#will mostly remain lurking

[elodieunderglass]

This was a few miles south of Abergavenny so I’m hoping everyone who blacked out reading this post just because it contained the word Abergavenny will read this one and be activated like a sleeper agent. Abergavenny send me money

“Is it raining?” Dr Glass shouted out of the tent to the children, who were playing under an especially mossy tree.

“We don’t know,” they called back.

“How do you not know?”

“Water is falling on us. But it could just be THE SNAIL.”

“I can explain that,” I interrupted, and showed him this picture.

This is THE SNAIL, which when you go underneath it, drips on you.

[froggiewrites]

Midnight Guest

Pairing: Vampire!Law x Reader

NSFW

Summary: Your roommate is strange, you’ve always known that. Most of his habits seem like harmless eccentricities. His insistence that you lock your door when you sleep, due to his “sleepwalking,” confuses you more than anything. But when you forget one night and awaken to him standing over your bed, teeth bared, you start to think maybe there’s more to Law than meets the eye. Warnings: AFAB!Reader (no pronouns or gendered language used), Smut, Vampirism, Biting, Blood Drinking, Possessive/Obsessive Behavior, Vaginal Sex Word Count: 3.2k Halloween Special 2024

Your roommate was a strange man.

You had always known that, of course, from the moment you stepped foot into the house. It was old, built to be so beautiful and grand you could have confused it for a temple, a place of worship. And the rent he offered was far too good to be true. You couldn’t afford a studio for what he asked you to pay, let alone half of a gothic mansion to be shared with a mysterious and handsome man. There had to be something wrong with him, some reason he would give this offer to you of all people. He insisted it was just too big of a house to live in on his own, too lonely for one person. 

“I just…hate being alone,” he had admitted.

You didn’t believe that, not from someone as quiet as him.

You were extra sure he was strange when you had your first real conversation. He remained flat and reserved until you mentioned you had seen his comic collection, which made him light up like a Christmas tree. He told you about Sora, Warrior of the Sea for two hours after that, with a boyish enthusiasm you had never expected from a perpetually exhausted man covered in tattoos. It was cute, though he didn’t appreciate it when you pointed that out, cheeks growing pink and lips growing into what he would insist was not a pout. Yes, you had always known Law was strange, but in a fun way, the kind that brings more fond smiles than exasperation.

But some of his habits were starting to make you think he wasn’t quite as harmless as you had convinced yourself.

The first time you awoke with him standing over you, eyes flashing in the dark, you screamed. He had the nerve to jump back as well, as though you had scared him. Sleep walking, he had called it. You don’t know many people who sleepwalk with their eyes open and their teeth baring down on you. But he was so apologetic, you couldn’t help but let it slide.

“I’ve just been so tired from work lately,” he had admitted quietly, cheeks pink and voice tight with embarrassment. “That hasn’t happened since I was a kid. I’m sorry. I…don’t really know how to stop it, but I’ll try. Maybe I need to get more sleep.”

“I think you should,” you had agreed, dripping with good natured concern. “I don’t mean to be rude, but you look like you haven’t slept in years. I’ve been worried about you, honestly.”

He chuckled. “I appreciate it. Maybe I do need a bit more rest. But…maybe you should sleep with your door locked. Just in case I sleepwalk again. I wouldn’t want to give you such a rude awakening twice.” He had said something else, but frankly you were a little too focused on his hands flexing nervously, showing off his long, tattooed fingers, to catch whatever it was.

And since you had taken his advice, you hadn’t woken up to any more men lurking over your bed. You had, however, woken up to the jiggling of your door handle more than once. One time, you had even heard a knock echoing through the room, though he didn’t answer when you called out to ask him what he wanted.

You also couldn’t help but notice how empty the fridge and pantry were, or how little you saw him eat. He had a small snack here or there, but he seemed to subsist mostly on coffee and whatever he keeps in those tumblers he always has nearby. You had asked once, but he brushed it off, changing the subject not-so-subtly. You assumed they were protein shakes, or some other supplement he used to avoid having to sit down and enjoy a real meal. A lot of Law’s life seemed like he was actively trying to avoid living it. He had his hobbies and friends, of course, but any of the mundane pleasures of life, like eating, sleeping, or even human interaction outside of his chosen few people he avoided like the plague. He focused on his work, and anything else was either carefully penciled in or discarded entirely.

Every conversation you had about it was unproductive. He insisted he was fine, that this was just how he was, but there was always a tension around him, one you can’t help but think would disappear if he would only allow himself to live for once. But you can’t say that to him. How can you ask a man if he even enjoys being alive?

But tonight was the night you would learn your concerns were all for nothing, due only to a lack of information, and nothing more.

You try another conversation about your concerns when he wanders into the kitchen while you’re cleaning up. You know it won’t lead anywhere, but you have to try. “Do you think you’ve been sleeping better, Law?”

He hums noncommittally.

“...Have you actually been trying?”

“I’ve…had a lot to deal with.”

You frown, turning around to face him. “Has work not let up at all? You’ve been running yourself ragged for months.”

He avoids your eyes. “It’ll pass soon.”

“That’s what you said two months ago.” You reach across the counter for his hand, fingers brushing lightly against his, and he frantically pulls his hand back as though he’s been burned. You try not to show your hurt on your face, but from the guilt on his, you know you’ve failed. “I’m…I’m just worried about you. I feel like things have only gotten worse for you since I moved in. Maybe I should just–”

He jumps at that, quick to correct, to move you away from that train of thought as fast as he can. “No, no, that’s not true. And you shouldn’t do anything different. Having you around has been…this is the most alive the house has felt in years. I’m just tired, really.”

“You’re still sleepwalking.”

He tenses. “Am I?” Something about his tone is strange. He doesn’t seem like he’s surprised, or at least not surprised that he is. More surprised that you know.

“Yeah. You really didn’t start doing that until I moved in?”

“Well, no one would be able to tell me if I had.” He still isn’t looking at you.

You sigh. Even knowing how unproductive these talks are, it’s always a disappointment to learn he won’t open up to you. You honestly can’t figure out why he keeps you around. Your presence clearly stresses him out, even if he won’t admit it. “Just…try to get some rest, please. And eat a real meal for once. You’re a doctor, you should know how to take care of yourself.”

He finally looks at you again, self deprecation radiating from his tight smile. “Right. I’ll try.”

He won’t.

But you can. After you finish wiping down the counters, you get ready for a long night of sleep. No point in staying up worrying over things you can’t control. A long, warm shower and comfy pajamas are sure to fix your problems.

And they do, really, for the few hours you remain asleep.

But then you hear the door open.

No jiggling handle, no knocking, nothing. Just the quiet creak of the hinges, and footsteps approaching. You’ve barely opened your eyes before you can feel the bed start to shift, and you look up to see the same sight you did months ago: Law, eyes feral and needy, his mouth open, teeth looking particularly long and sharp in the moonlight. Before you can open your mouth, you can feel his body against yours, every inch of him stiff, his hands clutching your shoulders, his teeth growing closer and closer to your neck.

“Law?”

His eyes are still hazy, his mouth still approaching.

“Law!” You try to push his arms away, but you find you’re not strong enough to make him budge for even a moment. But the fear in your voice when you realize you’re about to feel his teeth against you makes him stop midair, his eyes focusing a little.

“Huh?” He looks down at you in his arms, staring up at him with wide, frightened eyes, and he throws himself back with a speed and strength you didn’t know he had. You can hear him slam against the wall behind him, knocking all of your wall decorations askew and making the wall make a concerning creak. He stares at you, arms out, as though something is pinning him down, and he looks absolutely beautiful bathed in the moonlight that sneaks through your curtains. His eyes are hungry, and you can see his canines peeking out from his lips, almost looking like fangs. He’s naked except for a pair of gray sweatpants, hair mussed and tattoos on full display.

“Law?” He stares at you, still torn between hunger and fear. As you shift to sit up, you can see his eyes flicker between your neck and your breasts, your pajamas giving him a clear view of your cleavage. Normally you would be embarrassed, but the tension in the air makes you forget your vulnerability for a moment. “Are you alright?”

“You forgot to lock your door,” he murmurs, voice thick and deep. He hasn’t looked away from you for even a moment, and he hasn’t moved an inch.

“You were going to bite me.”

He licks his lips, something he often does around you. You had always thought it was a nervous habit, but combined with the look in his eyes, you’re starting to suspect perhaps there’s another reason. “I told you to keep your door locked.” It sounds like speaking takes effort, and you notice his hands trembling slightly.

“Why were you going to bite me?”

“I need to leave,” he says, not moving, staring intently at your exposed skin. He’s breathing heavily. His canines seem to have grown even longer. “Or maybe you should leave.”

“You’re…you haven’t been sleepwalking at all. You’ve been trying to get in every night. To bite me. With your teeth.”

“I…have.”

“Are you…” You can’t bring yourself to say the word, even with all of the evidence in front of you. It feels unreal, so ridiculous you feel as though you’re watching someone else live through it all.

“Yes.”

“And you’re hungry?”

His chest is heaving with the effort of holding himself back. “Very.”

“And you asked me to live with you anyway?”

He forces his eyes closed, pushing his head back against the wall. “It wasn’t very smart of me. I…I knew I couldn’t let you leave the moment you walked through that door. I needed you to stay. You don’t know what it’s like. …I thought I would have more self control than this, really.” He sounds like he’s trying to convince himself more than you.

“Why couldn’t you let me leave?” You hate that your voice has a tinge of hope in it, like you aren’t in terrible danger, like your silly little crush on your roommate is more important than the very real threat he poses.

“You’re…you. And god, I need you.” He huffs out another breath. “You need to leave, really. Before I lose control.”

That should not have sent a shiver of excitement up your spine. “What if I didn’t?”

“Then I’d bite you.”

“And what if I wanted that?”

His eyes shoot open, and before you know it you’re pinned to the bed, a starving animal holding you down, every muscle in his body taut. “You…you shouldn’t…” He struggles to even get the words out, to keep up his good guy act when you can see the hunger in his eyes.

You lean up, exposing your neck fully, and just smile.

You’re pierced in a second.

The sensation is colder than you expected, and for a moment it really and truly feels like you’re going to die. Like you’ve made some horrible mistake for a pretty face and you’re going to pay the price for it. But before long, the ice in your veins fades away, leaving behind a pleasant warmth. It almost feels like you’re drunk, as your eyelids droop and an easy smile comes to your face.

You can feel every inch of Law pressed into you, from his warm tongue against your neck to his solid chest against yours and, most importantly, his hard and aching cock rutting against your thigh as he drinks. He hardly takes any time away from your neck, but whenever he does he’s panting, practically moaning against you. One of his hands goes to your chest, palming clumsily at your breasts, which easily spill out of your flimsy top. He looks down to see them, and groans from deep within his chest. “God, look at you.”

You try to respond, but in an instant he’s against your neck again, suckling, while his hand finds your nipple and pinches it between his fingers. You moan, far louder than you would ever admit, and your hips rut up into his. You can feel a wetness soaking easily through your pajama shorts, which he finds as well as he rubs against you, forcing the fabric between your folds and rubbing it against your clit. Your nails find his hair, gripping for dear life, and you hear him moan again. You can’t see them, but you can practically feel his eyes rolling into the back of his head. You try to speak again, to tell him to please fuck you, to complete the pleasure of the moment, but the only thing that leaves your lips is a pathetic cry of, “Law!”

He pulls himself back from your neck, lips dripping with your blood, staring at you ravenously. You fear he might swallow you whole. You fear you might enjoy that. His hand comes up, fingers gathering the blood dripping from his lips and chin. He maintains eye contact as he slowly and deliberately licks his fingers clean, refusing to waste even a drop of you. You clench your thighs together, which once again rubs the fabric against your clit just right, making you moan softly. His pupils blow out even further at the sound, his eyes nothing but inky blackness and desire.

You aren’t sure if it’s the warmth in your veins or your desire for Law that leaves you so pliable, so vulnerable underneath him. Either way, you find your thighs falling apart and your arms wrapping around him, begging him to take you. You whisper to him, “Please, Law, please. Finish what you’ve started. Have me.”

He leans down to clean the rest of the blood off of your neck with his tongue. “I want you,” he groans. “I have since the moment I saw you. God, you’re so delicious.” You feel his teeth graze against you again, desperate for a second taste. “You taste even better than I imagined, better than I dreamed.”

“You dreamed about me?”

“Every goddamn night. You’ve been haunting me.” He nips at your neck gently. “I couldn’t let you leave, no matter how much better it would be for you. I’m sick.”

You thrust your hips against his again, making his eyelids flutter and a soft choked noise escape his throat. “I’ve wanted you just as long.”

“I’ve never lost control over myself like this. You’ve done something to me.” He says it almost like an accusation.

You wrap your thighs around his waist in response, forcing your hips together again. “You’ve done something to me, too. I’d like you to finish it, if you don’t mind.”

He growls against your skin, something feral finally unleashing from him, and in one smooth motion he’s ripped off your pajama pants and underwear, leaving you bare and dripping for him. He thrusts into you in one smooth motion, making you nearly scream as your eyes roll back from the sensation. His pace is frantic, like if he stops for even a moment you’ll change your mind, or he’ll come to his senses, and it will all be over.

“Need you,” he mutters. “Need you to stay. Say you’ll stay.” There’s some deeper thread of desperation here, his voice pleading, nearly afraid. Like after all of this you’ll see him for what he is and leave him all alone in this house again, to be forgotten by time and left to rot.

“I’ll stay,” you moan. “I won’t leave you, Law.”

His hand finds your clit, a reward for giving him what he needed. His hands are as skilled as you had always hoped they would be, callused and moving exactly how you want them to. He makes you clench around him, ready to come undone so quickly under his attention. “You’re so alive,” he whispers. “So beautiful. And mine.”

“Yours, yes, yours!”

“Forever,” he insists.

“Forever!”

With your promise, his thrusts quicken, growing sloppy as he loses what little control he had left. His fingers and hips work frantically, bringing you to the edge easily, causing you to tighten around him as your vision goes white. At the same time, his teeth come down on your neck again, and he spills inside of you, filling you to the brim as he freely takes what he wants.

You’re panting, your heart pounding out of your chest, your blood flowing freely into Law’s waiting lips. Once he’s had his fill, he licks you clean again, before raising his head to look you in the eyes. “Forever?” He asks again.

“Forever,” you confirm.

He smiles. You watch as he bites his bottom lip, his fangs easily piercing the soft flesh, and he kisses you deeply and desperately. The taste of iron fills your mouth, at first repulsive but quickly growing into something sweet and irresistible. You lean further into him, sucking on his lip, taking whatever you can get, only stopping when he pulls back, pinning you down so you can’t chase his lips.

“Forever,” he whispers, tone filled with wonder. He kisses you again, tenderly, almost worshiping. “And you won’t have to spend a moment of it alone.”

You’re starting to grow unbearably hot, but even as you squirm, Law doesn’t allow you to move. He holds you there, under him, cock still inside of you. “Law, it’s hot. I need–”

“I know. It’ll pass.” He grins, teeth flashing dangerously in the light.

“What?” The haziness from blood loss and whatever endorphins came from a vampire’s bite start to wear off, and you start to tense. “What’ll pass?”

He doesn’t give you a straight answer. “It won’t hurt much, I promise.”

“Law, what did you do?”

He smiles, nuzzling you affectionately. “I’ll teach you everything you need to know. You won’t have to try to figure it all out alone. It’ll be the two of us, figuring it all out together. And we’ll have forever to do it.” He kisses you again as the heat overtakes you, turning swiftly from discomfort to pain.

But you’ll be alright, of course. Law is right there to walk you through it.

And he will be forever.

Tag List: @pandora-writes-one-piece @shy-writer-999 @saturogojosgirl

[literaila]

midnight happenings

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: satoru wakes up and looks for you

warnings: references to things that none of us will understand (kidding), little angst, mostly fluff, nightmare and such

last part | next part

*

year three

"satoru?" you whisper, blinded briefly by flashing white hair.

your door has been creaked open--like you usually keep it in the dead of the night--but the hallway light is on, illuminating the body in front of you like a ghost. 

you could be dreaming, still, but your head hurts from the sudden interruption, so you know you're not. 

he's like a monster lurking in the dark. waiting for a moment where you're vulnerable before he attacks. he's always been better at patience, remaining in one spot for a millennium, than you have. 

but still, you sit up, because you've never been afraid of him. you blink, trying to recognize his cobalt-aquamarine eyes in the dark. they are still so bright, it's a bit shocking. 

he inches closer, not saying a word. 

there is no smile on his face that you can see. no hint of mischief in his movements. usually, when he creeps into your bed this late, he's looking for something unobtainable. something you know he won't take and you won't give. 

but tonight his eyes are brief matches in the dark, lighting and flickering out, waiting for you to understand. 

and you do. 

"are you okay?" you whisper, not wanting to break the hesitation between you two. you don't know where it goes next, once that bubble pops. your voice is groggy and slightly dry.

"sorry," he responds, the only real answer you need. 

satoru doesn't apologize for anything except his sheer audacity. 

you sit up even further, flicking your light on. 

the both of you flinch at the intrusion of your lamp. but you don't look away from him, brows furrowing. "can't sleep?" you ask, instead. as if it will get you somewhere. 

he shakes his head. 

you watch him for a moment more, long and lanky in your room, his throat bobbing as he swallows. 

then you pat the space next to you, folding your legs underneath your body, trying to remember how to read him this early in the morning. 

satoru doesn't say anything, but he's quick to respond, crawling into bed next to you without a look at you. clearly, he doesn't want you to change your mind on this. 

it's the quickest you've seen him move in a week. 

you watch as he curls himself under the expensive bedsheets--ones he bought--probably scoffing at the color choice internally, but he doesn't look back. 

his eyes are stuck on the duvet like the pattern is going to jump out and attack him. 

you don't have a single thing to say. no question to ask to put the two of you at ease, no witty remark to keep you afloat when satoru seems to be dredging through the water. 

and still.

"you look tired." 

"yeah," he murmurs. 

"did you--" you shake your head. "did you finish the rest of the sesame cookies again? sugar rush?" 

his head lulls over to you, and there's a brief, anxious smile. "of course not," he says. 

"then why are you still awake?" 

"missed you. it's lonely in my room." 

"it's been..." you turn towards the clock. then back. "four hours." 

"too long." 

you smile, slightly, understanding this deflection better than anything else. "you're like the kids," you muse, "coming to cuddle in the middle of the night." 

"smart ones, those two." 

you lean closer to him, eyes falling to his hands, which are raking through the covers like he's going to discover that you've hidden something in them. you can almost see them shake. you swallow. "do you need to talk about something?" 

his eyes dart towards yours. "what? no." 

"okay." 

"do you need to talk about something?" 

you shake your head. "no. i'm good." 

"okay. good." 

you bite your lip as he looks away, focused again on any inanimate object you have in here. the floor, the ceiling, your dresser, or the bouquet he bought you rotting on it. you sit there, watching his hands trail over the sheets, his eyes flick over the walls, his mouth move like there's something stuck inside--something he can't quite say. 

so you do it for him. "i couldn't sleep, either." 

his brow raises. "i heard you snoring from across the hall." 

"i do not snore, satoru, please don't insinuate ridiculous things." 

his lip quirks. 

you sigh, making a show of rolling your eyes. "anyway, i get it. how come it's always so cold in this house?" 

"because you told me that i shouldn't install a different furnace in every room." 

you hum. "could've gone with a fireplace, though. some ambiance. spice this place up a little, you know?" 

"i don't think i'll be taking your interior design advice," satoru answers, looking at you--all of you, finally--his smile a slight thing. 

a hint at the boy you're used to, his frustrating demeanor. 

"another mistake you're making," you tease, smiling back. 

and you watch it--as his face shifts, momentarily, like 0.2 seconds is enough for him to process every emotion that's ever flooded through his body. his eyes dart away, his mouth folds, and satoru goes back in on himself. 

and you know it was the wrong thing to say. 

"hey," you whisper, words coming out before you think about them. "i like it here. even if it is cold." 

"yeah?" 

"yeah. with you and the kids. and this giant bed that serves no purpose for one person." 

"that's why i'm here," he says. 

"oh, of course." 

"have to make sure you're respecting all of the mattress space." 

"well, i wouldn't want the mattress to be unappreciated," you lean your shoulder against his, sighing when his head falls on yours, stepping stones leading to one another. "would i?" 

"you're welcome." 

"very observant, satoru." 

"it's the eyes." 

you laugh hard enough for him to feel it, for your body to shake against his--like it might ground him back to the world. pull him from the water and shake him off.

you don't quite know who this satoru is, because he's not really yours. but he's not the man who could wipe everything out in an instant, if he just wanted a little break. and he's not the man who's dealt with that alone, without any person to help, no one to ask any questions.

maybe he's a child, again. one you never got to meet. 

but it feels a little impossible. 

you swallow, after a moment. then you move your head back, shifting so you can properly look at him. "you sure you don't want to talk about it?" 

satoru looks back, his eyes an expanse of sky and pain, mirroring some parts of you. he doesn't shake his head, doesn't nod. "i..." he whispers, like an answer. 

"was it a nightmare?" 

this time, he nods. 

"i get them, too. sometimes." 

"yeah?" 

"why do you think i end up in tsumiki's bed every couple of nights?" 

"i thought that was a girl thing." 

you smile, leaning to nudge your forehead against his. "nah, tsumiki's just a good cuddler." 

"how 'bout megumi?" 

"please. i think he'd probably dislocate my shoulder in his sleep if i even tried. at least now that you showed him the hand-to-hand stuff i told you not to." 

satoru raises a brow. his eyes are close enough that you can feel his eyelashes fluttering. "everyone needs a little protection from ruthless midnight cuddlers." 

"who's going to protect me from you?" you ask.

this time, you get a full-blown grin. a satoru special, just for you. "no one," he says, "you're stuck with me." 

"don't i know it." 

you tilt your head back, remaining a couple of inches away, but breaking the contact. 

satoru watches. his eyes are so focused on yours, that it feels like some sort of manipulation. 

but you know it's not. 

or, at least, not any sort of manipulation he can control. you've dealt with satoru's sweet eyes and addicting smiles since you were a teenager, and there's no escape. 

"you know," you whisper, blinking rapidly, trying to fall away. "it helps to talk about it. sometimes. remind yourself that it's just a dream, and nothing more." 

satoru looks down, watching your lips as they move. he could be asleep with how still his face is. so unlike the usual expressions you dread to watch, the neverending shifts in behavior. the quirks and quips falling from his horrid mouth. 

"it's not..." he shakes his head, leaning back. "it's not really a dream." 

"what do you mean?" 

"it's--it's always things that have already happened. memories, i guess. it's not a nightmare." 

or maybe it is, goes unspoken. 

"oh." 

"so, i don't think... i mean, i can't wake up from real life, or whatever." 

your body stills. you want to tell him that if he talked about it, it might go away. that his memories are pushed so far back that they're intruding on reality. that he needs to let it go, let the past fade like a scar. still there, but unburdening. 

but you know that satoru won't listen. if you know anything about the man--anything from the seven years that you've spent with him, watching him react to the constant battle of living--it's that. 

he's not going to listen to you. he never does. and you shouldn't expect him to. not when he knows that you can't understand, that you never really will. 

still, the words rest on the tip of your tongue, like a dagger ready for the plunge. 

"it's okay, though," satoru shrugs, suddenly. brushing his entire existence off as if it's removable. "it's fine." 

"it's okay if it's not." 

he blinks. "i know," he says, almost defensively. "but it is." 

"okay." 

satoru swallows, his fingertips brushing on the bare skin of your leg. you haven't been this close to him for a couple of months, since he stopped coercing you into staying the night. it's strange, the environment of the two of you. an inadaptable habitat. 

"sorry," he whispers. 

"it's okay. it's fine." 

"okay." 

"i have nightmares about megumi a lot," you say, short. "he's always doing something stupid. something you would do." 

satoru tilts his head. "like what?" 

you roll your eyes. "forgetting to turn off the stove and setting us all on fire. drinking out of the milk carton. or bringing home a curse just because." 

"i only did that once. i wanted your opinion on something." 

"'do you think it's eyes are green or brown? maybe hazel?'" you mock, shaking your head. 

"it was a dire question," his lip quirks. 

you shake your head some more. "but when i wake up i always remember that megumi isn't stupid like you. he thinks things through." 

"hey," satoru chides, but he doesn't really care. 

"and sometimes," you say, again, even softer. "i have dreams about you. about you doing something stupid, like always, but..." 

the rest goes unsaid. it's not an idea that needs to be verbalized. not a belief you hold in the pit of your heart, a fear you've experienced too many times. 

satoru leans closer to you. "i know," he says, instead of an apology, or some type of comfort. "i get those too." 

so you wrap your arms around his shoulders, almost unconsciously, leaning in as you let satoru hold you up for a moment. like he's done all of those other late nights. you hug him close, unsure if you'll ever really break the distance between the two of you. 

but you can feel it as satoru's arms wrap around your waist, squeezing with you, differently than he usually does. his breath is soft against your head, a break in the dark. 

"i know," you whisper to him, an echo, and it should be enough. 

but you're not sure that it--that this, the proximity between the two of you--will ever be enough. 

that thought fades into the night, though, like every other sleep-deprived whisper you've shared with satoru. it won't be worth it to bring it up again in the morning. so you won't, and neither will he. 

but you'll hold him now. like a promise you can keep. 

*

when you wake up in the morning, your fingers are curled around satoru’s.

every part of you feels achy. like just being this close to him has infected you with another disease—some curse you won’t be able to shake off.

and you only realize this when two heads are standing above you, watching you closely.

“are you awake?” tsumiki asks you, like your eyes are not an indication of anything.

“doesnt that hurt?” megumi frowns, immediately after. “gojo is heavy.”

he’s referencing the man that’s partly on top of you, his mouth leaving a sure mark on the skin of your neck, breath hot and wet.

you blink rapidly, trying not to flush under the feeling of him there (literally under).

“you guys hungry?” you say, wincing at the sound of your own voice.

they both nod.

“okay, just—“ you sigh, hands raking through satoru’s hair. “gimme a minute to wake him up. go get your backpacks and i’ll make breakfast.”

tsumiki nods and steps back. megumi’s brows furrow at you. “we have to leave in thirty minutes.”

you roll your eyes. “i know, megs. i’m up.”

he shakes his head. “not you,” he nods. “don’t crush her. i have school.” he tells satoru, sternly, and then walks away, dragging tsumiki along and out of the room.

satoru, who’s eyes are wide and open, so close to yours that they are almost nothing.

