#my deepest fear is that i really am as close to the end as i think

[spitdrunken]

more bill please. i need him to laugh at me and talk to me in a very sweet voice about how dumb and weak i am and how i only need him. maybe put his fingers in my mouth as a treat

notes: humiliation (!!!), implied mind-reading, implied obsessive behaviour, bill is mean(!!!) and finally: unreality warning (sorry for doing something creative with your request at the end /lh)

"aww, look at you! poor little meatbag, leaking soooo much from your mouth-hole..." he speaks with unrestrained glee, laughter always seconds away.

bill's fingers are digging into your mouth. your jaw hurts from being open for so long. though they're relatively small, his fingers still count as intrusions. he digs them into your molars, and rubs them along your gums. he dips them into the spit gathered underneath your tongue, and tugs at the muscle in question. it'd be more difficult not to drool all over yourself in this situation.

"must've been soooo hard to live your life before i came around, huh? so stupid and silly i'm surprised you even made it this far! just so you know, there really have been multiple points in your life where you almost died, without even knowing it... but now you have me! even a dumb meatsack like you can cling to existence when you've got a guy like me looking out for you, huh?"

(still, as much as it humiliates you, you cannot deny that this is doing something for you. your face is ablaze, your heart is racing, your breaths are quick. if you try, you can perhaps convince yourself that it's fear, rather than anything else.)

when you simply close your eyes, you can almost imagine that bill is telling you the sweetest things. he speaks to you with the tone and cadence of an owner fussing over their still-waddling puppy, the knowledge of superiority ever-present. but, really, bill's voice is too shrill for any whispering of sweet nothings. it shatters any semblance of peace.

"i take offense to that, you know! when someone's indulging some of your deepest fantasies, the least you can do is not insult the guy." the demon in question chirps. the lighthearted manner in which he says it is a mere smokescreen. if your mere instincts telling you so aren't enough, his fingers dip in too far down your throat and you gag, bile tickling the furthest edge of your throat.

"sorry..." you garble around his fingers, tongue twitching and curling around them in an attempt to get the message across. bill merely hums in response, pinching your tongue once more for good measure.

"it's okay," bill cooes at you. "i know it's not your fault. so many lives bouncing around in your noggin somewhere, just out of reach. you're just a single-faced, single-minded vessel for something much, much larger than yourself, aren't you? and that's the most interesting part about you."

for a moment, your mind halts and stutters, wondering if you made it up. this is not... sexy talk, is it? this is not like anything you were expecting. in all honesty, you're a bit confused. bill is no longer looking at you. instead, his pupil is darting all over the room, seeming to search for something, but failing to find it. in the end, he merely looks up.

"i know you're there. seeing this all through this... blank slate. i know everything, and you, you--" he laughs, shrill and short. "you are practically oozing with desperation. you are! look, kid. i get it. i'm a real catch. but instead of reading words on a paper, maybe just summon me instead, huh? i'm sure we can come to some kind of agreement! ...but maybe if you try hard enough, some of your words might reach me, too."

bill pulls his fingers out of 'your' mouth and, though they're still slick with spit, he snaps them. "end scene!"

[redbleedingrose]

Hey it’s the anon that had the nightmares. Headcanons about dealing with nightmares would be absolutely amazing if you’re up for it, thank you so much. You truly have no idea how much you’ve helped me 🥺

Of course dear!!! Here you go!!! (sorry this took so long sweetheart)

Edit: This ask has been sitting in my drafts for months and I am so sorry I didn't post it until now. Writers block and general insecurity does crazy things to me.

How the Bat Boys would help you with your nightmares!

Rhysand

Okay, the thing about Rhys is that I think he remains fully aware of your presence at all times, even in his sleep. He can feel you next to him, your body pressed against his, your heart beat thumping at his side, the weight of your head on his shoulder, he can feel it.

He also, is very in tune with your emotional state. Maybe it has to due with your mating bond, but tbh, I think his love for you has brought him a number of powers that allows for the deepest sort of connection to you. He can feel the emotions that you feel. It can go as far as Rhys feeling the roof of his mouth ache when you burn your mouth from drinking too hot tea, it can go as far as him feeling like someone has poked him hard when he is entirely alone in his office (when it is Cass who is poking at you, whining at you to share your summer imported mandarain oranges with him) and if Rhys really sits on it, he can also feel your mixed emotions of amusement and teasing towards Cass in that moment.

So I think that if you were having a nightmare, Rhysand would know. He would feel your heart racing from fear, it would make his own stutter. He would feel the panic pumping through your veins, and it would nearly send him into a frenzy.

Rhys would be awake, shushing your tired whines, and peppering the softest kisses all over your face to slowly ease your mind. The high lord of night would absolutely slip into your mind like butter, easing all the fired up neurons that have built up from your nightmare, slowly detangling the knots of emotion twisted inside your mind without waking you. He would pull you impossibly close, his heart beating against yours, his hands tangled in your hair, rubbing at your scalp, and naturally, you tuck your forehead into his neck, a quiet sigh leaving your once quivering lips.

Your nightmare would have dissolved without your knowledge, and you would be lulled into a dreamless sleep with your mate holding you close, his warm cheek resting on your head with one hand resting at the back of your neck and the other hand stroking up your spine, protecting you from anything and everything, even your own mind. You would wake up without any memories of the nightmare, and if I am being honest, Rhysand wouldn't want to remind you of it either, so he keeps this part of his duty towards you to himself.

Cassian

I am not gonna lie, this male is a heavy sleeper. He is dead to the world once his head hits the pillow. And he freaking snores too. Actually, he is famous for how loud he snores. Cassian can be heard snoring from across the house of wind. And initially, it was really hard for you to fall asleep to. In fact, you would force Cass to stay awake until you fell asleep because you just could not with his snoring.

And now?? Now this fucking male has you unable to fall asleep without his snoring. You need his heated, and I mean this male is a literal furnace, nearly naked body beneath you, with his burly arms wrapped tight around your waist, with your head pressed against his male tits, your legs tangled with his, in order to fall asleep. The snoring has become its own sort of white noise to you, and without it?? You will stay up the entire night and be extremely grumpy the next morning, often resulting in the back of Rhysand's head getting smacked for his taunting. (if Cass is out on a mission for longer than a day or two, Rhys actively avoids you for fear that you will end up choking him for sending his general away. Not that that has ever happened before.... nope... never................)

So. On good nights, you are usually snoozing it away with your hunk of a male, and you end up waking up to a lovely "surprise" poking at your tummy and a male who is too turned on by you to be ashamed in the slightest.

On bad nights though, on nights where you worry about Cassian, on nights where all of your fear of losing your loving mate culminates into nightmares, don't ever doubt that Cass wouldn't be there for you. Cassian is the general of the night court of a reason. He, like Rhys and Az, has been trained, for centuries, to be aware of his surroundings, even in his sleep. So while he might sleep heavy, his body are attuned to taking note of his environment, and that means, his body and his bond is focused on you throughout the night.

So he does wake up to you tensing, to your quickened breathing, to your restlessness, immediately too. His eyes would snap open, with his arm around your waist firm and tight, his other automatically reaching for the dagger he has hidden under his pillow, looking out for any signs of immediate danger to you. Not to himself. To you. His instinct does not edge towards self preservation. It hasn't since he met you. His instinct is to protect you at all costs.

Once he realizes that there isn't any physical threat that is causing your distress, his attention goes back to you, an ache burrowing itself in his chest as he notices your hand is clenching into a fist against him, as he notices your face is screwing up in fear, as he notices your body shaking. His mouth drys at the sight of you looking so scared, and he wouldn't be able to help himself.

Cass would murmur quiet reassurances, rubbing at the space between your shoulder blades and planting kisses onto your furrowed brows, "wake up sweetheart, s'jus a nightmare" and "shhh, I got you love, I'm here" and "s'okay baby, you're fine" and "c'mon, that's it, that's my girl, wake up f'me beauty"

When you wake with a start, he hushes your cries and pulls you in even closer. He would turn you both onto your sides, your front melding against his with his arm tucked under your head and around your hip with his leathery paper thin wings shield you both from the outside world. It's this warm cocoon that he forms around you where you spend the rest of the night and into the early morning.

At first, you would apologize for waking him up so early, knowing that he has training in the morning with Az and the others, but he dismisses that immediately, stressing to you that his only concern, at this time and forever, is you. He would stay awake with you, attentively listening to your ramblings about your nightmare, playing with the ends of your hair while you tell him all your secret fears. And he would kiss you and promise to protect you no matter what, and he would promise to keep you safe. Eventually, you would end up falling asleep, the closeness of your mate, his gentle breathing, and the warmth he brings relaxing you enough to a dreamless rest. And Cass, the ever diligent and loving male, would stay awake for the rest of the morning, skipping out on training to watch over the love of his life and make sure that you don't have any other nightmares.

In the morning, after you wake up feeling rested, Cass would finally let you go, a soft kiss to your lips and a wink in goodbye, only to come back within ten minutes, bringing you some warm, fresh chai that he made for you with some oatmeal that you both share in bed together. You spend the rest of the day cuddled up with your mate with slow and sweet love making, hushed oaths to each other to protect one another, and long naps in between.

Azriel

Azriel is a completely attuned to you. And so are his shadows. He has one that you have noticed that constantly follows you around, that learns every single thing about you to report back to its master. And then there are a couple that you haven't noticed. Ones that stay hidden in the darkness with full intent to take care of anything that puts you in harms way. And it stays that way always, regardless of the timing.

So at night, when your heart rate jumps, your blood pumping through your veins, your eyes furrowing shut too tightly, the slightest bit of sweat breaking out on your skin, they are the first to notice. And they are the quick to notify their master about it, hurridely slithering to his ears to wake Az so he can help you.

Azriel would initially try to soothe you in your sleep, his heart aching at the thought of you being afraid of something he can't control. A quick command to his shadows has the curtains to your balcony eased apart, the light from the moon and stars beaming in through the large glass doors. His scarred hands would stroke at your cheeks ever so gently, your mating bond humming at the barely there touch. Az wouldn't hesitate to place his lips in the space between your brows, moving from one soft edge of your face to the next with small pepperings of kisses.

He would thumb at your edge of your jaw, the calloused tip of his finger reminding you in your sleep that he is there. That he didn't leave sometime in the night. That he would never leave. That he would always be there to protect you. To care for you. To love you. He knows that you have your own traumas that you deal with, and he wants you to feel in control of your problems. Nightmares... they make you feel out of control. And he is there to give the power right back to you.

Most nights, Azriel's simple touch is enough to soothe you. I'm ngl, it does stroke his pride a little (a lot) that he is able to calm his mate with just the touch of his hands. With something that he used to keep hidden behind his back when he talked to others, something that he would cover up from the shame of his past, something that he feared would one day lead to a disgusted look on your face. And on those nights that his touch is enough, once you are settled, he pulls you closer to him, tucking his arm around your waist and wrapping one of his large wings around both of your figures, burying his face into your neck so he can fall back asleep to the feel of your pulse against his skin.

On the nights where the nightmares are just too much, where you are too deep in the dream that you can't feel anything but the fear, Azriel will wake you. He loathes the thought of disturbing your sleep, he hates that you will most likely not feel rested in the morning, but his heart shatters into the tinest pieces when he can feel the end of your mating bond crying out for him in your sleep. So he lays a firm hand on your forehead, his other hand rubbing at your shoulder, tenderly shaking you awake: "wake up my love, it's alright," and "you're fine my sweet girl, I'm here," and "I promise I'll always be here my dove, now be a good girl for me an wake up"

He would hush you as you startle awake, the jolt of your body causing him to wrap his arms tightly around you with mumbled, "that's it, there's my starshine" and "s'okay moon, it was just a bad dream" and after a good long while of him calming you down, he would whisper into your hair with a final kiss to the top of your head, "c'mon love, let's get you something to drink."

Azriel wouldn't let you lift a finger or a toe for that matter. Male would take your comforter and wrap you up like a burrito and then carry you all the way down to the kitchen where he settles you onto the counter, sending you the most beautiful, tired smile while he makes you some chamomile tea. He would be slow in each of his steps, the small smile on his pretty lips never leaving his face as he feels your gaze watching his every movement. He adores doing things like this for you. He craves doting on you. He thinks you are his treasure. A gift from the mother herself. And he plans to make sure you feel that way, all the time, forever, until you and him only exist as stars in the night sky.

A/N: 😫🫠🥲 Sorry this was a bit repetitive, but I hope you liked it ❤️❤️❤️

[spencerified]

Hiii, well, English is not my first language, sorry for that. I'm not a writer, but a big reader, so welcome to the community ^^

I was thinking about a reader who works in BAU, gets kidnapped, and for some reason the su-des was filming, and the reader is forced to confess that she like Spencer, (The whole team saw it).

As if the su-des were playing a game like truth or dare, and ended up reluctantly confessing that, the reader having a lot of confidence. If you read this and do it I would be very grateful, ily^^♡

(Can be fem!reader or g!reader, it doesn't matter, I repeat, if you read it and do it I will thank you for the rest of my life)

hiii!!! first of all thank you so much for trusting me with your request 🫶 this came out a little (a lot) longer than I thought it would but i hope it's still what you expected and that you enjoy it!! any other requests are very welcome ♡ lots of hugs for everyone

✿

"Stop."

