#Destiny Whispers are stupid

[lovifie]

Well, I Wasn't On That Tunnel ❤️

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Please don't look too much into the plot holes. Canon can suck my ass, I'm making my own, xoxo 💋

Pairings: Ghoap x Reader.

Warnings: Poly relationship, mentions of death, mentions of guns, rotating POV (mostly Simon's), Spoilers → amnesia, smut, voyeurism

“THE TUNNEL IT'S COLLAPSING! FOLLOW MAKAROV! I'LL TAKE JOHNNY OUT!”

That was the last thing Ghost heard of you.

It's been months since Johnny and you were declared KIA on that mission. 

You weren't even meant to be inside, you were the medic, you were supposed to wait outside. 

But the moment Makarov shot Johnny he panicked.

Ghost panicked.

And Simon panicked.

You came in running, panting for the effort of carrying with you the medical bag half your size. 

You were the one who told them to run. To go after Makarov and kill him. 

You were trying to wake up Johnny, Ghost knew it was a lost cause. He couldn't find the pulse, he was gone.

His Johnny was gone.

The last thing he expected was that he was about to lose you too.

Once outside, he kept looking at the tunnel. Waiting for you to come out, whether it was dragging Johnny's body or alone; it didn't matter. You needed to get out.

But after the tunnel collapsed and you didn't get out, it was Price who finally pushed Ghost away.

He barely remembers getting back to base, doesn't remember what Price kept telling him on the helicopter, doesn't remember skipping meals for days, doesn't remember crying himself to sleep for weeks.

But he remembers your face, he remembers Johnny's face.

Oh, what a coward he was. 

Two people that he loved, that found their way under his skin right into his heart. Two people that Simon wanted to grow old next to, two people that made Simon want to wake up every morning. 

And he was still not brave enough to confess his feelings to neither of them.

He used to stay awake late at night dreaming about how he would do it. After a long time of debating with himself, figuring out what those feelings inside of him were.

Until he figured out it was love, only to them have to face the complex situation of loving two people at the same time.

But even how complicated of a man Simon Riley was, when it comes to his wants it all turns simpler. If on the menu there are two dishes that he likes? He is getting both, obviously. Why choose?

So if all his lonely and twisted life he had never loved anyone, now he suddenly fell in love with two people. He wasn't going to give up one of them and their love just for society's norms.

Murder is also against society’s norms, and he gets paid for it. 

But it was too late now.

Maybe it was for the better.

He could lie to himself, agree that he never confessed because it was not his destiny. 

Not because they would have not loved him back. 

Not because they would have been scared of him.

Not because they wouldn't have been able to see past his mask. 

Not because they would have rather dated each other than him.

It's easier like this.

Simon knows how to mourn a loved one. 

What he doesn't know is, how it's possible he got a message from you this morning when you died four months ago.

You are stepping out of the shower, skin warm from the water and baby hairs sticking to your forehead; when someone knocks on the bathroom door.

You furrow your eyebrows at how hard they knock, the whole door shaking with it.

“Calm down, I'm almost finished.” You grumble, pulling the towel around your body. 

You drag your feet over the towel on the floor to walk closer, and open the door annoyed by the insistent knocking.

“I told you I am almost finish-” Your words are cut off by the barrel of a gun right on your face.

You don't even have time to panic, because you immediately recognise the stupid skeleton gloves holding the gun.

“Simon?” You whisper,scared that if you talk any louder he will disappear. Price and Gaz are behind him, slowly lowering their gun when they see it's you.

There is a glistering layer over Ghost's eyes that if you didn't known any better you'd think are tears.

You push his gun down, the man still immobile as if you were the ghost; and you jump into his arms, circling his neck with your arms.

“It worked! It finally worked!” You exclaim, tears slowly running down your cheeks. “I have been trying to contact any of you for months, it finally fucking worked!”

Ghost struggles to tell whether you are laughing or crying, a mix of the two. But he can't focus on that, he can only focus on your skin under his gloves.

God, how he hated his gloves right now. 

He bites the tip of his finger, pulling the glove off spitting it somewhere. And he snakes his hand under your towel.

He knows is improper, perverted even; but he needs it. He needs to feel your warm skin under his palm, your heart beating loud and fast. 

He surrounds your waist, hands big enough to rest on your ribs, right under your chest. 

Boom, boom… boom, boom… boom, boom…

He sighs, melting onto you, his tears getting absorbed by the mask on his face. He hugs you tighter, daring you to slip from his fingers again.

He bites his lips, copper taste on his tongue, to prevent himself from sobbing.

But the sobs can be heard, and Ghost it's almost disappointed with himself until he notices your body shaking.

It's you who is crying.

And he panics again, pulling back to look at you and you cup your face, apologizing. 

“I'm sorry. I tried my best, I really did.” He can barely understand what you are trying to tell him between sobs. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry.”

He shushes you quickly, he understands; the survivor’s guilt is a special kind of poison. But he understands, he feels it too. 

“It's alright, love. You are alright, everything is going to be alright.” He hugs you again, resting your head on his chest. Mourning Johnny will be easier if you are together, he now hates himself for thinking you were dead; for accepting it.

For mourning you for months and now having you on his arms. 

Warm and breathing. 

He can only imagine what you went through. 

You entered the tunnel because he called for you, and then he left you inside with a corpse. 

How did you get out?

How did anyone see you get out?

How did you find a house?

How did you survive alone with the guilt?

Are the scars on your shoulder for getting out or were they always there?

Were you trapped under the debris?

For how long?

But that doesn't matter, he knew you were strong. That you were clever. That you were better than him. 

He already knew that. 

Gaz and Price remain silent, reading in the situation that there is something underlying that they don't know. Letting the two of you, have your moment. 

It's only when Gaz hears the almost unnoticeable steps get closer that he moves, turning his body and almost dropping his weapon in the process when he sees him.

“Johnny?” That's all he is able to see.

And that's all that is needed to hear.

Price and Ghost whip their head around like they have been smacked, coming face to face with the man.

There are still bandages on the side of his head, he looks thinner, less muscles, sunken eyes and dark bags. But it's Johnny. 

A scarred, angry Johnny. 

Holding the pistol on his hands pointing to Ghost's head.

Looking at him as if Simon was his greatest enemy.

“Johnny…” He tries to talk to him, keeping you behind his back by instincts.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP! WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?” Johnny shouts, his hands are shaking.

That explains it, why he look like a madman, why he looks so scared under the rage, why he keeps trying to look under him.

“Johnny, it's alright.” You finally say, moving from behind Ghost, softly pushing his arm back. You walk ahead, still only on the towel; and you walk up to Johnny. You rest your hand on the pistol, pushing it down with ease. 

You raise your other hand to the men, the signal of “wait”.

Johnny looks at you with utter confusion, eyes shaking moving around your face for any kind of explanation. His hand move around you, checking for any damage; the hand that doesn't have the gun clinging to the towel. 

You cup his face between your hands, the man bending down slightly to make it easier for you to reach; you whisper something to him making him relax almost immediately. 

And then you kiss him.

On the cheek, right beside the nose making him close his eyes for a second.

But it feels like a stab on Simon's heart. 

He tries to think rationally, you were just calming him down. He knows Johnny is always desperate for physical contact, that's all. Nothing else. 

He really tries to think logically, but logically the two of you are dead and buried under a tunnel. Not standing at the end of the hall, kissing and comforting each other. 

Something about it, about the possibility there is something more going on between Johnny and you; sends Simon's inner gears spinning. 

He sees the virtual space between the two of you, slowly getting in the shape of his body.

You whisper something to Johnny, he nods, touching your forehead with his for a second, before walking back. Looking at Simon with hate on his cerulean blue eyes. 

You sigh, watching Johnny move and turn to the three still shell-shocked. 

“As far as I can tell…” You whisper, once you are close to them. “He only remembers up to when he was 20, little more, little less.”

“So he doesn't remember anyone?” Price asks after a moment.

You shake your head. “Not that he hasn't asked me about, he asked about some people but I don't know them. He thought I was a nurse when he woke up.” You explain.

“What happened in the tunnel?” Gaz asks, looking behind you to check Johnny is not back. “How did you get out? And him? He was dead.”

You shake your head again. “Not yet. Almost… but not yet. I-”

“Bonnie! You want coffee or tea?!” Johnny's voice makes everyone jump.

“Coffee, please!” You answer without skipping a beat and turn to them. “I'll explain it later, alright? It's not the place nor the time.”

Price nods once. “Get dressed, I'll contact the pilot to let them know we are flying back tonight, right?”

“Roger that.” The three of you reply almost by muscle memory.

“I'll be fast, don't rile him up.” You say, before entering the bedroom closing it behind you.

Ghost feels Price's eyes on him. 

Wondering.

Asking.

What's between you and him?

What's between you and Soap?

What's inside his mind?

“Tea is ready.” It all gets interrupted by the amnesiac man calling them to the kitchen.

They walk together, sitting around the table. Gaz and Price find it almost easy to talk to Soap, about how happy they are to see him again, about how they are flying back later, easy chatter.

But Ghost can't. 

Not when Soap finally smiles at Price making fun of Gaz's cap and Ghost's breath is knocked out of his chest. 

That's his boy.

Breathing and warm.

Just like you.

He knows it's the universe talking, telling him not to fuck it up again.

Still, he feels his heart sink every time Soap looks at him with such a sour look. Offended even. His boy.

That would jump at any opportunity to impress him, to earn his respect, his affection. Now locked like he wanted to stab him on the chest, twisting the knife in the process.

He knows it's because of you, the way the man stared at his hand as you pushed it out of the towel didn't go unnoticed by Simon. 

Not the greatest first impression. 

Does it count as a first impression if he has known the man for years? 

You walk into the kitchen not much later, Johnny's eyes lightening at seeing you; his saviour. 

You walk past Ghost, your arm resting on his shoulder as you bend down to slightly knock your head against Soap's.

And that's it, that all Simon's needs. To be involved. He doesn't need to be in the middle of you two, he is fine with being in the sidelines, but he needs to be a part of it.

He knows you are on his side, you remember him unlike Johnny. You can be the bridge to get him to Johnny; to keep Johnny from running. Make a pack with him; keep the two of you close.

A turmoil of emotions keeps spinning inside Ghost's head, all the versions of himself wanting to be right.

The part of him he thinks is unable to love telling him to let the two of you alone, you are better of without him.

The part of him he thinks is unable to be loved telling him to not even try, save himself the rejection. 

The part of him that is still unsure of what even are his feelings telling him to not get involved, that it would only confuse the two of you.

But then there is also that part of him. The part called Simon Riley; that still holds onto the chance of loving and getting love.

And he looks at you and Soap, the way Soap looks up to you. The way he used to look at him. 

“Let's pack our things up, Johnny.” You say, patting Soap’s back. “The sooner we are back home, the better.”

And you smile at Soap so kindly, so wide, so warm.

He understands how you managed to calm Soap down. Waking up from what he assumed must be something close to a coma after getting shot on the head, not remembering anything, in pain, alone. And then you appeared, so soft and so kind.

He wouldn't blame Johnny if he was already in love with you, with you being literally the only thing he knows since waking up. 

Johnny stands up, walking out of the kitchen but looking back to make sure you are walking behind him. 

The two of you disappear down the hall, voices low as you move away.

“I can't believe they are alive…” Gaz comments, sipping his tea.

“Neither do I…” Price answers, sipping his. “Bloody necromancer…”

And you are, Simon was also dead before meeting you. 

“I'm gonna check on them.” He says, downing the beverage on a gulp that burns down his throat. 

He stands up, Price and Gaz look at him as he does. They are going to talk about him as soon as he gets out, but he doesn't care. 

He has made his choice.

He loves you.

He loves Johnny.

He walks down the hall, seeing the door ajar.

His hand reaches the knob when he hears it.

His blood running cold.

“Johnny…”

It's your sweet voice moaning the name. 

The unmistakable sounds of kisses inside the room.

“I don't like how he looks at you, bonnie.” The man whispers, his breathing unstable.

“He's your best friend, Joh-Ah!” You moan, interrupting yourself as you speak.

“I don't care! I don't know him. You are mine!” The man grunts, the sound of skin slapping slowly becoming more and more clear. 

“Johnny…” You moan again, and Simon is sure that he can hear your cunt squelch around Johnny's length. 

He opens the door the slightest bit, just enough for his eyes to see the way Johnny has you bent over on the bed. 

With you laying on your stomach on the bed, legs hanging from him without strength to push yourself up. Johnny behind you, a foot on the ground and the other on the mattress as leverage to keep sinking into your weeping cunt.

Neither of you bothered to take off the clothes, simply lowered the pants enough for Johnny to get inside of you. Your pants pooling on your ankles, legs limp with the rhythm Johnny has settled.

Simon wishes he could see your face, pleasure painted on your expressions with your face buried on the mattress. Johnny keeps your hands on your back, keeping you pressed against the bed. But the only thing he can see is Johnny's back.

So he sees perfectly fine when the man turns his torso around, still thrusting into you, and looks at Simon.

He looks straight into Simon's eyes, who panic just for a second for getting caught peeking into their room, into them together.

But the Johnny smiles, not the adoration-filled smile he used to gift Simon with. Instead, is the smile filled with pride that he only kept for after winning a match or catching an enemy.

Johnny raises his hand to show him his middle finger.

As he mouths “Fuck you.”

And Simon wants to laugh.

Johnny wants to play?

Then they'll play.

Game's on.

@waiting-so-long

Taglist: @whos-fran @thevoidwriting @sklt987659 @kayden666 @dumb12bvtch1212 @thatonepupkai @darkangel4121 @risingofjupiter @spadekip @herefor-tojis-tits @soupinasock @marymustdie @arbesa-mind @cmbghost @multifandomheathenannie @tooloudarts @panikk-attackkk @reap3erslov3 @mothsdrabbles @ghosts-hoe @cassiecasluciluce @sleepdeprivedkat @lunamoonbby @hatterripper31 @contractedcriteria @cod-z @jaguarthecat @savagemickey03 @fraserbraw @rosiehale23 @keiva1000 @sw33tsnow @viisgrave @theloneshadow24 @loveandplanet @sobbingnshtting @dprmoon @simpsallthetime1997 @ladyxtiger @soapsmohawk-16 @nina6708 @katreintjie @sacvh @mothymunson @archenillo @thesinsoflust @sodavrr @yuki2129 @mikaronn

[mrvlbimbo]

u eat some of eddies gummy bears only to find out they were edibles, n now eddie has to deal with a very high y/n who wont stop gushing about him and being all giddy !!

uhhghhhhhhh this is sooooo adorable I CANNOT I'm sobbing I love this here you go!!!

