#it seemed to still be bothering him on stream i felt so bad | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

corollaservant · 5 months ago

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Introspect // Dabi x f!reader (18+)

Synopsis: The past never dies. But it can often be forgotten. (3.4k)

Warnings: yandere/obsessive behavior, captivity, stalking, violence, noncon/dubcon, jealousy, delusion, denial, implied PTSD, deterministic and nihilistic philosophical paradigm, Dabi's POV—stream of consciousness type fic

A/N: wrote this in 3hrs. majorly inspired by (and dedicated to) my fave tumblr writer, new magic wand by tyler the creator and this dabi art 🖤

Happy. You looked happy, that’s what he thought when he saw it.

Not in a way you’d been with him anyway. He didn’t know whether that was for the better. The first thing he thought was you posted him. Of course you would. He was not patched, burnt or looking like someone who escaped the psychiatric ward. Without proper clothing, jumping out of a window, frantically running towards the opposite direction. Was it a matter of appearance? Or did you just not like him enough? He wouldn’t know, you hadn’t spoken in a month. And some days. That’s when you told him you needed space. Seriously, people needed to come up with better excuses, this one was over-saturated. Was it bad he clung onto you? It’s not like you had many friends, all he had asked was more of your time. Your stupid job wasn’t even that important—he never bothered finding out what you did exactly, it’s not like he didn’t care, he just wanted you there. The rest of your whereabouts were none of his business as long as you were not conversing (excessively) with anyone else. Because even then, why would you need to do that? He could do it for you.

He had no actual job, well, classifying as a villain doesn’t get you far in life, he called himself a freelancer. Freelancer in murder and theft, maybe. But he felt like he had a share in serving divine justice. A modern vigilante so to say. Any accidental death was a misfortune, a predetermined fate. He didn’t want to pretend to be integrated in society for you to like him, he was lucky because he didn’t have to. Which then reminded him of how he met you.

Petting strays at night wasn’t careful of you, especially with the crime rates in the city. But you had done so regardless, he remembers it vividly: You in an alley, on your knees, not caring about the dirt coming in direct contact, extending your hand. The cat was barely visible, he could only make out its yellow eyes. But then, the cat saw him, he knew cats had brilliant vision and it left you, perhaps in thought he had food you didn’t. You turned your head only to take a step back. Not smart, you landed on your ass as you opened your mouth. Did he scare you? Of course, what a stupid thing to ask. Under other circumstances he’d leave. Making fun of strangers wasn’t really his thing, not unless they deserved it, but the cat seemed to take a liking to him. Animals loved him, his mom used to tell him not to trust people who repelled them, it was a bad sign. Animals had instinct, animals could tell. He decided to pet the little guy (or girl?), as he kneeled down and softly touched its head. That was another thing about cats. They didn’t give a fuck about the staples or burnt odor, they just wanted food and the occasional touch. He liked cats. He could see himself in them. Something in the domesticity of the situation must've calmed you down because you fixed your posture and to his surprise approached him. It was still dark, you were still a woman and alone in an alley.

‘’He likes you.’’ You told him. Had you already figured out it was a male stray? Dabi must’ve underestimated you. Your voice hid a whine, a soft protest but it was not annoyance and he shifted his gaze.

‘’Yeah.’’ was all he said.

‘’Can I?’’ You asked. Why were you asking for permission, this wasn’t even his cat.

‘’Sure.’’

You were so close, trying not to scare the cat and also touch him, he noticed. Your finger tried to avoid his but the cat’s head was unfortunately not that big so you eventually grazed a digit over him. You hadn’t flinched back then, hadn’t even scrunched your nose, were you not afraid? Didn’t the smell and appearance repel you? Apparently not, you seemed so invested in getting the cat to like you. It wasn’t like it didn’t. The stray ended up loving you, purring at your touch and looking in your eyes, like a man in love. And maybe it wasn’t just the cat.

Within three days of your first encounter he had you on his chest, in your apartment of course, where else could he have you? He wanted to fuck you the first time he saw you, but the urge wasn’t that violent, which had taken him by suprise. You also did not seem like the type to give it up easily. He’d have to do some mental jumping jacks to get you, he didn’t worry about revealing too much though; he didn't have a lot to say, his old identity long buried away with his sensitivity. He still didn’t feel like hurting you. The first night he told you his name, Dabi, and it was so convincing, he too had believed it. You exchanged trivial information neither cared about and he offered company on your way back. He scolded you for being alone in the neighborhood, like some good samaritan, he laughed as he guided you through dimly lit alleys with zero traffic.

‘’Want to come inside?’’ You had asked. Already? Were you that easy? But who was he to say no?

Your place was small, as expected, neat and tidy, with a few clothes on the bed, nothing bad. It smelled nice too, he noticed a small plant on the coffee table. How gullible to let him in like that. Dabi imagined how many times you must’ve been wronged in life. But you being you—it was probably something that flew over your head daily. You’d call it compromise, he’d call it stupidity.

He had fucked you in missionary that night, a true gentleman, easing his way inside and slightly towering, making sure the stapled skin under his sternum didn’t touch your sensitive one. You were soaking by the time you stopped making out and he slid a finger inside, warm and enticing, his cock hardened in primal ways. He had softly thrown you on your bed (his definition of soft wasn’t exactly soft, you had let out a groan, was it bad?) and climbed on top. You were looking at him expectantly, your eyes glassy, was that pain or excitement, Dabi would bet bucks on the latter. The way you had shyly parted your legs, not for his cock, but to fit him in between was sickeningly pretty, he could swear he was almost…nervous to slip his cock inside. And he was right, trying to fit it inside failed him two or three times while he pretended to toy your clit with his cockhead. You didn’t seem to mind, his act must’ve been convincing, you were softly moaning and your eyes dared to look at the sight of his swollen tip against your lower lips, was it pretty? He had fucked you as hard as he would allow himself—your body could take it, he had to be honest, the more he stuffed you, the more he needed to drive his cock further into your soft walls, there was no room for play pretend romance here. But you seemed to like it too, wrapping your arms around the bare part of his back, fingers accidentally trailing the stapled skin and groaning near his face. ‘’Fuck.. right there.. D-Dabi! More!’’ More? Sure, you could have more. A patched arm strongly pinned a leg above your head, touching the bed frame, as his stiff and pained cock violated your cunt, he could feel how deep he was and constantly fought the urge to spill already. As for you? Tears from your eyes fell down your now stained sheets as you screamed. Pleasure, pain, honestly he didn’t care much about what it was, your pussy clamping down on him the last thing he felt before he bit down your neck, almost ripping out the skin tissue. His cum slowly trickled out, while both of you panted, each exhale synchronizing with the clock ticking in the kitchen.

There were no voids you could fill, he knew it, interacting with others proved to be a daily reminder. But there were voids you soothed, pain you healed just with your head resting where a heart used to be. Heart beating irregularly, like his feet in his childhood, with excitement, with a different type of eagerness. These weren’t thoughts he made that night and that’s how he knew he liked you. That night his mind was blank for the very first time, carefree from reality, from the ugliness of living—you had sex with some stained villain, who hadn’t only stained your cunt, but your sheets too, your morals indirectly and heart along the way. These thoughts came to him when he saw the photo. Space. You said you needed space. There wasn’t any relationship established, what the fuck you needed space for? Because now he had found something to give waking up a reason. Someone to regularly satisfy his cock with, someone to take away his thoughts and halt his aimless wandering. And you needed space. How lame. You know what? He could give you space. Indirectly of course. He’d still follow you around, check the whereabouts and conversations, sit outside your house and watch you get undressed. But you looked happy. And he couldn’t decipher in what way. Was he a friend? Who gives a fuck about the guy anyway, why were you smiling like that? You never posted him, that's for sure, you knew in the three months of irregular hanging out (to call it dating would be a joke) that he hated it. And so you never did, even though he wanted you to deep down. Something small. A grocery store visit, one you made when he said he’d cook dinner (he had burnt it). But you never did and now here you are posting with someone irrelevant.

Murder wasn’t the answer. Stupidly enough it was always associated with morality. But you’d think Dabi would have none of that. He thought murder was stupid. No second of his time ought to be wasted for the next guy. Though he had to admit, he often contemplated whether you’d want this. You didn’t know shit about him. But a sudden murder would definitely have you crawling for protection. And who better than the one who committed it? He honestly wouldn’t go out of his way to do all that. He wanted you organically. It had been a long time since he wanted someone. But you sufficed. You were enough. You never asked, never complained, not even when you’d come home from work, exhausted and dirty and he was waiting at your door. Not even when you were shoved against the cupboards and fucked without remorse—you still wrapped your legs around him and whimpered on his neck. And fuck if that didn’t feel good. He hugged you in your sleep. You’d both sleep in opposite directions, you first of course, so you’d never notice he switched sides and brought a leg over yours, resting his head on your throat, feeling each breath, each pulse. You’d wake up confused at the position, he’d say he didn’t remember. These were the few nights he could reach REM state. No vivid dreams of course, a shipwreck maybe and some elevator descending, lack of control or whatever bullshit he read once. He could still dream though, a miserable reminder he was still human.

He was always mean. The world didn’t care to mold someone into being nice. What would that even be? He thought nice meant exchange. Be nice and you’d get a pair of shoes. Act nice and you’ll get to watch TV. Treat others with respect and you’d be the family’s topic of discussion over Christmas. Sure, there were selfless people, he wasn’t crazy to think there weren’t a few of them left. You’d be his prime example. And you weren’t even stupid. But your willingness to help and give bordered exploitation. It hit him like lightning. You needed to get away, the real world was doing damage to people like you. If you were with him, you wouldn't have to think twice about being taken advantage of. He’d still be mean, you wouldn’t change that. But at least you’d sleep assured knowing that he’d never, ever demand something from you. Well…besides your presence, though he’d take you as you are, so in retrospect you’d come to appreciate him for the service.

