#female!phantom you are so dear to me

[rucow]

ok here's my interpretation of the phantom, specifically female phantom bc im a lesbian and i crave more women characters in fiction who have actual depth and are a bit unhinged :'D

(please keep in mind that i haven't read the book yet and that my way of seeing her is based mostly on my own imagination and also me projecting very hard on her😭)

putting this under a read more bc its Long long

first, here is my art of fem!phantom ! and one more art of her

to begin, i headcanon the phantom to be named erica with a c, like the flower that grows in harsh conditions and that's very enduring and requires little water to thrive. i think it suits her! please look up "erica flower" and see for yourself :)

i think 35 is a good age for her, the same age as how long the broadway poto has been running for before closing :')

let's talk about her early life. she was born to a loving mother somewhere in eastern europe (modern day romania perhaps 👉👈), and her appearance was indeed unique but not disfigured. she was born with a birth mark of sorts that affected half of her face and her hair as well, causing strands of her black hair to lack pigment and appear as white (im thinking maybe vitiligo? idk exactly but the point is she looked Unique). she has grey eyes. besides that, as an infant she had a very quiet and calm personality as well, not really crying loudly like most babies do and often staring deeply at people, appearing "creepy" to them. (hint: she was just autistic)

erica's mother loved her. she thought these traits made her special and beautiful, not strange or unsettling. her mother would sing to little erica every day and night, but thats something erica doesn't remember, because her mother died far too soon (i like to keep the cause of death vague) and so little infant erica ended up in an orphanage.

now, the caretakers in the orphanage saw these unique traits of hers differently than her mother did. where erica's mother saw beauty and something special, these people saw Evil and Wrong. they thought they could pray away erica's "affliction" and "cure" her, both her appearance and her quiet reserved odd personality.

she was only about one year old when one of the orphanage caretakers tried a new way of "curing" erica via pouring acid on her little face. the acid dripped onto her neck as well. erica doesn't know this is what caused her scarring. as far as she knows, she has always looked the way she does. she thinks she was born this way, that she was doomed in some way, and sadly she will never know the truth: that this was Done to her

erica spent her first years of life in bandages and healing. even after she had healed, the orphanage caretakers kept her bandages on because they didn't like to See her. they didn't want to acknowledge what they'd done, so they kept her hidden and covered up and pretended her skin would be fine under the bandages.

(this is based on the 2004 film) the travelling fair. members would occasionally visit orphanages and other institutions while pretending to be interested in adopting, when in reality they were interested only in finding children they could exploit. when they saw little erica, who was still only a few years old, they knew they could make money off of her. the orphanage's caretakers were most relieved to be rid of her.

and then we all know what happened, and how a young madame giry took young erica and brought her to the opera and kept her safe and hidden. but erica was deeply traumatised and acted purely on instinct, she was completely nonverbal and nonresponsive. to this day, erica and madame giry still don't speak; their agreements are speechless and they both prefer it that way. erica is very uncomfortable acknowledging her past, so she secretly appreciates madame giry for not prying despite the fact that she witnessed little erica Murdering a whole grown man (again, she acted purely on instinct, she was protecting herself)

the opera was all she's ever known, and she has watched singers and managers and dancers come and go, while she remained. art and drama are all she's ever known. she's never felt the breeze in her hair or the sun on her face. she has access to the opera's roof, but she only goes there at nighttime when she can't be seen, and only on extremely rare occasions. art is her only escape and her only outlet. she doesn't just create music, she also paints, and she can sculpt if she has the materials for it. she creates any and all art

erica is incredibly smart as well, and has a vast knowledge on many topics despite lacking any form of education. she learned to read by watching the operas, because sometimes there would be signs and written words on the props. she paid close attention to any and all information she could get, and there were a lot of old things stored down there beneath the opera house that helped her learn and discover new things. but even so, her knowledge of the real world is incredibly limited. she has no idea what the sea sounds like, or what mountain air smells like

having so little to do, she focused her attention on the operas and on studying them, seeing what could be improved and thinking of how to make them come to life. she found most of the singers and dancers lacking, she felt no one really understood the passion required to make a performance feel alive. but that is probably because the performances were just a job to most of those people, while for erica it was her entire lifestyle. at the end of the day, the performers and managers and whatnot would go home to their families and see to their lives, while erica can never leave the opera house. she's fixated on every aspect of it, from the music to the choreography to the management... she constantly sees things that could be improved, and that leads me to my next point.

she started disguising as the phantom in order to help bring her vision to life, by communicating what she wants changed in the operas. of course, her social skills are lacking, so she puts on an act when interacting with anyone, and she doesn't let herself be seen. acting is the only way she knows how to approach another human, so adopting the role of a phantom wasn't hard for her. its easier to be the villain than to be herself. she is, in both literal and autistic terms, masking. she also sees how women are treated, and how they're not taken as seriously as men, so she dresses herself as a man and uses her naturally deeper and lower voice to seem as one. she's also very tall, which really helps on the rare occasion that she's spotted, though it's usually only her shadow that gets seen

now, christine. erica pretending to be christine's father/angel. again, she did this because its easier for her to play a role than to be herself. she knows that no one would accept her for her true self. she doesn't even really know herself, she's never had the chance to discover herself.. what she's like when she's laughing with friends, or how she acts when caring for a pet or child.. she doesn't know herself at all, all she knows is her work, her passion, her escape: music, art, acting. dreaming.

at first, erica did use christine as a way of making her dreams come to life. she can't perform herself, both because of her appearance and because her voice doesn't allow her to sing as a soprano. so she sees christine, alone and aimless, and begins refining her talent. erica never realises how intensely she feels for christine until raoul comes into play. she's possessive, not really in a romantic sense, but because christine is all she has. christine is the only person who willingly meets with her and listens to her, even though she doesn't know her true identity

seeing christine face to face and in the flesh is what really awoke feelings in erica though, and what made her want to have christine to herself, though she doesn't know how to go about it other than pretending to be something that christine can find trustworthy and desirable (again, the whole masquerading as an angel thing). but erica tries, she tries to drop the façade and be herself. she tries to ask christine to trust and accept her, but you can imagine how difficult and terrifying it must be to be that vulnerable with someone for the first time in your life.

when the unmasking happens, erica basically goes into full panic mode, and can't regain her composure. she doesn't know that christine's intention wasn't bad, but she's truly deeply traumatised and acted on instinct once again, which caused her to lash out at christine as a form of defense. she was really really scared in that moment, and once she became rational again she felt immensely guilty for lashing out at christine and for frightening her :')

she pretty much hates raoul. because he's what she can't be: a safe presence for christine, someone she can feel protected by, someone who can OFFER her a life of freedom and warmth. someone who can be seen in public with her, someone who wont ruin her reputation. erica has nothing to offer but her creations, her music, her hidden passions. she hates raoul because she can't be him. because she can't compete with him. she feels this way about most men, its just that raoul just so happens to be the man that christine is closest to

the murder of buquet. erica had always despised him, for obvious reasons. he reminded her of the men at the travelling fair, with the way he would describe her just for shock factor, and she didn't know how to process that. he was always watching the dancers too closely. his death was a perfect way of showing that she should be taken seriously and that her demands should be met. his death also meant the death of any memory of her past. also, he saw her. she couldn't let him live anyway

the masquerade! don juan triumphant was basically erica's vent art/music (she needs healthier coping mechanisms /lh). erica declaring herself christine's teacher in front of all to see...a cruel act which served to humiliate christine and force her into being associated with her. with the phantom. a complete parallel to christine and raoul's secret engagement........

erica's SINGING. it's just as unique as the rest of her, each word she sings is filled with emotion and passion and meaning. she sings low, and her voice can be soft and forcefully powerful in the same breath. she sounds unearthly, especially since she has no training herself yet she knows how to express herself through song. if only she knew how lovely she sounds,,,,,

performing the point of no return with christine on stage was the highlight of erica's life. she had abandoned all fear and showed herself in public, in front of all to see, JUST to be with christine and to show christine her heart. yes, she knocked piangi out (she didnt quite kill him, because shes Not a mindless murderer) to steal his role, and she doesn't regret it. singing with christine is erica's favourite activity and she wants the whole world to see how well they complement each other. madame giry nearly had a heart attack when she saw erica on stage

erica didn't see it as herself kidnapping christine. in her mind she Had to do this, because it was the only way to make christine understand her and force her to SEE how she feels for her..... and she never intended on killing raoul. would she take her frustrations out on him and brawl with him and choke him and whatnot? yes. would she kill him? no. she can't do that to christine. but it Did feel good to fight him. fighting for her life is all she's known after all

erica was so desperate to show christine her heart that she was willing to say and do anything, and her making christine choose between raoul and herself was her last desperate attempt. though inside she knew christine can't choose and that it isn't fair to force her to do it. when christine kissed her, and comforted her, and told her shes not alone, it was like the heaviest stone was lifted from erica's heart. she snapped out of her desperation and let christine go, because she truly wants to see her happy and safe, even if with someone else. erica had always known she doesn't stand a chance, she knew she can't win christine over, but she dreamt of it anyway. and if she spent less time trying to manipulate christine, she would've seen that christine was always willing to know her and to be with her

also, for any astrology nerds out there: i hc the phantom to be a pisces (with a scorpio moon and capricorn rising) :') basically i made her be an emotional wreck who gets Very obsessive about her passions. art flows through her

that is all :) im sane about her (not true)

#txt #this is very much nonsensical i kinda fell asleep midway through writing this IM SRY #female!phantom you are so dear to me #lesbian poto #poto #i could write more but im. trying to remain sane😭 #anyway i know my interpreation of the phantom is pretty different from canon but yea i like my women pathetic and sad #interpretation* #oh my god this is over 2k words im INSANE

[astarionslittletreat]

Sunrise

Astarion x female reader/Tav

Rating: Explicit

You must be 18 years or older to interact with this post in any way

Word Count: 5.7k

Tags: smut, slight end game spoilers, Astarion good ending spoilers, mentions of past abuse/abuser, sex, piv sex, oral sex, cuteness, fangs, biting, over-stimulation, bleeding, blood, blood drinking

Summary: Astarion and the reader share an intimate morning together as they contemplate their past, present, and future together.

Read on AO3

It's the early hours of dawn, just before sunrise. The sky was deep purple just an hour ago, but now it’s transforming into shades of indigo and blue. A faint glow threatens to spill over the city walls, to wash away the final vestiges of night. It's been a while since you've greeted the sun like this, not that you never see her at all anymore. After all, if something needs done during the daylight, you take care of it without issue. But that's all business. Just fleeting glances as you move through the crowded streets of Baldur's Gate. This right now, during the quiet hours of dawn, this is pleasure. This is you waking, nude, on the forest floor after your first night with Astarion. This is the sun’s rays warming your bodies before the two of you sneak back into camp. This is Astarion’s eyes glinting in the light, like that shared goblet of Arabella Dry at the Tiefling party.

Your heart yearns for the sun like you yearn for the past. You see your small smile reflected in the window as you continue to watch the sky change. A dozen-dozen heartbeats pass, and then the soft golden honey of the morning sun caresses the rooftops of the city, before spilling down onto the streets below. The heartache in your chest fades to nothing as the sun fully crests the horizon to kiss your face, a mere phantom in comparison to what you have now. The moment is over for you. You’ve had your fill and you begin to feel the fingers of sleep coaxing you to rest.

“Do you miss it, darling?" Astarion calls out to you from your bed, well out of view from the sun. "The daylight that is.”

Untying your silk robe, you let the soft fabric slip from your shoulders to pool at your feet. Both the sun and your lover lovingly gaze at your sun dappled curves. "It's strange," you muse, holding your hand up as if to catch the morning light. "I have so many memories of you in the sun, but no. You're the only thing I ever miss." You take a few moments, eyes squinting through the brightness to watch the people begin to fill the streets before pulling the heavy curtain firmly close. “And besides–” You turn to your love. He’s artfully draped himself, nude, across the plush pillows that adorn your bed. A deliberate attempt at making himself look all the more enticing. “How could the sun ever hope to compete with my dear Astarion’s beauty?”

He beams at your compliment, practically preening at the attention. Reaching out, he proffers his hand for you to take. It fits neatly in his as you let him pull you, gently leading you back to bed, back to him. It's a gallant gesture as your eyes readjust to the darkness of the room. A yawn begins to creep its way up and you only just manage to stifle it as Astarion draws your back to his chest. His pale, strong arms wrap around you as he presses you close, holding you tight. There weren't any cuddles the first night, or in the weeks that followed as you let him feed on you, but back then there wasn't anything real between you at all. Just lies and illusions and unending uncertainty. But somehow, by some miraculous blessing, you were able to earn his trust, just as he earned yours.

“Now you know that’s not what I meant, darling.” He leans down and presses a kiss to your cheek. “Though, please continue to remind me of how beautiful I am. Your words almost make up for how useless mirrors are to me.” You hear the smirk in his tone alongside the underlying truth. Uncertainty. As much as Astarion tries to hide his past pain, to pretend he’s fine and not hurting, you know the scars will never truly leave. Even after death, Cazador still manages to find a way to torture Astarion, and it drives you fucking insane with rage. It takes you a moment to collect your feelings. There’s no room for this in the bedchamber, or in your heart. Anger and sorrow will do nothing but more harm and that’s the last thing you wish to bestow upon Astarion. All he wants–all he needs is an answer to the question he left unasked. It's not difficult for you to understand. He wants to make sure you don’t regret your decision to stay with him–worried that he’s not enough. He’s worried if this is what you truly want. That he’s not trapped you, or worse, that you’re staying with him out of some fucked up feeling of guilt or pity. He won’t admit that he’s terrified of hearing your answer even if he knows in his heart what it’ll be. That’s why he doesn’t ask what he really wants to know. That’s why he wears his mask of smiles as he plays with your hair between his dexterous fingers. He’s content to pretend, but there’s no way you can leave him like this. Just floundering inside his heart while he holds you in his arms. For the briefest moment you’re almost tempted to fall asleep like this. Wrapped in Astarion’s embrace, snuggled peacefully in your bed together, but you know that after all this time, a part of Astarion still seeks your assurance.

“I miss it, the sun, the people, our friends–” Astarion freezes, as still as a statue, and suddenly the room feels cold. His muscles jerk in a way that alludes to him not knowing whether or not to pull away or hold you tighter. Reluctant to let you slip away from him, he’s afraid that this will be the last time he has to hold you. Silly elf. “But it’s not in the way you think, my love. It’s purely nostalgia. I was just reminiscing about our early days. When we first met, when we first had sex, traveling together, and unsure which day was going to be our last." Your mind drifts, gravitating to fonder memories. “The first time we made love. Your grave. I–,” The threat of tears begins to rise in your throat so you cut yourself off. Again, there is no sadness in you. Just the overwhelming feeling of love for Astarion. Of feeling like you’ve found the place you both belong. 

"I wouldn’t stop you, darling. I won’t keep you here, all for myself, if that is something you no longer wished for. If you ever–do decide you've had enough of me. Or even if you could no longer stand to spend your waking hours in the cold night. I would understand."

"Astarion!" The incredulity in your tone is a good mockery of Astarion’s own frequent ostentatiousness. He’s gone too far. This line of teasing isn’t any fun and, truthfully, it hurts to imagine leaving after striving so hard to live your life together. After ensuring your love is real, and strong, and brighter than any sunrise you could imagine. You move to chastise him quickly, turning in his arms as best you can to face him. Pressing your palms to his chest, you glower, face set into an angry scowl before you realize. His red eyes are overflowing with sorrow and self-loathing. And all at once, your anger melts into nothing. “My love,” you whisper as you press chaste kisses to the shadows under his eyes, and even though you’re the one being held, you wrap your arms around Astarion’s neck to bring him close. Your bodies move instinctually, the embrace being frequent and familiar as Astarion rests his lips against your neck. You card your fingers through his silky curls. There’s no intention of feeding at the moment, though. It’s just the two of you basking in your gentle love, relaxing into the moment.

“Do you remember, before making it back to Baldur’s Gate together, that godforsaken shadow cursed land we had to traverse?”

“Shit, don’t remind me.” Astarion scoffs, pulling back to look at you. His eyes roll in mirth, fangs flashing from behind his lips. “I know our dear Shadowheart was right at home with all the doom and gloom, and while I too am a fan of darkness and the macabre–I prefer to be the only creature lurking in the night, hunting for their next meal. That entire place was far too crowded for my tastes.” 

“Not to mention Raphael, or the horrors of the Cult of the Absolute,” you trivialize in jest.  

Astarion leans in close. His soft lips brush over the sensitive skin of your neck as he speaks. “Or that vile drow who sought to use me because of what I am.” The venom in his voice is dampened by the reverence in the kiss he places on your neck. “There is only one person I feed on and I have her right–here.”His hand is in your hair, his breath is hot on your neck, and your heart is suddenly choking you, pounding in your throat. His fangs barely scrape your skin and you know that you only have to say the word–.

“Yes,” you breathe. There’s never any pain. Just a light pressure as Astarion’s fangs sink softly into your flesh, and then a swooping sensation as your blood is being pulled to his lips. The familiar feeling of lightheadedness begins to return. It’s nothing light that first night. No, this is controlled, worshipful even as he savors your blood on his lips and tongue. You don’t need to tell him to stop before your fingers go numb and your heart flutters in protest. He’ll stop long before there’s any danger, no matter how much he may tease otherwise. It’s easy to relax and go limp, trusting Astarion fully as he cradles your body reverently.

Far too soon Astarion stops feeding from you. “Delicious,” his moan makes you shiver. Blood begins to slowly trail from your twin puncture wounds, painting your neck crimson. Astarion isn’t one to waste a precious gift that you offer so freely to him, however. He makes quick work of the mess. Devouring it all until it’s just his tongue on your skin, traveling the length of your neck, chasing the way your body shivers. Overwhelmed from the unique mixture of pleasure and pain that makes your head spin and your body hot. Gods, you love this man. He’s so, he’s just so, so–

“W–wait. Astarion, wait,” you weakly plead for his attention, grabbing at his shoulder. You feel him smile before scraping his teeth on your skin, refusing to stop. The devious vampire did this on purpose and he knows he’s been caught red-handed, or well, rather red-lipped as he continues to playfully bite at you. Astarion just hums into the curve of your neck, refusing to acknowledge that he’s been found out. “Hey!” You laugh defeatedly as Astarion kisses the shell of your ear. “Stop trying to distract me!”

Astarion’s lips find your jaw before traveling over your cheekbones. You close your eyes and he places kisses there as well before finding your mouth. Trying his very best to lure you into parting your lips for him. “I rather think you’re the distracting one, my dear.”

“I’m trying to tell you something and I want you to listen, please.” Glaring, you hold his red gaze in yours and his perfect, bloodstained lips fall into a pout that’s just a little too perfect. Another ploy. Your head is still slightly spinning, but through sheer force of will you begin to collect your thoughts. The need to kiss away his frown, however sly it might be, is strong, but he needs to hear what you have to tell him. “As sad and as miserable as that entire place was–if for some reason that’s where you were, where Astarion decided to be, I would also–”

“You mustn't worry about that, darling. I wouldn’t be caught dead, or rather, undead in a place like that ever again.”

“Hush,” You try to quiet him by pressing your fingers to his lips. A poor decision in hindsight as Astarion instantly kisses them. Running his tongue along your fingertips, trying his hardest to distract you once more. “Stop! Listen–just wait a second. I’m trying to be sweet to you.”

“Oh, I know exactly just how sweet you are.” Astarion’s voice drops as he slips into seducing you. “So much so that I rather think I’d like another bite.”

“Yes, yes. I know. Your “little treat”.” Reclaiming your fingers from Astarion’s greedy mouth, you cup his too handsome face. Willing him to listen to you. “The only thing I wish for in life, in death, in whatever time I’m given, is to be with you. Wherever and however I can. I love you and never once have I regretted my love or wished it away.” You’ll tell him of your love every second of every day if that’s what it takes. If that’s what makes him smile like this, dazzling and warmer than anything the sun has ever graced you with. You stretch your head up and kiss him. You kiss him and kiss him and kiss him. You kiss him until the need for air demands your attention and you break free to refill your lungs.

Astarion rests his forehead to yours, curly locks obscuring his hungry gaze underneath, as he catches his breath. Your chests heave in unison, breathing life into the fiery tension blazing between your bodies. One moment you’re both still, wrapped in each other's embrace, and the next the room spins as Astarion wraps a leg around your hip, rolling you until you lay on your back. He’s straddled your hip, pinning you underneath. His eyes are hungry as he looms over you, his disheveled curls haloing him in the dim light. Astarion drags a hand down your collarbone, delicately tracing the veins under your skin before gently cupping your breast. A flick of his wrist has you gasping as he plays with your nipple. You can’t help but thrust your hips up, seeking the attention that Astarion is teasing. He ignores your silent plea, stilling his hand until you follow suit.

“You’re not playing fair.” You halfheartedly complain, willing your body to calm. 

“I never promised that I would, my sweet.” You don’t know what god or goddess you should pray to to thank them for bringing you Astarion, but you’re a devout believer. “Now stay still, or I might bite.” He flashes his fangs at you. It’s not a real threat. He’d never actually bite you without your consent, but the tease still sends shivers down your spine. Coursing through your body until they land, pulsing deeply in your cunt. Astarion leans forward, an illusion of a predator cornering their prey. His soft cock begins to harden as he cups your face in both of his hands. Cradling you as if you’re something breakable, something precious. Astarion swipes his thumb across your cheek as he stares into your eyes–as if it’s the first time he’s seen the sunrise. “I love you.” 

Astarion pounces, taking you down with a devastatingly deep kiss. If kisses were ambrosia you’d have been drunk ages ago. And still you want more. You need more of him. His heart, his touch, gods above, you need his cock that’s pressed between your thigh and his abdomen, but Astarion refuses to stop kissing you or to move into a more accessible position. He slides his tongue into your mouth, licking you open until you writhe and squirm with a need that burns so hot it overpowers your senses. But even still, Astarion doesn’t relent. He presses on, moving from your mouth back down to your throat where he begins to suck bruises to your sensitive skin. Out of pure desperation, you grasp at his back until your fingers graze his scars before moving to grip his shoulders. You clutch him to you just as passionately as he kisses you. It takes everything inside of you not to bust and fade away into the Weave as Astarion uses his weight to keep you pinned to the bed. His lips move from your throat and for one solitary second you think he might give you what you need, but no. Instead, he works his way along your jaw, tracing you with his mouth until he finds the place under your ear that drives you wild.

“Fuck–please! Astarion—” His cock, hard and weeping now, rests on your stomach. Pressed between your bodies as Astarion rolls his hips. Clenching, you feel your arousal dripping out to stain the sheets below. You’re wet, so unbearably wet and empty and aching for him to fill you. You’re pleading and your moans do nothing to sway the elf, though you know the bastard hears you. His pointed ears twitch as you cry out for him, but he continues to hold you down. Unwilling to pull back even an inch to separate himself from you. You manage to angle your arm just enough to get a solid handful of his hair, and begin to pull. Slowly but firmly enough that his head raises just enough to make eye contact, and as you do, you feel his cock throb with need. He likes this.

“Oh fu–ck!” Astarion’s shameless cry comes out sticky sweet from his throat, Adam’s apple quivering prominently. He sounds drunk. He looks it too. The expression on his face is close to ecstasy before you accidentally lose your hold on his hair. Too turned on and thoroughly debauched to be able to concentrate on keeping your grip. Not when he shifts his hips to create a delicious friction between your slick pussy and his engorged cock. You chase the feeling, grinding against him as best you can, but to no avail. You’re still pinned beneath him. Hips and thighs locked. Both you and Astarion are reduced to base instincts as his rigid cock slides over your clit once more before contact is lost. This isn’t fucking working. You’re only briefly aware of the pillows being pushed to the floor, shoved away by Astarion to make better room for your head, before his hand reaches down. He shifts and forces your leg over his hip. He’s a man consumed by desire. His need for you.

Astarion hovers over you, his crimson eyes piercing you through your heart as you reach for him, aiming to pull him back down for another taste of his ambrosia lips. Instead he captures your hand in his and pulls it to his bloodstained mouth. He sweeps gentle kisses over your knuckles before intertwining his fingers with yours and pins it to the mattress. His other hand finds your thigh, grasping tightly before guiding your knee to your chest. Opening and exposing your pussy for him to slide his cock against your entrance. “That’s it darling,” he encourages you. Praising you as he slides against you, slowly dragging his cock along your wet slit. The head of his cock catches, and without hesitation, Astarion presses in. It’s blissful and devastating as Astarion finally fucking fills you. Sliding in on one long stroke to fully seat you on his cock. He doesn’t pull out, just gently grinds against you. His smooth skin and throbbing cock caressing you until your breath leaves. Whisked away by your lover, leaving you with blurry vision and a spinning room. “Now, now. We can’t have that.” Astarion rolls his hips, wonderfully grinding against your folds and bringing friction that your clit so desperately desires. The sensation makes you gasp, forcing you to gulp down air, reminding you that you’re here–now. Very much alive and not in heaven, no matter how much it feels like you are.

“Astarion–”

You’re not sure if he’s listening. Flaming eyes and a silent snarl are all that he gives you besides a deep guttural moan as he continues to fuck you. It’s slow and brutal and entirely different from any performance he puts on. This isn’t Astarion trying to pretend to be anything other than the vampire–the man that he is. Desperate and extraordinarily dangerous as he claims you for himself. Your orgasm taunts you. Haunting you from the edges, and you want it so fucking bad, but you also couldn’t care any less. It’s now, it’s this moment, it’s Astarion who holds your attention in his iron grasp. Ruining you with his love. You hear the wet sounds of your pussy as he fucks into you. Pushing more of your arousal out of your cunt with his cock. He lets go of your hand and leans in close, snaking his arm under the small of your back. Using his vampiric strength, Astarion pulls on you, just enough that your hips shift to a new glorious angle. One that has him hitting a spot that makes you go feral underneath him as his pelvis grinds against your clit on every stroke. He keeps his other hand firmly under your knee, pushing your leg into a position that stretches your hips. It all feels so fucking good. 

Astarion’s taut, muscular body moves over you. He’s graceful even now as he holds you, fucking you rhythmically. You clench around him, wordlessly asking him for more, and he raises his head. Fangs snapping in the air, muscles tensing in his neck as Astarion tries hopelessly to hold on to his senses. A half-baked idea forms in your dazed brain. You don’t stop to think it through, you can’t. You just act, throwing your arm around Astarion’s neck, pulling him close until you have him right where you want him. You sink your blunt teeth into the side of his neck. Your vampiric imitation pales in comparison to the true thing. Only biting hard enough to bruise his delicate moonlight skin. The moment you bite down on Astarion’s neck, you feel his cock throbbing inside of you. His breath hitches in your ear as you press your tongue against his skin and a soft moan escapes his lips. 

“Fuck–” he growls through gritted fangs. Dropping your leg, Astarion moves his hands to the curve of your hips. Holding on tight, and pinning you down as you continue your mock feeding. “Fancy yourself a vampire now, darling?” You bite down harder in agreement and Astarion melts in your arms. Moaning as you claim him as yours in return. “I think not,” he protests, and for a second you think it’s an empty threat. It feels like he’s close, like he’s struggling to keep from falling over the edge. That is until he starts to move again, fucking your pussy like a goddamn promise. “I’m the only blood sucker you’ll find in this bed, darling, and I’m going to eat you right up.” Before you know what’s happened, Astarion has hold of both your legs, knees propped over his strong shoulders. He circles your aching clit with his thumb as he savagely fucks you. Tits bouncing from the force, sliding you up the bed on every thrust. You feel the spit that streaks your lips as you gasp out for him. It’s too intense–too much all at once. You try to hold on, to stop your orgasm from slamming into. Astarion gives you a  saccharine smile. "You sound so adorable when you're trying not to come."

You beg. 

You curse. 

You come.

Gushing on his cock, your body is electrified, and you fall. Blood rushes in your ears so loudly you can’t hear anything. Your senses thrust you into a burning pit of pleasure as Astarion forces you down further. Spiraling until you find yourself caught, supported in Astarion’s arms. An uncomfortable wetness coats your legs and part or Astarion’s stomach but you can’t find the motivation to care because somehow, he’s still moving. He's held on long enough to fuck you through you orgasm. Giving your pussy long, even strokes as he chases his high. His ethereal face is close and so you take him with your lips. Kissing him, licking his fangs, until you feel his cock pulsing, overfilling you until his spend leaks out from around his cock. Adding to the mess.You feel like you’re floating. Exhausted, yes, but happy and ready to sleep. The mess will keep till nightfall when it’s time to wake, but Astarion shows no sign of slowing.

“No, my love. You're doing so well for me, but I’m not done with you yet.” Grabbing a pillow from the floor, Astarion cups your head, lifting it for you to place the cushion underneath before tenderly laying you back down. He slides down your body, lavishing you with attention. Forcing you to stay in the present with him by kissing your dips and curves. Any place he finds on your body he marks it for himself. Kneeling between your legs he softly coaxes you open. His spent cock rests half hard but bobs in excitement as he spreads the lips of your soaked pussy, licking his lips like he's being presented with a feast in his honor. The air from the room feels cold and uncomfortable on your wet entrance, covered in the sticky slick remnants of your lovemaking. It makes you clench involuntarily and more of Astarion leaks out of you. Astarion looks ruined at the sight of you. His perfect features contort into agonized lust before he leans in.

“Wait! No I’m too–” He doesn’t listen. Astarion leans down and wraps his lips around your mound. You can’t help the way your body jerks at the first swipe of his tongue on your oversensitive pussy. He’s cleaning the mess he's made of you. His sharp fangs are hot pinpricks on your skin that further blur the line of pleasure and pain you’re walking down. Another swipe of Astarion’s tongue has you twisting, kicking your legs to pull away. You move higher up on the bed, willing space for your body to recover. “Please, I need a minute. ”

Astarion reaches up, catches your ankle in his firm grasp, and pulls. His strength makes it look easy as he drags you, clutching at the traitorous bed sheets in desperation, to his parted lips. “I said I’d eat you up darling, and frankly, I’m still absolutely famished.” His voice is gravel but yours is fire as he begins to eat his fill of you. This time you’re unable to pull away. He’s wrapped his arms around your thighs, locking your cunt to his mouth so he can eat you like a piece of fruit that drips down his lips and chin. Saccharine sweet and delicious as Astarion consumes you. Fucking you with his tongue. Licking your nectar coated skin and sucking you between his teeth.

You lack any leverage to fight back, to twist away. Your entire lower half is being held up off the bed by the vampire feasting on your pussy. If you sincerely asked for him to let you go, to set you back down you know he would, but you can’t force yourself to say the words. You don’t want to. You want this. Astarion knows you want this as you gasp, muscles clenching while he sucks your clit between his lips. His breath is hot flames that lick along your scorched nerves. “That’s it, love. You can give me one more, can’t you darling.”

Yes, you think, or maybe you agree out loud because you hear Astarion chuckle before kissing his praise into cunt. For a second you’re confused as he pulls back again, wondering why he’s stopped. But then Astarion adjusts his grip on you, making sure your leg is solidly hooked over his shoulder, before he slides two fingers into your pussy. “Ah! P-please,” you’re not sure what you’re asking for, but Astarion gives it to you all the same. Scissoring his fingers, he strokes your cunt. Gently trying to coax out your pleasure, caressing your insides until you sing. his lips find your folds once more. His devastating accuracy brings you over the edge in moments. You’re left gasping, head spinning as the position Astarion holds you in makes it hard to breathe. It takes him a few moments, his lips busy kissing your pussy, his tongue lapping your mess, before he eases you back down into the ruined silk sheets. His mouth finds yours and you taste yourself on his lips, bitter in comparison to how thoroughly sweet he’s being. 

You feel dazed–and elated. Your body floats somewhere between the heavens and the earth. Entwined together with Astarion who holds you close, refusing to let you go, but you don’t mind. His skin, though warm, is still much cooler than yours. It feels wonderful as your heartbeat begins to slow, your breathing returning to normal. Turning your head just so brings Astarion’s lips back to yours and the easy kisses you share almost bring tears to your eyes. Blinking them away is easy though as Astarion deepens the kiss, parting your lips so gently you don’t realize what’s happening at first. Not until you feel Astarion shifting his hips to slide his engorged cock along your entrance once more. You part easily for him, sending shivers of over-stimulation mixed with desire through every limb. There is no rush this time. Just a few languid strokes that have you gasping into Astarion’s mouth before he stills. Even while kissing you, you can see the smirk on his face as he allows you to adjust to holding him inside. Laying there together, connected in the deepest sense. Warming each other with limbs and lips entangled. “What the hell has gotten into you?” You don’t really expect an answer from Astarion as he seems to be preoccupied with lavishing attention across your collarbone.

“I’ve decided to reclaim the day for myself. It’s what I’m owed,” he sulks, looking up at you through his pretty eyelashes, but you can hear the sincerity behind his words. Yes. Yes, Astarion is owed the day. The sun. That and so much more, but not all of it is within your power to give. But this–this you can do. His ruby eyes sparkle in the candlelight as they dance along your face. Your answering smile stuns him into silence.

*************************

The sun has long since set as you stifle a yawn. Nostalgia returns once more. It’s been ages since the night meant it was time to rest, but the elf who’s at fault for keeping you up all day looks positively happy. So you let your complaints remain silent as you gaze at your lover. A heavy tomb rests in his lap and a gold chalice clutched in his delicate hand is filled with either wine or blood. You can’t tell from your position across the room. Reluctantly, you glance back down to the delicately looping script on the thick parchment in front of you. The letter is from Gale, back in his tower in Waterdeep. You’ve been trying to read it for the last half hour, but Astarion is just, so distracting. Honestly, anything could distract you from Gale going on about his Tressym, but Astarion seems to be especially good at it. That is until your eyes catch a few words that make you excited.

“Astarion.”

“Yes, darling?” He answers, eyes slow to leave the pages of his book.

“How would you feel about visiting with Gale for a bit?”

Astarion doesn’t try to hide the disinterest on his face at all as he turns his attention back to his reading. “No.”

“It’s just that–wait. No?” His answer takes you completely off guard. “What do you mean no?”

He heaves a sigh into his book. “I suppose if he were to come here that would be fine with me, but I’m far too busy this evening to travel all the way down to the Lower City just to visit with Gale.” 

“Busy?” you laugh. “What do you have planned that makes you “too busy” to see a friend?”

“First of all,” he interjects. Head raising until he adopts a pose of self-importance. “‘Friend’ is much too strong of a descriptor for my relationship with that wizard. At most we are merely,” his graceful fingers swirl about until he finds the words he’s searching for, “–former work associates at best.”

“Oh is that so?” you say, smiling up at the hill you know Astarion is about to come down from.

“And besides, what if I get a bit peckish later tonight?” He pouts, coyly looking up at you through his eyelashes. “Neither one of us would like Gale around for that.”

“Well you’re being very greedy tonight, and I can’t say I don’t like it either,” you shoot him a look before unburying the lead. “But Gale isn’t in Baldur’s Gate, love. He’s invited us to his tower in Waterdeep.”

“Why would we travel all the way to Waterdeep just to see Gale fawn over his cat?”

You hold out the thick parchment letter with Gale’s elegant handwriting for him to look over. “Apparently, Gale and Tara have a lead on a cure for your sun sensitivity–” Astarion is out of his seat, book falling heavily to the floor, and by your side in an instant. He snatches the letter from your hand, reading Gale’s words for himself. You put on an air of indifference. “But if you really don’t want to go visit an old ‘work associate’, I understand.”

“Now now now, my love. Let’s not be hasty.” You roll your eyes. “Gale is a dear friend of ours! And I hear that Waterdeep is beautiful this time of year, not as beautiful as I am, of course, but that would be expecting far too much I suppose.” You let Astarion read on, absorbing the message for himself. “Well,” he says as he reaches the end, signed with your friend’s love. “It seems our wizard has been busy. Very busy, if he has a possible solution for you too.”

“I’m not worried about that just yet, but it’s nice to know I might be able to stick around longer than I thought possible.” Astarion caresses your cheek, allowing you space in the same way you provide for him. “I think I’m ready for another adventure though. It’s been a while since anyone’s tried to murder us. What do you think, love?”

He bends down, placing a soft kiss on your lips. “I’m ready to have some fun,” he smiles. Fangs and all.

#astarion #astarion fanfic #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x tav #astarion bg3 #baldur’s gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 astarion #baldurs gate astarion #baldur's gate astarion #baldur’s gate astarion #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate #reader insert #fanfic #astarionslittletreat #astarion ancunin

[willows-escape]

Symbolic - 1990!Erik x Reader - Part 1

Pairing - Erik (1990! Charles Dance) x (Female) Reader

Summary - the topic of the mask was the last obstacle in your blossoming relationship, and you were desperate to cross the barrier and become fully intertwined with the man you loved and claimed he loved you too.

Warnings - erik’s deformity is a mix of the deformity we see erik have as a child in the 1990 version and the musical, phantom having a small breakdown, the ✨mask✨topic, poorly dealt with feelings, miscommunication, suggestive moments and reference to genitalia and arousal, descriptions of a gory facial disfigurement, intense self hatred, mentions of christine but she’s long gone in this

Word Count - 4,770

Notes - there will be a part 2 i gotchu i gotchu. should part 2 be smutty or also just suggestive? also i tried writing this in a victorian-esque tone but if you arent vibing with that let me know and i’ll switch it up for part 2. i just thought it would be a nice touch.

give me feedback !!! pleasee !!!!

