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#i felt a part of my soul die today
louebel · 5 months
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Hi! Can I request fluff Law x fem!reader where reader is feels sick but tries to ignore it/do things on her own (she’s not used to ask for help) but as a doctor law easily can tell by the signs and it happens during their sea journey on the polar tang? Hope I’m not asking too much love ya 🥺
Feel free to add angst or anything else to your writing ^•^
this is super old and the only request i'll ever do (atm) since i had a wip— ANON SORRY IT TOOK FOREVER <\3 reader is gn since i used the second person and no description.
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𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: trafalgar law × gn!reader 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐨/𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: 6,124 wc. a bit angsty, ends with fluff, emotional reader for the sickness, law is bad at emotions. this turned longer than expected, i hope it's decent xdd hit me up if there's any mistakes lol. supposed to be called windows of the soul,, divider by @ benkeibear my lord and saviour. 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: sickness overtook your body and worsened your already pitiful situation. law has been ignoring you and you have no idea why... but with how you felt, there was no way you could confront him at the moment.
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scrub, scrub, scrub... 
"... phew ..." 
scrub... poof! 
"Oh! — damnit — aargh..." 
Cleaning today has been a nightmare. Never been so tedious. 
Like, it was already uninteresting compared to all the other things you could do, but today it was ten times worse. You could bear it, seeking to make dusting shelves fun by humming some random tune to yourself. It was okay, something you had to do every once in a while. You could do it. 
If only you weren't sick. 
"Achoo! Achoo! — urgh... Achooo..! Damn." 
You began feeling like this some days ago, or so you told yourself as you delicately hunched down to the floor, hoping to grasp the yellow sponge soaked in foam and water without experiencing excruciating pain. However, your hopes soon shattered as your back screamed in agony and your legs trembled with soreness, almost giving up on you. 
Just the flu, you insisted, it would go away. A couple of sneezes mean nothing. You would feel better and all would go back to the ordinary. 
... Oh, how wrong you were! And how stupid for not getting a day off. 
You were capable, though! You counted on your immune system (it sounded heroic the first time you thought of that). One night is all you needed. 
Or not. 
"Ow, ow..." 
You should've told your captain. Sure, it would cost your courage, pride, and dignity, but at least you'd be cured. You'd rather die than tell him you got sick because of the one herb he instructed everybody to avoid. 
What's worse is that he's been rather distant, and he's unquestionably avoiding you. The way he shoots daggers — no, whole machetes in your direction every time you do anything, smart or not, is so clear even the crew can see it. And the worst part? You do not know why. 
It had been like this for a while now, and you detested this whole plight with passion. Everything was okay between the two of you, you were sure of it! What did you do that spurred such a reaction? From one so dear to you? 
Those sweet memories... 
From new findings you excitedly presented him, to revealing himself, his past and adventures to you after almost a year of sailing. You knew everything about him. He knew everything about you. 
So why? Why stop so abruptly? You didn't mind when he digressed about his newfound coins. When he murmured under his breath while he pored over medical books or mulled about a particular topic. When he stressed over labor and called for a brief break, where you or the crew would attend to him by delivering him a meal or helping when he wasn’t looking. He's so stubborn.
"Uurgh..." 
From captain, to Law, to captain again. Not to mention how he deftly stopped you from hanging out with him. You thought he needed space at first. Maybe he was tired and had to rest for the next few days. That’s alright. However, your thoughts deteriorated as the days passed. But well, right now it's better if he doesn't see you at all. Nor the crew‌ — oh, the damn crew. Those two.
The "two" being the pair of nitwits that constantly stand by law's side and grin at you. Seriously... 
You do not understand what Penguin and Shachi find so amusing about your situation with him. It's a tragedy, not a comedy. You love them both, truly, the minute you stepped into the polar tang they were the first ones to get you to open up and all, but goodness, you wish you could beat them for sitting there, cackling and clapping their hands while confiding some mysterious comments to each other when la — the captain, showed up in the area and walked past you with an unreadable gaze. He'd constantly salute you and the others with a bow of his head or more, depending on his mood. 
Now? If he saw one inch of your form? 
Sigh. His face always went red. 
Why can't those two just tell you? Even Ikkaku seemed to know something you didn't. She was more subtle about it, though. Jean Bart wasn't slick either. You could see him smile from a mile away. Hakugan and Clione? Shachi and Penguin 2.0, except they hid behind Jean Bart. The rest pitied you instead, sometimes patting your back — sometimes shaking their head almost in disbelief. Oh, and Bepo gave you suspicious smiles! Every time he tried to say something to you, those two animal hat-wearing goblins silenced him. Did they just want you to suffer? 
And if they did want that then their curses were working because even after grabbing the sponge (almost losing your temper as it slipped through your gloved palm twice) and straightening back to an erect pose, your head was still banging with fervor, muscles barely reacting. 
If only you could snuggle with the fluffy, warm mink right now. A bitter sigh rushed past your lips at the thought. 
Those two were just so mean. But Law was much meaner — the captain, the captain... Yes, the captain. That... That dummy. 
You groaned and shook your head while forcing your wobbly arms to scrub the table, exhausted mentally with this never-ending train of thoughts and these fanciful fists leaving invisible bruises all over your poor body. Not to point out those hands pinching your brain like dough... 
Just — you... Goodness, what was it he suddenly despised so much? The submarine felt like home. It was home, especially when he joined you. Now when he does, he — the aura he emanates is intimidating, yet everyone is either unaware of it or not affected by it. 
What made him so resentful? You can barely say anything when he strides into the place, too panicked to learn how he would perceive you or talk to you if you go on. It's like you're back on step one, isolated, too scared to be yourself with your family. Because of one man who's supposed to be the head of it. 
Being you felt like a sin when close to him, as if he preferred the private variant of who you are, and shunned your curious and spirited self. You could understand since he’s rather closed off and well, in a certain aspect you are too, but — did he not like you at all? Was it all an act to not offend you? He didn't seem to dislike your vivid reactions initially, or your foolish gestures when nearing a fresh island. You were often silent, smiling and listening to others converse, but when around your companions, you easily liked to open up since it was the only time you could do so. And they were more than just that. You entrusted all the members of the heart pirates. They meant everything to you. Even him, who stopped including you. 
Ugh... 
You wished it could all go back to normal. 
This disease enjoyed fumbling with your previously scrambled sentiments. Law did mention it brought a high fever and emotional susceptibility. You didn't consider it'd be this severe. 
"... Okay, I'm done." 
You certainly weren't, with your bed unmade and furniture still dusty; floor imploring for a good wash. However, with the croaky voice you had paired with your runny nose, you doubted you could do more. Even if you did, it'd be better not to. 
You peered down at the bucket full of water that probably smelled better than you at the moment, ignoring the small puddle beside it made by your poor handling sponges skills. Grimacing, you decided to leave it where it was in case carrying it back turns out to be a challenge. Hopefully, Ikkaku can provide you help later. 
Looking around, your droopy eyelids dimmed your perspective and further provoked you as both exasperation and exhaustion mixed and boiled in your gut, room so messy it mirrored your current state. You didn't know what was irritating you more: the light of the lamp or the disarray you resided in. 
Howling dejectedly, you turned and plodded to your bed, opening your arms, ready to throw yourself on the mattress. The more you sleep, the sooner you'll get better. Yeah, you're so brilliant. You closed your eyes and — 
knock knock. 
— reopened them a second after, remaining immobile for an extra few before glowering at your door, contemplating whether to go open it or linger to determine if they'd leave. Hmm. 
You waited. 
... knock knock. 
Fantastic.
You gritted your teeth, drawing a profound breath to settle your nerves, haywire thanks to the hellish illness. They didn’t deserve to withstand your rage, but who knows, maybe by seeing your shape, they'll show sympathy and tell you. That could work. 
Okay. 
You sluggishly trudged to the door, not bothering to adjust your unbuttoned pajamas and faking a cheerful facade. You hoped your face didn't look too awful, but you couldn't care less right now. 
Gripping and twisting the knob, you pushed it open, greeting them with the feeblest voice you've ever had, your sore nose making it unthinkable to inhale air. You rubbed the back of your head while doing so, eyelids closed to evade any light. 
"Yo, Penguin, Shachi, how can I—" the words automatically came out of your coarse and blazing throat, opening your eyes a bit to look at... them... 
Then you saw a tattoo. And more tattoos. No white, poofy boiler suits in sight. 
By barely seeing light before, you tried giving yourself mercy, but now you were only slaughtering yourself to make sure the person in front of you was, well. Him. 
Your jaw fell while your brows lifted in consternation, but shortly returned down thanks to your declining headache. Your pupils then scaled the mountain of mass before you and arrived at the peak. Another pair of eyes. 
Cool, gray eyes. The ones that just a week ago welcomed you with compassion and comfort. Now they drive you to wither away from this world. Even if you look up to them. (Hehe, get it? man, you're so silly, wow.) 
"—help … Captain. Uh, hello." and there goes your comfort zone. 
You tried swallowing down air but got pounds of mucus down your stomach instead, curved posture closing up even more in his presence, ashamed to be seen in such a weak state, instantly regretting not managing your appearance as his gaze scrutinized you from top to bottom, probably displeased with how you presented yourself.. 
You looked everywhere but at him. He only looked at you. 
Envy spurted from the plant’s toxins. How could he focus on one thing and have so much confidence to stare at someone without breaking eye contact at all? If you do the same for longer than two seconds, it feels like whoever looked at you has seen your entire personality, life, darkest secrets that you didn't really have, closest people to you — everything in poor words. The windows of your soul, perpetually agape.
How does he keep them closed? Why can't you seal them at all? Why?— 
"—so care to explain the meaning of this?" 
"Huh?" 
You stupidly stared at him, blinking and glancing at his shoulders, then back at him to break whatever spell he put on you, not able to concentrate at all. 
Barely could you see the annoyed expression on his face. You hoped he wasn't dealing with excessive stress. Making him feel worse was not your intention. 
"I said, care to explain what this is? You look... terrible—" you cringed at that, "—and you haven't come out of your room since this morning. Do you have any idea what time it is?" His scrutinizing tone made you want to crawl under your blankets and stay there forever, but his patronizing gaze didn't let you. 
You could merely fidget with your fingers and glance back at the floor to relieve your worries, which mixed with pain, fatigue, and dirtiness. You called for sleep so badly. 
"I'm—I'm sorry, Captain. I, uh, I didn't—" sniff, "—mean to skip my duties. Sorry." 
His brow creased in suspicion at your raspy voice and poor shape. 
"Is that so? Look at me while you say it." if his words weren't menacing enough, his tone was too. He knew you couldn't do that. Especially now. 
"Uh..." you unconvincingly whispered, continuing to play with your fists, until rubbing your nape once more, shuddering at how chilled your hands were compared to it. 
Your actions were, again, spotted by him, and if one more thing occurred, then he'll be correct. 
"Well? I'm waiting." 
"..." 
Sighing exasperated, you raised your head to look into his pupils once again.  
Unbeknownst to you, he already confirmed another of his impressions while taking a further view of your sullen visage. 
"I, uhm, overslept, Captain. That — that happens sometimes, yeah? Sorry about that. I'll—I'll..." stopping for a moment, you squinted your eyes and scrunched your nose while the man before you attentively fixated his stare on your frame and— 
"Achooo!" —covered half of your face whilst he recoiled back at the loud sneeze you let out, not expecting it at all. He blinked, then you sneezed again, and again. Streak of three. 
If your voice and glossy eyes already told everything to the doctor, the continuous sneezes only reinforced his thesis. 
You exhaled haplessly as he sternly said your name. 
"You're sick." his firm and coherent words could not be fooled. Your fate was sealed. 
"...Yeah." at this point, you didn't care. He was gonna scold you, nothing you could do about it. You could only hope he'll do that after you're cured because right now, you could barely stand still without shivering. You were sure if he wanted to do something he would have already, so he definitely will have a talk with you after you're healthy. 
"Why?" you've been proven wrong so many times this morning — afternoon. Evening? That you don't know what's gonna happen next. 
You stared at him numbly, almost done with everything. 
"What do you mean 'why'? I don't, I don't know. Probably our... Ugh, our last stop, isn't that obvious—" 
"Not that. Why didn't you say anything? To the others? To me?" 
If it wasn't for your head beating incessantly and the aching of your tendons ruining everything, you would think this was a dream. 
You kept gawking at him like a goldfish. His timbre wasn't as stern as it regularly was. It was a bit, just a tad bit lower. Like, barely. His eyes were softer, and if you met the man yesterday, you wouldn't be capable of identifying his mood. It's because you knew him for so long that you could distinguish it. 
"I..." you mumbled talks under your breath, awfully feeble to maintain the discussion, barring your eyes and hitching away when Law planted his freezing hand on your forehead. You fussed in protest, although it didn't last long. 
"You're cold... Off." 
"My hands are perfectly fine. You're burning," he interrupted you, stating the obvious. But you were far too deep to listen, fatigued. 
"Yeah... M'sorry." you nodded while deliberately looking down in shame, almost dropping to the ground out of fatigue. Everything seems hazy, the pressure in your skull fading, while the breaths you took were meager. 
Something skimmed over your shoulder and nape — ah, his fingertips — palm carefully tilting your head back up. Your mouth hung open, and you attempted to focus on your captain's facial features and the iconic hat to not fall asleep. 
"It's fine." But his gentle approach and mellow maneuvers set you in a soothing trance, where you couldn't do anything other than auscultate him. 
It’d be an exceptional moment to speak up about these last days, his odd actions. 
"It... It is? You, ah... You're not..." but you struggled to do so, chest too heavy to speak. He narrowed his eyes, striving to make out what you were saying, but it was all incomprehensible to him. 
"I'm not?" he urged you to proceed, getting closer — he felt warm. Wasn't he cold some seconds ago? Ah, he’s draping his coat over your shoulders, so, so cozy, — and holding you as if you were glass. Why was he holding you? It felt nice, undoubtedly nice. Oh, you were going to fall, you think. 
“Hey—hey. It’s okay. I got you. I got you.” 
Cradling you in his arms, Law cursed and crouched down, snaking an arm under your knees and sweeping you up, a short "there" slipping from his tongue, keeping you close to his breast. Naturally, you snuggled close to the source of heat, losing consciousness, unaware of your surroundings, his distress, and jogging to the infirmary. 
“Hey. Keep your eyes open. No, no, open—yes, yes, like that. Good job. A bit more, then you can go to sleep, alright?" 
While nodding lazily when he said your name again, you curled up for more warmth, and he mellowly followed your movement, hefting you up and pressing his lips upon your forehead, his frown deepening at how high the temperature was. He needed to administer medicine quickly. 
"Law …'m sorry if I smell." 
He scoffed. Thinking of such idiotic things was exactly like you, sputtering them out so bluntly. Rolling his eyes was natural at this point. 
"That's my last concern. We'll think of your scent and hygiene later. Don't speak. Shh." 
So stupid, so stupid. He should've confronted you ever since you left the island. He should've. It's been a recurring pattern these days. He couldn't see you because of his work but spoke with the others at breakfast, lunch, dinner... They all grew concerned about your distance. Uni shared that it began right after the departing... He knew something wasn't right with you, he could feel it.
Back in that inhabited location, he quickly took note of your drooping posture and fatigued breathing. He wanted to ask about it, but the following days, you acted normal, and Law thought you were queasy because of the heat.
Then he got busy checking on the crew's documents, medicine supply, the damn broken scope Hakugan sadly reported, bounties, news — and something else. He managed to give a check-up to everyone but you. It was mandatory after leaving an island.
With you evading him and him doing the same, this happened. Great. He could only hope it wasn't contagious.
... Wait.
He gritted his teeth in sour realization — Not once has he seen you in the halls or dining hall. No one mentioned you, either. Have you eaten anything at all? Oh, you imbecile.
He palmed your skin through your suit, easing your laments and whimpers, walking through the hallways of the Polar Tang and reaching the infirmary. Kicking the door open while lulling you a bit, shushing and fluttering his eyelids at your sick and quaking form. 
"There we go. Shh, I know, I know, it's awful." 
Uplifting the blankets, he quickly covered you and began searching for his equipment, rustling and metal clicks tangling with your whines. 
"U- uuh... W- where..?" 
"I'll be there in a second. I'm here." 
As he said that, he quickly came back to you, already stirring medicine in a cup. He had to give to you before you blacked out or fell asleep. Sliding a hand under your back, he carefully pushed you up, gaining a groan from you; you sounded so tired. Tipping your head forward, he brought the rim of the cup to your lips. You were delirious, could barely see or feel, but managed to follow his direct instruction to "open". The first glass was tasteless, fresh... water. 
The second tasted awful. 
"E—eugh..." 
"A couple more sips and we're done. Come on, you're doing good." 
Once you drank it all, with a small praise from Law, he gently laid you back down, about to check your vitals. He knew you were in no condition to do as he instructed, it would be all him. Idiot, idiot... 
Just looking at you made him guilty. He never saw you this awful. However, what truly pushed him were your next phrases. 
“Do you feel better now..?” 
Low and dry, they all were. He halted his movements, his hands in the bag, shifting his attention to you. 
Your question puzzled him. 
Feel better? Him? He was fine. Perhaps you thought the disease was contagious? No; you would've phrased that diversely. His forehead creased, slightly tilted to the side. 
"What?" 
“I … I missed you." 
And as clear drops cascaded down your cheeks, his limbs froze, a bittersweet ache striking his chest. 
"I—I thought I did something wrong … I’m sorry … Should've told you. 'M sorry ... really...” 
Shit. 
“No, no, don’t be. It’s alright, don't—don't speak. You did nothing. Shh...” 
And if you stayed conscious for some more seconds, you could've seen those severe pupils mitigate. The windows of his soul open up; the "stern" gaze he preserved for you withering in an instant at your vulnerability. 
All he wanted to do was clear that up. When, now..? 
“I—I’m the one that should’ve apologized, damn it…” 
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"Aargh..." 
Warm. 
"Mmh..." 
It was very warm. Pleasant. 
"Hn..." 
The boilersuit felt different. Heavier, and not … poofy. Hm. 
The pillow was so nice, though... 
You sought a better position under the comforting and amiable regime of your blanket, squinting your glistening eyes as if sand had struck them; eyebrows knitting in distaste and discomfort, choler cramming up your insides — but not for long, extremely achy and sleepy to lament. 
Shouldn't it be easier to relax now that you are tired? Shifting left and right left your muscles throbbing. The peace you could achieve in your dreams was all you begged for. But no, you just had to rise two more times in the span of minutes or hours. 
When you woke up the third time, someone surprised you. He was perching on a chair near the infirmary's bed, head, presumably about to doze off. An encyclopedia of vegetation and exotic environs sat in his palms and dotted jeans, the cover made of green-coloured leather, firm to the touch. 
He looked peaceful. 
"... Law?" 
Your lashes fluttered at the fierce shudder that rocked his frame, the textbook about to fall, his eyes snapping open and rapidly darting up to you. 
"Oh. You woke up. Good. Good evening." 
You were mad at him. You were mad at him. 
His lips were indubitably moving. Whatever he was saying, you were not listening. Something about being out for hours, but you were too out of it to pay attention. 
And looking down at your body, your eyeballs almost popped out of your sockets at the sight of... Not your boilersuit. 
"I'm in my pajamas?" 
"And — hm? Oh. I changed you." Pause. "With my devil fruit, of course. Obviously. You were way too hot in it." 
"..." 
"..." 
Pause number two. 
"I'm hot?" You bluntly said,
"Not in that way." And he quickly retorted, bashful. You immediately got gloomy.
"Oh..." You and Bepo were alike. He couldn’t help but sweatdrop.
"No, no, no, don't — you look fine. That's not what I meant." 
A hoarse chuckle ripped from your sensible larynx, a noise that he hadn't heard in a while. His back loosened at your jovial note, the pressure applied on the envelope of the manual lessening. 
There was a superb illustration of the flora you accidentally whiffed. 
"You inhaled it, didn't you?" 
... Silence followed. Then a sigh.
"A simple allergy with a sore throat and emotional instability in the first phase caused by the pollen, weakened muscles and headache in the second, and heightened senses, nausea, and worsening of the body in the last one. You felt them all." 
