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nohoney · 6 months ago

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touya x drug dealer! reader has been an idea that i’ve been wanting to do for a while. i had thoughts of cute flowing dresses, flutes of champagne, strawberries with brown sugar, and a powdery compact mirror with a credit card lined with white at the edge ♡

Touya hates going to the country club. He hates having to get ready to wear the stupid polo shirt and pressed pants his mother picked out for him. He hates having to take out most of his face jewelry, only leaving his eyebrow piercing as a slight rebellion to irritate his father. It’s all so annoying to him but to be fair—

They all hate going to the country club together.

It’s only an obligation for them to attend as a family. To show up so that Enji’s professional business ties can remain intact if the event is important enough. It’s the only time everyone agrees together as a family. Despite the fact that going to the country club is meant to be a luxurious get away, the Todoroki’s see it as anything but.

With the exception of Shouto who is too young to partake in anything, the rest of the family cope in their own ways to survive an agonizing event that none of them want to attend.

Enji smokes in private with the other men, Rei quietly nurses a glass of white wine as she makes polite conversation with the other wives, Fuyumi and Natsuo discreetly pass a weed pen between one another, and Touya…

Well he’s got his special friend that he knows where to find.

All throughout the club, there’s little signs that lead to a certain someone who exchanges little treats for just the right price. It could be money or it could be secrets or something else entirely, but the exchange given has to be deemed equal in value to what is handed out. There’s bouquets that are found throughout the entire club, all seemingly of the same variations except for one flower that’s meant to point you in a certain direction.

Touya walks through the club, noting the one flower that sticks out in the bouquets as a subtle sign of where to find you.

Following the secret path, it leads him this time to a room with only a single piano in the center and the white curtains drawn over the windows.

It’s a beautiful grand piece of shiny, lacquered black and is maintained regularly in its tuning. No music is being played though, all that’s heard is the tinkling laugh from one of the two people that are sitting on the piano bench. Touya walks with his hands in pockets, leisurely in his step when he approaches you. Next to you is the caddy that often accompanies your father on the golf course, amber eyes lifting to him and giving him a friendly nod.

“Touya, so nice to see you again!” you greet with a warm smile. You’re graceful in the way you stand up from the piano bench, sliding your hand along the caddy’s shoulders as you make your way to Touya. He leans down, used to the customary greeting of kissing each cheek from you. The perfume you wear is new, smelling more like citrus and freesia than the usual florals he’s used to.

Turning back to the caddy, you wave him off. “I’ll meet you later Keigo, okay?”

The feathery blonde haired caddy stands from the piano bench, pressing a kiss to your temple first before making his way out.

“So, what can I do for you today Touya? You wanna be perked up? Or you wanna relax?” You ask him immediately, leaning against the grand piano and clacking your manicured nails against the surface.

“You ever think that maybe I’m just here to see you? And nothing more?” Touya playfully nudged his shoe against your ankle, also noting the clean polish of your pedicure. Strappy white heels are your choice of shoe today to compliment your tea dress.

You’re this vision of a good girl, prim and proper, soft and sweet. All the mannerisms you exude are perfected and practiced, taught firmly from the all girls school that you attended. On the surface, you’re just simply the rich daughter to the man who owns the country club. You’re known to love lounging by the pool or reading under the shady trees by the garden. The older adults love to fawn over you, even trying to set you up with suitors but only if they’re screened through your father first.

Rolling your eyes at him, you flash him a smile that sends the message of ‘yeah right’ before you wave him over.

You lift the piano bench where your current stash resides. It’s organized meticulously of all types of different pills and already measured bags of different powders. Nude colored nails hover over the selection that you know him to always get, but you’re polite enough to ask first for confirmation before plucking the packed substances from their spot.

“The usual?”

Touya pulls money out from his pocket, the same exact amount that he’s paid every single time he’s seen you. “The usual.” he confirms.

You hold two baggies for him, one with two blue pills and the other filled halfway of white powder. Touya takes it from you and waits for you to take out the held out cash.

“Mm, this dress doesn’t have pockets. Can’t take it.” you smile as you shut the piano bench, “I’ll take a kiss though.”

Touya smiles back, pocketing his cash alongside the goodies you’ve given him. “Is that how you’re taking payments today? With kisses?”

He knows you want him, you’ve been wanting him ever since he had fucked you at your father’s birthday party just a few months back. He can still recall the champagne he tasted on your lips, the silky material of your party dress as he pushed it over your hips, the smell of peony and honey spritzed onto your skin when he had bit your shoulder. It was an amazing fuck, one that he thought about going back for, but he liked to see you dangle yourself for him. Beg him with those pretty eyes and try to seduce him with low cut dresses or leave lingering touches that you hoped pull him in.

You shrug your shoulders and play coy, stepping into his personal space to smooth your hands along his shoulders as if you were going in to hug him. “Special just for you, I’ll figure it out with the rest.”

His hand slides along the small of your back to pull you in and close the space. “You are so bad.”

“I happen to be a very good girl, my record shows that.”

“Your records were expunged by your dear daddy.”

“So therefore, I have done nothing wrong.” you giggle, “C’mon, stop teasing me like this. You never want to see me outside of this place. I only see you when you and your family come to the club for an event, and you guys always look so miserable.”

“And that’s why I’m here,” Touya’s hand drops lower, grabbing at your ass and relishing your little gasp, “because you help me get through these aggravating events.”

He teases you, has you chasing after him and keeps him entertained whenever he comes to this ridiculously posh club. You play the polite girl when you’re out among the crowd but he’s always felt your eyes on him whenever the two of you are in the same room together. If you could keep your eyes on him the entire time you would, but sadly you have to get pulled aside from so many people. From your inner circle, to polite introductions to your father’s colleagues, to the ones who want a little something to get them through the night. You carry yourself with grace and good posture, more than any girl that he had ever met.

You’re the classiest little drug dealer he knows.

And like every deal, a transaction has to be completed. So he leans down to kiss you, holding you tightly by your waist to bring you closer to him. You’re so eager for him locking your fingers behind his neck, sighing sweetly that makes him reminisce of that night you had together. The plush of your lips takes him back to that night, back when you smelled more floral and warm, when he had found you lounging alone at the pool and bored from your father’s party.

Surprisingly you pull away from the kiss. “I like you Touya, c’mon we had so much fun together at my daddy’s party. Don’t you wanna have fun again?”

“I never said that I didn’t want to do it again.” Touya points out as he takes a seat on the piano bench, “It’s crossed my mind.”

You pout at him, the gloss from earlier kissed off slightly sticky on his lips instead. Carefully you wipe away the remnants of the gloss from his lips, smudging it on the pads of your fingers. “You’re so mean, you know that? Don’t you know to not make your plug mad?”

“Ah, how can I make it up to you, princess? Please oh please,” Touya wryly plays along with you, “what can I do to get back in your good graces?”

You hold out your hand to him, “Take a walk with me.”

Walking out hand in hand with you, he is led out of the piano room and allows you to take him to wherever it is you have in mind. You pass by one person that you give a subtle signal too, Touya observing how they make their way to the piano room with a key in hand. He wonders how much you’ve paid off certain workers inside the country club to help and protect you.

He admires that about you, not being afraid to exercise your power. Maybe it just comes with being a spoiled brat who can get her record wiped clean when she calls her daddy with crocodile tears. All this wealth at your disposal and the only thing that entertains you is being the unofficial country club girl scout for xannies, oxies, and other treats.

Touya is led to different halls throughout the club, some he recognizes more than others, but not as well as you do. These are your grounds after all. The caddy from before is seen talking to a group of gentlemen, the elders clearly enjoying conversation with him if the boisterous laughter and the friendly pats on his back are anything to go by. Hell, Touya’s father is apart of the group and even he looks to be amused from whatever quip the feathery haired young man doled out.

Keigo must sense your presence nearby as he immediately looks up to see you. You blow an air kiss to him and he pretends to catch it in his fist. Touya can swears that when he looked at you, you mouthed ‘love you’ to him as they passed by.

He doesn’t know much about Keigo, only that he was brought on by you and that he happens to be very charming with many people. Looks wise, he can see why you went for him but Touya hasn’t taken any personal interest to get to know the caddy.

People pass by and give you pleasant greetings, all of which you returned kindly but never paused to have a conversation. There’s excitement running through you as Touya follows behind, wondering where exactly you’re taking him. He can tell by how eager your pace is that gives it away. It’s precious, he enjoys it too much.

You want him that badly.

━━━━✧

Touya’s not sure how he’ll explain to his mother how his pants got so wrinkled, but it’s a thought that gets pushed out of his mind as he smothers you in a kiss. He’s trying to recall his last excuse when his mother questioned how he became so unkept. The answer isn’t quite coming to him; all he can recall is just the adrenaline he had afterwards from fucking you so good. Normally he’s very smooth with his words, lying easily to anyone when it pleases him, but he had gotten pussy drunk off of you and his brain just wasn’t operating the same.

You and that cunt of yours.

He’s almost upset that he’s been denying himself this entire time. There were plenty of nights recalled the sloppy kisses from you, the elegant way you crooked your finger to bring him to you, and when you pulled on the roots of his hair when he had eaten you out. Truthfully he had wanted to chase you just as much when the deed had been done. But as he’s got you on your knees for him, Touya remembers why he decided to not give into you so easily.

“Please Touya? Please, pretty please?”

It’s so sweet when you beg.

He remembers after coming down from the high that arrogant look on your face when he had helped zip your dress back up. That because he had shagged with you then he was surely to come at your beck and call. Instead of giving in, Touya decided that he’d like to see you chase after him. To have you be the one sending text messages or letting late night calls go unanswered, declining private invitations from you to keep you frustrated.

He still has all your voicemails of you breathless and needy, begging softly for him to just want you back.

Your voice is small and pitched, whiny almost as you pathetically tug at his belt as you sink to your knees. You’re practically drooling for it, eyeing his bulge and caressing it gently through the fabric. Christ, he really made you that in love with his cock. “Oh princess, don’t tell me you’ve been pining after me.” He coos over you and tilts your head up to look at him, “All this time?”

“Yes, god yes!” You admit and jut your lower lip in a pout, “I would wait around for you, hoping you’d answer me or even come visit! I’ve always been so nice to you Touya, and you just ignore me!”

It is the spoiled brat in you that’s making you act this way. You’re such a good girl, a nice girl, a pleasant and sweet and pretty girl that there shouldn’t be any reason to give you this awful treatment. That’s how you see it. That you’re the one who blessed Touya with the rare gift of giving him personal access to you so therefore, he should be grateful and be falling at your feet.

Touya has his own pride though.

“Is that darling caddy you’re so fond of not enough for you?”

“I adore Keigo, I love him,” you admit, “but I want you too.”

You want him desperately, slowly crumbling your pride as you beg softly for him. This is what Touya wanted from you. To see you throw a bit of dignity away just for him.

“Yeah? You mean that?” he asks you, using a single finger under your chin to lift your gaze up to him.

“Yes.”

He could probably ask anything of you in this moment if it meant that he’d give himself up to you. Something that you would find worth it for him to finally cure your ache. Admittedly one of his fantasies with you is to use one of your fancy lipsticks to draw the filthiest names on your body and take pictures for evidence. He wants to write slut at your tits, whore written in fat letters on your back, maybe even cumdump on your tummy with an arrow pointing down to your cunt. Touya wonders if that would be too much though.

He wants to demean you so bad, knock you off your high horse and make you look pathetic.

Yet there’s also some desire in him to cherish you too. You are the darling of this club, adored and revered and Touya falls into that crowd too. That it wouldn’t be so bad if you were to wear a dainty necklace with his initial, have you in his car for leisurely joy rides down by the coast, and go on those stupid fancy picnics that you posted on your instagram.

“Need you Touya, need you!” you whine, catching his hand and leaning your cheek into his palm. Aw look at you, trying to look sweet for him, giving him doe eyes and batting your lashes.

There’s some laughter outside, just a small group passing by the room you’ve locked yourselves in for privacy. There’s a little sign that you hung on the door handles: the art gallery is closed. Nearby is a sculpture of a nude woman, crafted by one of the local artists here and was in the club’s newsletter not too long ago. Touya glances to it, finding it beautiful and better in person than in the photo they had taken of it. Art is usually better to see in person anyway-

“Touya!”

You’re not on your knees anymore for him, standing to your feet and smoothing down your dress. Ah, you’re upset now—actually upset at him. “If you don’t want me, then just fucking go. You’ve been playing these games with me and I’m tired!” you huff and try to pick up your heels that you discarded onto the floor when you had locked up the room, “Keep the stuff I gave you, I still won’t charge you for today.”

His hand goes to your wrist and he’s pulling you back to him, wrapping you up in a hug as he hushes you, “Don’t be so upset, it’s not a good look for you.”

“Well I wouldn’t be if you would just look at me!” you almost cry, sinking into his body and making a small noise when he hugs you tighter. “Everyone else wants me, why don’t you? Don’t you want me?”

It surprises him how genuine you’re being. You can’t be this upset, can you?

It makes Touya happy that he can make you this way.

“Never said that I didn’t, princess.” he admits finally, “I like you back, is that all you need to hear?”

He’s given a little nod, feeling your hand press at his bulge again. Your hand caresses his cock through his slacks and you sigh a little, slightly tilting your head up and nosing along his jawline. Touya bites down the smug smile that wants to sprout up on his face—this is how he wanted you, on his terms and not on yours. So now that he’s got you right where he wants you…

“Ow!” you cry out when Touya roughly grabs a handful of your hair right at the root, pulling you just enough to make you look up at him. He holds tightly and coos over your shocked expression, your wide eyes looking up at him with a small sense of betrayal. How could he switch up on you so fast like that? “T-Touya..!”

You pout up at him, your lips tempting him to kiss you.

“You’re not the good girl you make yourself out to be. Like you got everyone wrapped around your little finger, huh?” Touya speaks haughtily, his grip flexing slightly and tugging slightly on the roots of your hair, “Good girls don’t sell drugs out of a piano bench and fuck around with the piss poor caddy that’s so popular around here.”

“Maybe not other girls,” you hiss through your teeth, “but I can.”

You can do whatever you want, it’s how you lived your life. If there are any rules you’ve broken, you’ve always been very good to take care of it yourself mostly. Look at how you flout about, walking around with your pretty heels and waving the help over with darling manicured hands, discreetly handing cash and speaking with the sweetest lilt to get people to do what you please.

Touya snorts, but he does admire you all the same. If he had more drive to do anything, he’d probably be working under you too.

But he hates being inside this stupid country club, which is where you typically are when you’re not traveling or with your own gaggle of friends. This is where you like to work after all, and will be yours to run once your dear daddy passes.

“God, you’re fucking beautiful.” Touya sighs out before leaning down to kiss you. He’s unexpectedly soft considering the tight grip he still has on you, slotting his lips against yours too intimately for someone who also wants to ruin you all the same. It’s a long kiss he gives you, that it even gets the butterflies fluttering inside of his chest.

He pulls back and releases the hold he had on your hair, twirling his finger in a circle to indicate for you to turn around. You present your back to him, getting flashbacks to when Touya had first undressed you. His fingers are cold as he fiddles with the zipper at the back and pulls it down slowly. The dress loosens from your body and you shrug off the thin straps. It falls to the floor in a pool surrounding your feet, and you’re left standing in a little cotton panty that’s lined with lace. Your nipples are perked due to the chill of the room but you don’t bother to cover yourself to retain some modesty.

You’ve been wanting to be like this in front of Touya for the longest time.

You’re given another wordless command, blue eyes briefly glancing down to the hardwood floor. Kicking your dress off to the side, you kneel down in front of Touya once more and watch as he unzips his slacks and pulls his cock through the opening. Your mouth practically waters upon seeing his dick again, so thick and with the prettiest color at the tip you had seen. You’re about to go in when he stops you with a simple little tut.

Glancing up at him, you wonder what he could possibly have to say.

“Don’t get too sloppy, can’t walk out of here with fucking drool stains on my crotch.”

Touya hopes to fuck you in his bed one day, have you squirt on his sheets, and then cum all over your face. But while the two of you are here, the two of you have to be able to come out look presentable. He can’t go as wild as he wants on but he fucking swears that he’s gonna make you fucked out by him one of these days.

You nod in understanding before swallowing his cock into your throat. There’s some dreamy sigh from you as you bob up and down on his cock; you really must have been aching for this. There’s enthusiasm as you swallow all his inches, looking up at Touya and going all doe eyed for him. See how much you wanted him?

He admires your small gags, the way your body lurches when you choke deeply on his cock, but he reminds you again to try to keep your drool from getting on him. Touya wants to fuck your face, he wants to make you cry from fucking your mouth too hard, and even slap your cheek. There’s so much he wants to do but this isn’t the time or place to do any of it.

You’d be pissed off too if he even attempted.

You pull off his cock, a line of drool connecting your lips to his cock still but it gets wiped away quickly by the back of your hand.

Touya grabs your wrist to bring you to your feet, pulling you to the nearest wall to fuck you against. Your hands brace the flat surface, grunting when Touya uses one hand to jut your ass back to him and the other presses your head to the wall. With your back arched, he admires your elegant form under the soft lighting of the art gallery. The lovely still life painting of a bouquet does not compare to how fucking beautiful you are in this moment.

He can’t wait until he can ruin you to tears.

He offers his fingers to your lips, your mouth obediently dropping to lick and spit on them. It tickles a little with the way your tongue drags along his fingers but he doesn’t allow it for long. Touya only needs just enough to finger your hole, even spitting on his own fingers before he does a careful but quick prep after pulling down your panties.

“Oh god… oh fuck…” you mutter, your eyes shutting as relishing in his touch, “Fuck me please!”

“Relax.” Touya is firm in his tone, acting cool and masking the equal desperation that is surging throughout his own body. He wonders if you notice how eager his fingers are to be inside you, biting his lip to force down the wolffish smile on his face when he feels how wet you are. All that teasing before that he had done to you was worth it.

It was worth all of it to lead up to this moment.

His fingers withdraw and he sucks on them, savoring the taste of your slick along his tongue. Touya recalls how he ate you out at your father’s birthday party, driving you wild with his tongue on your clit and the sweet noises you made. It would be nice to do it again.

Your body shudders a little as the head of Touya’s cock nudges against your pussy, a sharp little breath sucked in as the first few inches sink into you. “Fuck!” you quietly curse.

Touya would like to savor this, to take his time and work you up into a sloppy, pretty little mess. To finger your clit until you cry out of frustration and then choke you if you give him an attitude. There’s so many things that he wishes he could do in this moment. But you remind him—

“Please hurry, we can’t be in here for long.”

Because you’ve got people waiting for you. People waiting to eagerly meet you, whether at your piano bench or if you’re needed somewhere else to help maintain your father’s appearance. No matter how much Touya has this vision of what he wants, he knows that he truly can not have you in his own way.

But he’s grateful to get you anyway.

He thrusts in, sinking in smoothly but with a sharp clap of his body meeting yours. Your pussy tightens up on him from the brief shock that is also coupled with a small gasp. His hands grasp your hips tightly and he pounds away at you, noticing how you help with the motion by moving back into him as well. It’s quiet inside the art gallery so all Touya can hear is you and the sound of his skin slapping against yours as he fucks hard into you.

“T-Touya!”

It’s just as sweet as the first time, observing how you occasionally look over your shoulder at him and give him sweet doe eyes again. But this time they’re glazed over, your eyelids dropping as you get lost in the pleasure, relishing in everything that you had been waiting for. Touya wonders how many nights you spent fingering yourself to him, he imagines your embarrassment when he would leave your needy voicemails or nudes in his inbox unanswered, and he dreamt more than a few times of you riding that pretty boy caddy in front of him.

I want to fuck you again.

Those words almost slip out as he reaches a hand to finger your clit. Your knees buckle but you maintain yourself, your own little sounds struggling to be kept in. Touya can feel it already, he can feel you just about ready to snap if the way your cunt is clenching around him is any indicator of anything.

“Please cum, please cum!” you desperately whisper, “Please cum in me!”

I need to fuck you again.

Touya fucks harder to get himself to cum, looking down to see that you’ve creamed all over him. He’s grateful that he pushed his pants down enough so that none of it catches onto his clothes. It’d be nice if you could clean up his cock with your mouth after he cums in you, but you’ve got to come out looking as proper as you can be.

So no hair pulling, no spitting in your mouth, no crying to ruin your makeup, and no marks are to be left.

But if you’re going to beg him to cum in you, you should be able to accommodate a reasonable request.

Touya leans over, feeling his control ready to let go as he’s about ready to burst as he mutters in your ear, “Keep my cum in you, keep me inside you.”

His words have your eyes rolling back, answering him with a jittery nod and a sweet yes hissed into the air. “Yes, fuck yes!”

I am going to fuck you again.

Touya jolts into you one last time, pressing himself so deep that you whine his name. He’s emptying himself into you, spilling cum into that delicious cunt of yours. He chances putting a hand at your throat to choke you, his fingers careful at your windpipe and peering down at you as your orgasm wipes your mind blank and has you going limp that he has to catch you.

And then there’s silence.

He’s holding your body against him, carrying your weight as your mind tries to start back up again. Touya drinks in this moment because he knows he won’t get a repeat of this. He may never get the upper hand again now that he’s given you what you’ve been aching for.

He wants to keep coming back not to just buy off you, but to keep seeing you.

“Good, Touya?” you manage to find your voice and lean back against him, patting your hand against his arms that are still holding you tightly.

“The best.” He answers

You chuckle, nodding your head and still remaining in his hold with his cock in you. He wonders why you haven’t bothered to start making yourself proper—

The door to the art gallery unlocks and it has Touya jolting. All the curse words he knows flash in succession in his mind but you pat your hand against him. “It’s okay, it’s Keigo.”

Sure enough, it is.

The pretty caddy with blond hair is approaching the two of you with two small towels in hand. Had he been waiting outside the entire time?

Touya wonders if every move you’ve made has been calculated. Did you know for sure that he would finally fuck you today after keeping you waiting for so long? And to have your favorite toy waiting on hand to clean you up as well?

He takes the offered towel from Keigo but doesn’t offer a thanks. Touya wipes off the remnants of you off his cock, throwing the towel over his shoulder as he pulls his pants back up. His belt buckle clinks as he makes himself presentable.

“Can we stay and talk for a little Keigo?” you ask leisurely as the caddy places the towel over a wooden bench for you to sit on. You’re smoothing down your hair as you sit down, Keigo kneeling down on one knee to massage your calves. Your dress and heels still lay discarded as you appear to take your time getting ready to leave.

“Just for a little, okay? Hana is looking for you—“ Keigo informs you and laughs a little as you groan at the name. It seems he has the sense to not continue the sentence.

Touya is dressed, his pants not as wrinkled as he hoped they would be. Rei will probably take notice like she did last time but this time, he has enough clarity to give an answer that he knows his mother will not believe but does not have any backbone to question.

He supposes that he should go out there.

He’s got what he wanted anyway.

“See ya princess.”

“I’ll see you out there Touya.” You call to him just as he’s out the door.

Stopping by a restroom first, he puts himself in the privacy of a stall after locking the door. He retrieves the dime bag and admires the scaling of the cocaine inside the plastic. He fishes out a key from his wallet, using the tip of it dip into the bag. He inhales a sizable bump into each nostril, wiping his nose clean before flushing the toilet for the sake of seeming as if he had used the facilities.

He joins Natsuo and Fuyumi, the weed pen offered to him as well but he declines. Just a little further down, Shouto is with two boys that he seems to have made friends with. One of them is blond and huffing his chest while the other has hair the color of an evergreen tree and seems to be the mediator of whatever fuss is going on.

Touya leans back into his seat, just a touch more awake as he tastes the drip at the back of his throat.

━━━━✧

It’s a relief when it’s finally time to leave.

Enji and Rei are side by side, she’s holding onto his arm for balance, teetering slightly to the right but is corrected by her husband as he helps her into the car. Shouto is waving his friends goodbye before going along to Fuyumi’s side. She asks him if she had fun and he answers yes. She is no longer high but Natsuo takes a small hit of the pen one last time to tolerate the car ride.

Touya is about ready to take his place inside the car when he hears his name. He looks back to see you walking towards him and he decides to walk to you so that none of his family eavesdrops.

“Thank you for seeing me today, I really enjoyed your company.” you speak with a bubbly lilt and your smile more pleasant than usual. Of course you’re happy—you and Touya finally fucked again.

“Thanks for having me.” Touya responds a little flatter than he intended to, just trying to keep his family off his tail so that they don’t ask questions.

“Text me later.”

It’s not framed as a hopeful question; you’re telling him to text you.

“I will.”

He means it.

No more ignoring or being coy, not anymore since you got what you wanted and Touya knows that he’s given up the power to you. It was nice to briefly wield it but he knows in the end that you are the one to hold all the cards and have things aligned with how you want them.

Touya avoids his father’s gaze as he gets into the car. He leans back into his seat at the very back of the car, crossing his arms over his chest and feeling the buzz of the coke starting to wind down. He chances looking back and you’ve hung around in your same spot, appearing to see him off.

The windows are tinted and he’s sure that you can’t see him through the glass but you wave anyway, as if knowing that he’s looking at you. He resists waving back.

