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tonkatsubowl · 2 months

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truth to be told, it takes a lot for aventurine to fully trust someone, let alone loving them.

the man had already lost so much, including his own sense of self. to be stabbed in his back, to be betrayed, to be mocked and used and made fun of—he was used to it. it would take aventurine a while for him to feel comfortable being vulnerable with someone, considering he didn't trust anyone in particular.

though the man wore a gorgeous smile, wandering through the streets of penacony, it wasn't a genuine smile, but a mask he put up. expensive clothing, his beautiful countenance and the abundance of money he liked to toss around... it was just a mask he put up. it was also for the sake of his own reputation, too. especially when you were directly under diamond herself.

the main suspect of his suffering. and the cause of his success. a double edged sword that he walked upon. his own life was theirs. a mere toy, a mere chess piece to gamble with.

...but when he met you, he was confused. afraid, even. but he put up a fake smile, some flirtatious words here and there, but the man did not trust you, nor did he believe you would be willing to stay by his side for an eternity for aeons know what.

when he met you, you were kind, understanding. you were a little stubborn, too, and humorous. you never failed to have aventurine laugh at your cute little jokes, and you never failed to protect him, whether it was against the ipc's mocking him in his name, or against nightmare infested monsters that dared to consume his flesh within a dream.

he was terrified of you.

he didn't know what you were doing to him.

every time he saw you, he felt... weak. vulnerable around you. and he hated it. he loathed it. he hated everything about how you were making him feel, as though you were a curse that came to haunt him due to the sins of his past.

every time he saw you, his heart began to palpitate, his chest aching. and it got worse whenever he saw you so happy with someone else. but... maybe you were better off with someone? everyone kept leaving him, after all, whether it was death or it was simply due to some gambling... game-thing. a business transaction, even.

but you stayed.

you stayed throughout the hardships he faced.

why?

just why?

why, of all people, did you want to stay with him? a once upon a time slave, now a business man specializing in manipulation, gambling (an addiction, to put it), and flirtatious words to soothe the mind so he could win his way.

even through everything, you were still here. that was when he decided to seek out a certain doctor.

he sat across from him, forcing a smile across his lips, but the doctor could see it. the mask that aventurine donned himself with.

"you're in love."

aventurine's eyes looked up to the other, "you must be misreading your books like usual."

"you came here... to me, for your thoughts."

aventurine chuckled to himself, nervously, even.

"love? i haven't heard that word in ages."

"it is a complicated thing. especially with how you can be, gambler. a man who is unpredictable, keen to the eye, and... well, unfamiliar with the positive things."

aventurine cleared his throat, toying with the golden coin in his hand. he purses his lips, his mask wearing off for a moment.

"...now, dr. ratio, i am not doubting your knowledge and intelligence, don't get me wrong. i just don't believe that it truly is such a strange thing called... love."

the genius sighed, "you complained to me the other day that you couldn't stand seeing (y/n) talking to others, smiling and laughing. i recall that i was not assigned to be your therapist, here. the rest should be obvious, but it appears you're too stubborn to catch on... or rather, you're unfamiliar with this feeling. this term. love."

bullseye. it was as though ratio had called him out completely. for once, the gambler was silent. here, he would try to make little comments here and there, some jokes there and wherever but... the man was actually silent.

"... what do you suggest i do, then?"

dr ratio leans in, resting both elbows on his knees, eyes fixated on the gambler's own pristine eyes.

"if you are comfortable with it, move at your own pace if you wish to pursue. this is ultimately your choice. you can pursue these feelings, or you may leave it. there is no right or wrong answer, here. this all depends on you and what you wish to do. love is about being vulnerable with each other. accepting each other at their lowest. being for one another. your lover is considered to be your number one companion, truthfully."

aventurine was quiet.

"what is your gambler's intuition?"

a sigh left aventurine's lips. he stood, flipping the coin in his hand, before showing the result of heads or tails.

"...i suppose i'll make a bet with myself. one that doesn't cost money or the finest of gold and jewelry."

the genius watched as the other male got up from his seat, retrieving his sunglasses from his expensive outfit, before placing them on. "i'll make a gamble, to be specific, about this."

"then i wish you the best of luck, aventurine."

months had past, and the two of you were already in a relationship. it had been months, but the man didn't dare to tell you, 'i love you' just yet. as a matter of fact, those words were terrifying for him. what if he lost you after he said that? what if something were to happen to you? he was terrified of saying it, as he wasn't ready yet.

dr. ratio was right—he was paranoid to the bone but hid it. yet, aventurine played a few cards and decided to gamble this relationship with you, to see if it could work out. and so far, everything was well.

you were understanding, kind, beautiful, patient... the perfect partner someone could ask for.

but it also felt undeserving.

did... he deserve this love? did he truly deserve to experience the harmony that his heart fluttered to? he began to doubt. then he spiraled into a panic.

he began to sleep restlessly at night, rendering himself vulnerable to nightmares and the instability of his mind.

... but you were there, throughout all of it.

his eyes shot open, the familiar warmth of your hand gently cupped at his left cheek. he had fallen asleep on the couch, reading a long text presented to him by his supervisor, which was mainly just work and business related things. he didn't realize he had fallen asleep, and at first was confused when he woke up.

his phone was placed securely on the table, and there was a blanket draped over him. the air conditioning was turned on for his comfort, and before him was a tray full of biscuits, tea... for him to savor in once he woke from his nightmare.

"are you... alright?" you asked. "you were having a bad dream."

his eyes traveled to your voice, finding your concerned expression, his palpitating heart now steadying at an easy rate. he began to breathe, his eyes softening.

you were here, at his most vulnerable state, concerned for his well-being. he was silent, but he immediately reeled you in for a gentle hug. he was reluctant, but he wanted to feel the rest of your warmth. your head was buried into his chest, and you could hear his heart slow down. he closed his eyes, calming down from his inner demons.

"...you're okay." you murmur, brushing the top of his hair with your hands. "i'm here for you."

you didn't know much about him at all, truth to be told. the man wasn't really comfortable sharing his past with you, yet. he was a locked chest, and in order to find the key to his past, you had to be patient. time was key, but whatever demons he was facing at night... he knew you would be there.

he had doubts, at first, and always believed that he'd always be alone.

but... you were a different story.

"...thank you," he whispers onto your ear, cradling you close to his chest, "for being here."

your gaze softens, and you were silent for a moment. this was the first time you've seen aventurine like this. so vulnerable, so... reliant on you. but you were okay. because everyone has their own weakness. not everyone was perfect, and you understood that.

"... don't thank me." you say, closing your eyes, taking in his scent as the two of you nuzzled up against each other on the couch, "please don't. it's my job—my duty, as your other half, to be here for you."

dr. ratio's words echoed into his brain, reminding him of what love truly is. being there for one another, no matter what.

"you haven't been here?"

months past, and aventurine is presenting a beautiful, scenic view of penacony for you. the night sky was phenomenal, and the beautiful sounds of crickets and late night critters were no more than music to your ears. you seat yourself at the bench, whilst the gambler was walking around, admiring the view... taking pictures, even.

"i haven't, but now i am." you say, flashing a smile.

aventurine took some time off today to take you out on a date. the man had more than enough sick and vacation leave to do this for you, and it's the first time where he actually used it.

he sits next to you, admiring the night sky, and the sight of you above all else.

"it's a beautiful sight. i come here when i want to... relax."

your gaze softens, and your hand comes towards his own. digits intertwine, and you murmur something, audible for your lover's ears.

"thank you for taking me here. to your safe place."

aventurine looks over to you, puzzled.

"... safe place, huh? didn't expect to... call it that. but i guess that's what you can say for this spot. i can feel at peace here." he nods slowly, looking back to the scenic view.

"... it's a spot where you can feel vulnerable and be okay with it," you say, instantly catching his attention, "and i want to thank you for trusting me to bringing me here. i really, really do appreciate it."

ratio's words echo through his mind once more, the pad of his thumb suddenly reaching over, gently lifting your chin. he leans in, granting you a subtle kiss, in which you've returned.

"... may... i be vulnerable, once again?"

he lowered his guard, his voice coming to a whisper.

"you... can always be vulnerable around me. i want to be your safe person." you respond, in a whisper.

"..." he was silent. "i love you."

it was the first time, too, that he said such a thing to you. such strong words that let your heart skip a few beats. your face comes to a faint, vermillion flush, but you were happy nonetheless. you smile, cupping each side of his face.

"i love you too."

#aventurine x reader #honkai star rail #hsr #hsr x reader #hsr aventurine

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wttcsms · 2 years

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secrets i have held in my heart are harder to hide than i thought ; simon “ghost” riley.

pairing simon “ghost” riley x f!reader word count 2k synopsis as a last resort, ghost finds himself letting soap stay with him in your shared home. soap is understandably confused as to why there’s a pregnant young woman already occupying this supposed safehouse. content contains completely sfw, fluff, domestic fluff, soft!ghost, ghost is absolutely whipped for you & is not ashamed of it, pregnancy, pregnant!reader, marital bliss, protective!ghost, soap & ghost bromance notes takes place in the same timeline/au as this fic!

“We’re fucked if we can’t find shelter anywhere,” MacTavish, ever the optimist, readjusts the rucksack on his back before looking at the other operative with him.

He’s not surprised to find his partner’s expression entirely unreadable due to the mask obscuring the entirety of his face, save for a pair of eerily perceptive eyes.

“We can try to contact Price, see if he knows about any safehouses nearb—“

“Won’t be necessary.” Ghost cuts him off, sounding a bit irritated. “I know a place nearby.”

“How do you seem to always know where every single fuckin’ safehouse is?” Soap finds himself grumbling, but noticing that Ghost is already moving ahead, he shouts out a quick hey! and starts jogging to keep up with the man, afraid to be left behind (but secretly knowing that at this point, Ghost would never, no matter how many times he threatens to do so).

After trekking uphill for several miles and then proceeding to venture further into a heavily wooded area, secluded by tall trees and located near a large lake stands an almost unassuming cabin. The curtains to the house are open, but despite him moving closer, it turns out the glass had been tinted to the point where Soap’s unable to peek inside. He can only assume that whoever stays inside would be able to observe what’s happening unbeknownst to the people outside.

“You sure this place is safe?” Soap asks, glancing around. Sure, it’s isolated, and he trusts Ghost’s judgment, but fuck. It kind of sucks not being in the know for things as simple as safehouse locations.

“I sure would hope so.” Ghost grumbles, pulling out a key to stick into the front door’s lock. “It’s my house, after all.”

It’s silly to assume that Ghost doesn’t have a home. As a matter of fact, Soap has (many times) joked about the fact that Ghost probably lives up to his call name and takes refuge in a mausoleum in between missions. Still, Soap finds it a bit interesting to be inside the “Riley Residence” as he called it.

(Ghost just stared at him with those eyes that reflected nothing but exasperation before mumbling that he was going upstairs.)

There’s a large fireplace in the living room, and throw pillows that look soft to the touch resting on the couches. The whole entire cabin smells of something sweet, like cinnamon and sugar. Maybe looks can be deceiving; Soap didn’t take Ghost as the type of guy to burn candles in his cabin.

Then again… Ghost isn’t dumb enough to leave candles burning in his home especially if he knows that he’ll be gone for an extended period of time. How long has it been since Ghost went upstairs? He didn’t hear anything unusual, but Soap’s suddenly on high alert. Could there be someone else present? How safe is this place, really?

With one hand gripping his knife, Soap enters further into the cabin. He’s never seen a safehouse so decorated; the agents must have had too much free time on their hands when assembling this one. They even went through the trouble of adding faux personal touches to the place, like current magazines stacked on counters and fuzzy slippers left in the hallway.

(He glances at the pair of house shoes, thinking they’re Ghost’s but realizing that they’re much too small to belong to the bloody giant.)

As Soap nears what he assumes to be the kitchen, he catches sight of movement happening within his peripheral, and he’s quick to whip around to confront the intruder.

He’s met with the terrified screams of a woman, and before he can truly process what’s happening, he hears the unmistakable, thunderous footsteps of Ghost. His fellow operative’s got a gun in his hand and a worried look in his eyes as he examines the scene in front of him.

“What’s wrong? Is everything alright?”

It’s not Soap that he’s asking; instead, Ghost is immediately by your side, tucking away his gun so he can wrap his arm around you.

Your chest is still visibly rising and falling with every breath you take as you try to recover from the shock of witnessing a man with a mohawk waving a knife around in your own home. You stare at Soap, giving him a weak smile as you reassure Ghost.

“Yes, honey, everything’s fine. I was just caught off guard. I didn’t know I should have been expecting a guest.” You’ve seemed to recover quickly, and this time you offer him a real smile as you introduce yourself.

Your last name is Riley.

And while Soap prides himself on being plenty observant, he still can’t quite piece together the insanely easy puzzle in front of him. Ghost refuses to leave your side. You called the scary masked man honey. You’ve got a thin gold band adorning your left hand’s ring finger, and there’s an unmistakable baby bump protruding from the thin fabric of your nightgown.

It’s not that Soap isn’t able to realize what’s in front of him.

It’s the fact that Soap can’t believe that someone like Ghost could ever possibly have something so… normal.

A nice, cozy little home. A cute, pregnant wife. No wonder he had been so reluctant in taking the two of them here to spend the night! He’s been trying to keep you a secret this whole time.

That bloody bastard.

Ghost isn’t nearly as forgiving as you, and he’s still glaring at Soap.

“Fucking hell, Soap. I let you in my house, and the first thing you decide to do is terrify my wife. What the fuck?”

“Simon!” You gasp out, tugging at your husband’s arm. “It’s not his fault. I didn’t hear the two of you come in. He didn’t know about me because you didn’t even tell him I existed!”

“Why would he need to know? Nosy bastard’s already always in my business.” Ghost grumbles, and you slap his arm.

“I am so sorry, Soap.” You apologize on behalf of your husband (who doesn’t look the least bit sorry whatsoever). “Let me get the guest bedroom set up for you—”

“—I already did.” Ghost says, and his gaze seems to soften when his eyes land on yours and then moves downwards to focus on the baby bump. “You don’t need to be straining yourself.”

For the next few days, they lay low in an attempt to tire out their enemies or at least get them off their backs. These few days have been nothing but a series of revelations for Soap.

For example, who would have thought that Ghost has a lovely little wife at home who he absolutely worships? He’s caught the man massaging your feet, forcing you to let him wash the dishes, and Soap doesn’t even want to know the reason why the two of you so long in the shower. (Ghost would probably kill him if he ever did try to find out.)

Every single morning, the two of you cook breakfast together. He kisses you (forehead, cheeks, lips — just depends on what’s the most accessible at the moment) every time he walks by you. You’ll say, honey, can you bring me a glass of water? but he’s already making his way towards you, glass in hand, because he’s so attuned to you.

Every glimpse of Ghost’s secret domestic life feels too intimate for Soap to watch; he almost feels as if he’s intruding on a private moment, even when the two of you are doing something as simple as being near each other.

(Do you know that every time you move just the slightest bit, Ghost mirrors the action, adjusting his body accordingly so that it’s always shielding yours?)

“You look like you’ve been dying for the chance to ask me a couple of questions,” you set down a mug of hot tea in front of Soap before sliding into the seat across from him. Ghost is out back chopping firewood, and while you usually enjoy watching the way his arms flex and his muscular back just absolutely tighten up every time he hacks up the wood, you know that Soap will never get a chance to talk to you in private.

“Was I that obvious?” He grins, feeling more relaxed whenever you laugh. You’re an awfully nice person; too nice to survive in their world, and probably too nice for the city, too. No wonder Ghost keeps you tucked away in this cabin.

“I’d be more surprised if you didn’t have any questions about our relationship.”

“I guess that’s true, huh? So, uh, how’d you two meet?” Soap can’t exactly picture a teenage Ghost with a high school crush.

“He saved my life.” There’s a healthy glow to your skin; it might stem from the pregnancy, but you simply seem to brighten up even more when you talk about your husband. “You know, you were there too!”

“I was?” He takes a closer look at you, but he can’t recognize you in any of his memories. You’re certainly beautiful, and he’s sure that if he really did meet you, he would at least remember you by now.

“Don’t worry, I think Simon will prefer it if you didn’t know me at all, anyway.” Your fingers wrap around your own mug, warming up your cold hands. “Don’t let him fool you, though. He’s such a big softie.”

Soap has watched your “big softie” stab men to death quicker than he can blink his eyes. If it was a rescue mission where the two of you met, he’s almost certain that you must have seen his less-than-sweet side as well.

“You think he’d kill me if I started tellin’ everyone what a big softie he is?”

“He’d let you get away with it. You’re one of his friends, after all.”

“Wait, what?”

“C’mon, Soap. You and I both know Simon pretty well. He’s not above sleeping in the woods. He wouldn’t have brought someone here he didn’t trust. And you might not have known I existed, but we talk about you sometimes.”

“All good things, I hope.”

“It’s Simon.” You say, simply shrugging. “I’m sure he saves the worst for when the two of you are face to face.”

“Has he ever taken the mask off with you?”

You beckon Soap to lean forward just like you, and with your elbows on the table and both of you with your heads low, you whisper conspiratorially, “I take it off for him.”

The two of you are still laughing when Ghost walks in.

You pack both of them lunches before sending them back on their way, waving farewell from the front door, one hand resting on your stomach. You and Simon already had a private sendoff; away from the prying eyes of your visitor, Simon kneels down to give a gentle kiss to your belly, staring in wonder as he feels the slightest kick in return.

