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nexusnyx · 1 year

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Me & Mr. Miller

au!Joel Miller x f!Reader [5.2k] summary: You and Joel had a deal to stay away from each other. The only obstacle is—neither one of you wants to do that. He might be the father of one of your closest friends and someone a few (many) years older than you, but... who cared. Not you. Not him. The deal wasn't going as planned. 📝 in this scenario the outbreak never happened! joel miller is doing just fine! If you enjoy it, reblogs and comments make all the difference. warnings⚠️ mature content—explicit depictions of sex, so minors dni. | 🏷️ age gap, misunderstanding, secret relationship, pining, strangers to lovers. Oral (f receiving), penetration (p in v), unprotected sex, dirty talking, love-making.

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤTexas, Winter of 2023.

"Aw, shit, Joel. Fuck," Tess turned to him with her face twisted into a weird, panicked smile, and that's exactly when Joel realized he'd gone and fucked up again somehow. "You set me up. You set me up!"

"What?!"

"We could've at least told me you were inviting me to Sarah's birthday to be eaten fuckin' alive—is she still looking at me? Goddamn," the panic left for a second, replaced with a knowing smirk that he was unfortunately too familiar with. "She's got really nice eyes, I'll tell you that much. Were you gonna tell me I came here to make your girlfriend jealous? And really—is she still looking? 'Cause those are very intimidating eyes, and I'm gonna need to prepare myself."

There was no preparing to look into your eyes.

Joel would know.

He was done for the minute he laid eyes on you. The way you looked at him.

His hands started to sweat, and his mouth ran dry. He had to look. Gravity couldn't keep him from it.

"You know... a lot makes sense now," Tess starts.

"Don't."

Tess chuckles, hiding it in her drink. "Jeez—did you win her by blabbering her ears out? 'Cause I only got a single look into Miss Daggers for Eyes, but she looks—"

"Jesus Christ, I'm gonna regret having brought you, won't I?" Joel interrupts because he can't turn around as sharply as he'd like, and he can feel it already. Your eyes on him.

Tess stops hiding her laughter, "Oh, for sure. And only because I'm gonna make it very hard for you because you didn't tell me. Because you think that not talking about it makes things just... go away," she wiggles her fingers like dandelions in the sky, and Joel loves his best friend, but she can be a bit of a dick.

"I was gonna tell you," he sighs, fidgeting inside the stupid blazer; sipping his bourbon to ease the jitteriness inside his skin already proved to be a terrible fucking idea when in your presence. "I was—" and where are you? There are a lot of people behind Tess' shoulders and Joel could spot you in a football crowd.

"Jesus." Tess enunciates every letter. "Joel, find her so you can have your focus back."

"Just for the record, she isn't my girlfriend," he states.

Tess scoffs, and it says more than words could.

"She isn't," he presses.

"I believe you," says Tess. "But now I also know I wasn't crazy when I said you were happier last year after going to New York. You were. And Miss Daggers for Eyes—"

"She has a name."

"—is the reason. Does she? Does she have a name, Joel? Her parents are so kind for giving her one," Tess sasses. "I would know her name if you hadn't hidden her from me."

"I didn't hide anybody, there was nobody to hide. Also, can you shut up? You're louder than my thoughts."

The next laugh comes accompanied by a slap on the shoulder, and Tess walking away, but not before whispering in his ear. "Joel, buddy, I wholeheartedly believe you had the best intentions with bringing me here, but here's a tip you didn't ask for: Not one of you is as over whatever the hell happened as you may think. Talk to her."

Talk to her.

As if it was that simple.

As if there wasn't a deal.

Joel needs to find you, but first, he needs another drink.

He gulps down his glass and tries to smile as the guests pass him by. None of them seem to notice his imminent heart attack. None of them see through his carefully curated nonchalance, and he's happy about that.

There's already a person present who can see through him like glass, and he can barely deal with that one.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤNYC, Spring of 2022.

You stood no chance against him.

The first time you saw him, Joel looked like a Wes Anderson visual.

Pink suit, grey strands unabashedly mixed in his soft, shiny black hair, and a shy smile to put any of the other men present to shame.

You were drawn like a moth to a flame.

He looked quite serious without that beautiful smile on—he looked like someone who would, in fact, never wear a pink suit, so you walked over to him and slid right next to his spot at the bar. "That's a bold outfit choice," were your first words. You smiled when his eyes landed on you, so wide and filled with surprise; warm, and stunning like a hot summer day. "But it suits you."

Joel looked stunned for a moment.

He blinked, sipped his bourbon glass and his eyes did a not-subtle-at-all up and down. Then, he put down his glass and the corner of his mouth twitched with the idea of a smile. "I lost a bet," he answered. You recognized the southern accent immediately. "Believe it or not."

"Oh, I believe you," you chuckled.

"It suits me, though?" he asked, opening his arms to the sides.

You nodded. "It does," your peripheral vision caught Bruna approaching behind the bar, and you smiled at her. "Hi, babe. Can I get a caipirinha, please?"

"Hey, girl," she smiled at you and used all of her subtlety to glance at Joel observing the exchange. "Sure thing. Vodka, sake, or cachaça?"

"Bruna, you know there's only one way to do a proper caipirinha," you rolled your eyes.

Bruna smiled. "Cachaça it is, then. Lemon, or something else?"

"Hm, how about an unexpected fruit? Surprise me."

"You got it. Anything else?" she asked.

"Nope, just remember to drink some water. You always work too hard," you winked at her.

Bruna left to make your drink with a blinding smile on her face, and you turned around to find Joel staring. He leaned on the counter with his arm supported on it, and as soon as you looked at him he asked, "Where d'you two know each other from?"

You pointed at the huge banners of NYU standing behind you. "She goes there — I go there."

"You go to NYU?"

"I do," you answered. "Getting my phD, actually," your smile always came out at that.

Joel's face never hides his surprise, but the smile was unexpected and very welcome. "Wow. Congratulations."

"Thank you. I imagine you're here because of the Spring exhibition?" you looked around at the gallery where everyone around looked as posh as you and he did, save for the curious New Yorker just enjoying their walk.

"I am. My daughter has a paper on display on the third floor," he replied.

"Politics and Law area?"

"That's her," he confirmed.

"I have a few close friends in the department," you smiled. "It was my first stop."

"Are you here showin' something too?"

"I'm actually here as one of 'somethings' to show?" No matter how long in the business, talking about being the art itself was always surreal. Especially in front of otherwordly handsome and charming men. Where was Bruna with your drink when you needed her? "My roommate's exhibition won the main exhibit, and we — dancers — are her tool. Her paint."

"You're part of the main exhibit?" He looked every bit impressed, and you nodded, feeling giddy at the prospect. "Double wow. Wait—shouldn't you be backstage, then?"

"Oh, no, gods, no. This whole thing stays here all afternoon, the final piece is only at sunrise—6pm, kinda?"

"Okay. And do I get to know your name before you run off to become art or d'you plan on dropping a crystal shoe so I can roam around later tryin' to find out?"

That had been the first time he made you laugh.

Truly laugh; not a few breaths out of your nose or an easy chuckle—Joel was silly, and he looked like modern-day Adonis in the stupid pink suit that he only wore because of a goddamn bet, and you had no chance.

"I'm Joel," he extended his hand.

That had been the doom of it all—no last names. Only smiles.

You shook his hand and offered your name back, only for him to repeat it out loud.

Test it on his tongue.

You were always doomed.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤTexas, Winter of 2023.

Jealousy looked godly on you.

Joel hated himself for even thinking it, but he hated himself a lot this evening.

He had hurt you, for starters.

The only thing he set himself not to do, and he'd done it.

More than a year has passed since the fateful day you stepped, yet better—waltzed into his field of vision, and had he known a day of peace ever since?

The day he met you still played on his head like a broken record stuck inside a player:

Saying goodbye to Sarah in front of the gallery, turning around the corner, and seeing you with smoke blowing in front of your face, smiling at the sight of him. You in your green dress. The happiness written all over you, the obvious and earnest glee of seeing that Joel was still around.

Walking with you all around New York, feeling three times less intimidated by the imposing streets with you by his side. The smell of your apartment, the street food you two got on the way, the conversation that flowed as easy as a river stream.

Joel had the imprint of your shining personality burning behind his eyelids. The taste of strawberry from your caipirinha permanently inked on his tongue.

He stood no chance against your eyes—as much as she teased, Tess was right.

Miss Daggers for Eyes.

The way you looked at him at said, "You gotta stop looking at me like that, Joel. I'm starting to think you're not paying attention to what I'm saying," even though you already knew that to be true. Since the moment the strap of your blouse fell from your shoulders and you kept on talking, Joel was fish in a net.

He had the taste of your cunt and the smell of being buried between your thighs waking him up late at night for the next months to come.

The way you rode his face just as he asked you to—no mercy, no shame, only that, only your desires and the alcohol and the weed and the conversation and everything—everything, everything, everything.

Joel took it all out like a starved, greedy man, and you took it back, and neither of you slept until the sun was shining again in the sky.

The next couple of months were filled with texts since Texas demanded him back home and you were already home.

It could've been just friendship.

It was supposed to be simple.

So what if you two called each other and got off while on the phone like a couple of young adults who can't bear to be away from each other? So what if Joel texted you and had to endure Tess and other co-workers smiling at him and wondering, "what the hell's got Joel Damn Miller in a good mood, huh?"

So what if Joel learned more about you than he could admit to himself that he even wanted to know? Even if he was the one asking?

It didn't matter, because it wasn't simple.

Because when you called and said, "Your name is Joel Miller?" he realized why Sarah said he was such a 'distant concept'. No social media meant nobody to pry, but it also meant misunderstandings.

It also meant having to answer you with apprehension, because your tone had never been that off. "It is. Why are you sayin' it like I'm on a list or somethin'?"

"Joel." His stomach fell at his name alone. "You're Sarah's dad. Fuck. Of course you are—"

"Wait, you know Sarah?"

"Yes, I know Sarah. I'm friends with Sarah, or I was before—oh god, she's gonna kill me. She is, isn't she?"

He had assisted you through your panic even though he felt the same.

He walked outside his office, talked you through your next breaths, and guaranteed you there was no reason to panic. "That's it, it's ok, hun'—," he stopped, cursed mentally, and rectified his mistake with his name. You were not his hun, and Joel had been lost on cloud nine without realizing you could've never been. "Just breathe. She doesn't know. She won't know. You two are fine."

That had been it, or so he thought.

Joel stared a lot at the last message he received from you. Thought about sending something else. Continuing the conversation.

Instead, he let the silence make the dust settle.

It had been a haze.

A dream, or a glitch in the matrix—it wouldn't be happening again, and no matter how much he looked at the text you sent weeks prior — i really like talking to you, Joel — nothing would change.

Except it did.

Except — the silence amounted to nothing.

One look at you across the street and Joel was dragged back in.

That Summer when Sarah invited him back, Joel had almost said no, but he remained as able to deny her anything as when she was a kid. The weekend went perfectly, and Joel did his best to not think of you as he was there, but all it took was a few words on a screen:

ㅤㅤㅤㅤSaw Sarah's IG stories. You loaok so good when you smile , JoelㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤLove how the sweater looks on yoyu

Drunk baby. Honey.

The second time there was no deal on the table yet, but there was you.

Joel appeared at your apartment door at twenty past two in the morning and only left a couple of hours before his plane left.

You two pretended your apartment was a bubble.

It worked.

Joel had missed you. It sounded silly when he thought it early in the morning before leaving for work—when everyday routine served as bitter medicine it was enough to convince himself it was all just wishful thinking.

With you in the same room as him, lying was harder.

There was no 'wishful' part on how well you two worked.

There was a divine inspiration in the way you made him feel like something new.

Joel felt warm, wanted, devilishly handsome under your gaze. Your careful touch.

"You're so fucking handsome," you repeated to him.

He never thought about his looks, but he couldn't stop himself from enjoying the truth in your words. How much you believed them. "Glad you think so."

"Don't snicker at me like that, Mr. Joel—"

"Snicker? I ain't snickerin', I'm laughin'. You keep tracing my wrinkles like that and I'm gonna get a complex, hun."

"The drama. You're so lame! Oh my god."

"And yet, you're laughing. You know, that's the same shit my daughter says. I'm startin' to think it's true."

"It is. You're silly. But it's okay —" the tip of your fingers tracing his features felt like the first drops of rain hitting the skin. Joel shivered under your touch more times than he cared to count, and he'd only been present for it a couple of times. He'd hate to think of how much you could ruin him with enough time given. How much no other touch would suffice anymore. " — 'cause it's all part of your charm..."

Who would've thought Joel still had it?

Charm.

No amount of charm made up for the situation, though, and before you left, you asked the inevitable question. "No one can know, right?"

"No." He knew what was at stake—your friendship with his most important person. Maybe more. "It was just our last time."

"Right. We're not doing this again."

"We can stay away from each other. I like it like this," he said, pressing his face in your beard-burnt neck, inhaling your sigh and perfume. "But I know..." she can't know.

No—no one can know.

He nuzzled into you, and you nuzzled back. Dug your fingers in the fabric of his shirt. "We can still... talk, can't we?" you asked.

Joel's chest clutched and he held you a little tighter. None of you were at fault for the circumstances, so you both deserved some more stolen time. "We'll talk." He kissed under your ear. "We'll stay away from each other. Talk. Friends can talk. We just—we don't do this anymore. And, no one can know it happened."

"Okay." You sounded muffled against his chest, and Joel thought about how he'd miss touching your hair like this. "I'll just — take a while. To be able to look at you and not —" you stopped abruptly, and pulled away to look up at him and show him not what.

Not look at him with eyes that demanded a kiss.

Without pulling him in by the fire in your eyes.

That had been then — July gave him you again. You for the last time.

The next time Joel saw you after that had been a few weeks ago. Sarah invited you to a party during the holidays, and third time was the charm.

You two talked like good, old friends.

The longing in his chest was ridiculous, the whole entire time.

Now—

jealousy looks good on you.

Sarah's birthday was big enough for Joel to have his eyes on you without you even realizing it. From his bedroom porch, Joel saw you walking by the pool between the guests with that set to your jaw. Another friend of Sarah's stopped you and started a conversation, but the look refused to leave your face.

The problem was—there was nothing Joel could do.

If he pulled you aside to clarify that Tess was only a friend, a work friend who Sarah has called 'Aunty Tess' since she was fourteen, he would be wrong.

Rubbing salt on the wound.

What did it matter what Tess was?

You two had a deal.

Gods, Joel was getting too old for this—too old to watch things from a distance, to see the sadness on the pout of your lips and crave to run and kiss it away, to realize when the lights of the party hit your face in the right angles that your eyes are shining and fuck—

He gets back downstairs and leaves the glass somewhere along the way.

No more bourbon for him.

Joel hears his name called a few times. Allows himself to be distracted by conversation here and there. He's good at lying to himself—he's done it often enough by now. Joel keeps himself trimmed from the deep wants and needs that grow like weeds through his bones, even if he isn't sure why.

Something so rich like you — of course it wasn't for him.

What would he do?

You're Sarah's dad. Fuck.

Sarah's father — he clapped the louder, smiled the brighter, and when the candles were blown and she handed him the first piece of cake, Joel wondered if he should feel guilty for going after someone who's close with daughter of all people.

All he could feel was sadness as he saw you disappearing in the crowd after talking to Sarah in hushed tones inside a hug.

Joel needed to find Tess.

He should leave — his house would be the roof for a lot of people tonight and he needed to talk, maybe—Joel started laughing as soon as the thought came to him.

That's how much you affected him.

He leaves in direction of the kitchen, guarded by the commotion around the cake.

Joel had trouble finding people he liked talking to. You spoke with him for three hours as if time meant nothing, and now it got him wanting to talk about you to his friends, spilling all the bits of stolen moments here and there.

The texts he's read so many times he has memorized.

He needs to get those things off his chest if he wants to stop clinging to them— they've been inside his close fists since Joel got his hands on them — on you — and he hasn't let go ever since.

"Dad?"

He places the bottle down on the fridge shelf, happy he was caught before and not during the act. He pops his head out, and Sarah's standing on the door of the kitchen with a look.

"What?"

"I promised myself I was gonna stay out of this tonight, but — is there a reason? Any solid reason why you two decided to stay away from each other since you're both so... clearly happy about that?" she finishes, eyeing the fridge as if her view is made of x-ray, and the bottle weighs twice more in his hands.

Then—"Wait." Joel's brain freezes. "You knew?"

Sarah's eyes widen, and her mouth falls open. "Oh. My god." She blinks once, then covers a burst of laughter with both hands. "Dad. You and she are so not subtle—I thought you knew that I knew — oh my god. It's not because of me, is it? I mean—don't get me wrong, if you two as much as flirt in front of me at first I'm gonna hose both of you like, on the spot, but—I'm ok with it. Obviously. You two are two grown adults, and dad, don't take this the wrong way, but last year was the most I've seen you smile in a long, long time."

Joel needed a few minutes to take all of it in.

Was it just because of Sarah?

No one can know, you'd said. What if you were ashamed of him, too? Of the age difference, and —

"The same goes for her, obviously." Sarah's words pulled him out from underwater. "I've known her for a couple of years, but... last year was definitely happier than the other one."

He smiled. "You're the best, did you know that?"

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Duh."

"Tell Tess I left?"

"Sure." Sarah's smile spread. "She just left. D'you want me to text you where she's staying?"

Joel had already gifted her, but that didn't stop him from walking over to kiss her cheek and smile proudly. "I'll buy another gift."

"You better."

Joel drove all the way hoping to be right.

Hoping it hadn't all been just a fluke — the moment, a chase, a thrill.

He breathed a deep inhale before knocking on your hotel door.

It took a second before he heard your footsteps, and he wiped his palms on his jeans. "Uhm — I didn't ask for room service?" you sounded confused.

And like you'd been crying.

Fuck him. "I know you didn't."

It was him.

You wished you hadn't opened. He looks good — like always, but better. Hair slicked back, thick jacket to shield from the cold and the soft eyes; it's what bought you, and what traps you again.

You're speechless, but Joel helps.

"I just have somethin' to say and somethin' to ask, then I can be on my way. If you want," he adds.

"I thought we had a deal." It's almost like a plaster. A veil to cover the pink hue on your cheeks, maybe. "And how did you get up here without them calling me?"

He lifted his hands — your scarf was in them, and he tried very little to hide his amusement when he explained. "I've lived in this town my whole life. I just told Nina downstairs you forgot your scarf at the birthday party and you left pretty early tomorrow mornin'." Joel looks past your shoulders. "You're not the only one with friends. Can I come in?"

You wonder if it's possible to say no to him.

You simply take a step back, and Joel walks past you.

He feels like an omen standing there in your hotel room. The one you'd gotten because staying at his house seemed impossible.

The one you dreamt about him appearing out of nowhere, just like now.

If you had drunk more tonight, you would think maybe you're out of it.

"I'll keep it short, mostly 'cause I feel like a nerve wreck." Joel clears his throat and turns around to look at you as you close the door behind you. "She knows. Sarah — she uhm, she asked me basically why we're makin' each other miserable."

She knows.

You feel splinted from your body for a moment as the weight of the secret leaves your shoulders.

"She knows?" your whisper is more to yourself than anything else, but Joel still answers.

"Yeah. And also — that was Tess, tonight. With me at the birthday party."

He closed it at that because the rest was implied — you heard of Tess, many, many times.

When you and Joel spoke before Summer and the few times you two spent hours on the phone after long periods of silence in between, Joel told you about his friends. He told you about his work colleagues, about old college memories, about anything you asked.

He waited for you.

Patiently, as you took in the fact that your only worry didn't exist, Joel stood there a few feet across from you with his hands in his pockets, waiting.

And then, "I get if that wasn't the only reason why you said we should keep it between us. But—"

"It was." You were just... flying. Free. You breathed out, weighing a thousand pounds less. So you could have him? "Joel?"

He takes a step forward. "Yeah?"

There's little to be said when both of you move like orbits.

Your arms already know the way around his shoulders. Joel's familiar with the inches of your waist, and more than anything, you missed this, missed him.

His clever hands wrap carefully around your waist, and you abandoned every ounce of worry that this might be a dream.

"What are you smilin' at?" he asks.

Joel asks you that as he molds your bodies into one—the man is nothing but broad shoulders and back, thick arms that act like tentacles on your body that melts into his touch from the get-go.

"I had a lot of dreams like this," you confess. It feels incredible to just say what pops into your mind.

"Well, then let me remind you that real life's better," he mutters, hands already cupping your neck and cheeks.

Joel is the type fo kiss with his whole body.

You have no idea how both of you deluded yourselves into thinking any sort of deal could prevail when you two are made of this:

His hands roaming your throat, squeezing as you cling your legs around his waist and Joel takes the full weight of you on him. The back of his knees hitting the bed, his body and yours falling into a mess and tangle of limbs.

No deal was bigger than the desire you had of jumping his bones whenever he was at close proximity.

You wanted to devour him — you sucked on the fingers he offered with the same gusto your hips rolled against his lap; Joel moaned for you, and he trembled for you, and he smiled for you.

"'m gonna take my time with you — you know I like to take my time, stop grindin' that pretty pussy all up on me," he growls, and you mewl.

Joel is relentless with his touches.

Every time he took you, it felt like a possession.

Like he was carving your body out of marble to keep the curves set in stone — his palms ran through every inch of you until all your clothes were gone somewhere in the room, and he laughed at himself every time you cried out his name in a loud plea for more.

"Please — please just gimme something," you begged.

Joel smiles at you, dropping his pants to the floor. The entire lower half of his face is shining with the slick and sweat from you — keeping his head buried between your legs, your thighs stradling his shoulders and squeezing around his ears — he always started the nights like that.

"I was givin' you somethin'," he replies. Voice low and thick as honey. Just as sweet, too.

He crawls over the bed, naked, and you have to stop yourself from jumping on him until he's on his back. It'd be worse for you afterwards — you learned it the hard way. Joel would milk every orgasm out of you until you blacked out if you kept him from touching your body to his liking before you could do anything, and who were you to complain?

"Need more, Joel," you cried.

"More what?" He palms your calves, and starts smoothing his hands upwards. "Ask for it, baby."

"Whatever you want to give me, just — please."

"Ah. She learned," he chuckles, and kisses the inside of your thighs. They tremble at the feeling of his beard, and he nuzzles his face there for good measure. "I usually wanna see you ridin' my face 'till you're screaming for the heavens, but —" Joel climbs all the way up, cages your face between his forearms and lets his body lay on top of yours slowly. He doesn't give you his whole weight, but part of you wished he did. "I really just wanna be inside you right now."

"Please!"

"We'll have all night, I just—"

He stopped there, but you got where he came from.

It was different.

Knowing you would wake up and he'd still be there — it was different.

Taking him in when you knew he had more to offer and that's what he wanted to give — it made every inch Joel pushed inside feel more real.

He held both of your hands over your head, intertwining his fingers in yours. He went slow, and kept his eyes on you, and you felt less silly about the hours you cried before because you thought he wasn't yours. Because you wanted him to be.

He must sense you getting lost in the what ifs because Joel's talk changes somewhere in the middle.

His praises, always the tether grounding you to Earth while he fucks your mind straight out of it, changes in words and tone. He whispers, "I'm here, baby," in your ear, and it makes your legs hug his waist tighter. Push him inside even deeper. "Fuck — like that. Does it feel good? Is this what you wanted?"

You wanted him. "Yes — want you so bad," you wanted all of him. "All of you, Joel."

That granted you a hand of his letting go of yours only to make a fist on your hair.

It was rare for Joel to lose control, but you loved it when it happened. When he let go of everything and you could see him without anything on — no pretenses, no clothes, no reservations.

Joel started to mumble in your ear about anything, his hips losing rhythm inside of you as he made you ride out your orgasm. He talked about how good you are, how much he'd spoil you, make you his, his his —

You were. You were.

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padawanlost · 5 months

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But despite the good fortune that had brought those three into her life, improving her lot a millionfold, Shmi Skywalker had always kept a special place in her heart reserved for her Annie, her son, her hero.

And so now, as it seemed the end of her life was imminent, Shmi’s thoughts focused on those memories she had of Anakin, while at the same time, she reached out to him with her heart. He was always different with such feelings, always so attuned to that mysterious Force. The Jedi who had come to Tatooine had seen it in him clearly. Perhaps, then, Annie would feel her love for him now.

She needed that, needed to complete the cycle, to let her son recognize that through it all, through the missing years and the great distances between them, she had loved him unconditionally and had thought of him constantly.

Annie was her comfort, her place to hide from the pain the Tuskens had, and were, exacting upon her battered body.

Every day they came in and tortured her a bit more, prodding her with sharp spears or beating her with the blunt shafts and short whips. It was more than a desire to inflict pain, Shmi realized, though she didn’t speak their croaking language. This was the Tusken way of measuring their enemies, and from the nods and the tone of their voices, she realized that her resilience had impressed them.