You're relieved that your weak attempt, your last resort at trying to get the Unsub to show you mercy, makes him stop in his tracks. You still feel the ghost of the edge of a knife itching against your skin, when it was unclear if he really wanted to hurt you or if it was just an attempt at getting you to break. To get you to spill your most deepest, darkest secrets, the ones hidden within the depths of your heart. 

Hidden even from Spencer, who looks at you from (presumably) miles away, through a sketchy live transmission sent to Garcia. Untraceable, of course. He desperately wishes he could just snap his fingers and make it all go away. Every tear, every ache, every whisper of pain. Wants to build a world where you won’t know suffering ever again.

Hotch's voice when he first trained you for what Penelope called 'The Non-Fun Parts of The Job' resonates in your hazy mind. Be aware your surroundings, he said, and you wonder if he might be disappointed on the other side of the camera haphazardly propped up a few feet in front of you, it's red light mocking you with each blink.

"Why are you doing this?" You say, emitting now only a pitiful vestige of your voice which is usually never afraid to speak on anything. It seems amusing to him because seconds later, a cheshire grin blossoms in his face, causing the hair on the back of your neck to stand. 

"Oh, you have no idea who I am, do you?" He says. You've never thought a person could inflict so much fear with only a look and a few words. "I don't remember you either, so no hard feelings. But the BAU has... humiliated me. Took everything I love away from me. My family, my job, my friends..." His voice grows low to the point that if you weren't so on edge, you would have to strain your ears to hear him. "They may think getting away for years feels like a reward to me, but they don't live what I live. 

Watching the TV waiting for the next time the BAU finally remembers me over the rest of the cases they have to push away to the… dusty corners of their file room because of their incompetency and decides to spread my picture all over the news once again... it's no way to live." 

The man's voice is so calm you constantly wait for the other shoe to drop. Like when you're so scared on a rollercoaster and your only option is to close your eyes and wait for the inevitable drop. It doesn't come. It seems like years of inflicting pain on others, and then years of hiding away from the consequences are an upstanding process on how to numb a person.

Spencer sees it too. He sees that this Unsub just won't lose control, and that scares him. Because someone this put together – in a rather bizarre way, wouldn't even bat an eye were he to decide on hurting you. And Spencer would have to watch it all, powerless, scribbling over and over again over his wide map spread out on the conference room's table. 

"I'm sorry..." You lie through your teeth. "That you have to live that way."

Fake empathy towards him, Hotch echoes on your head again. You must be reliving his instructions in your head as a way to keep your cool. You bite your lip so hard you fear it might bleed when you realize you're doing it. He's delusional, you reason. He thinks the BAU wanting to catch him for murdering at least 7 couples in public parks is somehow a way to wrong him. 

"Well, thank you," he says, a bitter tone bleeding into his words. "But it's not enough. Luckily for you, you know just what to do that will be." 

"I don't have any secrets," you confess. Outside of the BAU, you don't have a very interesting life. Go home, say hi to the neighbors in your building, sometimes smile at someone while shopping groceries. No burning, forbidden love affair – mostly because the only candidate you want is endearingly oblivious –, no superhero side quests that would make for an interesting conversation at lunch break with your coworkers. No skeletons in your closet, no secret vices or scandalous secrets that would obliterate your pristine reputation amongst your coworkers. Not even one involving the most important one of them. Of course not. 

"I'm sure you do. Everyone does," he circles your chair. You want to sob when you lose sight of him and feel his presence looming on the back of the chair. Not knowing when your life could potentially be taken away from you is jarring. 

"I don't," you say. You don't need to use the word 'please' for him to know that you're begging for your life. "I really don't." 

Pull yourself together, you think. This is not how a BAU agent must react when faced with a threat. But then again, you've only been here for less than a year, and maybe you just don't have it in you to keep your cool the way the rest of your team would. You take a harsh deep breath. 

Spencer has a rather uncanny ability to tune the world out. When he's engrossed in his job, his books, his facts, it's easy to lose himself on them. Specially when the only person who usually listens to him when he externalizes them is away. 

Not away, he thinks. That makes it seem like you're taking a vacation. A small voice in the back of his head wonders where would you go if you were given the chance to. Then, he remembers he might never find out if he doesn't figure this out soon. The case has the team's complete and utter attention, and he knows these are some of the best minds in the Bureau. But he still feels like it's his responsibility to figure it out; he can't help but think that it's what it's expected of him. He wonders if that expectation stems from being a prodigy, or because he's so close to you that it only makes sense it would be him. 

He feels a rush flowing through his veins when he feels like he's close to figuring it out. Then, he's harshly brought back to the reality where he hogs the conference room's table with his map and the team scatters over the rest of the room, working on who-knows-what, by a series of worrying hurried breaths of yours. 

"Okay, okay!" You say, when he roughly yanks you by the hair to keep you still. The knife you thought was previously discarded hovers over your ear. 

"One clean slash, and you'll be out like a light."

You don't find it in yourself to want to test the veracity of that theory out. 

So you realize your only shot at getting out of here might be giving him what he wants. You can't stall anymore, and one side of your brain tells you that it's your team, they'll get here in time, and the other asks itself if that might be a thing that just happens in unrealistic crime shows. 

"I..." You start. You wonder if Spencer is watching this. You would rather have every agent in the FBI hear this, all 35,000 of them, instead of him. You whimper when the knife inches closer to your skin. You can't die. Not here. Is keeping your perception of dignity worth losing your life? "I like my coworker." 

It doesn't satisfy the Unsub. "Which one?" 

You want to refuse to answer, to curl into a ball and cry until you recover the false sense of confidence you walk around with that has now been shattered. You'll get it back, eventually. Not if you die. So you toughen it up, and breathe deep. "Spencer." 

It sounds so stupid. A mere speck in the grand scheme of things, of problems and situations anyone would expect an FBI agent to have. But it's the hardest thing you've ever had to say.

And it's the hardest thing he's ever had to hear. If it were in any other situation, he wouldn't have put it past him to jump in glee. You, with your head always held high, never one to shy away from showing who you were to the world, with your gentle soul that lured him in even when he tried to keep his heart safe from rejection... You liked him. But that's not his focus right now. Even if every single train of thought in his brain has come to a catastrophic halt, he has to focus, because he can't take one more second of seeing you trying to keep calm with a knife to your throat. 

A picture of Hannah Davis, one of the victims from the original case, hung up on the wall behind you ends up giving the Unsub's whole act away. Still, it doesn't make a lot of sense for Hannah to have hung up a picture of herself in her own house, so the team splits to cover both the boyfriend's house and Hannah's. 

It's just a precautionary measure. Spencer knows exactly where you are.

"Oh, Dr. Reid. Idiots interrogated me about once or twice as a witness and he was a real boom with the ladies at the precinct back then. Let me tell you, if I had his charm, I wouldn't have had to resort to killing couples to get off." 

The Unsub lets go of your hair with no warning and your head hangs down as if you were a rag doll. You find it in yourself to hum uninterestedly at his sick attempt of joking. 

You don't think you've ever felt your heart beating as hard as it is right now. And when you tune out the sound of the man talking and rambling about God knows what, you realize that the thumping you hear in your ears isn't your heart. That maybe the creaking on the stairs isn't a product of your delirious mind conjuring up a sequence where you magically get saved from the bad guy.

You sigh when the man behind you yanks you back again. This time, you feel the need to put on a facade. Make it look like you’ve come to terms with it; if this is how you go, then so be it. The knife on your throat makes your heart rate pick back up, but you don't whimper. You wonder if you're trying to keep it together for yourself or because you are ashamed of the image your team will have of you after this if you don't.  

You hear Morgan kick the door down. Usually, you're on the other side of this. You help talk an Unsub down, and then make fun of Morgan after for kicking the door instead of opening it like a civilized FBI agent. Talking them down doesn't always work. Sometimes, you end up with another casualty added to the case. In the worst outcome, you end up with two more. You're not as unafraid as you thought. Please, God, you think. This cannot be the end. 

Morgan screaming at the Unsub to put the knife down falls in deaf ears. It's only white noise to you now, and maybe that stems from the fact that you have been held hostage for what felt like days with no food, no water, no sun, and you feel so close to it being over. Soon, you'll be on a hospital bed, eating food that only the thought of makes you feel nauseated but even that is better than this. Maybe Spencer will sneak you a treat. Or maybe that's wishful thinking. 

As you're dwelling on what the consequences of him potentially hearing your confession might be, you hear a gun go off. You don't even react when the pressure exerted on the right side of your neck, the weight of the arm holding you in place suddenly fades away as your head falls forward. 

You hear the thud of a body hit the ground. Maybe we can still be friends, you try to reason. Spencer drops his smoking gun to a side as Morgan tries to untie your hands behind your back. Maybe he'll reciprocate, or is that too much of a delusion to have even in your incoherent state? Spencer holds you in his arms when you have nothing pushing you back against the chair anymore. 

"I'm sorry," you sob into his shoulder, not an ounce of strength remaining in your body. You were not made for this. Not made for withstanding this kind of torment. If you mean the torment of being kidnapped, or the torment that awaits you once you're not hysterically sobbing in front of the man you're not ready to admit you love, you're not sure. "I'm so sorry." 

"Hey," he says, tenderly. You don't know how much time it's gone by since the last time you saw him. The only thing you know is that this kind of gentleness is now unfamiliar after harsh hands engraved themselves all over you. "Hey, it's okay. What are you sorry for?" 

"I'm sorry," you say, worn out, the words echoing around your head like a DVD screensaver. You then register his question. "For saying that." 

You don't specify what. It's not necessary; it never has been with Spencer. Somehow, you both know exactly what the other means, with just a glance, a brush of an arm when somehow you find yourself trapped in his orbit once again. 

"It's alright," is it? Part of him wonders if being with you might have become even more unattainable now than it was before. If you'll push him away because the memory of the circumstances of your confession is too painful to bear. His hand hovers in the air before he finds a moment where he feels like you won't get up and run away from him if he touches you. You shudder, but ultimately stay right where you are. "Don't cry. You're okay." 

Are we okay? You have to ask. But maybe right now is not the moment. Maybe right now all you want is to be held before everything goes down the drain. You've hit rock bottom, and everyone probably sees it too. Spencer just wishes you find it in your heart to let him be the one to help you out of there. You don't need to yell for help if you have him – the most minuscule mutter of your burdens will be enough to have him snapping into action. He knows what it's like to give every sign that you could ever think of and still have them ignored. He isn't about to let you go through that. 

"We're going to go home now, yeah?" You nod. When you come to it, your fingers ache from holding onto his shirt so hard you want to apologize to him in case you had hurt him. You don't find the words. The rise and fall of his chest had lulled you into the deepest, calmest sleep you have managed to get in a while, even before the kidnapping happened at all, and in this moment, you almost swear that it'll all be okay. 

When you wake up, there's a steady hold in your hand as the ambulance rocks back and forth. 

"God, they need to get that street fixed," you say. You don't recognize your voice, the rasp in your throat being the only thing to confirm that it is indeed you speaking. It takes you a moment to realize that the hand that holds yours firmly is Spencer's. 

You'd be lying if you said you weren't scared to look at him. What would his expression be like? Disgust? Perhaps Morgan made him ride with you until they got to the ambulance. Perhaps he offered to do so because he wanted to do something nice for you before he completely tore your heart to shreds by saying he doesn't like you back. Perhaps-

"We're almost there." The way his voice manages to shut every deprecating thought in your head should be studied. As a reflex, you turn your head to look at him. You wish you hadn't, because the way he looks at you like you're a masterpiece – a rather flawed one, even if he doesn't think so, isn't helping the ache in your chest. Your first thought is that it's awe, but then you think you might want to get that get that checked out when you get to the hospital. 

You barely notice his hand shifting around yours, until it holds your wrist, his thumb pressed softly but firm against your pulse point. He can probably feel the way your heart quickens when he leans in to take a look at your face. 

"Does the light hurt your eyes?" You nod, sluggishly. He turns over to look at the paramedic who sits next to you. You feel a little bit of relief at the fact that no one's hovering over you. It means you're okay. It's all minor. And mostly psychological. Spencer starts listing studies and tests they apparently need to run on you, and while you love the way he rambles, you don't think you can keep up with him without getting a stroke in the process right now.

You doze off again. God, you needed that. You hadn't closed your eyes for more than a couple of seconds during all of your stay in that house. Stay. You don't know what else to call it. 

Emily stayed with you while they checked you out and in her words, it was like you were moving on autopilot. It was unnerving, but the doctors had informed her that there was nothing wrong besides a couple of nasty bruises you would have to spend extra concealer on. 

Spencer offered to stay overnight. One can only imagine how unsettling it was for him to lift his head from his book to see you sitting up like a spring at 2:45 am. 

"Hi," he says, his voice a hushed breath as he sits on the edge of your bed, smiling awkwardly at you. There's no one else in the room, but it's like if any of you speaks louder than a whisper, the bubble you're in will burst. Your chest heaves with hurried breaths, and you rub your eyes.

"Hey." You're already dreading this conversation. Is there any way to go back to before you were kidnapped and forced to confess you're in love with your best friend/coworker? Anyhow, you don't want to stay in the dark anymore and hurry to speak directly to the point. "I don't want things to be weird between us." 

"We haven't even talked for a minute, what do you mean?" 

You let out a short, humorless laugh, which could be easily just interpreted as a hum. You scramble over the clutter that is your mind right now to find a topic that will help you evade the awkwardness. "... Why are you still awake?" 

He didn't expect you to ask that, if the way his gaze drifts to the side is anything to go by. 

