#very typical of me but i'm still disappointed

[clairedaring]

if you're hoping for joe 2.0 to get his 'revenge' in the second half of the series...

warning: mild novel spoilers (but also not really because i'm just discussing things that have been shown in the trailer)

i really think you should either drop the series or give up the hopes of a satisfying makjang revenge storyline in my stand-in instead of setting yourself up for disappointment. because that simply isn't the story that my stand-in is trying to tell.

so what is my stand-in about really?

well, for me i think its a romance tragicomedy drama about an idiotic scum male lead losing the person he loves most because of his own arrogance and refusal to listen to his heart and the series of unfortunate events that happened consequently for our protagonist who was living a peaceful and quiet life as a stunt actor before the scum male lead entered his life.

joe 2.0 and his approach to life

i've mentioned it twice now that one of my favorite traits of joe/zhou xiang is that kindness in his strength where even if he can be choose to be mean or cruel, he simply doesn't because he has such a soft heart and he's weak to see others in pain (joe is my fellow enfp people pleaser okay) (⁠っ⁠˘̩⁠╭⁠╮⁠˘̩⁠)⁠っ which is why even in his 2.0 life, you won't get to see joe turning 180 degree and going around to hurt everyone who's ever hurt him like it's some makjang kdrama.

and while that seems like it could be fun, i think the reason why i loved professional body double (my stand-in novel) so much in the first place is because that very distinction between joe and other rebirth/second chance at life protagonists that you often see in revenge kdramas/cdramas/thai lakorns.

logically, if my stand-in was a 24-episode one31 lakorn/thai soap opera, joe would be full of hatred and burning rage after his rebirth and started his intricated revenge plot while still falling in love with ming whom he should hate the most.

and yet he isn't (or at least it seems to me so far).

if you read the lyrics 'Die For You' - the opening ost of my stand-in, i think you can have a good guess of what the second half of the story will be like.

Even running away to death can't help. If my heart had chosen to stop at you I'll have to surrender with the confusion I feel. To come back to the same old place. Even if I have to die, disappear and then be reborn But the love is still buried deep inside, even if it's been shattered into pieces Even if my life ends, I can't stop my heart from calling out to you Because this whole body, life, spirit It is yours only, for all eternity.

and even from the trailer of my stand-in, you can tell that joe 2.0 has a lot of internal conflicting feelings about whether he could trust ming again after the betrayal he faced in his 1.0 life. and i feel like essentially the journey of ming proving to joe 2.0 that he really does love joe is very much the central plot in the second half part of the story.

so i'd like to take this part to note how well the series has done to adapt the novel so far. i think a good adapted change they've made is this early realization of feelings for ming in the joe 1.0 timeline. i do think the novel made him realized his feelings a little bit later but my stand-in did well to show within ep.3 what happiness could have looked like for joe 1.0 and ming and i think it rationalizes a bit more more for why joe 2.0 would still have feelings for ming 'buried deep inside' even when he's been badly hurt the first time around. and reading the story i've always found it interesting that they took this route to focus on the re-entangled complex relationship between mingjoe rather than going for a joe-centric revenge makjang plot (i swear if this was your typical thai lakorn, joe would seduce ming while planning to take down his whole family or something).

of course, that's not to dismiss that there's a lot of character growth for joe in the second half of the story, especially in his building of self-confidence, self-worth, the ability to put himself first and the fight for his own happiness above all. but like i've mentioned above, his growth journey is not at the expense of a drastic personality change in regards to the kind hearted joe we saw in his 1.0 life. instead, we get kind hearted joe 2.0 who quickly adapts to his new life and attempts to start anew while conflicted feelings resurface for him as he is pulled back into the relationships he once had.

all in all, my stand-in is still at the heart of it, a love story. perhaps, a dark romance as my friend @dragonsandphoenix would call it, but a romance nonetheless. i think that is what also makes professional body double such a compelling read too, because the progression in the feelings and complex emotions of these characters are so tightly written that it's convincing enough for me (maybe not for others though) to believe that yan ming xiu has/will always love zhou xiang (to the point ymx would probably eliminate anyone else who dared to steal zx from him). obsessive love? yes. do they both need therapy? probably. yet i still believe in their happy ending? of course.

final note/disclaimer: then again, this is just my PERSONAL opinions based on the novel and up til 3 episodes of my stand-in (which seems to be very faithful to the novel so far), who knows maybe they can anger novel fans and adapt it completely differently later on (something i sure hope they don't but we'll seeeee) ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ

[the-fiction-witch]

In The Eyrie P2

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Jacaerys Velaryon Couple - Jacaerys X Reader Reader - Sharra Arynn (OC - Dark Hair / Plus Sized / Pale Skin) Rating - Sweet Word Count - 1261

Plus size OC described as 'Chubby' not meant in a derogatory way

Part One

As the guard led him out of the throne room and through the halls, Jace felt himself with mixed emotions at what was to come. When they reached the door to his betrothed, he was given a look by the guard. A silent warning to be on his best behaviour. The door was opened and Jacaerys moved inside the door slamming shut behind him, he found the chamber to be very beautiful, the grey Vale stone with curtains of blue and white, many windows and sweet stains and silks, furniture of dark wood and blue fabric, two balconies one to the courtyard and he thought of the woman who he had seen looking down at him, to think that may have been her and another balcony to the outside of the castle. He looked around and saw no one but he heard singing like a sweet songbird from the open balcony door. Jacaery’s eyes were drawn to the balcony he stepped out curious about the sight he might see.

The sight in front of him was not a surprise but the voice and melody were one he could not resist, he was stunned. He saw the grey stone balcony that overlooked the Vales rolling hills, birds came to a birdhouse built into the balcony walls, birds settling in before the storm took hold, and on the balcony stood a woman. She looked his age, with long dark brown hair, pale skin, and a beautiful gown of blue velvet and silver embroidery, She had a voice like an angel, but immediately he noticed she was chubby, she had wide hips, broad shoulders but she had freckles she wasn't a Westeros standard of beautiful by any means.

Jacaerys knew in the moment that this was his betrothed. After a long stare, he felt a knot fill his stomach at her curves. She was chubby, he didn’t know how to feel about this, it wasn’t like terrible but mildly disappointing to him, but he felt bad immediately for thinking that, she was still a beauty in that as well. She possessed a charm and a comfort that he had never seen before. As he stared at her, his eyes wandered over her form, from head to toe. She was not what he pictured as his wife but she was a welcome change of pace from the typical beauty of the realm. He took a deep breath and tried to settle the nerves in his stomach as he finally spoke. He didn't want to appear rude or disrespectful to his betrothed, there could be a chance that their romance could bloom. He took a step forward to the woman.

"My Lady." Jace bowed his head formally, He tried his best to ignore it and appear respectful.

She gasped as he spoke as she hadn't heard him arrive, "My prince," she bowed her head as she kissed the head of a baby bird before helping it into the birdhouse and closing the small doors, she turned to him her hands Infront of her stomach picking at her nails as she can barely met eyes with him,

Jace would chuckle gently to himself at the sight before him. The way she took care of the birds and how she fiddled with her fingers. It reminded him of his mother in a way, she had a delicate manner about her. He had not expected this girl to be his wife, but she had captured his attention. The way she looked at him was what caught him most. "You care deeply for those birds don't you?"

"I do, I have watched over them in my room now for six generations. I make sure to take them in before each storm," she answered "I'm - forgive me but... Please do not feel you need to make small talk with me,” she said which stopped him a moment, “I understand that the meer sight of me is likely enough for you to make your decision please do not feel you need to be polite to me. You may just go,"

Jacaery’s heart skipped a beat at the words. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Was she really allowing him to back out if this arrangement made him uncomfortable? That moment was all it took for him to understand what kind of person she was. A kind, sweet, generous woman who was undeserving of anything but the best. At that moment, Jace knew he had to try and make this one work. "I won't be leaving, my Lady."

"why ever not?"

Jace's smile grew upon his face as he looked her in the eyes. "Because just from what you have shown me, I can already see that you are more than what I ever could have hoped for in a wife. I have never had the opportunity to choose my bride, and you were not in my mind as what I sought after, but you seem to be exactly what I need."

"Please... Do not toy and tease me Prince Jacaerys"

Jacaerys paused at her words. She seemed very guarded and he thought he could fix that. He took a few steps toward her, she had a beauty about her that was much more than looks. "I do not toy or tease, my lady. You have captured my eye, my heart, and my interest. I have no desire to joke in this matter."

she stepped back widening the space between them "I offer this to you now. You may go. Now. And I will think no ill of you, you have my permission to go, to leave, and I will not argue with you. Please go. I could not bear another jest..."

The Prince's smile faded as he saw the terror in her eyes. She truly believed that she was unlovable, he could see it in her eyes like she was damaged from previous rejections. He could see a part of himself in her. A part that hurt, felt unwanted, unloved by the realm and even his own blood had called him a bastard, and he felt somewhat unwanted becuase of it. "I do not joke in this, nor do I wish to mock you as some cruel jape. I came here and I saw you, the sight before me was all I needed to see. A beauty that makes everything appear dim by comparison." he explained, "I came here to wed you and I'll be damned if I leave without you by my side as my wife. Let the world mock and laugh at us, but I would rather have someone sweet, and kind, that I can love by my side instead of one who fits their mould of beauty with no way of kindness of conversation. I see a beauty and a strength in you that others may not. I would marry you tomorrow if I could. But I beg of you, give me a chance."

she nodded and after a moment offered her arm to lead them both inside

Jace was stunned when she accepted, taking her arm as he followed her inside. He could feel his heart beating out of his chest, she had offered him the chance he had been looking for his entire life. She wasn't beautiful by Westerosi's standards but that didn't matter, she was beautiful to him. He glanced at her as he walked beside her, noticing her hands once more. They were soft, feminine, and full of beauty. Once inside, he couldn't help but notice the smell of the chamber itself and how it mixed with her sweet perfume. Everything about her was perfect.

Masterlist Of Jacaerys Velaryon

Tags (Sorry didn't see them till now)

@astarborntowrite

@ximetrevino2021

[englass]

Plains and Valleys

Pairing(s): John Seed x Deputy/Reader

Warning(s): John is his own warning; Possessive/Obsessive Behaviour; John being creepy; Stalking; kind-of Crack, this isn’t taken all that seriously; Not Beta’d; Experimental Piece; NSFW/Explicit, my first (and likely only) attempt at smut -- please kindly let me know if there’s anything else I should warn of here, I don’t know what I’m doing.

Word Count: 4,020

A/N(s): The title is basically a placeholder for while I was writing this because I had no idea what to name it... and truly, I can’t be asked to think of something better for a piece that only exists to see if I can write smut (spoilers: I can’t, but I’m not letting a completed piece rot away in my docs just because I’m embarrassed; I worked and spent time on this damnit!).

On another note, I was gonna just give this piece over as my contribution to WIP day that @derelictheretic was kind enough to tag me in, but decided against it. I’ll post a proper response and WIP later this week or next, so bear with me please hun! Just wanted to get this out there first.

- - -

John had a problem.

Well, he had many problems. Not least of all his growing frustration at the continued resistance from the Fairgraves' in his pursuit for the deed to their ‘establishment’. He also had been unable to play with Affirmation as regularly as he would have liked, so that put him in an even fouler mood than usual. And he wasn't going to even think about the stress he was starting to feel with his brother constantly breathing down his neck; always questioning his actions as though he were a child constantly getting into trouble and needing twenty-four hour monitoring, always asking after the progress of things that take time. A lot of time.

John may have a substantial amount of money at his disposal, but that does not mean he can work miracles.

Not all of the time, at least.

And his problems don’t stop there, oh no. Despite what many likely thought of him (and what a stroke to his ego that is, knowing that people think of him) John was well aware of his problems, his faults. He’d spent a lot of time getting intimate with them, after all; and every now and again they'd crop up like daisies, weeding their way to the surface yet again. He’d become rather good at managing them, if he said so himself, but even John wasn’t perfect (he was damn close to it though, as many would agree). And one fault he hadn’t quite been able to trim back was his tendency to fixate on things; obsess. 

He obsesses over his plane, over its upkeep and maintenance, its flight records, the slightest scratch that wasn't there the day before-- how the fuck did that get there!?

He obsesses over the details on the manifestos he’s given, the contracts he’s made, dates and times for resource collection, rotations, their members' personal records (he denies having those), PR management, expenditures and everything in between. 

He obsesses over his home, the décor, the colours and lighting, materials used, the whole aesthetic. How he presents himself, the clothes and brands he wears (it’s vain but he needs those creature comforts), his posture, his presence, his overall look that creates an identity that just screams nothing but John.

He obsesses over things.

He knows he does. It’s a faulty blessing.

And he has found something new to obsess over.

John has had a few run-ins with the local Deputies of Hope County in the past. Mostly Joey Hudson, delightful as she is, but ordinarily he doesn’t think too much of them. After all, he’s untouchable and they all know it. There’s no reason to worry about them, let alone waste his precious free time (what little he gets of it) thinking about them. They’re insignificant in the grand scheme of things. Nothing but an inconvenience, an annoyance at most. Completely irrelevant.

But then he saw her.

Standing there, innocuous, looking out at something (for something? Nothing?) in the distance. 

There’s a hitch, the catch of a stilted breath.

Where they were keeping her hidden he has no idea, but he is taken the moment he catches that rogue glance of her.

And, strangely, he doesn't know why.

Sure, John and his brothers have been in this County for a good while now and he has never seen her before, so it’s perfectly normal for him to be curious about the unfamiliar face in town. Nothing wrong with that, it’s innocent enough.

Except there’s everything wrong with that.

Because that’s not it.

He can’t even blame his wandering eyes on her appearance; she’s wearing that drab uniform that even a charity shop wouldn’t take, and it does nothing to enhance whatever natural beauty she may have hidden underneath it. Although, the girl-next-door look she gives off is begrudgingly cute (if he dared to utter the word unironically).

Honestly, she’s not the type of woman that he typically would have paid any special attention to back in his lawyer days. Fucked her stupid maybe, for the extra notch in his bedpost, but he likely wouldn’t have taken her number or thought too much about her afterwards. Relegated to just another lay in a long line of bed partners that he doesn’t remember all the names of.

To be blunt, she isn’t anything special.

And maybe that’s part of the appeal, what hooks him in. Because she is different; unassuming and uncomplicated, modest to a point of simplicity. And yet there is something about her that he can’t actively see or name from his spot across the street that has drawn him in without even trying. And he doesn’t know what or why.

It’s as infuriating as it is intriguing.

Perhaps there is some iota of truth in what Joseph had said to him a while ago, John supposed silently to himself at the time: the simplest of things can be beautiful, in their own unconventional ways.

Although his brother could have said as much with far less words, verses, and vague allusions to a potential future that might never be-- a spark of sudden change that sets a new course in motion; scales tipped by the most consuming of emotions; scorched by a soul so deceptively unremarkable that no one would have thought to believe just how uniquely special they would become--

…

…… 

… Huh… 

John creates a special slot in his increasingly hectic schedule just for her from then on out.

He goes out of his way to find more reasons to harass and bother the local population, all in a fruitless attempt to get lucky and have her answer their call for aid and come and tell him what a bad boy he’s being. (Annoyingly she never turns up, though.)

He makes calls and pulls some strings to the businesses he’s procured, makes inquiries to anyone that would listen to him, including those doing menial tasks or even going through their Atonement (they don’t understand the relevancy of his questioning and he may have been a little harsher with them than he should’ve been because of it), and all in the name of his personal investigation into her.

After all, he had argued to himself in front of a cork board covered with documents and pictures of her with a feverish flavour, what sort of Herald would he be if he didn't know everything about everyone living in his-- their, his and his brothers, soon-to-be County?

His invasive and not completely legal search into this new Deputy (and she is new it turns out, freshly transferred in fact) goes on for a full, nonstop month before -- during one of his totally-random-and-not-planned stops into town -- he discovers something else about her.

When he first saw his Deputy (and doesn’t that feel good to say) she was alone, leaning against the wooden beam of the Sheriff’s Department’s porch and staring out into the distant fields; the late afternoon sun haloing her figure in its golden warmth, its light making the colour of her eyes blaze bright and her hair shine silkily. The perfect picture of ease.

This time, when he finally manages to spy another in-person look at her, he finds that she has company. She’s standing next to the ever friendly Hudson, posture held strong by an understated confidence and arms casually crossed beneath her bust, an amused smile on her decidedly pretty face as Hudson talks animatedly about something that he can’t hear.

And she’s looking up at her.

John blinks, and blinks again.

He’s definitely seen her file, he even remembers glossing through her medical records (which he would most assuredly deny having if anyone asked), so he knows how tall she is. But for some reason it apparently hadn’t quite registered to him until now what that would look like in a physical comparison between the two of them.

He knows that the lovely Hudson is a couple of inches shorter than him, not too far off from meeting him eye-to-eye. His Deputy, from what he can see, is about a full head shorter than Hudson. Which would put her, what, roughly just about eye-to-chest with him...?

He thinks about it. Thinks about her next to him, imagines what that would look like. Thoughts surprisingly innocent as he wonders after clichés of reaching for something that she can’t reach, of cocooning her in his arms as he effortlessly wrangles her into his lap. Envisions the domesticity of easily resting his head on top of hers as he holds her from behind, slotting himself into the mould of her figure like matching puzzle pieces, perfectly meant to be and belong… 

A high pitched, shaky sound slips free at the mental reel.

It’s not a secret the type of life that John used to live. He has been with numerous types of women, something he used to take a great deal of pride in, and has indulged in and explored his fair share of kinks in the comfort of expensive silk sheets. But who would have guessed that the former playboy, John Duncan now John Seed, would have a thing for domestic bliss.

Or rather, domestic bliss with little. ol’. her.

John makes the executive decision then and there to talk to his Deputy as soon as possible. Preferably alone. Without interference.

It feels like forever before he gets the opportunity.

A week later, on a daily walk through Falls End that has only admittedly become a thing in order to check up on the lucky woman of his blazing affections (I am not stalking her, Jacob, he had grounded out menacingly to his accusing older brother over Sunday dinner; who proceeded to look on at John with a slow quirk of an eyebrow), he finds his ever elusive Deputy resting around the corner of the Sheriff’s Department’s building. Eyes closed, head down, arms crossed, and safely concealed in the shade; unsuspectingly calm in her desired time alone.

And John is quick to ruin it.

He can’t help himself, he really can’t. The opportunity is here and he would be remiss to let it pass him by.

Even if she does look rather serene.

He's seen a few photos of her, more than a few actually-- albums worth even, so he knows what she looks like up close. He even printed one out (it’s a favourite of his, a near perfect replica of the first time he saw her) and has it framed on his bedside table; but it turns out no amount of photos quite do the real her justice.

The closer he gets to her the more he notices how petite she is, how the loose yet deceptively form-fitting hug of her bland uniform subtly accentuates the curves and slopes of her modest figure; the daintiness of her fingers as they rest against the exposed, smooth skin of her arms; that familiar magnetic draw snapping to life in the colour of her eyes as they lazily open, sparkling as he gets closer and she looks up at him, wide and wondering.

Innocent.

Oh, he was so wrong about her, he realises wondrously. Did her such a disservice in his initial judgement of her all those weeks ago. She is far from average.

And being here in front of her, close enough to touch, to be able to easily reach out and trap her against the wall and between his arms if he so wanted to, safely protected under the cage of his form -- her neck craning back in order to comfortably gaze up at him, meeting his eyes as he stares down at her… 

It makes something inside him go wild.

John lays the charm on quick and swift, hand attractively running through his hair as a practised but handsome smile lights up his face, eyes twinkling through his lidded gaze with an aweing hunger he knows he is failing to keep hidden.

Getting the first word in, he leans close to the wall, not quite putting his full weight against it (his shirt was expensive) but close enough to allow him a moment of privacy with her by limiting her field of view to only him. Blocking out everyone-- everything else with his taller frame (and doesn’t that thought spark a sudden twitch of interest) as he eagerly monopolises her attention.

Daringly he edges further into her space while he talks ardently to her, truly basking in the unexpected pleasure he gets in watching her unintentionally baring her neck to him; being so beautifully submissive for him without consciously realising it. Amusement colouring his tone in pale notes as he watches the way her pretty eyes darken and narrow at his progressive disturbance and invasion of her time and space.

Fuck. He didn’t know it would be this intoxicating to be so close to her.

Even as he dances through conversation with playful words and hinting remarks, becomes enamoured by the soothing intonation of her voice as she is dragged along with guarded comments and wary retorts, he can’t stop the way his mind ever so sinfully wanders… 

It really would be so easy to have her up against this wall. To crowd her in with his frame on all sides and her vision filled with nothing but him. The centre of her universe and attention, him; and his hers. The concept of that sort of all-encompassing intimacy and devotion makes John shudder. Hungry all the more for it and the woman that has unknowingly given him a taste of what it could all be and become, of what that level of pure, unadulterated want is inspiring in him.

He could easily have her against this wall. Have her looking directly skyward up at him as if he were her moon and stars, as he looks directly down at her-- his entire world and more.

Snatch her thigh and hoist it up towards his waist. Have her balancing precariously on the tips of her toes and clutching desperately at him, trusting John to help hold and support her and keep her steady as he shields her from the world around them. Hides her away from the unworthy just as the unworthy have hidden her away from him. His lips sweetly latching onto hers, her taste finally on his tongue after all these weeks of wanting, involuntarily grounding his hips into hers as a desperate sound breaks within his throat.

Oh, John can visualise it now: the two of them breathing in each other's air, bodies flush as he tugs and pushes closer, her shirt riding up as it's snagged by the rough brickwork at her back, arching into him on an unsteady foot to escape its harsh bite. Teeth nipping teasingly at her lips and tongue licking moreishly into her mouth as his free hand roams down her stomach, pulls the rest of her shirt loose and fumbles in his eagerness with the buttons of her jeans, yanking the zipper down and shoving his hand below the waistband and into her underwear. Hearing her whine sweetly into his mouth as he feels just how wet she is for him, how much she wants him and how eagerly she welcomes him into her as he plunges his fingers into her slick cunt with a needy and quaking moan of his own. 

Would she want it quick and rough? His fingers thrusting knuckle deep as he presses tight circles to her throbbing clit, teeth at her throat as he claws into her thigh held tightly in the dip of his waist. Listening to how her moans get higher, her breathing gets quicker, turning into desperate little gasps before he tugs his fingers free of her; lips devouring hers in quick apology as he battles to pull his aching cock free, cursing lowly against her lips as his slick covered fingers slip on the metal of his belt. She’d help him, he knows she would -- such a good girl --, nipping and kissing him back with wanton sounds as she bats his hand away, revelling in the noises he makes for her -- only for her, only ever for her -- as she pulls him free; rolling her hips until his cock catches on her slit and he’s thrusting home into her.

Only then -- while feeling her walls flex around him, mouth hanging open as they both bask in finally, finally being so intimately connected to one another -- would he finally hike her other leg up to wrap fully around his waist, fully supporting her weight and driving himself deeper into her, one of his arms coming up to press into the wall beside her, hand caringly slipping behind her head; bracketing her in. Shivering as her breath warms his neck and she cries out for him.

And considering her height… fuck, he can only imagine just how tight she’d be for him, chocking his cock as she squeezes him, milking him for all he’s worth until his teeth are stained red against her lovingly maimed neck. His hips snapping into hers with a guttural growl, panting sensual snarls of encouragement into her ear as he demands and begs in equal measure that she touch herself for him, dexterous fingers chasing her end as he chases his own until-- she’s coming around him with a high and shuddery keen. Her soft walls sucking him deeper into her, legs locking tighter around his waist and keeping him there as he spills himself into the back of her hot cunt with a strangled moan. Claiming her as his as he presses in closer, plugging her full with his cock and cum and praying that it’ll take-- 

…

……

… Huh.

He will definitely be exploring that at a later date…

Or perhaps she wouldn’t want it like that. Wouldn’t want him to be so rough and careless with her. Maybe she would want him to go slower, to be gentle-- to be good for her, to take his time and truly enjoy and appreciate every sweet beg and whimper that falls from her perfect lips. Perhaps she wouldn’t want to fuck him at the back of her shabby place of work, or even anywhere out in the open; maybe she would prefer privacy, for him to make love to her. Would want him to steal her away into his home, to carefully lay her out on his bed and unwrap her like a delicate gift, hands tracing teasing paths along her body before spreading her wide for his tasting pleasures. Taking his time to truly savour her unique flavour on his palette, wanton sounds pressed into sensitive flesh as he takes her throbbing clit into his mouth and sucks.

Broad strokes of his skilled tongue parting her lips and drinking her down, fingers firm as they hold onto the soft meat of her thighs and hips, thumbs rubbing soothing motions into her skin as he opens her up for him. Urges her with hot breathes, praising words, the flick of his tongue and the dip of his fingers into her wet heat, to cum for him; pleads with sound and touch and a greedy haze over his lust-darkened eyes. The gravel in his gluttonous voice vibrating into her, in love with how she reaches and cries out for him as he tells her how good she’s being for him, how badly he needs her to cum for him-- a debauched sound choking out of him as she does. Completely enraptured as she reaches the height of pleasure -- pleasure he brought her, that he will always strive to bring her --, bearing witness to his own personal God-given vision as he watches her writhe against his sheets and listens to her songs of praise, easing her down from that divine high and back into his devoted embrace.

Kissing a line up to her bitten lips, answering her mewls with soft coos and grounding touches, brushing over a nipple before taking the perky flesh into his mouth with a brief suck and fleeting skim of teeth, letting go with a lingering kiss before moving across and repeating the process to its twin. Reluctantly drawing away to playfully nip and press wet kisses into the column of her throat before letting her taste the tanginess of her juices on his tongue. Languidly kissing as he strokes her sides, writing indecipherable words of affection into her skin, content to let her enjoy the bliss of post-orgasm before he slowly pulls away, descending back down the line of her body with a husky, ‘one more, just one more for me, darling...’ 

John knows he wouldn’t stop at just ‘one more’ though. Hopefully she’d be generous enough to give him a few more before he finally slakes his need for her.

And hopefully she doesn't see the hard-on he’s now sporting after such vivid fantasies.

In a particularly bold move, temptation spurred into a fever from improper imaginings, John reaches for her; fixates on a strand of hair that has become untucked from behind her ear. She tenses, muscles coiling tight as she gives him the most suspicious look somebody has ever given him before. He’s actually rather offended. And very hurt.

But it’s sobering, in its own way. Because suddenly he can hear Joseph’s voice in his head from last Sunday (what a turn-off…), advising him that if he wanted to pursue a relationship with this Deputy that he was so smitten with then he needed to be gentle, considerate.

John may have done his ‘research’ on her, extensively so, but that did not mean that he was entitled or even deserving of her affections. He could not expect her to be on the same page as him, especially considering he had yet to even interact with her at that point. She may not have even heard of him yet, Joseph had speculated-- John and Jacob quietly sharing a disbelieving look. Everyone in the County knew their names, and with her being a Deputy there was no way she hadn’t heard of them.

Regardless, Joseph’s point still stood: if John wanted a genuine chance with her then he needed to soften himself, to be delicate, more tactful with her. Demonstrate that he can hear and see her for all that she is and can be, and that he accepts her without reservation.

Think of it like Atonement, Joseph had supplied sagely, fingers steepled, she needs to willingly give her confession over to you, John. Her affections. You can’t just take them.

And to Joseph’s credit, that actually made sense to John.

Atonement was all about accepting one’s sins, confessing them to another whom they trusted would never condemn nor judge them for their past actions or choices; unburdening themselves so they may be reborn pure and untainted for the hopeful future ahead of them. In that regard, his pursuit of his Deputy wasn’t too dissimilar.