They didn’t know that her resilience was wrought of a mother’s love. Without the memories of Annie and the hope that he would feel her love for him, she would surely have given up long ago and allowed herself to die. [R.A. Salvatore. Attack of the Clones]

#swedit #sw edit #anakin skywalker #shmi skywalker #hayden christensen #pernilla august #attack of the clones #mine #my first gifset in like 2 years #and i choose the worst scene to color #feeling self conscious #its been such a long time

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astaroth1357 · 1 year

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Demons in the Dark

What if they have glow-in-the-dark eyes?

Contents: No warnings aside vague mentions of imminent danger. And bugs and snakes.

~♡♡♡~

Lucifer

Seeing Lucifer in a dark room is incredibly unsettling. You know those horror movies where the protagonist sees a pair of demonic eyes from shadows? You've found the inspiration.

His eyes burn with the color and intensity of molten glass and they that just loom ominously in the darkness, usually well above people's heads!

Lucifer knows exactly how haunting his eyes can look, which is why he prefers to sneak up on Mammon when it's dark and he's up to no good…

The mental image of Lucifer's crimson eyes have long since burned their way into the secondborn's nightmares...

He tries his best not to scare MC with them, but it's undeniably unnerving to see disks of pure hellfire roaming around the kitchen looking for a glass of water…

Mammon

His eyes glow just the prettiest shade of gold you'll ever see. Think of a mound of ancient coins glinting away under a treasure hunter's torchlight.

Mammon knows full well how attention grabbing his eyes are, which is part of why he always wears sunglasses when out stealing. People can't see'em glow if they're all tinted up behind his frames!!

He's also pretty proud that his eyes don't give people nightmares like Lucifer's, but since they glow like little sundrops when he's out, moths fly into his face… a lot…

He is far too embarrassed to admit to MC that he also wears his sunglasses outside for bug protection, so he makes up some shit about it being part of "Devildom-style" they just wouldn't understand.

Sometimes, the MC swears that if they look close, his pupils look like Grimm signs. But has to be a trick of the light… Right?

Leviathan

Levi's eyes glow a citrine orange but weirdly, his pupils actually slit instead of dilate in the dark.

Though he will never admit it, but he actually has pretty bad night vision in his normal form. (Which isn't that surprising given all of screens he stares at.)

It's a little comical watching Levi stumble around in the dark if he needs to go grab something. The MC can just follow his eyes as he smacks into a lot of walls…

His demon form can kind of make up for it, but only so much. If things get too dark, Levi can change into it so he can see his surroundings with the help of UV light.

"Snake Vision" makes the dark more manageable, but it's not very good for gaming at all so he rarely thinks to use it. Everybody knows that past a certain brightness in the room, don't expect Levi to be of much help.

Satan

Magically enchanted his eyes to look exactly like a green-eyed cat's in the dark. I'm dead serious.

Imagine just going about your business then two grown man-sized feline eyes pop out from behind a corner. They even have nocturnal eyeshine so feels like you're being hunted!

Sometimes he can't help himself and he'll sneak up on people with his eyes closed so he can open them over their shoulders or peeking around corners.

He has given the whole House about as many heart attacks as Lucifer has pulling those shenanigans, I swear…

Belphie is the only one generally unaffected and he always gets a big laugh from when Satan scares the others. The youngest boys just be like that, unfortunately...

Asmodeus

His eyes look like a kaleidoscope in low light. Every slight tilt of his head makes them reflect a whole new wave of fractals and colors.

Asmo is just as aware as Mammon that his eyes are gorgeous, but unlike Mammon he wouldn't DARE cover them up!! Sunglasses are for sunny days, which they don't ever get down in Hell.

Asmo's eyes are integral to his charm spells, so he takes extra care to be sure that they are as healthy and bright as they can be! He won't even accept eyebags.

Seeing Asmo's eyes in the dark kind of like seeing a trippy optical illusion just... staring at you. It's less unnerving than the others but it's equally hard to ignore.

To this day, he brags that it was his eyes that caught Solomon's attention when they first met. (Solomon actually wanted to pluck them out to use as potion ingredients, but he'll let that stay a secret.)

Beelzebub

Beel's eyes are probably the most normal of all of the family unless you look at them suuuper closely.

In his normal form, his eyes will just glow a nice shade of purple with nothing fancy happening. But in his demon form, they get that glassy, compounded film akin to insects with his iris still trapped and moving around under the surface.

Thankfully, they do not bulge out of his skull. They even give him the ability to see and track objects in fast motion, which does wonders for his reaction time.

... Somewhat unfortunately, though, his line of sight is more narrow than an inscets so it can look like he's trying to look everywhere all at once to compensate. His eyes will constantly dart around the room as if he is trying to follow the flight pattern of a coked out fly.

At least he mostly only uses this during fights or sporting events where they really come in handy. Honestly, if there's anything more jarring than red eyes, it's stumbling across bug-eyes that they can practically see right through you.

Belphegor

Belphie's eyes glow purple, but they don't shine nearly as brightly as his brothers'. In fact, they have a steady, calming pulse when stared at which is very unnerving.

Total darkness is really when Belphie gives off his best "sleep paralysis demon" vibes. His eyes are really relaxing to look at, but only in the same way that the little light on an angler fish would be enticing to its prey. It's a trap, don't fall for it.

Belphie CAN put people to sleep this way, but he hates doing it because it means he has to somehow not blink for ages. He really has to be motivated to want to see someone zonked out.

For a couple centuries, Mammon would send Belphie to talk to Lucifer if he was working too late in order to (compassionately) knock their brother out so he could get some rest.

Lucifer's since gotten wise to this trick, but sometimes if he's really been going too long he will forget until he wakes up on the nearest couch post Belphie "convincing" him to take a nap.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #tw: bugs #tw: snakes

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austinbutlerslovers · 5 months

Text

Major Gale Fantasy Part II

Label Mature 18+

It’s Here! 🏆

I’m Going to Miss You Every Second

(*See Major Gale Fantasy Part 1 )

Summary With Gale training for battle as a war pilot on a military base far away from you in Iowa, his dreams of having you pregnant with his child before he deploys are dwindling. Letter after letter he receives from you revealing there are no signs of pregnancy from your last encounters together. With his hopes dashed and the stress of leaving to war imminent, you both cling to the hope that everything will turn out alright.

*Established relationship married

Descriptions withheld for suspense of the story

Inspo: The incredibly handsome and skilled Major Gale obsessed with impregnating you before he deploys.

Extreme historical inaccuracies, the military workings melted my brain …

Spelling errors repeat words grammatical mistakes but it’s a good plot 🤌🏼enjoy!

Special thanks to @jessica987 ✨ for recommending a follow up 💝

I’m Going to Miss you Every Second

It was a gloomy day on the air force training base in Iowa. Gale was the last returning from a ‘station scramble’ where the men worked to see how fast they could get up in the air and back down to the ground in an emergency attack. As Gale was an expert pilot he went last after all his men had cleared their flights.

As he was landing a giant streak of lighting cracked across the expanse of sky above him “holy hell” he said his voice modulated by the oxygen mask. It vanished followed by a booming thunder clap that rattled the windows violently rocking the cockpit. The wheels touched down as he pulled the levers decreasing the acceleration of the aircraft bounding down the runway until it slowed to a manageable speed. Sheets of rain began streaking down the windows as he navigated the large craft to store near the hanger.

His heart was still racing as he emerged from the cock pit heavily pelted with cold rain. The sound of the it almost deafening as he was greeted by the crewmen to check and refuel the craft and move it to lodging. One crewman stops to yell over the downpour “We thought you were a goner with that lightning strike!” Gale yells back “Not today! I’ve got too much to live for.” They flash smiles reveling in the camaraderie.

Gale is almost soaked head to toe as he heads the short distance for cover in the gigantic hanger. Some men are waiting at the entrance watching the rain some are sitting at tables playing cards and others are tossing a football back and forth through the giant space.

He shakes himself off as soon as he is saftley shielded under the awning. An officer is standing near the hanger door smoking a cigarette as Gale walks in “Sure is raining cats and dogs today” he says absentmindedly before taking a drag “You know what they say, when it rains it pours” Gale shoots back as he walks to the rear of the hanger. He heads to his locker there and removes his pilot jacket and cap hanging them inside.

Several officers are sitting at a table nearby reading news papers and listening to the radio. All the news papers have catastrophic titles about the war plastered in capitol letters across their front pages, more alarming is the radio loudly blaring information about all the recent bombing raids and attacks occurring.

Gale had been moved from his home base to this training station for 12 weeks now. It was imminent that he and his men were going to war, flying directly to Germany in the coming weeks.

A drill sergeant enters the opposite end of the hanger with a messenger bag he begins yelling the names of several officers until shouting:

“MAJOR CLEVEN GALE”

When Gale hears his name he heads over and collects his stack of letters. Each time he receives mail he hunts through the stack for your letter first, each time his heart drops dismayed not to hear the news that you are pregnant but happy you are doing well.

He walks back over to an empty table near the officers reading the news papers. He shuffles the letters in his hand one by one until he stops on the one with your handwriting his heart skips and he hurriedly sits down dropping his stack of mail infront of him on the table.

He flips your letter over and breaks the seal with his finger ripping it open sliding out and unfolding the piece of paper to read:

_________________________________________________

-Dearest husband,

Here I am darling, I cooked one of your favorite meals tonight, sundried tomato sauce with spaghetti pasta just the way you like it with lots of parmesan on all the meatballs. I can’t wait to cook for you again. I hope you are eating well you must keep your strength.

I miss the sound of your voice and wonder when you’ll return home to me. With just myself here I often think of what you do in your down time. I believe the only thing that compares to the happiness of holding you in my arms again is holding a little bundle of joy. I am writing this time to tell you that you’ll be a father. I am 18 weeks pregnant. Today is the first day the doctor heard the tiny heartbeat and I’m finally beginning to show, I know this means the world to you.

Sending all my lov - - - -

———————————————————————————

Gale doesn’t finish the letter he stands straight up and yells “IM GOING TO BE A FATHER BOYS !” The hanger erupts with loud cheers of all the men whooping and clapping for him. The men in his unit come running and jump on him hugging him slapping his back and congratulating him.

They all begin chanting “FURLOUGH FURLOUGH FURLOUGH ” he yells back “IM CHECKING OUT BOYS!” And starts running to his superiors office to request his furlough to come and see his woman pregnant with his child before he leaves to war.

Constant Cravings

It’s been two days since you wrote the news to Gale that you were expecting. It was already late in the evening, the mailman didn’t have any letters from the military base but you did receive letters from your friends and congratulatory flowers from your parents.

You stare out the window thinking of him wondering if he’s alright, wondering if he even knows. You place your hand on your belly feeling the now firmer underside swelling where the little baby is nestled, you rest your hand there lovingly.

You turn and head to the kitchen still feeling so famished after dinner the only thing you craved were spaghetti and meatballs you were cooking them constantly especially the meatballs with parmesan all over them you couldn’t get enough. You decide that’s what you wanted to eat again.

You bring the skillet out and place it on the counter next to the stove. You strike a match and place it to the igniter, a ring of fire flicks to life under the burner and you place the skillet on top. You pull the container of meat balls you’ve prepared for tomorrow out of the refrigerator and pour olive oil on the skillet before placing them on the hot oiled surface to cook .

You bring out the cutting board, the big wheel of parmesan cheese, and grater. You take a knife and cut a large slice of the Parmesan off returning the rest of the wheel back in the refrigerator and quickly check the meatballs turning them over with a spatula to cook evenly.

You then cut off a few thin pieces of parmesan cheese from the large slice to eat for yourself. You irresistibly pick one up and place it in your mouth on your tongue. It melts deliciously and you savor it before taking another piece and then just one more you crave the saltiness and the texture so much. You turn to check the meat balls they are golden brown you click off the fire.

You finely grate the remaining Parmesan into powder. You rinse off the cheese grater and cutting board setting them in the drying rack.

You set out a plate on the counter and transfer the meatballs over to it from the skillet placing the heavy cast iron into the sink to wash later.

You cover the meatballs in a large mountain of powdered Parmesan snow. When all is complete you stare at them proud of yourself and excited to eat what you crave the most.

You hear the sound of a car pulling up at this late hour the lights from the head beams flashing through the living room. Your brows furrow wondering who it could be you head to the living room looking at the front door when the sudden sound of a key sliding in the lock surprises you.

Your heart stops you stand frozen as the door opens and you blink in disbelief as Gale steps in. He is in uniform wearing his heavy leather brown and black fur lapel jacket. His thick blonde hair slicked with product but still strands fall perfectly against his forehead. He looks stunningly handsome you haven’t laid eyes on him in so long it takes your breath away. His flushed red cheeks and luscious pink lips form into a grin as his striking blue eyes light up with joy upon seeing you.

“C’mere baby” he says with his deep drawl arms open as you come wrapping you tightly in his embrace. He pets your head and kisses the top lovingly, your soft feminine scent driving him wild after being away from you for 3 months.

He’s holding you firm against his chest as you inhale him, he smells like rain and leather and birch bark soap relaxing you instantly making you feel safe in his arms. “I missed you so much Gale” your words softly muffle against his chest. “I missed you too doll “ he says tipping your chin up with his thumb and forefinger to look up at him. You gaze deeply into those big beautiful blue eyes staring right back into yours with all the love and tenderness in the world.

“Kiss me Ga...” you start to say his name as he’s already pressing his soft pink lips against yours. As your eyes flutter closed you feel the sexual charge in him as he’s pushing his lips more passionately against yours. You part your lips wider onto his licking at his tongue coaxing it out, he makes a small moan as he slides it in to taste your sweet mouth.

The sensations of your tongues twirling tantalizes his cock, his length already hardening as he knits his brows wanting to kiss you more but also knowing he needs to come up for air and tell you his news.

He releases you from his kiss and you stare at each other a little out of breath “I got your letter“ he says forming a grin from ear to ear across his handsome face. “They granted me furlough I’ll be here with you all week” you shriek in excitement “I’m so happy you’ll be home with me Gale!” You say cupping his handsome face in your hands.

“ Now…” he says stepping back “let me see my little bun” his eyes are dancing wildly as he peeks down at your stomach unable to contain his excitement any longer. You giggle at the nick-name “here’s your little bun” you say presenting your small round forming pregnancy to him.

A proud smile forms on his face and he immediately kneels down before you, finally reaching his large hand and placing it on your small baby bump. It warms his hand to the touch and melts his heart completely. He carefully places his ear against your womb and closes his eyes.

You look down at him and smile warmly, he’s crouched into you as he kneels because he’s so tall. You place your hand on his head lovingly and stroke your fingers through his gorgeous golden locks. He’s in bliss caressing your womb and whispering to the baby to grow strong for him. He kisses your naval and finally stands up tall gently pulling you to him by your waist.

“I’m so proud of you” he says planting a kiss on your lips “and I love you so much ” he says squeezing your waist on his last word, he stares into your eyes with complete devotion. “I love you too Gale” you say sincerely and place your hand on his chest over his heart as you gaze into each others eye.

Suddenly you remember the task you were performing before he surprised you “Come Gale, I made a little something we can eat, I was so hungry after dinner..I am always hungry now…” you trail off slightly shy to admit. Hes just pinches your cheek adoringly knowing your eating for two. He removes his jacket placing it on the rack near the door and takes your hand as you walk him to the kitchen.

The meatballs are sitting on the countertop in perfect display looking like a photo straight out of ‘The Housewife Magazine’. “I miss this so much” he says wrapping his arms around you from behind pressing his chest to your back and kissing the top of your head. You hold the front of his forearms wrapped around you as an idea forms in your mind.

“What if we eat the in the living room? No silverware, no plates just with our fingers “ you say giddily just wanting devour the meatballs as fast as humanly possible. “Sure thing sweetheart, why don’t you go sit and I’ll bring them over to you ” he says. You agree with a nod and he goes to wash his hands in the sink taking the plate on his way back bringing the meatballs to the living room coffee table.

You sit comfortably on the couch but instead of sitting next to you he kneels in front of you on the living room rug. With the coffee table on his right he turns to pick up a meatball from the pile on the plate and brings it to your mouth. You eat it from his fingers “Mmm” you say enjoying it. He brings you another as you finish chewing the first and then another.

You gently roll your eyes into your head the seasonings the cheesiness the saltiness satisfying the yearning from your stomach completely. He stares at you lovingly knowing that as he’s feeding you it’s for his baby too.

Hes always hungry for your food the meatballs smell delicious he tilts his head up and tosses one in his mouth. The ground meat you used is so succulent he eats several more. You lean forward opening your mouth and he feeds you the last one, the plate now completely empty.

You sit back with a smile on your face and pat your hand on your stomach “Thank you for feeding me Gale that was so unexpectedly sweet“ you say grinning cutely. It reminds him of his present. “I have a surprise for you!” He says squeezing your thigh lovingly as he stands. He takes the dish to the sink and grabs his keys from his jacket heading out to the car to retrieve it.

He returns a moment later carrying a giant teddy bear and a bouquet of roses. Your eyes light up it’s such a beautiful sight to see and he’s so romantic. He shuts the front door with his elbow and smiles as he walks over and kneels infront of you. “For my special girl” he says handing you the large bouquet, “Thank you Gale” your voice high and sweet as you place your hand on your heart to show appreciation.

You accept them and lift the flowers up to your nose instantly getting lost in the powerful scent of fresh red roses. “And for my little bun” he says placing the large teddy bear next to you on the couch. You giggle at the nickname again. He just stares at you now seeing how completely happy you are in this moment.

He places his hand briefly on your knee “I’ll put them in a vase for you ” he says gesturing as you hand over the roses. He heads to the kitchen unwrapping them, finding and filling a clear blue bubbled glass vase.

Placing the roses inside he sits back admiring his work. “Where would you like them” he asks. “There on the table is perfectly fine…” you say absentmindedly staring at the brown crushed velvet teddy bear with a big red silk ribbon on its neck. The first toy you’ve received for your ‘little bun’ is making you emotional.

“Honey how would you like to turn in with me for the night? I’ll shower and we’ll lay together in bed I need to hold you I’ve been missing sleeping with you so much”

“Oh Gale of course” you say realizing he’s been out all day on such a journey to get here and he’s probably so tired.

He comes over and offers you his arm helping you to stand you smile appreciatively. He wraps his arm around yours placing his hand on top walking down the hall to the master bedroom.

Lucky Lightening

He enters with you and gently releases your arm to begin unbutttoning the tight collar of his military shirt, you see him struggling with it as usual and tip toe up against him helping him pry it open. As it unbuttons he breathes a sigh of relief “What would I do without you?” he says flashing a flirtatious grin.

You trail your fingers seductively up his firm chest “You would handle it like the strong capable Major I know you that you are, but Im happy I can be here to assist you” you peek up at him through your lashes and he quickly captures his lips with yours thoroughly enjoying the compliment you gave him.

He pulls back to look you in the eyes “My favorite girl in the whole world” he says and quickly unbuttons down the length of his shirt, he smiles at you appreciatively before heading to the shower. You hear the water turn on through the closed door as you make your way to the vanity table across the room.

You slide your dress off with your brassiere and panties tossing them in the hamper. You grab your soft silk robe from its hook near the vanity placing your arms in leaving the front open loosly tied.

You look at all your creams neatly organized and pick the one labeled vitamin E opening the lid and collecting the cream on your fingers slowly lathering your abdomen. As you are massaging the cream on you stare at your reflection, the glow of the low lighting makes you look radiant you turn to the side wondering how big your belly will get.

You hear the shower turn off and Gale brushing his teeth you smile enjoying the sounds of having him back home. You finish rubbing in the cream sealing the lid as he emerges into the bedroom clicking off the light. The scent of his fresh pine birch soap fills the bedroom he smells wonderful.

You peek over at him, blonde hair slicked back dark and damp, shirtless with strong chiseled arms and perfect pecs twiddling down to that tiny waist of his with his tight abs, he’s wearing only his woven boxer shorts.

He notices you admiring him and comes closer approaching you from behind in the reflection of the vanity mirror. He immediately unties your silk robe and slides his hands down around your tiny baby bump. He kisses your ear as he stands behind you inhaling your scent, you smell much sweeter than he remembers and he’s enthralled by it.

He continues his kisses down your neck and onto your shoulder enjoying every touch of his lips to your delicate skin, silently obsessing knowing you are carrying his child.

He stares up at the reflection of you together his hands never leaving your womb. His voice rich and deep breaking the silent moment as he locks eyes with you.

“Can't wait till everyone sees how pretty you're gonna look all big and round” he says running his hands over the front of you. His lips fanning your ear “Everyone knowing you're my girl, the love of my life and that you're carrying my child inside of you …" he trails off unable to contain his arousal for you any longer.

His lips part against your skin as he licks and sucks his kisses onto your neck his large hands reaching and cupping your breasts gently squeezing them. They are so sensitive you part your lips and let out a soft moan.

He leans in again whispering softly against your ear “I can't believe I knocked up a pretty little thing like you.” Your eyes flutter shut as you are wet with arousal remembering how much you truly enjoy the feel of his cock inside you.

He turns you around pulling you to him pressing his hard length into your thigh kissing you slowly as he walks you backwards to the bed. He helps you disrobe and lays you down softly in the center. He places his hands on the soft inner flesh of your thighs and spreads them apart.

He pulls his boxer shorts off and locks eyes with you, holding the base of his cock in his right hand he presses the head on to your clitoris earning a beautiful moan out of you. He slides his cock head down your slick wet folds to your entrance and shoves himself home. His plump mouth opens and his cheeks flush red as he fills you up to the hilt.

His breaths are short and shallow as his swollen cock sinks in and slides out of you. His desperate loud moans begin filling the room unable to contain himself not having you for so long. He breathes out as he buries his full length into you pulling halfway out before plunging all the way back in, his hips smacking in a rhythm with yours. You moan in time with each thrust feeling like you will come apart at any second.

He quickens his pace pulling himself deeper into you with momentum. His hip movements strong and deliberate clapping against you as his cock head hits your cervix deep inside each time. His eyes dark and full of unbridled passion as they look into yours.

It’s all powerfully overwhelming: the way he stares, the way he thrusts into you hitting that perfect place, and the way that you just miss him so much, your body tenses and then trembles as you orgasm for him, waves of pleasure washing over you as your walls flutter tightly around him and you moan out his name, you can see in his eyes he felt you come undone, his release immediately following yours.

His hips jolt forward snapping into you as his body tenses and his cock throbs inside of you releasing all of his semen. You gasp and moan together from the feeling as he pumps his final thrusts into you.

He stills himself breathing heavily over you as you both come down from your highs. After a moment he gently slides himself out and falls back to the bed his chest rising and falling. You both stare up at the ceiling together panting slowly your faces displaying a mix of awe and satisfaction. Your minds both high swirling with serotonin thinking about what just happened. Your breaths finally calm as you lay next to each other. Gale already deep in thought.

“It’s kind of beautiful how I realized you were pregnant.” He says feeling a sudden clarity in his mind. “It was a real stormy night on the base, winds were whipping wildy. I was laying there and It was pitch black in the bunker after lights out. So I reached in my rucksack near my cot in the secret pocket and pulled out your panties.

“GALE YOU DID NOT !” You say in shock sitting up to stare at him “Yes I did” he says chuckling.

“Major Gale Cleven you are *such* a naughty boy!” You say grinning and lightly spanking him on his firm muscled shoulder. He quickly grabs your wrist pulling it over to settle you “cmon you gotta let me finish it gets really good” he says with a grin placing your hand on his solid chest.

“Alright tell me how you knew” you ask, scooting into place resting your head on his firm bicep. He places his hand down on your hip giving it a light squeeze pulling you against him.

“Well If the boys ever find your panties in my things I’ll never hear the end of that ” he cracks up.

“But as I was saying it was a real stormy night, everything on the base was jumping and creaking I couldn’t sleep a lick. So I lay there with your panties hidden under my hand flat against my chest just grounding me, cause I’m missing you every second im out there. I empty my head of all thoughts I was having except for being home with you and I guess it worked because I drifted to sleep and started dreaming.

I was back here at the house and you were just over there across the hall in our guest room. It was turned into a nursery just like we plan. I was resting with my elbow against the the doorframe peeking in you were infront of the nursery cot the baby was laying inside. You kneeled down to pick something up that fell and I saw that tiny little hand just reaching up for you over the rim of that cot and my eyes went wide it just knocked the wind out of me, you stood up blocking my view and trust me I was trying real hard to see that baby.

Thats when the loud hurricane alarms started blaring all over the base waking me and all the men up we prepared the base hunkering down and that wind ripped through so hard that night but the hurricane passed us right by. As it all died down we headed back to our cots everyone else cranky and tired but not me I had the biggest smile on my face, because all the times I dreamt of you that was the first time that you had the baby.

You take a moment to absorb all that he said.

“ Gale…that’s such a beautiful dream” you say overwhelmed with sentiment your heart swelling. You love this man so much you can’t even form the words to appreciate him.

“ I love you a Gale” is all you can think to say

“ I love you too ” he says tucking his chin down to peek over at you smiling. He reaches his long arm over and clicks off the light. You two shrouded in darkness hearing the soft patters of rain starting outside. “Mmm look at that the storm followed me home “ he says jokingly. “Oh I forgot to tell you the best part, that day I got your letter my craft was almost struck by lighting as I landed” he says casually.