"The book was very... interesting, to say the least," he blatantly lies. You don't know if he's a bad liar or if you're just an expert in the Spencer Reid sciences. 

"I'm sure it was." 

You don't speak for a minute. A minute and 33 seconds, he counts, and you're heading strong for a second one when his voice breaks the uncomfortable atmosphere. 

"Listen, I..." 

"I know you heard it." Everyone probably did. And it'll be less humiliating if you act like you don't wish you could just crawl out of your skin and hide. "I'm sorry. I just didn't want to die." 

"I'm glad you said it." 

You don't know if he's glad you said it because otherwise you would have probably bled out before they even got to the house or because the fog that used to sit atop of whatever weird tension you both seemed to develop whenever you were the last ones in the conference room, paired to interview a witness, or sharing the big couch on the jet, is finally cleared up. 

You can't lie and say you're not relieved you did, too.

"I'm glad too," you say, mostly to yourself. Where do you go from here? Spencer knows a lot of things, none of which seem useful at the moment. He's almost tempted to bring Morgan in for moral support; otherwise, he's about to perform the worst ridicule he's ever had the pleasure to star in. 

You wait for him to speak. He doesn't, and instead stares at the bedsheets that look like their sole existence is an offense by the way his brow creases. 

"You look like something's bothering you," you say, tentatively testing the waters. Can you already joke with him, or is it too soon to pretend like everything's okay? "Is it not a nice pattern?" 

He smiles for a split second. You didn't realize the air had been lacking from your lungs until this very second. "The pattern is geometrically off. If you look at it closely, you'll see that the diamonds aren't quite aligned properly. It seems minor, yet it's still evident enough to unconsciously make the pattern less appealing to the eyes. I suppose that's what you get with mass-produced and machine-made products nowadays."

You smile warmly at him. Only then it's that your chest tightens as the realization of just how much you missed just hearing him talk about things that would have never even crossed your mind in a thousand years, dawns upon you.

"Sorry. I forgot my magnifying glass at home." 

"I see you didn't left the wit back there." You smile at him. It feels foreign. Just a second ago you were avoiding looking at him like the mere action of doing so would make you burst into flames on the spot. Your smile is like fuel for the burning courage consuming his insides as he opens his mouth again. "I... I think- No, sorry. I mean, I am certain that..." Okay, Spencer. Great way to start. He tries to gather his thoughts, which proves to be a much harder challenge when they're all a jumbled mess. 

"You like your coworker too?" 

"Yeah," he says. His lips curl into a warm, genuine smile that does wonders at speaking of the deep affection that harbors in the depths of his soul. One only reserved for you. He's quick to repress it because he doesn't want to seem stupid. 

You don't let him throw you off your feet. "Dr. Reid, can you wait until I don't feel and look like a bus just ran over me to confess your unconditional and undying love for me?" 

He wouldn't have expected a different answer from you. The confidence you wear on the outside is a mask for the way he makes you melt like a bar of chocolate in warm weather on the inside. You don't need him to answer to that. He touches your hair, and you turn to look at the bag of skittles placed on the bedside table, and you know he'll gladly wait until you don't feel like you've been stripped of all your defenses. Until you feel like yourself again. 

[mint-yooxgi]

Promises - Yandere!Kraken!Felix

Yandere AU & Kraken AU - First Person POV

Genre: Mature, Smutty Themes, Internal Monologue

Pairing: Felix X Implied Chubby!Fem!Reader

Words: 1,958

Warnings: Implied violence and shipwreck, kidnapping, Felix is a type of Sea God in this, mentions of past sexual relations. Tentacles. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: Did I base the start of this drabble on the ending scene in Dead Man's Chest? Perhaps. Is this a bit tamer than the others. Maybe. Either way, I still hope you like it! I've been slowly easing myself back into writing, so I'm happy with what I've been able to do. Plus, I just fucking love the banner I made for this hehehe... Anyways, Feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy!~

The Thirteenth of The Feral Drabbles

They thought they could keep you away from me.

They really thought they could keep you away from me.

It’s laughable. I thought it was a known rule for sailors not to anger the sea, but alas. Here we are.

The frantic screams and shouts don’t deter me for one second. I know what I came here for, and I’m not leaving without you. You’re mine. I warned them what the consequences would be, yet still they refused to give you to me. Even after we promised ourselves to each other! Can you believe that?

Oh, that sounds so harsh. It’s not like you didn’t also choose me. It’s these… these… things keeping us apart. They don’t understand our love. Think I’m corrupting you, or something.

Such bullshit. The only thing I’m corrupting is their ability to live.

They hid you on the third level, thinking you’d be safe within the deepest confines of the ship. Little do they know it’s the worst place you could be. It’s like they want you to get hurt, like they want me to kill you. Such things I would never do. 

Still, despite my anger as I tear this floating piece of wood apart, I’m careful. Your safety is my top priority, and I’ve already ensured that. Right now, you rest, cocooned inside a few of my tentacles. Magic surrounds you, ensuring none of their attacks have any effect on me or you. Like hell I’ll allow them to disturb you now. Besides, you passed out shortly after my assault started on the ship, but you don’t have to worry. I’ve got you.

I can still remember when we first met, how you told me you didn’t fare well with sea travel. Yet another offence they’ve made against you. I’ll never forgive them for their transgressions. Sinners need to pay, and I am here to pass my divine judgement on those that would call themselves ‘heroes’.

Do not fear, My Beloved. Once I finish smashing apart this pathetic excuse of driftwood, I’ll take you home. 

Where you’ve always belonged. 

With me.

These planks are so brittle, it’s almost laughable. Your captor’s pathetic attempts to defend themselves are cute, in a way. If not for the fact that every time I start to pull you out of the wreckage, more of them show up to try and hinder me. I don’t know why they’re so obsessed with protecting you now when they’ve never done so before.

I’m the one who always saves you. I’m the one who ensures you no harm. Not them.

No matter. They haven’t seen everything that I can do. My capabilities far surpass what their puny, closed off minds can comprehend. I’ve got magic beyond the darkest depths of the ocean, strength greater than the harshest of tides. There is no being, save myself, that could keep me away from you.

I don’t even know why they try.

Finally, I’m able to pull you out of that godforsaken wreckage and unleash my full wrath upon these wretches. The boat snaps like a twig as I pull the debris and all remaining survivors below the surface. 

None will survive. They don’t get to. I won’t let them.

Honestly, it’s kind of fun tearing stuff apart. I’ve always enjoyed making a mess of things. I only wish you could be awake to see just how strong your lover can be. After all, I’m doing this for you. I warned them about what would happen should they lay their filthy, traitorous hands all over you. I’m simply staying true to my word!

You know firsthand that I’m a very truthful guy. I would never lie to you, My Pearl. I would rather be slow roasted over an open fire than even think to deceive you.

Aren’t I so loyal?

Oh. Right. You aren’t awake to hear my teasing. Teasing which you seem quite fond of whenever I’m with you.

I think you just like hearing my voice…

That’s okay, Beloved. I will speak for as long as you desire me to. Besides, the feeling is quite mutual.

Gods- I can’t wait to see your face when you wake up in our home, and I get to tell you everything that I’ve done for you. Finally, we can be together, free of oppressive opinions and suppressive stares. Where I’m taking you, we can be ourselves, and the magic of my ocean will keep you safe. Eventually, when you’re ready, you’ll even become like me, too. 

Won’t that be incredible? Just thinking about it makes my whole body tingle.

Or maybe that’s just the change in depth.

I promise my home isn’t too much further out, and it’s in a safe area. You’ll be able to live here with me free of any restraints. I’ll be your comfort. I’ll be your guide. I will provide for you everything you will ever need. 

There is nothing stopping our love now.

I’ll even make sure that no sliver of the wreckage I just caused gets to you. The currents listen to me. They’re my friends, and soon they will be yours, too.

Either way, I’m glad that’s over, because now I can focus on you! I know that you’d be celebrating with me if you were awake, but for now, I’ll simply revel in this sweet victory alone. Having you safe in my arms is enough reward, and when you wake, the true celebration will begin.

Hmm, I wonder what we should do first? Should I take you to the reefs so you can see all of the colourful coral that I’ve grown just for you? Should I present you to the schools of fish that always seek refuge around my house? Get them to revel in your beauty? Or maybe I’ll worship you in the den of our own personal sanctuary, where nothing - no one - will be able to interrupt.

My Beauty.

My Beautiful, Beloved Pearl.

I’ll admit, there’s a certain ring to those names that I enjoy. It calls to me like the cavernous songs of the sirens. An enchantment I can never seem to escape: you.

Not that I want to. 

No. Never. Not since the very first time I laid eyes on you.

You’re addictive, you know that? One glance caught my attention. One melodic note of a spoken word, and I was hooked. Your eyes are deeper than the darkest sea, and I could swim in them forever. You hold me, transfixed, with your gaze whenever you look at me, and I never want it to stop.

Honestly, I can never grow tired of you looking at me. I want you to look at me, and only me. I want to be the first thing you see in the morning when you blink those glorious eyes open, and the last thing you see when you go to sleep at night. I want to wrap you in my arms and hold you close, whispering the sweetest words of all the worlds in your ears, and hear you do the same for me in return.

There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you, Beloved, and I will never hesitate to prove that to you. With me, you will never have to settle for less than what you deserve, for I will always give you every single thing your heart could ever desire.

Fuck- I can still remember the way your body trembled from the very first touch. The more I trailed my arms over your body, letting the tips of my tendrils caress your skin, the more your whole being warmed. You fit so perfectly in my hold, that I long to always touch you - to always be near you, and obey your every whim.

I am but your loyal servant, sent to worship the very depths of your soul. Your entire being calls to me, and I could bathe in your warmth for all eternity. Right now, it’s that warmth that I crave more than anything. That glorious nectar that seeps from between your legs beckons to me. One taste isn’t enough. I need to feel you flooding my every sense once more.

Sweet.

Addictive.

I could spend ages defining it, but nothing could ever truly put into words just how ethereal you are to me.

People always thought my existence was mere myth itself. Rumours and legends only meant to scare those away from pursuing adventure on the high seas. Nothing more than a fable to tell their children at night to ensure they don’t go off swimming in the bay alone.

They have always been, and will always be, wrong.

I’m as real at the tide, as sure as the sand that resides against the ocean floor. There is nothing in these waters as deadly as I am, and all those that oppose us will face my wrath.

Well, where we’re going, we won’t have to worry about being disturbed at all. Plenty of room for the both of us. Plenty of privacy. No one dares disturb that which should be left undisturbed. At least, those smart enough to.

That is, of course, unless I use my magic to let those sirens get a taste of their own medicine. Water echoes even the smallest of sounds, and yours should be heard for miles around. I can still hear your glorious voice calling out my name as you bathed me in your own sacred waters, and I want all to know that you are mine, and I am yours. For all eternity. 

I’ll admit… I’m addicted to you, and I can never get enough. Though, from the way I remember your hands clinging to me that night only days ago, I don’t think you can get enough, either.

Good thing we have forever to spend fully satisfying each other!

Ah… looks like we’re finally getting close to home. I can see the familiar drop off up ahead. Don’t worry, Beloved, there’ll be plenty of air for you to breathe inside. I won’t always have to keep you covered in a veil of magic. Though, I would always like to have an arm around you. Feeling your skin pressed against my own is a sensation unlike any other, and I long to never let you go.

Perhaps I should tidy up a little more before you wake. I always have way too much energy after destroying a ship. Something about adrenaline and all that.

Perhaps when you wake up you could even help me with it… You might be a bit tired and disoriented when you wake, but my magic can help with your exhaustion. You seemed to like that that last time I used it on you.

How else could we have gone as many rounds as we did?

Oh, you flatter me by pulling yourself in closer to me subconsciously when I shift into such a basic form. It easier to move around like a human within my home when it’s drained like this, and besides, I haven’t exactly shown you my entire true form yet. The last thing I want to do is scare you as soon as you wake up. You’ve already suffered the trauma of being stolen away from me today. I don’t want to make things worse.

There. All you need to do is rest now. 

In my arms? Well, who am I to pull away from My Pearl when you’re clinging onto me so tightly in your sleep? 

I truly can never say no to you…

Just rest, Beloved. This creature shall keep you safe, tucked away deeply in his heart for all eternity. Once you open those glorious eyes of yours, our own adventure will start.

Just you and me, forever. 

I promise.

[entities-of-posts]

Hi, I have a question not directly tied to the roleplay (though I don't mind if you answer it in that direction): A while ago, you talked about your theory of a potential 16th Fear emerging to balance the emerging Extinction: the Dull. I find that concept compelling, but in that post you also said that each of the powers has an "opposite" due to how people like to categorise things and I'd be curious what you would consider the opposite of each power. (Mostly because I like lists and sorting things xD)

Some do have a pretty clear opposite (Vast/Buried, Lonely/Corruption), but with a lot of the others it's less immediately obvious or simply up to a bit more interpretation. iirc Elias says the Stranger is the antithesis to the Eye, but the Dark and the Spiral similarly foil its central concepts, and I'm not sure what else their opposites would be, really.

Let me just preface this list by saying that this is my own opinion and interpretation, and thus 100% right and correct and indisputable.

I will also say that there are Fears which I would call near opposites, but imperfect mirrors - such as the Stranger and the Eye - and some that just seem to hate each other without being antithesis - such as the Desolation and the Corruption. It’s also worth mentioning that overlap always exist between mirrors, of course; this is why there is a classic duality between the moon and the sun, but no one talks about the duality between the moon and a giraffe, even though they have much less in common.

