#just use the link to read the first chapter and the previous fic in the series

[mintmatcha]

Inevitable Things: chapter six

Aizawa x reader fic

cw: cisfem reader, no quirks, office au, miscommunications, slow burn. full tags available on AO3 (linked in masterlist)

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Fridays are also the only day where you don’t go directly home after work. Instead of catching the late night Orange line, you snag the Blue and take it down, down, down, right out of the city and it’s the almost surreal serenity of the suburbs. Street lights and cars turn into trees as the sun dips low. Only the ambient sounds of your music and the wheels on the tracks keep you company as you pass familiar stops, all the way to the end of the line.

From there, you walk: down the dark sidewalks, across the one lane roads, stopping only in the little diner along the way. It’s hours later when you finally make it to the doorstep. Before you can knock, the door is ripped open.

“You’re late.” The shortest woman you’ve ever seen stands there, hands on her hips and glasses shoved to the top of her nose bridge. Her scrubs are baggy, but clean, with the name of her service stitched on the pocket: UA Palliative. “I thought you were hit by a car.”

“Sorry, sorry.” you try to laugh her concerns off.

“And you’re sweaty.” Nurse Chiyo clicks her tongue at you as she hands you a face mask. “You should really let him send a car.”

A car would be faster, but you can’t justify someone footing that bill when your metro card has money on it. “The exercise is good for me.”

The woman scrunches her face and gestures to the bag you’re holding. The bottom of the brown paper is practically see through with grease. In the other, you have two styrofoam cups, taken from the diner down the road. “And that food is good for you too?”

“It’s a friday treat.”

“Just don’t feel bad if he’s not hungry,” she sighs with the weight of someone who knows. “Towards the end, the appetite tends to dwindle.”

You slip on your face mask and slip off your shoes. Toshinori Yagi’s home drips with old money; subtle detailing mixed with hints of extravagance, it's the air of wealth with none of the gaudiness. The halls are sparsely decorated, only the occasional artwork and statue to keep you company as you walk to the back of the home, past the luxurious, yet almost never used kitchen and through the abandoned living room. There, in the middle of it all, hangs an oversized picture of Yagi back in his acting days.

If it was anyone else, it might seem egotistical, but the man on the wall might as well be a completely different man, a Yagi from another universe. Bound solely in brightly colored latex, this Yagi grins ear to ear, flexing an obscenely thick bicep for the camera. The Hollywood cameras and actors are a blur in the background. It’s from the set of his first All Might movie-- the one you’ve seen hundreds of times. The longer you stare, the more jagging it is. At 55, Yagi is twice the man that he was in his twenties, but a quarter of the size. All of the important pieces are there -his smile, his laugh, his energy- but there’s a part of him, always locked away in a time where this picture was taken.

You press on into the study. This room is a stark contrast from the rest of the house; it’s cluttered, all flat surfaces stacked with magazines and printed articles. Coloring pages litter the floor, in between broken crayons and pencils.

In between it all is a stick of a man, dirty blonde hair buzzed short enough you can see the shape of his skull. He’s pouring himself over some reading, tired eyes tracing the page with a monotonous haze. He’s lost weight again; you can see it in the sharp dip of his cheeks.

“Happy Friday.” You rap on the door frame and he jolts up in surprise. Hand over heart, he laughs in delight, even though he knew you were coming. “How are you?”

“I thought-” He inhales. You can’t remember all of the details of what’s happened to him, but you know one of his lungs is practically nonfunctional and the other struggles keeping up. “You’d be celebrating your birthday.”

“You remembered.”

“Of course.” He pushes up to stand, but you wave him back down. “You should be. Out with friends.”

“I’m happy where I am, sir.” You place everything on the table in front of him and then retreat to your side, your drink still in hand. Once you’re far enough away - six feet- you take off your mask. “Chocolate Peanut Butter shake and extra crispy fries, just for you.”

It’s his favorite. No, it doesn’t have the nutrition he should be getting, but… well, he’s going to die no matter what. Let the man have a fucking milkshake. He takes it in both hands, like he’s cradling an award or a piece of gold.

The first time cancer struck him, Toshinori Yagi decided to leave acting and do something with his money. He didn’t have a family to take care of -- and his sister is independently wealthy-- so he invested in medical technology. He hired a team that knew better than him, put some of them through school, and grew a rather successful business from the ground up, no formal training of his own. Now, ironically enough, he’s wealthier than ever, and still pouring it into product development.

“You do too much.” He picks the darkest fry of the group and crunches down on it.

It’s the least you can do. Isolation is taxing; you don’t mind sacrificing a bit of time and $19.76 for a quick meeting and meal. You settle down in your usual spot- a fluffy velvet chair in the corner of the room- and take a long sip from your own drink.

“How are things with Shouta?”

You choke so hard it goes up your nose. How did he know? Did the interns figure it out and pass along the word to the whole office? How are you going to explain to your boss that you’ve sexted his colleague? Or did Aizawa tell him? Oh, what if he shared those pictures--

“Wh-what about him?”

Yagi gives you a strange, tired look, brow knitted with a kind concern. “You called me- about his employee?”

You physically sigh with relief; no one knows. Everything is good; you need to stop panicking. Aizawa won’t share the pictures; it’d ruin his career faster than it’d ruin yours. Besides, he’s apparently embarrassed of you, so why would he even show you off? “Oh, well, everything’s good. Kaminari is back in the office.”

Your boss chews a single fry for a long while. A melancholic twang stirs inside you. No, you haven’t known him as long as some people, but over the years you’ve gotten attached. He’s a fair man, a good one too. Watching him waste is… it’s hard. Plain and simple. On the books, you say that you visit for work, but it’s honestly a social call, something to quell your worries.

“He wasn’t very happy when-- I called,” Yagi draws in from his nasal tube as he talks sometimes and it cuts his words short.

“Yeah, I know.” That’s an understatement. You chew on your straw as you try to decide how to respond. “Aizawa had some choice words for me afterwards.

The look on Yagi’s face tells you that he already knew that. Word always makes it back to the big boss one way or another; even sick, he always has his fingers in every pie.

“Don’t let him-” He runs out of breath in a weird spot. “Push you around. He’s a strong personality.”

That’s an understatement too. You wish you could stomp your feet and demand for his removal, but unfortunately Aizawa is very, very good at his job. Besides, you don’t especially want him fired. Maybe just… a series of paper cuts everyday for the rest of his life. Or that his train never comes on time. Nothing serious.

“Trust me- I won’t.” You throw an arm up and flex. “I can put up a fight.”

“No fighting.” The man tries to give you a stern look, but it just looks a bit silly. As demanding as it sounds, it's like being scolded by a grandfather; there’s too much affection between you for anything to feel threatening. “Don’t wage any wars in my office.”

“No promises!” you tease. “Ready to go over reports?”

He smiles back, those hollow cheeks pulling into tiny apples. “Of course.”

…

It’s late when you finally make it home. Yagi had forced you into a car, calling it a birthday gift, and the drive was long and quiet. The driver turned on some soft music, songs with the tinkle of piano, and you almost dozed off by the time he rolled into your apartment complex.

You kick your heels off and strip out of your work clothes as you enter your apartment, letting everything stay where it falls. In the wake of Touya, your place is pretty much empty, with the carpet still pressed in spots where lamps and tables used to be and a jammed lock that won’t click closed. The less time you spend here, the better. You throw yourself onto the couch -something too big to take, apparently- and flick on the television. The usual mindless garbage you like is already on; perfect background noise as you play on your phone.

There’s nothing super new going on. Couple of group chat notifications. Nemuri had texted you to check in-- so did Hizashi. And-

Aizawa’s unopened messages stare at you. There’s no reason to read those texts, right? It’s just mindless sex talk. In fact, he probably doesn’t want you to ever see those texts again.

…Unless he said something important. Maybe he had told you to play dumb at work! Oh, that would open its own can of worms, but at least it would explain why he said to forget everything-

Wait, that wouldn’t make sense. You two were alone at that point. He could have been normal or said something like ‘wow, love your tits!’ or--

Ugh. He wouldn’t say that! Ugh!

You pull on your messaging app again. You need to get this over with.

-> I bet you looked so pretty when you came.

The preview still makes your skin prick with unwanted excitement. The lust nipping at your ankles isn’t easy to ignore as you tap the button and open the conversation. The immediate visage of your words, your drunken musings and flirtations, makes you physically cringe. Luckily, the new messages take up enough space to keep you from seeing your own nude visage.

The first response hits you like a truck.

-> Do you have any idea what I’d do to lick your fingers clean? What I’d do to smell your perfume on your skin?

The thrum of your heartbeat goes funny for just a flash of a moment and you have to shake off any semblance of arousal. No-- you do not like this. There’s absolutely nothing sexy about that thought! You don’t want the warmth of his tongue or the tickle of his breath against your pulse point, or that little bit of scruff against your lips-

The video is below the first message. It’s paused on an out of focus still, but you can make out the golden touched skin of his stomach and the blur of hand. Heat flickers in your core at that, but you tense your legs and try to ignore it.

Get yourself together. It’s just a fucking jerk off video. You scroll right by it.

-> Look at what you do to me. It’s all for you.

There’s a couple of minutes between that text and the final one.

- >I think you fell asleep. Talk in the AM.

And… that’s it. Nothing else.

That told you nothing, other than the fact that Aizawa Shouta is just like any other man: a horny freak. A sexy, amazing texter of a freak, but still a freak regardless! When you move, you can feel the wetness between your legs spread against your pussy lips.

You turn over and try to focus on the medical drama that’s onscreen. Ugh. Ugh! You're over this man and his fucking bipolar attitude and his work bullshit and his, his, his….

The click on the wall ticks away.

His kind of alluring demeanor.

You turn back to your phone. Maybe the video has an answer. Yeah.

The volume on your phone thrums with audio, low and deep, when you click the image. It takes you a second to realize it’s a groan- unabashed and loud- and you swear it resonates deep down into your own lungs.

This video is aimed a bit higher than the other and is shot from farther away, probably resting on a desk from the looks of it. It feels silly that you ever confused him with Touya. Shirt clutched between his teeth, Aizawa’s skin is a deeper color, completely untattooed, and his chest is filled out with weight. A broad, thick hand is white knuckle tight around his cock, glazed and dripping with wetness. It’s thick, oh god, it’s thick, and he’s holding it so tightly that it must hurt. Your jaw aches at the sight of it. Everything about him is wide//, from his cock to his thighs to his slightly soft middle.

A bead of precum rolls from his tip as he slowly drags his hand up and back down. His entire body jumps and twitches with the sensation, a red blush tickling down his chest and another moan on his lips, muffled by the fabric of his black shirt. He makes the same sound again, this one softer, almost affectionate--

And you realize something that feels like a punch to the gut.

He’s saying your name.

Heat flushes your body. Oh, you can barely breathe out of fear you’ll miss something. With a high, tight sound, Aizawa’s body goes stiff, but his cock kicks as he comes undone. Spend splatters down his chest and onto his black shirt, pearl string after pearl string. Just like everything about him, it’s too much.

And then the video ends.

You digest this for a long moment. Then, you watch it again. And a third time.

There's a tremor in your hands as you put your phone down. Okay, that didn't give you any information, but it- well-

Fuck, it was hot. Really fucking hot. Unfortunately, terribly, awfully, horrendously hot. You want to scream and kick and rub your clit just a little, because all you need is a little friction and you'll cum for him again--

No. You can't give that victory to him, not again. Even if Aizawa will never know about it, the universe will.

You grip the remote and turn up the television's audio, trying to shift your focus on to the interpersonal drama on the screen. You’re stronger than this. The little thing between your legs does not dictate your behavior!

You don’t jack off that night.

Or the following night.

Or the following.

No, you resist. You punish yourself for even entertaining the idea of cumming to the idea of him again.

Monday morning you are unsurprisingly cranky when you settle into your desk. Kicking off your shoes and booting up your computer, you stretch in your chair and try to pop the kink in your shoulder. Thirty must be catching up with you, because you didn’t sleep well all weekend. Every muscle in your back is bunched, but the little bits of movements seems to be helping-

“Jesus fucking christ, I'm sweating through my fucking shirt.”

Bakugo's accent slips out as he gripes, pulling his shirt collar away from his neck as he walks. It’s easy to forget that he and Izuku grew up in the same hometown, but when he’s genuinely pissed, that homecooked Southern twang comes out. You look up to see what's gotten him so aggravated before nine. Sweat dampens his hair and glitters his skin. Oh, and he's right, that white shirt is absolutely clinging to his middle, into that tight, tiny, toned, slutty little waist of his--

Oh, god. You slam your foot into the edge on your desk in hopes the pain douses whatever horny monster had overtaken you. Is this just life now? Practically drooling over every man with a pulse? Bakugo Katsuki is gay and very much not your type-

“You okay?” Izuku gives an awkward laugh. He and Denki are apparently right behind Bakugo, equally worn. Well, almost equally. Denki doesn't seem to be sweaty at all, despite his puffing. “You're like, making this weird face.”

Shit. Quick-- lie. “Cramps.”

“Damn, hate that,” Kaminari grips his stomach in sympathy. The other guys share an uncomfortable glance.

“So-” You change the topic. “Why are you guys..?”

“The elevator is shot.” Bakugo hooks a thumb behind him towards the stairs. “Had to carry this fuck ass bed up to the fifth floor for that meeting today.”

The investor meeting: even though Toshinori Yagi is wealthy, the newest bed prototype still needed outside funding. These fine millionaires require occasional proof that their money is being used well, so once a quarter they get jammed into the nicest room in the building and get a rather boring lecture from the important department heads. You usually sit in and try not to nod off when Enji starts in with the accounting information.

“The entire elevator?” You lean back in your chair and try to see. Sure enough, some technician is fumbling away at the buttons. “No one tell the ADA.”

“Actually, the ADA is a law, not a governing body,” Izuku chirps. “It's enforced by the DOJ, EEOC, and, oddly enough, the DOT-”

“How do you know this shit?” Denki says.

“Healthy curiosity,” Izuku tries to say.

“‘cause he's a fucking genius.” Bakugo says at the same time, louder and more confident. “Using that big head of his all the time.”

Izuku touches his temples with a concerned frown. “You think my head is big?”

“Massive.” Bakugo elbows his lover, all saccharine smiles. “It works for me though.”

Kaminari snorts and the other blonde throws him an icy glare.

“What? You gonna make a joke about massive head?”

Kaminari throws his hands in the air and rolls his eyes, surprisingly annoyed at the jab. “I was going to joke about his head working for you, but whatever! Ruin my fun.”

“As much as I love head jokes-” you interject. “I do need to get work done.”

Kaminari turns to you with the sweetest of smiles, so syrupy that everyone else recoils a bit with suspicion. “Like what?”

“Getting everyone’s powerpoints together, printing out our reports, putting those reports into actual human words and not engineering garbage, greeting our guests-- blah, blah, blah.” Just talking about it makes your head ache. “Plus the other daily reports and---- Kaminari, no.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to ask!”

“You were going to ask me to do your work again!” you say.

“Come on, please?” He puffs his bottom lip out like a kicked dog. “I have to leave early this week and -”

“Denki, you’re so fucking stupid.” Bakugo groans. He starts to leave and the other two follow behind. “I'm too tired for your shit today.”

“There’s a gay joke hidden in there.”

“I'm going to report you to fucking HR.”

“See you at lunch?” Izuku asks from over his shoulder. You shake your head-- you’ll probably just sneak one of the forgotten italian ice cups from the freezer when no one’s working. There’s so much to do and not quite enough time.

--

You’re solving that little frozen treat into your mouth when Aizawa makes his appearance. It’s strange to see him so late in the day; pure embarrassment must be keeping him away. His usual sunny yellow sweatshirt means you can’t even pretend not to see him when he rounds the corner.

Aizawa is as he always is; a bit scruffy and properly annoyed. His expression is neutral, if not a bit sour, but the crinkle in his brow is tighter than ever. The bunch to his shoulders only gets higher when he spots you.

This is really the guy that's been tearing you apart? Really? Why couldn't you have fallen for Hizashi or Enji or-- anyone else that isn't wearing a neon hoodie in the office.

“You should really take a proper lunch.” Those deep bags under his eyes are darker than usual, almost purple; he must be drained, but he’s been avoiding the coffee machine. A twang of sympathy hits you-- lack of caffeine might actually kill the guy.

When he walks towards you, you're reminded of how pretty he is, even without proper sleep. High cheekbones, smooth olive tone skin-

Your fighting spirit almost fades, but the post it note taped to your monitor catches your eye. Be mean. Yes, that's right.

“Well, uh. What do you want?” Your tone is a bit snappy.

His eyebrows twitch up in momentary surprise, but Aizawa recovers quickly.

“The elevator won’t be fixed until tomorrow.” He raps his knuckles against the wood once. “Move the investor’s meeting from the top floor.”

“Say please.”

Aizawa is half turned and midstride when he realizes what you said. He looks back at you, brow knit.

“Excuse me?”

“I said.” You hit the spacebar with a bit too much force. “Say please.”

“I-” You expect him to fight or argue, but he just sighs, hands on his hips in defeat. “You're right. I'm sorry, I shouldn't demand things. Can you please move the investor’s meeting from the top floor down to the ground floor? Thank you.”

That was more sincere than you expected. Your stiff upper lip almost wobbles. Almost.

“No.”

He gives you the most deadpan stare you’ve ever seen. “What do you mean, no?”

“I said no.” You push back from the desk and let your wheeled chair roll away. “There’s no reason to move it. The room upstairs is already set up for the meeting-- full demo bed included. I’m not moving everything.”

A muscle tightens in his jaw. Seems like that good attitude is on a short fuse. “There's a second demo. I'll have the boys wheel it into the meeting room on this floor-”

“It’s a less finished model though, right?”

“That's…” Aizawa huffs. You know you’re right and so does he. “Yes. Sure. A less complete model, but it’s still leagues ahead of what they saw last time- ”

“We shouldn’t use it.” You have no right bossing him around, but you try to embody Bakugo and his cunt-like behavior. “They are going to see the best we have to offer. Besides, the fifth floor meeting room is bigger and nicer-- and it's already set up.”

“I-” He leans forward, arms crossed on to your desk. It’s not threatening, but rather humble, as he meets your eye. The silver healed skin of his scar catches the light differently than the rest of his face. “It’s four full flights of stairs.”

“And you can walk.”

A beat passes. Then another. Aizawa stares at you, dark eyes hooded with exhaustion.

“I have never, ever thought of you as a cruel person.” He doesn’t blink the entire time he speaks, deep, endless black eyes boring into yours. “But time and time again, you show me that side of you. “Well-” You don’t blink either. “I’ve always thought you were awful.

“Fuck you,” he grits out, quiet but with an edge. His lips are curled so high you can see his gum line.

You should let it die here. Let him walk away. Escape with your dignity.

But your teeth and tongue are sharp, and the look on his face is only sharpening their edges, so follow the instinct and go in for the kill. As you stand, you lean on to your hands and push yourself face to face to Aizawa. Unabashed, unafraid, unblinking.

“You wish you could.”

His face collapses. Then, it hardens again, even tighter and more disgusted than usual. The flat ridge of his nose is crinkled with a snarl, eyes narrowed so thin they're practically closed. When he pushes away to stand, Aizawa jams his hands into his sweatshirt and flexes his jaw, up and down like he's chewing on every insult and curse he wants to throw your way. He opens his mouth to speak, then closes it again with a deep exhale.

“Fine.” He says through closed teeth. “Fifth fucking floor.’

And with that, he turns and marches off back down the hall.

By the time you breathe again, you realize your hands are quaking. The adrenaline is still pumping through your veins, rushing your heart faster and faster. This must be how a marathon runner feels when they cross the finish line-- because this is victory.

Sorry, Yagi. War has been waged.

You did say no promises.

[genshinluvr]

Burning Desire 2 [Scaramouche's Route]

Pairings: Various Genshin Men x Isekai'd!Reader, Scaramouche x Isekai'd!Reader

Summary: After inhaling a large amount of aphrodisiac, you’re now struggling to hold yourself together. You're burning with desire and desperate to extinguish the fiery pit in your stomach. Still, you're hesitant about having one of your boyfriends help you with your problem. Who knew that the first person to “help” you with your problem would only make it worse for you by teasing you and calling you names.

Note: Before you read Scaramouche's route, I want to clarify that because Burning Desire is all pure smut (aside from the first part before the smut routes), the routes/chapters will be shorter than Crave. Crave has its own plot, whereas Burning Desire is a smut-fic where readers make the decision on who's route is going to be next after the first route. Crave will be way longer because every character/group will have their own plot compared to Burning Desire. This applies to all characters, not specific characters. I highly recommend reading the first part of Burning Desire (linked down below) first before reading the routes, but that is up to you! As previously stated in my previous smut-fics, I tried to keep the story as gender-neutral as possible. All of my smuts do lean towards female!reader/AFAB!reader with gender-neutral pronouns. As usual, minors DO NOT INTERACT! I don't post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and on AO3 (Aaliah_exo).

Warnings: Horribly written smut [as per usual], aphrodisiac, spitting, hair pulling, somewhat brat taming, spanking, doggy style, mating press, failed attempts of a dom!reader in one part, reader calls Scaramouche a good boy, oral (reader receiving), fingering, biting

Word Count: 5.5k

Burning Desire "chapters"/routes: [1], [2], [3], [4]

The door flies open, and Scaramouche stands at the doorway, smirking at you. You feel your heart drop in your chest. It’s not like you’re unhappy to see him. You know Scaramouche is going to enjoy teasing you until you break.

“Aw, look at you! So desperate and needy for someone to touch you,” You hear a familiar voice coo mockingly.

The throbbing between your legs continues to rage while you huff and cross your arms over your chest. Scaramouche steps into your room and slams the door behind him and in everyone’s faces.

You and Scaramouche hear Itto ask, “Did he just slam the door in our faces?”

“What? You want to watch Scaramouche and [Y/N] fuck each other’s brains out? Cause I don’t!” Childe huffs from behind the door.

“Let’s give them some privacy. It would be weird for us to hang around while Scaramouche tries to help [Y/N].... relieve their frustrations,” Tighnari clears his throat.

The twenty-three men grumble at Tighnari’s suggestion. Their footsteps slowly fade away, leaving you and Scaramouche in complete silence. You and Scaramouche stare at each other in silence, tension hanging above the two of you like the stars and moon. Scaramouche chuckles, walking toward you while you watch him warily. Scaramouche stops in front of you, squats to your eye level, tilts his head to the side and tips his hat back. 

A smirk appears on Scaramouche’s face. You look like a mess. Your pupils are blown wide, your skin is covered in a thin layer of sweat, and your chest is heaving with every heavy breath you take. You look so pathetic, so helpless, and so so cute. Scaramouche nearly burst out laughing just at the mere sight of your desperation. Scaramouche cups your face in his hands and squish your cheeks together, making your lips pucker.

Scaramouche leans in close to your face. “Do you know how pathetic you look right now?” Scaramouche whispers, his breath fanning your face.

You wince and pull your head out from his grasp, mentally cursing to yourself. If the damn aphrodisiac wasn’t affecting you this way, you would’ve wiped that shit-eating grin off his face. Scaramouche lets out a breathy chuckle and pulls away from you. Scaramouche takes his hat off and puts them on the edge of your bed, running his hands through his indigo hair while eyeing you with his indigo eyes.

You gulp and close your eyes, shaking your head. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, Scaramouche. I can wait for the aphrodisiac to wear off,” you whisper. 

Scaramouche lets out a loud “ha!” before standing up and brushing his clothes. “Don’t lie to me, now. I can see the burning desire and desperation in your eyes. Either let me help you with your problem or continue to suffer. Your choice!”

The aching between your legs continues to grow. Your body feels like it’s engulfed in flames. You’re so hot that you’re starting to drip in sweat. You push yourself off the ground, standing up. Your legs are shaking, and you barely have the energy to stand. So, you collapse on your bed beside Scaramouche’s hat, staring at the Inazuman man, your eyes going out of focus for a mere second.

Scaramouche watches the bead of sweat drip from your chin, landing on your white t-shirt. Your white is practically see-through because of the amount of sweat your shirt is soaking up. He can see the outlines of your breasts through the material and the areolas of your nipples behind the fabric your nipples are poking from behind.

You squeeze your thighs together tightly, hoping it’ll suppress the throbbing between your legs. Scaramouche huffs with amusement and walks toward the bed. Scaramouche stands at the end of your bed, staring you down. You wipe the sweat off your face with the back of your hand, looking away from Scaramouche.

“Scaramouche, please….” you whisper, body shaking with intense need. 

Scaramouche leans forward, cupping his ear with his hand. “What was that? I didn’t hear you. Can you say that louder?” Scaramouche asks, laughing to himself. 

You scowl at Scaramouche and give him the middle finger. Scaramouche snorts, leaning against your bed. Even when you desperately want to get rid of the burning need between your legs, you can’t stand Scaramouche and his shit-eating grin. As much as you want to shut him up, you’ve been immobilized by the aphrodisiac. 

Scaramouche shakes his head, clicking his tongue. “That’s not nice of you to treat me that way. Especially when I volunteered to help you with your,” Scaramouche trails off, grabs hold of your ankles, and pulls you toward the edge of the bed, “problem.”

Scaramouche smirks and cages you against your bed with his arms beside your head with one knee on your bed. Scaramouche leans down until his forehead is pressing against yours. The two of you look into each other’s eyes, not saying a word. Your heart is drumming against your chest. You involuntarily breathe in Scaramouche’s scent, feeling yourself melt against your bed. Scaramouche smirks, cups your jaws in his hands, tilt your head back, and press his lips against the side of your neck.

You gasp, feeling Scaramouche’s soft, warm lips pressing up against the base of your neck. Scaramouche tangles his hands in your hair, peppering kisses up and down your neck, occasionally sucking on your neck. You close your eyes, bite your quivering lips, clutching onto his shirt tightly. You can feel Scaramouche smirk against your neck. He kneels on the bed above you, continuing to do what he’s doing.

He smells so intoxicating that your mouth nearly waters when you breathe in his shampoo. Every touch and squeeze light flames upon your heated skin. Scaramouche trails his lips down further on your neck, reaching your collarbone. You suck in a deep breath and choke on your breath when Scaramouche bites on your collarbone.

“Ah! Scaramouche!” You whimper, your chest pressing up against his when you arch your back.

Scaramouche unlatches his lips from your collarbone and smirks down at you. You stare up at Scaramoche in a lustful daze, your mouth slightly agape, your tongue peeking out from your lips. Scaramouche sticks his thumb into your mouth, catching you by surprise. You look at Scaramouche with wide eyes, unsure of what to do other than to suck on his thumb. 

“You filthy little thing,” Scaramouche teases, leaning down to kiss and suck your jaws. “Such a needy, filthy slut,” Scaramouche laughs, pressing his thumb on your tongue.

You narrow your eyes in response and lightly bite down on his thumb. Scaramouche pauses and pulls away from you, staring at you blankly before taking his thumb out from your mouth. You and Scaramouche stare at one another. The corner of your lips quirks up while he narrows his eyes at you and pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue.

“You know….” Scaramouche trails off, his hands sliding up to your hair. “For someone as needy as you, you sure act like a brat.” Scaramouche hisses, tangling his fingers beneath your hair and tugging on it, pulling your head back with a forceful tug.

You gasp at the feeling. “Oh, fuck,” you moan.

Scaramouche leans into your ear. “If you continue to act like a brat, then I’m going to treat you like one, do you understand?” Scaramouche whispers, biting on your earlobe. 

You look at Scaramouche from the corner of your eyes, batting your eyelashes. “Who? Me? Acting like a brat? I would never!” You say, feigning innocence. 

Scaramouche narrows his eyes and pushes you back against your bed. You let out an ‘oof’ when you land on your back. You prop yourself up with your arms and watch Scaramouche hop off your bed and kneel in front of where you’re lying. Scaramouche eyes your sleep shorts, shaking his head and “tsking” softly as if he’s scolding you. 

Scaramouche drags out a sigh, his indigo eyes flickering up to you. “Soaked through your pants, I see. That’s a shame,” Scaramouche mocks. 

He grabs the band of your sleep shorts before ghosting his fingers over the prominent wet patch on your shorts. You jolt when you feel Scaramouche press the pad of his thumb against the damp patch. You whimper and attempt to grab his hand, only for him to slap your hand away.

Scaramouche grabs your shorts bands and tugs at them until your shorts are off, leaving you only in your panties. 

You shiver and attempt to cover yourself. Scaramouche grabs both your wrists and pins them to your stomach with one hand while lightly rubbing the damp patch on your panties. Scaramouche licks his lips and touches the small bump beneath your panties. You jolt again when you feel Scaramouche touch your engorged bundle of nerves through the fabrics of your panties. 

“And you said you didn’t want my help,” Scaramouche snorts, shaking his head.

You huff and look away, face turning hot. “I didn’t. I would rather wait for the aphrodisiac to wear off,” you mutter.

Scaramouche looks at you with amusement. “Oh? Is that so?” Scaramouche asks, slipping his fingers underneath the band of your panties. “It’s okay to feel this way. It’s not like you can control it anyway.” 

Your face continues to feel hot. Scaramouche loops his index fingers around the side of your underwear and pulls your panties off. You nearly hiss when cool air hits your damp core and try to close your legs, but Scaramouche slaps the inside of your thigh. You yelp and rub the tender area with the tip of your fingers. 

Scaramouche tosses your panties behind him and releases your hands from his grip. Scaramouche grabs your hips and pulls you to the edge of the bed until your ass is hanging off the edge of the bed.

“You said you didn’t want me to help you, but you’re so wet you’re practically dripping,” Scaramouche says, swiping his fingers up through the wetness between your folds.

You grumble and cover your face with your hands. “Stop trying to humiliate me!” You grumble.

He rolls his eyes and licks his fingers. “I’m not. Quit whining.” Scaramouche snorts.

You open your mouth to retort but are cut short when Scaramouche latches his mouth onto your dripping wet heat. Your back arches and your legs are spread apart on the bed, giving Scaramouche full access to your dripping core.

Scaramouche has an iron grip on your thighs, leaving finger marks on your thighs. Scaramouche swirls and swipes his tongue on your core while you writhe beneath him. The sound of slurping and your whimpers fill the once-silent air in your room. Scaramouche throws one of your legs over his shoulders, bringing you closer to him. Scaramouche’s teeth scrape against your swollen bundle of nerves, making you gasp and tense in his grasp. 

You reach forward and grab Scaramouche’s indigo hair, tangling your fingers in his soft hair. You grit your teeth, feeling your eyes roll to the back of your head the more Scaramouche laps at your throbbing core.

You let out a whine. “Scaramouche! Just fuck me already, dammit!” You pull at his hair.

Scaramouche scowls at you and pulls away, licking your juices off his face before slapping your throbbing core. You hiss and release his hair, feeling your entrance clench over nothing. Scaramouche stands and begins to slowly strip his clothes off in front of you. 

You watch the fabrics and small accessories pool around him on the ground. Scaramouche is left in his boxers before he steps toward the bed. Scaramouche smirks when you give him a questioning look. Scaramouche flips you over on your stomach and forces you to get on all fours.

SMACK!

“Ow! Scaramouche! What was that for!?” You shriek, placing your hand over the area where Scaramouche slapped you.

Scaramouche doesn’t answer your question. Instead, he continues to spank your ass while you’re writing and trying to get away. After what felt like hours, Scaramouche finally stops slapping your ass. You lay on the bed, whimpering and clutching your possibly swollen asscheeks. You’re sure Scaramouche left hand prints on your ass. Dear archons, your ass is stinging so much from the number of slaps Scaramouche had given your butt cheeks. Damn him and that shit-eating grin on his face. 

Scaramouche flips you over on your back, caging you in his arms. Scaramouche crashes his lips against yours. Your and his teeth clash against each other while he tangles his fingers in your hair, pushing your legs apart. You subconsciously spread your legs, intertwining your fingers in his hair. Scaramouche takes the opportunity to slip two fingers into your wet heat, catching you off guard.

You let out a choked gasp and broke the kiss between you and Scaramouche. You grip both of Scaramouche’s biceps, digging your nails into his arms. You groan and tense up the deeper Scaramouche’s fingers go into you. Scaramouche continues to insert his index and middle finger inside of you until he’s knuckles deep inside your entrance.

Your eyebrows are furrowing, your mouth agape in an ‘o,’ eyes bleary with lust. Scaramouche smirks and slowly pulls his fingers out before slamming them back inside. Your entire body tenses up, and a mix of moans and whines escapes from you. Scaramouche uses his thumb and digs the nail into your bundle of nerves. You grit your teeth, gripping your bedsheets with tight fists. 

“Why can’t you just fuck me already instead of tormenting me?” You ask through clenched jaws. 

Scaramouche feigns innocence. “Because it’s fun seeing you writhe beneath me, beg me to fuck your brains out, and cry out my name until you become frustrated,” Scaramouche replies.

“Scaramouche, I swear, if you don’t fuck me right now, I’m going to find someone else to do it instead,” you hiss, attempting to sit up.

Scaramouche clicks his tongue and pulls his fingers out from your core, making you tense up momentarily. Scaramouche shoves his index and middle finger into your mouth, nearly choking you. 

“Suck.”

You narrow your eyes at Scaramouche. As much as you want to bite his fingers out of spite, you just want him to fuck you already until the firey pit in your stomach is gone. So, you complied and began to suck and lick his pointer and middle fingers, tasting your juices that coated his fingers. 

Scaramouche shoves his fingers farther back, the tips of his fingers touching the back of your throat. You gag around his fingers, your eyes watered, and you glare at him through the tears in your eyes. Scaramouche snickers and pulls his fingers out of your mouth.

“What? Don’t give me that look! You should be grateful that I’m going to be fucking you until you can barely walk,” Scaramouche says nonchalantly.

You lie on your back and close your eyes, wiping the stray tears that made their way down your cheeks. You hear clothes rustling and falling to the ground. Damn him, and damn him for being the first one to volunteer to help you with your problem. Why couldn’t it be Heizou instead? At least Heizou wouldn’t be teasing the hell out of you until you break. Actually… Heizou would probably do the same, but he would be more gentle, unlike the indigo-haired male standing before you.

You’re pulled out from your thoughts when Scaramouche is now looming over you, one arm propping himself up beside your head. You watch Scaramouche grab his erect cock with the other hand. Scaramouche pumps his cock a few times with his fist and taps the mushroom tip of his cock against your folds after pushing your legs apart with his knees. You bite your lips with anticipation, letting out a pathetic whimper when Scaramouche rubs his cock up and down your spread legs.

You grit your teeth and dig your nails into the palm of your hands, trying your best to be patient when you know your patience is about to snap at any moment. Scaramouche lines the bulbous tip of his cock in front of your entrance and looks at you through his lashes. Scaramouche teases your entrance by rubbing his dick up and down your folds, lightly brushing against your bundle of nerves.

You whine and lightly pound your fist against his chest. “Scaramouche! Please, just fuck me already! I can’t wait any longer!” You whine.

Scaramouche pushes himself off of you and grips your neck with one hand while the other remains on his hardened cock. Without warning, Scaramouche shoves his cock inside of your awaiting, dripping heat. You gasp and feel your entrance tighten around Scaramouche’s cock. You wrap your legs around Scaramouche’s waist, thighs clenching while he slams the rest of his cock inside of your throbbing entrance. 

Scaramouche clenches his jaws. “Relax, will you?” Scaramouche grunts, grabbing the plush of your thighs and shoving them apart before he buries his dick to the hilt.

You whimper and wrap your arms over his shoulders, clawing at his back. “I’m trying! It hurts!” You whine while digging your nails deep into his back.

“It’ll only hurt more if you continue to tense up like this!” Scaramouche growls, pressing his hips against yours and staying still. 

You pant, tilting your head back against your pillow, feeling your eyes roll to the back of your head. Your thighs are beginning to feel sore, but it doesn’t hurt as much as your entrance does. You feel so full, so, so full. Scaramouche blindly reaches for your legs and pushes them up against your chest, folding you in half.

You unintentionally let out a loud moan, feeling the tip of his cock touching the deepest part of your insides. Scaramouche lays on top of you, his arms caging you between his body and your bed. Scaramouche grabs your jaws and forces you to open your mouth. You look at Scaramouche through the lustful haze, your mouth wide open. Scaramouche spits into your mouth, catching you off guard.

He closes your mouth and thrusts forward. “Swallow,” Scaramouche demands.

You swallow Scaramouche’s saliva and open your mouth to show him. Scaramouche smirks and tangles his fingers in your hair before pressing his lips against yours. You slide your left hand up his back and to the back of his head, gripping his indigo hair while your right-hand reaches down and grabs him by the ass.

Scaramouche jolts, making his cock prod your cervix. Scaramouche breaks the kiss and looks down at you with an eyebrow raised. You bite your lips and stare at him, not saying anything. You pull him down and kiss his swollen lips again, lightly biting his lips and rolling your hips against his, sending pleasurable jolts down your and Scaramouche’s spine. 

Scaramouche slowly pulls his cock out from your heat, leaving only the tip of his dick inside you. Archons, you’re so wet. Scaramouche watches your juices slowly trail down your ass cheeks, his cock’s wet from your juice. Without warning, Scaramouche slams his cock back inside your hole. Your velvety walls clenched around his cock while you cried out with pleasure. 

You didn’t know why you expected Scaramouche to start thrusting into you slowly and letting you adjust to his size. Scaramouche hammers his cock in and out of you, making sure to hit your cervix over and over with every thrust.

“Slow down!” You squeal, your legs flailing over your head while Scaramouche continues to ram his cock in and out of you. 

Scaramouche ignores your pleas, continuously ramming his dick into your wet heat. The sound of skin slapping, squelching, moans, whimpers, and growls fills your bedroom. You squeeze your eyes shut out of embarrassment and bury your face into Scaramouche’s chest. Scaramouche suddenly pulls his cock out from your entrance. You whine in protest, blindly reaching for his cock. Scaramouche slaps your hand away, flips you over on your stomach, and puts you on all fours. He makes you arch your back and press your head against your pillow before landing a sharp slap on your ass cheeks.

Your squeal was cut short when Scaramouche lined his cock up against your dripping entrance. Scaramouche slams his dick into you, making you choke on your squeals. Scaramouche presses his chest against your back, reaching forward and squeezing your chest with both hands while pressing his hips firmly against your ass. You grab a fistful of your bedsheets while wrapping your right arm around your pillow, biting down on your pillow to muffle your moans.

“Taking my cock so well, like the slut you are,” Scaramouche chuckles, biting down on your shoulder.

You grunt when Scaramouche grinds his hips against yours, coating his pubic hair with your juices. You reach for Scaramouche’s hand, intertwining your fingers with his while your other hand continues to hold the bedsheets with a tight fist. Scaramouche chuckles, releasing your shoulder and burying his face into your neck.

Scaramouche pants against your ears, and his soft grunts and sighs fill your ears. Dear archons, you hate to admit that you love the sound of him sighing and grunting into your ears. Scaramouche latches his lips on your neck, nibbling on them while pistoning his cock in and out at a steady pace. You tilt your head back, resting your head on Scaramouche’s shoulders while he continues to ram his painfully erect cock in and out of you repeatedly. Your hands fly to Scaramouche’s hands and dig your nails into his arms. The sound of Scaramouche’s pants drowns out the sounds of your desperate moans and squeals.

Scaramouche presses his lips against your ears. “Where’s that attitude of yours, huh?” Scaramouche asks, breathing heavily into your ears. “Where.” Thrust. “Is.” Thrust. “It?” 

You scowl and shove him off you, his dick pulling out from your entrance. Scaramouche lands on his elbows and glares at you with lust clouding his vision. You get off your bed and huff, crossing your arms over your chest. You turn around and begin walking to your bedroom door without sparing Scaramouche a second glance.

Scaramouche calls out from behind you, “Where do you think you’re going?!”

You huff loudly and look over your shoulders. “Since you want to act so cocky, I’ll find someone else to satisfy me,” you said.

“Hey! Get your ass back here or else—”

“Or else what? If you want to fuck me so badly, why don’t you beg for it, hm?” You smirk.

Scaramouche growls. “I’m the one that’s supposed to be fucking your brains out and helping you with that problem of yours. You’re the one that inhaled that stupid aphrodisiac, not me!” Scaramouche glowers, getting off your bed and walking toward you.

You chuckle and shake your head, watching the indigo-haired man approach you. You have yet to cum, and yet you’re playing fire with fire. He can ditch you all you want and leave you hanging high and dry, craving for release, but you have plenty of options other than the man standing before you. Scaramouche wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you to his chest. You try to act nonchalant, but feeling Scaramouche’s erect cock pressing against your stomach is making you flustered. 

Scaramouche grabs your chin and tilts your head up to look at him. You scoff softly, turn your head to the side and gnaw on the inside of your cheek. Archons, you just want him to fuck the aphrodisiac out of you, but knowing Scaramouche, he’s going to make it hell for you. And he kind of did, even though he fucked you pretty well.

“I don’t know. You’ve been so mean to me this entire time! Why should I let you continue to bury your dick inside me, hm?” You ask, grabbing his red cock and gently squeezing and pumping them firmly. 

Scaramouche clenches his jaws, his eyes nearly rolling to the back of his head when you squeeze and rub the bulbous tip of his cock. Scaramouche rests his head on your shoulder, burying his face into your neck, breathing in your scent.

“Please,” Scaramouche says through clenched teeth. “Please let me fuck you.”

You hum to yourself, taking your hand off his throbbing member. “Alright, I’ll let you fuck me, only because you said please like a good boy,” you tease, squeezing his cheeks.

Scaramouche huffs and grabs your wrist and pulls you back to your bed. Scaramouche lays on your bed, yanking you on top of him. You straddle his hips and grab his red dick, lining it up to your entrance.