Also I needed to post a lil bit of harmless fluff bfore I go and post something deranged later today

"Edddddddie. Good afternoon," she giggled, skipping into his bedroom with a bag he recognized all too well in her hand.

"Hey sweetheart. Where'd you get that?" he asked, his voice more than a little apprehensive. If what he was seeing was correct, his goody two shoes lab partner had wandered into his edibles supply and eaten them without asking.

It's not that he would have had any problem sharing them with her if she had asked. But from the looks of it she had eaten what was left of the bag and he assumed she had never even smoked before.

"The living room," she answered, still munching on the gummies in her mouth.

"Fuck. Spit that out right now," he demanded, wincing at his sharp tone and the way she flinched and frowned when he raised his voice.

"Sorry!" she yelped, spitting the contents of her mouth into the plastic bag she was holding.

"Sit down." He paced the room, grabbing an unopened water bottle off of his nightstand and placing it in her hand.

"Im not thirs-" she started but he interrupted her with another barked out order.

"Drink. please." He ran his hands through his already messy hair, anxious about what he could possibly do to remedy this situation.

"Eddie, what's wrong?" she picked up on his change in mood from his usual carefree demeanor and she assumed, partially correctly, that it was her fault.

"You just ate a shit ton of edibles," he admitted, sitting down next to her on the bed finally.

"At least you'll be here to help me right?" she asked hopefully, not so subtly sliding closer to him.

"Yeah. Yeah. I'm here," he assured her, taking one of her hands in his and giving it a comforting squeeze.

Flash forward less than thirty minutes and she's laying with her head in his lap and giggling about some stupid joke he had made, now also high from the joint he had just finished smoking.

"Eddie. Eddie!" she whisper-yelled as if she had some big secret to tell him.

She made grabby hands at his face so he bent down into her grasp, making her giggling happily. "Yep, suagarplum? Whatcha got for me, hm?"

"You're so pretty, Eddie," she whined, almost like she was mad about it. She sat up then, pushing him back onto the bed so she could crawl ontop of him.

"Yeah?" he huffed when she settled her weight on his chest, fingers curling into the fabric at the neck of his shirt.

"Like stupid pretty," she added, grabbing his face with both of her hands again.

"I think you're the pretty one." He tried his luck at flirting, figuring things couldn't go that far south since she was lying on his chest caressing his face. Maybe she was just ridiculously high, but maybe she had a thing for him and he was willing to see which one it was.

"Shhhh. I'm trying to focus," she scolded him, slapping her hand against his chest softly before going back to her very important work.

"On?" he questioned because from what he could tell she was just staring daggers into his eyes.

"Your face." her warm fingers brushed over his features, ghosting his brows and cheeks. She placed a thumb on his rosy lips, pushing on the plump skin.

taglist here:

@angelsarecallin @sebby-staan @niviiera @chaoticgurl @evqans @slut-for-matt-murdock @multihaven @tinyboxxtink @hold-our-destiny @weh-heh-heh @battiebabe216 @captain-satan @avril-reblog-cave @dragon-ash13 @stxvercgersslut  @fangirl199812 

(lmk if u want to be added)

[l0serloki]

Hiii! Can i request Iso with a childhood friend reader whom he's so attached with for years until he lost contact with the reader. Present time, he was tasked to eliminate a certain target which was an escaped experiment of Kingdom (like omen in his trailer but with reader) so when he finds the reader and fought with her (he didn't get to notice that it was her due to the years they have been apart and her appearance that had changed, i like to imagine that reader had similar life draining abilities like reyna) but time passed he managed to recognize that it was his childhood friend if it weren't for the eyes that he adored so much.

im having an Iso brainrot rn, have a great day <33

Childhood Memories

Iso x Reader

CW : fighting, allusions to being abused by kingdom

masterlist

Iso had gone many years since he last saw you. His family had moved around a lot when he was a child, leading to meeting you through those fleeting years. He still remembers the fun he had chasing you around, the whispers between classes, and the inside jokes. He missed you terribly but with his job he had never bothered to reach out. He knew how some people felt about radiants and it had been a long time since he had seen you. For all he knew you could even be married by now..

He couldn’t think about that now though. He had a mission to do. 

His body carried him as fast as it could, trailing behind his target. He hadn’t had his prey be this evasive in a long time. It was almost exhilarating. There was spice to this challenge.

“Stop.” You yelled out as you turned around. Your eyes widened as you took in your pursuers form. You couldn’t even bring yourself to drain the man standing in front of you. He was too much like him. Like Li.

“It's you and me!” He yelled out and you felt yourself be whisked away. The world was purple as you took in the shapes around you. You had realized quickly what this was. You weren’t stupid - you had heard about the bounty hunter before. You had to shake away your past and fight. Your life depended on it.

You warped and ran around the bullets as you shot back. After what seemed like ages you felt one smack into your ankle. Your body screamed for help but you had to keep pushing.. You had to escape.

“Stop, you're finished.” His voice demanded from above you. You looked up into his eyes as you had accepted your fate. It was a cruel twist of destiny to die at the hands of the only person you had ever considered your true friend. There was no way it wasn’t him.

“End me Li.” You whisper up and much to your surprise he crouched down. His gloved hand rubbed against your cheek as he stared into your eyes. You could do it. You could drain him at this distance. And yet you never did.

You moved your face into the soft touch as his thumb glided against your skin. 

“Y/N?” His voice was hoarse and tears threatened to spill from his purple hues. You didn’t trust yourself to speak as you nodded up at him. His arms hesitantly reached out to wrap around you, his purple gulag washing away.

“It’s really you?” He whispered out against your shoulder as his body shook in tandem with you. 

“It’s really me.” You affirmed and he pulled you back out to stare at you.

“I won’t kill you. I’ll help you out. But I want you to stay with me for a while. We have a lot of catching up to do.” His face was dead serious and you could feel your body slowly relax.

“We do. You wouldn’t believe what those people have done to me.” You choke out and Iso helps you to your feet. His eyebrows furrow as he hears your words.

“I doubt I’ll be anything but happy when I do hear about it. So let’s get home, Y/N.” His hand grips at yours as he gives one final soft look, tugging you along.

Let’s get home, Y/N.

You were finally free. And what funny world it is that your old friend was the one who broke the chains.

[unholytemple]

more in depth version of this post- set pre-stanford (sam’s 18, dean’s 22)

cw for religion kink/blasphemy, jealous dean, possessive dean, public frotting

sam’s a bright kid. far too bright for all this religion crap, in dean’s opinion. there’s no god, no big man in the sky that decides everyone’s destinies. dean doesn’t want some dusty old book telling sam how to live his life. that’s his job.

dean let it slide when sam was younger, chalked it up to a fascination with fairy tales, but sam’s too old for the easter bunny, just like he’s too old to believe in god. yet every knight, sam kneels at the foot of his bed with his hands clasped as he prays to go to heaven if he dies in his sleep. and every night, dean rolls his eyes at his stupid little brother.

dean dreads sundays the most, which is saying something, because it’s not like any other day is much better. but on sundays, sam begs dean to take him to church and of course dean goes with him. he wouldn’t let his brother go alone, but that means dean has to sit through boring sermons and over enthusiastic preachers telling the congregation that they’re all sinners.

they’re all hypocrites, every one of them. especially sam. sam and dean kill for a living; there’s no way god approves of that. sure, they kill monsters, but innocent people get hurt too. besides that, they gamble and steal to fund their lifestyle. sam has no problem hustling some poor drunk at pool, but he slaps dean’s hand away when he tries to take a twenty from the collection plate. if everyone’s a sinner, then sam and dean are the worst of them.

dean loves sam, so he tries not to get on his case too much about all the religion bullshit, but it’s hard sometimes. mostly he sticks to teasing him about it. it’s playful, but it still gets under sam’s skin. dean makes sure to use the lord’s name in vain as often as he can, just to see sam’s face twist when he does. dean rolls his cigarettes with bible paper, reading out the verse before dumping some loose tobacco from his altoids tin onto it. sam hates it, but he supposes it’s better than dean wiping his ass with the pages, which he often threatens to do.

dean thinks all of sam’s jesus freak shit is annoying, but what really bothers him is that sam is devoted to something else. something other than dean. dean is the only higher power that sam needs in his life. dean gives him guidance when sam has problems. dean tells him the difference between right and wrong.

in dean’s opinion, he’s much kinder than god. dean has no problem with drinking too much, fucking thy neighbor, cheating and lying and stealing. if dean was sam’s god, maybe sam wouldn’t be such a stick in the mud.

sam knows all of his little sins can be forgiven. that’s what jesus died for, after all. one day dean gets an idea: make sam into such a sinner that god won’t want to save him. he’ll be so lost and scared that he won’t have any other choice but to turn to dean to be his savior.

it wasn’t hard, really. dean knows sam better than sam knows himself. dean’s listened in on sam whispering confessions of his sins when he thought only god could hear him. lust, homosexuality. it was hard for dean to pretend to be asleep when he heard sam confess his impure thoughts for his older brother. he begged for forgiveness, to be cleansed, to become pure again. he swore he would never act on them. dean was going to make him act on them.

it didn’t take much. they’re already so close, so grossly codependent. it happened in church, on the lord’s day, in the back row of pews. dean’s hand had been inching up sam’s thigh for the past twenty minutes and sam’s pretending he doesn’t notice. it’s not until the heel of dean’s hand is pressed to hid crotch that sam says something.

“dean, what are you-”

“pay attention, sammy. follow along in your little book. this is how you get to heaven.”

“but you’re-”

“shut your goddamn mouth.”

sam does. dean continues to palm over him and he can feel his brother growing hard underneath his hand. sam sits stiff as a board the whole time, but never asks dean to stop. before long, sam’s hips are twitching, seeking more friction. it’s so wrong, it’s against everything god says. lust, homosexuality, incest, in a church of all places. sam’s cheeks burn red as his brother touches him and he tries not to think about the burn he’ll experience in hell.

“what’s god gonna think when you cream your jeans for your big brother?” dean asks, voice far too loud for their setting.

“it’s bad, dean. we can’t- we shouldn’t.”

“god sounds like a real drag. why would you wanna worship someone who won’t let you love your brother? you love me, don’t you, sammy?”

“‘course dean, it’s just…”

“it’s okay, you don’t have to worry about what god thinks anymore. just you and me like it’s always been, huh?”

sam squeezes his eyes shut and nods, panting “okay, okay” until he cuts himself off with a gasp. he just came in his pants in church on sunday morning. his brother made him cum in his pants in church on sunday morning. there aren’t enough blessings in the world to save sam now. he’s damned, and dean wouldn’t have it any other way.

“it’ll be you ‘n me forever. no god’s gonna take you from me.”

[twinklemylittlestar]

Hate.

There was always conflict beetween the two of you. "The sun illuminates the lives of men and, as the god of the sun, I'm also the representation of the beauty." Those were the words that he used with you, looking you from far ahead. And so you asked him why people write poems about you, the moon, and not from him. And he could stay silent, ignore you, but he answered you everytime. You thanked mentally the sweet destiny because it let you far away from each others.

Hate, but not in its pure form.

Everytime you turned around, he looked at you, wondering if, behind that cold attitude there was someone who wanted some love. His love. When he looked away from you, you did the same thing he did before at you: you looked at his back and then at his pink hair. You imagined how your hand would feel in his hair, how softy they could be, and at that thought a light blush covered your cheeks. You start to walk again in the sky and, while your sisters, the stars, asked you why you were blushing, you asked to the destiny the reason of the stupid conflicts with him and you prayed to it to let you get close to him at least once.

Love.

Finally your prayers were listened. You felt all his caresses and all his kisses, his narcissistic nature faded and transformed into a more tender one. He whispered sweet words inside your ears while he was cuddling you, and you hoped that this moment never had an end. But everyone knows it, not everything we want we can have. Soon the time you two had available together finished and you were forced to walk away from each other. When you got away from him and he couldn't see you, you started crying and not even the comfort of your sisters could stop your tears. Crying you asked to the cruel destiny the reason it made you fall in love with the god of the sun and why you couldn't be together. But no answer come. You curled up.

"Please tell me why..."

[imajinxnation]

That's Bull

Constantine (2005) x Reader

SUMMARY // Reader gets kidnapped by a demon and Constantine comes to save her. Reader can't help but mock the demon's stupidity and waits for her boyfriend to come get her.

Thought of this while I was at work!

Hope this is at least decent, cause it's been awhile lmao

GIF FOUND ON PINTEREST

TW // Kidnapping, Humor, Sarcasm, Insinuated Sexy Times, Cussing, FEMALE READER..

I groan as I wake, a harsh pounding in my head, as if someone was repeatedly taking the back of my head and smashing it against a metal wall. I slowly open my eyes, wincing, but see nothing except black, my breathing feeling a little restricted and stuffy. I feel the bag over my head against my face and begin to put together the pieces of what had happened. I sigh and shake my head, not even surprised.

I hear heavy footsteps echoing closer, a metal door opens and, soon enough, the footsteps are stopped right in front of me and the bag over my head is ripped off. I glare at my kidnapper; a heavyset woman with blue dyed hair, an obvious red tint in her pupils, telling everyone that she is a demon.

"You should lighten your footsteps, girl, I could hear them from a mile away," I scoff at her.

The demon looks at me, not showing too much emotion, but I could tell my words were already getting to her. Her jaw clenched and an offended look came and went in her eyes. I smirk a little; this demon will be easy to get through.

The demon takes a deep breath to calm herself before speaking, "I need information, on your little boyfriend, Constantine," she spat out his name like poison in her mouth.

I throw my head back and laugh.

"Honey, you realise that he gives out information pretty freely, right? He couldn't give two fucks about who knows what about him! I mean.. what do you even want to know anyways?"

The demon snarls at my nonchalant nature and speaks up again, angrier this time.

"Where does he keep the dagger of destiny? I know he fucking kept it!"

I snort, "No he didn't, you dumbass! Who the fuck told you that bullshit lie? No, wait, let me guess! Gabriel?"

The demon gives an awkward, frustrated look, "No.." She says, unconvincingly.