And as the car starts, someone joins you. Wearing all black and with slightly unkempt white hair, Touya recognizes your foster brother. He’s only seen Tomura around a handful of times—unlike you that leaves a trail to be found, he’s a bit elusive.

The car starts to pull away, Touya watches from his seat as your foster brother leans down to you. One would think that he just leaned down to kiss your cheek but he swears that it was a kiss on the lips. It was hard to tell when enough distance had blurred the interaction.

Not that it matters to him anyway.

Later that night, Touya does as promised and he texts you. All the previous messages in his inbox from you were one sided but now he’ll be expected to reach out to you. Maybe you can meet him at a different place occasionally, take you for a ride in his white mustang or share a sorbet with you in the downtown area.

He knows that he will have to meet you more often at the country club though—it is where you work after all.

Touya hates the country club but he’s only ever gone to have a chance to see you.

#todoroki touya x reader #dabi x reader #dabi smut #tw drugs

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nahoney22 · 11 months ago

Text

Poisonous Thoughts***

The Bad Batch PROMPT EVENT

Crosshair X F!Reader

word count: 1.6k

prompts:

Person A: go fuck yourself

Person B: fuck me yourself, you coward.

With your relationship already on the rocks, Crosshair’s jealousy about your friendship with Howzer only adds fuel to the fire.

warnings: NSFW, 18+. sexual themes and explicit language. Jealous Crosshair, name calling, angsty, slight spoilers for episodes 6&7, implied blowjobs, mutual pining, first kiss, enemies to friends to friends to enemies to enemies to lovers. This was pretty bad and messy and all over the place. Order 66 mention.

authors note: part of the TBB PROMPT EVENT by @arctrooper69, @dumfanting & @freesia-writes. Thanks for the tag 🤍 and seeing as most people wanted me to write for Crosshair in my last poll it seems only fitting to do this!

Your relationship with Crosshair was chaotic, to say the least.

From initial animosity to a begrudging tolerance, and finally to friendship within a span of a few months, you found yourself developing a deep emotional connection with the Marksman. A very deep one. He was the kind of person who you would search for in a crowded room, wanting him to get you away from it all.

Your feelings for him left you in a state of confusion for quite some time, thoughts almost poisoned and fueled by a hope that perhaps he felt the same. There were signs—his genuine smiles reserved only for you, his seeking of your advice in moments of need, and the subtle shifts in his demeanor around you.

Then came Order 66.

When it began, you lost him. The moment it was issued, you felt his absence keenly not physically but mentally. He suddenly turned cold. And then he was gone.

And despite the anger that filled your heart for months, you almost found solace in considering his actions to be his inhibitor chip. There was a glimmer of hope but when Kamino fell, his unwavering loyalty to the new Empire blinded him.

The memory of that night alone in your bunk, crying until your throat burned, never faded. You even entertained the desperate idea of pleading with Hunter to turn back and bring him onboard, but deep down, you knew it was futile. Your love for him was over before it truly began.

Months later, as things spiraled from bad to worse, you found yourselves reunited. In that moment, your mind was a blank slate. You didn't know how to react or what to feel. Your emotions oscillated between love and hatred, a cycle that seemed endless. But there was a bitterness in you.

Each day brought another round of tiptoeing around Crosshair. While the others seemed to have moved past his past transgressions, eager to bury the hatchet, for you, it felt like starting over from square one.

He exuded the same coldness and distance that characterized your initial encounters, his silence speaking volumes. That is until Howzer spoke to you.

As you engaged in small talk with Howzer, Crosshair couldn't resist interjecting with his unwelcome remarks. You understood Howzer's animosity towards Crosshair, but what puzzled you was Crosshair's hostility towards him. You shot him bitter glares whenever he spoke out of turn, only for him to leave before any response could be made.

What was his problem?

This scenario repeated itself several times. From the corner of the room, you could feel the weight of that familiar glare from times past, and as your eyes met, Crosshair's stare remained unyielding.

One evening, yourself and Crosshair found yourselves aboard the Remora with Echo. "You and Howzer seem... close," his drawling voice came from behind you, causing you to momentarily freeze, shooting Echo an annoyed glance as he awaited your response.

"I speak to him the same amount as I speak to everyone else," you retorted, rolling your eyes after mustering your voice, refusing to turn around to face Crosshair.

"Funny," he began, "I don't recall you speaking to me that much."

Gazing out of the window, a slow realisation dawned upon you. He was jealous. The absurdity of it all almost made you smirk. Despite the flutter in your stomach wondering why he could be jealous, you relished in the opportunity to make him squirm first. "Perhaps he has more riveting conversational qualities."

Echo audibly inhaled a deep breath, seemingly perpetually caught in the crossfire of arguments involving Crosshair and someone else. Meeting Crosshair's gaze this time, a small scowl etched onto his face, you continued, "I have my doubts."

"No need to," you added, meeting his gaze squarely. "I don't see him wanting to talk to you anyway. And the same goes for me."

"Thought you grew up from being a brat?" His words ignited a fiery rage within you, prompting you to rise to your feet. "And I thought you had some more respect for yourself. But you're just a jealous little man," you shot back, your words laced with venom.

Echo swiftly intervened, positioning himself between the two of you. "Can you guys do this elsewhere? All this bickering is giving me a headache."

Crosshair's gaze shifted away from yours, his demeanor faltering. "Gladly," he muttered before stalking off, leaving you to follow in his wake.

Once out of earshot, you wasted no time in confronting him. "Got nothing else to say, huh?" you challenged. "Are you going to try and deny that you're jealous?"

"I have nothing to be jealous about," he snarled, plucking the toothpick from his lips and slamming it to the ground. "You're not mine."

You couldn't help but laugh, a bitter edge to your tone. "You're right about that. You had your chance, and you blew it."

For a moment, you watched as he froze, his expression betraying a hint of confusion. "What do you mean I 'blew it'?" he demanded, his voice tinged with incredulity.

Suddenly, the weight of your words hit you, and you found yourself looking down, shaking your head. "Nothing. I didn't mean to say that," you murmured, hoping to retract your statement.

"I don't believe you," he countered, stepping closer, his presence enveloping you entirely. "You never liked me."

A sudden pang of realisation struck your heart. With your stomach tied in knots, you met his intense gaze. "Is that what you always thought?"

He continued to stare you down, searching for any hint of deception, but to his surprise, he found none. Yet, his stubbornness refused to accept it. "You're lying," he insisted, his voice firm.

"No," you muttered, your voice trembling with emotion, "but I wish I was."

He scoffed dismissively, turning his back on you with a bitter twist to his expression. "I don't get you. If you had these feelings, why did you never tell me?" His voice cracked with frustration, his shoulders tense with unresolved tension.

"I could say the same," you shot back, your bravery tinged with desperation, clinging to the hope that maybe, just maybe, he felt the same way you did. But as his gaze met yours, a storm of conflicting emotions raged within you.

His frustrated glare softened briefly, revealing a glimpse of vulnerability before he turned away again, his back a wall of defense.

Memories flooded your mind—quiet moments shared between you, moments where unspoken words hung heavy in the air, suffocating in their silence. You remembered the times when he seemed on the verge of opening up, only to retreat into himself.

In that moment, a surge of resentment bubbled within him, fueled by months of unanswered questions and unspoken truths. "Go fuck yourself," he spat, his words dripping with anger and self-loathing. Yet beneath the anger and hurt, there lingered a flicker of longing, a desperate yearning for connection buried deep within both of you, waiting to be acknowledged.

“Go fuck me yourself, you coward.” The words tumbled from your lips before you could even process them, but in that heated moment, consequences be damned.

He whirled around, his gaze piercing into yours as he strode towards you with purpose, until you were backed up against the wall, his breath hot against your face. "Say. That. Again," he demanded, his voice laced with urgency, his eyes searching yours for any sign of sincerity.

It wasn't a threat; it was a plea, a desperate plea for honesty amidst the chaos of emotions swirling between the both of you. Did you mean it? Of course. Of course you fucking did.

Your breath hitched in your throat as tears threatened to spill from your eyes, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Crosshair, I..." you began, your voice faltering as you struggled to find the right words to express the tumult of feelings coursing through you.

"I know," he murmured softly, his gaze softening as he understood, as if everything that needed to be said had already been said.

Leaning down, he pressed his lips against yours in a swift yet tender kiss, his hands cradling your face gently, overwhelming you with a rush of warmth and longing that eclipsed both of your poisonous thoughts.

“Come with me,” he rasps against your lips, a gentle tug on your hand that had you willingly coming with him and far, far away from Echo’s ears.

He guides you through the ship until you both come to the refresher, both of you tumbling inside as your kisses become fervent, desperate and needy.

He pulls back for a moment, gazing down at you as if to see you were real and not a figment of his imagination before his lips latch onto your neck, sucking and bruising your skin. You whine in pleasure, keeling into his body as your hands move down to his crotch.

Softly, you palm against his erection, gasping as you feel the outline of his hardening cock. “I want you Cross,” you gasp as his teeth graze along your flesh.

He growls low and guttural, but understands, “I know kitten,” his hands travel up the underside of your shirt, fingers stroking against your breasts as his hips involuntarily jerk into the touch of your hand, “as soon as we get back to Pabu… fuck, I can’t even begin to tell you what I’m going to do to you.”

You grin, a sultry laugh parting your lips. “Perhaps you should show me.”

“Refresher isn’t big enough.” He grunts, “but I could give you a taster?”

His tone is suggestive and your core pangs with arousal at the possibilities. “How so?”

He gazes down at you, one hand now cupping your jaw with his thumb dancing over your lower lip. There’s a longing, a love in his eyes but unmistakably there’s one of pure lust too. “Get on your knees and find out.”

More Crosshair Works

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Tags: @thiswitchloves9904 @lulalovez @photogirl894 @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 @temple-elder @mysticalgalaxysalad @imalovernotahater @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @tinyreadersmur @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @thesith @raevulsix @mssbridgerton @cw80831 @knightprincess @crosshairlovebot @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz x @jesseeka @theroguesully @ladykatakuri i @jambolska-grozdova @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @chrissywakingup @pb-jellybeans s @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @ezras-left-thumb @the-rain-on-kamino @the-bad-batch-baroness

#crosshair x reader #tbbpromptevent #the bad batch #spoilers for eps 6&7 but only minor #nahoney22 writes #the bad batch crosshair x reader #tbb #bad batch

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gatheringbones · 3 days ago

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[“In the dungeon, the dominatrix was a paragon of high-femme adornment, training submissive men in the supposedly organic wisdom of her gender. In reality, I was trying on this kind of glamour and ultrafemininity for the first time.

Two things helped me to fall in love with mani-pedis and skin creams and click-clacking around in dramatically slanted stilettos in my 20s, despite rejecting these sartorial amusments growing up. One was that I was making cash money to do it, which was much more motivating than the Seventeen magazines and peer pressures of my adolescence. Second, I was surrounded by beautiful naked women encouraging me to develop my own style. Most of my colleagues were much more experienced with makeup, hair, lingerie, jewelry, heels, nails, lotion, and perfume, much more confident in products, styling, shapes, and colors than I was. Some of them were sweetly excited about my ineptitude, eagerly turning me into a doll they could experiment on. I smelled the sizzle of flat irons as they tugged at my hair from behind, I squeezed eyelash glue nervously along the rinds of falsies as they timed me, I sat on the cold linoleum and snapped their garters into place every day for weeks until I could do it with my eyes closed. As their hands and tools stroked my body, conditioning me in more ways than one, I felt an ASMR buzz all over. If I felt objectified, it was as an exalted precious object, like a car being tuned up under my hood, my exteriors waxed until I shined.

A colleague turned to me out of the blue one day, snapping, “What is your skin care routine?” When I sheepishly replied that I had none, she marched me into the bathroom, sternly showing me how to cleanse, moisturize, and always wear sunscreen. I have done this every single day since. That’s all it took for me to learn to care for myself in this way. A little feminine superiority.

If this sounds familiar, it should. Despite being assigned female at birth, I was just as enchanted as any dude could have been by confident pros guiding me into a realm of prettiness, and I needed every bit as much coaching. I would get femme trained by my colleagues, and minutes later I would lead clients into session rooms and train them to be femme too.

I’m hardly the first person to observe that drag is drag no matter your resting gender, your genitals, your orientation, your motivation. Not to put too fine a point on it, but most sex workers know we are drag artists. Much in the same way that pro wrestlers exaggerate their own masculinity, the dominatrix is a femme maximalist entertainer. The fact that a cis woman can feel like a drag queen speaks to the performative nature of gender expression, of both drag as an art and cross-dressing as a fetish. By and large, my cross-dressing clients didn’t want to be women. They wanted to be bimbos! They embodied their own ideas of insatiable sluts and campy cartoons. Maximalist girls, exaggerated girls, megawatt girls. They wanted satin corsets, jewel tones, iridescent glitter, fishnets, freesia body spray. They spoke like Betty Boop and did their best to stiffly dance along to Prince songs. They saw this glamour as sparkling dynamite to bust them out of the prison of their toxic masculinity, even if just for a few hours, even if only superficially.

I didn’t find these fantasies a reminder of the awful pressures of girliness I had initially rejected; gender-bending in the dungeon showed me that I had been positioned to see femme all wrong. The bimbo is an archetype, a shimmering human invention waiting to be embodied by anyone who cares to summon her. It’s the choice to play with gender as an adult, as opposed to a lifetime of imposed messaging about what kind of gender you can and can’t be, that generates the erotic pleasures of cross-dressing.

I enjoyed being bullied into girliness by my fellow pro-dommes, so I empathized with our clients, regardless of the gender trajectory that led us to femme power play. All of the qualities that we expressed as feminine—from soft clothes to luscious scents to sucking cock—had belonged to all of us the whole time. I get why a cis dominatrix wouldn’t want to participate in forced feminization. I also get why many trans people, trans women in particular, find the existence of transvestitism to be so painful. When you have to fight so hard every day for the fundamental dignity and civil rights of your gender, it can be agonizing to see someone treat that gender as frivolous. Cross-dressing clients were often annoyingly reductive, like young adults on rumspringa, gorging themselves on the sugar high of femininity after being denied it for so long. It was clear to me that some of these fetishists liked cross-dressing sessions because it happened to be the variation on humiliation that their submissive tendencies had alighted on, emasculation being one of a hundred ways of having your social status lowered by a dominatrix. Others would have liked to wear dresses and bubblegum-flavored lip gloss more often, including in situations where they weren’t necessarily aroused. Still others weren’t actually cross-dressers at all, but closeted or crypto-transgender women. The kinky space was the only one they knew where they could be themselves using what they saw as a safe, private, and limited method. Some of them would transition eventually, and some would keep that part of themselves compartmentalized their entire lives. All three of these categories of person deserve the space to explore their gender expression through erotic fantasy.

Some cross-dressing fetishists are cis. Some trans women are butch. Some drag artists are straight. There’s no one way to do or be any of these things, and while we can experiment with identity through art and erotics, we shouldn’t conflate persona with personhood. Most importantly, trans people of all kinds deserve an existence that is both sexually liberated and not constantly sexualized. I would love to report that we have reached the point in the gender revolution where cross-dressing is redundant because there is nothing to cross. But erotics are still a viable way for us to explore who we really are, or would like to be.”]

tina horn, from why are people into that? a cultural investigation of kink, 2024

#tina horn #currently reading #gender stuff

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caffeinatedmunchkin · 2 months ago

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Nourishment, Beyond the Physical

Emmrich Volkarin x Fem!Rook ✦ Rating: M (MDNI!) ✦ 11.7k words

He almost didn't recognize the sound that came from him as his own; a whimpering, pathetic noise. Sick. The closest comparison to the feverish hue that rushed his clammy skin. The most apt identifier to the brutal, qualmish onset. He was a lot for her to take, though she'd have it no other way. The first time she laid with Emmrich he left her ruined, and never before had she submit to ruination with such abandon. He had the tendency of holding her needs paramount to his own. Now given the chance to return the favor, she offered herself to his exigency, unconditional and absolute. If he lost himself in her, so be it. She'd light the way back, like a beacon to ships in the night. And she'd piece him back together again. Such messy business - love.

Banner credit

Crossposted to AO3!

I had an out of state wedding, a death in the family, and double-shifts at work all week long, but none of that could STOP me from finally finishing whatever the hell this is. Inspired by the beautiful and wonderful Cole’s post here, this was one of the realest things I’ve ever read everyone say thank you Cole for being correct and being vocal about it !!

I honestly have nothing to say for myself, other than this was supposed to be no more than a quick and dirty drabble with a double shot of angst at best. Before I knew it, this thing grew legs and booked it. I hope you're as exhausted by the end of reading it, as I am now having finished writing it. I've been working on this one for a minute.

I love you all so much, and I pray to whoevers listening that you like it !!

The last gasp of winter stained his high cheeks, and nipped his nose. Blistering gusts whistling past his ears, the frigidity cut through the wool of his coat with icy talons; swiping at any and all that strode along in it's wake. Spurred by desperation it to cling to it's dwindling reign, as it slipped from it's clutches a little more with each day.

An early evening that marked the start of Wintersend, the suns retreat came later and later, yet the chill in the air refused its dismissal.

Emmrich was but one casualty of few who walked the thawing domain this time of night, having traced this exact path through Nevarra's streets many times.

An ordinary stroll home, after an unassuming day back within his classroom. During the middle of a week that was decidedly without note.

No stranger to the Necropolis's unforgiving temperatures, the elements outside it's walls throbbed bone deep. The bitterness raw, whereas the former was tempered.

A flush of nostalgia was quick to warm him, as he passed the storefront of the florist he had seen prior to his escapades with the Veilguard, Safeia.

She was delicate and attentive with their romance; he felt tended to, like one of her prized blooms. While their affair was as lovely, it wasn't meant to last. Just as the crisp of spring wilted to summers swelter, the annual that was their courtship neared it's end.

They wanted different things out of life, out of their partners. Gentle as she was considerate, their release of one another saw her wistful, but to the same end of her understanding. Their parting amicable, they sometimes bumped into one another around the city. Only ever having gratefulness to offer, in their exchanged nods, and kind smiles.

It allowed him to appreciate the flower shop every time he passed it by, more anxious than ever for the approach of springtime. To see budding greenery overflow through doors she liked to prop open, inviting the mellow sweetness of the air, and prospective patrons alike. His memory of her, just as the woman herself, was always perfumed by fresh soil, and Freesia.

A pleasant smell for a pleasant recollection, Emmrich held nothing but fondness as he thought back to his time with her, however brief.

Spring his favorite season, no one's anticipation for its arrival was greater. Though winters stubbornness held firm, he had his own, personal little slice of spring every day. Waiting for him back home, to where he was en route.

Yet as he strode past, the gentle smile that crept across his face was not for the florist.

Nor was the accompanying tightness in his chest for the anticipation of her floral arrangements that would soon line the windows.

It was for his destination, and his newfound eagerness to reach it. Eagerness that quickened his gait along the paved walk.

All for the woman who awaited him there. Milk and honey in her kiss. Petal curved, and satin soft.

The one who gave him reason to return at the end of each day, instead of idling at one shop or the next, stalling the loneliness that used to receive him.

The one he wanted to be back to, even more than he wanted to stop and admire Safeia's blossoms.

The one who made his house a home.

It was their first of this holiday spent together, and as a couple proper. Far away from the horrors of the blight, and genocidal elven gods that sought the worlds destruction. Though it was a morbid little thought, he couldn't help but pay due credit to those horrors. Stowing aside that guilt and selfishness, it was what brought he and Ariadne together, after all.

Without that interference - be it fate or coincidence or dumb luck - he may have spent the rest of his days without ever knowing the resplendence of her affection. Fierce and unbridled, just like the young necromancer was herself.

Many months had passed since then. Returned to Nevarra, he brought Ariadne back home with him, and brought her back for good.

After the expected reluctance, and no small sum of bluster, the order had agreed to reopen the case of her transgressions. All at his insistence, of course.

Insistence that expressed in no uncertain terms the thorn he'd pose in the sides of not only his colleagues, but the nobility whose favorable relations they prioritized, in the event it fell on sudden deaf ears.

It was almost comical, the utterance of Watcher Ingellvar shifted from the air of an ill-favored black sheep, to one of high esteem in but a blink.

With impressive restraint, Ariadne waited until she was given a formal pardon - as well as an invitation to return to their fold - before taunting with flippant indecision. Exaggerated hemming and hawing, as to whether or not she'd deign to grace their ranks with her presence once more. All through a cloying simper.

Emmrich expected no less.

Prior to his sabbatical, the right of Emmrich's predominant dwelling belonged to the Upper Mortuary, though he owned more than one property.

The Volkarin Estate in the heart of the Nevarran countryside made for an exceptional holiday retreat, and little else. It's distance from the obligations and responsibilities of his day to day made for an impractical primary residence.

It only made sense to whisk her away to his town home, tucked within the city walls on the upper-east side.

Accessible to both the Necropolis, and the tamer portions of the city he frequented, his private niche sat adjacent a sprawling botanical garden. A regular haunt of his, he now had a beautiful young blonde to steal away with amongst the orchids and delphiniums upon their return.

The space of this lodging was always meant for more than just one. Three spacious stories that boasted multiples rooms, each spanned a near obscene amount of square footage, when compared to its occupant; a single, lone necromancer.

So she came to live with him. No theatrics, or pondering. Just emphatic agreement, in the form of the arms she threw around his neck and wound tighter than a copper coil.

All that remained was for them to begin again, anew. To lay the foundation for the life they'd share; and theirs was a quiet one. Their mutual appreciation for that stillness the axis on which they thrived.

Ordinary strolls home, after unassuming days, and weeks without note.

Taking full advantage of her new status, she'd slink through the Necropolis' halls whenever the mood struck, otherwise her appearances were to surprise him. Luring him to the memorial gardens to share the lunch she'd prepared.

True to her reputation, she caused quite the stir amongst his pupils, much to the chagrin of their fellow superiors.

Legs folded beneath her in the grass while her lap cradled his head, his lank stretched along the ground beneath him in comfort. Rattling off the adjustments to his syllabus he was entertaining for the next semester. Or reading aloud to her the poetry of the late Nadia Ulpius, his possession of such rarity all thanks to their dear Neve.

During which she'd hum, and comb her nails through his hair, mindful to go with it's styled pattern, so as to not muss a single strand. Halting his prattling only to lift a strawberry, or wedge of clementine, to his lips for a bite.

Believing themselves to have ample privacy situated behind their preferred tomb, he had made the mistake - for the first and last time - to suck the juice from her finger-tips. Damning impropriety for long enough to indulge a throaty rumble, his tongue lapped the pads of her fingers and lacquered nails in suggestion.

Only to bolt upright once the giggles from some of his first year students burned his ears, rigid with mortification. Clustered and whispering to one other with fervency a little ways off, their distance suggested a discretion that didn't match their prying eyes, and craned necks.

From then on their lunch dates never went behind the walls of his classroom. Door shut and the shades drawn.

Of course it didn't deter Ariadne from trying her best to persuade him back. His romantic involvement with her was every bit as tantalizing as one would expect, and she delighted in the scandal of it all, the wretched little vixen that she was.

It had been only a few days since her last drop-in, but already he'd been spoiled by her presence there, natural as it was familiar. Though she had dashed any hope of the sort for that day, with the litany of errands she recited over breakfast, it didn't prevent his longing for her little figure to saunter through his door all the same.

Before he knew it he was rounding the corner of his block, spotting the lit candles that dressed the south facing windows of their home; the glow combating the dreariness with soft glints through the glass. Beckoning him back to her, like a beacon to ships in the night.

As Emmrich approached their front door, the steady thrum in his chest then soured, no longer weightless with his reminiscing. A once placid heartbeat, it jerked with every step he took that closed the distance.

No warning, no immediate trigger made obvious, as he thought of his little Watcher, and their home together.

They were now on the other side of the insurmountable odds they bested. Together at long last, and happy. The sap in him liked to attribute such things to fate, their story mirroring that of the fairy-tales Bellara had introduced to their book club.

He got the girl in the end. Even though she wasn't promised to him.

Nothing of their future was.

But if his experience with fate taught Emmrich one thing, it was that she was nothing if not a cruel mistress.

Simple, unadorned contentedness appealed to him more and more in his later years. He appreciated the little things; the magic in the mundane. Now having achieved such fortune, it only increased his anxiety that he would lose it.

Just as his fear of death had slithered it's way in when he was at his most unsuspecting, this startling new and very unwelcome loathing had roused when he lost her to the Fade, all those months ago. Her return should have seen it snuffed, but it continued to flicker, faint yet undying.

While he couldn't deny the predictability of such a turn, that was a beast he kept caged in the dark.

He tried to quell it by the way he hugged her a little tighter than he did before, and for longer than either of their full schedules would permit.

He thought to soothe it by staying up later than her, if only to watch her eyes twitch, and her lashes flutter in dreams. Tracing her clavicle, before resting his palm above her heart, stilling himself to it's mesmeric beating.

Able to take a breath in their bed; knowing that the heart that pulsed against his touch was indeed right there alongside him, to be cherished. To be held.

Foolish habits of a foolish man.

He blew in through the front door with an energetic burst of the cold, it's final stab at domination. Pulling the knob with a firm hand, he shut it out, denying it further infestation.

