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silence-burns · 10 months

Text

A Snack of Mine

Fandom: Spider-Man universe

smut 18+

The smashing noises coming from what Miguel called “the control room” sounded expensive. You may not have been an expert in all things technical, but you were pretty sure the room was in the process of a violent remodeling.

“Right,” you said. “And you expect me to do what exactly?”

“How am I supposed to know? It's not me who's usually had to restrain him in this kind of state. It's not my fault no one wants to get close to him. They kinda have a point, though.” Lyla flew around your head, ethereal as ever.

A crash louder than the previous ones came from behind The Door To Miguel's Lair.

“You do realize he's just ripped a monitor off the wall?”

“You do realize I have no physical presence to do anything about it?”

Point taken. It didn't make you feel any better and Lyla’s constant spinning didn't exactly help you get your bearings.

You waved your hand through her before the colorful but pixelated display of her panic blinded you completely. If it was an option, you would've gladly allowed anyone else to take your place. Sadly, none of the currently available Peters had a chance of getting to Miguel through his fury.

And hunger.

You sighed before moving towards The Door of Doom.

"Miguel, I come in peace!"

The kind of snarling that came from the other side was not something a human throat should've been able to handle.

"Be a good, nonlethal boy for 10 minutes and you'll get a snack. Maybe even McDonald's!"

The silence that followed was heavy enough to imply precisely where you could shove all the burgers in the worlds, but it was better than blinding rage; you were already making progress! You shoved the door open, quickly closing it behind your back. You clicked the lock into place.

It wasn't sturdy enough to keep any of the Spidermen out, but it served as a symbol. You walked into his lair, and now you had to deal with the consequences.

Miguel was meticulous in his fury. The room used to serve him as both a personal space and one of his less official offices, where he spent time thinking and planning without anyone bothering him. He was the head of the squad meant for suppressing the threats to the entire multiverse, so he had to deal with a never ending stream of things to take care of. A little bit of private space was a healthy solution.

Unfortunately, due to the circumstances called Miles Morales Versus Bad Decision Making, the otherwise pleasant, calming space was now in pieces. Literally—half the furniture lay in ruin spread across the floor like rubble after an explosion.

"I think you missed a few." You kicked away a rather big part of what used to be a desk. "You gotta be more thorough, man."

As much as you wished to feel even half as confident as you sounded, it was a rather difficult task when the only part of Miguel you could see were his eyes, glowing bright red and piercing you through, unblinking. The only source of light was dim and came from behind the broken furniture. The outline of Miguel's body was hardly discernible from the darkness of the room, but you swore he was towering over you more than usual.

And completely still.

"I really hope you aren't too sentimental, because there's no way anything here is savable. You gotta invest in a proper punching bag, or maybe two just in case—..."

"You think this is a joke?"

His voice was low and on the verge of growling. The situation with Miles definitely got under his skin.

"Call me old-fashioned, but I prefer to face my problems with a healthy dose of humor rather than destruction of my belongings. You've got claw marks on your walls, Miguel, come on. Don't you think it’s a bit too dramatic?"

Before you could blink, he was on you. Your back hit the wall just inches from the mentioned claw marks—deep, sharp, and clearly torn through with a lot of force. Looking up into Miguel's glowing eyes and the barely hidden fangs, you knew how capable he was of using said force.

Miguel leaned closer to you, his hand holding you still by the shoulder. Pressed between him and the wall, you could feel your pulse rising, and it was only partially thanks to the heat emanating from Miguel's body.

"The structure of the whole multiverse could be destroyed because of one person."

His voice was so low you could barely understand the words growled from his clenched jaw. Miguel's eyes burned to the point where you could no longer turn your head away. It was hypnotizing and a part of you didn't want to fight it.

"He's a child, Miguel. He's fifteen and his whole world just came crashing down on him."

"It doesn't give him the right to destroy everyone else's."

"No, but he's scared. Scared children need supportive adults, not claws in their faces."

Miguel's eyes dipped down over your lips for a split second, but something shifted through his posture. Still tense, his voice got quieter and lost the aggression. You were so close together that he was almost whispering in your ear, and yet you couldn't hear anything around but him.

"And what would you prefer me to do?" he purred.

"Everyone is already looking for Miles, so let his friends talk to him first once he's found. He has nowhere in the multiverse to hide forever."

Miguel's hand moved from your shoulder to the side of your neck. The claws retracted and now his touch was almost gentle. You missed it, just as you missed the kind of heat that was rising up behind the flaming red of his eyes, different from what most people ever got to see. Something reserved for you.

You turned your face to the side, letting his fingers caress your cheek. Miguel froze, entranced by the way his thumb rested over your lip and how your smile seemed to widen when you noticed too.

"I prefer you like this," you said, making your voice come out as barely a whisper. In his state, Miguel would've heard you from another room.

You didn't notice when it happened, but he was closer now, imprisoning you between himself and the wall. You both inhaled at the same time, chests pressing together a moment. His whole body was tense and wrapped tight around you. His thighs crushed yours and you wouldn't be able to move away even if you wanted to.

"I know what you're doing and… this really isn't a good time."

"You say it with such a scary look on your face, and yet you do nothing to stop me."

Miguel's nostrils flared when you put your teeth over your bottom lip.

And pushed.

Miguel's hand wrapped around your jaw, holding your face up towards him. His fingers dug into your skin, the gentle caress long gone. There was only a firm hold and a predator that smelled blood.

His pupils narrowed in a split second and the breath he took was shaky, as if he wanted to smell every bit of blood rising from the tiny cut.

"You've been on that artificial shit for a long time now," you cooed. "But we both know it can never be quite the same as the real thing."

You could see him trying to say something, but nothing came out of his mouth. You stood on the tips of toes and brushed his lips with yours.

It was as if an electric shock struck his body. Miguel growled as he forced your mouth open, and then again when his warm tongue licked the blood smeared over you. He forced you back down with one push of his hips and you could feel him growing harder despite his spider suit.

He sucked on your lip, hungry for more, just as his other hand found its way onto your hip and held it firmly against his own.

Miguel's open-mouthed kisses were growing sloppier as he followed your jawline and down the side of your neck. You couldn't help but push your fingers into his curls, marveling over how soft they felt and how perfect they were for grabbing his head and moving it just to the spot you wanted him at.

Despite the urgency of his need and all of his senses blurry, Miguel let you guide him, breathing in your scent. There were no words to explain how much he missed it every time you had to go back to your own universe and leave him thinking, wanting and alone.

Miguel loved the way your nails sank into his hair and tugged harder every time he scratched your skin with his fangs. He couldn't help himself when he heard the softest of moans leave your throat and felt the way you kept grinding yourself over his cock. Miguel bit your shoulder hard when your hand wandered to his still clothed shaft and lightly scratched over the thin, bulging fabric.

"You're really testing my patience," he breathed into your skin.

"I hope you earn a good grade."

Miguel's hand moved from your hip to the bracelet controlling the features of his suit, but you slapped it away before he could take it off. You pressed harder over his erection, stretching the suit more.

"Who said I'm gonna let you rush so much?"

"I really don't think we have the—..."

A loud knock on the closed door made you both jump.

"They found traces of Miles' signature!"

Miguel pushed his head into the crook of your swollen, tender neck, cursing with passion in Spanish. You may not have known the language well, but some things were truly universal.

You kissed his temple and brushed his wide shoulders. "You've got this."

Miguel took a slow, deep breath of your scent, noting all the various changes in it. But he did not budge.

"Prepare the team," he finally shouted back. "I'll be there in five minutes."

He caught your eyes widening and smiled ominously. The flaming red was shining through his own eyes again.

"I have something to take care of first."

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara #Spiderman across the spider verse miguel #atsv miguel #miguel spiderverse #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara imagine #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman atsv

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 11 months

Text

I'll crawl home to you II

Previous chapter

a/n I welcome you all to the part two. Thank you so much for all the love and reading. 🤍✨

summary: having a fight with someone you care about right before the mission might be the worst idea ever especially when you don't know if you'll make it out alive.

warning: fighting, guns, past trauma, injuries, blood lots of it, mentions of death, needles, IV's, bruised veins, heavy mention of hospitals, death nr.2, choking, nudity, mentions of sexual intoxications this one packs a punch so be weary.

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"Right, what's on your mind?", you muttered, pushing the cigarette closer to Javi, which he happily took into his fingers before dragging in the smoke. Allowing the warmth of it to go down his lungs. Javi was sitting by the tub in his apartment. The tub that he used as a shower at best. He hated baths, hence his naked, sprawled-out form, right beside the bath and not in it. Not behind you. Even if he wanted nothing more than another handful of moments of holding you. But it was enough to just watch you like this for now. More than enough. Well, Javi was convinced that he was still riding the post-orgasmic high.

"Work", he muttered, dropping his head back before puffing a cloud of smoke, "That fucking lead is on my mind". Your eyes scanned him for a moment. Today had been one of those days where, besides the unbearable heat, so much shit went south that the screaming in the office didn't ease till 3 in the afternoon. A new record of everyone being pissed off at one another was achieved.

"And how many fucks does it usually take you till you forget about work?", you asked, leaning your head at the edge of the bathtub. Not caring about covering yourself up. Javi had already seen everything more than once. Although you are being pressed against his bedroom wall, with him deep within you, growling in your ear as he edged you closer to your orgasm now felt ages ago, your skin was already missing the feeling of his fingers.

"One", Javi muttered, and you couldn't help the chuckle that escaped your lips. "Shit, agent, I'm doing that bad of a job?". Just what Javi truly meant was that it took one carelessness. Chaotic fuck with you. For him to come back to his senses. If he was fucking a random whore, his head wouldn't settle at all. And it's not even about the sex here. Fuck that, even if it's good. It's you. The smell of you. The way you trace your fingers down his back while he's still deep inside you, panting as he catches his breath. It's the way Javi can feel your heartbeat beneath him. The way your warm skin is pressed against his own, and he finally feels it Feels what calmness feels like. What it feels like to stop and just be.

Javi splashes his face with cold water, shoving that moment as deep as he possibly could. Not now. Not like this. His hands are still stained pink. Fuck knew the blood didn't budge like that. But then he had never been covered in so much blood before. Your blood. His body stagers again. The hours spent in the hospital had been brutal. Javi's eyes fall on the bandage covering the place where they had punctured a needle only a couple of hours ago. Had it only been that? A couple of hours? Javi runs his hand through his hair.

"Get a doctor in here! Quick!", A pair of nurses rushed out; Javi jumped up, and Steve was right beside him. You had been in that room for no longer than thirty minutes. It was all okay, they said. Under control. This didn't feel like something that was under control. "What is going on?", Javi's voice sounded weak. Gone were the confidence and snarl. No, Javi doesn't remember the last time he felt so many emotions. He did not know that he was capable of them.

"What the fuck? Is. Going. On. ", Javi swiftly yanked a nurse rushing to go back inside by the collar. Steve moved to step in, but at that moment, even he knew that interfering meant finding your head in the wall in the next ten seconds. "She's rapidly losing blood and the hospital…", the woman took a moment to swallow, and Javi quickly shook her, "Our blood supplies are low, sir".

And just like the moment the bullet pierced your skin, Javi's world stopped spinning. Halted. Shutting down all of his senses before he's thrown back into the waiting room once more. No. This can't be the reason you die. Fuck all of it. He'll pay for every drop of blood. He'll get you the blood himself if he had to. Get you… "It's the same…", Javi gripped the nurse's hand even tighter, "Tell them it's the same. Put me in there".

And that whole procedure was a blur. Until you're only a hand's reach away. The machines were clacking all around. The number of wires and tubes sticking out of your body was crippling to the core, and the first time Javi's eye landed on you, he had to fight the bile rising in his throat. Then the shock faded, and the need to protect you rose. To hold you. The machine that Javi too was hooked to started beeping, indicating the rapid increase of his heartbeat. His head jerked up; suddenly he was scared it would disturb you too much. But your eyes don't shoot open, and you weren't grumbling at him for being too noisy, like some mornings.

Javi clenches his jaw. Tears now once again threatened to spill over his cheeks. And they do. But Javi doesn't brush them away. Who cares. No one is here. Just you. He can be venerable in front of you. "You will wake up, right?", he muttered, his hands reaching out to touch your limp fingers. The angle was awkward. And the nurse had strictly informed Javi not to move his hand too much. But fuck that. Fuck rules. Were they getting you both anyway? So Javi laces his fingers through yours, "You will wake up and snarl at me, will you? For being an ass", Javi bites down on his lips, suppressing the sob that is now right there at the peak of his throat, "And yet I won't tell you; I told you so this time. You just woke up, okay?"

Javi rips the bandage off, right as another wave of tears blurs his vision. The vein raptured, and the purple bruise was already forming. But he didn't care; he couldn't bring himself to care. It had been static nothingness after they walked him out of the room. Out and away from you. Javi clenches the sink angrily. The old thing rattles beneath his grip. He should have pushed harder. He should have never walked out because his stupid, manly pride was hurt. And he knows that if you don't… No, Javi chases that thought away. We manifest our thoughts. His pope always said to him growing up, Be careful of what you think, Javier.

"I was a pinch away from blowing his balls right there and then", the back door shuts with a bang as you stride towards Javi, who had been leaning against the wall for the past ten minutes. "Did you pull your gun?", Javi asks casually, as if that were a normal procedure for a Thursday night. "Pulled? It was up his nutsack," Javi snickers. Poor fuck crapped his pants for sure. Now he's almost upset that he didn't stick around to see that.

"What are you smiling for?", you snicker angrily, snatching a lighter from Javi's back pocket. Your left hand is shaking. With a mix of anger and strength, you probably held your gun. Javi takes the lighter back. The last thing he needs is for you to burn your hand now. "You amuse me", he admits when the cigarette finally catches the heat.

"Don't fuck with me, Pena. I might just pull the same stunt on you", you warn him, now feeling the shaking seep into your whole body. No matter how many times you went through the waves of adrenaline. The aftermath was never pretty. Javi pushes his cigarette against the brick wall and says, "Come here", You don't move, but his hand laces behind your neck, bringing your body closer to his chest. You don't fight it.

Letting the warmth of him envelop you. Your free hand clenches his shirt. It's such a small gesture. Simple one too. But it's all that you need. All it takes is for your body to budge, and you're not shaking anymore. It's like Javi just soaked up all of that bubbling within you in seconds: "Next time you pull a gun at any of them, keep me around", and Javi can hear your muffled laugh against his chest. And he's smiling. Truly smiling with you pressed tightly to his chest.

"The nurse said she'd be transferred soon", Javi nearly jumps at the sound of Steve's voice, which snatches him out of his head. Javi lost track of how many times he had told Steve to go home. Everyone did. Everyone left. Not that many stuck around for the hospital run in general. But Steve didn't budge. He was there. He stuck to very few or none of the comforting words. Connie hadn't even managed to drag him home. A part of Javi wanted to shove Steve out the door, but then again, he was glad that he wasn't alone.

"You know what that means?", Steve speaks up again. Pulling the neatly wrapped-up sandwich from behind his back, "I think it's time you eat just how you were instructed to". Javi glares at him before turning his attention back to the door. The door that leads to the room they were keeping you in: How were you doing? Did your body push through the transfer? Had they checked that you were stable? Double checked? Did triple-check?

"Come on, Javi, you don't want her…", Steve tries again. His voice is gentle and soft, and Javi hates it. His hands banged on the plastic chairs, sending a sharp sound down the empty hallway. "Stop fucking talking, Steve", Javi snarls; now his glare is all for his partner. "Shut up…", though the last words didn't sound even half as convincing. And Steve catches the crack. He catches sight of every tiny piece finally falling apart.

So Steve brings Javi closer into an embrace, and Javi is quick to push back instantly. Steve just doesn't let go. He's keeping Javi in a tight grip until the agent stops the fight; his shoulder's sagging and only the uneven breathing gives him away. "She will pull through", Steve states quickly, trying to keep his own emotions at bay. "You want to know why?", Javi only grips the back of Steve's jacket tighter: "Because she would crawl from hell itself for you. Because she loves you and she hasn't told you yet, and we both know our tiny girl is a farce".

And then he's back in your apartment. And he's walking back to you after using the bathroom when his eyes catch a glimpse of the picture. Multiple. But all of them have the same boy in them. Big eyes. Curly hair. And he's so similar to you. It's almost disturbing. Javi had seriously considered that you had a child there and then, and he knows it is noisy, but he snatches one of the frames as he heads back to the living room.

You're sprawled out like a cat on your sofa. Soft music is playing. Dirty dinner plates are still on the table. You're humming under your breath. Fuck, Javi doesn't remember the last time he heard someone hum, and a part of him wanted to keep that moment just like that. A part of him had shouted at him not to say anything, but… "Who's this?", the words slip past his lips, and your head instantly turns towards him. And he should have listened to his gut because the lazy smile fell from your face and you suddenly looked so small. So fragile.

"Michael", you mutter as you step closer to Javi, taking the frame from his hand, fingers skimming over the image frozen in time, "My brother. The only couple pictures I have left". The frown suggests that it's something that still hunts you. That still aches. "You don't see your family much?", Javi asks as if he can judge, as if he flies back home often or even calls. Yeah, no. Javi avoids home like the plague, and then the said home returns the favor. "Nothing to visit", the sad chuckle that follows your words strikes Javi.

"I'm…", he starts, but you had already turned towards him. "Sorry? You pity me. You're surprised I'm still here? Or maybe you're disappointed?". Javi crosses the distance between you and quickly catches both of your elbows. "No…", his words die down, and you're laughing again, just this time your eyes are full of tears. You sure?", you say bitterly before dropping your hands over your face, salty tears still streaming down the side of your face.

"Y/n… carino…", And Javi doesn't remember the last time he called out to someone in such a soft manner. He doesn't remember the last time his own heart dropped to his heels for someone. And you're crying, and Javi can't stand it. Because you shouldn't be, because instantly he wants to make it better. "Hey, come here; you're not alone. Shh…" And equally as much, Javi almost doesn't know how to comfort you because Javi never does that. It's always others who do the comforting, who splatter encouraging words.