When he came to pick you up (abduct sounded rough—you’d also want this eventually) you had just finished work. To others you seemed fine, to him you looked exhausted. No need for mask, no need for clothes, he had everything arranged. You hadn’t objected much, he tried the kind approach first, he had only asked you to go for a ride with him in a car he stole, something you’d never know. The place was a dump, a couch covered in dust and a rusty kitchen, but you’d both make it work. It wasn’t like he couldn’t find money. He would, eventually. He remembers the way your eyes widened, what were you expecting, a trip to the countryside for some mimosas? You should’ve known better. ‘’What are we doing here?’’ You had asked, looking him in the eyes, you seemed frightened like the first time you saw him in the alley, it all ends in the beginning of the cycle, such a paradox, he thought. ‘’This is our new place.’’ He cooed as he approached you, you took a step back. There really was no reason for you to be scared, you’d grow to understand the only thing scaring you would be losing him.

He had tried to kiss you but you protested, pushing him away, a shame really and he wanted to continue with the nice approach. Well then again nice didn’t really exist so it wouldn't have worked anyway. He kissed you, your mouth was closed but not for long before it was forced open, arms snaking around your waist and pinning you to a wall collecting condensation since god knows when. He was on your neck, kissing, biting, frenzied moves really, he needed you more than he needed whatever kept him alive. Three months ago, he stopped thinking. Now, the only thing he thought was you. He dragged you to the dusty sofa, he thought of using his quirk to burn the fabric, but ripping it out came naturally. You were laid out naked and shivering, his hands grabbed your waist—was this warm enough for you? You whispered something, maybe it was louder than a whisper, stop or whatever but he couldn’t listen. He found your cunt immediately, he was almost drooling at the sight, when was he that hungry ever again? Something about your life. People behind. You said something, he didn’t listen. You weren’t that wet like the first time, he understood. Women, they need emotional connection. Maybe a sloppier kiss to get them going. He found your mouth again, forcing you to kiss him back while he gorged on yours, a small movement in your hips, a pad of his finger back on your cunt. Wetter, perfect. He slid up a finger, curling it while his thumb grazed over your clit, you whimpered. That was a sound he could finally register. He’d bring back that smile, but it’d be for him only. One finger turned to two and eventually three, he needed to stretch you out to take him, nothing had changed since the first time, just his eagerness. His cock throbbed in his black pants, he wanted to taste you.

You moaned and attempted to touch his hair. He didn’t mind but this wasn’t the time. He moved his head lower, spreading your thighs open and spitting on your clit. Spittle dripped down your slit and his index finger trailed it along the entrance, earning him a moan. See, you already enjoyed this too much. This would be your life now on, he’d fuck you till you wouldn’t want another thing. Captivity had a good side after all. He’d treat you so well, he wouldn’t even have to force all that domestic bullshit on you. You’d do it willingly. He eats your cunt out like it's the most sacred meal, sloppily and without coordination, pushing his tongue inside and gripping your thighs forcefully and what is this? You buck your hips up, wanting more, needy little slut. Perfect, so perfect for making him stop thinking. Making him forget. His cock must leak precum, it feels uncomfortable and he wants you to coat his tongue, he really does, but please understand, he needs you. Now. To bother removing his pants fully would be hilarious, he has neither time nor desire to do so, they’re slid down half way, his cock jumps on his abdomen and he gives it an impatient stroke—looking at you always. Let me go. You say, what? Were you stupid? Right before the best part? Right before the start of a new life? Of a life you should be living years ago? Delusional, you’re delusional. ‘’You love me, baby.’’ He tells you and lets his cockhead slip in your entrance, bit by bit until he’s bottomed out and you wince, he doesn’t move just for a second, this should be enough and then starts thrusting without consideration. Like it’s an incentive, like you’re a hole that needs filling, a mere means to an end. You protest a bit more, if you get louder he might have to get violent on you, please understand he doesn’t want this. You’ll get it, eventually. He can’t decipher the look on your face, it certainly doesn’t scream happy like in the photo.

And then he’s reminded of the photo and a rage is born. ‘’Did he fuck you this good?’’ He spears his cock inside, you are hitting against the arm of the couch, your mouth contracts and you dampen his cock, so he must be doing something right. ‘’Tell me, did he fuck this cunt?’’ He asks and you just moan—are you dumb? Why aren’t you answering? His arms envelop your throat, pressing on the carotid artery as your muffled moans get even more constricted, he spits on your face and demands an answer. Dirty. Slut. Dirty. ‘’N-o’’ comes out your mouth. He hadn’t tainted you? He hadn’t touched you. ‘’I’m sorry.’’ He wipes the saliva off your cheeks, it’s so...wet? Are you crying? Why are you crying? He hates it. ‘’I’m sorry.’’ He kisses you while he plunges deeper, you groan and try to avoid him, stop doing this, you’re his now, it’s final. ‘’I’ll make you feel better, alright?’’ He breathes out, he knows you like his fingers, he knows. His thumb circles achingly, longingly even on your puffy clit while you clench around him, your breathing is labored, you have to cum—cum now! On his cock, show him how much you love him. A few more strokes and he has you clamping down, more tears, so many tears and you moan out his fake name, with anger maybe or an orgasm high, he can’t tell and he doesn’t care either, it’s enough. He needs to steal a kiss one last time and feel the way you squeeze and soak all around to let his load paint you white, maybe he is like a woman after all, longing for emotion, even when he has to fulfill plain instincts. You don’t talk after it, you don’t even blink, you aren’t passed out, are you? He wasn’t that hard, come on now. He has to remove himself, clean you up, the couch and he the least of his priorities. You need to get accustomed. You’ll love it.

You never ask. About the photo. About your family. About anything prior. But that’s not something he dwells upon, he doesn’t like to look back. You still sleep next to him, well, there aren’t many other options available, yet you do. You still breathe softly in your sleep, he still hugs you from behind. You’ve become a sedative, a very much needed one. He dreams some days, an elevator falling, a shipwreck. Only, you’re there this time.

The few days he remembers the dream, he appreciates the company. He can only hope you do, too.

#yandere mha #yandere dabi #yandere dabi x reader #dabi x reader #dabi smut #mha x reader #yandere touya x reader #dark content #my hero academia #mha imagines #todoroki touya x reader #bnha x reader #mha smut #tw noncon #tw delusion #tw violence

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whitehotforeva · 7 months ago

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taken - coriolanus snow

summary - you drank a little and the next thing you know is that you wake up dazed and confused, captured and handcuffed by none other than coriolanus snow. the peacekeeper who was ready to claim you now.

warnings - 18+, NON-CON, stalking/abduction, degradation, victim blaming, smut.

word count - 3,132

a/n - okay this is pure filth. i was just thinking of peacekeeper coryo and just how rough and unhinged he is and yeah <3 this is my second fic so i am very sorry if its bad and if there’s any errors. but anyways enjoy <3

your eyes fluttered open tiredly as a overwhelming pounding took over your head. you blinked a few times, brows furrowing as you still saw black. as you regained consciousness, you felt the sensation of a tight fabric wrapped across your eyes. a confused sound left your lips as you attempted to touch your face but you whimpered out as your wrists clanged, feeling tight as you realised that they were tied too.

what the fuck?

you roughly yanked your arms away, attempting to free your wrists and groaned out loud as the repetitive clanging sound filled your ears, growing more aggressive and aggressive as you tried to pull the cuffs away from whatever pole they were attached too. panicked breaths left your lips as you grew hot. your head pounded as tears filled your visionless eyes as you desperately tried to piece together what had led you here. you couldn’t remember anything prior to this.

you flailed your arms again, tears streaming down your face as you began to sob out for help, and the pounding in your heart intensified as you felt the sound of heavy footsteps walking towards you.

“please help!” you exclaimed out before flinching as you felt a touch, pulling off your blindfold to reveal what was in front of you.

your eyes squinted, you tried to blink away your tears to clear your vision as you furrowed your brows in an attempt to make out the figure in front of you.

your heart dropped.

standing firm with a smug grin on his face, a peacekeeper you had seen around a few times was stood ahead of you.

coriolanus snow.

“what?” you whispered out as you tried to make sense. you were unnerved by the glint in his cold orbs. you couldn’t make out what it was and you felt sick.

“please help me.” you croaked out with a pleading look to him. he was a peacekeeper. he was here to help you, right? to help you make sense of this situation? to save you?

it was a peacekeepers job to keep people safe. to keep things in order. he would help you figure how you got into this mess and who put you into it.

he simply raised a brow, an amused look on his face as he dropped the blindfold from his hands to the floor.

“you want me to help you.” he drawled out, his eyes taking you in, in a way that had the goosebumps on your skin sticking up. he relished in the sight of the way that your dress had been riding up from your aggressive movements, something you hadn’t really noticed until you saw how his gaze was locked onto your bare thighs.

you felt slightly embarrassed, but that wasn’t important right now. you needed his help. you desperately nodded to him, a whimper leaving your lips that had his pants tightening.

coriolanus snow. him and sejanus were the two peacekeepers that you felt more comfortable with being around. whilst you didn’t exactly know them, you knew that they were more respectful and politer than their peers, from all your interactions you had with them in passing, sejanus in particular. he would always offer a warm smile and even offer to walk you home in the evening from your shift at the bakery, something you’d always politely decline as you’d make your way back to the comfort of your home.

but coriolanus? he seemed respectful and polite too, however he was more reserved than his friend. you didn’t really understand what it was, but whatever it was, you didn’t bother dwelling. you didn’t really know him and that was that. now it was time for you to.