"Emmrich?"

Her call to him echoed the latch as it tumbled with a click. Surmising her to be in the kitchen, if the sugared aroma that tickled his nose upon entry was any indication, it returned his smile.

As did his fears subside. A flaming torch thrust into the snarling face of the beast, banishing it back into the fetid depths from whence it dragged itself. Back behind lock and key.

He was home.

"-Only me, darling." He called back, dropping his shoulder to let the strap of his satchel fall down the length of his arm. Beginning to shrug out of his coat, light foot falls pranced the distance of the hall runner behind him before he pulled out of the first sleeve.

"I missed you today." Ariadne then at his side, she pinched his coat sleeve to help it the rest of the way off.

"And I you." The elf poised on the very tips of her toes in a wordless request for a peck, one that Emmrich was already stooping down to steal. "How did your day treat you? Did those errands keep you very busy?"

"It was all wonderfully dull, thank you for asking." She beamed, relishing mundanity's pace. "What about yours?" Grasping his coat collar, she shimmied it from around his shoulders. "All went well?"

"Very well indeed. My junior apprentices have made remarkable progress, and their aptitude for psychometry continues to astound." He watched as she collected his jacket and bag, and left him for only as long as it took her to hang them up for the next morning.

His look of pride then struggled. "Though, while the subject presents, some have developed a worrisome habit of... oh, how shall I phrase this... enquiring on matters most private. In regards to myself, and my amorous displays with a certain elven Watcher."

Ariadne's lips pulled into a grin, and though her back was to him, he could hear it hugging her words. "Sounds like their fantasies have been piqued."

Back on him twice as fast, she knotted her fingers into the ends of his scarf to coax him back down to her. And he allowed himself to be, her fiendish simper spreading. "Surely you, least of all, are no stranger to some smitten pupils."

His grimace taut, it strained his usual velvet timbre to loose gravel. "They look at me as though I'm some roguish heartthrob straight from a pulpy Minrathous serial."

"Well, I can hardly blame them," she sighed with a bat of her long lashes, chest pressed to his abdomen as she continued to sag against him. "You really are quite dreamy."

"I've no doubt that my stunt in the gardens will shadow my academic career to an indefinite end."

She leaned back for a better view of the grave face angled down at her, one that didn't crick her neck so. For all his lamentation, his eyes sparkled.

"My perfect gentleman, assuming all the credit?" Her tease curled through a wicked pout, the saccharine purr of 'my perfect gentleman' dripping from the tip of her tongue like caramelized sugar, sticky on his teeth and heavy in his stomach. "I played a hand in that one myself, need I remind you."

"Your culpability needs no reminding, my dear." Rocking back to her toes, he seized the opportunity to snake an arm around her waist, sweeping her back into him with a wickedness all his own. "Nor does your insatiability."

A spot of flour dusting her nose caught his eye, it's placement looking purposeful. Spidery digits cupping a rosy cheekbone, he reached forward to brush it away with his thumb, though not before she squeaked from his frozen touch.

"You're as cold as death." She tsked, a flurry of fingers reached up to swipe across his cheeks and temple. He couldn't fight his smile if he wanted to. Emmrich leaned into her, savoring the infectious spread of her body-heat. Her nose crinkled in just the way he adored, murmuring as she fussed. "I'll go run you a hot bath."

"Lovely of you to offer, my darling, though unnecessary. I'll warm up before long." Without breaking their gaze, he turned to lay a kiss into her palm, as it continued to rub the chill from his blushed skin. "That aside, I'm much too interested in that exquisite scent wafting from the kitchen."

"Hmm? Scent?" Expert coyness he was now practiced to poke straight through, her efforts were all for naught, betrayed by the creep of her own sly grin. "What scent?"

Contentedness weighing as heavy on his lips as in his eyelids, he hummed in thought. "What ever are you up to?"

She wrinkled her nose; believable offense feigned, her grin persisted. "Do you always believe me to be up to something?"

Voice kicked into his chest, the abrupt lower in octave had her sway in his hold. "Not at all, my love. Only when you look as though you're up to nothing, is when I begin to suspect you're up to something."

"Wouldn't Neve be proud." Tittering as she slipped from his grasp, she gathered one hand in both of hers, toes planted behind her heel. "Come with me then, and close your eyes."

"Such secrecy." He mused, allowing her to disappear from sight as his eyes fell shut.

Spinning around, Ariadne began to coax him forward with a bounce to her bare step. Flitting a glance over her shoulder to make certain he followed instruction, her timing was precise enough to find his left eye slitting for a peek, only when he knew he'd get caught.

"Ah-!" She chided through a cheeky smirk. "Absolutely not, young man."

Emmrich did as he was told, though not before barking a deep chuckle.

Eyes shut, no so much as twitching to sneak a peep, he allowed his tiny elf to lead him by the hand from the foyer and down the main hall, into the kitchen that they shared. The fragrance strengthened the nearer they drew; something sweet, and still warm from the oven. He could lift the aroma of toasted hazelnut through a haze of fresh sugar paste.

It ghosted across his lungs in bittersweet familiarity, before it spread throughout the breadth of his chest at an alarming pace. Pooling around his heart, it roused an old, dull ache to spasm throughout the muscle. One he knew well, he hadn't felt it in quite some time.

Emmrich didn't need to open his eyes to know what it was.

A chair positioned for him at the table, she guided his tall frame down to take a seat. Traipsing to stand behind him, he felt her breasts against his back, as she gathered his tapered upper body into her arms. Linking them around his neck with fingers dangling against his buttons, her cheek came to rest at his temple.

"Alright." She cleared her throat, the words cracking under her anxiousness. "Now you may look."

The sight of a dessert came into view. A cake, propped up square in his field of view. But not just any cake, if his nose was to be believed.

His mother's hazelnut torte.

It's presentation was pristine. Centered on a black crystal server, the sides were smooth with the whipped silk frosting, though pebbled with crushed hazelnut, just how he liked. Swirled peaks dotted the circumference of the top, dusted with cardamom, and flecks of what appeared to be orange zest.

Both assembled and decorated with a diligent hand, Emmrich could scarcely believe it was crafted by the same one that blurred in a lackadaisical whirl when extending a whisk. Whose 'pinch's and 'dash's were more akin to 'handful's.

Baking was a precise art, and Ariadne, by her own admission, was an imprecise woman.

Mother Volkarin's Nevarran Hazelnut Torte was every bit the labor of love she feared, one that consumed the lion's share of her day.

The hands that brought one of her gods to his knees before her, were the same that shook as she folded the egg whites into the batter. Emmrichs written instruction to 'do so gently' so heavy in it's emphasis, she could hear the ink admonish her from the page.

The cakes almost cracked during the transfer from pan to cooling rack. She drizzled the espresso into the icing before it was whipped, curdling the chocolate in the process, so she had to make it twice.

An adept cook, that skill was much looser with the rules. It allowed for improvisation, and fudging. She could afford to be distracted, and make substitutions without worry.

They often alternated the role of cook, unless it was a shared evening off, in which case they did it together. A testament to their complimentary opposition, seamless cohesion while preparing a meal was not a feat just any couple could boast. But they could.

Baking allowed no room for error, and would punish even minor offenses without discrimination. So much as one under performing ingredient would see the whole suffer. Baking would sooner bite the hand of the uninitiated than show it grace. Not dissimilar to how a beast snaps at one unfamiliar, one that approached with unease.

It required focus. Dedication. Her full, undivided attention.

Judging by it's looks, she had done just that. Having gone through the endeavor for no other reason than to surprise him. To do something special for his favorite time of year. To let him know her adoration of him was boundless, and what she was willing to give went without limit.

Even if it meant baking from scratch.

The length of ring adorned fingers closed around her wrist almost twice over. He stroked the knob of bone there with brisk thumb strokes, as if to quell her doubts through touch, while he was too overcome that moment to speak.

"I know you're not one to spoil your dinner, but your secret'll be safe with me." She pulled away, lips curling to a kiss against his forehead. Tugging the scarf from his shoulders to fold in half, she peered at him sheepish and sidelong. Unwilling to rush him, but anxious for his validation in the same breath.

Those bright eyes of hers boring into him in impatient wait, Emmrich shook himself free of the beginnings of his spiral only as her gaze began to burn.

Finally inclined to speak, the words snagged against his throat, strangling his inflection with what what of his voice managed to escape.

"Forgive me my discourtesy, dearest, I'm... at a loss for the proper words."

Draping his scarf over the back of an empty chair, she came to his side again. "How about your improper words, then?" Taming her nerves, Emmrich clasped her hand and lifted it to his lips.

A soft snicker misted into her skin, before molding his pout to the valleys of her knuckles. Spine then erected, he intoned through an easy smile. "If it's all the same to you, I'd rather get on with spoiling my dinner."

She left him sitting there, alone with the torte, to fetch a plate and utensils. Shifting in his seat, Emmrich arranged himself over the side of it, one long leg crossed over the knee of the other. Turned away from the table to instead face her, she returned as if she had never stepped away.

He then eyed her as she placed the setting before him. Counting one plate between the two of them with a knit brow.

"Won't you join me?"

"I'll sneak a bite of yours." She teased, sinking the knife down in two clean, angled lines. Forming a neat triangle, she divulged where her motivations for such an act of service stemmed as she did.

"Lucanis told me when you gave him the recipe. I've been holding onto it for so long, I'd almost forgotten he'd given it to me." Lifting the wedge free, she plated it for him with ease. "It's only taken me so long to get around to because I saw you specified that your mother made it for you every Wintersend, and I wanted to do this properly."

Satisfied with the slice, she then passed it to him, trying to mask her shyness by babbling over it.

"I'm sure you could just make it for yourself perfectly well, but it's... different, I think, when it comes from someone else. Made for you, by someone who loves you." She continued to explain, and he continued his stunned silence. Willing himself to nod when appropriate, all else he could do was swallow hard against the cold lump in his throat.

A heaviness settled around him, but one that posed a comfort. Shielding. A hearty glass of mulled port on a frigid, lonesome night. That warded against the chill, and wrapped the heady spice of cinnamon and anise around his weariness, until it all melted away. An embrace of care. Of affection, and devotion.

For him, by one who loved him.

It patched another of his holes, one leftover from the accident. Another one of his empty gaps tailor-made for her shape, greedy to receive her. Left cold and open until she came along and filled it. No longer having a mother's doting, having been deprived of it at the tender age of old enough to suffer it's absence with appreciation.

Ariadne propped her hip against the edge of the table alongside where he sat. Arms folded, they then fell to twist her fingers at her naval.

Severing a piece with his fork that was both modest yet polite, Emmrich slid it between his teeth. Woefully heedless.

Until the taste settled.

Her fidgeting next balled fists at her hips, before dropping to hug herself around the middle.

Whipped frosting dissolved against the grooves of his tongue, and the airiness of the confection yielded to his thoughtful chewing in a slurry of rich mocha, coffee, and cream. All culminated with the barest hint of a crunch from pulverized hazelnut. With the first bite swallowed, he stilled.

Fingers knotted to keep still, she gnawed at her lower lip. Brows furrowed with an intensity that contrasted against her inhibition.

His stoic features twitched with pain, one that he fought to keep quiet.

Searching him for any signs of encouragement, he stared either directly into her - or through her - she wasn't certain. But it made little difference.

He didn't see her, or whatever it was he zeroed in on. Ever alert and keenly observant, Emmrich's look of foggy displeasure sank her heart to the pit of her stomach.

"That bad?" She offered in hesitation, as she steeled herself. Working her inflection gentle and light, he flinched against her words, as if her doubt struck him across the face. Her panic spiked.

Shutting his eyes, a harsh exhale flared his nostrils. And then nothing. Wound so tight and rocked stiff, not even his broad chest rose and fell with the rhythm of breaths.

She had tempered expectations.

Of course it would pale in comparison to his mother's, but surely her efforts would be appreciated, no matter how amateurish her attempt.

However he remained tensed, and aloof.

It bubbled resignation up her throat to spill between them, like a pot boiled over. Rushing to distance herself from the flicker of hope that she succeeded, only to retreat to forgone failure. Much more familiar to her, she burrowed in that experience, and sought it's shelter. "I know its not quite the same, but I did tr-,"

Breaking himself out of the reticence that held him captive, without addressing her - or even glancing back her way - he turned in his chair to face the slice head on, before he mauled it.

Wolfing it down like a man starved, he hunched over in his seat, no different from how a hound seeks to hide their bone from prying eyes before they gnaw it to shreds and marrow.

Ricocheting the fork back and forth between his mouth and the plate, not a hint of deviation, or break, in his ferine.

His heart throbbed by a chest that squeezed against it, intent to cave in. He didn't come up for air, not that his lungs would be able to suck it in against his body's constricting. Every part of him felt heavy and tender; the sore fatigue of succumbing to grief, after ignoring it for longer than it would tolerate.

The clinking of metal against the china was all the noise between them.

"Oh-," squeaked from her. One so quiet, he recognized it wasn't meant to be playful. He had startled her, just as he had himself.

Emmrich felt himself surrounded by her intent gaze, swelling with his every hurried inhale. Little muted whines were shook loose, before they were able to be strangled by his rabid mastication. With every one that groaned from the cavernous need he rushed to fill with her, the wider her eyes grew.

And the hotter her cheeks.

She couldn't fight the allure of when he presented so unrefined. To witness such vulnerability meant that she, and she alone, withheld the privilege of the one who he lowered his walls for. Ariadne offered to him her heart for his consumption, and he accepted. Selfish and with voracity, he took all she had to give, and it worsened his body's demand for more. It pulsed and twitched around a hollow hunger. One that would never be satiated, so long as she was near.

His teeth ground through her meaning behind the torte, as though the more earnest he was in savoring it, the closer he'd bind himself to her. The stronger the hit would be. The more potent the sense memory would cement itself, should he never get the chance for it again.

Should he ever lose her again.

A fool he was, to believe he reconciled the pain of being made to go without her.

Throbbing low and dull, it shared the space with his heart, and presented like an old scar. His body's hasty work to patch it saw it numbed and gnarled, stitched closed with a ragged touch before he bled out on the spot.

Unbothered to make it clean, or pretty. To lay nice beneath the skin so he wouldn't feel it there. To eventually fade away with time, like all the rest.

This picked it back open. Confronting him with the blood, and the mess. The beast found a weak spot in the cage.

And Emmrich kept eating.

His throat felt thick, and his molars buzzed. Head clotted and hazy from the rush of sugar, it wasn't enough discomfort to keep him from going in for more.

Until every crumb was devoured. Until his fork scratched empty plate. Only to then use the flat of it to scrape the smears of leftover frosting, he sucked it clean from the tines.

He didn't indulge in sweets often, not in a long while. And never like this.

It was like just his mother's, and it wasn't.

So different from how he remembered, yet it warmed him from the inside out, just as it did when he was a boy.

He detected her use of both rum and coffee in the icing, in place of the orange liqueur. A personal preference of his mother's in which her faithfulness was strict.

It tasted like Ariadne. Her bite. How she burned down his throat and boiled in his stomach. An addictive delight, tinged with the inescapable aftertaste of regret that plagued a treat. Something that tasted too good to resist, though he knew better.

Her heavy-hand, and decadence.

Her affection for him, overwhelming as it was unapologetic.

He didn't need his mother's torte. He needed hers. And now that he got a taste, he was ravenous.

It awakened something so deep-seeded within him he didn't recognize it at first. He didn't know how to appease it. Dredged from his depths, it ordered his acknowledgment with the same loud insistence that begged her consolation.

All he could do was reach for her.

He clawed at her hips with too much strength behind his nails, and yanked her into him. Blossoming a squeal that reached his ears, but went no further.

All but snatching her off her feet, Emmrich closed in to curl around her like a sniveling child. Burying his face in her abdomen, he wrapped himself around her in a plea for security only she could give.

He was the small and frightened boy, and the man he worked so hard to become in order to leave him behind, all at once.

Too tall and long-limbed to hide himself in her, it didn't stop him from trying.

The precious trivialities on which they'd built a life upon teased behind his squeezed lids.

Her call of his name through the door when he got in. How she hung herself from his neck, and gazed up at him with those soft brown eyes, like there existed an additional lifetime just for them to admire one another.

How he'd come into their bedroom from his morning bath, to her choice of his cuff links, or ascot for the day, laid out and ready for him. How serious she contemplated his wardrobe whenever he desired her input. A regular occurrence, as he delighted in the perk of her pointy ears when deep in consideration.

Cooking together. Wine blushing her cheeks and loosening her grin. Throaty giggles echoed into her glass at some-off hand remark of his that wasn't meant for laughs, but adoring it had done so.

Eating their meal in silence shared, for even their lack of conversation was a comfort.

Her nimble fingers gliding over the curve of his rump in a playful, yet possessive squeeze as she slipped past to goose him. Her preferred method of getting his attention.

How effortless she could communicate to him, the very same sentiment she spoke aloud just as often.

I love you.

The beast was loose, and it lunged straight for his weakness, snapping at the vestiges of his composure with it's slobbering maw. No longer would it be ignored.

Vision speckled and swimming, Emmrich blinked against it in hopes that would return his acuity, while his fingers curled their way around the waistband of her pants. A thin, clinging material, they goaded his ferocious weakness for the curvature of her hips and thighs. Soft, supple, full. Fecund. What of his faculties persisted, it was not near enough to stop him from yanking them down her legs.

Needing no further clarification of his needs, one of her hands hand grabbed for the meat of his broad shoulder to steady herself. Helping him pull her leggings the rest of the way in hurried accommodation, before kicking the pooled material from her feet.

Having forgone her underthings, a keening whine rattled his teeth at the discovery. Had it been any other time, he would have better expressed his appreciation for such boldness. Her womanhood bared to him, pink and puffy, he gazed at her and began to salivate, sugar still coating the inside of his cheeks.

Another time. When he didn't feel like he might have been ill if he didn't push himself inside her that very moment.

Naked from the waste down, he knocked the chair out from under him with a squawk of its feet skidding across tile. Clutching at the little elf, he sank to the floor, and dragged her down with him.

Scrambling to mount her, he insisted she lay down and open herself up to him; beyond mere words, but begged by way of how he pushed and pulled her.

Emmrich had weathered many romances and heart break, all of which conditioned his hands with an expertise that now failed him. Gifted with unspeakable adroitness with the body of a lover, those hands now shook and misfired, and with his own trousers, no less.

Directionless, he pawed her with brutish fumbling, grabbing at her everywhere and touching her nowhere. Breaths too tattered for blush-worthy adulation. Trembling with such force he was unable to free himself as quick as he needed, much less still himself long enough for a kiss, even one chaste.

Embarrassment had set for a myriad of reasons, though the feud with his clasps whipped him back to his first time - that sweet classmate of his, all those years ago - flushed and inexperienced.

A gangling lad on the edge of seventeen, not yet acquainted with his new height fresh off a growth spurt. Navigating his hormones and fledgling manhood with tragic ineptitude, that was, until Julian.

A strapping young man with the vibrancy of a midday sky in the blue of his eyes. The same height as Emmrich, he carried it so much better, having hit his metamorphosis much earlier. He moved with confidence, an attribute that both attracted Emmrich, and made him green with envy.

Julian kissed him sweeter than his perpetual mischievousness hinted. A biting wit softened to moaned praise. Assertive hands with an exploratory touch over Emmrich's wiry, virgin body. It was romantic in the way that young, puppy love often was; affection warm and dewy as early morning grass in mid summer, their romance carried through that season to the following.

Their end reached it's natural conclusion. He missed his companionship as he did the intimacy. But more seasons came and went, missing him a little less with each one. Dulling the sharp edges of his longing to rosy remembrance, like sand and waves to fragments of glass.

In that light, he held no pain, or grudges. How could he, when he had been left with something so beautiful from his first love? A memento forever treasured.

One shaking hand pulled himself through his slacks, having at last slipped the buttons free after much fervent appeal. Unable to take the time to fold the flaps out of the way, let alone remove his clothes, for his flaring need forbade any further delay.

Her breaths were just as uneven as his own. Hazelnut eyes full of assurance, and all for him, the sight had him twitch with a vengeance against the crease of his palm. Buried beneath his furious desideratum, he was almost appalled to feel himself erect with such ferocity. The sensitive flesh hot and angry grasped within his ringed fingers.

He shifted himself further up her body, seeking to align their sexes. Taking care not to rest too much of his weight atop her, the first nudge of his swollen crown to her folds saw him hiss at the sensation. She was ready for him. Despite the absence of proper foreplay, rubbing his length at the apex of her thighs, it came away puckered raspberry and drooling.

He found his little elf always seemed to be just a little primed for him, an affect of his presence he hoped would never calm with complacency.

A reality he accepted with shame, he could spare her no further attention, or prelude, driven mad with the urgency to be inside her.

His bruised head resting heavy at her entrance, he dropped himself between her spread thighs, and crammed himself in with a stuttered cant. A choked gasp ripped from him while he ripped his way through her, wet and guttural. Shuddering against her frantic contractions to his abrupt intrusion.

Ariadne arched up off the ground as far as the cage of his body allowed. A harsh yelp shot through her lips. The ringing in his ears deadened the blow, as it did the breathless cry of his name that followed, fragile and tumbling. Fingers grabbing at his drawn shoulders, she twisted the cotton of his shirt to anchor herself.

Time was on pause. A hush fell over them as he stalled on top of her, his thumping heartbeat nipping the heels of her own. Only once her dainty hands swept up and down his back, a pressure deliberate to stroke him still, did he realize he was trembling.

He was a lot for her to take, though she'd have it no other way. The sweet sting of his brunt hilted inside her was ecstasy unlike any she had ever tasted. The first time she laid with Emmrich he left her ruined, and never before had she submit to ruination with such abandon.

He had the tendency of holding her needs paramount to his own. Now given the chance to return the favor, she offered herself to his exigency, unconditional and absolute. Thrust as deep as her body's accommodation could withstand, with widened thighs and a nurturing caress, she welcomed his struggles as she did his prowess.

If he lost himself in her, so be it. She'd light the way back, like a beacon to ships in the night. And she'd piece him back together again.

Such messy business - love.

A quavering sigh seethed through grit teeth, her flutters were almost too tight to be comfortable. Emmrich began to rock himself in and out to stretch her to better fit his girth. Beginning slow and shallow, his thrusts were stilted, unwilling to peel himself away from her embrace long enough for proper gyration.

Their mismatched heights made for an already awkward coupling on the floor even more difficult. Her face tucked into his chest, the top of her head bumped into his chin with her every jostle forward. Steadied by forearms planted along either side of her, he shifted his weight to his lower body, throwing as much into the momentum of his frenzied canting as possible.

The otherwise respectable kitchen now invaded by obscenity, the slap of flesh drowned only by the cacophony of their sighs, and the shrill clatter of his grave gold against both itself, and the tile.

It wasn't romantic, or impassioned. It was distressed, and sloppy. A fast-spreading sickness of which this crude joining was medicinal. Her honey, her heat; the strength and tightness of muscle, that ushered him inside her plush depths. Seeking to knead him to better health.

All of his finesse - his artistry - when it came to making love abandoned him. Exiled to flounder in a shallow pool of desperation. An aspect of all his relationships of which his confidence was unshakable, he then felt like he was laying with someone he was unfit to touch.

Beautiful, dexterous fingers clawed at the floor in front of him until the tips blotched white from the pressure. Afraid to sink them into her, he knew the scratches left behind would taunt him for as long as they'd last.

Locking her ankles at the small of his back, she wrapped her arms around his back to hold him. Her furrowed brow twitching above eyes screwed shut, as he chafed her backside against the edge of tile bared from uneven grout.

"It's okay-, it's alright-," lilting in breathlessness, she fought his attempts to steal them with every snap of penetration. "Y-you're okay."

He hadn't felt such helplessness since his Orlesian artist, Anastriana. Lissome and mystifying, she was the first woman he'd ever seduced that made him feel as though he had to prove himself in order to keep her. Or rather, she was the first woman who'd seduced him.

She liked to claim conquests instead of lovers, and he managed to hold on to her for longer then she planned to string him along. Endearing her with his eagerness to please, his devotion to her needs.

Emmrich would have pried himself open with nothing but blunt finger tips in servitude, all to pluck a rib from its cage, if it might have won her approval. But her approval wasn't equal to her love.

He proved himself a dutiful marionette, one too amusing to put back in the cupboard.

Until the next came along, and he was no longer a befitting muse.

More a heinous co-dependency than it was a relationship. To think he'd been such a willful accomplice of his own heartbreak, when he disregarded the obvious, and asked for her hand. A request denied, and none too gently.

It ripped him apart. Leaving him bitter with wounded pride, and sullied by wild jealousy. Yet, even with how thorough his dismantling by her fickle whims, he remained the same. That pain, visceral as it was, fizzled and faded. Swept away by time, the sting a distant memory.

He had gained better sense alongside self-respect as he matured. Far more guarded with his partners thereafter, Emmrich offered them a scrupulous love. He didn't know any other way to be. If what he had to give wasn't enough, then it simply wasn't meant.

"E-Emmrich-," Her moans brought him back, puffed against his collar bone as she squeezed her thighs against his hips. Her pelvis pinned under his, it wriggled in attempt to match his rhythm, but she couldn't follow a lead he didn't provide.