That said, here is my list:

The Vast - The Buried: the most widely agreed upon. Spaces too large versus too small. The terrible freedom of being adrift in an endless ocean, of freefall, versus being crushed in place with not the space to crawl an inch. You get it. The comparison is so clear and easy that it kickstarts the speculation about all the others.

The Eye - the Dark: extremely straightforward; just as much as the Vast and the Buried, to me. Knowledge versus the lack of it. Stark light versus impenetrable darkness. What sees you versus what you cannot see. Literally symbolized respectively by an open eye and a closed one.

The Corruption - the Lonely: Toxic love versus miserable isolation. An overabundance of company, much too close, under your very skin, a swarm of uninvited guests within your deepest sanctuary who will not leave, versus a life so barren of any company at all that that you might almost start to crave the former. The heat of fever versus the cold of fog.

The Web - the Desolation: careful planning versus reckless destruction. A trap so intricately laid, hundreds of delicate moving pieces and redundancy measures waiting for just the right time… so easily laid to waste by an unthinking, spontaneous act of cruel hunger for rubbles. Man’s quest, since the dawn of time, has been to tame and leash fire. And we still haven’t mastered it.

The Hunt - the End: a wild fight for life versus its cold ending. The journey versus the destination. The two oldest fears. The Chase wants more than anything to never End. The End doesn’t Chase; it just waits. And you’re the one that walks towards it every instant.

The Stranger - the Slaughter: here is the part of the list where people start to look at me oddly, because they’ve often never considered those pairings; but hear me out, and remember that I am inarguably correct. The fear of something Else pretending to be human versus the fear of what truly lies at the core of every human person. The fear of being tricked by an elaborate disguise versus the intimate knowledge of the truth: that those who hurt others aren’t monsters disguised as people. They’re just people. And the urge is in you too. Masks, versus what is revealed when all masks are cast off. And they both have musical motifs which makes for some fun parallels.

The Spiral - the Flesh: the horror of the mind versus the horror of the body. Unreality versus a reality only too physical, only too inescapable. Your brain is lying to you, but your body keeps the score. Follow the patterns, the Spiral says, there is more, they are lying to you, just follow me down - this is all there is, the Flesh whispers, this is the raw and dripping truth, this is all you are and you will never escape it. The Distortion even admits it can’t digest an avatar of the Flesh.

[nyxthejinx]

Heya!

I just saw your open for request post and want to commission an Cyno x gn!reader, please? :) a fluffy and spicy drabble would be lovely. Maybe smth like.. the reader is good friends with Cyno and Tighnari but the reader went on a journey thru teyvat and met the Aether (traveler) on their way and since then they traveled together and been thru much so they have a connection ofc and then when the reader and Aether visit sumeru and they meet Cyno - he will get all jealous? Cause he sees how close they are and he fears that he missed his chance with the reader? But obvsly its not like that and yeah. A lil bit of making out at the end, please? cause Cyno needs to let out some steam after his jealously :^)

Thank you for doing requests btw!

FIRST. It took ages but I was able to sell my soul in exchange for inspiration only recently, I'm so sorry. SECOND thank YOU for asking, I wasn't sure about this until the 3am among us potion made it work. THIRD beautiful pfp, akaza bb fr i love him a normal amount I promise. FOURTH it's 5 am, literally I'm not kidding, I tried to proofread and all that but I don't even know what's my name anymore so I'm sorry for typos and shit. FIFTH I hope It makes sense, enjoy 💀

𝐓𝐖: Fluff and obviously spice (making out, vague allusions to the dirty deeds ;) ), use of petnames (dear, love), lemme know if I missed something.

𝐅𝐭.: Cyno, Aether (but he's your homie) - GN!Reader

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.5k

𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨: Rendezvous - Little Mix (god this song is such a banger)

Cyno fears nothing.

"Cyno, this is Aether."

Cyno fears one thing.

He'd felt so happy after reading your last letter. You said you'd be back in a few days with a special surprise, but honest to Archons the fact you'd be coming back to him - for him, he’d wanted to say, but not dared to- was enough of a present.

He surely wasn't expecting that this "surprise" would be none other than the Traveler who's saved Sumeru, though. A charming blondie who drifts a bit too close to you, in Cyno's opinion.

"We met in Liyue, he's amazing." You smile, squeezing the blond's shoulder. "He's a well known traveler across Teyvat, even in regions he has yet to visit!"

"I just help those who need it, not that much of a big deal."

Aether blushes and rubs his neck. Aether blushes. And you're touching him in a way that only close friends do.

It's fine, Cyno wants to think. You're allowed to do whatever you want in your life, he sure as hell won't stand in your way. He already stepped aside back in the days, as you excitedly told him how one of his worst fears came true you were leaving for adventure.

Everything to make you happy.

But his mixed feelings would always get in the way and unleash endless internal conflicts. It wasn't simply about not having you around, it was some kind of longing sitting inside his chest and screaming at you not to go.

It was the distance that made him realise: he was, and still is, far too in love for his own good.

And Aether could get in the way of that.

"We meet again, Traveller." The General nods, pushing down such shameful thoughts. "I'm glad to see you are both fairing well."

"It's all thanks to [Name], actually." Aether nudges you in the ribs. "They're really helpful, no matter the task."

You smirk. "Oh, what an honour. The traveller complementing me, a common, mortal nobody."

"Hey, I'm not that annoying!"

"Maybe. But you sure snore at night. That is annoying."

"Wh-! I don't. I know for a fact-"

No, you don't sound like close friends. You sound like a married couple. What just happened in this handful of months? Did Cyno hesitate too long and lost his chance? Now that he had decided to expose his deepest feelings?

"You guys! Paimon is starving here."

Paimon's shrill voice cuts short the bicker, as the Matra's jaw clenches. Good time, credits to Paimon, but seeing the two of you stroll towards the tavern didn't ease the knot in his chest the slightest.

Your laughter wasn't addressed to him nor to his uncanny jokes. He wasn't the one making you smile.

He was the moon and he'd just been eclipsed by the Traveller's brightest light.

Dinner was... Gut wrenching, to say the least.

You'd known Cyno long enough to tell apart his feelings even as he wears that stoic facade of his. While Paimon and the Traveller didn't have a single clue about the situation, you could feel his dry gaze burning holes on both of your figures, as if the sun had ascended back to the skies and everything around had turned desert.

He was feeling something you'd never quite seen within him.

It took you a bit too long to realise that the fair, lawful General Mahamatra was jealous, of all things.

He was so subtle with it, carefully hid his resentment in his voice and choice of words, in his gestures and mannerisms. But worst of all he didn't propose a single joke during the meal, not even when you laid the chance on a silver platter for him.

That had your mind reeling for the rest of your time together, and even afterwards, as you waved goodnight to Aether and Paimon. As you walked these streets you still know by heart with your dearest friend by your side.

As you choked on the thick air surrounding the two of you.

Maybe you should've left Aether out of it, for the first day, at least. Cyno hadn't seen you in so long, perhaps he didn't like the way Aether inadvertently hogged your attention the entire time when all he wanted was to hear about your adventures.

Yeah, you'd been an idiot for that one.

But, you still had an ace up your sleeve. Quite literally. One that would grant you his forgiveness and hopefully help you say the words to him.

Because of course, it took you less than a week far from him to realise you were smitten for this dad-jokes-spitting being.

You patted your side as you approached Razan Garden in all its glory, and sighed at the feeling of the rectangular box still inside. You could do it, you had to! It took you months of preparation, you wouldn't let it go to waste.

"[Name]." Cyno's voice was soft, as if to match the atmosphere lingering in the marble gazebo. He'd stopped a couple steps ahead of you, but didn't turn to meet your eyes. "My congratulations and best wishes."

You alt abruptly at that. Where the hell is it coming from?

"Uh, thank you?" You quirk a brow. "Did I do something special without knowing?"

He chuckles under his breath. Yes, you are special and he's grateful a being so perfect can exist in this world and is part of his life. But he would never tell you that.

He turns instead. His eyes rich with emotion, gentler. "I'm beyond glad that you found the right person out there, [Name]."

Oh. Oh.

"I only ever hoped for your happiness and well-being, during this period of time."

"Cyno, wait a sec-"

He takes a step forward. "If I had to voice my honest thoughts... I must admit I couldn't find peace of mind knowing you would've been out there alone."

"Cyno-"

"But I see you're perfectly capable of handling your own," the man sighs, shakes his head. A small smile curves his lips. "Just like you've always done."

"Oi-"

And then he's placing loose hands on your shoulders, as if he's in some kind of automatic mode and has to finish the speech at all costs.

For a moment you think he's gone absolutely senile. "Still, I'm relieved you have someone who can watch your back, now. He's a kind-hearted person, level headed, the best you could wish for-"

"Archons' fucking sake, Cyno! Will you hear me out a damn second?"

Cyno almost jumps back, taken out of his weird reverie, but you're quick to trap his face between your hands. You're close, closer than you'd wanted to, unfocused in your frustrated fervor. So much his breath warms the apple of your cheek, as it wasn't burning already.

You take a breath and force more words out before you can cower away from it. "I get where you're coming from, I neglected you today and acted like a shitty friend. And I'm sorry for that."

You lower your gaze to the ground. Now or never. "But it's you, okay? It's always been you! I could travel across all Teyvat and even Celestia, but it's you and just you. So drop that thing you're on about please."

That was disgustingly corny. But hopefully did the trick, you guess.

A beat passes. Then two. You don't see his face, you don't have the courage to take a look at the mess you've made. Him being jealous didn't mean he liked you, not necessarily. Maybe you should've given him the TCG deck and call it a night.

Another beat goes by.

"So... You and Aether are not...?"

He's gonna be the death of you.

You groan, a guttural sound that shouts exasperation from the deepest parts of your chest. All rationality goes to hell as you drag him closer and slam your lips together.

You're kissing him. Archons you're kissing him-

There's no time for Cyno to react. You're pulling away in a frenzy, hoping the ground will open for the Abyss to swallow you right now. You kissed one of your friends only to prove that you're single, and in fact attracted to them. Could it be worse than that? More humiliating and disrespectful to him?

"I'm so sorry!" You wave your hands around. "I shouldn't have without your permission! Are you okay?"

You search his expression for any sign of discomfort; he looks absolutely flabbergasted, but somehow weirdly composed like a bronze statue. His lips -god you'd just kissed them- are parted in the slightest, his eyes wide and yet still. The calm before the storm.

He's showing yet another sentiment you've never really seen him wear.

"Again." Cyno says.

You blink. "Uh?"

You feel his hand slither behind you and circle your waist, as he pushes your body closer. His skin is running hot like the desert's sands and you curse at his choice, or better lack of clothes.

His silver hair falls like a curtain, his eyes sharp. Dangerous, even, if you're not careful enough.

"Please, do it again. I think I've just seen the gates of Celestia." He mutters close to your lips.

That sounds more like him. You can't help but snort at his choice of words, shuddering all the same. The implications of said words dig a flaming hole in your chest.

"How can you be so smart, but dum dum at the same time?" You whisper, one hand traveling to the back of his neck, the other busying itself with stray locks of hair.

And you dip in for another kiss. One you sigh into, one that can be called kiss, actually. It's slower, but full all the same, scorching hot, pushed by feelings that were repressed for too long.

Cyno locks his free hand at your nape, never possessive, although firm. Small sounds bubble in the back of his throat when you bite at his lower lip, then backs just enough to mutter a couple words.

"Can you really blame me? It feels like a dream coming true." He pecks your lips, then presses his forehead to yours and closes his eyes. "I was scared you'd chosen him."

"So, all those pretty words from before?" You exhale a breathy laugh, cradling his jaw.

"I'd give away everything I have and am if it meant you'd be happy. I could only wish you the best and support you." Cyno smiles, pouting after the next words leave his mouth. "But it doesn't mean I would be fully content with the outcome."

Your brain has turned to mush. This man is too dangerous for this world, a hazard for you and your poor little heart that feels like exploding. It's a threat to your common sense and rationality. But most of all, it's damaging your brakes.

What he's telling you should not be legal.

"Archons, come here." And you kiss, and kiss, kiss again and again. You map each other's bodies with your hands as if it was the last time you'd be seeing each other. You press your mouths, clatter your teeth, intertwine your tongues.

You're straight up devouring in the dead silence of the night, in a public space. But as indecent the sounds you're both making are, it feels as if the world around blurred and blended into nothingness.

You've found yourself with your back to a wall, somehow, a couple buttons loose, skin hit by the cold air of the night. You -surely more clothed than Cyno- are an absolute mess, whereas his appearance doesn't falter much even at your hands' mercy.

It's unfair, he's unfair. He has no right to be this damn perfect even in the face of chaos.

"Not here, Cy." You manage to utter. "Let's go home."

His hand stops halfway up your shirt and he detaches from your neck with a small grunt, red splotches forming already thanks to his work. He doesn't sound pleased with your choice, but wordlessly complies, knocking you off your feet and picking you up so easily it's unfair.

And embarrassing.

You deadpan. "Seriously?"

He finds your eyes, suddenly composed as if nothing happened. "You seemed quite unstable on your legs, dear."

You're audibly gasping at that, whacking his chest and glaring daggers. "You!"

"Let's continue it home, now."

Cyno is really going to be the death of you, in many ways you'd never even considered.

It's almost dawn when you finally let yourselves snuggle up to each other in the peace of your home. More like his home, since yours needs more than a bit of cleaning after months of disuse, but he's made it clear already: everything that's his is also yours.