Scaramouche squeezes your hips with anticipation; his cheeks are almost as red as the tip of his cock. You giggle to yourself and slowly sink down on his aching cock. Your jaws drop, letting out a shaky sigh as you continue to sink further down on Scaramouche’s dick. Once Scaramouche is fully sheathed into your entrance, you grab your bed frame and start bouncing on his cock and grinding your swollen bundle of nerves against Scaramouche’s pubic bone. Scaramouche latches his mouth on one of your nipples and begins to suck, lick and lightly bite them while you’re on top of him, riding his cock like a desperate cock hungry whore that you are.

You bite down on your lips to keep your moans to a minimum. The sound of your hole squelching each time your thighs meet Scaramouche’s thighs is all you can hear other than your breathy moans and Scaramouche sucking on your nipples. Scaramouche places both his hands on the globes of your ass, squeezing your butt cheeks, occasionally slapping them while forcing you up and down on his painfully hard cock.

Scaramouche releases your nipple. “You’re a filthy slut, you know that, right?” Scaramouche pants. “Look at you, riding my cock like a cock hungry whore.” He laughs.

You reach for Scaramouche’s hair, grab it and tilt his head back. “You’re a shithead, you know that, right?” You ask, slamming your hips down on his cock. 

You hold back a moan when Scaramouche’s mushroom tip kisses your cervix. Scaramouche smirks at you, his lips quivering from the pleasure. Scaramouche opens his mouth to retort, but you press your lips against his lips to shut him up. Scaramouche releases one ass cheek and reaches in front to pinch and squeeze your throbbing bundle of nerves. You bite down on Scaramouche’s lips, nearly collapsing on him.

He takes that as an opportunity to flip you over on your back, hammering his cock into you in a frenzy. You grunt and wrap your legs tightly around his slim waist, dragging your nails down his back. Scaramouche presses his hips hard against yours that your eyes nearly pop out of your skull when the bulbous tip of his cock slams against your cervix. You roll your hips and ground your hips against his pubic bone. 

Your back arches, your head falls back on your bed, and you let out a string of moans. You feel a familiar tightness in your lower abdomen as he continues to force his cock in and out of your wet heat. You look down to where you and Scaramouche are connected, only to see your stomach bulging every time Scaramouche slams his cock back into your sopping wet heat. Your tongue lolls out of your mouth, saliva dripping down the side of your mouth while Scaramouche continues to shove his cock into you.

Scaramouche snorts. “You look stupid, you know that?” Scaramouche snickers, pressing his hips against yours.

“I’m about to cum,” You whisper breathlessly.

Scaramouche raises his eyebrows at you. “Then cum for me, you filthy slut. Cum all over my cock and scream my name so the others can know who’s the one that’s fucking your brains out,” Scaramouche demands, pulling your hair back and pistoning his cock into you.

While Scaramouche is slamming his hips against yours, you writhe beneath him. Your jaws are agape, letting out silent screams. Scaramouche grabs a handful of your chest and kneads at them, pinching your nipples while squeezing your breast. You close your eyes tightly, feeling the forming knot in your lower abdomen begin to feel even tighter. 

You hiss when Scaramouche grazes your nipple with his nail. You grab his wrist and dig your nails into his wrist, fueling Scaramouche’s thrusts. While pounding into your sopping-wet entrance, Scaramouche feels his impending orgasm. Scaramouche leans over you, grabs the edge of the mattress, and plunges his cock into you in a frenzy, chasing his release.

It happened so fast. You didn’t think the tight knot in your lower abdomen would snap so quickly the more the mushroom tip of Scaramouche’s cock kissed your cervix. The feeling of his cock sliding and rubbing against the walls of your entrance made you quiver and your legs tremble. Scaramouche bites down on your shoulders and shoots thick ropes of cum deep inside your quivering hole when he feels you clamping down hard on his cock and cumming around him.

You go limp on your bed and grunt softly when Scaramouche collapses on top of you. Scaramouche lets out a breathy chuckle before rolling off to the side while keeping his cock inside you, plugging his and your cum inside your sullied hole. You don’t know how long you and Scaramouche had gone at it, but you can still feel the fiery pit raging in the pit of your stomach. You and Scaramouche groan when he pulls his softened cock from inside you. You feel his and your cum oozing out from your hole. 

Scaramouche turns his head to look at you. “You’re quite needy, did you know that?” Scaramouche asks.

You scoff and roll your eyes at him, slapping his chest weakly. “Oh, please. As if you weren’t as needy as I was,” you grumble.

Scaramouche gulps a mouthful of air and props himself up. “Is it still in your system?” Scaramouche asks, collapsing back on your bed and closing his eyes.

You stare at him, watching his bare chest rise up and down from the rigorous activity. You pursed your lips, unsure of how to answer. If you were to tell him that the feeling of need and desire is still present, would he continue to assist you on your issue, or would he switch out with one of the other twenty-four men that are left?

You gnaw on your bottom lip and slowly nod. “Yeah, it’s still in my system, unfortunately. I can still feel it, but it’s not nearly as bad as it was before you, well, railed me into oblivion,” you reply.

Scaramouche sighs in defeat and closes his eyes, running his hands through his hair. “Dammit. Not only that, but you inhaled large amounts of that aphrodisiac as well. It’ll be in your system for who knows how long.”

“Unfortunately,” you mutter. 

Scaramouche lies beside you and wraps his arms around your bare torso, resting his chin on top of your head and closing his eyes. You reach to grab the blanket at the edge of your bed when you and Scaramouche hear a knock at your door.

“Are you two finished?” Albedo asks behind the closed door.

You huff and pull the blanket over your and Scaramouche’s naked bodies. “Yeah, we’re finished,” you answer.

“Is the aphrodisiac out of your system now? How are you feeling?” Baizhu’s voice is muffled from behind the door.

You shake your head, knowing the others can’t see it. You’re not sure how long aphrodisiacs remain in the human body once it’s ingested or inhaled. All you know is that you’re still horny, probably not as much as you were before Scaramouche railed you, but you’re still horny, and you can feel it. The fiery pit in your lower stomach has yet to be extinguished, and you’re not sure how many rounds you’ll have to go through for the aphrodisiac to wear off. 

You sigh shakily and reply, “It’s still in my system. I don’t know how much longer it’ll remain in my system for, Baizhu. It’s not nearly as bad as it was, and I’m still coherent, but….” you trailed off, closing your eyes.

“But….” Xiao asks.

You can almost hear him raise his eyebrows. Knowing Xiao, he’s standing in front of your closed bedroom door with his arms crossed over his chest, waiting for you to reply. You wouldn’t be surprised if the others were also standing in front of your door.

You look at Scaramouche, who sits up and rubs his eyes. “Might as well send in the next person. But let me remind you that none of you will fuck [Y/N] nearly as good as I did,” Scaramouche says proudly. 

Scarmaouhce puts on his clothes while you debate whether you should put your clothes on and clean yourself up or let the next person have their way with you as you are now. You get up from your bed and walk to your bathroom to quickly clean up and use the bathroom. After a few minutes of cleaning yourself up and using the bathroom, you step out of your bathroom. Scaramouche gives you a quick hug and kisses on your forehead before exiting your bedroom. Before the door fully closed behind Scaramouche, a hand grabbed at the wooden door to prevent it from closing. 

Note: I have no idea how to feel about this Scaramouche smut I wrote... let me know what you think because I'm always feeling iffy about every smuts I write and post on Tumblr and AO3. Ready for the second phase for the next route? Since Scaramouche's route has been written and posted, he is no longer part of the future options for Burning Desire. I wonder who's going to be the next route 🤔 Vote for the second route/third "chapter" [HERE]! As for taglist, Burning Desire will have its own taglist! Therefore, if you want to be tagged for the Burning Desire smut fics, click [HERE] for the taglist form! Please make sure to read the instructions carefully, or else I won't be able to tag you in future Burning Desire fics 🥹 Anyway, to my new and/or returning readers, please keep in mind that I ONLY post on my Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and my AO3 (Aaliah_exo)! Nowhere else except Tumblr and AO3!

Taglist for Burning Desire: [None currently, will add people once people start submitting their forms ^^]

Read more of my works on my Masterlist | Maybe support me by tipping me on Ko-Fi or by reblogging my fanfics! ^^ I will also be posting exclusive fanfics on Ko-Fi as well very soon! I might post all of my stories on there too, but who knows. You can also tip me on Tumblr if you'd like as a way to show support! ^^

[manicpixiedreamcurl]

The More You Give ❧ (Part VIII)

Pairing | Eddie x shy!reader Warnings | 18+ only. Do not interact if you are underage. Roleplay (PrincessxWannabe Usurper lmao), sexual fantasies (including rockstarxgroupie), Eddie says some weird possessive stuff but reader likes it, oral (M receiving), P in V sex, dom!Eddie, sexual guilt as per, there’s aftercare. Word Count | 10,400 A/N | Nobody ask me about the timeline of this story, either in the fic or how long it takes me to write it. Taglist Previous Chapter

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The air is stuffy, despite the growing chill outside. The last days of Summer are at least a week gone now, and with Autumn comes heated stores. An ABBA song is playing on the main floor, filtering through enough for you to make out the tune. It’s the sort of thing your Mom plays in the car all the time, your mind following the words even though you can’t quite hear them over the buzzing ceiling lights. 

I try to capture every minute, the feeling in it. Slipping through my fingers- 

The curtains pull back, the sound of metal over metal dragging you to full attention. May’s eyes are bright with excitement as she twirls, showing off how the strapless black dress fits around her waist and flares out at her hips. 

“It’s perfect, right?” She says, smoothing it down only to twirl and puff the skirt up again. “Ooh, let me see with the jacket.” 

You search through the bag at your feet for the cropped jacket she’d found earlier, then watch as she pulls it over her shoulders. She fluffs her hair and poses in the mirror at the end of the changing room hallway. “I mean it actually is perfect, right?”

“For sure, you can totally see who you are already.” 

“Right? And then I can just backcomb my hair a little. My Mom’s gonna lend me her scarf. God knows what earrings I’ll wear, but I can work it out. Definitely can’t get anything new after this,” she finishes, turning her head and pulling at the tag on her back to double check the price. She pulls a face before tucking it away gingerly.

“That bad?” 

“That bad. Even with 30% off.” May smooths her hands over the skirt again, turning once more to the mirror. Her smile lights up her pretty face. “But totally worth it.” 

Once the dress is folded and wrapped in tissue paper by the woman at the counter, paid for with what seems like every spare penny in May’s purse, attention moves to your costume. “Okay, Fairy God Mother,” May says, linking her arm with yours. “Game plan. Where do we need to go?”

“I think just the costume store. I have a blue dress I can use. But I’d like some wings and a wand. Maybe a tiara, if I can afford it.”

“Ugh, you’re gonna look so cute. Are you sure you don’t want to come to Tommy’s party?”

“The whole reason I’m dressing up is for Grace,” you reason, spotting the orange banner reading City of Fright, which appears in the same spot every year mid-September and vanishes November first. 

Gone are ABBA’s lilting tones, replaced with stock Halloween music, the occasional creepy laugh and thunder clap. The entire front of the store is complete costumes, wrapped up in plastic and hanging on metal rods, but once you reach the shelves at the back, you are surrounded by an array of vampire teeth, witches hats and face paints. 

“Eddie’s renting Theatre of Blood,” you tell her, not waiting for a reaction before launching into a prepared defence. “It sounds really good. It’s about an actor who takes revenge on his critics by murdering them like Shakespearian deaths - drowning in Malmsey wine, that kind of thing. He picked it cause, you know, he thought I’d like it.” 

“Okay, but she’ll be in bed by what? Eight?” May asks, wandering around the table of paraphernalia as you start thumbing through fairy wings piled next to fake blood bags, searching for the right blue. “You could come after.”

There’s a moment of silence, then she sighs softly. “Okay, I will say it’s kind of cute that he picked that. In a weird, not really that cute cause it’s a horror movie about gruesome murders, sort of way.” 

You stifle a grin, chancing a look at her over the table. “That sounded…almost like a compliment?”

“Almost,” she agrees, walking back round to your side. Then, before you can answer, she has seized a shiny silver plastic tiara and is reaching out to place it gently on your hair. “There. Fit for a Princess.”

You shake your head, laughing. “What about a Fairy Godmother?”

May hums, grabbing a set of the net and wire wings and pulling them over her arms. “I’m the fairy now!” She declares, raising her chin and going up on tiptoes to whirl around the racks, wings shaking behind her. “Here to make all your Halloween costume dreams come true!” 

Your heart warms, a giggle escaping as she peers curiously at the rubber masks and cat ears in character, mumbling about the strange habits of humans. 

“Oh please, fairy godmother! I need a wand if I’m going to look anything like the real thing!” 

“A wand, of course!” She cries dramatically. “No true fairy would be seen dead without their wand.” You watch her scurry on tip toe around until she comes to a display of wands of various colours, topped by stars and hearts, sequined tassels and glittery handles. She wiggles her fingers above them, picks out one with a simple silver star and travels back to you gracefully. You take it from her with a flourish. “There, and now your wings.” She helps you into your own pair, then turns and throws a graceful hand into the air. “Now, we fly!” 

You flit about after her, laughing at her with every pause she takes to frown disapprovingly at fake scars and rubber spiders. She stops in front of a Tinkerbell costume, pointing with a surprised smile at the model on the package. “Hey, I know her!”

You snort a laugh and it sets her off, all attempts to stifle your laughter only making it worse. Your giggles are only beginning to settle when you feel the sudden awareness of being watched tickle the back of your neck. 

“Uh, hi girls.” 

Your heart drops. Caroline stands, a hand over her mouth, barely covering the smirk. “You look like you’re having…fun.”

Suddenly, the clear elastic of the wings is too tight around your shoulders. You can feel the crooked angle of the tiara atop your head, close to slipping off entirely. The wand in your hand isn’t silver now, just chipped paint on plastic. 

Next to you, May is wrenching off her wings, laughing airily. “Just messing around,” she assures, folding them up and holding them with a tight fist at her hip. “You costume shopping?”

Caroline looks around at where you are. “I mean, obviously. Not for me, though, for Ethan,” she sighs. “You know boys, no interest in shopping.” She sets her stare on you, eyes scanning from the crooked tiara downwards. “Are you girls dressing up together?”

Your throat feels blocked, leaving you just to shake your head. May answers for you both. “No, no. Like I said, we’re just messing around. So we should probably put this stuff back.” She slides her wings into the space between some hanging masks before elbowing you into action. You’ve abandoned the tiara and wand and are in the process of sliding off the wings when she adds, coolly, “I’m actually going as Madonna.”

Caroline’s smirk falls, replaced at terrifying speed with a deep frown. “What? You can’t, I’m doing Madonna. I’ve got a veil and everything. Ethan’s going to be Sean Penn.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m going as her in Desperately Seeking Susan, so it’ll be, like, totally different.”

“But I don’t think there should be two Madonna’s,” Caroline continues, almost sounding sympathetic. She crosses her arms, shrugging. “You’ll just have to go as somebody else.”

“Oh,” May says, shoulders falling. “Um, right. I get what you mean.”

You’re not in the habit of arguing with Caroline. It’s been easier, historically, not to contradict her or answer back. But you can feel May deflating beside you, and it tumbles out. “But you won’t look similar or anything, they’re completely different costumes.”

“They’re not though.” She answers with finality. “They’re both Madonna, and the last thing we want is comparisons, right? People talking about who wears it better all night?”

May nods. “You’re right. Totally. I’ll think of something else. No worries.”

“But May, your dress! You can’t return it now, it was on sale!” 

“It’s fine,” May snaps before smiling close mouthed at Caroline. “I can find something else to wear, no issue.”

“You could be fairies together!” Caroline says. “I bet the guys at Tommy’s party would love that.”

“No, no, like I said, we were just messing around,” May says. “Not really my thing. And anyway, she’s not coming on Friday.”

“Oh no!” Caroline pushes her bottom lip out into a pout. “But I haven’t seen you outside of school in ages!”

“I’m babysitting,” you explain, clutching your removed wings in your fists. 

“Oh sure you are, not spending the night with your boyfriend. We hardly see you anymore, I feel like there must be so much detail we’ve all been missing out on. You’ll have to come on the next girls trip, right May? So we can hear all about you and…Eddie.”

Your heart pounds as May nods. “Yeah,” she answers. “Eddie can’t have all your time.”

“Perfect. Well, let me know what you end up doing, May! See you later, girls!”

She flounces away, and May hides her face in her hands. “I can’t believe she saw me doing that.” 

“It’s okay-”

“It’s not!” She says, throwing her hands up. Her eyes shine with frustrated tears. “It’s not okay! Not for me, anyway. It’s different for you, people already think you’re weird.” 

You blink at your friend. Then you look down at the speckled linoleum floor, watch the spots fuzz and blend into each other as the lump in your throat builds. Before five seconds have passed, her arms appear at your sides, pulling you into a tight hug. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I didn’t mean that.”

But you know that she did. You know that’s exactly what she thinks. 

For the moment you have to think about what you say now, you imagine calling her out on this. Pushing her away and telling her that she doesn’t have to spend any more time with you, given you embarrass her so much. You’d buy your fairy wings and your crown, walk out with your head held high. 

Maybe she’d call after you, apologise again, say that losing you isn’t worth impressing Caroline or sitting at the cheerleader table.

But maybe any pain she’d feel at the prospect of your friendship ending would only bring out her anger. Maybe she’d swear to never speak to you again. 

If you were somebody else, someone who didn’t love May, maybe you’d take that risk. But you are you, and you’ve loved May since you were five. To you, the only thing worse than feeling hurt yourself is the thought of hurting her back.

So you shake your head at her shoulder, blink away tears and squeeze her tight in your arms. “It’s okay,” you whisper. 

“Really?” 

“Yeah,” you nod, pulling away from her collar that smells the way being seven smelled. You release her, and in turn her arms fall from you. “I get it, you’re just stressed.”

“I know! I don’t know what I’m going to do about my costume!” 

Your heart pangs. You swallow the lump in your throat that’s trying to rise back up. “Well, at least the dress is black,” you say, sniffing quick and quiet. You drag your hands over your eyes, clearing away the wetness clinging to your bottom lashes. Stop it, you think. Stop crying. “Let’s return the jacket, yeah? Then you’ll have money for a witch hat or something.” 

May nods slowly as she thinks it through. “Okay, yeah. Yeah, that works.” She gives you a relieved smile. “God, what would I do without you? Let’s go.”

❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦  

“Well, I didn’t think I wanted glasses because Katie has glasses,” Grace explains, holding her plastic pumpkin, now close to overflowing with candy, in both hands at her stomach. She looks at you with a look too knowing for a seven year old, then continues. “Katie is a tattle tale.”

“I see,” you nod. 

“But I want ones like Jessica’s!” She cries, arms extending with the weight of her treasure trove before she pulls it back up. “They go dark in the sun!”

“It’s not the same,” she whines. “And then when we went to the optom- uhm.”

“But you already have sunglasses,” you reason, picturing the little red plastic pair you’ve had to run back for when out on walks many times. Grace hefts the pumpkin again and you give in, lifting the bag from her grasp and burying your wand in with the candy. You soften when she grabs your hand with a deep sigh.

“The optometrist?”

“Yeah, when we went to see him, he said my eyes were perfect!”

“Well, that’s good.”

“No!” She yells, dramatically, pulling on your arm with her whole weight until you have to  heave yourself back up. You stifle a giggle at her distraught expression. “Because now I’ll never get glasses, and everybody has them.”

“Well, first of all, I’m sure not everybody has them,” you say, smiling down at her grumpy face. “And secondly, you shouldn’t just want something like glasses because other people have them, even if it was everybody else. You can’t just live your life just trying to be like everyone around you.”

“I know,” she mumbles. Then, catching your raised eyebrow, “I know!”

You round the corner to her street, and by the time you’re approaching her house, she’s moved comfortably on to the next topic of her candy eating schedule for the next three days. “Because Jessica saves all her Skittles for last,” Grace explains, her position now firmly against being anything like Jessica. “Which is stupid, because you should have the best candy first.”

“Mm? Why’s that?”

Grace looks at you with a frown. “Because the best comes first,” she tells you, with the tone of somebody kindly trying to hold in their frustration with an imbecile. 

“Of course, silly of me to ask. Hi, Mrs. Miller!”

Grace’s Mom was clearly waiting for you near the front door, already out and standing on the front steps as you walk up the front path. Grace holds her hands out to take her bucket back, launching forward when she’s got ahold of it. “Mom! Look at all my candy!”

“Whoa! There’s no way you’ll be able to eat all that!” Her Mom says, eyes comically wide. “Think you need someone to help you out, hm?”

Grace shrieks indignantly, running under her Mom’s arm inside and clambering up the stairs out of sight without a bye nor leave for you. 

“Everything went okay?” Her Mom asks, smiling when you give her your usual answer, all fine. “Will you be okay getting home? I can get her back down if you need a ride.”

“Oh, um,” you check either side of the street, feeling suddenly warmed inside at the sight of Eddie’s van parked at the end of the road. Now that you’re concentrating on it, you’re sure you can hear the music blasting behind glass. “No, it’s okay. That’s my boyfriend.”

“Ah, Eddie.” She smiles, then smacks her teeth as she, too, registers his music. “Maybe tell him to keep it down next time? I don’t mind but I already get monthly phone calls from Mrs O’Hara about the sound of the lawnmower.” 

“Oh, sorry. I’ll do that,” 

“Okay,” she says, calling after you as you start up a fast pace towards Eddie. “You have a good night!”

You pull your cardigan sleeves down over your hands to fight the chill as you move, smiling when you can properly make out Eddie sitting in the front seat. He had a special D&D night planned when he dropped you off at Grace’s earlier. While your costume sat folded in your bag all day, he’d gone to school dressed all in black, even his white Reeboks swapped out for a pair of knockoff doc martens he’d launched himself towards when he caught sight of them at the thrift store. They’d fit him just fine with three pairs of socks.

This morning, sitting in his van, he’d barely managed to control his excited twitches while you lined his eyes with a cheap black pencil from the drugstore. Your work is a little smudged now, but on him, it looks even better than before. Which makes sense, you think. Eddie doesn’t suit neat lines. 

“Hi Princess!” He calls, turning the music down enough that his excitement is just audible through the glass as you approach. 

“Not a Princess,” you remind him as you climb in, turning your back to shake your shoulders and display the blue net wings. “A Fairy God Mother.” You settle back into the seat, shivering away the chill that had gooseflesh rising over your body. Eddie rubs your arm over your cardigan, and you take the opportunity to grab his hand. As much as you want to warm your cold fingers, it’s mainly just to touch him. “How was the game?”

His grin turns sharp as he leans back in his chair, chin tilted up. “So fucking good. I have them right where I want them. I thought for a second Lucas had me worked out. He hesitated when they were getting to the caves, but then he just went along with it. I can’t wait till next week.” He lets go of your hand long enough to start up the van before returning his open palm to the space between you for you to take hold of him again. “How is Princess Grace?”

“Increasingly despotic. She executed like five of her toys before we went out trick or treating.” 

“Jesus,” Eddie laughs. “What for?” 

“Well, her not-so-wise Fairy God Mother,” you start, gesturing to yourself. “Made the mistake of telling her about royal food tasters? Now there’s a poisoning attempt every few days.” 

“Very active imagination, this girl. Violent, but active.”

“Mm, I think most girls play that way. When I was little- Well, me and May, we’d act like witches sometimes? And make potions out of mud and sticks and stuff. And talk about who we would curse.”

“Yeah?” Eddie asks. “And which poor soul had earned this spite, pray tell?” 

“Did you ever have Mr Gilmour?”

“Oh, Gilmour, yeah, I fuckin' hated that guy!” Eddie yells. His eyebrows furrow. “I threw up during gym in seventh grade and the sadistic prick made me finish running a mile.” 

“Yeah, I forgot about that till now.” His brows stay taught for a second longer, then he shakes his head a little, tapping his fingers along your knuckles. “Too bad I didn’t have you around then, coulda cursed him for me a little earlier.”

“Oh, Eddie, that’s horrible.”

“I would have,” you promise. “But you were telling me about the game. Did you get Dustin with the, um, venom troll?”

“Not yet. We didn’t get as far as I’d have wanted before they had to go. I mean, what fourteen year old has a curfew? I didn’t, and I turned out alright. But I’ll get him next week. I can’t wait to see his face - that little punk thinks he’s so smart, but he is pre-dictable.”

Eddie continues describing the campaign, the traps he’s set for them that he’s sure they’ll run into, the whole drive to his place, excited and animated as he usually is on the rare occasion you get to see him after Hellfire, wound up from the events of the day. He only slows down when you’re settled on his couch. Sneakers left at the door, wings, tiara, and wand abandoned on the kitchen table, wrapped up in his arms as the opening titles of Theatre of Blood play. 

Eddie’s so warm, and unusually still when you sit with him like this. Being cuddled up to him puts you in mind of your aunt’s black cat. She spends the first couple hours of every visit pretending that she isn’t interested in being anywhere near you. Then, after letting her sniff your hand, rubbing gently between her ears, she darts up on your lap, her soft heat spreading through you. 

Eddie might not admit it, at least not verbally, but he likes being petted the same way. You’ve seen his eyes flutter when you play with his hair, heard the gentle sighs he lets out when you touch his cheek. Now, leaning into his chest, rubbing lazily at his torso, you can feel the way his body relaxes into the couch under your touch. It makes you smile at the TV even as Vincent Price swears revenge on all his critics.

You turn your head just a little, trying to be subtle as much as possible so you can look at him properly. Eddie’s eyes, which in sunlight can be bright as copper, are dark and focused in the electric light of the TV. The light freckles that dotted the tops of his cheeks and nose during Summer have faded from the cloudy days and early sunsets, leaving only his soft pale skin. His lips, as always, are soft looking and pink, still shiny from the last time his tongue peeked out, set in a near constant subtle pout. 

You sigh gently, and in turn breathe in the remnants of smoke and laundry detergent from his shirt, the fading spice of his drugstore aftershave.

“You know I picked this movie out special,” he says, only his eyes moving to fix you with a mockingly suspicious expression. “Vincent’s a master.”

You’re surprised to find you’re not ashamed at having been caught. “M’just looking at you.”

“Therein lies the problem, sweet thing. One minute you’re just looking. Next thing I know my head’s trapped between your thighs.” This time he leans in properly. “Wicked temptress.” He whispers it, his breath warming your face. 

You think he’ll kiss you then, but instead he relaxes back into the couch with a sigh. “M’just lucky you weren’t dressed up all day.” His hand tugs at the hem of your skirt, then spreads out just above your knee. “I wouldn’t have been able to think about anything else. It’s a miracle I even got the movie playing instead of trying to touch you.”

“I wouldn’t have minded,” you answer, trying not to sound too eager. 

“I bet,” he says, eyes shining. Then his face turns serious, palm coming to his heart. “But Eddie the Chivalrous would never touch a Princess without properly wooing her first.” His eyes scan over your face quickly. “I guess that means we need to finish the movie.”

He’s teasing you. He wants to push, see how much he can get you to say, if you’ll ask him outright to just touch you the way you want. Warring feelings compete to decide what you do next. Maybe months ago, when you first started dating Eddie, you would have pressed your thighs together and settled in to finish the film. A part of you still calls for that, screams that whatever you say won’t be right. 

You stare at Eddie now. His eyes still lined dark, the smirk he’s trying to hide. Your toes curl just looking at him, and the thought escapes naturally. “You don’t look like Eddie the Chivalrous, right now.” 

Eddie blinks slowly. His head tilts. “No? Who do I look like, then?” 

Now, something like shame creeps back in, and you wish you’d just settled down to watch the movie.

You haven’t ever put a name to it before. In your fantasies, the ones that appear unprompted when you’re alone in your bed and you haven’t been able to touch him in a couple days, Eddie’s always Eddie, but sometimes just a little different. 

Maybe Eddie the Chivalrous is the right name for how you first thought about him like that, calling you Princess as usual but meaning it. You thought about him as your knight and guard, sworn to protect you, breaking all the rules by laying you down and treating you gently, better than any lord or Prince you could be promised to.

Then you’d think about his laugh, the one that comes out when you moan a little loud, or lose your patience and try to direct his hands or his tongue to where you need him. The mocking gasp and teasing tone that often comes along with it, you want it bad, huh, Princess? You think about an Eddie who’s like that all the time, teasingly mean with you, dark and dangerous to everyone else, finding you alone in your soft bed, holding your hands above your head and- and-

People already think you’re weird.

You give in to the sudden hot shame, pressing your face to Eddie’s chest lest he read your expression so perfectly that he works it all out. You whisper into his shirt, more to yourself than him. “I’m so weird.” 

“Well, s’a good thing you’re with me then, mm?” He says, big hand moving to stroke the back of your neck. “Cause if you got a fantasy, like, something you think about when I’m not around. You know I won’t judge you for it, right?” 

“I know.” It comes out muffled against his shirt but it’s certain. It’s instinctual, now. You’re as sure that you don’t need to worry about Eddie judging you as you are that the sun will rise tomorrow morning. More and more, you find yourself talking to him the way you talk to yourself in your head. Easy and free, not waiting for the other shoe to drop. But this is different. “It’s just- It’s like-” You sigh, searching for the words that won’t come. 

He hums, still rubbing your neck. “Maybe I could- I mean, do you…wanna hear one ‘a mine?” You emerge from your hiding place, leaning back into his hand to gauge how serious he is. Eddie’s eyes crinkle at the sides at having coaxed you into looking at him again. “Yeah?”  

“Okay.” 

“Okay,” he echoes. Eddie searches his side for the remote first, pausing Vincent in the middle of another monologue. “Okay. Well, yeah, sometimes I think about- Wait no, gotta set the scene. I’ve just played maybe the best show of my life. Nothing too big,” he continues, giving you a serious look. “I’m not a sell out. We’re talking the smaller arenas, you know? Anyway, after, when I get backstage, feeling like hot shit, there’s this girl. Prettiest I’ve ever seen. And she’s wearing the band’s shirt.”

“And she’s a little shy. Can barely look me in the eye-” He catches you just as your gaze moves to his collar, pulling you back to staring, helpless, into his dark eyes. Eddie takes your hand from where it was playing with the hem of his shirt, weaving your fingers together. “She’s kinda fidgety, too.”

You swallow. “Me?”

“You, sweet thing. S’always you.” You bite the gum behind your bottom lip, holding back from grinning too much. You squirm a little under his gaze, waiting for him to speak again. “And you tell me you’ve been waiting for me,” Eddie says, voice smooth and quiet. “You tell me you’re my biggest fan. And you can’t quite say everything you wanna say, but it doesn’t matter, cause I’ve got you worked out. So I get real close,” he says, his face disappearing as his mouth moves towards your ear, “and I ask if you want me to touch you?”

“And I do,” you continue for him, shivering again at the little groan Eddie lets escape from his throat. 

“Mm hm, real bad.” His eyes reappear, scanning over each part of your face. “So bad you wanna earn it. Wanna show me I was right to pick you and not some other girl. You get on your knees for me.” Eddie licks his lips quick. “And I know you’re kinda inexperienced, but it’s good, the best I’ve ever had. You know why?” You shake your head, gaze darting between his eyes and his mouth. You watch his lips move around his words. “Cause you’re so fucking grateful for it.” 

“Mm. And when I decide you’ve earned it, I lay you back on a couch somewhere. A green room or a tour bus or something. And I show you you were right to wait for me.” You shiver. It’s a delicious thrill to picture Eddie that way, completely new to you, a total stranger, yet so sure of what he can take. “And after that?” He says, giving the back of your neck a squeeze. “I keep you.”

“Eddie.” You feel your heartbeat between your legs, wishing he would touch you there now, or even put you on your knees the way he wants so you could show him you’re as grateful for him here and now as you are in his fantasy. 

The fantasy fades when Eddie kisses you. With the press of his lips, the taste of Dr Pepper on his tongue, he’s your Eddie again, familiar and perfect. You’re still floating back to Earth when he pulls away. “Your turn.”

You flinch, crashing to the ground instead. “What?”

“You like Latin, right? It’s quid pro quo, sweetheart. I show you mine, you show me yours. Tit for tat. That was the deal.”

“It was implied.” Eddie answers breezily. Then, with his thumb rubbing gently at the back of your hand. “C’mon. Try? You liked mine, right?” You give a barely noticeable nod, but Eddie catches it. “Yeah. And I bet I’ll like yours.”

“There was no deal!”

“I can’t- I don’t have it all, like, thought out the way you do.”

“Well, I’m a storyteller by trade,” he says, pressing his free hand to his chest. “All my sex fantasies have lore. And we can build on yours, if it needs it.Alright. I’m not Eddie the Chivalrous right now. Who am I?” He tilts his chin to where you have started playing with his rings, twisting each round his fingers in turn. “Apart from Eddie the Stress Toy.”

“It’s not- You’re just-” You swallow, rubbing your thumb over the metal skull sitting where a wedding ring would go. “You’re just somebody…somebody I shouldn’t want.”

“Intriguing. And you are?” Your face flames. You mumble it, barely opening your lips, and Eddie squints. “Mm?”

You sigh. “Princess.”

“Always,” Eddie replies, ducking his head to make sure you see his face, reassuringly still smiling. “Okay. I can work with this. Maybe I'm…Eddie the Banished. I tried to take power for myself by force but I failed.” He brings your hand to his mouth, kisses the thin skin at your wrist. “And I’ve returned, because I realised I don’t need to win a battle. I just have to…take the Princess?”

You clench around nothing. “Yeah.”

“Fuck, yeah. C’mon, sweet thing.” 

Your gaze follows him as he stands. “You want- Right now?”

“Why not? We’re all dressed up. The time is now.” Eddie pauses his excitement when he registers the fact you’re still sitting. “If…if you want.”

“I do,” you breathe. “But I can’t, y’know, talk like you.” You just know Eddie already has some dialogue thought up, things he can say as the character he’s just come up with that will make you dizzy. “I’ll get stuck.”

“Maybe you will, maybe you won’t,” Eddie says, squatting down in front of you, hands spread out on your knees. “I don’t mind taking the lead. Besides, the Princess would be kinda nervous anyway, right? If you’re not supposed to want me. The outlaw, the traitor. You’ve been told about all the terrible things I’ve done, what I tried to do for power. Now you feel guilty about what you really want from me. And I’ve been thinking about you while I’ve been on the run, living rough- You know, this is good stuff,” he says, interrupting himself and looking round. “You got a pen? I should maybe write some of this down- No. After, sorry.” He gives you a sheepish grin, then leans in close. “Don’t think there’s much chance I’ll forget this, anyway.” 

He stands then, hand extended to you with wiggling fingers for you to take and let him guide you through to his room. Eddie hums when his door is closed, shutting out the world beyond the frame. “Shoulda done this at yours,” he says, sitting you down on the mattress. “In your pretty Princess bed.”

“Doesn’t matter,” you say breathlessly, meaning it entirely. All that matters is it’s him. He’s the only person you could do something like this with. 

“Okay, I need a little more. You shouldn’t want me, I’m…morally grey, let’s say. Chaotic neutral. Am I mean?”

“Kinda,” you answer. “You’re…selfish?”

“Selfish,” he repeats. 

“Just like, y’know. It’s like-” Eddie’s hands spread at the sides of your thighs, teasing the skin at the hem of your skirt. You want them everywhere. “You know I want you. That I’ll…do things for you. And you take advantage. ”

There’s a pause. “I think I’m following. Things somebody like you shouldn’t do?” You nod quickly, cheeks burning as you watch him work it out. “You wanna get your mouth on me, Princess?”

You fight the instinct to hide, the urge to look away, the voice telling you to deny everything, take it back. Instead, you start playing with the hem of his shirt again, soft cotton between your fingers.  

“Mm hm.”

“Shit. Okay. Anything-” His voice cracks a touch, and he clears his throat before he speaks again. “Anything else?”

“It’s not like- Even though you’re mean, you still- With me, you feel-” Now you do have to look away, staring at where your fingers are fiddling with the black fabric. He can read you too well, and you don’t want him to see exactly what you want from him. “You-”

You love me. 

“I feel…how I feel about you?” He suggests.

You bite the gum behind your lip to stop yourself asking exactly what that means. “Yeah.”

“Okay, good. Hard to pretend anything else.” Eddie leans down to press a soft kiss to your lips, long enough that your whole body relaxes into it, your mind settling on Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. When he pulls away, it’s easy to answer his question. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

Eddie stands to full height, his shoulders back. He tilts his head, expression shifting. From your Eddie, with chestnut eyes and his perfect, dimpled smile, to a smirking man with a dark gaze excited to ruin you. 

“I’ve been looking for you, Princess,” he says, voice smooth and confident. A thrilled shiver runs up your spine. “Knew I’d find you eventually, but I could only hope I’d find you like this. All alone.” He takes a step towards you. “Unprotected-”

“Eddie,” you whisper. 

Softness peaks through with raised eyebrows. “Good?” You nod quickly, and it disappears again as he slinks closer towards you. “I missed you, while I was away,” he tells you, soft and teasing. “Did you miss me?”

“I-” You swallow. You’re used to repeating back what Eddie says to you, in times like this, letting him guide you through everything he wants to hear from you. But you don’t want to just watch him do this for you. “No.”

Eddie blinks, surprised, then he puts on a mockingly hurt face, hand over his heart. “No? You wound me, Princess.” That same hand reaches for your face, cupping your cheek. His thumb strokes gently under your eye and you can’t help but lean into him. “Or you would, if I believed you.” He tilts your head up to see him properly, standing over you. “You think I didn’t see the way you’d look at me, before I left?”

Your fingers twitch to reach out and brush at the ends of his hair as it falls towards you, but you keep them at your sides on the bed, curling into the sheets. “You didn’t leave, you-”

“Left, banished, driven out; it all comes to the same end, mm?” His eyes scan your face, down your dress and back up. “That’s you and me, Princess. Here, alone together. You gonna pretend you never wanted that?”

His thumb, callused and warm, keeps rubbing over your cheek. “I can’t want it”

“No, you can,” he presses. Eddie, your Eddie, would sit with you now, squat in front of you to talk to you at the same level. Now, his grip on your jaw tightens just enough to remind you that he could stop you looking away if you tried. “Cause I’ve had time to think about it.”

“While you were hiding in the woods?”

“While I was regrouping,” he corrects. “I realised something. I went about it all wrong.” he tells you. “It was foolish of me to try and use force to get what I want. Not when you were right here. Waiting for me.”

His thumb pulls at your bottom lip, then presses inside to the tip of your tongue. 

“If I make you mine, everything else follows. That’s right, isn’t it?” He nods slowly until you copy him. “The throne, power, vengeance on everyone who tried to hold me back. And you, in my bed every night. All day if I wanted.” He pulls at your lip again as he steals his thumb back, leaning in until his breath is warm against your cheeks. “That sounds nice. Doesn't it, Princess?” You glance at his lips, wanting him to kiss you now, to take it from you. Eddie shakes his head, drawing your gaze back to his. “I wanna hear you say it. You wanted me to touch you, just like this, and more, didn’t you? Wanted me to show you how to make me happy?”

You can feel your heartbeat heavy in your chest, your breath coming quicker. Only Eddie could do this, have you convinced of a story which before tonight only existed half formed in the fantasies of your bedroom. You can feel the internal conflict as if it really is your duty to say no, and your heart’s only desire to give your next answer.

“Yes, Eddie.”

He gives you a kiss that’s half teeth, dragging at your bottom lip. Even this is different. You’re used to the gentle start, feeling him smile on your mouth. He breathes deep through his nose, pulls from you so suddenly that you make to follow him until he presses a hand to your shoulder. 

“And I will. Get on the floor.” Eddie steps back, and it doesn’t even occur to argue with him now. You slide off the mattress easily, knees falling to the carpet without looking away from him. There’s a pause. He speaks quietly, as if he doesn’t want an invisible audience to hear. “You comfy? You want the pillow?” 

“No,” you answer, heart aching. “I’m okay.” 

“Okay.”

You watch the way he steels his face again, looking at you on your knees in front of him like that’s where you’re meant to be. His hands work at his belt, a soft hiss escaping when he presses his palm down the front of his pants. His head tilts back, displaying his thick neck, the rising pinkness across his pale throat, and he breathes a laugh. “Now, Princess- Wait!” You jump at the suddenness of Eddie pulling his hand from his pants only to clasp them at his waist as he half-jogs towards the door. “Just a second. Don’t move!” 

Eddie disappears through the door, mumbling to himself. His words are faint but it’s clear enough that he is looking for something. You close your eyes, focusing on his voice, however fuzzy. You never thought you could have something like this. Someone like Eddie. Someone safe. So safe that you can abandon yourself to fulfilling a silly fantasy thought up under the covers of your bed. 

Something catches your hair and you open your eyes to find him standing over you again. The tip of his tongue curls over his top lip as he places the plastic silver tiara just so on your head. When it’s as he wants it, his teeth show with his smile. “Perfect,” he says, pressing two fingers to your chin and turning your head each way. “My Princess, mm? I’m going to show you what it is to be mine.”

Eddie reaches into his pants to pull himself free. His hand drags over the shaft, quick and dirty, just for a moment’s relief if the clench of his jaw the second he stops is any indicator. 

You think you know what to do now, tipping your chin, opening your mouth, ready to take him. Only he angles his head away from your tongue. You peer up at him in confusion, watch the way his excitement plays out on his face. “C’mere, Princess.” 

Cupping your cheek with his spare hand, he guides you to the base of his cock, where he is softest. Your lips graze the fuzzy skin of his balls and Eddie makes a noise that has you squirming for the lightest touch between your legs. You kiss delicately, blinking up at him, watching his thumb rub over the head of his cock, catching wetness to ease the slow movement of his hand. He taps his fingers on your cheek gently. “Open up. Want your tongue.”

Your toes curl. You want to taste him here, aching at the smell of him; like his neck at the end of the day in Summer, his sweat and musk, fading body wash. You want to make Eddie feel good so badly, you think you might do whatever he asks as long as he looks at you the way he is now. 