Withdrawn fully into himself, huffing and grunting as he rut her into their kitchen floor, still she sang for him, as if he were worshiping her the way he should. "F-feels so nice-," she sobbed, perhaps just as far gone herself. Toes curling and heels dug into his low back, her whimpers broke against his ear, finding him through the thundering of his blood, and the roar of his heart. "You're perfect - so perfect-,"

The haughty, bejeweled visage of Anastriana was exiled back to the cobwebbed annexes of his psyche where she belonged. A ghost of his past that deserved internment for what of his mind she saw fit to besiege.

He no longer looked to dissect himself, and discard the more unsavory bits. He'd never again rearrange his parts for a lovers favor.

But for Ariadne?

She'd sooner clap him against the cheek for daring to suggest such a thing, though his inescapable truth remained. The deeper in love he fell, the more certain he was of his unworthiness to have her.

Not with all his flaws. The very same unsavory bits he had been so self-righteous of before her.

Be it by shame, or neediness, he wanted to hide. Sheathed inside her as he was, the urge was demanding.

He couldn't bury himself at her neck in their current position. Stopping just long enough to shift to his knees, the joints bruised and aching from the press of the tile, she stuck to him like a leech. Refusing to detach for even that terse beat of readjustment, claws sunk and legs like a vice.

The first time he glimpsed her face since before they began, her eyes watered above cheeks smeared rogue. Loosened tendrils of silvery blonde clung to her forehead and wrapped around the front of her throat, she mewled up at him like a submissive kitten. The luster of her sex drunk haze heightened by how her pupils spilled across the irises.

Hoisting her up with him to keep her hips flush in his lap, his palms slid up along her back to grip her by her traps. Hunched over, he retreated within the crook of her neck, before rolling his hips in earnest.

His pants huffed against her throbbing pulse, the fingers he had been so worried about hurting her with prior, now bit down into her shoulders to hold her still. To keep her steady as he overwhelmed her with his gluttony.

Messy and without coordination, his heft pushed at the velvet confines of her channel, the ridges clenched tight around his every spear.

Wetness then leaked against the spot on her where he nuzzled. The gallop of her heart was all that protected it from breaking.

Though it was he who helmed this onslaught, Emmrich twisted himself around her with staggering necessity. A needful, clinging tender spot, and no more. Afraid the moment he eased up, she'd fade to nothingness beneath him. Ripped from a dream, the most beautiful he'd ever known.

"Darling, please-," He rasped into her skin, slick with perspiration and stray tears. "Don't- don't leave me."

His inner torment had been plain, but to hear it thicken his tone; so small and despondent, alarm sheared through her like cold wind.

"W-what?" Battling her own disorientation, bleary eyes blinked up at the ceiling, her grasp on him curled tighter. "What are you-t-talking about?"

Ariadne didn't make his townhouse their home. She was home. His home. A home that was taken from him long ago.

One he didn't have the stomach to lose. Not again. Never again.

And he almost had.

But not that dread. That only metastasized.

The sour taste at the back of his throat. Shaking and sweat-dampened in the middle of the night, pawing at her side of the bed to make sure she was still there.

The very thing he wanted most of all had been snatched away from him the moment he received it, and all before he could even recognize it for what it was. Their last argument echoing inside his head without end, his weaknesses and insecurities blinded him from what had been waiting there for him all along. Yet there he was, trying to reject what he had craved all his life. Perhaps the beast had been there from the start.

He could have drowned in that thought if he stayed in it any longer.

Grief was funny that way.

Unpredictable as it was unavoidable. The first week she was gone, Emmrich remained strong. Focused on what he needed to do in order to get her back, he busied himself with optimism, however contrived.

Neve began to visit him those nights in the beginning, when sleep refused them both, and cast each away.

She touched his shoulder as if the company was for his sake, but the bags beneath her eyes conveyed her struggles equaled his own. Telling him that burden was one shared.

"How are you holding up?"

"About as well as your estimations, if the look on your face is to give you away. Though truth be told, I fear I'm faring not even half as well." He attempted a chuckle, but the mirth that would have lent to it's credibility refused to surface with it, rending it a scratchy, parched wheeze. One he hadn't the bandwidth to smooth over, or excuse by that time of the night. "I'm... well."

Whether he said it to convince her, or himself, neither were sold.

The ice mage peered up at him with a tilt of her head. An invitation for him to unload. "And you know it's alright... not to be?"

"Of course..." He declined her lifeline with a tired smile, the sheen of his gaze intensified as it unfocused. "Though it would be of use to no one should I pander to such selfishness, to waste precious time wallowing. Least of all to... her." His throat closed around the acknowledgment, as if speaking about her would jinx her return.

Neve uttered a small noise of agreement from the back of her throat, before gesturing towards the spiral staircase. "Shall we, then?"

The two would set out on his balcony like weary sentinels amidst the starry night. Solemn in their silence, they were each granted a moment in the company of a friend, simply just to be. A break from having to pretend.

She'd offer her cigarette each time, and each time he abstained.

For about the first three evenings.

Catching his stolen, longing glances, and interpreting them as curiosity. An oversight she fast rescinded, for when he accepted it from her, he pulled the burn into his lungs without hesitation. His fluidity betrayed a practiced ease that hinted to an old - or secret - habit. With a taut bob of his Adams apple, he shut his eyes and tipped his head back.

Neve watched with a smirk, as Emmrich blew it back into the night a steady, flattened stream from between his lips, the smoke tugging with it a noise from him. A hum that bordered on a groan, and throaty with relief. It was one she knew well.

"I see you've met before."

"Oh yes, my dear, we're well acquainted. An admission I scorn the taste of almost as much." A hoarser edge snagging his signature silk, he rushed his next drag, and the acridity furled to mild retaliation within his rusty throat. Waving away the quick burst of a cough, he shook his head at himself with a smirk that more earnestly wanted to be a sneer. "Old friends turned adversaries, I dare say."

So became their ritual. Most nights saw them together on his balcony, passing her quellazaire back and forth about as often as their weak words of conciliatory encouragement. Whenever one would find it within themselves to proffer to the other.

Ever tactful, Neve opted to continue sharing hers, to perhaps lessen the blow of his relapse. He was as grateful for her discretion as he was her empathy.

The first week was like wading through wet cement. Every step forward a battle, he held tight to his vigilance, if only for Ariadne.

The second week was when it began to harden.

They had been moving at a break-neck pace, careening down their path quicker than they could formulate the next plan of attack. And then she was gone, and everything halted. Now idle, he had a little more time to think. To dwell.

It smothered him. Everything did. Waking, walking, breathing. A constricting pressure seeking faults so that it may get him to crack, in the form of steady, unhurried fear. The fear that no progress had been made. That she still wasn't back.

His presentation deteriorated a little more each long day that bled into the next. The circles around his eyes darkening, his stubble grown out from days unbothered to shave it. Though he held himself together with little more than threads of the hope, he held tight to them still. Regardless of how tattered.

Neve shortened the time between her visits to his balcony.

Before long, the length of those days strung him right along into the third week.

That milestone a bitter one to accept, the beast then came knocking.

Before it's arrival, he loathed being in his room at the lighthouse alone; for the whispers of their argument slithered through the air in suffocation whenever he opened himself to that vulnerability. With the beast taking that place, he would have welcomed those taunting echoes back with open arms.

It reached for him like a shadow stretching across the ground, its inevitability lurking in his periphery. In the dark corners of her quarters, when he ventured there to sit alone, and breath in her smell.

It sunk its claws into his feet and dragged him down, down, down. Into himself, into self-destruction, into agony so old and familiar it hurt just to look at it. A malignancy he believed to be bested rearing in spite.

It knew Emmrich, and knew him well. It had been a long time, but they had a history. The longer and harder Emmrich looked it in the eye, did the horrified realization dawn.

I know you. And it can't be you. It cannot be. You only come when... and she can't be...

To say he looked haggard from thereon was a kindness. Iron scruff covered his jaw, sunken in and hollow with starvation. He raked fingers through his hair over and over again, leaving it to stick up in erratic tufts that he never tamed back into place, no matter how often he threaded them through it.

By then, when Neve came calling for their regular commiseration, she discovered he'd taken to starting without her.

Perseverance no longer saw fit to bestow him it's mercy.

He turned to face her with bloodshot eyes. His tall height halved as he bent at the waist and slouched over the rail, his perfect posture disintegrated along with his nerve.

The stub of his second consecutive cigarette dangled from his shadowed frown. Without a word uttered, he snapped fingers out towards her, producing a spark between them, as a small flame appeared. Hovering above his fingertips, at the ready to light her up.

Heavy lidded eyes, they were glassy with the tears he denied himself. The top few of his buttons yanked loose, while his waist-coat hung wide open. Just so he could breath.

He had been doing so well.

Having spurned fate at numerous points throughout his life, childish as it now seemed, the frequency of the habit across all his combined years paled in comparison to those dreadful weeks.

And then, as vicious and greedy as it was; as much as it took from him, it at long last returned.

She was back.

One unassuming day. During the middle of a week that was decidedly without note.

All he could do was hold her close, and steady himself to the beat of her heart. Sighing into the top of her head how relieved he was she was back, over and over again. And he was.

They hadn't the time then for proper acknowledgment, or the right words. Already on borrowed time, and he'd squander none of it on dwelling over his anguish.

She was given back to him. And there was a god to kill.

So Emmrich laid to rest the horrifics of how he suffered in a shallow grave, one neither visited.

Why now, after all this time, after she was returned to him for a life shared, a life just beginning - why now did he see fit for its desecration?

Why couldn't it stay buried?

Somehow she managed to draw it out from him. That wound gaping once more, all either could do at that moment was let it weep. For where there was blood, coagulation would soon follow.

And then the sting would dull to an ache. An ache could be ignored, could be carried. Could be learned to live with.

That grief stripped him to his bones, weary and frail. And she cradled them. Shielding them from the hard floor, and using the heat from her own body to warm them. She looked at him no different from how she did when he was at his suavest, at his strongest. At his best.

The tragedy of his parents death shaped him, an inevitability in his story.

But those weeks where he never knew if he'd see Ariadne again, the fragmented echoes of their argument left unresolved, hers would be a loss that would define him.

And then she was back. Safe in his arms. Constant in his heart.

Emmrich spoke firmer, almost a growl. Sharpened with indignation, the words still shook with the tenuous resolve of agony just barely held at bey. "Don't ever leave me, ever again."

She laid there for him, clutching the hair of his nape her fingers thread through. Thinking to assuage him, the act of speech was was a challenging one. The mass of him stuttering into her, every time she opened her mouth, all that knocked from her were gasps.

As though she were fighting against the waves of a sea as they broke over her head, cold and unrelenting. Pushing her back, pushing her away. She hushed into the air in hopes he'd be able to hear.

"I'm-here," choked it's way out against his rutting. "I-It's alright-Emmrich- I'm here."

It wasn't enough. Unconvinced, his thrusts met her harsh and jagged. "I can't lose you, not again I-I'm not- I'm not strong enough, I-"

Far more stubborn than the two of them combined, she pulled him from his hiding place and down into a hug. Forcing him to feel her sincerity through the strength of her embrace.

Shielding him from the beast that snarled in wait.

"Not even death could keep me from you." Bruising him with the weight of dedication too heavy to hold, she begged for his trust. "I promise you, I'll never leave you again."

Usually just before release he quickened, and his movement became focused. Purposeful. This time he slowed, trying to savor her, or stall himself from too quick a release. But it was too late. Rigor had settled. He could feel the little tremors throughout his muscles as they burned. That coil seated behind the root of his cock began to un-spool with the finality of an over-tensioned wire then clipped.

"Ari-," somewhere between a hiccup and a sob, it was low and needful, and unexpected in the best of ways. If she wasn't darling, or love, or my dear - she was Ariadne. Proper, and with much reverence. He had never before called her just Ari.

Deepening the rosy hue that prickled over her every inch, it wound him tighter in her arms. To say that she knew. She understood.

As quick as it mounted, it all toppled over.

A harsh prickle behind his eyes that swept from left to right, the spasms held his lids shut. Not that he would have wanted her to look into them, even if he could fight his body to hold them open.

He emptied inside her, unable to hold it back. A sluggish release, one that seemed to worsen his inner malady as it oozed. Shaking like a wet dog and growing nauseous with the dawning of what he had just done, Emmrich didn't wait for his breath to return before falling over himself in apology.

"Oh, my darling, I-I... -forgive me, I-,"

"Don't you dare." Her tone as firm as the adoration that imbued it. "Of all the things you've sought forgiveness for, that is about the most foolish."

Emmrich felt as sensitive and needled as a nerve rubbed raw, and looked twice as battered, struggling for breath that stuck to the air too humid and thick for his lungs. He had just crashed through the final stage of grief, knotted inside her as he was. Right there, on the kitchen floor.

He thought to roll them to the opposite position, but he feared movement. He still felt everything, and entirely too much.

"Foolish habits of a foolish man." He winced upon hearing himself without the tinnitus to muffle it. Gruff beyond recognition, a raw voice belonging to someone else. In that suspension of sobriety, he very much wished he was.

"Mmm, my foolish man." Her correction loving, her arms draped lazily around his neck, peering up at him glossy eyed and meek.

Humiliation digging at his back, he peered down at her with too grim an expression for all their common vulnerability. "May I... make a confession?"

Her own face fluttered a little as it softened. "Please do."

A palm at her cheek, her crystalline gaze was alight with sincere infatuation. His tongue stalled, hesitation slithering back in. The beast heeled, but still breathing down his neck.

Would he tell her of how he couldn't eat when she disappeared? That scarcity rivaled only by his lapse in personal hygiene? Would he crush that blinding acceptance she basked him in, as he told her how often he had lost his temper with Manfred?

Or that in his withdrawal of her, he thought the dry bitterness of tobacco a worthy substitute for her sweetness? That he replaced one addiction with the other, as if his relapse reduced her to no more than a vice. One he was forced to quit, one he had to reconstitute.

No, he couldn't allow her to visualize him in such a way. Though the jaws of the beast would not unlatch until it was appeased, lest he be left with those punctures for the rest of his days, hot and festered, like wounds that wouldn't close. With a deep breath, he lowered his gaze to the space of her chest that covered her heart. Trained to it's rise and fall, instead of looking her in the eye.

"All this time I thought ill of fate; thinking it cruel to have lead me to you so much later in my life. But I was wrong. It wasn't cruel, but merciful. I've been left behind to live on in the absence of those I loved most. I could not... do that again. Not with you." His utterance just above a whisper. "Not again."

The dour severity of his words flustered her. "That's very sweet."

"Rather disconcerting of you to perceive that declaration as such." He shook, eyes wide and head hung in defeat. The ruefulness of his inflection cut through them both. "I'm a weak man, Ariadne. A coward."

"And I'm a horrid little woman." She all but groaned.

He drew back with a blink. A more familiar, perplexed look settled into the lines of his face, one she was ever grateful to see back on him.

She hadn't meant to snap, but it startled him out of self-loathing long enough to allow for reason. At the very least, their eyes had finally met. "While we're exchanging confessions I have something of my own, if you'll hear it."

Emmrich urged her on, wordless. The pallor in his face receding.

"If I died tomorrow, I'd haunt you for the rest of your days." The mischievous twinkle was unable to mask her honesty, one she was none too proud of. "I know I'm supposed to say that I'd want you moved on and happy, but I'm viciously jealous."

To what she offered, he scoffed, though not one of contempt, or ridicule. That candor of hers brought him solace, one he was gracious to accept. A fullness in his heart, a balm to that nagging ache that throbbed low and steady when she was gone. A piece of it missing in the shape of her, he was then strong enough in acceptance that it was back.

Steadfast, and unequivocal.

As was a different nagging he had been trouble by on and off, in the months following their homecoming. It was far less monstrous, though it frightened him much the same.

Though the way she gazed up at him with those big, brown eyes confronted him with a decision then made. That his rationale for its evasion was unfounded.

He could think of no better time than now, tangled in one another on the floor, as bared to her as he'd ever been.

True to his creed, he didn't dissect himself to rearrangement. He ripped himself open and let her see it all; the ugliness, the cowardice, the unsavory bits. The parts of him that begged recoil, the parts to be shunned. He bared it all. A soul laid naked and plain in oblation. All he had to give.

Should she accept, it would be hers. Forever and always.

And Emmrich knew better than most the rot of things left unsaid, how they lingered like a restless spirit when their time came to an abrupt end, and it was too late to voice them.

"Marry me?"

Clawing it's way through a tight throat that sought to cage it, the blurted plea left him breathless. Hanging between them, tender and exposed.

There was no grand romance. No honeyed poeticism, or candlelight dinner. Not the way Emmrich had expected it might be. Not the way he felt she deserved. It was coarse and raw, just as she made him feel.

Then again, he knew the little Watcher better than that.

She'd always prefer unrefined sincerity, to overwhelming sentimentality. Perhaps this was just as it should be.

No matter the dressing, whether there were dozens of candles - or not one - the promise was the same. The words themselves were the heavy lifting. She trembled beneath them.

"I-," her words caught, and she winced. A blush pooled outward from the bridge of her nose, and moisture webbed across her eyes that only broke over her lashes when she tried to will it away. She continued to blink, looking to hide her face as fresh tears welled to replace the old. "You want a horrid little woman for a wife?"

"Does she love the weak, cowardly man?"

"Point that man out and she'll tell you." She sniffed, allowing for silence to coalesce between them as she collected herself. Though the importance of the request was one that ordered immediate response, he felt weightless as she kept him waiting for it.

"Ariadne Volkarin." Her breath hitched at the taste of the title in full, the flutter of her heart kicked to dizzying thumps with every syllable, every press of her tongue to her teeth. Trying it on for size.

A name she'd be honored to bear.

The first name she'd been offered. And not because there was simply no one else for her to be, but because he wanted her to be no one else.

"Ariadne Volkarin." He repeated, a hoarseness to his deep inflection. "My love... I must burden you once more with a confession, one I'm far more hesitant to impart."

Eyes widened to saucers, they glistened with delicate tears she did well in blinking back. "Oh?"

"I... I don't have a ring." Brows bowed, frown sheepish, resignation muddled his cadence.

Her gaze still blown and shining, it fixed on him, unflinching.

And then she laughed. Breathy, gentle, and blessedly reassuring.

"Does that mean I can't accept your proposal?"

A pressure closed around his heart and squeezed. Unbearable, he could have lived a lifetime in that heartache all the same. "Do you?"

"Yes." Her touch light and trembling, she guided his head down to rest his forehead against hers. When next she spoke, it was no more than a whisper, and a reflection of his frailty she handled with such care. "I do."

Tagging as per request: @pinkuranium @goddessnyx216

#im so dumb im literally shaking as i post this ahhhh #emmrook #emmrook smut #emmrook angst #emmrich volkarin #emmrich volkarin romance #emmrich volkarin smut #emmrich volkarin angst #emmrich volkarin fanfic #emmrich volkarin fanfiction #emmrook fanfic #emmrook fanfiction

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irndad · 11 months ago

Note

Flower prompt request for Spencer Reid please!!!

Arbutus combined with Freesia.

And if you wanna add in something suggestive or downright filthy, there will be no complaints! (Or just a heartfelt fluff fest)

Thank youuuuu! (Will totally understand if you aren’t interested though!)

-🌕

hi!! this is sfw but here u go!! i hope you enjoy!! requests r open <3 flower prompts

Something’s wrong with her.

Not wrong, of course. Quite the opposite, really. She looks beautiful, a swipe of a purplish red on her pretty lips, a cowl neck dress wrapped around her form like a well-made glove. She’s a vision, and he adores looking at her- he doesn’t get the chance as often as tonight. While they get the chance to talk on the plane (when no one else is sleeping) or at the bar after cases, but this- this is an entire night she’s spent by his side.

He normally doesn’t like when the FBI does these galas, but they’re fundraising, and now his beautiful coworker who’s a little more than that is drinking rosé out of a thin stemmed wine glass. He adores the sight of her.

“You okay?” He hears himself say, and there’s a beat of silence before she looks up from her beverage, and smiles a false grin at him.

“Right as rain, Spencer.” She grins back at him, leaning back on the table they were standing by.

“You’re acting different,” he says, “You’ve been quiet, and you seem distant from the team. You didn’t have any of the cupcakes Penelope brought in, either.”

“I didn’t want too much sugar in the morning!”

“Now, that is a lie.” He finds himself smiling at her when he says it. Things move naturally with her, have a flow of conversation that takes no effort, only gentle enjoyment.

She really does look so pretty. This is a factual thing Spencer has noticed- a fact of her that he would be blind not to see. It’s evolutionarily advantageous to want to look at beautiful things. It doesn’t mean anything.

She sighs fondly down into her glass, her breath causing ripples in the wine.

“Can I tell you something?” She says, and it shocks him. He feels a bit like an insider, and adores the feeling of being on the inside of a secret of hers. He’d like to be someone she tells things to.

He nods, awaiting with baited breath.

“I went out with this guy who’s here tonight.

Suddenly he doesn’t feel so warm.

Except, it shouldn’t bother him- they’re not dating. She’s beautiful, all soft lines and curve, lovely blooming smiles and kind-heartedness, and he’s a pipe cleaner with eyes. It’s not a thought he’s entertained-

But still, in this moment, Spencer’s not blind to the image they’re projecting. Hanging back at a party, low lighting and hushed conversation, her in a beautiful dress and him in a rented tux- he could see how someone could mistake the two of them for- for something.

Did he want that?

“Spence?” She shakes him out of his thoughts, warm tone punctuated by her adorable head tipping to the side. Had she always been that adorable?

“Sorry, sorry,” he rambles, “You went out with an FBI agent?” His tone is incredulous. She jokingly slaps his arm, and he fills with affection.

“Don’t be mean! It was literally one date, it was before I knew how obnoxious Agent Bennet was. Believe me, he made me realize about ten minutes in.”

She tells him the story of their first and only date, and while he is sure it’s full of anecdotes that are effervescent and hilarious, all he can think about is date with her, date with her, date with her.

He’d be on time, if they went out. He’d be well-dressed, put together and polite. She’s so lovely, so kind and so sweet and it’s only now he realizes that this is something he can want.

“So you’d go out with another federal agent?” It’s clumsy and awkward of a question, but it seems the only time it would ever be appropriate to ask it.

She shrugs, smiling at him.

“If it was the right person, sure.”

“And Bennett wasn’t?”

“No, I don’t think so. I like a different type of guy, you know. Kinda nerdy."

Even despite this, when Spencer spills his coffee on Bennett's legal pad the following week, he can't drum up even a little bit of remorse.

#spencer reid #spencer Reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds fanfic

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neyswxrld · 6 months ago

Text

not bad at all

Tech x reader

summary: Yeah it's kinda just the reader's first time kissing and making out with Tech.

warnings: kissing, making out, first kiss

words: ~550

a/n: hello everyone! i thought a lot about posting this, but i decided i give it a try! it's been a long time since i wrote something for tech, but i hope you enjoy!

MASTERLIST

It's your first kiss.

You're not sure if it's his first, it certainly doesn't feel like it - but then again, you don't have any examples you can compare this to.

Not that you want to.

He's bent over you, supporting his weight with his forearms, that are positioned on each side of your head.

Every time he looks at you, you feel like melting into a small puddle just beneath him, and at some point you wonder how it didn't happen already.

You put your hands on his shoulders and use your thumb to draw small circles on his neck.

For a second, you look into each other's eyes. You see how his roam over your face, to make sure anything is okay, before he meets your gaze again.

"How does it feel?" Tech asks and comes closer again.

You turn your head up and slightly tilt it to one side, ready to meet his lips with yours.

When they do, a little gasps topples out of your mouth, but none of you mind.

Tech's mouth is heaven. His tongue is warm and gentle against yours. And so wet.

You didn't think kissing would be that... wet and messy. Of course, you knew you would have to use your mouths to do it, but you just somehow forgot about the spit when you imagined doing that. With him.

The feeling is... weird. It's unexpected, and when you picture yourself with someone else you would be doing that with, you would be freaked out. But- It was Tech. And knowing that, feeling him close like that, makes a shiver run down your spine.

"It's... strange," you mumble when you break away. You're still so close, your lips touch when you talk.

You look up into his brown eyes, that are framed by his goggles.

"Strange?" He asks back, hesitating to put another kiss on your lips.

"Yeah," you whisper and close the gap for another small kiss. "But not bad."

Tech moves his lips against yours, this time it's without his tongue, and you could do that forever.

His lips are warm and smooth, and he smells so good, and he is so close-

You let your hand wander from his shoulder to his hair, burying your fingers in his curls, pulling him closer.

This time, a groan leaves his lips while he adjusts his position, almost laying on top of you.

Tech starts to place small kisses around your face, until he reaches your neck, making you shiver one more time.

"Not bad at all," you whisper and press into him. He couldn't be close enough at that moment.

But you feel like you need him closer, closer, closer.

"Tech," you gasp again when he hits a sensitive spot around your throat.

He hums quietly, but doesn't stop his exploring.

The hand that isn't in his hair, clings to his shirt. You need something to hold on.

When he decides to end his playtime around your throat and comes up again to look into your face, you're speechless.