“Be a good boy for mommy,” is what he whispers before returning back to his full height. It’s hard to hug you with all his tactical gear getting in the way, but he’s stubborn.

Walking out the door and leaving you and his child behind is always hard. You tell Soap to come back any time (Simon’s stare told him that that invitation would not be valid under his watch).

Soap promises he will, and Ghost just has to respect that because he’s already been kind enough to turn a blind eye to the obvious longing in Ghost’s eyes as he leaves you.

“So, Lt., tell me. I must be your favorite, eh?”

“Favorite what? Pain in the fucking ass?” Ghost retorts. The two of them have a long walk ahead of them.

“Am I the first on the force to meet your girl?”

Ghost’s silence is confirmation enough.

“I knew it! I am your favorite on the force.”

“Shut up.”

(Ghost doesn’t necessarily dispute the claim, though.)

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #fluff #one shot #drabble #modern warfare 2

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ddejavvu · 8 months

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Can i request a hot interrogator but w spencer😭😭and he recognizes her symptoms of attraction and theyre both just so awkward and derek or someone else has to come in and save him

i deviated from your plotline just a teensy tiny bit and it's not as focused on how they both can read her but it is mentioned! i hope that's alright <3 also i did tag this with morgan's name because towards the end he's teasing her just as much and i'd fall to my knees for him in an instant so i think that's fair

You give yourself away immediately with your reaction to seeing Spencer walk in. You don't know it, but the doctor has been watching your demeanor for five minutes on the other side of the glass, and only when your eyes met his own did you become tense.

Before you'd been almost bored, but not in the overconfident way that criminals often are. You were more restlessly bored, drumming your fingers on the table and peering intently at the graffiti etched into the metal surface.

When he steps inside you straighten to greet him, but words fail you as your throat runs dry. The most handsome man you've ever seen, something straight out of a romance novel steps into the room, and something thuds to the pit of your stomach.

You're not guilty but you feel it, you feel like a criminal under his scrutinizing gaze.

"Hello, Y/N," He offers, smiling measuredly at you, "I'm Doctor Spencer Reid, I'm here to question you on what you might have witnessed earlier."

You'd been in a gas station during an armed robbery. The robber hadn't shot you, but that was only for time's sake, as putting a bullet through your chest would have taken away valuable seconds that he chose instead to use rushing out the back door and away from the sirens out front.

You'd been at the business end of a gun, but still you're more panicked now, hands lowering themselves into your lap when they show signs of trembling.

"Can you remember what the shooter looked like?" He asks.

Brown hair.

"He had brown hair," You speak for the first time since the agent's entry.

No he didn't.

He had blonde hair. The man in front of you has brown hair, tucked behind his ears endearingly.

"Or- uh, blonde. He was blonde."

"Blonde hair," He nods encouragingly, his lips a warm pinkish shade as he sits down across from you, "That's good. Do you remember how tall he was?"

Spencer is tall. He's tall even when seated, like he is now, his stature surely intimidating when compared to your own, and you blink the thought away, trying to recall where on the shelf beside him the man's shoulder had come up to.

"He was a little taller than the shelves," You recall, keeping your eyes on a rather crude word etched into the metal tabletop to keep yourself from ogling Dr. Reid, "Maybe 6'1."

"Alright, good." Spencer praises, and you feel your limbs actually melting, surely mush by now. He hesitates, placing his hands atop the cool desktop, "Y/N, I'd like to do a cognitive interview with you."

You wait for further explanation, but when it comes, you guiltily wish you had been killed earlier. Because if you were dead Doctor Spencer Reid wouldn't take your hands in his own, and tell you to close your eyes in a smooth, low voice.

"I want you to put yourself back there," He prompts, squeezing your hands gently, "But I'm right here. I know you must have been scared in the moment, but I need you to help us with this, and try to remember what his face looked like. Can you do that?"

You can't muster words, but you nod, and evidently Spencer's eyes are open to catch it. He squeezes your hands again, "Alright. You're standing in the gas station. You're getting breakfast before work. You hear shouting, then a gunshot. Where do you look?"

You look at the backs of your eyelids, desperately willing away the mental image of Spencer Reid's face.

"What do you do?"

You pray that he's not a mind-reader, that he can't hear the words 'adorable' and 'terrifying' and 'perfect' all at once.

"Y/N," He prompts, after a moment of your silence, "What do you do?"

"I can't-" Your eyes snap open, and you wrench your hands out of his grasp, "I'm- I'm sorry, I can't do this."

Spencer's hands come out to hover in front of him, a placating gesture but one that doesn't work.

"Okay, that's alright. But please- sit down," He watches warily as you stand, heading for the door like you're exiting a cafe and not a secure government facility, "Y/N, I need to ask you a few more questions-"

"Woah there," The door opens before you can reach it, but the man that shoulders his way through shows no sign of letting you out. He's tall, darker-skinned than Spencer, and broad chested, something you really don't need to think about after the hand-holding fiasco.

"We can't let you leave just yet," The man smiles sympathetically, and his hand comes to rest oh-so-naturally on your bicep as he turns you back towards the table, "I know you're freaking out; anyone would after looking into the barrel of a gun. But you're safe now, okay? And we need your help to keep other people safe. So let's sit down," The man guides you back into your chair, and you think you might have dropped straight to your knees if he'd asked you to. He keeps his large hands firmly, warmly on your shoulders, and as Spencer takes your hands in his again he squeezes them.

"Alright Pretty Boy," The man behind you speaks, and you swear you can hear a glimmer of amusement in his voice despite not being able to see his face, "On with the interview. Don't worry Y/N, we'll do this together."

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid one-shot #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid headcanons #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid hc #spencer reid hcs #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid dialogue #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader fanfiction #derek morgan x reader

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souliebird · 2 months

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[[and then I met you || ch. 17]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to not only protect his new family from Hell's Kitchen, but from the world.

pt: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16

Words: 4.3k

ao3 link

banner thanks to the wonderful @theradioactivespidergwen

“No.”

Minnie plants her little feet firmly on the sidewalk and pulls her hands out of your and Matt’s grips so she can make her point by crossing her arms over her chest. A pout starts forming on her face and you have the feeling this is as far as your daughter will be going.

Across the street looms Clinton Church and you can understand why your daughter does not want to go anywhere near it. The building is as imposing as it is grand with its traditional architecture half shadowed in the morning sun. There is light reflecting off the many windows, casting little glares that you are sure Minnie can interpret in multiple ways - including eyes looking down at her.

Try as you might, you can’t imagine what else your little one must be picking up from the building. Is there someone praying inside? Or chanting? What sort of terrifying noises is the building making? How many rats are scurrying around the grounds, hissing and eeking and becoming unseen monsters?

How many real monsters are there?

Right now, the only monster you know of is the one in your chest named Anxiety. It is roaring inside you and causing all sorts of ruckus.

You know Minnie can pick up on your upset, and it is probably influencing her, but no amount of breathing exercises or chamomile tea is going to relax you.

Meeting someone’s parents is always going to be nerve wracking under any circumstance - but meeting the mother of the man who fathered your child? Who already has a unique and slightly estranged relationship with her son?

Frankly, you’d rather give birth again.

To make matters worse for your over analyzing, Matt's mother is a nun.

You have never interacted with a nun before, and your mind has been nonstop screaming that you are going to make an absolute fool of yourself. You are convinced you are going to say something dumb - like Jesus is stupid or some other blasphemous thing.

You don't even know what counts as blasphemy, but you know your mouth will find a way to make you want to sink into the floor and disappear forever.

You are on the same page as Minnie and don't want to take another step toward the Church.

“No?” Matt questions, tilting his head down towards his daughter. He looks a bit baffled, like he can’t understand why she’s taken such a stance. You know he is nervous about the meeting as well, having told you such earlier, but you don’t think he realizes how much his nerves, on top of your own, are affecting Mouse and her fear of the new big building.

“No.” Your daughter repeats, giving a tiny stomp of one foot to emphasize her point.

“No, what, sweetheart?” He kneels down to be on the same level as her, but you have a feeling that isn't going to help much. Minnie has made her decision and trying to sway a determined, upset toddler is a near impossible task.

“I don't wanna,” she tells him, her voice starting to get whiny. She turns away from him to press herself into your leg, her pout growing even bigger.

Matt knits his brows together, confusion clear, “You don't want to go to the park?”

Technically, you are supposed to meet Matt's mother in the Church park that is between the main building and the orphanage but as far as you are concerned, all of the grounds are Church. Apparently, your daughter feels the same.

“No. I don't wanna,” she declares, which quickly turns into the chant of, “I don't wanna, I don't wanna, I don't wanna!”

You can feel the tantrum coming and intervene, scooping Minnie up and hugging her to you. She instantly clings to you, burying her face against your neck with an additional almost screech of, “I don't wanna!”

You start to gently rock her from side to side and rub at her back to try and soothe her. You kiss her hair and promise, “We don’t have to go, baby. It is okay.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, you feel like a grade A asshole.

Matt’s face crumbles into heartbreak and you totally deserve to walk into traffic. He had opened up to you about his mother - about how she had left him as a baby only to end up raising him after his father had been killed - but not telling him who she was. He told you how he only recently learned the truth - less than a year ago - and how hard it was for him.

But now he had you and Minnie and maybe, just maybe, you could all learn to be a family together.

Anxiety overdrive kicks in and a potential solution tumbles out of your mouth, “What if we go somewhere else instead? Somewhere we’ve been before?”

Matt lifts his head up at you, so you see yourself in his glasses, and for a second you think he's going to argue - insist you go to the Church playground - but then he tilts it towards where you don't want to go. You don't know what he is listening for, but after a moment, he stands again. He steps closer, a hand going to sit on your waist and trapping Minnie between the two of you. She stays nestled against you, little fist tight on your shirt, but you find yourself breathing a little easier at his touch.

“Would the office be okay? Foggy is out meeting clients and Karen is at the Bulletin today, it will just be us.” He offers quietly. Relief washes through you at the suggestion - you think the office would be a much easier meeting place.

But it is not your decision to make. You gently bounce Mouse to get her attention and ask, “Do you want to go to Daddy’s work?”

She doesn’t respond right away, but you feel her twist your shirt in her hands. You can tell she is thinking over her answer, so you wait, trying to focus on your daughter instead on how firm Matt’s hand is on your waist. It takes about twenty seconds, but Minnie finally nods into your shoulder.

“Okay, We’ll go to Daddy's work.”

To reward her for being so brave, you press a kiss to your daughter’s hair and Matt quickly mimics you. Minnie clings tighter to you at the affection and you think she is going to remain tense and upset until you are far away from the Church.

“Okay. Wait here, I'll go tell Sister Maggie about the change in plans,” Matt tells you and you wonder if it is really okay with him.

You know you and Minnie meeting her is important to Matt, but is the location important as well or is it just convenient? You are too wound up to ask and fearing you won't like the answer, you keep your mouth shut and focus on rocking Mouse.

Matt gives Minnie another kiss as he tightens his grip on you just slightly. It isn’t painful, but you get the impression he does not want to let go. You want to lean into the touch, your overactive mind telling you it might be nice if he never let you go, but before you can process those feelings, he is pulling away and crossing the street.

You step to the side, so you don’t impede foot traffic, and watch as he navigates past the cars and disappears around the side of the large building. Once he is out of sight, you look down to your daughter.

You want to ask her why she doesn’t want to go to the park at the Church, so you can better understand how she sees the world, but you also don’t want to put too much pressure on her. She’s already clearly upset, and you think trying to get her to answer your questions will just make things worse.

So, you focus on making things better for her.

“Would you like your headphones, Minnie?”

That gets her to lift her head up to look at you, squinting like she’s trying to determine if this is some sort of trap. Eventually she gives you one curt nod before hiding her face again.

You are a pro at being able to maneuver to get into your purse while carrying a toddler and soon enough you are handing over neon blue headphones. She needs no help in unfolding them and situating them over her ears, and once they are on, she snuggles herself back into your arms. You have no issues or complaints with the action - you simply begin to rock her again and hope this mood subsides once you are at Matt’s office.

You think about ways to get Minnie to interact with Matt’s mother as you wait for Matt to reappear. You think this might be the perfect time for parallel play - you’ve got a few coloring books stuffed in your purse, along with some small toys. You think it may be best to let her do her own thing while the adults talk, and that she comes over when she’s ready.

You hope that Sister Maggie understands that would be ideal - you know she helps to raise children, so she must understand that some kids are shyer than others. Pushing Minnie to interact when she’s fussy will only result in tears.

Possibly your own.

A few more minutes pass before Matt returns to the sidewalk followed by who you assume to be his mother. She's dressed in a gray and blue smock dress and matching habit, which is far less intimidating than the all black look you were expecting. She has an air of authority about her, holding herself tall as she walks, and you have the feeling she is a no-nonsense person.

You pray to a God you don’t really believe in that this meeting goes better than you fear it will.

You move to meet the pair as they cross the street to you and offer what you hope to be a warm smile. The smile, though not as overtly friendly as yours, is returned and Matt does the honor of introducing you. You adjust your hold on your daughter so you can shake the woman's hand.

“It's a pleasure to meet you, Matthew has told me wonderful things about you,” Sister Maggie says before directing her attention to her granddaughter. “And who might this little one be?”

To no surprise to you, Minnie attempts to burrow into you more at the question, smushing her face hard into your neck. You rub her back, trying to let her know everything is okay.

“This is Minnie, she's a little shy right now.”

Sister Maggie gives a knowing nod, “New places can be intimidating.” She drops her voice just slightly, in what you guess is an attempt to be comforting, and addresses Minnie, “Did your father tell you this is where he grew up?”

He did - you and Matt explained the outing to your daughter, but you don’t know how much she understood. You do know no amount of sweet talk will change her mind, even if it is about her new favorite subject - her Daddy.

“I don't wanna go,” Mouse mumbles against you defiantly. You aren't sure if Sister Maggie can hear her, but you know Matt can. He steps forward, once again boxing in Minnie between the two of you and leans down to kiss the back of her head.

“We're not going there, princess. We're going to Daddy's office, remember? You've been there before,” he whispers into her hair. She shifts around in your arms a bit before giving another nod. You can feel her jutting out her bottom lip against your neck and part of you thinks you should call this all off and reschedule - but you aren’t going to do that to Matt.

Sister Maggie is watching your little family’s interaction, and you can’t bear to look in her direction to see what her reaction is, if she has one. Your anxiety has only prepared you for the worst.

“Perhaps we should start heading that way instead of saying where we are not going,” the nun advises after a moment and instinct and rational has you agreeing with her.

“I think that would be best.”

Matt pulls away from you and Minnie and you watch with downcast eyes as Sister Maggie offers her son her arm. He seems hesitant to take it, but he does, and your little group starts moving away from the Church and towards Nelson, Page, and Murdock.

The walk is quiet and you use the time to try and desperately calm your nerves, if only for the sake of your daughter.

You think about Matt and what kind of person he is - he is full of love and care. He got those traits somewhere, and whether you argue Nature or Nurture, Sister Maggie has certainly influenced that. Did she encourage his Goodness? She must have had some sort of positive influence if he is not only wanting her to be in his life, but his daughter’s life, as well.

You know some people believe family comes before anything, even if they treat you horribly, but you also know that if Sister Maggie was not a Good person, Matt would not allow her near Minnie.

He wouldn’t risk losing his relationship with his daughter.

That is something you have no doubts about.

As you arrive at Matt’s office building, Minnie lifts her head up off your shoulder. She wrinkles up her nose like she’s thinking hard before pointing to the plaque that state’s the firm’s name. You give her a warm smile, proud of her for recognizing it, but that only makes her squirrel away again.

This is the behavior you are used to seeing from your daughter in public - overly shy and not wanting to interact. You aren’t sure if the nerves and uncomfortableness from the church still linger, but you hope that once you are upstairs, she will start warming up a little. You won’t push her to do something she doesn’t want to do, but for Matt’s sake, you would like her to at least try talking to her grandmother.

Matt leads you all into the building and up the stairs. Sister Maggie runs a finger over the banister as you climb the stairs, giving a pleased hum, “Franklin did an amazing job cleaning this place up. Tell me that nose of yours helped in getting rid of all the mold.”

Matt huffs at the comment, “The property manager hired someone to come do that.”

“And did they get it all?”

Matt’s mouth presses into a thin line and you already know the answer.

“No, we spent a weekend getting the rest of it.”

You stop in front of the Nelson, Page, and Murdock office, and as Matt fishes out the key, you look up and down the hallway, mulling over what is implied.

“You cleaned the whole building?”

“Oh no, we couldn’t get permission from the other businesses to do that, but we did what we could to the public space and our offices. People feel comfortable here now.”

The door is opened and as you all file in, Matt suggests hanging out in the conference room. It has a nice window and plenty of space to sprawl out, so you have no objections.

You set Minnie down as Sister Maggie and Matt head into the other room. She instantly clings to your leg, practically hiding behind it. You pet her hair a few times before pulling her away just enough so you can kneel down to talk with her. As soon as you are at her level, she is trying to get into your arms again.

You let her hug onto you as you let her know what is going on, “Hey Mouse, do you remember earlier when I told you we were going to meet Daddy’s Mommy?” She nods but says nothing, so you continue on. “That is her. She wants to talk to me and Daddy and you and get to know us so she can be part of our family, too. But you don’t need to talk if you don’t want to, okay? I have your coloring books and you can color while we talk.”

That gets her to pull back just a hair and peek up at you with big brown eyes, “What are you gonna talk abouts?”

