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lavenderfluorite14 · 3 years

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Such Sweet Delirium

Reiji Sakamaki x Fem!Reader

Summary: Laito Intrudes on an experiment gone wrong. Reiji loses his cool.

Explicit, 18+ |TW: Dubious Consent/Non-Con, Drugged Sex, Verbal Humiliation, Slut Shaming, Blood Sucking, Ownership Kink, Female Reader, Breast Worship, Hickeys, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Begging, Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Possessive Reiji, Light Edging, Canon Typical Reiji Cruelty, I couldn’t just write porn I had to write a character study too lol, Slight Laito x Reader, Tagging non-con for the consent issues surrounding drugged sex, Reader is conscious and responsive but very high

Word Count: 2331

A/N: Please be mindful of the tags! This is the most explicit thing that I have ever written lmaoooo 🥂

Read it on AO3!

Reiji’s lab spun in a nauseating carousel of color. The last thing you remembered was drinking a beautiful, shimmering liquid that Reiji said he had brewed himself. It fizzed all the way down your throat, an insistent warmth quickly spreading throughout your body. Now sprawled across his sofa, you surrendered to dizzying oblivion. Somewhere above you, Reiji scribbled furiously in a black notebook, tutting irritably.

“Tell me what you are feeling. Be specific.” You swallowed thickly at the order, begging your tongue to move.

“The…...the room…..the room is-”

“Spit it out, I don’t have all day.”

“S-spinning. The room….is spinning” you slurred.

“How fast?”

“Fast.”

“I said how fast?”

“I….I can’t….”

Reiji tsked angrily, snapping his notebook shut. Flinching, you tried to turn away from his sharp gaze but a cold hand pinned you flat against the couch. Your delayed reaction time was no match for his vampiric strength.

“I can feel your heart racing from here,” he said, curling over you, pinning your wrists above your head. “Had I known you were such weak prey I would have given you a smaller dose. It isn’t as fun when you can’t fight back.” You wriggled underneath him, jerking weakly against his cruel grip. Reiji laughed, amused at your feeble attempts to escape.

“Although, I don’t hate this delirious expression,” he murmured, lowering his face towards yours. You squeezed your eyes shut, overwhelmed by his hungry stare. “I suppose this isn’t bad every once and a while.” His rich baritone rumbled in your ear, his proximity making you tremble.

“I didn’t think I’d interrupt this so soon,” interrupted a dark chuckle. Laito lounged against the doorframe of the lab, eyeing your entwined forms. “You must really like this one, Reiji,” he teased. Reiji’s iron grip tightened around your wrists and you whimpered pitifully. “It’s rude to enter someone’s room without knocking,” Reiji spat imperiously. “I knocked, but you didn’t answer!” Laito insisted, his eyes glinting with mirth. “But now I can see you were a bit distracted.” You lolled your head to the side, trying to catch a glimpse of the intruder. Laito’s smirk widened.

“Christ, what did you do to her?”

“Such language is atrocious. You shouldn’t speak that way.”

“You fucked up the dosage, didn’t you?” Reiji shot up quickly at the accusation, swiping his notebook from the couch as he crossed briskly back towards his desk. Laito’s smirk cracked into a grin.

“Do you need something, Laito?” Reiji asked coolly. As Reiji began tidying his work space, Laito sauntered over to the couch, his green gaze boring into you. Crouching down, he gently brushed his fingers across your cheek. You shivered under his cold touch. “I came for the aphrodisiac you promised me,” Laito said, trailing his fingers down your neck. He stopped to trace the hollow of your throat, caressing it with his thumb. “But if you don’t have it, I’m sure there are other ways we can pass the time inst-”

“Of course I have it,” Reiji scoffed. Plucking a vial of blue liquid from his stores, he crossed the room and offered it to Laito. “Now please take it and leave.” Reiji’s words hung in the air like frost. Laito rose languidly, like a cobra rearing back to strike, then swiped the vial from Reiji’s gloved hand.

“Maybe next time, Bitch-Chan,” Laito said, winking at you. “And Reiji,” Laito called, pivoting in the doorframe for one last jab. “I know it can be hard to control yourself, especially this close to a full moon, but try not to tear this one up like the last one, ok? You should save some for the rest of us.”

“Get out!” Reiji snarled, storming across the room. Laito darted off, disappearing as quickly as he had come. Reiji slammed the door behind him.

The ceiling swam before you in lethargic swirls of periwinkle. You had no idea what Laito meant, but you could feel Reiji fuming in the doorway. What was he talking about? Reiji never lost his cool. You couldn’t imagine him doing something like that. “You let him touch you,” Reiji seethed.

“Reiji, I...I didn’t….I didn't want-”

“Please be silent.Your behavior today has been dreadful.” Reiji prowled towards the couch, his long shadow casting a dark pall across your face. You closed your eyes, terrified to meet his furious eyes. “You couldn't do a thing?” He queried, towering above you. “You couldn’t cry out? Or swat him away?” His voice was ice.

“I…..I froze….”

“I suppose that’s to be expected from a woman like you,”

“I’m so-sorry,”

“How should I punish my little harlot?” Finally bending down towards you, Reiji cupped your face firmly with his gloved hand. “Your pupils are still so dilated. I doubt you’d feel my whip at all.” The thought made you shiver, and not completely out of fear. Reiji thumbed your lip idly as he thought.

“Suck….my blood?” He tsked at your suggestion.

“You ask for it so brazenly, sometimes I think you enjoy it. Hands up.” You heaved your arms up over your head as Reiji smoothly rolled your top up your body, tossing it aside once it was completely off.

“I suppose it’s my fault. I’ve been too lax with you,” he mused, settling firmly on top of you. You were particularly aware of his pelvis, pressing insistently against the cradle of your thighs. He cupped your face, drawing you close. “I need to teach you exactly who you belong to,” he said, his gaze drifting down hungrily to the column of your neck. “I’ll remind you so thoroughly of your place that even a dumb whore like you will be able to remember who owns her,” he promised, sinking his teeth viciously into your throat.

Reiji’s first bite was hard and precise, the sharp pain briefly thrusting you into lucid panic. But soon you were left with the warm afterglow of pleasure in the wake of its pain. It never stopped hurting, not entirely, but his bites always left you with a fluttering warmth. Reiji’s mouth was on you. You couldn’t help but enjoy it.

Reiji began a fast, desperate rhythm that pulled blood from you quickly, sending you reeling. You whimpered as your world whirled impossibly faster. When darkness began to flicker at the edges of your vision Reiji pulled away, burying his face into your neck. “You bring out the worst in me,” he sighed. Mouthing along your throat, he continued downward towards your collarbone. You braced yourself for another bite, but recoiled sharply when Reiji placed a delicate kiss upon your chest.

“Look at me, jealous of that pervert.” He kissed your chest again, skimming his fingers across the delicate skin of your décolletage. “Arch your back.” Curving your spine upwards, your body brushed against Reiji’s lean frame. You trembled as his hands ghosted along your back, making their way towards the clasp of your bra. Reiji unhooked it with quick ease then tossed the lacy fabric away, greedily cupping your naked breasts. A thin, breathy gasp escaped from you as Reiji dipped between them, kissing your soft curves. You tangled your hands in his hair, humming your approval. In response he tweaked your nipple harshly, sending a jolt of pain through your cloud of pleasure. You yelped at the enticing contrast.

“Let me remind you of your place. You are nothing more than food to me,” he said, pinching your nipple again with a renewed vengeance. You drunkenly brought your hands back to push him away, but he easily pinned them back above your head. “You are meat. Your blood is the only worthwhile thing about you.” Reiji sunk his teeth into the swell of your breast, drawing deep from you. Crying out, you tried to ignore the pleasure his bite ignited in you, trying to focus only on the pain.

“I can taste your arousal,” he groaned between mouthfuls. “Does your masochism know no bounds?” Reiji’s insults didn’t last as he dove back down again to litter your chest with angry bites. He’d kiss you, so tenderly it was almost painful, then pierce your sensitive skin with his sharp, pointed fangs. Once satisfied, he’d lick, suck and kiss the abused spot until an angry mark began to form. He left bruises everywhere in his wake, a garden of purple hickeys blossoming across your breasts.

The drug made it nearly impossible to meaningfully fight back but you didn’t really want to. Reiji’s words stung, but you so rarely had his attention like this. Was it because the full moon was close? You knew vampires had trouble controlling their urges when the moon was full. And Reiji so desperately wanted control: of his brothers, of you, of himself. Was this frenzied beast the real Reiji, or was his protesting, rigid persona the real him? Impossibly, you knew he had to be both. Both enraptured and repulsed by his own desires and completely unable to hide it. That was really why he was mad. Reiji’s wet tongue interrupted your musings as he lapped against your sore nipple, sending a shudder through your entire body. Unable to remove your wrists from his grasp, you retaliated by wrapping your legs around his hips, trapping him against you. Now it was Reiji’s turn to shudder, rutting himself against your core. He was hard.

“My, you really are out of it,” he murmured, grinding himself against you openly. “It’s the only explanation.”

“Explanation for what?” You panted, trying to match his thrusts. Reiji released your wrists, propping himself up on his left arm. Delicately biting the fabric across the tip of his pointer finger, he slid his glove from his hand. Ripping it away, Reiji’s bare hand skimmed down your body and over your curves. Flipping up your skirt, his fingers slid between your thighs.

“For this,” he says, tracing your wetness through your panties. Your eyes fluttered shut. “Reiji,” you breathed, arching towards his fingers.

“Say my name,” Reiji ordered softly, dipping underneath the fabric and rewarding you with long, firm strokes. You called his name again and he moved up towards your clit, circling it once before quickly pulling away. You whined at the loss.

Reiji begins a vicious rhythm, rubbing your clit with firm circles, then backing off when your pleasure mounts. He only returns to your clit when you beg him to, crying out for him. Fisting your hands in his shirt, you whine in frustration as a needy ache builds inside you. Reiji just smirks down at you, enjoying your torment. When tears start building in your eyes, he finally slides a slender finger into your heat. Beckoning upward along your inner wall, he firmly massages your g spot. Mindlessly, you grind down on his fingers, chasing your pleasure.

“Who makes you feel this good?” he asks, his ruby eyes alight with lust.

“You do,” you gasp.

“I asked you who,” he demanded, cruelly massaging your inner wall. You jerk at the pressure, almost cresting over the plateau.

“Reiji! Reiji Sakamaki!” you cry, desperate for release.

“Good girl,” he smirks, thumbing your clit. You gasp in delight, the rough, consistent circles of his fingers finally hurtling you towards your peak. “You don’t deserve this,” he growls in your ear, his deep velvety voice bewitching you. “But when I see you like this, I can’t stop myself. You’re mine.” Your orgasm hits you hard, squeezing Reiji’s fingers in hot contractions. Pleasure washes over you in a wave, your entire being gently pulsing. Reiji smugly guides you through your orgasm, only stopping his ministrations once your twitching has ceased. You sigh, melting back into the cushions of the couch. Above you, a belt buckle clinks.

“I’m not done with you yet,” Reiji says, gripping your thighs and yanking you forcefully back towards him. As he settles above you, he presses the tip of his member against your eager entrance. Pushing forward, Reiji sinks into you with ease. “My little harlot is so wet for me,” he teases, before setting a ruthless pace.

Reiji fucks you selfishly, chasing his own pleasure now that he’s satisfied yours. You lay back, still enjoying the lingering effects of his drug. His thrusts pull soft, pleasured moans from you as he plunges desperately into you. Closing your eyes, you revel in the sensations, happy to let him use you. Occasionally he’ll sheathe himself all the way inside of you and grind desperately against your cervix, trying to get as deep as he can.

“I can’t believe you like this. That you like me,” he pants softly, definitely to himself. Reiji lets you pull him down so that he is completely flush against your body. “I do. I like you, Reiji.” A groan rips from him and he stills, spilling himself inside of you.

You stay that way for a moment, holding each other tenderly in the afterglow of your love-making. You wish you could stay like this, enjoying the feeling of his body as it presses you into the cushions, gently stroking his back as both of your breathing returns to normal. But Reiji recovers faster than you do. “I’ll clean you up,” he offers, his tone clipped.

Reiji cleans you thoroughly with a warm wet towel, which feels strange but is not unenjoyable in your impaired state. It’s deeply intimate in a way that is definitely uncomfortable, but you think it’s his way of taking care of you. You close your eyes, pliant. His large hands drift over your body, tugging your top back over you and righting your skirt. Once he is finished you curl on your side, completely spent and ready to sleep. As you begin to drift off, you feel something warm and soft envelop you. A blanket? Maybe. Where did he get a blanket?

Reiji watches as you snuggle into the blanket he has recently taken to keeping in his desk, a genuine smile flickering across his stern features.

#reiji sakamaki #diabolik lovers #reiji x reader #Reiji Sakamaki x Reader #my little harlot #the night shift

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tintinwrites · 3 years

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how could we be wrong? | Priest!Max Phillips x Reader

A/N: Thank you for doing business with the religious trauma hotline, my name’s Caitlin. I’m just calling to confirm your order of a priest kink.

Rating: 18+

Warning: Fem!Reader. Max is a priest. Unprotected P in V sex, in a church, over a pew, while another priest and a parishioner are in the confessional booth. Oral (F receiving). Religious things. Naughty words. A bit of corruption kink. There are so many sins in this that I can’t list them all bc idk what’s bad and what’s not now.

Word count: 4,105, apparently!!

Summary: You go to church to confess your sins, but end up only adding on some more things you’ll need to confess.

GIF credit: thewaythisis

Tags: Love y’all but I cannot CANNOT force my taglist to have a priest kink thrust upon them like this.

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The oak door was heavy as you pulled on the brass handle, but the opening of it led you into a warm, quiet sanctuary.

You supposed there was a metaphor in there; you were out in the cold with a heavy weight, but just beyond that weight was warmth and salvation and peace.

Every pew was empty, bibles and hymnals tucked neatly in the compartments on the back as they waited for mass or for passersby who needed to pray. There were candles lit at the front of the sanctuary despite the lights on overhead, and you inwardly berated yourself for not knowing why they were lit.

You intended to go to the confessional booth to your right, but you paused halfway to it when you saw that there was another person in the sanctuary. They were facing away from you, dressed in all black, but they didn’t have snowy white hair like the priest who you’d seen the times you visited before.

Glancing at the confessional, you decided instead to approach the man.

Perhaps you just hadn’t seen him before and if he was the only priest in the building, going into an empty confessional would be a little silly.

“Father?” you asked cautiously, and the man immediately whipped around to show a face much younger than you were used to, his gaze quickly flickering over you.

“—yes, my...child?” The name was said hesitantly with a slight grimace and you wondered if you interrupted him.

“I’m sorry. I can come back later.” You turned to go, but a hand wrapped around your arm to pull you back.

“No, stay, I was just cleaning.” He held up the dust buster in his free hand, releasing you so he could put it on the altar table. “What do you need? I’m yours.”

He said that simple statement so smoothly as he turned to face you that it made your heart pick up speed just a bit, blinking at him for a moment. “Well, I...came to confess, but I’m not exactly anonymous anymore…”

“Oh, don’t worry about that, slugger!” He wrapped an arm around your shoulders before you could protest, leading you to a pew and sitting down with you, his legs open wide as he relaxed into the wooden seat. “So, come on, what’s the secret, huh? What’d you come to confess?”

“I...I don’t know.” You knew what you came to confess, but you were taken aback by his behavior and how quickly he moved, and mostly just embarrassed to admit such things to a handsome man like him.

“Are you one of those freaks who just came to confess just in case?”

“What? That’s...no.” You were definitely surprised by a man of God talking about the parishioners who came to confess like that. “I just don’t know if I should confess these things outside of the confessional.”

He made a face and waved his hand as if to say it was no big deal. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

There was something charming about how carefree and flippant the man was, but you still hesitated for a second. “I don’t even know who you are, Father.”

“Max Phillips. I just started training here.”

Well, that explained his lack of the professionalism and seriousness you were used to. You opened your mouth to confess since he was a priest or would soon be one, but you shook your head and looked down shyly. “I don’t know…”

A finger under your chin gently nudged your head up until you were looking into Max’s eyes, your heart picking up speed again. “You’re safe with me. Go ahead.”

There was just something about him that made you feel all warm inside, and you nodded for so long it was almost stupid before you remembered that you were supposed to be confessing.

“I’ve been having a lot of impure thoughts lately. It just seems like everything is driving me crazy and then I…” You faltered as the real thing you wanted to confess to danced on the tip of your tongue.

Max had been looking at the way your dress hugged your tits as he listened, raising his eyes to your face when you stopped. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re very young to be a priest.” You started to turn away because talking about something like this to a man who looked like that was not stopping your thoughts from heading in the direction they tended to lately. “And you’re different. Shouldn’t we be in the confessional?”

“Hey, listen, how about we...make a deal? You confess, and I can tell you how I ended up here.” He just really wanted to know what had you so ashamed like this, what could possibly make you squirm like you were right then.

You considered it for a second before nodding, taking a deep breath. “I’ve been masturbating. I start thinking, and then I start feeling these sensations, and before I know it, I’m touching myself.”

He nodded along in understanding like the thought of you touching yourself didn’t make his pants a little tighter. “I see.”

“I know it’s wrong.” You dropped your head into your hands, but were only able to wallow for a few seconds. The priest grabbed onto your hands and grasped them in his supportively, making you look up at him.

“You wanna hear why I became a priest?” He smiled at your slight nod. “I was always a little bit of a...troublemaker. But I guess the last time was just the straw that broke the camel’s back for my parents…”

“What did you do?” you asked with concern; the way he sighed made it seem like he did something terrible, like hurt someone or do some kind of dangerous drug.

“See, there was this girl I liked. I invited her over to my house.” He knew exactly what he was doing with this story, noting every little hint of your untapped desire in the way you leaned closer and your blinking slowed. “When my parents walked in to find me with my head under her skirt, slowly thrusting my tongue in and out of her, I guess it was too much.”

His words dripped with sensuality and you would have fallen right off the pew were it not for your grip tightening on his hands. He was so beautiful. You pressed your thighs together and just stared at him, your lips parting slightly like you wanted to say something or maybe even kiss him.

But then he leaned back and shrugged, going right back to his previous nonchalance. “So they sent me to seminary a few years ago and I was just accepted by this church.”

“Oh.” You nodded, trying to pretend that his story hadn’t affected you that much. It seemed like he was just telling a story and your horny brain had just read too much into it.

“You know sexuality isn’t bad, right? Rubbing one out is a biological response to release a little...tension.” He released your hands to break contact with you, noticing the way you fell forward just a little as he leaned against the back of the pew.

“The bible says—”

“The bible’s been translated a billion times and taken out of context a billion more. Trust me, there’s nothing wrong with releasing a little tension.” He tilted his head, pursing his lips as he decided to push you a bit. “There’s nothing wrong with you being turned on by the idea of me putting my head under your dress right now.”

You were nodding along as you considered his words, but then your eyes nearly doubled in size at his comment. “I—I don’t—”

“Now lying is a sin.” He reached out to tap you on the nose which made you blink rapidly in confusion. “Look at how tense you are. You’ve been denying yourself, haven’t you?”

“Well...I didn’t think it was right…” You were uncomfortable; not because he was upsetting you, but because you had been denying yourself and you were so turned on by his words that you wanted to do the very thing you came to confess.

“Why don’t you show me how you touch yourself?” He decided to be blunt. You seemed to enjoy it when he was.

“What? Me? Here?” Your reaction was almost comical, but his words still sent a jolt directly to your clit.

“Touch yourself. Yes, you. Right here.” He leaned forward to gently grasp your hand again, running his thumb along the back of it. “I’m a man of God. You’re safe with me if you need to release a little tension. I won’t tell a soul.”

“I…” You wet your lips, pressing your thighs even tighter together.

He kept his eyes on yours as he slowly guided your hand to the hem of your dress, pausing to see if you would stop him or protest. When you didn’t, he helped you pull the fabric up your thighs, glancing down when he saw a glimpse of bright fabric. “Blue lace, huh? I like it.”

All you did was stare into his eyes, letting him maneuver your hand underneath the practically sheer fabric. He pulled his hand out and just laid it on top of yours through the lace.

“Tell me your name.” He waited for you to stutter it out before repeating it, wrapping his lips around it sensually in a way no one ever had before. “I could moan that. Fuck, I’d like to hear you moan my name like a prayer.”

You couldn’t help yourself as your eyes fluttered shut and you began stroking over your clit, giving into the sensation that was begging you to touch yourself.

Max just kept his hand on top of yours, letting them move together, his eye flickering between your face and what you were doing between your legs. “Isn’t that better? What are you thinking about?”

“Your tongue.” You were too turned on to care, letting out a little moan when you opened your eyes and saw the way he was staring at you.

“And I didn’t even tell you the whole story!” He laughed, bringing his free hand down to playfully slap your thigh. “I bet you’d like to know what I did when my parents and their friends walked in, huh? Go ahead, ask me.”

“What did...what did you do?” You tried your best to focus on him, now letting him control the movements of your hand through your panties.

He shifted a bit so he could lean in closer to you, his eyes roaming from your face, down your neck, over your breasts, until they landed between your legs. “I fucked my tongue into her until she came all over herself in front of everyone.”

The whine you let out was exactly what he wanted and he chuckled when you tried to move your hand faster than he was allowing.

“Patience is a virtue. Do you want to feel my tongue?” He raised an eyebrow when you didn’t answer him at first, making you grind your fingers against your clit a little harder. “It’s okay to say yes.”

“Yes,” you gasped out and he smirked, pulling his hand away and taking hold of your wrist to make you stop touching yourself.

“Now, I know you learned patience. You’re such a stickler for rules, aren’t you?” He pulled your hand up to kiss your glistening fingers, letting his tongue poke out to kitten lick them every so often. “I want you to stand up for me. Take off your panties, go up and put them on the altar, then come back here. You’re gonna stand in front of me and take off your dress.”

Your chest was rising and falling slowly from your deep, steady breaths. You’d come to confess your sins, but it didn’t feel like a sin as you stood up and stepped out of your underwear.

You didn’t even realize how easily you were doing it until you’d approached the altar and set the bit of lace on it, turning around to make your way back to Max.

He was leaning back in the pew with his legs open wide, the bulge in his pants obvious when you came to practically stand between his knees.

You hesitated when your fingers came to the hem of your dress, realizing that you were going to be naked in front of this practical stranger in the middle of a church. It was both enticing and terrifying.

“Let me see. I’ve been staring at your tits since you walked in anyway.” He said it so casually it was somehow almost sexier than if he’d been flirtatious.

Hesitating for just a moment longer, you pulled your dress off before you could convince yourself not to, leaving yourself entirely bare. Max’s eyes darkened as he slowly looked over every visible inch of you.

You grew nervous when he didn’t say anything, shifting on your feet and biting your lip as you stared at the floor.

When he was still silent, you slowly looked up at him, fearing a look of disgust.

