#Chapter 1: Confessions

[mintygreencake]

We don't talk about how unhinged early Seth was, bro DEADASS took Boo's phone and started talking his shit to Al 😭 BROOO...

Then he OFFERED Boo to come find him if Al leaves them OH NAHHH 💀

Dame near gave Al a heart attack when he answered the phone and HE KNEW THAT 😭

[rottenraccoons]

Okay, i just finished the first chapter. SO FUCKING GOOD - I love the sassy, smart MC and Oleander dfnjgjdnfndfjnnfj. Love the world building too. Cannot wait for another chapter. Great job, guys! Will Oleander marry me? Okay, thx, bye :)

"I am touched by your proposal, Rhaenyra Velaryon. I do not take your feelings lightly, but I am afraid I will have to reject your proposal. At the moment marriage would not be ideal for me. I have other commitments I cannot ignore, and until those are satisfied I would not be a right and proper husband to you or anyone."

"It would be cruel to bind you to a contract I could not fulfil, and cruel to those around us who would be deprived of our attentions. Forgive me for this rejection. I can only hope that our current partnership will be enough to satisfy you."

[1242pm]

THIS WHOLE SCENE SLAUGHTERED ME *WHEEZING* Ankou is such an instigator, but he is so funny with it LMAOOOOOOOO. i love Adolphe but honestlyyy Ankou was EATING HIM UP in the beginning 😭 he got a few licks back but that was some devious devastation Ankou did

[rexila-rites]

I was re-reading the superthieves fic earlier today and the entire “Stanley and mariella talk about that crazy robbery that happened” section of the first chapter is absolutely hilarious now that I know the truth about Mariella. It is absolutely hilarious to see them both lying to each other’s face to make themselves seem like totally normal human individuals. And Stanley asking “do you think they know who did it?” And mariella responding with “well Cynthia in security saw a professional level thief, and Jim from security said he was masked!” to almost subtly say “i saw you and i know you did it.” Which does in fact answer Stanley’s question!! But Stanley does NOT know!!! and i just love them. it’s genius. i love it. Chefs kiss

Im gonna re-read the entire fic with the hilarious brand new perspective of knowing everything i know now and it’s gonna be awesome

YESSS THIS IS MY FAV THING ABOUT WRITING!!

I have so many jokes and bits that hit different in hindsight (hopefully!) and some of them are funnier and some of them are not funny anymore >:) and in either case it (hopefully!!) makes the reread interesting!

[unknownmusing]

Baldur's Gate - Halsin x Astarion Fanfic: 'Always there to Travel the Same Path which One Walks' - Prologue 1 to 3 (Act 1) (Spawn Astarion and Ascended Astarion Route)

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Note:

Spawn Astarion and Ascended Route will start with same prologue then it will be separate chapters as rest of fic progresses to represent both routes

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Notes:

A Baldur's Gate: Halsin x Astarion fic inspired by the game Baldur Gate 3 and watching ongoing playthrough of it on Youtube

Slight canon diverge with some made up Background stuff for Astarion and other characters

WIP mode as use the wiki fandom and playthroughs to get idea of characters

Title refers to how Astarion and Halsin join up with the rest of the *company ( *will be introduced in later on chapters) but also travel a path together which leads to something more.

Starts off with Astarion's P.O.V

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Prologue - 'A Pale Elf in a Grove' (1 of 3)

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Location - Emerald Grove, Western Heartlands, West Faerun - Approaching Early Morning

Astarion's P.O.V:

"Is Halsin a fool?!!! Why has he brought this 'thing' here!!!?"

"I do not know….it greatly concerns….Archdruid Halsin!!!… We…..yes…..we understand…."

Voices.

Whispering amongst themselves before going silent, footsteps fading into the distance of somewhere which smells moist, lush and fresh - like it's not been tainted by any pollutants - and movement of something large, warm and furry choosing to lay down beside me.

Why couldn't I remember what had happened? What even had happened? Had I been attacked by someone or something?

Those questions remain swirling around my aching head - like I been hit by something very heavy and large - that it is difficult to even force myself to wake up so can check my surroudings, only sink into deeper sleep like I'm being made to do it to help me heal. So different when my Master Cazador treated me - his more of punishment so cruel, unkind and harsh it border on machositic that he didn't really care how many times he hurt me.