You smile at the question and gently run your hands over her back, “All sorts of things, but we’re going to end up talking about you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you. If you don’t want us to talk about you, you can tell me, okay? We’ll talk about something else.”

“But I don’ gotta talk?”

You nod, and let your bag fall off your shoulder. Minnie’s new zoo themed coloring book and crayons are easy to pull out and you offer them to your daughter. She lets go of you to greedily take her toys and hug them to her chest.

“You don’t need to talk,” you confirm. “Do you want to sit at the table, or do you want to sit on the floor?”

Minnie considers the question, and you take advantage of no longer being hugged onto to stand up. Your little one peeks towards the conference room, then back up to you, and declares, “I wanna sit on Daddy’s lap.”

You feel so much pride over your daughter making such a bold decision.

“Okay, let’s go ask Daddy if you can sit in his lap.” You know Matt would never deny her, but you do want to drill in making sure Minnie asks permission first.

She waits for you to lead the way before following you into the conference room. Matt and Sister Maggie are sitting opposite each other, and Matt has already scooted his chair out and is holding his hands out to help Minnie into his lap.

“Daddy!”

She hurries to him and gets scooped up and crushed into a hug. She hugs back best she can while holding her coloring book.

You take the chair beside Matt and finally allow yourself to look at the nun across from you. She’s watching Matt and Minnie with an almost unreadable expression, but there is something soft behind her eyes - like she’s been keeping it repressed for years.

But then she catches you looking, and the softness is gone, replaced by that All-Knowing Nun look you’ve seen in movies before.

“How old is she?” Sister Maggie asks, and you can’t help but flush at her directness.

“Almost four, her birthday is on the 28th,” you reply, forcing yourself to not completely avert your gaze and hideaway.

She raises her brows before turning her sharp gaze to Matt, accusing him with, “You did not mention her birthday was coming up.”

He has the decency to look a little bit ashamed, “There were a few other things to cover, first.”

The older woman shakes her head, “Priorities, Matthew. I may be new to being a grandmother, but you know well I have raised plenty of children and we have never skimped on birthdays. We may not always have the money to spoil someone, but we do well to make sure they know they are loved.” She looks back to you, “Do you have plans for the day?”

“Oh, um, the zoo. We’re going to go to the zoo,” you tell her.

Beside you, Minnie has slipped down into Matt’s lap, so she is sitting. She has started to flip through her coloring book, examining each picture before making her decision about what to color. At the mention of the zoo, she quietly mimics you, “Going to the zoo.”

Matt breaks into a smile at the words, looking proud as can be that Minnie spoke around his mother. He wraps his arms around her middle and you have the feeling he wants to crush her to his chest again but is resisting.

Sister Maggie seems to know Minnie isn’t speaking to her, but just in general, and keeps the conversation to you, “That sounds like a lovely birthday. Zoo trips are always a delight with the kids.” She tilts her head slightly to the left before continuing on, “Matthew said you do not have a support network.”

“That isn’t what I said!” Matt quickly says, before turning his head towards you, “That isn’t what I said.”

Sister Maggie scoffs, “It is what you meant, and it is not a bad thing. You more than anyone know what it means to have a support network. Now,” she says your name gently and offers you a somewhat kind smile, “You are welcome to come to the Church and use any of the services we offer, and you may come by anytime you need, day or night. We will always have our doors open for you.”

You stare across the table as you process the words she has said. Shame and embarrassment course through you at the idea of Matt talking about you. You know you’ve never really had anyone to turn to, but the thought of others discussing such matters makes you want to crawl into a hole and cry. Yet, on the other hand, the mere offer of being welcomed at the Church has you spiraling in all sorts of good and overwhelming ways.

But of course, instead of being thankful, the words that tumble out of your mouth are, “I’m not religious.”

“That changes nothing,” she says simply and somehow, sits up straighter, “I have been given a second chance to know my son and through this a blessing of a granddaughter. I will not run from these responsibilities again and -”

“Daddy,” Minnie suddenly says, cutting Sister Maggie off while pouring all her crayons out on the table, “Pick a color!”

Matt’s cheeks turn pink at the interruption, and you try to not slide down in your seat. You know you can’t expect your daughter to sit there quietly, even if she’s being a little fussy, especially if Matt is around. She’s a toddler.

Matt clears his throat and asks, “What colors are there, sweetheart?”

“There’s green, and blue, and purple, and red, and orange, and yellow,” she lists off, holding up each crayon as she does.

“Let’s go with red.”

“Okay!” Minnie picks up the chosen crayon and begins to carefully start coloring in a gorilla.

Since she spoke up on her own, you try to engage with your daughter to bring her out of her shell, “Can you tell Daddy what animal you’re coloring?”

You expect her to answer happily - after all she loves explaining things to Matt and she’s been learning all her zoo animals.

So of course, she does not do that. She whips her head around to look at you, and with the sternest little voice you have ever heard, barks out, “I don’t gotta talk!”

Your first instinct is to laugh at the outburst, but you bite down on your lip to control yourself. The urge passes quickly, and you decide you should praise your daughter for setting her boundaries, “That is right, you don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. I’m sorry.”

She narrows her eyes at you for a moment, clearly judging you, before turning back to her artwork.

Only then do you allow yourself a chuckle.

To your surprise, Sister Maggie laughs as well. “Well, she is certainly a Murdock.”

That gets your attention and you and Matt both let out a curious, “Oh?”

“That little glare was all Murdock. I have seen it so many times from Matthew, who got it from his father,” she says and there is almost a fondness in her voice. “I expect the hands on the hips pose is genetic as well.”

Your eyes go wide at that. Matt’s father has never been brought up in depth before - you read the news article about his death in an online archive, and he was almost brushed over when Matt told you about his mother. You assumed, like your own parents, it was a sensitive topic.

“I..didn’t know that,” Matt starts slowly, and you can practically feel the emotion bubbling inside him. Without considering it, you reach across the small gap between your chairs and take his hand, squeezing it. He instantly squeezes back. “I don’t remember him ever doing that.”

“I suspect he tried to not let his frustrations show around you, but it is something I remember clear as day - Jack with his hands on his hips, glaring at the refrigerator because it dared to lose power during a blackout,” Sister Maggie tell him, before she motions to her eyes, “They may not be the same color, but that look is the identical.”

The room goes quiet, save the noise of Minnie scribbling. You keep your hand around Matt’s, trying to communicate you are there for him in his love language. He starts to roll his bottom lip between his teeth, and you wait for him to react before you do.

“You…,” Matt starts after a few more moments, voice almost warbling, “don’t talk about him. You don’t talk about him like that - what he was like.”

“Yes, well, I’ve never had reason to,” Sister Maggie says. She places her hands on the table in front of her, clasping them together, and she looks like she is about to give an interview. “But that has changed, clearly.” She looks from Matt to you, “Matthew said you were looking for family history. I do not have much from Jack’s side, but I can tell you what I do know, and I keep my own meticulous records. I believe reviewing these things, medical and non-medical, together, will…help us heal.”

You look to for his reaction. His mouth is parted, and he looks like he is going through his own emotional rollercoaster. You know how important family is to him and how dear this information must be to him, so you make a decision.

You lace your fingers with his and smile at Sister Maggie and ask, “How did you meet Jack?”

“Ah, yes, now that is a colorful story…”

a/n: maggie is v hard to write

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@petrovafire39 @allllium

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@starry-night-20 @rebeccapineapple @writtenbyred @cherrypie5 @capswife @silvercharacterchaos @resting-confused-face

#soulie writes #fanfiction #daredevil #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x reader

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bedoballoons · 9 months

Note

Hello, could i request a Jealous! Lyney who has yet to confess to reader who receives gifts and letters during valentines day?

Awwwe valentines day!! One of my favourites because it's so lovely! Thank you so much for your request and I hope you enjoy <3

─⊰⁠⊹ฺ✿𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤⊰⁠⊹ฺ✿─

{༻~Valentines from all but him~༺}

CW: Lyney gets jealous! Confessions and reader is well liked by many!

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

𑁍༄Lyney:

You stood there in shock as the mailbox spilled its contents onto the ground, absolutely overflowing with candies, love letters and even a rose...which was more like a group of random petals after being crushed by everything else. By the looks of it you had probably received almost thirty confessions...maybe more and you took care picking each one up, even the petals despite the fact you'd most likely wouldn't reciprocate their feelings. The least you could do was be kind about it.

Meanwhile, Lyney stood next to you...doing his best to keep face while you smiled at all the cutesy letters and blushed at all of the gifts you'd received. If only he could have confessed before valentine's day...then you wouldn't have received any letters at all because the two of you would be dating, or at least he hoped you'd be dating. Currently he was just your friend, a friend who was so desperately in love with you that he got jealous from little love notes. "My you've sure got a lot of confessions, are you...interested in anyone in particular?"

You set all the mailboxes contents in your bag carefully and smiled at Lyney, if only he knew you were holding out hope that he might like you they do..."Oh, well I suppose there is one guy I like alot...." You blushed slightly, wondering if maybe it was a bit to forward...or maybe not forward enough?

"Who?" Lyney felt a little sick upon hearing you liked someone, it was like his chances were getting slimmer with every second, at least if he knew he could compare himself and see if he could win you over...maybe he could show you some of his prototype magic tricks he'd never shown anyone else or rearrange the stars, he knew whoever you liked couldn't possibly do that.

"I cant tell you that!" You panicked, you couldn't let him find out you liked him, it could ruin your friendship...and you'd loose one of the most incredible people you'd ever met. "I mean...sorry I'm just not ready to share that yet. I really want to know he likes me back first..."

Lyney bit his lip, this was truly a dilemma...you liked someone and he didn't know who, he had a confession all ready for you, but he didn't want to upset you by being to forward...but he also didn't want to never try, then his eyes meeting yours for a moment and he just...couldn't let someone else have you, "Please, don't hesitate to tell me no...but I...I have a gift for you as well."

"What?" You felt your heart skip a beat, the world was suddenly spinning...you had dreamt of this and yet it didn't feel real, no you should stay calm, what if it was a platonic gift, but then again who gives platonic gifts on valentine's day?! You felt like you could explode...

Lyney reached into his pocket and pulled out paper butterflies that flew all around you... sprinkling heart confetti everywhere until the biggest of them landed in your hands... unfolding to reveal a letter...

To my dearest,

I must admit...I've written this letter at least a hundred times and I've just never had the confidence to give you it till now...I know, hows that possible when you're able to put on shows in front of thousands of people and put yourself in crazy situations that could have dire consequences...

Well none of those things terrify me as much as the idea of loosing you as a friend...but keeping my feelings to myself...I can't do it anymore. Maybe this is selfish of me...maybe you won't want to ever speak to me again..but I'm hoping I can convince you...to feel the same...

In truth, I've loved you for so long that I don't know if I could ever truly not love you now, you're everything I could ever want and so much more. So beautiful...that even now as I write this I'm having to stop myself from getting lost in my thoughts about you...

I could go on forever, but this letter has already gotten rather long so...I'll just say what I've been meaning to..

I love you.

-Lyney

You'd never read anything like it, nothing had ever come close to having so many feelings behind written words and you had to reread it a few times to actually make yourself believe it was really for you...that Lyney had really written it. "Lyney...I don't even...know what to say. I don't think I've ever felt anything close to this before..."

"It's perfectly fine if you don't accept-"

You cut him off with a hug, tears rolling down your cheeks from all the wonderful emotions you just couldn't control..."I do accept! I accept your feelings with all my heart Lyney, archons I love you so much, i-im so happy!"

He didn't know how to respond to such good news...so he just hugged you back, letting what you had just said sink in. This was...everything he had wished! "I love you too"

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚Have a nice day*⁠.⁠✧

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin headcanons #genshin fanfic #genshin x reader #genshin x you #lyney genshin #lyney x reader #lyney x you #lyneyfluff #lyneyhcs #lyney headcanons

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tarjapearce · 8 months

Text

Crimson Crown (Pt. 5)

Royal AU! Miguel O'Hara x Reader

Special thanks to @pinkiemme for this amazing cover ❤️✨

WARNINGS: Mentions of poisoning, awkward flirting, privacy invasion, mentions of character's death. Unresolved sexual tension, Unrequited sexual tension.

Summary: As danger looms in the horizon, a new objective is set in mind.

A/N: Didn't feel that well, so poured myself into this thingy ~ Hope your like ✨

Prince Gabriel approached today, I must say, there was something odd about his apology. Not in the disingenuous way but rather a more sudden and brazen one. The kind of way that leaves you confused.

He apologized, yet I wouldn't like to encounter his drunken self ever again.

Miguel blinked to read the next paragraph.

Odd things keep happening. The king has requested my presence today, Unexpected as it was, he is awaiting for me. I won't deny I dread this little encounter, hopefully this meeting brings me a little peace.

Everything seems to be happening at such speed is quite absurd.

He flipped the page with a sigh.

I've met the king where he instructed. And once more he manages to surprise me in such way I am... aghast. I'm still debating if it's a good thing or more of his political side taking over.

He said I was no stranger. He acknowledged me! I know this might sound preposterous even, but I'm glad we can settle for something more than strangers that occasionally have lunch together.

His words convinced me that he cares deeply for his people. Never in my life I've met someone that shares my vision for my future kingdom. It pleases me deeply. He is wise and I'm glad I am able to have such visionary on my side.

Oh...

He blinked as his mouth gave a shaky and surprised breath. His heart stirred in a pleasant feeling. It was odd and that terrified him. His heart was trying to settle a beat according to an specific emotion, but all of them mutinied and sent his brain into a brief override.

"Are you done invading her privacy?"

Miguel glared at a mirthful Jessica.

"This is the only way I can get some direct information."

"About yourself?" Her brow quirked with a little deadpan.

"The kingdom."

"Oh yes, the kingdom, of course."

Miguel rolled his eyes with a shake of his head and resumed his reading.

I was awaken today by the clashing of swords. The king was practicing some sword fighting with his brother. And now I can understand why he is called The Red King, or The Dragon's Claws in Onerim.

That was definitely a new nickname.

He wielded a sword in each hand. His technique is unique, precise and so deadly if one would be a tyro in the arts of combat. Even though it was a practice he didn't held back.

I cannot describe the feeling he... stirred within me. May God forgive me for such volatile imagination.

His lips curved in a smirk.

"Flip the page."

Jessica's voice made his eyes snap up at her. She was away in her spot.

"You'll get extra patrol."

"Ohh, what did you read?"

"Si si, ya. Cállate, me interrumpes." (Shut up, you're interrupting me)

The power the king holds in his garden is... beyond me. How could he just accept things without looking into it? A bit reckless considering mostly of the plants he owes are either poisonous or quite medicinal. There is no in between.

Peter seemed concerned for the safety of the people that take care of the gardens, must admit his reaction was laughable.

But to my horror, tragedy attacked. There were many injured, but the king concerned me the most. I know his men are dear to him, but he shouldn't neglect himself. Not when he had a deep wound that could end up in a serious infection.

He allowed me to help him. He gave me a chance to prove him how worthy I could be. Hope my efforts didn't go unnoticed.

They didn't. How could he forget about your doting fingers working on him with such expertise, he barely felt any pain. He flipped the page.

Was I too straightforward when I said I admired him? He seemed uncomfortable even told me to see someone else as a role model. He's quite hard to read sometimes.

He's always frowning or scowling. Should I stop trying to approach? Even if we know our duties, I wouldn't want to be at odds with him.

But right now, my mind wanders to my father. He is ill, and I must visit him. Hopefully the king will understand.

Miguel exhaled. His shoulders slumped, and he rubbed his face. Once again the questions assaulted his mind, yet wandered towards your family.

So far they seemed good and they were keeping the promise. The economy kept thriving and so far none had complained of any trouble in the West Passage.

He put the diary back in it's place and left your room. The lovely smell of rich violets had been long gone. You had left a day ago. Nothing had changed except his inner turmoil regarding your safety.

Not that he didn't trust his men. Peter was more than efficient, Gwen was capable despite being young, just like Hobie. And Webslinger was more than seasoned. You'd be alright. You had to.

He left your room with Jessica tailing behind him.

"One day you'd have to tell her that you've been reading her diary."

"Probably she'd end up poisoning me."

"And you'd die a happy man."

Jessica chuckled as he was about to protest.

"Do you miss her already?"

His shoulders tensed and slicked his hair back.

"How is the east frontier gateway doing?"

"Holding up as it should"

He nodded, "Any complains?"

"Negative. The mutinies have been controlled and the leader has been arrested." Jessica rolled her shoulders to ease some tension, "It's the second mutiny regarding a rebellion we've encountered this month."

"Do you think it's a pattern?"

"It better not. Rebellions although used for higher causes, always bring second hand intentions. With enough fire and ignorant people, it can be dangerous."

His nose flared, frustration simmering in his heart.

"Sometimes I do wonder if I'm doing a good job as a king."

"You can't keep everyone happy, Miguel."

"I know. Still I'm doing everything I can yet it's never enough it seems."

"It won't be for those who aren't satisfied. You're a good ruler. And if this keeps happening, we'll handle it. Like we always do."

"Thanks."

"Besides, you have the Princess now. You said she shared your ideals, hold onto that."

"Might as well invite her for a hearing in a council."

"Don't listen to those old people, they are nothing but square thinkers."

"As long as their interests aren't threatened, the princess will be alright."

"We gotta see her temper as well. Oh! can you imagine her being like you? The scandal!"

"You're enjoying this too much."

"Of course I am. You're worried about something else that isn't the kingdom for once."

