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bahrtofane · 8 days

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Promises under the stars - Jude ending

Part 1

Part 1 - Jude pov

Part 2

Long awaited happy ending I TOLD U I WOULD DO IT SEE. pretty plz read part 2 before this i’m begging plz plzlplzpzlzpzlzpzl

—

Word count - 2.2k+

Watch it - MORE DIVORCE WOWOW. Carlos is so mean in this one sorreh.

Guys this feels like the end of an era like I’m so sad to see it end this was a JOURNEY

——-

Things change. As most things do, life moves on.

Jude remains in the back of your mind. After years of working away from the laughs that taunt you in the wind.

It comes back to him.

Your husband takes a back seat and Jude once again becomes the man who’s at the forefront of your mind.

While you’re pregnant with Carlos’s baby you thumb through pictures of Jude. Funny isn’t it. So funny you want to rip your own hair out.

You don’t know if it’s your own behavior that sparks a change but there’s a shift.

After the second altercation with Jude, things change. Carlos does less talking and more observing. He asks you to share your location at all times and you have no qualms. Not at first.

But it begins to get to much.

Where are you going, who are you with. What are you doing. Come home. Do you have to go out. No don’t go. Don’t do this. Don’t do that.

You half think it’s because of the baby and he’s simply worried for the both of you. It’s his fatherly nature kicking in.

But there’s a breaking point and it comes when you come home on a Sunday night.

——

“Hey baby.” You smile, setting down your little shopping spree for the baby. Just a few essentials. Blankets and bottles.

He doesn’t return your greeting. Head down in silence while he stares at the wall.

“Where were you?”

You frown, “not this again-“

“No. You keep going off to places without letting me know first I thought we talked about this.” he hisses.

You lean against the counter. ”I stopped to get a little snack?”

He shrugs. “You could have waited till you got home.”

You scoff. ”i'm pregnant Carlos, most things can't wait. You know how it is.”

”I don’t even know who you are anymore.” He mumbles.

“What did you say?”

He stands, facing you with brows furrowed. “Ever since Jude you keep running off. Are you seeing him?”

”Are you crazy?”

”i dont know look at how you’re acting. I’ve given you everything, and you keep sneaking off.”

”Im pregnant with your child for fucks sake and you think im with another man?”

”I’m not sure if its even my child anymore. Funny how he turned up again when you started to show.”

Your skin bristles. ”I’m going to give you a chance to take it back Carlos or else.”

”or what? You’ll go back to him? Maybe I should go and knock someone else up so you can know what it feels like.” his voice raises to a yell.

That’s just the thing isn’t it. Yo already know what it feels like. You watched it happen with Jude and now he accuses you of the very thing that almost drove you mad.

Tears burn in your eyes. You don't stick around for any more, taking your keys and walking to the door.

“Don’t you dare leave. You leave and you won’t see me ever again do you hear me. “ he screams, finger pointed at you.

You look back for a moment. Gone is the Carlos you love and replaced with this beast that hurls insults and accusations. You walk out, driving away to anywhere, anywhere at all as long as its away from him.

Your second heart break comes from Jude just like the first. Only this time indirectly and crumbles a marriage you once treasured more than anything.

You can't face his family. Certainly not his mother. Not after this.

——-

You go back to your families home. Back in your home town.

It shocks them, how you turn up at their door. You drove the whole way back, just like you did leaving.

Your mother cries for you and you don't have the heart to explain your end in full.

You’re due in about 3 months. And your days and filled with sorrow. You try you best. You know it’s not good for the baby. It’s a girl you find out. Carlos always wanted a girl. You try you really do but things are near impossible on your own.

You get a call from his mother, appolgizes tumbling from her tongue. Pleading with you for forgiveness. She tells you there’s always a spot for you in her home. If you’d like you can move in. They’ll take care of you here.

You thank her between sniffles but you say you don’t know. You just need time.

You’re nearing a breaking point yourself.

——-

Time is running out for you to make sense of things.

You miss Carlos, or well you miss the Carlos you once loved. The man who bought you a home just because he could and he listened to you.

The man who was so sure of loving you.

The only thing he seems sure of is pretending you don’t exist.

Maybe if you would have just taken Jude back when he first came to you

——-

Jude hears. Or course he does.

He promised himself to stop meddling in your life. To stop keeping up with you and just leave you alone. But when news reaches him. A piece of him breaks.

It’s his fault isn’t it. You had a home. A life. A marriage, a husband and very soon a little family.

There he goes again, ruining it.

He finds your contact info and it lays in his phone, u able to bring himself to press call. What buisness does he have in your life anymore truly.

What more can he do, say, feel?

The fields have long burned, only ash and ember in their wake. And still he recognizes them in a heartbeat. He knows you will too. For he knows you.

How can he apologize in a language you’ll understand?

——

You get a call from an unknown number while you leave another appointment. Same old same old, try to relax stress isn’t good for the baby blah blah blah. If you could relax you would but it isn’t that easy isn’t it.

You pick up before looking properly and a familiar voice comes to life. Jude.

He can’t stay away it seems. He can’t leave you on your own.

“I heard what happened. I’m so sorry. If I knew i would have never-“

”its okay Jude.” You sigh. ”its not your fault. He just- changed and it scared me so bad.”

His voice hasn’t changed all that much, just a tad deeper.

You don’t blame him. You’ve forgiven him for everything. There’s a million ways Carlos could have handled things and he chose to blame you for it all. Choose the path of accusation. That is no one’s fault but his own.

“Do you need help?” Timid. Hesitant.

You pause. What else do you have to loose. The very least you need to figure something out for your baby.

You don’t have friends close enough to call up. Not even friends when you think about it. Acquaintances at best.

You consider taking up Carlos’s mother on the offer. Your baby would be well taken care of. Brought up in luxury and comfort. Nothing would ever be more than a stone's throw away.

But you run the risk of seeing him again. And you know if he were to find out it would create a whole other problem.

Your savings will cover 2 years max if you really stretch them out. And you know your parents cant keep you under their roof forever. You do need help. But you don’t know how to ask. How to accept.

He picks up on your silence. “No string attached I promise I just-“ he takes a deep breath, “- I can't do nothing. Not when you’re going through everything that you are. “

”Thank you Jude.” You sniffle. Tears forming in your eyes while you look into the sky.

——-

Jude sends movers to help you move your things into an apartment by the end of the week. All you have to do is get into your car and follow. You need to do something about the car. Its technically under your name. The one he got you as a gift.

You feel so out of lace in it. Maybe you’ll sell it. If not for the money to erase any traces of him for good.

Jude visits you the following week.

He’s grown. Oh how hes grown. A man now. He gives you the spare keys with a small smile. No red ribbon.

“Its set for a years rent and all. No need to worry. I figured you’d want to stay near your family so.”

You give him a hug, unable to stop yourself. Even if your belly makes it awkward he wraps his arms around you. He’s smiling.

“I cant thank you enough.” You’re crying again. Tears pooling in your eyes.

He helps you sit down on the couch, giving you his arm to steady yourself on. “Hey hey. It’s alright. I got you. No need to thank me.”

”why did you come?” you mumble. Hand still on his.

“I think you know the answer to that.” He picks at his pants.

”After all this time you still do?” You still love me?

“I never stoped. I told you as much.”

You nod. “Thank you again anyway.”

”Call me if you need anything. There's a chauffeur I use when I’m in the area. I'll give you his info too. Whatever you go give him a call. Or if you need any shopping done he’ll take care of it.”

”Are you sure?”

He smiles, “more than sure. Go rest now you’ve had a long week.”

———

You only hear from Carlos when he sends the divorce papers. You dont think twice. Signing them and sending them off to his lawyers.

His only request is to see his baby. You refuse at first but his lawyers are firm. So you come to an agreement one weekend at the end of every month. Starting when you recover.

You end up keeping the car.

You want nothing else from him. Just to never see him again. You can’t accept any apology after the way he disrespected you.

You mean it. More than you meant it with Jude.

——

Jude ends up coming to appointments when hes in town. You don’t know how it happens. But he goes. Holding your hand and letting you lean on him every step of the way. You never say no. In a way you need him. In many ways you do.

It’s familiar. Being with Jude. You slip back into old habits and he never corrects you. Just gives you a tight smile.

Every break he spends with you and within an instant the baby comes. Carlos is not allowed anywhere near you. You name her after your favorite flower and give her your last name.

She’s your whole world. You can barely hold back your sobs when they hand her over to you.

Jude drives you home from the hospital and skips pre season training to be with you.

He helps you with her and for a moment it's like this is the ending you always dreamed of. A glimpse of what could have been. If you only ignore that it’s Carlos’s child, you are not with Jude and you’re closer to his pity case than his lover. But you can dream.

——

“She’s crying again.” Jude mumbles, woken up from her cries.

He’s been sleeping on the couch. To make it easier for the both of you.

You groan, picking her up gently and trying to get her back to sleep. Nothing works her cries only get louder and you are on your last straw.

“Jude can you come here.”

He pads to your room, opening the door meekly as you stand with her in your arms. “Can you hold her while I make her bottle please.”

He nods, opening his arms while you gently set her in his arms. She fits in his embrace like she was made for it.

You come back with a bottle to your baby softly sleeping agaisnt his chest. Little cheeks snug agaisnt him while she breaths softly.

You mouth a silent thank you and let him out her back inside her crib. Tucking her under her blanket and giving her a little pat to the head.

You could get used to this.

——

You fall for Jude once more. As your little girl turns one you find a rhythm with him. She even calls him dad. You never correct her. There’s no need. He does all a father would and more.

Carlos drops from her life before she can even walk. You don’t care.

You make the trip to Spain yearly so she can meet her grandparents at the very least. This isn’t their fault. You hold nothing against them. His mother blames herself for her sons actions and you know nothing you say will change it.

Jude retires before he can turn 35. And you marry. Nothing outlandish. Just you and him and your baby at the court house.

You get ice cream on the way home and watch her favorite movies till she falls asleep.

“We made it back to each other in the end. “ He kisses your lips. Soft. Gentle.

You hum, pressing yourself closer against him. “Always you and me.”

The promises you made under the stars have found you after all. In your own home with your baby you love more than anything. Raising her and walking through life hand in hand. Even after everything, you don’t think anyone else would come back for you. Fight for you the way Jude has.

Your peace has come.

#jude x reader #jude x you #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham one shot #jude fluff #jude bellingham headcanons #jude bellingham x y/n #jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham fic #carlos sainz x reader

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kiy-anna · 1 year

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Am I Feeling Love?

Part 1 (You Are Here) Part 2 Part 3a Part 3b

Characters: Azul Ashengrotto x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: From the moment Azul Ashengrotto heard of soulmates as a small child, he had a vision of a beautiful life with someone who was meant for him - regardless of what he was or would become…

Word count: 5.3k+

Warnings: Some Yandere elements

Notes: I wanted to thank @yanderloversworld on tumblr for the yandere!Azul w/ Soulmate S/O headcanons/backstory that I saw for inspiring this piece. I’ve never written anything like this before, but I wanted to give my hand at it - especially since it involves my favorite cecaelia character from twisted Wonderland. You can check it out here: https://www.tumblr.com/yandereloversworld/718766985773760512/yanazul-with-a-soulmate-so?source=share

The two songs used to inspire this story:

Am I Feeling Love? (The Thief and the Cobbler/Arabian Knight Soundtrack): https://youtu.be/NXYnClTZ4QY

One Day She'll Love Me (The Emperor's New Groove Soundtrack): https://youtu.be/8Sv3ECj7PdY

***I have an update! Part 2 now Available to read on my side blog @ashensgrotto***

***

I close my eyes and see his eyes

So soft and warm and clear

I dream awake of holding her

I dream that she’s right here

I sense in all his silences

More than his words could say

‘Don’t fight your feelings’ says my heart

A heart I will obey

***

“Azul… we need to talk.”

The sound of his mother’s broken voice pulled Azul’s attention to the larger cecaelia as all eight of his tiny tentacles stilled, each and every one of his appendages dropping an assortment of books, quills, and shells to the grotto’s floor as the silver-lavender haired boy looked upon his mother. The typically confident cecaelian now appeared scared and upset; her pale baby blue eyes were wide with worry and her ruby lips were set in a straight line - her heavy-set body swayed with the current that entered their home while her black-colored tentacles fidgeted nervously, the lavender underbelly of each appendage curling into itself repeatedly before releasing its grip on emptiness.

Azul stood, his own appendages curling inward, “Can this wait, momma? I’m very busy at the moment-”

“I’m afraid it can’t, baby,” his mother entered his room before perching herself on his bed, tapping the seafoam cushion, “come here.”

Azul sat beside his mother, looking down at his hands before looking up at his mother, who watched him with interest.

“Zully… the neighbors have told me they’ve seen you sneaking out at night,” his mother spoke quietly, “and it has been apparently going on for a while - without my knowledge. You and I both know that night is a terrible time to be going out, especially alone - you’re smart enough to know that you could’ve been seriously injured or killed by the creatures that lurk just beyond the reef of our city. Do you know how heartbroken I would be if I lost you?”

“I know, momma… but, I promise I have a good reason!”

“What good reason would you have for sneaking out in the middle of the night?”

“My soulmate.”

His mother looked taken back, her hand reaching to clutch the Nautilus shell necklace that rested on her collarbones as her already wide eyes widened further, “...S-Soulmate?”

“Yes!” Azul’s powder-blue eyes sparkled like gems in a treasure chest as a huge grin spread across his features, “I overheard some of the merkids talking about them at school a few weeks ago - o-of course I had initially thought they were talking about me, since I seem to come up in conversation here and there… but still! Oh, momma! To know that there’s someone out there that is literally MEANT to be WITH ME! Me! Azul Ashengrotto!”

“Zully, now wait a minute-”

“At first the concept did fascinate me,” Azul continued, slowly standing and moving to the opposite end of his room while ignoring his mother’s words, “and what intrigued me more than anything was that my soulmate would love and cherish every last thing about me - not the way the other merkids see me as; a pathetic, fat… ugly crying octopus fry that can’t even excel in studies or athletics. The silly little octo-twerp that’s an ink spiller.”

“Zully, you know that’s not-”

“But you know what momma? Thinking about my soulmate has made the days so much easier, even when I’m getting bullied - I think about them seeing what those other merkids are doing and they put a stop to it, saying things like, ‘Leave Azul alone! He’s not a pathetic little octo-twerp!’” Azul turned to his mother again, his tentacles writhing with excitement, “So, to be ready to meet them, I’ve been working to increase my knowledge - I want to be so powerful like the great Sea Witch herself that my soulmate will know who I am by sight alone! I’ve studied every book I could get my hands on and have memorized every single potion recipe there is available - even learning how to improve its effects and prolong them even! I’ve even studied every law text there is in the Atlantica public library - I have every law memorized word for word.”

His mother sighed, running a hand through her silvery locks, the motions creating little bubbles that appeared as she let out a sigh, “Azul, there’s something you should know-”

“As for the sneaking out,” Azul continued, throwing his hands behind his back as his fingers twisted together while he rocked back and forth on the edges of his eight appendages, “I was searching for my soulmate. I don’t know if they are here in the Coral Sea or not-”

“Azul, please listen to me-”

“But I wanted to see if I could find them. The first few nights after learning about their existence, I was having trouble sleeping - so I started doing a short swim to clear my head. I promise I wasn’t going too far away from the house! However, on those walks, it got me thinking that maybe instead of sleeping, I should be searching for them. There was no better use of my time than to strive for a better life with someone who must sense my loneliness like I sensed theirs…”

“...If they weren’t so rare, baby.”

Azul snapped to attention, his eyes wide, “W-What?”