Your eyes grow wide “ Gale that’s terrifying!” you say “ No no not for me that’ll always be a good luck sign because it was a surprise, just like finding out I’m going to be a father from your letter.”

He pulls you up higher on his bicep and plants several loving kisses on your forehead before caressing your jaw. He rubs his thumb playfully over your lips to make smile and you do. “Good night sweet heart” he says eyes heavy “Good night Gale” you say snuggling up on him. He places his large hand on your tiny baby bump “good night little bun” he smiles to himself closing his eyes. You stay awake a moment longer listening to his breathing change as he falls soundly asleep, you feel his calming heartbeat under your hand placed on his chest. You move it to place on top of his hand holding your baby bump. Feeling perfectly complete, you close your eyes and drift of to sleep.

~*End*~

Tags: @jessica987

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aphroditelovesu · 2 months

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The Lost Queen - XII

— summary: You woke up near a military camp without remembering how and why you got there, you didn’t understand why they were dressed like ancient Greeks, all you knew was that you weren’t safe and you needed to get out of that place as soon as possible. Too bad for you that you found yourself attracting unwanted attention from the Macedonian King and he won’t let you go so easily.

— genre: yandere, dark!au.

— warnings: time travel, obsessive and possessive behavior, murder, mention of torture, kidnapping, angst, fluffy (very rarely), dub-con, possibly smut.

— pairing: yandere!alexander the great x female!reader, yandere!generals x female!reader.

— word count: 3,070.

— tag list: @devils-blackrose, @faerykingdom, @hadesnewpersephone, @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 , @kadu-5607, @zoleea-exultant, @borntoexplore11-blog, @silmawensgarden.

— the lost queen series masterlist.

Chapter 12

When you regained consciousness, you were no longer in the Macedonian war camp.

You knew this because your body was lying on something soft and comfortable, softer than your cot and far more comfortable than anything you had experienced during your time here.

Your eyes looked around, looking at everything with fear and curiosity. You quickly realized you were in some kind of tent and a luxurious one at that. There were exquisite tapestries and gold, lots of gold. It was a richness that you could only imagine, seen only in old period films and something you never thought you would ever witness.

It was beautiful. And disturbing. Absolutely disturbing.

You were no longer with the Macedonians, you knew just by looking at the wealth that tent had. Not even Alexander's tent had so much wealth, he preferred to maintain a more Spartan style, a way of getting closer to his soldiers and generals. You respected him for that.

You had no idea where you were and who you were with. Genuine dread and fear filled your insides and you had to try to hold back the rising bile, the imminent urge to vomit that took over your aching body.

Now was not the time to vomit. You needed to find out where you were, what had happened and how to get out of there.

You carefully got up from the small bed you were half-sitting and half-lying on and began trying to walk through what appeared to be the opening of the tent. You stopped abruptly when the flap opened and you had to stay strong when the person you least expected appeared in front of you.

"Perdiccas." You whispered his name, your legs shaking weakly and your heart beating wildly. You were about to have an anxiety attack and needed to try to stay alert.

Perdiccas looked at you, concern shining in his dark blue eyes. He stepped forward and gently held your shoulders.

"Are you well?" He murmured, looking at your face, searching for any sign of a bruise. You shook your head in denial, trying to understand what the hell was going on.

You were no longer in the Macedonian camp, that much was obvious, so why was Perdiccas here too?

"W-Where are we?" Your voice cracked a little.

Perdiccas shook his head, "You will find out soon enough. You must rest now."

"What do you mean by that? I..." You felt yourself being pulled more and more by the panic that was growing inside you. No, you didn't want to go through all that shit again.

"Everything will be fine." Perdiccas assured, "They swore to me that you would not be harmed."

They? Who were they?

"Who are you talking about? Perdiccas, what's going on? Who are they?" Your mind seemed to spin with every question you asked.

Perdiccas pursed his lips and sighed heavily and after a moment's deliberation, he replied, "The Persians."

"The Persians." You repeated his words, trying to make sure you heard him right. The Persians, yes. You were with the Persians. You and Perdiccas.

Perdiccas just nodded, unsure of what to say. He had thought during the hours when you were blank on what exactly to say to you, but everything he had rehearsed had gone to waste.

"Why are we with the Persians?"

Perdiccas bit his lower lip as he contemplated your words. He didn't seem to want to tell you but you were going to find out one way or another.

"Because I brought us here." That's all he said.

You nodded your aching head, trying to stay calm. Perdiccas brought you here.

"Why?"

"Because then we can be together." He murmured, looking at your face calmly.

As his words registered in your mind, you replied weakly, "You betrayed Alexander." It wasn't a question, but a statement.

"Yes," Perdiccas began to walk in a circle, "I did it for you. For us."

You looked at him, your eyes flashing with anger, "Do you realize what you did? Alexander is going to kill you!"

"I did what I had to do. Darius offered me a good deal and I couldn't say no."

"W-What did he offer you?" The words were louder than a whisper, but he heard them well.

Perdiccas approached you and placed his hands on your bare shoulders, "That you would be mine in exchange for information about Alexander."

Your heart began to beat painfully inside your chest and a wave of nausea took over your body. You pushed Perdiccas away and unable to hold back the bile, you vomited on the floor of the tent and some on Perdiccas' boots.

Perdiccas just looked at you with cold, hard eyes. He didn't seem disgusted but rather irritated.

"So it is true."

You looked at him confused, your breathing labored and the bad taste of vomit on your lips. How you wish you had a toothbrush now.

"You are pregnant." He said, clenching his fists.

You didn't respond, you just closed your eyes, trying to hold back another wave of nausea.

"It's all good." Perdiccas said, placing a hand on your head, "Soon you will be free of this burden."

You opened your eyes quickly, scared of what those words could mean.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of you. Now come, let's get you cleaned up and you'll be introduced to Darius."

When Perdiccas helped you straighten up, you didn't fight it. Fear paralyzed you. Perdiccas seemed very calm about the news of your pregnancy and something told you that what he was planning would not be good. But you wouldn't let him hurt your baby.

You would kill him before that.

A few days after your wedding night, at the Macedonian War Camp.

Perdiccas was in his tent, with a cup of wine in his hands and the other gripping his sword tightly. He was livid. The wedding was over but the sounds of the festivities still echoed through the camp for days. The soldiers all seemed excited about their choice of Queen.

Although you were clearly a foreigner and an unknown, you had earned their respect during your time there. You helped the injured, helped save Cleitus, and worked with the doctors to heal them. You were a kind of hero to the soldiers and they adored and respected you.

Perdiccas liked knowing that you wouldn't have any problems with them, but he hated the fact that you married a man other than him. He felt sick just thinking about your wedding night, about Alexander taking your virginity, about him entering you and hearing the sweets sounds your lips would produce. And in the nights that followed, he pretended not to notice that Alexander seemed to spend most of his nights in your tent.

Perdiccas wanted to gut Alexander for this.

Gripping the cup of wine tighter, Perdiccas' knuckles turned white. The more he thought about it the angrier he became. He needed to control himself or he would end up walking into Alexander's tent and doing something he would regret.

Well, maybe he wouldn't regret it so much, but he didn't want to die now. Not when he had you to conquer.

Sighing heavily, he stood up from his chair and put away his sword. He wanted to sleep, he didn't want to think about you in Alexander's arms.

But the gods had other plans for him. Perdiccas frowned when a messenger entered his tent without asking permission. He didn't recognize him as one of his men. Maybe it was a message from you? He was excited by the prospect.

"General Perdiccas?" The messenger asked in broken greek. Perdiccas heard a strong accent and he didn't like it at all.

He quickly reached for his sword and in one swift movement, Perdiccas cornered the man.

"Who are you?" He growled, his sword pressing into the man's throat.

The messenger gasped, "I-I bring a message from King Darius." His words were harsh and scared, but Perdiccas understood them perfectly.

Darius. The fucking King of Persia.

Darius send him a letter. Why?

"Why?" He asked, still not removing the sword from the man's throat.

"A proposal." The messenger murmured and pointed to the sword, "Can you take it out? I just want to talk."

Perdiccas stared at him with a raised eyebrow but nodded and slowly removed the sword from the messenger's throat. The man stood up and introduced himself.

"I am Aslan."

"I don't care who you are. Just tell me why you're here and why I shouldn't report you to Alexander."

Aslan muttered something in persian and said, "Darius has a proposal for you.

"Which proposal?"

"One that might be of interest to you. One that involves your new Queen—" Aslan couldn't even finish the sentence before Perdiccas had him cornered again.

"What about her? Is she in danger?! ANSWER ME!" Perdiccas growled furiously in the messenger's face. Aslan swallowed.

"She's not in danger!" Aslan managed to choke out, "She'll be fine. I just came to talk."

Perdiccas narrowed his eyes and slowly walked away, "Say it at once."

Aslan straightened his robes and said, "Here is a letter from Darius." He handed him a papyrus envelope.

Perdiccas took it suspiciously and said, "I can't read persian."

One corner of Aslan's mouth turned up, "It's written in greek."

Perdiccas sighed and opened the letter, reading its contents.

''General Perdiccas,

I address you in this correspondence to propose an agreement that I believe could be of great interest to both of us. I have been aware of your feelings towards your new Queen, as well as the supposed tension towards your King since he married her.

I therefore present my proposal: if you are willing to share information that could contribute to the success of our endeavors in this war, I undertake to assist you in fulfilling your wishes in relation to the Queen. She will be entirely at your disposal, whether to join you in marriage or to be taken as a concubine, as you wish. I assure you that all measures will be taken to guarantee your well-being and safety.

If you agree to the proposed conditions, I will take the necessary steps to transfer you from your camp to mine. I await your response.

Yours sincerely,

King Darius III.''

Perddicas's eyes widened as he read the bold content of this letter. When he finished, he took it to a candle and set it on fire. Destroying any possible evidence.

Aslan watched him with interest.

Perdiccas turned to the persian messenger, his eyes shining with determination and mischief, ''Tell your King that I accept his proposal.'' There was no hesitation and not an ounce of remorse. He had made his choice.

Aslan smiled mischievously and nodded.

Perdiccas stared at the candle with a dark expression. You would be his. It was everything he needed. He knew he would be turning a traitor, but he didn't care. The prospect of living a life with you was more than he could have wanted.

Maybe he would be cursed by the gods for this choice but it would all be worth it if he could hold you for a moment, feel the taste of your lips again, touch your body, join you as one.

It would all be worth it for you.

A few days before your kidnapping,

You walked around your tent bored and distressed. It had been a few days, weeks in fact, that you had been feeling increasingly anxious and this was due to several reasons. One of the main ones was that you noticed a significant change in the story.

You were supposed to go to Sogdian Rock, where Alexander would meet Roxanne and marry her, but instead, he was preparing for a battle against Darius that you knew was Issus's. This was wrong, very wrong indeed. You had already changed history too much and you feared what those changes might mean for the future.

You needed to leave soon before you screwed everything up once and for all.

You took a deep breath and thought about your other problem. Your period was late. Okay, you didn't keep track of your menstrual cycle here, but you knew it should have come to you by now. You thought maybe this was due to the fact that you were no longer a virgin and that this could have changed your cycle, but that didn't make any sense.

The truth was what you feared. A few days ago, you started to feel strangely sick and had some nausea.

You assumed it was the food that was bad, but when those symptoms only increased, you knew the truth.

You were pregnant.

This was bad, very bad. You shouldn't be pregnant. You could not. Alexander should have taken years to have a child with Roxanne, not you. The idea of pregnancy was scary for you, what it could mean. This could keep you permanently stuck in the past but could also be catastrophic for the future.

You needed to find a way out. But you had no idea how to get back. Your only clue was that strange man in the market but you never saw him again, which left you with no way out.

''(Y/N)? Can I come in?'' You were startled when you heard a voice outside your tent. You took a deep breath and replied,

''Yes. Come in.''

The flap lifted and you smiled gently when you saw Leonnatus enter, dressed in a simple white chiton. He smiled widely and ran to hug you, pulling you tightly and crushing you in a bear hug.

You laughed softly and hugged him back. A few days ago, you found yourself very close to this officer, he seemed to like you and you liked him. He reminded you a little of Perdiccas, due to how kind he was to you.

''How are you?'' He asked when you separated.

''I'm fine.'' You mumbled and he raised his eyebrow.

''Tell me what's wrong.'' His voice was slightly harsh and you looked at him, ''Please.'' He added when he saw your incredulous expression.

''I...'' You sighed and sat down in a chair, ''If I tell you something, will you promise not to tell anyone?''

As soon as you uttered these words, the tent flap was opened again and Seleucus entered unannounced. You frowned and he gave you a guilty smile.

''Sorry. I couldn't help but hear you talking and I want to know too!'' Seleucus said, approaching you.

Leonnatus raised his eyebrow, ''You are a gossiper.''

You laughed when Seleucus looked at you indignantly. Oh, these two were comedy and you loved them for it. You were happy to have found an unlikely friendship in them.

''I am merely concerned for the well-being of our wonderful Queen.'' Seleucus defended himself.

''I'm sure you are.'' Leonnatus scoffed.

''Okay, okay! I'll say it but you two have to promise, no, swear to me that you won't say anything to anyone, you hear?'' You said nervously. Noticing your nervousness, both men nodded quickly.

''I…'' You took a deep breath, gathering courage, ''Well, I think I'm pregnant.''

Leonnatus smiled widely and Seleucus even jumped for joy.

''Ah, by the gods! That's great!'' Leonnatus said, very excited.

''YES! You have to tell Alexander! He's going to be so happy!'' Seleucus added, joining his fellow officer in his joy.

You quickly stood up, ''NO! You swore to me not to say anything!

They stopped celebrating and looked at you confused. That was good news, wasn't it?

Leonnatus approached carefully and placed his hand on your shoulder, ''Why?''

''Because I don't want him to know yet. I'm not sure if I'm pregnant or not, but I want to know for sure first.'' It was a half-truth and thankfully they seemed satisfied with it.

''Alright, let's not say anything.'' Seleucus said and placed a hand on your other shoulder, ''You have our word.''

You smiled in relief, ''Thank you.''

Leonnatus and Seleucus hugged you in a group, making you squeeze between them. You didn't push them away, instead feeling calm about having friends and allies who clearly cared about you. That was good and it hurt a part of you to know that you would have to leave them eventually.

But for now... You would just make the most of this time as much as you can.

Present day, at the Persian War Camp,

True to Perdiccas' words, you were washed and dressed by servants. You looked like a doll in the hands of these women and you hated this feeling of helplessness.

When they finally finished dressing you, you found yourself sitting in a chair, waiting to be called to meet Darius. A part of you was apprehensive, while another felt a twinge of excitement at being about to meet another historical figure.

Sighing, you grabbed a glass of water, drinking it slowly as you reflected on the gravity of the situation you found yourself in. It was clear that big problems lay ahead.

You stood up abruptly as the tent flap was pulled aside, your heart beating wildly as your eyes locked on the figure entering. The glass of water slipped from your shaking hand, falling to the floor with a muffled pop, the liquid spilling onto the carpet.

A chill ran down your spine as you recognized who stood before you. You instinctively stepped back, your hesitant footsteps echoing softly in the tense silence of the tent as the figure approached.

"It's... you...", Your words came out in a fragile, almost inaudible murmur, your body seeming to weaken in the face of the imposing presence in front of you.

It was him, the man from the market. The same person who, in some inexplicable way, had been the catalyst for your journey through time. Disbelief and fear intertwined in your mind as you tried to process the significance of this unexpected encounter.

''Hello, (Y/N). It's good to see you.'' The man said, smiling broadly, ''We have a lot to talk about, don't we?''

— lady l: It took me a while to bring it but my days are busy and I barely had time to write! BUT, I hope the wait was worth it with this ending... Hahaha, what do you think will happen? 👀

I hope you enjoyed it and we'll see you in the next chapter, which won't take so long! Love you!! ❤️❤️

#the lost queen #tlq #history #yandere historical characters #yandere history #alexander the great x reader #yandere alexander the great #yandere alexander the great x reader #long fic #fanfic #yandere au

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galebrainrot2024 · 4 months

Text

Last Light Inn Gale

I was thirsty tonight. NSFW18+ Minors DNI

Summary: This picks up in the Shadowed Lands from Gale's POV where he tells Tav how hot they are after battle. Light banter from fellow companions Karlach and Shadowheart. Features Gale *ahem* enjoying himself, thinking of Tav once they reach Last Light, right before he goes to sleep.

There is nothing quite like it, the chemistry when two bodies yearn to become one. The way one’s cells quake with anticipation, excitement, and fear - fight or flight kicking in. The way the body responds to the voice of their lover, or one yet to be.

“Hello?” Tav was waving a hand in front of Gale’s face and he started, rejoining reality before his face turned crimson. He had been deep in thought, admiring Tav as they dodged, attacked, and ravaged their foes once again. His mouth was dry, his knees weak... he felt like a schoolboy again. It was not yet two days prior Elminster had found them, delivering Gale’s fate.

Now instead of having lifetimes ahead of him, Gale had mere months at best. To once have so much time, to have it violently ripped from you, is a dreadful fate. Becoming one of the faceless, though, forever trapped in a melded wall of unclaimed spirits… no. Gale could not endure such a fate. He hated being rushed, hating feeling as if he had so little time to do what he wanted but he knew that was simply a fact. Now was not the time for inaction. Suddenly the words came tumbling out, like a bad batch of Hundur sauce.

“It’s quite thrilling, to fight off such grim creatures as this region throws at us. Especially being at your side,” he paused for a moment, considering his next words, “I once… read a book that explained in some detail the effect a brush with danger has on one’s desire for… other forms of stimulation.” He swallowed though his mouth was dry, “Have you ever read anything on that subject?”

Tav blinked at Gale rapidly and suddenly he wondered if he should have said anything at all. He had been so confident Tav felt something towards him… the late night conversations around whatever tome he was reading, the way she would collect various herbs and fresh vegetables where she could to give him a wider range of ingredients for their meals. He was so sure of it, so sure that his statement would not be misplaced.

He was suddenly very aware of the looks of shock on Shadowheart and Karlach’s faces. He bit down on the inside of his lip, a nervous habit and swayed a bit on his feet before relief sunk into him as Tav spoke: “I’m not much of a reader,” she said softly, but with a knowing glint in her eyes that made Gale’s heart flutter, “But I’ve seen some very informative diagrams.”

Informative diagrams. Gale cleared his throat, shifting to conceal his growing arousal. Thank the gods he was wearing a loose robe.”You have? Oh…” he took a deep breath, a smirk toying at the corner of his mouth, “Then might I suggest we pool our knowledge. No sense in letting valuable, first hand experience go to waste, after all.” He tried to steady himself, his brain not quite grasping yet that Tav had indulged him. That she had accepted him. “Perhaps it’s just the thrill of our near-undead experience talking, but standing at your side through such darkness and disrepair,” Gale’s face softened, his lowered voice cool, “it only makes me want you more.” Before he pained the remainder of their companions anymore he continued, quickly - it was unwise to linger here in the Shadowed Lands when reprieve was so close ahead. “Unfortunately this is neither the time nor the place to indulge in such feelings. So, we must be patient and push all such thoughts aside… for now. Did you need anything else?”

Tav froze, seemingly bewildered. Gale worried if he had said the wrong thing, wondered if he still had her favor until he saw the blush that spread across her cheeks, just kissing her skin. It seemed somehow more radiant in this blueish, dark night.

Although his imminent death lay ahead, Gale knew when the moment was right, he would tell Tav everything. He couldn’t bear to face the notion that Tav would never know the depths of his thoughts, his ardor, his adoration of her. Every waking moment he spent with her he felt more and more alive, more so than it seemed at times with Mystra. He would share it all with her - it needed to be perfect. And, the only way to perfect anything is to practice.

“Gale - did you just,” Shadowheart breaks the awkward silence lingering between the four as they began the short journey to Last Light Inn. “I’m sorry, did you just tell Tav you wanted to have sex with her by citing a book?” Shadowheart chuckled mockingly, though not out of malice. Gale took it as him replacing the brother she never had, or could remember so he didn’t let it bother him too much.

“As a matter of fact, I did,” Gale said and the way Karlach began to crack up made his ears burn even though he knew they did it in jest. Gale took most of their joking in stride compared to some of the other, more volatile companions, and so he was often the source of everyone’s humor. The light banter they threw at him was doing some good, anyway, or at least Gale knew that’s what Tara would think. “Besides, it’s more than I can say for either of you.”

He paused for dramatic effect, his tone teasing though serious, “I know who each of you is pining for. You all think I’m not listening when I’m sitting and reading my book as you sit and drink around the fire late into the evenings…” Gale turns around to face them and smirks, one of his eyebrows raised, “Just because I have a book in hand doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy indulging in people’s personal lives. So, unless you’d like me to recommend how you should approach each of your yet to be lovers, I suggest we change the subject.”

Tav interjected jarringly, “Is Mystra always such a demanding goddess?” They were nearly to Last Light Now and Gale was pulled violently to a different train of thought.

“Erm,” he felt as if he couldn’t remember a thing about Mystra for a moment before continuing, “She expects those who seek to use the Weave to do so honestly, and with respect for its potential to destroy, as well as it’s potential to save.” He paused for a moment, thinking carefully before choosing his words, “I doubt she’s asked many of her followers to blow themselves up. That’s a fate she’s bequeathed exclusively to me. She wouldn’t ask such a thing if it weren’t our only means of survival. However much she’s annoyed at me.”

Gale heard Karlach begin to ask, “So, Tav, are you going to let the wizard“ and Tav began to speak over her, louder. It made Gale grin, the butterflies in his stomach almost overwhelming him. If he could, he would take her here and now. But there was still so much to do and he needed time to get it right.

“How are you feeling,” Tav gazes into his eyes in a way that made him stop walking for a moment before collecting his thoughts. “It can’t be easy, facing the possibility of death…”

Even this made Karlach and Shadowheart stop snickering, and Karlach chimed in. “As someone with loads of experience on the matter, I find it best to focus on the positives. What good will it do robbing grief from the future? The future isn’t here yet.” Gale felt a surge of both regret and relief as she said this, entirely forgetting for a moment that they shared similar plights, similar fates. Karlach and Tav talked about it often, how Karlach wanted to face the end of her existence, but Gale had only just learned of the task he was given.

Gale was terrified. Hearing Karlach’s generous advice gave his spirit a gentle nudge in a more optimistic direction, even if by a hair. “Oh, well, you know me-“ Gale said, catching back up to Tav “ever the optimist. The truth is, I was living on borrowed time already. Consuming those items would only have kept the orb sated for so long. If anything, I feel more at peace than I have in months. At least now I knew my death will have purpose. It won’t be a distant ‘bang’ in the footnotes of history.”

“Damn, that’s beautiful mate. Truly poetic.” Karlach says, “We will both go out with a bang, you can count on that. But before that happens,” she inhaled in such a way you’d think she was delivering difficult, somber information, before saying, “it looks like.. we need to get laid.”

Gale immediately looked to Tav for her reaction and they locked eyes. His breath hitched and he felt as if he would suffocate, but there was not time to say anything further. They’d arrived and their welcoming at the inn was lukewarm at best.

Everyone had settled for the evening, scattered throughout the property. Tav was busy gathering information from Jaheria and speaking with the Tieflings who made it to Last Light. Gale knew Karlach wouldn’t be telling any of the others about what he said because she was too busy flirting with Dammon - upon their arrival, they found him to give Karlach's engine the second upgrade she deserved and now she was on a similar mission. It made Gale chuckle a bit to himself, wishing her the best. But what of Shadowheart?

She won’t share because, well, he thought to himself, she’s Shadowheart, first and foremost. Second, She is a Cleric of Shar. Secrecy and discretion may as well been invented by them.

His thumb grazed his lower lip nervously, unwilling to bank on Shadowheart’s absolute silence. It took a moment before he found her, standing by the water and idly drinking a bottle of wine on her own. “May I?” He said, sitting beside her.

Shadowheart smirked, “Please,” she took a long gulp from the bottle, turning to Gale and offering it to him. He held up a hand, polity declining.

“Although I would love to indulge I.. have quite a lot on my mind and would be terrible company. I just wanted a moment of your time, if that’s alright with you.”

“What if I said no?” Shadowheart looks back out onto the water, grinning. Gale shifts uncomfortably, never quite sure where their relationship stood. The only people she seemed to open up to were Tav and Astarion, to Gale she was a particularly difficult book. “You don’t need to ask, or tell me anything. I can be discreet. Besides,” she giggles and little from the wine and hiccups once, “It would be no fun for me at all if I couldn’t hold this over you. You think I’d hand this power over to everyone else?” She scoffed, “Not a chance. You have nothing to worry about, your secrets safe with me.”

“Thank you,” Gale said it like a prayer answered, “I appreciate your discretion, truly. And if you’d like any practical advice on how to…”

“Go.” Shadowheart held up a hand, glaring at him, “Before I change my mind.”