"But I am. I'm so alone", The sob that slips past your lips makes Javi close his eyes for a moment because the shared agony of it rips through his own heart. Javi wraps his arms tighter around you, fingers running through your hair as you wrap yourself around his neck. Holding onto him as if your whole world now depends upon him. If Javi chose to move, you would crumble. Crumble beyond repair. "You have me", he mutters, but then the anxiety of commitment kicks in and he finds himself adding, "And Steve, and Connie", he doesn't mention Carillo. At first, he's not sure why his tongue doesn't twist to say it, but does it matter? It would be for selfish reasons one way or another.

"They killed them", you rasp out in between catching your breath. Javi pushes away the strands of hair that are now stuck to your face because of the tears. "Dad fucked up a deal, so they came to butcher them all in front of my eyes", you continue, looking up at Javi with desperation. Did no one believe you when you told them what happened? Did anyone ever listen? "I hid in the closet and then…", another sob slips past your lips. "I just saw him, purple face, big eyes, they choked…", and you crumble, legs bucking beneath you, but Javi is there with you. Bringing you even closer as he sways from side to side. Your nails are digging into his flesh, but he doesn't care. Whatever he can do to ground you and calm you down, Javi is willing to do it. "I've got you, carino", he mutters, pressing his lips to your temple, trying to keep his composure, to keep strong because now you need him. And he'll crawl out of his own grave if he had to, just to make sure that you are okay.

"Sir", the voice that doesn't fit the memory cuts through his head. "Sir", it rings, and Javi snaps his eyes open. An elderly woman is standing in front of him, her hand braced on his shoulder, as she attempts to wake him. "It's past 3 a.m., and the visiting hours are long over", she starts, and Javi is once again filled with rage. Try, he thinks, you just try to walk me out. "They transformed her into room 337; I can let you in. You can rest there", Javi blinks a couple of times, convinced that he had heard it wrong. It's against the hospital rules, and the confusion on his face tells the lady that he's trying to find a catch for this.

"Is your name by any chance Javi?", she asks right as Javi stands up. How does she know? He had said his name when he handed you to the sea of doctors and nurses. They had marked his name for the blood transfer, but he hadn't seen this woman in any of the rooms. "Miss. Y/L/N had called out for Javi a couple of times", and he has to both keep himself up so he doesn't sink to his knees and stop himself from running down the hallway. Are you awake? Have you been fully conscious? Why were you calling for him? Is it because you hate him? Or do you want him to be there?

"She's stable; however, with a blood loss like that, I'm sure she will be out for a couple of days", the lady says, and Javi only nods. He probably looks like a maniac there. He is barely managing to stay still, trying not to overstep as he constantly slows his pace to match the nurses.

She walks straight through the door, but Javi halts. You're a door away. You're there, and he will get to see you. But can he see you? Will he be able to look at you without hating the whole world? And most importantly, himself? Yet he does, and you are in there. Still pale as a sheet of paper, but it's only the wires and IVs that surround you. Someone had neatly brushed your hair, and it's not an absolute tangled mess like it was in the emergency room. No, it almost looks like you're lying in… Javi closes his eyes.

"You can talk to her. She should be able to hear you. It'll calm her anxiety and give her something to hold onto", the woman either doesn't notice that Javi is slowly losing it or is great at hiding it as she checks over the machines before turning back to him. "Just catch some sleep yourself, son", she says softly, patting his shoulder just like she did in the hallway. "The emergency button is here, but her heartbeat is strong and steady. I doubt you'll need to use it", that soothes some of Javi's worries, but there are so many of them that it almost feels like nothing. Javi keeps standing till the nurse slips out the door, and then he reaches for the chair, pulling it closer to your bed.

"Hey", Javi mutters, his fingers carefully brushing over your hand. There are so many needles and things poking you that he's almost hesitant to do so. So scared of hurting you more. Making it worse than it already is. Javi let his eyes settle on your face, then down to your chest, watching it move up and down. Up and down. Up and down. Steady. He brings your knuckles closer to his lips. There's still blood under your nails, but he doesn't care. "I miss you already", Javi admits, waiting for an answer he knows he won't get. He nestles his head on your legs, takes your hand into his, and just hopes.

#javi pena x reader #javier pena x reader #javi pena x you #javier pena x you #javier pena imagine #narcos imagine #narcos x reader #narcos x you #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you

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ladythot · 1 year

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i so badly NEED mumon content in my life. if it’s possible, can you make a drabble or anything about him? NSFW is very welcome 👀

Mumon katsuragi x F!reader

☇ tw: childhood crushes(fufu), NSFW, fuck at first sight, clothed fingering, no proofread we die like men

☇ word count: 3.1k

☇ been awhile since I wrote an entire fic dedicated to some underrated anime boi. Here's a reddit post about mumon so you get to know how epic he is

Meeting you after a decade was the most crucial part of the day.

Ever since your body was still on the point of nurturing at the age of nine, his days of doubting you no matter what benefit a day would give you much time to nourish would remain solid. No matter the count of years on ages it would take you to burgeon—just your body to his very eyes was nothing more than a precarious shape. It never convinced him once that you're even capable of holding a pocket knife to your best defense, nor did it assure him you are very well capable of fetching a healthy body anytime soon. That's the elder mumon you knew from your early years of hankering eagerly after him and katsumi's knack for a natural talent in which you didn't understand.

You were persistent to your own self—where punching the wall and bruising your skin became your regular base on challenging his prudence about you. Katsumi was on the same page as his brother about your case but he was much much more careful with his words and actions. In your best consideration he was your favorite. Much like the people you hung out with the most, his older brother mumon wasn't one. He was always out of your sight until you try to look for him despite how much you hated his raw insults, you still consider him a good friend—he's as good as an inspiration to your ambition anyway.

"Don't try to look for me any longer." Were the words that held an empty hope to your heart. It didn't matter how young you were to realize he wasn't capering at your assumptions about him leaving literally but you had hoped he was. He stood high on top of an old rattletrap where two of you would prattle and share everything that had happened in your day. But right then, he was merely standing on top of a memory filled clunker that was enough to remind him everything you two had given each other. He looked down, his eyes glinting sincerity that also flickered with sorrow—his hands tucked at his hoodie pockets.

"I'm fleeing." He says with sole resolveness. Narrowing his eyes a bit when he saw you scrunch at your gritting teeth—"what..what about katsumi..?" Your timid voice breaks "Don't you care about him?" Furrowing your brows, you slowly balled your hands into tightening fists while you looked at him with the same fierce look you give him when he'd make fun of your weak physique.

He shakes his head, squatting carefully on top of the rattletrap. His eyes heaving into a soft gaze as he looks down at you with a faint smile.

"There's a man waiting to take him in. What's there for me to look after?" He says this with a soft chuckle followed by a wider smile. This didn't help with your temper and you knew better than what lies ahead of his excuse. You narrowed your eyes at him that's about close to tearing up from being upset—he notices this and hops down with ease, now standing before you.

"I figured…." He gently places his hand on your head "it's best if I leave." Your fierce gaze hefted into a softer look once you paid attention to how he handles this. Rubbing your head he continued while he played with your hair.

"I..made a grave mistake, never had I thought of running away from my own problems until now because of how heavy it was for me…" he eyes you with the softest look you've ever seen from him. The way he was behaving towards you made you open your eyes at his situation. "..Y/n" your eyes widen when he calls out to you.

"Do me a favor and don't tell a soul. Treat it as if I never existed nor am I worth being in anyone's memory about my flee."

His face had a hint of sorrow engraved in but his hand at the side of your cheek was tender and lively. He caresses it in a way you'll have to remember it as your last contact with him—you placed your hand on top of his, softening your look. He smiles at this, pinching your cheek suddenly.

"Well, I dunno if we'll meet again in the near future…" He chuckled silently, pulling your cheek just about an inch. He seems to be enjoying his contact with your skin since he never thought about how delicate your skin really was other than him taking it in a feeble way.

"But if we did, make sure you kept your promise to me." He says before pulling you into a tight hug then burying his face into your hair, whiffing it as if he'll be keeping it as a mere collection of you. This made him feel nothing like any of the times he felt desperate for something, the body that he had always considered weak was stronger than his need at the moment as you pressed up against him. He couldn't let go just yet, not until he's ready to live a day without seeing you again. If running away with you was an option he'll gladly do so but that was just a mere idea to him.

He stayed nestled against you until one of your playmates came to your concern as it was getting late. Mumon pulls away with a smile, kissing your forehead before he quickly elopes, one last bye-bye and he disappears. You could almost see tears beading in his eyes but you don't blame him, you came to understand the hidden fact he actually had no one else he considers a true 'friend' other than you.

A decade has passed since your last encounter—you both were all grown up to the point of glowing up. Your entire presence had changed into a well nourished one under Katsumi's care and you were more than the lady he deemed 'defenseless' once. He's quite proud of himself to be at your service if it wasn't for his adoptive father giving you a chance to shoot your shot and he wasn't wrong about your burgeoning. You agree to that when you look at the mirror with glee next to a baby picture of you. Whenever you look at it, it makes your doubts about reality And judgment back then subside, you did look awfully weak. And this drifts your mind back to one person that spoke the truth; mumon.

You wondered how he was and where he is, what does he look like now, has he forgotten about you? These were the first questions that would always pop at your slightest bit of recollection about him and you would always end up shrugging it all off.

Mumon had considered himself dead to all the places he flew from since the past years. He didn't care what anyone thought about him anymore as long as you kept your promise to him. He never considered showing up to you again out of pure hesitation—from the looks of his situation you'll probably think he became a bad guy and he's aware of it.

That was until he heard a certain voice in the midst of a festive herd, distinctive yet unclear, but just about enough to piece out an original part from his childhood. And even the name it was calling out to was someone he definitely knew.

"Katsumi!! Katsumi!!"

The tone-the melody and the pitch, seemed all too familiar. He was certain—no, he was right. His eyes finally had the opportunity to envelope your form into his thinking as soon as the crowd gave some space and he couldn't help but let his incredulity get the best out of it.

"Improbable…." He mutters to himself. Hunching his back a little until he was at the level of your height from afar then narrowing his eyes at your form. He gives himself some time to register your figure in a theory he made a mental image of, but more clearly he was just being pessimistic of all things he could possibly make of you. He straightens up, his lips curving into a smile before walking towards the crowd.

"Katsumi..where are you…" your eyes frantically moved from one place to another, you could feel heaps of anxiety shiver down your spine when the crowd tightens with more people at your dismay. You tried walking to a nearby free space when a hand suddenly taps at your shoulder and immediately you turn around.

"You look quite troubled, dear lady" his tone was nothing threatening but gentle. His hat blocking half his face that made it seem impossible to recognize who he is. "May I help..?" He smiles, offering his hand before chuckling a little. You looked at his figure up and down before completely turning to him with a puzzled expression. It seems unknown to you why someone in a tight crowd would help especially with the kind of attire he had.

"No..i-i'm good..thank you.." You bow your head to him before turning your back at him, you could hear him chuckling to himself as you started to walk towards the only free space. He pulls his hat back, his hair dropping to his shoulder length as he smiles. "Y/n L/n." You immediately stopped. Turning back once again only to be met with the one who ushered you to make a promise in favor. Your eyes widened at this, you could tell just how much he's changed since the past decade but he still kept the natural feminine touch.

"Did you keep your promise?"

He closes the gap between the two of you as you remain stilt in front of him. He was tall, and you fail to reckon the last time he walked this close. His body was more slim than katsumi but you could almost see his muscles, enough to tell you what he's all capable of. He scans you up and down, his smile never left when he finds how amusing you looked at him. He laughs, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"It's getting pretty tight here, let's talk somewhere else." The way he looked at you was like the first time he gave you the softest look he could never let you see back then, and you could tell he's still the same person he used to be despite how much he did to change himself. "Katsumi can wait later." He assures you before walking away outside the crowd as you follow right after. Silence prevailed until the sound of people subside in peace as he takes you to a place where cherry trees are present, along with the moon shining down at the nearby river.

He had gathered as many questions he can when he meets you but right now, only one thing concerns him. An idea he's been thinking of since you both were away from each other and what possibility it had on his long journey.

"So…" You turn your head to him. He looks ahead, quite nervous yet curious. "You two…together..?" He smiles to mask the sheer brittle of anxiousness he has while he waits for an answer. The only girl he was really planning to hit on was you, nobody else and if this turns out to be a yes he isn't sure what to make of it.

"Huh..?" He looks down at the ground, appearing nervous but he keeps a cool facade.

"You and katsumi..I mean." His hat hid his expression and you couldn't really make out what he meant and why he'd even ask a question like this that's far to be concerned about.

"No..w-why?" Your eyes would lay on his face as soon as he threw his head back to stare up at the night sky in relief, smiling as he looked down at you. "That's great, thought I wouldn't have a chance with you after all these years without me by your side." "Wha-" before you could say anything else he'd pin you under a cherry tree with a thud from his hand. All you could really do is stay stiff against him as he kissed you, both of your hands pinned against the rough branch while he eagerly bit at your soft lip. Your eyes would flutter close as the kiss would gradually turn into a slow one, just enough to match your pace.

He pulls away with a faint smirk as he pants. You could see how long he's been yearning for something like this, by the way he acted, you couldn't deny how much he missed you even if he flew as a 'friend' and nothing else more than that. Despite this taking a turn on your expectations, you were not complaining.

"Did I scare you there?" His smile widened as he kept his hands on both of your wrists. His voice was light and gentle, hearing it made you melt. When he leans into your neck, you slowly look up at the moon behind him while he whiffs out your scent—his knees weaken. He closes his eyes, taking one more whiff at your scent before placing his thumb on your chin with a satiated look.

"Mumon.." You huffed out with your cheeks beating red as you stared up at him. The moon behind him illuminating everything he had caused you to make this expression out of him—he smiles at this, leaning in for another kiss. The way you said his name didn't help with his urges. His tongue would skillfully roll above and under yours in your mouth while you gasp between kisses, and at your most effort you couldn't really meet with his tongue's pace. All of this was sending you into a pleasurable daze, something you wish two of you had done sooner if that was possible.

He pulls away with a heavy gaze, as if he's lost himself between your moist lips. He gives you a faint smile before laughing quietly. "You look adorable right now, I can't believe it…." His eyes traveled down at your chest—down to your hips, then back to your bashful face. He takes the view all in as he burns the image in his head.

"I should teach you how to kiss.." He chuckled before diving in for another make out. This time, more tongue. You'd moan at this, quivering from the bump of his knee between your legs as he started rubbing it sensually against you—he makes sure he's kneeing rightfully at your clothed weak spot as you moan into the kiss, making him lap and suck at your tongue with a determined face to pleasure you and make you haunt for more once he leaves again for maybe another year. Once he gets bored with the padding of his knee, he would slide a hand down to your thigh as he hoists the hem of your dress over your waist—squeezing the side of your thigh before dragging it upwards your clothed wet clit. He pulls away only an inch to your face, his forehead resting against yours as he smirks. You could feel his hot breath fanning at your delicate skin when he spoke in a low husked voice.

He'd cruelly fondle two fingers at your clothed wet slit, watching every bit of your reaction intently while he holds both of your hands just above your head—making you completely meek and vulnerable at his touch. You look away, biting your lip with your cheeks completely red and wet with sweat. Your thighs would squish themselves together against the hand that was pleasuring you and it made him smile with glee.

"So delicate- like a cute damn doll…" he pinches your clit—making you cry out as you threw your head back against the tree with a thud along with a loud stifled moan. He grins, he doesn't let any of your reaction slip away out of his sight now that you came. He has to eat up all of this, he needs it.

"You came already? That's cute." He chuckles as he watches you pant before him. His hand still working on you to get down your high and once you're finished, he'll slowly take it out and hold two fingers close to your lips. You were still in a daze but you could clearly see how wet you were at the evidence before you—you let out a small moan when he gently slides it down your mouth as you tasted yourself at his fingers, soon followed by him sucking at your tongue once again before he pulls away with a trail that consists of your juice and saliva.

"Good girl…" The sound of his voice was enough to get you weak at the front of your knees. You stare at him, almost as if you didn't want him to leave anymore. You purse your lips that were still glossing from the previous act and he watches intently. Before you could even say anything you could hear katsumi shouting your name from the distance, the tree mumon picked hid you both very well so you took your time to recover quickly before katsumi finds you.

"Aww I'm disappointed" he laughed as he freed your wrists with care. Smiling down at you, "let's meet each other again, not for another decade though.." Your eyes lit up from this as you watched him rub the back of his head.

"Now don't let them see you like this-" He fixes your dress, tidying you up which made you widen your eyes along with a flustered touch at your expression. You could see him blushing a bit when he sees the handprints he left behind your supple skin and the trail of hickeys at your neck, it made him feel content even if he didn't really get to do more—the experience was enough to cover his yearning. Your body still quivered lightly and he noticed this and a feeling of pure joy washed over him. Maybe it was a bit too much pleasure but he was glad to serve you that much, maybe enough to crave for more.

"Mumon..come back..safe?" Your tone of voice was quiet and your breath was still shaky but he nodded at your question nonetheless.

"Yeah, I'll do. Far as I know we're gonna do more than this when we meet again and I can't pass up that opportunity" he joked. His smile curving into a wide one as he places his hands on your shoulders. "I'm sorry I rushed it..I just had to.." A faint blush grew on his face out of shame. He could've really talked you out to get you in the mood but he chose to rush. He sighs When he hears another round of katsumi shouting your name like you're a missing child—he then kissed your forehead just like back then when he was about to flee.

"See ya 'round, babs"

#couldn't get enough #katsuragi mumon #katsuragi mumon x reader #baki #baki imagines #baki dou #baki the grappler x reader #baki smut #you asked for a drabble I delivered a fic #if that doesn't tell you anything about my obsession I'm safe #mumon katsuragi

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kasuumi · 8 months

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The Curse of being a Gojo and the Blessing of Death

summary: losing the will to live and accepting death as Gojo's sister

genre: angst, no happy ending

words: 1k

Being a Gojo was an absolute curse, and even worse was that I was born a woman. Eventually, you get used to the neglect, the hurtful words they strike you with all because you're his weaker sister.

Adding more to this sob story, the higher ups absolutely despised me and if it wasn't for my cursed energy, they would have done what they did best. Eliminating those they fear because they know they can't handle power.