I must have whimpered because a soft chuffing noise comes from the large, warm furry thing beside me with wet snout nudging me to force me to roll onto my side to face into a warm furry belly and chest of what scenting register is in fact bear at least I think it is. I want to wake, I need to wake.

But the drowiness is settling in so fast, a soothing calming wave washing over me that find myself relaxing for the first time in centuries, allowing myself to fall asleep against the warmth of the large bear beside me.

TIME SKIP

"Hnngh…..Gaahhh!!!?" It is the sensation of sunlight from above burning it's way up my exposed arm which forces me very rudely awake from the deep, healing slumber I had been placed under trying to get up when realise a large, muscular arm - human?…. No….scenting the air…..again….a Wood Elf - is over my waist effectively trapping me against a very muscular, large and naked Wood elf bearing a tattoo mark on one side of his face and horredenous, but oddly enough appealing scars from no doubt from being attacked on his face as well.

Concerned about promixity of our bodies, I shuffle my lower half backwards away from the Wood elf's groin area only to give out a yelp when the large hand which has been around my waist immediatly yanks me flush against the large, muscular chest forcing me to place both my hands on it - or more accurately on top of the Wood Elf's pecs on both their dusky hued nipples to my embarassment even though this unnamed Wood elf does look like a fine specimen.

The sudden hiss of sunlight touching my exposed skin causes me to thrash soon in their grip, managing to wriggle free to quickly roll over to the shadows.

Collapsing slump up against a base for a statue of a wolf carved from stone, I wince at the stinging ache from the sun-burn on my arm hoping my healing factor kicks in, only to notice the wood elf has woken up looking straight at me.

"It's alright, I won't harm you." the wood elf says, voice so deep, husky and soothing it sends a strange shiver through me at the sametime that luring scent of his sweet, smelling blood reaches me.

It is so tempting, I don't realise I prowled out of the shadows into a shaft of sunlight until I'm scrambling back into them cursing myself with my fangs unsheathing themselves, steam still rising from the sun-burnt wounds until finally wisping away and bits of my burnt skin turned to ash to flutter to the ground

"I…need you….to stay just there…" I warn them, only for them to ignore my warning coming over to kneel down in front of me taking hold of my wrist to pull my arm out straight investigating the damage, seeing when I turn my face to one side to wince with eyes slipping shut or peeking open slightly to watch what he's doing.

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Notes:

Title refers how unexpected emotions begin to form in Astarion that he's not used to and how he loses control to them and Halsin the same.

Third part will deal with introducing the Leader of the Party and their background, plus the start of the Mindflyer attack then moving into Act 1

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Prologue (2 of 3) - 'Losing Control to Unexpected Emotions Rising within One'

Location - Emerald Grove, Western Heartlands, West Faerun - Early Morning

Astarion's P.O.V:

Halsin – as the Druid or Archdruid to be precise of Emerald Grove is called – is an enigma of a Wood Elf, with most of his time discussing about Nature, protecting the Grove and in his spare time doing mostly mundane things which some to admit were interesting to know about:

his whittling of little carvings of animals so detailed it actually fascinated me to watch from afar doing his work; seeing him resist the temptation of honeyed treats being sold by travelling merchants that couldn’t resist haggling with them to include more of new variations every-time they came back to just watch his eyes sparkle and pretend he’s not drooling over them and finally, seeing him in his bear form allowing children to ride on his back.

Looking over to where he’s discussing something highly important with another Druid – a female Half-elf called Jaheira, who keeps on flicking her gaze over to me wariness showing in her eyes - probably about myself.

Deciding not to hang around, I keep myself to the large grove's shadows, avoiding the spots of sunlight to head to the extensive cave-system of the Emerald Grove.

Within the cave-system, I make my way down towards the halfling merchant - Arron - located nearby a Altar busy checking his wares he's ascertained from his travels.

He stiffens though, ears twitching side to side then turns his gaze to look at me leaning up against a rock pillar in the shadows causing him to give out a ‘Tch, it’s you’ turning to face me where crosses his arms over his chest.

“I told you already, Pale Elf, if you want to sample my wares find out who’s pickpocketing around here.” Arron states, forcing me to raise an eyebrow because it sounds like he's accusing me of being the one doing it.

"And you think I have something to do with it. Heh, I would not resort myself to such lowly act." I state back, slipping myself away deciding I need to go hunting to distract myself from the mutiple heartbeats that head up to the main entrance.

Reaching where the gate is, I stop myself just in time.