But you found him staring right at you with eyes full of lust and he slowly said, “I’d abandon the church for that.”

“Oh.” You didn’t know what to say to something like that, just letting out a shaky breath as you felt yourself grow wetter.

“Sit down. Open your legs wide.” He stood up, waiting for you to take his place on the pew before he knelt between your legs. “Has anyone ever done this before?”

“No, Father. I only had sex once, when I was a teenager...and it wasn’t really good.” Your answer seemed to please him, but he didn’t comment on it.

“Call me Max,” he said simply, then leaned forward and started running his tongue along your folds.

Just feeling his tongue between your legs had you squirming and gasping, but he wasn’t paying attention to your clit yet. He’d dip his tongue right near it before skipping over it, pressing teasing little kisses against you.

Having never been eaten out before, you didn’t think to rush him or beg him; you were oversensitized from a lack of proper touch, so this was doing a lot for you.

He decided to be nice mostly for the purpose of rocking your world, and he started to flick at your clit with the tip of his tongue.

That had your hips lifting off the pew, a cry leaving your lips as he started tracing little circles over the sensitive area. “Oh, fuck, Max…”

He took hold of your thighs to pin you back down to the seat, pressing his tongue flat against you and dragging it slowly up over your clit. The movement had your jaw dropping open in pure ecstasy and the ensuing vibrations from his soft chuckle made you release a moan.

You’d never felt anything so amazing in your entire life even when you would give in and touch yourself, and you couldn’t believe how long you’d gone without feeling something this wonderful.

“Would you use your tongue inside me? Like the girl?” Your request earned you another slap to the thigh as Max pulled away, his lips shining.

“I gotta say, you know your manners!” He grinned, keeping his eyes on you as he leaned down and slowly began fucking into you with his tongue.

You were silent at first as the new sensation took over, before you let out a whine and started breathing a little shakily. “Oh, God!”

Max mumbled a reminder of what you could call him into your cunt, thrusting his tongue a little faster and nudging his nose against your clit.

He kept going at it until he felt your walls starting to flutter around his tongue and he pulled back, smirking at the almost hurt look on your face.

“You wanna see what good sex is like?” He cupped your face when you nodded, moving to kiss you passionately.

You kissed him back eagerly and stared at him dreamily as he pulled you to your feet, letting him turn you around. He guided you to bend over with your hands gripping the back of the pew, seeing that you were steady before he pulled back to admire your ass.

He ran a hand over the soft skin, undoing his pants with the other as he kept trailing down until he was stroking through your slit. “It hurt the first time, huh?”

“Yeah, and he...released his seed after a couple thrusts then left…” You admitted this with a bit of shame, pressing your fingers into the wood.

“Came. He came after a couple thrusts.” Your gentle way of putting it made him smirk, but he let out a moan when he pressed his tip to your wet folds. “This one’s not gonna hurt and you can bet your sweet ass that you’re gonna come first.”

“He came,” you repeated, eyes fluttering shut with a moan at the feeling of him starting to push into you; there was some pressure, but he was right about it not hurting like the other time.

“God, you’re tight…” He practically growled, going slow so you could adjust to the way he was stretching you open.

You folded your arms on the back of the pew and laid your head on them, breathing deeply as he pushed himself inside you as far as he could. He moved one hand to your right hip and the other stroked up your back.

“How’s that?” Your answer was a pitiful, little groan so he thrust his hips a little. “Come on. Use your words.”

“Good, but I feel like I want you to move…” It was so nice to feel full and you wanted friction to go with it.

“Then get back up.”

You forced yourself back up onto your hands and turned your head to look at him over your shoulder.

He raised an eyebrow, watching your eyes darken as he pulled out before quickly thrusting back into you. It was hard enough that you let out a yelp and were rocked forward a bit, having to tighten your grip on the pew so you didn’t face plant on it.

“Oh, God!” You cried, arching back into him.

“Okay, fine, you can call me that and Max.” He rolled his eyes playfully as he found a steady pace against you, loving the way you practically bounced with each thrust.

You were too gone to even acknowledge what he said, and he really didn’t mind since that meant he was turning you on. He slid a hand underneath you so he could rub at your clit, angling his thrusts to stroke over your G spot.

He was trying to keep it together, but you were sexy, and so wet, and so fucking into it that he couldn’t help the noises you were pulling out of him; every whine, every moan, was worth being able to fuck into your tight, wet pussy in the middle of the fucking church.

He could feel your walls fluttering around his cock already since you were so wound up in general and worked up from his mouth, and like hell he was gonna deny you this time.

The thought of you squeezing down on his cock encouraged him to move faster, the sound of his hips slapping into your ass echoing through the sanctuary.

“Max! I’m—I’m—” Your orgasm was too powerful for you to even warn him about, only able to let out a cry as you clenched tight around him.

“Holy shit.” He hissed at the way your cunt gripped him like a fucking vice, the way he felt you squirt all over yourself and his dick.

He could feel it dripping down your thighs and his, spurring him on further as he easily thrust into you.

The sound of your wet cunt filling the room was even better and he let himself get completely lost in you, grunting and whining at how good you felt.

“Oh, God. Oh, God!” Maybe he was doing that part a bit on purpose, but he had no choice but to let his hips lose their rhythm as he just focused on seeking out his orgasm. “Fuck. Tell me where to come, now.”

You didn’t answer at first as you were still coming down from your orgasm. He quickly started rubbing your sensitive clit again to grab your attention and you gasped, “Inside me, please.”

He wanted to fall to his knees and fucking worship you for that, leaning down to press a kiss between your shoulder blades before he stood up to drive into you desperately. It only took a few more thrusts before he was shoving himself into you as deeply as he could, letting out a loud, long groan as he spilled his load into you.

The two of you stayed like that for a second, both panting, both with your eyes shut tightly.

But Max still wanted to fall to his knees in worship.

He regrettably pulled out of you and moved to kneel down, holding onto your ass to keep you still as he leaned in, immediately lapping the mixture of his and your cum from your cunt.

You let out a whimper so pretty that he could’ve gotten hard again if it was possible. He just focused on cleaning you up with his tongue, licking into your cunt until he was satisfied with his work.

He enjoyed a good eyeful of your pussy and ass and decided he wanted to inspect you more in the future, moving to his feet.

“Your sins are absolved.” His words were followed by a slap to your ass before he tucked himself back into his pants.

You moaned and stood up fully, turning to see that he was holding your dress out to you. Part of you wanted to ask if that was it, craving more despite how much he’d just offered you, but you stayed silent and put your dress back on.

You walked up to the altar when he just stared at you, grabbing your panties off and moving to step into them. There was a tap on your shoulder before you could and you turned to face Max, who was now holding a collection plate and grinning mischievously.

“We’re collecting if you want to help the church. I, for one, would love to put those on my face later and jack off.”

You gaped at him for a moment before slowly smiling and laughing softly, dropping the lace into the collection plate. “I should probably go…”

He nodded, but put his free hand on the side of your face and guided you into a deep kiss, licking into your mouth with remnants of cum on his tongue. It made you moan and he was honestly fucking surprised you didn’t have your own cult of people begging to have you.

“Come back. Just ask for me.” He smirked at your dazed nod and kissed you again before slapping your ass, nudging you up the aisle.

You walked to the door with a bit of a gap between your thighs, finding that the door didn’t seem as heavy as before. You glanced at him over your shoulder before walking out and letting the oak shut behind you.

Max just smirked to himself and chuckled, both satisfied and proud. He looked to the side of the room when he heard a creak, smile not faltering in the slightest even as an older, enraged-looking priest stepped out of the confessional booth. “Hey, pops.”

“Father Phillips, this is unacceptable.” He was red in the face from anger or perhaps something else.

“Is that a crucifix in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?” Max’s jovial expression did twitch a little bit when the priest let out a growl, and he slowly slid back a step and took your underwear out of the collection plate. “She needed me, buddy! What was I supposed to do, let her walk around all wound up?”

“You weren’t supposed to fornicate with a parishioner in the middle of the fuck—” He immediately stopped his crass words when the other side of the confessional opened and out stepped a small, elderly woman.

Max had honestly forgotten she was in there, but raised his eyebrows in surprise when he noticed the way she was eyeing him.

It was probably the wink he sent her that took him from probably exiled to definitely exiled, based on the way the head priest cried,

“Get out!”

#max phillips x reader #max phillips imagine #max phillips fic #bloodsucking bastards imagine

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prompts-of-a-dreamer · 3 years

Text

His Lies

Erwin Smith x Fem!Reader

You’ve been married to Erwin for some joyful time, eager to have a child and broaden the family. However…

Tags: Spoilers for S1-S3, Angst, Hurt, Pregnancy, Lemon

Words: 1.2k

A/N: This is my first angst drabble!

Pants and heavy breathing filled the bedroom, growing quieter as the sounds of the bedposts hitting the wall and hip thrusting had come to a halt. Your knees gave out minutes ago, now only being supported by your husband’s firm hand lifting your hip.

You’d lost count on how many times you had climaxed, senses and memories growing fuzzy from hours of play. You collapsed onto the sheets as Erwin rubbed your back. He has also released inside you a couple of times, leaving you full of his seed, too full, even, as it was overflowing and dripping out your pussy.

As he pulled out, the gush of sperm spilled also, leaving him displeased and pushing them back in with his fingers. After he was satisfied, he lowered himself and kissed you on the nape lovingly.

“Are you alright, my dear?”

“Mm-hm,” you nodded weakly with your head on a pillow, muttering under your breath, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he said as he got up and began to clean the mess.

The two of you had been trying for a child for some time, feeling that you both were ready for the responsibility. That wish, however, had not yet been granted upon, leaving you in tears one time because of it, but Erwin was insistent.

His blue eyes shone with thrill when you told him you were pregnant the next week. He grabbed you by the waist and pulled you in, enveloping you into a bear hug. You couldn’t see his face, but you knew he was happy, maybe even in tears.

“I knew this’d happen. You’d be such a great mommy, and I’ll never leave your side.”

“Erwin,” you chuckled. “Thanks, but you have a job.”

“I’ll still be there for you. I can’t wait for them to be born, and teach them everything I know,” he tightened his hug. “I love both of you.”

The months passed, not only with your baby bump growing, but with surprising advancements of the survey corps. News spread like wildfire of the Jaeger boy who plugged Wall Rose and later fought the Female Titan, leaving the interior in pieces and Erwin disappearing for weeks. Each time he got home he kissed you and made sure of your comfort, then talked about the revelations the survey corps had made and his theories. You always enjoyed listening to him, feeling as if his wit could pour down onto you. Each revelation was baffling, and at times brought more questions than answers. But the worst one was when your husband came home missing an arm. That was the first flag his job as a commander had put up, striking you with terror of the dangers he’s always gambled his life onto.

But of course, you had to be strong for him. That night, you wrapped a blanket around the two-three of you- and cuddled with him after so many nights of worry, wondering if your husband had survived the expedition. The news came late to you that he’d been tortured by the Military Police. It was heart crushing, but he looked at you and smiled, saying that he was one step closer towards the truth, after overthrowing the corrupt government.

“It’s okay,” he smiled. “If it meant our girl would be born with no mysteries left to crack, no more lies to uncover.”

You shook your head sternly. “Or boy.”

“It’s a suggestion.”

He held your hand and said, “We’ll be there for them, you know? We’ll see them laugh and cry. We’ll send them to their first day of school. And if it’d be a ‘her’... I’d walk her down the aisle, one day.”

After a couple weeks, you began to feel heavy and struggled doing daily things. Erwin was busy with plans and advancements of, well, his career, but he always made time for you, spending more time at home than usual, kissing your tummy and talking to the baby as if it could hear him, leaping in joy whenever you said there was a kick. You wondered if he was overwhelmed with everything happening.

Doctor checkups began and became more regular as you were close to labor. The lack of technology and science at the time meant the doctors could not predict the exact due date, but they can have a pretty accurate guess. They advised you to stay at the hospital for two weeks in case of contractions.

Erwin always made time to visit you at the hospital during nighttime, managing his time quite well between work and family. He gave his all to comfort you as the time grows nearer, worrying each passing day if the contractions would come.

But during your labor, it was a shame he was at work, too far to reach. You had to endure the pain, the burn, the stretch alone, with only doctors and nurses around you, repeating the same orders over and over again.

“Breathe, push, breathe, push.”

It was torture. Your back and lower abdomen ached, the stretch burned and pressured your pelvis. Controlling yourself not to scream and instead, take deep breaths was near impossible given the growing ache. As if the physical torment wasn’t enough, to top it off, you had no one to give you emotional comfort and support at the time, not even your husband. Perhaps it would’ve been less excruciating had he been there, giving you a hand to squeeze mercilessly.

The tears of the tiny baby helped you forget the pain after it was pushed out of your uterus. You cradled him in your arms after he was wrapped in a blanket. The prospect of being a mother, the dream you’ve always had in the back of your mind for years, was relieving, joyful, and sad at the same time. You held your baby close as if it was the most important thing to you, and it was, and it always will be.

“Do you want to name it now, ma’am?” one of the doctors asked you.

“No… not until my husband comes.”

“We’ve sent for his office, he should be here as soon as the message gets to him.”

The doctors left the room after everything was set, leaving you alone with your son. Tears of joy streamed down your face as you held him close, kissing the little face and hands gently as you waited for Erwin, unable to contain your joy, not knowing how you would phrase the words to break the news to him.

You recalled the last time you saw your husband. It was just yesterday, the night before your labor.

That one particular night¸ as always, Erwin had sat next to you by the hospital bed. He held your hand, listening to you talk about your day at the hospital, how bored you were, and how you wished the baby would come sooner so that you could get out and get on with your life.

“What do you think we should name it?” you asked him.

“You carried her for nine months, you should name her,” he replied.

“I carried him for nine months, the least you could do, my love, is save me the trouble of thinking about names.”

He chuckles, listing some names he’d thought of and the meaning and philosophy behind them. His voice was dreamy, and you were really grateful to be able to hear that voice almost every day since you were married. The night stirred, and you began to yawn.

“Are you staying here for the night?” you asked him.

He froze quite still for a second.

“…No.”

The answer was never shocking, but also never failed to disappoint you. It was engraved onto your brain that ‘no’ meant he had an expedition to go on to. It was hard, and almost crazy that this had to happen in an interval so near to your still unpredicted labor.

“We’re retaking Wall Maria tomorrow,” he said.

If only you'd known what that meant.

#erwin #erwin smith #erwin x reader #erwin smith x reader #erwin angst #erwin smith angst #erwin x reader angst #erwin smith x reader angst #erwin drabble #aot #snk #attack on titan #angst

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sunfleurry · 3 years

Text

Fires and Flames

Warnings: Smut, language, & alcohol.

Disclaimer: I write stories and use Harry Styles as a face claim. In no way shape or form does my writing reflect how I perceive the actual Harry to be. These are my characters, the face is just a bonus!

I should’ve left the minute I saw the look in his eyes when I told him. I was laying with my head on his chest, my bare skin sticking to his with the sheen of sweat covering our bodies. His fingers were lightly tracing the length of my spine as we caught our breaths in the quiet of the night under the lavish chandelier he had splurged on for his bedroom. I knew he could feel my heart rate speed up as my mind fought the urge to tell him, just tell him how I felt—how I still feel—before the courage I had would slip away. So, I did.

“I love you.”

If the room wasn’t quiet before, it was quiet now as his fingers stilled and we both stopped breathing. In my case, it was because I wanted to put all my focus on his response, his reaction, anything. In his case, well, I didn’t know why he did that. I thought it was from pure shock of hearing me say it for the first time, but deep down, I knew it was because of a deeper reason. A reason that would only be the downfall of what was once considered “us.” And I saw it coming the moment we met.

________________

My friend Vi was yelling something in my ear but I could barely hear her over the loud music, so I simply nodded. She looked at me weird and I realized that nod may have been the wrong response.

“I can’t hear anything you’re saying,” I yelled.

She leaned over and cupped her hands around my ear and proceeded to loudly repeat what she said. “That guy has been staring at you since we got here.”

“Who?”

She pointed at the bar and I followed her finger until I spotted a man in his mid-twenties who was alone, nursing a cup of God knows what. When we made eye contact, he nodded his head in acknowledgement then took a sip of his drink.

He was cute.

“Should I go talk to him?” I asked Vi.

“Are you kidding me? If you don’t I will.”

I laughed. She had a point. He was handsome, what with his brown hair that curled slightly around his ears and forehead, or the tattoos that littered his arms. I eyed his clothing and wondered if there were more underneath.

Straightening myself, I awkwardly started walking towards him, extra cautious of my ankles as I hoped my heels wouldn’t betray me in front of the handsome stranger. Seeing me approach, he set his glass on the counter, and watched me make my way over. I was getting self-conscious under his gaze, but I kept my head held high until finally I was standing right in front of him.

“Are you going to ask for my number or are you going to keep staring at me all night?” My words exuded the confidence I was not feeling on the inside.

His lips twitched, the corners turning upwards. It was barely noticeable, and I had to rip my eyes away from his gorgeous green ones to see it. “How about we skip all of that and go straight to mine.”

I laughed in disbelief. “No thank you.”

The man nodded in understanding, then turned back to his glass.

I don’t know why I didn’t leave him alone after that. Why was he here all alone? I asked him just that.

He slowly turned his body towards me before looking away a moment later. “Can’t a man go out for a drink on his own? Maybe I like my own company.”

“You don’t seem to be having a fun time.” I was overstepping it. Who was I to make assumptions about a stranger?

He sighed and looked down at his drink. I decided to sit next to him. “What’s your name?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

I rolled my eyes. Well, I tried. I put my palms on the counter to lift myself up when a ringed hand covered my own.

“It’s Harry,” he said.

I studied his face, trying to understand what exactly was going on inside his head. He had the eyes of a boy trying his best to make up for a mistake he didn’t know he made. He almost seemed desperate for me to forgive his aloofness. It was as if he was just learning how to be social for the first time.

I smiled and replied with my own name.

________________

Harry didn’t say anything for the longest thirty seconds of my life. I lifted my head to peer at him, trying to gauge what he was thinking. He was frowning lightly, his gaze fixed on my face but not my eyes. He seemed to be frozen on the outside, but I knew that his thoughts were running a mile a minute–it’s what he does. He’s an overthinker, and that moment was not different from all the other moments he had to stop and think about people’s intentions towards him.

I would be lying if I said the fact that he had to question my confession didn’t sting, or that the look in his eyes was nothing of what I wanted to see. I wanted to see relief, happiness, contentment. But all I saw was nothing. Emptiness.

Finally, he opened his mouth, and I stupidly felt a surge of hope, but then he closed it without a sound—and my hope deflated.

I leaned over and softly brushed my lips to his cheek. “It’s okay,” I whispered before I started detaching myself from him. I wanted to cry but not in front of him. Instead, with a heavy lump in my throat and tears threatening to spill, I found my panties on the floor and slipped them on, then threw his button up over my shoulders.

I heard rustling behind me, then my name sounding from his mouth stopped me at the doorway to his bathroom.

I turned around and he winced. I imagined it was because the emotion I’ve always been bad at hiding was clear as day on my face. It’s something I struggled with since I was a child and still try to work on to this day.

He was sat up now, the blanket covering his lower half, his back slightly curved. He looked at me with a pained face. “I don’t–”

“I know,” I sighed before concealing myself completely from his view by finally closing the door behind me and letting out a large breath. I clutched at the fabric covering my chest, as if I was holding in my aching heart, my tears spilling, one by one. I dropped my head in my hands to stifle my sobs, not wanting him to hear how much he affected me. I’m not sure why I thought that would work, when not two minutes ago I told him I loved him.

________________

That night, we ended up in my bed together.

“Yes,” I gasped, “harder.”

He fucked me like I’d never been fucked before. He was rough the way I liked it–he quickly learned how to push my buttons.

I was on my knees, my face pressed into the mattress as he took me the way he wanted to. My hands clenched around the sheets at a particular hard thrust and he groaned when I tensed around him. I gasped when he pulled out but then he flipped me over on my back. I smiled as he got on top of me, his arms caging my head, before he entered me once again.

I was mesmerized by the intensity in his eyes as he stole pleasure from my body. I wrapped my legs around his hips as did my arms around his shoulders to bring him closer to me. I welcomed his comforting weight on top of me.

I carded my fingers through his hair and when he moved his gaze from my breasts to my face, I couldn’t resist but lift my head and connect our lips. Upon realizing what I did, I quickly pulled away and opened my mouth to apologize profusely.

“I told you not to kiss me,” he panted as he pulled out of me.

“I know I’m sorry! I don’t know what got over me, I was just in the moment.”

He rolled off and slumped on the bed beside me, the both of us breathing hard. He was quiet, I didn’t know if he was expecting me to say anything else or if he was planning on leaving.

I swallowed and stared up at the ceiling feeling guilty. One of the first things he had told me when when we got in the cab was not to kiss him. I thought it was a weird request, and I was kind of bummed, but I respected it. I tried to at least.

I was about to start another wave of apologies, but I didn’t have time to think about what was happening before Harry leaned his weight on his elbow to slot his lips with mine. I didn’t think twice as I kissed him back, brushing away the initial shock. I realized at that moment that I liked kissing him. A lot.

With his lips still moving with mine, he got back on top of me, and finished what he started.

________________

After a moment of trying to control my breathing, I slipped off what little clothing I had on and climbed into the shower. The steamy water hitting my body helped me relax and my mood lifted slightly as I washed and soaped my skin and hair. Watching the water fall down the drain, I imagined it to be my feelings, one by one, disappearing into the ground and out of sight.

I faintly heard the bathroom door open, then his footsteps, and finally the shower door. Harry climbed in behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist, and pulled me closer, holding me against him. His damp curls tickled my cheek when he leaned forward and kissed my neck twice, before bringing his lips up to my ear.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

I swallowed the lump that had once again formed in my throat. I brought my hand to my stomach where his arms were and entwined our fingers. “I’m not taking it back. I meant it.”

He kissed my skin again. “I know.”

I rolled my lips inward as I nodded my head once, then turned around, his arms still encircling my body. I reached up and gently held his face to simply lock eyes with him. I secretly cursed him for making my heart stutter just by looking at him, at those eyes that say so much, yet nothing all at once. I’d always been captivated by them, not just by their striking green colour, but the stories they hid. Every day, I tried so hard to read him, understand what he was thinking about, what he was worrying about, what he was remembering–I even asked him at times, “what are you thinking about?” or “what is it?” He’d always just shrug, smile and kiss me to make me forget. But I never forgot.

________________

It wasn’t the first time this happened. I was in the kitchen washing the dishes and he was in his room. I was drying my hands when suddenly I heard him call out my name. The tone of his voice had me drop the towel on the floor and hurry towards his bedroom. He was leaning over his dresser, an arm on the top keeping him upright as he took shallow breaths.

“Oh, Harry,” I whispered as I rushed to his side.

I carefully led him to his bed to have him sit down. “Breathe with me,” I said, gently.