All I've ever wanted was to feel like I belonged somewhere. Where someone could just, understand how I feel and appreciate the things I do. A group of people to laugh and spend time with.

"Why did I have to be his sister" is all that ever comes into my head. I try to hate my brother, but how could I hate the person almost everybody loves and cherishes so much. I just wish we could be like family instead of being rivals I never wanted us to become.

After all that's happened in my life including the event here in Shibuya, maybe I can actually be worth something for the community for once.

Maybe I can finally give up my dream of creating a stronger connection with my older brother.

Give up on the dream that I could live happily among them

Letting go of the thought that they'll accept me as a woman.

Laying on the floor right now, it's pretty cold. Never been colder in my life before even after experiencing all their stares. Can't feel my legs, they're heavy, too heavy. And my fingers don't move too. Am I dying?

But why does it feel so... calming. I've always thought was death was a terrifying experience.

No one in my life ever cared expect for Fushiguro-san. He knew I was capable of being strong and even said that he wanted to duel when I was on level with him. He said I could do it, which implied that he believed in what I could do. Tears were always brought to the back of my eyes. He cared for me.

I could only talk to him a few times, and it would always be in the most discreet places where I could come across him. But despite only having a few conversations with him, I treated him like a friend, a brother, and even like a grumpy dad.

I laugh at the thought of him driving me to school, which would never happen. But does it really matter what I think right now? The blood is leaving my body really fast, and Toji isn't here anymore. The only person who ever cared and appreciated my existence.

My brother's sealed in a box, and I couldn't help at all. He'll probably hate me so much when he gets out. No, he will hate me. Give me that stare that I fear everytime. His voice cold unlike his usual tone to everyone else. Why does brother hate me so much.

No one's around, last person I saw was Shoko, right before I left where her and Yaga-sensei were located. I wasn't even informed of the disaster but now I'm a victim of it. I guess this was the biggest blessing of my whole life.

Yaga-sensei removed the collar suppressing my cursed energy and told me I wouldn't need it when I get there. These moments only happen when I'm out on a mission to kill curses of higher grades. Always being accompanied by someone who has the ability to unlock my collar, like I'm some kind of dog.

The lights are getting brighter, what's taking so long. Why can't I just die already, it's hurting so much. I cry at the pain, I never wanted pain, no one does.

"GOJO-SAN!!" a voice yells in the distance.

Oh, it's that strawberry haired boy, with tiger stripes.

They've always refrained me from meeting him, probably cause he's got the soul of an angel. They didn't want me forming good connections with everyone fearing I'll get too comfortable and possibly overcome and be stronger than my brother which doesn't make sense at all.

I've only ever caught a few glimpses of him, he's hella cute, and his iconic red hoodie specially designed just for him that makes him stand out. I'm thinking a lot right now, I guess this is what happens when you die slowly and try to relieve the pain by having your mind busy with thoughts.

"Gojo-san, what happened?! I'm bringing you to Shoko-san right now, stay with me!" Yuji says as he picks my body up carefully, securing my limbs in place before he sprints to where we're heading.

"Thank you yuji, for caring. It feels really nice, to receive your kindness. You're a good kid" I tell him, my voice hoarse and light.

I don't even think he heard it, but I can't deal with the pain anymore. Almost like, I can't feel anything too. Can't hear his heavy breathing hoping to get me there on time, the wind rushing by us, the sound his feet make when it comes into contact with the ground.

"Gojo-san?..." Yuji slows down

Gojo Y/N sleeps eternally, in the hands of a boy who holds a curse within him

Gojo Y/N is finally at peace, after being neglected all her life

They lay in in Yuji's arms, a soft smile displayed on their lips with their eyes closed.

#jujutsu kaisen angst #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #yuji itadori #gojo angst #jjk angst #shibuya arc #gojo!reader #can someone make a fic out of this shit post please

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ninetailedfoxmanchi · 1 year

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Mafia! BTS - You're Pregnant and You Don't Want to Keep the Baby

Warnings: mention and discussion of abortion and menstruation, mostly fluff tho

A/N: I've been sick these past couple of days so I re-read some of my old fics. I left off the BTS series on more of a family note but I thought I'd like to write the alternative reaction too. I had no idea I'd be writing this or anything at all but it sort of hit me out of the blue. I hope you like this fic and feel free to send in some requests (no promises, as always). Also, apologies in advance because I didn't proof read.

NEW MASTERLIST

* * *

Jin

You were sitting on the edge of the bathtub, a positive pregnancy test in your hand. You were biting your lip, your chest heavy with anxiety and fear. Lost in thought and emotion, you had no idea how long you had been sitting there contemplating your decisions when suddenly Jin appeared in the bathroom doorway.

"Y/N, what's-" he began yet lost his words when he saw the pregnancy test at your feet. You were playing with your fingers, biting your lip without even raising your gaze to him.

"Are you pregnant?" asked Jin quietly as he knelt down before you and took your hands in his.

"I think so," you whispered as you nodded your head. "But..." you spoke although you did not know what to say or how to say it. “I don’t think I’m ready… I’ve been thinking… I don’t think I’ll ever be.”

"Ever be what, princess?"

"Ready to be a mom," you confessed. The words felt sour on your tongue. You've always been taught to want to be a mother but deep down you never felt the instinct yourself. Becoming a parent felt like a notion forced upon you and whilst you admired women capable of motherhood, you simply never saw yourself in that role.

You confessed all of that to Jin. He held your hand in both of his, his thumbs caressing the back of your palms as he listened to you.

"Alright," agreed Jin once you had finished. "I understand, princess." He kissed your forehead and caressed your cheek. "I would never force you to do anything you were uncomfortable with. You're my everything."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you heard Jin's warm, gentle voice. You nodded to yourself and could not help but start to cry.

"Oh, princess, it's going to be okay," said Jin and pulled you in his arms. You wrapped your hands around his neck and buried your nose in the nook of his collarbone.

"Are you sure you're not upset?" you asked.

"I told you," he said, pulling away to look you in the eye. "You're the most important thing in the world to me, princess. I want whatever you want," spoke Jin softly and brushed away the tears from your cheeks.

Namjoon

You visited your personal doctor having been under the weather for more than a week. You couldn't keep anything down, not even your favourite foods, you had to pee what seemed to be every five minutes and you were feeling sore all over your body. Namjoon wanted you to see a doctor days ago but you were avoiding going to a hospital. However, you made a deal that if you wouldn't feel better by the end of the week, you would go and here you were.

"It's probably nothing, let's just go home," you said fidgeting your knee as you squeezed on Namjoon's hand that was resting in your lap.

"We're not going anywhere, love," assured Namjoon, "Let's just wait for the results of your bloodwork and then I'll take you home." He kissed your temple as you leaned onto him. You were as pale as a ghost but then again you haven't been feeling like yourself for the past fortnight.

"Ms Y/N?" called the nurse. You and Namjoon both stood up.

"Your test results are back," said the nurse, a strange shimmer in her eye. "Congratiulations, you're going to be parents," she announced.

It can't be. I can't be.

Like the flip of a switch your head swirled with sickness. You tried to catch yourself by Namjoon's arm when suddenly you hit the ground and your vision went dark.

* *

You woke just moments later, lying on a gurney. A soft groan escaped your lips as you reached for your head and rubbed your eyes. The neon white lights blinded you before you blinked and regained your vision.

"Y/N? Y/N, can you hear me?" asked Namjoon, his voice deep with concern yet he tried to sound calm and collected.

"Joon?" you mumbled as you struggled to sit up.

"Hey, hey, it's alright, slowly," murmured your boyfriend as he helped you up. He brushed the hair from your face and kissed your forehead.

"I was so worried," he whispered against your skin.

"Is it... Is it true? Am I pregnant?" you asked grievously as your eyes filled with tears.

"The blood results say so, yes," confirmed Namjoon. He was still cupping your cheeks, caressing you with his thumbs. "You don't seem too thrilled about this news."

“I’m just..." you began but your voice cracked. "I'm just not ready yet, Namjoon. It's too soon.” Your boyfriend studied you a minute.

"Did you know about this? Is this why you didn't want to go and see the doctor?" asked Namjoon, his voice calm and quiet yet laced with sadness.

"I... I don't how... I suspected it, I mean... My period was late but that could be because of the sickness, I just... I don't know," you mumbled, wiping the tears from your eyes but they kept on falling. "I know you want a family, Namjoon. But I'm not ready yet, I just can't-"

"Hey, shh, it's okay... It's okay, my love," spoke Namjoon and pulled you into his arms. "It doesn't matter what I want, princess. If you don't want this, than neither do I, I promise you."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course, I'm sure. Whatever you decide to do, I'll always be here for you, okay, love?" spoke Namjoon as he kissed the top of your head.

Yoongi

You were lying in bed with Yoongi on a lazy weekend morning. He was playing with your fingers and tracing sunlight marks across your arms. You had trouble sleeping all night, tossing and turning, feeling too hot then too cold, feeling anxious and sick and then finally you were able to fall asleep near morning. But that singular moment of being held by your boyfriend, of sunshine pouring into your bedroom relieved you of all tension.

That is until a nasty hot washed over your body and settled in your abdomen. Suddenly, you burst out of bed, starling both yourself and your boyfriend but you had no time for explanation. You burst into the bathroom and knelt before the toilet, vomiting like crazy.

Yoongi burst in after you and pulled your hair back, his free hand gently rubbing your back. You flushed the toilet, thinking you were done when suddenly another wave of nausea washed over your stomach.

"Jagi, what's going on?" asked Yoongi when you were finally able to lean against the side of the bath.

"I don't know," you mumbled as you shook your head but the same moment those words escaped your lips, your eyes opened and widened.

"What?" asked Yoongi.

"Nothing," you said quickly but he was not fooled.

"Tell me," he insisted and scooted closer to you where he pushed your hair behind your ear. You looked up into his eyes, studying him as you considered confiding in him or not. But if your suspicions provided to be true, then you would have to talk to Yoongi anyways.

"What... What if I'm pregnant?" you asked in a mere whisper.

Yoongi froze as if someone had just poured a bucket of ice-cold water over his head. His eyes drained of emotion.

"I don't think..." you began as you shook your head. "I don't think I'm ready, Yoongi... I don't... I don't think I'll ever be ready," you confessed. “I like the way things are. Just the two of us,” you whispered guiltily as quiet tears fell down your cheeks. Something about saying those words felt both like relief and condemnation at the same time.

"So do I," said Yoongi and brushed away the tears from your face. You looked up at him once again, wanting to see if he was truthful or just saying that to comfort you. But it wasn't in Yoongi's nature to lie and neither did he do so in that moment.

"But what if I am pregnant?" you asked.

"Then we'll go and see your doctor," said Yoongi calmly as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. He kept his warm hands on your cheeks, brushing away your tears.

"Please don't cry, kitten," he whispered, his eyes locked with yours. His heart was breaking seeing you this harsh on yourself, on something that happened by mere chance. "I'll take care of you, Y/N. Whatever you decide to do," promised Yoongi and pulled you into his arms where you locked your hands around his torso and leaned against his chest.

Hoseok

You were pacing up and down the waiting room, nervous for the result of your blood test. It has been more than five weeks since your last menstruation and you've been feeling far too sick for it to be normal - not only in the mornings but all the time. You couldn't sleep and you were sore all over. Although you did not want it to be true, you were not surprised when the pregnancy test was positive. Still, convenience store pregnancy tests were not entirely reliable so you had to see your doctor before you would even mention something to your boyfriend. You could not even imagine how this happened since you were always using protection.

"Ms Y/N?" asked the nurse as she stepped out into the hallway. She invited you back into the doctor's office where you sat down with your gynaecologist.

"We've ran the tests several time, Ms Y/N, but I'm afraid they always came back positive," said your doctor sympathetically. You told her of your concerns before the tests were made and could not do much else but nod. She told you about your options, about continuing the pregnancy and even adoption but those were not really options for you personally. Even when you saw the convenience store pregnancy test come out positive, you already knew you wouldn't go through with it should it be confirmed by your doctor as well.

"Right," you nodded but your voice was hoarse as if you had been crying. You did not think so yet when you touched your cheek you realized it was stained with tears.

You apologized quickly and took out a tissue but the doctor seemed to perfectly understand.

"Then... Would you like to make an appointment to terminate the pregnancy?" asked your gynaecologist. "I must inform you that you will need someone to escort you home after the procedure; your mom, a friend, your partner..."

That made you think of how you were going to tell Hoseok. Whether he would even want to come with you in the first place.

You nodded and discussed the procedure with your doctor but as you arrived home, your head was spinning from all the information. Your chest was heavy with anxiety and your head hurt. But as you opened the bathroom door, you found Hoseok with your positive pregnancy test in his hands. You froze on your tracks, your eyes widening as his gaze found your own.

"Are you... Are you pregnant?" asked Hoseok in disbelief.

"I just got it confirmed by my doctor," you nodded, your voice falling silent.

"What are you going to do?" asked Hoseok out of breath.

You shook your head as tears crept into your eyes. You couldn't understand why you were crying out of the sudden but you were. Perhaps it was the pressure, the anxiety, the hormones or all at once, yet suddenly you found yourself crying against Hoseok's chest. He sat you up on the bathroom counter and ran his fingers through your hair.

"It's okay, shh, it's okay, my princess," spoke Hoseok softly as he tried to calm you down.

"I'm not... I'm not going to keep it, Hobi," you sobbed quietly. "A-Are you angry with me?"

"What?" said Hoseok as he pulled away, holding your shoulders. "Why would I be angry with you, Y/N? It's your body and it's a big decision. Whatever you want to do, is alright with me, do you hear me?" he asked, looking you deep in the eye. Hoseok brushed the tears from your cheeks as you proceeded to tell him about your appointment.

"They said I need someone to help me home afterwards," you spoke slowly.

"You know I'm coming with you, Y/N," assured Hoseok. "If you like it or not, I'll be there. Always, okay?"

You nodded as more tears fell down your cheeks and you wrapped your arms around Hoseok's neck. "Thank you," you whispered.

Jimin

"Jimin?" you began slowly as you found your boyfriend sitting on the sofa, his gaze firmly on his favourite tv series. But once he heard your voice, his eyes found you and softened immediately. Jimin opened his arms for you and you gladly accepted, snuggling into his chest as your legs rested in his lap. But your chest was heavy with concern and anxiety. You weren't feeling like yourself these past days so you went to your doctor for a check-up. Yet then the results of your bloodwork came back, the doctor informed you that you were pregnant. You had never imagined this to happen and it was beyond you to even try to calculate when or how this happened. But the bloodwork was run several times and there was no doubt that you were pregnant.

You have never even talked to Jimin about whether he wants a family or not, you've barely even thought about whether you want one. But during the past few days that was all you could possibly think about. The more you contemplated it, the more you realized you did not want to continue this pregnancy. There were times in your life when you thought you wanted to have a family at some point but now that you were actually in this moment of decision, you could not possibly imagine raising a baby and starting a family. Perhaps it was too soon, perhaps you did not wish for a family at all. For now, Jimin was all you wanted and could ever need.

"Sweetheart?" asked Jimin, "Y/N? Are you okay?" he spoke once again, waking you up from your thoughts. Jimin pulled back slightly and looked you in the eye. You blinked and nodded your head.

"Yeah, no, I'm, I'm okay," you stuttered although even you did not believe your own words.

"What is it, sweetheart? Tell me," asked Jimin gently and caressed your cheek.

You licked your dry lips and glanced away.

"You trust me, don't you?" said Jimin and raised your chin to face him.

You bit the corner of your lip as you sat up on your own and felt yourself fidget unconsciously.

"I... Um..." you began but you seemed to have forgotten all the words. "I, um... I have to tell you something, Jimin," you said carefully and pushed the hair from your eyes. You were twitching your leg nervously against the sofa but did not know how to stop it.

"What is it? Tell me," insisted Jimin and took your hand, "Are you sick?"

"I'm pregnant," you blurted out. Instead of your chest releasing the anxiety it only grew larger and heavier, weighing you down. Your eyes watered with tears.

"Wh... You're... You're pregnant?" stuttered Jimin, his eyes wide and puzzled like a child's.

"But I... I don't want to keep it. I won't keep it," you mumbled distressed. "I just can't. I don't want to be a mom, Jimin," you hurried as big fat tears fell from your eyes. Jimin watched you as you spoke those words before he took your face into his hands.

"Whatever you decide to do, Y/N, I'll support you," he assured.

"You will?" you whispered timidly, looking up into his big brown eyes.

"What kind of question is that? Of course I will," he assured and pulled you close as he kissed your forehead.

"I'm sorry," you said, feeling guilty as hot tears wet Jimin's shirt. "I'm just really scared," you confessed.

"Hey, there's nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart, okay? Nothing," promised Jimin. "If you don't want to keep it, we can go see your doctor first thing tomorrow, alright?"

"Okay," you nodded against Jimin's chest as he caressed your hair until you calmed down.

Taehyung

You waited in front of the doctor's office for your appointment. It's been the second time that week that you've visited your gynaecologist; the first time because you've missed your period and weren't feeling quite yourself with all the muscle soreness and morning sickness. When your doctor gave you the news that you were pregnant, she could tell by the look on your face it was something you did not want; at least not at this point. She told you your options but to you there was only one - abortion.

"I'm here," said Taehyung out of breath. Your eyes widened as you looked up at his face. You haven't told anyone you were pregnant, least of all your boyfriend who had a soft spot for every baby and toddler in this world.

"Wh... What are you doing here?" you stuttered in absolute horror.

"You don't think I'd let you go through this on your own, my love?" spoke Taehyung softly and caressed your cheek before taking your hands into his lap. His fingers traced comforting shapes in your skin but you were too stunned to notice.

"How did you find out?" you asked dismayed. Taehyung turned to look at you, an utterly foreign expression on his face. His eyes were soft but sad and his features sombre.

"How could you think I wouldn't?" he spoke gently, "They called me since I'm your emergency contact and you didn't arrange for someone to escort you home," explained Taehyung.

"That's... That's why you're here?" you asked slowly.

"I'm here for you, Y/N," said Taehyung and squeezed your hands reassuringly, "And whatever you want."

"I wish you'd told me, though," he added.

"I thought you'd want to keep it," you spoke quickly yet quietly.