So in that brief moment, in that flash of hurt as she steels herself against his considerate gesture and where John remembers Joseph’s words, he pauses. Convinces himself to go slower, to not try to grab at her like a spoiled brat reaching for things that weren't his-- yet. Reigns himself in enough so he doesn’t give her anymore of a reason to potentially be wary of him, to which he has very likely just given her quite a few. Trying in his own distinct way to smooth over her obvious distrust of him.

John knows he’s made mistakes throughout his life. Many would say he’s not a good man, and he wouldn’t necessarily disagree with them. But seeing and learning of her, of recalling his brother’s words and advice, of the many fantasies he’s had before and even during meeting her in this moment, he thinks he could change that. Knows that, if she would have him, if she gave him the chance, he’d be good. He’d be good for her.

Joseph always talks about love, about the power and control it wields over people and-- admittedly, John doesn’t completely get it. 

But with her? For her? He thinks he just might.

… 

He thinks he already does.

[edwardshundredyearoldspunk]

I hate being put in the box I made for myself

[slytherinslut0]

MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter Eighteen-Info: You and Mattheo have been butting heads for months, since you were assigned as his tutor, and one day during a session full of tense bickering, he has enough.

(This will essentially be a toxic book where we are Theos fucktoy. No love here, very minimal fluff.)

Tags: 18+, Angst, Fighting/Bickering, Sexual Tension, Dirty Talk, Grinding, Kissing, Teasing, Anger Issues, Slight Degradation.

****FIND THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS HERE.

In the hushed atmosphere of Dumbledore's office, the venerable headmaster sat regally behind his desk, his piercing eyes gazing over the rim of half-moon spectacles. Mattheo Riddle, an embodiment of stoic strength, stood tall beside you. His usual cool demeanor was marred by a simmering rage, evident in the tight clench of his jaw and the intensity of his gaze. You, on the other hand, stood meekly, your nerves palpable, a stark departure from your typically composed self.

"Thank you both for joining me at this early hour," Dumbledore's voice cut through the silence, stern and unyielding. There was no warmth in his tone despite his polite words. "I understand there was an altercation involving Mr. Berkshire and the both of you, Mr. Riddle. Is my understanding correct?"

Mattheo stood like a monolith, his façade unyielding, revealing nothing but a subtle inclination of his head in response. You stole a quick glance at him, a surge of frustration bubbling within you, wishing you could shake him out of his cold indifference, aching to see any sign of remorse or regret just for the sake of Dumbledores scrutiny. The room was saturated with a heavy silence, punctuated only by the distant murmur of students in the corridors, amplifying the tension in the air.

Dumbledore sighed, his disappointment evident as he shifted in his chair, his gaze fixed on both of you. "I must express my profound disappointment," he began, his words measured but stern. "Your actions were deeply troubling. Resorting to extreme violence, regardless of the provocation, is not the way we resolve conflicts here at Hogwarts."

Mattheo's eyes sparked with a hint of irritation, his silence resonating with unspoken defiance, his fists clenched in his pockets. The weight of his anger hung in the air, intensifying your own nervousness. Your palms grew damp, your fingers twitching with unease as they hung anxiously at your sides.

"As for you," Dumbledore's gaze shifted toward you, his expression softening slightly, a glimmer of understanding in his eyes. "I am beyond relieved to know that you were not hurt, and I must say, you displayed commendable courage in the face of danger," he said, his words carrying the weight of acknowledgment. "You have once again proven yourself as a remarkable and strong young witch. I have no doubt that you will continue to exhibit such qualities for as long as you remain here. There are no reprimands to be given to you, and please, if you need any support at all, my door is always open."

A rush of heat surged through your veins, his words igniting a spark of excitement in your chest that you couldn't suppress even if you tried. With a soft, appreciative smile, you nodded, swallowing hard, acutely aware of the gravity of the situation.

"However," Dumbledore continued, his gaze shifting back and forth between you and the still tense Mattheo. "In light of this incident, Mr. Riddle, consequences must be faced. There is no way around it."

Mattheo's facade remained as unyielding as ever, but the tension in his shoulders spoke volumes. You, on the other hand, felt a mixture of dread and frustration at the injustice of the situation. The fact that Mattheo had to face punishment for defending you didn't sit right with you, stirring a storm of emotions within.

"Given the unique circumstances of this situation," Dumbledore continued, his gleaming eyes locked on Mattheo, "I'm willing to offer you a choice." His voice held a sense of gravity, emphasizing the importance of the decision. "You can either serve detention a few times a week for a month, during which you will also participate in counseling sessions to address your anger management issues...or, I can arrange a Mentorship for you."

This grabbed Mattheo's attention, and admittedly, yours too--your voice penetrating the air before anyone had a chance to even blink. "A Mentorship?"

"Indeed," he affirmed, his gaze shifting between you and Mattheo. "Tom has provided commendable feedback about your capabilities within the guild. I believe this presents a perfect opportunity for you, provided Mr. Riddle is willing to embark on this path. Your role would involve guiding and supporting him as he confronts his challenges. Instead of formal counseling, you will be his coach, helping him navigate his problems and providing the necessary guidance."

He paused, allowing the weight of his words to sink in before elaborating further. "You'll be required to maintain a detailed log, documenting the situations that provoke his anger and the strategies you employ to help him cope. This log will serve as a valuable resource, aiding us in evaluating his progress and providing targeted support where needed...in order to do so, you would be required to shadow him for a few weeks, outside of class time of course."

His tone softened, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. "I have faith in your ability to make a difference, young witch. This mentorship holds the potential to not only help Mr. Riddle manage his anger but also foster a sense of understanding and empathy between both of you...you have been the only one thus far who has truly been able to make a difference in helping him achieve success...I'd have never suggested this if I didn't think it would work."

The weight of Dumbledore's words hung in the air, a heavy silence stretching between the three of you. Your gaze shifted to Mattheo, his features etched with a mix of unreadable emotions. Time seemed to slow, the tension in the room palpable. After what felt like an eternity, Mattheo swallowed hard, his throat working visibly as he prepared to speak. His voice, when he finally spoke, was firm, each word carrying the weight of his resolve.

"No," he said, his eyes locking onto yours, a storm raging within them. "I won't do the mentorship."

Your heart plummeted to your feet, a sinking feeling spreading through you like icy tendrils. You were certain you were going to be sick.

"What? Why not?" you blurted out, the words escaping your lips before you could fully comprehend the weight of the situation.

Before Mattheo could respond, Dumbledore's voice cut through the building tension in the room.

"I understand this is a significant decision, Mr. Riddle," Dumbledore said, his tone measured. "I will give you until Wednesday, two days from now, to give your answer. Take this time to think about it wisely. My advice for you to take with you as you leave, is that if someone makes you feel, let them. It's a rare gift to be truly understood."

Mattheo's response to Dumbledore's words was an infuriating silence, his lack of acknowledgment felt like a slap in the face. He spun around abruptly, his demeanor so icily distant that it sent a wave of frustration surging through you. Embarrassment clung to you like a second skin, the prickling annoyance intensifying as he navigated the situation with all the subtlety of a raging bull. Despite the tumult of questions and emotions swirling inside you, you stifled them, opting for professionalism in the face of his blatant disregard.

Desperate to maintain your composure, you managed a tight-lipped expression of thanks to Dumbledore, somehow managing to suppress just how fucking furious you were. And as you briskly exited the office, you huffed in frustration, hastening to catch up with Mattheo's brisk strides who had already made it half way down the hallway at this point.

Gasping for breath, you pushed through the bustling crowd of students, your determination fueling your pursuit of Mattheo, his long strides effortlessly outpacing your hurried steps. You called out his name, your voice almost drowned out by the chatter of the passing students. Despite your efforts, he continued to distance himself, his figure becoming a mere blur in the sea of moving bodies.

Driven by sheer persistence, you pushed harder, your determination propelling you forward. It took several minutes of relentless chasing, your voice echoing down the corridor, before he finally came to a halt. His broad frame towered over you, his chest heaving with pent-up anger as he turned to face you, his eyes ablaze with fury.

"What the fuck do you want?" he snapped, his words laced with a potent mix of frustration and hostility, the raw energy practically crackling in the air around him.

"Excuse me?" Your response was tinged with incredulity, your irritation palpable. "Would you like to start over?"

Mattheo ran a hand through his disheveled hair, his jaw clenched in visible annoyance. He scanned the corridor, his eyes darting around as students hurried past, completely oblivious to the tension brewing between the two of you in their midst.

"If you think you're going to change my fucking mind, you're not," he hissed, his gaze locking onto yours with unwavering determination. "Don't waste your breath."

Your frustration flared, your brows furrowing as you glared back at him. "Can't we at least talk about it?"

"No," he retorted sharply, adjusting his tie with a swift motion. "We're just going to fucking fight."

Nervously, you glanced around, ensuring no prying eyes were lingering on the intense exchange between you and Mattheo. The corridor buzzed with the hushed conversations of passing students, each one oblivious to the storm of emotions brewing between you.

"I don't care if we fight, I don't care if you literally yell and swear at me...we always fight, Mattheo, that's what we fucking do." You stepped closer, dropping your voice lower. "We are talking about this. Wether you like it or not."

After a moment of intense silence, the challenge in your eyes seemed to finally register with Mattheo--annoyance flicking across his features before he gave an exasperated nod. He motioned for you to follow him, his tall frame moving purposefully toward an empty classroom nearby. With a swift motion, he popped open the door, gesturing for you to step inside. His eyes scanned the hallway, ensuring no prying eyes were watching the two of you.

As you entered the empty classroom, your mind raced with conflicting thoughts. The sweet, vulnerable boy you had encountered in his dorm room on Saturday night was nowhere to be found. Instead, you faced the hardened, brooding Mattheo, a stark contrast to the person you had glimpsed during your intimate encounter. The disparity left you unsettled, a feeling of confusion mingling with your frustration.

Inside the classroom, the door clicked shut, drowning out the clamor of the bustling corridor outside. With a quick turn, you dropped your bag and confronted Mattheo, your eyes blazing with a mix of frustration and pity, unable to fathom the complexities of the man standing before you.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" you exclaimed, your words slicing through the tense silence. There was no holding back now that you were alone. You searched his dark eyes, desperately trying to decipher the turmoil within him. "I mean, what are you thinking-"

"Stop," Mattheo interrupted sharply, his voice cutting through the air like a dagger as he took a step forward.

"No," you retorted, refusing to back down. "Don't you see-"

In an instant, Mattheo closed the distance between you, his presence engulfing you as he pressed you back against the desk. Your bodies were inches apart, the proximity sending shockwaves through your senses.

"I fucking said stop," he spat, his teeth clenched, his eyes burning with intensity. "Stop looking at me like that, Raven..."

Your heart stumbled in your chest. "What-"

"All I am to you is a fucking tragedy, right?" he snarled, his anger radiating off him in waves. "Just some loser you want to fix, yeah? Take me in as your new little project to impress your future boss...follow me around all day like a fucking dog..."

"N-no-" you stuttered, your pulse thundering in your ears. "That's not what this is about, Mattheo..."

Helping him was a genuine desire, not some shallow attempt to gain favour, but you knew that it'd be hard to convince him of that, considering that he knows just how much you have been dreaming for an opportunity like this. The words caught in your throat, but he didn't relent.

"Bullshit, Raven...I won't be your charity case," he spat, his tone laced with defiance. "I won't fucking do it."

The air swirled with tension as he stood, a formidable figure, glaring down at you. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, matching the rhythm of your racing heart. His words hung between you, heavy with accusation and resentment. He shook his head, a frustrated growl escaping his lips, and raked a hand through his disheveled hair. With a defeated sigh, he moved to a nearby chair, slumping down into it, his eyes fixed on the floor.

Caught off guard by the sudden intensity of his anger, you took a moment to gather your thoughts. The silence stretched, pregnant with unspoken emotions. Slowly, you found your voice, laced with a mixture of frustration and genuine concern.

"Who did that to you?" You said, fingers trembling at your sides. "Who fucked you up so bad, emotionally and mentally, that you've completely shut down anyone who tries to fucking help you?"

"Give me a bloody break," he hissed, bitterness dripping from his words as he rolled his eyes dismissively. "Romanticize me all you wish, Raven, but the devil wrapped in silk is still the fucking devil."

Your chest tightened at his cutting words, a potent blend of hurt and frustration surging within you. Desperate to maintain your composure, you ran a trembling hand through your own hair, now, attempting to quell the storm of emotions threatening to overwhelm you.

"Why are you being like this?" you shot back, your voice quivering with a mix of anger and vulnerability. "Is it because you got what you wanted from me, and now you're reverting to being a complete asshole?"

"Don't even fucking go there," Mattheo's anger surged, his eyes narrowing with a dangerous intensity, his tone dripping with venom. "I never forced you to fuck me...that was completely your choice..."

Your heart plummeted to the floor at his words, your stomach twisting into a knot so tight it felt like it might suffocate you. A choked sound escaped your lips, barely audible as you croaked out, "Oh, gods..." there was a brief pause before you managed to find your voice again. "It was all an act? Is that what it was, Mattheo?"

Mattheo grumbled, once again rolling his eyes in exasperation as his head fell back, his gaze fixated on the ceiling.

"Not an act, Raven," he replied, his voice weary. "I meant everything I said, but this is who I am, don't you fucking dare act like you didn't know that already."

At his words, you were fucking stunned. A tempest of emotions raged within, a maelstrom of desire and frustration, adoration and resentment, crashing against the walls of your heart. Adoration burned hot, entwined with bitter resentment, all while desire surged like a wildfire, intertwined with seething fury.

The tumultuous whirlwind of feelings left you teetering on the edge of reason, torn between the impulse to hurl something at him and the overwhelming urge to throw yourself into his arms.

With a long, trembling sigh, you expelled some of the tension from your lungs, your eyes fixated on him--his tousled brown hair, those mesmerizing brown eyes, the sharp contour of his jawline, and those strong, powerful hands that made you weak in an instant. He was complex, complicated; Gods, so fucking complicated, but he was yours.

"I should get my damn head examined for being associated with you," after a moment, you shook your head, a bitter grumble escaping your lips. "Gods, I hate you sometimes."

Mattheo's eyes sparked with a devilish amusement at your words, his demeanor oozing arrogance that set your body ablaze with a single glance.

"Oh, you hate me, huh?" he sneered, his voice dripping with provocation. He leaned back, lounging in his chair, his legs spreading wider as he patted his lap. "Why don't you come sit on my lap and tell me all about it, baby? I'll drill that hatred out of you real fucking good..."

"Grow up, Mattheo," you said, trying to suppress the wildfire of lust that he awakened in your lungs. Playfully rolling your eyes, you crossed your arms over your chest, leaning against the desk. "Don't try to seduce me out of discussing your insanity issues."

"Yeah, that's what I thought Raven," Mattheo huffed, his amusement evident. "You don't hate anything...isn't that why my name never seems to leave your filthy little mouth, hm?"

"Oh, I'd say your name leaves my mouth quite often, actually..." you shot back, smirking. "Mostly when I'm cursing you for being the insufferable asshole that you are, just like right now."

Mattheo's eyes narrowed, the tension in the room escalating by the second. "Hate me all you want, princess, but you're always gonna' love how I fuck you."

You let out an exasperated huff, your teeth sinking into your lower lip. "That sounds a lot like a challenge, Mattheo."

"Can't be a challenge without any competition, baby," his voice was low and husky, his confidence sending shivers down your spine. "Consider it a fucking promise."

Releasing a breath of amusement, you stood up straight, and with a deliberate, almost hypnotic sway of your hips, you began to close the distance between you and Mattheo. His eyes, dark and alluring, drank in every curve of your body as you approached, watching as you delicately pulled your lip between your teeth, a gesture that spoke volumes. Your eyes trailed down his form and then back up, locking onto his with unwavering intensity. His tailored uniform strained against his strong shoulders, accentuating the raw power beneath, his legs spread confidently, and his arm casually draped around the back of the chair as that devilish smirk of his played on his mouth.

Pausing right in front of him, you leaned in, the soft scent of his cologne filling your senses. Your fingers, like a whisper, brushed against his lips, tracing the contours as if seeking entrance to the mysteries he held within. Your voice, barely more than a sultry murmur, hung in the charged air between you.

"There are secrets in here," you purred, your touch sending shivers down his spine, "and I want them out."

Mattheo's breath hitched, a low, guttural sound escaping his lips as he fought to restrain himself. His eyes, dark and stormy, were fixated on you with a hunger that was impossible to ignore.

"Fucking hell..." he breathed, his voice laced with desire and frustration, "I'll tell you anything you want to fucking know, Raven, as long as you let me bend you over this desk right quick..."

Your entire body swarmed with lust, an insatiable need that coursed through your veins. Without a second thought, you climbed into his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck as his hands found your waist, pulling you against him. A sigh escaped your lips, head falling back in surrender as his lips trailed along your jawline. However, determination flickered in your eyes, a fierce intensity that matched his own desire.

"I want answers first, Mattheo," you breathed, your voice a sultry whisper, "then you can have me. Gods, you can have me anywhere you fucking want."

Mattheo growled, his hips instinctively surging against your core as he struggled to contain his desire. Taking a deep breath to compose himself, he whispered, his voice husky with need, "I want you everywhere, Raven...against the wall, over the desk, on a fucking table in the Great Hall..."

"Shit..." you breathed, your words a desperate plea, quickly losing yourself in his fervor. "Then you better get talking, Matty...don't you want this? Don't you want me to be able to follow you around all day without drawing suspicion? We'd be able to hide in plain fucking sight..."

"No," he groaned, his fingers digging into your hip bones, his touch a blend of desire and restraint. "I mean, yes, but fuck, no...you'll be too close, it'll be too much..."

"Too close?" Your brows furrowed, your frustration giving way to determination as you buried your hands in his hair. "What does that even mean?"

"A man I called my best fucking friend put his goddamn hands on you...he tried to fucking force himself on you...if you hadn't come around, if you'd never known me, that never would have happened...I will only bring bad things into your fucking life...I can't risk it..." his voice was low now, resonating deep within you like a thunderous echo. "You're my only fucking weakness...they'll start to notice it...someone will try to hurt you to get to me...and I can't--"

Cutting him off, your lips crashed onto his, a desperate, passionate kiss that silenced his words, your body molding against his, fingers gripping him with a fierce intensity. In that moment, words ceased to matter, and all that remained was the raw, unspoken connection between you, a bond forged in defiance of the world around you. You understood his concern, you understood his fears, but everything else be damned, you knew you'd go through fucking hell and back if it meant you could hold his stupid hand.

"I'm your weakness, huh?" you murmured, pulling back, your fingers delicately tangled in his curls, your hips moving provocatively against his, noting the subtle clenching of his jaw. "Guess it's time to prove how strong you really are, big boy..."

"Raven," Mattheo groaned, his dark, smoldering eyes fixated on your lips, his breath hitching with desire. "Keep grinding that tight little cunt on me like this and I promise I'll show you just how fucking strong I can be..."

"It's tempting, I'll admit..." you whispered, your voice a sultry murmur, slowing the movement of your hips as you took a sharp, shuddering breath to compose yourself. "Look, I understand your concerns, and I won't tell you what choice to make, but it'd mean the fucking world to me if you reconsidered...I don't know about you, but I'm not entirely satisfied with only seeing each other twice a week during tutoring..."

"Mm." Mattheo's low hum resonated against your skin, his lips trailing a path of warmth over the sensitive flesh of your neck. "Addicted to me already, aren't you?"

"Shamelessly," you confessed, your lips brushing against his ear, your voice a sultry whisper. "Mostly to that talented tongue of yours, though. The rest of you, well, I suppose I could manage without..."

"You wound me," he chided, his voice laced with mock hurt, his teeth lightly nipping your earlobe in a teasing manner. "Can't tell if you fucking love or hate me, Raven...don't think I've ever met someone like that..."

Your muscles tightened in response, his strained tone drawing a low sigh from your throat. "Does that bother your precious ego, Riddle?"

"It bothers something, Raven, but definitely not my ego," he growled, his grip on you tightening possessively. "You drive me fucking crazy, did you know you got that effect?"

"Hm, let me check," you pondered, a playful smirk gracing your lips as you smoothly slipped out of his lap. His fingers reluctantly released their hold on your hips, his groan of reluctance filling the room. "Yeah, I did."

"Where the hell are you going?" he grumbled, his hand adjusting his straining arousal in a futile attempt to ease the tension. "You said if I told you-"

"I know what I said, but I lied." you retorted, a nonchalant shrug emphasizing your indifference as you moved toward your bag, slouched on the floor. Your hidden smirk played on your lips. "Apologies, Riddle, but I'm already late to meeting Emily."

"You're unbelievable," Mattheo stood, his eyebrows raised in disbelief at your audacity. "Just wait until I get you alone later, princess," he huffed, his voice saturated with a promise that sent shivers down your spine. "You're going to regret this."

A rush of excitement coursed through you, the sincerity in his tone electrifying. "Is that a threat?"

"Consider it yet another promise," he replied, stepping closer, his hand gently tilting your head back to meet his intense gaze. "You know what they say, Raven...little girls that tease, end up on their fucking knees."

He leaned down, his presence enveloping you as he brushed his lips over yours in a feather-light kiss, sending a tingling sensation through your body. The delicate touch lingered for a heartbeat, a fleeting moment of intimacy, before he released you, stepping aside with a subtle gesture, allowing you to head toward the door.

"I look forward to it, then," you grinned, your heart thundering in your chest as you made your way past him. "And I must say, I genuinely do hope you change your mind, Riddle...it would be such a shame if you were occupied with constant detentions and therapy sessions, wouldn't it? I might get terribly bored…most likely would have to find someone else to entertain myself with…”

Almost immediately after the words left your lips, Mattheo's fury exploded in his eyes, a storm of anger and frustration. He lunged for your arm, but you slipped past him with agility, your adrenaline-fueled speed giving you the advantage. With a swift movement, you whipped open the door, leaving him seething in your wake, his voice echoing with pent-up rage as he called after you, his words lost in the distance as you made your escape.

————-

Chapter nineteen->

[literaila]

still here 

tasm!peter x reader 

summary: there’s an ache in me, put there by the ache in you

(for @elysian-chaos)

warnings: angst, fluff, feeling unworthy, feeling useless, you know, seperation 

a/n: ‘tis the damn season is the best song ever. dont argue 

*

there's this little thing called stress baking. 

typically, stress baking is referred to as coping by making something delicious to scavenge on, instead of dwelling on the feelings scavenging you. and typically, it's done with a certain type of elegance--one that is made up of chaos. completely insane, yet completely in control. it's a messy dance, but perfectly choreographed. 

stress baking is a very reviving task. filling up the house with muffins and pies is not only good for distracting yourself, but also for making friends when you run out of room. or smiling at the cashier every time you have to go to the store for ingredients. 

it's something you've practiced for years. something you've become somewhat addicted to. 

but then there's baking while stressed. which, you swear, hadn't been your intention. 

brownies from a box were supposed to be easy. they were notoriously easy. a couple of eggs, some oil, and some water. the hardest part of your job was mixing, but you'd done it so many times that you zoned out while doing all of it. 

box brownies were supposed to be non-stress and quick. but when you burn the brownies and batter rises over the top of your glass pan, and the oven is dirty, and the apartment smells like burnt batter and oven cleaner--well, you have to reread the directions. 

you're a good baker. you've been making cookies and cakes for parties for years. you pride yourself on not needing measuring cups because you can eye a recipe by the gram. 

not that these brownies would agree. 

and it's already five-forty-five. peter is going to be home in the next fifteen minutes and this was supposed to be a treat. something good. 

"surprise! i ruined our oven, and now we're going to have to spend the next few nights at your aunt's house in your twin-sized bed until the smell of death goes away!" doesn't typically bring out any smiles.

and peter's been stressed lately, and you've been stressed about him. 

and now you're making brownies from scratch without butter--because you used it all on the last batch, oops--and the number of candles you've lit is a sure fire hazard. 

but if peter would just smile at you, pull you in by your waist and laugh while he kissed you with a chocolate mouth, it would all be fine. 

if there wasn't so much riding on this one (two) pan(s) of brownies. like being able to sleep comfortably tonight. 

you turned the oven down, found a new pan--threw the other one out because it was nothing but a source of disappointment--and cleaned the oven just enough to not draw any suspicions. but you could still feel the failure lurking. 

peter was going to come home to a chaotic house, and it was your fault. 

so you scrubbed at the counters. fixed the stack of bills on the table so that you couldn't see any of the stamps, folded the blankets, and even swept the kitchen floor. 

still, you knew peter would know. because he always knows. and maybe that was why he was acting so weird lately--maybe that's why you were acting so weird. 

the door opened when the timer on the oven went off. 

you'd wanted to watch peter walk through the door--so you could gauge how tired he was, how miserable--but maybe it was better not to know. to let him put on a mask while your back was still turned. 

"hey, baby," he said, as you were pulling the brownies out of the oven, setting his house keys on the counter and sighing. "i'm home." 

you peeked over your shoulder, giving him a hint of a smile--the same type he was giving you. "hey, honey," you said back, "you're home." 

peter walked around the island to stand right behind you, kissing the back of your head and stealing a look over to the stovetop. he clears his throat. "brownies?" 

you shrug. "thought you might like something sweet when you got home." 

you take off the oven mitt, not really wanting to look at him--maybe because you're scared of what you'll see, or maybe just because you can already feel his eyes tearing down your skin. 

but you can feel his breath on your neck as he chuckles. his exhaustion as he leans into your back. 

"i've already got you, though," he whispers one peck at the edge of your jaw, another by your ear. 

you snort and pull away, turning so you can look at him. and then you pretend to throw up. 

he laughs and pokes your forehead.

you're not looking at him and he's not looking at you. 

you turn back to the brownies. 

"did you drop something in the oven?" peter asks, leaning his chin on your shoulder. 

"no," you answer, a bit too defensive. 

"sure?" 

"am i sure that i didn't burn something in the oven, peter? yes." 

there's a beat. "...cause it smells like it." 

you headbutt him. "you smell like it. go shower. you can't eat these yet." 

"yes, ma'am," peter takes a step back, and you look at him again.  you can see the question in his eyes, and see your own reflecting the same question. 

what are you hiding? 

"we have some ice cream, too." 

peter moans, his head back. you roll your eyes at him. 

and you start cutting the brownies, worries, and chocolate chips sticking to the knife, listening to peter's footsteps, feeling his presence sticking to you like sugar, sticky and rich, his eyes keeping you on edge. 

you know you shouldn't feel stupid--peter doesn't actually know what happened, or care--but you do. because he knows, and because even from the split second you looked at him, you could see the strain on his skin, the pressure weighing him down, dragging his feet across the floor. 

you feel stupid just because you don't know what to do. so before he can close the door, you turn around. choosing reaction instead of pretending. 

"peter?" 

he pauses, his head whipping towards you. his eyes are as soft and loving as they always are--his attention remains the same, even when his energy doesn't. like he's wasting himself away just to take care of you. 

he swallows. "yeah?" 

"are you--" you blink, look away, try not to taste burnt brownies. "are you okay? you seem tired. was work… alright? 

peter smiles, shaking his head. "just the usual, bub. work and... work. i think i'll go to bed early tonight?" 

you raise a brow. 

peter clears his throat. "i mean, i think i'll take a nap tonight before i go out." 

you nod. "okay." 

you both stare at each other for a moment. he's far enough away that it's easier. you don't have to feel his emotions as he processes them. don't have to see them from up close. 

you hate yourself for being afraid of him. for being afraid for him. 

“d’ya want to join me?” peter asks, whisper slipping from his mouth, smile taunting from his lips. “we can cuddle and eat brownies.” 

you lick your lips, shaky smile enough. “you sure? i’ve heard i can be a bit distracting…”

peter’s laugh makes his shoulders shake. “you heard correctly,” he says eyes crinkled, “but i don’t mind.” 

you nod. you’re grateful for his ease. the careful reveal of his true face, the peeling of a mask. the admittance that not everything is perfect, no matter how small. 