There was silence for a few moments before I broke out into laughter, finding the whole situation hilarious.

"You- you mean to tell me," I say between giggles, "that Gabriel told you personally that Constantine has the dagger of destiny, and then told you to kidnap me to tell you where he hides it? You are one gullible demon!"

"Watch it, you pathetic worm," the demon stomps like a child getting sent to the corner.

"Okay, alright. Come closer and I'll whisper it to you, I promise!" I give my best innocent face and silently beckon the demon to lean closer.

She does, easy to fool.

"You're going to be back in hell in a minute.." I whisper, the demon leans her head back from me, looking me in the eyes as I smirk.

She let's out a frustrated yell and walks past me, presumably to grab a weapon to torture me with. I see a shadow at the foot of the door in front of me before trying to see what the demon was doing behind me, catching a glimpse of her back. My head snaps back towards the door when I see a little bit of light enter the room. I see my boyfriend's head poke through before slipping his whole body in the room, making as little noise as possible as to not draw attention.

"You alright?" He mouths to me.

I nod and tilt my head towards the demon behind me, back still turned, muttering to herself about which tool she should use to torture me with.

"Give her hell.." I mouth with a smirk and a wink.

John smirks back and raises his demon gun, "Hey ugly!"

The demon swings around at the voice and goes to attack, but John shoots before she could move, and with one shot of that demon gun, she turns to dust.

"Thank you, Baby, you wanna untie me now?" I ask.

Constantine laughs and shakes his head in disbelief before setting the gun down to untie my body from the chair.

"When will these demon fucks learn not to mess with you?" He growls in my ear, untying my wrists from behind my back.

"You know demons, Babe, they may be evil little shits.. but they have a brain the size of a peanut," I laugh and rub my wrists from the rope burn.

I hop up from the uncomfortable metal chair and stretch, my shirt riding up a bit, showing a sliver of my stomach.

"What did they want this time anyways?" Constantine rolled his eyes and lit a cig.

"Gabriel told it some bull about you keeping the dagger of destiny," I scoffed at the mention of Gabriel.

"That bitch.. When will she stop trying to get revenge on me, it's not my fault God hates her now!" He let out an exasterbated sigh and takes a puff of his cig.

"Well.. I'm not saying I like getting kidnapped all the time.. But I always like what happens after you find me," I say suggestively.

Constantine stares at me for a second before giving a look of disbelief and then a smirk. He takes one last puff of his cig and then stomps it out on the concrete ground of the underground base I was kept in. He moves in closer to me, wrapping his arm around my middle and pulling me into his body roughly, face extremely close to mine.

"And this time will be no different," he smashes his lips to mine, desperately.

[seaadc]

leaving it all up, but going back in a different path. | xiao x gn!reader angst

a/n: part two you have all requestedd! part 1.

summary: xiao had left you for lumine, and now that he sees you happy with someone else that’s not him makes him feel.. guilty.

- “Your regrets mean nothing to me.”

Ever since Xiao had left you for Lumine, He felt empty. To the point that he even started comparing Lumine to you.

Lumine felt somewhat angry with him.. who wouldn’t? I mean— comparing your lover with your ex right infront of her face? That’s straight up brutal.

Xiao was too used to the feeling and being with you that he didn’t realize he’s hurting Lumine. Which they’re relationship became a bit.. toxic.

Paimon has took note of it, comforting her long time traveling companion whenever she had the urge to vent at Paimon.

Paimon asked Xiao about it, and that’s when he realized you were just.. different. He was used to you the most and not Lumine, she was probably just some fling because he got tired of you, but now, oh now, he’s missing you.

Would you accept him? Xiao thinks. Would you still take him after all that he had done to you and your precious heart? Oh, how he wishes to see that smile on your face when you see him hugging you tight.

But, he was wrong.

He came back to Liyue and both you guy’s shared home, only to find out you were nowhere to be seen. No signs of you anywhere, Your shirts and clothes were gone. Xiao panicked, searching everywhere in Liyue Harbor to find you, even the mountains.

Yet, he couldn’t find a single trace of you anywhere.

On your perspective, You were happy with where you are. At Inazuma! with the traveller doing their job, the high security level of Inazuma had vanished.

You had gone aboard the fleet named “The Crux”, and met a certain, fair, white haired young man.

Kaedehara Kazuha was his name, you used to call him Kazuha for short but you both became close and now you call him Kazu.

Kazuha had a long term crush on you, Beidou says it’s “Love at first sight” but Kazuha thinks it was something else.

“We’re soulmates.. we definitely are.” Kazuha whispers, smiling faintly to himself while Beidou deadpanned.

The pirate sighed, face palming herself as she put her hand on Kazuha’s shoulder. “It’s not that.. It’s “Love at first sight” idiot.” Beidou corrected, Kazuha smiled softly at her and looked away.

“I still think we’re soulmates, bound by destiny.”

“Is this a poetic culture to believe in you stupid little—“

Ever since that conversation, Kazuha had always been his charismatic behavior at you. You told yourself you didn’t want another try at love, so why did you let him court you?

“Pleaseletmecourtyou[Name]!” Kazuha blurted out, the tip of his ears becoming red while his cheeks were definitely warm even though [Name] hadn’t even touched it.

[Name] blushed and cleared their throat, smiling warmly as they nodded, Kazuha flinched and smiled brightly, hugging [Name] while they had hugged back.

Kazuha courted you for 5 months, you answered him the same day Xiao had left you.. Coincidence, ain’t it not?

Beidou wanted to visit Liyue and Kazuha wanted you to come along, Beidou practically forced you since she didn’t want another round of Kazuha’s tantrums because of how you didn’t come with them to a certain nation.

“I love you, [Name]. Thank you for accompanying me.” Kazuha said lovingly which made your cheeks flush a beet red. You nodded and kissed his forehead while he smiled warmly.

Beidou sighed and looked at both of you. “Us, Kazuha. They are accompanying us.” Beidou corrected, raising an eyebrow at Kazuha while he had smiled nervously while rubbing the nape of his neck.

You chuckled at their interaction, leaning onto Kazuha’s shoulders while he took notice and shifted his eyes on you, He smiled softly and patted your head, telling you poets that he wrote or simply heard.

You both had arrived, seeing Liyue Harbor again gives you a wave of deja vu. The wind breezes through your hair while it gracefully gets blown away makes Kazuha love you over and over again, once more.

You both had explore the harbor and laughed with one another, checking out stalls and having fun.

Kazuha opened his eyes as he gazed up at the stars, smiling at himself as he turned his head to the side to look at you.

He smiled softly and hugged you by the side, nuzzling his face in your shoulder while you could only laugh softly.

While that happened, you felt like you were being watched or something, you looked around but decided it was nothing so you shrugged the thought off.

Xiao was passing by Mt. Hulao, thinking you might be there but his thoughts were cut short when he saw two figures resting and laying down the dried color grass.

He was about to shoo them off, but as he got closer he realized it was.. them.

You, the light to his world.. cuddling with another person, but not him.

Who was he? Did you replace him already? Thoughts consumed his mind as he looked at the sleeping figured, clenching his fists while he gritted on his teeth.

Xiao calmed himself down, seeing this made him almost burst into rage but he simply can’t do that.

He instead just looked down, one single tear dropped from his eyes that fell to the grass below.

He asked himself why the fuck did he choose Traveler, over you?

You were everything to him, he had just noticed now that you were the only person that could make his heart beat so fast, faster than his speed.

The way every kiss he received from you was so casual and normal, yet— He felt different emotions with it.

He regretted it all, yet, his regrets meant nothing to you.

But you, oh you?

You meant everything to him.

taglist!! :3

@marsh-iop @noogie-11 @sparklz02

thx so much for waitingg!

[kurokens]

In The Night I Miss You | Satosugu

anime/manga: jujutsu kaisen

character: gojo satoru & geto suguru

words: 1.5k

pronouns: they/them

request: none

notes: sorry for the wait!!! but part 2 of In The Middle, my first satosugu piece, is finally here! a little bit more angsty this time and from satosugu's pov

not proof read

song rec: The Night I Miss You - Lee Changsub

genre: hurt comfort, fluff, slowburn, a little bit angsty, poly?

warnings: satosugu are in a loving relationship, misunderstanding, pinning, a lot of pinning on satosugu's end, reader is so oblivious, insecure and self conscious reader

Satoru and Suguru were quite the pair, always together since they can remember, as if fate created them for each other. Two pieces of a puzzle fitting perfectly together. They knew that, hell, everyone around them and their mother knew that. And yet, they both felt like something was missing, they spent years happily loving each others, and they never stopped, but they couldn't help but feel some kind of longing for something more.

At first it drove them crazy, how could they feel like that when they already had everything they ever dreamed of? They're both each others soulmate, and yet it's not enough, not anymore, not since they met you. You came and wrecked their perfect little world. You and your stupid smile, you and your stupid laugh, you and your stupid kindness, you and your stupid gentleness, just you and your stupid self. It was such a hard time for them to accept these feelings, especially with the growing guilt towards each others, clueless about the other similar torment. Until one day, the cat got out of the bag. "Say sugu..." The white-haired man started softly, a gentle hum coming back from his lover. "Are you satisfied? I mean, with us? Our couple?"

"Why? Yes, of course. Is something the matter? Have I done anything to make you think otherwise?" Suguru exhaled through a trembling breath.

"No, god no. It's just, god, how do I say this without sounding selfish. Have you ever felt like something was missing?" Satoru breathed out, closing his eyes in shame.

"You mean, like someone?" The black-haired man whispered shakily causin Gojo to spring up from his previous position, biwildered eyes meeting the ones he was ashamed to look at earlier.

"I didn't, I didn't say that, I mean not exactly, but, but maybe? Do you?" He murmured, a glint of hope in his orbs.

"Do you?" Suguru asked, just as hopeful.

"Yes, god, yes. I'm so sorry Sugu, I love you, I do, I promise. Like I've never loved anyone, but lately I've felt this way and I don't know why, and I didn't know how to tell you. Please tell me you do too. I can see it in your eyes, you do too right?" Satoru begged, his hands now clamped on the sheets below him.

"Yes, I do. God I was so scared to tell you, I'm so glad you feel it too. Oh, I'm so glad." Geto let out, his breathing calming down as well as his nerves. "You're thinking about someone in particular are you not?" He continued, reaching out to take Gojo's hands in his, easing down his stress.

"Yes..." He answered, tightening his grip around Geto's hands. "Do you?" Only receiving a nod along with the brightest smile he's ever seen his lover give him. "It's them, right?" Another nod came his way, just as he was pulled into a hug. "I'm so glad you feel the same. I was so scared. I thought I would lose you if I said anything, I don't want to lose you." He sobbed, finally letting out all the repressed feelings he's been having for the past couple of days.

Suguru stayed quiet, nuzzling his head into his lover's neck, grateful for the conversation, but also for the fact that they both felt the same. Of course the universe wouldn't betray them like that. They were soulmates, and it was destiny for both of them to fall for you, and maybe it was how it was always meant to be, not just them, but the three of you. And Suguru was more than content with this idea, he wished nothing more but to be able to share this overwhelming love with you as well. But he knew it would take time, it's not something they could act on just like that. They needed to proceed slowly, they didn't want to scare you, let alone lose you. Hell, losing you would shatter them, they could handle rejection just fine, but not having you in their life anymore just wasn't possible.

That's why Suguru had to physically stop Satoru from screwing this up. It was quite hard for the white-haired man child to refrain himself from acting on his desire to confess to you, and make you theirs. Since you lived with them, seeing you everyday and not being able to love you like he truly did, was the worst hardship he ever had to face. He wasn't used to not getting what he wanted, so having to wait for you to be theirs was proper torture. Don't get him wrong, it was also very hard for Suguru, but he knew they had to do this properly, and one of them had to be strong, because Satoru sure wasn't going to be. And because of that they would regularly have the same conversation in their room late at night, or early in the morning because it's when they were yearning for you the most. In the comfort of their bed.

"I dont know for how much longer I can do this Sugu..." Satoru sighed, burying his head in his lover's chest, muffling his next words. "They're so pretty, and so nice, and so caring, I love them so much. I would give anything to crush them between us right now."

"Me neither love, but there is nothing much we can do about it.They live with us." His black haired lover replied, laughing at his antics.

"I know, ugh I know, but it's getting so much harder everyday. Seeing them is becoming unbearable. I can't stand it anymore, we need to do something." He went on, on the verge of throwing a tantrum because of how much he yearned for you.

"Shh, I know, I feel the same. But we can't just drop this on them all of the sudden and expect it to go well." The oldest reasoned. "We will get there, we just need to take things slow Toru, we can't rush them into something like that."

And he was right, Satoru knew he was right, but it's been weeks and nothing changed. They tried being more affectionate towards you, complimenting you, being a little bit touchier and clingier without crossing any boundaries. Hell, they were looking at you so lovingly you could compare them to teenage boys going through their first ever crush. And yet, nothing changed, you were so clueless, it was driving them insane, but at the same time it was so endearing how oblivious you were to their adoration.

Everyone around you three noticed it, but you. It was quite amusing for your friends, but it was proper torture to them. And Satoru was growing reckless, he could'nt look at you in the eyes anymore, scared he will do something on impulse and regret it later because it could jeopardise your relationship, and your potential future together. Suguru wasn't much better to be fair, he could still look at you, but it was getting harder, and he couldn't bring himself to say anything to you that wasn't a heartfelt confession about their undying love for you, and his need to make you part of their life. So they decided to ton it down a bit, grow some distance between you, just the time for them to get themselves together, and to elaborate the perfect plan to confess to you properly without forcing you into anything. Yes, that was a good plan, or so they thought. Not once have they ever imagined this plan of action could backfire. Because why would it? It was the perfect plan!! Just until it wasn't.

After some time of putting distance between you, (literally a single day, Satoru couldn't more), the couple deciding to put their plan back into action but with a bit more hints being thrown into it. But, unfortunately for them, when they came back from work, the house was oddly silent, not a trace of you to be seen. "Sweetcheek?" Satoru called, walking towards your room, only to be met by complete silence. "Hey gorgeous, you in there?" He knocked, but once again silence was his only answer. So he opened the door, to see if maybe you were sleeping, but you weren't. Your bed was made, but something was off. Your room was clean but it felt like something was missing.

"Sugu, come here real quick." He urged, and Suguru footsteps were quickly heard. "Something isn't right."