"I would," confessed Taehyung, "But it's your body and I would never force you to do something you weren't ready to do, Y/N." He tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear before he pressed his lips softly to your forehead.

Your eyes watered. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you, Tae," you admitted. As you spoke those words, your doctor appeared in the doorway and invited you inside.

"It's alright, my love," spoke Taehyung comfortingly and kissed your hand. "I'll be right here when you wake up and I'll take you home, alright?"

You nodded and wiped the tears from you eyes. "Thank you," you murmured and hugged him before you went with your doctor.

Jungkook

You were pacing up and down your bathroom, staring at the timer on your phone. You had taken a pregnancy test because your period was unusually late. Although there was no guarantee it was going to be positive, you had a feeling about it. It's been on your mind for days and so was the decision of what to do if you were indeed pregnant. You had no idea what Jungkook's stand was on it but it was your body at the end of the day and you had no intention of starting a family yet. Perhaps one day in the future but doing so now would be a mistake.

Your phone began buzzing just before the test showed you were pregnant.

"What's going on?" asked a deep voice. You gasped and jumped around, startled by Jungkook's presence. He wasn't supposed to be home for hours and you had hoped you had more time to consider what to say to him, how to tell him the news and your decision.

"Is that..." began Jungkook as he noticed the blue-white stick in your hands.

"I..." you stuttered.

"Are you pregnant, Y/N?" asked Jungkook in disbelief as his gaze found yours. His eyes were wide and his lips parted.

"I... I think so," you admitted and showed your boyfriend the pregnancy test. Your hands were shaking from all the emotion. You did not know what to feel. Jungkook frowned.

"Are you scared of me, kitten?" he asked carefully, his voice deep and husky.

"N-No," you said and shook your head. "I... I don't know..." You bit the inside of your cheek, fidgeting with your hands.

"Y/N..." breathed Jungkook as he reached out for you and pulled you to his chest. You leaned your head against his torso as he caressed your hair and you finally let out all the emotion. Tears stained Jungkook's shirt.

"I... I'm really scared, Jungkook," you sobbed quietly. "I... I don't w-want to be p-pregnant," you confessed, your entire body trembling.

"Shh, it's okay, kitten, it's okay," spoke Jungkook against the top of your head where he left soft, comforting kisses. "Everything will be alright, I promise."

"Hey," said Jungkook as you began crying even harder. He cupped your cheeks and made you look at him whilst he brushed away your tears. "We'll see your doctor so that they can confirm you're really pregnant. And if you are, then we'll make an appointment to do whatever you decide to do, alright? Everything will be okay," promised Jungkook once again.

You nodded and hugged him tightly. "Are you not angry with me?" you stuttered.

"Why would I be angry with you, princess?" asked Jungkook astonished.

"Because... Because this even h-happened or I... I don't know..." you whispered as more tears stained your boyfriend's shirt.

"This isn't your fault, kitten. It just happens sometimes," spoke Jungkook quietly as he kissed your forehead.

"And... And you're not angry because I want to end it?" you asked once again.

"I want whatever you want, kitten. That's never going to change," murmured Jungkook against your lips before kissing you gently.

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birgittesilverbae · 1 year

Text

training injury

The bare patch of earth near the lakeside has long since been packed firm by their footsteps as they exchanged blows. Ava's arms are shaking with the weight of the sword, usually so light it felt almost an extension of her body, now rendered heavy and unyielding by the near-depletion of the Halo's energy.

She raises the blade to parry Beatrice's next blow, turns the staff aside with a practiced flick of her wrists. Beatrice eyes her thoughtfully, then steps back, opening space between them.

"Again," she commands, and Ava is powerless to do anything but obey.

They dance back and forth, blade ringing against staff, quiet grunts and exhalations. Ava's face drips with sweat. She adjusts her grip to free a hand, keeps the sword in that motion of strike-block-parry even as she tugs the hem of her tee from her pants and lifts the fabric to scrub at one half of her face.

One eye open, she shifts onto the attack, sword darting forward. She doesn't meet the anticipated resistance, no haft swinging around to repel her strike.

Her blade strikes out, and Beatrice blows a sharp breath through her teeth, and-

Oh, that's blood. That's so much blood. Oh no, oh fuck.

Beatrice is infuriatingly calm as she sinks to the ground. Ava drops to her knees beside her, hands darting about frantically, uselessly.

"Hospital, we need to get you to the hospital. Do the Swiss do 911? Is there even a hospital near here? Why didn't we check if there was a hospital nearby?"

"Ava, breathe. Can you go grab the backpack for me, please?"

"Ten-four, over and out, up and at 'em." Ava pushes upright, stumbles backwards towards the bag, reaches blindly for it, not daring to take her eyes off Beatrice.

She pulls her sweater out and presses it into Beatrice's hands. "For the blood," she says lamely.

"This is your favourite sweater."

"Favourite sweater for my favourite person."

"Hey Ava, look at me. This is superficial-"

"I cut you, that's not superficial."

"This is hardly the first time I've been injured during live training."

"That makes it worse. You see how that makes it worse, right?"

"The first aid kit, Ava, please."

Ava scrambles to retrieve it from the backpack, then slows to hand it ever so gently to Beatrice. Beatrice flips it open one-handed, keeping pressure on the wound with another, and digs out antiseptic and-

"Are those needle drivers?" She's not sure why she asks; she's seen enough Grey's Anatomy, watched illicitly in the dark of night with her last roommate before Diego, to know that's the case. "What are you- Oh, Bea, no. Don't give yourself stitches. No, Bea."

The corner of Beatrice's mouth ticks upwards. "Yes, Bea."

"At least let me give you a hand."

"I'm perfectly capable of doing it on my own."

Ava's laugh verges on hysterical. "Suit yourself, as it were."

It takes Beatrice a moment to parse, and then she's grinning fully, even as her face goes pale. "That was awful."

#warrior nun #ava x beatrice #avatrice #mywn #if you think I wrote this for one (1) shitty line you're absolutely correct #myfic

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bamdelune · 11 months

Text

In Hindsight 📹 Ch. 09: "ping pong"

You feel a tap on your shoulder just as you claimed your change from the student who was running the stand you were buying from just now. You turn your back to see Kuni awkwardly standing behind you, stiffly waving — you look behind him and see who you assumed to be his friends. One was face palming, one was trying to stifle a giggle, another was calmly observing and the last was probably cheering behind Kunikuzushi.

"Kuni! I didn't know you went to stuff like this?" You greet with a smile, holding your snack and phone in one hand while the other rested on your hip.

He scratches his purple locks, "Yeah, I was kinda dragged here but I guess it's a nice change. Oh yeah— um, my friends were wondering if you wanted to join us explore the fair. I believe the twins are running a few things as committee members and Xinyan is kind of busy."

His words would've been drowned out by the crowd's chatter if you weren't standing so close to him. "Woah, you actually know my friends' schedules by heart." You joke, patting his shoulder as if to tell him good job.

"Actually, yeah. It's kinda boring not hanging out with anyone," you pout slightly. "Are you sure you don't mind me coming along? I don't wanna intrude on anything."

Kuni's face shifts and shakes his head no, chuckling awkwardly. "It's fine. After all, they were the ones who quite forcefully asked me to invite you. Those losers behind me? Yeah. That's them."

You peer behind him once more to see 4 people conversing (you think, maybe they were trying to act natural which you laugh at their attempts).

"Auhm... sure! I just have to leave you guys for a bit before 8pm since I have to assist something for the concert." You say, walking to their table.

Everyone exchanges greetings and introductions, Ajax and Venti send a few weird smug looks between you and Kuni but you assume it's just in their personalities. You swoon for sometime over meeting Venti in person, you've heard of him a few times in the industry and frankly, his songs were addicting. You spend the rest of the day playing the game booths with them. At some point, you receive Kunikuzushi's prize from the ping pong cup game ran by Hu Tao and Yanfei from the Humanities department — it was a medium-sized penguin plush that seized your heart the moment you laid your eyes on it.

When 7:50 pm strikes, you say your rushed goodbyes to the group and make your way to the backstage of the venue. It was time to do your role for the fair's concert. Your excuse from earlier was a cover for your actual job for tonight:

...which was to perform in front of the university for the first time ever as a performing artist.

synopsis. You are a singer-songwriter. Music has always been a part of you, it's a part of your identity that no one can ever take away. However, there's always a catch: you are diagnosed with a chronic illness that puts your life on a timer. Those who have heard your countless melodies have grown to notice that the notes on the sheet played a gloomier tune. Would the snarky and capable medical student you've met be able to bring life back into these melodies? Even as life begins to seep out of your own body? (scaramouche x gn!reader)

tags. gender-neutral reader, angst, fluff, crack, heavy contexts of death and illnesses, friends to lovers, slowburn, profanities, drinking (characters are in college), suggestive themes but no nsfw.

taglist. (open, reply or send an ask to be added) — @beriiov @alatusorrow @br0oke96 @ohmyfinggod @itzblazekun @featuredtofu @sketcheeee @lazy-sanns @sakurapeach @sheraffim

masterpost ★ masterlist © bamdelune 2023. do not repost, translate, plagiarize any of my works without permission, thank you so much! reblogs, notes, and comments are always appreciated!

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evolutionsvoid · 9 days

Text

I already know that all this stuff I have written about the Helkkja is going to get tossed out, what with Eucella complaining about this entire section having no relevance to the rest of the book. But I can't help it! Something about this subject just draws me in! I don't think I have ever been so obsessed with something like this (That is clearly a lie, Chlora and you know it! -E.R.)! So even if this doesn't make it into the book, I have to write a little something here! Just one more! Just a little treat for me!

So while I was reading up about the Helkkja, I found mention of another magically created species of theirs! Only a few references to them in writing and two supposed specimens ever found! They do not seem to have an official name, what with only a scant few pieces of information, but they are referred to as "Inscribed Soles." What the stories claim them to be are flatfish that have been magically modified by the Helkkja to be able to generate and use magical energies. To be more specific, these fish appear to be used like living spell books or magic scrolls, where their bodies are literally designed and etched to align with a specific spell or hex! Now the question is if they are born with these special runes already inscribed in them, or they come out the egg a clean slate and then the Helkkja infuse the specific spell they want. I feel like it would be the latter, as why would you want to leave your magic fish familiar to random chance?

Now the question is: what do they do with these fish? Well, from what I gather, Inscribed Soles are either used directly by the Helkkja as living scrolls to store valuable hexes on or for a weapon that is self-fueled. While witch magic is restricted to whatever you can brew and use in a wand, these magic infused fish could be carved with more mage-like spells, and then use the fish's internal mana stores to power it. Another use that has been brought up is that they serve as remote spies or weapons that the Helkkja seed their waters with, as well as surrounding regions. This theory was brought up due to the two specimens that were said to be caught by trawlers. The fish itself can activate its own spell, so perhaps it is meant to swim about, looking for trespassers or possibly threats, than either use their magic to contact its masters or activate the spell upon their flesh and use it to destroy enemy ships. As for how they get this mana, I believe it may tie to the strange energies that are said to be found in the abyss. Perhaps this fish is capable of absorbing this stuff while down below, and convert it into usable mana that can fuel its spells! Maybe it is tied to those odd parasites latched to one of its eyes! Could they be the abyss magic absorbers, or maybe that is where the energy is stored? Hard to say, but these are some intriguing questions!

Now I know this is quite a short entry, but I must stress there is very little known about these things. So much so that there are heavy doubts that this species even exists. Some claim that they are an invention of the paranoid, or people who want to create more fantastical abominations to blame on the Helkkja. And with the only way to see one is to either make landfall on the Helkkja's island or swim to the bottom of the ocean, finding hard evidence is going to be extremely difficult. That was why I was so enthused to hear that specimens of these creatures have been caught and preserved, and that one place near the village I was staying in actually had one on display! You just know I tore my roots up and hightailed it there as fast as I could! If there was actually one that I could see with my own eyes, that could help solidify the fact that they do exist! So I hurried to the place and got entry to see the display. It was a fascinating sight! A large flatfish, grayish in color and its hide and fins inscribed with strange runes and markings. Shriveled lumps stuck to one eye, probably the parasites that didn't survive the preservation process too well. They had dried the thing out and sealed in a glass container, so some features were a bit lost through this method. But still! It was an incredible sight! It really did make me question if this was the proof we needed to confirm if such a species exist. Maybe I could charter a fishing boat to try and trawl and catch one for my own! But then another visitor next to me at the exhibit said "it looks like someone dried out a flounder and carved gibberish into its hide." And I have to admit, yeah, it did kind of look like that. With that mention, it did bring to mind how easy it would be to create a forgery of a creature no one ever saw before, heard only in a few meager tales. And then I recalled paying an entrance fee to see said exhibit....

Chlora Myron

Dryad Natural Historian

Correct you are that I am cutting all this stuff out, and not just because magic and witches has nothing to do in a book on natural species around the world, but also because you have no actual information here! All of this is guesswork, myths and sheer rumor! All you have been doing for these entries is essentially "here is a weird thing I heard about some spooky northern witches. Is it true? I don't know!" I am not having a chapter in this already insufferably long book be you theorizing about spooky sea stories with no clear conclusion or evidence! SO YES IT IS OUT! Once we are done with the real book, we can release these in a small little pamphlet labeled "Chlora's Inane Ramblings About Ice Witches." Oh who am I kidding, that one would probably wind up still being three hundred pages long....

Eucella Raviida

Very Tired Editor

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

"Inscribed Sole"

Sneaking in something I forgot to post back when I did all those pieces of the Helkkja, but now that this month is loosely aquatic themed, I can huck it in! What if magic scrolls were alive, wet and very floppy?

#fish #flatfish #flounder #sea monster #parasite #body horror #art #drawing

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sapphic-woes · 1 year

Text

Lmao so I did it and I will not take any criticism. Vantage supremacy.

Vantage hunts you down. (Literally!)

You had been played for a fool. Or more accurately, you had blissfully ignored the signs.

A gunshot shatters through the silent forest, ripping out a chunk of the earth by your feet. The force makes your desperate pace falter, but you know one slip up is all it takes to be over.

Mara wouldn't hesitate. She'll pull the trigger.

Idiot. You're a fucking idiot! This was the Apex games. No one was harmless. But when she beamed down at you and spoke about the modern world with such curiosity, you couldn't help but adore her. She was young and trying to free her mother via participating in a bloodsport. Who wouldn't take pity on the kid?

A bullet grazes your thigh. You bite by a cry of agony. Apparently, those who were easily bamboozled did.

"Mara can watch out fuh herself, doncha worry." Ajay snorted as you told her about your efforts to help Vantage get comfortable with the games.

"Yeah but–I mean she's so young! She should be idle, without a care in the world, be innocent, or at least naive–you know?" Ajay raised an eyebrow at you, shaking her head.

"Yuh the only one who thinks that. Cuz Mara's got yuh wrapped around her finger." D.O.C. beeped as though to agree. You didn't understand, and at your confused stare Ajay only fixed you with a pitiful look.

"Poor thing. Don't yuh ever notice her starin'? Like she's watchin' a rabbit at the end of her scope. And you's the rabbit."

Back then, you hadn't understood. Now?

You slammed the door shut, fumbling to push some random deathbox in front of it. Frantically, you searched for syringes–nearly crying in relief to find a pack. You winced as you injected yourself with health, feeling the oh-so-expensive serum relieve some pain in your body.

Was she always this...terrifying? You'd only even been on teams with Vantage before, never at the end of her barrel. Ever since you took it upon yourself to help the FNG get comfortable with the games, the public had been obsessed, and the demand to see you two interact was overwhelming.

They loved your caring nature and the "big sister" vibes you gave off where it concerned Mara. You praised her when she managed to mark her "prey" down, backed her up to rush when she felt confident, and offered her supplies whenever you could. Bad fights only got soothing revives from you, and you never left her banner behind.

Your sales had rocketed due to this display, and very quickly fans warmed up to Vantage as well. However, your agent had suggested a match where you guys would be enemies...just to test the waters.

But you doubt she thought it would come to this.

There was a heavy thud. Startled, you jolted, clutching your empty R-301 like it was your lifeline. God, Lifeline. She had been on your team, and things had been going great, that was until...

...a bullet plunges into her skull mid sentence, causing the gruesome image of blood splattering everywhere. There's a beat of frightening terror as Ajay falls to the ground, completely knocked down. Oh my God. Before you can even find the culprit, another shot takes Ajay right out of the game. With only one other squad left, at best, it was 1 v 1 now. But at the worst?

Another shot rings out. Even though you stood still, it didn't find it's mark–but it did make you break into a frantic run–hyper aware that only one person was capable of killing someone in two shots.

Mara–no, Vantage–was hunting you down like prey, and you were running out of places to hide. You swallowed as you peeked out the window, watching Mara dust dirt from her landing with a hum. Her upbeat attitude sent prickles up your spine. Before you'd found it endearing, but now it made your heart pound with dread.

She's enjoying this. Her sharp eyes brightly glanced around, steps perfectly quiet and precise. Mara paused with a tilt in her head, and you held your breath as she spoke.

"I know you're here, y/n. I can smell you." Wait, seriously? That's not just a tidbit she says for the show? She couldn't actually do that, right? Vantage may have been a seasoned hunter, but she was still totally human...right?

"Sweet...reeking with fear. Gosh it almost makes me feel bad. Afraid I'm gonna eat you alive? Don't worry y/n–I don't bite too much." Vantage chuckled to herself, stalking around in search of you.

"You're always so reliable and confident with me, but your panicked face when I "miss" a shot? Precious."

She missed on purpose? You didn't understand why. It looked like she was the last of her squad too, so if she had hit you she would have won. What did Vantage gain from stretching out this game of cat and mouse...

Oh.

"Echo thinks it's hilarious...but I dunno. It's kinda cute."

You couldn't believe what she was saying, face growing bright red. She'd made you run for ages, freaking out when gunshot after gunshot barely missed your form–because she thought you were cute?

She did remember this was broadcast live right? She did remember everyone was watching her do...whatever this was to you right now.

A voice echoed above you both, and you winced. The final ring was going to close soon, and you were out of heat shields. You doubted Vantage didn't have a pair, since you always nagged her to pick them up.