His mother rested one hand on her knees while the other rubbed at her forehead, “Zully, I know and understand your longing to belong and to have a friend - trust me, I’ve been there. However, you can’t fixate on a single being that you hope to encounter at some point in your life. Finding that so-called ‘other half’ is like - well - like the story of the mermaid princess and her longing to be with a human. It’s a rare occurrence that only happens once in a millennium if not longer. Many times, people - humans, fae, and merfolk alike - often settle for someone they are content and happy with, someone that isn’t their other half.”

Azul stared in shock, inky tears threatening to spill down his chubby cheeks, as his hands balled into fists, “No! No! That isn’t true! What about you and daddy when he was alive?! Both of you were soulmates!”

“No we weren’t… At least, I don’t think we were,” Azul’s mother came forward, resting a hand gingerly on her son’s shoulder, “Anyone can be happy with or without their soulmate, Azul. There’s no reason you should go to such lengths to be with someone who may not even exist. You may not even meet them in this lifetime, either…”

“THAT’S NOT TRUE!” Azul pushed her away, anger bubbling up as his tentacles writhed in anger, his vision becoming blurry as ink spilled down his face as he snapped at his mother and guardian, “HOW DARE YOU!? You DON’T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT the CONNECTION BETWEEN SOULMATES! THEY FEEL AS I FEEL! THAT CONNECTION IS WHAT MAKES US UNIQUE!! An UNBREAKABLE BOND that CAN NEVER BE SEVERED!! And how DARE you CHEAT on your OWN SOULMATE!”

“Azul! Now wait a minute!” his mother raised her voice, “I’ve been around the bend a few more times than you have and know about these sorts of things. I WILL NOT ALLOW this behavior to continue in my house!”

“Fine! Then I’ll leave!”

“Azul! Where are you going?! Azul!!”

But the little cecaelia was gone, swimming as fast as he could away from his mother’s typically loving embrace.

‘How could she?!’ he mind was running as he sped up to get further and further away from his home, ‘How could she say that? Why momma… why?!’

He was sniffing hard when he arrived at his hidden octopot, big ugly fat tears of black rolling down his chubby cheeks while mucus dribbled down his nose, running into his open mouth as he gasped out big grotesque sobs. He pulled himself along enough to climb into the pot, his appendages pulling him into the confined space as comfort slowly surrounded his shaking form. One tentacle came forward, wiping at the tears in his eyes as Azul allowed his hearts to calm down.

He wrapped his arms around himself as he looked out into the darkness of the Coral Sea; the pale moonlight reflected off the caverns that surround Azul’s hiding spot, the water growing colder and colder with each passing hour as several sea creatures passed over - not that Azul noticed though. Normally, he would have been interested in what creatures came out at night - but the words his mother spoke forced a jolt of pain on all three of his hearts.

“You can’t fixate on a single being that you hope to encounter at some point in your life,” her words echoed in his mind over and over, “Finding that so-called ‘other half’ is like - well - like the story of the mermaid princess and her longing to be with a human. It’s a rare occurrence that only happens once in a millennium if not longer. Anyone can be happy with or without their soulmate, Azul. There’s no reason you should go to such lengths to be with someone who may not even exist…”

‘What if she’s right?’ he thought, his tentacles tightening around his body, ‘What if I never find them? What if they think the same way she does? What if… what if they’ve already been taken from me?!’

His eyes narrowed as a darkness slowly filled them, glaring out into the cruel twisted world from the darkness of his octopot. No, even if his soulmate was already claimed he would’ve known - he would know if they were, he’d felt it; the tangling of another soul within his if his other half were to be mated to another without his consent. However, that hadn’t happened yet.

…for now.

Azul curled deeper into himself, his thoughts growing darker and darker as he made plans to continue his search for his other half; his beloved soulmate. He wouldn’t give up the search, even if he died trying. He wanted to see them; see what they looked like and to hear their sweet voice, to feel a sense of belonging… to protect what was rightfully his.

***

I'd never imagined before that the world could be turned on its head

I'd never have thought to be here in this place

I'd never have dreamt that in love I'd be lost and so easily led

I guess I was caught by that hint of a smile on her face

***

“Azul-chan, are we almost finished here?” a figure on the cecaelian’s left muttered, “I’m bored.”

“Floyd,” the figure on Azul’s right spoke up, murmuring and pressing a finger to his lips, “There are still some students that need to be housed. Just be a little bit more patient.”

“Speaking of which,” Azul eyed the two carefully, “Any news from our sources, Jade?”

“It’s rather difficult to track down something when we ourselves don’t know what we’re looking for,” the second figure - Jade - answered softly, “A description usually helps in these circumstances, Azul.”

“Perhaps,” the cecaelian shrugged indifferently, “however, it’s hard to pinpoint exactly what I’m looking for, myself.”

The two second-in-commands looked at each other, confusion crossing their features.

Ten years had passed slowly since that terrible day when Azul’s mother planted the first seeds of doubt into her son’s head, her chiding and the doubts never leaving him completely. However, that did not stop him from continuing his search for his other half - exhausting himself beyond belief. By the time Azul was twelve - nearly five years following his discovery of the existence of soulmates - he had searched every crevice of the Coral Sea with no luck; it was also around this time that he met the Leech twins - Floyd and Jade.

Jade was the oldest of the two by a few minutes and was very resourceful as well as very soft-spoke and courteous; his younger brother, Floyd, on the other hand was unpredictable due to his mood swings - he could be interested in one thing one minute and grow bored of it the next. The two moray mers had come across Azul during his younger days when they were in the same class together, watching with awe as his eight appendages hovered about his hidden grotto, writing inscriptions on shells and flipping through pages of grimoires. Originally, they weren’t sure what to make of him, but now that they knew about his capabilities from stories they heard about someone granting wishes for a price - the two were now invested in keeping Azul close to their sides.

And vice versa.

Eventually, the question of why he was doing it came up; Azul took the time to explain the story about how he had first learned about soulmates and how he had been searching the past five years for his, eventually coming to the conclusion that his other half was nowhere in the Coral Sea.

“I have searched every nook and cranny of these waters and have yet to find them,” Azul explained, pouring ingredients into a cauldron as he spoke, “Thus, I’m ‘using my resources’ to spread out the search for my other half.”

“So, some of your deals include gathering any information about a particular person whom you’ve never met nor spoken to?” Jade asked, very intrigued by Azul’s train of thought.

“Hah… sound boring,” Floyd chimed in, reclining atop of one of the rocks in the grotto.

“It’s more interesting than it sounds,” Azul answered, popping a cork off a bottle and dumping the contents into the cauldron as the liquid turned from pale pink to eerie green, “besides, the sooner I find them, the better off they’ll be. However, the problem here lies that if they’re not in the Coral Sea - then where are they?”

Neither of the twins could supply an answer.

It was also around this time that Azul’s appearance had also changed. Baby fat melted and hardened into muscle while his gut and belly dissolved into toned skin, chubby cheeks evolved into high cheekbones; his face sharpening into arched brows, thin lips, and a pointed nose - though his eyes, now filled with knowledge and pride, remained the same. Gone was - in Azul’s opinion - the fat crying octo-twerp of his youth as a handsome, defined sea witch stood in his place; a perfect figure that his soulmate would be proud of once they set sights on him.

The dramatic weight-loss and muscle built scared, not only Jade and Floyd, but also his own mother - whom he did speak to on seldom occasions due to her connections as the owner of the Atlantica Grotto Bistro, which was slowly becoming a local hot spot and where Azul worked full time as a waiter and assistant manager. It was also where he would lure unsuspecting victims - mainly those from his youth or clients with means - into signing his newly-perfected golden contracts, sealing their powers away for his own in exchange for whatever it was that they wished for. Of course, Azul’s mother never suspected a thing about her son’s side business - now a bit preoccupied with the courtship of an older squid mer who had slowly made a presence in her life as well as teaching Azul the fundamentals of building his own business.

When Azul, Jade, and Floyd reached the age of sixteen, they were invited to attend Night Raven College - a boys’ prestigious school for young mages. Azul’s mother had been proud of Azul’s accomplishment and Azul, himself, was secretly thankful that he would be given the chance to explore a different world versus hearing things through the grape vines from his sources. It was during his first year of attending that he made a name for himself, following practically in his mother’s and the Sea Witch’s footsteps; he was now the headwarden and the owner of the Mostro Lounge that his dorm - Octavinelle - operated on the school property. He also was the student others went to when they needed help or had a wish that only he could grant. Jade and Floyd both helped as well, taking his place into luring potential clients into his clutches.

Now, the three of them were entering their second year at NRC - and Azul was barely hanging on by a thread. For the past year on land - thanks to the potion he created that would allow himself, Jade, and Floyd to attend the school as humans - Azul had used his network of informants to extend his search for his other half.

He never forgot the promise he made to continue his search for his soulmate - the contracts were just a starting point to his grand scheme for searching for the person who would love and cherish him as no other could. By building a name for himself, Azul essentially had been given enough money to spend as much as he pleased for information about any leads and his extensive network of informants were at his beck-and-call should he need them to snoop out any potential tips he heard. He had cleared out both Harveston during winter break the previous year and the Queendom of Roses as well as the Shaftlands the previous summer before he was summoned to return to Night Raven. Sunset Savanna would be next on his list during the winter break this year and he would attempt Briar Valley over the summer.

But even that wasn't soon enough it seemed.

Azul’s spirit was practically crying out with each failed search, lead, and tip - nearly to the point that his soul was exhausted and he found himself hearing his mother’s chiding words in his inner ear again. But he was stubborn - incredibly so; and he made plans before leaving his home city again to extend any knowledge to him from outside the school’s barriers.

Azul sighed as the last first year was placed into their dorm, forcing a smile as he addressed his new students, crossing his arms over his chest, "New students! I congratulate you on your achievement. As the dorm head of Octavinelle, I am honored to have the opportunity to support you in what I hope will be a fulfilling campus experience.”

"Hey, does anyone know where the headmage went?" Azul arched his brow as the dorm head of Pomefiore, Vil Schoenheit, spoke, “He disappeared midway through the ceremony…”

"Some headmage he is," Idia Shroud, the head of Ignihyde, grumbled from his tablet that hovered in the chamber.

"Maybe he had a tummy ache?" the ever naive dorm head of Scarabia - Kalim Al-Asim - asked with a shrug.

The doors burst open as the head mage himself appeared, shouting, "I most certainly did not!"

"Ah, speak of the devil," Riddle Rosehearts, the dorm head of Heartslabyul, grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

"If you must know," the headmage continued, pulling a cloaked figure along with him, their slender wrist tight in his grasp, "I was searching for the new student who failed to show for orientation. Come along, you are the only one who hasn't been assigned to a dorm - step up to the dark mirror and be quick about it. I'll hold onto your weasel."

Azul watched as the headmage pulled the figure along, causing them to stumble slightly, before he released them. The cloaked figure lifted their head, taking a tentative step towards the mirror as the headmage held tightly onto another being - a little gray cat creature with burning fire in his ears with eyes wider than saucer plates. Something about the shy figure had drawn Azul utmost attention as they stood before the dark mirror.

“State your name,” the mirror spoke, its voice deep and dark.

“I’m (Y/N),” you spoke, so quiet that everyone had to strain to hear them.

“(Y/N)... The nature of your soul is…” the dark mirror hesitated, narrowing its pitch-black eyes before announcing, “...unclear to me.”

“What did you just say?” the headmage crossed his arms over his chest as a murmur rippled through the crowd.

“I sense no magical power from this one,” the dark mirror answered, voice grim, “Soundless. Colorless. Shapeless. Utterly vacant… Therefore, no dorm would be appropriate.”

With his final answer, the headmage let out a cry, “Are you suggesting the black carriage went to recieve a person who cannot even use magic?! That is absurd! The student selection process has not erred once in its century of existence!”

As head headmage continued to squawk in surprise, Azul nearly felt his heart stop in his chest when you looked in his direction.

As soon as your eyes locked with his, Azul knew.

His soulmate was here.

You were a pretty (h/c) with tints of (f/c) weaved into locks that framed your soft features hidden under the black and gold hood of the ceremonial robe you wore, the exotic eyes of (e/c) filled with wonder and surprise - with an underlying hint of fear, likely due to the shock of being called ‘abnormal’ by a piece of looking-glass. You looked about a few inches shorter than him - a perfect height for him to rest his chin upon your head - as a pleasant pink painted your cheeks, turning them into red delicious apples that tempted Azul to take a bite, and your jaw dropped slightly, lips parting with surprise.

Azul knew that you could feel the strong connection between your two souls - the pull he had searched the past decade for finally presenting itself in the shape of you. He found himself unable to look away, staring at you with quiet longing and lovestruck clearly written across his features.

“Azul?” Jade snickered, “What is-”

“I think octy just found what he was lookin’ for, Jade,” Floyd snickered, his eyes shifting between the startled first-year and their lovestruck boss.

“I quite agree,” Jade’s voice came out sickly smooth as his eyes shifted between the three of them, “this has just gotten interesting…”

Azul hardly noticed though the twins’ snickers in his ears, his thoughts were already running wild with ideas of how he wanted to spoil you - his found other half, his precious mate.

The problem now was that you were a non-magic user and a female to boot - nevermind that you had just been put on display like an exotic animal. The whispers that echoed in the chamber forced you to look away from the lovestruck second-year, your body quivering with fear and unease as he himself was brought back to reality.

‘How DARE they insult her while in my presence?’ Azul felt a growl bubble up in the back of his throat, his pale blues shifting from the crowd to his mate to the headmage and back again as his hands curled into fists under the sleeves of his cloak, ‘And how DARE the dark mirror put (Y/N) in this situation!’

“Headwardens,” the headmage’s voice echoed in the chamber, silencing every whisper as he took control of the situation, “please escort your students back to the dorms as the orientation is now complete.”

“What about (Y/N)?” the voice of Coach Vargas spoke up, “Surely you are not expecting someone like her to remain here?”

‘And you’re first on the list of people who will suffer my wrath for saying something so hostile to my mate,’ Azul thought, thinking of what the best way would be to attack the coach indirectly.

“This is a most unfortunate turn of events, yes,” the headmage agreed, tapping his chin in thought, “Due to you being female and that you are a non-magic user, I’m afraid I cannot allow you to attend Night Raven College. You seem like an amicable young lady, however this is an all-boy’s school and I cannot admit a student - male or female - with no magical ability. But fear not, the dark mirror will see you safely home.”

‘NO! You CAN’T!’ Azul was barely holding himself together at this point - he had just found his soulmate and now the world wanted the two of them to be separated forever?! He would not allow it!

Before he could act on impulse, the mirror’s deep voice echoed in the chamber, “There is no such place.”

“What?!” Crowley squawked again as murmurs rose from the crowd yet again.

“There is no place in this world where this soul belongs,” the dark mirror answered again, “None.”

“H-How can that be?!” Crowley asked, his hands shaking with an inner rage, “My, but today is a veritable cavalcade of impossible phenomena! This has never happened throughout my long tenure. I must confess I am at something of a loss.”

Azul could sense the sadness radiating from his mate as well. Were you disappointed that you couldn’t return from wherever you had come from? And if so, why would you want to go back if now you knew of his existence?

Perhaps a little persuasion was needed…

Azul smiled darkly, before taking a step forward, clearing his throat, “Headmage Crowley, I understand that all of us are at a loss of what to do with our strange guest - however, may I offer a solution to our little problem?”

“Master Ashengrotto,” Headmage Crowley crossed his arms over his chest, “I’m not certain what you mean. We must send (Y/N) back to where they came from.”

“And how do you propose we do that?” Azul countered, shrugging while keeping his eyes trained on the headmage while he faked a painful look, “It is easy to return us to our homes, but we have no idea where she comes from - or if we can even get her back.”

“T-There must be a way though… right?” you spoke up, your eyes pleading with Azul’s.

“I hate to agree with Azul, but he’s right,” a tan-skinned, dark-haired figure spoke up, “If this herbivore is from another world entirely, the chances of getting them back are slim to none.”