“please. i-i don’t know why i’m here. i don’t know what happened i don’t remember.” you rushed out as more tears streamed down your face as you tugged at your arms again, the clanking sound filling up the room.

“you’re here.” he spoke, taking a step towards as he unbuckled his belt.

“for me.” he made his way to the bed you were laid out on, sitting down as his strong hands pushed your legs apart , gripping them as you instinctively tried to close them, panicking more.

“to use you.” he finished out as you let out a cry, unsure on what he was even doing as his hands roughly made their way up to your inner thighs as you squirmed your body, crying out. you felt his digits wrap around the waistband of your panties as he pulled them down and off your legs whilst you tried to thrash them.

a loud slap echoed throughout the room, and you whimpered through your tears as your blurry vision made out some redness onto your thigh.

you couldn’t even process his words, only the act of him pulling down your panties. your head throbbed and fear travelled down to your stomach as your scared doe eyes looked up at him.

“p-please! i don’t understand.” you sobbed out, the sight of him taking off his trousers and boxers making the pit of dread in your body even bigger, your eyes widening as he became bare. you didn’t want to face it.

your face reddened and you scrunched your eyes shut. you had never seen that before. you had never seen a man like that before. it felt shameful to open your eyes, despite the situation you were put in.

you had heard of sleazy peacekeepers harassing some of the girls in the district, taking advantage of them after they drunk a little too much at the hob, but you had never ever expected to be tied up, almost hyperventilating as coriolanus snow stood in front of you in all his glory.

you didn’t know how he could rape you. you didn’t know if he could fit. you had never done this before. your heart rate erupted as your sobs filled the room.

he simply chuckled as you closed your eyes, enjoying your naivety. it had the blood rushing to the head of his cock, how devastated you were in front of him. how naive and stupid you were. a part of him wanted to slap you, to teach you a lesson.

didn’t you know that silly little girls weren’t supposed to drink moonshine then stumble back home all on their own?

you should be grateful, he thought. that he had you here and not any of the other perverted peacekeepers. his breathing became heavy as he grew angry at the thought of anyone else having you like this.

you were lucky.

coriolanus snow knew from the moments his blues had locked onto you, that you’d be his. he first had seen you at the hanging tree, your head lowered in the crowd as you looked away, tears brimming in your eyes as you cringed at the sound of the mockingjays echoing screams. he lazily followed you from a distance with sejanus as they patrolled, thankfully in the direction you were heading in.

he knew where your home was and had slowly began to learn the routes you’d take and things you’d do on the daily. he was captivated by you. your face full of life and summers generosity blessing your skin as he adored the flush and freckles that the sun would bring you. he never would talk to you though. he had a few interactions here and there, simply casual. he couldn’t imagine making you his without first taking you.

without claiming you. without showing you his power. to teach you. you needed to be taught. he needed to show you how dangerous he was. how he’d do anything for you. he needed to take you first, so it would be engraved in your mind forever. something you could never forget.

so it was a stain on a pretty dress of yours that you could never get out.

that way, your thoughts would always belong to him. your mind belonged to him. every part of you belonged to him. he owned you.

he was on the bed now and your eyes flashed open at the feeling of the bed sinking as he climbed over you. you kicked and he instantly gripped down onto your thighs so tightly that you hissed, an amused chuckle leaving his throat.

“c’mon doll. gotta do better than that to stop me.”

you lifted your leg up aggressively out of his grip to kick at him and he simply let out a low whistle, his firm hand pulling your leg down again and now apart.

“don’t make me ruin that pretty face.” he spoke out sternly, his warning sending you shivers as he roughly pulled up your dress even higher so it was bunched up around your hips, exposing your bare pussy.

you blushed brightly, embarrassed. nobody had seen your body like this before and quick breaths escaped your chest as you sunk in what was going to happen, not daring to fight in fear of him hurting you. well, hurting you more.

you never knew he’d be capable of this.

his eyes softened as they glanced up at you again, sighing out as he moved his hand to cup your face.

“shhh. shh. hey don’t cry? okay baby? poor baby.”

his voice feigned sympathy and you couldn’t help but sniffle stupidly as he reassured you.

“please.” you croaked out again.

a wicked grin grew on his lips as one hand stayed stroking your cheek, and the other made its way down to your bare pussy, beginning to gently rub at it as he cooed into your ear.

“shhh. fuck your pussy is wet. you want this baby i know you do.” he tried to speak softly yet there was a hint of amusement in his voice, pride swelling in his chest at the feeling of your wet folds.

you felt shame. little whimpers left your lips as you shook your head, trying to ignore the sensation growing down there in your most intimate parts, but as his fingers began to rub at your small clit, you couldn’t help the gasp that escaped your lips.

his fingers massaged your bundle of nerves faster as involuntary whimper left your mouth that had him sure that his precum dribbling down the tip of his cock.

he laughed out loud, tutting at you as he shook his head, his fingers slowing down as he looked at you with furrowed brows.

“fuck. you really are a slut, huh?”

his fingers resumed their invasion on your most intimate spot. you felt disgusted in yourself and didn’t want to admit it, but the way he rubbed at your clit brought you pleasure in ways that you could never replicate in your own bedroom at night when you’d sneak your hand under the covers and under your nightgown.

he leaned down more to roughly lick at your tears, groaning against your cheek as he did, relishing in the way your slick was coating his long fingers and the sounds you were making. your body was betraying you, it was cruel and it made him harder than he had ever been.

“no no no! please don’t!” you spoke, your voice becoming a pitch higher. you needed him to stop. your climax was approaching and the rush of pleasure alongside with your shame was sitting together in your stomach too disgustingly perfect.

“you want this. you wanted this. look at you. pathetic little girl. you knew what would happen if you walked alone drunk late at night. fuckin stupid baby.”

his words had you shaking your head as you yanked your arms in attempt to get the handcuffs off, but you couldn’t help but stop the arousal flooding from your pussy as a wretched sob left your mouth. little pants increasing in pitch quickly left your soft lips as your faced scrunched up, contorting in pleasure as tears leaked down your face, shaking your head as if that would even help.

as if that would stop you from cumming all over his fingers.

your body shook as you threw your head back, a loud sob leaving your lips as your high hit. your eyes fluttered as pleasure engulfed you, your legs thrashing now as if you could reverse your orgasm hitting you, but you couldn’t. your body shook and coriolanus instantly pumped his hard cock a few times before intruding in your untouched hole, your eyes widening as you were still processing your orgasm, and now the tight feeling of his large member entering your little hole.

you began to thrash your legs, head shaking as the pain of his intrusion in your virgin hole clashed with the high of your orgasm.

“n-no! no!”

coriolanus hissed at how tight you were around him, his long member welcoming the feeling of the warmth of your wet hole. you were wet, but it was nowhere near enough to help the largeness of coriolanus’s cock beginning to ruin you.

he slid himself fully in, ignoring your protests as he simply chuckled down at you, groaning at the feeling of you wrapped around him.

“so fuckin tight. gonna pound your little pussy. gonna ruin you.”

the river that ran down your face didn’t stop streaming. you didn’t know how you were capable of all these tears, but the stinging sensation that filled you as his long cock stretched you out had kept your waterworks going.

the blonde bit down on his lips as he furrowed his brows, slowly pulling out and letting out a low groan as he witnessed a bit of red on his cock.

you were tainted now.

by him.

he slid back in, ignoring your protests as he created a rhythm, a grin growing on his face as it became easier and easier to thrust into you, your body beginning to betray you as you became wet enough to take him.

a loud whine escaped your lips as his cock hit a special spot in you that felt electric, your eyes fluttering at the unknown feeling.

you whined again, feeling your body betray yourself as a part of you wanted more of that sensation.

coriolanus would always give you what you wanted.

his pace became brutal once he noticed the way your eyes fluttered at him hitting your g spot, so he began to pound you, gripping your face tightly as the sound of your whimpers filled the room alongside with the sound of his balls slapping against your ass.

he laughed out, his fiery blues locking down onto your teary orbs.

“can’t even rape a little whore like you. you like it too much. you want this, don’t ya?”

you shook your head roughly, but truth be told, you couldn’t even think right. your mind was hazy as pleasure shot through your body. all you could focus on was the way coriolanus’s cock was so easily pounding your little pussy, the lewd sounds growing louder as your slick coated him.

his hands aggressively pulled at the neckline of your dress, ripping it open to reveal your bare tits as he roughly tweaked your nipples. your face was flushed red as you whined at the sudden sting.

his face was damp too as he continued his relentless assault, his fingers going down to your little button as he rubbed it fast.

you gasped out, lifting your hips and throwing your head back at the overwhelming sensations he was giving you.

“gonna cum baby? cum for me. knew you’d be the perfect whore for me.” he hissed out as he felt his own high coming too. you let out a wretched sob as he hit your special spot again and as he rubbed your clit, something in you exploded and your vision blurred.

you looked so pathetic. it was almost disgusting. the way you whined out loudly as tears spilled out your eyes, your eyes fluttering dumbly as hot pleasure seeped through your veins and ripped through your stomach. wetness coated his cock as he moaned out loudly before spilling his hot cum into your weeping pussy.

you clenched tight around him and he hissed as he groped at your tits, spilling himself in you as he rode out his high with you, pleasure engulfing him as he leaned down to roughly capture your lips into a sloppy passionate kiss. the feeling of his hot cum pouring into you had you whining as you could barely respond to his kiss, your mind spinning as it stopped working.

he pulled away after a few moments and you gasped out for air as you closed your eyes in an attempt to stop your blurry vision.

coriolanus groaned and sucked down on your jaw, littering kisses along it as he then moved down to your neck, smiling against it at the sound of your quick breaths and the way your chest moved up and down.

he pulled out, creating a mental picture of your blood and slick coated all over his cock, and the way his cum dribbled out of your little pussy so perfectly. he’d revisit this memory in his head a million times over. he knew it.