You reach for him, palm settling on his knee where denim meets exposed skin. Opening your mouth, you lick quickly at the seam of his balls, taste salt on soft skin. He groans, fingers flexing around your jaw. “That’s it,” he encourages. “Fuck yes,” Eddie bites out when you lick broad and wet up to the base of his cock, thinking of his wide tongue drawing upwards from your pussy to your clit. “Fuck, yes.” 

He draws you back, smiling down at you. It makes your face burn, but you struggle between looking him in the eyes and staring at his cock. His balls are pink and wet from your attention, his hand moves steadily over his length, drawing folds of skin over his thick head and back.

“Want you to suck on them a little,” he tells you. The pause he leaves gives a moment for you to squeeze at his knee, as if presenting your open mouth wouldn’t be enough to show your agreement. He drags the weight of his balls over your chin to your wet tongue, listing off curses when your lips close just enough to suck gently. Eddie’s hand moves faster over his length, the curve of his fingers brushing your forehead with each tug.

Eddie’s groans are all that matter now. His sack is heavy, falling past your lips the wider you open your mouth. “So fuckin’ full cause of you,” Eddie bites. You hum, closing your eyes, his hips stutter. First towards the warmth of your mouth and then away entirely, replacing his sack with the head of his cock tapping against your tongue.

Eddie gasps when you lap at his leaking tip. “Can I-” He pauses, rephrases, puts on the right tone. “I’m gonna fuck your mouth now, Princess.” 

He watches you carefully, gives you time to tell him no. You squeeze his knee once more, gaze moving from his dark eyes to his cock. You press a quick kiss to the swollen head, a darker pink than the rest of him where it peeks through folds of skin, then let him press your head back against the mattress. 

Eddie’s cock glides smoothly over your tongue to the top of your throat. “Fuck,” he breathes, rolling his hips. “M’starting to think this is what you wanted the whole time.” He eases further, just past the entrance of your throat. It’s easier, like this. You are more open to him with your head tilted back this way. He holds himself in the warmth of your mouth, watching you blinking back tears to try and keep him clear in your gaze. Finally your throat protests, and Eddie draws back till you can suck at his head, the exposed length of his cock shining with your spit. You gaze at him, wanting him to be proud of you for taking him deeper than you have before. He makes a soft encouraging noise, but Eddie like this won’t give you the validation you want so easily. “Teased me for so long. I think I deserve to take what I want, now.”

Eddie thrusts slowly at first, easing you in despite his words. The hand that was on your cheek now stroking at your heated forehead. 

You like it like this. 

You liked having him in your mouth the first time, and every time after that. Like watching him shake, hearing him groan and whine, and knowing that you’re the one making him like that. You like focusing on him; lick here, nip there, let him feel you moan around him. Now, you don’t even have to think about how best to please him. You can focus on your breathing, taking air in through your nose when he pulls back enough. And on Eddie and how he looks as he takes his pleasure from you. 

Eddie’s so beautiful. His dark hair frizzes around his face, eyes crinkling at the sides when he closes them and groans into the air. His neck is pink, a pretty blush crawling up to his cheeks as his thrusts speed up. “We’re gonna do this all the time, Princess, you hear me?” He grits, fingers curling into the sheets at the side of your head. You moan in answer, pleased when it makes his cock twitch in your mouth, his tip dipping deep enough past the entrance of your throat that you can’t blink away the wetness that springs to your eyes. “You’re gonna be in my bed all the time, maybe I’ll tie you up, mm?” He presses deep again, then holds steady. When the tears collected at the corners of your eyes start to fall, he wipes them away before they can reach the apples of your cheeks. “Keep you here, just for me. Don’t need to see or talk to anyone else ever again.”

If your head weren’t fuzzy, you’d start questioning why that makes you ache. Eddie withdraws his cock from the top of your throat and you only take a second to gasp in the air you need before following him, reaching up to touch the inches of his cock your mouth still can’t quite cover. Eddie laughs through a moan at the feeling of you jerking his cock into your mouth, licking wet at the end of him. “You want that, huh? Hey-” He drags you away from his cock, leaving you with wet, pleading eyes looking up at him. “You want that?” Your mouth opens, then closes. Your hips roll, seeking friction you can’t get while kneeling like this. Eddie’s eyes flick down, lips turning up at the sight. “Get on the bed for me, mm?”

Eddie reaches a hand out to help you sit up on his mattress. Then he pulls his shirt off over the back of his head, exposing all the soft pale skin and dark ink of his torso. You pull your dress up too, knocking your tiara in the process. When the dress is off entirely, Eddie’s there in an instant to fix it for you, his fingers caressing your cheek when he’s done. “Hey, uh. Am I doing alright? Is this the sort of thing you imagined?”

“This is better,” you tell him earnestly, loving how pleased he looks. You’re learning that this, the pleasure gained from praise, is something you and Eddie share. You love it when Eddie calls you good, or smart, or sweet. When he tells you that you’re good at something he’s teaching you. In turn, Eddie likes it when you tell him how good he makes you feel, that he’s doing everything right, that he’s looking after you exactly how you want it. 

He kisses you, and it’s softer this time until he bites gently at your bottom lip as he’s pulling away. “C’mon and lie down, Princess,” he says, guiding you to lay down. You press your legs together, knees bent and feet flat to the mattress as Eddie climbs up after you. His hands stroke up and down your thighs, making you giggle softly as he passes ticklish spots. It relaxes you enough to let him guide your legs open and back, allowing him closer. Eddie tilts his head, thumbing the little blue bow at the waistband of your panties. “You really want me to tie you up?” 

Without thinking, you glance quickly at the handcuffs hanging from his door. You feel the beat of your heart against your chest, wondering if you’re ready for that, knowing really that you’re not. Eddie’s hand cups your cheek, directing your gaze back to him. He kisses your knee. “Not tonight, Princess.” He leans in, whispers. “And only ever if you really want, okay?”

“I know, Eddie,” you answer. And you do. You know that as much as Eddie is teaching you, seemingly leading you along to each new experience, in truth he’s making sure you set the pace. 

“Take this off for me,” he says, pulling at the strap of your bra. You reach underneath your back to unhook it, shimmying it off your arms and letting it drop to his floor. Once you’re settled, he takes both your hands in his, pulling them up over your head. You can’t help but giggle, feeling both nervous and giddy. “Hold onto the headboard?” You follow the instruction, wrapping your fingers around one of the wooden slats. Stretched like this, chest presented to him, you feel open and exposed, your nipples tightening from the cold air and from Eddie’s attention. “Don’t let go, mm?”

He leans down, kissing from the base of your neck down the skin between your breasts, his hair dragging behind him, tickling the sensitive skin. He leaves a wet mark on the curve of your left breast, the sting of his teeth quickly soothed by his tongue. When he takes the tight bud of your nipple between his lips, your whole body tenses. It’s a test of your submission, if you can last with only your memory of what it feels like to tangle your fingers in his hair. If you can bear not to tug at it when he flicks his tongue like that. 

Your hands tighten around the wood, hips tilting to find his cock where he tucked it back in his boxers, still hard and throbbing between your legs. The friction, however light, against where you have been waiting for him all evening, is too good to give up, and you keep searching for his hardness to rub against. 

Eddie releases your breasts with a grin. “You want it bad, huh, Princess?”

You whine, melting when he presses his hips forward to give you more delicious friction along your pussy. He huffs a laugh, sitting up and quickly reaching out for the pack of Trojans on his bedside. You watch him kneel between your legs, the way he fists his cock while he tears at the foil square with his teeth, his desperation to roll the condom over his length. Eddie shuffles forward on his knees and presses his wide hands to the back of your thighs. He gently guides your legs back, hitching your hips up for better access to your pussy, wet and swollen under his gaze.

“Wanted this for so long, Princess,” he says. “You’ve been waiting too, hmm?”

“Yes, Eddie. Been waiting so long.” You nearly cry from relief when his cock latches at your entrance, then from despair when he stills instead of filling you. The headboard creaks from your squirming. “Please,” you whisper, sounding pathetic in a way that would embarrass you if you weren’t aching from the emptiness.

Eddie stretches you perfectly as he presses inside your slick cunt. The tease of pain feels good now that your body recognises what it means, where Eddie filling you up leads. “Good?” He asks, once he’s deep enough inside that the curls of hair above his cock are teasing your clit. 

You mean to answer properly, but the intention is overtaken by the need for him to move. Waiting for him, your fingers tighten around the wood so much you swear there will be marks from your nails. “Eddie.” It comes out whinier than you intended, but he certainly doesn’t mind. 

“Eddie,” he mimics breathily, his teeth showing as the heat of pleasant humiliation crawls up your spine. He doesn’t keep you waiting any longer, snapping his hips to draw back and press deep again through your clenching cunt.

You’ve been under him every time, but like this you feel helpless. Hands voluntarily useless, body tilted up and legs opened by his hands, your body presented to him and positioned perfectly for him to set the pace. It feels right for this - you know now what the romance novels you hide under your bed mean when the heroine is taken. 

Your toes curl when Eddie’s hips roll just right, the heavy head of his cock hitting the end of you. When he reaches between you to press a thumb to your clit and rub in tight circles, your body tilts, hips trying to chase the pleasure, only for Eddie to press you back down to where he wants you.

“I like it,” you answer. “I like it, Eddie.”

“You like it, like this, hm?” Eddie asks. You blink at him slowly, wondering if it’s your boyfriend or Eddie the Banished asking. “Tell me.”

He shakes his head like he can’t believe it, hair shaking. “Knew you would. Pretty Princess just needed to be fucked right, mm?” You shudder, tightening around his cock enough that he gasps, “fuckfuckfuck. S’good. It’s so good, honey.”

You breathe a laugh. “Princess, to you.”

“My apologies,” he says, snapping his hips to land heavy against the spot at the back of your pussy. You gasp, legs kicking out against his grip involuntarily only for him to tighten his grip and push them back to where he wants them. You can hear how wet you are, the sound of him moving inside you as loud as the bed springs, as loud as your moans. “Mine now, aren’t you, Princess?” 

You nod easily. “Yes.”

“Gonna give me everything I want from now on, aren’t you?” 

“Yes. Yes-”

“Made it so easy for me. Should have just done this in the beginning, just taken you for myself.”

“Yes. Yes, Eddie.”

“Fuck,” he breathes, head tilting back as his hips speed up. “Fuck, I can’t- Can’t get enough of that.” When he looks back to you, the detached, mocking look is gone. He’s all intensity and warmth, your Eddie again. Your whole body tightens. “Tells me everything I need to know when you say my name like that.” He gives you a mean thrust, tongue peeking out as he watches where you’re connected, the slick coating his cock, before his gaze returns to your pleasured, sweaty face. “You’re so fucking good, you know that? So fucking good, the way you talk to me. Telling me what you want. Not gonna hide anything like that from me again, are you?”

“Nuh,” you manage, legs twitching. “Eddie.” 

”Again,” he gasps. “Please. My sweet girl-”

“Eddie. Eddie-”

Maybe you keep chanting his name, maybe you cry it out, maybe you stop altogether to scream out instead. You don’t know. You just know he’s all you’re thinking of as the pleasure crests, spreading out from the back of your cunt through your body until it’s intense enough you think you might cry. Then it fades to the gentle delight of Eddie still moving inside you, the warmth and weight of his cock when he buries himself deep. You hear him groan, feel the potential for bruises blooming where his fingers dig into your thighs. Then it’s his weight easing down on top of you, the ache in your shoulders and your legs as you let them relax before wrapping yourself around him.

You finally get your hands in his hair. The roots are damp from sweat, his curls tangled in knots. Eddie’s face is pressed so fully to the space between your breasts that you’re not convinced he can be breathing. He mumbles something that’s lost to your ears, then tilts his head up till you can see his face, and his goofy smile. Your heart aches even as you giggle. Then he’s crawling up your body to kiss you, his mouth warm and tasting like the sweat from his upper lip. 

“I’m gonna pull out now but I want it known that it’ll take amazing strength of will on my part.” 

He does so, disappearing from the bed for less than five seconds to throw out the condom before flopping next to you again and opening his arms to let you clamber into his hold again, you try to fight the rising worries by pressing your face into his neck. He hisses at the scrape of the plastic tiara under his chin, taking it off himself before returning to stroke at your temple with his fingers.  “How do you feel, sweet girl?”

It takes you a minute to answer, sorting through all the complicated feelings that emerged the second Eddie wasn’t inside you anymore. “Good,” you murmur. Then, “weird.” 

You hate how fast it all happens so soon after something so special. You feel overwhelmed and tired, like you want to scrub yourself raw under hot water, like you want to curl up in Eddie’s arms and smell like him forever. You feel like you don’t want to ever be touched again, but the thought that Eddie won’t makes your heart sore. You wish you were normal. You wish you didn’t have weird fantasies. You wish you didn’t feel guilty about what you want. 

Eddie holds you tight against him, and you let yourself feel the comfort of that. Eddie doesn’t think you’re weird, or gross, or immoral. Eddie won’t ever leave you alone to cry and scratch at your crawling skin. 

He presses his lips to your forehead, mumbles against your skin. “Gonna let me look after you?”

He keeps you with him while he runs a bath. You’re wrapped in a towel while he runs around naked, giving you mock coquettish looks over his shoulder every now and then until he gets a giggle from you. As steam starts to rise from the tub, he searches through the cabinet under the sink before emerging with a bottle filled with suspiciously bright orange liquid. “We don’t have bubble bath but, uh, this is six-in-one.” 

You try sitting in the water together, wrapped up in him, but the pins and needles come too fast, eight limbs not quite fitting as they should. You end up facing him, legs tucked up to your chest, watching the water drip from dark ends of his hair. 

“Not as romantic as I’d hoped,” he says.

“It’s okay. I like looking at you.”

His dimples show. Sweetest boy on Earth. He splashes at you a little, waiting for you to smile before talking. “Feeling better?” 

“Much,” you answer honestly. Somewhere between giggling at Eddie rushing to his bedroom to fetch towels for you both, a hair tie for you, with his hands covering the crack of his ass while leaving his dick uncovered and him quietly insisting on taking the side of the tub with the tap at his back, the grey cloud hanging over you faded. “Cause of you,” you say, splashing him back. 

Eddie smiles, resting his face against his knee. “Is there anything I can do, you know, to make it better, like, before it happens?” He reaches for your hand in the water. “Cause it hasn’t, in a while. I know that this was, like, different, but if I did something-”

“No,” you interrupt. “It wasn’t you.” Eddie lets that sit for a while, waiting for you to continue. “When it’s just me and you, it’s like-” You swallow. “Sometimes I feel like I’m being really, actually myself for the first time in my whole life.” Eddie’s eyes are so soft, looking at you now. “And I know that you won’t ever judge me for…my fantasies, or whatever. But then it’s like, it’s almost like- Like without even wanting to, I imagine what other people would say, if they knew the stuff I told you. If they saw how I am, when it’s just us. And then I just feel like, even though they’re not there, it’s ruined it.”

Eddie squeezes your hand, sighs with his whole body. “That sounds exhausting.”

Tears prick in your eyes even as you laugh without real mirth. “It is.”

“Well, you know this stuff really is always going to be just me and you. Right?” 

“I know, Eddie.”

“I wish I could fix it for you, sweet thing.”

You close your eyes tight, trying to force back the tears. You swallow the lump in your throat, thinking, me too. Instead, you sigh, remind yourself that however hard it is now, you’re sure it used to be worse. Before you had Eddie and his humour, his touch, his kindness. “You make it better, Eddie. I promise.”

He’s perfectly gentle with you the rest of the evening, curling back up with you on the couch when you’re dry to restart Theatre of Blood. You let yourself sink into his chest, playing with his rings. You are just about engrossed in the story again, watching with sick fascination as the first critic is stabbed like Julius Caesar. Then, a thought suddenly occurs.

“Did…did you say the soap was six-in-one?”

“Sure did,” Eddie answers. “Face, body, hair, laundry, pets and dishes.”

“That’s why it smells like the terrier next door.”

Eddie hums, lifts your hand to his face and sniffs. “You mean that’s why we smell like the terrier next door.”

[merakiui]

MERA!!!! I have no one else to ramble/rant about this to since I fear it's a pretty uncommon experience, but have you ever read a wonderful piece of work by someone who unfortunately ended up deactivating/leaving most socials? ;ª;

There's this one darker Tweels fic called "Aphotic" currently listed on ao3 (https://archiveofourown.org/works/27124492/chapters/66236443 link for good measure)- which if im not sure if you've ever read, but oh. My. God. It's such a great fic that really hits the spot for darker content of the tweels. The characterization of Jade and Floyd are absolutely my favorite in this fic as they're just *incredibly* mean to the reader but in a tasteful way. Bonus points also go to how the author wrote the mc(reader) as well, everyone in this fic is just equally fucked up and reading through this story is just one incredible rocky ride..there are only two surviving chapters and one of the two is Floyd focused, but I don't wanna spoil the main plot of the fic for anyone that may be interested in reading just please take the warning that when I say the tweels are mean, they are MEAN..

unfortunately the fic is not only unfinished but as I mentioned earlier, in a devastating turn of events the author of the series completely deactivated D: they were also on tumblr once I think they went by twstedworks? But there's no longer any way to see any of their works on this platform anymore which is just so unfortunate,, I get an intense feeling of past-felt-fomo knowing I wasn't able to see any of their other stuff while they were an active writer knowing that they seemed to be active in 2020(?) Which was a time I wasn't really reading any written works for twst... but regardless of whatever reason they chose to leave the platform I do hope they're doing well now.

I'm sad that I'll never be able to see the jade centric part of Aphotic, or be able to see any of their previous dribbles or works since they've all been completely wiped. I have followed good yan/dark twst writers and blogs in the past that have deactivated or moved on for whatever personal reason in the past but it does really suck in this case not being able to at least, in the slightest , have been able to experience other stuff this author may have wrote which im sure was delightful orz...

Reminder to readers and consumers of fanfic on here to always show support and motivation to your favorite writers!! You never know when you'll never get the chance to read anything from them ever again :( and thank you esp Mera for being one of my favorite twst blogs of all time on here!! Your interpretations of the tweels have always been my favorite from any blog and the way you choose to write these characters in general never disappoints ✨️

If this does get answered, being as this is my first ever formal ask, may I be 🪆 anon? Or 🍮🥄 if that's taken ^_^

Hi hiii, 🍮🥄 anon!!! (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

I know that experience... >_< it's happened to some of the stories/authors I followed. It's always so sad when writers deactivate/leave the platform or fandom/etc, but everyone has their reasons. I can only be grateful I was able to behold such enjoyable works!!! :D "Aphotic" sounds like such an interesting story!! I love mean tweels. <3 I'll have to check it out!

I think I've read some writings from twsted-works before they deactivated! It was so long ago (before I even had a tumblr account), but I remember adoring the way they wrote Octavinelle. I hope they're doing well wherever they are!!

And you're so right!!! It's always important to show support and love to artists, creators, writers, etc! Most, if not all, writers love to receive feedback on their work. Even something like a keyboard smash or a dozen heart emojis is very flattering to us because it shows us that you've enjoyed the work. Whether you show that enjoyment by commenting, liking, reblogging, or sending an ask on here, it's always lovely to spread appreciation for the hard work and time that goes into crafting wonderful stories!!! ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

Thank you so much for your sweet words!! I'm just happy to be able to write and share stories!! It's a huge honor you would consider me one of your favorite twst blogs. I'm beyond flattered!!!! ♥️✨

[heyitsspiders]

Bitten Apple ~ AdamsApple Fic - CHAPTER 1

a/n it's finally here!

AO3 link

IMPORTANT!!! Adam uses a lot of homophobic language (including the f slur) so if that makes you uncomfortable, please don't read!! anyways, onto the sillies

Rude Awakenings

Adam opened his heavy eyelids, groaning. He shifted to lift his head so he was no longer being smoothed by the dirt before he was quickly stopped, pain shooting through his body. Fuck, that really fucking hurt! Adam sucked in a breath before quickly flipping over to his back. Bad idea. If he thought the previous bout of pain was bad, this made it seem like a simple pinch. What the fuck was wrong with him? He was an angel! He shouldn’t have to deal with pain - he shouldn’t even be able to get hurt! It was probably Lucifer and his fucking bitch of a daughter. Just the thought of that white circus bastard made his blood boil. 

With anger taking its proper place at the forefront of his priorities, he was able to sit up and take in his surroundings. First of all, the pain was everywhere but the main point of it came from his stomach, which had the most dried gold blood stained on it. In fact, gold blood covered basically all of him and the ground he sat on. What the fuck had happened?

Adam closed his eyes, pressing a clawed hand to his face in concentration.

Wait… 

Clawed-

WHAT??

Adam’s eyes shot open to stare at his own, yet unfamiliar, hands. They now ended in sharp claws that adorned each finger. Adam’s horror grew as this was not the only change as he realized his robes were no longer, instead he had a cropped punk black jacket with gold spikes on the shoulders and a red long sleeved shirt that ended in tatters. What the fuck! The cool ass “A” he had on his robes was now replaced with an “A” but instead of a line it's an X. Not fucking cool! 

He also had dark pants that bent in weird ways. Were his legs fucking broken? They didn’t hurt anymore than the rest of him then why the fuck- 

“What the fuck???” Adam shouted as he tried to kick away from his own legs, which unfortunately followed him considering they were doing the kicking. His legs were now shaped just like the hooved animals he had named. He now had fucking hooves. HOOVES. The first man does NOT have hooves!

This had to be some sick prank Sera was pulling on him for mentioning the exterminations. Women never understand that men make mistakes too! Except for Adam, he never makes mistakes. But still! Not fucking cool!

Adam looked up at the red ass sky, reminding him of why he was actually here: The extermination. A smile crept onto his face as he turned his head, peering around at the vast amounts of rubble around him. He did this, a sense of pride swelling in his chest. That’s right, the powerful Adam beat those filthy demons into the ground! 

His smile faltered as the sense of loneliness settled. Hold up, where the fuck are his girls? They never left him behind, he fucking trained them better than that! It made his chest hurt, a faintly familiar pain gripped his heart. He shook his head, he wasn’t a chick, he didn’t get sad n’ shit. He was Adam, he was fine. He was pulled out of his thoughts by laughter that came from behind him. 

Adam sharply turned his torso to face whatever bitch was sneaking up on him, internally wincing as his abdomen twisted painfully. His very manly — and definitely not underlined with fear — action caused the laughter to get louder. Oh who does this bitch think he is?

Adam’s sharp teeth snapped shut, his lips curling into a snarl as his fists clenched the loose dirt as his eyes settled on the laughing cunt. In front of him was the wife-stealer himself: Lucifer. Oh the nerve of this bitch to show himself to Adam. 

“Haha! Man, this is-” Lucifer cackled, interrupting himself by laughing, “-this is too good!” He wiped a stray tear that had fallen down his white ass skin as he fucking laughed at Adam. Adam’s face contorted in anger further, his feathers puffing up in a subconscious attempt to seem bigger. 

“Aww, is the little lamb angry?” Lucifer cooed. Fucking cooed. At him. Like he was a fucking child . 

“Shut the fuck up, asshole!” Adam growled, he could feel soft fur turn back on his head.

 He blinked, raising a hand to where his ears were only to be met with the soft touch of fur far further out from his head than his ears should be. Were those fucking lamb ears? He tugged on one to make sure it was real and as the pain sprouted from the location he scowled. Fuck, they were real. 

Adam slammed his fists down, letting out a loud sound of frustration, “Urgh!” Adam looked back up at the fucking bitch that was smirking down at him and pointed a finger at him, “You! You fucking did this to me!” 

Lucifer chuckled, raising his hands, “Oh please, I wish I was the one who did this,” he gestured to all of Adam. “But, no, I did not.”

Adam glared at him, “Yeah, sure. Then who the fuck did?”

Lucifer shrugged, “I might rule over Hell but it still does its own things. I don’t choose how sinners look – do you know how much work that would be?” He dragged a hand down his face, “so many humans die and end up here every hour, do you think I have the time to do that?... Don’t answer that.”

The words shot through Adam like a bullet. A sinner? He wasn’t a fucking sinner. He was a winner, he was THE first man, a fucking angel, and the leader of the exterminators! This bitch had no idea what he was talking about. 

“Sinner? Do I look like a fucking sinner to you?” Adam, doing his best to not show how much he hurt everywhere, started to get up. He was tired of this short stack looking down at him. He should be doing the looking down.

Lucifer laughed, a quick sharp ‘Ha!’, “Uh, yeah. You do. Look at you!” He moved a dark hand to gesture to Adam. “Lamb ears, horns, hooves, sharp teeth, claws. Oh! And not to mention your lack of a halo. All signs of a sinner.” The clown bitch looked far too happy to point out every little detail of how Adam had changed.

Adam’s jaw clenched; he hated how the runt of a man was right. He did look like all the filthy sinners he had killed. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck FUCK! This had to be a prank, there was no way he, Adam, was a fucking sinner! 

“What the fuck did you do to me?” Adam winced at how weak he sounded. He sounded like a fucking chick. 

“Unfortunately, I didn’t do anything,” Lucifer’s face seemed to sour as he spoke, “the little maid was the one to kill you.” He laughed, “fitting, though, that it was a mere sinner that killed you.”

Adam was now fully standing, he was so much taller than the so-called king of Hell. He knew logically that he couldn’t beat the prick and that pissed him off. He stalked closer, looming over the shorter man as he tried to look threatening. Yet, Lucifer just looked amused, which angered Adam further. Lucifer had no right to look so smug. He raised a fist before striking quickly, only to miss and stumble forward as the king so easily dodged. 

Adam growled, baring his teeth, “You know what? You aren’t even fucking worth my time! You don’t deserve to be beaten by me!” He flipped him off as he began to walk away.

Lucifer laughed that stupid fucking laugh, “Oh, but Adam, I’m not done talking.”

Adam scoffed, not looking back, “Like I give a shit-” He was cut off by Lucifer appearing in front of him, smiling. Adam hated that fucking smile.

“Get the fuck out of my way, freak,” Adam rolled his eyes in annoyance. Couldn’t this bitch leave him alone? Lucifer had already done more than enough.

“Hm, no, I’m good,” Lucifer said with a shrug. “I have a deal for you.”

“A deal?” Adam laughed, “How stupid do you think I am?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

“You fucking-”

Lucifer raised a hand, a look of irritation passing over his features, “Shut up for a moment.” 

Before Adam could retort Lucifer cleared his throat and continued, “As I was saying, I have a deal for you. You haven’t had to deal with Hell without your little army and your angelic powers, you’re gonna need help to keep yourself in one piece.”

Adam furrowed his brows, was he saying he was weak? Adam was not weak. Humanity survived because he started it. Adam had learned to thrive in a completely new environment with no help before and he’ll fucking do it again. He didn’t need the Devil’s mock pity. At least with how angry he was he could ignore the pain that still rang throughout his body.

“I don’t need your fucking handouts, I’m not some bitch that needs your charity,” Adam pointed a sharp finger to Lucifer’s chest. “I survived - no - thrived after you got me and Eve kicked out of Eden. I didn’t need help then and I sure as Hell don’t need help now.”

“Once Sera realizes I’m here she’ll come get me and-”

Lucifer bursted out in laughter, startling annoying Adam. Adam’s brows knitted further as he glared down at the Fallen Angel, “What the fuck are you laughing at?”

“HA- aha- ohoho- oh my golly. Sorry sorry,” Lucifer apologized, very much not looking sorry as he coughed, recovering from his second laughing fit, “It’s just funny you think you’ll just get picked up and sent back to Heaven.”

Adam growled and threw another punch, “Woah! Seems like someone’s angry!” Lucifer said as he moved like fluid, sliding away from Adam’s fist before it could make contact.

Adam swiftly turned to Lucifer’s new location, opting to slash with his new claws. The fucking bitch moved out of the way again, making a pfft sound. 

“Stay. The. Fuck. Still!” Each word was punctuated with another swipe of his hands, desperately trying to cause any damage to Lucifer, who wore a shit-eating grin. However, Adam, being so laser focused on his target, didn’t notice a piece of rubble that laid before him and tripped on it. His wings flapped wildly behind him as he tried to keep himself from falling. He failed. As he simmered with hatred on the ground, Lucifer walked up to him, a hand cocked on his hip like the queer he was.

“You done?” He looked bored. Adam just snarled in response and Lucifer sighed. “Whatever, but trust me,” Lucifer bent down on one knee to get closer to Adam’s eye level as he laid on the ground. His eyes were sharp as he spoke, now much quieter, “you’re gonna want that deal later.”

And with one swift motion Lucifer was standing up again, dusting himself. He turned away, waving a hand above him to signal his leave, “You know where to find me!” Then he was gone. 

Adam quickly pushed himself up as he grumbled things like ‘stupid bitch’ and ‘who the fuck does he think he is?’ to himself. He turned and saw what he assumed to be the new hotel, even bigger than the one he destroyed. His face soured. It wasn’t fair that the filthy demons were thriving while he was left to wander this disgusting place and try to find a way back to Heaven. He didn’t belong here, there had to be a mistake. Adam wasn’t a sinner. 

Right?

Adam paused at the doubt that lingered in his mind. He looked over himself, his hooves, his new clothes, he even lifted his hands to his head to feel the new ears and horns. Not to mention the fucking lamb tail he had, embarrassing as shit. His once beautiful gold wings were now dark red, on the line of being black. He really did look like all the sinners he had murdered throughout the millena. But- but that’s just what Hell does! It doesn’t mean he actually belongs here, it was a mistake! 

Yeah.

Adam walked off away from the rubble and stupid hotel. He didn’t need Lucifer’s help, he didn’t need anyone’s help. He was going to get back into Heaven and then make those demons pay. 

Turns out, Hell is known for being horrible for a reason, who would have guessed? Apparently, being the first man means jackshit to these sinners. You’d think they would have some respect considering they all came from Adam but whatever. Being completely powerless was not a good look for Adam as he was used to picking fights and winning them. Adam learned this when he stomped into a bar.

He’d heard about alcohol and always wanted to try it, the closest he got was wine but he wanted the hard shit. He needed to get back to Heaven but what’s a couple of drinks? It’d be fine, plus, he still ached everywhere and he wanted to dull the pain. He sat down on a stool and looked over what they had. All of it was new to him so he just requested the hardest shit they had. As he waited – impatiently – for his drink, claws tapping rhythmically on the bar, some demons behind him started to laugh and whisper amongst themselves. Adam shrugged it off, it wasn’t about him so he didn’t care, he just wanted his fucking drink. What the fuck was taking so long? 

“Is the little lamb lost?” One of them said in a tone you’d use to talk to a pet. Adam gritted his teeth, claws dipping further into the table as he turned.

“What the fuck did you just say?” Adam growled, staring at the group. It was a bunch of random animals with weird features. Nothing like the ones God had placed in Eden.

“Oh no, did I upset the little guy?” They cooed, despite being much shorter than Adam, who if standing, would have loomed over them. 

Adam snarled and got up from his seat before picking up said seat and chucking it at the offending bastards. No one fucking talked to Adam like that and got away with it. The demons yelped with surprise before wielding their own weapons, which were just a tad bit sharper and more dangerous than a bar stool. 

Adam woke up a few days later, the unfortunately now familiar pain of waking up after death coursing through his body. He couldn’t believe he was bested by a group of sinners but he rationalized it as him simply being outnumbered. It wasn’t a fair fight, that’s why he lost. Adam never lost a fair fight. This was just demons playing dirty. 

He lifted himself up, every movement making him wince. God this hurt so fucking badly. He stumbled and his balance wasn’t great as his mind was clouded in pain. This was embarrassing, he looked and felt so weak. It felt like a mildly strong breeze could crumble him into tiny pieces and he hated it. Enough shitting around, he needed to get back to Heaven. Hell wasn’t any fun without his girls. Or Lute. 

Adam pushed through pain as he walked to the Heaven Embassy, the clean shine being what he was used to. He felt in his element for the first time since waking up in this literal Hell-hole. He pushed open the doors and walked through, it was scarily quiet, the only sound now being Adam’s hooves clicking on the tiles and the door shutting behind him.

“Sera? Seraaaaaaa? Emily? Anyone there?” Adam called out, a hand cupped near his mouth to help project his voice. All that answered were the echoes of his voice calling back to him. Despite being a Heaven built building, it felt cold and eerie – not that it mattered to Adam. It didn’t bother him.

Adam made his way to one of the meeting rooms, hoping to catch someone in there. To his dismay, no one was in any of the rooms – he checked them all. He grumbled, where the fuck were they when he needed them? Of course they were there when he was doing something they didn’t particularly like him doing but not when he needed help.

He huffed and stomped out the Heaven Embassy, some help it was. Adam roamed the blood soaked streets for a while before opting to fly around. Being in the sky was safer nicer than being on the ground and allowed him to see more of the city he was temporarily stuck in. Where else could he go to get in contact with Heaven? For once he was annoyed with the fact that Hell couldn’t easily talk to Heaven. He tilted his wings and started gliding to a tree to perch on, he needed to think.

His wings flapped rapidly to slow his descent until his hooves made contact on the rough bark of a dead tree, wings tucking back to his side. Gripping onto the wood was much harder without toes but he’d make do, goats could do it so he could too. Adam crossed his arms and huffed. What the fuck was he going to do? He didn’t have his magic, he didn’t have his girls, he was completely alone. He couldn’t do anything. Adam sucked in a sharp breath as he processed his helplessness; he couldn’t reach Heaven on his own. He fucking hated needing help – he should be able to do everything on his own. He buried his face in his hands, groaning.

Fuck.

He needed Lucifer’s help.

It physically hurt to think that, making Adam wince as if he had been stabbed again. He needed the freak’s help – there was literally no other way. Lucifer got his bitch a meeting with Heaven so he obviously had contact with them. Adam broke off a tree branch and hurled it at the ground in anger; he just needed to break something. 

Best to get it over with.

Adam’s dark red wings shimmered in the light of Heaven as they spread out, so close yet so far. With a powerful thrust he was back in the air and gliding on the air currents, flapping his wings every now and then. He wasn’t in a rush, in fact, he wanted to prolong this as much as possible. He mulled over the idea of just sticking it out on his own and waiting for Heaven to come looking for him but the idea of dying to lowly sinners again made him shiver. Adam never wanted to feel that weak again and Lucifer was the quickest way to get back to where he belonged.

As he got closer to the hotel it felt like his stomach twisted in uncomfortable ways – he passed it off as the pain just getting worse from him moving a lot. There were a few demons milling about in front, all ranging in appearance; from short and scrawny all the way to fucking massive. Doubts were filling Adam’s mind, was this really worth it? Hell couldn’t be that bad – couldn’t be worse than asking Lucifer for help .

He glided to the ornate entrance, flashing lights adorned every possible place on the leaves below and on a giant apple. The place looked elaborate, it was so fucking bright it hurt to look at. It was horribly obvious that Lucifer had his dirty claws in the creation of this stupid hotel but hopefully that meant that he would be here. Adam finally landed, glaring at anyone who looked at him and before he could think any further about it he knocked on the front door.

“Welcome to the Hazbin Ho-” Lucifer said in a sing-song voice as he dramatically opened the door before cutting himself short as he made eye contact with Adam. The polite smile that had been on his face turned sinister. 

“Well, well, well, who do we have here?” Lucifer grinned, leaning on the doorway.

Adam growled, “Cut the shit, I need to get back to Heaven and I know you can talk to them.”

Lucifer cocked an eyebrow, “And what makes you think I’d help you?”

“Because-”

“Because last time I checked,” Lucifer’s gaze turned sharp as he put a finger to the first man’s chest, “ YOU tried to murder my daughter.” 

He pushed Adam back with his finger as he continued, “ YOU destroyed my daughter’s hotel.”

Lucifer shoved his finger into Adam’s chest again, harsh enough to make Adam land on his ass, “and YOU murdered several of my people.”

Lucifer now stood as the taller of the two, glaring down at Adam as his horns crept out of his head, his tail lashing behind him. “So tell me, why the fuck should I help your sorry ass.”

Adam looked up at him dumbfounded as he processed the venom soaked words before anger settled throughout him again. “Maybe because you tricked me and Eve into eating that fucking apple.”

Adam stood up, his hands curling into fists, “Maybe because you stole my wife – both of them.” 

He now towered over the shorter man, his fangs bared, “And maybe, just fucking maybe , because you ruined humanity before it could properly start.”

The two men glared at each other, neither of them backing down. Adam’s feathers puffed up as his knuckles turned white from how hard his fist were clenched. Lucifer had now fully shifted into what you’d expect of the demon king with his scleras morphing into a blood red with yellow pupils and fully pronounced horns, a small flame flickering between them. A few people were probably looking but all Adam was thinking about is how he wanted to shove this fuckers face into the pavement and zest his skin like the god damn fruit he is. 

They probably would have stayed like that for longer if it wasn’t for a familiar annoyingly cheery voice speaking from within the hotel, “Hey dad, is everything-” Lucifer blinked, his eyes now their normal colors as a look of panic surged across his face and before Adam could even hear what the bitch was saying, Lucifer shoved him backwards.

Adam landed on unfamiliar ground. Lucifer had pushed him onto the floor literally a few minutes ago, why did it feel so different? He sat up and looked around in growing confusion, where the fuck was he? The place looked like a clown came all over a gay bar. Adam wearily stood up for the millionth fucking time, he really needed to stop finding himself on the ground, and started looking around. One thing he noted almost immediately, other than the tacky circus decor, was the amount of ducks everywhere. Look, ducks were cool, Adam liked the things so much he named them one letter away from dick.

Not that he liked dick. That’d be gay and Adam wasn’t a fucking fag.

Anyways, there were too many ducks. They all looked different, one had a bunch of fucking eyes, another had a purple tophat with a red bowtie. What kind of one-animal zoo wannabe place was this? He was brought out of his thoughts by the clicking of Lucifer’s gay ass boots against the tiles. 

“Phew, that was close,” Adam turned around to face the cunt in white. He clapped his hands together, “now, where were we?”

“You were just about to be useful for once and tell Sera I’m stuck down here with you freaks.”

“I think I was actually about to beat your ass a second time,” Lucifer glared before visibly mulling over something and then smiling. 

“Unless,” He held the ‘s’ sound like the serpent he was as he slid closer to Adam. “You want to take me up on my offer?”

Adam pushed him away, “fuck no. I just need you to contact Heaven, no part of that is me agreeing to your dumbass deal.”

Lucifer rolled his eyes, “and why would I help you with no benefit on my part?” 

Adam wished looks could kill so this fucker would be dead already. He huffed, “what even is your deal?”

Lucifer appeared on the other side of him, arm wrapped around his waist – it was the highest he could reach. “I’m so glad you asked!”

Adam groaned as Lucifer began, “if you sign this here paper-” a golden piece of paper and feather materialized in front of Adam, “-then you will have my guaranteed protection from outside threats.”

Lucifer removed his arm and walked to the front of Adam, a smile plastered on his face, “and I get you in return.”

“...Me?” Adam stared blankly at him.

“Yes. I can basically do what I please with you and in return no one else will be able to touch you.”

“Oh hell no,” Adam swatted the paper away from him. “I am not about to be a part of your freaky gay fantasies!” 

Lucifer raised an eyebrow, “I never said I’d use you for sex. Why is that what you want?” He smirked.

“No, that's just what a lonely bitch like you would do,” Adam spat. He couldn’t believe Lucifer was saying that to him of all people. Why in Heaven would he ever want to fuck Lucifer?

Lucifer shrugged, “Either way, this is the only chance you have to not die over and over again, I’ve heard it’s very painful.”

Adam grumbled. There had to be another way, right? Adam shot that thought right as it sprang up as there was no other way, no need to give himself false hope. He could deal with whatever the Devil threw at him and then he’d get the bitch to bring him to Heaven. Yeah, he’d end up as the victor. Lucifer can win this battle but Adam will win the war.

It was still very hard to actually agree to it. It was embarrassing as shit to have to take help from the guy who single handedly ruined your life, but Adam unfortunately knew this was the only way he would escape the repeated death that laid in the millions of sinner’s hands for him. But fuck did it make him angry, he’d have to destroy some shit here later when Lucifer wasn’t watching. 

“Fuckin’ fine, whatever. I’ll sign the stupid paper,” Adam growled, brows furrowed as he wrote his awesome signature on the dumb line. The paper disappeared once he was done writing.

Lucifer looked surprised before it was quickly replaced by a look of smugness. He didn’t deserve to look that satisfied, so in control, so powerful. It wasn’t fucking fair. “Glad you finally saw reason, Adam.”

It made Adam’s stomach turn the way Lucifer said his name, hearing his name roll off the serpent tongue of the King of Hell made him feel sick. 

“Now!” Lucifer clasped his hands together, “let me show you around.”

“Where even are we?” Adam questioned, looking around once more.

“My home of course!”

Adam cringed, “yikes, man. What the fuck is up with all the ducks?”

“Just a habit I picked up,” Lucifer hummed. 

“Weirdo,” Adam mumbled. 

“Anyways, this is my workshop,” Lucifer motioned to the room around him. “Don’t go in here, I like to be alone.”

Adam snickered, “what, jerking off to your ducks? I knew about Lilith leaving you but I didn’t think it was this bad-” Adam was cut off by a swift slap to his face.

“Ow! What the fuck?” Adam barked, a hand reflectively reaching up to sooth his cheek. How had this short fucker even reached him?

“Enough. Do not speak of Lilith,” Lucifer glared, his eyes that shimmering red again.

“Okay, fine, fuck.”

“Now,” Lucifer signaled with his hand for Adam to follow, “Let me show you to your room. I’ve had enough of you today.”

Adam rolled his eyes but followed nonetheless. He hated being told what to do but he didn’t feel like dealing with Lucifer’s whiney ass. They were both quiet as they walked, only the click, clack, click, clack of them walking filled the empty air. The place was fucking huge, it felt like walking through a circus attraction with the sole purpose of getting people lost within its walls. The walls were a deep salmon pink with various knick-knacks filling the walls, from gold and apple decorations framing the windows to gold-framed pictures from different eras. Many of the frames were filled with pictures of him, Lilith and their bitch, they looked undeservingly happy.