Which meant you'd have to face her head on.

Shit.

"Are you gonna hide in there all day? Didn't take you to be the type to cower. Guess I'll have to uh, what do they call it?" Mara's voice at the other side of the door you'd blocked made you squeak, and you swore she giggled at the sound. It would have been like bells in your ears if not for what she did next.

Bang. Mara kicked the blocked door with a loud crack, and you flinched as the door started to shatter.

Bang. Frantic, you glanced around as she busted her way in, grabbing a thermite grenade and aiming it at her.

Bang. You chucked it once the door finally shattered, sharply turning to run up the stairs. You could hear the sound of her surprise, followed by a chilling, hysterical laugh–and the growl she released as she spoke.

"Smart. I do love a good chase..." The words sent a shiver down your spine. You had never seen Mara like this. Her heartwarming smile was replaced with a smirk, sly as she followed the sound of you panicked footsteps. There was no ammo, no syringes–god this place has been completely cleaned out–and things only grew worse when a voice boomed overheard.

The final ring was closing, and it was going to force you to come back the way you came.

Click.

The sound of her sniper was painfully familiar. You froze, turning slowly to look at Mara. Sure enough, her trademark gun was out, ready to fire, and you were at the end of her scope.

"...Take what's yours? Claim what you want? I dunno, Loba says it I want it, I should have it. Something like that. Just..." You stayed still as Mara walked closer. Her gaze was sharp, demeaning–and somehow you felt stripped bare under it, legs growing weak. The end of her sniper rested against the bottom of your chin, forcing you to look up and keep her gaze.

"It's only natural to hunt down what you're hungry for, right?" Her voice dipped into a husky tone, and you nervously licked your lips, unsure if she meant simple survival instincts or something else.

"Are–uh, Ma-I mean, Vantage–" You stuttered fruitlessly, sucking in a breath when Mara came closer.

"Mhm?" God. Her hum was sweet yet awfully intimidating, making you shiver when calloused hands brushed against your side.

"Why did–you're acting different–I mean just–does, d-does that mean you...uh, to me..." The mess of questions in your head jumbled up into one measly whisper. The sniper grinned, leaning down to let her soft lips brush over your forehead.

"I like you, y/n. You're a little dense, super naive, but all cute, weak prey are. That's what makes chasing them down and marking them so satisfying." As she speaks, you suddenly feel the cool end of a wingman pressed against your skull, and your stomach sinks as Vantage sweetly smiles

"So good luck trying to escape my grasp. I never let go of the things I like."

Bang.

#vantage x reader #vantage apex legends #apex legends x reader #xiomara contreras #YES SHE KILLS YOU. MARA DOESN'T HESITATE OK #but she will find you after the game and kiss it better ❤️

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h0n3yk1tt3n · 1 month

Note

45 + boyf riends :)

So. i got super carried away with this one. like. this isn't even everything i wrote. i basically started rewriting everything from this point to jer waking up in the hospital. it's. not finished. i may just post it to ao3 when/if it is. BUT in the interest of finally answering this ask, here's as much as i could write to an ok-ish stopping point

45. realization of feelings at the Worst Possible Moment + boyf riends

"I'm going to improve your life, Jeremy! If I have to take over the entire student body to do it!"

Jeremy's phone clattered to the stage floor, his entire body seizing up as he followed it down. Shockwaves rippled through him like the worst case of pins and needles in the world as he tried to reach for his phone. He needed Michael, the only person that could drag him out of this mess. He knew Michael didn't have much reason to help him, but it was his only hope. His only chance at fixing what he'd so royally fucked up.

Jeremy's stiff limbs couldn't get him any further as he watched his phone screen go dark, the cropped New Year's selfie of him and Michael disappearing just like he’d disappeared from Michael's side. The darkness backstage started to swallow him until a piercing light flashed over him. As quickly as it was there, it was gone, but as quickly as it was gone, Jeremy felt the static start to clear from his heavy body and found he was being pulled up off the ground.

"Don't think you're supposed to be napping backstage, buddy." He felt his arm loop around something as he was hoisted to his feet. "Might miss your cue."

Jeremy blinked away the remaining static in his head and blearily looked up at his savior, eyes widening as recognition hit him like a stack of bricks. "Michael!"

He threw himself into a hug on sheer instinct, and any idea that Michael didn't want any part of him was quickly forgotten when he hugged back, squeezing him with just as much enthusiasm as ever. Jeremy would've stayed in that hug indefinitely if there weren't more pressing matters at hand.

"How did you- you actually came for- what made you-" He abandoned all questions he had and pulled away with an excited laugh he didn’t know he was capable of anymore. “I can’t believe you’re here!”

Michael handed Jeremy’s phone back to him, wearing an easy smile that Jeremy had nearly forgotten. “I was just in the audience thinking, 'this is pretty good for a school play.' Then I was like,” he shook Jeremy’s shoulders for comical emphasis, “'this is way too good for a school play!' They've all been squipped, right?”

Jeremy blinked rapidly. "W-w-wait, you came to see me in The Play??" That tugged at his heart more than he expected it to. Even after blocking Michael out for so long, he still…

Michael reached into his hoodie pocket with a playful smirk. "Even brought my own refreshments." He pulled out a red soda and pointed it to the sky like it was an all powerful elixir. To Jeremy, it practically was.

"Is that-?!"

"Mountain Dew Red!" Michael poked Jeremy's arm with the top of the bottle. "Told you I did my research."

Jeremy had to remember to shower Michael with every ounce of praise in the world the moment there wasn’t a tyrannical computer meddling around inside his brain. "That's amazing! Give it to me!"

Michael suddenly pulled the bottle out of his reach. "Ah-buh-buh. No."

Dread ran down Jeremy's back like hot molasses. No? After bringing it to The Play?? "What?? But- I need it."

Michael crossed his arms over his chest, suddenly looking about half as angry as Jeremy suspected he should’ve after all was said and done. The other half was a painful mix of betrayed and tired. He didn’t imagine the isolation had exactly been fun for Michael. "And I need an apology. I think that's in order. I mean, you treat me like I don't exist for weeks, then blow me off when I try to help you-"

Jeremy dropped his shoulders with a sigh, accepting that he’d been a bit hasty. An apology was the least Michael deserved. "Okyouknowwhat, you're right, I'm s-"

“Vocal Chords: Blocked”

The word got scrambled on Jeremy’s tongue. He brought his hands to his throat with wide eyes when further attempts to say sorry produced only silence. Shit, the SQUIP still had control over him! Of course it wouldn’t go down so easily!

Michael rolled his eyes hard. "Really? Is it that hard to say you’re sorry?"

"Y…” The tension in Jeremy’s throat thankfully subsided, but he knew Far Cry 3’s definition of insanity, and resigned to the fact that the apology had to be shelved for now. “Yes! Come on, man, this is important!"

"This is important to me!" Michael insisted. Of all the times he could’ve chosen to be stubborn…

"It's a word!"

"It's a gesture! Gestures matter!"

"It can wait a couple minutes!" Jeremy made a move for the bottle, but Michael still kept it above his head out of arm’s reach. Shit, if only he knew the full scope of what the SQUIP was doing.

"Kung Fu Fists: Activate"

Jeremy's body snapped into a stance he'd never taken, much like an idle character jerking into a fighting animation about as smoothly as you’d expect for a buggy video game. His speech felt much the same. Thoughts he’d never dare say out loud coming out in the worst way they could’ve been phrased.

"This is so you!" A punch that Jeremy didn't throw nearly connected to Michael's newly shocked face. "You love to feel superior," another punch that Michael narrowly avoided, "just because you eat eel on your sushi!" Yet another, "And listen to music on vinyl!" A successful kick to the side that caught Michael off guard, "And you don't care about being popular!"

The SQUIP had taken control of Jeremy’s body before, usually just to get him out of a room or something equally menial. To watch his own body attack Michael without his input while he was powerless to stop it was nothing short of horrific. And to hear such twisted sentiments falling out on his mouth was just as much. Michael’s easy indifference to a reputation that Jeremy had always cared so much about was a little annoying, yes, but this wasn’t the time nor the way that Jeremy wanted that dirty laundry to be aired out. Not when his sheer admiration for Michael outweighed that little smidge of underlying bitterness.

The weight of just how long it’d been since they last linked up started to press down on Jeremy. Two months of no AotD or weed or runs to 7-Eleven all caught up to him and hit him at once. Holy shit, he missed Michael so much. And to imagine a world where he didn’t have him? Where the SQUIP completely erased him from his life, for good? Jeremy couldn’t let that happen. He couldn’t let the SQUIP win. He loved Michael too much to watch him fade away again.

Wait. He loved Michael. Like. As something other than a best friend. As someone he didn't want to be apart from ever again if it could be helped, and he hoped it could be, considering the technological uprising in progress. He’d never paid much mind to the more… questionable thoughts he’d had of Michael and always just blamed it on hormones, or loneliness, or some resignation that no one else would ever date him so fantasies were the best he was gonna get. But… no. No, he wanted that stuff too. There was a bigger reason that the homophobic remarks of years past hurt as much as they did. Impulsive stoned desires of kissing Michael weren’t a sole product of being high; they hadn’t come out of nowhere.

Jeremy loved Michael. His humor, his charm, the upbeat energy that seemed to follow him everywhere - SQUIP happenings notwithstanding - there was a reason he’d felt so hollow after blocking his friend. He'd always known he loved Michael; they'd known each other pretty much their whole lives after all. He just hadn't known the wider scope of it until... shit, why did the world decide now was the time to give him this revelation?!

Michael caught Jeremy's foot out of the air, struggling against the second kick the SQUIP was trying to land since the first one had actually yielded results. "Of course I care!" He threw Jeremy's foot down, causing a stumble and forced repositioning. "I just know it's never gonna happen!"

Michael tried stuffing the soda back into his hoodie pocket, only being able to get it partially in before Jeremy pushed him into the wall with strength that wasn't his own. "So you resent me because I didn't give up like you did?" a scary voice sneered.

Michael grabbed Jeremy's wrists and crossed his arms over his chest to give him less mobility and reach to fight him. Something painful flashed over his face. "No, I don't resent you! I'm jealous you try!"

"Well I'm jealous you don't!" The truth of the words scratched at Jeremy’s throat as he tried resisting whatever lie or petty jab the SQUIP wanted to twist out of him. The SQUIP tried thrashing Jeremy out of Michael’s grasp, but an overcalculation brought them both falling to the ground instead.

The Mountain Dew Red fell out of Michael's pocket with a dense thud, followed by a quiet hiss. A thick layer of pink foam began to form atop the meniscus of the soda as the bottle jerkily rolled a few feet away before coming back halfway to a wobbly halt.

Michael grunted in pain upon landing with Jeremy on top of him. "Then why are you hitting me?!"

"I'm not-" Jeremy’s fist veered just far enough left to miss Michael's shoulder and punch the stage floor instead – it hurt, and it was the most he'd been able to accomplish, "trying to!"

Michael managed to take hold of Jeremy’s wrists again. The SQUIP fought hard to keep control. Jeremy hoped that he could fight harder to take it back. "Well don't try harder!"

“It’s not me!” Jeremy choked out, the burning in his scraped knuckles getting drowned out by the one holding his body hostage. “It’s- my- SQUIP!”

He sloppily tore himself off of Michael, the pain of resisting the SQUIP’s actions strangling a raspy gasp out of him as he hit the stage floor. The friction prickled at his elbow as he tried to distance himself and keep from hurting Michael further. He couldn’t get very far before he was seized into place by the SQUIP’s electricity again, like when he’d tried calling Michael. Jeremy didn’t think he’d ever been in more pain, but he’d endure it if he didn’t have to watch himself fight his best friend.

Michael’s eyes widened in horror at the kind of power the SQUIP had, then darkened upon things becoming more personal than they already were. He’d never been fond of anyone that went out of their way to hurt Jeremy, and the SQUIP was clearly no exception. "It's. What?"

Unshed tears stung Jeremy’s eyes. He wondered if fire burned half as bad as this. He wondered if Rich knew. He wondered if he’d live through this and actually be able to tell Michael what he really meant to him. "It's taking over my body.” Jeremy tried pushing himself up, but his arms gave out beneath him. He felt like an elephant was standing on him. It was so hard to breathe. “You gotta help me! I'm sorry!"

#asks #mj says shit #be more chill #writing #fanfic #sorta?? we'll see #bmc the play #squip #jeremy heere #michael mell #boyf riends

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swaqcenix · 1 year

Text

༻The unloveable | Wanda Maximoff ༺

Wanda Maximoff x gn!reader

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Summary: Being loved wasn't what you were used to. You have a past as much as anyone, but it's affecting you too much. You're too unlovable and you know it.

Warnings: angst with no happy ending, severe trauma, panic attack, depression and anxiety, implied suicidal thoughts and attempts, self- harm, implied and mentions of past abuse, read at your own risk!

Pairings: Wanda x reader

Word count: 810

AN: Unfortunately I needed an outlet to write about my thoughts and my past, but that's all it is now! Remember to read at your own discretion as it is a heavy one, but stay hydrated and remember I love you <3

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You weren't sure what enhanced you to do it. Perhaps it was the burning taste of the liquor running down your throat. Perhaps it was your mind screaming at you for everything and anything.

All you knew was you felt like utter shit. You looked like a truck had come and hit you straight on. Your body paced back and forth as you worried intensely. The phone call came in the early hours of the morning. Your sister was in the hospital, having being in an accident just a mere minute before.

Wanda was broken, she wasn't sure what to do and frankly you didn't blame her. Pushing her away seemed like the most honest thing to do. You weren't capable of love or being loved. You'd forgotten how it felt, how to feel safe and secure every since your ex Katie didn't show it.

Punch after punch, cut after cut. You'd gotten so used to the feeling of blood trickling down your face you forgotten the feeling of love. So when Wanda came into your life it was so different. Every morning waking up in fear, before eventually relaxing. She was your muse.

But, nothing good ever lasts forever, at least not for you. The alcohol didn't help. You knew that, but the way you blamed yourself for your sister. If you hadn't been drinking, perhaps you could have rang her. Maybe she'd be safe.

It wouldn't be your fault then. But it wasn't the case now and it didn't stop the pounding pain of anger and disgust in your head. Disgust of the outcome, disgust of you.

You texted her in the early hours of the morning.

"This isn't good. Me and you..."

Why you thought that was a good idea god knows. You didn't say you'd die together though. You adored her, admired Wanda. Yet here you were pushing her away.

You kept telling yourself over and over. Fucking unlovable. It's what was engraved on your mind. Ever since Katie you'd forgotten what it felt like. Safety, the feeling of being content.

You loved Wanda as Icarus loved the sun- too close and too much. But you didn't care as she loved you the same. The feeling of being touched by her was igniting. She was igniting and most of all she was the moon that lit you up.

You felt less scared around her, less disgust. Of course you didn't tell her this, you did what you learnt to do. Bury your feelings. Wanda knew though, she always knew.

When you received the response of good luck, the way she knew it was coming you shattered. You we're turning into Katie, into the way she hit your stomach. The way she made you feel. You were becoming the storm.

"Wanda I love you," you tried to make her understand, but in doing that you'd need to tell her the cause.

You couldn't tell her what caused the internal pain. The fire that only she could put out. Wanda was the light that allowed you to see. You wouldn't tell her that, as you didn't want her to think she had to stay. Instead you pushed her away. She was too bright, too precious for you.

Wanda was far too above you, for you to ever deserve her. You'd always love her, how couldn't you? Look at Wanda Maximoff. She was the sun, the moon the stars. She was everything.

But you couldn't be hers as you didn't deserve her. She had spent her time convincing you otherwise. It was when she left herself as it wasn't fair. You were too flawed, too broken. You were too far gone for her to stay and most of all, you were too unloveable. You'd learnt that so long ago. Part of you missed the blood that trickled down your cheek, it allowed you to understand how loveless you were.

As she grabbed her bags and left your mind screamed. It begged you to tell her, to let her understand. She would always be loved by you. But you were too flawed. As the blade slid down your skin and the familiar feeling of hatred came back. You remembered the feeling of being unloved. How could anyone possibly love you?

Wanda did, but you knew deep down. You were the unloveable. The trickle of blood allowed the feeling of understanding come back. The hatred.

"I love you," the words spilled as she left.

You found the walls collapsed in on you as she left. She loved you. But you could not love you.

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#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x gender neutral reader #wanda x you #wanda maximoff angst #wanda maximoff x yn #mcu fic #mcu #marvel #marvel fic

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multimilfs · 2 years

Text

Zelda Spellman x Fem!Reader: On The Basis of Understanding

Summary: ghostsunderstoodmysoul requested "Hi, darling! I didn't want to bother you so quickly, especially since you just wrote something at my request. But sorry, I couldn't resist seeing that Zelda is also on your masterlist. I was thinking about something where the reader was bitten by a werewolf and every now and then turns into one herself. She can't deal with the fact that something independent of her is taking control of her body, and she can't do much about it. And here comes Zelda, who also suffered a similar trauma when the Caligari spell was placed on her, and she herself had no power over her body. Maybe something in the context of their developing relationship? They both support each other, Zelda teaches the sensitive reader to overcome her fears and helps her control her "powers", and in return she shows Zelda what tenderness, affection and care mean. Thank you in advance and have a lovely day!"

A/N: Now I hope you all don't think I forgot about the requests in my asks.... I didn't! They're just taking a while to get to, you know, with the burnout and all. This was the first one I ever tried to write again so it was written over the course of a few months, forgive any errors or lack of fluidity on that end.

Happy halloween!!! 🎃

Tag List: @ghostsunderstoodmysoul @multifandomfix @escapetodreamworld @angel7376

Warning(s): Brief descriptions of violence

It’s that time again. The time when your skin itches unpleasantly, breaking out into a permanent set of goosebumps and your nail beds ache, the skin splitting like a bad hangnail. You wrap bandages around your fingers in hopes of quelling some of the pain until your transformation.

The physical changes are only a temporary side effect, one that you welcome. They mean peace for a few days after; no voices, no urges, just blissful quiet and energy eventually floods your body like you’d slept for days.

Then it ends. You open your eyes to a heavy feeling in your chest. Voices, whispers in the back of your mind prod you without end—eat this, do that, kill them. The little control you have goes to staving off those urges.