Quick and precise, each symptom he mentioned appeared throughout the weeks you boarded on the Polar Tang. He hit the mark. Glancing at him from the corner of your eyes, you nodded sheepishly, feeling hot in your cheeks. 
"Y—Yeah." 
"I thought I mentioned dodging those peculiar red flowers. I don't expect you to recall the name, but to avoid it. Thankfully, you only inhaled its pollen, or else you would've been in this bed the moment we departed." 
"O—oh... That bad?" 
"No, not really. The symptoms would've developed quicker, but nothing dangerous. Perhaps you would have slept over two days, as all cases do when encountering this allergy," He narrows his eyes at you, shutting the book and crossing his long legs, his foot jouncing. "Not at all fatal, only worrying when the patient in question mentions nothing about the symptoms and overworks themselves.” 
“Hey—” 
“You're fine." 
A small huff left your lips, nodding lazily. Nothing was uttered after from both sides. Occasional groans from yours. Only then he spoke. 
"Why didn't you tell me?" 
"..." The answer was simple. He immediately found the illness yet couldn't pinpoint the cause of this? It was almost ironic. Your quietude wasn't taken well. 
"Well?" 
"... You ignored me. You made it clear." 
And he was faking ignorance. That glance, his attitude. You knew him too well, but had no energy to call him out. 
"I—I didn't." 
"Don't play coy, Law. Did I do something? Even the others know. Penguin and Shachi told me. I—" 
You paused when he raised his hand, glancing at it in confusion, then back at him, twice or more. He sighed and dropped it back on his thigh again, using his other one to rub his temple in distress. 
"You did nothing. I don't know what... Shachi and Penguin said," You tilted your head at his peculiar manner of quoting them. "But I've got nothing against you." 
He stopped rubbing and lifted his head to check on you again and you were unsure of what to say. His brows wrinkled the tender skin of his forehead, severity, and minor unease painting every fiber of his appearance. 
You just... didn't know. 
"Really? Then why those weird stares? Why leave the room the moment I come in? I mean." you flailed your hands around, looking everywhere as if you could find an explanation. "You never behaved this way, Law, not with anyone. I... It was fine before, right? Let me ask again, did I do something wrong?" 
"Of course not!" 
At his hasty exclamation, you blinked, uncertain why he became as rigid as stone. Palms back on the blanket, you awaited an elaboration of his thoughts, observing his adumbral face to detect any key to figure out what caused him to alter his ways with you. However, his hat, which you've always appreciated for its fluffiness, turned out to be an issue. Those eyes you've grown so fond of refused to meet yours. 
You just couldn't get it. The surrounding air grew an intoxicating no romance book would mention, one that did the contrary of setting your heart aflame, that poor muscle of yours. 
If he explained, it would've been easier. 
"Okay, 'of course not' ... Sure—" 
"We are not having this conversation. You need rest." 
He briskly cut you off, and your heart felt constricted. The words felt bitter upon both of your tongues, so bitter and revolting, they made his jaw clench and your eyes water. You weren't having it. Absolutely not. 
"I feel better now, thank you, and I say we're having this right here." You pushed, ignoring how he clenched his tattooed fist.
"No—" 
"Yes, Law! I don't know what I did, but if it bothers you, shouldn’t you tell me? There are things we can all miss." 
The pang in your brain was still active, and you had no patience nor strength to argue. Either he spoke up or you'd go straight to sleep. 
"I... You did nothing that bothers me." 
His speech was almost a whisper, a low rumble, and were you in your regular state, you'd feel sad to see him like this. Law had no trouble speaking up— perhaps with apologies, or admitting to be wrong when in the midst of a conversation. Maybe something genuinely bothered him. But he'd tell you, wouldn't he? He had to.
But you weren't the only one who had to consider the consequences. He also had to do his part. 
"... And?" you encouraged him, to gain something, something that would lead you both to that damned thing you were both chasing, that ounce of understanding. 
“And—and what?" alas, it served another wave of blistering dissatisfaction down upon the membranes of your boiling stomach. 
He couldn't be serious. 
"... Whatever. I'm going to sleep." 
"What?" 
You detested how you were feeling, a volcano of passions, the pounding in your skull, and the heat, and the ludicrous, nagging insecurity, all these wretched, gristly sensations shoved in your mouth and scraping your gullet, such a relucting and squalid dish, contaminating your palate and inflaming the gums of your teeth. 
But all Law could see was how your eyes moistened and reddened, the crinkles at the corners of your mouth, the contracted tissues above your nose. 
You couldn't feel how his heart plummeted, either. Again, he caused you to cry. 
"Hey... I—" 
"No, Law, no! I said leave! You ignored me for almost two weeks and now—now you're just..!" 
Perhaps you were being a bit too "dramatic" for something you could solve with a modest exchange, something that, compared to all the obstacles you and Law went through, was a sheer grain of dust in your shoes. Yet you erupted for the frustration, the plant's effects and that nameless thing you'll bring in your grave, for if he knew, he'd probably pity you. 
Maybe, just maybe, he should've kept ignoring you. If solely to dim that warmth. The glow in your eyes that only sparked with him. 
"I don't mind if you need time. I don't mind if you're busy or whatever, that's obviously fine! But can't you tell me? Is it that hard? Instead of treating me like a stranger? Just—just, just leave..." 
Your snotty voice seemed ridiculous, resounding through the infirmary alongside your sobs and sniffles. Vision tarnished by your tears, staring at the ceiling with resignation. It alarmed Law, whose emotions were already scattered; unnerved, anxious. 
He couldn't take seeing you like this. He couldn't. 
"That’s not it! I... I just — I..!" His broken explanations fell as your cries didn't stop; spasms traveling through your frazzled nerves. He swore under his breath, getting up and coming to you, standing close but so, so distant. His fingers jerked, impatient to wipe your tears, to calm you down, to assure you everything was alright, and this was all on him. 
"What..?" you meekly whimpered, gazing at him as he appeared in your sight. 
"I, I..!" if only he could express himself. You'd figure out. If only he could, without buckling and tearing apart at the weight of his own feelings. 
"... You what, Law?" 
It was tough to see with all those tears coating your scleras, but... His lips quivered. His jaw tensed. 
His hands craved yours. 
"I like—I like you!" 
... You wondered if illusions were part of the symptoms. Your eyelids were all but relaxed. Popeyed. 
"There. I said it. I mean it. Seriously. I—I think I love you." 
You could feel his frantic grip, slightly pulling the blankets in his direction, tense as him. You've never seen Law so … jittery with you. Perhaps when he slowly spoke of his past, or when his plan failed. 
"I—I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I... I was confused. I don't know. Maybe I shouldn't... No, okay. I, I love you, but you don't have to reciprocate, really. ‌I just wanted to clarify that I wasn't—" 
This was different, however. Not the same vulnerability, nor agitation. That teetering edge coating his sayings, not at all close to those instances. 
"... Law." 
"—ignoring you, I mean, I was, but I just couldn't face you, you know? I didn't know how to act—" 
That glow, those feelings. The twinkle in his eyes Bepo mentioned when you spoke of something that fascinated you, that rare grin on his lips, and that sweetness, the swelling in his chest, and the red, and the breath of fresh air, and the intoxicating romance books loved to talk about... 
Those tints blooming in his cheeks. The faint relaxation of his defined brows. How he covered his pretty, vulnerable self. 
He's no different from you. Oh, oho ho, no, he wasn’t. Only now did you realize. 
"Law." 
"—but I missed you so much, I missed your presence, being with you, I—" 
Your heartbeats matched. 
"Law!" 
You understand now. The definitive yell induced him to quit his blabbering, and eventually, he found your gaze. Those windows were not locked at all. Not marginally, not halfway. They were fully open. You could see him. 
"It's... the same." 
It was all you could utter. His jaw loosened, and you could recognize his wide, stormy irises. 
"Huh? Wh — what?" 
"I feel the same way, Law. I—I love you too." 
Yours were open, too. They always were- yet he never acknowledged what dwelled inside. Two fools you both were. 
"... Oh..." and a breathless whisper was all he could offer. 
The silence dissipated. A delightful warmth occupied your rib cage. The pressure was gone. 
All is back to normal. 
"If... If you weren't sick. I'd kiss you." He mumbled, and his lips looked more luscious than ever. He shouldn't have said that. Now it was even harder. 
"P—pfft... Of course, of course. Can you come closer, at least?" you pouted, giving him the best puppy eyes you could muster. “Pretty please?”
"... Fine. It's — not contagious, anyway," he huffed, his cheeks a light pink, and he sat on the margin of the infirmary's bed, hustling just a tad bit closer... 
Closer... 
"Closer?" 
"Alright." 
His ears grew pink at your giggles. Your fingers graced each other, "DEATH" entwined with you. His hands were lukewarm. Long, slim, calloused in some places, but also tender to the contact. His metacarpals were partially discernible, defining the shadows. He took care of his nails, ensuring they were cut short, although they appeared slightly, just somewhat lengthier than usual. Not considerably, however; they were still short. 
How you missed holding it. 
"Sorry, by the way. About everything." Squeezing his hand, you attempted to show him what it meant to you. He squeezed it back, brushing the top of your hand with his thumb, a pensive and solemn look on his face. 
"No- I should apologize for not saying anything sooner. I neglected and avoided you. I … I don’t know what to do. You know I’m not the type for relationships.” 
You hummed in acknowledgement, but weren't as worried as Law. You'll wait. Nothing would change. 
“Mmm. I can wait for you, Law.” Saying it seemed to take him off guard, as if he hadn't thought about it. Or, rather, didn't expect you to propose it. In his head, it seemed silly because it's him. If you were to ask in his place, he'd also wait. 
He felt lighter. 
“… Truly?” 
“Yeah. We can figure it out together. Like we always did. I’ve loved you for years." He inhaled deeply, your words buttery and sweet. "I’m fine with waiting longer.” 
Thinking you wouldn't accept, if he asked, was stupid of him too. Of course you would. Of course. With another squeeze, he nodded, and turned his head away from you a bit. 
His eyes glistened. 
“I’d like that. Thank you.” 
You smiled, too, saying nothing in return. 
He can take all the time he needs. 
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After some days, everything went back to the typical routine. The first thing you did was knock Shachi and Penguin's heads, (supported by Ikkaku) and since Hakugan and Clione were on duty, you couldn't do the same for them. 
You puffed your cheeks and enjoyed chewing the well-earned treat you snagged from the kitchen, reorganizing boxes since this morning. 
"Tired?" 
Peeking at the door, a smile adorned your mouth at the sight of your captain leaning on it. 
"Mm, there were a lot of them." 
"You could've asked for help. You know I don't want any of you to strain yourselves with tasks." 
"I had it. Don't worry. Although..." another bite. "I miss it." 
"Hm?" he crooned, tipping his head forward. "Miss what?" 
You gazed into his eyes, "Miss getting pampered by you when I was sick." lovingly observing how they enlarged a bit before returning to the stoic stare he always wore, swaying his head to dismiss your remarks. The chambré tint on his cheeks was as clear as day, like his light smile. Not that you'd tell him, he'd immediately disregard it. 
"... Meet me at my office once you're done." 
As he turned his back to you, his boots making clicky rumors with each step, your smirk amplified... After all, who could wait to get coddled by none other than their favorite captain?
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gojoidyll · 27 days
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Infinity
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Yandere ! Gojo Satoru x Female ! Reader
Part 11 | new life, new beginning, new death
Summary | And I'd choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I'd find you and I'd choose you.
Infinity Masterlist
For centuries, a battle between Gojo and Sukuna raged on all because of one soul, one girl, one person who kept coming back.
In some lives, Sukuna would have her sitting prettily on his lap, one of his four hands running through her hair as the two would enjoy the peaceful silence that nature had to offer. Not a single soul or cursed spirit bothering them.
However, in most lives, y/n would be living again and again with Gojo. Their hands always intertwining as they would meet each other, become friends, die a tragic death, and then be reborn again, again, and again.
Though, the silent battle for her that both Gojo and Sukuna were holding came to a standstill when Sukuna was sealed away and turned into a cursed object. His power being split between his twenty fingers. When this happened Gojo couldn’t have been happier. Finally, Sukuna would not interfere. At least, that was the plan as he and y/n died again, and their souls were reborn in present time.
GOJO SATORU yawned loudly as he fell back into his chair, his eyes staring up at the ceiling as a bored expression crossed his features. His blindfold lying uselessly across his desk.
This was the first life he ever lived in such a modern world. This was the first life he lived where he felt so much power course through him. This was the first life he lived at the age of 28 that he has yet to meet y/n.
Though, he blames himself for that. Mainly because he didn’t receive his past memories until late in his teens right after he got stabbed by Toji Fushiguro.
But even after I got my past memories back, I still haven’t met y/n. Where could she be? Is it possible that she hasn’t been born yet?
He crinkled his nose at that. That would be a pain if that’s the case.
But what was also a pain was Itadori Yuji. One of the new first years and someone who is now the vessel for Ryomen Sukuna. The King of Curses hasn’t mentioned anything about y/n yet, but Gojo knew that the conversation was bound to happen sooner or later. A shame that Itadori would be in the crossfire.
No matter, as long as Itadori can keep a hold on the King of Curses, then when Gojo finally finds y/n, Sukuna shouldn’t be a problem at all.
A knock on the door was quick to break him out of his thoughts. His eyes narrowed drastically when he felt Yaga’s presence behind the door along with someone else.
“What now,” he muttered.
Grabbing his blindfold, he was quick to put it on while also plastering a goofy smile on his face. (He thought feigning happiness would be easier than being grumpy despite him still being unhappy about not knowing where y/n is.)
“What’s up principal? It’s not everyday you come to meet me in my office.”
“I knew you wouldn’t bother coming to the meeting today, I brought them here.”
“Meeting? Bringing someone?”
Principal Yaga sighed, “and of course you weren’t listening… Gojo. I clearly said that you would be in charge of showing the new teacher around. She’s new and graduated a few years ago from a different school. What made her choose to come here as a teacher, I don’t know. But I hope you will at least show her around before letting her loose.”
Gojo waved his hand dismissively, “sure, sure. I’ll show her around.”
Principal Yaga turned slightly to the person standing a little away, “This is Gojo Satoru, he’ll be showing you around. Hopefully, though, you won’t have to deal with him much after today.”
“Rude,” Gojo said with a smile.
“Thank you Principal Yaga.”
The moment he heard her voice, an electric jolt went right through Gojo’s spine causing him to stand up a little straight, the smile on his lips falling as his mouth opened slightly.
No way.
“Hello, Gojo. My name is L/n Y/n. I hope we can be great friends!”
Thank you so much for coming to me yourself.
“It’s nice to meet you miss L/n, I hope we can be great friends too.”
He held out his hand to her, to which she gladly took with a smile on her face.
Over the many lives he lived, Gojo knew that rushing things would lead to Y/n dying, hating him, or something a bit more sinister happening. Slow and steady was always the way to go. Besides, as long as he was here, then he was sure that everything was going to work out this time.
He was the strongest now, after all.
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xxakoip · 2 months
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May life treat you better next time.
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TW!: Death, swearing, mention of illness.
Grim Reaper!Wriothesley x Terminallyill!GN!Reader
Agh wowooww this man makes me feel things
The Grim Reaper, the embodiment of death itself. If someone told you a year ago that your heart would beat faster for such monster, you would probably call them crazy and run away. Unfortunately for you, they would be 100% right.
Nothing or anyone could’ve prepared you for the storm that Wriothesley was. Seeing a dark figure on the corner of your hospital room was worrying by itself, but befriend that figure? Yeah, definitely worse.
It wasn’t your fault; you were always alone and the place was almost suffocating you. The man, if he can even be called that, was a pleasant change in your routine. He was different in a way, you never saw him angry but also never completely happy, like a perfect balance between the two.
Saying that you fell for the dark-haired male was an understatement, you were absolutely head over hells for him. Wriothesley knew that, he was a master manipulator and taking notes of people’s emotions was as easy as breathing for him.
He was aware of it, but strangely enough never dared to use them against you. That was until that fatidic day.
“Seriously who does she thinks she is? Ugh that’s why I hate socializing with the other patients.”
You were complaining about some patient that gave you a ‘bitch look’. The reaper gave you a look before huffing and looking away with a small smile.
“Maybe that’s her normal face, we’ll never know.”
Your expression made his smile grow, you always hated when he gave you these enigmatic answers. Secretively, you always found it a part of his ‘charm’, he knows that of course.
“You know what? Since I was young, I always thought the grim reaper would be this scary and ugly creature. You are… quite different from what I imagined.”
A small smirk crawled its way into his face before he shook his head. Cold and cloudy blue eyes stared back into yours. If he noticed the way you looked more tired today, he chose not to comment.
“Are you implying that I’m beautiful in your eyes? Ah, I always knew you had a thing for me.”
Wriothesley enjoyed making you flustered, it was a nice distraction from your upcoming destiny. Outside, some nurse outside talks worriedly with a doctor, they had noticed the terminal lucidity you had since this morning.
Ah, that was the bad feeling he had the whole day.
“Say, why don’t you rest a bit? You know this whole burst of emotion will be bad for you.”
“The grim reaper telling me to take care of my health? You’re doing the opposite of your job, Wriothesley.”
He rolled his eyes and took a few steps, standing next to your bed. Several machines surround you, keeping you alive, prolonging your suffering. This ends today.
“Stop with that look, you look scary like that.”
Your words bought him back from his thoughts. This is wrong, where’s your family? To be left alone on the day you die... your life was surely miserable, wasn’t it? But he knew nobody would show up, he never saw anyone enter your room besides the nurses and doctors, not a single fucking person.
“Tsk.”
His lips quivered and for the first time in his eons of living, he felt hopeless. Why did you of all people had to be born with such illness? You deserved to marry and grow old surrounded by love and care. A small part of him wanted to be the one besides you on that life.
But that will never be possible, for he’s a monster who only brings darkness and destruction to every person and place.
“Do me a favor alright? Just close your eyes and sleep.”
I don’t want to see your soul leaving your body nor your eyes becoming dull.
“Okay, okay.”
Even though you shouldn’t.
You closed your eyes but the smile continued on your lips.
“You know… I really like you, Wriothesley, could almost say I love you.”
Don’t say that, don’t use these words to someone like me.
“I know, I know you do.”
Even though you shouldn't.
“Rest easy, my dear. May life treat you better next time.”
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day-drawn-blog · 5 months
Text
Part VII: I went away cause I missed you or maybe You are not mine and am I truly yours? - The Power
Pairing: Astarion x Reader -- This is set in Act I
Tags: angst, fluff, sadness, angst, fluff, then maybe eventually smut because I do love that
Part I. Crowned light moon of mine - I found you too soon
Part II : Lace your heart with mine Let your sleeping soul take flight
Part III : maybe tonight I'll rest in peace
Part IV : There is more to do and I still want to live
Part V : our futures bound, our bodies known
Part VI: These ain't my sins. I broke my chains.
Part VIII: Your blood like wine, invites me in.
Part IX: I'll welcome my sentence and give you my penance
Part X : I can't go yet...don't let me die
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You all stayed at camp as two of your party members recovered their physical and psychic damage. Not much happened. The second night, Astarion was able to step out, and sit next to the campfire with everyone. Everyone had spent time on their own way - resting. Wyll seemed to have refined a dance. He wanted to share with everyone, and asked for a partner, just as you walked in with a bunch of firewood. Everyone looked at you and Wyll found his volunteer. You indulged him.
It turned out more fun than you had thought.
You enjoyed dancing in a previous life. A life which you cannot remember much of, anymore. Everyone was being merry. Astarion seemed to be recovering because he made some snarky comment at Wyll's dancing skills. Said he always dreamt of marrying a handsome prince charming like Wyll as a kid - making everyone burst out in laughter. Wyll offered to dance with him in return and Astarion turned him down saying he was afraid of being stepped on. After which a funny banter followed.
All was not as bad as it could be. 
"You seem to be all better, Astarion. Good to see, soldier. It's all thanks to Halsin's medicine that our dear captain so diligently put on you all night" Karlach beamed, gesturing to you. You felt like a deer in the spotlight. "Ah no no no, I hardly -- " "Of course you did, you followed my instructions perfectly" chimed in Halsin, unhelpfully. 
