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miorrtae · 4 months ago

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NEWS FLASH ᥫ᭡ TAEYEON SMAU

NF 20

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TW! DEPRESSIVE THOUGHTS AND SU!CID!AL IDEAS PLEASE DO NOT READ IF ARE HAVING ANY IDEAS OR IN A BAD MINDSET PLEASE ! DON’T READ FURTHER IF SO !

As soon as the meeting ended, Y/N let out a quiet breath, relieved to finally be done with the endless discussions about schedules, promotions, and future projects. It had been exhausting, but at least now she could check her phone—something she hadn’t had the chance to do in hours.

Karina stretched beside her, rolling her shoulders before pulling out her own phone. “Finally, let’s see what we missed.”

Y/N hummed in agreement, unlocking her screen as they stepped out into the hallway. Her notifications were flooded—group chats buzzing, news alerts stacked on top of each other, social media exploding with mentions. A frown tugged at her lips as she tapped into one of the messages from a group member.

“Are you okay?”

Her stomach twisted. What were they talking about? She quickly scrolled through more messages.

“Damn, this is wild. Hope you’re good.”

“You probably already know but… wow.”

Anxiety crept up her spine as she tapped on a news notification at the top of her screen.

“SM Entertainment confirms Taeyeon is in a relationship.”

The world tilted for a second. Y/N’s breath hitched as she clicked the article, her eyes darting over the words, reading them over and over as if the meaning would change. But it didn’t. It was real.

A sharp ringing filled her ears, drowning out Karina’s voice as she muttered something beside her. The article was detailed, leaving no room for misinterpretation. It wasn’t speculation, it wasn’t some baseless rumor—it was a confirmation. Taeyeon was with someone.

Y/N swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. How could she have been so stupid? She had actually let herself believe—no, hope—that something real could have existed between them. That all those lingering glances, the teasing, the quiet moments that felt like something more… had actually meant something.

But it was all in her head.

A bitter laugh nearly escaped her lips, but she held it back. Of course. Of course. She had been nothing but a fool, entertaining a fantasy that was never meant to be real.

“Y/N?” Karina’s voice finally broke through the haze, concern etched across her face. “Did you see—”

But Y/N didn’t let her finish. She turned on her heel and walked away, gripping her phone tightly. She didn’t know where she was going—she just needed to get out.

“Y/N!” Karina called after her, but she ignored it.

She needed air. She needed space. She needed to be anywhere but here.

The building felt suffocating, the walls closing in on her as the weight of realization settled in her chest. Each step she took felt mechanical, her mind racing faster than her feet could carry her. She had no plan, no real direction—just the overwhelming need to escape.

Her fingers clenched around her phone, the screen still illuminated with the confirmation of Taeyeon’s relationship, as if mocking her. She turned it off with a sharp breath and shoved it into her pocket. She didn’t need to see it anymore. The words were already burned into her mind.

She pushed through the building’s entrance and into the cool evening air, but it did nothing to ease the suffocating tightness in her chest. The city lights flickered around her, cars passing by in a blur, people moving along the sidewalks, oblivious to the way her entire world had just shifted.

Y/N didn’t stop walking. She didn’t know where she was going, only that she needed to get away before the storm of emotions building inside her finally broke loose. Her feet carried her forward with purpose, like they already knew where she needed to go before her mind could catch up.

It wasn’t until she slid into the back of a taxi and muttered the name of a familiar place that she realized where she was headed.

The beach.

She barely noticed the drive, barely heard the driver’s voice when they arrived. She paid without thinking and stepped out, the wind immediately biting at her skin, carrying the scent of salt and sea. The sound of waves crashing against the shore filled the silence, drowning out the noise in her head.

Her steps felt heavy as she walked toward the shoreline, her shoes sinking slightly into the damp sand. The sky had darkened, a deep navy blue stretching across the horizon, speckled with faint stars. The only light came from the moon, its glow reflecting off the restless waves.

Y/N stood still, arms wrapped around herself as the wind swept through her hair, chilling her skin. She had come here with Taeyeon once—sat on this very sand, watched these very waves. Back then, it had felt like the world had shrunk down to just the two of them, wrapped in a moment that had felt special, significant.

She had been so stupid.

Her throat tightened as she exhaled sharply, trying to push down the bitterness rising inside her. How had she let herself believe—even for a second—that there was something real between them? That Taeyeon’s lingering glances, the teasing, the way she always found an excuse to be close to her, had meant something?

But none of it had mattered.

While Y/N had been sitting there, overanalyzing every interaction, letting herself feel something—Taeyeon had been in a whole relationship.

She let out a bitter laugh, but it quickly faded into the wind. Of course, she had misread everything. Of course, she had been nothing more than a fool, clinging onto moments that were never meant to be anything more than fleeting.

The waves crashed onto the shore, the rhythmic pull of the tide the only thing grounding her in the moment. She wished she could shut off the ache in her chest, the dull throb of humiliation settling into her bones.

Had Taeyeon ever even considered her? Or had she just been stringing her along, oblivious—or worse, indifferent—to how Y/N felt?

The thought made her stomach twist.

She closed her eyes, inhaling deeply, letting the salty air burn her lungs before exhaling slowly. It didn’t help. The lump in her throat remained, the weight in her chest refusing to fade.

Maybe she had come here searching for closure.

Or maybe she had just needed somewhere to fall apart without anyone watching.

Either way, the ocean didn’t care.

It continued its endless cycle, waves rising and crashing, unconcerned with the heartbreak of one foolish girl standing on the shore.

Y/N stood there for what felt like hours, watching the waves, listening to the rhythm of the ocean as it mirrored the chaos in her chest. She had no answers, no clarity, just the relentless pounding of her thoughts.

The sting of her emotions refused to dissipate. Every passing moment only seemed to intensify the weight in her chest, making her feel small, insignificant. She had been left behind in a narrative she wasn’t part of. Taeyeon’s relationship—someone else’s reality—was now a part of Y/N’s world, whether she liked it or not.

She had tried to hold onto hope, to believe in something that now felt like nothing more than an illusion. But reality was sharp, and it cut deep.

She stepped closer to the water, feeling the cold waves lap at her feet. The chill of the ocean soaked through her shoes, but it didn’t matter. The numbness had already settled inside her.

It’s over.

The thought echoed in her mind, the truth sinking in with brutal clarity. There was no going back. There was no chance of them.

But she wasn’t ready to leave yet. Not until she had let everything out.

With a shaky breath, Y/N crouched down by the water’s edge, her fingertips brushing the cold sand. Her reflection in the water seemed so distant, like someone she didn’t recognize. Someone caught between the girl she had been—full of hope, full of possibility—and the girl she was now, standing in the wake of her own heartbreak.

She wanted to scream. To shout until her throat was raw. To throw everything into the ocean and make the world listen to her pain.

But the waves continued their eternal dance, indifferent to her turmoil.

Y/N stayed there, letting the silence wrap around her like a blanket, letting her thoughts swirl in the emptiness of the night. Eventually, the tears came. Quiet at first, slipping down her cheeks unnoticed by the world around her, before they came harder, her sobs catching in her throat.

For a moment, there was no Taeyeon, no relationship—just Y/N, standing at the edge of something unknown, something that felt like the end of one chapter, but maybe the beginning of something new. Something she wasn’t sure she was ready for.

The waves kept crashing, as relentless as her heart. But for the first time, she didn’t try to fight it.

Then suddenly a voice came, softer than the crashing waves, and so familiar.

The voice was soft, tentative, like it wasn’t quite sure if it was welcome here. But it was unmistakable.

“Y/N?”

Her heart skipped, the sound of her name floating over the noise of the ocean like a lifeline. It pulled her out of the haze, but she didn’t turn around. She couldn’t.

Her throat felt tight, words lodged there as if they were strangers, unfamiliar and foreign. She wanted to say something—anything—but the ache was too much. Every part of her felt raw, exposed, like she had been peeled back to something she couldn’t hide anymore.

The voice came again, closer this time, a little more insistent. “Y/N, please…”

It was Taeyeon. Y/N didn’t need to look to know that. She could hear the uncertainty in her voice, the way it trembled, as if Taeyeon wasn’t sure how to bridge the distance between them.

Y/N squeezed her eyes shut, her hands trembling at her sides. She felt so small, so fragile, standing here in the shadow of her own heartbreak. The last thing she wanted to do was face her. Not now. Not like this.

Taeyeon took another step forward, the soft sound of her shoes against the wet sand making Y/N’s chest tighten even more. “I—I didn’t mean for you to find out like this.”

The words hit Y/N like a punch to the gut. It wasn’t the first time Taeyeon had said something like that, but this time, it felt different. More real. More regretful.

But it didn’t change the fact that Y/N had been the one left in the dark. Left behind.

Y/N shook her head, a strangled sound escaping from her throat. She wanted to scream, to shout all the hurt, all the confusion, but all she could do was stand there, rooted to the sand, her heart aching in places she didn’t even know existed.

“Y/N…” Taeyeon’s voice softened, almost pleading, but it only made things worse. It only reminded Y/N of everything that had never been. The what-ifs, the hope that had been foolish and naive, now shattered in the reality of what was.

Y/N wanted to pull away. To disappear into the night, into the waves, where everything could just fade away. But Taeyeon was there, standing just a few feet away, and Y/N didn’t know how to face her. Not now. Not after everything.

“Why?” Y/N’s voice cracked, barely a whisper against the roar of the ocean. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

The question hung in the air, sharp and heavy. Taeyeon didn’t answer immediately. She took another step, the distance between them still so vast, yet it felt like they were worlds apart.

“I couldn’t,” Taeyeon said, her voice breaking in the most fragile way. “I didn’t know how…”

The vulnerability in her voice should have softened Y/N’s heart. Should have made her feel some kind of relief. But all it did was pull the wound open wider.

“I never meant to hurt you,” Taeyeon continued, her words stumbling over one another. “I just—”

But Y/N couldn’t hear it anymore. Couldn’t listen to the excuses, the justifications. She had been left behind, and nothing anyone said could take that away.

The silence between them stretched longer, each breath heavier than the last. The waves crashed relentlessly, filling the void where words should have been. Y/N felt the weight of everything pressing down on her chest, her mind numb from the tidal wave of emotions crashing against her.

Taeyeon didn’t move, but her presence was there—solid and tangible—standing like a shadow beside Y/N, even if it felt like a million miles away. Y/N couldn’t bring herself to look at her, not yet, not when the ache in her chest was too raw, too fresh.

The tears had stopped, but the hurt lingered, deep and unrelenting. She wanted to say something, anything to make it go away, but the words never came. Instead, she stood there, her heart aching in its quiet defiance.

“I never meant for you to feel like this,” Taeyeon whispered, her voice trembling, barely above the sound of the wind. But the apology felt empty, as if the damage had already been done and no amount of words could undo it.

Y/N closed her eyes again, shutting out the sight of Taeyeon standing there, wanting to escape, to distance herself from the girl who had unknowingly woven herself into her heart, only to break it without a second thought.

The silence between them remained, each moment drawing out the tension. Y/N wanted to scream, to demand answers, to ask why it all had to happen this way. But she was exhausted. So tired of fighting a battle that had already been lost.

Taeyeon’s footsteps came closer, tentative, hesitant. “I never wanted to hurt you, Y/N. You have to believe me.”

But Y/N didn’t believe her anymore. It wasn’t the words that mattered. It was the truth. The truth that Y/N had been nothing more than an afterthought. A distraction in the midst of a love story that wasn’t hers to be a part of.

Finally, Y/N opened her mouth, the words coming out hoarse and raw. “I need you to leave.”

The request was simple, but it felt like it carried the weight of a thousand unspoken things. Y/N didn’t look at her as she spoke, didn’t need to. She already knew the sting of seeing Taeyeon’s face, the regret written all over it. She didn’t want to face it anymore.

There was no reply from Taeyeon. No attempt to convince her, to apologize once more. For once, the air was quiet—without the weight of Taeyeon’s voice trying to make everything better.

The silence between them stretched, thick and suffocating. Taeyeon’s presence lingered, unmoving, as if she were caught in the pull of an invisible current, struggling against something unseen.

The wind picked up, curling around them with a biting chill, but Taeyeon didn’t shiver. She barely breathed. There was a stiffness in her stance, her hands clenched at her sides like she was holding onto something too fragile to release.

Y/N felt the weight of it—the hesitation, the turmoil just beneath the surface. But she didn’t turn around. Didn’t ask.

Another breath. A shift in the air.

Then, just as quickly as it came, it was gone. Taeyeon exhaled softly, a quiet surrender lost to the wind. Whatever had held her still loosened its grip, and she took a step back. Then another.

And then she was leaving.

Y/N kept her eyes on the horizon, on the endless stretch of dark water before her. She didn’t watch Taeyeon go. But she heard it—the hesitant retreat, the pause, the lingering presence that faded too slowly, as if Taeyeon wasn’t sure she should be walking away at all.

Then, at last, she was gone.

Y/N stayed by the shore, her back to the girl who had broken her heart. She didn’t need Taeyeon’s words anymore. She just needed the ocean to swallow her up, to take away the hurt and the confusion, to erase the memory of the girl she had once thought she could have had everything with.

But the ocean remained steady, indifferent. It would keep crashing, keep moving, no matter how long she stayed.

And Y/N, for the first time in a long time, felt small and insignificant in the vastness of it all.

taglist + @gtfoiydlyj @sewiouslyz @xen248 @mineige @yjiminswallet @saysirhc @pandafuriosa60 @yeri-luvr

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badathumanemotions · 6 months ago

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Hi, I really liked your Elle x reader fics. Is there a possibility for you to write another one. Maybe one where the reader is new to the team and to get to know the team better they go for drinks and the reader ends up hooking up with Elle?

Chasing the Spark

Elle Greenaway x Reader

MDNI Masterlist Category: Smut CW: BAU Reader, Flirting in the Workplace, Bar, Oral Sex, Fingering, Strap On, Vaginal Sex, Aftercare. WC: 8,966 Figured this was a good way to ring in the new year.

(Not Proof Read)

The stark fluorescent lights of the BAU office bathed the room in a cold, artificial glow as you took your first tentative steps into the bullpen. Your heart thudded against your ribcage, each beat echoing in the quiet hum of the air conditioner. You had studied the faces of your soon-to-be colleagues in your briefing materials, but now, as you looked at them in person, you realized you hadn't truly prepared for the weight of their expectations. You were the new kid on the block, a freshly minted agent ready to tackle the darkest recesses of the human psyche.

Agent Hotchner's office loomed ahead, his nameplate gleaming in the sterile light. As you approached, you couldn't help but feel the eyes of the group in the bullpen on you. They whispered in hushed tones, all the while casting sly glances in your direction. You wondered if they were sizing you up, trying to gauge what kind of agent you would be. Would you be the eager pupil, eager to learn from their years of experience? Or perhaps they saw you as competition, a new face threatening to outshine their well-earned reputations?

With a deep breath, you raised your hand and gently knocked on the door. "Come in," Hotchner's firm, yet measured voice called out. You pushed the door open and stepped into his office, the scent of leather and old books enveloping you. The office was organized, files were neatly stacked on his desk along with a framed picture of his family, a reminder of the lives that hinged on the work done here.

"Agent…" he began, looking up from his paperwork, his eyes scanning over you before his face broke into a professional smile. "Welcome to the BAU. I've read your file. Impressive background." He gestured to the chair opposite his desk. "Please, take a seat."

Morgan leaned back in his chair, a knowing smirk playing on his lips as he watched you through the window of the office. He turned to Reid, who was flipping through a stack of files with the intensity of a scholar in a library. "So, what do you think about our new addition?"

Reid's eyes snapped up from the paperwork, a look of surprise flitting across his face. "The new agent? I haven't had the chance to meet her yet. From what I've read, she's got quite the background in psychology. Should be an asset to the team." His voice held a hint of curiosity as he spoke, but his eyes remained glued to the case files before him.

Morgan's smirk grew as he nodded in your direction. "You should say hello. I think you two might hit it off." He winked at Reid, who rolled his eyes playfully, but didn't miss a beat in his work.

Reid’s disinterest in the conversation was clear, but Morgan wasn’t one to let a moment go by without stirring things up a little. With a mischievous grin, he leaned back in his chair and turned his attention to Elle. "So, Elle," Morgan said, his voice deliberately light. "What do you think of our new recruit?" He motioned toward the new agent with a nod, raising an eyebrow in her direction.

Elle looked up from her computer screen, her eyes meeting Morgan's. She had noticed the new agent too, the way her heart had fluttered when your eyes first met. It was a sensation she hadn’t felt in a long time, not since her days in the academy, and it caught her off guard. "From what I've heard," she began, her voice smooth as silk. "She's got an excellent track record. Should be interesting to see how she handles the fieldwork."

Morgan's smirk remained as he leaned back in his chair. "Interesting indeed," he murmured. "But you know what I mean, Elle." He nudged her lightly with his elbow, his eyes glinting with mischief. "How do you think she'll fit in with the team dynamics?"

Elle's eyes narrowed slightly, and she gave Morgan a look that was a clear warning not to push his luck. "As a professional unit, she'll fit just fine," she replied curtly, her tone leaving no room for further speculation.

Morgan chuckled, recognizing the subtle rebuke. He leaned back in his chair, his gaze shifting to the new agent sitting in Hotch's office. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment that he wouldn't get to stir the pot. But he knew better than to push it with Elle. Her focus was unwavering, and she took her job—and her team—seriously.

Hotch looked up from his paperwork, his eyes meeting yours as he stood up, gesturing for you to do the same. "Come," he said, his voice a gentle command. "Let me introduce you to the team."

As you followed him out of the office, you felt the weight of his hand on your shoulder, guiding you down to the bull pen. The murmurs grew louder as the team looked up from their screens and papers to acknowledge your presence. You could feel the electricity in the air as you approached, a mix of curiosity and challenge.

"Everyone," Hotch said, his voice even and professional. "This is the newest member of the team. She's joining us as a behavioral analyst. She comes highly recommended, and I expect you all to help her settle in."

He gave a small pause before continuing, his gaze moving from person to person as he made the introductions.

"This is Agent Derek Morgan," Hotch said as you stepped closer to the desks. Morgan looked up, his eyes locking with yours. This time, his smile was unmistakably flirty, and it made your cheeks flush. He had a certain charm about him, a magnetism that was palpable even across the room.

Morgan stood up, a teasing smile spreading across his face as he approached you. He extended his hand with a wink, his voice warm but playful.

"Well, look at you," he said, his tone light and joking. "Derek Morgan, but you can call me Morgan—everyone does." He gave her a quick, confident shake, his grin never fading. "I have a feeling you're gonna fit right in here. And if not, I’ll make sure to show you the ropes."