“go shower. i’ll get the sugar.” 

peter kisses you on the cheek before he goes.

and at least you got a couple of smiles out of him. at least you can feel his kiss lingering on your skin. 

* 

it's not that serious. honestly. 

you hardly even think about it. you're not thinking about it. 

you're not dwelling on the smell of soft skin and the feeling of calloused hands running up and down your back, the tickle of a breath against your neck. 

you're not thinking about it at all. 

and if it's been a week--or a week and a half, or two, or three--since you last spoke, or shared the same space with peter, then it's fine. 

this is something you've grown used to. something you're supposed to be used to. 

peter has obligations. 

he has things he needs to fulfill--not just for himself, but for others, for the guilt that you can see rocking his bones all of the time, the shame in his eyes when he comes home a bit too early. he has places that he needs to be, if only because he won't be able to live with himself if he's not there. 

but then again, you're not sure how to live when he's not here. especially when the sink breaks. 

still, as long as you can feel him pull you into his chest every night, imagine him kissing your forehead before falling asleep, then it's fine. 

you're not thinking about any of it because it's fine. 

but you miss him. if only momentarily. 

he'll come back--you repeat this like a promise, like it's his voice whispering it to you--because he always does. 

space is good for the heart, some part of you swears. though you don't think you could think of peter any fonder than you already do. 

he comes in too late at night and is already gone when you wake up. he texts you updates--because you've talked about communication before--and tells you that he loves you through sweet little notes he sends during the day. 

if the thing he wishes to share about his life is the worm he found in his apple, then you're perfectly happy to listen (read). 

it's normal to miss the person you love most in the world. 

and it's normal for your boyfriend to disappear for fourteen hours each day, just barely cuddling with you for three hours before he's gone again. 

it's normal for you, at least

he’ll come back. 

and so, instead of thinking about peter, and wondering when he might notice the frayed edges of your relationship, you make sure that he doesn't have to worry about anything. 

you clean up after the two of you, running the dishwasher and cleaning the bathroom, and packing him lunch on days you know he'll be gone for the office. making sure there's always something he can eat in the fridge when he gets home late at night, and texting him to know what he wants from the store. 

you make the bed and wash his clothes and hope that maybe it'll keep him from burning out. 

you hope that maybe it will keep you distracted enough to not ask him for anything. like love or support or a five-minute conversation. 

if taking care of him is the only way to keep him going--the only way to keep yourself going--then you'll do it. peter takes care of you enough. 

but even if you're not thinking about it, it's there. 

because you've just fallen asleep--which is extremely rare recently, mostly because you like to wait until you hear the window and then slow your breathing until you feel peter crawl into bed with you--and just woke up. 

woke up with sweaty skin and a headache. it's night ten and you're getting nightmares again. 

it's ridiculous that you can't even last two weeks without peter there. without him kissing you to sleep. 

and when you burst out of bed, you almost fall into him--almost scream because you're sharing the bed with someone else. 

tears are running down your face. your heart feels split open--like your dreams have revealed something inside it. 

but you look over to peter and he's there; he's still here. 

so you take a deep breath--chest caving in, body following--and you rest your head in your hands. 

if there's anything you want right now, it's for peter to wake up. 

it's for him to know all of this. 

you want him to appear next to you, leaning over your back like he's going to shelter from the world if that's what you need. rubbing your back and whispering in your ear. you want him in your house and laughing when you break the shower rod again. 

you want him to cuddle with you before he leaves, and cross his heart when you scold him while he crawls out the window. 

you want him in more than just your memory. 

but peter is snoring next to you, and so you sit there in silence until the tears begin to ease.

*

peter's not supposed to be home. 

he works until five, and then takes the subway home--and you're not expecting to see him anyway. he's been shoving his suit into the bottom of his backpack right as you pull it out of the hamper.

so it's not that unusual for you to be laying in bed, shoes and socks kicked across the floor, hands gripping for some stability, and eyes puffy and red. 

and it's not that unusual for you to squeak when the window opens, and spider-man's head peeks into your room. 

you can feel peter's wide eyes behind the mask. 

you're quick to wipe your face, throw on a clumsy smile. "peter," you say, exhaling. "what're you doing here?"  

a body crawls into the window, dirt and grime on clothes finger-tips reaching out to you. "what's wrong?" he asks, voice only slightly muffled. 

but you take a step back, moving away from him when he lands on the floor, leaving spots for you to vacuum up later. 

"what're you doing here?" you repeat, voice a bit harsher, a bit faded. 

"i need--" he reaches his hand out toward you again, retreating when you do. "i needed some more web fluid. i don't--" he shakes his head. "what happened?" 

"i, um," you wipe traitorous tears away again. "i think there's some more in the closet. i keep moving it when i'm cleaning, sorry." 

"you're crying," peter scolds. like you're being ridiculous. like you're not trying to save him the effort it's going to take to fix this irrational piece of you, these lonely broken bits. 

you bite your lip and look away. 

because although you can't even see his eyes--they are still scolding. they are quick and cruel reminders that you haven't talked to peter in two weeks. 

you turn towards your bedside table, pretending to organize the contents on top. 

you can hear peter moving. 

"what's going on, bub?" he says, soft enough for the words to crawl under your skin. he's taken the mask off. his voice is clear. 

"oh, nothing, you know," you pause, shrugging. "just the usual sad movie type of cry..." peter's hand reaches your back and you flip around, almost knocking over your lamp. 

"c'mon," he whispers to you, far closer than you'd been expecting. 

you try and take a step back, only meeting a dead-end. he's cornered you. "you should go, peter. you were just--" 

"this is more important."

you laugh. "some silly tears are more important than a collapsing building?" 

"you're more important," peter swears, his eyes so focused on yours, "to me." 

you blink and shake your head. gesture back towards the window. "go and save some people. you don't have to help me too." 

peter swallows, brows furrowed. "will you tell me what's wrong?"

"i can take care of myself, peter. you don't need to worry about it." 

"well, i'm going to." 

you roll your eyes. and then you break free of his hold, moving away from the table, from the cage he's built around you. "move along, spider-man." 

peter doesn't move any closer, but his limbs are tense. his face is concerned and hurt--you try and shield that out.

"i'm not leaving you when you're crying."

"i'm not crying anymore." 

peter scowls. "stop deflecting." 

you take a deep breath, throat dry and aching. "i'm not--" you clear your throat, shaking your head and looking away from him. "i'm fine, peter. but some people actually need you. go and save the day," you tell him. "i'll still be here when you come back." 

*

and you are. 

you're sitting on the couch, staring at photos peter took on the wall, wondering how to explain any of it. 

how to explain yourself without digging the two of you any further in this hole. 

you've been trying to prove just how little you need peter--just how useful you could be--and by doing so, you've put yourself in this situation. 

because you do need him. you just hadn't wanted peter to know that. 

so you're sitting on the couch, trying not to flinch every time the air conditioning comes on, or there's a footstep from the apartment above you. you're waiting for peter to climb in through the window, waiting to see how exhausted he is before he has to deal with you. 

and you've bitten your lip raw. completely eliminated any evidence of fingernails you once had. 

your heart stutters with every minute that comes by. 

and when you finally hear peter hop in from the fire escape, your heart stops completely. 

you wonder if he's going to change before he comes and finds you. before the inevitable happens, and you give him another reason to work so late. 

your restlessness must be audible because it only takes peter forty seconds before walking into the living room. he's wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt. 

he's wearing a frown like a well-tailored suit. known and made for him. 

you're trying not to frown back. 

"hey," you say, putting on a smile, voice flighty and an octave too high. "everything okay?" 

"no one got hurt," peter says, the antonym to your tone. 

"good." 

apparently, your tight-lipped smile isn't enough to ease the tension in the room. 

"are you ready to talk?" peter asks, slowly stepping toward you, just barely meeting your eyes. 

you'd scrubbed your face after he left. sobbed in the shower as you washed away any of the shame you hadn't meant for him to see. you'd made sure that your eyes weren't puffy, and your eyelashes were dry before he'd got home. 

so when peter scans your face--as he's doing now--he shouldn't notice anything unusual. 

besides the facade you're putting on. 

you clear your throat, eyebrows lifted like you're unconcerned. "there's not much to talk about." 

peter's sullen face doesn't move an inch. "why were you crying?" 

"i already told you. i watched a sad movie," you wave a hand, "you just came in at the wrong time." 

peter sighs. he sits down on the couch next to you, keeping his distance. "don't lie." 

you frown. "i'm not lying." 

"you've got some pretty obvious tells, you know," peter whispers, giving you a hint of a bittersweet smile. "you don't have to talk to me. but i'd like it if you did. i just want to make sure that you're... okay." 

"i'm fine, peter." 

he looks away. "and if you're not then we'll figure it out. i just want to know." 

"well, you do." 

peter opens his mouth, then closes it, shaking his head. 

he's sitting three feet away from you, but his hands are clasped together, his legs are opposite of yours, and he can't even look at you. 

you can feel it, as you push him away. as you try so desperately to hold him close without touching him. 

"okay," peter says, eyes meeting yours again. "i don't want to push you." 

no, but he should pull you off of this ledge. should keep you from falling any further than you already have. 

you shake your head, laughing. it's not funny. 

"what?" 

you close your eyes. count to ten. forget how to breathe, or how to speak to the person you love most in this world. 

"what?" peter repeats, but softer. 

you open your eyes. 

and then it all crumbles. 

you scoff. "can you stop looking at me like that?" you plead, breaking away, physically distancing yourself from him. 

"like what?" 

it's his fault, really, for coming home so early in the day. 

"like you can't deal with this. like this is exhausting." 

the tears sneak up on you, knocking you out before you even notice that they're there. 

peter's eyes are wide as he stares at you. "you're not--" he swallows, frantically reaching towards you. "this isn't exhausting--i'm not--" a moment, tears beginning to fall. "what do you--" 

you sigh, shaking your head. "you're always gone, and you come home exhausted every night after you think i've fallen asleep, and you only talk to me through text, and even now you just--" you stop, voice breaking. "if you can't do this," you say, softly, "then you should just tell me." 

peter is closer than he was a moment ago. "what?" 

"i know this is a lot of work, okay? and i know that you're already pushing yourself, so it's fine if i'm too much. if--if loving me is too much." 

there's a moment of silence, and you're almost sure that peter has already left. 

but then there's a thumb wiping a tear from your cheek. you can't open your eyes, can't face the reality you've been desperately holding off. 

"you're not too much." 

peter moves closer to you, his leg touching yours, his hands moving so that he can hold you closer. 

you couldn't push him away if you tried. 

"you're not too much," he repeats, the words sinking into your skin, his breath meeting yours. "i can't believe you would think that." 

you half laugh, half sob. peter wipes away those tears too. 

"you're the only thing keeping me going," he tells you, kissing your forehead. "i'm sorry i haven't been there. i didn't realize..." he shakes his head. 

"you shouldn't have to take care of me as much as you do," you whisper. 

peter nudges his head against yours. "hey. you take care of me way more than i take care of you. you clean up after me and stay up with me when i can't sleep. you help fix my suits, and do all of the laundry. and you never complain. you're practically my guardian angel." 

"that's all easy." 

"not for me," peter says, voice lighter than before. 

you shrug. 

"but you do all of that cause you love me," he adds, kissing your forehead again. "or, i hope that's why." 

"it's the sex." 

peter laughs, nuzzling his head into you. "well, at least you're honest. but, it's the same reason that i take care of you. you shouldn't feel... guilty because of that. you're no burden on me." 

"no?" 

"absolutely not." 

you bite your lip. try and believe peter. but honestly, you're most lovesick from how close he's holding you. how you can feel his skin and listen to him speak somewhere that isn't your bed. you're not quite sure that this isn't a dream. 

"hey," peter moves his head so you're looking at him. "we suck." 

you laugh, leaning your forehead against his. 

"i'm sorry it's been so long since we've... anything. it's been a rough couple of weeks." 

"for me too. it's not your fault." 

"you have to tell me if it's not enough, okay? i don't want you to suffer through it by yourself. if you need to talk to me--even for ten minutes--then you have to let me know." 

"okay." 

"do you promise?" 

you nod against him, nose brushing his cheek. "i promise, peter." 

peter smiles, satisfied. he groans, pulling you even closer to him. "i love you, bug. so much." 

you can barely hear him because of how tight he's hugging you. it sort of hurts, but mostly heals. 

"i know," you say back. but peter probably can't hear you, because you say it right into his shirt. 

*

my masterlist here.

tags:@moonlarking-blog @v1ci0us @preciousbabypeter @alexxavicry @directioner5life @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah @localrockstargf  @thestudiouswanderer @take-my-hand-time-boy @thoughtsofagodlovingsunflower @nyomjoon  @moo-b1tch @raindropstearsandtea @rqmanoff @hollandweather @wetcoldnoodle @urlocalavenderhazestan @valvlry @imthatcoolmom @spideysimpossiblegirl    invisibletrolleyson-jeremy  @sharkswaters  @rowniebow @anaislfbv @take-my-hand-time-boy @mileyc111 @starsval @ratsys

[hisfavegiri]

One Mistake - Aemond Targaryen x Sister!Reader.

Warning : typical inscet Targaryen, angst, mentions of an affair, harsh language, mention of blood, miscarriage.

You looked at your husband with the knife still at his neck, your tears flowing freely. You ignore the screams of your mother and sister asking you to stay away from Aemond, you are really angry now that Aemond has crossed the line.

"What are you waiting for? kill me now” you could see Aemond smile a little and it made your stomach turn, how could he be this calm when there was a knife at his neck?

"You think I can't do it, huh? You're wrong husband, I really can" once again you pressed the knife deep into his neck which you guaranteed might have hurt him because you could see the change in his expression a second ago.

You continued to stare at him sharply and angrily, but suddenly you dropped the knife in your hand. You may be angry and disappointed, but you still love him. he looked at you in shock and you ran out.

You ignored everyone's whispers and stares as you ran towards your chambers, you no longer cared what they said. As soon as you enter your chambers, you throw everything and scream.

You ignore the knock that comes from outside the door, you feel empty, you feel weak, your husband, the person you love has a child with someone else. A bastard, news that you can deny as strongly as possible, but it turns out that today the woman, Alys, brought their son and you saw him. A son that Aemond longed for was in her arms.

Suddenly your world was destroyed, the dreams you had created together with Aemond suddenly collapsed. You kept crying and screaming until your throat felt hoarse, You decided to stay in your chambers, you wouldn't come out to anyone. even your mother and your twin sister.

“My love? can you let me in?” You hear the soft voice of your mother who has been begging you to come in for three days, but you still hold on firmly and don't let her in.

you can hear her breath before she knocks again, “you should at least eat, I'm worried about your health love.” You remained silent, you hadn't even touched the food she brought you yesterday.

when night falls, your mother still continues to persuade you to open the door. This time she was accompanied by your sister, Haelena. “y/n.. please open the door, talk to me” but they noticed that your chambers door was no longer locked.

When they opened the door to your room, your mother screamed hysterically when she saw your current condition. You are lying on the floor with blood coming out from between your legs, there are also bloodstains on your mattress, there are visible tear marks on your cheeks and soft sobs are also coming out of your mouth.

"M- mother.. what happened?" that's all you can ask, Haelena ran out to call the Maester while your mother shouted for Aemond. You slowly closed your eyes making your mother panic even more and suddenly everything went dark.

You lie on the bed, your mother and sister always visit and even accompany you. It's been almost two days since you were unconscious after that incident, the incident where you lost your first child who you didn't even know was growing inside you.

When you find out that you have just had a miscarriage, you feel very useless, you feel broken, and feel empty. you blamed yourself until your mother told the Maester to give you medicine to help you sleep.

You growled as you felt extremely dizzy, you blinked your eyes and looked around you. until your eyes fell on Aemond who was standing near the fireplace, he looked at you with a blank but sharp gaze.

“What are you doing here? I don't want to meet you” you spat at him as he walk closer to your bed. You were shocked when you felt his big hands grip your cheeks roughly, you looked at him with tears in your eyes.

“because of you, I lost my child. because of your stupid and childish attitude, I lost my heir”

You looked at him in disbelief and anger, tears rolling down your cheeks now. You let go of his hand with all the strength you have, you're angry, you're furious. Not only does he blame you but he also doesn't realize that the reason they lost their child was because of him.

“my fault? you blame me?! Don't you think Aemond!? why am I like that? you cheated and got that whore pregnant! you have a child with someone else! and you can still blame this on me?! Are you crazy!?”

you screamed in his face, your breathing was very irregular because you were angry. your eyes are red from crying, you can't understand how he could blame you?

“What?! now you can't talk huh? what I said is a fact! You got her pregnant and hoped I would forgive you because I love you?!? I'm not that stupid! I'm not like Haelena when she found out Aegon had many children from his whore, I'M NOT LIKE HER!”

Aemond just remained silent and continued to stare at you, he had no intention of replying to you and you hated that. you turned your head around when you heard your mother's voice “what is this? y/n darling? why are you screaming? you must rest"

You looked at him and smiled a little, before finally taking the knife that was on the left side of Aemond's body. Aemond was shocked and you pushed his body, he fell unguarded.

"I'm sorry if I was never the best daughter for you mother, I will always love you" before your mother and Aemond could take the knife in your hand, you had already slashed your neck.

Aemond captured your body, you could hear your mother's voice calling all the guards to immediately bring in the Maester. Aemond looked at you in shock and fear, you smiled and gently stroked his cheek. "I hope you are happy Aem, sorry I couldn't be a good wife for you" then your eyes close and slowly your hand fell from his cheek.

“no, no, no! don't you dare close your eyes! y/n! Forgive me! y/n! please come back!” Aemond shouted while hugging your body which was starting to get cold, he cried and whispered sorry repeatedly in your ear. when the Maester came, he told you that you were gone. and that night was the night Aemond lost the only person who truly loved him, you.

tag list - @danytar @looneytun3s @hangmanscoming @yazzzmints @julessworldd @eratosmusings (italic means that i can’t tag you)

[jade-len]

i adore how mxtx sorta flipped the idea on the whole top/bottom thing with svsss, and just BL relationships in general.

making bingqiu very open to switching, not making the "bottom" super feminine and actually leaning more to the handsome side compared to the "top", how luo binghe is manipulative sensitive and cries easily, etc. one of the main themes in svsss is literally about sexuality (and possibly even about gender roles).

as a queer asian man myself, i absolutely despise the "yaoi archetype" and it was one of the reasons why i avoided consuming BL media. hell, years ago when i first saw heavens official blessing, i mentally groaned and went, "ugh, let me guess, the bottom is super feminine and innocent, while the top is masculine and experienced." of course, that's not the case now, but it's disappointing how that thought was there purely because of the god awful way fetish-y media portrays homosexual people and couples. because, believe it or not, we are not assigned male/female typical gender roles just because one likes to top/bottom (and even then, it's not even like that! some people have preferences, sure, but it's not so strictly "i'm top/bottom")

so, while i absolutely LOVE the english novel designs (especially luo binghe's cute curly hair, gongyi xiao, etc, and personally believe a lot of the takes from the western artist on the designs are an improvement), i am greatly saddened by people subconsciously assigning shen qingqiu as someone more delicate and feminine and luo binghe as someone super masculine and muscly. like, if you're going to have luo binghe depicted as the western design (i believe this stems from binghe being applied to more western ideals for men, and, admittedly, i actually really love his design), at least don't make shen qingqiu feminine and delicate? don't have his appearance play into the stupid yaoi thing?

i get that people have different takes on svsss, especially how the western version depicts it. but, people just... seem to very over exaggerate the top/bottom roles when it comes to bingqiu (again, these two are, canonically, VERY open to switching).

it's weird, it's uncomfortable, and it comes across as, "so, who wears the pants in the relationship?"

so, can we please have more canonically handsome shen qingqiu? canonically beautiful and pretty boy luo binghe (they literallly state that binghe looks EXACTLY like his mom, su xiyan! while a more handsome woman, is still very beautiful!! plus it is stated several times that binghe is slim, and that shang qinghua made him that way!) or at the very least, a BL couple who actually look like normal people (ok thats a little hard considering binghe is literally supposed to be perfect) and not just a stupid fetishized version of themselves.

and no, i'm not saying that queer men shouldn't be feminine or men who are feminine shouldn't be in a relationship with guys who are masculine, etc.

TLDR: please stop twinkifying shen qingqiu and going against what mxtx defied for us queer men (the stupid yaoi roles). and for the love of whoever you believe in, do NOT think that i hate the english design or people's personal interpretation of characters, i just hate the subconscious assigning of gender roles to bingqiu and how media portrays and fetishizes LGBTQ+ relationships in general.

edit: also i love teardrew's (check them out on twitter!) interpretation of shang qinghua. while i do really like the the eng novel design's tiny scared hamster vibes, teardrew's version just radiates "up to no good, paranoid but suspicious looking bitch" rat man and i love it so so so much. i'm not gonna repost their art bc i don't know how they feel about that but perhaps you can search up "svsss designs" on here, you'll see it pop up eventually lol.

edit 2 (1/16): i just saw someone reblog a post (that im pretty sure was referring to this one because, well, if you saw it i think it'd be a little clear kahxj) that was about how bingqiu switching and completely eschewing traditional top/bottom dynamics was a fandom idea or smth? so now i'm wondering, since i swear i remember that they were open to switching, but it's just that sqq preferred to bottom and/or was just a little too lazy to top. plus, sqq is a pretty unreliable narrator who says he doesn't want something one moment and then he does. how could he say no to bingbing? esp if he seems to wanna try bottoming too. perhaps i'm mixing things up though, idk? so if anyone can find that passage that says he only and strictly wants to bottom or whatever please show me! but i think the point of this post still stands haha (i wanted to ask about it, actually, but when i clicked on the og post's user it turned out that they blocked me ? so that was a little surprising oops. hey if ur somehow reading this, im... sorry for making you want to block me bc of this post? akdhxjj)

[sky-kiss]

A/N: Apparently, there's been a lot of soft!Raphael lately. Allow me to rectify that. Ascended Fiend!Raphael and Haarlep hunt you in the dark. Hiding sin under the gif.

Fiend!R x GN!Reader, H x GN!Reader: Full Dark, No Stars 18 +

The world is absolute blackness. 

Not grayscale, not outlines, just shadow, magically dense. You hold your hand in front of your face; the heat is there, your other senses struggling to compensate for the sudden lack of vision, but everything else is gone. You're left to swallow, arms held before you, fumbling in the dark. 

Something shifts on your right. Only one footstep, as if they want you to hear. Infernal heat registers at your back, hands carding over your hips. Then it's gone. You're left rounding on nothing, breathing hard. 

Time lost so much of its meaning in the dark. You could have been minutes or hours. You know that your feet are sore. There's a dull ache in your feet from padding across the flagstones, an ache in your right arm after Haarlep wrenched you too harshly to the side. And the burn everywhere else from Raphael's insistent touch. 

They're hunting you. 

You shiver, scanning the blackness as if it will help. Both devils are unnaturally quiet. The ascended fiend's prodigious size does not slow it down. It moves with liquid grace, sinuous, on all fours rather than its typical upright posture. The sight makes something clench in your belly, fear finding its mate in arousal. It's Raphael stripped down to his basest essence, feral, infernal, and hungering. 

"Tsk-tsk, little mouse," Haarlep calls. They're somewhere on your left, closer than you'd expect. Something passes in front of you, and you stumble. A hand fists in your hair, yanking to keep you upright. Pain blossoms across your scalp, muted when they tip your head back. You open your mouth to respond, and the fiend takes full advantage, tongue pushing into your mouth. They nip your chin, chuckling, and then push you away. "You're slow, far too slow for a mouse. I'm disappointed." 

You keep very silent, very still, trying to orient yourself. 

Haarleep behind you, tail curling around your thigh. The tip strokes between your legs, pressing, prodding. Their voice dips to little more than a growl. "But, ah, I suppose you have other problems? And sweet Haarlep is the least of them." They jerk you back against their chest, arms a vice across your torso. Haarlep's nose tweaks against your cheek, the caress gentle. It contrasts the rasp of their voice, the erection digging insistently against your ass. "I am not in the habit of being ignored, pet. Just this once…I shall permit it." He groans, rutting against you. "Alas, our time is short. The Master comes. And he is so…" licking your cheek, licking into your mouth again. The sweetness of their saliva overcomes your better senses. "...hungry."

You feel Raphael's heat, a portent of things to come. He could be anywhere in the dark, but he's near, crouched low. You imagine him slinking through the darkness, tail cutting slow arches through the air, claws digging at the stone. 

Haarlep hums, giving you a playful pat on the stomach. "Be good for him, yes? He's waited so patiently. And we both know…the fiend has so little patience."

Their weight is gone again. You take three steps forward; the heat steadily mounts. Raphael howls in the dark. Close, how the hells can he be so close? You haven't heard a damn thing. 

And then there's teeth at your shoulder. Hot breath on your neck. A long tongue teasing the column of your throat. You inhale a stuttering breath, careful to stay very still. The fiend growls, pleased with itself as it scents the air. His senses are much sharper. Raphael hears the thundering of blood in your veins, your heartbeat. Smells your arousal. 

You muster up whatever courage you have left to run. 

You don't make it far. Not even a step. Raphael shrieks, the sound higher than you would have expected, clearly delighted. A hand curls around your midsection, stopping you cold. The claws bite against your skin but don't cut. Even in this form, he knows not to break you. He'll only bend. You squirm as it drags you nearer, bracketing you as it lays you on the cold stone. Its tongue is back on your skin, dragging down your stomach to your sex. 

It borders on too hot, but the wet heat and the pressure are too good to ignore. Raphael laps at you, tip prodding at your hole, pressing, pressure, until it can finally push inside. You're left to pant, thrashing under the weight of its hand as it settles over your chest, caging you.

The hunt is over. Raphael intends to feast.

[gooppoo]

hi! i love your writing so much, you’re really good at staying accurate to the characters! could you do jake being a little too rough during sex and you have to tell him to slow down and be a little gentler? 🤍

hell yeah.

Take it slow.

Requests Open!

mdni.

warnings: p in v intercourse, he takes it a little too far 🤷‍♀️, swearing, mild degradation

Usually you and Jake were relatively rough when it came to sex.

He had a high libido, and as a former marine, he naturally was more aggressive and direct. He felt he needed to prove how much he had to offer. That was no exception when it came to sex.

Tonight in particular.

Somehow your muscles kept you positioned on all fours, despite them being almost numb. Jake was delivering his typical crazed thrusts, digging his nails into your hips and creating an earth shattering collision. Your brain was rattling in your skull. Your groin was nearing exhaustion, but greedy enough to take what he was delivering to you.

"C'mon-c'mon!"

Jake reached for your braid and yanked it back to see your back bow. The sharp sensation made you yelp. A new angle was uncovered and had his length swiping past your hypersensitive spot.

He quickened with the new position, "Yeah that's right. Fuck baby girl, I didn't know you could do this to me".

Getting lost in his own actions, he mindlessly began to rut into you and let his eyes flutter close to be completely immersed. How were you still clenching around him?

"J-Jake-" you choked out, unsure if tears were streaming down your face, only able to focus on what was happening below your hips, "slow down."

"Can't hear you," he grunts, "Speak up kid."

It was just too much.

"Slow!" You wailed, arms giving way and your face finding solace in the cushion below.

Jake's eyes snapped open and he realized your spiritless, trembling figure. The way your back rose and fell in a weak attempt to regain the slightest bit of reality.

"Wait..." Jake started, slowing to a stop and running his hand down your back. He was in disbelief that he had taken it too far - the last thing he wanted to do was make this experience unbearable!

"Just," you huffed, "Just be gentle."

His ears flattened against his hair and his evil smile dropped into a disappointed frown. How could he have done this? To you of all, too!