The sun has risen at it's highest peak meaning the gate area is completely flooded with light leaving no shadows for me to use to reach it.

Choosing to lean up against a pillar, I find myself looking over at it trying to ascertain whether make a dash for it or wait until nightfall to go hunting for Prey.

Tilting my head backwards, my mind floods to fact I've not felt any sense of my Master Cazador trying to will me back to the Lair where I took lured Prey - most ended up dead and flung into giant pit, others turned in Spawn like me or completely disappeared that even asking would have risked the ire of him so never asked.

"You seem lost in thought, silver-tongue." the disdaining, dripping tone of the female druidess half-elf Jaheira reaches my ears, I lower my head down un-leaning myself from the pillar I brush past her quickly refusing to even acknowledge when find myself suddenly yanked backwards by a glowing tendril of energy straight into large area of sunlight I'd been trying to avoid.

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“Jaheira, what have….you done…!!!?”

“You are too soft, Halsin. We cannot trust this, silver-tongue. You must have noticed how ‘it’ avoids the shadows!!!”

“That I already know. It doesn’t mean you act irrational by doing what you did.”

Shuddering into wakefulness, the first thing to reach my nostrils is the scent of wildflowers – a mixture of so many it takes time to list – with my eyes fluttering open to reveal I’m lying naked in a on a bed of vines and wildflowers entwined together in a cocoon with no sunlight penetrating it.

My acute hearing had picked up Halsin berating until finally blessed silence with me having to use my Predator senses to see how many heat signatures are outside of the healing cocoon – only one – with a gap appearing to reveal the large, wood elf.

Realising he may see the circular scar on my back, I try to move myself only for so much agony to shoot through my body I curl into myself with my bandaged hands wrapping around my bandaged waist shaking so much at it.

“Hgnnnhh…..shit…..shit…..”

Cursing under my breath, biting my bottom lip along with his large hands rolling me onto my back – checking me over – until finally a soothing healing wave from both his hands spreads over me. He is leaning over me in the process, I find myself eying the throbbing, pulsing vein in his neck that pumps his lifeforce within his body.

“Is something wrong?” He asks me, so suddenly I don’t know how to give a proper answer to him which may convince him I'm just appreciating his body and not his blood flowing in his veins.

"I…..umm…may I taste…." I begin to ask, only for him to sit back resting his hands on his lap finishing my sentence. "…to taste my blood." it makes me scramble upwards needing to leave only for him to take hold of me turning my chin to force my face into the crook of his neck.

"Drink."

A command, but not a forced, soft and gentle with myself fully turning in his arms to rest up against his large, muscular chest slipping my hand up cradle the back of his head to tilt his head backwards by his soft, hazel brown locks.

Fangs unsheathing themselves, I sink them straight in hearing him give out a stiffening grunt at it knowing he will react to the venom which will give a numbness and pleasured feeling to the Prey being subdued.

All is quiet, except for occasional soft grunts coming from each-time I take a sip of his blood until finally his large arms are pushing me back seeing how drunk I've become on the taste on it - a blush rising on my cheeks, lips coated still in some of it, that it is so addicting it is feat in me trying to avoid going back for more.

Instead, moving myself over him and placing one hand on his chest to push him down to lay flat on his back noting his hazel brown eyes ringed with gold looking up at mine. Putting my hands either side of his head, I bend down my head down to rest my forehead against his wondering should I do it, licking my lips.

“Thank you.” I tell him, finding weird saying it because I’m not used to saying it – I been ingrained in Master Cazador’s rules and have already broken one – before sealing my lips over his, feeling him stiffening underneath me only to respond with soft, equal fervour it is something part of me wants and other is rebelling at it.

I try to pull away, but he pulls me back into devouring my mouth with his own – lips changing position each-time to deepen the kissing between us both, his tongue flicking across them begging admittance so allow for it to happen.

My whole body quivers up against him.

The sensation of his large hands wrapping around my body, one cradling the back of my head and other resting on my back with his warm, moist tongue entwining with mine inside and outside my mouth makes me want to pull away from him.

Managing to release my lips from his, I gasp breathlessly with my face turned to one side willing myself to calm down - use the seductive techniques I use for Prey to take back to Cazador on him.

“Astarion…..look at me.” Halsin says, voice husky with arousal making me turn my face to look up at him seeing how affected he is ��� his pupils dilated, lips still swollen from our kissing and no doubt his aroused below – then continues to speak. “I…. don’t whether I can control myself in what happens next.”