01 (you're here!) / 02

The nearby sound of trickling water gracefully blended into the ambiance of your surroundings; the towering trees above you resembled a verdant canopy. The quilt beneath you protected your body from the prickly blades of grass and artificial soil, offering a comfortable spot to recline with your hair spread out beneath you, shimmering in the artificial light.

You laid supine, hands elevated above you to cradle a book you had recently begun reading. The words captivated your attention, submerging you in a realm of fantasy and euphoria. Reading was your preferred means of escaping reality, a release you frequently yearned for when the burdens of the world weighed on your shoulders. It all faded away when you became engrossed in the pages of a book.

Regrettably, you were not the only person who was aware of your coping mechanisms. The situation was quite an affair, so you wouldn’t delve too deeply into the small details, but the love of your life had at long last informed you of his reciprocal affection for you. It felt magical and otherworldly to hear that sweet confession escape his enthralling lips, his eyes penetrating into the depths of your soul as his hands tenderly grasped your waist. You had witnessed the words that you only ever seemed to hear in your dreams.

So what had left you so apprehensive?

Well, the man you spoke so highly about, Erik, did not seem to return those high opinions for you. There was a part of himself he laboured ceaselessly to conceal from you, a mask that symbolically and literally kept up a barrier between your world and his world to prevent them from intertwining. You’d exchanged tender sentiments, cried tears of anguish and passion the night you’d finally confessed. You clung to each other as if your lives depended on it and subjected each other to a night of basking in vulnerability and fragility as your secrets long harboured tumbled past your tongue before you could restrain them. The morning after was no less exquisite and that of a fairy tale romance, but the barrier remained.

That mask he wore, pale and icy to the touch, silently spoke of his distrust for you. The final puzzle piece that he adamantly refused to fit into place, even for the sake of your love. Oh, it was a cruel predicament indeed! All you desired was to behold the appearance of the man you held dear, but he swore by the highest heavens that his visage would send you fleeing, and that was the last outcome he desired. To some extent, you understood his apprehension, having heard him recount tales of how numerous individuals he had cared for and adored had reacted abhorrently upon the unveiling of his face. But how could he expect the two of you to spend the remainder of your lives together without even a glimpse of his unadorned skin?

You weren't expecting Prince Charming, and while you weren't entirely convinced by his claims of him having a face of nightmares, you did trust that he might not be conventionally attractive. After all, you had never seen him. Besides his gentlemanly actions and his physique that seemed as if it had been crafted by a divine being, you weren't going to assume that he was the most handsome man in the world. You would love him nonetheless. But no matter how greatly you persisted and promised him you wouldn’t leave despite what he looked like, he truly did not believe a word you said. And it hurt.

“A new book, dear?”

You glanced upward, granting the subject of your grovelling a tight lipped smile as you hastily flicked your attention back to the words on the page. No anger dwelled within you, just painful disappointment, and the ache in your heart made it hard to bare the sight of him. “Of course. It’s Jane Eyre.”

He hummed in acknowledgment, his walking cane planted firmly into the ground below. You internally winced as the silence rang loud in the air. You were not seeking to upset your lover, but also somehow desiring to communicate that you weren't entirely pleased at the moment. It appeared that the message had travelled clear, but the upset was unavoidable.

A moment more passed before he spoke, “I feel a chill coming on. Seems as though it’s about to rain, don’t you think? Come, let’s retreat inside before it starts to pour.”

You arched a suspicious eyebrow, fingers still tightly clasped around the novel you held. If the plastic animals scattered around that Erik had stolen from the props department said anything, everything in this quaint woodsy area was unquestionably fake. From the dirt to the grass to the trees, the animals and the sky. It went without saying there would be no rainfall. This meant he wanted to discuss things with you without the distraction of your nose being buried within the pages of a book. And you weren’t entirely sure how to feel about it.

“And why should I do that?” you questioned, paying him no eye contact as you pretended to continue to read.

“You wouldn’t want your clothing to get wet, would you? I won’t be visiting the laundry room of the opera house for another week, hence it would be wise to avoid sullying a valuable item of clothing,” he reasoned, knowing fully well that he’d drop whatever he was currently doing to run and fulfil any request you asked of him, never mind visiting the damn laundry room.

You parted your lips, ready to jestingly remark about how there would indeed be no rainfall. Yet, in that very moment, a peculiar sensation graced your senses. A solitary droplet of water descended upon your nose, its touch cold and trailing a path of dampness as it glided down your nasal bridge. A gasp escaped your lips as more droplets descended, their frequency increasing with each passing moment. In a hastened flurry, you stood upright, clasping your cherished book to your bosom. You abandoned the forgotten quilt as you sprinted through the doors adorned with stained glass, leading you back to Erik's modest dwelling. He followed closely, not far behind your hurried steps.

You’d have to speak to him about putting up a gazebo. To block out the sun, you’d tell him.

“Guess you were right,” you half-heartedly chuckled, absentmindedly tossing the book onto a table to the side of you.

You found yourself in Erik’s room of treasures, where he stored and cherished his most esteemed items, namely his collection of masks and his grand piano. The ambiance within was of a tranquil and serene nature, causing your anger to gradually dissipate. Yet, the sorrow and anguish still lingered within you.

"Forgive me, have I down something to displease you?" Erik questioned, his steps measured and deliberate as if he were trying not to startle you, akin to approaching a timid creature. With utmost gentleness, he lightly laid his hand upon your shoulder, allowing it to glide downward, tracing the contour of your arm.

"Erik…" you whispered, tearing your eyes away from him. Your heart faltered, your breath catching in your throat as his fingertips delicately brushed against your skin. A fire simmered in your core, your veins rushing with hot blood as the touch of his hand engulfed you, overwhelming your senses with a fervour. “I… do not wish to upset you.”

“The only upset you cause me is by not being honest with your feelings,” he replied, hand reaching up to gently trace the skin of your cheek. Your eyes felt weak, gently fluttering shut as you indulged yourself in his affections. “Please, tell me what is troubling you.”

You paused for a moment, allowing yourself to succumb to his touch for a little while longer. The words settled on the tip of your tongue, ready to escape you and take a leap of faith from your mouth to his waiting ears, but you’d already approached this subject with him before and did not wish to push him to frustration or sorrow.

“I just…” you paused, “One day, Erik, do you wish for us to be husband and wife?”

His eyes widened, mouth agape in shock at your blunt statement. He stammered in surprise, removing his hand from your cheek slowly. He drew in a deep breath before answering, “There is nothing I desire more than to be wedded to you. Where is this coming from? Are you feeling as though our relationship is moving too slow? I just didn’t want to frighten you by pushing for more. Why, I’ll marry you tomorrow-”

“Erik, Erik,” you laughed, hand coming up to cup his cheek with your own hand as he was doing to you seconds ago, “I didn’t mean it like that, though I’ll marry you the second you ask it of me. Maybe not tomorrow, however.”

“Ah,” his nerves tingled, goosebumps rising on his skin at the electricity of your touch. He cleared his throat before continuing, “While that is a great relief to me, may I ask as to why you asked that, if not for the reason I previously thought?”

Taking one last final pause, you readied yourself to confess your true want. “I know you’ve said no, and told me to not bring up the subject again… but my love, how can I marry somebody when I have yet to see their face?”

Erik pursed his lips, his eyes shifting down as he began fiddling with the cuffs of his sleeves. You felt dreadful witnessing the unease that the inquiry evoked in him, understanding that it inevitably resurrected distressing memories he longed to forget. Nevertheless, no advancement could transpire between the two of you in your relationship until he allowed you to see his face. You refused to be bound to someone who concealed such an essential aspect of himself, even if you knew the intentions to be entirely pure.

“I can’t do that,” Erik shook his head, walking away from you and moving towards his basket of walking canes. He placed his current one back with the bunch, before busying himself with rearranging his mask collection. He didn’t want to stray too far from you, but also wanted you to drop the subject.

You quietly tip toed behind him, enveloping him in your arms as you wrapped them around his waist and placed your head on his broad shoulder. You audibly heard his breathing pause, feeling him shiver as he relished in your touch. But nevertheless, he pushed on with rearranging his collection, although he wasn’t moving side to side around the table as he was doing previously.

“But why?” you asked.

“You know why, my face is that of nightmares. And I’ve hurt too many by showing them what they believed they could handle. My expectations are realistic.”

“You could never hurt me!” You insisted, your emotions getting the best of you as you retreated from him. He hunched over slightly, hands resting upon the clear spot of table in front of him to steady himself. His head twitched to the side as he bit his bottom lip in thought.

“Dear, I know you think that I exaggerate when I speak of my face, but I can assure you that I do not lie out of simple insecurity. My own father hid me down here due to my appearance, that must speak volumes,” he sighed, coming up once again to stand straight. “Now please, do not ask again.”

“So when I inevitably return to wallowing in my own feelings and escaping to the woods for hours at a time again, will you tell me to not ask again when you approach the subject of my feelings once more?” you tried to reason, desperately wanting him to view the situation from your point of view.

He didn’t respond for a little while, evidently pondering your words that he knew deep down held some veracity. The matter of the mask was evidently causing you distress, and he couldn't fathom any solution that would alleviate your concerns. But alas, he simply couldn't bring himself to do so.

“I’m sorry, my answer’s no.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, shimmering with unspoken pain and longing. Your vision blurred as a single tear cascaded down your cheek, tracing a path of sorrow. Your body trembled with silent sobs, your shoulders shook as you struggled to hold back the flood of emotions that threatened to consume you. The ache in your heart grew stronger, as if each tear shed was a testament to the love and vulnerability you had offered, only to be met with rejection.

“My dear, please, don’t cry over me,” his arms swiftly enfolded you in an embrace, his own frame quivering with an inability to endure the sight of your tears. With a resolute tenderness, he pressed his chilled lips upon your forehead, bestowing a gentle kiss as he cradled your head against his chest. In a steady rhythm, he swayed, seeking to soothe your anguish and stifle the heart breaking sounds that escaped your lips.

“How can I not?” you wept, fingers shaking from how firmly you were clinging onto his white button up shirt. You were grabbing on to him so tight you feared your nails would pierce holes in the delicate fabric, but you couldn’t bring yourself to relinquish your grip no matter how much you internally fought with yourself. Nothing you were doing seemed to be venting your frustrations adequately, leaving you at a loss for how to cope. "My love, the very essence of my existence, the one who breathes life into me, steadfastly refuses to show me his face."

“You must understand- I feel for you exactly as you describe your feelings for me, if not tenfold. That’s why I can’t show you. I’m protecting you just as much I want to protect myself,” he confessed, eyes squeezing shut as his swaying slowed to a stop. His grip was becoming tighter and tighter.

“I know life has dealt you an unfair hand, Erik, I’ve heard your cries and witnessed your heartbreak. I was there for you all throughout Christine, I was there to see your regret and misery as she left you behind. I did not leave your side for a second. I know the great despair and trauma her reaction to your face cast upon you, but please believe not a hair on my head resembles Christine. I will not hurt you the same.”

Erik held you a little longer, his embrace becoming even more so impossibly tighter. He wasn’t urgent to reply, instead allowing himself to bask in your love for as long as he could manage. Your sweet love was an addiction, an ambrosia he craved every single waking hour. But even then you lived in his dreams, your angelic presence blessing him wherever he went or whatever state he was in.

“I love you, Erik,” you spoke, looking upwards towards him as he began to tilt his head to share your unwavering gaze.

“I love you too,” he said.

“So show me,” you whispered, eyes glistening with tears and lips downturned into a subtle frown.

You took one last look into his eyes, before pushing yourself forward and up. Your lips met in a fervent union, a culmination of the deepest desires and longings that had long been brewing between you both. It was a kiss imbued with a delicate tenderness and an irresistible urgency, your mouths moving in perfect harmony. Each brush of his lips sent electric waves coursing through your body, igniting a blazing fire within your soul. In that timeless moment, you and him surrendered yourselves completely, losing all sense of time and space. It was a kiss that spoke volumes, a silent pledge of profound love and unwavering devotion.

As you reluctantly broke the intimate connection, succumbing to the need for a breath of air, your gaze met his half-lidded eyes. His lips were swollen, and his tongue darted out to moisten his bottom lip as he inhaled deeply. A blush crept across your cheeks as you attempted to conceal the rapid beating of your heart, finally becoming aware of his hands that had gradually ventured downward, tenderly tracing the curves of your waist.

He silently took a moment to recover, savouring the lingering taste of your kiss. It was unlike any other you had shared before - no longer innocent and brief, but a passionate embrace that ignited a fire within you. As your lips met, it felt as if the world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you in a moment of pure bliss. The intensity of your connection was palpable, like a match being scraped against a stone, creating small sparks that danced and flickered between your bodies. It was a kiss that left you both breathless, your hearts racing with newfound desire and a longing for more.

“If you really insist on seeing my face, come with me to your room. I do not wish to make you feel cornered, but if you are to faint I wish for you to not bring yourself harm.”

You nodded eagerly, your heart pounding with a mix of excitement and anticipation. The kiss you shared made every colour appear more vibrant and the air feel lighter, filling every fibre of your being with pure bliss. As you followed him, each step felt buoyant, as if you were walking on air.

It didn’t take long for you to reach your room. Erik was very against you two sharing a bedroom, stating that he did not wish to make you uncomfortable or feel trapped next to him, when the reality couldn’t be farther from that. But you feared that he might’ve just been projecting, that he was the one who felt uncomfortable and trapped with the idea of you two sharing a room, so you’d left the topic alone for another day. That day still hasn’t arrived.

Erik took a hold of your hand, gently pulling you in and shutting the door behind you. He shook slightly, so lightly that you almost thought your eyes were deceiving you. “Are you sure about this, y/n?”

“More sure than I’ve ever been about anything, besides how much I love you,” you giggled.

“I… will not keep you down here, if you decide you never want to see me again. I’ve learnt my lessons, do not fear you reaching the same fate Christine did when she reacted negatively.”

You wanted to protest his words, state that you feeling negatively towards him was inconceivable and never going to happen. You also wanted to tell him to stop mentioning Christine, just the utterance of her name made you scowl. But you didn’t want to argue at a time like this, so you just nodded your head.

“Before I take this awful thing off… that kiss was everything I’ve ever wanted and more. If after this you no longer love me, please know that your display of love made me feel like a normal, living man, and that I’m doing this because I know I can die happy after the fact, if you were to leave.”

“I’m honoured to be able to make you feel that way, my love.”

He hesitantly extended his hand towards the strings that secured his mask to his head, skillfully undoing the knot he had carefully tied. As he prepared to remove the mask, he couldn't help but steal a final wistful glance at you, savoring the moment before gradually peeling it away from his skin, gripping the edges tightly with his other hand. The air seemed to hold its breath as the mask revealed the vulnerable visage beneath, unveiling a hidden side that had long been concealed.

His face was a grotesque sight, something that defied accurate description. The skin was cruelly stripped away, revealing the raw and twisted muscles beneath. It was a horrifying visage, and it made your heart ache. He was deformed, disfigured; the only parts of his face that were covered in flesh were swollen and bright red, contrasting the pale whiteness of his bone. You tried your best to swallow the gasp that was pushing past your throat, but you were human.

You were sure you could hear the sound of his heart shattering, but you were so shocked you could only watch as he crumbled to his knees before you. His screams and cries made you nauseous, his repeated wails of, ‘why!? why!? why!?’ as he grabbed onto the hem of your skirt, hiding his face in the fabric in his suffering. You snapped back into reality, falling to your knees in front of him.

“Erik, no, please-”

“Go, please. Leave me.”

“No, please, hear me out. I don’t hate you-”

“This is hardly a face you’d want to marry!” he protested, burying his face deeper into the fabric of your skirt, resisting as you tried to pull it away. “You may not hate me, but you’re scared! Is this the face of a man you could wake up next to, spend the rest of your love with, make love to at night before we sleep? Please just go!”

“No!” you cried, relenting on your attempts to tear his desperate self away from your skirt. You wrapped your arms around him, this time cradling him against your bosom as you rocked back and forth. You felt the tension slowly dissipate from his form. “I do not hate you and I am not scared of you! I want to do all those things with you, Erik, please I swear!”

His quiet sobs continued to echo through the air, his scared body shaking erratically. With utmost tenderness, you cradled his quivering form in your arms, holding him close and providing a safe haven for his shattered heart. Gently, you brushed your fingers through his hair, whispering words of love and reassurance into his ear. Your touch and soothing voice offered him comfort and solace, doing your best to remind him that your love extended far beyond mere physical appearances.

In that moment, as he sought refuge in your embrace, you felt an overwhelming surge of love and compassion for this broken man before you. Despite the mask he wore, both symbolically and literally, you saw the depth of his pain and the vulnerability he rarely allowed others to witness. Your heart ached for him, yearning to heal the wounds that had haunted him for far too long.

"You are more than your face, Erik," you whispered softly, your voice filled with unwavering affection. "Your heart, your soul, and the love we share transcends any physical imperfections. I love you for who you are, please believe that."

As his sobs gradually subsided, he looked up at you with tear-filled eyes, searching for a glimmer of hope and acceptance. In that moment, you saw a spark of belief flicker within him, a tiny beacon of light amidst the darkness that had consumed him for so long.

"I… I want to believe you," he choked out, his voice trembling with both fear and longing. "But all my life people have only said different. How can they when I don’t have a face, and only the resemblance of a face?”

You held his face gently in your hands, your touch conveying a tenderness that words alone could not express. "I understand. I’m sorry for reacting like that, please forgive me. I love you regardless of your face, it was just unlike anything I’d ever seen before. That’s all. I feel no differently for you than how I felt before you removed the mask.”

He hesitantly inclined towards your touch, his eyes seeking yours for reassurance and acquiescence. He quivered as a vehement cry escaped his lips once more, bedewing your bodice in his tears. Yet, you cared not the slightest, more preoccupied with consoling the poor man trembling before you.

You both sat together on the floor of your bedroom for an indeterminate span of time, but to you it felt like hours. You cradled him like a mother would her infant, tenderly caressing and comforting him with gentle touches and whispered reassurances. You hadn’t seen Erik shed tears since the evening of your confession, and you could only surmise that all the trepidation and unease had finally reached a breaking point and crumbled along with his composure. It deeply saddened you to know the man you loved so intensely hated himself and had been hated so harshly by those around him. You vowed to never cause him pain like everybody else had as long as you both lived.

Eventually, he withdrew from you, gracefully settling on his knees, his hands still shielding his face from your view, protecting his vulnerability. He wiped away the glistening tears that adorned his cheeks, his other hand instinctively seeking to conceal himself from your gaze. A pensive frown graced your mouth as you hesitantly reached upward, your fingers yearning to grasp his trembling hands, only to recoil as he instinctively recoiled in response to your advance.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’ve seen it all now, haven’t I?” you hushed, hands dropping from his hands but instead reaching up to smooth back his hair with your fingers.

He sniffled quietly, “Forgive me, I did not intend on frightening you. I am simply unused to showing my bare face around others, it’s unfamiliar.”

“Of course, I understand, love,” you smiled, gently trailing your hand down the side of his face. Goosebumps littered his skin like a trail.

You moved closer to him, your heart racing with anticipation. You kept one hand on his face, basking in the warmth of his skin that didn't have any disfigurement. Your other hand gently draped over his shoulder as you approached, your fingers delicately tracing the contours of his back. He quivered beneath your touch, his legs extending out from under him to create a space for you to come impossibly closer. As you lowered yourself onto his lap, a surge of electricity coursed through your veins. His breath, warm and intoxicating, caressed your skin, sending shivers down your spine. His hands trembled with uncertainty, itching to remove themselves from his face to come down and touch you instead. You chuckled.

“You can hold me.”

His breath caught in his throat, his mind filled with a whirlwind of desires as he absorbed the words that flowed from your enchanting lips. You couldn't help but chuckle softly, savouring the profound effect you had on the man beneath you.

“I’d like to put on my mask, dear,” Erik finally spoke, “As much as I love having you so close, I’m not ready to show myself to you so unashamedly yet.”

With a nod of your head, you stepped back, allowing him the space he needed to shroud his face from view. Though you comprehended the internal struggle he faced after years of hiding, a bittersweet pang of sadness tugged at the depths of your heart. The poignant reality that he still felt the need to shield himself wounded you deeply. But you tried to keep reminding yourself that it wasn’t personal.

He swiftly and efficiently retied the strings, maintaining his determination, as he stood up following you. You leaned in and planted a brief but meaningful kiss on his lips, savoring the moment before reluctantly breaking away. With a mix of emotions swirling inside, you diverted your attention, attempting to shift your focus away from the recent event that had transpired.

“I’ll be out dusting the statues, you haven’t kept up with them in a while and I’d noticed them on the way in and I think they could really use a clean. I’ll speak to you later.” You quickly retreated from the room without even sparing a second glance.

Erik stood there, mouth agape, unable to comprehend the suddenness of your departure. His mind was flooded with a multitude of questions, doubts, and confusion, hindering his ability to think clearly. As he glanced around the room, an overwhelming sense of awe washed over him, as he tried to process the intensity of the moment and the speed at which you had vanished from his presence. Meanwhile, his body felt an uncomfortable strain, as his arousal pressed insistently against the constricting fabric of his trousers, adding yet another layer of complexity to his already tumultuous thoughts.

You were no less aroused, the tingling sensation in your nether regions proving that you had been mutually affected by your lover. Oh lord, this was going to cause problems.

#phantom of the opera #poto #erik poto #erik the phantom #erik destler #cherik #gerik #gaston leroux #phantom of the opera musical #musical #phantom of the opera x reader #poto x reader #fluff #smut #angst #erik x reader #erik destler x reader #1990 phantom of the opera #2004 phantom of the opera

[silken-moonlight]

My own introduction:

Hello dear reader! I have absolutly forgotten to properly introduce myself. We shall begin with some simple stuff

You can call me Moon or Swan, I go by both names. I am twenty years old and from europe. I am a writer, making up stories since I can remeber.

I enjoy fantasy books, any kind of them. Apart from this Blog I actually write High Fantasy, but this Blog is for my own enjoyment and fun.

My asks are always open for you. For either questions, request or anything else. My dms are open too. I have made a sfw Blog, for just some fluffy and cute writings, maybe some poetry too. Probably also talking about books. Its : @strawberries-filled-with-honey

Some rules for my blog:

No hate toward each other. I gladly listen to criticism or if you don't like something. Keep it respectful however.

Also: No minors. Absolutly no minors. There will be sexual and kinky content. There will be kinks portrayed, probably also some unhealty relationships.

This is all fiction, a form of escapism. So please be kind and nice to each other.

Also, for all BG3 fans: This page is a safe space for Ascended Astarion lovers. I have seen many people debate about it. Both Spawn and Ascended Astarion are good. Neither is better than the other. It's fiction, and what you prefer is personal preference. It does not make you a bad or a better person for what you like.

Mythological creatures I want to write about:

Werwolves

Dragonshifters

Unicornshifters

Vampires

Faefolk

Fandoms I am in:

Baldurs Gate 3

Lord of the Rings/Hobbit/Silmarillion

The phantom of the Opera

Cats

Sailor Moon

The last Unicorn

Sherlock BBC

Good Omens

Hellboy 2

House of the Dragon

Current Wips:

The wild hunt Part 3 (Baldurs Gate)

Older Alpha and the human waitress 5 (werewolf)

Astarion and a flirty Tav (Baldurs Gate 3)

Ancient Vampire x female omega

Stag Fae Part 2

Completed Works( Just click on the Part)

Werewolf best friend in a rut : Idea, Part1, Part 2, Part 3 Part 4

#writers on tumblr #smut writing #author

[ataraxiaspainting]

Hier Encore I.

Yan Chrollo x F Reader.

Synopsis: Yorknew Police Department Headquarters, 1995, April 10th. You are a director of public safety. The Phantom Troupe attacks the headquarters and takes you under the guise of a hostage situation. Even when the ransom is paid, you are never returned and assumed to be dead. After thirteen months of captivity, in 1996, on May 9th, you escape and try to learn how to live again somewhere far away from your captor. The payment of freedom comes with a steep cost, one that stains your hands so much that even if you drown them in bleach, the stain will remain there for the rest of your life.

Warnings: Yandere themes, kidnapping, the reader is described as AFAB and uses she/her pronouns respectively, not SFW implications, misogynistic undertones (not from Chrollo), manipulation, references to religion, violence/gore, minor character death, and past stalking.

Word Count: 18k.

Ten Songs Like This Piece:

Lacrimosa by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

4:00 A.M. by Taeko Onuki

My Girlfriend Is a Witch by October Country

Michelle by Sir Chloe

Sonne by Rammstein

Enemy by Imagine Dragons

Venus Fly Trap by MARINA

Maneater by Nelly Furtado

cult leader by KiNG MALA

Teacher’s Pet by Melanie Martinez 

"She looked like a vixen, and that’s what she was; she had all the instincts of a female fox. She was the proverbial predatory female. She had what she wanted, now, and she was content. There was just the getting completely away with it that counted.” – Gil Brewer, Sin for Me

i. “Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow."

The sitting rooms in these types of hotels have always been your favorite place to sit because of the scenery. There is almost always a large window overlooking whatever city you are temporarily placed in with your captor, making everything below you seem insignificant. You see nothing other than your faded reflection in the window and blinking city lights that are so small they seem like a city of stars. At the same time, you can only touch the framed glass panes or the couch you are sitting on. You can only hear Chrollo’s pleased hums and the occasional page-turning of his current novel. You cannot feel or hear the world outside, no matter how much you try to imagine such.

When you were working, you would use your phone to notify others of what you were doing at work or when you would arrive home, but now you can't feel your pants pocket where the phone was usually kept. It would vibrate or chime loudly as its duty as your alarm and messenger. The phone, once opened, would relay your family members’ voices, or your boss’, or your assistants’. Even if some voices were secretly irritating to you before, you feel compelled to admit that they are better than hearing nothing other than the squeaky wheels of a room service cart or the air conditioner. You cannot feel the rest of your work uniform, a classic white dress shirt and black tie. You cannot hear your co-workers’ drunken laughs as they cheer with large glasses of beer in their hands. A small thud catches your attention, making you turn your head in that direction. Chrollo is putting his book down on the coffee table in front of you two. It is closed, with the cover facing upward, and the title in a foreign language. His cup is empty except for a few drops, having been previously filled with black coffee. Yours simply has room-temperature water, still filled to the brim. You make eye contact for a second or two, his eyes calm and composed. Chrollo breaks it as his arm reaches out towards his coffee cup. He picks it up with grace, sipping quietly before setting it back down on its porcelain saucer. A small smile forms on his pale lips as he looks at you.

"You seem rather bored, my dear. Would you mind conversing with me?”

“No, I would not mind.” You say, your lips moving to mimic his own with precision.

“Marvelous. Would you like to talk about anything in particular?” Chrollo asks, his left arm moving to rest on the couch.

“Anything you would like to discuss.”

“If you insist.” He places one of his legs over the other; his posture is relaxed but his stare is suddenly intense. “There is something I would like to ask of you. Tell me, do you enjoy being here with me?”

“I do. I needed some time to adjust, but I like it here. I have fewer responsibilities than what I used to have.” 

“Wonderful.” Chrollo’s smile widens.

You know that he would not be pleased if you told him the truth; that you feel nothing for him aside from disdain. His softness would fade and give way to his true colors rapidly. An eye-catching crimson red specifically. It is the color of blood, danger, fire, some species of spiders and snakes… It is the color of danger and anger. Perhaps he would threaten to murder a dear friend of yours. Perhaps he would hit you. Perhaps he would isolate you even further by not returning for days at a time. Perhaps he will tie you to the bed. …Perhaps he will kill you. It would be easy, you know it from the bits of strength he has shown you. All it would take is a simple wave of his hand and–

“I enjoy having you here, beside me. Your presence is very comforting.” His eyes glimmer for what seems like less than a fifth of a second, a light that you learned only shows when he is curious about something.

“Did you want to ask me something?”

“I am glad you noticed.” His head tilts slightly to the side. “I do have something I want to ask you.”

“Well, what is your question?”

“Do you plan to try to run away from me?” His cold tone and facial expression are unlike the one he had a few moments ago. 

“No. I do not.” You shake your head and take his hand gently. “What better place is there to be other than having you by my side?”

Chrollo’s eyes seem to soften at your answer. His posture returns to one of no worries. His shoulders are not as tense. His breathing is a bit steadier. He looks at your hand with a slight smile. He leans a bit towards you. He squeezes your hand lightly. You put your head on his shoulder to further convince him to believe the lie. Your captor hums with a pleased voice.

He is cold to the touch. It is like your hand is in a blizzard, a small warm flame surrounded by snow. There is a slight stinging sensation. It is colder than literal ice on your skin. Chrollo’s grip is tender yet strong, making it clear that he does not want to let go of your soft hand. 

You feel his nose go into your hair and dare not do anything to stop it.

Your kidnapper inhales sharply and sighs fondly. His breath smells like mint; sharp, fresh, and cool. To distract yourself from the unpleasant truth, you look around the hotel room. There is a rose bouquet in front of you two, still fresh since you both arrived this morning. They are a deep burgundy color, similar to that of the city lights outside. The glass they were placed in is intricate with flower markings. The coffee table is rosewood by the looks of it, most likely polished right before you two came. The curtains on the sides of the large window are a fawn brown, obviously to match the roses. The carpet is a beige with chocolate brown swirl patterns on it. You try to follow one with your eyes but get lost in it after a few seconds. The couch you two are sitting on is beige as well. Perhaps the reason why this room is so dull is because of how colorful the city outside of it is. Designs like this are probably why this city has so many tourists. Either that or Chrollo chose its blandness specifically because he still wanted an aura of superiority, both literally with how high the hotel room is above and in spirit with the colors. It is ironic, but Chrollo’s white dress shirt is the brightest thing inside this room. You wonder if his clothing choice was on purpose too.

You know yours was. A black dress that stops just before your knees, with gold earrings and anklet. It is a part of your plan to lower his guard. You just washed your hair a few hours ago and put on a bit too much perfume. You walk with confidence yet not too much of it. It is similar to how you used to dress when you went to parties hosted by members of high society, tasked to butter them up a little to the higher-ups’ requests for funding public safety projects. Those people were pompous for certain, but still childish and easily fooled. Chrollo, on the other hand, is pompous but intelligent and a manipulator himself, hence why you have done this dance for the past thirteen months for him to lower his guard. You think it is working, but it is not time to escape just yet.

There are still matters that must be attended to. Like a possible escape route. You know that if you try to escape Chrollo in this hotel he will catch you quite quickly since this room is so small and he will for sure notice if the only hotel key is missing. Also, you note that you cannot know for sure whether or not Chrollo fully trusts you at this point. You plan to ask him to take you on a date tomorrow and then run away once you see an area with much fewer people. You will hide a change of clothes in your purse and change your appearance. You will use a false name from then on. You will try to notify your loved ones about your whereabouts and tell them to move within a few days to be safe just in case the Troupe knows where they live. Then you will try to go north then east using the money you have secretly been stealing from him. If he says no or still has a tight grip on you throughout the day, you will not try to escape that day and try within a few more months. You will repeat this process until you have escaped successfully. You must make sure that you have loosened Chrollo’s grip on you enough, otherwise, he will catch you quickly. Who knows what will happen after that? Who knows if you will ever get this chance again? The answer is most likely never.

“Your scent… it’s nice.” Chrollo whispers.

You bat your eyelashes at him as a response.

Chrollo’s eyes appear to be full of adoration. Your makeup is fully done, a style that you know your captor likes. Winged black eyeliner. Black eyeshadow. Dark red lipstick. Your hair is in a braid with your bangs just slightly covering your eyes. Your nails are painted a color to match your eyes.

Deep down, you worry if this is enough, too much, or too little. If it is too much, he will catch on fast, and you will pay dearly for the consequences. If it is too little, he shall not be impressed and not take you outside tomorrow. It has to be just right. Chrollo leans in closer, still making eye contact as you bat your lashes. His hand is still grabbing onto yours, but it seems to have gotten a little warmer because of the heat of your own. Either that, or you had gotten used to it.

“You truly are a sight… My girl…” Chrollo’s other hand makes its way to your cheek. There is a strong scent of flowers coming off of you. He leans in more until his face and yours are just inches apart. “You smell lovely… Let me taste you.”

You hide your disgust and nod your head. 

Chrollo’s lips touch yours. The cold hand that was holding yours also makes it upward toward your other cheek and squeezes lightly. His fingers are thicker than yours. His fingernails are in pristine condition as usual. His wrists are bony. His skin looks callused, but in actuality, it is quite soft. There aren’t any scars or injuries on them, which is remarkable considering what he does for a living. You wonder if those he killed had touched his soft skin and thought they were being strangled by silk instead of actual human hands. His lips are soft too. Chrollo’s kisses always were elegant and gentle, but you think that is because you have tried your hardest to not disobey him. You wonder if the people Chrollo extorted information out of knew the touch of his lips. At least some of them knew, you think. Chrollo is attractive to many people, both rich and poor. He had told you a few stories such as when he had a sexual relationship with an older woman who had a high-paying role in government and one day he ran off with all of the riches in her safe. She died soon after. Chrollo says she died of a broken heart. You don’t know whether he meant she was mentally heartbroken and was joking with you or she had her heart mangled by Chrollo during her last few minutes alive. You don’t think you want to know the answer either. 

Chrollo’s tongue starts to trace your lower lip with greed. You feel your heart nearly skip a beat. Let me out, you want to say. Let me out. It feels like you are black and blue all over from all the tall hurdles you had to jump through to make it this far. A voice in the back of your mind says that the outside will never heal your wounds, but giving in would. It is better to just give up, it speaks in the back of your mind with a forked tongue and unsettlingly calm tone. It would be better to just accept it. Perhaps Stockholm Syndrome is settling in, or it is just your hope for the future withering away.

Your kidnapper bites slightly on your lower lip and looks deeply into your eyes. His pupils are dilated.

You look down at his lips and notice the hue of your dark red lipstick.

Chrollo doesn’t seem to care as he pulls your face towards his own again. Either that or he did not notice it, but it is unlikely considering how perceptive he is. His cold hands hold your warm face in place as you feel his hot breath tickle your nostrils. His elbows go underneath your armpits and stab into the couch. You hear nothing except for his breathing because you look at the clock on the wall to distract yourself yet again. It is nearly midnight. 

Your perfume smells like dahlias and roses, which Chrollo has mentioned liking on you before.

His right hand pushes your right cheek into the arm of the couch and he starts to suck and bite your neck.

Your skin is soft as usual, looking like porcelain.

Chrollo has complimented it before. He has complimented your scent before. He has complimented your makeup before. He has complimented your hair before. You look beautiful, there is always a genuineness in his tone that would make you feel slightly sick like you were going to throw up whatever expensive fruit or chocolate you had eaten. You would never voice it though, because that would mean all the progress you have made to lower his guard would be for nothing. It would only make him test your sufferance further by doing unspeakable acts against you or your loved ones. The only weapons he has not taken away from you are your tactical mind and honeyed words. If you play them correctly, you will eventually escape and live a somewhat peaceful life. 

Chrollo moves upward toward your ear and nibbles at your lobe softly. “You are so beautiful, my precious.” He whispers. “So beautiful…” His perfume smells like sandalwood and musk. “Like a doll. Truly, you’re quite the sight to see…” Chrollo purrs.

His fingers trace the top of your hair.

“Like silk. So soft and gentle…” His fingers dance downward on your braid, twisting back and forth. “The shampoo I chose for you was a good choice.”

You smile.

“White jasmine…” A sweet and soft scent. Swirls of saccharine and fruit. A slight tart smell of citrus. Universally ambrosial paired with the bitter words that leave your syrup-covered lips; making a charming palette of a flavor similar to that of biting into a square of dark chocolate mixed with orange zest. The texture is not ever strange because of how well-crafted the chocolate is. It is not difficult to swallow but doesn’t melt in the mouth too fast either. The delicacy’s flavor stays in the mouth even after it is fully dissolved, coating each tooth in a substance that has a lovely bittersweet taste like honey mixed with black tea. “It suits you.”

*~*~*~*

1995, April 10th. The Phantom Troupe targeted the Yorknew Police Department Headquarters, one of the largest public safety headquarters in the world, killing 1,891 people. 

A lot of them were on the lower floors, scampering away to locked exits like stray, captured cats, clawing and screaming at the metal doors to open. You sometimes envy them, for their time with the Troupe was short. They knew how their fate was going to end; swift and twisted. A quick punch. A sudden stab. A loud blast of a firearm. They knew how they were going to die. They comforted each other as they were ripped limb from limb. 

You don’t know how you are going to die, or when you are going to die. You could die in a few seconds, a few months, or a few years. You could die by being shot, being poisoned, or being strangled. No one came to comfort you, and no one comforts you now. No one listened to your struggles and cries for help as you were pushed in a black car, gagged and restrained. No one helped you in one of your most desperate moments. 