"Y/n - I'm so, so sorry-"

You reached around and grabbed his hand.

"Jake, just go slow...please."

On a normal day, his roughness would be welcomed, encouraged with open arms...and legs. However, there was a very fine line he managed to cross, one that was simply too much.

Your mate nodded in understanding even though you couldn't see his distressed character. With more caution than necessary, he began to roll his hips and feel out your insides once more. When he heard you sigh he slowed his motions and dipped his head toward yours, laying kisses across the back of your neck and shoulders.

An alien alternate was introduced to you; a gentle giant. Someone who was able to slide in and out of you with passion but not fervor, tickling your skin with nails instead of biting.

"Mmm shit - how are you getting tighter-?" He growls near your ear.

Sometimes, slow and steady does the trick.

[suuuupernovaaa]

pxen

pxen [p’ɛn] n. functional clothing (item of)

Based on this request.

Lo'ak reaches out, touching the delicate woven poncho that his sister is wearing. It's not the kind of thing Lo'ak would typically notice, but something about it has caught his eye. There's a sparkle to it, something woven through the fabric that catches the light, very similar to the na'vi skin in the darkness of night.

"Where did you get this?" Lo'ak asks. Kiri looks down, and then shrugs.

"It was just with my stuff. It's really pretty, though. Tuk found one too... and mom."

"Huh," Lo'ak says, and his attention is then drawn to the carpet under his feet. A rug, brown and maroon, intricately woven and brand new. "This is new too, right?"

Kiri looks down, following her brother's gaze. "I think so. Looks clean."

"Huh," Lo'ak repeats, and then shrugs and moves on with his day.

xx

Even though I knew this day would come, I've been hoping to put it off for as long as possible. It isn't so much that I don't want to meet Neteyam's family, it's just that I'm worried to disappoint them.

As much as Neteyam hates it when I point it out, he's special. Not just because of the things I love about him, like his quiet sense of humor, his easy-going smile, his strength and his compassion.

He's special because of who he is, and who he was born to be. His birthright makes him special. Eldest son of Olo'eyktan. Were Neteyam ugly, harsh, stupid and cruel - the true opposite of himself - he would still be above my station.

He would still be too good for me.

And yet, here we are, walking hand in hand to meet his parents, so that he can introduce me as his betrothed. His intended mate. I had always told him I did not want his family to know about me, but never really told him why, until last night.

"Why now?" Neteyam had asked when I told him I was finally ready to meet his parents, moments after he took my hands into his and asked me to be his mate for life.

"Because I know now, truly that you love me. I don't need to be afraid anymore."

He had shaken his head and brushed a tear from my cheek. "I've loved you since the moment we met."

So now we approach their home, and even though I am secure in my relationship with Neteyam, I am nervous about being accepted into their family. He reassures me over and over that they will love me as he does, they will be thrilled for us, but it doesn't stop me from feeling sick to my stomach.

"Neteyam!" Taruk Makto is the first to greet him as we enter their tent, looking up from where he sits, and it's overwhelming to be in such close proximity to our clan leader. I bow my head as he looks from me to Neteyam and back at me again. His wife, Neytiri, is seated at his side, and turns her attention away from the arrows she is sharpening to look at us.

"Dad," Neteyam says, "Mom. I want to introduce you to Y/N."

He lets go of my hand, and places his arm around my waist, pulling me close to him. After only a moment of hesitation, Neteyam's parents rise to their feet. As they do, I feel movement behind me, and glance to see Neteyam's siblings entering.

Kiri is wearing the shawl I made for her, and Tuk has a dressing wrapped around her tail that I crafted. Beneath our feet, I notice a rug I just finished a few days ago. It makes me feel a little more at ease and at home, to be surrounded by my creations.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N," Olo'eyktan says, and I touch my fingertips to my forehead, and then bring them down in a formal greeting. I repeat the gesture for Neteyam's mother.

"I've been, uh, spending a lot of time with Y/N. She's really wonderful. She's better on the loom than anyone else in the clan. She made the rug we stand on, and Kiri's poncho, and many other things I've brought home. She was just too, uh, shy to own up to her talent."

Neytiri turns around, looking on a nearby table, and grabs another poncho I made. This one is green, more earthy than the sparkly one Kiri is wearing.

"This, too?" Neytiri asks, and I nod. "This is beautiful. They're all beautiful. Truly, unlike anything I've seen. You made these?"

"I did," I reply a little nervously. "I wanted to give them to you myself but, since we hadn't be introduced, I had Neteyam bring them to you."

"I asked Y/N to be my mate last night, and she said yes," Neteyam says suddenly, and a hush falls over the room.

I can feel my heart pounding in my chest, wondering which way their reactions will go.

Confusion? Anger? Disappointment?

"Wow, that's insane!" comes a cry from Lo'ak, and he reaches out, extending his arms to me for a hug. "Another sister, I guess! I mean, I've got enough, but you seem okay." He wraps me in strong arms, and I return the hug, so grateful that he's broken the silence.

When Lo'ak releases me, I turn anxiously to see Neteyam's parents, and the scene is exactly what I would have dreamed up if I hadn't been too scared to imagine this day.

Netytiri holds her eldest son in her arms, and over his shoulder, she smiles serenely at me. Jake has his hands outstretched, one on his wife's shoulders, the other on Neteyam's.

"I wish you had brought her here sooner, so we could get to know her!" Neytiri says.

"You guys are scary," Neteyam replies, and his father laughs. Neytiri reaches out, extending a hand to me, and I place my hand in hers.

"I have known something was going on with my son. He is as happy as he has ever been, smiling like a moron from morning until night. I was waiting for this moment." She holds one of my hand in both of hers, grinning at me. "You are welcome in our family. Now we can give you gifts in return, for the beautiful things you have given us."

I shake my head, feeling embarrassed at the tears pricking behind my eyes. "No, you don't have to do that. I like making those things."

Our chief hugs me next, quickly and a little awkwardly, and the relief I feel is palpable.

Quick acceptance is a surprise. I had imagined at least a little resistance, but I hadn't counted on Neteyam's parents putting his health and happiness above all else.

How could I? I didn't know them, hadn't known that besides being Olo'eyktan and the next Tsahik, Neytiri and Jake were just parents who loved their children.

We leave the tent much later, after hours of talking and celebration, and before we get too far away, Neteyam pulls me into his arms and presses his lips to mine in what feels like a long overdue kiss.

"I knew they would love you, just as I do," he whispers, his lips still touching mine.

[hugmekenobi]

Return to the Light

A Bad Batch Post S2 Oneshot

Gif by @spacemagicandlaserswords

Hunter x femaleJedi!reader

Summary: Being separated from one another had taken it's toll and the search had been hard but in all the darkness, a glimmer of hope remains

Warnings: Mentioned canon-typical violence, swearing, my made-up timeline, limited use of y/n, some choice interrogation techniques, sad flashbacks, mentions/descriptions of torture, mentions of death, mentions/descriptions of injury and sickness, reader is not in the greatest of headspaces and takes it out on Lyra, talks of self-sabotage/sacrifice and self-loathing, my interpretation of all things Force, dodgy Star Wars medical techniques, slight manipulation/miscommunication, kissing, overall a pretty angsty time but there's some fluff sprinkled in

Masterlist for S1 and S2

Word Count: 18.2K (don't look at me, idk what happened lol)

Rating: 18+

Author's note: Huge shoutout and thanks to my friend @burningfieldof-clover who supported and provided many helpful tips as I struggled though this!! And its finally here! I am so sorry it took so long but I hope you all enjoy it despite the wait! I have another one planned to follow that hopefully will not take as long haha so I'm excited to get to work on that too! Also praying that by posting this, I can manifest a S3 trailer haha

Nelvaan

Ever since the disaster of Ord Mantell and from the second they’d managed to flee; Hunter had been doing everything he could to find you and Omega again. He’d tormented himself with the various possibilities of what could be happening to the two of you. Every day he’d been apart from you both had seen him fighting with himself. Possible informants and Imperial soldiers he could cope with just fine, what had been proving to be a struggle was fighting the complete hopelessness that had overwhelmed him as the weeks dragged on with no sign or information on the whereabouts of either of you. Every failed lead had left the bitter taste of disappointment and there were times when he felt like he would be crushed by the weight each defeat brought.

Things had started to shift however when they came across the various wanted posters and holoimages of you that were strewn across the galaxy, particularly in the Outer Rim. So, when Echo had decided to do some work on his own and went back to working with his contacts within the Empire and reported back that you hadn’t actually been taken, he’d felt that flicker of hope he hadn’t been able to find for a long time and the plan changed. Echo would continue to utilise his allies in the search for Omega whilst he and Wrecker looked for you. Once Hunter had you back, the four of you would reconvene and find Omega.

To get to Omega, they needed your skills and… and Hunter just needed you but there were moments in the early stages of the search where it seemed impossible. Knowing you were out on your own helped with finding his way out of the darkness but knowing you were alive and finding you alive were very different things, the latter was proving to be incredibly challenging.

You may had stopped hiding what you were, but you were remarkably good at making an impression somewhere but still finding a way to go unseen. Every location they’d gone to, they’d been too late, and you appeared to have moved on. You never stuck around anywhere for too long and it was making things a lot harder.

The most recent trail of half-baked information he and Wrecker had followed had led them to this pawn shop- ‘Hidden Gems’. According to rumour, you’d been in asking about them, yet another piece of knowledge that only added to his frustration that they always seemed to miss you by a matter of weeks. Hunter opened the door, but the owner’s back was still turned to them as they pashed the threshold.

Kedrin heard the bell clang as the door opened and shut. “I’ll be with you in a flash.” He said as he finished writing up the recent sales. He closed the book and turned around with a salesman smile on his face, but that and his words of welcome instantly died on his lips as he saw who had walked in.

Immediately upon seeing these men, Kedrin was reminded of a description given to him a while ago by the Jedi everyone had been talking about and he did not want them here. He did not want to deal with this anymore. “Ah, well actually gentlemen, I was just closing up for the afternoon. You’ll have to come back.” He said, wringing his hands nervously as the bigger one split off and began wandering the shop whilst the one with the bandana stayed where he was.

Hunter leaned his back against the door and lazily played with his vibroblade. He knew by the beads of sweat on the owner’s brow and the anxious pounding of his heart that they were in the right place. “Where is she?” He asked, his voice low and hostile as he turned the sign from open to closed, his eyes never leaving the owner.

Kedrin retreated to behind the counter. “I um…” His throat was as dry as sand and he swallowed to get some moisture back so he could speak properly. “I don’t know who-” He cleared his throat again. “Who you are referring to. Perhaps-”

“There’s not point in lying to him. If I can tell you are, he definitely can.”

Kedrin’s eyes darted to the bigger one who had offered the advice, but he had to bring his attention back to the tattooed soldier who was staring at him with such cold and dark eyes that fear creeped up his spine, making his hair stand on end and goosebumps rise on his flesh.

“Where is she?” Hunter asked again as he pushed off the door and steadily walked towards the man.

“I’m- I’m afraid I don’t- don’t have the answer you seek.” Kedrin stuttered. As the soldier drew closer, Kedrin reached under the table and grabbed the blaster he kept concealed there. But, as he lifted it out, in the blink of an eye, the weapon was shot out of his hand and his head was smacked down and being pressed harshly into the countertop- a strong hand on the back of his neck reducing his struggles to break free to be no more than a pitiful effort. His resistance ceased altogether when he felt the sharp tip of a blade being pushed into the back of his hand and he cried out in discomfort as the metal broke the skin and blood began to spill from the cut but there would be no respite for him.

“Try again.” Hunter hissed as he brought his head down to the man’s level.

But all Kedrin could do was whimper in pain.

“She was here. We know she was here. Where did she go?” Hunter growled into his ear, applying more pressure to the point of the blade, ignoring the agonised yelp.

“I don’t know!” Kedrin protested in distress, his voice slightly muffled as his lips touched the cold material of the counter. He hated this part of the job, it wasn’t his fault he had access to other ports of information, it just worked out that way and for the most part he hadn’t gotten into too much bother. But ever since that Jedi woman had come to him with her threats, he’d vowed to himself that he would turn over a new leaf. He’d leave this element of his work behind, and he wouldn’t just be a pushover to whatever or whoever came in demanding his extra services. He felt the hand leave the back of his neck. He uneasily straightened up and tenderly analysed his injury on his hand but was grateful to see that it had felt and looked worse than it was. He took out a handkerchief from the lapel of his jacket and wrapped it up before he tidied his hair in an attempt to regain some calm and control over the situation. “Now, I ask that you leave this instance before I call the proper authorities.” He demanded, but he couldn’t shake the quiver in his speech which removed any forcefulness. He walked around the counter and gestured to the door.

Hunter ignored his requested. He simply took a step back and nodded sharply to Wrecker who cracked his knuckles and neck in intimidation.

Well, he could always start next week. “Wait wait wait! I actually might have something!” Kedrin back peddled fearfully as the larger one stalked towards him and grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket, raising him to his tiptoes. “My brother runs our partner pawn shop on Christophsis and he’s said there’s been Jedi activity there. Apparently, it’s been going on for a while now. Could be who you’re looking for?”

Wrecker glanced back at Hunter who signalled to him to drop the man.

Hunter silently turned on his heels and led the way out of the shop and back to the Marauder. He’d been powerless for far too long and had failed one too many times but that wasn’t going to happen anymore.

This time they weren’t going to miss you.

--

Christophsis

When the hour had finally got late enough, you grabbed your blaster and sheathed your vibroblade and made the final adjustments to your armour before you sneakily opened your door to dark and empty main room of the run-down apartment. You pulled your hood and mask up as you stepped out and headed for the exit.

You got as far as activating the panel for the door to open before the lights turned on.

“You’re going out again.”

You closed the door and huffed out an irritated breath. You swivelled on your heels to see Lyra standing in the doorway of her room. You tugged down your mask. “Yeah… and?”

“And I thought after the last time, you were going to take some time and-”

“You know I can’t do that.” You interrupted icily.

“You’ve barely recovered. I just think-”

“I’ve recovered enough.”

“It’s just one more night. If not for your sake, then do it for mine… please.”

“We’ve already settled here for you, didn’t we?” You retorted.

“After I begged you too! If it were up to you, we’d still be living on that hellhole of a ship and never staying anywhere for more than two weeks! And I don’t know if what we have right now is all that better!”

“I gave you an out months ago! Back on Ord Mantell and again on Corellia! You didn’t have to follow me!” You snapped angrily.

Lyra scoffed. “Corellia was when you finally deemed it fit to fill me in on the whole story after I saw you choke the life out of a man without laying a hand on him. I had known something was off in the weeks since Ord Mantell and then Corellia told me you needed someone. Forgive me if I wanted to stick around to try to help you!”

“I don’t need saving.” You said tightly. “And anyway, he got what was coming to him.” You said utterly uncaring with a simple shrug of your shoulders. “Now, can I go now? Are you done scolding me?”

Lyra looked at you imploringly. “Don’t you see what this is doing to you? You’re losing who you are and it’s-”

You couldn’t listen to the speech again. “I’m not doing this with you again, Lyra. Just go back to bed and I’ll be back later.”

Lyra looked at you in disbelief. “Later? Last time you said that I didn’t see you for three weeks and you came back tortured and half-dead! You’re no good to them if you die in the process of finding them!”

You just shook your head and lifted your mask and turned to open the door again.

“I can’t watch you kill yourself for this anymore.” Lyra said quietly to your back, her words laced with pity and sadness.

“Then don’t look.” With that, you stepped outside into the night.

--

Kirion stepped into the small kitchen in the back of his shop and sifted through the second cupboard. Instinct meant he didn’t need the light and he found what he was looking for.

“Trouble sleeping?”

Kirion yelped and dropped his mug. It smashed to the ground but that was not his concern anymore. The dark outline by the window was. “I don’t want any trouble.” His voice trembling.

“Do you know what they say about people who can’t sleep at night, Kirion?” You asked as you hopped off the counter, the yellow hue of the streetlights coming through the window illuminating your figure.

“N- no.”

“Plagued by a guilty conscience. The crushing weight of knowing you’re not doing enough, or you’ve gone too far can get to you. Or say, being a pawn shop owner intent on ripping everyone off for that extra bit of profit.”

Kirion cleared his throat nervously. He didn’t know how you knew that, but you’d gathered quite the reputation in the time you’d lived here, and he didn’t want you around. “Why are you here then?” He asked shakily. “Guilty conscience too?”

You laughed humourlessly. “You get the pleasure of my company because you have something for me.” Somewhere deep down, you had a different answer, but you wouldn’t allow yourself to bring that to the surface. It would get you nowhere.

“I don’t. I swear I-”

“Oh, this’ll go a lot better if you don’t lie to me.” You said, your voice hardening. You patted him roughly on the shoulder as you stepped past him.

“I don’t know if I have the information you’re looking for.”

“You know who I am?” You flicked the light on and waltzed into the storefront filled with clear glass cases with various pawned off items. Heirlooms, artifacts, jewellery, random items- all seemed to have a place here, whether they were genuine or not. You beckoned him to come in.

“It’s um kind of hard not to.” He wringed his hands anxiously as he followed you in and signalled to the front of the store. He took that opportunity to press the button under the table by the credit register.

You followed his stare and chuckled as you saw the backs of the posters in the front window. “I can sign one for you later.” You started scanning variety of items he possessed. “Quite the business you’ve got here.”

“Keeps-” He swallowed nervously. “Keeps the credits coming in.”

“Shame a lot of it is all garbage.” You smashed your elbow against one of the glass panels. “Anakin Skywalker’s lightsaber?” You snickered as you picked up the item and sure enough, you got nothing from it. “Please. Nothing here but a bunch of dressed up metal material and a design anyone with access to an old holonet could copy. Then again, you probably knew that, but it doesn’t stop you underpaying for it and then charging a steep fee for the poor sucker that falls for it.”

Kirion gulped as he watched you continue your assault on his store.

You shattered a few more glass panes with claims of ‘Jedi artifacts’ in them. “Some of this is just embarrassing. You actual convince people that this stuff is worth the price?”

“What do you want?” Kirion interjected swiftly as he saw you getting ready to break another one.

You paused your movement and angled yourself to face him. You mimed applause. “That’s the right question. See, you gave yourself away earlier, Kirion. I’d expect you to know who I am, but to know that I’m after information? You had no way of knowing that, not officially and it’s the fact that you do know, that makes you of use to me.”

“Of use?” Kirion repeated fretfully.

You stalked closer to the desk register, the broken glass crunching beneath your feet. “You run this place in a back alley and get everyone from all walks of life coming in here pawning off their shit that you then rip off, but I really don’t give a fuck about that. What I do give a fuck about is that you hear things. People will tell you their stories, the things they’ve seen and overheard in the streets or on their travels. You are a fountain of knowledge of the underground happenings in this galaxy. Or, at the very least, you know people that run in the circles that have what I’m searching for.

“I-”

You placed a finger on his lips to shush him. “Here’s how this will work: So long as you don’t lie to me, and you don’t call the Empire, I won’t hurt you and you get to keep your life. Are we clear?” You removed your finger.

“C-crystal.” Kirion stuttered, very much regretting what he’d done in the beginning of this meeting.

“Good.” You released a short breath. “Now, I’m looking for a group of clones. They don’t look like the ones you may come across these days, rare as that seems to be now. One wears a red bandana and has a tattoo on the left-side of his face. Looks like this.” You pointed to the white insignia on your top. “But it’s black. The other is tall and bald with a scar on his left temple and he’s blind in his left eye. Heard of anyone like that?”

“I don’t know. No one like that’s come here.” Kirion shifted his feet awkwardly.

You tossed your head back in aggravation. “I really don’t have time for this.” You summoned the Force and lifted him against the wall and started to compress his airway. “I told you; I don’t like liars.” You gave him a pitying stare as he couldn’t help but clutch desperately at his throat. “Wanna try again?” You relaxed your hold slightly to give him the chance to speak.

“Okay- they- they- could be- be- coming here.” He gasped.

“They’re coming here?” You double checked as you eased your grip and let him get his feet back on the ground.

Kirion panted as he felt the invisible hold around his neck loosen. “Yes, my other store got a visit from some men that match what you’re saying. The manager there told them there was a Jedi here and called me earlier to let me know they might pass this way. That’s all I know, please, get out!”

You narrowed your eyes at him because despite his now honest words, you could tell he was getting anxious, and it wasn’t all because of you now. It was then that you heard the familiar pounding footsteps grow closer and halt outside the front door. You released an exasperated sigh and tutted. “Kirion… I thought we had an understanding.”

“No- wait! I-”

You called on the Force and snapped his neck before he had a chance to finish his plea and a second later, you heard the door crash open.

“You’re-”

“Under arrest?” You finished as you watched Kirion’s limp body slide to the floor. You heaved a sigh and turned to face the squad of ten stormtroopers that were lining the rows and blocking the path between you and the door.

“Get-”

“On my knees? Place my hands behind my head?” You interrupted, boredom evident in your tone as you crossed your arms and leaned against the till counter.

The troopers faltered slightly at your blatant dismissiveness of them.

You pretended to look confused for a moment. “Now, I can never keep track of where the Empire is in that whole phasing out thing so I always gotta ask this- any of you got a CT number?” You straightened up and hovered your hand over your blaster. “It’s always much simpler when none of you do.”

“Last chance, Jedi!” One of them called out as they readjusted their stances.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “Yeah… you all say the same thing.”

--

You quietly walked into your place and pulled your hood and mask down, ignoring the sting of pain as the material caught on the cuts on the bridge of your nose and your lip. You ran your tongue along your mouth and could still taste the harsh metallic taste of blood as it continued to ooze from the wound. Your nose was also still bleeding so you turned on the dim kitchen light to find something to stop it.

“Thought you’d be outta here by now.” You commented cooly without looking up as you heard her door open, and the soft padding of footsteps walk towards you. You fished out a cloth and ran it under some cold water and wiped away the congealed blood on your face before you held it to your nose.

“We don’t have a ship anymore, remember?” Lyra reminded you as she sat by the small kitchen table.

You’d forgotten about that. After the two of you had found this place, you’d sold it to someone who claimed to have word from Hunter. Unfortunately, that had turned out to be a rather bad deal and it was your first experience of dealing with the Imperials stationed here. “There are transports.”

Lyra just shook her head at you. “You still don’t get it.”

“Don’t really see what there is to get. Just hop on the next ship outta here, I won’t stop you.”

“I care about you, dumbass. Whatever is happening to you, I can’t just leave you alone in it.” Lyra replied wearily. Part of her wanted to, she’d even started packing a bag this time, but after these months spent with you and especially after what you went through recently told her you were one step away from a full-on breakdown and whether you would admit it or not, you still needed someone.

You ground out a sigh and stared down at the floor. She kept doing this. She kept having that faith in you that you couldn’t see but you didn’t deserve it. She should leave, she’d be better off without you but you didn’t have it in you to give her that final push. So, you worked on freezing her out, pushing her away until she realised you weren’t good for her or anyone else. But she refused, she was still here with you, and you couldn’t fathom why.

“Did you get what you were looking for?” Lyra asked, deliberately avoiding asking the state of the people that had clearly got in your way tonight. She’d seen what you were capable of but found that living in as much ignorance as she could saved her a lot of trouble. That and reminding herself you were not yourself right now.

“Yup.” You rinsed out the cloth and got ready to move into your room.

“I need to check your stitches. You weren’t ready for a fight yet.”

You knew what she would find if she looked. “No, you don’t.”

“(Y/N), let me see.” Lyra caught your arm as you went to move past her.

You huffed out another irritated breath but took your armour off before you lifted your first layer over your head. “Knock yourself out.”

She pushed up your vest top. “Yeah, you ripped a few open.” Lyra winced as she saw the lines of blood secreting from the sore and irritated looking now open wounds on your back.

“It’s fine.” You said dismissively. The pain wasn’t bothering you. You needed to come up with a plan of how to know when they got here.

“It’s not. Sit down.” She insisted as she went for the medkit. She had gotten well-acquainted with the item over the months, the most recent incident in particular had really tested her skills.

You released a resigned sigh and sat across from her and let her start cleaning them and closing them up again.

“They’re coming here, Lyra.” You found yourself whispering into the silence.

Lyra paused her process. “You’ve been told that before. The same thing happened on Cermau a couple months ago and it didn’t pan out. You-”

“I know what happened on Cermau. This isn’t like that.” You said defensively. It had to be different. You thought to yourself. You weren’t sure how many more dead ends you could take.

Lyra finished up the last few stitches. “You can’t know that.”

As soon as you felt her complete that last stitch, you stood. “Yes, I can.” You grabbed your armour and strode had over to your room without another word and shut the door.

You braced your hands against it and took a few deep breaths. You did have a way you could do but it had been so long since you’d gone near it, and you didn’t know if you could cope with the failure it might bring.

--

You settled in the middle of your crappy bed, the mattress sinking to the bedframe beneath as you shifted around to attempt to find some level of comfort. When you had found what you figured would be the ‘best’ spot, you crossed your legs and placed your hands on your knees.

You inhaled slowly, deeply, blocking out all the distractions of your mind and the sounds of the late-night life outside, and closed your eyes. You reached into the Force but what met you wasn’t any familiar signature. It was scenes and voices that you had tried so hard to forget.

Flashes of the people you’d hurt… you’d killed.

All that happened to you a week ago.

Tech hanging below the rail car.

Plan 99.

Omega, unconscious and injured on the ground.

Such an exquisite creature.

The torture he made you go through... and enjoyed.

His words to Hunter- To lose one of your own, it must weigh heavily on you as their leader.

Omega being carried off.

Hemlock letting you and Hunter have one last goodbye before you were taken away.

I love you.

No, it was too much. You couldn’t do it. Your breathing was shaky as you tore yourself out. You wiped the cold sweat from your palms. “Come on, get it together.” You told yourself as you took a long calming breath. You needed to do this right.

You centred yourself and went again. Except this time, all you could see was a vast space of darkness. No light, no hope, only darkness. Was this to be your fate? To be tormented by the fact you had let yourself fall and there was nothing left for you. How could you find them in this? You had no light left in you to give.

Spark.

You felt yourself twitch in discomfort. You knew that voice. That name. Only one person ever called you that.

Spark, you’re still not focused.

Let go of your anger. You’re not as lost as you view yourself to be.

No, no it couldn’t be. How could it be? No, this wasn’t right. You pulled yourself out and you looked around your room in a blind panic as you fought to get your distressed breathing back under control.

But it was only you in there. How could you hear him? It had to be some trick your mind was playing on you. Payback for all you’d done.

You exhaled heavily and braced your hands behind your neck as you looked to the ceiling. You stood and paced the confined space, shaking your hands as if you could shake away the bad feeling sitting on your chest.

You sat back on the bed and rolled your shoulders as you found your focus again. Faint rays of sun now came through the cracks in your window along with the sound of rain pattering against the fractured glass, but the new time meant nothing to you.

You didn’t care how long it would take; you were going to find them.

--

Hunter and Wrecker walked out of the ship and departed the bay to enter the streets of Christophsis- the rain sliding down their armour as they moved between the crowds.

“Well, we’re in the right place.” Wrecker commented as he nudged Hunter in the direction of the first holoscreen that had your image appear and a quick look at the immediate buildings followed that theme since they all had multiple paper posters in their windows and on their doors.

Hunter swallowed tightly as he saw holographic picture of you. There’d been one too many ‘right places’ in his search for you. He wasn’t going to accept that philosophy until he had something more than a wanted sign for you. “Come on. We’ll start with Kendrin’s brother.”

--

“So, you’re saying you saw a figure head in that direction after the disturbance last night?” A trooper pointed in said direction as she questioned the current resident on her list whilst the rest of her squad proceeded to clear the pawnshop.