“hey,” he whispers, grinning.

*

next part | series masterlist

a/n: for all of you that think i hate satoru, he's my baby

[leclerckiss]

pretty in pink ౨ৎ

notes: oscar piastri x girly!reader, est. relationship, protective demeanour, unwelcome attention from strangers, fluff. requested.

a/n: i adored writing this, and it helped encourage me to stop writing for only charles in all honesty. ily.

The aroma of petrichor against warm pastries from the L'Amour du Pain Vieux bakery nearby lingers, skies over Montréal grey with the lull of clouds where hints of the early afternoon light dance through and upon the Circuit Gilles Villeneuve below, a gentle remnant of dampness about the smooth stone streets from rainfall earlier in the hour that has since come to a halt.

With qualifying to commence in a few hours – highlighting the true beginning of the Canadian Grand Prix where your boyfriend hopes to secure the finest result possible – there is a heightening feel about the paddock as you wander through, latte of oat-milk and vanilla balanced in one soft-skinned hand, donned in your favourite, little dress like blushing, pale peonies.

After an early albeit comfortable, familiar morning waking beside Oscar in your shared hotel suite amongst the quiet luxury of pretty, minimal décor – mussed bed sheets of lush cotton, cashmere throws and interlocked limbs – shared, slow kisses and breakfast consisting of sweet, syruped pancakes and coffee, before greeting the true day ahead, you are most excited.

Amongst conversational journalists with inviting, saccharine smiles merely for enticement and photographers who do not hesitate to notice your face, the lovely and pretty diamond that is Oscar Piastri's lovable girlfriend, you have never quite opposed to the media attention so long as you have him by your side.

"Hm." Chanel ballet flats of embroidered ivory and light-pink clicking on the path, comforted by your sweet treat in hand whilst balancing your iPhone in the other – a brief conversation with your lover concluding he would be busy for another couple of minutes at least due to press conferences – you are mostly contently lost in your own daydreams.

"Excuse me?"

It is the sound of a voice addressed in your direction that has you faltering in your gait, pretty head tilting just the slightest to glimpse over your shoulder just as the sudden voice and approach of a male has you somewhat shy.

"Sorry, I feel like I know you from somewhere," He is youthful, perhaps the same age or a year older than the aforementioned by looks, dressed rather comfortably in a clean, white shirt of linen only half-buttoned against the beige hues of his trousers, Française Cartier watch glinting on his wrist.

His mouth curves on a smile, eyes like caramel dancing over your face and lower until he allows himself the fleeting, silent glance at how the neat edges of your mini dress hug your thighs before straightening his stance once again, lithe fingers threading through his styled, light hair.

The words leave you a touch perplexed given you certainly do not recognise him and lack any recollection of his face, laughing uncertainly as you tuck a stray hair behind the shell of your ear with the clink of a rose quartz bracelet about your wrist, the sound sweet as an angel's.

"I'm sorry, I don't think–"

"It's alright, I don't either." The man continues with an amiable shrug as though pretending to understand or assume what you had been meaning to say, countenance turning more charismatic on the edge of a revealed dimple, "My name's Jacques, love."

There is something in his gaze and the execution of his demeanour which has you hesitating, rosebud mouth parted ajar whilst you glance about momentarily even when the hint of a natural, polite smile remains.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Jacques," You reply quietly, the expression you hold towards him is a pleasant one despite yourself, although not enough to reveal the slight discomfort that lurks in the depths of your stomach, "But my boyfriend is–"

"Right here."

As if the mention or mere thought of him was an innate manifestation, you are greeted with the presence of a certain, handsome individual where you recognise the warmth of his aura just as fingertips are felt on the curve of your vertebrae against a splayed palm.

You cannot deny or refuse the immediate beginnings of a soft smile and the ease flourishing within you as soon as his touch is known, the lingering scent of his cologne with hints of patchouli and rosewood permeating, an incline of your head allowing gazes to meet momentarily in mutual greeting.

He stands tall beside you, the limb draped around your waist a familiar presence whilst eyes of an intimate, rich hue that remind you of coffee and autumn dance between yourself and the other man who now stands a touch awkwardly with a dissuaded visage.

"Is this man bothering you, princess?" His tone is honey-like, a smooth and lowered baritone that you adore, though there is the telltale sign of his fingertips that press a touch firmer against your hipbone, and the arch of a brow, that demonstrates the silent brewing of protectiveness in the midst of his affections for you. Oscar Piastri is an affectionate sweetheart, true to his feelings and honest in generosity with the renowned presence of patience, though can be a defensive figure when the subject concerns his girl.

"Not really. He was just being friendly," Your cadence is light and sweet with imploration, the subtle gesture of a kiss left against his cheekbone in comforting warmth as you balance on the edge of your toes momentarily.

You are sweet, almost too much so with your pretty looks and the faint glimpses of innocence there even though you know exactly where you stand; it has Oscar longing to return to the quiet privacy of home where nobody will harass you both for attention, where he can have you to himself even if only for a little while.

Jacques chuckles, almost uncertainly in a manner that juxtaposes his previous incentive whilst tucking one palm into the concealing wool of his tailored slacks when he nods, "I was just saying 'hello', no harm done."

The Australian does not seem particularly reassured though there is no instigation for a disagreement, looking over the other only a moment longer without another word before he's silently coaxing you against his side when he walks with a gait somewhat quicker than his usual.

"Wait," Your kissable lips touch a little downward in uncertain wonder, though you follow his guidance easily, a touch intrigued by his lingering silence that lacks explanation, "Where are we headed? Was I doing something wrong?"

There is no initial comfort or answer to your inquiries as he looks forward, evidently lost to his own thoughts whilst internally calming himself from the dwindling ache of his possession over you, a muscle in the line of his jaw shifting almost imperceptibly.

A boring press conference consisting of being asked the same questions like a repetitive, tedious dance had already left him a touch bitter, and the sight of a stranger trying to steal his girlfriend's attention away only aggravates him further.

Eventually, your shared walk leads to the quieter alcoves of the McLaren hospitality comforts until he's nudging you backwards through a white-varnished door, breathing in the sweetness of your perfume – Good Girl: Blush – with hints of almond against sweet peonies, vanilla and coumarin.

"You weren't doing anything wrong," Oscar murmurs, his arm entwined securely about your figure as his lips ghost over the outer shell of your ear near the glimmer of divine, embellished earrings he gifted you on your birthday after he had seen you admiring them through the glass of a jewellery shop once, swallowing slowly.

It is a quiet, comfortable room – one that he often confides in the refuge of when in need of fleeing from the never-ending attention and demands of his profession, an inviting, plush chaise lounge of white cushioning, shelves and cupboards of various items.

Your glossed lips touch into a delicate pout of mystery, a gentle sound of consideration and acknowledgement leaving the back of your throat whilst arms drape loosely around his neck, the edges of your thumbs tracing along his nape where you feel the soft hairs there.

"Then what was it?"

"Nothing." It is an uncharacteristically brief reply, though the manner his lightly-calloused palms cradle the small of your waist until he cannot quite restrain himself from the tightened grasp there with a brief glance towards the closed door, exhaling through his teeth in some kind of defeat, "I'm... Do you want me to be honest?"

The question is uttered so softly that the question leaves you a fraction breathless, heart thrumming within the interns of your rib cage like a dove locked away as you nod.

"I always want the truth from you, Ossie," You respond in a lull so saccharine it sounds like a sing-song of delight, the edge of your index finger and thumb dancing downwards against the soft fabric of his sweater before pausing when you meet his eyes through your lashes.

Oscar sighs, though there is the slightest of reservations of a smile the corners of his mouth at the manner in which you address him, a nickname reserved especially for when the two of you are alone together and intimate.

He does not immediately bless you with an answer, tilting your head towards him in silent, shared invitation before your mouths melt together. It is slow and sweet, tasting one another and your belongings forgotten on the nearby, makeshift desk of polished oak, a sweetened hint of café au lait on your tongue.

"Seeing that man," He begins between chaste kisses, not quite allowing you the liberty of shying away as he holds you close until your back nudges the ivory-coated wall behind, near drawn photographs of memorabilia from old Grand Prixes, "And how he looked at you, it made me want to–"

He pauses, inhaling audibly as though trying to meditate on his own emotions in that moment, his hands feeling over your body like a sculptor and his finest work before he swallows the remainder of his sentence with a kiss.

Oscar Piastri is an undeniably attractive man when he's possessive over you, touching every inch of you like his belongings, muttered sweet nothings and vows of devotions against your tongue. It is a warm feeling, knowing he will always protect you without hesitance. And he does, cherishes you like the pretty doll you seem to be, because he cares in some earnest, undying reality.

"I love you."

The punctuation of another kiss, "I love you more." And he traces the jut of your ribs through the thin, velveteen fabric of your rosé dress when he holds you close until you're flush together, sighing against your lips, "I will never let anybody hurt you, ever. Understood?"

"I understand."

[drewsbraziliangf]

don’t try this at home | Drew Starkey x black!reader

summary: no one never tells you how much a broken heart hurts. how you feel like you could die from how much pain it causes you and dealing with it mostly alone serves as a constant reminder of what life could've been.

a/n: Here’s part 2 of nothing to say when heaven falls, heavily inspired by ‘in the kitchen’ by Renee Rapp. I want to thank you all sooooo much for the love on the first part I’m still taking it all in💖

dividers: @/saradika-graphics

It had been seven months since the both of you broke up - more like you decided to call it all off and he just watched.

A part of you felt broken beyond repair. It felt like everywhere you looked you could see his stupid blue eyes and damned smile. As if your brain couldn't cope with his absence anymore and began to force you to picture him everywhere you went. Wether it was in someone holding the door for you, a stranger complimenting your hair, a song on the radio that you knew he’d sing along as he drove. It felt like you were dancing with his ghost. Like life happened around you but you were stuck in the kitchen where you last saw him. It was just you and the bittersweet memories.

You never knew how his family took the news of your break up, Brooke was the one who reached out to you and said that she was sorry things had happened that way. But after that everything was radio silent and you preferred it that way. It hurt less when the living reminders of him weren’t too keen on keeping up with your life anymore. They had no reason to do that anyway.

But nothing hurt more than when you began to call everything off with the contractors. The venue, the buffet, the band that would be playing, the decoration crew, photographers and wedding planners. That broke you because you could feel their pity through each and every single call. Like every time you dialed a number, the knife was piercing the open wound again.

It didn’t take long for you to move back into the apartment you rented before you had moved in with him. Slowly life was stable again. Wake up, walk in the park, work, diner, sleep. Repeat.

You also deleted most of your social media profiles and created brand new ones. You didn't want to think of how long until people realized that you were cutting online ties to any one connected to him and they started asking questions. You wanted to remain invisible at last.

Still that wasn't enough. Every other day when your best friend, Frankie, posted a picture or a video where you were in she would immediately tell you that he had liked it. Every time for the last month and a half. You didn't know if you liked to be informed of that or not, if you were honest.

Sometimes you hated yourself for leaving like you did, but in most days you asked yourself how you managed to stay that long? Of course you loved him and was one hundred percent ready to be with him in the long run, but the sudden dismiss of your relationship as soon as Odessa was in the picture was a real deal breaker. Even if you had tried to ignore and move past it, both of them seem to keep on pushing your buttons more and more.

Moving back to this apartment was a blessing and a curse. You were glad that the lender was a nice lady and accepted your application again. You loved the neighborhood and the neighbors, so you were relieved that this part you were able to recover.

Unlike the place you shared with Drew, this one barely had memories of him. So it was easy to ignore his absence in your home. The thought of your shared apartment brought a strange kind of pain to your heart. So many plans, memories and dreams that you for your future now sat alone. All of them waiting for a different kind of closure - one you weren’t sure they’d ever get.

There were pieces of furniture that used to decorate that address that you had brought with you. And on them you could feel him linger, like he was a ghost lurking by the corners waiting for you to acknowledge him again. You never did.

Weeks came and went as the breeze that passed by. None of them too significant. One failed date here and there, bar trips with Frankie, catching up with family members. Routine wasn’t hard to follow when you didn’t have anything else to focus on, it gave you a sense of normalcy. That’s how you found yourself sighing at your friends words on the speaker phone.

“Come on, it will be fun!” She points out, “And you might even find someone you’ll like.”

Frankie had been trying to convince you on the past few days to go to this party in a private club that she was invited and could take a plus one. You did enjoy going to some bars but clubs were never your scene, but you knew that with her insistence you’d end up caving in soon or late.

“Frankie, you know that I don’t enjoy this kind of things too much,” you argue as you serve yourself some pasta. “Besides, I have that presentation at work that I need to focus on.”

“That’s not coming up for another two weeks, I’m sure you can take one day to live. You’re young and gorgeous, you shouldn’t be locked up on a Friday night.”

You giggle at that. Ever since you told her what had happened with your previous relationship, she made it her mission to get you to meet as many guys as possible. Half of the times you managed to back out and the ones you did you’d find yourself under someone you were sure that you’d only see once.

“You’re insufferable, you know that?” You ask with a small sigh as you shake your head.

“Be ready by nine, hun.” She says, and you can clearly hear the excitement in her voice, and then she hangs up.

This was everything you didn’t know you needed. The sweaty bodies dancing on the main floor, loud chatter all around and the strong smell of alcohol surrounded you.

Everyone seemed pretty in sync with each other here and, as Frankie held your hand, the both of you headed to the bar. When you arrived, you realized that the both of you had a very different perception of what small was. This place had at least one hundred and twenty people in, all with different styles and ages.

Frankie was taller than you, with legs and a waist to die for. She drew attention anywhere she passed by with her long blonde hair, at work people called her a bombshell, since she did look like a modern version of Gisele Bündchen. You became friends not long after you moved to Connecticut. As it was closer to New York and your then fiancé, had many meetings and events in the city. Both of you working in a corporate position at one of the many offices that were spread downtown. As the two of you were closer in age, it didn’t take much for a friendship to blossom between you both.

“I’ll have two caipirinhas,” she said to the bartender with the cutest little accent.

At the name of the specific drink from your native country, you looked around and realized that the party was somewhat tropical themed, so having a drink that was heavy on lime and sugar made sense.

You were glad that your outfit wasn’t standing out too much. The skirt barely covered your behind, but somehow the soft fabric made you feel comfortable as it wasn’t clinging to your skin as a the leather option you tried earlier would. Summer was insanely hot this year and the less the better.

Once your drinks arrived, she handed you one and the both of you walked towards one of the empty seats a little far away from the bar.

Conversation between the two of you flew lightly and it was always good to talk with Frankie. She understood you in ways no one ever had, there was never judgment coming from her. Even when you broke down in front of her when your relationship ended. She was your family away from home.

She also felt confident in sharing with you her fears and struggles as a single mother. Her boyfriend had passed away a year and a half ago in an accident and left her with a little boy to raise. Hayden her pride and joy and you knew how hard she worked to provide him with the best there was. You were more than glad to help her whenever she needed, you loved the both of them endlessly.

As the hours passed by the party became more packed than it was when you arrived, now you could barely walk between the damp bodies. So that made your trip to the bar for new drinks twice as long.

The bartender acted on automatic as he took your order once more, and for a moment you felt bad for coming here again. So many voices and sounds around you that you questioned yourself how he was able to understand each order correctly.

You tapped your colored nails against the glass countered as you waited, trying not to focus too much on what was happening around you. And that was how you felt it before you’ve seen it.

The strong smell of a very specific cologne. You didn’t dare to turn your head as the smell flooded your senses, hopefully it would be just a coincidence, right? I mean, what are the chances?

But it seemed like you have zero support from the universe tonight because the voice ordering a Sazerac besides you was very familiar. Familiar as you had heard it groaning in your ear as your legs were wrapped around someone’s waist.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Was it too late for you to make an escape? Thankfully, the spot you and Frankie were sharing was to your left so you looked back in that directly only to see her wide eyes staring right back at you.

Fuck.

Where the hell was this bartender?

You looked ahead again and allowed your eyes to briefly look down to your right. That goddamned gold signet ring.

Fuck.

Suddenly you didn’t want to drink anymore. Not when you felt a very familiar gaze burning into you.

No escape.

💖taglist💖: @emmaafinchh @rafecamerons-national-anthem @blveeeeeee @a-j-stuffs @maybankslover @lovelylove268 @cooper8224 @esquivelbianca @dreamybabbyy @lulubabii @idiotussupremus @drewsphswife @ietss

tumblrs a hoe and it wasn’t letting me tag some of y’all 🫠

[merakiui]

thinking about a concept in which your parent and step-parent are going through a bit of a rough patch in their relationship, so in order to resolve this tension, keep you and skully (mostly) out of it, and hopefully return with a stronger bond, they decide to live in separate spaces for the time being while the idea of divorce is constantly whispered about. you remain in the city with your parent and your step-parent takes skully back to their hometown—that little, misty town in the mountains and trees. the one where all the eerie folklore and stories skully adores comes from. the one with such a small population that you often tell your friends at school it's "that weird cult town."

well, (un)luckily for you, your parents want you to have an amicable relationship with your stepbrother. so when the winter holiday comes around, they make plans to ship you off to that weird cult town so you can spend the next two weeks shacked up in the woods with your step-parent and stepbrother. and skully will get to return to your home come summer break! the whole arrangement feels much too complicated, and at this point you just wish your parents would stop trying so hard and divorce already. :/

but there's no getting out of it, so you pack your bags and are shipped off to the place you've not-so-affectionately dubbed Cult Town.

you've actually never been here before. when your parents first met, it was in the city and so you've only ever known the rush that is city life. but everything is considerably slower here in a comfortable sort of way. there's no hurrying after taxis or packing yourself into a crowded train. it doesn't smell like the city either. also, the internet connection is horrible. you spend your first few minutes in this town trying to get proper reception while you wait to be picked up. it's only two weeks, though. you're certain it will go by quickly.

skully is…still strange. you were never really close when you lived in the same house. he kept to himself just as you did, but right now he’s immensely welcoming. he carries your bags, offers to show you around town, and seems so pleased you've come to visit for the holidays. your step-parent notes he spent an absurd amount of time cleaning up the guest room just for you, but skully just flusters and babbles about how it's only right to treat a dear guest with hospitality. there's even a vase of pretty flowers waiting for you on the bedside table when you enter the tidy room.

you're not very thrilled to be here, but you content yourself with the fact that it's only two weeks. skully has a long list of things he'd like to do with you while you're here. you're not sure what you can possibly do in a town this small other than look at the same trees and meet the same townsfolk over and over, but anything's better than boredom.

you fall asleep in that old, creaky cabin that never seems to settle, and your dreams are filled with macabre imagery. claws scraping at the door in angry, jagged crisscrosses, as if something wishes to get in. frostbitten corpses frozen in permanent poses of agony. a faceless, shapeless monster lurking in shadows. and cold. so much cold. snow. ice. frozen lakes. you even wake cold, shivering even though the blankets are thick and warm. it's too quiet and too dark when you look out your window. no civilization in sight unlike in the city, where there are plenty of people and buildings and traces of humanity.

out here, the people hardly use their phones and it feels so old-fashioned and it's cold.

skully doesn't like it when you talk about divorce. he's still hopeful that your parents will mend their frayed bond and then you can all live under one roof again. :D you can only roll your eyes: "they're basically divorced already. maybe not legally, but definitely physically and emotionally." skully frowns at that, refusing to argue your point further. when you continue onwards down the dirt path, bundled in a woolen coat and wrapped up in a scarf (a gift from skully), you miss the way his expression sours. the way his orange eyes cloud over.

skully tells you they find bodies in the woods all the time. accidents. murders. suicides. "a forest is like an ocean," he says conversationally while the two of you stroll parallel to a dense treeline. "sometimes you happen upon things that just don't belong. things you don't expect to find in the vastness."

that night, you're tossing and turning again. your sleep schedule has been a wreck ever since you came here and you're almost certain this cabin is haunted because you keep feeling sensations that aren't there. like a whisper of breath on your neck or a hand on your cheek. and something's moving around in your room or beneath your bed or just outside the door at night. something from the forest, maybe? a monster? one of the many restless spirits left to wander aimlessly, never to know peace? you bring it up with skully the following morning: "do you ever feel...watched?"

he smiles around a mug of hot chocolate. "of course not. we drive malevolent spirits away every halloween. there's nothing that can bother you here. aah, if only you could have been here during halloween. it's simply wonderful! you must come next year."

somehow you aren't satisfied with this response, but skully's sliding a mug your way and suddenly any thoughts of local haunts disperse from your mind.

supposedly, chamomile tea aids in sleep. hoping to get at least one good night's rest while you're here, you purchase some from the market with skully when you go on a grocery run for your parent. "there's something so beautifully quaint about shopping together!" he notes, perusing a stall of various winter fruits. "it's very intimate. wouldn't you agree?"

"sure, i guess," you reply with a shrug, not quite understanding the point he's trying to make. maybe that's exactly the point: you're never going to understand him and his unusual ideals. "but isn't that why people spend quality time with one another?"

skully beams and plucks a frostbitten flower from a nearby bouquet, tucking the beautiful blossom behind your ear. "we have similar thoughts, you and I."

do we really?

you make yourself a cup of chamomile, bundle up in the warmest sweater you packed, and drink in front of a crackling fire. skully's sat at the kitchen table, scribbling away in a book and humming to himself. you asked him about it before and he told you it was "a catalogue of daily musings. nothing of great importance." you wonder what he writes about in there... probably stuff about how wonderful jack skellington is, a figure revered in this little cult town. you've never heard of him, but he seems interesting from what skully's told you.

miraculously, you drift off in the armchair, and you sleep through the night, enveloped in sweet, sugary warmth. your dreams are pleasant, too. it's the best night's sleep you've ever had.

skully asks if you like it here. his definition of 'like' is very different from yours, but you decide to humor him anyway. "it's a fine town," you say even though just the other day you were trying (and failing) to text your friends about how unsettling this place is. how life here is just so different from the city. you can't explain it, but if you stay here any longer you think they might accuse you of being a witch next with your city slang and fancy technology box (phone). "the atmosphere and the town are both very cute. it's like a little dollhouse when it's all dressed up and festive like this."

"what a flattering description! as expected, you view the world through the eyes of a poet, seeing loveliness in every little thing," he praises, holding his hands over his chest and swooning.

you feel just a little lovelier now that your sleep schedule is fixed, so you're inclined to agree.

usually, the chamomile knocks you out for the entire night. this time, though, you've awoken to a ghost. you crack your eyes open and slowly but surely shake the heavy sleepiness off. something's on top of you, holding you down in bed, their fingers cold and bony like the ones in your nightmares. you shift slightly, and the ghost freezes, still and silent as death. in the shadows, a pair of eyes search for your face.

a mouth at your ear. something stiff prods at your thigh. "shh," the ghost murmurs. "go back to sleep."

somehow you do. you feel warm again, cradled in the fluffiest of dreams. there's an encroaching coldness, though, a frigid draft threatening to creep in. you sleep through it. you'll talk to skully about it tomorrow.

maybe some ghosts aren't banished during halloween.

maybe some ghosts are made of flesh and blood.

[bvidzsoo]

Shameless

⟡ Husband!Jongho ⟡

∞ Author: bvidzsoo

∞ Pairing: Choi Jongho x female reader

∞ Warning: suggestive, violence, torture, death, cursing ∞ Word count: 2.5k ∞ Genre: non-idol!au, mafia!au, marriage of convenience!au, established relationship!au ∞ Rating: nc-17 ∞ Summary: Always hungry for more, in a world full of men who fought for more power, you might have just hit the jackpot by coming to an agreement and marrying the country's mafia leader's son. Soon, Jongho and you will be the one leading all.

∞ A/N: Second part of my so-called mafia drabble mini-series is up, and I quite like this one, I can't lie hihi. Despite the warnings, I haven't detailed anything too much, so it's not very graphic. Next I'll post either Seonghwa or Wooyoung, I'll see who's plot I'm feeling more. I'll point out once again that I won't be starting a taglist for this mini-series, so you'll have to lurk around ^^ Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy, and pls let me know your thoughts about it, I love reading your feedback, always!

⟡ Listen to this before or while reading! ^^

∥ Hongjoong ∥ Seonghwa ∥ Yunho ∥ Yeosang ∥ San ∥ Mingi ∥ Wooyoung ∥ Jongho ∥

            The quietness of the building would have been eerie if I didn’t know men hid around every dark corner, cameras encompassing the whole building. However, to those unknowing, it gave the false sense of aloneness. In my world, there are eyes on you always, even when you least expect it. And in a notorious mafia leader’s den, you better prepare yourself to face horror upon horror, rats upon rats. And not the animals, but mere peasants—low in the hierarchy of our world—who thought they could outsmart their leader and gain something by ratting them out to other gangs and syndicates. Except, that’s not how it works in our world, at least not in my husband and mine’s.

My heels clicked loudly against the concrete stairs as I ascended them, fur coat slipping from my shoulder as I held my little purse in one hand. It was slightly warmer up here, and more well lit compared to the downstairs. I rounded the corner and was met with two tall men, gazing straight ahead, until I stopped in front of them and caught their attention. Recognition flashed behind their eyes instantly. It wasn’t too often I stopped by the warehouse, I preferred fancy places and not beaten down lairs that had insects crawling around. Both figuratively and literally.

��Ma’am.” Both men bowed their heads in unison, eyes staying glued to the floor as I smiled, allowing my fur coat to slip down my shoulders.

“Do you mind putting this away for me?” I asked with a sweet tone, extending the expensive fur coat towards the man standing to my left.

“No, ma’am, it will be in your office this instant.” The man bowed his head again before he turned right and took off hurriedly, headed for my office. Well, it wasn’t my office per se, but my husband was sweet enough to let me have a decent sized room in this gloomy warehouse of his for when my presence was mostly needed. Like tonight.

“Is he in his office?” I asked as I looked towards the large oak doors at the end of the hallway, but the remaining security guard just shook his head.

“No, ma’am, he’s in the chamber.”