You are tired of doing everything with the person that made your life a living hell. You want to go back to eating dinner at a restaurant and not feel an unwanted hand on your thigh. You want to go back to sleep with a loose arm around you and not a strangling one. You want to go back to talking to someone you like about a topic you like and not think your every move toward freedom is a gamble.

1995, April 10th. The Phantom Troupe targeted the Yorknew Police Department Headquarters, one of the largest public safety headquarters in the world, killing 1,891 people, leaving very few people to tell others of the tale. Perhaps you count, but you are presumed dead by the outside world so it wouldn’t matter anyhow. You are all alone and stuck in a situation akin to limbo. 

*~*~*~*

Chrollo keeps batting his eyelashes at you across the dining table.

His hair is well-kept, he is wearing a fancy suit, and his nearly black eyes are wider and brighter than when you saw him last. It is well past sunset, the sky outside the window a murky, livid color. He is humming now, staring at you rather than the uncut steak in front of him. You are about to stop playing with your food when–

“Black is a good color on you.”

Your head jerks up. His eyes are even more vivid, and focused, while yours are uncertain. Your hand stops moving your fork to your mouth and falls back to the table lifelessly. 

“Your dress,” he smiles.

“I…” You look down and close your eyes. You have to force your shoulders not to shake by thinking of happier times in your life. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” You refuse to look at him for it will show what you are feeling. Your heart beats so fast that you feel like you are about to go into cardiac arrest. “I have something for you, after dinner.”

He has just come back from another successful heist in this city. It makes sense.

“I’m not very hungry, Chrollo.”

He hums. “You are going to go hungry.” You hear him place his cup of wine back onto the table. “At least eat the radish soup. You need to eat your vegetables.”

As if brought to existence by his words, you smell the bowl of vegetable soup beside the uneaten steak. You mostly smell the tartness of the tomato slices, big and bright. Mint comes second, fresh yet light compared to the tomato smell. You don’t smell the radish, though, despite the chunks of them being large enough to hardly fit in your spoon.

You open your eyes and lift your hand to pick up the spoon in the bowl. You take a piece of radish in your mouth, quickly chewing the peppery vegetable.

You still refuse to look at your captor. You just try to focus on eating the soup so you can at least temporarily avoid his gaze. You are never this nervous when you are about to try to manipulate someone into doing what you say, but Chrollo’s eye for tactics is about the same as yours. When you are almost done with your soup, you suddenly hear Chrollo’s chair move, followed by footsteps.

“You’re nervous.”

You shake your head and take the last bite of your soup. “I am not. I am just thinking about something, dear.”

He grabs the hand that was holding your spoon. His thumb makes circles around your own.

You take some of the quietest and quickest deep breaths and look at Chrollo, the corners of your mouth turning upwards into another deceitful smile. “You don’t need to worry about me. You already work hard enough as it is.”

Chrollo hoists you up and hugs you. 

The window gives way to the starless night sky as dark as obsidian–the moon a slight crescent, and a snow white. It floats atop the carefully cut trees onto their tips and stays there, like a strung puppet in a finished puppet show, unmoving until called upon again by its master. 

“What is my beautiful [First] worried about?” He murmurs. 

“I was examining something.” Your fingertips graze against his palm. You plan to recreate the classic dance of Black Swan Pas de Deux, with you taking on the role of Odile. “Something most peculiar.” Your hand clasps onto his. “I am like a train. I can only run anywhere my rails take me. I suppose you are a new track I have yet to explore, and the only option is to move wherever it is you take me.” His hand feels warm, but not warm enough to comfort others. “It has been an unexpected journey with many stops, but it is my purpose to keep moving forward until the end. The end’s length feels far and I feel that only through death would the tracks cusp.” You stand up straighter than before and your breath echoes in his ear. “People focus more on the train’s condition than the tracks but the tracks are the most important part of the journey. Without tracks, trains would not exist. So, Chrollo…” You feel comfortably numb and not as timid as you were a few minutes ago. “How do you feel?”

You look into your captor’s eyes, and all you see is hell. The very gates of hell in the eyes of a human being. When judgment passes, all of your sins shall be weighed. The only way for your sins to disappear before that day is to lie. 

The Devil himself is waiting for the moment when your mask shatters and gives way to a horrid monstrosity. Only then can he punish you for your misdeeds.

“...How I feel, huh?” Long, silent fingers move like a spider’s legs up and down your back. He is now reciprocating your dance by playing the role of Prince Siegfried. The gramophone plays Beethoven’s Für Elise.  “I think you're a fascinating woman, darling.” His tone is gentle, contrasting with the usual coldness and detachment he carries so often. He moves his other hand to the side of your face and gently caresses your cheeks. “You're smart, creative, and strong. You have a unique charm that sets you apart from everyone else.” 

Like a rose, Chrollo’s thorns and stunningly beautiful features cut deep into both your psyche and the world around you. He has spent what feels like years trying to pluck your petals off one by one in a game of effeuiller la marguerite, the logic behind it being a bizarre combination of many things. His stalk, the axis that connects all his reasons, would be simple curiosity. He was curious to find out where your traits stemmed from, what and who made you the way you are today if you were hiding something nefarious behind that bright smile and kind voice of yours, and thus began his hunt for more knowledge. His calyx, a shield made of his in the form of sepals, represents how protective he is of his deepest, darkest secrets. He has buried them all beneath a temple of fake phlegmatism and honesty. The petals of his biggest and most colorful flower lead his admirers astray so they could never uncover the real Chrollo, which you think is a mercy in itself. Most of those who have seen his true self are buried along with it soon enough.

You want to take a lighter and light him ablaze so that he shall never reroot in the soil around him. The only way you can do such a thing is to play a game of effeuiller la marguerite as well. This is the path you must take to get your freedom back.

The key is to follow the hidden rules.

That means doing things you find repulsive but he finds lovely.

That means kissing him when he comes back. That means letting him do what he wants with your body. That means lying straight to his face when saying you are attracted to him. It will all be worth it in the end, you tell yourself.

You hum, acting like those words that leave his mouth are the things you want to hear the most.

“Those eyes, so grounded yet divine, are the only ones worthy of reverence.” His pale lips twirl upward like a ballet dancer’s arms. “I shall be honored if you choose me to be your apostle.”

“Do you see yourself when you gaze into my eyes, my beloved?”

“I do.” His voice seems breathless, almost drunk, his mind above the clouds and fantasizing about the future. Your eyes are similar to that of a small, round mirror that can reflect light just like the surface of a pond does. 

“I see myself when I look at yours as well,” You sigh with a pseudo impression of an amorous tone. “I suppose we are meant to be together.” Like an elegant ballerina, you relevé. “So, Chrollo…” Your lips are so close to his. Your voice is hushed, calm, and teasing. “I have a favor to ask.” 

His eyes light up with adoration, similar to how Romeo first saw Juliet at the Capulet ball. 

“Ask me for anything you wish for and I shall see to it that it is done.” The hand that is on your back clenches it a bit more.

“I would like to go somewhere tomorrow.” 

“Hm? Where would you like to go?” Chrollo’s tone is now a mix of curiosity and hopefulness. 

“The planetarium.” Your thumb circles his. “That is if you’d like to oblige my request.”

“Of course.” His fingers curl into yours. He smiles as he speaks, his tone soft and sweet. “I’d like to go to the planetarium with you, especially since you have such a desire to go.” There is a twinkle in his eyes.

“Perhaps afterward we can go to a cafe and sit in the park?”

“That sounds like an excellent plan.” He casts you an unfamiliar glance before your lips meet. You start to back away as he lets go of you, and you pick up your glass of water. You take a few sips before setting it back down on the table.

The absence of sound doesn't please you, as the music from the gramophone has ceased and Chrollo seems lost in thought. However, you're not bothered enough to not enjoy the silence. You are envisioning a future of peace, where your captor never finds you again. 

Donned in velvet attire and sipping on tea, you frequent the sandy shores, observing the ebb and flow of the ocean. Undisturbed, you create music with your violin for an audience of one; yourself. A life of uttermost pleasure.

“I shall prepare for tomorrow, then.”

Chrollo nods with a satisfied hum.

“Very well.”

You slink off into the bedroom, grab your purse, and pack the money you had stolen from Chrollo’s jackets and pants. It is not much, but it should be enough to cover travel fees. You also pack more comfortable clothes and shoes to run in. They are clothes you have never worn, so they are the clothes most likely to not be recognized by him.  You lay out a fancier outfit over your purse to hide it. 

Now all there is to do now is wait.

*~*~*~*

“Get in.” 

Your mouth is gagged with a tied scarf and your hands are restrained with handcuffs. There is no warmth in the monster of a man’s tone. There is only an open car door and a forceful push. Later, a slamming sound. 

You are covered in blood, your supervisor’s blood–he tried to use you as a shield against the intruders but was met with a bullet to the head–so much blood. Your dress shirt is as red as a traffic light or a ladybug, though you would prefer the traffic light because you signal to those still dying not to scream anymore, that there was no point in trying to delay the inevitable. There are small pieces of his flesh inside your mouth, you are certain of it considering that you can taste something metallic and flabby. Multiple small, flabby things. Your colleagues’ screams still ring in your ears; they hurt so much.

You can still hear the crunching of their smashed skulls and bones, the alarms, the emergency protocol announcement, the gunshots, the loud severing and ripping of muscle and fat, and–

“Greetings.” A voice, calm and placid. A man sitting beside you, visibly comfortable with one of his legs over the other. He moves his left arm and clicks your seatbelt into place, then does the same with his own. 

A blaring statement outside the car. “Two billion Jenny and she’ll be set free,” one of the thieves said, probably the one that pushed you into the car, “if we aren’t paid by next week she dies.”

“Do not worry.” The man beside you speaks in a lulling tone. “It is simply a ploy. We won’t kill you, I will make sure of it.”

You look down at your legs and shoes, considering what to do or say if the gag is ever taken off. 

A firm grip on your shoulder and a say of your name makes you look at him again. His eyes are filled with nothing but obsession and make your heart stop beating for a split second. “If I take this gag off of you, do you promise not to scream?” 

You nod, because what choice do you have other than being compliant? 

There is a pleased hum and a praise you cannot exactly remember, then the scarf is off and on the floor of the car. 

“I should introduce myself, shouldn’t I?” A warm chuckle. “My name is Chrollo, and… for now, just let me say that we are going to get to know each other quite a bit.”

*~*~*~*

“Stars are such wonders, aren’t they, dearest?”

You give an impressed hum as you look around and sit in your seat beside Chrollo. The room soon goes dark as the public speaker starts talking.

There is a single spotlight on her that is a bright white which contrasts with the pitch-black room. She bows as some of the audience claps, you included. You don’t think Chrollo clapped, though.

“It's been estimated by astronomers that there could be as many as one septillion stars in the universe.” 

“Yet there is only one of you,” Chrollo whispers in your ear.

The announcer speaks with a proud yet modest tone, not being too outward yet not being too quiet to not draw any attention to herself. “The Milky Way galaxy is home to over 100 billion stars, with the Sun being the most well-known.”

You are not the moon above, you aren’t even a star. You are simply a piece of an asteroid, soon to fade to dust in the cold, cruel darkness of space.

You look at him and smile. He smiles back at you.

“The creation of this universe brings me joy, for it has led me to cross paths with you.” The spherical walls light up and turn a dark blue and fill with holographic stars and meteors. “I’m glad.”

“These fiery balls are composed primarily of hydrogen, with traces of helium and other elements.” The speaker continues. “Each star has a unique lifespan, which can vary from millions to trillions of years, and their characteristics shift as they age.”

“The Sun is needed to sustain life in this galaxy, just like how I need you and you need me.”

You hum again and grab his hand gently. “You do not need to hang a legion of stars around yourself to show you are not Neptune, for I already know you are my Sun.”

“Should the sun disappear, the Earth would be devoid of light, warmth, and life.” It is like Chrollo had a vision of the future. “Initially, the planets would follow their orbits for a short while before eventually exiting the solar system. Although the sun's rays would continue to reach us for a brief eight-and-a-half minutes after its disappearance, the world would be plunged into darkness.”

“Within a week, temperatures would plummet to zero degrees Celsius, causing the demise of most flora and fauna.” Chrollo resumes. “As time passes, the atmosphere would also gradually disappear. The Sun is very important if you cannot tell.”

“I concur, beloved.”

“It’s a miracle the Sun’s warmth exists in the first place, or that this planet’s orbit was placed in the perfect environment.” Chrollo sighs peacefully, but you aren’t sure if he is in awe at the planetarium or you. “We wouldn’t have existed if this planet was made in a different area of the universe.”

“It is quite beautiful, isn’t it? Thanks to the Sun, now we have a bright future ahead of us all.”

His hand clasps onto yours. “I make a vow to you that our bond will never break, and we will remain inseparable for eternity.” His mouth is so close you feel like he is about to kiss your ear. “Do not worry about the details, for I shall take care of everything.”

*~*~*~*

There is one mirror. There are two hanging jackets. There are three lights above you. There are four paintings on the wall facing the entrance. Five vases contain your favorite flowers, two on the floor and three on the table. There are six rows of stone bricks, then carpet at the start of the stairs. Seven glass panes make up the decoration above the entryway. There are eight engravings on the locked wooden door, each of a flower or deer. Nine smells are coming from upstairs; garlic, cheese, tomato, onion, poultry, olive oil, butter, pasta, and basil. Let me out. 

It’s dark outside, but the chandelier above provides enough light for you to see that the door is still locked. As much as you want to mask your real feelings from your captor, you have to acknowledge the fact that you cannot breathe. There is a call from upstairs. You put your book down on the sole chair. There are ten steps leading to the second floor. 

There is one staircase leading to the third floor. There are two rooms: the living room and the kitchen. Three footsteps are approaching you. Four words leave Chrollo’s mouth, but you cannot remember them.

You cannot cry. You cannot do anything but smile and hug back. His embrace feels like it is burning your skin. He says something about your beauty. He grabs your hand gently. There are ten steps you take as he guides you to the stove.

There is one pot full of food. There are two plates. Three instruments are playing on the gramophone; violin, piano, and cello. There are four chairs near the kitchen table. There are five books, with one of them being an open cookbook. There are six candles on the table with the lights turned off. There are seven wrapped gifts on the table. There are eight seconds of Chrollo hugging you.

You unwrap the gifts. Matching necklaces with engraved names on them. A gold ring with rubies. A decorated photo of you taken from a Polaroid. A large box of your favorite chocolate. A butterfly pin. A velvet coat with a spider embroidered on the back. Chrollo’s smile almost makes you shudder.

There is one chair you sit in. There are two utensils before you; a fork and a knife. There are thoughts in your mind for three seconds; fantasizing about you stabbing him. There are four seconds of temptation before you ignore it. There are five seconds of silence before you say you love Chrollo. Gifts are celebrating six months of you being held captive. There are seven roses in the vase in the middle of the candles. There are eight bites you take of your food, and then force yourself to eat the rest through your nauseousness. 

Let me out.

*~*~*~*

The nutty smell of coffee brings you a feeling of slight warmth and relaxation. The chalkboard above the barista reads Carte Du Jour with white words, listing off the assortment of pastries, coffees, teas, and fruit-flavored drinks. Chrollo is ordering for you two, spending what feels like an unnecessary amount of Jenny on pumpkin muffins, chocolate croissants, and two espressos. The barista audibly gasped when he gave her a tip that can best be described as more than what she would make in a week. 

The two of you soon make your way to this city’s largest park and sit on a bench away from most people. There is a musician loudly playing clarinet nearby, but he is not close enough for you two to see him, and he is too invested in playing his instrument to notice anyone. The sun is well above the pond, making the ducks swimming in it almost glow. Chrollo is still holding the paper bag full of the pastries and his espresso, but you are holding yours in your hand.

He is still, visibly calm, and enjoying the sight.

You feel an invisible pressure on your neck. It’s just a knot in my throat, you think to yourself, closing your eyes. The sight of his stillness gifts you a veil of comfort so thin that if anyone were to touch it it would tear. I’m not going to die. But you can’t breathe.

Your heart tells you otherwise. You can feel, no, hear blood pulse to the very tips of your fingers. Your feet tell you otherwise. They are cold. They hurt. They are adhered to the ground. Your arms and legs tell you otherwise. There is nothing but pins and needles all over. This is your chance, the little voice in your head says with blind reassurance. Who knows when you will ever get this chance again? Do it now, and be quick about it. But you can’t breathe. You can’t breathe, and you have to try your hardest to stop the hand holding your espresso from shaking and falling on you. 

“Thank you for taking me here,” You smile the best you can, as usual. You try to not focus on your memories of Chrollo’s observation skills. “You made my day. This is one of the best experiences I have had in a while.”

There is sweat going down your forehead. Chrollo nods his head and smiles. You’re afraid, and you never are afraid. His head leans forward until your noses are barely touching. 

He is so close you can smell the mint in his mouth. 

“Of course, my dear. It is an honor to have you in my life, after all.”

“I… would say the same.”

He lifts his head slightly. “Spending time with you is always a pleasure. I would commit the gravest sins if it meant having moments like this forever.” You know that he is being literal. That is the reason you nearly shudder.

He is leaning in closer. You want to run. You have to run.

He backs away after kissing you, and that is when you strike.

You throw your espresso on him, its lid on the bench. You don’t focus on his reaction, because you are running as fast as you can with your purse.

You toss your heels to the side of an unknown road when your feet start to bleed. 

You change clothes in a rat-infested public restroom. You throw everything aside from your stolen money into a nearby lake in fear of a tracking device being on something. You cover the wounds on your feet with toilet paper and then put on sneakers. 

You put your hair up in a bun and cover it with a hood.

You wash your makeup off using lake water.

You soon get on a bus. Then another.

You then eventually take a train. For nearly three days you stay, hardly eating out of fear of vomiting due to nervousness. You walk the rest on foot until you have reached somewhere far, far away from that city. 

You steal money from those around you when needed. You threaten those around you when needed, threatening them to stay silent or their fate will end at your hands. You make use of a few kind-hearted people who let you into their homes when they see you, dirty and injured on the side of the road. They clean up your wounds, give you warm food, and you repay them with a simple, untrusting, and cold goodbye and leave without a trace. 

You move from place to place every few hours.

Then you move from place to place every few days.

Eventually, you move from place to place every few months. You ultimately settle into a town by the seashore, under a fake alias. You move into a cabin by the beach with no warmth other than a few candles and no entertainment other than books or writing. You eat the cheapest food the local saloon sells that day. 

The day you escaped was 1996, May 9th.

It is now 1997, August 3rd.

*~*~*~*

The speakers blare a sound akin to ambulance sirens. A man’s voice soon after, panicky and horrified. 

He spoke of evacuating as soon as possible through the emergency exits. An infamous terrorist group is in the building, he said. Then the sound of a gunshot, cries for mercy, then another voice. 

“Run, rabbits.” Whoever was speaking had confidence and arrogance. 

Your supervisor stands up from his desk and his guards pull out their guns. You look around for a way out. Screams from outside the office. Flesh being ripped apart. The evacuation door was locked, as much as you and the guards pushed and pulled. 

The main door was kicked open by a man taller than any you have seen, ripped apart by its hinges, and fell on the floor. The guards shot at him, but they reflected off of him like he was made of iron. He was fast, fast enough to smash their brains in with his mere fists. He laughed loudly, amused. Your supervisor grabbed you by your hair and put you in a chokehold. 

A gun was put to your head.

He threatened to shoot you. The threat was met with a gunshot behind his head, his body falling on top of you as he cried out for mercy, and his blood covering you from head to toe as someone dressed in black slashed his body again and again. 

You put your hands up and close your eyes, expecting the same fate as you hear his corpse falling off of you with a loud thud.

…

Instead, your wrists were grabbed and put in handcuffs. A hand on your shoulder and a pat.

“We can’t have damaged goods. You have been chosen to live… at least for now. Congrats.”

A push that blurred between light and strong. A walk out the office doors and to the elevator. A thumb pressing the down button. The elevator doors opened with an automated voice saying going down. Another button is being pressed, the doors closing, and jazz is playing.

One of them, the swordsman, asked how people working (or worked, really) could wait for an elevator every day to go to the top floor, saying how boring that would be if it was him. You cannot tell if he was joking with you or was genuinely curious. The elevator slowly goes down, the light at the top of the button selection decreasing from seventy to one. The doors open. Another push.

A walk out to the lobby.

“Oh, do you guys think that the pocket change from that dude will be enough to buy some snacks from the vending machines? I’m pretty hungry right now. Do you guys think so?”

A woman with magenta hair rolls her eyes and scoffs. “You are such a child, Uvo. You want to get snacks, now?”

Another scoff in response. “Hunger is part of the everyday human experience. Don’t think you are so above it, Machi.”

“Fine.” The swordsman speaks, clearly annoyed. He looks at you with a neutral expression. “Take her to the car and Feitan and I will get you snacks, my treat.”

The man wearing all black rolls his eyes.

“I never agreed to that.” He shakes his half-masked head. “I am also not hungry. We can also get food elsewhere. Vending machine food is expensive. Waste of money.”

Machi rolls her eyes in turn.

“Everyone is dead already.”

You are closing your eyes and imagining being somewhere else, anywhere else than here. A cafe. A ballet. Anywhere but here.

“I’m hungry.”

The swordsman punches him in the arm.

“Ow, Nobu!”

…

A man crawls on his arms towards you all, his legs ripped off. He cries out and curses as he coughs up blood. Curses for their family. Curses for eternal damnation. They are quickly snuffed out by Uvo’s punch and brain matter splatters all over the lobby floor.

Then silence.

The man called Nobu sighs, visibly exhausted. He looks at Uvo like he is two years old. He asks Uvo what snacks he wants. He responds with something meaty or cheesy, like jerky or something. An alright leaves Nobu’s thin lips and he asks you where the vending machines are.

You feel like you are about to soil yourself. Why the hell are they acting so normal after killing an entire building full of people? But with a shaky voice, you tell him that it should be on the 61st floor because that is where all the workers go to eat lunch. 

A damn it leaves his mouth then, and another roll of his eyes. But he thanks you, and he and Feitan go back to the elevators. 

Uvo and Machi stare at you. 

“Listen,” Machi finally talks to you. She tries to smile, but it doesn’t bring you any comfort. If anything, you feel like you are about to cry more at the sight. She puts her hand on your shoulder. “We don’t want to hurt you. Far from it, if that helps.”

It doesn’t. You just look down at your feet. 

A sigh. Another push.

“You could have tried to be more gentle, Uvo. Now she’s scared of all of us. What’s the boss gonna think?”

You stare at them. They glare at each other.

“Machi, she’s supposed to be our hostage, at least to the public eye.” He looks at the receptionist's desk, where the receptionist’s corpse lays, her neck bent to an acute angle. You look around for any possible escape route. You see one. The main entrance. 

You run fast. Until you are outside. Uvo’s arm wraps around your waist and pulls you back.

“Listen. We do not want to hurt you. But we have to at least seem like we are rough handling you.” His hands go on your shoulders and make you walk towards a foreign black car. “Sorry. But it’s for the best. I  promise.”

“Just put this on.” She wraps a scarf around your mouth, gagging you. 

“Hey, you’ll have a good life from now on. Trust us with that, at least. You’ll be happier now.”

Uvo pushes you, hard, when he sees police cars approaching. He opens the car door. A malicious smile appears on his face, like a mask he has just put on.

“Get in.”

You hope that whatever is in store for you isn’t as bad as what your colleagues suffered.

*~*~*~*

There is a man around your age who goes out around the same time as you to smoke by the beach.

He has dark hair with a slight purple tint, making you assume that it is dyed. It looks long and it is swept to the side, except for a quarter of it which is shaved. He has near-black eyes, but they don’t look as intimidating as Chrollo’s. If anything, they look slightly sorrowful. 

You go on the fishing dock as usual with a box of cigarettes and a lighter in your sweater pocket. The man is there, searching his own pockets and visibly frustrated.

“Do you want one of mine?”

He looks up at you. His eyes wander from your face downward towards your extended hand which holds an unlit cigarette. He doesn’t answer and just stares at it.

“I noticed you are looking in your pockets for one.” You smile, but as you usually do with fake kindness, not caring enough about him to get too close.

“I…” His eyes squint, slightly suspicious. Perhaps it takes a moment or two for him to realize you are talking to him. “Yes, thanks.”

“Hmm. You’re welcome.” You hand him the cigarette and you take another one out for you. You put it in your mouth as you pull out your lighter from your sweatpant pocket. “So, what is your name?”

He doesn’t answer, because he is looking in his hoodie pocket again.

“Damn it.”

You extend your lighter out to him. “Do you need a lighter?” He takes it. “You sure are forgetful tonight, huh?”

He presses the ignition button and orange flames arise. The end of his cigarette turns a yam orange. He hands your lighter back to you.

You do the same with yours. You then put the lighter back in your sweatpants pocket.

You inhale the puff of smoke that enters your mouth, an ash gray. You take the cigarette out of your mouth with two fingers and exhale. You then look back at the man, who just did the same thing.

“Thanks for the help.”

You smile.

“Of course.”

“I don’t think I have seen you before so you must be the one that just moved in, right?”

You nod. “Yes.”

“Cool. Out of all the places you could have gone, you chose this town.” He raises an eyebrow, visibly curious. “May I ask why?”

You fix your eyes on him, taking a few moments to process the unexpected nature of his question. He inhales his cigarette again and breathes out the smoke. 

“This town seems quaint.” You finally answer. “The locals are nice, the expenses aren’t that much, and the scenery is alluring.”

You use your cigarette again and use your other sweatpants pocket to fish out your portable cassette player along with your headphones. You then realize that you had forgotten your music tape at your house. You sigh and then put it back into your pocket. Footsteps get your attention and you see the stranger approaching the shoreline. He bends down and picks up a small rock. He throws it to the sea and it bounces; one, two, three, four.

It then sinks beneath the waves, and the man mutters something under his breath. “Should have been more.”

You take a few steps towards him.

“What is your name?”

“Sebaste.” His tone isn’t warm, but it’s not cold either.

You stare at each other for a few moments in awkward silence. Your tone is just as strange as his as you say, “My name is [First]. A pleasure to meet you.” You place your lit cigarette on the pier and stomp on it until it goes out. “Have you lived here your whole life?”

He nods. “Yeah.”

“Do you live with a family member?” You’re not sure where this question came from, but you are for sure more interested in him than you realize. He turns his back to you.

“Yeah.”

You look out into the deep and dark sea.

“I don’t have any family here.”

“Mmhmm.”

His voice is slightly dismissive, but you don’t think he means to be.

“It must be nice, having people you can rely on.”

He looks at you again, but you cannot tell what he feels.

You don’t look at each other after that. You look down at the items that line the beach instead. Even though they are indeed damaged, they feel more like treasures than whatever expensive gifts Chrollo gave you.

There are mostly large shells that are still vibrant despite it being nighttime as well as being covered in sand. They look like fragments of a broken rainbow when the moon’s light reflects in just the right areas. You have contemplated bringing one home and stringing it into a necklace. 

Sebaste takes his cigarette out of his mouth and points out to the ocean. There is no sound aside from the waves and occasional seagull calls. His two fingers trace the stars beyond the horizon. 

He says there is a constellation called the Hydra. According to Sebaste, during summer, the season of rebirth and peace, the Hydra constellation appears as a reminder of assured death to those below it, whatever arrogance mortals may have had disappearing in an instant. Their fates loom over them like the blade of a guillotine, knowing their hearts shall stop working eventually, the color of crimson fading like flowers in autumn. Memento mori, you suppose.

“You sure know a lot about nature.” You say.

“It’s interesting, but it’s not what I mainly like learning about.” He throws another stone into the sea. One, two, three, four, five. He throws his cigarette out into the ocean and watches the flame die out. “I’m mostly just coding on my desktop. That,” He lightly chuckles. “And playing games. Video games and board games, as well as comics. They are fun.”

You don’t know anything about those either, even more so than nature. “That’s nice. I… don’t know anything about those. They seem cool, though.”

He chuckles at that. You do too.

He turns to you and takes a few steps forward.

He says that that seemed sort of obvious considering how upright your posture is, and how polite you speak. He offers to play games with you sometime and lend you comics. He walks you to your house and says a warm goodbye.

Although the certainness of seeing each other again is unknown, this fleeting encounter holds a remarkable significance, because you don’t feel as alone as you usually do.

You don’t feel alone. It is a strange feeling.

*~*~*~*

You wanted to watch Sleeping Beauty.

“Beautiful.”

Chrollo wanted to watch The Nutcracker.

“Just beautiful.”

The dancers’ feet move with grace and precision as the orchestra plays. Green, yellow, and pink dancers. You let Chrollo have his way with which performance tickets to buy because you didn’t want to fight and lose all of your progress.

“Don’t you think so, dearest?”

You look from your compact mirror to him, your lipstick still in hand.

“Yes.”

Chrollo seems to be smiling, but you cannot tell because of how dark the theater is. It’s a miracle you can see your lips in your compact mirror.

“I spot something even more beautiful, however.”

You almost want to shudder as his hand reaches the one carrying your mirror. He closes the reflector gently. You are thankful for how dark the theater is now because it hides whatever lovesick expression he is wearing. He is the one paying attention to the ballet, while you daydream of being anywhere else.

There is a light chuckle. A light squeeze. A light whisper of a compliment you pretend to listen to. 

“So beautiful.”

…

“Thank you for taking me.”

It’s Christmas Eve. A fur coat covers you and keeps you warm. It is snowing, and the sight makes you slightly less nervous. 

You and Chrollo are walking out of the theater. Hand in hand. As much as you want to break away. Your captor soon opens the car door, and you sit down.

He goes to the driver’s side and sits down too.

The car soon drives away onto the salted road. 

“I had fun.” You try your best to smile. “I did.” You look out the window to the snow-covered, dead trees, as well as the reflection of your red dress and white coat.

Chrollo grins as he turns the steering wheel left. After a few moments, the car stops. “Wait here for a moment. I will be back in a few minutes.”

With that, he steps out of the car and leaves the key with you to make sure the alarm does not go off. 

He makes sure you lock the doors before walking away.

You don’t dare go sit on the driver’s side. You don’t dare touch the steering wheel or press on the gas.

You just sit with your thoughts until he eventually returns, and you unlock the car.

“I have something for you,” His voice is almost cooing, but is laced with honey. There is a large box in his hands.

He extends his arms out and you take it. He sits back down and closes the car door. 

“Open it,” He croons. You pull on the tied ribbon until the knot is undone. You take off the box’s lid. Macarons. Colorful macarons, all spread apart within the box just enough for people to see their fillings. Green, yellow, pink. But there are also a few white ones in the center with red filling. 

You thank him and he tells you the flavors. The green ones are pistachio, symbolizing good fortune in the years ahead. The yellow ones are champagne, symbolizing joy and celebration. The pink ones are flavored strawberry, symbolizing life. 

There is a nefarious twinkle in his eyes as he points to the white ones. The cookies are vanilla with a cherry filling. 

They symbolize renewal and love.

He says that the macarons illustrate your relationship well.

You agree, because what else is there to say?

*~*~*~*

Sebaste invited you to a summer night on the shoreline. He said there was something special going on tonight. 

Most of the townspeople are by the fisherman’s shop, overlooking the pier. They bring lanterns and are huddled together in their sweaters. Knowing Sebaste, he has probably gone somewhere more remote on the beach.

You are right. He is sitting on a picnic blanket with a few takeout boxes of food. He welcomes you with a grin as you sit down with him. There is sashimi, cheese-covered cauliflower, and fried calamari.

There is something behind him. But you don’t ask about it.

Sebaste is a rebellious loner, from what you have come to know from both the townspeople and himself.

He hardly has anyone over because of how judgmental his stepfather can be. He often fights with his stepfather and half-sister, and as a result, was forced to live in the basement as per his mother’s wishes to not cause any more problems. He loves his mother, he does, you can tell. She seems to love him too.

His room is often full of takeout boxes and used cigarettes, as well as video and board games and his desktop. The couch in his room always has comics and food stains on it. But you sit on it anyway to wait for him to finish his work before talking to you about whatever interest he currently is fixated on.

You sit on the picnic blanket and face the shoreline, your dirndl moving slightly with the wind. Your boots are covered in sand, but they are the only ones you have that will keep you warm while keeping the sand out of the inside of them. It’s just you, Sebaste, and the ocean.

Sebaste isn’t smoking for once, and neither are you.

You both agreed to focus on the ocean instead.

Sebaste gets a bit closer by scooting over. He is smiling gently, a smile you know hardly anyone else has seen. He takes a rock and throws it into the water, making it skip. One, two, three, four, five, six. He cheers quietly at his accomplishment, and you do too.

He looks at you.

He looks at your left hand that rests beside his right one. He moves just a hair closer. He clears his throat when you make eye contact. His pale cheeks are a slight pink.

“I…” he starts as his face turns away from you. His voice is a bit jittery. “I think I like you. Romantically.”

Does he mean it? His body language is slightly tense and his shoulders are uptight. His left hand comes out from hiding behind his back as he shows you a bouquet. There are blue thistles, purple sweet peas, and orange poppies.

He waits for a response as he turns to you again, visibly nervous.

*~*~*~*

You continue to try to pull away, but your efforts are unsuccessful.

Chrollo seems somewhat amused at your struggles, though he still doesn't force you to stop moving against his grasp.

"You're acting in a very ungrateful manner, my dear. I've given you this beautiful home and life that you couldn't even dream of on your own. You should be happy and thankful for what you've been given, not trying to escape from it. This is what love is. You are too young and immature to understand that, it seems."

"Love? Do you call this love? You're insane! Let me go!" Your eyes fill with tears as you try to pull away, and your voice breaks as you speak. "You're insane! You're insane and sick and disgusting! You're... you're..."

Chrollo still doesn't force you to stop trying to escape, and he doesn't raise his voice or grow angrier at your words. He just waits patiently.

"Monster... Disgusting... Sick freak... Monster..." Your voice is shaky as you continue to speak, and your eyes are filled with tears. "How can you justify this? What was wrong with my life before you? Why did you have to destroy everything? Why do you enjoy hurting me?" You yell and cry out, still trying to pull away, even though you don't seem to be hurting him.

Chrollo, once again, doesn't seem to be bothered by your words. As the alarm goes off, signaling your time out of restraints, he turns it off and drags you to the bedroom once again. Something tells you that you won’t be sleeping much tonight, less so than usual.

*~*~*~*

“Ah. I… like you too.”

“Really?”

You give him a genuine smile as you nod. “Yes.”

He smiles at that as his posture becomes more relaxed. You take the bouquet from him and set it beside your small backpack. Sebaste seems unsure for a second, most likely thinking that you have misunderstood his question. He thinks for a second or two as his face becomes laced with slight worry. You smile again as you take his hand gently. His face becomes bright red and you chuckle at the sight. He does too, but quieter.

His fingers then intertwine with yours.

He doesn’t smell of cigarettes like he normally does. You assume he put on cologne. Refreshing, sweet, and crisp. Pine cologne, with a hint of citrus. 

He bashfully giggles a bit more. He puts his free hand on the back of his neck.

“Does… this mean we are… dating now? Or is this just a fling or…”

Your grip on his hand tightens slightly. You both seem giddy. This is the first time either of you has felt this way. You seem to have sparked something in each other.

“If you want to, we can start dating.”

“Oh? You… actually like me?”

He seems confused or doubtful as to why you feel the way you do for him.

“Yes, I do. I like you. Would you like me to enumerate the reasons why?”

He looks unsure of it all like you will stab him in his back at any moment.

“You’re kind to those who are kind back. You’re willing to do anything for those you trust. When you trust, you trust wholeheartedly. You have interesting hobbies.”

Sebaste chuckles again. “So, beating you within six turns of Go Fish and collecting frogs covered in mud is interesting to you, huh?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever met someone as unique as you. I mean that most positively and genuinely. Well, what do you like about me then? I’m curious.”

“Everything about you. The way you walk and talk, your hobbies, the way you present yourself. Everything about you is just so alluring and admirable. You are everything I am not.”

“I suppose we always love what we cannot have ourselves. Opposites attract, after all.”

He nods. 

The ocean starts to glow a bright blue. You look at it confused, with one of your eyebrows raised.

Sebaste giggles once more at your lack of knowledge of what is happening. “Every year, right before summer ends, jellyfish rise to the surface of the shore and glimmer.”

You’re too awed at the sight to put it into words. “Thank you for inviting me, I didn’t know about it. It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah. Beautiful.” He looks at you instead of the ocean.

*~*~*~*

You take a deep breath. You’ve come to pay what’s owed.

You knock on the door and wait for a response. After a moment, you hear footsteps approaching the door.

It opens and James is standing there. When he recognizes you, his face turns into one of triumph.

“Hmm, so you have come. Just like you promised,” he says to you in a voice a mix of arrogance and gratefulness.

“Yes. The… night you wanted.”

James’ expression changes to a wide grin. “I knew you wouldn’t let me down,” He says to you with a chuckle, stepping aside to let you into his apartment. “Come in, come in.”

He steps aside and motions for you to enter, closing the door behind you. It is for the greater good, you tell yourself. To get information out of James, you need to make him believe that you are interested in him.