His cheeks are so red, his lips look gorgeous, pink, like they want to be kissed again. His hair is messy, thanks to your doing and his eyes, oh his pretty eyes, are so full of love and adoration, you couldn't do anything else than pull him close again.

Really not bad at all.

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST

@isthereanechoinhere96 @trixie2023 @freesia-writes

#tech tuesday #the bad batch #star wars #tbb #star wars tech #bad batch tech #clone trooper tech #tbb tech #tbb tech x you #tbb tech x reader #tech x you #tech x reader #the bad batch tech x reader #bad batch tech x reader #tech tbb #bad batch

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thisblogisaboutabook · 11 months ago

Text

Bad Idea, Right? - Part 8

Eris x Reader/Azriel’s Daughter

If things go according to plan, Eris and Y/N’s first official date could end in hot, steamy sex. Or, it could end in complete and utter chaos - because when do things ever go according to plan? Azriel almost has a good time, until he doesn’t. We also FINALLY meet Tamlin’s daughter.

Part 7 Part 7.5 Headcanon

Warnings: Alcohol, language, smutty content, assault with non-consensual kissing, breeding kink (kind of)

An evening breeze blew through Velaris sending a slight chill through the champagne golden silk dress I’d chosen for the evening. A caress of warmth rose up from the fingers I’d threaded through Eris’, heat continuing up my arm and throughout my body, counteracting the mild chill.

When he’d shown up to my door right on time, dressed in a deep forest green tailored suit with the top unbuttoned and a turtleneck that was - For one, so perfectly molded to his torso that I practically salivated as fantasies of licking his abs flashed through my mind. And two, conveniently matched my dress perfectly - I almost said “Fuck the date.” and jumped on him then and there.

He’d arrived carrying three things. A bouquet of hydrangeas for my mother, symbolizing gratitude for her grace with the current situation. Freesia bulbs for my little sister to add to her Sprite garden if she wished, a symbol of friendship. I realized the double meaning of it, to draw in sprites with wishes for friendship but also to symbolize their new budding friendship. My mother smiled softly as she realized it too.

For me, he’d brought a “Fire Poppy”, apparently native to his court. His hesitance to express the meaning of the flowers, told me enough. Fire. Passion. But the incredibly faint dust of pink on his freckled cheeks left me wondering if perhaps there was something more.

Father only appeared at the last moment to kiss my forehead and likely give a seething look toward Eris while doing so that warned, Just because I haven’t killed you yet doesn’t mean I won’t. Eris paid no mind.

And now here we were, walking through the streets of Velaris hand in hand. Eris’ focus remained intently upon me as I pointed out various shops that I would frequent. I pointed out one that I loved as a child and Azalea still adored. The window was decorated with paint splatters of primary colors that blended together into a rainbow mirroring the Sidra and inside floated hundreds of miniature fae lights imitating the skies of Night Court.

Eris paused as we stood before the shop. “Can we take a look inside?”

“Why?” I asked, genuinely perplexed by his interest in this shop of all the ones we’d wandered past.

“It’s a surprise.” He stated.

Because why would anything with Eris be anything but secretive?

Eris read my responding roll of the eyes for exactly what it was. “Surely you realize there is a difference between a surprise and a secret?”

I couldn’t help myself. “Many of your secrets have left me feeling quite surprised, Eris. Certainly you would realize that?”

He huffed a silent laugh leaving me on the street to go into the store. Set in my stubborn ways, I refused to let him win and stood outside waiting.

Eris was back by my side eight minutes later with a small canvas bag. I raised an eyebrow. “What’d you get?”

“Ah, if you wanted to know, you could have come in with me. Guess it’s my secret to keep.”

“Mother spare me. You are insufferable.” I muttered stepping ahead of him down the street. His long strides caught up with mine within a few steps.

He once again wound his fingers through mine. “You love it.”

And I hated that it was true.

“You’re not going to tell me what you got?”

“Just a gift for a friend.”

———————-

Eris had reserved a table at Sevenda’s where Sevenda herself eagerly greeted us. She ushered us to a private section of the restaurant, lit with candles and within earshot of a performing pianist. She’d kissed me on the cheek and given Eris a respectful bow of the head before bringing out a mouthwatering appetizer of some delectable cheese sauce she’d recently added to her menu.

The secluded setting of our table, incandescent glow flickering off the candles, and soft melody floating in from the piano, all flowed together into a very intimate setting. Strange that I had bared myself to this male so many times, and performed every sexual act imaginable with him, yet I’d never felt so exposed to him as I did in this very moment.

Eris checked his blazer, and gods… I only ever wanted to see him in fitted turtle necks or absolutely fucking nothing again. The male was delicious and his gaze…. He was greedily drinking me in as if he’d splay me out on the table itself and feast. There was no way he couldn’t smell the arousal pouring off of me. I sure as hell could smell his, and it was far more mouthwatering than any of the glorious spices wafting through the restaurant.

Before I could give in to my instincts, Eris’ low tone interrupted. “If you keep looking at me like that, Y/N, I’m not going to make it through this dinner.”

“Maybe I don’t want you to.”

He audibly groaned. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

Just as our mutual eye fucking grew so intense that I genuinely wondered if Eris really was about take me then and there, our waiter approached with a bottle of the Inner Circle’s favorite wine. “Compliments of the High Lord.” Making eye contact with Eris, the male suddenly seemed to remember who he was in the presence of as he uncomfortably cleared his throat, “of the Night Court.”

Eris paid no mind and thanked the waiter. Surprise crossed the males face as Eris took the bottle from him and poured our glasses himself.

When the waiter took our orders and returned to the kitchen, Eris’ gaze returned to me. His eyes again roving over my body but lingering on my face. He smirked when he realized I was flushing under his intense eyes. “Are you nervous, little Shadowsinger?” He asked. His tone predatory.

I took the opportunity to send a shadow to caress the shell of his ear, effectively shutting him up.

“Now that we’re alone,” I ran my foot up the length of his leg, stopping the journey just short of where I so desperately wanted to feel him. “How long have you had an an apartment here and why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“Ahh yes, excellent talk for a first date.” Eris mused, raising the wine glass to his plush lips and taking a long, slow sip before continuing. “Perhaps, I wanted a place to see you without you having to travel through multiple courts to find me.”

“Do you not wish for me to come to the Autumn Keep any longer?”

Eris’ change in tone took me by surprise as it became stern, the voice of a High Lord and not the bedroom voice of my lover. “Don’t you dare think that for a second. There’s nothing mo-“

He stopped himself mid-sentence shifting uncomfortably. “I enjoy your presence in my keep, in my bed, Y/N. But I also like to have the opportunity to visit you in your home court.”

My heartbeat quickened at the power flowing off of him, the desire in his amber eyes.

“So, Rhys was totally fine with you having a place here, just to hook up with his niece?”

“Diplomacy, darling. It is far easier to have a place here for times that negotiations and other meetings run over. It also benefits him to be able to have eyes on a fellow High Lord, no? It was not a difficult matter to convince him.

And I was going to tell you, you just happened to pick up the hobby of drunkenly wandering the streets before I had the opportunity.”

“I was fine.”

I was not fine. He knew it. I knew it. I was borderline feral that night.

“It wasn’t you I was concerned about. It was the poor citizens running the other way, screaming of a rabid, shadow-creature roaming Velaris in search of its next meal.”

I smiled. “For the second time this evening, Eris Vanserra, you are insufferable.”

“And again, little one, you love it.”

I rolled my eyes and took a swig of wine.

————————

Eris

She was fucking captivating. Eris drunk in every detail of Y/N like she was the wine flowing from her glass.

She had to know she looked like a goddess. Had he told her? She could read him like a well-adored book at this point. She read every look he gave her without him needing to speak a word. I want you. You’re perfect. I need you. You’re more perfect than I ever dared dream. I would kiss the earth you walked on if you only asked.

Shit, could she read that all on his face? Should he tell her how damned gorgeous she was or would she give him that all-too-enticing look of “Spare me the compliments, High Lord, you can strip and ravish me once we’re alone.”

And gods, he was going to. He had plans for his little Shadowsinger tonight, plans involving carefully undressing her and pressing kisses to her silken skin, replacing each bit of fabric slipping off of her body with a press of his lips. Instead of burning that lovely little number that was hugging her mouth-watering curves, he would proudly display it in the Autumn Court’s archives. He was a romantic, after all.

Of course, before putting it behind glass for safe keeping, he’d be binding those pretty little wrists behind her back with said dress. He was also a deviant.

As for his plans after that? They were far too filthy to fantasize about at the table.

“Your aroma is rather fragrant.” Her teasing voice broke him from his thoughts.

“And you’re rather intoxicating. We make quite the pair, love.”

And there it was - the little blush she always tried so hard to hide from him.

If just the term “love” brought that to her face, what lovely shades of pink would her cheeks light up with if he laid it all out right now? If he told her how she’d fucking ruined him for anyone else? That to taste her was to taste the nectar of the gods? That he was so hopelessly in love with her that there was no crawling out of this pit of desire, and he’d sooner drown in his need for her than ever swim up for air.

The urge to do just that frightened him. Why did he think this date was a good idea? As far as his self control went, it was a terrible idea. And as far as he cared at this point, it was the best idea. He was here, in front of her, and nothing else mattered.

————————————

Eris had always thought himself better than the primitive beasts fae turned into when it came to their mates. But he truly realized how wrong he was when after dinner, Y/N had requested to walk very slowly along the river until her stomach wasn’t, as she so elegantly stated it, “bursting at the seams.”

Given that after the wonderful meal they’d devoured, he too was struggling, he obliged her, draping his suit’s jacket as well as his arm over her shoulders. She pressed a hand to her very, very, slightly bloated abdomen, in an effort of easing the discomfort. Such a simple gesture that should have meant absolutely nothing but….

An inferno blazed within him at the thought of her glowing with a round belly, the mating bond’s most primal instinct roaring at him to winnow her away immediately and fill her so utterly full of him that there would be no questioning of whose she was. His.

He prayed to the mother or whomever would listen that the breeze would blow the sickeningly strong scent of his arousal far away.

————————

Y/N

The gallery was packed. Unsurprisingly, anyone and everyone wanted to come out to brush elbows with the Inner Circle and who could blame them? Unlike the other courts of Prythian, Uncle Rhys and Aunt Feyre actually interacted with their people. Well, the people of Velaris at least. Feyre was respected as High Lady but she was revered as an artist. Proceeds from her own work went directly back into the arts district.

“Beautiful.” Eris mused approaching a work of art toward the back wall but keeping his eyes on me. I sipped the champagne an attendant handed me upon arrival, needing it to get through the rest of this evening.

Especially needing it to get through the work of art he was approaching.

“This.” Eris motioned toward the piece, “is stunning.”

“It’s not for sale. Just a work from one of Feyre’s students.”

The art, featuring darkness floating upward from the bottom and a blaze falling from the top, intertwining with licks and whirls of flame and shadow in the middle.

“Cost is of no concern to me, little one. I need it.”

A sing-song voice came from behind us. “It’s magnificent isn’t it?” Feyre asked.

“What can I do to acquire such a fine piece of art?”

“You’ll have to ask the artist.” She nodded toward me.

“Aww, come on my lovely niece. Think of all the supplies it could fund.”

“You’re a busybody.”

She only gave an airy laugh before disconnecting the mental bond and returning to the attendees.

“Wouldn’t it look lovely displayed for all of my court to see?”

My gut lurched and I wasn’t sure if it was from imposter syndrome or excitement.

“Fine.” I’ll make a deal with you, Eris Vanserra. He raised an eyebrow. “This art is very personal to me. And despite the fact that it is hanging in the gallery, I want it to be for your eyes only. Do you agree to hang it in your chambers?”

Eris gave a faux pout. “And not show my lovely lady’s art for all the world to admire?”

My heart raced as I quipped too quickly, not allowing the time to change my mind. “Perhaps I only want to be yours to admire.”

Eris visibly gaped at the statement and my heart sank. Had I read all of his adoration wrong? Was I going to humiliate myself just as I had two years ago when he’d left me on the dance floor and I swore I’d never let him have that power over me again?

He swallowed a lump in his throat. His voice breaking slightly. “And your payment terms?”

“Oh you’ll be paying out the ass for it.”

He grinned. “As one does for the finest things in life. I’ll take it.”

A beat of silence.

“And I’ll take you too, if you’ll have me.”

And with that he leaned in to kiss me, soft and hard, fervently and slowly, wanting more yet only needing this.

A throat cleared behind us as father interrupted. He looked to me and to the art behind me.

“I never realized….” He spoke softly as he took in the work.

I flushed, the work now feeling far too intimate under his gaze.

My father turned to Eris. “You’re purchasing this?”

Eris nodded. “A worthy investment, yes?”

My father remained tense but something in his eyes softened. “A very worthy investment.”

Father leaned in to kiss my forehead. “Enjoy your night sweetheart.”

It was at that moment Adish appeared, his Day Court friends Hem and Apollo in tow along with Nyx and a female I’d never seen before. Nyx looked in my direction with a wink as he saw the piece Eris and I stood before, before heading with the group for glasses of champagne.

Eris spoke, “I’m going to speak with Feyre regarding reservation of the piece before anyone else tries to snag it out from under me.”

“It’s not for sale, Eris. Nobody else would be able to purchase it.”

He pressed his warm lips into mine. “I won’t risk a good thing.”

I blushed, dismissing him.

Nursing my champagne, I perused the various pieces decorating the gallery walls when a female voice came from behind me. “If you wanted your father’s attention, there are better ways than whoring yourself to Autumn Court trash.”

I turned around to see the female Nyx had entered with. Her dark hair and blue eyes fooling nobody. Clever little shapeshifter.

“And I didn’t realize your father was in the habit of allowing females to leave his manor.”

She grinned. “Oh come on, he locked her in ONE time...or at least that’s what he tells me. He really can be an overbearing asshole sometimes.”

I laughed. “I missed you so much, you bitch. Nyx needs to stop hoarding you.”

“Please” she scoffed. “I don’t need Tamlin and Rhys’ melodrama to complicate things.”

“Ha, I’m sure Nyx filled you in on all of the drama in my world recently.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “Oh yes, I’ve been living vicariously through your escapades.”

She leaned in to hug me. “So” I took in the brown hair she’d chosen for the evening. “Does the carpet match the drapes?”

“Why don’t you find out?”

“Mmm, as enticing as that would be. I prefer your blonde hair and green eyes. It does something for me.”

“It does something for Nyx too.”

I pretended to vomit before Nyx stepped in. “If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to spend time with my lady before she decides to leave with you instead and I get stuck with the fireling.”

“He’s quite fun, Nyx. I’m sure you’d enjoy the ride.”

Nyx choked on his drink and whisked Layla away with him, leaving me to take in the art in peace.

A few more minutes passed and my shadows grew restless as if contemplating the same thing as me: Eris should be back by now.

Feyre had returned to the gallery with no Eris in sight. I searched, passing Adish and Apollo, my parents and Azalea, Rhys and Feyre, Cassian and Nesta, even Amren, but no Eris.

Had he left? Did I scare him away?

No, his response was sincere. He couldn’t have. He wouldn’t, right?

I walked down a quiet hallway, stepping away from the crowd. “Eris?” I whispered into the quiet of the hall.

Two shadows returned with no information but another returned frantic. “Bad.” “Go.”

I hurried in the direction my shadows shot out, winding further and further down the hall.

My heart stopped. In front of me was the radiant, gorgeous Hemera, pressed up against my man. Lips crashing into his.

“Bad.” My shadow repeated. Whirling to show me something.

Eris saw me and his eyes blew wide, shaking his head.

Hemera turned, wicked grin contorting her gorgeous features into something cruel.

“Sorry, hon. He’s just so needy and so pretty. Can you blame me?”

Did this bitch really think I’d simper and turn away? Oh no. My shadows continued their whispers.

“Blade.”

“Bad.”

“Blade.”

“Bad.”

A sliver of silver caught the dim lights shining down upon them, a blade held to Eris’ neck.

Eris stared at me wide eyed as my shadows erupted into a frenzy around me in effort to distract the Day Court female.

She jolted and her blade knicked his neck and I felt a sudden spike of fear in my gut but the fear, it didn’t come from me. It was coming from…. Eris.

Holy shit.

Willing all of my power to the surface, my tone turned cold, dangerous. “I suggest you step away from my mate.”

The High Lord of the Autumn Court. Eris fucking Vanserra. My mate.

I gave a tug in return to his emotions. A gentle reminder that I had this under control and he instantly tugged back.

He knew. Holy shit, he had known.

I could be angry later, now I needed to save his ass.

A commotion came from behind me. Adish and Apollo rushing in. “What the-“ Adish started. “Sorry, friend.” Apollo spoke before the fucker cast a sedation spell on him.

Apollo towered over me. “You weren’t supposed to find them. For what it’s worth, you would have been a great friend.”

He moved, but I moved faster. Sending a blast of power knocking the male on his ass. My shadows binding him.

“You talk too much.” I spat.

Turning back to Hem and Eris she held him in front of her. “Don’t make me kill him.” She spoke. Now using him as a shield. With his front exposed, I could see the shackles around his wrists. “This could go much more easily if you let me leave here with him. Why do you want a cheating male? You deserve better than that.”

I needed time to assess. My shadows busy with Apollo. Fuck. This was bad.

I laughed. “I hardly call you forcing yourself upon him ‘cheating’, in fact most would call that ‘assault’. And I have no patience for those who force themselves upon others.”

Just then a flurry of shadows shot into the room, ripping Hem’s wrist and dagger from Eris’ throat. My father winnowed into the room. No, this wasn’t my father. This was the feared Shadowsinger, the infamous Spymaster of the Night Court. His tone promised death as he commanded Hem to step away from Eris. She fought his demand, shaking with fear as she remained in place. “Please, you don’t understand. My father is wrongfully imprisoned in HIS court.”

“And this is how you feel it best to approach?” Father stepped closer, a thick, violent air emanating from him. “I will ask you one final time to step away from the High Lord.”

Hemera knew she was no match as she dropped the knife stepping back away from Eris.

Eris ran to me, in an attempt to shield me from any fallout but there was no more danger as father’s shadows apprehended the female.

Rhys and Feyre raced into the room, Nesta and Cassian on their tail.

Rhys whispered to Feyre. “Let Elain know it’s handled.”

Feyre’s gaze went distant as she communicated to my mother.

Rhys commanded Apollo to remove the sedation spell from Adish as Cassian jerked the apprehended male off the ground.

Nesta’s eyes flared with silver as she stared down Hemera before apprehending her as well. My mother and sister rushed in as we followed Rhys down to the gallery basement toward an empty office where the two would be held until Helion arrived. Since they were denizens of his court, it was only right to determine the next steps with him.

As the group strode toward the office, Azalea began tugging at my sleeve. “Sissy.”

“Not now, Azzie.”

She gasped, her little legs trying to keep up. “Sissy, please.”

“Just a minute, Azzie”

I felt guilty for ignoring her but my mind was coming out of the adrenaline state it had been in and my heart racing with rage and shock as I processed the revelation that Eris was my mate. That he knew and didn’t tell me.

Ironic considering that I always found Aunt Feyre and Aunt Nesta to be overly dramatic for their reactions to finding out about their own mates.

They were good, loving males who had enough money to live in lavish comfort for all of their days, and were highly regarded among the people of Velaris. How terrible.

Yet here I was. Fuming. Humiliated. That this male, a gorgeous High Lord and a damn good one at that, with a far softer heart than he’d ever let the world see, courted me because I was his mate.

I thought he wanted me for me.

“Sissy-“ Azalea drew me from my thoughts once again. “What?” I finally asked, raising my voice. But it was too late as the door to the empty office was opened, only to unveil a half naked Nyx, trousers unlaced, his body pinning a no longer shifted Layla with the bottom of her dress hiked up, and breasts fully exposed.

Nyx gaped. Eyes wide and frantic. I sent my shadows out to shield them, my father’s following suit, my hand instantly covering Azalea’s eyes.

Layla only pulled her dress up over her tits as she let out a laugh. “Whoops, we thought this room was unused.”

“I tried to tell you.” Azalea’s little voice whispered.

Darkness erupted through the room as Rhys clenched his fists. “What the fuck?” He growled out to Nyx.

My father only grinned, not caring who saw the smug satisfaction on his face. Fully conveying the look of that’s how it feels, you pompous asshole. Get it now? How’s it feel to be humiliated in front of an audience by the unconventional partner your child has chosen to fuck.

Feyre only covered her mouth, stifling a giggle at the situation. Nesta and mother quietly giggling with her.

I used the distraction to remove the enchanted shackles that were still stifling Eris’ power and apparently his ability to speak.

Fury blazed within me, my restraint failing as I spat out my next words much louder than intended.

“How long, Eris?”

Guilt flooded his features, his head hanging low.

“How. Long? How long have you known that I’m your mate?”

My father choked. The shit-eating grin instantly fading from his face, jaw and fists clenching.

A pitiful sound escaped Eris. “Since the first night… in the alley.”

“Wow.” was all I could manage as the walls began closing in around me.

I stepped away but Eris grabbed my wrist. “Please, Y/N. Just hear me out.” his broken voice pleaded. I couldn’t think. I needed space. Needed to breathe.

“Mom.” I looked to my mother. “Can we go home?”

She gave an empathetic look to Eris. “Come on, Azalea.” She reached out a hand. “Sissy needs us.”

Azalea looked to Eris, letting out a “hmph” as she scrunched her nose and crossed her arms. “That was bad.” She scolded, little wings ruffling with each word.

His face crumpled further as his little friend glared at him with disdain, words failing as she stuck her tongue out and winnowed away with mother.

“I love you.” was the last thing I heard as I spirited away.

———————————————-

A/N: I have had so much fun writing this series! Part 9 will be the final chapter but I may eventually give our main character a name and add a few spin off chapters as well. If that would be of interested to you, let me know!

Tags:

ACOTAR list: @lilah-asteria

Eris list: @angiedsv

Series list: @b0xerdancer-writes @myheartfollower @ang-taylorsversion @acotarobsessed @uniquecolorwizard @justasillylittlegoofyguy @thelov3lybookworm @starryhiraeth @5moremin @azrielsmate3 @coolepowersthings @isa1b2h3 @inloveallthetime @julesofvolterra @deeshag @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @courtofbatboydreams @yourmumsdumptruck @nebarious @glitterypirateduck @mybestfriendmademe

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weirdsht · 5 months ago

Text

Disillusioned 14 . Insecurity, My Old Friend (2)

a/n: the typhoon is so bad but only one of my profs switched to online class... but during online class I wrote this instead of listening so ig its understandable why they don't want to switch...

anw, after this chapter this thing officially has more words and pages than all of my lotcf oneshots combined

tags: slavery and human trafficking, mentioned wounds, tears

English isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Constructive criticisms and any kind of interaction are more than welcome

Requests are currently closed but my ask are still open (read pinned)

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It felt like it had been a long time since _____ and Cale saw each other. In reality, it was merely a few days. It probably just felt like an eternity because they were both busy.

Sure, let’s go with that…

The two exchanged short pleasantries before the conversation switched to how one of the Gyerre Duchy’s vassals was committing human trafficking.

At first, the healer silently listened to the assassin and the young master talked. But then a familiar name was mentioned.

The Chryshi

_____ who has naturally and unknowingly switched their positions from in front of Ron to Cale's side perked up at the mention of a merchant guild and the Chryshi household.

A puppy-like young master and a bunny-like healer young master that naturally gravitated towards each other every chance they got…

No one knew how much this fact entertained a certain benign old man.

The so-called bunny-like healer started tugging Cale's sleeves as an indication they had something to say, too uncomfortable to speak first because there were a lot of people.

"Hmm? What is it _____, do you know something?"

Ignoring how Cale's voice softened a bit when addressing the healer, they all tuned in as to what the healer had to say.

"Back when I was with my adoptive family, I heard them bring up the Chryshi and some merchant guild in the same sentence. Whenever the conversation was about that they would also bring up about how it brings in so much income.”

_____ could see the intrigued reaction forming on Ron’s face.

“Also, there were nights when I would hear them have secret meanings with that Baron household... I wasn't allowed to take part in important conversations when I was back there so I can only tell you about things I overheard."

Cale once again feels like a headache coming.

However, it checks out if the Perduellios are part of this human trafficking scheme. How else would they get information about an ‘orphanage’ that sells blessed and gifted children?

It just makes sense.

And everyone could see that Cale hates that it makes sense.

Because if the Perduellios are part of this scheme then it would mean the orphanage _____ came from is a slave house with an orphanage front.

As if _____ hasn’t had enough in Cale’s opinion.

They already suffered from those bastards called Perduellios. If the place they came from was a slave house… how much more abuse did they experience?

“Ron, Freesia, include the Perduellios in your investigation.”

“As you wish young master-nim”

Everyone finalized the plan before moving on to another topic.

“Are you sure you’ll be fine staying alone at an inn? I can send one of them with you.”

What’s this? A certain redhead young master is acting out of character?

“I’ll be fine. I know the Gyerre territory like the back of my hand. I have done so many projects here since the Perduellios are aligned with them.”