"She said we're acquaintances."

"Better than strangers or people that see eachother as something convenient. Does it bothers you being only that with her?"

"It's not that. Wouldn't want to be on her bad side either. You know I don't trust easily."

"You're still seeing if you can trust her?"

"Of course. That's why I read her diary. Her thoughts are truthful."

"Whatever works out for you, I guess. As long as you remain truthful."

----

Your carriage stopped in the outside of the castle. Your mother and Lucille already awaiting. Peter opened the door for you as you stepped out.

Lucille rushed to hug you.

"I've missed you so much!"

The queen joined in a heartfelt reunion. Peter and the rest followed you inside.

"My dear. You have... no idea how much I missed you."

The queen gave you a kiss on the forehead and a hug.

"How is father?"

"Stable. Come."

Peter stood behind you, paying a keen ear to the conversation.

"What happened?"

"A poisoning attempt."

Your hands covered your mouth and the queen squeezed your shoulders.

"And by none other than his beloved mistress. That wretched whore poisoned him once he refused her whims."

Your jaw tightened upon hearing the things that came out her mouth. Another reason to abhorre them. Not only they had meddled with your parent's marriage, but now one had tried to kill him.

Peter saw you tense, now having a wider perspective on why you were so upset regarding them. Understandably so.

"Tell me she is dead."

Peter blinked at your words.

"I assure you this ain't the first attempt she tries. Remember when he suddenly fell ill by an everlasting raving? The whore had diluted datura and henbane on his drink."

"As much as I'd love to handle her treatment personally, I shall go to see the king. Lucille, Peter please come with me."

Peter gave the rest a sign call to remain put as he followed. You were on your element, and it showed as you gave turns around the castle, like muscle memory.

Lucille separated to go to a lab-like room as you walked to the king's chambers.

Guards saluted you as you entered. Heart sinking at the sight. Your father laid on bed, pale due sickness, lips devoid of color, eyebags dark and sagging thanks to the little sleep.

"Oh no. no. Please leave!" You dad whined but you held his hand soothingly

"How could you ask such thing when you're fighting for your life?"

"Who is this man?"

"Commander Peter B. Parker. From Arachne."

"You've already gotten married?"

"No. Not yet."

You soaked a rag on the water next to him as the damage was assessed.

"From all the things you could've done, was to anger a woman that is power-hungry."

"Please, child-"

"You know how that... Sarina is."

"She's just angered, but she will come to me. I know so. This is just a quarrel -"

"Father."

Your voice was stern, laced with anger, yet you kept wiping his sweat.

"I'll have her executed for murder attempt."

The king groaned and sobbed.

"In my time, none went above me. And look how things have changed, ser!" Your dad looked at Peter, trying to get him to reason with you. He just gave an awkward smile.

"It's beyond me how can you keep defending such... woman after everything she has done to you. You might tolerate it. But I do not."

You stood and went to the little medical station that was left either by Lucille or another doctor. Hands ground some herbs as Lucille brought a pot of boiling water.

" You don't know her like I do."

"Oh, my apologies dear father, but anyone that attempt to kill me in the name of love must surely be a lovely person"

Peter just remained watching, until you called him while stirring a goblet with a steamy green concoction.

"Hold the king." You instructed as he blinked stupidly.

"Beg... your pardon, your majesty?"

"Please hold the king's hands. I will give him his medicine."

"If you dare to touch me, I will have-!"

"You barely can keep your own head up, father. Stop it."

Peter sighed and held the king's hands firmly. His skin cold, clammy and waxy. Your father whined like a child as you made him swallow the potion, green and thick drops of the brew rolled down his chin. His face contorted in a repulsed one at the strong and sour taste.

"Thanks, Peter."

The Commander stepped away and let you work. You seemed used to your father's antics at this point, and so was Lucille.

"Now, if you excuse me, I must talk to the queen."

"Your mother refuses to talk to me, child."

You rolled your eyes.

"Understandably so. You can't expect people that love you be happy for such repetitive behavior. Much less with someone that brings suffering. You're lucky if she doesn't makes you watch that woman's execution."

"Sarina has done nothing but to bring joy to my life!"

Sighing you shook your head.

"My God... why men must think with their groin?! How can you so blind, father? You've hurt my mother with your little childish affairs." You took a deep breath, "You're a king. An old one, mind you. Behave like one."

Your voice laced with anger. A warning tone.

-----

As day passed, Miguel poured himself into work. The reports of Rhino sure had decreased, the villain so far knew to keep a low profile, which was odd. It was against the rouge's nature to be so quiet and cunning, unless someone else was with him. And that meant trouble.

Sighing for the millionth time, Miguel plopped on his chair. One that had to be custom made for him, and then, slicked his hair back. Sometimes he wanted to pull his hair out due the strain he was constantly facing, and other times he really wanted to just punch something or someone.

He was sure that if that desperation would be a human or something tangible, he'd not only punch it, but would try to make it through the same suffering it was making him endure. His heart beat faster and he clutched at his chest. A few deep breaths was enough to ease his irregular beatings.

He closed his eyes and relaxed his body. His fingers rubbed on his aching eyes. He had been sleeping less and less, to the point of having random yet unwilling naps and waking up tired and sore.

His neck popped as his spine cracked back into place and grunted like a rusty machine. His mind tried to empty itself, gravitating towards your soft and warm fingers on his aching skin. It was the closest someone has ever been touching him in a non threatening way.

Your fingers felt like silk sliding down his upper body, A gentle caress from the wind, a soothing touch in aching bones. Balm to his bleeding body.

Soft caresses on his face and hair turned real, palpable even. Like if his thoughts were taking shape and were now massaging his scalp with such softness it made him groan. He was surely losing his mind, but the touch was so soothing and slumber inducing that he remained still, slowly melting into the caresses. They reminded of yours.

Had you returned already?

His nose was filled in with a scent he wished to have long forgotten eons ago. His eyes frowned as the too real dream now delivered fluttering kisses up and down his neck. His scent strong in myrrh and herbs.

"Hello there." The feminine voice snapped his eyes open and sigh.

"Leave."

"But you seemed to be enjoying it, Miggy."

Dana's voice purred into his ear which he quickly shook off with a disgruntled sigh.

"I said leave." He nearly growled and that made her stop, only to kneel before him, spreading his legs, her hands roaming over his clothed inner thighs.

"I've seen your new toy. Even though she is quite the looker, it makes me wonder. For how long you'll play until you break her?"

Miguel's eyes darted to her as she placed little kisses on his hands. He quickly removed them off her lips, annoyed, earning him a giggle.

" I know you. You like playing rough until your toys can no longer amuse you. But I'm still here, Miguel."

Her fingers roamed his injured arm gently, but even so, Miguel winced. Her touch felt soiling yours.

"Did she heal you, my love? How sweet of her to keep you in good shape for me." Her hand hovered over his groin but he quickly grabbed her by the wrist. "How long has it been since we had some pillow talk?"

"How brave of you to prowl when she is gone."

"I am generous to spare her a bad time, by seeing me coming out of your chambers. Isn't that nice of me?"

"¿A poco si?" (Are you?) His face went blank

"Oh, Miguel. You mockery has turned soft. Just like you. I wonder if it's by that little witch influence."

"Witch?"

"I'd be careful around her. She knows too much." She sat on his lap.

He quirked an eyebrow without amusement. Stoic as ever.

"Follow your own advices, querida."

Dana widened her eyes slightly as she seized him with an undignified stare.

"You wouldn't allow her to do so such thing."

He shrugged and pushed her off his body gently, a cue for her to move but completely missed it.

"Who knows? I might feel bored and in dire need of amusement one day if you keep testing my patience. I said leave."

Dana stood with anger as he growled.

"We are on the verge of war and you suddenly start being all moronic and stupid over a pair of pretty eyes. She has been washing your brain! "

"The prettiest I've seen, indeed." He taunted.

"You are mine. And I do not share. Much less with a witch! For all I know she could've already poisoned your drinks!"

Miguel gave her a smile that didn't reach his eyes and approached her.

"Is that so?" Her lips smirked as she bit her lips. Miguel took her by the chin.

"You don't like sharing?"

Dana shook her head and gasped as Miguel cornered her to wall, hand still gripping her chin. A grip that turned borderline painful as he kept squeezing.

"Tell me, dear Dana." The octave lower tone he pronounced dear made her gulp, "Do you see a ring on your finger?"

"She doesn't have one either."

"Yet. The difference between you and her is that she will. You won't." He spat. His smile long gone as he scrutinized her face. "We share a vision. You and I? A bed many months ago."

Dana growled but yelped as Miguel patted her cheek a bit too roughly.

"You don't love her" She taunted with a smirk, trying to swallow the painful stabs his words provoked her.

"What makes you think I love you instead?"

Something dern slithered in Dana's eyes.

"I am not in the mood for your stupid games and hysterics. Not now, not today, nor ever. Entiendes? Stay away from her and my affairs." (Understand?)

Dana stole a kiss, leaving a little wound in his lips in the process, a desperate way to mark him. Miguel snarled and took her by her arm then shoved her out of his chambers, slamming the door in her face. Rejecting her completely.

Little did Miguel know on taking Jessica's warning words at heart.

A scorned woman holds such wrath even you must learn to be wary of.

Dana left, her thinking gears turning and moving. Miguel would learn, whether he liked it or not. He was hers. She licked his blood off her tongue.

-----

"I apologize you had to witness that. My father... Is like a child once he gets bedridden.

"Do not fret over it, your highness. I've seen and done worse than that."

You chuckled as you walked through the gardens, checking on your roses and herbs.

"I always forget to ask you, ser Peter... Has the king been always this serious?"

"Even as a kid, yeah. His father trained us together."

Nodding your fetched a basket and then asked for boiling water to one of the nearby servants.

"Was he as ruthless and bloodthirsty as people say?"

"Ruthless, yes. He is when it comes to protect the kingdom and people he holds dear."

"But?"

"There is no buts, Princess. It is as it is."

"He loved the slaughter then?"

"Not to that point, but he wouldn't hesitate in ending someone's life if it was a threat. As little as it seemed to be."

You nodded and pulled two black roses along some berries to then put it on a kettle.

"What has changed?"

"He got tired of the bloodshed. And so Arachne. So we strive for the peace, wars leave nothing but destruction and broken families in their wake. "

"But?"

"We won't hesitate to wield our swords again if we are called for duty."

Nodding, you poured a cup for yourself and another for Peter.

"Sit." You instructed as you added honey to your tea, "We grow these for our women. In Theleria, fertility rites are quite sacred."

Peter eyed the simmering flower, the hot blend slowly turning into a subtle red-ish hue.

"But for men, it's just another drink for energy boosting" You smiled, "Thelerians are avid tea drinkers."

"Not my business to prey in, but... You're to kill that woman?"

"The Queen is. Can't pry away that from my mother. My people found out she is mingled with King Fisk's men. And thanks to her influence on my father, my kingdom just lost a couple more lands to him."

The tea's flavor blooming so sweetly in your mouth. A stark contrast in the sourness of your words.

"I don't like mistresses for that exact motive. Sure, love can be displayed with them, since royals get together to secure territory, legacies and the like, nothing more nothing less."

A sigh.

"I truly wouldn't want for the king of Arachne to fall under the same curse we have."

"Care to elaborate?"

"Some of our past kings have had a fair share of mistresses. And all of them have had a favorite that for some reason, turn out to be calamities."

Another sip of your tea, "I'm aware that such position influences greatly in a king's judgement. Sadly our past kings thought with their groin." Your eyes stared off at your drink, "And little by little they engaged in wars that costed our kingdom greatly."

"King Miguel is wise enough to not fall under such things."

"Not to underestimate his reasoning, but these women are cunning. You don't see them coming until is too late."

"Princess. I promise you, it's not the case with the king. Please, don't waver your faith in him."

"I will trust your word, ser."

Peter nodded with a solemn nod.

"How... -"

"Will the Queen dispose of her?"

Shrugging you finished your tea

"That is up to her. One would think that my mother would enjoy this, be satisfied even, but little do people know is that she is in pain."

"Pain?"

"Indeed. She never managed to get my father's love entirely, as it was an arranged marriage as well. And after my brother's passing it turned worst. My father's behavior I mean."

Peter sipped his now warm tea, for his surprise it was mellow and sweet tasting.

"He shut himself off from everyone. My mother specially. But with that woman, he seemed a different man. Even I was a fool to believe their supposed romance."

You ate a little candied flower before speaking again, trying to sweeten your mouth after the acrid words.

"It's not easy for her to get rid of my father's source of... twisted joy. But her treason to this kingdom weighs more than a heartache."

"If you were in this position-"

"I am, somehow, ser. And I hope I never meet them."

Peter's lips pursed and nodded

"Would you proceed like your mother?"

"No. I'd step away. There is no business for me to do in that situation. Can't get in between two people that seek eachother."

"I see"

"Why?"

"Just thinking. What if it's a one sided thing?"

"I'd need you to be more specific on that, ser."

"What if the king doesn't partake anymore in such activities, but the other... part, seeks him?"

"Still. Why would he keep them around to begin with, if he has no intention of such activities?"

You sighed once more, "It's more complicated than that, ser. I know that King Miguel has had concubines or mistresses before. But it's confusing."

"Confusing?"

"I'm not one to be authoritarian, and I know it's tradition for you and the rest of the continent. But in my kingdom, mistresses are... heavily frowned upon."

"May I ask why?"

"We value, respect and cherish those whom we decide to share our lives with. Adding someone else in the picture would not only make our partner feel unworthy."

You wet your lips after much talking, "But rejected even, a clear 'I do not need you nor want you'. My father was the fourth king in following such wretched customs."

"Do you feel disrespected, your highness?" Peter tried carefully, and your eyes casted down.

"I'd be a liar if I say I don't, even though prince Gabriel apologized. But customs are customs, I suppose."

Peter could only sigh, disheartened. Naturally he'd had to inform back to Miguel, however your words had opened a new perspective to him. He could now understand why you were so upset about how everything displayed.

Still, the drunk habits of prince Gabriel weren't appreciated.

"Wander the city, have some fun while you're here. I am to remain whitin the castle anyways. Must prepare my father's medical dosage and then I'll have some tea with Lucille."

You stood and left, cutting him short before he could reply.

-----

In the end, the execution of Sarina was a quick beheading, once the king had enough color on his cheeks, you were set to go. With a heavy heart you said your goodbyes to Lucille and your mother, who you had shared the past events.

"If he keeps causing you pain, return. We'll find a better solution. I will not tolerate you to end up like me."

She had said, comforting you at her best. Gwen, Hobie and Webslinger had toured the city with the help of Lucille. They carried some souvenirs back at work. You on the other hand, had been keeping your attention at your needlework all your way back to Arachne.

It took you two days to arrive, three and a half to stay and another one and half day to arrive. A whole week.

The scenery had changed, the might and grandeur welcomed you with open arms once more. Calling you, demanding your presence at the castle as red eyes settled on the window, watching from the horizon at the door, expecting; preying.

His eyes lit up with keen interest as your carriage stopped within the porch. Peter helped you out, Gwen and Hobie followed you as Webslinger returned to his post.

Peter arrived minutes later, a turgid expression painted in his face. Miguel didn't know if to feel worried or even more distressed.

"Report."

"Hello to you too, pal. Glad to see your sour face again."

Miguel exhaled deeply, begging for patience to heavens.

"Hello, please report."

"What happened to your lip?"

Miguel's jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed.

"Then I am not speaking."

"Ah que la chin-... Mira, Parker no estoy para juegos." (Fuckin sh... Look, I'm not in the mood.)

"Neither am I. So you better speak up. What happened?"

"Dana happened. Alright? Now fucking speak."

"You absolute cheater"

Miguel's eyes widened in anger at his words.

"Whatch your fucking tone, Parker."

"I give two flying ducks who you are right now. You slept with your mistress again? While the princess was gone?"

"Funny for you to think I have the time for that. I didn't. She barged in my chambers, told her to fuck off and she bit me instead."

It was Peter's turn for his eyes to widen as Miguel spat his words angrily, nearly seething.

"You should definitely put that rabid dog down. Why do you keep her around if you aren't engaging?"

"Because..." Miguel sighed, " Because I know what that...pinche zorra is capable of." (Fucking whore)

"Kill her then."

"No."

Peter deadpanned, "You've killed for less. You've killed other mistresses before!"

"No. Still, is not easy to get rid of someone like her. You think I don't want her out of this place?"

Peter sighed and removed his gauntlets.

"Everyone warned you about her."

"You act as if you weren't young and stupid."

"I told you, Jessica told you, even your mother that didn't like anyone warned you about her."

"I was nineteen! I had just been crowned."

"And now you see the consequences of spoiling a pet too much."

Sighing, both friend's fumes dissipated, Peter face grew somber as Miguel pinched the bridge of her nose.

"She feels disrespected."

"Who?"

"My hen."

Miguel quirked an eyebrow to him, confused.

"The princess! She explained a bit of her customs and yeah, it makes sense for her to be upset about Gabriel calling her a concubine."

"She's still upset about it?"

"Rightfully so."

Peter explained the conversation he had with you. The king's health, the motive of said illness, the execution; Lucille and your customs. As Peter spoke Miguel's face changed into many emotions. Confusion, anger, discomfit and a hint of sadness.

"That's pretty much about it."

Miguel chewed at the insides of his cheek and gave an exhausted groan.

"No puedo más. I... No puedo."

Miguel wanted to rip his hair out, or scream until his voice was raw. Instead he stood.