James is very happy that you kept your word. He’s smiling widely.

“Come in, I told you that I would host a special evening for you,” He says to you, sounding sincere and eager to please. He takes your hand and leads you inside the apartment. “I have a surprise for you,” He says to you, leading you deeper into the apartment.

You have to play the part of the seductress to the best of your ability.

“What is it?”

The usual city apartment, it looks like. Messy and full of mildew from the floor to the ceiling. By the only non-musty window there is a plastic up on the ground with drops of water coming down into it from the ceiling. Drip, drip, drip. You can only hear the drips of water and you and James’ footsteps. You cannot feel your true emotions, because you have a job to do.

James brings you to the only lit room in the apartment; the dining area. The circular table seems to be made of poplar and has a dark stain in the center of it. There is a vase of dark red roses on the top, clearly just bought. The chair you sit in is squeaky and is also made of poplar. James is staring at you. You can only hear the dripping of water, the squeakiness of the chair, the broken air conditioner, and James’ chuckles. Drip, drip, drip. James is still smiling, and staring like you are a piece of meat. You suppose you are, at least to him and at least at the moment. You smell cigarette smoke and spoiled food. You lean down to smell the roses, but you cannot smell them because the foul stink of the rest of the apartment is so much stronger. You pretend to anyway, a pleased hum leaving your painted lips. His eyes are wide and unblinking. Another chuckle, and another drip, drip, drip. His smile widens even more as he looks at you.

“Close your eyes,” He says to you in a soft, commanding tone. “I have a surprise for you,” He adds. “I want it to be a surprise. Keep your eyes closed.” He pauses for a moment, waiting for you to close your eyes.

You cover your eyes with your hands. 

“That’s good, that’s good,” James’ smug voice says. “Just wait one minute.”

You hear his footsteps on the creaky floorboards quieting, making you assume he has gone elsewhere. You hear a cupboard opening and closing along with glasses clinking. 

“Now, remove your hands from your eyes,” James says.

You do as you’re told and remove your hands from your eyes. James smiles at you, revealing the surprise that he had promised. On the table in front of you are two wine glasses and a bottle of expensive red wine. Cabernet. "This is my special surprise for you," He says to you, still sounding sincere and excited. James pours both of you a glass of wine and places one of them in front of you. He then raises his glass and holds it up in your direction. He smiles at you charmingly and says, "To you, [First]. And to your beauty."

You smile at James and cheer with him, raising your glass and taking a sip of the expensive red wine that he's poured for you.

James smiles at you, still looking charming and sincere. "Tell me," He says to you, "What do you think of the wine?" He takes a sip himself, smiling as he savors the taste. "I always buy the best when I entertain a guest as lovely as yourself," He says to you with a wink.

“It’s good. But… I feel like it won’t compare to you.” You wink back at him.

James smiles and takes another sip of the expensive red wine that he's poured for you. He seems to like your subtle flirtation, as if it's having the desired effect. "Oh, don't worry," He says to you with a charming smile. "I've been looking forward to this night all night. You're just as wonderful and beautiful as I remember," He adds. "I can hardly wait to spend some time alone with you."

James takes another sip of the wine and continues to stare at you, still smiling.

“Am I as beautiful as you say?” You blink your long lashes at James, your eyes gazing into his with a gentle but seductive expression. Your hair is loose, gently framing your face, and you look ravishing.

"Of course," James says to you with a smile as he gazes back at you. He reaches out a hand and gently strokes a streak of your hair, letting it fall back into place after it has been gently moved by the gesture. "You're the most lovely woman I've ever seen," He says to you confidently.

“What do you like about me?”

"Every inch of you," James replies, still stroking your hair with a smile on his face. "From your eyes to your long lashes, your hair, your skin..." James pauses, looking into your eyes for a moment. "To your soft lips, your small, delicate hands," He adds, still stroking your hair lightly. He looks at you with a charming and passionate gaze, as if he can't get enough of your beauty.

“...Would you like me to kiss you? It would be our first.”

James looks delighted by your proposition and nods slowly, in response. He finishes stroking your hair with one last, gentle touch and gazes at you once more. "Of course," He murmurs, his voice softer and more passionate than before. He pauses for a moment before taking the initiative and leaning forward to kiss you slowly and softly. His lips press gently against yours, and he holds you close as he pulls you into a gentle, intimate kiss.

Drip, drip, drip.

It’s for the greater good, right?

You kiss back and return James' affection, feeling the heat of passion slowly build as the two of you kiss. You hold him close and slowly pull him towards you. The kiss is soft and tender, and although it is a rather chaste kiss, it leaves you breathless and feeling dizzy. After a few moments, you both come up for air to breathe, and James looks at you with a warm and sincere smile. 

"You're a wonderful kisser," He says to you softly. "I've always imagined it would be like this..."

At any cost, the greater good must come first.

“Should we take this to the bedroom?”

"Yes," James replies with a nod. "Let's go to the bedroom," He adds. "I can't wait to be alone with you." He takes your hand in his and leads you out of the dining area and into a small bedroom. You enter the bedroom and see a large, comfortable bed in the center of the room, with the moon shining through the window. James closes the door behind you and leads you closer to the bed.

You sit on the bed and open your arms. “I’m ready whenever you are.”

James smiles at you and steps towards you slowly. He takes off his jacket and throws it on a chair next to the door. He then comes closer to you and smiles, leaning forward to kiss you passionately. His arms are wrapped around you, and his body is pressed against yours. He begins to kiss you deeply and passionately, his lips lingering on yours for long moments.

James continues to kiss you, and as he does so, his hands begin to explore your body. He lets his fingers run down your arms, leaving soft, tender trails of affection on your skin. As his lips move to your neck, he begins to bite it softly. He starts to explore and taste every inch of your skin, leaving small marks of affection. You feel a jolt of passion and desire course through your body as you feel James' lips pressed against your neck and his teeth lightly biting you. As he continues to kiss and nibble your neck, he begins to breathe more heavily.

You pretend to groan and moan as James continues to kiss and nibble your neck. You lean your head back and close your eyes, trying to appear lost in pleasure. You feel his lips move down your neck, leaving little, soft bruises of passion. You let out another soft moan as he continued to kiss your neck, nibbling your skin and letting his teeth leave marks of affection.

"Do you like that?" He whispers to you, his voice deep and passionate. "More?" He asks, sounding breathless and eager.

Drip, drip, drip.

“More.”

James chuckles softly before moving his lips back down towards your neck once again. He bites your neck and kisses it again, this time leaving more marks of affection. You pretend to moan in pleasure once again, feeling James' breath against your neck.

"How does that feel, dear?" His voice is low and seductive. "More?" He asks gently, biting your neck once again.

“I want you to touch me all over.”

James pauses for a moment, his green eyes looking at you with a charming and seductive expression. He smiles at you, and you notice his eyes are filled with desire. "I want to touch you also," He says to you softly. His hand gently touches your cheek and strokes your hair. "Please, let me explore you," He whispers seductively. He moves towards you and gently pulls you towards him, kissing you softly before moving his hands towards your body.

As you feel James' hands start to take off your clothes, you begin to feel some of the passion and desire that James had shown before fade away. But as James continues to take off your clothes, you start to feel the heat of passion and excitement come back.

James seems intent on savoring and enjoying every moment of this moment with you, every moment of intimacy and passion. He slowly undresses you, taking off each piece of your clothing, as if you were the most precious and beautiful thing in the world. His touch is gentle, and his eyes are filled with desire.

Drip, drip, drip.

“Touch me, touch me everywhere, for your lips worship me.”

James pauses as he hears you speaking. He gazes at you for a moment, his face filled with a mix of passion and desire, as your words have left a deep impression on him.

"Oh, my love," He says to you softly. "My lips worship you," He adds, leaning forward to kiss you again.

His hands begin to run over your body, caressing you in all the right places. His fingers trace soft arcs over your skin, leaving trails of affection and passion wherever they go.

…

You find yourself standing in the middle of a large and eerie graveyard. The sky above you is dark and cloudy, with little sunlight filtering through the clouds. You take out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, lighting up a cigarette and taking a few puffs. As you lean against a gravestone, you see a figure standing in the corner of the graveyard, just watching you. You can't quite make out who it is, the figure looks like a shadowy silhouette, but you can see the orange glow of a cigarette in their hand as well.

It’s James.

As you take another puff from your cigarette, you see James stepping closer to you, his figure now becoming slightly more visible in the dim light. 

"Hello, [First]," He says quietly, the tone of his voice hinting at a slight twinge of concern for you. He takes a drag from his cigarette, his expression still difficult to make out in the shadowy light. "How are you feeling?" He asks, looking at you with a sense of curiosity in his voice.

“I see you kept your word.”

"Of course," James says, taking a soft puff from his cigarette. "I promised you, didn't I? I'm not one to go back on my word."

You notice James looking at your cigarette, seemingly a bit tempted by it.

"Can I have a puff?" He asks, looking at you with a tiny hint of a hopeful expression on his face. "I've been craving another cigarette for a while now."

James quickly steps forward, seemingly going in for a kiss, but you quickly duck out of the way and move away from him. He stops in his tracks, not wanting to make any sudden movements or startle you. However, he still looks at you with a tinge of frustration and disappointment on his face.

"You don't want to do anything with me, do you?" He asks as the light from his cigarette illuminates his expression for a moment. "Am I just not good enough for you, is that it?" He adds.

You keep your attention on your cigarette, ignoring James' frustrated expression and question as you take another puff. After a few moments of complete silence, James finally breaks the silence once again. 

"I knew you were like this," He says, his voice filled with resentment and anger. "I've always known you were like this," He adds, moving closer to you once again. "And yet, I still fell for you like an idiot." He pauses for a moment and takes a drag from his cigarette. "You're just... so damn tempting," He adds.

“...Hmm. It’s my specialty.” 

"Yeah, yeah, I know," James says, seeming slightly irritated. He takes another puff from his cigarette, the orange glow on it making his eyes seem brighter than usual in the dark. "You know, that was the reason I was attracted to you in the first place." He adds, his tone becoming a bit quieter. "Your specialty of seducing men... and women." This time, there was a subtle twinge of sadness in his voice. "You're just too damn gorgeous to resist, I guess." He adds.

“...It has its benefits. I don’t hate you, just so you know.”

It seems like James still hasn't given up in his attempts to kiss you, despite your repeated refusal earlier. He moves in towards you once again and leans in close to your face, his expression becoming a bit more excited and hopeful. That's when you see his gaze locked in on your lips, and you realize his next move before he even makes it. You quickly duck away from him, moving out of the way just in time to avoid his lips.

"I told you, stop." You say firmly, not wanting to give him another chance to kiss you. “It was a one-night stand. That’s all it was, and… it was for my matters.”

"Yeah, yeah, I know," James sighs, his tone becoming somewhat frustrated once again. He takes another drag from his cigarette, the light from it illuminating his face for a moment as he looks straight at you. "It was just a one-night stand," He echoes, seemingly to himself. "But... for some reason." He pauses for a moment and looks at you with slight confusion. "I still have feelings for you," He finally says. "Even though I know it's stupid to feel this way..." He adds quietly.

“It was just something I had to do.”

James seems to pause for a moment as your words sink in.

"What?" He asks, seeming slightly confused. "Do you mean... you had to sleep with me as part of an investigation or something?" He asks. "Or were you not attracted to me?" He adds. "You felt like you had to sleep with me, even though you didn't want to?" He stops for a moment to take a few more puffs from his cigarette, the light from it glowing orange in the dark. "Is that... what are you saying?" He asks.

You take a soft puff from your cigarette as James continues to look at you with a slightly frustrated expression on his face.

"I want the truth, [First]." He says, sounding more serious this time. "I want to know why you slept with me..." He takes a final puff from his cigarette before looking at you once again. "Was it because you were attracted to me? Or was it because you felt like you needed to sleep with me for some other reason?" He asks, his tone becoming a bit quieter again.

“...I suspected you of something.”

"A suspect, huh?" James says, sounding only slightly confused. "So this was all part of some elaborate plan to figure out who I was?" He pauses for a moment as he thinks about your words, taking another drag from his cigarette before speaking up again. "Was... Was I really that suspicious, [First]?" He asks. He seems slightly hurt by your words but still manages to hold on to his composure as he looks at you with a bit of apprehension.

“...You were. You drove me five hours to that seaside town without a second thought, even though your guard shift at that hotel had just ended. I had to know if you had other motives… aside from sleeping with me.”

"I guess that makes sense," James says quietly. "So, that's why you decided to sleep with me..." He adds, taking another drag from his cigarette before speaking once again. "Is that it?" He says, his tone sounding slightly less annoyed now. "You just wanted to gather information on me, and nothing else?" He asks. "Did you like, not enjoy your time with me in the slightest?" He adds with a tiny hint of disappointment.

You take a deep puff from your cigarette, the smoke rising upwards into the air before mixing with the gloomy clouds floating above. You can see James looking at you with a bit of disappointment on his face, but you just keep silent.

After a few moments of quiet contemplation, James finally speaks again.

"So, that's it, huh?" He says quietly, his tone becoming somewhat resigned. "You just... slept with me for information and nothing else." He takes another drag from his cigarette, the orange glow from the tip illuminating his face in the darkness.

“...That’s correct.”

"So... you don't like me?" He asks, turning to you with a hint of sadness in his eyes. "It was just... part of the job?" He adds. He takes another puff from his cigarette, his eyes moving back to looking at the clouds above. "Is there nothing else you like about me?" He asks softly, turning to you once again. "Not even a little bit?" You can see James' expression change, his heart is affected by your words. "Please don't be silent again," He adds quietly.

“…You aren’t useful to me anymore, so from this point forward you will not see me again.”

"Not useful to you, huh?" He says softly, sounding a bit hurt by your words. "So... now that you got what you needed, you're just gonna toss me out like a piece of trash?" He asks with a tinge of bitterness in his voice. "What happened to the [First] I thought I knew?" He says, sounding slightly frustrated. "Don't you feel at least a little bit bad?" He adds. "Even a tiny bit?" He takes another small puff from his cigarette before looking at you again with mild concern.

You start to lean away from him before he suddenly grabs you and pulls you towards him, the two of you now face to face. James then places his hand behind the back of your head and leans forward, trying to kiss you once again. Before you can get out of his grasp, he kisses you forcefully, pressing his lips against yours for a few moments as he tries to make you kiss back. Once James is done, he lets go of you, his expression still filled with passion and determination.

"Well?" He asks, sounding a little annoyed. "Where's your response?"

“...You know,” You throw your cigarette to the ground and step on it roughly, making a loud footfall noise as you squish it against the cobblestone. “I was going to let you go on with your life as I found no ties to the Spider.” Your hands go into your trench coat pocket. “But now you have forced my hand. Most unfortunate.”

James takes a moment to process what you had just said. “W… What?” He looks confused and panicked. “What do you mean by that?”

You display a smile, yet it lacks any semblance of kindness. 

“The Phantom Troupe? You’re… a part of the Phantom Troupe?” The man takes a few steps back in fear, a stark contrast to how he was just a few moments ago.

“No.” You say firmly. You hear James sigh in relief. 

“Thank God.”

“But,” You add, taking a few steps closer and still having that grin. “I promise you that soon, you will realize what I mean. Very soon, indeed.”

James laughs loudly and arrogantly like a crow’s caw. “You’re going to kill me?” He takes a few steps closer as well and crosses his arms, smirking. “Sweetheart, I don’t think you can even touch me.”

“Never say never.” With a smile on your face, you glance back while making your way towards the graveyard's exit. 

James angrily yells at you to come back, but you don’t listen and soon you are gone.

He better prepare himself for death while he still can.

…

You broke into James’ neighbor’s apartment.

Victor, you found out later, was his name. Not that it mattered much. He was reading a book, Crime and Punishment, on his couch and facing away from the entrance. He didn’t have any instinctual gut feelings that someone was in his home, standing above him with a blindfold, ropes, and a scarf. He had good taste in books, at least.

“Greetings,” You bend down to the slumped man, weeping with his hands and legs tied, his tears wetting the white blindfold. “I have a favor to ask of you. Then I shall let you go, alright?”

Your voice is soft, and gentle, like a mother speaking to her crying toddler. Like a Venus fly trap, your jaws will soon lower onto your unsuspecting prey. Tender fingers snake around the back of the stranger’s head and untie the gag. A shushing sound leaves your lips as a finger lays on them for a second or two. You roll on your ankles backward and stand up. You tell him that if everything goes well, he can leave. He simply nods, giving up right away.

Your hands go into your trench coat pockets for a second, worshiping the fur that lines them along with your forged ID card, portable cassette player, and flip phone. It is just to make sure they are there in your jacket and not left out as evidence of the performance about to happen. The guests of honor are James and Victor, and they will never know it.

Drip, drip, drip. Through the thin walls, you can hear the usual drops of water coming from James’ ceiling to the container he probably has there. Drip, drip, drip.

“I just need you to say a few words.”

Your demand is sturdy, not taking no for an answer. 

You open up a window and a gentle breeze flows in, making your braid sway from side to side. After a few moments of silence, Victor says that he will do anything if it means he can leave afterward. The floorboards are creaky and splintered and damaged from all of the feet, wheels, and canes that move on and off them. 

“Repeat after me.”

You look down on him like a God. He is nothing more than a dog.

James deserves this. That’s what you tell yourself. James deserves this. James deserves this for being scum and only seeing you as a possession. He deserves this. He deserves what you are about to do.

The sun is rising behind you. You bear resemblance to a masterpiece crafted with the utmost precision and the most vibrant pigments. Your arrival is akin to that of a deity. Drip, drip, drip.

You take your hands out of your pockets.

“Say the name James Ericsson. Please.”

Your stare is vivid, and even with the blindfold on you know that Victor has sensed its intensity because he says. “James Ericsson.”

You smile and your hands dance with one another in a sort of waltz.

There are cries of pain and the sound of bones bending like plastic straws coming from next door.

Victor falls to the ground, not breathing. It is done.

…

The photos were shown on the news, late at night to prevent younger children from seeing them.

There was nothing left of James' upper half.

There was a huge gaping hole in his skull where the brain burst out. The face was completely gone, caving in on itself. As his body was crushed by the invisible pressure, his chest and arms were ripped apart, the muscles and organs ripping out and sticking to the walls, and the larger pieces of meat slipped down with copious amounts of blood, accumulating on the poplar table adorned with dead roses and a shattered glass vase that had been broken. The rest of his stomach spilled out onto the floor beneath the table he had been standing next to. 

Victor was found dead at his apartment. There were no signs of a break and is presumed to have died of a heart attack or stroke. You were careful to attach and remove the blindfold, gag, and restraints so that no bruises or marks formed. 

It is somewhat regrettable, but there was no other way. You know that. It was for the greater good.

Right?

There was no other way, right?

You know that there was no other way, right?

Because there was no other way, right?

They had to die for the greater good, right?

Right?

…Right?

You ride one bus after another back to town with something inside you telling you that this is wrong. James’ screams, his snapping bones, the way his muscle and fat separated like he was a slain cow being cut into pieces by a butcher. Victor’s begging to be set free, and the way that he trusted that you would let him go after he did what you wanted. All of this is wrong, a little voice in the back of your mind says to you.

This isn’t a crime. It isn’t.

The rest of your brain tells you that.

It was a necessary evil. James deserved it, he deserved every ounce of pain you had inflicted on him through the thin apartment walls. You can imagine hearing the dripping of blood from the formerly white now red ceiling.

Drip, drip, drip.

…

You eat at your poplar dining table, alone, in a squeaky old poplar chair. You have only managed to take a bite or two of your food before feeling the urge to vomit. You drank half of your cup of water though, at least. You would have preferred bleach or soap, though. Something basic.

That way your insides would be scrubbed clean by the mix of enzymes, organs, bacteria, and a strong base. Your skin, eyes, and hair would be cleansed with the sweat and tears produced afterward. You pick up your spaghetti with your plastic fork.

Your stomach churns and it feels like it is eating itself. You run to the bathroom, overcome by nausea. An acidic smell and taste. They are both sour and nasty. 

You gag like you are being choked by a ghost or your guilty conscience. You are loudly gasping for air through your vomit-covered lips. 

Drip, drip, drip.

Plop, plop, plop.

Bile piles up in the toilet water, making it bright yellow. You hold onto the toilet seat like it is your lifeline. After a few more moments of heaving, you adjust your posture to be more straight.

You walk back to the kitchen and put the dinner food in your refrigerator. It hums as if it is pleased with how you are feeling. 

Drip, drip, drip.

There is some water leaking from the faucet. You put a cup under it and try to ignore what it reminds you of. You hope it goes away soon. You do. More than anything. 

You want it to go away, and you would do anything to make it stop. But you’re not a plumber, and the only nearest one is in a neighboring town a few hundred kilometers away and his fees are worth a few thousand Jenny. Even if he was nearer, you wouldn’t be able to afford his services. Most unfortunate for you.

You still feel like you are being strangled. 

Your neck’s muscles tighten and the tendons are sticking out. You aren’t going to die, but it feels like it. Everything hurts. Everything hurts and you are disgusted with yourself. But you have to keep going, for eternal freedom. 

Your skin is covered in goosebumps.

You want to vomit your organs out.

You want to scream until your vocal cords swell so much they cannot work. 

You want to swallow and cover yourself in bleach and soap and scrub yourself until your skin is rubbed raw and bleeding.

But you can’t, because you are living in a town now, one where the neighbors are so friendly and everyone knows each other. But you can’t, because someone will come to you, worried sick about you. But you can’t, because you are too appalled in yourself right now to lie to them and pretend you are better than them.

You cannot pretend you are cordial and graceful, because if anything you are sick. Sick and twisted. Your secrets mirror your repulsiveness. You want to lean away from yourself and run from yourself. 

But you can vomit your organs out.

But you can scream until your vocal cords swell so much they cannot work. 

But you can swallow and cover yourself in bleach and soap and scrub yourself until your skin is rubbed raw and bleeding.

That’s because this house is nearly impossible to find for most. Only the porch light is currently on, with the rest of the place in complete darkness. There are overgrown weeds and grass, trees, and fallen branches everywhere. You have tripped many times and almost broken something in the past. You are getting better, though.

This property can be the place where you bury whatever sins you have committed. No one comes here, and no one will come for you if you scream. No one will hear you because this property is cramped and large. 

But you are still living in a town full of people who all know each other.

What if someone hears you?

It is best not to think about it, you tell yourself.

It is best to just let it all out, you tell yourself.

It is best to ignore and lie to those who ask you about it, you tell yourself.

So you vomit again.

You scream so loudly you lose your voice.

You scrub your hands so hard under the sink with soap until they bleed and have scratches all over them.

No one comes for you.

Good.

*~*~*~*

You have always been someone who never takes the time to appreciate the beauty around you.

Your thoughts are constantly besieged by a multitude of voices. Unloving, taking pleasure in others' misfortune, outrage, fear, happiness, delicateness, peacefulness, besiege, schadenfreude, wherewithal. In due time, emotions will reach their boiling point, unveiling the authentic hues of your being; crimson red.

You can make people prefer you over the largest of diamonds with just a few words. Your words can be either their exposition or their denouement. 

But you can’t bring yourself to use Sebaste. This feeling is odd to you, but you don’t complain about it. If anything, you feel warmer than you ever have been.

Your emotions find themselves trapped in a state of indecision, teetering between self-centeredness and pure joy. Something has gone off course. You.

You, who was born with an innate desire to only help those who would help you in exchange. You, who never ventured out to explore the depths of your being, to discover the essence of empathy. You, who have always used others in an attempt to better humanity as a whole, to be in control of others. It is what you do best; being in control.

So, why does Sebaste, an impoverished man, interest you so much? Why would you be willing to give everything you have away just to make sure he has a good life? Why can’t you just leech off of him like you do with everyone else?

It cannot be denied that he holds the position of your greatest vulnerability.

But you cannot bear to discard him.

Even if you wanted to. Even if he wanted you to.

You cannot leave him. He holds your heart in his gentle hands, and you will never get it back. There it will stay far past when his body is deep underground and lost to time.

You would jump into the largest crimson tides if it meant he was waiting for you beneath the waves. In the end, the amalgamation of your emotions will birth a monstrous force, unleashing nothing but devastation.

A colossus. 

The devil that lurks within the deepest confines of your heart.

No exorcism or priest would be able to get rid of it. It will stay inside you until your last breath. Sebaste will eventually uncover the hidden transgressions within your soul, the deeds you committed to survive. The actions you took to elevate yourself above all others and everything else in this world.

In the future, when the stars twinkle no more, the moon loses its luster, and the night sky breaks apart, you will need to seek a new refuge to conceal your wrongdoings from the scorching beams of the sun.

If Sebaste ever were to discover the lies that are the foundation of the makeup used to cover your hideous, real face, or your sticky, sticky, crimson hands, what would be done to stop you? What would you do to stop him from leaving you?

You simply confine the devil into the smallest crevice of your heart, pushing it inside as far as it can go and locking the door. That way, if Sebaste ever were to delve into the labyrinth that is your soul, he wouldn’t find it no matter how much he looks. There the devil will stay even far after it starts rotting, and you promise yourself to keep it that way.

*~*~*~*

The flowers are in bloom. You don’t know what species they are though. The night sky is above you, cold, injured, and bleeding you. Your only physical weapon is your nails, your dull and split nails. 

It starts raining. You don’t have a home of your own, so you decide that a bus stop will suffice for now.

Every inch of you is shivering. Every drop of blood that you bleed hurts. The forest is deep and dark and cruel. If any animals were unaware of your presence, they surely are now considering how you howled in pain as your leg toppled into a bear trap, and howled even louder as you clawed it off with your bare hands, making them all scratched up. The cicadas are crying, even louder than you are. They only respond to your pain with shrill, grating noises and the flaps of their wings. You have nowhere to go that is nearby. Not with your injured leg that has large, deep, painful markings of the trap’s teeth on it. Aside from this bus stop that is in the middle of nowhere. You’re not sure if any bus at all is even on this route anymore, considering how rusty and broken down this stop is. 

You attempt to light one of the few matches you have left. It’s pitch black outside, and the match is your only source of light and warmth from the rain and the night. Your jacket is still caught in that tree, far away from where you currently are. Well, it wasn’t yours per se, but it was your only protection from the elements with its hood and heat. 

Your cries are wasted on your injuries. You know no one will come for you, aside from predators if you bleed out and are near death.

You cannot see anything, even the path of blood drops you most likely made as you gripped your injured leg and began moving once more to the poorly taken care of bus stop, ignoring the pain that shot up with every step. It’s too dark.

You aren’t going to die, but it feels like it.

Even if Chrollo knew where you were and was on the way, it wouldn’t matter. This forest is too big and you may die of blood loss before he even catches sight of you or hears your pained cries.

There are most likely predators here. Wolves, bears, hawks. Something is out there, watching you, you are sure of it. You know it. 

Eventually, the rain stops sometime after your match goes out and you close your eyes after refusing to rest for far too long. You catch a glimpse of the flowers, soaked with morning dewdrops and reflecting the sun’s rays. 

Ah.

Columbines. 

The usual white ones are called doves for a reason. They look like five doves nestled together from afar. The white columbines represent many things. Love. Innocence. Calmness. Peace. Foolishness. Winning. Ironic enough, you cannot relate to any of them.

You’re not in love with anyone. Your innocence was stolen from you long ago, far before you even met Chrollo. You aren’t calm, you are weeping. You aren’t at peace, you are internally fighting yourself as to whether to go back to your captor’s gilded cage. Perhaps you are a fool for running away from the warm blankets and fresh, expensive food. You aren’t winning anything aside from both regrets and desperate want for stability.

Maybe that is why these columbines before you are red. An eye-catching crimson red, as red as your wounds and the trail of blood left from it as you walked to the bus stop. They look like dead doves. They only represent three things. Passion. Terror. Trembling. You find a resemblance of yourself in them, as odd as it would sound to anyone who doesn’t know of or believe your current situation. 

The trap didn’t have rust on it, right?

*~*~*~*

Chrollo and Sebaste are both difficult to understand for you. However, they also could not be more different. This dynamic is similar to a newborn witnessing dawn’s sunrise blossom from the night sky. Both confuse you, for both are very similar yet very contrasting. 

Chrollo and Sebaste both know what they want and they would do anything to achieve it, as long as the people they love aren’t in any danger at the reward of attaining their desires. They only trust a handful of people fully while they ignore other people’s presence. They both have that dark brown hue in their eyes. They both wear darker colors. But Chrollo holds the past in high regard and loves history, meanwhile, Sebaste thinks of the future and modern times more so than the past and as a result keeps up with new technology and media. Chrollo looks at you like a hunter looks at a doe or rabbit, while Sebaste looks at you with purpose, for he knows who you are; an equal.

You look at them differently, too. 

You look at Chrollo with a facade in your eyes, as you pretend to accept your role in his theater by dancing the waltz and singing praises.

You look at Sebaste with veracity, for he is the only one to have ever earned your genuine admiration. 

If either were to see the cracks within the mask you wear if either of them saw what was underneath… it would all be over, wouldn’t it? Chrollo would know more about you than you ever did about yourself and use it against you. Sebaste would leave you all alone to rot away.

That is why you will play the role of a doting queen who hangs onto every word her lover tells her because it is the only choice you have.

It is the only choice you have, and all you ever can be.

It is all you ever will be, you say to yourself.

#yandere chrollo #yandere chrollo x reader #chrollo x reader #yandere chrollo lucilfer #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere hxh #yandere hxh x reader #yandere x reader #yandere #hxh #chrollo lucilfer #hxh chrollo #chrollo hunter x hunter #hunter x hunter #phantom troupe #chrollo lucilfer x reader #hier encore. #ultraviolet. #author aya

[dazed-and-confused23]

Dear Hearts and Gentle People 18

Summary: Cooper comforts you after the two of you leave Vault 3. There isn't anything he can do to take your memories of that place away, but he sure as hell could try.

Pairings: The Ghoul | Cooper Howard x Female Reader

Warnings: Not many? Hurt/Comfort. Cooper does his best. Drug use and sexual assault are mentioned. Lots of cuddles and crying.

Masterlist

You don't remember how you got out of the Vault, and you don't care to recall how either. You lay in bed in your room at the Atomic Wrangler for three days, recovering from the copious amount of chems that the fiends have shoved into your system. Julie Farkus had told Cooper that she was lucky to be alive and that most women didn't have someone that could save them like he had for you.

Cooper had grit his teeth, lips pulled in a nasty sneer, and told the good doctor that it'd almost been too late, but he was just glad that Julie could help him. Today was the first time that you felt up to more than just sleeping, and the ghoul made sure to be by your side. You sat up, back pressed against the wall, and played with the plate of food in your lap.

"You gonna eat, smoothskin?" He asks and shifts his weight in the stool beside your bed. Cooper's been here for the better part of those three days, only leaving for necessary reasons and never for long. The bounty hunter is dressed down, only his jeans and button-up and boots, and you finally look at him.

You clear your throat, lips pulled in a harsh frown. "Yeah, I will."

Cooper doesn't like the tone you use and sits forward, elbows on his knees, and he stares you down, "Do I need to feed you?"

You scoff at the vauge threat and pierce a piece of steak before popping the morsel in your mouth and slowly chew it. You eye Cooper then swallow, "Happy?"

The ghoul narrows his amber eyes, "Not yet."

He watches your lips purse and look away from him, shoulders slumping and hands going limp. He doesn't expect to see tears growing in your eyes or to watch the way you fold into yourself, lips trembling as a broken apology spills from between your lips.

Cooper rises and takes the plate away from you, setting it to the side so that he can crawl into the bed with you. He sits against the headboard and pulls you back so that you rest between his legs against his chest. You don't bother fighting against him and simply cry a little harder when his hands rub soothing motions across your back.

"Wanna talk about it yet?" Cooper offers quietly. You've not said shit to him about your time in Vault 3. He understood the big picture when he'd arrived down there. His smoothskin had been treated worse than a fucking dog, drugged up and left to wallow in your own filth.

You shake your head. You don't understand how Cooper even wants to touch you right now. You feel disgusting, and the phantom feel of the fiends' hands still haunt you at every second of the day. You want another shower, but hot water was a precious commodity.

"Stop apologizing," Cooper rumbles after a moment, and you snap your mouth shut, unaware that you'd just said everything out loud. His arms tighten around you, and you bask in the strength of the hard planes of his body.

"Nothing those bastards did to you could make me love you any less."

His words only make you sob harder, but you can't help but feel relief at them. Your ghoul loved you and had taken on an entire vault of chem addled cannibals to save you. He had come out on top and dragged your sorry body all the way back to Freeside, snarling and demanding help from the followers.

"Thank you," you say, and press yourself as close to Cooper as you can. You never want to let go, and you never want to see the inside of a vault ever again.

"You're mine, Darlin', "Cooper rumbles and tightens his hold on you, "And nothin' will ever stop me from comin' for you."

*sorry if this one is a little lackluster. I had some trouble with it. ❤️*

#cooper howard #fallout #fallout prime #fallout tv series #cooper howard x reader #x reader #the ghoul x reader #dear hears and gentle people

[avocado-writing]

Kinktober 2

2. Frottage, Sexual Frustration, Virginity

notes: this fic has mentions of reader being female presenting!

You’re at a ball.

You do like balls, to be fair, they’re an excuse for you to dress up nicely and wave a fan in front of your face and look demure. You like talking about the mad king and speculating what’s next for the monarchy. You like dancing. You like spending the night with your boys.

Except when they’re being like this.

“Someone will see,” you whisper, but in a way which suggests you don’t really care that much. The three of you have absconded to a small cloak room, just away from the main dancing, and they have pressed you ever so deliciously between them. 

“You want us to stop?” Crowley whispers in your ear. No. That would be torture. You whine and shake your head, so they keep going. 

They have your dress up around your waist, their cocks freed from their breeches. Crowley has his pressed against the cleft of your arse and Aziraphale is fucking the crease where your thigh meets your groin. They are both breathing hot and heavy in your ear, one of them rubbing between your legs until you keen - you’re not sure which but, judging by the width of their fingers, it’s the angel. 

“Shh,” Aziraphale whispers, capturing your lips with a kiss so you moan into his mouth, “I’m sure you would rather not have anyone hear us, would you, nightingale?”

“No. But I might need something to keep my tongue occupied,” you suggest, wickedly. Crowley growls in the back of his throat and tears a glove off with his teeth before pressing his fingers into your mouth. You begin to suck wantonly - fellating them as you might with other parts of his anatomy. He begins to whisper a long drabble of praise into your ear - how good you are for them, now naughty. You feel your sex respond and Aziraphale huffs. 

“Oh god, oh god,” you moan around Crowley as your orgasm crescendos and you feel it dripping down your legs. Your lovers aren’t far behind. Crowley cums on the small of your back, letting his spend drip onto your plush cheeks, and Aziraphale releases on the small of your stomach, the tops of your thighs.

“Mr Crowley? Mr Fell?”

The three of you freeze. Your lovers stop still, Crowley’s fingers still gagging you. The person searching you out calls your name and the three of you exchange a look.

You suck Crowley’s fingers. Hard. He almost yelps, and you feel his spent cock twitch against your arse.

“Jane?” another voice calls, further away.

“Hmm?”

“Where are you, my dear?”

“I was just looking for our guests of honour. I could have sworn… oh, no matter. I shall be right with you!” 

Receding footsteps. The three of you let out a sigh, collapsing into each other a bit. Your dress is dropped, covering up the sinful mess you’ve been marked with.

“I could clean you up if you like, my darling,” Aziraphale whispers, kissing you lovingly. You shake your head with a grin.

“No. I like feeling the two of you on me. Besides, there’s something rather dangerous about dancing a quadrille while I feel you both streak down my legs.”

You grin and whip your fan out. Yes. You can act very demure when the time calls for it. Doesn't mean that you are, though.

@bootlmoth @elleofdragons  @angelic-anarchy27 @yeethaw13 @candlewitch-cryptic @kwyn-q @rat-that-writes @buryustogether @letthenightingalessingagain @ltlthetrifecta @angiestopit @purplefrog1sblog @wereallbrokenangels @angelspathway @clarina04 @belilwen @chaospossum @eightsdoctor @oo-delallymrcrow @silcosmoke @climbingivy97 @live-logs-and-proper @project-sad @just-a-beatlemaniac69 @imagination-phantom @anonymously35 @corgis04 @peytonpenguin37 @catlynharper @unabashedgentlemenpirate @wolfe-houler @darktealrat @mxxny-lupin @willbedecided @detectiveapparatiagreen @shadowluna25 @kaylinelizabeth4004 @xquinn-bartonx @blue-bell22 @foolishprincipalitee @fandomawesomeness @eweweweewewe @latersgaters-steven @llamaproblem @night-affiliate @randompost18 @hunterispunk @jessica-laufeysdottir @uxcaran @bunnymallowo @jae-michael

#avo's kt 23 #aziraphale x reader x crowley #crowley x reader x aziraphale #fic: the light the dark and the spaces inbetween

[odyssean-flower]

The Winding Path of Fate Chapter 12 - Summer: Photos

Masterpost

Pairing: Neuvillette x Female Reader Summary: The date has ended successfully, but it also brought about an unexpected turn of events

Warnings: None except for the fact that this story is 50% written based on vibes Note: This chapter isn't beta'd so sorry in advance for any typos or rough edges Note 2: If you want to be on the taglist for this fic, please make a reply to this post, send a message or send a private ask

Have a pic of Neuvillette enjoying some tea

Previous | Next

“My dear Iudex, are my eyes deceiving me, or is that a smile on your face?”  