You looked down to the ground blushing. You didn't want to look at Astarion. At this point you may as well hold a sign saying you love him, you thought. "Thank you. Captain." Astarion returned, in a solemn and deep voice. "I owe you my life". "Again." You were sure he said that last word, or did he. It was said very softly, almost to himself.
Everyone was able to march forwards again.
In the underdark the next day, Shadowheart and Karlach were chatting. You wondered if Shadowheart and Astarion had found their way to each other again. You hoped they did. You did not want to come in between real love. "You know, I have a spent time in a crypt. But the underdark, still unsettles me". What? 
Astarion had caught up with you. 
He was trying to make conversation! You were surprised. "Are you still feeling unwell? Maybe you thought I was someone else?". You blurted out unwittingly. Half joking, but also, not. "Why would you say that? I was perfectly aware who I was walking upto to have an idle chatter with. If you are not interested... however" He feigned being hurt. "You never talk to me, Astarion. This feels very, not normal. Why now?". You were genuinely curious. 
"Do I not?" He seemed hurt. 
"We haven't spoken a word except last night in the past week". You reminded him, pettily. " I had, a few things to sort through, in my head." He said, a bit distant. "But I feel much better today. Both in body and in mind". "That is very good to hear. We were all worried that night. You were close to falling in the water". 
You two then talked a fair bit. 
About the incident, about his time as a magistrate in Baldurs gate. A few things about Cazador. You felt there was more to the Cazador story than he let on. But that would have to wait. You were in combat again. 
You started with your back to his back. 
You had never fought this way before. You felt safer. You cancelled someone trying to cast a spell on the party. Then at one point, while you were momentarily distracted, you saw two hands on either side of you, cast 'ignis' from behind you, as hot flames burst forth. It was so warm for a moment. Not just from the spell but his breathy voice right behind you as he took down your enemy for you. 
His face was so close to you. 
"Look out!" You were so distracted by his face, you didn't see the arrows coming. Astarion turned you around while shielding you with his back that took the arrows. His armor was enough to save him but that was dangerous. "What are you doing?!," You demanded, slightly frowning since that was reckless. "Saving your distracted self. You're welcome" he snarked back. 
And whose fault is that, again. You sighed.
Fighting side by side had it's charms. It gave him advantage on his sneak attacks while you took out any enemies in range. But at one point, towards the end of the battle, you were both near a ledge, when someone set off an explosive and you both fell off. Down into the abyss. You cast feather fall to save your lives and braced for impact. 
It didn't hurt as much but you both fell in a pool of rubble dirt and dust that clouded everything. Coughing, you couldn't see in the smoke cloud and dust. The area looked precarious. As if a false step or loud sound would make you go crashing further. Astarion was a few feet away. Coughing.
He crawled towards you. "Are you okay"? 
A wooden beam seemed to fall towards you as you looked up. Your mind went blank. You Eldritch blasted it and realized it splattered into a hundred splinters that were now raining down on you. In an instant, Astarion was on you. Fully armored. And he shielded you from the worst of them. You on your back, him on all fours, protecting you.
"What are you doing?" 
You were genuinely angry. Why does he keep putting himself in danger for you! Those splinters were not enough to hurt you badly, and you did not need saving from something so trivial. What has gotten into him today. Being the Hero. Didn't he find the idea repulsive? You couldn't understand this man. He definitely disapproved of a lot of your more benevolent choices in the past. And now look at who is being the Hero.
Hypocrite.
You expected him to say he was saving you, and you had your reply ready in your head. That you would have survived just fine. You just needed to remember the right spell. 
"I'm being ... grateful". 
Is what he said. What? You looked into his eyes. Once again, his face, was very close to yours. "You are a handful. You know that"? He quipped. You were offended. "Excuse me - I cast feath -- " His lips were on yours. He sucked and pulled on your lower lip before parting. 
"I -- wa --- " 
"Shut up" and he kissed you again. Several times. Quick, rash and hurried. His tongue found yours. You had no time to breathe. Your mind was going blank again. Why does this man do this to you every time. You put your arms around him without thinking when a voice rang out. "You guys ok down there? " Karlach's voice ran out from above. 
He tore away instantly.
"Yes! " He promptly got away and waved "we are here!!" "I saved her but now we need help getting out". "You didn't save ---" " Shut up or I will kiss you again". It wasn't the warning that shut you up. But the shock at what was happening... You just stared at him wide eyed. "If you don't believe me, why don't you test me" he smirked. He helped you up. The party had thrown a rope ladder down to you two. 
After you. He said.
You held the rope. No, after you. "I'm afraid, my love, that can't be helped" he stood behind you and tugged at the rope to check its strength, he was so close again. "I need to keep my eyes on you darling. " He smirked again as he leaned in and kissed you again. This one was longer and more tender. "For the journey back up, my dear. Who knows when I can tear you away again".
His hand was on your stomach. Tantalizingly close to your breasts. "I would like to savor you more ....later" He said in a very low voice, next to your ears, almost in a whisper. Your head tilted back, he planted one more kiss on your lips and let you go. You gripped the rope hard. Your heard pounding from the kisses he lavished on you. 
You tried to focus on the task at hand, and made your way up, slowly. Looking back down every now and again as he smiled up at you.
You resolved to end this turmoil soon.
Back up reunited, you decided to stay with the others the rest of the day. That didn't prevent him from catching your eye and flashing his smile at you every chance he got. You turned away, cheeks flushed and confused, every time.
Back at camp that night, you tore away from everyone, to sort your thoughts through before confronting him. You found a secluded pool, so you stripped to your inners and went in the cool water. You were still uncomfortable being completely naked in the wilderness. Made you feel, vulnerable. Besides - who knew if someone was lurking. These woods were filled with thieves, bandits...vampires.
"There you are, darling. "
Shocked, you turned to see him. "How did you -". He smirked. "Why, I can smell your sweet blood miles away. Did you forget, I'm a... vampire" he winked. You were infuriated - not a moment's peace with this man around. You should have washed your wounds faster. Years of being a predator has given him perfect stalking skills it seemed. Fine. Might as well get it done with. You braced yourself.
Astarion stripped down and got into the water.
Part VIII : Your blood like wine, invites me in.
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none-of-your-bullshit · 2 months
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Say that You Love Me
15.1 when you both met the ex (sort of) a.k.a comic-con part 1
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader
Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, canon typical violence, insecurities, death, inaccuracies for how the U.S. government works, Lila Archer is here, mentions of white supremacy
Series Masterlist
“It’s a miracle that Hotch let the two of us off for the whole weekend.” Spencer pointed out as you checked yourselves in at San Diego’s Marriott.
You shrugged and took a lick from the ring pop on your finger. “I may or may not promise free childcare for a weekend so he could get away with Beth during her birthday.” 
“Are you sure?” He asked, chewing on his lips. “For this? It isn’t a big deal for me.”
“Spencer,” you scolded. “Turning 30 is a big deal! Besides, I also want to go to Comic-Con this year. It’ll be my first!”
“This is my first too,” he admitted, turning to you. “But do you think it’s a little childish for me to go to Comic Con to celebrate my 30th birthday?”
“Do you think I’d pay for your tickets, hotel, and flight if I think it’s childish?” You retorted. You did understand where he was coming from, though, so you added, “Who cares, Spence? You can be fifty and still go to Comic Con to celebrate. If you love something, why stand in your own way to have it? Joy does not have an age limit, old man.”
Spencer couldn’t help but smile at that. With his job, he could die the next time he got off a plane. You were right. “I guess so.”
His birthday was not until October, but you had come up to him last month to surprise him with a very early birthday present. (You just wanted someone to go with, to be honest. It didn’t hurt that it was his 30th birthday). When he asked for a four-day PTO from Hotch, his Unit Chief just laughed at him before agreeing right in front of his eyes. 
He had never seen Hotch laugh like that. It was jarring. 
His surprise was quickly replaced with nervousness, however, for spending a four-day weekend in San Diego with you. Just you, no one else. 
When the two of you were approaching the receptionist's desk, he felt you pushing in closer to him. Instinctively, Spencer wrapped his arm around your waist, and he saw the wink you sent him from under your almost see-through pink sunglasses. 
“Oh, darling, I need to invite Gina Wallace—” you started, but immediately switched up when the receptionist caught your eyes. Spencer was confused, why would you bring up Gina Wallace of all people?
“Good afternoon, how may I help you today?” The girl behind the front desk said. Naomi, her nametag said.  
“Hello —Naomi, room under Reid, please!” You said with a giggle. “You have to forgive me for happiness today, darlin’. My boyfriend —well now, fiance, just proposed to me at the pier! With a ring pop! I’m still overjoyed, just like when we were eight!”
Oh. Oh! Spencer cleared his throat, pressing a kiss to your head in affection. “When you know, you know, right?”
Naomi, bless her soul, smiled gleefully. “Congratulations to the happy couple! I would love to offer a room upgrade to let you guys celebrate, but it seems like you have booked our best room available right now.”
Your smile, somehow, got bigger. “That’s okay, darling. With the conference, I understand!” You looked up to Spencer. “My love is all I need this weekend!”
Spencer wanted to curse you. He wanted to curse you with a spell as payback for roping him into this charade without telling him first. He wanted to curse you for not giving him time to prepare his poor, beating heart. But he couldn’t. Because he didn’t believe in that kind of magic. And he didn’t know any spells. 
So he smiled and leaned down to give you a small peck on the corner of your mouth instead. 
He reveled in the way your body stiffened in his arms. 
“That is so sweet,” Naomi said. “You are all good to go, here is your room key and please do not hesitate to call us if you ever need anything!”
“Thank you, Naomi,” Spencer said, lips grinning like a Chesire cat. His eyes didn’t leave yours as he said, “Would you please send up wedding package options? We would love to get a head start and I love the beach wedding idea.”
He took the red on your face as a win. The way your mouth parted in shock, how your eyes widened behind your pink sunglasses, and the way your lips slowly pulled into a satisfied smirk sent him haywire. Everything felt warm and hot and he wanted to jump into the ocean to make sure this was not a dream. 
Somehow, you pulled yourself together. “Thank you, Naomi!”
Sure enough, a big book of wedding package options was delivered to your room along with a bottle of champagne, a selection of pastries, and a bucket of roses. You went straight for the macarons. 
“You could’ve just told me before, you know,” Spencer said, reaching out for a small chocolate cake. “You think I would’ve proposed to you with a ring pop, really, Daisy?”
You raised your ring pop up to the windows, watching it glint from the sunlight, before taking it off and throwing it on an empty plate. “And where’s the fun in that?”
Spencer rolled his eyes and reached for the champagne bottle, fully intended just to pour some out for you. Then, he noticed that it was a non-alcoholic one. “Did they run out of alcoholic ones?”
“No, I made a note in the booking that we don’t drink.” You took the bottle from his hands and poured it into the two flutes. You looked up at him with those eyes of yours, sparking more than that ring pop, sparkling more than those bubbles, and you expected him to just let it slide off? Smile and nod and not kiss you? 
With shaky hands, Spencer took his flute from your hand. “Thanks,”
Your glossed-up lips pulled into a smile as you clinked your flute with his. And on that Friday night, in a room he couldn’t afford, overlooking the Pacific Ocean, you said, “Happy early fucking birthday, Spencer Reid.”
**
Spencer didn’t travel outside of work purposes and visiting his mother. He barely had any social life to begin with and the idea of vacationing sent shivers down his spine. The anxiety of being unreachable (what if there was a case?) (what if there was a problem with his mom?) usually overwhelmed him. This time, though, he had you. He knew you’d be able to get them out of trouble (that you usually cause, but whatever) if needed. He knew he could rely on you. 
Besides, what could go wrong in three days?
Turned out, a lot. A lot could go wrong. 
You had left for the bathroom, and Spencer was squirming in his Luke Skywalker get-up, trying to adjust the lightsaber you bought him that morning with two shopping bags worth of merch after a whole day of walking around. Between the signed posters and funkos, he was ready to call it a day.
“Spencer?” A familiar voice called to him. “Spencer Reid?”
Shit. he knew who that voice belonged to. That voice used to haunt him back in the day whenever he would turn on the TV. 
“Hi,” Spencer said, coming face to face with the redhead actress. “Lila, hi.”
Lila Archer beamed up at him, going in for a hug, but he stepped out of the way. He tried not to wince at the sight of her face. It was familiar. Too familiar, even though her face was more mature, structured, and lacked the anxiousness she had when he first met her.
He felt guilty enough for not returning her texts after she ghosted him for two months.
“I didn't know you like this kind of stuff,” she said. “Or are you just here to see me?”
Lila was teasing him, he knew. And he felt himself reverting to the insecure and awkward virgin boy back when he met her. He had been so easy.
Before he could stammer up a response, Spencer heard your voice.
“Spence, you would not believe who I ran into–” 
“Hey, sweetheart,” Spencer said quickly. “Is it Gina Wallace? I thought I saw her coming in earlier.”
Mischief sparkled in your eyes, your lips pulled into a smile. “Yeah, can you believe it? Out of all the places!”
Spencer wanted to sigh in relief. He handed you your fingerless gloves to complete your Black Widow look. Then, Lila cleared her throat. 
He forgot she was there for a second. 
“Oh yeah, Y/N, this is Lila,” Spencer said. “Lila, this is Y/N.”
Lila turned her head to the woman beside him, her smile unwavering. “Y/N, do you also work with Spencer?”
You returned Lila’s smile, though, Spencer recognized the stone in your eyes. “I do. And I’m a huge fan of yours!”
“Thank you, great, that’s‒that’s good,” Lila said, smiling even bigger now. Spencer felt a jab on his elbow, catching his attention. You subtly moved your head towards Lila, a warning in your eyes. 
It was then Spencer realized that he had been worrying about himself that he missed Lila’s behavior entirely. She was nervous, on edge, and most importantly, all too relieved to see someone she ghosted (and ghosted her) all those years ago. 
“I know you’re probably busy but, can we talk?” 
Lila led the way to her dressing room. You noticed the two bodyguards dressed in cosplay in front of her and another one behind you. Event security escorted you through the maze of back corridors so you wouldn’t have to deal with fans trying to get Lila’s attention. 
Spencer couldn’t help but notice the big-name celebrities getting their own dressing rooms, while some were grouped with their fellow cast members of a show he had never heard of. They passed a green room filled with some comic book writers and illustrators, before finally arriving at Lila’s dressing room. The smell of hairspray and nail polish remover hit his nose, and he was trying not to breathe normally. When you moved to stand next to him, Spencer let out a breath, just a little. 
“Look, I need your help,” Lila said, leaning against one of the vanities. “Professionally.”
You furrowed your eyebrows. “You mean like, private security or?”
“I mean like, FBI,” she admitted. You and Spencer exchanged a glance. “Look, I know you guys are probably on leave or something but, Spencer, please hear me out?”
Spencer hesitated. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to help Lila, but like she said, he was on leave, with the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, and he wasn’t in the mood to steer up old feelings. You could sense his hesitation and gave him a pointed look. 
“Okay,” Spencer relented. “What’s going on?”
Lila turned and started to rummage through her black duffel bag. “You know I have crazy fans‒”
“I do,” Spencer blurted out. You jabbed his side with your elbow. “Ow.”
“I have been receiving these‒” Lila came up with a stack of ripped-up envelopes, waving them in front of you. “Letters since forever. But this time it’s different.”
“Different how?” You asked. 
“I started dating this guy a month ago. And three days ago I received this letter that’s more violent than others.”
“How violent?” 
“Enough that my agent and security team flagged it and went back to find letters sent by the same person. They also shared it with my boyfriend’s security team but since the sender hasn’t made any threats or broken any laws, they can’t really do anything about it.”
You reached over a vanity and grabbed a pair of disposable rubber gloves, though they were black. 
“Make-up artists,” you said, as an explanation. You reached over to the latest letter, sitting down on one of the chairs to read it. Spencer stood behind you, reading over your shoulder. “That is violent, alright. But this is mostly targeted at your boyfriend. Any idea why?”
“Well, my boyfriend’s family is a little ‒controversial,” Lila said sheepishly. 
Spencer frowned. “Who’s your boyfriend?”
As if on cue, someone tried to open the door to the dressing room. The handle jiggled as whoever was outside struggled to open it.  In response, you drew up your prop gun and pointed it at the intruder, cocking it. 
“Did you just‒” Spencer said. “Is that not a prop?”
You stood up and walked closer to the door. Spencer stood over Lila, who was frozen in surprise. “It’s like you don’t know me at all, Dr. Reid.”
“Guys, I think it’s just my boyfr‒” Lila started to say, but the door opened, a guy stepped inside the room and‒
“FBI, hands where I can see them!” 
“Whoa! Jesus‒” The guy in a three-piece suit raised his arms to his head, startled and panicked. Usually, you didn’t like doing the whole narc thing, but after reading that letter, better safe than sorry. “Lila! Wait, Y/N? Y/N L/N?”
“It’s Agent‒ oh, shit.” You recognized that voice, that accent, and that face, truly, even though it had been close to twenty years since you last saw him. Sighing, you lowered your gun and turned to Lila. “Really, Lila? Nicholas Alonso is your boyfriend?”
Lila peeked behind Spencer’s shoulder, and you tried to ignore how closely they stood together with Lila pinned between him and her vanity. “You know each other?”
You tried to ignore Nicholas’ stare burning your face off. He just stood there, frozen, mouth agape. “We’ve‒we’ve met.”
“Really?” Spencer couldn’t suspend his disbelief. 
“Is that true?” Lila asked her boyfriend for confirmation. Her boyfriend, who was currently opening and closing his mouth in disbelief, still. “Baby? Nick!”
Nicholas broke out of his trance. “Right, yeah, sorry, it’s just ‒wow. Y/N L/N in the flesh. I can’t believe ‒wait, you’re FBI now?”
Spencer was a seasoned profiler. While, you might be a former spy, but you were also his friend–his best friend. He knew you like the back of his hand and more. He saw your unsteady hands, your rigid stance, and the impatience radiating off of you. 
He tried to ignore how Nicholas Alonso looked at you like you were the incarnation of Aphrodite herself, and Nicholas was a mere mortal at your altar. Suddenly, he just wanted to go back to your room and celebrate his birthday there.
“This nostalgia has been great and all,” Spencer said. “But can we go back to the imminent threat to the event, please?”
“Please,” you said, turning back to Lila. “They have fingerprint dust all over them. Did you ever get any ID?”
This time, Nicholas shook his head. “None. Valerie Khan saw to it herself.”
A flash of worry crossed your eyes. Then, you explained, for Spencer's sake. “Valerie Khan of Khan Securities. She's just right next to the CIA for all things security, surveillance, and whatnot. That's where I get almost all of my counter surveillance team.”
“Right,” Spencer said. “Cassandra's girlfriend?”
“Yep. Well, sort of,” you grimaced. “Anyway, these letters are written on the same stationary, yes, but I don't think they're written by the same person.”
You handed the stack of paper to Spencer to study. Skimming it, Spencer concluded. “Yeah, you're right. The first letter received and the last one is very different linguistically.”
“You should go over them. I'll dig deeper and call Garcia.” You told Spencer. You turned to Nicholas. “We need surveillance access of the whole building.”
“Of course,” Nicholas said, getting up to get one of his guys. The man in a Star Trek get up mumbled something to his earpiece, then turned back to Nicholas.
The four of you (and two of Nicholas's men), went through more of the corridor mazes and another floor to enter a room filled with monitor screens. A woman in her late forties greeted you, promising uncompromised cooperation for the FBI.
“About that,” you said, pulling up your phone to dial Garcia. You walked over to where Spencer was sitting with the letters. The line connected in another second. “Hi, Penny.”
“Hello, my sweetness!” She greeted, then was followed up by the sound of people talking in the background. “No, shut up! I might be able to hear what they're doing!”
“Pen,” you sighed. “Is everyone there? Including Hotch?”
A pause, then a sigh. “Yes.”
“Can you put me on speaker, please?”
“Okay. Just so you know, they're on the jet to San Diego for a case.”
You and Spencer exchanged panicked glances, but you reminded yourself that this was for Lila and possibly hundreds of other people.
“Uh, so Spencer and I–” you started, but was cut off by Emily.
“Sorry, you're with Spencer? I thought you said—”
“Spencer and I,” you said loudly, pointedly, cutting her off before she could finish the sentence. “Ran into something. Might be big. Um, remember Lila Archer?” 
