring, the metal implants, the ports and wires, the armor. You look like you’re seeing him for the first time, and the disgust and fear he’d thought might appear are nowhere to be found, just a profound sense of sadness and resignation.

"Oh, Echo," you breathe. The words are quiet, but they feel like a slap, and he has to look away, not wanting to meet your gaze.

"I'm not the man you knew," he says. He sounds defeated, even to his own ears. His eyes are burning, and he has to fight to keep the tears from falling. He hates how weak he feels, how small, how vulnerable. "I can't be. I'm... I'm not him anymore."

"Yes, you are," you insist. You reach out and take his hand, squeezing gently, and the sensation makes him jump. He'd almost forgotten how warm you are, how soft. How safe. He wants to hold on, to pull you close, to never let go. "You're still the same man, the same Echo, I just..."

"What?" he asks, when you trail off. "You just what?"

You sigh, dropping his hand and running your fingers through your hair, tugging lightly. The familiar gesture makes him ache. "I don't know, Echo," you admit. "I'm... I'm sad. And I'm angry. But I'm mostly just... Confused."

"Confused about what?"

"I'm confused as to why you didn't come back to me," you say. "I'm confused as to why you thought I'd want anything else."

"I thought you deserved better," he says, the words sounding hollow, even to his own ears. "I thought you deserved someone who was whole, who could give you a normal life, who didn't have a hundred years of baggage and trauma to deal with. And I was terrified that you already had that."

"Had what?"

"A normal life," he answers. "Without me. And the more I thought about it, the more I convinced myself it was true."

"It's not," you say. Your voice is quiet, but firm, and Echo looks at you, searching for any trace of doubt, of hesitation, of insincerity. But all he finds is determination, and it makes his heart clench. The intensity in your gaze is too much, and he has to look away. His eyes trail over the walls, the ceiling, the floor, lingering on the groceries on the table, the dishes in the sink, the empty bottles of wine shoved into the trash, the pile of laundry on the couch. There’s a dent in the wall that wasn't there the last time he was here, and the carpet is worn. He wonders when that happened.

He feels a tug on his arm, and then you're reaching up to cup his face, your hands soft and warm. You turn his head to face you, your thumb stroking his cheek. The touch is gentle, comforting, and Echo can't stop the sigh that escapes him. It's been so long since someone touched him like this, and it's nice. It's more than nice. It's familiar. It's safe. It's home.

"I only wanted you," you whisper.

"Even after everything?" he asks. He doesn't mean to sound so incredulous, but he can't help it. He's spent so long convincing himself that you were better off without him, and now, hearing you say the opposite, hearing you say the words he'd only ever hoped for, the ones he'd tried to convince himself were true... It's a lot to take in.

"Even after everything," you affirm.

"You could have had anyone," he says. "Why me?"

"Because I love you," you answer, as if it's the simplest thing in the galaxy. As if it's the most obvious thing in the universe. "And I don't want anyone else."

"Cyar'ika..." His voice cracks, and the tears are falling freely now. You wipe them away, and the touch makes his chest ache.

"I've never stopped loving you, Echo," you say. Your voice is barely audible, but Echo hears it. And it's the best sound he's ever heard. "And I don't plan on stopping now."

"I'm sorry," he says. "I'm sorry I left you, and I'm sorry I didn't comm you, and I'm sorry I was such a coward, and I'm —"

"Shh," you murmur, cutting him off. "I forgive you."

Echo can't speak. He's not sure he can move, can't even breathe. The relief is overwhelming, and it threatens to knock him off his feet. His chest tightens, and the tears won't stop falling, and he doesn't know what to do. He's missed you so much, has regretted leaving every single day, and now that you're here, now that he has you back, he can't find the words to express how grateful he is, how relieved, how happy.

"You really thought I was going to leave you?" you ask, and Echo can hear the note of humor in your voice, can see the ghost of a smile on your face. It's reassuring, and he lets himself smile, too.

"Honestly? Yes," he admits.

"Never," you reply.

Echo leans down and rests his forehead against yours, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. You move your hands down his face, brushing the tears away with your thumbs, before bringing them around his neck, wrapping your arms around him. He moves to do the same, pulling you closer and wrapping his arms around your waist. You let out a quiet gasp of surprise, and Echo chuckles, holding you tighter.

"I missed you," he whispers, and it feels good to say the words out loud. "So much."

"I missed you, too," you say, your breath warm against his neck. You tilt your head and press a kiss against his throat, and Echo feels his heart stutter. "More than I can say."

Echo hums and pulls away, bringing his hand up to brush the hair away from your face. Your skin is warm, and soft, and he leans in and presses a kiss against your forehead, savoring the contact. You sigh, and he can't resist the urge to kiss you again, this time on the cheek.

"Echo," you murmur, letting out a shaky breath.

He kisses the corner of your mouth, and then your jaw, and your grip on his neck tightens, your fingers digging into the fabric of his blacks. He moves down your throat, trailing kisses along the column of your neck, and you gasp.

"I missed you, too," he murmurs, and you laugh.

"Yeah, I got that," you say. "Now, will you please kiss me?"

Echo smiles and obliges.

The kiss is soft and sweet, and it tastes like home. He cups the back of your neck, his scomp moving to rest on your hip, and you let out a pleased noise, your hands sliding down to his shoulders. The warmth of your mouth, the way your lips part, the little gasps and sighs you make, it all makes him want to get closer, to be nearer.

You break the kiss, and Echo lets out a quiet whimper. You chuckle and rest your head on his shoulder, and Echo brings his hand up to stroke your hair, his fingers combing through the strands. You sigh and lean into his touch, and he can't help the contented smile that spreads across his face.

"I'm glad you're here," you murmur. "I'm glad you came back."

"Me, too," he says. He tilts your head up and presses a kiss to your temple, his lips lingering. You close your eyes and nuzzle his neck, and Echo sighs, holding you close. It feels so good to have you in his arms again, to be able to hold you, and he wishes he could stay here forever. But the reality of the situation catches up with him, and he can't help the wave of guilt that washes over him.

"I'm sorry, Cyar'ika," he says.

You frown, and pull away slightly. "What are you apologizing for?"

"I didn't think this through," he admits. "I... I didn't know what was going to happen, and now..." He pauses, letting out a frustrated sigh. "I just... I'm sorry. I’m leaving soon, and I know it's going to be hard, and I know you're going to have to say goodbye again, and I'm —"

"Echo," you interrupt, and your voice is firm. You put your hand on his chest, and he can feel the heat of it, even through the layers of armor and clothing. "I know what I signed up for. I'm not expecting anything different."

"But —"

"No," you cut him off. "No buts. I knew what this was, Echo. And I still want it."

"But you shouldn't have to," Echo argues. "I don't want to put you through that."

"Well, it's a little late for that," you reply. Your tone is sharp, and Echo winces. "Look, Echo. I know the situation isn't ideal, but I'm not going to walk away because it's hard. And I'm not going to stop caring just because it hurts." You look at him, and the determination in your gaze makes his heart skip a beat. "You're worth it, okay? No matter what."

"Cyar'ika —"

"No," you say, shaking your head. "You're not changing my mind. You can try, but it's not going to work. So don't waste your time." You give him a stern look, and then your face softens. "Okay?"

"Okay," Echo agrees. He knows it's futile to argue. He's never been able to say no to you. Not when it matters. "I'm still sorry, though."

You roll your eyes, and then stand on your toes and give him a quick kiss. "You're lucky I love you," you say, and the words make him feel lighter.

"Yeah, I am," he agrees, grinning.

"So, what now?" you ask.

Echo shrugs, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. He's been so focused on finding you, on convincing you to forgive him, on making things right, that he hasn't thought about what comes next. The prospect of it is both exhilarating and terrifying, and he doesn't know where to start. There's so much to do, and so little time. And he doesn't want to waste another second.

"Do you want to stay?" you offer.

"Stay?"

"Here," you clarify. "For a while. I don't know how long you can, but..." You pause, a flush spreading across your cheeks. “I was going to make dinner. If you wanted to stay."

"Dinner?" Echo repeats, and he can't hide the excitement in his voice. The idea of a home-cooked meal is so far removed from his life now, so distant, that the thought of it almost makes him lightheaded. "Really?"

You laugh, and the sound fills him with warmth. "Yes, Echo. Really."

"What are you making?" he asks. The question sounds childish, and he can't believe how eager he is, how excited.

"Just a simple dish," you say. You move towards the counter and begin putting the groceries away, and Echo follows you, a smile spreading across his face. While you tell him about the recipe, he moves toward your sink, picking up a dish and turning the water on. You look over at him, and the fondness in your eyes makes him blush. "You don't have to do that, Echo."

"I know," he replies. "I want to."

"Well, alright then."

The two of you work together, talking and laughing as you wash the dishes and prepare the food. Echo feels lighter than he has in months, and it's a relief to be here with you, to have something normal and familiar to do. Something so domestic, so ordinary, and yet, so special.

He wants to remember this.