He stepped back, his eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief. "But seriously, don’t be surprised if I end up being your favourite teammate. It’s just kind of how I roll."

JJ stands up with a warm smile, her eyes immediately friendly and welcoming. She extends her hand toward you, her grip firm but kind. “Hey there,” she says, her voice full of warmth. “I’m Jennifer Jareau, but you can just call me JJ.”

You shake her hand, and she continues with a reassuring smile. “Welcome to the team. If you ever need someone to talk to—whether it's about a case or just to grab a coffee and chat—I’m your girl.”

Her tone is comforting, making it clear she’s someone you can rely on. “I’m really looking forward to working with you."

Reid glances up from the file in his hands, his expression shifting from focused to slightly startled when he notices you. He stands quickly, his movements a bit awkward as he nods in your direction. “Oh, hi,” he says, his voice soft and earnest. “I’m Dr. Spencer Reid, but you can just call me Reid. Everyone does.”

He hesitates for a moment, as if unsure what to do with his hands, eventually tucking them into his pockets. “It’s, uh, nice to meet you. I read your file—well, not in a weird way, it’s just that Hotch mentioned we’d be working together, so I thought I’d familiarize myself with your background.” Reid pauses, realizing he might be rambling, and quickly adjusts.

He gives you a small, slightly nervous smile before retreating back to his seat, his attention already shifting back to the case file in his hands.

Before you can even process what’s happening, a burst of colour and energy sweeps toward you. “Oh, you must be the new agent!” Garcia exclaims, her voice bright and welcoming. Without hesitation, she pulls you into a tight, cheerful hug, her arms wrapping around you as if you’ve been friends forever.

“I’m Penelope Garcia, resident tech goddess and ray of sunshine,” she announces as she steps back, beaming at you. Her hands rest on your shoulders for a moment as she looks you over. “And can I just say, you have such good vibes already. I can tell we’re going to be besties. It’s fate. Don’t fight it.”

She winks playfully before releasing you entirely, taking a step back with a flourish. “If you ever need anything, whether it’s tech magic, emotional support, or snacks, I’m your girl. Welcome to the BAU!”

Her enthusiasm is infectious, and despite the initial surprise, you can’t help but return her smile. “Thank you, I’m looking forward to working with you all,” you reply, feeling a genuine warmth spread through your chest.

Elle looked up as you approached, her sharp gaze softening ever so slightly. She stood slowly, a confident smirk tugging at her lips, though her heart betrayed her with a quickened beat she refused to show. “So,” she said, her voice smooth and steady, “you’re the one we’ve been hearing about.”

She took a step closer, her eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made it hard to look away. “Elle Greenaway,” she introduced herself, her smirk growing into a sly grin. “And let me tell you something—you’ve got the whole team talking, which means you must be good. But don’t think that means I’m going to go easy on you.”

Her words carried a teasing edge, her tone walking the fine line between challenge and flirtation. She crossed her arms, leaning slightly toward you as if daring you to respond. “Here’s a piece of advice: stick with me, and you might just survive Morgan’s jokes and Reid’s statistics. But only if you can keep up.”

With that, Elle winked and stepped back, her smirk still firmly in place as she turned to sit back at her desk. Her voice lingered in the air, low and confident. “Welcome to the team, rookie.”

You felt a blush creep up your neck, but you weren’t one to back down from a challenge. You returned her smirk with one of your own. “I’ll do my best to keep up, Greenaway,” you quipped, the corners of your mouth tugging upwards. “But I wouldn’t count on being the only one to throw surprises around here.”

Elle’s eyebrow quirked up in surprise, her expression shifting from playful to intrigued. She studied you for a moment longer than the others, as if trying to see into your mind. Then, she nodded slowly, a hint of respect shimmering in her gaze. “We’ll see about that, rookie.”

The introductions concluded, the team members returned to their respective desks, diving back into the sea of paperwork and case files that awaited them. The air in the bullpen grew quiet once again, the only sounds the rustling of pages and the clacking of computer keys. The tension of the moment dissipated, replaced by the familiar rhythm of their work. You took a deep breath, feeling both relieved and energized by the exchange.

"Alright, Reid," Hotch said, his gaze flickering towards you. "Why don't you walk our newest agent through the daily routines?" He handed you a stack of files with a nod, his voice firm but not unkind.

Reid looked up from his paperwork, surprise flashing across his face. "Me?" he questioned, glancing around the room. His cheeks tinged pink at the sudden attention.

"Actually," Elle interjected, her eyes still locked onto yours with a knowing smirk. "I've got some free time. I can show her around." The room fell silent, and every pair of eyes shot towards her, the surprise palpable. But before anyone could object or question her offer, she was already standing.

Hotch's eyebrows shot up slightly, his gaze moving from you to Elle and back again. He hesitated for a moment before giving a single, firm nod. "Very well," he said, his voice betraying no emotion.

Elle stepped forward, her hand brushing against yours as she took the stack of files from your grasp. Her touch was electric, sending a jolt of energy up your arm. She placed them on the desk opposite hers, the space between you now charged with something you couldn’t quite name. The air grew thick with tension, and the whispers of the other agents faded into the background.

"Follow me," she said, her voice low and sultry. It was clear to you that this wasn't her normal behaviour. You were under the impression that she was all business, a consummate professional with a sharp tongue and an even sharper mind. But there was something about the way she looked at you, something in the way she talked to you, that made you feel like you were bringing something new out in her. It was flattering and slightly intimidating, but you couldn't help the thrill of excitement that bubbled in your stomach.

Elle led you through the maze of the BAU office, her hand lightly resting on the small of your back. It was a gesture that could have been innocent, a way to guide you through the unfamiliar space, but the way her thumb made small, lazy circles against your back suggested something else entirely. You felt her heat, the warmth of her palm radiating through the fabric of your shirt, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

The break room was a stark contrast to the bullpen's seriousness—a small, cramped space filled with a mismatched assortment of chairs and a table that bore the stains of countless coffee cups. The fridge hummed quietly in the corner, a sanctuary for forgotten lunches and leftover snacks. She pointed out the coffee maker with a knowing smile. "This will be your best friend and worst enemy," she quipped, her breath tickling your ear.

Moving through the corridor, you caught a glimpse of Garcia's office, a kaleidoscope of colour and personality. The walls were plastered with photos, sticky notes, and random knick-knacks that spoke volumes about her vibrant spirit. "Garcia's domain," Elle said, her voice a mix of amusement and respect. "You'll want to keep on her good side— she's got more access to information than any of us know what to do with."

The next stop was the case file storage room, a place that felt eerily silent compared to the bustle of the bullpen. The room was vast, with rows upon rows of metal shelves reaching up to the ceiling, each holding the dark secrets of cases past.

Elle led you to the back corner, her heels clicking against the linoleum floor. The fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting long, spider-like shadows that danced across the floor. You felt a sudden chill, not from the room's temperature but from the intensity of her gaze. She turned to face you, her body language open but with an undeniable hint of predatory instinct. "So, rookie," she began, her voice low and intimate, "what do you think?"

You met her gaze, a small, confident smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “What do I think?” you echoed, your tone teasing as you leaned slightly closer. “I think the team’s impressive… but you might be the most intriguing part so far.”

Her smirk deepened, a glint of amusement sparking in her eyes, and you could swear the corner of her mouth twitched as if she was trying not to laugh. “Careful, rookie,” she said smoothly, her voice carrying just a hint of challenge. “Flattery only gets you so far around here.”

Elle led you back to the bullpen, her stride unhurried but purposeful. The faint click of her heels echoed through the quiet office, a rhythm you couldn’t help but notice. When you reached the empty desk, she gestured to the files waiting there and pulled out a chair beside it.

“Sit,” she said simply, sliding into the chair next to yours without hesitation. She leaned in close, the faint scent of her perfume reaching you as her shoulder brushed lightly against yours. Her fingers danced over the pages as she flipped through the first file, her movements calm and deliberate.

“You’ll pick this up quick,” she murmured, her voice low, as though the rest of the team wasn’t just a few feet away. Her tone held a casual confidence, but there was an almost magnetic pull in the way she lingered just a little too close. “This part’s where you get to know how things really work around here.”

Her gaze flicked to yours, a subtle smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Think you can keep up?” she asked, the challenge in her tone unmistakable.

The space between you felt almost nonexistent as she leaned closer, pointing to something on the page but never breaking eye contact for long. It wasn’t just the proximity—it was the quiet intensity of her focus on you, the feeling that she was assessing more than just your ability to follow along.

Every time her hand brushed yours, a subtle tingle spread through you, impossible to ignore. Whether it was the accidental graze of her fingers as she turned a page or the way she leaned closer to point something out, the charge in the air between you was undeniable.

If the rest of the team noticed the overt flirting, they didn’t show it. Morgan, who normally couldn’t resist teasing, remained silent, though you caught his knowing smirk out of the corner of your eye.

Before long, you began to find a rhythm, the paperwork no longer feeling foreign or overwhelming under Elle’s guidance. She leaned back slightly, watching you jot down notes with an approving tilt of her head. “Looks like you’ve got it,” she murmured, her tone still teasing but with a hint of reluctance.

Reluctance that grew as she pushed her chair back, standing slowly and stretching. “Guess my work here is done,” she said, smirking as she gestured toward her own desk. “No more excuses to invade your personal space.”

Her words hung in the air as she walked away, the sway of her stride every bit as confident as when she first approached you. You felt the absence of her presence immediately, the space around you suddenly colder without her warmth so close.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of case files, briefings, and the steady hum of the office around you. Despite the tasks at hand, you found your attention drifting more often than you’d like to admit. A few stolen glances toward Elle caught her watching you in return, her expression unreadable save for the faintest hint of amusement in her eyes.

When she wasn’t looking, you caught yourself smiling at the memory of her earlier teasing, her low voice still echoing in your mind. It was a dangerous distraction, but one you couldn’t seem to resist.

As the clock crept closer to the end of the day, Morgan stood from his desk and clapped his hands together, his booming voice cutting through the office. “Alright, people, let’s wrap it up. And since it’s our newbie’s first day,” he added with a grin, his eyes sparkling with mischief, “how about we head out for a drink? Team bonding, you know. My treat.”

JJ and Garcia exchanged excited looks, clearly on board with the idea. Elle leaned back in her chair, her gaze flicking toward you as a smirk tugged at her lips.

“Well, rookie,” she said, her tone teasing as always, “what do you say? Think you can handle a night out with the team?”

You didn’t hesitate before answering. “Sure, sounds like fun,” you said, earning a grin from Morgan and a nod of approval from JJ. Within minutes, the team—minus Hotch and Gideon—was packing up their things and heading toward the elevator.

The group quickly claimed a large booth, Morgan insisting on ordering the first round as everyone settled in.

Elle slid into the booth next to you, her shoulder brushing against yours in the cramped space. She glanced your way with a smirk, raising an eyebrow. “So,” she said, her voice just loud enough for you to hear over the music, “think you’ll survive your first team outing?”

Before you could respond, Garcia clinked her glass against yours with an exaggerated cheer. “To our new agent!” she declared, her enthusiasm drawing a few amused laughs from the others.

The drinks flowed easily, and the conversation followed, ranging from lighthearted banter to stories about past cases. Despite the bustling room, you couldn’t shake the awareness of Elle’s presence beside you. She leaned in occasionally, her voice low as she teased you or offered sly comments about Morgan’s antics across the table.

As the night wore on, you found yourself relaxing into the team dynamic. Still, every time Elle’s fingers grazed yours while reaching for her drink or her laugh sounded just a little too close, your pulse quickened. There was an unspoken tension lingering between you, one that neither of you seemed eager to break just yet.

It didn’t take long for Garcia to suggest getting up to dance. “Come on, people!” she exclaimed, already tugging JJ out of the booth. “You can’t just sit there all night like statues!”

Morgan chuckled, shaking his head. “Alright, alright, I’m in.” He stood and turned to you with a grin. “What about you, rookie? Got any moves?”

You barely had time to respond before Garcia grabbed your hand and pulled you toward the dance floor. Elle followed close behind, her expression amused but with a glint of something unreadable in her eyes.

Reid waved you all off from the booth, his hand casually resting on the table. “I’ll keep an eye on the drinks,” he said with a small smile, clearly more comfortable staying where he was.

The music pulsed around you as the team found their rhythm on the dance floor. Garcia and Morgan were the first to jump right into the beat, their carefree energy contagious. JJ joined in, laughing as Garcia twirled her dramatically.

You felt a presence close beside you and turned to see Elle, her gaze fixed on you with a teasing smirk. “Don’t tell me you’re shy now,” she said, leaning in so her voice carried over the music.

Her words were a challenge, and you couldn’t help but smile as you began to move to the music. The tension between you and Elle seemed to build with every shared glance, every step closer, until the rest of the room started to blur into the background.

Slowly but surely, the two of you started dancing closer and closer, your movements becoming more synchronized with each passing song. The space between you shrank as you leaned into the rhythm, the music urging you forward, and soon enough, you found yourselves pressed a little too close.

Elle’s gaze never left you, her body responding to yours with ease, a playful energy in the way she moved. You could feel the heat of her proximity now, the soft sway of her hips brushing against you, her breath warm against your ear when she leaned in closer.

You couldn’t deny the pull between you, the way the chemistry seemed to spark every time her body came just a little closer. The dance had shifted from playful teasing to something charged, each beat of the music only bringing you two together more. With every movement, the space between you seemed to disappear until you were practically grinding on each other, the heat between you almost unbearable.

Elle’s lips curled into a knowing smile, and she pressed just a little closer, as though daring you to do something about it. You could feel her pulse through the rhythm, the unspoken challenge hanging in the air.

The heat of the dance floor, the closeness of Elle’s body against yours, it all became too much. You needed a break, a chance to catch your breath and clear your head. Without a word, you excused yourself, making your way through the crowded bar toward the bathroom. Inside, the cool air hit you immediately, a refreshing contrast to the charged atmosphere outside. You leaned against the sink, staring at your reflection, trying to shake the feeling of Elle’s touch still lingering on your skin.

The music felt distant now, muffled behind the bathroom door. You exhaled slowly, willing your heartbeat to slow. But the pull between you and Elle, the tension, was undeniable. You could still feel the weight of her gaze on you, the way she’d moved with you, like there was something between you two neither of you could ignore.

You’d barely stepped back out into the hallway when you saw her—Elle. She was leaning against the wall near the restroom, arms crossed, waiting for you. The intensity in her eyes was unmistakable, a silent understanding passing between you as she pushed herself off the wall, taking a slow step toward you.

“Needed a break too?” you asked, trying to sound casual, but your voice gave you away, betraying the rush of adrenaline that had suddenly surged through your veins.

She shook her head, the corner of her mouth curling into a smirk. “No.” Her voice was low, almost hushed, like she was saying something for just the two of you to hear. “I’ve been waiting for you to figure it out.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, neither of you moved. The world seemed to still around you, leaving just the two of you standing in the hallway.

Her eyes never left yours as she took another step forward, closing the distance between you. “Do you feel it too?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, but the weight of the words hung in the air.

You didn’t hesitate. There was no question in your mind. “Yes,” you breathed out, your voice thick with the desire you’d been trying to ignore.

And that was all it took. Her lips crashed against yours in a kiss so desperate, so raw, it was as if you both had been holding your breath for far too long. The kiss was frantic, hungry—nothing like the teasing moments that had come before. Elle’s hands found your waist, pulling you closer as if she couldn’t get enough of the feel of you against her. Your hands instinctively slid to her neck, tangling in her hair as you kissed her back with equal intensity.

For a moment, the world outside that small hallway didn’t exist. There was only Elle, her taste, the feel of her body pressed against yours. You were lost in it—lost in the heat of the kiss, the shared longing that had built between you over the course of the night.

When Elle finally pulled away, she was breathless, her lips parted as she looked at you with a hunger that made your pulse spike once more. “Let’s get out of here,” she murmured, her voice low and firm, yet tinged with that same unrelenting desire.

Before you could answer, she was already taking your hand in hers, her fingers locking around yours with an urgency that made your heart race. There was no hesitation, no second-guessing. She led you through the bar, past the booths and the flashing lights, her grip on your hand tightening as if she was afraid to let go.

You followed her without question, your own body eager to be wherever she was. You barely registered the bustling noise around you as Elle guided you to the exit, the cool night air hitting your skin as the door swung open.

The city street outside felt different—charged, electric, as if it too could sense what was happening between the two of you. Elle didn’t say a word as she led you down the sidewalk, her steps quick, determined. You kept pace with her, your hand still firmly in hers. You couldn’t remember ever being this in sync with someone, and it was both thrilling and dangerous all at once.

Elle didn’t stop until you reached her place, a small, yet cozy apartment just a few blocks away. As she unlocked the door, she glanced over her shoulder, her gaze fierce, challenging, yet filled with something else—something that made your breath catch in your chest.

“After you,” she said, her tone a teasing invitation.

You stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind you, and just like that, there was no more hesitation.

In a flash, you were back on each other, kissing as though your very lives depended on it. The need to touch, to explore, was overwhelming. Your hands roamed over her body, feeling the curves and the firmness beneath her clothes, desperate to get closer.

Elle's fingers deftly unbuttoned your shirt, the fabric slipping off your shoulders to reveal the softness of your skin. The cool air hit your bare flesh, sending shivers down your spine that only added to the heat burning between you. Your own hands were equally busy, tugging at her blouse, eager to feel her bare against you.

As your clothes fell away, so did the last of your inhibitions. You found yourself pressed against the wall, her mouth leaving a trail of hot kisses down your neck, each one making you gasp and arch into her. Her teeth grazed your collarbone, sending bolts of pleasure through your body, and you couldn't help but moan, the sound echoing through the quiet apartment.

Elle’s hands moved to your breasts, cupping them gently before her thumbs began to trace delicate circles around your nipples. You could feel them tighten in response, sensitive and begging for more. She took her time, her eyes laser focused as she watched the effect she was having on you.

Her mouth found your neck, kissing and nipping gently as her hands grew more insistent. Each touch sent waves of pleasure rippling through you, and you found yourself arching into her, silently begging for her to continue. Her fingers grew bolder, teasing and pinching your nipples until you couldn’t help but moan her name, the sound spilling out into the room.

As if responding to the desperate need in your voice, Elle’s mouth moved lower, her teeth grazing over your collarbone and down the centre of your chest. You could feel the warmth of her breath against your skin as she reached the top of your pants, her deft fingers making quick work of the button and zipper. The fabric parted easily under her touch, revealing the dampness of your panties.

Her eyes locked onto yours, a question in them, and you nodded, unable to speak. She didn’t need any more encouragement. With a smug smile, she dropped to her knees, her hands sliding down your stomach to your hips. The coolness of the floor against her bare legs was a stark contrast to the heat of your skin, and she took a moment to revel in it.