Gale was in his bedroll, had somehow finessed his way into his own room while his companions were bunked together. He realized it was likely because no one felt like debating with him for hours about the merits of Wizards needing exceptional amounts of alone time to best prepare their bodies and minds for battle without distraction.

Tonight, though, Gale’s thoughts drifted. For the first time, he allowed them to go to Tav, the old fashioned way - through the sheer power of imagination. He knew he wanted to worship her, to taste the bud between her thighs as his last meal, to caress every curve and supple inch of her skin.

Before now, before learning of what task lay before him, he only partially indulged the storm of desire that brewed in him, to be with her in every sense of the word. Too much excitement and he worried the orb would destabilize. Now that it had been put to rest, if only momentarily, the need to act on his desires returned in full force. Primal urges hadn’t been an issue in his isolation.. or even early in their journey, for the matter. But Tav was so generous, so compassionate even to those she hardly knew… the way she smelled, the sound of her laugh, even how downright unpleasant she was every morning until she ate something. It drove him wild, the yearning for her deepening by the day.

He felt that familiar thrum between his thighs, blood pulsing as he twitched to life, he poured some water and unscented oil onto his palm before slipping a hand between his undergarments to grab his erection.

Gale sighed, thinking of Tav’s lips, what it would be like to kiss them. What she will taste like. He thought of exploring her body and mind within the weave, bestowing pleasure upon her through every sense, in a tantric, almost surreal experience. He moved his hand slowly, deliberately against his erection as he thought then about taking Tav traditionally, in his less than worthy mortal body, but…. oh… to feel the warmth of her skin against his… to kiss and lick down her neck…to her chest to taste those pillowy breasts... to bite her nipples gently before licking and kissing lower… He was moving his hand urgently against himself, his back arching a bit, biting down on his lip, completely lost in the idea of her. He thought about licking across her hip bones and caressing her inner thighs, spreading her legs to taste the sweet nectar that lay between. To become intimate with every fold, every layer, to taste her so fully with his tongue swirling and pulsing into her as his hands gripped her waist.

Gale was shaking now, the urgency at which he stroked himself growing, moaning as he thought of her, wishing his hand was hers. Wishing that she was here with him now. His eyes rolled back as he thought of Tav bent over a bed, he ensuring her comfort and desires being met before thrusting into her, slow and deliberately at first and then with ferocity, imagining how warm she would be, how wet… how eager… how her pussy would grip around his erection, hungry for him, and how he would push deeply to please her. About how they would share both their minds and bodies, how he would tell her how much he adored her, how beautiful and sexy she was as he claimed her entirely, lightly biting her supple flesh while his fingers would explore every inch of her and all at once Gale cries out, “Gods above, oh fuck,” and he erupts, his dick twitching sporadically as the familiar sticky wetness fills his hand and cloth. Gale breathes heavily, dizzy, his face hot, and cleans himself properly before lying back down.

As Gale drifts into a less than restful sleep, he wonders how glorious the experience will be if it felt so extraordinary just imagining it.

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 art #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #bg3 gale #bg3 brainrot #god gale #gale #gale smut #gale x tav #bg3 #baulders gate 3 #bauldur’s gate #baulders gate gale #baulders gate tav #bg3 fic #gale bg3

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robinsdearest · 3 months

Text

This isn't what it looks like

Bruce Wayne x F!Reader

Five times the birds catch you, and the one time Bruce finally does.

Damian catches you first. It’s late in the night, or early in the morning, depending on how you view the clock. Six one way, half a dozen the other. No matter because your youngest is already demanding an answer for your whereabouts. He can tell something is wrong from the way you jump from your skin when he surprises you. He found you walking up the stairs from the BatCave, and your question regarding his bedtime was dismissed quickly. You have a certain smell to you that he immediately places. His interrogation is thorough, you do admit to yourself, because he simply cares about you and your safety. He also loves his father and you can see the conflict in his eyes as the gears in his head turn and turn. You try your very best to explain the circumstance, but you are failing miserably and cannot fully mitigate this instance. You think your secret will be revealed to Bruce before Damian gives you a slight nod after careful consideration. Damian promises to keep your secret in return for a new pet. Your immediate question is to know which one he wants. You're not above buying compliance.

Jason catches you second. His confrontation is less aggressive than Damian’s turned out to be. You’re not even home when the Red Hood finds you. You’re coming out of an unremarkable garage when he drops from the roof right in front of you. Your yelp of surprise sends a flock of birds scattering to the wind. Jason only crosses his arm to stare at you in silence while you fidget under his glare. You are blessedly given another chance to explain the circumstance, and Jason is much more receptive and understanding. His gaze flicks between you and the open door to the garage. When he finally spots what sits there, his arms go slack. He takes off the hood and simply listens to the rest of your story. Once you’re done and you think he’s going to call Bruce, Jason throws an arm around your shoulder and steers you back to the garage. He has a few items to negotiate for his silence.

Tim catches you third. In truth, you had thought he would be the first to catch you. His hacking and investigative skills rivaled that of Bruce’s on a bad day and far exceeded Question’s on a good day. You thought you had erased any trail of your small venture out of town, but it seems even attempting to cover your tracks was foolish, as this was child’s play for Red Robin. Tim sits in front of the computer and brings up a map of the area you have just returned from. Your face is hot with strong embarrassment as you grip your bag. He slowly turns the chair to face you, an inquisitive eyebrow raised waiting for your defense. You try to plead your case with hard evidence and logical reasoning: it really was a small venture, and you were only gone for less than ten hours, which is amazing in this day of age, and- In an incredibly surprising twist of fate, Tim only acknowledges your story by removing the map from the screen and deleting the record logs. He sips his coffee and tosses his head towards the exit, dismissing you entirely. Your knuckles are white and tight wrapped around your bag as you head upstairs.

Cassandra catches you fourth. She’s so quiet, you didn’t even realize she was with you until she tapped your shoulder. Your scream is shrill and you thought the glass from the small window would burst. After your body doesn’t fail you with an imminent heart attack, you look back to Cass as her small smile grows into something more sinister. You don’t even have a good explanation for tonight’s journey. Your plans are in ten minutes, and if you don't show up on time, your company is going to be so upset. You try and explain as quickly as possible. As she sits there and listens to you, you finally realize that maybe your kids are in on it all together and are waiting for the perfect moment to expose you. Too many people are going to know, and you know Bruce would kill you- even worse, potentially divorce you- if he found out. She signs something that allows your shoulders to finally relax.

Dick catches you fifth. He’s more disappointed than angry, in reality. Damian had confessed to him in a bit of panic when you hadn’t returned to the Manor after a few hours of being gone. Dick had cornered you in your study as you were finishing a few additional work papers the next day. He demanded to know why you were doing it, if Bruce’s happiness wasn’t enough for you, or if you wanted to send the man to an early grave. You could tell Dick is hurt, and you feel more guilty than you ever had before. You hadn’t taken into account the feelings of your own kids until this conversation. You know your begging doesn’t work on your oldest; he learned his puppy dog eyes from you, and they’re not very effective when used on each other. Instead, you offer him another solution as an explanation enough. He begrudgingly agrees and follows you out of the manor. A few hours later, Dick is breathless, yet still promises to keep his mouth shut for the time being.

When Bruce finally catches you, he’s shocked, to say the least. Devastated at best. “You’ve got to be joking.” He’s standing in the middle of the Batcave, sans any and all gear or kevlar. Damn, you had really banked on the Batman being in Metropolis tonight. “I can explain, I promise!” You have the thought to tell him how good he looks in gray sweatpants, but his face is contorted in anger. “How long has this been going on? How many times?” He’s circling you in that predator way that you’ve seen Batman circle villains on the street. You can do nothing but toy with the hem of your shirt that still smells like gasoline and the outside winter air. You sit in the chair next to the Batcycle, the heat of the motor singing a few hairs on your arm. You had finally been caught, by Bruce, nonetheless. He is for sure going to divorce you; death would be too kind. You explain what has been going on, and like too good of a man, he listens until you are finished speaking. Bruce calls each of your kids to the cave. When they finally arrive, Bruce demands the truth. To their credit, not one of them lies, and they confirm your story.

“Hold on.” He stops them from speaking as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “You’re standing there, telling me, that my wife- my wife with almost no training- has been going out at night in the military-grade vehicles specifically made for fighting crime, for months, and not a single one of you was going to tell me?” You didn't think you had the heart to tell him it was closer to a year. Damian spoke though. “Father, I found her after taking the Batcopter a few months ago.” You couldn’t sleep that night while Bruce was patrolling, so you took the helicopter to Wayne Enterprises to get a few things of work done. It wasn’t the first time you had stolen one of the many vehicles Batman hoards, but it was the first time you had gotten caught. Bruce’s eyes are digging into you, and you do feel a little guilty now for not telling him any of this. Jason yells from across the cave. “She had the Batmobile across town.” You had taken the tumbler out to go meet Lucius for a few improvements to the vehicle’s controls; the brake was sticking and you knew it would cause problems for Bruce eventually. You could see Jason’s shit-eating grin from your seat. Bruce held his head with both hands now. “We switched out the tires, too old man.” Tim didn’t even look up from the computer. “Batplane. She flew to Jamaica and back a couple weeks ago.” Bruce whips his head to you. “Alfred said he needed jerk spice, and you know he only likes the traditional kind from the stores in Kingston!” You cry. Cassandra is only sitting on the boat, which is confirmation enough for Bruce as he turns her way. She had been sitting in the boat cabin while you crossed the Delaware Bay to visit Metropolis for a happy hour with Lois and Diana. You let Cassandra drive the boat back while you talked about your night with the other women. Dick calls out finally. “B, I was going to tell you after I caught her with the motorcycle.” Bruce throws his arms up as he knows that a contrasting statement is coming. You crack a small smile when it does. “But she challenged me to a race, and I couldn’t say no. She beat me across town, and the punishment for not winning was keeping quiet. That was a few days ago.” Bruce lets out a mirthless laugh before turning back to you. You give your husband of nearly two decades a sheepish grin. He comes over and drops to squat before you. He takes your left hand where your wedding band proudly sits on your ring finger. He toys with it for a second before turning your hand over and kissing your palm. He sighs dejectedly and lifts his head to kiss you properly. “You should have told me. I would have made time to make sure things were safe.” “I didn’t want to worry you. Also, I can take care of myself with my minimum training." You kiss his nose so that he stops scrunching it. "Besides, be proud that our children worked together to help me keep this secret to maintain your sanity. We love you, just remember that." “So you told everyone but me and Alfred?” You wince, and the movement makes Bruce slap his forehead. He mutters something small beneath his breath that sounds an awful lot like a prayer. “Alfred might have been the one who gave me the keys for everything.”

#dc fanfic #robinsdearest #bruce wayne x batmom #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne #batman fanfic #alfred is an enabler at his core #of course batmom knows how to drive every single vehicle

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elysiumania · 10 months

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title: carve it to the end pairing(s): blade, reader characters: blade, reader, kafka, silver wolf word count: 9.8k+ synopsis: blade is familiar with the profound sin that encompasses his entire existence, yet he never anticipated that a whirlwind of emotions for you would also ensnare him.

In the midst of your daring mission, you and Blade find yourselves separated from Kafka and Silver Wolf, who have been entrusted with the crucial task of retrieving the coveted stellaron from the clutches of the world's sovereign. This scenario is all too familiar, as Elio, your mysterious leader, often assigns you such missions to procure the stellaron from different worlds.

The urgency of the situation is palpable, as Elio's command weighs heavily on your shoulders. Time is of the essence, and the success of your mission depends on each member's unwavering focus and commitment.

The world you find yourselves entrenched in is a labyrinth of mysteries and dangers. Its atmosphere crackles with an otherworldly energy, its landscapes a juxtaposition of ethereal beauty and imminent peril. Shadows dance along the twisted paths, hinting at lurking threats that could emerge at any moment.

In the heart of the battlefield, you and Blade move with an elegant synchrony, your every action an evidence to the rigorous training and discipline that you both possess. Your movements are precise, your coordination seamless, as if you were two halves of a single entity, united by a common purpose.

Every movement is deliberate, calculated, as you swiftly evade the oncoming strikes and launch devastating counterattacks. The air is charged with a palpable tension, your senses heightened to their fullest extent.

Time seems to slow down. Your world narrows to the immediate threat before you, the rest of the battlefield fading into the periphery. The only sound you hear is the clash of steel, the rhythmic pounding of your heart, and the rhythmic breaths you take in tandem with each movement. There is a singular purpose that drives you forward – the complete annihilation of your enemies.

In a swift turn of your body, you witness Blade parry the bullets fired to him.

Blade's presence on the battlefield is truly formidable, exuding an aura of power and confidence that commands respect. Every swing of his blade is executed with calculated precision, a dance of lethal elegance. His movements are fluid and swift, as if he were an extension of his weapon, effortlessly cutting through adversaries with a deadly efficiency.

There is a raw intensity to his fighting style, a controlled ferocity that sends shivers down your spine. He is like a force of nature, untamed and relentless, his strikes landing with devastating impact. It is a sight to behold, the embodiment of a warrior at the peak of his skill and strength.

However, amidst the chaos and violence, you can discern a meticulousness in Blade's approach. His attacks are not haphazard or reckless, but rather purposeful and strategic. He anticipates his opponents' moves, parrying and countering with calculated precision. His reflexes are honed to a razor's edge, allowing him to seamlessly transition from defense to offense, leaving little room for his enemies to counterattack.

You, too, are a force to be reckoned with. Your reflexes are honed to perfection, your aim unerring as you unleash a hail of bullets, each shot finding its mark with lethal precision. Your training and experience have molded you into a formidable combatant, a force that strikes fear into the hearts of your enemies. Your focus is steady, your concentration laser-sharp as you analyze every opponent, calculating their weaknesses and exploiting them with ruthless efficiency.

As the battle wears on, a sense of fatigue begins to creep into your limbs. The adrenaline that fueled your movements earlier starts to wane, and you feel the weight of exhaustion settle upon you. Your breath becomes labored, each inhale a struggle as you try to replenish the oxygen needed to sustain your efforts.

The once effortless movements now require a conscious effort, each swing of your weapon feeling heavier than before. Your muscles ache, protesting the relentless strain placed upon them. But you push through the discomfort, your determination overriding the physical toll on your body.

With every passing moment, your stamina diminishes further. The pace of your strikes and evasions slows, each action requiring a greater expenditure of energy. Your once precise and fluid movements become more sluggish, the gaps in your defenses more apparent. But you refuse to yield, knowing that the moment you falter could spell disaster.

Your breaths become audible, each exhalation a visible cloud in the cold air. Beads of sweat drip down your brow, stinging your eyes as you struggle to maintain focus. The weight of exhaustion settles, threatening to drag you down. Yet, you find solace in the knowledge that you are not alone in this battle.

Despite the weariness that seeps into your bones, your pride and determination refuse to waver. You cannot bear the thought of leaving the burden solely to Blade, for that would make you vulnerable at a crucial moment. You know that victory in this battle depends on your firm presence and contribution.

As the enemy forces thin, a surge of determination courses through your veins. You can taste victory within reach, a tantalizing prospect that fuels your resolve. With renewed focus, you rally your remaining energy, striking back with a newfound ferocity. Each blow is a testament to your unyielding spirit, a defiance against the constraints of your weariness.

And finally, as the last enemy falls to the ground, a moment of stillness descends upon the battlefield. The air is heavy with the scent of blood and sweat, mingled with the unmistakable aura of victory. You stand amidst the fallen, your breaths coming in heaves, your body weary and battered. But within the exhaustion, there is a sense of triumph, an indomitable spirit that refuses to be defeated.

Every breath you took came with labor, as if each inhale and exhale required a monumental effort. Weary and fatigued, you turned your body to face Blade, whose face remained unblemished, betraying no signs of exhaustion or weariness. It was as if he had not engaged in the grueling battle that had left you drained and depleted.

Amazement and admiration swirled within you, mingling to form a chuckle that escaped your lips. You marveled at the strength embodied by your steadfast co-hunter, a strength that defied mortal limitations. The question lingered in your mind: Was this unwavering perseverance an inherent gift of his immortality?

Envy welled within you, a gnawing ache that intensified with each passing moment. It stemmed from Blade's indomitable will, his resolute determination that propelled him forward in the treacherous landscape of the battlefield. Yet, you couldn't help but be acutely aware that this very essence of strength—the enduring spirit that coursed through his veins—was also the source of his burden, one he carried with stoic grace.

Blade's eyes, intense and piercing, locked onto yours, their gaze penetrating through the facade of nonchalance he wore. A subtle furrow appeared between his brows. With each measured step, he closed the distance between you.

Your vision blurred, and the world around you transformed into a swirling haze, dissolving the boundaries between Blade and the backdrop. Amidst this kaleidoscope of colors, it was Blade's familiar hues that remained distinct, serving as a steadfast anchor amidst the chaotic whirlwind.

"(Name)," his voice called out, urgency lacing his tone, but you found yourself incapable of responding. Your focus shifted inward, drawn to the state of your own well-being. Fatigue clawed at your limbs, a relentless heaviness weighing down every movement, while a disorienting fuzziness clouded your thoughts.

Your body swayed, a mere puppet succumbing to the invisible forces tugging at your senses. Before comprehending the full extent of your unraveling consciousness, strong arms encircled your waist, pulling you into a tight embrace. The hold was both protective and firm, a lifeline anchoring you as you teetered on the precipice of unconsciousness.

With a final shuddering breath, the world around you faded into an all-encompassing darkness, your awareness slipping away like sand through your fingertips.

Blade's intense gaze remained fixed upon you, his eyes bearing witness to the toll that your relentless battles had taken on your weary form. He understood the limits that you, his trusted comrade, bore as a fellow hunter. Countless enemies had tested your stamina, their sheer numbers depleting your reserves as you confronted them head-on, side by side.

The signs of exhaustion were evident in the lousiness of your movements, your shoulders rising and falling in an irregular manner. Each breath became a heavy burden, weighing upon your chest. Your once fluid motions had begun to falter, slowing as weariness claimed its hold. Yet, even in the face of these challenges, you stood resolute, confronting the onslaught with dedication.

Finally, the last of your adversaries had been vanquished, leaving only stillness in their wake. Blade, ever vigilant, turned his attention towards you without delay. His piercing gaze met your weary countenance, observing a vulnerability that was unfamiliar to him. The customary smile that you often flashed at him, one that had grated his nerves in the past, was now replaced by a weariness he had not witnessed before—a new encounter, a glimpse of your fragility.

He approached you, his strides purposeful and deliberate, calling out your name to capture your attention. Yet, you remained lost in your own thoughts, your gaze fixated upon the ground as if oblivious to his voice. Sensing your imminent collapse, Blade's instincts kicked in, honed from years of battles fought side by side.

With remarkable swiftness, Blade extended his arm, snaking it around your waist, pulling you tightly against his chest. The impact of his swift action halted your impending fall, providing a secure anchor within the shelter of his embrace.

An irritated expression twisted Blade's features, his countenance marred by displeasure as he clicked his tongue in disapproval upon witnessing the vulnerability you now displayed. A flicker of annoyance danced within him, tugging at the corners of his being, yet an inexplicable flutter of something else lingered momentarily, a fleeting sensation that he swiftly dismissed.

He listened intently, attuned to the barely audible sound of your breathing, attesting to the rise and fall of your chest. Blade was certain that your slumber was merely a consequence of the relentless fatigue that accompanied the arduous battle you had endured. Letting out a sigh, he adjusted his stance, shifting his weight to better support you and ensure your comfort.

In the stillness, the sound of approaching footsteps broke the silence. Blade turned his gaze over his shoulder, catching sight of Kafka and Silver Wolf making their way toward him. A mischievous smirk adorned Kafka's face as her eyes fixated upon the curious and unusual scene unfolding before her.

"What happened to (Name)?" Silver Wolf inquired, her tone tinged with curiosity as she observed Blade and the slumbering figure in his arms.

"Fatigue," Blade responded curtly, his voice devoid of any elaboration.

"Oh? Did you encounter a formidable number of enemies then?" Kafka interjected with amusement. "It has been quite some time since I've seen (Name) exhausted to this extent. She usually dispatches her adversaries with impressive swiftness."

Blade chose not to respond to Kafka's remark, his gaze drifting down to your peaceful form nestled against his chest. The lines of fatigue that etched your face seemed to soften, revealing a vulnerability that was rarely witnessed. It was a sight that both intrigued and unsettled him, stirring emotions he struggled to comprehend.

"However, this scene is undoubtedly worth witnessing and quite rare.”

Blade's irritation grew as Kafka's words rang in his ears, emphasizing the rarity and significance of the scene unfolding before them. He groaned audibly, sensing the intrusion of his co-hunters into this trivial moment.

However, his annoyance escalated to exasperation as the sound of a shutter reached his ears, followed by the realization that Silver Wolf had captured a photograph of you both in your vulnerable state.

"I will send this photo to (Name)," the hacker announced, her fingers swiftly tapping on her phone to carry out her plan.

His head snapped towards his co-hunters, a glare burning in his eyes as he observed Silver Wolf holding her phone aloft, a mischievous and amused grin etched upon Kafka's face as she stood beside her, hand confidently placed on her hips.

A deep groan escaped Blade's lips, a resounding protest against the audacity of their endeavor. The boundaries of privacy seemed to blur in their presence, and he found himself grappling with the precarious balance between camaraderie and personal space.

Unperturbed by Blade's disapproval, Silver Wolf announced her intention to send the captured photo to you, her fingers tapping on her phone to execute the plan. Kafka's amusement was evident in her voice, reveling in the presumed surprise that awaited you upon awakening to a barrage of messages.

"She will be bombarded with this photo as soon as she awakens," Kafka chuckled, relishing the anticipation she held within her mischievous gaze. Her words danced with a mixture of presumption and amusement, an implicit belief that the outcome would be nothing short of entertaining.

As Silver Wolf scrutinized the sent photo, her sharp eyes honed in on a particular detail that caught her attention. With a sense of urgency, she zoomed in on the image, focusing on your arm. A splotch of crimson stood out, a telltale sign of blood trickling down your skin. Instantly, she relayed the concerning discovery to her companions.

"I believe it's imperative that we return to headquarters and bring (Name) to the healer without delay," Silver Wolf suggested, her tone laced with genuine concern. As she faced the perplexed expressions of her companions, she clarified her reasoning. "I noticed blood on her arm in the photo. It's possible she sustained a wound during the battle."

Blade's gaze snapped towards you, his attention immediately drawn to the area where the hacker had spotted the alarming sight. His eyes scanned your slumbering form, searching for any evidence of injury. And there, peeking out from the side of your arm, he spotted the crimson stain, smearing his own sleeves with your blood. A huff of frustration escaped his lips, mingled with a tinge of exasperation.

He couldn't help but ruminate on the recklessness that often coursed through you, the audacity with which you faced danger.

Indignation surged within Blade, rising like a tempest within his chest as he contemplated the dire consequences of your actions. While he grudgingly acknowledged his own tendency for recklessness, a belief that his immortal nature would allow him to withstand wounds and slashes with ease, he recognized the stark contrast in your vulnerability. You did not possess the gift-like-curse of immortality, and the wounds you sustained held the potential for far graver repercussions.

Devising meticulous plans, carefully assessing the movements and intentions of your enemies, had always been the cornerstone of Blade's approach to victory. It was a calculated dance, a strategic ballet that he had honed over time.

Yet, what gnawed at Blade's core, sparking the ember of irritation within him, was the unsettling realization that he was irked by your recklessness. It should not concern him if you were to meet your demise on the battlefield. After all, death had been his elusive pursuit, an ever-present companion lurking in the recesses of his existence, a catchphrase that easily rolled off his tongue. It was a facet of his other self, one he had sought to embrace yet had never fully attained.

And yet, the bitter taste that lingered on the tip of his tongue, the annoyance that prickled beneath his skin, betrayed a profound unease at the thought of your death. It was an incongruity that bewildered him, challenging his steadfast commitment to detachment. How could you, someone he had never truly regarded beyond the confines of a fellow hunter, stir within him such distaste for the inevitability of death?

Blade grappled with the paradox, his irritation growing in intensity. The disconcerting reality of his emotions cast a veil of unease upon his otherwise steadfast resolve. The boundaries that he had carefully constructed, separating himself from the lives of others, seemed to blur in your presence.

It was an annoyance that Blade struggled to comprehend, an unwelcome intrusion upon his carefully cultivated existence.

"We must hurry, for there may be more adversaries in our path," Kafka suggested, her voice grained with urgency.

In response, Blade swiftly and effortlessly scooped you up, cradling you in his arms with practiced ease—his hands supporting your knees and shoulders—before the trio embarked towards the waiting ship.

Their hurried footsteps resonated in unison. With every stride, Blade's focus remained fixed upon the precious cargo he carried, ensuring your safety as they made their way to the ship that would transport them to their destination.

Upon reaching their destination, Blade carefully set you down upon the bed in the clinic, relinquishing his hold as the healer swiftly took charge. His piercing gaze lingered upon you for a fleeting moment before he pivoted on his heel, preparing to depart the room.

“You’re leaving?”