Neuvillette raised his gaze from the documents spread out before him. Furina was standing on the other side of his desk. Of course, he had heard her enter his office before she even spoke, but he was so used to her unannounced intrusions these days that he treated it as a part of his daily routine now. I only hope that she makes this quick. I have a rather heavy agenda today, and I would like to return home before dark.  

Furina leaned over his desk, her heterochromatic eyes eagerly scanning the desk for some sort of incriminating evidence to grab onto. Of course, she found none. Neuvillette wasn’t so foolish that he would make such a careless mistake.   

“Hmph, I didn’t know that paperwork could inspire such a joyous expression on one’s face. What a contrast you make with the Gestionnaires outside your door! You really must get out more.”  

“My dear Iudex, are my eyes deceiving me, or is that a smile on your face?” 

Neuvillette raised his gaze from the documents spread out before him. Furina was standing on the other side of his desk. Of course, he had heard her enter his office before she even spoke, but he was so used to her unannounced intrusions these days that he treated it as a part of his daily routine now. I only hope that she makes this quick. I have a rather heavy agenda today, and I would like to return home before dark. 

Furina leaned over his desk, her heterochromatic eyes eagerly scanning the desk for some sort of incriminating evidence to grab onto. Of course, she found none. Neuvillette wasn’t so foolish that he would make such a careless mistake.  

“Hmph, I didn’t know that paperwork could inspire such a joyous expression on one’s face. What a contrast you make with the Gestionnaires outside your door! You really must get out more.” 

“Indeed, I have, thanks to your urging. I believe you’ve already read the note I left you.” 

“Ah, yes, that sorry excuse for a note,” Furina sniffed. “‘Will be away for a day due to personal reasons.’ No mention of where you’re going or who you’ll be with.” 

“I see no reason why I should have included either of those things. I followed all the necessary protocol for requesting leave, as I’m sure you’re aware.” 

“Oh, I am. I’m overjoyed to hear that you’ve been picking up new hobbies lately. It must be the influence of your new wife. If only you’d allow me to meet this remarkable woman so I can thank her.” 

“New hobbies? Whatever do you mean?” Neuvillette ignored that last part. 

“Why, your new hobby of photography, of course!” Furina propped her head on her hands, affecting an air of nonchalance, but her eyes gleamed like a cat that had a tantalizing mouse set in its sights. It was a look that Neuvillette was all too familiar with. “I’ve heard whispers that you’ve sent off a large number of photos to be developed, and that you’ve gone on a recent shopping spree for photo albums. Your day-off seems to have been very fulfilling.” 

“It was, indeed,” Neuvillette nodded. His face gave nothing away. This was also not a surprise and was in fact well within his expectations. He had felt the gaze of Furina’s spies more frequently as of late, but it was not a difficulty for him to evade them. The one who developed the photos for him was a trusted agent of the Marechausee Phantom, and the envelope which contained the finished products (which he had fortunately received well before Furina’s intrusion into his office) hadn’t been tampered with.  

“Oh, I know it was. A boat ride on the sea, huh? How romantic! I didn’t know you had it in you, Neuvillette. All those romance novels I’ve supplied you with seem to have paid off. Oh, if only there had been someone there that day to take a commemorative photo of such an astonishing sight, the Iudex taking a human out on a date!” 

Neuvillette went very still. “Get to the point,” he said, his voice cold. 

Furina’s grin widened. The cat was getting ready to pounce. “It just so happens that a subordinate of mine was out at sea on the very same day that you were out and saw that astonishing sight for himself,” she took out a photo from her pocket and slapped it onto his desk. It was a clear picture of him helping his wife off the boat after they returned to the docks at the Court of Fontaine.  

Neuvillette’s blood ran cold. How could this have happened? 

“Not the most fashionable, is she?” Furina peered at the photo. “I don’t recognize her, so she must not come from a very important family, either. But putting that aside, what a charming couple the two of you make! Honestly, Neuvillette, I do wonder how--” 

"Leave my office. Now.” Neuvillette’s palms slammed against his desk as he rose to his full height, causing Furina to back up a few steps despite herself. He felt an absurd urge to cover the photo with his hands, to protect the image of you from the scrutinizing gaze of an outsider. “You've seen her face now. Be satisfied with that and resign yourself to the fact that you will never meet her.” 

A startled expression appeared on Furina’s face before it was quickly replaced with a smug smile. 

“My, my, Neuvillette,” she purred before plopping herself down on the couch next to his desk and crossing her legs. “I would reconsider, if I were you.” 

"Have I not told you to leave—” 

“Now that I know what your wife looks like, it’ll take very little effort on my part to find out who she is soon enough. My network of informants is extensive, as I know you’re aware. But I’m a magnanimous god, so I shall give you a week to think it over. If you won’t allow me to meet your wife by that time, then I’ll have to take matters into my own hands and find her myself.” 

“You wouldn’t dare. I had expected better of you.” 

“Oh, don’t give me that!” Furina suddenly stood up and marched over to his desk. “You’re the one who won’t agree to a simple meeting! I’d expect you to be more grateful, considering how I’m the one who pushed you to get married! If it weren’t for me, you would never have even thought of approaching this woman, who you clearly care for a great deal, and you’d probably spend the next five hundred years continuing to mope about on your own, never knowing what you could have had!” 

There was a long, tense silence after her rant. “Are you finished here?” Neuvillette said, struggling to suppress the violent tempest of emotions swirling inside his heart. 

“I suppose I am,” Furina stood up. “By the way, Neuvillette, you should be thankful that it was a subordinate of mine who took this photo and gave it directly to me, and not someone from those third-rate tabloids you despise so much. I’d love to see you ignore that scandal away.” 

Neuvillette said nothing, simply glaring at her. His hands were curled into fists at his sides. 

“See you in a week, my dear Iudex. Do pass on my regards to your wife.” 

After saying that, Furina spun around and strode towards the door. It was only after the door closed behind her firmly that Neuvillette leaned back in his chair and let out a long sigh. 

Torrential rain beat against the large window behind him. He wanted to walk into it, to wade into the sea. 

I was too negligent, he cursed himself in his head. I should have been more careful. 

Throughout his long career, he had become adept at evading reporters and paparazzi. And yet, somehow, this happened.  

Anger and fear gripped his heart. He didn’t care what the papers said about him. But the thought of you becoming fodder for them was intolerable. 

The sight of your tear-filled eyes had been like daggers to his heart. He never wanted to see them again. 

He took a sip of water (imported from the frozen rivers of Snezhnaya) to cool his head and gazed at the painting hanging near his desk. By a fortunate twist of fate, you hadn’t signed it. However, its usual calming efficacy was diminished today. 

Neuvillette had wanted to look at the photos again during his break, but now he was too on edge to even think of opening his desk drawer and taking the envelope out. It felt like just the act of it would be exposing its contents to danger, even though he knew that was irrational.  

He could sense the clouds covering the sun outside the window behind him. There would be a downpour on this fine evening, and he silently apologized to the people of Fontaine, and especially to a certain young lady who was doubtless in the garden right about now. 

The sooner I finish my work, the sooner I can return home, he thought, in a vain attempt to calm himself. And give the photos to her. I know she has been waiting for them eagerly. I’m sure she’ll be overjoyed… 

Unconsciously, his feet began tapping against the floor. 

This can still be salvaged, he told himself. Nothing has happened yet. I’ll do whatever it takes to protect her peace. 

Switching back into work mode, Neuvillette sat up once more—and let out a pained grunt. His hair had gotten caught in the cracks of his chair. 

“Where is this rain coming from? It was clear just a few minutes ago,” you grumbled as you stared up at the lead-colored sky. It had been a beautiful day like it had been for weeks, but for some reason, the clouds decided to unleash their water just as you had finished taking the daily sunflower measurements. 

I bet Neuvillette is enjoying this, you thought as you went to stand under the eaves. It hasn’t rained in quite a while. 

“Madame, it’s raining,” Marie opened the porch door. “You didn’t get wet, did you?” 

“Just a little bit, but it’s nothing too bad. Marie, could you fetch me my umbrella?” 

“You’re still planning to garden in this weather, Madame?” 

“I just want to take one last look. I’ll be done soon.” 

After Marie gave you your umbrella, you marched back out to the plot of sunflowers again. 

The sunflowers were coming along nicely. They now reached the height of your hip and formed small, tightly closed buds. There were no yellow petals peeking through yet, but you were confident that they would appear in the coming weeks. 

You brushed your fingers against the leaves. They were the size of your palm now. You could see little bug bites dotting them. Perhaps you should ask Marie if there were any pesticides on hand. 

It was the evening hours now, though the sun had been in the sky until a few moments ago. Neuvillette should be back by now. Maybe he had a lot of work today? You couldn’t help but feel a sting of disappointment. You had been looking forward to showing him the buds.  

It had been a week since the date. Neuvillette had sent the photos out to be developed, and you would be getting them today. You were a bit excited to see them.  I don’t think I’ve ever taken so many pictures in my life. 

After you finished taking the last measurements, you returned to the house and went up to your room. Your eyes automatically went to the plump azure flower tucked into a vase on your desk. It brought a vibrant splash of color to your elegant but sparse room, and you liked looking at it. It gave you a sense of pleasure. You wondered where Neuvillette put his flower. 

I wonder if it would deflate like a balloon if I stuck a pin into the middle, you thought as you sniffed the flower’s cool fragrance. That would make it easier to press, wouldn’t it? 

Perhaps it was because you talked about pressing flowers on the date, but it had been on your mind lately. Your fingers itched for your old flower press, sitting in your closet back home. The lily would look striking against a white page. If only you picked some of those wildflowers you had seen on Erinnyes and in Merusea Village... they could serve as accompaniment to the lily, which would obviously be the centerpiece, and a strand of blue leaves from the Weeping Willow could be the finishing touch, forming a wreath that framed everything neatly. It would be a beautiful memento of one of the most magical days in your life. 

We picnicked together and took pictures of each other; he showed me all sorts of sights…he even held me in his arms…and I cried in front of him… Gah… 

You resisted the urge to bury your face in your hands. The memories of what you said and done still mortified you a week later. It had been even worse when you got home and was left alone in your bedroom. How you got to sleep that night, you didn’t know.  

You would rather take a dive into the sea than cry in front of people, especially someone like Neuvillette. But on the other hand, if you had to cry, you would rather it be in front of him. Not your parents, not even your sister, but him. You weren’t sure why. 

Neuvillette hadn’t said anything comforting or encouraging, and his hug was honestly a bit stiff and awkward, like he wasn’t used to doing such things. And yet, you felt as though the weight on your shoulders had been lightened just a bit. It wasn’t until then that you realized how you were barely holding yourself up by sheer force of will, like a sunflower with shallow roots and a too-heavy head, on the verge of falling over without a support.  

Neuvillette never brought up that moment again, for which you were grateful. Although, even now you still couldn’t really look at him without a tingling sensation in your heart. He, on the other hand, seemed unchanged. Well, of course he would be. It would be problematic if he did start treating me differently, you told yourself. 

You knew very well that you were not the type of person who people like Neuvillette would think of as a romantic partner, much less a wife. But still, after what you had observed of him and what you heard from the Melusines, you thought that it’d be nice if he did have someone like that. After the divorce, Furina would no doubt start pestering him even harder to find a spouse. It would be smart for him to start finding someone soon. He would probably have to wait a bit before remarrying, though. 

Neuvillette should definitely find someone who’s more of a romantic than me, you laughed at yourself. 

Unfortunately, you were out of your depth when it came to matters of matchmaking. But still, maybe you could keep an eye out for a potential partner. What was Neuvillette’s type, anyways? That would make for an interesting topic to investigate. 

You decided to put this thought aside for now. Neuvillette told you that he wanted to take you to a restaurant next time. You had no idea where he would take you. His taste in food was so peculiar, after all. But you were sure that it would be a high-class, excellent restaurant, wherever it was. You would have to get some suitable clothes for the occasion. I want to make a better effort next time. 

Neuvillette had given you a quite frankly exorbitant amount of spending money. Maybe it was finally time to use it.  

Perhaps it’s a bit pointless…but I still want to do it. 

You sat in your window seat, daydreaming about how your second “date” with Neuvillette would go as you gazed at the setting sun, now peeking out of the clouds after the sudden spell of rain had passed. 

Neuvillette finally returned home by the time the sky was dark. You had already eaten dinner without him and was reading in the parlor when you heard the front door open.  

“Neuvillette,” you called out to him as you went into the foyer. “You came home so late. Did something happen?” 

As you approached him, you noticed how tired and tense he looked. But the fatigue in his face seemed to vanish as he fixed his eyes on you, replaced by something that was almost like relief. 

“Madame,” he greeted you. “My apologies for worrying you. I had a rather busy day. I hope you’ve already eaten dinner?” 

“I have. But have you eaten? If not, I can warm up the leftovers for you, or I can ask Marie to cook something fresh if that’s what you prefer.” 

“I’ve already eaten, but thank you for the consideration. Have you gone out today?” 

“No,” you shook your head, and Neuvillette visibly relaxed. You definitely didn’t imagine that.  

But before any suspicions could form, he spoke again.  

“Madame, I have a surprise for you,” he took a pause there. It took you a moment to realize that he was doing it for dramatic effect. So even he has that side to him...how cute, you thought, trying to hide your smile. “I received the developed photos today.” 

He took out an envelope from his coat pocket and handed it to you. “They turned out quite well, I must say,” he added. 

The envelope was thick and heavy. You must have taken more than a hundred photos.  

You decided to look through them in the parlor. Neuvillette followed you, and the two of you sat side by side on the couch as you spread the photos out on the coffee table. He was right, they did turn out well. You had been a bit worried that they might come out blurry or at odd angles, but overall, they all looked pretty good, considering the fact that you hadn’t used a Kamera in a long time. 

“You have a very good eye for photography, Madame,” Neuvillette remarked as he picked up a photo of the Weeping Willow. “Have you considered pursuing a career in that field?” 

“Oh, not at all. My old drawing teacher was much better at it than me, enough to make a living out of it, and she taught me a few tricks.” 

“‘Was’? Do you mean...” Neuvillette trailed off.  

“Yes. It was a few years ago.” 

“Ah...I see. I'm sorry to hear that.” 

There was a brief, awkward silence. Neuvillette looked as though he wanted to say something more. You would rather not deal with that, so your eyes roamed around the scattered photos on the table until they landed on something silver. “Oh, my pictures of you!” you said, leaning forward to grab them. “See, what did I tell you, Neuvillette. There’s nothing more picturesque than beautiful scenery and a handsome man.” 

Neuvillette leaned closer towards you to examine the photos for himself. His hair brushed against your shoulder, and you could feel the heat of his body against your arm.  A thought suddenly struck you. If you turned your head right now, your lips would brush against his cheek in the same spot where you had kissed it before. 

Inexplicably, your face turned warm at the thought. The back of your hand tingled. 

Perhaps things didn’t quite remain the same after the date. 

It truly had been a spur of the moment move. Your roiling emotions, aided by the instigation of the Melusines, had pushed you to do it.  

Later that night, as you laid in bed, your mind replaying that scene over and over to an infuriating degree, you had rifled through all the emotions you had felt at that time. Embarrassment, disbelief, a strange sort of elation… 

But the one emotion that had been missing no matter how hard you searched for it, was regret. 

Overt acts of affection had never been your forte, but it seemed like the right thing to do at the time. 

Well, cheek kisses don’t inherently mean anything significant, you had told yourself. Friends do it with each other all the time. And Neuvillette is my friend. A very dear friend. So it’s perfectly fine. Case closed. 

Indeed, Neuvillette didn’t seem to look at you or treat you any differently after the fact, so why should you? No doubt he was used to receiving such acts of intimacy—most likely even more intimate—from people who were far more glamorous than you. A brief brush of lips against his cheek probably meant nothing to him.  

As for the hand kiss, well, that was something that gentlemen like him did. It also didn’t mean anything. It couldn’t. 

The thought that these kisses were all meaningless did sting a little bit, but considering the circumstances, you had no right to complain.  

“I must confess that I do not see what makes these pictures any better than the ones you took of the scenery,” Neuvillette’s voice interrupted your thoughts. His eyes were fixed on the photo, so thankfully he didn’t notice your reddened cheeks. “Or of the Melusines, for that matter.” 

“Well, even if you don’t appreciate them, I do. I’ll treat them like a family treasure.” 

“A family treasure? That’s a bit excessive, is it not?” 

“I don’t think so. These are pretty rare items, aren’t they?” 

Since Neuvillette didn’t appear in public much, there were not many pictures of him outside of the rare interview and official events. Hmm, I wonder how much they’ll sell for? Not that I would ever do that, of course. …Well, maybe if I’m in dire financial straits. I’ll ask for Neuvillette’s permission beforehand if it ever comes to that. 

You went through the remaining photos. Each one sparked a memory. The Weeping Willow, the sea, Merusea Village underwater—you really had been to all those places. With Neuvillette, no less. The entirety of that day was only known to the two of you.  

The days after your date had been so mundane and normal that you were half-convinced that it had all been a strange dream. Thoughts and memories were such mutable things, after all. Someone like you on a date with the Chief Justice? Not even in your wildest delusions would something like that ever happen. But these pictures were proof that it did.  

You knew that you would probably think back on that day for the rest of your life, holding it close to your chest like a treasured gemstone and taking it out whenever times got tough. A sparkling memory of your youth that you would smile back fondly upon in your autumn years, a lone glimmering star in the dark that would inspire you move forward… 

Wait, why am I getting so sappy and sentimental? Just because of a date? Ugh, come on now. 

You glanced at Neuvillette, who was currently enjoying a glass of water (imported from Inazuma). You doubted that he felt the same way as you about the date. It was probably just like a drop of water in a vast ocean to him. 

That thought pricked at you, but you chose to ignore it.  

You sifted through the pictures until you came across a certain snapshot. Just as you were about to flip it over, a gloved finger pressed down against the photo, stopping you. 

“This one is my favorite,” Neuvillette said. Once again, his face was right next to yours, but you couldn’t read his expression.  

“Because you were the one who took it?” 

“No,” he said, then turned his head towards you. “Because it’s of you.” 

“Neuvillette…” you said after a short silence. You fidgeted with your reddened fingertips. “I don’t understand how you can say things like that with such a straight face.” 

“Is it truly so strange?” Neuvillette looked perplexed. “I was simply saying my true feelings. And it is not as though you have refrained from such comments either.” 

“You do have a point,” you conceded, although that still didn’t mean it didn’t catch you off guard. You turned your attention back to the photo of you. To be honest, it didn’t turn out half bad. Sure, you looked incredibly stiff and awkward and your hair was a mess and you had no idea what you were thinking when you matched that sweater with that skirt, but…it could have turned out worse.  

“May I keep this photo?” Neuvillette asked. 

“Of course, but what will you do with it? Surely you aren’t going to put it on your office desk or anything, right?” 

“No, of course not. I would put it in a drawer, so I may take it out and look at it whenever I like.” 

“Why would you want to do that?” 

“Is it so wrong for a husband to want to look at a picture of his wife every once in a while? Many of the Palais staff also keep pictures of their loved ones on their desks. Why shouldn’t I?” Neuvillette paused for a little bit before adding, “And it would be one way for me to see your face more often, considering how I don’t get many chances of that during the day.” 

“Hmm…very well, then,” you didn’t quite get why he would want to see more of your face, but if it made him happy, then you supposed there was nothing to complain about. Neuvillette is actually quite good at this kind of thing, you thought to yourself. Just imagine what he would be like when he gets married to someone he loves. 

Now you really felt bad about your (hypothetical) future plans about selling Neuvillette’s photos. I’m an insensitive boor compared to him. 

You reached the last of the photos. It was the one of you and Neuvillette standing in front of the sunset. 

“You made two copies for the both of us,” you said as you looked at them. “How thoughtful.” 

As you gazed at the pictures, you couldn’t help but feel a complex mixture of emotions. There was a surrealness to this photo that the others lacked. If this were a novel, this would be the point where you would wake up and return to reality after discovering something out of place in your life. No matter how you looked at it, you and Neuvillette were mismatched. Two people who were only brought together because of a weird quirk of fate.  

But on the other hand…it was a beautiful photo. You had been somewhat worried that the two of you wouldn’t be centered in the frame, but it turned out well. The sunset made for a lovely backdrop. Even though both of you were looking very stiff, and neither of you were smiling.  

You remembered that moment clearly. In those few minutes, you felt as light as a feather, like there was nothing tying you to the ground. 

Would you ever feel that way again?  

“I’m also very fond of this one,” Neuvillette said next to you. When you turned your head, you saw that he was not looking at the photos, but at you. It was then that you realized you were smiling. For some reason, you turned your head away.  

“I just realized something,” you said, to cover up the awkward moment. “I’ve taken so many pictures, but I’ve got nowhere to put them all.” 

“Ah, about that,” there was an excitement, subdued but present, in his voice. He sounded the same as he did when he introduced you to some new exotic variety of water. “I have a surprise for you. Please, come with me to my study.” 

A surprise from Neuvillette? You had an inkling as to what it could be, but that didn’t stop you from putting all the photos back in the envelope and following him upstairs to his study, a domain you had yet to step into. It was a smaller version of his office at the Palais Mermonia, with its large desk, soft rugs, and tall bookshelves that lined the walls. There was also a fireplace here and a cozy-looking couch. 

As Neuvillette went to take something out of a cabinet, you covertly examined the shelves. They were mainly filled with books on law, human psychology, history (most of which you’ve already read, having borrowed them from the library), and other similarly serious topics. Oddly enough, you even spotted a few romance novels. They were the fluffy, self-indulgent kind that your mother and sister liked to read. Should I pretend I never saw them? 

“Madame, here it is,” Neuvillette said, and you walked over to the desk, where there was a large, leather-bound album with metal corners. 

“Oh, Neuvillette, you shouldn’t have!” you exclaimed, flipping through the album. There should be just enough space to put all the pictures from your date in it. You looked up to thank him, but was met with the sight of Neuvillette taking out yet another album from the cabinet. This one was wider, with a ribbon tied into a neat bow on the spine. Perhaps Neuvillette bought a second album, just in case the first one wouldn’t fit all your pictures? 

But, as though to dash all reasonable explanations, Neuvillette took out another album from the cabinet, then another. It seemed never-ending, this deluge of albums. After a while, it became sort of funny, like a comedy sketch. You watched, open-mouthed, as the desk became covered with albums of all shapes and sizes.  

Finally, after the tenth one, the deluge stopped. Neuvillette looked at you expectantly. “Well, Madame, which one do you prefer?” 

“Wait a minute, let me get this right,” you said, backing up a step and surveying the desk. “You bought all these albums just for me to choose one?” 

“Yes, I did,” Neuvillette said, nodding as though this was a perfectly normal thing to do. Was this how the minds of the wealthy worked? It was beyond your comprehension. “I was unsure which one would be most to your liking, so I decided to buy them all.” 

“Oh, Neuvillette, you really shouldn’t have…” you said. “This is too excessive. Why didn’t you ask me to come with you when you went shopping? And you know I’d like anything you picked out for me.” 

“I wanted it to be a surprise…” Neuvillette said. He looked a bit deflated, and you felt bad.  

“Can you return them?” 

“It would be highly inconvenient for the shopkeeper if I did so,” Neuvillette said, then added in an abashed tone, “And I was told that all sales are final.” 

“How unfortunate,” you looked down at the desk again. Was it possible for anyone to fill up all these albums in their lifetime? Maybe if they had a lifespan as long as Neuvillette’s. “Maybe they could make an exception for the Iudex?” 

“I would rather not use my position in such a manner.” 

“Well then, how about we give them away?” 

“Give them away…” Neuvillette considered your words. “I-I suppose that could work… it is a reasonable idea. Yes, quite reasonable indeed.” 

Neuvillette…if only you could see the look on your face right now. He looked like a kicked puppy. However, you decided to hold your tongue. 

“Hmm, on second thought, it would be quite rude of me to give away presents from my generous husband,” you said. “I’ll keep them all. Thank you, Neuvillette.” 

You patted his hand. He looked down at your hand on top of his, his eyes unreadable. He lightly brushed his fingers against your own.  

“You need not force yourself to accept them if you do not want them,” he said quietly.  

“But I do want them. They’re from you, after all. We’ll just have to take plenty more photos to get your money’s worth.” 

“‘We?’” 

“Yes, ‘we.’ Did you expect me to fill up these albums all on my own?” 

“Certainly, it would be more efficient if we worked together,” Neuvillette nodded to himself. “Very well, then, Madame. I will assist you in this endeavour.”  

With that settled, you decided to put the date photos in the first brown leather album. It had a vintage look to it that you liked. 

“It’s getting late, Madame. You should be going to bed soon,” Neuvillette informed you.  

“What about you?” Neuvillette didn’t seem to be making any moves to retire for the night just yet. 

“There are a few more matters that I need to take care of, but do not worry, it won’t take very long.” 

“Okay then,” you nodded, stepping towards the door. But just as you were about to leave the study, you thought of something. “By the way, Neuvillette, when will we be going on that restaurant date? I know you’re quite busy these days, so I can wait as long it takes. Do you have a restaurant in mind? I’m perfectly happy to go with any one you choose. Oh, and I know I promised to attend a trial, but I’m not fond of the very loud and chaotic ones, so which of the upcoming ones would you recommend?” 

“I’m afraid, Madame, that we have to put a hold on both of those arrangements. A few…unexpected matters have come up, so we will not be able to go anywhere together for a while.” 

“Oh. I see. Well, I suppose it can’t be helped,” a sharp sense of disappointment pierced your heart. It seemed that you had been looking forward to it more than you expected.  

“Madame, are you enjoying your life as it is right now?” Neuvillette asked you out of the blue. 

“Huh? What brought this on all of a sudden?” 

“Please answer my question.” There was an undercurrent of urgency in his voice.  

“I…” you had to think about it for a moment. “I do. Of course I do. I never want for anything, and everyone has treated me with nothing but kindness. I can’t even begin to repay them all, really.” 

“I see. Then, is this the sort of life you’d prefer to live?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“A quiet, peaceful life, where you are never bothered by anyone.” 

“I…suppose so? I think most people would want that.” 

“I see…” Neuvillette stared at his desk, seemingly deep in thought. Then, he looked up at you. “You should go to bed now. It is getting too late.” 

“What…” but he was already ushering you towards the door before you could say anything more. 

You observed him as he stood in the doorway. He was an unreadable cipher, but you sensed a resolve emanating from him, like he had made up his mind about something.  

“Good night, Madame,” he said quietly.  

“Good night, Neuvillette.” 

You felt like you had to say something, but you weren’t sure what.  

He saved you the effort by gently closing the study door on you. The sense of giddiness had all but completely dissipated. You felt like a deflated balloon. 

Your unease wasn’t dispelled the next morning.  

At the breakfast table, Neuvillette was reading the newspapers. This wasn’t unusual in itself. It was part of his morning routine. What was unusual was how intensely he was looking through them.  

You looked at the headlines of the paper he was reading. There was nothing there that would warrant that deep furrow in his brow. At least, not to your knowledge. Perhaps there was some sort of secret investigation going on?  

“Madame, would you like to read the paper?” Neuvillette’s voice broke through your thoughts. It was then that you realized that you had been leaning forward and squinting your eyes to read the newspaper print. “I’m nearly done with it.” 

“Oh, no, I was just wondering if something happened, since you seem to be engrossed in them.” 

“No,” Neuvillette took a pause before replying. “I was simply looking for something.” 

“I see,” you said, then cut a piece of pancake and popped it into your mouth. After swallowing, you continued, “Is it work related?” 

“I…would not say so,” Neuvillette said. It was strange for him to be so evasive, but maybe it was one of those things he wasn’t at liberty to tell you.  

“By the way, Neuvillette, I’m going to start on the albums today. You’ve given me a great burden to carry, but I’m willing to take it on.” 

You were teasing him a bit, but in truth, you were a bit excited. Your teacher had a whole shelf of albums that were filled with photos from her travels throughout Teyvat, and you had pleasant memories of flipping through them and asking her the stories behind each photo. Of course, you wouldn’t be able to replicate her on that scale, but the Court of Fontaine was as good a start as any. You had even thought up a sort of system as to which area you would cover each day and what you would photograph, which you explained to Neuvillette. 

“You plan on going out into the city today, Madame?” Neuvillette asked after you finished speaking. He put down the papers and stared at you. 

“Er, yes?” you answered hesitantly. He seemed strangely preoccupied with your answer. “Is there something wrong with that?” 

“…No, not at all,” Neuvillette said after another pause. His lips were pressed together in a thin line. “Where do you plan to go?” 

“Just the plaza…” you said, raising your eyebrows at how grave he sounded. “And maybe the Palais.” 

“Do not go to the Palais,” Neuvillette spoke abruptly. His face was all seriousness. “Please, promise me that. If you have any business there, ask me. I will assist you with it.” 

You stared at him, wide-eyed. “What do you mean, I can’t go to the Palais? Did I do something wrong?”  

“No, of course not,” he said quickly.  

“Then why can’t I go there?” 

“I cannot tell you, but I assure you that I only have your safety and happiness in mind when I am asking you to not to go anywhere near the Palais. Please, Madame, promise me this.” 

You stared into his violet eyes, trying to gauge what he was thinking. There was a note of desperate urgency in his voice you had only heard once before, not to mention the weightiness of his words. “I promise,” you found yourself saying. 

“Thank you, Madame,” Neuvillette was visibly relieved. His shoulders relaxed and he closed his eyes for a second before opening them again.  

“Neuvillette, what’s going on?” you demanded. “You’re acting strange. Did something happen?” 

“Do not worry. I will take care of everything,” he said, not answering your questions at all. He stood up, and you did the same, intending on getting to the bottom of this.  

The two of you headed to the door. “You’re hiding something,” you said, glaring up at him. He met your gaze, then looked away. “It has something to do with me, doesn’t it?” 

“I’ll take care of it. Please don’t worry,” he repeated, then attempted a smile. “Focus on your photography project. I cannot to wait to see the finished product. And…Madame, if you see any suspicious persons lingering around you, you must tell one of the Melusines right away.” 

“Huh?” you gape at him, but he simply bid you goodbye and left the house. You watched him get into the carriage and set off.  

For such a stoic man, he’s actually quite terrible at hiding his feelings at times, you thought.  

Your outing at the plaza went mostly as planned. You were able to take many pictures of the fountain, the hulking Meka walking around, and the street performers. The patrolling Melusines, once you told them what you were doing, became quite enthusiastic and asked for you to take their pictures as well. It would have been a great day, if it weren’t for the gray skies and the heaviness of your heart. 

Neuvillette’s behavior at home did nothing to quell it. Though he did his best to hide it, but he was obviously stressed and worn out. He would eagerly ask you about your day but seemed distracted by his thoughts as you talked, and rebuffed your questions, whether they were innocuous or direct, when you tried to probe him for answers. He came home later than usual and worked into the late nights in his study. 

Over the next few days, you continued your urban outings, criss-crossing the city to take more pictures. You ate lunch outside and people-watched as you sat at your table. Often, a Melusine would join you. Being able to spend time in such a carefree, leisurely way would have been an unattainable dream to the past you, but you couldn’t enjoy it fully, not when you were always worried about Neuvillette at the back of your mind. He definitely seems more haggard these days. Is he eating well? I hope he isn’t just drinking water and passing that off as having lunch. 

“Are you not hungry, Madame?” a sleepy-sounding voice broke through your reverie. It belonged to Menthe, who was sitting across from you. “You’re not eating your fish and chips.” 

You looked down. The savory dish, deep-fried to a golden brown, was one of your favorite treats, but not something you ate often, and yet you found yourself with zero appetite.  

“I suppose I’m not,” you sighed. “You can have it if you like.” 

“Oh, really, Madame? Thank you!” 

You watched as Menthe happily dug in. She had accompanied you to this café after you decided to take a lunch break.  

I wonder if the Melusines are in on this too, you thought. It wasn’t unusual for Melusines to come up to you when you were walking around town, but you couldn’t help but notice that there seemed to be an awful lot of them at the places you went to. The places where you told Neuvillette you would be.  

They were as cheerful and talkative as ever, but you also noticed how intently their bright gazes flitted around, even when they chatted with you, almost as though they were on the lookout for something. 

You considered several possibilities and narrowed it down to two: One, there was a serial killer on the loose, or some other crazed criminal, who was after you. Two, your relationship had somehow been exposed to the paparazzi.  

It was doubtful that Neuvillette would let you leave the house if there was a killer after you. And why would someone want to kill you, anyway? For marrying Neuvillette? What a lame reason for murder. Then again, some of his more extreme fans were known for their passion… 

The second option seemed more likely. However, you had scoured all the tabloids for any articles on the matter, and while you did find some claiming that Neuvillette was involved with some woman or another, none of them were you (although you didn’t feel as relieved as you ought to have, for some reason). If you knew anything about these kinds of publications, it was that if they caught wind of something juicy, like the Chief Justice being in a secret relationship, they would waste no time in making that their headline, no matter how flimsy the evidence was. 

Thinking back on it now, you and Neuvillette definitely hadn’t been as discreet as you could have been. The two of you had been in public together enough times that someone could get suspicious. 

It would be easy to deny it though, you mused. In most of those cases, we were just talking or walking together. Just because a man and woman are together, it doesn’t mean they’re a married couple. 

Whatever the case was, you wished Neuvillette would talk to you about it. 

If it has something to do with me, then just tell me, you thought. You were now back home and staring up at the ceiling of your room. Why all the secrecy? It’s clearly stressing him out. 

Sure, there was probably very little you could do to help, but…but… 

Why are you acting so presumptuous? A small voice whispered in your mind. Didn’t Neuvillette say he would take care of everything? When will anyone ever offer to do that for you again? 

Yeah, but… you argued back. I shouldn’t just sit back and do nothing! It’s unfair to him.  

What does fairness mean in a relationship like this? What can you, a baron’s daughter, do for the Chief Justice of Fontaine that he can’t do for himself? If he doesn’t want you to know about something, it’s for your own good, just like last time. He clearly doesn’t expect you to do anything. What you can do to put him at ease is living your own life carefreely and supporting him at home. 

But… you struggled to come up with an argument. Or maybe, you were unwilling to.  

Your bed was nice and comfy, and your room was cozy. The sunlight streamed through the lace curtains of the window. If you wanted to, you could run a bath and soak in it for an hour, or read at your window seat, or ask Marie to make a snack for you. You could do anything you wanted. 

You continued to lie on your bed until dinner time. 

Neuvillette didn’t come home until very late at night. By that time, you were already in bed. 

The next day was grayer than usual. It rained all day. As you were in no mood to undertake the challenge of photographing in the rain, you decided to stay home and brush up on your science. You had neglected your studies for far too long. 

As you rifled through a notebook, you suddenly came upon a nearly blank page. It was titled “List of Neuvillette’s associates.” 

You remembered writing those words all those months ago. It seemed like an eternity had passed since then. You resisted the urge to bury your face in your hands again at the memories of your embarrassing behavior. It was a wonder that Neuvillette hadn’t changed his mind and married someone more well-adjusted after all that.  

You glanced at the Lakelight Lily on your desk. It looked a little less plumper than before, but its refreshing scent was still there. You recalled Neuvillette’s words as he put in your hair. 

He was always so considerate and thoughtful. What’s more, you could tell he genuinely meant it. He never failed to ask after your comfort and health. He even inquired about your family on a regular basis when he didn’t need to. He even accepted your awkward offer of friendship when he could have just ignored you. 

You still had no idea what possessed him to ask you to marry him. He probably would have had an easier time if he had picked anyone else. No, not just anyone. Whoever he married should be just as kind and caring as him. Someone accomplished and beautiful. Someone who he could proudly show off in public as his spouse. Someone who could teach him the “joys of matrimony.” 

But until he finds that mythical someone, he’s stuck with me.  

Resolve formed in your heart. 

Neuvillette came home late again that night, but this time, you stayed up. You listened to his footsteps as he went down the hallway to his study. After you heard the door close, you sat up in bed. 

Okay, let’s do this, you cheered yourself on, then put on your robe and slipped out of your room.  

You padded down the carpeted floor towards the study. You found yourself walking on your tiptoes for some reason.  

The mahogany door seemed to you like an imposing barrier. It wasn’t too late to turn around and crawl back into bed. You were sorely tempted to. 

But I’m here on a mission and I’m going to see it through no matter what, you told yourself firmly. 

You raised your hand and knocked on the door. “Neuvillette,” you called out. “May I come in? I would like to speak with you.” 

A scraping sound came from inside. “Madame?” Neuvillette said as he opened the door. “What are you doing up so late?” 

You opened your mouth to answer, but your jaw remained hanging open as you took in the sight before you. 

Forearms. The words popped into your mind out of nowhere. Neck.  