“This looks like her handiwork, Sarge.” Wrecker uttered from the corner of the street they were observing from as he studied the scene ahead. Squads of troopers had cornered off the street and where questioning the civilians that appeared to live in the neighbourhood. And being carried out on stretchers were the dead bodies of troopers, but not all had blaster burns on their armour.

Hunter nodded his agreement and felt his heart beat that little bit faster with the flutter of hope. “Come on, we can’t stay here too long.” He directed as he and Wrecker turned away from the pawnshop.

As Hunter began to track your movements based on what he’d heard the trooper say, this finally being the right location was starting to feel a lot more plausible now.

--

There it was! You saw that faint glimmer of light in all the dark. It had to be them! You could feel it!

You jumped from your bed and grabbed your top and armour, hastily putting them on as you opened your door and bolted for the exit.

--

The weather had taken a turn for the worst, but you barely registered the pouring rain as you left the building. Your clothes were already soaked but it didn’t matter, you were too focused on holding onto that feeling of them.

“You’re the Jedi everyone is searching for.”

You whipped out your blaster and turned in the direction of the voice.

“No, wait! I don’t mean you any harm!” She came out from behind the skip with her hands in the air. “My name is-”

“Don’t tell me.” You interrupted sharply as you studied the Twilek before you. “How’d you find me?” You asked coldly. You didn’t lower your blaster either.

“It wasn’t easy. I’ve been following you since I knew of your arrival here. I thought I’d lost you when you disappeared for those three weeks.”

The fact you hadn’t sensed her presence at all told you that you were not what you used to be. You never used to be so sloppy. “I can’t have you knowing where I am.” You rested your hand over the trigger.

“Wait!” She reached a hand out to you. “I haven’t told anyone, and I won’t. I just need your help!”

“My help?” You repeated. “I can’t help you and I’ve got somewhere to be so-”

“Please.” She begged. “My sister, she’s sick and we barely have enough credits to feed ourselves, let alone get medicine.”

“Not my problem, I’m sorry.” Satisfied though that she wasn’t a true threat, you put your blaster away and got ready to leave.

“It wasn’t my sister’s problem that she got caught in a blaster fight and her wound got infected! No one asks for that!”

That made you pause. You’d had your fair share of shootouts in this place but you’d also you’re your best to minimise the damage to outsiders. “Where was the fight?” You found yourself asking quietly.

“About a month ago by the old shipyard on the outskirts of the city. We’d been told we could find some cheap transport off world, but something went down with the Imperials stationed there and my sister… I didn’t tug her down fast enough. I didn’t know what to do and then I heard of the Jedi that had landed in Christophsis and I knew I had to find you.”

A month ago… but that was where and when you’d gone to sell the ship… where’d you’d first been ambushed by the Imperials… no, there wasn’t meant to be anyone else there. Maybe you could… no, you didn’t have the time. Your aim was always good, it wouldn’t have been your shot that hit her. “I can’t.” You said dismissively, but there was a fading sense of conviction in your voice. Some part of you wanted to do the right thing by her. But it wasn’t enough to stop you pushing past her.

“I thought Jedi helped people!”

You stopped in your tracks and made a noise of resigned frustration as you turned around to face the young Twilek. “Wait here.”

You hastily ran back into your building, silently entered, and grabbed a few spare medical supplies from your kit before you ran back out to meet her again. “Alright, show me.”

--

Your place looked like a luxurious penthouse compared to where this young twilek and her sister were staying. It was virtually a single room with cracks in the walls and ceiling and there was a distinct damp aroma in the air. It was no wonder that they wanted to leave this place.

You then saw the smaller and younger twilek lying on a small mattress in the middle of the floor. There were drops of sweat dotted across her brow and she was shivering uncontrollably.

You’d never wanted anyone innocent to be affected by what you were doing yet it had happened with Lyra and now this child. “I’m sorry.” You whispered to her as you kneeled down beside her. You saw the bloodstain on her clothing and delicately lifted the end of her shirt to see the wound on her hip being covered by nothing more than a ripped piece of a shirt.  

“Can you help her?”

You half- turned to face the sister who was looking on fretfully. “I can clean the wound and reclose it. After that, it’ll be down to her. But the fact that she’d held on for so long is a good sign. She’s strong, she should be okay.”

The sister sighed in relief.

You brought out the supplies and recleaned and applied to bacta before you re-dressed the wound. “Do you have water?” You asked.

The sister nodded and dashed over to grab a cannister. She passed it to you.

“Lift her head.” You instructed gently.

She murmured words of comfort to her sister as she propped up her head.

As tenderly but as effectively as you could, you pushed the pill past her lips and got her to swallow it down with some water.

When her breathing had grown more controlled and her shivering had subsided, you go to your feet. “I’m leaving you some bacta and wound dressings along with some pills that’ll help with the fever. That’s all I can do now.”

“Thank you.” She clasped your hand tightly. “I won’t forget this.”

“It’s better that you do.” You said grimly. “And once she’s better, if you still need a way out of here, use the actual transports off this planet.” You chucked a bag of credits on the ground before you walked out of the room.

You rounded the corner but swiftly pressed your back against the wall since there was a group of stormtroopers directly in your path. You would have no chance of finding them with those soldiers in your way. You needed to find a way around them and what better way to do that than going from roof to roof. You summoned the Force and jumped to the top of the building and got moving.

You would get a better view from above anyway.

--

When another small squad of troopers made their presence known ahead, Hunter signalled him and Wrecker to an alleyway out of the line of their sight. He knew they were close to you, but the Imperial presence was making it hard to track you effectively.

“We can’t keep hiding like this, Hunter.” Wrecker grunted in frustration.

“I know, Wrecker.” Hunter agreed, equally as irritated. “If I could just-” He stopped suddenly.

“Hunter?”

“Someone’s here.” Hunter muttered quietly as his hand fell over his blaster.

“You’re getting sloppy, Sergeant. I’ve been following you the past 3 blocks.”

The voice that he’d been longing to hear and that was so familiar, he’d recognise it anywhere. His breath hitched with the realisation at what this finally meant. Hunter took off his helmet and turned around to the distant sound of feet hitting a puddle in the ground. And it was you. Standing there before him. It was finally you.

“Hello, Hunter.” You said softly, so softly you could barely hear the words themselves due to the sound of your own heart thundering in your ears. If it wasn’t for the flash of recognition in his eyes or the way Wrecker’s jaw dropped as he propped his helmet atop his head, you wouldn’t have been certain that you’d said anything at all. You tugged down your coverings and let yourself be unprotected to the rain.

He felt like the air had been punched out of his lungs. Hunter dropped his helmet and something akin to a choked gasp fell from his mouth as he could at long last lay his eyes on you. He started to slowly walk towards you but that soon became a run, water kicking up against him, but he didn’t care.

Your feet slapped against the wet ground as you met him halfway and crashed into his arms with a thankful sigh and buried your face in his neck. Even as you held him tightly to you, part of you still couldn’t believe that it was him. You felt something swell in your heart, a feeling you couldn’t place but knew you hadn’t felt in a long time.

Did you deserve this? Did you deserve to have him back after all you’d done? Pushing the thought away, you readjusted your embrace as if you could somehow hold him even closer.

He twisted his hands in your clothing and breathed you in. He’d imagined this moment for so long. When things seemed too dark and hopeless, he’d clung on to this. To think about how it would feel to finally see you again. To hold you again. And imagination couldn’t compare to the utter joy in his heart that reality brought him. He almost didn’t want to let you go for fear that you could be taken away again but practicality took precedence, the two of you couldn’t stay this way forever, as much as he might want to.

Tears mixed with rain streamed down both your cheeks as you parted from one another.

You cupped his face in your hands. “You’re here? You’re actually here?” You murmured, your voice cracking with emotion. You’d driven yourself crazy with picturing this moment, you needed to make sure this wasn’t your brain’s idea of a cruel joke.

Hunter removed your hands from his face and kissed your gloved knuckles. “I’m here.” He whispered back, his breathing still shaky as he pressed pressing his forehead into yours.

“You’re here.” You repeated as you looked into his soft brown eyes.

Hunter’s thumb gently caressed the cut on your lip, and he noticed the other wound on your nose. “Did they-”

You pulled his hand away. “Doesn’t matter. This is all I care about right now.”

Before Hunter could push the matter, he felt his brother approach.

“And what about me?”

You glanced past Hunter to the indignant but affectionate voice. “Hi, Wrecker.” You met his open armed invitation and let him swing your around as he hugged you.

“Good to see you, (Y/N)!”

“How’d you find me?” You asked as he placed you back down.

“You didn’t make it easy.” Wrecker griped. “We always seemed to be two steps behind you.”

“I haven’t exactly been hiding though.” You disputed as you pointed to a discarded wanted poster on the ground beside you.

“Between the Imperials and dead end leads and your rather annoying ability to hide in plain sight, it was tough. We got a lucky break with a guy whose brother owned another pawn shop here. Saw the results of a fight and figured we’d finally caught up with you.” Hunter explained as he came to stand in front of you and took his helmet from his brother.

You gulped. You’d be careful to make sure the people you’d gone after had no one they’d be leaving behind. You didn’t realise you’d messed up with that this time. “He- he had a brother?”

Hunter tilted his head at the unusually emotive response. “Apparently but I’m assuming you had a good reason for ending it the way you did.”

You coughed. “Yeah, totally.” You straightened your back and changed the subject. “Where’s Echo?”

“Using his contact to try to get more intel on Hemlock. We still don’t know where he’s holding Omega.” Hunter kicked the ground. “Don’t suppose you have anything?”

“I wish I did but everything I gathered was either old or what we knew already. He’s good at laying low.” You seethed.

“We’ll get him, though. We have too.” Wrecker stated firmly.

“How soon can you leave?” Hunter asked.

“Um, well-” You cut yourself off as your sight drifted past Hunter’s shoulder to the end of the alley at the lone trooper that had a blaster pointed at Hunter’s back.

“Watch out!” You yelled as you pushed Hunter out the way of the incoming blaster bolt. You drew your blaster and fired a shot that landed in the centre of the trooper’s chest, and he dropped to the ground. But you knew, where there was one stormtrooper, there would be at least five more behind them.

“We need to move out.” Hunter urged as he got back to his feet and put his helmet on. “A firefight will draw too much attention.”

“No time.” You stated simply as you pulled your hood and mask back up.

“We’ve got more incoming!” Wrecker confirmed as he lowered his helmet and opened fire on the small squad of troopers that had arrived.

The three of you took cover behind a skip, only firing defensive shots back. You needed to draw the soldiers closer before going on the offensive.

When they had gotten close enough, Hunter threw a smoke bomb, the action allowing the three of you to advance and take out the troopers one shot at a time.

As the firefight continued, however, you began to feel unsteady on your feet and your movements felt unbalanced. Your tingling limbs ensured that your aim was skewed too. All that, combined with the wetness you felt pooling from your stomach meant the trooper had better aim than you credited them for- you’d been hit. You couldn’t afford to think about what this meant, right now, you needed to get outta here.

But you’d been distracted long enough for one downed soldier you’d dismissed as being a threat to come around and jab their blaster against your knee. You grunted with the impact but turned your blaster on him and he lay limp on the ground.

Hunter and Wrecker tidied off the few retreating stragglers. They could deal with this small group but anything more would prove difficult.

With the last trooper taken care of, you braced yourself against the wet wall. The fading adrenaline in your system now being replaced by agony and you ripped your mask down and took deep but laboured breaths.

“Their reinforcements won’t be long. We made a bit of noise.” Wrecker said as he holstered his blaster.

But Hunter wasn’t paying attention to what Wrecker was saying. His gaze was fixed on you and the way you were struggling to hold yourself up against the wall. “(Y/N), what-” He stopped as he saw the crimson drops that mixed with the rainwater drip from the hand pressed to your stomach onto the ground. No, no, no. He thought to himself. This couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t lose you when he’d only just found you again.

Your knees buckled and you fell to the ground, Hunter catching your shoulder was the only reason you were able to stay sitting up but without the distraction of the fight, the pain was overwhelming. Black spots danced in the corners of your vision, but you couldn’t succumb to them, not now. Not after all this. You tried to lift your head to speak but all that left your mouth was a tortured groan.

As collected as he wanted to be to deal with this, he couldn’t totally keep his panic at bay. His hands trembled as he attempted to get you to look at him. He delicately brushed some loose strands of hair from your face. “Sshh, I’ve got you.” He whispered tenderly, fighting to keep the worry out of his voice. What made it all the worse was that he knew this wound didn’t occur through the fight they’d just seen out, you’d been hurt shoving him out the way of that first shot that drew the rest of the stormtroopers in.

How could he have allowed this to happen? What good were his enhanced senses if he couldn’t protect the people he loved. You shouldn’t have needed to push him out the way of that blaster bolt, he should’ve known the trooper was there and now you were paying the price for his mistake.

“What can we do?” Wrecker asked quickly.

You winced and tried for words again. “Medical centres are a no. Where’s- where’s the ship?”

“Landing bay 6.” Wrecker replied.

You inhaled sharply. Your current state made things all too easy for the Imperials to catch you making your way there. “Too far. We- we gotta get to my place. She- she might kill me but- argh!” You broke off with a cry of pain as you reached a hand up to Hunter. “But it’s safe there and- and she’ll know what to do.”

“Hold on.” Hunter rasped as he took a grip of your forearm and signalled to Wrecker to keep an eye out as he pulled you to your feet.

You pressed your hand into your side with a pained gasp as Hunter put his arm around you and supported most of your weight and the three of you got on the move.

--

“This is it?” Wrecker asked- his scepticism evident despite the pressing matter at hand- as he stared at the condemned building.

“All the regular penthouses were taken.” You kidded before you swayed on your feet as a wave of dizziness struck.

“Woah, easy.” Hunter cautioned as he strengthened his grip.

“Second floor.” You hissed. “And mind the fourth step on the second staircase. Half of it is missing.”

“It can never just be simple.” Hunter grumbled anxiously as Wrecker opened the decrepit door to the building.

“Would it really be a reunion if everything went well?” You joked deliriously.

“Right now, yes I would definitely prefer it.” Hunter fretted as he saw your head dip. You were losing the battle of staying conscious with each passing second. The next time it happened, he wasn’t sure you would be able to lift your head again.

--

Lyra had barely any time to process the familiar people standing in her doorway as she answered the pounding knock. All she could do was stare at you, half collapsed against Hunter’s side, your hand cradling your stomach, and then her eyes caught sight of the trail of blood that had followed your path up. “What-”

“Hey, girl. Remember- remember how I promised I wouldn’t put you through something like this again? Turns out, I shouldn’t- shouldn’t have done that.” You said through gritted teeth before you stumbled as you tried to take a step forward, prompting Hunter to lift you up.

“Please.” The hoarse plea was all Hunter managed to say.

“Lay her here.” Lyra quickly stepped aside to let the three of you in and pointed to the couch.

Hunter hustled inside and delicately placed you on the worn soft. He took off his helmet and kneeled by your head and stroked your hair back from your forehead. “You’re going to be alright. You need to hold on for me, okay? I’m not losing you again.” He whispered against your temple before he left a light kiss on your brow.

“Good news, it’s not as bad as last time.” Lyra said as she examined the wound before getting up to go gather the medical supplies.

“The bar is rather low on that front, Lyra.” You moaned.

“Last time?” Hunter found himself asking as he tore his stare from your bloody injury to Lyra.

Lyra didn’t respond, she was too busy staring at the depleted supply of medical care. She took a deep breath and braced her hands against the countertop. “(Y/N)… what happened to the bacta?”

Seemingly forgetting that you were currently in severe pain and bleeding out, you went to prop yourself up but Hunter’s hand gently pushing against your shoulder stopped you. “Hey.” You protested wearily.

“You can answer the question like that.” Hunter chastised.

“The bacta?” Lyra pressed as she rifled through the other cupboards in case it had somehow been misplaced.

No, not yet. You told yourself as the black dots returned. You blinked them away and took a strained breath before you answered. “I- I may have given it away…”

“You-” Lyra had to take a deep, calming breath and pinched the bridge of her nose. “You gave it away? What in all the galaxy would possess you to do that?”

“Well, I saw someone in need and decided-” You broke off with another pained wince. “Decided to finally be a good citizen.”

Lyra released an exasperated sigh. “Do I need to remind you of your track record? You need bacta like the rest of us need water.”

“In my defence, I wasn’t planning on needing it anymore. This- this time really wasn’t my fault.”

“I quite frankly don’t give a fuck! You can’t just-”

“Can we do this later?” Hunter interrupted as he saw your face contort in discomfort. “Preferably when she’s able to hold a conversation without convulsing in pain?”

“I can run back to our ship and get some.” Wrecker offered as he lifted his helmet.

“Go.” Hunter said with a nod, but Lyra held out a hand to stop the bigger clone from going.

“She doesn’t have that kinda time. I can cauterise it the old-fashioned way, but it’ll just hurt like hell.” Lyra said with a grimace.

“That’s fine because I don’t think I’m going to be conscious for much longer.” The darkness encroaching on your vision was all too tempting and you were completely exhausted.

“No, you stay awake.” Lyra ordered sternly.

Hunter and Wrecker turned their attention sharply to you.

“Come on, (Y/N). You gotta hang in there.” Wrecker urged as he reached over the back of the couch and placed a large hand on your shoulder.

“Sweetheart, keep your eyes on me.” Hunter begged as he saw them flicker open and shut but it was a battle that he knew you were going to lose.

You wanted to; you really did but you just couldn’t. You shut your eyes and embraced the peace of the darkness.

 “Hunter, she’s still breathing right?” Lyra asked as she picked up the last few things she needed.

“Shallowly but yes.” Hunter said with a thankful sigh.

“That’s good enough.” Lyra ran back to the couch and began to start to process of stabilising you.

--

You were in a dim corridor. The only light seemed to at the end of the long passageway. You made to walk towards it, hoping it would show you a way out but as you walked, it seemed to move away from you. You broke into a run but the distance between you and the light only grew. You paused your run as you thought about what this could mean. It was then though that a voice spoke up and a figure appeared next to you.

You won’t get to it.

You faced the figure. It almost sounded and looked like you but there was something off about it. There was a yellow shimmer in the eyes and the face was gaunt and mean-looking, with lips that seemed to be in a permanent sneer. The voice carried a cruel, sinister overtone that made your blood run cold and the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

It’ll keep staying away from you.

But why? You studied whatever it was before you as they circled you. When it walked, it was cast in constant shadow.

You think after all you’ve done; you can have that light back? You think you deserve it?

Before you could form a reply, your attention was drawn to a scene unfolding to your right.

Aww this was your first failure. But it brought me to the surface, so I remain pretty grateful.

Your breath caught in your throat as you recognised the moment. You saw your master completely surrounded by battle droids, taking hit after hit. And you saw yourself as a Jedi Knight sprinting to reach him. You went to turn away, but a strong hand grabbed the back of your neck, forcing you to keep looking.

There’s you. Being too late to save him. Do you remember the last words you said to him?

You did and they were words you had regretted ever since.

‘Stubborn, foolish, out of touch, old timer whose only purpose was to be a pawn for the orders of the Jedi Council’ I believe they were.

Stop it.

He died knowing you failed him.

You squeezed your eyes shut as you heard the final shot that sent your master crumbling to the ground.

You got a taste for it then.

Despite the fact you wanted to refuse, you found yourself opening your eyes to seeing yourself utterly decimate the remaining droids by your master’s dead body. You saw the merciless gleam in your eyes and the callous smile that graced your face as you destroyed them. You had enjoyed that. The scene finished with you repeatedly bringing your lightsaber down on the final droid, the blue blade moving in unrestrained fury. Why did you show me that? You asked bleakly.

But the darkness didn’t give you a proper answer. It only pushed an icy finger on your lips. Pay attention, we’re not done yet. It took you a while to accept that this was always in you. You worked on shutting me out. You managed for a while… but then she left.

You wanted nothing more than to leave this place and this darkness before you, but all control had been taken from your body. Your feet began moving of their own accord and you were directed to another moment on your left this time. You were stopped and the hand took a harsh grip of your neck again. You were forced to watch Ahsoka walk out the Council Chamber doors, with Anakin following her and then you viewed yourself in horror as you saw the rage written across your face and heard the venom in your words as you yelled at the Council. Had you really been that uncontrolled? That angry?

Even though you finally left those uptight pricks, you still insisted on keeping me hidden though. Rather irritating I must say. I wondered what it would take for you to accept me. And then he came into your life.

You were pushed along the hall again to the next part which was replaying your first interaction with Hunter and your chest felt tight. Leave him out of this.

Oh, but he’s the best part. Your figure taunted nastily.

The scene switched and were now being greeted with flashes of your intimate moments with Hunter. Enough.

The only reply came in the form was an unkind laugh.

Giving into that lust felt good, didn’t it? The possessiveness, the selfishness that came with having someone just for you was too enticing to pass up.

No, that wasn’t what it was at all. Stop.

You liked the feeling of knowing you could use that attachment to excuse any darker actions. You would be doing it for him, so it made it okay. It wasn’t love for him you were feeling, it was a love for the freedom to channel me that you craved. He was merely a convenient vessel.

No, you’re wrong! You insisted but your voice lacked conviction, everything was getting so twisted that you were now doubting the feelings you thought you never would.

The darkness just gave you a pitying look. Just keep watching and you’ll see I’m right.

So, you did. You were shoved further up the corridor to see you and the Batch together. Memories that you once would’ve looked back on in fondness were now tainted by pain and disappointment that you’d dragged them into your mess. The darkness took no notice of your distress, it just continued talking.  

Much to my delight, you grew to care for all of that group. I knew that attachment would lead to something marvellous for us and then it finally happened.

You moved along to the next scene and your breathing grew uneven as the image of Eriadu appeared. You couldn’t bear seeing this again but once more, you were left with no choice but to hear Tech say that dreaded plan and watch him fall to his death.

Of course, he was another one you were too slow to save but-

You wouldn’t hear this. No, we didn’t have the time. There was nothing I could’ve done. What happened was-

Oh, I know you tried telling yourself that, but my very existence tells me that you know if you’d allowed me in earlier, the situation itself wouldn’t have happened. You’d have killed Gerrera before he even had a chance to set those explosives off.

No, you’re wrong. You said through a shaken whisper, but you didn’t believe the words you were saying anymore.

Although I must say, I’m glad you didn’t quite give in then since I am rather pleased with how it all turned out. His death was the catalyst to a glorious chain of events. So much loss and broken trust. Finally, you had the reason to welcome me without restraint or regret.

You felt your anger rise as the voice kept talking whilst the scene changed from his death to Cid’s betrayal and Omega being captured and you being separated from Hunter. Nothing about that had been a blessing. It couldn’t have been. Shut up. You snarled. But the figure only smugly beamed.

There it is. There’s that power. You can deny it all you want but that was the best thing that happened to you. You let me in and from that point on, nothing stopped you getting what you wanted. And it felt divine. You know it did. Look at how formidable you are with me being a part of things.

You were dragged along the hall and all that appeared around you were the people in the galaxy you’d threatened, brutalised, and murdered. You had no other option but to watch and hear their tortured pleas and screams. You didn’t need the darkness to talk you through these this time, you recalled very clearly that during all of this, you’d felt not one bit of remorse. You’d thought they deserved it. You’d fallen so far, and a way back now seemed impossible.  

The darkness commented on a particular time where you were torturing a woman who’d been very difficult to track and get information from. Even when you did find her, she’d been loyal to the Empire, insisting you should’ve died with the rest of the Jedi traitors. You’d responded by cracking the individual bones in her fingers and hands before moving up to the bones in her arm. You’d broken her right clavicle before she’d finally told you what you needed to know. I particularly liked this moment. Do you remember how she couldn’t stand afterwards? All she could do was writhe on the floor in agony. Quite a humorous sight.

You remembered them all and it made you feel sick to your stomach now as you watched the endless stream of tormented and pained faces of people you had tortured and killed in your quest for information.

The last scene disappeared and despite the fact you had been walking along the corridor that whole time, the light had still remained far out of reach.

See? No matter how far you go, you’ll never reach that light. Why bother searching for it anymore? You know you’re better off alone. All you need is this power and you’ll be unstoppable. But since I know some part of you still cares for your clones, don’t trouble them with this. It’s not something that can be shared or fixed.  

The figure faded and you collapsed to your knees in defeat. You had succumbed to that darkness and hurt and killed too many people. You’d crossed that line, and you weren’t sure there was a way back for you and you wouldn’t take Hunter down with you. Or Wrecker and Echo. They deserved a chance to rescue Omega and set things right, and if being with Hunter meant that chance would be at risk, you wouldn’t take that from them. Even if it would kill you, it would be the last thing you did to protect your family. ‘No attachments. There is no emotion, there is peace.’ You had to finally listen to that part of the Jedi Code that you had fought against for years and… and you would let them go.

--

Once it seemed things were more under control, Wrecker broke the quiet. “I’m going to go keep watch.” He said before walking out.

There were a few minutes of silence, the only noise being the quiet hiss of Lyra sealing shut your injury now that she’d cleaned it.

“Didn’t know you had this skill set.” Hunter said into the quiet as he watched Lyra.

“I tell myself it’s not so different from stitching and making clothes. Plus, she kinda made it that I had to learn quick. There were just some things she couldn’t handle on her own.”

There was a dip in conversation again.

“I was sorry to hear about your kid... and Tech.” Lyra said quietly as she worked on you. She placed a bandage over your now closed injury and started to put away the medical supplies.

The mention of his brother’s name had him stiffening his posture. “Yeah, well, we’re going to find her.”

Lyra nodded understandingly before she indicated to you. “She’s been non-stop since Ord Mantell. She wouldn’t rest until she found you. Didn’t matter how dangerous things got, she wouldn’t stop.”

Hunter continued to stroke your brow. “She’s not the only one.”

“I almost wished she would. I thought the search was going to kill her. Especially after what happened last time.”

This wasn’t the first time she’d mentioned this now. And from the dynamic between the two of you since arriving here, he figured there was key subtext he was missing. He glanced over to Lyra. “What are you talking about?”

Lyra took a short breath. “It was a few weeks ago. She-” Lyra stopped as she heard you let out a soft groan.

“Hey you.” Hunter said softly as you slowly opened your eyes. “How are you feeling?”

You didn’t answer him. Whatever soreness you were experiencing wouldn’t come close to the misery your next course of action would cause you. “Thank you. Again.” You said to Lyra instead.

Lyra nodded. “I’ll go keep Wrecker company.” She said before grabbing her sniper rifle and making her exit.

Hunter brought his focus back to you and provided a supportive hand on your back as you sat up. “Take as long as you need. I figured once you’re feeling more up to it, you can say your goodbyes and leave with us. After-”

“You have to go.”

“Yes, I know…” Hunter said, tilting his head at you. “But you need a bit of time and-”

“No, you need to leave without me.”

Without you? No, you couldn’t mean that. “What’s-” He stopped for a moment to try and recover from the confusion your statement caused him. “What’s changed between that alleyway and now?”

You knew he wasn’t going to make this easy but every minute you had to do this was tearing you apart. “Everything has. The Empire knows what I am. It’ll add unnecessary heat.”

“We’ll cope.”

You swallowed harshly and grimaced as you readjusted your sitting position. “It’s not just that. Things changed when we got separated. I changed.”

“That doesn’t scare me.”

“It should. All I’ve done…” You trailed off and gulped. “I’m not who I used to be.”

 “I’ve done things I’m not proud of too. But we can-”

 “Hunter, I don’t belong with you anymore.”

Hunter couldn’t accept that. “You’re one of us. You always have been. Since the first moment you stepped in front of those droids on Devaron, you were one of us. I don’t understand why-”

“There’s someone else.” You blurted out and fuck you hated yourself for it. You knew by the way he recoiled from you and from deep hurt and betrayal that flashed across his face, you would’ve been better off hitting him. You knew you had to hurt him. Even if he left hating you, you could find a way to let him go. But you hated that you had to do it.