Kafka's sudden question halted Blade in his tracks, prompting him to turn his gaze toward her. A hint of curiosity flickered in his eyes, awaiting her explanation.

"There's no need for me to linger here," he stated matter-of-factly.

"You're not going to look after (Name)?"

The inquiry caused his eyebrow to arch in mild confusion. "And why should I do that?"

"You already know that yourself, Bladie," she stated with a playful tone and a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Blade's frown deepened, his irritation bubbling to the surface.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he retorted, a note of finality in his voice. "And I have no interest in delving into whatever it is."

With that, Blade turned away, cutting off any further discussion. His steps carried him away from the room, leaving behind the enigmatic conversation. But, even as he walked away, the lingering words and insinuations gnawed at the edges of his thoughts, an unwelcome intrusion into his otherwise focused mind.

Blade found himself genuinely perplexed by Kafka's implications, unable to grasp the underlying meaning of her words. However, he couldn't deny the undeniable truth that it irritated him when it pertained to you. From the very beginning, since the moment you had invaded his mind, you had become a persistent presence, governing his thoughts and actions through your infuriating actions.

Within the recesses of his being, a tempestuous whirlwind raged, its origins elusive, its nature enigmatic. It swept through his soul, stirring up a maelstrom of emotions that clashed and clashed like thunderous waves against rugged cliffs. It was as if a churning vortex had taken residence within him, disrupting the tranquility he had come to know.

This enigmatic sensation, like a riddle without a solution, perplexed him, refusing to be neatly categorized or defined. It twisted and turned, defying his attempts to grasp its essence, teasing him with fleeting glimpses of comprehension before slipping away like smoke through his fingertips. It was a phantom, taunting him with its complex nature.

This inexplicable connection with you contradicted his stoic nature, defying the boundaries he had meticulously established to safeguard his emotions. The turbulence it caused within him was an unwelcome disruption, disturbing the delicate equilibrium he had carefully maintained for so long. Yet, despite his disdain for this unfamiliar sentiment, he couldn't escape its hold.

For now, Blade chose to bury those uncertainties, channeling his focus back to the tasks at hand. The path of a hunter was one fraught with danger and uncertainty, and he couldn't allow himself to be swayed by unexplained sentiments. With a steady stride, he continued his journey, suppressing the whisper of concern that followed in his wake.

“We have a new member in our team,” Kafka announced, looking at her side where a woman stood. “This is (Name). She will join as soon as Elio instructs us.”

As Kafka made the announcement, introducing you as the newest member of their team, your presence drew the attention of the group. All eyes turned towards you, including Blade's, who observed the exchange with a stoic expression.

Silver Wolf, brimming with an air of confidence, rose from her seat and approached you and Kafka. She introduced herself with a cool demeanor, extending her hand for a formal handshake. You reciprocate the gesture, a warm smile gracing your lips as you accept her greeting.

"(Name). I am pleased to meet you," you replied, your tone reflecting sincerity and openness.

Beside her, Kafka took it upon herself to introduce Blade, her words tinged with a hint of playful warning.

"And this is Blade. He's got a few quirks, but he's a pretty decent guy. Just make sure you don't rub him the wrong way. But please beware around him," Kafka introduces him on his behalf, with a casual tone.

She conveyed his complexities, acknowledging the challenges that might arise when interacting with him. Blade simply nodded in acknowledgment, his gaze steady as he absorbed the introductions.

Taking the initiative, you extended your hand towards Blade, your gesture mirroring the earlier exchange between Silver Wolf and yourself. With a gentle smile, you spoke, voicing your hope to maintain a positive rapport.

"Blade, it's a pleasure to meet you too. I hope I can avoid getting on your bad side," you said with genuine sincerity, the sparkle in your eyes hinting at your lightheartedness.

Rather than accepting your extended hand, Blade's reaction was one of dismissiveness and disdain. He emitted a snort of irritation before abruptly turning his back to you, retreating to his designated place. It was a deliberate gesture, a clear message that he had no intention of entertaining any further interaction or connection with you.

From that moment onward, a peculiar dynamic unfolded between you and Blade. The intensity of your gaze, your unwavering attention directed towards him, became a persistent source of irritation and anger. It was as if your eyes bore into his very being, their weight an ever-present reminder of your presence.

Whether in the midst of missions or within the confines of the headquarters, your stares persisted, unabated and noticeable. It was a lack of discretion that only heightened his vexation, making it impossible for him to ignore the density of your steady focus.

Initially, Blade had chosen to overlook your behavior, granting you the benefit of the doubt and assuming that it would soon wane or change. He had granted you his patience and considered it a passing phase, a temporary inconvenience. However, as the days wore on and your behavior remained unchanged, frustration welled within him, igniting a simmering anger that threatened to boil over.

He had expected the glue-like hold you seemed to have on him to loosen, to fade away. Yet, to his dismay, it clung to him with unrelenting persistence, defying his attempts to shake it off. The irritation stirred within him, his patience waning, as the boundary of tolerance grew thinner with each passing moment.

The sudden aggression in Blade's actions shattered the fragile calm that had previously enveloped the hallway. The forceful slam against the wall resonated through the confined space, echoing with a resounding intensity. His arms flanked your head, his piercing gaze meeting your bewildered self with an unsettling mix of intensity and rage.

Caught off guard, you found yourself pinned against the unyielding surface, your movement restricted by the sheer force of Blade's hold. The abrupt halt in your path to your room left you suspended in a moment of uncertainty, as you struggled to comprehend the reason behind his unexpected and aggressive actions.

“What is your scheme, huh?”

His voice, husky yet dangerous, sliced through the air like a blade. His inquiry demanded answers, seeking to unravel the motivations behind your actions, or perhaps to assert dominance over the situation. The solemnity of his words filled the space, leaving little room for evasion or half-truths.

As Blade's intense gaze bore into your own, his indignation smoldered beneath the surface. The innocence reflected in your eyes, an aspect he vehemently abhorred, only served to further stoke the flames of his anger. It was a stark contrast to his own nature, an antithesis that rankled against his very being.

You responded, your voice steady yet laced with a hint of composure.

"I don't know what you're talking about," you declared, your words echoing in the tense atmosphere.

Blade's growl reverberated through the air, a primal display of dominance and power. The impact of his hands against the wall echoed his warning, a reminder of what he was capable of should he be further provoked. But, despite his fearsome actions, you remained steadfast, your unwavering gaze fixed upon him, as if seeking to untangle the enigma that resided within his soul.

His voice, dripping with darkness and cruelty, lashed out at you, laying bare his frustrations. The intensity of his stare pierced through you, the weight of his words bearing down upon your shoulders. He acknowledged the patience he had shown thus far, acknowledging the restraint he had exercised in the face of your relentless scrutiny.

"You have persistently fixed your gaze upon me, which has been rather vexing. Consider yourself fortunate that, despite my reputation for impatience, I have displayed remarkable restraint and refrained from terminating your existence due to your incessant and intrusive stares."

In response to his threat, you remained resolute, your voice steady as you spoke. "Then, I am thankful that you haven't taken my life yet.”

“Tell me a plausible reason to refrain myself from ending you.”

"I want to know more about you," you admitted, your voice holding a mixture of curiosity and determination. It was a risky statement, one that defied his expectations and pushed the boundaries of his guarded existence.

His piercing gaze bore into you, intensifying with disbelief and a hint of warning. The depths of his glare seemed to echo a sense of cruelty and danger, as if he dared you to challenge his skepticism.

"Don't test me," he scowled, his voice laced with an edge of threat.

"I beg to differ," you retort. "You remain an enigma to me, a puzzle that has piqued my curiosity. It was relatively effortless for me to become acquainted with Kafka and the others, but you, on the other hand, prove to be a unique challenge. Perhaps it is your distant and aloof nature that sets you apart, or perhaps there are deeper underlying factors at play."

"You previously mentioned your desire to avoid antagonizing me, yet it appears that you have now succeeded in doing so."

Blade's words dripped with venom, his threat drifting through the charged atmosphere. The darkness that shrouded him threatened to consume the space between you, leaving little room for leniency or understanding. It was clear that he believed you had crossed a line, evoking the wrath of his ire.

With a heavy sigh, you faced him without fear.

Blade's disbelief was palpable, his features contorted in a mix of incredulity and frustration. His eyebrows furrowed deeply, and his clenched jaw revealed the inner turmoil as he fought to rein in his rising anger. With one final glare, he abruptly withdrew his body, releasing you from the oppressive presence he had imposed upon you.

"Your reasons for joining the Stellaron hunters are not my concern," he declared, his voice laced with an undeniable edge of irritation. "Keep your intrusive curiosity to yourself and refrain from bothering others. I have no interest in knowing anything about anyone, including you."

The finality in his words echoed through the space, underscoring his disinterest in delving into matters beyond the immediate scope of their shared mission. It was a clear message, signaling that further attempts to breach the walls he had erected would be met with resistance and hostility.

With that, Blade turned away, leaving you to absorb the weight of his rejection and the boundaries he had firmly established. The tension between you hung in the air, an unspoken barrier that seemed insurmountable.

As he strode off, a cold and distant aura enveloped him, shielding him from the intrusions of curiosity and connection that you had attempted to breach.

The surreptitious glances you cast in Blade's direction did not escape notice, despite his prior warnings and threat. Nonetheless, he begrudgingly acknowledged that the frequency of those glances had diminished compared to earlier encounters. When accompanying other hunters on missions, it granted Blade a fleeting respite, a temporary reprieve from the occasional scrutinizing gazes that seemed to dissect him from afar.

Yet, upon your return, you would invariably greet him with an amiable smile and a friendly wave, seemingly oblivious to his prior admonitions. Blade, resolute in maintaining his distance, opted for complete disregard, refusing to acknowledge your presence or partake in any form of interaction.

However, when circumstances dictated that the two of you found yourselves on the same mission, the task became increasingly burdensome for Blade. Not due to any perceived deficiency on your part, but rather because of the unyielding intensity of your penetrating stares. They bore into him, as if endeavoring to unravel the enigmatic cloak that enveloped his very essence.

In response, Blade's glare would intensify, a lethal warning etched within his gaze. It stood as a silent plea for you to desist in your unyielding observation, a plea that fell upon deaf ears. Despite his explicit caution, you persisted in your pursuit, undeterred by his unspoken signals.

There arrived a moment when Blade's anger and irritation reached a boiling point, overpowering his self-restraint. In an uncontrollable surge of rage, he found himself unsheathing his sword, employing it as a tangible manifestation of his pent-up emotions. It was a perilous act, a palpable reflection of his internal struggle, as he fought to regain dominion over himself in the face of your relentless actions.

However, even in light of his aggression, you remained undeterred, unflinching in the face of the menace he presented. The clash between the two of you transformed into a battle of wills, an unyielding pursuit on your part juxtaposed with his unwavering resistance. The tension between you surged, leaving behind a trail of disquietude and exasperation in its wake.

Intrigued by Kafka's insatiable curiosity, she felt compelled to confront Blade about his abrupt outburst. Approaching him with a mixture of fascination and concern, her voice held a subtle undertone of intrigue, as she sought to crack the reason behind his aggressive actions.

"Why did you resort to such measures, Bladie?" she inquired, her tone infused with genuine curiosity.

The embers of Blade's anger still smoldered within him, evident in the acerbic manner in which he delivered his words.

"That woman certainly knows how to stoke the fires of my fury," he growled, bitterness dripping from his voice.

Kafka's eyes narrowed, fixating on Blade intently. She meticulously assessed the situation, scouring for any visible signs of harm inflicted upon him, only to find none. There had to be a catalyst, a trigger that had prompted such an instinctive and volatile response from him.

Based on her astute observations, Kafka deduced that your actions had not warranted such an aggressive reaction. Puzzlement tinged her words as she probed deeper, yearning for clarity.

"From what I witnessed, (Name) did nothing to incite your anger. Or am I missing something?"

Blade's head snapped towards Kafka, his forehead furrowing with a blend of frustration and defensiveness.

"She persisted with those vexing stares, despite my explicit warning," he retorted.

A playful spark flickered within Kafka's eyes as she observed Blade, a subtle amusement tugging at the corners of her lips.

"Ah, I comprehend now," she replied, a trace of understanding seeping into her voice. "So, that is the crux of the matter."

Blade huffed, his frustration unabated. "If she refuses to desist, I shall not hesitate to end her myself," he declared, his words carrying an icy finality.

Kafka's amusement only intensified, her expression transforming into one of playful intrigue. She appeared to find the entire situation rather entertaining, studying Blade with a blend of fascination and amusement. It was evident that she had gleaned something deeper from the intricate dynamics between you and Blade, something that transcended mere annoyance.

With the threat hanging palpably in the air, the tension between you and Blade reached an unprecedented apex, the consequences of your unyielding stares teetering on treacherous ground. The ball now rested in your court, presenting you with a pivotal choice – either relent and abandon this perilous path or persist with an unwavering determination, willing to face the consequences that lay in wait.

The passage of time transformed weeks into months, and yet, there remained no trace of your return from the mission undertaken alongside Kafka. Blade found himself ensnared in an unfamiliar state of tranquility, relishing in the absence of your persistent stares. Initially expecting your reappearance after a mere week, he had braced himself for the resumption of your penetrating gaze. However, the passing months painted a contrasting picture, shrouding your whereabouts in mystery.

Inquiries gnawed at the fringes of Blade's consciousness. Could the mission truly detain you for such an extensive duration? It seemed implausible that you and Kafka, both formidable in your own right, would succumb to failure or meet your demise at the hands of adversaries. Blade intimately understood the strength and cunning of his comrades. Furthermore, the absence of any official proclamations from Elio only heightened his conviction that your mission endured.

Despite his profound antipathy towards you, Blade could not dismiss your capabilities. He was not petty enough to overlook or disregard the skills of another, even if he harbored personal disdain. Reluctantly, he acknowledged your competence, recognizing that you were not to be underestimated.

Yet, amidst the tranquil days, thoughts of you infiltrated Blade's mind akin to an unyielding anchor rooted deep within the ocean floor. Rare was the occasion when he allowed himself to be consumed by thoughts of another, especially one who irked him to the core. The frustration and anger that simmered within him escalated with each passing day, a constant reminder of the enigma you had become in his existence.

Blade grappled with reconciling these conflicting emotions, struggling to comprehend why you had managed to etch yourself so indelibly in his thoughts. He battled against his own resistance, resenting the intrusion of your presence monopolizing his mind. It was a vexing state of affairs, leaving him wrestling with an amalgamation of sentiments he had long sought to suppress.

As the months gradually wore on, Blade found himself increasingly exasperated by the lingering presence of your memory within his thoughts. The weight of your existence persisted like an anchor, impeding the tranquility of his mind. It posed an enigma that defied resolution, a puzzle that exasperated him to no end.

Blade's ruminations incessantly revolved around the void created by your absence, compelling him to ponder over the intricacies of your mission and the current state of affairs. Despite having access to the contact information of all the Stellaron hunters, he deliberately abstained from possessing any trace of your details. The contempt he nurtured towards your presence rendered any form of direct communication superfluous in his discerning eyes.

His inclinations inclined towards solitude and seclusion, seldom initiating contact with his fellow hunters unless exigencies dictated such action. He refrained from extending his reach to others or responding to their messages unless they pertain directly to the ongoing missions at hand. Blade discerned no necessity for casual conversations or trivial exchanges that deviated from the intended purpose.

"I am aware that your perpetual annoyance and anger are constants, but on this occasion, they seem to possess a heightened potency compared to prior instances, even in the absence of any discernible source of provocation," Silver Wolf remarked, her voice resounding within their customary resting room. Engrossed in her gaming pursuits, she paused momentarily after completing a round.

Blade cast a sidelong glance at her, his irritation apparent. However, he chose to remain silent, maintaining his comfortable position on the couch as his gaze reverted to fixating upon the aquarium wall situated before him.

"Even in your current relaxed state, I can sense the presence of your simmering irritation permeating the room, you're aware of that, aren't you?"

Silver Wolf let out a sigh of resignation, her shoulders slumping in response to Blade's unresponsive demeanor. But just as the air left her lungs, a familiar sound filled the air, slicing through the silence—her phone's ringing tone. It was Kafka on the line, and without hesitation, she swiftly accepted the call.

"Hey."

"Hello, Silver Wolf! I'm out shopping today since it's our well-deserved rest day for both (Name) and I."

Silver Wolf caught a movement from the corner of her eye, prompting her to turn her head and meet Blade's gaze. He had straightened his posture on the couch from his relaxed position, his attention now fixated on her. A shift in his demeanor was apparent; he seemed alert and engaged as he observed Kafka's video call.

"When will you be back?" the hacker inquired.

"I'm still waiting for Elio's instructions. He mentioned that we should remain here for a while longer, as there's an upcoming mission on the horizon."

"And where's (Name)?"

A soft rustling sound reached Silver Wolf's ears once more, drawing her attention. Her gaze shifted to Blade, noting the subtle change in his posture. He now leaned forward, his upper body hunched over with elbows resting on his knees, his hands intertwined together. His focused stance mirrored his intent, as if he hung onto every word exchanged during the conversation.

"(Name) is currently recuperating in a small hospital. She sustained an injury during our mission, though thankfully, it isn't too severe.”

"Tell her to rest well.”

"Of course.”

With the call concluded, she pocketed her phone and shifted her gaze towards Blade, her eyes searching for any trace of empathy or understanding. Yet, his response was a mere scoff, accompanied by a dismissive comment.

"Weak," he uttered, his tone laced with disdain and Silver Wolf only released a defeated sigh.

With the homecoming of weary hunters, an air of relief and delight enveloped the headquarters. Genuine smiles adorned the faces of Silver Wolf and their comrades, manifesting their sincere joy as they warmly welcomed your return from the arduous mission. The unity and camaraderie among the team were palpable, tangible evidence of the bonds forged through shared trials and tribulations.

Blade trailed behind Silver Wolf, observing the scene with a detached interest. His gaze fleetingly brushed over the joyful countenances and animated conversations, until it settled upon you—the very source of his vexation. There you stood, radiant with an effusive grin, your hand extended in a friendly wave.

In that moment, an unfamiliar warmth stirred within Blade, threatening to breach the fortress he had meticulously erected around his emotions. It was a sensation alien and disconcerting, a stark departure from his accustomed state of detached coldness. Its presence vexed him to no end, this inexplicable emergence of nascent sentiments that simmered just beneath the surface.

He endeavored to quell the burgeoning warmth, dismissing it as a transient aberration in his otherwise composed and chaotic existence. Yet, with each subsequent encounter, every instance where your firm gaze locked onto him, the intensity of this sensation surged, chipping away at his steely resolve. Frustration surged within him, further aggravating the already tempestuous storm of his emotions.

Blade fought against the onslaught of these unfamiliar sentiments, unwilling to succumb to their influence. He clung to the familiarity of his annoyance, his irritation serving as a shield against the disconcerting stirrings within his heart. But deep down, he knew that ignoring these feelings would only fuel their fire, intensifying the turmoil he sought so desperately to quell.

As the days unfolded and your presence remained a constant in his life, Blade found himself increasingly entangled in a web of conflicting emotions. The war between his irritation and the burgeoning warmth waged on, leaving him with a sense of frustration and a growing awareness of the enigma you had become to him.

In the midst of the chaotic battlefield, where danger lurked at every turn, a pivotal moment unfolded that would test the depths of your connection. As the clash of weapons echoed around you, a swift and unexpected strike found its mark, piercing Blade's chest with a searing pain.

In that instant, your instinctual response kicked in, overriding any fear or hesitation that threatened to consume you. With unwavering determination, you raced towards Blade, your steps propelled by a surge of panic and concern. The gravity of the situation urged you to act swiftly, to protect him from further harm.

Despite the formidable adversaries that interposed themselves along your path, your singular focus remained unwaveringly fixed upon your wounded comrade. Each opponent that dared to obstruct your passage fell swiftly and decisively to your calculated strikes. Guided by a relentless sense of urgency, you traversed the battlefield with unwavering resolve, your purpose anchored in reaching Blade's side and attending to his injuries.

Finally arriving at his side, your hands descended upon his wounded chest with an unyielding grip. Worry danced upon your countenance, etching a crease upon your brow and compelling your teeth to gnaw on your lip. Clutching a tightly held handkerchief, you applied firm pressure to his wound, striving to staunch the torrent of blood that threatened to steal his vitality.

Blade, despite his internal resistance to your ministrations, could not help but perceive the genuine concern etched across your visage. The furrowed brows, the resolve that emanated from your eyes, and the sheer intensity of your actions conveyed volumes, surpassing the need for any spoken words in that critical juncture.

"Blade, we must attend to this injury quickly!"

Your voice quivered with genuine concern and panic, causing Blade to momentarily recoil, caught off guard by the sincerity emanating from your words. The urgency in your voice and the unmistakable tremor in your tone pierced through his defenses, reaching a dormant place within him that had long remained untouched.

Perplexity enveloped him as he struggled to comprehend the depth of your distress over a mere wound, particularly considering his own immortal nature. Yet, as his gaze remained fixed upon your countenance, a subtle yet undeniable transformation transpired within him. A tingling sensation rippled from the pit of his stomach, coursing through his chest—a foreign and unfamiliar sensation that evoked curiosity rather than repulsion.

Blade caught a glimpse of something he had long denied himself—the touch of genuine concern and the presence of someone who genuinely cared. It served as a stark contrast to the scorn and condemnation he had grown accustomed to receiving from others. For the first time in centuries, there was someone in close proximity, tending to his well-being without reservation.

A tumultuous dichotomy of irritation and acceptance rose within him, engendering a tangled tapestry of conflicting emotions. The familiar irritation that had once consumed him began to dissipate, gradually replaced by a growing appreciation for your presence and the concern you exhibited.

Though the intricacies of his shifting emotions eluded full comprehension, Blade acknowledged the faint stirrings of comfort that arose in your proximity.

"What happened?" Kafka's voice interjected, causing you to whip your head in her direction. The perplexed look on her face mirrored your own surprise, as she observed the perturbation etched on your features.

"Blade... he got stabbed! We need to hurry and bring him to the healer!" Panic laced your words, urgency driving you to take swift action.

Kafka's eyes followed your hand, which was placed on Blade's chest, the rise and fall of his breath now a matter of concern. Slowly, her gaze ascended to his face, a mixture of irritation and nonchalance evident in his features. Then, her attention refocused on your frantic self.

A few moments passed, during which Kafka's gaze seemed to penetrate the situation, processing the scene before her. Suddenly, a burst of laughter erupted from her chest, echoing through the tense atmosphere.

"Why are you laughing? This is not a laughing matter, Kafka!" you exclaimed, your frustration palpable as you glared at the wine-haired beauty.

Blade let out a low groan, vigorously slapping your hand away from his chest. His unexpected display of aggression surprised you, especially considering the wound he had sustained. It was as if the act of being stabbed was nothing more than an ordinary occurrence for him, leaving you even more baffled. Was that the reason behind Kafka's laughter?

Your confusion deepened, and you couldn't make sense of the situation.

"Oh, (Name). I thought you knew," Kafka chuckled, her laughter now laced with a sense of amusement at your bewilderment.

"About what?"

With a brief glance at Blade, who was sheathing his sword with his back turned to them, Kafka's words carried a hint of knowing.

"Bladie is no stranger to mere wounds or injuries. That particular wound is insignificant to him. He is impervious to any harm inflicted upon his physical form. In fact, he transcends the limitations of us human beings; he is immortal, my dear (Name)."

WIth Kafka’s revelation your treatment of him immensely changed. As well as Blade found himself caught in a flurry of contradictions, torn between the desire for your absence and the inexplicable irritation when you complied with his wishes. Your change in treatment, while seemingly what he had wanted, now left him more unsettled and furious than ever before.

He couldn't understand why he was feeling this way, and it frustrated him to no end. The inexplicable emotions that welled up within him whenever you were around were foreign and unwelcome. It was as if the walls he had erected around his heart were slowly crumbling, revealing a vulnerability he had long suppressed.

The sight of you flashing smiles at others, tending to their wounds with genuine concern, ignited an unfamiliar sensation within him. He detested the repulsive sensation that surged through him, the possessive instinct that flared up whenever he saw you caring for someone else. He loathed the fact that you had this effect on him, making him question his own emotions and reactions.

Blade couldn't fathom why he cared, why he was bothered by your interactions with others. He was the immortal, the one who had long shut himself off from emotional attachments. And yet, here you were, weaving your way into his thoughts and emotions, stirring up a turmoil he couldn't escape.

With each passing day, the irritation only intensified, creating a storm of clashing emotions within him. He was more furious with himself for feeling this way, for allowing you to affect him in ways he had never experienced before.

Kafka, with her keen and perceptive eyes, couldn't help but remark upon Blade's discernibly heightened irritation—an observation that had not eluded her astute perception. Driven by her insatiable curiosity, she promptly broached the subject, seeking to unravel the enigma of his unusual demeanor. Yet, true to his character, Blade responded with his customary dismissiveness, casually brushing aside her concerns without proffering any elucidation. With an air of nonchalance, he redirected his attention to the task at hand, leaving the mystery of his behavior to linger in the air, unresolved.