"I'll be right back. Tell Jessica to bring in a new dose."

The king left his office, he'd receive the reports later, his steps guided him to your chambers. he entered albeit unannounced.

"My goodness!" You squealed and quickly secured the robe that laid loosely on your shoulders and legs, around your body. Cheeks flaring.

Miguel turned around to give you some privacy while picking his palm with his nails.

"My apologies, Princesa."

Smooth and supple skin was engraved into his mind. He cleared his throat.

"It's... It's fine. Didn't expect your visit. I am dressed."

A shame.

A little part of his brain screamed as he glared at none in particular for such thought. He turned around and you were fumbling with some things inside a little wooden box.

Your face lit up, when pulling out a piece of fabric with an intricate embroidery design. It was Arachne's and Theleria's emblem, woven together in the richest threads colors he had imported.

You stepped closer and offered it to him.

"A gift for you. I cannot express my gratitude enough for allowing me to see my family again, my lord."

"You did this?"

The fabric felt soft on his calloused ones, he was marveled. He'd never had enough time to indulge his own desires and hobbies as they were long gone forgotten and replaced by countless hours of work.

"In my spare time. Been planning on making this for quite a while. And now that I've finally finished it, it's yours."

You placed the thing on his hand and smiled

"Do you like it?"

"I do" He smiled gently, "Thanks. You're quite skilled in this."

"Thank you, ser."

A pregnant pause fell upon you both. Eyes squinting at the broken flesh of his bottom lip. Your fingers examinated it gently. It was a bold move considering you had only touched him once before, but he didn't seem to mind.

"Are you alright?"

A sudden adrenaline rush came to him. His mouth went dry at the sudden proximity you had created between the both. You couldn't help it, the healer in you always took over whenever seeing a wound.

"I injured myself." He lied and his mouth felt dirty, his heart gave a doleful beat as you frowned in concern.

"If stressed, lavender will relax you. Would you like me to prepare some for you?"

"It's alright. Just a stupid injury."

"I differ, but this one isn't that bad."

"Is the king better?" He quickly segued between topics and nodded with a smile at his question.

"He is. My mother and Lucille took a great care of him. I just added the finishing touches to his health."

"What about the Queen?"

"Oh? She is alright. Thanks for asking."

"Do you miss them?"

"Dearly. But my duties remain here. They will be fine."

"I'm glad you made it back. Unscathed I mean."

"Thank you."

Again, he cleared his throat at the uncomfortable silence.

"Is there anything else I can help you with, your highness?"

"I'd like to introduce you to the council soon, we'll have a meeting someday this week. I'd like for you to attend."

"Oh? Sounds like I should prepare myself."

"You'll do just fine."

"Even though I am scared, I will be there. I'll take it as another chance to learn from your kingdom."

Your eagerness about something new always made his eyes soften.

"I will let you rest, Princesa."

He took your hand and kissed the back of your palm. Your cheeks burned again.

"Have a good night."

"You too, my lord."

As Miguel left, his hands caressed and scrutinized the fabric. Your dedication shown in the pristine weave. A red skull spider like symbol surrounded by a wreath of roses.

A symbol of your future union. And now it was all his. He was glad you were home unscathed, that you saw your family and friends. But Peter's words had caused such effect on him that humbled him right away.

He wasn't aware of your customs, never really took the time to take a look on it. Which costed him a big time of his trust. He had disrespected you without knowing, and it was all up to him to fix it properly.

The thought of Dana touching him made him feel greatly repulsed. Touches that he once got lost in, were now selfish yanks and pulls that suffocated and irked him. Contrary to yours, that not only healed, but treated him with respect.

You didn't pressured him into things. You understood his motives, and how his time was used. But still, after reading your diary, he knew he also had to make an effort to keep you included and not sought after just when the conditions demanded your presence.

Exhaustion finally took a grip on him, he just removed his armoring and clothes, too quanked to even remove his shoes, limbs too heavy to keep moving. The bed under him creaked by his weight and for once in a long while, Miguel followed Jessica's advice and went to sleep early. No bad dreams nor ill heartbeats hunted him.

-------

Taglist:

@tayleighuh @obi-mom-kenobi @allysunny @nxrdamp @a--dedicated--fangirl @rin0r1na @queenofroses22 @sofi786 @murnsondock @okayiamkassandra @kimmis-stuff @ceoofmiguel @meeom @handsomeprettytoes @ladymoztaza @chiikasevennn @mxtokko @gabrielarose29 @oooof-ifellforyou @minalovesyoubabes @kikisstrawberrie @know-that-its-delicate @aikoiya @st0r-fruit @ittybxttykxttytxtty @local-mr-frog @liidiaaag @berlinswifey @eepybunny0805 @vonev @cheerrioeoz @solesurvivorjen @zaunsin @ange-grayson @peachsteven @kdrosebme @geraskier-thots @rjasmin2021 @yehet-moi-ohorat

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #royal au #king miguel #Crimson Crown #dana d'angelo #jessica drew #peter b parker #t writes✨

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flowerandblood · 8 months

Text

Rip my heart, heal my soul (2)

[ Jack the Ripper • modern!Aemond x female ]

[ warnings: sex content, smut, angst, stalking, mention of murder and body mutilation, control obsession, trauma ]

[ description: Trying to find happiness in a relationship with the girl who has taken over his heart and mind, Aemond must face problems and a disease that poisons his head. Additionally, nothing sinks forever and one of his crimes is discovered by the police. Murder, mutilation of his victims, obsessive, poetic, dark!Aemond. ]

This chapter was created at the request of fans as a continuation of the oneshot of the same title, which you can read here: Rip my heart, heal my soul

Aemond Inside Alphabet

*English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy!*

My others works: Masterlist

_____

He wasn't sure if any holiday had ever passed for him so quickly. Ever since he'd met her, ever since he'd come to her room, ever since he'd promised himself that it was over, that he was going to change, it had felt like the night of his life had finally dawned.

They saw each other practically every day.

Even though he felt like not letting her out of his arms when he woke up by her side in the morning, that he felt like just lingering in the embrace and entwining of their naked bodies, looking endlessly at her peaceful sleeping face, playing with her hair, mussing the skin of her arm with his fingertips, he knew he had to do it.

Every day was like a battle with himself, with his weaknesses, breaking out of his habits, out of his worst nightmares.

Every day when they got dressed, when he had to go to work and she had to run her errands, he felt trepidation in his heart, thought only of the fact that he would never see her again.

That somehow she would find out about what he had been doing for years.

That she would meet someone else, someone better on her path, someone she could fall in love with.

That he would do something to hurt her or discourage her, try to control her too much and ruin everything.

For a few hours after their separation, he thought he was just dying.

And then the afternoon would come, and she would walk into the café where he worked, smiling and happy, telling him at the counter about what she had done and where she had been, about the new article she was writing, about what they needed to read or watch this time, and he was unable to concentrate.

She had come back.

She still loved him.

He wanted to cry.

He was afraid to tell her about his fears, afraid that then she would realise how fucked up he was, what chaos was in his head, how dangerous he was, and then exactly what he feared would happen.

He looped himself in the prison of his thoughts, catching himself looking at her when she spoke to him, when they sat in her room with the wine they drank from the bottle, talking about literature, about films, about people, about life, watching her facial expressions, how interestingly upturned her slender nose was, how soft her lips were.

He knew that when she disagreed with him, her eyebrows crinkled slightly, the corner of her mouth twitched and her eyes narrowed, when she was excited or happy a sudden flash passed through her gaze, her pupils dilated and watched him expectantly, a wide, sweet smile crept onto her cheeks that she couldn't contain.

When he was sad or worried she would lower her gaze, often playing with some material lying beside her, glancing at him surreptitiously, warmth and boundless understanding in her eyes.

She would tell him about her imperfections, about what she thought she had done wrong in her life, about her conflict with her grandfather and her intimate relationship with her brother, about the fact that her parents did not want her to study literature but medicine.

She told him about how, as a child, she was afraid to sleep alone, imagining from a young age that she would open her eyes and some stranger would stand over her and hurt her, that she would be terrified and afraid, but no one would hear her.

As she told him this he would look at her with his lips clenched on the verge of crying, almost falling to his knees in front of her, confessing to her that he could not be with her.

Instead, she ended up in his arms, naked, and he sucked and licked her lips, caressed her beautiful body with his mouth, whispering to her that she was safe, that she would never spend any night alone again, that if anyone tried to hurt her, he would protect her.

And then he slid into her, into her hot, throbbing body, always so incredibly moist and ready to take him inside her.

They made love to each other painfully slowly, stretching their fulfilment to the limit, to the edge of pain, and came at last violently, completely, looking at each other with lips parted and foreheads pressed together, panting hard, stroking each other's faces.

"So kind. So warm." He whispered to her, placing light kisses full of devotion and tenderness on her cheeks warm from the exertion. "So wise. So beautiful."

The natural progression of things after that was that he couldn't pull away from her body, their skin as if clinging to each other, his arms embracing her, snuggling her face into his chest, and she huddled in his embrace as if in the safest place on earth, full of confidence, his cheek nestling against the top of her head, his hand weaving into her hair, the other trailing down her bare back, putting her to sleep with the calm, repetitive motion of his fingers.

In that moment, as they fell asleep in each other's embrace, he was at his happiest.

He was at peace.

She was in his arms, safe.

When she twisted or wanted to change position he would open his embrace only to close it again, adjusting to her, snuggling into her from behind, non-committally, almost anointingly placing his hand on her soft breast, focusing on the way her chest rose and fell with each breath.

She was alive.

Since he'd been around her, since he'd spent every night with her, he hadn't killed anyone.

She was the first girl he had had sex with more than once. What's more, he'd never done it before in such a way, so tenderly, with such care, a need for comfort for himself and for her.

It had gone from something dirty, filthy and disgusting to a form of his greatest devotion and desire, a sense of wanting to be just inside her, just with her.

Her moans were not in his ears an animal howl, but the sweetest, most innocent sound he had ever heard, as if she was almost suffering from the pleasure he was giving her, and he had to comfort her with his lips, whispering between kisses down her throat that just a little longer, that he would let her come soon, that she knew he would never leave her unsatisfied.

He would then give her what she needed and she would melt beneath him, her lips parted in a gesture of total surrender to the heat that was rippling through her body in waves, she would turn her face away, unable to look at him in such an intimate, private moment, helpless.

He would catch her cheeks and thrust his tongue between her lips again, kissing and licking her with a loud click as he finally filled her with his seed, hearing her sigh of relief.

He had fallen in love with her.

When he realised this one evening, looking at her, he became frightened and stopped listening to her, staring at his hands, playing nervously with his fingers, sitting next to her on her bed, leaning against the windowsill.

She was just telling him about her professor, whom she liked very much. She fell silent at some point, seeing that he had closed in his mind again, and touched uncertainly his arm.

He felt goosebumps as her fingers ran over his bare skin, his body involuntarily reacting to her closeness with desire.

"What are you thinking about?" She asked quietly, looking at him uncertainly, her hand trailing up and down his arm slowly, reassuringly.

He was unable to look at her.

"I need to tell you something."

He felt her freeze at the tone of his voice, heard her swallow hard, knowing for some time that something had been bothering him, asking him about it several times without getting any meaningful answer. His heart was pounding like mad.

"I'm not a good person." He muttered, quickly burying his face in his hands for some reason bursting into sobs, terrified, feeling that he was shaking all over, that he was about to lose her, that he was about to go mad again. "God, I've done terrible things."

He felt her looking at him, hushing him, stroking his hair soothingly, embracing him, kissing his ear, pressing her nose to the side of his face, he could smell her wonderful, pleasant scent.

"Do you think I can bear what you want to tell me?" She asked quietly, in a whisper, as if she was afraid someone would hear them. He felt himself freeze all over, his heart pounding in his chest like mad. He opened and closed his mouth, hesitant, terrified.

"No."

He was answered by a long silence that seemed to last an eternity, her fingers stroking his hair thoughtfully.

"Then I don't want to know."

He swallowed loudly, lowering his hands, looking at her shocked, not believing she had said that. They looked at each other for a long moment, in her eyes warmth, pain and some kind of certainty he didn't understand.

"You don't understand. I did something very, very bad." He mumbled in a trembling voice, as if trying to make her realise that he wasn't talking about owing rent, breaking someone's arm or robbing someone.

He was killing women and gouging out their eyes.

He sliced them with a cleaver and packed them in black bags.

He would take them far out of town and throw them into lakes.

It had to come out sooner or later, someone would fall on the trail, find the trace and the rest would fall apart like dominoes.

"I don't want to know. You promised me you would protect me. How will you protect me from the consequences of what you want to say?" She asked, and he covered his mouth with his hand, running it over his skin, his eyebrows arched in an agony he'd never felt before, he felt like his whole body was twitching.

"I knew from the beginning. I felt it when I saw you for the first time. Just like when I read the Black Cat I went back to continue reading the book knowing that I would be scared, knowing that the darkness was waiting for me there. When I met you I knew, I knew from the beginning that something had happened in your life, something terrible that I don't want to know about." She muttered on the verge of crying, touching her fingers to his cheek as if he was made of fragile glass about to shatter in front of her, her eyes red from the tears, warm, filled with affection and pain, her lips trembling as she spoke the words.

He stared at her in disbelief, breathing hard, and after a moment they both threw themselves into each other's arms bursting into loud, helpless sobs.

She knew.

She felt who he was.

She felt who he was and she let him into her life anyway.

Into her heart.

He had sworn not to tell her and that if there was any danger of her finding out from another source, he would make sure it never reached her ears.

If up to now he had thought he loved her, if he had been crazy about her, she had now become in his eyes some kind of goddess.

That night it was she who cuddled him close, stroking his head, his hair, his shivering body, whispering that it was all right now, that he was brave, that she knew he wanted to tell her, because he really loved her, that he was afraid of losing her, that everything would be all right.

Knowing that she understood him, that she knew what he was afraid of made him suddenly feel some kind of intoxicating relief.

As the end of the summer holidays and her return to university approached, they both began to contemplate what to do. He was ready to drop everything for her and go after her, knowing that he would find a job easily and that working in a coffee shop was no great feat.

They decided to give it a try.

They searched the internet for a bedsit together deciding that they would settle for anything for the time being, so they lay on her bed with his laptop, searching the classifieds.

He made sure he thoroughly cleaned his laptop of all remnants of his past, as well as his flat. He checked it several times, remembering his promise to her, and left his phone and his laptop with her without fear.

He trusted her.

He trusted her like no one else.

Never in his life had he felt such satisfaction, such fulfilment as when they spent their first evening in their new home together.

They arranged their clothes in the wardrobe, their books on the shelves, their plates, their mugs, hung pictures and photographs, everything was shared, everything was theirs.

They made love that night panting loudly, finally not having to hold back in front of her other roommates living next door, and caressed each other completely naked as she sat on top of him, rising slowly up and down, filling herself with him, looking down at him with parted lips, stroking his scarred cheek, once in a while placing a kiss on the eyelid beneath which was his artificial eye.

"So beautiful." She whispered tenderly, and he felt his cock pulsing hard inside her at her words, desperate, so in need of fulfilment. "I desire you so much."

He kissed her greedily, locking his lips with hers, moving inside her more aggressively, feeling that if she kept talking he would just cum inside her, and he wanted her to come on top of him, to feel her orgasm on his cock, the pleasure flowing through her body.

"− c'mon − my little girl wants to come with my cock inside her, hm? −" He gasped and she nodded quickly, looking up at him in despair, rising and falling on him faster and faster with the loud, sticky click of wet skin hitting skin.

"− I know − I know, baby − c'mon, your boyfriend needs to fill ya −" He breathed out, pressing his thumb to where their bodies met, finding between her folds the place of her hidden delight, she moaned helplessly as he began to massage her with circular, sure motions, pressing her forehead against his, her walls began to tighten on him.

"− yes − God, please − please − please −" She cried out loudly and came with a sweet sigh of relief, tilting her head back only to snuggle her face against his cheek again.

She squealed when he changed position suddenly, throwing her onto her back, grabbing her thighs in his hands and starting to fuck her furiously, panting loudly with her, ignoring her pathetic whimpering from overstimulation, her hands trying to push him away to no avail.

"− shhh − I know, baby − just a little longer − m' close −" He growled out and squeezed his eyes tightly shut, breathing deeply, feeling his seed fill her hot insides. He leaned over her with difficulty, feeling that his body was soft and numb, and placed a messy, light kiss on her lips, to which she responded with a sigh of delight.

He felt like he was in a constant state of panic when he had to leave for work and she was going to class. All he could think about during this time was her, what they were going to watch or read when they got home, what he was going to make for dinner to make her happy, remembering to pop into the shop on the way to the flat to buy her favourite rolls so she could have them for breakfast in the morning.

Nothing made him feel better than messages from her. She asked him not to text her during class so she could concentrate and he respected that, albeit with great pain and suffering, all the time checking his phone to see if she had had a break yet.

He smiled under his breath as he saw her message, recalling the situation from the day before when one of the female customers didn't understand the intent of the espresso.

If he had been a person before he met her, before he was with her, perhaps he would have done something to her, but now he was surprised to find that he was indifferent.

The opinion of strangers no longer mattered to him.

He thought sometimes with regret that perhaps if he had met her in high school, if she had been there for him during that difficult time, he would never have killed anyone.

That he would have been a completely different person.

He tried to make up for what he had done, what was weighing down on him and her like a black storm cloud with his commitment and understanding, his struggle with his possessiveness, jealousy and fear.