“fuck.” he whispered out as he slipped two fingers back into you, pushing his cum deeper into your hole.

“fucked you dumb didn’t i baby? knew you’d want this. such a pathetic little girl.”

his tone was condescending and disgustingly sweet. you could do nothing but whine out. you felt disgusted in yourself. how could you have done that? how could you have came around his cock?

he leaned down to kiss your hot forehead.

“be grateful it was me, okay?”

he then let out a heavy breath as he left the bed and the room. you took in his words as you dumbly gazed at the lamp illuminating the room.

it was better that it was him, right?

a sob left your lips. of course it wasn’t better. but maybe he wouldn’t have targeted you if he didn’t know how easily you’d give in. how easily your body had betrayed you. didn’t that mean you wanted it? you were lucky that it was him who found you drunk, right? you cringed at the thought of the other peacekeepers. maybe it was good that it was coriolanus, rather than the rough crude men he had worked with.

but wasn’t he that? but wasn’t he worse? his power was a toxin that had now flown through your veins, something addictive that he knew he could control. at least he could give you what your body wanted.

you sniffled, silently cursing yourself. you didn’t even know what you were thinking. you weren’t thinking straight. your body throbbed and your arms ached. everything ached. you wanted to sink and drown. to never reappear again. your entire being needed it.

your eyes felt heavy as exhaustion immediately sank in, slowly fluttering shut as the last sight you saw was a familiar earring sat next to the lamp.

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus smut #coriolanus fanfiction #billy the kid #billy the kid x reader #tom blyth smut #tom blyth #tom blyth x reader #billy the kid smut #smut #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes

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izvmimi · 2 months ago

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cw: minors dni. smut implied but not detailed. you and yuuta are on a working vacation overseas. fem!reader. yuuta and reader are married. a/n: yeah idk. anyway stream risk by victony pls.

You know exactly what you’re doing, and perhaps Yuuta knows too, but he falls in this trap every time anyway - the smooth skin of your bare back exposed as you lay on the beach loungers flat on your belly is like a siren call for him, and he approaches quietly, footsteps naturally soft, and kneels close, pressing his lips softly between your shoulder blades.

“Hey.”

The harsh Equatorial sun has finally abated, and there’s a dry heat around and a hotter, wetter one naturally between the two of you. Yuuta’s returned with grilled suya, butter pear and corn instead of ordering room service and it’s still steaming, posed on the hotel suite’s kitchen table, but he’s more preoccupied by a different meal. You smile to yourself pleased, turning your face towards him as he nips gradually lower, until he's at the skin just above your bathing suit bottoms, and reach out to him before his tongue can loop beneath the flimsy fabric and get too ahead of himself.

“You’re back so soon!”

Your eyes are bright as you meet his gaze. He smiles and takes your outstretched hand, and as you scoot over, rolling onto your back, he finds a seat in the available space, eyes flitting between yours and your exposed breasts.

“I’m pretty resourceful, turns out,” he muses. You nod, pretending to sniff the air dramatically.

“I felt bad sending you out on the streets again, but I don’t think there’s anything you can’t do easily,” you bat your eyelashes, wrapping your arms around his free arm and pulling him towards you. You’re being excessively coquettish but sometimes you feel like he needs it, to know that he’s appreciated for everything he does endlessly for you. Plus today was a rough day - the two of you had just come back from the countryside early in the AM after a particularly bloody exorcism back in a village near your hometown, just as you promised your parents you would, and still haven’t completely adjusted from the jet lag of moving across the globe for this particular excursion. Yuuta, despite his natural dark circles, seemed to be somehow more resistant to the lack of sleep than you were and far too willing to venture out even alone for a meal.

The hotel you’re in is geared towards people who come with currency with far too high exchange rates and you’re taking full advantage of that this week, with plans to lounge on the balcony with the windows open as long as possible, dip in the pool, eat as much street food as you can physically manage until you miss Japanese food again. Most importantly you plan to spend as much time sucking face with your husband as possible.

God knows the two of you have needed a vacation.

Yuuta’s hungry for something and it has nothing to do with dinner. The two of your faces are just inches apart and it doesn’t take long for there to be no space between your breast and his palm, and his leg to find its way between the two of your practically bare ones.

You pretend to barely notice as he plays with your nipple, the obvious want in his eyes louder than whatever he’d say out loud in the next few moments, and continue talking.

“I’m surprised no one’s stopped you carrying that sword all around town.”

Yuuta blows air gently from his nose, amused.

“It’s probably no different from carrying around a cutlass. At best I look like a farmer, at worst a gang member, either way no one’s going to bother me.”

He shifts downwards and soon his mouth is level with the pert nipple he eventually takes in his mouth. You try to stifle a moan, given that you’re still technically outside, even if it’s late, you’re high up enough that likely no one can hear you.

“Not with that sketchy aura of yours,” you tease, but the last part comes out slightly breathless as he bites with gentle pressure. His eyes dart up towards you.

“Sketchy?” he raises an eyebrow, and your stomach flips like an omelet. Before you can say anything to redirect your tone, he’s slipped a finger down that cursed bikini hem and taps at your clit. You shudder, and he takes that as a queue to take his shirt off with his free hand, a move that’s oddly graceful for a generally subdued man.

Yuuta is oddly bold when he wants to be, with the unintentional gravitas of a man who has enough ability that he doesn’t need to prove his worth to anyone.

Letting a leg pass over you so that he’s straddled you on the lounger, he watches you for consent, and the soft anticipatory look in your eyes and the part of your lips say yes for you.

Fingers curl in and out of you until your legs pull into your body and the sounds of your own pleasure are too much to suppress. Shooting straight up before you can let out too embarrassing of a mewl, you gasp out,

“Inside, let’s go inside!”

Your voice is flustered enough that it brings a smile to his cheeks, and he’s quick to carry you into his arms and bring you inside as you please.

A gentle toss on the bed, and the two of you are back at it, your legs wrapping around his, and your bottoms nowhere to be found. You kiss hungrily, among the aroma of spices and the salty breeze of the coast wafting towards the slow swaying curtains, the taste of each other’s lips more intriguing than any overly generous auntie’s meal.

Less exposed to the elements, you cry out freely, your doting man happy to squeeze out as much pleasure from you, hands on your face, chest, hips, thighs… you hold him impossibly close to you, taking each thrust as ministrations, each kiss and exhale as worship.

Your fingers intertwine, your toes curl as he wears you out.

And when it’s all said and done, you’re curled up in bed, legs weary as you feed each other with your hands.

A little bit of bliss. You kiss the salt and oil off his lips and press your nose to his.

“I need to stop making you do all the work,” you joke.

“I think you do enough,” he replies back, sweat glistening on his skin, the flush of his cheeks evident. You run your fingers through his hair, sticky dark locks pushed back and caress his cheek.

“Not just sex, the exorcisms too.”

He tilts his head and you continue.

“You and Rika do all the work, and I just do some prayers and sprinkle some sand,” you joke, your foot sliding down the side of his leg. He lets his hand rest on your thigh.

“Nothing wrong with doing what you can,” he offers, and the sincerity in his voice, like usual, is almost disarming. “Let me take care of you.”

With that he’s taken your hand in his and kisses the back of it.

Your heart flutters, and you wonder if he’s willing to do one more thing for you -

And that’s enthuse you with a round 2.

#yuuta x reader #yuuta okkotsu x reader #daydreams: jjk #mimi's notes #cw food

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unsolved-duvall · 2 years ago

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𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐞 - 𝐞.𝐦. (𝟏𝟖+)

eddie munson x fem!reader

summary you and eddie broke up because you were too scared to love him. so when you need someone and he's the only person you want to run to, what are you supposed to do? (4.8k)

warnings talk of a bad home situation, mentions of abuse, references to mental health, anxiety, crying, very subtle mention of a panic attack, angst i suppose?, fluff, smut, kissing, unprotected sex (don't do this!), lots of feelings. i have probably missed something i'm so sorry <3

The downpour of rain beat down against the windows of your car and was almost loud enough to drown out the myriad of thoughts that were swirling around your mind.

You didn’t know why you were here.

That was a lie, you knew exactly why you were there. It was because this was the only place you could think to go. And Eddie was the only person you felt safe with. Never mind the fact that you had broken up last month. You had been the one to break up with him.

But tonight every emotion you were feeling felt too overwhelming. The sadness and anxiety that you could normally let go of seemed to consume your every thought, washing over you like a wave until they drowned you. Of course, it didn’t help that the only sounds around to drown out your thoughts were those of a not-so-calming nature.

Your mom and her boyfriend had been fighting constantly. Screaming, shouting and harsh words became a sort of white noise in your household. You would listen with your door cracked open in case you needed to call for help. You felt an innate need to protect her, even from herself.

The fighting was so common that it rarely bothered you anymore, but tonight everything had gotten to be too much. It was non-stop, pushing you to the edge and causing you to get in your car and drive over here without thinking twice about it.

And now you were sitting in your car, fiddling with the necklace that hung delicately around your neck, before slipping it back underneath your jumper, letting the ring that hung from it hit your cold skin. And tried to figure out what the fuck you were thinking? What made you think he would even want to see you? You had broken his heart, he had told you that. And those words played on repeat in your head every day, like your own personal form of torture.