When the food is ready, you gesture to the table, and Echo takes a seat. You sit across from him, and for a moment, the two of you just look at each other. He's missed you, missed this. Missed being here, missed having someone who knew him, someone he could trust. Someone he could love.

You're both quiet, and Echo can see the wheels turning in your head, can see the way your eyes dart over him, taking everything in. You're cataloging, committing him to memory too. The realization hits him, and his chest tightens. He'll be leaving soon, and you're doing what you can to make sure you won't forget him. It's a sobering thought, and he's not sure how to handle it.

"Hey," you say, and Echo looks up, meeting your gaze. "It's okay. We'll be fine."

"How did you know?" he asks, startled.

You shrug. "It's written all over your face."

"I'm sorry," he murmurs. "I wish I could stay."

"It's okay," you repeat. “We have the night, and that’s more than enough. For now, let's just enjoy the time we have."

Echo nods.

You're right.

You always are.

You smile, and it's so beautiful, so genuine, that it takes his breath away. You reach across the table and take his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. He squeezes back, and you lean forward, resting your elbows on the table and putting your chin in your hand. The way you're looking at him, the affection in your eyes, it makes him feel like he's the only thing that matters, like he’s home.

And, right now, he is.

He's missed this.

He's missed you.

And as the two of you sit there, enjoying each other's company, Echo knows he's made the right choice. He knows that coming back was worth it, that finding you, fixing things, making things right, it's all been worth it. And he knows that, no matter what, he'll be back.

He'll find his way back to you.

Taglist: @baddest-batchers @covert1ntrovert @stellarbit @bruh-myguy-what @qvnthesia

@spicy-clones @kindalonleystars @cw80831 @totallyunidentified @heidnspeak

@lovelytech9902 @frozenreptile @chocolatewastelandtriumph @etod @puppetscenario

@umekohiganbana @resistantecho @dindjarins1ut @tech-aficionado @aynavaano

@burningnerdchild @ihatesaaand @lolwey @hobbititties @mere-bear

@thegreatpipster @lordofthenerds97 @tentakelspektakel @notslaybabes @mali-777

@schrodingersraven @megmegalodondon @dangraccoon @dreamie411 @sukithebean

@bimboshaggy @anything-forourmoony @9902sgirl @jedi-dreea @salaminus

@ghostymarni @gottalovehistory @burningnerdchild @yoitsjay @callsign-denmark

@julli-bee @sonicrainbooms @captn-trex @feral-ferrule @webslinger-holland

@marchingviolinist @deerspringdreams

[aphroditelovesu]

do you have any cute jeong guwon headcanons?

(i'm dying over the little smile he makes when he gets to eat cake)

❝ 👹 — lady l: It's very short, but I hope you like it! And yes, that smile... 👀😧

❝tw: none, just fluff.

❝👹pairing: soft yandere!jeong gu-won x gender neutral!reader.

Jeong Gu-Won may seem like a cold and insensitive guy/demon and that's true, but only to people he doesn't like or know because to you he's a big softie and totally clingy.

He's completely clingy. He hates it when you have to get out of bed and leave him because he wants to cling to you and never leave your embrace. He definitely tries to convince you not to work/study. He has enough money to support you, so why not cuddle with him?

He loves going out with you, taking you on dates and just being close to you. His smile convinces you easily because of how adorable he looks when he's like that for you.

Gu-Won is always keeping an eye on you, in a friendly way of course. His hard gaze softens and there could even be hearts in his eyes, like an emoji, of how in love he is with you.

He loves to hug you! Lots of hugs, from behind, side and front! Any opportunity he gets to hold you in his arms, he will do so immediately. He also likes to put his head in the crook of your neck and smell you.

Gu-Won is always spoiling you and if you like sweets, especially cake, as much as he does, you can be sure that you will never miss them at home. His smile when he eats cake or when he sees you happy are absolutely adorable.

It may seem controversial, but I think he would want to wear couples' clothes. Maybe something not so in-your-face, but a matching blouse or even matching accessories. Maybe even tattoos. Everything to feel closer to you.

He will definitely give you nicknames, some strange and others more loving. Maybe jagiya or something more sappy, but he likes it, one more way to show his immeasurable affection for you.

Gu-Won gets jealous very easily and will make faces, act like a child. In addition to using his powers against those who made him jealous. It could be something harmless or something more... Definite, but he gets clingier than ever when he's jealous.

He loves you, very much. Jeong Gu-Won never thought that he could love someone so much, that he could let himself be carried away by human feelings, but he did it and he couldn't be happier. Because he met you. You are his and he is yours. Plus, he's adorable, isn't he?

[taeyongdoyoung]

blessed-cur(s)ed

summary: your bestie is obsessed with the idea of your blood but there's a chance it might kill him so he dares you to try it on the most popular guy in your school for supernatural beings pairing: vampire!heeseung x powerless witch!reader side couple: future vampire!sunoo x (idk what!)sunghoon implied at the end 👀 genre: fantasy, humour, romance, lowkey insta-love but actually classmates to lovers? warnings: flirty bestie!sunoo (yes, that's a warning in itself), nerdy AND popular guy!heeseung (canon event, methinks), mentions of blood, talks of death, experiments, book of cur(s)es, the bet trope with a twist, attempted murder (but not really), kissing, biting, kneeling, swearing, song references author's note: happy halloween, everyone! 🧛 i wanted to write something spooky-themed for the occasion and what better way than vampire enha to celebrate ❤️ i accidentally deleted my fic like a 🤡 so im reposting lol

word count: 2.8k

"I want to drink your blood sooo bad," Sunoo, your vampire bestie, keeps telling you.

Now, you may find that a bit strange. How is he a vampire and why are you so chill about it? Well, the thing is, you've been attending a school for supernatural beings for the past couple of years.

You come from a family of witches, but your powers haven't manifested yet. There is completely nothing special about you.

Well, except for one thing. Your blood, apparently. Your witchy ancestors loved experimenting with their own blood and according to some old book containing curses and other supernatural information, they turned it into a poison for vampires.

Which can be problematic, considering your bestie's obsession with how good you smell.

"Sunoo, shut up, I keep telling you that my blood and that of my entire family can literally kill you!" you repeat for what feels like the hundredth time only this month.

"Pfft, don't tell me you still believe that stupid old book? Your ancestors probably lied 'cause they were afraid vampires would bleed them dry. I mean, judging by your amazing smell, your great-grandparents' scent was probably just as tempting to vampires," Sunoo argues passionately.

"You can't risk it, Sunoo! I don't wanna lose my best friend just because you can't control your urges," you sigh loudly.

"Oh I can control myself alright, I've been living on deer and rabbits for as long as I remember. Just one tiny taste, honeypie, pleaseee, I swear, you won't even feel it," Sunoo continues the incessant begging. "My fangs aren't that sharp."

"Sunoo, no! I'm not even worried about myself, I trust your dorky ass, but you can literally die," you constantly remind him.

"Can being the key word!" Sunoo, ever the optimist says. "But what if I don't? What if your ancestors were full of shit?"

"No, die is the key word!" you fight back. "I can't lose my best friend. No means no."

"Ughhh," Sunoo complains even more. "What if we test it on someone?"

"What?!" you hiss-whisper.

"Some other vampire. What if we convince them to drink your blood and see if they die," Sunoo suggests boldly.

"That's attempted murder!" you look around to make sure none of your classmates heard you. Maybe it's a good thing most of them are so preoccupied with their own looks that they pay no attention to you two...

"It's not if they survive!" Sunoo keeps looking from the bright side.

"You're crazy," you shake your head. But the idea does sound fun...Wait, no, you're not even considering it!

"What about him?" Sunoo murmurs in your ear, just as someone enters the classroom.

It's Heeseung. Only the most popular guy in your school. The most liked, the most talented in all subjects, the most unattainable.

There's no way you could ever pull him. There's no way you could even convince him to drink your blood.

"Only vampires from my family know about the book of curses your family possesses," Sunoo nudges you gently. "You just have to get him alone and I'm sure he'll bite. Both literally and metaphorically."

You shake your head in disagreement.

"He won't. He's wayyy out of my league."

"That's bullshit and you know it," Sunoo rolls his eyes. "You're very pretty and you smell incredible! I bet you taste so sweet-"

"Dude, your obsession with my smell and potential taste is deeply concerning," you point out.

"Talk to him. I bet he'll be interested."

"What's in it for me? I don't wanna kill the guy..."

"You won't, I'm pretty sure. But just in case, I'll...say I killed him. If he happens to...you know. Not that vampires are alive in the first place, but whatever."

"That's the bare minimum, considering it's your idea,"

"Ugh, fine. I'll do your assignments till the end of the year," Sunoo promises. Knowing he's among the top students, constantly battling with Heeseung for the first place, this sounds like a very tempting offer. And considering this is your last year of high school...

"Deal," you shake his hand and get up from your chair. There are still a couple of minutes till class starts. So, you do the one thing you never thought you'd be able to do.

You approach THE Lee Heeseung.

"Um, hi," you greet him.