Bringing both my hands up to cup his cheeks, looking up into those hazel brown eyes ringed gold I realise what is happening to me - I'm losing control to unexpected emotions rising up within me.

And it is frightening me.

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Notes:

Connected to Prologue (2 of 3) - 'Losing Control to Unexpected Emotions Rising within One'

Introducing Asdalen - a drow elf with Dark Urge Origins and also Halsin's Half-brother (more will be explained about that later in further one chapters) and Lesia, his adopted fae child; Asdalen will be the main leader of the party and romance partner will be Gale.

What happens to Astarion and Halsin will be told in flashback.

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Prologue (3 of 3) - 'When an Unexpected Event Separates Those Close to Others'

Location - Baldur's Gate, Sword Coast, Western Heartlands - 'Whispering Weave' Tavern near the Harbour - Approaching Mid-Morning 

12 DAYS LATER

Making my way through the streets of Baldur's Gate towards the 'Whispering Weave' Tavern, I keep an eye on Lesia who is running ahead - her wispy fae form so different from the various Baldurians and other travellers walking back and forth - of me.

My mind is thinking about my half-brother Halsin - an Archdruid of the Emerald Grove located in the Western Heartlands, Western Faerun - knowing it's been quite some time we have met up to discuss things or even talk properly.

Approaching the Tavern, which is near the Harbour, I see two people are walking down towards it - though one of them seems to be keeping mostly to the shadows I notice and the other I recognise is Halsin, who spotting me goes to say something when I finally reach the both of them only to bite his bottom lip which his companion notices before flicking his gaze over to me.

Lesia, spotting Halsin runs up to him to greet him and hold out her little hands to be lifted up by him.

I wait to see whether he will do it, part of me - an unknown, uncontrolled side whispers, 'Kill them both' and other horrendous things - and the more rational side - though don't know how long it will last - knows he can't deny her.

Finally, he bends down to lift her up, surprising his silvery white-haired companion beside him that approach though still with caution because it's been quite some time since seen him.

"Hello, little one." Halsin says, smiling softly with his companion - keeping to the shadows - admiring in their own way until finally turns their gaze to me.

Behind the white-bone mask I wear to cover my face a strange, prickling sense that I'm being analysed by a Predator hits me.

My own unknown Predator's senses soon wanting to confront back and tear their throat out.

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Astarion’s P.O.V:

Coming back to Baldur’s Gate after twelve days, I know at some point Cazador will send out my ‘siblings’ to collect me but he doesn’t seem to be in any hurry to do so as myself and Halsin walk through the marketplace close to the Harbour.

Stopping in the shadows of archway, Halsin turns to face me when sees I seem to be not my usual self – my body tone is showing wariness – so brings a hand up to cup my cheek to reassure me everything is alright with him being here for me.

Immediately resting my forehead against his, hands moving to rest own on his large, muscular chest it makes me realise the twelve days and nights we’ve shared together – his soft, breathless kisses he will give me; reassuring me when nightmares overwhelmed and finally, making sure my bloodthirst is sated – it has felt like freedom.

“I…don’t want to leave you….just yet….” I admit, knowing we must go our separate ways with him heading back to the Emerald Grove and myself back to my ‘prison’ kissing him soon on the lips where he uses his other hand to pull me flush up against him.

Around us the noises of the Harbour and the Marketplace reach my ears – Market stallers shouting out the wares; dock workers heading up and down ramps on ships delivering various goods back and forth and Baldurians going about their daily lives – but I’m not listening to it, just relaxing to kiss my ‘Mate’ is giving me.

Finally pulling back from it, licking my lips at his taste, I smile softly up to him slipping one hand down to clasp my fingers with his, while we soon begin to make our way to the Tavern called 'Whispering Weave' to share a last moment drink before going our separate ways.

Discovering that Halsin had a ‘brother’ of some kind is unexpected, because he never mentioned anything about having a family until now so meeting them – who wears long black thief clothing with hood included, plus bone-white mask hiding their face – along with a little fae child called Lesia, it is taking me some time to try and make sense of them.

I can tell they are like me almost – a Predator fighting their own instincts to attack the presence of another Predator in front of them.

Deciding to introduce myself is the better option of being silent and not saying anything to them.

“You have a beautiful child.” I comment, making them turn their gaze to me.