Eddie knew you didn’t have a great home life. It was why you practically lived with him and Wayne when you were still together. You had your own drawer full of clothes and your belongings were always dotted through the trailer. A book you were reading thrown on the sofa, your blanket folded over the back of a chair, or your toiletries in the bathroom next to Eddie’s.

You never spoke about the reason you were there so often. You didn’t need to. Eddie knew all too well what it felt like to live in that sort of environment, so you never needed to explain anything to him. When you would turn up at his door at midnight, tears streaming down your face and shaking hands clenched by your sides, he didn’t need you to tell him anything else. He pulled you into him and rested his head against yours and asked what you needed him to do.

You just needed to be with him.

So that became a sort of routine between the two of you. Eddie would wait for you each night, and when you would ultimately turn up in the early hours of the morning, almost no words would be exchanged between the two of you. Instead, you would walk to his bedroom and fall asleep next to him. He understood. He knew you were tired and didn’t feel safe falling asleep in your own home sometimes.

If simply letting you fall asleep curled up next to him was all you needed, he would do it until the end of time.

Until you let the guilt overwhelm you. Eddie deserved better, he didn’t deserve to be in a relationship where he felt like he had to protect you all the time. You could look after yourself, take care of yourself, you had done it for years until you met Eddie. But there was this nagging thought in the back of your mind that you were relying on Eddie too much, and would eventually hurt him in one way or another. The break-up was quick, you barely let him get a word in before you left him standing alone in his bedroom. Confused and heartbroken.

You left so quickly because you didn’t trust yourself not to change your mind if you looked at him any longer.

Which is exactly why you shouldn’t be knocking on his door right now. It was exactly why you should turn around and go home, instead of being in the one place you shouldn’t be. It was-

“Oh- hey,” Eddie stood in front of you, his hair falling in loose curls around his shoulders. He looked tired, unsurprising considering it was almost midnight, but still, it was an unnerving sight. His usual honey-thick smile was nowhere to be seen.

There was uncertainty flickering in his doe eyes. But he didn’t tear his gaze away from you for even a second.

“Hey um- fuck, okay I’m sorry I should-” your voice trembled as you fought to get the words out. The truth was you weren’t entirely sure what you should even say to him.

Do you apologise? Do you tell him what’s going on at home? Do you tell him that you feel like you haven't been able to breathe since you broke up?

You hadn’t realised how long it had been since you’d said anything, but you see Eddie raise his eyebrows, almost hidden behind his hair, and you stumble on your own feet, taking in a shaky breath and opening your mouth to say…something.

But nothing came out. So instead, Eddie said, “Look, why don’t you- shit, at least come inside, it’s too fucking cold to be standing out here.”

You nodded your head and he moved to the side to let you step into the warmth. You felt something heavy settle over your chest, being back here it was… it felt like home. The soft orange hue of the lamps lit up the rooms. The aroma of home-cooked food hit you and you remembered how many times Wayne would make sure there was a spare plate of food set aside for you, in case you turned up.

The TV was playing quietly with the soft murmurs of the dialogue, from the film he had clearly been watching, echoed through the trailer. You were pulled out of your thoughts by Eddie calling you over to the couch where he had already sat down again.

You considered telling him you had made a mistake, but your feet carried you over to him like it was the most natural thing in the world. You sat down on the other end of the couch, pulling your legs up and sitting with them crossed in front of you. Eddie watched your every move, taking in all of your little mannerisms he had missed so much.

“Are you…are you okay? I mean you used to come here if it got- you know if it got bad.” Eddie asked you, his eyes fixed back onto the TV the minute he started speaking to you again; almost as if he was afraid of what he would say if he kept looking at you.

“Yeah, they uh- I don’t fuckin’ know why they do this shit to themselves. They fight all the time, they’ve gotta be miserable.” you tried to sound as casual as you could, but even you could hear the distress your voice carried.

Eddie heard it too and it made his whole body tense up. He still wanted to fix everything for you. He still wanted to pull you into him and tell you everything would be okay.

“Yeah I know sweet-” he cut himself off before he could finish the word, but it made you feel close to tears nonetheless. Even after what had happened, he still immediately wanted to call you that. Fuck.

Eddie cleared his throat before he carried on speaking, clearly thinking over his choice of words. “I know but- you know they’re fully grown adults, you can’t…you have to let them sort their own shit out.”

“That’s my mom, Eddie-”

“I know, shit I know.” You swear you could almost see the way his eyes glazed over as his memories came flooding back to him. You didn’t know everything about his past, but he had told you enough.

“I just worry about her. He’s not a good guy, you know? But I couldn’t stay there tonight, and I know that makes me the worst fucking daughter but-”

“Hey, no. Don’t say shit like that.” his voice was harsher than it had been before, with a kind of authority to it that sent shivers running down your spine.

He still cared about you. Of course, he did. -

“You are not responsible for protecting your parents, that is their job. You are not a bad daughter, you’re a- shit, we’re still kids. We shouldn’t have to deal with all of that, it’s not fair.” you knew he was talking more about himself now, and that made it hurt even more. You being here, the reason you were here, brought up a lot of trauma for Eddie. But he would never outright admit that.

You turned to face Eddie, moving closer to him so your knees scraped his, and leaned against the back of the couch, resting your head on your hand. “Yeah, you’re right.” Eddie fiddled with one of his rings as he listened to you speak. You had to resist the urge to lean over and hold his hand in yours. “It’s not fair. But there’s nothing we can do, so…”

“So…here you are.”

“Here I am.”

There was a beat of silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was just…quiet, and relaxing. There was something unspoken exchanged between both of you. Some mutual understanding that right now wasn’t the time to talk about everything. Even though Eddie had a million questions for you, for now, he was happy enough to have you sit next to him again. Like you had done a million times before.

You leant back again, sinking into the couch cushion beneath you and let your eyes drift back to the TV. Eddie copied you, relaxing into the couch and resting his head against the back of it as you both sat in silence.

After ten minutes or so you couldn’t help but steal glances at Eddie every now and then. The light from the TV lit up his face, and from this close to him you could see the light freckles that dotted across his nose and underneath his eyes. His eyes were almost honey-brown in the orange hue of the room, and you could tell he had only washed his hair a few hours ago. His curls had a soft frizz to them and you missed how they felt between your fingers.

Your gaze moved down to where his hands were resting. You didn’t realise how much you could miss someone's touch. He always used to have one of his hands on you. Whether he was holding your hand, resting it on your leg or letting it run up and down your back as you lay next to him.

Soon enough the film ended and Eddie stood up to sort it out; you watched him and for a second you were sure he was going to ask you to leave.

But then he stood up from where he had been kneeling down next to the TV and sighed before saying, “Come on.”

“What- what are we doing?” you moved to sit up on the couch but didn’t stand up just yet.

Eddie looked around the room for a second as if he was gathering his thoughts before he lifted and dropped his shoulders in contemplation and said, “What we used to do. I’m not letting you go home tonight.”

You hesitated for a moment, “Well I can sleep on- on the couch.”

“If that’s what you want to do then that’s okay. But you don’t have to, you can sleep in my room. No expectations, nothing. I promise.” A subtle rosy flush coloured his cheeks whilst he spoke, and you bit back a smile at how even the mention of it had him nervous.

“No, yeah of course, um well thank- thank you.” You stood up and followed Eddie as he made his way to his room, turning off the lights as he went.

Before you had time to ask Eddie for clothes to sleep in he was handing you one of his t-shirts and a pair of your pyjama shorts you must have left there. “You can get changed in here, I’ll go to the bathroom.”

“Okay, thank you Eddie.” he smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. With Eddie out of the room, you took a second to gather yourself. You felt your heart start to race and your hands shake, a tell-tale sign that you were getting overwhelmed. Only this time you knew it would all be okay because Eddie would be back soon.

You changed into the clothes he had given you and you sat on top of his bed waiting for him to come back. Even though you knew you would be sleeping in his bed tonight it still felt somewhat presumptuous of you to get under the comforter already.

You heard movement from outside his room and sure enough, Eddie walked back through his bedroom door a moment later. He had a pair of boxers on and the same t-shirt he was wearing earlier.

You knew he always sleeps in just his boxers, but you also appreciated he probably left his t-shirt on out of respect.

The truth was you wouldn’t have minded if he didn’t leave it on. Feeling his skin pressed against yours used to ground you when nothing else could. But you supposed things couldn’t be the same anymore. Of course, they couldn’t.

Eddie’s eyes dipped down to your neckline, you weren’t sure what had caught his attention at first, “You still wear it?”

What-

Oh.

The necklace. With his ring on it. He gave it to you after he had developed a habit of slipping his rings onto yours fingers whenever he got the chance. He gave you the necklace and his favourtie ring because then there would “always be a part of him with you.” Which was exactly why you still wore it.

“Oh um- yeah, I do. I’m sorry if that’s strange or…”

“No. No, it’s not weird.” you saw a pained expression paint his face before he smiled and turned around, facing away from you.

“Are you gonna get into bed or?” You could hear his signature smirk even if you couldn’t see him, his back was turned to you as he finished taking his rings off.

“Oh- yeah, okay. ‘M sorry-“

“You need to stop saying sorry, just act normal. This can be normal, right?” Eddie walked over to his bed and threw himself down under the covers, he was all long limbs and curly hair and for a second you didn’t know why the hell you had ever left him.

You weren’t sure what you were supposed to say in response. It felt like he was giving you a chance to explain yourself. To tell him what was going on in your head.

“Yeah this can be normal” was you all could say. Because you did want this to be normal, but you needed to know what Eddie was thinking, so as you lay down next to him and stared up at the ceiling you said, “Do you hate me?”

“Do I- shit, why would I hate you?” you weren’t sure if the disbelief in his voice made you feel better or worse.