Cyno traces patterns on the bare skin of your arm, as you card through the knots on the back of his head, formed after... Recent activity. He seems too lost in your touch to even be awake, when his fingers stop.

"What was the surprise, in the end? Was it the confession?"

Your hands still, your face tightening at the question. When did you even... Oh, right.

"Would you be satisfied if I said yes?"

He pinches you.

"Owie!"

"You should know that what has been of this night matters more than anything, to me. Of course I would be satisfied." Cyno raises a thin brow, as his hand starts to descend agonizingly slow, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake. "Was I not clear enough about my feelings? Perhaps you need a reminder-"

"Whoa, hold your horses, General." You chuckle, planting a kiss on his forehead before leaning over to your bedside table, where your bag had been thrown previously. "There was no way I'd come back empty handed after all these months, yanno?"

You pull out the wrapped box, place it in his hands. Cyno stares at it quizzically, but opens the packaging with care after you nudge him in the side.

Oh, his expression is so, so priceless. Cute, too cute, so cute you could die right now on the spot for excess of sugar in your blood. He looks like a kid who's just received the toy he oh so wanted and ranted about.

"It's not just any deck," You explain. "It's a deck made of cards I've gathered around from different regions. Some were more challenging to get, but I've been playing with you for a long time, haven't I? Of course I'd win."

Meanwhile Cyno takes the liberty to browse its contents, and just like you said, they're not from Sumeru. He's barely ever seen them, some are literally unknown, and he's ecstatic at the sight. How long did it take? How much effort?

"This is…" there's no right term to describe it. "Wonderful. You are wonderful, [Name]."

He goes for a hug and you feel like your bodies fit perfectly in each other's arms, as if it was meant to be. Right now, all that matters is this. And it will always be for all you care.

You smile into his shoulder, smooch the base of his neck. "Is it too early to say 'I love you?'."

"I would actually say we're late, Love."

"I love you, then, you Dum-Dum."

"I love you."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"You are like my asthma. You just take my breath away."

You make sure Cyno slams his head as you throw him off the bed.

DON'T copy/repost my work. REBLOG instead! ©nyxthejinx

[brucewaynehater101]

I think the worst one for his family to find out about him healing would be if he said, "I did have to use some of my feathers to survive the Titans Tower attack." While refusing to look at Jason. Or maybe he could mention that due to being a bird, his bones are hollow and more fragile than humans. What if he had unknown to his family used a feather during training? Just. One of them managed to hit him in the side of the head and Tim goes down. But a few moments later he's up and holding the side of his head where they hit him, groaning. Whoever did it gets a lecture and Tim is benched until his "concussion" is healed.

I also love your thing about Tim not being able to feel the positive emotions as deeply either. It's heart breaking but makes sense. I wonder if his refusal to show anger or joy would lead to his family thinking he has some kind of neurological disorder where he physically can't feel those emotions as strongly and try to send him to therapy so that he can get some kind of medication to help with that.

I currently have two ideas for how the family could find out and neither are pleasant for anyone involved. On the one hand, Tim catching the attention of Scarecrow because his fear gas doesn't seem to effect him as much (it does, but Tim's greatest fear in this one is loosing control of his emotions and letting his instincts take over so as soon as he gets gassed he's trying to keep everything under control so he can "hide his wings again" even though they never came out) so he ends up making an extra powerful version juuust for Tim that would have even Bruce kicking and screaming. He lures the Bats into his hide out with some canisters of regular fear gas and then somehow manages to get Tim with a dart full of the special formula.

Of course everyone freaks out as Tim's breathing picks up speed and he starts to back away from them, pulling into himself. They try to say things but he clearly can't hear them as he covers down and whimpers about something needing to go away, that no one is allowed to see it, that no one can *know*. Scarecrow isn't happy though and yells, "scream! Why aren't you screaming?! You're the only one I've never heard *scream*!" Bruce takes down Scarecrow quickly and hauls him out of the room so they can focus on Tim, trying to get near him. But when Dick touches his arm to try and ground him, a panic that Tim can't possibly smother races through him and he lashes out, claws and wings extending as he tries to get away. Tim screams at them, "NO I WONT BE SOLD FOR WHAT I AM, ILL KILL YOU!"

Then on the other hand, possibly even worse, some poachers come around Gothem with a device that scans for magical creatures. They don't know who this guy with black hair and blue eyes In a suit is and they don't care. They don't have any idea what he is either, beyond that he's a paycheck if they can grab him. Tim doesn't fight back really hard when they come for him, thinking that it's his turn with the monthly family kidnapping of some idiot who went "if I kidnap a Wayne I can ransom them to Bruce for a lot of money". It's not until the car door closes and he feels the magical wards around the van that he begins to truly panic and fight, but the wards are up and doing their job, acting as a powerful sedative that Tim has no defense against as he slips unconscious. When he wakes up, it's his worst nightmares come to life. He's stuck in a cage and his Glamor is gone and there are people leering at him and talking about how much money a *thing* like him will make them.

By the time the Bats manage to get there though, Tim has been sold off to the highest bidder and the Bats are informed that these people only deal in Magical Creatures. They tell the Bats that it's no wonder they didn't know what he is because his species hold what they are as their deepest secret. After all, they inform the Bats, the poachers did sell the Phoenix to Circe herself for 6 million dollars.

Both of those are absolutely delectable. I am more partial to the Scarecrow one (just cause ofnTim having some type of "immunity" which inspires Scarecrow to increase his formula is a really interesting concept).

The poachers one is super cool too! There's a ton of ways that can unfold. I am curious if the device they use is rare/expensive. Otherwise, lots of folks could figure him out.

The tidbit you added about the fragile bones is devastating. Poor Tim is just trying to live his life when the hits he takes do more damage to him than the others (which can add onto his angst of not being enough).

[whinlatter]

something tells me you don't really like tonks, just a hunch xD

For the relationship ask if you're still doing it: harry and remus, molly and remus, teddy and adromeda. I would love to see what do you think <3

noooo i love tonks! i had a ball writing her and think that @evesaintyves’ rendering of her is one of fandom’s greatest gifts 😭 i just find it very funny that harry thinks she should low key get a grip. and as a clumsy young woman who should myself get a grip, i say: get off her case, hjp.

ok the remus + tonks/black extended family universe... hyped for this one. delicious choices, thank you anon. (i have a few more in the inbox i'm going to take a stab at but am trying to avoid spoilery ones or ones where i risk boring you all again by repeating old talking points, so if i don't get to one pls forgive me...)

right — to business. we begin with everybody looking at remus lupin waiting for him to put his crippling self loathing aside to write (1) singular letter to his dead friend's son:

i jest (to an extent). but i do think the entirety of harry and remus' dynamic is best encapsulated in one singular scene in PoA:

“When they get near me — ” Harry stared at Lupin’s desk, his throat tight. “I can hear Voldemort murdering my mum.” Lupin made a sudden motion with his arm as though to grip Harry’s shoulder, but thought better of it.

i know there's a very understandable move in AUs to imagine what would have happened if remus had raised harry - or, more often, if remus had been 'allowed' to raise harry by dumbledore. but looking past the whole plot-requiring-harry-to-be-at-the-dursleys thing, the truth is, canon remus lupin would never have put himself forward to raise harry, because of his own (not unfounded!) concerns about the precarity of his existence and the dangerousness of his condition. remus' sense of self - more specifically his fear of himself, and his very low self worth - consistently lead him to hold harry at arm's length from the moment he's introduced in the series until its bitter end. i don't think remus at all approves of the way harry is treated at the dursleys. but i can very much imagine that remus thinks it would still be better than the life he could have given harry if he ever had been called upon to serve as his primary caregiver. one of the most interesting implicit dynamics in the series is that harry notices this and does, to some extent, resent it (obviously the fact that he only ever calls him 'lupin' in his narration, though uses remus to his face, and also: 'Harry had received no mail since the start of term; his only regular correspondent was now dead and although he had hoped that Lupin might write occasionally, he had so far been disappointed.') while the harry & remus fight in DH is about harry's view of what remus ought to do re tonks and the baby, it’s also harry coming as close as saying to remus: you're letting your own child down like you let me down. ('I’m pretty sure my father would have wanted to know why you aren’t sticking with your own kid, actually... He had it coming to him,” said Harry. Broken images were racing each other through his mind: Sirius falling through the veil; Dumbledore suspended, broken, in midair; a flash of green light and his mother’s voice, begging for mercy… ‘Parents,’ said Harry, 'shouldn’t leave their kids unless—unless they’ve got to.')

molly and remus: i think this is a very, very underrated relationship! i know there’s a lot of molly-bashing around these days, especially if you’re a marauders and/or sirius and/or wolfstar stan. but i think it is very very overlooked that the person who looks after adult remus the most from 1995 onwards, and who shows him some of the deepest trust and roots for his happiness, is molly. for a man who has plainly known a huge amount of financial/food/housing insecurity, and who is so villainised in wider wizarding society, it is no small gesture for molly to not only provide for remus materially but also to trust him in a house with all of her children and encourage him in a romantic relationship he struggles to feel entitled to and worthy of. (i love sirius, but he is in no fit state to ‘look after’ remus in the last year of his life, and fandom’s continued unwillingness to recognise the importance of domestic/caregiving labour as a vital contribution to the resistance will never not be problematic af). remus clearly values and admires molly in return - the only time he actually ever entertains a parent/guardianship role is when molly is weeping over her boggart, crying onto remus’ shoulder (‘what must you think of me?’) and he assures her that if anything were to happen to her and arthur, he would be a part of the team making sure her children are taken date of (‘what do you think we’d do, let them starve?’) remus’ relationship with molly is often the more mild-mannered translator of her viewpoint to others (especially others with hot tempers), and mediator trying to find middle ground between molly’s protective instincts and the battle/ready instincts of others. (more grist to my sirius & ginny parallels mill — in DH, when a fuming ginny is desperately trying to sneak off to fight in the battle, it’s remus who appeals to molly and ginny to find the compromise of ginny staying in the room of requirement to know what’s going on but not actively fight, a mirror image of his role mediating the dispute between sirius and molly over harry’s right to know what’s going on at grimmauld in ootp…) molly accepts this compromise, a sign that she trusts remus implicitly (she never frets that a werewolf is living among her children in ootp onwards, and invites him to christmas readily even after months undercover with the pack) and also feels able to call him out (‘i’ve always said you’re taking a ridiculous line on this, remus’.) this is too long but basically — justice for molly and remus, unlikely buds!

teddy and andromeda: i weirdly think a lot about teddy lupin these days. i tend to imagine teddy as a very mild-mannered, affable, calm child, like who remus might have been had he not been bitten, with tonks' heart and sociability but also with something of remus' more philosophical disposition. i think he'd slip very naturally into a big brother role because, in part, he does see himself as having a responsibility to take care of people, and i think this would shine through in his relationship with andromeda. we know teddy was raised by his gran, and i imagine she feels enormously protective of him, perhaps bordering on strict in her desire to keep him safe from the harm that came to all the rest of her family. but i like to imagine teddy didn't act out against this too much, in part because he understands where it comes from and in turn feels very protective of andromeda. growing up in the aftermath of the war would make teddy as a child particularly aware of the grief and pain and the silences among the adults around him, and i think teddy would take any compensatory protective strictness on andromeda's part with good grace, and humour her for it. i like to think teenage/young adult teddy serves as the translator for any of his gran's more prickly edges, and that they have a very close relationship that both of them really treasure.

[upsidedownpaycheck]

Doc 101 Part 4

The Doc Tries to shock 101 back to life, his back arches but no response from him comes out XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX Part 4: XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

[YouTube src: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FNclIA-1Er8] //(incase the video is unavailable)//

"The Current was not strong enough. No!" "The Current was not strong enough. Please" "The Current was not strong enough. Your heart… I'm failing you" "Please, I don't want to lose you"

(She sits down and thinks in a panic then stands back up)

She repeats the process multiple times in vain until her last attempt. Her Resuscitation essays slowly transitions into a goodbye kiss towards the one patient she only ever truly had. "I am so so sorry, I…" Her words are swallowed up by the pain of her own throat, preventing her from speaking further …………………………………………………………………………………………………………… Phase 4: The Doc's Note ::End of Interrogation:: (A few months pass, and the Detective is awarded for going as an undercover patient 101 and is posted on the 1401 News Paper Article "Detective Private eye on The Doc") Report Status Article "Detective Private eye on The Doc" The Doc: female, well defined, late 20s, lovely and loyal Business hours: not available Cause of Death: unknown Title: A Hero Remarks: Misunderstood, Charming personality Interview: Classified Information Detective 101: "As Far as I can say, her business is closed, there is nothing to worry about, do not cheer, do not be sad. She was a bright minded person in my eyes. If only everyone could understand" Progress Status: Case Closed

https://www.tumblr.com/bloodybosom/750554315643650048?source=share

Later that night Detective 101 goes to a grave that he visits daily to read a message he keeps close at heart in secret:

"My Dearest Love,

My name is Zephyra. I have dwelled in solitude within my lair, for who am I to play arbiter of life and death? Yet, in this moment, I offer you a gift beyond measure. How can one such as I dare to tamper with another's essence, to hold a heart so precious? I felt its rhythm, pulsing, breathing, twisting beside my ear, a symphony of life. But now, that melody is silenced, a quiet that haunts me, for I believed I was doing something noble. This has always been my deepest fear.