Just as Cale mentioned, the plan is for _____ to stay in an inn. They would dye their hair and eyes as disguises too. This was because the chances of them being discovered here were higher. Not only does everyone know them, but Perduellio’s people also frequent this place.

So they had an idea to make _____ stay at an inn and pretend to be a traveller. It’s a great plan, only if Cale and Raon weren’t so hesitant.

Despite those hesitations, everything proceeded as planned.

The next day _____ went to a teahouse they used to frequent before. It was a few blocks from where Cale was drinking and should have windows so they could look at the houses from across the bridge.

Walking inside the establishment made the healer feel nostalgic. Going inside this teahouse was the only time they could semi-relax before. They were only allowed in there so rumours of the Perduellios not letting _____ have any downtime do not spread. Still, they were grateful for all those times.

_____ went to sit at an empty table with a window view. They would sit where they used to but for some reason, that table was filled with all sorts of flowers and gifts.

“Are you a traveller?”

A childish voice asked the healer. When _____ turned around to see who was talking, they saw the child of the owner of the teahouse.

“Yes I am, how did you know?”

Thankfully _____ had asked Raon to change their voice last minute.

“It’s because I saw you looking at that special table! Everyone here knows why that table is so special! You look like you don't know, so you must not be from here!”

Seems like _____ hasn’t been around here for a long time.

“That table belongs to Roan’s Medicus! Well, not belong but when uhm, when they were still around they would go here and sit over there and admire the view so my parents decided to decicate that table to them… I’ve always wanted to play with them… they were so pretty that I felt shy… I wish I had asked though…”

Guilt stabbed _____’s heart at the child’s words. They have seen this child look at them back then. However, they just thought the child was curious.

“But I'm not sad! Mom said that they are resting peacefully now! She told me that maybe they had to go because the Sun God missed them already! I'm sad that Sun God didn't ask me first if I won't miss Medicus-nim, but I understand their feelings because I'm a big girl now!”

Despite saying she's not sad, the child's eyes look teary as she talks about the healer.

“Oh, I was talking about the table! After hearing what Mom and Dad did, everyone started bringing gifts and flowers! Everyone said that it's so that if ever Medicus-nim’s spirit visits here they'd know just how much we love them! See that flower over there? I picked it myself to give it to them!”

_____ had no idea that people admired them to the point of doing something like this. It made their heart swell. Maybe they have done more than they thought they did.

“Really you did? I'm sure Medicus-nim will be happy when they see it…”

A woman came out from the kitchen, making the healer unable to finish their sentence. _____ knew this woman well, it's the shop's owner.

“Oh my! Mirari what did I tell you about bothering our customers!”

“Oh no, don’t worry it’s fine miss. We had a good conversation.”

The woman who seemed to be in her mid-thirties looked at _____ apologetically.

“I’m glad if that’s the case, but I’m still very sorry. She has suddenly started acting like this after hearing the news about the Medicus.”

Oh…

_____ doesn’t quite know how to feel about that.

So instead they just reassured Mirari’s mother that no harm was done. Nonetheless, the owner was insistent that they’d been disturbed and said that they could have something on the house.

“Traveller-nim choose tiramisu! It’s really good! Medicus-nim always ordered it!”

_____ doesn’t know if they can take any more of this.

They don’t know what they’ve done to make someone this fond of them.

“If Mirari-nim insists then I’ll get a tiramisu cake.”

The healer smiled as they waved goodbye to the child that’s being escorted back to the kitchen. As they did they wonder how such a small child could leave such big lingering feelings.

Nothing else happened after that encounter. _____ just sipped their tea and ate sweets as they watched the windows.

Then it finally happened.

Cale had gone outside acting all trashy.

As they did _____ couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle. It’s funny to see the young master acting drunk when he's clearly not. Plus that red flush on his face looks cute.

…wait what?

Uhm anyways…

Soon _____ saw the signal for them to make a move. The signal that they talked about yesterday was Cale’s shield. As soon as the redhead summoned the famous silver shield, the healer went out to be on standby.

Everything became chaotic. _____ could see the citizens not knowing what to do as the famous young master Silver Shield caused havoc.

_____ used that chaos to their advantage and went underneath the houses Cale had been eyeing since this morning.

Once they got to where the victims were _____ started healing all the severely injured people. As much as it pains the healer to pick and choose who to heal they still do. This was because the Gyerres had to see for themselves just how much these people had suffered.

So as much as they want to heal everyone, _____ only attended to those close to dying.

“Kind _____ the people our human is waiting for are here!”

Raon’s voice echoed in _____’s mind midway through finishing all the houses. That was their sign to get out before Antonio Gyerre or his knights saw the healer.

That night two cute kittens infiltrated _____’s room.

“Cale said you might use all the potions he gave to you on other people nya!”

“We are here to heal the healer nya!”

On and Hong greeted the injured healer on the bed as they welcomed themselves in through the window. _____ could only send a small smile in return, too hurt to form a response.

“Our youngest and Cale wanted to come here themselves but they still have something to do nya.”

Hong stated as he switched to his human form to properly use the healing potion he and On had brought. Meanwhile, his older sister is inspecting the healer’s body. She’s assessing every wound she can find, no doubt to tattle to Cale later.

With the help of the two siblings, _____ started feeling better in no time. They would try to do it midway themself but the healer has learned not to disturb the two kittens when they set their mind to do something.

After they were done they shifted back into their kitten forms to curl up and cuddle with _____.

Safe to say _____ slept soundly that night.

A few days later _____can finally regroup with Cale. They agreed to meet up outside the Gyerre territory, just before they had to meet up with Mary and Tasha.

_____ entered the carriage and greeted Billos. They were about to sit beside him when they felt Cale tug on their clothes. It confused the healer because why is Cale stopping them from sitting beside the merchant when they usually sit across the redhead? So _____ looked at the young master only to see him patting the space beside him.

“I assume you’ve been well?”

“Yes, thanks to you and the kids. I’m glad that you seem to be in good spirits too.”

Cale quickly assessed the healer's body to confirm if they were feeling better. After seeing that they were, the redhead grabbed a pillow from somewhere and placed it on the healer's lap. He then laid down on that pillow and started sleeping as if Billos wasn’t even there.

In turn, Billos just acted as if the young master wasn’t doing anything out of the ordinary.

Time passed and they soon arrived at the entrance of Vegas CIty where the merchant got off. As soon as he did Cale got up from _____’s lap to talk to them.

“Ron and Freesia had investigated the Perduellio Family. It turns out that the assumptions were correct. The Perduellios have been working with the Chryshis and have been smuggling people.”

Oh…

Was it too late to put their hood back on now?

Because _____ feels like they’re about to cry…

Oh no

_____ can feel the waterworks start. They tried to suppress it, but the news was just too much to bear. Especially after the conversation they had with that child named Mirari.

Tears fell as _____ absorbed the news Cale told them.

In the back of their mind, someone was telling them that they seemed to be crying a lot these days but they currently can't care.

"I didn't... I genuinely didn't know anything..."

The sorrow _____ felt at the involvement of their family felt foreign to them. Their heart feels as though it was being crushed by how heavy it was while their head feels light. They also started questioning their role and achievements. Although they didn't take a direct part in that terrible sin, they feel as though they still have a great responsibility as they were part of that family.

"I know they weren't the greatest... But I never thought they would stoop so low. What they did to me was fine but this…”

They may have not taken part in the act, but they unknowingly helped fund it.

And that made _____ feel so so guilty.

“While I was healing people, feeling like I was righteous, they were doing such a sin behind my back. Using the money I have accumulated from the sick for such a task.."

Cale can't take this anymore. He can't take _____’s tears anymore. But he doesn't know how to handle a crying person.

So he did the first thing that popped into his mind.

Cale offered his shoulder.

Well, he first wiped _____’s tears before semi-hugging them to place them on his shoulder.

The point still stands, Cale is doing something unusual.

Raon, Hong, and On watched this predicament with their jaws practically on the ground. They had seen the redhead act in all kinds of ways to get what he wanted. But never like this.

Plus, he wasn't acting. That makes it more shocking to the children.

And maybe _____ would be the same if they weren’t engrossed in their feelings.

But they are, so they just accepted the comfort the redhead silently offered and cried to their heart's content.

Later on, when Ron checked the carriage, he could see the bunny healer's head on his puppy master's lap. Both of them slept while the children were quietly chatting amongst themselves.

a/n: just a small fun fact, I wasn't gonna assign a name at first because I was too lazy but then I learned that Perduellio was the capital offense of high treason back in Ancient Rome

#trash of the count's family #lout of the count’s family #tcf #lcf #cale henituse #lotcf #totcf #tcf x reader #lotcf x reader #lcf x reader #totcf x reader #manhwa x reader #cale x reader #cale henituse x reader #gn reader #gender neutral reader #x gn reader #x reader #disillusioned . tcf

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elliesbelle · 2 years ago

Text

nobody compares to you

chapter 10

pairing: ellie x reader

synopsis: you're in your junior year of college and at a party, you run into the girl who broke your heart: ellie williams. despite the time it took to reset your life, will you risk a broken heart again for her?

content warnings: modern college au, cursing, angst, descriptions of alcohol, straight men eww, unwanted advances, reader is implied to be shorter than both abby and ellie (if you think you're not, let's just pretend for a line or two for the sake of storytelling lol), descriptions of sexual harassment, descriptions of physical violence, minors do not interact

word count: 5.5k

chapters: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen

series masterlist

my masterlist

i have a ko-if if you like my work so much that you feel compelled to tip me ♡︎

the "nobody compares to you" spotify playlist

featuring the equal creatures song "waiting in the wings"

Friday night came a little too quickly for your liking. After much consideration, you’d settled on a pink bomber jacket with a white corset top and black leggings for your outing at the Bow and Arrow. You contemplate wearing your usual black boots, but you decide for tonight to give your feet a rest from being covered with painful blisters. While you meticulously add finishing touches to your makeup, your phone buzzes furiously on your bathroom counter. You tap it to reveal a text from Abby.

You allow yourself a tiny smile at Abby’s banter before setting your phone back down.

After you decide that you’re satisfied with your appearance, you spray yourself with hints of a freesia perfume Tara had gifted you for your birthday last year. Normally, you’d wear your signature lavender fragrance, but you’d figured that even tiny advances outside of your comfort zone were a good, healthy first step to moving forward with your life. You wonder silently if Abby would notice and like it.

You spend the next couple of minutes pacing all around your living room, occasionally bouncing up and down on your tiptoes in sheer nervousness. When you hear three gentle knocks on your front door, your heart jumps out of your chest. You breathe in deeply from between pursed, painted lips, just the way your old therapist taught you, before striding over to anxiously turn the doorknob and reveal Abby waiting expectantly.

She was wearing a brown, button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up over her muscled forearms and the top two buttons undone. Her dirty blonde hair was in her usual tight braid and fell down her back. She has her hands tucked into the front pockets of her black slacks and upon laying eyes on you, her face breaks out in a wide smile.

“Well, good evening, pretty lady,” She greets you. “You look very nice tonight.”

“You’re looking pretty suave yourself,” You reply, ignoring the rising heat in your cheeks.

Abby smirks.

“You ready to go?” She asks.

“Mhmm,” You murmur, reaching for your purse & keys from the entryway table before closing and locking your front door behind you. “Lead the way, Miss Anderson.”

You and Abby chat about your respective days on the way to the Bow and Arrow. You take the bus part-way, sitting next to her towards the back. It isn’t lost on you the way Abby’s hand twitches almost expectantly to hold yours, but you can’t summon enough courage in the moment to welcome the action. Though your body yearned for the physical intimacy, something else inside didn’t feel right just yet. However, you did at least allow yourself to take Abby’s hand for a few, short moments when she helped you out of your seat, and then again when she helped you hop off of the bus.

The sun had almost entirely set by now, your shadows mainly illuminated by the lampposts and lights from the nearby shops and restaurants along the street. After several minutes of skipping next to Abby, you start to see the vague outline of the Bow and Arrow from a distance. Your fingers start to nervously fidget and you feel yourself chewing the inside of your lip in apprehensive anticipation.

Making up an excuse to turn around and go home right now would be simple enough, though a little sudden and impolite. For the past day, you’d been trying to focus diligently on your schoolwork and classes so as not to dwell too far on what tonight could bring. However, the reality was starting to set in and your hands became clammier with every tentative step you took towards your destination. Perhaps it was a preemptively good idea not to take Abby’s hand earlier.

You turn towards Abby, who hasn’t noticed your apparent restlessness. She looks completely at ease, confident as she always was. She oozes of enthusiasm, clearly looking forward to the night out. You sigh discreetly, resolving to at least make an effort to live it up, even just for a few hours. You make sure not to let your eyes wander too far towards the familiar, dark alleyway next to the bar.

When reaching the entrance, you’d already pulled out your ID to flash at the bouncer, who lazily glances at it before handing it back to you and nodding you forward. The bouncer doesn’t card Abby and instead, gets up from their stool to clasp her hand and pat her back.

“Yo, what’s up, Anderson?” The bouncer says in welcome.

“Hey, Cam,” Abby replies. “Didn’t know you were working tonight.”

“We’re not all doctors, man. Gotta pay those bills somehow.”

“Not a doctor yet, dude.” Abby chuckles.

“Yeah, yeah,” The bouncer waves her off nonchalantly. “You go enjoy your night.”

You stand there and watch the interaction in both awkwardness and admiration. Abby really did know everyone around, even outside of campus.

“Come on,” Abby motions you to follow her. “I think I see some of my friends here already.”

You nod your head and trail after her timidly.

Your wary eyes explore the bar, slowly taking in how it’s changed since the last time you’d visited. They’d added another TV among the line-up against one of the walls, and there were numerous amounts of low-lit string lights now hanging from the ceiling. You recognize a couple of the bartenders working tonight, in addition to a few more who seemed fairly new. They’d hung up a large version of the original rainbow Pride flag by a window in the front right next to the blue-pink-and-white transgender one. But even with these few new changes, the place looks generally the same. You secretly wish it didn’t, afraid that the daunting familiarity might trigger some unpleasant memories.

Abby leads you towards a group of people gathered around one of the wall-mounted television screens where a Nintendo 64 was hooked up to. Three of them were engaged in an intense game of Mario Kart, all yelling at each other over both the race course music and a SZA song currently blasting through the bar’s speakers. Their spectating friends were heckling genially and cheering them on as the race ended with whichever player competing as Yoshi finishing in first place.

“That’s how it’s done, bitches!” A guy who you recognize as Abby’s friend Jordan from the other day proclaims in triumph.

“Whatever, asshole. You only won ‘cause I slipped on a banana peel during the second lap.” A girl wearing a black leather jacket to his left complains.

“Excuses, excuses,” Jordan waves off, shaking his head mockingly. “Sounds like a serious skill issue to me.”

“Leah, you better get your man right now before I beat his ass.”

As you and Abby approach the group, one of her friends leaning against the wall looks up from the bickering to meet Abby’s gaze.

“Yo, Abs, finally!” He says, beckoning her over. He was a tall, beefy man with his black hair tied up in a man bun and his face covered with a full beard. You knew he was one of Abby’s close friends, but you couldn’t remember which one he was.

“You missed me that much, Alvarez?” Abby taunts, nudging him in the shoulder before grasping his outreached hand in greeting.

“Cocky asshole,” Her friend chuckles. “Please save me from the torture of watching Jordan and Nora bitch at each other over this game all night.”

“Why’d you even let them near this again after the last time we were here?”

Abby and her friend jest for a moment or two before you’re eventually acknowledged.

“So anyway, who’s this?” He asks.

“Oh, right—” Abby says apologetically before introducing you.

“Nice to meet you,” Her friend responds. “Manny. Have we met before?”

“I’m not sure, honestly,” You admit. “I haven’t really been the most social or noticeable person of late.”

“Pretty girl like you? Nah, I’m sure that’s not true.” Manny remarks boldly.

You freeze at his unwanted flattery, which Abby doesn’t notice. You wonder internally what the hell her obviously and painfully straight guy friend was doing at this lesbian bar.

Abby proceeds to acquaint you with the rest of her friend group: Jordan, Leah, Nora, Nick, and Jay. Jordan, Nora, and Jay were the three holding the controllers connected to the video game console, each either saying hello or nodding towards you in friendly greeting. The guy Nick who wore a black beanie raised his can of beer towards your direction when Abby introduced him before uttering a simple “wassup” to you. Next to Jordan is a girl with long black hair tied back in a low ponytail. Abby introduces her as Leah, after which she smiles sweetly at you.

After she’s named all her friends, Abby turns towards you.

“Wanna grab a drink?” She questions.

“Yes, please.” You reply gratefully.

You follow her to the semi-crowded bar where she settles on a somehow unoccupied barstool, you taking a seat on the one next to her.

“What would you like, pretty girl?” Abby asks.

“Umm, vodka cranberry, maybe?” You say.

Abby smiles and nods before raising her hand to grab the attention of a bartender. After a few moments, she’s able to flag one down.

“Can I get a vodka cranberry and a blue motorcycle?” She yells over the music, pulling out her wallet and handing over her credit card. “And start a tab?”

“No worries, Abby,” The bartender smiles, taking her card. “Light ice on the motorcycle?”

“Please.”

The bartender nods as they swipe Abby’s card on the POS system before handing it back to her and walking to the side to prepare your drinks.

“So you come here a whole lot, huh?” You remark as you both wait.

“What makes you say that?” Abby asks, turning her body to face you better.

“Everyone around here seems to know who you are.”

“Nah, I’m just that cool and hot and popular that just about everyone knows my name anywhere I go.” Abby teases arrogantly.

You laugh, rolling your eyes at her cockiness.

“You are so full of yourself, Miss Anderson.”

“Anything to make you laugh, pretty girl.”

You and Abby banter for a minute or two before your respective drinks are placed in front of you, the bartender additionally handing you each a napkin.

“Okay, so what the hell did you order?” You inquire of Abby, eyeing her turquoise-coloured beverage.

“You’ve never had a blue motorcycle before?”

“Hey, I’m a simple gal; I know only like, four or five different names of basic alcohol. Two of which are vodka.”

Abby throws her head back, laughing boisterously.

“Oh, man, are you really that much of a grandma?” She teases you.

“Absolutely,” You joke. “I just shape-shifted for tonight to give the appearance of a 20-something-year-old college student so as not to be judged for my wild, party animal habits.”

“God, you are so nerdy,” Abby chuckles. “Good thing you’re really cute.”

You roll your eyes at her once more before taking a sip of your drink.

“How’s your very basic and boring vodka cranberry?” Abby quips.

“Oh, fuck off,” You giggle. “How’s your weird, little smurf drink?”

“Extremely delicious, thank you so much for asking.” She responds. “Want a taste?”

You grimace.

“What!” Abby exclaims, chuckling.

“I’m not exactly the most adventurous when it comes to what I put in my body.”

“Well, there’s a first time for everything.” Abby offers, sliding over her blue drink towards your direction.

“What the hell is even in it?”

“Oh, just try it, you fucking wimp!”

You whine in hesitation before bringing the cup up to your pursed lips, taking the most minuscule of sips.

“Oh, come on!” Abby complains as you place the drink back down. “That was barely fucking anything!”

“You wanted me to drink it, so I drank it!”

“Chug it like a fucking man!”

“Are you trying to get me drunk tonight, Miss Anderson?”

“Drink it.” Abby tauntingly asserts.

You purse your lips once more before relenting to take a much bigger gulp from the cup. As you slam the drink back down onto the bar and slide it back towards Abby, you scowl at the mixture of different flavours staining the surface of your tongue.

“What the hell did you just fucking poison me with?” You grumble, your mouth salivating in disgust.

“Calm down, you big baby, it’s just some basic liquor with a bit of Blue Curaçao mixed in.” Abby chuckles. “You know, rum, tequila, gin.”

“Oh god, tequila?” You anxiously chuckle. “Well, get ready for just about anything to happen tonight.”

“Oh?”

“Tequila is my sworn enemy and weakness.” You admit. “Never know what’s gonna happen when I’ve got that shit in my system.”

“Is that so?” Abby asks, placing her elbows on the bar and her chin on top of her interlocked hands. “I’m very much intrigued to know more.”

“I’m sure you are.” You say, taking a generous sip from your own drink.

“Any other weaknesses that you care to share with the class?” She coaxes.

You lean in close enough for her to hear you whisper pointedly, “I guess you’ll just have to find out for yourself, Miss Anderson.”

As the night goes by gradually and the more intoxicated you get, the more at ease you begin to feel. Abby’s friends eventually reveal that a local band was going to be playing a few songs live on the rooftop dancefloor later on, and you all liquor up in case they turn out to be an amateur disaster.

Though they weren’t exactly your crowd, Abby’s friend group was generally amiable and sociable. She made sense amongst them, all of them having established a repartee with her and not being intimidated like a lot of people were. You didn’t care much for her guy friends, who were slightly crude & vulgar and all of whom you could easily tell were straight and who you felt had no place being in a lesbian bar. But with the rest, you generally got along well with.

You piece together that the nice girl Leah is Jordan’s girlfriend from the way they stuck to each other’s side as much as possible. She was friendly, always including you in the conversations and acknowledging when you spoke.

Often standing beside her was Jay, who Abby at some point quietly whispers to you is her best friend. Next to Abby, she was the most outwardly lesbian-looking one in the group. She wore a sports cap backwards over her long, straight black hair and a grey hoodie underneath an old, dishevelled jean jacket. Her fingers were decorated with several silver rings, and you saw hints of tattoos whenever she would stretch her arms out and cause her sleeves to ride up slightly. Her rather short stature was dwarfed by her rambunctious character, often making you giggle at her drunken jabs at straight people.

The girl Nora was who aroused the most curiosity from you out of the whole friend group. She was slim, athletic-looking, and very beautiful. Her dark, kinky hair was worn in a tight, high bun, apart from a few ringlets that fell effortlessly down the sides of her face. She wore a tight, black leather jacket that hugged her form nicely. From both her physical appearance and disposition, she gave off the vibe of the beautiful, mysterious love interest to the main character in a romantic indie film. She seemed to have this easy, welcoming banter with everyone, especially Abby. You wonder to yourself if there was something there between them before realizing that it was none of your business.

You were surprised at how much of a good time you were having. Abby was by your side for most of the night, often nudging your shoulder playfully, explaining references, or whispering flirty comments in your ear. She paid for both of your drinks, to which you reprimanded her for the entire time, even up until she closed out her tab when you’d both had enough to drink. You were enjoying yourself to the point where you’d almost forgotten the significance this bar held for you.

A little while before the promised local band were set to make their appearance, another friend of Abby’s belatedly joined the group.

A gust of cold, autumn wind blew in unkindly from the outside when the front door of the bar opened to receive another patron. Your eyes unwittingly wander towards the movement, suddenly widening when they fall on the face of the familiar newcomer.

Your ex-girlfriend Adriana strides into the bar, scanning the place for her friends. Your rattled and petrified state is short-lived when Jordan spots her as well and hails her over.

“Yo! Adriana! Over here!” He calls.

As Abby and the rest of her friends greet her and playfully berate her for her tardiness, you shrink behind the group as you attempt to compose yourself. Though it had ended amicably between you two, it had still been several years since you’d actually come face-to-face with Adriana. You’d never established a friendship with her afterwards despite it all, still feeling too much guilt for hooking up with her friend almost immediately after your breakup.

Adriana leisurely makes her way through the group, greeting each one jovially. After she laughed at an inside joke Nora had uttered to her, you concede silently that you couldn’t avoid being seen by her any further, not without resorting to running to the bathroom and hiding for the rest of the night. You slowly step out behind Abby’s tall, burly figure, attempting not to draw attention to yourself and trying to ease back into the situation naturally.

After a few moments, Adriana’s eyes fall on you. You see the recognition slowly setting in by the expression on her face and once you can tell that she’s realized who you were, she gives you a small smile. She doesn’t say anything to you and continues to engage in conversation with others, but you feel a little less awkwardness after you return her smile. Though your chest still feels a bit tight from the tension, you’re slightly more relieved and at ease knowing that Adriana still kept her word after all these years of having no ill will towards you.

Several minutes after Adriana’s arrival, you saw other patrons starting to head towards the rooftop, and your group eventually followed suit. Once you reach the next floor, you see a small stage where a few instruments were already in place and a couple of band members were setting up for the show. Your group chatters amongst themselves as you all wait patiently.

Abby taps your shoulder at one point to let you know she was heading back down to use the restroom for a second. You giggle and tell her she didn’t need to let you know, to which she rolls her eyes humorously and promises she won’t be gone for too long. As she walks away, you realize that on her other side was Adriana and that you were now stuck standing side-by-side with each other.

“H-hey, Adriana.” You say, giving her a slightly uncomfortable smile.

“Hey. Didn’t know I was gonna see you here tonight.” She responds lightheartedly.

“Yeah, Abby invited me out.” You explain.

“Oh, I see. I didn’t know that you two still talked.”

“Honestly, we reconnected only recently.”

“Ahh, I see.”

There was a moment or two of silence where you were unsure of how to proceed with the conversation. Luckily, Adriana seemed comfortable enough to continue speaking.

“So how have you been since we last saw each other?” She asks you.