Time seemed to elude Blade as he stood in his room. Lost in a labyrinth of thoughts concerning you, he found himself unaware of the passing hours, each moment consumed by you. A soft groan of frustration escaped his lips, acknowledging his own inability to pull away from his thoughts of you.

Feeling the weight of his restless mind, Blade resolved to take a moment for himself, to release some pent-up tension and clear his head. With purposeful steps, he made his way towards the nearby shower, where he could let off some steam. As the water continued to cascade over his form, Blade attempted to center his attention on the sensation of droplets caressing his skin, hoping it might serve as a distraction from the turmoil that roiled within his mind. Allowing the warmth to envelop him, he sought to ease the tension in his muscles, striving to liberate himself from the grip of his incessant thoughts.

Shaking his head, he endeavored to clear his mind of these unwelcome musings.

"What is wrong with me?" he muttered to himself, perturbed by the uncharacteristic surge of emotions that enveloped him. He had prided himself on being an unyielding and emotionless immortal, impervious to the influences of the world around him. Yet, there he stood, beleaguered by persistent thoughts concerning a mere mortal such as yourself.

With a resigned sigh, he turned off the shower and stepped out, enveloping his form with a towel. Gazing at his reflection in the fogged-up mirror, his crimson eyes reflected a blend of irritation and confusion. The unanticipated unraveling of his self-control by your presence bewildered him, leaving him grappling with emotions he could not completely understand.

Clasping his fists, he felt a surge of anger stirring within him. He could not afford to be ensnared by distractions, especially with perilous missions on the horizon. He must reclaim his focus and staunchly set aside these unwelcome and perplexing emotions.

Blade was clad in nothing but a short pajama, a towel casually draped over his shoulders to catch the lingering droplets of water. As he moved towards his bed, the resounding knock on his door demanded his attention. Curious and somewhat irritated by the intrusion, he opened the door, only to be taken aback by the sight before him—you standing there, an unexpected presence in this hour.

His surprise was evident in the slight widening of his eyes and the subtle raising of his brows. He couldn't fathom how you managed to leave the infirmary, where you were supposed to be resting. He silently calculated the time since their arrival, and the realization struck him like a bolt of lightning—five hours had passed.

"Hello," you greeted timidly. "I hope I'm not intruding."

"What brings you here?" he asked, irritated.

"I just wanted to express my gratitude for carrying me back to headquarters... and, well, apologize for any inconvenience."

"There was no other option. Kafka and Silver Wolf couldn't have taken you to the infirmary, could they? So, there's no need for thanks or apologies."

His blunt words briefly caught you off guard, causing you to blink before mustering a small smile.

"Oh." You blinked, mustering a small smile. "You're right. In that case, I'll take my leave now."

With a respectful bow, you turned on your heels, preparing to depart from his presence.

Blade's unwavering gaze remained fixated on you as you turned to depart, yet his eyes were subtly drawn to the exposed nape of your neck, igniting an inexplicable and unfamiliar sensation within him. The sight stirred something indescribable, a strange blend of emotions that only added to his growing frustration.

A maelstrom of confusion engulfed his thoughts as he questioned what was happening to him. Was he losing control, his once-steadfast sanity slipping through his grasp like elusive sand? The enigmatic emotions that besieged him intensified, leaving him grappling with a turbulent turmoil that defied understanding.

Just as the sound of heels clicking heralded your departure, Blade's trance was abruptly shattered. A primal force took hold of him, compelling him to act instinctively. In a moment beyond conscious contemplation, he seized your wrist, pulling you into his room with an abrupt force that elicited a surprised yelp from you. The door slammed shut behind you, sealing the two of you within its confines.

With an aggressive demeanor, Blade pinned you against the wall, his imposing figure rendering you feeling confined and vulnerable. His arms effectively caged you on either side of your head, while his intense gaze bore into you menacingly.

“W-What?”

Evident confusion colored your countenance as you cautiously questioned Blade, uncertain if your presence had once again provoked his irritation. His crimson eyes bore into you menacingly, wordlessly refusing to offer any response, leaving you to draw in a sharp breath, attempting to steady yourself. The charged atmosphere weighed heavily, prompting contemplation on whether a hasty escape was prudent. Yet, deep down, you recognized the futility of such an endeavor, as Blade's unmatched speed and strength would swiftly thwart any such attempt.

Summoning your courage, you made another attempt to prompt him, your words quivering slightly as they escaped your lips.

"Is there something you wish to say to me?" Despite the trepidation that tugged at your composure, you endeavored to maintain a composed facade, resolute in concealing your vulnerability.

Blade's response came with a visible grimace, his frustration unmistakable in his words, "You have persistently become annoying."

As he dipped his head, intensifying his scrutiny upon you, you valiantly struggled to keep your expression relaxed, even as your trembling hands betrayed the true depth of your emotions. The fearless front you displayed appeared only to further kindle his anger, intensifying the storm of emotions that swirled within him.

You are maddening.

"What did I even do?" Your voice took on a challenging tone, akin to that of a young cub ready to fight and growl. Intensely, you locked eyes with Blade, seeking an explanation for his behavior and his cryptic words.

"I should be the one saying that," he responded, his baritone voice carrying an edge of frustration. His answer only deepened your bewilderment, leaving you more perplexed than before.

"Huh? I don't understand—" you began to speak, but Blade's growl cut you off, silencing your words.

“What did you even do to me? Do you have another ability that can control emotions without our knowledge?”

His sudden accusation threw you off balance, as he insinuated that you possessed an ability to control emotions unbeknownst to anyone.

Your eyebrow arched in surprise and disbelief at the preposterous notion. You couldn't fathom what had gotten into Blade to make such an accusation, but you knew you needed to explain yourself, to set the record straight.

"Blade, I must admit I'm quite baffled by your accusation, as I genuinely don't know what you're referring to. I assure you, I haven't been doing anything to intentionally irritate you," you calmly explained with unfaltering eyes. "In fact, I've been following the caution you advised me about. So, I'm at a loss as to why you're upset with me once again."

Blade was right. Your compliance with his previous warning seemed to be the catalyst for your altered treatment of him. But what baffled him even more was why this change had only manifested recently, not from the very day he initially cautioned you.

Moreover, why is he justifying himself and becoming frustrated yet again? The question rings within him, echoing like an elusive whisper in the depths of his mind. He yearned to understand the source of his inner turmoil, to unravel the feelings that are sprouting in him.

The air was charged with an unmistakable sense of unease, and you could feel the weight of his emotions, veiled behind his crimson eyes. The conflict within him seemed to mirror the battle within your own heart, yearning to bridge the gap between you and find a common ground.

As you continued to gaze at him, a sliver of vulnerability flashed across Blade's hardened facade. It was fleeting, like a flickering flame, but enough to hint at the complex emotions that churned beneath his stoic exterior. His frustration seemed to be rooted in something deeper, something he struggled to put into words.

"You're well aware that I could wrap my hands around your neck and squeeze out that life of yours, aren't you?" he murmured, his lips hovering just above your ear, causing a shiver to course down your spine.

“Y-You’re crazy…”

He retracted his head slightly, fixing you with a sharp and penetrating gaze. The subtle quivering of your lips did not escape his notice, and a silent challenge passed between you both. His eyes traced a path from your intense gaze, skimming over your nose before finally lingering on your lips—a peculiar fixation, as if he had stumbled upon something mesmerizing and peculiar. An unusual urge seemed to flicker in his mind, an impulse to sink his teeth into your soft flesh until it bled.

Blade's tongue darted out, leaving a glistening trail across his lips as he raised his gaze to meet yours once more. The crimson hue of his eyes gleamed with a dangerous allure, veiled by a haze of emotions not easily discernible. Your jaw involuntarily dropped, unable to contain the wild pounding of your heart. The tension crackled with intensity, enveloping you both in its all-encompassing grip.

Every fiber of your being urged you to step back, to flee from the enigmatic danger that lurked in his captivating gaze. Yet, an inexplicable magnetism held you firmly in place, as if some invisible force bound you together.

The air hung heavy with anticipation, each passing second stretching into what felt like an eternal moment. Words seemed superfluous, for the unspoken language between your intertwined gazes conveyed more than mere sentences ever could. The space between you two became charged with a palpable energy, akin to the approach of an electrifying storm—impossible to ignore, as it enveloped you both in its relentless and tantalizing embrace.

"B-Blade—"

In an unforeseen twist of events, Blade's lips collided onto yours with a fervor that left you wide-eyed and breathless. The abruptness of the action rendered you momentarily frozen, unable to process the torrent of emotions and sensations that surged through your body.

Far from tender, the kiss bore a fierce and almost desperate intensity, as though it carried the weight of his very existence. It seemed as if he sought to carve himself upon you, as if this act of intimacy represented the last defiant stroke in a battle he waged within himself.

A sharp whimper involuntarily escaped your lips as he bit down with force, the metallic tang of your blood mingling with the taste of his kiss. The stinging sensation jolted you, yet you found yourself unable to push him away, as his strength overwhelmed any feeble attempts to resist. Instead, instinctively, you clung to him, your fingers digging into his shoulders, seeking to anchor yourself amidst the swirling chaos.

When he eventually withdrew, your breaths intertwined within the tensed air enveloping you both. His crimson eyes bore into yours, a tumultuous mix of emotions reflecting in their depths. Words eluded you as your mind grappled with the tangled array of feelings that engulfed you.

All was a blur, your heart pounding in your chest, mirroring the adrenaline-fueled rush of your thoughts. You felt like an unwitting participant in a dance of fate, entangled within a complex web of emotions that seemed to defy all rationality.

Blade's actions left you dazed and vulnerable, your thoughts in disarray. However, beneath the veil of aggression, you couldn't help but sense a raw vulnerability in him, a vulnerability that mirrored the turmoil of your own feelings.

His intense gaze bore into you, searing into your very soul, as he uttered those few words that carried a world of meaning.

"You make me go crazy."

#honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #hsr #blade x reader #hsr x reader #hsr blade x reader #blade x y/n #hsr blade #star rail

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kaedekolya · 2 months

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clarence and his counterparts: man or monster?

So we were talking about Clarence’s new android SSR (Faint Night Light) in the LBC discord server, and it got me thinking about the monster allusions that seem to be a common thread across Clarence’s main stories. Then we discussed the diary entries from his White Day event, and it occurred to me that this monster imagery also ties into his modern-day counterpart – and with that, this post was born.

In other words: is Clarence a man, a monster, or somewhere in between?

[ SPOILERS: Clarence’s main stories and Chrono Theatre diaries. This meta post is structured as story-specific sections, namely Godheim, Eden, and the modern world, so you can skip over the world(s) you haven't read yet. No Awakening spoilers, don't worry! ]

- ☽ -

Godheim: Archmage Clarence

First, let’s talk about Godheim Clarence. As the Archmage, he bears a heavy responsibility upon his shoulders – to oversee the Magi Tower, to fight the Glacial Butterflies, and, ultimately, to protect the country and its people.

In order to fulfil this duty that he has chosen to undertake, Clarence seals his heart and shuts others out. He denies his emotions, and resents himself for having these emotions, to the point that he disparages MC for “[acting] impetuously” and belittles her capabilities when she shows concern for Amelia’s wellbeing. Archmage Clarence’s impassivity is his shield against the emotions he views as a hindrance.

Yet he was not always this way. Clarence is a casualty of cruel circumstances, a tender soul torn apart by trauma. When MC is confronted with the truth of the mages’ magic, having witnessed a mage die before her very eyes, she notes that “[there] is no pain or compassion on Clarence’s face,” because “[this] is a sight he has seen all too many times before.” Decades of watching his fellow mages succumb to the Glacial Butterflies that nest inside them, and decades of having to end the lives of mutating mages under his purview, have conditioned Clarence into numbing his heart to such pain. How else could he have stayed sane, after a century of bearing witness to suffering wrought by his own hands?

Archmage Clarence’s disposition is initially described by MC as an “[icy] presence,” but this is the facade that he projects as a defence mechanism, not his genuine self. Clarence is so accustomed to the chill of the Glacial Butterflies within him that he has taken on the frost as a personality trait, believing that his frigidity defines him. He does not view himself as a human capable of warmth; instead, he thinks of himself as a mutant, as an icy monster.

Even so, Clarence cannot deny his innate inclination towards kindness. When he notices that Amelia isn’t feeling well, he tells her to sit in the carriage. When Amelia’s temperature drops, he casts a spell to warm the shivering child up, even as he grumbles that he’s wasting his time and magic. When Amelia’s death is imminent, he tries to send her off in the gentlest way possible, then grants her final wish by conjuring a connection to the water mirror. Clarence may insist that he does not care, but his actions reflect his compassion.

It is this very kindness that steers him towards a path of selfless sacrifice, for the sake of his country and its people. The life of a mage may have been forced upon him, by the man that gave a gravely injured child no other option but the potion that would transform him, yet Clarence learns to harness his power for good. He spends his youth eliminating Glacial Butterflies and protecting the village of the snow plains, and despite the harsh conditions of the path he now treads, he does not hold a grudge against the family that sold him off and thrived in the resulting profit. Instead, he returns to check on them from afar, and when an onslaught of Glacial Butterflies attack, he protects them with every last bit of energy within him.

Still, his family’s betrayal left an indelible mark on his psyche. Back when he’d been given the potion, he’d resolved to succumb to his injuries rather than drink it. Despite his instinctive desire to live, MC notes that his “will to live [had been] virtually non-existent,” because there is “[no] despair greater than being betrayed by your own family.” The young Clarence had not seen a reason to live, when his family had forsaken him. It is only when MC saves him, urging him to live on, that he resolves to survive and repay this debt. Each time MC encounters him in her voyage through time, he is on the verge of death, and each time, his dwindling will to live stems from his despair over those he could not save. What ultimately keeps him alive is the vow he swore to his saviour.

This characterisation is one that carries through his immortal lifespan. Clarence does not live for himself; he lives for others. Whether that means risking his life to defend a village, or sacrificing himself in a ritual to save the country’s inhabitants, the underlying premise is the same – Clarence lives for the person who saved him, and for the promise he made to them. He allows others to form negative opinions of him based on the assumptions they’ve made, in order to keep the secret of the ritual and the Glacial Butterflies from them, because their scorn towards him matters less than their safety. He closes himself off from others, never permitting them to reach out to him, because he cannot allow companionship and compassion to distract him from his purpose. He “[cannot] afford to be sentimental,” because he cannot have anyone or anything clouding his judgement. Better to be the enemy of the state that saves it, than the friend of the state that cannot do anything as it crumbles.

It is ironic, then, that Clarence’s devotion to his promise leads him from striving to live and fulfil it, to voluntarily dying for that same promise. His life, his existence itself, is secondary to the promise he has made. He will live to protect the world for his saviour, but if the only way to protect it is to die, then die he shall. Perhaps he views it as a penance of sorts, an atonement for the sins he’s committed. Perhaps he believes the new world would be better off without a monster like him.

For all his calculative callousness and stoic solitude, Clarence is deeply self-aware. Not only is he conscious of the suffering he inflicts and the ramifications of his actions, but he also ruminates upon his sins until they turn to guilt in his gut and self-loathing in the deepest recesses of his soul. He does not turn a blind eye to the pain he witnesses; instead, he looks it straight in the eye, internalises it, and forces himself to feel nothing at all.

Clarence may appear to have no qualms about exploiting people and reducing them to cogs in a plan greater than its constituent parts, but his interactions with Amelia prove otherwise. Right before he sends her off on what is meant to be a suicide mission, his carefully-crafted defenses slip, and he asks whether she hates him. Clarence believes that he has failed to live up to the Archmage’s title, that he has fallen short of being a “guiding force for all the mages” and a “protector.” He condemns himself for his callous strategies and merciless manipulation, since he has been treating people like chess pieces and “using them as [he sees] fit.” He disparages himself for “[standing] by on the sidelines, safe and sound.” He believes others hate him because he’s given them all the reasons to, because he deserves to be hated, because he, too, hates himself. All this while, he fails to recognise that he has taken on the greatest sacrifice of all – the burden of leadership, of decision-making, of being responsible for all the blood on his hands.

This downplaying of his own suffering, alongside his disregard of his own well-being, is what drives Clarence to self-sacrifice time and time again. When a theory about the Glacial Butterflies begins to take shape in his mind, he does not test it out on one of his mages, because he does not view them as expendable despite what he claims. Instead, he uses himself for his experiment, slicing his chest open and bearing the agonising pain in order to ascertain the truth of the magic within him.

On the verge of being overcome by the Glacial Butterflies, despite having prepared for this eventuality by shackling his limbs, he makes one last selfless request. “My Lord, you must kill me before I turn,” he entreats, willing to relinquish his own life for the safety of others. Even when Philip protects him from the Glacial Butterflies, refusing to kill him, Clarence believes that there is no place for him in the future that his Lord envisions.

Decades later, he still echoes this same sentiment. “There is no future without sacrifice,” he tells Lars, and he does not see himself as part of that future, does not see himself as deserving of that future. Archmage Clarence thinks of himself as a monster, not a man, and a monster is better off dead than alive.

It is a revelation, to him, that Amelia does not hate him. MC does not hate him. Lars, Alkaid, the mages that carry on the legacy of the Magi Tower, none of them hate him. They do not view him as a monster; they view him as a martyr, a protector, a saviour. Someone who did his best, and gave his all. Archmage Clarence leaves behind a legacy through his sacrifice, spurred by the human heart he still harbours deep within.

- ☽ -

Eden: Falcon Clarence

Next, we have the Falcon Clarence of Eden. The lone ranger of the desert, the mercenary that eliminates Sandswimmers with impeccable precision and works with no one else.

“A bait that only knows how to cry is a burden,” his mentor tells him, and Clarence internalises that into his cognitive framework and guiding compass. It is “the first lesson Liore taught [him];” that he must prove his worth in order to live. His scent lures the Sandswimmers to him, and so he must make himself useful by seeking out danger.

Valued only for his utility as bait, Clarence learns that his worth is determined by his fighting skills. With no other way to survive, he becomes a NEOS by fusing Sandswimmer gems into his body. Clarence pays the price of this acquired power through the gradual erosion of his memories, but that is far from the only thing he has lost. His decision to accept the integration of these foreign, beastly objects into his body has changed him irrevocably. He thinks of himself not as a human, but as a mutant being only one step away from becoming a monstrous Lost. Still, he endeavours to “remember [his] humanity,” because he refuses to become a “mere weapon [that knows] nothing but destruction.” Falcon Clarence understands that he is, by definition, a monster, but he refuses to relinquish the last shreds of his humanity.

In his first encounter with MC, he is rational and pragmatic as always, scrutinising her motives and seeing no reason to work together. Years of solitude, with no one else to depend on, have honed Clarence’s reflexes into an “instinct for self-defence.” Yet his reaction to MC’s request reveals that his solitude has been shaped by circumstance, not entirely by choice. When MC explains her reason for seeking out Eden, even though it does not sound particularly convincing, Clarence accepts it as sufficient and agrees to lead the way. Despite the potential risk of allowing a stranger close, he offers MC a ride on his motorcycle. Subsequently, he continues to help her out, defending the children’s shelter and giving her the gems he’d collected, even as he refuses to follow her any further.

Falcon Clarence claims that he works alone, but everything he does is for the sake of protecting others. He fights in the desert to protect the shelters from Sandswimmers, and he fights in Eden to protect Lin and the other NEOS from the Lost. He brings MC to the NEOS Association, so that she can rest for a night and learn essential skills from Lin. He knows that the night is dangerous, so despite his own preference for working alone, he ensures that MC has a community of protection around her.

Even as he dismisses everything and everyone else as burdens, his actions speak otherwise. Despite having met MC for only a single day, he offers his assistance to her time and time again, from rides on his motorcycle to filling water bottles with her. He could easily leave her to fend for herself, but he chooses not to leave her behind even when that would be the easier way out.

Perhaps the reason Clarence refuses to work with other people is that he’s afraid. Afraid of dragging them down, afraid of becoming their burden. He fears that history will repeat itself. He cannot bear to lose someone he cares for again, so he refrains from caring about anyone at all. Each time Clarence chastises others for being a hindrance, he is reproaching his past self for his inadequacy. Each time he risks his life to protect others, he is atoning for his failure to save his mentor.

MC says that she understands how Clarence feels, because “acting alone means nobody will be hurt because of [him].” In a way, acting alone also protects himself from being hurt. It is a defence mechanism born from his past, when he had to “learn to accept [his] losses” from a young age. He couldn’t afford to grieve Liore for long, not with the constant threat of the Sandswimmers, and so he could do nothing else but “live on with what memories [he] had left.” He’d forced himself to harden his heart to his emotions, but he could not suppress them entirely.

Clarence blames his moment of weakness, of emotional folly, for causing Liore’s death. It was her humanity, even in her final moments as a Lost, that held her back from killing him and caused her to die. He regrets his choice to this day, and perhaps it is this survivor’s guilt that pushes him to fight harder until he reaches the brink.

It is this same guilt, alongside his resolve to not lose anyone else he cares for, that drives him towards self-sacrifice. When he realises that MC needs a soul stone – his soul stone – to open the door within Central Control, he unflinchingly raises his gun to his head, as if it were the natural and logical decision to make. He is ready to offer his life without a moment’s hesitation, because that is the utility he can offer in this moment, in order to keep MC safe and help her achieve her goal. She has given him a reason to fight, and he will die trying to fulfil it.

Ultimately, it is his encounter with MC – and the companionship which blooms from it – that saves him. Without demanding anything in return, she cries for his pain, fights by his side, and shoulders his burdens with him. Clarence doubts his humanity, even as he holds fast to it, since he is all too cognisant of the monstrous traits within. In turn, MC’s unwavering trust reaffirms the humanity within him, reminding him that he is worthy of living.

Falcon Clarence may not be fully human on a biological level, and he may still succumb to the effects of the monsters within him from time to time, but he has managed to preserve his heart and his humanity. His tale is one of healing, of opening up, and of learning to value himself for who he is and not what he can do.

- ☽ -

Modern World: Clarence

Finally, let’s circle back to modern-day Clarence. At first glance, he’s the calm, collected, and capable Student Council president, who always seems to have affairs in order and circumstances under control.

Then, in his Chrono Theatre diary entries, we learn that he had a psychiatrist observing him from a young age, due to his gifted aptitude and exceptional intelligence beyond that of his peers. This revelation sparked a discussion in the LBC discord server, which spurred this message of mine that then became the basis for this meta post:

Clarence is well-versed in decorum, but that doesn’t necessarily mean it comes naturally to him. It’s likely that he learned social etiquette by picking it up from observing how other people behave, so he knows the appropriate responses to give and the socially-acceptable ways to carry himself. However, because this social understanding is not an innate trait but a learned one, there are often times when he doesn’t recognise the need for social niceties, and instead his instinctual response – founded on his internal logic – comes through.

One example of this can be found as early as his second interaction with MC, after she paints an artwork of him:

The polite thing to do would be to express interest in or appreciation of the finished product, regardless of one’s actual feelings towards it. However, Clarence “doesn’t show the slightest interest” in MC’s painting. Does this mean that he doesn’t care for it, and doesn’t see the need to put on a pretence? Quite the contrary. Instead, it’s because he thinks he doesn’t have anything useful to offer in response, and thus he stays silent.

Here, we see a disconnect between how Clarence understands the world, and how other people tend to view it. While most people would appreciate receiving praise or validation, Clarence doesn’t particularly see the need to receive either, and thus doesn’t immediately think of giving them to others. Rather, he takes a more pragmatic approach, focusing on utility; a piece of work deserves feedback for the effort poured into it. However, as a law major, he does not have sufficient knowledge or expertise regarding art. As such, he believes that his feedback would not be useful, and thus it is better not to say anything at all.

This ties into how Clarence views himself as his roles, and the functions he can serve. He understands that he has worth, but he evaluates this worth through his services as the Student Council president, or his contributions as a law intern. When he assists others, he doesn’t think of it as going out of his way to help them; instead, he views it as part of his rightful duty.

As a result, Clarence doesn’t view himself as simply “Clarence.” Rather, he thinks of himself as Clarence, the Student Council president; Clarence, an upperclassman; Clarence, a friend. If he can fulfil someone’s needs through a role that he holds, he will do it, even at the expense of himself.

We see this most prominently in Clarence’s “Break Time” R card story:

When the senior who’s supposed to interpret for an academic speaker falls ill and fails to attend, Clarence steps up to fill their shoes last-minute. William notes that Clarence can be counted on to show up whenever and wherever he’s needed, and MC agrees that he’s “the only one who’s up to the task.”

However, what most people don’t recognise are the sheer lengths Clarence will go to in order to fulfil his duties. On top of his regular responsibilities, filling in for the interpreter caused Clarence to “[burn] the midnight oil” preparing for the speech, and taking care of the sick speaker meant that Clarence could not sleep for two days. He doesn’t recognise that he’s constantly going above and beyond, because to him it’s a given, but he is in fact pushing himself past his limits, and past the line that most people would draw.