“Leona is quite right on the money with that one,” Vil answered with a nod.

Azul smiled, knowing that the ripples of shock and disbelief were now falling onto the headmage for being incompetent in dealing with this matter. He couldn’t turn (Y/N) away now that Azul had spoken up with two additional dorm heads also taking his side.

“What do you propose then?” Headmage Crowley asked, eyeing the headwarden of Octavinelle uneasily.

“Octavinelle, as I’m sure you remember, has plenty of rooms for rent,” Azul answered, turning to (Y/N) with a reassuring smile, “As the dorm head, I will gladly take (Y/N) into my dorm where she can stay during her time here. If she’s agreeable, she can work within the Mostro Lounge to pay for a place to sleep and to have food in her belly.”

“I’m not sure, Master Ashengrotto…” Crowley spoke, rubbing his chin with a clawed gloved hand, “a single woman in a dorm filled with boys is highly improper…”

“Improper would be the term used for the predicament your so-called black carriage put you in,” Azul snipped, his eyes flashing dangerously at the headmage, “Besides - the rooms we rent are on the opposite side of the aquarium in our dorm, quite a ways away from the rooms the dorm members reside in for that particular purpose. We also have security within our dorm and I’m usually the one to deal with matters of… problematic nature.”

“Perhaps, however-”

“Consider it one less problem on your plate as well. If (Y/N) is brought to my dorm, I will take full responsibility for her - and I might be able to find a way to get her home in the process as well.”

“You what?” your eyes widen with hope, your hand reaching out and clasping the edge of his robe.

“I have an endless network of resources at my disposal, my dear - I can likely find you a quicker way to get home than you can with anyone else here,” Azul answered confidently, thinking, ‘Though you won’t know that since I found you. I’ve searched high and low for you, I’ll be damned if I let you slip from my grasp so easily.’

“Very well then,” Headmage Crowley let out a sigh, “(Y/N), are you agreeable with staying with the Octavinelle dorm and working at the Mostro Lounge until Master Ashengrotto can find a way to return you to your world?”

“Of course! Thank you so much, Mr. Ashengrotto!” you beamed with joy.

“Azul,” the dorm head answered with a nod, “please, call me Azul.”

“Azul, then.”

The human-cecaelian smiled sweetly at his soulmate and offered an arm out, his hearts practically bursting with joy when you slipped your own arm through his - the two of you now link together via soul and side by side.

***

Azul brought you to the Octavinelle’s renting dorm after ordering Jade and Floyd to start the welcoming party for the first years as well as to get them ready for tomorrow night.

“Do what you need to do,” Azul smiled at the two.

“Of course.”

“You got it, boss!”

When the two of them were out of earshot, you looked up at Azul, “Thank you so much for your help back there. I wasn’t certain what was going to happen if you hadn’t stepped in.”

“Likely the headmage would have thrown you out of the college and left you to fend for yourself,” Azul smiled, “but I, on the other hand, would never allow something so pitifully disgusting happen to you.”

You giggled, the sound pulling on Azul’s heartstrings.

‘She’s here, she’s real,’ his thoughts quickened as the two continued their leisurely pace, ‘I knew that she was real, that she and I would meet. It will only be a matter of time now - once she confesses her feelings for me, I will make her mine.’

The two stopped outside one of the doors, Azul pulled out a key ring and unlocked it before ushering his soulmate inside.

“You can stay here,” Azul answered, peering around and wishing that it was cleaner than it was now, “There’s spare blankets in the closet in case you get cold during the night and fresh towels in the bathroom. I’ll have Jade or Floyd bring you a spare pair of clothing since you’ve brought nothing with you.”

“Oh, you don’t have to…”

“I insist,” Azul answered, “What sort of host would I be if I didn’t provide the best service?”

You giggled again, your smile even wider, “Well, thank you again Azul.”

Each time you spoke his name, Azul’s heart gave a leap of joy.

He coughed, blushing slightly, “W-Well then, should you need anything during your time here, just let me know.”

“Of course, but - may I ask a question?”

“You already have,” Azul snickered at you.

Your pout was adorable that Azul burst into laughter before you asked, “Why were you willing to help me? A complete stranger?”

“I have a gift for sensing someone in need,” Azul answered, his grin spreading wider over his features, “I have helped many poor unfortunate souls in my short lifetime and intend on continuing to offer my services in exchange for something.”

“What sort of payment?”

“Depends - but it isn’t something you should worry about. I like to keep a few things in my personal life private - regardless of my relationships with other people.”

“Of course, I can respect that.”

“Thank you, I appreciate it,” Azul reached out, pushing the hood down and stroking your soft hair gently, “Why don’t you rest now? I have to attend the welcome party for the new students and make sure no one is destroying anything in my absence. I will have Jade or Floyd bring you something to eat in a little bit along with that fresh change of clothes. Tomorrow, we’ll discuss our contract.”

“Contract?”

“I always have my employees sign a business contract before they begin work - regardless how long they work in the lounge for,” Azul answered, “It helps to have things in writing when dealing with problems later down the road.”

With a nod, you grinned, “Thank you again, Azul-san.”

The cecaelia couldn’t help himself as he leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead before pulling away and leaving his other half to stare at him in shock and surprise.

When the door clicked behind him, Azul pulled the keyring out and locked the door to prevent anyone from entering and you from leaving. His eyes gleamed menacingly in the low light as a black gloved hand stroked the doorframe gently.

‘At last… you’re here with me, my precious pearl. Forgive me, but now that I have seen you… I can never let you go…’

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undiscovered-horizon · 1 year

Text

"Little Sun" - Nikolai Lantsov x Reader

[This is a work of fiction. Slapping your partner is physical abuse.]

SUMMARY: Nikolai left Ravka to gather whatever aid he can get for his home but he comes back because he promised you.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 1.2k

Apparently, Коля [Kolya] is short for Nikolai and it's the cutest thing I've heard in my life. Also, let me know if you're fine with just Cyrillic or do you want me to include Latinized spelling in the future.

>>Grishaverse-inspired playlist<<

Tolya and Tamar have a bet. Not a very dramatic piece of information if one knows a thing or two about the siblings. But it’s the nature of the bet, not its sole existence, that’s so interesting - it’s their longest unresolved wager:

The whole thing started when they noticed Sturmhond saying “Солнышко would love this” to himself. Most of the time it’s a whisper, a stray thought that somehow wriggled free out of his mind at a sight of a sunset, a panorama of a city or a treasure his crew found - if something is worth appreciation, the enigmatic “Солнышко” would surely want to see it. Judging by the softness with which the captain says those words, Tolya and Tamar are disillusioned that “солнышко” is merely a term of endearment for someone close to Sturmhond’s heart. What directly sparked their bet was whether this hopeless love is returned. Tolya, probably biased by the poetry he so eagerly reads, was convinced that they were witnessing a dramatic love story of a princess and a sea dog or something along those lines. Tamar, however, remained more cynical in her judgement - whoever the lady is, she probably doesn’t spare the privateer much thought, if she’s even aware of his existence. Little did they know, the answer awaited them on the other side of the Fold.

The sanctuary is never quiet nor is it ever boring. Although its population doesn’t impress, the determined freedom fighters rarely catch a break, keeping the beehive constantly buzzing. People coming to and fro, the noise of neverending chatter, footsteps echoing through the grand halls and in the middle - you, one responsibility away from completely losing your mind.

You’re doing your rounds, utilising the march between ‘checkpoints’ to talk with Dima, a quite hyperactive Fabrikator, about his new project. It looks promising but you’ve learned to expect nothing less from the boy. He’s tripping over his feet because his gaze is boring into you, looking for any sign of approval or disapproval, and not the tiles in front of him.

The parchment rustles as you look through the blueprints. “That’s a lot of iron…” you say quietly. Pondering the schematic, you habitually rub your jaw. “If First Army is to use this on the battlefield, it needs to be lighter, so fewer soldiers have to man it. Some parts ought to be substituted with wood. Maybe these two?” You point to fairly small elements on the blueprint, which look to be part of the traction mechanism. Dima conceptualized a machine built on impressively complicated, codependent systems - one change is going to influence all the other parts, which in turn will circle back to the substitute and put a different strain on it.

Dima gasps. "My lady,” his voice is quiet, breathy.

Suddenly, the boy stops but you don’t think much about it. You stand beside him, still eyeing the blueprint in search of ways to save the more scarce resources without endangering the quality of the firearm.

“I know it’s going to be difficult, Dima,” you forestall his complaint. “We also don’t want this whole thing to shatter after firing the first round but there’s only so much-.”

"My lady, he's back,” he interrupts you.

You look up at Dima with furrowed eyebrows. But the boy doesn’t meet your eye - instead, he’s looking away towards something, or someone, by the entrance to the sanctuary; a haunted glint hiding in his pupils. Confused, you follow his gaze to the door, only to feel your heart stop for a moment:

The blond hair, the elegant kaftan with aiglets and the insufferable, juvenile confidence written on his face.

"Мой Коля,” you say barely above a whisper. The world smudges and blurs as tears fill your eyes.

Not having much care about the stoic image you’re supposed to maintain, you shove the schematics back into Dima’s hands (he nearly drops them) and rush to the ghost who’s been haunting your thoughts for far too long, pushing through people standing in your path.

The phantom becomes flesh and bones only when you feel his arms wrap around you, pulling you tightly to himself. The scent of seaweed and resin lingers on his clothes as though he was born a sea dog and became a prince by sheer coincidence. You hear Nikolai take in a deep breath, his nose buried in your hair. This feels almost too good to be true but good enough to be a cruel joke.

A minute or two passes by and even then it’s difficult for you to lean away to look at his face - Nikolai seems absolutely unwilling at letting you go again anytime soon. Literally and figuratively.

"I was beginning to lose hope," you say quietly. Although his eyes remain just as mischievous as they usually are, a hint of softness hides inside them.

"You know me, солнышко,” he says with a grin on his face. The pet name makes your chest both tighten and burst with passion you have nearly forgotten. After a long period of emptiness and coldness, this scorching devotion is burning you alive. “I promised you I'd come back."

Only when his warm hand reaches to wipe away your tears do you realize you’ve been crying all this time. Even if you tried, there’s no way of stopping this - all of the nights you’d spent worrying and all the days you’d been yearning for him, they finally find their outlet in this longed-for reunion. You’ve imagined his tragic death so many times, you can hardly believe all of that was just an atrocity of your mind.

“Please, stop crying,” Nikolai whispers while relentlessly wiping your face, “or I’m going to cry too and I don’t want to embarrass myself in front of our guests.”

A chuckle of both disbelief and overwhelming relief escapes your lips. Even now, at such a heartfelt moment, he can’t help his humour but Saints’ did you miss it.

You sniffle. Absentmindedly, your fingers trace the smooth material of his kaftan. Not a cut or a burn on this textile, as though it beared to witness to combat. "You’ve been gone for so long, I don't know if I should kiss or slap you."

He gives you a playful, questioning look. "Can I choose?"

"Not a chance."

Nikolai gasps when he feels your hand against his face. The strength of the slap was nowhere near to the punch Alina threw at him not too long ago but considering who you are, it aches incomparably more. To a degree, he understands that he might, after all, deserve some of your anger. Aside from the misguided, love-fueled belief you’ve always had in him, you had virtually no reason to think he’s alive, mourning him each time you lay in bed alone - until now.

He doesn’t have a chance to form a response to your outburst as you grab both sides of his face and clash your lips against his. That’s something Nikolai can condone and he does so with a nearly obscene lack of hesitation or reluctance. His arms hold your waist in a tight embrace. The saltwater on his skin tastes like insufferable youth and fabulous adventures. For a moment, you let yourself forget about the pending civil war, thinking only about the warm, soft lips you’ve missed so dearly. Your Коля came back to you, so everything is perfectly fine.

At the same time, Tolya turns to look at his sister with a proud grin. “Told you,” he says nudging her arm but Tamar only scoffs and shakes her head.

#shadow and bone #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone x you #shadow and bone fanfiction #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone fanfic #nikolai x reader #nikolai imagines #nikolai lantsov fanfiction #nikolai lantsov imagine #nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov x you #nikolai lantsov x reader #Spotify

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novasway · 1 year

Text

HER WAY — SULLY FAMILY

hello my loves!! it seems as though a lot of you enjoyed the first part!! so much so that i now wrote a second part to it!! before we get into it i would just like to thank you all for the support and nice messages <33 sadly i cannot respond to comments due to this being a side blog but know that i appreciate you guys sososo much <33 love u sm - nova .

ps : this is very short because i am very tired :(( also not read proof!! and also peep the little scene from my fav podcast ever !!

one , two

IT'S BEEN MONTHS . months since the sky people returned to pandora. months since the raids started and months since ( name ) last saw her family.

" TO THE LEFT! TO THE LEFT! SOMEONE TAKE THAT DAMN TRAIN OFF OF THE RAILS "

" UNCLE TSU'TEY I WANT TO SEE THOSE HELICOPTERS GONE! "

" YOU GOT IT! "

that was a normal day for ( name ) now, riding her ikran into battle every few days in order to protect her people. she no longer was the little girl that would once run around in the forests of pandora, she was now the olo'eyktan, the fate of the omaticaya was in her hands and she was determined to bring them to victory once more.

or so was the plan.

" olo'eyktan ( name )! " a hurried voice called out towards the young woman.

" lu'ìkx. what's wrong? you seem to be in a hurry? "

" i see you, olo'eyktan . " the warrior greeted the woman before continuing. " i do not mean to panic you, but u'är and veinnì found this while patrolling, we think that this might be an issue that you and your uncle should talk about. " he said, handing her a piece of paper.

" i see, well thank you lu'ìkx, i shall discuss this with my uncle, you're dismissed now. "

" uncle i cannot — you! cannot ask this of me. i will not. "

" ( name ), i understand, truly i do! but i cannot risk to lose you, i know yes, you're finally olo'eyktan but i'd rather you have no title than no life. " sighed tsu'tey . " i know that the thought of leaving breaks you but please listen to your old man for once. "

" ... "

" ( name ) please. you read the paper, they want to kill you, they won't stop until you aren't standing anymore so please follow your family, go to the reef and just forget about this place for a while. "

" .. if i leave now i will be able to join my family ... if i don't leave now i will be able to still protect my people, my people are very dear to me — "

" dearer than your family? "

" no ... not dearer than them. never dearer than them."

"there you go, that's your answer. go and prepare, you will be leaving in the morning. "

with a heavy heart ( name ) takes one more look at the forest before going to her tent. the gentle breeze and delicate smells caressing her skin. the forest was all she knew, it was her home, her sanctuary, she vowed to protect it with her all and now her promise will be broken.

' oh eywa please forgive me for this is not the way you gave me, please great mother forgive me for not being able to protect your creation. '

the morning came with heart breaking news for the omaticayans, yet another treasured member was leaving.

yet another olo'eyktan was leaving and with that the last sully was gone as well. with one last glance ( name ) got on her ikran and started her journey towards the reef.

the journey was a rough one, heavy rains and cold winds that made them almost crash or the hot sun burning at her blue skin during the day seemed to discourage her second by second.

being alone made her realize how awful it was not hearing lo'ak and neteyam's banter, or jake's stories from back on earth or tuk asking the most random questions. she wonders why only now her brain decides to remind her of such times. perhaps during the time that she spent in the forest fighting she didn't have time to catch a break and think everything through.

no matter the cause, ( name ) straightened her back and continued to fly towards her destination. she would get to be reunited with her family soon.

#avatar #avatar the way of water #jake sully #kiri sully #sully family #neytiri #lo’ak x reader #neteyam x reader #jake sully x daughter!reader #sully family x reader

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felassan · 2 months

Text

Letters from Lovers

Transcriptions of the letters from the various gear store items. under cut for length.