“Hell yeah, how could we forget?” Derek snickered.
“We're with her. Right now. And you're on speaker.” Spencer said in a deadpan tone.
“Anyway,” you went on. “She had been receiving stalkery letters with an escalation to domestic terrorism. We need authorization to proceed.”
“Okay, we'll divide and conquer. I'll send Prentiss down to meet you and the rest will work the serial burglary case.” Hotch said. 
“Not that I don't appreciate the help, but I think we have a shorter pool of suspects than you guys. We'll rendezvous at SDPD after we're done.”
Derek interjected. “How do you know you're going to solve your case faster than ours?”
“Mostly because I have established a timeline for the letters and we have intimate knowledge of the victims.” Spencer bragged as he pinned up the letters with magnets on the whiteboard. He had put them in a layer of protective plastic. You gasped in disbelief.
Like blood in the water, they took the bait. “What do you mean intimate knowledge–”
“Okay, thank you guys, bye!” You were ready to rip a new one to Spencer right after you hung up the phone, but he started to explain his preliminary findings.
“There are eight letters in total. Based on slang, grammar, synthax, and handwriting, the first letter looks like it's been written by a teenage girl. Probably around fifteen or sixteen. This same girl wrote the other five letters each year, all dated around Christmas or New Year's.”
“What about the last two?” Nicholas asked. 
Spencer sent him an impatient glance. “The seventh letter was written by the same girl, but it was dated two days before the last letter. This broke the pattern. The seventh letter is a warning. Look, ‘I am sorry that I put you in harm's way’ and ‘Please don't go to San Diego’. I think whoever wrote these original letters is trying to warn Lila about the writer of the last letter.”
“Which is the threat,” you concluded. You took the letter off the whiteboard. “Listen to this: ‘you tainted the river, you have to pay the price. This is a message you'd want to heed.’ The letter also said ‘your new love is ink in water’ yikes.”
Spencer nodded, then turned to Lila and Nicholas. “Anyone you think would hate the both of you enough to write that letter?”
“I've never pissed anyone off,” Nicholas said, glancing at you. “Except, you know.”
“Oh, please,” you rolled your eyes. “Your family has pissed off more people than the population of Moldova.”
“I mean, I get hate messages all the time. That's why my team didn't think it was important enough. Especially with my new movie coming out.” Lila said. 
Before you could reply, a security guard walked into the room. “Agents, I think you should see this.”
The four of you followed the guard to his surveillance station. His screen was showing a camera from outside of the staff entrance, a guard was arguing with someone doing delivery. 
“My guy said this guy is trying to deliver flowers to Ms. Archer, but we won't let him through, you know, considering.”
“Tell your men to bring him here. Don't touch any of his deliveries.” Spencer said. He turned to you. “You go talk to him. I'll have CSU search his van.”
It had been fifteen minutes of you with the delivery guy in the break room. Your back was to them, sitting on that break stool as you extracted information from the guy. Spencer tried not to get antsy as he waited for CSU’s report. 
“So,” Nicholas started. “How long have you two been dating?”
Spencer expected this question, especially since Lila was away talking to her team about her upcoming meet and greet. He looked over at the man, tie lost and shirt unbuttoned. 
“A year,” the lie was easy to slip off his lips.
“Wow. Good, that's–that’s good,” Nicholas said, leaning back on the chair. “How has she been?”
“Good,” he said. Then, he thought about it. “Better.”
“Good. God, I never thought I'd see her again.”
Spencer's curiosity was clawing at his chest. “Why?”
“Yeah, I don't expect her to tell you about me,” Nicholas laughed. “I was her best friend through Cambridge. Not a lot of people can keep up with her brain, but I just needed to understand her art. We were in a lot of pain back then and–I told her I loved her. She told me that was uncalled for.” he sighed. “She left one day, just told me to trust her. Came back three months later and I told her to fuck off. Haven't seen her since.”
If the timeline was right, it would be around the time you were recruited by the CIA. 
“She was always meant for something bigger than us. Than me.” Nicholas looked at Spencer, then, finally averting his eyes from you. “I'm glad she has you.”
Something shifted on Spencer's chest. Something so visceral and fundamental, like the Californian tectonic plates shifting. Before he could decipher it though, one of the security guards walked out the break room with the delivery boy, followed by you with two cups in your hands.
You made your way to him (to them), and handed each of them a cup. Spencer's was green tea and the other a regular black for Nicholas.
“They don't have an espresso machine. Suck it up, princess,” you told Nicholas. As if on cue, Nicholas sputtered as he tasted the bad coffee. “He’s just some delivery boy. He was taken to give his statement downtown. He did say the flowers were not just for Lila, but also Kyle Matthews, Gwendolyn Brooks, Jordan King, and Emma Winfrey.”
You gave the Post-it of names to Spencer, who was ready to call Garcia to find their connection. Though, before he could, Lila’s gasp cut through the room.
“Oh god,” she said. “He's targeting the movie!”
“She's right,” Nicholas said. “This is my producerial debut. Kyle is our casting director, Jordan and Emma are part of the main cast, and Gwendolyn wrote the comic books this movie is based on.”
“Not just the main cast,” you said. Spencer caught your eyes in understanding. Then, you said in unison, “Main people of color casts.”
Spencer's phone rang suddenly, cutting the tension of the newfound realization. He picked it up and put it on speaker. “Garcia?”
“Kevin, actually,” the voice said. “Garcia had to do the burglary case–but anyway, the truck is clean and so are the flowers. Except for the flowers for Lila. All flowers have the same note on them, which says ‘on the stage, one by one, you will be cleansed’. For Lila, it says ‘don’t go to the panel’.”
“It's probably the original writer of the letters. They tampered with the flowers.” You said. “Anything else?”
“Yes, the prints found on the vase and the note belong to Amber Gallagher, a local community college student who runs a Lila Archer fan page.”
“Why would she threaten Lila if she loves her?” Nicholas asked.
“She didn't, but her brother, Aiden Gallagher, is a member of a chat chain for white supremacy and Nazism.” Kevin added.
You nodded. “Have SDPD find them and search their place. Have you updated Hotch?”
“Yes, ma'am,” Kevin said. “Sorry, yes, Garcia is updating Hotch on both cases right now.”
“Thank you, Kevin!” You said before hanging up. “So, Gwendolyn's superhero comic books–?”
“Yeah, uh, Jordan and Emma are playing the main couple. Two superheroes from the Bronx. I play the villain.” Lila explained. “Their characters were drawn white in the comic books.”
“When my family's production company won the rights, we didn't want to limit the casting, you know? Lila auditioned for Emma's role, but I knew she'd be better as the villainess. The character is more complex. It's how we met,” you and Spencer didn't miss the way his fingers held hers, intertwined to give each other comfort. 
You took your seat next to Lila, across from Spencer. Below the table, you felt his shoes pressing against yours. You looked up, only to find him focused on your interview notes with the delivery guy.
Twenty minutes later, Hotch called to inform you that both Amber and Aiden were not in their places. Their phones pinged at the conference hall, he said. 
“Okay, how do we find them?” Lila asked.
“We can't let the panel go on,” you said, calling over the security team. “Cancel the 3 o'clock panel right now. Make sure everyone targeted is in the green room with Khan's men outside.”
“But won't this guy sense something wrong? What if he blew up or something?” Nicholas asked.
“Yes, but we can't risk the lives of hundreds of people to lure him out. Especially not in a closed room,” Spencer explained. “But we still need to lure him out.”
“Spencer,” you said in a warning tone. “We are not putting them in the crossfire.”
“Oh, come on, usually you'll be the first to volunteer a trap,”
“Yeah, when we're trained professionals being the bait!”
“Agent Reid is right,” Nicholas interjected. 
“It’s doctor,” you both corrected at the same time. 
“Doctor Reid is right,” he repeated. “He can wear a mask, or a costume, we can't identify him based on just surveillance. I need to do this.”
“If he's doing it then I'm doing it too!” Lila said.
“Nick,” you said. “I can't ask you to do this.”
“You aren't,” Nicholas said with conviction. He gave you a reassuring smile. “We're volunteering.”
**
The event organizers and company behind it complied after Hotch came down and cleared everything up. The panel was still canceled, but they set up a meet and greet with Lila and Nicholas outside with photo-op and fan sign. It was set up on the outside gardens by the piers. You stood near them, along with plain-clothed SDPD, while Spencer was on the other side of the crowd. 
“I heard from Aaliyah that you were back,” Nicholas said as you fastened his bulletproof vest.
“Apparently I am.”
“Where have you been?” He asked, looking down at you as you slipped him his earpiece. “Where did you go? I looked for you everywhere.”
“Doesn't matter now,” you said, determined to ignore him. You moved to walk away, let him put on his shirt and the rest of his linen suit, but he stopped you.
“At least tell me this,” he said. “Do you love him?”
You looked at Nicholas Alonso, the heir of Alonso Productions, the first person you left behind, and you steeled your resolve. “Be careful out there. Don't do anything stupid.”
The showdown went like this:
The fans were lined up in a single file line with plain clothed officers guarding them. You stood behind a propped up booth, watching the crowd. 
“No matter what happens,” you told them in the briefing after Spencer delivered the profile. “Do not open fire. You will be armed with non-lethal weapons. We do not want to cause a mass panic that can lead to a stampede or worse.”
Only you and Spencer were armed with real bullets. That, and the guy in a U.S. Army camouflage costume looking antsy as hell, making a beeline for Lila and Nicholas.
“Do we have a positive ID?” you asked through your earpiece.
No answer for half a minute. Then, Spencer. “We do. We have Amber. That's him.”
“Let's do this quietly,” you said. “Go.”
In the split minute that an officer was trying to escort the crowds out of the way, Aiden realized something was wrong. He noticed the uniformed officers making their way towards him, and he pulled out his gun.
“Don't move!” he said. Nicholas and Lila froze in shock as another officer was trying to escort them out.
You drew your own weapon and stood in front of him, blocking his view from Lila and Nicholas. 
“You don't want to do this, Aiden,” you said. “Drop the weapon, slowly!”
“You think you can tell me what to do, bitch?” He screamed. “You ruined everything! Just like my dyke sister! They need to be cleansed!”
“They have done nothing wrong, Aiden, as haven't you. Put the gun down and we can talk about this.” You said, which, apparently, was the wrong thing to say. It happened in a blur.
Aiden raised his gun, his finger on the trigger, “Shut up, bitch–”
He was tackled to the ground. 
You saw Spencer pinning Aiden to the gravel, but you didn't let up. Your gun was still pointed at Aiden as you approached him and kicked his gun away. Spencer, in his Luke Skywalker get up, lined with his own bulletproof vest, caught a handcuff tossed by an officer.
“You couldn't have done that earlier?” You teased.
“And get in the way of your FBI moment?” Spencer grinned, pulling Aiden up and handing him to SDPD.
You turned to Lila and Nicholas, who were hugging in relief. “Let's get you guys downtown so you can give your statement.”
Lila ran up and gave Spencer a thankful hug. Meanwhile, Nicholas approached you with the caution of a man approaching a lion. 
“I haven't seen you in almost twenty years and the first time I do, you're saving my life,” he said. “Thank you.”
You shrugged. “I'm just doing my job.”
“Doesn't matter. I owe you one now,” he insisted. “Anything you want, okay?”
You never held a grudge against Nick, not really. There were regrets, but you mostly blamed yourself for what happened. So you gave him a nod, a smile, and said, “Might just hold you to that, Alonso.”
“Ready to go, ma'am?” An officer asked Lila and Nicholas. “Oh, and Agent L/N, Agent Hotchner said to meet him after this.”
“Thank you, officer.” You told her. She led Lila and Nicholas to her cruiser. You turned to Spencer, “You hungry?”
“Yeah, but,” he started. “Can we just order room service?”
“Of course, pretty boy.”
119 notes · View notes
thesightstoshowyou · 6 months
Text
🩸BLOODFEST🩸
Week 1
Prompts: Fire. Wound(s). Suburbs. Bondage
Keywords: Acrid. Malignant
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Au Courant
(Part 1)
Asa Emory x AFAB Reader
Summary: Meeting your soulmate doesn’t quite go as you’d hoped.
Warnings: Soulmate AU, angst
~ Aeons ago, I answered this ask and I’ve been thinking about it ever since. So, here’s a fic ~
~~
Ding.
The automatic bell above the door chimes as you enter. The grocery store bustles with activity, people fresh from work hurrying to finish their shopping before returning to their sleepy suburbs. It’s barely-controlled chaos.
Retrieving a basket, you check the post-it note list in your pocket. Just a few things.
Aisle 3 first.
You’re slower than the rest as you scan the shelves, eyes unfocusing at random, the different brands of aluminum foil failing to hold your attention. Your mind is elsewhere.
Shelly found her soulmate today.
You knew the moment she walked into the office this morning. The sparkling eyes, the lovesick grin, they way she seemed to float with each step; it’s a look you’ve seen on others before. So, so many others.
Try as you might, you had not been able to avoid her for long. Pairs, as they’re called, could never keep it to themselves for long, seemingly intent on torturing you with their newfound wholeness.
They’d met on the train. She’d been running late and had to take a later line than usual. It was fate, she said. They never would have met otherwise.
Blah, blah, blah. You wanted to puke.
Everyone in your office had found their soulmate, one way or another. Everyone but you. Shelly was the last, the only coworker to whom you could relate. Now, you’re alone in more ways than one.
It would happen, they all told you. One day, your eyes would meet theirs and you would feel it: That spark, that final puzzle piece snapping into place, that pure feeling of absolute plenitude. It’s not something you could comprehend until you felt it, they said.
They’d meant to help, to give you hope, but their words only served to deepen the wounds of isolation. The malignant ache of loneliness festers a little more every year you go without meeting your other half. You’ve almost resigned yourself to a life of solitude.
It has been known to happen. Some unfortunate people go their whole lives without meeting their soulmate. It’s heart wrenching to see them out and about, a single, lonely figure in a sea of Pairs.
Would you be one of them?
Hastily, you shake your head, coming back to yourself and swallowing the acrid tang of self pity creeping up your throat. You slink to the next aisle over. A quick glance at your sticky note prompts you to retrieve a jar of pasta sauce. Bread is next.
You round the corner, eyes on your list. Bread, waffles, maybe you should get some ice cream—
You run headfirst into a solid chest, the impact so jarring you drop your basket. The glass jar of pasta sauce shatters, marinara splattering all over your shoes and the other’s scuffed boots. Strong hands seize your upper arms to keep you from toppling backward.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry—
The words die on your tongue when you meet the dark eyes of the man with whom you collided. His expression is one of cold fury. It chills you to the bone, freezes your soul, invokes a terror so deep in your mind you cannot draw breath. Then….
Click.
Your eyes widen. Fear dissipates instantly, replaced with unequivocal certainty. A spark ignites within you, warms your heart, sends a thrill racing up your spine.
It’s like that final puzzle piece snapping into place. No terror, only perfect completion.
Wholeness.
Now, you understand. Now, you see.
You stare in stunned silence at one another, his now shocked expression mirroring yours. A tremulous exhale spills from your lips. The grip on your arms tightens.
You take him in, as much as you can while keeping your gaze locked with his. He’s tall and broad-shouldered. “Powerful” is the first word that comes to mind. His strong jaw is peppered with stubble, the barest hints of gray flecking it and his brown hair. With your eyes, you trace the thin, white scars littering his face: One through his eyebrow, one through his lips, more slashed across his cheek and the bridge of his nose. His eyes…. His eyes are so dark—black?—and they glitter like beetle’s wings.
You inhale, part your lips to say something, to break the tense silence, but then his expression changes. His brows furrow, his lips press into a thin line. The cold scowl returns.
He releases your arms like you’ve burned him. Stepping away from you, he spins on his heel and quickly strides away. Incredulous, you watch the back of his jean jacket as he retreats, acutely aware of the knowing looks your exchange has garnered.
“Hey! Hey, wait!” you call, slipping a little in pasta sauce as you hurry after him. You pass a disgruntled employee and murmur an apology, you’ll help clean it up, you promise, you just need one moment….
The door chimes again as the man—your soulmate—all but flees to the parking lot. You pursue, half-jogging to catch up
“Stop! Please, why are you—
He turns to face you so fast you barely register what’s happening. A palm returns to your upper arm, another wrapping around your throat as he seizes you, spins, and shoves you up against the nearest vehicle. The noisy thud as your back collides with steel disturbs the muted hustle of post-work suburbia.
You gasp, equal parts shocked and impressed by the show of speed. You’re bewildered by your feelings, heart thudding in your chest, face hot. He just slammed you into a car and you’re blushing for chirst’s sake.
His own expression is pinched, strained. His voice, so pleasantly deep and rough, is terse as he speaks through his teeth, “You do not want to go down this road with me.”
You blink, your frenzied mind racing to process his words. “I…yes, I do. You’re—
“Forget this happened. Forget. It.” You flinch like he cut you, his words stinging like alcohol in a wound. You shake your head.
“…How?” you whisper. Your eyes burn. There’s no way you could ever, ever forget him now, not in any sense of the word. You’re connected on the deepest level, your very souls entwined. How could he say something like this? How could he want this? Does he not feel this bond like you do?
His jaw clenches. He pushes you away, not hard enough to make you fall, but firmly enough to make a point. Keys jingle as he retrieves them from his pocket. They rattle against the truck door—the one he’d pushed you against—until the lock clicks. He doesn’t look back as he slides into the driver’s seat, slams the door. The engine roars to life.
You watch, frozen to the spot, adrenaline and distress thrumming under your skin as the vehicle pulls away. It ambles through the parking lot, makes a left turn onto the street, disappears into traffic.
Your eyes burn.
Slowly, like your arm weighs a ton, you reach up to touch your cheek. It’s wet. You’re crying, you realize.
A new wound opens up, settles into your chest next to the loneliness:
Heartbreak.
229 notes · View notes
grimmylilsunshine · 2 months
Text
Some dark stuff and angst time. Writing this more for myself.
This should be obvious but this isn't a post for romanticizing this crap. I'm just writing this for self comfort and venting. If it bothers ya, you can simply just not interact with it, block, ignore.
Warnings: Mention of the reader dealing with depression, suicidal thoughts, mentions of past suicide attempts, self harm / harming, etc. Proceed with caution.
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It was depressing but oddly poetic Grim thought. The mortal with the brightest soul that was of life, ironically enough, was part of a mortal who often wished to die.
Countless times he witnessed your suicide attempts, your failures on succeeding or going through with it. Your break downs and spiral into darkness and mental breaks from your own mind attacking you.
He only was waiting for the day it'll finally happen, and to have that bright soul that bothered him, but oddly enough pulled him too, reaped once and for all.
Though as years went on, and the longer you lived on than you should of. Which astonished from the way you lived, and barely survived. He had to soon enough take matters into his own hands.
However the moment he made contact with you, he felt that pull grow stronger. He started to see things more about you that he wished he didn't.
The sunshine before him, you, put on a strong face, a smile, a mask. So convincing in fact, even he often forgot the darkness and demons that troubled you.
But as time went on, and the more you opened up. The more mask started to crack, break and crumble before him.
It was like flickers, but he could see the emptiness, the hopelessness in your eyes.
It bothered him. Upset him. But he tried to focus on the job at hand. Which was reaping your soul...
Until one day he couldn't help but just focus on your care and wellbeing.
Once again, you tried to put on that forced fake yet convincing smile...but this time it wasn't working. He could see the tiredness in your eyes, the smile not reaching those eyes. As well the exhaustion visible even from your soul...
The light in you was dimming again, and he couldn't stand it.
💀 "Sunshine...Did you sleep at all?"
🌻 "...Yeah, a bit...Couldn't really sleep well again though..."
💀 "...I see..."
💀 "...Did you eat?"
🌻 "...A little."
💀 "What did you eat?"
🌻 "...Nothing much. Just crackers...I really don't feel hungry today to be honest."
💀 "...Did you go out to get some sunlight? Some air? Also did you drink any water?"
🌻 "I don't like going out much now...and yeah...I think?"
💀 "..."
🌻 "....."
💀 "What are you thinking about right now?"
🌻 "..."
💀 "...Sunshine?"