It’s interesting to examine MC’s thoughts here, because she interprets Clarence’s willingness to take a nap as a rational understanding that he needs to rest in order to keep functioning. However, this only happens after MC coaxes him into taking a break. If she hadn’t intervened, Clarence would have continued pushing himself until he completed his task – he was already at “the brink of collapse,” and he “only agreed to sleep after [MC] practically begged him to.” Clarence prioritises his responsibilities to the point that he does not recognise his own needs, and thus neglects to take care of himself.

Although modern Clarence doesn’t think of himself as different, or as anything less than a person, it’s evident that he views himself as the roles he fulfils rather than simply as who he is. In turn, this mindset is reflected in his behaviour, which then shapes other people’s perceptions of him. This is how Clarence becomes characterised as the aloof and intimidating Student Council president in the students’ eyes, even though he cares so deeply and helps out so much; most people are unable to look deeper and see Clarence as the person that he is, because he perceives and presents himself through the lens of his roles.

As such, other people often view Clarence as different from themselves – as if he’s operating on a different wavelength, or existing on a separate plane entirely. Modern Clarence’s genius sets him apart from his peers, but more than that, his perspective of himself winds up alienating himself from other people. Clarence views himself as like others, but others view him as unlike them. He blends in well enough, but he doesn’t quite fit in; he has a place in society, but he doesn’t quite belong.

- ☽ -

Clarence, across time and space

Out of all the Clarences thus far, modern Clarence is perhaps the most well-adjusted, and this reflects the importance of having a support system. Godheim Clarence and Eden Clarence were isolated from a young age and survived alone throughout most of their lives, whereas modern Clarence had family and friends around him. He may not have had the most conventional childhood, but he grew up with his older sister Jaclyn and his close friend Luca, and he also had his psychiatrist Ford observing and monitoring his development. Subsequently, after he enters St Shelter Academia, he gains a circle of friends he can rely on, such as William, O’Connor, and, of course, MC.

Expanding upon Clarence’s St Shelter Academia bonds, we see that Clarence has people around him who genuinely like him for who he is, and are willing to support him unconditionally. O’Connor affectionately refers to Clarence with a nickname – “Shi-kun” in the Japanese voiceover, or “Little Si Lan” in the Chinese one – and for all his devious teasing, it’s clear he looks out for his Student Council successor. As for William, he may whine about Clarence’s by-the-book discipline, but his clumsiness and complaints do not preclude him from helping out when needed. For all that Clarence often chastises William, he still relies on him to assist with Student Council matters, and he knows William is someone he can trust.

Compared to these two, MC is a relatively newer connection, but her bond with Clarence runs deep. Right off the bat, she’s able to meet him on his level and banter with him, and he lets down his guard enough to subtly tease her for trying to trick him. As their relationship develops, Clarence grows to trust her, sharing his inner thoughts and admitting his vulnerabilities. MC is a safe haven for him, and she understands him on a level deeper than most. While the other students may fear Clarence for his aloof disposition, or hesitate to approach him due to his detached rationality, MC sees the earnest sincerity woven into his actions and the warmth laced through his words. Others may think of him as an unfeeling robot or a terrifying monster, but MC loves him for the human that he is.

There’s a subtle but interesting juxtaposition here, in which Godheim Clarence and Eden Clarence – both possessing monstrous mutations within them – view themselves as monsters while most others do not, whereas modern Clarence – wholly human – views himself as human while most others do not. All three Clarences are keenly aware of what constitutes them, allowing this biological understanding to shape their perception of themselves, but they do not recognise that their actions paint a different picture to others.

Regardless of the world he inhabits, Clarence constantly straddles the line between man and monster. His selfless nature and dutiful diligence often lead him to self-sacrifice and superhuman feats, creating the illusion of a monster – but beneath this facade lies, always, the heart of a human.

- ☽ -

thank you for reading!♡

if you have any thoughts about this meta post, i'd love to hear them! responses are always welcome, and my ask box is open~

up next: android clarence, and the inevitability of tragedy. where is the line between human and machine? stay tuned for my thoughts on clarence's awakening main story!

#lovebrush chronicles meta #lovebrush chronicles #for all time #lbc #lbc spoilers #clarence clayden #lbc clarence #lovebrush clarence #godheim clarence #eden clarence #modern clarence #sol's meta musings

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silvervioletvalentine · 4 months

Text

-Heaven help a fool in love-

Pairing : oscar Piastri x fem OC Bee

Summary : in which Oscar is a certified , terrified , glorified simp for Bee . His teammate who scares the hell out of him.

Warnings - none? Bee is a little mean , mean girl vibes but mainly fluff . Just simp Oscar and bad ass Bee. - first time writing again in months so I’m just trying to get back into it, don’t really think this is any good but gotta start somewhere right? :))))))))

Oscar felt like he was going to be sick. His stomach tossing and turning , hands shaking and feeling like he was the epitome of that Eminem song . Knees weak , moms spaghetti and everything .

I mean, it couldn’t be very healthy for him to feel this way.

He panicked , eyes darting around the room , too scared to even look at the woman that was causing him all of these sickening emotions .

Was it possible to be going paler and redder at the same time? He touched the back of his fingers to his burning cheeks and fought back a wince , maybe he was dying .

Death by intimidation of the most beautiful (scary) woman he had ever seen in his life .

The anxious pit in his stomach had only been growing since he had been informed of just who would be his new teammate would be this year . Her name ringing like a siren in his head as he wondered if this was a dream come true or a nightmare coming to reality .

A dream in the fact of this was everything a guy like him could wish for , a successful , amazingly talented driver who already was on the road to becoming one of the best , joining him as his teammate .

And a nightmare in the way that this could not end well for him. He was so sure of it . Based on the very limited , few times he had already spoken to her in the past , he was going to humiliate himself and make her think that there was something wrong with him.

Not being able to mutter more than a mouthful of strained and stammered words to her like he was a fresh teenager talking to a girl for the first time ever.

Was it hot in this room? Oscar pulled at his tightening collar anxiously , sweating profusely. Or was he perhaps having a heart attack?

He accidentally glanced across the table and caught eyes with Bee , the woman causing his feelings of imminent death and swallowed hard.

Bee was so beautiful but just so intimidating to him. With dirty blonde hair and sharp green eyes, cheek bones that could cut his skin and lips that had no right looking the way they did ..as the kids these days say, her face card never ever declined .

And then there was her tattoos , a body of art everywhere . Covering her arms , her legs , her stomach and chest . Every part of her skin that he caught a glimpse of was like a work of literal art for him to gaze at . And then there was the glittering piercings too, on her nose , her eyebrow , ears covered in diamonds and hoops .

She was a dream.

A beautiful dream but then she opened her mouth and Oscar was like a teenage boy all over again.

Because Bee was loud and rude and quite frankly mean. Judgemental and not afraid to express her opinion , she had gathered quite the reputation for herself . The complete opposite of Oscar’s quite and mellow personality , she was wild and free .

And it scared him because how was he supposed to mount up to anything in her eyes? He knew that she must of thought of him as some meek weirdo who couldn’t even look her in the eye for more than a second at a time without stammering like a little kid. But he just couldn’t help it.

He was mesmerised by all that she was . But he was also terrified of her too because he had seen how mean and how quick to anger she could be and he did not want to be on the wrong side of her , ever . No thank you.

They couldn’t have been more different and it upset him because he wanted her to like him , so badly .

But then he thought about how that one time she had asked him what he did on their break and he had quietly told her that he had just stayed at home , enjoying the peace and quite .

To which she had paused , nodded and casually told him that she had jumped out of a plane for fun. And that was the end of that conversation because what else could he have even said that a meek “cool.”

He must have seemed so lame to Bee and it made all of these nauseating feelings even worse.

I mean for gods sake , why couldn’t he have gotten a crush on someone a little less likely to kill him if he even so much as stepped out of line?

A loud clearing of a throat snapped him out of his panicking and in a daze he noticed that the room was already clearing out , eyes widening in shock at how long he had dissociated in panic for.

Then his heart dropped even further in his stomach as he turned his head to see who was wanting his attention , only to see Bee’s expectant eyes sharpening at him.

“Oh.” He breathed out in shock “hi.” He barely hid the grimace at how Pathetic he sounded then. Swallowing and shoving his trembling hands into his hoodie pocket .

Bee nodded at him a little skeptically , still eyeing him like there was something wrong with him.

“Hey. Are you okay? You looked a little spaced out there . Everything good?” She wondered , eyeing his red cheeks with a slight frown.

She wondered why he acted this way around her . From what she had seen, Oscar was always calm and friendly with the other drivers but to her he was always a little …stiff . Withdrawn, almost scared?

She tried to think back to remember if she had ever done or said anything to the Australian that could have him shaking in his trainers like he was. But nothing came to mind .

Her frown deepened , unaware that her curious frown looked more like a glare to poor Oscar .

He exhaled sharply , nodding his head too quickly .

“Yeah! Yeah. So good, just a little tired.” He said. Just wishing he could be cool around her for once.

But she looked so god damn pretty and her Spanish accent was thick from being home over the holidays as she spoke back to him casually like they were friends , making his heart jump in his chest.

“You need to get good sleep. I don’t want a tired teammate , too restless to help me out on the track.” She tried to tease him, to lighten him up a bit.

But Oscar took her words seriously , nodding his head with a heartfelt look on his face .

“I will always help you out.” He promised sincerely .

Bee paused , caught of guard. Then let out a slightly awkward laugh , nodding her head .

A little weird, she hummed in amusement , but also very cute. She grinned as she looked back at him .

“That’s very sweet.” She replied then asked him “speaking of helping me out , do you have a car?”

Oscar rose a brow at her “yes? Why?” He wondered at the sudden question . So random and abrupt .

She gave him a little smile , Tilting her head to be more appealing to get what she wanted. Oblivious to the fact that she only had to blink and Oscar would give her his kidney if she wanted it.

He was down bad. So , so freaking bad. It was disgusting really .

“My car doesn’t arrive till tomorrow night and I need to get to track . You have two cars right? One from team too?” She said.

It made him feel giddy that she had clearly kept some type of tabs on him to know that, so giddy in fact that he failed to mention that one car was back in Australia.

He only had one right now. The mclaren the team had given him. The same one she would be getting tomorrow night as well.

“Yeah.” He doesn’t even think about his next words , blurting them out loudly “you can have my car.”

She blinked at him in shock “yeah? You don’t mind? I know it’s a lot to ask-“

Oscar quickly shakes his head , smiling at her. “No! No. It’s fine. It’s only for tomorrow, you can have it.” Internally panicking as he realised just what he had said. But he couldn’t take it back now, not when she was smiling at him like he was her saviour.

She then reached out and grabbed him into a quick hug , laughing happily while he stood stock still in shock. Glowing red and heart palpating , feeling like he was in a dream.

“Thanks Oscar! I owe you one . You can ride mine anytime you want.” She tells him with a wink as she pulls away.

“See you tomorrow!” She leaves him standing there with wide eyes and red cheeks.

Hand pressed to his chest, eyes closed tight in disbelief .

“Shit.” He breathed out grimacing to himself as he realised that he had no ride to the track either now since he had just given his only car away.

Bee felt herself frown in disbelief as she drove down the road and spotted a familiar man in walking on the sidewalk alone , blowing the horn at him loudly and watching Oscar jump out of his skin.

His head snapping over to her in shock, giving her a sheepish grin when she glared back at him in absolute disbelief .

“What are you doing? Why are you walking? Where is your other car?” She throws the questions at him quickly as she pulls over to a stop in front of him.

Oscar paused , then mumbled quietly, embarrassed “Australia.” Peeking up after a minute of silence to see Bee gaping at him like he had lost his damn mind.

She spluttered loudly “what the fuck? Then why did you give me your car?!” She almost shouts , wondering what the hell was wrong with him. Who did that?!

He shrugged weakly “you needed it?” It comes out more of a question as he meekly gives her a smile as if to calm her down. Wondering why she looked so angry at him now.

She didn’t know what to feel other than frustration and confusion , wondering if he was so scared of her that he felt intimidated to give her his damn car! What the hell?

“So do you obviously!” She shot back while getting out of the drivers seat and rounding the car , opening the door for him to get into the passengers seat.

She stood like a disapproving parent , hand on top of the door as she scolded at him “get in Oscar!” She demanded while pointing her finger to the seat sternly.

And like the good guy he was, he quickly scurried to get in. Bee slamming the door behind him and getting back behind the wheel.

It was quite for a moment as she continued to drive , side eyeing him with a scowl on her pretty face while Oscar sat, blushing , beside her quietly.

She was concerned “are you being bullied?” She wondered out loud . Because what else could make someone think they had to give her their car just because she wanted it?

Oscar looked at her in shock “no! What?” He looked equally as confused as her now.

She frowned at him “then why so easy to give? Are you scared of me?” She then asked him wanting to figure this out .

Oscar wanted to die “no. God. No.” Yes. Very scared actually but not of her but scared of the way she made him feel.

It was stupid , he felt stupid and it was all her fault.

He looked back at her with a offended frown “you’re not scary.” He lied.

She scoffed , then jerked the wheel sharply making him let out a girly scream.

She snickered meanly “sure. Don’t lie next time otherwise I break your fingers.” She let him know calmly .

Oscar swallowed dryly at her threat having a feeling she wasn’t joking either .

“I didn’t - I didn’t exactly lie.” He tried to justify himself nervously “just emitted a little fact is all.” He muttered

Bee just rolled her eyes “you’re too cute to be this stupid.” She told him casually like she wasn’t flipping his whole world upside down with a single comment .

Oscar just looked at her in shock . Cute? She thought he was cute? He inhaled deeply , biting back a giddy grin.

“Thanks.” He stupidly replied instead . In a daze from being called cute.

He misses the way she rolls her eyes again, fondly shaking her head at him.

Definitely something wrong with him. She thought.

After that it became a habit of his to do everything for Bee, even when she didn’t need it or even asked him to do so.

He made sure no one bothered her before each race so she could get into the zone , making sure that she always had a sugary candy to eat as soon as she got out the car.

He made sure that she always had water on hand , he had elastic ties around his wrist to tie back her hair for her when she was sweaty.

Casually sitting behind her while she talked to lando about something , gathering her hair into his hands, Bee not even blinking or pausing in conversation as Oscar tried to braid if for her. Having watched some YouTube videos on doing hair for her.

Ignoring the flabbgasted look lando was giving him, he preened at the affectionate tap to the thigh she gave him when he was done . Feeling more of a rush from her simple touch than he did after a race, it was electrifying .

He stood in front of the beaming sunlight as soon as he noticed the way Bee began to squint as it stung her eyes , positioning himself so that she was shaded instead . He smiled to himself as she handed him her bag to hold while she got out her phone from her pocket , chatting casually to him.

He hooked her glittery bag onto his shoulder , unbothered by the looks he was getting from everyone else .

“I mean can you believe that bitch? Calling me trash when she looked like she had murdered Elmo and worn him for lunch? I mean- she had that much filler in her face that she could barely even blink!” She ranted to him bitchily like she usually did whenever someone annoyed her after learning that Oscar loved hearing her gossip and bitching.

Oscar nodded his head along in agreement , grinning in amusement at how mean she was . “She sure could cry though , Botox couldn’t stop the wailing.” He commented .

Bee just shrugged , unfazed . “She had it coming talking to me like that.” She replied.

“You could make even the coldest person cry.” He said impressed. Then he held out her little mirror in front of her for her while she reapplied her lipstick , quietly admiring her some more as she did so

Lando couldn’t take it anymore. After watching him put food in a designer lunchbox for Bee , hand washing her car for her and then asking him if he thought she would like a rag doll cat for her birthday. He couldn’t keep it in any longer .

“Did you drop the soap around her or something mate? Is that how you became her little bitch?” He joked. Laughing hysterically as he watched Oscar’s cheek immediately blaze with heat.

Oscar glared at him despite the embarrassment clearly on his face .

“I am not her bitch!” He denied weakly. He definitely was a little bit . “I’m just being nice. Like a good teammate.” He added as an after thought , another weak excuse .

Lando just snorted at him “you never brought me lunch or hand washed my car.” He said amused.

Oscar doesn’t miss a beat “that’s cause I don’t like you.” He snapped back at him defensively .

Lando smirked triumphantly “so you like her then?”

Oscar paused at his mistake , blinking wide eyes as he quickly tried to back peddle . “I don’t like her!”

“So you hate her?” He teased him. Trying to get him to admit what they all already knew.

“No!”

“So you do like her?”

“No!”

Lando tilted his head mockingly “so what do you think of her then? I think you’ve got a little crush Oscar. I think that you think she’s really pretty and you want to bang her-“

Oscar gasped loudly at him , face bright red “Lando! Shut up! I don’t have a crush on her! Jesus! What are you? Ten?” He hissed back at him , mortified .

Lando just giggled loudly at his reaction “you are so red!” He grinned at him amused “you like her soooo much-“

Oscar nearly jumped out of his skin when a voice piped up behind him, making his stomach sink as he watched lando smirk mischievously at him. Ever the shit stirrer .

“Who do you like? Do you have a crush Oscar?” Bee was frowning at him, not liking what she was hearing at all . The cute little guy that followed her around and did everything she asked was looking elsewhere? she didn’t like that thought at all.

Oscar looked back at her, saw her frown and frowned too. Because why was she frowning? He almost felt offended , assuming the worst.

Did she think that he was so Pathetic that a girl couldn’t possibly like him? That he couldn’t have a crush because he was so weird?

He frowned back at her even harder then , still defensive from Landos teasing.

“No I don’t! But so what if I did? Am I not allowed to have a crush?!” He exclaimed annoyed at the both of them now.

Lando just laughed while Bee just looked at him like he had lost his mind.

“Who?” She wanted to know, blunt and not giving a shit how demanding she seemed. “Who is the stupid girl that has you like this?” She felt her blood pressure rise.

Because In her mind Oscar was already hers. They hung out together , he did everything for her. She was pretty and hot and why wouldn’t Oscar want her? Surely there couldn’t be anyone better than her?

She scoffed bitterly .

Oscars eyes were wide and he looked terrified , face pale and cheeks a dark red. He gaped at her angry face , looking at him like he had somehow betrayed her.

“I don’t like anyone! Lando was just kidding weren’t you lando?” He hissed at the stupid Brit that had started all this in the first place , who was looking for too entertained for his liking.

Lando looked at his panicked face then at Bee’s angry one and laughed loudly . “Sure I was. And anyway , Oscar likes scary women. Don’t you buddy?” He patted him on the shoulder before leaving him to deal with the aftermath on his own, even giving him a wink as he went.

Bee frowned then tilted her head, brain ticking as she took in landos sly comment.

Huh. She relaxed a little then, maybe she was the stupid girl.

“Oscar?” She voiced.

He swallowed thickly “yeah?”

“I’m hungry.” She simply said looking pointedly at the lunch box in his hand.

“What are we having today?” She asked him taking him by the hand and leading him over to the table to eat.

He inhaled sharply , squeezing the palm of her hand three times. “Quiche and yoghurt . It’s strawberry and vanilla and -“ he suddenly frowned at her worriedly “you’re not like , allergic to yogurt are you? Or cheese? Cause I’m not trying to kill you or anything! I’ve never even asked you if you’re allergic to anything . Are you? That’s so stupid and careless of me-“

Before he could continue on his panicked tangent , Bee quickly cut him off.

Letting of a fond little giggle , she nudged his shoulder with hers in amusement . “The only thing I’m allergic to is bullshit Oscar.” She gave him a pointed look.

He just nodded quietly .

Then “Bee?” He spoke up timidly handing her the yoghurt to eat after watching her devour the food.

She just hummed , handing him her orange juice to take a sip of in return.

“Are you- do you have a boyfriend?” He manages to spit out meekly.

Bee hid her giddy smirk in her spoon, simply shaking her head no. “Very single. Could be persuaded not to be though.” She let him know , side eyeing him teasingly .

Oscar went red. Looked down at the table and nodded his again. “Ah okay. Cool.” Was all he muttered.

Another minute went by then Bee side eyed him again , watching him play shyly with his fingers while he waited for her to finish eating.

“Are you? Single?” She asked him . He better be, she thought darkly . This cute boy was hers.

Oscar startled , looking at her like a deer in headlights. Then he rapidly nodded his head. “Very.”

“Good.” Was all she replied.

He nodded too.

Good .

Cool.

They said nothing else on the matter. But Oscar’s hopes soared.

It kept going on like that for a while , Bee calling him cute and pretty and adorable and Oscar running after her like ‘a certified pathetic simp’ as lando likes to say. And it was going well in Oscar’s opinion , he got a little less shy and a lot more comfortable around her . A lot less scared.

And maybe that’s why he felt so comfortable agreeing to drink with her after a particularly good race . Allowing her to convince him to eat cake and drink champagne ,

Oscar found himself absolutely shitfaced on her couch. Very quickly reminded of why he didn’t drink , he was such a lightweight.

Which was how he found himself gazing at a equally as drunk Bee next to him on the coach, gazing at her like she had hung the moon in his sky.

His filter was gone and heart was on his drunken sleeve and he played with her soft hair in adoration.

“You’re so pretty. Like- like a plane.” He slurred to her.

Bee giggled quietly , nudging her head against his shoulder as she peered up at him with glassy eyes full of amusement . “Like a plane?”

Oscar nodded seriously “yeah but like the kind of plane people think are planes but then they blink and it’s the prettiest star in the sky. Not a plane.” He rambled to her passionately “you have such nice skin too.” He added as an after thought .

Bee was a giggling mess. “I think you’re really pretty too. I like your nose.” She whispered with a grin before planting a kiss on said nose affectionately.

He blushed , dazed. “Thank. I want to marry you.” He then blurted out without any grace , grinning drunkenly down at her like a sappy fool .

Bee laughed loudly in shock , looking up at him with a tipsy grin on her face. “Oh yeah? But you can barely even speak to me sober! How at you gonna marry me?” She teased him .

Oscar sniffled , serious when it came to how he felt about her , drunk or not .

“I’ve been working on it. I like doing things for you and seeing you smile. I like that you call me just to bitch about a bitch.” He replied honestly .

Bee felt her face soften as she saw the pure dedication on his face , all for her. She gently grabbed his face in her hand, stroking his red cheek with her thumb softly.

“You got a crush on me?” She whispered teasingly. Nudging her nose with his.

Oscar Just smiled and gently shook his head . “No. Much more than that.” He whispered back.

Bee smiled softly “yeah? You like me then?”

He laughed quietly and kissed the corner of her mouth gently , lingering there before pulling back just a little to see her eyes flutter closed.

“I love you.” He simply told her , drunk on champagne and his buzzy Bee. “So much it makes me silly. And I gave you my car even though I didn’t have another one and I want to hold your bag for you forever , and I want to make you lunch and kiss your face..” he whispered to her , blinking dazedly as the alcohol finally caught up to him.

He pulled the blanket further around their bodies , feeling her trembling breath on his lips as she looked at him with tears in her eyes. Knowing that he meant it too.

“I want you to be my girl.” He yawned.

She gently ran her fingers through his hair and laid down on the couch , letting him place his head on her chest tiredly as he snuggled up to her , intertwining their legs together .

“If you still feel this way in the morning , I will be.”

Too tired to speak anymore , he just linked his pinky finger with hers, a silent promise , and tucked his face further onto her neck . Letting her pull him close as he drifted off to sleep .

Oscar woke with a pounding head and a churning stomach , but he froze up as soon as he felt soft fingers in his hair. Sheepishly peering up at Bee’s amused face as she looked down at her with a tired smile on her face too.

“Morning sleepyhead. Sleep good?” She yawned. Tugging him closer to her , making his heart skip a beat.

Oscar nodded sheepishly then hesitantly cleared his throat as he remembered last night . Fidgeting with the strap of her top , he bit down on his bottom lip nervously as he wondered how to go about this.

“Bee?” He murmured shyly against her chest as he peered up at her through his lashes , letting out a content sigh at the feeling of her nails scratching lightly at his scalp , lulling him into calmness .

She smiled down at him knowingly “yeah?”

He hesitated for a moment , then muttered quietly “I’m not a forgetful morning after drunk.”

Bee just giggled “really? So you want to marry me then? Kiss my face forever?” She teased him softly.

Oscar just nodded, laughing sheepishly . “Yeah. I want to- I want you to be mine. My girlfriend. If you want that too.” He rambled anxiously “if you don’t want them that’s fine obviously -“

Bee giggled and quickly stopped him there “you want to date me?”

He nodded rapidly “so bad.”

She just smiled happily and casually muttered “okay.”

“Okay?” He repeated in disbelief .

She laughed in amusement “yup.”

He gaped at her , eyes wide and dazed “that easy? No fight? No negotiations?” He spluttered in disbelief .

She laughed loudly at him then “I love you Oscar okay? I want to be with you too , so yes it’s that easy.” She told him firmly . Easily . Simply.

Oscar felt like he was slipping into shock. “Cool.” Was all he could get out “I mean- I love you too. Yeah - this is awesome.” He grinned down at her happily . Overwhelmed with his love for her.

“Kiss?” He shyly asked while gently cupping her cheek in his hand , wide eyes gazing into hers , feeling like he was in a dream.