"You talking to me?" Heeseung looks up from his phone in curiosity.

"Yeah. Sorry, am I bothering you, Heeseung?"

"No, you're good," Heeseung chuckles and God, that sound is so smooth. "I just didn't think you knew my name."

"Are you kidding me? You're like the most famous guy in our entire school."

"I've been told. Is that why we've never talked for...um, let me think, the past four years?"

"Maybe so," you laugh nervously. "Sorry. You're kinda intimidating, you know that?"

"Me?" Heeseung repeats cutely, as if he's never heard a more ridiculous claim. "No way. So, did you want to ask me something?"

"Erm, yes, actually. Do you wanna hang out sometime? Like...do homework or stuff?"

"Sure, that sounds nice. Your place or mine?" he immediately agrees which is a huge shock to you.

Your place is out of the question. Your witchy parents would be furious if they found out you're trying to get a vampire to drink your blood. And his place sounds just as bad. If the poor guy drops dead in his own home with you being there, his vampire parents would be unhappy, to say the least.

"How about the forest?" you blurt out without thinking.

"The forest? That's a strange place for doing homework, no?"

"It's, um, quieter than the library," you respond dumbly.

"Forest it is," Heeseung complies to your complete amazement. "See you after class?"

"Yes, that'd be awesome," you mumble and hurry back to your seat as the teacher enters the classroom.

"How did it go?" Sunoo asks you quietly.

"He agreed to go out with me," you reply, still in shock.

"See? I told you he'd bite," Sunoo says with a wink.

But instead of being happy, you're dreading it. Because Heeseung seems like a really nice guy. And you're planning to use him as a guinea pig! And for what? To appease Sunoo's silly idea and get him to do your assignments for a year?

Class ends sooner than you'd like and you meet up with Heeseung in the forest near the school.

Little does your inexperienced ass know that your other classmates use the forest as a hook-up place! So, when Heeseung has no intention of doing any homework with you and kisses you without warning, you find yourself in an even more unexpected predicament. You're kissing him back, because duh, this is THE Lee Heeseung. When a chance like that appears right in front of you, you take it and don't let go. He smells and tastes so good and you finally get Sunoo's obsession with you. Heeseung wraps his fingers in your hair, deepening the kiss. Damn, you never expected he'd be into you! You're enjoying this unbelievable moment to the fullest when suddenly, he breaks the kiss and asks:

"Can I bite you? Just once, I promise. You just smell sooo freaking nice," Heeseung begs as if in a daze.

Fuck. If Sunoo was here, he'd tell you to agree rightaway. But your moral compass happens to be stronger than your loyalty to Sunoo's weird idea.

"I'm sorry, Heeseung, but no."

"I swear, I won't hurt you," he keeps pleading. Damnit, he's turning into Sunoo 2.0.

"It's not that. I feel terrible now, but I haven't been entirely honest with you. There is this old book of curses that my family possesses. And in it, it says my ancestors did some experiments with their blood. Apparently, theirs and my blood can be poisonous to vampires. If you bite me...you can literally die," you confess in a hurry, before you can change your mind. Heeseung deserves to know the truth.

"So...you approached me to actually do homework?" Heeseung blinks, still confused.

"No, I approached you because my dumbass best friend wanted me to use you as a test. To see if my blood is actually like sweet venom to vampires so he can get a taste of me next," you tell him everything like a fool.

"Oh," Heeseung appears so crest-fallen your heart is genuinely breaking for him.

You drop to your knees guiltily.

"I'm so sorry. Feel free to kill me."

"Not if you kill me first," Heeseung smirks coldly and attacks your neck with his fangs.

Fuck, no! You try to push him away but he's too strong! What is wrong with him? You literally just told him he might die if he drinks your blood. Why is he doing this? Is he suicidal or something?! You keep attempting to get him off of you but it's no use. As your blood is entering his system, you begin to feel so weak and dizzy. Oh, well. You kinda deserve it.

Just as your eyes are about to close and you are on the verge of losing consciousness, Heeseung's teeth leave your skin. He holds you in his arms so that you don't fall.

"Sorry, did I go too hard on you?" he asks sweetly, ever the gentleman.

"Are you crazy? What part of you can literally die did you not understand?"

"I apologize. You just smell and apparently, taste, so fucking sweet, I couldn't possibly resist. I won't do it again, I swear."

"That's right, you won't. Cause you will be dead!" you repeat, feeling completely exasperated.

"Oh, sweetheart, I'm already dead," he jokes. "But seriously, my reading shows there is a huge chance old books like that are not entirely reliable. I probably should have told you that sooner..."

"Yeah, you should have!" you try to be angry but you also feel so worried for him. Even though you don't know him that well, you've already gotten attached.

"I'm really sorry," Heeseung repeats.

"Why are you apologizing? What if this actually kills you?"

"Oh, I know you'll be the death of me."

So, you wait. Nothing immediately happens, which would be reassuring, if it wasn't for Heeseung's desire to keep kissing you, as if it's the most normal thing in the world to do. Boys...

A while later, you both go to your own respective homes. The next day, you arrive at the school, informing Sunoo of what recently transpired. He's really excited that Heeseung is still alive and wants to drink from you as soon as possible. But you tell him to wait a little longer.

When the first class starts and Heeseung isn't there, you think nothing of it. Maybe he overslept. But when the second class starts and Heeseung still hasn't showed up, you begin to worry. He's the best student, he never misses class, he's so diligent and hard-working.

Fuck. You killed him. That's why he's not coming to school. You immediately rush out of the classroom, ignoring your teacher's harsh reprimands. You'll deal with that later.

That is when it hits you. You don't even know where Heeseung lives. And what would you do even if you did? Show up at his place, asking his parents: "Um, sorry, but is your son still alive? You know, regardless of being a vampire?"

That would be even crazier than what happened yesterday. You run into the forest to escape your growing panic. You run and you run until you no longer remember which way the school is.

And that is when the miracle happens. You spot him! Sitting next to a tree.

"Heeseung! You're alive!" you scream in relief and rush to hug him.

"Of course I'm alive, silly," Heeseung chuckles, hugging you back.

"Why didn't you come to class?" you explain your worries to him.

"I was feeling unbelievably peckish. Thought I'd hunt for some wild animals, but nothing helped. I'm still hungry as hell."

"That's strange," you reply. "Do you think it could be because of my blood? Do you feel any different?"

"I don't know," Heeseung shrugs. "I'm just so fucking hungry. Can I bite you again, please?"

"No, Heeseung, we still don't know whether or not it's lethal. It just might take more time. If you drink more of my blood, something bad could happen."

"You're right, I know," Heeseung's head drops in disappointment. "Forget I even asked."

"I have a turkey sandwich in my bag?" you offer. "I know vampires don't eat food like that but still..."

"You know what? That sounds really delicious, can I please try it?"

"Um, sure," you don't know why he's asking so politely since you literally just suggested it. As you unwrap and hand him the sandwich, you are amazed by how quickly he devours it.

"Damn, this was the best meal I've ever had!" Heeseung exclaims in surprise.

"Huh," you blink at him and touch his forehead on a whim. Why is it so warm? He was freakishly cold yesterday. "Are you feeling sick?"

"No, I feel much better after this sandwich, why?"

"Erm, not to concern you or anything but your skin is like super warm."

"That's...not normal for a vampire," Heeseung reasons.

"Exactly," you respond and touch his wrist with your fingers. Squeezing his veins lightly you feel something. Something that shouldn't exist. Something that you previously thought impossible. "Um, Heeseung...you have a pulse."

"What?!" he checks for himself, confirming what you just said as true. "Do you happen to know where I can read that book of your ancestors?"

"I carried it in my bag today, just in case," you praise your past self for being so clever and pull out the old book, handing it to Heeseung.

As he reads the section that contains information about your ancestors' blood.

Heeseung nods in contemplation as he finds the thing he's looking for.

"Just as I thought. This book isn't the original text your ancestors wrote. It's a translation. Or maybe I should say a mistranslation. Look, here," he points to a particular place with his finger. "It says forever cursed shall be the vampire that our blood drinks but the grammar is all wonky. Not easy to spot. It should be forever cured. I think your blood has the ability to turn vampires into humans."

"So...you're a human now?" you blink in surprise.

"I guess so."

"Fuck, Heeseung, I'm so sorry!" you cry out apologetically.

"Are you kidding? I've wanted to turn human my whole life!"

"What, why? Why give up immortality?"

"Because I just want to a normal, boring life, marry the girl of my dreams, settle down, have kids. Is that too much to ask for?"

"No, I get it," you sigh wistfully. "My parents are so disappointed in me and the fact that my witchy powers haven't manifested yet. But what if that's all I have? Just a normal girl whose blood turns vampires into humans..."

"There's nothing normal about you," Heeseung chuckles but the way he says it makes it sound like a compliment. "Hey, does that offer for doing homework in the forest still stand?"

"Sounds great to-" you don't even get to finish your sentence because Heeseung is kissing you again. Damn, you forgot that the word forest was code for making out.