🌻 "...Can we end this call now? I'm suddenly feeling tired again and--"
💀 "No. I'm not letting you go until you tell me what's wrong."
🌻 "Why do you care?...You want me dead right? To have my soul? Just leave me alone and maybe you'll finally get it sooner than you think."
💀 "Sunshine, I--You don't--That's it. I'm going over there right now."
🌻 "What? Why? You don't hav--"
Before you could say anything else, he dropped the call and didn't text back no matter how much you sent messages. Suddenly you felt like you screwed up again, that you might of made him angry, or hate you truly now.
The dark thoughts started to flood back in at a intensity now, you just wanted to escape from it all. So you searched around in your drawers, looking for anything sharp again to help but before you could grab anything. A knocking was heard at your window.
You looked up to see Casper with a serious yet worried expression on his face.
💀 "Open the window, Sunshine. Let me in."
🌻 "..."
You did as you were told, and let the Grim Reaper in.
Before you could get a word out, he grabbed you and pulled you in for a tight hug. At first you stiffen at his touch and hold, you weren't used to this...and you wanted to push him away, but same time didn't.
💀 "It's okay, Sunshine...I'm right here now. You don't have to go through this all alone...You don't have to act strong around me. I promise, I won't leave you. I won't hate you. I won't let you suffer alone anymore. It's okay."
It took a moment for you to finally relax in his hold, and you were nervous to hug him back. But after a slow but struggling attempt to fight against your own body and mind, you finally did. And for once, even though his touch was cold...You felt warmth, love and safety from a embrace again...
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The Second Caress (Gale/Halsin/F!Tav One Shot)
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Summary: After the fivesome with the drow twins and Halsin, you check in on Gale, afraid you may have destroyed the relationship. Gale has some surprising confessions for you though.
Warnings: Gale Main Relationship, Deep Conversations, Voyeurism, Hot Wifing, Praise Kink, F/M/M threesome, Spitroasting, Shyness, Pre-Patch 6, Dom Gale, Open Relationship, Making Boundaries, Ranger Tav
*No use of the name 'Tav' so can be read as a reader insert too*
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Gale had been avoiding my gaze ever since we’d left Sharess’ Caress,
No sooner had we gotten back over the boundary line than he sped off to his tent and buttoned the flap up. I’d never seen him move so quickly.
“Don’t take it to heart,” Halsin put a hand on my shoulder. “He is old enough to have expressed his displeasure if he felt it. As for my part, I hope I have expressed the pleasure that I felt with you today well enough. Thank you for the experience.”
“I enjoyed your company too but I should attend to Gale,” I was concentrating on the tent, worried I may have destroyed the relationship I was building.
Sex to me was easy, casual, but sharing the deepest parts of my soul with another was much more difficult. Gale, on the other hand, seemed to view intimacy and love as one and the same.
This had all been much simpler when we both thought Gale was destined to die but stabilising the Netherese Orb had highlighted our crucial core differences. I would’ve walked away, I should’ve walked away but I fell for his slightly egotistical charm, his passion for knowledge and the soft way he treated me. 
“Gale, may I come in?” I hesitated outside.
“Uh, yes. Of course. One moment,” he sounded strained. 
There was some rustling and then the flap was unbuttoned. He looked slightly dishevelled as he invited me in, his cheeks a rosy pink.
“Are you alright?” I sat down.
“Fine. Never better.”
“Can we talk about…about what happened?”
“What did you want to talk about?” Gale’s smile was a little forced and he was shifting oddly.
“Why did you go along with it if it made you uncomfortable? I didn’t think you’d leave.”
“Look, I…for all my bluster, I’m not as experienced as you think I am. I didn’t want to disappoint you. I know you are wild, it is part of my attraction to you if I am honest with myself, and I am most decidedly not. I was afraid of embarrassing myself. The drow twins and Halsin are much more proficient at this sort of thing and I get shy just changing in front of a window.”
“I don’t understand why. You’re beautiful,” I reached tentatively for his face and he leant into the touch. “You’ve had my eye ever since we formed this band of companions. You also had to have heard the noises you can pull from me without resorting to magic.”
“The most wonderful chorus,” he moved closer. “But the Weave has been my crutch ever since Mystra and I have quite forgotten how to love without it, let alone do anything truly acrobatic. I did not leave because I was uncomfortable, I left because…because I needed to learn whatever I could to make you happy. You know me, I am a student at heart. How else am I to know what ruins you if I can’t watch from afar, examine your reactions? I just shut out the others to make my observations.”
“Your chest though, it glowed.”
Gale turned an even deeper shade of red and started stumbling over his words.
“You can tell me anything,” I prompted. “At least, I would hope you feel safe enough to tell me anything.”
“I…I didn’t expect to…I enjoyed it. I enjoyed watching you, I always do but watching you with another…it’s shameful, isn’t it?”
“Not at all.”
“This is all so confusing,” Gale touched his head to mine. “The envy I have, the lust, the pride that others desire you.”
“It doesn’t need to be confusing.”
“May I confess something? I came into this tent because I needed relief. I was so busy taking notes that I neglected myself.”
“Do you need some help with that?” I tipped his chin up, brushing my lips against his. 
“By Mystra, you’re still that energetic?!”
I winced at the mention of the goddess and it didn’t go unnoticed. While Gale had his own insecurity about his self-worth, I had my own about measuring up to the literal embodiment of the Weave.
“I’m sorry,” Gale pulled me onto his lap, gazing up at me with adoring eyes. “We both have our flaws it seems.”
“We do, but just know that this,” I placed his palm over my heart. “This is only yours if you still want it.”
“I would have it for eternity.”
Just as we began to kiss, I felt a presence outside the tent and heard a cough. We broke apart, trying not to get caught unawares.
“Gale, may I speak with you?” It was Halsin. “I would be remiss if I didn’t try to smooth things over.”
“Oh, right, yes. Come in,” Gale placed a cushion over his groin.
My poor wizard was destined for torment today it seemed.
Halsin entered, his large presence taking up the remaining room as he buttoned the flap behind him for privacy. I had to sit across Gale so we didn’t all end up on top of each other.
“I sensed your reticence in the drows’ room and I want to make sure you understand that it-”
“-Halsin, I’m aware it was a bit of fun for you and for her,” Gale interrupted, choosing his words carefully. “I’m just contending with realisations about myself.”
“Realisations?”
“You’re not going to make me say it, are you?”
He was painfully embarrassed and his lack of confidence made me cling to him tighter. I inwardly cursed how much Mystra had destroyed his self-esteem and I got the feeling there were darker and more deviant sides to Gale if only he’d stop chastising his own wants.
“Ah,” Halsin’s eyes glittered with understanding. “Look, I enjoyed my time with our fearless leader in that room but it is obvious to all that she chooses you as her sole lifemate. I respect that and I do not wish to intrude on what you have any further.”
Gale’s hand tightened around my waist as he steeled himself, using me as a form of comfort, “I cannot share her love. It is not how I am. Call it old-fashioned but I believe there is only room for one in a heart. I…I can share her form though, to a degree. An occasional playmate. You would be the only one of this band of merry adventurers that I’d trust with that, if you are willing.”
Two sets of gazes fell on me, one hungry yet polite and one nervous yet excited. 
“I will not deny that I wouldn’t crave further time with her but set rules amongst yourselves and if I feel these are not being upheld or that it is causing upset, I will back away from your relationship. Is that fair?”
“This is why I trust you,” Gale nodded. “You have experience in these matters.”
“Will I also get the pleasure of your company?”
I thought Gale was going to stop breathing. He made an odd little choking sound before gathering himself. 
“Uh, I…uh…”
“If you wanted to,” I stroked his cheek gently. “I have no objections. It wouldn’t be fair of me to demand all the attention. Perhaps I might enjoy watching also.”
It’s not like I hadn’t seen Gale appreciating Halsin’s body whenever he’d take his armour off or even fleeting looks towards Astarion as he stretched out the kinks of a battle heavy day. Astarion was far too complicated to consider for this sort of arrangement though. 
“You will both need to be patient with me. This is all very new,” Gale finally spoke. “One person desiring me seems miraculous enough.”
“Then I will leave you to talk,” Halsin started to get up but Gale stretched out a hand and pushed his shoulder down. “Oh?”
Was Gale about to…?
He had a different look about him now. More sure of himself. 
“If you could do me one favour before we sort out how this will work?” He began. “I’m afraid in my soul-searching state, I did not properly appreciate what was happening in front of me in Sharess’ Caress, nor did I fully enjoy it as I should’ve. Would you allow me the benefit of a more personal show?”
“Are you sure?” Both Halsin and I spoke at once, causing Gale to laugh a little. 
“It is admirable you both care for my wellbeing but I am sure. Perhaps it was the drow twins I did not care for much but how you so gallantly picked her up and pinned her against the wall Halsin…she looked divinely beautiful. The way you hungered for her also, it brings me pride that I can call her heart mine.”
“Well spoken,” Halsin smiled. “She is indeed beautiful and a wonderously wild creature. Very well. I would not want to leave you unfulfilled.”
“Are you absolutely decided?” I gave Gale one last opportunity to call this off. 
He didn’t say anything but kissed me with a passion that was unusually aggressive for him before pushing me lightly towards Halsin. 
“Come here, little one,” Halsin accepted me onto his lap. “Gale, why don’t you tell us what you’ll find most pleasing to view?”
Giving him all the control was the easiest way to make this comfortable for everyone. I did wonder if my dear wizard would be able to speak his mind truly on the more erotic phrases he would need to command.
“You can start by kissing her, the mouth then the neck. She does so enjoy that.”
By the time Halsin was teasing me with the scrapes of his teeth along my throat, I was fully focused on Gale’s reaction. His eyes could bore holes into me, so intense was his gaze. I saw, in that moment, the darker part of him he didn’t know he had. 
“Rip her clothing off,” came the low, rumbling order.
“Rip?” I was caught off guard.
“I can always buy you another shirt,” Gale flashed me a cocky smile as Halsin tore the fabric to pieces and pitched me onto my back, head just shy of Gale’s leg. “Besides, I think we discovered something that you like today if that gasp is to be believed.”
He was right. The more Gale puppetered the first druid to act as his most animalistic self that he could without wildshaping, the more I responded to it. I became unreasonably eager to get Halsin’s clothes off but I was stopped by his mouth leaving the promises of painful pleasure across my chest, my torso, down to the juncture of my thighs. 
“You never tasted her in Sharess’ Caress. Tell me how she is,” I didn’t know when Gale had removed all of his clothes bar his underwear. 
“Like honey,” Halsin growled a reply, desperately still trying to keep contact with his tongue. “Sweet, delectable. You are lucky to be able to indulge in such a feast regularly.”
Halsin knew exactly what my wizard wanted to hear. Perhaps he’d done something similar in his long lifetime. The surprise came from the fact that I became slicker listening to the praises the two men shared between themselves about me. 
“If I didn’t know any better,” Gale leaned down, faking a whisper. “I’d say being worshipped like this is getting you close. I know your signs. Are you close, my love?”
“Yes!” The moan burst out of me and not a second later Gale’s palm clamped over my lips.
“Let’s not have the whole camp listening. As much as I’d dearly love to see some of their envious faces later, they’d want you too much after this.”
We’d only ever had trysts in the forest before, up a tower, in the mouth of a shallow cave. Never had we brought our antics directly into the camp.
“Open her up with your fingers as well,” Gale went back to relaying commands as Halsin obeyed with greedy vigour. “You’re not a small man by any means, friend. She needs to be properly prepared.”
The combination of the curling fingertips against my inner walls and the ardent swirling of his tongue had my head falling back and my spine arching. Already my thighs were tensing, shaking as they pushed the feeling of pleasure towards the brink.
“There it is,” Gale cooed, running his free hand over my breast with feathering touches. “Come on now. Show Halsin your appreciation for his talents. Be good for me.”
I’d never heard such an authoritative tone from him before and it shot straight to the core of me, mingling with the sensations as it finally crested and I half screamed my delight to the canvas walls. Even with my mouth muffled, I swore I heard Astarion chuckling to himself outside.
“Gods, I think everyone is discovering things about themselves,” Halsin surfaced, palming his groin which looked painfully hard. 
Gale replaced his palm with his lips, brimming with adoring words before he physically turned me over and had Halsin bring my hips up, vulnerable and open to him.
“This way I can see your beautiful face,” he then leant back, losing the last of his shyness as he pushed his underwear off and I felt the rustling of Halsin stripping behind me.
Before anything further happened though, the druid was coaxed to bend over my back, warm chest brushing against my skin and a test of my own came. 
Gale’s mirror image had only interacted with me earlier but now the real one reached up and met Halsin. I felt no ugly emotions as the two kissed, sharing the taste of me between them. I was proud, in fact, that he’d been so brave as to make the first move.
“I don’t think you’re arching low enough, my love,” Gale then gently pushed my back down so my rear stuck out more. “I know you like a man to get deep enough that you feel it the next morning. Halsin? Be my guest.”
Just as I felt the tip of Halsin’s cock pressing against me, Gale began stroking his own to the sight. All of a sudden Halsin pushed forward, stealing my breath away.
“If you don’t stop making so much noise, I’ll have to put my belt in your mouth to stifle you,” Gale warned playfully. 
“Then give me something to fill it!” I desperately pleaded, being jolted by the harsh motion of Halsin’s hips.
“No. I want to watch you some more.”
Gods, where did this confident man spring from? Once he’d settled into the idea, he’d become positively domineering, something I enjoyed immensely. Both men couldn’t fail to notice that when slick sounds punctuated the air along with my bitten whimpers.
“All of this is lovely information, of course,” Gale continued, hand moving faster, voice straining a little. “I’ve certainly got more than enough to keep you drunk on pleasure for a good while in the days ahead. Well, don’t show me up, you always move back against me when I take you. Halsin deserves your best as well. How else am I to boast about you otherwise?”
Meeting Halsin’s thrusts drove him so deep that I could barely think any more. The more primal I became, the more he matched it. I had marks from his fingers already embedding into my skin as he held me roughly, using my momentum to fuck me even harder.
“Stop.”
Everything came to a halt and, for one moment, I feared Gale was upset but instead, he told Halsin to switch to the other end of my body and manoeuvred himself in the space to kneel behind me instead. 
“He also never got to feel those soft lips around him,” my wizard encouraged me to take Halsin’s cock into my mouth. “So let’s rectify that.”
I found myself impaled at both ends, utterly full, unable to form a coherent thought. I’d never expected Gale to join in and, even having my mouth stuffed as it was, the wanton moan was definitely heard by someone outside.
There was the scuff of boots that suddenly stopped but I didn’t care. I didn’t care anymore. Let the whole camp hear. I was having far too much fun. 
“Watch this,” Gale did something I couldn’t see and then there were sparks that went straight into the most sensitive part of me, little shocks that had me clenching around him and groaning obscenities. 
Halsin laughed, “I never would’ve thought of that. How curious. Oh…by the Oak Father, do that again.”
I was pretty sure Gale was using some form of lightning magic but incredibly muted. It almost had me falling to the ground but the two men kept me propped up.
“May I?” Halsin’s voice was getting ragged, cupping my face and appreciating the view. “I’m not sure I can hold back much longer.”
Just as I was tipping over into secondary bliss, I felt Gale lean forward over me, dragging the druid closer. From the noises, I think they were kissing but I was far too occupied with the sensations of complete ecstasy and the warmth suddenly flooding my mouth as Halsin’s cock twitched in release. The more I swallowed and sucked, the more viscerally his body jerked.
Gale was not far behind, hips stuttering, rhythm becoming desperate until he made a lewd groan that was echoed by a small cough outside. Whoever it was I think was right on the other side of the fabric.
I was pulled upright, Gale still buried deep in me as arm encircled my shaking form.
“Had enough or do you need more?” He asked jovially.
“Gods, no more! No more. I can’t handle it,” I panted. 
“She is finally sated then,” Halsin laughed, leaning back and stretching languidly, muscles rippling in the dim light. “You’ve tamed your little wildcat for now.”
“Yes, it appears that way,” Gale pressed dozens of light and loving kisses against my face. “Thank you, Halsin. I understand a lot more about myself now and I am grateful you allowed me to take it slowly with you.”
“Like I say, discuss amongst yourselves. I am happy to enter a casual arrangement when the mood strikes but as long as you have made rules for there to be no arguments or strife. I’ll leave you for the evening. That is not to say I would not relish gentler affections with you both but this is a new beginning for all and you need time alone first.”
He put his clothes back on before disappearing out of the tent and Gale withdrew from me, pulling me down into his bedroll where I wrapped myself around him. 
“Are you alright?” I studied his face. “If you did not enjoy that, say something now.”
“Oh, I quite enjoyed it,” he seemed relaxed. “A chance to showcase my magic during sex? I was in my element.”
“Of course,” I playfully rolled my eyes and he laughed. 
“But on a more serious note, I appear to relish watching your reactions and I appear to especially delight in telling you what to do, telling someone else what to do to you or me.”
“Considering she-who-doesn’t-deserve-to-be-invoked, I’m not surprised you enjoy taking back control when she never gave you much agency to begin with.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Gale genuinely pondered that. “With you I think…I think I’m discovering who Gale Dekarios really is for the first time.”
“Someone I love dearly.”
I hadn’t quite meant to say it like this, not after what we’d just gotten up to, but it spilled out. I’d told Gale before I cared deeply about him, that he had my heart but ‘love’ as a word had not passed my lips yet. He knew I did love him but hearing me say it aloud had a profound effect.
“Thank you,” his eyes were misty, crinkled with pure warmth. “I know you are unconventional, modern and how hard it is for you to open your soul to someone, so I thank you that I am the person you chose. I love you so completely that it hurts me sometimes.”
“And you are traditional, old-fashioned and wear your emotions on your sleeve. I did not think I’d ever want to fight a goddess for a person like that, let alone start thinking of a future together.”
“You’re truly thinking of a future with me?” He squeezed me tightly.
“If you’ll have me?”
“You don’t even need to ask that question.”
We kissed, we spoke about nothing and everything, we made boundaries to take to Halsin in the morning and fell asleep in each other’s arms. By the time I woke up, Gale was still asleep, no care to the fact he was still stark naked.
Usually he’d sleep in linen trousers, afraid Tara might pop in but perhaps last night had finally given him some confidence.
I snuck out of the tent to fetch some water, the dawning sun still struggling over the horizon line and was dismayed to find both Astarion and Lae’zel standing by the campfire gossiping between themselves.
“Oh, there she is,” Astarion perked up, grinning slyly. “Darling, you didn’t tell me you were that depraved. I would’ve hit on you much earlier if I’d known.”
“I’m not speaking about it,” I filled my canteen.
“Are you not? Well, to be fair, your moans and cries did all the speaking for you. Your silhouettes in the tent were also on perfect display.”
“It was a most pleasing spectacle,” Lae’zel nodded matter of factly. “I will call on Gale for his magic-enhanced sex when I am of need.”
“No, you will not,” I took a sip to unstick my dry mouth. “You leave him be.”
“Tchk! Fine, then I will call on you. You can take much punishment and continue on. That is appealing to me. You are a strong bed partner. I like the ones that do not break.”
She didn’t give me a chance to reply, going off to sharpen her blades. Astarion, meanwhile, was giggling at my flummoxed face.
“We might’ve also heard what happened in Sharess’ Caress,” he drank some wine. “Word gets around. If you’re going to be openly insatiable, darling, people will be naturally curious about you. Since you’ve convinced Gale to be less boring, they’ll be curious about him too. Even I’m wondering what the wizard did to you that made you scream so much.”
“Then keep wondering,” Gale came up behind me, kissing my cheek softly. “Wonder in your bed alone at night. I know that’s what you did after you eavesdropped right outside. I’m sure we’ll make more material for your fantasies further down the line.”
Astarion blustered, unsure what to say for a moment. Gale had his fair share of snappy retorts but never something this bold.
“Good morning, my love,” he ignored the gobsmacked elf to rub his nose briefly against mine. “I’ll go talk to Halsin, if you don’t mind. Get things rolling. You wouldn’t do me a favour, would you? Tara’s turned up and one of her feathers is bent awkwardly. Could you help her? Your knowledge is much better than mine on that.”
“Of course,” I kissed him. “Save me some food if you both get started on breakfast. You know I look forward to your meals.”