“There’s someone else.” Hunter repeated quietly, his throat bobbing as he kept his voice tight.

You had to push it. It was the only way, but it felt like your heart was being ripped out of your chest as you said the next words. You forced yourself to keep your voice cold and level. “I’ve moved on. I only needed to know that you were alive. And now I do. You can go now. Just leave and don’t think about me again. It’ll save us all a lot of bother.” You couldn’t face the wounded look in his eyes and you turned your own away from him and had to blink away the tears that threatened to fall.

Hunter clenched his jaw and swallowed thickly. “Look me in the eye and tell me that again.” He implored.

He knew you too well. You wouldn’t do it. If you did, he would know you were lying. So, you opted for something worse- you would manipulate his heart. “If any part of you still cares about me, you will go. That’s all I want now. I need you to leave. You’ll only be hurting me more if you stay.” You said firmly as you faced him again.

You sounded so sure, and even if he thought he could see something in your eyes that took the conviction out of your words, he’d never want to cause you pain, he wouldn’t be able to stand it. Better him be the one to take the hurt, no matter how unnatural it felt, no matter how much every fibre of his being yearned to stay by your side and work this out. So, Hunter got to his feet and walked over to the door. “Every part of me still cares about you.” He murmured back to you before the door opened and he walked out. He was walking out on you- something he thought he’d never do- and it left him feeling like he had a gaping hole in his chest.

--

As you heard the door shut, a broken sob left your lips and you let the tears fall.

--

“Where is she?” Lyra asked as Hunter came out from the door behind them.

“Keep her alive.” Hunter said numbly to Lyra before he walked away.

“Hunter-” Lyra started to say but the clone wasn’t stopping.

“Eh, well, I guess it was nice to see you.” Wrecker said hurriedly before he darted after his brother.

“Bye.” Lyra said with confusion as she watched the two clones go. She turned to go back inside and hopefully knock some sense into you.

--

You’d managed to drag yourself into the sanctity of your room, but the isolation wasn’t helping things. The regret you were feeling was overwhelming but what was done was done. You needed to stand by your choice, it was what was best for them, you just needed to learn how to cope. You needed something, anything, to distract your brain from the self-doubt running rampant in your head so, staying mindful of your wound, you tentatively sat back on your bed and closed your eyes, drowned out the pouring rain smacking against the glass, and found your centre again.

Not to your surprise, you were only surrounded by darkness. You’d let the last light in your life go, there was nothing left for you now.

Spark.

Not that voice. Not again, you couldn’t handle that. “No, I’m not doing this.”

Yes, you are. You need to listen to me, Spark.

You sighed and saw the figure of your old master appear in the vast space before you. “So, either I somehow took a turn and I’m dead or I’m hallucinating.”

Your master simply chuckled. Must it always be extremes with you?

“You taught me what I know, you tell me.”

Well, based off your past choices, I would say you’ve forgotten much of what I taught you.

“This is why you’re in my head? To lecture me about my choices? Yes, I broke the code, big whoop. I never liked it anyway. And now I’ve given into the dark side, sorry to have disappointed you.” You grumbled as you looked down at your feet.

He sighed. It hurt him to see you look so defeated, this wasn’t the young Jedi he’d raised. Evidently, you were going to need more help than he expected. This isn’t some meditative trick. I’ve always been with you, Spark, and now I’m with you because you need help. You’ve strayed from your path, and you need guidance.

“You’re a few months too late, Master.” The title came back into your vocabulary so naturally, you’d nearly missed the fact that you’d reverted back to your student/teacher dynamic so quickly.

That defeat you’re feeling is exactly why I’m here now. This dark side you seem to think is your destiny is not decided, but if you continue to stand by the decision that you just made, it will be. There’s a chance for you, Spark, don’t throw it away.

You couldn’t bring yourself to believe him. “If you’ve truly been around for all of this, you’ll know what I’ve done. You’ve seen what I’ve become. I wasn’t as strong I thought I was.”

You haven’t fallen yet. He reiterated. What you’ve gone through would wreck most people, the fact that you’ve only strayed from the light now is a credit to you. But this choice you’ve made to let them go is what will seal your fate.

“What are you talking about? I was on this path long before what happened on Ord Mantell. I saw it!” You said, your voice rising in frustration and distress. Why was everyone around you so insistent that you could heal from this? You’d shown your true colours years ago, you were only doing what you were obviously meant for.

He raised his hands to calm you. Spark, listen to me. You’re not-

“I had to let him go! I had to let them all go! You should be glad, Master! I’m finally following the teaching you worked so hard on getting through to me!” Your breathing grew more uneven and the word that left your mouth were filled with self-loathing, but you couldn’t stop them. “I’m damaged goods, I have been from the beginning, and I couldn’t bring him down with me! I couldn’t bring any of them down with me!” You felt tears slide down your cheeks as the emotion you had been trying to hard to push down came crashing to the surface.

And is letting attachments go part of the Jedi or Sith philosophy? He asked gently.

His genteel manner caught you off guard. You huffed out a quick breath. “Why does that matter?”

Answer the question, please.

You released an agitated sigh. “Jedi, I guess but-”

And let me ask you this, you said you saw what you’ve done? How?

You regained some composure. “I don’t know how to describe what it was I saw, but whatever it was took me down a lovely stroll through memory lane and I saw what I was. There’s no denying it now.”

It was starting to make sense to him now and with this new understanding, he finally knew the best way to help you. Yes, the dark side can be very manipulative that way. Especially when it knows there’s been pain plenty of pain and sorrow. It preys upon that and I’m just sorry it got to you before I could.

“What are you talking about?”  

What you saw, it wasn’t the whole truth.

Not the whole truth? “What do you mean?”

He looked at you with intrigue. What do you think I mean?

You inhaled deeply to find some patience. “Master, please. I’m not your padawan anymore.”

He bowed his head in acknowledgement. You’ll always be my padawan, Spark. But I understand this may not be the best time for one of my lessons.

Despite everything, the nostalgia his teaching persona brought you had you humming out a quiet laugh. “I guess working together on whatever cryptic lesson you’re going to impart on me will be fine, for old times sake if nothing else. Just don’t leave it all to me. I’m not clear-headed enough to do all the thinking.”

He nodded and smiled knowingly at you. It will be less cryptic that the lessons I used to give you. Let us begin.

You knew that gleam in his eye and you forgot that no matter how agitated or frustrated you’d been growing up as his pupil, he’d always found a way to put you at ease and you’d been more open to learning again. Even dead, he still seemed to possess that ability. And it was because of that, you found yourself getting ready to welcome whatever wisdom he felt could get you out of this hell you’d put yourself in.

Now, I understand that you are feeling a lot of guilt and self-loathing, correct?

Feeling it? You felt like you were drowning in it.

And you have convinced yourself that your clones, particularly… Hunter, isn’t it? He waited for your nod before continuing, are better off without you because you’ve done too much. Stepped over that line one too many times? A lost cause, yes?

“I guess you could say that.” You mumbled.

He hummed in thought before he spoke again. You mentioned something about you were this way from the beginning. Can you tell me to which beginning you are referring to?

You inhaled shakily. “I- I saw you die again. I watched myself destroy the rest of those droids in undisciplined rage and- and I was reminded of what I’d said to you.”

Ah yes, that was quite the day. Rather humiliating on my part, I must say. I should’ve just listened to you from the start. My we exchanged some choice words. He ruminated with a small chuckle.

You remembered him having a rather dry sense of humour, but this just seemed absurd. You’re laughing about this?! I was awful to you! I saw you die and all I could do was wreak havoc on a group of droids and I enjoyed it! I held your dead body in my arms and the last thing I had done was insult you and forget everything you’d taught me for some fucking battle droids!”

He held up his hands to appease you. You’re right, I shouldn’t have laughed but that wasn’t quite how it went.

You furrowed your brow. “What? I saw it! I remember it pretty clearly, even without the reminder. I’m haunted by it and you’re telling me that wasn’t what happened?!”

He shook his head. Not quite. Remember, the dark side has a remarkable ability to alter events to fit its needs. It only picks out the moments necessary to draw out those darker emotions. What you saw was true, from a certain point of view, but it didn’t show you everything.

“Then what am I missing?” You asked, desperation in your voice because if there was anything that could help ease the ache from that day, you needed it.

I wasn’t dead when I hit the ground. Fret not, no amount of medical attention would’ve saved me. He interjected hastily as he saw the panic that graced your face. Although the sadder truth is I did in fact die in your arms but… He angled his head to catch your eye again as you had shied away from him upon hearing that. He started again, but your last words to me were not fuelled by irritation or cruelty, you apologised for what you said as well as how you handled those droids. You told me that I was the best teacher you’d ever had, and you promised you would continue to work on what I taught you and to make me proud. That was the last thing you said to me before I passed on. And I can honestly say, Spark, that you kept your promise, despite how it might seem currently.

You went to speak but found that you didn’t have the words. All these years spent being tormented by a memory that in fact had another side to it, could that be right? Seeing it again had made it seem all the more true but there was nothing but sincerity in his face and voice as he told you this. He wasn’t looking to feed you a false narrative, there was no vindictiveness in his tone.

You don’t have to believe me immediately, I know things have been tough but we’re going to go through this and I’m going to help you see the truth, okay? He said tenderly.

You could only nod.

Okay. He straightened up. I’m going to make an educated guess and say that if that incident was the starting point, the next situation would’ve been that unfortunate time with Ahsoka and the Jedi Council and also the day you decided to leave?

You gulped and found your voice again. “Um, yeah.”

And I expect you were shown yourself in an untamed rage with little concern over the words you used?

You gave a stiff nod of your head.

Uh huh, well, once again, you were shown a manipulated memory created from shame. You were unhappy, and I can’t say I blame you, they really fucked that up if you pardon the phrase.

You couldn’t help but snort at his gentlemanly manner and you were reminded of the many telling offs for language you’d received growing up.

And while you were disappointed in them and frustrated, you never lost control of yourself. Your voice was raised but level. You were clear in your points, and you never said anything untoward save for some unsavoury language sprinkled in. He watched you impart the familiar eye roll as he said that last statement, but he took that as a positive sign. Your attachment to Ahsoka didn’t cloud your judgment, your decision to leave was made with a steady heart and a focused head. And I watched you do it and I knew it was the best decision for you. It did set things in motion, but they were good things for you, Spark, and it’s important that you realise that again. He looked at you earnestly.

You held his gaze, and, in his eyes, you saw the master that had been with you through thick and thin. The master that had put up with your questions and doubts about the Jedi Order that the Jedi Council could hardly tolerate. You saw the master that had mentored you and fought by your side for years. He was one of the people that had known you best. He wouldn’t lie to you, and you felt your heart opening up to what he was saying to you.

Shall we continue? He asked after giving you a minute to process.

You shook your shoulders and exhaled heavily before you looked at him and give him a single, firm nod.

--

He had taken you through various events bit by bit. Pointing out that elements that demonstrated you were still being pulled towards the light. Things like you would’ve either left or killed Lyra the second she’d gotten you out of Ord Mantell and her use was over. Things like you wouldn’t have offered so many opportunities for people to talk to you before you injured or killed them, you would have hurt them first and asked questions later- killing and pain had never been your first port of call. And any firefight that ensued, when possible, you made sure you remained the primary target and civilians would be out of harms way.

Concern for others and worry about the consequences of your actions… Sith and dark side users tend not to feel or allow for these things. He surmised.

Even if what he was revealing to you was the whole picture, there was still the pressing matter of how you’d been in the recent months. “But Eriadu and everything that followed after… I let something in, what was it if not the dark side?”

He gave you a sympathetic smile. You had never experienced loss and betrayal in such quick succession before. What you let in was the anger and anguish you were feeling which you weren’t trained to handle properly. The more you went on, the more those emotions twisted your brain which allowed the darkness to creep in and make it more effortless to act on said emotions. It was easier for you to get what you needed with your emotions being what they were, and you didn’t have to think about who was getting hurt. You got a rather bad case of tunnel vision- you were doing bad things for good reasons, but they were not senseless acts of violence.

“But I have done so many bad things.” You said with self-directed disgust.

Yes, but what you can do now is work towards finding that line again. To finding that control you had in the past. You’ve been on that path since this morning, the self-awareness of what you’ve been doing wasn’t present in the months before today. However, you cannot get back to that place alone anymore, you’ve changed since you left the Order and most of it was for the better, but more attachment means more support. You will not be able to find that balance if you let your family go. He said with a sense of urgency. He needed you to grasp what he was telling you, no matter how unnatural it might feel.

Your pulse quickened. Surely, he wasn’t suggesting what you thought he was? “What are you saying, Master?”

Do you know where your nickname originated?

Confused as you why this was suddenly relevant, you angled your head at him. “I always figured it was because word spread that I made my lightsaber slightly wrong the first time and nearly set it on fire when I first ignited it.”

He chortled. That acted more as a visual aid and a helpful addition to the true origin.

“Then where did it come from?”

He took a deep breath. In the weeks leading up to the time for us to choose a youngling to take under our wing, you caught my eye from the start. It wasn’t just your natural ability with a lightsaber or your quick grasp of the Force, it was how you interacted with the people around you. During the trials, you had a heightened care for how the others were performing and you aided them whenever you could without a second thought. It made you more focused, more effective. You were unique from your peers in that sense and in a way that I’d never seen before, and I knew I had to get to know you more to understand what it was I was picking up on.

“Yeah, I remember. I’d never expected someone to choose me so eagerly, especially since my disciplinary record was far from perfect, even at that age.” Youreminisced with a sigh.

Yes, my fellow Jedi were surprised at my decision, but there was just something within you I had to see for myself. As we got to understand each other and I could officially begin your training, I watched you continue to demonstrate this quality and I could feel it residing in the Force within you. You had this spark, this fire that drove you which would worry even the most disciplined Jedi Masters but with you, it was as much a part of you as the Force was with the rest of us. You were completely at peace with it, and it was something you probably didn’t realise was so rare. You could feel attachment without rejecting the light side of the Force to do so.

So, the name made a bit more sense after all these years, but you still couldn’t see why this was being brought up. “Okay…”

He could tell you were still hesitant to all this. Do you know which General had the most victories with the fewest casualty numbers? Quite a feat to have during war time I might add.

You huffed a heavy breath from your lips. “I have no idea. The war was such a mess and there were so many of us that it was hard to keep up with the results of each battle.”

Fair point. He conceded, but that doesn’t change the answer which is that it was you.

You were taken aback for a moment before you thought back to that period and part of it did make sense. Many of your strategies had seen you take on the most dangerous elements for the sake of the clones in your battalion despite protests from them, your master and pretty much everyone that was involved, but all that mattered to you was that they worked, and you did what you could to protect everyone else.

He knew you enough to recognise that face and he figured whatever it was you were thinking about would relate to his next question. And which General had the most visits to the medical wing? Another impressive award. He added with a hint of disapproval, his mask of control slipping slightly as he frowned at the memories of the countless notifications he’d receive of your admittance to the healing wards of the Jedi Temple.

You cringed as you remembered the fact you had been on a first name basis with all the medical personnel. “I did.”

He nodded. Attachments didn’t bring you down, they lifted you up. Their most negative consequence in that period seemed to be the recklessness they gave you- and my hair greying faster than I would’ve liked. He couldn’t help but say before he continued, but they didn’t unbalance you like they did most of us. And it is on that point my dear Spark, that I failed you.

“Failed me?” In what galaxy could he have possibly failed you when you were the one that had forgone all you stood for and was one slip away from total self-destruction.

When it became clear to me that this was indeed one of your best qualities and strengths, I was thrilled! It presented a challenge for me as you Master that I was looking forward to exploring! Your emotional attachment to people and causes was one I wanted to teach you to manage, not forbid. Your love and care didn’t make you more susceptible to the dark side and its dangers, it drew you closer to the light. That fire that burns within you isn’t a threat, it’s your way to become something greater. But the Council… He trailed off with a regretful sigh. They rejected my proposal that I mentor you in this way. So instead, as you got older, I worked on forcing you to dampen that flame within you but- He stopped for a moment and chuckled wryly. As you may remember, that was when the root of our conflicts started. Foolishly and rather selfishly-and this is an example of how even those of us that followed the Jedi Code to the letter slip from time to time- you passing your trials into Knighthood gave me profound relief. Not only did it mean I could see you become the Jedi you were always meant to be, but it meant my duty as your teacher was over and I could stop doing something I was against. But I shied away too much and stopped teaching you altogether, had I just been less of a ‘pawn of the Council’ as you quite rightly put it, what you’re experiencing now could have been avoided.

You took a moment to let his words sink in, but you wouldn’t let him blame himself for how you’d behaved in recent times. “I still made the choices to hurt those people, Master. You’re not responsible for my actions.”

Perhaps not, but I could’ve done more to make sure you were better equipped to deal with the loss attachment could bring rather than just tell you to stop feeling it altogether. Not that you listened to that anyway. He added with a slight grin.

You allowed yourself half a smile at that before his face turned sombre again.

But I should’ve stood up for you and for that I’m sorry.

You bowed your head in acceptance of his apology. “But what does all of what we’ve talked about have to do with where I am now?”

Everything I’ve shown you, everything you’ve felt in these recent months illustrates someone who had to cope with a tremendous amount of grief when they had been told their whole life to not feel or get attached. Even with your strength and abilities, Spark, that was a big ask, your actions, and the internal conflict you’re going through is an understandable outcome. But even in dealing with that struggle, you were never purely evil or sought to abandon your Jedi teachings. The only time I grew truly worried before now was whatever you did a few weeks ago. Even I couldn’t see you; it was like the very light around you was getting snuffed out. Care to tell me what you did?

You shook your head adamantly.  

Very well. As I was saying, all you’ve learned, all you’ve done and means you can heal from this. You are not a lost cause, not a source of darkness and despair. You are good at heart, Spark!

But Master, I-

No, don’t talk yourself out of this. Really think about what I’m telling you. You never abandoned Lyra, you did your best to ensure no civilian would be caught up in your fights, you offered chances to those people before you hurt them. And you were able to sense Hunter and Wrecker arrive. That source of light wouldn’t have shown itself if you were too far down that dark path.

Maybe so but-

He wouldn’t let you second guess yourself anymore. And when you realised that they were indeed on this planet… what did you do first?

You pondered for a moment before you remembered. I helped those sisters.

And when you found one another, you felt alive and hopeful again but because you’d been lost and confused for so long, it got manipulated into that guilt and regret and hurt you are experiencing right now that has left you exposed to this darkness. But before that, you were ready to free yourself of it, whether you truly realised it or not.

“Right…” You said distantly as you were slowly starting to understand what revelation he was guiding you towards.

I can see you working it out, you’re almost there. He encouraged.

Each lesson and aspect of this entire conversation began to click into place. “So, you’re saying that Hunter’s my light? He’s my way out of this?” You uttered quietly.

Isn’t he? He challenged with a supportive smile. And I believe he too made that fact very clear before you sent him away.

“I thought that was what I was supposed to do.” You said in dismay as your mind finally began to listen to what your Master had been telling you and you gained some proper clarity. What had you done?

He looked at you fondly. You were always a bad student when it came to applying and learning the history of our Code, it would fit that the first time you apply the philosophy to your life would be the poorer choice. They never unbalanced you, Spark. At the very least, they’re your way of staying true to the light side and your dark side knew that, hence it’s enthusiastic efforts to turn you.

You hid you head in your hands in embarrassment. You wouldn’t know a right decision if it smacked you in the face.  

Oh, and with regards to Cid and Hemlock, I leave that side of things entirely up to you, with your family by your side, I know punishing them however you like won’t ruin you.

“Thanks, Master.” You replied, a smile in your voice.

Not every Jedi gets the chance at a family, Spark, don’t throw it away now.

You glanced up in time to see him fade away but what was around you wasn’t pure darkness anymore; rays of light had broken into the gloomy space, with more fighting to get through.

--

You opened your eyes sharply and wiped away the damp residue of the tears that had escaped your eyes from your cheeks. He was right, they were the light in your life, and you’d been so stupid to let them go.

Ignoring the lingering pain of your injury, you hastily got to your feet, grabbed a couple bags of credits, and left your room only to be greeted by the disappointed and unhappy face of Lyra. “Hey, I was just-”

“You need to go after them. I’m sorry but I’m drawing the line here. I have not watched you put yourself through hell and risk your life month after month to find your family again only for you to throw it away for some stupid, fucked up, self-sabotaging reason! If you let them go, it will destroy you and as someone else who cares about you, I cannot allow you to do that! They’re your family, you need them, and they need you. And your kid needs you, you can’t just stop! And Hunter… that man is so in love with you it’s sickening, and you are as equally disgustingly in love with him! Whatever is holding you back, the two of you can get through together!”

“Lyra-” But she held up a finger to stop you.

“And you don’t need to worry about me, I will be fine. I’ll get a job and might even find a place that’s not a condemned building to live. You have to go!” She finished with a nervous exhale as she awaited your reaction.

“You’re right.” You agreed.

“Yeah, I am and- wait… what?” Lyra stared at you, shocked.

“I’m going after them.”

“You are?” She double checked.

“Yup.”

“Oh, thank fuck!” Lyra exclaimed before she darted forward and wrapped you up in her arms.

“How long were you coming up with that speech?” You kidded as the two of you hugged.

“For however long you were holed up in your room.” Lyra said with a laugh. “And in case you didn’t listen to that, I had my rifle set to stun and was fully prepared to drag you.”

“Glad we could avoid that.” You replied drily. “Also, ‘sickeningly in love?’” You quoted.

“I meant that as a compliment. Most people can only dream of that.”

You managed a short laugh. “I was an ass to you.” You mumbled shamefully.

“You were, but you were going through a lot.” Lyra said kindly as she removed herself from your hold.

“I was broken and hurting but that wasn’t an excuse to treat you how I did and I’m so sorry. I’m truly grateful for you and your friendship and well, just everything you’ve done for me. I won’t ever forget it. There are some spare bags of credits from those jobs I pulled whilst we were on the move in my bedside drawer, take them. And if there’s anything, and I mean anything you need, I will be there. You only have to get in touch.” You passed her the details of the Marauder’s comm channel.

“Go get ‘em.” Lyra said with a grin.

You gave her one last quick hug before you ran out the door, concern for your injury was pushed far to the back of your mind. You only prayed to the Force that you hadn’t left it too late.

--

“But I still don’t understand why we’re going without her. What you’ve said makes no sense.” Wrecker questioned as he followed Hunter up and down the Marauder as he got stuff ready for take-off.

“Not my problem, Wrecker. I don’t really want to relive it all again so that it makes sense to you.” Hunter said gruffly as he avoided making eye-contact with his brother and instead focused on keeping himself busy.

“She met someone else and you’re basically doing the whole ‘if you love someone you let them go?’”

“I guess that about sums it up.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“Wrecker-”

“I’m sorry, Sarge, but it’s true.”

“You weren’t there. You didn’t hear her.”

“She can’t have meant it! She still has your insignia, if there was someone else, why would she keep that?!”

“Wrecker, drop it.” Hunter said sharply. His brother’s insistence that you were making all this up was only rubbing salt in the wound.

“We’re really just going to leave and forget about her?”

“Yup.”

Wrecker just couldn’t accept that. “If you love someone, you fight for them! Otherwise, what’s the point in what we’re doing right now, why should we bother going after Omega?”

Hunter paused his pacing by the doorway and released an exasperated sigh. “What do you expect me to do?”

Wrecker went to speak but changed his mind as to what he was going to say as he saw the figure in the background. “Actually, I don’t think you’ll have to do anything.” Wrecker said, looking past Hunter’s shoulder.

Hunter turned to follow his gaze and that was when he saw you. Standing in the torrential rain a few feet away from the steps to the Marauder, was you and you were obviously trying to catch your breath.

--

You started to speak before you caught your breath, so your words were leaving you in a desperate and winded manner. “I was always a bad student.” You raised your voice over the sound of the pouring way. You wiped some drops away from your face, a futile gesture given the intensity of the downpour, but the motion assisted in grounding you for this moment.

Hunter studied you from afar for a second, unsure as to why you’d started this way.

Sensing his uncertainty, you cleared your throat and started again but your words still spilled from your lips in a nervous ramble. “So, it turns out I was always a Jedi who developed attachments and love for people, but apparently that’s a pretty strong and unique quality and applying the Jedi philosophy of ‘letting attachment go’ is a mistake and- and it felt like one. I have such a poor grasp of that concept that even when I went to use it properly, I got it all wrong. I was always a terrible student but for once, for once in my life, I have never been more grateful for it.” Your voice quivered as you said these next words. “I love you! I love you so much it hurts but it’s the kind of hurt that I can’t imagine not having in my life. You, this team, are what keep me balanced and alive, and I was stupid to think letting you go was the solution to everything I have done!”

Hunter could feel his heart thundering in his chest as he listened to what you were saying.

“Finally seeing you again made me feel hope and brought a newfound sense of purpose in my life I didn’t think I’d have again but it got all twisted, I let it get all messed up! I saw you and Wrecker, and I felt that love again and it terrified me at first! I had been acting out and miserable for so long that I didn’t think I deserved to feel this way again or that I should burden you all with my past. I needed to be punished and this was the best way I could think of. I allowed whatever darkness that had been driving me for that period we were apart to convince me that you were better of alone and I had to say whatever I could to get that to happen and for that, I am sorry!” You were in full flow now, all the emotions you’d been supressing came crashing to the surface and for once, it actually felt good. You weren’t existing as a husk of armour anymore.

Hunter couldn’t stand the gap between you anymore and he got his feet in motion. He needed to be near you, he needed to hold you again. You didn’t seem to notice his movement though because you carried on talking.

“There was never anyone else, there could never be anyone else! You’re it for me and this-” You stopped and gestured to the half white skull insignia on your top layer. “When I had this and said that you were a part of me, I truly meant it! Even when we weren’t together, that feeling never faltered. Half my heart beats for myself and this family I was fortunate enough to find. The other half beats for you! You are so deeply engrained in my very being that when I didn’t have you, I could hardly call it living! And then I got you back, and I was flooded with all the emotions I’d been missing since that day we were separated, and they collided with everything I’d done wrong, and I just panicked! I entered self-sabotage mode and thought letting you out of my life was what I had to do! I ruined one of the few remaining good things in my life and was preparing myself to let it be so. Thankfully, it was pointed out to me just how incorrect I was and I’m sorry!”

Hunter kept slowly walking down the steps towards you, the heavy rain instantly cascading down his face and body, but he didn’t care. His sole focus was on you now and the words you were saying. The words that were now healing the open wound he’d had since leaving you in that run down apartment.

“I need to come back. I need to be with you and I’m sorry I got everything so wrong! I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you, but you have to let me come back!”

“Yes.” He said as he continued to shorten the distance between you both.

“This family is the light of my life. You are the light of my life. So, either, let me come with you or just shoot me because without you, without this squad, I am just a shell of a human being and I’m done feeling like that now! You have to let me come back!”

“Yes.” Hunter said again as he stopped in front of you.

“And I-” You cut yourself off as you finally registered what he was saying and that the space between you both was now only a matter of inches. “Really?”

Hunter nodded and his hand fell to your waist whilst the other cradled the side of your face.

“I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.” You whispered softly as your hand rested on his now unarmoured chest and you got utterly absorbed in the feeling of his heart pounding beneath your fingertips- each beat emphasising that this was real, you were actually with him now- and you had no doubt that he could pick up on the way your own pulse was racing.

“It’s okay.” He breathed. “I love you too.”

“I love you.” You croaked out again as you felt the emotions rise in the back of your throat.

“You never stopped being a part of me either.” He murmured, his breathing heavy as his self-restraint was hanging by a thread, but he needed you to be sure. “Can I-” Hunter started to ask as he angled his head and slowly brought his lips closer to yours.