Adam ran into the shorter man when he abruptly stopped in front of a door. Lucifer shot a glare up at Adam before clearing his throat, “This is your room, I’ll show you around more tomorrow.”

He held open the door, bowing at Adam. A grin of superiority grew across his face, finally, he was being treated with the respect he deserved. As he crossed through the doorway, his smile faltered as he heard Lucifer say, “Ladies first.”

Before Adam could punch the fucker in his smug face the door was slammed behind him, leaving him alone in his new room.

[kyndredravenstories]

Eyes of Infinity: Chapter 13

Hello, I have been posting my work on AO3 and recently decided to venture here to Tumblr. Please note: This story is 18+. No minors. Please read tags carefully. Link to AO3 below but I will also be posting the chapters here.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/53564641/chapters/150383332

Pairing: Sylus/Female MC with some elements of Xavier/Female MC

Genre: Romance, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst, Adventure, Smut, Porn with Big Plot and Big Feelings

Content Warning (For the entire fic): Explicit sexual content, spoilers and alterations to existing lore and cards/memories/tender moments/secret times, size kink, size difference, vaginal sex, cunnilingus, anal sex, fingering, all kinds of fingering, elements of consensual somno, dom!Sylus, jealousy, possessive!Sylus, Mephisto stalking, typical game violence, battle and combat

Summary: To love him meant stepping over the threshold and crossing into darkness. To be with him meant accepting the lure of the shadows. And to protect him from betrayal meant sacrifice. I knew not how, only that I would not let time sever our paths ever again.

Previous Chapters: Ch 1 / Ch 2 / Ch 3 / Ch 4 / Ch 5 / Ch 6 / Ch 7 / Ch 8 / Ch 9 / Ch 10 / Ch 11 / Ch 12

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Morning sunlight filters through the window in Ellara's room when Sylus's phone buzzes with a phone call from a familiar number. He notes the source but doesn't reach to answer. Instead, he shifts to wrap his arms around the woman in his embrace, nuzzling into her neck, breathing in her scent, and pressing a kiss against her cheek. She stirs, giving a contented sigh as she settles deeper into his arms. His body heats in response to her backside pressing against him, and he has to reign himself in to avoid waking her and continuing where they left off a few hours past at the break of dawn.

Best to let her sleep for now. Her Evol returned sometime in the night, and who knew how hard such a thing was on the body?

He trails a hand down her arm. Beneath his touch, her Evol reaches for him with ghostly fingers, mixing with his own. They meld like lovers, intertwined and interconnected as though they were always meant to be. It's beautiful. Like soft white fireflies. When he weaves his fingers with hers, the union of their Evols hums like a singular ethereal note between their skin. The sensation is like fire in his veins, a pulsing that unifies their heartbeats for a moment.

Too long suppressed, it yearns to be set free, to bond with him, to Resonate.

Or, to Devour.

That's the other side of this light - one its owner has no knowledge of. If only Ellara knew how to wield it, he could feel more at ease. The night at the Mythe wouldn't have been such a traumatic experience. All she would have needed to do was come into his arms and take as much as him as she wanted. Standing beside him, she could have swept away all those in her path. She could have kept the LUMINIS from spilling on her skin. And, if needed, she could have healed all her wounds.

She was his to protect, and he'd been built to have plenty of Evol to spare for his counterpart.

Cliché, really.

Light and darkness.

Always yearning for each other yet always opposing.

But, it's not the first time he'd defied fate to get his way, and it won't be the last.

He doesn't think on it too much. What's the use in fretting over what-if's and maybe's? Right now, in this moment, she is real and here, with him. The second half of his heart that went missing eons ago. At least, that's how it feels at times. Though his body aches for her, Sylus tries to settle for just laying beside her. He runs a fingertip against her cheek. She sighs, but doesn't wake. He'll be surprised if she does.

Things had gotten pretty wild last night, and he'd definitely pushed her well past her limits. Stroking her arm, shoulder, and back with feathery touches, he wrestles with a conundrum of simultaneous regret and satisfaction. Her skin is covered in marks attesting to their lovemaking, and he can't be sure why he regrets being so rough with her when those marks look like they're right where they belong. They're his, after all. Had they been inflicted by anyone or anything else --

His phone buzzes for the second time. Same number. There's only two people who would dare call him twice in such a short span of time. Regrettable, but it's likely something urgent. Letting out a weary sigh, Sylus takes in the sight before him one last time. The flimsy curtains on her window allow daylight to fill the room without hindrance. He despises the warmth and cheer of sunrise, but somehow seeing her lying here, her skin and onyx hair gleaming in the soft oranges and reds of a new day, makes the morning bearable. Almost pleasant.

He shifts off the bed, moving carefully so he doesn't wake her. Snagging a towel from one of her shelves, he grabs his phone and leaves the room to go to the bathroom. After closing the door, he takes a quick shower, wraps the towel around his waist, then leans against the wall to redial the number. Two familiar voices answer. It's the twins.

"Boss, calling in to report."

"Did you lose your phone again, Luke?" Sylus asks.

"We were being tracked. Had to destroy it," Kieran answers.

"And the target?"

Luke replies. "Boss, you need to see the photos we took. Sending them now."

Sylus's phone pings as the files come through. He examines them one by one, his brow furrowing. His heartbeat remains steady, his expression still calm. Outwardly and inwardly, he stays the course of neutrality. But, something unfamiliar tugs at his awareness. A thorn in his thoughts, itching and scratching. It's something that started the night of the Mythe explosions and hasn't stopped since. Many have risen up to challenge his rule in the N109 Zone, yet none had truly challenged him. Looking at these photos, however, makes him wonder if that time is approaching.

His worst case scenario theory about Malakai Noxis had been right on target. He's not just some upstart after all. Though Noxis isn't nearly as powerful as Sylus in terms of Evol and influence, he's a damn nuisance when it comes to resourcefulness and cunning. Swiping through the last of the photos, he downloads them to his phone for later examination. Several pieces of the puzzle fall into place like rocks in his gut, and the picture they reveal is grim.

"He's done it again, Boss-man, just like you said he would," Luke says, his voice full of pride and admiration. His fearless bloodhounds. He could send them into a pit of fire and they'd gladly go.

"You did well," Sylus says, giving his most loyal men a rare compliment. "Stay on him. Be ready. This attempt will leave him weakened for a time." He glances at the watch on his wrist. Too early. He'll chase Noxis during the day if he must, but for now he can leave the twins to handle him while the sun is out.

"Yes, Boss."

He stands still for some time, considering his plans and options. His right hand rubs at his temple. It's never been more clear that Ellara cannot continue to stay in Linkon. This conflict has gone past the boundaries of the N109, and it's about to spill over into this shiny little city of glass. Linkon's people and its structures are as fragile as its principles. It's yet unclear what the end game is for Malakai, but a contingency plan must be made to safeguard Ellara's life. If Sylus has his way, the adopted siblings will never meet again.

Hopefully, her memory of Malakai's true identity will never return. Let her heart be at peace remembering the illusion Malakai showed her all those years while he was by her side. Not as a monster, but as someone she could love and lean on. To ensure that, nothing must jog that memory. Nothing can trigger it. But, hiding her away is just a prison sentence to a woman like Ellara. She must be free to do as she will, and she feels the most freedom when she can be the incredible Hunter she has trained to become.

The thought solidifies his decision.

He makes another call, and a grizzled old voice answers. A man.

"I thought I told you never to call here again," the voice sneers.

"Your threats and orders mean nothing to me," Sylus answers. "I don't have time to discuss semantics. I'm calling in a favor. You owe me plenty, and it's time to start collecting."

"You can't reach me out here," he voice hisses. "You're useless outside N109."

"Alright," Sylus smiles. "What do you want to bet against that delusion of yours? Your wife? Your son? Maybe the whole family."

"You monster. You would--"

"Don't ask questions you already know the answers to," Sylus drawls. "If you make me waste any more time, I'll be more aggressive in my collection of your debt."

The voice cusses him out with a few colorful words, but settles down. "What do you want?"

"Nothing too strenuous. I need you to transfer a few Hunters on assignment to another city. I'm sending you the list of names now."

"We're short here as is," the voice complains. The ping ping ping of a tablet touch screen being manipulated. More expletives. "These are some of my best, and you want me to send them away?"

"Not my problem. Put in the transfer now."

The line goes quiet for a few minutes. More pings. When the voice comes back, it sounds tired and defeated. "God damn you, Sylus. One day, you'll pay for all you've done."

"I don't make deals I can't uphold," Sylus replies, pushing the button to end the call.

That done, he makes his way back to the bed. He hasn't slept in a few days, and the edges of his vision are starting to fog. He lays down beside Ellara, examining her sleeping face. It's time to take a rest. Perhaps he could truly shut his eyes for once knowing the twins are following Malakai. Not for long. Just a few hours.

Just for a short while.

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I wake up feeling warm and comfortable.

It doesn't take more than a second to realize that I'm not alone in my bed.

I'm laying in the crook of a man's arm.

I look up, shocked to see that Sylus is sleeping. Beneath my head, his chest is rising and falling steadily, and his heart is beating at a lazy cadence as always. I'm scared to move, worried that I'll break this incredible moment. I've never really seen Sylus asleep. He's always sitting up or leaning against something, even in bed. Always wary and alert even while secure in his home in N109. Then again, I suppose there is never any security for a man like him. The King must be ever vigilant if he is to keep his place and rule over the Underworld.

That's why the scene I'm witness to is so...captivating. Seeing him close his eyes and show me this kind of vulnerability is surreal. How can he trust me to this extent? Sure, we've admitted to having some feelings for each other. But, crimes of passion are a thing. Isn't he worried I might try to hurt him? That I might be deceiving him?

I'd sooner hurt myself.

I check that line of thought.

Man, I'm in over my head with this guy. It's not just the crazy sex, either. It's all of him. If I try to piece together the trail of how I'd fallen this hard, I couldn't. It's an endless reel of flashbacks to moments just like this where he did something that stole my breath away. His gestures, the way he holds my hand, the way he looks at me, the way he has me wrapped around his finger yet never ever encroaches on my freedom or my independence. The way his long eyelashes brush against his cheekbones. How kissable his mouth is.

He smells like my body wash, and there's something really intimate about it. He must have showered while I was sleeping. How he fit his big burly frame in my tiny rabbit hutch of a shower is a mystery instantly solved with flashbacks of how we were both squished in there last night. The thought makes my knees tingle. I run my hand down his bare chest and abs. His skin is light and pale with blue veins accenting an array of battle-hardened muscle. Smooth and hairless except for a faint trail of starlit silky hair leading down to a place I am way too embarrassed to think about right now. My face heats up.

I rise up on my elbow, noting that it's late morning. I should really get up and get the day started. Look at my phone. Report in. But, I'm out of sorts. Discombobulated like an Otto with a damaged AI module. I can't think of anything except the man in front of me. My former workaholic life seems especially far away, like a daydream. Not to mention, I can't explain anything about what happened at the Destiny Café. I'm dreading the missed calls I'll find on my phone, either from UNICORNS or from Xavier. They'll undoubtedly have questions, but I don't have any answers.

I check in with my memories from last night. Something is definitely off. I remember being at my apartment and reading, thinking about my impending meeting with Malakai. After that, everything is a giant gaping black hole until the moment when I stood outside the burning café with Sylus. I remember feeling dazed and confused; I'd thought at the time I might have been in shock. I figured it would wear off, but it hasn't. It worries me that I still don't remember anything.

Did something happen to me inside that café that could have affected my memory? Was Sylus a witness to it? If so, why hasn't he brought it up?

Well, I guess we were busy with other things...

Too antsy to lay still now, I slowly untangle myself from his arms and scoot to the edge of the bed. I'm naked, a fact I remedy as swiftly as possible as I dash to the bathroom for a quick shower. When I'm facing the mirror and washed out lights, I grimace at the sight of my body. I bruise easily; I always have. But, the amount of marks on my skin astounds me. My neck, my shoulders, a few places on my stomach, and - oh god - was did he do to my thigh to make that mark?

Nothing hurts though. No stinging or anything. No soreness except for my lower back, but the way we went at it that's no surprise. Not to mention, I've never been with a guy so...well endowed.

"Ugh," I groan, embarrassed. I try to remember if any of this hurt last night or this morning, but all I can recall is the incredible pleasure I felt and how gentle and thoughtful Sylus was. He's the most perceptive and attentive lover I've ever had, though to be honest my experience isn't much to speak of. Again, I find myself wondering if I could ever handle him when he's not holding back. Judging by the state of my skin, I'm not so sure.

Not now, Ellara. Focus.

I shower quickly and efficiently. The memories I've recently made in this cabin are too much for my sensibilities to handle. I don't know whether I did the right thing by inviting Sylus up last night or not. Part of me feels like I didn't have much choice. I'd wanted him so badly, and no amount of good sense or pride could have stopped me. He's Pandora's Box, and I've only scratched the surface. There's definitely more to him, and I want to see it.

I wrap a towel around my body and carefully sneak out of the bathroom, knowing how light of a sleeper Sylus is. Afterwards I seek out my phone, still in the back pocket of the pants I'd discarded last night. My throat goes tight at those particular memories. I can't help but rush to cover my face with my hands, barely suppressing a sound of pure mortification. Hopefully these flashbacks subsist soon or I won't be able to function today. I'm still doing the walk of shame as I tip toe to my closet to throw on a bathrobe.

Taking a breath, I check my phone and flinch. Missed calls from the Captain, Xavier, even Tara. Running my hand through my hair, I pad to the kitchen and sit at the breakfast table to make some calls while sipping on orange juice. I start with Tara since she's the least threatening in the mix. We talk briefly about what happened last night, but she's primarily focused on inviting me over for a girls night. Her recovery is progressing well, and she's ready to get back into her normal routine. I'm relieved to hear that my friend is alright.

Next is the Captain. I'm interrogated for a good forty-five minutes on this call. The end result is less than pleasant. Jenna is relieved to hear that my Evol has returned but recommends that I take a week off for my mental health. It's clear that I'm a target for Noxis, and she needs time to arrange a new assignment schedule for me. Despite my protests, she wants to temporarily transfer me to work in another city. Knowing Xavier and how protective he is of his partner, she also wants to add him to that assignment.

As it happens, there's currently urgent need for Hunters in Goldwood City. I look up the location on my phone, noting that it's closer to the N109 Zone than Linkon. It's a smaller city; not as developed as here. More rural areas with mountainous regions. Not as many training facilities and not nearly as big a budget for the local Hunters. A sudden outbreak of Wanderers has necessitated the establishment of a quarantine zone. Within a week, the zone will be established and most citizens evacuated to allow Hunters to subdue the threat.

I scratch my head. Well, at least it will keep me busy. I was itching to get back into the swing of things, wasn't I? So why do I feel so dejected as I accept the assignment? Though I try to protest against the additional week off, Jenna is firm, telling me that if I keep arguing with her she'll recommend that I start going to therapy on top of my medical leave. In less than two months, I'd been in several traumatic situations, lost my Evol, miraculously recovered, and now am the target of a major criminal organization. The fact that I haven't had a mental breakdown yet is unbelievable, she says. If only she knew that I had an incredible support network in Xavier and Sylus.

As crazy as that last part sounds.

"There are rumors, Fireborne, that you're in a relationship."

The question comes out of nowhere. I almost choke on my glass of juice.

"E-Excuse me?" I cough.

"Is it something I need to be concerned about?" Jenna asks. Her tone has softened considerably.

"Why would something like that be of concern?" I frown.

She sighs. "It's tough being a woman in this field, Ellara." It's the first time she's called me by my name. "Men can get married, have families, and keep fighting if they so choose. But, a woman has so many more responsibilities and duties. Once we have a child, we no longer just belong to ourselves."

Children? Marriage? My brain short circuits. I rush to stop her. "Please, Captain. Hang on. There's absolutely no reason to think in that direction." I leave it there, unwilling to divulge any more of my personal life.

"I'm sorry if I've overstepped in this case. There was some hearsay, and the way Xavier defended you when you went on medical leave..."

My cheeks grow hot. "Y-You thought...with Xavier?" I'm relieved yet somehow still embarassed. "Oh. No. Not at all. Xavier and I are absolutely only partners. That's it."

"It's hard to believe a partner would look at you like he does," she observes.

I shake my head. "I assure you, Captain, we are only friends."

"I see. Again, apologies if I've overstepped. I just see myself in you, Ellara, and I want to help. You know I care for my team. I have some regrets about never taking time to connect with someone. I hope you can consider that advice. Even if you do find that for yourself, you are going to grow stronger and make it far in our organization. Keep up the excellent work."

"Thank you, Captain."

When I hang up the call, I drop my head over my folded arms on the table. I give a monstrous groan like a blaster rifle venting steam. Did Captain Jenna just try to give me advice on relationships? Despite my initial shock, I actually do appreciate that she cares enough to show me such a different side to her character. Though I do wonder how far her opinion of me would fall if she knew that I already was in love with someone - the leader of Onychinus to be more precise.

Oh Lord.

After a few more deep breaths, I pick up my phone and find Xavier's contact. I don't know why I'm so nervous about this call. It's just as I told Jenna. He's my partner. Just a friend. So then why have things been so impossibly awkward between us since he first brought me back from N109? Why did I feel like I was committing some kind of crime when I told him I wasn't alone over the phone last night? While I'm stewing in angst and emotions, a text comes through and lights up my screen. It's none other than the object of my thoughts. I tap to open the message.

X: Heard about the transfr. Miss U. Will B home tonight.

I read it again. Then again. Suddenly, I'm doubting my sanity. This message doesn't sound like something you would send to a friend.

"My Knight", Sylus had called him.

Mine.

Why would he say it that way? Sure, Sylus likes to play on words at times. But, he's the most perceptive man I know. Has he picked up on something that I hadn't even considered? The thought is like a stake to the chest. Winded, I frantically begin reading through our message history with fresh eyes unclouded by the banalities of day to day survival. What I find is so disturbing that I don't know how to react to it.

All this time, I was under the impression that Xavier and just had a kind of natural platonic intimacy. We held hands and hugged. We spent a lot of time together. We ate dinner and slept over at each other's apartments. We went to the arcade and played games together. Yet, somehow, there was something growing between us that I had completely failed to pick up on. What started as a friendship had evolved over time into something a lot more intimate without me realizing it. Xavier led in his own graceful silent way, and I had followed without a second thought.

My sudden panic gives me a strange kind of courage. I dial Xavier's number, my heart pounding in my chest. He answers after a few dial tones.

"Ellie? Is everything alright?"

I'm not at all prepared for the way I react to that new nickname. I struggle to answer without stuttering.

"Yes...Xavier...I need to ask you something..."

A beat, then -- "Ask away."

"Look, maybe there's something wrong with me. Maybe I hit my head last night and I'm confused. The Captain just called and asked me some stuff, and it got me thinking in a really weird direction. I just need to know that I'm not crazy."

"You can ask me anything you want," he says. I stop. Take a breath. There's definitely affection in his voice. My god, why hadn't I realized it sooner? Maybe it's because he's Xavier - the Xavier. The strongest Hunter. Unbelievably handsome. A star way out of reach for an ordinary little bookworm like me.

"We're friends right? And friends should always be honest with each other." I wring my hands together. "All this time, I've always had a firm understanding of our relationship. We're partners and friends. That's it." I'm biting my lip now, and I can feel myself starting to sweat. "But, after this talk with Jenna, I feel like I might go crazy unless I just talk to you and ask. I've never thought of us in any other way, and if I make you uncomfortable--"

"You're not crazy," he says, his voice going soft.

My mind blanks out.

"What?"

Silence on the other of the line. With each second that passes, I sweat more and more. "Ellie, I don't want to talk about this over the phone. Can you wait until I come back tonight? There is something I should have told you a long time ago. I just didn't want to put pressure on you."

Oh. My. God.

That sounds like a damn confession.

Wait. Hold the phone. I'm not ready to have this discussion. Not in the least. Not when I have a naked man in my bed this very minute whom I've confessed my feelings for already.

"A-Alright," I answer, though nothing is alright at all. "But, Xavier...I don't know if I..."

"Don't think that far ahead. Just meet me tonight so I can say my piece." He stops for a moment. "Can you do that?"

"Yes. I will."

We end the call, and I sit in my chair feeling completely lost. I pull on the ends of my hair, rub the bridge of my nose, eat a whole box of strawberry Pocky from the stress. What am I supposed to do? I care for Xavier. That part is undeniable. He's an essential part of my life. He's my friend. My partner. But, he's also a little more, too. I just don't know how to identify what that "little more" is right now. With where I am right now, do I even try?

I stand up and walk to the bedroom. My breath catches when I see Sylus still laying in the same position I'd left him in. The way the sun caresses his muscular torso makes me swallow hard. All other thoughts completely vacate my head, all of my focus honing in on my gorgeous bed mate. I walk the rest of the way to his side as though possessed. Like I'm in a trance, I sit on the edge of the bed right beside him and lean down to touch his silky hair. I'm afraid to breathe, afraid to shatter this just like I was earlier.

In fact, that's how I feel about this whole thing between Sylus and I. This thing we've labeled as love but have failed to categorize in any other way. It's new, and amazing, and still so delicate. It's too good to be real. It's as stunning and beautiful as stained glass, yet the slightest malignant wind could break it. Sure, I could walk away from it now. I could try. But, something tells me that I would always come back. From the moment I met him, this man felt like destiny embodied. A comet streaking through the night sky destined to collide with my world and make a complete mess of it.

One moment, I'm reaching for him.

Something yanks on my arm.

The next second, Sylus's red eyes are all I see as I'm flipped over onto my back on the mattress. I'm held in place by hands and Evol, and I don't dare to move. I falter under his penetrating gaze and mumble an apology for waking him. For a moment, he doesn't react. I hold my breath against a rush of adrenaline. He may be my lover, but in this instant, he's pinning down a potential threat.

One moment.

Two.

Then his features soften, the aggression in his eyes melting into tired affection.

"You're lucky I'd know your footsteps anywhere," he murmurs, his voice husky from sleep. "Be careful sneaking up on me."

I nod. He doesn't need to explain. Right now, his Evol feels sharp, dangerous. His gaze is cold and wary. Of course he's always on high alert. This is Sylus of Onychinus. He just makes me lose sight of who he is so often that I forget myself around him. I still don't understand how he's able to compartmentalize his feelings and emotions the way he does. Maybe it's a skill he could teach me one day.

He doesn't give me a chance to apologize again. In another blink, he's laying on his side and pulling me up against him. With a sigh, he settles his chin against the top of my head; his large muscular arm wraps around my waist. It's so warm and wonderful. I'm absolutely trapped. Whatever I wanted to do today is probably not getting done after all, and I'm suddenly entirely OK with that. For propriety, though, I need to protest even a little.

"Sylus, I can't sleep now."

"You can," he assures me. "You hardly slept last night."

"I have to go to the armory at UNICORNS and update my weapons."

"Forget that junk. I'll have someone bring much better ones later," he practically waves me off.

"There's paperwork I need to turn in, too."

"Send it electronically. You can't tell me the Association doesn't have holo-mail."

"But, Sylus..."

"You're fussy this morning, kitten," he grumbles. I jerk when his lips brush my ear. "Since you've delivered yourself to me, don't think about leaving just yet. Stay here for a bit."

Well, shit. I can't resist when he puts it like that, can I? And why would I even want to? I let my body relax, wrapping my hand around his big forearm. "I really do have a lot to prepare...I need to train. They're forcing me to take a week off before sending me to Goldwood City on a temporary transfer."

He doesn't say anything to that. "You don't seem surprised," I add.

"They send Hunters where they're needed, right?"

"Yes, this isn't the first time I've left Linkon for missions like this."

"Well, then," he shifts against me. "As it happens, I also have some business to take care of. But, after that, come spend the rest of your week off with me."

"With you? Where?"

"I have a way to help you train and get into shape before your return to duty." There's a playful bit of sarcasm in his voice. Whatever he's planned isn't anything I can possibly predict, nor is it a way for me to just train. But, I'm too curious to turn him down.

"Alright, but can you answer me something about last night? My memory is still foggy..."

"Malakai was there," he replies without missing a beat. "You met with him. When I arrived, you had him on the ground injured and at gun point. He set off an explosive."

My hand tightens on his forearm. "That's why your shirt is in tatters. You protected me."

He makes a noncommittal noise, as though what he did was insignificant.

"Why were you there? Did Mephisto give you my message? Even if he did, you got there so fast."

"I was already in the neighborhood," he says. "As for why, well...didn't you ask me to come?"

I frown. "Did anyone find his body?" I take Sylus's silence as a 'no'. "Does that mean that Malakai is..."

"He escaped," Sylus finishes. "The twins are on his trail now. Once I locate him, he will deeply come to regret his actions."

But, will you kill him?

I don't ask the most prominent question on my mind. Sylus has never once hidden who he is from me. Nor have I ever deluded myself about the depth and darkness of his nature. To be the King, one must be ruthless. It's part of who he is and who he must be to stay at the top. I've never seen him act irrationally. Nor have I seen him murder any innocents. Perhaps that's a way for me to escape from the moral responsibility of loving a man like this. But, I don't care.

"We won't see each other for the next few days, then," I murmur.

"Mephisto will be with you," Sylus says. He sounds like he's drifting off again. "And if you should need me before our next meeting, all you have to do is call for me."

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It's evening when I open my eyes again. I sit up and rub at my bleary eyes, noting that I'm incredibly thirsty. I must have been out for a few hours. I search for Sylus, but the bed is empty. The spot where he slept is cold, which means he left quite some time ago. I close my eyes against a pang of loneliness, but I don't let it slow me down. Checking my phone, I see a text message from an unknown number.

Don't forget to eat.

I add the number to my contacts, labeling it "Mephisto". After downing a few bottles of vitamin water to rehydrate, I throw on a hoodie and leggings in favor of the bath robe I'm wearing and head to the kitchen to grab something to eat. Somehow, when I open the fridge and see it well stocked with ready-made meal kits, I'm not surprised. I reach for the phone in my pocket and write a snarky message:

E: Looks like you raided a flash sale at a nearby convenience store. Was a private chef too expensive?

I laugh at my own words. Just imagining Sylus going to the grocery store is absurd. His reply pings a few minutes later as I'm unwrapping a chicken and rice bowl to put it in the oven.

M: I didn't want him to wake you. If you want, I'll arrange for one tomorrow.

As always, he calls my bluff. I rush to answer with a resounding "no thank you", knowing Sylus is definitely the type to go ahead and send a private chef to my ratty little apartment if I don't cover my bases.

E: Thank you for doing this. It will save me time this week.

M: Take better care of yourself. If you need anything, tell me.

My heart melts at that. I think about him nonstop the whole time I'm eating and washing dishes. Just as I'm wiping my hands with a washcloth, a knock at my door startles me out of my reverie. I pad over to my front door and open it without checking the viewing window.

Blue eyes, clear and true as the summer sky, meet mine. There stands Xavier, wearing a black uniform he's been donning quite often lately. He looks frazzled, something I'm not used to seeing at all. Instantly worried, I step forward.

"Xavier, are you OK? Did you just return from the mission?"

He nods.

"You should have gone home first. Rested."

"No," he cuts me off, his voice low. "I don't want to wait anymore."

"Alright," I answer, my shoulders and body tensing. I haven't exactly been looking forward to this conversation. "Well, at least come in. Sit down. Let me get you something warm to drink." His hair and shoulders are covered in little clumps of white snow. He must be soaked under that armor. He agrees to my offer, letting me lead him to the living room and equip him with a large towel for his head. While he's drying off, I make him some hot tea.

"Here," I say as I serve it to him on a small dessert plate with a box of chocolate Pocky on the side. "Though I still think you should go home and change. You'll catch a cold like this."

"I'll be fine," he counters.

Nervous, I sit down on the other side of the couch. "Xavier, before you say anything, please know that I don't feel ready for this conversation. I don't know how I would respond to--"

"I like you," he cuts in. "I've liked you for a very long time now." His perfect blue eyes stare right through me, confident and unwavering. He shifts toward me, and I shift backwards in response. But, there's nowhere to go. I've reached the armrest. Xavier stops moving when he sees my discomfort. He looks down.

"I waited too long," he says, his voice gravelly and full of regret. He reaches out for my hand. I hesitate, but I can't deny him this. Not when he looks so forlorn. My chest tight, I let him weave our fingers together. That "little bit more" I identified earlier squeezes around my heart like a thorny vine.

"Xavier, I...like Sylus." It comes out of my mouth before I can stop it, my lips stumbling on the word "love" and downgrading it. My mind is numb; my filter went flying the moment Xavier confessed to me. The words keep coming as though released from a dam. "I don't know when or how it happened, but I care about him a lot. I have no idea what we are or where this is going, but...I want to find out." My eyes sting. "I'm sorry. I'm really really sorry."

Using the hand that's holding mine, he pulls me into a tight hug. We stay that way for a while, my shoulders shaking, until he finally speaks again.

"I'll wait," he says past gritted teeth. His whole body is tense, like he's about to jump into battle. "I've waited this long, haven't I?"

I shake my head. "No, you can't do that. That's just--"

"I'll wait," he says again, more forcefully this time. I try to pull back, but he holds firm. "Give me a minute, please. I don't want you to see my expression right now."

A long time passes. Many thoughts fly through my head. At last, I come to a decision. It's one that's going to hurt, but I've never been so sure of anything. When he lets me pull back from him, I raise my chin and force myself to look deep into his eyes.

"Xavier, don't accept the transfer to Goldwood. Let me go alone. We can't be partners when there's this much unsettled between us."

His gaze darkens. "You're asking me to leave you alone again. Just like before."

I shake my head. "No. This isn't the same thing."

"You're my partner, Ellie."

The vine squeezes harder, and I bite my lip. "Yes, but...I can't keep hurting you."

"Give me your boundaries," he says. "Tell me what I have to do to make you more comfortable. I'll do whatever you ask. But, I won't leave you."

I lower my eyes, feeling defeated. "I need to think about all this. It's too much for me right now."

"Then forget we talked about it." He takes a breath. "There's still time before the transfer. Take that time to think. I'll stay out of it."

He stands up and heads for the front door. I can't stop him; don't have the right. Not when there's a chance I was inadvertently leading him on all this time. He's pulling away just like he always has in the past when it seemed like we grew too close. Before, I always chased him. Now, I have to give him space, too. It's only fair.

"Have a good night," he says as he shuts the door behind him. In the wake of him leaving, I'm still sitting on the couch. Still lost. Still hurting. There's only one thing I'm certain of, and it's that my feelings for Sylus aren't just some temporary crush. They're as real as these kind of things probably get, and that means that asking Xavier to wait for me is completely selfish. I need to communicate my stance better, but how can I do that when I really still have no idea where my relationship with Sylus stands?

In that moment, I make it my goal to have that discussion with Sylus during our time together. I can't put it off anymore. I need to know what we are to each other and where he sees all of this going.

It's a while before I stand up and clear off Xavier's untouched plate. I want to text him a reminder to get dry and warm, but I stop myself. Give him space. Right now, we both need time to think. I slide open my living room window, hoping that some fresh air will help clear my head. As though on cue, Mephisto flies inside with a cranky squawk and settles on my shoulder. I pet the top of his head, my eyes stinging.

"Sorry to make you wait, Your Majesty," I say through trembling lips. A tear slips past my self control. Mephisto's ruby red eyes take it in. For once, he's silent. "S-Sorry," I tell him, wiping a trail of snot off my nose. "Life just got super complicated, Mephy, and I have no idea how to deal with it."

[book-of-baba-fett]

Illicit Affairs - Chapter 22

Captain Rex x OC

Previous Chapter

Chapter Summary: In the final chapter, Talia reflects on how she's grown once receiving positive news from the war front that gives hope to the future.

Chapter Rating: M

Warnings: MAJOR angst, death, grief, alcohol,

A/N: Y'all it's finally here. More notes to come at the end, but thank you for your support in this wild ride. Firs though, a shoutout to @cyarbika for letting me use Kork in this fic, tbh defining how I view 79s, and for holding this plot in for what, a year now lol?? and the biggest love to @galacticgraffiti - you have been my guide for this entire fic, I wouldn't have made it here without your beta reads. ilysm 💜. also thanks for letting me borrow your OC, Eya!

Ao3 Link

Series Masterlist

21 BBY – Coruscant 

Talia had been in bars probably from too young an age; her early missions with her Master often brought them to the seedy corners of the galaxy in search of information. What she lacked was the experience of going out and enjoying a bar, and 79’s was a much different atmosphere than the bars she had been in before. When the doors opened, she was slammed by the bright lights, the loud music, and the thrum of relief and energetic comradery bouncing off every surface.

There were holoscreens illuminating half the walls, clones engaging in drinking games or other friendly bets, beautiful men and women dressed in revealing outfits in the hopes of finding a partner for a night. It was a lot for Talia to take in: the lights, the noise, the energy a near concussive assault on her senses. But once she settled in the booth with the men she had only known a short amount of time yet had already grown to care for so much, it all calmed down somewhat.

         Talia was surprised by how easily they welcomed her, but then again it had beenChurch’s insistence that had brought her out in the first place and Storm’s assurance that had swayed her. She didn’t want to be in the way, thinking that going out with the men she commanded would just burden their night off. But as she sat with them, and they tossed around jokes from the recent campaign, she saw it for what it was: a need to debrief and decompress after the stress. She felt honored that they included her, and even realized how much she needed something like this instead of going to the Temple or even hanging out with her civilian friends who just wouldn’t get it. Talia was still getting used to the title of General, still felt weirdly empty when her hands ran through her hair and she no longer felt her Padawan braid. So, it was nice to have a night where she didn’t have to think about any of it.

The downside to her inexperience in bars was she had no idea what to drink. She followed the boys lead and drank the awful free beer they were served, but decided she couldn’t stomach the stuff. When Storm noticed her displeasure he did her the favor of ordering her a gin and tonic, which he informed her was his usual drink. After she downed it and was already sporting a light buzz, she decided to treat her men to something a bit better than the standard beer, and ordered a round for all of them. She excused herself to a round of cheers, her cheeks warming in a flush from the alcohol. The bartender was more than happy to give her a recommendation for a better ale and recommended a cocktail for Talia to try.

        The feeling of being out of place inched back in as she patiently waited for her round of drinks, tapping her fingers on the counter and trying to blend into the crowd when she was bumped from the side.

“Excuse me, I’m sorry ma’am, the crowd pushed a lot more than-“ a clone’s voice sincerely apologized, only to cut off as Talia turned to see Captain Rex’s face darkening from a flush as he recognized the Jedi next to him. “Oh, General Riva! I’m so sorry I didn’t see you there. And I’m sorry again for knocking into you-“

Talia chuckled at his flustered words, but shook her head, “It’s ok, Captain. It’s crowded in here; I had to fight my way to the bar.”

Rex’s face relaxed at that, a small grin even toying at his lips, “Well, you could just use the Force to part the crowd, be more efficient.”

Talia snorted, then blushed from the embarrassing noise that had escaped her, but Rex didn’t seem to notice. “The men already seem intimidated by a Jedi being here, I don’t need to draw more attention to it.”

“That reminds me, I should probably make sure my boys are on best behavior tonight then,” Rex grumbled, tossing a look over his shoulder at a booth filled with clones in the 501st blue armor. Talia hadn’t worked with them enough to know all their names yet, but she recognized a few from a recent mission. They seemed to be having fun, or maybe having an argument by the way some of them were pointing and shouting at each other. Maybe a bit of both, Talia supposed.

“Don’t dampen their fun on my account,” Talia said, “We all need a break.”

Rex huffed out a laugh and nodded at that, “You can say that again. And you wouldn’t dampen their fun at all; in fact, I’m worried it would be the other way around.”

“What do you mean?” Talia asked confusedly.

“Oh, nothing,” Rex answered quickly, as if he had gotten too close to admitting something he didn’t want to say. “Just that...I think my men wouldn’t leave you alone, that you wouldn’t be able to enjoy your night without them bothering you.”

“Oh, they wouldn’t bother me!” Talia insisted. “I liked working with you all on Taanab; Fives and Echo had me cracking up.”

Rex shrugged. “Echo can control himself, Fives on the other hand…”

“Oh yeah, he’s a flirt,” Talia cut in. Rex looked at her wide eyed then laughed. “You think I didn’t catch any of that? I can’t imagine what he’d be like with the influence of alcohol.”

“Again, why I hope they don’t bother you.” Rex muttered, once again casting a glance back at the booth, only to see some of the brothers, including the one in question, watching them at the bar.

Rex sighed and murmured something under his breath then glanced back at Talia. He straightened himself up, facing the bar again, “What are you drinking? Can I get you a round?”

“I already ordered,” Talia explained, nodding her head in the direction of the bartender,  “and I wouldn’t let you get me a drink anyway. In fact, I’m getting you one.”

Rex shook his head, “I can’t let you do that.”

“I insist. You serve under Anakin; I know you must be in dire need of alcohol,” Talia said.

Rex laughed again, still shaking his head, “I’m fine with just the Kork.”

“Wow, you are a horrible liar,” Talia observed, smirking as the Captain attempted to deny it. She wasn’t even using the Force, but after experiencing the stuff herself she assumed you had to lack taste buds to enjoy it. “I don’t see how you guys can swallow the stuff.”

“The fact that it’s free helps,” Rex admitted, “But really General; I’m fine.”

“Nonsense,” Talia waved off as the bartender came back around with Talia’s drinks. She glanced at Rex, ready to take his order when Talia cut in, “Could you get another one of these ales for the Captain? And put it on my tab?”

The bartender was off before Rex could argue, “Thank you, but you don’t have to.”

“I know, but I want to,” Talia insisted. “It’s the least I can do.”

“Well, usually it’s the clone buying the girl a drink in here,” Rex offered, a slight smirk on his face. Talia’s face felt warm – a weird reaction, she thought.

“Guess you’ll just owe me a round the next time, Captain,” Talia replied. “I have to say it’s nice to see you on a night out, you seem a lot less... stressed.”

“In truth, this isn’t my usual thing. I was convinced to join,” Rex explained.

“Same here,” Talia added, “Sometimes, our men know what we need more than we ourselves do, I guess.”

“But we can’t admit that to them.” There was that smirk again. Talia tried to ignore the way it lit up his face, how it enhanced how handsome he was. It had to be the alcohol in her, making her warm and encouraging her eyes to linger on his face. 

“And for what it’s worth, it’s “You kind of have,” Talia said, earning a confused look from Rex. “Naboo? The Gala?”

“Oh well… I don’t think that’s fair to count because I didn’t know you were a Jedi.” Rex offered, his hand reaching to scratch the back of his neck. “And you weren’t exactly off duty.”

“Fair, fair,” Talia shrugged.  “But then I was much better dressed for a night out.”

“You look perfect,” Rex said it so simply but stopped himself suddenly, the skin on his neck and cheeks darkening slightly. Talia’s own cheeks burned once more, but she didn’t know what to say in return. Rex also seemed speechless at his own admission, and for a moment they lingered on it, silent but surrounded by the loud music and conversations echoing around them. Talia searched for a witty response, or even hoped some words of thanks would leave her tongue, but instead found herself horrendously lacking any reply. Not from embarrassment or discomfort, but almost because Rex’s words had caught her off guard. Talia felt she should say something to ease the blush creeping in on the Captain as he obviously seemed as surprised by the compliment he had paid her.  She supposed she could offer the same reply back, but felt lame and she didn’t even know why she was at a rare loss for words, but she didn’t get a chance to salvage her own lapse.

 “Captain!” They were interrupted as Fives pushed his way in beside Rex, wrapping his arm over Rex’s shoulder and admonishing his brother teasingly, “Stop flirting with Talia so we can get on with the game!”

Talia didn’t think it was possible, but Rex’s face darkened further as his jaw dropped. His eyes darted back to Talia as he sputtered out “I wasn’t-“

“Sure sure,” Fives waved off, his voice slurring a bit, “you’ll just deny it again. General, looking great as always, but I’m going to steal our captain for a bit.”

“Sorry for holding him up for so long,” Talia answered, her cheeks still aflame. She directed a small smile back at Rex, who looked torn between dying of embarrassment and like he had the temptation to kill his brother. “Have a fun night, hope to see more of you soon.”

“Thanks, you too, Talia,” Rex said as Fives dragged him off. Talia watched them go, her cheeks aching from the smile stuck on her face. It was weird, he had only ever referred to her as General. She liked the way her name sounded coming off his lips.

19 BBY – Coruscant

79’s hadn’t visibly changed much in the time since Talia had first walked through its doors, yet the way she knew it had evolved entirely. It wasn’t an unknown space; it was filled with memories. Its walls echoed with the joy of time spent away from war with friends who she would never forget, some who had grown to be like family… and Rex, who was so much more. Talia knew the workers, had collected bits and pieces of their lives through conversation and they felt as ingrained to the place as the clones who it was built for. As she walked in, Talia smiled in greeting at the large Nautolan bouncer, Eya.  Those who didn’t know them would see them as imposing from their size, the tattoos decorating their violet skin, the spikes protruding from their knuckles and the cybernetic eye that contrasted to the deep black of their organic one, but Talia recognized there was a strange, comforting softness underneath the façade. They were also friends with Storm, who Talia had come to 79’s with that night, and he stayed back to chat with Eya while Talia grabbed a booth, seeking a private space for the conversation she wanted to have. 

The 412th’s last campaign had been relatively easy work, but they had missed the battle on Coruscant, something that seemed to bother the men as they wanted the chance to defend the center of the Republic themselves, but sometimes other duties called first. They were granted leave as soon as the campaign had ended, and Talia felt relief when they approached the planet and she didn’t see much damage on the surface. Coruscant had been her home for as long as she could remember, the whole planet and the temple especially had always seemed so untouchable before the war. The bombing of the temple was a stark reminder of how war could always hit unexpectedly, and she was grateful the siege of the planet hadn’t lasted long.