With a quick movement, she tugged your pants and underwear down in one swift motion, the fabric pooling around your ankles. Before you could even catch your breath, her mouth was on you, her tongue sliding against your clit with a hunger that left you gasping.

Her mouth felt like heaven against your pussy, the softness and warmth of her slick tongue making you want more. Without thinking, you widened your stance, pushing your hips down onto her mouth. The sensation was exquisite, and you couldn’t help but let out a low moan.

Elle took her time, exploring every inch of your folds with a hunger that was almost painful in its intensity. She lapped at you, savouring your taste, her tongue flicking and swirling with a skill that had you seeing stars. You could feel the heat building deep within you, a pressure that grew with every stroke of her tongue.

Her grip on your hips tightened as she found your clit, sucking it into her mouth with a groan that vibrated against your sensitive flesh. You threw your head back, your fingers tangling in her hair as you rode the wave of pleasure she was giving you. Her mouth was relentless, her tongue never still, working in a pattern that was driving you closer and closer to the edge.

You could feel your orgasm building, a tight coil in your lower belly that grew tighter with each flick of her tongue. Your thighs trembled, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you held on, trying to keep yourself together.

But it was no use. With one final, firm suck, you came apart on her mouth, your body convulsing as waves of pleasure washed over you. She didn’t stop, instead swirling her tongue and sucking harder, drawing every ounce of satisfaction from your trembling form. You moaned, the sound echoing through the room, raw and unfiltered.

As the orgasm subsided, your legs gave out beneath you, no longer able to hold your weight. Without missing a beat, she stood, wrapping her arms around your waist to keep you upright. You leaned into her, your breathing still ragged and uneven. She smirked, the taste of you still on her lips.

“You good?” she asked, her voice a low purr as she pulled away just enough to meet your eyes. The question was a tease, her knowing smile saying she already had her answer. You nodded, unable to form words as the aftershocks of pleasure still rippled through your body.

With a gentle nudge, she encouraged you to step out of the puddle of fabric around your ankles. Your legs felt like jelly, but the desire to be fully naked with her was too strong to ignore. You took a deep, steadying breath and reached for the rest of your clothing, peeling it off with trembling hands.

Elle’s eyes never left you, taking in every inch of your exposed flesh. The way she looked at you made you feel powerful, sexy, and incredibly vulnerable. You knew this was just the beginning of something explosive between the two of you.

With a gentle tug, she took your hand and led you through the dimly lit apartment, her confidence guiding you toward her bedroom. The anticipation grew with every step, your heart racing in your chest as the room came into view.

Elle stepped back, giving you a sultry look as she began to strip out of her clothes. Her movements were deliberate, each article of clothing peeled away to reveal more of the taut muscles and soft curves beneath. Her blouse fluttered to the floor, followed by the pants that had hugged her hips so tantalizingly all day. The lacy bra and matching underwear came off next, revealing her breasts and the neat triangle of hair above her sex.

You were mesmerized by the sight of her, your eyes drinking in every detail as if committing them to memory. Her skin was a warm caramel, glowing in the soft light of the room. Her breasts were full and firm, the dark nipples already erect with desire. The way she moved was like watching a panther stalk its prey—graceful and powerful, and you knew she was just as dangerous.

You strode forward, unable to resist the magnetic pull between you. Your hands found her hips, pulling her against you as your mouth claimed hers once again. The kiss was deep, needy, and full of promise. Her body was warm and soft against yours, the feel of her skin setting your body alight.

Your hands roamed over her body, exploring the curves and valleys that had been hidden beneath her clothes all day. You felt the muscles in her back tense and release as you traced your fingertips along her spine. Her ass was firm and round in your palms, and you gave it a squeeze, eliciting a low moan from her lips.

Elle's hands were equally busy, running over your naked body as if she couldn’t decide where to touch next. Her thumbs brushed over your sensitive nipples, sending jolts of pleasure through you. You couldn't get enough of her, the need to feel all of her was like an itch that had to be scratched.

With a gentle push, you guided her backward, her legs buckling as she fell onto the bed. She watched you with hooded eyes, a smouldering look that told you she was just as eager as you were. You didn’t waste a second, getting down on your knees to continue exploring her body with your mouth.

Your tongue traced a path down her stomach, leaving a trail of kisses until you reached the apex of her thighs. You could feel the heat radiating from her, and your own desire was so intense it was almost painful. You spread her legs wider, the scent of her arousal filling the air.

Elle's eyes were dark with lust as she watched you, her breath coming in short, eager gasps. You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the inside of her thigh before moving to her folds. She was already wet for you, her arousal coating your lips as you tasted her. The flavour was intoxicating, making you want more, and you didn’t hesitate to dive in.

You licked and kissed her clit, feeling it swell beneath your ministrations. The taste of her was unlike anything you'd ever experienced—sweet and salty, a perfect blend that had you salivating for more. Your tongue delved deeper, exploring the warm, wet heat of her pussy. You could feel her tension building, her legs trembling against your shoulders as you worked her body into a frenzy.

Elle’s hands tangled in your hair, guiding you, urging you onward as she grew more and more lost in the pleasure. You felt her thighs tighten around your head, her hips rising off the bed as she met your every touch with an eager thrust. Each stroke of your tongue, every gentle nip of your teeth, was met with a whimper or a gasp that only spurred you on.

You added your fingers to the mix, sliding them into her slick heat with ease. She was so wet, so ready for you, and the feel of her inner walls tightening around you was almost too much to handle. You began to pump in and out, setting a steady rhythm that had her back arching off the bed. Her legs wrapped around your neck, holding you in place as she grew more and more desperate for release.

You could feel the tension in her body, the way her muscles tensed, how her body shook. You knew she was close, so close, and the thought of making her come undone was driving you wild.

Your tongue swirled around her clit, feeling the slickness of her arousal as you worked her closer to the edge. Her grip on your hair tightened, and you took it as a sign to increase the pressure. You added another finger to the mix, curling it upward to hit that sweet spot.

Her hips jolted up, and she moaned out, telling you just how good it felt. The sound was like a symphony in your ears, driving you to push her even closer to the brink. You could feel her muscles tensing, her body begging for release, and it was the most thrilling thing you'd ever experienced.

Elle's thighs tightened around your head as you took her clit into your mouth, sucking hard. At the same time, your fingers curled inside her, pressing firmly against her g-spot. The combination of sensations had her writhing beneath you. You felt her pulse race, her breath quicken, and you knew you had her just where you wanted her.

"Cum for me," you murmured against her wetness, the words muffled but clear in their intent. Her body responded to the command, her hips bucking as you maintained the steady rhythm of your mouth and hand. You could feel her getting closer, the tension coiling tighter and tighter within her.

With a final, desperate whine, she shattered. Her body convulsed under you, her muscles contracting around your fingers as she rode the wave of her orgasm. You kept up your relentless pace, drawing out every last spasm of pleasure until she went slack against the bed, her legs releasing you.

With a satisfied smile, you pulled away, licking your lips clean of her juices. She was a beautiful mess, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath. The sight of her like that, so utterly satisfied, was enough to make your own desire spike even higher.

Elle wasted no time recovering. She was off the bed in a flash, moving with an animalistic grace that was impossible to ignore. Her eyes were dark with lust as she strode to her dresser.

You watched, panting, as she pulled out a black harness and a duel ended dildo. The sight of her preparing for the next act was incredibly erotic, a silent promise of what was to come.

"I want you bent over, begging for it," she stated, her voice dark and authoritative sending shivers down your spine. She stepped closer, her eyes never leaving yours as she fastened the harness around her hips, adjusting the strap until the dildo pointed straight at you.

"Yes, ma'am," you replied, a thrill of excitement coursing through your body as you positioned yourself on the bed, your hands gripping the edge of the mattress. The anticipation was almost unbearable, your body already aching for the feeling of being filled by her.

Elle approached, her movements deliberate and predatory. She placed herself behind you, the tip of the dildo lightly grazing your folds. You could feel the coolness of the silicone against your sensitive skin. She took a moment to appreciate the view, her hands caressing your ass before one finger dipped down to trace the line of your pussy.

"Please, fuck me, Elle," you begged, the words a desperate plea that hung in the air. The anticipation was a sweet torment, your body quivering with need.

Her eyes gleamed with satisfaction as she lined up the dildo with your soaking wet pussy, the tip pressing against your entrance with the promise of what was to come. You felt her hand come down in a gentle but firm grip on your hip, holding you steady as she began to push.

The first inch slid in easily, your body welcoming the intrusion with a needy moan. She went slow, letting you adjust to the feeling of fullness. The each inch brought a deeper moan from your throat, the pressure building. And when she was fully inside you, the dildo stretching you to the brink, you couldn’t hold back the cry that spilled from your lips.

Without warning, she set a brutal pace, her hips slamming into your ass. You felt the force of every thrust, the way she filled you completely, claiming you in a way no one ever had. Your eyes squeezed shut, and your mouth fell open as you tried to process the intensity of the sensation. It was almost too much—almost painful—but you didn’t want it to stop.

You could feel your orgasm building again, a wildfire that threatened to consume you. You held onto the bed for dear life, your knuckles white with the effort of keeping upright. Each time she hit that spot inside you, a bolt of lightning shot through your core, making your toes curl and your vision swim.

"Elle, fuck, it feels so good," you moaned out, the words a desperate mantra that matched the rhythm of her hips. She took your cue, her strokes growing more demanding, more powerful. You felt yourself being pushed closer and closer to the edge with every thrust.

Your nipples were on fire, the rough fabric of the sheets below you providing an unexpected source of pleasure. Each time she drove into you, your breasts would brush against the material, sending sparks of sensation shooting straight to your clit. The dual stimulation was almost unbearable, and you found yourself panting and gasping for air, your body moving of its own accord to meet her every push.

Elle noticed the change in your response and took it as an invitation to go harder. Her grip on your hips tightened, her thrusts becoming more forceful, more demanding. You pushed back into her, greedy for more, your body begging for the release she was building within you.

And with each stroke, Elle was getting her own stimulation from the other end of the dildo. The tip was perfectly positioned against her g-spot, sending waves of pleasure through her with every thrust. It was a delicious cycle, each of you feeding off the other's passion.

Her hand snaked around your body, reaching down to stroke your clit with a precision that spoke of experience and desire. The sensation was overwhelming—each flick of her thumb was like a spark that set off fireworks within you. You could feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, your body tightening with every touch.

"I'm going to cum," she warned, her voice a guttural moan. Her strokes grew erratic, her orgasm taking her over without warning. You felt her body tense, her grip on your hips tightening almost painfully. And then she was coming, her pussy spasming around the dildo.

You could feel her juices coating the toy, making the movements slicker, more intense. She didn’t stop, instead pushing through the peak of her orgasm to keep fucking you, her hips moving with a frenzied need that was both thrilling and a little frightening.

Her strokes grew more erratic, each one hitting that spot inside you that had you teetering on the edge. You could feel your own climax approaching, the tension in your body growing tighter with every thrust.

And then it hit you, like a wave crashing over the shore. Your orgasm washed over you, stealing your breath and making your vision swim. Your legs trembled, and you could feel your juices running down the inside of your thighs, dripping onto the floor beneath you.

Elle didn't let up, riding you through the aftershocks of your climax, her own orgasm still pulsing through her. You moaned, the sound a mix of pleasure and overstimulation, and fell forward onto the bed limply, your body unable to support your weight anymore.

With a satisfied groan, she slipped out of you with a wet sound, the dildo leaving you feeling emptier than you had ever felt before. It was a stark contrast to the fullness and heat that had consumed you just moments ago. You felt a little dizzy, your body still reeling from the intense pleasure she had just given you.

Elle didn’t miss a beat, moving with the grace of a dancer as she stepped out of the harness and walked towards the bathroom. Her bare feet made no noise on the hardwood floor, the only sound in the room the heavy thud of your heart in your chest as you tried to catch your breath.

Moments later, she was back with a bottle of water, the condensation beading on the plastic. She placed it on the nightstand before coming closer to you. You were still sprawled out on the bed, your limbs feeling like jelly and your chest heaving. The smell of sex was in the air, a heady scent that seemed to cling to every surface.

With the tender care of a lover, she helped you to sit up, arranging the pillows behind you. Her touch was gentle but firm, different from the fiery passion moments before. The water bottle was placed within your reach, a silent offer to quench your thirst after the intense experience. You took a grateful sip, the cool liquid soothing your parched throat as you watched her move with an efficiency that spoke of her experience in these matters.

Elle disappeared into the bathroom once again, returning with a damp cloth. She knelt beside the bed, her gaze soft as she took the cloth to your forehead, gently wiping away the beads of sweat that had formed there. The coolness was a welcome reprieve from the heat that still lingered in your skin.

Her eyes then drifted downward, her gaze lingering on the glistening evidence of your shared pleasure between your legs. You watched as she took the cloth and trailed it down your body, her movements tender yet purposeful. As it passed over your sensitive folds, you shivered, the slight touch sending aftershocks of pleasure through your core.

"Sorry," she quietly murmured. You weren't sure if she was apologizing for the intensity of the moment or the mess she'd made of you, but the look in her eyes told you she felt anything but regret.

"It's okay," you managed to croak out. The aftermath of such intense pleasure had rendered your vocal cords almost useless. "Come lie with me."

Elle's eyes lit up with something that could only be described as pure affection as she took your hand in hers, giving it a gentle squeeze. She tossed the cloth aside and climbed onto the bed with you, her naked body sliding against yours with the same grace she'd shown earlier. You felt a jolt of arousal at the contact, despite the intensity of what had just transpired. It was as if your body hadn’t had enough of her yet.

The room was dark, save for the soft glow of city lights filtering through the blinds, casting shadows on the walls. You lay there beside Elle, both of you still catching your breath, the air between you thick with the weight of what had just happened. The tension that had built between you all night had finally unraveled, but now that it was gone, you were left with a strange sense of stillness.

Elle’s body was warm beside yours, the steady rise and fall of her chest calming, but you couldn’t shake the nagging question that lingered in your mind: Where do we go from here?

You turned slightly on your side, propping yourself up on one elbow to look at her. She was on her back, staring at the ceiling, her hair splayed out across the pillow, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence was comfortable, but it was heavy with unspoken thoughts.

Elle’s fingers brushed against yours, a gentle touch, as if she was still trying to figure out what had just happened between you both. Her voice was soft, almost like she didn’t want to break the quiet. “You okay?” she asked, her eyes meeting yours, her expression unreadable.

You nodded slowly, but inside, your mind was racing. You hadn’t expected things to go this far, this quickly, but now that they had, you found yourself wondering if it had been a mistake—or something more. Was this just a one-time thing, a spark that had fizzled out as quickly as it ignited? Or was there something real between you?

“I’m good,” you replied, but the uncertainty still lingered in your chest. “Just… thinking.”

Elle turned her head to face you, her lips curving into a soft, almost knowing smile. “I get it.” Her hand moved to rest on your hip, her fingers lightly tracing circles on your skin. It was soothing, but there was an intensity in her touch that matched the storm swirling inside you. “I didn’t expect tonight to turn out like this either. But… I’m not sorry.”

The words came out casually, but there was a deeper meaning there, something more serious than the playful, flirtatious tone she often used. You could see it in her eyes—the way she looked at you, not with the usual teasing smile, but with something more raw.

You didn’t know what to say. You weren’t sure what you wanted yet, but there was no denying the connection between you. It was undeniable, the way you fit together, the way your chemistry sparked and thrived when you were close.

Elle seemed to sense the hesitation in your silence. She shifted, leaning up on one elbow to mirror your position. “Hey,” she murmured, her gaze softening as she brushed a strand of hair out of your face. “No pressure, okay? We don’t have to figure it all out right now.”

Her words were a balm to your nerves, easing the tension in your chest, but the question still lingered. What now?

The bed felt impossibly small, and you both seemed to gravitate closer, your faces just inches apart, the closeness making everything else feel distant. “So… what do we do?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Elle’s smile returned, small and teasing, as she reached forward to tuck a stray piece of your hair behind your ear. “We take it slow,” she said, her lips curling into a grin. “No need to rush anything. Just… see where it goes.”

You couldn’t help but smile back, feeling the tension between you ease even more. Maybe you didn’t have to have all the answers right now. Maybe taking it slow, letting things unfold naturally, was the best way forward.

She leaned in just enough to press a kiss to your forehead, a soft, lingering gesture that spoke volumes without saying a word. "We'll figure it out," she whispered against your skin, her warmth seeping into you, grounding you in the moment.

And for the first time that night, you felt like you could breathe again

#criminal minds #masterlist #elle greenaway smut #elle greenaway x reader #elle greenaway #lola glaudini #ask #request #bau reader #ask box

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fleckcmscott · 1 year ago

Text

Something Old, Everything New

Summary: After Arthur has a run in with the past, Y/N provides the shelter she’s always hoped to.

Words: 4,227

Warnings: Swearing, Smut

A/N: @tally-kiza made the request that prompted this story. Cal, I hope it's what you're looking for! 😂 Heartfelt thanks to @sweet-nothings04 for beta-ing, helping with the summary, and her neverending kindness and support. 💜

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

The shopping list was broken into three sections, each separated by a thick, felt-tip line. Ingredients for a recipe Y/N was keeping secret. Refills of temazepam and fluoxetine. And supplies for light repairs he was determined to finish before the weekend was out.

Through poverty and an absent landlord, Arthur had become something of a handyman as a teen. He'd figured out how to snake gooey clumps of hair from the shower drain, unstick stuck drawers with a spritz of WD-40, patch the hole in the wall left by his fist. A job done himself was a dollar saved, a buck to spend on cigarettes or butterscotch candies, depending on how his week went.

Tapping each item on the paper, he dodged a pallet of tightly stacked potting soil and ambled down the fourth aisle of Garber's Value Hardware and Housewares, his first stop and a staple that'd served Burnley since 1926. Paint thinner stains dotted the creaky wooden floor, the shop's knob and tube wiring was a decade out of code, and the fumes of last year's grease saturated the air.

The red bins of O-rings, washers, and valve seals were poorly sorted. He sifted through grimy plastic baggies, searching for a standard size set. The kitchen faucet had been leaking for weeks, and the drops grew ever fatter and faster. He decided on a variety pack, then aimed for the door section for hinge lubricant, as vegetable oil no longer quieted the bedroom door's squeaks and squawks.

He was midway through the yellow bottle's directions when an old nickname smacked him in the back of the head.

"Hey, Fleck the Speck!"

The jovial call made Arthur's joints as stuck as an old drawer.

"Hell, it's been what, twenty years?" Richard continued, dark blue mechanic's overalls swishing as he advanced on Arthur. The guy thrust a friendly hand his way. "You just kinda fell off the face of the earth. How've you been?"