“Oh, umm,” You begin slowly. You didn’t feel the most comfortable sharing the traumatic shit show your life has been the past two years with your ex-girlfriend, so you settle for a simple “same old, same old” at the moment.

“That’s good.” She replies.

“How about you?”

“Swamped as fuck with all my courses. I honestly wasn’t gonna come out tonight ‘cause I was busy as hell trying to get some work done. That’s why I was late. But my partner is actually in the band that’s performing tonight, and I wanted to be supportive.”

“Oh, that’s really sweet of you. I’m sure they’ll appreciate you being here.”

“Just wanna be a good and loyal girlfriend, that’s all.”

Another lull follows. Adriana seems perfectly calm and content with the silence, but you continue to struggle internally with overdue guilt. You decide that dealing with the discomfort for the rest of the night wasn’t worth it.

“Hey, uhh,” You start. “By the way, I’m sorry about how things went down between us. You know, how we ended and all.”

“Hey, ancient history.” She assures. “It was honestly fun while it lasted, but I still think it was for the best.”

“Still, I honestly do still regret how I was back then.”

“Nah, don’t be so hard on yourself. I don’t think it would have worked out regardless.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” You hesitantly agree. “Probably should have put in more effort on my part, though.”

“I don’t really think that was the case,” Adriana says. “It was just sort of obvious at one point that you were just way into someone else so much more than you were into me.”

You cringe.

Damn. Was I that bad at hiding how much I liked Abby back then? Sorry for being such a shitty girlfriend, Adriana…

“Was I that obvious?” You ask remorsefully, grimacing.

“A little,” Adriana chuckles. “But it’s okay. She was obviously more your type than I was.”

“You think?”

“I mean, I think Ellie Williams is a lot of girls’ type, at least around here.”

Everything around you freezes immediately as you feel your heart come to a stop. Your throat closes up at the same time that your hands grow cold and clammy.

E-Ellie?

Before you’re able to wrench yourself from your petrified state, Adriana speaks again.

“Oh, I think I see my partner up there. I’m gonna move up closer, but I’ll meet up with you guys later on, okay?”

She glances at you for half a second to give a short farewell smile before walking towards the stage where another band member with an electric guitar slung around their shoulders has joined the others.

You remain suspended in the moment Adriana had left you behind with. The rest of Abby’s friend group was busy drunkenly conversing with one another to notice your near-comatose state. A deafening ringing resonates in your ears, the sounds of the expectant crowd and the tuning of instruments completely drowned out.

Ellie…

Your eyes wander towards the middle of the dancefloor that is currently occupied by unfamiliar audience members. Without warning, you’re suddenly and unwillingly ripped back into your memories.

“Look, I’m really not interested!” You yelled over the music blaring from the DJ station on the stage. “I’m sorry!”

“Oh, come on,” A woman at least ten years your senior griped. “We’re just dancing! Doesn’t have to mean anything!”

You attempted to tug her hands away that were clutching your hips far too intimately, but her grip was tight and unrelenting.

“Please, just leave me alone!” You implored the handsy stranger.

“Don’t be like that now!” She exclaims. “Let’s just see where this takes us and—”

Her sentence was cut short by a sudden fist in the air colliding with her face. Even over the loud bass drops, you could hear a crunch that you were almost sure was the sound of the woman’s nose being broken.

“What the FUCK, you fucking cunt!” She screamed.

You looked over at your saviour assailant to see an outraged Ellie.

“You like harassing innocent girls, bitch?” Ellie spat. “Don’t know how to keep your hands to yourself? Well, it seems like I can’t either.”

You saw Ellie winding up to attack once more, and you quickly grabbed her right arm before she could move any further.

“Ellie! Ellie, it’s okay, I’m fine! It’s not that—”

“This bitch thinks she can do whatever the fuck she wants to you!” Ellie hissed towards the stranger who was slowly retreating into the crowd, cowering at Ellie’s growing fury.

“It’s okay, I’m not hurt!”

“It’s not fucking okay!”

“Ellie, baby, please, let’s just move—”

The rest of your sentence was cut off when Ellie angrily marched off towards the staircase leading back down to the main floor of the bar.

You nearly tripped over your high-heeled boots trying to run after her.

“Ellie!”

A firm hand on your shoulder transports you back to the present. You jump and look up to see Abby has returned, your hazy eyes meeting her blue ones.

“You good?” Abby asks.

“Oh, um, yeah, sorry.” You utter. “Just spaced out there for a second.”

Abby chuckles and says, “Already lost without me even after a few minutes, pretty girl?”

You give her flirty joke a half-hearted smile before turning towards the stage, realizing that the band is about to play.

They start out with their own rendition of Paramore’s “All I Wanted,” and you note to yourself that they were actually quite good. But as they progress through the song, you find yourself unable to fully concentrate on their performance.

Ellie…

Abby and her friends cheer and yell in support as the music comes to a momentary end. You barely register the lead singer introducing their next song, an original of theirs called “Waiting in the Wings.”

You feel Abby move closer towards you, her body radiating heat onto you. At this sudden contact, you force yourself to be more present in the moment and attempt to push all thoughts of Ellie out of your mind.

The song begins in a minor key, starting off slow as the lead singer begins to croon.

🎶 There’s a million people in this room who want me more than you // There’s a million people who want me more than you

There’s no one in this world who loves you like I do // There’s no one in this world who loves you like I do 🎶

You watch as the crowd of people nod along to the song, some already preemptively whooping.

🎶 Alone in a crowded room, I wish I was with you // Whether I’m here or there, it doesn’t matter to you

But you don’t know what you have ‘til it leaves you // You don’t know what you have until it leaves you 🎶

You suddenly feel one of Abby’s arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you in closer to her.

🎶 There’s a line of people waitin’ for this to fall through // There’s a line of people waitin’ for me to leave you

So please, baby, love me like I love you 🎶

You can feel Abby’s piercing blue eyes gazing at your face, expectantly and determinedly.

🎶 Someone here wants me, they want me more than you // Someone here wants me, they want me more than you

There’s someone here who wants me, they want me more than you // There’s someone here who wants me, they want me more than you 🎶

Despite this aching feeling bubbling in your stomach, you will yourself to meet Abby’s stare.

🎶 There’s a million people in this room who want me more than you // There’s a million people who want me more than you

There’s no one in this world who loves you like I do // There’s no one in this world who loves you like I do 🎶

Abby begins to lower her face, her lips nearly touching yours. Her breath tickles your cheeks before you suddenly pull away from her embrace.

The crowd is distracted as the song ends, applauding and sounding off in response. As their cheering eventually dies down, you watch as Abby’s face falls a little and an expression of slight regret is painted across her features.

“O-oh, oh my god, Abby, I’m so sorry,” You quickly explain. “I didn’t mean to pull away like that; I swear to god, you just surprised me, that’s all.”

You knew that it was all quickly strewn lies streaming from your lips, but you didn’t want to ruin Abby’s night by making her feel guilty. You pray that she believes your feeble excuses, and it thankfully seems that she does.

“Serves me right for trying to sneak a kiss from you out of nowhere,” She says, smirking lightly. “I’ll do better next time.”

“It’s okay, it’s just the tequila,” You laugh shakily. “Even just a few sips of it kind of makes my emotions a wild card.”

“Well, you did warn me earlier,” Abby remarks, smiling. “No tequila next time; got it.”

You chuckle nervously, biting the inside of your cheek.

Abby begins to say something when Nora suddenly grabs her attention.

“Oh my god, Abs, that’s the girl I was telling you about before,” Nora exclaims, pointing in a vague direction where it was indistinguishable who she was referring to. “See with the long ponytail?”

“Holy shit, where?” Abby asks distractedly, looking away from you and towards where Nora's gesturing.

Seeing an opportunity, you place your hand lightly on Abby’s arm before saying, “Just gonna run down to the restroom for a quick second, okay?”

Abby turns back towards you and asks, “Do you want me to come with?”

You muster enough bravado to jokingly say, “Believe it or not, I actually know how to pee all on my own like a big girl.”

“Alright, alright,” Abby chuckles. “Hurry back.”

You give her a noncommittal smile before weaving your way out of the crowd and towards the staircase.

The bar’s gender-neutral restrooms were your first choice in brief sanctuary, but that plan was immediately foiled when you see the long line leading towards it. You sigh and resort to walking out the front door of the bar to catch your breath outside instead.

Though it was much later in the night, the weekend guaranteed plenty of college students noisily roaming the streets of the downtown area. Wanting not to be disturbed, you reluctantly turn into the dingy alleyway to the left of the Bow and Arrow.

A couple of people pass through the dark street, but you feel safe positioning yourself underneath the closest streetlamp as none of them lingered for too long.

Sighing as you lean against the cold, stone wall of the next-door building, you look up at the lamp post you’d chosen as your temporary companion. You place a hand on its cool, metal base, remembering the last time you stood underneath its dim luminescence.

“Why, Ellie?” You asked her. “Why’d you take it to that extreme?”

Ellie’s eyes bore into you, the unspoken truth threatening to overflow from the ocean green.

“You know why.” She said softly.

“I—” You began, your lips trembling in hesitation.

“You do, don’t you?” Ellie whispers.

You don’t respond. Without thought or consideration, you find your body pressed up against Ellie’s, your mouth instinctively finding that of her own.

The moment your lips met hers, you knew you never wanted to kiss any other lips but hers again.

Every knowing and deliberate look, every inside joke, every accidental brush of your hands led up to this exact moment. And yet nothing could have prepared you for the bliss, the euphoria of finally kissing Ellie. Her strong, muscular arms wrapped around your waist, nearly lifting you off of the ground to pull you closer. You surrendered to your body’s instinct, almost as if fate was guiding it.

The meaning of life laid behind Ellie’s lips, and what other choice did you have but to fervently search for it?

You didn’t remember when you’d wrapped your arms around Ellie’s neck, only realizing you had done so when you found your fingers clutching at her auburn hair so firmly that her half-bun updo threatened to come undone. The more Ellie moaned into you, the tighter your grip on her hair became.

You’d both forgotten where you were and how you’d gotten there. You just knew that you were no longer standing in that dark alleyway next to the Bow and Arrow. You were suddenly in this completely separate universe, a vast yet secret galaxy that consisted only of you and Ellie. It belonged to nobody else but you two. Nothing else mattered anymore, only you and Ellie and your little infinity.

But you didn’t exist there anymore. It’s two years later, and you no longer live in that bubble of romance and fantasy.

You step away from the wall, staring up at the clear, black sky. You try but fail desperately not to find the intricate patterns of Ellie’s freckles replicated in the constellations above.

That universe of yours and Ellie’s was no longer within your grasp. It’s a place you hadn’t allowed yourself to visit for an eternity. This present moment, lonely and nostalgic, is the closest you can find to it. It was like a narrow, cruel window that allowed only a glimpse at the heaven you once knew.

You sigh. Reluctantly tearing your eyes away from Ellie’s celestial clones, you bid farewell to your brief, ill-lit hideout and exit back to the main sidewalk. You make your way once more towards the front door of the Bow and Arrow, knowing that you would make Abby worry if you lingered too long outside of the bar.

author’s notes:

it's here it's here, it's finally here. can y'all believe i've really written TEN whole chapters of this fucking series? the word count is literally like, 40k. what the hell!

as mentioned and linked above, i created a playlist for this series if you wanna check it out! it's all songs that are either mentioned or included in the series, in addition to songs that i feel match the vibe of the story! i will continue to add to it as we progress (and if you pay attention, i may add some songs preemptively right before publishing a chapter that may have to do with that specific chapter)

again, if you lowkey recognize the lesbian bar i very, very loosely based the bow and arrow on, no you don't

jay is lowkey inspired by my irl ex-girlfriend adriana's friends back in college who had a similar physical description and i was lowkey more attracted to than adriana herself oops

the song in this chapter is by the band called equal creatures where my very good friend laurie is the lead singer! if you love me, please check them out!

sorry to make the creep hitting on the reader in the flashback a woman, but sexual harassment is not gender exclusive and i wanted to showcase that as well.

the line "the moment your lips met hers, you knew you never wanted to kiss any other lips but hers again" is heavily inspired by valerie's speech from the "v for vendetta" movie (if you haven't seen the movie, even if you have no intentions of actually watching it, please watch this scene, it's so fucking moving and it's one of my all-time favourite scenes in cinematic history, no joke)! the line is said at the 2-minute mark!

reader and ellie's first kiss is also heavily inspired by my first kiss with my ex (it was romantic as hell, ask me one day to tell y'all how it happened)

taglist: @lonelyfooryouonly, @elliesinterlude, @sawaagyapong, @peppesgirl, @iconsoft, @maybeidohaveadhd, @ellieswifee, @valiantllamapersonpony-blog, @nil-eena, @echostinn

@uraesthete, @softbunlvr, @cherriesxinthespring, @amitycat, @thefishymissy, @yevheniiaaaa, @machetegirl109, @bertandfearnie, @ximtiredx, @efam

@elliesnumber1gf, @digit4lslut, @tayyyystan, @emothurman, @livvy-2000, @abigaillovestoread, @gold-dustwomxn, @liabadoobee, @yuckyfucky, @qtefolleunpez

@libr4sonsa, @17luv, @robinismywifee, @villainousbear, @ashlynnnnnnnn15, @scarlettadore, @vianna99, @g0n3girls, @totheblood, @embermdk

@awyunh, @kenz-ee, @marvelwomen-simp, @eleactric, @simpforellie, @omgidksblog, @anxiouso, @nyrastar, @lillysbigwilly, @hopeless-y

@elliesbabygirl, @alexpritch, @thestarsanctuary, @aethelwyneleigh27, @cass00x, @mulan-but-gay, @carmellie, @destielcore, @tfuuka, @elliewilliamsmissingfingerss

@sagestuffing, @ewwitsbella, @igoferalforelliewilliams, @miaelliesgfxoxo, @saturnvalentine, @elysiagyaru, @asteroidzzzn, @gay4jinx, @97cityy, @joliettes

@p1llowthoughtss, @ellieslegalwife, @aouiaa, @lez-zuha, @ineffablefics, @peepshake, @lil-elliesgf

#nobody compares to you series #ellie williams #dealer!ellie #ellie x reader #ellie x you #ellie x y/n #the last of us #tlou #the last of us part 2 #tlou2 #ellie fanfiction #Spotify #audio #belle speaks #v #belle writes

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jedipoodoo · 4 months ago

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Singin' In The Rain (Sergeant Hunter x Reader)

Obligatory wet hair Hunter screenshot courtesy of @saltyseaturtle bc tunglr won't let me add any good gifs

Notes: Idiots in Love(TM), dividers by @ve-ti-ver and @freesia-writes. Hunter listens to Dad Rock almost exclusively and sounds amazing.

"Finally, a bed!" You sighed in relief, shoving past Wrecker into Clone Force Ninety-Nine's bunkroom. After six months straight of switcing out the smelly bunks on the Marauder, you were ready for an actual mattress and a pillow to sleep on. You tossed your medikit on the floor and took a flying leap onto the bed closest to the door, armor and all.

"You do realize that's my bed, right sweetheart?" Hunter asked.

"And what of it? You're gonna be up writing reports all night anyway," You shrugged, hugging his pillow to your chest. It had been immaculately made up with military corners before you landed on it and mussed all the sheets.

Hunter sauntered over, resting his arm against the bedframe above his head, "Well, I was hoping to write the reports from the comfort of my own bed."

"Yeesh! Get a room!" Crosshair flicked a toothpick that hit the back of Hunter's head, and you giggled as Hunter glared at his brother. Tech settled himself comfortably at his work table in the center of the room, and Wrecker just grinned, all three of them daring Hunter to say something. You wondered why it took him so long to actually move, until finally, he stood up and stepped away from his bed.

"Alright lads, I'm gonna hit the showers," Hunter said, stretching out his back with the groan of a man twice his physical age, "The rest of you should probably do the same."

"Yeah, sure thing, Sarge!" Wrecker said, with a distracted tone that meant he probably wasn't going to get around to it. Tech waved him off, and Crosshair had already draw the curtains around the enclosure around his bed that he'd made with spare crates. Hunter rolled his eyes, grabbed a towel and his shower gear, and disappeared into the refresher.

With everyone settled, the room quieted, which was a stark contrast to the usual volume on the Marauder. Everyone knew that Hunter loved his shower time, especially when they had fresh running water. He could take hours you scrub the dirt from his sensitive skin and get his hair properly conditioned. If hunter got first shower, it was a safe bet that no one else would get in a shower that evening, even if he didn't end up using all of Tipoca City's hot water supply.

Wrecker began snoring in his bunk almost immediately, but it took Tech almost an hour before he finally fell asleep on top of his work project. You'd removed your armor to lie down more comfortably, but you couldn't quite get to sleep.

You and Hunter shared a lot of things, including but not limited to--canteens, blankets, blaster polish, personal space, even a ration bar or two. Living on a cramped ship got you very up close and personal with the rest of the crew, but was it really okay for you to take his own bed? You ran through the conversation again and again. You could almost swear Hunter was playing along with you, but you were still new enough to the squad as their medic that your place among the boys, these brothers, was still uncertain.

In the midst of your whirlpool of thoughts, another sound broke through the incessant white noise of the Kaminoan rain. It sounded like someone singing, but Wrecker snored again before you could make it out. When Wrecker paused to take a deep breath, you heard it again, and it was coming from the refresher unit.

You sat up on Hunter's bunk, and the lights, automatically dimmed from the lack of movement, turned on suddenly. You sprinted to the door to shut them off before they could wake up Tech. Already on your feet, you might as well listen closely.

Quietly, you made your way to the door of the refresher, kneeling beside the doorframe to listen. The tile was great for the acoustics, and despite the sound of rushing water, you could hear Hunter's voice singing loud and clear.

He was singing an emotional ballad from one of those rock bands your father always had playing. Kids at school called it lame, mostly just because anything that an adult enjoyed couldn't be interesting, but with Hunter singing the lyrics, it became so much more meaningful to you. The emotion in his voice was passionate as he sang about being in love with someone and being willing to do anything for them.

This one was your favorite as a kid. Most of the songs by this band were sad, lonely ballads about losing the love of their life. this one was just as emotional, but definitely had a happier ending.

Unknowingly, you started singing along, providing the melody to his beautiful tenor. You were so enamored by the music you and Hunter were both making that you didn't realize that the water had stopped running.

Hunter at least had the courtesy to let you finish the song, but no sooner had you crooned the final note than the door to the fresher slid open, and there stood Hunter, water dripping down his bare chest with a towel draped around his shoulders. You felt the heat rising in your cheeks.

"Hi?" You whispered, more of a question than a greeting.

"Hey," Hunter leaned against the doorframe.

Your eyes darted to avoid meeting his, but they were instantly drawn to a single drop of water slowly running down his chest and over his tummy, which hung out a bit over the waistband of his trousers. You quickly looked back up.

"See something you like?" Hunter asked with a grin. You leaped to your feet as if you were going to run away, but instead you rammed your head right into his nose.

"Kark!" You gasped, holding your head. It was sore, but you hardly had a bruise. Hunter had his nose pinched shut in a pre-emptive move to stem the flow of blood.

"Shoot, Hunter, I'm so sorry, let me take a look."

"I-it's not broken," Hunter tried to tell you.

"I'll be the judge of that," You grabbed a washcloth from the refresher and dragged him back over to the bunk, prying his hand from his nose. After prodding it this way and that, it was evident that Hunter's nose wasn't broken. This time, at least.

"I'm sorry, Hunter," You whispered, trying not to wake his brothers now that the coast was clear.

"You're fine," He waved it off, but accepted the ice pack you pulled from your bag and leaned back against the wall, "I shouldn't have come on so strong."

You froze, sitting just a foot away.

"You were coming onto me?"

Hunter froze, and you watched his throat bob nervously.

"Yeah. That's...if you're okay with it?" He mumbled.

You fisted your hand around the cushioning of Hunter's pillow. Here you were sitting in his bunk, and Hunter was asking you if you were okay flirting with him?

A toothpick shot across the room and hit the side of your head.

"If the two of you are going to make out, would you please get back in the shower?"

"Cross!" Hunter lobbed the ice pack in return and the sniper retreated back into his nest. Tech snorted in his sleep, and Wrecker mumbled something about a gundark's mother, but neither of them seemed to wake up.

Hunter studied each of his brothers to make sure you had adequate privacy before looking back to you.

You gave a little giggle and Hunter huffed a laugh through his nose, only to wince in pain.

"You sure you're okay?" You asked. Your hand was on his shoulder for a reassuring touch before you remembered he wasn't wearing a shirt.

"I'm fine, sweetheart," He promised. You felt warm again. In this recent revelation, his usual nickname for you didn't feel as casual as you'd assumed it was.

"Yeah," you said softly.

"Yeah what?" Hunter said. His amber eyes were making you dizzy.

"Oh, uh, yeah, I'm okay with you flirting with me." You said lamely.

This wasn't how big romantic moments were supposed to go, right? You weren't supposed to hit your lover in the nose when he tried to make a move on you, and you certainly weren't supposed to sound like a blubbering Hutt when you finally accepted his advances.

Despite all the "supposed to's", Hunter smiled up at you, his face alight with joy. It was evident that the Bad Batch's penchant for disregarding the rules applied to their love lives too.

"Your voice sounded really pretty," He said, sitting up and scooting a bit closer to you on the mattress. He wasn't quite touching you, but his hand rested next to yours.

"Oh please," you rolled your eyes, "I sound like a mynock when I sing."

"Don't say that," Hunter said. His voice was soft in volume, but sharp in tone. You had no choice but to meet his impassioned gaze.

He was trembling slightly. You could see it in the droplets of water that clung to his stray locks of damp hair. Bravely, he lifted a hand to gently tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

"I love listening to you sing." He said.

He couldn't keep making you spiral like this. If he kept saying things like this to you, you were going to faint on his karking bed.

"Well," You scooted closer, knee to knee, with a hand on his thigh. His eyes went wide and his breathing hastened as you leaned in, his nose nearly touching yours.

"I could say the same for you, Sergeant Hunter. Anyone ever tell you that you have the voice of an angel of Iego?"

"N-no, n-never came up before." Hunter's hands twitched, unsure of where to put them.

Jackpot.

You took one of his hands, guiding it to the mattress to help him balance himself, and place the other on your waist. You held his hands in place, unwilling to let go. The two of you sat there, until your breathing synchronized.

In, and out. In, and out.

It was actually kind of nice, even if it was a bit awkward.

"What happens now?" Hunter asked.

"I...dunno," You whispered, "I guess we could kiss."

Your faces were so close you almost missed his eyebrows shooting up. He quickly looked around the bunkroom, wondering if any of his brothers had heard your offer.

"Do...do you want to kiss?" Hunter asked.

Had it been all you could dream about since you first met Hunter? Yes. Were you thinking clearly enough in this moment? No.

"It might be a little too soon for that." You gave Hunter his hands back, sitting back on the bunk.

The tension vanished from Hunter's shoulders, "Oh, right."

It was impossible to miss the disappointment in his tone as he toweled off his hair, tossing the wet towel onto Tech's table and kicking aside various accoutrements in the search for a shirt that fit him.

You bit your lip, "That doesn't mean kissing is entirely off the table, though."

"It's not?" Hunter stopped with his head halfway through one of Crosshair's shirts.

You interwove your fingers, stretching them back and forth, "I...this was nice."

He nodded quickly, "Yeah, I thought it was nice too."

"You're both nice. Now shut up and let the rest of us sleep." Crosshair snarled from a cocoon of blankets that weren't his.

"Shut up!"

You snickered, holding Hunter's pillow on your lap, and Hunter marched back over to the bunk.

"I...suppose you want your bed back tonight," You said, even as you tucked your feet up underneath yourself.

Hunter shrugged, and you could see that his shoulders were far too broad for the tight fit of Crosshair's body glove.

"I think the phrase is, some people will...sing for their supper."

You glared at him. "You wouldn't dare."

Hunter raised his hands in a display of vulnerability, "Only if you want to."

You sighed, almost resigning yourself you another night of sleeping on the unforgiving floor, when you got your own brilliant idea.

"Only if you sing with me."

"That's not how this works-" Hunter tried to protest.

"Isn't it?" You teased, batting your lashes up at him, "You wouldn't have heard me singing if you hadn't been the one singing in the first place."

Hunter's hand came out of nowhere, but his touch was as gentle as the fur of a newborn tooka as he tilted your chin up to look at him.

"You drive a hard bargain, sweetheart."

This bastard knew exactly what he could do to you. Fortunately, you knew just how to drive him crazy in return. Before he could react, you placed your hand on his arm and gave him a sharp tug, pulling him down to lay on the bed beside you.

"Takes two to tango, Sarge."

Hunter was speechless as he stared into your eyes. You turned to settle into bed, but Hunter grabbed you by the shoulder, "We made a deal," He whispered in your ear. He smelled like the sharp pines of Kashyyyk, not at all like the generic soap and shampoo the GAR handed out.

Crazy indeed.

You rolled on your side to face him, untucking his blanket to wrap yourself up.

"What song did you have in mind?"

Hunter mulled it over for a bit, giving you the chance to admire the little wrinkle that appeared between his eyes when he was deep in thought. When he finally sang the first words of his chosen song, soft and hiding in the back of his throat so as not to disturb his brothers, it was another love ballad. You had to appreciate his taste in songs. This one was about two lovers, determined to weather any storm with their partner by their side. You'd appreciated it when it was first released. Never did you imagine that you'd sing it with a partner of your own.