Isabela:

“My dear Hawke, Do you know anyone with a flock of parrots? I'm trying to cheat on a bet with Varric and the stakes are exceedingly high. If you help me, I shall take you to that breathtaking beach you so crave. Free of ancient horrors, too. I think. I'd hate to take respite from all my adventures, but there are other ways to make the heart flutter. In fact I'm already imagining a few. Aren't you? Sailing there can be fatal, but Admiral Isabela will keep you safe. Are you interested? I would love to see you again. Yours, Isabela”

Morrigan:

“My love, Now before that grin reaches your ears, perish the thought that this letter was my idea. 'Tis Kieran who would not give me peace until I wrote to ask how you are faring. Regale us, if you please, with another of your tales that I might read to him in bed. He is particularly fond of those wherein you spur mischief whilst you save the day. Thank you for your most delightful gifts. I shall make certain to wear them the next time you come home. Dream of me until then, my Hero of Ferelden, and have a care. Morrigan”

Dorian:

“My dearest Amatus, Home is ever as it was: a glittering whirl of dancing, politics, and murder. I'm used to people staring daggers at me - I quite relish it, actually - but the glares seem to possess a new intensity since my return to Tevinter. Do they disapprove of House Pavus freeing its slaves while I work in the Magisterium to end slavery across Tevinter? Perhaps they simply covet my cheekbones, and who could blame them? Real reform will take time, but we're making inroads. I miss you terribly, Amatus, perhaps almost as much as you miss me. I treasure you and your belief in my work here. Yours always, Dorian P.S. I wouldn't take it amiss if you might send me another barrel of that dreadful Fereldan beer?”

Alistair:

“My love, How are you? Is it true that you recently killed darkspawn with only a mean glare and a pointy stick? Ferelden is ablaze with this rumor! You do give people so much hope. Tales of your heroism never fail to astonish me and almost ease the pain of going to sleep without you by my side. Almost. I can't wait to be with you again. I'd bring you some roses, you could give me a tour of the keep, we'd drink with the new recruits and then cuddle in a tent. Without the new recruits! Tent time is just for the two of us. I want to make that clear. Now excuse me while I practice my death glare and rummage through the dog's stash of sticks. I love you. Yours forever, Alistair.”

Tali:

“By the way, I left something for you up in your cabin. Go have a look.” - Tali’Zorah --- “Dear Shepard, As you may remember, I presented this picture frame to you as a gift on the Normandy. It was my way of expressing my admiration for you and our bond as comrades-in-arms. On the back of the metal frame, I've emblazoned a promise that will never fade - 'Shepard, wherever you go, I'm with you.' I know it's not much, but...this is what I look like under the mask. I'm sorry if it's not what you were expecting. I know Quarian faces can be a bit...different. Every time you look at my picture, I hope you will be reminded of our adventures on the Normandy, from our battles against the Reapers to our intimate conversations in the privacy of our quarters. I am not one to express my emotions openly, but thank you for being my friend, my confidante, and my inspiration. I look forward to many more adventures together. Keelah se’lai, Tali’Zorah”

Bonus:

Shepard's N7 acceptance letter, from Anderson:

“N7 Congratulations on your graduation From Captain David Anderson Shepard, When I graduated from the N7 program I had the honor of meeting Admiral Grissom, the man who inspired me to pursue a career in the service, and I never thought I’d feel prouder in my life. I was mistaken. Don’t get me wrong, it was a big day. An important day. But there’s something about welcoming driven young people like yourself into the ranks that’s also pretty damn satisfying. Your distinguished service record may have gotten you into this program - but it was your courage, integrity, and tenacity that’s enabled you to join an elite few. You represent the best of humanity, and I feel certain you’ll make the galaxy a better place. And I’m not the only one who feels this way. Becoming an N7 means the entire Systems Alliance is telling you one thing - we believe in you. Let me end by saying this. Welcome to the team Shepard. We know you won’t let us down. David Anderson Systems Alliance Interplanetary Combatives Academy N7 N7 Acceptance Letter”

#dragon age #bioware #morrigan #queen of my heart #feels #video games #alistair theirin #fav warden #alcohol cw #long post #longpost #mass effect #gpoy #more of these pls 🥺#maybe.. a fenris one...? 👉👈#(if i missed any of these letters #pls let me know)

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authenticmiya · 2 months

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Boston - Chris Sturniolo x Reader

Summary - Based off of the song ‘Austin’ by Dasha. You were Highschool sweethearts and suddenly that all went away.

Words - 1.6k

Warnings - angst /small mention of alcohol

“We had a plan, move out of this town, baby

West to the sand, it's all we talked about lately

I'd pack the car, bring your guitar and jane for smokin'

First thing at dawn, you'd queue the songs and we'd get goin'

But you weren't home, waited on the porch for ya

Sat there alone, all throughout the morn' 'til I

Got a hunch down in my gut and snuck around the back

Empty cans and I'll be damned, your shit was never packed”

"We hit twenty five thousand subscribers baby." Chris declared excitedly as he burst into his room. You were just chilling, awaiting the finish of the triplets' filming.

"No fucking way!" Excitedly jumping up, he embraced you into his arms.

"I'm so proud of you." You whispered, treasuring the moment as their success was very evident.

"We're gonna be in LA sooner than you think." And that was the promise you knew he'd keep. The problem was, that sentence would have the worst outcome in the future.

"Wrap around porch with a puppy?" He nodded excitedly, oh the plans you guys had ready and waiting. They had been planned for the years you'd been together.

It wasn't unknown that being around the Sturniolo household was a daily ritual. You guys were known as the 'Highschool Sweethearts'. How cliché?

"YouTube is kicking off for us and so will your music Y/N." Chris couldn't stop embracing you, excitement yet anxiety filling both of you. That was potentially the most gut wrenching memory to think about. All of the empty promises and plans.

Just like that, a couple of months had gone by. The 'Highschool Sweethearts' seemingly both on board with the thought of going back and forth to LA. They had hit just short of 500k. You had a label willing to sign you in LA. It was all falling into place and before you knew it, the days were building up to the ultimate move across the states.

"I really hope you know what decisions you're making Y/N. I feel like this is all very overwhelming and too good to be true." Your best friend declared and you looked at her funnily.

"I'm not laughing, has Chris even replied to your last eight messages about your flight tomorrow?" And come to think of it, no he hadn't. But he was definitely just busy finalising his packing, wasn't he?

"I'm going to walk to their house after I add the finishing touches to my suitcases. I tried texting Matt but he's not answering either..." Your thinking face came on immediately but quickly faded when you thought there was nothing to worry about.

"He's definitely just sorting stuff out." You muttered.

"We've been together for nearly three years, I don't think he's having doubts." Defending him again.

"I never said anything about him having doubts, that's on you." And so she left you to your own device of figuring out what really was going on with your boyfriend. She wasn't angry, of course not. However, best friends - true best friends always have the better instinct on situations regarding those they care about.

With Travis Scott blasting through your AirPods, your walk to the Sturniolo household began. It was nearing 2pm. Their parents' cars weren't in the drive once you arrived but the minivan was. You had pre-warned quite literally all three of the triplets that you were on your way over, none replied but Chris had the audacity to leave it on read.

"I'm on your porch and you're ignoring me." Sadness suddenly waved across you. What was the real reason none of them were answering?

"Chris?" You knocked on the door. After a solid 45 minutes, your heart was practically hung. There was one last option, head around the back. What a terrible option to pick, you should've just made your way home.

"What the fuck?" Mixed cans of Pepsi, BUD Light and Dr Pepper pretty much everywhere and what sounded like a Bluetooth speaker somewhere in the back yard. What hurt the most was three very familiar voices could be heard, those of whom had ignored you all damn day.

The question was, do you or do you not go in and make your hurt known to all of them?

"Y/N?" Torn from your heartbroken thoughts, Nate noticed you were there and called you out in front of everyone. Making solid eye contact with Chris, he was like a deer in headlights.

"So, this is what you guys have been up to today?" You questioned, an eyebrow quirked in confusion. If it wasn't awkward before, it definitely was now.

"I wanted to call you-" Nick began but was cut short.

"Boys night." Chris stated.

"It's 2pm Chris, hardly a boys night."

"Well we're continuing this through the night." Why was he being so blunt?

"Are you guys all packed and ready for LA at least?" The colour drained from Nicks face, Matt remained silent and Chris was damn right being rude.

"Your shits not even packed?" Everything you were saying seemed to be going over his head.

"Stop fucking ignoring me Chris!" The band had snapped but you were the one breaking.

"Are we going as a team? A couple? A fucking pair of friends? Are we going together at all?" You deemed an answer.

"Jesus Christ Y/N, I can't do this with you anymore. We're gonna be social media influencers and you're gonna jet off on world tours. We've changed, it's not gonna work." Chris' words felt like venom. The cat really had your tongue. Not to forget that he had just called you out in front of everyone both you and him cared about.

"You can't be serious..." You're too strong to cry in front of him, surely you're too strong to cry in front of him.

"Deadly." He stated coldly.

"We might be on the same flight out there but we're not jetting off to the same life like we had here." His triplet brothers were always going to side with him but they had awfully guilty looks as they watched this whole scene unfold in front of them.

"That's it? You're just going to give up on us? You've not even made it to the West Coast and LA has already gotten to your head? What about the wrap around porch?" You didn't even have it in you to stay any longer, the tears were threatening to fall and that was enough to send you running home. Chris had a flash of sadness cover his face but he quickly subsided this, not wanting to let his 'guard' down.

"There's no way that's what just happened." Nick was out of words, confused by his brother and heartbroken for you, his so called best friend.

"Well it did, let's turn up the music."

That was the last you heard from all of them. Chris unfollowing you on Instagram just before boarding your shared flight. Of course without a secure clarification of whether you to were together but it was evident now. If LA was going to be the fresh start then hitting that big red block button was also on your list. You just couldn't do it.

In the studio, a few weeks later.

"Y/N you can take five if the chorus is too much." Your manager politely offered.

"This is the verse, the sealed deal, I'm not backing out of it." You'd gotten a bigger following in a short amount of time. Having one single already teased seemed to bring you lots of attention. Writing songs based on your personal experiences were becoming both a blessing and a curse.

“Did your boots stop workin'?

Did your truck break down?

Did you burn through money?

Did your ex find out?

Where there's a will, then there's a way

And I'm damn sure you lost it

Didn't even say goodbye

Just wish I knew what caused it

Was the whiskey flowin'?

Were you in a fight?

Did the nerves come get you?

What's your alibi?

I made my way back to LA

And that's where you'll be forgotten

In forty years you'll still be here

Drunk washed up in Boston”

You’d proudly gone over your chorus multiple times very well and without tears. The first time you’d written down the lyrics and actually sang them out loud was very different. The feelings and emotions of the situation with Chris really became a reality.

“Y/N, this is gonna be one hell of a fucking hit!” Your manager screeched. Reaching LA, your genre of music was solely gonna be based on your personal preference.

“Hell of a bluff, you had me believin'

How many months did you plan on leavin'?

What happened? Bad habits?

Did you go back? Go batshit?

I loved you, how tragic, oh-oh”

After wrapping up in the studio, you headed straight home. Thankfully you were successful in renting out a 2 bedroom apartment. Of course being in the upcoming limelight was a dream come true but deep down, it was lonely. Three people completely missing out on what would be your success. After a warm bath and some listening to snippets of your single, you couldn’t help but check up on the Sturniolo’s social media’s.

Very quickly, it was a deep regret. They were ‘happy’ and it hurt like hell. Why couldn’t you have all been happy together?

“Alexa why are you fucking playing Kelly Clarkson right now?” You grew emotional, bringing your kneels to your chest as you rested in the sofa.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite get that.”

“Fuck you.” You muttered.

“Y/N, your song already had two million hits. They’re going to play it on the radio!” You were quick to burst into cheers and tears as your team surrounded you. Your manager silenced everyone and turned the radio up.

“Here we have the new and quite frankly, most requested upcoming artist. This is Boston by Y/N. Her song debuted just three days ago with her team telling us that she worked incredibly hard.” As the song played on the radio, it all became surreal. The small town Boston girl who had always dreamed about this, finally got her wish. One of the producers wrapped you into a hug as you began sobbing.

“You done it and you deserve it, here’s to Y/N!” That night, they had informed you that there was a party. This was all for you to celebrate not only your single, but your future to! Applying the final touches of mascara, your phone pinged.

Instagram

christophersturniolo sent you a message: Boston?

#Chris Sturniolo #Chris Sturniolo x reader #Sturniolo x reader #Matt Sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo angst #sturniolo triplets

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milophiliac · 6 months

Text

Porter Solaire x GN! Reader 0.7 k words Genre: Uhh hurt/comfort? Or just comfort? Warnings: Not proofread

"So you're leaving? Just like that? Porter I know I said I was okay with us being... whatever, for just that night. But when you invited me to that summit thing, and when we started talking a lot more, I thought that meant that.. we were... something more. Something more than just a one night thing, okay?" Their voice cracked. Treasure, much like their name suggested, meant the world to Porter. Sure, he'd just met them about a month ago, but that one month, his life seemed almost bearable.

"Treasure, you and I both knew that I wasn't going to be staying in Dahlia forever-" He gently started. "-Don't," they cut him off, "just don't bother. It's fine, Porter. I'm fine." They exhaled shakily before leaving his place. Two days later, Porter couldn't get it off his mind, the way their eyes dimmed when he told them that he was leaving Dahlia. His heart burned, when he thought of the look of despair that was etched onto their features right before they left. He had to do something about it, but what could he possibly do? He had 3 days before he left, time wasn't exactly on his side. He texted them, but no avail. 4 texts, no reply back, he was left on read. He tried calling them, but yet again his efforts were ignored as they just declined all calls. They were upset.

That's what led to a very sunburnt looking Porter showing up at their doorstep at 12 noon that day. Treasure's eyes widened in concern as they dragged him in and towards the living room. "Why did you?! Porter oh my god-" They rushed as they closed all the blinds. "Porter, you could've just come over at night-" Their tone was panicked. "What do vampires even do in situations like this- Does ice work? You're red all over," concern laced their tone as they walked to the freezer to get an ice bag. They rushed back to the living room and gently held the ice pack against his face. "Why did you come here?" Porter gently flashed them a toothy grin, the first time he'd smiled after they left his place. "I'm sorry. I missed you." They lightly sighed as their eyes teared up, without another word, they wrapped their arms around his neck and hugged him. They sobbed lightly and sniffled, "you didn't have to do this at like... the sunniest time of the day y'know," they complained. "Well, I was hoping you'd see my very sunburnt face and feel some form of pity," he chuckled. They punched him lightly and chuckled through a sob. "I'm sorry I didn't answer your texts... or calls," they sniffled. "I just, I don't want to see you go so soon," they sighed. Porter's eyes softened with concern, "hey, I'll come back, every once in a while." Their brows furrowed as their lip quivered, "But then we won't have what we have now." "Hey," his voice softened. "I know, treasure, I really do, but, Dahlia isn't my home. Not anymore at least," he said softly, "I will be back, just for you." Treasure sniffled as they looked at him, "You promise?" He looked at them, a slight smile gracing his features, "Yes, I do. I promise." "You looks like a wreck," they sniffled. "I know, treasure," he smiled as he grabbed the ice pack and placed it on his face, "feel like one too," he chuckled. They sighed, "you didn't need to do all this... for me. I would've accepted your apology just as fine during the night, y'know," treasure rolled their eyes, "you always had a flair for theatrics huh?" He gave them an amused smirk, "One, I had to apologize right now, it was the only thing on my mind from last night. And two, yes I do." Treasure leaned in and closed their eyes, taking the cue, Porter closed the gap and gently kissed them, his hands gently caressing their neck. They pulled back before looking into his eyes, "I love you," they said softly before leaning back in to kiss him. "I love you too, treasure," he replied with a smile as his hands hugged their waist.