“Ah.” I chuckled, looking down towards the dark hallway on my left, suddenly registering the soft classical music that was coming from the only room down there. The chamber, or, better known, the torture room. For some reason, the men working here avoided calling it that and it had always amused me. Tough, bulky, fearless men uncomfortable to call it the torture room? It’s rather comedic, taken what their jobs in my husband’s empire require most of times from them. I offered the guard another sweet smile before throwing my purse over my shoulder, holding its paper-thin strap decorated with the finest diamonds on Earth, “I’ll be on my way, then.”

The guard bowed his head deeply and as I took off, the sound of my heels echoing around us, the soft classical music louder the further I walked down the hallway. The long sleeve of my dress did an amazing job at keeping the chill in the air away from my body, the fabric a black velvet and really warm. It was a present from my dearest husband, not even a week ago. I had gotten him a necklace filled with diamonds, and so, he felt it necessary to return the offer by buying me something pretty. He knows I have a weakness for long sleeved black velvet dresses with a deep V-cut. I chuckled as I stopped in front of the white door, the screams of whoever was behind the door not so quiet anymore. The music from up-close wasn’t loud enough to mask the pained moans anymore. I gripped the handle and pushed the door open, stepping inside.

There was a stale smell in the room and my eyebrows furrowed as I shielded my nose, the stench of blood familiar yet still disgusting. The clicking of my heels was masked by the overly loud screams of the man as I walked further inside the room, looking to my left. A man that looked slightly familiar was strapped down to a table, a drill buzzing as it rammed against his leg, no less into his bone. I shot him a pitiful look, the man begging louder and louder for it to stop as he noticed me. But in this den full of lions, I wasn’t the boss. It was my husband.

Choi Jongho.

Looking ahead, I was greeted with the familiar sight of him, relaxed into his leather armchair, swirling his bourbon around in his glass. I smiled at him sweetly as I slowly approached him, stepping on black carpet as Jongho watched me with attentive eyes, slightly darker in this lightning than they actually were. It made me grin in satisfaction when I noticed the diamond necklace around his neck, the top of his shirt undone. Well, that certainly was a delicious sight.

I came to a stop in front of the man, grin morphing into a smirk as he further parted his legs, grabbing my wrist to pull me to stand between them. Jongho took another gulp of his bourbon before placing the empty glass on the little table he had by the armchair, letting his head fall back as he looked up at me, sharp eyes trailing up from my legs to my eyes, biting his lower lip once we made eye contact.

“You look pristine for someone who’s torturing somebody.” My voice was low, perhaps sultry for such setting, but then again, I always found joy in toying with my dear husband when the situation wasn’t too fit for it.

“Hoshi just left, I wanted to be the one finishing the job.” Jongho’s usually angelic voice was now low, baritone rumbling his chest. I licked my lips, completely distracted by my husband as the screaming man’s voice became quite bearable after a while. I’ve heard people louder and more awful than him, to be fair.

“Of course,” I chuckled softly and gulped down a gasp as I was yanked down in Jongho’s lap, him sitting up properly as he circled my waist with his arm, leaning incredibly close to my face, “you love other people doing your dirty work for you, just to be the one to finish it.”

“If I have hired them, I expect them to do their part of the deal, you know.” Jongho muttered, eyes glued to my glossy lips. I had decided to try out a new lip gloss tonight, it tasted like strawberries. The man’s pained screams became rather pathetic by now as he continued wailing, the sound blending together with Jongho’s favorite musical piece. My husband has always loved a good opera.

“Care to tell me why the man looks familiar?” I threw a glance towards the tortured person on the table as I reached up, fingers tangling into Jongho’s black roots, softly pulling on them as his eyes fluttered just a little.

“He used to be my intel man,” Jongho’s voice was airy, but he gulped and his jaw clenched when my fingers pulled a little harsher at the hair on his nape, “turns out he was the rat sending information to my father.”

I scoffed, jaw clenching as I turned to look at the man laying strapped down to the table. So, he was the reason why Jongho’s, and subsequently my, affairs kept getting sabotaged, “Took you long enough to find him.”

“Don’t mock me, woman.” Jongho snapped, grabbing my jaw and turning my head back to face him, “I worked faster than your pathetic excuses of goons did, didn’t I?”

“No need to get so worked up, honey,” I chuckled, leaning so close our noses brushed together, “however, you could have been smarter about this.”

When Jongho said nothing just raised his eyebrows, his right hand slipping from my waist to my ass to squeeze, I smirked at him, leaning close to his ear, “You should have kept him alive and fed him with false intel, fucked with your father a little, you know?”

When I went to pull back, Jongho gripped my nape and held me in place, lips brushing lightly against my exposed ear as my hair was pulled back in a low bun, “I would have done that if my father already didn’t know that I had found out about this little fucker.”

I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, Jongho’s musky scent mingling with the stench of blood making my stomach tighten as I leaned back, the hand holding his nape sneaking towards his neck as I started toying with the necklace I had gifted him, “So, when are we going after you father?”

“As soon as your brother bites down on our trap.” I smirked, excited for the day to come as Jongho’s large palm squeezed my ass once, before softly making me stand up. I knew what he wanted without saying a word, and I grinned as I grabbed my forgotten purse off the floor, opening it. I made sure to bend down just the right amount in front of Jongho, my dress ridding up but not to the point of showing my ass, and I heard him suck in a harsh breath. Bingo, men are so easy. My favorite handgun glinted in the light and I blew Jongho a kiss before walking towards the screaming man, hips swaying in a way I knew would have Jongho hard in no time.

You see, our marriage wasn’t out of love, it wasn’t even close to that of a forced one. Our marriage was of convenience, both of us hungry for more and determined to do whatever we had to in order to get to the top. Jongho’s father, the most powerful mafia head in the country, and my brother, the second most affluential man of our country, were our targets. Once both were gone, Jongho and I would be ruling over everyone and everything in this damned country. And we were so close to finally getting what we wanted, five years of hard and diligent work finally getting repaid as his father was getting sloppy with his trades, and my brother arrogant to the point he was making banal mistakes even a newbie wouldn’t make. Soon, the empire would be mine—and Jongho’s. Soon, people would be bowing down at our feet, begging for their sins to be forgiven.

I stopped by the man’s side and turned the drill off, his screams ringing for a few more seconds until just his sobs were heard. His body was covered in wounds and bruises as it convulsed, he was as good as dead at this point. I sighed, feigning sadness as I stepped back, walking to the foot of the table, undoing the safety of my handgun. The man’s eyes widened when he registered my presence at his feet, but before he could make a sound, the bullet had already pierced his skull, the silencer on my handgun masking the sound and its lethalness. Claps resounded in the room, the classical music finally over, and I rolled my eyes and turned around. Jongho had an amused smile on his face as he stopped clapping, holding my purse as I slowly walked back towards him, eyes narrowing when he extended his palm, silently asking for my handgun. I reluctantly placed it in his hand and we shared a prolonged stare, our thoughts no doubt the same. If he killed me now, he’d be the next mafia head and yielder of all business. But he placed my handgun inside my purse and then gently placed that on the small table, next to his glass.

As I went to cross my arms in front of my chest and demand to know why he had flown oversees without letting me know first, I was yanked down in his lap again, this time failing to silence my gasp. I steadied myself using his firm shoulders, thighs resting on both sides of his hips, the leather soft against my naked skin. Jongho’s right hand rested on my left knee, slowly gliding up towards my thigh, his palm warm and yet rings cool against my skin. I gulped as Jongho smirked confidently, and quite smugly, leaning up to press our chests together.

“This dress drives me fucking insane,” He rasped, eyes staying glued to my exposed cleavage, “I’m glad I bought it for you.”

I chuckled, but didn’t allow myself to get sidetracked. I already knew Jongho and his tactics when he tried to avoid something, and it was always sex. Well, he wouldn’t get that until he did some explaining.

“Why did you go to Japan?” I raised an eyebrow, glaring down at him despite the way his hands were slowly creeping closer to my panties.

“Had to supervise some cargo before it got sent off.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

At his deadpan voice, I sneered and leaned in his face, glaring into his dark eyes, “Don’t fucking lie to me, Jongho. You have enough men to do that for you. If I find out you’re doing something behind my back, I will kill you.”

“Relax, love,” Jongho chuckled, hand slipping to my ass and kneading the flesh through the lacey panties I wore. I bit my lower lip, hiking myself a little higher up in his lap, “When I made my vows to you, I meant it when I said we’d stay together forever—unless you are conspiring behind my back, about to break my trust.”

“That’s not my style, and you know that.” I chuckled as Jongho’s fingers dug into the flesh of my ass, making me lick my lips just as he leaned up, closing the distance between us. It’s been a week since I last have felt his lips against mine, and I moaned against his mouth as he sucked my bottom lip between his teeth, slowly releasing it with a pop. But I didn’t allow him to pull back as I chased after his soft mouth, our lips moving messily as Jongho’s palm on my ass urged me to roll my hips against his already growing erection. I groaned into his mouth, slipping my tongue past his lips when he opened up enough, our tongues dancing together as he let me explore his hot mouth. His free hand caressed my hip before slowly trailing up my body, cupping my breast and squeezing as I moaned again, gyrating my hips in the right way, slow and teasing, knowing well that Jongho would lose his cool in the next ten seconds. And as I bit his bottom lip, sucking it between my teeth and biting hard on it, his eyes flew open and he hissed, all but almost ripping my panties apart as he yanked them down, urging me to raise slightly up as I smirked, kissing all the way from his jaw up to his ear, taking his earring between my teeth as I licked at his earlobe with my tongue.

The world wasn’t ready for our empire.

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[madame-fear]

𐙚 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄.

[ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟏𝟏 | 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐍. ]

ೀ amira speaks.ᐟ : 9 months passed since I last updated this series... hope this was worth the wait, you guys? ;w; honourary tag to @avatar4life for motivating me to get back into writing TPOL <3 ˗ˏˋ ꒰ summary : when you withdraw yourself after losing your son, it seems as if the Gods don’t care about your attempt to recover; it’s one disappointment after the other. How could you not be bitter? // requested by the lovely @juliavilu1 ♡ ˗ˏˋ ꒰ word count : 3.8k (it felt longer.)

˗ˏˋ ꒰ genre : mostly angst. ˗ˏˋ ꒰ pairing : Lucerys Velaryon x Jace’s Wife!Reader

WARNING.ᐟ THIS FIC CONTAINS ; mentions of reader’s miscarriage. reader continuing to grieve, non-canon compliant, Jace trying to be a proper husband lmao

ʚɞ TPOL masterlist.

The faint droplets of rain hitting against your face had perfectly blended along the soft tears that ran across your reddened cheeks, as you assisted the funeral of your son. The funeral of your child had been hosted the morrow after your miscarriage— yet, tears could only lazily escape from you.

That desperate, almost helpless need to cry your entire being out had faded away; with only a harrowing grief remaining, continously lurking around you— bringing a familiar sensation of emptiness.

A son. You had given birth to a perfect male heir for your Lord Husband’s line of succession— and what had it all been for? If all that ardous work to be a proper politically-convenient wife and future Queen, bearing with the physically and mentally exhausting responsability of carrying an heir to the Throne, had been tossed into the wind as if it meant nothing.

You felt obliged to carry on. Being the future King and Queen of the Iron Throne, an heir had to be produced from your marriage. But, how could you find any possible strength, at the moment?

It was only in the privacy of your own chambers, where all the tears knotting heavily on your throat, could be freely released. The stillness of your now often darkened chambers brought a dreary comfort, allowing you to calmly rest against the silk sheets of your bed— consumming yourself in your own thoughts, being completely unbothered by anyone.

Seconds, hours, days, weeks had passed, with you continuing to quietly grieve for your miscarriaged son. The muscles in your body weighed, barely allowing you to properly function for the most insignificant, basic dutied. Had the Gods damned a curse upon your marriage? Or had they cursed you, you wondered?

Visitors in your chambers weren’t rare. At times, you dismissed anyone who dared set a foot on the floor of your private, quiet space; while other times, you allowed yourself to be soothed by those who loved you the most. Rhaenyra, having suffered from a miscarriage herself, could only comprehend your current emotional state. And having shared such feelings, she respected the need you have to privately grieve— despite often wanting to visit you, and bring you things to lift your mood.

It was the eldest Velaryon prince, who always did the best of his efforts to be there for you no matter how many responsabilities there were for him to fulfill as future King, and whose guilt slowly consumed him. The continous work you did to learn how to be a proper future Queen, to provide him with an heir... To keep up with the facade of your marriage despite allowing each other to have lovers of your own, never passed unnoticed.

And now, you both grieved for the death of your son. Though, there was no denying that you, overall, had suffered the most. You could only offer pure selfless devotion, and had any of that ever been reciprocated? It never felt as if he had expressed enough gratitude for anything you did, and all your constant efforts to exclusively satisfy him. How could the guilt-ridden thoughts not gnaw on Jacaerys?

Jace’s clear intentions to compensate all that he lacked ever since you had been betrothed were notorious— and you were grateful for his generosity. For once and for all, he had the decency to act like a proper husband. Like a father who had just lost his son, and like a husband who almost losses his wife during labour. However, his company never sufficed to fill the growing void that kept you petrified in the enclosure of your privacy.

You had oftentimes rejected his requests to offer you some company, and Jace could only respect that; giving you the privacy, and the silence you deserved to process the events. It was especially notorious that you deserved more time for yourself, as your grief — with the passing of the days — leisurely turned into a mere bitter fury, violently rushing through every inch of your body. Not outrage, but a desperating need to seek for vengeance.

Had the One Eyed prince not attempted to murder Lucerys in Storm’s End, you would’ve most likely not suffered from that miscarriage— caused by the stress of the entire situation. And now, as if that hadn’t been enough, Aemond’s brother had usurped the Throne that rightfully belonged to your mother-in-law. How could you not be insatiable for revenge, for everything they had caused in your family?

Amidst all the turmoil of your own confused emotions, Lucerys was the only one you sought the most for— the one who’s presence actually brought some genuine calming warmth, while your sanity hung from a thin, fraying thread. Despite his remaining physically weakened state after surviving Storm’s End, you managed to frequently visit one another.

The maesters had suggested for the Heir of the Tides to remain in bed as much as possible while he healed from his wounds, and to walk, he’d have to temporarily use a cane. The secondborn son of Rhaenyra found his way to sneak to your chambers late at night, avoiding the unnecessary event of getting scolded by a maester — perhaps even by Jace and his mother — to regularly check on you after the daunting miscarriage you suffered.

The only one who gave you the will to move your muscles out of bed, even if you just practically dragged yourself out of it, was the future Lord of Driftmark. Whenever Luke had to stay in bed to recover quicker, you were the one sneaking through the halls to give him a visit, and checking his health state as well— much like he always did with you. And any opportunity you had of spending your time with Lucerys, you happily took it.

The heir of Driftmark... The only one who could properly fill that growing shallow void inside of you. And the only one who would comfort you tenderly whenever your emotions went from dispirited, to infuriated each time you remembered the situations surrounding your family.

At the moment, your gaze was lifted towards the light blue skies— cleared from any clouds. The bright beams of the sunlight were strong enough for your eyes to faintly squint, continuing to silently admire the view. You were enveloped in your own thoughts, as you awaited for Lucerys to arrive. Something common between the two of you was going out for walks around the vast gardens of Dragonstone, simply to talk, or share thoughts.

The future Lord had been the one to insist going out for a walk around the gardens, and you simply agreed. Though, you couldn’t help but feel a bit of guilt knowing his state wasn’t perfect yet, as he had to walk around with a cane.

“You came. I’m happy to know you’re here.” a familiar voice cooed behind of you, causing you to turn around. It was none other than Lucerys, of course, as you had been expecting him. A faint grin formed on the corner of your lips, seeing how Luke approached closer to you; the cane tapping against the ground with each step.

Your presence around Dragonstone in general was a rare sighting ever since you miscarriaged. Tireless attempts had been made to get you out of your chambers, and yet, everyone failed to convince you— until now. Knowing you did the effort to walk out towards the gardens, despite the constant heaviness you felt in every sense, made the secondborn son of Rhaenyra rather proud.

Inhaling some fresh oxygen and the sweet scent of the garden flowers felt refreshing... Soothing, calming. “Of course I came. I could never refuse any of your proposals.” you remarked quietly, and you had done well in accepting to walk around the gardens. For the first time ever since you had began your own battle with grief, those self-loathing thoughts managed to vanish very slightly. All you had to do, was admire the lovely sightings before you, and the surroundings.

His free hand was offered for you to take, and that’s what you had done. Delicately placing your hand on top of his own, both of you began strolling through the place with soft steps. His green eyes observed you, “You don’t have to go out only because I ask you to come with me.” he began, “You have to go out for yourself. It will make you feel slightly better.”

Discreetly, you eye rolled at his words, continuing to faintly grin. You weren’t surprised about his usual overprotectiveness around you— but, you couldn’t complain, neither you could say you didn’t understand his reasons to be that way. “I know, you don’t have to remind me.” you replied, with a slight colder tone. “You’re right, however. The fresh air feels... Relieving.”

A brief moment of silence appeared, feeling how his bright green eyes kept staring at you, while he guided you through the gardens. “It feels more relieving than praying to the Gods, certainly.” you continued, “I’ve turned my attention to the faith of the Seven, seeking to find some sort of... Solace. And the only feedback I ever received from them, was nothingness.”

The Prince was aware of the different activities you tried to engage whilst being in your chambers, and not laying in bed— such as sewing, writing, reading... And praying, as well. He could only understand why you would try to desperately find comfort by praying to the Gods; but while many other people could turn to them for relief, you couldn’t. Despondency could only drown you helplessly, along with bitterness.

“I have more than once been sure that the Gods must despise me.” the leaves softly crunched beneath you, with each steps you gave. The sound of your voice was gentle, being merely heard by only him. “My betrothal has been damned by them, as well as my child. I must have been damned by them.” while those thoughts initially tightened a knot in your throat, bringing you at the edge of tears, you had learned to live with such belief of yours.

A frown appeared on his expressions, furrowing his eyebrows softly. The personality change you suffered was drastic, filled with constant self-loathe. Words lacked for him to properly comfort you from the pain you had been burdened with, they just weren’t enough anymore— Luke wished he could protect you from your own sea of thoughts, make them fade away in an instant. If only it were that easy.

“The Gods don’t despise you, nor you’ve been damned by them.” your gaze turned to him this time, instead of the path you walked in. “You simply shouldn’t have been exposed to all these political situations while being with child.” Lucerys said, hoping to offer you some comfort. “If anything, you should have been protected from all of that.”

You were the most selfless, devoted person he cherished the most. If anything, the Gods themselves should be the ones cherishing you as well. Purity and innocence exuded from you, and you had been unjustly put into suffering. If there was anyone to blame, it was his uncles... Well, the Greens in general, perhaps.

Craning your head to the path in front of you as you approached a little bench you both sat in each time you came to the gardens, you clenched your jaw slightly in vexation.

Sorrow mixed with a growing wrath was such a nasty, bitter mix for you. Had you had the chance of riding a dragon’s back and burn down King’s Landing with dragonfire all by yourself at the present moment, you would do it in the blink of an eye, with no hesitation. How could they have the audacity to ruin your family bit by bit with their resentment, hidden under the excuse of rightneousness?

“If your grandmother had burnt them down when she had the opportunity, none of this would’ve happened.” you remarked, in a low tone. Without even having to stare at him, you could notice his eyes slightly widening in surprise at your response. “My son wouldn’t have died if it weren’t for the distress that bought me the news of your uncle almost murdering you, and your mother’s throne wouldn’t be usurped.”

Innocenced grasped out of you, with the passing of the time, and of the days. “And yet, your mother still doesn’t want to start war with the Greens.” as you continued talking, you both reached the small bench, being allowed to sit first, only to then have the Velaryon heir sitting next to you.

Another brief moment of silence lurked. It was almost startling to see you thinking of war, when the only thing you always provided everyone with, was mere sweetness and peacefulness. “I thought you weren’t one to think of war.” Lucerys responded, still soothingly, curiously laying his eyes on your features. Though, he wasn’t one to complain if you were willing to vehemently fight for his mother’s rightful birthright— you were quite an admirable woman.

“I never really was one to support, or want war.” lifting your sight towards his eyes, you offered him a frowny smile. And you felt it again, the tears threatening to spill from your now watery eyes, as a knot on your throat made your voice sound broken. A great deal of strenght had to be taken, fighting back the urge to keep crying any more in front of him. “But that part of me died, already. It died along with my son.”

“War isn’t an option. It’s an answer.” you scoffed, correcting yourself. “The answer, actually.”

You couldn’t be risked by going into war. The most precioust thing Lucerys could had ever adored genuinely, with the purest adoration. Anyone, but you. “Jace wouldn’t want you to go to war, and neither do I.” while Luke knew Jace wouldn’t want you either engaging in war, much less in the current state you were in, the one who dreaded down to the core the idea of you getting harmed in any possible way during war, was actually Lucerys himself.

“Jace’s lover is going to war. Why wouldn’t I? It’s only fair I get to fight for my family’s rights as well.” you had a point. And while you were one insistent person, Lucerys would further strive to be even more insistent than you were— attempting to convince you to care after yourself. The future Lord refused to have you involved in any sort of war, or battle.

“You’re still his wife. His wife who still grieves for the son you both just lost.” he argued back, “I doubt he’ll want any more grand troubles for you. None of us wouldn’t wish for you to get any more distressed than you already clearly are.” his hand rested delicately on your shoulder as he spoke, using his thumb to caress you affectionately.

The warmth of his touch, accompanied with his adoring stare, could almost make you melt. There was no doubt that both boys held deep appreciation for you... But, each appreciated you in their own ways. Still, the only company that could genuinely fill that void inside of you, was Lucerys.

It wasn’t that Jace didn’t love you, and neither that you didn’t love him— it was all quite the contrary. But you had both agreed to stay married for political conveniences, and turn to your own lovers privately.

You had naturally grieved together for the death of your biological child together. Jace had cried by your side during the funeral,, holding you tightly when you needed it the most. You received several visits from him in your chambers to check on your health, as well as different sorts of gifts that the eldest Velaryon knew you’d like.

Yet, it simply felt like a kind friend taking care of another friend, rather than the supposed husband-wife relationship you were meant to have... Far from the relationship you craved to have with him from the beginning. And you had to admit, each time you reminded yourself of the private deal you both made, deep down inside it still felt painful.

“I’m not saying Jace doesn’t care for me, I know he does. And I know you do, too.” you paused, “But I’m only his political wife, we agreed to each have lovers of our own. And my way to grieve our child, will be by going to war against the Greens.”

When you referred to his cousin as Jace’s lover, the future Lord only guessed it was a manner of saying. Luke was no stranger to the constant efforts you put into showing Jace your devotion, and the genuine love you felt for him. He could’ve only thought that, somehow, you managed to deal together with the tense situation of his brother being focused on another woman.

And you had, in a way— but not in the way Luke expected. For how long had you kept the deal to yourselves, he wondered?

As long as you both were satisfied with the agreement, Lucerys was pleased as well. Though, having known you for quite some time and having grown closer to you, the Prince knew it was quite the opposite; and the miscarriage you suffered only helped to withdraw yourself further.

One couldn’t change what, or who your heart desired, of course... But one thing you change, was the way you acted. And Jace hadn’t been exactly discreet with his attention turned to his cousin, neither had he paid any mind to your countless attempts of bonding with him. All the devotion, constant small little dates you tried to have with Jace, all the attention you had paid to be the most caring wife, simply to be walked over.

If only Rhaenyra had betrothed him to you, he would’ve shown you what it meant to have properly reciprocated all the love you constantly offered. How could Jace not make the effort to pay any more attention with you? To cherish you, appreciate all your efforts and strength? The current attention that the future heir to the Throne gave you was simply not enough— and it made Lucerys grow desperate, internally.

His eyebrows furrowed at your words, allowing a calming silence to continue lurking between you. “I... Had no idea you agreed such thing.” he muttered, “I wish things could have been different between the two of you. You deserved to have a happy marriage with the person you loved.” if only you had known that the person you actually loved wasn’t your betrothed, but rather, his brother. Someone who had the gentleness to offer you his love and company in every situation, whether it was good, or bad.

“Things like these tend to happen in betrothals, you grow used to it.” you shrugged, almost indifferently. “I can’t deny the fact that I saw it coming from afar, with every day that passed.”

As unfair as Luke thought the situation you experienced with Jace was, it had now been his turn to experiment the same.

Days had passed, and the idea of his mother discussing to betrothe him to his cousin Rhaena hadn’t sinked down properly just yet. It was only a matter of time, until there was the need for him to have future Lady of Driftmark— it was now just a matter of the topic getting announced officially. And despite constantly trying to compromise himself to not do the exact same thing his brother did with you, the situation was far more complex.

The idea of disrespecting his betrothed didn’t suit him right, much less knowing how that had turned out for you. However, that was only if one of the two parts in the betrothal was keen in making it work with actual love, rather than sticking completely to the idea of a political convinience, like you had tried to do— and Lucerys could only cling to the hopes that he would manage to come to the same terms of each privately having lovers of their own.

Or, at least, Luke would make it far more than discreet than his brother had been.

“Betrothals are complicated. I still don’t know how I will make it work my own, with my cousin Rhaena.” and while you were distracted, silently staring at the flowers in the garden, you suddenly faced him with a raised eyebrow in dismay. His own betrothal with Rhaena? And you hadn’t heard about it, yet?

“Your own betrothal... With your cousin?” softly, you blinked your eyes several times. It felt as if your mind has been abruptly grounded once again. Lucerys mimicked your own previous actions, lifting his sight to stare back at you, as his eyes had been fixed on the ground. “Mother is planning to betrothe her to me, it will be officially announced in these upcoming days.”

The Gods must have something against you, clearly. You had grown to barely tolerate the fact that the man who’s supposed to be your Husband, and one that you had deeply loved more than anything once, was now free to have a lover of his own due to your mutual agreement— and now, the only person who had been there for you when your betrothed wasn’t... Would soon have a wife, as well?

You occasionally dreaded the mere thought of knowing his betrothal to any Lady would soon come. They were common in noble families, and Luke was no exception at all, much less being the future Lord of Driftmark. But... Somehow, that thought hadn’t occupied much space in your mind, as you were more focused on all the good things his presence brought. Now? You could only swallow the remaining crumbs of your pride.