They both stood at the entrance of your room, analysing everything, trying to find what was amiss, this odd feeling growing stronger and stronger. And then they spot it, a letter neatly placed on your desk, which read:

'The walls are thins here you know. Anyway don't worry I'll be out of your space soon. Sorry about the stuff I've left there, it's just for the time it takes for me to look for a new place and then I will give you back your much needed space. Thank you for letting me stay this long, and sorry for the trouble I've caused.'

The couple grew livid. Their worst fear became reality, and they didn't know how to fix it, but they knew they had to. And the sooner, the better.

[lives-in-midgard]

Invisible String

(Musician AU Part 2)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader

Summary: Steve and you finally solve the miscommunication that was between the two of you.

Word Count: 1730

A/N: Hey everyone! This is part 2 of Steve's story in my musician AU and I hope you like it! I made the moodboard myself and the divider is made by @firefly-graphics

If you would like to be on the series taglist comment here.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Masterlist | Musician AU

“Wait so that’s the Steve from high school?” Yelena asked. It was the day after your “date” with Steve and Yelena wanted to come over. She wanted to know everything and so you started to tell her everything from the beginning.

“Yep, that’s him.” You answered.

“But why did you never tell me that he is in “The Midnight Rockers”?”

“I actually don’t know.”

“Hmmm. But how was the date? Wait was it even a date now?” Yelena questioned.

“That’s the same question I asked myself later when I came home.” Yelena chuckled but you were serious.

“That’s a joke, right.”

“No. I really don’t know if it was a date or not. We didn’t talk about that.” You said and meant it. You talked about everything but not if it was a date or not. What you didn’t know was that at the same time Steve had a similar conversation with Bucky.

“Your date was y/n? how is she?” Bucky asked curious about how you have been all these years.

“She is doing good.”

“That’s good to hear. How was the date?” Bucky asked and Steve began to get nervous.

“Well, it was good but I’m not really sure if it was a date.”

“Oh, punk.” Bucky said.

“Did it feel like a date to you?” Bucky asked after a while.

“Well, I don’t know Buck. We had a really good time together; it was really nice seeing her again. And yeah, well I really like her.” Steve said and blushed a little.

“There you have your answer! It was a date.” Bucky guessed but Steve wasn’t really sure about that.

“It must have been destiny that you met her again. I mean we both knew that you still like her. She was the reason you broke up with Peggy.” Bucky told Steve when they were suddenly interrupted by Sam and Clint coming into the room.

“What’s with Peggy?” Sam asked.

“Nothing.” Steve answered and Sam looked at Bucky for answers.

“Steve was on a date with y/n.” Bucky said, and Steve rolled his eyes while Sam and Clint began to smile.

“Are they finally a couple?” Sam asked in excitement because he used to ship Steve and you back in high school.

“Well, I’m not really sure.” Steve sighed and Sam and Clint were confused.

“What?” Sam asked and then Steve told them about the date. While Sam and Bucky had the idea that Steve should ask you on another date and if you say yes then the first date was also a date. Clint said that he should just ask you if it was a date instead of that stupid idea. But of course, Steve didn’t listen to Clint and decided to send you a message after the band rehearsal.

Yelena was about to leave when you got the message from Steve.

“Hey, do you have plans for this Friday afternoon?”

“Is this a date?” You said and showed Yelena the message. Yelena looked at the message, a little too long in your opinion.

“Lena?” You said and she looked at you.

“Well, you know I don’t really get such messages, so I’m not really sure.” You groaned and Yelena chuckled.

“Just say that you don’t have anything planned and find out there.” Yelena suggested and you decided to do that. Yelena then had to leave because she had to go to work at the bar soon.

“I’m free on Friday afternoon” You texted back and got nervous about what he would say.

A few minutes later when you were about to start cooking you got a message from Steve.

“What you like to spend time with me?” Well, this doesn’t sound like a date, right? Just a meet up between two friends, right?

By Steve:

“I don’t think that’s how you ask someone on a date” Sam whispered to Clint.

“Well, I don’t think either.”

“Sure, can’t wait.” You texted back and were excited to see him again.

“Me too, I’ll pick you up at four o’clock.”

The week went by quickly and you didn’t even had time to get nervous because you’ll see Steve soon. Between work you didn’t have time to see Yelena and ask her on her opinion what to wear. So, you decided to just wear something cute and comfy. When it was nearly the time Steve would arrive, you took your bag and went downstairs to wait outside of your apartment building. A few minutes later Steve parked his car at an empty parking lot. He stepped out of his car and walked over to you. Steve was again wearing a hat and glasses to cover that it was him.

“Hi” You greeted each other but weren’t sure if you should hug him.

“Again, wearing a hat and glasses?” You teased him.

“I’m sorry, I don’t want to get recognized from fans or paparazzies.”

“It’s okay, it suites you.” You said with a chuckle.

“But I promise, we are driving somewhere where I won’t need it.”

“Oh, now I’m curious.” Steve chuckled and led you to his car. He opened the door for you, and you sat down. Steve started to drive out of the city and after a while you could guess where he was driving. He drove into a small town, past your old high school. A smile crossed your lips, and Steve saw it and smiled back at you. After passing the high school he drove into the direction where you two had your summer job.

The yoghurt shop.

You two worked there because you wanted to get some money to buy concert tickets for one of your favorite artists. At first you worked there alone but after a while Steve joined you to help you gain the money. Together you had the money sooner and decided to go there together. After the concert you decided to continue to work there. When Steve made the band with the boys, they also had a few small gigs there. You of course where always there to support them. You two had a lot of fun there and enjoyed your breaks at the small sea behind the shop. This was also the place where you wanted to tell him about your feelings but then Steve suddenly told you about his feelings for Peggy.

You came back to reality when you realized that Steve opened the door for you. You didn’t notice that he put his cap and the glasses away because now you could finally see his beautiful face better.

“Are we getting some yoghurt?”

“Of course, we are.” When you went in you were greeted by the owner of the shop. The old lady immediately recognized the two of you. She was so happy to see the two of you that she gave you a hug and decided to give you the yogurt for free. You ordered your yogurt and then went outside. You followed Steve when he walked behind the shop and sat down under the tree near the sea. You both started to eat your yogurt and after a while when you were finished Steve started to chuckle. You looked over to him and joined him.

“Why are we laughing?” You asked after a while.

“Remember the mess we made in the shop.”

“Of course, I do. There was yogurt everywhere. We almost got kicked out because of you.”

“Hey, you were the one who started the yogurt fight.” Steve joked.

“Okay, maybe that’s right but you wouldn’t stop to throw the yoghurt.” Steve began to laugh again.

“But it was fun.” Steve said.

“Yeah, it really was.” You could see it right in front of you Steve covered in yogurt with the brightest smile on his face. You couldn’t really remember why you started this fight, but it definitely was one of your funniest moments together. But also, one of the moments that made you fall in love with Steve even more.

You talked about the past and laughed a lot. Time went by and you watched the sun go down while Steve put his arm around you. After a while you were feeling cold, so Steve put his jacked around your shoulder. When Steve brought you back home you gave him a quick hug. After the meet up with Steve you still couldn’t tell if it was a date. You were even more confused now. Did it feel like a date? Yes. Did you start getting feelings for Steve again? Yes. Was it a date for Steve? You weren’t really sure about that. But Steve was sure, it definitely was one.

You were about to walk back to your apartment when you noticed that you still have his jacked on. You turned around and saw that Steve just opened the door to go in.

“Wait I still have your jacked.” You shouted and Steve turned around.

“Keep it on. You can give it back on our next date.” Steve smiled and now you were confused. Steve closed the door and made a few steps, so that he was standing right in front of you.

“What?” Steve nervously asked when he noticed your look.

“I wasn’t sure if this was a date.” You began to blush out of embarrassment and Steve scratched his neck.

“Oh, I thought it was one but if you don’t want it to be one, we can just say that we were out as friends.” Steve said with a sad look in his eyes.

“No, I wanted it to be a date I just wasn’t sure if it was one for you.” You let out a laugh and Steve joined you.

“Why are we like this.”

“I don’t know.” You hide your face behind your hand.

“Okay, let’s begin again.” Steve said and you put your hands away and looked at him.

“Y/n would you like to go on a date with me?” Steve smiled and you chuckled.

“Yes, I would really like to.”

When you went into your apartment you had a big smile on your face. You were glad that you finally knew that it was a date and that you’ll have a next one with Steve. You can’t wait to see him again but there was one part of you thinking if it really was a good idea to be more than friends.

Taglist:

@jamneuromain | @magnificentsaladllama

[farity]

Sorrow, part 14

"What the hell were you thinking?"

Elyse flinched at Otto's shout from the doorway, and Aemond immediately moved to her side.

"Jacaerys Velaryon in the Small Council? Tell me it is a jest," Otto continued, "please tell me it is you merely toying with that bastard boy."

Behind him, Alicent stood with her hands clasped, her face not giving away which side she was on.

"I am the Regent," Aemond replied, one hand on Elyse's shoulder, "and I have decided-"

"You decide nothing!"

Aemond took a step forward, facing his grandsire, and smirked. "I could decide to make him my new Hand."

Alicent gasped, and the fury in Otto's eyes turned into confusion.

"I am not Aegon, grandfather. I am not going to ignore my duties to drink and whore and let you run the realm. I mean to rule until my nephew is of age, and your place here is to advise and support."

Otto stared at him for a few seconds, then bowed, turned, and left.

"Aemond," Alicent whispered, rushing in past her father, "please do not turn this into a rift. I do not know what you are intending-"

"That is precisely the point, mother, you do not. Perhaps you might wish to spend more time with your grandchildren."

He did not say the rest, but Elyse could swear that she heard the threat in his words. While you can.

Alicent, too, turned and left, and Elyse waited until her footsteps faded away before turning to Aemond. "I would not make enemies out of them."

He kissed her forehead. "I do not wish to, but I wear the crown now, and I mean to make different choices.' I see only death if we continue in this path, and I have a chance to avoid such a destiny."

"Brother?"

They both turned at the small, tremulous sound of Helaena's voice.

"Is it true?"

Aemond extended his hand to his sister. "Is what true, sweet sister?"

Helaena looked from Aemond to Elyse and back again. "Jace might not die? He might," she swallowed, "be in the council?"

"It is up to him to make that choice."

"He was always very kind to me, Aemond," she added. "It is not his fault, you see, who his parents are. It is none of our faults."

"But it has been his choice to continue to perpetuate the lie."

Helaena's eyes began to fill with tears and Aemond closed his eye for a moment. "Hel, if he chooses to cooperate, I will not see him harmed. Unless he betrays me."

Sniffling, Helaena nodded. "I understand. I would not want that." She stood there, simply staring at Aemond until Elyse stood and hugged her, wiping away a tear that had escaped.

"Tell me about Jace," she said softly, leading the queen out of Aemond's study.

* * * * *

When Elyse returned to her rooms after speaking with Helaena, she found Alicent waiting for her.

"You must make him see."

Elyse stopped the sigh bubbling up in her chest. "Make who see what, Your Grace?" she began walking towards her little desk but Alicent grabbed her arm.

"Aemond. He should not defy my father so boldly, not after everything he has done for our family, all the years serving my lord husband, and then Aegon-"

"But neither of them sit the throne now," Elyse said, pulling her arm away.

"And Aemond listens to you."

Elyse smiled, "I would not presume to give him advice on ruling, I know so little of politics and governing."

"But you can sway him to continue the path that has been charted instead of this madness of putting Jacaerys on the council. What is he thinking?"

When Elyse said nothing, Alicent grabbed her again. "He is besotted with you, stupid girl, even though you cannot give him children, which is a woman's greatest joy and her only consolation in this life, but he is-"

"Stop it!" Elyse tried to push away but Alicent would not let go. "You need to leave, Your Grace, I will not be-"

"What is this?"

Both women turned at the sound of Aemond's voice. He stood in the doorway, slashes of color on his cheeks. "I asked a question."

"Aemond," Alicent said, rushing to him, "your wife sees things like I do, she would have you follow your grandfather's wise counsel and-"

"I said no such thing!" Elyse exclaimed, rubbing her arms where Alicent had held her.

"I thought lying was a sin, mother," Aemond said softly. "You better than most should know that."

Alicent clutched at his jacket. "Aemond, you cannot bring that bastard into our midst, he will betray you, maybe even attack your wife, have you thought of that?"

"Mother, I agree with my wife in that you should leave."

"Finally, Aemond, you can have your vengeance," Alicent continued, her voice frantic. "All these years, the sins of Rhaenyra and her family gone unpunished, and now you can end them."

"Enough!"

Elyse flinched, but Aemond merely grabbed his mother's hands, pulling them off him.

"I should see you confined to your rooms mother, at my pleasure, until such a time you have regained your composure. Guard!"

Alicent stared up at him, slack-jawed, until the guard appeared at her side, and then turned to leave silently.

* * * * *

"It will never end," Aemond said, rubbing his face. "Always plotting and scheming. I might have enjoyed it once, but now . . . "

Elyse sat on the thick rug by the fireplace. "Come here."

He laid down, placing his head on her lap. "I am sorry I frightened you. I did not mean to-"

"Do not worry about such things. It is the vestiges of my old life that still remain, but I know you mean me no harm," she said gently, caressing his hair. "May I remove your eye patch?"

Aemond nodded, letting her remove the leather strap as well as the tie that held his hair back. She began lightly running her fingers through the long locks and he felt his shoulders begin to unknot. "You are a balm, wife. A balm to soothe my jagged soul."

She laughed softly. "I do not see a jagged soul, Aemond. I see a man who finally has a chance to make a better world."

"Do you think it is possible? A better world, I mean."

She caressed his cheek. "It is always possible. Once I dared not dream of it, but you saved me and now I am happy here."

He said nothing, but took her hand and brought it to his lips.

"I want you to know something, and it doesn't have to mean anything. I mean, it does, but it should not be a burden on you, and it should not make you feel-"

"What is it, Elyse?"

She bit down on her lip for a moment, and then smiled at him. "I love you, you see."

He could only stare up at her, the words caught in his throat, and then she leaned down to kiss him.

"Elyse," he whispered.

"Shh," she placed a finger over his lips. "I just wanted you to know, Aemond, that you have my heart."

Aemond reached up to tuck her hair behind her ear. "It is the greatest treasure I have ever received." He rose up on his elbow, "I do not know what love is, wife, so I cannot profess that I love you, but you do have whatever black, rotten thing remains of my heart. And I know it is safe in your keeping."