True to your word, you sang with Hunter, letting him pull you closer until your head rested on his chest, his heartbeat keeping time for your song.

You fell asleep before you could finish the bridge, feeling warm and content with Hunter. And he certainly didn't mind.

#lizart writes #tbb hunter x reader #sergeant hunter x reader #the bad batch x reader #the bad batch hunter x reader #hunter bad batch x reader #sergeant hunter x you #tbb hunter x you #crosshair is a little butthole

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arctrooper69 · 7 months ago

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As Iron Sharpens Iron

"As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another." Proverbs 27:17

Chapter 19

Previous // Next

Warnings: Whump, head trauma, blood, vomit, broken bones.

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An impossibly high pitched ringing echoed from somewhere was your first introduction to conscious thought. It pierced through your skull, rendering all other senses useless.

“...an… ou…. me?”

Words that your mind refused to grasp tangled with searing, icy pain that had no focal point. It was just there, throbbing, pounding, squeezing with every heartbeat - sharp and jagged with every breath. Chest muscles balked, screaming with every spasming gasp, no longer allowing for any semblance of disciplined control.

The ground was wet where your cheek rested upon it. It smelt of iron and your fingers curled around handfuls of dirt and stone, nails chipping in a desperate attempt to stop the sickening whirlwind of vertigo. The blurry chaos of movement seemed to last only a moment before you found yourself once again fighting to open heavy eyelids.

***

The acrid stench of vomit mixed with stale earth assaulted your senses, burning your nostrils and stinging your eyes.

Blinking into a vague awareness once more, a brief sensation of something light, fluttered about your skin, wiping away the sick from your face. Calloused fingers found their perch on your jaw thrusting gently until you found it easier to breathe, holding your head in a steady grasp that your whirring mind barely registered. Just another thing to desperately grasp onto, only to have it torn away in seconds.

“...ook at me! Co… on!”

You felt yourself slipping. It felt right lying there in Hunter's arms. Safe. The way his palms cupped your cheeks, the way his fingers supported your neck. It didn't hurt as much anymore. The leg and ribs had become only a throbbing ache and the ringing confusion in your head seemed only a minor nuisance.

You could almost ignore that lingering alarm screaming from the recesses of your mind, subconscious taking over with the training drilled into you time and time again so that even now despite the muted chaos, you knew that if you fell asleep now, you wouldn't wake up. But the weight of your own body was proving to be much too hard to resist.

Rest now. It's okay.

It called to you, whispering a sweet lullaby - a siren song intent on pulling you into the warm embrace of eternal comfort.

No…. A smaller voice argued - fighting the urge to give in with tooth and nail.

I can't leave him now.... Not now.

But Hunter's hands felt warm. It was so easy to imagine laying curled up on his chest - like bathing in a puddle of golden afternoon sun. His amber eyes held the intensity of forever.

I could stay like this forever.

Away from the pain, the dust and ever dusky sky of the moon that had so greedily swallowed you twice with it’s yawning orifices that desperately wanted to claim your body for it’s own.

The frantic voice that called you no longer seemed important as they faded. The hands that held you felt secure. You weren't going anywhere.

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@zoeykallus @ttzamara @nahoney22 @merkitty49 @viva-la-whump

@agenteliix @dumpsters-little-matchbook @nekotaetae @ladykatakuri @loverofclones

@heyitsaloy @padawancat97 @jambolska-grozdova @flyingkangaroo @melymigo

@the-rain-on-kamino @jiabae @my-own-oracle @dragonrider9905 @queenofspades6

@ordinarylokix @jupitersaturnapollo @queencousland101 @vampire-rogue @southernbaguette

@staycalmandhugaclone @dalu-grantkylo @dangraccoon @aconstructofamind @sev-on-kamino

@sol-the-otter @pb-jellybeans @atomickidsoul @caitnotfound @ghostlyembassy

@skellymom @freesia-writes @trixie2023 @jedipoodoo @reader6898

@all-mights-babygirl @arcsimper5 @red-robin-yum08 @wintersnnowie @whore-of-many-hot-men

@theeyesofasoldier @griffedeloup @starswhores @totallyunidentified @waytooldforthis78

If you want to be on my taglist, feel free to send me a message! Also, asks are open! Reblogging is very much encouraged and it makes me do a happy dance every time any of my writing gets reblogged 😂❤️

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freesia-writes · 1 month ago

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Behind the Scenes of a Writer's Mind

I noticed something tonight that I thought might be helpful to share. You [hopefully] often hear fanfic writers urging interaction and support. It may seem selfish or prideful at first glance, but there's a lot more to it. Have a seat. 😉

The best metaphor I've heard is someone who loves cooking for others. Yes, they do it because they like it, but there's a deep gratification in sharing that work and talent with others and getting to hear how much it was loved and enjoyed. Same with writing.

I asked my favorite author @dystopicjumpsuit about her works -- which had the most emotional impact, which was the tastiest smut, which is her best piece, etc -- and was delighted to hear her answers because there were elements that I hadn't known or noticed, and it made me so excited to read them again (and a few for the first time, haha). It gave a new appreciation, a neat back story, and a richer experience to the fics. (READ THE ASK/ANSWER HERE)

She turned the ask back on me, and while I hadn't expected that, I was surprised at the process as I tried to answer. I had taken a good half a year off from writing after finishing the Hunter longfic. I had poured my heart and soul into it, and when it was done posting, it was kinda... empty. Life also was fairly crazy, so this side of me kinda went away for a while. I still wanted to write. I missed being here. But there was just no inspiration or motivation, and you can't force that.

But something neat happened when DJ gave me the chance to consider my own work. I reread some oldies. I smiled at things I'd forgotten about. The questions forced me to look at the good parts, my favorite parts, the best parts that I'm most proud of.

As a writer, it's easy to forget that. You get used to writing, you get used to your style and approach and voice, and sometimes it just gets to a point of "why bother"? ESPECIALLY if there's no feedback from readers. But it was awesome to be reminded of how my writing brings me joy, and that it's a particular area of gifting but also something that's honed and developed and refined over the years.

Considering the beautiful elements of what I've been able to create breathed fresh life into me. It brought confidence where there had been indifference. It reminded me of the fun of writing and the unpredictable nature of how it all goes down. It rekindled some of that joy of bringing delight to others with my time and effort. It rejuvenated the creative part of me that loves the process as well as the product.

So WRITERS -- if you're in a pit, perhaps read some of your own stuff. Enjoy it. Read works by other authors you love and ask them about it -- it'll likely remind you of some experiences of your own. But also, if the motivation isn't there, don't sweat it. Enjoy what you can and, if the fickle mistress of inspiration returns, bang that thang til fics fall out. (I'll see myself out, thank you.)

And READERS -- you enjoy what we create, yeah? Do you know that you'd likely enjoy it wayyy more if you had a lil behind-the-scenes knowledge? It truly enriches the experience all around, AND it's so encouraging to authors to be able to share not only the finished product but some of the joy of the process. So don't be afraid -- drop some asks, leave questions in reblogs, engage!!

If you've read this far (without skipping, you weasels), please consider this a free ticket for a fic request. ;) Drop one in my inbox and we shall see if the gods smile upon my mushy brain and clumsy fingers. But also, thank you for reading, and I hope that both writers and readers are encouraged to enjoy this space more fully!

FREESIA OUT 😘

#hot damn #ya girl got on a roll #too bad this didn't go toward a fic #LOL #but still worthwhile I think!#I think I just need some Crosshair d--#DISCOURSE you perverts #or something that ends in 'course'#hehehehe #please take my computer away from me

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rebo-chan · 7 months ago

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Hello, everyone. To today's episode of Tumblr user Rebo-chan loses her mind and assigns each and every Vongola guardian a flower that I have painstakingly searched high and low for (I wish I was being dramatic, I got too invested in this as I worked on it). Is this done in a state of mania? Perhaps, but I am diseased by COVID-19 as we speak and this is what I will do with the time I am meant to be resting with. Nonetheless we must get started. Content under the cut, because I can NEVER make a short post. It's against my core beliefs clearly.

Sawada Tsunayoshi:

The European Orange Lily (Lilium bulbiferum)

My reasoning for this starts with the fact that the "lily" itself has a lot of different meanings, but the important aspect of the lily is that its considered the spring flower and represents often meanings of renewal and rebirth. The very messaging for our sweet boy, a life restarted after he meets his mentor. An orange lily specifically has meanings dipped into warmth, joy, passion (In regards to his devotion to those he loves), 'welcoming' to new opportunities in your life (lol), and most importantly - confidence and pride. Something that he grows to be over the course of his renewal, pride in his friends. Confidence in his strength to protect them. KHR is a story about a nobody becoming somebody strong enough to protect them, even and especially when they falter themselves. It should also be noted that in Hanakotoba (Japanese flower language), orange lilies represent 'revenge and hatred'. Which I think is a factor of Tsuna we can't ignore, as sweet as he is, TYL Tsuna's actions become darker the more you think about them. Tsuna can and has killed when a villain has overstepped too far, and never forget that he just wanted to know "who" Yamamoto's attacker was. For no reason, just to look at him, maybe shake his hand lol. Fr though, that boy's made of fire, both to keep his loved ones warm and to burn their enemies. I think the orange lily fits him nicely.

Also yes, I'll do my best to color-code these flowers~

Gokudera Hayato:

A Red Fressia

So, its quite hard actually to find any sort of 'red' flowers that aren't about some sort of romantic-esque devotion. Just being a red flower inherently puts you in that category of 'passion, love, marriage' meanings when it comes to flowers. It's a real struggle, but luckily he's our only red character amongst the Vongola kids. Okay, so the Freesia is represented by the concept of friendship and ultimate trust. I think it was easier for me to find a flower that represents devotion or duty and tack it on to Gokudera, but I think that's just looking at him on the surface. The story behind the freesia is that the botanist who found them in South Africa decided to name it after his friend as a symbol of their friendship. Very lovely :)<3 For all of Gokudera's dutiful affection for Tsuna, a lot of it is based on the fact that Tsuna was his first friend and the person who he trusted first. His eventual character growth and bonding with the other guardians came as he allowed himself to trust them, when he realized that his 'duty' that he believed to be absolute was above his bonds. Rather, it's his bonds that strengthen his resolve to be the perfect right hand man. Due to the intense representation of friendship and trust, freesias are given to a loved one to represent commitment to them, not unlike Gokudera's commitment to Tsuna and therefore the Vongola family unit. It should also be noted that in Hanakotoba, freesias also have a negative meaning which is childishness and immaturity which I do feel is something that Gokudera has to work through in order to become the best version of himself and has done quite well at by the end of the series. He's our little friendship blossom :)<3 Yamamoto Takeshi: Himalayan Blue Poppy

Let me start this by complaining that 'blue' flowers are so fucking rare, it took me forever to find something matched and was also color-coded with Yamamoto, that didn't dip into too indigo, because of the rarity of a nicely blue flower. To start, blue as a color has all those lovely Yamamoto vibes of being calming, easy on the mind, tranquility, all that beautiful stuff we know Yamamoto to be. (It's almost like Amano color-coded her characters guys..) Poppies themselves got a bit of cultural significance in the West, being the flowers given to WW1 soldiers after they'd passed as a way of remembrance. They're also known for growing in desolate war-torn areas, just a patch of poppies as well as having many soldiers buried with a poppy with them in honor. With that the poppy itself has themes of death, honor, lessons, tradition and remembrance. With Yamamoto’s connection to the Poppy flower, Yamamoto himself is..pretty death-coded. HEAR ME OUT. HEAR !! ME OUT!!!! Varia arc, Squalo ‘dies’ against Yamamoto. Future arc, Tsuyoshi is killed for Yamamoto being involved with the Vongola, Shimon with Yamamoto himself getting nearly killed and then that big moment where he offers to kill Daemon in retaliation for what was done to Kaoru. While not canon as well, the primo fillers are about Yamamoto dealing with the fact he DIDNT kill daisy and how he felt he had to be less easy-natured and actually go for the kills from now on. And of course, his attempt during daily life when he could not do what he loved anymore. He’s VERY death-coded y’all. But the poppy itself isn’t just some omen of death, but the lessons one can gather from those who have passed. Yamamoto’s own battle style is about taking the lessons of those before him who carried Shigure Soen Ryu and then growing upon that to carve a new and improved future for himself and those he cares about. He adapts to their lessons, what Squalo and Tsuyoshi have to teach him. On the fly, continuing the Shigure legacy and creating more moves to eventually pass on to the one that succeeds him. In general, he carries any lessons he has up until the end of the series and tries to never make the same mistake again. Whether that’s his lessons against the Mists he’s battled, his loss against Squalo for not having a proper sword style, and though he doesn’t get a chance against Gamma again, he’s always understood the importance of teamwork. That being said, he’s not just a poppy. He’s a Himalayan Blue Poppy. You see the himalayan blue poppy has a different meaning outside that of the ones that the other poppies do. With its rarity, it also represents success, potential, pursuit of dreams, and possibility. Yamamoto is the Vongola family’s prodigy, a natural born hitman, the star baseball player on his team. Stuck at a crossroads between his dream and being able to be in a position to protect the ones he loves. An impossibly difficult choice to make, yet Yamamoto handles it with ease. He just won’t choose! He’ll do both! Which fights very nicely with the Hanakatoba meaning of the poppy. “Fun-loving” “A reminder to remember happiness.” Along with general blue color meanings of tranquility, that is Yamamoto to his core, I believe. When things get their worst, he is there to remind everyone that it is never as bad as it feels. To wash away the blood spilled, that is the role of the Vongola Rain Guardian. His crossroad isn’t an issue to him, because that’s not what he fights for! He fights to make things easier for everyone, so they may remember happiness. That sort of thing doesn’t exactly need him to make a choice on his path. Now, does it? If he’s forced to choose, he will just carve out new possibilities for himself and the ones that he loves with the lessons he’s learnt.

Lambo Bovino: Green Envy Zinnia

Contrary to the title, the green envy zinnia has nothing to do with envy. Quite the opposite, actually. The zinnia itself represents endurance (HEAR. ME. OUT LOL), lasting affection, joy, and various other things. So, the zinnia is super fucking tough, again hear me OUTTTT. They bloom all the way from springtime to autumn, something pretty unheard of from flowers which gave them their meaning. A green envy Zinnia specifically represents growth or a journey. Wishes of a healthy and successful growth. And I believe that is the hope for Lambo, as he progresses through the series. He is quite literally a child, both himself and TYL. But that’s just the thing for him, to the one that chose the guardians (Iemitsu, it’s very implied that it was Iemitsu), Lambo is an INVESTMENT. And a correct one if twenty years old Lambo was anything to go by. Not only that, the zinnia represents a joyous endurance. This doesn’t have to be painful for him, and it’s not as he’s allowed to both be a kid in Tsuna’s care while also holding on tight when told to stay out of the fight. (“You have to take the younger me wherever you go, he wants to go with you.”). And as a bit of an angsty little hehe on my part, the zinnia also represents missing those who have passed, that you remember someone and love them even now that they’re not with you. (“Seeing you all again, I thought the day would never happen. It’s making me emotional.”) Honestly, judging by how Lambo fights when he gets the opportunity to properly do it, he just isn’t weak. Destroying Kikyo’s box animal, fighting against Ooyama, and of course against Levi too. In Hanakotoba, the Zinnia represents loyalty. He is their youngest blossom, enjoying being around the one he considers a brother with hidden potentials to grow into someone with the ability to be Vongola’s shield. If the ones he loves ever make it to see that sight, of course.

Ryohei Sasagawa: Yarrow (Achillea millefolium)

Okay, so the yarrow is first of all a funky flower. If you’ve never seen OTHER colors of the yarrow flower, I implore you to google it. Especially the red ones? Why are you so pretty? Lucky enough for this flower (and me I’m starting to lose my mind here, this was a much bigger task than I thought it would be) the different colors don’t change the meaning of the flower here which is neat. It also unfortunately has no hanakotoba meaning either. So, anyway. The yarrow. It represents a warrior’s bravery, protection, and healing. The healing comes from the fact that its a commonly used herb for bruises, cuts, and sprains. There’s also huge folklore around it which affects its scientific name, as Achilles used yarrow to take care of the men he was in charge of. This flower was also used as a ward against evil, where people would hang this outside of their homes in order to protect them from evil getting inside. A superstition developed around this leading to Yarrow to be named the devil’s nettle to refer to the belief that the devil would come around and shake the yarrow that people hung up due to wanting to curse them. This flower also represents strong everlasting love, to the point where a little tradition propped up where people would shove this flower up their nostrils whenever they had a nosebleed so if they dreamt about their crush it meant that they liked them back lol. Yall there was so much rich lore on this flower, it’s super neat. More than I could fit in here. Anyway, I’m sure yall see the connection with Ryohei acting as the group older brother, being the motivating factor for them. He was the first to go up during Varia arc and set the tone for the rest of the battles, that the Vongola would win. Last to show up during future, representing that all of them had finally been reunited. A draw against Aoba, again the very first battle, almost symbolizing HOW shimon would end. He’s the strength in their arms, acting as the last person to leave in future arc until they were ready to go. Taught them and helped lead them to make decisions during that arc. It’s almost his duty to protect the younger ones, even getting up on Hibari’s case in the fillers for not helping out his younger classmen. We can’t even dismiss the way he would prefer to shield Kyoko from everything that they go through, and getting aggressive with Tsuna when Tsuna broke something he thought both of them saw eye to eye on. Not much rattles him, honestly if you pay attention to his scenes, only getting the most nervous and agitated TRULY when he fears he won’t be able to protect someone (Asking Tsuna how Kyoko reacted to the news, Tozaru getting on his case about Lambo coming to the battle) Otherwise, he’s his happy loud confident self ready to tackle on anything for the sake of the family. Destroying the misfortune that attacks the family with their own body, the yarrow represents that duty well. For every bruise the younger one gets, Ryohei has the ability to heal it. For every fear, Ryohei tackles it first. Acting as a ward and protector for his family. Hibari Kyoya

Clematis (Etoile Violette)

Clematis is a climbing flower, to start with. One of those flowers that grow along walls and vines. It’s a very adaptable flower, able to work with various environments and thrive amongst them. They’re known as the traveler’s joy, meant to wish travelers good luck and act as protection to those who pass by them. While also having a more negative reputation, having “killed” other plants by outcompeting them considered having done the devil’s work. (The plant is actually considered invasive aha oops) The clematis though, itself represents mental fortitude, cleverness, and the ability to find hope in perilous situations. Hibari himself, I mean just that back and forth reputation is just him, no? Acting as Namimori’s protector, keeping a watchful eye on the town while also being utterly terrifying for Namimori students and almost overwhelming to those competing with him. (Dino will only find escape from Hibari in death, Mukuro is the same) But, he is also undoubtedly Vongola’s wall. Similar to Ryohei, not once throughout the series really and truly faltering. The clematis itself with its representation in mental fortitude can be given to someone when they need mental strength. I think the best way to represent this is directing you to that moment in Shimon arc when Tsuna, while not physical beaten, had been mentally tormented by everything that had happened and Hibari came to his battle to Adel. A simple, but strong “Little animal, your face right now is dull. Watch my fight.” It’s in that fight Tsuna gets his mental strength back, being given a hint to answer the question he’s been stressing and faltering over. Then there’s future arc, having been the only one TYL Tsuna trusted with the plan. Kokuyo Arc, Gokudera seeing an already defeated Hibari and taking him to the battle. Varia arc, the gang realizing that if Hibari is fighting next then they may have already won it and refusing to succumb to the poison in the sky battle. Rainbow arc, Tsuna considering them in that list of people he “just expects to help him.” He has the ability to be their hope, to be another factor of their strength. Where Ryohei is holding them up on the physical aspect, Hibari is absolutely their mental strength. (Isn’t it charming that the two eldest are the pillars of their group? I think it is). Also, in Hanakotoba, the clematis represents moral beauty and order. And that’s just the kinda man who could run something like the discipline committee, isn’t? The special thing, finally is that the etoile violette represents a sense of freedom from troubles. A free man, unchained himself and choosing to help those younger than him. Sometimes for the thrill of a battle, sometimes to actually help them with the reputation of a devil. Unpredictable, but still trusted. It’s the sky that allows the clouds to roam freely, but even someday that sky will be beaten to death.

Chrome Dokuro

Lupine (Blue Bonnet)

The Lupine flower is before anything else, a second chance at life. A recovery from one’s trauma and the admiration that comes from that. Its gratitude and kindness put into one. There’s a legend around the lupine flower about a land full of drought where Native Americans had believed would be saved by selflessness and yet no one had come forward to do anything, until a young girl came forward and offered the last of her possessions. The rain came to fall at her sacrifice, and hundreds of lupines had blossomed from the ground saving the tribe from drought and hunger as the seeds of the Lupine could be harvested to be eaten. The Lupine represents that the world will always give back if you are willing to help. Chrome, from her introduction, is told to be a girl who has nothing. With two parents who want nothing to do with her and no friends by her side. She runs forward to save a kitten and is gravely injured. With neither of her parents willing to help her, Chrome wonders if she is going to die here but is offered a deal by Mukuro. It’s here that Chrome is offered her second chance and she spends the whole series trying to return the favor to Mukuro. All while healing from her own trauma, the type of trauma that “no one could care about her”, as she is offered food and bonds from Tsuna, Kyoko, Haru, I-pin, Bianchi, Hibari, and so many others. It's in her second chance that she gets to experience what life truly had to offer her, as thank you for her continued selflessness. It’s that gratitude that she represents and the never-ending desire to give when she doesn’t accept Mukuro’s assistance anymore with her organs because she can no longer give him anything now that he’s out of Vindice Prison. She resolves that she will become someone who can protect the people she and Mukuro like. Her confidence isn’t perfect and she falters quite a bit, not believing that her powers are as great as those around her. But, that’s okay, because her goodness has brought her to people who have got her back until she can figure herself out. She has Mammon to correct her when her illusions are seen through that they are well made, but she’s just dealing with professionals and that’s why they’re seen through. There’s Tsuna who relies on her blindly, never doubting her strength to protect them as he asks her to act as defense during Shimon arc and protect Enma from his attack. Alongside with Fran, she is trusted to protect Yamamoto and Gokudera in the final battle against Vindice and taken with Tsuna against Jaegar. She has a lot of space to continue growing, but Lupin also represents voracity and happiness in Hanakotoba. She has her second chance to learn all about that, or as Mukuro put it to her, “An ending is merely the beginning of another cycle.”

Rokudo Mukuro

Aconitum (Wolfsbane)

Wolfsbane is also referred to as Monkshood. This is another one with pretty rich lore with its connection to werewolves. It’s referred to as “queens of the poisons” and has a pretty negative message to it on the outside. First of all, this thing’s poison? TOUGH AS HELL. Delirium, frothing at the mouth, vision impairment, and of course the classic coma<3 It’s got an uncanny resemblance to what rabies actually looks like. Fun, right? Okay, fr though onto its meaning. Wolfsbane is an omen that danger is nearby, not unlike the unnerving feeling Tsuna gets whenever he senses Mukuro nearby. Said to have come from Hell itself, the saliva that has dripped down from Cerberus himself. Not unlike our sweet boy. But, being an omen does not always represent something bad. Is he bringing the danger to you, or is he warning you of the true danger that lies past him? It’s a little bit of both. Aconitum represents concealed wisdom and caution in decision-making. But it also DOES represent protection, a proper and true warning of the dangers of the wild. That beauty does not always mean safe. For his twisted sense of vengeance and believing that taking over the world is the only way to destroy it for the sake of what was done to him, he isn’t necessarily wrong for being enraged about what happened to him. Yet, despite his hate, he doesn’t drag those who he cares about further down into it than he has to. He sends Ken and Chikusa away when they are going to get caught, he never uses Chrome for anything besides as a vessel to help her, and he says during Rainbow arc that if he forced Fran to continue past his limits he’d be no better than those nasty adults of his past. Aconitum balances sweetly between light and darkness, similar to Mukuro. He won’t admit it, but he cares for those amongst the Vongola. He infiltrates the Millefiore and sends the Vongola information after Tsuna’s death, he helps Chrome form a barrier around Enma so he could be safe from Tsuna’s X-Burner. And, of course he teams up with Vongola’s team during the rainbow arc. These are undoubtedly kind actions, but when Tsuna gets angry at Mukuro during Rainbow claiming that he didn’t believe that Mukuro was the type to abandon his allies, Mukuro says that that was just his idea of him. Even though it was Chrome ultimately rejecting him, he instead pretended that he really was some big bad heartless person. Definitely, Mukuro is no angel, but also he’s no demon either. He’s.. just a human at the end. The aconitum’s dance with both light and dark, a flower that tries to warn, can be read both good and bad depending on how you look at it. His rejection of his ‘official’ position as part of the Mafia, yet acting as the Vongola Mist Guardian when their goals align. He’s as confusing as the duty he embodies, but he succeeds nonetheless in ensuring the family is untouchable in his deceptions. After all, the best way to fool your enemies is to fool your allies first.