“I was an asshole.”

“You broke up with me, that doesn’t make you an asshole, that makes you a person who has her own thoughts and feelings. And makes her own decisions” Eddie’s voice didn’t carry much emotion. It was flat and monotone, and you had never heard him sound like that before.

“That doesn’t mean you aren’t allowed to be… I don’t know- annoyed with me for how I did it.”

“What? You came over, you told me you didn’t want to be in a relationship anymore and you left. What else were you meant to do? A break up’s a break-up.” you couldn’t see his face, both of your expressions shrouded in the darkness of the room.

“I shouldn’t have… I should have explained myself to you, but I was… I wasn’t doing good, you know? And I guess-”

“You fell out of love with me, it’s okay. It happens.”

His words hit you like a punch to the chest and your breath got caught in his throat as you processed his words. Fallen out of love? No. No, you could never fall out of love with him. You loved him too much. You loved him so much it terrified you. A stillness took over the room, and all you could hear was the ruffling of the sheets as Eddie turned over, muttering a reluctant good night under his breath.

You didn’t want to push any boundaries he was clearly putting up between the two of you. You had hurt him and you knew he was only protecting himself. But it killed you nevertheless. You swallowed the lump forming in your throat and blinked back tears. Turning over to fall asleep, in the same bed you had done so many times, except this time you weren’t curled into his side with his arms wrapped around you.

A few hours had passed and although you were trying, you couldn’t let yourself drift off to sleep. You lay in complete silence and let your thoughts ruin any chance of you getting a peaceful night. Eddie was asleep, you thought he was anyway. Just as you had decided to get out of bed and walk to the kitchen for a glass of water, you heard movement beside you.

“Are you okay?” Eddie. His voice was thick with sleep, deeper and rougher than it usually sounded, but a voice you were all too familiar with.

“Yeah ‘m fine.”

“What’s wrong?” Eddie had turned onto his back now, waiting for an answer, and when you didn’ reply he simply said, “you only say you’re fine when you’re so far from it that it scares you.”

“I just can’t sleep, that's all.” you lay back down and hesitated for a moment before whispering, “I never fell out of love with you.”

You felt Eddie still next to you, and you could hear your own heartbeat in your ears and your cheeks heating up.

“Oh.”

“I didn’t want to hurt you. I was so scared that- that we would end up being exactly the same as everyone around us. I couldn’t do that to you, I couldn’t-”

“You still love me?” you could hear the pain that laced his voice as he breathed out the words.

“Yes.”

The words sat heavy between the two of you, the room was still dark, almost pitch black, but a lone streetlamp from outside allowed a slither of orange light to screep through the space between the blinds, allowing you to see Eddie’s face. His eyes cut to yours when he said, “Then why did you do it?”

If your heart wasn’t already in pieces then Eddie had just made sure of it. His voice was soft, as if he was afraid of the answer.

“Because what if we turn into our parents.”

“Oh, sweetheart-”

You were crying. Silent tears that fell down your face, pooled in the corner of your eyes and stained your cheeks with the reminder that you couldn’t trust yourself to love someone in fear of hurting them. Eddie didn’t cry, but that was because he had cried so much after you had ended things with him that he didn’t have the energy left to cry now; although hearing your breath hitch with every tear that fell threatened to send him over that edge with you.

“Come here, it’s okay.” Eddie cooed, and you didn’t waste another second not being in his arms. You stretched out your arms to find his already waiting for you, pulling you into his chest and letting your head rest there, where it used to rest every night.

You let him wrap you in his arms and you let yourself sink into him, throwing a leg over his and nuzzling your face into his chest. He whispered comforting words into the still air and you listened to him, truly believing him when he told you he loved you.

You told him you loved him too.

You lay like that and spoke about everything you needed to until you noticed the sun peeking in through the curtains, replacing the soft orange light of the streetlamps that had graced the room throughout the night. Eddie told you that you should both try and get some sleep, you nodded your head with the little energy you had left and let your eyes drift shut.

You slept knowing you were back where you were always meant to be.

By the time you woke up the room had gone dark again, and you felt a panic surge through you at just how long you must have been asleep for. Eddie was stil there, holding you.

“What time is it?” your voice was raspy, the way it always was when you had just woken up.

“It’s only the afternoon, you’re okay.” Eddie ran his hand over your back and pushed your hair out off your face to look at you.

“Why is it so dark?” you aksed him, perplexed.

“The sun got really bright, you know as the sun does,” you laughed at his words, more so you laughed at how he didn’t even realise what he said was funny. “And you started getting restless, I didn’t know if it was bothering you so I put a blanket over the window and drew the blinds again, so it would be darker.”

He must have pulled you back against him when he got back into bed. “How did you… put a blanket… over the window?”

“Don’t worry about it.” It scared you how sincere he could sound even when he was joking. “I’m magical what can I say.”

“Yeah,” you agreed “you really are.”

Eddie let out a sigh as you moved off of him, laying on your side and staring at him. Eddie mirrored your actions, moving to rest on his side so you were face to face.

“I’m still so sorry about-”

“What will it take to get you to stop apologizing to me?” Eddie asked you, faked annoyance in his voice.

You smiled and your eyes flicked down to his lips. He noticed, the same way he noticed everything. “Can you kiss me?”

“Yeah” he breathed out before he had his hand resting on your cheek and his soft lips pressing onto yours, your bottom lips between both of his. He kissed you like he had never stoped kissing you. He kissed you like it was the one thing he had been put on this earth to do. And you kissed him back like you had something to prove. But mostly you kissed as if you were kissing the life back into each other.

The kiss stayed slow and gentle for as long as either of you could hold out for; but suddenly it all became too much and when Eddie’s tongue ran over your bottom lip you let the dam break and allowed it to consume your entire being.

You kissed like the other could slip away at any moment. Somehow, in between desperate kisses and his tongue running over yours, Eddie had moved to rest above you, his arms caged around either side of your head, holding him up. You let your fingers get tangled in his hair and he let his lips move down to your neck, his head nustled there as he kissed over your most sensitive spot. You already knew your neck would be covered in small reminders of him by the end of this; red and purple love bites marking your neck.

You let him kiss you and touch you and you were sure you would let him do whatever else he wanted. When his hand slipped under your pjyama shorts and you let him touch you, you knew you would have to let him do whatever he wanted later. Because right now you needed to feel him inside of you. You needed to be as close to him as the laws of the universe would grant you.

“Eddie, fuck, please I need you to fuck me.” you had never been paticurally graceful with words, not being blessed with a way of words like Eddie was, but right now that didn’t matter because with Eddie’s lips on your neck and his hands roaming your body there wasn’t a chance in the world of you stringing together a coherent sentence, let alone sounding like Shakespeare.

You felt Eddie‘s lips curl up into a smile against your neck before he pulled away from you, lifing his head to rest his forehead against yours. “You don’t want me to-”

“No. No, please baby I just need you inside me” you didn’t like to beg but with the way his eyes bore into yours you knew you would beg until the end of time if you had to. Not that Eddie would let you do that.

“Okay, okay angel. I’ve got you, gonna give you what you need, huh?” Eddie pressed a chaste kiss to your swollen lips before he pulled away from you again, pulling of his boxers whilst you desperately tried to get your shorts and panties off as quickly as you could, your shaky hands making the tast exponentially more difficult than it should have been. Eddie took over for you, pulling them down your legs and tossing them off somewhere into the darkness of the room.

You pulled him back to you, your hand resting on the back of his neck and kissed him until you felt dizzy, and wrapping your legs around his waist.

“Sweets, I need to get a condom-” Eddie spoke between deep kisses. You knew he was right, but you were on the pill and you hadn’t slep with anyone else since Eddie so…

“No. I need to feel all of you.” you knew your words had taken Eddie by surprise, but by the way his brows knitted together and his hips rolled against yours, you knew he was just as desperate for it as you were.

“Are you sure?” Eddie looked right at you, watching your face for any uncertainty. But when all he was met with was a breathy yes and begging eyes he let himself do what you were asking of him.

Shared okays and a bout of almost-nervous laughter was shared between the two of you, but was suddenly and brutally ripped away from you when Eddie sank into you and you felt the world re-align on its axis. Everything making sense again.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking perfect sweetheart. I missed you so much, you have no idea-”

“I missed you too.”

Eddie let himself breathe for a minute or two before he eventually started rocking his hips gently into yours. He took it slow, wanting to savour every moment he got with you. He promised himself he would remember how your lips felt against his as he swallowed your whimpers and moans. He remembered how your nails felt scratching down his back whenever he hit that sweet spot inside of you that only he could reach. When your back arched off the back he let his arm slip underneath you, pulling you close to him and fucking you through everything you were both feeling.

Not many words were exchanged, apart from the occasional whimper of one another’s name, because you didn’t need words to express what you were feeling right now.

Once Eddie’s hand slipped between your bodies, you were coming undone underneath him like you had done so many times before. Only this time it felt like the start of something more. Eddie buried his head in the juncture between your neck and your shoulder as he came undone only a couple of seconds after you had. Both you of you held each other through the overwhelmingness of your highs, your hands running through his hair and his hands holding onto you like you were all he needed.

You stayed like that for who knows how long. Sharing stolen kisses and whispered promises. Time didn’t matter when you were with Eddie. Nothing mattered when you were with him, that was the beauty of everything. You were the only people who could quieten each other’s minds.

authors note hi loves. i wrote this tonight in just under two hours with a raging headache and the occasion cry. so, if there are spelling or grammar errors i can only apologise. it is 1am and i don't have the energy to reread it and check. i hope it wasn't too bad nonetheless <3

taglist @lunarzstarz @emmalee-01 @lma1986 @eddieshoneyy @harringtonfan4 @leelei1980 @joeschains @keirasreplies @niname92 (this means i tried to tag you but i couldn't!)

tumblr please don't delete any of this thank you love you

#eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson comfort #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #eddie munson st4 #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x female reader #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x female character #eddie munson filth

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jetii · 2 months ago

Note

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.