“Oh, I know you do,” he winked, tapped me lightly on the rear and headed off to Halsin’s tent.
“I’m sorry, has Orin stolen Gale?!” Astarion was agog. “That can’t be him! He’s positively interesting now!”
“What do they say? ‘The love of a good woman’?” I shrugged and left him to his disbelief.
Tara was waiting on her pillow when I got back, a little ways inside as she tried to groom the feather back into place.
“Here, let me help you,” I used some of my ranger magic to straighten it back out.
“Very much appreciated,” she nodded, blinking lazily as she relaxed. “Could do with having you back home. The winds pick up something awful around Waterdeep at times.”
“Well, maybe I will go home with you both once this is all done,” I fetched Gale’s brush for her, working out the knots in her fur.
“I think Mr Dekarios would like that very much. He’s rather fond of you.”
“I’m rather fond of him,” I glanced at Gale and Halsin talking together and laughing jovially across the camp. 
“He needs a good influence in his life,” the thinly veiled comment about Mystra was obvious. “But I think, given his demeanour this morning, he may just have one now.”
She turned her head and put a paw on my hand to draw my focus, “Just be careful with him.”
“I intend to be.”
“Good, or I’ll leave mice in all of your clothes. Maybe a frog or three.”
“Consider me warned,” I laughed as I got back to brushing. 
But I knew Tara’s approval meant everything to Gale and, when I caught him beaming at my interactions with his tressym, I knew he was the happiest he’d been in a long time.
The world might be ending, things may have seemed bleak but I had a spark of hope that I could have a wonderful future with this wizard who made me feel emotions I’d long since buried, who deigned to understand me rather than change me, who was trying to grow with me rather than against me as our journey continued. 
I really hoped we survived the battle to come.
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New Dimension, Who's This?
honestly writing this cuz I saw @gin2212 's comment and made me teary, so were gunna finish this bad boy! not today but you know... it will happen
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, part 5, part 6
Explicit mentions of death (but of characters that are currently living) Kind of OG version of their deaths
Danny had only walked through the Wayne’s home adjacent gardens once, in a direct route to the barn. Batcow was a highlight of that little excersion.
Now, however, they were actually looking at the shrubbery shaped like boring spheres and rectangles.
He felt Jason become distant and floated back a bit, he’d turned left into a very small opening.
Inside were three unmovable cement benches that curved slightly into one circle. The well cut bushes were wilder in here, making it cramped and impossible to see over the hedge.
“This spot used to be my favorite, when the weather was nice. I’d come out here with a book and whatever drink Alfred had decided to make that day.” Jason looked down at a square of cement in the middle, probably where a table had been. The indents on the side of the seats, likely from the mold it was made from, had moss growing in it.
“This seems like the perfect hideout.” Danny smiled and sat on the bench opposite Jason.
Jason hummed in agreement, he coughed awkwardly even for Danny’s standards and spoke up again. “So, you’re the god of death?” Jason was probably really good at looking casual and intimidating to most people, but Danny could sense the tension emanating from his core as he sat near a branch mere inches from his face with his hands in his pockets, probably wishing he could lean against something to look nonchalant.
“Nope, I’m the king of the dead. They aren’t the same thing.”
“So, you’re not Hades?”
“I hope not, I’ve met him and he’s kind of a dick.”
Jason laughed softly, he liked how it sounded “Okay, cool, so the Greek gods exist.”
“All of the gods do, technically.” He waited for Jason to look at him. “I know it’s hard to wrap your head around, but the infinite realms isn’t really a dimension on its own. It’s the space between all dimensions. When you die you have to pass through it to get to your destination. Some people don’t have a place and they end up part of my realm, some get lost, some sell their soul, others forget their lives entirely and are part of my people from the second they pass over. Then there are the never-borns: souls that form from pure will of the infinite realms. All that is part of my domain.” Danny floated up a bit to try and catch a glimpse of the stars, the smog from Gotham blocking everything. He looked back at Jason and his stomach did a little flip that he decidedly did nothing about. “But just so were clear; hell, the underworld, and all those other things are in the infinite zone. They aren’t all the same thing.”
“Okay. So, you rule over those too?”
“Again no, once a soul gets into the correct dimension, I don’t really have anything to do with it.”
“Wait so if someone who believes in an afterlife sells their soul what happens?”
Danny slouched in the air and grunts, “That’s where all the fucking paperwork comes in. I really want you to imagine the most bureaucratic way to possibly move to a new country, but you have none of your documents. Being stuck in this dimension was a fun break at first, but now all I can think of are the stacks of A-13 forms that are probably covering the castle floors.”
Jason shifted and with it came a wave of uncertainty. “If someone was killed and brought back, what then?”
Danny has seen how ghosts in the zone get when they talk about their deaths. For many it’s all they remember of their life. If a ghost with years to think it through reacts explosively he’s not sure how it will go with a newbie. “Well, a few things. The soul could come back to a place without a body in which case you have a true haunting. If the death was quick, it could have flash formed a core, that’s like a soul that has died fully, and then shoved back into the living body. That’s how you get halfas like me.”
Jason still looked cool and collected on the outside but there was unbelievable turmoil seeping out of him. “What if the body was dead for a while? What if a soul or core was shoved back into a body on purpose?”
“I’ve only seen one revival before, but there was a lot of time warping there. The necromancers I’ve met who were trying to bring someone back didn’t have access to ectoplasm which had results that are very different to… having it.” Danny breathed out to calm himself, letting that calm wave wash over Jason as well. “Sorry.”
“No, it’s alright.” Jason shuffled his leather jacket, “You call it ectoplasm.”
“Yeah.” Danny answered with a lilt in his voice.
“The green goop filled pools you said you emptied, you mentioned they were corrupted.”
“I did yeah.”
“What would happen if someone was exposed to that?”
“Honestly, it’s not the first time I’ve come across it but never that much. For ghosts it can leave them sick and weak for days. Not like polluted water, more like if you switched out the water a healthy person drank for soda exclusively. It won’t kill them, but it will have a negative effect.” Danny thought for a second and remembered the one-time Sam got covered in a mix of good and contaminated ecto during a fight with Undergrowth. “I saw how a diluted version of it affected a living person, her mind was warped and she had the same sort of tunnel vision a ghost has if they have a particularly strong obsession.”
Jason took a breath, he’d been going strong so far. Danny may come to regret this, but he put a hand on his shoulder and floated where they’d be face to face, letting his bottom half fade away into the ghostly tail. “I won’t do it if you don’t want me to, but I can subdue your emotions a bit if you want to talk about it.” Jason looked up quickly and Danny scrambled to correct himself. “I haven’t been doing that! Well, like not in a controlling way, more like the ghost version of calming down a friend who’s freaking out. If you pushed past it I wouldn’t hold you back.”
“You should.” Danny couldn’t help the questioning noise that came out of him, “The first year I came back, I don’t remember it well, but I tried to kill Tim… and possibly Damian. If I do go too far hold me back.”
Danny nodded, “Back in the hall, when Tim was taking an unorthodox amount of coffee cups out of his room,” Jason snorted a bit and smiled, “you didn’t fight me stopping your emotions from bubbling over. I think, with even a little help, you do in fact make the right decisions.”
Jason’s hand came up to hold on to Danny’s forearm, “I went out to stop the top villain at the time, the Joker. I really did think I could beat him so I turned off my coms. He… He beat me to an inch of my life and left me to die in the explosion he’d rigged up.” Jason’s body was hot to the touch and he was obviously timing his breaths. “I can still feel the damn crowbar he used whenever I fall asleep. Batman had never been late before; he’d never let something like that go past him. My plan B was him, and he didn’t make it.”
Danny hummed. A benefit of their shared ghostliness in needing not to use his words, he pushed through waves of camaraderie and understanding.
“I had dug myself out of my own grave. I don’t remember much other than pain for months. Then Talia, Damian’s genetic mother, threw me into a Lazarus pit. The first thing I remember seeing was looking up at her terrified face, tinted in green.”
There was anger as he spoke her name, Danny controlled the waves of corrupted ecto that were threating to turn those emotions against Jason’s true wishes.
“I was fifteen, how does someone let a child do that. I was a kid!” Jason’s emotions were switching around and Danny could hear the forming core start too fuss. “I was just a kid.”
Danny came closer and wrapped all four of his arms around Jason, squeezing him just enough to feel a weight on him, but not so much it was restrictive.
Jason still seemed tense so, Danny did the only thing he could think of, he talked of his own death.
“My parents built the first ever physical portal to the realms. I was messing around with friends and they dared me to walk into the useless frame. My parents always had a tendency of forgetting lab safety and making just one mistake in every build. I’m not sure how they managed to put the on button inside it, but I tripped, hitting it on my way down. I could feel every bolt of electricity ripping me apart as the link between worlds opened directly on top of me. I died separate to my body and ended up like this.” Danny moved back and looked down at himself without letting go of Jason. “I tried to tell my parents at first, but they were always busy.
They spent the day I finally gave up trying to trap my sister; thinking she was the ghost their devices we’re picking up.”
Jason rested his forehead on Danny’s, sighing against the cold touch. “How old we-“
“Fourteen.”
“We were kids.”
“Yeah,” Danny kept his forehead against Jason’s. Two arms he left at Jason’s shoulders, the other two caressing his arms.
With a wave of confidence and fear Jason grabbed Danny by the waist and pulled him in for a real hug.
They held each other there, hidden amongst the foliage, until it started to drizzle.
“We should-“
Danny cut him off, pulling back to show the tears running down his face. “Can we go to your room?”
“Yeah, come on.”
They didn’t touch on the walk through the garden, or at the entrance, or in the hall. No, it wasn’t until the door was closed behind them that Danny came forward and just barely touched his arm.
Jason grabs him and pulls him in again, this time resting his chin on the top of Danny’s head. The attempt to calm Danny down just as he had for Jason made him start to cry again, this time much happier.
The surge pushed his kingly nature to shift into something more human. His arms went back to only two, his skin became that of a pale human’s (for the most part), his ears shrank down and his pointy teeth rounded out. And, surprisingly, his form gave him pajamas.
The ecto the change required didn’t accept the contaminated ecto that Jason had sent and Danny sagged into Jason, his knees buckling.
“Hey, hey.” Jason hushed, “I’ve got you.”
He sat Danny on the bed and went to get pajamas for himself. Once changed he laid down beside Danny and curled around him.
Danny was laying on his back, his legs bent over Jason’s thighs, who was laying on his side up against Danny. Creating a cocoon to hold Danny in.
They fell asleep quickly, Danny held Jason's hand on his chest throughout the rest of the night.
Neither of them had nightmares.
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4
@bjurnberg, @skulld3mort-1fan, @akikkobara @undead-bi-dinosaur, @amyheart19, @phoenixdemonqueen, @not-your-average-url, @seraphinedemort, @theywontletmeusetheoneiwant,  @satisfactionbroughtmeback, @kyrianclawraith, @i-always-say-yea, @gin2212
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theholypeanut · 8 months
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Sparks Fly
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Content: Bachira Meguru x you; fluff fluff fluff someone stop me, sprinkle of angst, teasing bc this is Bachira, gn!reader, friends to lovers?, 900 words // I do not own Bachira (unfortunately)
I believe falling for Bachira was not an easy and fast thing to do. You probably very fast grow fond of him as a friend, someone to look out for, stand up for, as he was constantly bullied. He seem so childish, so simple, so adorable, how could you just not want to protect him?
Bachira falls first and falls fast - calling you cute names, clinging to you, constantly hugging and touching. You don’t mind that, however it looked like Bachira’s love for you is just so pure and childlike, you cannot even take him seriously. You are his protector, his dear friend, his “angel”.
I believe falling for Bachira happened quite unexpected, just by some accident. You briefly joked how you never kissed anyone and how you don’t want to die a virgin, because that seem pathetic. “I can kiss you if you want” you hear his nonchalant voice. “Bachira, but have you kissed anyone before? Isn’t it weird to have your first kiss with someone you don’t even like?”
“But I will have my first kiss with someone i like, so what’s the problem?” Bachira smiled like always - with this look that could light up the room. There was no point in continuing this conversation - you knew very well he is a very spontaneous person and if you say the word, he’d kiss you here and now in a second, not thinking about feelings, friendship, or what could this mean in the future. Things you probably thought way too much about.
But it made you think. Is it such a bad idea? At least having your first kiss with a friend seem like a way better scenario than being hit by a car tomorrow and never even experienced it. Or if not that, having a disappointing experience with a crush… at least you’d have some experience. You pinched your cheek.
No. It’s Bachira. You cannot just use him like that, he is a person with feelings, and if you kiss, it will forever change your relationship. He might not care, but you do.
You noticed that you look at him a lot when he practice. Cannot stop thinking about his lips when he is telling you a story. You feel ridiculous how you catch yourself blushing whenever he calls your name. No. This is getting out of hand.
“Have you fallen for me yet?” - you heard his cheeky voice right next to your ear. It was a warm day and you decided to eat some lunch alone in quiet spot with no soul in sight, when unfortunately he found you. You felt how your ears get hot.
“I don’t know what you are talking about.” You took another bite of your sandwich and refused to look at him. He sat next to you, way too close for your comfort.
“I think you do” - you felt his hand wrapping around your waist. “You really cannot stop looking at my lips, can you?”
It pissed you off how much he enjoyed this situation. Just a week ago you’d just brush him off and wouldn’t give it a second thought, as he touched you on a daily basis, but today, you were way too aware of his hand placement. Before you get the chance to answer, you felt his finger on your lips. “What are yo-“
“You had some food on your face” - he said while getting dangerously close to you. “You are so cute when you are blushing.”
As expected, this had exactly the effect Bachira wanted - you turned into a human tomato. Some part of you really wanted to just stand up and leave without saying another word, to not feed up to his delusion. But the problem was, it was not a delusion. For the first time, he might actually be right.
“So what if I have?” You said, looking him in the eyes for the first time during this encounter. Instead of his usual smile that could bright up the room, you can see a smug on his face.
“Good” he lowered his voice without stopping an eye contact. He put his hand on your chin and without any additional words pressed his lips on yours.
Bachira’s lips were soft and way better than you imagined. He smelled like shampoo with a hint of something sweet. Without thinking you put your hand on the back of his neck and brushed his hair with your fingers. You could feel your heart beating alarmingly fast, when he pulled you closer by the waist. Then taking you by surprise, you felt his tongue making way into your mouth and your mind went completely blank. Before you could even react, the bell ending the lunch break cuts in through the silence.
You pulled away but it took all the mental strength you had. You know Bachira would gladly skip the rest of the school if that means you two can just make out instead. “We should go” you said very quietly, trying to collect yourself. Bachira pouted disappointed. You saw that even he was blushing and his eyes were sparkling more than usual. He looked so cute in this moment your heart skipped the beat.
You leaned closer to his ear. “Let’s continue after school” your face felt hot when you stand up and started picking up your stuff to go. You could see with the corner of your eye how excited he was to hear it.
Falling for Bachira was not fast, but one kiss was definitely enough for you to fall hard.
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By slowlyholypeanut please don’t steal, give credit, and so on
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141trash · 2 months
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AN: so I know its not exactly simon x reader its all platonic, but I wasn't sure how else to tag this. Actually if you squint it could be Ghost x Soap I'll let you decide :) Sometimes my brain says things should exist so I write them. Loosely borrows the Master of Death concept from the HP series because yes. She's my OC if you want to know more just let me know I mostly just wanted to practice writing Simon idk and wanted him to be comforted :(
"Let's say I believed you," the exhausted lieutenant's voice broke the quiet hiss of sand shifting in the warm breeze. He laid staring up at the cloudless blue sky, knife held limply in one hand. His balaclava was torn off and cast aside, leaving his face exposed to the unrelenting sun.
"Mhm?" Came the sweet voice, acknowledging his words and probing gently for him to continue.
"If I believe you're the master of death or whatever," he croaked out, throat parched, "Why me? Why save me? There're billions of people who deserve to be saved over me."
Her head cocked to the side, observing him for a moment.
"Why do you believe you're not worth saving?" she asked instead of answering. Simon let out a harsh laugh interrupted by a bout of coughing and a resigned grunt of pain.
"y'just need to look at me to know that love. My mask. I'm a killer. Got my family killed. My mum, my brother." he swallowed, voice cracking as he continued, "His beautiful wife, and their little boy."
He gulped feeling the hot sting of tears and used some of his waning strength to swipe them angrily away. When she didn't say anything he turned his head in her direction. It was hard to believe that he wasn't hallucinating. Sitting next to him in the middle of the desert was a six year old in a pink tutu and a burnt tiara of some sort, perched in her golden curls. Small hands drew shapes and patterns in the scorching sand as if the temperature didn't affect her. Big innocent green eyes bore into him in a way that very much felt like she was staring into his soul.
"The skull mask was an interesting choice," She agreed dryly, "I won't disagree that you're a killer either, given your chosen profession. But you didn't get your family killed. The actions of others are not yours to take the blame for."
"Y'r surprisingly wise for a kid."
The master of death rolled her eyes and smiled, revealing a set of pearly white teeth, "Today I'm a kid."
"Sure. like tomorrow you're not goin' to be."
She gave a shrug of her shoulders, "Maybe, maybe not. It's not exactly my choice."
"Y'didn't answer my question." he coughed again, "If you're the master of death. Why me?"
"I don't make those decisions. I think death would be rather cross with me if that was the case. Everything dies at some point. It's part of the cycle. But death says I'm still ruled by my human emotions. If I had the choice, I don't think I would let people die. And then there really would be no point to life."
He laughed again and then groaned, the side where he'd been shot throbbed horribly.
"You sure you ain't just here to kill me?" Simon wheezed out, hands tightening into fists, "Because it sure feels like it."
Tenderly she reached out and smoothed one of his hands, grasping at it with her much smaller one.
"Of course not Simon." she clucked her tongue as if to scold him, "Pain means you're alive. Keep living. Find your reason to keep living. It's important. You're important."
His vision was darkening with each passing second and her voice was growing murky, like he was hearing it underwater. Gasping in panic he forced his eyes open.
"It hurts," it came out as a whimper. She smiled sadly at him, bright green eyes wet with sympathy.
"I know sweetheart, but it won't be forever."
Then she was gone. The small, but reassuring grip she'd had on his hand disappeared and the panic fully settled in. He tried to call out to her. He didn't want to be alone again. Anything, but having to face the world alone again. He wanted to beg and plead for her to return, but his mouth refused to listen.
Rough hands grabbed hold of him, jerking him back to consciousness. When he managed to get his eyes open again he saw a familiar tanned, if a little blurry, face staring back at him with worry in his eyes. Johnny. Johnny was there.
He saw the sergeant's mouth moving, but he couldn't hear. All of his senses were on fire, everything was too loud, to rough, too painful. No part of him didn't hurt.
He was alive and Johnny was here. Weakly he lifted a hand to grasp the shoulder of the Scottish man's vest.
"You're here." was all he managed to gasp weakly attempting to smile before his mind gave out and he fell into darkness. This time he gave in willingly. He wasn't alone anymore.
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haikyuubby · 9 months
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i'd like die if you wrote about death the kid with a gn or male reader who loves to draw and paint. and maybe kid says somthing flirty like "i bet you could draw me" and the male reader is like "is that in request to make you my muse?" or somthing. like cheesy y'know
(im also jumping off of walls bc someone writes for soul eater😭)
artist ; death the kid x reader
❀ - gender neutral reader
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it was just another day at the dwma. class was feeling extremely boring today, so you decided to draw to help pass the time.
you ripped out a piece of paper from ur notebook and got a pencil out. you started just doodling random things on your paper.
beside you, was death the kid, or kid, as most called him.
he was paying attention to the lesson being taught until your drawing caught his eye.
during class, he was observing the many doodles on ur paper. i guess you could say that you’ve peaked his interest.
you felt his gaze from beside you, so naturally you’d ask him if he’s interested in your drawings.
“Kid, do you think my drawings are good?” you ask while showing him your paper.
“Oh. Most of these drawings are extremely asymmetrical, but they’re not bad.” he replies.
you start sketching out a circle, waiting to turn it into a face.
you ended up drawing a girl on ur paper, her portions being damn near perfect.
kid took notice of this and complimented how symmetrical the girl on your paper looked.