“Yes.” You cut him off. If he didn’t kiss you now, you felt as though you might stop breathing.

Hunter swiftly bridged the remaining distance and the dread he’d been experiencing at the idea of never finding you, at the idea of leaving you behind instantly evaporated in this moment as he finally placed his lips on yours.

You sighed into the sensation of experiencing this again and what began as hesitant and careful, soon became a kiss between two people fuelled by passion who had been apart for far too long and who would never be apart again. You wrapped your arms around him and pressed yourself against him.

Hunter first made sure he held you securely in his arms but as the kiss progressed and both of you became more immersed in feeling each other once more, his hands started caressing everything he could find. The actions elicited a small but desperate noise from you which he already felt drunk off of and he needed to hear more of you. The rain that had once felt like a harsh cascade of cold, damp water now felt gentle and tepid. He got utterly absorbed in your warmth and he tasted the water on your lips, but the interference didn’t bother him, he just relished the feeling of having you back in his embrace again.

You faintly registered the sun breaking through and the rain lightened in its deluge as you kissed him. If it wasn’t such a perfect moment, you might’ve laughed at the cliched nature of it all, but you were too caught up in this feeling that you ignored it. You threaded your fingers in his hair and lightly tugged, soliciting that raspy and familiar groan from him and your stomach fluttered at the feeling.

Unfortunately, you couldn’t ignore your current injury any longer and you felt it strain as Hunter held you tighter to him in response to your actions.

Hunter forced himself to pull away upon feeling your wince, his chest heaving as he worked on getting oxygen back into his lungs, but you interrupted his incoming question by continuing to plant light, affectionate kisses on the rest of his face and he couldn’t help the low but happy laugh that he let out. He lightly grabbed your shoulders and took a slight step back to take you in. The way the sun fell across your face had his breath catching in his throat. Your eyes were bright and looking at him with an adoration that he knew was reflected in his own gaze and the blissful smile on your lips beautifully captured the feelings of this moment. He rested a hand on the side of your face.

You looked into his own shining dark brown eyes and leaned into his touch with a soft and content sigh.

Hunter continued to slowly caress your cheek. “Not to disrupt your healing journey, but I have to ask… where do you stand on Cid and Hemlock?”

“Oh, don’t worry, they’re getting fucked up. I have permission on that front.” You said with a decisive nod. “I just have to watch the line with those that aren’t exactly personally involved.”

Not going to question where this permission came from exactly, he was just grateful whatever had happened, had brought you back to him so he just focused on the last part. “I can help with that. And you can look out for me too. We don’t have to do this alone anymore.”

You gave him an agreeing and grateful smile before you planted another tender kiss to his lips and grabbed his hand as the two of you walked back to the ship.

“This you officially back with us now?” Wrecker asked with a grin as you stepped aboard.

“You won’t be able to get rid of me.” You replied with a small smile as you gazed around you. There were times where you had felt uncertain as to whether you would stand amongst these comforting and familiar walls again, and your senses were flooded with the memories you had created and shared here. You swallowed harshly as you saw Omega’s and Tech’s spaces, but you regained your composure as you walked along the hallway. Your hand traced along the bunk you shared with Hunter and a soft sigh left your lips as you were instantly reminded of the slightly more personal moments you had experienced there.

It felt good to be home.

“Ready?” Hunter asked as you finished in the cockpit. He came beside you and wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you tight to him as Wrecker put the ship in hyperspace.

You nodded. “Let’s go get our girl.”

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[bosbas]

Chapter 10: writing letters addressed to the fire

series masterlist previous part || next part

pairing: benedict bridgerton x best friend!fem!reader WC: 3.8k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, idiots in love being idiots in love, angst, pining, like a lot of pining, anthony being controversial

Summary: You and Benedict have been best friends since childhood, but things change dramatically once you come out in society. You’re struggling to find someone you’re as compatible with and who knows you as well as Benedict, all while trying to quell your ever-growing feelings for him. Shenanigans ensue.

A/N: they're so in their evermore era i can't

July 7, 1814 - The expectations were as high as the chandeliers at the Bridgerton Ball two nights prior. And the night did not disappoint. Our forgone diamond of the season made an appearance at the social event. A fact that is expected given the close relationship between the Beaumonts and Bridgertons, but a pleasant surprise given her recent absence from social happenings. While previously the center of attention, Miss Beaumont danced only once at the Bridgerton Ball with one Mr. Alexander Beaumont. Yes, dear reader, her brother. This leaves us with the lingering question: why did Miss Beaumont choose her brother over the allure of a potential match? It seems that Miss Beaumont is simply tired of the ton's social scene, or perhaps she has lost some of her shine now that her best friend has left for the countryside. 

He cleared his throat, rubbing his thumb on his lower lip. Finally meeting your eyes, he said, "Well, I was wondering if you'd want to marry me."

You choked, completely taken aback. "Are you alright, Anthony?" you asked, nervously laughing. "Was the whiskey too strong for you after all?"

He pinched his nose, annoyed at your flippant response, but couldn't help the chuckle that escaped his lips. "Be quiet! I'm trying to help you!" he said, laughing.

You were in hysterics now, too. "Help me?! Help me how, pray tell," you managed to get out between giggles.

"You are impossible! How Benedict deals with you so regularly, I have no idea!" he shot back, poking you in the arm as he said each word.

You gasped in mock offense. "Low blow, Anthony, even for you," you said, shaking your head at him, unable to keep from laughing. "Surely you're joking. Why should I let you marry me?"

"Let me marry– Bloody hell, Y/N, and excuse my language, but really, I am coming from a good place here, and you are making it so difficult," he responded, clearly exasperated by your inability to take him seriously.

You ceased laughing and looked at him directly, cocking your head and widening your eyes when you realized he was being sincere. "Anthony? Surely you're joking, right? Does Alex know? He'll kill you if he finds out you proposed to his little sister."

He sighed deeply, shifting in his seat. "Look, I am not joking. But let me explain first, and then you can ask me questions."

You could do little but stare at him, lips parted in confusion. "Go on, then," you said finally, very interested in hearing an explanation for this incredibly unexpected proposal.

Anthony looked over to where Alex was sitting, deep in conversation with your father, and then looked back to you. He turned in his seat so he was fully facing you, one hand on the back of his chair and the other on his knee, contemplating how best to explain himself without sounding insane. "I know it sounds like a crazy idea. Trust me, I can barely imagine it myself. But I do think it might be a good one," he said finally, hoping to get some kind of response from you, only to be met with a blank stare. You were still entirely unconvinced of his proposal, barely believing that he was being serious. 

"Listen, what you said two nights ago is not something I take lightly, given that you mean so much to us, to me and Benedict and our family. And I can see that you're having a rough go of it. The roughest go of it, actually," he continued.

"And you think marrying me will solve my problems because...?" you cut in, not quite following Anthony's logic.

"Well, I've been trying to explain my thought process for the past five minutes, but you're making it awfully hard, Y/N," he shot back, raising his eyebrows at you, amused. You rolled your eyes good-naturedly in response but sat back so you could let him continue.

"This might make more sense if I explain my side of things a bit more, actually," he decided, mentally rearranging what he was going to say to you. "Alex and Simon already know this, but my intention has never been to marry for love. Above all, I view marriage as a duty to my family. Since my father passed, I have been the one responsible for them, and they are the dearest thing in the world to me, as you well know."

At the mention of Edmund, you reached out and placed a hand on Anthony's, remembering how difficult it was for the family when his father passed. He shot you a grateful smile, covering your hand with his and clearing his throat before he continued speaking.

"I will be perfectly candid with you, Y/N, because you deserve nothing less. I was planning on looking for a wife next season, but even so, I believe that pursuing love is an unpleasant and unimportant endeavor, at least for me."

You gasped, slightly taken aback at his cynical views, though yours weren't much sunnier. "Don't you want to fall in love, Anthony? Don't you think you'll find a partnership like the one your parents had?" you prodded, overwhelmed by a sense of sadness. But you also felt somewhat understood, knowing now that Anthony had an unconventional view of marriage.

He gave you a knowing look, saying only, "Don't you?"

Knowing he had a point, you let up. "Fair enough, I suppose," you answered. Is that how you sounded when you spoke of getting married? You were completely disillusioned with the notion, but you had given it more than a few honest tries, while Anthony was set on never looking for a love match. It was quite ironic, seeing how much your parents loved each other and the love between Daphne and Simon, that you and Anthony had developed such depressing views on marriage. You saw Anthony nod in your direction, seemingly happy with your answer.

After a slight pause, Anthony winced, knowing he was about to share much more than he usually would. However, he knew that this would potentially benefit you both, so he fought through the discomfort. "Seeing my mother fall apart after Father died was awful to watch, and I would never want to cause someone that pain. My goal is not to find passion but to secure my family's future. And I was hoping to find someone who would want this different sort of partnership," he said, looking at you pointedly. You had already started connecting the dots in your head and thought you were catching on to where this was going now.

"So you want to have an unconventional marriage together, then?" you asked, hoping you had understood correctly.

He patted your hand, relieved you finally understood what he intended the proposal to sound like rather than the abrupt and blunt question he had asked earlier. "Yes, precisely. Of course, I want you to take as much time as you need to consider this decision since it is quite important. I doubt we would seek an expedited marriage license, but obviously, we can sort out the minutiae later if you decide to do this. There is no pressure one way or another, I simply wanted to give you an option you had probably not considered before," he said, searching your face for any reaction.

However, you remained guarded, still unsure about your feelings. Saying yes to this proposal would definitively mean saying no to Benedict. But Benedict had not even asked you anything, you argued internally. There was nothing to say no to. In fact, he had been the one to say no to you. But you didn't know if you were ready to give up all hope yet. Perhaps you were a fool, but then again, you always were when it came to your best friend.

If you accepted Anthony's proposal, would the now-permanent ache in your chest worsen at the knowledge that you could never have Benedict? Or would you feel better, getting closure Benedict would never give you?

You felt a surge of anger shoot up your spine. Why couldn't Benedict be the one asking you this? After twenty years, why was he the one who left you alone and confused while Anthony was left to pick up the broken pieces of you Ben left behind so carelessly? Even setting aside the added issue of your unrequited feelings for Benedict, Anthony was being a much better friend than him right now. But your anger dissipated quickly, dissolving into desperate sadness. You missed Ben so much; the short letters he had been sending were unsuccessful in placating the ever-growing need to feel his presence beside you. The overwhelming sense that something about you was missing was almost too much to handle, and you felt yourself going around in circles in your head about what you wanted to do.

You knew it could never be the same with Benedict regardless, so you reasoned that you would at least consider Anthony's proposal. You owed it to yourself to consider someone other than Benedict and something other than perpetual singledom without any children to raise or read to.

Realizing Anthony was patiently waiting for you to say something in response, you spoke up. "In theory, this doesn't sound like a terrible partnership," you started, laughing when Anthony snorted and muttered a short "Why, thank you."

"Shush! I'm trying to consider your proposal, and you're making it quite difficult to spend longer than twenty minutes with you, let alone the rest of my life," you joked, stomach dropping slightly when you mentioned the concept of forever. Pushing through your fear, you kept speaking, "I know you, Anthony Bridgerton. And I know you would not do something like this without a plan. So tell me your plan, and I will consider it and give you my answer once I have one."

Anthony couldn't help but laugh at your scolding tone, "You're not wrong." However, he knew he had to be careful about how he presented his reasoning for this proposal. It was no secret that he thought his brother a complete buffoon for refusing to marry you. Anyone could see that your best friend was madly in love with you, and Anthony was beyond confused as to why Benedict was being obtuse and frankly stupid when you so clearly loved him just as much.

It was hard to miss the alarmingly fond looks the two of you exchanged, not to mention what must be dozens of sketches of you in Benedict's studio, try as he might to make it look like there weren't that many. But what really made it the most obvious was Benedict's manner of speaking about you. It was beautiful to hear when Ben forgot himself and spent nearly an hour discussing a fascinating observation you had made about one of his paintings. Or when he saw Eloise reading a book you had read and launched into a speech about your genius way of interpreting a particular passage. Or even when Anthony inquired about any of the paintings of you in his studio and his brother began a lengthy explanation of how he wanted to paint your eyes in a way that captured your thoughtful yet soft gaze, in Ben's words. Benedict's unwavering and wholehearted admiration of you rivaled that of his parents. It seemed to Anthony that you were the sun, and Benedict was happy to be in your orbit if only to relish in the warmth and comfort you brought him. And the same could be said for you.

So, choosing his words carefully, Anthony avoided saying anything that would upset you, knowing you were still raw from Benedict's sudden departure a few weeks ago. "To start, a legal union between our families would only strengthen our bond, and I know we both would still like to remain close with our families after we are married."

Gauging a positive reaction from your raised eyebrows and slight nod, he continued. "Perhaps the most obvious advantage is that we would have the marriage we both want. I would, of course, encourage you to continue pursuing your studies after we were married, and though I would like to have children, and I know you do as well, I am in no particular rush if you don't feel ready yet," he continued.

To be fair, Anthony made a compelling argument. Although your ideal marriage was still the one you had imagined with Benedict as a child, Anthony was realistically the best option for you, especially with the men of the ton being as dreadful as they were and Ben off in the countryside for who knows how long.

"I don't want to feel suffocated by my husband, Anthony," you warned, earning a laugh from him.

"I know you think I'm insane, but I promise I don't want to be a suffocating husband. We want a lot of the same things, just for different reasons," he responded, ready to answer any and all rebuttals you had. Anthony knew this would be a difficult decision, and he had come prepared with the utmost patience to ensure he got rid of all of your doubts to the best of his abilities. Having watched you grow up and grown up alongside you, he had a deep fondness for you, often feeling as protective over you as he did over Eloise or Daphne. Anthony cared about you and wanted the best for you, no matter what that might entail. And if he could find a wife a season earlier than he had expected while you got what you deserved, that was just an added bonus.

In the back of his mind, Anthony hoped that if you accepted his proposal, Benedict might come to his senses before the engagement progressed too far. But he would be a fool to count on his brother to do so, based on how Ben had acted so far. Anthony knew it would be cruel to tell you this and raise your spirits only to be disappointed again. If it came to it, Anthony would be happy to marry you. It was a very practical union, and Anthony quite liked practical things.

"It makes sense, in a way, I suppose. We do want similar things," you muttered to yourself. "And you'd let me read as much as I wanted?" you asked, needing reassurance.

"I promise," answered Anthony, smiling sweetly at you. "Besides, we are already very acquainted with one another, having grown up together, and I'm sure it'd be good fun to be married. Well, at least I think so. And you know me well enough to be able to make that decision for yourself."

You nodded thoughtfully, mulling over all of the possible caveats you could think of to bring up to Anthony. If you were going to go through with this, you needed to be absolutely sure that it was what you wanted. Although it was getting difficult to find negatives about this possible union. It seemed that you would have much more agency with Anthony than if you were married to anyone else, bar Benedict, or as a spinster.

"What about Alex?" you settled on asking. "Have you talked about this with him?"

Both of you subconsciously turned to look at your older brother and then at each other. Anthony gave a slight shake of his head. "No, not yet. But I have a feeling he'll understand and even be supportive. Especially after the other night. And especially now that Benedict left."

You furrowed your brow, confused. What did Anthony mean, especially now that Benedict left? You were about to ask for clarification when Anthony cut in.

"Anyway, don't worry about Alex. I will talk to him and your father, and I know they will be on board with whatever you choose. So all you have to do is decide if this is something you want to do or not," he said quickly, trying to make up for the fact that he had revealed too much before. Anthony knew Alex had similar feelings to Anthony, perhaps even more pent-up anger at Benedict than he did since Benedict was hurting Alex's little sister. But he hadn't meant to tell you so directly. Anthony mentally kicked himself for rubbing salt on your metaphorical wound. Although it seemed that you had let go of his comment, for now, he noted as he watched you rubbing your temples, deep in thought.

You sighed deeply, coming to the realization that this could be it. This decision could change your life forever, and perhaps Benedict's life, depending on how he handled the news. If you accepted the proposal, of course. You couldn't help but feel a slight twinge of guilt, knowing that you could never feel for Anthony the same way you felt about Benedict.

"And you'd be alright with me not being in love with you? I don't think I can do that again. After Benedict," you said softly, still wanting to avoid thinking about losing him as much as possible.

"Yes, I would prefer it, actually," said Anthony, smiling at you. But his playful demeanor was wrapped in a careful tenderness. He understood you better than most people, having learned to see you, above all, through Benedict's eyes. He knew you were terrified. Of being married and not being married, of losing yourself and of staying exactly the same as you were now.

He was terrified, too, to be honest. He knew Benedict would be impossibly angry with him, even though he really had no reason to be, and feared their relationship could be fractured. Not to mention that Anthony had been dreading marriage ever since that fateful day his father fell ill from a bee sting, leaving his mother alone in the empty shell of their loving partnership. He supposed the two of you did sort of make sense in a peculiar way.

"Alright, go away, please," you shooed Anthony away. "I have to actually think about it now. But no matter what happens, I want you to know I'm grateful for your offer. I know it's coming from a very generous place, and it really does mean the world," you added, squeezing his hand as he stood up.

"Of course, Y/N. I'm not Benedict, but you're very important to me nonetheless. Take as much time as you need," he responded, returning your squeeze and making his way over to Colin and Theo, giving you space to mull over your decision.

That was precisely the situation, you thought. Anthony wasn't Benedict. And you had to decide whether or not that was good enough for you. It was a very compelling offer, and you knew it might be your only chance to have anything close to the sort of life you had hoped to have before Henri and the rest of the men of the ton so pointedly crushed your dreams. Benedict was the only reason not to marry Anthony, and he had been quite clear in saying that he wouldn't marry you. But you wanted to enjoy a few more days of imagining that Ben could be yours in some capacity before you had to move on from him forever.

---

Shoving a pile of unsent letters aside, Benedict set a fresh sheet of paper down and started yet another letter he was unlikely to send to you. Now that he had ceased going to parties and bringing home a different woman every night, he found himself with ample bouts of time that he dedicated almost exclusively to thinking about you.

With each new letter you sent, Benedict found himself lost in your words, re-reading them constantly and clinging to any fragment of you that he could still claim as his. In response, he wrote pages and pages of prose he would never send. These ranged from letters he could plausibly send to you, responding to every comment you had made about the book you had read that day. Others were less tame. Sometimes, he found himself unable to keep his overflowing feelings inside of him any longer, choosing instead to write heart-wrenching confessions of a love so deep and all-consuming that it permeated every fiber of his being. But Anthony's words reverberated in his head, warning him not to lead you on, every time he contemplated addressing these letters.

But Benedict loved you. The real, soul-crushing sort of love that only came once in a lifetime. The kind of love that grew from years of being by your side, knowing every detail of you, and still wanting to know more. He was far past the point of denying it and had now stumbled on an agonizing feeling of wanting. He wanted you by his side while he painted, quietly discussing the colors or the shading he was working on. He wanted to put his head in your lap as you sat in the garden, feeling your fingers running softly through his hair. He wanted to look over at night and find your sleeping form beside him, less than an arm's length away as he fell asleep holding you. Most of all, he wanted to be content in the knowledge that he could hold your hand, breathe in your scent, and twist your hair in his fingers as he kissed you every single day for the rest of his life. 

The moment in your garden by the rose bushes from the day before he left, where he came so close to kissing you, haunted his every waking moment. He couldn't seem to forget the way your lips parted, moving ever so slightly closer to his. The feeling of your soft breath against his skin, luring him in. He had been so close to just giving in and touching your expectant lips with his. It was all he had dreamed about doing ever since he had come back from Oxford and felt you in his arms, realizing that he never wanted to spend another day apart from you. He still wondered what would have happened if he had just done it. If he had just leaned over a few inches to join your lips and brushed his thumb on your cheek as he grabbed your waist. But he hadn't. Instead he had fled to the countryside, where he was missing you more than ever and ridden with jealousy at the thought of you with another man. 

Benedict didn't know if the ache of longing would ever fade. All he knew was that you were a permanent mark left on him he would never be able to wash off even if he wanted to. A part of him would always be you. The proof of that was on his desk cluttered with letters that would never find their way to you and in his studio housing nearly a dozen unfinished portraits of you.

Clutching to a sliver of hope, he held onto the fact that no news of your engagement had reached him. Yet, each day brought with it a tormenting dread as he approached his unopened letters, torn between the desperate hope for a letter from you and the paralyzing fear that he would receive an invitation to your wedding. But for now, he could still pretend you were his, at least partially.

—

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[zorosimpclub]

A new life – Toji Comfort (SFW)

⊹˚. ♡ Summary: In which Toji is hired to assassinate the reader but ends up comforting her instead.

⊹˚. ♡ Trigger warning: implied severely depressed reader, implied attempt, happy ending, comfort

⊹˚. ♡ Word count: 3.6k

⊹˚. ♡ Author's note: sorry I've been MIA – life is hectic, hope you're all okay! enjoy this angsty but happy ending comfort piece <3

“Toji Zenin. Handsome and knows it. Hired to assassinate me. Motivated solely by financial gain.”

She said out loud to him, sensing his presence behind her, not looking up from her glass.

"That's me, spot on."

The words that left his lips were low, calm, and coolly spoken. He had a habit of speaking with an even tone regardless of the circumstances or context. He had been standing there behind her, taking in every detail.

His words were short, but he took a moment to drink in her image before him. She wasn't just beautiful, she was breathtakingly gorgeous. Despite this, his eyes maintained a steady, unreadable demeanour as he answered her question without adding anything else.

She chuckled a little and motioned for him to sit down beside her, sliding a full glass of whiskey to him.

He paused for a brief yet significant moment before he slowly took a seat next to her. He took a sip from the glass of whiskey offered to him before he replied, "You sound rather nonchalant about the fact that I'm here to take your life."

“Mm. Yeah. Doesn’t really bother me.” She took a sip and looked ahead of her, watching a couple canoodling together. Couples made her sick. It was only a matter of time before one of them disappointed the other.

He took in her words and her mannerisms, his gaze shifting from her to the couple briefly, before he looked back at her with a raised brow, "I see... you really aren't fazed by the fact that I'm here to end you? You must be a very confident woman then."

“No. Just a woman who has nothing left to be here for.”

The quietness in the air was palpable as his eyes remained on her. It was a somewhat unexpected reply from her. His lips pulled into a thin line, and his eyebrows slanted down, his eyes becoming cold and sharp, but they quickly resumed their usual neutral expression. He took a drink from his glass, "You really have nothing left to exist for?"

“Nope.”

"Huh..." He spoke with a slight air of curiosity. But his tone quickly returned to its previous stoic state. "That's quite pitiful. Mind if I ask why?"

“So guy who hired you to assassinate me is actually my ex boyfriend. Well, he was married. And I found out. Turns out my 4 years with him was just a lie.” She downed her drink, it was bitter but not as bitter as her current reality.

"Ah, a typical married-man affair then." He said with a soft chuckle. He was only slightly amused by the situation. The fact that his mission was due to a failed relationship wasn't really worth his attention. He took another sip.

His eyes scanned her, taking in the way she was sitting, the way she had spoken... she clearly had a nihilistic attitude toward life. She was apathetic. Something about it was compelling. His head tilted slightly to the side without him realising it, as his eyes never broke away from her. He took a drink. "Tell me, miss..."

“(Y/N) Fushiguro.”

“That's a pretty name." He spoke in the same calm that he always does, but in her presence, he felt somewhat differently. Maybe it was due to her beauty, maybe it was due to her unusual attitude, eitherway, he was intrigued. The way she accepted her impending assassination was oddly intriguing to him.

"So... is this a habit of yours? Drinking, I mean.”

“Only when I find out my last 4 years of my life was a lie.” She chuckled dryly, swirling the cup in her hand… not taking any notice of the environment around her.

"So? You're still young. Your whole life ahead of you, yet you'd just willingly let it go..." He spoke with a hint of a sigh.

“And you? Your story I mean.”

His gaze remained on her, unwavering. "You're asking me about my story? Me?" The question took him by surprise, but it didn't take him long to answer it.

"Why should I divulge such details to you?" He spoke with a soft smirk.

“Because you look like you’re lonely.”

The words that she spoke were like daggers to his heart. They struck him right where it hurt. He was silent for a while, not responding, simply continuing to stare at her. It was difficult to find an appropriate answer without betraying his feelings and his emotions. Eventually, he responded, "And what made you believe that?"

"Your eyes, they look lonely." She said softly, treading lightly.

His eyebrows furrowed slightly. She was perceptive enough to notice the look of his eyes and interpret it as loneliness. But he wouldn't show that he was slightly touched by her words. He was silent, the only sound coming from him was the sound of his breathing.

Then he spoke with a slight grin, "Well, you're not entirely wrong. The eyes are indeed a window into one's heart..."

She smiled a little, she was breath taking, "That's true. So make it quick."

"Make what quick?" He smirked and raised a brow, his tone was mocking. "Are you telling me to assassinate you?"

"Precisely, that's what you're here for right?"

His grin only widens. "You're so calm about the fact that you're going to die... Do you have no desire to live at all?" He spoke the words in an aloof demeanor, but he was genuinely curious, something about her tugged at him. He could have just finished his mission and then walked away. It was good money too. But he just couldn’t for some reason.

She looked up at him emotionlessly, "I mean, there's nothing left for me."

"Hmmm... no fear... no attachments, no desire to keep living... not even a single bit of emotion." His eyes remained on her, analysing her, but his expression remained unchanged. He wondered how someone could be so apathetic.

"Are you?"

His eyes narrowed slightly, and a smile played at the edges of his lip, "Am I what exactly?"

"Happy?"

"Happy?" She caught him off guard with her word choice. His usual aloof demeanor cracked a little, and he let out a small chuckle.

"Ah, that word. I don't remember the last time I was truly happy, if ever. But no, in this moment, the answer is no."

She took his hand and placed it on hers. A look of surprise crossed his expression for a second before he looked back up at her. His eyes remained on her as his hand remained on hers, but neither of them spoke. A quiet tension filled the air.

"Toji was it? How about yourself?"

"Someone to live for?" He paused for a little before he continued. "Not anymore... At least that's what I say to myself." He chuckled dryly. "If you're asking me about my past, then yes, I did have someone to live for until I lost them."

"Then you know what it feels like." She said softly, looking into the distance.

He didn’t speak. His words were true, and he could empathise with her situation. Though, there were many differences between her and him, but their pain was one and the same. He remained still, thinking for a second, not breaking contact as his hand remained on hers.

"Would you want things to end?"

It was a bold question coming from her. No one had ever asked him something like that. Not like his answer would make a difference, but he would answer truthfully eitherway. He shifted his weight, but his hand didn’t leave hers, "Sometimes... yeah."

In her presence, he felt a strange comfort. It was unusual for him, and it was quite unexpected. But still, he felt at ease with her next to him. A light warmth washed over him, and for a brief moment, the loneliness he always felt was diminished. The silence between them continued for a while, the only sounds were their quiet breathing.

He couldn’t deny that he was somewhat broken. A loneliness that had been with him for most of his life, the pain of loss that ate at his heart, the despair that he felt on a daily basis, they were all slowly eroding him. She was broken, too, he could tell that much. The thought made him somewhat sad, knowing all that had happened to her.

"What are we but two souls that are lost?" She whispered, her voice trembling slightly.

He watched as she calmly drank her drink, taking in every movement she made. Though his response had been slow and hesitating, he felt something stir within him at her suggestion.

"You know..." He spoke after a few moments, "There are many things that we don't know. How life would play out, if we would be truly happy... or would our lives end up worse off."

She traced his lip scar, "You... this has a dark story, doesn’t it?”

The touch of her fingernails running against his scar only gave him goosebumps. She was right in guessing that his scar was the product of the pain he endured from his clan. He didn't say a word, but from the slight tightening of his jaw, it revealed the truth without the need for words.