Neuvillette’s usual long blue robes were nowhere to be found. For that reason, he was only wearing a white dress shirt, and his hair was unbound. That wasn’t what made you speechless. You had seen him in that state plenty of times before. No, what stunned you was the fact that his sleeves were rolled up and that the first two buttons of his shirt were undone. Without his clothing obscuring them, you were able to feast your eyes on the sight of his sinewy arms and the smooth, unblemished skin at the juncture between his neck and collarbones.  

He was usually so covered-up, even at home, that seeing so much of his skin exposed felt akin to seeing him naked. Oh no, don’t think about that, don’t think about that…   

“Madame? Madame, is something the matter?” Neuvillette’s voice broke through your thoughts, which were heading in a rather dangerous direction. To your extreme embarrassment, you realized that your mouth was hanging open slightly. No wonder he looked so concerned. I feel like a giant pervert. No, I am one!  

“Um, er…it’s nothing!” your voice came out in a higher octave. You took a step backwards. This is just wonderful. 

“Are you sure? Your face looks a bit red,” Neuvillette stood up. “You shouldn’t be staying up so late, especially if you might be sick.” 

“Oh, no, no, I assure you, I am definitely not sick, not at all,” you babbled, even as the words “forearms” and “neck” danced through your head. “I really just wanted to talk to you. It’s urgent.” 

“If it’s urgent, then please come in,” Neuvillette gestured for you to enter his study. His shirt shifted slightly with the movement, exposing a sliver more of his chest. You wanted to cover your eyes. 

You entered the study. Neuvillette sat back down in his chair and looked at you. You looked at him. Or rather, you looked at the air above him. 

“Madame, what is this urgent matter you wish to discuss with me?” he asked. He looked terribly concerned, and you didn’t blame him. The way you were acting right now was definitely a cause for worry. 

“I…um…want to…uh…you know…” you gestured with your hands. “I want to…brush your hair! Yes, brush your hair. I’ve noticed how…dishevelled it gets when you come home, so I would like to fix that. Yes, that’s it.” 

“You…wish to brush my hair?” Neuvillette repeated, sounding confused. 

You nodded vigorously. “And talk,” you added. 

“I see,” he still looked confused, but he stood up and went to the door. “I shall go get my hairbrush, then.” 

“Please do so,” you said, and watched him go to his room. Once he was gone, you buried your face in one of the pillows on the couch and screamed. 

What was going on with you? Why were you getting so worked up over skin? It wasn’t as though you were some sheltered maiden who never saw shirtless men before. And Neuvillette wasn’t even shirtless! And just what would he look like without his shirt on, anyways? 

“Stop it,” you told yourself. “Stop it right now. Think about something else.” 

“Pardon me, Madame?” Neuvillette’s voice made you jolt upright. “Did you say something? And why are you lying on the couch?” 

“It’s nothing,” you quickly got up and clasped your hands together, making yourself the picture of composure and self-possession, ignoring the voice in your head that told you it wasn’t too late to excuse yourself and run back to your room. “Please forget what you just saw. I am perfectly fine.” 

You held out your hand for the hairbrush, and Neuvillette gave it to you after some hesitation. The hairbrush was silver, its back carved with a swirling design. It was heavy and cool in your hand. You tried to picture Neuvillette brushing his hair with it every morning, like a princess in a fairytale, and had to suppress a (most likely crazed-looking) smile. 

He sat down in his chair, and you stood behind him. You slowly ran the brush through his silver locks, careful not to touch his horns. You did this in silence for a few moments. It had a strangely calming effect on you—you felt your heartbeat settling down, your mind becoming clearer. The fact that you couldn’t see his face was also helpful. 

“Neuvillette,” you began. “I know that you’ve been hiding something from me. I would like you to reveal it to me.” 

You heard him let out a sigh. He tried to turn his head, but you prevented him from doing so. “Madame, I have already explained to you that it is nothing for you to worry about. Please allow me to take care of it. It was caused by my own oversight in the first place.” 

“I am allowing you to take care of it. But I would still like to know what it is.” 

“It will only distress you, and I do not wish to do that.” 

“I will be the judge of what distresses me. And besides, seeing you obviously so troubled by this matter already makes me feel wretched, so there is really nothing to lose here.” 

“My apologies. I will work harder to mask my feelings as to not affect your mood.” 

“Neuvillette, that’s not the point I’m making,” you groaned as you worked to loosen a particularly tough tangle in his hair. “Right now, not knowing what’s troubling you is causing me more distress than whatever this mysterious ‘something’ is.” 

“I do not believe you would think the same way once you learned what it is.” 

“How do you know that?” you asked. Realizing that you had raised your voice, you quickly softened it. “Let me put this another way. This is how I’m repaying you.” 

“Repaying me?”  

“Yes. For listening to me, for allowing me to cry into your arms on our date. Do you know, Neuvillette, that it’s been a long time since I was able to vent my feelings to someone like that? I’ve forgotten how nice it feels. It…really saved me. And I want to do the same thing for you. I don’t know if I’ll be able to do anything, but it’s easier to come up with a solution when you’re discussing things with someone else, isn’t it?” 

Neuvillette didn’t say anything. He didn’t move. But you could tell that he was wavering. You picked up the ends of his long hair and brushed them. You needed to give him one last push. 

“If you don’t inform me about matters that are related to me, then I see no reason why I should tell you anything more about myself.” 

“Madame, what are you implying?” there was a note of what almost sounded like panic in Neuvillette’s voice.  

“That’s right. If you do not tell me your secret, I shall not speak to you ever again for the remainder of our marriage. You will lose the privilege of conversing with me.” 

You had expected him to let out a chuckle or something. You hadn’t meant it seriously. Well, maybe a little. You were feeling a bit frustrated. 

What you didn’t expect was that he would wrench himself out of your grip and turn around to face you. His lips were pressed together tightly, but his eyes were wide. His gaze burned through you. 

“I will tell you,” he said, voice almost too calm. “So please reconsider. It will pain me greatly if you go through with it.” 

“I won’t,” you said, caught off guard. 

He turned back around. After taking a pause, he told you about the photo Furina obtained, and the ultimatum she gave him. You listened to him intently as he talked, brushing the bottom half of his hair and occasionally untangling snarls.  

After he finished speaking, you took a few minutes to digest what you’ve just heard. 

“So, no one else except Lady Furina has that photo?” 

“Yes.” 

“You don’t believe that she would lie or go back on her promise?” 

“In this matter, I do not believe she would.” 

“I see,” you put down the brush, then moved yourself to meet Neuvillette’s eyes. “Then, I agree to the meeting. I think that’s the most reasonable thing to do here. In hindsight, we should have done it a long time ago. It would have saved us all this trouble.” 

“You agree to it?” Neuvillette repeated, sounding stunned.  

“Well, it was either this or let Lady Furina dig up my sordid past and do whatever she wants with that information, right? Besides, what’s so scary about a meeting? Plenty of people from all walks of life have made appointments with her, including my own great-grandparents. If they could do it, so can I. And I’ll have you there with me, so there’s really nothing to worry about.” 

“But once she meets you face-to-face, you will become known to her. You will not be able to live the peaceful life that you desire.” 

Oh, so that’s why he asked that question, you thought.  

“Well, we don’t know that, do we? For all we know, once she meets with us, she would judge that we are a perfectly uninteresting couple and leave us alone for the rest of the year.” 

“That is unlikely to happen,” Neuvillette murmured. “And what if she discovers our arrangement?” 

“She won’t if we don’t do anything that would reveal it to her. You know the saying, ‘Where there’s smoke, there’s fire.’ As long as we don’t do anything that would make her want to go through the records in the license office, we should be fine.” A thought suddenly struck you. “She can’t…prevent us from divorcing, can she? Or force us to remarry?” 

“There are no laws that grant her the powers to do those things. But, I expect that she could make life difficult for you, should she choose to do so.” 

“Hmm…” you thought. “Well, I’ll just think about what to do when that time comes.” 

“Madame,” Neuvillette rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Please don’t be so irresponsible about your own future. This is why I did not wish to tell you. I did not want you to push yourself needlessly for my sake.” 

“Push myself needlessly? I see things differently. There’s no guarantee that things will go smoothly, but that’s just life, isn’t it? All I know is that if we don’t do anything, it will most likely turn out badly for us. So I would rather choose the other option.” 

You sounded braver than you felt. In this cozy, quiet study with Neuvillette, where you were the only people who would ever know the words exchanged in this room, it was easy to feel self-assured and optimistic about the unknown. Perhaps this was also its own sort of danger.  

But when you looked at Neuvillette’s worried face, you found it easier to feel brave. 

“Neuvillette, do you remember the promise I made to you on that first night? I promised to make sure that your life is as inconvenienced as possible. This is how I’m trying to fulfill it. Will you allow me to do that?” 

“You need not go that far. You have never inconvenienced me, not even now. In fact, you have been a reassurance. It was due to my folly that we got into this situation in the first place.” 

“If it was your folly, then it was mine as well. I should have also been paying attention,” you let out a sigh. “Look, Neuvillette, we can go around in circles about this all night, but when you get down to it, it is for situations like these that you married me. You didn’t marry me because you liked me in that way. Oh, don’t look at me like that. You know it’s true. If I don’t do my part, then I’m just a freeloader living in your house, right?” 

“I have never thought of you as a ‘freeloader’… I have always considered you as my wife,” Neuvillette said curtly, but then he smiled at you gently. “You’ve made some very good points. You are correct. It was irresponsible of me to hide it from you. I still have much to learn when it comes to how a husband ought to behave, it seems.” 

A warm, tingling feeling spread through your body when you heard his words. He thought of you as his wife. Well, of course he did, since you were officially married and all. But hearing him call you “my wife” was an entirely different thing. 

“That’s my job, as your wife. To discuss problems and come up with solutions with you. And from now on, please tell me whenever you’re feeling troubled over something. I’m inadequate in many things, but I’ve been told that I’m a good listener,” you said, fiddling with your fingers. You felt your mouth stretching into a wide smile for no reason and looked down to hide it. 

“I will. My apologies for all the distress I’ve caused you. I will tell Furina tomorrow about our decision.” 

You and Neuvillette held each other’s gazes for longer than was necessary. In the dim light of the study, his eyes looked darker, obscuring his slitted pupils. You felt weak-kneed all of a sudden. You realized that you had been running on adrenaline until now, but you didn’t feel sleepy. In fact, you were wide awake. 

“Will you go to bed now?” he asked. His voice was lower, huskier than usual. 

You shook your head. “Will you?” 

“I still have some work to do.” 

“Then I’ll stay up with you. Since I’m your wife and all.” 

Neuvillette looked like he was about to argue, but you went over to one of the bookshelves and took out a history book, then went to curl up on the couch. “Feel free to disregard me,” you said, opening the book. 

After a few seconds, you heard an exhale, then the resuming of a pen scratching against paper. 

You didn’t know when you fell asleep, but when you woke up, you were in your bed with the comforter neatly pulled up to your chin. You were quite sure you had a dream, but didn’t recall its contents except for the instinctive knowledge that it was a good one.  

You also had the vague memory of feeling something warm brushing against your forehead, but it was so brief and fleeting that it might have been part of the dream as well.  

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Taglist:@just-simping-over-genshin, @xalphafox, @jqnehr, @favficdump, @thetwinkims, @cielclassy, @the-mxs-of-many, @mxyarylla, @lynettezz, @rosedpetal, @blue-sapphire-ink

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette x female reader #genshin fluff #the winding path of fate #my works

[greenerteacups]

Hi GT, I have a confession to make: I read all of the Harry Potter books and didn't like them, to the point that I cannot remember anything from canon. But reading your fic feels like I am getting to experience the magic everyone else felt when they read the OG series, so thank you for that!

I wanted to say that I especially appreciate your treatment of the female characters. Obviously you are getting rid of the weird misogyny and competitiveness of the books in regard to Hermione, Fleur, Molly, etc (I especially love your Molly, and the respect she gets from the other Order members is delightful) but I really appreciate it when it comes to the "reminiscing" parts of the story. It always bothered the hell out of me that Lily seems to have nobody who really remembers her? Like she was clever and pretty and nice and yet all anybody talks about is how cool James is and he has all these bros who would die for him while Lily had ... No friends? Apparently? Anyway sorry this is so long but I really really really appreciated that Molly, Lupin, Sirius, etc. don't just forget about her in your version, and talk her up to Harry as much as they do his dad.

This is a really incredible compliment. Thank you! It makes me incredibly happy to hear you're having that experience. It was one of the foundational moments of my childhood, and to share it with someone else is a magical privilege.

Lily is so dear to me, even though the source gives us rather little about her. I think it's a great shame that Harry in canon grows up mostly around his father's former friends, who happened to survive the war, whereas Lily's friends (we imagine probably the Gryffindor girls, so... Marlene, Dorcas, etc.?) are all dead or missing when the story starts. There's something grotesquely tragic about that, upon reflection: Harry is robbed of knowledge of his mother because of how the war destroyed her living memory. It's such an insidious remark on what death takes away — not just one life, but the memories and love that the life represented.

I was endlessly inspired by that one throwaway remark Lupin makes about being friends with Lily. It's really odd, in the context of Lupin's setup as a Marauder, that when he finally gets a one-on-one with Harry about his parents, his first move isn't to talk about James, but Lily. (Of course, this is on the heels of a comment about Lily's eyes, but like — Harry is said by many people to look like James, and if Lupin was James's friend first, shouldn't that have been the thing that struck him? Wouldn't it be "you so resemble your father, one of my dearest friends on this earth"?) And what was that kindness Lily showed to Remus? Especially since James literally altered his own biochemistry and risked his life in order to support him on full moons? I'm not saying Lily wasn't a true friend to Remus, but like — that's kind of a hard gesture to top, Lils!!

Between that and the goldfish story with Slughorn, Lily gets a phantom characterization as this intensely selfless, giving person. Problem being: that's not a personality, that's a character value. And we don't talk about people we miss that way! We don't go "damn, I'm missing my friend Lily, a noble heart capable of great kindness," we go "oh damn, Lily would have loved that joke," or "those were her favorite kind of pickles," or "I bet she'd have hated that guy." It's the ephemera of knowing someone that we use to feed their memory, and it's that ephemera Harry will never get.

#greenteacup asks

[joanquill]

"Will you be my Valentine?" + "Try that again and I swear, I'll be Cupid just to shoot you with arrows," + "Oh god... Why are you here?"

William James Moriarty x Phantom Thief female reader with 16, 15, & 12. (Y/N) is a Phantom Thief who catches William's interested (after she steals a treasure from the Moriarty family) and tries recruiting her to join his team, but she keeps saying no. Then on Valentines Day, William shows up during one of her heist to invite her on a date.

William James Moriarty

Tag/s: PhantomThief!Fem!Reader, Longer Than Expected (800+ words)

"Oh, dear..." William muttered, seeing the Moriarty heirloom missing from its case.

"And this happened only last night?" Albert asked Louis, who hesitantly nodded.

"My apologies... I should have triple-checked everything was secure before we left..."

"No, it's not your fault, Louis," William reassured, analyzing the room.

"Everything was in place. The perpetrator managed to sneak through every security measure we had..." he muttered, not seeing a single footprint.

"Even with Mr. Herder's technology?" Louis questioned, making William nod.

"Interesting," Albert chuckled, looking around the room.

"So, it was a perfect crime?"

"Almost," William knelt on the floor, seeing short strands of hair and droplets of blood on the floor.

"But I believe we have found our phantom thief,"

"Miss (L/N), it is marvelous you could come," William smiled as you stepped into the manor, full noble woman attire.

" Of course, Mister William. It's my pleasure," you courtly smiled with a bow.

"Only a fool would turn down an invite from the Moriartys," you added, making William smirk for half a second.

"Yes, well... I was hoping we could discuss some things over tea," William innocently probed, making you quirk your head.

"Is it about the auction for next week?" you asked as William walked to you.

"No, not exactly," William answered, tracing his hand against your hat and hair.

"I see you are trying a new look,"

"O-Oh, yes...!" you smiled, flustered.

"I thought it would be a nice change of pace," you added, making William smile.

"It looks refreshing on you,"

"Oh, my... That is terrible," you gasped, hearing how someone broke into the Moriarty manor and stole their precious heirloom.

"I do hope everyone was okay,"

"Yes, no one got injured, thankfully..." William reassured, leaning back in his seat.

"Well... All except for you, miss thief," he probed, making you pause.

"Whatever do you mean, Mister William?" you questioned, keeping your innocent facade.

"The thief from last night got a small cut close to their head, I assume," William explained, pointing at the side of his head.

"And I believe your new hairstyle is a result of it, along with your hat," he added, making you cover your mouth with your fan.

"I believe that is too shallow of evidence to accuse me of a crime, Mister William,"

"Then it will be all right if you take it off? Or at least part your hair?" William questioned, making you chuckle.

You looked to the side as you felt the presence of someone, Louis, you assume, along with the eyes of the rest of the residents.

"They weren't kidding when they called you a genius," you sighed in defeat, removing your hat and letting your hair fall, revealing the cut on your head.

"So," you crossed your legs as you leaned back in your chair.

"What now? Are you going to arrest me?"

"Quite the contrary," William smiled, making you raise a brow.

"I would like to recruit you,"

"She rejected your offer?"

"It would seem so," William chuckled as he and Louis walked along the manor.

"However, she did return the heirloom," William reassured, showing the jewelry in his hand.

"Then... What do we do?" Louis asked, weary of having you know their operations.

"Simple, Louis..." William smiled, looking back at Louis,

"We wait,"

After that meeting with William, you noticed he would always be within arm's reach when you were socializing, which does not help since most women try to grab his attention.

Even during your heists, William would mess with you, playing tricks and making it harder to escape undetected.

But nothing you couldn't handle, and he knows.

It also didn't help that his newfound interest in you made your parents think he was a potential suitor, making you both meet more often.

"Oh god..." you muttered as you saw William waiting for you, "Why are you here?" you sighed as he walked up to you.

"Is this a bad time?" he teased, making a vein pop on your forehead.

"Kind of, yeah..." you muttered, ignoring him as you continued your heist.

"Why did you get past the guards?"

"Same way as you,"

You rolled your eyes as you avoided the rest of the guards, William closely behind you.

"I've said it before, and I'll say it again... No." you insisted, grabbing your score.

"So, if you don't mind-" William suddenly held your hand, putting something in it, making you jump back.

"...Try that again, and I swear... I will shoot you," you threatened, but he only smiled.

"Your parents asked me to give it to you," he explained, making you raise a brow and open it:

It was a ball invite for Valentine's Day.

"Oh, no..." you grimaced, seeing the lovey-dovey design.

"Yes... Even I am inclined to say it is too much," William sighed, fixing his tie.

"However, the host specified that we must say these to our dates," William cleared his throat as he walked up to you, making you step back and shake your head.

"Will you be my Valentine?"

#yuukoku no moriarty x reader #moriarty the patriot x reader #valentines #william moriarty x reader #william james moriarty #william moriarty #jq valentines event

[echoedcrosshairs]

Those Who Fight Together - part 14

Summary: Undescribed Female Jedi nicknamed Reaper has a little fun before undertaking a personal mission to protect the batch from old enemies when things go a little hay wire.

Warning: Smut, NSFW, c*m drinking, emotional distress, mild breeding kink, brotherly Crosshair and soft Tech, threats of violence

Word count: 10k

Part 13 Part 15

Master list

Tech stared at the datapad stunned, he blinked several times opened his mouth and promptly closed it. He looked up to see Echo staring at him with curiosity and near blank expression on your face, he tapped his foot a couple times, "Leaving, I think it would be for the best," he chose to say, If I join she probably won't enjoy it because she'd think I'm forcing myself too yet if I join by his request and she's not ready then I would be making her uncomfortable. There is no winning.

"Are you sure?" You asked quietly.

"Yes, love making should be.. reserved for lovers," by the time the words left his mouth he realized how misconstrued that could be taken, "I am referencing how fondly you two were looking when I was interrupted and should resume prior to my arrival."

Echo tossed the box aside getting up and grabbed him shoving him towards the bed, "Sometimes you need to shut up."

Tech stumbled and crashed into the end of bed barely catching himself, "Excuse me?"

"You overthink everything," Echo said climbing back into the bed, "Just get in," he added flipping you on top of him resting your knees on either side of his lap, "You look so beautiful," he said watching you fidget on his chest, "Suddenly bashful," he said noticing the faint red on your cheeks letting his voice drop to a faint whisper, "The one thing I envy, being able to coat you." He looked up to see the backside of Tech walking out the room. "Stubborn," Echo grumpily shook his head.

You grabbed the box and attached it to him, "More for you," you whispered trying to distract him.

"Are you farking stupid?" Crosshair said once Tech outside the room.

"It is for the best," Tech said as he kept walking.

"For you or her?" He growled.

"Us." Either I mean her and I or all of us still up for debate.

"Sometimes I wonder how we're even twins," Crosshair growled stalking back to his bunk.

"As do I," Tech snipped.

Echo flipped you under him since Tech wasn't joining. He trailed kisses down the front of your throat letting his tongue trace the line between your breast and down your stomach before working his down between your legs. He enjoyed watching you squirm every time his mouth got close but never quite touching. You squirmed as he left deep remembrance of kisses on your inner thighs.

"You want to spend your turn teasing me?" You groan feeling his mouth hover right about you.

"I prefer the term foreplay," he smiled finally pressing him mouth to you spreading your lips with his fingers. His tongue circled you pushing your wetness up to lube your clit further for him before tightening his lips around you sucking firmly letting them slide back and forth tugging on you.

"Fark," you moaned, "You've been holding back on me," you whispered pushing yourself further involuntarily into his mouth, with an audible gasp as you felt something cold push into you, "Is that? ECHO." You felt it swirling inside you as it drummed in and out, "Echo FUCK." 

Echo couldn't help the chuckle that hummed against your clit, She definitely likes that. It wasn't like using his fingers, it was a phantom sensation against his scomp. Would make an interesting conversation with a protocol droid my 'Human-Cyborg' relations, Echo chuckled. He started fucking your harder with his arm feeling you shake against his face. He continued to slurp you until you were screaming and gushing all over him. He removed himself quickly and slammed his cock into you not giving you time to ride out your high.

Your hand flew to the back of his head right under his cybernetics holding onto him for dear life. Every inch of you tingled, your nipples physically hurt and it felt like his lips had bruised you in the most indelicate way. Every thrust his hips gridded against yours causing him to continue to rub into your clit, smirking in between shaky breaths. You viciously stroked him, Two can play at this game. His stroked got wilder in rhythm but less hard as he started trembling. One hand dropped to his chest running down it feeling his rapid heart beat and every bone and muscle. You managed to pry your eyes open for a minute to his shut just letting himself feel every sensation. So handsome, you brought your hand to his face and he opened his eyes looking at you. His gold eyes fixated on you, the silent question if it was time. You nodded bringing your mouth to his as both of you gave in, Echo collapsing on top of you moving to bury his face in your neck trying to breath. You gently stroked his back trying to find your own breath.

"Worth- the- wait," he mumbled between breaths, listening to you exhale each breath relaxing it was the most peaceful thing in the galaxy to him. He pulled himself are to find of his legs covered in fluid and his scomp even sticky, "have to wash- this," he groaned.

Every inch of you ached and didn't want to move but you forced yourself up knowing it would be harder to clean it later once it dried, "Let's get you- cleaned up, corporal," you smiled.

"Thanks, General," he smiled feeling your arm wrap around his waist supporting him although with how bad your legs were tensed wondering if he needed to be supporting you instead. He continued to let you guide him to the refresher and watched you take a damp towel and a special parts cleaner he kept under the sink washing down his arm inspecting every inch and scrubbing it just to make sure, "You really don't mind," he breathed.

"Was starting to wonder if I was going to have ask you myself to try it," you winked ringing out the towel and cautiously putting him in the shower and lowering the shower head so the water wouldn't find his relay.

"It's water proof," he smirked shoving it back up, "I thought the way you came all over my face should have proved that."

You playfully pushed him, "Careful I might push you into an ocean to prove it," you teased.

"Only if you join me," he naughtily whispered backs, "I wonder if I can swim," he pondered.

"On second thought maybe a shallow pool," you laughed noticing his face slip for a moment, "Just to be safe, then I'll shove you into the ocean in the middle of no where just you and me," you corrected watching the smile come back.

"I'd like that, shore leave just you and me."

"So why did you pull out all the stops?" You asked starting to feel the bruises form from his lips.

"Making sure you have a reason to come home," he said honestly, "And that if Slick even thinks about it" he gridded out.

"Echo," you said putting your hand on his face feeling the jealousy, "I know a couple boys he would have to discuss that with who are all apparently a little territorial" you smiled feeling it starting to fade out, "which is surprising from you Mr. I-like-watching-my-squad-fuck-my-wife," you joked

"You just look so pretty taking it," he smiled, "and covered in it. There's a difference, I trust them."

"Such a dirty mouth. You don't have to worry about Slick, I'm pretty sure Crosshair would snipe him if he looked like he did something," you giggled.

"Pretty sure Hunter would drop him off in a Gundark nest naked and then let Crosshair take him out if it wasn't humane enough."

You rolled your eyes, "I doubt Crosshair would if he did," you said shutting off the water.

"You're right about that," you both turned to find Crosshair standing in open door frame, "He'd be a dead man if he touched you," he said combing his smokey hair back.

"If your here for your revenge, your going to need a tube of Bacta or two. I am.. bruised," you said looking down at the light purple hue of your clit.

"Actually I came to barrow him for a second," he start clipping his chin out at Echo.

"Yeah I'll be out a second," he said during himself, "go back to bed," he said kissing your neck following after Crosshair feeling your eyeing trailing down the both of there back sides.

"What is it?" Echo asked the moment they were out of ear shot, soon enough he saw the answer Tech sitting storage locker in a very uncomfortable looking position holding a still full flask, "I am fine," Tech mumbled.

"Not if you're thinking about drinking it," Echo said propping himself against the wall.

"I am not, I have had enough for my life time," he said handing him the flask, "I was attempting to debate my ethics and morals in quietest place on the ship when someone interrupted," he added glaring at Crosshair, "apparently I had a third hidden, more then likely forgotten about after one to many."

"I haven't seen you in here since... your chat with the informant to get her back."

"How much longer until we land?" Tech asked changing the conversation.

"Still a couple of hours."

"I am... worried about losing her again," Echo saw how distant the look in his eyes were at that announcement.

"Then why did you leave?" Crosshair poked.

"If you haven't noticed I have a tendency to open my mouth say the wrong thing to her. I- didn't want to risk it."

Crosshair rolled his eyes, "You didn't need to open your mouth at all," then scolded himself because Tech tends to talk frivolously.

"As she stated, I ruined her mood and I did not wish to jeopardize the fact Echo lifted it."

"You were eaves dropping?" Echo glared.

"Of course I was. I have since we picked her up."

"That's why you asked if we were coming," Crosshair said slitting his eyes.

"Yes, I was not prepared for the answer."

Crosshair grabbed him by the face and dragged him out of the closet, "I'll deal that later," towards her room. He violently shoved him in following in after him, disturbing her peaceful stretched out position on the bed. "Kair'ta," Crosshair growled making you look at him.

"Yes?" you asked looking at the angry expression on his face but the bashful look on Tech's face.

"Closer," he said shoving Tech towards the bed, "Do you love her or not."

"He doesn't need to force himself too-" but the glare in Crosshair's eyes made your mouth shut.

"I suppose I have to explain what I said earlier," Tech hoping Crosshair was trying to force him to correct his mistakes.

"You said didn't care," you said barely looking at him.

"I... was just trying to convey an apology," he said sitting on the edge of the bed, "I am... sorry you didn't understand. I am bad at conveying my feelings, it made me uncomfortable but so does every new foreign experience but I would not have continued if I did not want too. I was also rather enjoying it, I should have made you stay and explained better," he added taking off his goggles and staring at them, "Intimacy is... opulent, while I may have interfered with ours I did not want to do the same with Echo's," he said reaching out taking your hand still staring at his goggles, "I hold that memory precious however if you do not press that button and it will be deleted," he said handing you them.

You stared at that goggles knowing how much he valued recording everything for research, In essence these goggles are him, every memory and mission. You handed the goggles back and closed his hand around them seeing the relief flood his face.

"Finally," Crosshair scoffed, "All better?" folding his arms over his chest.

"Sufficient," Tech said putting his goggles back on turning off the delete mode.

"Yeah."

"I'll grab the bacta," Crosshair said rolling his eyes.

"For a man who pretends not to have a heart and generally a cold personality you do seem to take care of him," Cross found Hunter already waiting with the tubes.

"This was his idea to share, I'm just making sure he doesn't ruin it for the rest of us," Crosshair attempted his regular icy tone grabbing the tubes from him, watching Hunter smirk.

"You just want to make sure he experiences a fulfilling life."

"Shut up."

Crosshair smirked sitting between you and Tech, gently spreading your legs putting one on his lap putting you noticeably on display, "I won't remove the markings," he said squeezing the tube on his long slender fingers gently massages your lips with his fingers, "This looks as good as it sounded," Crosshair smirked noticing the discoloration, "Maybe I should have stayed," he smiled, "Then again I'm pretty sure you wouldn't have any of that beautiful voice left," he added letting his fingers completely glide up you gently thumbing your clit with bacta. He applied more bacta to his fingers while massaging your shaking leg with his free hand gently going around your entrance. "Try anything new?" He asked curiously eyeing you threw his lashes.

"Tested how much I don't mind his scomp," you admitted smugly.

"You are really are down for anything," Crosshair muttered, "Did you like it?" He knew the answer but still wanted to hear it.

"You tell me," you rolled your eyes.

Crosshair quickly brought his fingers down to the cluster of knots and gently started petting it, "I'll let you cum if it tell me."

"That is coercion- oh," Tech said finally looking, she likes it.

"Just be my good girl and tell me," Crosshair said letting his fingers go faster while discreetly working the Bacta in.

"It was cold at first- then it felt incredible-" you got out, feeling his fingers start stroking up and down over the spot.

"Was that so hard," he said bringing free hand to your hip and kneading it with his finger tips, "but I still have yet to punish you," he smiled abruptly pulling his fingers out, smirking as he heard you whine. "I know, I know," he said kissing your leg, "You have to wait until the Bacta is done then I'll let you cum while I take what I want from you."

Tech arched an eyebrow, Attentive yet controlling and she likes it. Their dynamic is interesting. He watched him carefully remove her leg from his lap before moving up to lay next to her. Tech frowned at himself for moment feeling the forming erection pressing against armor, I see the game your playing. I can control myself. His eyes saw the tiny bit of excitement seeping out, Breath. You are an evolved mammal, I don't need to give in to such... perfection. Tech forced his mind to wonder else where to other topics, she had not invited him nor had Crosshair, We made up what is the point of keeping me around? What is Crosshair really trying to do?

"Since we have... aired the miscommunication am I allowed to leave?" Tech asked, his mind kept slipping to the primitive thoughts.

"Hunter will make the better mate," Crosshair poked, "Might as well snip yourself."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Tech growled.

Crosshair smirked grabbing his last toothpick from my pocket, "Just leave that's what you're good at, running."

"Both of you knock it off," you yelled at both of them, "Leave. Come back when you start saying what you actually mean," you said pointing at Crosshair, "you, when you figure it out," you said looking at Tech before curling up in your blanket.

"We've been sitting here for three hours, are we finally going to have a discussion?" Tech said breaking the silence between himself and his brother.

"There's nothing to discuss, you're not ready yet."

"Ready for what?" Tech asked but Crosshair went back to silence.

"This is taking forever," Wrecker complained, Can't you guys just talk it already we don't need to be fighting when we land.

"Can we just push them out of the airlock and come back for them," Echo scowled throwing Crosshair's own words at him which also illicit more silence.

Hunter walked over and crouched before them, "You have five minutes, then I'm restraining both of you and turning off the filter and no one is freeing you until I'm done. Now start talking because this is seriously getting old. Crosshair for once just open up for a farking minute and Tech just... listen."

"If you turn off that filter-" Tech threatened squinting at him.

"I have her permission," he grinned, "I think she enjoys the animal in me would hate it if you both had to listen," standing up and taking his seat again folding his arms and listening to her soft breathing.

"You're still conflicted about giving her your heart," Crosshair conceded, "you seem fine just giving up when things get tough."

"Each of us have a uniquely different relationship with her. She should be aware by now she is only one who has ever had my heart. I was not giving up when I asked to leave, you were tending to the bruises so there was no logical reason as to why I couldn't leave it's like I haven't had time with her lately."

"Don't remind me," Crosshair scowled feeling the tension in his balls, "The logical reason is that you need to be tended to by her, di'kut."

"Oh."

They lapsed back into silence, "Anything else?" Hunter poked, hearing her quiet footsteps approaching.

"Do you still plan using my misguided apology against me?" Tech asked.

"Debates if you keep acting like a blurrg in the mud, nerve burner. I know how much she enjoys being my canvas."

"Kriff off," Tech said angrily standing up his volume raising while staring down at him, "Keep your doshing choobie fluid to yourself or it'll be you and I beating the bantha crap out of each-other and if it hasn't escaped your mind none of you have won against me. I don't think you would enjoy sparing with me when I am distempered. Yes I may have said it but I did not mean it, it is my time."

"Took you long enough to enough to snap," Crosshair chuckled, "Told you he didn't mean it," he smiled sliding the toothpick to the other side of his mouth.

Tech looked at you standing in the doorway at his dishevelment, one balled fist and the other hand's finger poking Crosshair's chest. He lowered his hands, taking a breath. He found Hunter and Wrecker grinning at each other. Clever. He watched as you motioned for him to come forward, reluctantly he move to stand in front of you. You're hand snaked up through his hand and pulled his forehead to yours, hoping up to wrap your legs again his waist as his hand slipped under your ass and held you there against the doorframe. "See sometimes you can say what's on your mind sober." You heard him sigh before carrying you back to your room.

"I'm surprised you figured out his game before I did," he said holding you up against the wall of your room.

"Even with these you can't see clearly," you said taping on the goggles.

"I am aware my perception is not as great as theirs when it comes to relationships."

"When it comes to yourself. They've seen you at your lowest and will continue to push you so they will never have to again."

"That is my assumption, although an interesting way to go about it."

"So you really didn't mean it?" you asked.

His moved away from your ass, inwards towards your barely covered entrance, "I would prefer it to be completely mine until my fantasy is complete however I know the chances are less then ideal. It would have made me quite catastrophically irate with hazardous consequences," Tech took a breath, "I admit I would not have been mad at you if Crosshair would have continued. However I would have extremely disgruntled with him and myself. I am... grateful he didn't. I do not think I would have forgave him if he did."

"Do I need too," you said bring your hand down to his face.

"I rather.. work through it and pick up where we left off before I opened my mouth."

"You want to make love to me again?" You whispered seductively.

"Until they have to pull me off of you," he admitted.

"You are not the tiny bit jealous?" Wrecker asked in between the moans

"Nope," Echo replied contently listening to his mate be happy.

"Not even a little?" Wrecker countered.

"They've both been through hell and she's voluntarily offering to put herself through it once again. He needs her right now so hopefully he doesn't put himself through it while she's gone. At the end of day it's our bed and I can kick any of you out," he added smirked taking a bite of his ration bar, "and she was louder for me, so why would I be jealous?" he added smugly.

"She definitely has a droid fetish," Crosshair scowled.

"She has a me fetish," Echo's smirk grew larger, "Thanks for the compliment."

"It wasn't."

"Sure it wasn't."

Hunter shook his head, acting like a bunch of hormonal cadets, "Just be happy you didn't hurt her with that thing," and that quickly shut them up, "But she enjoyed it.. even with the filter it was still... arousing."

Your mouth kissed up Tech's throat until you got to his adam's apple gently sucking next to it, "Fark," he moaned shoving himself as deep as he could go and held himself there as he focused on your lips digging into him. His eyes fell closed as he returning to thrusting himself in you as your fingers trailed up his core landing over his pecs. His mind was going a million miles a minute calculating how long he could hold off for more time feeling you touch him except every noise brought him back to the moment.

"You're shaking," you whispered panting between his long strokes.

"Edging," he smiled nearly taking himself out before gliding back in enjoying the sound of your wetness against him, "The.. touch is not helping my restraint."

"Why are you edging yourself?" you asked. 

"An experiment," he said leaning down putting himself next to your ear, "Hearing you with Echo and Crosshair touching... frustrated me."

"Someone's in a mood," you said wrapping your arms around his neck, "Try." The moment you said it Tech started slamming into you spreading you further. The roughness of the action rivaling even Wrecker's strength, each thrust bruising the surrounding area as his hips collided with yours. This time Tech didn't stop you from trying to muffle yourself, the skin on skin slapping was already loud enough to cause concerns. Tech pulled you legs up but spread them as far as they could go as he spilled into the top of you. Your eyes rolled back and breathing at that point as optional.

Tech was soaked top to bottom with his sweat, taking off his goggles he squeezed the band over the floor watching drops off. I will have to change the band, how obscene. He moved your legs into the folds of his arms rubbing them with his hands before gently pushing your hips forward so it would be more difficult to spill. His vision was still cloudy but he enjoyed the you barely conscious under him. One day. He put his goggles back on leaning back on his heels patiently waiting for you to come back.