But for you, I cast aside my doubts and give you the very heart that now beats within your chest. May it fill you with the warmth and love I have always held for you, in silence and secrecy. Live, my love, and let my sacrifice be the beacon of our intertwined fates.

you deserve a heart, one that beats for you… I'll give you mine, where ever the story goes my force of life will be there throughout your time. Thank you for your book and Quill, your life needs to go on by my heart's will.

Forever yours, Zephyra" [image from tumblr: psykopaths]

https://www.tumblr.com/psykopaths/749923038920933376?source=share

RIP in loving memory The Doc 1424-1451

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx The End xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Mentions: cubbyninja420 - I know you didn't really want this kind of story but thanks for giving me the idea and suggestion in a way

I hope everyone enjoyed, feel free to add feedback, Dm if you wish to trade vids Once again, ♡ yasmine ♡ aided a lot to this. Show some love and drop a "Swiss Role from tumblr" msg to her YouTube :)

[somebluemelodies]

almost gave up on writing this bc all my progress got deleted over a couple weeks ago but i am nothing if not determined (read: a stubborn shit) so i finally came back to rewrite cross-posted to ao3 here :>

As a kid, Roier was obsessed with the sea. He loved everything about it. Including the merfolk.

Every book about mer and their lore he could get a hold of, he read. They fascinated him to no end.

It's why he's never trusted the Federation. Why he never told his abuelo about his fascination. Roier knows what they do to the mer they capture.

His abuelo is a long-time Federation officer, and he remembers overhearing many a work-related discussion at night when he was younger, or reading his classified documents when he wasn't home.

The Federation "studies" mer, asking people that if they ever see a mer, to report the sighting to an officer. And by that, they experiment. All under the guise they preach to the public of "studying" them.

(Deepsea mer get it the worst. Labelled as aggressive, human-killing monsters, the Federation has made everyone fearful of them. Roier pushes everything he's ever read about a captured deepsea mer to the far back of his mind.)

(Surely they can't be that bad, can they?)

When Roier was old enough, he took off to live a life on the sea. A pirate, if you will, because that's what the Federation calls everyone smart enough to not conform to their overbearing ways. And he's been thoroughly enjoying his life ever since.

As it stands currently, he and the rest of the crew - friends, really - have been docked for a few days now for reparation and selling purposes. He tries to ignore the fact there's a plethora of Federation officers wandering the town, with a base of operations just outside of it, and instead spends much of his time wandering up and down the beach.

It's what he's doing this late afternoon. About to walk past a cave, a slight glint in his peripherals has him glancing into the mouth of the cave and freezing in his tracks.

Roier finds himself staring at a mer, who appears to be tangled in a net. Their tail almost looks black, but under the light of the sunset, he realizes the scales are actually the deepest emerald green he's ever seen. Looking around to make sure no one - no officer - is watching him, he slips inside.

His boots in the shallow water catch the attention of the mer, whose head snaps up at the sound. Piercing blue eyes almost seem to glow in the dim light, glaring daggers at him, and Roier freezes, holding his hands up. "I just want to help! I'm not here to hurt you or something. Can I help you?"

(Can the merman even understand him?)

The silent question is answered by the snarl on the mer's face gradually dropping, followed by a hesitant nod. His eyes continue to follow Roier closely, though, who tries to mask his surprise at the fact he's just been comprehended by a mer.

Kneeling next to the mer, he's able to make out more detail. Most notably, a bunch of scars, be it a long, thin one stretching across the bridge of his nose or the sheer amount littering his arms.

(It looks like there are more on his torso, but his arm is covering the lower half. Alarmingly, Roier swears he sees red underneath, too.)

(One step at a time.)

Roier pulls out his dagger, and starts the process of carefully cutting the merman free from the net. While doing so, he notices one signature detail of the net.

It's white.

"Did the Federation try to capture you?" he asks, sparing a brief glance up at the merman's handsome face. "And you managed to escape?"

(Focus. Focus.)

The mer nods. Roier sighs. "Fucking hate those guys, man."

He perks up a bit, as if to say "you too?" and the pirate offers a small smile in turn. But it fades after a moment. "I know what they do to you guys. It's not fair."

Silence befalls them, save for the slicing of his dagger against the net. It takes a bit, but he's finally able to pull the netting off of the mer and toss it off to the side.

The mer looks some semblance of thankful, although it turns to a grimace when he goes to move his arm that's been wrapped around his stomach this whole time, and it resumes its original place.

Roier frowns. "You're hurt. Let me see."

He doesn't move his arm, though, and it takes Roier gently prying it away so he can inspect the damage. Doing so reveals some type of stab wound, but from what, he isn't quite sure. It's not life-threatening, that much he also knows, but it's certainly bad enough to warrant concern.

(And he's very concerned.)

But he quickly realizes yet another problem. Said problem being that he has no medical supplies on him. Granted, he could go back to the ship for some, but that means either running into another member of the crew or worse... someone else stumbling upon this mer.

(Is it worth the risk?)

"Okay, bad news," he speaks up again. "I don't have any supplies to help you on me, but I might be able to--"

Roier is cut off by watching the mer reach for a satchel he didn't even realize the latter had. "Oh, shit-- Do you have your own supplies?"

The merman nods, but before he can take out any of the supplies on his own, the pirate is reaching out to take the satchel. "I can help you again," he offers. "It'll be a lot easier than trying to fix yourself, you know?"

He seems surprised by the offer, but holds out the satchel after a few moments, watching him with a look Roier can't quite decipher.

(Apprehension? Fondness? Incredulousness?)

(All he knows is those bright eyes are a lot less scary than they've been made out to be.)

The patching-up process takes a little longer than the untangling, and Roier has to light up the lantern he brought with him now that the sun has set, but he finally finds himself wrapping the mer's torso, sitting back slightly on his knees to inspect his work. "I think that should do it. Just... be careful, okay?"

Another nod, and Roier takes another few moments to study him. Between the glowing eyes and the scars, the slight rips in some of his fins, thinking about his initial attitude...

"Are you a deepsea mer?" he asks after a beat.

The mer freezes, watching him closely and seeming to scan him for any signs of hostility. Roier only looks back at him, though, making no subtle movements, and he finally nods slowly.

Roier hums. "I figured. But for all the Federation talk about you guys being ugly monsters... you look like the opposite." The merman looks stunned. "You're... very pretty, you know? Handsome."

(Beautiful, even.)

It's his turn to be surprised when the mer smiles for the first time. A relatively small smile, but one nevertheless, and it's one that makes something warm start to bloom in his chest, everything feeling just a little fuzzy.

The mer then picks up his satchel again, rummaging through it until he pulls something out. He grabs one of Roier's hands, holding it up and gently placing something smooth in his palm before closing his fingers around it.

(Roier mourns the loss of the brief contact, and then immediately mentally kicks himself in the ass for the fact.)

("Please be careful, okay?" Another nod.)

With the high tide coming into the cave, the merman is able to start making his way out with relative ease, sparing a brief glance back to Roier and waving before disappearing under the water with a glint of emerald under the moonlight.

For several moments, he stands there in silence, processing. And then, he looks down at his hand, opening it.

A sizeable piece of dark green sea glass rests in his palm, and he can't help the smile that etches its way onto his face.

The pirate carefully pockets it, and, on his way back to the ship, can only hope to whatever god is listening that this isn't the end, but only something just beginning.

[love-hatred-stuff]

solo [sequel shot]

》 alright so I know it's starts off rough but this is for those who needed a happy end for my fic "solo"

Enjoy my babiesss :3 ♡

"Come on. Please tell me what I did wrong and I'll fix it."

"I'm wrong, James! I was wrong and that isn't your fault. I just don't wanna hang out anymore." A few tears slipped past your eyelids. You were devastated and you knew this day would come. You knew one day he'll find someone that's better than you. Not as broken as you. More useful as a partner in a relationship and not someone who ruins fucking everything.

You were truly heartbroken. But you tried to be happy for him and you were actually. It stung nonetheless, seeing him with another girl that seems to be so put together, so emotionally available. Complete opposite of you and you guess that's why it hurt even more. Him picking someone who is the exact opposite personality type of yours, not to mention someone who looks completely different from what you looked like. It underlined your deepest fear, him actually prefering everything that doesn't represent you.

The thought that had held you together for the past years had suddenly lost its meaning, the thought that he loved you more than anyone else, his promise to be always available for you, vanished, broken. You tried to understand, but it was more than just hard to comprehend.

"But why won't you tell me the reason!?" Bucky was crushed when he heard from you that you can't see each other anymore privately, that he had to forget about you and your close friendship. Because what you didn't know, was that he still loved you, he never stopped. He had never found someone better than you because for him someone like that doesn't even exist. Bucky only ever wanted you to be his, the person he's been in love with for the past two years, the one that he can't help but feel the need to take care of.

"I can't just say 'yeah okay, I won't bother you anymore' to my best friend of so many years I've lost count! You're not just a friend to me, y/n. You're everything I have. You're the only person that truly knows me." James wiped his mouth in desperation. He couldn't loose you. He'd stop breathing.

"Yeah, clearly not." You mumbled under your breath.

"What was that?" He didn't quite catch that.

"James, you know how I am. I'm selfish, manipulative and stubborn. I can't look at your face anymore. Not while knowing you're thinking of someone else while looking a me."

Buckys eyes widened. Only now realising what was going on.

"Why would I do that? I only ever think of you. My brain doesn't even know what to think of otherwise. Would you mind to explain what or who got you thinking this way?" He k ow demanded further explanation.

"I don't wanna talk about this anymore. I'm gonna head home." Was the only answer you gave him, taking your bag, ready to leave him the fuck alone with his new girl.

"I think the fuck not." Bucky walked in front of you, blocking your way.

Now it was your turn to be surprised. He never talked to you like this. He barely cursed.

"I really should though, I don't wanna take away your quality time with someone else." It may have sounded childish but you meant it. You didn't wanna take away his chance to find and enjoy love. You've done that enough the past years.

"What are you even talking about? I don't have anyone else to spend my time with, are you kidding me?" He was endlessly confused.

This was the last straw, now you were getting angry. He should stop acting like he wasn't meeting up with this girl that he met at a party. You were fucking there when they introduced each other. And you were convinced he had already slept with her. Though you wouldn't blame him, as she really was gorgeous, not only that, but she seemed genuine, too. A real catch.

"Are you kidding me?! James, stop acting like there's nothing between Anna and you! I know there is, I have eyes, you know. Besides, Steve always tells me how much you talk, not only with her but also about her. And knowing that makes me sick! I want you to be happy, and if that happiness doesn't require me, I'm fine with that, but I don't wanna watch you fall in love with her! I just can't, okay? So my decision is to avoid you two so I don't have to look at it any fucking longer, or else I'll go insane!" That's it. That's all you had to say. It was more than you intended to but at least you've got it out.

Bucky just stood there, completely baffled, speechless. He couldn't believe it.

You've tried to shove him out of your way, but he didn't budge.

"If you aren't gonna say anything, can I leave?" You groaned, feeling vulnerable now that he knew your heart.

"So you are telling me, you're jealous of Anna? Of someone who'll always be more interested in you than me?" Your heart began to race.

"Are you implying that she isn't into guys?" You wanted to make sure, not quite getting his point.

Bucky nodded calmly.

"Yeah, she's into you though." He replied.

"Oh my God!" You scoffed, embarrassed by yourself, looking anywhere except his eyes.

"I really thought you liked her. I thought you two were hooking up. I'm so sorry for misinterpreting this, James."

"Quit with the 'James'. You were jealous, weren't you?" He nudged you.

"I guess I was." You nodded shyly.

"Does that mean that- that you like me?" His cheeks getting rosy, you looked up at him.

"Of course I like you, dork!" You laughed, but he sighed.

"No I mean; really like me. As in you're in love me?" Bucky was unsure and scared asking this, but it was time to make this confession.

You looked away, your smile turning into something more vulnerable.

"I don't know? I just want you to myself. I want you to only take care of me, no one else. You're only boy I would let sleep in my bed next to me. And over all I guess I wouldn't mind being more than just a friend to you."

Bucky gently stroked your tear stained cheek, looking lovingly into your eyes.

"You've always been more than a friend to me Y/n. If you let me, I would like to call you my girlfriend and not just my best friend. Because hell, I fucking am in love with you!" He leaned in and let his lips softly touch yours for the first time. It was even better than he imagined it to be.

You two kissed for the following ten minutes without having to take a break. When he carefully let go of your lips to breath, he leaned his forehead against you and sighed once again, this time in utter happiness.

"So what do you say? Will you finally be mine?" His voice sweet and so full of love, just like the kiss you had shared.

"I don't know, what did you say? Anna likes me, yeah?" You joked, giggling into his chest.

He laughed along with you.

"Don't you dare." Bucky smiled, giving you another kiss.

He knew he wouldn't ever be able to get enough of the girl he was now finally allowed to call his.

[not-so-allegiant-general]

There were nights when Brendol Hux was appearing in his bedroom uninvited. He was dead. Hux knew that. But somehow he couldn't throw him out of his head. It was humiliating. Siting on the ground and crying because someone gifted him a bottle of alcohol. The kind of alcohol that Brendol used to drink all the time. And Hux could only feel shattered glass cutting his skin, he could only hear screams and insults. And It kept happening. Suddenly the panic took over, and he wasn't general any more. He was a whining child, crying on the ground, struggling to catch his breath, trembling and praying for this to stop.

And memories. Memories of pain, violence and abuse. Of fear and humiliation. Of deepest and blackest despair.