“Y/n, let’s put your drawing skills to the test and see if you can draw me. As symmetrical as possible of course.” kid says while resting his face on his hand.
“Yeah, sure.” you respond and start to get to work.
about 15 minutes later you put ur paper in front of his face, showing him the drawing of himself.
a faint blush spreads across his face, not going unnoticed by you.
“What’s the matter, kid? Not symmetrical enough?” you tease.
“T-that’s not it. It’s really good, y/n.” he says while looking away.
who knew he got flustered so easily?
he took the paper with the drawing of him on it and he carefully folded it up and put it into his bag.
shortly after, class ended and you two parted ways.
later that day, you overheard liz and patty talking about how kid is trying to find the perfect place in his room to hang up your drawing of him, but he’s struggling because of his obsession with symmetry.
you smile, knowing that he’s cherishing the drawing that you drew of him.
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black-dhalias · 1 year
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I’d Burn it all For You
Namor X F!Reader
Warning: SPOILERS FOR BLACK PANTHER 2, Angst, death, child loss, mentions of loss and grief, blood.
!!SPOILERS!!
!!SPOILERS!!
¡FINAL SPOILER WARNING!
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A spray of mist and fury burn your cheeks as the waves crest onto the beach. Your toes touching the water in the briefest of ways, body stolen by the drowning grief. The loss of your only family has taken you completely.
“My love?” His voice used to bring you great comfort, but now it is only a reminder of what he knowingly sacrificed. Only to bend the knee to the Wakandans. “You must come home to Talocan, you must find it in yourself to rest.” In our bed, the thought is painful and rigid—your life is grossly intertwined with him. All of him.
“K’uk’ulkan, do not speak as if you did not let my brother and sister die…” An unearthly rage has mounted in your chest at the very image of their bodies amongst the fallen, the emptiness of their eyes. “Do not pretend that our daughter… Our child, was not amongst the casualties.” Your chest heaves, a deep aggressively broken part of you has completely snapped in two.
You note the way that his hands twitch, but he does not touch you—and even if he had, you fear you would snap his wrist. He seems to be reaching out for you
You find it in yourself to meet his eye, and for the first time, he does not recognize you. Your gaze is harsh, hardened with grief—you mirror his own, but you have someone to blame. Someone to pass the hate onto. Him.
The way your fingers ghost over his cheek, he leans into the touch—knowing it was probably the last time. If you ever found it in yourself to forgive him, he doubts anything would be the same.
“K’uk’ulkan… You have never been Namor to me, always my greatest love. My truest friend and trusted ally. I followed you. Believed in you. Trusted you to protect my family, our child, me… Until today, you were never not loved. Today, you earned the name Namor.” Your hand drops off his cheek and instantly, he wishes it would return. Wishes he could wipe away every incursion, for no one knew him the way that you did. Understood his values and believed in the cause. “And I hope that name chokes the very soul from your body, a chain to drag you to the pits of the Mariana Trench.”
You turn to the ocean, the taste of salt, tears pouring down your cheeks. You had not cried like this before now, felt the pain until it was certain. Mourn your losses, that’s what he said to the Wakandan Princess—had he forgotten so quickly the losses incurred on them, how they stole his only daughter and child.
“Adora… That is what we named our daughter, carry her name on that same chain. Let it be the anchor… I wish grief would drown you, consume you, as it has me.” You gasp, choking on air and wishing it would silence you completely. “Don’t forget to mourn her.” Her sweet face echoes in the shadows, you see her smile and doe eyes—the brightness she echoes reminiscent of the sun itself.
“I do… I feel your pain, your same pain.” To lose a child is unlike any ache, it hollows out your chest and turns the bitter edge of sword onto your neck. Makes you wish that it would all end, knowing that it won’t. If you did know him, you’d believe him.
“If you felt anything, you would have burned them all. I’d burn them all for her. I’d burn them all for you. Now I will do nothing, just as you did nothing.”
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K’uk’ulkan watches you from afar, the sweetest of smiles intoxicates and enchants—you were perfect. You did not plead or beg, but you asked and bartered. You were kind before you were angry, and warm before you were cold.
Genuine love came from every moment spent together, the people sang the song of your story. How you were born months after K’uk’ulkan—the gentle wave to match his storm. You were not weak by any means, but you chose to wear your heart proudly.
He remembered it all so clearly, beautiful and loyal, with eyes that read him. Knew him. He never felt more seen than when he was in your gaze.
It moves quickly now—to dance with you after becoming husband and wife. To hold you, as your carried their child. Their first. After a century of love and dedication to the people of Talocan, a royal child was to be born. He sees your smile, a warmth and light that is reminiscent of the sun itself.
When the sky turned dark, the sun no longer burning your skin—you find it in yourself to rise to your feet. To watch as the waves turn black under the nighttime moon.
“I love you, K’uk’ulkan. I swear I do, but loving you is not enough anymore.” You swallow, the anger has drifted out to sea and in its place is only sadness. Anguish. “If I had my way, I’d drown before I reach Talocan—but the sea refuses to consume me as I wish.”
Before long, you are gone from his view. Leaving him alone on that beach. Completely, and overwhelmingly consumed by his own grief. Aware of every sensation and whim, and the urge to burn the world echoes once more.
You were right. He did not want you to be right, but you were.
“Wait—” His voice is more hoarse than he expected, weathered and aged in the last week more than before. The weight of his people on one shoulder, a burden of duty — while the weight of his family grows heavier by the second. His duty to them. To his wife. You stop, looking back at him briefly—if it were anyone else, you wouldn’t have looked at all. “I love you. Please believe that much.”
“Love is not enough, Namor.” That name never sounded so foreign, but so true—it never hurt or bothered him, except when it came to you.
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AN: I promise I have a happy Namor fic in the works (and like two or three more after that), but this one was just in my head. Ya know when you can’t write anything except a singular piece, that was this. However, now I feel as though I have satisfied the itch and am ready to finish everything else.
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disappointing-my-kid · 11 months
Text
Luigi is pretending to be Peach when he gets kidnapped but Bowser knew instantly.
It was one of his kids who did the kidnapping this time. To show their papa how strong and brave they are so something.
Bowser doesnt even need to look Luigi in the eyes to know this isnt Peach. She never shows such fear when being kidnapped. He can easily see whoever this is fidgeting and shakin in their boots (or heels) but hes a good father. And the look on his kids face. How could he ruin this. So he plays along.
A booming laugh shakes Luigi to his core as he slowly looks up to meet Bowsers gaze. He feels like those fiery red eyes are looking into his soul. Suddenly the mask on his face feel straggling. Then Bowsers gaze finally leaves him and goes to the Koopaling that captured him and softens. “Fantastic work! Now tell me who helped you in such a feat!” The child bounced up and down on the spot “No one Papa! I did it all by myself!” Luigi had never seen Bowser this way before. Sure he knew he had kids but he never imagined him actually being a good father. The way Bowsers fave shifted into the facade of shock. “Surely not just you! No no someone must have helped you. Why something of this caliber? You must have taken the whole army!” At that the child giggled as Bowser made a show of looking around. “No papa it was just me! No help at all!!… well grandad did show me a map to the mushroom kingdom.” The child was nervously fiddling with claws at the mention of help. Bowser now put on a display of wonder. “Really? Thats all the help you got?” Then he boomed “Wonderful my child! Fantastic work!” His child giggling as Bowser lifted them up into the air a few times, Bowser laughing along with them.
Completely stunned by this, Luigi just stood there unsure of what to do. Did Bowser forget he was here? Who knew the man or well koopa had such a soft side, he was wonderful with his kid. Maybe he could escape while they both are distracted. He felt bad for the lil one seeing how happy they had been about capturing him. Which is why Luigi was so easy to capture in the first place, having a soft spot for kids himself. But he couldnt let Bowser figure him out. Tho the moment he shifted to move Bowser instantly looked at him, causing him to tense up. His Anxiety getting the better of him and he just gave a sheepish awkward wave. Hes so going to die here. The look Bowser was giving him, if looks could kill. Yup this is it. The moment hes found out hes done for. Bowser turned back to his child and in a more serious tone “Now i have some things i need to discuss with the Princess.” The way he said it made the hair in Luigis neck stand up. Peach had said Bowser never hurt her but boy was he terrifying. “So why dont you l” but before he could finish what he was saying the child interrupted him with a whine “but daadd i wanna play with the Princess!” Giving him father the best puppy dog eyes he could muster. Which in Luigis opinion was pretty darn good. He could clearly see Bowsers internal struggle. Something else won out though when Bowser glanced back in Luigis direction. “Im sorry but this is rather important. Why dont you head down to the kitchens and pick tonights dinner.” At this the child quickly jumped up “Can I pick dessert too!!” Bowser chuckled at his childs excitement and nodded “yes yes dessert too.” And just like that the kid was off. Rushing past Luigi without even glancing at him.
When the door closed instantly the mood shifted into something heavy. Every part of Luigis being told him to run. Slowly he turned back to look at Bowser. All softness gone from his face. His eyes narrowed as to get a better look at this “Princess” and then he stood. “So Princess” he began has he walked from his throne towards Luigi. “How are you doing today?” Though the words themselves had been pleasant they had been spoken with such sarcasm that Luigi knew he knew. Frozen in fear as his mind raced on what to do. He should say something. But how. What to say to not get burnt to a crisp. “I asked you a question Princess” Bowser was now right in front of Luigi, who looked up with horror at the anger on Bowser face. “Im waiting” well its now or never. Taking in a deep breath and mustering up all the courage he had “Im” was all he got out before a punch right in the gut cut him off and lifting him off the floor slightly. He gasped as all the air was knocked out of him. Bowser then let him crumple to the floor. Doubled over Luigi clutched his stomach.
Bowser demanded “Get up.” But when Luigi made no move to stand Bowser growled out “Get… Up” slowly Luigi placed one arm out and pushed himself up. He staggered for a moment but once he got his balance he slowly looked up to Bowsers face. All color draining as his eyes met with the Koopas. Pure rage is all Luigi could find. “Im still waiting on you to answer my question.” Bowsers features smoothed out as Luigi knew this was a trap. He knew he was already stuck in it. He needed to figure a way out of this that didnt end in him dying. “B-Bow” was all he got out before his entire middle wasn yanked up. Arms pinned to his sides as Bowsers grip held him firmly. Then the pressure increased. Luigi gasping at the pain from his earlier blow. Bowsers voice dripped with venom as he spoke “Did you really think you could fool me? With this pathetic displace?” He gestured to Luigis entire form. “Do you take me for a fool?” He spat. Luigi quickly shaking his head as he wriggled in Bowsers grasp. Bowser who at the display only tightened his grip a bit more. Luigi letting out a pathetic squeak as air became hard to get. At the sound Bowser scoffed “lets see who you really are.” Unable to move at all Bowser ruffly ripped off Luigis mask, scratching his cheek deeply as he did so. Then everything froze. Luigi had his eyes screwed shut waiting for the final blow to come. Bowsers gripped loosed as he just stared. This caused Luigi to slowly peak his eyes open. The moment he looks at the kings face he saw the shock. Then it transformed into anger. Instantly Bowser grip came back in full force as he yelled “YOU!!!” Luigi winced not just from the yelling but at the pain in his abdomen. Hes not sure his body can handle much more of this. He had do something and quickly if he didnt wanna be crushed to death. “B-b-bowser.” He stammered out, no longer sure if it was his nerves or the pain causing it this time. Of course speaking just caused Bowser to tighten his grip. Oh he cant handle any more of this. “P-please I-I” he started to beg but he was cut off as Bowser once again yelled “HOW DARE YOU AND YOUR BROTHER TRY TO FOOL ME!” Raging. “I- I ca-cant please” Luigi struggling but his vision is started to go black. This is it. This is how he dies. Everything gone all because he wanted to dress up.
A sickening crack resounded and everything went black for the plumber as he passed out from the pain and lack of air. The sound caused Bowser to freeze once again. Looked at the unconscious form, unmoving body in his grasp. Blood at the corners of the mans mouth and running down his cheek. Eyes widening with realisation he quickly opened his hand as if Luigis body was burning him. What had he done. Sure he was angry but he never wanted to. He didnt mean to. Realisation hit him as hard as Luigis unconscious form his the floor. No no no no, he panicked. Hands shaking Bowser slowly reached for Luigis body. Gently placing one on the mans chest he could ever so slightly feel it rise and fall. Not dead. A wash of relief flooded over him. Then he felt the chest stop. Long moments later it started again. Quickly Bowser called out for Kamek. Just as quickly the old man appeared at his side. “Yea your Majes” his sentence cut off has he gasped upon seeing Luigis body. Kamek was pulled from his shock as Bowser spoke “quickly we have to get him to the infirmary.”
Sorry yall it was supposed to be fluffy. I cant write fluffy very good. The og plan was foe Bowser to end up having a good time playing with his kid and Luigi. But then i just dismissed the kid and it got darker and darker. I wish i wrote it better tho. Its kinda lame i think lol i can do better but jts my first time writing anything mario related. So i dont have a good grasp on the characters. Ill get there. Also couldnt decide which kid i wanted it to be so ill leave that up to yall.
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violetriorsons · 4 months
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—in a world alone (we're all alone);
a collection of missing moments based on xaden's letters to violet. // pre-FW; iron flame spoilers.
part one.
“sgaeyl watched me kill another cadet for bullying garrick during threshing. she says she chose me for my ruthlessness, but i think i just reminded her of my grandfather.” — chapter 12 (iron flame).
.::.
The number one objective: don't die today.
It's proven to be a shockingly easy goal over the last few hours. A quick glance at the sun in the sky tells Xaden it's the start of the afternoon, and the biggest problem he's faced since Threshing started at nine this morning is the uncharacteristically strong heat for the beginning of October.
It's unsettling — he knows damn well that Fen Riorson's son is at the top of the hit lists of a number of cadets in his year (and the other years, for that matter). And he also knows Threshing is the best opportunity any of them are going to get to finally settle any bets.
It's why when his year dispersed this morning, Xaden had made a point to move in the opposite direction than Garrick and Masen. The target on his back is too big today to risk his only friends.
But so far, it seems his worries were for nothing. The few cadets he's come across over the last four or so hours have paid him nothing more than a wary glare, clearly far more interested in finding their dragons than wasting time trying to run a sword through him.
The dragons Xaden has passed by have also ignored him, both to his relief and mild dismay. The jitters in his chest persist, but for new reasons.
For months, the most common and accepted rhetoric he's heard spread throughout the quadrant is that no self-respecting dragon would go through the disgrace of bonding a marked one. That there's nothing worthy in the children of the people who had threatened the safety of human- and dragonkind all over Navarre.
Up until now, Xaden hadn't let himself dwell on the theory. His priority was keeping himself, his friends, and the rest of the marked ones in his year alive (a feat he's already fumbled, twice). But now, walking through the disturbingly quiet forest, there's no escaping the nauseating fear that everyone was right.
If he'd had the choice, Xaden thinks he might've gone into infantry to honor his father's wishes. He hadn't had the time to figure out for himself what he'd wanted to do with his life before fate and the lost Battle of Aretia had written his destiny for him. Before he knew it, the apostasy had come and tragically gone, and he was suddenly saddled with a hundred and seven souls to keep out of Malek's all-too greedy hands.
Three years ago, Xaden had brokered a deal with General Sorrengail to keep the orphans of his father's allies alive. He knows his father would've abhorred the agreement, but the man had also taught him well about making tough decisions. And making it through the riders' quadrant was their only shot at survival.
But now he's dreading that he might've sentenced them all to a worse fate: if the dragons aren't interested in bonding them, they'll all be doomed to relive their first year in the riders' quadrant over and over until Malek finally decides to collect his due.
Xaden hears the crackling of dragonfire in the near distance— too near for his liking. He quickens his steps as he searches around him in vain for any spot of blue.
Unlike Garrick this morning, Xaden did have a certain dragon from Presentation on his mind. An enormous, navy Blue Daggertail that had left him stunned when he saw it near the end of his deadly stroll yesterday.
He'd stopped dead in his tracks when he'd first caught sight of it, and had Garrick not given him a shove from behind, he's sure that he would've ended up a pile of ashes for daring to look a dragon in the eye for as long as he did.
It was an honest mistake. Xaden had felt something shift inside of him when he locked eyes with the beast, a sharp thrill that lingered long after the first-year cadets had all retreated to their bunks for the night.
Though judging by the icy narrowing of the dragon's eyes as it stared back at him, he thinks maybe the feeling was not mutual.
The thought is reinforced by the fact that he hasn't caught a single hint of her presence anywhere this morning. Idly, Xaden wonders if perhaps the Daggertail had picked another cadet at the start of Threshing, and his mood begins to sour.
But before he can linger any longer on his newfound worries, he hears a familiar shout nearby that has his stomach dropping.
It's Garrick.
All thoughts of the Blue Daggertail are forgotten as Xaden races in the direction of the shout.
The number one objective: don't die today. It goes for himself and especially for his best friend.
Xaden may or may not bond a dragon today. But if nothing else, he'll gladly spend the rest of the day making damn sure his friends make it out of this forest alive.
The shouting continues as he approaches, and Xaden recognizes the voice of Garrick's opponent just before they both come into view.
Prince Alic.
Xaden should've seen this one coming. He'd been too concerned about the target on his own back to consider that his friends have also made enemies in the quadrant all on their own.
The limp-dick, sorry excuse of a prince had wasted no time trying to assert dominance in the quadrant after crossing the Parapet this summer. He's been a terror to most, the Riorson son included, but Alic has had it out for Garrick since he lost to him during assessment week on the mat.
And apparently, he's decided Threshing is the perfect setting to enact his revenge.
Garrick's one of the best in their year when it comes to sparring, but the royal training the asswipe of a prince has under his belt makes him more than a worthy adversary. And though Xaden would be willing to bet that Alic snuck up on Garrick, any matters of honor and dirty tactics don't matter much if Alic makes it out of this forest with Garrick's head in the end.
Rage waves over Xaden and he barely manages to wrangle it back under control so he can slow his steps and assess the situation from a distance.
So far, Garrick seems to be holding his own well enough.
Xaden wavers, unsure of whether to step in or let his friend prove himself to any dragon who may be paying attention.
"I'm betting the prince loses his head."
The unfamiliar, feminine voice startles him out of focus from the fight. He hadn't noticed the giant shadow under his feet that now blankets his immediate area, and when he twists around to look for the source of the voice he finds himself face to face with the navy Blue Daggertail he'd been seeking all morning.
"Holy shit," he curses without thinking, and he just barely stops himself from scrambling backward. Dragons typically don't respond well to cowardice, and he doubts this particular one is any exception.
Her size had been daunting during Presentation, but having her right in front of him now, with her head lowered to his eye level and a bit too close for comfort, it dawns on him what a monstrosity of a creature she is — especially compared to the other dragons he's come across in the field today.
Suddenly, Xaden can't remember exactly why he'd been searching for her in the first place. Does he have a death wish?
The dragon's head moves forward, and Xaden locks his knees in place as she gives him a quick sniff at his chest before lightly blowing steam in his face through her nostrils.
"There's something very familiar about you." Her voice echoes in his head again, and his heart is threatening to break through his ribcage as she stays in his personal space and continues her perusal of him.
Xaden arches an eyebrow. Familiar? "Yeah, we kinda met at Presentation..." His joke falls flat, but he pushes forward. "I'm Xaden —" He stops short of saying his last name, and his earlier fear surges back with a vengeance.
Despite all it's cost him, Xaden has never been at odds with the war his father had started. Their country was corrupt, rotten to the core, and the price Xaden has been made to pay for his father's actions has only strengthened his belief in Fen Riorson's cause.
But would the dragon agree with that?
"Riorson," the dragon finishes for him, rather absentmindedly — uninterested, even — as she sniffs at his hair. She says nothing more, all her focus on her odd inspection of him, and some of Xaden's nerves give way to confusion.
Is it a good sign that this dragon is currently covering his leathers in snot?
As if in response, the dragon chuffs. "Better that than being charred by dragonfire, I would think."
Xaden's eyes widen in return. Did she hear his thoughts?
"Very true," he breathes. He tenses again, keeping quiet as he awaits judgment from the dragon he'd spent all night thinking about.