He pulled her down to kiss her and felt her tears fall onto his cheek, but then she was laughing, and he smiled, wondering if amidst all the awful things he'd done there was a sliver of a chance the Seven might pity him and give him joy.

* * * * *

[morebird]

If at the beginning of this year someone would have told me that I'd be happily drawing faces and humans I would have died laughing but here I am now. My Astarion folder is almost as full as the folder that has all the 2023 art.

I have to thank bg3 for pulling me out of the deep deep slump that I was in. I didn't said anything because what's the point but I was debating on stopping drawing altogether because I was deeply depressed (still am but that's a different story) and I just had no inspiration or motivation to draw anything and I was forcing myself out of necessity. But once I played and replayed bg3 I was possessed by the need to draw Astarion. So yeah I guess thank you Larian and thank you stupid sexy pale elf.

And my old Destiny followers, don't think I have forgotten you, it's just that currently there is absolutely nothing that pulls me towards Destiny. I will not stop drawing for Destiny and once something catches my eye (or I hear a faint whisper in my head that compels me to draw Saint or Felwinter) I will be back :)

[soulkeeper801]

Dare pt 3 - Hirai Momo

Requested:   Momo gets dared by the other members to find the easiest person she thinks will sleep with her(ends up being reader). They eventually end up dating and falling in love. But reader eventually finds out about the dare and confronts Momo. Angsty.  

Momo x f!reader

Words 1.2k

pt 1 pt 2

Part 3

“Crazy, right?” Momo said as a gleeful smile adorned her face and she chugged down a glass of beer that had been sitting in front of her.

The other girls were in awe of what they just heard.

“So tomorrow we’re flying out to Jeju to spend the weekend together and I’m finally going to confess”.

A couple of weeks ago, Momo had been dared to sleep with someone as a game between the girls. No one thought she was going to be able to successfully carry out the deal, they knew she wasn’t built like that. 

However, Momo met you. Not only did she cross her path with the one who would make the others shut their mouths, but you were the girl that stole her heart after the first time her lips touched yours.

Momo believed in destiny. She knew everything happened for a reason and the reason she was dared to do stupid things was to find you, to gather the courage to ask you out, take you home and realize everything she was waiting for was you.

“You were supposed to sleep with someone, not make plans to spend the rest of your life with her!” Nayeon teased as she recognized the look on her roommate’s face.

“It just happened,” Momo replied, her mind wandering again to the thought of you. “I guess I have to thank you for that”.

Nayeon laughed out loud. “Anything for my Momoring!”

“What do you plan to do?” Jihyo asked, ready to know every detail of whatever the older girl had in mind.

“I don’t wanna do anything over the top. I booked a dinner at a really nice restaurant and I’m going to pour my heart out under the moonlight”.

Eight girls squealed at such remarks.

“Who knew Momo unnie was this cheesy!”

*

Everything seemed like a dream.

You were standing in front of the most beautiful beach house you’d ever seen. 

As you stepped over the threshold of the house, your senses were immediately enveloped in a symphony of sensations. Your eyes widened in awe as they took in the breathtaking view that stretched before you. 

The expansive windows framed an unobstructed panorama of the azure sea, its waves dancing in a joyful rhythm against the shore. A pristine stretch of sandy beach lay just a few steps away, inviting you to indulge in the pleasures of the sea.

And the most beautiful girl in the world was holding your hand, her gaze fixed on you watching you in awe, just like you were.

“You…” you muttered, “you didn’t have to…”

Momo smiled pleased. “Yes, I did. I wanted us to have a very special weekend,” she replied, her hands taking yours and placing a soft kiss against your knuckles. “I think…” she continued, a bit timidly this time, “we’ve spent so much time together, yet we have a lot to learn about each other…”

The remark made you blush a little as you left your bag on the living room floor.

“Let’s make time for everything this weekend, alright?” she proposed, her voice regaining the confidence you loved so much. 

She pulled you into her as your hands were still tangled together to taste your lips one more time. You wrapped your arms around her neck, allowing her to roam her hands on your sides, to your breast to finally cup your face.

“You’re so beautiful,” you whispered as you looked intently into her eyes. 

Stars swam in them. She looked at you with adoration as her lips caught yours one more time.

Your hands quickly found their way under Momo’s shirt. As your hand made contact with her skin, a choked gasp flew from her mouth that you took as a sign to sneak your tongue in, deepening the kiss the way you knew she loved.

“Don’t you wanna see the bedroom?” Momo asked out of breath, already excited about what was ahead for the both of you.

An eager nod was enough for her to take you there.

You were ready to have the weekend of your life.

*

“This way, please,” a man dressed in a tuxedo signaled with his arm for you to follow him. 

Once again, you couldn’t believe your eyes.

As you stepped through the ornate entrance of the exclusive restaurant, your breath caught in your throat. 

The opulence of the surroundings was utterly mesmerizing.

As you walked across the polished wooden floor, your heart raced in anticipation of the view that awaited you. And then, as you approached the table, the sight that unfolded before you left you utterly speechless.

The table was set impeccably, adorned with fine china, delicate glassware, and flickering candles that added a warm and intimate ambiance. The sound of soft music played in the background, a gentle melody that serenaded your senses and complemented the soothing symphony of the sea.

You opened your mouth to praise Momo for doing all of this.

“Shh,” she simply said, a smirk still dancing on her lips. “We deserve all of this”.

You nodded shyly, taking the seat next to her. 

“I…” she started talking, her gaze fixed on you but her hands portraying nervousness. “I’ve been thinking a lot about us, about what we have”.

She gulped, looking at your face, trying to catch any sign of what she was saying didn’t make you uncomfortable at all.

“It’s only been a few weeks that we know each other, yet when I’m with you I feel like I’ve known you my whole life,” she continued, her hand found yours intertwining your fingers. “I’m not the best at expressing myself but I’m going to do my best, alright?”

You nodded sweetly as she cleared her throat.

“Being here with you, under this moonlit sky and beside this mesmerizing sea, has made me realize something profound. It's not just the beauty of the scenery that has taken my breath away tonight. It's the way you make everything around you seem even more enchanting. Your presence, your laughter, the way your eyes light up when you talk about things you're passionate about – it all brings a kind of magic to every moment we share."

You looked at her, your eyes shimmering with a mixture of surprise and emotion, and she continued, her voice steady with sincerity.

"I've treasured every moment we've spent together, each memory we've created. And in those moments, I've come to understand that what I feel for you is more than just a moment. It's a connection that goes beyond words, a bond that's been growing stronger with each shared smile, every heartfelt conversation, and every stolen glance."

Her glassy eyes found yours once again, the overwhelming feeling of pouring her heart out was a lot for her to take. 

“I don’t know how you did it, but you made me fall for you, hard. Now I can’t imagine my days going by without seeing you or listening to your voice”.

A huge smile plastered on your face, almost ready for what was coming.

“Y/N,” she continued, a slight shade of pink adorning her cheeks, “I wanna be your girlfriend, officially. I want us to hold hands in the building and let everyone see we’re each others’. I don’t want to keep hiding and meeting like we’re sneaking off”.

“I’d love to be your girlfriend,” you finally muttered. Your own eyes filled with tears realizing the most beautiful girl you’ve ever met was on the same page as you.

No more words were needed between you two. You had found each other forever.

--

Part 4 (last part)

[cyripticchronicler]

Masterlist <3

James Potter

Quidditch Confessions

In celebration of Gryffindor winning the quidditch match, James takes his girlfriend on a ride around the school.

Ink and Destiny 2 3 4

In a world full of soulmates, the last thing you'd expect is James Potter to be yours. (Soulmate au)

Teasing Words and Hidden Feelings

You're used to Sirius and Remus's teasing, you just wish the things they always teased James about were true.

Sirius Black

Moonlit Redemption

You and Sirius are not supposed to like each other, it's against your instincts, so why does your heart flutter whenever he's around?

Prank Wars

Your relationship with Sirius only exists because of the stupid pranks you pull on each other. What happens if you want more?

Love Potions and Unspoken Desires

A mishap with amortentia has you and Sirius head over heels for each other. Except, your feelings are genuine. But what if his were too?

Remus Lupin

Whispers of the Page

Having recently moved, you were in dire need of new books. But the last thing you expected was to catch the owner of the bookshop's attention

Spencer Reid

Healing in Soothing Waters

In the aftermath of a particularly grueling case, Spencer Reid grapples with the haunting memories. Seeking solace in the comfort of his partner, he finds support and understanding.

OC x OC

Hidden Hearts and Quiet Confessions

[fluentmoviequoter]

Heart Set on Amulets

Summary: Dalton meets shy, introverted reader and they become friends. Eventually, he finds out that she's a witch and tells her about his astral projecting. She creates an amulet to help him sleep, and Dalton discovers how nice dreams can be.

Requested Here!

Update (October 2023): Heart Set on Amulets Universe Masterlist

Warnings: canon-typical discussion of the Further, several vague references to Insidious: The Last Key (2018), in-depth discussions of magic and witchcraft (I did my homework for this one lol), Google Translate Latin, fluff. 3.4k+ words.

A/N: All of the witchcraft-related content is from my Supernatural knowledge and the Supernatural wiki page. This was a great request and super fun to write! Let me know what you think and I hope you like it! :)

 

If you could get away with wearing a glamour amulet to look like someone else for your whole life, you would. Or better yet, an invisibility shield. For as long as you can remember, you’ve preferred to fade into the background and avoid everyone. Most people thought you were simply shy, but as you got older, you knew something else was happening inside you.

On your thirteenth birthday, you discovered you were a witch. Vowing never to tell anyone, you embraced what you believe to be your destiny. Wearing black, “witchy” clothes, keeping to yourself, and practicing the mystic arts in the dark allowed you to grow in ways you never imagined. The people closest to you thought you were in a goth or witch phase. When you walked across the stage at your high school graduation, casting spells under your breath, they accepted that it is who you are. Now it’s your turn.

Arriving at college, you continue to keep to yourself. Learning that you are a witch did nothing for your social skills, still preferring to be quiet and as invisible as possible. Managing to secure an on-campus apartment, you have space to practice and develop your powers in your free time and have a quiet place to think and get away from the busy, people-filled life you live beyond your door.

 “Cloaking flame,” you read, flipping through the spell book you have been building on for years. You run your finger along the page, reading the ingredients and effects of the spell. “Black candle, blood, a lit match… conceals caster and causes spontaneous combustion.”

Looking toward your pantry, you consider trying the spell until you hear people talking in the hall outside. You shake your head, thinking that spontaneous combustion probably isn’t the best idea in an apartment. Turning the page, you look at the first of many pages of research you’ve conducted on dreams over the years. Flicking your wrist, you conjure a cup of your favorite drink and take a sip before tapping the sigil and sending your spell book into a pocket dimension for safekeeping. The hallway is silent as you carry your drink to your bedroom, distantly wondering what it feels like to have company in your apartment.

“Dolphin, that’s stupid!” someone yells ahead of you on the sidewalk.

 “Why don’t you yell a little louder, Chris?” the boy you assume is ‘Dolphin’ responds.

“Hey!” The girl turns toward you and beckons someone closer. As you look over your shoulder, she adds, “Yeah, you. Please help me!”

Shaking your head and sending a small smile, you whisper, “Praesidium ab extraneis custodi me a periculo” (Protection from strangers keep me from danger).

You continue walking, fiddling with the amulet around your neck. Years ago, when you became a witch, you visited a psychic who gifted you the charm necklace, encouraging you to put whatever spell or enchantment you desired upon it. The amulet has remained unenchanted since then, waiting for the right moment. Your fingers grip the amulet tighter when someone falls into step beside you.

“Hey, I just wanted to apologize for Chris – my friend that harassed you on the sidewalk earlier… I’m Dalton.” He extends his hand for you to shake, then drops it quickly. “You don’t have to talk to me, I’m usually super introverted but Chris tends to rub people the wrong way at first, so I thought I should apologize. And now I’m rambling.”

“It’s fine,” you whisper, stopping at a split in the sidewalk. “I appreciate the apology, and not trying making me talk.”

“Anytime.” Dalton smiles, and you can’t stop the small smile you send him in return. “I’ll see you around.”

 “Maybe.”

 “Definitely,” Dalton concludes with a wink.

As you watch Dalton walk away, the idea of pathokinesis pops into your head. You shake your head to rid the thought. The last thing someone like you needs is a love spell. It’s not like you could talk to him even if you did manipulate him into thinking he loves you. And, most importantly, you would never mess with someone’s emotions, not with how much trouble you have with your own.

You try to push Dalton out of your mind in class, your mind eventually drifting to a dimensional manipulation spell you were working on the night before. The person beside you asks for a pencil, and you briefly wish you had learned the cloaking flame spell as you silently pass a pencil, letting your eyes watch the pencil to avoid any awkward eye contact.

The last thing you expect is to see Dalton waiting by the door when you exit class, yet here he is.

 “So, I was thinking,” he begins.

 “Scary thought,” you mumble.

Dalton laughs before continuing as he walks beside you, but not close enough to make you uncomfortable. “You’re super easy to talk to, like, I’ve never met someone that I could start a conversation with, but here you are. Granted, you don’t really say anything, so it’s more that I have a conversation with the idea of you? I don’t know. Does that make sense?”

 “Yeah.” You shrug as you look at his shoes. “I don’t talk to anyone though, really, so don’t feel too bad.”

 “You’re talking to me now. After a very long lecture from Chris, which means she yelled at me, I realized that maybe we could try to be friends. If it doesn’t work, we walk away, no harm done. What do you think?”

“Why? I’m the definition of introverted and I’m super weird.”

“Chris likes to say that everyone’s weird.”

Remaining silent, Dalton stops talking and looks straight ahead, allowing you to think for several minutes.

“Hey, where are we going?”

“I’m going to my apartment.”

“You got an apartment? Lucky.”

“Look.” You hold an arm up to stop Dalton, looking in his general direction but failing to make eye contact. “We can try. This is my building, apartment 7. If you need a quiet place to think or work, or just away from your eccentric friend, come over. I’ll try to talk, but I can’t guarantee anything. You’re nice, Dalton, and you deserve friends, but I’m too shy to ever talk this much again.” You rush past him and wait until you are in your apartment before taking a deep breath, sagging against the door. “I just talked to him,” you realize aloud.