When one evening, which in his mind they were supposed to spend together as usual, she told him that her friends had invited her to go out on the town with them and she really wanted to go, he felt a powerful pang of disappointment, an immediate desire to keep her.

He needed her and she wanted to leave him.

She proposed to him straight away to go with her, but he didn't want to go anywhere.

He wanted to have dinner with her, watch something together, talk to her, make love to her and fall asleep beside her, as he had every day for the many wonderful weeks in which she had filled his life.

But he said nothing, only tightening his lips, unable to hide the expression of displeasure on his face, and looked away, sitting at the table, rubbing his fingers stretched out in front of him. She saw at once how tense he had become and some of her own sensitive intuition told her what was bothering him.

He could not explain how she guessed with such ease what he was afraid of.

She approached him with a tender sigh, grasping his hand in hers, and he swallowed loudly, stroking her soft palm with his thumb.

"Stay." He said quietly, pleadingly, not even daring to look at her, embarrassed by his weakness, his begging.

"It's been a very long time since I went anywhere with them." She said, neither agreeing nor refusing him, and he let the air in quietly, looking intently at their entwined hands.

"Why do you care so much?" He asked with some kind of resentment, a sense that his presence was not enough for her, though he wanted only her, loved only her, needed only her.

She, however, looked at him with understanding and serenity, as if she had anticipated the question.

"Because I like them. The same way I like to eat rolls for breakfast in the morning, and you buy them from the shop to make me happy. I change our bedding every few days because I know you like the smell of it fresh and washed. You make me tea in my doggie-shaped mug because it's my favourite - because I like it. There's no greater reason for that." She explained softly, her voice enveloping him like a blanket, her words somehow strangely calming him even though he still didn't want her to leave.

He swallowed loudly, licking his lips with his tongue, feeling them become all dry with emotion.

"If I let you go there, will it make you happy?" He asked quietly, and she nodded.

"Yes. And out of gratitude that you sacrificed for me, I will make you happy when I return." She whispered and he felt heat in his lower abdomen, his manhood pulsed hard in his trousers at her words, his body went through goosebumps. He finally lifted his gaze to her, breathing deeply.

"And when are you coming back?" He asked uncertainly, and she mused for a moment.

"I'll be back by 10 p.m. Okay? We'll still have time to watch something together then." She said with a smile and he nodded, recognising that, indeed, it was not a very late hour.

"Okay." He whispered, and she grasped his cheeks in her hands, leaned over him and kissed him tenderly.

His manhood aggressively pulsed in his trousers, demanding her closeness, his hands tightened on the material of her jumper, but she pulled away from him.

"When I get back, you're going to come inside me as many times as you want. Okay?" She asked lightly, as if she were talking about the weather, and he felt a shiver run down his cheeks and just nodded, swallowing hard.

He watched her put on her shoes, watched her put on her jacket and backpack and waved at him saying they would see each other in a few hours.

She left.

He felt the urge to cry like a baby.

She had left him, and he needed her.

He sighed heavily, running his hand over his face, and thought he needed to pull himself together.

She had already told him about the friends she was going to meet and described them to him in detail.

He couldn't help himself and, during a break from work, he found every single one of them on Facebook, paying the most attention to the boy she was studying with for the year. According to what she said, he had a status set up for a relationship with some other girl, which reassured him.

Occasionally he would check what she said about her schedule, where she was going or who she was texting with, casting a quick glance at her phone.

She never lied.

She always told the truth and answered all his questions with commitment, even the ones that could be considered already too far-fetched.

"If your friend has a girlfriend, why is he meeting you?" He asked frustratedly, pouring hot water over her tea and his coffee, he heard her humming along behind, sitting in a chair in just his black Tshirt, eating her favourite lettuce and tomato rolls.

He loved it when she wore his T-shirts.

There was no more intimate sight for him, a confirmation that she was his.

"His girlfriend doesn't know that much about literature, he can't talk to her about our exams or the assignments we have to do. For the rest, he often brings her with him, she's a nice girl and she's very fond of us. I was once alone with her at lunch when they were having a crisis and she needed my advice." She said calmly and he furrowed his brow, placing her cup in front of her, sitting down next to her at the table.

"Why yours exactly?" He asked concerned that she might have been close to this boy and for some reason knew him better than his own girlfriend. She took a sip of tea and went on with her answer, undaunted by the tone of his voice.

"She said I was a good listener and that she knew I wouldn't judge her. She told me that she sometimes feels silly in his presence because she doesn't know what he's talking about. That it makes her think they are not meant for each other. But I told her that in front of us he is always talking about how smart she is, that she does so many difficult things in her classes that he feels dumb around her. She was relieved when it turned out they were both afraid of the same thing, and since then I think they've gotten along very well." She said lightly, and he hummed under his breath, taking a sip of coffee, feeling some kind of relief and not continuing the subject.

Although he had never trusted anyone in his life, except perhaps his own mother, with whom he had sporadic, telephone contact, he tried with all his might to trust her and fight the tormenting thoughts in his head.

That's why, when she left, he was lying in their bed, trying to read the book she had recommended to him, but he was unable to concentrate.

He glanced at his watch and phone display once in a while, wondering if she was okay, if she was safe. Suddenly he realised that she would be coming back at night and he felt apprehensive, so he thought it was a good reason to text her and ask if he should pick her up.

That way he could also get a glimpse of the people she had come with and be sure she would get home safely.

She wrote back to him after a few minutes.

He sighed heavily, pressing his lips together, accepting that he had to wait patiently for her return and wrote her back quickly.

He shuddered when she answered him almost immediately, feeling warm in his heart at the thought that she had a phone close at hand in case he wanted to contact her, if he needed her.

He felt her message in his trousers and was now completely hard. Desperate, he even thought about relieving himself quickly with his hand, imagining her riding him, but decided with difficulty that he would restrain himself.

The closer it got to the agreed time, the more stress and anxiety he felt.

What if she was late? If she doesn't keep her word?

He felt a burning sensation under his eyelids and a fear, a fear of disappointment, of the thought that he couldn't trust her after all.

He jumped up when he heard the sound of a key turning in the lock couple minutes later. He glanced quickly at his phone and saw that she had returned fifteen minutes ahead of schedule, some kind of heat wave dousing his body.

She walked inside with a smile, greeting him loudly, pulling off her shoes and jacket as if nothing had happened, as if she hadn't left him for so many hours and he hadn't performed the heroic feat of waiting for her.

He literally threw himself at her, pressing her against the wall, clinging desperately to her lips, shoving his tongue deep down her throat, unzipping and ripping her trousers from her, her breathing ragged, rapid, her hands entwined in his hair.

"How could you leave me?" He gasped between one messy, wet kiss and the next, a loud, drawn-out click accompanied the chaotic movements of their mouths, he didn't even know when he'd pulled her panties off or when her fingers quickly undid his belt and trousers, releasing what was underneath.

"Hm? I've been waiting for you. I've been waiting for you and fucking dying of longing." He growled grabbing her hips and lifting her up, her legs entwined at his back in a natural reflex. Her body arched like a string as he entered her suddenly, brutally, deeply, filling her to the very end with a loud groan of relief.

"I know, baby. I know, you've been so brave for me." She mewled into his mouth with difficulty, clamping her hands around his neck and hair, running them up and down his nape, over his cheek, getting out sentences between their lustful, passionate kisses and the brutal, sure thrusts of his hips, smacking again and again against her buttocks with a wet slap.

"So good to me. So patient. So understanding. I'm here now. Ah, God, I'm here, baby." She cried out innocently, sweetly, and he moaned low at her words, sinking his face into the hollow of her neck, licking her sweat and biting her, gripping her hips tightly, fucking her furiously, wanting to punish her at the same time as he wanted to reward her because she was back, she was back, she was back.

"I love you." He mumbled, and she sobbed loudly at his words, her core pulsed hard against his length, trying to keep him inside. "God, I love you so fucking much."

She came with his name on her lips, and he cum inside her soon after, panting hard, it felt like they were both almost screaming for a moment, and he sank to his knees with her, shuddering, her fingers trailing over his head, his back, cuddling him tenderly, both of them pulsing inside her, breathing anxiously, bliss in her voice.

"− my beloved − so good to me − waited for me so patiently − so good −" She praised him, kissing his face again and again, and he looked at her dreamily, recognising that he would never be able to refuse her anything, running his fingertips down her soft cheek.

"− I love you −" He whispered, as if he wanted her to understand, to comprehend the enormity of his feelings, the enormity of his struggle, the enormity of his devotion.

She grasped his hand in hers and kissed it tenderly, then pressed her soft lips to each of his fingers, his hand that had done so many bad things in the past, that had hurt with such great ease.

"− I love you too − I'm here −" She whispered soothingly, kissing his fingers anew with the unhurried, tender movement of her lips. "− I'm here, only yours −"

He thought, looking at her with tenderness, that perhaps with her he would calm down.

The voices in his head would quieten, calmed by her whispering, until they finally disappeared.

He fell asleep that night in her embrace, full of hope, his face snuggled between her naked breasts, listening to her breathing, feeling the beat of her heart under his cheek.

She was alive.

The next day, however, he felt like dying.

Browsing through the news portals, he came across a picture of a black sack pulled from a lake, the article left him with no illusions.

MACABRE DISCOVERY Alice Moore's family did not give up in their search and sadly finally found their daughter, who had been missing for a year. Unfortunately, she has not been found alive and the details of this crime are shocking. The quartered parts of her body were found in a black bag at the bottom of a lake near the village of Hanoverth, thirty kilometres from where she lived. It was known that Alice had gone missing on the night of 11 over 12 October last year, the last time she was seen on the surveillance cameras of the Moon Vibe club. She had left her friends, possibly feeling unwell and left the club. She can be seen walking down the street just outside the premises and then disappearing around the corner to vanish without a trace for a whole 12 months. The motives for this crime are unknown, although it is suspected that the girl's previous sexual partners, who may have been jealous of her and murdered her in an act of revenge, may have been involved. Most gruesome, however, is the fact that her head was stripped of her eyeballs, which were not found in the bag. The police have launched an investigation into the case.

He felt tears welling up in his eyes and even though a customer was standing in front of him, asking him if he would finally serve him, he couldn't look away from the phone and what he had read.

He knew it would come out at some point.

Some part of him may have even hoped for it before he met her.

But not now.

He apologised to his client, called out to his colleague to change him for a moment, left, locked himself in the toilet and crouched down leaning his back against the wall, starting to sob, clasping his hands over his face.

He remembered this girl, remembered her chatting him up in the club, asking him about his eye, telling him he was handsome, well built. She'd laughed and put her arm around him, and he'd felt a growing frustration, anger and this recurring, disgusting thought.

Whore.

He waited for her in the distance, in the other street, where he knew the cameras didn't reach. When she saw him smoking a cigarette she herself approached him, she herself suggested they go to the hotel, to have some fun.

So they went.

He never left his fingerprints or any traces behind.

He was a pedant.

He used condoms so he wouldn't leave a drop of his seed in those sluts.

He ran his hands through his hair, trembling all over, regretting everything he had done, but not because he felt sympathy for the victims, but because he was a threat to her now, that if this came out and she was at the centre of it, her academic career, her place at the university would be lost.

It would destroy her life.

He thought that in the state he was in now he might kill her in an act of despair, strangle her at the thought that she would not be his, that he could not have her.

He left work even though he hadn't finished his shift, drove to their flat and packed, tears dripping down his cheeks as he wrote a message to her on a piece of paper, the pen in his hand trembling with each letter.

My past caught up with me. I won't drag you down with me, baby.

She wrote him messages as she did every day, but he didn't answer her, and when the hour came when she usually went home his phone rang.

It rang and rang and rang, and he wept and wept and wept, already being several hours away from their town, from their home, from their happiness.

He promised her that he would protect her.

That he would protect her from the world

That he would protect her from himself.

It wasn't until the next day, lying in his hotel room, in an act of despair and longing, that he dared to open her messages on his phone.

He regretted reading it, as he burst into helpless sobs again, powerless and without hope, feeling like an empty vessel, an empty shell, exactly like the bodies of the women he threw into the lake.

He quickly found a job at another café, explaining to his boss that he had to leave his town suddenly and return to care for a sick parent.

He was surprised at how easy it was for him to lie.

She was the only one he never lied to.

She wrote to him every day.

She told him about her day at university, what she was eating, what she was reading. She also sent him her new articles, and he read it all several times a day, recognising that it was only because of the information from her that he wasn't going mad yet.

He didn't write her back.

He didn't want to give her hope.

After what he had done, there was no happy ending for them.

Even so, he hadn't killed anyone since he met her. He didn't want to sleep with any other women, touch any other women. He abhorred them.

He wanted only her.

One day, although she was in the habit of writing to him around noon when she had her lunch break between classes, he had not received any message from her. He felt anxious, but thought that perhaps something important had happened and he would hear from her later.

He did not hear from her all day.

He despaired and when he returned to his newly rented flat he simply stared at the ceiling.

She gave up.

She didn't speak to him for the next few days and doubts began to creep up inside him.

What if something happened to her?

He pressed his lips together at the thought, feeling the cold sweat on the back of his neck.

What if she was in hospital?

What if someone had hurt her?

He remembered her words about how scared she was that one day she would wake up in the night and someone would be standing over her.

How scared must she have been at night now that he wasn't there for her, that she couldn't find refuge in his arms?

He felt a tightening in his throat at the thought and struggled to stop himself from crying in front of the customer he had just poured coffee for.

He told his boss the next day that he needed a few days off and would work it off later and returned to their town, heading to her University. He didn't spot her anywhere, he knew what time her classes were and he recognised her friends from Facebook, so he easily spotted Hannah in the crowd of students.

"Hi. I'm sorry −" He started and she flinched, surprised, glancing at him with big eyes, looking at his scar.

He figured he didn't give a shit if she was disgusted with him or not. He explained to her quickly who he was looking for and that he was very worried because she wasn't taking calls from him even though she always did.

Lie.

Hannah blinked, looking at him uncertainly. She grunted quietly, correcting her bag which had started to slip off her shoulder.

"− well − actually, we're all worried about her − she hasn't come to class for a few days, she's not answering our calls −" She said hesitantly, and he felt the cold spread through his chest, his heart started pounding like crazy.

He thought that if she did something to herself because of him, he would gouge out his healthy eye himself and throw himself into the lake.

An empty shell.

He still had his keys to their flat and went there in the evening, not wanting to arouse the suspicions of the neighbours. He swallowed loudly and pressed on the door handle, stepping slowly inside, seeing only darkness.

He felt relieved at the thought of not smelling musty and decaying.

He turned on the light and then he saw her, lying on their bed in his black shirt. She raised herself to sit up, looking at him in shock, her lips slightly parted.

She was alive.

He stared at her in disbelief, his throat tightening when he realised he could smell her again. Her trembling hands reached for the buttons of his shirt and began to unbutton it slowly, he felt what he saw in his trousers, his manhood pulsed so painfully hard that a shudder went through him.

She parted her lips and whispered just one sentence before he threw himself on top of her and began to fuck her.

"I knew you'd come."

_____

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libraryraccoon · 3 months

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Write of a raccoon like a actual raccoon ending up in hell and terrorizing every citizen in hell, and finding some roadroller and it becomes even worse demons homes aren’t only being trashed and torn into pieces and some how Hazbin Hotel is still standing ( it’s because of Nifty scaring them off some how ) The hotel business starts off booming. Sinners rejoice your redemption is far from the ever so crazy Raccoon! Wait till the Duck comes in… >:)

Gender : Raccoon

Pronouns : They/them

Message from Raccoon : That give me idea for a Raccoon!Reader meeting IMP..

General Headcanon

You were a good thief, really good.

But one day, you were betrayed.

You were robbing the world's largest bank, but your partner in crime, Timothy, betrayed you by shooting you.

You didn't really understand why, you never had an explanation, but you suspect that he was working with the Police in secret.

Anyway, you're dead.

Welcome to Hell ! And you're… a raccoon ?

No, like, a real raccoon. The little thing that digs through trash cans.

Holy shit.

Vox was broadcasting his usual show, when he had to interrupt it because there was a turf war led by a raccoon ?

He never thought he would see a real raccoon in Hell, and he never thought he would have to broadcast about them because the raccoon was fighting to be the Overlord of one of the territories.

He could see in the background Angel Dust walking away from the raccoon after seeing them lunge at the face of a snake demon.

Vox quietly wondered if this was all a dream or if he should really be going to Overlord meetings with a raccoon.

Spoiler : he had to.

You injected fear into all the beings of Hell after that, causing chaos.

No one said anything about it, they watched you steal their stuff and their trash but they said nothing.

When Alastor returned, he was NOT expecting to see a raccoon in the Overlords meeting room. Even less so for Carmilla to introduce the said raccoon as the new Overlord.

He made a 404 error.

Alastor saw how everyone else was suspicious or afraid of you, he was wondering who the hell this raccoon is.

You found Alastor interesting.

In the sense that you loved all the chaos he created, so you joined him.

He brought you to the Hotel, wondering what entertainment you would do.

He don't regret it.

You were doing a lot of damage, yes, but it was fun.

One day you drank alcohol at Husk's bar (you stole the bottle when he wasn't watching), and you ended up getting drunk.

Have you ever seen a demon raccoon drunk ? Because the Hazbin Crew did it.

You have fought everyone and destroyed everything you saw.

You were throwing yourself at people's faces like a fucking cat throwing itself at curtains.