Oh, well, there are worse things you could do...

Bonus:

"So, can I drink your blood now?" Sunoo asks.

"Bro, did you not hear what I just said? I turned the most popular vampire in our school for supernatural beings into a human! He can no longer even go to our school. His parents must be furious with me. I'm lucky they haven't killed me. Hell, I'm lucky they're letting me date him. I really don't get it."

"You know that doesn't sound too bad to me, right?" Sunoo keeps begging.

"I may have survived Heeseung's parents but what makes you think I'll survive yours?"

"You're my best friend. They'll get over it," Sunoo shrugs carelessly.

"You're literally addicted to the idea of my blood. Get help!"

"You wanna kiss me so bad it make you look stupid," Sunoo sticks his tongue out childishly.

"You wish," you roll your eyes.

"Do you think Heeseung will be mad at me if I bite you? Oh, right, he's human now, so he can't hurt me," Sunoo leans in.

"Sunoo, no!" you try to push him away.

"You'll let me one day, I know it," Sunoo grins widely, showing you his sharp fangs.

They might scare another witch, but not you. You know how powerful your blood is and while Heeseung was miraculously happy to turn into a human, 99% of the vampire population would rather die than become humans. So, you believe you're safe with Sunoo. For now. If you can only find someone whose scent is more tempting to him than yours...

"Good morning, everyone! Today we have a new student, his name is Sunghoon," the teacher announces all of a sudden. "Let's welcome him!"

"Hi, Sunghoon!" the class says in unison.

"Damnit, he smells incredible," Sunoo whispers in your ear.

Ah shit, here we go again...

The End

[bump1nthen1ght]

On The Leash (M!Reader x M!Werewolf)

Pairing: Male!Power-Bottom!Reader x Male!Sub-Top!Werewolf

Genre: Established relationship, Urban Fantasy

Warnings: Degradation, Name-Calling

Word Count: 1471 words

Summary: Too many people your boyfriend may seem like a big bad werewolf. But for you, he’s just a sweet little puppy.

Request: Hey, I love your works! Can I request power bottom male reader x sub top male werewolf?

Maybe a mix of praise and degradation 👀👀

It’s moments like these that you’re happy you and your boyfriend have your own apartment.

Without roommates, you’re free to lounge in your boxers on the couch anytime of day. Your boyfriend can walk around with a towel slung around his hips, fully shifted and relaxed. You can admire the curve of his ass and smack it the next moment, and he can crawl right over you and slot his lips into yours. The heat and excitement can escalate, your hands wandering and hips grinding as your breathing gets heavy, as your kisses get sloppy.

Like now, for instance.

Ben’s fur smells fresh, the lavender scent of that fur-spray you gave him. His snout is wet against your ciollarbone as he licks and kisses at your chest. A heavy bulge rests against your thigh as he slips in between your legs, your fingers curling through his fur.

“Thinking about me in there?”

“Maybe.” Ben chuckles, peppering your face with kisses. “I saw you and couldn’t contain myself.”

“Hmm, naughty boy.” Your fingers yank on the back of his head, forcing him back and away from your lips. Ben’s tongue lolls out in a pant, the pain only making his cock twitch. “Did you touch yourself?”

Ben’s neck rolls with a heavy breathe.

“M-maybe.”

You pull again, wrapping your leg around one of this thighs to keep his cock pressed against you, choosing to ignore the way he humps against you.

“It’s a yes or no question.”

“Yes! Yes I did.”

You click your teeth, exaggerating your false “disappointment”.

“And yet you didn’t invite me in. That was rude, dear.” Your other hand plants itself on the couch, using it as leverage to push up and kiss his bobbing neck. “I think someone needs to be reminded of his place.”

Ben is large fellow, pushing 6’4 and all muscle and mass. Yet in your hands he’s like putty, weight following easily as you flip yourself over and on top of him. His cock tents his towel, the white fabric falling between his thighs like a sexy loincloth.

“Since you felt selfish enough to jerk off without me, I think I’ll put that cock to good use.” You fish your dick out of your boxers, shucking them down your thighs and off your ankles. Ben growls, his chest rumbling underneath as he watches your head smack against your stomach. But any authority is lost with the keening whine as you grab his own cock, hand gripped tight around the base.

“Uh-uh, I’m setting the pace for this one, dear. If you even try to move without my permission-” Your thumb yanks his cock forward, another whine coming from Ben’s chest. “-You don’t get to cum. Understand?” Ben nods his head, eyes watery and desperate as you slowly shift up your hips, grabbing a spurt of lube from a nearby bottle (another benefit of living without roommates) and coating his cock.

You're slow and controlled as you sink onto Ben’s dick, his head thrown back in a muffle howl when you fit him to the hilt. The burn is only slight, plenty of practice making the motion feel natural.

“Eyes on me, or you’ll regret it.” You bark, hips grinding against his. Ben whines again, but follows you obediently, his pupils wide as he bites his bottom lip.

A jolt shoots up your spine as the head of Ben’s cock grazes your prostate, and you fight the urge to start using him like a sex toy immediately. He needs to earn that privilege.

You set a slow pace, merely rocking your hips back and forth, letting that pressure hit just right deep inside of you. Ben’s tail swings agitated behind you, his thighs shaking as he forces himself to stay still. He’s being awfully good, but to torture him more you make sure to exaggerate your breathy moans, rubbing a hand down your chest as you sway.

“S-shit, you’ve got such a perfect cock.” Bem’s ears perk up, another purr rumbling between your legs. “Always stretching me open so perfectly. Just how I like it.” The hand on your chest moves down to your navel till you reach your dick, rubbing your thumb across your weeping head. Ben’s dark tongue darts across his lips when you spit into your open palm and begin to jerk yourself off. “Fuck~”

You can feel Ben’s cock twitching inside of you, veins throbbing as you tease. But he hasn’t moved or looked away, obediently following your every command, even as you torture him. Those big brown eyes of his look so cute in this position, so eager to please you.

“You’re being an awfully good boy, Ben. I’m impressed.” Your free hand runs down his chest, drawing circles in his lower stomach, admiring the way he twitches and shakes form the smallest of contact. “I think you’ve earned yourself a reward.”

You splay your fingers onto Ben’s chest, finding grip on his fur as you lean upwards off his cock, pulling out until only the tip remains. Ben’s ears curl forward, his mouth open to beg for more when you throw yourself back onto the hilt, voice catching in his throat.

“Hnggh!”

You set a brutal pace, rocking your couch across the cheap flooring. His heavy, sweaty balls slap against your ass cheeks as you ride him like a prize stallion. Your hand sloppily continues jerking your cock, chasing the knot that tightens with every thrust backwards.

Ben, to his credit, still keeps his eyes on you, the order not rescinded. His long claws dig into the sofa cushion to keep his focus, watching you bounce on his dick. His shaky pupils dart between your face and your cock.

“P-please.”

“Please what? You need to speak up, dummy.” You tease, despite the way your voice shakes from exertion, sweat dripping down your forehead.

“Please, let me fuck you.”

“Hmmm.” You tap your chin, fake contemplating as you swivel your hips. “I’m feeling generous, so I suppose that could work.” Ben’s ears shoot straight up, his tail thumping against the couch as you lean backwards. There’s a wet schlick as you pull his cock out and lay yourself backwards, legs spread wide. You keep a firm grip around your shaft, licking your lips as Ben scrambles to mount you.

Ben’s hands shake as he pushes your thighs up to your chest, tongue lolled out in desperate pants as he lines his aching cock up with your hole. Ben’s a large fella, easily covering up your whole body as his hot head presses against the ring of muscle.

“Holy shit.” Ben’s eyes twitch as he sinks deep into you. With his patience all spent up, he instantly ruts into you like an animal, the sound of slapping skin echoing off the shitty apartment walls. His brow furrows as his breathing gets heavy, all those muscles put into action with his harried thrusts.

“Hey, look at me.” A soft touch to his jaw has Ben focusing back on you, hot breaths flowing across your face. Your thumb brushes across his cheek. “You’re my good boy, aren’t you?”

“I-I’m your good boy.” Ben stutters out, his cock twitching unside you.

“Good boys get to cum inside.” Your voice falls into purr, your grip soft as you carress Ben’s face. His pupils have blown wide, his thrusts picking up speed as he finally gets to chase his high. You keep talking, knowing he loves the sound of your voice. “You treat me so well, always know how to make me feel fantatsic.” You punctuate your sentence with a breathy moan, feeling yourself get closer and closer.

Ben loses himself in his focus, falling down to his elbows and pressing his chest against yours. Fur and skin stick together in a sweaty tangle, but you don’t care. You press a kiss against the side of his mouth, enjoying the taste of salt.

Your eyes scrunch up tight as you feel your orgasm approaching, your balls tightening with every thrust of Ben’s hips.

“Aah~” Your vowels wobble as your hips and cock jerk, finishing all over Ben’s stomach. Ben digs his muzzle into your neck, his chest heaving against yours.