#redacted asmr #redacted audio #porter solaire #redacted porter #porter x reader #redacted monarchal summit #porter solaire x reader #redacted fluff #redacted comfort #redacted angst #redactedaudio #redactedverse #redactedasmr

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foli-vora · 11 months

Text

run to you: ch.6

A/N: and we're back! originally thought this would be out last week but i couldn't shake the feeling that it needed more so i delayed it a little and sure enough, an extra 4k words came out lmao. we get a lot more of marcus' POV with this chapter which is nice to write, and some more flashbacks that make my heart hurt. let me know what you think! enjoy angels! x

P.S i've been god awful at replying to reblogs and comments lately but i just want you to know that i treasure you all so damn much, and i read every bit of feedback left again and again and i swear i could cry with how much you all mean to me, so thank you for taking the time to read this story and leave me kind words - forever will appreciate you beauties ❤️

Summary: Following on from ‘Traitor’ and ‘You’re Somebody Else’. An unexpected visitor throws you right back into the life you thought you left behind. Working beside the man that put you behind bars is one thing, pretending like you never loved him is another.

Word count: 6.6k (i hope this makes up for the wait lmao)

Warnings: angst (obviously), swearing, Patrick Jane is a warning, heartbreak, lots of talk of lies and the undercover job, a very brief moment of softness, talk of murder and descriptions about the circumstances, vague description of a bullet wound, talk of death, jealous!marcus is being birthed LMAO sir u have no right

main masterlist | series masterlist

This story will have explicit sexual scenes in the future so 18+ only.

The room is blurry.

You’re highly aware of how you pace like a caged lion outside his closed office door but simply can’t find it in you to still your anxious limbs. You catch the bright green eyes following your movements from across the room, but you struggle to hold his gaze longer than a second in fear of what you’d find swimming in them.

Surely Jacob must know now after the meeting. He’d know it’s your fault. Is he angry? Does he see you differently now? People are dead because of you and your mistake. You should’ve known better than to get caught up on the history you and Marcus share, and now you’re going to have to pay for it. You’ll have to carry those lives on your shoulders for the rest of your life.

It’s bitter.

The tears are hot when they spill over your lash line and track down your cheeks, but you’re quick to wipe them away and instead focus on the ceiling, blinking wildly in hope to calm the sting of more.

What are you going to say? What can you say?

There’s very little that would make up for this. A simple sorry wouldn’t cut it. There’s the promise of doing better next time, but would he believe you? Would he even let you stay on the case? You don’t know exactly when you started caring so much about it all—hell, you didn’t even want to be here in the first place, but now? You feel like you’re doing something, something good and worthwhile, and it feels nice after the hell ride the last couple of years had been.

You were on the right side now, but apparently you didn’t belong here.

God, what are you going to say?

You don’t get much more time to think about it. The door is wrenched open and the agents that had been speaking to him privately step out, giving you a small nod in greeting before wandering off and finally giving Marcus the opportunity to see you standing there waiting, glued to that spot on the worn carpet.

Frozen. You’re frozen, unsure of whether to say hello or goodbye, or skip straight to the apologies that are building on your tongue.

His eyebrows raise in obvious surprise as he falters in the doorway, obviously not expecting you of all people to be waiting for him, and you see the quick flutter of something unidentifiable through his eyes.

For a moment, nothing is said, but then the words fall from your lips in a panicked burst—

“It’s my fault.”

The expression of shock quickly gives way to confusion, and his eyes bounce between yours in an effort to follow your train of thought.

“What is?”

“The murders… it’s my fault, isn’t it? I did something wrong. God, Marcus, I—I’m sorry, I swear I’ll do better—”

He wordlessly steps aside during your little ramble and you take the silent offer of entering his office, anxiety growing with the click of his door closing behind you. You start to pace again, your heart beating thickly in your throat. Your mind races with the what ifs, and how he’ll go about dismissing you from the case.

Are you in trouble? How much? Have you pissed off the FBI higher ups? Are they sick of you? Is it enough for them to just throw you back into jail and forget about your silly little existence?

A chill creeps along your spine and you start to feel sick.

No.

No, he wouldn’t do that. Not again.

He said to trust him. He said he wouldn’t.

Would he?

“Please don’t send me back,” you beg softly, eyes filling at the mere idea of that tiny cold cell you called home for far too long and his face only creases further as you start to shake, “I promise I won’t make any mistakes again, I just—please, Marcus, I-I can’t go back—”

“Just… just stop,” he demands quietly, stepping forward with one hand perched on his hip and the other held out in an attempt to soothe your trembling voice, “I need you to sit down. Now, please.”

Sit down? How could you possibly sit down? You can’t, not when you’re shaking like this. You don’t think you’d even manage a single step with the fear running along your nerves like it is.

He obviously sees the state you’re quickly falling into and comes closer, hauling the visitor's chair out from beneath his desk and sliding it right up to you. He keeps a hand raised to your arm as you slowly lower into it, palm never touching you but lingering just a short distance away should you really start to break down and have your legs give out from beneath you.

Marcus drags his own chair out and slides it around his desk before stopping in front of you and taking a seat quietly. He gives you a moment, clearly studying the tears that run down your cheeks with a deepening frown before he leans forward, bracing his forearms along his thighs and looking up at you with a slight shine of concern.

“What’s going on?”

He must want you to say it, to own up to your mistakes and give him the satisfaction of watching you crumble. Didn’t he get enough of that the first time?

You sniff pathetically, looking at him with a slight scowl.

“You know what’s going on. I’m not an idiot, Marcus.”

He shakes his head, “No. No, you’re not. So, can you tell me what happened? Why do you think you’re at fault for the murders?”

“That guy out there,” you mumble, wiping your cheeks with your sleeve and recalling the pressed light grey three piece suit, “he said the buyers knew that the painting was a fake, and that’s why they were killed. They knew it was a fake, Marcus, so I didn’t do a good enough job to—”

He silences you again with a flash of his hand and you swallow the desire to snap at him for it. He presses further, eyes locked with yours and you almost feel like you’re in an interrogation with how focused they seem to be. Determined.

“What guy?”

“The consultant,” you mutter quietly, “uh… Patrick, I think it was?”

The change is immediate. He sits back in his chair and looks away, almost angry. No, he is angry, but it’s not at you. He glances at the door with a small roll of his jaw before he sighs sharply and shakes his head. The usual warmth in his gaze has turned molten hot with his irritation and you can’t seem to look away.

What the hell is his problem?

“Don’t listen to a single word that comes out of his mouth. He doesn’t get to just walk in here and start acting like he knows everything about this case because he doesn’t.”

The bitterness in his voice comes as a shock.

You feel it play across your face, your eyes darting over his tightened expression in search of answers. He clearly doesn’t like the consultant, but why? You’d assume the FBI would be tight with anyone they chose to work with, and Marcus seemed to be friendly with his co-workers. He’s a damn good agent, you know that for a fact, so what’s the issue?

Maybe it’s the case—he must be stressed. Is it dragging longer than he anticipated? Had there been a lot of bumps along the road? Was this Patrick guy making it difficult?

Marcus sighs quietly, shifting in his seat and dropping his gaze to the floor.

“Look, there’s a lot of reasons this could’ve happened, okay? It’s not your fault at all. They may have already had some issues, there could’ve been bad blood from a previous deal, they could’ve asked for more than what was arranged, they might've refused to go through with the deal… we don’t know, but I don’t want you to put this on yourself. It’s not your fault.”

Staying quiet, your teeth pinch and pick at the soft skin of your inner bottom lip. How can he say that if he doesn’t know? He just said himself that there are a lot of reasons, so how does he know for sure that you’re not the reason for this happening?

It has to be you.

"Look at me," he says softly, and your eyes fly up to meet his automatically. They’re cooler now, calmer. "It's not your fault, okay?”

It takes a moment, but eventually, you give a shallow nod.

The worry slowly eases, and as much as a part of you wants to keep placing the blame on your shoulders because that’s all you deserve, it’s not as strong as the pure sincerity emanating from him.

For once, you find yourself not doubting him. You’re not the reason people have been killed. You’re not in trouble. You’re not going back to prison.

Relief.

It’s comforting, sweet and warm, and spreads out from the back of your hand. It’s not relief, it’s him. You feel the rough surface of his palm on your skin, his thumb brushing soft reassuring strokes back and forth, and it’s only then you realise his hand is covering yours.

How long has it been there?

You study the way it looks, taking a moment to recall the past touch of something similar, something just as warm and reassuring and suddenly your throat feels thick. You hate that it feels nice, that it feels familiar, even after so long.

For a brief, brief second, you allow it, mind hazy and heart aching with the flood of memories and the ghost of fingers along your body, lips beneath your ear… but it’s not him. It’s not Alex.

You pull your hand out from under his and Marcus immediately recoils, hand clenching into a tight fist as he brings it to rest on his lap.

A chill creeps over the back of your hand from the loss of warmth and you pull your sleeve down to cover it.

“I’m sorry for anything Jane said. If I had known he’d say something like that, I would’ve spoken to you beforehand. I’ll uh… I’ll get Agent Wilson to take you home. I need him back at the office to dive into what evidence Teresa’s team has given us, and you can get some rest.”

“Sounds good,” you murmur, slightly thankful you wouldn’t have to return to your workspace with the slight ache building in your temples. You feel for Jacob, who’s probably about to endure a late night at the office, but something else piques your interest. “Teresa?”

That’s a funny coincidence.

Alex had an ex named Teresa he'd told you about. He’d worked with her, and apparently had fallen pretty hard and fast, too. She had left him for another man, leaving him broken and lost and… oh.

Oh, fuck.

Is it—?

“Patrick.”

You don’t need to say anymore.

Marcus, who had seemingly followed your silent thought process easily, gives a humourless huff followed by a nod, sighing as he pinches the bridge of his nose and squeezes his eyes shut. Suddenly it all makes sense—his exhaustion, the bitter feelings towards Jane. The pressure of the case, mixed with stress of not only working with your fake ex and ex-fiance, but also the man she had left you for? Shit.

The bags beneath his eyes make sense.

You should laugh, say he’s getting what he deserves and Teresa made the right fucking choice in picking another man over him because he’s nothing but a liar and a fake, but the thirst for a bitter jab is short lived. That would be a low blow, despite everything he did to you.

“That must be hard,” you mutter, reaching for the strap on your bag and readying it over your shoulder.

“It is,” he replies softly, “but this case is a lot harder for others.”

When you glance up you find he’s already looking at you.

He holds your gaze for a moment longer before you let your eyes drop and finally stand from the chair, thanking him quietly for the time he took to talk to you. He smiles, albeit sadly, and says anytime.

You risk a quick final glance over your shoulder when you close his door, and it’s no surprise to find that he’s watching you go.

—

The morning sun bounces off of his skin where it starts to seep through your windows, breaking through the night and alerting you to the early hour.

He’s asleep, face tucked into the back of your neck and warm breath fanning over your skin. You’re still cocooned in his arms, feeling much too hot to be comfortable enough to sleep with the temperature of his bare skin against yours, but reluctant to leave his embrace.

You’d endure the stifling heat for a bit longer, just to soak up the most of this moment. There’s never been someone like him before, never been a feeling like this. It hangs in the quiet stillness as the sun starts to wake, something new and sweet and promising.

His fingers are still intertwined with yours, his hold now looser since his breathing evened out. You study the way his skin looks against yours, how easily his hand overlaps the size of yours and how rough his palm feels on the back of your hand. You brush your thumb along his, heart running wild in your chest.

“What’re you doing?” He mumbles sleepily into your skin, pressing his lips into your shoulder.

The movement of you twisting and turning his hand must’ve disturbed his sleep. You tuck your hand, still tangled with his, close to your chest as a heat rises in your cheeks.

“Looking at our hands,” you reply quietly, slightly embarrassed that you’ve been caught, “sorry for waking you.”

The arm draped over you tightens, and you relish in the feeling of pure and utter safety. Nothing can hurt you here. It’s just you and him, and the growing morning light. There’s no work, no stress, just him and his hold. You want it all the time. You want it forever.

He hums, pressing himself impossibly closer.

“What’s interesting about our hands?”

You watch as he moves them back into view, feeling the way his lashes flutter against the skin of your throat as he adjusts his face to see them better himself. His facial hair rubs and tickles along your shoulder, and you squirm away from the pleasant feeling.

“Nothing,” you smile, turning your face as best you could to meet his eyes, “I just liked the way they looked.”

His nose runs along yours, his own grin soft and tired.

“Get some sleep, Scribbles,” he mutters, pressing a long kiss to your lips and you damn near have a meltdown at the tender fondness of it, “before that beautiful smile of yours keeps me up any longer.”

“Smooth talker,” you tease lightly, exhaustion finally starting to coax your eyes into closing, “goodnight, Alex.”

He sighs, burying his face into the side of your head.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

—

His hands are sweating.

He doesn’t move for a moment, willing his heart to stop beating so damn hard. The soft feel of his slacks rubs against his palms as he rakes them down his thighs before finally standing, smoothing down his tie and attempting to act like your sudden visit to his office hasn’t shaken every thought he has in his head.

You were an unexpected visitor, but not an unwelcome one. No, never unwelcome. He’d first thought he was going to have to chase you through the damn building to sit you down and talk to you about the developments of the case, but apparently the universe had other plans.

Leave it to Patrick fucking Jane to get to you first.

The slight rush of anger returns, and he feels his defences heighten—defensive over the case, over his team, over you. He doesn’t know exactly what had been said between you both, but clearly it had been enough for you to get the wrong idea. He’s not too sure if Jane was digging for more information about the case and coming up with his own theories, or simply trying to figure out who you were and what you were doing there.

Either way, he doesn’t like it, and he needs to ensure it won’t happen again, but he can’t talk to him. No, if he tells Jane to back off then his interest in you will no doubt only grow, and he doesn’t want that. You don’t need to have Jane picking away at your brain for his own sick pleasure on top of everything else.

He leaves his office just in time to see you and Wilson disappear, and he relaxes slightly knowing you’ll soon be safe at home, no doubt bundled under a blanket with a sketchbook. His eyes scan the bullpen until he sees her, and he quickly strides the distance between them until he’s right there and asking for a moment in private.

She hesitates, and he doesn’t blame her, but soon Teresa is following him just a few steps out of hearing range and he internally delights at the slight frown working its way between Jane’s brows from across the desks.

“We need to lay some boundaries,” Marcus murmurs, crossing his arms defensively across his chest when she merely rolls her eyes at his words.

“I’m sure you and I can both be professional, Agent Pike—”

Agent Pike? Is that what it’s come to now? Sure, he knew this was going to be awkward, but he didn’t expect for her to act as coldly towards him as she is. She was the one who left him, after all.

“That’s not what I’m talking about. Jane—”

“—is an integral part of my team, and won’t be going anywhere.”

He exhales sharply, fighting the urge to roll his own eyes at her interruption.

“Understood, Agent Lisbon, but if we’re going to work together, he needs to reel it in on the theories with people that aren’t fellow agents, and if he continues to upset the civilian members of my team, I’ll be more than happy to kick him off the case along with the rest of your team.”

“You’re talking about the artist,” Teresa deduces, nodding in understanding with a vague twinge of interest and remaining unbothered by the threat of getting booted out of the investigation. “I saw them talking. Jane says she’s the one responsible for the replicas.”

Marcus sighs, arms tightening against his chest. It’s not a question but he gives a nod of confirmation anyway. He highly doubts that would’ve been something you would’ve freely admitted to a complete and utter stranger, so he assumes Jane has already been playing his little mind games.

“How’d she end up forging paintings for the FBI?” The interest grows, he sees it play across her face. “Doesn’t exactly seem like a dream career path for an aspiring artist.”

There’s a slight tone there. He doesn’t know what it is, but he doesn’t like it.