And after all of that just emptiness. He could sit on the ground or under his desk for hours, tremble and stare into nothing. And feel nothing. And be nothing. No matters how hard he tried Brendol was always somewhere near. Haunting him and harming him even after death.

Once, Kylo found him under the desk. It was after inspection on Arkanis. Hux was impressed that he could at least keep his composure planet side.

"Hux?..."

"Please stop" he clenched hands on his hair trying hard to breath. Kylo blinked looking at him in confusion.

"General?" He came closer.

"Don't touch me!" Hux pressed himself into corner. " Please stop. Leave me alone" Ren stand there looking at him not really knowing what to do with this broken Hux. He checked his mind, inhaled sharply and withdrew quickly

"What a mess..." He murmured to himself and took off his helmet "Hux? Can you hear me? " Hux couldn't. And he was hyperventilating. "You need to breath. Hux. " Hux. General flinched hearing him in his head. That's right. Breath. Good. "You want some of that awful tarine tea?" Hux nodded taking another breath. Kylo brought him a cup and a blanket from the bed. Hux was looking at him silently, a bit calmer now but still trembling. Ren put cup and a blanket next to him and sat down on the ground closely. It took Hux a few more minutes to actually drank some tea and draped blanket over himself. It felt warn. It felt good.

"Can you stand up?"

"What?"

"Up Hux?"

"ah.. no. I.. don't think so.. "he rubbed his cheek on the blanket. Like a cat. Kylo thought. "I usually drag myself to the bed on all fours. Till today i thought there is actually nothing more humiliating than this but life is full of surprises isn't it?" Hux laughed " Are you going to mock now or do i get a few minutes to end my tea?"

Already so defensive...

" Don't talk too much just keep breathing" he ignored his bubbling and gave him his hand. "Come"

Hux went silent he got up carefully and leaned on Kylo. Then curled on the bed. Ren sat down on the edge.

"You are not going to mock aren't you?"

" No."

"Its ever worse"

Kylo sighed.

"Every time you open that mouth of yours i want to destroy something you know?" He felt fear. "No. Am sorry i... Didn't meant It like that i won't harm you"

Hux snorted.

"Do you now? I do have quite nice collection of bruises because of you, Lord Ren" and suddenly Kylo felt shame creeping at his cheeks.

"I..."

"Spare me this. I don't want to hear empty apologies just to be thrown on another console next week"

" It won't happen again, Hux"

" If you say so." He said drawing circles with his finger on the pillow. " Why did you... You brought me tea and... "

"Yes. And i will stay for the night. Do. Not. Argue. With that. "

" Why are you doing this ? "

Kylo sighed taking off his boots.

"i guess... I spent too many nights under my bed to find it funny" he looked at him.

" Did you met there any monsters? Or you're the one that most children are scared of?"

" Funny. Surely not the one that you're scared of".

"No. I was never scared of monsters."

"That... Explains a lot. Actually. " Hux laughed humourlessly.

"Yes Ren. It takes more than this badly crafted saber, mask and choking to scare me. I actually prefer when you come after me than after my crew"

"What?"

" I can take a lot and be... Mostly fine" he said silently and sat straight. " But i need my crew to be healthy and fully operational. Last time you choked Mitaka he was at medical leave for a week." Kylo snorted " it's not funny Ren! " Hux snapped at him.

"So you are saying it's not coincidence that every time i am in the middle of...

"Tantrum" Hux offered smoothly.

"Whatever. It's not coincidence that you are always around"

"Of course it's not. I am responsible for this people. As i said i prefer that you vent your anger on me. Not on them. Now get out. " He stood up.

"Excuse me?"

"Get out" Kylo wanted to touch his arm, but he heard click and found himself under a pointing blaster that Hux was holding "Get out. Or I will call security on you "

"As if they would help you... " he ripped out the blaster of his hand with the force.

That day Kylo Ren learned that Hux has a dagger in his sleeve. And that he actually knows how to use it. And how painful It is to be stabbed with monomolecular blade. Especially when that blade breaks in half inside of the wound. That day he learned that Hux is not a rabid cur. He is a viper. He strikes quickly. And with terrifying precision. If blade entered his body a few millimetre in any different direction he would be dead.

That day he learned that Armitage Hux is indeed dangerous.

[manicallyrhapsodical]

when did i start hating birthdays?

my birthday is coming up in a few weeks, and i’m not sure how i feel. when i was a kid, i loved my birthday. it was a day (more like a week; i was spoiled) focused entirely on me! people gave me presents, celebrated with me, and told me how much they loved me. what’s not to love?

however, as time passes and i get older, the idea and concept of birthdays becomes less enjoyable. maybe it’s because i’m a summer birthday, or perhaps this is just how birthdays are regardless, but birthdays now remind me of how forgotten someone can be. don’t get me wrong, without fail, i’ll get birthday wishes from my family and best friend, random people i don’t expect anything from but am pleased to hear from, and friends i’m surrounded by now. however, it doesn’t matter how many people reach out to me; i always think about those who don’t.

why didn’t they reach out when i did on their birthday? how many people would still reach out if i deleted my social media and people didn’t have a reminder? i thought we were better friends, so why hadn’t i heard from them?

one of my deepest fears is that of being unliked by people and either not knowing why so i can’t fix it or knowing why and being unable to resolve the issue. to some extent, i think we all suffer from this fear. however, this is something that can paralyze me and make it hard to function. i think when things like birthdays roll around, it presents an opportunity for my overanxious brain to cling on to wondering if people even really like me or if i’m just as annoying, overbearing, awful, abrasive, and socially clueless as i sometimes feel i am.

recently, i had a friend over, and at the end of the night, i felt like i may have been a bit too callous in my humor and offended them. when they left, i kept myself up for hours, wondering why i was the way i was and trying to think what i could do to resolve this issue. the following week and a half, i made myself physically ill with how anxious i felt about the whole situation, and i woke up throwing up every single morning over the fear of them not liking me anymore. i kept myself up late at night, killing myself, thinking of how i could resolve the issue and could get them to like me again. finally, i subtly asked if things were okay between us after a forceful push from a friend.

to no one’s surprise, they hadn’t been offended and thought nothing of that night. while i know i’m not the first or the last to feel these emotions, i can’t help but liken them to my upcoming thoughts about my birthday.

what if people forget because they’ve secretly loathed me for years? what if people purposely don’t reach out because they want me to feel bad? even worse, what if no one reaches out because no one cares? what if no one reaches out, and i’m forced to confront that maybe i don’t have as many friends and people who care about me as i think i do?

these are the ramblings and thoughts of an anxious mind, and i do what i can to control it. misery loves company, and i’ve appreciated talking to a few people close to me who can empathize with how i feel when my birthday rolls around each year. obviously, this isn’t an overnight fix. still, hopefully, things can resolve themselves enough in a few weeks that i’ll spend more time being grateful for the time and attention i get instead of dwelling on the anxieties of the “what-ifs.” who knows?

[polina-tvorozhok]

U say we can vent to you, right?

Well...it was quite shocking, and yet I was devastatingly...numb? I was supposed to cry; why am I numb?!

...

Maybe it was because my grandma (dad's mom specifically) also died this year, in July. Maybe it was because despite us trying to nuture her to full health, she still died.

Maybe it was because of just being too familiar with being near some concept of mortality (I...won't elaborate on that.). Maybe it was because of the knowledge that I could die one day and it would be unexpected, even if it was from a disease I could inherit from either side of the family, and even worse—none of you will know because nobody in my place knows about this account, or will ever respect what comes from it if they know of it.

Maybe it was because of the fact I've already contemplated the fear and implications of literal death to a creative person, or anyone in general—even myself: what stories have they not tell, what ideas were never written out, what interests never shared, what secrets never shown—although if it was really meant to be there, it's better for secrets to be six feet under the grave.

I have no idea if this is selfish because...you know...things in my life fucked me up and my perception to myself and every aspect of life like, I dunno, DEATH?!

My religion doesn't believe that the dead become ghosts who either goes to heaven or hell, or anything about ghosts. Being an SDA will make you inevitably know about that part of our beliefs, where instead of such scenarios, the body was in a deep sleep until Jesus Christ comes. But at the same time, we can never tell what happens after—if it was an eternal slumber until the end comes, if we were just left...on Earth...and never wake up or be revived, if we reincarnate into other realities, if our ghosts roam in our own homes and cry over everything, if....anything happens.

Fuck...there goes the tears now...maybe writing does triggee the emotionsof the soul.

I believe that parallel realities and the multiverse can be possible in a separates way, because we live in a timeline where many things could have happen—for the better, for the worse, for everything that may or may not be mournable. But we indeed live in a timeline where misopportunities lead the evil keep on living, and misfortune for the good to fail so. The best thing we can do is to honor the stories and memories we have with Carla Carolina, to respect everything we know about her.

If the ghosts thing is true, maybe she can smile this way. If my religion's belief is true, maybe she would be told of how people reacted to her being lost from us. But whatever other things that could possibly happen...

I so sorry for the lost. Deepest condolences.

...

~✴️ (hope you know who is behind this)

I'm not sure who's behind the message, but it doesn't really matter. What matters is your experience. I'm so sorry for all of your losses.

Don't worry about the crying thing. I woke up to the news and still haven't shed a tear. Maybe it's because I wasn't as close to her as sime of you. Or maybe because I have already experienced a similar kind of grief (when my great grandma died in Ukraine, I won't be able to visit her grave in a good while) but the point is, everyone grieves different. Yet the thought that she a child still breaks my heart.

We both got in the hospital at the same time. Yet for some reason it was her who had two go. For some reason I felt guilty lying in the hospital while knowing that someone out there had it much worse than me. For a moment I believed that her getting hit by a car was some sort of a twisted way God used to send her to hospital and heal her.

Then again, she may not have survived but she hopefully had a painless death. I like to believe that her saying she was better was a swan song, a last boost of happiness the organism produces to comfort itself before passing. I'm sure she had people by her side to hold her hand. I'm sure she was loved till the very end and after it, because she is.

If you, as you say, are a religious or spiritual person, then pray for her and her family. Remember, Carla would want you to be healthy and happy so please take care of yourself.

Stay strong 🤍

[iouinotes]

Heroic Betrayal | Luke Castellan (part 3)

PERCY JACKSON AND THE OLYMPIANS SERIES AND THE BOOKS SPOILERS

pairing: Luke Castellan x female!reader

show: Percy Jackson and the Olympians

warnings: dark!character, betrayal, angst

summary: You meet Luke again in battle. But nothing turns out the way either of you expect.

a/n: The third part, yayyy! Somehow I still can't figure out the end. But as long as no one complains, I won't stop :))

I'm breathing heavily, my feet hurt and I'm struggling to stand properly on my legs. The wound on my arm hurts, I can feel the blood running down my arms. My shirt is soaked red. I feel the strong urge to cry and I'm amazed that I can still breathe. Everything around me is spinning, but the fear keeps me running.

I know he's ahead of me. That I'm chasing after him. His golden sword reflects shadows in our surroundings. Any person with enough sense would hide.

But Im done hiding. I want to fight.

Maybe I'm a coward for admitting this now, but I was hoping my friends would be by my side.

My friends…I hope they're okay. I lost sight of them almost immediately when Krono's troops stormed out of the forest and attacked the camp. I only had time to listen to Annabeth's orders and the next thing I knew, I was in the center of the fight.

And then there was Luke.

He was standing there just like he did a few days ago when he showed up here at camp and begged me to come with him. But the idea of being back on that ship scared me more than anything. The thought of being near the Titan.

Close to him who betrayed me.

He doesn't really look any different now, perhaps more angry and murderous than usual. It's enough to wake me from my trance. Because the look in his eyes is darker than the deepest night and it sends a cold shiver down my spine. I'm not running away anymore, I tell myself at that moment.

But just as I'm about to go in his direction, he disappears behind a couple of monsters. I pay little attention to that, only trying to find him again.

I can't let him get away.

So I follow his tracks, stab some of his warriors and make them disappear into smoke. I'm so angry that my jaw is grinding, because I'm clenching my teeth so hard. Then I see his figure behind some trees and suddenly I'm filled with energy. I draw my sword with newfound strength and run towards him.

Until my lungs feel like they're on fire. And yet I don't slow down. I forget how deep I'm going into the forest. I slowly lose my sense of direction as to where I am, even though this has always been our place.

Hidden behind trees, bushes and naiads. Now the branches are on fire, smoke is in the air and there are no friendly forest dwellers to be seen. I stop when I see a flash of golden light to my left. Hope rises in me that Percy has found me.

But as soon as I see his dark hair, everything tightens inside me. I stop and raise my sword protectively in front of me.

"Stop running away! I thought you wanted to fight?" He leans his shoulder casually against a tree, his smile making me seethe with anger.

"Princess, I'm not running away. I was just shielding you from the others." My pulse quickens, adrenaline coursing through me. My grip on the weapon tightens.

"Then what are you waiting for? Come and get me!" I see him shake his head.

"Are you so naive that you seriously believe that? You're not here to be killed." My eyebrows draw together and I shift my weight uncomfortably.

"Then why?"

"I'm doing you a favor. I don't want you to watch your friends walk to their certain deaths." Silence spreads over us. Then his voice cuts through.

"Face it, you're doomed. I'll give you one last chance. Join me."

I hate myself for it, but I hesitate. And I hate it even more that he notices.