Time for his reward.

“Cum for me, baby.” You whisper in Ben’s ear, his whole body trembling as he hits his peak, fresh jets of cum filling you up.

“Fuck!”

Ben draws out the last syllable, hips still humping, his semen deep inside you, He collapses on top of you, tail flopped to the side. He’s still cock-drunk, eyes wobbling and bereft of speech. You fall into the heated mess, your boyfriend feeling like a weighted blanket on top of you. A sweaty, stinky weighted blanket.

But he’s all yours and you're all his, and that is what matters at the end of the day.

[hellosweetart]

We've seen Yog and Nacha

How about Ishtar and Francis? 👀

Glad you asked!

To me Ishtar's true form is the thin, green leathery skin we see canonically in the game, but she can turn herself into a lovely lady if she wants to. (Minus the black hollow eyes and sharp Cheshire like smile; she has no ability to change that) And she can set aside her pest powers and make herself smell good if she wants to. Jasmine is her favorite choice of fragrance.

My HC Ishtar knows how to seduce, and Francis is doing his best not to fall for her trap.

"What's wrong, love? Do you not want my touch? You can caress me all you want..."

"You must like what you see..."

Francis moved himself away.

"I...I..I'm sorry I don't want to do this.."

"I get it... You want to remain a gentleman. But where is the fun on that?"

[cosmicseafoam]

You can't just tag that one mindvirus post as Phantom and not elaborate 👀

😇

I’ve talked about it a teeny little bit before but haven’t gone super in depth. Sorry this got so long lmao

CW for dubcon mentions.

I think phantom absolutely uses their quint powers for evil. It’s all pre-discussed and consensual, and certain ghouls have agreed to not know when they’re going to use it.

Aether and Omega both think it’ll be impossible for phantom to take them down. They’re much bigger than bug, and they’ve been around a lot longer. Plus they know bug doesn’t pay much attention in their lessons, comes across as uninterested in harnessing their skills. But the look of fear that flashes across Aethers face when he sees just how quickly Phantom weaves their magic into Omegas brain will fuel their orgasms for the next Millenia. Now sometimes when they're having infirmary meetings, Phantom will locks eyes with Aether and smirk as they gently ghost a fingertip over Omegas neck and let a tiny bit of quintessence slip in just to smell the panic and arousal.

Swiss can feel it as it happens but loves not knowing when it'll be. Can feel the lightning crackle through his blood, can see the lavender haze swirl across his vision before it takes over. He likes it when Phantom takes it slow and teases him with it, they both like that Swiss pretends to put up a fight about it. As if the small amount of quintessence he harnesses could ever be a match against Phantom. Sometimes Phantom likes to give him an out of body experience, uses him like a doll while all Swiss can do is watch on. Sometimes Phantom likes to make him hyper aware of his actions but completely out of control. This is how it all started, really. So sure of themselves but too nervous to ask Swiss to be rough. To make Phantom take everything he was willing to give. So they pumped him full of quintessence, laughed at the confusion on Swiss' face and sighed. "Oh no, please don't hurt me. Please please you can't cum in me I'll get pregnant. No, please, don't." All while making Swiss manhandle them like a ragdoll.

Rain hasn't let Phantom use it on him yet, but will gladly join in while they pump Dewdrop full of quintessence. Sometimes Dew just desperately needs to get out of his own head, and Phantom is more than happy to help him with that. Will lean him back to chest on their lap, slender hand gently wrapped around his throat until his eyes glaze over into a soft purple. Will hold him there and softly stroke across his stomach and chest, holding Dews legs open with their own while Rain eats him out before Rain takes turns fucking them both with his tentacle.

I think the first time Rain ever lets Phantom use their quintessence on him is when his clutch comes early and he NEEDS to lay them but Dew is away with Papa on important abbey business but Rain is too embarrassed to ask outright. Comes to Phantom with tears in his eyes, places Phantoms fingertips onto his temple and they know exactly what he needs. Takes Rain back to his nest and pumps quintessence into his skull until Rain has them pinned with their legs to their chest, telling Phantom to "fucking take it" and their eyes roll back in their head at the feeling of Rain emptying his eggs into them.

The first time they use it on Cumulus is so she'll fully seat herself on their face, happy to be used as a toy for her pleasure. The first time they use it on Cirrus, it's to lull her into an almost sleep, interlocking their legs together and rubbing their little t dick against her clit but not letting her cum for hours. The first time they use it on both of them together is just because they want to watch the girls fight for dominance. Phantom isn't even involved, just watching to the side as they wrestle each other, trying to get the other to submit for long enough to pin the other down and fuck them with a quint strap.

Turns out, Mountain is actually the hardest ghoul for Phantom to take over so they HAVE to do it when Mountain is blissfully unaware. Typically sneaking into the greenhouse when Mount has been out there too long, snakes their skinny arms around his waist and underneath his singlet, pumping as much quintessence into him as quickly as possible before he realises it's happening. Phantom has gotten in trouble for many broken pots this way but it's worth it to watch Mountain lose control of his glamour, growing impossibly huge and pinning Phantom to the dirt, fucking them until they can't take it anymore.

To me, Phantom and Aurora are siblings so they only ever use it for really childish things like a classic "stop hitting yourself" or when Aurora pours the last of Phantoms favourite cereal but Phantom wants to take it without a fight.

[holybibly]

when i tell you that hongjoong has had my shy submissive ass in a chokehold these past few weeks,, i can’t stop thinking about riding him in his studio (maybe even with seonghwa watching 👀) and having him taunt me like “aww poor baby couldn’t wait? needed me that badly?” oh my GOD.

kim hongjoong when i (consensually) get my hands on you I’ll give you the night of your life

Today is the last, the hard hours continue until the end of the week.

Looks like you’re not the only one under our captain’s cute little finger. Most of the requests I get now concern him.

Something makes you incredibly soft and submissive when you have sex in the studio with Hongjoong. It's just a certain level of intimacy between you that only the two of you realise. But lately, more and more, you've started to imagine what it would be like to have Songhwa's sparkling cat eyes watching you as you bounce up and down on Hongjun's cock.

When they started working on their new album MATZ, that idea became even more powerful. There were always three of you. The small studio became cramped and filled with too much sexual tension. Every time you sat on Hongjoong's lap, you felt Songhwa's hot, dark gaze slide over you, making you squirm in your seat and rub against Hongjun's cock in the most delightful way. You're getting so wet that you think you're going to stain your boyfriend's trousers.

Joong doesn't seem to mind being in public at all, as his hand quickly finds its way under your dress shirt. Or, to be more precise, under the shirt you wear as a dress. The warm, possessive touch of his palm against your needy pussy sends a pleasant shiver throughout your body.

"Wait! What are you doing? Hongjoong, stop it right now. Hwa is still there." You whimper softly into his neck, but damn, he smells so delicious. You don't even notice how you start to kiss him. Slowly, lazily, you lick his honey skin. Joong is just so sweet, so bitter, so spicy—damn, he is just so divine. 

"Mmm… please kiss me. I want you to kiss me." You moan into his neck as you run the tip of your tongue along the tantalising mole. You will find yourself falling into subspace without even realising it. The effect that Hongjoong have on you wash away any rational thought.

"So needy, aren't you baby?" He chuckles with a dark chuckle and runs his fingers through your hair. "My baby just a little slut, you act so naughty when Seonghwa is looking at you. Are you going to show him your pretty pussy as well, mm?"

"Whatever it is that makes you happy."

"You are so pretty. Isn't she beautiful, Hwa?"

"A beauty, for sure." You just go with the flow and let yourself get lost in the velvety sound of their voices. Seonghwa has always sounded so sexy and dark, or is that just a figment of your imagination?

"Do you know that she looks even more beautiful when she is riding on my dick?" Hongjoong kisses your lips sweetly and lifts up your dress to reveal your pretty, semi-sheer panties. This cute but slutty set is what he especially loves. "Do you want a look?"

"Limits?" Hwa asks, getting up from where he's sitting and coming closer to you. His hot body is pressed against your back and his soft, inviting lips are touching the back of your neck. It hits you like an electric current through your body.

"Please, I need you so much. God, daddy, I need you to be inside me so badly. My pussy hurts." You shake your hips desperately, clinging to Hongjoong's shoulders and lean your head back against Seonghwa's, immediately getting trapped by his gaze. His eyes are impenetrable dark and you feel like you want to be swallowed."I beg you."

"Absolutely unlimited. You can do whatever you want".

That's just how you find yourself, desperately bouncing on your gorgeous boyfriend's cock as Seonghwa rubs his graceful long fingers over your clit, further stimulating you and leaving wet kisses along your neck and shoulders. Hongjoong plays with your breasts, pinching your nipples and tugging at them. He bites and kisses you so hard that every single cell in your body dries up like a white flame.

"You look so perfect between us, you sweet little slut. We'll just ruin your needy pussy. That's what you want, isn't it?"

And yes, that is exactly what you have such a craving for.