“That information has nothing to do with this case,” he replies firmly—defensively, “and it will remain that way. She has nothing to do with this investigation beyond providing her skills. Keep him on a tight leash, Agent Lisbon. I won’t tolerate it happening again, understood?”

There’s a barely there smile playing at the edges of her lips as she answers and it does nothing to calm his unease, “Understood, Agent Pike.”

—

Some of the faces on the table are familiar, and it almost feels like deja vu.

Most of the suspects in this case are new and some fully identified, however there were a few faces he vividly remembers from before. The people you had worked with, some had been jailed—like you, only with a much longer, unforgiving sentence—while others had slipped through the cracks and were simply left to return to the work that had first landed them in handcuffs.

Those who are in that deep never fully climb out of the hole, so it was more than likely he’d see them again in time.

And sure enough, some of their pictures scatter the chaotic table top of paper and files smeared everywhere, only he wasn’t expecting the obvious bullet hole in one of their foreheads. No question about how they were murdered, but the execution style of it certainly seemed personal. Did she know whoever held that gun?

You hadn’t been close, but you had been friendly enough with her during the rare times he would see you in a group back when he went by another name.

He knew all about her before even shaking her hand. She was young and naïve, lured into the illegal art trade business by the prospect of good money and no debt… much like yourself. She was talented, smart, an Ivy League dropout once she couldn’t climb atop of those heightening tuition fees.

He sees the reflection of you in her, all that wasted potential.

Could this have been you?

The images assault him before he even knows what’s happening. You laying there on that cold stainless steel autopsy table; you laying there with that gruesome hole right in the middle of your forehead; you with no family to pick your body up from the morgue.

It’s gut wrenching. He feels sick.

The photo drops from his fingers and he clenches his fist, heaving a long sigh of exhaustion and letting his body slump tiredly back into the chair. Other agents around the table mirror his position and energy, and with that, he finally decides to call it.

“Go home, guys,” he instructs, cutting through the silence and the shuffle of paper, “get a good night's rest and we’ll look over it with fresh eyes in the morning.”

There’s a sigh of relief that runs through the room, and no one wastes any time. They leave with various farewells and soon it’s just him and Wilson in silence. The man hasn’t moved much except from standing and fiddling with his folded jacket that had been previously hung over the back of his chair and Marcus waits, lifting an eyebrow in interest to urge the man to speak.

“Am I needed here tomorrow, sir? What about Picasso?”

A brief smile tugs at Marcus’ lips at the nickname.

“Yeah, we need you here. I’ll send her a text and let her know not to expect you.”

The other agent shifts on his feet, almost like he wants to object, but eventually he gives a nod and slinks out of the room with a quiet goodnight. Marcus watches the door close and briefly wonders if you’d spoken to Wilson about your shared history.

It would explain the sudden coolness he was getting from the young man, when in the beginning it was nothing but excitement and gratitude at being hired.

Marcus doesn’t mind—you need a friend, and Wilson is definitely a good guy. Besides, he deserves every bit of icy judgement from his previous choices.

He slides his cell from his pocket and types a simple text telling you not to bother preparing for tomorrow because Wilson would be in the office, hoping the alert of his message wouldn’t disturb you in your sleep and sends it without another thought before standing and starting to gather the loose documents spread out. He’s surprised when a notification sings out not even a minute later.

Is everything okay?

Eyeing the late hour at the top of his screen, he frowns at your pixelated words and replies quickly—

Everything’s fine—just lots of things to do. Did I wake you?

No, I was awake. I can’t sleep.

And you can’t. You’ve tried. You’ve tossed and turned and fluffed your pillow, kicked off your socks, put your socks back on, flicked a blanket off, wrapped yourself back up… and still nothing. You couldn’t get comfortable, you couldn’t still your mind long enough to let dreams take over.

Marcus feels his brows narrow at your words, and concern starts to creep into his system. Are you rattled about today? Do you have whatever Jane said to you playing on repeat in your mind? He starts to type his response, pausing when he starts to feel like he’s crossing some kind of line.

He reads the words over and over, wondering if he should just leave it and say goodnight. There’s an urge to talk to you, a want to hear your tired voice seep into his ears and maybe just pretend for a minute or two that everything didn’t fall to shit between you.

Do you mind if I call you?

You frown, thumb hovering over the screen as you deliberate an answer. This won’t help you sleep. If anything, it would only stir your thoughts up even more.

Yes. Yes, you do mind.

You don’t even want him to have your number, let alone to start calling in the middle of the night. No, he absolutely can’t call you, so why can’t you get your thumb to type out that three letter word to get him off your back?

Marcus holds his breath, waiting for the inevitable denial. He wouldn’t blame you. Of course not, but he still has that small flutter of hope tightening his stomach. It was always there, always waiting.

I don’t mind.

The message is delivered and received almost immediately and you miss the chance to take it back. You appreciate that he asked, though. That’s a good thing, right? He was giving you a chance to lay a boundary, and you believed he would’ve respected it should you have said you did mind.

You don’t bother with a hello when the phone eventually starts to vibrate in your hold and instead just lift it to your ear, wondering when your heart started beating so fast, when your throat got so damn dry.

“Sorry,” he breathes, the sound of shuffling and movement crackling down the line behind his voice, “I’m not much of a texter.”

“I know,” you reply quietly, huddling deeper under your comforter and tucking it beneath your chin.

Alex didn’t like texting, either.

Neither of you make another comment about it.

“I hope you’re not still thinking about earlier,” he says, and you imagine the hand that would rake through his hair as he busies about on his side.

Is he still at the office? That’s a late night. How much work is there to do? Do cases usually take this long?

“I’m not.”

And that’s the truth.

You stopped placing the blame on yourself once you made a few comments to Jacob in the car. Talking with Marcus helped, but Jacob calling you an idiot and saying it wasn’t your damn finger that pulled the trigger eliminated any remaining doubt. You didn’t hurt anyone, and even if your piece did have a mistake that alerted them to the authenticity of the piece, they made the choice to hurt others instead of just running.

“Have… have many people died during this case?” You ask carefully, before rushing to reassure him, “It’s okay if you can’t tell me. I get the whole classified thing.”

He snorts quietly, and your mind paints the picture of that pretty smile, those small dimples creasing his cheeks before you can help it.

“‘Classified’? We’re not running Area 51. The details of the case aren’t out there, but the murders are hardly a secret, you just don’t watch the news.”

“I watch the news,” you defend, knowing it’s an absolute lie.

You hate the news, you hate the constant drum of negativity and lies, you hate the motives behind it and how easily it can sway one’s mind.

Marcus chuckles softly, “You hate the news.”

Your cheeks start to ache, and it’s only then you find you’re smiling. It drops from your lips the second you realise and you shift under the blankets, a small frown starting to deepen between your brows.

“Well, maybe I don’t now. It’s been a long time since you knew me—I’ve changed a lot since then.”

He’s quiet, almost thoughtful, and then, “Have you? No more orange juice out of martini glasses?”

You can’t help it.

A huff of amusement breaks free from your lips and you’re smiling again.

You blame it on exhaustion, on stress, on anything that’s not him. It’s too nice, it’s too familiar. You don’t want to cross into these waters. You want to keep the space between you, barely talking and staying far, far away from each other until you can live your life with him nowhere near. You want to be free of him.

“Yeah well, my martini glasses got taken with the rest of my stuff when I went to jail so I can’t do that anymore.”

The slight tinge of iciness to your tone does well to kill the light hearted mood slowly creeping over the conversation and you’re almost glad for it. Almost.

A small part of you wilts from the warmth leaving your system, the walls steadily building higher and higher. You shouldn’t feel bad, and yet that feeling stirs to life in the pit of your stomach.

No, he deserves worse.

You push those tiny feelings away, burying them as deep as possible in some hidden part of you until their ache couldn’t be felt anymore. You couldn’t allow yourself to lower the walls you had built because of him. He doesn’t deserve to know you as you are now, slowly healing and on a journey to find peace.

He clears his throat softly and the gentle sound of it crackles in your ear.

“Right. Look, about that… I just…” a sigh, “I’m—”

Don’t say it.

Please don’t say it.

You don’t want to hear it. It doesn’t mean anything anymore. An apology will never, could never, make up for any of it. He could say it a thousand times, again and again, and it will never fix it. The devastation left in his wake had been violent and cutting, and the scars left from it would never heal fully. It was just something you’d have to live with. It was all a part of you now, whether you wanted it to be or not.

He sighs again, and another moment of silence passes.

“I’ll let you get some sleep. I’ll let you know when Wilson will be back, okay?”

“Okay,” you breathe, eyes following the dark lines of your bedroom furniture and the print framed on your wall.

A few more minutes pass and neither of you say anything, almost as if you’re both waiting for something else, something more. You don’t know what it is, and don’t care to find out, so you exhale softly and tuck yourself further in your bedding.

“Goodnight, Marcus.”

“Goodnight.”

—

This is dangerous.

It’s not good, it’s not professional, and yet, he just can’t fucking help himself. It all feels so normal, so natural. He wants it all the time desperately.

If only things had been different, if only he could’ve met you under different circumstances, where he didn’t have to hide behind a fake name and bullshit backstory. If only things didn’t have to be this way, maybe you two would stand a chance.

If only.

He’d soak it up while things felt somewhat normal. In the safety of your home, he can let his guard down a little. He can pretend. He can play the doting boyfriend madly in love to perfection, because that’s all he wants. For as long as he can remember, that’s all he’s ever wanted. Someone to be his, someone to call him theirs, and here, he has it.

He has it all with you.

His head tilts as he watches you from where he reclines into your kitchen counter, a smile slowly tugging at his lips as you sway to the music falling from the speakers.

“Why a martini glass?” He asks curiously, holding the stem of his own glass and swirling the bright yellow liquid within it.

You’re full of wonderful little surprises and quirks, and he takes them all in eagerly. He wants to know you, he wants to see the very core of you. He’ll soak in it all for as long as he can, ensuring to remember each and every thing about you.

The guilt lingers though, as it always does. It pushes through the warmth filling his system, bitter and unrelenting in its reminder of what he’s doing, what he’s already done. He used to think he was a decent person, good and true and fighting the good fight, but after this? No, he’ll never think like that again.

You’re the undoing to his entire being, and he both adores and resents it.

You grin, spinning away from the stove and sipping at the cold orange juice from the glass set beside you. “The question is—why not?”

He chuckles, giving a slow nod. “A fair point. Very fancy glassware for a simple breakfast.”

“Life is too short to keep fancy glassware in a cupboard—I’ve got to enjoy it all while I can!”

The self loathing triples.

God, you have no idea.

—

“Absolutely not.”

He’s adamant.

He doesn’t care how stubborn he seems, how defensive he must look standing at the head of the conference table with his arms crossed tightly across his chest. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care that Jane’s eyeing him up with a new spark of curiosity, he doesn’t care that some of his agents look at him with a mix of confusion and others with understanding.

He doesn’t fucking care.

“She’d know a lot,” Jane says finally, unbothered, “given her history. I’m sure she’d be able to assist in further identifying some potential suspects, maybe even fi—”

“Her ‘history’?” Marcus snarls quietly, glare landing on the consultant. “Her ‘history’ has nothing to do with this investigation, and she’s to be left completely out of it, Jane.”

The man smiles, and it makes Marcus’ skin crawl.

How does he know about your history? How does he fucking know? How does he know who you are, what you are? Have they been digging information up on you?

There’s not a lot to be found seeing as Marcus ensured to have your name left out of case files and merely left as an anonymous source in court documents.

Your own arrest and court files had been buried, along with most of your case details struck with a thick permanent black mark, unidentifiable to anyone reading over in the future, so what does he know?

Jane eventually yields with his hands playfully held up in surrender, and lets the subject of you drop. He wants you out there, walking the path of your other life to start asking questions about the murders and the thefts. Does he not realise how much danger that would put you in? You couldn’t simply just reappear one day and start asking about things you should know nothing about.

Marcus feels anger simmer under his skin.

The debriefing continues with no further mention of you. There’s more talk of the murders, more talk of which painting they’ll go after next and details ironed out in careful preparation, but still, Marcus can’t shake the thought in his head that maybe Jane was right.

He couldn’t entertain that thought, though.

The mere idea of you landing yourself back in with the wrong people after going through so much pain and healing, the image of you potentially getting hurt and, god forbid, killed… it set him on edge. It turns his stomach. It’s too much risk, and he doesn’t feel comfortable putting you in that position, especially after ensuring you that you wouldn’t be in any danger at any point during this case.

He wouldn’t lie to you.

Not again.

That was a silent vow he made to you and strictly to himself. Never again. Going forward, you’d only hear the truth fall from his lips and that’s that. No more lies, no more going behind your back—none of it.

It’s most definitely too little, too late, but still. He refuses to do it anymore.

He goes to the comfort of his office after the debriefing, intent on closing the door firmly behind him to have a minute of peace to gather his thoughts and emotions, but the body that had been tailing him from the conference room fills his door frame and he lets them in without a word, closing the door immediately after.

“Look, I don’t like the guy, but he has a point, sir,” Wilson says as he stands in the middle of the room, hands diving into his pockets, “and I know she’d want to help more if she could. She feels pretty useless just stuck in that room all day, even if she does enjoy the art.”

He’s shaking his head before his co-worker can even finish, striding across the office and taking a seat in his desk chair. His elbows meet the arms of it and he slouches in the seat, fingers rubbing at the bridge of his nose to will away the headache threatening to grow in his temples.

“It’s out of the question.”

“Look, sir, I get it. I get that you wouldn’t want to put her back in this shit—believe me, I don’t want her to be either, but don’t you think that’s a decision she should make herself? She’s stronger than you think, and she didn’t get a lot of choice the first time ‘round.”

So he does know.

Marcus heaves a quiet sigh, looking up at the younger agent and studying his features.

There’s a swirl of worry swimming in the green eyes gazing levelly back at him, and it’s what Marcus focuses on most. It was easy to see the connection you and Wilson had made within the month you two had spent together, so that makes sense to be concerned for your welfare, but is there more to it?

It’s not his business, but he can’t help the train of thought once it’s on the tracks. Does what you share with Wilson go deeper than what it appears to be? Is there something growing between you both? Is it mere friendship, or romantic?

Fuck.

Do you like the guy?

He swallows, eyes flicking away from the admittedly good looking, much younger agent as the hideous feeling of jealousy starts to sting at his system. He has no right, no right whatsoever, to feel this way, and a part of him understands that, but once that horrid green little seed plants itself in his heart, he starts to feel the familiar wash of inferiority.

Not that he stands a chance with you now anyway—he set fire to that bridge long ago, but still… it was that damn shred of hope in the centre of everything. God, now is not the time for this.

He pushes it all away, returning to the calm and cool headed agent he’s had to force himself to be lately. It’s usually not such a struggle to be confident with his experience and skills in this position, but you made it highly difficult by being a part of this investigation.

As much as he’s enjoyed seeing and talking to you again, despite how icy and indifferent you’ve been acting towards him, he’ll be glad to see the last of you once this is all wrapped up.

“I’ll talk to her about it,” Marcus finally relents, unsure of if he's making the right choice.