His eyes were wild as he tried to comply. I breathed calmly and grabbed his hand, urging him to copy me. The contact seemed to help as he started to calm down.

“Now count with me,” I said. “We’re going to get through this.”

After a while, his breathing finally eased up, and tears welled in his eyes but didn’t fall.

“Come here,” I said as I helped him lay down. I crawled behind him and tangled our legs together while I hugged his back to my chest. I kissed his hair as I worked on keeping my breathing steady, making sure he was still doing the same.

“Don’t ever leave me,” he croaked.

“I’m right here,” I whispered into his hair.

“I need you.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

________________

He let go of me when I grabbed the shampoo. I squeezed some onto my palm as he sat on the protruding ledge in the shower, making it easier for me to reach his hair. One thing I knew about Harry was that he loved it when I washed his hair. I didn’t mind, because it gave me an excuse to run my hands through it, another feature to admire of the man I fell in love with. I could feel my eyes stinging once again and this time I let the tears fall freely. He was peering up at me as I lathered his hair with my fingertips, making sure I soaped his roots thoroughly. I hoped my tears were blending into the water–that he didn’t know I was crying–but then his face fell in concern.

“Hey,” he slid his hands behind my thighs to urge me closer. “Come here.”

That did it for me. A sob clawed its way out of my throat, and Harry quickly sat me on his lap as I buried my face into his neck and let everything I was holding in escape. I felt him lean forward before the water was shut off and we were left in the steam of the shower as I proceeded to break in his arms.

________________

“What the fuck is this, Harry?” I was seething.

“It’s not what it looks like.”

“Of course it’s what it looks like!” I yelled as I shoved the phone in his face.

“They’re just friends,” he sighed.

Tears of frustration welled up as I tried to grasp at this whole mess. “You left, Harry. Without a fucking word and days later I find pictures of you at some beach resort with a random girl all over you?”

He held his hands up. “We were just dancing, I promise.”

I pulled at the roots in my hair. “You don’t get it! Forget what you were doing at that exact moment, Harry! I visit you every day because I care about you and I get worried about you and I want to make sure you’re okay. Then one day you don’t answer the door and excuse me for thinking of the worst case scenario! You don’t answer my calls or my texts, hell, I even fucking emailed you, only to find out days later via Instagram that you were outside of the fucking country having the time of your life?!”

I fell back on the couch feeling nothing but raw anger and hurt as I waited for him to say something.

He got on his knees in front of me but I moved my head out of the way when he tried to cup my face. “Don’t touch me.”

“Baby–”

I balled my hands into fists. “Don’t call me that, I don’t want to hear you calling me that right now.”

“Fine, fine,” he cried. He hugged my legs and laid his head on my knees. “I’m so sorry. You may not believe me but I thought of you every day while I was gone.”

I scoffed at that and crossed my arms over my chest, making sure I didn't touch him. I quickly wiped at the wetness on my cheek, not wanting him to see that I am not only mad, but also sad and hurt. “Disrespect me one more time and we’re over, Harry.”

His head snapped up and panic took over his features. “No, please. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

I started crying because everything was too much for me. He did something that had me panicking for days.

“I don’t deserve you,” he continued.

“This isn’t the first time you do this, Harry,” I sniffled. He got off the floor and pulled me into his arms as he laid back on the couch.

“I know and I am so sorry. I don’t know what came over me. Sometimes I get so overwhelmed, and I feel like I’m in a box, like my surroundings are closing in. It makes me want to escape, it’s animalistic, I feel like I’m going crazy. At that moment, as if someone was listening to my prayers to make it go away, my friend called me asking me if I wanted to go on a short getaway with him and some other people. I said yes and out of sheer desperation, booked a flight right away.”

“And you didn’t even think of me.”

He held me tight. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t know what I was thinking. It was like I blacked out. Again, I am so sorry.”

I let out a long, exhausted breath. I knew what I was getting myself into when I met Harry yet I still went through with it. He was a sad man, a broken man and I still believed he would be the perfect boyfriend. “It’s okay,” I rubbed his chest. “It’s okay.”

As we both laid there in each other’s arms, I couldn’t help but think, I shouldn’t have been comforting him. He was supposed to be comforting me.

________________

“Please don’t cry,” I heard him say as he brushed back my wet hair, the majority of it sticking to my neck. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

I continued to cry into his neck, not believing how much I had bottled up until that moment. Suddenly I felt wet droplets soak my skin, and I knew it wasn’t the water.

A sniffle escaped Harry and it confirmed my suspicions as he hugged me closer and cried with me. “I don’t deserve you,” he whispered brokenly.

I closed my eyes, as we held each other tightly, and didn’t deny it. He was right, I thought sadly, he didn’t deserve me. He put me through hell, and I let him. I naively believed that I could change him, make him feel better–fix him. I wanted to laugh at myself. How could I have been so stupid? He pushed me away too many times to count, yet I stubbornly stayed. Because I loved him. I let myself fall in love with him. And now we’re both facing the heartbreak that’s been looming over our relationship–or whatever it was–since the start.

When I reluctantly leaned back to look at him, I wanted to break down all over again. I’d never seen him cry, and it was a sight I wished I could unsee because his sadness felt like a stab in my heart. I always knew he was a sad man but I’d never seen it on his face so clearly. I saw it through his actions, through his words, but seeing the red eyes, the lowered brows, the downturned lips that I thought about every day, and the tears that littered his red cheeks made me wish I was some magical being who can erase the broken pieces of him.

His gaze followed the movement of my throat as I swallowed then it lifted back up to my own. It was like we were having a silent conversation with our eyes–like we were both dreading opening our mouths and actually sounding out the words that would be the end of us. Then his hand trailed up my skin and the pressure of it on the back of my head encouraged me to lean forward and attach my lips to his.

________________

I smiled brightly as I spotted Harry sitting on a park bench reading a book. He looked so handsome in his tortoise shell glasses and messy hair. As if sensing my presence, he looked up and the smile that graced his features made me want to melt in a puddle. That smile. All for me, I thought giddily as I hurried my pace, eager to be in his arms.

Then, I felt a tug on my skirt and fingers brushing the skin on my thighs. My eyes widened as I looked at the man who had just walked by me and didn’t even look back. When I snapped my gaze to Harry, he was already marching towards the man who had touched me, completely ignoring my pleas to let it go.

“Are you okay?” He asked, eyes still glaring at the man who was now talking to a woman ten metres away.

“I’m fine, Harry,” I said warily, putting my hands on his chest.

“That fucking entitled prick,” he said, anger boiling inside him.

“It’s all good, calm down.”

“Fuck this,” he brushed my hands off and stomped towards the man. The latter barely got a look at him before my boyfriend’s fist connected with his face.

The woman and I let out a short scream. I ran towards Harry, pulling his shoulders to get him off the stranger who was now on the floor, flimsily blocking the onslaught of Harry’s hits to his face.

“Harry! Stop!”

He didn’t seem to hear me as he didn’t let up. I looked around for help, but everyone seemed happy to watch two men fight. I gasped when the man was able to hit Harry in the jaw. There was no room for careful consideration before I flung myself towards the two men with the intention of throwing myself in between them before someone grabbed me by the waist.

“Get off me!” I yelled at the boy who was holding me back but he only laughed.

I was beyond exasperated and annoyed. “Harry, I swear to God if you don’t stop I will turn around and never look back.”

He seemed to hear that at least. The creep put me down, thankfully before Harry saw.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

________________

I poured every emotion into the kiss. I held his head in my hands as our lips moved together in sync, like they always did. I was telling him I loved him again with that kiss. He nudged my leg and I complied with his silent request to bring it over his lap to straddle him.

He deepened the kiss as his arms snaked around my waist. He’d never kissed me like that, like he was desperately trying to make me understand who he was and why he was the way he was. He kissed me with love and comfort, happiness and fulfillment, but also with sadness and regret, sorrow and dejection.

I was growing tired of my tears but they seemed to be here to stay as my eyes started watering again. “I don’t know how I’ll live after this,” I choked but he only shook his head as he brushed a piece of my hair behind my ear.

“You are the most amazing person I’ve ever met. Listen to me,” he pleaded when I looked down, unable to hold eye contact. He nudged my chin up to lock eyes once again. “You are the light of my life. And I’m begging you,” he whispered, his breath fanning my lips, “don’t let me be the reason that light goes out. I’ve done enough damage, don’t let me do any more.”

________________

I loved him like this. Relaxed, no creases between his eyebrows, a smile on his face. We were spending the afternoon at my place–talking and laughing about stupid things, the wine we drank making us even more giggly.

We were progressing with our relationship and I was somewhat satisfied with it. I knew it would be tough to get him to open up, but slowly and surely, he’d been getting much more comfortable around me–enough to tell me more about himself. Not his secrets of course, the ones that left him the broken man he is, but he was definitely becoming more affectionate. He was letting me in. I had seen pictures of his brothers and sisters and his mother and father around the house but every time I asked about them, he’d shut down.

I asked him again another time and he gave me a little more.

“They’re not around anymore.”

That could mean so many different things, but I decided that was enough for now. I was satisfied with the fact that he was able to give me that sliver of information. Any progress was good progress.

“We’re all out of wine,” I pouted as I stared at the empty bottle on the coffee table, leaning back into the loveseat.

He chuckled. “There may or may not be an extra bottle in the kitchen.”

I jumped up and started making my way to the kitchen but as I passed by him, he intercepted me and I squealed as he left me to fall on his chest. “I hate you,” I laughed.

He kissed my nose, making me giggle. “No you don’t”

“No I don’t.”

“See?” He asked as his hand tickled my side.

I squirmed out of the way, an obnoxious laugh escaping me. “I need to get the wine.”

“I don’t want wine anymore,” Harry said, encouraging me to lay my head on him. “I have you now.”

I sighed in contentment and smiled as I listened to his heartbeat.

________________

“I love you.”

“Don’t,” he winced. “Please.”

I kissed him again and he responded without hesitation. This time, the kiss held more passion and fervour. It reminded me of the first time we had sex almost a year and a half ago, when it was all a rush and we couldn’t get enough of each other. I moaned when his tongue touched mine and he reached down to slip his fingers between my folds, the palm of his hand a constant pressure on my clit. I whined into his mouth when he inserted a finger inside, then two, and started carefully rubbing my inner walls. I reached down and grabbed his dick and stroked until I felt it start to harden in my hands.

“That’s enough,” I mumbled and reached down to stop his hand. I was already going to come.

“I’m sorry. I just assumed–”

“No,” I pressed my lips to his in a searing kiss. “That’s not what I meant.”

I ran my thumb over the tip of his length and he shuddered. “Are you sure?”

I smiled sadly and rested a hand on his cheek. “Yes.”

He helped me lean forward, letting me align his length with my centre before I started sinking down, and he slowly entered me in a way I never got used to. The delicious stretch always required a moment for me to adjust before I started moving. He tightened his hold on me when I started doing just that.

________________

“Harry,” I asked as I brushed his hair with my finger. We were sitting on the floor, my back to the couch as he sat between my legs. I had just helped him through another panic attack and there we were, fifteen minutes later still on the floor. My ass was getting numb but I didn’t want to get up until Harry was ready. “Have you ever considered therapy?”

He stiffened. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Let’s not talk about it.”

“But–”

He turned around and gave me a long look.

“Okay, fine,” I sighed.

He leaned over and kissed me. “Thank you.”

I said, “This isn’t over. I’m not letting this go.”

“I know,” he shook his head before making me lay down on the floor and trailing his lips across my chest. “Need you.”

I laughed and helped him undress me.

________________

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” I gasped as I started moving with the help of his hands on my hips.

The steam from our shower was already fading away, but the heat remained and paired with our movements, sweat coated our bodies, allowing us to move more easily against each other.

My knees were planted on either side of him on the ledge as he held me to him to prevent me falling backwards. Our lips never separated, moaning into each other’s mouths as we relished in the feeling we were experiencing for the last time. The thought made a sob escape my mouth and he squeezed my hips, pausing my movements.

“We can stop,” he mumbled sweetly, ducking his head to try and get me to look at him.

I shook my head. “I’m sorry, I’m fine,” my voice broke at the last syllable. Finally mustering up the courage to look at him, I only wanted to cry harder. He had tears falling, eyes red and sad, and I wished we could turn back time and fix every problem we had the way we were supposed to. I wished we were other people, in another lifetime, who had no issues and who knew how to make us work.

“Come here,” he said and I closed my eyes when his lips touched mine.

I started moving again and he whispered words of encouragement and praise.

Break-up sex was supposed to be quick and dirty. What we were doing right then was sheer torture. We were prolonging the pain, both too scared to face what reality we would face as soon as we were done.

________________

“Harry, we need to talk about this.”

It was another fight. About the same damn thing.

He snapped his head towards me.

“You can’t keep relying on me for your happiness.”

He frowned. “What does that even mean?”

“I mean you finally agreed to go to therapy which is great, but this is the fourth time you ‘forgot’ to go this month.”

“I don’t understand what you’re trying to say.”

I wanted to roll my eyes. Why out of all times, he chose then to act stupid? “Baby, if you would just talk to me, open up to me, I wouldn’t be after you about this but you won’t even tell me anything. Sometimes I sit back and think to myself, I know nothing about him. My own boyfriend.”

He scoffed. “You know plenty.”

I grew restless. “I know your name, I know where you work, I know your favourite drink–especially because you reach for it more than you should.”

He grit his teeth at the last statement but I stood by it. I continued, “I know your birthday, I know what car you drive.”

“What’s my favourite colour?”

“Orange. Harry, that means fuck all compared to what I am trying to tell you. I don’t know where you grew up, I don’t know any of your friends–”

“I told you why! They’re not good people!”

“Then why do you spend time with them? Tell me why!”

“I don’t need to tell you anything,” he snapped.

I decided the best response was to walk away, which was what I did. Fuck that, I couldn’t deal with him anymore.

“Don’t walk away from me!” He yelled and I could hear his footsteps catching up to mine.

That fight ended one of both ways all our fights ended. With me comforting him or sex.

________________

His arms wrapped tightly around me, holding me in place as he started rutting upwards. The moans I emitted told him he was hitting that sweet spot inside me with every thrust. I closed my eyes and rested my forehead on his as I let myself feel every inch of him as he got more rough by the second. I knew he was watching me but I couldn’t take it anymore–looking into his eyes hurt my heart, I could feel it break the longer I stared at him. For the first time since I met him, I let myself hide from him. I didn’t give him what he wanted, I didn’t keep my eyes open the way I knew he wanted. I stood my ground, kept my eyes closed despite the tears slipping past my lids, and selfishly let myself feel him for the last time.

My climax hit me out of nowhere and I jerked forward, clawing at his shoulders as he continued to pound into me. My moans echoed loudly in the closed shower stall as I continued to tense around him.

Harry groaned as he held my head in his hands and wiped my tears with his thumbs. I finally lost self control–I let my eyes meet his and saw grief, a look I had only seen once and that was when I asked him about his family. “Harry,” I breathed.

“Shhhhh,” he kissed me. “I’m okay. I’m only worried about you.”

I shook my head. “No, you—“

He kissed me again to shut me up. I reciprocated this time.

Suddenly he groaned as he thrusted a couple more times and I winced from the sensitivity down there. He tensed and burrowed his face in my neck allowing me to hold him close through his orgasm as he breathed hard and finally spilled into me. I didn’t want him to let go. I didn’t want this to be the end.

“I love you, Harry.”

He didn’t say anything.

I separated myself from him and he steadied me before I looked at him for the last time while wiping his wet cheeks. I couldn’t resist leaning down and giving him the softest of kisses.

“I don’t regret you.”

Then I left.

Part 2

A/N: HI BITCHES IM BACK AFTER A MUCH NEEDED MENTAL HEALTH BREAK <3 I missed you. I’m gonna be uploading my favourite fics that I deleted months ago along with my blog.

#harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one-shot #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst

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thedragonnerd · 3 years

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Fic: Love Languages

Headcanon suggested by a lovely anon, which spawned into a fic. Read on Ao3 or under the cut.

Words of affirmation

Receiving compliments or words of encouragement are not uncommon for Namaari. She has gone through life aiming to be the best at everything she does – the best leader, the best warrior, the best Princess – and along with her success come compliments on her fighting techniques, her decision-making skills, and even her ability to look formidable in her formal attire.

As royalty, people lavish her with praises when they see an opportunity to get into her good graces, despite the obvious lack of sincerity behind their words, and it tires her to deal with fawning citizens. She loves her people, but she’d rather they’d love her back truly; false words mean nothing.

Chief Virana does not give out compliments easily, and is often faster to critique than to encourage. Namaari pretends her mother’s approval is nothing more than something important to receive from her Chief, but in reality, she craves hearing soft words such as ‘well done, Morning Mist’, whenever she is lucky enough to have them bestowed upon her.

As she grows up, she decides that sweet words are nice to have, but ultimately unnecessary – nothing more than a nod of acknowledgement is needed, before one can place it aside and move on to more important things. And then Raya comes back into her life.

Raya, who can flirt endlessly with elaborate innuendos until Namaari rolls her eyes at her ridiculousness. Raya, who is quite happy to press herself closer than absolutely necessary in their sparring sessions, just to set out some unspoken physical challenge.

And yet, when it comes to providing a genuine compliment, Raya practically freezes.

‘I like…like your hair,’ she mumbles one day to Namaari, glancing off to the side in order to avoid making eye contact. Her cheeks are flushed bright red, even though earlier in the day she had made a lewd comment about a sword which didn’t even have her blinking.

For some reason, Raya’s lack of suaveness when it comes to providing true compliments delights Namaari, and she hoards each instance close to her heart, happy in the knowledge that every word spoken was genuine in its meaning.

In return, she starts to gift Raya with compliments of her own.

For Raya is not used to receiving compliments, at least not in a long time. Her Ba used to provide encouragement and compliments often, but that was many years ago, and now he hesitates to put them into words sometimes, unsure of how this new dynamic works when he’s looking at a grown-up daughter rather than a small child.

Namaari has no difficulty in sharing them though.

‘You look very beautiful today,’ she tells Raya softly one evening, when they are having dinner. Raya stammers out some incomprehensible response, and spends the rest of the meal staring down at her bowl, occasionally darting her eyes over to Namaari.

‘I love that hairstyle on you,’ Namaari says to her a few days later, watching as Raya braids her hair back with expert precision.

‘Umm…thanks?’ Raya squeaks.

‘Your techniques were excellent today,’ Namaari informs her after a sparring session. This time, Raya just nods, and clears her throat before trying to awkwardly change the subject. Namaari can still see the smile on her lips though.

Eventually, Raya becomes better at both giving and receiving words of affirmation. Namaari learns how true compliments can be more meaningful than expected.

It isn’t the most important aspect of their relationship, but they like to encourage each other all the same.

Acts of service

Raya sees how much of a burden Namaari perpetually takes onto her shoulders, in her duties for Fang. She is so focused on helping her people rebuild and expand, or going away on diplomatic missions to help form better relations with the other lands, that she forgets to take a moment to breath sometimes.

Raya wants to take some of her stress away, by helping her carry out some of her duties or at least be involved in organizing certain aspects of the expansion projects, but she discovers quickly that Namaari is somewhat of a perfectionist. It is almost more stressful for her to find herself out of the loop or uninformed about decisions, than it would be to allow her undertake the duties in the first place, and so Raya finds it more helpful to just back off from the work unless asked to provide support.

It’s also a way for Namaari to feel as if she is atoning for her past actions. Raya wishes she wouldn’t feel the need to do so, but it is something they’ve argued about before, and they always end up stuck in a perpetual loop.

One of the ways Raya can help however, is with her cooking.

Namaari is an awful cook (something Raya unfortunately discovers herself with one ill-fated meal), but she is fascinated by watching Raya conjure something up in the kitchen.

Gone are the days of living off jackfruit jerky; with so many fresh and interesting ingredients at her disposal, and with the occasional reminders from Ba when she is unsure about something, Raya makes a whole array of different foods over the months.

It’s one of the best ways of getting Namaari to relax, Raya finds. Every mealtime when Raya is behind the pot, Namaari will abandon whatever work she is doing, and will sit and watch Raya finish making the dishes. They’ll always eat it together, and for a short while, Raya can feel the stress lift free from Namaari as she laughs over Raya’s words and enjoys good food.

Gifts

The first gift Namaari ever gave Raya has almost become a symbol for their entire complicated history. It represents new friendship, betrayal, and after so many years…forgiveness and a fresh start.

Namaari gives it back to her not long after the return of Kumandra, before she can second-guess herself.

‘It was a gift,’ she says, half-expecting it to be thrown back in her face. But Raya runs her finger gently over the surface of the dragon pendant, and then sends her a small smile. The next day, Namaari sees it hanging around her neck once more.

Once they start dating properly, Namaari can’t get it out of her mind how much the gift seemed to mean to Raya, both times.

‘She still doesn’t have that many personal belongings,’ Namaari informs Sisu, as an explanation as to why she was forcing the dragon to accompany her around endless market stalls in Talon, looking for the perfect gift for Raya. ‘I figure it’s because she was on the move so much in life, she couldn’t carry a lot.’

Sisu makes an ‘mmm’ sound, clearly not buying her reasoning completely, but allows the topic to drop when she’s distracted by shiny objects at the next stall.

Namaari finds a small knife that can be strapped to a wrist and slipped up the sleeve. She knows how much Raya prefers to be carrying at least one weapon with her at all times, and this would be perfect for diplomatic meetings – subtle, and easy to hide. And indeed, Raya wears it continuously after receiving it as a gift.

On another visit to another market, this time in Spine, Namaari spies a comb with a beautifully carved handle.

‘For your hair,’ she says in an attempt to be casual, thrusting it awkwardly in Raya’s direction that evening. Raya loves it, and it is indeed used every night before bed to comb out her braids.

Every time Namaari has to travel on diplomatic missions, she now ensures that she brings back something small for Raya.

‘I love the gifts,’ Raya tells her one day. ‘But I love even more how it shows you’re thinking of me when you’re away.’

One evening, as they are getting ready for bed, a small golden ring drops out of Namaari’s pocket by mistake.

‘Is…is that my old hair band?’ Raya asks, peering over the side of the bed as Namaari scoops it up in a hurry. ‘I thought I’d lost that years ago.’

‘I found it,’ Namaari says defensively, clutching it tight in her fist. ‘I guess…I never asked you if you wanted it back?’

Raya shakes her head with a smile, but the following evening, she steps up behind Namaari, sliding her hand into her pocket. Namaari watches as she pulls out the hair band and threads it onto a small gold chain.

From then on, they both wear a gift from the other around their necks.

Physical touch

Sometimes, everything can become overwhelming, the past traumas so great that it seems suffocating. And in that darkness, sometimes the gentle touch of another is the only thing keeping the world grounded.

Raya goes six long years without receiving a hug. At the time, she doesn’t see it as a big deal – she’s grown up fast, and learnt that the world isn’t the welcoming place her father once hoped it could be. Even moreso, her Ba was the last one to hug her, and she doesn’t mind keeping it that way.