It took Vaggie and Charlie spiking you with 16 tranquilizers before you calmed down.

Result of the damage of the hotel : a kitchen destroyed, a living room destroyed, the hall the hotel destroyed, some walls destroyed, the face of Angel Dust and Husk being injured by your claws, Alastor's trench coat in ruins.

And that was just the damage caused to the Hotel, let's not even talk about the rest of Hell..

Lucifer met you when you were in Wrath…

How the hell a sinner found a way to go in the circles other than pride is a mystery without answers.

He asked you, but you just looked at him with completely blank and terrifying eyes. You spoke, but he didn't understand what you were saying, didn't understand the raccoon.

He doesn't even know if you answer or if you were making fun of him.

You have become attached to Lucifer. More precisely his ducks.

Lucifer made a raccoon duck and gave it to you, it's your most precious object since.

Someone must be watching you 24/7 to ensure Hell's survival.

Did I mention the edits about you and the fact that you are a meme in the 7 circles of Hell ?

You hated bald people because Timothy was bald. That's why you attacked Valentino as soon as you saw him.

You 🤝 Niffty = being Valentino's worst nightmares.

Hell wasn't ready for your alliance with Niffty.

Neither was heaven.

Niffty stabbed Adam, you finished him.

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hollisxwrites · 5 months

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Hi, can you do a short piece for Luke Castellan x reader, where Luke saves a mortal reader from a monster and they fall in love please?

as long as i'm with you, hero

gif is not mine!

THANK YOU FOR YOUR REQUEST!!!

word count: 1.1k

warnings: one singular swear word, reader calls luke a pretty boy, slight mentions of violence, overall just fluffy and cute, probably a little ooc and definitely doesn't follow the main plot.

summary: after luke saves the {reader} from a horrifying monster, they fall in love. that's it, that's the plot.

Before I even knew it, a creature I had only ever heard of in myths was approaching me. I was terrified when I saw the Antaeus, an ugly, brooding, red creature nearing where I sat on a bench in Central Park. I looked around, hoping someone saw the demon too, but no one even looked up. I felt crazy, deranged even, hoping, and praying to any and every god I knew possibly existed. I didn’t want to die today. I was frozen onto the cold, metal bench, not knowing whether to run for my life or not, wondering if I was hallucinating all of this. The creature was ten feet away from me. Well shit. I thought. I didn’t know I was dying today.

Suddenly, as the creature continued to tramp towards me, a young man, about my age, in a highlighter orange tee-shirt ran at the monster head on. I was shocked. I thought I was the one who could see the horrible thing, but apparently, the handsome boy with the dark curls could see him, too. His sword slashed at the creature, but every wound the boy inflicted on him was healed by the Earth. I guess Gaea was his mother. The boy, then coming up with a strategy, jumped up on the monster and hoisted him up with his...what is that? Flying shoes? Then, he sliced the head of the monster, and it turned into ash. The boy fell to the ground with a sickening smack. He didn’t move, so I rushed towards him. No one in the crowd looked at the poor boy, except me. Could no one see what was happening except me? I rushed to the boys side, kneeling down on the ground. I placed a hand on his chest to make sure his heart was beating, and it was. His breath was steady, but it looked like he must of fainted from impact, possibly having a concussion. I couldn't tell if he hit his head or not. I shook him slightly, and then again, when eventually his eyes fluttered open, and oh my god, his eyes were stunning.

“Are you alright?” I asked, concerned about the boy. He winced a little bit when he tried to sit up, obviously embarrassed to be lying flat on the cold ground.

He sighed and winced at the sun that was directly in his eyes. “I’ve been better. Who are you anyways? Did you see everything that just happened?”

I nodded my head. “Yeah. I feel like I’m the only one who saw the Antaeus until you came out of nowhere.”

“Well, I guess you’re just different, like me.” He met my eyes, and I swear I could feel my heart beat out of my chest just looking at this stranger. “What’s your name?”

“My name is {reader}. What’s yours? Thank you for saving me, by the way. I would probably be dead by now if it wasn’t for you.”

He finally sat up to meet face me, ruffling his hair, trying to make it look a little more presentable, I assumed. “Luke. Luke Castellan. And, you’re welcome. Never hurts to help a pretty person like you.”

“Nice to meet you, Luke.” I said, blushing slightly. “Now tell me, what just happened and why could I see something no one but you could?”

That day, Luke told me all about the world of demigods, Greek myths, and gods, and how everything that I have been told about them is real. He told me that his father, Hermes, abandoned him to fend for himself a long time ago, and now, nine years later, he was here, fighting off monsters for a camp that he felt didn’t appreciate him.

Something else I discovered that day was that I am in love with Luke Castellan. His dark eyes and scar on the side of his face that I wanted so badly to kiss, and his demeanor of confidence that I learned was a ruse all made me fall deeply in love with him.

All of this happened six months ago, and now, this mysterious demigod who saved my life is my boyfriend, and I am an honorary member of Camp Halfblood, due to my inclination to see through what the people at the camp call the mist, which put me in danger. The camp was beautiful, and I learned skills such as sparing, archery, and sword fighting. I spent time with Luke on the beautiful sunny days that seemed to last forever at the camp.

I was walking across the archery field in my camp tee-shirt and bathing suit, using my hand to cover my face from the sun. I was alone, or so I thought, when all the sudden I heard footsteps following me to the lake. I looked back and saw the beautiful face of my even more beautiful boyfriend. I paused my walking and let him catch up to me. He picked me up in his arms and spun me around. I let out a joyful laugh, holding on to him in order not to hit the ground. He sat me down carefully and looked into my eyes, smiling his gorgeous smile that captivated me all those months ago.

“Hi.” He said, smiling down at me. The sun hit his face at the perfect angle, illuminating all his features that I loved so much. He looked like a god, and I guess that was fitting, because he technically was partially one.

“Hi, pretty boy.” I replied, in awe of him. My hands rested on his shoulders as I continued to admire every part of his face. My fingers went up to trace the scar on his face up and down. He relished the feeling, leaning onto my hand. I moved to caress his face, embracing his warmth.

His eyes fluttered to my lips, and I smiled at him, pressing my body closer to his. He pressed our lips together, and every time, I felt blissful. He tasted like sugar and sunshine, and he was so gentle and soft with me. He started to press kisses all over my face, causing my face to warm up, not due to how hot it is. He placed one more lingering kiss to my lips, grinning into me. He grabbed my hand.

“Let’s got swim, sweetheart.”

“Anything as long as I’m with you, hero.”

He smiled, pressing a kiss to my neck as we walked. I hoped in this moment that these days of sunshine and my pretty boyfriend never ended.

#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan fluff #luke castellan imagine #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson show #pjo series

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yandere-writer-momo · 29 days

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I forgot to post this. Apologies Kengan fans

Yandere Kengan Imagine:

A Shy Smile

Yandere Kaolan Wongsawat x Fem Reader

Kaolan had always been as calm as still water. His aspiration in life had been to fight the strongest fighter to the death. So why did he feel his resolve falter when his mind wandered to you? Rama’s adopted sister?

You were a delicate woman with a shy demeanor unlike your eccentric brother. You always gave him soft smiles and shy waves, Kaolan thought you were cute.

Despite his stoic exterior, his heart often raced whenever you were within range. His mind often wandered to places it has never been before. Kaolan knew he had a crush on you, you were his type. The type of girl who would never give him a headache or try to control him. The perfect girl.

Kaolan’s gaze always met yours and you’d always shyly look away from him. He knew you must have a crush on him as well… why else would you always go out of your way to greet him?

Kaolan knew how shy you were, so he’d be the one to ask you out. He would be willing to take the first step and what better way than to ask your brother for your hand? Kaolan was the best fighter in Thailand, there was no way Rama XIII would refuse his request.

Rama merely gave Kaolan a knowing smile. “It seems something, or better yet someone, has caught your eye.”

Kaolan simply hummed in response but Rama nodded his head. “Alright then. I know my darling little sister would be in good hands, so you’re welcome to court her if you’d like.”

And court you he did. Kaolan was nothing short of a gentleman despite his stoic exterior. He would bring you homemade meals and bouquets of flowers. It would have been touching if you weren’t so terrified of him. You couldn’t explain it, but Kaolan scared you.

Perhaps it was how expressionless he presented himself to be on the outside to others but how his eyes were filled with so much emotion… you were so scared you’d drown in Kaolan’s eyes if you stared into them.

How were you to know he’d mistake your shy glances of being a crush when in reality, you were just trying to be polite. You weren’t interested in fighters since you wanted an idyllic life… yet your brother and Kaolan had other plans.

“He’s incredibly smitten with you, my darling sister.” Rama smiled at you. “Why don’t you just accept him? You don’t have to be so skittish, Kaolan doesn’t bite.”

You only meekly nod your head. You couldn’t admit that to your brother since Kaolan was his prized fighter. And you never wanted to upset Rama.

Kaolan’s affection is stiff and awkward but you never voiced your discomfort, nope. You only gave him your signature shy smile. A smile that had sealed your fate from the start… that beautiful, shy smile.

#yandere obsession #yandere imagine #kengan ashura #kengan #kengan omega #kenganverse #Kaolan Wongsawat #female reader #yandere fic #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #Kengan head canons #slow burn #protective yandere #yandere prompt #Kaolan x reader #gaolang wongsawat

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lady-ashfade · 11 months

Text

Blessed from above

Young!Aemond targaryen x Young!Fem!Reader Drabble.

I just wanted something cute. I might do a part two of when they are older and meet again before getting married.

Warnings: Forced marriage, young love, short and fast paced , Maybe a hind of bit Yandere Alicent and Aemond.

Gossip and whispers of the beast you had yet to met clouded your brain before you knew the truth, many people telling what they believed or heard from someone else. Young ears picked up the tone they spoke with fear and disgust laced in their judgmental voices. You hated gossip, it filled you with rage when the older woman spoke like they were better then people just because of their wealth.

Being a young status lady, you were surrounded by the ladies telling you what they thought was best, how to act and look. You, a noble lady waiting for a marriage proposal from a man from any age. Thankfully, your father was on your side no matter how many times your mother wanted you to be married off. But this time, even he couldn’t save you. It had been a few months since you had first bled and the news traveled quickly to everyone across Westeros.

Tears flooded down your cheeks as you first heard you had been betrothed to someone you had never met. Your mother’s voice fell death to your ears from that point and didn’t listen to anything she said. The thoughts of a old, mean man wanted you to bare his children filled you with rage and worry. It wasn’t like you didn’t want to be a wife because you did, you learned ans worked your whole life to be the best wife you could be. But you wanted true love and someone caring and sweet to fill your days.

“Get ahold of yourself.” Hands gripping your shoulders and shaking you slightly, your mother bend down to your level. “The prince will be your husband. This is the highest honor you will ever get and you can not refuse, so get ahold of your sense. If you mess this up, I will disown you and you’ll be glad you had the chance to become a princess.” Had you heard that right? The prince is your betrothed? The beast you had heard of, a year ago the boy had turned from the laughing stock of the kingdom to someone only spoken about in whispers and behind closed doors. But did you actually believe anything you had heard?

It didn’t matter as you sat in the queen’s chambers with her eyes glued to you. “Hello dear.” she spoke and made her way over to you with a kind smile. You bowed and bend your knee to show respect and she chuckled softly and immediately thought you had embarrassed yourself. “I have heard the tales of your families beauty since I was a little girl,” her hand reached up to your chin and moved it up. Your eyes meeting her soft ones, “I underestimated them until now.” You couldn’t believe a complement like that from the queen. “Thank you, my queen.” You smiled politely and tried to keep your voice straight. “I know this must be scary for you, but there is no need to be. I will be here each step of the way.” But no matter how she sounded, if they were true or false..

You were still terrified about meeting the price.

Again the fear took ahold of your stomach as you twirled your fingers together in waiting, the garden was peaceful though. You saw the queen and your mother sit above the garden and stare, talking amongst themselves, you knew your mother was kissing up to the queen. But the only real comfort you had was your lady in waiting five feet away from you. The dress you wear was a lovely shade of green that the queen had made just for you.

The white haired figure made your mind go blank as you stood up quickly and not fully get a look at the young boy. Throat going dry and knees almost going numb at the nerve. The shadow creeped closer until it was at your feet and you felt your heart drop. Clearing your throat you began to speak what you had rehearsed so many times in your head. “Hello, my prince.” You couldn’t look up. The boy took notice of your body language and how you avoided eye contact with him. You were scared. Of course you were, everyone was.

“You can look at me, or are you afraid I’d hurt you.” Eyes going wide you stood up straight and look at him. Your mouth ready to defend yourself but chocking at the boy you saw. His handsome face with unbelievable soft looking skin, the eyepatch on his face making your stomach twist. Not in fear but in pity he has been stripped of his eye, undoubtedly once beautiful as the other. He was glaring at you, his face held nothing sweet but his young features.

“Forgive me, I had no intention of offending you.” The tiny smile and sweet voice that sounding like heaven to his ears. You looked like a goddess when he first saw you arrive at the castle, so far away but he couldn’t wait to get closer. He knew you’d be afraid of him like the rest, so afraid to look him in the face. He needed to get ahead before you broke his heart. “You could do no such thing.” He huffed, his voice cold and held no emotion. Maybe he was stone hearted? But why didn’t that feel like the case for you?

You just smiled and giggled for him to hear and fiend to hear it again, to have it marked into his scull. “Shall we go for a walk?” You offer him your arm with a face that lit up like the sun. All he could do was freeze and blink at the kindness you showed him. He didn’t since any fear of himself but just about meeting someone new.

Blessings from above was what you were.

#Aemond targaryen x reader #yandere Aemond targaryen #yandere alicent hightower #alicent hightower x reader #house of the dragon drabble #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon

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akechi-stole-my-heart · 5 months

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akechi's "i do not regret with my choices i'm rather proud" line in no more what ifs is so widely misunderstood it drives me nuts. it's a coping mechanism guys. it's a lie.*

(*that has an element of truth to it, as most of akechi's lies do.)

like. there's this trend to take the line at face value. he doesn't regret what he did for shido. he doesn't feel bad or think he did anything wrong. he has zero remorse. but you shouldn't take anything akechi says at face value, and regret and remorse are two very different things.

there's a lot to unpack here, so bear with me as i try to break it all down.

so okay, the source of this whole misunderstanding--the line in no more what ifs. i've gotten into this before in my analysis of the song, but the context of it is specifically in maruki's reality. goro is looking back on his life and thinking about where he ended up because of his choices. he's thinking, was i a fool? did i mess up? was there a better way? this line of thinking is reflected within the game itself when he explicitly says in the engine room that he wishes he met akira sooner, but that it doesn't matter what he wants because it's impossible to change what happened.

but here's the thing--that impossible wish he made in the engine room, where things were different and he and akira could be friends? it's no longer impossible. it's literally right in front of him. but it has a catch. accepting the reality of his impossible dream comes at the cost of being himself. all his choices and agency will be stolen, including the choices he made in the past that got him here. so he's left with one last choice--accept maruki's reality, give into his desires, and lose himself. or accept the choices he made for himself, and the consequences that came with them.

so, his conclusion in the song is that any what if's and regrets are pointless. he cannot afford to regret. he must be proud of what he did and who he is. goro is terrified of losing himself and being forced into becoming another puppet like he was for shido. (and notice--him acknowledging that he was a subservient puppet before, as he does on 2/2, requires that he's aware that the choices he is so apparently proud of weren't entirely his own. he was pushed there by someone else. he still blames himself for being manipulated, but a part of him knows that what he did for shido was wrong, and that he shouldn't have done it. doesn't sound like someone completely without regrets to me.) so he has to hold onto his choices and be proud of them. he can't let himself be tempted. the price he'd pay for them is far too high.

so, yeah. it's a coping mechanism. he's forced into that conclusion by his circumstances. akechi does regret where life has brought him and how he got there and the choices he's made, but regret is pointless, because he can't change the past and he can't accept maruki's future. so he chooses not to regret. people like him can't let themselves regret.

but of course, that's not all. in a post-canon world where he lives, goro isn't going to suddenly break down and be filled with remorse. because like i said, his feelings are complicated, and he still has his pride. akechi doesn't want to admit his faults or his weaknesses, and he does still think the people he targeted deserved it. so is he remorseful? yes and no. he is aware what he did was wrong, and that it was all for absolutely nothing. but he still doesn't view the world as something worthy of saving or protecting. to him people are all still inherently evil, save perhaps for akira, so what he did was both deserved and negligible, because the people he hurt were on the path of destruction regardless of him anyway.

so feeling for his victims and experiencing true remorse is going to be a process of recovery. at the same time, akechi still has the innocent child who wanted to be a hero hidden inside him. part of him does care, it's just been so neglected he isn't aware of it most of the time. that part of him began to be reawakened with akira and would continue to be as he makes connections, especially with the people he hurt like the phantom thieves.

which is part of why i think akechi befriending and reconciling with the thieves is so important! he needs to face the consequences of his actions and realize what he did didn't just hurt evil people, but innocents too. he needs to learn to see people as beings who can change, who are redeemable and are good. that people can love him even if he's done horrible things. and as he realizes these things about himself, he will eventually start to realize that it's true about the rest of the world, too.

goro wants to believe in the world, and in people. he doesn't anymore, but he wants to. when he starts to believe in people again, that's when he'll be able to finally be honest about his past mistakes, and feel true remorse for his actions and mistakes, and be able to start to make amends. the parts of the detective prince that reflected the little boy who believed in truth and justice are still in him somewhere, he just needs a lot of time, self reflection, recovery, and help to rediscover those parts of himself.

another aspect of this is how akechi voluntarily turns himself in. i do think there are ulterior motives here, mainly that he can be the one to help convict shido. it's also self-destructive, a way to sort of end his life when literally doing that didn't work. it's the path of least resistance, where he never has to truly look back on his crimes and self reflect because well, he's paying for his crimes anyway, so who cares. it's the easy out. but it also shows that he is aware what he did was wrong and that it's right for him to try to make amends. goro isn't totally without remorse or regret. his remorse and regret literally pushed him into trying to kill himself. he's just very, very bad at coping with them, and so chooses instead to repress those emotions like he has been for years.

okay, so, conclusion. stop forcing in lines in comics and fic where akechi is like "I don't regret!" without also portraying the nuance lying beneath that line. how in third sem it's a coping mechanism, and otherwise it's a shield keeping him from being honest with himself about his past and his ruined dreams of being a hero. remorse ≠ regret, and goro feels both but to different extents and different reasons. he hates his victims, but he's deluding himself about their guilt, and once that delusion crashes down and he sees that he's hurt innocents, he's going to have to deal with a lot of intense feelings like his already existing self hatred.

akechi isn't some heartless killer who feels nothing for his victims. he's only using that idea of himself as a coping mechanism. he forced himself to become that by repressing the parts of him that care until he can barely feel them anymore. he isn't just the black mask, he is also the detective prince. he's both. akechi is and always will be both sides of himself, even when he tries so hard to shut one of those sides down and ignore it as an aspect of the truth. you can't write akechi well until you understand that. akechi is always both.

so, does akechi regret? well...it's complicated.