Arthur glared at that hand.

Richard McMahon was an old classmate, from Cowther's Middle School straight through sophomore year at Gotham High. Being held back two years hadn't stopped him from reaching the level of cool to go by Rick, not Dick.

And he was one of the many people Arthur could have gone to his grave without seeing.

Fleck the Speck had caught on amongst Rick's group of rowdies like too much Brylcreem. Dingy hair and ratty, ill-fitting clothes had made Arthur a target to rival a dart board. Rick's hair had been just as greasy, his t-shirt couldn't keep up with his stocky teenage body. But youth hierarchy demanded someone be shit on, and via his natural awkwardness, Arthur attracted all the flies.

But that was then, and this was now, and if Arthur interpreted Rick-not-Dick's tone correctly, he saw him as a regular guy.

"I'm good," Arthur said, returning the shake. The man grabbed him in a sweltering grip. "I- I had a lot going on. With my mother and everything."

"Good, good. You working now?"

"Yes. I'm a comedian."

"No shit! You still doing that laugh?"

That Rick would bring up Arthur's condition wasn't a shock. It'd been a source of endless entertainment for his peers. He took half a step back. "Doing that laugh?"

"Yeah! It was a riot, really threw the teachers off, too. Got any kids?"

Rapid fire questions with teasing cloaked as compliments dizzied Arthur, like he was a returning guest on the Murray show under the lights and the heat. "I'm married."

"Me, too. You remember Shelly Petters?"

Shelly Peters had sat to Arthur's left in US History, a course he'd struggled with like all the rest. Getting dates confused was too easy, and it was far too hard to concentrate while awaiting next month's allotment of government peanut butter and wondering if Penny had left on the oven again.

In her pink miniskirt and flowing, flaxen locks, Shelly had been a beauty fit for the cover of TV Guide. During the mid-term, he'd frowned at the blue test booklet, the words swimming in front of him. Frustration channeled its way to his knee, bouncing it against the bottom of the desk. Bang. Bang. Bang. The force of his grip snapped his pencil in two. The pointed half fell and rolled across the floor, right into Mr. Galloway's shoes.

As if helping Arthur was the most natural thing in the world, Shelly had offered her spare. He'd done his best not to chew on it and fallen in love.

But his heart was as poorly schooled as his mind. As sweet as that recollection was, it was interlinked with the truth of how rare kindness had been.

He'd untangled his curls, slicked them back with tap water. Tucked his sweater into his trousers, rolled up the cuffs to hide the holes. When he'd caught up to her by her locker, Rick had stuck one heavy foot between them.

"What'd you do to your hair?" The rowdies formed a half circle, a pack of wolves, and the leader addressed his eager audience. "You gonna put on a show for us, Fleck the Speck? How about telling one of them jokes of yours? Knockknockknockknockknock!"

"Richard, stop it," Shelly hissed.

Laughter forced a cough from Arthur, his fingers clawing his trousers in an attempt to get control over his breathing. The tightening of his throat turned tears into a nakedness that choked. He'd fled to the boy's bathroom on the third floor. Locked himself in the last stall. Wiped his snot with cheap toilet paper and sleeves. What a fool he was for trying to raise himself above his station. The station shared by them all.

A blink returned Arthur to the present. The raw quality of his voice couldn't be restrained. "Shelly married you?"

"Right out of high school," Rick said. "Our daughter graduated this year. It was fun, seeing the old gym again. It hasn't changed one iota." His thumb gestured at Arthur's baggy cardigan, a hitchhiking motion. "Looks like you haven't changed much, either."

Nostalgia coated the comment, not meanness. But the same sense of worthlessness engulfed Arthur, joined by a rising fury that this man - this- this asshole - maintained the power to tear him down. To leave him the same boy who'd fled to the bathroom, when he'd tried to be more than allowed.

Crumpling his shopping list, Arthur shoved his first in his pocket before he could shove it in Dick-not-Rick's nose. Blunt nails dug his palms. "I can't believe she'd marry someone like you."

Offense deformed the man's face. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Don't you remember? All you did was make fun of me."

"Hey, everyone had a nickname back then. It was all a joke."

"Yeah, well. Comedy is subjective, Dick, and I never thought it was funny."

"We were kids. Kids do stupid shit." A hint of reticence twitched Dick's mouth. Lifting his chin, he straightened his features into calm. "I'll say hi to Shelly for you. Let her know you're doing all right. She'll be glad to hear it."

Then came the words that hit Arthur like a hammer.

"You really haven't changed at all."

~~~~~

Y/N brushed stray strands from her hair, the usual stragglers after a fresh cut. Wilma, the hairdresser she'd been seeing for three years, had called out sick, so she'd met a new beauty school graduate named Nancy. Though shy about feathering, the girl was eager to blunt cut. Y/N had halted her with a raised hand just as she was about to give her bangs.

Crossing the living room, Y/N paused long enough to turn on the TV, where a rerun of the Honeymoon Game would start at five. Arthur and she had become experts at guessing each other's answers and often ended those nights with more than a kiss. Being newlyweds themselves, it was the perfect watch.

And what a blissful eight months it'd been.

All on her own, she'd made the leap to move to Gotham at an age when most people had a spouse, a house, and two cars in a garage. Self-sufficiency had been her middle name for over a decade. She hadn't planned on getting remarried, instead relishing in finally having her own path.

But fate had introduced her to the kindest, most wonderful man she'd ever met, and the whole world had shifted.

It was a delight to have a helper, a partner. A person she could come home to and who could come home to her, who brightened her day with love and laughter. Who made the smallest domesticities matter, because she could share them. And being married to Arthur was fun.

She'd jotted a shopping list this morning, starting with ingredients for skillet enchiladas, a recipe he'd played at trying to peek. Then he'd perched on the kitchen counter and named all the hardware he needed, counting on his fingers as he went. There was something undeniably alluring about it. A masculine confidence that tickled her insides, a suaveness that came naturally when he let go enough to let it.

Alone, she would have waited at the bottom of the super's list for small fixes. She was good at keeping house, but repairs were outside of her league, Class A when her skill set was Class C. Now, sitting at the dinette table with a cup of tea and the Gotham Times, she couldn't stop picturing Arthur holding a wrench. The flex of his bicep as he twisted it, his broad stance as he bent over the sink.

Heat burned her cheeks, a good dose of fluster. Squeezing her thighs together, she turned the page.

Just as she'd read a statement from Gotham's Office of Management and Budget protesting any attempt to expand aid for the unemployed, the front door unlocked. She pushed the paper aside, tightened the bow of her pencil skirt. "There you are, Mr. Fleck," she said, rising to help with the shopping bags. "Did you find everything?"

A single sack hung from Arthur's twitchy knuckles. Brown paper. Wrinkled. The size of a lunch bag.

Head tilted to one side, she tested its light weight with two lifting motions. "Was Ed's closed?"

"No."

She looked inside. Hardware jumbled at the bottom, along with a distinct lack of orange, plastic bottles. "What about your medication?"

"Don't worry about it."

He shoved his tan jacket on the hook next to hers. Fingers smoothed his hair, turning into claws, a pressure that blanched his temples. Warmth fled her face, replaced by a concerned chill, for it was a move she recognized. A jarring and painful echo of tough times.

Without the usual peck, the usual caress, the usual smile, he walked past her to the living room. Grabbed the remote from the coffee table and flicked off the TV.

One foot forward before she held back. "Arthur, what's wrong?"

No answer, no turn towards her. No indication he'd heard her inquiry. He jerked the chair from his desk and dropped into it. Yanked open the top left drawer and smacked his journal to the surface.

Y/N's breath caught in her breast. When Arthur was upset, a pattern came into play: he wanted space, and she respected him by giving it. A behavior she attributed to his years of isolation and not a small amount of fear. Yes, she'd gotten used to it. But that didn't make it any less irksome, any less hard on her heart. Without the whole story of what'd happened, she found herself at a loss as to how to help. A fog had rolled in and she was a dinghy, drifting through choppy waters with a broken masthead.

She forced herself to browse the cupboards, search for what to piece together for a comforting meal. A can of peas sat on the second shelf. There was half a box of macaroni, but they'd used the last jar of tomato sauce on Monday. In the freezer, one Salisbury steak Swanson stood its ground, next to bags of chicken breasts and sweet corn. It was all about as comforting as cold chowder.

In the doorway by the dinette table, she observed him anew. He hunched over his desk, muttering to himself. He'd shed his cardigan and shirt, his trousers, even his worn white socks. They lay strewn on the other side of the room divider to his right. Out of sight but, judging from his posture, far too firmly in mind.

She approached with quiet, measured steps. Stopped six inches behind him. His every sinew screamed dissent. Ballpoint pen scratched across paper. She pushed herself to her tiptoes to peer over his shoulder. Though his forearm covered two-thirds of his journal, enough of the slanted script cried out to her.

"...bad guys alwaze win at life. 35 years here and I got one prize!!!!! What??? How fucking long can peeple like Dick make me feel awful? I don't want anything to hurt me any more. They never think what it's like to be someone like me. This city is too crowded and full of Dicks. If I..."

Testing the waters of what Arthur was willing to receive, she laid her hands on the nape of his neck. It was cement under her palms. Thumbs worked lines up and down on both sides, beneath brown curls that brushed knuckles. After a minute, after he hadn't pushed her away, she said, "You don't have to shut me out."

His scrawling stopped.

Lines became circles as she moved outwards. The pads of her fingers traced his clavicle, massaged the bony knobs of his shoulders. But his muscles grew tauter, and she realized the swirling strokes stung instead of soothed. Reluctance ached her sternum. She swallowed against the worry he hated.

He'd been in worse shape before and he'd come to her. He would come to her again soon.

In the meantime, she'd meet him where he was. Care for him the best way she knew how. "I'll get the groceries and stop by Groves." Her lips brushed the shell of his ear. "And be home before you have a chance to miss me." One final squeeze before she turned to leave.

Quick as a whip, his hand locked around her wrist.

Relief flooded her frame. A welcome, wished for reaction to the man she loved. The man she was devoted to, the man she adored opening up enough to need her. She went to his side, assuming he wanted to embrace her, press his face to her stomach. Let go with her, into her. But his posture remained rigid, a ramrod of resentment. His whole body appeared to be filled with waiting - but for what?

He traced the veins on her forearm, mapped a path to her palm. Her fingers curled around his. Low and rumbling, he pierced the silence. "Say you want me." A rasp equal parts desperation and demand. "Tell me." When his gaze darted to hers, the smoldering in his stare said he wanted to possess her.

She'd let him.

One sideways step to stand before him. Her rear rested on the lip of his desk.

"I want you," she said. She placed his palm on her breast, guided his thumb beneath the placket of her blouse. Popped the buttons with a flick of her fingers. "Put your hands on me."

A harsh inhale as he shot upwards, grabbed her chin with greedy hands, and shoved his mouth to hers. Her bottom lip caught on his teeth. He groaned and lapped the sting away. In one smooth motion, he shoved her skirt to her waist and lifted her onto the desk. The pages of his journal crumpled under her ass.

He grasped her collar, tugged crepe to her elbows. She snaked between their torsos to open the front of her bra. Her breasts spilled onto him and he groaned. Smothered her mouth with a savage intensity.

His clothed erection bumped her vulva, flint striking stone. Aching, her nipples tightened against his chest, his hair tickling, teasing. Thumbs hooked around the lace trim of her panties. He shoved them over her hips, down her thighs, past her knees. When the cotton reached her toes, she kicked them off. They landed on the console stereo, hung indelicately from the corner.

Dragging her ass to the edge of the desk, Arthur pulled himself out of his briefs. She fell backwards onto her elbows, knocked over their framed photograph, taken on a night to remember. It fell to the wooden surface with a slap. He cupped her labia, slipped a pointer between her lips. Long enough to test her readiness, to test her willingness.

The desk lamp's gentle light played across his ribs, his toned abdomen, his thighs. Breath shallow and ragged, she eyed the tip of his cock. Purplish red and shiny with slick. Stare fixed on her center, he took it in his palm. She gulped. Her knees fell further apart as she canted upward, her damp folds brushing his knuckles. He pumped once. Twice.

And then he breached her.

A rough cry flew from her throat. One leg curled about him, her heel at the small of his back, her other foot braced on the seat of his chair.

Bent over her now, he propped himself on one hand. Cupped her neck and sheathed his shaft completely. He crushed her to him for a fierce, firm kiss. The tip of his tongue pressed for entry. But before she could grant it, he moved to nuzzle her temple, her jaw.

Steady and sharp, his thrusts impaled her with the taste of something primal. The hot glide of flesh on flesh. His thighs rattled the pencil drawer. He grunted. Fucked faster, harder. The desk threatened to bang the wall.

His sweaty face fell to the crook of her shoulder and her eyes fell shut. The sensation of him inside her was powerful, overwhelming. A stretch that scorched in every way she wanted, forever and always.

This felt different, though. In the past, she'd invited him to take comfort in her body. To let their coming together be a haven, their union be a defiance against the tragedies life had dealt him. Besides the night she'd confessed she loved him, he hadn't taken her in that way. Arthur doing so now confirmed the strength of their connection. How much he trusted her, how much he honored her, as equally as she trusted and honored him.

Her heart longed to comfort him, too. To heal whatever had happened, to make the present and future brighter than the past. She sealed that vow with a kiss to his cheek.

His pelvis jerked unevenly, stammering between her thighs. She clutched his shoulder, gripped his forearm. A ragged moan tumbled past his lips, onto her skin. Her calves rose to squeeze him tight, tighter. Fingertips digging her hip, he stiffened, his hot essence splashing her walls. Gasps mingled, humid and heated. His abdomen quivered against hers.

Once he'd softened and steadied his breath, he slipped out of her. Arming his forehead, he stumbled to land in the chair.

Slowly, she clambered down, one foot meeting the carpet, then the other. She left her skirt at her waist but peeled off her blouse. Wiped their mess from the desk and tossed it on the pile of his clothes. She smoothed the pages of his journal, shut its leather cover. Smiling, she picked up their picture. Straightened the easel and put it in its place.

When she turned towards Arthur, he appeared to still be in a state, but one not altogether unpleasant. Gaze dazed and out of focus, dark brows lifted and lines of his face relaxed. And was that blush the result of his brazenness or his orgasm?

"Feeling better?" she asked, slinging an arm about him as she sat sideways on his lap.

"Uh huh."

She gave a throaty little laugh. "Good."

Sticky with perspiration, his forehead met her cheek. Her nails ran over his scalp, caught in damp, knotted curls. He heaved a long sigh, which goosepimpled her skin. Quiet blanketed them, tranquil and lovely, sunlight that sliced through the earlier fog.

But clouds did remain, questions she couldn't let go. Who was Dick? And what had he done to her husband, both then and now?

Rumbling disturbed the peace, a loud squeal like a balloon. Chuckling, Arthur splayed his fingers on her stomach. "Sorry about the groceries."

"Don't be." She covered his hand with hers. "I have an idea."

~~~~~

At a nearby diner, in a booth by the kitchen, over a blue-plate special of baked beans and hot dogs, Arthur told Y/N about it. All of it. The bullying, the cruelty of laughter, the taunting he hadn't always understood but a tone as familiar as not fitting anywhere. How reading had been hard and therefore it'd been hard to learn, even when he'd had the will. ("No one else had any problems. I felt stupid all the time.") That the awfulness he'd been destined to encounter every day made it a ten round fight to get off the couch, get washed up, and get to school.

And that he didn't get - would never get - how a guy as mean as Dick McMahon could wind up with the nicest girl in class.

Arthur scraped his spoon across the plate to snag the last bite of beans. "I dunno. I didn't want to be upset. That happened when we were kids."

"It's normal to be upset by assholes," Y/N countered. "What happened wasn't okay. Twenty years doesn't change that."

"But shouldn't it be easier by now? He said I hadn't changed but I have." Arthur wanted to believe that. He had to believe that.

"There're people I don't ever want to see again, no matter how much they've changed. Why do you think I moved to Gotham?"

The corner of his mouth quirked. "You're right, I just-" A slight shake of his head as he broke off. Dick had already stolen enough of today. Arthur wasn't about to allow him the rest. He retrieved a cigarette from his pocket and lit up. "I don't want to talk about it anymore. I'll be fine. I just want to enjoy being with you."

"You're always welcome." She caught the waitress's attention with a raised hand and ordered a decaf and slice of Pineapple Dream Pie. "We can get groceries tomorrow. Your refills, too. No, wait. Groves is closed Sundays."

"I have enough until Wednesday. Don't you have an appointment that morn-?"

"Schcuze me, ma'am?"

At the end of their table stood a man, clad in an orange and white Gotham Knights basketball jersey. A fiery K was emblazoned on his cheek. Arthur wondered where the rest of the letters had fled to.

The squire teetered on drunken knees. "Can I have your catchsup?" he asked, gesturing towards the glass bottle at the other end of the booth. Arthur handed it over. The man offered a goofy grin and shuffled away.

When he'd rounded the counter, Y/N smirked. "I hope he ordered a pot of coffee. Anyway, yes, Dr. Shapiro's at ten. Just a routine visit and he'll check my IUD. I got it after I moved, so it should have a few years left in it."

Ready to tease, Arthur wrinkled his nose. "But why? When we met, you said you weren't looking."

"Well, I wanted to be prepared. And it's a good thing, too, because that changed when you came along."

Chuckling, he rubbed the nape of his neck. A very good thing, indeed.

She poured the last of the creamer in her coffee, gave it a slow stir. She put the spoon on the saucer and lifted the beige mug. For a moment, her eyes had a faraway look. Her lashes fluttered it away. "Do you ever feel like you missed out, having only been with me?"

A flinch shot through him. "No. Why would you think that?"

"It's silly, I know. It's just that I was married before. I dated. You didn't have all that. And I'm older than you." The sheepish tuck of hair behind her ear. "I just wonder sometimes, that's all."

The cash register opened and shut. Order Up! bellowed from the kitchen. The shop bell ting ting tinged.

Arthur rested his cigarette in the table ashtray. Slid out of the booth and slid onto the bench seat beside her. "I'm comfortable with you and you care about me. I care about you, too."

A bright blush as she drank. Contentment washed over him, a happiness he hadn't known he could have before being with her. In this diner, in this city, in this life. A life he couldn't have dreamed of in that high school bathroom stall, snotting all over himself and asking why don't I fit, why don't I fit, why don't I fit?

"You know what's changed?" he started, folding her into his side. "I'm not alone anymore. Instead of getting angry, I should've bragged about that."

Beaming, she angled to face him. "You'll have plenty of chances."