He’ll just have to ensure nothing bad will come of this, that you’ll be safe and remain unharmed because, god knows, his heart wouldn’t be able to take that.

tags: @maievdenoir, @javier-pena, @lv7867, @dihra-vesa, @katronautt, @radiowallet, @januarystears, @missminkylove, @beskarprincessjenny, @mswarriorbabe80, @danidrabbles, @amneris21, @eri16, @absurdthirst, @hnt-escape, @acourtofsnakes, @ezrasbirdie, @mstgsmy66, @lovesbiggerthanpride, @coaaster, @sherala007, @greeneyedblondie44, @wyn-n-tonic, @you-got-me-starry-eyed, @shirks-all-responsibilities, @withasideofmeg, @harriedandharassed, @andruxx, @buckybarneshairpullingkink, @spideysimpossiblegirl, @prostitute-robot-from-the-future, @tanzthompson, @mad-girl-without-a-box, @hope-for-the-best-98, @fangirl-316, @christina-loves, @jediknight122, @hallway5, @xoxabs88xox, @nicolethered, @churchill356, @massivecolorspygiant, @just-here-for-the-moment, @gracie7209, @pinkie289, @lavenderluna10, @goodgriefitsawildworld

#marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike x you #marcus pike #pedro pascal x reader #the mentalist fic

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e-dubbc11 · 6 months

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The Perfect Gift

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Billy Russo x F! Reader

Warnings: Mostly fluff, mentions of Billy’s childhood

Word Count: 2K-ish

Summary: Billy opens up a little more to you; he talks a little about Christmas at the group home and what he really wanted when he was a child.

A/N: Just a little thought I had…what would a young Billy Russo want for Christmas? I had hoped to have this out before Christmas but that didn’t happen obviously, but I hope you enjoy it anyway! ♥️🎄

As always, thank you for reading! I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

Watching the snow gently float past the windows of the penthouse, you recalled your conversation with Billy a few nights ago.

After setting up the Christmas tree, the two of you were relaxing on the couch together with just the warm glow of the white tree lights illuminating the room.

Your legs were draped over his lap; he rubbed the fabric of your lounge pants in between his long slender fingers and you were lightly raking your nails against his scalp.

Two mugs of hot chocolate rested on the coffee table, cooling off because they were still too hot to drink. His mouth split into a childlike smile when he noticed you were making it. Billy loved chocolate, probably more than the average person which you thought was so cute.

He trusted you.

He trusted you with his heart and his body. Billy Russo had always been a very guarded man, he never let anyone in and he never let himself get attached to anyone. He had been afraid to but it was different with you.

The saying is “patience is a virtue.” You not only had the ability to wait but you waited calmly and didn’t give up on him when everyone else had. Pushing too hard would never get you anywhere; it was best for you to earn his trust by letting him talk whenever he was ready to.

You gently knocked on that door at times. Sometimes he would answer, other times he didn’t want to and that was ok. This was one of those times where he felt like talking.

“Ya know what I always wanted when I was young?” He had said.

Still scraping your nails against his scalp, you asked him, “What’s that, baby?”

Billy glanced down at his hands then turned to look at you. His endless brown eyes raked over you and he smiled slightly.

“A slingshot.” He said.

“One of the first years I was at the group home, they told us if we wrote a letter to Santa Claus, they would make sure it would get to him in time for Christmas. ‘What’s the ONE thing you really want?’ I remember them saying. Other kids asked for teddy bears, fire engines, or dolls but I really wanted a slingshot. I even remember promising to be really careful with it and not hurt anyone. But I still never got one…I figured either there was no Santa Claus or I didn’t behave enough because I watched every other kid get their teddy bear, fire engine, and dolls that they asked for but never what I wanted.”

Your heart broke for him. The dull ache in your chest persisted as you listened to him talk about that very painful memory. You pictured a very young Billy Russo, excited for Christmas morning and the one gift he wanted more than anything, the one thing he wished so hard for, only to be disappointed.

Regardless of whether or not it was a good idea to get a little boy a slingshot, you had a hard time picturing Billy being nothing but careful with it.

You know he would have treasured it and wouldn’t have done anything to have it taken away from him. But they never gave him that chance. Getting a hat or a baseball glove was nice but it wasn’t the same when everyone else got what they had asked for.

“I know it’s stupid…to hold onto something like that for all these years.” He had said.

With sad eyes and a warm smile, you cupped both of his cheeks and brushed his beard gently with your thumbs.

“It’s not stupid, my love.” You whispered, leaning in and pressing your lips to his.

The hot chocolate was finally cool enough to drink and he never mentioned it again. Billy changed the subject after that; he asked you what was your favorite Christmas gift you had ever received as a child.

A smile stretched across your face when you explained how much you loved snow globes but not your typical, run of the mill snow globes. The ones you love have black snow; they are more Halloween related than Christmas and when you were young, you found one while you were out shopping with your mother.

It had black snow and a haunted house inside. When you flipped the switch, the lights inside the house would flicker on and off.

You wanted it so badly.

She surprised you a couple months later by giving it to you for Christmas. She must have gone back to get it after you saw it in the store.

“One afternoon, I came home from school and the calendar on my desk was wet and my snow globe was gone. I put in on the top shelf of my desk. Well apparently, my younger brother wanted to see it and while trying to get it off of the top shelf, he dropped it and it broke. My mom cleaned it up before I got home and I was out a snow globe…the perfect snow globe in my eyes. I never did find another one.”

“I’m sorry, sweet girl.” He said with a warm smile.

“Ah, it’s ok…he was little. I totally get why he wanted to play with it…it was pretty awesome.” You said, with a little laugh.

“Well, I think we’ve bummed each other out enough today y/n, what about you?” He asked.

You nodded.

“Let’s go to bed, baby.” He said with a wink.

Billy took you by the hand and led you to the bedroom. He slept well that night, no nightmares and he held you extra close. Maybe sharing that memory was therapeutic for him. Whatever it was, you were happy he slept through the night.

And the only reason how you knew he slept through the night is because you did not. His story broke your heart and it occupied your mind all night long but you were going to make sure Billy would get the Christmas gift he’s always wanted.

Christmas Morning

Billy never missed an opportunity to spoil you and Christmas was no exception. The gifts he gave you were nothing short of amazing and he was very excited to give them to you. Dark chocolate from your favorite candy shop, and the sterling silver love knot earrings you had been eyeing at Tiffany and Co.

You thought it was so sweet he remembered; it had been months since you had seen them in the window. He made you breakfast and mimosa’s; it was such a perfect morning.

Then it was time to give Billy his gifts. You gave him a bottle of his favorite bourbon and put together a stocking with his name on it but you still had one more gift to give him.

“Thank you, sweet girl. I’m still not really use to receiving gifts.” Said Billy.

You stood up and walked over to the tree. “I still have one more left for you, handsome.”

Leaning over the back of the couch, you placed the gift in his lap, wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him on the cheek. The bristles of his beard tickled your lips as you felt him smile against your kiss.

“What is this, y/n? You have given me plenty already.” He said.

Billy tore away the wrapping paper. He covered his eyes, then swept his fingers down his cheeks, and let his jaw drop. He couldn’t believe what he was holding in his hands…he finally had his very own slingshot.

“Do you like it, Billy?” You asked, after several moments of silence.

Billy’s dark chocolate eyes shined with unshed tears; he was speechless.

“You didn’t have to do this, baby.” He said with a slight hitch in his voice.

Billy turned his head slightly so he was looking into your eyes, a wide smile stretched across his face and he leaned closer until his lips met yours.

You pulled away slightly and replied, “Yes I did, my love.”

His lips tasted slightly like orange juice and he gazed at you like you had hung the stars in the sky. The excitement in Billy’s eyes were that of that little boy he once was that finally got what he had always wanted.

“I love you…so much.” He whispered.

“I love you too, Billy.” You said.

Billy gave you a sly smile. “I actually have one more gift for you too, sweet girl.”

“What?” You asked.

He stood up, walked over, and reached all the way toward the back of the tree and pulled out one last present.

“Billy…” You started to say.

The package felt a little heavy as you gently ripped open the wrapping paper. You opened the opaque black box and inside was the same exact snow globe your brother had broken; your favorite childhood Christmas present that you thought was gone forever was in your possession once again.

“Oh my god…Billy how did you? Where did you? How?” You asked, stuttering over your words in disbelief.

It was actually in front of you. The same purple and orange castle, the black snow, and the black base. You turned it over to flip the switch and watched as the lights inside flickered on and off.

“It took me a little while but I finally tracked one down. Hopefully, your brother won’t break this one.” He chuckled a little. “It’s the right one though?” Asked Billy.

A tear streaked down your cheek and dripped onto the glass ball in your hands.

“Yes, yes it is my love…but,” You said and hesitated.

“But what, beautiful? Why are you crying?” He asked.

“Well, now I don’t really wanna tell you because you’re gonna think it’s stupid.” You said.

Billy smiled that perfect smile at you.

“Just tell me, baby.” He said.

“Billy, you always get me the most wonderful presents. I just really wanted to ‘win’ Christmas this year. And you had to go and do this.” You said, moving a stray piece of his raven colored hair out of his eyes.

Billy laughed, closed the gap between your bodies and kissed you again.

“Well you know how competitive I am, y/n. And how I like things to be perfect, especially for you.” He said with a wink. “And you did win, my love. I have everything I’ve ever wanted. I have you and now I have a slingshot.”

He swiped away the tears from your cheeks with his thumbs. You wanted nothing more than to just hold him for the rest of the day but you knew he wanted to play with his new toy.

“Thank you for my snow globe, Billy. This was the best kind of surprise.” You said.

Billy kept glancing over at his slingshot, aching to test it out.

“You wanna test out your new toy, don’t you.” You said with a warm smile.

He nodded with an evil smirk on his face.

A Christmas Story was playing on tv so you decided to recite a line from the movie.

“Ok, well don’t shoot any animals or birds.” You said with a laugh.

He replied with the second part of that movie quote. “Except the Bumpus’s dogs, right baby?”

You kissed him again and replied. “You really do get me, Mr. Russo…in every way.”

Billy Russo’s childhood was stolen from him. He grew up with nothing, no family and no possessions. Most of his friends from the group home turned to crime when they got older and it very well could have happened to Billy too, but it didn’t.

He had become successful and slowly but surely, he was learning to navigate his own feelings. Billy learned how to love and accept love shown toward him because of how patient you were with him.

Patience really is a virtue and you would try like hell to be as patient as humanly possible for the man you love because he really was worth it…and so much more.

Tag List: @wheresthesunshinesblog @rafaelakelley @idaoftheburningmind @snowkestrel @fakehappy27 @music-indie-tv @fictional-hooman @kayhi808 @munsonownsmyass @gijos @celestialams @k-marzolf @nutmeg17 @rosaleenablack @vaguekayla @qu1etwolf @danzer8705 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes

Others that might enjoy: @itwasthereaminuteago @fluffyprettykitty @jvanilly @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend @russosafehaven @mrsbillyrusso

If you’d like to be added (or removed from) my tag list(s) for the ever so handsome Billy Russo, just let me know and thank you again for reading! 💕💕💕 If I tagged you but you didn’t want to be, just let me know and I’ll never do it again.

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo fanfic #billy russo imagine #billy russo x female reader #billy russo x you #billy russo x y/n

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i23kazu · 2 years

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I'LL LEAVE YOU WITH ALL THAT I AM (you'll be okay, i promise)

warnings – none. characters – zhongli, xiao, ayato, kazuha, childe, diluc x gn!reader. genre – romantic angst. a/n – after you pass on :,) !! | please reblog!! it rly helps a starter blog like me ><

[zhongli. | 钟离]

death is normal to zhongli — he has witnessed eons of the life cycle, mortals screaming at the clutch of the reaper; but he had never expected his own lover to fall victim to the plays of the cycle. being a deity meant that you were blessed with strength and otherwordly powers, but you were never susceptible to eternal rest. he was crushed, of course: he couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat — it felt almost as if your life force had powered him in the past. he simply felt like a shell of himself, tiny grave nods and smiles to those who expressed their sympathy for his loss.

[xiao. | 魈]

for the first few nights after your passing, xiao was constantly haunted by your screams of pain. those final screams, raw and ragged, sobbing to celestia to take you away from this mortal life all while assuring xiao that you loved him, even after death. he couldn’t do anything except stare blankly at your tired face, not quite registering the scene in front of him. he could feel some sort of wetness staining his face, which felt strange because simply, yakshas do not cry.

[k. ayato. | 神里綾人]

ayato buried himself in his work shortly after your passing. he couldn’t get your pained face out of his grief-stricken mind — you left a tear in his heart, an ache that refused to leave him. he chose to surround himself with the problems of the yashiro commission instead, signing paper after paper and attending diplomatic meetings with an automated smile plastered onto his face. it was only one late night, a long night after a long day, that it was only after his tears blotched the ink he wrote that he even registered that he was crying.

[k. kazuha | 楓原万葉]

he should have been used to it by now, kazuha thinks — at this point, his life had been struck with so much loss and pain that death was a concept he was all too familiar with. the pain had never truly set in until the first month after you were gone, when he had set the bundle of flowers he plucked outside down by your grave. “here lies (y/n) (l/n),” he read, the words never leaving his mind. it was just one more death in his life. one more hole left to fill. one more person to grieve. it would be fine, wouldn’t it? kazuha thought. but no, it wasn’t, and it never truly will be.

[childe.]

the tsaritsa noticed how he hestitated with his blade, how his movements were slower, how he seemed pained to spar with people — you used to be his sparring partner until your passing. it hurt him to look at your favourite flowers, to look at the freckles on his face that you tenderly touched at night, the little strand of hair that always turned upwards that you tried to smoothen down. it hurt him, to watch your family slowly carry away the last of your belongings and out of the goodwill of his heart he had refused any of them, wanting to let your family treasure it all. he would remain with the thoughts of th ghost of you… and nothing else.

[diluc.]

diluc had not remembered this kind of pain for a long time — the same pain he felt when his beloved father had been killed. it hurt, of course. he had lost so many people over the course of his life — his father, mother, hell, he would consider that he even lost kaeya — he didn’t want to lose you too. but fate decided otherwise, because this man spent the rest of his days mourning. he winced at the overly-sympathetic looks people sent his way, none of them knew you the way he did, so why did they all act like your death affected them so much? it was only him who was hurt by your passing, and not them — as terrible as it sounded.

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sillygraham · 7 months

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Peace ✷

pairing ｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+ john marston x gn ! reader

warnings ｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+ no dialogue , angst...sorry , hurt/(no) comfort , abigail and john r not a thing in this , not proof read

a/n ｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+ i think I've seen a fic like this before but...i dont really remember? still in my head j am givinf them credits if i actually did read something like this,,, might've been a caption on a joiver art i saw idk . anyway i rly need to stop making everything angsty,,,

I will help you swim / I'm gonna help you swim

You knew you weren't going to see him again. Watching him from where you sat at the campfire, the gang was falling apart and you were planning your way to leave. Such little people left and your heart hurts whenever you see the condition Arthur is in.

Always having to deal with hearing Dutch say they just need one more score — but you know it's over. This is it.

John walks over to you and sits down next to you. You give him a smile and he returns it. The two of you sit in silence as the remainder in the members do the same.

Hearing Micah and Dutch whisper about something you move to grab Johns hand. Now your fingers interlocked, you look at him and he's staring at you too.

You truly don't want to just abandon him but you can't stay and asking him to leave with you seems unreasonable to do. Thinking to yourself, you decide to maybe share one last tender moment with him before your leave.

You get up and tug his arm and he gets the message; standing up as well. Then you lead him as far as you can from the camp, to a lake. He stares at you; confused but you squeeze his hand and he understands.

Releasing his hand the two of you slip out of your clothes and only have your undergarments. Stepping into the water, you reach your hand out for him to grab and he does.

You ease him in and instruct him to keep calm and let himself float. Promising you won't let him sink.

You stare at him as you keep him a float. Simply admiring him as his long hair makes it look like he has a halo — like he's an angel from the heavens above. He looks so peaceful but you know he's fearing of suddenly drowning and the fact he put his trust in you to keep him living makes your heart skip a beat.

The only sound the two of you hear being the rustling of trees, water splashing, and your humming. Feeling your eyes well up with tears, you close your eyes, trying your best to savor this moment.

It's so peaceful...you wish to stay like this as you open your eyes again and notice he's opened his too. He takes note of your teary eyes and his face twists with concern. You give him a smile of reassurance but it didn't help.