[lamemaster]

A Reluctant Savior

Request: Hello! I’ve never done one of these so if I do this wrong, I apologise👀I was wondering if you could write a fic the reader and glorfindel could be in a similar situation to Flynn and tangled nearly drowning in that cave? I just thought that whole scene was so well done and I feel like since the stakes are so high that it could be a good opportunity for one of them to confess their feelings? I can just imagine glorfindel being extremely panicked(especially if the reader is human since they probably can’t hold their breath for as long) but is doing everything he can to ensure that the reader is okay and trying to keep them calm. (I don’t really know how to explain how they ended up there in the first place- maybe they were getting chased by orcs?👀)thank you for all the fics you have done thus far. I loved every single one and can’t wait for more! :) hope you have a good day/night! @itseunaimonia

Pairing: Glorfindel x Reader

Genre: Adventure ig

Wordcount: 1.9k

Summary: Bards sang of heroes and their glorious falls, of tragic demises that echoed through the ages. Tales that ended at dramatic cliffs. But they never spoke of what dwelled beneath the cliffs

AN: Thank you for requesting! I appreciate you reaching out and reading my work :) I was not aware of that scene but it so beautiful. I tried my best. I hope you like it!

This was a terrible idea. Utterly ridiculous. You were an idiot of the highest order.

Gritting your teeth, you heaved the unconscious elf further into the dark tunnel. Sweat slicked your palms as you wrestled with his dead weight.

How in Valinor's grace did you get yourself into this mess? Experts, those smug know-it-alls, would probably say you had it coming.

The cobbled streets of your childhood were a constant symphony of smells - the yeasty aroma of fresh bread from bakeries, the acrid sting of smoke from blacksmith's forges, and the ever-present tang of sweat from the throngs of people. Yet, home was a cold, damp alley reeking of garbage and despair.

Your parents? Lost in the mists of time. Your guardian? A washed-up pickpocket who'd managed to pass on the art of filching before succumbing to age. Dead, you assumed. Just another burden you now shouldered.

Thus, you became a chameleon, a nameless nobody who shed identities like leaves changing colors. A year ago, the townsfolk chased you out with burning torches and shouts of "Witch!"

Was it the pilfered trinket from the priest's pocket? Or was it the flicker of a flame in your eyes, a flicker they deemed unnatural?

You were driven from the town with 200 cows and 70 humans. A pathetic feat. Broken ribs gnawed at your insides, each breath a fiery agony.

The branches, initially your enemies, tore at your clothes and hair, but with each passing day, you learned their language.

The meandering river became your guide, its gentle gurgling a soothing melody. The timid deer, your companions. Death, a constant companion at first, beckoned with the promise of an end to the pain and rejection.

But you clung to life, the will to survive stronger than the yearning for oblivion. Fractures mended, muscles rebuilt. The forest yielded its secrets - the healing power of herbs, the language of the wind.

You embraced the "snotty witch" label they'd pinned on you. Not entirely a witch, perhaps, but in your hand-sewn woolen robes and tiny, ramshackle cottage, you cultivated a certain...aura.

The blissful solitude, however, had likely been a facade. Whispers on the wind, a flash of movement too quick to be a bird – a sprite, perhaps, or a deer with an uncanny ability to shift form. Someone, or something, had been watching.

One day, after a long trek for berries, you returned to a scene of devastation. Your tiny cottage, a sanctuary you'd meticulously built, lay in ruins. A broken pot, once overflowing with simmering stew, lay shattered on the dirt floor. Scattered belongings mocked the life you'd carved out for yourself.

Standing amidst the wreckage, a bitter truth settled in your gut: you knew this was coming. The whispers in the wind, the fleeting glimpses of movement – a sign your solitude had been a fool's paradise.

With a sigh that condensed the frustration of a lifetime, you crouched amongst the debris. You assessed the broken clay pot, a treasured piece salvaged from the forest's bounty. Repairing it seemed futile. A diet of berries and a desperate prayer for the ability to digest leaves became your grim reality.

But fate, it seemed, had a twisted sense of humor. The next morning, a glimmer of defiance against your misfortune. A new pot, not of clay but of gleaming metal, sat where the shattered one lay. And beside it, a pile of neatly folded cotton clothes. Varda be praised, for you were about to face summer cloaked in your heavy woolen robes!

This marked the beginning of a peculiar trade. New pots and pans appeared, clothes tailored for the changing seasons, even intricately carved wooden animals – silent companions that filled the lonely corners of your cottage. Your once ramshackle dwelling began to feel like a home.

In return, you left notes, expressing gratitude for the unexpected gifts. They seemed to vanish into thin air, never to be found again. No reply ever graced your humble doorway, yet none of your offerings remained unclaimed.

Then, one day, a plume of smoke rose from the distant forest, a sight that defied everything you'd come to expect from your leafy haven. Curiosity, a spark long dormant, ignited within you.

Following the meandering path, the trees parting as if welcoming your approach, you stumbled upon a truth that shattered your idyllic solitude. There, nestled in the verdant embrace of the forest, stood a city. A sprawling, magnificent city the damned deer had never hinted at.

This, then, is how you found yourself here. Dragging the unconscious elf – as good as dead – deeper into the bowels of the cave. Outside, the city burned, consumed by a chaos you couldn't comprehend, an evil far more terrible than the men who had once ruled your life.

The elf was the first of his kind you'd ever seen. He lay limp in your arms, the remnants of battle etched on his face – a face that mirrored your own, yet somehow alien. Blood mingled with the familiar features – eyes, nose, lips, hair – the hallmarks of your people, the ones who dwelled in the gleaming cities far above.

He would have died from the fall. No human would have survived that plunge. But he wasn't human.

Bards sang of heroes and their glorious falls, of tragic demises that echoed through the ages. Tales that ended at dramatic cliffs.

But they never spoke of what dwelled beneath the cliffs, of those who scraped a living in the shadows, content with mere survival. Perhaps stories didn't just end on cliff faces. Perhaps some began in the very places the world chose to ignore.

Consumed by a primal need for escape, you burrowed deeper into the cave's darkness. The air grew thick and stale, the only light a faint bioluminescent glow clinging to the damp walls. Tripping over skittering mice and jagged rocks, you pushed onward. This cave had to lead somewhere, didn't it?

The weight on your back, though light, was a constant annoyance. The elf's golden hair kept slipping down, obscuring your already limited vision.

The entire cave shuddered. Rocks rained down, peppering the ground around you with a terrifying clatter. Panic surged through you – the thought of being impaled by falling debris sent shivers down your spine.

Running through this treacherous tunnel with an armored elf on your back felt like a scene straight out of a nightmare, one ending in your mangled body and the still form of the unconscious elf lost forever in the depths of this cave.

You pushed forward, a desperate need for escape fueling your every step. In a perfect world, the roles would be reversed – the elf, strong and armored, would be carrying you to safety. But then again, you'd been no match for the creature he'd faced, the monstrous entity that had set this city ablaze.

Blinded by adrenaline, you barely registered the water pooling at your feet. It wasn't until the current snatched you off your balance, shoving you back onto the uneven ground, that the danger fully registered. A torrent of water was gushing into the cave, its source hidden in the darkness ahead.

"Gods..." you choked out, the icy water now lapping at your waist. The thought of drowning, of dragging this elf down with you, filled you with a cold dread. "I am so sorry," you whispered to the unconscious elf, your voice barely audible over the roar of the rushing water. You knew the gods rarely intervened in your life, offering little comfort in the face of impending doom.

A primal fear clawed at your throat. "Don't let me die," you repeated the mantra to yourself, your fingers clawing uselessly at the slick rock wall. A new plea rose in your heart, a desperate bargain with any unseen power that might be listening: "Don't let the elf die either."

Your eyes darted to the shimmering golden strands of hair that danced around you, a stark contrast to the dark water now rising to your chin. With a grunt, you adjusted the elf's position on your back, securing him higher.

"I tried..." you rasped, your voice hoarse. "I tried to help you," you continued, digging your nails into the unforgiving rock face, desperate for a handhold, a miracle.

Frustration morphed into a desperate plea. "This life you gave me..." you choked out, the weight of the past crashing down on you. "Heal me again! Answer me for once!" You cried out to the unknown power that had sustained you, healed your broken bones all those years ago.

The next few minutes were a blur of terror and thrashing limbs. Lost in the white noise of the rushing water, you barely registered the powerful current that ripped the elf from your grasp before the water swallowed you whole.

Dark images flickered in your mind – the suffocating embrace of the water, the desperate clawing for a surface that seemed miles away. Then, a spark of memory – reaching for the elf, your hands brushing against his cold, armored form. An anchor you never asked for, a weight pulling you down further.

At least, you thought with morbid humor, you'd die holding a beautiful creature.

A morbid fascination drew your gaze to the dried blood smeared across his forehead. With a shaking hand, you wiped it away, a tender gesture that felt out of place in this watery apocalypse.

Tilting his face upwards, you felt a strange sense of urgency. This wouldn't be the end, not yet. You brought your face towards his, the last of your precious breath burning in your lungs. This, you thought, this wouldn't be death, but a spark of life, a desperate gamble with fate.