Disappointment heavily weighed on the entirety of your body, and unsurprisingly, you felt as if there were no more tears left to cry out. All that you had built-up, had been released. The only thing left, was feel consumed by the weight of melancholy, to continue with the lowest of spirits. All you asked, was for one good thing to ease all the burden you had been carrying for the past few days.

Frowning, both your hands rested on your lap, your gazed turning down to stare at them. You thickly swallowed, releasing a huffed sigh. How silly of you to believe, you had any chances with him... Or at least, you thought you wouldn’t have a chance at all now, if there was any slight possibility.

“You will find a way to bear with it, just like I did... Like I always do.”

If only you had been married to Lucerys from the very beginning, you would have never suffered as much as you did.

@jacesvelaryons @jjamieberry @anemicroyalcore @countsmoon @beeebo86 @manuholland6 @capellaadara @kyuupidwrites @tchatso @dopepersonacloudllama @phantasyy @tasty-nutella @mstxdes @valeriecash @cookielovesbook-akie @zzz000eee @bellarkeselection @feliuuuksks @visenya-reigned @maria699669 @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @sweethoneyblossom1 @jamiemydeer @snowprincesa1 @aegonswife @cloveradora @rosieevan @eliseline

[ambrosialdesire]

OMG i would like to request yandere bertolt x paradis reader.you can pick whatever part of the timeline you want, maybe he managed to survive to take her to marly, or maybe she just tried to escape on marly or paradis, or maybe he just kidnapped her I don't really care

Thank you

desiderate

18+ DARK CONTENT BELOW, MINORS AND BLANK BLOGS DNI

pairing: s4 bertolt x fem!reader word count: 9.5k warnings + tags: general yandere and obsessive themes, unhealthy relationships, some explicit sexual content, s4 bertolt au, implied non-con, violence, kidnapping mention, stalking, forced kissing (kinda dubcon), slight groping, kinda masochistic bertolt, cigarette usage/smoking, blood kink, knife kink, slight voyeurism, male masturbation mention, panty jerking off mention (?), slight body mutilation, scarification implications, all characters are 18+ synopsis: they've brought you here on this foreign land, a land that was once believed to be completely overrun with monsters. you've been living pretty easy with this new life of yours but it's hard to forget about what he's done to your old home. this singular man, capable of complete destruction despite his nervous demeanor. there may be humans here but the true monster still remained, watching your every move until he was ready to strike. a/n: IM NGL IVE BEEN WAITING FOR SOMEONE TO REQUEST BERTOLT LMFAO i made bro a creep cause i feel like between bertie and reiner, bertie definitely has the tendency to be lurking and stalking behind corners and constantly following you and finding to opportunity to snatch your underwear to jerk off into LOL the reference that i used for s4 bertolt is this fanart that was used in a tiktok edit but i have no idea who made the art and it's making me scream bc it's definitely how i imagine what he looks like (but with thicker chin stubble) and i want to give the right creds (if you look up s4 bertolt/bertholdt fanart on google and see a tiktok image of him smoking, that's what i'm talking about but i want to give actual creds to the artist) also mb on the smoking scenes idk how it feels to smoke but i do sorta know the distinct smell of it this is also in no way connected to the cacoëthes series just to let yall know hehe i hope you enjoy this anon! thank sm for your request!! and sorry for the wait LOL note: please keep in mind of the tags above and do not proceed if triggering or uncomfortable, especially if you are a minor!! do not read my or any other writers' dark content if you are underaged. this is a fictional work and does not reflect irl morals, do not believe this is how a real romance works or functions.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ.───

"Call off your damn hound Reiner, I'm getting sick of his shit."

Pushing past the blond as you entered his home, you made your way to his dining table. You huffed as you sat down, leaning back against the chair as your boot-covered legs kicked up on the wooden table. Reiner rolled his eyes, pushing them back down to the ground with a heavy thud. He crossed his arms, leaning on the wall adjacent from where you sat.

"A hello first would suffice. What's Bertolt getting himself into again?"

"My business!" Exasperated, you threw your hands over your face. "He keeps fucking following me and it's starting to freak me out. You guys know I'm not suspicious anymore, there's no way for me to be able to contact Paradis Island at all."

Saying your old home's name had started to feel foreign on your tongue unfortunately. It's been over four years since you've been whisked away by these two assholes and living here has been nothing but a thorn on your side. You worked under the Warrior Unit, mostly a simple soldier for both Bertolt and Reiner to boss around for basic things. It's nothing different from your time as a scout but it's frustrating working for them instead of with them.

You don't know why they took you away with them instead of breaking out their other accomplice, Annie, but after a handful of screaming, punching, kicking, and biting from you, they managed to drag you off to the boat. You stayed there for an estimated week or so with random strangers coming and going, poking and prodding at you as if you were one of Hange's experiments on Eren and randomly caught Titans.

The two of them finally came back one random night unconscious, battered and beaten to the point where their Titan healing powers couldn't even help them fast enough. You needed them alive — how else were you going to manage escaping this unknown place of theirs — so you helped tend to their wounds, staying at their sides until they were finally awake.

Once they were conscious enough, you punched Reiner square on the nose, spinning around to smash your knuckles right into Bertolt's cheek. Your hand was throbbing in pain but the burning fury you felt was stronger. By the time they woke up, the boat already was leaving the docks, and now you were most likely already miles away from home.

"You fucking assholes."

Blood was dripping down his nose, while a cut just barely formed on the bruised skin of the other. It was in vain however. Steam was steadily coming out of the two of them, meaning that the healing was back in working condition.

"FUCK! I didn't even say anything yet!" Reiner scowled as he placed his hands around his nose, snapping it back in place with a nauseating crack.

Bertolt laid there quietly however, lanky fingers brushing against the welt on his face but he was unable to meet your stare. Tears started streaming down your face, your body crumpling to the floor. You were completely hurt, you trusted these two like they were family, especially Bertolt. Was he really who you thought he was? How could they do this to you? To everyone back in Paradis?

"Why? Why me?"

The two of them fell even more silent, Reiner looking up at the ceiling while Bertolt closed his eyes shut as if he was the one that was currently going through it.

"Well say something goddamnit! Why am I here?" You were beyond angry, voice crackling from how loud you were screaming at them. "Tell me!"

Bertolt finally opened his eyes, pale green staring into yours. You couldn't see him. There was only the Colossal Titan looking down at you as if you were nothing but an insignificant speck on the wall. He opened his mouth, uttering remorselessly one phrase that made you even more resentful of their entire beings.

"I'm sorry."

Now you were here after long months of being processed and interviewed over and over by many Marleyan higher-ups, eventually and finally gaining their trust. You knew they still didn't like you but who really gives a shit, they left you alive and that's all you could be grateful for.

Since you directly worked underneath the two Titan shifters, they were able to get you housing and some basic supplies for you to be able to function properly in their society, as well as a good amount of pocket money to buy whatever you needed. You didn't go out of the house for a month though, still horribly and rightfully angry at them. You were also afraid of the idea that you'd get mobbed immediately once you stepped out and killed on sight by the locals.

Bertolt was the one that finally knocked on your door, tired and baggy eyes focused on the peephole. Part of you wanted to keep the door closed and ignore his presence, but he might report you or something stupidly petty. When you opened it up, the faint waft of bitter tobacco invaded your senses, nose wrinkling at the unfamiliar smell.

As you looked up at him, he felt and looked even more like a stranger than a past friend. It's only been a month but it looked like he had gotten broader at the shoulders and taller. He was wearing a beige uniform, a white undershirt and black tie peeking out of the chest of the long, belted trench coat. His black hair was partially pushed back with gel, slightly being more grown out from the last time you saw him. The way he held himself now in Marley was completely different from Paradis, an eerie calmness surrounding his person. He used to hunch into himself when he was a trainee and a soldier, but now his back was rigid and straight, arms hidden neatly behind his back. The posture reminded you of the utmost dedicated soldiers in the Scout Regiment.

"You haven't been going to work." He softly spoke, his head slightly tilting to the side.

"So?"

"Failure to comply means termination. Termination means you'll get kicked out of Marley. Getting kicked out of Marley means death." Alright, straight to the point. Even the way he was speaking sounded different, as if he had suddenly gained a newfound confidence that was only present here in his homeland.

"You guys really thought I was able to function properly in a new continent where everything is different in a few months? Not to mention, I'm still pissed off at the two of you but fine. I'll come in tomorrow. Goodbye." You proceeded to close the door on him but he stopped it with his boot. Groaning under your breath, you tried pushing at the door so he could back off, but it was to no avail.

His hand grabbed the side of the door and heaved it open with little struggle, letting himself in as you toppled back into the ground from the force.

"You haven't been going out at all. When's the last time you bought groceries?" You flinched, avoiding his judging gaze. How did he know?

"Last month." You muttered as you got up from the ground, brushing yourself off.

Bertolt sighed, glancing off to the side. "Okay. I'll wait here for 15 minutes. Go get dressed and get your money, I'll help you navigate the markets."

You didn't want to but food was definitely running low, and you don't know how long the canned meat in your pantry was going to last in your anger-riddled protest. You made your way upstairs, rummaging through the closet and grabbing the cleanest clothes you were able to find and put on within the time limit he gave. Making your way back down, you found him in the exact same spot, his eyes glancing around the living room.

"Alright. Let's go and we're going to make it quick. I don't think I can stomach standing next to you for this long." You bitterly grumbled, moodily pulling the door open. Bertolt followed after, closing the door for you and taking the lead. What sucked even more was how quickly you had to dash after him, his steps being too large for you to have a steady pace next to him. Maybe him being a near giant compared to a normal person — you noticed as the two of you walked through crowds of people — was thanks to the Titan DNA.

Each passerby gave you a look as you walked on through but never spared a second glance, which was good. You knew that you were an unfamiliar being, a foreigner that was never supposed to be here in the first place. The farmer's market was still open, vegetables and fruits neatly lined up in each stall. He did most of the talking, being able to haggle easier due to his status and the blaring armband that wrapped around his upper arm. You didn't like having to be publicly labeled, it felt like you were merely a product rather than a person.

You were focusing on a stall with jars of honey and jams when some person suddenly shoved you aside with their shoulder, body suddenly losing its balance due to the amount of groceries you were holding on one arm. You prepared for the impact of the cobbled ground but never felt it, instead feeling a firm hand snug in-between your curve of your side and another on your shoulder.

"Careful now." You opened your eyes, meeting his in shock once he steadied you back on your feet. Bertolt's face soon turned to a bright red, his hands quickly leaving you, and his gaze glancing away. Perhaps there really is still some semblance of the man you knew in your homeland.

"Th-thanks..." Adjusting the bag stiffly back up your arms, you proceeded forwards without him, leaving him behind at the stall. It became a usual thing eventually, he'd come over every two weeks to make sure you were fine and the two of you would go out buying your necessities for an hour or two. It didn't erase the fact that you still hated them, but at least he was helping you get comfortable in this strange new world.

You finally started going to work as promised, wearing an awkward and stuffy white uniform that made even the tangling straps of the cadet uniform pale in comparison. According to the paper that came with the uniform, you were to report to Reiner and Bertolt in one of the headquarters' rooms. However, the details were so vague that you were completely lost in the beginning, roaming the hallways without a clue where you were heading.

"Soldier. Face me."

You stiffened, turning around and straightening up. The tall man was vaguely familiar, a full blond beard lining his face and round spectacles hiding his eyes. His right hand raised up as if he was saying hello and you quickly returned the gesture, somewhat remembering that it was their version of a salute.

"Name and ranking?"

"Y/N L/N, er... I'm not sure of my ranking sir. I just know I'm assigned to work for the Vice Captain and one of the Warriors?" You shuffled your feet awkwardly and he nodded, gesturing his hand for you to follow him. He started scratching his ear as he walked, as if he was in thought. To you, he really felt familiar but you couldn't quite place where the feeling belonged.

"Ah yes," His eyes glanced at you, the blue color peeking out from behind the glasses. "Now I remember. You're Reiner and Bertolt's human souvenir from the devil island, aren't you?"

Is that what they called you? And how dare he call your home a devil island! A bubble of anger was rising within you, but you didn't want to take it out on the older man that was helping you find your way. He had to be a higher-up based on his demeanor and you'd rather not get in more trouble.

"...Yes sir, I am."

"You were supposed to be here a month ago." You cringed internally but nodded slowly.

"It's my fault sir. I've only been here for a few months and everything is too... new. I hope my absence didn't affect anything." The man simply hummed, stopping at a door with the words 'WARRIORS UNIT' neatly carved into the wood. You pulled the door for him, letting him saunter in before you entered.

"I found your little pet, you two." His hand pressed against the small of your back, pushing you forwards towards a table where the two of them sat. They looked completely exhausted and were partially bandaged up, quietly sparing a glance at you with a short wave.

You settled yourself in-between them, about to thank the man for helping you but he was already stepping away, going outside to light up a cigarette.

"Don't mind Zeke, he's just... eccentric like that. Hope he didn't offend you." Reiner pushed a pile of papers towards you to sort once you turned back to them, saying something about piling them from who sent them; the important files being from the commander and the Marleyan superiors and the unimportant files being from other soldiers. It slowly dawned on you that you became some sort of assistant to them, a glorified secretary for their war schemes.

"It's nothing too difficult, you're lucky to get this kind of work compared to us and the other Eldian soldiers." Bertolt slightly smiled, continuing to read a paper in his hands and you sighed quietly, beginning to sort. Part of you was grateful you didn't have to face war anymore, but the other part didn't want to be treated differently. Maybe the Marleyans thought that you'd defect once you were on the field or kill as many as you can with a weapon in your hands, going out in a blaze of glory. You never held a gun before though and it was most likely that everyone in this military could shoot you down before you could aim it at one person.

An hour or two passed by and you finished up the sorting, neatly tapping them together. It really wasn't a difficult task at all, were they going to make you do something else for today? You quietly waited for any orders, the two focused on their own thing until Reiner suddenly got up.

"I'll go get lunch for us. Y/N, you can relax for now, there's nothing else we need from you today. Good work." He ruffled the top of your head playfully, just like he did before after a training session in the corps. The blond soon left the room, leaving only Bertolt and you alone.

The two of you sat in silence, your hands fiddling with the seams of your uniform. Was sorting the only thing you're going to be doing during your time here? You'd quit within the month if that was the case but if not, maybe in due time you'll save enough money to open up your own shop. You've always wanted to sell clothing back in Paradis, just like your mother and father.

"You look good in the uniform." Bertolt finally mumbled out, the sound of a paper flipping over barely making it audible. You slightly flushed at the comment, diverting your attention to the closest wall in sight.

"Really? I feel like a wet cotton ball, it's so uncomfortable. The scouts uniform is way better." You grumbled, tugging at the cloth around your legs.

He slightly laughed at that, shaking his head. "No way. The scouts uniform was too tight, not to mention the straps were always so difficult to put on."

"Maybe it's cause you're a literal giant compared to everyone there. I just know they had to customize a whole other set for your ass." He snorted and started laughing, dropping the paper in his hand. You couldn't help but let out a few chuckles as well, crossing your arms together. The two of you bantered for a little bit longer and just for a second, it felt like you were right back home in the training corps canteen.

Everything fuzzed out in your hearing and you soon found yourself comparing home to here. The smells were different, not quite fresh as the countryside air and had a more smoky tone with every breath you took. The sights were different, more machinery was seen rather than grassy fields and trees. The people were different, there was no one recognizable to chat with besides your kidnappers. Everything here had entirely evolved and you were being forced to adapt to it. The realization made you feel a drop in your stomach, tears beginning to form in the corners of your eyes.

"Bertolt."

"Hm?"

"I want to go back home." Your voice was meek, heavy droplets falling down and staining the white fabric beneath you. His body stiffened and he got up from his chair, almost slamming it into the table when he pushed it in.

"This is your home." He responded coldly, a singe of irritation trailing off his words as he left the room, slamming the heavy door shut. You started to sob quietly, tightly holding onto the sides of your sleeved arms.

No it wasn't, and Bertolt knew it too.

‘•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’

Your work schedule was simple: Monday to Wednesday from 9:30 am to 6 pm, you served the Warrior Unit. Every other day, you could do whatever you wanted and that was that. The pay was pretty good for a livable wage, but nothing special. No task you were given from Reiner or Zeke was too difficult either, it was usually just sending out letters to their superiors or sorting anything they wanted you to sort. To be honest, it felt like they were just tolerating you since the Marley government didn't want to deal with you anymore. It sucked but it's better than being belly-up in the ocean.

You haven't tried to make amends with Bertolt after that day because one, it was his fault so why would you apologize anyways and two, he hasn't been around that often in the office space. Reiner explained to you that there will be days, sometimes weeks or months where some or none of them will be here. Apparently when they came back with the failure to retrieve the Founding Titan, the loss of Annie and her Titan, and the inability to capture Eren's special Titan, some nations came together and declared war on Marley.

"Hopefully it won't be so often that we're going to be gone for long. Wouldn't want to have you sit at home and do nothing." Reiner teased with a slight nudge against your arm before downing his glass of liquor.

"I do nothing even when working. Maybe I'll pick up some new hobbies when you guys are gone, like knitting or cross-stitching."

Maybe you can give the creations to your neighbors since you were just doing it for fun. One of them is an expectant mother and since you had moved in, she had been nothing but kind to you. It would be nice to give something to her in return.

"Alright grandma." You elbowed his side hard, rolling your eyes. He grunted and started rubbing the affected area, grumbling under his breath about your temper.

"Where's Bertolt? Aren't you guys inseparable?" He suddenly cleared his throat, adjusting himself in his seat. Back in the training corps and the short time in the Survey Corps, you've rarely seen the two separated. Wherever Reiner went, Bertolt followed suit.

"Probably caught up in something. He'll be here soon, he never cancels without notice." He waved his hand dismissively and you thought none the wiser, tracing your finger around the rim of your glass before taking a swig.

"Already missing him?" You suddenly choked on the liquor, throat burning at the sensation. No way. No way in hell, you'd ever miss him. He could get swallowed up by another Pure Titan and you wouldn't even bat an eye. You'd laugh instead, basking in the blood that would gush out of his torn corpse.

Before you could even say anything back, a soft voice popped into the conversation. "Missing who?"

The two of you turned and there stood Marley's behemoth, still dressed to the nines in his uniform. Reiner greeted him happily, ignoring the question completely, turning towards the bartender and ordering another scotch for his friend. Bertolt settled right next to you, taking the glass in his hand and drinking up the entire thing in one go, some liquid spilling out of the corner of his lips. He quickly wiped it up with his thumb, his tongue peeking out and licking the remnants away. His cold green eyes glanced down at you suddenly, catching you staring at him.

A flush of heat went through your skin, quickly looking away to stare into your partially-full glass. The drinks kept on coming, the haze of alcohol filling everyone's systems. You were the least intoxicated, slowly taking in the new attitudes and information from your drunk companions. It wasn't much but they became more chatty, opening up about their lives before Paradis.

"I joined because of my mother." Reiner moved his glass towards the bartender, his head leaned up against his arm as he watched the brown liquid fill up his cup.

"Oh yeah?" He nodded, taking a sip from the newly refilled glass before speaking once more.

"She had high hopes that our family would've been whole again. Me, her, and my father. He's, uh—" He cleared his throat, turning his attention towards you. A faint dust of pink rested on his cheeks, a cheeky smile growing. "He's a Marley-blooded man, so y'know... I'm not really supposed to..."

"Exist." You muttered as you finished his sentence and he let out a soft laugh, nodding lightly before downing his drink again.

"Harsh, but more or less, you could say that's it. Compared to me though," The black-haired man closed his eyes, huffing softly. "Bertolt here is more tragic."

Curious but puzzled, you turned your attention towards him, his hand running through his gelled locks and he mumbled something under his breath before taking a shot. You did wonder a bit about how this man turned out to be the worst attacker on Paradis Island's humanity, it felt sickening thinking about a sweet little boy being trained into a horrid monster.

"You know I hate talking about it Reiner." The blond snorted, turning on his chair and leaning back on the bar's counter.

"C'mon. Let her in on your situation, after all—" He stood up, walking over to him and placing his hand over his shoulder, leaning in close to his ear that you almost barely caught what he said.

"You owe her that much."

Reiner made his way to the bathroom, leaving the two of you alone once more together. The thought of trying to decipher what he meant flew past your inebriated mind and so you sat in silence, instead thinking that you might as well make your way home now. It was probably already past midnight, and you were sure that you were waking up late with a massive headache. As you finalized your decision, turning in your stool and towards the door without a goodbye, the thump of glass hitting wood snapped you out of it.

"I was raised only by my dad." Bertolt started and you slowly turned back towards the counter, your full attention on him.

"Don't know what happened to my mom, he never really told me and I was never curious enough to ask. It was just the two of us for as long as I knew but even as a kid that could barely read, I knew that he wasn't... okay." His fists clenched together and you could hear the cracks of his joints from how tightly he was gripping.

"When you're born an Eldian and live in the farthest parts of the internment camps, medicine is hard to get by and treatment is even more difficult to obtain. The minute I became eligible to join, I took the opportunity." You don't know what compelled you in the moment, but you placed a hand on one of his fists. He started relaxing once he realized that you were touching him, still stiff as he reminisced further.

"Did they give him the meds?" Bertolt nodded, taking in a shallow breath.

"A few days right after I inherited the Colossal, they started giving him everything they promised and he was getting better day by day. It wasn't until I left for our mission in Paradis that his condition evolved into something worse." You swallowed nervously, slipping your fingers into his and holding his massive hand gently. His head turned towards you, his eyes soft as he looked into your gaze.

You've never seen or heard him be so vulnerable before, guilt forming in the pit of your stomach. For him, he was fighting a one-sided war against your home, all because he wanted to take care of his dad. Yet in return, he caused the displacement of so many from their families, ripping them apart with a few kicks into the walls.

"When Zeke came on Paradis and we finally met up, I asked him about my dad and he told me that despite all the medicine and treatment that he's been getting, he wasn't getting any better. I had to see him again, no matter if I had failed the original mission or not. I couldn't die on that island without being able to see him again and I just barely made it. Sometimes the way we escaped made me wonder how I even made it out of there. It was only for a few months that I got to spend with him once we came back, but he passed away in his sleep last month."

His hand tightened around yours, though not enough to break it. No wonder he started to look more disheveled and exhausted recently, his whole reason for getting where he is was now gone. You pitied him but that didn't excuse the murders of thousands he did in your homeland. At the same time, it didn't mean that you should bring that major fact up, not when he was currently grieving.

"I'm sorry Bertolt."

"It's alright, you don't have to pity me. I have more to be sorry about towards you and the others. I'll never be able to properly make it up, nothing I'll ever do will be enough to wash away the blood on my hands."

The two of you sat there in silence, a warm hand around one cold hand. You really should leave now, before Reiner comes back and you'll be stuck drinking even more than you wanted to. You attempted to finally slide off the wooden seat, but he clenched your hand gently and tugged you towards him instead. Your eyes fluttered in both confusion and tiredness as you stood in front of his sitting frame. Blinking once, his face appeared right in front of yours. His free hand slid behind and rested against the nape of your neck, feeling thin but calloused fingertips tenderly brush against the skin as he pulled you even closer.

Okay... this was getting a little too weird for your liking. Beginning to open your mouth to verbalize your annoyance and trying to move back, he then took the opportunity to press his lips against yours.

You could taste the alcohol that the three of you had been previously been consuming intertwine with the tobacco's bitterness of the cigarettes he used, a vagueness of something sweet brushing up against your tongue as he tried to coax you into returning the action. His stubble was rough against your skin the more he moved, digging deeper as he pressed further into your mouth.

You had half the mind to bite that damn muscle of his, but the warmth of both the alcohol and him was stupefying, hypnotizing. It felt like you were melting against him, a warmth pooling in your stomach and in-between your thighs. Slowly, you convinced yourself to return the kiss, gravitating into his embrace. It was stupid of you to do considering you hate the guy but hey, who doesn't do stupid shit every now and then? Fuck, you even started wrapping your arms around his neck and shoulders.

There wasn't much people in the bar anyways, either too drunk off their minds to care or simply ignoring the disgusting couple intertwining themselves in the public space. The bartender was off chatting with another patron, most likely used to the sight of a couple making their passion uncomfortably known to others. It's the Colossal Titan user, who on Marley dared tried to say something about it?

The hand that once was holding yours, grabbed at the crook of your back to draw you even more impossibly near him, then sliding down towards the curve of your ass. To your utmost surprise, he clutched and squeezed at the flesh firmly, feeling you up with this sudden confidence that you would never thought of him having before.

"Annie."

Sobriety hit you like a cold bucket of water splashing onto you once you heard her name slip through his swollen lips, taking no time to immediately shove the man right off of you. He just told you his story, that his dad had just died last month, and here he was, kissing and groping you and then suddenly calling out Annie's name. You were breathing hard, eyes wide as saucers as you stared down at him in shock.

"What the fuck? What the fuck!?"

Bertolt's hand reached out to you, as if he was trying to make you lift him back up. You've never felt so nauseated to hear those very words come out of his lips as a valid apology, like it was no big deal.

"I love you."

You ran.

You ran out of the bar, into the blackened sea of night, never once looking back. If you did, you were afraid of what you might see in his eyes or if he was chasing after you. With tears lingering in the corners of your eyes, one single thought remained.

Out of everyone in the squadron, why did it have to be him?

‘•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’

For a month and a half the day after what happened, you never saw Bertolt in the office or around the internment zone.

It was probably the first time him and Reiner were ever separated for this long, the blond telling you that it was his own decision to be sent off into the battlefield alone. You wondered if he told him what he did to you after he came back from the bathroom, or excused why he was on the floor and why you were gone. Reiner never said anything about the incident, so it soon faded in the back of your mind into obscurity.

He wasn't your first kiss anyways, some now-dead nobody trainee back in the day was, and the two of you were drunk, stupid shit happens. Part of you also somewhat knew about Bertolt's fondness for the Female Titan user, originally not knowing about how close they were previously, but damn it. For a heated moment to be ruined like that left a sour taste in your mouth, and you couldn't help but hate him even more for it.

"He's back."

"Who?" Reiner's fist came down on the top of your head playfully, catching your attention from the paperwork.