Now though, she finds comfort in the small touches. It’s in the featherlight way Namaari’s nose brushes against her neck as they curl up together in bed, waiting for the morning sun to rise. It’s in the gentle trail of Namaari’s fingers across her back, as they stand talking to others, and Namaari absentmindedly reaches out for her. It’s in the soft kiss against her temple, when Namaari has to go back to work after lunch.

Occasionally, she will need to be encompassed by that comfort, and in this moment, she will go and find Namaari, stepping closer until her forehead rests on her shoulder. No matter what she was previously doing, Namaari will pause everything, wrapping her arms tightly around Raya, and they stand there until Raya can feel as if she can breathe again.

Namaari has a habit of falling too far into her own mind sometimes. She is an outwardly composed and pragmatic individual, but internally, all sorts of doubts and guilt still plague her, and there are days where she can’t shake off the feeling that she isn’t doing enough in her life to atone for her past, or that she is a fraud who has no right in stepping up and trying to lead her people when her previous actions cost them so much.

It’s difficult for her to ask for help in these moments. Raya learns instead to notice the signs of a bad day, or whenever Namaari gets trapped into a downwards spiral, and she will take Namaari by the hands and sit them somewhere quiet.

There they can actually talk, and sometimes Namaari feels comfortable enough to share her fears. But the most important thing, Raya finds, is to slide an arm around her shoulders, pulling her in tight and peppering her cheek and bare shoulder with small kisses.

Raya refuses to let her go until she sees at least one small smile.

Quality time

In the early days of the relationship, there is still so much separation between the two of them. Raya is in Heart, helping her Ba welcome back everyone to their lands, fixing up the buildings, ensuring the harvest gets started…There are so many jobs to do, and Raya knows Namaari is undergoing the same issues back in Fang, coupled with an expansion of their kingdom.

On top of all of this, there are endless council meetings and diplomatic missions, so if it isn’t Namaari being busy with politics, it is Raya, much to her annoyance.

Whenever they do get to spend time together, they ensure no minute is wasted. They have meals together, and spar together, and find all sorts of random ways to entertain themselves. Namaari loves to go out in the evenings and watch the night sky, attempting to teach the constellations to Raya; but Raya decides that these constellations are ridiculous, and so they create their own. Raya meanwhile loves to go for hikes in the woods, dragging Namaari along to discover new plants and wildlife, and occasionally climbing the trees.

They both love to sit in bed next to each other, quietly reading their books, or discussing their day. Sometimes, Raya will lie sideways on the bed, her stomach across Namaari’s legs and her arms hanging over the edge, so she can carve pieces of wood into intricate shapes, with Namaari reads out loud for the both of them.

Even after several years, and living together permanently, Raya finds herself reflecting on the fact that she never gets bored as long as she’s with Namaari.

They are currently lying in a field somewhere in the depths of Heart land, enjoying the sun shining onto their faces and the grass tickling their skin. She lazily wiggles her hand until it makes contact with Namaari.

‘Dep la?’ Raya whispers, and Namaari grunts in response. ‘You don’t get bored with me, right?’

Namaari merely shuffles closer without even opening an eye, resting her cheek against Raya’s shoulder.

‘Don’t be stupid,’ she mumbles, and she’s curled up so close that Raya can feel the vibrations of her voice on her skin.

‘Didn’t think so,’ Raya says in satisfaction. They continue to enjoy the peace.

#rayaari #raya and the last dragon #raya and namaari #ratld #raya #namaari #rayaari fic #rayamaari #this was supposed to be a headcanon #but it all was just like 'hello must get out of the brain'#some fluff to keep you guys happy #while i work on the concept au angst

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princessbatears · 3 years

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I'm a storyteller both by trade and by hobby, and I understand a lot about how effective television storytelling works, in particular. My background has given me a different perspective than most people with regards to the finale, particularly what happens between Din and Grogu. Normally, I don’t get involved in fandom discussions, but I was encouraged to share my take on this. Spoilers below the cut in case I miss some tags, lol.

When I watched the episode this morning, I wasn't prepared for what happened. Like many of us, I expected a terrible cliffhanger or a neat conclusion like we got in the last season. Instead, Din encouraged his son to become a Jedi, leaving himself (and the rest of us) more than a little devastated. It was brutal. But also brilliant. Din and Grogu's individual and family arcs in this season came to a close in a way more beautiful than I could have expected. At the beginning of the season, Din kept Grogu at his side and protected him, but he was determined to pass him off to a Jedi. In part, this was because he believed it was Grogu's own good, but also because he wasn't ready to accept his fatherhood. We see this in the episode with Ahsoka. Even though he didn't want to say goodbye, he was willing to thrust Grogu upon her. When Ahsoka refused, Din was genuinely relieved and finally admitted to himself that he loved him and wanted him to stay a part of his life. That was further confirmed by the lengths he went to in order to get him back from Gideon.

Meanwhile, Grogu's gone through his own arc. We learned from Ahsoka that he hid his powers out of fear. We also learned that he's very afraid of being separated from Din, who he sees as his family. It's completely understandable. He's young and been through a lot. But that fear also makes it harder for him to train, so Ahsoka rejects him. Grogu himself continues to be a little reluctant to use his powers, needing encouragement from Din (unless it's to steal cookies). When he's captured, he fights the best he can to get away, but that fighting doesn't end up doing him much good because he can't control himself. It's my impression that, by the end of the season, Grogu's realized that he needs to be able to master his powers, not just to protect himself, but to protect Din, too. He's finally ready to step into his strength and become all that he can be, which is why he decides to go with Luke.

Din did not want Grogu to go. Everything in his being screamed that. He even say to Luke, "He doesn't want to go with you." However, when Luke explains what's going on, Din realizes that he must put Grogu's needs before his own. It's in Grogu's best interest to be nurtured in the ways of the Force, as he's always suspected, but now letting Grogu looks different than it did before. It wasn't Din rejecting his love for his son or pushing the responsibility of him onto someone else. He even did several things differently from when he tried to give Grogu to Ahsoka. First, he promises they'll see each other again. Personally, I don't think this is the end of them being together, even though Din says Grogu belongs with Luke (also more on that soon). Second, Din tells him not to be afraid. He wants Grogu to become confident in himself and all he can be. Third, he takes off his helmet to show his boy his face and let him touch him. While this is a huge sacrifice on his part because others also see his face, it is proof to Grogu that they are family and that they will always be family. Fourth, Din sets Grogu down on the floor and lets him walk to Luke. This is vitally important. In the past, he's tried to physically hand him over. This time, he lets Grogu make his own decision once and for all. Grogu walks over to look and asks to be picked up, indicating he truly wants to be trained. Din recognized him as an autonomous being with his own will, and respected and encouraged that, like a good father does. Was it easy? Absolutely not, but it was the right thing to do.

I'm not sure what Season 3 will look like as far as Din and Grogu's relationship goes. Maybe Grogu won't feature as prominently, maybe there will be a time jump, maybe something will happen and Luke will bring him back? I have no idea. None of us do. However, what I do know is that heart of the show is the relationship between Din and Grogu. I believe Filoni and Favreau know this, as does Disney. Grogu has made Disney actually relevant again, he's made them an insane amount of money, and I don't think they're going to let that cash cow go any time soon. So, everybody, please don't despair. It's going to be okay! ❤️

I'd also like to take a moment to discuss Luke. My feelings on this have evolved as I'm processed the episode over the last few hours. Initially, I wasn't very happy. I felt like a lot of people do. Why does it always have to be Skywalkers? Why couldn't it be somebody—anybody—else? Why did that have to do that weird CGI thing with his face that wigs me out? (That, admittedly, I'm still not a fan of, lol.) But with some time, I've realized that Luke makes sense. There's the inescapable fact that Star Wars is about the Skywalkers. They're the central characters of this universe. If Movies 6-9 hadn't been as godawful as they were, I think many of us wouldn't resent this fact so much. We're jaded, understandably. However, I don't believe it's fair to judge The Mandalorian's choice to include him based on other creators screwing him up in a future timeline. So far, Favreau and Filoni have been nothing but respectful of the Star Wars universe and its characters, and I'm choosing to trust them with this. But that aside, Luke is likely the only Jedi in the whole galaxy who would take Grogu as an Apprentice. Ahsoka didn't want him, too scarred by her own experiences and traumas. She also comes with the baggage the Temple placed upon its students, which was, if you have any "dark" qualities, you're untrainable. Meanwhile, in the original trilogy, Luke learned how to become a Jedi even though his legacy was those "dark" qualities. He overcame his own anger and fear and started new Jedi traditions. He's the perfect person at this point in his life to teach Grogu how to master his powers. He is obviously aware of how important Grogu is to Din and he'll take good care of him until the family can be reunited.

Personally, I loved this finale, especially the last few minutes. They absolutely destroyed me on a human level, but excited me as a writer and storyteller. By shaking the show up like this, it keeps the audience on their toes and reminds us that anything can happen. Din and Grogu's relationship is why people are so invested and throwing this huge kink that creates a massive conflict that the audience is desperate to have resolved. Aside from one of them actually dying (which would have me throw the show in the garbage), very little else could create such a reaction, which is the whole point. I can't wait to see what the creatives throw at us next year! 😃

#the manadalorian spoilers #the mandalorian season 2 spoilers #the mandalorian season 2 #the mandalorian #mandalorian analysis

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thetaoofzoe · 3 years

Text

Fic: The Rumble Of His Truck

Title: The Rumble of His Truck 1/1

Summary: Sy’s truck is big and it shakes the world. You miss him so much.

Rating: Self indulgent fluff and a tinge of smut. Do you need a little longing and a little happiness and a little bit of rough naughtiness? This is for you. ❤️❤️❤️

Pairing: Captain ‘Sy’ Syverson x YOU ( because you deserve some loving)

Want to read more? Click for my Masterlist

‘Wassa matter baby?’

His voice was rough and slurred with what sounded like the remnants of sleep.

You smiled, hearing him shifting and groaning, imagining that he must have been sleeping upright in his office chair when the ringing phone startled him out of an uncomfortable doze.

‘You awright?’

‘I’m fine,’ you lied. ‘I just wanted to hear your voice.’

The silence that followed made you feel uncomfortably exposed. Sy could read you like an open large print book and his lack of response told you that he didn’t believe a word you’d said.

And when he spoke, you jerked out of your own muse.

‘C’mon, baby. You wouldn’t be calling me at… 3am 'cus you wanted to hear my voice. Now, what’s the matter?’

That bastard.

‘Well,’ you continued, trying to inject some levity into the conversation, ‘I like your voice. It’s sexy.’

A beat passed and you took the moment to wriggle into the comfortable spot beneath your duvet.

‘Uh huh.’

You closed your eyes and revelled in the gravel in his voice. You loved the way he sounded just after waking. There was something so primal about his thicker than normal accent and the terseness of his words. As his brain hadn’t fully engaged with the world the moment he opened his eyes, he wanted you to get right to the point. That sexy voice now sounded incredulous.

‘I dunno,’ you began quietly, feeling a prickling of tears at the outer corners of your eyes and that familiar sensation of splotchy heat rushing up your neck.

Oh God, don’t cry. Don’t you cry!

Your throat convulsed and choked on the vague words you were going to use to assure him that you only wanted to hear his voice and maybe have a little phone sex. All you wanted was the fun easy stuff, not the darkness that slithered like an unchained beast in your gut, not the petty anger you felt about him always being away, not the surprising grief you experienced when the two of you parted, yet again.

You signed up for this life. You knew what you were getting into with a man who was never home. Eyes wide open and all of that rot, but yet you couldn’t stop yourself from feeling inexplicably angry about it. About all of it.

Sy then made a noise that told you that he was thinking about something, that he was quietly considering his next words. He was assiduous with his words and when he spoke, people listened. You listened. It was one of the things you loved about him, and the thought of loving him made you pulse with heartache.

When he finally spoke, his voice was soft and soothing, pitched in a way you knew you didn’t deserve. You didn’t deserve his undaunted tenderness.

‘Baby. I miss you, you know that. I miss you all the time,’ he said, his tone reassuring.

‘I know,’ you answered, trying to hold back a girlish sob.

God, If I start crying, I’m going to waste the rest of this day with a headache.

‘You know I’d be right there with you, if I could. Right?’

You pressed your teeth into your lower lip and nodded, finally snuffling out a ‘Mmmhmm.’

‘I love you, baby.’

Your heart broke into pieces. There was nothing like his expression of love to wreck the whole of you.

‘I love you,’ you managed to squeak out. ‘I– I have to go.’

‘Babe,’ Sy said suddenly and you winced that you had aroused his suspicions. ‘Babe, wai–‘

You disconnected. And feeling sorry for yourself, you tossed the mobile aside then lay there staring into the dark.

He didn’t deserve to be treated like that, chided the voice in your head.

You blindly groped for the discarded mobile. One finger glanced against a cool rounded edge and you dragged it close, contemplating ringing him again, if only to apologise. Subjecting Sy to your own petulant whimsy really wasn’t fair. However, the childish part of you grumbled that /he/ should call back if he was that concerned. You flung the phone father away and groaned when you heard it thump against the carpeted floor.

Flipping onto your side and dragging the bedsheets around your face and shoulders, you resumed stewing over the hot miserable coal in your gut.

It wasn’t long until sleep claimed you again.

Hours later, as you continued to doze lightly, blissfully floating just beneath the flimsy surface of sleep and uncaring about the outside world, something scratched at your attention. There was a noise in the distance and your consciousness reached up through the dreamy film to try to identify the audible intruder. Your brain followed it and rifled through its memory databanks, trying but failing to put a name to the object.

The noise drew closer and the sudden recognition of it slammed into place. It was the deep throated growl of a V8 Hemi engine that shattered the mid-morning silence. It roared up your driveway, husky and panting and unabashedly announcing its arrival.

You pushed yourself upright in bed as the room rattled around you.

No, you thought. It couldn’t be.

When the engine stopped, the whole world plunged back into silence, and with hands nervously clutching the duvet, you held your breath.

It couldn’t be.

You jumped at the muffled noise of your front door slamming shut, and looked towards your closed bedroom door.

Heavy footsteps bounded up the stairs.

When the bedroom door opened, you tensed, waiting for it to bang nosily against the opposite wall and knock loose what was hanging there. But, it didn’t. Instead your unexpected visitor only pushed the door halfway open, and suddenly in rushed a great big slobbery and excited dog.

You scrambled out of bed in an instant, and threw your arms round the wriggling Alsatian.

‘Aika!’ you cried, voice loud and bright with delighted surprise just as the second figure came through the doorway.

You broke apart from the shaggy animal and looked up.

Sy.

He looked tired and road weary and even scruffier than the last time you’d seen him. Wearing a tan tee-shirt and dark jeans he smiled when you fell upon him like a ravenous predator. He swept you up in his strong arms and kissed you, opening your mouth with his eager tongue and dragging you even closer against his hot, sturdy body. He felt so good, so alive and smelling of the encroaching summer morning, that you couldn’t discern the differences between your melange of emotions.

You wasted no time stripping him out of his clothes and pulling him to bed. You didn’t bother to ask how or why he was there for when he pressed you onto your back and thrust hard into you, all rational thought slipped away. Sy pumped you full and didn’t stop his merciless onslaught until you were wailing and cumming on his thick veiny cock.

‘I’m so sorry,’ you gasped when he slid off of your hot thrumming body and lay at your side. ‘I’m sorry for being a jerk.’

You listened to his quick breathing and smiled when it finally slowed enough for him to speak clearly.

‘You were being a jerk,' he said with a fond chuckle.

You laughed happily and the knot of tension in your chest loosened and disappeared. How could you love this man any more?

‘What the hell are you doing here anyway! I thought you were… ‘

‘I just flew in last night. I was driving up here to surprise you. I had pulled into a rest stop to get in a nap when you called.’

You rolled onto one side and pushed against him. Sy lifted an arm and curved it around you drawing you in close. You put a hand on his belly and your cheek against his shoulder.

‘How long do I have you?’ you asked.

‘For a while,’ he answered vaguely and it was enough for you.

You were going to make the most of it.

-end

#henry cavill #captain syverson #sandcastle #captain syverson x you #syverson #man of steel #superman #clark kent #napoleon solo #geralt of rivia #geralt #the witcher #sherlock holmes #enola holmes 2020 #hellworld #hellraiser hellworld

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lovehotelreservation · 3 years

Text

(Re)spite

Summary: Hathe and Emet-Selch needed a break.

For Hathe, it was to preserve her energy and ease her nerves before ascending The Ladder for the daunting task of putting an end of Vauthry.

As for Emet-Selch?

He just needed for the glint of that painfully familiar shard to stop tormenting him so.

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: WoL!OC/Emet-Selch

Continuation to “Mea Culpa”

BEEP BEEP SAD GRANDPA SEXINGZ ON THE WAY !!!

THANKS SO MUCH TO MY LOVELY COMMISSIONER FOR THIS BLESSEDLY ANGSTY OPPORTUNITY!!!

----------------

It just wasn’t the same.

There was a time when Emet-Selch set his eyes upon the Warrior of Light as something more than just a pawn in his plan, more than a fascinating subject in his observation of the mortals within the First.

An era long lost, but one he yearned so dearly to return to--it was during those blessed bygone days when he mockingly called out to the savior of the realm as not “hero”, but Azem.

As much as he wanted to deny it, he preferred truth over delusion.

The shard of his beloved Azem was here, lingering within the possession of the Warrior of Light.

Hathe.

But now, as he found himself lingering around the proximity of The Ladder in the mortals’ ongoing efforts to thwart Vauthry’s plans while the Kholusian sun mercilessly bore down upon him, his eyes were not softened with affection as he gazed towards her, but fixed in a scrutinizing stare.

It just wasn’t the same.

Hathe’s aether.

Corrupted cracks had since formed during her adventures in the First, all because of her misplaced faith in the Crystal Exarch.

Honestly, for all the glares and huffs that he received from her, it truly was baffling that she did not do the same to The Crystarium’s leader.

His lips were beginning to form a pout from this biased treatment.

“How are you not boiling in that thing?”

But then his lips curled into a grin as his gaze shifted to the eyes of the inquiring voice.

Lounging beneath the shade of one of the old workshops was Hathe, who retreated to this distant corner of The Ladder to preserve her energy before the ascent up to Mt. Gulg while the other Scions and the Eulmorans worked together to get the Talos running once again.

Clicking his tongue in a tsk, Emet-Selch threw his arms open wide in overexaggerated faux shock as he remarked, “My, my, hero--how brazen of you.”

He approached where she sat in a saunter, crossing between the distinct line on the pavement to where the blazing sunlight treaded no further into the cool shade as he continued, his voice donning a playful innocence, “Did you wish for me to strip for you so badly?” Tilting his head, he pressed a thoughtful finger against his cheek with a smirk as he purred, “Have you missed my warmth in your bed that much?”

A roll of her eye and a sigh out of her painted lips.

“I should have just stayed quiet and enjoyed the peace.” Shaking her head, her arms folded over her chest as she reclined further back against the wall. Her eyes shut, hoping he would take this as cue to leave her alone.

But the sudden presence that appeared right by her side entailed otherwise.

As did him crouching down, a silent affirmation of his intentions to stay.

Not even the sensation of gloved fingertips cradling her chin had her look towards him, let alone fluttering her eyelid open to perceive his existence.

“Oh come now, you act like my presence hasn’t enriched your life for the better--”

He drew closer to her.

“--truly, wouldn’t you prefer I over the Exarch?”

The heat of his breath fanning over her ear never failed to make her shudder, a sensation that she was ever reluctant to enjoy.

She had a feeling as to where this was going. Though her better judgment would have her shoo him away before matters progressed further--especially given their relatively close proximity to the rest of the Scions and the others--it was either indulging in pleasure or quietly stew in thought over both the task of sending Vauthry crashing down while dealing with the Light that was poisoning her aether.

But that didn’t mean she was going to be that compliant with the man who was meant to be her nemesis.

And thus her eye opened, the sight of which made him wish she didn’t have to keep that eyepatch of hers on.

Azem’s eyes were among the features he cherished most about her after all.

But as ever the contrast between his lost love to the fragmented soul who stood before him, she huffed in defiance, “I’d prefer you let me relax before I pick up the pieces of your meddling.”

Her tone was soft, but the irritation laced around each word was as prickly as could be.

Emet-Selch only smirked in response.

“Meddling I object to, but letting you relax--” His thumb traced over her lips, caring little for the smudge of rouge that stained the whites of his glove--if anything, he relished it.

Continuing on, he kept her right in his sights as he tsked haughtily, “--honestly, by now you should know to be more direct with me on with your desires, hero.”

The distance separating them closed further as he drew his thumb away, eliminating the space between his face and hers until their lips were barely an ilm apart as he mused, “Has anything else even come close to having that beautifully battleworn body of yours be at ease like my touch?”

She expected a kiss next.

But ever full of surprises, Emet-Selch only smirked as he teased, “Save for those ruffians who have felt the might of a keg of ale smashed upon their heads during those bratty youthful days of yours, of course.”

Hathe’s eye narrowed with sheer annoyance. “Gods, you really need to shut up.”

And it was with those huffed words that her hands cupped his face as she brought his lips to hers in a kiss.

A kiss for distraction.

Hathe and the tumultuous road that she was due to tread any moment now.

Emet-Selch and a yearning that he never could bring himself to ever relinquish in the days that have passed.

As delightful as it was to indulge in the gorgeously toned physique of the renowned hero during their many trysts in the nights since passed in her personal suite, it was still an utterly peculiar experience for his fingers to roam over physical familiarity with a soul that thought him to be a stranger, an enemy.

Ever more the thorns that had long formed around his heart embedded further and further.

In the end, she was just to be a vessel to enact his life’s work, his purpose to continue and carry on the will of his people.

And yet, he still found himself being so attentive, doting even, to Hathe’s pleasure as he shifted her clothes around--being mindful to not rip, else risk being punched back to The Source as she warned--, his lips kissing over her breasts, his tongue skillfully lapping over her nipples while his gloved fingers slipped beneath the waistband of her pants, seeking to press and caress over her panties.

A warrior like her could handle some roughhousing, as he would often tease while fucking her into the mattress during his numerous late night visits to The Pendants.

But here, in this moment, hidden away in the shade, while she was more eager to peel off his robe, he was more in mind to take his time with her.

Bodies intertwined, an affair meant to exist only in the shadows.

She lied beneath him upon the ground while he eased his cock in and out of her core. Far from pounding but nowhere near delicate, he pumped himself at a lively pace. More kisses than bites were pressed onto her neck, one hand clasped around her waist while the fingers of the other slipped between their bodies to rub slow--and dare he say sweet?--circles against her clit.

It just wasn’t the same.

“What’s with the tenderness?” Hathe murmured breathlessly, her back arching as she continued to find her senses stimulated all the more. Though there was a teasing inflection to her voice, he could hear a layer of pure curiosity at its foundation.