Just as your cold lips brushed against his, a powerful current slammed into you, yanking your body from the elf's grasp. The water, like a living beast, roared around you, tearing you away from the cave's darkness.

It wasn't the sweet oblivion you expected, but a surge of painful motion, dragging you through the jagged rocks and the oppressive darkness of the cave.

Finally, with a bone-jarring jolt, you were ejected from the cave's maw, tumbling onto the familiar banks of the river you'd once walked beside. Gasping for air, you lay on the muddy ground, the weight of the world pressing down on you

He scanned the small, familiar room, a smile playing on his lips. The woman who lived in the woods. The one whose solitary existence had once piqued the patrol's curiosity.

Marek, the captain, the very one who'd shattered her only pot – a memory that now felt like a lifetime ago. Most of the guards knew her.

The woman they left trinkets for – their chosen shrine of offerings. The one who traded their gifts for stories, tales of men, a legend whispered amongst the ranks of Gondolin's guards.

And now, here he was, in her ramshackle cottage, the very same one where he'd once left a basket overflowing with scones. The woman, a mere memory until now, sat beside him.

Her hair, once neatly braided, cascaded wildly around her face. Exhaustion etched itself onto her features as she slept, slumped awkwardly in a rickety chair.

How, he wondered, had this woman reached him beyond the devastation he'd witnessed? Grief threatened to overwhelm him, a phantom pain for those lost.

A sliver of sunlight slanted through the window, illuminating her wrist. There, etched into the pale skin, was a symbol that sent a jolt through him. A shimmering outline of a wave, the unmistakable mark of Uinen, the Lady of the Seas.

[fandoms-writings]

Okokok so this could be for knight bucky 👀

(if reader is like a queen or princess), Bucky is in charge of your safety, he's always near and one day he escorts you to the gardens for a walk and him and reader are alone and he's so tempted to grab your hand!!!! It's aching to know what it's like to feel your skin against his (hand scene from Pride and prejudice iykyk🤭)

carrot you genius

i definitely followed this prompt pretty loosely and it kinda took on a form of it's own but i hope you enjoy it <3

Yes, Your Grace

Part 2 | Series Masterlist

Pairing: Knight!Bucky x Queen!Reader

Word Count: 1.7K

Warnings: a little bit of angst, but that's honestly about it.

You never lasted too long at galas, especially when they weren't in your own kingdom. 

Not having the familiarity of your staff. The smell of salt in the air as the ocean breeze washed in through your open corridor. The certain click of your shoes against the marble floors. It was all yours and safe and commonplace. 

Being in someone else's kingdom, at an event where everyone wants a chance to dance with the unwed queen was exhausting. You almost never left the dance floor with how many suitors were trying to win you over, to take the seat of King next to you. You never enjoyed any of them though. You knew they were just in it for the title, the power. Most of them not believing you should be able to rule on your own. That it was sacrilege that you still remained unwed. 

But you put on a brave face, a large fake smile to appease them and to keep the peace. If you didn't provoke them, it gave them no reason to storm your castle's walls. 

The exhaustion was evident on your face as James watched you from the sidelines. He was to have eyes on you at all times, especially since you weren't in your own home. He was your protector, hand picked by your father before he passed to be your personal knight until you relieved him or reassigned him. You had yet to do either in the five years he'd been by your side. 

His armor clinked as he made his way to you, mindful not to bump into anyone with the bulky metal. Expertly moving through the sea of royals, he paced his steps with the musicians playing in the corner - he'd practiced this dance with you too many times to count. You'd wanted a partner to brush up on your skills and you'd asked him one day during your breakfast. That was the closest he'd ever been to you for that long.

Your dance partner spun you out from their arm and towards James, who gave you a knowing look when you spotted him. He smirked at the pleading in your eyes and quickened his pace, stopping next to you. 

"Pardon me, Lord Wilson, I was wondering if I could steal her grace for a moment," He requested, the tone in his voice really leaving no room for argument. He watched as you curtsied and the lord bowed to you before you turned and grabbed James's elbow, allowing him to lead you outside. 

"I thought you might like a breath of fresh air," He leaned down a bit so you could hear his whispers as you passed other attendants. "I could tell you weren't enjoying the way Lord Wilson was spinning you around the floor. 

The noise that left your lips was a mix between a scoff and a laugh and it pulled James lips into a smile as he looked down at you. 

Your hand slipped from his elbow and he let you walk just a step in front of him. You glanced over your shoulder, "I appreciate the concern, as always, Sir James." 

"I thought we discussed this," He started, following you as you wandered the gardens that, in his opinion, could never rival your own, "I requested you not to call me James."

"You did," You smirked, stopping at a stone railing that overlooked the small pond as you turned to face him entirely, leaning against the stone, "but I do love seeing you in a fit over it." 

"I'd hardly call me reminding her highness of my request a fit," He chuckled as he stood just out of reach, which you took notice of. You always did. 

"Why are you standing over there," you asked, your smile slipping, "I won't bite." 

He gave you an easy smile, soaking in your attention, basking in it. 

It wasn't that you never gave it to him or that you were stingy with it. In fact, it was quite the opposite. You were always speaking with him. He accompanied you everywhere you went, so why wouldn't you? What kind of queen would you be if you didn't speak with your personal knight at all while he protected you? 

You two had grown close over the years, your relationship becoming more of one between friends rather than one of subordinate and superior. And James didn't mind one bit. He'd never tell anyone, for risk of being reassigned away from you, but he loved you. 

He was in love with you. 

He had been for years and it was one of the many reasons that he was so persistent about protecting you, even when you told him to get some rest - he'd just sit on the floor outside your chamber doors those nights. You started having Steve switch with him at night so he could sleep too, but he'd only sleep for a handful of hours and get washed up before coming back to switch again. 

You held your hand out to him, waiting for his gloved fingers to gently grasp yours. He did so, but at the expense of the tug in his chest. 

In all his years of serving you, he'd never touched you. He always made sure something was between the two of you, his gloves, your fur coat, something. 

It wasn't that he didn't want to touch you, he was actually dying to do so. He dreamed of the day that he could feel your skin against his, but he didn't want to taint your perfectly smooth complexion with his dirtied callouses. You deserved someone with a softer touch than his own. You deserved someone's hands who hadn't been covered in blood and dirt and grime and sin. 

He let you guide him to stand next to you, waiting for you to drop his hand, but you continued to hold on to it, absently fiddling with the leather covering his skin. God, what he wouldn't do to be able to actually hold your hand. To brush elbows. To feel your fingers on his arm as he led you around town. 

"Jamie?" He glanced up from your fingers to see you staring at the still water of the pond. 

"Yes, your highness?" 

It was a moment before you responded, but you didn't look over at him. Instead, you gazed down at the stone under your fingertips, scratching your nail along its surface - something he knew you did when you were nervous. 

"Do you think they're right?" If he hadn't been waiting with baited breath, he would've missed the question with how quiet you were. He figured you didn't want anyone else hearing your conversation so he dipped his head lower towards your ear. 

"What about?" 

"About me," You glanced up at him then, causing his heart to almost leap out of his chest. He'd never been close like this. Close enough to speak in hushed tones, sure, but never enough to see the details in your irises, the individual lashes that brushed against your cheeks when you blinked. "Do you agree that I'm some - some mad woman to not be married? To not have a husband to do the ruling while I give him heirs?" 

"Well," he started, testing the waters and giving your fingers a gentle squeeze, "I guess that depends on why you have yet to wed someone." 

You were silent at that as you refused to look away, but you squoze his fingers back, gripping his hand as you pulled it closer to you. 

He wanted to pull away from you, surely this close proximity would bring more talk about you to the other royals. Someone of your standing shouldn't be this close to him, holding his hand, noses almost touching. 

Yet, here you were. 

"I fear someone may already have my heart," You stated, glancing between his eyes. A pit formed in his chest and he had to ignore the ache as he steadied his breathing. 

Of course you had your eye on someone. With as many potential suitors as you had, how could you not already have a certain person in mind? But that left the question - why hadn't you wed them yet? Surely, whoever had caught your eye would be pleased to wed you. Who wouldn't was the better question. 

"Why haven't you wed them yet, your grace?" He gruffly asked, swallowing down the sudden surge of emotion in his throat. He was your personal knight - he couldn't let something like this break him down. Especially when you were not within your own palace walls. He had to remain calm and collected, at least until you retired for the evening. Then he could let the cracks spread until morning. 

You tipped your head down to look at his chest as you placed your free hand over the armor there, your nails gently tapping against the metal. "That's a sensitive conversation that shouldn't be held outside of our home walls, don't you think?" 

You looked back up at him, almost craning your neck with your proximity. He nodded, dazed at how your voice sounded when you said 'our home.' It wasn't the first time you'd referred to it like that, you did both live there. But there was something about the way your voice lightened when you said it. Like it was lifting a weight off your chest saying you wanted to tell him your secret. And though he may not be ready to hear who'd stolen your affections, a sense of pride filled him. You trusted him enough to tell him this secret of yours. 