"Y'know who. Better talk to him now before he passes out from exhaustion from the looks of it. Also, because I know you miss him~" He teased and you swatted his fist off of you, watching him as he walked off towards the main room laughing, leaving you with a pit in your stomach. You really didn't want to talk to him, even if a month had passed on by, but legally, he was your superior. Professionalism before personal feelings unfortunately.

You finally got up, walking slowly to the destination before taking in a deep breath and entering the medical unit. Bertolt was near an open window, a lit cigarette lazily nestled in-between his fingers as he stared out of it. He was the only person there and you swore that every time you saw him, he started to look more unrecognizable from his previous cadet days. His hair wasn't slicked back anymore, falling at the front of his eyes; in fact, you thought it might've grown out a little more from the last time you saw him. The Titan marks were still prominent on his face, like he had just transformed not long ago.

Wiping your clammy hands on your puffy uniform, you approached him, pulling up a chair nearby the bed and sitting down stiffly.

"Welcome back sir."

His head turned towards you and you swore that you felt the room grow colder as he gazed into you through the black strands of his messy hair. Maybe you were the only one that noticed, but his eyes were dead, hollow but still held some sharpness in those pale green irises. This was no longer the Bertolt you knew, this was a numbed man that got mentally thrown and torn apart in the arms of the constant war, the constant transforming, and the constant murder of many.

"Hit me."

"E-excuse me?" He must’ve gotten faster because you didn't realize how quickly he grabbed you until he pushed the palm against his healing skin. It was burning to the touch, as if you were right next to a blazing bonfire. Instinctively, you started to try and wiggle out of his grip but he held steady.

"Hit. Me." Bertolt's grip grew stronger around your wrist, fear creeping in through every cell in your body as you watched the surrounding skin pale from how hard he was holding. "That's an order."

You swallowed but nodded quickly in agreement, just so he can let go of you before any bones shatter. He immediately released you straight away, the action as fast as he previously took ahold of you and took a hit of the nearly burnt out stick. You had to hype yourself up for it, thinking back on every rotten memory you’ve had with him, balling up your fist and striking him as hard as possible where he originally placed your hand. The force made his head swing the other way, the cigarette butt dropping on the ground as your knuckles throbbed in agony. It was like directly punching a stony wall, not like the previous time you punched him on the boat to Marley.

You let go of the breath you didn’t even know you were holding, straightening back up as you held onto your wounded hand. "And how do you feel, Bertolt?"

Bertolt’s body didn’t move, but his hand began to slowly trailing up to the injury, pressing his fingers against the forming bruise. You flinched as he pushed his hair back to where you could finally see his eyes, exhaling the smoke that he previously took in through his nostrils. He glanced over in your direction and let out a soft chuckle, although you noticed that it didn't quite reach those dull eyes of his. There was one thought that lingered in your mind as you stared back into his gaze, that he must've gone crazy fighting in the frontlines.

"Good hit, make me bleed next time." ...What? "Though, I'm surprised that you decided to visit after... what we did the last time we saw each other."

Recovering quickly from trying to process what he just said at first, you cleared your throat, crossing your arms. "The Vice Captain requested me to visit his right hand man, who am I to refuse his wishes?"

He simply hummed in response, reaching for another cigarette in his pocket and his lighter. Placing the unlit stick at the side of his mouth, his eyes caught yours once more, a slight smirk forming. "When'd you start talking like the soldiers? You forget the years we've spent together already since I've been gone, or did you finally get in trouble for treating us like equals?"

You scoffed, pulling your lips in a thin line. "You're the one that gave me an order earlier, and I've had a recent revelation that I had to start acting like a subordinate rather your friend or buddy or whatever the fuck we are, so yeah, I guess it's the latter."

"Ahh, better watch your language then or I'll have to report you for profanity against a superior." Bertolt was of course joking, the mocking tone intertwining with his words. As you felt your eyebrow twitch in annoyance, the sound of lighter clicked and ignited, your eyes watching him pull the flame near.

"Y'know..." He started as he took in a drag, leaning his head back towards the ceiling and soon exhaling the smoke out slowly. "I've been thinking about you the entire time I was gone."

A heaviness plopped itself back on your shoulders, and you wanted nothing more but to excuse yourself out of his premises. You were about to say something to leave him alone, but he kept on talking, droning on and on about how he was counting down the days when he could finally see your face again. Bertolt mentioned that you were the only reason he kept on fighting, why he kept on killing so his commanders could see that he was doing such a swell job as their loyal Titan holder and let him leave early. What a horrible ideology, most of those people could've been innocents.

"And another thing, I kept thinking back on the kiss we shared that month ago." All the color drained from your face, turning and taking a step back to try and run, but felt his hand grasp onto the fabric right against your back. His voice had the same disdainfulness as before, a demandingness that you didn't even know he had in himself to project.

"Don't leave and turn back around. That is an order."

You grit your teeth, finally turning back around once he let go of your uniform and find him standing, his tall stature hovering over you. Nervousness crawled up your spine, flinching once you felt his cold fingers reach over to caress your jaw, tilting your head up to look at him. His eyes scanned your face, inspecting your features quietly before taking another drag of his cigarette. He then neared your face and press his lips against yours.

Recoiling at the abrupt kiss, you tried to push him away but the grip on your face was painfully tight, almost akin to the hold on your wrist earlier. You could do nothing but endure this assault, a slight whimper slipping out as the soreness of your face grew.

Bertolt's tongue brushed against your lips, trying to coax you into opening them. You might as well obey, just to get this over with and the fact that you were running out of oxygen at an alarming rate. Once you did, he pushed the smoke in your mouth as he deepened the kiss, the burn in your lungs and in your throat getting worse. In a panic, you bit down as hard as possible to free yourself, the taste of iron combining with the bitter nicotine. You quickly doubled over and started coughing, watching in tears as vague smoke came out of your mouth with every heave and breath.

"Ah." You peered up at Bertolt from within your teary vision, the tips of his fingers on his lips and pressing against the wound you inflicted. It was deep from what you're able to see, but already started to heal itself. Yet, that's not what at all made you run out the room in distress, almost vomiting into the bushes once you stepped foot out of the building.

You watched in mortified horror as he smeared the crimson around his lips and chin, a seemingly euphoric and satisfied expression reflecting on those pale green eyes of his. He looked down at your frozen form, crouching down and reaching over to your face with his bloodied fingers. A small whimper slipped out as he smeared the substance on your mouth, a hungry grin forming.

"Isn't this a beautiful sight? My blood on your lips, I wonder if I can make you bleed for me soon." It felt like he wasn't supposed to say it aloud, but maybe he wanted you to hear, to have a taste of what his true self was like. That thought alone made you run out, leaving him on the ground once again.

This time, you had to make sure you'd never see the sick fuck ever again.

‘•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’

And this brings you back to the beginning, in Reiner's home completely agitated and frightened for your life.

The past few months, Bertolt resumed his normal duties along Reiner and you; although you limited your interactions with one another, you can’t help but notice that he was following you everywhere. Not just at work, but the times where you were on your breaks, going out to eat, shopping for groceries or clothes, even in your own home; you saw him. You barely caught him sometimes, he'd disappear in a blink once you tried to get in a second glance to confirm who you saw.

He lingered behind corners, staring at you with such a frightening glimmer in those dull eyes of his. He was usually expressionless as he stared into your very soul, not a single crooked smile or the usual slight upwards curve of his eyes. Nothing, absolutely nothing. And the strangest part was that he never said a word, just... stared. Sometimes he just stood there right in the public's view, crowds of people passing besides him without a single glance towards the weirdo in their way.

There was nothing you could do about it, he wasn't technically bothering anyone and due to the internment zone being rather small, they already knew that he was associated with you. How unfair it was. You wished you could live like them, ignorant and dismissive of the monster that stood right next to them.

Him being right outside of your window was your final straw, the lamplight just barely highlighting his features as he stood in your backyard. You screamed and backed up into your dining room table once you realized that he was right against your window, pressing his hand against the glass as his breath began to fog it up. His eyes were crazed, the first time you ever saw anything in them after weeks of ignoring him. You flung the drapes over the window — as if it could do anything to protect you — before running upstairs and hiding in your closet for the rest of the night.

If he was able to sneak up on you, to be that close without you noticing… what else has he done?

"He's being a fucking creep, Reiner. If it's not him trying to figure out that I'm some kind of double-crosser, it's him being some kind of perverted stalker." He snorted at your remark and you could tell that he was not entirely convinced. You took in a shaky breath, finally putting down your foot.

"Then I would like to request that I leave the Warriors unit and work somewhere else. I don't care where and if I have to move, all I want is to never see Bertolt ever again." Reiner's expression suddenly hardened and he pushed himself off the wall, leaning on the table opposite of you. You've never seen him quite as serious until now, unease filling your stomach.

"You do realize that we cannot protect you once you leave the unit, right? The only reason you're alive still is because of us, Y/N. Anywhere else in the other units, the generals and commanders will watch you like hawks for any mistake you make, minor or not. They would use any excuse to have your head." His hand rested on your shoulder and squeezed it firmly, checking his surroundings before leaning close into your ear.

"Look. I know about Bertolt's strange behavior, trust me, I've already noticed he's been off ever since he came back from that recent excursion. I don't know if I can convince him to stop doing this to you, but I mean it when I say that you're better off staying in our unit." He then leaned back and lightly smiled for more reassurance; a part of you felt that it was the scout in him that was talking and that made you feel a little better.

"We're all you got in this world and your best chance for living. C'mon, just give him one more shot." This wouldn't be happening in the first place if you left me back in Paradis, you thought bitterly but hesitantly nodded your head.

"Okay, fine. But you better get it in his head that I don’t want him stalking me anymore or I’ll report him to General Magath and leave the unit, no matter what the consequences are." You got up and headed towards the exit, turning your head to see him slowly push in your seat. He noticed that you didn't leave yet and lifted his hand up, almost waving goodbye.

"No promises," Reiner held up his pinky, slightly wiggling it. "But I'll do my best."

You scoffed, but smiled regardless.

"Then whatever happens, it'll be on you."

The next day continued on as usual, something normal for once as both Reiner and Bertolt weren't in today. You thought that they must've gotten deployed to another war since you hadn't seen any of the other Warriors either, but you continued work as usual for your shift. Even if you weren't required to, you might as well lighten the load for you the next time around.

By the time you were done with half of the stack, you finally called it quits, seeing that the sun had began to slowly set behind the towering buildings right outside of the windows. Clocking out, you slung your satchel over your shoulder and pushed past the doors, quietly walking back to your home. Now that you started to think further during your trek, it's strange that you didn't get any notification from Reiner about their sudden leave. He'd always gave you some kind of heads-up even if you didn't ask, either through a note or in person.

Was this something so serious that not even you can know about? That would make more sense, you're technically just an underling to them, you didn't need to know more confidential information from the Marleyans as a Paradisian; not like you wanted it or had any use for it anyways. The orange glow of the sun began to fade, the sky slowly turning darker by the minute as lamplights started to flicker on right on cue.

You were so close to home that you started to pick up the pace, a feeling of anticipation running through you. It's not like you felt scared, no. This was the first time in days that you finally felt like you didn't have to look over your shoulder, the first time in months where you didn't feel like you were being watched.

In a matter of minutes, you finally reached the front door of your home. You rummaged through your bag for the keys, taking your time as you pushed through the unfortunately crowded mess. There was no need to rush anymore, not until they come back, and hopefully Reiner was able to talk Bertolt out of his abhorrent, unprofessional behavior. Letting out a happy hum as you finally found what you were looking for, you pushed in the key and turned it open, only to be greeted with a gut feeling that caused goosebumps to immediately form on your skin.

Something was wrong. Despite everything being in their right and respective places, there was something... off. Standing still at the entrance way, you scanned the environment slowly, a lump forming in your throat as they darted to-and-fro nervously. The windows were locked, you knew they were, and none of the drapes seemed to be moved or altered from their original places. There was only one entrance and to get to the backyard, you would have to take the side fence door at the outside of the resident. You almost were tempted to back out of your own house, the one place where you've considered as the safest haven from the outside. This feeling, it had to just be that you were unused to being finally left alone... right?

You finally took a step inwards, the wood creaking underneath your boot. Mentally, it felt like excruciatingly long hours had just passed by for you to get another step, internally praying that your mind won't play tricks on you from the various sounds that were occurring in the considerably old home. There's nothing or no one here, you're just being a paranoid baby.

Exhaling slowly, you finally shut and locked the front door behind you. Repeating the phrase over and over gave you confidence to continue forwards, determination in your eyes. You'd be damned if Bertolt thinks he could scare you out of your own home, you'd rather go to prison than try to stay at his home for temporary shelter.

You lost your appetite to prepare a simple dinner, now knowing that you'd prefer not to try cooking something when you've just arrived in fear for your life. However, you carefully made your way towards the kitchen, grabbing a knife out of the wooden block. The sound of the metal sliding out of its sheath may have been the loudest thing you've been currently hearing. You gripped onto the handle tightly, turning towards the stairs.

You knew you weren't alone here, the house may settle now and then, but this felt different. This was different. No matter what your brain was telling you, your gut was telling you otherwise.

Crrreeeaaakkkk...

You froze, feeling suddenly out of breath as you stared at the ceiling with wide eyes. The sound came from your room, there was no doubt about it. A memory of Bertolt trying to secretly make breakfast for you flashed into view, the sounds of pans clashing below waking you up. You should've questioned how he gotten in the house in the first place during the earlier stages of this thing of his, but you were far too hungry and tired to even notice until now.

In meticulous steps, you made your way to the staircase, trying to make sure you didn't step on the wrong board and alert the intruder of your presence. Hell, he might've already known since you unlocked the door. The hallway never felt longer than it was before as you approached the room, the moonlight shining down on you and the weapon held in your dominant hand. There was more creaking the more you came towards the door, your heart pounding in your chest in the rhythm of a thousand Abnormals sprinting towards their next delectable meal.

The door was slightly ajar, alarms ringing in your head. You never have left the doors in your room open in your life, especially when sleeping and even when you left the premises. Someone is in there and you know who it is. Taking in a deep breath, you leaned in gradually towards the crack in the door, trying to control the trembling in your hands as you peeked through.

The stench of blood first hit your nose, then the sight within nearly made you scream in horror. Bertolt was in your room, sitting on the middle edge of your bed, all bloodied from head-to-toe what you were able to tell from the street's lamps dully illuminating the surrounding room. Though that was stomach-churning in itself, the action he was performing on your bed made everything even more heinously depraved.

The bastard was fucking his fist with your panties wrapped around his cock, his pelvis erratically jutting into the tight hold he put around it. His lips were slightly parted, almost barely audible groans slipping out with every stroke. Even worse, you could hear just the cusp of your name with it, your own face growing warm.

You had to report this to General Magath, now. Burn your bed and used underwear once you got the chance to second on the list. Reiner failed, maybe even never went up to him, and now you had to take the drastic way out of this. He finally took things way too far; if not your underwear, it might’ve been you.

You took a step backwards, immediately paling as the floorboard behind you squeaked loudly under the weight. The movement from within your room paused abruptly, anxiety and dread crawling up your veins with every passing moment. The sound of the bed springs being relieved of any weight on them immediately alerted you that you needed to start running or hide until he leaves. It was too late, the door opening with a grinding, crackling noise.

"Welcome home, Y/N."

Bertolt lunged at you, instincts kicking in as you swung the knife, aiming for his throat. You knew it wouldn’t kill him, you’ve seen Mikasa do it years ago and he healed without any trace of the injury left, but it would give you enough time to get to Magath’s residence. At least, that’s what you tried to do, but he moved last minute, the blade only digging into the side of his face towards his mouth.

He was stunned by it at first, a nauseating feeling permeating within your stomach as you watched the skin and muscle separate as he opened his mouth, blood streaming down his jawline in thick streams. Then he started chuckling, pressing his hand against the wound roughly and almost pulling it apart. This was no time to stay shocked however. You took this final opportunity to run, carefully trying not to cut yourself as you made your way down the stairs.

"Y/N!!!" Oh god, oh god, oh god. You reached the entrance, turning the lock and pulling it open, the cold air of the night blasting in your face. Freedom was right there in your grasp — just right there — before a thickly drenched hand from behind grabbed ahold of you from the mouth and pulled you back inside.

You couldn’t scream as his bloodied palm held firmly down onto your mouth, tears streaming down your face as he lodged himself right between your legs. He was crazed, his pupils dilated with excitement as he stared down at your quivering form. You could the hardness straining against your uniform pants, a sob stuck in your throat. The inflicted wound on his face was obviously starting to heal, steam coming off of it.

"Good try, too bad you aren’t strong enough to even try to finish the job." He took the knife out of your hold, his blood still staining the edges. Bertolt neared it towards your throat, your body fighting back as it approached closer and closer.

"Hey, you’re gonna hurt yourself if you keep moving like that." He scolded, as if he wasn’t the one with the weapon, the cold blade right against your jugular. You froze on cue, taking in sharp breaths with your nose to try and not to panic even more.

"You weren’t meant to see me uh—" His face flushed pink, scratching his uninjured cheek with his pointer bashfully. This bitch was acting like he didn’t just break in your home, committed a perverse act on your bed, and about cut your throat open. Bertolt slightly adjusted himself, rubbing his still-hard cock against you. "But it was pretty exciting, how long were you watching? Did you get excited?"

You wanted to shake your head, only flinching as you felt him unbuckle the belt, nimble fingers unbuttoning and zipping down your pants. You had no choice but to feel him slip his dirtied hand into your underwear, his fingertips pressing against your hole. A proud smile grew on his face, a vast contrast to your horrified expression as the two of you made the same realization. You’re wet.

Bertolt pulled the knife away from your neck, short relief coming out of you in waves, but he didn’t drop it or throw it aside. No. He used it to tear your uniform shirt open, a muffled yelp escaping you as the cool air made contact with your bare skin.

"We’re going to have some fun together, okay?" You felt like throwing up in his hand, hoping that you’d asphyxiate from it. Your heart stopped as you realized that he was nearing the tip of the blade on your lower stomach, right below your belly button.

"Right after I carve my name into you."

[n1ght0f-nyx]

Phantom's Adoration

erik deslter x reader- 538 words

tags- kinda angst mostly fluff, stalking, low-key submissive erik (even though this isn't smut) cause thats the truth :) canon true stalking/yandere themes

In the grand opera house of Paris, shadows danced and whispered secrets of love and tragedy. Among them lurked Erik Destler, the Phantom of the Opera, a figure veiled in darkness and mystery. From the depths of his hidden lair, he watched the world above with a heart heavy with longing, knowing that his disfigured face would forever keep him hidden from the light.

Yet amidst the bustling theater, there was one soul who captured his attention like no other – you. You, with your graceful movements and enchanting voice, seemed to float through the corridors like a melody, filling his solitary existence with warmth and light.

From the shadows, Erik watched you rehearse, your every step and note igniting a fire within him. He listened to the passion in your voice, feeling his own heart swell with a love he knew could never be. For how could someone as wondrous as you ever look upon him with anything but fear and disgust?

But still, he couldn't help but dream. Dream of a world where he could stand beside you in the brilliance of the stage, where he could hold you close and whisper his love into the night. In his mind, he spun tales of romance and redemption, where even the darkest of souls could find solace in the arms of an angel.

Yet reality was a cruel mistress, and Erik knew that his fantasies could never come to pass. So he remained hidden, content to watch from afar, knowing that the shadows were his only refuge.

As the days turned into weeks, Erik's love for you only grew stronger, his every thought consumed by the image of your radiant smile. He longed to reach out to you, to confess the depths of his affection, but he feared the rejection that would surely follow.

And so he remained silent, resigned to his fate as the Phantom of the Opera, forever condemned to love from the shadows.

But fate, it seemed, had other plans.

One fateful night, as the opera house lay shrouded in darkness, you wandered into Erik's domain, a curious light in your eyes. Startled, he watched as you explored the cavernous halls, your laughter echoing off the stone walls.

In that moment, Erik knew that he could no longer hide. Stepping out from the shadows, he revealed himself to you, his heart pounding with fear and anticipation.

You gasped at the sight of him, but to his surprise, there was no trace of fear in your eyes, only curiosity and perhaps a hint of something more.

"I have watched you from afar, my dear," he whispered, his voice barely more than a breath. "And though I am but a man in truth, i can assure you my love for you burns brighter than any angels could."

Tears welled in his eyes as i reached out to him, my fingers trembling as they brushed against his teary cheek.

"you're...," i started softly, my voice a gentle melody in the darkness. "You’re…my angel of music?"

In that moment, Erik knew that his love for you was not in vain. For even in the darkest of places, there exists a glimmer of hope – a chance for redemption, you. 

[aureum-cordis]

Lost & Found, Part 5

A/N: Midterms rolled around and took me out of the fringe for a bit, but I’m back! It’s amazing how much attention Lost & Found has received, thank you all so much! I really do appreciate the follows, likes, and reblogs! I do have a CatNap story and a story with Kissy Missy and Poppy in the works too! If you’re interested in being added to my taglist for Lost & Found or any other potential stories I plan on writing, feel free to let me know! Check out the other parts here: Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4

_________________________________________________

It wasn’t very long until the other Smiling Critters had followed your lead and fell asleep, the leader being the only one to remain awake. He was relaxed, feeling the warmth from the others as they leaned against him and listened to the soft snores that left you as you slept. He couldn’t remember a time when he had seen the bear or the unicorn as tranquil as they were in this moment.

Despite the positivity in the room they sought refuge in, there was danger lurking within the building. DogDay had studied the routes that CatNap patrolled, his rounds being mostly consistent to the point that he was able to notice a pattern and decide where they would shelter accordingly. His sense of time may have been poor, but his sense of smell was what he relied on in moments like this. They had time, not forever, but enough for the others to get some rest.

His gaze fell down to your small body, still resting in his lap and clinging to his arm like a lifeline. He was careful to not move suddenly to keep from disturbing any of those that laid against him, but a small sigh left him as he looked down at your malnourished form. Food was a scarcity as is in this place, something they had witnessed firsthand.

PickyPiggy had been one of the first to be driven mad by hunger, lashing out at the others in a frenzied state. As horrible as it was, DogDay couldn’t have faulted her for it. It was out of her control, the hunger was something vile and demented that warped any rational thoughts, instincts of neither that of a human nor an animal took over in those moments.

He closed his eyes in an instant, trying to rid himself of those memories and the bloodied outcome that followed. When he opened them, he looked down at you, forcing his mind to return to what he had originally been thinking of before his thoughts took a dark path of their own. It was a miracle you hadn’t starved or expired from a lack of water, something that DogDay was greatly concerned by.

You shouldn’t be alive, not for as long as you must’ve been in the building. But you were, something that he couldn't understand but he refused to question it, he knew better than that. He would accept what was given to him without hesitation, when it meant that what he was being given was you.

This decrepit orphanage was never a home, not for you or any of the children. Those that ran it treated the youth as nothing more than lab rats, willing to run more than a few tests on something other than themselves. The thought alone was enough to cause his hackles to raise of their own accord, a growl threatening to leave his perpetually smiling mouth with enough hostility to make anything with sense cower.

Yet, he stopped himself before a sound even escaped him, noticing the way CraftyCorn shifted slightly as they rested against him in her unconscious state. It was grounding, even if unintentional, and assisted in causing his anger to lessen.

Instead, he turned his gaze to you as he listened to your ragged breathing. His softening gaze traced your small form, finally noticing the bruises that you had upon your arms and legs. Some were near the point of fading as shown by their green and brown coloration, while others were a glaring hue of purple.

There was no telling what you had been forced to endure at the hands of men and women that viewed you as nothing more than a test subject. Some part of him was grateful that you weren’t like them, an abomination or organic and inorganic matter strewn together like a poorly made automaton. He hated what they had all become, but not who they were. That was a thought that never crossed his mind.

As surprising as it was, he didn’t even hate CatNap. Not really, not when he knew that he was just a child following the guidance of what he deemed as a friend. He was misguided and demanded others to follow The Prototype as if his word was law, dispatching those that dared to oppose his deity. DogDay wished that this had never happened to any of them, but sorrow and hypothetical situations were pointless now.

The orange dog was optimistic but he also knew that he needed to be realistic. This wasn’t some cartoon that would have a happy ending, where friendship prevailed. This was a dark and demented tale that would end poorly for one, if not all of those involved in it.

A small sigh left him at the negative swarm of thoughts that plagued him like pests as he remained awake, feeling Bobby BearHug nuzzled her head into the crook of his neck as she slept. He was still for several moments afterward, not wanting to risk waking her. Her breathing settled back down into a slow and steady rhythm, which he was relieved to hear.

In moments like this, he was grateful for the company he had. Even though only three, four in reality, of the Smiling Critters remained and you had joined the bunch, he was still thankful. There hadn’t been time to properly mourn any of those that they had lost, not when they constantly needed to remain on the move and the threat of running into CatNap was high.

There was no true soil to bury any bodies, everything in the Playcare was synthetic to some extent. Aside from the buildings, those were made of true materials. The lights were artificial, even the span of day and night was a projection or perhaps a rotating dome. He didn’t know, he hadn’t ever asked to find out and he doubted that he would get a true answer if he had.

There were plenty of workers that were once in the same situation that they now found themselves in. Trapped, unable to break free from this hellish place of bright colors that hid the horror of what happened underground. Truthfully, he understood CatNap’s desire to latch onto a savior and obey their every word, hoping to be led out from this bleak wasteland of shattered dreams and broken souls. It was a childlike hope, but it was one he understood.

They had nearly lost that hope themselves. As their numbers dwindled, Smiling Critters picked off as if they were nothing more than prey animals, he saw the change in those that remained. Especially because he was unable to do anything about it. He couldn’t bring those back that they’d lost nor could he shake the sound of their screams.

DogDay felt powerless in this situation, even if he tried his best to keep from showing that to the others. He was meant to be the leader, but he felt as if he were restrained. As if the only thing he could do was peer out through the metaphorical bars that stood for his guilt and shame. It felt as though something was tearing him apart from the inside every time he dared to think of the others.

But then, he found you. And that had changed everything. You brought back a side of him that he had all but thought he’d lost. Even with as small as you were, you managed to instill hope in CraftyCorn and Bobby BearHug. He could see it in the way they came alive as soon as you entered the room.

It was obvious even now, as you rested in the center of the trio of remaining Smiling Critters. Even as you slept alongside the other two, it was a clear sign that you would be protected. DogDay would make sure of that and he was more than sure that the unicorn and bear at his side would as well.