She brought the mug to his mouth. Though he disliked milk in his java and one sugar wasn't enough, he stole a quick sip. Then he kissed her, sipping from her lips to wash the bitter away.

~~~~~

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve @ithinkimaperson @sweet-nothings04 @stephieraptorr @rommies @fallenstarsabyss @gruffle1 @another-day-in-chuckletown @hhandley80 @jokerownsmysoul @rafaelbottom @ralugraphics @iartsometimes @fleckficgirl

#arthur fleck #arthur fleck fanfic #arthur fleck smut #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck x ofc #joker 2019 #arthur fleck x female reader #watchwhathappens

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silas-222 · 7 months ago

Text

Juno 🤰(everyone is aged up to 21+)

Mina held her phone high, dressed in a black, glittery slip dress with a pair of high heels and stockings. A big fur jacket over her arms due to the slightly cold Japan weather, “ootd for the Y/N CONCERT!” She squealed and showed off her outfit, pointing out each article of clothing and her chunky jewelry. She turned her phone to Kirishima to show off his outfit.

“Okay so my outfit is a jersey, longsleeve, jeans and my jordans.” Kirishima wore a random American football team jersey, a white long sleeve underneath, light blue jeans and black and gray Nike jordans. He had a couple necklaces stacked ontop of each other along with different bracelets on each wrists. “Oo okayy! I see you kiri.”

She flipped her phone to Denki to show off his outfit, “okay okay, so, I got,” he pointed at his jacket, “a brown velvet jacket, white button up, black shirt underneath.” He showed off the clothing with poses inbetween, “some nicer pants and my doc martins.” He smiled and nodded. “OH! And my chain from Miss Mina herself.” He showed off the gold chain.

The phone twists to show Bakugo, “I have a gray shirt, black jeans and my Nike Cortez’s.” He said bluntly, his leather jacket folded over his arms as he crossed his arms. “Show your jewelry bro,” Mina groaned as he rolled his eyes. “I got three rings on, a bracelet, and my earrings.” He said sharply, “now get the phone out my face.”

“Alright last but not least sero!” She smiled and recorded the male. “Alright yall know I love me some y/n so I got to look good for her.” He held his hands up in defense, showing off his fresh haircut, styled in a slightly curly short mullet. His facial hair trimmed and looking fresh as well. “I’m wearing a beige velour button up, white shirt, my light brown velour pants, my cross and my white cortez’s.” He smiled.

“Alright see yall in a bit!” Mina waved at the phone before posting the video without edits made and tagging the four males. She put her phone away as the group made their way to the pit.

Throughout the duration of the concert Mina would post videos with the boys singing along to the music, all of them besides Bakugo would attempt to do the choreography without hurting the people around them. Finally y/n was dressed in her very sparkly golden yellow dress lined with silver. “Hi everyone, how’s the concert?” Y/n asked the crowd, getting back cheers and screams. She smiled, “you guys I seriously want to say thank you, this tour is so amazing, I’m meeting tons of new people. And I’m so eternally grateful for each and everyone of you. Especially because I get to look into a crowd every night and find my soulmate.”

The crowd knew what was happening and cheered loudly, “oh my, my heart, girls, come quick.” She waved over her back up dancers.

Mina started to record from the crowd as she wondered who was gonna be picked for the song.

“Come look at this man,” Y/n uses her hands to block the harsh light coming from above, looking straight at sero. Her backup dancers squealing and shaking her from side to side before the camera shows the rest of the crowd who she’s looking at. Sero notices it was him and very awkwardly raises his hand to say hi with a straight smile. All of a sudden red and blue lights along with a police siren starts blaring through the stadium.

Sero and the group started freaking out, sero immediately going to freaking out and blushing so he covered his face. Once he calmed down he put his hands down and y/n asked him, “what is your name?” He cupped his hands around his mouth and said loudly, “HANTA!” But y/n couldn’t hear him quite clearly so the boys and people around yelled his name to help. Mina was freaking out and recording sero the entire time. “Dude what the fuck!!”

“Hanta?” She asked in confirmation, once a nod was given, she smirked and said “Hanta~ you’re unfortunately under arrest for being too hot.” Sero covered his face while looking up, praying it wasn’t a dream and Denki shook him with excitement. “What are you doing later tonight?” Y/n asked him while tucking her hair behind her ear.

“I love you, like so much.” Sero said while looking at her almost crying and breaking down. “I love you too much that’s not what I’m asking.” Y/n joked as she smiled. Sero covered his eyes but his lips could be seen curling up as he almost cried. “Are you crying?!” Y/n asked in concern, “I love sensitive guys~”

Sero, Denki, and kiri all looked at each other and freaked out as they jumped slightly with joy. “Love when they’re in touch with their emotions. This is going well. You know what’s really going well? M-my clothes are just falling off of my body.” She said while looking at him as her long skirt fell to reveal a shorter one underneath and her signature silver platform high heeled boots. She stepped out of it and looked at Sero as the music started and her backup dancer handed her a pair of pink fuzzy handcuffs.

“Hanta, darling, would you be my Juno boy?” She squatted down, handed security the pink cuffs and smiled as Sero grabbed them and started cheering with Mina. “Oh my fucking god! Dude life is not real right now!” He screamed out, his hands clutching the cuffs tight.

“This one’s for Hanta.” Y/n winked and blew him a kiss before waving bye and going up the stage. The song ‘Juno’ continued playing as she made eye contact with Hanta throughout the duration of it. Near the end of the song y/n sang out.

“You make me wanna fall in love! Oh late at night I’m thinking bout you, Hanta, ah-ah~” she winked at him before singing again, “wanna try some freaky positions?”

She ran slightly to the end of the stage onto a large heart, laid on her stomach, turning to the left side slightly, her right leg bent to reveal the safety shorts underneath rocking her body back and forth slightly . “Have you ever tried this one?” She sang before finishing up the song and the concert all together.

After the concert sero posted the cuffs and tagged her in the photo, y/n dming him immediately.

‘But seriously what are you doing later tonight? 🤔’

#sero hanta #aged up character #sero x reader #kirishima eijiro #mha #mina ashido #Spotify

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leahsgf · 2 years ago

Note

I had a nightmare I picked the queen card and was chased and killed by the girls, nat and I were daying and she held me while I was dying in her arms 😭 I’m traumatized

your inevitable

pairings. post!crash natalie x reader

warnings. mentions of blood/knives and death

i’m sorry about your nightmare BUT also thank you for the writing inspiration! this is just pure sadness i have no other words..

it had all moved so fast. from the moment you plucked the card from the stack in misty’s grasp, and almost instantly accepted your fate. you knew how this went, it was routine to the group by now, there was no way around it.

no returns.

the practically burning cold belonging to shauna’s blade pressed tightly against your throat, as a crowd of eyes stared you down, emotionless, yet glazed over with an almost enjoyment, like some twisted entertainment act.

in what felt like a split second, the force trapping you in place from behind was ripped away from you, and thrown to the ground, making you freeze and your ears ring. a blur of utter chaos erupted around you, and a warm hand clasped around yours, dragging you outside, and away from the cabin, refusing to slow or let up through any stumble you took.

the others clocked on within seconds, mirroring your tracks with a statement of how the wilderness had selected you to run, and for them to hunt. howls and screams followed you, echoing and bouncing off of the trees almost mockingly, the drags of their now finely crafted handmade weapons against the snow behind them.

you had never been the fastest runner on the team, and you knew in the pit of your stomach that all of this was simply the delaying of your inevitable. that’s all it was. that was how this ended. you’d seen it countless times. still, you allowed yourself to be pulled forwards, attempting to keep up with the person.

“come on, it’s okay, we’re gonna be okay, i know a place, just keep moving. i’ve got you”

natalie. of course it was her.

in the beginning of your relationship the pair of you had endless discussions about each of your fears and what you needed to help with these. of course, in all of that you had never once imagined that not only would your anxieties about everyone you love turning and ganging up on you be true, but your best friends would be physically hunting you instead, and it wasn’t some silly thought that natalie could help ease.

the same way you couldn’t reassure her that you weren’t going anywhere and that you weren’t going to leave her. because out in the wilderness, your own existence was no longer something that you had any power over. however, the silent tears slipping down her cheeks told you louder than any words could that she knew exactly what was going to happen, and that she was just doing the same as you. desperately pushing back the inevitable.

you fell to the ground and into natalie’s arms, uncontrollably sobbing and heaving as you stumbled into the space that javi had previously hidden out in. the same one that he had been trying to show her when he died. when he was chosen.

“i-i’m so scared. i don’t want to d-die. pl-please” her arms scrambled to wrap around you, as an unspoken knowing that this was the last time they would fell between the pair of you. there was no promise or reassurance she could give you that wouldn’t be entirely empty. the snow would snitch, the imprints of your previous footsteps trailing your hunters right to you.

you whimpered as she was torn away from you, as if on cue, and launched against a ‘wall’, held there by mari, misty and melissa, who’s eyes were never once not on your body, even through all of natalie’s fighting, as you were viciously hauled up and onto your feet.

van held you up, sternly, as shauna resumed her previous position behind you, and that cold feeling against your neck returned, with a significant increase in force. a refusal to allow you to escape once more.

this time there was no pause. not an ounce of hesitation from the once reserved, shy girl who you had known since you were in diapers.

the girl who cried because she’d accidentally taken your block from you when you were five, now taking your life as if it was a casual, everyday doing.

which it now was.

the wilderness wanted you. so it got you.

the last sound you heard was your girlfriend’s screams as you felt the pressure shift, flush against you, a sudden, violent warmth flooding down your neck before you slumped to the ground like a rag doll, the snapping of sticks below you eerily filling the sudden silence that overcame.

“no no no no no”

natalie fell towards you, the hold on her having been released, wailing hysterically as she cradled you, pulling you close into her and blocking out the chants of “the wilderness chose” surrounding her. she wiped away what had been your last tears and pressed a shaky kiss to your forehead as you remained motionless.

“it’s okay, you go. i love you. i’ll love you forever. i’ll never forget you. i’m so sorry baby. i’m so so sorry.” she weeped as she brushed the hair away from your face, and watched the life fade from your eyes.

she remained in that position, holding you and almost rocking you, her screams not letting up for hours until she couldn’t fight off the others from taking you away.

natalie scatorccio had never been certain about anything in her life. not really. but the one thing that she had been certain of, into adulthood, and even in her own death, decades later, when the hunts still remained, was that her love for you was the best thing she’d ever had.

and she never got over that.

not really.

#yellowjackets #yellowjackets x reader #natalie scatorccio x reader #natalie scatorccio #nat scatorccio #nat scatorccio x reader #angst #sad ending #i’m sorry #no i’m not

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wriringramrles · 5 months ago

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Alright, time for a snippets dump. These are some more examples of my actual writing instead of just plot rambles.

This is from book one, the band is trying to break into a giant scorpion farm to run out the big corporation that illegally seized it:

As much as he appreciated Zhao for casting such a thorough and well-played invisibility spell, Dan quickly realized one major drawback to the plan. Perhaps none of the guards could see them… but neither could they see each other. He felt around blindly in the darkness, not able even to see his own arms held out in front of him. Dan didn’t dare call out to his friends, so he simply forged onward, hoping not to run into anyone.

So much for that. He immediately bumped into an invisible form and was lucky not to squawk with surprise. “Flora?” He whispered.

“No, it’s Zhao,” they whispered back, and patted around until they found his hand. They pulled him towards one of the rear barn doors, and slipped through. The two found themselves standing in a brightly lit room, staring at a group of off duty workers, card game forgotten on the table before a few, kettle boiling over in front of another, and all around open mouths and wide eyes as the farmers stared at the door which had seemingly opened on its own. An older farmer narrowed his eyes and twisted his hands together, pulling them apart again with a loud, magical whistling sound. A blast of wind erupted from his outstretched fingers, and dried out the invisibility spell. Dan and Zhao stood there, masked up like proper bandits, instruments in hand and looking mighty suspicious

“Er… Evenin’...” Dan attempted. “We’re, uh, here ta perform yer, uh, yer.. annual… review..” Zhao shook their head resignedly.

“Let’s just run, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The two bolted back out the door just as the farmers recovered themselves, one of them ringing a loud alarm bell as the rest poured out after the trespassers. Dan and Zhao ran for it, ducking behind a stack of wooden pallets to evade their pursuers. With Zhao breathing heavily, struggling not to cough, and Dan not necessarily needing to breath at all, they peeked out. Dan screeched when invisible hands grabbed at his shoulder.

“Dan.” José’s voice came from nowhere. “Ya suck at the sneakin’ thing. Is Flora with ya?”

“Thought she was with yew?”

“Nah, I got Johnny.” As if on cue, off in the distance they heard Flora’s distinct gravelly voice, invoking the Fate of destruction on her captors.

“Git yer filthy hands offa me! Swear to Efface I’ll tear yew sons of bitches to shreds, so help me, leggo’a’me! Jest lemme git my hands on my gun an’ yew’ll regret it!”

“Ah. There she is.” Johnny said.

#big rock #my books #dan mcgee #bigrock book one #zhao #johnny parson #flora easterly #jose hernandez #my writing

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phoebe-ofthe-cosmos · 2 years ago

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In Safe Hands

summary: Azriel teaches Gwyn how to throw a knife, and notices that he isn't the only one with flaws.

Read it on AO3

word count: 1,099

notes: just a quick thing based on an idea I had that Az is insecure about his hands until he sees that Gwyn's hands aren't perfect either.

Silver moonlight illuminated the training ring at the top of the House of Wind. Azriel sat, polishing a knife while he waited for the priestess to arrive for their private training session.

They’d be practicing with the knives this evening. She’d asked for the private session after having some trouble with her aim during a recent group exercise. Her throws were forceful, but inconsistent.

Azriel looked down at the blade as he ran the polishing cloth over it. Watched his scarred hands as they moved back and forth, back and forth. He twisted the blade, just slightly, to work it at a new angle, and caught his reflection in the metal. He found his own hazel eyes staring back at him. His face was serious. Hard.

Another swipe of the cloth, and his face disappeared.

Azriel felt a tug at his shoulders and looked up from the blade. His shadows were pulling towards a door – towards the stairs that led to the House and the Library beneath it. Seconds later, it opened. A copper-haired female, dressed in Illyrian training leathers, emerged from the dark. Her teal eyes twinkled.

“I’m sorry if I kept you waiting,” she said. “Merrill had me digging through stacks for hours looking for some obscure title.”

Azriel stood as she approached him. “I’m glad you could make it,” he said.

Gwyn set down her skin of water and began to swing her arms, warming her muscles. “Is that the knife I’m going to practice with?” she asked, jutting her chin towards the blade he held.

“It’s one of them,” he purred, one corner of his lips pulling upward.

Gwyn’s eyes flashed mischievously. “Can’t wait to see the others,” she said.

They moved through their warm up exercises – fewer than they might normally do in a morning training session, and with more focus on shoulder mobility for throwing.

“Ready to begin?” Azriel asked. Gwyn nodded. “Alright, let’s start with you showing me how you normally throw a blade,” he said. Gwyn lifted a knife from the small table beside them where a selection of sharpened blades lay. She turned the handle over in her hand, studying it, and then settled her fingers in a firm grip. She took a few steps forward and turned her gaze toward a target that Azriel had set at the far end of the ring. She steadied her eyes, pulled her arm back, and then –

The knife flew from her hand and shot through the air, a bolt of silver steel glistening in the starlight.

It connected with the target, lodged firmly in the canvas and wood. In the second ring from the edge, left of the bullseye. Gwyn huffed in frustration.

“It always goes left but I swear I’m throwing straight,” she said, her teeth gritted. Azriel nodded.

“I want to take a closer look at your grip,” he said. “Pick up another and just hold it, however you normally do.” Gwyn followed his direction, selecting another knife and curling her fingers around its handle.

Azriel took a step towards the priestess, so close now that his chest grazed her back. He could feel the heat radiating from her body as he gently touched her hand, raising it so he could take a closer look.

Azriel slowly wrapped his fingers over hers, finding a grip on the handle of the blade that she held. He waited for her to flinch, to pull away – to have some reaction to his touch. But she didn’t move. Didn’t so much as flex a muscle. She only looked at him expectantly, waiting for his instruction.

He paused for a second to survey her hand, to see how it looked beneath his own gnarled skin.

For training purposes, he told himself.

Gwyn’s skin was pale, and soft to the touch. Her palms were small and calloused, he knew, from wielding a sword during their training sessions. His gaze moved towards her fingers, his eyes gliding over the first knuckle, the second. But where Azriel expected to see her fingers taper to soft points, he instead found short, blunt fingernails, their edges jagged. The skin around the nails was red and raw, marked with small pin pricks of dried blood. He felt his eyebrows pull together.

“Your hands are bloody,” he said without thinking.

Gwyn yanked her hand from beneath his grip. “No, they’re not,” she retorted. She sheathed the blade in her belt and stuffed her hands in her pockets.

Azriel laughed. “Yes, they are,” he said.

Gwyn scowled at him. “I thought we were here so I could learn how to throw knives better, not to criticize my personal grooming habits.”

“I’m sorry,” Azriel stifled another chuckle, trying not to make her feel insecure. “Really.” He took a deep breath, schooled his face into neutrality. “I didn’t mean to criticize, I was just surprised to see it.”

Gwyn held his gaze, her eyes stern, but she sighed. “I bite my nails.” She said it like she was confessing a sin. “I don’t realize I’m doing it, most times. Just while I’m reading in the library. Sometimes if I’m nervous about something. It’s a bad habit.”

Azriel nodded. An absent-minded, anxious tic. He tried not to imagine what may have made her nervous today.

Gwyn cocked her head to the side, her brows raising in challenge. “Do you have any more questions about my shameful secrets, Spymaster, or are you ready to teach me how to throw a knife?”

Azriel couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. “Show me your grip again.”

She pulled her hands from her pocket and wrapped one around the handle of the blade once more. And, just as he had before, Azriel wrapped his own hand over hers.

He let himself enjoy it, just for a split second. The image of their imperfect hands intertwined on the handle.

“This is good,” he said. “But you’ll have an easier time if you move your thumb like this.”

He demonstrated the adjustment, and she followed.

A short time later, their lesson was finished. Gwyn had nearly mastered the new techniques Azriel showed her, consistently throwing shots that would be deadly on a battlefield. She’d returned to the Library, and Azriel worked to finish tidying the training ring.

She’s a fast learner, he thought as he racked the knives they’d used. Emotion flashed through him – pride, and then… regret. Azriel paused as his mind trailed, chasing that errant thought.

He wished that she wasn’t so quick to learn, he realized.

So that they might be able to spend more time together.

#gwynriel #gwynriel fic #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #gwyneth berdara #valkyrie training #sfw #no plot just vibes #acotar #acosf #acotar fanfiction

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hellsitedotcom · 5 months ago

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✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ OC Introduction : Siobhan ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

''Hell is empty, and all the devils are here.'' - The Tempest, William Shakespeare.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Rarity : ✦✦✦✦ Lore Path : Elation. Combat Path : Harmony. Combat Type : Fire. Weapon(s) Of Choice : none; theater scripts.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

— C O M B A T —

✧ Normal Attack

– Deals a single strike of Fire DMG to a single enemy.

✧ Elemental Skill

– Upon triggering their Elemental Skill, applies ‘’Spotlight’’ to a single ally, forwarding their action while additionally boosting the character’s DMG.

✧ Ultimate Skill

– Upon triggering their Ultimate Skill, an area is created around the party, offering an advanced ‘’Spotlight’’ state to all allies for (3) turns; during this state, all characters have their DMG increased, while also having the slowest ally’s action advanced. – Their Elemental Skill can still be triggered. The ATK & DMG boosts stack a certain amount of times.