She stroked it gently and smiled, her smile not reaching her eyes. He didn't pull away, but his expression held a touch of surprise. They had only known for each other for a short time, yet her action had caught him off guard. His hand squeezed hers in response, his gaze never leaving hers.

"Goodbye, Toji." She whispered and got up, pulling on her jacket weaving in and out of partygoers to leave the bar.

He was frozen in his seat, his mind trying to make sense of her last words. It didn't take him long to reach the conclusion that those were her final words. But he wouldn't let her simply go without trying to show her that live was worth living. He doesn’t know why he cared or why he quickly dashed after her, rushing through the streets to search for her. But he did.

She stood by the bridge, overlooking the city. Watching as the streetlights twinkled softly in the distance, the wind blowing through her wispy hair.

He soon found her by the side of the bridge. He slowed his pace as he approached her from behind, trying to gauge the situation. He could tell that she was standing near the bridge with one goal in mind.

"Wait..."

She turned to him, "Toji?"

His eyes remained on her as her gaze locked with his. "Your last words... they were goodbye."

"You figured it out, huh?"

"I'm not letting you give up." He responded softly, his voice holding a hint of determination. He took a few steps forward and gently placed a hand on her shoulder, his breath catching slightly.

"...Why? Doesn't this make your job easier?"

"Easier?" His voice contained a touch of disbelief. "That's what you think? That it's all about a job?" He sighed, his grip tightening around her shoulder. "You're a person, just like me... a human being. And I would be a terrible person, if I just stood by and let you... throw it all away."

She chuckled dryly, "You're a hired assassin."

"Even an assassin has a heart." The hand on her shoulder remained firm, and he looked right into her eyes, his gaze intent. "And as a person with a heart, I could never stand to watch you give up like this."

He saw a glimpse of her inner torment as the quivering of her lips suggested she was trying to hold back her emotions. He felt pity and sadness for her. But there was only one thing that he could do in that moment. He silently brought his index finger to her lips and gently traced it against them. Slowly, his touch lingered as his finger stayed there for a couple of seconds before he withdrew it. "Don't."

As his finger ran against her lips, her heart skipped a beat, and she could feel something stir within her. A surge of adrenaline rushed through her system, stirring excitement and something else she couldn't quite define. A strange feeling rose within her heart, and for a brief moment, she felt her chest grow tight as she tried to breathe. In that singular act, he had broken the ice between them. It was only a touch of a stranger, but it felt like so much more.

"I have no where left to go... no money to my name...this is easier."

The words had caught him off guard, and he felt a strange twinge of concern and sadness as his eyes remained on her. She sounded... so hopeless. Without a trace of hesitance, he stepped forward, his body filling the gap between them. His hands gently rested on her shoulders, and he looked into her eyes. He was close, very close to her, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he spoke quietly once again, his voice containing a hint of urgency. "You have me."

"You don’t even know me.”

"A stranger can become a companion, and maybe even more." He spoke softly, his gaze never leaving hers. "Let me be the person by your side. I'll give you a reason to try and live..."

She looked up at him, tears welling up in her eyes, "Why would you do that for me...?"

“You're deserving of love.” He said simply enough, his hold on her shoulder tightening. "You're broken and hurt, but I don't see you as a pathetic, nobody has been. I see a person, a human being who's suffered too much in her life. And you deserve to be loved, cared for, and cherished."

Her breath hitched as she searched his eyes for deception, but she couldn't find any.

He was being truthful. Every word that he had spoken was sincere. He didn't see her as pathetic in any way. He saw her for who she was... a human.

"And even though we met for just a short while, I feel a connection between us. I feel it in my gut and in my heart that you and I have much more to give each other. You're not alone anymore. I'm here...."

He instinctively wrapped his arm around her and he felt her body pressed against his own as she hugged him close. He was taken aback by her embrace as he hadn't felt another body this close to his in years. Gentle sobs eminated from her chest as she buried herself into his, allowing his warmth to comfort her. He allowed the embrace to continue, and the longer she stayed within his arms, the more his heart raced.

He could feel himself becoming attached to her, but he didn't mind.

A sudden snowflake brushed her cheeks, and they both looked up to see the lone one softly flutter down to the ground. The night sky was filled with a soft flurry of snow, and the view was breathtaking. His eyes stayed locked on the falling snowflakes, fascinated with their beauty and graceful movements. As his gaze slowly moved back to hers, he noticed the small droplets of moisture on her cheek. He gently brushed them away with the pad of his thumb, and their faces remained close to each other, his heartbeat increasing with every passing moment.

"I..." She trailed off, looking into his eyes defeated by her own thoughts.

He remained silent and kept watching her with a slight smile on his lips, his eyes never leaving her own. The snowfall slowly increased in its intensity, covering the ground in a white blanket, and a gentle wind danced around them. The night sky was beautiful, and their small, intimate moment felt like time itself had stopped. The tension and excitement were building in the air, and his heartbeat was steadily growing faster, his breath coming in a little short.

"I want to live..."

His own heart jumped with joy at her words, and he closed the gap between them. He embraced her once again and pulled her close to his chest. His hand tightened around her shoulder, and he spoke softly, his voice tinged with emotion.

"Then live..." He gently brushed the tears off her cheeks and looked straight into her eyes, his gaze intent and unwavering.

His breath brushed her own, and his other hand moved from her shoulder to the base of her neck, fingers grazing it ever so gently. Then, the lightness of their breaths suddenly grew heavier, as if their breathing was in sync with each other. He remained so close to her that he could feel the heat of her body against his own. His gaze never leaving hers, their eyes locked and their lips mere inches apart.

As the space between them finally closed, the moment exploded with a powerful shock. It was as if, in that single instant, the tension that had built between them, the excitement, and the buildup of their breath, all released in an intense burst. They had finally come together, their lips finally meeting in a fiery, passionate kiss. Their mouths entwined, their tongues intertwined, their breathing intertwined, and their hearts beat as one. The intensity of their kiss only grew as they remained locked in it, their breath becoming faster and more frenzied as the moment intensified.

"Did you...feel that too?"

"...Yes," he replied with a breathy voice, still coming down from the incredible high of their kiss. The nearness of her skin still lingered in his senses, and his heart continued to beat at a rapid pace. "I felt it..." His eyes remained locked on hers, his gaze not faltering. "I felt it all.."

His gaze remained locked on hers. They shared a silent moment between them, their eyes remaining connected as they were still processing the sudden rush of emotions from their kiss. The tension was palpable in the air, as if they were still bound by that powerful surge of emotions from moments ago. He saw her mouth open slightly, as if trying to say something...

She smiled a little, "Looks like you failed your mission."

A smirk tugged on his lips, and his gaze softened slightly when she smiled. "Failed?" He asked, his tone now filled with a hint of amusement.

"Yeah, you were hired to assassinate me, yet instead you took me into your life."

"And I don't see that as a failure," he replied, his voice becoming softer and more vulnerable. "On the contrary, in my book," he added, his voice picking up a teasing tone again. "I'd say this was a remarkable success."

“Take me home…”

"Home?" he asked softly, his voice tinged with surprise. Then a sly grin appeared on his lips, and his arms tightened around her. "Okay..." He paused and added, "But there are conditions.”

"What conditions?"

He pulled her slightly closer as she shifted her body, resting her head on his shoulders. He looked at her for a moment and spoke softly, his breath soft on her skin. "One..." he started, his voice slightly rumbling. "You must promise to never give up to this world. Never let anyone or anything take away your worth. Always believe in yourself. And... never, ever give in to despair..."

"The second condition..." he continued softly, his breath still light on her skin as his thumb continued the soothing gesture, gently wiping away her tears. "Is that you must give yourself a chance. Give life another shot."

He let out a small breath, relieved that he had gotten her to agree to give herself another chance. “The last condition…” he started, and as he spoke, he felt the tension grow once again, the excitement palpable in the air.

The snow gently coated the ground around them as the silent night carried only the sound of the flakes slowly falling down, the silence only momentarily interrupted by their breath. “Is that…” he paused and cleared his throat, making sure to find the right words, “you must promise to let me guide you. To let me protect you. To let me try and love you…”

She felt her tears well up again. His grip on her shoulder tightened again as he felt her body tremble with the sudden urge to cry. He knew the words had hit home for her, and he felt a surge of protective fondness for her, his thumb gently stroking her cheek where the tears were running down. It was a tender gesture, and his eyes remained on her.

"Don't," he whispered softly, his tone carrying a hint of concern. "No more tears..."

She grinned as he wiped her eyes, "A new life."

"A new life," he repeated with a smirk, and his hands moved to run through her hair, letting his fingers drift down to brush her cheeks, and his gaze never left her own, still locked onto her eyes.

"Together." he added softly.

The night was still, and every sound had grown quiet around them, as if the world had stopped to witness this intimate moment. The snow continued its silent descent, covering them in a white blanket as the atmosphere grew heavy. His fingers remained on her cheeks, his gaze never leaving her eyes.

His heartbeat was a steady thump in his chest, his chest moving slightly with each breath. Their lips were just mere inches away, their breaths brushing against each other just slightly. Each moment seemed to stretch out infinitely as their eyes remained locked on each other.

[obae-me]

Cravings

Hii, this is a little off brand for me (but not by much, Lucifer is essentially my brand) but I needed to write some vampire Lucifer.

I'm sorry if this is poorly written, as much as I wish it were so, I feel like I absolutely suck (vampire pun not intended) writing some more...spicy stuff.

Anyways, this is fairly suggestive so minors begone.

18+ Only

--

CW: Biting, blood, suggestive language. The stuff that comes with vampires, ya know? Second Person fic. Gender neutral. Lucifer's very needy in this, not sorry about it.

(Based off the event, not an AU)

Despite the absolute absurdity of the idea that demons could transfer and turn into vampires as easily as humans spread sinus infections, you’d learned to roll with it. After all, this was just a single drop in the bucket of all the crazy things you’d seen. The brothers recovering from their quarantine were still giving you a wide berth, typically sprinting away from you before temptations got the better of them. However, there was one demon-turned-vampire that seemed to be struggling the hardest. 

Lucifer- rather than take the responsibility upon himself- ordered you to stay away. He was not to be approached, talked to, sought after, etc. You were to leave well enough alone. While there were several things you wanted to say to that, you respected his wishes. Although, it’s not like you could stay out of the House. You still had your attendant duties to work on. Which meant, despite your best efforts, you’d spot him down the hall or pass him in the kitchen. Every time his eyes landed on you, he looked furious, frightened, but then all of that melted away quickly and blossomed into a blush. That’s when you knew exactly why he didn’t want to see you. Seems that he couldn’t control his pride as easily in this vampiric condition. His footsteps would turn towards you, his hands twitching in your direction, and then he would strut away from you, off towards the darkness. 

And that’s the way it continued for a while. Little flickers of fleeting moments with softly uttered names and melting gazes. You knew what he wanted, you weren’t stupid. Yet…you had half a mind to give it to him. 

You weren’t exactly wandering the halls for him at this time of night, just checking to make sure the House was…in proper order before you would have to leave that night. Bumping into Lucifer as you turned the corner of the upper floor potentially in the direction of his bedroom was just a…happy accident. Although, the vampire in question seemed upset at first. His hands couldn’t help but reach towards your shoulders to steady you. In a proper Prideful manner, he furrowed his brows and opened his mouth to give you a stern scolding. You could see his little temporary fangs peeking out below his top lip. “I told you-” he started to say, his voice almost cracking with strain. He cleared his throat and his tone deepened. “I told you to stay away.”

Some force deep inside you caused a smirk to curl on your lips. “And I assure you, I’m doing my utmost to avoid you, but you seem to keep finding me. I wonder why that is?” 

The expression painted over his face suggested he didn’t find this situation as humorous as you did, although there was still a little rosy color adorning his cheekbones and the tips of his ears. The hands that settled on your shoulders moved forward slowly, the curves of his fingers reaching back to your shoulder blades. This gentle touch was in direct contrast to the growl in his voice. He was trying much too hard… “Your foolishness is getting out of hand. I would’ve thought even someone as idiotic as you had the better sense to stay away from a vampire.” 

You hummed in a bit of disappointment at his words, but then you shrugged your shoulders. “You know...you have this awful habit of using bitter words to cover up your feelings.” Your hand lifted to rest against his chest. Air seemed to catch in his throat as you did so. You could feel his heart pounding in his chest. “So sensitive like this…” You teased him. “Why don’t you just tell me what you really feel?” 

It was almost as if you could feel him melting in your hands. This whole cold and dominant persona was just a smokescreen trying to cover up the fact that he was craving you and desperate for it. His eyes slowly fluttered as the stern features to his body language chipped away. He whispered your name in a heavy breath, leaning a little forward before stopping himself. Little twitches in his fingertips and the shudder in his lungs clued you in to how close he was to breaking. However, his pride was not fully gone it seemed. You both were still out in the hallway and he was hesitant to lose himself where others could see. He went to stand back up straight, moving away from you, but you stopped him with a hand curling back around his neck, forcing your foreheads to touch. That seemed to be the last thing he could handle. His breath was practically a pant now. Without saying another word, he picked you up in all his demonic strength and shut you and him inside his bedroom, pressing you up against the bedroom door. His nose rubbed against your cheek. It was taking everything in him to resist this, you knew that much.

“I…” His voice wavered. “I need you.” There was a dulcet tone to his words, his voice laced with a feathery softness. “I told myself I was simply content with looking at you, but…” That confirmed things for you. Your little meetings weren’t by accident. He’d been intentionally seeking you out to stare at you for a moment before scurrying off. “But I…can’t handle this…ache any longer.” His face lowered, his breath hot as his mouth hovered over the exposed part of your neck. He was so close, so hungry, and yet, he waited. “Do…I have permission?” A simple statement meant to come off as professional, but came off as a beg. 

There was a sort of pride that built up in your chest at the thought of being this wanted, this needed. A pleasureful sort of smugness at hearing Lucifer Morningstar nearly whine for something as simple as a taste of your blood. “Yes,” you replied, your body warm.  

His fingers went up to the back of your head, his grasp carefully tightening around your hair as he pulled your head aside, exposing your neck more. Lucifer held his breath in excitement, his soft lips kissing different areas of your skin before he found his preferred spot. No matter your thoughts or fears about pain, being bitten by a vampire wasn’t terrible at all. You felt the pinch, but shortly after, a comforting heat pooled in your body, as if you could feel a remedy pumping through your veins. The heat was followed by a tingling, your body almost numb to the pain yet extremely sensitive to other sensations. You gasped his name aloud which made him visibly squirm.

You could tell the punctures were deep, blood trickling out of you from the wounds, but immediately being sucked away and swallowed. A low rumble came from the base of Lucifer’s throat, the sound rising in pitch till it almost became a needy whine. For a moment, it seemed as if his knees went weak, but he continued to drink, the hand in your hair moving to the middle of your back, pulling you closer to him. He pulled away from your skin to refill his lungs in a gasp before biting you again in a different spot. You weren’t sure if he was too enamored to speak or too embarrassed to, but you hoped from the little moans that reverberated in his chest like purrs meant that you tasted good. 

He was gentle with it, kissing you in the spots he bit like little apologies. No blood touched your clothes either. Any drop you felt trailing down your skin was quickly lapped up by his tongue. Your name was muttered a few times in a breathy way in the few occasions his mouth was away from your body. His thighs rubbed against yours as he seemed to try to sink further into you, his knee almost pressed up between your legs.

For a long while, it was just you both nearly entangled in each other against his door, your breathing slowly falling into sync with his. His first frantic drinks were now slowly winding down. He was calming, taking you in tenderly now, appreciating every drop, every taste. His hand moved from your back to cup your cheek as he traced your jaw in kisses as he cooed before going back to your blood. He finally stopped feeding when he could tell you were having a hard time standing upright which wasn't entirely due to blood loss. A few last pecks from his red-stained lips and licks from his grateful tongue seemed to seal up your wounds but still leave marks which he traced over with the tip of his finger, proud of his work. He lifted you up into his arms and over to the couch where you both could rest, his face still resting in the crook of your neck, his new favorite place.

[vividachromatic]

Meant To Stay The Worst - Pt. 3

Desc. : Reader meets Alastor’s mother for the first time!

Alastor x reader

Tags: ongoing, marriage, confessions / proposals, manipulation and toxic relationships, canon typical violence and language

((<- Pt. 2 - Pt. 4 ->))

*

To say you were nervous about meeting his mother would be an understatement. If she didn't like you, that would probably be THE dealbreaker, considering the way Alastor talks about her - like she is the most important person in his life.

Alastor found your uneasiness funny and just told you to relax. He told you his mother wasn't a scary person. And she has been looking forward to meeting you for a very long time; ever since Alastor mentioned he was seeing a girl he really liked she's been beyond excited and repeatedly asked him if he'd invite her over.

"That's not what I'm concerned about - I'm concerned about me! I know how to make a bad impression, not how to make a good one..." Not that you cared about the impression you made on other people most of the time. Most of the people you knew where snobs who just pretended to like you anyway.

"Darling. Don't worry about making a perfect impression, my mother is a kind person. She can even see inside people's souls~" He chuckled, "literally..."

"Yeah, I'm not so sure if that makes me feel so much better..."

Plus, the way Alastor seemed to enjoy your anxiousness didn't help either.

Anyway, there was no postponing this you suppose, so you got ready to walk to his mother's house. She seems to live nearby.

Alastor was satisfied with the whole situation right now. After he first decided he was going to confess his feelings to you he was scared of how everything would play out. He likes to be in control of any situation - and even though he tried his best to do that, he still couldn't predict the actual feelings part.

But your reaction to him killing someone was the most confusing thing for him.

You were clearly shocked and probably even traumatized by the event. But not even once did you seem scared of him.

It's more the opposite. Just like him, you were more of a classy person - never really seeking out other's people's touch too much. But after the incident this changed. Not only did you immideatly lean into him when when he tried to comfort you when you were crying, you also seeked out and accepted his touch warmly every single time after the incident.

This odd reaction to seeing someone murder someone else in cold-blood lead him to a specific conclusion: You didn't regard the situation that way. You actually saw it as him protecting you. And ever since that day, you've seen him as your protector. Which would mean that him trying to manipulate you into thinking exactly that actually worked.

But there is one problem with that: he thinks you are way too smart to just fall for his simple manipulation tactic like that. Which is why he at first considered the possibility that you were only pretending to be okay with it and would try to tell someone else as soon as he let you go. But you never did that. Which must mean that you are being willfully immoral.

So, you knew he was manipulating you and played along?

He thought - maybe you wanted to be protected? Wanted to be guided?

Maybe it was because you had a bad father figure in your life or maybe your mind was just a little more twisted than he originally thought?

In any case, this would work for him. You wanting to be guided - him wanting to guide you.

If he played this well - he could very quickly turn this into making you marry him, which could, if you ever changed your mind about him, trap you into the relationship anyway. Even if you would find out about his more sinister hobbies...

It would disappoint him to have that kind of relationship with you, yes, but it could also end with both of you having the ideal relationship - supporting even your most twisted desires while also having a loving husband and wife - later maybe even family.

The two of you approached the house of Alastor's mother now.

His two favorite people were about to meet, and if the meeting went well he was sure he would ask your father for your hand at his meeting with him.

Alastor quietly knocked on the door, while you were standing more behind him than next to him.

Then the door opened, revealing a petite, middle-aged woman with beautiful curly hair. Her face immideatly turned soft when she spotted her son. "Alastor, my dear..." she pulled him towards her into a warm embrace and he, too, had a genuine smile on his face as he leaned down to hug her.

You smiled watching the two of them. A genuine warm embrace between family members isn't something you got to see very often.

When Alastor pulled away from the hug, he pulled you to his side by your waist, so that you were now facing his mother.

...Wait, how should you greet her? Should you shake hands? Bow? ...

In the end you just awkwardly waved at her. The woman looked confused for a second, before she just pulled you into a hug as well. You were surprised, so you forgot reciprocating before she already stepped away from you.

Great, now you made an awkward fool of yourself.

She still held on to your arms, as she looked you up an down. "I, uh- I'm... Y/N?"

The woman let out a small laugh and petted you on the head. "Oh, I know that sweetie, what I didn't know is that you were such a timid one! Come on in, you two. Dinner is almost ready!"

You carefully stepped into the house looking back at Alastor, who just smiled at you and took off your coat to hang it on the wardrobe.

"I'm going to go to get something for a minute, if that's okay, darling? I'll be right back!" He declared and pushed you into the room his mother was in. Before you could protest, he was already gone.

Great. For someone who claims to like you, he seems to really enjoy putting you in uncomfortable situations.

His mother was currently finishing off some rice with different sorts of vegetables and seasonings... "Oh honey, could you please help and cut the rest of these onions for me? Only if it's okay!" She asked you with a warm smile.

Oh oh. Now your horrendous cooking skills would come to show. You were a downright horrible cook - everytime you touched a stove something or someone, would burn. And you never had to cook before... you were rich. Others just did that for you...

But... you were able to cut some onions at least right? Haha...

"Of course, ma'am..!" You smiled nervously. Hoping she wouldn't notice your concern as you picked up one of the knives...

"Oh no, dear! You can't take that knife to cut an onion!" She chuckled, taking the knife from you and handing you a different one.

Nice. Not embarrassing at all.

Now, while you were trying to complete the extremely challenging task of cutting this onion - his mother turned to the other side of the kitchen to finish preparing the rice again.

"You know, I was pretty excited when Al told me that he finally met a girl he liked. My little boy never brought home any girls in his life, so I thought he must either be lying or you're someone real special!" She explained while preparing the food.

You didn't know how to respond, but you were touched by her words. And she confirmed that Alastor really has never dated anyone before - not that you thought that he was lying. You were glad, since you were the same, though you wouldn't have minded either way.

"Look, girl..." The woman who was only a little shorter than you stepped next to you again and took the cutting board from you with a sigh, cutting the onion properly. "I think you're a really pretty girl and I am glad my Al has found someone he likes for once; but I just wanna make sure that you're the right one for my boy, you know? That you're serious about him."

You let out a shaky breath. You were embarrassed at your need of help for such a simple task. Now she probably hates you and-

...

But you were serious about Alastor at least. But how could you properly convey this to her?

"I- I'm sorry, I am really not good at this. But, I really like Alastor. I like him... more than I've liked anyone before-"

You weren't sure how else to put it and stopped yourself - trying to word it differently, but the woman interrupted you with a sudden and short hug.

"That's all I wanted to hear, honey." She smiled warmly at you as she pulled away again.

She took the cutting board with her to put the freshly cut onions inside the rice. "This is Al's favorite meal by the way! If you want to, I can teach you the recipe some day?"

Your eyes lit up in relief. Her wanting to teach you, probably meant she didn't want to never let you see her or her son again. You nodded enthusiastically and she laughed.

Later during the meal the three of you had a nice talk. The house was... warm. It looked smaller than you were used to and the furniture looked very different. But this home was warm, while yours seemed cold. You only had a single dinner with the two of them together, but it felt better than any you had with your own family, no matter how expensive the food may have been.

After leaving his mother's home for that day Alastor asked you if you wanted to stay at his house for the night. You agreed.

When you arrived at his house again you let out a quiet yawn and started taking off your coat. Again, Alastor took it from you to hang it on the wardrobe. Then he gestured for you to sit on a nearby chair.

Confused you wordlessly obliged at which he grinned. He then kneeled in front of you to take off your shoes for you.

You rolled your eyes at him with a chuckle, "Really? You don't have to do that now."

He gave you a wryly amused smile, "I know. I just want to spoil the woman I adore so much."

You let out an embarrassed huff as your face started reddening.

Alastor, perceptive as he is, noticed this of course and made it worse by taking your hand and planting a small kiss on its back.

When he got up again he extended his hand towards you to take and led you to sit on the couch with him.

"See? I told you my mother would like you. She has a knack for seeing who people really are..." Alastor grinned.

"Really?" You asked him.

You liked both of them. But if that was true wouldn't she see that her son is a killer? And that you liked it?

"My mother always said 'what you do for the people you love is more important than what the world wants you to do'." He quoted with a smirk like he read your mind.

Well, if you twisted these words a little the way he saw things could make sense.

You wondered; was the man he killed for you the first person he's killed? You weren't so sure. His movements seemed way too natural. Too calculated.

His behavior afterwards way too uncaring.

...The evil serial killer of Louisiana. His profile fitted Alastor's way too perfectly.

So far he has had four victims. You researched them for a bit. All of them were filthy, power-hungry and abusive men and one woman. The police suspected a vigilante.

Of course you weren't completely sure it was him. But Alastor's certainty that the killer would not go after you was still ringing in your head.

So what would someone who can actually see inside your soul actually think of you?

You didn't think of yourself as a normal person before this, but not as a bad one either. But now...

It wasn't the fact that you didn't care if he was a serial-killer or not that made you bad, it was more than that. It was that some fucked-up part inside of you liked it.

You wanted the man who was sitting next to you right now in every way possible.

You definitely were at least just as bad. It was probably just more in a passive and masochistic way, than his direct and sadistic one.

So, did you really want to settle for this?

...yes definitely.

You didn't care about that man dying that night.

And now you weren't even sure anymore if that's what you've always thought in the first place, or if this is just what you forced yourself to think, so you could get over it.

Regardless, you just felt cold towards that man. He was better of dead, just like all the other people Alastor probably killed.

Distancing yourself from other people's humanity was wrong and narcissistic. You knew that but still decided to go that path.

Decided to be with Alastor. And enjoy it.

"So? You're going to meet with my father tomorrow, right? Are you at least a little nervous?" You asked him after a small comfortable silence between the two of you.

"Hmm... I think nervous is the wrong word. But it would be bothersome, if your father dislikes me." Alastor answered.

"Even if my father doesn't approve of you, I'll still stick with you. You know that, right?" You asked him.

He raised his brow, giving you a half-grin, surprised by your earnesty. "You're such a sweetheart, you know that?" He asked, locking your head between his hands and lowering his face to yours until you were separated only by a few inches.

Your confidence immediately falters and you became putty in his hands again.

He chuckled against your face, seemingly enjoying the effect he had on you. "Y/N, can I ask you something?"

"...Of course."

"How much do you like me?" He whispered against your lips. Not only because he was sure he wanted to take this a step further with you now, but also because he wanted to be able to predict how exactly you'd answer if he'd ask you to be his forever.

Your breath hitched. You weren't sure how to answer.

If you were honest you would have to admit, that you were completely and utterly obsessed with him.

...You already met his mother today; he said he adores you...

It's okay to admit, that you like him, right?

God, how was he the one in control always? And why did you love it?

"I like you, Alastor. A lot." You whispered back. He smiled at that and finally kissed you.

You leaned back into the couch, just letting him kiss you. The kiss was nice. Every kiss with him was. And for the first time he deepened the kiss as it became more sensual.

You gasped into the kiss and he grinned, his tongue sliding over your own and you shuddered as he pulled you towards him to sit on his lap.

Just to catch air the two of you parted for a second, looking into each other's eyes. Both of you could see the desire for the other in them.

Alastor tenderly stroked your hair with one of his hands and cupped your cheek with the other.

You calmly closed your eyes, eventhough your heart was beating like crazy.

"I love you."

Your eyes opened and widened in surprise at his words. He, too, looked a little surprised by his own words when he looked up at you.

He wasn't surprised because he said it. He was surprised because he meant it.

Your gaze softened and you gave him a smile. The most loving smile you ever gave someone in your life probably.

"I love you too, Alastor."

He let out a small sigh in relief. Something he didn't do often.

So you really loved him? Did you mean that?

"I will kill for you, you know?"

He wasn't sure if he would make things bad between you two, if he outright said that, but he had the feeling he wouldn't. You were too perfect for him.

You paused for a second. Then you gave him a weird smile. "I know. And I would do the same."

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Thank youuu for reading!

@cryptidghostgirl @adeadreader