As the Venator approached Coruscant, they received the news that was the cause for her and Storm’s meeting tonight. Master Kenobi had engaged Grievous in battle on the Utapau system. With Count Dooku dead, the Separatist leadership was fractured, and if Obi-Wan could defeat Grievous, they would crumble and the war would be over. It was strange to hope, considering how many times the General had evaded defeat before, but something felt different this time. He didn’t have Dooku to crawl back to for support, and Grievous didn’t garner the same level of following that the charismatic Sith had. Without Grievous and Dooku, there was no one to step in, no way the Separatists could still fight. 

In other news from the war front, Talia had received word from Rex. Ahsoka’s mission on Mandalore had been a success, and they had captured Maul. Talia had never been more afraid for Rex than she was when she heard what his mission was; Maul had haunted her dreams for too long. She had taken that as a warning that something would happen to Rex on Mandalore, fighting against the former Sith. It would have been too cruel for Talia to lose Rex to Maul, to someone who had caused so much pain and suffering for her already. Especially when they were finally at the cusp of victory, on the brink of what they were fighting for.

Things with Rex weren’t fully back to what they had been, but that was what they had agreed upon. They needed to focus, be on their best without the distraction that they brought to each other. But it was better than the weeks they had spent apart, trying to act as if the other didn’t exist. They still sent each other messages, updating with what was going on in their respective corners of the galaxy, chatting if they had a free moment but truth be told, those were rare to come by. It wasn’t much, and it left a craving for more, but it also gave a promise for what they could have when this was all over. Somehow, Talia knew they would come out of this stronger than they had been before, that Rex and she could build something new off the foundation they had. And it felt like the will of the Force was suddenly on their side, like something would finally move to end this war, to end all the pain that had been inflicted on the galaxy. But to Talia, it would be a new beginning.

Storm joined her, with two gin and tonics in hand, and slowly slid into the booth. They had come here together a few times one on one. Sometimes they said a lot, like in the early days of the war when they took time to learn more about each other in ways they couldn’t just by being in proximity commanding together. Other times, they sat in silence, too weighed down by exhaustion or grief to thread words together. Storm had even confided some of his personal life to Talia, some nice stories about a handsome Pantoran man he would see sometimes on shore leave. Talia had never been able to divulge the same level of information – until today.

“Everything alright, General?” Storm asked as he watched Talia staring thoughtfully across the table, her mind distracted as she tried to ignore the apprehensive twist of her gut.

“Everything’s fine,” Talia said in a half truth. “And how many times do I have to tell you, when I’m here you can call me Talia.”

“Just as many times as I’ll have to remind you: as long as you’re my general, that’s what I’ll call you,” he said as simply as always.

Talia’s gut twisted further, “That’s actually why I wanted to come here today.”

Storm nodded but didn’t probe. Storm wasn’t the type to pry or push people beyond what they were ready to talk about. But he could always tell when someone needed to talk or would be there if they asked. Talia took a sip of her drink and took a deep breath before addressing what she invited him here to say.

“I’m going to be leaving the Jedi Order,” Talia blurted out, a bit more bluntly than she would have liked, but it felt easier to expel the news rather than to linger on it. “This campaign was my last with the 412th, unless something goes wrong with Grievous on Utapau and we still have a war to fight, but I don’t see that happening; all the signs are saying this is about to end.”

Storm’s face was unreadable, but he nodded. “Does the Council know? Does Master Plo know?”

Talia’s gut twisted again at the mention of Plo’s name, in all her thoughts of how this would go, she still had a hard time picturing how her master’s master would react to her defecting from The Order. “I wanted you to know first, I felt like I owed you that after all we’ve been through together.”

Storm nodded once again, but this time, his demeanor shifted. He seemed less tense, like the meaning behind Talia’s words struck a chord with him in a sentimental way. There was also a flicker of mourning in him, or maybe it was just the echoes of Talia’s own feelings for him – how she would miss working with him. Storm settled back in the booth, his eyes meeting Talia’s again as the curve of a rare, teasing smile toyed on his lips.

“Does this have anything to do with a certain blond captain of the 501st?”

Talia’s jaw dropped as her cheeks burned – there was no way… ”How long have you known?”

“Had my suspicions for a while; I knew you had a crush on him,” Storm teased as Talia sat mortified. “And it was obvious he had a soft spot for you. Then I saw him sneak into your tent on Turia, and that confirmed it.”

Talia shook her head in disbelief, “But you never said anything-“

“What would I say? It’s not my business what you do in your personal life,” Storm said simply. “I figured if you wanted to tell me, you would. Which is what you’re doing now. So I assume I’m right then, you’re leaving the Order for him?”

“Yes, well, partially,” Talia admitted. “The truth is, the path of the Jedi isn’t one I see myself walking anymore. At least, not in the confines of the Order. I want more, I need more from my life. And Rex gives me that.”

 “What will you do? Without the Order?” Storm asked.

“I don’t know,” Talia answered, and for once those three words weren’t laced with fear or anxiety. They felt oddly freeing. “There’s so much out there. I could go to school, I could volunteer with shelters like the one we found on Turia. I could visit planets without having to fight a war on them. Hells, I could get a job here at 79’s if I felt like it. I could also just do nothing for a while. I’m not sure what I’ll wind up doing, but I feel like that’s a good thing.”

That seemed to be all Storm needed to hear, because he softly smiled at her in that reassuring way. “Then I’m happy for you, even if I’ll miss working with you, General.”

“I just said I’m leaving – you can say my name!” Talia laughed. Storm only shook his head.

“Technically you haven’t told the Council, so you haven’t relieved yourself of duty. Therefore, you’re still my General.” Storm took a sip of his drink, his eyes flashing as he teased.

“You have to be so literal?” Talia rolled her eyes but still giggled.

“Rex knows if he ever hurts you, he’s a dead man, right?” Storm said seriously, though a crack of a smirk lingered on his lips as he continued, “Though I guess I should give you a similar threat since he is my brother.”

“I can bet a few members of the 501st will beat you to it, maybe even Commander Cody,” Talia shrugged, earning a chuckle from Storm.

The doors to 79’s slid open, and a group of shock troopers marched in, heavily armed. Talia frowned; she didn’t recognize the patterns on their armor as being any of the Corrie Guard members she knew. She glanced a curious glance at Storm, and saw her look of inquisitiveness mirrored in his face. 

She began to ask him what he thought was going on, when a sharp pain pierced her head.

It was an ache that seemed to shake her entire body, drenching her in a cold sweat. Images flashed in her mind of barrages of blaster fire, flashes of clone armor, piercing blue lightning, a Jedi fighter falling from the sky, and a menacing laughter mixed with cries of pain. She couldn’t focus on any of it, feeling too much and nothing all at once. She was vaguely aware of Storm attempting to check on her, his voice muffled by the others that echoed in her head crying out. A comm was going off, its shrill beep adding to the pain in her head. Every hair on her body stood on end, she was overwhelmed by the cold that had seeped into her, chilling her straight to the bone. She couldn’t make out anything, her visions were too blurred, but through all the chaos she could tell something was horribly wrong.She had to push through it, numb the visions and try and warn Storm that something had happened, even though she couldn’t make sense of it. Catching her breath, she looked up to Storm to explain what she had felt.

All she saw was his blaster pointed at her.

It was a beautiful night on Naboo, with the stars shining brightly over the navy sky. The full moon cast a glow over the gorge their spaceship was hidden in, its light reflecting over the river as it flowed through. Rex could see the outline of the palace in the distance, illuminated by lights in its windows and balconies, a symbol of the culture and beauty of the planet. It didn’t seem right that a place of such beauty was the setting for such mourning.

Everything seemed to be in a haze still. Rex couldn’t easily place how much time had passed in Galactic Standard time since the Order. Nothing felt real as he tried to process all that had happened, all that had changed. He never would have thought it possible that the Republic would fall, yet it happened in a matter of minutes with work completed by his own men. He still had blood and dirt caked on his armor from burying his brothers on the moon. He still winced when he moved from the shots that had hit him in his escape, his head still ached in the spot his chip had been removed. The chip that had been a part of him since he was created, the one Fives had discovered, exposed and tried to warn them about but instead was shot over. He had tried to look into it more after Fives died, but he could accomplish little without arousing suspicion. He knew Kix had his own questions too, then Kix disappeared. Rex should have questioned that more too, but he was too numb, too in denial over losing another brother. The idea of it all being connected was too much. Now he cursed himself for his own idiocy, seeing what should have been obvious. If Rex had pushed harder, if he had fought alongside Fives or continued the search after his death, would that have been enough to prevent this madness?

After their escape, finding out news while evading any attention had proved difficult. They knew the fighter they had would be flagged at any Imperial  controlled port, but they needed fuel and to confirm how widespread the Order was. Ahsoka had held on to some small semblance of hope that it wasn’t as bad as she feared, but Rex knew better than to hope. He knew what it was like, to lose control of his mind and identity at a simple phrase. He saw how it instantly changed the brothers he was with and he knew there was no chance any clone could fight it.  Once they had finally landed on some asteroid fueling station, the news was so much worse than they had feared.

Rex had never seen Ahsoka so broken as she was when they saw the news about Senator Amidala’s death. Ahsoka had been muted when they were burying the dead from the Venator, devoid of emotion in a stoicness that fit what Rex knew of the Jedi and how they dealt with grief. But when the report about Padmé played, it seemed to break the thread that had been holding Ahsoka together. She burst into tears, a wracking sob  shaking her entire body, and Rex knew it was more than just from her closeness with the Senator, for he knew that if Padmé didn’t survive, that meant Anakin was gone too.

The final blow was the news broadcast they caught of the Jedi Temple, with smoke billowing from its great towers as the reports broke about the Jedi’s treason. Ahsoka had to watch her old home burn, and Rex watched in muted terror, keeping himself together so it wouldn’t be worse for the kid, but the only thing on his mind was Talia and praying to things he didn’t believe in that she had somehow made it out. 

When Ahsoka asked if they could go to Naboo so she could see Padme’s funeral procession, he couldn’t find it in his heart to tell her no, even if every bit of reason in him was screaming that it could only be a bad choice. He cursed himself even more for letting her go alone, but as a clone he couldn’t blend in. So instead, he kept watch, left alone with his own thoughts as he tried to avoid glancing back up at the palace too often, because it reminded him of a night a lifetime ago, and the woman he met there.

Half the reason Rex was in such a haze was because his thoughts were filled with Talia. When he had been under control of the chip, he had not been Rex anymore - he was CT-7567. But there had been a small portion of his sense that tried to force its way through, a dull nagging in his head. He couldn’t make it out, it was like a rustle in the wind on the back of his mind.  Through the haze of trying to accomplish his mission, to follow the order to execute the Jedi, images of Talia kept entering his mind. The second he woke up after Ahsoka had removed his chip, and he realized the implications of what had happened, those images were brought to the forefront as he feared for Talia. But he couldn’t dwell on it then, he had to focus on surviving. But she was in the back of his mind the whole time, that fear plaguing him whether she was fighting in the same way he was that very moment. Or had it been quick, had she not even noticed before anything happened?

No, he couldn’t think like that. Rex shoved those thoughts deep inside him, because if he dwelt on them too long then the air was too thick and he wouldn’t think of anything else. He would think of the images of the Temple burning, of the Emperor’s speech about how all Jedi would be hunted down, and he would think about how all the messages Rex had tried to send her had gone unanswered.

Ahsoka’s figure appeared out of the darkness, slowly walking back towards Rex and the ship. She didn’t say anything, and he wouldn’t probe her and  ask about it. They had agreed it would be safer for the both of them if they separated soon, rather than risk attention by traveling together. Rex didn’t like thinking about the kid on her own in the Galaxy, but he already had plans in the works that he knew she didn’t want to be a part of and he didn’t blame her. She had fought enough. He had agreed to take her to Naboo, just to make sure she was OK on an Imperial controlled planet. He would drop her off after, but before he did, they had one more stop.

Waves crashing filled Rex’s ears, the thick smell of salt water lingering in his nose. It was hotter, more humid than when they had been here, something that would have been unbearable when they were stranded. In all honesty, at first it was hard to tell if this was the same island; Rex had charted the planet after they had been rescued, but its surface was littered with many similar atolls and sandbars that disappeared as they were covered by the tide. But as the fighter approached, Rex could see the shuttle still crashed on the shore, only in a further state of disrepair than what they had left.

Its durasteel floor creaked under Rex’s footsteps, the hull was weakened by rust and damaged from their original crash, plus the repeated bashing of waves. Barnacles and other traces of ocean life had left their mark in the shuttle, with a coat of sand and grime lingering over what was once a well-engineered shuttle in the Separatist army. Rex approached the cockpit, stopping as he examined the scorch marks still visible from when he had to cut the door open. The cockpit was in equal ruin to the rest of the shuttle, its controls long lifeless and stripped for the communicator they had made to call for help. He glanced at the wall where he and Talia had first kissed, where he had first lost control and plummeted headfirst into their reckless, beautiful, tragic love affair.

Rex exited the shuttle, trudging through the ankle-deep water back to shore. Ahsoka stood in the distance, giving Rex his moment. For what, he didn’t even know. He had avoided her gaze when they first arrived, and just like he didn’t probe her after the funeral, she asked no questions now. Rex supposed she had a feeling there was more to this visit than pure sentimentality, and he guessed a part of her had always known that his and Talia’s relationship went beyond a soldier and a general. 

The beach held no signs of the camp they had set up, it had been washed away by weather and the sea, no memory of what had been. As Rex stood alone, he wondered if he was the only person left in the galaxy who this insignificant spot held any memory for.

As his vision fogged, he wondered why he had bothered to come here, as if he was expecting Talia to be waiting along the shoreline, ready to meet him like they had promised the last time they were together. But that was a promise for a different outcome, a different galaxy. He had hoped being here he could somehow feel her presence, and know she was out there, but he felt more blind than he ever had in his life. And the words ran through his thoughts, words he didn’t want to think but were becoming more and more real by the minute.

Was she gone? Was Talia dead?

He didn’t know whether to scream or cry. He kicked the sand at his feet, a fruitless attempt to get out the rage and frustration festering in him. He fell to his knees, eyes locked on the horizon as he watched the sea, swallowing thickly as he failed to hold in the tears that cascaded down his cheeks. He had done well, holding it all in through everything, but coming to the one place he associated so heavily with Talia, where the memory of her took over his mind, broke him. Half of him wanted to take on Palpatine himself, to seek revenge for Talia, his brothers and all the Jedi. But then another part of him wanted it all to be over, for his fighting to be done. He had done enough of it, and what good had come of it?

Rex wiped his face, and breathed in and out, placing his palm on the ground and clenching his fist around the sand. He had come all this way, for what? To be with the ghosts of his past, of Fives, Jesse and Talia, all whose deaths could have been prevented had he been a stronger man?

He reached into his belt, dug in the pocket of his pouch and pulled out the thin silver chain with the coin-like pendant, his thumb gliding over the raised bumps and lines etched into it. In his hand was the last thing left of her, the only tangible proof that she had been real. Rex considered burying it in the sand, the only memorial that she would get. But he couldn’t find the strength to let it go.

 Should he wait? Spend the rest of his days on this beach, motionless as the galaxy spun on, just for the chance that she might arrive one day? Rex almost chuckled as he imagined how frustrated Talia would be at him if he did that, that she would roll her eyes and make a comment about his stubbornness. Then she would flash him that teasing smile, with that steely glint in her eye and say, “You can’t give up on me that easily, can you?”

The sound of the waves was rushing over him, a faint line of pink tinting the sky as the sun began to set. They had been so close to having it all, so close to finally starting a new life without the war and a hope for what they could really be without all the obstacles around them. Instead it was the end of everything. But as much as his muscles ached and urged him to rest and to grieve, that wasn’t in his nature. As Talia always liked to remind him, he was too stubborn for that. 

Rex collected himself and pushed up from the ground, clasping the chain around his neck; now it wouldn’t matter if anyone saw him wearing it. Sitting in his grief wouldn’t bring back the brothers he had lost, but he could do something for those still out there. And Talia…the harshness of reality had already settled in his mind, but he had to still fight for her, had to believe she was out there. She had survived more hells than anyone should, but he knew she had more fight in her. If anyone could have made it out, it was her. That’s what Rex told himself as he approached the fighter.  Rex still had some fight in him, and he would fight till the last breath to take back what the Empire had stolen from him.

--

Author's note - so how much do you hate me lol.

I know what you're probably thinking - 'wtf iris where's the rest of it' 'how dare you'' 'WHAT ABOUT THE MAUL SUBPLOT??" and to which I say - all will be answered in time. But I really wanted to thank you - because anyone reading this note is someone I basically owe my life to. When I was a kid, I used to write little flipbook pages and had a mini dream of being an author one day. That dream got kicked out of me quickly just through my own insecurities because I would try and write in middle school and hated every word. Then during covid, I was binge watching the clone wars and rebels and reading fic and thought "hey, what the hell why don't I give this a shot" and the ideas of Talia and Rex were the first I had, even before I was publishing any other fics. I posted other ones as a test, just to see if anyone would even bother to read and I was always so lucky from the beginning to have such fantastic support. Some of you have been here from the beginning, some have joined along the way, and you've all been so patient and understanding as I've dealt with blocks. It's cliche but I could not have finished it without having y'all around. I've cried reading some of your comments, and have been so touched when some of you have messaged talking about how much you've connected with Talia. She's so personal to me, I really have a part of my soul in her and I was terrfiied that people would hate her but the responses to her have been so positive and I can't express how much that means to me. I also got so much more love for Storm than I was expecting (but I guess I shouldn't be surprised because who doesn't love a good clone captain) but I also am so sorry to y'all. I won't leave y'all hanging long, in fact things have been in the works for awhile (in fact I was more hyperfixated on those things and that's why finishing this felt so long).

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[asimplearchivist]

𝑪𝑯. 𝑽𝑰 — 𝑵𝑶𝑻𝑯𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑺𝑾𝑬𝑬𝑻𝑬𝑹.

𝐂𝐇. 𝐕𝐈 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐈 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐄𝐑.

[𝓪𝓼𝓲𝓶𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓼𝓽'𝓼 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽] [ 𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ] AO3 | SPOTIFY | PINTEREST summary 🕷️ ⤏ you reflect on your history with miguel—both your husband and your new…colleague. pairing 🕷️ miguel o’hara/spider!reader word count 🕷️ 5.8k a/n 🕷️ [gif credit] ⤏ the chapter I had planned previously just didn’t fit right yet, plus my poll ruled that so I decided to go a different direction since my muse was being a capricious bitch like usual. we’ll hit the levity another day boys.⤏ I sprinkled in the little bit of comic lore that I’ve absorbed through fanfics and the wiki while tweaking it all to fit the timeline of my fanon for this fic, but I tried not to go into too much detail bc ATSV!Miguel’s history is still so vague. please correct me if there are any glaring mistakes.⤏ please mind the tags in the masterpost linked below. here be stupid (albeit lore accurate) decisions. 🕷️ MASTERPOST 🕷️ 🕷️ PREVIOUS CHAPTER ⤎ 🕷️ ⤏ NEXT CHAPTER 🕷️

Considering how odd your life had proven to be until present, you shouldn’t really have been surprised by how quickly you were able to adapt to your new circumstances.

Receiving high enough marks in your earliest years that you were hand-selected to be sent to Alchemax’s glorified drone factory of a school, steadily ascending through the ranks of your peers as your intellect was honed and sharpened with heavy instruction and endless study, and working your ass off through the highest levels of education in hopes of becoming successful enough to live comfortably all culminating in you meeting the love of your life in the process was only the start.

Your Miguel had been an undesirable individual, one to whom you hadn’t initially been attracted due to the history that preceded him (mostly because you had roomed with Xina for a time). He’d been a cocksure player with mommy and daddy issues, as well as an arrogant attitude and smart mouth in equal measure—playing himself off as the typical bad boy to hide all the scarred wounds he nursed underneath his standoffish exterior.

You hadn’t been able to stand him at first. The first time you’d met him, when he’d stopped by the dorm to pick Xina up for a date very early on in their relationship, you’d waited up apprehensively until she got home that night. You’d told her that he was bad news, that you only saw trouble branded across that massive forehead of his, and that she should drop him like a hot potato.

“But I like hot potatoes,” she’d said, eyes twinkling as she’d undressed for bed. “I’ve known him for a long time—since we were kids. He’s really a sweetheart once you get to know him. He’s standoffish to everyone he meets at first, but once he warms up to you, he’s really nice. Just wait, you’ll see. Let him get used to you.”

The first time he’d hung out at the dorm, you’d waited until Xina had slipped into the restroom before leveling him with a glare full of hellfire.

“You break her heart and I’ll break that stupidly fucking perfect nose of yours,” you’d growled, jabbing a finger in his slackened face. “Don’t think you’re fooling me, O’Hara. I know your type, I’ve read your mail—you think you can get away with everything you set your mind to just because you feel like you’re entitled. But I’m warning you right now—don’t test me. She deserves someone who will treat her right. I will not hesitate to wreck your shit, tú hijo de puta*.”

He’d only stared at you, jaw slack as he’d continued to lounge on the couch—taking up nearly half its width with his wide wingspan and those ridiculously long legs he’d sprattled out as though he owned the place. He hadn’t had the chance to respond before Xina had trotted back into the main room. You’d set down the drink on the coffee table that you’d used a guise to get closer and had moved back over to the kitchenette to resume cooking supper as though not a word had been uttered. He hadn’t said another thing to you the rest of the night save a mumbled, “Good night,” when he’d left, averting his eyes from yours the entire time.

Xina had given you a suspicious look once she’d shut and locked the door behind him, but hadn’t brought anything about it up until days later.

“Mig said he really liked your tacos,” she’d remarked casually while the pair of you’d worked on your assignments, sprawled on the floor in the warm afternoon sunshine spilling through the window. “He hasn’t had his mother’s cooking in a while, but he said it reminded him of home. He wanted me to thank you.”

You’d hummed noncommittally, scribbling away at your notes. “Is that all?”

“And he said you threatened him within an inch of his life.”

You’d tipped your head, casting her a glance through your lashes. You’d expected her to get irritated about it, but instead she’d looked…amused. “And…?”

“He also said,” she’d continued, lowering her tablet and folding her arms to prop herself up, “that he’s glad I’ve got someone loyal like you to look after me.”

“Someone has to,” you’d responded evenly, returning your attention to your handwriting. “You’d be up a creek with no paddle without me.”

“He wanted to know if you’d be okay with him coming over again.”

You’d looked back up to her, raising an incredulous brow. “I’m not your keeper, Xi. You can do whatever the hell you want with him.”

She’d mirrored your expression. “I think he’d just like some assurance that you won’t gnaw on his ankles the next time he hits the door.”

Rolling your eyes, you’d shaken your head. “I’m fine. I got my bluff in. I’ll even make him churros if it’ll get him to crack just one smile.”

“Careful, he’ll probably hold you to that. That man has a sweet tooth worse than anyone I’ve ever met.”

He’d orbited you like a small child would a large dog (despite the size comparison being the exact opposite) for a long time after that, only daring to venture closer when you had brandished food at him like peace offerings. How you had managed to actually intimidate him was beyond you (and a part of you had always wondered if he had only acted like it for your benefit), but you had never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth—so to have had all six foot five of Miguel O’Hara give you as wide of a berth as one would a bear when you so much as stepped into the room was a power trip you’d tried not to let get to your head.

He wasn’t as bad as you’d first anticipated. He did warm up to you over time, and you’d discovered that his curt demeanor stemmed primarily from his awkwardness. He didn’t talk much because he didn’t know how to talk. He had a difficult time parsing his true meanings and feelings, often stumbling over words or being unintentionally blunt or misleading in the process—if he got frustrated enough, he’d even stutter a bit. He was still an asshole sometimes, certainly—especially around other people he didn’t know or just plainly didn't like, as well as when he’d been in a foul mood after a bad day—but he was, admittedly, pleasant enough company to keep around.

He’d inhale any food you’d set down in front of him, anyway, and cooking had always been your biggest love language, so that had made you feel a bit better about him, at least. A complete dickbag would have complained about your heavy-handedness for powdered thyme and salt, but Miguel had only ever asked for seconds (and sometimes thirds) and had expressed his gratitude by bullying his way in front of the sink to help clean up the dishes.

“He’s like that,” Xina had laughed when you’d griped at her about it. “Can’t thank anyone to save his life, but he’ll be damned if he lets you do anything yourself. Very much an ‘acts of service’ type of guy.”

He had a really dumb sense of humor, unexpectedly simple for one as intelligent as he was—and you knew he’d had to have been keen of mind in order to catch Xina’s eye in the first place, as she didn’t tolerate ignorance in the slightest—but the plainness of his puns and quips and jokes always caught you by surprise. You hadn’t ever been able to bestow a name upon the glitter of mirth in his eyes when he’d managed to make you laugh until Xina had pointed it out.

“He likes you, you know,” she’d said casually over coffee somewhere near the university. “He asks about you all the time, wants to know more about you. I think it would help if you’d give him a little more than the time of day.”

You’d given her a wry smirk. “You want me to be chatty with your boyfriend?”

“Just enough to convince him that you’re not some weird cryptid that lives in my pantry,” she’d sighed, rolling her eyes. “I don’t know how many times he’s asked me how we never met you growing up in school.”

“I’m younger than both of you by a couple of years,” you’d reminded her longsufferingly. “I got bumped up to graduate early. I’m lucky I qualified.”

“No luck about it. You’re a smart cookie, cupcake.” She’d sipped her coffee, eyes cutting out to the street on the other side of the glass, then had pursed her lips. “You know, he…didn’t have a great childhood. He’s been through a lot.” She hadn’t met your puzzled expression. “Just…cut him some slack, will you? He’s a good guy.”

“I don’t have anything against him,” you’d assured her. “He’s just not really the type of person I usually gravitate towards.”

“Oh, yeah, and you’re all about those mousy little nerds who can’t pick up a sack of flour,” she’d laughed, rolling her eyes. “I mean it. He likes you. I can’t say that for a whole lot of people, you know. It takes a lot for him to open up as it is, and he’s really making an effort to try. I don’t know what it is about you, but I’ve never seen him so invested in getting to know someone new—he’s got his little posse and that’s about the extent of his centrism.”

You’d frowned. “You’re not worried about that?”

“Nah.” She’d shaken her head. “Mig’s a lot of things, but duplicitous isn’t one of them. I think you just made a really strong impression on him. Maybe all that bad bitch energy you’ve got oozing off of you is actually toning him down some.”

Eventually, he’d offered to help you cook, too. He’d helped Xina pick up around the dorm when you were out. He’d even helped you study for the biochemistry exam you’d convinced yourself that you’d fail, and you’d ended up making an A. He’d interwoven himself inextricably into your lives and daily routine, resulting in those orbiting your immediate social circle referring to you as the ‘dumbass trio’. Wherever Miguel and Xina went, you often weren’t far behind—not of your own volition, of course, as they often roped you into whatever they were doing unless it was strictly a couple’s thing. Xina had sworn up and down that they had mutually agreed to include you on most things so you wouldn’t feel left out, which you’d appreciated a bit more than you’d ever have readily admitted.

You did make him churros for Christmas, and he had, indeed, smiled—so sincere and sweet in the tight, enveloping hug that he’d given you in lieu of thanks with Xina’s laughter tittering over the pounding of your heart in your ears. You’d patted him awkwardly on the back as he’d released you, turning to the tray to pluck up one of the sweets while you’d been too busy resisting the urge to watch his thick fingers disappear past those impossibly plush lips for his tongue to collect the sugar crystals lingering there—you’d managed it (barely), but you’d spent a little too long that night huffing the collar of your sweater while stripping in the bathroom to shower because his cologne had seeped into the chunky knit and you had never before smelled anything so divine.

Eventually, you met Gabriel, too, who had flirted so shamelessly with you that first time Miguel’d had his face buried in his hands throughout the entire ordeal, muttering curses to himself in Spanish that you hadn’t been able to quite catch (but hadn’t necessarily had to—the mortification in his eyes had been clear).

You and Miguel had spent time together, too. Sometimes he’d come to the dorm when Xina was busy elsewhere just to catch a break. He’d told you that he enjoyed the quiet, and that you were relaxing to be around. Having gradually gathered bits and pieces of his past through the various off-handed remarks that Xina had made about his parents, you’d taken that as an utmost compliment. He was, truly, a sweetheart beneath all those bristles he brandished to most. He trusted next to no one, but was loyal to a fault to those select few that he did.

Your best friend’s boyfriend had weaseled his way into your heart, you’d had to admit, and had wormed into your good graces. Over time, you’d learned his eccentricities and mannerisms and colloquialisms. You’d gotten used to him. You’d grown comfortable around him. You’d go so far as to say that you’d liked him, too.

Then he’d cheated with his brother’s girl, a stunt just like you’d initially feared.

You kept your promise. When he’d stopped by the dorm (while Xina was out—the point of which had been clearly made to assure lack of contact on both of their parts) to exchange the meager few belongings of hers that had ended up at his place with his own, you’d broken his nose with a solid jab that he hadn’t even had a chance to block due to his surprise. Luckily, he had set the box down first, and your rage had delayed just long enough to make sure nothing of Xina’s was broken in the process.

He’d bled all over the front of his shirt. You’d shoved a wad of toilet tissue into his sticky, crimson-stained hands, and with stinging eyes and a tight throat you’d slammed the door shut in his teary, crestfallen face.

You didn’t see him for a long time after that. Xina had buckled down and nearly worked herself to death to finish her classes and graduated early. You’d followed the year after her, transitioning into Alchemax’s robotics department, specializing in nanotech, but flexible enough that you ended up working all over the department when the various teams needed an extra set of hands. You’d secured a lease on a nice apartment thanks to your wages, had caught your future by the tail, and had settled in to enjoy your newfound independence and freedom.

Miguel had shown up on your doorstep a couple of years later holding a box brimming with tamales and a bottle of your favorite wine a couple of years later, eyes red-rimmed and bloodshot, overall looking like the definition—the epitome—of shattered.

You’d almost turned him away—had almost laughed about how karma was a bitch—but the half-circle bruises under his eyes, the welling split in his lip, and the tears gathering on his lash line as he’d croaked out a hoarse and utterly pitiful, “I really fucked up, pastelita**,” had stayed your instinctual cruelty.

So, with an exasperated sigh, you’d stepped away from the doorpost to gesture him inside. Within minutes, he’d set himself down on the very edge of the end of the couch, shoulders hunched in and downwards, knees clamped together to take up as little space as possible while you’d brought a couple of chipped coffee mugs from your cabinet into which to pour the borderline cloyingly sweet strawberry wine. He hadn’t touched any of the tamales until you’d demolished three, but you’d been able to tell that he was only eating to have something on his stomach. He’d looked ill, and if it weren’t for his confession you’d have been pressing the back of your palm to that massive forehead of his.

Dana had flipped the script on him—had grown bored of the lack of thrill for the affair once Gabriel had caught wind and cut all ties to leave her with his older brother in favor of pursuing an older, richer man further up the hierarchy at Alchemax—and Miguel had no one else to whom he could turn to wallow in his sorrows.

You hadn’t given him an inch. You’d told him just what he’d done to Xina, how you hadn’t had a full conversation with her beyond a handful of texts in the last six months because she’d buried herself so deeply in her work so she wouldn’t have to think about how she felt. You’d told him how big of a dick he’d been to ruin the trust not only for his childhood best friend and girlfriend, but also his brother. You’d told him that you were still pissed enough now, a couple of years later, that he was lucky he wasn’t getting a full sixteen ounces of fermented fruit juice in the eyes. You’d told him that he’d hurt you, too, because you’d ended up losing both of the only friends you’d ever managed to make that had tolerated you enough to keep you around in the process.

He’d taken it all with a lowered gaze but in good faith. He’d admitted that he’d done wrong, and that he’d never be able to truly forgive himself for it. He’d said that he deserved every bit of misfortunate that had riddled his life ever since he’d made that irreparable mistake. He’d also told you that he’d reached out to Xina in attempts to make amends, and had at least convinced her to talk for a few minutes to let her know how sorry he was, that he didn’t expect her to forgive him, and that he would like to make it up to her by remaining friends on somewhat good terms if she wanted.

That had surprised you. Miguel didn’t admit he was wrong. Ever. That he’d go so far as to give someone room to think that indefinitely had proven to you then and there and he had actually realized how badly he’d made a mess of things and had genuinely wanted to change his trajectory.

So you’d shared your homemade salsa with him, had watched at least seven more tamales disappear down his ravenous gullet, and had told him that you could make them better with an arm tied behind your back and blindfolded. You’d managed to leverage a wet, quiet chuckle out of him when you’d told him how ugly he was when he cried—which was really a complete, bald-faced lie. You’d never seen a man look more gorgeous than Miguel O’Hara sobbing into a mug comically small clutched in his mitt of a hand stating proudly in gold calligraphy on a turquoise glaze that, ‘I’m too cute to compute,’ about how uncertain he was that he’d ever be able to fix everything good in his life that he’d broken with his stupidity and recklessness.

You’d bundled him up in your favorite, heaviest blanket after three mugs of wine and had tipped him over to stretch across the woefully ill-fitting length of your couch well past midnight. You’d shoved a pillow under his head, had pulled off his shoes (with his feet dangling off the opposite arm, it only made him look twice as tall), and had slept in the armchair next to him so he wouldn’t wake up alone.

Perhaps you’d been too easy on him. Perhaps you shouldn’t have entertained him after everything he’d done, much less forgive him after one sob story. But you’d missed him, too—like crazy, like hell. You’d missed his sullen pouts at being teased about his forehead and his stupid jokes about mitochondria and the way his smile was just a bit too wide and lopsided, like he didn’t know how to measure it once someone did manage to crack his solemn facade.

You’d called Xina the next morning to explain your end of the story (whatever details Miguel had elected to share with you, even while intoxicated, you held in strict confidence—just like hers were secrets you’d carry to your grave). She’d sighed and said she knew everything, and that she didn’t want to have drama. It would take a long time for them to salvage their relationship and reconcile, but she’d admitted that she’d missed him, too, and just wanted him back as one of her best friends.

Miguel had spent significantly more time with you after that. He came over with food after work once he’d made sure you were home, fussing you right out of the kitchen and letting you pick whatever the pair of you would watch—even if he sighed when you would, inevitably, pick another romcom from a century prior.

It had been a slow process, patching those wounds. Miguel had changed a lot in the time you’d lost, had matured more than you’d ever imagined he would. He cleared the air with Gabriel, and that Christmas all four of you spent the holidays comfortably together eating too many sweets and exchanging gifts. You baked him pan dulce and he brought you cinnamon rolls that he’d made all by himself—although they had been a bit gooey, not quite baked long enough, you’d eaten half the pan yourself.

A year passed. Things got easier. You had no longer felt anxious, hurt, or resentful upon seeing him walk through the door—excitement, affection, and fondness took their places instead. He had made amends as best as he was able, working endlessly to patch up the wounds he’d so carelessly inflicted while also fixing his own issues to prevent it from happening again.

…He’d confessed his feelings for you entirely by accident. It had just slipped one night, after a few too many drinks and continuous bumping into each other while washing and drying and storing the dishes, that he’d liked you for a long time—since he’d met you, really—and he wouldn’t have added the fact that him seeking your company had long since slipped from avoiding loneliness into wanting to stay close to you if you hadn’t nearly pried the words from his clenched jaw with increasingly creative and outlandish threats of nonviolence.

He had intended to never say a word, you’d learned. After everything he’d done and gone through, he’d convinced himself that he was undeserving of love and utterly incapable of nurturing it into anything remotely palpable, healthy, and long-term. He was terrified of losing for good what little bit of love that he’d managed to salvage from the only people he’d had in his life that genuinely cared for him unconditionally, having already ruined his first serious relationship with a night of foolhardy negligence. Despite his ardent adoration of you and how you had changed his flaws into virtues, he had resigned himself to remaining your friend for the rest of his list so he would never risk fucking up his chances at happiness again—he would have taken that to the grave, had his restraint not wavered with your nonchalant, half-teasing confession of him being the most important—and favorite—person in your life.

(Except it hadn’t been a joke. You’d realized, in the span of a breath after you’d uttered those baring words, that it was entirely true—even your close friendship with Xina paled in comparison for the bond that you and Miguel had painstakingly built throughout the trials and crises you’d faced together. Despite his grievous errors, he’d remained steadfast in the face of resolving them—a trait so rarely seen that you’d stood by his side in support without question.)

In a blind panic at your prolonged, shocked silence, he’d thus fallen into a continuous spiel that contained more words than he’d ever spoken throughout your entire acquaintance combined. He vomited his childhood traumas and adolescent hardships and formative follies up as if he were lancing an infected wound, and the underlying explanations behind his personality, behavior, and insecurities became all too apparent in that moment. It didn’t excuse any of his actions, by any means—he’d acknowledged that much vehemently without you even having to open your mouth—and he’d known that he would never truly be able to reconcile all the shit he’d brought upon himself, which had resulted, in turn, in him inflicting misery and heartache upon others entirely undeserving of it. He’d apologized profusely for every slight he’d made at you, had begged that you disregard him ever having said those three damning words in order for everything to stay as it was, to go back to normal, so he wouldn’t lose you, too, for a second time.

…He had never been anyone’s favorite in his entire life. That idea had broken your heart.

But it had been a lot to swallow all at once, too. You’d shoved an ice cube into his mouth to calm his hammering heart and to stifle his anxious rambling, as well as to give yourself a couple of minutes to regather your bearings. You hadn’t been able to form a coherent thought, much to your chagrin—too caught up in the all-to-recent memory of him gazing down at you with such softness and reverence that one would have thought that you had strung up the constellations before murmuring with as much conviction as one would a benediction, “I love you,” emblazoned onto the backs of your eyelids and ringing in your ears.

Once the ice cube had melted, he’d tried to start talking again. You’d hushed him by placing your fingertips over his chapped, chewed lips and saying softly, “I love you, too, tonto.* I have for a while, I just…didn’t know how I felt about it, and wasn’t sure about bringing it up.” You’d cupped his jaw, then, and had stroked the pad of your thumb along the crease of his gaping mouth.

The wake of his relief had crashed over him so hard that he’d cried. You’d armed him up as best as you were able, given your size difference, and had held him until he’d soaked your shoulder, rubbing his back in soothing circles all the while. You’d never felt more at ease in someone’s embrace as you had with him, despite the emotional turmoil involved and the uncertainties the pair of you now faced.

But, as before, you’d worked through the complications together. Xina and Gabe had both supported you, after a bit of surprise (and exchanging money not-so-subtly under the table the next time you all had gotten together for dinner—Gabriel complaining about being out fifty dollars falling short of Xina’s smug, knowing look had not gone unnoticed). Dating felt no different from the comfortable, borderline domestic rhythm you’d already—unwittingly—fallen into that past year since his plea for mercy, except that he now had no holds barred around you.

While you’d suspected that he’d never be big on PDA or sweet nothings, Miguel had shown his ardency for you in other ways. All the issues with your apartment magically resolved themselves whenever you’d complain about them. Your closets, cabinets, and pantry had stayed stocked even when you ran out of time to make grocery runs after grueling nights at the lab. He’d insisted on paying for everything, had hardly ever let you lift a finger, and had spoiled you absolutely rotten. He’d done his damnedest to redeem the second chance that you’d granted him, and you’d been a little amazed at how seriously he had taken the whole affair.

Xina hadn’t been miffed about it in the slightest. “He’s a different man, now—a better man,” she’d told you, “and you’re to thank for that. I never could get through to him like you can, and that’s okay. It’s wonderful, actually. I’m so proud of him and I’m so, so very happy for you. You deserve the world and I think he’s doing his best to give it to you…if you’ll let him try.”

Your strict intolerance for his vices had polished off his roughened edges with friction. Your high expectations had driven up the standards he’d long since set for himself. Your hopes had helped him to accept what he had thought were his weaker qualities, but were, in fact, what you had considered his greatest strengths. You’d mended his aching soul and he had given you everything that you could ever have asked for in return.

The wedding had been a cozy, intimate affair. The honeymoon, despite the lavish PTO and cushiony funds you’d both accrued over the course of your shared workaholic employment, hadn’t lasted nearly long enough, in your opinion. Finding a penthouse to lease together with your joint salaries afforded you a breathtaking view of Nueva York in the mornings and evenings, and after a short time it had become a home.

You were thankful to have experienced all the good times, as well as the bad. You would’ve endured those tragedies all over again to experience that devoted love once more.

You still missed your husband like hell some days, though. Much of your life now had grown around the grief that used to suffocate you, gently laying over tender roots for new experiences, but there were still times that you had to spritz his old pillow with his slowly diminishing bottle of cologne and recluse yourself inside your bedroom until the ache loosened enough for you to rise and greet the life you now had to live without him. You no longer felt the urge to visit his grave anymore, except for his birthday and your anniversary, however, knowing that he wasn’t truly there, but in your heart—and you considered that the ultimate step forward.

You wondered at the odd twist of fate, though, to be tossed by sheer chance into a league of multidimensional Spider-People like yourself, led by a copy of the man whom you’d have sacrificed your own life in exchange for his (and still would without question nor consideration). You saw much of that initially wounded, derisive man in this new Miguel—but instead of ever finding healing and bettering himself, he had seemingly gotten worse. (Or something had made him worse. You were uncertain of which was the case.)

You couldn’t entirely blame him for it. While he hadn’t revealed the details (and was under no obligations to do so whatsoever), you’d gotten enough of the gist that he’d struggled through some horrific circumstances…and had just barely made it out the other side, if your perception of his underlying misery was to be believed.