✧ Technique Skill

– When triggering their Technique Skill, automatically forwards the slowest ally’s action to take the first turn upon entering battle.

✧ Passive Talent

– For each ally whose SPD is slower than 143, increases Siobhan's own SPD by a set amount without a max. limit.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

— L O R E —

species: arcadian; ancoran. age: mid 20s.

title(s): Haven's brightest star, ''Masked Fool''. fraction: the Agency.

✧ Appearance

Siobhan is an average height, attractive woman with hazel green eyes (~hex, #7e8c4c). She has long, blonde hair that she often keeps lose or in a high ponytail.

While she does enjoy matching outfits with Niccolò and dressing in stylish and elegant manners, she's often seen dressed more casual than her friend. Flannels - either worn or wrapped around her torso - have been a signature of hers prior to moving to Haven and being recruited by the Agency. Additionally, she also wears quite an array of jewelry, though she prefers her rings and necklaces to be golden. She also wears an old, handmade bracelet she got from an old childhood friend when she was still really young. She has a star constellation tattooed on her lower arm, and plans on getting one or two more.

✧ Character Story I

Silence. Siobhan hadn’t experienced it in years. There was something eerie about it, something unknown, and she hated it. She hated it with her entire being. But there wasn’t much she could do, no? There was nothing she had to say, nothing that anyone around her would want to hear.

The cataclysm had passed. The endless fights and conflicts were over, so why? Why weren’t they relieved? Why wasn’t anyone happy?Her best friend, Niccolò, was the only one that had gone with their ‘’savior’’ to talk about what happens next. The rest of their crew? They were merely staring at nothing, barely moving, as if in a trance or frozen in time.

Beside her, her childhood friend held back sobs, body pressed against Siobhan’s as they waited for their stand-in leader to return. On her other side, another friend sat, staring at the ceiling with a blank expression. What an odd sight, to see her group that was usually so full of life suddenly seem devoid of…everything.

Her mind wandered from one person to the other as Siobhan thought back to the moment the cataclysm hit them. Her brows furrowed, her body growing more tense. Perhaps they had died during the disaster after all? Maybe these were merely illusions, or figments of her imagination playing as she took her last breaths? No, that wasn’t it.

They were grieving. As much as Siobhan wanted to ignore that painful reality, but they were grieving the losses of all their friends and loved ones that passed away when the cataclysm hit. ‘’All because of the stubbornness and pride of one person…’’ she muttered under her breath, careful that no one would understand her. All because their former leader did not want to surrender to Haven’s government. If it didn’t hurt so much, Siobhan would laugh over the sheer ridiculousness of the situation.

Beside her, her friend shifted, eyes wandering from the ceiling to the door through with Niccolò had disappeared, ‘’How much longer do you think they’ll be talking?’’

‘’I don’t know,’’ the woman hummed, gently pushing her childhood friend off her shoulder before standing up, ‘’But I’m tired of waiting.’’

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

— V O I C E L I N E S —

✧ First Meeting

The name's Siobhan, though most people just call me ''the greatest actress Haven has ever seen''. Don't believe me? Oh, don't worry, you will.

✧ Greeting

Hey there, long time no see. The weather's nice, so...why not go on a little adventure with me?

✧ Parting

You want to leave already? But the night's still young, and whose to say that this has to have an end at all?

✧ About Self: Astrology

I don't talk about it much around the others, but I've always found comfort in Astrology. I'm not even sure how to explain it, but reading about what your signs symbolize or what they could mean for your future...sometimes it just...it makes me feel better about myself, you know?

✧ About Self: Acting

I knew that I wanted to become an actress since I was a kid, and since I was blessed with extremely supportive parents, I was able to pursue that goal. When I joined my first theater group in school, I thought I'd not enjoy it as much as, you know, acting in those big fancy movies behind the scene, but now? There's nothing I love more than expressing myself on a giant theater stage in front of hundreds of thousands of people.

✧ About Niccolò

He's one of my oldest friends, though we initially met through a mutual friend. That friend is...sadly not with us anymore, and Niccolò is one of the only people I have left since the cataclysm hit Arcadia. He's a great guy, though. Always ready to stir up some drama and cause a scene, heh.

✧ About Keane

Arcadia's ''Golden Boy''...No, but seriously, he's a good one. Probably one of few left on Arcadia. I have to say, I'm glad its him up there by the President's side. If it weren't, who knows what Haven and the rest of Arcadia might look like today...

✧ About Evelyn

I- The choice I made, I made for Niccolò and my other friends. I wish Evelyn would've just...given in and joined the rest of us. But they're stubborn. They've always been. I...I can't blame them for it, and I hope they don't blame us either.

✧ Added to a Team with Evelyn

I- I'm glad I get to be by your side for this.

✧ Added to a Team with Niccolò

Ready to fudge stuff up?

✧ Added to a Team with Keane

Well, golden boy, I'll leave the tough guys to you.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

#i'm holding her gently actually #hsr oc #honkai oc #hsr #.oc - siobhan #yes ik she shares a name with an npc BUT siobhan has existed with that name even since before the release of star rail as an oc of mine #and i love her name too dearly to change it up because of an npc that shell never interact with

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diskaywrites · 5 months ago

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Whumpuary 2025 With An Outstretched Hand

𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟓: "𝐈'𝐦 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐞." 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐖𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠-------𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐖𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠-----𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐭 𝐱 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐧 (𝐨𝐜) 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟔𝟏𝟏

The moment he had come back from the ring, shirt covered in the blood of the ray of sunshine the world knew as Mark Andrews, the sovereign lord Spike Trivet had heard the sounds of another crying. At first, he had assumed it to be one of the many enemies of Do Not Resuscitate, the group that Spike led against the men that were deemed too old or that held the positions the rest of his team wanted. There were plenty men who fit that build, after all.

Then Spike had rounded the corner to see 𝒉𝒆𝒓.

The blonde was sitting on a stack of crates, head in her hands and the unmistakable sound of sobs coming with each wracking breath. Had it not been for the pink and white ring gear the girl wore, there was no way Spike would have recognized her as the woman who, earlier in the night, had been soundly defeated by Progress Women's Champion Jinny. A calm smile crossed Spike's face as he crossed over, tapping the end of his decorative cane he carried against the side of her foot. The girl looked up, shining blue eyes brimming with tears. "I…I'm sorry to bother you. I'm fine. Honest."

"Carmen Evergreen, isn't it?" Spike questioned, briefly noting the look in her eyes. It reminded him of fellow DNR member Dakota Heraldry, gentle and innocent. It had taken Dakota quite a while to warm up to the guidance Spike had to offer, but he was certain this would turn out differently. This would not lead to the heartbreak that the relationship he had found himself in with Dakota currently was bringing.

"Um y…yes sir…" she gave a soft nod of her head, rubbing her palms against her thighs as if she were nervous, "And you're Spike Trivet. My b…my best friend told me all about you."

"My reputation preceeds me," Spike gave a chuckle, leaning against the cane in his hand. Hawkish eyes raked over her form, an almost lecherous smirk crossing thin lips, "That match against Jinny. It 𝒘𝒂𝒔 a tough loss, wasn't it?"

Carmen wouldn't look him in the eyes and that told Spike everything that he needed to know. Carmen's loss, her despair, would benefit the both of them. Spike could mold her into the talent that he wanted her to become, could have the female representation in DNR so that they could hold all of the gold. And Carmen? Well, she would no longer be reduced to crying where no one else could have been able to find her. "I…it doesn't matter what I do, Mr. Trivet. Nothing…nothing feels like its working. Nothing makes me feel like I belong here."

Spike gave a pitying nod, "Oh, I understand. If there is anything I know, it is the feeling of not belonging where you are. I have been there myself. I was there myself until I found the rest of my lads in my team. What you need, Carmen, is someone to look out for you. Someone to guide you."

Carmen cocked her head to the side with a sniffle, her long blonde hair moving just off of her shoulder, "You…are you…"

Spike tucked the cane underneath his arm and offered the hand to Carmen, in his eyes as a god reaching out to someone who would one day worship them, "Let me help you, Carmen Evergreen. Allow me to give you the guidance you are looking for."

Slowly, nervously, Carmen's soft pale palm rested against the leather-gloved hand of Spike Trivet, allowing Spike to help her to her feet, "I…I trust you Mr. Trivet."

"And I will always give you a reason to."

#diskay writes #whumpuary 2025 #whumpuary2025 #whumpuaryno25 #whumpuary: im fine #spike trivet #c: carmen evergreen

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pixel7777 · 5 months ago

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The Downside of Daring Rescues Chapter 8: Smooth Criminal(s)

⏱️🚨 A daring disguise, impeccable timing, and just a little magical trickery—Darla and the crew take on Candlekeep's most secure secrets. High-stakes tension meets devilish charm as our favorite adventurers navigate danger, deception, and an unexpected reward. 📿🌞

Darla's heart raced beneath her illusory disguise as Sage Evendur. She led their small group toward the restricted section's entrance. This was exactly the kind of moment she lived for—danger, drama, and the chance to pull off something spectacular.

The guards stood at attention as they approached, and Darla swept forward with all the authority she'd observed in the real Evendur's mannerisms.

"Good evening. I'm escorting these researchers to examine some texts on theoretical transmutation." She kept her voice crisp and precise, just like Evendur's.

The moment they crossed the threshold into the detection field, magical energy hummed through the air. A soft chime rang out, and the guards' expressions sharpened.

"Pardon me, Sage, but we're detecting an illusion effect. No magical effects or items are allowed into the restricted section without special clearance."

Astarion stepped forward, his own disguise making him appear as a scholarly apprentice. "Oh! My apologies." He twisted a ring off his finger with an embarrassed smile. "It's just a minor glamour—helps with some old scars. I didn't realize it would cause an issue."

Darla held her breath as Syl worked her magic behind them. The permanent magic detection field flickered almost imperceptibly—if Darla hadn't known to watch for it, she would have missed it entirely.

"Here." Astarion handed the ring to the nearest guard. "I know the vanity is silly, I just...."

The chiming stopped. The guards examined the ring, then placed it in a chest behind the guard desk.

"You may retrieve it upon exit, scholar." The guard said to Astarion before turning to Darla. "You may proceed, Sage Evendur."

Darla swept past them, maintaining Evendur's dignified bearing while internally bouncing with excitement. She'd never felt more alive than in these moments of perfect deception, every gesture a performance, every word carrying double meaning. The fact that they were breaking into one of the most secure libraries in Faerûn only added to the thrill.

As they moved deeper into the restricted section, Darla caught Astarion's subtle wink. She didn't dare break character to respond, but she felt the same rush of success in her veins. They had exactly one hour before Syl's suppression spell wore off. The real heist was about to begin.

Darla forced herself to maintain Evendur's measured pace as they moved deeper into the restricted section, though excitement bubbled beneath her scholarly facade. The ancient tomes lining the shelves seemed to watch their progress, their spines gleaming with gilt letters and magical wards.

"That was brilliant," Syl whispered, her own disguise making her appear as a young apprentice. "I wasn't sure the suppression would work—the magic detection field was stronger than I expected."

"Save the celebration," Darla murmured back. "We've got at least three more wards ahead."

Astarion moved with practiced grace, checking corners and listening for guard rotations. His expertise at infiltration showed in every silent step, every careful gesture. When they reached the first locked gate, he produced his tools with fluid efficiency.

"Two minutes until the next patrol," Darla warned, keeping Evendur's commanding posture while her heart raced.

The lock clicked open just as footsteps echoed from the adjacent corridor. They slipped through, Syl quietly dispelling a magical trap that would have triggered another alarm. They had no scholar's key to open the way, so Astarion and Syl did it for them.

Section by section, they penetrated deeper into the library's most guarded areas. Each barrier required perfect timing—Astarion's lockpicking between patrols, Syl's stack of scrolls of Dispel Magic. Darla kept count in her head, matching the rhythm of their progress to the guard rotations she'd memorized. One lock, two, the dash down the stairs to give themselves time to deal with the next obstacle. All ticked along to Darla's careful count… and then the count ran over.

Darla's muscles tensed as Syl knelt before the shimmering ward, her friend's fingers tracing intricate patterns in the air. Darla had expected to be past this door already, but Syl was still working. The magical barrier rippled with dangerous energy, far more complex than the previous ones they'd encountered.

"How much longer?" Darla whispered, still maintaining Evendur's posture despite her rising anxiety.

"It's not responding to the standard counter." Syl's voice carried an edge Darla rarely heard. "The matrix is... there's something different about this one."

Footsteps echoed from the corridor—the next patrol, right on schedule. Darla's heart jumped into her throat. They should have been through this section already.

"Syl..."

"I know, I know." Sweat beaded on Syl's forehead as she worked. "Just... there!"

The ward flickered and died. Astarion immediately dropped to one knee before the lock, picks already in hand. The footsteps grew louder, accompanied by the subtle clink of armor.

Darla counted the seconds in her head, matching them to the guard's approach. Ten seconds until he rounded the corner. Nine. Eight.

The lock was proving stubborn even under Astarion's skilled hands. Seven. Six.

"Hurry," she breathed, though she knew it wouldn't help.

Five. Four.

The lock finally clicked. Three.

They slipped through the door, Darla's illusory robes whisking against the frame. Two.

Astarion eased it shut with impossible gentleness. One.

The guard's shadow appeared on the wall just as the latch settled into place with the barest whisper of metal on metal. Darla pressed herself against the wall, holding her breath as the guard passed by on the other side. His footsteps continued down the corridor, fading into silence.

She released her breath in a shaky laugh, though she kept it quiet. That had been far too close. Syl shot her an apologetic look, while Astarion simply straightened his scholarly disguise and moved forward, already focused on their next obstacle.

Finally, they reached their target section. The magical alarm here hummed with power that made Darla's skin tingle. Even through her disguise, she could see Syl's face pale.

"That's... definitely beyond me," Syl admitted.

"As we expected. Now we wait," Darla said, trying to project confidence she didn't entirely feel. Everything hinged on Zee and Dalyria's timing. She glanced at Astarion, who had positioned himself to watch both approaches to their position.

The seconds crawled by like hours as they waited in the shadowed alcove, every distant footstep or creak making Darla's pulse jump. She found herself holding her breath, straining to hear any sign that the next phase of their plan had begun.

The blaring alarm made Darla jump despite expecting it. Red magical lights flashed through the restricted section as a disembodied voice echoed through the halls.

"Attention all visitors. Please proceed calmly to the entrance. An incident is being handled. Your cooperation ensures everyone's safety."

Darla exchanged grins with Syl and Astarion. Zee and Dalyria had done their part perfectly—releasing a cursed tome in the opposite wing would keep the guards occupied for hours. Much longer than they needed.

"Attention all visitors..." The message repeated, its measured tone at odds with the chaos of flashing lights and racing footsteps in distant corridors.

Astarion's fingers danced across the shelf before finding their target. He pulled the leather-bound volume free with practiced grace, tucking it into his robes. He triggered that shelf's alarm, of course, but since one was already in progress…

"Time to be good, law-abiding citizens," Darla said in Evendur's clipped tones, leading their small group toward the exit. The path ahead lay clear—they'd already disabled the magical wards and locks during their careful infiltration.

Groups of scholars hurried past them, all heading for the entrance. Darla maintained Evendur's dignified bearing while matching the crowd's urgent pace. No one spared them a second glance; they were just three more researchers following proper evacuation procedures.

The message continued its endless loop as they passed through each section. "Please proceed calmly to the entrance. An incident is being handled..."

Darla's heart raced with excitement, but she kept her expression appropriately concerned.

Darla maintained Evendur's dignified posture as they joined the crowd funneling through the entrance hall. Guards were stopping everyone, methodically checking bags and patting down robes. She caught Syl's subtle nod—right on schedule.

The crowd pressed close, scholars muttering about the disruption and speculating about the cause of the alarm. Perfect cover. Darla shifted her weight, creating a small pocket of space around Astarion while appearing to simply adjust her robes. Syl mirrored her movement on Astarion's other side.

A whisper of leather armor brushed Darla's arm—Thal, invisible and right on time. She fought down a grin, keeping Evendur's stern expression as she watched Astarion's practiced movements. If she hadn't known to look, she would have missed the slight shift of his scholarly robes, the book passing from his hidden grip into what appeared to be empty air.

"Next group!" A guard waved them forward.

Darla stepped up confidently, allowing the guard to check her robes. Her heart fluttered as his hands passed near the magical components hidden in her sleeve, but Astarion's sewing (yes, the vampire sewed. she was still baffled.) of the hidden compartments was impeccable.

"Clear," the guard announced, already turning to Astarion.

Darla moved through the checkpoint, maintaining her measured pace despite wanting to sprint. Behind her, she heard the guards clearing Syl and Astarion in turn.

They walked until they found an empty side corridor. Darla checked both directions before dropping her illusion with a relieved sigh. The others followed suit, Astarion's scholarly appearance melting away to reveal his familiar face.

"That," Darla whispered as they hurried toward the rendezvous in her guest quarters, "was absolutely perfect."

Back in Darla's room, she barely contained her excitement as Zee burst through the door, Dalyria close behind. Thal materialized from thin air, the stolen book clutched securely in their hands.

"We did it!" Darla squealed, throwing her arms around Zee. His booming laugh filled the room as he lifted her off her feet in a crushing hug.

"You should have seen Dalyria's performance!" Zee set Darla down, gesturing dramatically. "Three guards, all convinced they'd eaten bad fish at lunch. The timing was perfect!"

Dalyria's pale cheeks might have colored if she wasn't a vampire spawn. "Simple medical knowledge and a contact poison. The symptoms were convincing enough to clear the ward room without raising suspicion…. They'll be fine, of course."

"And then—" Zee mimed an explosion "—boom! One ward smashed, one cursed tome, one very angry minor fiend released to take the fall, and absolute chaos!"

Syl crossed her arms, smirking. "Meanwhile, we're calmly walking out the front door like proper scholars."

Darla bounced on her toes, still riding the high of their success. She spun toward Astarion—who stood slightly apart from the celebration—and wrapped him in an impulsive hug. He stiffened, clearly uncomfortable with the display of affection, but Darla didn't care.

"Your lockpicking was amazing! I thought that last door had us for sure."

"Yes, well." Astarion extracted himself from her embrace delicately. "A lifetime of practice has its uses."

Thal placed the book on Darla's desk, their usually stern expression softened by satisfaction. "The guards are still searching the other wing. They'll be chasing their tails for hours trying to figure out how a fiend got into that ward room."

"To think," Dalyria said, examining the tome with reverent fingers, "this could be the key to understanding how vampirism affects the body's natural healing processes."

Zee dropped onto Darla's bed, making it creak. "And all it took was a little breaking and entering! Just another day's work for the greatest adventuring party in the Sword Coast."

"Don't get ahead of yourself." Syl perched on the desk's edge. "We still need to actually cure vampirism."

But Darla couldn't help sharing Zee's enthusiasm. They'd pulled it off—infiltrated one of the most secure libraries in Faerûn and escaped without anyone suspecting a thing. It felt like the beginning of something bigger, something truly heroic.

***

Astarion lounged against the wall of Darla's quarters, watching his companions celebrate their successful heist. The wine flowed freely—a decent vintage Darla had secured in advance. He wasn't sure if her confidence in their success annoyed or thrilled him.

"And when that guard walked right past us!" Dal's silver hair caught the candlelight as she gestured animatedly. "I've never seen such perfect timing."

He'd never seen his sister so alive, so full of hope. Her usual careful physician's demeanor had given way to genuine excitement as she outlined their next steps with Master Adelie. Research, experimentation, the systematic dismantling of their curse—she spoke of it all with absolute certainty.