Bee just giggled before closing the gap and finally kissing him . Feeling the relieved breath he let out against her mouth as he finally relaxed against her , humming against her lips contently .

“Love you.” He mumbled into the kiss while smiling like a fool in love . “Love you so much.”

“I love you too.” She giggled as they continued to make out like teenagers on her couch.

Becoming teammates was the best thing they had ever done .

Lando was going to be the smuggest bastard ever when he found out that he was right .

#f1 imagine #formula one imagine #f1 oneshot #formula 1 imagine #oscar piastri imagine #Oscar piastri oneshot #f1 fic

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yuesya · 4 months

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Ryomen Sukuna, the double-faced specter. The undisputed King of Curses, who had claimed the title of Strongest in his time.

… Versus Gojo Satoru. The Strongest sorcerer of the modern age –the strongest by a wide margin. In this world, at least. Back in his own world, where everything (hopefully) hasn’t gone to hell in a handbasket, Geto Suguru can confidently say that it’s Gojo Satoru and Gojo Shiki who hold the title of ‘Strongest’ together between the two of them.

Suguru had never paused to think what the world might be like without them. Either of them. And in this strange new world that he’d been thrown headfirst into without any warning, in this world where Shiki doesn’t exist and Suguru himself is dead and Satoru is left to carry everything alone, it…

It means that Satoru says that he will face Sukuna by himself, and everyone else nods along to this like it’s a foregone conclusion. As if it’s only natural. And perhaps it is, and Suguru knows that Satoru has always enjoyed a challenge, but–

It’s not the same. It’s not the same. Even though rationally, he knows that the Gojo Satoru in this world isn’t his Satoru, Suguru can’t help but worry for him, even despite the smooth confidence that the other man wears like a second skin. His friends and students in this world worry too, but Suguru can see how a not-insignificant number of them also look like they can’t fathom the thought of Gojo losing.

Because Gojo-sensei is the strongest. Invincible. Immaculate and utterly untouchable, and there is no one else who comes close to approaching him.

(“Stay with us, Suguru?”)

… Suguru worries for him.

It’s why he remains at the outskirts of the battlefield, when Gojo clashes with Sukuna. Hovering, watching, as the two sorcerers tear apart their surroundings; bridges collapsing and buildings ripped apart like wet paper. Suguru himself is a Special Grade sorcerer, but the level of a fight like this remains a cut beyond him, still. Just the multiple back-to-back Domain Expansions alone would’ve been more than enough to kill him several times over. He can feel the hairs rising on the back of his neck at the cursed energy saturating the air, and the sheer power that they throw around so easily…

It’s something that he’s only ever witnessed from Satoru and Shiki before.

…

He doesn’t know how to describe it. In the aftermath of the single most destructive release of Hollow Purple that Suguru has ever seen, Gojo’s victory appears imminent. But even riddled with injuries and missing half his body as he is, Sukuna looks up with Megumi’s face and smiles, baring his teeth as he brings his hand up in a sharp slashing motion, and–

And something inside Suguru twists, blood thundering in his ears, and his reaction is entirely instinctive. Probably the result of one too many heart attacks that Satoru and Shiki have put him through over the years, if he’s being honest here–

Rainbow Dragon, the most powerful defensive cursed spirit in Suguru’s arsenal, falls to the ground in a spray of red-violet blood, sliced in half. It does not move again, and Suguru knows that it will never move again –his connection to the cursed spirit had been severed instantaneously.

But it’s worth it. Because this means that, instead of having his upper torso separated from the rest of his body, Gojo is only missing an arm and a good portion of his shoulder. It’s his right arm, though, which isn’t good; he’ll need to regenerate the limb in order to form seals for his techniques with his hand–

“… Geto?”

“Gojo,” Suguru returns breathlessly, and then there’s no more time for idle talk. Not when Sukuna laughs, and falls upon them, already having healed from his own wounds –grievous wounds that would’ve killed any other sorcerer three times over. Not when the demon is somehow able to cut through Gojo Satoru’s Limitless technique, how is that possible?!

They struggle, and fight, and do their best. It’s not enough. Suguru and Gojo aren’t as in sync with each other as they need to be against an opponent like Ryomen Sukuna. And while Suguru is a Special Grade sorcerer, he’s not a Special Grade the way that Gojo and Sukuna are–!

Even so, Suguru grits his teeth and fights, tooth and nail, because the only other alternative now that he’s well and truly involved in this (as if he could turn his back on Satoru, any version of Satoru) is to give up, and Suguru refuses to do that.

… Is this how I’m going to die?

…

In the brief instant right before Suguru knows that he is about to face certain death, when his mind is only full of an endless refrain of Satoru, Shiki, somehow–

Sukuna stops.

The monster puppeteering Megumi’s body freezes, and looks upwards. It takes a moment for Suguru to register this odd, odd reaction, and he…

… he can’t exactly blame him.

Because when Suguru decides to take his chances and glances upwards himself to see what suddenly caught Sukuna’s attention, it’s abundantly clear that there’s something wrong. The sky –pulses, for lack of a better word. A strange sort of ripple that materializes in this space without any rhyme or reason, before it stretches open, a yawning circle of something–

Something–

Nothing.

Everything.

… What opens up in the sky in this moment is a chalice of purest darkness, overflowing with brilliant light. The frozen dawn, wrought with evening stars. There are flames curling within ice, meteorites shattering into dust, entire galaxies that wither and bloom–

It doesn’t make any sense. It’s utterly incomprehensible. Suguru stares up at the yawning, gaping maw of– of something, surely, but at the same time he doesn’t know what he’s seeing at all. Infinite possibilities, finite endings. Suguru stares and stares, trying to make sense of what he’s seeing, but the more he peers into that unfathomable void in the sky, the less he can decipher from it.

It’s… almost as if his mind simply refuses to register what he’s seeing.

Then, there is a hand.

A pale, white hand, reaching out with open fingers splayed into the air. And he does mean white, alabaster-white. The hand is followed by a slender wrist, than an entire arm, and a shoulder–

… It’s a person, that much is evident from the humanoid form. The towering creature that emerges from the hole in the sky is most certainly not a person, though. In terms of size, it’s probably large enough to rival Mahoraga. And in terms of color, their coloring is wrong.

White. Solidly stark-white, like a statue carved from marble. A flawless and unblemished human form, to be sure; a distinctly androgynous work of perfection that cannot be mistaken for anything other than unnatural.

Two arms fall down at its sides, while two more sweep out with palms faced upwards. The creature also has two heads. One is attached normally to the body as a regular human would be, while the other is offset slightly above it, much like an attentive brother overlooking his sister from behind, for all their eerie similarities–

–hold on just a fucking moment.

That’s… holy shit. Holy shit. Suguru knows those faces, would know it anywhere, even on his deathbed–!

His mind promptly short-circuits at the mind-shattering revelation. It takes a solid moment, before he’s finally able to loosen his tongue enough to speak again.

“… Satoru,” Suguru whispers disbelievingly, hoping against hope and knowing what he sees down to his very soul. “Shiki?”

What the hell. What the hell.

Suguru, his beautiful, beloved, utterly mad lunatics say to him, voice sweet and ringing with dual-toned laughter. Never play hide-and-seek with us like this again.

#Writing #zenith of stars au #twin cannons au #since it's kinda been mentioned here and there in various asks before #ta-da!#i did my best to make this thing [REDACTED]-free #eldritch abomination sato-shiki lands in twin cannons-verse #well-timed entrance in their search for suguru haha #this would be the sato-shiki that truly has a cult following #suguru: i left you guys alone for a month and you got a cult??

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jasmineiros · 6 months

Text

I wasn't going to post this here due to the somewhat sensitive subject of idolization of celebrities and I actually already vented on Instagram stories, but once the dam breaks out it's useless to even try to contain it. And the only thing that is flooding my mind now is rage.

I already hated millionaires, but after Taylor Swift came to Brazil to that freaking circus people called a concert, I hated them even more.

In case you're not aware, Brazil is dealing incredibly badly with the climate crisis. In Rio they hit the temperature of 60°C (100F, but the sensation was of 140F). It was the highest temperature registered SO FAR. A mix of this unbearable heat and the fact that the staff managing the production of concert used certain materials such as god-damned metal to cover certain structures made several people to get severe burns and 23-year-old die of a heart attack.

Now, that's where the irony comes.

After hearing the news, the best Taylor could ever do was posting a stories saying "how sorry she was and she was so young and she was so beautiful and blablabla" but also very vehemently reinforcing that "due to her grief she wasn't going to say anything about it during the show". I mean, a person who technically loved her, had to get donations to travel across the country and literally died because of this god-damned concert and you can't even make a tiny, small tribute for her. She didn't even mention her name in the stories, which was Ana Clara, btw.

She or the staff never reached out to the family to ask if they needed anything, even though they absolutely had the means to do it. Several years ago, when a Rihanna fan was murdered, she personally paid for the expenses of the funeral, because the family couldn't afford it.

And it gets worse.

She cancelled her next performances due to the climate issues. Being herself is the biggest celebrity CO2e polluter of this year so far. And she got back to the US. In a fucking private jet.

I mean, this combo couldn't be more unbelievable. She not only completely dehumanized an incredibly painful and serious situation, as she, with the 1% of magnates that literally rule this planet, is simply the root cause of the imminent destruction of this planet but it doesn't matter, as long as she still has money being shoved into that white ass of hers.

Or maybe I'm being naive, maybe it's our fault, after all, monkeys are meant to the zoo, not to be in the presence of an untouchable, perfect and almighty nature force such as she, since apparently she can't even breathe the same air we do by just using a freaking common airplane, like a sensitive and sane person would.

The fact that she will just run out and make other concerts with that same innocent angel aura, even though she displays a borderline psychopath behavior, like she still was the 16-year-old girl writing songs about her break ups is absolutely unbelievable to me.

This is just so similar to when that cryptofascist piece of trash of Aurora decided it would be just a good idea to make a shallow and generic discourse about love and acceptance and how everyone is being cancelled nowadays when a member of her band posted and gestured dog whistle supremacy symbols on more than one occasion.

Honestly I wish I could feel anything else right now, but the only thing I can still manage to internalize and express is pure hate.

#yara.txt #taylor swift #anti taylor swift #anti swifties #swifties dni #anti capitalism

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hyperactively-me · 5 months

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Heyyy!!! It’s me again, DogHandler!Graves anon 😁😁 just for the heck of it, what if our dear Princess is riding her trusty steed out in the fields close to the forest’s edge. The whole time, she feels eyes on her as if she’s being watched. Right before she is attacked by a wild creature, Graves and his pack of dogs chase the beast away and now they both have to explain to King!Simon what they were doing with each other…. Out where no one could see what was going on? I love drama 😊😊😊😊😊

i really liked this prompt and the whole doghandler!graves character! i had a bit of a hard time conveying my ideas/thoughts for this prompt, and i've tried rewriting it, but this is the best i can do! hopefully you like it 🙏

king!ghost x reader -- forest's edge

You sit atop your majestic horse, her hooves rhythmically pounding against the soft earth beneath. The golden fields stretch out before you, the tall grass a sea of undulating waves, bathed in the warm hues of the sun. You revel in the freedom of the open air, the wind tousling your hair as you ride close to the forest’s edge.

Simon had been reluctant to let you venture too far, his concerns and protests echoing in your ears. He was not keen on the idea of you going out by yourself, especially since the attack, but you were adamant in your request. You reassured him that a simple ride by yourself posed no danger. Besides, you had his knife with you, and the knights and guards were not too far away. “I just need some alone time,” you had said gently. With a tender smile and a promise to return promptly, you convinced him of your safety.

Despite Simon’s initial reservations, you felt an overwhelming sense of liberation. The scent of blooming wildflowers and the earthy aroma of the field filled the air, permeating you with a deep connection to the land you ruled.

This is just what you needed after being cooped up in the palace for the past month and a half. As you ride closer to the forest, the scent of pine mingled with the fragrant wildflowers, invigorating your senses. You finally approach the edge, a canopy of ancient trees looming overhead, casting dappled shadows on the ground. The air grew slightly cooler, and a subtle sense of unease creeps over you.

You shake off the feeling, trying to push it away, just thinking that it was residual anxiety from being attacked. Still, you can’t help but glance around, unable to shake the feeling that eyes were watching your every move. Undeterred, you urge your horse forward, the clopping of hooves accompanying the rustle of leaves underfoot. The forest’s edge murmurs with the distant call of woodland creatures.

Then, without warning, a chill runs down your spine. A primal instinct warns you of imminent danger, and your breath catches in your throat. Your horse, sensing your unease, snorts and paws at the ground.

A glance around reveals only the stillness of the woods, yet the sensation persists, an unsettling undercurrent in the air. Your hand instinctively tightens around the knife at your waist. The horse beneath you fidgeted, its ears flicking nervously as it senses the shift in atmosphere. Despite your attempts to dismiss the feeling, a quiet voice within you urged caution. The recent attack had left scars that weren’t quite healed.

With a frustrated huff, you decide to turn around and head back to the castle, hands shaking slightly with adrenaline and fear. Your horse seems eager to move away, its muscles tense beneath you.

Then, the air itself seemed to hold its breath. A guttural growl echoed through the ambiance, and your heart skips a beat. Your vision goes slightly blurry from fear, hands pulling at the reins of your horse. The wild creature, or another of its kin, emerges from the shadows, eyes narrowed and taking slow steps towards you. Panic tightens your chest as the beast lunges towards your horse, teeth bared in a predatory snarl. A strangled scream rips from your throat, and time seems to slow as the wild creature closes the distance between you and the safety of the open fields. Your horse rears back, and you lean forward to keep your balance in the saddle.

Before the beast could lay siege on your horse, a chorus of ferocious barks and snarls erupts. Graves appears with his pack of loyal hounds, galloping on his own horse with full speed in your direction. The dogs, trained for moments like these, leap into action, a blur of fur and teeth tearing into the beast. The wild creature, caught off guard by the unexpected counterattack, recoils under their relentless attack. The snarls and growls of the beast counters the disciplined barks of the royal dogs. The pack, fueled by their loyalty and training, forms a barrier between you and the impending threat. Graves swoops in, steering the skirmish away from you, ensuring your safety.

You back your horse away from the epicenter of the struggle, leading her away whilst you stroke her mane reassuringly, whispering praises in her ear. The dogs finally drive the wild creature back into the shadows of the forest, and you watch it retreat with a defeated growl, disappearing into the depths of the forest.

Breathing heavily, you watch as Graves and his pack secure the perimeter, ensuring that the danger has passed. The royal dogs, panting but triumphant, return to Graves’ side, their loyalty unwavering. Graves approaches you on his steed, concern etched on his face.

“Your Majesty, are you alright? Are you hurt?” Graves asks, his eyes scanning you for any signs of injury, his voice calm yet carrying an unsettling edge.

You shake your head, adrenaline still coursing through your veins. “No, no, I’m fine.”

You look at him, a surge of exasperation and frustration now washing over you. “I really don’t know how I keep finding myself in these situations,” you laugh humorlessly.

Graves offers you a reassuring look, his gaze locked onto you. “It’s the unpredictability of the wild, your majesty. A one-off occurrence, I’m sure.”

You sigh, guiding your horse farther away from the forest. The dogs circle around your feet, as if pushing you back home.

“I’m going to escort you back to the castle now,” Graves says, leading his horse closer to yours. The royal dogs fall in line, swarming around the feet of Graves.

“Thank you for chasing the creature away,” you say quietly, eyes fixed on the grass ahead of you.

Graves leans close over his saddle, as if trying to get a little closer to you. “It’s always my pleasure to serve, especially when it involves ensuring the safety of such a... precious ruler. And besides, it’s what the dogs are trained to do.”

You can’t help but feel grateful for the distance between you and Graves right now, as the last time you met him he was a bit too friendly with you. Although, he had now just saved your life. Oh god, what was Simon going to think?

“We don’t have to tell—”

“I must.”

You’re silent. You roll the thought over in your head once more.

You sigh, realizing that Graves is right. “You're right. It’s just... Ghost has been worried enough, and I don’t want to add to his concerns.”

“Worried or not, your safety is of utmost importance. The King wouldn’t want his wife to be hurt under the watch of a member of the guard? It’s my duty to report these kinds of ordeals.”

You glance at him, and his gaze is intense, almost unnerving. You tighten your grip on the reins, just desperately wanting to arrive home quicker, all thoughts of having a little bit of alone time vanishing. You’re grateful he stepped in; after all, he did save your life, but you don’t really want that to be held over your head.

As you ride alongside Graves and the loyal pack of dogs, the journey back is quieter than before. The golden fields seem less inviting, and the forest holds an air of caution. The sun dips lower on the horizon, casting long shadows that stretch across the landscape.

Simon is going to lose his shit.

. . .

The moment you both arrive at the castle, some stablehands take care of your horses. Immediately, you and Graves are off to Simon’s study to report what happened in the fields. You walk slowly on purpose, trying to delay the inevitable of Simon potentially blowing a fuse.

You happen to catch Soap’s eyes as you make your way down the hall. He flashes you a look of confusion, motioning to Graves beside you. You shrug, indicating that you’ll explain later. Soap pauses for a moment as if deciding whether or not to intervene, but he nods in understanding as you flash him a reassuring look and continues on his way.

The study door looms ahead, and you exchange a fleeting glance with Graves. His expression is unreadable, but you can sense a trace of tension. Taking a deep breath, you knock twice on the mahogany doors of Simon’s study, gently, as if already trying to calm his impending anger. Graves adjusts his clothes, tugging at his collar.

The low timber of his voice rumbles through the door, Come in.

Simon, in all his regal attire, stands up the moment you both enter. His eyes narrow at the sight of you accompanied by Graves. He sighs, moving from behind his desk to stand in front of you both.

“What happened?” Simon’s voice is stern, his worry evident beneath the hard surface.

Graves steps forward, his posture rigid yet composed, and begins recounting the encounter in the forest. Simon listens attentively, his face growing darker with each passing moment.

“It was an unexpected threat, but the dogs managed the creature. Her majesty is unharmed. I made sure of it.”

When Graves finishes his report, a heavy silence descends upon the room. Simon’s gaze shifts from Graves to you, his jaw clenched as the concern deepens in his gaze. The air is thick with tension, and you brace yourself for the storm.

“Is this true? Are you unharmed?” he asks, his voice hard.

You nod, giving him a reassuring look. “Yes, Simon. Graves and the dogs intervened in time. I’m fine.”

He nods, taking a moment to collect himself before speaking. He shifts his attention back to Graves, clearing his throat.

“I appreciate your, uh quick judgment, Graves. Thank you for ensuring the safety of my wife.”

Graves has a smug expression on his face, knowing that Simon has no other choice than to be grateful that he stepped in. Deep down, you knew Graves was only this giddy because Simon couldn’t be upset with him, and if it were any other situation, Simon would’ve reprimanded him.

You think that’s the end of that, but Simon continues speaking.

“However, I can’t help but wonder why she was with you alone in the first place, especially after what happened a few months ago.”

Graves clears his throat, seemingly caught off guard by the directness of Simon’s scrutiny. You shift uncomfortably, rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet. Simon’s gaze is still dead set on Graves. Graves begins to explain, carefully choosing his words.

“Your majesty, I was merely nearby with the dogs. I just happened to be training them, as the royal dog handler does. I spotted her majesty quite a while away, and alone, so I felt the obligation to ensure her safety. I couldn’t stand by and let harm come to her.”

Simon's eyes narrow, skepticism etched on his face. “Training the dogs, you say? Alone near the forest? Graves, you know the queen's safety is a top priority, but it seems you went beyond your duties. I thought I made myself clear.”

Graves scoffs, and you immediately tense beside him. “Would you rather me watch the queen be attacked and possibly killed?”

Simon’s jaw ticks, and even he knows that he’s being slightly unreasonable. He can’t exactly be mad at Graves. How silly would it be, being mad that he potentially saved the life of the queen? His stern expression deepens, and for a moment, it feels as if the air in the room has thickened. The tension between the king and Graves could be cut by a knife. Simon takes a step closer, his gaze unwavering.

“Okay, um, listen,” you begin, and both men turn to look at you with expectant eyes. Your voice breaks the silence that had settled in the room, and their eyes bore into you.

“I appreciate Graves’ quick response, Simon, really, I do. Things could’ve gone really bad if he wasn’t there. But, I’m also not sorry for wanting to have alone time. And before you can tell me that it was a bad idea to begin with, I am honestly willing to take that risk again. I understand that there’s always going to be risks of going alone, but at the end of the day, I need those moments for myself. I can’t be confined to the palace all the time because of fear. I trust myself to be cautious. This incident doesn’t change that, and I will not let fear dictate my every move.”

Simon’s gaze softens as he listens to your impassioned plea, but the furrow in his brow remains. Graves remains silent, a tense expression still etched on his face. Simon opens his mouth as if to say something, but he shuts it instead, saving the thought until after Graves leaves.

“Again, I appreciate your dedication to the safety of the queen, Graves, but there are protocols for a reason,” Simon responds, his tone measured but firm.

Graves remains composed, though a flicker of irritation shows in his expression. “Your majesty, I understand the concerns. I assure you, it was a matter of coincidence that I was in the vicinity. The safety of the queen is of chief importance to me and the rest of the kingdom.”

“Right. Of course. Thank you. But know, I won't tolerate any deviation that compromises my wife’s well-being,” Simon asserts, his eyes narrowing at Graves.

You pick at your fingernails absentmindedly, trying to ignore the way they’re talking about you as if you weren’t standing right there.

Graves nods stiffly, a curt acknowledgment of the king’s directive. “Understood, your majesty. My only concern was with the queen’s safety.”

With a final, scrutinizing look, Simon dismisses Graves from the study.

“Thank you again for your timely response. We’ll discuss this further later. I need a moment alone with my wife.”

Graves bows slightly and leaves, flashing you a look, the tension lingering in the air even after the door closes behind him.

Simon turns his attention back to you, his expression softening as he crosses the room to stand in front of you. There’s a mixture of relief and worry in his eyes.

“Are you really alright?” he asks, his voice gentle now.

You nod, grateful for the chance to speak with Simon alone. “Yes, Simon, I’m fine, I swear. Graves got there in time, and besides, it was really the dogs that handled the situation. I’m completely unharmed.”

He exhales, running a hand through his hair. “I worry about you,” he admits, his voice softer now. “I can't help but worry, especially after what happened before. With Graves, and with the attack.”

You approach him, running your hand up and down his arm soothingly.

“And it was just you and Graves?”

You wince at that, registering his pointed look. “Yes, it was. But he didn’t do anything. I would’ve told you the moment I saw you if he did.”

He grumbles quietly, pacing back and forth a few times before stopping and turning to you.

“It’s time you should have a personal knight. I should’ve done this months ago.”

You raise an eyebrow at Simon’s suggestion. “A personal knight? Really? I appreciate the concern, but isn’t that a bit excessive?”

Simon looks at you with a stern expression. “After what just happened, I think it’s necessary. I can’t have you wandering off alone, especially after the attack and now this. We need to take extra precautions.”

You sigh, realizing that arguing with Simon on this matter might be futile. “Fine, if it makes you feel better, but I don’t want a knight glued to my side every moment. Only when deemed absolutely necessary, from the both of us. And only when I’m outside the castle walls. Is that alright with you?” You question, standing your ground whilst stating your boundaries.

Simon nods in agreement with your boundaries. “It will only be necessary when you’re outside of the castle walls, alone. Of course, they’ll keep a respectful distance according to your desires, but they will still be there.”

“Okay, but, I don't want to feel like I’m under constant surveillance. I feel like it could get stifling real fast, Si.”

Simon sighs, understanding that finding the right balance is crucial. He comes closer and takes your hands in his.

“I understand, love. We’ll find a way to make this work without making you feel suffocated. I don’t want you to feel like you’re losing your freedom, but I also want you to see this situation from my perspective,” Simon reassures you.

You give him a small smile, appreciating his willingness to compromise, being the stubborn man he usually is. “Thank you, Simon. I know you’re just worried, and I appreciate that. We can figure this out together.”

Simon looks down at you, his eyes searching yours for reassurance. He takes a breath.

“I know you’re strong, and I respect that. It’s just that... time and time again, there’s always something happening that involves your wellbeing, and it’s… it’s difficult to deal with.”

You nod, knowing full well that he’s trying not to relive his past. He lost his whole family, blaming himself for their untimely deaths. He wouldn’t make that same mistake again.

You lean in, pressing up onto your toes to place a gentle kiss on Simon’s cheek. “I completely understand, Simon. We’re a team. I promise to be cautious, but I also need moments to myself. It doesn’t mean I’m not grateful for you thoughtfulness and protection; it’s just about finding a balance and trust.”

Simon looks at you with gratitude, his eyes reflecting a mixture of love and concern. “I trust you with every fiber of my being. I just want you safe, and sometimes my worries get the best of me. Just… promise me you’ll be careful.”

“I promise,” you assure him, leaning in for a gentle kiss.

- - - - -

(masterlist)

#simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon “ghost” riley x reader #simon “ghost” riley x you #hyperactivelyme

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