He softened up somewhat after that raw, quiet conversation in his lab, at least with you. He no longer acted as though he walked on eggshells around you—no longer rigid and on edge when you were remotely close to his proximity. He wasn’t as guarded, either, relaxing just enough to reveal his calmer, quieter nature. Being the leader of the Society was tedious, stressful, endless work, and having to wrangle so many odds and ends ranging from mischievous to volatile would render anyone’s nerves to short fuses. You figured out that he’d whittled himself down to the bone, yet refused to accept any help from the likes of his most valued associates, despite Jess and Peter B.’s prodding and insistence otherwise.

So, since you hadn’t been around long enough to even know where to start making headway in the mountain of anomalous analytics or projection reports with which he had to deal with every day, you opted to try to help him in the few areas where you confidently could.

You coaxed him out to grab meals in the cafeteria when LYLA told you he’d been cooped up in his lab alone for too long, you organized his tools and things when he did happen to be out so he’d have a clean and tidy workspace to come back to, and you continued your accidentally established tradition of bringing him a sweet upon your daily deliveries of leftover baked goods from your shop every evening. He’d started to grumble at you about the lattermost habit, remarking that he had a strict diet that he’d maximized for his metabolism and physical activity, but you’d told him that the treats wouldn’t stay on his physique as busy as he stayed.

“In fact,” you’d argued playfully, “I think it’s been doing wonders for improving your mood. The newbies aren’t running for the hills whenever you walk through the foyer anymore.”

He’d stopped bringing it up after that, didn’t quibble with you about it anymore, and you’d noticed that the corner of his mouth had started to pinch when you’d press the crinkling sack into his not-so-reluctantly awaiting palm. You hoped that it was a restricted smile and not a grimace, like you had feared initially.

(…Had he ever smiled around you? You couldn’t recall a single instance of it happening. You’d have to work on rectifying that.)

You enjoyed learning about the other Spiders, too. Nothing fascinated you more than to delve into deep discussions about the state of their respective universes—the time periods, technology, and history all relative to yours—as well as their personal differences. To all be the same type of hero, you were amazed by how vastly different each and every single one was. All were bound, however, by a common story, punctuated by tragedies that defined every purpose.

You still hadn’t been able to figure out this Miguel, though. You would never intentionally pry into his story, even though he had consented to his bio to be uploaded to the Society’s network for transparency’s sake—you felt that it was something he would tell you personally if it was that important, or if he trusted you enough to be inclined to do so. You were vastly curious about his physiological characteristics, however, so you’d spent an entire afternoon mentally compiling a comparison and contrast between your late husband and what you had gathered about his multidimensional counterpart.

Taller, bulkier, with all the added traits of spider-abilities overwhelmingly evident, but the same features otherwise. Red eyes with perfect vision that seemed extremely sensitive to light (the only explanation for why he kept his lab so damned dark all the time, and also how he could read with perfect clarity from so far away). Fangs and talons that could tear through just about anything. Same frown when concentrating on something, same sullen pout when teased. More soft-spoken, significantly shorter in patience and temper, extremely antisocial…that lattermost fact, at least, remained exactly the same. In so many ways, he was still the person you had known best, even if he wasn’t yours.

You decided soon enough that, despite the rocky start of your acquaintance, that if no one else would get through to him, you’d do your damnedest to try breaking down the walls he’d so meticulously built up around himself. It was the least you could do, by helping to mend another version of him back together again, to repay your husband—the man you’d loved most—for giving you the best years of your comparatively drab and lonely life, even if this Miguel were to fight you tooth and nail every step of the way. He deserved to be safe and sound just like everyone else ever did.

[nocasdatsgay]

From the Shadows, the Beast Will Rise CH. 6

Pairing: Azriel/Eris | Word Count: 2284 | Chapter Rating: T

Warnings: Discussion of what happened to Mor in Autumn

Previous Chapter | Masterpost | Read it Here on A03

Fic Summary: Months after that one encounter, Eris receives demand for a response to his summons to visit the Night Court. He ends up with a warning for the future and a certain shadow singer under his skin

Chapter Summary: Az tells Mor and Cassian. Eris gets his court in order

A/N: I am so sorry this took so long. Also discussion of Mor is done from Az’s POV. Her trauma is her trauma and not being negated. If Italics are missing cause I am tired. Will add links in a min.

Gen Tag List: @hieragalbatorixdottir @mybestfriendmademe

Azriel waited a week to tell Cassian. Even then, it wasn’t because he wanted to. They were in the training ring when it happened. Cassian knew something was wrong and when Az wouldn’t speak, Cass would push until he did. Azriel was thrown onto his ass and Cassian leaning above him. 

“I’m not moving until you talk, brother,” Cassian grinned, forearm pressed on Azriel’s chest so he couldn’t move. 

Azriel didn’t say anything. He stared past Cassian and into the blue skies above. His shadows refused to come to his aid. At least they were alone- Nesta and the others had long left the training ring. Cassian frowned down at him when the silence lapsed between them.

“Az. You know you can talk to me.” Somehow that didn’t reassure him. 

“You’re going to be angry,” he whispered. He still wouldn’t look him in the eyes. 

At that, Cassian moved off of him. He got to his feet and held out his hand to help Azriel up. Shadows curled up the corners of his wings where they hid from the sun. Cassian crossed his arms against his chest and Az decided to get it over with. 

“Erisismymate.” The words came out in a jumble, slurred together from his fear of speaking them aloud. When Cassian just stared, obviously confused, he sighed. “I said Eris is my mate.”

Az could see him stiffen, his body tense. When he dared to look Cassian’s shock was evident. He opened his mouth and closed it once. 

Az brushed his hair back. “I-“ Az swallowed his words, unsure of what else to say. “It snapped when he became high lord.” 

Cassian’s wings twitched as he seemed to relax his body. “So uh, does he know?” 

“Yes.”

Cassian nodded. “Do, you- fuck does Rhys know?” 

Az nodded. “I told him when I came back. I didn’t know how to tell you. I still don’t know how to tell Mor.”

“Do you even want the bond?” 

Yes, his mind screamed immediately but he clenched his jaw tight. He took a deep breath, and looked over at Cassian again. 

“I think- I think we should get Nesta and then I’ll explain.” 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Telling Nesta was somehow harder than telling Cassian. She came up from the library in a hurry with worry. Az watched her sit with her spine stiff and straight like she used to as he relayed the info. He didn’t look her in the eyes when he specifically called Eris his mate.Them the three of them sat on the kitchen benches in silence. Nesta crossed her arms, then broke the tense silence. 

“Well Cassian and I both know what it’s like to be bonded to someone you might not want.”

“Hey,” Cassian glanced at his mate with a scowl. 

“We have worked through it,” she reached over and put her hand on his arm. “But you can’t deny Rhys and Mor specifically weren’t happy about it at first. And neither were you.” 

Cassian bristled but his wings slumped behind him, knowing it was true even if he didn’t like it. Az wasn’t privy to the whole situation, just that they had taken up sessions with a priestess in the library. Neutral talking ground, as Nesta explained once. 

They could say what they needed to say with an unbiased mediator, one who could even get them to understand how and why they felt that way. Az only knew about it because the first session, Cassian was so angry he was sent out of the library  until he could calm down. 

“How do you feel about it?” Nesta pulled him from his thoughts. “This came out of no where. I mean, you can’t even be in the same room together.”

“About that.” Az rubbed the back of his neck. His shadows lazily swirled around him as if to help him stay calm. 

He didn’t go into too much detail about the past year. He did let the shadow thing slip, laughing for the first time that day remembering how Rhys reacted. Cassian choked on air and Nesta was leaning onto her hand, elbow propped on the table, grinning at him. 

“This is better than a Sellyn Drake novel.”

“Nesta!” Cassian scowled at his mate. “This isn’t the time.”

She rolled her eyes and brushed him off. “Please, this is the perfect time. Five hundred years of being enemies, ended by a mating bond. That would make a great novel.” She smirked at Az, “so when are you going to see him again.”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I haven’t spoken to him since it snapped. I’ve been trying to work up the nerve to tell you all and he said he didn’t need a mate anyways.” 

“Bullshit. Take me to Autumn, I will knock some sense into him.” 

“Nes, please.” Cassian pinched the bridge of his nose. 

Az couldn’t fight the smile forming. “I want to give him time. Transition of power is always messy.” 

“You’ll have to speak to him eventually.” Nesta’s gaze studied Azriel’s. “Do you have a plan for that?” 

Az shifted on the bench. “I need to tell Mor first.” He did not miss the way Nesta and Cassian glanced at each other. “She has to know. She deserves to know and hear it from me.” 

“Good luck with that,” Nesta muttered. 

He didn’t respond because he knew he was going to need it. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Getting Mor to meet with him was impossible. It took another week and he finally made Rhys call her in. Once she was in Rhys’s office at the River house, Rhys called for him mentally. As soon as he walked in the room, Mor went to get up and leave. 

“Mor, sit,” Rhys said pointedly. 

“What’s wrong?” She froze by the chair but didn’t sit just yet. “Did something happen?”

“I need to speak with you,” Azriel answered for Rhys. “I knew you’d run off so I had Rhys call you in.” 

Her red lined lips pouted and she glared at him. “I wouldn’t run off.” 

“You’re literally standing because you went to leave. Just sit down, I don’t have time for this.” Azriel let his temper show and he felt Rhys glare at him. “You’ve been running from me for five hundred years. I know what it looks like.” 

Her cheeks turned as red as her dress but she sat down in her chair. Rhys got up and excused himself, shooting Az a look to behave. It was only when the door shut that Az relaxed slightly. He took a seat in front of Mor and leaned onto his knees. 

“I’m going to tell you something and you might react poorly.”

“By the cauldron if you tell me you’re still in love with me-“ 

“I came to tell you the exact fucking opposite. Are you serious?” Az stopped and clenched his jaw, the muscle ticking on the right side. “I haven’t been in love with you for a long time.” 

“Why didn’t you say something?”

Az shrugged, his expression cold as he felt about the situation. He wanted to rage at her. All these centuries of this little avoidance game she would play weighed heavy on him- had for years. And the secret she kept from all of them. The one  his shadows whispered to him centuries ago. He scoffed. 

“Why didn’t you say something?”

She scoffed. “Excuse me? I literally hooked up with males to show you I didn’t like you like that.”

“That’s not using your words, Mor.” She looked even more offended. He ran a hand through his hair. “That isn’t why I want to talk to you.” 

“Then why the fuck do you want to talk to me?”

“Eris is my mate.” 

Silence. Mor looked like she stopped breathing, her shoulders slumping as she stared at him. She paled and looked down at the floor. He knew this would happen. 

Az whispered again. “He’s my mate, Mor.”  

Mor stood, heels clicking on the floor as she grabbed a small trash bin and proceeded to vomit into it. Az winced at the sound but didn’t get up, uncertain if going to her would help. The door opened and Rhys rushed in. 

“I’m fine,” she coughed and spit into the bin. She shooed Rhys away. “I’m fine.”

“You threw up in my trash, that’s not fine.” Rhys grumbled, magicking away the mess. 

Mor pushed past Rhys and stopped short of Az. He stood and waited for her response. 

“Will you reject it?” Mor asked and searched his gaze. “You’ll reject it. Right?” 

Az frowned. “You want me to reject my mate?”

“You know what he did to me.” Tears filled her eyes. 

“He knew I was coming, Mor. He knew we would find you. He told me so himself.”

Mor shook her head. “He’s the reason I was there in the first place!” She screamed, more tears falling. “He’s a monster!” 

“Keir was the reason you were in that woods and you fucking know it!” Az glared daggers at her. “You blame Eris because he was an easy target. Your parents you have to see, but Eris is in a whole other court so it’s just easier. And we let you. We let you put the full blame on Eris.” 

“How can you say that to me?” She hissed. 

“Because it’s the truth and you don’t want to face it! What happened to you was horrific, but it’s not Eris’ fault!” 

“So you’ll just forgive him?” Mor threw her hands up. “That easy? After everything he’s done to me? To us? Because he’s your fucking mate?”

He looked her right in the eyes and replied. “Yes.” 

“Don’t ever speak to me again,” Mor clenched her fists by her side and looked at Rhys. “I’m leaving. Don’t invite me over if he’s here.” 

Rhys just stared dumbfounded as she stomped out the room. Az fell back into the chair and put his face in his hands. He knew it was going to be bad with Mor. He didn’t expect it to be like this. 

“Just give her time,” Rhys whispered. 

Something told Azriel no amount of time would fix this. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It took Eris several days to get the court in order. He promised his mother he would not kill his brothers, so he imprisoned them first. 

“It’s nothing personal,” He told them. The three of them glared at him, kneeling and bound in fire cuffs. “You’ll stay in your quarters until I feel I can trust you. Since the three of you decided to be cowards.”

He mended the wards of each of their rooms so they couldn’t leave and only a few could enter. Only Asher wasn’t angry with him; his imprisonment was more for the theatrics. The other two couldn’t know he and Eris made a deal almost a century ago. Their mother wasn’t happy with the arrangements either but she held her tongue. At least to Eris, she did. 

All his hard work over the centuries payed off. Most of the court fell in line with the power change. Only two families loyal to Beron fled. He sent formal notices that they could only return if they pledged their loyalty. Eris knew they thought he’d murder them- that was their problem, not his. 

He sent notice to Lucien. Eris knew his brother may not return right away or ever. But the ability to enter without needing an emissary title was the important part. Particularly for their mother. The relief on her face when he told her about it was worth it. 

Before he knew it, another week passed. He obtained his allegiances of his brothers, buried his bastard of a father, and was formally crowned High Lord of the Autumn Court. His days were busy with drafting new trade agreements and reforming the previous laws. So busy, his mother didn’t ask- she told him to meet her for tea. No sooner had the cups been poured, did the question he’d been avoiding come up. 

“Have you spoken to your mate?” His mother gave him a pointed look, sipping her tea. 

“Have you spoken to yours?” Eris retorted. 

His mother sighed heavily, lowering the cup to the saucer in her lap. It was rude of Eris- he knew that. He didn’t know exactly how they ended things, but he could only assume she didn’t reject the bond. Not with Helion alive and well all these centuries later. 

“I sent him a letter, that night. He sent one back a day ago. I have yet to summon the courage to open it.” 

He nodded. He understood. He didn’t have the courage to acknowledge the rogue shadow following him around since that night. He could only assume the shadow was sent by Azriel to keep an eye on him. However, after learning they have a mind of their own, he wondered if that was true or if it stayed on its own. 

“If you read your letter from Helion, I will write one to Azriel.” He glanced up to see a small smile on his mother’s face. 

“I will agree to those terms.” 

“Good.” Eris took a sip of his own tea. 

A small part of him felt guilty later that night as he penned the letter. He promised he would write it. He had no intentions of sending it. He poured his heart into that paper with ink, things he’d bottled up even before the bond snapped. Then he sealed it and left it on this desk in his chambers. It was a shame he didn’t vocalize his plan. Maybe the rogue shadow would have left it where it lay instead of delivering it directly to Azriel when he shut the door. 

[bitethedevil]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Spread the self-love 💚

I have only written three longer fics, so some of them will be oneshots

Living with The Devil You Know (AO3 Link):

It's probably my favorite that I've done. It's getting rather long but we are nearing the end soon. It's at 14 chapters right now. It was supposed to be a very light-hearted fic but it has turned pretty dark.

Summary: Tav broke their agreement by handing the Crown of Karsus to Mystra instead of Raphael. Not only that, but she also robbed his house and killed his incubus. Raphael is patient and he is determined to get his revenge. Tav gets chained to the House of Hope with constructs similar to those of Prince Orpheus'. When her friends eventually come to save her and brings him back his Orphic Hammer, Raphael will kill each and every one of them in front of her before claiming what is rightfully his: her soul...

…Tav isn't too bothered. She will figure something out eventually. Until then she just has to find a way to live peacefully with a devil.

The Devil's Dinner Party (AO3 Link):

This one has a special place in my heart because it was the first fic I ever showed anyone! It has a bit of a dark twist that I won't spoil too much. It's three chapters and it's a finished work.

Summary: Tav accepts Raphael’s invitation to a dinner party after she had handed him the Crown of Karsus. None of her companions show up, so it is just her, Raphael, and a bunch of Raphael’s favored clients. Raphael is suspiciously kind to her, but everything might not be as perfect as it seems

More Than Our Fathers (AO3 Link)

I love writing this one so much. It's a Raphael x Demigoddess!Reader fic. It's probably my most planned work to date and I have read so much lore for this one. It is still ongoing but there are currently four chapters.

Summary: It was in the years after the Fall of Netheril that fate decided to push the two of you together: the daughter of the God of Divination and the son of the Archdevil of the Eighth. An unlikely pair, but you learned throughout the years that you had more in common than you thought: you were both driven by ambition and you both longed to become more than what your fathers made you.

A Portrait of a Cambion (AO3 Link)

This was a 'character study turned fic'-kind of situation. It is basically my headcanon about why Haarlep is with Raphael and why he hates his father. It's a story of how he once loved someone and how he learned the consequences of getting distracted by those feelings. It's a oneshot. (Fun fact: I consider it as canon in Living with The Devil You Know too, and when Raphael tells Tav about his previous love, this story is what he is talking about.)

Summary: Raphael rejects his icky mortal feelings for Tav because he remembers what happens when one is distracted by matters of the heart. He reminisces about a woman who taught him how to paint and who stole his non-existent heart over a thousand years ago.

Good Little Mouse

This is just pure depraved smut but I really liked writing it. It's pretty short. It is also pretty fucked up so remember to read the warnings.

Summary: Reader/Tav did not give Raphael the Crown but it ended up in his hands anyway. You become Raphael's pet as revenge and he uses the Crown of Karsus on you to keep you docile.

(Thank you so much for the ask! I love the idea of spreading self-love like this. It can be hard to remember to appreciate one's own work I feel like.)

[versadies]

CHAPTER FOURTEEN \\ EVERMORE (VERSADIES'S VERSION)

SYPNOSIS (of chapter). in which a certain ragnvindr's fate and complications in his life have all led up to a certain you.

SYPNOSIS (of series). breaking up with your first love was heartbreaking, but not as heartbreaking as getting invited to his wedding after years of not seeing him. that is, until things seem to be easier when you encounter a certain guest, who could end up being more than just a blooming friend to you.

CHARACTERS. kamisato ayato, diluc ragnvindr, thoma (w/ gn!reader)

CONTENT. angst/comfort, grammar errors (?), mentions of violence, sh1nsuke, minor character death, car accident, mentions of threats, spoilers to diluc's canon backstory, terribly written crime case, diluc and kaeya are in good terms

WORD COUNT. 13.7k words

LINKS. EVERMORE MASTERLIST \ MAIN MASTERLIST \ EVERMORE SURVEY

POST-SCRIPT. thanks to your answers in my recent survey that i posted, i decided to put my taglist at the very bottom of the chapter (as well as my other fics from now on) so you could have an easier time reading <333 i hope this version doesn’t disappoint you :DDDD

PREVIOUS || NEXT || ORIGINAL VERSION

A few things Diluc had lost were the bright hopes and future he once had when he was but a teen who's ready to fulfill as many achievements and dreams as he can. 

He could still remember how happy he was with the life he had back then, how he dedicated himself to being faithful with his duties as a detective in the Favonius, Mondstadt’s police department, and used to follow his father around, listening to every word he says as he learns the ways of running the business. 

He remembers all the lessons Crepus taught. He remembers his first time making a drink with the ingredients his father provided on a long table. He remembers his first time serving drinks to customers in Angel’s Share. He remembers his first time attending a business event with his father. 

He remembers his past too much. A price to pay for dwelling too much in the past. 

That Diluc is long gone. All that remains is his shell that’s swallowed by guilt, pain, and helplessness. 

He does not live for himself, but lives for his family’s business to continue thriving and succeed like what his father wanted him to do. He lives to fulfill his father's wishes written on an old piece of paper. He lives to make sure his land is safe from the corrupted and from harm. 

He lives to deal with the burdens that he gained from his birthday. A special, cruel gift from fate.

Wine is something he didn’t like much, which is ironic for someone who specializes in making them. His father actually planned to let him try some of their famous wines that people loved once he’s allowed to, until something happened. 

Wine.. reminds him too much of what happened. 

Diluc didn’t expect to lose his father so early, especially since his father is a healthy man who still had a life ahead of him and a son to guide. He thought his father would live long until he died of old age, a peaceful way of meeting death’s doorstep. 

If only it weren’t for that treacherous car accident…

If only that drunk driver didn’t drink at all with a darn wine. 

For one moment, Diluc was sitting right across from his father in their private van. They were just talking about what Adelaide would cook for dinner, they were just discussing about the client they were talking with earlier, they were just talking about what his father was supposed to say– 

Then before he knew it, everything was turned upside down. Literally. 

He has a hard time breathing, his vision is blurry as he feels lightheaded from being upside down. 

Father…

Diluc tries to get his vision clear and come to his senses. He could hear people screaming somewhere, there’s something that tastes like metallic in his mouth, everything’s hot,  he feels like he’s about to puke– but where is his father?

“Fa…Father…” He calls out. Everything aches so bad, what just happened to him? 

Once Diluc finally sees more, he realizes the car he’s in is upside down. Is this… a car accident? 

The young heir looks ahead when he hears a groan, and his eyes widens at the sight of his father being in the same situation as him – except, his state is way worse than his. 

As for the driver… He doesn’t know where on Earth he is. 

“Fa-Father!” He calls out, his fingers shakily try to unclasp the seatbelt before falling down to the ground that’s filled with the shattered windows from the van. “Father, are you alright?” 

Diluc tries to ignore the pain all over his body as he crawls towards his father and helps him get out of the van. “Hold on, father. I’ll get you out of here!” He says as he reaches out towards his father’s seatbelt to unclasp it. 

“Di..luc? Is that you my.. Son?” Crepus asks weakly, letting out a cough as he falls down from his seat. “I’m glad you’re,” He lets out another cough, “alright…” 

“Don’t worry about me, father.” Diluc reassures him, helping him crawl out of the van through the broken window nearby. The only thing in his head is that he needs to get his father to the hospital immediately. 

As soon as Diluc and Crepus finally manage to get out of the van, the younger man immediately tries to look for his phone in hopes of calling for the ambulance. Thankfully, his phone is still in his pocket and working despite its destroyed state, and he instantly dials the emergency contact. 

“H-Hello? We need help, we’re somewhere by…” As he explains the situation to the operator, the young teen didn’t manage to notice how slow his father’s chest is moving up and down nor did he notice the blood on his hands from covering his mouth when coughing. 

When Diluc finally looks at where his father is, his eyes are full of hope that they’re going to be okay. 

“Father, help is on their way. We’re going to be okay” He says, hoping his father will be alright and be proud of him for what he has done.

Crepus remains silent. 

“...Father?” He quietly calls, his heart sinking when he notices how his father’s chest is stilled. “Father, are you… a-alive?” 

Diluc slowly leaned down with his ear on top of his father’s chest, his eyes widening in fear when he couldn’t hear any heartbeat at all, as though he’s….

No, let’s not jump into conclusions.. He’s probably asleep.. 

The heir gently shakes his father in hopes it’d wake him up, only for his shoulders to sink when his father is still motionless. “Father…?” 

It took the ambulance to arrive for Diluc to stop trying to wake up his father, the paramedics carried him away as another inspected the young heir’s body for any injuries to take care of. 

Whatever the paramedic told Diluc, he did not pay any attention to it. Not when he’s watching the two paramedics looking at each other with hesitant looks on their faces after putting all of their efforts in trying to bring back Crepus, who remains motionless. 

The light in Diluc’s eyes fades away when he realizes what just happened. 

He thought this was just a horrible nightmare. He thought he’d wake up to the familiar sight of his room and continue living in his life with his father who’s alive. It wasn’t until he realized he’s in the hospital room when his hopes shattered in realization that his father was dead and gone. 

“Breaking News! The infamous wine tycoon, Crepus Ragnvindr, has unfortunately passed away due to a car accident. His son, Diluc Ragnvindr, has fortunately survived from the accident. We do not have any updates on the young heir’s condition, but we can only hope that he is well and we give him our condolences for his father’s passing.”

Diluc finds himself staring at the TV helplessly as he continues to stay on his hospital bed. After the paramedics took him and his father to a nearby hospital, he was hospitalized in a VIP room after getting his wounds treated.

Why did this happen? 

He looks down at his bandaged-hands, only for him to remember seeing his father’s blood on his hands. 

Why not me?

He suddenly hears a knock, to be followed by someone entering the room. 

“And here I thought you’d never wake up.” Kaeya spoke as he closed the door behind him, a bouquet of flowers in his hand. “How are you?” 

Diluc stays silent, still staring at his hands. 

“...Why am I still alive?” 

The red head didn’t bother to look at his sworn brother, who was extremely taken back by his question. 

“...Why shouldn’t you be?” Kaeya responds, his tone is more serious. “What happened last night is out of your control–”

“I could’ve done something.” He interrupts, he now looks at the blue-haired man with an unfamiliar expression that wasn’t seen before from the usual brightful man. 

It’s as if said brightful man has died with his father.

The blue-haired man dared not to say another word, causing the other to continue speaking. “I could’ve… I could’ve dragged him myself until I found a hospital. Or… Or maybe I could’ve noticed the signs more and performed CPR – but I was busy talking to the operator I couldn’t… I could’ve done something instead of watching him die.” 

Diluc clenches his fists at the memory of the car accident. If only he watched his father more carefully, if only he insisted that they went to another place, if only–

If only he was the one who died instead of his father. 

He can’t imagine running Angel’s Share on his own nor can’t he imagine being able to keep his family’s business together at this age. He thought his father would guide him all the way – he thought he wouldn’t be alone. 

He doesn’t even know if he’s ready to become the next head of the Ragnvindr family. 

“Whatever you could’ve done, there’s no point in that anymore when it already happened.” Kaeya says, grabbing a chair nearby and placing it beside Diluc’s bed before sitting down on it. “Father wouldn’t want to see you like this. He’d want you to carry yourself and take care of the family business with what he had taught you–”

“He isn’t here and he’ll never be.” He snaps. “I can’t just move on and act as if his death doesn’t phase me. I lost someone special to me.”

“He’s someone special to me too.” Kaeya retorts. “You’re not alone, Diluc. You have me, Adelaide, Elzer, and everyone else in the mansion who are willing to help you and be there for you. I’m not saying you should move on and act as if his death doesn’t phase you, but you should stop thinking of what could’ve been and think of what could be now.”

Diluc looks away from his sworn-brother, knowing he’s right. 

It’s true… It’s better for him to think of what he can do now instead of the past. 

“Did you find out who was behind the car accident?” Diluc questioned.

The blue-haired man fell silent.

“What would you do if I said yes?” Kaeya asks, leaning back against his chair. 

Diluc took a long while to answer, something that made Kaeya guess his answer already. The young heir – well, the young CEO rather – is not one to sit idly by and let justice handle itself, it’s precisely why he’s such an efficient officer who never lets one case go ignored or incompleted. 

So when he finally answered, Kaeya did not believe it one bit. 

“Nothing.” 

Liar. I bet you’ll suddenly disappear from this room the next day. Kaeya thought. Yet then again, regardless of what he’ll say to Diluc, he knows he’ll only get himself out later on to find more answers. 

“I better not receive any calls from the hospital about you disappearing,” He said, letting out a defeated sigh. “There was a driver who crashed into your van. He’s currently imprisoned and will face charges as well as imprisonment.”

Diluc was about to open his mouth for another question when Kaeya lifted up his hand to stop him. “I’m not some person of interest being interrogated. Save your questions for later, focus on your health first.” He clarifies. “I can’t disclose too much about the incident to you since Chief Varka instructed me to, but I can reassure you we have everything under control, brother.” 

The red-haired looks at him with an unexplainable expression on his face. 

“...Fine.” 

And so, Diluc trusted Kaeya, knowing fully well all the words his sworn brother told him were all a lie.

Eventually, he found out that the police suspected it was a drunk driver who drove into the car. However, thanks to the security cameras around that area being disabled due to technical problems that have been ongoing for the past weeks before, it took a while to find out who was exactly the drunk driver that managed to get away from the scene of the crime before the authorities arrived.

What made it more strange was how the person who was driving the van is not the same driver who usually brings Diluc and Crepus around the place. The driver was left behind in the building he and his father  visited, meaning that this whole time, the two men were unknowingly in the same car with an unknown person who has unexplained motives. 

Diluc could only guess the motives weren’t pleasant given the aftermath. 

Unfortunately, the police weren’t able to find the unknown driver and are still looking for him, making all the things worse for Diluc, who feels like his lifespan is draining away the more he stays in the hospital doing nothing but wait and ponder. 

Countless time that’s spent inside the hospital room made the red-haired feel suffocated. His patience is getting thin each time he receives no useful information whatsoever about the damn cause of the car accident that drove his father to death, his overwhelming guilt for being the only one to survive is getting bigger each day after spending too much in his thoughts, and his loneliness began to devour him inside out as the sounds of the TV news were just white noise to him. 

He hates that he’s doing nothing. 

It would’ve been better if he didn’t feel anything, but at this moment, he’s feeling everything. 

Eventually, Kaeya and the others manage to find out who was involved in the incident – an FPD officer in his mid-20s who was trying to move on from a heartbreak, only to end up drinking more than he intended and got into a car accident. 

He’s relieved that they finally found who was partially the cause of it, but that doesn't mean he feels like he can rest peacefully. 

Not when the other driver is still missing. 

It took a few more days until there’s finally more news about what FPD (Favonius Police Department) would do to the drunk driver, but it wasn’t what Diluc was hoping for. 

“What…?” He asks for Kaeya to repeat what he had just said from the phone. It felt unreal to hear it – he would’ve thought his brother is joking with him again if it weren’t for the remorseful tone in his voice. 

Surely… Surely Favonius did not go mad while he was gone, did they? 

“I’m sorry you have to hear this, brother.” Kaeya said. “I couldn’t believe it either. When I came back from the hospital, Amber suddenly informed me that Officer Pallad was released with no charges at all.” 

Had Diluc not controlled his strength, his phone would’ve been crushed and destroyed from anger. 

“Why?” 

“...Lieutenant Eroch informed me it was because there was not enough evidence to prove that he’s the one who was involved with the incident. Don’t worry, my team and I are already looking for more evidences–”

“I’ve waited long enough.” Diluc interrupts before ending the phone call, his eyes darted towards his coat that’s hanging near the door.

It wouldn’t hurt to have a chat with Lieutenant Eroch, would it? 

“My deepest condolences for your loss, Detective Ragnvindr.” Eroch said, sitting on his chair as Diluc stood across from him. “Alberich informed me that you were still hospitalized, but it appears he isn’t aware that you’re discharged today. How are you?” 

“I’ve been feeling better.” He answers, not bothering to give him a polite smile as he usually does with everyone back then. “May I ask something regarding the case of the car accident?” 

Eroch hums. “Getting to the topic, huh? Alright, you may.” 

“...Why did you release Officer Pallad?” 

It took a few moments before the lieutenant let out a sigh, as though he suspected the young detective to ask such a question. “I may have realized that our officers could possibly have arrested the wrong man after the testimony of Officer Pallad during our interrogation. I cannot let our image as the protectors of our city be tarnished for such a possible mistake, especially since he’s a part of the department.” 

“But the evidence is all there, is it not?” Diluc clarifies, not caring about the fact that he could get in trouble for questioning a higher up’s motives. “Alberich found that Officer Pallad was in Angel’s Share before he drove through the route that led to the car accident. He’s the only one whose vehicle has a huge dent at the fr–”

“It’s not enough for us to officially conclude it’s him who crashed into your van.” Eroch interrupts.

“Then what will it take for you and the others to consider him being–” 

“Never. Unless you have a clear footage of Officer Pallad’s vehicle crashing into yours.” 

Diluc tries not to feel hopeless. “...What about the person who was driving the van? Did your team at least find something about them?” 

Eroch shakes his head. “Unfortunately we have not. But that’s none of our concerns at the moment, not when there are other important cases we have to look into.” 

The red-haired man feels his hands clenched into fists. “None of your concerns? You’re looking for the two people who killed my father–”

“Tell me, Detective Ragnvindr. Are you here to waste my time telling me to do something I can’t do in a blink of an eye? Or are you here to give me something worth my time?” 

The other man stays silent, his mind filled with more questions instead of the answers he wanted. 

Why? 

It didn’t help that the lieutenant looked less guilty and more bored, something that made Diluc start considering if the police department truly serves to protect the people of Mondstadt.

Eroch lets out another sigh before standing up. “I assure you detective that we’ll quickly let you know if we found something about the culprits, but now is not the time unfortunately. It’s best that you should keep this a secret from the public. We wouldn’t want our reputation to be tarnished because of a reckless officer drinking. If we won’t be able to find the culprits, then we have no choice but to consider–“

Eroch stopped talking when he hears something on his table, causing him to glance down and realize it’s a badge,

The badge that belongs to Diluc. 

“Forget it.” The detective said in a cold tone before turning around to take his leave.

The lieutenant didn’t bother convincing Diluc to change his mind, and simply watched as the ex-detective left his office with all hope and faith lost in him. 

All that remains is the determination in bringing down what brought his father to his death. 

When Kaeya found out, he did not find the power to persuade his brother to come back and work for FPD, not when Diluc isn’t the type to retire from his career as a detective so quickly. Instead, he wished him well and made sure to let him know that he will do his best to help his dear brother out in finding out the culprits of the accident, something that the red-haired appreciated.

The news that Diluc has retired from being a detective spread like wildfire the day after. It didn’t matter what the public thinks, all that mattered for Diluc is that his father gets a proper and quiet funeral that he deserves. 

The funeral… It’s hard to talk about it. 

The ceremony left an empty part in the poor young man’s heart. Had it not been for Kaeya and those who work in the mansion, he would’ve felt alone. There wasn’t an overwhelming number of people who came to his funeral, but just the right amount of people for others to know how much Crepus was cared for and loved by a lot of people. Some were his close acquaintances in the business world, some were his old pals, some were his dear friends, and some were employees from both the mansion and from Angel’s Share who have been loyal for a long time. 

Diluc tried to hold it together and not break down in front of everyone, wanting people to know that he can handle Angel’s Share without his father’s guidance anymore. It still feels unreal that he won’t see his father for the rest of his life now. 

I promise father, Diluc thought in his mind as he placed a flower on top of Crepus’s coffin. I promise I will find out who caused your death and will make sure justice will come. 

Of course, just because he stopped working in FPD, it doesn’t mean he’ll stop helping and protecting everyone in his nation. 

Diluc plans to disappear sometime after his father’s burial, wanting to find out who crashed into the van and who was driving the van that he and Crepus were in. The least he can do is to bring justice to those who are responsible for his father’s undeserving death. 

Before that, he must hear his father’s wills as well as a paper that’s written by his father that Adelaide managed to find when she was fixing the passed CEO’s bedroom. 

His wills are simple. The mansion, the company, the establishment will now be in the hands of Diluc as he is the rightful heir. Kaeya got some valuable items of Crepus that’ll be of use to his life and his job in Favonius. The rest of the items will then be handed over to both charity and to Alice, Diluc’s godmother.

As for the paper… 

It was a letter for both Diluc and Kaeya that the passed CEO managed to write in case he died. Not only did it contain advice and going through the memory lane, it also contained secret feelings and unsaid words that the man didn’t get to say. 

One of them in particular is his wish for Diluc’s future. 

“...I fear that I might not make it to watch you grow up into the man who has a life ahead of him, and it breaks my heart to imagine you reading this if I died too soon. My son, your journey will not be easy if I’m no longer here, but I know you can get through this. You have people who care for you as much as I do and I know they’re all happy to help you with the troubles that can come in your way. I wish you nothing but happiness and safety in your life, so please, do not mourn for me forever and move on in a healthy way. Do not burden yourself with what you could’ve done, instead, accept that you can’t change the past and only learn from it. 

If fate decides so, I hope that someday, you’ll meet someone who you consider as your equal and the person you want to spend the rest of your life with. Treat them with respect, understanding, and love like I did with your mother and I hope they’ll do the same with you. Don’t concern yourself with what the public thinks and what I would think. Just know that it’ll make your old man happy if you’re going to spend the rest of your life with someone who makes you happy and feel cherished. (the rest of the letter is blank, making it evident that Crepus hasn’t finished it completely for unknown reasons).”

Diluc didn’t know what to think when he read it, he could only close his father’s letter and keep his words to his heart. 

Now that the wills have been revealed, Diluc and Kaeya have no choice but to come visit Alice – who’s currently in Liyue for her next book about the region – to transfer some items for her. 

“My deepest condolences for your loss.” She said, watching as Diluc sat down on his seat across from hers as someone filled his drink with tea. Unfortunately, Kaeya had a call from work and won’t be able to come inside the room to talk to the woman. “It saddens me that your father has to go so soon. How have you and Kaeya been?” 

“Thank you… We’re doing well, Aunt Alice.” Diluc responds.

The woman smiles lightly. “That’s good to hear.. I’m sorry to hear that you haven’t found those who are responsible for the… accident. But you must know, revenge won’t do much for your grievance towards your father.” 

The red-haired man tries not to look surprised, but stays silent, causing Alice to continue. 

“I know it’s difficult to lose someone who guides you in your life. Partings are the most painful things, but they also encourage us to grow. A bird that has lost the roof over its head will fly further than others of its kind.” 

She then lets out a chuckle. “But of course.. I know you wouldn’t be persuaded by my words, so I wish you still have your sense of good and justice on your journey to look for them. It’s not an easy task I bet, but I’m sure you’ll be able to catch them with your capabilities.” 

The woman’s eyes gazed towards a bulletin board on one of the walls before looking back at the young man. “Should you be able to find the culprits, then you can try to go out and see the world afterwards. That’s the best course of action I can envision for you. Only by feeling, observing, and listening can your heart be healed. Everything that was your father now finds new life with you, that which you will experience in this world may have been things that your father experienced once upon a time.” 

When Diluc looks at the older woman’s eyes, it screams nothing but good things for him and Kaeya. 

Something he never thought he needed until now. 

“...Thank you for your words.” 

“Anything for you. I hope that the wind will bring you all manner of wondrous things in your many journeys to come, Diluc. Should you need a person to talk to or consult with, I’m always willing to lend an ear. I hope you won’t mind if I treat you as if you were my own child.” 

–

It only took two days for Diluc and Kaeya to deal with the rest of the items that once belonged to Crepus while catching up with Alice before they decided to take their leave. Not only did they both have to go back for their jobs, but Diluc also had to go back to start his search in finding the culprits of the accident.

Before the two young men could leave the estate Alice lives in, the woman stops them for a moment. 

“One last thing before you two go.” The woman then pulls out two items: a pocket watch and an earring with a blue jewel in it. “These belong to your father who left these with me back then. I think it’s best if you have these instead.” 

Diluc hesitantly grabs the pocket watch while Kaeya grabs the earring, letting out a comment about “what a perfect timing this is, I was thinking of a good accessory to buy as a souvenir from Liyue.” causing Alice to laugh.

“Thank you, Aunt Alice. We wish you well on your journey as well as your work.” Diluc said politely.

Alice waves them off. “Have a safe trip, boys. Do tell my darling Klee that I said hi when you get back, alright?” 

And so, the two men left. 

As they’re on their way to the airport, Diluc stares down at the pocket watch Alice gave him, his mind filled with what’s to come for him once he comes back. 

He can’t turn back now, not when the two drivers could potentially hurt someone else.

“You’re planning something, aren’t you?” Kaeya asks suddenly, causing the red-haired man to look up at his sworn brother.  

“...What’s it to you?” 

The blue-haired man lets out a chuckle. “Oh Diluc, I thought you’ve learned by now that I wouldn’t let you do things on your own, have you?” 

He lets out a sigh in response. “I don’t need your help. This should be something I must do on my own–”

“You’re finding the two culprits who are responsible for our father's death, so I too want to take them both down with you because they deserve to go to jail for their crimes. Besides, you’re no longer a detective in FPD, the least thing I can do is to hand out some information that’s given to us, particularly the one that involves the mysterious driver that managed to get his hands on your van.” 

His eyes slightly widened from hearing that. “...There’s info on the driver now?”

Kaeya hums. “It’s not much, but it’s worth reading it since I’m sure it’ll help you with your investigation. Feel free to ask more about the case, it’ll definitely take some work off my shoulders if you somehow find that driver. I’ll take care of the aftermath once you do” 

Diluc stays quiet for a moment. 

“..Fine, you can hand it over to me anytime. Just.. make sure to keep an eye on Eroch and his men.” He says.

The blue-haired crosses his arms. “Who said I don’t? That lieutenant has been suspicious since day one. I’m relieved Deputy Chief Jean is quite determined to investigate him and see if there’s anything suspicious.” 

Jean…

“You mean Gunnhildr?” Diluc asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes. She recently transferred to the department thanks to Chief Varka. I caught her skimming around the lieutenant's office while he was gone.” Kaeya then smiles. “You should try talking with her. Isn’t she an old friend of yours?” 

“We weren’t close.” 

“Still. I’m sure she’ll be delighted to see someone who’s just like her in the department – besides the retirement – and is familiar with her personally.” 

The red-haired man thinks about it for a while.

“I’ll.. Think about it sometime.” 

“Perfect.” 

By the time the two men are on their way through the airport, Diluc finds himself immersed in his thoughts about his plan in going around Mondstadt to look for the culprits who are responsible for his father’s death. He was so distracted that he didn’t pay attention to how there are paparazzis lingering around nor did he realize that he was about to bump into someone until it’s too late.

“Sorry.” He mutters to the person he bumped into before continuing his way towards his plane. He failed to notice how a certain item managed to slip out from the pocket of his black and long coat. 

Until he hears someone calling him. 

“Sir!” The stranger called, causing Diluc to stop his tracks for a moment and turn around to see if the stranger was calling him, only to spot someone walking towards him with a familiar object that he stared at moments ago.  

“You dropped this,” you said, showing him the pocket watch, “sorry again for bumping into you, by the way.” 