"A toast!" Darla raised her glass. "To the smoothest heist in Candlekeep's history."

Their glasses clinked. Astarion brought his to his lips, sipped, and put a practiced smile on his face.

He should have felt elated. They'd pulled off an impossible theft without bloodshed or violence. No one had died because of them. No one had even been hurt. The thought settled in his chest like a warm weight—when had that started mattering to him? These people, with their easy laughter and casual touches, had somehow wormed their way past his defenses.

Dal caught his eye from across the room, her smile dimming slightly. "You're quiet, brother."

"Just savoring our triumph," he deflected, raising his glass again. But the words felt hollow. Here they were, on the cusp of everything Dal had dreamed of, and he couldn't summon an ounce of her enthusiasm. The realization irritated him. What more could he possibly want? They had shelter, protection, a genuine chance at a cure. It was more than he'd dared hope for in centuries.

Yet something nagged at him, an emptiness he couldn't name. He watched Darla throw her head back in laughter at one of Zee's terrible jokes, and the feeling intensified.

Thal materialized at Astarion's side, their presence as silent as a shadow. "You look about as enthusiastic as a cat in a bath."

Astarion shot them a withering glare. "I'm celebrating. See?" He raised his glass with exaggerated cheer.

"Mhm." Thal's knowing smirk grated on his nerves. "Still thinking about our chat in the courtyard?"

Damn their perceptiveness. Astarion swirled the wine in his glass, watching the red liquid catch the light. "Perhaps you had a point. This—" he gestured vaguely at the scholars' quarters around them, "—isn't exactly what I pictured for my future. Not that I'm ungrateful," he added quickly. "What you've all done for us... I never expected anyone to—" The words caught in his throat.

"To help you?" Thal's voice softened.

"Yes." Astarion cleared his throat. "And I intend to make the most of this chance. Even if I'm not entirely sure what that looks like yet."

Thal's face split into a cocky grin. "Of course I was right. I usually am. Which is why—" They reached into their leather vest and pulled out something that gleamed in the candlelight. "I've been working on acquiring this."

The amulet sang with magic as it dropped into Astarion's palm. Silver and obsidian twisted together in an intricate pattern, thrumming with power.

"What's this then?" Darla called from across the room, conversation dying as all eyes turned toward them.

Thal's grin widened. "Protection from radiant damage. For our favorite daylight-challenged friend."

Astarion stared at the amulet, its magic humming against his palm. The weight of it—both physical and symbolic—left him momentarily speechless. A rare occurrence, indeed.

His gaze darted to Darla, searching for any hint of prior knowledge, but her wide-eyed surprise mirrored his own. For once, the bard seemed at a loss for words.

"I—" The metal felt warm against his cold skin. He cleared his throat. "This is rather substantial magic."

"Had to call in quite a few favors." Thal shifted, almost appearing embarrassed. "Could only get the one, but Dal won't need it here. Plenty of windowless rooms in Candlekeep, and Master Adelie can smooth over any daylight issues that come up."

The implication hung in the air like smoke. Astarion's fingers tightened around the amulet. "And why would I need protection from daylight in a library when Dal won't?"

"Maybe you won't." Thal's lavender eyes met his steadily. "Been holding onto it for a while, waiting for the right moment. Figured you should have both options clear: stay here, help with the cure research, or..." They gestured toward the rest of the party. "The roads are always open. And we could use someone with your particular talents."

The wine glass in his other hand suddenly felt like a prop in a particularly awkward performance. Astarion set it down carefully, buying time to collect his thoughts. The possibility of choice—real choice, not the illusion of it—left him dizzy.

"You've had this... waiting?" The words came out sharper than intended. "How long have you been planning this little dramatic reveal?"

"Since after our first sparring match." Thal's mouth quirked. "When you said there weren't any other possibilities for you. I do enjoy proving others wrong."

Astarion's gaze drifted to Dal, his throat tight. She sat primly in her chair, every inch the physician she'd been before Cazador. The thought of leaving her here alone made him uncomfortable. Yet the library suited her—she'd always found comfort in research and healing. Unlike him.

"Oh, stop looking so concerned," Dal said, rolling her eyes. "I'm hardly alone here. And you've never been one for sitting still."

"I can't just—"

"You can. And you should." Her voice softened. "I have what I want now. A chance to understand this curse, to help others like us. Maybe even cure it." She stood, crossing to him. "But that's my dream, brother. Not yours."

The amulet felt heavier in his palm. "We could visit," he said carefully. "Check that Master Adelie keeps their word."

"Of course," Zee chimed in. "We pass through here every few months anyway. Plenty of work on the Coast Way."

"And you'd have us watching your back," Thal added, their steady gaze fixed on him. "Well?"

Astarion opened his mouth, but words failed him. The possibility stretched before him like an open road—terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

"Think of all the locks we wouldn't have to smash through," Zee said, grinning. "My poor axe could use the break."

"And my spell components aren't cheap," Syl added with an exaggerated sigh. "Besides, another blade between me and the rabble wouldn't hurt."

His eyes found Darla last. She leaned against her desk, that infuriating knowing smile on her face. "What do you think, friend?"

Astarion turned the amulet over in his palm, its magic thrumming against his cold skin. The possibility of choice—real choice—made his chest tight with an unfamiliar sensation.

"Well, if you're all so desperate for my company, who am I to deny you?" He affected his most dramatic sigh. "Though I should warn you, my standards for accommodation are rather exacting. No more sleeping in caves."

"There he is," Thal said with a knowing smirk. They took the amulet from his hands and stepped behind him. The silver chain settled cool against his neck, its weight somehow both foreign and right. "Now you look properly equipped for adventure."

"It does complement my complexion rather nicely." Astarion's fingers traced the intricate metalwork, his voice lighter than the emotion threatening to close his throat. "Though I suppose I should thank you all properly. Even if your timing is unnecessarily theatrical."

"Says the man who can't answer a simple question without three costume changes," Darla quipped.

"I have a reputation to maintain, darling." He caught Dal's eye across the room and found only warmth there. No judgment, no disappointment—just understanding. The tightness in his chest expanded into something that felt suspiciously like joy.

How strange, to feel so... light. As if some invisible weight had lifted from his shoulders. Was this what happiness felt like? He'd almost forgotten.

"Though I do hope you realize," he added, unable to completely abandon his usual sharp humor, "that this means you're all stuck with me now. I'm notoriously difficult to get rid of once I've decided to stay."

"I've noticed," said Darla, dryly.

"Stuck with you?" Zee's booming laugh filled the room. "More like stuck listening to your commentary on our fashion choices. I saw that look you gave my boots yesterday."

Astarion's lips twitched. "Darling, those aren't boots. They're crimes against cobbling. I've seen better footwear on plague victims."

"Not all of us can spend twenty minutes every morning arranging their hair to look 'artfully disheveled,'" Syl drawled.

"Don't bother trying. You'll never make succeed this magnificently." Astarion touched his curls with practiced vanity. "Though I notice you watching closely enough to time it."

Thal snorted. "Just wait until we're camping in the rain. All that careful styling, ruined by the elements."

"I do not camp in the rain." Astarion straightened his collar. "I find suitable shelter, like any sensible person."

"Oh?" Darla's eyes sparkled with mischief. "And when there isn't any shelter?"

"Then clearly someone has failed in their planning, and I shall complain. Extensively. In detail. With references to historical instances of better organization."

"Wonderful." Syl pinched the bridge of their nose. "We've recruited a walking critique of wilderness survival."

"Someone needs to maintain standards." Astarion hitched his chin and looked down his nose at them dramatically. "Though I suppose if you're all determined to sleep in muddy ditches, I could be persuaded to demonstrate proper tent-pitching technique. Assuming you can follow basic instructions."

"There it is." Zee grinned. "The famous Astarion condescension. I was starting to worry you'd gone soft on us."

"Never, darling." But Astarion couldn't quite keep the warmth from his voice. Their teasing lacked the cruel edge he'd grown used to, the bite of mockery meant to wound. Instead, it felt almost... fond.

How strange, to be known and still welcomed. To have his sharp edges accepted rather than used against him.

"To the most bizarre collection of weirdos to ever hit the road in search of adventure. We wouldn't have it any other way," Darla declared, raising her glass. "To new beginnings!"

The toast rang out, and Astarion found himself smiling—genuinely smiling—as he raised his glass with the others. The amulet pulsed warmly against his skin, like a promise of possibilities he'd never dared to imagine.

***

From the journal of Astarion Ancunín

Well, this is certainly unexpected. I'm writing this from my new quarters—and by quarters, I mean a rather questionable inn room that smells faintly of mildew. But it's mine. Mine to choose. Mine to leave.

I keep touching the amulet around my neck, half-convinced it will vanish like morning mist. The magic pulses against my fingertips, steady and real. Protection from radiant damage. Such a simple thing, yet it changes everything. No more ducking through shadows or relying on the cover of darkness.

Dal seemed genuinely pleased about my departure. I should be offended by how eager she was to be rid of me, but... she's right. The library suits her far better than it ever would me. She has her research, her purpose. And now, apparently, I have mine.

Though what that purpose is remains rather vague. "Adventure." How absurd. I spent over a century desperately trying to survive, and now I'm choosing to put myself in danger? Willingly traveling with a group that includes Darla "I'll-make-a-song-about-your-trauma" Daring?

The truly mad part is that I want to.

I should be terrified. I am terrified. But beneath that fear lies something else. Something that feels suspiciously like... anticipation? Hope? (What a dangerous word that is.)

Thal must have planned this for weeks. The amulet isn't some trinket—it's finely crafted, precisely enchanted. To think they saw something in me worth investing in, worth planning for...

No. Stop that line of thinking immediately. They simply recognize my utility. My skills. Nothing more.

(But they could have found another lockpick anywhere. They chose me.)

I need wine. Several bottles, preferably.

A.A.

#bg3 #astarion #bg3 fanfic #myfic

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uzumakisavior · 1 year ago

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"There's no victory in making someone kneel against their will." [ Cult Geto <3 ]

The leadership counsel keep their lips sewn shut. The tension lay thick in the air, and the deafening silence rang within its four walls. All eight members hold their breath-- doing their best to control any movement with their stiff, inflexible bodies.

The 9th member, the Publics Relations Manager Aoi Suzuki, grits her teeth. Suzuki is the only member standing, just as Master Geto asked, and she doesn't bear to look at him. Her eyes fixate on the wooden table in front of her. Beads of sweat gather on her patchy black hairline.

"Answer me, Suzuki." Geto's voice remains firm and composed. A sneer pulls taught at the corner of his lips, mocking any sense of safety and hope. His hand reaches into his yukata, seeking for something important.

"If these carefully, tactfully written letters aren't from you -" Suguru removes small stack of handwritten letters from his attire, then tosses them in front of him. Several pages slide across the conference table, some almost flitter in the wind. "Then who? Who else would tarnish the name of our tranquil abode. Why would anyone speak ill will of our liberated community? Isn't it our job to unshackle the masses, not push them away." Suguru's tone morph into a form of malignent playfullness. "Spoiling our heavenly mission -...hmm....I would say - fall under the guise of treason, would it not?"

Suguru's words sharply ring in Aoi's ears. They echoe in the corners of her mind like an ominous beating drum. She was - in fact - stealthily warning the public of Geto's cult. Suzuki has valuable connections to the media and other public outlets, an advantage Geto sought to exploit. As a result, Suzuki was personally hired by Geto to gather more lost souls to freedom. While her networking skills proved itself useful to him, but she couldn't stand by and watch people die any longer. Her guilty consciousness ate away at her psyche and health. Compliance was the flame swallowing her whole.

A devoted follower pretended to be Aoi's next business partner. A secret few that Geto has chosen to spy on other members. Suzuki told them to keep away from the group, occasionally sending a letter or two explaining why. Her aggregious mistake revealed her true intentions to Master Geto himself, and now her foolishness was coming at a price. Possibly her own life.

Suguru leans forward, resting his chin on his on his palm. Eyebrows crease harshly in a macabre display of intent, and a cold- unrelenting stare glues onto Aoi. This threatening ear to ear grin remains. "Well....?" He asks, his words icy enough to chill bones.

The 8 members glance at one another from across the table. Pupils shrink, but otherwise, eyes remain the same. All sit statuesque to avoid becoming involved in the scene. All but their visitor, a pink haired, gentle, sweet voiced woman who had the honor to sit beside Master Geto. Without her, Master Geto would sit alone at the end of the long rectangular conference table.

Suzuki's clammy skeletal palms held onto the seat, resting beside her. Shallow breath work against the pounding heart hitting her chest. Speak...speak.speak.speak idiot speak!! she thinks. Her anxiety held its grip on her stuttering voice and shaky emaciated lips. Tears well up by the mild crows feet wrinkling at the corner of her eyes. Aoi's knees grow weaker and weaker.

"I-I'm sorry!!" She cries. "Master Geto. I-I was lost!! Lost!! I didn't know wh-what I was thinking. I'm so stupid. I'm an idiot. My f-flame - Yeah!" Aoi's petite, delicate body drops to the ground. She gets on her knees and kneels low enough for her nose to press against the hardwood floor.

"M-My ailment. It's the fire. The fire w-was consuming me. M-My thoughts. Free me Master G-Geto. I promise, it won't b-be left unchecked again. I swear to you." Tears escape her nose, making her sniffle in between her words.

The cult leader's smile only pulled tighter at her display of remorse. His full menacing teeth reveal themselves for all to witness. A distorted sense of joy triggers his nerves as adrenaline pushes its way into his blood. Aoi's distress and her suffering were purely gratifying.

"Yes. Snuffing out those treasonous flames. I can do that for you, Aoi" Suguru mocks. "Any potential flame that threatens our community deserves to be smothered. For all of us."

Suguru raises his free hand and extends his open palm to face her. The moment he was about to summon a curse spirit, he feels a warm firm weight on his shoulder. He looks at the corner of his eye and sees Maeve with her hand on him. Despite the conference's unsettling foreboding energy, Maeve demeanor remains calm and helpful. The light of his soul sat beside him. How could Geto forget about her presence? Did he completely neglect the possibility of his sunshine witnessing the worst of him? Still, Maeve's warmth reels him in, presence alone with power to ground him.

Suguru begrudgingly closes his palm to a fist. A low, grumpy growl hums at his throat.

"Aoi's treason isn't to be taken lightly, however, I feel merciful today. So I ask all of you to kneel. Kneel if you seek to prove your loyalty me. My mercy is limited, so I challenge you not to spoil this rare opportunity."

A chorus of abrupt, chaotic, shuffling changes the atmosphere. Power and control was still at the forefront, but the tension and weariness from the other members morph into panic. Each of them follow Aoi's example. They scramble to their knees, palms face down above their heads, noses press against the floor.

A memory plays in Suguru's mind. Earlier within the week, Maeve had entered his study. She approached him and said, "There's no victory in making someone kneel against their will." With her words playing in his mind, he whispers to Maeve,

"This here, observe. Would you not call this a victory?"

#ofrosegold #Master Geto #Cult Geto

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lgcnina · 9 months ago

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౨ৎ ⸝⸝ 𝐇𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐈𝐍 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 , a solo.

nina has always valued her solitude, has always impressed personal importance upon finding time to be with herself when possible, lifes daily happenings otherwise leading to unnecessary stress when continuously stacked without proper moments of relief. despite her aspirations, the goals she's set for herself and the milestones she's worked hard to achieve, living a life now constantly under the gaze of the public didn't mean she wasn't entitled to her own tranquility.

sure, compromises now needed to be made more often than not, true privacy having long since become a thing of the past, but nina wasn't so particular anymore. pointedly capable, she can make do with what she's given— a somewhat free afternoon to explore tokyo, all within the company of some of her fellow female idol label mates and under the supervised eyes of a camera crew, was better than nothing.

she's glad for the group she ends up tagging along with, an excited bunch looking to explore a few of the neighboring shrines ( for the culture, of course, but also for the endless amount of photo ops nature was bound to provide under the summer suns beaming heat ).

new and unfamiliar, the few shrines they manage to visit as the hours tick by and the sun begins its descent for the day are fascinating, a sense of respectful calm permeating the surrounding areas blissfully. minutely, nina had found within herself a steadily filling well of hesitance— while this trip was undoubtedly meant to inspire enjoyment amongst its participants, content was, first and foremost, the goal. this was all being filmed, silly clips and tender moments meant to be edited, chopped up, and plastered around for netizens viewing pleasure. how honest could someone as content with their own seclusion really be when seclusion was far from what was desired here and now?

she doubted anyone would find enjoyment in watching her display her more isolating tendencies.

compromise, not just for the sake of others, but also for herself.

it's in the little things, nina has to keep reminding herself, stamp book held open as fresh ink dries, a token of remembrance. the ringing of bells, chords held loosely in her grasp as the sound echoes between the chirping cicadas. wishes written atop wooden plaques, words hidden from the camera's prying eyes, a coy grin atop ninas lips as it's hung. fortunes received, ninas planted safely in her back pocket, sentimental more than anything but still a surprising source of relief.

there's enjoyment to be found in the little things, nina understands this. so, it's the little things she seeks out, hidden in the chaos.

#✰ ◞ solos !#lgc:girlsbreaker #( another stream of consciousness type solo.... Hmmm

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woolmasterleel · 2 years ago

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Understanding the Unknown

Decided to write a little something about Pandora's first encounter with Galvarium!! Plus a bonus at the end (～￣▽￣)～ It's a little violent?? Nothing too graphic is described, but a warning just in case!

“King Romirr, this is unnecessary. I am surveying land for the new graves…”

“Nonsense, Pandora. If your work dirties your hair, I’ll just wash it again.”

Pandora sighed, pushing away the king’s advancing touch. “Thank you your majesty, my hair will surely be disturbed by the wind.”

Romirr pouted, “fine, fine. Promise me you will come right back here once you’re done.”

“No, King Romirr, I-“

Romirr gently held onto her shoulders, “never mind making a promise, that is an order.” He smiled, standing up. “Let me walk you out.”

Pandora ignored his outstretched hand, briskly walking toward the door, “with all due respect, King Romirr, I am not a queen, I am not royalty. I am simply an executioner. I dirty my hands every other day. I am not fit for your affection.”

“You are such a stubborn woman,” Romirr laughed, “of course you are.”

Pandora drove her teeth deep into her tongue, fighting the urge to argue further. Without a word, she began walking swiftly toward her place of work. She knew Romirr would never follow her to her room.

She gently closed the doors, hauling the giant iron latch down to lock it. Pandora moved to her study, piles of hastily gathered stacks of paper greeted her. She sat at her desk, flicking through her journal.

Symbols of various magics sprawled the pages. Notes on the light, the dark, angels, demons. Even the little information on eldritch species found a place among the pages.

Concepts of deities she would be willing to form a pact with flooded the book; sketches of the most grotesque entities to the most graceful of beings all had a home there. She turned the page. Her favourite page.

Several detailed sketches of a being taking a feminine form, more humanoid than the other deities featured. Pandora traced her fingers along the grand horns which crowned the being’s head, she stared intensely at the sharp eyes. The smile made her feel safe.

Pandora slowly flipped to the next page, “kill the king,” she recited. She turned the page.

“Kill the king.”

Again. “Kill the king.”

After countless pages repeating the phrase, Pandora opened to a blank page. She lifted her ink brush, bringing it down, repeating the pattern of words on pages before.

She stared at the words.

“He’s stopping me from pursuing so much,” she hissed, slamming her fist down on the desk, “I hate you.”

Not waiting for the ink to dry, she slammed the book shut, hiding it away once again. She stood, exhaling slowly, dusting herself off. She grabbed her coat, throwing it on as she left to round up her survey team.