The question genuinely caused Emet-Selch to halt in place.

Even if just for a few seconds.

Only before he snorted, his lips curling into a smirk. “You will never see Ascians as capable of love, do you, hero? Since you insist--”

His hands reinforced their grip on her waist, squeezing tight as he quickened the pace of his thrusts.

She was right, however.

Tenderness, affection, love--those were reserved for Azem.

A shallow copy of the woman he loved most was in no need of such pure and precious joys, especially when she was fated to become a vessel for his plans.

The leading role of his grand theatrical production was to take her place in the showstopping climax of the show, and he was ever so delighted to have front row seats.

And yet, his mouth still sought out to kiss hers nonetheless.

A kiss longing for someone he couldn’t have anymore.

A kiss affectionate for someone he needed for greater purposes.

But as they rode out their orgasms, soon falling into one another in a pleasured heap, he still embraced her close to his chest with a grip that did not want to let go in the slightest, his face hiding into her neck.

So familiar and so far at the same time.

It just wasn’t the same and never would things return to how they would and should have been in a kinder life.

#emet selch #emetwol #emet selch x wol #wol x npc #wol x emet selch #Final Fantasy XIV #FFXIV #Fic #super freaknasty writing

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lady-writes · 3 years

Text

So about the TOG POC Love Fest...

I may have had a LARGE but blessedly non-catastrophic mental break from around the 7th till now ish and I feel Real Bad.

Not cuz my health failed but because it failed NOW when I was very Hype and Excited about doing fandom things. Inspiration fled, because surviving was priority and now I’m left with an outline that I have no chance of finishing and a sense of guilt because I was super loud about this but then I dropped the ball.

Major Depression suxs, yall.

BUT!!!

There are still somethings I’d put together that I want to share! So I’m absolutely gonna. IDK if anyone cares or dropped it because I did but, I’m still very here to see any other interest that people have for this kind of event.

Starting with Joe, who’s week I completely missed and have never written for because, hello my dear romantic, I do not understand how you love but I am I awe of it. ❤️🤎🖤🤟🏽🤟🏾 ❤️

YORK, PENNSYLVANIA, SOUTH OF HARRISBURG. MAY 1863

To My Heart,

You have asked me what it is that I see when I look skyward. The skies that I live under now do not hold storm clouds, though it pours while I write to you. Lately it seems that no matter when I look up, the skies are darker than any night. We have always found peace and comfort hidden under such skies regardless of time or place, but now my only comfort comes from knowing that the moon above me is the same as the one that is watching over you as you travel.

You, though you write to me of the cruelty that has removed us from each other's embrace, of thundering hearts, of devils and bleeding rivers, grave men lost in storms. Perhaps you are not safe in my arms, but you have carried me poetry with you and return it to me now, when I am bereft of my inspiration and muse and most in need. I am glad of your continued certainty in righteousness of our causes but as we work to reconcile families and see more happy reunions I cannot help but be greedy, despite the embarrassment of riches we have been blessed with, and I split my few spare moments between efforts in prayer, plotting, and works to hasten an end this endless separation.

We were borne into this life together, in the same hellish corpse blighted landscapes you wander alone in now and that you should have to bear the sights of such a wasteland alone or with only the foulest sort for company, causes me pain that if have only before known from the cruelest of deaths.

We know more than most of the devils that ride with war and such deeper devils were sailed into this part of the world through the wretched ports and on ships built with greed. We have seen the worst of the hate and cruelty that this “trade” has brought and are seeing it still. I have seen pain and suffering reflected on your face too often in these last decades, caused as much by the suffering we could not vanquish, as the assumption that you would be one of the perpetrators of that same suffering.

Being such as we must do things differently, our skills are not always best suited to heroism but for this cause, in this era, as grim and ghastly as it has become, heroes cannot remain unbloodied and unsullied in their efforts to undo what dirty work has been done. It is the tragedy of the lives we’ve been given that our hands are the best to take these ugly tasks and It is a cruel irony that the rampant prejudice of this place and time require would so harsh a sacrifice from those of us who have been most suited to care in peacetime, while restless peace is thrust upon those who are inclined to defend.

I read your words and see you as clearly as ever, feeling tormented by faults long forgiven while you look upon scores of faces that are as you once were and know that they will not be given the opportunity to make the changes that you have, to learn from their mistakes. But this is no hypocrisy or blasphemy my love. You know as well as I that these louts and leeches have rejected such chances, becoming even more inhumane in response. If your heart feels no remorse, then it only acknowledges the depth of their depravity and the blasphemy that they have called it justified.

Let your heart not be lonely, because though you may feel as though you are losing you capacity for compassion, I can tell you of the fortune that your work spreads among those who need it most. If it will bring warmth to your cold musings then think of the mother and children reunited in Mr. Goodridge’s cellar bedroom and the ailing elders, both those who have been healed here at the Willis House and those who have been able to die and be buried free and with dignity. Think of the man, Jonas, who you incidentally gave your letter to, reaching us in York with less than a week to spare before his wife Belah went into labor. This man was able to witness the birth of their first child, when at the last they saw each other they thought he would be condemned to death on the front of a confederate line to assuage the ego of a man who would spitefully sell a budding family apart. They have named the child Nicola, after asking me for your name. Jonas says that all he would wish in this life for his girl to be as brave and bold as the stranger who made it possible for him to reach his wife and meet her.

If you are a storm then you must be a hurricane for “as the whirlwind passes suddenly, so wicked men shall perish and be no more. But the righteous, on an everlasting foundation, turn aside and escape forever.”

I am sure that you will benefit from a mission that will feel clean, work that lets you heal and rest in using the knowledge and skill that have been granted by our gift without the accompanying curse of death and I promise that you will have it, but you are healing the wounds of people now, as surely as you would be in an operating theater or pharmacy.

I know that you have thought of our works as responsibility in the past, a necessary way to pass the torment of ages and I have always said that you don’t give yourself enough credit, my love for your heart or your insight. I will say it again to you now because if you have seen the sun rise from the west, I can only assume that perhaps your thoughts on destiny have finally borne fruit; and the portents of our shared faith with remove this weight from you and deliver you back to me

I cannot be your sun or your compass, so let me be the stars that surround the moon at night instead, steady and ever constant company that your weary soul can trust as a guide to a safe resting place.

And please my life and soul, remember that you are not alone in this, not even among our number. Sébastien has recently returned to us from the Louisiana territory and I can see the toll that this has taken on his young heart. I know that you must be feeling much the same, but while we may be alone in our condition and ability to sacrifice ourselves to this cause, we are not at all alone in the desire to do so. You know that our network of Friends will not fight for any cause but there are many passengers who have come through our station that do not feel the same way and are eager to do what they can Mr. Willis has been able to secure uniforms and provisions, to outfit them and Mr.Goodridge has arranged to send a passenger car of more delicate cargo to Friends further north, for safe keeping through the trials to come. The freedmen are forming a battalion and when they march to hold the border beyond Gettysburg we will be joining. By providence when you read this, I will be with you again to ease whatever nightmares are before your eyes, day or night and the thunder of our hearts together will be the knell that drives this darkness from your mind.

Eternally Yours,

#TOG POC Love Fest #yusuf al kaysani #the old guard #kaysonova #Slavery #TOG fic #the old guard fanfic

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dennou-translations · 3 years

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Violet Evergarden Ever After: Chapter 2

Please feel free to message me about possible corrections. If you can, consider supporting the creators by purchasing the official releases. In case anyone is feeling generous: Ko-fi | PayPal. ( ╹◡╹)っ’･*

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The Night and the Auto-Memories Doll

Everything went around.

From past to present and from present to future. The dead bodies that decayed within the soil would dissolve into the earth, and from the earth, too, would new living creatures be born. Within a few hours’ time, curtains made of stars and nightly shades would be covered over by curtains in the colors of dawn.

People went around as well.

Children would be born, muster out their voices, start walking and, once they became aware of their own selves, their stories would begin. A cycle of discovering passion, coming to know love, stopping to be children and, upon sympathizing with other families, birthing offspring just as their parents had done. A cycle of learning about the world, spreading information, teaching their knowledge to younglings without sparing any of it away and generating more such younglings. A cycle in which someone’s story was someone else’s encouragement, and those who were encouraged would conceive stories of their own.

Everything went around.

There was one cycle here. It was the story of a meager cycle that likely could happen anywhere in the world.

A man picked up a wild beast from a small island to which he had drifted. It was a beautiful beast, but it had been stocked with skills long before coming to his hands. Skills for slaughtering people with ease and seeking submission.

Their first meeting was terrible. His underling had attempted to lay his hands on the beast’s beauty. As if it were a given, the beast had killed his many subordinates, leaving only one person. That was him. Granting him both disaster and salvation at the same time, the beast had sought subservience in regards to the man.

The man fled around the island where all but himself had been murdered, but gave in and accepted the beast. The beast was useful, but also an existence that he could not handle. Be it morning, noon or night, his head was troubled with the beast, his heart unable to calm down.

Essentially, he was a man who did not want to be shackled by anything. After all, he had a past of being forced into submission by his household and parents. He had escaped from his responsibilities and his home, jumping off into the sea. The man, who had been born in a family that bore the name of a flower, had run away and gained freedom.

He yearned for it – for a freedom that no one could steal from him – more than anything. Even if he had to cast away his little brother for it. Therefore, the man had done the same in the beast’s case. The one who mattered most to him was himself. He wanted to break free from that horror. Most likely, he had cut off from himself a child in need of salvation.

Everything went around.

——O God, I want to .

Everything.

A voice that sounded like bells echoed.

“Captain,” it whispered, as if to tickle the man’s ears. “Captain Dietfried Bougainvillea.”

It was evening. A time when people were returning to their homes.

“What would you like to do?”

An orange light shone from the window inlaid with stained glass. With the sunset reflected on the elaborately designed interior decoration, the place itself looked like a single work of art.

“Could it be that, because of the impact earlier, your hearing has...”

It was supposed to be. The place where the person who called out so insistently and the person who intentionally ignored her were in was an art gallery that just recently had its interior and exterior finished.

“As if.”

“I am relieved. Then, I would like to ask if you have a plan.”

In a place they were not supposed to be at, the two who were not supposed to be together were kneeling on the floor in resignation.

“Captain.”

“.............................”

“The civilians are in a predicament.”

“................................”

“Captain Dietfried Bougainvillea.”

“............”

“What would you like to do?”

“..................”

“I would like to ask if you have a plan, by any chance.”

“.....................”

“The civilians are in a predicament.”

“........................”

“If I may offer my opinion, firstly, I could act as a decoy—”

“Be quiet, monster. Don’t keep repeating the same thing over and over. Don’t breathe either. I’m thinking right now.”

Dietfried Bougainvillea, a naval captain of Leidenschaftlich, eldest son of the Bougainvillea – a household of patriotic national heroes – and the man who had picked up Violet Evergarden in the past and brought her to this country, was covering his eyes with his hands due to having too much on his plate. The little bit of silence and darkness had brought him relief, but someone’s sobbing, the voice of a man reproaching it and the sound of a person being brutally kicked and tumbling down dragged him back to reality.

He had a severe headache. Whether it was caused by his anxiety or his injury, he had no idea. He put a hand on the back of his head and examined it, but only a bit of blood had come out.

In order to somehow spit such awful mood out of his body, he took deep breaths. He felt that he had become a little better, but the unpleasant sensation returned once he opened his eyes and cast his gaze at the woman next to him. A spoon of discomfort, rejection and fear each was thrown into Dietfried’s emotional vessels, set on fire and boiled up. However, the most prominent feeling was something else.

The woman who had been talking to him so insistently until a moment ago was now quiet just and not letting out a single breath as he had told her. Violet Evergarden.

Dietfried looked fixatedly at his former servant. The woman, whose appearance had transfigured considerably in comparison to when they had first met, bore a radiantly shining cold beauty, which was even more conspicuous under such tense circumstances. She was almost like an ice sculpture, Dietfried thought.

——Even though you used to stink like a wild beast...

She now smelled of nothing but flowers.

——...you turned out just as I’d imagined.

“You’re a siren.”

Silence.

“My little brother destroyed a train station just to keep you alive; you’re a siren through and through. I’m not into you, but my mental stability is wrecked right now, and I’m sensing the harmfulness and influence that your existence brings about in that. You’re unmatched when it comes to breaking things and causing problems.”

Dietfried had once told his brother that the beast could become a siren. He had meant to say so including all sorts of matters. This young woman named Violet was a creature that God had created by mistake and had not been born under a good star. When one was by her side, there were many of them.

“Damn troublemaker.”

Many problems. Even though she had not wished for it, she had been born this way. Under a star that attracted disasters.

——It goes round. All of it.

He ran and ran from her, yet they would end up meeting, thus Dietfried had started to think that it might be some sort of divine revelation at this point. Telling him to face the girl that he had thrown away.

Violet was still, hand on her brooch. He someway guessed that it was given to her by his younger brother. He felt like clicking his tongue. This girl might become the worst-ever wife whose hand his most beloved little brother was going to take.

——We can leave that for later; gotta overthrow this situation first.

Determined to fight this reality, Dietfried then turned his gaze towards the sight that spread out before his eyes. Women, men, elderly people – everyone was crouching on the floor with guns pointed at them regardless of anything. Obviously, the same applied to Dietfried and Violet.

Unexpected situations – situations in which they could not make a false move even if they were on their own, let alone in the presence of so many civilians – were responsible for this. On top of it, Dietfried was also saddled with someone that he had to protect despite not wanting to. Of course he would feel like clicking his tongue at it.

Perhaps they were thought to be lovers, as no one said anything even while they stayed close to each other.

“Hey, did you really stop breathing?”

She did not seem to be in agony, but her figure as she diligently obeyed made Dietfried feel uneasy.

“I was joking; breathe.”

Violet’s blue eyes blinked with a snap.

“Yes.”

And then, she finally let out a breath. Dietfried hated himself for being remotely relieved that she had safely started breathing again, was what he thought.

“Hey, you.”

“Yes.”

“From now on, follow my orders. Don’t act on your own accord.”

“All right.”

“I’m gonna save the civilians. It’s my duty. There’s no helping it, so I’m counting you in that math too... No idea what my little brother would do if he found out I’d let you die. Even if it weren’t on purpose, if anything that could kill you happened under these circumstances, I really have no way of knowing what he’d do. He’d probably hate me.”

“No, Captain, he—”

“Have some self-awareness, Monster. My foolish younger brother blew up a train station to let you live. This fact did turn into a subject of teasing towards Gil for no matter how much time passes from now, but if you think about it on normal terms, it’s out of the ordinary. That’s the way you’ve changed him. Damn witch...”

She was the tool that he had found and that used to exist for his sake. A woman who used to be a dog with no name. An orphan whom he had picked up from a solitary island, brought back with him, attempted to get the most out of yet was unable to, and then threw away.

Asset. Girl soldier. Automatic assassination doll. Witch.

——Even if I don’t want to, for now, I gotta protect this thing and take it home.

“I’ll save you, so you save me too, Witch.”

Fate went around, adding a chance meeting as the best seasoning for a finishing touch. After all, at this very moment, Violet Evergarden and Dietfried Bougainvillea were being attacked by robbers and had weapons thrust at them.

“That’s awfully unpleasant for me, but I’ll take action by considering your life to be the top priority. Not for you. For my little brother.”

Understanding that she had received permission to talk once she had received permission to breathe, Violet gave her own opinion, “No.” She did it directly, without any restraint. “No, that is my job, Captain. Major... Lord Gilbert loves you.”

Dietfried’s eyes blinked. Those green orbs were staring fixatedly at Violet since earlier, enough to seem like they would suck her in. They were green jewels in a different shade from his younger brother’s. Those green gems, enveloped in shock, reflected Violet’s serious gaze.

“I shall guard you, no matter what happens,” Violet declared with resolution, like a knight. “I will obey your orders to the best of my abilities, but if I judge it to be dangerous, I shall take action with your safeguarding as the maximum priority.”

“Hey.”

“I will definitely protect you and bring you to Major safely. Please do not leave my side, Captain.”

“That’s my line,” Dietfried said while nonetheless wanting to kill Violet.

For the exchange between the two to reach this stage, things had first begun when morning visited Leidenschaftlich. This might be going back much too far in time for a clarification, but it all had indeed started since daybreak.

The morning weather was overflowing with sunlight on that day – typical of Leidenschaftlich in early summer. Early rising ladies formed queues in the bakeries that opened at dawn and little birds flew about the shops’ surroundings to receive breadcrumbs. There was a café three stores away from one of the popular bakeries, famous for serving floral teas, its signboard girl preparing to open it. If one went further ahead, there was a bank, and round said bank, there was a main street lined with large-scale shops.

An art gallery arranged to open the next day had been erected on the main street. Its name was Artemisia. It bore the name of its owner, who was an artist.

The gallery Artemisia displayed the works of its proprietor, of course, but it also had works of artists from within and abroad Leidenschaftlich. There were rows of works from unknown young artists that the owner had taken interest in as well, devoted as she was to the cultivation of new talents.

The Artemisia Gallery, which was to become a place where novel forms of Leidenschaftlich’s art would be born, was scheduled to hold a pre-opening party today, attended only by the people concerned. The gallery’s staff had started cleaning its interior and the sidewalk in front of it from morning.

Around noon, a restaurant employee hired for the sake of that day had visited, bringing in wine, snacks and table sets. As for the dishes, there were two types: the ones that had already been prepared and the ones that would be made by borrowing the kitchen of the owner’s residence, which had been built on the gallery’s top floor. Since eating was not the main focus, the preparations were merely enough for the upcoming guests not to feel hungry.

As evening came, the inside of Artemisia began to speed up with haste. If there were anyone in command of such a scenery, they would likely be asserting with a baton: “hurry”, “faster”, “elegantly”.

An envelope closed with a wax seal bearing the establishment’s crest. Customers arrived one after another with the invitation taken from inside of it at hand. For a pre-opening party with a limited number of invitees, there was a large amount of people. The elect few of Artemisia’s employees were in a flurry of activity.

“Bring me a coat” here, “not enough drinks” there, a plate breaking somewhere. “Where’s the owner?”, “Got caught by the guests”. “There’s no one to give us instructions”, “Oh, well” – just like this, things descended into chaos behind the scenes.

Normally, their job was to calmly recommend artistic goods. Therefore, they were unable to hide their bewilderment at handling so many visitors at first. Nevertheless, if one looked at the guests being entertained, how were they? Appreciating the artworks, looking like they were having a blast. Upon seeing this, the employees were able to understand deep down. That “what, so things are the same as usual”. By the time that the customers were completely familiar with the gallery’s interior, the employees were able to show smiles with a little bit of ease.

Among the guests invited to Artemisia, a foreign body completely unrelated to this world was mixed in.

It was a woman. A beautiful one at that. From an appreciative viewpoint, there would be nothing to complain about if she were one of the artworks. She was clad in a ribbon-tie one-piece dress, snow-white as a flower in full bloom on a summer day. Her long, softly curved golden hair extended to her waist. Perhaps she had come straight from work, as she held a heavy-looking trolley bag on one hand. “Click, click,” knocked her cocoa-brown boots against the marble flooring each time she took a step.

She walked while observing every artwork one by one. Idyllic landscape paintings, abstract paintings that looked like silver ink spilled on pure-white paper, oil paintings in which the people seemed as if they would move at any moment. Glassworks and ceramics that one would be very afraid even to look at from nearby. At first, the exhibition was of works from artists renowned within the country, but the small hall of its latter half integrated displays from artists who were still nameless. The woman stopped in front of one such work.

A painting of whimsical fantasy. Was it a winter sea? It depicted various things falling and sinking into dark and cold water. A pocket watch, a feather, a bed, a knife, a white flower and a chair. All were worn-out and had damaged parts. At first glance, one would not know what it was expressing. Only the boy painted in the center seemed to pierce through the viewer.

He was still a teenager and his appearance could also be considered that of a girl. After staring at him for a while, the feeling that he was supposed to be saved would surface. Because the boy had a facial expression that almost looked like he was making eye contact with the viewer as he fell. But this could not come true. He was sinking in the picture. No one on this side could do anything. One would not know what to do with themselves after looking at it – it was that kind of picture.

“Excuse me; I was the one who painted this. Is there anything wrong with this painti...”

Suddenly, a voice called to the woman from behind. A rock thrown into the quiet atmosphere. A low tone that cut through the dimness of the room.

People were mostly heading towards the famous artists, so the woman had been all by herself on that spot until just now. The man who had showed up a bit late was coincidentally the creator of that fantastical painting, and found himself talking to the woman who had stopped in front of his art. That was an extremely natural encounter for a pair. If their positions, circumstances and everything else were different, something might have been born between them. It did not have to be romantic love, just something – something else that “the two of them originally had”.

“Captain Dietfried Bougainvillea.”

The moment the woman turned around, the space resounded with a loud squeak. It actually had not resounded, but at the very least, Dietfried heard the thump of his own heartbeat, which gave his whole body goosebumps. He was enveloped in a strange sensation, as if the blood inside him were flowing backwards. One of the things he had once evaded in his life was standing there.

“What’re you doing, Monster?”

Violet Evergarden.

Before the emerald eyes that Dietfried possessed, of a hue different from his younger brother’s, there was a young female Auto-Memories Doll. The reason why he had not recognized her from the back was likely that her golden hair was slovenly loose.

He had not had a chance to see her after she had become a grown-up ever since the incident during the Flying Letters. Only people who had great amount of interaction with each other would be able to tell such a thing just by looking at someone’s back.

“I was looking at the paintings, Captain.”

Violet was expressionless. However, her hand alone promptly searched for her emerald brooch and squeezed it.

“You, paintings? Can you understand them?”

First, a scornful laugh, and then a head start with a verbal attack. She needed to put up a defense line. After all, this girl was formerly a weapon. An automatic assassination doll.

“I cannot. It is just that... my eyes and legs stopped.”

She was the one and only woman that Dietfried feared. If he had run into anyone else, his emotions would not be so disrupted.

Dietfried was scared. This girl was terrifying.

“I caused you trouble last time.”

He knew the things she had done. He knew whom she had killed. And he also recalled how he used to treat her, telling himself that it was all right.

“By asking about Major.”

Because she was a monster.

——O God, I want to .

These words wandered about in his head. They were words that he had prayed in his childhood to the one that he would meet at some point – probably in his dying moments. Thinking back on it now, it had been a foolish, immature and helpless wish, but he was serious about it at the time.

Looking at this girl made him remember his embarrassing past self.

“I shall see myself out. Captain, please take your time.”

“Hey.”

Violet had decided to retreat from the place, putting it to action. She concluded that this would be a peaceful solution for both sides and that it would secure each other’s survival.

“Hey, wait.”

However, Dietfried still had something that he wanted to say.

At the call of restraint, Violet’s feet halted mid-step. She then gazed at Dietfried. “Why?” her eyes were asking.