You were more than just a child that they had taken in. You stood for far more than that, something you would never be able to comprehend at such a young age. The dog knew that you had never had a true family before, it was obvious. Normal children didn’t have scars along their arms from injections nor were they as pale as you were from living under artificial lights for the short amount of time you’d been alive.

They were certainly no replacement for true parents, as unorthodox as they were. But you would be loved, they would provide that along with as much stability as they could. The leader of the Smiling Critters already felt as much and he was almost certain that the feeling was shared amongst those that remained.

He knew that they needed to be wary of how long they stayed in one place. But it wasn’t a dire need to move at this moment in time, CatNap’s patrols were like clockwork and they all knew that it would be a short while before he made his rounds to this wing of the building. DogDay looked down at you one final time as your grip tightened on his arm, before he rested his head against the red bear’s and allowed his eyes to close if for only a few moments.

_________________________________________________

Taglist: @star-the-rabid-dog @urminebutidontwantyou

[littlejuicebox]

Heya!

I’ve been lurking for a while and had this idea rattling around in my brain - how do you think Astarion would be around a sweet & unassuming Tav but he can tell they’re FILTHY in bed, maybe flirting via tadpole?

Love your writing, hope you’re doing well

- 🌹

Tattoo

This ask has been sitting in my inbox for quite a while, unsure if anon will still see it! This mostly answers the prompt, I think. Perhaps a small detour lol.

Summary: Astarion thought you were an innocent, blushing virgin that night in the clearing. He misjudged you. And now you’re all he can think about.

Tags: smut, 18+, masturbation, tadpole fliritng, mentions of oral

Word Count: 1K

-----

It wasn’t until that night in the moonlit clearing when Astarion realized you had a tattoo. But of course, he wouldn’t have had the opportunity to see your enticing bit of body art any other way.

His original intent had been to use his skills that evening in an effort to repay you for the regular feedings. His unique way of rebalancing the scales, as it were. But now that little tattoo, just below the curve of your hip, in the dip where your thigh meets your — surprisingly delicious — mound is all he can think about.

Astarion’s delved his hand in his pants more than once this week thinking about that vision alone. He hasn’t felt the urge to touch himself in decades, but the memory of that dainty bit of ink constantly taunts him throughout the day, stirring a desire he hadn’t known in ages.

He knows it’s ridiculous – it’s just a bit of ink, for god's sake – and yet, tonight he felt compelled to seek relief by wrapping his own pale hand around his cock and rubbing himself ragged once again. And now he’s sprawled in his tent, the remains of his spend still splattered over his abdomen, and his mind is starting to wander back to that night.

He’d seen tattoos on others, of course. In almost any place imaginable. Most of them were horribly done.

But you? Well, you’d certainly caught him by surprise.

You’d seemed the picture of innocence, made up almost entirely of wide, doe eyes and gullibility. Before his proposition, he’d been almost positive you were a blushing virgin. An easy target.

But to have a tattoo in such a salacious location? And then to have your hot, sinful mouth wrapped around his cock, worshiping it with your tongue, as if you’d never tasted anything better? All with those big doe eyes watching his every move and clearly delighted by his own pleasure?

He hasn’t had an experience quite like that for as long as he can remember.

And, well, looks could certainly be deceiving, couldn’t they?

The taste of your blood as he sunk his sharp fangs into your soft flesh while you’d found release had been intoxicating. Part of him wants to experience it again; the other part knows – and desires to avoid – what he will have to do to achieve that particular flavor.

At this point, Astarion isn’t quite sure if he wants to proposition you again or not. Sure, the first time was satisfactory. Perhaps even a bit enjoyable. But still—

Suddenly, the rogue feels a tugging on the edge of his mind, ripping him from his musings. He recognizes this sensation, it’s a tadpole mind link. But something about this is… different. It isn’t accidental, it’s intentional. Someone in camp is reaching out to him.

Curiosity killed the cat.

Good thing he’s immortal.

Against his better judgment, Astarion opens his mind to the call. And there you are, waiting for him.

"I'm surprised you’re still awake,’ You say, and the silver-haired elf is shocked to hear your voice as if you’re right next to him. Interesting.

‘How did you realize we could do this?’ Astarion asks, and he hears your entertained laughter tinkle in the background of his psyche in response.

‘Shadowheart and I figured it out sometime last week. We’ve only used it to talk shit about everyone thus far.’ You reply, clearly proud of your discovery and thrilled by your own behavior.

‘Everyone?’ The rogue asks, not pleased about being the topic of you and your apparent best friend’s judgment.

‘Almost everyone,’ You amend, and there’s a brief flicker of affection in your psyche towards Astarion that you’re certain he notices before you quickly stomp it down.

You feel a ripple of Astarion’s own satisfaction at your amendment. He’s glad to not be the topic of your more unkind thoughts.

‘What are you still doing awake, darling?’ The vampire questions, ‘You are normally the first one snoring.’

There is the smallest wave of offense, and then a resigned acknowledgement at the truth in his statement. A pause of the mental conversation ensues as you seem to carefully weigh your next thoughts and move around in your tent.

‘I can’t sleep. Too much excitement today, I think. Too much pent up energy,’ You start, and then flash a vision through your own eyes, showing Astarion as you look down at your own barren mound, ‘Care to come and help me… release some of the tension?’

Astarion can see the tattoo through your eyes, greeting him in a sensual hello as you drag your fingers down it, on the way to touch yourself. Gods damn it.

He wants to take you up on your offer, but then he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t know what he wants. So instead he dances around the topic, avoiding an answer, with a flirtatious admission of his own.

‘I’m afraid I have taken care of my own needs for the night,’ He replies, flashing you the quickest view of milky white liquid now beginning to dry upon his stomach.

A ripple of disappointment on your end. And then another pause.

‘Well… even though I wasn’t extended the same kind offer, you’re welcome to watch me as I take care of my own needs for the night.’ You offer, now teasing between your folds more insistently. You send the rogue another vision of your needy sex and two fingers now shining with arousal, ‘Via tadpole… or in person.’

Astarion has never thrown his shirt on and walked across the camp faster. In his haste, he broke the tadpole connection. But you hear him coming and barely peel back the flap of your tent, displaying the briefest sliver of your naked form.

The vampire pauses for a moment on the outside of your tent, debating if this is the right move. You’re still touching yourself, he can hear the slickness of your sex from here.

“Hurry up, Astarion,” You whisper, somewhat impatiently, as the urge to find release builds within you.

Fuck it, he thinks. He wants to run his tongue along that tattoo again, even if that’s all he does.

He quickly delves into the tent and ties it closed behind him without another thought.

Eventually, he does drag his masterful tongue along that tattoo, and around many other parts of your tempting body, after he decides to help you find a second release.

Simply watching the first one had been enough to make you almost irresistible. He wanted to sink his fangs into you again. Perhaps in your thigh this time, if you’d allow it.

Like a tattoo, his nights tasting you left him permanently altered.

[koji-haru]

Time Travel AU Part: 9

Lucifer slithered between the blades of grass, his small stature masking his presence. Memories from last night flashed within his mind. Those golden eyes, standing out in the darkness, challenging him like a defiant flame. It was on. Lucifer might have initially investigated out of concern and duty (and maybe some revenge), but now his pride was at stake. He was challenged by Adam, and he was not about to back down. He was never too fond of the first man anyway. He was arrogant, acting like he knew better than both him and Lilith. Adam needed to be knocked down a peg or two, and Lucifer was more than happy to oblige. 

First stop was the tree of knowledge of good and evil. Judging from his behaviour, Lucifer was sure Adam had eaten the fruit from the tree. He just had to look for evidence that the tree was tampered with. Signs of a plucked fruit, or leftover from the bitten fruit. Luckily for him, the fruit never rots nor does the tree close its wounds subtly. Signs that a fruit was taken should be obvious to the eye and easy to prove. Honestly, it was almost too easy. 

When Lucifer navigated towards the tree, he was confident of his chances. However, once he arrived, that confidence quickly waned. What greeted him was the tree of knowledge of good and evil in all of its pristine glory. The atmosphere was still, the grass was tall and wildly growing. It was as if the area was stuck in time, untouched by the life outside of its bubble. There was no sign that anyone had been here since the garden was made. Lucifer shook his head. There was no way Adam hadn’t eaten the forbidden fruit. This was just a first impression, and he needed to have a closer inspection. Adam may have covered his tracks well enough, but Lucifer could be meticulous when needed.

Lucifer made his way towards the tree, up its bark, along its many branches. He turned every leaf, inspected every fruit, looked for stubs, even searched amongst the grass for any drop of evidence. And nothing. He looked over everything once more. Twice more. Thrice more. Still, nothing was amiss. It was as if the tree had remained untouched until now. Lucifer couldn’t believe it. Either Adam had perfectly hidden his tracks, or he had never eaten the fruit to begin with. Both explanations were baffling, and yet Lucifer was by the tree, unable to prove otherwise. 

Irritated and confused, but mostly confused, Lucifer eventually made his way back towards the garden’s gate. He wanted to share what he found out so far with Lilith. Perhaps she could provide more insight? She did spend a lot more time with Adam, especially when they were just made. Lucifer sighed. This was a lot more confusing and challenging than he thought it was going to be.

Maybe it was the sun’s rays reflecting off his scales at just the right angle, or maybe it was because he wasn’t paying much attention to the path he was following, either way Lucifer was brought back to reality by the presence of a human. A woman specifically. 

“Oh! I haven’t seen one like you before,” Eve bent down to have a closer look at the small, white snake in front of her. She reached out with her finger, stopping just a few inches away from the snake’s head. “No? Not the affectionate type, are you? That’s alright,” She smiled softly, as she pulled her hand away, opting to instead admire the beautiful snake from a distance.

Lucifer stopped in his tracks, surprised by the second woman’s sudden presence. How did he not notice her? He briefly thought of immediately slithering away, but judging by her demeanour, it seemed like the woman thought he was like any other animal in the garden. In the brief time he had spent lurking in the garden, he had found out that the second woman was from Adam’s rib, not long after Lilith and Lucifer were expelled from Eden. Coming from Adam, Lucifer initially thought she would be similar to him in many ways, and yet whenever her presence caught his eyes, he never detected any form of animosity or ‘unpleasant’ feelings emanating from her. He never got an uneasy feeling from her unlike Adam. Her presence was made of simple innocence and sincerity. Lucifer found it hard to believe that she came from Adam. They were so different in many ways. Honestly, he felt pity for Eve, to have to remain with someone like Adam. It must be unbearable not to have freedom. 

Maybe there was a way he could help her. 

—-

Lucifer eventually made his way back to Lilith. A home amongst the trees, high above the ground, but still covered by the forest canopy. It was their little haven in the massive world that they recently found themselves in. There were many dangers outside the garden, however, his angelic nature alone was enough to deter any predator from approaching. Unfortunately, Lilith was human, and Lucifer, as much as he wanted to, couldn’t always be by her side. And so, while they didn’t need it much, Lucifer used magic to keep his love and their haven perfectly safe from any harm that would ever dare come close. 

As he approached their home, Lucifer was greeted with the sight of Lilith in all of her regal beauty sitting on the balcony, leisurely reading one of the books he had given her. Her blonde hair like silky rays of sun flowing amongst the leaves, her delicately sculpted figure a perfection amongst imperfections, and her amethyst eyes a priceless jewel. She never fails to steal Lucifer’s breath away whenever he gazes upon her image. 

“Something caught your eye?,” Lilith asked, a teasing smile on her lips.

Lucifer nodded, smiling as he flew to sit beside her. “Oh, just the most perfect woman in existence.” He held her hand and placed a soft kiss on it. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” Lilith put down her book to give her full attention to her husband. “You look troubled, what's wrong?”

Lucifer told her of all his findings in the garden. About Adam’s changing behaviour depending on who was present, his recent questionable actions, and the fact that he had seemingly not eaten the fruit of knowledge. How there was evidence in his behaviour, but no traces of it in the garden. It simply seemed impossible. 

“That’s why I’m asking you to remember when Adam may have changed. He couldn’t have always been like this from the beginning.”

Lilith hummed in contemplation, one hand on her chin. When did Adam change? While he did become more and more condescending and controlling as time went on, she didn’t particularly notice any sudden shifts in attitude. To her, Adam had always been unpleasant. 

“Why couldn’t he always have been like that?,” Lilith finally replied.

“What do you mean?”

“Now that I’ve thought more deeply about it, Adam never seemed to have truly cared for me. Did you know he pulled his hand away from me in disgust when we first met? This was after all of the angels left.”

“Really?”

Lilith nodded. “It only went downhill from there. Adam had always been Adam. Yes, he got worse later on, but no abrupt changes. I think it was just him slowly shedding his mask.”

Lucifer looked down at his lap. He didn’t like the conclusion Lilith was leading him down, but she would never lie to him. To question his father’s work. Did God make a mistake when he made Adam? Was there a flaw that Heaven failed to notice? Just the thought itself was blasphemous. Every thought in his body demanded him to banish such thoughts from his mind. To show respect to his father and creator.

“I…don’t believe that Heaven is perfect,” Lilith added. “They did, afterall, punish us for our harmless love.”

The thought gripped onto Lucifer’s mind, unwilling to let go. Lilith was right. Heaven liked to present itself as perfect and fair, when in reality it was not. Lucifer felt the foundations he had always believed in crumbling around him. It was difficult for him to accept this new reality, but he could see it now. Similar to how Lilith was finally able to see the world outside of Eden and God’s plans, Lucifer was finally able to see what Heaven truly was. He held Lilith’s hand in one of his. It was his silent agreement. 

A thought crossed his mind. The image of the second woman being carefree and innocently exploring the cage that disguised itself as paradise. She didn’t know any better, and wouldn’t know any better if things remained the same. 

“I forgot to talk more about it. About Adam’s new wife,” Lucifer brought up.

Lilith quirked an eyebrow. Her gaze told him to go on. Lucifer did briefly mention that Heaven made Adam a new wife, the second woman, and she would be lying to herself if she didn’t admit she was at least curious about her replacement. 

“She was made from one of his ribs…”

“Not from the dust of the earth?”

Lucifer shook his head, “No. And at first, I did think that she would be similar to Adam, being made from him and all, but she’s not like him at all.” He then described his perception of Eve to Lilith. How the second woman was devoid of any ill intent. Her eyes were always full of wonder and excitement as she fully took in everything around her. Always a little too willing and eager to listen to Adam’s whims, like she didn’t know any better. Sure, Adam treated her well enough, but how could he not when Heaven tailor-made a wife for him?

Lilith listened to every word, taking all of this new information in. From what she understood, it seemed that Heaven made the second woman while considering Lilith’s personality. While she was reserved and assertive, Eve seemed to be lively and passive. A little too passive. 

“It’s as if the concept of choice was never built into her,” Lilith added, disgust and anger written all over her face. So that was all Heaven thought of them. Something readily replaceable and to be changed whenever it suited them, like playthings. Why call them perfect in the first place? Lilith clenched her fists tightly. It wasn’t fair at all, for both her and Eve.

“We have to help her. Don’t you think she deserves better? She should, at the very least, be allowed to decide for herself,” Lilith said with finality, her amethyst eyes emboldened by her resentment to Heaven for what they had done. 

This was why Lucifer couldn’t help but love the first woman. She shared his passion and dreams to be able to be who you are with no restraints. She craved true freedom the same way he did. A proud smile crept on his lips, “I knew you would understand. You always do. And yes, we will help her. I’ve got an idea.” 

—-

Lucifer was back in the garden, hiding his presence in the form of various animals. He had two goals now. One, expose Adam’s true nature to Heaven, and Two, give free will to Eve. It sounded simple enough, and yet here was hiding in trees after almost being caught by Michael. Ever since the night that Adam challenged him, the first man had clung to his brother whenever he visited the garden. And wherever Adam was, Eve followed. All three of them were always together, like peas in a pod. 

He wrapped himself on the tree’s branch, his swaying impatiently as he waited for Michael to finally go back to Heaven. He swore that his brother took longer and longer to go back, “Don’t you have more work up there?” 

Suddenly, Lucifer felt himself quickly untangle from the branch and sink towards the ground as something snatched his tail. He forgot the fourth pea in the pod, their pet cat who was weirdly protective of the first man. Amora pinned his scaly body on the ground, yellow eyes looking down on him. If he didn’t know any better, he would say that she looked rather smug. Very like Adam. It was no wonder she had taken a liking to him. 

Amora then placed Lucifer in her mouth, her grip secure, but not deadly, before heading to a sprint towards the trio in the meadow.

“Oh no you don’t!” 

Just as quickly, Lucifer shifted into another animal. Something even smaller. A small, red beetle. And before Amora could bring him to the trio, Lucifer slipped from her jaws, and flew into the air. Way higher up this time. 

When she felt her prey gone from her jaws, Amora stopped abruptly in the middle of the field. Desperately looking around for her prized prey, subsequently catching Adam’s attention. 

“Oof! What’s wrong girl?,” he patted her back when she finally gave up and slumped on him. 

Amora let out a disgruntled growl. Adam understood what that meant. It meant that a weird animal slipped by her again. The weird animal being Lucifer. That was alright though, she at least kept him on his toes and far away enough from both him and Eve. While not as effective as Michael, Amora did keep the snake at bay most of the time.

“She’s been acting odd lately,” Michael commented, looking up as he shifted his focus on the flower halo he was trying to make. Key word tried. It seemed that he found another thing he wasn’t particularly good at. Looking at his sorry excuse of a flower halo, Michael wasn’t even sure why he was still trying at this point. His looked like it could fall apart from a slight breeze, and it was too large and misshapen, its flowers almost crumpled from the amount of times he replaced them. But when Eve invited him to join her and Adam in making flower halos (to be like angels as Eve said), and Adam gave him a perfectly crafted one, that now rested upon his head, and well, he thought he should at least return the favour. That, and Adam’s presence near him, as he taught him what to do and praised his efforts, felt rather… nice. It was like a craving almost fulfilled. A craving that gradually grew more and more potent as the days rolled on. It was also a craving that he couldn’t fully satisfy and shouldn’t. But he would take what he could. 

“Is it her friend again?,” Eve asked.

Adam nodded, “Her friend ran away again.”

The angel had been visiting the garden more frequently, and staying longer as well. Maybe the animals weren’t as comfortable with him as he thought? The other angels in Heaven did say that he had an icy aura sometimes. 

“Maybe her friend is anxious about my presence?”

“I’d say he’s terrified,” Adam snorted inwardly. “Maybe.”

Oh, so his presence was causing some anxiety amongst the garden’s inhabitants. Michael frowned, “I could go if it would make them feel more comfortable.”

Just as he was about to stand and get ready to leave, Adam’s hand shot out to stop him. He had a worried look on his face. “Uh…you haven’t finished your flower halo yet.” His hand left Michael’s forearm and moved onto his shoulder. “Besides, your presence is a comfort.”

Oh dear. That sweet smile and earnest eyes. Michael felt his cravings spike up again, and Adam carelessly was feeding it. 

Michael found it hard to say anything, he eventually found his voice. He cleared his throat, “Alright, I’ll stay.”

Adam pulled back his hand, and Michael already missed the comforting warmth from Adam’s hand. The feel of it lingered on his right forearm and shoulder, etched into memory. 

“Your presence is a comfort.”

Michael smiled to himself. That was nice to know.

Part 8

Part 10

[hearts4werka]

Drugged Love

Summary: You and Chris meet when you're coming back from a gang meeting and he is coming back from a deal, your apperance caught his attention but him suddenly popping out from an alleyway makes you react in the opposite way he though you would. He places his number into your phone but you have to keep the relationship a secret because of your involvement with the dangerous gang… Genre: ANGST & SMUT (further into the story there will be smut dw) Drug dealer x gang member, ?strangers to lovers? Gangster, drug dealer, dark themes, alleyways, driving late at night, rainy night, troubled characters, third person pov and possibly more! Warnings: mentions of drug usage & being under the influence of hard drugs, gang involvement at a young age, illegal weapon possession, involvement in illegal activity, being held at gun point, ?slight threatening?, dark subjects will be involved further into the story including different types of childhood trauma, ass content ahead and possibly more!

The idea is from @leoslaboratory and was requested by @yourmother29 in this ask so thank you both luvies!

"Have a good night everyone." I say to the people left in the conference room as I rise from my chair, grabbing my jacket off the back of the chair and walk out of the room.

“Bless your soul, child.” I hear one of the older women who were remaining in the conference room, shooting her a warm smile as she lights a cigarette that way neatly placed between her lips who do look like they haven’t met male lips nor seen chapstick in at least 25 years.

Walking down the stairs of the building and out of the exit I look around on the streets to make sure no one was lurking in the shadows behind the streetlight softly lighting the road and side walk.

My outfit mostly consists of the color black which is typically normal but having the hood of my hoodie over my head and my clothing cocealing most of my body which at night can be quite concearning and unsual to see. (I didnt find any reference for this so use your imagination)

I make my way back to my car, wanting to get back home after the meeting which lasted over an hour. Feeling the tiredness state affect my awarness of my surroundings, suddenly theres a tall, but significantly attractive man standing infront of me.

Out of reflex I reach into the back pocket of my jeans and pull out a gun, placing it against the man's forehead to stop him from any further movements, my finger already hovering over the trigger.

He visibly tenses and freezes in place, his vision falling onto the barrel of the cold metal gun against his forehead. A shiver running down his spine as he starts to speak in an almost oddly calm voice. Like he’s been in a situation like this before.

"Woah there, don't gotta be so hostile from the start. I was just passing by." He explains, raising his hands into the air in surrender to asuure me he wont be causing any harm to my human being and looking quite friendly but at the same time a bit high.

"Oh, I'm sorry its just a.. reflex I guess." I state in an apologetic tone, pulling the gun away from his forehead and back into the back pocket of my jeans, feeling slight guilt wash over my body at the sudden situation and my actions.

"You don't look like those typical girls walkin' back home this late, you bein' followed that you needa pull a gun on strangers?" He asks, a feeling of protectiveness washes over me at his question. It;s a weird feeling to be feeling to a man that you have just met.

"I can get pretty defensive when it comes to walking home at night. And no, no one is following me, atleast I don't think so" I answer, glancing around and comprehending my surroundings more than before and feeling certainly more awake now. Letting the tiredness state evaporate into the air.

“Ima walk you to wherever you gotta go, m’kay?” He insists, moving to stand next to me and ready to walk to my destination. Showing no signs of moving from his new currently taken spot.

“You don’t have to, don’t you also have places to be at?” I ask, still standing in the same spot I was from the beginning. Reassuring him that he doesn’t need to walk me back home and feeling slightly hesitant with a random stranger walking with me. “I’ll be fine, really. I know how to defend myself.”

“Yeah but I can’t let a pretty thing like you walk alone at night, especially with all the creeps around these alleyways.” He demands, clearly not taking my negative answer into consideration in his mind

Knowing that he won’t stop until I finally give in, I decide on just letting him walk with me. For some reason I feel like i can trust him and having a possible male friend that’s not a gang member is pretty refreshing.

“Fine, you can walk with me but don’t try anything funny or I’ll put a bullet through your skull.” I warn him, shooting him a slight glare and then chuckle at how his expression says that he knows I’m not kidding and that I am serious about the words I just spoke.

We take off from the spots we were stuck in for a few minutes and I start to make my way towards my car with him following close next to me.

“Soo… what’s with you carrying a gun around?” He finally speaks up, trying to make small talk as he looks me up and down in question, seeming a lot more calmer than others who I’ve had the fortune to have pulled a gun to their head.

“Well it’s not exactly legal and I can’t tell you the reason behind it.” I explain and wait for his reaction, noticing the wheels turning in his head with my words hanging in the tense air between us as small awkward silence joins in alongside the tense air.

He nods his head in understanding, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket which was softly draped over his shoulders. “M’kay, understandable.”

"Why are you out so late?" I ask my first question, a small chuckle escapes past his lips as he glances between me and the side walk ahead of him as we walk alongside each other.

"I think I should be asking that." He jokes, we share a small laugh and as his laugh hits my ears I feel slightly warmer inside, his laugh sounds like a small flower newly blooming before he starts to add, "but to answer your question, I was makin' a quick delivery"

I glance at him with slight confusion shadowing over my features, what kind of delivery is he talking about? he doesn't look like the type to deliver packages and with the current time, packages aren't delivered anymore.

"What kind of delivery?" My head tilting to the side in question, glancing up and down at his attire and observing him closely to try and pry an answer out of him from his appearance alone.

A chuckle rumbles in his throat at my question regarding his words, noticing me clearly observing him while thinking he's not gonna notice but with how my eyes were sliding down his form slightly scrunched in determination to get an answer, my intentions were obviously spotted.

"An illegal one." He answers straight to the point, I almost get taken aback by his sudden honestly given that we are strangers to each other and don't even know each other names yet. Quite shocking how quickly he seemed to warm up to me.

"So that makes us both involved in illegal activity," I summarise what I've caught from our current conversation we’re having before I add. "At least we got one thing in common so far." My brain is slowly easing into the information that this might be the longest walk I've been on.

As we finally start to reach the end of our little walk but just as the conversation starts flowing, I see a small glimpse of my car in the distance and feel slightly bummed that our meeting is soon going to come to an end.

I decide to just fuck it and ask for his number to maybe hang out in the near future together, ill be new air to breathe since he isnt involved with the gang I'm involved in. I’m nit sure in what illegal activity he is involved in but I wont stress over that for now.

We finally make it to my car, being only few feet away from it as i turn my head to look at him as he notices me glancing in the way of the black car and realizes it could possibly belong to me.

“Can you give me your phone for a sec?” He speaks up first, glancing down at me and at the black car we are now standing infront of and eyeing it up with quite the precision in his eyes.

Hesitant thoughts cross my mind as I slightly stare at him with confusion contouring my face, the only thing I get from him is a small laugh rumbling in his throat before he adds. “I’m not gonna steal it, don’t worry”

Still feeling slightly skeptic about this idea but I reach into the back pocket of my jeans and reveal my phone to him, before putting it in his direction and for him to easily grab I unlock it first as I assume he would want to use it for something.

Taking the opportunity he grabs ahold of my phone in his calloused hands and opens an app, quickly typing something out before handing it back that causes our hands to brush against each other.