With no warning, the dragon lifts a claw and swipes it over the upper left side of Xaden's face, too quick for him to see it coming. The claw breaks the skin deep over his brow, nicking the eyelid he'd managed to close out of pure instinct, and digging through the top of his cheek.
"Fuck," he swears without thinking, instinctively lifting a hand to his eyebrow. His fingers come back bloody.
"There," the dragon says, sounding satisfied as she lowers her head to his level again. "Now I see it."
"Interesting word choice after almost taking my fucking eye out." He can't help himself from expressing his disdain as he works to keep the blood from seeping into his eye. "What do you see?"
"I'd given your grandfather a similar scar during his Threshing. It'd been accident then."
Surprise quells the anger. His brows knit together, the movement making the sting from his new wound worse. "You knew my grandfather?" He didn't even know his grandfather. From either side of the family.
"He came before you. But he didn't make it out of the quadrant." Her words are matter-of-fact, but there's an undertone of sadness that has Xaden believing she feels the loss far deeper than he ever could.
"I'm sorry...," he trails off, not sure how he's supposed to address her. He wipes more blood away from his brow before it gets in his eye.
"Sgaeyl," she offers distractedly, her eyes moving beyond him, to the sword fight still being waged in the tiny clearing behind him. "I said the prince would lose his head today. Why don't you go prove me right?"
Xaden turns back around and tenses, cursing himself for forgetting about Garrick.
Blood is now flowing from Garrick's left shoulder but he's paying it no mind as he raises his sword up to block Alic's attempt to slice Garrick's right arm off. As the two swords clash, Alic gets in a sloppy, but effective kick to the side of Garrick's calf that has him going down.
Garrick manages to twist his body last-minute to land on his side and avoid getting the wind knocked out of him. But the maneuver has his wounded shoulder taking the brunt of his fall.
Xaden's moving toward them before he even realizes it, silently drawing his own sword as he approaches. His heart is hammering again as he watches Alic raise his weapon to take the final strike.
Xaden sword is quicker, and he runs it through Alic's back, deep enough that it reappears through his abdomen. Alic's response is a garbled groan, and Xaden lifts his foot to kick the prince off his sword.
Alic falls forward, the force of Xaden's kick sending him face-first towards the ground — right where Garrick is lying.
Garrick rolls out of the way just as Alic hits the dirt. His eyes meet Xaden's with a flash of gratitude as he works to get himself up.
Xaden waits to make sure his best friend is good before turning his attention back to the dying prince, who's working mightily to get up onto his knees.
"You're a... worthless piece... of shit, son of a... traitor..." Alic's rambles are out of breath as he continues to bleed out on the ground.
Xaden hears the dragon grumble behind him, and he can feel the wordless expectation emanating from her as she waits impatiently for him to follow her earlier command. He spares a quick glance at Garrick again, who's retrieved his sword but is distracted by the dragon who's stepped out from the trees and into view.
"Sorry I butted in," Xaden tells Garrick with a sheepish grin. "But I've been asked for his head." He tilts his head in the dragon's direction as means of explanation. Garrick's eyes widen, but he chooses to stay silent in the presence of the dragon, giving Xaden a firm nod instead.
Before he can think too hard about it, Xaden swipes his sword through the neck of the still-rambling royal. The man's head hits the ground with a sickening thud, and Xaden works to keep his breakfast down.
Though not his first kill, it is the first time he's ever decapitated someone. It turns his stomach in the worst way, even as he feels a small twinge of satisfaction in getting to behead one of King Tauri's sons.
Perhaps he's not quite as monstrous as he's come to feel over the last few months — yet.
He's still got a dragon to impress, so he forces down the nausea, compartmentalizes any horror he may feel over adding to his body count, and bends down to retrieve the severed head by its hair.
He turns toward the dragon and tosses the head at her feet, making sure to keep his eyes off the ground and on hers the entire time.
She chuffs in what seems like approval. "Ruthless."
A heady rush of pride sweeps through him, giving him confidence as he admits to her, almost accusingly, "I've been looking for you all morning." Her earlier words about his grandfather finally sink in.
He came before you.
She'd chosen him. And now she's choosing Xaden.
She lets out another chuff. "I woke late. And I refuse to skip breakfast, even for Threshing."
Xaden smiles, glancing behind him to see that Garrick has disappeared. His smile wavers, and he worries over the wound in his friend's arm. Will he be okay to keep dragon-seeking?
"You care a lot for him. And for the others." It's a statement, not a question.
"Yes," Xaden answers anyway. He forces down the trepidation over letting her in on his secrets.
The marked ones and Aretia are who he's dedicated his life to, and there's no point in trying to hide it from her. She needs to know who she's choosing, and what he'll be continuing to fight for. And all the types of monsters he's willing to fight against.
"You carry scars for the ones you're devoted to," she notes. "And now you'll carry one for me as well."
The reminder of the wound on his brow cuts through the adrenaline enough for him to feel the sting again. But her words erase any lingering resentment he may have felt over the scratch.
She steps forward. "Get on my back. The cadet you saved will be just fine, and your other friend has already been chosen. There's no point in spending any more time around here tempting the cadets who'd love to take your own head off your shoulders."
Xaden exhales in relief at the news about Masen, and decides to trust her certainty that Garrick will make it just fine on his own.
He hesitates for just a second, calculating the best strategy to make it up her leg. The gauntlet didn't quite prepare him as well for a dragon of her size. It's a challenge, but he makes it up to her back, avoiding the spikes at her neck, and reaches the divot with only minor embarrassment.
"Didn't you practice?" she chastises him, but her tone is light.
"Of course I did." He rolls his eyes. "But you're huge."
She chuffs. "Wait until you see my mate. You'll see who's the real monstrosity of a creature."
Xaden lifts a brow, fighting the discomfort of her knowing what he had been thinking earlier. "Is that always...?" He trails off, not sure how to phrase the question.
She scoffs. "Get used to it, cadet. I know everything about you. I always will." It almost sounds like a threat.
He nods, mostly to himself, knowing he'll just need time to adjust to it.
As a means of distraction, the dragon formally introduces herself. But she also launches into the sky as she does so, and her words are lost to the wind whooshing past Xaden's ears as he directs his focus on staying seated as she flies high above the trees.
He remembers her earlier introduction, though — her name is Sgaeyl. She's a navy Blue Daggertail, once bonded to his grandfather.
Unbidden, a memory from many years ago of his mother rises to the surface. She'd told him once that her father had entered the riders' quadrant while she was a baby. She never got to meet him.
"Dragons aren't allowed to bond direct descendants of their previous riders," Xaden notes lightly, trying to shake off the heavy feeling that comes from remembering his mother.
Sgaeyl stays silent, and Xaden interprets it to mean that she has little care for any rule that may stand in the way of what she wants. And what she wants at the moment is him.
"I could go mad," he continues absentmindedly. Judging from the excited flip his stomach just did at the thought of being wanted by this dragon, he may already be half-way there.
"You won't go mad," Sgaeyl asserts.
He arches his wounded brow. "And how do you know that?"
"Because I chose you," she scoffs.
He grins at the arrogance, but his chest fills with pride. And anticipation, as he sees the flight field getting nearer in the distance.
Soon, they'll be landing in the field. Soon, he'll be walking up the dais to look the roll keeper and General Sorrengail in the eye and announce the name of his new dragon — and relish in the shocked faces of Commandant Panchek, Captain Fitzgibbons, Colonel Aetos, and anyone else who doubted that a dragon would choose Fen Riorson's son — or any marked one.
Sgaeyl knows everything about him. And she chose him.
Xaden Riorson is officially a rider.
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lively-potter · 2 months
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— nepenthe ; part four
— genre ; age gap, angst, fluff, smut, sheltered oc, ceo jungkook, mafia/gang vibes ( kinda/sorta )
— warnings ; please note that in the beginning, the oc is in an abusive home — and if this triggers you please do not read. the oc is of age but nothing smutty will be happening for a while — but there WILL be smut. A small bit of SA is in part two and if it tiggers you, don’t read.
— intro, part one, part two, part three
— 2024 © LivelyPotter
— find me on Wattpad ; LivelyPotter
— taglist ; @ahgasegotarmy116 @jk97bam
— word count ; 2.7k
***
SOLARIS January 22nd, 2024 Charleston, SC
"Damn it, gguk." a deep voice filters inside my ears as awareness creeps upon me. "What the hell did you do?"
I felt a softness underneath my head and I unconsciously nuzzled my head into it. My body felt like it was laid on a soft surface. What was happening?
"I scared the girl, okay?" a deep voice snarled back, "What else was I supposed to do when I found this little girl in my private room?"
"I don't know," a voice shot back sarcastically, "Maybe be calm and nicely ask her what she's doing in here. I mean, come now, gguk, she's a tiny thing – what harm could she cause?"
"You can never be too careful." the deeper, scarier voice spat back. "Don't question me, Theo."
Theo.
My lips parted as the memories of tonight came flooding back.
Father calling. Ataraxia. Theo...and...and the Chairman finding me.
Bile rose in my throat and I nearly felt like passing out again. Embarrassment flooded through my veins.
Oh goddess; what would Father think of me embarrassing not only me...but also damaging his image in front of Chairman Jeon? He is also known as his boss.
Oh God, please save my soul.
"Anyways, what were you doing in here? I thought you were in the other room with Mr. Caponeiv and his team?"
Chairman Jeon released a rough sigh, seemingly closer than expected to me. My fingers curled into my palms to ground myself.
How would I get out of here without being noticed?
I held perfectly still, holding my breath – listening closely to the Chairman's reply.
"Brittany came by."
"Called her didn't you?" Theo's accented voice rose an outcave in amusement.
A snort came out of the Chairman. "I'm going to be here longer than I'd like to. She offered. How could I refuse?"
Okay. It was time to 'wake up' now. Right?
Suddenly, a painful throbbing erupted at the back of my head, where I had hit it when I had taken a tumble off the soft couch. A loud whine of pain left my lips, and my tiny hand came out to grasp it.
"Oww!"
I kept my eyes clenched shut to not only hide behind my eyelids but to also keep the throbbing at bay. Shuffling was heard and the sound of the door closing was heard and I relaxed.
"Hello, little tesoro." I heard Theo say and then a big hand placed itself on my forehead. My body unwound from its tight posture in happiness.
If he was here then the Chairman must have left! Sweet Jesus, thank you! I'm not going to die today!
"Is your head paining badly? I can get you medicine," he asked kindly, helping me into a sitting position.
"N-no thank you, m-mister T-Theo." I stammered out in a rush, "d-did you find my Father?" I asked quietly, shoulders hunching.
My eyes were still closed as I cradled the back of my head.
"I did, little Tesoro. I gave him the money from your bag. He thinks you already went back home."
"Thank you. Is...is the s-scary man gone?" I whispered for clarification. Fear had the blood pumping through my veins rush at a faster rate.
I just wanted to go home and hold Mr. Carrots.
Theo let out a loud laugh, and I imagined his big shoulders shaking in the rhythm of his laughter. His hazel eyes sparkled in mirth as he beheld my trembling frame in front of his.
"I'm sure he'll be back soon, he had to step away from a moment."
Did he have to step away so his anger wouldn't get the best of him and he killed me? An audible gulp left me at the thought.
"Come, little tesoro, let's get you up on our feet." he smiled softly, grasping my hands in his and carefully helped me stand on my feet. The world spun for a split second, and I ground my stumbling feet to the floor.
"Thank y-you, Theo." I sent him a wobbly smile, finding my crocheted bag on the couch and slipping it across my body. My knees stung as they bent.
"C-can I go h-home now?" I asked, unable to look into his eyes without craning my neck back. At this gesture, a flash of the Chairman came to mind.
Goosebumps popped out upon my skin. He was even scarier and bigger than Theo was.
I'd do well to leave this place before he came back.
A look of hesitance crossed Theo's dark complexion; "You must wait a moment, tesoro. The Chairman may want to speak with you."
Paling, I stammered out a sentence.
"...w-why does h-he want to s-speak with me?" faintness passed through my body again.
The sound of the door opening had my feet stumbling forward to hide behind Theo's bulky body. The man I was hiding behind chuckled after the door closed and made his entrance known.
"Where is she?" he said.
My little fingers grasped the back of Theo's shirt in fear, huddling closer to the man.
"All is well, little tesoro. No need to hide." Theo spoke deeply, "He will not harm you."
"How are y-you so s-sure, M-mister Theo?" my voice came out small and meek in the Chairman's presence. I couldn't see him, but I feel him.
He could be in a crowded room and everyone would stop. Because that was the effect he had on people.
I heard an unfamiliar sigh and stiffened. I clenched the fabric of Theo's shirt tighter.
"Theo, Arilie needs you at the bar. Go help her." Chairman Jeon commanded, his orotund voice leaving no room to argue. In front of me, Theo said nothing, but I watched the back of his head move in a nod.
My pulse raced when Theo moved away, thus putting me right in front of the Chairman. Through my terror; I took the time to inspect the huge man in front of me.
As 'legend' goes; he was as intimidating as those women told me he was.
He towered over Theo by at least three inches. I would have had to put him at six foot four. His black suit and tie clung to every curve and crevice of his toned body to with every move of his arms – his biceps rippled underneath his jacket.
A tiny little gasp left my lips as my neck craned back to zero in on his face.
In short; his face was just perfectly breathtaking. Stunning, gorgeous, handsome, too perfect to put in simple words also fit.
It was his eyes that drew me in.
Chairman Jeon's deep brown irises were strikingly beautiful, his eye shape was something between rounded and almond-shaped and they even sparkled. His pretty eyes captivated me at first glance. It was as if he had a special power that drew people into wanting to know about the hidden shadows within his eyes.
His skin was a beautiful shade of tan with honey undertones.
My eyes squinted just a bit to catch a scar on his cheek and the freckle beneath his chubby double pierced bottom lip.
The Chairman's sharp jawline rocked back and forth as he turned his head, pretty eyes watching Theo retreating back.
I also looked at his pretty black hair, brushing against the back of his neck. It looked fluffy and inviting — my fingers twitched to get rid of the urge to play with his hair.
The door closed with a resounding thud and I was left alone to face the man that stood merely feet away from me. My teeth came down and captured my bottom lip between my teeth and bit down – a sting of pain rolling down my neck at the sensation.
I didn't know what to do with myself.
My white shoes scuffed along with marble floor, head hanging low while watching them kick at nothing. Unknowingly, I had drawn his attention to my silent figure.
"Come here." he acknowledged me, pretty sparkly eyes finding mine. I screached his eyes for any emotion, yet I couldn't detect one.
I quivered in my shoes and aquiesced to his demand without a word leaving me. It wouldn't do me any good to fight against him – I knew I would lose. I shrunk underneath his notice and slowly moved to stand in front of him.
It was then I realized, with a flush, that if I were to stand by his side – I'd only reach his bicep. How embarrassing.
Chairman Jeon watched with scrutiny, "Your name is Solaris?" he asked, gigantic body relaxing just a bit. He shoved his tattooed hands in his pockets, hiding his tattoos from view.
I nodded meekly, staring up at him with fear and admiration. Wow! He was terrifying, as expected, but I couldn't believe I was standing in front of him! He was basically a legend! World Famous and he said my name! It felt prettier and most important coming from his lips. 
He rose a brow, entirely unamused once I fought to swallow past the lump in my throat. "Are you going to speak?" he asked carefully, eyes glimmer just a bit more than before.
I flushed and tore my eyes away from his. "U-um...y-yes, sir." I simpered weakly, unable to look at the Chairman. I could only force myself to look at his shiny black shoes.
He was too appealing to look at. Way too perfect for someone like me to be allowed to stare at him.
"...m-my name is Solaris Celeste Vesper." I continued, pride flaring up within my soul as I spoke my full name aloud. My name was the prettiest thing about me, I believed.
Chairman Jeon made a small noise in the back of his throat.
It was soft and somehow relaxed my tense body.
"And how old are you, Solaris?"
It was official. No one had ever said my name the way he did. It made me love it even more.
I gnawed on my bottom lip, "...I'm n-ninteen, sir." I stammered respectfully, bowing my head in a show of upmost politeness. If I wasn't on my best behavior...well, it was just be my last day on this earth.
"Hmmm." Chairman Jeon clicked his tongue. Too frightened to take a peek at his face, I admired his shoes and how the color of his suit complimented his skin.
"Take a seat and I'll get your knees patched up, yes?"
My tummy fluttered as I wordlessly nodded and took a seat on the sofa and wiggled my bottom to get further up on the seat, feet swaying back and forth as they hung inches above the ground. I hesitantly looked up and was fixated as the Chairman walked behind me, pulled up slightly on the fabric of his pants and knelt down infront of my sitting figure.
I watched him open a small box with a bright red cross on the front and adverted my eyes when he glanced up.
"This may sting a bit," he said, lips pressed in a thin line as he tore open a small square packet and withdrew a white wipe.
"O-okay." I grimced in discomfort as he pressed the little wipe on my skinned knee, thoroughly cleaning my knees.
I rubbed my lips together and allowed myself to stare at the top of his head once his face was pointed downwards, focused.
He didn't seem so scary now. He was cleaning my wounds and being gentle, too. If he was helping me...well, he couldn't be too mean, right?
I was drawn to look at his hands once more.
His right hand had a plethora of pretty tattoos and I traced over every once of them with my eyes. My mouth formed a little O as I took in his pretty rings, they looked really expensive. But my favorite one would have to be the simpler golden ring, the one on his pinkie finger – it was classy and elegant all the same – with a engraved J on the flat surface of the ring.
A signet ring — telling all who looked at it exactly who he was and where he had come from.
Out of all of them; it was the prettiest in my opinion. Most of the time, the simpler things were the best.
My mouth opened and words came tumbling out before I could stop them.
"...y-you are scary...but not as s-scary as some p-people say, Mister." I uttered with a tiny flush as the q-tip swiping ointment along my knees stilled.
I paled, fearing that I had upset him, when he finally chuckled.
"Is that so?" he articulates, his perfectly chiseled face raising up to look at my pale face. I slumped back against the seat in relief when a small quirk lifted the side of his lips. Thank goodness he wasn't angry.
Chairman Jeon efficiently finished up cleaning my knees and placed pretty pink hello kitty bandaids on my knees that I giggled at.
I was beginning to relax around the man, enough to where I wasn't stammering my words in front of the man.
"Thank you, Mister!" I beamed up at him, wiggling my legs as I sat on the seat. My knees felt so much better after he doctored them and butterflies swarmed lowly in my tummy at his kind gesture.
"When is Mister Theo coming back?" I wondered, lips pouting out.
Chairman Jeon loosened his tie and blinked down at me, a light kindleding withing his eyes. "I have to go home soon, Mister. May I leave?" I admired his strong body as he took a seat across from me, and resting his ankle across his knee.
"Wait just a moment," he said, looking at my arms quickly, his glare sticking onto my upper arms. My eyes followed his and landed on the bruised skin. I covered my arms in shame and couldn't look at him in the eyes for a couple minutes.
His sharp jawline tightened when my hands covered what I could to shield the bruises from his sight. He pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek, creating a bulb shape, and stared right into my eyes.
"I'll have Theo drop you off at home," he offered kindly, smiling gently at me – acting completely different to the man that I had met when he came into this room. My lips parted.
"...okay, Mister."
The Chairman nodded, face held in a blank expression, but eyes still kind. "Good." he remarked, taking his phone from his pocket. I watched him type something on his phone underneath my lashes, until he pocketed the sleek phone once more.
"Theo's waiting at the entrance." he passed on, running his fingers along his sharp jawline, his smokey sounding voice making me shudder.
"Thank you, Mister." I beamed and wiggled my bottom off the couch. I scurried across the room and opened the door.
I stopped myself before I closed the door. Remembering my manners, I poked my head back inside the door, and saw Chairman Jeon lick along his bottom lip, observing me in amusement.
"Bye, Mister! I hope you have a good night! And thank you!" I cheered, about to close the door – when I gasped once more. I poked my head back inside the room, "Oh – and I hope you sleep well! Goodnight!" I waved happily, feeling more at ease in the presence of Chairman Jeon.
The last thing I heard before closing the door, was his throaty chuckle.
author's note ; ✨
Solaris is so cute 😭😭🥹 I love her so much ❤️✨ As always, thank you so much for reading and enjoy!
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