After your last class on Friday, just two days after talking to Dalton, you hear a knock on your door. Clutching a black obsidian stone, you raise it behind the door as you open it. Your hand falls to your side as you make unintentional eye contact with Dalton.

“You scared me,” you accuse.

“You said I could come over?”

You nod and open the door, allowing him to come inside. As you close the door, you look around and thank the morning version of you for straightening up before you left.

“Nice place. Do you want me to leave?”

“No, Dalton, you’re good. I’m just jumpy, sorry.”

Dalton loosens his hold on his backpack strap, setting his bag in the corner before looking around. He steps closer to your bookshelf, looking at the books and shelf of black candles. Most of your witch-related belongings are in the cabinets in the kitchen, hidden from sight.

“What’s the stone for?” Dalton points to the obsidian in your hand.

“Oh, it was a gift,” you lie. “Just picked it up when you knocked. No one ever really visits.” The last part was the truth, at least.

“Well, they’re missing out.” Dalton smiles before turning back to the bookshelf.

“You can sit wherever. I assume you came for a reason?”

“I can’t just come to say hi?”

“You can. I don’t know why you would,” you admit with furrowed brows.

Dalton helps himself to your couch, spreading his arms across the back as he smiles at you. You finally realize how long you’ve maintained eye contact and look down, tapping your feet together.

“You’re better company than you think. Let’s break open each other’s shells.”

Dalton is serious, and for the first time in your life, you think that maybe having a friend wouldn’t be so bad. As you and Dalton take turns asking questions about each other, you nearly forget about the pocket dimension holding your spell book and the pantry. For a few minutes, you feel normal. But you have never been normal, and one friend won’t change that.

Hours after the sun has gone down, Dalton gathers his things and heads for your door. You whisper a warding spell as you open the door for him, protecting him from harm as he enters the world. After he leaves and the door is closed, your hand lifts to your amulet while your mind drifts to the cloaking flame and where you could possibly test it.

Saturday morning, you get a text from Dalton – whose name and number he must have put into your phone sometime last night. Warily, you accept his invitation to breakfast. When he knocks on the door, you see Chris at his side, and you realize where your apprehension came from. You’re learning to talk to Dalton, but when you see Chris, you shut down.

 “I’m going to meet you two there,” Chris says suddenly, looking between you and Dalton. She grabs Dalton by the shirt and whispers in his ear, unheard by you, “Don’t mess this up, Dolphin.”

Dalton offers his hand, and you take it slowly, interlacing your fingers with his as you walk. He looks tired, and while you’re not used to caring for the people around you, he makes it seem very easy.

“We don’t have to go to breakfast, Dalton,” you offer.

“I want to.”

“Did you get any sleep last night?”

“Why do you ask?” Dalton smiles and pulls your hand closer. “Because you kept me out so late last night?”

“No, I just...” you take a breath to stop stuttering and decide to shoot straight. “You look tired.”

“I am, but I’ll get over it. Now, what’s your favorite breakfast food?”

Dalton fills the rest of the walk with conversation, offering easy questions you can answer quickly. He never makes you feel forced to talk; more like he is inviting you to and hanging onto your every word. At the restaurant, Dalton is a buffer between you and Chris. However, you quickly realize that while Chris can be loud and comes across as abrasive, she is actually sweet, and you can see yourself becoming friends with her. Slowly, maybe, but eventually.

Over the next few weeks, you learn the appeal of having friends. Dalton is at your apartment more than his own dorm. Chris has come over several times, and you can talk to her without Dalton around now. While they haven’t said anything, you wonder if they’re curious about the ever-shifting candles or the arrangement of wax on your table. You want to tell them who you really are, but your fear that they’ll leave feels crippling. Losing the only friends you’ve ever had is frightening enough that you’d be willing to stop practicing witchcraft. If that were possible, that is.

Just before fall break, when the leaves are falling, every student is carrying a hot drink, and tickets to go home for Thanksgiving are being purchased, your relationship with Dalton changes forever. It’s nearly midnight when knocking on your door almost breaks your concentration during a spell. Ignoring it, you focus on the scrying spell arranged on your table. With your arms out over the arrangement and your eyes focused on the prism in the center, you repeat the name of the man you are looking for, alternating between the English and Latin versions of his name. The knocking comes again, and you can’t risk losing the progress you’ve made.

“Come in and shut up!” You yell quickly, keeping your eyes on the prism and the name in your mind.

You hear the door open, then very slowly close. As your chanting picks up speed, the prism lights up, drawing you in before everything goes dark. Dropping your arms to the chair in front of you, you lean your weight on it as you catch your breath.

From across the room, Dalton whispers your name. You look up at him, pulling the black shawl from your head to meet his eyes.

“What is going on?” he asks, wide-eyed.

You take a deep breath before standing to your full height. The lights flicker on, the energy you channeled into the prism returning to the wires. Dalton looks between you and the table.

“I can explain.”

Dalton remains silent, pressing his lips together and gesturing for you to continue.

 “Short answer is I’m a witch. The longer answer is that my entire life I’ve felt like I didn’t belong; I could never make friends or talk to people, and I just- something was missing. When I turned thirteen, I found out I was a witch.”

“How?” Dalton interrupts.

“An energy blast,” you admit, pulling on your fingers and hoping Dalton won’t leave. “Shot it straight through my bedroom wall. Covered it up with a story that something fell and hit the wall at a weird angle and that’s why it went all the way through.”

“People believed that?”

“I guess.” You shrug and try to look away from Dalton. “Never said anything else about it.”

“Okay. So, you’ve been a witch since you were thirteen, basically?”

“Yeah.”

Dalton nods, saying something to himself before asking, “What did I just walk in on?”

“A scrying spell. It’s a locator spell, used to find people.”

“And you told me to shut up because?”

“Distraction is one of the biggest weaknesses for witches. Losing one bit of concentration could be the difference between life and death, or it could alter a spell and cause something unexpected to happen. Sorry, though.”

“No, it’s fine.” Dalton walks to the table and stands beside you. “Which part is the most important?’

“All of it, but the prism is vital. It’s what shows me the location of the person I’m looking for.”

“And where are they?”

“Five Keys, New Mexico.”

You look over at Dalton as he examines each piece of your spell, waving in front of the mirrors and looking at the reflections of the crystals. He looks tired, even more so than usual.

“What’s going on, Dalton? You look like you haven’t slept at all.”

“I haven’t,” he admits with a humorless laugh. He looks over to you and clenches his jaw. “I guess you told your secret, I can tell mine.”

You nod and place your hand on his forearm, encouraging him.

“I can astral project. I’m pretty sure it started when I was younger and that the coma my parents told me about wasn’t a coma. It’s gotten really bad recently. The dimension where I go, the Further, is full of souls and demons that are trying to get out. Every time I try to sleep, I end up there and I- I don’t know what to do.”

“I can help.”

Dalton shakes his head. “How?”

“Promise not to freak out?”

Dalton’s eyes widen in anticipation rather than fear this time, and he smiles as he nods. You wave your hand in a circle, flourishing at the bottom to open the pocket dimension in which your spell book resides. Pulling the heavy book onto your table, Dalton watches in awe as you close the dimensional rift behind it. Finding a worn tab near the back, you open the book and begin reading.

“Feel free to share with the class, Professor,” Dalton teases, looking over your shoulder. “Is that Latin?”

“Some of it. Basically, this spell works as a sort of immobilization and a warding spell combination. It doesn’t actually immobilize you, but it keeps your astral body, soul, whichever you prefer, in this dimension. The warding aspect ensures that any portal opened by your gift isn’t usable from the other side.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning nothing in the Further can come through to this dimension.”

“So, it would close the door?” Dalton asks excitedly.

“Not exactly. My understanding of the Further is that there is a door within it, in addition to any route that can be opened to enter or exit it. Basically, the door you’re talking about is to a room within a house. This won’t keep things from using that door, but it stops them before they make it to this world.”

“And the spell helps me sleep?”

“The spell itself, no. I’ll have to enchant something with the spell, then you keep that object with you when you sleep, and it will provide a broader coverage of the spell. Imagine the object having the spell locked within it, on a never-ending loop. Enchanting an object repeats the spell over and over because the spell lives within it.”

“Okay. What kind of object?”

Your hands raise to the amulet on your neck. It has been awaiting its purpose for over half a decade, and it has finally come. You unhook the clasp, pulling the chain from your neck.

“Whoa, what are you doing?” Dalton asks, his hands grabbing yours.

“Enchanting this amulet. Then you can just wear it to sleep.”

“I’ve never seen you without this thing.”

“I haven’t taken it off since I was thirteen. I’ve been waiting for the right time to enchant it, its sole purpose.”

“But it’s yours.”

“And I want to give it to you. Dalton, you’re worth this. Let me do this for you. You are the only reason I feel like I belong here, you’re my only friend, and this is the least I can do for you.”

“Only if you’re sure.”

You nod, and Dalton slowly removes his hands, watching you open your ingredient cabinet and pull a few new candles and a letter opener.

“What’s everything for? Can you talk me through it until you have to concentrate?”

“So, I’ll light the candles as part of the spell, then – this part’s kind of gross – I have to add some blood to the melted wax, then heat the amulet over the flame while I project the spell into it.”

Dalton nods with your explanation, cringing slightly at the mention of blood. You tell him the names and general purposes of the items as you set everything up, then ask him to step back as you begin.

“Corpus, caro et anima, malum annulos, animus nolo depreadandum, maneo. Body, flesh and soul, evil tolls, the soul will not pray, stay,” you begin, chanting as the candle melts. When the black wax begins to pour over the edge, you lift the letter opener and prick your forefinger, ignoring Dalton’s gasp as a drop of blood mixes into the hot liquid. You continue the chant as you hold the amulet over the flame, gaining volume until the amulet is too hot to hold. When you drop the necklace on the table, the candle goes out, and the flame dances in the amulet briefly before everything returns to normal.

“That’s going to take a while to get used to,” Dalton mutters.

“You said that like you’re sticking around.” It’s not a question, but you say it as if it were.

“Where would I go? Find a better friend than the one who pricked her finger to keep me from having what are essentially bad dreams?”

“You and I both know they’re not bad dreams,” you point out as you motion for Dalton to sit down. You put the amulet on, stepping around him to see how it looks. “She told me I’d know when it was time.”

“Who?”

“The psychic who gave me the amulet. I went to see her after I found out I was a witch.”

Dalton nods. “Have you seen her again?”

“No, but I’m planning to visit someone who knew her well.”

“I just have more questions now.”

“I’m going to Five Keys, New Mexico, to talk to a guy called Specs.”

Dalton stands and takes your hands. “Thank you for the amulet, I’m going to go sleep for a very long time. Then I want to hear more about this trip because there is no way you are going by yourself.”

“Did you just invite yourself?” you ask as he picks up his bag and heads for the door.

“What was it you said? That I’m worth it? Well, so are you,” he calls as the door closes.

If Dalton's going to keep looking at you like that, you're going to have to learn the cloaking flame move.

That night, Dalton sleeps peacefully for the first time in years, dreaming of you while you wonder what kind of magic brought Dalton Lambert into your life.

[wyldblunt]

It is I, the previous anon unmasked. I have questions about the Mordrem Daimhin post: what caused them to give in to Mordy :0c

(the mordrem dav post in question, since i'm answering this late!) OKAY SO.... i initially intended for this to be a quick doodle answer but then as i started chewing on it i realized to answer this question i have to talk about. basically dav's entire life story. and i'm incapable of brevity. so oops, here's an illustrated essay about daimhin's entire life story?

let's talk it out. let's start with this.

let's say you awake a valiant of the wyld hunt, entwined with another -- same day, different cycle. you wake up promptly at midnight, go straight to his pod and sit outside it. he takes his sweet fucking time, sleeping WAY in, and only finally ambles his way out a few scant seconds before daybreak, yawning.

you've seen the same things, and neither of you know what any of it means; none of the images in your entwined dreams seem to actually crystallize into a task. but you glimpse a symbol that matches one day on a banner, find out it's the emblem of the order of whispers, and know that must be where you need to go. so you start training.

he trains half as hard for twice the results. he cares half as much and gets twice the rewards. there was an assumption, when you first woke, that the two of you would stay in lockstep forever -- you must be absolutely equal, if you share a destiny -- but it doesn't hold true for even a moment.

(of course, you don't know he feels the same exact way about you; you don't know about the gnawing bitterness, the envy, that you can learn anything by trying hard enough, while he feels hopeless about anything that doesn't fall within his raw talent. he hides it well, and you never ask.)

he makes it into the order on his first try. but they don't want you.

you're devastated. he's not. "there's no time limit," he says, breezy as always. and it's not like he'd leave you behind.

but it takes two more years. two years, for you to hone yourself into something the order of whispers wants. as little as donner ever seems to care about the hunt, how can he suppress the itching it when it comes, the agitation? how can he outrun the resentment, when you're holding him in place?

you don't talk about it. you just keep your head down and work harder. the fear of his impatience morphing into contempt is a stronger motivator than anything else you've tried so far.

when you get through, you get through, and then, finally, it feels like you'll be rewarded -- because almost immediately, you run into the next symbol from your dreams. the dark and terrible thief, towering, wreathed in smoke, and FINALLY things are going right because he takes a professional interest in you immediately, mentors you, assigns you to his own personal task squad (and this, alone, is enough to make up for everything you've suffered so far). but.

holding the lightbringer's attention is difficult; pleasing him is impossible. to impress him? a complete fantasy, one you can't even daydream about for too long without hurting your own feelings.

this is when everything was meant to even out, and instead you're competing again. not just with donner, either; even with the stupid necromancer he already had, the one who can barely keep herself alive and seems to have NO formal training whatsoever.

worst of all -- as humiliating as it is to put this particular juvenile grievance into words -- he doesn't even seem to like you.

you keep your head down. you work harder. if anything, that makes it worse; the squeaky wheel gets the oil, after all, and you never make a sound.

then he replaces you.