Choosing to leave must have been her own way of showing respect. Considering the current and the previous relationship between two of them, it was a sound judgement. Hence, she stared at him presumptuous and mutely.

Even now, it pierced Dietfried. That quiet “why” perforated him.

Despite being the one who had told her to wait, Dietfried lost sight of his next words. He had tons of complaints. Rather, complaints were the only thing that ever came out of his mouth. Most likely, he had never presented any warm words or attitude to her. No, he had at least patted her head when they parted. But what about it? That was all he had done. Which perhaps was the reason why.

——What did you think of that painting?

Just a question like this was exceptionally challenging for him. If it were anyone else, he would surely be able to ask as easily as breathing. He could also boast that he was the one who had painted it. However, only with this woman was it so difficult.

A long silence drifted between the two. A truly long, long silence.

The mood was almost like two beasts had come across each other in the wilderness and were estimating which would attack first. Both were underdeveloped and, not matching their insides, only their appearances were actually full-fledged. Seen from the sidelines, they were a beautiful adult man and woman looking at each other, but the air flowing between them was that of a battlefield.

Dietfried was starting to sweat. As for Violet, even her breathing was becoming shallower.

Violet seemed to be thinking about something. She opened and closed her mouth, repeating it several times. What should she do in that situation? What was best? She was probably unable to decide. This was something that not just Violet but also Dietfried was thinking about, yet the degree of seriousness in behavior was surprisingly higher on Violet’s side.

She would normally not be like this.

He was the person that even Violet Evergarden, who had written so many letters, was at loss as to how to act around. That was the man called Dietfried.

Perhaps her thinking had eventually arrived to a conclusion, Violet left her baggage on the floor and put her hands behind her back. “Feel free to.”

At first, Dietfried had no idea what she was doing. Violet looked like she was offering her body.

“Ha...?”

Without hesitation, almost as if she were a tool.

“I am still. Feel free to.”

“Feel free to feast on my life,” she seemed to say. Her current self overlapped with the beast of the past.

“To do what, is what I’m asking...” Dietfried’s mouth felt sticky, giving him a hard time mustering words out. His head had been occupied mostly with how to mend the blunder that he had exposed to her, so he could not respond to Violet’s surprise attack immediately.

“Do you not remember? I used to do this whenever I had to receive reprimand or punishment.”

He could not. All of the information that had been fluttering about in Dietfried’s head until now disappeared. It vanished.

“You, what the...”

The owner of the blue eyes that stared at Dietfried as if to shoot through him always did unexpected things, tossing him about.

“I did not know how to speak back then, so in order to show that I had no intention to attack you, Captain, I would do this.”

Those eyes.

“No matter what I say, surely... there is no atonement for me. With time, I have come to understand the things I... did. And how much terror I made you go through. Nevertheless, I am grateful for the kindliness of placing me under Lord Gilbert. I wish to pay you back somehow. If you say that it is unnecessary, at the very least, do as you please.”

For whatever reason, when those eyes asked him “why”...

“Be it with fists or with reproach, as much as you want.”

...his chest ached as if it had been stabbed.

“Feel free to.”

If that place were not a quiet art gallery, Dietfried would have yelled furiously at her, without caring about shame or his reputation. He managed to ball his fists hard enough for it to hurt and swallow down his angry voice due to his high level of self-respect.

“I hate that about you...”

This girl always made him aware that she would never act as he expected.

“...to death.”

At the words spoken by Dietfried’s quivering tone, Violet took a step back. Her stance of offering herself did not change, but her instincts were on-guard, wondering if she was not going to be killed by this man. Seeing that, Dietfried sneered at her figure.

“You’re the one who could choke the life out of me anytime,” he seemed to say.

Dietfried suddenly felt the heat that had gone up his head cooling down. Violet had taken a step back. That became the trigger for him to regain his composure. Because he was able to reconfirm that she was but a child in the end. This innocent aspect and action that were much like what a child would show to an adult exerted a great influence on the other party. Dietfried loathed that.

For he, who despised interventions from anyone, had so much aversion to it that it make him want to vomit.

Those who were accustomed to oppression from others would very easily choose to hurt people. She was inwardly frightened of that tendency. Yet albeit frightened, she prioritized others over herself. That creature was like a mass of contradictions.

——Disgusting. Stop. Die. Don’t look at me.

He did not want to get involved with her. But he had a mountain of things to say. However, when it came to whether or not he could properly do it, even if he managed to squeeze them out, they would turn into nothing but abusive language.

There was a large lake between the two of them and all they could do was gaze at the opposite shore, unable to tell how deep it was. Their first meeting was to blame for that. It was the cause of everything.

His underlings had attacked her and she had killed all of them. She then chased and chased after him, making him into her master. Despite there being a hierarchy, Violet was the one who had a grip over his life.

One would understand, after spending time with the girl, that this was a necessity for her. She was always like that, ever since the island only the two of them knew. Whenever anything happened, she would prioritize Dietfried. After all, even as he handed her over to Gilbert, she had not resisted.

If anything could be changed, that was the moment.

The two who never mingled with each other met again countless times in a parallel line. On such occasions, they would become unable to make a move due to shouldering the truth of rejection and of the things they had done, thus running away.

——Gilbert.

What did the person who brought the two together, whom they loved most, thought of that?

“You... I...”

——If I could change for Gilbert...

“Captain...?”

——If I could change, right here and now, for your sake...

Would it be easier for him to breathe?

Just as Dietfried was about to make a bitter decision...

“GYAAAAAAAAAH—AAAAAAH—AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

...an incident occurred.

It was clearly not a hasty crime. The scream of Artemisia, the owner, echoed, and by the time that Dietfried and Violet had bolted from the quiet hall where there was just the two of them, robbers were already thrusting their weapons mostly at vulnerable women and children, having them on their knees. The course of action was far too swift.

Wide-eyed, Violet swung back her trolley bag and was about to throw it at them, yet Dietfried stopped her.

“Are you stupid?! Those aren’t all adults that can run...!”

Among the hostages, there was also a little girl held under someone’s arms, looking like she did not understand the situation.

“I will save them as fast as possible and take control of the rest.”

“They’ve got guns; what’re you gonna do if they hit someone else with a warning shot?! There’s the other artworks too... This ain’t a stage for a tactless bastard like you to brawl! Just stay put for now!”

“But, Captain—”

“Stay put!”

While the two were trying to push past each other, the robbers took notice of them.

In the main hall, perhaps in order to bind people up through fear, the men were being beaten without exception, being put on their knees over the floor. Seeing that, the women naturally sat down, trembling, and began to cry.

While screams were resounding like music, one of the robbers headed towards the duo. “So there were still weeds growing here?” was the look in his eyes as he swung his firearm emotionlessly.

Dietfried would have managed to avoid it. He had done it several times until now. He could do it as easily as floating on water. If he could catch the man’s gun with one hand and pulled it just like that, he was able to picture the opponent falling over as a reaction. Once he stole the gun, he could shoot each member of the robber gang one by one in the head. And then, there would be a gunfight. He would have done that if he were alone. Yes, if he were alone.

——Why now of all times?

There was nothing more humiliating than a punch that one had to resign oneself into receiving. But he had things he had to protect above his own dignity. Thus, he accepted the attack without dodging. If he were to start a scuffle amidst the current situation, he did not think that all of the people who had become hostages would remain unharmed. He would aim for a chance. That was what he should do. He made such decision not only for his own welfare but also for that of other people.

However, the automatic assassination doll made a completely different one. When her eyes glinted like that, she quite literally moved on automatic. She came forward to take his place. In that instant, the face of Dietfried’s younger brother was the only thing crossing his mind.

——Gil.

It was almost as if he had readied himself to do it. That was how quickly his arm reached out. He forcefully embraced Violet and turned his back towards the robber. A violent hit struck him from head to back. He could hear Violet’s breath quietly catching while holding her in his arms.

And such was how they had arrived to the present.

Dietfried did not think that his decision to suppress Violet was a mistake. He was aware that she was the woman who had fought by herself against terrorists inside an exploding train, but it would be a problem if she did something of the sort in the Artemisia Gallery.

Right now, he felt like a pet owner containing the rampage of his mad dog.

As for the mad dog herself, she had grown quiet ever since Dietfried had been hit, as if her functions were gone. Dietfried had pushed away the hands that had attempted to give him first aid. Any false moves and the robbers might beat him again.

She, who always took upon herself to protect, wound up being protected. On top of that, she had let the other be injured. This must have caused her to fall into despondency, enough to result in service outage. However, with time, she had rebooted and was rousing herself up once more to get through this situation.

“I understand that I should refrain from the use of force in an art gallery. But should we not place human lives above the artworks?”

——Whose fault do you think it is that I got hit on the back of my head?

Because she was saying the most obvious thing with the most serious face, Dietfried grabbed the collar where her brooch resided, taking the brooch along, without thinking. The thread that fastened the ribbon-tie dress’s button let out a screech. It was not the kind of deed that a gentleman would do to a lady. But Dietfried did not loosen the strength that he put into his grip.

“You... Do you still need disciplining from me?” he said, voice filled with rage, close enough for their faces to touch. “Think of this as a place that can hardly compare to any other... This thing’s pretty important for you, isn’t it?”

After blinking with a snap, she opened her mouth once, then closed it.

Once Dietfried’s hand let go of her, she grasped the brooch as if to protect it. She was more concerned about the brooch than the crumpled bust of her dress. She stroked it over and over, making sure that it had not been damaged.

Finally, she whispered in a dazed state, “I understand.”

“As if an idiot could,” Dietfried said with a snort, yet the other was a poker-faced Auto-Memories Doll. No matter how much he hurt her, it would have no effect. That was what Dietfried had thought.

“I understood completely. I will avoid combat here as much as possible.” Alas, her voice sounded a little faint.

Dietfried stared at Violet from the corners of his eyes. The brooch was indeed important to her. She was holding it down with both hands. She did not want anyone to touch it – that was what she was indicating. The two of them were speaking in an awfully low tone, but her timbre just now was as thin as the cry of a mosquito.

Dietfried said with a somewhat softer voice, “Good that you get it. I’m indebted to the owner of this gallery. I’m gonna choose the best I can for her sake too.”

“All right.”

“Human lives are the priority, of course. But we’re not gonna fight in a stupid way.”

Like a child, Violet nodded repeatedly.

“You’ve only ever been doing body guarding, murders and military action, and that’s why you don’t understand. In the sea... In fleet battles, we fight to protect. Our way of thinking is different from those who fight to conquer.”

“To protect...”

“If you can’t put brakes on them at sea, the enemies go to land. The reason why Leidenschaftlich is called a military nation ain’t just the army’s achievement. I’ve... never taught you how to fight at sea, huh... For now, forget the method of destroying and taking control of everything. Learn from my ways.”

“Understood.”

Dietfried was inwardly surprised at the obedient reply. Rather, even more than this, he was surprised that he and the “beast” were able to have mutual comprehension.

When she was in his hands, this beautiful Auto-Memories Doll was a “wild beast” that did not know how to speak, as well as a tool. An incontrollable beast, to boot.

“Still, if that is how it is, please do not forget that your wellbeing is my top priority all the more. I shall fight to protect you, Captain. Please do not think of protecting me for Lord Gilbert’s sake. If necessity arises, I will not might if you use me as a shield. I can be replaced, but there is no substitute for you.”

If, at that time...

“This is also linked to protecting Lord Gilbert.”

...in that place...

“Bye, Monster. This guy’s your next master.”

...he had educated and guided her instead of letting her go, would she have grown up the same way?

“Shut up.”

Would she have thought like that?

“Shut up, Monster.”

He had never even thought about it.

Another side of him immediately answered “no” to the self-questioning. Surely, a Violet Evergarden raised by Dietfried Bougainvillea would not have turned out like this. He might have at least taught her how to talk. They would have trouble communicating otherwise. He would have probably given her clothes and personal belongings for daily life. Bringing her along when walking around would look bad for him.

However, when it came to whether or not he would have bestowed this girl with something that would be enveloped in her hands with utmost zeal...

——I see; so it’s the same color as Gilbert’s eyes. That brooch.

...he would undeniably have not.

——Come to think of it, she was always following me around from behind ‘cause she hated being alone.

If there was anything he could have done for her, it was to at least fill up a coffin with flowers and leave it available for her. He did not intend for anything to happen, but he might have done that much. After all, if Violet had stayed beside Dietfried Bougainvillea, she would have surely died before him, for his sake.

“We’re gonna do an act.”

——Aah, Gilbert.

“An act?”

——I’m always late to realize how great you are.

“That’s right. You’re the one who suggested it, so I’m gonna make you into a decoy.”

——You’ve made that filthy beast into this.

“Understood.”

——You were able to change her like this.

“First, take this... It’s late for that, but... you got any questions about a joint struggle with me?”

As Dietfried asked, Violet responded with her neck tilted, “Why...? I do not.”

For whatever reason, his former weapon would show scraps of emotion only at times like these. Just innocently, unaware that it was merciless of her.

“Please use me correctly, Captain.” She smiled.

Why had robbers attacked the Artemisia Gallery?

There was a certain amount of history that led to such violence unfolding amidst everyday life. Firstly, it would be preferable to start with the time when a turning point happened in the life of the robbery’s main offender, but that would be rewinding too far. On to a brief explanation.

This case was a crime committed by a habitual criminal.

There were various reasons for people to rob, yet the advantage was but one. Earning compensation within a short period. Good citizens would be paid for their work, but thieves did not share this mentality. People received rewards through serving others. In order to gather a large sum, a long time and effort were necessary. Thieves abdicated from this. To achieve success, no matter in what land, a person had to be equipped with skills as a rule of thumb.

If one could stop after doing it once, why did they do it countless times? There were people here and there who thought this about criminals. It was because, if they had succeeded once, they could do it again. They were instantly able to attain things that they would have to spend a long time out of their lives to earn. This was the arrival of an opportunity to do that.

Once one got used to it, identifying opportunities was surprisingly easy.

Supposing that there was someone who excelled at predicting people’s thoughts. The other person’s personality would be determined by the movements of their eyes, the way they breathed, their voice tone, the relationships of power in their background, their social position and other such things, so one would be able to deduce what kind of conduct should be taken in order to derive the “correct answer”. It seemed like magic at first glance, but it was no more than the result of someone continuously keeping watch on another person for many years.

Since this was a strategy against individual matches, the robbers needed a slightly better ability to grasp the environment. As they were walking around the city, they incidentally found out that a new gallery was going to open. The opening date was also announced. It appeared that there would be an event only for those concerned on the day before.

No matter the establishment, dealing flawlessly with the inauguration of a new shop was difficult. Even if there were people in it who already had experience working in a gallery, but the use of their abilities to have control over such a situation and proceed with it smoothly was different. Employees would be in quite a panic on the day. If it was a members-only celebration day, there was no mistaking that the original state of the security that should be guarding the gallery would be insufficient.

And so, the robbers had thought, “Aah, if you poke this place, it’ll surely crumble down.”

They did not have any grudges in particular. They had simply judged that they could do it, thus undergoing the assault. The truth was merely that the Artemisia Gallery had been unlucky.

How many hardships the owner had gone through until she was able to open the gallery, had she lived her life bowing her head to other people? How many artists were looking forward to seeing their work exhibited in the gallery? The feelings of such people could be trampled miserably at times.

Not that many people paid any mind to weeds when walking. That was all. Except, this time, the Artemisia Gallery had been lucky about just one thing.

“No good... Hum, excuse me...! She suddenly...!”

A naval captain who loved art...

“Ugh...”

...and the woman who used to be called Leidenschaftlich’s War Maiden were amongst the hostages.

The man who had caused a commotion and pleaded to one of the robbers in a panic raised both of his hands as a display of no resistance. He was a long-haired a man. His slightly curvy dark hair went past his shoulders. Right next to him was a woman holding her stomach and trembling.

“What?”

A few armed men gathered around them.

“It seems her stomach hurts.”

“Just a stomach ache? Leave it alone.”

“You’re telling us to let her go to the bathroom? We still gotta watch these people. Besides, she’s a woman. If someone takes her to the toilet... Well, how much stuff did we get?”

“We’ve piled most of the paintings in the carrier, but there’s still the ornaments. It’s still gonna take a while.”

The robbers had a choice. The option to either silently let her suffer or kindly take her to the restroom. Beating only the men was likely one of their policies. They did not hesitate to make use of violence when needed, but when it was not, it was best to have as least animosity as possible in order to get through with things unobtrusively and quickly take the treasure. It seemed gentlemanly but was a self-righteous thinking.

“What do we do? The Head is...”

“The Head got in the car first. As if we can ask him stuff like this every single time it happens.”

“Head” probably referred to the member worthy of being their chief.

As the quiet exchanges continued in front of the agonizing woman, she finally lay down on the floor while still holding onto her stomach. The man who had appealed about her bad condition shook her shoulders, telling her to “hang in there”.

As if she had received a signal, the woman raised her face slowly. Her gemstone-like blue eyes were visible through the gaps between her disheveled golden hair. She was covering her mouth, perhaps trying not to vomit. Even so, it was easy to tell that the woman’s looks were remarkably good.

“It’s gonna take a while, huh. Besides, we’re gonna need the women later.”

Her eyes locked with one of robber’s as though sucking him in. One would not understand the destructive power that having this woman look up at them from their feet with her eyes wet had, unless they witnessed it themselves.

“Then, I guess it’s okay.”

From the vulgar smile of the man who had said so, one could presume what his intentions were. As the woman was covering her mouth, the robber instructed her to stand up, pointing his gun at her, and then took her to the restroom.

After that, the woman and the robber did not return for a while. Since there were no other people who mustered out the courage to say that they wanted to use the toilet, the period of their absence passed as if it were natural. In the meantime, the gallery’s exhibits were being carried one after another to cars with roof racks parked outside the establishment. The robbers were dressed as employees who worked with the transportation of goods, so even those walking down the street did not think there was anything strange about that work scene.

Once they had finished relocating most of the merchandises, one of the cars left the gallery. The other one that remained parked was meant for the getaway of those who were keeping watch. With the artworks that had been collected for the sake of this day snatched away down to the last one, the gallery was bare. The owner, Artemisia, had all the while been suppressing her cries and shedding tears.

Apparently, those thieves were quite the habitual criminals. They had threatened everyone with armed force upon entering the establishment, robbing people of any resistance, but after that, as long as everyone stayed still, they would do nothing but coldly keep control of the hostages, not even raising their voices. If people did as told, they would not lose their lives. That hope made the hostages obedient. Even though they were robbers, this seamless way of dealing with people was like that of artisans. They did not think of humans as humans.

“Excuse me; I just... want to lend her a handkerchief. That’s all. The sleeves of her clothes are already soaked with tears. Can’t you allow just this much?”

Hearing a voice from the back, Artemisia turned around. It came from one of the artists that she had invited over for today, whom she had known for quite some time. She was shaken by a sense of guilt that she had done something terrible to him as well.

Their first meeting had started at a certain recreational facility, when she peeked from behind while he was painting a landscape. She did not know his occupation, but they kept in touch and she had him show her his art. It seemed he had always been drawing as a hobby. He told her that even most of the people who were close to him did not know he painted, and that he had truly only been doing it for himself.

The busy man had weaved his way through spare time and the work he brought had swayed Artemisia’s senses. At first, he had hesitated at her request to put it on display, but then smiled like a boy and gave her his ready consent, looking happy.

——Aah, God. Please give it back. Please give that fun time back to everyone.

Artemisia was upset and vexed at the fact that the artworks were being stolen, but more than anything, it felt like the regret towards everyone who had been looking forward to this day would split her chest open.

“Hey, he told you to use this.”

He had lent a handkerchief to Artemisia through one of the robbers. Artemisia wiped her tears and managed to lock eyes with him somehow. She then mouthed a “thank you” to him without letting out her voice.

The man smiled. But it was not the smile that Artemisia knew. He was different when he talked about art. She had shivers before she could think. His eyes were not smiling.

“ .”

The man said something to Artemisia. As he had only moved his lips, Artemisia could not tell whether she had been able to read what he tried to convey. She could not, but most likely, he had said:

“It’ll be over soon.”

Eventually, the robbers started to create an atmosphere of evacuation at last.

“Let’s take one person with us until we leave the harbor. Can be a woman or kid. Which do we choose?”

“Woman it is.”

“That guy was playing around with the woman we were planning to use for that, wasn’t he? What happened to him?”

Assuming that they would finally be freed, the hostages started fidgeting. They had faced a disaster and the artworks that they had dedicated their lives to making had been stolen. This joyful day had been repainted into despair. But they were alive. That was the one and only bright side of today. They would not be able to maintain their rationality unless they comforted themselves with that. At any rate, they wanted to hurry and be liberated.

Amongst them, there was a man who merely observed the robbers’ movements in silence all the while. It was the man who had been caring for a woman that had a stomachache, looking worried. Once the woman had been taken to the restroom, he became expressionless, as if he had lost interest in everything. Occasionally, there were moments when he even yawned in secret, as if he had grown sleepy.

“Go call him. We could use that woman as hostage. She’s young, so she can come back walking if we throw her away on the street.”

Hearing these words, the man let out his voice and laughed. By the looks of it, he had not intended to laugh, but wound up doing so. He put a hand to his mouth, but then shrugged and let the robbers see it. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make fun of you. But trying to rape that thing, huh? No matter how many lives you have, it wouldn’t be enough.”

“Hey, what’s with you...? Got a complaint or something...?”

The man kept laughing, as though to say that the robbers’ threatening figures were even more comical. With her eyes, the owner, Artemisia, begged the man provoking the robbers to restrain himself, for she could not afford to lose not only the artworks that she had collected but also a guest that she had invited, yet the man closed one eye at that and replied, “Artemisia, it’s okay.”

No one in this place knew his social status. Or his history.

In the past, Dietfried Bougainvillea used to wield a weapon that could become the world’s best. It was now away from his grasp, but it was not as if their master-servant connection had been completely severed. The beast had a high level of loyalty, so although they had met by chance after a long time, her heart recognized it. That he was the one she had been following in the past – someone worth being served by her. Therefore, the beast would attend him to exhaustion.

Only a limited number of people could handle the beast. The feeling that she had returned to his hands for now was somewhat strange.

“She runs quick.”

“Ha?”

“That’s why it’s the end for you guys. My bad.”

“Hey, shut this dude up.”

As Dietfried had suddenly started talking, the robbers naturally had a doubtful reaction.

“She’s as fast as a deer. And this is the city’s main street, so there are hotels nearby.”

“So, what’re you saying?”