No one notices, praise Lilith, but it's miserable.

A hand settles on your arm and you turn to meet inquiring eyes. Zelda examines your face like she can understand exactly how you feel. Most of the time, she wasn’t too far off.

“Have you prepared for this evening?” Zelda’s eyes dart briefly to your wrapped fingers.

“As much as I normally do.” You answer.

This prompts an eyeroll. Her hand leaves your arm, coming to rest on her hip as the other holds a lit cigarette. She inhales slowly, breathing it out in a quick puff. Then once more just for flair.

“Which is to say you’ve done nothing.” She states—no question in her tone, just a knowing glare.

“It’s a little counterproductive to prepare for something you can’t predict.”

“Perhaps it would be more predictable if you were.”

You laugh. A bitter note creeps into your chest, tinging the amusement with something angry. If only it could be that easy. You thrive on routine, but this… beast inside of you does everything to fight against it. Being predictable would go against its very nature.

“If you say so, Zelda.”

“You know this could be avoided if you allowed me to be there,” She says, inclining her head and flourishing with a hand as she speaks, “but you choose to doubt my skills.” “There is nothing about doubting your skill involved. I’m choosing not to put you in danger.” You say. The conversation alone is giving you a headache, though it’s one you have often.

“I’m quite capable of protecting myself.”

Humming, you let the conversation lapse into silence. It isn’t comfortable now, but soon enough it will be. You greatly admire Zelda’s willingness to help, the problem is that by helping she puts herself in danger. Too many people have been willing to put her at risk and you refuse to do the same.

This is something you’ll figure out alone. If you hurt someone, especially Zelda, you will never forgive yourself.

Your shoulders tense, flashes of images running behind your eyes; cruel nightmares brought on by your affliction. Nightmares of the beast taking over, rendered useless as it tears the woman apart. Bile rises in your throat as your stomach turns.

Her hand settles on your arm once more, eyes apologetic. You give her a small smile.

“The wards will allow you in, should you need my help.” Zelda murmurs.

“Thank you.”

The staccato of heels grows quiet as she walks down the hall and into her office. You let out a breath, closing your eyes and trying to push away the horrid images. Why is this your fate, of all things? Is it too much to ask for control over your own mind?

Class doors open around you, forcing your movement. Your free period is over. In a few minutes, a class will await you, full of curious young witches and warlocks who are completely oblivious to their professor’s lack of control, lack of being.

With your mind clouded by worry, the rest of the day passes quickly. It’s like a blur where you feel in control and yet, not present. It isn’t you speaking or moving; you watch from outside yourself as it all happens. You would blame it on the other part of yourself, but it has no involvement. It’s too busy getting ready for the full moon.

Fear creeps in slowly, leaving you frozen in your living room. That’s all you remember before everything goes black.

—

Something… hard is pressed against the side of your body. Not hot or cold, but lacking in any sort of temperature, and uncomfortable. You shift and something tugs at your arm. A pin-prick of pressure, pulled and released in an instant. The groan that leaves your mouth is something less than human, forcing you to open your eyes and look down.

Splayed in front of you are two long legs covered in fur. You shift from laying on your side to laying on your stomach, feeling that familiar prickling as the wooden boards pull at your fur. The only thing allowing you to see in the surrounding darkness is an overhead light and your enhanced vision. You’re on a porch, one you don’t recognize until glancing at the door.

Zelda Spellman stands in the doorway, leaning against the wood, smoke framing her face. She watches you with only a curious glance. You can’t believe you hadn’t caught the cigarette before, it’s stench overwhelming; unpleasant if not for the way it mingled with Zelda’s perfume.

“Took you long enough.” She sighs, further framing herself with the smoke, “Come inside.”

Your body moves before your mind can catch up. As if you’re on autopilot, you stand on aching haunches, moving towards her. It isn’t until your mind becomes present that you stop. That familiar voice, though faint, was ordering you not to obey—not to follow the orders of a witch.

Before, this voice’s desires would be law, forcing you onto an alternate path. Now it was a suggestion. You continue in spite of its angry cries, following Zelda up the steps and into a room you’ve seen before. You hesitate.

“I’ve had the sheets changed for you, go on.” Zelda urges.

Unfamiliar warmth fills your chest as you leap onto the bed. She had no idea you’d come, but made the effort anyway. The covers, no matter how old and worn, were reserved for you. You have some small place in the Spellman house. Even if it is temporary, it’s more than you had before.

You turn, working out lumps that aren’t there. Curling in on your body, your ears twitch. A soft sigh catches them before the door closes and you’re alone. Left with the faint scent of cigarette smoke and Zelda, you settle in for the remaining hours of the night.

—

“Hilda, don’t disturb her. She’s had a long night.” A voice hisses through your exhaustion.

“I’m giving her some clothes.” Hilda hisses back.

The lack of twitching in your ears is reassurance of being human once more. You try not to move too much or breathe too fast, so Hilda won’t worry that she’d woken you. If Zelda got on her case, you’d feel horrible.

“You’ve done more than enough, now shoo.” Zelda whispers, her voice losing some of its bite.

“I’m going, I’m going!”

Hilda’s steps fade, but you can still feel a presence. Zelda. Her warmth seeps into your body despite her place across the room. Eyes pierce your flesh and continue to do so until you open your own.

“Good morning.” You murmur, meeting her eyes.

“It’s closer to the afternoon, but yes, good morning.” Zelda says.

“Why didn’t you wake me?”

You shoot up, just managing to remember your state of dress before the blanket falls. Some time during the night you burrowed below the covers. Now, they’re the only layer between you and Zelda’s stare.

The near-slip makaes Zelda’s lips twitch, a smirk beginning to form. You would glare if the energy was available to you. But when you shoot up, your vision begins to spin, and your head feels heavy.

“I’m not in the habit of giving my guests a schedule. You needed the rest.”

“Still, I feel… rude for intruding on your home and then missing breakfast.”

“As if Hilda could think of you as anything other than a delight. She’s saved you more than a fair portion of her food and excitement.” Zelda scoffs, but can’t hide the note of fondness when talking about her sister.

“Thank her for me, will you? For that and the clothes.” You smile, motioning to the neatly folded shirt and pants at your feet.

“You can thank her yourself after you get dressed.”

Zelda makes no effort to move and you glare. Rolling her eyes, she covers them. She sees no point in your efforts to conceal your form, being around for ages makes the stigma around the human anatomy trivial to her, especially since she’s of the same sex. But she respects your desire for privacy.

“Something was different last night, wasn’t it?” She asks, eyes still covered as you dress.

Now that you think of it… something had been different. Though you can’t quite place your finger on it. All you know is that you felt better this morning, less tired than after previous transformations.

“It was, I believe. Though I’m not sure what changed.” You answer honestly, finally coming to button the pants you were offered, “You can look now.”

Zelda lowers her hand, taking in your appearance and nodding. Then she sits back in her chair. You notice a short glass on the table next to her, no doubt filled with a sophisticated mix of alcohol, despite the early hour.

“You seemed more like yourself when you arrived. Less… aggressive.”

“Aggressive?” You ask, a note of panic seeping in. Have you hurt her before?

“You’ve never done anything physical, though a fair bit of snarling anytime I came near you. You were far more annoying than dangerous.”

Swirling the liquid in her glass, she takes a slow sip. Her eyes watch over the rim as you relax. Many times the two of you have discussed your fears, especially those related to hurting others. Causing any pain to people around you would blemish your caring spirit.

“I had more awareness when I arrived. You told me to come inside and I could, I didn’t have to fight with… it to do what I wanted.” You admit.

“You have to stop referring to your other half as an ‘it.’” Zelda sighs, exhausted with the effort of repeating herself, “Every time you’ve ventured closer to acceptance, you’ve gained more control. You can’t fight for the rest of your life.” “Says who?” You snap.

It’s pure, unfiltered anger that you direct her way. She hesitates, filling you with guilt, before moving forward without acknowledgement.

“It isn’t healthy. You know this, you’re just too stubborn to admit it.”

“Because this thing, this curse? It isn’t me. It will never be me. How can it be, when I can’t even control it?”

The look in Zelda’s eyes leaves you uneasy. Worse than pity or sadness, it’s an understanding. She knows what it's like to lose control and it terrifies you. You’re keenly reminded of her own experience, your stomach turning unpleasantly.

“Whether you like it or not, lycanthropy is a permanent affliction. You lose nothing from trying to accept it.”

“I lose myself!” Tears pull at the corners of your eyes, threatening to fall with each breath. How many times will you have this conversation before she understands?

Zelda looks into your eyes. Her mouth is open, lips poised to speak, when she pauses. A nerve has clearly been struck. It's only natural, but there will never be a conversation on this topic that didn’t strike a nerve. The open wound in your heart will know no peace.

“In order to become what it is, it needs you, Y/N. Mind and body. It is fueled by magic, but lives only with your essence. Losing yourself is impossible.” Zelda stands, crossing the room. She stops before you, forcing your eyes to meet her own, “The being you believe is in your head? It has to bend to your will. All you need to do is accept its presence and it will fall in line.”

You let some of the tears fall, emotion tightening in your chest. A hand wipes away the tears, delicate eyes following the trails of them. Can it really be so simple?

Months; you’ve fought this feeling for months. So many words have left Zelda’s lips in that time. Reassurances, urges—all to accept the situation as it was. The things she said bounced off of your mind, never taking purchase, until now.

Relief should flood through your veins. The tears in your eyes should be happy, joyous. Instead, grief drags your heart from the joy it craves. You’ve prolonged this pain for months, when it could’ve changed in days, all because of your fear.

You have no idea if Zelda will understand, but you don’t need to know. Not when she pulls you against her. Tears soak her blouse, she says nothing. Your hands clutch onto any part of her available.

“I’m… scared.” Wincing against the grit in your voice, you try to pull away. Zelda doesn’t let you.

“I know,” Zelda says, rubbing a hand over your back, “but one day you won’t be.”

You hated to admit she’s right, and over time, she is. Instead of shutting the animalistic thoughts and urges out, you redirect them; picking up something to do or eating to keep your jaws busy. The fear is still ever present. As small as it is, it holds you back.

Zelda takes on exercises to attune you to your own senses and now you stand in a large field, eyes closed as she instructs you.

“What do you smell?” She calls from across the space.

“I don’t know. Flowers?”

The sigh she releases makes you grin. Then comes a click, metal on metal; Zelda’s lighter. You hear the sound dozens of times per day, enough for its absence to worry you.

“Attune your senses to my cigarette. Expand your breadth, take it in.”

Hands clench at your sides, you make the effort to open yourself to the surroundings. It's like unplugging your nose after swimming in a pool. For a moment, scents meld together. The mixture is like a stain on your sense of smell. Then they begin to separate, splitting like a cell.

Petrichor clings to every blade of grass and leaf, enhancing the pungence of the sweet florals. Some are fresh, strong, their blooms new to the world. Others brown at the edges and give off musky nodes. Standing out among the natural scents is the familiar burning of Zelda’s cigarette. The tobacco is new, though the paper is damp.

All of it is so defined now, clear and original. It was overwhelming before you latched onto Zelda. Now, in your mind’s eye, you can confirm her position based on the tobacco. It struggles to blot out the fresh blossoms on your left. If you hadn’t heard her voice come from that way before, you would locate her now.

The more you think, the more you know it isn’t her cigarette that gives her away. Plenty of witches at the academy smoke. None of them wear the same scent, bear that same unintentional fragrance of soil like she does. It is her. As if it was written into her very DNA, you know this to be true.

“Tell me what you know.” Zelda says.

“They’re new, but you went out to smoke this morning. The paper was already damp before coming out here.”

“What brand?”

“Heavens Zelda, seriously? That’s impossible!”

“Focus. Don’t make excuses.” She hardens her tone, sending a chill down your spine.

You try to focus, but you can’t get a hint from the tobacco itself. Sometimes the box can give a hint of where it’s been. Nothing. You have little knowledge about cigarettes and can’t pinpoint anything.

“I don’t know.” Your shoulders sag and you open your eyes.

The red and white box catches your eye, you grit your teeth. It’d been so simple. Marlboro reds are popular, but that was the reason you didn’t name them. Zelda isn’t someone who ordinarily goes with the popular choice.

“Do you normally smoke those?”

“If I want an easy option, yes.”

“What the hell does that mean?” A laugh escapes you, walking closer to her.

“I roll my own cigarettes, darling, that is what it means.” Zelda says.

You raise an eyebrow at that. Everyday you learn something new about her, something obscure. She is a woman of refined taste and knowledge. The idea that she rolls her own cigarettes shouldn’t surprise you.

Though that begs the question; if she rolls them, does she grow her own tobacco? The mortuary does reek of it, but you’d put that down to Zelda’s constant consumption. That would explain the ever present scents of less… legal plants coming from the attic as well. You guess that was just Ambrose’s doing.

“Alright, Coach, what next?” Crossing the field to stand at her side, you offer her a grin. A small smile pulls fondly at her mouth.

“I’m afraid I’m cutting it short today. I have far too many papers to grade this evening.” She sighs.

Zelda pinches the bridge of her nose with two fingers, cigarette nearly burnt through in her other hand. You take it and stub it out on the bottom of your shoe. The entire moment, your eyes never leave her. The tense set of her shoulders, barely shaking hand, and creases on her forehead create a worrying picture.

“Zelda, when was the last time you slept?” You ask.

“Last night.”

Her answer is quick, too quick. When your eyes meet, you can see the exhaustion reflected back in them. You reach out to rub a worry line from her forehead. It’s an unusual desire, but she allows it, despite her surprise. She even leans into it slightly.

“And how long did you sleep last night?” You prod.

There is no hiding the sheepish, caught expression on her face. It mingles perfectly with her typical indignation at being managed, “...Three hours.”

“I thought as much. Come on.”

You give her no time to adjust before taking her by the hand, pulling her across the green space in the direction of the academy. She stumbles for a brief moment. She attempts to pull her hand from your own, but your gentle grip is firm. An over dramatic sigh comes from behind you.

“Must you manhandle me? I’m perfectly capable of walking.” Zelda says.

“Are you?” You throw back without thinking, “Because you’re not capable of basic self care. It makes me wonder.”

That is another piece of your affliction you are adjusting to; your natural shyness is nowhere to be found, replaced with a quick-wit that often surprises others. Zelda inhales sharply, but says nothing. She’s becoming used to your easy quips. There is nothing for her to argue against, though, as you’re right.

It isn’t until you’re surrounded by the walls of Zelda’s office that you release her. Then you begin rifling through her desk, making her raise an eyebrow. She crosses her arms as she watches the scene, “What in Lilith’s name are you looking for?”

“Your answer key.” You throw back distractedly.

She’s at your side in an instant, unlocking the top left drawer and handing over a stack of papers. You scowl while she smirks.

“What are you doing with them?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m going to grade your papers.” You smile.

Zelda freezes in place. She looks as if she’s never seen you before. You wait, in awe of a truly speechless Zelda Spellman. Finally she speaks again.

“Why?” She asks breathlessly.

“You need papers graded and you need a nap. You can’t do both, so I can take care of one for you.”

Her flinty, suspicious eyes soften into warm pools. Indecision keeps her from speaking. You say nothing, not wanting to interrupt the thoughts running through her mind. Is your offer really so shocking? It feels like a trifle compared to all she’s done for you.

“I can’t let you do that, Y/N.” Zelda tries, but her voice lacks conviction.

“You can. Now, lay on the couch, I’ll go grab a blanket from my classroom!”

You rush from the room before she can mount an argument. Left behind in the office, Zelda sits down heavily on the leather couch. She stares at the doorway in disbelief. A tumultuous swirl of emotions pulses through her chest, a mixture of pain and longing. Somewhere relief worms in.

When is the last time someone went out of their way for her? Someone who isn’t her family, that was. She can’t recall. The number of friends she has can be counted on a single hand—a single finger, even, as she counts only you. Her heart aches.

You rush back into the room, a large green blanket piled in your arms. Behind the mountain of fabric, she catches the smile you aim at her. Her heart ceases in its ache, instead overwhelmed with warmth.

“I had to dig through my chest, but I remembered you liked this one last time,” You comment, missing the shaky smile on her lips, “Now lay down and don’t worry about a thing. I’ve got it all under control.”

For once, Zelda has nothing to say. She lays her head on the arm of the couch, letting you drape the blanket over her. Her eyes follow you to her desk where you sit. Then they slip closed briefly.

When they open again, she tries not to move. She’s content to watch you; the way you fiddle with the pen in your hand, eyes darting back and forth over the papers on the desk. You bite your lip in concentration and a fond smile breaks out on her features.

Over the weeks of work, you’ve become sure of yourself. More than ever before. And in that, you begin to take extra steps for her. Though she’s coming to realize they’ve always been there. Your care isn’t new, just more obvious under her constant attention. Like your affections, she’s also failed to acknowledge her own.

“Damn.” She hears you mutter, tapping the pen to the wood rapidly. Then you meet her eyes.

A brief expression of surprise flits over your face, before you smile. Zelda lets her own smile remain. What was it she said to you—that accepting your situation would make you happier, offer more control? Perhaps accepting this feeling in her chest will do the same for her.

“Has something stumped you?”

“Maybe,” You say, smile never wavering, “Did you enjoy your rest?”

“I did. It seems you need some now.”

“I’m okay, Zelda-”

“You can’t enforce self care on me and then refuse it yourself. It’s remarkably hypocritical.” Zelda says, raising a challenging eyebrow, “Come here.”

Knowing you’ve been caught, you stand and cross the room. You plop unceremoniously down next to her. The action draws a chuckle from her lips, husky with sleep.

Zelda offers a portion of the blanket to you. Rather than trade spots with you, she remains seated, waiting for your decision. It takes no time for you to take the offered warmth. In the silence of the room, you snuggle into her side. She leans back into you.

It takes only moments before you drift into sleep. She traces a finger over your cheek, sleep pulling at her once more. Before joining you in unconsciousness, Zelda presses a sweet kiss to the crown of your head. You are safe—loved. And so is she.