("no, he didn't," donner insists, one night shortly after merrit's introduction, when you're complaining about it; "replacing you would be if you were kicked out of the squad. there's just a second mesmer now, that's all.")

but that's not all. you're watching.

it's not even that glyndwr is any less strict with the new mesmer, any less harsh towards her; but he's attentive. at times, he even seems concerned about her. you hear him call them his "charge," once, to one of his contacts at the vigil; he has only ever called the rest of you his "agents." the first time he slips up and calls them his son, you realize the enormity of the gap between you.

and it's incomprehensible. you have learned, quickly, that merrit is cowardly and self-absorbed. his mesmerism is disorganized, improvised, unflattering, concerned only with survival. he takes the easy way out in missions, over and over, always without hesitation and seemingly without shame; worse than that, he seems baffled by your disapproval when you confront him about it.

donner can tell how unhappy they make you. maybe that's why he's always so cruel to them. you're selfish enough not to do anything about it, to even be a little pleased by these scraps of locker room vengeance.

you keep your head down. you work harder. acceptance of your position grows around your ribs and down your throat like a strangling vine.

eventually, you're all dispatched to maguuma.

it's horrible, but so was orr. it's lonely, but so is everything else in your life. but the commander is twitchy, agitated, scattered. he jumps at shadows. he lashes out at comrades. is he thinking about what his behavior brings on all your heads, when he acts like this?

is he thinking about you when rytlock brimstone calls him a liability, and he snaps entirely?

obviously not. because after brimstone bests him and spits in the dirt, calling this outburst just another piece of evidence --

he leaves.

he leaves you here.

he leaves you to die in the fucking jungle.

("no he hasn't," merrit insists, even though she's been crying and panicking just like the rest of you. he goes on and on about how it's not fair to call it abandonment, about how it must be part of some greater plan, all that bullshit, and now even damage can't stand him and there has to be some scrap of satisfaction in that, that you're not the only one who's sick to death of the commander's precious favorite, but there isn't, there's just--)

this can't be him. this person cannot be the one who took up so much of your dream, the one who's supposed to be your destiny. unless that's all your dream was ever meant to be. can a wyld hunt be so awful? can your purpose be to die horribly, thousands of miles from home?

(until now, you have been very, very good at ignoring the call.)

(it hasn't known you well enough to tempt you.)

but... couldn't it be, that the commander's role in your story is now complete?

maybe this is exactly where you need to be. and if so, he brought you this far, safe and sound.

you can forgive him for this. after all, how could he have known...? how important it was, how vital, to bring--

[many-shades-of-violence]

Chronicles of the Heartbond Voyager I Chapter 1

summary:

In a world where adventure beckoned from beyond the horizon, where every breeze carried the whispers of distant lands, your story unfolded on a seemingly insignificant island nestled in the shadow of Paradise – a paradise you would never have thought to call it, at least not back then. As an aspiring writer, your heart yearned for the grand tales of the world, the untold stories that awaited discovery beyond the shores of your humble hometown. Yet, in an age dominated by pirates and peril, the prospect of embarking on such a journey alone was nothing short of a death wish. So, you clung to the safety of your quiet existence, hesitant to gamble your life so carelessly.

But fortune had other plans in store for you, my friend, and your destiny would soon be known as that of no other than that of a Heartbond Voyager. Little did you know that on that fateful day, when the winds of change set sail upon your life, you would become part of a legendary crew, embarking on a journey that would defy the very essence of danger and adventure.

characters: Reader & Heart Pirates

a/n: I've already shared the first seven chapters of this story on AO3 here. You're welcome to continue reading the rest of the chapters there.

If the response and engagement here on Tumblr are positive, I might consider sharing the remaining chapters here too. Your feedback and enthusiasm mean a lot to me!

In a world where adventure beckoned from beyond the horizon, where every breeze carried the whispers of distant lands, your story unfolded on a seemingly insignificant island nestled in the shadow of Paradise. You would never have thought to call it that back then, at least not back then, but as your journey would show, maybe it was that all along.

As an aspiring writer, your heart yearned for the grand tales of the world, the many untold stories that awaited discovery beyond the shores of your humble hometown called Rust. Yet, in an age dominated by pirates and peril, the prospect of embarking on such a journey alone was nothing short of a death wish for a novice in navigating and steering a ship, like yourself. So, you clung to the safety of your quiet existence, your heart squelched into the tiny room that you had closed yourself off to.

However, fortune had other plans in store for you, my friend, and your destiny would soon be known as that of none other than a Heartbond Voyager. Little did you know that on that fateful day, when the winds of change set sail upon your life, a yellow submarine arrived in the safe haven of the small town that caged your adventurous heart. You would become part of a legendary crew, embarking on a journey that would defy not only the very essence of danger and adventure but also that of your very own heart.

Normally, you should have known better than to react to the provocation of three ruffians from one of the many wretched pirate crews that dropped anchor on Rust regularly for supply stocking. Despite your awareness that every child on the island received lessons from the moment they could run around, you had ignored years of lectures. Most would have thought your outburst reckless, if not plain stupid, when they saw the reason for it: three men snatching a small black notebook you were writing in with a long fountain pen. However, for you, there was every reason to be fueled by rage, as the notebook not only continued with your full dedication-crafted stories but also held the essence that kept you driven to cling onto your life, played out on the stage that was this silly little haven.

Suppressing your initial response to snatch at the hand of the large man who had taken your notebook in his greasy hands, you calmly requested its return. But when they ignored you, mocking your writing aloud after a solid second of staring at your font, your restraint was shattered by their laughter, which sounded like nails on a chalkboard.

With your heart pounding in your ears, you sprang from the wooden chair you were seated on, the nearly empty coffee cup on the table nearly tumbling over in the process. You attempted to reclaim your beloved notebook with a precise jump at the large man holding it, only to be swiftly sidelined by one of their cronies with a strong push to your shoulder mid-jump. You stumbled a few steps away, gripping the table next to you to stabilize yourself.

"Hey now, no need for such a fuss, sweetie. Don't you know anger causes wrinkles? Put that pretty face to good use instead," the tall man who seemed to be their leader taunted, his patronizing tone infuriating as his lips curled into a smile. He invaded your personal space in a swift movement, tilting your chin upward as if inspecting a prize.

As his greasy hands wrapped around your chin, your patience expired, your teeth clenching in disgust as your palm instinctively swatted his hand away from you with a sharp slap. Your eyes ablaze with rage, you growled at him, "I'd rather have wrinkles than be as witless as your lot." His reaction was immediate, a scowl on his face.

At the exact moment he wanted to retort, a familiar face emerged from the café's kitchen—Tenshû, the kind coffee shop owner with whom you often shared your creative musings and who had offered you a place to sleep in exchange for helping him during busy hours at the café. He seemed to have been drawn by the commotion in the dining area, his concerned green eyes scanning the unsettling tableau as he arrived on the scene. He opened his mouth to ask with worry in his voice, "Y/n, what is going on here?" His outcry earned a stern glare from one of the other intruders, who grabbed the next best chair and toppled it over as a warning sign. The elderly café owner came to a halt at the bar counter, his hand gripping the wooden counter in a mixture of anger and panic, unsure of what to do as he tried to catch your eyes.

Worried for his well-being, the man, already in his late 60s and therefore more fragile with each passing day, your head snapped around, your voice smothered with as much reassurance as you could muster, "Don't worry, Tenshû. I've got this under control." However, before you could take further action, the idea forming in your head to lure the guys out of the café, the group's leader sprung forward, seizing you by your collar, his grip way stronger than you had anticipated. With a sneer, he posed a challenge, his brow furrowed in anger, "I don't really think so, bitch."

You widened your eyes in horror as the man raised you in the air, and in an instant, propelled you through the nearby café window with brutal force. The cacophony of shattering glass and your own pained gasp merged into a disorienting symphony, dizziness making your head spin as you hit the cobblestone ground in front of the café. Pain coursed through your body as you slowly lifted your bruised form from the ground. The sting of glass embedded in your palms was a cruel reminder of the chaos that you had just unleashed, and your instincts screamed at you to get up and run for your life. However, there was something you needed to get back, no matter the cost.

Your notebook.

Amidst the disoriented hubbub of you trying to get back on your feet, the café door swung open toward the street, and the trio of ruffians swaggered out, their laughter echoing behind them. The leader's jeering gaze met yours as you struggled to stand on the cold, stony ground, your eyes fierce with determination to not give him a hint of recognition, acknowledging that you were clearly outmatched. Behind the shattered window, Tenshû's frantic gestures painted a picture of his anxiety, and his voice pleaded with them to cease as he rushed behind them.

Your heart constricted painfully as one of the thugs retreated into the café, his actions cruel and abrupt as he pushed Tenshû forcefully, knocking him unconscious with a brutal hit to the gut. You cried out his name, frustration gnawing at you. Had you submitted to their demands, the poor man might have been spared this useless suffering. You gripped the ground beneath you, ignoring the searing sharp pain of cold glass digging into your hands, to lift yourself to your feet.

"Still spunky, I see," the tall leader jeered, his tone dripping with mockery as he gestured to his cohort and threw your cherished notebook right before you on the ground. Your eyes widened, quick to scoot forward to retrieve it, but before you knew it, the group's leader had given you a harsh kick to the gut, the tip of his leather heel connecting unpleasantly with your abdomen. You coughed up spit, falling back onto your knees.

With a heavy sigh, you directed your gaze downward, the urge to retaliate stifled by the realization that their attack had already taken its toll. The sharp glass splinters embedded in your palms hurt like hell, your head was dizzy from being thrown around, and your gut still throbbed from the assault mere seconds ago. "You ought to learn to pick your battles more wisely, sweetie," the leader's harsh laughter resonated, his intention clear as he aimed to stomp on the precious paper strewn on the ground. Your body resisted heavily against his attack, but you couldn't stop your instinct to thrust your hands between the notebook and his relentless boot, your teeth clenched against the pain that shot through your fingers as the hard heel of his boot connected with your knuckles. You cried out in pain, but despite the agony, you persisted, your grip unwavering on the small booklet.

"Why do you care so much about that useless thing, anyway? It's pathetic," he barked, his leather-clad feet mercilessly targeting your hands again and again. Each brutal kick felt like a hammer striking your hands. You could feel the heat of the bruises forming beneath the onslaught as your skin was getting bruised more and more. The pain was searing, but you held on tightly, determined not to let go of what meant so much to you.

After all, if you let go of that last piece that kept your sanity in this cage you had locked yourself into, what else would there be?

You knew that all of this was nearly insane, especially since help from the other townspeople was nearly out of the question, now that Tenshû was unconscious. While some surely would have loved to reach out a hand, wishing to be a hero for someone in need, you knew all too well that only a few selected had the true strength to act on their desire. Honestly, you weren't too sure if you would have helped yourself in the first place. After all, to most of them, you were just the silly coffee girl at Tenshû's with those funky ideas to travel the world and write about it. Give her a few years, and the nonsense would leave her mind.

You clenched your teeth, your heart sinking. Your survival instinct made you dearly wish that someone, just anyone, would reach out, but at the same time, you knew this was out of the question. Humans, in their innermost, were foolish beings. Your decision to stay for your cherished notebook was proof enough.

Tears welled in your eyes from the anguish, but you remained resolute, shielding your notes with every ounce of strength. With each repeated kick, more and more tears collected at the edge of your eyes, the pain of your hands being stomped like this making you reach your pain limit torturously fast. Amid the onslaught, the townsfolk's apprehension was palpable, and silent pleas started amidst the crowd for the ordeal to finally end.

"You know what? Maybe if you beg and apologize to me, I'll consider stopping!" your assaulter taunted, his kicks stopping for a second. From the way he spoke, you realized he was clearly getting out of breath, using the line to make some time to not look utterly pathetic in front of his mates. However, you were keen to prove him wrong, shaking your head vigorously, your grip on the notebook unyielding as you looked back at him with fierce eyes, tears close to spilling over. “Try me.” You braced yourself for the inevitable escalation, his fist or foot connecting with your face. But as the anger vessel on his forehead nearly looked as if it would burst, his movement ceased abruptly, as a blue light enveloped your field of sight.

“Room.”

For a quick second, you couldn't comprehend what you were witnessing in front of your eyes, the sight being absolutely new to you. Then the nerves in your brain finally connected to the information your eyes were trying to send them. If the blood in your ears wasn't drumming like crazy from the adrenaline in your body, you would have heard the horrified cries of the townspeople and their hastened shuffle of footsteps to flee the stage. However, all you were focused on was the sight of your assaulter slashed into pieces, his body parts seemingly disconnected from one another as they fell gruesomely to the ground.

You looked at the dissected head of your assaulter in awe, trying to comprehend what was going on. He apparently was doing the same, his eyes ripped open widely, looking around in desperation.

You tried to get your body moving, the urges to investigate what was going on and to flee the scene too confusing to prompt you to act on either one of them. Amid your horrified contemplation, the goons of your assaulter sprang into action. One shushed away the remnants of his paralyzed leader, while another fled into the distance. Though you were aware of individuals with Devil Fruits, witnessing such a surreal manifestation was beyond your previous comprehension.

Your decision was finally taken from you, as a firm hand wrapped around your shoulder, making your head turn towards whoever was touching you from behind.

You slowly blinked, turning your head to three strangely hatted young men, one of them right next to your right shoulder, a long blade in his right hand, his left wrapped around your shoulder as his piercing eyes connected with yours. His short black hair was hidden away under a white hat with black spots, golden piercings adorning his ears.

The same voice that had intervened earlier resounded from the man. “Are you okay?" Still startled, you gazed up at him, only nodding in sheer disillusionment. He regarded your form, registering the extent of your response and injuries with a stoic expression. His head snapped for a brief second as he instructed the two mates behind him.

"Penguin, Shachi, tend to the guy in the café." Sheathing his sword back into its scabbard, he kneeled down beside you, gesturing toward your hands and raising an inquisitive brow. "May I? I'm a doctor." You nodded curtly, realizing with a quick look back at your hands the state they were in, the searing pain finally returning to your bloody hands. You winced as his hands carefully encircled yours, inspecting the damage with an experienced look.

Your gaze flickered to the cobblestone in front of you in the meantime, confirming that your notebook was still where you had last seen it – brutally but because of your best efforts still halfway alive on the ground. A small sigh left your lips at the realization, the snap of the young man’s fingers in front of you jolted you back to reality.

"Hey. Are you with me?" You looked up, locking eyes with the stranger, his golden gaze piercing through you. He sighed at your response, his gaze softening. "Listen, those injuries need immediate treatment. There are no fractures or broken bones, but the glass fragments must be removed, and the wounds disinfected to prevent infection and further swelling. I have supplies on my ship at the harbor, so I can treat you there." You nodded in understanding as he continued. “Can you stand?”