As i take my phone back and shove it into my back pocket but pulling out my car keys and unlocking the car door, turning my head to glance back at him.

"See ya later, little trouble." He slighty teased, emphasizing the little nickname he suddenly thought of. My thoughts are mixed with the random nickname but I wont stress it too much until I get inside of my car.

He shoots me a small smirk that grows on his face before turning around, making his back face me now and starts to walk in the other direction. Slowly letting the dark shadows consume his form into their black wrath.

I open my car door and slide inside, slumping into my seat as my hands land on the steering wheel. My thoughts slowly wrapping their shadowy arms aroun dmy head and pulling me into the pitch black pit, I finally push the key into the keyhole and press the gas, pulling out of my parked spot and into the nightly street as rain starts tapping the roof of my car...

@hearts4werka

authors note: heloo everyone! Soo here is the drug dealer Chris fic and I hope you guys liked it and would want more, I love hearing your guys thoughts on any of my work and if y’all see any improvement from the previous ones, your guys opinion matters to me so don’t be afraid to leave a comment sharing your thoughts if you want! And last question, do we fw the small text? Luv y’all so much

& love and peace, V

Guestlist!

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[missaengg]

Indecently Dreaming Of You

Day 11 of Kinktober: Visions of Temptation hosted by @xxsycamore found here Featuring: Ikemen Villains | Jude Jazza x f!reader Tags: mdni, smut, wet dream, sexual fantasy, nipple play, fingering, piv sex, multiple orgasms, some degradation if you squint, pwp Prompts: Wet Dreams/Sexual Fantasy | “Go on, put it in yourself.” ao3 link here.

Crown Castle was surprisingly empty, which was unusual given that a member or two were always lurking about during the day, especially on the weekends – mostly Victor who always seemed to be present or Roger who was always working on some experiment – but today, the large castle was blissfully quiet.

You made your way to the parlor, your latest novel – a torrid romantic fantasy – in hand, one you generally kept hidden in your room, one if any of the castle’s occupants caught you reading would end with you dying of embarrassment.

Today, however, you felt safe reading it in the sunlit window you loved in the parlor as the only occupant in the castle, and with a delighted hum, you entered the peaceful parlor stroking the book in your hands. Last night you had gotten to the part where the tragic hero, a tortured vampire, rescued the damsel in distress, a woman with a heart of gold, and he was finally on the verge of giving in to his passion after pages of thick sexual tension.

“Tch.. can’t ya see I’m readin’ here?”

Shrieking, you jumped, heart pounding furiously in your chest, fumbling to hide your book behind your back. Turning to the speaker, your eyes widened, squeaking in surprise. “Ju–Jude?!”

Because in the very bay window you hoped to occupy sat Jude, nonchalantly draped on the cushion, cigarette in one hand, a dry looking tome of a book in the other propped up by his knees. You gripped the novel in your hands tighter, pressing it closer into the folds of your skirt. When you roamed about the castle earlier, you hadn’t seen a hint of anyone, let alone the languid Crown member in the room.

“If ya got eyes, then ya know to get the hell outta here.” 

Jude didn’t look up from his reading, but you didn’t need to see his face to know he was feeling irritated with your presence. You turned to go, but you hesitated, eyeing the velvet couch in the center of the room. It was late afternoon when the sun was at its most gentle warmest, your room at its most stuffiest, and the couch looked so plush… You snuck a peek at the pre-occupied man who was currently paying you no attention, and wanting nothing more than to sink into the velvet cushions, you strode over to the couch. The parlor was designed to hold multiple occupants and plenty large enough for the both of you to read quietly without acknowledging the other’s presence.

“Oi.”

You looked in Jude’s direction whose amethyst eyes were glaring at you with displeasure.

“Ya deaf? I said get outta here.”

Holding his glare, you defiantly settled yourself on the couch until you were perched against the armrest with your legs stretched out along the couch length. “I’ll read quietly.”

Jude clicked his tongue and sighed, a huffy, impatient sigh, but returned his attention to his boring, complex book.

You exhaled slowly. It wasn’t that Jude scared you, but he was rather imposing, and he had this way of pinning you with his intense glares, much like how you imagined a wolf would pin down a defenseless rabbit. Absolutely certain his attention was most definitely off of you and would remain off of you, you relaxed into the heavenly soft cushions, cracking your book open to where you had left off the night before.

Just as you expected, it was delicious. The male love interest, Silvio, had vowed to never love again after being betrayed by his love in the past, but had reluctantly fallen for the main female lead, Emma, who helped him heal in her kindness, and despite trying his damndest to push her away, her love prevailed. Silvio had Emma in his arms, capturing her lips in a heated kiss, his passion overtaking him. He slowly undid the buttons on the back of her dress, never once letting her go, and as her dress fell off her shoulders, pooling at her feet. Emma stood before Silvio, naked and exposed. Silvio’s eyes darkened, and his hands trailed down her back, one grazing Emma’s leg, fingers teasingly running up her inner thigh, reaching for the sweet honey that–

“Ya read this crap?”

You jumped for the second time that afternoon, although thankfully, you didn’t shriek like a fool this time around. Whipping your head to the side, you startled at Jude’s leering face peering at the book in your hands from over your shoulder, a sadistic grin playing on his lips. 

God damn it. How did you not hear him move across the room?

You blushed. Of all the people to be caught by, Jude honestly had to be one of the worst because it was highly unlikely he would let this go, at least not until he tortured you into the darkest depths of humiliation.

“Ain’t that some lewd shit?” He glittered wickedly at you. “This what yer into, princess?”

You groaned, wanting nothing more than to bury your face in your hands, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing how affected you were by him in this given moment.

“What’s wrong with reading ‘this shit?” you pushed back.

“Nothin’.” Jude leaned in closer. “Expected nothin’ else from an indecent woman like ya.”

His face was so close to yours, his nose, a mere inch or so from brushing against your cheek. You could feel the heat of his body on yours, and suddenly, the room felt stifling and sweltering, as if the sun burned instead of glowing through the large windows.

“Clearly I’m not the only one if you’re familiar,” you spat, attempting to mask the strange tightening sensation in your chest and your rapidly rising heartbeat.

The look Jude was giving you was frighteningly predatory, his eyes flashing with a devilish heat. You gulped, his intensity robbing you of your ability to breathe. His eyes lazily trailed from you back to the book in your shaking hands.

“Yer at the part where he finally gives in to his desires, are ya?”

You blinked, several times in rapid succession. How would he know that unless he… “Did you really read this?!” Jude read a lot of things, but this… you never expected him to read fantasy let alone romance. 

“Wouldn’t ya like to know, princess.”

God, you wished you could slap that infuriating smirk off his face… or maybe kiss it. 

You flushed. Where the hell did that come from?!

Your body’s state of discomfort didn’t go unnoticed by the devil of a man teasing you.

“Ya want me to show ya what happens next?”

You felt the flush on your face spread, creeping further down your neck and disappearing into your blouse. You swallowed thickly as you watched Jude follow the bright red of your skin disappear into your clothes, and the temperature of the room increased by a few more degrees. 

Why was it so damn hot?

“No, I’m quite alright.”

Why was your voice pitching an octave higher?!

“Ya sure? If ya dream about such… lewd things, I can make it happen for ya.”

Something in your brain short-circuited when his slender finger began tracing along your collarbone and down your sternum. His finger was feather-light against your body, but the way your body fluttered from his touch felt so shamefully good, you didn’t want him to stop.

“That’s… that’s not necessary,” you hoarsely retorted, kicking yourself internally when your voice cracked.

Jude’s finger stilled, and pulling away, he straightened back into an upright position. “That’s yer choice then? Suit yerself.” He shrugged, placing his hands in his pockets. 

You faltered. The sudden loss of his proximity felt enraging. There was a fire smoldering within you, all caused by him, and he was just walking away. You gaped at his back, oscillating between wanting to hold onto your pride and wanting him to come back and finish what he started. You watched Jude move further and further away until he reached the entrance to the parlor.

“Wait!”

You grimaced at how quickly you folded and how flustered you were at his teasing, but… the sudden absence of him felt hollow… and you wanted to know how the book went… in person, demonstrated by Jude’s own slender hands.

Jude paused.

You licked your lips, feeling parched at what you were about to say next.

“What happens next?”

That piqued Jude’s interest, and he turned to face you. You couldn’t quite read the expression on his face, and he remained silent, scrutinizing you.

“Ya really wanna know?”

“Yes.”

He held your gaze, something dark and stormy brewing on his brows. He took a menacing step forward.

“Ya want me to show ya?”

“Yes...”

Jude crossed the distance back to where you sat, keeping his eyes trained on yours, and then he smirked, the devilish grin back again, teasing you.

“No turnin’ back now, princess.”

“No…”

Jude reached down, crashing his thin lips against yours. You hungrily pushed back, the fire blazing into an inferno. He pulled back, lightly panting, a thumb roughly swiping against your bottom lip.

“Where’d ya leave off? Where Silvio takes off her dress?”

You nodded. Jude pulled on the ribbon holding the collar together, pulling it down your shoulders. You closed your eyes, biting down the sensual moan building in your throat as he trailed feverish kisses down your neck and shoulders. His hands deftly undid the buttons along your back, each graze of his fingers on your skin leaving behind a tingling buzz. Soon your blouse was off and tossed to the side.

“Heh… it goes down just as deep as I figured…” You heard Jude delightfully mutter to himself eyeing the pink flush covering your torso.

“Jude,” you whined, drawing out the vowel in his name. “Give me a minute, princess. Let me look at ya.”

You knew you turned even redder at his statement, feeling vulnerable at the way his burning eyes raked over your naked flesh, admiring how deep the flush had crept down. Inhaling sharply, he brought his mouth down to your breast, taking one pert peak into his mouth, biting down and soothing it with his tongue.

You gasped, the sensation of him on your breast even better than you could have imagined – not that you imagined it, except maybe once or twice when alone in your room reading that stupid novel… definitely not because Silvio reminded you of a fiery version of Jude…

“Gotta get yer skirt off.”

He moved to unbutton your skirt, and you pushed your hips off the couch so he could yank both your skirt and your underwear down your legs and carelessly discard them to the floor, all while still taunting you with his skillful tongue. You briefly wondered in your dizzy, pleasure-riddled mind where he had learned to be so skilled with his mouth, wondering if it was learned from his smoking addiction, but that didn’t seem to make much sense at all.

“Jude… what– what does Silvio do next?”

You could barely get your question out, so breathless and enraptured in the way his mouth was playing with you, the ripples of rapture you were feeling from his tongue alone coursing down to your belly.

“Heh… I’ll show ya.” Jude rolled your sensitive peak between his teeth, trailing up your bare leg, stroking your inner thigh dangerously close to where your arousal pooled. “He strokes her… here.”

His fingers brushed along your folds, coating themselves in your slick desire, lightly pressing on the sweet nub sitting at the top of your slit. You arched your back, a strangled moan escaping you, unable to hold back the vocal expressions of your gratification any longer.

“Ya liked that, didja? Ya nasty woman.”

His glee at your writhing from his provocation was clearly evident in the pleased tone of his voice. You knew you should be upset, the way you normally would when he called you names, but something about his taunting was only adding to the torrential mix of him, his touch, his voice, his scent.

“What… Ngh…” Your hips jerked sharply as his finger circled firmly above your slit yet again. “What… Jude, what does… haah… Silvio do next?”

“This.” 

Jude unceremoniously plunged two of his fingers inside you. The most animalistic guttural groan ripped out of you, surprising not just Jude, but also yourself. You couldn’t ever recall when you made such a primal noise before in your life, but the sensation of him inside of you was unholy, curling against a part of you that you didn’t even know existed, but had you violently arching your back at the white hot flash before your eyes.

“God damn, princess.” 

You heard Jude bite out as you clamped down on his fingers, lewd whimpers tumbling from your lips. It wasn’t as if you hadn’t had any experience, but nothing… nothing… like this. You were on fire, and he hadn’t even fully touched you yet.

“And then?” you barely rasped out, breathing erratically shallow, disoriented and dizzy from the onslaught of his fingers inside of you and his thumb pressing your clit. 

“Eager, princess?” Jude teased, but there was less of a taunt and more of a feral growl in the way he replied. 

“Jude,” you pitifully whined, bucking wildly against his palm, trying your hardest to keep up with how quickly his fingers were pumping in and out of you. The coil in your belly was taut, ready to snap at any moment.

“He uses his mouth.”

The sudden absence of his fingers snapped you back to reality, but your reprieve was short-lived because the next thing you knew, Jude was between your legs and hauling you towards his face by the bruising grip he had on your hips. Settling his mouth on you, he ran his tongue up your slit.

Your breath hitched.

Oh sweet heavens.

You threw your head back, grasping the soft cushions below you in a vice grip as Jude ravaged you, holding you in place, digging his fingertips into your supple flesh. He explored every inch of you with his mouth, feasting on you like a man starved, the coil in your belly only growing tighter and tighter.

He nudged his mouth up higher and sucked down hard.

“Jude!”

The coil snapped. You saw stars as shudder after shudder of ecstasy overtook you in waves, mind devoid of any thoughts save for the intense pleasure running through you and the sensation of Jude continuing to mouth you through your tremors.

“Don’t think that happened in the book,” Jude snickered, using his sleeve to wipe your essence off his mouth and chin.

“And.. and then?” you asked weakly, laying there dazed, staring at the ceiling and thinking that this couldn’t possibly be the end.

“And then…” 

The sound of rustling had you craning your head to see Jude at long fucking last removing every piece of clothing until he was just as exposed as you, his dick standing at attention. You marveled at how it was just like him, tall, sinewy, thicker than it looked, maybe even slightly irritated with a permanent scowl on its face. You wondered how it would feel in your mouth. In you.

Jude sat back on the other end of the couch, legs spread open. “Go on, put it in yerself.” He arched an eyebrow, a corner of his mouth flicking upwards, that smug smirk you wanted to slap – or was it kiss now – daring you to come closer.

You pushed yourself up into a sitting position, ignoring the damp spot forming beneath you staining the velvet below. “We’re not following the book anymore, are we?”

“Very perceptive of ya, princess. So, ya gonna come here or not?” Jude patted his lap, mocking you with that shit-eating smirk of his.

You glowered at him, but your gaze fell back to his lap, and you felt yourself move, crawling towards him on all fours, fully aware you were giving him a show based on the scandalous look on his face. He leaned back even further into the cushions, resting both his arms along the top of the couch, spread out and proudly on display.

Cocky bastard.

Sweetly smiling at the infuriatingly smug man in front of you, you rose on your knees, and straddling his lap, feeling emboldened, you kissed him furiously, guiding him into position. Without breaking the kiss, you sank down, hard, burying him to the hilt.

Jude choked on his own breath.

Oh. You grinned villainously into his mouth. He wasn’t expecting that.

You ground against him wanting to provoke him for taunting you mercilessly, relishing each choked groan he uttered. You squeezed your thighs, intentionally clenching around him as you pushed yourself up, preparing to slide down agonizingly slowly, to tease him for a change. 

Smug, arrogant, sadistic, fucking sexy jerk.

Jude snapped, thrusting into you without abandon, the tip of him ramming into your cervix. You exhaled sharply, the pain radiating from your center not wholly unwelcome, your vision flashing white. Jude flipped you onto your back during your dazed confusion, and he slammed into you repeatedly.

“Then, princess,” he grunted, brutally jerking his hips into you, a primal frenzy overtaking him, “they fucked.”

He moved against you with such force you could only cling to him. Seeking the tiniest bit of respite, you wrapped your legs around him, accidentally pulling him deeper into you, causing Jude to growl ferociously and only increase his frenzied pace.

You were trembling. For the second time, Jude had you seeing stars, writhing from the unbearable pleasure building deep in you. You didn’t want him to stop, desperate for him to make you cum, to make you quake and shiver and quiver, to make you unravel in the throes of passion, to come undone by his hand.

“Hah.. princess, yer so tight.”

Jude’s groans were right in your ear, his voice vibrating through his body into yours. A thrilling ecstasy was overtaking you, heading towards an explosive peak only he could bring you to, building, building, building until–

“Oi.”

A nudge.

“Oi!”

You cracked open an eye, wincing as the bright sunlight invaded your vision. 

“Oi, princess, wake up.”

Your eyes fluttered open, and blinking heavily, you rubbed your face with the palm of your hands.

“Jude?”

You blearily focused on Jude, confused as to why he was facing you by the couch instead of towering over you and way more clothed than you remembered, why you were suddenly fully clothed. Squinting as you adjusted to the light, you sat up on the couch, your book falling off your lap and tumbling to the floor below. 

Was it all just a dream?

As the tendrils of sleep faded away, the full reality of the dream you had hit you, and you blushed a furious shade of red. Oh god… you didn’t moan or utter his name in your sleep by any chance… did you? 

Wishing the ground would open up and swallow you whole, you glanced at Jude, anxiously searching him for any signs he had an inkling of the indecent dream you just had, but he only had that same infuriating smirk on his face, which widened when he caught you staring at him intently.

“Hah… why’s yer face so red? Ya have a lewd dream or somethin’?”

“N–no!” you cried out, and face burning even hotter than you thought possible, you swiped your book off of the floor, running out of the parlor to put as much distance as you possibly could between you and the arrogant jerk who was starting to get that dangerous sadistic glint in his eyes.

You didn’t give him anything to torment you about, right? Right?

Groaning internally, you hurried back through the large castle to the safety of your room cursing yourself for being so careless.

Unbeknownst to you, however, you left behind a darkened patch of velvet where you had been laying. Jude ran a finger over it, lips curling when he realized it was damp right where your hips had been on the cushion. He snickered, a sound you thankfully were not around to hear, rubbing his pointer and thumb together.

“Hopeless.”

[lonewolflupe]

Echo Of Your Mind (One-Shot)

Help, I'm officially an Echo girlie now. Thanks to @nahoney22 for helping me cross that line with her one-shot That Floral Dress. I got inspired to write my own one-shot after reading hers, and finished it in two days (I may have neglected my sleeping scedule again). I should have focused on other things (like my job), but this gorgeous man doesn't leave my mind alone.

Besides this story being some appreciation for Echo, I dedicate this to all the anxious/introverted/super shy people out there. I feel you, I've been there (I still am), but I found my place in this galaxy. You'll find your place as well!

Summary: Your daily life in Ord Mantell City holds little purpose, and you try keeping away from the unsavoury types that roam the City's streets. But one day, a group of strangers piques your interest. You find yourself falling head over heels for one of them, despite your anxious and shy nature. Rating: Mature (or 16+ at least) Tags: anxiety, hurt/comfort, fluff, mutual pining, (eventual) romance, strangers to lovers, intimacy, sexual content (when becomes a story (mild) smut? help I'm new to this) Words: 7.829k (consisting of four parts) Pairing: Echo x Fem!Reader Read this one-shot here on AO3!

PART I | MORNING

19 BBY, Ord Mantell | Ord Mantell City

Ord Mantell City is a miserable place. To you, at least. You were born here, and are still residing here as an adult. You don't know anyone or any place else in the galaxy, for you've never been away from this forsaken planet.

Of course you have read about the war on the HoloNews, heard stories from seedy strangers roaming the city. But nothing of significance had happened on this planet, nothing that had affected your life. Now that Ord Mantell was under Imperial command, you find nothing much has changed. The place is still awful, and you prefer to remain near your home.

Sudden shouting from the upstairs neighbours disturb your thoughts. You sigh as you get up from the uncomfortable, worn out sofa in your living room, walking towards your front door. You grab a broom on the way and walk outside, taking in the sultry air that holds a grasp on the City.

Your porch is probably the cleanest of Ord Mantell City, since every time you need to clear your head, you find yourself sweeping it. Out of habit, you keep a lookout for any sinister individuals, ready to jolt back inside if you feel something is off.

Which has happened a lot, since Cid’s Parlor is located right across the alley. The bar isn't a crowded one, but most visitors provoke an unpleasant feeling inside you. There was a time during the war it got visited by elegant individuals in static robes occasionally, but times have changed.

The only usuals now are an Ithorian and a Weequay, lurking around the place on a daily basis. You had wondered if they didn't have anything better to do, places to be, only to realise this was Ord Mantell City; there wasn't anything better to do.

A shiver down your spine makes you look up. It is morning and the sun is up, but the narrow, dark alley is mostly lit by the neon signboards hanging from the adjacent buildings. They shed a light on a group of strangers as they come walking around the corner, into the alleyway.

Clumsily, you fidget with your residence’s keycard, nervous feelings taking over as you try to get back inside as quickly as possible. The front door whooshes open and you enter your home, making sure the door closes right behind you.

You take a moment to steady your breathing before walking towards the small, dirty window beside the front door. You clean it quite often, but the city's filth keeps finding its way back to it.

As you wipe some condensation from the inside of the window, you see the strangers halt right in front of Cid’s. You know you shouldn't keep lingering at the window like this; what if they spot you? But something about the strangers piques your interest, and you find it hard to pull away.

“This is the place,” you hear one of them remark in a determined way, before another responds cynically with: “Charming.”

The group consists of four adults, wearing mostly dark, battle-worn armour, their faces hidden behind intimidating helmets. In between them, there is a young, energetic girl with short, blonde hair. You raise a brow as you watch them descend the stairs into the bar, not averting your gaze until they disappear from your view.

With your mind racing, you find yourself strolling back to the sofa, sitting down when you reach it. You have never seen anything like these strangers at Cid's before, and you wonder what the Trandoshan is up to now.

Although obviously customised, their armour did remind you of the attire worn by clones, the former Republic's soldiers. You have never seen any with your own eyes before, but you remember seeing pictures and holovids on the HoloNet.

As your thoughts wander, you finally find something to do, distracting you from what you just witnessed. You continue your daily activities and leave the strangers to Cid.

---

During the following days and weeks, you get occasional glimpses of the strangers. They seem to have some business going on with Cid, because you can't imagine them revisiting the bar for its atmosphere. You even get some glimpses of the adults without their helmets, which only confuses you more. You thought they were clones, but they look nothing alike?

Since you have a lot of time alone with your thoughts, you find them on your mind more often. Who are they, where did they come from, did they fight in the war? Are they really clones, were they soldiers, and what are they now, perhaps bounty hunters? But what is the young girl doing with them? She looked happy and enthusiastic. What is a kid like her doing with such companions?

---

One of those days, you find yourself walking through the alley with some groceries in your arms. You hold everything together clumsily, admitting you're probably carrying too much in one go. When you finally make it to your front door, you reach for your keycard in your right pocket - only to find out it isn't there.

You scold yourself softly as you fidget through your pockets, hoping you just put it in a different one. Your groceries start sliding away, a piece of fruit falling on your porch and rolling away into the alleyway.

“Let me help you with that,” you suddenly hear a voice behind you. Eyes wide open, you look up in shock, previously unaware of the fact you weren't alone. You look right into the face of one of Cid's newest associates. Your breath gets caught in the back of your throat as you stand frozen to the ground.

The male walks up to you, the fallen piece of fruit in his hand. He puts it back with the other groceries, before taking the load out of your arms. When you don't move or reply, he takes a step back. “I'm sorry if I startled you,” he says whilst averting his gaze from you for a brief moment.

You look up at his face. It somewhat reminds you of what you've seen from clones on the HoloNet, but it isn't an exact copy. Pale skin, sunken cheeks, dark rims below his eyes. On the top of his head, you see numerous cybernetic implants, and bend around the back of his head is a metal headpiece. He definitely doesn't look like a typical clone.

When you look back into his eyes, you can see them filled with kindness, concern even. You regain yourself, as you don't want to come over as rude. “I-I’m sorry,” you stammer, your eyes darting back and forth as you don't know where to focus them, “I'm not really used to..”

“Clones?” he finishes your sentence, as you clearly didn't know what term to use. A comforting smile appears on his face, and you feel a bit more at ease instantly. “Well, social interaction in general,” you blurt out, immediately followed by a blush on your cheeks. He chuckles amused, as you shuffle on your feet awkwardly.

You suddenly realise you were in the middle of a keycard crisis, and you continue your search. It proves way more effective without any groceries blocking your arms, and it doesn't take you long before you find it - in a different pocket than usual, of course. You put the card in the slot and the front door whooshes open.

With a cautious smile on your face, you gesture to the clone to enter your very humble abode. He enters, and once inside, you pass him to show him a spot in your kitchen to put down the groceries. He manages without any more falling food, which you find rather impressive, given the fact how you had struggled with them earlier.

When he retracts his arms once the groceries are on the kitchen's counter, you notice one of them is partly machine. You freeze again, and the clone catches you staring at his mechanical limb. “Comes in handy sometimes,” he says jokingly, as he reaches out the scomp at the end of his socket-arm to show it to you.

You cannot help but laugh at his remark, lifting some of the tension. He smiles at you genuinely, pleased he was able to put you at ease. “Name's Echo, by the way,” he finally says. You give him your name in return. “Nice to meet you. I already thought I'd seen you before,” he says, as he looks at the window beside the front door.

You swallow as the blush on your cheeks reappears. You could slap yourself in the face; how did you think none of these trained men would notice you observing them, day in, day out?

“I, er- This isn't exactly the most safe neighbourhood around, you know, so I tend to keep an eye out,” you stammer, turning around to aimlessly rearrange your groceries. Echo chuckles, turning towards you again. “You don't have to defend your actions. It's your window, use it however you like,” he says, tilting his head slightly whilst observing you.

He thinks your shyness and awkwardness are endearing. In this vast, wild galaxy, sliding from the war into the Empire's cruelties, he rarely encounters innocence anymore. He notices you still hold yours, and he finds it soothing.

“Since you caught me.. ‘Using my window’,” you finally start saying, slowly as you consider your words carefully, “How can Ord Mantell City possibly be of any interest to you and your friends?” You regret asking immediately after your words are out, but Echo doesn't seem to mind.

“We just need to work some jobs to pay the bills, so to speak,” he replies casually, shrugging as if it isn't anything out of the ordinary for them. Of course you wonder what jobs and what bills he's talking about, but you would never dare to ask; your previous question was already quite bold for your standards.

So you don't inquire any further, but you gather all your courage to heed a warning. “Just.. Be careful around Cid. She's not the most.. Reliable individual around,” you say softly, afraid someone outside your home will hear it if you speak out louder.