#p5 #goro akechi #sera posts #there is a separate but related meta about goro and agency that I want to make but its much less about goro as a character #and more about how both the game treats what he did and how the fandom does and how both are lacking #the nuance that the situation should be treated with #yet again another meta for another day #but hey I finally made the regrets meta I've been wanting to do this for foreverrrr #when I say forever I mean forever. I had a draft saved about this from almost two years ago lol #cw suicide #just in case bc of that one paragraph #sera talks goro

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grandlinedreams · 8 months

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childhood friends trope with Law please and thank you <3333 This particular trope always has me in shambles THE INTIMACY?? OR KNOWING EVERY VERSION OF THAT PERSON?? THE INSIDE JOKES? UGHHH And lets not forget the tenderness that comes with knowing that person for years and then some. Good shit. I just want this lonely brooding twink to have something constant in his from from his childhood to adulthood. The softness makes me wanna hurl i love it

YESSSSS i am also such a sucker for childhood friends trope bls I hope I can do this justice for you!!

[Heads up!: fluff, a touch of angst, dressrosa arc spoilers]

He's lucky to not be dead.

You kneel on Law's other side, limp hand in both of yours. You've never seen him so still and quite frankly, you're terrified.

You know you should talk to him, try to keep him tethered here in the land of the living ㅡ but your mind is horribly blank given the chaos still unfolding around you.

Were you more sentimental, you'd beg. A thousand pinky promises and accompanying eyerolls, the smirk you so often threaten to punch him for when he's being insufferable ㅡ you'd take it over this.

"You must care for him quite a bit," Viola says, and you know she's trying to find something to say, to reassure you that Law is going to be just fine. "Are you..."

She trails off, tact where there often is none when it comes to you and Law. Because there's only so in sync you can be with someone else, share looks and understand what the other wants, seemingly operate as two halves of a whole before you get that question.

"No," you say, "we're just friends."

ㅡ

You're a lot more than just friends. That implies that there's been much of a time where you didn't know each other, and there really hasn't. Or that the two of you met through traditional means.

That isn't quite true either. You meet when the world is on fire for the both of you, in ways so similar and yet not.

Grief is such a funny thing when you find comfort in someone who's lost just as much as you. It's easier to tread those dark waves when someone else is threatening to sink with you ㅡ find solid ground in linked pinkies and eyerolls that follow, wide grins made hole-punched by missing baby teeth.

Of course there's also Shachi, Penguin and Bepo ㅡ they aren't far behind you in knowing Law, but it still stands that you've been a constant for longer.

"Of course I'm gonna come with you, idiot," you huff, eyes gleaming with laughter, "who else is gonna put up with you the way I do?"

You don't need to tell him you'd gladly follow him through the gates of hell. He knows, because he'd do the same for you.

There's only one person who knows you better than yourself, and his name is Trafalgar Law. You don't turn as he exits Kyros' house, eyes still skyward as he sinks onto the step beside you.

"The stars are pretty," you remark.

"You should be asleep." Law's eyes narrow when you mouth his words at the same time, and you scoff.

"Last time I checked, I wasn't the one who got shot, then almost lost an arm." Law meets your gaze, then looks away. "I'm not expecting you to apologize, because that isn't how we operate. But we made a promise, didn't we?"

"[Name]ㅡ"

"Law."

Law huffs. "We were kids."

"So? Hasn't stopped us before. As I recall, you've pulled this card on me several times." You hold your hand up, pinky extended. "Do it, Law."

Law stares at you, as thrilled about your tradition as he ever is, but links his pinky around yours. You grin, and he rolls his eyes. "You're a pain."

"Yeah," you answer, scooting closer to settle your head on his shoulder. "You're my pain, and I'm yours. That's how it works, right?"

Law is quiet, undoubtedly still coming to terms with the end of all of this and what it means for him ㅡ catharsis, a shackle unclamped from around his neck. Your hand finds his, fingers braced through the gaps of his, and you squeeze. You don't say a word, and you don't have to.

"Yeah," Law finally answers, lets his head rest against yours. "It is."

#ㅡmine.#one piece x reader #one piece scenario #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #ㅡanswered.#anonymous

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shdo-xplosion · 1 year

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PART TWO: CLINICAL

☼masterlist☼

01 <-☼-> 03

warnings: 2.4k; captivity, telepathy, restraints, non-con, forced orgasm, fingering, squirting, toys? (more like tools), speculum, ben-wa balls (sort of), insertion, medical play? in the name of research, we call bakugou ‘kat’ for now! (this chapter is hard to tag)

notes: hahahaha um hi. this is gross. and it’s only going to get worse, so prepare yourselves. (˵ᵕ̴᷄ ˶̫ ˶ᵕ̴᷅˵)

tags: @ssplague @makepastanotwar13 @kaidabakugou @kiarathace @kllrkitty @itachiwho @siempre-entre-dos-opciones-blog

let me know if you would (or would not) like to be tagged, but you must have your age somewhere visible on your blog!

You recognize the blond alien immediately. It paces into the room without giving you so much as a glance, just walks straight to the control panel behind you that you’ve yet to get a glimpse of.

“What are you doing?” you ask now that you know they can all understand you. When it still doesn’t acknowledge you, you try again. “Hey!”

This time, with your neck craned uncomfortably, you’re met with an intimidating scarlet gaze.

What?

Your eyebrows raise at the sound of his voice. His mouth didn’t move at all which leads you to believe… “You’re telepathic.” Something that scientists on earth have just barely begun to figure out.

The alien grunts and nods.

Does that mean you can hear me too? you think and are met with another throaty noise of confirmation.

For a few seconds, you’re in awe, fascinated by how advanced they are. Then the implication sets in, and you shut your eyes.

So, you’ll always know what I’m thinking then.

Yes.

Just another leg up that these terrifying creatures have over you and your crew mates. There’s no way out of this. Any plan you may come up with, any plot to escape, they’ll know from the beginning.

Closing your eyes, you look back to the high ceiling as the alien fiddles with the panel. All you hear are little clicks, but then the table beneath you begins to move, the extensions that your legs are bound to spreading apart. On your chest, the tiny massage balls become firmer as they roll over your tits, and when you begin to squirm the straps around your wrists pull tighter.

Fuck. Fuck fuck. What is about to happen to you? What is—

Relax. I’m only here to do research.

“What kind of research?” you ask frantically, your voice too loud as it rings through the room.

I have to see what your body is capable of.

My… ?

Your cunt, it says explicitly, sending shivers down your spine.

You’re so used to tears flooding your waterline that you barely even notice it now.

You whisper between heavy breaths, “are… am I going to…”

This isn’t the impregnation phase, no.

Phase. So there’s a phase. The fact that this is not it brings you minimal relief as the promise of it still hangs over your head.

The creature walks around to the end of the table and waves a tray of some sort over. Telepathy and telekinesis? Or is it something else?

It sits down on a chair you had no idea was even there, then lifts the thin covering off of your legs so that you’re exposed to it.

Wait, wait, you stall, trying to give yourself just a little more time to get mentally prepared. What’s your name?

You wouldn’t be able to say it.

Try me, you insist, chest heaving as you panic.

As expected, the alien makes a noise void of any softness. Ktsk, like someone being strangled.

Okay, you chew on your lip as you think of what to call it. Kat. Kat works. Less like a choke, more like a scream.

Fine.

You feel hands on your knees, travel higher and higher, and again, you stop him. “Hold on!”

He actually sighs in what sounds like exasperation. What?

Are you male or female?

There’s more than just male and female here, he corrects, which makes sense. I am male, though.

You can stop calling him ‘it’ now. It doesn’t humanize him since he isn’t human at all, but it somehow makes him slightly less of a monster, a beast that lives in your closet rather than under your bed.

Without any more questions—any that can be answered anyway—you lay your head back and inhale deeply. There’s nothing you can do to stop him from touching you, so you need to do your best to make peace with it.

He doesn’t trace patterns up your thighs or waste time with gentle touches, just leans between your legs for a closer look. You wince when you feel fingers spread your lips, not because it hurts but because it’s cold.

Body tensing, your hole clenches in front of him, prompting Kat to run the tip of his finger over it. It feels curious, as if he truly has no idea what he’s looking at. Do the female aliens not have anatomy like you?

Kat prods around in a way that would be amusing in any other situation, but no giggles escape you, only shallow breaths.

When he tries to push past your entrance you let out a high-pitched sound of discomfort, ow ow ow, and it makes Kat stop immediately.

What is it?

You can’t just… push something in there dry, you explain. You need some kind of lubricant otherwise it hurts. You’re teaching him for your benefit, keep him from tearing anything.

He switches gears, hesitant and possibly confused. If he’s anything like earth men, he’s too embarrassed to ask for any extra information on the matter.

Feather light touches dance around your hole now, spreading your folds apart again. The first nudge of your clit makes your body jolt in shock, almost impressed that he found it so quickly. You think you can feel him staring at your face, but you refuse to look at him. Your thoughts are already giving too much away.

A pleasure point?

Yeah. No reason to deny it.

Kat touches the bundle of nerves again, like a button at first, but when all it does is make you scrunch up your nose, he begins to flick it instead. Back and forth, back and forth. You feel it begin to swell, becoming more firm, more obvious, the longer he toys with it.

A different kind of pulse between your legs proves that his actions are affecting you, a subtle throb deep in your pussy that makes slick coat your walls.

Lubricant? he thinks.

You hate yourself as you nod. It’s a biological response, your voice of reason reminds you. You don’t like it, but this is natural.

Kat doesn’t say anything else, just dips a fingertip into your hole to gather your arousal, dragging wetness over your folds and slicking your clit with it. His touches become smoother, which makes it feel better, which makes you hate yourself even more. This is sick. Even with your logic you can’t help but believe something is wrong with you if your body is enjoying this.

He is an alien. An alien who almost killed you. Who put a parasite inside of your captain and plans to do the same to you.

I didn’t do anything to your captain, you hear, and you’re about to argue, but before you can think of a comeback, Kat slides a thick finger into your pussy. He presses in slowly, but it only gets deeper and deeper. You hadn’t actually realized how big his hands were.

You can’t place the noise he makes, but you think it might sound… satisfied?

He twists his hand a bit, wiggling the digits inside of you. You understand what he meant by research now. It all seems so clinical. You sort of expect him to pull out a notebook.

Without asking, Kat begins to move, pushing his finger in and out of your body. You bite your lip hard and squeeze your eyes shut. The bindings on you feel so much tighter all of a sudden. You can’t close your legs at all, can’t use your hands to hide yourself. All you can do is let him touch you.

As he fingers you, he brings his other hand up to touch your clit again.

Fuck.

Is that good or bad?

You don’t want to tell him. Don’t want him to know that it does, in fact, feel good. But you can’t deny it. He can hear your thoughts. Even though you don’t confirm it, he knows.

Faster. In and out, the pad of a finger rubbing over your clit. He pushes another inside of you, your hole stretching at the intrusion. A slight burn accompanies it, but at the first downward twitch of your mouth, Kat speeds up on your clit.

The tip of one of his fingers is dragging over your g-spot, and it feels wonderful. Makes a certain pressure build in your pelvis, in your bladder, and as more hot tears fill your eyes, even hotter squirt begins to dribble down your folds.

If Kat is confused by it, he doesn’t make a show of it, just continues the same motions as your legs start to shake. You wonder if he’ll understand the concept of overstimulation. What will happen if he doesn’t?

Helpless, you remember. You’re helpless.

The third finger makes you groan out loud, back arching, and the movement brings to attention the device locked into your chest. Your tits are tender now, nipples hard enough to peek through the see-through tubing. You’re embarrassed at how your body is reacting to him. You can’t remember the last time you were this wet, the last time slick dripped from your cunt in thick strings.

What is he thinking? Has he ever seen something like this before?

No. Your body is different from our females.

How?

He removes his fingers and you swear you almost whimper at the loss.

Smaller. Tighter, he says, and then, softer.

You blink up at the ceiling, not sure how to respond. If humans are smaller, surely you can’t tolerate being pregnant. Probably can’t even tolerate taking one of these alien cocks. It’s a vulgar thought, but it’s still there, and it’s still troubling.

Is that all? Are you finished? you ask. You don’t even care that you haven’t actually cum.

You see the strange, blond spikes of his hair move when he looks up your body to lock eyes.

No. I still some more tests.

A test that involves some kind of speculum, stretching you open open open until you’re breathing through your teeth. He uses something to swipe at your gummy walls, reminds you of getting swabbed at your old physician’s office, only you doubt Kat is screening for cancer or STDs.

Then, still stretched to your limit, he begins touching your clit again. All of your muscles tense, but you can’t actually clench like you’re used to, the tool wedged inside of you preventing any type of contraction despite your body’s want to do just that.

And something about that, that feeling of being pulled so thin, wide open and vulnerable, it makes your eyes roll back. Kat is swiping multiple fingers over your swollen clit, drops of squirt streaming down the tool, the curve of your ass, and the table beneath you. Your spine curves as much as the restraints allow it too, and with a shuddering breath, you hit your climax.

Oh my god, my god, fuck fuck fuck. Normally your cunt would pulse and spasm with every wave of your orgasm, but it can’t, your body trying to force the barrier out of you without success.

When it finally stops, after it feels like it never will, you tremble and gasp and try to ignore the way your vision is dancing with little white dots.

“Okay, that’s… that’s it, right? You got what you wanted?”

Kat slowly slides the speculum from you and places it on the tray next to him, not looking at you as he answers, no.

He examines you again, no tools, just his red eyes and thick fingers. Your pussy is swollen with blood flow, coated with enough slick to dull some sensation, but every tap to your clit makes you whine. This time when he makes you cum, he’s able to see the way your cunt clenches, hole tightening then loosening.

He holds you open, swirling the tip of his finger around your sloppy entrance so that you squirm.

Final test, he thinks, moving to retrieve something else. When he holds three shiny spheres in your line of vision, you shake your head. They have to be two inches in diameter. There’s no way…

I just need to see how much you can handle, he tells you as if that answers all your questions.

Resituating himself between your legs, Kat presses one of the balls against you, slicking it up with your juices before lining it up with your entrance and slowly pushing it inside of you.

The stretch actually isn’t bad, not after so much prep. Your muscles are spent and relaxed, covered in viscous arousal.

Using his fingers, Kat pushes the ball as far as he can, hitting the wall of your cervix so that you jerk and cough.

There’s one.

The second is much the same, your pussy greedily sucking in whatever it’s given. With two inside, you feel the weight, how they crowd your insides. Three will be too many. You know that for sure.

But Kat still tries, slipping the last smooth ball inside of you, making the others shift where they’ve settled in your guts. As soon as he moves his finger, that final ball slips right back out, the sensation disturbingly pleasurable.

Kat grunts in disapproval and pushes it back in, trying to get it in a little farther this time.

It’s not gonna… they’re too big.

You hear a little huff when the ball breeches your hole again, rolling onto the table.

Fine. We’ll just try again soon.

Nothing’s gonna change, you tell him. It’s not like my vagina is just gonna grow another couple sizes.

Kat stands up and looks at you, eyebrow cocked, one side of his mouth just barely pulled up.

Don’t worry. I’m sure I can figure out some ways to stretch you out better.

He disposes of his tools then gives the straps around your wrists a little slack. As he starts toward the door you call out loud, “wait! Aren’t you gonna get these things out of me?”

Kat turns then slowly paces over to you. Your eyes go wide when he leans down close enough for you to feel chilled breath on your face.

No. He puts a thumb on your chin, pulling down until your bottom lip reveals your teeth. You watch as his split tongue darts out of his mouth, quick as a flash as he catches one of your tears on it. I wanna see if you can do it by yourself.

But…

I told you already. I need to see what this cunt can do.

Needs to see how much you can take, if you’re strong enough to birth his race.

You already know that you’re not.

#bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou smut #bnha x reader #mha x reader #tw dark content #tw noncon

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