Diluc’s eyes slightly widened, a bit stunned by your kind act. Had it been anyone else, they probably would’ve kept it with them..

He slowly grabs the watch from you. “Thank you.” 

You give him a smile and nod in response. “It’s no problem” 

Without another word, you immediately ran off from Diluc, as if you didn’t just get the chance to meet Mondstadt’s two most famous men. 

“My, I’m surprised they didn’t know about us two, Diluc.” Kaeya spoke in amusement, watching you go away. “You’re lucky they gave you that pocket watch. I’m not sure what would happen to you if you lost your father's watch after he just died.”

Diluc’s expression quickly changes to a glare, looking at Kaeya’s direction. “Watch your mouth before I make sure you’re not going to my private plane on our way back to Mondstadt.” 

The other laughed. “I’m rich too, Diluc.” 

The red-haired man then turns around. “We should go before we start wasting our time. The sooner we get to Mondstadt, the better.”

“Whatever you say, brother.” 

–

Diluc didn’t hesitate to start his search immediately when he arrived in Mondstadt.

Unfortunately, after Pallad was released from the department cell, the vehicle that had a dent was immediately returned to him, so there’s a chance that it’s gone by now. 

Despite being accused of reckless driving and a culprit of a car accident, Pallad still had the audacity to come back to Angel’s Share – not that the CEO is complaining, this definitely made things easier for him.

It’s already an alarming sight to see the officer using a new vehicle. 

For the rest of the night, the young CEO listens attentively to Pallad’s conversations with other customers who are familiar with him. There wasn’t any useful information until someone finally asked the officer about his car. Apparently, he got himself a new car because his other one is too old and not functioning well, making him give it up in a car graveyard. 

That was all the information he needed.

It took a while when Diluc finally found the graveyard that Pallad owns with the help of some of his connections (one of them being Kaeya, who told him the details of what the car looks like). It wasn’t hard to find the car Pallad used since he only gave it up recently, but it was hard to hold himself back after seeing the officer’s car that clearly has a huge dent despite seeing it for the second time.

He will never forgive that drunkard for killing his father.  

Diluc was at the very least relieved when he spotted a dash cam inside the car. The officer must’ve been confident enough to not consider deleting footage of his dash cam, thinking it’ll be destroyed thanks to the graveyard. Unfortunately though, the dash cam was broken from possibly the accident, so it took a while to restore the footage until the ex detective got his hands on the piece of evidence that Eroch will surely not reject.

After the repair, Diluc sent it to Kaeya, who would pass it to Chief Varka and drag Pallad back to prison at last. 

All that’s left was the unknown driver. 

If it weren’t for Kaeya’s help in giving him information, Diluc wouldn’t know where to start. The only information the Favonious Department found about the culprit is they’re a part of an organization called the Fatui, based on a blurry CCTV that contains footage of someone in a Fatui uniform infiltrating the parking lot where the Ragnvindr’s van is and was never seen coming out. 

The Fatui… Just hearing that name made Diluc feel angry.

They’re not an unfamiliar name in the business world. They’re known for being dangerous, powerful, threatening, and not to be underestimated. A woman who owns the company, Tsaritsa, is the most powerful person in all of Snezhnaya. People in the cold region respect her and look up to her for her contributions to the country, particularly the advanced technology that she invented. Those who aren't from Snezhnaya look at her in the opposite way.

Crepus and Diluc are those people. 

He’s heard of what they do to those who have wronged the company as well as the things they can do to those who associate with them. It’s a miracle that the Ragnvindr hasn’t interacted with them at all (as far as the young CEO knows at least..), and as the new CEO, he knew he had to keep it that way.

Now that he thinks about it, just what did Crepus do if Fatui is responsible for his death? 

Diluc isn’t sure if he wants to know the answer. 

But he knows he has to. He has to understand why this happened to his father and where the driver ran off to, even though he’s fully aware that he won’t be able to grasp the full truth of the story. 

He then considers Alice’s advice: to travel around Teyvat. The Fatui is everywhere in the world, so he plans to go through every single one of them in each nation until he reaches Snezhnaya, where he’ll try to confront those who hold the higher ground of the Fatui and hopefully learn the truth. 

He hands over the Dawn Winery business to Adelaide, Elzer, and Kaeya and informs them that they can always reach him through messages. He trusts them all that his family business won’t sink and will remain as strong as ever, so he isn’t worried that he’ll be contacted to come back to Mondstadt to fix a situation. 

“How long will you be away?” Kaeya asks as he watches his brother pack his items in his luggage. “I’m not sure how to tell everyone about your leave, what should I answer if they ask when you’ll come back?” 

“Tell them I’ll be back in due time.” He answers, focusing on thinking about what else to bring for his travels. “I can’t… guarantee when I’ll come back. This won’t be an easy trip for me.” 

“Of course not, not when you’re taking on the Fatui.” The blue-haired said, his smile begins to fade. “Just… make sure not to die while you’re at it. I can’t attend another funeral again.”

“No promises.” 

The two of them then fell silent. The only noise around the room is Diluc placing his necessities in his luggage.

“...Could you at least talk to Miss Jean once before you leave?” Kaeya asks.

Diluc lets out a sigh. “Why are you so insistent on me talking to her?” 

His brother lets out a chuckle. “Don’t get me wrong, brother. I’m simply convincing you to talk to her about the FPD. She has more information than anyone else in the department and might be a great help to you, trust me.”

Kaeya wasn’t wrong about that. “Fine, I’ll consider having a chat with her if that’ll keep your mouth shut.” He said with a huff. 

Kaeya smirks. “Good. You can thank me by giving me a free drink in your establishment if you end up getting good information out of that hangout.” 

“In your dreams.” 

– 

With the help of Kaeya, Diluc was able to contact Jean and see if she’s willing to spend some time with him, only for her to instantly agree and invite him to a private restaurant where they won’t be disturbed.

“It’s an honor to be able to meet you, Mr. Ragnvindr.” Jean said with a polite smile as she and Diluc sat down on their seats across from one another, the server pouring water on their glasses before handing out two menus and taking his leave. “I hope you didn’t have a hard time finding this place, did you?” 

The red-haired man shakes his head. “No worries, I didn’t have any difficulties. How’s your… day?” 

“I’m relieved you didn’t have any hard time, and my day has been a breeze, thank you.” She then lifts up her cup towards her lips. “If I may ask, what brings you to spend time with me today?” She asks before taking a sip of her drink. 

He lets out a sigh when he remembers his brother. “Ah… You should thank Kaeya for that. He’s been nagging me to come and talk to one of my colleagues before I take my leave.” 

Jean’s eyes widened. “Oh, you’re leaving?” 

He nodded in response. “I’m planning to… travel to some places. I won’t be back for a long time, so I’m sure a lot of things will change by the time I return.” He explained. 

“I see… I understand, you need something to get your mind off of everything.” She says with a sad smile. “I hope you get something out of your trip, and may the wind lead you to the closure you needed.” 

He processes her words. “...Thank you.” 

Something flashes through Diluc’s eyes, and the atmosphere turns serious. “I hope you don’t mind, but I would like to discuss something regarding… something about a certain PD.” He adds. 

Jean stays silent for a moment, also turning serious.

“...Is this related to the reason why you’ve asked for a chat with me?” She asks. 

Well, she isn’t wrong about that. Diluc was already considering meeting up with Jean as soon as Kaeya told him about how the woman had her eye on Lieutenant Eroch as soon as she was transferred for reasons unknown. There’s no doubt that there’s something amiss in the police department given how sudden her transfer was, and it’s related to the lieutenant who shrugged off the case of his accident. 

Could he be the one behind his father’s death perhaps?

Diluc feels a little guilty for talking to the woman simply because of how she has the information he wanted. “Yes. I understand if you’re not willing to talk about it.” 

Jean shakes her head reassuringly. “No it’s alright. I have a feeling I know where this is going now.” 

She then looks around cautiously before whispering, “we are talking about Lieutenant Eroch, right?” 

He nodded. “Correct. I heard that you’ve been skimming around his office.” 

“You must’ve heard it from Mr. Alberich then.” She says with a light chuckle. “He’s the only one outside of the operation who knows, your brother has my deepest gratitude – if anything, I would’ve been easily caught by Lieutenant Eroch and make the situation worse if your brother tells him.” 

“What’s your purpose there?” He asks. 

Jean taps her fingers on the table, careful of what to say. “Let’s just say the lieutenant has been way too suspicious lately. Too suspicious that it caught the attention of a certain chief.” 

“And the certain chief requested you to personally investigate it?” 

She hums, looking down at her drink. “I suppose it’s for the better since we’re not sure who’s on our side, hence why I was transferred to the Lion of the South Department (2).” 

“You came from the Falcon of the West Department, correct?”

“Yes. I was actually supposed to come to the Lion of the South Department in a year, but it seems Chief Varka has other plans.” 

Diluc chuckles. “He’s one unpredictable man, indeed.” 

Jean then looks up at the man. “Is there.. Something you want me to do?” 

He crosses his arms. “There is. I take it that you haven’t found anything from his office?” 

She shakes her head with a sigh, only for Diluc to continue his words. “Then you should look on the rooftop.” 

She furrowed her eyebrows, now curious. “May I ask why?” 

“The lieutenant’s always up there if he’s not in the conference room and office.” Diluc says. “I’m sure a man like him wouldn’t go to the rooftop for view-watching or some peace and quiet. You should check if there’s something that’s hidden in sight.” 

Jean nodded slowly. “I see… Thank you for this, Mr. Ragnvindr.” 

“Please, you may call me Diluc.” He says. “I’m sure this won’t be the last time we’ll interact and talk like this.” 

It’s safe to say he’s right, this wasn’t the last time he’ll be interacting with Jean.

He’ll admit, she’s good to cooperate with. Not only did she take note of his advice, she also made sure to give a piece of her mind in return. 

He feels relieved, knowing that someday, the FPD will have yet another reliable and great chief who’ll lead them once Varka steps down. 

As soon as their hangout came to an end, both parties were satisfied with the information they gained. They both agreed to keep in touch with one another through texts so Jean could update him about Eroch (and hopefully something about the Fatui should the Favonius find out about something), thus exchanging each other’s numbers before taking their leave.

Afterwards, he began his journey to travel around Teyvat in search of the truth.

He supposedly wanted to stay in Mondstadt to investigate them, but knowing the possibility that they could be watching him given that he didn’t die from the accident, he instead decided to make it his last resort. 

Of course, he kept in touch with Kaeya, Adelaide, and Jean, who all informed him of updates regarding Mondstadt, the wine establishment, and the FPD. There were many good news to hear, such as how Kaeya became even more famous after a particular case where he found many children who were missing, how Angel’s Share is still the most sought-after establishment–

The one news that made him relieved is how Lieutenant Eroch has finally been arrested for many countless crimes committed, but unfortunately, none of the crimes were involved with the car accident.

He also learned how Chief Varka and a couple of officers were sent to a classified mission, which resulted with Jean becoming the current Chief of Police while he was gone. Meanwhile, Kaeya also became the lieutenant of the FPD, claiming he’s now “oh-so busy after my dearest brother left me here to rot with these never ending cases.” 

In a blink of an eye, four years have passed. 

There was never a moment when his determination wavered, his passion is as strong as an eternal flame that never goes out. He never fails to remember why he’s doing this and why he must finish this journey, reminding himself by remembering all the memories he shared with his father. 

Sometimes, he goes back to that time when Crepus died. Trying to remember if there was a single detail he must’ve missed that could help him make more progress with his investigation, only to bring back the pain, helplessness, and guilt he tried to suppress.

He took down most – if not all – that involved the Fatui’s dirty work, brought down those who are as evil as they can be and exposed them in public, and even fought them with either his own hands or with a weapon should the situation resolve in.. an inappropriate manner. 

Because of this, he’s now considered a threat who shouldn’t be underestimated.

Throughout his trip, he once helped a few people who have the same motives as him, such as a woman from Liyue’s government – the Qixing – whose against one of the members of the board of directors in the Fatui, a young CEO in Inazuma who disapproves the Fatui, a man who holds an important position in Teyvat’s most prestige academy and also has something against the Fatui for reasons he didn’t disclose, and many more. 

However, the most notable person he came to work with is someone who introduced him to a secretive network. If it weren’t for them, he would’ve been killed in Snezhnaya by the Fatui. 

Despite how far he has come, Diluc never encountered Tsaritsa – besides some of the board of the directors, who all have anything but good intentions towards him. This doesn’t mean his journey all came to fruitless of course, not when he learned so much from traveling around the world and encountering other people. 

He looked past his progress from his journey, and after a lot of thoughts, he decided to join the underground intelligence network, where he put all his dedication in it just as he did in the FPD. Not only did he rise up into the upper ranks of the network, he also gained even more useful information about the Fatui, such as how Officer Pallad’s involvement with the accident has nothing to do with the Fatui, causing the driver to run away from the incident since the van is destroyed.  

He also finds out from the network that Fatui can’t touch certain people such as the Tianquan, the Chief of Police, some families, and even certain CEOs of companies who are too valuable in their nations. He also gained new comrades – most of whose pasts are left behind and go on with the future like the wind. 

Perhaps he too, should stop looking back with the past and not think about all of what could’ve been anymore. 

By the time his journey had ended, he had a conclusion. 

The driver is still unknown, but he knew the order came from either the board of the directors, the chairman, or the CEO herself based on certain documents from each branch that mentioned the Ragnvindr name. The possible explanation is that Fatui wanted to  burn down the biggest supplier and the company who has unmatched wines in Mondstadt, whose nation revolves around wine and freedom.

Not to mention how everything will turn out worse should he face the Tsaritsa with ill intentions. Given how the Tsaritsa is one of the most – if not the most – important figures in Snezhnaya, only Celestia can tell what will happen to Diluc. 

He also realized that when he comes back to Mondstadt, he is still just as unsafe as he was during his stay in Snezhnaya.

He started thinking: what if he loses everyone he cares for? What if his brother gets taken? What if his dedicated and loyal employees get hurt? What if he somehow falls in love with someone, and they get hurt because of him? 

This led Diluc to believe that it’s for the best that he tries not to get too close with anyone anymore – let alone fall in love. Hence why he isn’t usually found with people around him, besides those who work for him or want to work with him in the business world of course. 

If he wants to be safe as well as protect those who he cares for, he must protect Mondstadt and become stronger. 

When he finally returned to Mondstadt, everyone was too busy talking about the latest mystery of the nation, aka the person responsible for the crime rates suddenly going down and for dragging criminals to the FPD’s doorstep before the sun rises. No one suspected it was the CEO of Angel’s Share – not when he just came back from his journey (in reality he actually arrived back a bit early but went undercover for a couple of days before announcing his comeback). 

By day, Diluc stays in his office doing his work by signing and approving documents, inventing new beverages, and sometimes serving in Angel’s Share if the days are quite slow. By night, he strolls around the city when everyone’s asleep, looking out for anyone who’s in possible danger as well as anyone who’s possibly a threat. He makes sure no one was followed or stalked, no shops being stolen, and no houses being invaded – it honestly reminded him of his old days as a detective back then. 

To Diluc’s relief, there were no actions from the Fatui towards him ever since he came back to Mondstadt – unless you consider the few Snezhnayan merchants who’d come to the wine tycoon in hopes for a partnership with their business. Of course, that doesn’t mean he’s less cautious and less guarded with his surroundings. 

This went on for the next few years. It’s the same cycle as always besides the special occasions and events he attended to: wake up, get ready, do paperwork in his office, check on his vineyard and think of new drinks to make for his establishment, visit Angel’s Share and help Charles if possible, go back home, start his patrols around the city, go back home and repeat. 

He didn’t mind how nothing’s changed much. As long as he’s doing what he can, he’s content with his life. 

Fast forward, Diluc was recently invited to attend the Grand Goth Hotel for the wedding between Hiiragi Chisato and Kamisato Ayato. Unfortunately he had no one who could be his plus one since everyone is busy, so he thought he’ll just be all alone, something he grew used to and didn’t mind thanks to his four years of exploring around Teyvat. 

Then he met you. 

He bumped into you due to him being distracted by his call with Kaeya. He realized his mistake for not apologizing quickly, but when he turned around to look at where you are, you’re far from his reach. 

He thought that was the end of it, until he saw you again in the souvenir shop hours later. He felt like you looked familiar when he first saw you in the shop, and perhaps you must be feeling the same way as well from how you’ve been staring at him like a hawk. However, when it’s revealed that you’re only staring at him because you remembered him bumping into you, he felt… taken back. That’s the reason why you’ve been staring at him? 

He was even more taken back when you were quick to tell him how he was so rude for not apologizing to you. He’ll admit, it’s sort of a refreshing sight to see someone who isn’t so timid or nervous around him and isn’t afraid to scold someone for their errors no matter who they are. Nevertheless, he didn’t hesitate to apologize for his behavior – and when he found out you’re also a guest in the wedding, he was even willing to pay for your wedding gift if you allow him to share, something you reluctantly agreed on after checking its price. In a way, this is his payment for what you’ve done for him back at the airport (though, he wasn’t aware that you’re the same person that gave him his father’s watch at that time). 

The next time you meet was in Good Hunter’s, whereas he overhears your conversation with who seems to be your group of friends. He didn’t bother listening to it, until he heard his name being mentioned. 

When you explained how you don’t like him because of how rude he is, he felt taken back once again. Were you really that hurt from him bumping into you? Well, his shoulders are broad and must’ve hit you quite harshly if he wasn’t careful at that time, so he can’t blame you for thinking he’s rude for that. 

But then again, he thought buying those champagne flutes for you was enough… 

Turns out, it is enough. 

It was strange how he keeps seeing you these days, especially this particular day. Almost everywhere he goes, you’re also there. It was quite an interesting  situation, he thinks. 

However, he knows that he shouldn’t get close to you. He swore to never be close with anyone anymore (with the exception of his loved ones) and you cannot be an exception. That’s why he has to make sure he can’t meet you again, for you and his sake. 

Yet despite his oath, he still finds himself getting involved with you – especially during one of those encounters when he sees you in a rather uncomfortable situation. 

He recognizes the two men talking to you as being the members of the Kamisato family. He would’ve mind his business if it weren’t for how you seem to be in need of help, 

And Diluc is not someone who ignores such a situation.

So he comes over to where you are, acting as if he was looking for you despite a part of him telling him to not go and help you. Fortunately, you caught on to what he was trying to do and played along to his lie, something that the other two men fell for and decided to leave you two alone. 

He’s not one to pry into someone’s life, but he wonders what the Kamisato has done to make you so distraught and sad. Instead of asking, he simply kept his mouth shut and offered you his handkerchief, and you reluctantly grabbed it from him. 

The gesture made him finally realize why you’re so familiar to him. 

The incident was years ago, but he’ll never forget you giving him back something precious to  him. He really can’t imagine what would’ve happened if he lost one of the things that belonged to his father. He isn’t sure if you remembered it, but it didn’t matter, because he finally repaid his gratitude to you. 

After comforting you, he eventually found out that you indeed had forgiven him already, causing him to feel a bit embarrassed that he’s been thinking that you still haven’t forgiven him. 

As soon as you enter your hotel room after what happened, Diluc realizes that somehow, this wedding no longer seems to be as lonely as he anticipated it to be. 

You became a familiar sight for Diluc from then on as much as he didn’t want to.

The next time you meet is in the bachelor party, whereas the two of you started to get to know each other more. You’re pleasant and smooth to talk with, and there was never a moment where the two of you felt off with your conversation despite some differences with opinions and ideas – at least, that’s what he feels – and bonded a lot on how you two have a lot in common. 

You’re not afraid to speak your thoughts and even laughed at some words he said that were unintentionally a joke. Even though you now know of his achievements and reputation, you still treated him the same, which is something that made him feel pleasant. Even more so when you praised him for being such “a cool multitasker” as you watch him make drinks and serve them throughout your conversation with each other. 

He can’t help but be reminded of his father, and yet for some reason, he didn’t feel remorse from that.

He’d never thought he’d click with someone, let alone having a conversation that could last forever, like he did with you. Interacting with you feels like he doesn’t have to be so uptight and has to keep up with the formalities – especially after convincing him that he doesn’t have to do so – and he’s free to say his thoughts.

When you decide to stop your conversation for a moment and excuse yourself to go to the bathroom, Diluc tries not to show the disappointment in his eyes and words. It’s strange to him, why is he so disappointed? You’ll come back anyway just like you said. 

As he waits and waits, he earns himself a new company.

Kamisato Ayato is… One secretive and mysterious man. It’s not something Diluc is suspicious of, really. If anything, the two of them have a few things in common, such as their shared determination in protecting the people they care for, their shared experiences of being the CEO at such a young age, their shared experiences of losing their parents–

As well as messing with the Fatui.

Diluc isn’t so surprised with the fact that the other is aware of his dangerous situation with the organization, but he was surprised that the groom had to send him a warning about being careful with how he spends time with you, who is still in the bathroom doing only Celestia knows what. 

His warning alone made the bartender wake up from his daze, and he faced the reality he had always hated. 

You can’t be involved with someone like him, a man whose hands have been dirtied and committed things that he dares not to explain. 

Once you’re entangled with him, you’ll simply be yet another person he has to protect from the Fatui and the burdens of only simply being his friend. Although he’s more than capable of dealing with the Fatui, he knows that spending time with you will only make things hard for you. 

Not to mention how people would react if they see you spending time with Diluc, and only Celestia can tell how drastic the rumors can be once this spreads around, so Ayato is indeed right, he should leave you alone. 

He does not acknowledge how such thought aches his chest deeply.

Still, he knows that ignoring you wouldn’t do anything but cause problems, so he tells himself that it’s up to you if you still want to spend time with him. 

And it seems you do, especially the next day after that.

The CEO was surprised to see you entering Angel’s Share, especially since the wedding is today. What surprised him more was when he realized just how much he missed you – or talking to you rather. 

What a strange feeling… 

As he continues doing his job, he can’t help but observe you from afar; a habit that he does at times during his shifts here whenever an unfamiliar customer visits the establishment but unlike everyone he observes, he doesn’t observe you out of suspicion that you have something up your sleeve. You looked like you’re enjoying your time with your few friends, something that made him quite happy to see (even though one of your friends is someone who’s rather a hassle in his establishment when he feels like it). 

He feels all the more pleasant when you decide to chat with him for a bit as though you’re old time friends, not realizing that he may or may not have slipped up a few words that he didn’t really mean, making you assume that he’s just there for the wedding to serve his finest drinks. 

It’s only a matter of time until Diluc realizes what he was doing, especially when he finds himself looking at your way unintentionally. You just look so out of place in Angel’s Share in such a good way that his eyes are drawn to you, like how a moth can’t help but be captivated by a shining light.

It comforted him to see you being relaxed in his establishment – be it because he’s happy to see his customers satisfied or because you’re happy – and he wanted to let it stay that way, especially when he has a few guesses on why you were saddened whenever the groom of the wedding is around. 

When he catches on to the fact that you’re also staring at him, he can’t help but feel conscious about himself, thinking about how he mixes his drinks, how he positions himself by the bar, or how he talks to his fellow customers politely, he wonders what you think about what he’s doing even if it’s the simplest of gestures. 

…Is this really something friends think of about each other? 

By the time it’s time for you and your two friends to leave in order to get ready for the wedding, Diluc couldn’t help but feel disappointed, wanting to say more to you but couldn’t. 

However, when you take one more look at him while he’s staring at you as well, and give him an acknowledged nod with that smile of yours; he knows the two of you will eventually talk again and catch up once more.

For some reason, he’s looking forward to the wedding more than ever. 

By the time he makes it to the wedding, he was a bit surprised to see that the ceremony hasn’t commenced yet. His surprise instantly disappears when his eyes land on you, who looks as though you’re looking for someone. Could it be him, he hopes? 

Thankfully, luck was on Diluc’s side. Seeing how there’s one more seat that’s empty beside yours, he slowly makes his way over to you to sit on that empty chair. When he sits down, you instantly look at him and your eyes brighten. 

Him noticing you being excited from simply seeing him made the wine tycoon feel.. Something. Important? Valued? He isn’t sure anymore, he’s at a loss for words when it comes to you.

Truly, this must be something friends have sometimes. 

As he watches the wedding ceremony commence, he can’t help but feel as if someone’s watching him from behind. This caused him to cautiously turn around for a bit, only to find the father of the bride glaring at his direction, but not at him it seems. 

He then realizes that the father of the bride was glaring at you.

Diluc couldn’t help but feel protective, internally taking note to watch the current CEO of the Chisato company should he plan to do something to you. 

When the wedding went on to the reception, it seems luck is still on Diluc’s side. When he arrives at his assigned table by looking for his name displayed on the seats, he spots your name on the seat that’s next to his once again. 

It made him feel relieved, knowing that he won’t be sitting next to those who would most likely talk to him in hopes of gaining opportunity to have the CEO’s attention and support in their businesses and whatnot. 

When you find out as well, you’re pleasantly surprised, but nevertheless happy with the arrangement. If anything, it gives you a chance to continue your previous conversation with your friend! 

Throughout the party, the two of you bonded more and are closer than ever. Diluc really couldn’t recall when’s the last time he had a conversation like this. It really feels as if he could never get tired of talking with you and won’t run out of topics to talk about. 

His highlights of your conversation are the times when you laugh at his words, when you listen to him with an awe look on your face, and when you talk so passionately about the things you love. 

Diluc particularly admires how you talk about your beloved nation, Inazuma. You talk as if Inazuma is your child, and you’re a parent who’s proud of it. Not only did you tell him the things that you love about it, but also showed him just how much you missed your home with the longing look on your face. Considering how long you haven’t visited the nation ever since you went to Liyue, he can understand the feeling. 

Someday, he’d like to go there with you… Maybe then you’ll be happier than you are now, and he wants to see that in his own eyes.

After you explained all there is to know about Inazuma, Dilic then shares his own words about his nation in return. He talks about the things that he thinks you might like about his land, only to find that you love everything about Mondstadt and explain how much you love the place, telling him how you’ve always wanted to go to Mondstadt because of its carefree nature and kind people. It was something that Diluc isn’t surprised by – he’s used to many foreigners he had talked to telling him about how wonderful Mondstadt is – and yet, he feels his heart warming hearing such compliments about his home from you. 

While he was explaining though, he can’t help but notice how you’re somewhat.. distracted, as if your thoughts drifted off to something, causing him to feel a bit concerned. Are you bored from his explanation? Did he say something wrong? Or.. Is it because of Ayato? 

When he asked you if you’re alright, you only responded that you’re distracted by the sight of the garden that surrounds the open-air room. He wasn’t convinced obviously, but seeing how you don’t want to admit the real reason, he knows not to push you for it and respect your privacy. 

However, asking you somehow got him to spend time with you in the hotel’s garden. 

Diluc could see why the garden is one of the hotel’s best spots for guests. It’s as magical and peaceful as what most people described. 

And yet, he can’t help but think that this place is all the more magical and special when you’re here with him. 

“It’s so beautiful..!” You comment in pure awe. If you at least glance at where Diluc is, you would’ve realized that he isn’t staring at the view of the garden that is indeed beautiful.

“Indeed.” He quietly agrees, his gaze never left you. 

…

Diluc feels his shoulders sinking a bit. Friends don’t think of each other this way, don’t they?

…

As the two of you stroll around the garden, Diluc covers topics regarding the flowers that surround the two of you and about other things, all the while you listen with great eagerness. 

It was only when he started talking about his first drink when he realized something. 

How long has it been since he talked to someone about his father? Let alone his past?

Was he really that comfortable talking to you to the point where he’s willing to share the things he never thought he’d talk about with someone? 

He was sincerely taken back that he didn’t watch his step and accidentally stumbled from a bump on the pathway. 

…How embarrassing!

His thoughts from before instantly fade away, replaced by how embarrassed he is from the situation he put himself in. It was impressive how you managed to pull him back from falling, had it not been for your strength, he would’ve been even more embarrassed from falling down to the ground completely. 

Unfortunately, it wasn’t the only embarrassing incident that occurred between the two of you. One thing led to one another, and suddenly he finds you hugging his arm out of fear from the sudden appearance of your plus one. 

Diluc felt like he was frozen the moment he felt your touch on him. He didn’t know what to do really, especially when you’re holding onto him as if your life depends on it. It was only by the time you let him go when he felt like he could breathe, watching you walk away first to get back to the venue.

Despite letting him go, he still feels the ghost of your touch. 

–

It seems the night is still young for you and Diluc. 

After the reception, the two of you proceeded to explore around Mondstadt City together to hang out more. But this particular night brought the man to something more than just a hangout. 

The more the both of you continue to spend time together, the more Diluc feels more confused, maybe even worried, about his thoughts and feelings towards you. He doesn’t know who you are to him if not a friend. If you’re indeed just a friend, then why does he feel like it’s more than just? If not a friend, then what? 

Deep inside, a small part of him already knows the answer to his worries and thoughts. 

So when he sees you talking with someone who interrupted your hangout with him, an unpleasant feeling creeps up on him, especially when it turns out that the stranger is someone you’re familiar with. 

He hasn’t felt jealous for a long time until now. 

Just the thought of you being with someone else made him feel unpleasant, and he isn’t sure what to do with it. He could only watch as you happily chatted with Heizou, his mind clouded with conflicts and realizations. 

Diluc realizes that his feelings towards you are something serious. This isn’t a mere admiration and fondness that will go away in a blink of an eye, but the kind of admiration and fondness that made him want more. 

What hurts is that he knows he can’t have that. Not when his life is too complicated to have the happiness he wants to have more with you, not when his life is as dangerous as it can be to have the peacefulness he wants to share with you, and certainly not when he’s sure you don’t feel the same feelings that he feels for you. 

Yes, Diluc finally admitted it. He wants you to be more than his friend. He wants you to be more than just someone who he sees on a daily basis, but someone who he sees when he wakes up to another day, someone who he sees when he’s all dressed up with gifts for yet another memorable date night, someone who understands him more than he understands himself, someone who he kisses goodnight before sleeping away next to each other, someone who he will cherish with all his heart without hesitation, 

Someone who he loves just as soulmates do. 

But he knows that it’s far out of his reach. 

What hurts more is how the two of you won’t be able to see each other soon, and none of you are sure when you’ll be able to.

…It’s for the best, he thinks. 

The morning after, he received a phone call from Kaeya.

“How was the wedding? Any juicy drama that I should know of?” He asks. 

“It was… not bad.” He replies. “I made friends with someone.”

“Wow, there’s actually a person who doesn’t mind Mr. Grumpy? Let me guess, it’s that foreigner you bumped into, isn’t it? ( Name ), right?” 

Diluc lets out a sigh, already knowing where this is going. “Yes, it’s them.” 

“Ohoho, now I’m curious to know more about them. You better introduce me to that friend of yours when I visit there.” 

His eyebrows raised up in surprise. “You’ll visit here today?”

“Yeah, I’ll be able to come to the hotel today to congratulate the couple. Don’t keep your new friend away from me when I get there, yeah?” 

Diluc scoffs. “As if they would want to be involved with someone like you.” 

“You wounded me! Who wouldn’t want to be involved with the person who grandmothers consider as the top candidate for grandson-in-law?” 

“Whatever you say. Don’t try to get lost in the streets.” 

“Ugh, that was only one time – and in my defense, I was drunk. See you there, Diluc.” 

And just like that, the call ended. 

Diluc puts his phone down with a sigh. He prays that Kaeya actually does get lost and won’t be able to see you. Only Barbatos knows what that man is going to do if he ever finds out about his feelings for you. 

Unfortunately, that was today’s least of his concerns. 

He can’t help but notice how a few Fatui members have been around the hotel lately. Usually he ignores them if it weren’t for how.. often he sees them today. Is it perhaps related to a certain higher up who wants to buy the hotel? 

Or.. is it related to a scheme he has yet to know about?

He thinks about it deeply to the point where he even spaced out a bit while talking to you in the garden as you wait for your friend.

He eventually finds out what the Fatui were up to when he decided to contact one of his associates in the underground network. 

“The people you’ve been seeing are under the security branch of the Fatui, so it’s evident that someone must’ve hired them for something they’re planning to do that needs to be under wraps. We’ll let you know if we happen to find out who’s their employer and whether or not you should intervene.” His informant tells him through the phone as Diluc continues to stand around the lobby waiting for Kaeya, eyeing on the Fatui guards carefully from afar. 

He didn’t have to wait for long on who’s the employer of the Fatui guards.

As soon as he kept his phone away after the phone call, he noticed the father of the bride walking around the lobby with a couple of the Fatui following him. He raises an eyebrow at the sight of the guards walking in a certain formation as though they’re surrounding someone–

Only for his heart to drop when he sees you among said guards.

What are they doing with you?

He then remembers how Shinsuke was glaring at you at the wedding ceremony back then, causing him to conclude that it must’ve been related to whatever’s going on with you and Ayato. 

He didn’t hesitate to start following them in hopes of getting you out of there safely, only to lose sight of you when a lot of people suddenly entered the lobby.

He quietly curses at himself in irritation as he tries to walk through the busy crowd, hoping that he’ll still be able to see you once he’s out of there. 

When he doesn't see you, he feels like he’s about to burn this place down. 

Please be alright, he thinks as he runs around the lobby like a madman, looking at every hallway to see a glimpse of you or your captors who seem to have more than just ill intentions towards you. It feels like he’s back in the incident where his father died as he feels the same thing that his younger self felt. Helplessness and fear of losing his loved one.

Fortunately, it was only a matter of time when he spotted the familiar Fatui guards standing in front of a door, holding what appears to be the very same bag that he saw you carrying at the garden earlier. 

He didn’t hesitate to go towards where they were, causing the guards to notice him at last and be alerted. 

“Sir, you’re not allowe–”

“I don’t care.”

As minutes passed, not one single person among the busy crowds in the lobby noticed the unconscious guards around the secluded hallway, with a tall man standing in the middle of the aftermath of his anger. 

As soon as Diluc finishes dealing with the Fatui guards, he immediately grabs your bag before reaching out to the closed room to open it. 

His heart drops at the sight of Shinsuke’s raised hand towards you. 

Hold yourself, he orders to himself, not wanting to throw hands towards the man who was planning to hurt you, who seems to be frightened but relieved to see Diluc. 

He puts on his calm facade. “Was I interrupting something?” 

It wasn’t hard to get Shinsuke out of the room and get you to safety, by the time he did, his heart breaks at the sight of you being all shaken up from whatever the older man did to you before he could arrive. 

This is an example of what will happen if they’re with me, Diluc thought as he tries to comfort you. He knows that even though your situation right now has nothing to do with him, you’ll get more situations like this if you’re with him, making him realize that even if he’s not an engaged man, he knows he still can’t have you. Not when it’s a risk to even be with him. 

He just wishes you to be safe and happy, but it hurts that it’s not something you’ll get from him. 

That’s why when you mentioned the airport, he felt sad from the fact that he won’t be able to see you after a while. By the time this wedding is over, he’ll go back to the same cycle he lived with ever since he came back to Mondstadt. He won’t be able to wonder what’s to come for him tomorrow, what topic you’ll be talking about with him, and he certainly won’t be able to see you at all for only Celestia knows how long. 

He then wondered if you two will ever contact each other after this. As much as it sounds selfish of him, he didn’t want that to happen, not when he feels this content with you. There’s no one who could laugh at the jokes he unintentionally makes, who would tease him enough to make him a bit flustered and smile, who could talk with him about anything for hours on end, 

There’s no one out there who’s like you. 

But he knows that he can’t make you stay, not when you have your own life to live. 

Perhaps… Perhaps things can be different if the world is safer. If his life isn’t as dangerous as it can be thanks to the Fatui, who dared to lay their hands on you for the sake of a greedy man such as Shinsuke.

Maybe… If fate allows so, maybe in the future, when things possibly change for the better, then perhaps you and Diluc could be something more than friends.

It’s just wishful thinking though.

He didn’t hesitate to take the opportunity to come with you to the airport so he could personally bid you farewell. To his relief, you were happy to have him coming with you as well as reaching out to him once you come back home. 

He wishes this week could last forever. 

Hours later, he finds himself staring at the ceiling while lying down on his bed. Meanwhile, Kaeya is on his own bed that’s next to his while applying skincare on his face as he rants on and on about whatever’s going on around the FPD. 

He wonders what could’ve been if his life wasn’t so complicated and dangerous. He wonders what could’ve been if it were you who he gets to call his spouse and the one he gets to consider as his partner and equal. He wonders what could’ve been if he wasn’t such a coward. 

He wonders if you think of him the way he thinks of you. 

.

.

.

You realize that suppressing your feelings is not the way of moving on. 

Love hurts. Thinking of the past hurts. You realize that Diluc is just someone who helped you with your confrontation towards the past you so wanted to forget because of the pain it brings, but he’s not the one who can completely help you heal. 

By the end of the day, it’s you alone who can heal yourself.

You knew that you can’t admit your feelings to Diluc just yet, and you know it’s best this way – after all, you still have to take time focusing on yourself first now that you took a big step from your burdens. 

You just hope that by the time you’re ready to deal with being in a relationship, you wish that person who you’ll be with is Diluc. 

You find yourself lying down on your bed as you scroll through your photo gallery, finally looking back at the memories that you shared with Ayato, with your friends, and with yourself. It’s been so long since you’ve looked at them that you almost forgot some of the moments that made you happy. 

It took a while until you finally decided to call it a night, turning off your phone and placing it on the nightstand next to your bed before trying to sleep.

You hope you’ll be able to see Diluc again and spend time with him one last time. Maybe you two could go eat at Good Hunter’s together, take another stroll around the hotel’s garden and talk about Inazuma’s flowers this time, or even–

Ah, you feel so in love. 

You let out a quiet dreamy sigh with a smile, excited for what’s to come tomorrow. 

Now that you mentioned Inazuma, you couldn’t help but wonder when you’ll be able to visit your homeland again.. 

You close your eyes. Perhaps Ei won’t mind if I request for a transfer someday. 

PENPALS. @scaraslover @saving-for-xiao @dawgimsohot @ragnvdnr @chiruru @aqualesha @renamichii @mrkamisato @shenhesl0ver @serami00 @serenareiss @hiqhkey @emperatris-rinaka @bystander36 @irisxiel @ladycoleigh @034ven @dear-dairiess @owozi8 @hadesaedes @chiro-chiro-kun @hersscherofyatta @mariusvonhangme @yuzuricebun @hoshikistarlette @solaaresque @crowbird @lordbugs @flowersforayato @headintheclouddd @estelwrld @giyusimpsassemble @irethepotatosblog @moonlightaangel @alice0blog @shotosbrainrot @sniffoat @chihawari @mxsomn @kuni-kuzushii @jiminscarmex @mitsukii14 @nejibot @ylimeprive @sachispet @loreleis-world @sn-owo @starforecasts @someonetookmynamelmao @ceylestia @lychme @ymikkos @reallysporadicarcade @melodyyamino @dudufodd @somberrock @yevenly @lemontum @nghing @elychee @astrxlis @denkineptune @franini @sophisticatedleslie @thedivinepriestress @smashsubs @httpmitsuya @bl6o6dy @cottonkendi (come visit this post if you’d like to be tagged!)

PREVIOUS || NEXT || ORIGINAL VERSION

[miso-sopas]

Hi so got any ninjago x reader recs? Ever since reading Wisps, it has affected my brain chemistry and now i crave for more ninjago x reader content but im picky when finding fics, so got any recommendations?

Hello there! I had fun sorting out my bookmarks and history so recommending fics might be a thing in the future?

Just to note, I am not sure how to really curate your taste so most of these are what I essentially enjoyed reading and been a fan of so forgive me if some (or all 😭 no hard feelings though) aren't your thing.

Let's see...

Honestly Wisps is the *best* so far in my opinion! I don't know if this is pure coincidental but I am also hunting for some ninjago fics to feel emotions again lmao! And I tried my best in remembering what I've read or interested in so hope these are all ok for you!

+ Second best in my opinion is the 'Infinity Series' by Joos according to their quotev because at ao3 it's orphaned [ao3; quotev book 1 & book 2 ]

Unfortunately, the author has stopped updating this fic but going back at it was really enjoyable like in the Wisps. The summary according to the first installment 'Infinite Serenity';

"[Name] has died and became reincarnated in a childhood TV show of hers. She is raised as the adopted daughter of Sensei Wu, training as the Master of Infinity. Once the plot of the show really gets going, a being resurfaces from her. They claim to have revived her and can help her unlock the memories from her previous life. Now, [Name] must rely on this being to help protect Ninjago, and discovers how her past connects with her present." TW: Suicide, self harm, child abuse, some gore and swearing (please pay attention to the tags)

Please please heed the trigger warning, I don't remember much from the content but I definitely recall the author tackling those tags in a respectful way. The love interests are Kai, Nya, Jay, Cole, Morro and platonic with Master Wu and her cousin Lloyd Garmadon. Again, second best recommended fic in my opinion.

+ Next one, this is not one series but user Circus4APsycho8 (they have ao3 and tumblr) in my opinion have the best x reader one-shots from the fandom! My all-time favorite work of theirs is 'Secret Someone' [Highschool AU! Lloyd Garmadon x reader]- this one is really sweet ❣️

Here's these links for their ao3 works and their tumblr ninjago masterlist. All simple yet sweet, I love their writing style.

+ The next one is purely Lloyd Garmadon x Female Reader titled 'Butterfly Effect' by samsea at ao3. I think they're still updating and I am a big fan of hero x civilian pairings and just they're cute and in love.

Summary: "If it was up to Y/n L/n, she would read the summer away, lost in history books and adventure novels, finding excitement in their written words. Meeting Lloyd Garmadon changed her plans. Suddenly, Y/n is living a life she'd only read about; summer romances and cotton candy dates. Perhaps this was a new normal she could get used to. But she's been fated - prophesied - to be with the Green Ninja. And where there's a green ninja, trouble usually follows." Warnings: "The butterfly effect has mature themes such as gore, violence, toxic friendships, sexual themes (no smut) and cussing. the butterfly effect is not intended for younger viewers. Trigger warnings will be placed on chapters as they are needed. if you have any questions or issues please contact me."