"Maybe we need to tranq him," Crosshair scowled when the noises finally stopped after the third time.

"She's fine," Hunter said listening to her heart rate finally calming down and breathing start to regulate, "What did you expect to happen pushing him like that?"

"Hunter's got a point," Wrecker pointed out, "Still can't believe that's what he's into, like she has amazing tits, incredible ass and legs... but that? I still don't get it."

"Maybe when you grow up," Crosshair snapped.

"Head's up and hot," Hunter commed in noticing one big ship in the view before them next to the planet,  "Wrecker get on the tail gun." Wrecker bounded cross the ship in stride tossing himself in this seat and deploying. Crosshair quickly relished the Co-Pilot seat to Echo. 

Tech swiftly grabbed a toy Crosshair had purchased and shoved it into you. Now try leak, he thought amused to himself staring at the inserted plug. He quickly threw on his pants and headed for the front. Tech shoved Hunter out of the pilot seat, dripping in sweat and soaked but at least semi clothed at least in his pants belt and arm band.

"My ship! She's done," you squealed giddily before composing yourself with a cough.

"Do not remove it," Tech growled turning his attention back to ship before them.

"What in the Sith's hell is that?" Echo stared at the ship.

"In short, it's a break apart frigate with several heavy class life pods and in long it's a very modified Lucrehulk-class battleship to be smaller and faster with several of my lead commando droids waiting for orders to explode."

"Explode?" Tech said grabbing a towel in his belt wiping off the dripping sweat running down the side of his head.

"It's going to be glorious," you smiled sickly sweet, "BB-001, come in," you said pushing the com button.

"We arrived at the coordinates, awaiting further instructions," the holo display showed up and all of them got to see the droid design for themselves.

"What is the status of my ship."

"Fully operational, all pods loaded to max efficiency. Everything is running at optimal levels."

"Good, await further orders and stay in orbit."

"Roger Roger," the line went dead.

"Do I want to know what your plan of attack is?" Tech asked.

"Hard and fast," they all caught the innuendo.

"Is that my fucking toy?" Crosshair growled staring at Tech.

"It is not against the rules, she has not had enough time to... soak? I know that is not where it goes but it works for the time being."

Cross scowled picking a toothpick at him, surprised when he let it hit his shoulder before it fell to the ground. Close enough to an apology. He eyed the toy sticking out, "Having fun indulging him?" he leered.

You sat in Hunter's lap purposefully letting the toy poke his leg which got a tiny growl from him, feeling Hunter lean forward stiffing the arousal before pressing himself as fair back in the chair as he could go, "Yes she is," he gritted out, "and Torturing us."

"Succubus," Crosshair replied.

Tech put the ship still in standby in orbit, "We'll go to the planet shortly. Come," he said motioning to you and Hunter.

"Now that's a bad idea," Echo mumbled, "and that's coming from me."

"Yeah, aren't they into the same thing?" Wrecker asked walking over hearing the false alarm,

"How are we going to explain the amount of Bacta we go through?" Echo grumped.

"I have to agree with Echo, Tech" Hunter said noticing how bad his legs muscles were quivering and the small limp.

"I also agree," Tech said tossing him a condom, "However my muscles have a mild tear, so you're going to finish fucking it into her. I thought you would appreciate the offer the most."

"Tech!" You snapped noticing the tiny barely noticeable wince when he got himself on the bed and prompt himself up against the wall.

"I am fine Cyar'ika, come get on your knees," Tech said taking his goggles off letting the back of his head lay flesh against the wall.

Hunter shook his head but complied. He looked down you resting your face against Tech's leg and the unusual softness in his face and felt like he was intruding. Hunter undid his bandana, grabbing your hands and tying them together behind your back. Letting his hands trail down your back down your ass and slowly pulled out the toy watching you tighten around it. It took a little bit of force pulling it out watching of it leak down your leg. Hunter gripped your ass trying to steady himself from just slamming into you and be damned if the consequences. He carefully ripped it out with his teeth making a display of it as he saw you looking back at him and slid it on. He grabbed your bound wrist and bucked into you hearing the squish around him, "Someone's been used," he growled leaning down and kissing your hands, "Does it hurt?" he asked cautious.

"Everything hurts," you rolled your eyes but you pressed yourself back into him, "But you currently have a mission to complete," you smirked.

She knows how to pluck my cords, "Then I'll be quick about it." Hunter moved his hands to your hips thrusting himself in and out watching you drool on the bed. It wasn't the same tight death grip around his cock over stimulating him but a nice light hug around him. I think I prefer it this way. "Reaper," he groaned hunching forward laying his chest down your cool back as he filed the condom, one hand untying you and the other supporting his weight from crushing you downward. The warm of it was mildly uncomfortable against his sensitive tip but as soon as you were free he didn't have to worry about it long. Your hand went down grabbing it pulling it off with you.

"What are you?-" Hunter stared wide eyed as you gently pulled it out of you with a moan staring at how full it was before pouring it into your mouth and swallowing it. He stared flabbergasted as you whispered he was delicious before patting his cheek and grabbing your robes before heading off to the refresher. Hunter looked at Tech with the same stupefied expression.

"She is lucky my legs are not currently functioning," Tech stared after her, "I would cut out that implant in an instance," he muttered.

"I heard that!" You called laughing.

"I can not believe I just said that out loud," he uttered covering his face.

Hunter's mind kept replaying that in his mind and the smile on your face while doing it, knowing what it would do to both of them. He didn't dare follow you into the refresher knowing it would take just one look and he would have to let Tech beat the brain cells out of him. He groaned getting up wiping himself up throwing everything back on.

"Need help?" He said looking at Tech still not moving.

Tech relayed the medical supplies he needed with his face still burning. I hate this. I hate this. I hate this. He mentally kept scolding the feral side that was locked deep down under the intelligence. He banged his head once or twice into the wall making himself focus on the ship schematics muttering each fact to keep his brain busy as Hunter brought it the supplies.

"I think she broke Tech again," Wrecker said watching Tech mutter to himself.

"What did you do," Crosshair smiled as you walked out of the refresher dressed and still smiling ear to ear, you whispered it in his ear.

"And Crosshair" Wrecker said looking at the bewildered expression on his face.

"I don't want to know until we're done here," Echo groaned.

"That would be for the best," Tech said finishing the schematics for the second time.

Hunter helped pulled him up and grabbed his goggles, "I'll change this, go shower," he said feeling the damp band.

Tech nodded heading to his bunk grabbing a fresh pair of blacks before disappearing in the refresher.

"Why are you torturing them?" Echo smiled running his fingers down your face.

"You said you wanted to give me a reason to come back and it gave me an idea."

"That's why your mine," he chuckled wrapping his arm around you, "I really wish I met you as a reg."

"You're still-"

"You know what I mean. We would have had a lot of fun."

"We have a lot of fun now," you pointed out recognizing his self consciousness, "I wouldn't change things for the galaxy," leaning into his embrace.

Tech silently climbed into the pilot seat still shocked with outburst and started maneuvering the ship down to the planet. He looked back for a second finding you curled up in Wreckers lap yawning as Echo was prepping another Stim shot and then at Crosshair and Hunter whispering. Tech sighed it wasn't in relief or disappointment just calm indifference, It's almost peaceful like it was before.

"Is that Slick?" Crosshair squinted noticing the shuttle and the familiar shaped figure standing against it.

You stood up staring out the view rubbing your neck from the injection, "Yes that is."

Crosshair growled loosening the collar of your robes pressing his teeth into his mark and the pressing his hand to the front of your throat pulling you back into him "He touches you and it won't be humane," he growled releasing you putting his helmet on.

All them watched in silence your demeanor change the moment you were off the ship, watching one leg go infront of the other making your hips sway and seeing you stand straight backed at full height. Watching you stride right towards him and one of your droids.

"Slick," you purred offering your hand.

He knelt kissing it, "Duchess," he said kissing it again before standing up putting his hands at his sides, "Didn't plan on seeing you again so soon."

"Neither did I but... unforeseen circumstances arose."

"Just awaiting my orders, Duchess," he smiled, "Whatever it takes to pay off part of my debt."

"Hopefully it doesn't come to that my knight," you said gently caressing his cheek, "I am glad you are up the task of my usual mayhem," you removed your head, "BB-001, how many droids did we get per pod?"

"Three."

"They won't know what hit them," you smiled, "Both of you stay out here with the shuttle. Does Master know where you are?"

"I do have quiet a few shore days."

"Good man."

You could feel that anger rolling off the boys as you strode away towards the door. The five of them followed after you silently into the building back towards the main atrium finding Indel sitting there already holding the book.

"The answer you seek is not here," she said holding out the book, "however it will answer a few you had in the past," she said watching you tuck the book into your robes, "Are you prepared for what you must do?" She asked staring into you.

You took off the mask and stared right back at her, "I am prepared to die for my duty, without question or hesitation. My arrangements have already been made. Asclepios will take my place and oversee my assignment as it has and will always be if I fail."

"You are aware going now may have consequences-"

"I am aware if I do not go now the consequences may be worse."

"You may use the forge and be on your way, but first, You and Echo step forward." Your hand was already on your right saber disassembling it, you pulled out the crystal and handed it to her. Indel took the crystal and the necklace she had waiting and put the crystal in it and place it around Echo's neck, "You are recognized as her spouse, should anything happen place the crystal on the door and it will open."

Echo gave a stiff nod and the feeling of panic started washing over him, your hand slipping into his and was moderately comforting but something still felt wrong, "Sometime is going to go wrong isn't it?" he asked as the six of you headed to the forge with Wrecker carrying Wolffe's gift.

"There is always the possibility, we are shown parts of how things should play out but sometimes things change. It's a precaution and a formality."

"I don't like it," Crosshair said talking his helmet off and sticking a toothpick in his mouth.

"Why would Asclepios have to join us?" Tech said pointing out the most concerning part of that interaction.

"My duty is to protect you, it would only be the next natural choice if I have failed and Timeria being... gone, that I have the next person I trust the most to finish my assignment."

"She's not my type," Wrecker shrugged.

"None of you are her type," you laughed.

"Her loss," Crosshair offered rolling the toothpick, "I'm great in bed."

You gave him a small force shove causing him to drop the toothpick, "If you're insinuating you want to sleep around just don't do it in my bed or in my bed when I'm gone, get a new one," you gritted out grabbing the case from Wrecker locking them outside the forge.

"I can say I am glad for once it wasn't I saying something wrong," Tech snickered until he saw the regret on Crosshair's face, "I know you didn't mean the comment like that, I'm do not think she did either... she is... stressed and preoccupied with the task at hand."

"I hope so," he grumbled leaning against the wall sticking another toothpick in his mouth.

You stared at the Beskar bars waiting for the form to come to your mind, Home. You moved around the forge smelting it and adding color smiling as it started to take shape. You held the chest plate in your hands, the Wolffe pack grey with the Bad Batch red down the middle. You set the piece to the side and continued to the shoulder pieces making it grey with a red skull protruding modified with 99 for eyes. The other shoulder the crossed saber and scythe in red finishing the body pieces in grey and red so it stayed uniformed. You stared at the last bars of beskar, now for the hardest part, you thought groaning. You stared into the helmet, the red scar of the eye and 99 over the other with "to war" written on the back. You laid all of the pieces out staring at them as you took off the robe and rolled it up with your book and mask in the middle slowly equipping each piece. The different between life and death is what you wear. I wear my heart. You opened the door finding them all waking up from a nap staring.

"It's perfect," Crosshair said first.

"I know, I made it," you snorted, noticing the expression on his face, "It's okay."

"Mer!" Wrecker said picking you and putting you on his shoulder, "The goddess seat," he chuckled.

"Going straight there?" Hunter finally asked.

"Yeah... I have too." All of them looked at each other in silent agreement, "What are you planning," you said squinting at them.

"Best if you didn't know," Tech offered, already typing out the message to Slick.

"Whatever it is. Don't."

You guys exited the building with one stopping you, you saw Slick still waiting with the shuttle primed to go.

Wrecker took you off his shoulder and took the robes, "Good luck," he said giving you a quick kiss.

They each have you a kiss goodbye especially Echo, he held your face for a moment longer, "Come home," he whispered before heading off to the Marauder. You watched them all walk off, not a single threatening to Slick. Weird.

"Ready?" Slick said after watching their ship take off and get into space.

"You have to ask me if I'm ready to destroy something that poses a risk to my family and all of your brothers?" you laughed, "I was born to be ready, let's go."

BB-001 took the pilots chair and took you up to the ship. You sprint out of the shuttle to look around. "It's better then I dreamed!" You laughed.

"Shame we're blowing it up," Slick chuckled jogging keeping up.

"It is an ugly shade of white," you laughed finally stopped running.

"You picked it!" He chuckled, "Let's head top side so we can get going."

"Lead the way," you followed after him looking at the discreet pods in the wall and the barely visible droids underneath. "REEF!" you said practically tackling the droid knocking him over, "They were able to put you back together!"

"Hello, Duchess. Yes there were able to find all of my parts, almost there are a few new ones and reassembled me."

"Thank you!" You said letting go and hugging Slick before coughing and letting go, "Three of Four of us definitely increases our odds."

"I figured it would. It's seems you and the bantha fodders made up?" He asked.

"You could say that."

"Still don't like those two."

"Sometimes I don't either."

"Think Echo is going to be jealous of Reef? He is the only one you gave a personality too."

"Echo has nothing to worry about," the quick response got an eyebrow raise, "He is mine. Permanently."

"Didn't see that coming," he admitted, "I was actually figuring you'd end up with Wrecker, he was the only one you didn't want to chop into little pieces."

You rolled your eyes plopping down into the large center seat and throwing your legs over the arm of the chair, "Let's go. Sights to see, people to kill, installations to explode."

"Hit it, Reef, let's go make some trouble," Slick said, hopefully that bought them enough time if not oh well. Slick casually checked the message they were on board, smiling. The crap I do for her, she's going to kill me, "I had Tech give your sabers while you were forging and I have some of your... more sultry uniforms on board. Would you prefer to change? We can just leave the armor in the shuttle, it would be... more discreet."

"You're right," you said getting up and wrapping your arm through his, "Lead the way."

"Of course, Duchess," Slick escorted you to one the rooms and already had several outfits laying out, "A few of my favourites," he admitted.

You looked at every outfit remembering when you wore it, you let go of his arm and he backed out of the room and waited outside. You ran your fingers down the red sleeveless body suit with a deep v that went around your neck and the matching single black shoulder cape with chain belt. Last time I wore everything went to plan for once. You opted for that one finding your sabers laid out on a black velvety pillow and a thigh holster with a blaster.

"Absolutely stunning," Slick said the moment you left the room.

"I'm always stunning," you purred.

"Drink?" Reef said offering a glass of water.

"Thank you. Would you be a dear and also get me a drink, it's going to be a long day," you said sipping the drink following Slick back to the main chamber.

"Right away, Duchess."

"Game plan?" He asked, "Or traditional Duchess fashion of hit them hard and blind or knock on the front door blasting?" He smiled.

"Both, we go in and disable the coms and cameras, the commandos will crash down and we'll be inside destroying equipment and get the hell out as it goes up in flames."

"Plan Double Trouble, let's see if goes off without a hitch this time."

"That was not my fault!" Reef said defensively, "I was not properly repaired from the previous deployment. Trying shooting your blaster when your chambers are clogged."

You and Slick looked at each other and busted over laughing to the point of tears, "I missed this," you said looking at the both of them.

"Was it something I said?" Reef asked.

"Slick knows all about shooting with clogged chambers," you started laughing again.

"If I hadn't been made to shoot six times with no reload time it wouldn't have been a problem!" He said defending his bedroom game.

"This conversation has become confusing, I am going to get you another drink."

"Thank you, Reef!" You called as he left.

"I am almost relieved you guys made up because I like feeling my legs when I have to run from people you pissed off."

"Your just upset because I didn't want to share you with that twi'lek girl," you teased.

"I'm glad you didn't, I can barely keep up with your drive," he laughed as Reef came back with a blue drink.

Your eyes focused on it and suddenly you back at the 79's watching the squad leave and then leaving that night calling Wolffe and Cody drunkenly and telling them what happened. Sitting with them for hours crying. You blinked feeling Slick shake you.

"You fainted," Slick said concerned.

"I guess I didn't eat enough," you said while he helped you up.

"I shall prepare food?" Reef asked setting down the tray.

"Please."

Reef stared for a minute before leaving, "You said please," Slick said shocked.

"I don't feel good," you admitted.

"The Night of Regret drink?" He asked looking at the blue, you nodded.

You sat in the chair and rested your head on your hand, "Thank's for dealing with me during that."

"We both needed someone."

"Entering the outer rim," BB-001 said.

You blinked and felt someone... someone's else on board. Your hand flicked to your sabers and Slick's to his blaster. "Someone's on board."

Slick holstered his blaster, "Funny thing... their on board," he said taking a few steps back putting his arms up.

"WHAT!" You yelled.

"Yeah... Wrecker, Hunter, Tech and Crosshair."

You made a sigh of relief when he didn't say Echo, "Where are they?" You said putting your sabers away and crossing your arms.

"By now? Probably in the shuttle waiting," he was already walking after you groaning, but he did get to enjoy the view of your ass in the suit.

You force pulled open the shuttle door glaring at all of them, "Out. Now." you snapped pointing on the ground. You heard Slick take an audible step backward at the harshness in the sweet tone.

They looked reluctant filed got out, you leg swept Crosshair forcing him to his knees and grabbed his ear, "What part of don't and I have to do this don't you understand! You are not suppose to be here," you snapped, "Who's bright idea was this?"

"Aurgh," Crosshair groaned pulling his ear back but remained silent, all of them were trained to remain silent.

You placed your placed your hand back on your hips and held one leg in front of the other subconsciously putting your legs and hips on display, "This is what is going to happen or beg me for mercy," you snipped, "When we get there you are going to stay on the shuttle and stay out of my way as much as I would personal ship you back to the inner rim but there is only one shuttle," you took a deep breath trying to not let the panic show, "You can move about the ship freely since we're going to be were for day or two. Reef can prepare food or you can over in the lounge," you said turning to Slick, "Speaking of which does Reef know there here?"

"Yes, Duchess."

"Unbelievable!" You scoffed, "Lounge, now," you growled, I need a drink, or four.

Slick folded his arm through the one you were extending, "Right this way."

You felt the four of them follow behind you discreetly, "Who's idea was this?" You hissed to Slick who remained silent, "Slick," you switched tactics, "I won't make tonight living hell if you tell me."

"Tech's," he said coughing it under his breath.

"That'a boy, you might get to sleep after all," you purred.

"We all knew we would be dealing with Duchess Death and not our Reaper," Tech said squinting when he heard his named, "However I am not opposed to being mildly tortured."

"Now who's the masochist?" Crosshair poked.

"She is so hot," Wrecker said practically drooling over the outfit.

"Just remember besides my helmet there is no filter," Hunter reminded. If I didn't instinctively associate that red with the Sith, I would ask her to wear that to bed.

"Right sorry."

Reef turned his head noticing you walking in with the guest, "Ah. I was afraid of that. I'll need to make more, I was going to discreetly bring them food later."

"Reef," you purred letting go of Slick getting a little to close to Reef and in his face, "If you ever don't tell me something again, I am going to make sure your guns lock up every fight so you have to repaired every time. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Duchess."

"Any other karking surprises?"

"I bought a loth cat, of course she is at home-" Reef started.

"I mean big ones like that," you said pointed your thumbs back at the squad.

"No, Duchess. That is the only... loth in the bag," his program laughed at the pun.

"At least your finally getting humor I suppose, good boy," you said patting him before making into one of the lounge stools by the tiny bar. At least it wasn't fully stocked or that would have been a waste. You pulled one of the bottles towards you not even bother with a glass and opening it.

"I know that look," Slick whispered sitting next to you, "You're terrified," he said placing his hand on your leg, "Look at me." You took another drink and stared at him, "They risked coming knowing your wraith, what you're capable of and suspected what you'd be capable of knowing their lives are in your hands. I will die for one of them if I have too as I of course would for you but you have to let them come, you're doing this for Echo and we're doing it for our brother. It's only fair."

"I hate it when your right," you groaned taking another drink, "If I single thing looks like it's going to go wrong, you get them out of there. I don't care if you have to blow it with me inside do you understand?"

"Yes, Duchess," he said removing his hand and grabbing the drink from your hands and tossing his head back taking a decent chug, "I loathe the man but you should apologize to Crosshair's ear, it's still red," he said handing it back.

"I told him about plan b if I die, made a comment about Asclepios and being great in bed."

"Never mind he deserved it." He asked extending his hand for the bottle, "Can have Reef hold him down if you need to smack him around some more," he offered joking.

"Tempting, but no," you said handing him the bottle, "You know Hunter can hear everything we're saying."

"At least he'd give four eyes a heads up he's next if he keeps glaring," Slick said flatly.

"Don't mind Tech he's... in his cycle."

"We don't have cycles," Slick his face contorted with confusion as he stared at Tech for a moment, "Did the long neck's splice his DNA with something?"

"No, he's 100% Jango. Tech is.... I don't even know how to describe it. Maybe just stay away from" you said flicking your eyes down, "like anywhere. He's going to be very territorial until tomorrow."

"As much as I don't want to ask...?"

Hunter kicked Tech under the table, "Stop glaring, their's easily 100 commandos on here designed like us don't start any fights."

"His hand was a little to close for comfort," he said sipping the water Reef brought over, "and he was glaring back."

"Actually he was glaring at Crosshair," Hunter muttered, "For the comment earlier. And now their talking about Tech's... monthly predicament and to try not to start any fights."

Tech's mouth flat lined, "I want a drink. Let's just tell everyone that I can't control myself or that I'm not more evolved than an animal. Maybe I should just take a suppressor because everything would go back to normal."

"I am programmed to make a limited selection of drinks due to what's available on the ship, although I don't think you would be accustom to any of them," Reef said handing him another glass of water.

"Something strong, just one don't give me any more."

"Isn't that the drink..." Crosshair said staring at the blue drink Reef set in front of him.

"The Night of Regret, acquired all the way from Coruscant per the Duchess request. I take it you know it."

"Why was it her request?" Crosshair said staring at it.

"As you are the ones it pertains to to I'm not sure-"

"Why and why is called that" Crosshair growled.

"The Night of Regret, while doing her duty she fell in love and they used her tossing her aside afterwards.. leaving her to question her duty and her loyalty. It's a good luck drink, she drinks it and everyone dies, quiet gruesomely. It is the most impressive good luck charm. Anything else?"

"That was more then enough," Hunter said looking at the expression on his brother's faces, "Thank Reef-" he watched Tech slam the drink silently and hand it back. He heard the spike in Tech's heart rate.

"It was my fault," he whispered.

"Our fault," Crosshair corrected.

"No it was not, it was her's. She let duty and her feelings entwine," Reef said, "She has to love you or I would currently be chopping you into tiny pieces for her to burn," Reef added turning and walking back to the food.

"That was creepy," Wrecker said looking at the droid, "Sleeping rotations?" all of his brothers nodded.

"I'm glad Wolffe and you made up," Slick said, "I don't know how you juggle all of them."

"I'll tell you when I figure it out," you scoffed. You looked back at Reef talking to them and groaned at the blue drink on the table and the look on their faces, "I am suddenly in the mood to break things."

"Did I mention I so happened to have a room or two of breakable things for you?" He said standing up offering you his arm, "I think I'll bring this," he said grabbing the bottle, "Have a feeling we're going to need it." Slick took you down the hall to a room perfect for some anger release, "Because I do want to live through the night I'm gonna stay outside, I'll come in the moment you stop screaming."

"You're a great friend, Slick," you admitted taking a swig of the bottle feeling the tingle of rage seething through your hand.

Slick sat prompting himself against the opposite wall incase anything flew into the door. He heard the screaming start and stuff crashing into the wall as she tore it apart. He looked up to the squad running towards him. Slick placed a finger over his lips and shook his head before taking another drink. They stood there listening to her screaming, the blaster fire and things hitting and denting the door. Slick sighed, "She'll be fine, she get's like this time to time. You just have to let her get it out. When she go to sleep if you hear her start screaming, I'll take care of it. Speaking of which..." he said getting up shoing them away from the door as they watched the door crumble inward, "It's one of those days hold this," he scowled handing Hunter the bottle before shooting a hole in the door and climbed in.

"I didn't know it was this bad," Tech muttered, and it looks like there is several other rooms like this based of the markings.

Hunter closed his eyes and listening to her begging to know what she did wrong, if she was making the same mistake and if she would ever fell whole again. "Break the door," he said looking at Wrecker. He watched Wrecker full body swing at the door until it came off.

"Thanks," Slick said putting an arm around you dragging you out of the room, "REEF! Some of that fruit and water!" Getting back to the lounge he slide you into what he called the cool down chair because he could roll it anywhere after you wore yourself out. He kissed the top of your head not caring, "Feel better Duchess?"

Your head fell back on the rest of the chair, "Tired."

"Soothe your throat and then we can go to bed, okay?" He combed your hair back with his fingers, "Reef if you ever serve that drink to them again, I will personally make you less then spare parts."

"I left my sabers-"

"I'll get them, eat and drink," Slick walked off combing his hair back when he felt Crosshair slam him against the wall in the hall, "If you know what's good for you, I would get off of me."

"Don't kiss her again."

"I kissed her head asshole," Slick said shoving him off, "There is nothing between her and I. We're friends nothing more."

"You sure about that?" Crosshair growled.

"We both understand what's it's like to be used by the people we care about most. Now excuse me, I have take care of my friend," Slick scoffed walking off to the room grabbing the sabers off the ground and pressing the button for the clean up droid. He rolled his eyes finding Crosshair glaring at him, "Here," he said clipping the sabers back to the belt, "Feeling better?"

"Yeah, I haven't slept in an orbital or two almost I think."

"Yeah let's go to bed, wheel ya or walk?"

You stood up feeling the exhaustion hit you but you refused to sit back down. Slick folded his arm threw yours not surprised with the audience behind them, he pointed at the room next the room with the double doors. Slick set you on his bed quickly hanging up the outfits and pulling out your night wear. His hands worked to unlace the cape when the door open. He scowled seeing Crosshair glaring. Crosshair picked you up and set you down on the other bed his nimble fingers make quick work of it and the carefully removing the boots. He glared at Slick motioning him to turn around before he took off the body suit slipping the dress over your head. He growled at Slick motioning him to proceed and that they want to talk to him after as he left gnawing roughly on a tooth pick.

"I don't think he was going to do anything," Wrecker said.

"Don't care, that's my job."

"What?" Slick said looking at them.

"Sit," Hunter said, "She's never been like that around us. How... often does that happen?"

"Occasionally, when Reef got rebuilt they missed a couple things apparently. He's not suppose to make that drink before we're getting ready to get our feet on the ground for one."

"It bugs her that much?" Wrecker interrupted.

"Not usually, it's a good luck charm means we're about to have a lot of fun. For two I just think it was seeing him drink it," he said nodding towards Tech who was off in his own world.

"You are all so loud," you whispered, "just get in here so I can get some sleep."

Hunter patted Wrecker and knocked on Tech's head, "Come on we're all be commanded to go to bed we're keeping her up."

"All of you?" Slick asked wide eyed, "Just get out of my way if the nightmare starts."

Hunter stiffly nodded. They all left their gear in neat piles but of course Crosshair left his rifle prompt against the bed. Slick watched as Wrecker became the pillow, Tech and Crosshair cuddled up to each side of her and Hunter laid at the end of the bed keeping first watch. Crosshair tucked his around yours letting it drape over your chest his hand tucking in under your ribs. Your hands pulled on Tech goggles and he took them off. You rested your hand on his face absorbing the regret yawning pulling him closer. Slick raised an eyebrow, so that's how that works, he thought climbing into his own bed thankful he didn't have to share. Crosshair kissed your ear, "love you."

"I am sorry I drank it," Tech said, "I did not realize the effect it would have."

"I think two stim shots, not eating or sleeping would push any one over the edge."

"I should not have-"

"Ner mirdala jag," you whispered, my intelligent man, "Go to sleep."

#star wars #bad batch #bad batch boys #bad batch clones #star wars bad batch #starwars #the bad batch #starwars smut #bad batch crosshair #bad batch hunter #the bad batch x reader #poly bad batch x reader #poly bad batch story #poly bad batch series #poly bad batch smut #poly bad batch #bad batch x reader #bad batch hunter smut #the bad batch tech smut #bad batch echo #bad batch x you #the bad batch x female reader #the bad batch x you #bad batch fanfic #the bad batch fanfic #bad batch wrecker #the bad batch smut #jedi smut #star wars x reader #star wars fan fiction

[sarcastic-halfling-princess]

Suspicious Minds - Halbrand (AU) x Reader x Aragorn - Chapter III

Pairing: Halbrand (AU) x Female Ranger!Reader x Aragorn

summary: In an alternative universe, Halbrand was never Sauron. He was the secondborn son of Arathorn II and Gilgraen. Unborn by the time of his father's death his mother, along with a two-year old Aragorn, flees to Rivendell. This fic means to explore both a love-triangle scenario between the two brothers, as well as their relationship and how this would affect Aragorn's character. Basically this is a very self-indulgent fanfic so bear with me.

Word count: 938

Warnings: none

A/N: so this chapter is from the pov of our leading lady. We delve a bit into her background (just a tad) and into her feelings about everything. After this chapter I'll probably make two more. We'll get a Halbrand ending and an Aragorn ending (and maybe third secret ending?? shhh) but I wanted to let ya'll know! Thanks again for all the support!

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Chapter III - Reader

Her heart raced.

She could still feel the phantom of Halbrand’s touch upon her, see the way he had stared at her. Frankly, It brought a flush to her cheeks and made her palms feel clammy. How had she found herself in such a situation?

The young Ranger had always felt certain of herself and her place in the world. She was one of the Dúnedain, her purpose to protect and serve in need of others. She cared deeply for those around her which included the last heirs of the House of Elendil.

Perhaps she cared for them too deeply.

She could still recall first laying eyes upon them. Aragorn had stood out to her the most then; tall, strong and very handsome even with grime upon his cheeks and grease in his hair. It had not mattered to her for she had been positively captivated by him.

Then came the first meeting with Halbrand, the second son of Arathorn.

By all accounts, she should have despised him.

Loathed him even.

For Halbrand was an arrogant and impetuous man. Reckless and mischievous. He had an eye for chaos; one she had mayhaps foolishly thought would spill over into reprehensible behavior.

Gods, she felt stupid now.

Barging into his study demanding whether or not he had joined Sauron. She knew better; she knew he loved his brother. She knew he would not abandon them; would not abandon her.

She shook these thoughts off of her and decided to prepare herself for supper that evening. Changing out of her silvery dress she dressed her body in a velvety green gown with golden embroidery. Her hair she braided out of her face and once she was done, dusk had begun to approach.

With it, came a knock at her door revealing a smiling Aragorn. She approached dear friend with the same smile; taking his extended arm all too gladly.

‘You look wonderful tonight, little one’, the taller Ranger almost seemed to coo causing pleasant chills to run up her back. Though, internally she prayed for him to cease his compliments. She had already been made a flustered mess by one brother, she did not need the other to chime in too.

‘Thank you, Aragorn’, she nodded in return as her mind recalled how they had bumped into one another earlier; ‘I hope you were not too rough on your brother-’

‘I did not dare after the lashing you gave him’, he gently stopped her as his amusement on the matter made the corners of his eyes crinkle.

At the jest, she felt herself grow a bit embarrassed; minding her footing as she stepped over a root in their path. ‘I did not mean to be so harsh-I judged him unfairly’, she tried but he patted the back of her hand.

‘He was in need to have an earful. Yet he meant no ill intent’, he assured her and she nodded in agreement.

‘I know’, she answered then met his azure gaze with a certain level of uncertainty; ‘I believe he fears to lose you’, as I fear to lose you, she added mentally.

At this, he gave her a burdened, pained glance. She did not know whether he could read the truth from her face but even if he did, he gave no comment on it. Instead he gave her hand a light squeeze.

‘Come. We must not act with such despair as the Fellowship has yet to depart’, he urged.

And though she feigned another smile, deep down she feared to never see him again. To never solve the uncertainty within her heart; to never know whether her heart ached truly for him or not.

These confusing feelings had plagued her so and Halbrand’s affectionate gesture had only worsened things. Truly, she did not wish for her heart to be so fickle as she felt she could lead both of them to believe she had feelings for them.

Yet her stupid, lovestruck heart…

She had drowned her sorrows with Elvish mead that night hoping to dull the ache in both her soul and her head. She had sung and danced to her hearts content, unaware of the two pairs of eyes which followed her delicate moves with affectionate and longing intend.

Halbrand, the bold man he was had even offered to dance with her at some point. And oh he was wicked; making her trip over her feel and fall into chest. And due to all the mead and ale, she had so stupidly giggled into him, chastised him for his deception which he then fiercely denied and blamed solely on her supposed bad footwork.

Gods, she could scold him.

Aragorn eventually asked to have his turn to dance with her. She willfully chose not to see the tension between the two men; all lovestruck smiles as the older Ranger twirled her about. And though her dancing partner had changed, so hadn’t the pounding in her chest; the fluttering of her stomach.

Once again, she felt enamored and spellbound. Wishing for the joining of mouths, lips upon bare skin and the sighs of pleasure fading into the night. Wishing for words of promise and love to be whispered to her and only her.

For a while she could delude herself into thinking all had been as is once was and that no war loomed beyond the horizon. For a while, she could imagine herself a carefree young maiden untethered by the burden of responsibilities; free to bare her heart to not one, but two men he very much harbored feelings for.

But who was she to choose?

Could she choose?

Taglist: @jack-napier-2008 @ofheroesandvillains @actualhawkesworld @woodyrubster @queen-ilmaree @northlilies @faithfire

#halbrand x reader #halbrand x y/n #halbrand x you #halbrand fanfiction #halbrand imagine #aragorn x reader #aragorn x y/n #aragorn imagine #lord of the rings #lord of the rings fanfiction #rings of power #rings of power fanfiction

[darkx-the-dragon-kn1ght]

Chapter 14- Part 16

No no, nononono, I don’t think she wants to be perceived right now, just leave her to pretend to be invisible like a ghost- that’s probably why her hair is white! Just look at Danny!

I’m sure Xera would very much like to be an intangible phantom right now!

I mean, to be fair, that one evil guy had the control of the whole PULSE Tangrowth, that’s way tougher to bring down than a trio of Grunts with Pokémon that are likely not as well-leveled.

Ooooh no, that ring is super important for some reason, oh dear, what have we done, oh no-

Yeah, now that I think about- probably difficult for a father to scold his pre-adolescent and rebellious child when said child can just…fly away in the middle of it.

Why is this a choice…? Does anything actually change if we say ‘Yes’ or ‘No’ here? He said it’s non-negotiable, so I assume it’s one of those “the game won’t let you progress until you select ‘Yes’” things. Not that I’m gonna select ‘No’ here to test it, or as a joke, this scene is a bit too serious for me to want to do that…

Because, admittedly- okay, yeah, I’ve made my suspicions of Corey very clear by now, but this is still a painful moment, being forced to cut off contact with someone who seemed like an ally, not to mention Heather as well after having just gotten to bond with her over fighting bad guys, even if she’s a bit arrogant about her abilities (but with a Salamence on her team, I don’t blame her).

And those are just my feelings as the player, out-of-character. In-character? Heck- this probably feels worse for Xera. Again, she doesn’t suspect him of having a connection to Team Meteor, and while I wouldn’t say she feels as close with him as she does other characters (relatively speaking, given the outwardly cold demeanor I’ve assigned to her), I’m sure she at least respects and trusts him to a degree. And again- bonding with his daughter over fighting bad guys! So to break Corey’s trust to such an extent that he forces her to cut ties with them, to lose that connection like this…gosh, that’s gotta hurt.

But she’s not in a position to argue, either, and not just because she’s a silent protagonist here. So…

Man- the last two victories against Team Meteor had at least some sense of accomplishment or triumph to them, maybe bittersweet at worst (given what happened to Victoria last time). But this…I just feel sad, now. Just…Xera standing there, completely alone, only her Pokémon by her side at the end of the day…man.

But…with this, we should be able to access Beryl Ward now. And that, in turn, takes us one step closer to rescuing Victoria, hopefully. That’s what we should focus on- in-universe, I’m sure that notion will be what Xera takes some solace in.

Anyways, the sign in front of the Gym doesn’t give much info, just that this was the Jasper Ward Gym. But hey, with the vines cleared, we can finally go over and pick up that item!

Fitting, given we just fought a Tangrowth. 

Now…let’s get out of this sad little forest, and back to sad little Jasper Ward and its sad little Pokémon Center.

And I think we’ve made more than enough progress for one play session- more than I was expecting, honestly, but I’m not gonna complain. Thank you all once again for reading, next time we’ll finish up any business left remaining in Jasper Ward, then make our way to Beryl Ward and- maybe, depending on how long other possible events take- take on the other PULSE! 

Now that the creation process for these chapters has been greatly streamlined thanks to PicPick, progress and updates should be much more frequent from here on (barring any IRL things taking away free time). I’m really looking forward to that, I’m excited to keep going, and I hope you all are looking forward to it as well! So thanks again, and I’ll see you all in the next installment! Until then!