And even if he wasn't ready to hear it, he'd protect that secret with his life if need be. Because it'd be for you.

He nodded, muttering a word of agreement and you smiled, but it lingered longer than usual. The corners of your mouth stayed lifted as you pried your gaze from his and released his hand, turning back to the path. You took a couple steps away before looking back over your shoulder at him, your smile ever-present. 

"Let us go home, shall we?" You asked. 

He shoved his nerves down as far as they'd go, steeling himself in preparation for your secret, and nodded once.

"Yes, your grace." He stepped away from the pond to follow you to the waiting carriage. 

He knew the time would come when you'd find a proper suitor, he couldn't expect you to stay unwed forever. 

He just didn't expect it to hurt as much as it did.

[smellss]

Nudged - Sam kerr x singer!reader social media au!

summary: social media subtly is harder for some than others

notes: credit @chaosology @si’ve been obsessing over these and thought i’d try it for myself!

please let me know if you’d like to see a part two!

Part Two | Part Three

liked by taylorswift, florencepugh, y/ngirlfriendfr and 240,870

y/noffical: Can't wait to look out to the crowd and see my beloved green and gold, I'll be home soon mum 💚💛

viewallcomments

taylorswift: can't wait to be down under with you 🖤

tayschaibiccy: reputation 👀 (Taylor's version) (down under edition)

masiepeters: go girl go!

matildas: loving the green and gold ✨

y/nsmummy: matildas social media slaying as always

baby/n: mother is arriving home!!!!!

floscrockpot: Ill wonder if she'll be bringing home other mother?

baby/n: idk they haven’t posted together for a while i hope everything is okay

dailymail: we'll we've got a story for you 👀

liked by gossipgirl206, msmarypeep and 40,789

dailymail: wlw power couple Y/n L/n and Florence Pugh have supposedly been broken up for over a year! Close source says the 5 year relationship ended amicably but both women did not want to create a scandal wave of drama and decided to keep it quiet. It’s even been noted Flo is in a new relationship with co-star Cillian Murphy, whilst Y/n is keeping things let’s just say down under… 👀

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y/nsmummy: we’ll i don’t believe in love anymore 🔪🔥

floscrockpot: i knew y/n wasn’t good enough for flo!

taylorschaibiccy: ma’am people like you are the reason they didn’t post it and make it public smh

baby/n: mmm i smell something going on here…

goodwitchymas: wait they were dating!

liked by masiepeters, matildas, skeggs and 610,780

y/noffical: perth night 1 ✨ never been so grateful to be back in this beautiful place.

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masiepeters: my girls all grown up 🥺

y/nsmummy: I REPEAT SHES BACK I REPEAT

matildas: thank you for having us queen 💛💚

y/noffical: i hope you ladies enjoyed the show ❤️

baby/n: huh

hugmetightly/n: no because this is interesting

liked by baby/n, kerrsboot, tilliescup and 27,608

captainkerrupdates: Sam Kerr and the rest of the tillies spotted taking a break watching another Australian icon Y/n L/n’s concert last night in Perth.

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kerrsboot: how very interesting

baby/n: oh yes i do agree

sammy123: odd sam is not a very big pop fan…

y/nmummy: something tells me sam isn’t going for the music

liked by samanthakerr20, alannahkennedy and 240,800

optusstadium: Our Matilda’s warm up session this morning good to see a lot of smiles on our nations gems 💚 #FWWC23

viewallcomments

samanthakerr20: thank you for having us 💛

haleyrusso: ❤️

kerrsboot: what songs do our tillies listen to while warming up??

alannahkenndey: strawberry kisses of course

samanthakerr20: nonsense by y/n l/n 🔥

baby/n: uh sorry excuse me pardon what.

captainkerrupdates: 📸 📸📸

mackenziearnold: oh sammy

liked by samanthakerr20, baby/n and 80,890

y/nultimategossiper: Y/n’s interview with Vogue Aus today talking about her favourite sport and the Matilda’s.

mummy/n: they are so dating are you kidding me

kerrsboot: they could just be friends

sammy123: either way it’s nice to see two icons supporting each other

mummy/n: sam liked this post

kerrsboot: damn i stand corrected somethings definitely going on

samanthakerr20 started following y/noffical

y/noffical started following samanthakerr20

[holly-the-trash-writer]

Spencer Reid x Famous!Reader

Synopsis: After your home is broken into by a stalker, your bf cheats, the FBI is called, and a new romance begins to take over.

Told through Instagram posts.

TW for mentions of stalkers

Part 1. Part 2.

yourinstagram

Liked by zendaya, pgarcia and 67,927,726 others

yourinstagram 🖤🤍 NYC I love you so much

View all 20,716 comments

rarebeauty 😍😍

dovecameron You are the most beautiful human

Liked by yourinstagram

tchalamet A devine being 💫

florencepugh ❤️❤️❤️

y/n.is.queen I MISSED YOUR SMILE!

woketh.teen She looks so happy to be back on stage

and.what. The crowd went CRAZAY. The energy was unbelievable! So happy I was there!!!!!!

y/n.gossip That group hug tho 🥹

Comments on this post have been limited

yourname.stan

Liked by 6,531 others

yourname.stan SHE'S BACK! 😭😭😭😭

View all 382 comments

kiki.kiwi The way they all held hands at the start of the show killed me. I cried so much.

nerdymcnerd No. But I swear I saw that FBI agent dancing to her songs!!!

dracoandme PICS WHERE?!?!?!

y/ns.army I need to see this!!!

onabreak The romance is BLOOMING

pgarcia @theemilyprentis 👀

y/n.updates

Liked by y/nnnn, d.morgan and 5,927 others

y/n.updates YOU GUYS!!! Y/N JUST POSTED THIS ON HER IG STORY THIS MORNING 😍😍

Story reads "☀️Sunshine☀️ and Road tripping with my new friend. Meet Spencer."

View all 1,826 comments

sasha.mac She is a Goddess!! A Queen!! 👑

gucci.goddess He legit looks like a Spencer 🤣

fanfic.reader I smell romance in the air 💕💕

jd.dj He's her FBI body guard. Stop.

ooh.bratz Can he be mine next😭😍

bye-felicia THOSE HANDS 🤩

carter.nation Took no time did she 🤣

_isla Matt literally cheated on her. You can't say shit.

bubbles It's sad she can't just be her own person and be single. You don't need a man girl. Chill.

lame-o She can do what she wants??

celebgossip

Liked by user82 and 9,952 others

celebgossip During Y/n's show tonight, her third show back since her temporary shock hiatus, the star broke down in tears while singing Almost is Never Enough. During which the crowd came together and sang the rest of the song for her.

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itsmemario She must be feeling so much pain right now but I hope she feels comforted by her fans being there for her

y/ns.army I watched the video and when she sang So close to being in love. Her voice cracked and she tried to power through but she just broke down 💔💔

keyboardwarrior Why did she come back if she was just gonna cry for 90% of her show? Waste of money. Waste of time. Get yourself sorted and then come back.

ryanslife Your mum must be proud.

gigglegiraffe She's allowed to have feelings?

hater482 Exactly. Imagine going to a concert and they're just crying. Just don't sing that song?

daydreamer She sings love songs dipshit

y/nfan I just want to hug her so bad 😭

y/nupdates

Liked by y/nismother and 2,826 others

y/nupdates Y/n posted these to her story 10mins ago!! She's spoiling us. She's writing new songs. Going out. And having fun with her FBI agent Spencer.

y/nfan WHOOOOOS BUYING HER FLOWERS?!

bi.bi.bi Herself?

freakygirl Imagine if it was the stalker?!

queenie.me Doubt it. They probably check her mail and shid.

spillthetea Maybe Spencer? 👀

enews

Liked by teaspill and 29,8364 others

enews BREAKING‼️ Dash cam footage was leaked today showing FBI agents arresting a man outside Y/n's New York apartment.

We've reached out to the BAU team and Y/n's management for comment.

y/n.updates OMG THEY GOT HIM!!!

bi.bianca Thank GOD!!! She can breathe now 😭

queenie.me Those agents saved her GOD damn life. 😭

y/nnnnn I'm so happy rn. She's safe ❤️

imdreaming Sending so many prayers to her 🙏🏼

vampdiary Spencer I'd HAWT ngl

thirstay Girl literally!!!

freeshavocadoo The way he swerved him too. That agent got rizz.

yourinstagram

Liked by tomholland13 and 1,837,937 others

yourinstagram the light inside my universe now

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Private Account

dr.s.reid

Liked by emilyprentiss, yourinstagram and 12 others

dr.s.reid 🩷

p.garcia The CUTEST 😭🥰 so glad it's Official!!!

dr.s.reid She is and so am I.

emilyprentiss @p.garcia I told you!!

p.garcia I just couldn't believe!!

derekmorgan Pretty Boy got gameee

jen.jarau Spence I'm so happy for you!!