#zelda spellman #zelda spellman x reader #caos #caos x reader #chilling adventures of sabrina #zelda spellman imagine #chilling adventures of sabrina x reader #caos imagine #wlw #wlw imagine #oct2022 #multimilfswritings

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booburry · 4 months

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Madison's Folly// Part 3 // a Gale Dekarios Fic // WC 7.5k // Part 1 / Part 2 / Series Complete

Series Summary: Madison did not have a life of substance nor a life that invoked jealousy of the passing mind, but the few good things she had, she held dear. So when the man she loved unequivocally was left heartbroken by a goddess and a magical curse within his body, Madi found herself searching for any means to rid him of his life threatening burden, no matter the personal cost.

For all magic, no matter the greatness, comes with a cost to match.

AKA Madison does something foolish to prove her love for Gale without seeing the stark irony of the situation until it's far too late to step back.

A/N: Thank you all for waiting! Part 3 got a bit ahead of me, I felt like I needed to add more meat so it didn't feel like a constant info dump. I hope you enjoy and further A/N at the bottom to avoid spoilers for Part 3 ♥.

Tags: Angsty, Emotions, Unrequited Love, Established Friendship/Connection, Dialogue Heavy/Driven, Gale is moody and desperately in love, so much so that the guy isn't entirely thinking straight, spoilers for Act 2/3, Gale likes to see you sweat, they like to kiss cause they can't do anything more, they both have a flare for the dramatic, Companions are present (looking at Astarion & Karlach...), minor Tav x Astarion mentioned/in background

“She said we would find her in this land!” Gale argued as they stood outside the entrance to their party’s last point of interest.

“We’ve searched everywhere Gale, and she isn’t to be seen. Have you maybe thought that she changed her mind?” Shadowheart hotly argued back, Raphael having vanished ten minutes ago yet they still stood outside the stone doors because Gale refused to enter.

“I may not live to see past this bloody mess, so the least you can give me is being reunited with the woman I love!” Gale almost yelled, feeling his anger rise and spark to a boil the moment he heard Astarion’s ‘tsk’ of disagreement.

“Would that be Mystra or Madi? Or another mysterious lover with an M name…oh, is it Mizora? You dirty boy—”

“Shut. Up.” Gale growled as flames balled in his fists, Astarion simply sighing and showing no fear of Gale’s temperamental threats.

“Fine, have your no-fun tantrum but when you’re finished, I might ask you if your genius brain ever thought your little girlfriend might be in there?” He fixed Gale with his well-mastered ‘know it all’ smirk while shooting a thumb in the direction of the stone doors.

“Well…” Gale started to try to defend himself but found he was lacking the words, for, in truth, he hadn’t thought of that at all. He had been fixated on the word ‘land’, never thinking it would be under it. He felt quite foolish, and in his silence, Astarion continued with his point.

“The same place, mind you,” Astarion slowly sauntering towards Gale, “where I have a very personal matter to handle and where Shadowheart has her…thingy.” Astarion pouted at Gale, pausing a moment before straightening his expression and turning away from him. “I thought not. So let’s go, and if she isn’t in here then we search the whole bloody cursed lands a second time while taking the scenic route.” He concluded before turning on his heel to look back at Gale. “Is that agreeable? Or are you set to have another tantrum about it?”

Gale grumbled, displeased with the way he was being spoken to yet not being able to argue it wasn’t well deserved on his part. Silently, he walked towards the door, Astarion sighing into a smile and slinging his arm around Gale’s broad shoulders.

“Ah, a quiet Gale. My favourite.” He teased.

“I wouldn’t mind if you were quiet every once in a while, too,” Gale snarled as he shrugged Astarion’s arm off him, finding himself in no mood for his banter.

~X~

Madi sat in silence as she continued to wait another day for Gale and his companions to arrive. They were capable, surely—Gale alone should be able to complete Shar’s trial, so long as the tadpole didn’t do anything funny to his ability to cast his magic. She frowned at that thought, wondering if she should go searching for him, but every time she tried to leave, she was glued in her tracks.

She couldn’t walk further away from the destination of the deal she made with Shar, to kill the Nightsong, so now that she stood before the entrance into Shar’s domain, all Madi could do was wait and not move an inch closer or further from where she was destined to go.

She used this time to constantly run through her plan, rehearse the things she would tell Gale before they entered and then the other things for right before she made her ‘final act’—for she could only refer to it as that, even in her thoughts, until she was in a place where Shar could not have eyes on her.

The sound of grinding stone from behind her had Madi almost leap to her feet, immediately turning on her heels as the large stone disc that separated this entrance from Shar’s temple rolled to the side. Gale's head appeared within the first visible crack made by the moving seal, Madi immediately letting out a relieved smile before it faltered with the heaviness of the situation ahead.

However, a genuine laugh escaped her as she watched Gale shimmy his body through as soon as he could, practically shoving himself into the stone until it moved and made way for him, seemingly not wasting another second—quickly proving that point by running towards her the moment he could.

“You can have your lover’s reunion after I meet with my Lady,” Shadowheart called out, far angrier than Madi thought she should be, but perhaps their lengthy journey here had waned on her patience. No matter the reason, Madi couldn’t risk them going into Shar’s domain without speaking to Gale and the rest of them before they entered.

“I have waited for a long time,” Madi argued, fury behind every word, “the least you can—” Madi’s words were cut off as Gale thudded into her and clasped her within his arms, hugging her most fiercely.

Everyone, except for Gale, saw how Madi reacted. First, her arms froze in the air, her eyes wide and blank with fear, only to slowly close with a pained expression of regret before she clung to his body with every ounce of strength she carried, desperate to never let go yet holding onto him like it would be the last time she ever did.

“Whatever you need.” Shadowheart quietly whispered, all hostility lost in her tone as everyone but Gale felt the heaviness of an unknown moment slowly filling the room.

“We searched everywhere for you.” Gale breathed a large exhale as he told Madi, stepping away from his hold on her yet keeping his hands rested on her shoulders, only an arm's length away.

“Truly.” Astarion quipped from the back, Gale immediately rolling his eyes before closing them to take a deep, calming, breath.

“I’m glad you found me,” Madi softly told him, rubbing her hands along his robed arms, “but we should talk.”

“I am yours to command.” Gale was quick to reply, an enthusiastic smile on his lips.

“Well…in that case, I need you to cast Silence and Hold Person on me and then drag me to Lights Inn no matter how much I protest—is that in the realm of you being ‘mine to command’?” Gale smirked before drawing a hand up to scratch his beard, studying Madi who felt her focus cracking at the idea of commanding Gale under less dire circumstances.

“You have a strange way of flirting, you know that?” He paused, his smirk lingering before a prompt shake of his head and a wave of his arms. “Nevertheless, I wouldn’t be the gentleman I am if I denied my ladyher every desire.” He bowed to her with a flourish, Madi smiling and blushing at his antics and attention, forgetting what was truly ahead of her for only a moment.

But a moment was enough.

Enough to briefly envision a future where they walked away from this, together.

A vision that steeled Madi’s will to follow through with her plan. It was the only way she saw them having a chance at that future. Not walking away together, but just…any future together. It may come with slightly more risk compared to what Gale’s path had ahead of him, with Mystra’s request and what it would mean to defy her, but with a lot less calamity.

Out of the two options though? Her or Gale? Madi knew it had to be her to take the risk, to take the Karsite Weave within herself and stabilize and sustain it with her connection to the Shadow Weave and Shar’s magic that nested within her.

It also helped Madi wasn’t prone to the blinding ambition Gale historically demonstrated. She didn’t entirely hold it against him, the only exception being the obvious, however, she empathized and grew up seeing the effect of always being told you were the best or of the greatness you would attain had on Gale. How it nurtured his drive for power, for being better than he was the day before, that his magical abilities were all that mattered, was the only thing to focus on.

Among many other matters, Madi was also determined to make him see otherwise, but, for now, the power Madi would gain would be safe in her hands; safer.

Plus, this way, this short journey ends with Gale alive and free from Mystra’s clutches and that’s what mattered most to Madi.

A flash of Gale’s purple magic and she was frozen in place, her eyes remaining closed, but she felt the power within her creep up from her belly and through her throat; like a snake slithering to escape. Shar didn’t like this, didn’t want this to happen, and was manipulating the power she gave Madi to command the shadow weave placed within her, acting like strings for a puppet.

Madi felt her mouth open, unhinge itself almost, as a painful green flame festered and formed at the back of her mouth and at the perfect time Madi saw a scroll being read and silence suddenly cast upon her, the flame immediately evaporating, the weave nestling back into its slumber.

Without waiting, Karlach walked up to Madi and lifted her, set to carry her as they walked back to Light’s Inn.

~X~

Gale lightly brushed the hair away from Madi’s clammy forehead, worry growing roots within the pit of his stomach as he continued to wait for her to wake up.

“I’m sure things will be fine, Gale.” Astarion, uncharacteristically, tried to cheer him up. “You worry too much about it.” He paused a moment before glancing at Gale’s chest. “Besides, you have to be careful otherwise…‘undue stress’, I believe I heard you call it?”

“Thanks, Astarion,” Gale grunted, not caring for the reminder that he carried a bomb in his chest, a volatile orb that was not only at the center of his body but all of his troubles, too. His fanged friend just sighed and sat next to him on the bed.

“Look, I’m…no good at these things,” Astarion admitted with a frantic flourish of his arms, “and neither is Tav, but they are worried about you…and…well, I care what Tav cares about.” He finished with a huff, drawing Gale’s attention to his sudden vulnerability, knowing very well with a look at Astarion that it wasn’t just Tav who brought him here with concern. “Things weren’t exactly going super for you before we ran into her and every day since, well,” Astarion paused, pinching his expression as if trying to think of a way to not sound insulting, “you’ve not looked well, darling.” Gale smiled, a small huff of air leaving his nostrils as he looked back towards Madi.

“I haven’t entirely felt the best, truth be told,” Gale admitted, glancing back at Astarion as if to solidify his friend’s sincerity in his concern before continuing. “Surprisingly I think, without her, I would be a lot more indignant and intolerable than I already was.” Gale sighed deeply before his eyes fell back to Madi who was resting peacefully despite the horror it was getting her here and the fever that would not leave her.

The spells they had cast in the temple hadn’t lasted long once outside. Something managed to counterspell them despite their blessings and protections from the shadow curse, something far more powerful was at work here—a realization that had been the source of Gale’s nausea and unease since it crossed his mind.

He had watched as Madi’s eyes had become black the moment their spells were removed, immediately speaking in a tongue Gale did not recognize but from the way her whole body began to glow, they, collectively, knew it was not good.

Astarion was the one with the quick reflexes and reaction, knocking her out cold before Madi could finish her spell, whatever it had been. She was fine, despite being unconscious, until they walked into the barrier at Light’s Inn. Then she took a fever, her whole body shaking before they even got her into an open bed, unable to be awoken.

Gale desperately needed to understand what it was that she was dealing with, what stupid thing she did because of him, and by how much pain he saw her in, how changed and terrifying her powers had grown, he knew it was not good. He knew she reached for powers far greater than she should have, thinking that power was the only thing that could make a difference, that mattered.

Just like Elminster had said, if Gale took the moment to truly look closely at what she had done, he would see his very own actions.

Which only made him conclude that her power source was now directly entangled and connected with the very curse they sought to purge, the very curse Halsin, at the least, would fight to the death to end, and that was not someone Gale wished to face.

With this new perspective, Gale also now understood why Madi didn’t believe him when he said he would save her from this. He didn’t even understand its true nature but just from the power he saw, from the parts he could already gather, Gale knew it would be difficult to devise a plan.

“At times, I think there are things only you and I can understand out of our little group.” Astarion’s softer tone lightly carried Gale away from his thoughts, the elf’s expression pursed in sombre contemplation. “What it’s like to go from being surrounded by people to being alone yet never quite feeling the difference despite the company.” He offered, Gale lightly shrugging his brow in agreement. “Not needing the company of others yet striving to always be the best when you are.” Astarion offered a less favourable similarity, Gale having a harder time agreeing to it, but only because of his pride.

Astarion hesitated a moment before offering his third, his gaze finally acknowledging Madi.

“Lastly, I think I more recently than you, have found a single person who matters more to you than you could have ever imagined possible, despite the…problematic situations they’ve dragged us into.” Gale smiled, thinking of the precarious situations Tav had dragged them all into so far.

“I’m glad you have them.”

“I am too.” Astarion agreed with a soft smile, pausing a moment as he obviously thought of some memory or moment with Tav, before composing himself and returning his attention to Gale with a soft laugh. “I’m glad you have her too, but that is my point, Gale. If she has willingly done all of this,” he waved his hands dramatically in circles towards Madi, “to save this,” he waved his hands towards Gale, “then you have a chance. Besides, I haven’t met anyone who has made you act so foolishly and I can’t risk losing such entertainment.” Astarion lightly patted Gale’s shoulder. “So I’m invested, and you can count me in when it comes to saving your damsel.”

Gale tilted his head with a light nod, a smile spreading across his lips slowly in his bewilderment at how Astarion was talking to him, helping him, and Gale could truly tell it was authentic, it was truly him comforting Gale in this moment.

“You are a good friend, Astarion.” Gale warmly told him, a soft hand resting on his shoulder before he let out a soft chuckle. “I admit I—”

“Gale?” Madi weakly whispered, Gale immediately dropping to the side of her bed to take her hand into his, Astarion, without hesitation, got up and started walking towards the door saying how he would give them a moment before getting everyone, his tone nothing else but deadly serious.

“I’m right here, my love, you’re safe.” Madi breathed a weak smile, her chest rising with her unregulated panting.

“We made it?” Gale kissed her clammy hand as she struggled to get the three words out.

“I dutifully did as was commanded of me.” He told her, placing another kiss on her knuckles as he watched Madi close her eyes, her breathing becoming more laboured. “Tell me how I can help, Madi—please. I—”

“Nothing…not yet.” Madi groaned, almost hissed, at the pain inside her. Gale knew it was this new power she attained that caused this pain, caused this reaction, but he still couldn’t fully understand it until she told him! Gale found himself, quite honestly, growing impatient with continuously being left in the dark on the matter.

How was it that she was meant to help him, in all these grand ways he was kept in darkness over, yet he couldn’t do a simple thing for her? It was remarkably and unnecessarily unfair.

“You’re becoming more cryptic than Elminster,” Gale grumbled, not finding it in himself to be more cutting than that.

“I rue the day,” Madi whispered with an attempted, weak, playfulness before patting the bed with her free hand. “Help me move and lay with me. I will tell you everything I can.” Gale was quick to move, pulling from his robe a scroll of telekinesis they had found within a bookshelf in some place or another. He had been wondering when best to use such a spell, with it having so many uses, but ensuring Madi could be moved without pain, discomfort or Gale’s weak arms dropping her seemed like a just cause.

Quick and with a flourish, Gale cast the spell and gently repositioned Madi within the bed, allowing enough space for him to slide in. He held her suspended for a moment so that as she rested back into her pillow and mattress, it was also within Gale’s embrace. Madi smiled, her feverish sweat making her skin glow with all the candles and firelight flickering within the room.

“You are breathtaking,” Gale whispered to her, unable to stop himself from putting aside all other matters to just relish in this moment of being able to hold and love her. Madi’s finger slowly rose to boop the tip of his nose.

“You aren’t too bad yourself, handsome.” Gale watched as Madi’s soft and playful smile faltered into an expression of discomfort and fatigue. “I will be back to how I was once we return to the temple, nothing else that can fix this.” He ran a hand over her hair, clearing the stray strands that were in front of her face, before lovingly running a thumb over her cheek. It was taking every ounce of his energy to not panic, to not demand answers of what was going on. It helped to constantly loop through thoughts and reasons of why he loved her, of what she was enduring for him, what she had sacrificed, and that always reinforced his patience.

“And what, may I ask, is ‘this’ referring to?” He slowly, warmly, asked her, Madi smiling a little as if expecting such a response from him. However, Gale could hardly think of a more pressing question to ask, he just ensured to ask it with his decorum in mind.

“I have to kill the Nightsong,” Madi admitted after a small pause, Gale immediately turned from his thoughts, finding himself hanging onto her every word. “In exchange, Shar gave me the power to free you of your orb.”

“That’s who you made your deal with?” Gale immediately asked, purely out of shock as the answer was obviously ‘yes’. “Gods are not ones to seek favours from.” Madi was silent as she thought of how to respond, yet her silence was the only answer he required. Despite how profoundly Gale wished to lecture Masi on how diabolically hypocritical she was currently being, one wince of pain from her and Gale could only be left with worry.

“It was a deal I did not wish to make, but I was left no choice.” Gale felt immediately broken at her words, shattered from the weight of his guilt and shame of his action, that by stonewalling Madi he forced her down a dangerous path alone. “I found out what Elminster was instructed to tell you and I feared to my very core, Gale, that you would think yourself unworthy of living without Mystra’s approval and, quite frankly, kill yourself.”

Gale immediately wiped away the tears that started to form as Madi obviously sat with the thought of losing him while Gale couldn’t avoid empathizing with how deep the fear of losing him must have been for her to take such drastic measures. However, something told him that there was more to Madi’s deal to make it in Shar’s favour.

“I didn’t exactly give you any reason to believe otherwise, did I?” He asked, knowing the answer. “With being a shut-in within my tower, with how cruelly I ignored you…how desperate I was up until a few weeks ago to gain Mystra’s forgiveness.” Gale didn’t try to hide the contempt he held for himself being presented through his tone.

“Tara told me why you did it,” Madi was quick to tell him, her voice soft and full of compassion he did not deserve, “that you didn’t want to endanger me, that you had no idea what would happen with its volatility.” Gale just scoffed and shook his head at her justifications, it was hardly a reason to cause so much strife. Selfish.

“It doesn’t make up for it—”

“It doesn’t have to.” She cut him off again, seemingly impatient with his self-doubts and self-judgements. Madi had, however, been one to illogically against Gale’s standards while always finding the good in every poor choice made or quality had. As such, her opinion on the matter was quite biased—a point Gale felt necessary to keep telling himself. “You have plenty of time ahead to make up for it all. Promise.”

The reference to ‘time ahead’ had Gale immediately hit with thoughts of what that future was, with Madi, without the orb, and he felt desperate to have it. Yet something gnawed at him from the inside, like that future was just out of his reach from keeping.