CURRENT TEAM:

Riptide

Species: Croconaw

Gender: Male

Level: 27

Ability: Sheer Force*

Item: Quick Claw

Brave nature; Alert to sounds.

Glare

Species: Arbok

Gender: Female

Level: 25

Ability: Intimidate

Item: Protective Pads

Naughty nature; Highly curious.

Prong

Species: Charjabug

Gender: Female

Level: 25

Ability: Battery

Item: None

Rash nature; Loves to eat.

Decibel

Species: Noibat

Gender: Female

Level: 25

Ability: Telepathy*

Item: None

Bashful nature; Often lost in thought.

Blizzard

Species: Snover

Gender: Male

Level: 25

Ability: Snow Warning

Item: None

Naive nature; Likes to thrash about.

Caldera

Species: Slugma

Gender: Female

Level: 25

Ability: Magma Armor

Item: Quick Claw

Jolly nature; Often scatters things.

CURRENT BOXES:

NUMBER OF RELOADS: 8

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#pokemon reborn #pokemon reborn spoilers #pokemon fan game #pokemon reborn screenshot let's play

[ataraxiaspainting]

Hier Encore IV.

Yan Chrollo x F Reader.

[Hier Encore III.]

Synopsis: Yorknew Police Department Headquarters, 1995, April 10th. You are a director of public safety. The Phantom Troupe attacks the headquarters and takes you under the guise of a hostage situation. Even when the ransom is paid, you are never returned and assumed to be dead. After thirteen months of captivity, in 1996, on May 9th, you escape and try to learn how to live again somewhere far away from your captor. The payment of freedom comes with a steep cost, one that stains your hands so much that even if you drown them in bleach, the stain will remain there for the rest of your life.

Warnings: Yandere themes, kidnapping, the reader is described as AFAB and uses she/her pronouns respectively, not SFW implications, misogynistic undertones (not from Chrollo), unhealthy relationships, manipulation o’clock, body transformation (not on the reader), references to religion, violence/gore, minor character death, and stalking.

Word Count: 5.9k.

Ten Songs Like This Piece:

Lacrimosa by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

4:00 A.M. by Taeko Onuki

My Girlfriend Is a Witch by October Country

Michelle by Sir Chloe

Sonne by Rammstein

Enemy by Imagine Dragons

Venus Fly Trap by MARINA

Maneater by Nelly Furtado

cult leader by KiNG MALA

Teacher’s Pet by Melanie Martinez 

“She looked like a vixen, and that’s what she was; she had all the instincts of a female fox. She was the proverbial predatory female. She had what she wanted, now, and she was content. There was just the getting completely away with it that counted.” – Gil Brewer, Sin for Me

iv. “I must be cruel, only to be kind.”

“Greetings.”

One emotion comes after another on Sebastian's face: confusion, fear, distrust, and many more.

“Hello.” His voice is tight. “Do you need something?” He asks, putting his hands on the doorframe as a precaution.

“I have just come to ask you a few questions.” Chrollo answers, his voice as calm and collected as always. He isn’t even looking at Sebaste, his focus is placed on the inside of the cottage. He knows that you are here.

“Like what?” Sebaste asks, his body tensing up.

“My dear, come out.” He calls out to you, his voice as soft as it usually is.

“I’m sorry?” Sebaste questions, his shoulders strained upwards. “I’m right here.”

Chrollo pays him no mind, instead still looking over Sebastian's shoulder. He hums, looking at one object in the living room at a time. The black sofa by the television was old with the bottom left corner of it torn, white stuffing no longer being covered there in that spot. The carpet below Sebastian’s feet, the colors fading because of age. The creaky poplar floorboards. The pots of plants where the kitchen’s checkered tiles and the living room’s wooden planks meet, where you are hiding. Your eyes meet and his eyes are as empty as ever, perhaps even emptier, like black holes in the ground that aim to swallow you whole.

“Come out, my love.” He repeats himself, his tone sickeningly sweet to the point of mockery.

“Excuse me?” Sebaste asks, his voice slightly cracking.

“Dearest.” His gaze is still on you. It is intense and you feel a pressure on your neck like you are being strangled by him. You can’t breathe.

“I’m here.” Sebaste moves his hands downwards on the doorframe. “I’m right here.” His eyebrows furrow. “I’m right here. Don’t ignore me.” He’s upset.

“Hmm.” He leans in slightly. “She hasn’t told you anything, has she?”

You can see Sebastian's feet through the leaves of the tall plants take a step or two back at Chrollo’s question. “What?”

He still is not making eye contact with Sebaste. “Honestly, I expected that you would have left her by now, or at the very least be on your knees begging for mercy from me. Little liar.” Once more, a gentle hum escapes his lips as he leans in, drawing himself nearer. “But that is alright.”

Sebastian's feet move backward yet again. “What?” He knows. “Hello? What are you talking about?”

Remaining composed, Chrollo gradually advances towards Sebaste. “My dear, aren’t you going to greet me? I missed you.”

As an innate response to his words, your muscles contract, causing your entire body to become rigid.

“Come on out,” Chrollo continues, his smile getting wider. “We haven’t seen each other for more than a year. It feels like a millennia since I saw you last. My heart still beats for you, though, and always will.”

“Leave,” You finally say, your voice almost as shaky as you are. “Go away.”

Sebaste and Chrollo are now both looking at you, but their gazes are different. Chrollo looks at you like a hunter looks at a slain doe or rabbit they are about to eat, while Sebaste looks at you with confusion and fear, for he knows what you are; a liar. “Come closer. Let me see you.”

You shake your head from side to side until your neck cramps and you feel slightly dizzy. “Leave, go away.” You repeat, your voice still shuddering. 

“I would take you more seriously if your voice was not quivering, beloved.”  You can perceive the mocking tone in his voice. “I want to see your beautiful face not covered by the foliage of a dying plant.” His smile is getting bigger and bigger by the second, you swear to yourself. “Come on now.”

Once more, you vigorously shake your head, refusing to comply. “Leave.”

Sebaste continues to call out, desperately trying to catch his attention, but he remains unfazed, humming to himself. Fear is evident in his expression and the urgency of his voice. Concern grips you, for both Sebaste and yourself.

“Come closer, please. Come greet me.”

You squirm behind the tall plant. “No, go away, leave.”

“I won’t.” His smile fades as he looks down at Sebastian's arms still holding onto the doorframe like it was their lifeline. It is actually, you realize.

Sebastian's face contorts into a frown, while he straightens his posture even further, assuming a defensive stance. “If all you are going to do is bother my girlfriend and not talk to me, you have to leave.”

“No.” Sebaste is finally acknowledged by him, but this time his voice lacks warmth, sounding firm and icy. “Step aside.”

The urge to run engulfs you. You want to run into the forest. You want to run until your feet bleed and your ankles are twisted and bruised.

“Why would I do that?” Sebaste hisses angrily. “Leave. All you are doing is being a creep to my girlfriend. Leave or I’ll call the police. Now.”

Chrollo simply leans in closer to Sebastian's ear. “Step aside. Please.”

Sebaste scowls. “Leave. Now.”

Run, run, run. Despite your determination to hold your ground, you start to relent under Chrollo's unrelenting gaze, eventually taking a step forward as instructed. “Ah, that’s better. Good.” As Chrollo's stare intensifies, you find yourself averting your gaze towards the ground, towards your bare feet. “Look at you, my poor thing. You have nothing more to say, don’t you?” He coos like a parent watching their baby take their first steps.

“I’m calling the police.”

Sebaste delves into the depths of his hoodie pocket, where his phone resides, leaving a portion of the doorway unguarded by his arm. The urge to plead with Sebaste, to convey the futility of it all, arises within you. However, you find yourself incapable of doing so. 

In one swift motion, Chrollo grabs the cell phone away from Sebastian’s hand and throws it on the ground, a loud smashing sound reaching your ears. It’s only more pronounced by a boot stomping and crushing it like it was some sort of bug.

“Come closer, dearest.” He says, and your feet move, your mind compliant. You move closer and closer, until you are a few feet behind Sebaste, who looks both fearful and confused.

“Call the police,” Sebaste tells you, the stress in his voice is more than obvious.

You just stare, emptily. There is no point in running over to the kitchen to grab your phone, because Chrollo is quick and thus would run quicker, quicker than you ever could. You, poor you, would fall in vain in the Spider’s hunt for the fly that made it out of the web alive.

“Call the police. [First], call the police.” You would love to appear as a saint, but bright crimson stains your hands and eats at your very being. The floorboards creak and crack beneath you as you walk closer and you hope that the planks will simply break and let you fall into an infinite void where you will never be sentenced for your crimes. 

“My lady of sorrows, as beautiful as ever.”

You should have hidden your tracks better.

“Call the police, [First].” You should have watched out for any targets on your back.

You should have watched out more for the eyes looking at you in the night because you only caught one pair. “Your love is like a warm summer’s day, and it will always be mine, all mine.”

You wanted a normal human life. You wanted a normal human death.

But you are caught in the Spider’s web and encased in silk yet again, so you can’t have either of those things. Now, all that you can have that you want is to cry.

“Call the police.” Sebastian's trembling voice echoes once more, filled with fear. Desperate to find solace, he reaches out for your hand, only to be met with the unexpected rejection of a slap. 

You’re so stupid. So, so stupid. Your brain feels numb like it is rotting away inside of you, slowly but surely.

“Call the police. [First]. Go get your phone and call the police.”

“All I want is to hold you in my arms and know that you are mine.” You hold everything Chrollo has ever said to you inside of you where your heart used to be. It weighs you down more than a broken heart ever would.

“[First]. Call the police. What’s wrong?”

The world is now monochrome once more. You feel the place where warmth used to be within you. But now all there is is ashes. There is nothing but ashes. Your lungs hurt from all the filth.

“Stop it.” Disgusting, you are disgusting, Chrollo is disgusting.

You wanted to see the whole world. But you are now back to being trapped in the spider’s web and you cannot do any of those things now. A butterfly with a hole in its wing caught in its web. 

“What’s wrong? Call the police. Go. Now.” Disgusting. “[First]?” Disgusting. “[First], why aren’t you doing anything?”

“Stop it.” Your voice cracks like how you wanted the floorboards to. “Just stop it.”

“Go get your phone.” Sebaste continues, deaf to what you are trying to tell him. “Go. Now. Go.”

Your head hurts. Your stomach hurts. You want your pajamas on. You want to sleep. You wish you never ran away because now hell will be unleashed on Sebaste and you as punishment. You wish you would have just made a pit stop in this town and continued being on the move. You wish you were more tactical. You wish you had never been born at all. Disgusting. You’re so disgusting and stupid and tired.

You find yourself uttering every part of it, stammering through the words, pausing to catch your breath, pleading for Sebastian's survival, hoping to just return to whatever luxurious penthouse or hotel room Chrollo is currently staying at, imploring to have a private conversation with Chrollo about this matter in his car, away from Sebaste.

As soon as you finish begging for Sebastian's life and open your eyes, you see the book in Chrollo’s hand. With the realization of what is about to happen, tears finally fall from your eyes onto your bare feet. 

The cry that escapes your lips is a unique one, unlike any other. It is choked, desperate, animalistic, raw, and undeniably genuine.

“Don’t! Please! Wait! Chrollo!”

Chrollo looks at you and you immediately shut up.

“What are you doing?” Sebaste asks, stepping away, his entire body shaking. “Answer me. What are you doing?”

Chrollo's gaze turns towards him, bearing a facial expression that ranks among the most dreadful you've ever witnessed.

He doesn’t respond with anything more than a hum and a quick turn of the pages.

You’re too afraid to speak.

You look at the floor and close your eyes again as you continue to cry.

You hate the book. He has never used it on you, but you know what it can do. Perhaps if Chrollo is in a good mood at the moment, Sebaste will merely have a curse placed upon him and he will go out the door with poor, wailing you, his grip on your wrist strong enough to almost break it. 

A foolish thought, you remind yourself.

Chrollo wasn’t known for his mercy, after all.

Sebaste is as good as dead.

Perhaps he is even worse than dead.

He could be tortured. Starved, eaten alive, poisoned, or has all of his bones broken bit by bit.

You are scared to open your eyes. But you are also scared to have them remain closed.

As you look at what is in front of you and ignore the noises around you, you deprive yourself of any mercy.

It is what you deserve.

“[First]?”

“Don’t.”

“[First], what is happening?” Sebaste points to Chrollo with a look of pure fear, his eyes looking like they are about to burst from their sockets. “What is he talking about?”

“I said don’t. Just stop.”

Sebaste stops in his place, his body shaking so much it looks like he is about to fall. “What?”

“I’m sorry.” It is a genuine apology. “But speaking will only make the pain worse for both of us.”

Chrollo hums again and nods at you, still flipping through the pages. Engaging in acts of rebellion will only exacerbate the situation.

The book stops turning and Chrollo points to a page. “I found it.”

His words are barely audible, drowned out by the piercing cries of anguish. Flashing lights; magenta, red, teal, and black.

Sable scales are sprouting from Sebastian's alabaster skin, each one covered in blood and pierced flesh.

His scleras are a shade of light coral. His eyelids are getting smaller and smaller by the second.

His irises get darker, almost to the hue of ink, matching the scales that are all over his body covered in little bits of torn skin. His knees collapse on themselves as you stand still, looking with both disgust and fear. His elbows fold as his arms lessen in length, his hands bonding with his clavicles. 

He is still screaming.

You want to tell him to stop, that there was no point. It’s already too late for either of you.

But you can’t.

You refuse to look at Chrollo, who is no doubt smiling at the horrifying tragedy unfolding in front of you two.

You just look at Sebaste with pitying, guilty eyes.

He does not look at you.

You deserve it, and he deserves to at least have that choice in the matter.

Whatever Chrollo is doing to him, there is no doubt in your mind that you deserve at least twice as bad of a fate.

But you don’t fear death. Not anymore. You know Chrollo does not plan to kill you, that death is not in the cards he is holding. He would never let go of his favorite toy. So, you fear the unknown. You fear whatever harrowing methods Chrollo is going to use on you. There is no doubt that they will be far more psychological than physical.

You sit and stay, like a good dog does, even though every fiber of your being is telling you to run out the back door and into the forest. So, you wait. You wait until he is done. You won’t speak or move unless you are told to. You give up all control and pretend to want to be dragged by a leash instead. You hide your true feelings behind a mask and not overplay your hand. That is how you become a dog.

Good girl.

Chrollo takes out a few Polaroid photographs from his suit pocket and lays them out on the table. One of them is the gore-stained walls of James’ apartment, his lower half the only part that is still whole. The second is Victor’s collapsed, untouched body on the wooden floorboards. The third is of your stalker’s rotting corpse in your abandoned shed, his head lowered and his partially gouged eyes swinging in the cool breeze. You can’t pretend to be better anymore. You can’t hide what you have done anymore. He knows.

You reach for the photos, grabbing them off the table then crumble them into balls, tearing them apart into shreds and watching them fall onto the ground.

Chrollo doesn’t stop you. He simply stares at the torn pieces that lay at your bare feet. He hums. It’s the most horrific sound you have ever heard. It is a mix of hilarity and hunger. When he smiles, his teeth look like a shark's. They are razorlike and look sharp enough to cut flesh, though they appear the same as yours. Although his appearance may deceive others into perceiving him as angelic, you are aware that he is anything but, just like yourself.

He knows. He knows.

Chrollo takes a step forward toward you but stops abruptly. He hums again. He looks upward towards your face and you make eye contact. Your brain starts screaming signals to run.

He knows of the lies that are the foundation of the makeup used to cover your hideous, real face. He knows of your sticky, sticky red hands, stained with crimson sin. He knows of the devil that lurks within the deepest confines of your heart. He knows that no exorcism or priest would be able to get rid of it. He knows that it will stay inside you until your last breath. He knows of the hidden transgressions within your soul, the deeds you committed to survive. The actions you took to elevate yourself above all others and everything else in this world.

He knows everything. He knows what you have done.

The stars twinkle no more. The moon has lost its luster. The night sky has broken apart. You cannot hide your wrongdoings from the scorching beams of the sun. Your skin burns. Everything hurts.

He knows.

He looks down at you like he is a king. Arrogant. Tenacious. He is not even a star to you. He is less than the small pieces of meteorites floating in the vast Milky Way, fading away more and more by the second. This life was too good to be true. You have failed and as a result, you have lost everything. 

You cover your head with your arms and run, tackling Chrollo to the ground. He falls onto the kitchen floor with a hard thump. You punch him, but your knuckle hurts as you do so, Chrollo’s face like an iron wall. You yelp in pain and withdraw your fist, using your other hand to pull out the knife from your sweatpants. You haven’t even made a dent into him, did he even feel anything?

Chrollo's laughter resonates as if he finds your actions incredibly amusing. He proceeds to articulate the harsh reality, a truth that is both unpleasant and acrid. “So, you were the one that committed those murders. As expected.”

No. No. No. No.

As you falter, Chrollo’s hands firmly grab the upper parts of your arms and push you off, the amount of power used being nearly enough to throw you against the glass cupboards of dishware and decorations. Instead, the back of your head collides with the wall next to the wooden back door, the paring knife flying out of your hand and landing a few inches away. A pained cry escapes your lips as your vision blurs for a second. He’s on top of you in an instant, his eyes dark and predatory, and your positions suddenly reversed. 

The blade, you have to get it back.

As you try to reach out for it, Chrollo grabs your wrist with an abnormal amount of strength. “I wouldn’t pick that up if I were you. It would only prove a point for me.”

Run. Run. Run. You have to run, like a small child running up the stairs when the lights are off, fearing what could be lurking in the dark. 

Life. Death. Free. Cage. Run. 

No, this can’t be happening, this is just a bad dream.

“Struggle all you like, we both know how this will end.”

“Shut up. I’m not going anywhere–”

“You are. You will stay wherever I place you because I am not falling for your tricks a second time, my little witch.”

No. This is just a bad dream. You close your eyes and try to wake up, shaking your head and begging for Chrollo to be just a figment of your imagination. You try and try, but you can still feel the crushing feeling of Chrollo’s grip on your bruised wrist and the weight of his body on top of yours. This is real, and this is happening.

Your mind goes blank as you open your eyes, your body being directed by raw, pure fear. Your forehead crashes into Chrollo’s, making him back up a few centimeters and let go of your wrist. Your torso crawls toward the blade like an animal whose legs are caught under a boulder or a bear trap. Your elbows bend and you try to move forward. You are just about to grab the knife when there is a yanking of your hair backward. You holler out as your spine is twisted peculiarly, your upper body facing downwards towards the knife while your lower body is facing upwards towards Chrollo. 

“Let go!”

“You certainly are stubborn.”

Your fist smacks him square in the jaw and he lets go. Your hand grips the knife, and you start swinging it around, blinded by emotion. You manage to cut into his right cheek as he spits out some blood from your punch. You try to gouge out one of his eyes, but his dexterity causes his head to duck just in time. Your body shakes with a mix of alarm and hate. You try to aim for the space between his eyes, but he grabs your wrist with one hand and your tricep with the other and starts twisting them in two different directions, making you wail. There is a sudden snap that is louder than your cries. You scream as you drop the knife and caress your broken arm. Chrollo grabs the blade and throws it far across the room. 

Chrollo’s body seems to relax a little, so you kick him in the face and try to clamber away from him. His nose bleeds, but it does not look broken. You are as desperate as a doe trying to escape the bullets of a hunter’s shotgun. 

Run. Run. Run. 

“You’re not being good. You’re not being good at all.”

Run. Run.

With the last bits of strength you have, you withstand the agonizing pain in your arm and kick Chrollo in the stomach with both of your legs, so hard that even you wince. He backs up as he chokes on his saliva. Some of the blood from his nose jumps onto your face and you can taste the flavor of metal. He falls backward and hugs his abdomen. He is off of you at long last. For the quick moment he is in pain, you stand up quickly, clutching your unusable limb. You run as fast as you can towards the paring knife. You bend down and grab it in a rush of panic. 

Run, rabbit. Run.

Chrollo pushes you down onto your stomach, your back facing him. He grabs your broken arm and pulls it, his foot on your spine to keep you there. It bends like rubber or bubblegum. You start to flail around like a fish out of water. You gasp for air as you cry out in pain. His other hand grabs the back of your head, raising it slightly before pushing it down hard onto the wooden planks. The life you have built for yourself, everything you have worked towards, the colorful, sweet world you have made, all shatters into splinters before your very eyes.

Picking pumpkins and apples to make decorations and cook into pies, harvesting sunflowers to put into glass vases around your cottage, going into the farmer’s market and smelling freshly roasted corn and baked goods, cookies, fried mushrooms, glazed yams, eggplant parmesan, learning to love someone for the first time.

It was all for nothing. It was all for nothing because Chrollo found you. Chrollo found you and enacted his revenge. You wail a strangled, desperate breath. A raw and real breath. 

You stop struggling at long last, like a toy that has run out of power from its battery. All that fighting and you have hardly made him use his true strength.

You are weak. You cannot go anywhere. You are a rabbit with nowhere to run. Murder. Death. Theft. Crime. Manipulation. Love. Chrollo’s blood is still in your mouth and it’s bitter and dry, like you had just eaten sand in a desert or oceanless beach. It chokes you, both physically and mentally.

No.

The fish that used to be Sebaste looks up at the ceiling, lying on its side. An unblinking, wide eye. Dull. Cloudy. Empty. Unforgiving. Confused. Weak. Its corpse lays before you two and starts to stink like the back of a butcher’s shop. 

I hate you.

That is what its eye tells you.

Traitor. Fool. Devil. Maneater. Tainted. Killer. Freak.

This is all your fault. Why did I have to die? Why are you still alive? You lied to me. You said you loved me. Liar. 

Liar. Liar. Liar.

Pathetic.

Your feet are still cold.

If only you could have died too. If only you could have died beside him. You don’t want to die in whatever hotel room or penthouse Chrollo will shove you in, within four suffocating walls and soft sheets that cost more than your monthly rent. You don’t want to die there, you want to die anywhere else. You are not ready to die. Tunnel vision overtakes you, with only one objective in mind.

Just stay alive.

Just stay alive.

That is your one wish to the stars above.

It hurts.

Everything hurts.

You are being burned alive by your desire to both live and die.

...

You don’t think before you do it.

You don’t try to stop yourself before, without any hesitation, your legs propel you forward, forcefully thrusting the backdoor open with your functioning arm. Anguish, fury, remorse, and sorrow engage in a fierce battle for dominance over your every move. As you dart deeper into the dark and densely packed forest behind your cottage, the only sounds you could hear are your own ragged breaths and pounding heart. It was as if the forest was trying to swallow you up, closing in with every passing step. No moonlight or stars pierced the thick layers of leaves and branches overhead.

The darkness is like a thick fog, blurring your sight and limiting your visibility. You could not see Chrollo behind you, but your instincts told you that he was. There was no hint of a breeze to take some of the edge off, with even the birds and chipmunks being completely silent.

The pain was excruciating. With every jostling step, your broken arm jolted around like a wooden toy, threatening to send you down to the ground any second as it kept getting caught in vines and hitting tree trunks. You could not afford to stop running.

You don’t see anyone following you.

Your feet are starting to bleed and leave a few red drops of blood with every rushed step you take. You don’t care about it because instinct has taken over your mind.

You trip over a large root on the ground and fall sideways right on your broken arm, making you scream from the intense pain shooting up. As you try to get up and caress your broken arm, you stumble downhill into a pile of dead leaves. 

Your mouth is full of them, making you hardly able to breathe as you spit them out. 

If it were any other time, you would have considered it funny.

But not now.

As you rise from the ground, your hand instinctively shields your mouth, preventing any inadvertent sound that may invite unwanted attention. The pursuit of Chrollo, if not already initiated, has undoubtedly commenced.

He’s after you. You know this. He came back into your newly rebuilt life and destroyed it right in front of your very eyes. 

You know he can hear you, but you cannot hear him. You never know of his presence until he is too close, that is how it always has been. That is how it is now. Chrollo has forever possessed superior speed, strength, intelligence, attractiveness, and wealth, making it impossible for anyone to ever match his prowess, even if they desired to do so.

You hate him.

You hate him, and he’s here for you again.

No.

How did he even find you?

Hisoka promised.

He promised you that your location would be undiscovered.

He lied to you, didn’t he?

Maybe lying isn’t the exact word.

Maybe he technically did keep his promise, because the Troupe didn’t show up in a matter of a few hours.

Chrollo showed up in a matter of nearly twenty four.

Your gasps for air and silenced cries are paired with a call of your name.

“Oh, you poor thing. Scared half to death.”

His words are as soft as they are cruel.

“Mater Dolorosa.”

You force yourself onto your feet again to run, sensing the voice behind you up the hill getting louder and louder. But when you move to run, you wince in pain and look down at your swollen red ankle.

It is so dark that you can’t see anything aside from yourself, the world around you being painted monochrome by the black night sky’s palette. 

There is nowhere to run, is there?

You have used up all of your luck getting this far, and have to pay the price.

You are out of time. You cannot dream of sweet escape anymore.

“Do you remember my touch? I touched you so sweetly. My darling girl.”

You would turn if you could, but the pain shooting out from your ankle prevents you doing so and almost makes you fall into the leaves again instead. “You took me away.” 

Moving in a circular motion, Chrollo gradually positions himself in your line of sight, his imposing figure standing tall before you. “It is a thief’s nature. I could not resist the temptation to steal you.”

Chrollo is a prime illustration of the extreme measures some individuals are willing to take in order to have you in their embrace. 

Your beauty has captivated every person you have encountered, evoking reverence from all. It is both a blessing and a curse, a double edged sword, both the thing that worships you and tortures you. 

Your sweatpants are covered in dirt stains and pieces of dried grass and leaves, your hoodie in a similarly horrible condition. Your hair had come undone, cascading in delicate wisps that obscured your vision, reminiscent of a spider's delicate web. There is nowhere to hide.

“Oh, how I love you.” Chrollo smiles and the way it reaches his eyes makes you squirm more. “Shall I enumerate the reasons why?”

…

The car ride was silent for a while. You would have preferred it if it stayed that way. But Chrollo could never stay quiet for long, even if you asked nicely, so he turned the dial of the radio and began humming along. In all the months you were with him, the only constant presence in your otherwise bleak, depressing life. 

The song he chose felt like yet another kick to the stomach. ABBA’s Lay All Your Love On Me. Of course he would play that.

As much as you hate doing so, you focus on the way your heart beats with each turn and bump along the road. He was calm, still so calm, even after this two year long escape. You are certain that this is the calm before the storm, and it was only a matter of time before everything came crashing down on you. More than what already had fallen. 

To claim that you were on edge would be an understatement. 

“Do you know what will happen now?”

With your heart pounding and mind consumed, you can't help but startle at his words, despite your readiness.

“...No.”

He lets out a small laugh, reducing the music's volume to a slightly muffled level.

It only makes you feel like you are about to go into cardiac arrest.

“You do, don’t you? You have always been a smart one.”

Your broken arm aches under the slight pressure of the seatbelt pressing against it, your ankle being only slightly cushioned by the insulated carpet beneath.

Chrollo has never hurt you before, aside from restraining you in the early days of your capture. Though, you know if you had blamed your ankle on him and told him, he would tell you it was your fault for running barefoot in the dark.

He hopefully will give you a brace or pillow for it when you both arrive back to wherever your temporary location is.

“My freedoms will be taken away.”

As he nods, a smile plays at the corners of his mouth, revealing a slightly sinister undertone that would easily deceive any unfamiliar observer.

“That is a start. But,” Pausing momentarily, he directs his gaze towards you, only to swiftly return his attention to the path that lies ahead. “What particularly? Give me an example, please.”

He is definitely planning something. Maybe you'll inquire about the source of his inquiry, or perhaps you'll force a trembling grin and pretend his question is nonsensical, aware that he's already aware of the freedoms you've gained during your time in confinement. Yet, he would persist then, and repeat his query. You could respond by acknowledging his authority to strip away any privilege he deems appropriate, a fact that both of you know to be true, but deep down, you understand that he desires a real, logical answer.

Whether this is a genuine question or something that will be used to mock you in a moment or two, you have no idea.

“A freedom like…” Your answer will probably be spawned into existence, making you wary of how to respond to his question, but you know you have to because you have no choice in this hell. “Like being able to move freely around.”

He only taps his fingers on the steering wheel in a melody unlike the one playing from the car’s speakers. “How so?” Welcome once again to the realm of eternal damnation.

You contemplate turning away from him and looking out the window instead. But that would cause you more physical pain from your arm moving against the car seat and more mental pain from you knowing you will not be able to go outside again for at least a while. That is, if you are ever allowed to go outside again. If you can ever escape again. He wants another answer. He is not satisfied. But, then again, when is he ever?

You don’t dare look away from him as he stares at you, not at the road, at you. You practically feel like your stomach is dropping out of your body and onto the insulated carpet, staining parts of it crimson red from the blood and a discolored version of its once licorice color from the stomach acid. 

“Go on,” You could imagine the feeling of his fingers and yours intertwining and starting to squeeze your throat. 

Thum, thum, thum. Bum, bum, bum. Dun, dun, dun.

“...Restraints.” You wish you could just dissolve like seafoam in the sea. “I’m not sure which ones you want to use. The metal ones or silk ones most likely.” The sensation of suffocation creeps in, as if the air itself has turned putrid and malevolent, weighing heavily on your chest. Your vocal cords are raspy, resembling the aftermath of regurgitating and subjecting them to the corrosive effects of gastric acid. “Maybe gag me or tie my legs together too. Or both, it depends on if you are in a good mood right now or not, right?”

He nods slowly, never taking his eyes off of you. His gaze feels unsettling, for there is no trace of anger in his eyes, yet you can sense his fury.

“That is one, yes. What else do you think will happen when we get back, my dear?”

The road is empty. There are no deer or geese or ducks crossing, only you and Chrollo. Animals have always had better judgment of human character, after all.

You hope that the place you are going to at least has a nice view.

“Tell me.”

#it's finally done #wild ride tbh #time to go back to touching grass for a bit <3 #yippie #yandere hxh #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere chrollo x reader #yandere chrollo #hxh chrollo #chrollo lucilfer #chrollo x reader #chrollo hunter x hunter #phantom troupe #yandere hunter x hunter #hxh #yandere hxh x reader #author aya #hier encore. #ultraviolet.

[theladyofshalott1989]

Thoughts on the Touring Production of Company

I had the extreme pleasure of getting to experience the currently touring gender-swapped (!!!!!!) revival of Stephen Sondheim's Company last night, AND OH MY GOD, I can't get this production out of my head. (I might even be thinking about writing a fic about it, SO THAT'S A THING.)

But I digress... BACK TO MY THOUGHTS This production was truly amazing. And it's definitely my new favorite musical. Some context: I knew absolutely nothing about this musical besides being familiar with the most popular song ("Being Alive"). And that Bobby, the main character, is typically played by a man. The revival swaps the lead role with a woman, Bobbie, played by the gorgeous, extremely talented Britney Coleman (here's an article about the production with a video of her performing "Being Alive", AKA FREAKING WATCH IT). She was also apparently in "A Very Potter Musical"??!!!!! So there's that too. So I have a lot of thoughts and they are going to be all over the place because I only had a few hours of sleep last night AND I am still processing. BUT the feeling that I can't get out of my head as of this morning is how absolutely thrilled I was that the show was gender-swapped. PERSONAL STUFF COMING PREPARE YOURSELF! I don't think I have ever in my life related to a female character in any form of art. Like literally ever. The closest I have ever come is maybeeeeeeeee when Elizabeth Swann became a pirate in The Pirates of the Caribbean series. LMAO. Whether this quirk of mine is a personal fault or what, I don't know (nor do I care, honestly...), BUT this has proven to be a problem when I'm in shows. Obviously, when you're playing a character onstage, you really should be able to relate to said character on some level. This is extremely difficult for me. Growing up, past a certain age (let's be honest: puberty...) I was always cast as the sweet, innocent ingenue. Literally always. And I despised it. I wanted to play the male characters. (In fact, my dream role is Peter Pan, which luckily, is typically played by a woman, so yay me, this could maybe possibly happen someday...) The male characters are more often than not better written (sighhhhhhh), have more interesting songs, have more freaking FUN on the stage, and what have you. I could go on, so I'll stop there. OBVIOUSLY, there are many unfortunate reasons why male characters are more fleshed out than female characters, and I won't get into that because it's extremely nuanced and I'd want to do more research before commenting on it, etc.

I guess what I'm coming to realize is that this show gave me HOPE. Britney as Bobbie was so natural. I never questioned why a woman was cast in this role. And honestly? I feel like that could be the case for SO MANY SHOWS. Give me a female PHANTOM. Give me a female SWEENEY TODD. For god's sake, I would love to play the role of JEAN VALJEAN. Is that really too much to ask?!!! Dear Broadway, let's gender-swap more shows, mmmkay? K THANKS BAI. Ok... I'm done now. Thanks for reading. LMAO.

#unhinged thoughts #but are they really unhinged? nahhhhh #company revival GO SEE IT #let's make gender-swapped shows a thing #please and thank you

[octolingo-writes]

JRWI Characters and what musicals I think they’d like (going purely from what musicals I’m familiar with so this might be biased and I apologize)

Gillion feels like the kind of guy to like the Phantom of the Opera, purely because the music style seems like it would REALLY appeal to him (it’s loud!! And it’s more traditional operatic music which I also feel would fit him). Plus, the Phantom doesn’t win which Gill would appreciate (I think Pretzel would like it too).

Chip I think would be a Music Man fan, or Guys and Dolls. Stuff with lots of chorus-y parts and fun dancing. Music Man has tap dancing which I think Chip would really enjoy, plus the main character in MM is a scammer/traveling salesman and Chip could probably relate. I know a lot less about GaD, but it’s purely a vibes thing. The music seems like Chip would like it.

Jay, I think, would be a fan of more “traditional” musicals, but not to the degree of Phantom. She’d be more fond of Wicked, for example. I think she’d probably be reminded of her sister a lot watching that show, which could either be a good or a bad thing. And Wicked has some really cool special effects that I think Jay would really like, given her knack for inventions.

These two aren’t PCs but I feel obligated to do them anyways: Lizzy and Caspian would be Heathers and Les Mis fans, respectively. Heathers is loud and super fun and swears a lot (lmao) which feels like the type of music Lizzy could get behind. I think she’d like singing along with Veronica’s parts, she seems like she’d sound a lot like Veronica when she sings. With Caspian, I feel like Les Mis is a very elegant musical, and Caspian is a very elegant character. I think it would be the kind of musical to make him cry honestly. And it’s similar to opera, which I feel like would be popular in the Undersea.

I’m not going to do ALL the other JRWI PCs, that would take forever (I might do them later but not now). I’ll list a few if they seem very obvious:

Harlem would like Hamilton. It’s a rap musical, and it’s we know Harlem is a fan of rap. I think he’d cry when Phillip dies, not that he’ll admit it. Also, Legally Blonde! I think he’d be super embarrassed that he likes it so much, but it’s got the crazy, overdramatic vibe that he would like in a musical. I’m not sure if there are disco-style musicals, but if there were he would love those.

Br’aad and Sylnan would both be Beetlejuice fans. This is partly cause I saw an animatic of them with “Dead Mom” as the song and it killed me inside, but I think they would like it! Br’aad would definitely appreciate the humor, and both of them can relate to unlikable father figures (understatement). Sylnan might also be a Les Mis fan cause he can relate to the poverty-stricken lifestyle a little more than Br’aad, and I think Cosette would probably remind him of Katherine.

Alastyr would like The Addams Family. It’s got a super weird cast of characters I think he would enjoy, plus, super fun music! It’s not so serious that it would be a downer to watch but it’s got a message hidden under all that eyeliner and tango dancing. I think he’d like Wednesday a lot.

Taxi strikes me as Dear Evan Hansen kind of guy. While I personally don’t like DEH that much, I think the emotional-ness of it would really appeal to Taxi, and as far as I know there aren’t a lot of really loud and angry songs (besides “Good For You”). I don’t know if he would fully relate to Evan, but he could certainly sympathize.

Rumi/Elaina would like Six or Phantom. I think they’d like dramatic musicals with a lot of strong characters, and Six absolutely has a cast of strong female characters Rumi could get behind. Phantom, on the other hand, would be a relatable one for them. The Phantom’s whole character is that he hides behind a mask, and Rumi is literally a shapeshifter. Plus, they would love all the costumes in that show.

Dakota, and this may be a hot take, would like Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat. I just feel like all the bright colors and the different song styles would be really eye-catching for him, plus, it’s got some humor! I think he’d like the Pharaoh character especially (Pharaoh is based off Elvis in that musical and he’s hilarious).

Well, that’s it for now! I tried not to repeat multiple times, so I hope I didn’t make any far reaches. Feel free to comment or reblog with your own ideas; I’d love to see them! I was working with my musical knowledge, which is a bit lacking at times. I’m not too familiar with some of the classics. Thanks for sticking around to read all these :D! Hope it was worth your time!

#jrwi #jrwishow #octo posts #jrwi riptide #jrwi fated #jrwi convergence #jrwi apotheosis #jrwi pd