“I left my bodyguards behind to come here today. They’re probably drinking at their room’s bar. There’re also guys among them who know that thing from the time when she was still by my side. I left my hair tie with her, so she should be able to convince them with that. I could predict that you’d take the things you stole to the port. It’s pretty difficult to get away from pursuers on land when you make such a mess in the center of this city. It’s harder to be tracked using the sea route than the land route, right? But the sea route doesn’t work against me. It looks like one vehicle left a while ago, but it’s over by the point they reach the port. You’ll probably go outside now, but if you’re thinking about taking someone along as a hostage, you’d better drop it. Many of my subordinates are hot-blooded. If you rouse them up like that, they’ll probably get too excited. If that happens, you’re the ones who’ll be getting the short end of the stick. No matter how many dead bodies fall down, we can deal with it all we want in the aftermath. We’ll need to get the stories straight, but today’s hostages will surely choose to cooperate with me. Having people trample on the proof of a life that you’ve lived with all your might is painful for anyone.”

The eloquent man did not run out of breath even when speaking nonstop in such a situation. However, this majestic aspect of him was reflected in others’ eyes as dreadful and similar to madness.

The robbers abruptly realized that all the hostages were looking far behind them. They felt that there was something behind them. It was like a ghost, hiding even its flame of life, simply waiting for the orders of its lord.

Outside the windows of the gallery, they could hear the sounds of someone fighting from around the area where the car was parked. Simultaneously, they could hear a faint breathing just behind them.

The respiration of a woman who was out of breath from running loomed over their ears.

“Do it, Violet.” Dietfried raised his thumb and made a swift throat-cutting gesture.

While watching his doll render the robbers unconscious with a strength as overwhelming as a monster eating people, Dietfried reminisced to the past.

——Everything goes around.

He recalled the time when the two of them were stuck in that isolated island.

The beast had been scared when the rescue fleet arrived. So had Dietfried. He would not be able to bear it if more of his comrades were murdered. Hence, he had taken the beast’s hand and guided her to the outside world. In his perception, it was the same as taking the reins.

There were no reins anymore now. No need for him to pull her by the hand when walking, either. There was nothing between them.

Not love, passion, attachment, desire, anything.

“Captain.”

There was nothing, but one thing was for certain.

“Captain Bougainvillea.”

If he called for her, this Auto-Memories Doll would most likely go to the ends of the world to save him. That was her nature.

“I have just returned. Are you unharmed?”

At that moment, the beast was well aware that he had called her name for the very first time. Her eyes were crinkling.

“Yeah.”

Just this much compensation was enough to make the beast smile.

After a little while passed, Leidenschaftlich was embraced by the gentleness of the night.

Summer constellations were decorating the jet-black sky. Just as sunny as it was during daytime, the night sky was twinkling so brightly this evening that it could be called a banquet of stars. The day was about to end in Leidenschaftlich. Today was filled with chaos ever since morning.

While being observed by gathered-up onlookers, the arrest drama that had unfolded in front of the Artemisia Gallery was already coming to a conclusion, its many procedures and processing passed over to the military police. Seeing the stolen artworks safely re-delivered to Artemisia, Dietfried took a breather. His gaze then fleetingly drifted to the side. A dirtied ceramic doll was standing there. A woman beautiful enough to look like such, who shone amidst the night, was standing there. He had to say something to her. As one would expect, he should do that at least now. But he could not think of anything.

——“You did well”. “That wasn’t too bad”. “Good work”. “I commend you”... Which one?

Inside his head, words were being conceived and then disappearing. Just like the dreams that the sleeping children all around Leidenschaftlich were surely seeing right now. They were born and then vanished.

At last, he attempted to open his mouth, “Aren’t you cold?”

“It is summer, after all.”

And ended up talking to her like a man who was unused to inviting women out.

Violet Evergarden, who had been fighting reasonably and in order to protect, was still by Dietfried’s side. It was fitting to say that she had been today’s most meritorious person. The one who had come up with the idea of the arrest operation was Dietfried, but the one who had done all the work for it was Violet.

First, she had put up the woman-with-a-stomachache act and gone with one of the robbers to the restroom. She had then quietly strangled the neck of the man who had reached a hand to her shoulder with her mechanical prosthetic arms, making him pass out.

She had broken out and escaped through the restroom’s window. Rather than going to the military police, she had gone to the hotel that Dietfried instructed her to and notified the naval soldiers, who were enjoying cigarettes and drinks in a room on the top floor, of the circumstances. One of the soldiers, who happened to know her, had been frightened at first, but upon seeing that she had been entrusted with Dietfried’s ribbon, his facial expression changed and he contacted the military police, then informed the port’s security to reinforce their inspections.

Without waiting for them to get ready, she had immediately run back to the Artemisia Gallery and infiltrated it through the same route. A few of the robbers, who had the bad luck of spotting her, fell to the ground with one kick or punch to the abdomen, and so, she had finally returned. As Violet stood behind the remaining robbers while catching her breath, the hostages stared as if she were their safety, but Dietfried was sneering as he looked at her.

Just as ordered, she had saved Dietfried without damaging a single artwork.

“About what happened...”

“It will probably be best not to tell Lord Gilbert. He would worry.”

Upon seeing the last artwork be brought in, Violet took the trolley bag that lay by her feet. She likely intended to go home by herself.

After making her do so much, something similar to guilt was now sprouting within Dietfried. He wound up acknowledging that she, too, was important to someone. That was what he thought after the battle, when he saw Violet stroking her emerald brooch as if to confirm that it was there.

Even though she used to be a wild beast whom no one would mourn if she died.

——Aah, that’s an excuse. It’ll be nothing but an excuse. If so, then I don’t wanna say it.

Back then, when she was by Dietfried’s side, every single day was filled with madness on all accounts. They used to roam around battlefields, fighting from dawn to dusk, growing too accustomed to violence. The war then ended, peace had returned, and he realized that an era in which he could even make art was arriving. That those times were abnormal and the way he felt now was the default.

“I’ll take you home.”

“No need. Your escorts must be waiting, so please, feel free to take your leave, Captain.”

“It’s fine; just this time. I’ll take you home.”

“No need.”

“I’ll take you. Listen up, this is an order.”

“I cannot accept your command.”

“You little... You were taking action like I instructed you to just a while ago.”

“Because it was a state of emergency... Besides, Captain Dietfried, it would be reasonable if I were to take you home, but the opposite is illogical.”

“What’re you talking about? You’re a woman, aren’t you?”

“A woman”. Finding himself asserting this with his own mouth, Dietfried regretted it even more.

The corner of Violet’s lips had a cut and blood was coming out of it. Her ribbon-tie dress was drenched in sweat. Even those who did not sweat much would be like this after such a huge scuffle during summertime.

“I’m calling a carriage. It’s all right; just wait right there. I’ll see you off until you get inside the Evergarden house. And then it’s goodbye. We’ll never see each other again. No matter what you and Gil become, we’ll never see each other again.”

What he had done today to this woman, who had become fully able to accept someone’s love, was not something that a son of the Bougainvillea should ever do to a lady.

After they had hopped into the carriage, a moment of silence went on for a while.

——Is it okay for her to keep such an open secret even though those two are a couple?

Dietfried found himself accidentally concerned about his younger brother’s love life. After all, this situation might be a betrayal to his dearest brother. Gilbert had completely forgiven Dietfried. For pushing the headship succession onto him. For not having any consideration for their family. For forcing an indescribable wild beast onto him. He had forgiven everything.

Thinking back, the only time that he attempted to push Dietfried away, saying he would not forgive him, had been when Dietfried offered Violet to him. He had called it “human trafficking”. Told Dietfried not to be violent with a child.

Most likely, those two were each other’s only exception from the very beginning. There was probably no pardoning what Dietfried had done to Violet today. Gilbert would forgive most things. Save for matters related to the one and only thing that was most important to him. Being hated by a loved one. This could cast a shadow over anyone’s heart, regardless of how old they were.

“It is all right.” The voice that cut through the silence was thrown at him as if to soothe him down. The words sounded almost as if she had perceived Dietfried’s uneasiness. “If, by any chance... word ends up reaching him through someone else about this case, I will definitely defend you, Captain Dietfried.”

“‘Defend’, you say?”

“To tell the truth, I often get involved in large-scale incidents without Major knowing. But I return without fail. To Leidenschaftlich. I will return today as well. Therefore, we are all right.”

“What do you do out there?”

“We were separated for much too long. Therefore, we have many moments that the other does not know about in the first place. Perhaps even now, too. I have work to do and so does he. We have limited time to see each other. However, I will definitely always return to Major. He knows this as well. Even when we are apart, that person is the only one who occupies my mind. I am not sure if I convey it to him properly, but that is how it is.”

Her statements were something that would normally make him burst into laughter, but Dietfried was unable to do so.

——When did you become like that?

Dietfried hated Violet. Several factors had induced his emotions to it.

——Now you can correspond to someone’s love.

He saw himself overlap with her. Her subservience to adults and the way that she herself wanted it disgusted him. He despised the wild beast that did not yearn for freedom. Despised the fact that she had been trained by someone to be this way. Despised everything. To begin with, Dietfried did not have many things that he liked.

Even the number of people who could become kind had a limit.

The truth was that, even if he wanted to be kind, it was no longer possible. He had prayed to God for it countless times in the past. However, unable to achieve this, a man named Dietfried Bougainvillea existed.

——O God, I want to, he begged a certain Someone in his mind for the first in a long time. Perhaps since his childhood.

Still, this sort of being did not give any reply to calls. Even now, he had no idea if his plea had reached Him. It was certainly impossible. His and Violet’s stars were in a position that would not radically change.

Nevertheless, for some reason, he had the overwhelming desire to ask someone for forgiveness today.

——I wanna go back.

Not even he knew where to.

——Hurry and be over, this day, today and the time I have to spend with her.

He was not annoyed.

——O God, I want to...

But painfully miserable.

“Captain.”

The carriage ran amongst trees dyed in the darkness of the night. A cool voice echoed amidst them.

Violet was looking at the scenery outside. She was observing the moon, which chased after them, no matter how far, far apart they were.

The moon was something that would continue to exist forever. Unlike stories. Regardless of whether Dietfried concerned himself with it, everything about his story would come to a closing one day as well. Demise would arrive even to the things that he did not wish to ever be over. Even the feelings he had now would end.

“How was I today?”

“What?”

“Did my work earn your satisfaction today?”

Dietfried could not read the intentions behind Violet’s question at all. She was someone whose emotions he could not read in the first place, but it was even harder to understand the meaning of that sentence.

“What do you want to say?”

Silence.

“Hey, just say it straight. Don’t be dodgy with me.”

“All right,” the cool voice entered his ears once more. Such coldness resembled the night, but it never left his ears, easy as it was to catch.

Violet turned her neck and cast her gaze at him. Slowly, blue and green eyes blended with each other.

“I...”

Bathed in moonlight, she was simply, purely beautiful, enough to take Dietfried’s breath away.

“When I was with you, Lord Dietfried, my work was never satisfactory. Now that I became an adult, have I finally been able to repay my debt... with my work?”

“What d’you mean by ‘debt’?”

His voice was hoarse. He suddenly felt as if this icy woman had robbed his entire body of its heat. The inside of his mouth was extremely dry.

“I mean everything. It all started when you brought me from that island. I am the way I am now because you entrusted me to Ma... to Lord Gilbert.”

“If you’d stayed with me, probably nothing good would’ve happened.”

“How would I be if I had continued to serve you?”

These words became a bullet and pierced Dietfried’s heart. He felt as if his breathing would stop at the unexpected question. Things had been like that since the distant past. Dietfried would reconfirm time and time again that she was a woman who could have become a lethal weapon for him.

“So you also imagine a hypothesis... of ‘what if’,” her exquisitely cold voice rang within the darkness. Upon being asked, “You too?”, Violet nodded.

That was his line, Dietfried thought, but Violet then sent his gemstone eyes a dream-like gaze. His existence might be devoid of realism to her.

Violet began to whisper. If only she had disobeyed that order back then. If only she had rushed to him a step faster at that time.

“Back then, if”. “Back then, if”. “Back then, if”.

She could not bring myself not to think that, if only she had had this extra step, he would not have lost that emerald eye.

“Besides, I wonder... if I had managed to protect him back then...”

She had to let go of her most beloved lord’s hand and was entrusted to someone else as if she had been thrown away.

“...I would not have had to spend that time away from Major.”

Thinking back, she had always been abandoned and then picked up by somebody. She should have been used to it. That was the star she had been born under.

She was originally a foreign body to this world and was supposed to have been eliminated. Her destiny had also flowed in this way. The reason why Violet had rebelled against her sectioned path, despite having been tamely submitting herself to it, was that the other was special.

——I also threw her away.

He had thrown his home away. Thrown away his little brother, who cried in protest. And thrown away this beast.

“I also wonder what would have happened if you had not left me with Major.”

This woman.

“But all of these are akin to dreams, crossing my mind and fading away. After passing through countless ‘if’s, I...”

He had pushed this woman onto his brother and forsaken her. Looking at her made him sick. He was also scared of her. Most importantly, he would have stopped being himself. This terrified him.

“And now, I have become an Auto-Memories Doll and am spending a night with you.”

This woman possessed an element that transmuted people.

“Y’know, you’ll be alone one day. You’re the one who’s got the longer lifespan, aren’t you?”

Violet closed her eyes at those words. If she had pictured numerous “if”s, this would obviously come to mind as well.

“I do not know.”

“If that happens, what’re you gonna do?”

“I do not know. But are you not the same as me when it comes to this? You love him, right?”

“I’m... I’m the older one. I’ll be gone sooner.”

“No one knows about that. But... if, one day... I do become alone... if I am left living by myself... my order will still be valid. I will probably live on.”

If she ended up living by herself, this supposition was the cruelest of things to the beast. Just what did he want to do by making her say this now?

Thinking back, ever since they had first met, he had not known how to deal with her. Should he have protected her? Killed her? Protected? Killed? Or perhaps...

“That is why I write letters every day. Even if they do not reach him, I write letters to Major every single day.”

Silence.

“Captain, what will you do?”

“Me, huh? I... let’s see. Paint, I guess.”

“A painting or Major?”

“That’s right.”

“May I go see it?”

To Dietfried Bougainvillea, this wild beast was both a woman and a monster from the very beginning. She was now as far-off as a dream.

“You’re the only one of my relatives who knows I paint. Do whatever you want.”

——O God, I want to be a good person.

#violet evergarden #fyeahvioletevergarden #veedit #dietfried bougainvillea #kyoani #kyoto animation #akatsuki kana #takase akiko #my translation

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xlovelyyoongix · 4 years

Text

happy birthday | myg

♥ summary: When a birthday foot massage turns into something a bit more interesting 18+ ( established relationship)

♥ paring: slight dom yoongi! x f. sub reader (established relationship)

♥ warnings: SMUT! swearing, female receiving, multiple orgasms , over stimulation, creampie, squirting and use of a sex toy.

♥ a/n: Not gonna lie I wrote this for myself on my birthday because I’m such a simp for Min Yoongi. Also, I apologize that this post is a day late. I watched Day 1 and Day 2 of the MOTS 7 concert and I was so sleep deprived so please forgive me. Enjoy! Feedback is welcome!

You always hated being the center of attention, in a room full of crowded bodies with all eyes on you was never your forte. So, when you explained to your boyfriend of 2 years that you wanted a simple celebration of your birthday, he promised you just that. Your special day consisted of breakfast in bed, shopping, a movie, and dinner at your favorite restaurant. To others, a birthday spent like such would be considered a boring one, but for you, a day spent with Yoongi by your side was perfect.

"This was such a fun day!" Your exhausted body pushed through the door for your apartment, dropping your shopping bags on the living room table. "I'm beat!" Kicking off your shoes, your body collapses on the couch, releasing a heavy breath as your lashes flutter shut to relax.

Yoongi closes the door behind him, chuckling at your animated demeanor. "I'm glad you had a great time,__" Before anything else, Yoongi escaped into the back room, only to reemerge with a few items in his hands, an eager smile stretched across his face. "But it's not over yet."

Your lips curve in question, "Huh?" and the moment your eyes blink open, a romantic flickering of dim orange light begins to dance across the apartment walls along with the soothing scent of lavender. Your brows crinkle together, dimples digging into your cheeks upon realizing, Yoongi lit your favorite scented candle. "What's this about?" You pull yourself up with a toothy grin in observance of the scene before you.

A twinkle of delight shimmers within Yoongi's onyx orbs, taking a seat on the carpet between your legs. "Your last gift of the day." His proud gummy smile gleaming up at you.

It wasn't until Yoongi gently placed your foot onto his lap, removing your socks, that you realized what he was doing. Your cheeks lighten with an innocent hue as his long fingers brush against your tiny toes. "Y-Yoon?" You question, with a rapid heart beat.

"Hm?" He questions, pulling a bottle of oil out of the silk bag only to pour a modest amount into his hand. "You act like I've never touched you before,__" His hooded eyes dart up at you, though only for a second before talented fingers are massaging the warming oil into the balls, arch, and toes of your foot.

"Mhm..." A small moan vibrates from the back of your throat, the newly found pleasure rippling throughout your being, practically melting your body into the sofa. "Feels good~" You purr.

Yoongi takes pride in the blissful expression plastered across your face. "I'm happy you're enjoying yourself." Voice music to your ears as his fingers work between your toes, ankle, and back up the sole of your foot. "Just relax and let me take care of you."

"Okay." Your lashes flutter shut, body loosening up as the soothing scent of lavender sways within your nostrils. Yoongi, being skillful with his hands, takes his time and massages all the spots you seem to like most. He doesn't speak, merely allowing you to fully embrace your very own euphoria.

You're unable to recall a time your body experienced this type of tranquility; with work and school swallowing your livelihood, you're surprised you're able to even manage a relationship with your hectic schedule. Always a paper due, an extra shift that needed to be worked. There were times you barely even had time to sleep...

"SLEEP?!" Realizing your body was a bit too tranquil enough to doze off, your back arches off the couch, frantic eyes darting across the room in search of your boyfriend. Had it already been that long he chose to leave for the night? "Yoongi?"

"Don't worry, you weren't asleep for too long." A teasing smirk pulls across his full cheeks, taking a seat on the floor between your legs again. "Had to wash my hands and get your other present." Unlike before, his demeanor changed. His hooded eyes, a shade darker than normal, tongue lapping across his bottom lip, along with a seductive arched brow. Surely, Yoongi was up to something.

"I thought the foot massage was my last gift." Your head tilts with confusion.

Yoongi chuckles at your obliviousness, placing a pink rectangular box on your lap. "This is just the other part of your present." He nudges you to open it.

You sport Yoongi an -what are you up to- expression, only for your curiosity to become interrupted by the heaviness of the box. What else could he possibly be gifting you with after a day of shopping and dinner? "Okay." Your fingers slowly unravel the bow, careful with removing the lid. The moment your eyes make contact with what's inside, your jaw drops in awe at the objects.

"I saw you googling them a few weeks back. I figured I'd get the set for you." There's a moment of hesitation in Yoongi's tone, your silence instantly forcing him to contemplate his gift. "I-It is what you wanted,.. right?"

Your eyes bounce back to your blonde-haired boyfriend, noticing the doubt trickling across his expression. "Yes, Yoongi, it is!" You praise, heart fluttering that your boyfriend paid that much attention to notice your personal interests. "Thank you so much!" It was a set of 3 clear glass dildos, all shape and length in different sizes, with adorable pink, heart-shaped handles at the end.

Regaining his confidence, his blond head slips between your legs, lips ghosting over the sensitive spots of your inner thighs. “Ya, know..." Mint breath slapping across your skin, causing a delightful shiver up your spine. "We can test them out right now if you want." His jet eyes cutting dangerously at you before placing a kiss on the spot that causes your abdomen to tense deliciously.

With the tempting look in Yoongi's eyes and the grip he has on your thighs, your body heats with desire, feminine core throbbing against the now annoying material of your panties. "I-I mean..." You swallow hard, attempting to catch your staggered breath. "D-do you want to?"

A dimple forms in the crevice of Yoongi's cheeks, snickering at your timid question. "Of course I want to, kitten..." He purrs, fingers working to unbuttoning the metal of your jean shorts. "But today isn't about me, is it?" dark eyes rolling up to you while the echo of your zipper tauntingly fills the room.

If you blinked, you would have missed the dark, carnal switch that happened deep within Yoongi's eyes. Clearly, he was ready for whatever the night had in store. You gulp, "No," You answer back modestly but also notice the rising heat growing between your thighs. "It's about me tonight." You answer back with a nod, slightly more confident than last.

Yoongi snickers devilishly at your reply. "Yes, it is." He pulls at your jean shorts, helping you shimmy out of them. Yoongi gestures at your shirt with a tempting bite of his lip only for it to disappear behind you a second later, leaving your body in nothing but a black bra and panties set.

Your boyfriend takes in the magnificent sight of your hair framing around your adorable cheeks, romantic flames of candlelight across your skin and eyes, and your practically nude body that lit a hungry flame within his core. "Fuck..." Unable to hold back any longer, Yoongi lunges forward, harshly gripping onto your thighs as if to hold you in place while his plush lips place rough kisses and love bites along the innards of your thigh.

"Mhm, Yoon..." Your hips stutter forward, a zap of electricity zipping up your spine, awakening your body with a fevering heat.

As Yoongi's tongue laps across the sensitive parts of your inner thigh, his sneaky index hooks onto the wetness of your panties, slowly sliding down the flimsy fabric before tossing them over his shoulder, not caring where they landed. "Hope you're ready for your gift." His tone holding velvety dominance as his lust-filled eyes peer up at you.

Before you could even mutter a response, Yoongi's crafty tongue laps across your throbbing slit, hands spreading your thighs open for better access. You release a whimper, and the moment his lips latch onto your pulsing clit, your hips snap forward, tongue slipping and sliding between your folds, leaving you a stuttering mess.

Taking his time, Yoongi lapped figure eights around your sensitive nub, large hands cupping at your ass cheeks, sliding you forward into his mouth. "You taste so good, kitten." Words vibrating against your delicate flesh as he spoke.

Even with his tongue moving so deliciously between your slit, body floating into cloud nine, the flame burning inside of you craved more. "S-so good b-but...please~" your walls clenching around nothing in dire need to be stretched. "Inside~." You mewl with a needy wiggle to the edge of the couch.

Yoongi cocks a brow, peeking up at you while working your marvelous wet pussy. "You can't wait anymore, can you." He teases with a confident chuckle. "Your pussy is always so needy for attention." He cheekily mutters, slowly slipping two long digits into the slick of your folds.

"Fuck!" You yelp at the instant pleasure of Yoongi’s curving fingers locate the spongy surface of your inner walls. Back arching off the couch only to roll deeper into Yoongi's thrusts and tongue. "So good..." Managing past the dryness of your throat to whimper.

Yoongi's fingers pump in and out of your gushy slit with ease, tongue attacking your clit for maximum effect. "I want you to cum." the curve of his digits jabbing at your g-spot. You whimper a moan, walls tightening around his knuckles, sending waves of pleasure through your core. "I want your pretty pussy to cum all over my face, kitten."

Feeling your orgasm quickly approaching, the pit of your abdomen tightens in a knot, tight pussy swallowing long fingers, teasing at your approaching release. "Y-Yoongi..." You pant, fog of tears swelling at the corners of your eyes, cheeks a misty hue with thighs opening as wide as humanly possible for your boyfriend's assault on your pussy. "G-gonna cum.... Uughh." Your fingers thread through Yoongi's blonde tresses with a yank, guiding the male's mouth all the places you need him most.