,,You friends will never consider it, they will lose. You cant imagine how weak they are compared to Kronos. And I dont-" for a moment, he seems to be uncertain. He presses his lips together and walks a step towards me.

"I would hate myself for eternity, if I allow myself to lose you."

My heart hurts, it's beating in my chest as if it wanted to show me how much I miss him. But could I listen to my heart, even though my mind tells me the opposite?

“How can I trust you again? How can we ever go back to where we where? You and me, we are not the same as before.“ My voice seems drained, my desperation seeks through my facade.

I try not to show him, how I feel. How much I wish for us to get back together. Him telling me jokes, us laughing. Kissing in the sun, after we won Capture the Flag. Playing hide and seek in the woods, hugging and touching each other.

Being in love.

“Dont you want a future with me? Imagine a home, a safe place. Just for us. Against the world.“ He makes it seem so easy. As if the world we know, wouldnt be falling apart in this moment.

“So whats the plan? Fighting against your friends and family? Being Kronos slave?“ He‘s silent for a moment.

“You were always my only family. I only need you by my side.“

„I dont believe you. You are the one who lied to me. I wouldnt lie to you. I would have never left you in the first place.“

"I can't do it without you." I scrunch my eyebrows, how dare he ignores my accusations?

"What are you talking about?" He hesitates.

"I wont be here much longer. Well-thats not really true. My body will still exists, but I wont be myself anymore."

"Dont try to mess with me! You said yourself, you will fight in the war."

"I will, darling. But you wont know me."

"I-I dont understand." He's just an arm's length away from me. His gaze is distant.

"Kronos will awake. He needs a body, so his soul or whatever he has, can dive into. Sort of a reborn-kind-of-thing. And it will be me."

I'm so shocked that I'm unable to react. Hundreds of thoughts stream through my head, the thought of losing him - it's unbearable.

"You wont." His eyes shift from the floor to my face. There is astonishment hidden in his eyes.

"Exuse me?" This time I take the final step closer to him. His face is right in front of mine, both of our swords are drawn at our sides.

"I swear on the Ryver Styx, I wont ever, as long as I live, let you trade yourself to that thing and let you- the real you, die in the process. You just wont." My wild expression is reflected in his pupils. Silence surounds us, then a small, genuine smile that I haven't seen in months spreads across his face.

As if he had all the time in this world, he leans down and stops himself in front of my lips. It's the first time since he left camp that he silently asked me for permission.

,,I love being in love with you." His whispering voice ghosts over me.

I close my eyes and connect our lips. A sweet, slow kiss ensues, his fingers hold my chin up to him.

How could I ever resist him?

When he pulls away, he presses two quick kisses to the corners of my mouth. He calmly pushes a strand of hair out of my face, our eyes watching each other.

"I wish the gods didn't exist. I wish no one existed but us."

As I'm about to answer, I see golden curls behind his back. Percy's appearance surprises me so much that I forget Luke's words for a moment.

I pull myself together as soon as his voice sounds again. "I know you don't see it that way. But if Kronos destroys the gods, if there is a chance to reshape the world, maybe then we could have a chance at peace. Dont you think?"

There is so much hope in his eyes that I would finally believe him, join him in his unattainable dreams.

When my eyes meet Percy's, his look tells me exactly one thing: Distract him.

I love Luke. But I have put my faith in Percy.

So I nod slowly. Silently agreeing with Percy and making it seems, that I agree with Luke. I see how Luke's entire body straighten, his eyes glow with a new light.

He seems happy.

I almost fall in love with him again.

"I knew you would understand when the time is right. I knew it! God, I love you so much." His hands cup my cheeks, he kisses me. So intense that I forget my fears and doubts. I forget that Percy is standing behind him.

Luke's adoring look is the last thing I register before Riptide crashes over his head and the boy I love falls unconscious to the ground.

⚔️⚔️⚔️⚔️

"He is dangerous." Annabeth's voice is the only thing that can be heard clearly in the room. Murmurs, footsteps and rustling are like a rushing background noise. My head hurts.

It's been almost two hours since we were in the forest. I tried to catch Luke's body so he wouldn't hit his head, as he fell to the ground. I didn't really succeed, because now he has a small cut on his forehead.

Percy and Beckendorf helped me bring him to our destroyed camp. But not in the infirmary, instead they dropped him in a cell. I protested, but no one wanted to give him the opportunity to be free and possibly escape.

That's why they locked the door and the sight almost broke my heart. Silena said I shouldn't be here, shouldn't see him like that. But I couldn't leave him alone.

The only time I left was to go to the infirmary, so I could get a first aid kit to treat his wound. Then I had a hard time convincing Percy to let me into his cell.

Now I'm sitting on the floor with his head in my lap, brushing his hair out of his face. They are longer and darker, his face looks older and more exhausted. And I treated the wound on his forehead as best I could, after all, I'm not a child of Apollo.

The scar on his cheek glows faintly red in the light, and I carefully run my fingers over it. Just like I always did when he was stressed. I try to ignore the judgmental looks from others. The withering looks “How can she be with the traitor?" But none of them dare to talk to me about it.

Only Percy looks at me warily, as if I wasn't much older and he was the one who needed to protect me. He really is like a brother to me.

When he also notices the looks of the others and therefore my discomfort, he gestures with his hand to leave us alone. Even if he stays there. It's quiet for a moment.

"You can go to Annabeth. I'll be fine." I look at him, trying to make it clear to him that I'm fine. But he doesn't look convinced.

"He'll be angry when he wakes up. I don't know if it's a good idea for you to be in there." I sigh, my eyes returning to Lukes sleeping face.

"I think it's sweet that you care. But Luke wouldn't-" I stop in my sentence. For a moment I am in doubt. Luke would be angry, of course he would be. And after everything, can I be sure he won't hurt me? This question would never have been considered before. But now?

He never physically hurt me. But he lied to me, betrayed me. Kidnapped and gaslighted me, basically tried to force me to stay with him. He wasn't the same anymore. So how could I be sure?

"He won't let anyone talk to him when he's in here alone. He's too stubborn for that. I'm the only one he would listen to. And even of that I'm not sure." Percy's eyebrows furrow. He looks not much more relieved than he was a minute ago.

"Well, now I'm definitely convinced." His sarcasm makes me smile. And I think that's enough to calm him down.

"I'm sure Annabeth is looking for you right now. Please go, Percy. Let me pretend I have everything under control for a moment." He hesitates, but nodds quietly. His fading footsteps are the last thing I hear before I feel sudden movements in my lap.

My eyes dart towards him. A painful groan escapes his throat, the sound is enough to make my heart beat faster.

Without thinking, I stroke his hair and scratch his head. He always liked this tender gesture. I hope it's enough to temper his anger, which I know is to expect in time.

As his eyes slowly open, I see the disorientation in them. Then he realises what happend. When he sees me, I make out different emotions in the way he looks at me. Fury, sadness, pain.

"I'm sorry." My voice is just a whisper in the silence. As he tries to sit up, I see his strength pulling at him and his face turning pale.

"Wait- you still need to rest. Here" I take the water bottle that Percy put in front of me and carefully hold it to his mouth. He slowly drinks a few sips.

When he's done, I put the bottle back to the side. I look at him, waiting, while my hand remains still.

"You are here." It's not what I expected to hear from him.

I meet his gaze, clearly confused.

"You never liked waking up alone." My voice sounds breathless, an old memory haunts his face.

"Still, I would have thought you would be standing next to Percy, laughing. If you finally have the opportunity to lock me up, I mean." His voice drips with hostility at the mention of Percy, the look in his eyes dark. But at least he doesn't try to stand up again for now.

"I would never do that." He knows it's true.

His eyes look away, his cheek turning to his right side to gaze through the bars. Light falls into the cell.

"You tricked me." It's not an accusation, just a statement.

"I guess we're even." He stays silent when I answer.

"You will not hold me prisoner." I just look at him confused. I don't know how to answer. Does he think the cell is just an unpleasant stay until he can sleep in his cabin again?

Since he doesn't say anything more, I do the same. A few minutes pass, both of us dont know what to say, then distant footsteps are heard and I see Percy again. As sweet as he naturally is, he first looks at me to see if everything is alright. Then his gaze turns to Luke and when he realizes he's awake, his eyes harden. But I see the sadness in them.

After all, Luke was his friend too.

"Percy." Luke's voice sounds malicious, as if he would like to get up and destroy the bars himself to fight Percy.

"Luke." Percy's voice is neutral. Only his facial expression reveals what he feels. He is angry.

The two boys stare at each other and I feel myself getting nervous, so I clear my throat to get their attention.

"What's the plan? Can we get out?" I choose my words carefully. So that Percy knows what I mean and Luke knows that I don't just want to get out myself.

Luke sits up and I see how much effort it takes him. I let him, because I also know that he doesn't want my help in front of Percy. Guys.

Percy hesitates. He also tries to choose his words carefully.

"I don't think we can just let him walk around here-" his voice is interrupted by Luke.

"You won't keep me prisoner in here, Percy. Anyone who has a problem with me should raise their sword against me."

Percy's eyebrows shoot up. “Then good luck competing against the whole camp. I'm sorry, but I cant let you out."

Luke's withering look makes me quickly stand next to him. I try to calmly put my hand on his arm. But faster than I can register, he has me trapped in his arms and is holding my own dagger to my throat. I didn't even notice he stole it from me.

The pressure is so tight that it's hard for me to breathe. I'm frozen. Percy also looks like he's just been struck by lightning.

"Let. Me. Out." I feel my eyes start to water.

"Luke-" but his grip only tightens and my voice falls silent. I feel his eyes stare daggers at Percy's.

"Now." Before I can stop Percy, he takes out the key. But unlike Luke, Percy's gaze is on me. Concern is shown in his eyes.

The door opens and I feel Luke's grip weaken. I see it as my only chance. I step on Luke's foot as hard as I can, pushing him away, while the dagger meets my skin, a suprised grunt escaping him.

I run towards the door and before I can even say anything, Im out and Percy pushes it shut again.

Luke's angry voice mixes with the rapid heartbeat in my ears. I feel Percy's hands on my shoulders and him trying to make eye contact with me.

But all I can do is look at Luke. Seeing his eyes blinded with anger, it scares me.

Before he can say anything else, I turn around and run out of the building.

Please comment how you would like the story to end! Thanks <333

[fairyqueenfiction]

~ Good Little Girl~

Pairing: Doflamingo x Reader Warnings: female reader, pet names, SFW Word Count: 646 words Summary: You're attending a ball being held at the Royal Palace in your home country of Dressrosa after being invited by the King and Warlord of the Sea, Doflamingo. It' coming to the end of the night when Doffy approaches you, asking to take a walk outside with him... A/N: Despite the title, I was actually just inspired by 'Good Little Girl' from Adventure Time as a conversation between Doflamingo and an innocent girl that Doffy has taken a shine to

The cold night breeze sends goosebumps across your body as you walk beside the King of Dressrosa. You're unsure as to why he asked you personally to walk with him in the palace gardens, you're unsure as to why he even asked you to attend this ball at all. You had been working as Doflamingo's tailor for the past couple of months and he claims he wanted you here tonight so you can see the suit you made for him in all it's glory. You even made your own dress for tonight, one Doflamingo seemed quite eager to see you in when he found you working on it. You had figured the King was, as many kings tend to be, a show off. He wanted to show someone from your background the wealth he owns, the people he knows and the power he holds. Maybe this was all just a way to frighten you, after all, this was a Warlord of the Sea, a pirate, a terrifying man. Yet, he doesn't terrify you.

But now, with the sounds of the ball becoming more distant as you walk and the quiet of the night surrounding you both, it doesn't seem like this man intends to boast, right now, he just has a confused look on his face.

"Doflamingo, Sir... where are we going?"

His only response is a smirk and he leads you round a corner. The view here is beautiful, the country of Dressrosa quiet and still in the night. He walks down the stone path to an open area, small lanterns dotted around the edge to light the area up. You follow close behind up before he suddenly stops and turns to you, an unsettling grin on his face.

"Dance with me" he puts his hand out for you, his grin still plastered on his face

"I... okay" you take his hand and he pulls you towards him, his free hand now placed on the small of your back. "I.. I've never danced before.." you sheepishly admit.

"Follow my lead" he responds, the distant music from the party giving you both a rythmn to dance to.

You try your best, but your two left feet do you no justice as you clumsily try to follow his steps, much to Doffy's entertainment as he chuckles.

"hey!" you try to catch yourself as you stumble but Doffy is quicker and catches you tripping over your own feet.

Doffy chuckles again. "You could have said no to coming tonight. But you didn't, because you're a good little girl...would never pick a fight with me, you know who I am, but you're spending the night with me..." he leans in closer to you "what do you want from my world... good little girl?"

You look at him, confused, a slight blush on your cheeks as you lean back a little "you're acting like you're a bad boy, but I don't buy that you're really that kind of guy...and if you are then why do you want to hang out with me?"

Doffy's smile drops as he lets go of you and steps away, turning to face the view of Dressrosa.

"Don't you know I'm a pirate? Every day I'm out killing, sending everyone running like children. I know why you're here with me, I know your deepest fears and that you're not from here..."

Your eyes widen at this revelation... how did he find out?

You take a step towards him. "You're not so bad you know"

He turns around to face you. "Not so bad?" He laughs "I'm the son of a celestial dragon and the Heavenly Demon of the underworld. It's not something I have to try at..." He takes a step towards you, his wide grin returning "You on the other hand..."

"I'm not trying to fight you, I'm here because I want to join you!"