~~~

“Men, our objective out here is to find proper disposal grounds for the executed,” Pandora announced to the group before her,” we cannot have it located too close to the ocean, so stay away from the shore. Rope off any location you deem fit, I trust your judgments. Is everything clear? There is no need to start digging today.”

The men replied in unison, “yes ma’am,” before each separating to perform their given task.

Pandora watched them disperse, eventually turning to begin searching herself.

She kicked around small rocks, her thoughts straying from the task at hand. She started off at the horizon. Why did something feel off?

She touched the back of her head. It felt as though her brain was struggling to make sense of what she was doing. She was surveying the land, she knew that, yet her mind struggled to make any sense of it.

Pandora gazed around her, all of the men had vanished from her sight. She shook her head, removing rope from her belt. She then stood still, her ears ringing.

“Uoy era ohw?”

Pandora abruptly jerked her head behind her. “Who’s there?” She demanded, withdrawing a small blade.

“Ereh suoregnad si ti.”

Pandora narrowed her eyes.

“Em raeh uoy nac?”

“I…” Pandora rubbed her eyes. “No, I must be going crazy.” She quickly scurried off toward her men, the sound vanishing from her ears. Surely it was last night’s lack of sleep causing this?

She glanced back at the area she moved from. There was nothing, no trees, no shrubs, just flat land with a sizable rock resting on the ground. She squinted.

The rock seemed to start moving, or rather, began flickering. The grey mass began to appear distorted, as did the small area surrounding it. Certainly, there was something there. Pandora did not want to stick around to find out what it was.

She tried distracting herself with surveying work. While she did manage to complete her task, she could not get those strange murmurings out of her head. Night began to encroach on the team as they rounded up to head back to the castle.

Her head was spinning. What had she seen? Or rather, heard? Pandora opened the main doors to the castle, dreading seeing the king again. Of course he was standing there, the man couldn’t even sit on his throne and wait for them.

“Welcome back!” He greeted each of the returning men, his voice so soft yet cheerful. It made her sick.

Pandora avoided eye contact, quickly moving beyond him. She ignored his calls to her.

Finally in the safety of her room, she let herself fall onto her bed. She stared silently at the ceiling.

“What was that…” she asked herself, rubbing her eyes aggressively. Pain began to set in.

She grabbed a pillow, screaming into it. It was like a massive claw was crushing her head, pain crawled all over.

She balled herself up. And the rock? Something was standing there, yet she couldn’t grasp what it was.

‘Uoy era ohw?’

The noise repeated itself in her mind. She began mouthing it.

“Uoy era ohw?”

“Who are you?”

Pandora slapped a hand over her mouth. Was that it? She threw herself out of bed and rushed over to her desk. Grabbing whatever empty paper she could find, she began writing.

“Uoy era ohw means ‘who are you’.” Her eyes lit up upon realizing, “it’s backward human speech…”

She recited the other words she heard, “Ereh suoregnad si ti… ‘it is dangerous here’.”

Then the last set, “Em raeh uoy nac?” She stared at the words, “can you hear me?”

Pandora leaned back in her chair. Whatever it was she encountered didn’t seem aggressive, rather it was curious or protective. She flicked back through her information of various deities. She didn’t have any records of beings who spoke human language backward, let alone ones who barely existed in a physical form.

No, this was something new.

Her fear was replaced with excitement. She hadn’t seen any inhuman beings since her childhood, not since King Romirr made it forbidden for anyone to pursue any kind of magic. Finally, she could have some sort of out of the suffocating pride of humanity Romirr constantly sang about.

Pandora closed her book, placing it in her inside pocket. She pulled her hood over her head, grabbed a lantern, then began her trek back out to the field. She was going to find out what was out there.

~~~

It was dark. Of course it was, it was the middle of the night. Pandora held the light up as she moved toward the rock, slowing as she reached her destination.

“Hello?” She softly called, “I apologize for running off without any words, it was very rude of me.”

“Ereh kcab emoc dlouw uoy?”

Pandora blinked. Now she felt a presence, though she couldn’t see anything. She recited the words in her brain, deciphering them.

“Yes, this land is to be used as a disposal ground, it is my job to ensure that it is fit.”

“You would come back here… in the middle of the night?”

Now the words began to make more sense. She could understand.

“Well…”

“I’ve watched countless children play around here. Yet they always run off when the sun begins to fall. I assume night is a time of danger, yet you’re here.”

“It can be, I suppose, but we don’t have any demons here… they’re not allowed to reside within the kingdom.” Pandora explained.

“And demons are the only source of danger?” The voice seemed to laugh, “angels are hardly any more comforting.”

“I suppose… who are you? Or… what are you…?”

The voice laughed again, “I asked you the same earlier, then you scurried off in such a hurry. Frightened, were you?” The voice hummed, “it is impressive that you can understand me, most find me difficult to comprehend.”

Pandora cleared her throat, “I am Pandora Gladiolus, King Romirr’s…”

The entity waited patiently, static fizzing around Pandora’s head as she struggled to speak.

“King Romirr’s…? Personal maid? Private chef? Queen, perhaps?”

“N-no, absolutely not, never.” Pandora shuddered, “n-no, I’m his executioner.”

“Oh! So you’re the one those little ones chat about.” The being laughed, “they act out such gruesome scenes… from what I gather it’s rather inappropriate for a child to know such violent happenings.”

Pandora winced slightly as static whizzed through her head.

“You know, I’ve learned a lot about humanity just from observing the ones who wander out here. They talk about all sorts of things… until they wander too close here, then their brains cease to work.”

“Excuse me?” Pandora stepped back, “you kill them?”

The entity chuckled, “no no, they simply run away, too much brain pain I suppose. I am still learning many things about your kind… given that you are here now, holding a conversation, why don’t you teach me some more? It is absolutely fascinating that you’re able to understand me.”

Pandora sighed, “I… I’m still trying to figure out what is happening… If it’s so hard for people to understand you then… what are you?”

The entity hummed, “I am neither angel nor demon, I am not a god, yet I stand above them all.” The static positioned itself on the rock.

Pandora narrowed her eyes. Were those legs? The entity seemed to slowly form its static appearance into that of herself, sitting properly upright, one leg folded over the other.

“Ever wonder why angels and demons haven’t annihilated each other yet? They very easily could, if it weren’t for my existence. How much do you know about their respective magics?”

Pandora blinked, quickly pulling out her journal, “it is forbidden to study any of it here, however… I’ve managed to learn quite a bit from the resources I was able to get my hands on. Most of it is written here.”

“Ah, that’s right… A few children have attempted to play pretend games involving languages of magic, yet their guardians scold them. I am rather curious as to why this king of yours is so stuck on forbidding anyone from learning the ways of magic… from what I have heard, and seen, angels and demons can become quite close with humans. That’ll be a story for another time, I will tell you mine first. Would you like to take notes?”

“O-oh, I would! If that is okay with you, of course.”

“Not a problem, only you will be able to read them, after all. Now then, listen closely. Not all angels or demons are happy with the existence of humanity… nor are they particularly fond of each other. Should dark magic outweigh the power of light, or the other way around, the world would be thrown into disarray. Depending on which side has the upper hand, the experience humanity feels would be wildly different. Any deity who is responsible for throwing off this balance is to have their own magic revoked, to restore the balance. That is my purpose. Any questions thus far?”

Pandora stated bewildered at the faint form before her, “so… they’re all at your mercy?”

The entity laughed, “yes.”

Pandora let out an airy laugh, “I… I had no idea… this is spectacular…”

“Would you like to know more?”

“Yes please,” Pandora lifted her charcoal.

“It may take you a moment to understand what comes next, give yourself time to understand, guide yourself to think in a new way. There exists a place which transforms deities to entities closer to humans. This place is called-“

Pandora squinted her eyes.

“Ah, I figured as much. The human brain acts to protect one’s self from unwanted info hazards. Let me say it again, tell yourself you are allowed to understand.”

Pandora nodded.

“This place is called Obmil.”

She scribbled what she heard down in her book, “say it again… I think I understand.”

“Limbo.”

“Limbo?”

The being clapped its now-formed hands, “yes! Oh how wonderful you understand!”

Pandora listened intensely as the entity described Limbo, making as many notes as she could. The pain and fuzzy feeling in her mind began to vanish the more she came to understand.

“So… you don’t have a physical form? Is that why you can’t be affected by Limbo’s environment?” Pandora inquired, scribbling down more information.

“I do not think that is the reason. On a few occasions I have assumed a solid form of existence, yet it remained unchanged. The changes the environments bring upon a deity are a result of time progressing. However you define the concept of time, I am not affected by it.”

“That is fascinating…” Pandora breathed, “you’re some sort of temporal independent entity…” she laughed, “that means his majesty cannot scold me for conversing with you.”

The entity hummed, “if it isn’t too private of a matter, I’m curious as to why he is so against you studying magic.”

“It isn’t just me,” Pandora began, “the whole kingdom. Personally, I think he is afraid of being overthrown… he has a way with words, but is severely lacking in physical strength.”

“So his rule is all through mental manipulation?”

“I… didn’t say that.”

“Oh but the way you speak of him, it’s obvious that he does not treat you with the respect you deserve.”

Pandora fell silent.

“Make me understand how he makes you feel.”

“I… I don’t know how to explain it.” Pandora lowered herself to the ground, “I hate him, he never leaves me alone, constantly whispering to me how… how much he loves me. But then he turns around and starts talking about how we don’t need to be at the mercy of angels or demons. Whenever I try to argue that knowing how to use their magic can protect us, he just…” she pinched the bridge of her nose, “he knows magic is something I want to pursue. He always tells me no. Then he thinks getting close and acting sweet will make me like him more…” Pandora sighed, “I’m sorry, I am not making any sense.”

“You are,” the being said quickly, “he is hindering you.”

“He… yes you’re right. He constantly showers me with gifts, most of which are weapons… I can only imagine it is to prevent me from going after dark or light arts.”

“I may not know everything about humanity, however…” the entity reached out a static hand, “I think you should leave him.”

“I want to,” Pandora rubbed her eyes, “I want to do bad.” She flicked through the pages of her journal. “I…”

“Kill the king.”

Pandora looked up at the entity, a familiar smile on the static-like figure.

“Let’s make a deal.”

~~~Bonus: 1 year later~~~

Pandora quietly closed the door as she snuck back into the castle. The guards outside couldn't care less about her outing, however she knew a certain someone would be waiting. She hoped he was asleep.

She turned the corner, peering out to the throne room. No sign of him. She turned around, silently stepping down the hall, towards her room.

“Late night stroll again, my dear? I can only excuse you from the curfew so many times before I have to do something about it.”

Pandora halted. She looked over her shoulder, catching Romirr’s amber eyes staring her down.

“You’re the king, you can excuse me as many times as you please.” Pandora said, resuming her stroll down the hall.

She heard his footsteps behind her, “I can, yes.” He grabbed the hood of her cloak, dragging her back into his chest. He gripped her arms, “But I am tired of you sneaking out every night. Don’t think I don’t notice.”

Pandora gripped her cloak, resisting the urge to kick him, “let me go.”

Romirr narrowed his eyes, “why should I?”

“Because I did not consent to being manhandled,” she spat. Romirr released his grip.

Pandora continued down the hall, ignoring Romirr’s presence. He continued to speak, his words simply flowing in and out of her ears. She made sense of nothing.

Finally, she reached her room. She reached for the handle, only to be met with resistance.

“Your lock was rusted, so I had it replaced.”

Pandora stared daggers at Romirr, who had positioned himself next to her.

‘If he moves any closer I’ll break his neck.’ Pandora hissed to herself.

‘I think you should do so regardless.’

Ah, there she was.

‘Thank you, Galvarium, but… no, there will be a more appropriate time later.’

Romirr unlocked the door, waiting for her to walk inside. Pandora gazed around the room suspiciously. Everything seemed normal.

“Your keys,” Romirr said, holding them out to her.

Pandora carefully took them, avoiding his eyes. Making eye contact with him made her want nothing more than to scoop them out of his head.

“Thank you,” she said flatly, turning away. She waited for the door to close.

It didn’t.

“You can leave,” Pandora raised her voice slightly.

The door finally closed, however Pandora could still feel Romirr’s eyes staring into her back.

Pandora jerked her head around, “you never come in here. Get out.”

“Pandora, are you forgetting who you’re speaking to?”

“No,” she crossed her arms, “now get out.”

Romirr’s eyes flicked around, eyeing the various axes and blades that adorned the wall. Pandora could tell he was nervous, despite his voice.

Romirr returned his gaze to her, “so you do keep the gifts I give you.”

“What else am I supposed to do with them?” Pandora carefully removed her cloak, ensuring her journal stayed hidden.

Romirr hummed, wandering around her desk, “you keep your work area quite clean. How admirable.”

“Romirr…” Pandora hissed, “leave.”

The air stung with silence. Pandora felt Romirr next to her once again, his hands holding her shoulders, “no.”

‘You have every right to kick him now,’ Galvarium hummed, ‘darling, don’t you dare let him touch you.’

‘But what if I’m exiled…’

‘So what if you are? Pandora, you don’t need this position. You can leave. We have more important matters to attend to anyway.’

By now Romirr’s grip had loosened to an unwelcome embrace.

“King Romirr,” Pandora cleared her throat, “release me. We are not lovers, never will be.”

Romirr simply sighed into her hair, “we’ve found a way to execute angels and demons, Pandora.”

Pandora felt her heart skip a beat.

“After years of simply chasing them out, performing rituals to release humans from their pacts… we can eliminate them.”

“Romirr-“

“No, Pandora, this is amazing. Finally we’re closer to being free of these deities.” He tightened his embrace, “I want you to be the one to carry out these executions, please…”

“Absolutely not.”

Romirr drew his head back, “excuse me?”

Pandora pushed her elbow into Romirr’s rib cage, causing him to stumble back. He glared at her sharply.

“Romirr I am sick and tired of… all of this! The affection I never asked for, the obsession you have with keeping everyone away from magic, this… idea you have that humans are the perfect entity…” Pandora grabbed a knife from the wall. “I’m only here because I don’t know where else I would go if I left… but I realize now I’d rather be wandering out there than being stuck dealing with you.”

Romirr stared at her, his eyes watering slightly, “I don’t understand,” he whimpered, “Pandora, we can finally live without fear.”

Pandora stared at him, “are you serious?” She laughed airily, “you, great King Romirr of Coldera, you live in fear of these deities? Do you realize how easily we as a kingdom can learn how to harness their magic to protect ourselves? Not every angel and demon wants to kill humans.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You haven’t The slightest clue Pandora. You laugh, but I’ve been protecting you from these vile creatures.”

“Protecting me? Or hindering me… all of us?” Pandora drove the knife into a nearby table, “Romirr, you've done nothing to ‘protect’ the people of this kingdom… you’re just afraid people will overpower you.”

Romirr furrowed his eyebrows, “how dare you?” He stepped closer, “after everything I’ve done for you?” He quickly seized her collar, pulling her closer to his face, “I love you, Pandora,” he whispered, “why must you reject me?”

“I do not care about your feelings,” Pandora hissed. Seemingly without control, she pushed him away.

“Pandora… let me, just this once?”

“Absolutely not,” Pandora spat, “I am done. Done with you. I am leaving.”

“But you don’t have anywhere to go,” Romirr smiled, “you know that you’re safe here-“

“Would you shut your mouth? I am sick of you.” Pandora slammed her fist on the table, “Leave me alone. Don’t ever contact me again.”

Romirr cleared his throat, “fine. If you’re going to be like that,” he stood up straight, “I order you to stay put. Tomorrow you will be escorted to the holding cells. You will be tried for committing treason.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t take orders from you anymore.”

“Pandora if you do not listen to me-“

Pandora slammed her fist into the large mirror next to her, shattering their reflections. The shards pierced her skin, blood dripped from her fingers. Romirr shrank back.

“Get out.”

Romirr swiftly collected himself. Within seconds, he was gone.

#OC #original character #Writing #Leel's stories #??? What do I even tag this #Pandora Gladiolus #Galvarium Alkaheidra #Romirr Kagami

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