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#arc trooper echo #echo x reader #tbb echo #the bad batch #tbb echo x reader #the bad batch x reader #tbb echo x you #clone x reader #echo x you #arc trooper echo x reader #roy writes #almost through my current requests 💙#sorry it took so long!!

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adonis-koo · 1 year ago

Text

sweet nothing • 7

↳ Description: being a guest at the Jeon Estate after a mishap of being kidnapped and dragged into your brothers affairs isn’t all that bad. Truth be told it brings you a lot closer to the mobster and owner of the estate Jeon Jungkook himself.

His two rules are simple, don’t cause trouble and don’t give him a hard time. Somehow you manage to constantly do both in the most endearing way despite being pregnant and waddling around most of the time.

Pairing: Jungkook/reader, ???/reader

↳ Genre: slice of life AU, mafia!AU, pregnancy, there’s like…a little bit of a plot but not a lot, future smut? maybe? it's very domestic!

Word Count: 2k

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Note: IM ALIVEEE, barely, but my skin is clearing, my cortisol levels are lowering, nature is healing 🧘‍♀️ 🍃 I finally gave up and just decided that despite this story not being plot heavy, we’re still getting some plot anyways

“Are the meds not working?” You frowned, standing at the entryway of Jungkook’s bedroom, his laptop abandoned on the other side of the bed as if in defeat, he wasn’t asleep, just vacantly staring at the ceiling while laying down.

You felt an amused sense of pity for him, you don’t think you’ve ever seen him look so utterly miserable before.

“They are, just not fast enough.” He rasped out, not bothering to look at you as he sighed, closing his eyes, “I can't even focus on anything.”

You could feel your heart tug just the slightest for him, he really did look awful, “Well how about we watch a movie? It could take your mind off the pain.”

“I need to work.” He stressed the word as best he could despite his eyes still being shut.

“Okay well, as far as I can tell, you aren’t working.” You replied walking up to the bedside as he opened his eyes into an unappreciative glare.

You offered a somewhat apologetic smile, “C’mon it’ll make you feel better, you’ll have something to focus on.”

Grabbing the remote off his nightstand you left him little choice in the matter, he said nothing, eyes following you as you rounded the bed, huffing a little as you managed to get sat down next to him.

“Remind me why I put up with your antics?” Jungkook asked dryly.

You shrugged as you turned on the TV, “You tell me.”

Jungkook only stayed silent, even as you gave him a side glance, perhaps a little curious, after all, how could you not?

If he had an answer, he kept it to himself as you browsed through the streaming services before eventually settling on an action movie, the plot however was difficult to keep up with, Jungkook however funny enough seemed invested.

Half way through the movie you had given up, the sleepy lethargy you had been experiencing the last few days winning out as you began nodding off.

“Are you really sleeping through the climax?” Jungkook’s raspy voice made your eyes open.

“This was for you not me,” You complained, managing to grab the throw blanket that had been hanging off the end of his bed, curling up against the fuzzy material.

For a brief moment, a memory pulled a smile to your face, “Y’know….when I was little, Wonho used to make me soup- it was from a can but it was the thought that mattered, he’d always get me a fizzy soda from the corner store and we’d watch cartoons together. I remember falling asleep against him and then I’d wake up tucked in on the couch.”

Jungkook’s eyes stared at the TV but you could tell he was no longer focused on the movie, dare you say he seemed almost bothered by your words.

“What?”

He seemed to be debating something in his head, “You used to never go into detail…about your parents. Just that they weren’t around.”

You gave him a weak smile, you knew what he was asking. It rarely got brought up, but you did recall mentioning the few times he had tried to pry before, always shewing the question away with a ‘My parents were never around’.

You shrugged, “Would it be too simple to say that was the truth?”

Jungkook shifted a little to face you, “Was it that simple?”

There was no challenge in his tone, only a quiet raspy question, he was always good at hiding his intentions, shrouding it behind an unphased expression, but the more you had gotten to know Jungkook, the better you had become in the art of seeing the subtle shift in his gaze.

And right now he was nothing but curious, he always had been, but even moreso now.

Your hands had managed to hold the lower half of your stomach, otherwise you would’ve crossed them, eyes flickering away from him you gave a small shrug, “For me….”

You paused for a moment to gather your thoughts before you relented with a quiet sigh, “They were always off going to bars and clubs together, they were addicts. Wouldn’t come home for days at a time, and when they did they were never sober.” Your lips twisted into a frown, voice no louder then a whisper, “Then one day only my dad came home. Definitely not sober but he was crying, like hysterically sobbing, and he just collapsed in front of me and kept apologizing.”

“Grabbed me real tight around the shoulders and kept babbling incoherently, his mouth was all discolored and his skin was real clammy looking.” You rubbed your head, the memory leaving an icky feeling in your chest.

Jungkook looked pensive after a long moment of silence, it was as if he knew there was more, “And?”

“Apparently he overdosed on fentanyl on the living room floor,” You smiled bitterly, “In front of me…I don’t remember it though, can hardly recall the night anymore honestly. I was young, maybe eight or nine. Wonho was around thirteen at the time and he ended up intervening, he told me later that he found out my dad pimped out my mom to get enough money for the fentanyl, problem was that the dealer was apart of the Jang Hi mafia. I can’t even remember the last time I saw her before she disappeared, don’t know if she’s even alive anymore.”

“You never went to look?” Jungkook asked, a soft note could be detected in his voice.

You shook your head, “There was nothing to look for,” you couldn’t hide the sadness in your voice, your lips trembling a little, “She was never there to begin with…maybe that makes me a bad person, but I can’t imagine having a child and just…”

You couldn’t even think about it, your hands rubbing over the swollen skin of your stomach to try and calm your nerves.

“Out of all the people I’ve met- and trust me, I’ve met a lot,” Jungkook’s hand lifted, fixing your blanket back over your shoulder, “In comparison, you’re an angel.”

You stared at him for a long moment before you couldn’t help the smile that tugged on your lips, a smile of his own appearing, “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

“No, I'm saying it because it’s the truth.” Jungkook replied, it was quiet for a moment, his gaze dropping, “You’ll make a great mother.”

“You think?”

“I know,” He had a confident look about him that was difficult to not believe, “How do you feel about the delivery coming up?”

“I still have another twelve weeks to go Jungkook,” You tried to push the anxious feeling from your chest, “But I am nervous, I mean, I’ve never had a child before, don’t really know what to expect, other then I’ve heard it’s excruciating, which I guess is a given…”

You squinted a little, the movie long forgotten playing in the background, “I was terrified when I first found out I was pregnant, and the morning sickness was awful. I could hardly hold anything down the first few days, I was so sensitive to smells, any kind of strong scent gave me a raging headache…”

Jungkook’s lips parted and you could almost see it, hear it, the question of who the father was. But his lips immediately shut once more, as if perhaps sensing you would be unlikely to answer.

“I thought about it…” You admitted quietly, “Getting an abortion, but…” You shook your head, “I don’t know, I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. Any other woman in my shoes surely would. And even now, I wonder if I made the right decision, if I had known Wonho was going to disappear like this…” You sighed, “I don’t know, I guess some silly part of me, thought that maybe, this was meant to take me to a new path in life, one where I’d work hard and I’d be able to separate myself from this life. Was that too naive to think?”

“I think anyone who values their life would want that,” Jungkook concluded easily, “Someone who isn’t meant to be in this lifestyle, who’s honest, and still has a shred of dignity left.”

It was quiet for a moment before he continued, “You were always too good for the underground. Shame you got dragged into it.”

You shrugged, “I don’t really think about it much anymore, I mean, it is what it is.” You chewed on your bottom lip, “Maybe it would be better if I didn’t keep the baby. I’m sure any couple unable would kill for the chance to adopt.”

You had never seen Jungkook straighten the way he did on this moment and you couldn’t help but somewhat regret your words, not your thought on it, but the fact that you had voiced it aloud.

It wasn’t the first time you had thought about it either, it was stupid of you to think having this baby would do anything other than pull you into the underground further.

“What makes you say that?” Jungkook’s gaze was like steel, it made you shy away a little, almost feeling the same way when you had first met.

You couldn’t keep eye contact with him even if you wanted too, “A lot of reasons,” you confessed, nothing more then a whisper, “The fact that I’m a single mom for starters? Or the fact that my brother is in serious debt and I’m being held here as a makeshift safe house? Let’s not even begin to talk about being able to properly provide for a child. I never had present parents and I don’t have anyone to ask for help.”

You felt tears of frustration fill your eyes.

Jungkook parted his lips, but quickly shut them once more, you could tell he was battling a plethora of questions, which maybe he didn’t deserve an answer too, but you could tell it was beginning to slowly eat at him.

Instead Jungkook’s lip twitched as if in irritation at whatever he was thinking about, eventually vocalizing his thought, “Is the dad really that much of a deadbeat?”

He didn’t say it but you could see it on the tip of his tongue, ‘I never thought you’d go that low’

You didn’t say anything for a long moment, carefully thinking about how to reply, it wasn’t that you were purposely withholding information, it just simply brought back uncomfortable memories.

“Far from a deadbeat. Furthest thing possible,” you shuddered, “It did cross my mind,” You mumbled, “Finding him. Them. But…” you trailed off before shaking your head, “What good would that do me? He might want the baby but he isn’t gonna want me.”