Yet he didn't say anything, just appreciating the silence as well — he never thought water would be this calming for him. You lean down and place a kiss on his forehead and he smiles.

You hear him mutter an 'I love you'...

That's all you hear, before everything sounds silent now. You try to respond but all you can get out is a small noise.

He doesn't mind, he knows you love him as well and wouldn't leave him.

And you do love him...you treasure him and everything about him. Ever since you met him, sure he was a piece of work but that was why you loved him.

So it leaves him confused and hurt when he can't seem to find you at the camp the next morning. He was hoping to ask if the two of you could go to the lake again but he can't find you.

He notices a piece of paper in your tent and he picks it up to read.

He feels his world crumbling as he reads it.

My Dearest, John,

I'm sorry for leaving you. I love you, I truly do, I just couldn't bring myself to ask you to leave with me. I don't know where I am going, think I'm just gonna wonder until I find where I can stay. I know it seems like a bad idea, but it's all I could think to do. The gangs falling apart — Dutch as gone mad. Please get out of there as well. I hope you can forgive me if our paths decide to cross again and god I hope they do. I'll miss you dearly, John

Love, [Name].

He couldn't believe it. You left without telling him? He would've said yes if you'd asked him. Why didn't you ask him? Did anyone else know about this? Were you safe? He prayed you were safe. Please be safe.

The day couldn't get anymore worse then this. You left without a word and his heart is broken. He's not sure if he could handle more.

But more he had to handle. Everything is falling apart, he has to leave. And that he does when he gets left for dead by Dutch. When he's forced to pick a side and Arthur makes him leave, to get away from this life, to go find you. He keeps Arthurs words in mind, after getting to a safer area, he sets off to find you.

He will find you — somehow; he needs to.

a/n 2 ｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+ lolol sry this is short . i think idk...i was listening to twin sized mattress and needed to write this ! hope u enjoyed ur read see u next time ^3^ mwah mwah

#john marston #john marston x reader #gn reader #gn!reader #john marston x gn reader #sillygraham #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #arthur morgan #fem reader #fem!reader #male reader #male!reader #masc reader #masc!reader #john marston x female reader #john marston x male reader

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beels-burger-babe · 1 year

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For Forever With You pt. 2

***This. Took. So. Much. Longer. Than. I. Wanted. It. Too. BUT IT'S DONE! Thank you all so much for being patient while I finished school and took a break, but I am BACK and I am so so glad to be. I hope you all enjoy this lovely little fic! -B***

Summary: A mortal human and an immortal wizard dating is great until something bigger than the world shakes them. War starts in the human world, and the supernatural worlds around them and Solomon can only watch as everything he has carefully nurtured for the past few years begins to crumble.

Part 1

Late 1930s

It turned out that life with you was riveting.

Solomon could hardly remember the last time he had felt so young and free.

With you, he took time to stop and smell the roses. With you, a decade that would usually be an insignificant droplet in his life has become a vibrant waterfall. With you, he is aware of every second, of every step, of every breath that he takes and just how valuable and rare they are to be shared with you.

He treasured you in a way that he hadn't treasured anything since he last sat on a throne in the days of old.

But just as his crown was eventually taken from him, so were the days of peace, joy, and love that he shared with you.

Lightning cracked outside your apartment windows as rain rattled the glass panes. He stood there, gaping at you as you walked around your apartment, packing your things.

"No," he whispered. "MC, please, you can't do this."

You glanced back at him in sympathy as you shook your head. "I'm sorry, Solomon. But you've heard the news; war is on our door step. I can't just sit back and watch, not when I have skills that help."

He gritted his teeth as he clenched onto the enlistment papers you had handed him to read — the very papers with your name written all over them. "If war is really coming, then we can go somewhere away from the war. Away from all of this."

You frowned as you blinked at your partner. "Wait, what?"

Solomon shoved a hand into his suit pocket, quickly magicking a wad of cash into existence before pulling it out in front of you. Your eyes bulged at the sight. "We run. We leave this damned country together. Somewhere the war will never find us. Somewhere safe."

You sighed as you put your hand over his and gently pushed the money back towards him. "I can't. These are my people. My friends. My co-workers. I can't just abandon everything when there's something I can do about it." Keeping your hands on his, Solomon's breath caught in his throat as you pulled him closer to you. "I'm sorry. I understand that you're concerned. But think of it this way, I'm drafted as a telegrapher. I won't even be on the front lines-"

"The front lines don't matter when there are bombs involved," He couldn't help but hiss back, his hands twisting around the money to grip tightly onto yours. "Hospitals were targeted last time. Camps obliterated. What if you're there when- Please, love. I ... I don't want to lose you."

He couldn't lose you. Not yet. Not this soon. He thought he still had decades left with you, not hours.

Your expression softened as you leaned forward and gently pecked Solomon's lips. He savored the sensation of your soft touch like as though it was his final breath of air before death. He clung to every second of your attention and affection that you gifted him with grasping, never-satisfied, hands.

He leaned into your delicate touch, as you cupped his cheek and pulled away. "Solomon, I will do everything in my power to come back to you. Just ... Promise that you'll be here for me when I return."

He closed his eyes, putting of his weight against you as he pulled his lips into a thin line. He wanted to make that promise, but there was more than one reason why he was asking you to run away with him.

You weren't the only one being called to fight — only his was with greater powers that he had been hiding from you.

"I'll do my best," he whispered instead. His heart clenched as he squeezed tightly onto you. "And ... When all this is all done, when we find each other again ..." his heart ached as he met your confused stare, "We never leave each other again. We ... We become forever."

He watched as your breathing halted and realization slowly lit behind your eyes. "A-Are ... Solomon, are you saying that you want to-"

He gathered your lips with his, suffocating the words before they dared enter the world. "Don't say it. Not yet. When all this is over."

You shakily nodded, new tears lining your eyes as you stared at him. "O-Okay. When this is over."

It turns out that was all easier said than done.

The war wasn't quick — Solomon didn't know why he expected it to be. It dragged on for a torturous amount of time filled with seemingly endless evolutions of ways to tear each other apart. Not a day went by that he didn't think of you and yet ...

He hadn't dared to send you a letter, or contact you in anyway.

Solomon didn't doubt that you had attempted to reach him, but he wasn't anywhere close to his normal address. He was traveling across realms, taking part in the supernatural side of the war. He was constantly surrounded by beings who had the ability to snuff out mortal lives with the snap of his fingers — he couldn't let them know about you.

So he went silent. He never spoke of you to anyone. He kept an eye on you and where he knew you were drafted from a distance and ensured that you were safe.

He hated it. God, he hadn't known that being apart from someone could hurt so badly. But he knew it was for the best.

Years passed. Victory was finally earned. The violence and blood shed began to settle, and the world became still once more.

So now he stood outside of the apartment that he hoped you still called home, a bouquet of blue hyacinths in hand and fear stewing in his gut.

With a deep breath, he raised a hand, and knocked on the door.

"Just a moment!"

Several locks clicked and suddenly you were there, looking just as captivating as the day you left.

Your eyes widened as they met his, your butter-soft, kissable lips parting shock. "Solomon," God, he missed the sound of his name dripping from your tongue.

"Hello," he whispered in adoration.

Hearing his voice seemingly shook you out of whatever stupor you had been in, as the beautifully stunned expression on your face melted into fierce furociousness and you began to slam the door.

The wizard quickly stepped forward and caught it. "MC, please! Just a moment!"

"No!" You shouted from behind the door. "You do not get to skip back into my life after abandoning me during a literal war!"

Solomon winced as the heavy oak door rammed against the side of his foot. "My love-"

"You don't get to call me that," you snapped, the door ripping back open. He nearly choked on his own spit at the heat behind the glare you were pointing at him. "I wrote to you daily. I called. And not once did I receive word back. I tried to visit you in the middle of all this mess, you know," you stepped out from your doorway and was now standing nose-to-nose with Solomon. "You weren't home. I asked about you, and even our closest neighbors somehow didn't know who you were. I thought you were dead, Solomon!" His chest ached at the utter grief in your voice as you screamed at him. Your lip quivered as a broken gasp bubbled up them. "Where were you? I- I needed you, and you left me after everything! After you- You had hinted that-"

He moved closer to you, regret pooling in his stomach regardless of how he knew his actions were for the best. Although you may not have wanted to be anywhere near him at this exact moment, he couldn't stand there and watch you fall apart. Without another word, he gathered you tightly into his arms, pulling you as impossibly close as he could and curling himself around you.

For the first time since he first saw your name on your enlistment papers, he could breathe.

"I'm sorry," he whispered as you sobbed into his chest, your balled fists punching against him. "I'm so sorry for leaving you alone. I ... I thought I was protecting you."

Your movements stilled at his explanation. "What do you mean? Are you a spy?"

There was no stopping the snort that ripped out of him. "Oh definitely not. Just ..." he let out a shaky breath and smiled at you. "Let's take this inside. I think it's finally time that I explained a few things."

You stared at him, and for a moment he feared this was the end, that he was about to lose the only mortal that he had truly cared about for centuries. But then you sighed, and you dropped your beautiful eyes to the ground as you stepped back and pushed open the door. "Fine," you breathed and simultaneously breathed hope back into his soul. "Fine. Come in, just ... Talk."

He nearly fell to the ground in relief, but quickly walked in, whispering thank yous under his breath as he did.

After an awkward silence as you made tea (complete with a splash of rum) and some cold sweets you tossed onto a plate, you met him back in the living room and sat sternly across from him. "You have one and only one chance," your words blew over him like the tundra's wind. "Speak."

He swallowed thickly, wiping his unusually calmy palms on his pant legs before taking a deep breath. "This ... This is going to sound insane. You might not believe me, but please, trust that I am telling the truth," your eyes narrowed suspiciously on him as you took a sip of your tea. He nodded in acknowledgment of your attention. "I'm a wizard, an immortal one at that. I was called by the powers of Heaven and Hell to fight the supernatural elements of the war and, as I do every time I leave a location, I wiped the memories of our peers before departing." You looked at him, face remaining neutral, before you slowly set down your drink. "Get out," you hissed, the venomous anger that lay barely restrained under your skin, finally beginning to break loose.

Solomon's heart plummeted. "Love, please. I promise, I'm telling the truth!" You laugh, your expression morphing into one of pure disbelief. "Are you kidding me?! Wizards? Supernatural? Do you even hear yourself?" You choked on your words as you shook your head at him. "If you wanted to lie, you could've done so without mocking my intelligence. Get out."

"I can prove it!" He shouted desperately, rising to his feet. "I can show you!" Without waiting for a response, he began moving his hands in familiar semantics, whispering incantations under his breath as glyphs float in the air for a moment before suddenly a large tome apparated into existence and dropped into his hands. He rushed towards you, flipping open the book and showing you the contents. "This is my spell book. Every spell I've ever created and/or mastered is in here. Look for yourself."

Your eyes widened, jaw dropping a little as you took in the display and the book now being thrust into your hands. You shakily flipped through the fragile pages and sure enough there was page after page of strange symbols and words written in a language you didn't understand. There was a tingling presence to the book that ran through your fingertips up your arms and caused you to shiver.

Solomon slowly comes to stand beside you, watching you take in the precious artifact in your hands. "I wasn't lying," he whispered softly. "I didn't want to go. They didn't give me a choice. Then it was too dangerous for me to stay in contact. I didn't want to risk you getting pulled into an ever greater war than you were already fighting."

At that moment, he wished he could read your mind. Your lips pursed as you continued flipping through the pages. His stomach twisted in knots the longer you perused. There was always the chance that you still wouldn't believe him and would brush him off. There was always the possibility you would believe him, but would be disgusted and would turn him away regardless.

It had all happened before. He didn't want it to happen again. Not with you. But he had no say in the matter.

The snap of the books pages slapping shut pulls his attention back to you as you look up at him. You silently hand it back to him and then you stare. Your eyes dig deep into his soul, they crawl under clothes and beneath his skin, they bury themselves into every mark on his flesh, until they close and you let out a tired sigh, falling against your chair. "That's- It's a lot to take in Solomon," you breathe.

He nods, shifting on his feet and trying to get some grasp on your body language, but the mask you've built for yourself is carefully locked in place and no longer budges for him. "I know," he whispers. "I know it is. But that's the truth, dearest. That's why I left. It's why no one remembers me, but you. Please believe me." You sigh, and run a hand through your hair. "I do, I just-" you cut yourself off, troubled eyes looking into the distance but not truly seeing anything. "This brings out so many more questions. How many other lies did you tell me? If you really are this immortal powerful being, what are you doing here? Why-" Your voice cracks and you finally look at him again — tears, that he has always hated but is now the cause of, lining your eyes. "Why did you chose to haunt me?" He can't handle it. He moves closer, getting down on his knees before you as he takes your hands into his own. "I don't haunt you. I don't have that ability," he lightly jokes before getting serious once more and coming just a little bit closer until your legs brush against each other. "I love you. It's true that I have told you lies before to protect my identity and keep you safe, but that has always been true. I stayed here because I love you. You enchant me, MC. In ways that, even with hundreds of lifetime's of knowledge, I cannot begin to understand," your breath hitches as he runs his thumbs across your knuckles. He leans in and ever so delicately presses a kiss to them.

"Please," he begs with the voice of a broken man whose only thing he had to lose was sitting before him. "I don't want to lose you. Not when we still have time. Let me prove myself to you again. No more lies. Just you. Just me." You hands slip out of his, and a single finger comes under his chin, tilting it up until he was looking at you. For the first time that evening there was something different glimmering in your eyes — a willingness and acceptance. "Alright," you say. "You get one more chance," your other hand swoops around to caress his hair, brushing it up and back away from his face lovingly. "Show me your strange funky world, magic man. All of it this time. Show me the real, Solomon." His body slumps in relief, silver eyes overflowing with the love for you that he has been floating in without you being there to share it with. "I will," he nearly whines. "I will. I promise." And he did. It wasn't easy, but he spent the next year showing you all that he had always fought so hard to keep secret. He introduced you to magic, to other strange and greedy witches. He showed you his demon pact symbols that are burned into his skin, and brought back delicacies from the other realms and taught you about their existance. Slowly, you were introduced to a whole other layer of the man you were already enamoured with. A man who wasn't sketchy or mysterious as people so often thought him to be — but who was curious, childlike in his wonder, and hungry for the knowledge of everything around him.

This Solomon was lighter, even happier than the one you loved before.

And after a year of magic and witches and spells and demons and angels, you approched Solomon as he worked on a potion in your kitchen and pulled out a ring.

You asked to marry this strange wonderful man, and Solomon felt the worlds around him still. You asked to stay by his side, not just for this life time, but to aid you in doing so forever, and Solomon felt the air escape his lungs.

You asked to swear yourself to him and him to you in a pact that no magic could ever comprehend, and Solomon's heart nearly exploded alongside the potion on the stove.

With shaking hands, and trillion reassurances, he said yes. And with a single potion, a piece of paper, and beautifully personal ceremony the two of you were bound together, until the ends of time. It took another month after your marriage and consumption of your immortality potion for him to realize that this was real.

He would never be alone again. ***Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah, I've been trying to write this for so so so long and I'm so happy I finally got it done! Thank you all so much for your patience and hanging around while I worked on these two! I love them so much. I hope you guys do too! Thanks! -B***

Taglist:

@thegrimgrinningghost @henry-and-the-seven-lords @satans-beloved-riv @cosmixbun @sufzku @obey-mes-treasure @kissed-by-a-dementor @yukihaie @justtiarra @mammoneybb @poly-bi-mf @burrixino @pumpkins-mainside-blog @acousticpen @sucker-for-angst-and-fluff @itskrispy @10paradox10 @vallison-rea @ivoryclive @newfangled-artistry @pumpkinpatchkid @chirikoheina @sailboat21 @theother4 @todoroses @circus-of-freaks @mcx7demonbros @bloopthebat @simpinginthecorner

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