The feeling struck fear in his heart—fear he would lose Madi, fear he would lose someone who saw only the best in his worst qualities, fear of losing the one person who seemed to make him better.

His heart sank to the bottom of his stomach, realizing that he risked losing all of this because of actions he drove her to take and he couldn’t allow her to carry that burden any longer.

“You don’t have to do this, we can find another way, a better way.” He begged her.

“No, Gale—” She tried to dismiss him but he wasn’t backing down, he had to fight for this, for her, for them.

“I’ll get stronger, better, I can figure a way to use this orb and save you—I am sure of it.” He promised her with all the honesty, sincerity, and desperation his heart could muster and carry.

“You don’t need to be ‘better’, Gale, please,” Madi begged him as she lightly stroked his cheek, “you don’t seem to understand how you have already been the best thing that is in my life, and it was never about your magic.” Gale chucked, lightly kissing Madi’s clammy forehead before cradling her closer to his chest, this not being the first, or probably last, time Madi had told him he was too reliant on his craft.

“I recall you being quite annoyed with me anytime I did cast magic for you.” He felt Madi smile against him, her finger bending and scratching against his chest.

“Yet you still can’t figure I don’t want you for your magical prowess.” Gale laughed with more force than he probably should have at the thought.

“Of course!” He told her. “What else could I possibly have to offer?” Gale felt Madi tug on his hair to make him look at her, her gaze looking so devastatingly serious he felt his breath hitch.

“I am not some goddess you need to impress. You could be a poor farmer with cursed crops, but so long as you were the devoted, doting, generous, caring, endearing, and intelligent man that you are then I would have everything I needed to be happy and fulfilled.” She drew her lips to his as Gale watched her with absolute shock, glazing over her comment of Mystra to focus on the way she described him and that Madi was serious with her convictions and not simply being playful with him.

He was so shocked he barely kissed her back but thankfully Madi did not seem to mind. Instead, she smiled at him with a weak but loving expression.

“I need no status, wealth or power Gale—”

“I know you don’t but I want to give that to you, a life where you are without wanting,” Gale confessed, still finding it absolutely preposterous that he, alone, as a simple commoner, could be enough for a woman such as her. Madi just lightly shook her head, tapping a finger into Gale’s forehead.

“We were so close,” she stressed with two taps, Gale letting out a small, soft, and shocked chuckle, “don’t get thick on me now.” She said, almost to Gale’s head or brain rather than himself, a notion he found both endearing and silly, but he listened to her words all the same.

“I guess I could try to understand.” He slowly admitted, instead shifting his focus to how he felt about her rather than thinking about what he deserved, as Madi was making it abundantly clear that he was no expert on that matter. He duly noted how she was pointedly telling him it was best to take her advice, and, despite how difficult it may prove in action, accept that her bias may be more deserving than he wished to accept.

A fact he could not ignore was how he had always been better off when taking her advice on matters, so despite his great reservations about such notions, all logic pointed to him resigning in this debate. And to think…the last time he disagreed with her was when he had just become Mystra’s lover and had foolishly run to tell Madi with immense pride at his triumph and elation—what a stinging realization that memory provided on multiple levels, Gale once again trying to pull his thoughts away from self-judgement and loathing.

“Sorry,” he apologized, noticing Madi’s playful expression slide into worry at his silence, “got lost in thought, but I say I should understand because when I think of the idea of a…future of this, of us, I do not picture anything but being with you and that is enough for me. More than enough, really.” He smiled, softly, fighting the constant berating he felt on the inside, the deprecation his mind begged to unleash.

Madi’s giddy laugh broke him out of those trenches, his excited and eager attention immediately making her tuck her face into the pillow, keeping it there until Gale scooped a finger under her chin and lovingly brought her shy and blushing gaze to his.

“Sorry—”

“I would happily hear that noise for the rest of my life,” Gale whispered, feeling an overwhelming, desperate, need to fiercely love and protect the woman he held in his arms.

“I don’t wish to say how long I have waited for this moment…not even knowing if it would ever come…I love you.”

“I love you too,” Gale spoke softly, “and never apologize for it. I would much prefer if you told me what I did to cause,” he drew his lips to her exposed ear, “such a heavenly sound.” Gale whispered, feeling his deep desire force his body to lean into his urges until he felt how hot Madi’s skin was, becoming instantly reminded of why he needed to be restrained.

“My appolo—” Madi placed a finger over his lips, Gale’s eyes drawn to look at her, seeing her breathe heavily, her skin glistening from the sweat of her fever—a detail Gale was trying very hard not to pay attention to so he could maintain his restraint.

“When we return to Waterdeep, we can nest within your tower and not leave the bed or balcony for a week, and we can live a lifetime of you whispering naughty things in my ear.” Gale huffed a laugh, caught off guard once more by her promises and how they made his heart and mind race. Stealing another moment for himself to look upon her beauty, admiring what he had foolishly overlooked for years, he couldn’t help but speak his regrets.

“How different things would have been if I had stopped searching elsewhere for the meaning I was lacking in life.” He thought out loud, knowing perfectly well he wouldn’t have this orb orthis tadpole, and Madi wouldn’t be in her current condition; facing whatever peril lay ahead of her. Madi simply shook her head in response and disbelief.

“You always had a flare for the dramatics.” She teased him, Gale smiling, knowing he had no defence to such truths. “Besides…this way we can save each other and have a story worthy of being written about.” Gale frowned, knowing Madi meant to be lighthearted but the notion only reminded him of three important and serious things: what he suspected the magic and power that festered within her was, how it connected to whatever she had planned with his orb, and how he was utterly terrified he wouldn’t be powerful enough to help her, stop her or save her.

But for right now he needed to be strong for her, needed to show her that he would save her from whatever peril she had ahead of her, whether he believed it himself or not. Gale smiled, drawing his face to hers once more.

“Then let us make sure it’s a gloriously romantic tale with a happy ending for the intrepid lovers, shall we?” He proposed to Madi, a small peck to her lips, pulling back to only see her lovingly smiling at him, a newly seen brightness behind her eyes.

“I like the sound of that.” She told him before tugging on his beard to pull his face back to hers.

~X~

They had managed to get back to the temple without issue, Karlach carrying Madi out of the protection of Lights Inn while still weak and sickly but, as previously stated, Madi’s fever was gone within an instant.

No longer was Shar trying to take control of her, to steal her mind and leave her body an empty husk of a follower—another to join the shadows, and a detail Madi ensured to withhold from her companions.

On their journey there, Madi explained how the Nightsong was not an idol but a person, an immortal, a daughter of Selûne and who is the source of Ketheric’s immortality, and how his reign allowed the continuation of the curse. She also informed Shadowheart that her goddess would task her with the same thing she tasked Madi with—to kill the immortal.

The fact that Shar had requested this task of more than one was not lost on many of their companions, or that Madi seemed to understand a great amount of intricate details related to the curse, Ketheric and the Nightsong. Within this explanation, it was understandable that Shadowheart was quick to dismiss the coincidence that would make her mission unimportant, claiming this was her destiny and that her lady called out to her here.

“Your lady calls to all in this land that will listen, ordering them all to do one thing: Kill the Nightsong. Ketheric demands it, her shadows hunger for it, you hear it.” Madi had told Shadowheart, seeing immediately a splinter in her belief and faith. It was not something Madi relished in, coming between someone and their god—despite what her past with Gale may attest.

But Madi heard the whispers of the shadows, heard the tales that the souls carried, and she knew Shadowheart was no more special to Shar than the next follower seeking her gaze and favour.

Thankfully she was able to convince Shadowheart of this truth long enough to temper her need to act hastefully upon meeting the Nightsong, long enough to allow a conversation between the immortal and Shadowheart that left her doubting and defying beliefs altogether.

It felt wrong to be grateful for such a thing, but it made what Madi had to do next a lot easier.

“Now, we free you,” Shadowheart announced, walking towards the immortal but Madi stepped in her way.

“Before that happens, there’s…one last thing,” Madi told the group yet she looked at Gale.

“I suspected as much.” Gale calmly explained which gave reason as to why he had been acting so strangely up until now, like every word or action of Madi’s was to be observed and added into an equation he was running in his mind. All this truth did now was beg the question of what he had figured out this far.

No matter what it may be, Madi felt that she needed to act as if he had not figured out her entire plan, yet.

“I knew you wouldn’t let me get to this point if I had told you.” She admitted to him, wracked with the guilt of her lies yet she knew it was the right thing to do. Gale only nodded, accepting her words, reaffirming that being a truth he had already established. “Please just listen Gale—I know I don’t have the right to ask…” Madi’s speech slowed as she watched Gale’s gaze soften.

“You have every right, you waited long enough for me, I can exercise patience.”

“That’ll be a first.” Shadowheart said with a bratty sneer before there was an audible thud and ‘oof’ from her, followed by a hushed ‘shut it’ from Karlach.

“I read the texts that your orb came from…” Madi continued but hesitated at how much she should tell him, “I know what it is Gale and it will destroy you…one way or another, its power will destroy the man who stands in front of me. I couldn’t leave it to a goddess who asks you to blow yourself up to fix it.”

“She does it—”

“I know why she does it, Gale!” Madi interjected, Gale immediately dropping his head into a shallow nod of agreement, his habit of defending his goddess a hard one to still break. Madi sighed, calming herself before continuing, “I understand her reasoning better than you do.” She pointedly cut at him, trying hard to hold her tongue at the real reason Mystra wished the orb to be destroyed and how she cared not about Gale’s life to do it—to remove the threat.

“Elminster explained to me, unintentionally, how Mystra was planning to use the Weave to sustain your orb and…theoretically, to destroy it, so—”

“You theorized what could be done with the Shadow Weave.” Gale completed, his eyes and voice carrying the shock of a lifetime until his expression twisted into one of fear and pain. “Madi…no! Nothing good could—”

“It’s too late Gale, I made my deal and she will kill me if I don’t make my end of the bargain happen. Either it’s the Nightsong or I that are leaving this place, Gale, but not both and…I, uh…” Madi’s voice quivered as she hesitated to say the last truth she needed to say, the truth that would cause her to act quickly before being banished from the realm of the goddess she was about to cross and betray.

Gale reached out to Madi who flinched at his touch, both of them shocked at her response.

Madi was scared, scared of what she was about to do, scared that a single touch from the man she loved would dissolve her courage and have her back away from the corner she had walked herself into.

“I need you to promise me a few things, right now Gale.” She hotly demanded, knowing she had to just rush into the perilous end she faced. Madi just needed to hear from him the words that would fortify her nerves.

“Madi, I—”

“Promise me, Gale!” Madi closed her eyes, unable to look at Gale’s twisted expression of concern and burgeoning distress.

“Okay!” Gale exclaimed, clearly wishing to calm her panic while his own continued to rise. “Whatever you ask.”

“Promise you won’t abandon me, you won’t forget about me…that you will try to save me.” Madi’s eyes opened to finally look at him, glimmering as her silent tears reliably returned to her. Gale softly took a step towards her, lightly reaching a loving hand towards her cheek.

“Madi—”

“Promise me!” Madi forcefully continued, knowing that she couldn’t stop, that she was growing weaker by the second out of fear of what she was about to do, what she was about to endure, but knowing she had to do it to free Gale from Mystra’s grasp. “You’ll return to me as you are,” she gripped onto his robes, her eyes frantic and wide as they searched Gale’s, “not Gale of Waterdeep, not Gale of something else, just Gale Dekarios the mortal man whom I have recklessly loved for far too long.”

Madi sputtered a laugh, her tears spraying from her mouth, Gale's cheeks glistening their tear trails as he silently watched Madi, waiting until he was sure she was finished.

“I promise you all of that and the world,” Gale whispered, seamlessly cupping her entire face within his hands only to bring them so close to each other their noses almost touched. “You will never leave my heart for a second. Every step I take, every thought I have, will be to get back to you, I swear it.” He promised, sealing his words with a kiss that was meant to hold a thousand love letters, a thousand moments of professed feelings of longing and sickening want, a promise of a thousand moments and more to come after their time apart. Madi’s whole world shook with the weight and the force behind his intentions, behind the way Gale held her, kissed her, and promised her an endless amount of devotion.

“Elminster has the other one of these,” Madi told Gale through a snotty inhale as they finally parted from the other, “or, well, had the other one. Here,” she added, dropping the ring into his hand, “I won’t be able to respond but I will be able to at least hear you.” Gale slowly clasped his hand over the ring before looking up at Madi.

“I will tell you about my every day.” He swore to her before his eyes softened and he slowly gave her a sad smile. “I promise.” Madi couldn’t help but return the smile.

“Very good, then, with that matter settled…there is just one last part that I need you all to agree upon,” Madi announced, opening herself up to stand in a space where she could look at everyone, Gale, his companions, as well as the Nightsong. “I can’t have you lift the Shadow Curse—”

Voices erupted from all sides, immediately drowning her out. Shadowheart getting heated as to why she sacrificed her faith, Halsin booming his immediate disagreement, Nightsong furious that she wasn’t going to be released.

“Let her speak!” Gale boomed, silencing them all into a hushed stillness before he turned to her with the softest smile of encouragement.

“I can’t have you lift the Shadow Curse right away. I need some time but I promise this land will be allowed to regrow and flourish, Ketheric will not be left immortal and you will be free, Nightsong.” Madi finished, turning to the immortal. “I just…need a few minutes between you being freed and when you can leave…and protection from whatever may come to try to stop me but once I—once I do what I need to, I will be able to protect you.”

Madi waited a moment until she saw Tav, Karlach, Halsin, Wyll and Gale nod at her, enough for her to know she would be safe to proceed. Sealing her fate, Madi reached back and placed a hand on the Nightsong, the seal holding her immediately releasing, while Madi just smiled at Gale weakly, pulling him towards her with her other free hand.

“I understand why Mystra made her rules,” Madi softly told Gale as she brushed some of his hair back behind his ear with the hand that had just freed the immortal. She could tell by the way Gale watched her that it was too late for her to be deceptive, he knew what she planned to do, but by how closely he stood to her, it was evident he didn’t know how. “Power like this shouldn’t be left to mortals who act upon the heart and not the mind.”

Madi brought her lips to Gale’s one last time, lingering in the touch as she slid one foot backwards and over the ward on the floor. Slowly her hand traced his scar from his eye, down his neck and only when her hand rested over his heart did Gale pull his lips away from hers yet found his body bound to her hand.

“The good thing about people like us, Gale, is that we are born sorcerers with a wizard’s training,” slowly the space around them lost the black and purple hue to fill with the pale green that Madi’s magic now appeared in. “We’re blessed with the ability to house, hold, comprehend and create terrible amounts of power,” Madi added, her eyes remaining closed.

The flame that was seared into Gale’s skin floated off of him only to slowly coil around Madi’s flesh, snaking up her arm but, unlike Gale, the lines continued to swirl over her entire body. Only when there was just a circle in her chest left of unmarked skin did her eyes fly open, glowing the green hue of her magic, demonic incantations sprouting from her lips.

Shadows appeared around them, the glyphs that once held Selûne’s daughter now filling with Madi’s magic. Gale’s friends sprung to action alongside the aasimar to protect Madi, as she had requested. Yet Gale could only watch in horror, even after the bond between them was severed, even as he watched the blindingly bright orb she held in her hand get placed into her body.

He could not think, could not move, only watch, slack-jawed, as he observed the woman he loved let out an infernal roar until the ward flared with magical energy and the shadows around them disappeared in an instant.

Silence lingered for a moment, Gale’s friends and the Nightsong looking around before turning to the two of them, Gale still watching Madi while looking completely helpless. Madi panted, trying to recover for a brief moment as she knew barely had a minute left.

“It was the Karsite Weave, Gale—Mystra wanted you to destroy yourself so she could destroy it,” Madi called out to him, feeling the final stages of her spell take effect. She knew she didn’t have enough time to explain it all and could see by the way Gale watched her, he had far too many questions.

“How—”

“No, Gale, listen! I—agh!” Madi groaned out in pain as her entire body went stiff and the feeling in her legs was completely gone. By the shock on everyone’s faces, she knew she was starting to turn to stone. “I combined it, Gale—listen!” She commanded his eyes back from her stoney form. “Shadow and Karsite, inside—ngh!” Another sharp pain and she felt nothing below her neck. “Check your tower! Tara—”

Madi was frozen, cast in stone, yet still conscious only by the magic that now commanded this pocket realm within Shar’s Domain, that coursed through her chest and the ward that kept her in place. Pale green magic still pulsed and illuminated in the swirls that creased her stone form. Unable to move or respond, she watched as Gale looked at her, absolutely gutted by what he saw.

She watched as his companions scurried behind him, pleading with him to move quickly to get back to Ketheric, but he shrugged them off while slowly putting on the ring Madi gave him, raising it to his lips to send a short message.

“I love you…never forget that, okay?”

Even encased in stone, Madi was flooded with pain at the inability to say it back to him, yet so happy to know he was finally without chains to Mystra. Those surges of emotions resulted in a swell of magic flaring up from the ward on the floor, a tendril licking under Gale’s chin, leaving him with a lighthearted chuckle.

“I’ll take that as a promise.”

And then he left, not to return for years, but that wasn’t something Madi was aware or knowledgeable of at this moment. All she could do, and would do, was wait, stuck in her stone form, feeling the aching pain of this morphed weave she bastardized for her singular purpose using her body as a conduit.

Yet she would grow immensely grateful for every short message of ‘I love you’ or ‘thinking of you’ that Gale would send frequently throughout every day leading up to their reunion, along with the nightly recounting of his day, even the ‘disastrously mundane’ ones—as Gale would come to call them.

Those became her favourite to hear about.

Tag list: @fangbangerghoul, @bearlytolerant, @endersnailz ♥ Hope you all enjoyed ♥

A/N:I have it planned to do short little ficlet, 1 to 2k fics of Gale's recounting to Madi as he continues his adventures in the main storyline and then him finding his way back to Madi. It will be slightly on the backburner and will be for when I just need some fluff and Gale silliness as I was blessed with an absolute brain rot of a Professor Dekarios PwP series that I am about to obsessively dive into ♥

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale x oc #gale bg3 #gale romance #baldurs gate 3 #gale fanfic #gale dekarios fanfic #booburry writes

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