You only glanced down at your stomach, hand rubbing around the swollen skin as you felt a flutter trill across, the baby once again kicking.

It briefly made you smile, your worries put at ease.

A hand suddenly reached out, grabbing your chin along with your attention.

You nearly jumped at Jungkook being nearly nose to nose with you, his lips parted and his eyes had so

many things they wanted to say, “You can always ask me for help.”

You hated the way you felt all of the old feelings you had once upon a time suppressed into nothing more than a blur of self-gaslit delusions.

But it was never delusions, it was never just all in your head.

“Can I?” Your voice wavered.

Jungkook stared at you for a long minute, his eyes dropping briefly to your lips before he eventually, almost reluctantly looked away, only letting out a small laugh.

Perhaps a tone of bitterness if you really listened close, possibly regret?

“We’re gonna have to replay entire last quarter of the movie,” Jungkook complained with a rasp, sinking into the bed frame and suddenly you remembered how easy it was to pretend like there was never anything there.

You cleared your throat, before giving him a weak smile, “I’ll get the remote.”

The past was the past anyways, you’d just have to figure things out one day at a time, just like you always have.

#jungkook #jungkook x reader #bts #bts x reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook x y/n #jungkook imagine #mafia!jungkook #bts jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader smut

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softpascalito · 6 months ago

Text

I To Dig a Grave I Chapter 2 I

Summary: Twenty-one years after the outbreak, you come to Wyoming looking for something and end up in Jackson after a stranger saves your life.

But he doesn't stay a stranger.

Turns out Joel Miller is looking for something too. It feels like a fresh start. But when bad luck seems to follow you, Joel is the only one to turn to, forcing both of you to confront your feelings about your pasts- and each other.

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader Rating: Explicit / MDNI Word count: 7k+ Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Age Difference, Smut, Explicit Content, Grief/Mourning, Mental Health Issues, Canon-Typical Violence, Chose not to use Archive Warnings, Tags to be added

AO3 LINK // Series Masterlist // Playlist

notes: i can't tell you all how i excited i am to get this fic going! thank you for the lovely comments on the first chapter, i promise there is a lot of cool stuff to come!

this fic will deal with heavy topics. please note that it doesn't use archive warnings and tags will be added as we go in order to avoid spoilers. each chapter will have detailed warnings in the end notes on ao3.

Chapter 2 - The Patrol

‘Someone has to leave first. This is a very old story. There is no other version of this story.’ - Richard Silken, The Worm King’s Lullaby

There is a thin sheet of ice covering the streams that are heading downwards. It crunches under the hooves of their horses that dutifully carry them up the hill and past the gas station. Joel is glad that it's Tommy next to him. He's more tense than he's felt in ages, a gnawing feeling in his stomach that has little to do with the skipped breakfast and a lot with the worry that is etched into the frown between his brows. He wouldn't want anyone to see him like this, much less try and calm him down, something he knows is a lost battle.

“They might be fine, Joel,” his younger brother says gently, just loud enough for him to hear. Tommy thinks there will be no response until one comes, a little too late for it to not be premeditated.

“She talked about leaving, sometimes. They would be stupid enough to run off-”

“And leave Jackson?” Tommy raises a brow. “Maria said their house looked normal, all their things still in place. They wouldn't be stupid enough to leave all that behind.”

Joel doesn't want to hear it. He knows, better than anyone. Knows that you wouldn't just leave, not without saying goodbye to the children you'd come to care about so much. Would you leave him without a goodbye?

He almost hopes you would. Because if you didn't leave willingly, what was the alternative? It would've been nearly impossible for someone to take you from inside Jackson with no one noticing. But he can't shake the feeling that something is off.

It’s Tommy who has to keep reminding him to ride slow, to keep an eye on the ground for possible tracks. Joel just wants to go, to spur Old Beardy on until they're galloping up the hill, despite not knowing where it is he needs to go. He just wants to find you. Preferably in one piece, happy and healthy.

He would’ve missed it.

The small footprints leading off the road and onto a smaller path, one that's twisting through pines and further into the woods.

Tommy nods. “Pretty sure ‘tis the one that leads to the hunting cabin.”

It only takes a few minutes for them to be sure. The wooden cabin is hidden away behind a few trees, difficult to spot if you don't know where to look. It doesn't really serve any purpose, at least not anymore. The roof at the back caved in years ago, allowing rain and plants alike to enter the dimly lit room. It’s less than five miles from the gate of Jackson, tucked away from the main road.

He can’t help but think that this would be the perfect place to run off to. Or to hide a body.

Joel is off his horse in a second, not even bothering to tie the stallion's halter to the wooden posts in front of the cabin. Without thinking, he tugs his revolver out of his waistband, using his foot to nudge the door open.

He smells it before his eyes even have a chance to adjust to the dim light. The unmistakable stench of blood. And mixed with it, creating an odor that immediately makes him sick to his stomach, the smell of gunpowder in the air.

***

The sun has been slowly rising while you’ve been flipping through the pages, trying to find the volumes you’re looking for. The library of Jackson, though rather small, has been frequented more and more, especially in the winter months when the weather doesn’t always allow activities outside and people resort to what they’ve always known: Books.

The entire place is supposed to be relocated soon, to a small store on main street. But compared to the greenhouses needing repairs and the stables being expanded, books don't seem to be a priority for most of the townsfolk.

“Books can’t feed us or keep us safe,” Maria pointed out when you brought the slow progress up to her. You politely disagree. You feel like you could live off books for the rest of your life.

Still, packing up everything means the old place, a shed tucked away behind the church, is currently a mess. Sagging bookshelves, a leaky roof and too many books for too little space means chaos. One that only few bother to navigate in its current state. You among them.

It was the crack of dawn when you slipped out of the house, deciding to let Lane sleep in while you walked through the still empty streets to the far end of the town, hoping to get the library work out of the way before the first lesson of the day.

Maria is the one that finds you, making your head peek up from between two shelves with a frown. “You changed your mind on those books?”

She gives a small laugh, one that sounds oddly like relief. Then her face becomes stern again, the look she carries much more often. “You two have some explaining to do, do you realize that?”

Now it's your turn to frown. “We two?” She pauses at that, looking around the small room. But there is no one here but you and her and the characters bleeding from the pages.

“Is Lane not with you?”

You shake your head, turning your attention back to the book in your hands. “She has the 8AM class today.”

“She's not there,” Maria curtly responds. You can tell she's trying to keep her voice steady but there is a hint of anxiety regardless.

“Then she overslept again,” you half guess-half ask, closing the book again.

“She's not at home either.”

An odd feeling crawls over your body. You can't remember what was in your hands a moment ago, but the question is forgotten in an instant. Maria carefully watches as you step out from between the shelves, her tone still gentle. “I've sent Tommy and Joel out to search. We thought you two snuck out.”

You feel numb as you shake your head. “No, I- I didn't see her this morning. I thought she was still asleep.” You rack your brain for the memories of this morning, of last night, of the last week even. But nothing comes to mind, nothing out of the ordinary.

“I was out late last night, finishing up some paperwork,” you mutter, more to yourself than the woman in front of you, retracing your steps in your mind. “Lane got home before me, I had dinner, we talked about blueberries-”

“Blueberries?” Maria asks, her hand already back on the doorknob. She seems restless and it's that fleeting detail that worries you more than anything. Maria stays in control. Always.

“Yeah, we- It doesn't matter. I don't know where she is,” you finish lamely, getting up and joining her at the door. But she hasn't moved yet.

“You should stay at home. I'm sure she'll show up again soon and if she comes back to your place, someone should be there.” You nod but your mind is already drifting again. Lane’s been doing fine, good. So have you, really. Maria gently reaches for your shoulder, steering you out of the shed and towards the church, down the street that leads to the center of Jackson.

You're passing the small graveyard that's protected by brick walls, the stones already withered, pale in contrast to the dark metal fence running along on top. The gate is ajar, but you barely pay it any attention as the information settles in your brain. It takes a few seconds for it to reach your mouth and leave your lips.

“She went out a few times.”

“Out?” Maria enquires, raising an eyebrow as her attention shifts back to you.

“I thought she'd met someone. Cat and her were pretty close and I figured-” You give a small shrug. It's more than uncomfortable, suddenly, and absurd, that you're discussing Lane's private life so openly, with Maria of all people.

“Don't tell her I said that,” you add quickly.

Maria nods as you reach the end of the brick wall. “I won't. I'll get back to the city hall and see if there’s any news yet. You go home.”

Your head nods as if on its own accord. Maria has already turned her back towards you when you pipe up. “Maria?”

She pauses, her back straightening a bit. “Yes?”

“You don't think anything happened to Lane, do you?”

The older woman shakes her head softly. “No. I'm sure she's fine. Now get home. Maybe she's already there.”

And she hurries off, leaving you at the corner of the street with a trembling body and a heavy feeling in your stomach. For a fleeting moment, you allow your thoughts to wander past the point you've been dreading to consider. What if something has happened? If Lane did sneak out, maybe with Cat, maybe alone, and got into some sort of situation? What if she's hurt?

The sky has turned from pink to a light blue, only a few clouds piling around the mountains on the horizon. You glance down at your hands, shaking ever so slightly. You decide to blame it on the cold. The cold that may be getting to your head as well. Because after a few moments, you turn on your heels, heading for the stables. It's only a few rows of houses until the large wooden wall looms in front of you, blocking out the little sunlight you could get in the morning. The wall that protects you from what lies beyond. Infected and Raiders and maybe, you think, as you slip into the stables, maybe answers.

if you enjoyed the chapter, please consider reblogging/sharing and commenting, every single notif on this fic makes my heart swell with love <3

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