Affirming your ability to stand, you slowly lifted yourself up, suddenly recognizing the challenge of retrieving your notebook in your current state. Bloodied and battered hands wouldn't make the task easy and probably only taint it further. You wouldn't want your efforts from before to give the delicate booklet lasting damage. Your gaze darted back to the notebook, the young doctor following your gaze. Swiftly comprehending your unspoken concern, he responded with a nod, "I'll get it." Retrieving your notebook, he expertly cleared off the mud, his eyes briefly scanning its title site before slipping it safely under his arm.

"So, you're a writer, huh?" he remarked, a hint of a sympathetic smile tugging at his lips. Your own smile was tinged with pain as you recollected the recent encounter. "Well, not according to the ruffians who tossed me through that window, but yeah."

The man’s eyes peaked with interest, his look back on the notebook for a quick second before he tended back to you. With his guidance, you moved forward, your damaged hands a painful reminder of the events that had unfolded, blood dripping slowly from the tattered wound.

"Obviously, they were a bunch of morons. You've got to have a good reason to endure a beating like this just to protect a notebook," Law commented, his dry humor drawing a light smile from you.

"Yeah, guess so. Or maybe I've really gone crazy. Can't really say much for the quality of what I'm exactly doing," you shrugged your shoulder, wincing at the pain in your hands.

"So, what's the name of my savior?"

"The name's Law," he introduced himself, his name carrying a certain weight that you couldn't quite pinpoint. “Law…” you murmured, trying out the name on your tongue. “That's a nice name. Short but nice.” The young doctor arched a cocky eyebrow at you. “You sure you’re okay? Not delirious from blood loss?” You shook your head. “Shouldn't you know better?” you chuckled before replying to his introduction. “Ah, I'm y/n, by the way.” Law nodded appreciatively before you continued to walk along the last few meters of the cobblestone street towards Rust's small harbor.

Arriving at the harbor, you were taken aback by the sight of not a ship but a yellow submarine, its quirky hue juxtaposed against the expanse of the rich blue sea. The word "DEATH" was emblazoned on its side, adjacent to a bold jolly-roger crest. You couldn't help but gawk at the sight, a mixture of intrigue flooding your senses. "I hope that's not your motto for treatment?" you quizzed, surprised by the revelation that your savior was none other but a pirate himself.

Law responded matter-of-factly. "I try my best not to. It's more of a memento to keep up with my work than anything else.” You nodded absentmindedly, his statement raising your intrigue further. It wasn't every day that you heard of somebody using a counter thesis as a prospect of motivation.

"Just hang on a moment. I'll grab some supplies and be right back," Law informed you before disappearing quickly into the vibrant submarine, leaving you alone on the long wooden jetty. As you waited, slowly sitting yourself on a wooden box close by, the calls of seagulls and the cool breeze provided a moment of respite, allowing your tense shoulders to finally relax for the first time since the whole ordeal began back in the café.

You were still a bit too shaken up to revisit what had just happened. Your brain was still trying to process the grotesque picture of your assaulter slashed into pieces. Your thoughts turned to what you would do once treated – either trying to clean your notebook or evaluate the time-cost factor of the arduous task of transcribing. The latter seemed the more viable option, though it would undoubtedly be labor-intensive. Lost in these musings, you suddenly realized that this Law guy still had your notebook with him.

An internal reminder pushed you to ensure he returned it to you once your treatment was done.

In your predicament, there probably wouldn't be any crueler joke than for the notebook you had let your hands be beaten to pulp to travel the world with some pirate crew, while you were still stuck in your little terrorizing haven that was this island.

Your contemplation was broken when the two hatted figures from earlier emerged on the landing stage of the submarine, making their way back to it, their voices making you snap out of your train of thought. You looked up to the two men, the one with the casket-hat, shrouded in dark sunglasses, seemed taken aback by your presence.

"Didn't expect to see you here again," he remarked, a hint of interest lacing his tone.

The other pal next to him, a man with a penguin hat and a bit taller, regarded you with curiosity.

"Did the Captain bring you here for treatment?" he inquired. You nodded, realizing that the man you had encountered was not only a doctor and a pirate but the captain of the goddamn vessel. With the memento of DEATH latched onto the submarine, it should've been clear to you directly, but you attributed it to your current state that you couldn't put one and one together so quickly.

Talk about a jack of all trades, you thought before continuing your conversation.

“Yeah, I'm just waiting for him. I think he wanted to get some supplies from inside that thing,” you said, motioning to the submarine with your head.

The casket-hatted man gave your hands a quick look before a sympathetic grin crept on his lips, exposing a set of pointed teeth.

"The Polar Tang? He's an impressive one, isn't he?" he commented, admiration evident in his words.

You looked a bit perplexed at the red-head. “Who? The ship?”

The man nodded again, as if he hadn't said anything unusual. “Sure thing. Boy is made for our adventures on the Grand Line.”

"The Grand Line?” you mumbled fascinated. “Sounds like you're on quite the adventure. Must be quite an experience.” With a touch of reverence in your voice, your gaze swept over the endless expanse of the blue sea, imagining the many potential adventures and stories to be jotted down waiting out there.

The man in the penguin hat responded with enthusiastic energy, "Want to hear some of our recent stories while you wait for the Captain?"

Your head snapped back to him, eyes sparkling for a brief second, however, Law’s return interrupted the conversation, his presence commanding attention as the joy bubbling in your stomach was put to a halt. “That won't be necessary.”

In his hands, he held a few bandages and disinfectant, a signal that your hands would finally receive the care they needed.

He queried towards both men as he slowly made it to your side. "Did you get the café owner treated?"

"Yeah, he's alright. A solid punch to the gut, but some rest will do him good," The man with the casket-hat said. Law responded with an approving nod before turning his attention to you. "Alright, let's get those hands treated. You guys go up ahead. I'll join soon."

His crewmates bid their farewells, offering waves and a grin to you before heading back onto the yellow submarine. Law took a seat on a wooden crate beside you, his focus shifting entirely to your injured hands. “You mind if I use my devil fruit during the procedure? Might be less painful then.” Your eyebrows widened. “Devil Fruit?” Law nodded, summoning a small blue dome in his hands, which you recognized as the sphere you saw earlier seconds before your assaulter got dissected. “I ate the OP-OP Fruit. Basically, I can manipulate everything that happens in this blue dome, including feelings of pain.” You gulped, your throat suddenly dry. “So, it was you who slashed this guy before?” He gave you a sinister grin. “Sure, but that's only a practice I use on my enemies. Not my patients.” For a brief second, you mustered the blue dome with skepticism, then you sighed in defeat, the pulsating pain in your hands finally making you give in. “Alright, I'm counting on you, doc.” The young man chuckled, the blue dome surrounding your hands in a second. “Sure do.”

You were amazed to realize that the moment the blue dome surrounded your bloody hands, the pain stopped. Your eyes widened in amazement, your lips parting slightly as Law started with the treatment of your hands only moments later. With quick movements, he pulled on a pair of gloves over his tan hands, a pair of tweezers suddenly in his slim fingers to pull out the small shards of glass from your palms. You followed his every movement, stunned by his professional demeanor. “Not that I mind, but you don't have to watch if it's unpleasant for you, y'know.” Law murmured, concentrated on freeing a particularly treacherous piece of glass from your right palm. “I don't really mind. Besides, witnessing this firsthand only adds to my writing.” For a quick second, Law looked up at you, stilling in his movement before putting the tweezers away, the final shard of glass apparently gone from your wounded flesh.

Next, the young man drenched a cotton pad with disinfectant, carefully rubbing the drenched wool over your hands, clearing the tissue not only of the blood but disinfecting it in the process. Usually, the sting of disinfectant would have elicited a wince from you, however, due to the blue sphere around your hands, you felt only the pressure of Law's hands carefully dabbing the wet cotton pad over your hands. “A fruit like this, sure comes in handy as a doctor.” You stated still amazed at the procedure you were witnessing. The stoic features of Law elicited a small smile at the corner of his lips. “Sure does.”

Finally, the young man discarded the now bloodied cotton ball to his side, grabbing a pair of bandages in exchange. “Alright, just gotta wrap them, and we're done.” You nodded, your gaze drifting slowly back to the wide sea right next to you, the sound of the ocean waves calming your nerves with each passing moment the water hit the close-by shores. “Can't say much for how well your body heals right now, but you should be back to finishing the story you're working on in a week or so…” Your head snapped back to Law as he issued the words, apparently hyper-focused on wrapping the cotton fabric around your hands, because he suddenly stopped dead in track, meeting your irritated gaze. There was no way he could know about what you were working on except if he did what you think he did.

"Sorry, I couldn't help but take a peek at your notebook. I should've asked first," Law admitted, a touch of what you interpreted as embarrassment in his voice at being caught red-handed.

Your initial surprise shifted to understanding. "It's alright, really. They're mostly just silly stories anyway."

His hummed in response, his yellow eyes assessing your bandaged hands before he voiced his thoughts. "I don't have the full picture, but I enjoyed what I read. You have a captivating way with words."

His compliment stirred a mixture of emotions within you, your heart fluttering with a blend of disbelief and appreciation for his kind words.

"Thanks, I guess,” you responded, a hint of bashfulness in your voice as you regarded your bandaged hands. Your focus shifted to the yellow submarine in the distance, a new topic to explore. "What brings you guys to a quiet island like Rust? We're not exactly known for being relevant in the pirate world," you inquired, curiosity piqued.

Law grinned lightly, his demeanor relaxed. "Just passing through. Some of the crew gets a bit restless when we're under the sea for too long. Also, it's always a handy way to stock up on rations." He gestured toward the depths of the ocean, which you now realized were part of their unconventional mode of travel. You couldn't help but notice that each member of their crew had individual letters tattooed on their fingers, although you couldn't quite decipher the full message, except for the word "DEATH."

Hearing about their unique method of exploration made your curiosity soar. It was indeed a first to hear about a pirate crew traveling with a submarine. However, on the treacherous waters of the Grand Line, it certainly seemed like a practical choice.

"And what about you? Any plans to travel for your craft?" Law posed the question, and your gaze returned to the young doctor as he completed the final steps of bandaging your hands.

"I wish. But it's a far-off dream," you sighed, your gaze shifting to the horizon. "I've always wanted to venture beyond this town and write about the wide world out there. But I've never had the courage to do it alone. I mean, you saw how well I fared on my own back there," you chuckled lightly, your self-deprecation tinged with a hint of melancholy.

"What if you tried it with a crew?" Law's question caught you off guard, his suggestion sparking intrigue. You chuckled softly, appreciating the irony of his proposal. "Me? Lead a crew? That's a comical thought."

Law hummed again in response, slowly backing up a bit. “Alright, we're finished. I'll remove my Room now, so the pain in your hands will return.” You nodded, preparing for the initial wave of sensations in your hands as you rested them on your knees. With a snap of his fingers, the blue dome was slowly lifted from your hands, disappearing into thin air. You hissed as you once more felt the uncomfortable sting in them, though it already felt much better than when the glass splinters were still embedded.

You examined your bandaged hands, recognizing the skilled work the young doctor had done on them. You weren't an expert, but they looked pretty well bandaged to you. Just as you wanted to look up at Law to thank him for his hard work, you were surprised to see him holding your notebook out in front of him, focusing you with his piercing eyes.

"How about joining my crew?"

With wide eyes, you stared at Law, your heart beating loudly in your ears. You looked down at your notebook, lips parted in sheer disbelief at his offer. “B-But I've got no seamanship skills, let alone fighting-.” Law cut you off firmly. "All skills that you can learn. However, I've been on the lookout for a capable log keeper, and I believe I've finally found the perfect fit." Law's gaze remained unwavering, his eyes steady and determined.

The setting sun cast a gentle radiance over him, while the wind tousled your hair and the distant cry of a seagull echoed in the background. In that moment, the world seemed to fall into place, the sky's hues suddenly bursting with vibrancy you hadn't noticed in a long while.

"I can't promise you an easy or safe life, but if it's adventures you're searching for, we're your best bet," Law offered. You stared at your notebook, glossing over its cover on which the words “Tales of…” were written in ink, your crucial reminder to someday go out into the world and find an answer to the missing part.

You knew that joining a pirate crew could cost you not only the comfort of your current life but life in general. However, deep down inside, together with the pulsating beating in your ears, you just knew that you didn't have to think long about this. You knew your answer, and dancing around the fact that somebody had finally opened the door of the cage you had locked yourself into wouldn't change anything.

Just as Law was poised to offer you a moment for contemplation, you lifted your gaze from the notebook to meet his, determination shimmering in your eyes as the sun's rays glistened.

"Count me in, Captain.”

Law's smirk spread like a contagion, his expression carrying the aura of someone who had not only expected your response but also reveled in your direct commitment to him.

"Then, allow me to welcome you to the Heart Pirates. I´m counting on you.”

You smiled at his words, a wide grin apparent on your features, as you carefully took the notebook between your fingertips, pressing it close to your chest. Just as Law wanted to reply something to you, two unexpected voices coming from the deck of

"I told you she'd join, Penguin!" "Wah, can't believe such a cutie will join the crew!" The men with the penguin and casquet-hats from earlier were leaning against the railing of the submarine's deck with big grins on their faces, hugging each other excitedly.

"Excuse those two, they're always like this," Law let out a sigh, his hand rising to his forehead in exasperation before continuing, "We'll depart tomorrow morning, so you still have a bit of time for goodbyes."

A chuckle escaped your lips at the antics of the two young men on the deck, and you waved a greeting to them with your bandaged hands, to which they happily replied. Then, you nodded to your newfound captain. "Then I'll join you in the morning."

Law nodded before slowly rising and turning towards the Polar Tang with a content look on his face. "Alright. Be sure not to use your hands too much, alright?" You nodded, waving him goodbye and making your way across the jetty. Suddenly realizing you hadn't thanked Law for your treatment, you turned around, shouting, "Captain!" The young man turned from the deck, surprised as you lifted one of your bandaged hands towards the sky, a smile on your lips despite the initial pain from the movement. "Thank you for the treatment!"

In that instant, as the sun descended in the sky, your captain pulled his hat closer to his face while raising his hands in reply. The world around you seemed to glisten with untapped potential, and you sensed the currents of destiny shifting. Your heart set ablaze, its excited drumming followed you on the way back home, accompanied by the low sound of the tides clashing against the shore.