Again, heed the warnings but the writing and atmosphere overall is really sweet and for some reason all cuddly and sunny. IDK but maybe I am always soft for Lloyd lmao.

+ If you're up to reading only x reader head cannons then I recommend user mouschiwrites here in tumblr. Their requests are closed now but the head cannons they made are cute and entertaining, like I can definitely see this character doing that y'know. Here's their ninjago masterlist

+ Here's some honorable mentions, I believe they deserve some love too!

In the Shadow (Various love interests) by RoseRain at Quotev

Legend of the Lightspirit (Various love interests) by softie at Quotev

Actually, while finishing my school projects I'm also checking out from another user snazzilystoopid's ninjago recommendation. So far, I am enjoying their second recommended which is 'Element of Wishes' by yourfavoritecloud at quotev BUT this one is an Character x OC one so if it's not up to your alley they have few recommendations. Honestly, I am up to anything as long as it entertained my monkey brain.

Sorry for the long post! Hope these works are okay for your taste but the closest fic that gives off the same vibes as Wisps is the Infinite series. And these are all by my own opinions and the fics I remembered catching my eye. I am very much open to other recommendations or shout-outs.

Side note, there's not much Ninjago fics out there that I might let my monkey brain loose and create one myself LOOOL.

Again, thank you for asking ( I feel honored for being asked by this, I'm a fanfic nerd 🤓)

[a-x-s-c-e]

Long time no see :')

I just remembered this account exists and finally logged on for first time in a decade. And possibly to the surprise of no one, I still write fanfiction and it's still SasuHina. Go figure.

Some general updates:

"Differently" - AU, Divorce, Rated M, Cross-Posted on FF and AO3 is updated pretty frequently, maybe too frequently, but I've become kind of obsessed with where it's headed. I just updated today! It's posted on AO3 first but I'm about to upload the newest chapter (9) on FF. Maybe it's because I use AO3 a little more, but the review traction is a lot slower on this. If you happen to like this story or give it a go, feel free to review. :')

"Inevitable Reality" - AU, Rated M, only on FF was last updated September 2023, a whole 8 years later from previous chapter. Don't jump me. :( I'm planning on finishing this story this year, or early next. I re-read it recently (and cringed at my old writing) but somehow didn't hate it as much as I thought I would. I forgot how much I love weirdo Hinata and anxious Sasuke, they're too cute to give up on. I was searching the title of this and found it surprisingly on a few recommendation lists. Thanks to those that read it/still message me about it! I promise to work on it this year. I would offer to re-write and fix, but I am not as motivated to do that. We'll see.

SasuHina Month 2024 - I am considering doing it...we'll see! I want to work on writing in universe - I've been so stuck on AUs because I'm always hesistant to write something incorrect with the series. I'm actually re-reading Naruto (and in deep, nostalgic pain from it) and plan to give Boruto another chance. So, if I participate, I'm hoping to write it entirely in universe as a challenge. Stay tuned!

Finally (and just as a bonus wtf comment)

"You're Welcome" - that one's from 2011 (I was a child when I wrote this) and I will never read it again. I cringe at the thought LOL. I want to delete it but I love reviews and sometimes I read them (even if they're old) for a confidence boost. Idk why some of you read it within the last four years, I know it's not well written and that's just me assuming who I was back then - out of all my other stories, this is simply one I physically cannot re-read without my face scrunching up. Anyway TL;DR I won't delete but I wish I had the guts to. Read my other fics instead LOL

In an effort to avoid spamming the SasuHina Discord, I'll just post chapter updates here. I don't know if I'll post as read-mores whatever linked there, and I haven't really been active on tumblr in forever either, so we'll see. I'll likely prepare a fanfic recommendations post soon but don't be surprised if non-SasuHina fics make the cut - I've expanded the net when I run out of things to read heh.

Thanks for reading!

[starilicious]

mere haath mein (echo x gn!reader)

》 summary: reader and echo's love story from strangers to friends to lovers throughout the clone wars (a 4+1 type of story)

》 series masterlist: (please read the masterlist before continuing on!)

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 4.5.1 | part 4.5.2 | part +1 📍 (you are here!)

click here to read on AO3

》 part +1 word count: ~2.2k

》 part +1 warnings: none

》 part +1 spoilers: none

》 a/n: this is it! thank you to everyone who read this story ^_^ this fic started out purely self-indulgent bc i am an echo girlie at heart, but i hope you all enjoyed reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it. this scene is what inspired me writing all the previous parts and is therefore the longest part (because i still cannot believe people write off the clones like objects instead of people with emotions and hopes and fears :( ) please do let me know your thoughts on this fic and if you could like to see any additional parts in this series! enjoy this last chapter :DD

+१ (+1)

At first, it’s the little things. How sometimes he can’t tear open a meal packet easily, or how he takes longer to put on his armor. How he adjusts his grip on his blaster, or he types up reports slower on his datapad.

Of course, Echo never complains. It’s not in his nature to, especially not while you’re at war, and there are arguably bigger and worse things to worry about.

But you notice anyway.

It takes a month or two for you to realize his struggles. Even though you officially transferred to Clone Force 99, you still mainly work with the 501st and other legions thanks to Tech’s precise expertise. His knowledge combined with his training as a soldier and experience in the field meant you rarely accompanied them on missions. So you put your skills to work elsewhere, not wanting to remain idle.

You would come back to the Kamino barracks you shared with the boys only a few days a week at most. Long trips just to get back to the squad wasn’t exactly a good use of the Republic’s dwindling resources, so you make do with the time you have.

It’s not until you request to have your office transferred to Kamino do you observe Echo’s constant conflict with being one-handed. The extra time on your hands allows you to be with Clone Force 99 more often, giving you time to get to know them and how they work together.

Echo is so incredibly subtle about his pain, his exhaustion, and the numerous issues with his scomp link that it’s really only because of your engineering training that you detect the problem. At this point, your mind unconsciously latches onto anything that you perceive as a potential source of trouble. You’ve practically hardwired your brain to find anything and everything that could be a complication, no matter how small.

And you would be damned if you couldn’t fix this one.

So you shove all your impending datapad reports aside and pull up your CAD software and, with a little hacking, Echo’s medical records on your monitors. (You doubt any of the higher-ups will care anyway). You crack open your old notes from university, poring over them and Echo’s reports, scrutinizing every detail and writing down notes in your precious engineering notebook.

Frankly, you are livid over the fact that the Kaminoans or the Republic didn't give Echo a prosthetic to make his life easier. He's an ARC trooper for Maker's sake, constantly going on missions deemed too dangerous for any regular clone. Doesn't that warrant at least a little respect?

You don't dignify that question with a response, already knowing the answer to it. It pisses you off how little they care, how clones are viewed as expendable, how they're nothing more than sentient droids. Even someone at as high of a rank as Echo is still written off even though he has sacrificed everything for the Republic.

For the next week or so, you work in earnest, staying up late nights and waking up at early hours to continue working as you regain the knowledge you temporarily lost while working as an astroengineer. As cool as starships are, nothing can compare to the satisfaction of completing a project that changes someone’s life–it’s why you wanted to be a biomedical engineer in the first place.

Not to mention your constant rage acting as fuel to keep going with the project and refuse to stop.

You build prototype after prototype, constantly adjusting and readjusting your designs, scrapping ideas and thinking of new ones. It’s an arduous process, especially for a challenge you have never faced before, but you put in everything you have to give because this is for Echo.

And Echo is worth it.

You meticulously note down every flaw and success, wanting to have something to look back on for future iterations--after all, there are always more ways to improve.

There are times where Echo is close to figuring out your surprise for him, often walking in while you're mentally elbow deep in your designs, the exploded-view of the parts up on your monitor as you solder together the 3D-printed parts. You luckily throw a cover over the prototype and switch to a different project right before he sees. He glances at you in surprise, but decides not to push, much to your relief.

The worst (and, arguably, best) part is when Echo worries about you, concerned about your lack of sleep and how you practically live in your office makerspace. You come into the barracks long after Echo is asleep and leave long before he's awake. And there are nights where you just don't come in at all, often having too much work to finish because of how much time and effort your job demands of you. Echo does what he can, dropping off meals whenever he's able and cushioning your head with a pillow whenever you fall asleep in your chair. He hates that it isn't enough.

Every time he asks, you deflect his questions and his concern, choosing to inquire about his most recent mission or how his kinship with the Bad Batch is coming along. He reluctantly answers you as he watches you multitask, eagerly listening to him while you repair another starship in the main garage.

But finally, Echo has had enough.

He barges into your office in the middle of the night as soon as he gets back to Kamino after a particularly long mission, heavy footsteps startling you as you scramble to cover the prosthetic.

Echo seethes out your full name, hand curled into a fist as he points at you with his scomp link, and you know you're in deep shit now.

"That's it. I’m going to bed right now and I am taking you with me,” he declares, anger and exhaustion dripping from every word.

“But–”

“No buts! For the past month, I’ve been patient. I do my best to support you and ask you what you need and you can barely even give me the time of day!” Echo exclaims, exasperated. You bite the inside of your cheek, the guilt beginning to weed into your heart as he continues.

“Every time I ask you what’s going on, what’s keeping you here, you just shrug me off and answer with a question of your own,” Echo scoffs, throwing his arms up. “And forget me, what about you? You don’t sleep, you barely eat–when was the last time you did your own damn laundry?”

Your body curls into itself, head hanging down. You can’t meet his eyes, ashamed of how you were so caught up in making his life better that you inadvertently made it worse.

The fight bleeds out of Echo as fast as it entered and he lets out a resigned sigh, posture slackening as he stands in front of you. He lifts your chin up to meet his gaze. The swirl of distress and disquiet is rampant, as clear as the dark shadows under his eyes.

“Just tell me what’s going on,” Echo pleads, the statement coming out as a whisper. You swallow the lump in your throat as you nod. You didn’t want to give it to him today, preferring to wrap it up and hand it to him after he’s well-rested, but at this point, you feel as if you have no choice.

You reach over the durasteel table and uncover the prosthetic hand in a flourish. Echo chokes on air in shock as he stares, frozen and rooted to the ground. You gently pick up your prototype and hold it out to him.

“This is what’s going on,” you reveal, the apology laced in between your words.

Echo is silent as he takes it from your hands, examining the prosthetic in awe before looking at you, tears in his eyes. You smile at him, your face mirroring his own as they begin to fall.

“I-I don’t even know what to say–”

“A thank you will be enough,” you tease lightheartedly, and he laughs in spite of himself, voice caught in his throat as he begins to cry.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, pulling you into a bone-crushing hug that you eagerly return. When he lets go, you begin explaining yourself and the prototype.

“I noticed you were having difficulty doing stuff now that you’re one-handed and I wanted to do something about it since clearly no one else cared,” you frown at the last part, your fury seeping through your words. “This is what I’ve been working on. It’s painful enough trying to have a body readjust to the regular world, but you have it worse because we’re in the midst of a galactic war. So I decided to do my best to make it a little easier for you.”

You sigh as you watch him admire the prosthetic, turning it over in his hand as he listens to you. Your fingers tap lightly against your work table. “When you put it on, it accommodates the scomp link and hides it within, making it look just like a regular hand.”

“I thought you were an astroengineer?” Echo cuts in, confusion written plainly on face as he glances at you.

You chuckle in response to his hidden question. “Technically, I’m not. I’m a biomedical engineer by training. I learned astroengineering on the fly for the GAR,” you smile fondly as Echo blinks in surprise before rolling his eyes at your awful pun. He smiles.

You continue then, demonstrating the hand for him, pulling the prototype out of his grip and gently latching it onto the mechanical part. “I put in a kind of cloaking technology too.”

You tap the interface on the inner wrist and the metal fades away to the exact color of his brown skin. Echo gasps in surprise as he flexes his muscles, the hand smoothly curling into a fist.

“This way, it literally looks and acts like a normal hand and you can go on more covert missions,” you say proudly as you watch him play with it. This feature was the hardest part of making the prosthetic. Converting neural impulses into something a machine could not only understand but actually translate into action that didn’t look clanky and awkward was probably the most frustrating challenge you have ever faced.

You tap the interface again and it fades back to metal. “Inside each finger is a tool you can use out in the field,” you continue, having each finger retract to show knives, cutters, and even a poison vial.

“And lastly…” you make the fingers reverse their action and then retract the entire hand, revealing the scomp. “If you want to use the scomp link, you can do so without having to take the entire hand off!”

Echo stares at the scomp link uncomprehendingly. He’s doing that a lot. Echo doesn’t say anything, hesitantly touching the prosthetic with his flesh hand.

“Right–uh, well, this is only the first prototype, so there are still a lot of problems with it. I have to run a debugger through the code again and make sure the cloaking tech holds up in the field since planet environments can really impact the way everything works. There are a bunch of tests I need to–”

“I love you.”

You stop abruptly, mind short-circuiting as you glance up at Echo in surprise, clearly not expecting such a phrase to cut off your anxious ramble.

“I–what?” you ask rather eloquently. You mentally facepalm. Nice going.

“I love you,” Echo whispers into the space between you, a shared breath holding the weight of the phrase in the charged air. You search his eyes in question–does he mean it? You find your answer amidst the sparkling galaxies and twinkling stars in his warm gaze and you breathe in his confession before exhaling your own.

“I love you too, Echo.”

The smile that breaks out on his face is unrivaled. He scoops you up in his arms, much to your surprise, and spins you around, a laugh bubbling out of you both when your foot hits your chair.

Echo sets you down ever so gently, mellow kindness permeating his every action as he leans in. “Can I kiss you?”

Your heart melts at the patient question because of course he can. Echo is so careful about never pushing boundaries, constantly taking the time to make sure you’re comfortable. And so, you answer him with a nod and shift your face to meet his lips.

It’s chaste and slightly awkward–Echo doesn’t know where to put his hands, instead hovering over your waist, and your nose bumps into his when you move. You both let out a quiet laugh of peace as you rest your head over his heart, his arms engulfing you in a hug. The cool, white lights of your makerspace shine down on you both as you breathe in the light sandalwood incense you light when you work. Rain patters the window gently and you sigh, listening to Echo’s calming heartbeat.

“Let’s go to sleep, cyar'ika.”

---

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 4.5.1 | part 4.5.2 | part +1 📍 (you are here!)

please consider reblogging! it really helps me and is super encouraging ^_^

[badbatchposts]

Quiet Corners of the Galaxy, Ch. 21

Fic Teaser: While on a routine mission for Cid, the Bad Batch encounter a woman fleeing from the Empire. Crosshair suspects her seemingly free-spirited, nomadic existence is actually a cover for something else, but struggles to keep his attraction toward her in check as their personalities and ideals clash.

Relevant tags/content warnings: Crosshair/Original Female Character, Slow Burn, Enemies to Lovers, Periodic Smut, Canon-Typical Violence, Alcohol Use

Read the full fic so far on AO3

Read previous chapters on Tumblr: Ch. 1 l Ch. 2 l Ch. 3 l Ch. 4 l Ch. 5 l Ch. 6 l Ch. 7 l Ch. 8 l Ch. 9 l Ch. 10 l Ch. 11 l Ch. 12 l Ch. 13 l Ch. 14 l Ch. 15 l Ch. 16 l Ch. 17 l Ch. 18 l Ch. 19 l Ch. 20

Chapter 21 summary: Omega encounters a stranger on Rex's base, and the clones get some answers.

Omega was finally content again.

Sure, she loved being on Pabu, and—for the first time ever—had even chosen to stay behind while her brothers went on a job for Cid. It had disappointed her when Hunter holoed to say that they would have to be away a while longer, but still, she was doing fine, enjoying her time with her friends, keeping up with her training.

But when they called and said they still wouldn’t be coming back for her—and that they were even planning on going to Rex’s base without her, which was unfathomable—she decided she had had enough.

Her brothers really underestimated her sometimes. Yes, she was a kid, and she was still learning. But it hadn’t been hard at all to make it here on her own.

Of course, they weren’t too happy about how she’d done it.

But even then, Rex could always use a new ship, and hers—yes, hers, she’d won it fair and square, but she was happy to loan it to the Captain, since she already had the Marauder—was a beauty. That pirate captain had even been rather nice, he was funny. But terrible at sabacc. Even when he was cheating.

Hunter and Echo had given her a scolding when they arrived, which was undermined almost immediately by Wrecker and Tech’s eagerness to hear the story and all of their happiness at finally being together again. And now she was excitedly exploring the base while the others spoke worriedly with Rex. She would find out what was going on later, whatever it was that had kept Crosshair back at the Marauder. Sometimes Hunter liked to protect her from the things they were concerned over, but she knew they would eventually tell her all about it. They would need her advice, after all.

But until then, she had plenty of time for enthusiastically running across the bridges that linked the base’s many interconnected, covered platforms, gazing into the shallow water of the grassy wetlands below and spotting the brightly colored flying fish that alternated between diving beneath the surface and flapping through the air. Omega slowed as she crossed one bridge and approached an open-sided platform hosting a brightly lit communications array at the center, where a silver-haired woman was tapping away.

“You’re not a clone,” Omega observed. She had never seen a non-clone working with Rex and the others outside of Senator Chuchi and her guards on Coruscant. “What are you doing?”

The woman glanced up. She looked the young girl over for a moment before turning back to her work calmly.

“You must be Omega,” the woman replied.

“Yes. What’s your name?” Omega asked.

“Dara.” The woman wasn’t very chatty, but not in an altogether unfriendly way. She just seemed focused on what she was doing, like Tech at his datapad.

“Hello, Dara. So, what are you doing?” Omega repeated brightly.

“Sending a message.”

Omega scrunched her nose a little at the succinct reply. Maybe it was less that this woman was focused like Tech, and more that she was quiet and solitary like Crosshair. The young girl peered over Dara’s shoulder curiously, trying to make out what she was up to for herself.  

“But you’re not saying anything,” she pointed out.

Dara looked up again, raising an eyebrow at Omega with amusement. Tenacious thing, isn’t she, she thought.

“Not exactly,” she explained as she continued to work. “Instead of sending text or words, I’m sending sounds over the line. They’ll just seem like interference so no one will be able to tell it’s a message if it’s intercepted.”

Omega was instantly fascinated. “Ohhhh. Well, how does the person you’re sending it to understand it?”

“The combinations of sounds all stand for something. They know the key, so they can decode it.” Dara finished sending her message. She crossed her arms and leaned back on the array, turning her full attention to Omega, who looked calculating.

“What if the wrong person figures out the pattern?” Not just tenacious, the kid was smart, too, thinking through all the possibilities. Dara was impressed, and happy enough now to satisfy Omega’s interest. She was in no rush.

“It won’t matter. The message is in a language that very few other people understand anymore.” Dara, in fact, had known one of the only recognized experts in the galaxy on this ancient language. He was dead now.

“But…what if someone identifies it?” Omega countered. It was like a game for the girl, considering all the contingencies. It reminded Dara of herself. She wished that it didn’t.

Dara smiled, a little sadly. “It still won’t matter. The content is coded too. The message seems like something normal. It might say that I’m excited because I’m going on a trip soon. But the person I’m contacting will know that means something different. Like, I won’t be able to make a rendezvous.”

Omega was suitably impressed. “Wow. That’s pretty cool. And complicated.”

The woman nodded knowingly. “The more layers the harder it is to crack, and the more likely it’ll be overlooked by the Empire.”

“Neat!”

“Indeed. That is quite clever. Unfortunately, your unauthorized access of our communications system did trigger an alert.” Tech was approaching from one end of the platform, pistols drawn. Dara didn’t have to look around to know that Wrecker and Hunter would be similarly cutting off her access to the other bridges. But then, she wasn’t interested in escaping—not before she had the chance to chat with Rex. If she had been, she would be long gone already.

Sure enough, Dara heard the Sergeant’s gravelly voice coming from behind her. “Omega. Get away from her. Now,” Hunter barked.

Omega looked back and forth from Dara to Hunter, the confusion on her face quickly turning to suspicion. The woman gestured with her chin. “Go on, kid. Go to your—dads? Brothers? Honestly, I still haven’t worked out whatever this is.”

The girl backed away quickly towards Wrecker, who had advanced from a third direction. He moved to position his sister behind him, putting his body between her and Dara.

“What’s going on?” Omega demanded.

“She’s been spying on us,” Hunter replied darkly. “That’s why we were gone longer than we expected. We thought it was too risky for her to find out about you. And we were right.”

Dara snickered. “I’m a risk? Do you even have any idea how many innocent people Crosshair has killed?”

Tech frowned. “Dara, where is Crosshair? What did you do?”

“Less than he deserved.” Dara’s eyes were glinting, but they softened when she noticed Omega peer with distress around Wrecker. She sighed and shook her head. With one hand held out in front of her, she unholstered her blaster slowly and let it clatter to the floor a few feet away. “He’s fine. Go ahead, I know when I’m beat.”

Dara held her wrists out in front of her and allowed Hunter to clamp binders around them yet again. Omega was still examining her curiously as they led her away.

***

Crosshair had a splitting headache. He supposed he should be grateful that Dara had only stunned him, rather than cutting his throat, but it was a small consolation. A slightly bigger consolation was the fact that at least she hadn’t escaped. When he awoke to Tech’s concerned expression as his brother held a medical scanner irritatingly close to his face, he had been certain that Dara was long gone, and was surprised to learn that they had intercepted her so easily. He could only speculate as to why.

Now he was watching from a perch atop a pile of crates in the corner as Rex prepared to question her, worrying a toothpick and scowling at anyone that looked at him. Scowling at anyone, that is, except for Omega, who scrambled up the crates to take a seat next to him before Rex got started.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

“Terrible,” he griped.

She grinned and gave him an affectionate pat on the arm. “Mad that she got the drop on you?” she replied knowingly.

The sniper grumbled. In fact, he was mad—at himself, for underestimating Dara. After all that time suspecting her, he’d almost let himself believe he was wrong. And then, seeing her in the cargo hold, hands bound behind her back and looking up at him with fury etched into every line of her face—he’d let himself get distracted by how badly he still wanted her anyway. Even as she looked back at him with every bit of the disgust that he deserved.

But he couldn’t tell Omega that. Instead, he ignored her teasing and changed the subject. “Heard you got up to some fun without us, kid.”

Omega rolled her eyes. “I already got a lecture.”

“You won’t hear one from me. I know you’re the most capable member of the squad.” Crosshair mussed up her hair, earning an even bigger grin. He had missed her.

Omega furrowed her brow thoughtfully, gazing at Dara, who was leaning back in her chair and had her feet up on the table as Rex approached, her nonchalance and familiarity belying the seriousness of the situation. After so long observing her expressions and characteristics while she was undercover, Crosshair was now struggling to read her; she was still controlled, but somehow harsher, more commanding, her every move more transparently calculated. If they had known Dara the free-spirited nomad, this was now Dara the rebel spy—and though this version was closer to the truth, the Dara he had been seeking to draw out still seemed to lay buried beneath who knows how many layers.

As he watched, she directed a quick wink to Howzer, shrugging, unbothered, when the reg scowled back. Gregor, however, who was seated next to Howzer, sent his own cheeky wink back, making Dara smirk with amusement. Crosshair clenched his fists.

“So, what’s going on with her?” Omega asked. “Echo said she’s not with the Empire, so why was she spying on the squad?”

Crosshair frowned. “We rescued her from Imperials. She was using us to hide out from them and reporting back on us to her rebel faction.”

“Huh.”

Omega looked like she was going to say more, but the sniper was grateful to be saved from further questions by the beginning of Rex’s interrogation, which they both leaned forward eagerly to see. The rest of the Batch were seated elsewhere around the platform, similarly interested in hearing what Rex came up with in the face of Dara’s usual restraint.

The Captain seated himself across the table from Dara and nodded in greeting. “Hello again, Keranji.”

Dara smiled crookedly. “Thought maybe you’d forgotten me, Captain. But I don’t go by that name anymore.”

No wonder Tech hadn’t found anything about her; she’d changed identities since the Clone Wars. Crosshair could see his brother tapping furiously at his datapad, no doubt already using the new information to search for more background.

Rex smiled back. “Dara, then. Your hair used to be darker.”

“I used to be younger.” Dara cracked her neck and rolled her shoulders, as if to suggest that she could feel the tension of the years building up bodily. Maybe she could.

“We all did,” Rex acknowledged. “Still, I don’t usually forget a face.”

“I used to laugh more too.”

She seemed weary. It was strange to look at her now, when only a few rotations earlier she would have made every effort to disguise that bone-deep exhaustion. Crosshair tried to imagine her as a hopeful, fresh-faced insurgent learning from Rex and the Jedi how to fight back against the Separatists that had taken over her planet. It was a difficult image to conjure up. Instead, all he could think of was her grief from the night of the bar fight—the devastation that made it look like she might shatter at any moment.

That night, had she been thinking of her friend—the one he’d killed? No—he remembered what day that was on the standard calendar, and that wasn’t the anniversary. She must have been thinking of another dead friend. Another one of many, a number he had only added to.

“We all did,” Rex agreed with her softly. The Captain paused a moment, let them sit with their shared loss, before he continued. “Still palling around with Saw, then?”

Dara shrugged. “Took a bit of a sabbatical after we liberated Onderon, but couldn’t stay away I guess.”

“Not tired of fighting?”

The rebel slowly removed her feet from the table, planted her boots firmly on the floor, and leveled a steady gaze at him. “All of us are tired. Hasn’t stopped us yet, has it?”

Rex chuckled. “I guess not.” Crosshair began to get the sense that this was no longer an interrogation—if it ever had been. It was a negotiation. “I have to say,” the Captain continued, “I wish you would’ve reached out directly instead of spying on us.”

Dara, hands still clasped in binders, drummed her fingers against the table thoughtfully. “I’m sure you understand the need for caution. Trust isn’t a currency I trade in much these days. I thought it was too risky until I knew more. I apologize.”

Crosshair raised an eyebrow. She had wanted to trust them, to forge an alliance, but Saw had ordered her not to. She made no move to clarify further, and he quickly realized that she wouldn’t. Dara had said “I,” not “we.” She was owning the decision, like it had been her decision all along.

Rex tilted his head, considering her words. The Captain had heard the audio recording of Dara’s call with Saw—Tech had passed it along while they were still in hyperspace. Crosshair wondered what Rex would make of the discrepancy.

He would probably think it showed loyalty.

“Before we caught you, you got a message out to Saw. Should we expect him here soon?” Rex inquired slowly.

Dara pursed her lips. “No. You’re stuck with me.”

“Why is that?” he pressed.

“Against protocol to attempt a rescue.”

“Ah.” Rex stood, radiating an easy authority from his perfect military posture. “Well, I would like him to come. I understand you don’t trust us. And I understand why. But it’s clear that we’re working on parallel missions, and we’re willing to extend our own trust. Enough to have him and a few of your people on base, and to see if we can work towards some sort of cooperation.”

Dara regarded him seriously, then glanced around at the other members of the Batch watching the conversation, although she studiously avoided looking at Crosshair’s corner. “I may be able to arrange that.”

“Come on, then.” Rex removed her binders and led her to a holoprojector nearby. Stretching and rubbing her wrists a little, Dara entered the information to call Gerrera.

When Gerrera’s image popped up, his arms were crossed, and his gaze was smoldering. “Rex. It’s good to see you’re alive. I trust you’re treating Dara well.”

The Captain nodded. “Nice to see you, too, Saw. I wish the circumstances were better, but Dara and I have come to something of an agreement.”

“Uh-huh.” Gerrera still looked severe, and he was eyeing Dara closely, as though checking that she was uninjured. “I hope the terms of that agreement don’t involve holding my head of intelligence hostage.”

Now that was some useful information. Crosshair thought he could see Dara grinding her teeth. If he’d learned anything about her at all, he was willing to bet that she had hoped she could keep them thinking she was nothing more than an everyday operative, still holding back information even as they took a step toward trust. Paranoid, indeed.

A lesser man than Rex would have rolled his eyes at Gerrera’s accusation, but the Captain only stiffened a little. “Dara is free to go whenever she likes. What we want is to invite you here, to see if we can find a way to collaborate,” he countered.

Dara spoke up, not giving Saw the chance to reject the idea outright again. “I think it would be a mutually beneficial arrangement. Both our groups could do with some intelligence sharing and joint strategizing, and—if Rex’s people are willing—I’d like to learn from some of their tactics and receive training for a few of my specialists. Their encryption skills in particular far surpass our own capabilities. By working together and sharing information like that, we can all get stronger.”

This seemed to convince the rebel leader. Where he had been unwilling to consider Dara’s arguments before, he now had to acknowledge that the ruse was over. Their only options left were to cooperate or to walk away. Hesitating only a little—though looking no less intense—Gerrera accepted the proposal.

“Okay. We can talk about it. But it’s going to be at least ten rotations before I can make it.”

Dara nodded. “I’d like to discuss with Rex the possibility of conducting a small, joint operation before then. Something to demonstrate the potential of the alliance.”

“I’m sure we can find something,” Rex agreed.

“Good. Dara, keep me up to speed. Rex, I’m looking forward to seeing you in person again. It’s been a long time.” Gerrera’s holoprojection blinked out.

Rex visibly relaxed, clapping Dara on the shoulder. “Well done. I think he’s well on his way to being convinced. Much more amenable to it than during your earlier call.”

Dara shook her head, equal parts annoyed and amused. “ I should’ve known better than to talk to him directly. It only takes one time being sloppy to get caught.”

“That was him being amenable?” Echo murmured.

Dara turned and grinned at him, a real, toothy, un-curated smile that broke through her barriers. This was what she actually looked like, Crosshair realized, when she was happy. When her guard was down for a moment.

She shrugged. “You should see what he’s like usually.”

Tag list: @stardusthuntress @skellymom @megmegalodondon @somewhere-on-kamino @morerandombullshit @zahmaddog

Thanks again to @cloneflo99 for the amazing banner!!!

Author's note: SMUT IS FINALLY COMING NEXT CHAPTER! Which should be posted next week!

Next chapter

[drinkpisser]

MY HESITANT ALIEN FIC, "HOW IT CAME TO BE" CHAPTER 2 ANDDD 3 IS FINALLY READY TO SEE THE LIGHT OF DAY!

thank you for waiting guys!! ^0^ took a little longer than the first chapter but hopefully it's still okay and whoever reads enjoys <3

PREVIOUS CHAPTER LINK:

(click Keep Reading to begin!)

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CHAPTER 2: PINKISH

"This dream is calling your name."

A few months had passed by since Gerard's first day at the camp. Each morning, before everyone else awoke, he would cycle the narrow pathways of the woods to clear his mind- it wasn't something he ever did back home and most would find it rather unusual.

When Ray asked him about it, he shrugged.

Truthfully, ever since the encounter with the extraterrestrial, Gerard had not been the same. Ambiguous figures would slither past the corners of his eyes, he'd stare into the stars of the night sky with an unwarrented anticipation, not even sure himself what he was looking for, and all he could seem to sketch and doodle were variants of the mothership.

This is the one, he'd think, before ripping up the paper and restarting.

On this particular morning, he impulsively turned a different direction to take in new scenery because he found repetitiveness tiring. Of course, taking an unknown direction typically leads to some dilemma in most cases, yet that didn't seem to phase Gerard in the slightest, thinking unrealistically and all.

Swerving his balance slightly, a sudden fatigue dawned on him. He found it best to take a seat on a nearby stump, surrounded by branches leaning towards him. After regaining his senses, he observed that this neck of the woods appeared rather strange, the saturation of everything enhanced almost to a neon- trees twist and turn dangling fluorescent leaves, flowers spit shades of the rainbow and the dystopian clouds above swirl as they glide across the cyan sky. He could have sworn it looked like any old mundane part of the site before he sat down! He scrunched his nose in confusion, before then reaching out for his bike.

Just as he grabbed the handlebars, a distant, soft "Thud!" sent the pigeons flying in a scare.

Inflicted with paranoia, Gerard freezes. The only action he could resort to was a short and sweet use of speech, which is no good defence against a potentially malicious opposition.

"Is- is someone there?" he mutters.

Nothing, only a skitter within the bushes.

"SomeTHING... Maybe?" He slowly creeps closer, making sure to scan his surroundings as he leans forward. Using both of his hands, he separates the bushes in which the wriggling was heard, trying his best to ignore the nettles that pierced his palms in the process.

...

What on earth?

A toddler sized ball of pinkish fuzz sits bewildered, as though it may have hit it's head through the fall from each branch above. The fuzz on it's face is white, it's eyelids a pastel blue; upon seeing Gerard a curved grin forms on its face.

Instinctively, he backed away. As he did, the creature reached forwards with grabby paws. Tilting his head, Gerard shuffled a few steps closer.

It squeaks, scurrying away!

"Oh, crap!-" he cries, and once again, he is running a little faster, like an idiot. If Gerard was a cat, curiosity would have definitely killed him by now. Nine times. Eventually, the pair end up at an oddly placed flight of stairs, it's lengthy.

"I don't remember this being here.." Gerard scratches his head in confusion, looking down at the small alien for an answer. It begins to crawl up each step.

"I suppose actions speak louder than words, huh." Once again, he follows.

Gerard looks up, doing a harsh double take. He saw the very vehicle that gave him that fright so many weeks ago- he's being led into the mothership! How in God's name did he allow himself to be sabotaged by such a freaky animal, without even judging where it could take him?! He turns back. No, absolutely not, he cannot do this again-

Oh, Jesus Christ.

The most grotesquely unsettling, inhumane guards block Gerard's exit, ushering him with oblong sniper guns. Their skulls are stretched by their oversized brains, the six eyes on each side of their wrinkly faces staring deadpan into Gerard's soul. Taking a deep breath for his own sanity, he turns a stiff and full 180 back around, each guard standing beside him.

One anomalous move and he's toast. He keeps going, shuffling inside of the entryway. Those things could probably sense the fear within him from a mile away, there was no benefit in hiding it.

They make their ways through hallowed metallic halls, dashed with blinding lights on each wall, heavily supplied with martian soldiers. Each instance where Gerard looked around and gulped in awe, his neck was nudged back in the forwards direction like the hostage he was.

"Damn, sorry. This just reminds me of Star Wars. It's neat." he adds, nodding.

Over time, Gerard progresses in apathy. Each hall began to look the same. Each monument or picture framed on the wall became old news. Bored. So bored that even starting a fist fight with his captors would exhaust him to an extreme extent. Although, realistically, with sting plastered palms it would be more painful for him than his opponent.

Without warning, the fuzzy alien leading the way comes to a halt, pointing at a circular door... The cockpit? What was it doing leading Gerard there?

The tightly sealed door is accompanied with a turn of a wheel keeping it together. As it cracks open, Gerard realises that this is no ordinary cockpit, it was a spacious control room. What amazed even further was the cosmical view of outer space ahead of him in wide, circular windows.

It looked exactly like the dreams he had prophecised since he was small; to watch as the earth grows smaller in size and float behind him, to see the ashes of the milky way beyond a printed photograph, to cross lands even he wouldn't have thought existed. Most of all, what he really yearned to do, was to take passion past human domain. He wanted to preform, create precious art- If more than one intellectual species exists in our entire sense of being, they deserve to feel the phemomena of music.

He staggers forward in awe, unable to deflect his eyes from the view beholding him. The stars shift in formation, constellations bonding together. They attempt to fabricate letters in a language that Gerard doesn't quite understand.

He turns to the guards behind him, who drop their weapons in fascination.

The large screen above the entryway begins to decode, displaying a message in green digital letters:

"This dream is calling your name."

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CHAPTER 2.5: BROTHER

Days have passed by.

In the eyes of everyone else, Gerard had vanished. Due to the emergency situation of a missing camp student, friends of his were scouted to different parts of the forest and local areas to place posters.

Ray and a newcomer called Frank were assigned the nearby town, as an opportunity for him to get to know the area better. Unfortunately, Ray was not his chirpiest self on this day. It's hard to be when your best friend is gone, but he still tried his best to be welcoming.

Frank himself was a spiky looking fella, his hair clearly damaged from all of its bleaching and dying. For the moment, it was a bright red- although, Ray had a feeling it would change soon. He had a few tattoos despite not being the legal age for them, some looked like stick 'n' pokes. His eyes reminded Ray of an excited puppy, observing all of the new surroundings and he was noticeably shorter than a lot of the boys he'd met at the campus so far. Frank looked slightly younger than him, perhaps by a year.

"What brings you here, then?" Ray asks, whilst putting up his last poster.

"Parents. They're tired of me slacking off and playing Mario Kart." Frank replies unseriously.

"Right, that's relatable," he sighs, "You wanna grab a bite in the cafe whilst we're here? I could do with a distraction."

Frank nods.

As they head into the cafe, the smell of freshly baked cookies fill their lungs, it's incredibly appetising.

"Hey, uh- I'll pay for 'em." Frank smiles briefly, "I know this probably isn't the best day ever for you."

Ray's eyes light up, taken aback by the offer.

"You're sure? I don't mean to be annoying-"

By the time Ray finished his sentence, half a batch had been purchased by a ravenous Frank.

"Here, enjoy!" he smiles, tossing Ray a couple of cookies and munching away on his own.

"Thank you," he also takes a bite, "I did really need this, to be honest."

"You needed a cookie that bad?" Frank smirks, smugly.

"Yeah but, I mean, just- company. A friend. It's been lonely without Gerard. I don't even know where he could have gone other than somewhere definitely unrealistic." Ray comments, challenged.

"Ah, sorry about that. Hopefully he just wanted out for a few days." Frank adds, overlooking the "unrealistic" part of Ray's sentence.

"He'd have taken me out with him, we go everywhere together," Ray stresses, "something happened, dammit!" he exclaims.

"Woah dude-" Frank puts an arm around his shoulder.

"Calm down, I didn't mean to upsetchya- he's gotta be fine. From the description of him on the posters, he seems to avoid trouble."

Ray sighs once again.

"Sorry, I'm sorry. It's almost been a week of him dissapearing without notice, I've barely slept." Ray apologetically rambles.

Frank pats his back and the two get back to their feast of cookies, awkwardly conversating along the way.

Meanwhile, back at campus, the head girl has a relatively difficult phone call to make. She dials Gerard's home number, hesitantly awaiting a response.

To her surprise, a voice too adolescent to be a parental figure answers.

"Hello? Who is this?" the young boy enquires.

"This is Gerard's summer camp, who am I speaking to?" she responds.

"Umm.. I'm his younger brother, Mikey. My parents are out right now- did he do something dumb?" he snickers, the grin audible from across the line.

"Not necessarily. I just need you to call us back when your parents are back home-"

"Tell me!" he puts on a serious voice, unsuccessfully disguising a chuckle.

The head girl takes a dread induced breath.

"Your brother is still ... missing. We learnt he was last spotted by a volunteer in the woods five days ago, who commented that his behaviour was weird."

Radio silence hit the line.

"Is everything okay? Are you able to tell your parents about this?" she asks.

"Uh.. what- what am I supposed to do now? Just sit here?" Mikey stumbles on his words.

"Unfortunately so until we can give any further updates. We need you to notify your parents, because it isn't looking too good- sorry you had to find out this way."

Mikey holds the phone with a slight shake, his eyes welling up. He'd do anything for his older brother, to protect him, just as Gerard would. Yet here he is, powerless on a phoneline on the one occasion that the role reversed. He felt bottom of the barrel hopeless, like a half of him had just vanished completely.

"I'm um- I'm gonna go now. Bye." Mikey shoves the words out of his mouth quickly and to avoid an outburst of tears, he hangs up.

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CHAPTER 3: ARE WE RUNNING HOME, OR RUNNING FREE TODAY?

"This dream is calling your name."

Gerard is perplexed at the message on the screen. Where's the catch? Sure, experiencing this is admirable, but what if it's a trap? And what the everloving fuck is he doing on a spaceship to begin with?

A shadow emerges from the light, so bright that it's features are barely distinguishable. It's voice is androgynous, and speaks with charm.

"You did a pretty adequate job, Lola."

It ruffles the fur of the pink creature as it praises them.

"So that's what they're called. Lola. Hmm. I was thinking of naming 'em myself but i was stumped." Gerard comments with a hint of disappointment, "But are you finally gonna help me out of here or what?" he adds, slightly nervous.

"Not yet. We must negotiate... You are the only one who can see us. The only one who hasn't wound up dead by stepping inside of this vehicle, and most importantly, you were chosen by the machine." it's words slip with uncertainty and sour undertones, forcing the situation to be creepier than it already is.

Gerard grows in fear, his breaths drawing progressively sharper. The joy of his desires being so close in reach lowered his guard, he almost forgot the potential dangers of subhuman creatures!

"What the fuck could I have been chosen for? I'm the biggest loser at this joint! Even the janitor wouldn't fall for this- if you're gonna eat me or somethin' just kill me now already and spare me the pain!" Gerard snaps with stress, agressively gesturing towards the messages and strange posters on the walls in disbelief. The alien goddess blinks, humbled by Gerard's violent assumptions.

"We want to form an alliance with planet Earth without starting a war this time. We come in peace," the goddess explains, putting their webbed hands up, "my people are suffering from our highest deficit of essential living supplies in centuries. If an ordinary, likeable human being such as yourself can draw attention to us... We won't have to suffer anymore."

"Likeable, huh. Sure. But what if I'm not good enough? What about my family and friends?" Gerard averts eye contact, moping down at his dirty sneakers.

"It has been decided by unimaginably high divinity that you are capable, Gerard. As for your loved ones, they cannot know of our meeting yet. Not until you have completed your art. In six months time, we will reconcile and you'll be taken on a venture across space and time- and don't stress, your family and friends will receive explanatory letters from us if they don't buy it from you." the figure folds it's arms.

Gerard steps forward.

"So, I could really make music that saves lives?" Gerard meekly perks up at the luminescent lifeform, wincing with self doubt.

"Even better," it suggests...

"You could make history."