Yoongi snickers at the aggression you have with his hair but doesn't let up. Feeling your soaking muscles clenching around his digits, your fucked out expression says it all, that you're ready to burst at any given moment. "Be a good girl," His fingers pick up their pace, assaulting the sweet spots of your insides at devilish speeds. "and cum for me."

As if on-demand, the tight knot built in the pit of your abdomen finally bursts, sending your body into an eruption of pleasure. "FUCK!" Your back arches off the couch, vision clouded with an assortment of colors, legs collapsing into jelly, as your sopping pussy leaks creamy arousal.

Plunging from the high of your orgasm, your exhausted body plops back onto the sofa, glistening sweat built across your brow with lungs heaving for breath. "So good." You murmur with what little strength you have left.

Yoongi snickers at your weakened expression. "We're not done yet,__" His words are sly as he opens the birthday box that contains a multitude of glass pleasure wands. "Which one should I use on you first?" He takes a second to observe, index tapping his chin in thought. "Got it." Picking out the wand, he knew would send you over the edge.

"H-huh?" Before you could comprehend what was happening, a sudden stretching of something strong and firm slips inside you. "Hmhmm." Your body awakens again, teeth digging into the bottom of your lip as your hips unknowingly roll forward, allowing the glass dildo to plug into your soaking slit.

"You almost forgot about this, didn't you?" Yoongi grins devilishly, the deep ridges of the wand satisfying your greedy entrance.

Your body shutters with delight at the feeling, lashes fluttering as your neck rolls back. With your body still processing the high of your first orgasm, you feel a new wave of arousal collapse over you. "You wanna make me cum again, Yoongi~?" Your once shy innocence, now engulfed by the sparks of lust dancing within your hazed eyes.

Yoongi wiggles a brow at your confidence. "You know it, kitten," he answers back almost too quickly. "Let's see what this thing can do." And without the need for direction, Yoongi slips the rigid object back into the hilt of your core, tilting at just the right angle.

"Shiiiiiit." Yoongi picks up his speed, your ass cheeks bouncing on the glass dildo as he rams it in and out as if it were his profession. Your walls take a liking to the newly discovered object, aroused and clutching tightly around the ridged glass, welcoming it deep within your pussy like the slut it was.

Being the generous pussy eater that he was, Yoongi positioned his mouth against your overwhelming heat once again, plush lips latching onto the sensitive nub, nibbling and sucking all the while thrusting your new favorite toy into your shameful entrance.

A new wave of pleasure zaps through you. "F-fuck, Yoon!" Unapologetically, you grab at your boyfriend's blonde hair, pulling and yanking at the tresses as if your life depended on it. Your brows furrowed together and teeth tugging at your bruised lips as your foggy gaze peers between your legs at the man feasting upon you as if he were starving. "Yoongi, s-so good." Your neck rolls, the familiar tightness in your abdomen returns, threatening to rupture your release.

Your pussy is gushing, sending streams of milky arousal down the shaft of the dildo and onto Yoongi's glistening chin. Even though he couldn't feel your muscles tightening within you, he knew you were reaching the peak of your second orgasm; your words slurred, legs shaking uncontrollably along with the death grip you had on his hair. Yoongi smirks, your incoherent and shaken state, stroking his ego.

Your body uncontrollably humps into Yoongi's mouth, hips matching the rhythm of the glass wand slamming into the wall of your cervix, hitting all the spots you need it most. "P-please..." You're a whimpering mess. "Baby, m-make me cum again...wanna so bad..." Addicted to the taste of release, you plea your boyfriend to fuck another orgasm out of you like that dirty whore that you were.

More than happy to oblige your request, Yoongi stiffens his tongue, lapping over your glistening clitoris at record speed while your soaked pussy sucks in the rigid wand. "Cum,__" He orders with a stern tone.

As if Yoongi's voice was the switch to your light, the tightness within your abdomen snaps on queue. "Shit!" You're crying out again, white noise clogging the tunnels of your ears as your vision fogs with an explosion of different colors. Your lashes flutter the tears from your eyes all the while attempting to catch your staggering breath as the second orgasm pulls from your body. "W-wow,..." Your nearly horse voice stutters out. "T-that was great I-"

The moment your glossy orbs stutter open, you're immediately met with an immaculate sight. It was none other than Yoongi standing proudly naked before you. Smooth, ivory skin that seemed to glow under the romantic candlelight. A hard chest that sculpted into a lean abdomen, showcasing a happy trail of hair leading down to the object you desired most to see. "We're still not done, kitten," Yoongi smirks devilishly, gripping at the base of his thick shaft, standing proudly.

You gulp, the curve of his impressive dick bobbing against his lower abdomen, thick veins protruding from the sides of its girthy shaft. Hungry, Your eyes follow up to the summit of it's red, angry tip, slit oozing delicious pre-cum. You lick your lips at the sight, aroused walls clenching around nothing.

Yoongi stands over you, stroking his monstrous dick with a bit of dominance. While he patiently took care of the needs and desires of your body, Yoongi's dick grew angry and more impatient against the fabric of his boxers. Finally freed, it was more than ready to plug deep into the warm, wet sleeve of your walls. "Tell me what you want, kitten." Yoongi's voice dipping an ungodly tone.

"I-I..." You know precisely what you want, for your boyfriend to fuck you so hard you won't be able to walk in the morning. The heat and slick of your previous orgasms, still fresh between your legs, ready to be put to good use, but you wonder if your body can take it—the anxious build-up of another orgasm. You swallow hard at the thought, eyes faced with the perfectly crafted perfection, which was Yoongi's hard dick, a erection you didn't want to go to waste. "I w-want." Your eyes flicker back up at Yoongi, shimmering orbs glowing with desire and lust. "I want you to fuck me, Yoongi." Your voice, dripping with confidence.

Leaving no time for his response, Yoongi pens your legs back with a growl, using his free hand to align his angry tip to the soak of your heated entrance. His hooded eyes cut to you, giving one final look, "Happy birthday, kitten." and as quickly as the words fell from his lips, Yoongi sends his hips soaring forward, plugging his dick deep within your walls as if he were a missing piece to your puzzle

You wince at the sting of his stretch, girth unmatched to any finger or sex toy that could be purchased. "Yoongi~" Due to the multiple orgasms your body endured, the stretch of your entrance was met with a tasteful mix of pain and pleasure. Your orbs slamming shut, releasing a stream of lovely tears from the corners of your eyes.

"Fuck your so tight." Yoongi grunts, gripping onto your thighs as if to hold you both in place. "So fuckin' wet." He leans in, his button nose ghosting over yours as his lustful jet eyes peer into your glossed orbs. "My perfect peach." It was then his lips forced onto yours, tongue dancing within your mouth to give you the sweet taste of your arousal.

You moan into Yoongi's mouth, welcoming the taste of your own pussy as thick thrusts pump into your core. "S-so good." You're a whimpering mess, hips rutting forward as the song of slapping skin echoes throughout the living room.

Typically, Yoongi was slow and patient when making love to you, but something about watching your pussy orgasm and your lips moaning his name awakened a carnal side of him, hidden deep within his psyche. "Sorry, I'm so rough...mhm." Yoongi grunts, eyes rolling while your juicy walls hug around his hostile dick.

"I-its okay..." Your fingers grip onto Yoongi's shoulder blades, nails digging into his flesh as he pounded into the spot that made you see stars. "Fuck, just don't stop." Your walls begin to clutch around him, along with the tight build-up of the familiar knot in your abdomen; however, this time is different. A pressure building behind the structure of your pubic bone that you desperately want to find the reason behind. "Y-Yoongi...." Somehow your release feels out of reach "I-I don't think I-I c-can." You whimper, feeling as though your maximum peak was untenable.

"Y-yes, you can, kitten." Yoongi huffs out, placing kissing and love bits along the lobe of your ear and the curve of your neck. "Cum for me again." Knowing exactly what would bring you over the edge, Yoongi snakes his arm between the two of your sweaty bodies, fingers locating the ball of your clitoris, slowly swiping across the needy nub before attacking with rougher speeds

"Naha!" An electric jolt zips throughout your body, causing your back to arch off the couch. Your senses are on fire. The sweat dripping down your flesh, Yoongi's breath puffing into the shell of your ear, skin rubbing against one another as his thick dick takes you savagely. Was there ever a better feeling than this?

Like a volcano about to erupt, your body begins to shake, unholy moans screeching from your throat, as the knot in the pit of your abdomen becomes incredibly tighter as a sudden urge to pee spikes. "F-fuck Yoon, I... I-I t-think I'm gonna..." And just like that, the build-up inside you snaps, an explosion stronger than ever before. "Fuck!" Your soaking pink muscles push out, liquid squirting out like a waterfall as colors of red, purple and blue, fog your blissful vision, body going limp

Your warm wetness sprays across Yoongi's pelvis, lines of pearling liquid trickling down his flesh. "Kitten, did you just...?" He silent for a moment upon realizing what exactly just happened. You squirted, the evidence of your unholy release trickling to Yoongi's shaft, still plugged into you. "So. Fuckin. Hot!" The carnal need to release overpowers Yoongi, large hands grabbing hold of your hips, and he snaps his thrusts at record speed. With your walls sucking in Yoongi's girth, the tease of release trickled throughout his body. "F-Fuck, kitten, gonna..." He releases a throaty grunt. "Shit!" One final thrust and he was over the edge, ropes of semen coating your insides like a painter, his canvas.

For a moment, Yoongi's body is in tranquil bliss, limply plummeting onto the couch to lay beside you. The two of your eyes following the shadows of candle-light flames dancing around the walls as you gasp for air. "Wow." Yoongi snickers with a toothy grin. "I can't believe you squirted." He comments proudly.

You giggle. "I didn't even know I could do that." Responding between breaths.

"Well, know that I know how to make you squirt," Yoongi pulls you into his chest, fingers caressing your hair as he places a kiss atop of your glistening forehead. "I'll be sure to fuck that glass dildo into you more often." His lips pull into a smile while taking in the beautiful sight, which was you... "Happy Birthday, __."

a/n: this is the first time I’ve posted a smut that is this detailed. So, if you have any pointers or recommendations on how I can improve, please don’t hesitant to reach out. Thanks for reading! ♥

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sinfulshelbys · 4 years

Text

Slice of Heaven | Shelby! reader

Alfie Solomons x Shelby! reader

Warnings: soft! alfie, a lot of smut, the whole secret relationship trope

Request: more secret relationship with alfie and shelby sis please

word count: 2.7k

just some cute (and smutty) moments with our boy alfie and y/n shelby :”)

Alfie treasures these moments.

The ones where he’s able to be vulnerable, so completely free of responsibility – and they all happen with you. His hand plays with your fingers, mindlessly twirling the gold band that is around your ring finger. His wife.

“I don’t want to take it off,” your soft voice filled his ears – a sigh pushing past your lips, as you lifted your head off his bare chest.

“Yer’ brothers will kill me if they knew,” he muttered back, voice low. He hated this; the constant reminder in the back of both your minds that if your older brothers found out about what the two of you did in secret the results would be disastrous.

Threading your fingers through his, you shift so your entire body was resting on-top of Alfie’s bare one. A gentle smile graced his usually harsh features as he ran his hand through your hair; moving it to cup your cheek as you leant into his touch.

“I’m your wife,” you beamed and you looked so adorable that Alfie swore his heart almost leapt out of his chest. “Can you believe that, Alf?”

He chuckled, chest rumbling under your palm. “Yeah, love. I can.”

Knowing that words wouldn’t be enough to express how much love you held for your husband in that moment, you pressed your lips to his. His beard tickled against your cheeks, causing you to smile through the kiss; Alfie reciprocating the action as he sat up, shifting so you were straddling him.

“’m gonna fuck you again,” he laughed against your skin as he pressed kisses down your neck, causing you to stifle your own giggles into the crook of his neck.

It didn’t take long for Alfie’s hand to find it’s way in-between your thighs that were spread over his lap. You relish in the feeling, his thumb rubbing small circles against your swollen clit as his index and middle fingers enter you – soft sounds leaving your mouth in melodies that Alfie swears he could listen to every day.

A soft “shit” flew past Alfie’s lips when you ran a thumb over his tip, pumping him a few times before you lifted yourself from Alfie’s hand – running his length up and down your folds and with a fluent movement he was inside you – filling you completely.

With a shaky gasp you slowly began rolling your hips against Alfie’s who had his eyes closed in bliss. It was erotic, sensual and you both got lost in the feeling. Rough and calloused palms on soft skin – gripping your hips that you were sure you would have marks from his fingertips there in a couple of hours.

Your hand rested against the plaster wall above both of your heads, Alfie lifting his hips to meet yours in rhythmic thrusts. Your eyes shut at the sensation, head falling against Alfie’s – softly biting into his shoulder. Alfie delivered a particularly harsh thrust, hitting your that spot causing a loud cry to emit from your throat at the sensation.

“Did that feel good, eh?” He grunted into your ear, you could only nod and let out a whine as he did it again. “Yeah? Like that?”

Your legs were practically shaking as Alfie’s thrusts became erratic, chasing both of your highs as you clenched around him – causing him to let out a sharp hiss.

Your skin flushed under Alfie’s touch, nothing but chants of his name leaving your mouth as you came around his cock. He climaxes a couple of seconds after you, your body falling against his as you both tried to steady your breathing – reeling in the aftershocks of ecstasy.

Pressing a kiss to your forehead, Alfie gently tilted your chin to look at you – a lazy, adoring smile gracing his features.

“I love you, Mrs. Solomons.”

He did. Truly.

~~~~~~~

Your left hand felt bare as you walked to the distillery.

Alfie had left the house just past noon – getting ready for the meeting that you were both required to attend with your brothers, which meant that you had to take your wedding ring off so they wouldn’t find out.

The walk from the apartment that Tommy had set you up with in London, when he gave you the job of taking care of business in Camden Town for him, was a mere five-minute walk to Alfie’s work.

Upon reaching the bakery, you gave a nod to Ollie who ushered you inside, allowing you to walk straight to Alfie’s office. Not bothering with knocking, you entered the room, Alfie’s head instantly lifting to see you – a bright smile growing on his features.

Your eyes roamed his figure, the way his white shirt tightened around his biceps as he tossed the paper he was reading aside – taking his legs down from the desk.

“You’re here early,” he grinned, beckoning you closer by curling his hand towards you. With a smile as wide as his, you walked around to his side of the desk; perching yourself on the edge right in front of him.

“Thought I’d have you for myself for a little while before my brothers arrive,” you teased, revelling in the feeling of his hands running up your thighs.

“Yeah, you didn’t have enough of me this morning?”

Snickering, you leaned forward to capture him in a kiss – pausing when you were but mere millimetres apart.

“Not nearly enough,” you whispered before finally meeting his lips with yours. “How long do we have until they arrive?”

“I’d give it a good twenty-minutes, right. What do you have planned?”

“I want you to fuck me in your office, Mr. Solomons,” you felt Alfie’s hands tighten their hold on you at your words. “Right here on your desk. Bend me over and take me as yours.”

“Right, yeah, well I can’t disappoint the missus now, can I?”

Before you knew it, your pretty blue skirt was bunched up around your hips, Alfie’s hand on the back of your neck keeping you in place as he fucked you over his desk.

Your mouth was parted as loud moans left your lips, gently wrapping his hand around your throat – Alfie pulled you up so your back was flushed against his chest; fingers tilting your head in his direction.

“You look so pretty like this,” he grunted, his thrusts relentless.

Alfie was fucking you so well that you couldn’t form any words other than his name and the occasional ‘fuck’ – causing Alfie to lean down, whispering a “watch your fucking language” in your ear; the new angle causing you to cry out in pleasure.

Your hands could barely hold you up, as you reached your high – Alfie reaching his only a few seconds after you. Alfie was gentle as he pulled out of – his hands carefully pushing your skirt back down as you tried to regulate your breathing.

“One day, right, I swear that one day yer’ going to kill me with your wild Shelby genetics,” Alfie snickered as you turned around with a bright smile on your face – his hand gently brushing away strands of your hair that stuck to your flushed cheeks.

“Not if my brothers kill you first,” you snickered, rushing around to the other end of the desk when knocks on the door filled the air around you. “Which they might do if they catch you with your pants still down.”

Alfie could only burst into genuine laughter as he pulled his pants up in a haste, shaking his head at how much he loved you.

~~~~~~~

Music was the last thing Alfie expected to hear on a Sunday morning.

Nonetheless, there was definitely music coming from the parlour of his house downstairs and his dog, Cyril, who he was certain fell asleep next to him last night was nowhere in sight.

With an exasperated groan, Alfie rubbed his eyes but he was in no rush to get out of bed – knowing that if he was in any imminent danger the intruder definitely wouldn’t be playing ‘The Boy I Love’ as loud as the record players volume would go.

Clambering out of bed, Alfie made quick work of getting clothed – running his hand over his unruly ginger beard that definitely deserved some time, love and care. With heavy steps, he made his way out of his room and down the flight of stairs – stopping on the last step at the sight before him.

There you were, like a fucking angel, clothed in nothing but one of his white shirts and a pair of stockings – dancing around the parlour, while singing along with the song with Cyril at your feet.

He chuckles and lets a wide smile grow on his face as he leans against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, watching in amusement and all he could think was; this is it.

This was his happy ending.

He watches as you twirl in circles while singing into the spatular in your grasp, before your eyes catch sight of his figure and you stop – almost tripping over your two-left feet.

“Alf!” You beam, before rushing over to him and grab his hand – pulling him into the middle of the room. “Dance with me?”

Your words are coated with honey – almost as sweet as you and Alfie can’t find any reason as to say no. So with a nod in confirmation, he watches as you rush to change the record to a slow song before you slide over to him with giggles falling past your pretty lips.

Your arms wrap around his neck and his slither to rest on your hips as he begins to sway you both on the spot. He leans his head down to rest his forehead against yours causing both your eyes to shut and he just knows that this is all he wants for the rest of his life. All he needs is you – and Cyril – and anywhere would feel like home.

You are home.

~~~~~~~

“Alf, can you read to me?”

Alfie raises a brow at your question as he looks down at your head in his lap – his hand playing with your hair pausing mid-twirl. He blinks once as you hold up the book in your hands, an adorable pout on your lips.

“Why?” He questions, instinctively taking the book and flipping to the page you had dog-tagged.

“Because I’m getting sleepy and can’t focus on the words,” you yawn, the tiny sound causing his heart to flutter. “And your voice is soothing.”

Alfie bops your nose before he shifts so you were sitting – moving you under his left arm as your palm rests on his chest. Pulling on his glasses that were hung around his neck, Alfie clears his throat as he begins to read from where you left off – immersing himself in the tale of The Great Gatsby.

He briefly pauses every few sentences to read over little markings you had made on things you liked or hated about a certain quirk the characters had or something interesting about the plot. Pretty soon he had finished the chapter, tagging the new page before shutting the book before looking down at your sleeping figure.

Your hand had formed into a tight fist, clenching the thin fabric of his shirt between your fingers as your lips parted and tiny snores flew past them. Pressing a kiss to your forehead, Alfie takes his time to shift your sleeping body until he was laying down on the lounge with you on his chest.

He falls asleep not even a minute later – arm wrapped protectively around you.

~~~~~~~

Alfie might’ve disguised his distillery as a bakery – but the man had never spent more than five minutes in an actual kitchen. So when you had suggested baking a pie together, he instantly knew it was going to be disastrous.

He could vividly remember the tales that your aunt Polly had told him of your unfortunate kitchen endeavours. The older woman being the only one in the Shelby family that you had informed of your relationship and while she was whole-heartedly against it at first, you had convinced her to have dinner with you and Alfie one night, which she reluctantly accepted on account of your tears.

By the end of the night she was sending Alfie home with a kiss on his cheek and promise to come over for dinner again the same time next week – which he did. Eventually those dinners lead to Polly being the only one in your family who was there to witness your marriage – promising to keep the union secret until you were both ready to face your brothers.

“No Alf you’ve got to mix the wet ingredients into the dry,” you pushed his hands away from the bowl before pausing, your eyebrows furrowing. “Or is it the dry with the wet?”

“Does it matter, aye?” Alfie questioned you, wrapping his arms around your waist – resting his head in the crook of your neck. “Won’t it still end up the same?”

“I don’t know!” You stubbornly huffed causing Alfie to laugh before he twirled you around in his arms, pinning you between his body and the counter top.

“Why didn’t you ask Pol for help? Yeah, I think she would’ve been more help that yer’ husband in this situation.”

Your laughter rings through the kitchen as you began fiddling with the buttons of his vest, he grins a little before beginning to pepper kisses down your neck to your collar bone – his fingers pushing down the straps to your dress.

“Alf-” you whispered as his hands gripped under your thighs to lift you onto the counter. “This isn’t very hygienic.”

“The kitchen, yeah, is for food to be made and served right?” You nod to his question, tilting your head as he begins to bunch your dress up your hips. “I’m just going to eat the meal that I’m given.”

He could only cockily grin as you pushed him down onto his knees like he was at church – and by all things Holy was he going to worship you.

~~~~~~~

The beach in Margate always had a calming sensation on Alfie.

He loved to just walk along the soft sand, letting the crisp wind prick at his skin as Cyril ran a few meters in-front of him. But now he loved it even more because he got to experience it with you.

His hand held yours as you both walked along the shoreline, the sounds of waves crashing and the occasional ship horn in the distance filling the atmosphere.

Every few steps you would stop in your steps, causing Alfie to stand idly as you reached down to pick up a new shell – excitedly showing it to him before placing it in your purse. He couldn’t complain, not when you looked so endearing while showing them off, but he still couldn’t help but question you.

“What are yer’ going to do with all those fuckin’ shells?”

Resting your head against his bicep, you giggled as Cyril ran past you before you responded to his question. “I’m going to make a necklace.”

He smiles and it’s soft and gentle – two feelings that people would never believe Alfie Solomons could express.

“What are yer’ going to where a shell necklace with, eh?” His nose crinkles as he laughs, pulling you impossibly closer to him.

“It’s not going to be for me,” you tell him confidently, eyes meeting his. “It’s for you.”

“Me?” He chortles, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “Do yer’ want people to think I’ve gone soft?”

He watches as a small frown creases your pretty features before you pull away from him – a bright smile replacing your glower as you take running off after Cyril.

And the truth is that Alfie had gone soft. Because later that night Alfie sits at the dining table going through deals and contracts, his eyes floating over to your figure on the other end – watching as you made the necklace that he gratefully accepts once you complete it.

He never takes it off after he see’s the way your eyes light up and feels how much love you hold for him as you pull him into a passionate kiss. Because in all honesty, Alfie Solomon’s was putty in your hands and would do anything you asked him to just to make you happy.

You were his little slice of Heaven and he would never get enough of you.

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