Echo's lips curl into a smile, as he puts his hand on your arm for a brief moment. “Thanks for the heads-up, I'll keep it in mind,” he says, grateful for your concern. You finally find the heart to look up into his eyes, and you find yourself losing in them instantly. They are soft and kind, with a glister of confidence and certainty. But you cannot help noticing the pain, the hurt and the fatigue behind those eyes.

You don't know anything about this man except for his name, but the mixture of emotions in his eyes, the invisible scars you feel he is hiding, the unspoken reason why he's clearly on the run, it gives you the urge to comfort this man. A feeling deep down inside you, which you haven't felt before.

Of course you don't, because it would make you even more uncomfortable than before. You abruptly break your eye contact and turn around again, scolding yourself for your very own behaviour, but you can't help it; this is who you are.

Since you turned around, you cannot notice, but Echo's smile widens. You actually told him quite a lot by the words you didn't speak, by the way you did behave and how you just looked into his eyes.

Although he wouldn't mind staying for a bit longer, because he appreciates some quiet time away from the Batch and he finds it pleasantly soothing being around you, he realises you need some space, and he doesn't want to intrude on you any further. “Sorry for bothering you in your home, I'll be on my way,” he finally says, nodding at you in a respectful way once you've turned towards him again.

He walks over to the front door and pushes the entry button, and the door whooshes open. You rush after him, afraid he'll just disappear out of your life like that, but as always, you are lost for words. He walks across the alley, and just before he makes it to the stairs to descend into Cid's, you find your words.

“You- You aren't a bother,” you say shyly, as you hope he doesn't notice the blush on your cheeks from across the alley. He turns around, with a warming smile on his face, which makes you melt. You had no idea who these men, these clones were, but you definitely didn't think them to be the gentle kind.

“See you around then,” he says to you at last, making a very small salute with his scomp, before turning around again and disappearing down the stairs. You get back inside your home, and when the door closes behind you, you lean your back against it and let out a heavy sigh.

Who would have guessed any of Cid's visitors would awake such feelings inside you?

…

PART II | AFTERNOON

19 BBY, Ord Mantell | Ord Mantell City

It's been a while since you've seen Cid's latest associates, so you start to assume they moved on to find a new job, somewhere across the galaxy. An aching feeling inside you yearns for something you seem to have missed out on, something that could have been.

You sigh out loud as you lean back on your sofa. Your days were already long and lonely, but now it seems like they are even more meaningless. You wish you had the courage to get out into the galaxy, to be someone.

You suddenly hear sounds coming from the alleyway out front, and something tells you it's not your upstairs neighbours. With optimism you feel is misplaced, you dart over to the small window beside your door. You've been cleaning it on a daily basis since that one day, making sure you can get any glimpse possible whenever you peer outside.

Your heart skips a beat when you realise what - or who - made the sounds outside; it's Cid's associates. And Echo is still one of them. You pull away from your window to catch your breath, as a warm feeling starts emerging inside you again. He is safe, and he is in town again. You couldn't hope for anything more at this moment.

If only you had the courage to go outside. If he had been on his own, you might have dared to step outside, to walk up to him, but not with his friends around. So you stay put, awaiting a better moment patiently. You've become quite good at that.

---

It is only the next day when you catch him on his own. As you walk casually past your window (you weren't lurking around to catch any glimpse of him at all), you spot him as he comes walking out of Cid's and into the alleyway.

When he reaches the top of the stairs, he halts and starts rubbing his closed eyelids, his head slightly hanging. It looks like he is having a hard time, and your urge to comfort him reappears. You swallow as you gather all your courage.

This is your moment. If you loiter now, you might never get another chance again - let alone the courage. As you put aside all your thoughts and try listening to your heart for once, you push the entry button and your front door whooshes open.

Echo looks up at you, and a smile appears on his tired face as he is pleasantly surprised to see you. He utters your name softly, and a blush appears on your face; he had remembered your name.

“Would you- Would you like to come in for a caf?” you stammer, shifting on your feet as you await his answer. You don't have to wait long. “I would love a caf,” he replies, before crossing the alley, walking up your porch and entering your home. You can't help noticing he was taking big steps, almost running to your door, as if he couldn't wait to reach you.

Inside, you move aside a chair at your small table, inviting him to sit down. He does so gladly, and you walk towards the kitchen's counter to make a fresh pot of caf. Your mind races as you wait for it to finish, but Echo waits for you patiently, not in a hurry at all.

When the pot is finally ready, you pour two mugs and join him at the table. “I, er- I was afraid you weren't coming back to Ord Mantell,” you admit softly, whilst handing him one of the mugs. His fingertips touch yours for a very brief moment when he takes the mug from you; was that intentional? A warm feeling emerges in your head, and you're sure you're blushing - again.

“I appreciate your concern,” he starts, as he holds up the mug of fresh caf under his nose, inhaling deeply. He closes his eyes for a moment as he is appreciating the scent; he was clearly in need of it. He opens his eyes again, as they focus on you. “But you, er- You shouldn't worry about us,” he says with a wry smile on his face.

Seeing the expression on his face makes you do the exact opposite of his words; you start worrying. And now that you look at him, you notice he looks overworked and exhausted; he looks worn. You put down your mug, hitting the table harder than you anticipated, as you were putting all your emotions in that small movement. It startles you, and he chuckles in amusement.

“Really, there's nothing to worry about. We've been around and we know our way through the galaxy,” he reassures you, both his eyebrows raised as he slightly leans forward, towards you. Your heart skips another beat when you look at his gentle face.

Suddenly, his expression shifts to a confused one. “Why do you care so much?” he asks, shaking his head in his confusion, not sure why a stranger would worry about his well-being. But if he was being honest with himself, you didn't feel like a stranger anymore.

You swallow, your eyes darting back and forth again, searching for the right words. Your fingers fidget around the rim of your mug nervously. “You seem like a.. Like a good person. I don't see those around here often,” you finally falter, before looking him straight in the eyes.

The planet around you seems to die down when you lose yourself into his golden-brown eyes. They are the prettiest eyes you've ever seen, but then again, you've never stared into someone's eyes like this before. But you can't imagine eyes being prettier than his.

He puts his hand on yours, stopping the fidgeting, as your nerves make place for something else. Your heartbeat rises and your breathing becomes heavy. “Echo, I..” you stammer, but you don't finish your sentence. You have a hard time handling your feelings, not used to this kind of intimacy.

You jump out of your seat, accidentally knocking the chair over in the process. The noise of it hitting the floor startles you, and you do not notice Echo getting up as well. He gently touches your shoulder with his hand, and when you turn to him in surprise, he is standing right in front of you.

You've never been this close to him before. You see his eyes glisten comfortingly, his nostrils moving as he breathes, his Adam’s apple going up and down as he swallows.

Without thinking, you slowly shift your hand towards his cheek. Before you reach his skin though, he moves his head towards your hand, pushing his cheek against it, as he longs for your touch. Letting out a content sigh, he closes his eyes for a moment, and you see his eyebrows twitch in delight.

Now he finally feels your touch. You notice his chest heaving faster than before, and you realise that - maybe - he longs for you as much as you for him. You lick your lips and leave some space between them, making your heavy breathing more audible. It makes Echo open his eyes, as he yearns to touch those lips.

This time, he reaches his hand towards your face, and he gently caresses your cheekbone. His fingertips slide softly through your hair to the back of your head, and when he reaches it, he gently pulls you closer.

It feels like an eternity to reach each other, and your mind is racing. But all your thoughts are quieted down when your lips finally touch. You gasp as your breathing stops for a moment, your eyelids closing instantly as your eyes roll back.

Echo puts his mechanical arm around your waist, and with the utmost care, as not to hurt you with it, he pulls you closer. Your lips are pressed together, moving passionately against each other as you both finally give in to your longing.

You feel his breath on your skin and you let out a deep sigh, brushing his tender lips. He thinks yours are the softest, and he can't get enough of tasting them. As he indulges in you, you cannot help yourself by letting out a soft moan of pleasure.

He tightens his grasp around your waist when he hears your expression of content. He thought being apart from you was driving him insane these last few weeks, but now that he is finally close to you, he feels like he is losing it. Your innocence, your genuine and comforting soul, your beautiful appearance, your soft skin and your perfect lips..

Abruptly, he pulls away from you. He is afraid he will lose himself in you, going too far, ruining this perfect afternoon. He knows you'll need a little space after this, and he doesn't want to push you - although you might have complied if he'd asked for more.

Your eyes shoot open as you look at him confused; did you do something wrong? But his expression is all soft and loving, and you instantly melt by his sight. He leans forward to you again, but instead of kissing you, he gently puts his forehead against yours.

Not aware of the meaning - or even the existence - of a Keldabe kiss, you return the gesture anyway, as you think it's sweet. But to Echo, it means the galaxy.

After a long moment, the two of you pull away slowly. You wish it could have lasted forever, and Echo would have liked to hold you for a bit longer, but it had to end at one point. You look up at him, a loving smile on your face. He gently strokes your cheek with his thumb.

“Thank you, cyar'ika*,” he whispers, as he gently places a kiss on your forehead. You haven't heard that word before, and don't know what it means, but you're too caught up in the moment to spoil it by asking.

*cyar’ika = darling/sweetheart

At that moment, Echo's comm device starts beeping. He answers it without hesitation. “Echo, where are you? We need you to break a tie. Wrecker and I think Cid's next job sounds exciting, but Hunter and Tech.. Not so much.”

You see Echo's eyes soften as he responds to the girl. You'd like to hear more about his companions, but it seems like you have to wait until next time. You really hope there will be a next time.

Echo puts his comm device away before turning towards you, ready to apologise for his departure. But you beat him to it. “It's okay, go to them. Just- Just don't forget to come by whenever you're back in the City,” you tell him, as you put your flat hands on his chest armour. He puts his hand and scomp on top of your hands, as you swallow away the lump in your throat; you're well aware his coming back isn't a certainty at all.

He feels your worries, and although he knows he shouldn't be making any promises he can't keep, he wants to ease your mind. “I'll come find you,” he says determined, as he gently nods towards you. You smile back in return, gently placing a kiss on his cheek before you walk him to the front door.

Just before he reaches the door, you grab his hand. “Please, Echo.. Be careful out there,” you whisper, as he steps over your doorstep. He stretches his arm, keeping hold of your hand for as long as possible. “I'll do my best,” he replies, before letting go of your grasp.

You stand in your doorway, watching him cross the alley again, disappearing into Cid's. And after that, you keep standing in your doorway a little longer, hoping to catch another glimpse of him.

…

PART III | EVENING

c. 19/18 BBY, Ord Mantell | Ord Mantell City

As the sun slides away, looming shadows fill the alleyway. The neon signboards on the adjacent buildings cast their flashing lights about. The alley is empty, abandoned, apart from an occasional straying stranger.

You're lying on your sofa, your back aching from the uncomfortable hardness of it, but you don't have the will to move. Your thoughts wander as you gaze up towards the ceiling, thinking, hoping you will see him again.

As always, it's been a while. Echo has visited you a few times after that perfect afternoon, but his visits had been short; barely enough time to check on each other. You yearn to spend some more time together, maybe pick up where the two of you have left off.

But you know he is working a job with his squad, as you haven't seen them in a while. You put away your desires and hope he is doing alright. He told you not to worry, but you do worry a lot; you cannot help it.

---

You have almost dozed off when you hear excited voices coming from outside, immediately shaking you fully awake. Your body stiff, you manage to get up, and you stumble towards the window. Echo. A hopeful smile appears on your face as you finally see him and his squad again.

You still haven't mustered the courage to run outside to meet him as long as his friends are around, but you've grown a tad bolder; you push the entry button and your front door whooshes open.

As your heart races in your chest, a feverish feeling washing over you, you wait against the wall between the door and the window, out of sight. You're hoping he notices the open door and sees it as an invitation.

“Go, we'll manage Cid,” you hear a low voice from across the alley, a slight tone of amusement in the voice. Your heart skips a beat when you hear the sound of someone stepping closer and closer to your front door..

When Echo finally makes it to your doorstep, you spin in front of him and land in his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck. He is caught off guard for a moment, not used to you being this kind of initiative. But he doesn't mind; he wraps his arms around your waist to pull you closer, before kissing you tenderly.

When you finally pull apart, you look up to him, your eyes full of concern. “I-I was afraid something had happened,” you confess softly, almost in a whisper. He gently strokes your cheek before wiping a strand of your hair behind your ear. “I told you not to worry,” he replies, a bit stern, but his eyes soft.

You cannot help but scoff as you cross your arms, raising one eyebrow. “And you never worry about anyone?” you shoot at him teasingly. His expression softens. “All the time,” he says softly, before pulling you close again, continuing the kissing.

---

After your warm welcoming, you manage to get him some well deserved caf. As always, he doesn't give you any details about their latest job, because he knows your worries will multiply if you know what he's up to. And he doesn't want to drag you into the ugliness of the current state of the galaxy, as you're still as innocent as the first day he met you. And he loves you for it.

“So, er- how long will you stay this time?” you finally stammer, afraid he'll walk out again and he'll be off for another few weeks. Of course you meant to ask how long he and his squad would be staying on Ord Mantell in general, but he takes the leap.

“We're not gonna make new plans until the morning, so I'll have all night, if you'd like,” he replies, his soft smile sliding into a faint smirk as you see a sparkle in his eyes. You swallow; you really like his answer, but your nerves are playing up again, not sure what the evening will bring. And as always, you're lost for words.

Is it you, or is it getting hot in here? You're sure your head has turned red by now, and you need to cool down. You excuse yourself to him as you stand up, making sure to not knock over your chair this time, and walk towards your bedroom.

You open the door to the adjacent room, but something inside you decides to leave it open. You take off your thick shirt and slide into something more breathable.

When you turn around, Echo is leaning against the doorpost, his arms crossed and his foot bend around the other. You didn't turn on any lights when you entered your bedroom, so you cannot see the expression on his face. The only light comes from the room behind him, shedding a highlight around the contours of his body.

You freeze to the floor as you stare at each other in silence. Echo finally straightens himself, getting clear of the doorpost, and starts walking over to you slowly. Your heart skips a beat; you feel slightly vulnerable in your own bedroom, not sure how long he'd been standing there, watching you. But although you don't know how to go on from here, you definitely want it to continue.

When he reaches you, he starts caressing your cheek. You look up to his face, your eyes wide as they glisten, your lips apart in full anticipation. Before he reaches for them, you find your words. “I.. I’d like you to stay for the night,” you whisper shyly, yet honestly. There's nothing you want more at this moment.

“Then I'll stay,” he replies tenderly, a gentle smile on his face before he leans towards you, pressing his lips on yours. You close your eyes as you indulge into his kiss, forgetting everything around you.

After some passionate kissing, Echo slowly shifts his lips to your cheek, sliding down to your neck. You feel his warm breath on your skin, making something awaken inside you. His lips reach the spot between your neck and shoulder, starting with soft, tender kisses, but slowly evolving into something more confident, something more eager and desirous.

He is still very tender with you. Although he doesn't bite, you feel his teeth against your skin, the tip of his tongue dancing on you as he tastes you. A moan of pleasure escapes your throat, and you feel a shiver going through Echo's body.

He gently leads you backwards, towards your bed. You comply willingly, and when you reach it, you sit down whilst you guide him down as well, your hand grasped around the rim of his chest plate, below his neck. He kneels down before you, and you gaze into each other’s eyes for a moment before continuing.

“Are you.. Are you alright with this?” he asks softly, concern in his voice. But there is nothing he should be worrying about right now. You nod determined, a smile appearing on your face. “Yes, very much,” you finally muster, before you land another kiss on his lips. You feel his lips curl into a smile below yours.

You start fidgeting with his armour, but taking it off proves quite difficult, since you haven't interacted with anything like it before. He chuckles softly before aiding you in your conquest. When the pieces start coming off, and you start taking off his black jumpsuit, you pull away in shock and disbelief when you notice what you revealed.

“What did they do to you?” you blurt out, as your eyes wander his body, where you find mechanical ‘adjustment’ after adjustment. He swallows, slightly pulling away from you. He was so caught up in the moment, caught up in you, that he didn't think about this. Didn't think you would be taken aback by him.

“It's.. It's in the past,” he mumbles, averting his gaze from yours. A moment of silence, before he softly adds: “You can leave those on, if it disturbs you.” He reaches back for his blacks, but you stop him by grasping his hand. You cup your other hand below his chin, and gently guide his gaze back towards yours. “No, I'd like to have you like you are,” you say in a sweet way, and your words make him melt.

Taking your clothes off happens in a heartbeat, compared to Echo’s attire. Both your chests are heaving and your breathing is heavy with anticipation. As Echo slowly reaches up to you, you let yourself fall backwards onto the sheets, your arms stretched above your head. He slowly crawls on top of you, admiring your beauty, wondering how you’re able to still retain your innocence as you lay naked below him.

When you're finally face to face, you wrap one arm around his neck, careful not to hit his mechanical spine too hard. Your other hand starts caressing his metal sternum, as you take in every detail of his body. Your hand slides towards his face, where you touch the metal headpiece around the back of his head.

“Is this.. Is this detachable?” you ask softly, cautiously, as you don't want Echo thinking you like him any less with him wearing it. He smiles, and takes it off. It reveals his ears, and you can't help smiling in the most affectionate way; he has the cutest ears.

This time, it's Echo who's blushing. You let your fingertips wander the rim of his ear, and you find out he's a tad ticklish around there. He twitches his brows as he tries to regain himself. You chuckle, before you let your hand slide behind the back of his head and pull him close.

Your lips touch again, and you start kissing tenderly. The tips of your tongues touch, as they shyly meet halfway. Echo groans as you softly start biting his lower lip. You cannot help it, but the sound arouses you. You gasp and slowly part your legs, and finally wrap them around his pelvis.

He gladly accepts the invitation, looking at your face when he slowly enters you at last. Your eyes are closed, your head slightly tilted backwards. You bite your lower lip, your eyebrows wrinkled as it hurts, but he continues as gently as possible. Once he's fully inside, you let out a sigh as the tension from your face disappears.

The hurt turns into pleasure as he slowly moves his pelvis against yours. He is still looking at your face, making sure you're alright, that he's not hurting you anymore. When he finds a pleasing rhythm, you let out a moan, which would have startled yourself if you hadn't been this caught up in the moment. A shiver runs down Echo's body, which you feel inside.

You open your eyes with a gasp, and you look up at his face. His golden-brown eyes are admiring you, and his lips are curled into a smile. You feel the blush reappear on your cheeks, but you don't worry about it too much; Echo is used to it by now.

Without thinking too much about it, you sit upright as much as your intertwined bodies allow. A bit awkwardly, you try to swap positions. Echo helps you out once he realises what your intentions are. He is slightly surprised, since this is clearly your first time, but you want to take the lead now. But he isn't complaining.

Echo lays down on his back as you position yourself on top of him. You taste his lips again, before straightening your back. You guide him back inside you and start moving your pelvis up and down, starting slow but increasing the pace as you gain a bit of confidence in what you're doing. You close your eyes as you focus on the moment.

Echo looks up at you in both admiration and adoration. He positions his hand and scomp on either side of your moving hips. He is careful with the metal part of his right arm, because he doesn't want to distract you. Slowly, his hand and scomp slide upwards, reaching higher, until they reach your breasts.

He keeps his hand and scomp at the sides of your breasts, caressing your warm skin with his thumb. He doesn't feel the need to go further, as he doesn't want to objectify you, he doesn't want to take your innocence away. But he is touching sensitive skin and you let out another moan, your eyebrows wrinkling again, this time out of pleasure.

He's never seen your face this expressive before, and it feeds his excitement. He wants to get closer to you, and in a sudden, abrupt movement, he sits up straight, supporting his body with his socket-arm. You open your eyes in surprise and find his face just centimetres from yours. Your noses brush, your lips almost touching.

You continue your movements, and you notice the angle you find yourselves in is even more pleasing than before. Echo wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you close, your breasts against his chest. You put your hands on his back as you continue, your fingers sinking into his pale skin.

Your gazes keep locked as you quicken your pace, feeling your pleasure is reaching its climax. And Echo's too; he groans through clenched teeth, tightening his grip around your waist. You feel the muscles in his lower abdomen tighten. You moan from the tingling sensation you experience down below, and as you softly whisper his name in ecstasy, he releases all his tensions.

Still holding you, Echo falls backwards on your bed, taking you with him. When he lands on his back, you roll off him, to his right side. Your chests are heaving and you both are panting from your fusion, your intimacy. Your heads turn towards each other, and you both smile when your gazes meet again.

You start caressing his metal arm beside you. You would have liked to hold his hand, but it doesn't matter; this is Echo, and you love all of him.

…

PART IV | NIGHT

c. 19/18 BBY, Ord Mantell | Ord Mantell City

The evening has elapsed into the night, but your sense of time is gone. After your intimate get-together, Echo is still laying on his back on your bed, and you wish he could stay forever. You are curled around him, your leg arched around his pelvis, your head on his shoulder, your arm on his chest as you softly caress his skin and his cyborg parts you encounter on the way.

Eyes closed, he has his cheek pressed against the top of your head, his socket-arm wrapped around your upper body as he only focuses on your gentle touching and gentle breathing. He groans softly in content as you trace your fingertips over his skin.

“Why, er- why are you guys on the run?” you ask suddenly, in a soft and cautious way. The question has been on your mind for what seems like forever, and now that you've been this intimate with Echo, you finally have the courage to ask him.

He swallows as he slightly turns his head away from yours, his eyes opening and his gaze on the ceiling. “I really don't want to drag you into it,” he finally answers with a sigh. You heave yourself up slightly, your body still against his, but being able to look at his face.

“Echo, I'm worrying about you anyway. So I think it's only fair to me to know what I'm worrying about,” you shoot at him, and you're surprised by your own boldness. Echo looks at you, a smile appearing on his face as he thinks the same. “You're right, cyar’ika*.”

*cyar’ika = darling/sweetheart

“We're on the run from the Empire. We were soldiers of the Republic, but when the Imperials took control, well.. Let's just say we didn't part on good terms,” he finally tells you, a wry smile on his face. You're silent for a moment. As the war and the political takeover have had no impact on your personal life, you try to imagine how it must be for Echo, for his squad.

“What was the war like?” you ask in a whisper, so soft he almost missed it. Your head is still turned towards his face, but your gaze slides away. He looks back at you, and with his hand, he cups your chin, caressing your skin with his thumb.

“It was- it was both dreadful and.. And familiar, I guess,” he starts slowly, searching for the right explanation, being mindful to spare you from any details about the suffering and the losses. He wets his lips before continuing.

“We clones were created as soldiers for war, so there wasn't anything else for us. We were all brothers, fighting side by side, under the command of the Jedi. There was.. A lot of death and devastation, but we knew what our purpose was. We had each other.”

He pauses for a moment, his eyes blank as his gaze is unfocused. You want to comfort him, as it's clear to you he hasn't processed all the events during and after the war very well. But you lay still, as you feel there's more for him to tell. You don't want to interrupt him, distract him from finally speaking out his feelings, pouring his heart out.

His gaze returns to yours, as his hand shifts away from under your chin, and he wipes a lock of your hair behind your ear. He smiles for a very brief moment before continuing. “When the war ended, we lost our purpose, I guess. The war was awful, but at least we knew who we were, what we had to do. But when it ended and the Empire emerged, none of us really knew what was happening.”

You notice he's lost in thoughts again. He is thinking about Crosshair, now doing the bidding of the Empire. How they had to leave him, their brother, behind back on Kamino. How the squad had saved himself prior to those events, from the torture of his mind back at Skako Minor. How the Skakoans had experimented on him after the explosion at the Citadel. How he hadn't been around when Fives had needed him the most, how he had held 99 in his arms after his death. How he hadn't been able to save Hevy, Cutup and Droidbait, which seems an eternity ago now.

When you see tears forming in his eyes, you finally decide it's the right time to comfort him. You lean towards him, put your right hand on his jaw, and place the most tender, loving kiss on his forehead. You feel his grip around you tighten as he pulls you close. You wrap your arms around his neck and start cradling him, as silent tears run down his cheeks.

---

The night progresses with a lot more talking and comforting. Tonight, you have learned more about Echo and his squad than all the previous times you two met up combined. As Echo continues his experiences and confessions, you notice he's opening up to you, finally sharing details.

Although his stories are devastating and you had never imagined all this could happen to one person in only a couple of years, you love listening to his voice, as your naked bodies lay pressed against each other in a loving embrace. Your head is positioned on his chest, as it slowly rises and falls with every breath he takes.

You wish he could stay forever, just the two of you in your humble abode, but you know he can't leave his squad behind. The Empire will keep looking for them, for Omega. And you know what that means; they can't stay on Ord Mantell forever. You knew this beforehand, before you got yourselves close with one another, but the thought is still devastating to you.

But after all of Echo's stories and explanations, you understand. You finally have a better view of the galaxy beyond Ord Mantell, the advantages and the flaws of the Clone Wars, and how the Empire currently reigns with terror and oppression. Something is rotting in this galaxy, but there are still people out there trying to fight it, to fight for the good, for the well-being of the galaxy's citizens.

---

When the morning breaks, you know by the gut-wrenching feeling inside you it's time for Echo to go. He has to meet up with his squad to discuss their next step, to prepare their next mission, and you know he can't let them down. He won't let them down.

You slide into something comfortable and watch him get back into his blacks and armour. The easiness of his movements tells you he's done it a hundred times. A smile appears on your face, but there is sadness in it as well; you hate to see him leave.

At your front door, you both take the time to prolong the moment, to delay his inevitable departure. Your lips melt together in a passionate kiss one last time. You hug each other tightly, before moving apart reluctantly. You look each other in the eyes, taking everything in one last time, to never forget the moments you shared together.

“Thank you, cyar’ika*,” Echo whispers, before he presses his forehead to yours. You swallow, and after you both pull away, you finally ask: “What does that mean?” An affectionate smile appears on his face, his eyes somewhat sad but incredibly thankful for what you've given him. “That you mean the galaxy to me.”

*cyar’ika = darling/sweetheart

…

Epilogue

You don't know if you will see him again after this, but he has given you something. He ignited a spark inside you, as you now are fully aware there is more in this galaxy, more than just Ord Mantell City. He has given you the courage to free yourself from this place, even if that means diving into the unknown. But you are ready now.

Echo taglist: @covert1ntrovert