Body language still showing signs of wariness but relaxing enough to respond back to me.

“She’s….Thank you…Umm…” they begin to say, allowing me to introduce myself. “…Astarion Ancunin, a pleasure to meet you…”

“Asdalen.” They nonchalantly reply, causing Halsin to lower the little one wanting to say something but closes his month instead like he knows it may not help the both of them.

Torn between the awkwardness I’m sensing rising between them both, I decide to relieve it by deciding to say something which is mundane yet helps "I'm famished. How about we all get a bite to eat and all have a good chat together. Maybe even hear some of your lute music, Asdalen.' clapping both my hands together seeing how Lesia jumps up and down at hearing the words 'bite to eat' pulling her adopted father's sleeve.

Halsin having composed himself, slips his arm around my waist to pull me against his side and giving me a certain look of 'I didn't know you had an interest in music' it makes my chest ache at the look he gives me. The sudden thought is that I want to know everything about him - how he become Archdruid, what was his childhood like, how did he find out about his brother - and his brother.

Repair what feels like a fragile relationship between them which could easily be broken anytime.

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Location - Baldur's Gate, Sword Coast, Western Heartlands - 'Whispering Weave' Tavern near the Harbour - Mid-Morning

Asdalen’s P.O.V:

“Have you been travelling far?”

“Only to certain areas. There’s been some places refusing travellers entry.”

Drunken laughter, chatter and clinking of mugs fills the air with myself and Lesia sitting with Halsin and Astarion in an alcove at the far back of the Tavern where Astarion sitting next to my half-brother is asking me about my travels.

Most of what I tell him is about how on my travels where noticed Missing Poster had been appearing a lot; some places were wary of new travellers due to whispers about raise of Cultists and more monsters beginning to appear in certain areas.

“I see. To admit, I’ve not noticed….that kind of thing due….” Astarion begins to say only tail off, taking a sip of the wine he’s ordered with Halsin moving a hand to place it over his – squeezing it lightly to reassure the pale, High elf who gives weak smile.

‘You’ve been hiding in the shadows for too long.’ I state internally, not saying it out loud lest the Gur Hunters sitting only a few feet away from where we’re sitting overhear and come over to investigate.

Halsin, is happy. A soft, warm glow Lesia describes it to me in silent communication which reassures my brother will be alright in the relationship he has with Astarion leaving me to think of one person who I miss the most – Gale Dekarios, my lover and chosen Mate.

Where is he now?

Is he coping?

Has he returned to Waterdeep?

“Bard, do you play?” A new voice asks of me, leaving the internal questions in my head unanswered, so turn my face to the source seeing a figure wearing fine refine stands there indicating to the lute in the holder on my back.

“I play, yes. It depends on the crowd though and what they would like to hear.” I reply, seeing the newcomer raise one delicate eyebrow in amusement at it. “And you…. what would you like to hear?” asking them a question back to them.

“Me?! Well, let’s see…” They reply, bringing one hand up to tap their chin in deep thought until give small smirk at me. “How about an original composition. I believe this one should suffice ‘Beautiful Voice of the Past’ for you, Bard.”

A violent visible shudder goes through me, Astarion placing his hand on my arm to pull me back down into my seat – I hadn’t realised I had stood up to confront the newcomer – my mind torn in how they knew about the song – a song I composed only for Gale and no-one else – and who played it.

“I don’t play it for crowds.” I whisper under my breath, voice breaking with so much emotion I get back up with Lesia sensing I need to leave allowing me to pick her up.

Politely excusing myself when brush past the newcomer, I weave through the patrons and tables to reach the main Tavern door or would have if it hadn’t been for sudden explosion sending myself and her still in my arms flying backwards over the Tavern bar into the alcohol drink-rack hard.

Followed by tinkling noise of smashed apart bottles of wine, beer and brandy to name a few.

The wooden shelf collapses under my weight, forcing my body to fall to the floor in wounded, bleeding heap of a mess with Lesia beginning to whimper in my arms – her little fae body fading in and out focus due to being very frightened of what is happening – seeing the blurred image of the Tavern patrons running out in all directions only to be cruelly snatched up by what appear to be Mindflyers.

Another explosion rocks the tavern, sending shockwaves through the floorboards which begin to crack and splinter in all directions – sending shards of wood flying in all directions – feeling below me the wooden floor give out on myself with Lesia being wrenched out of my arms by something leaving me to fall into the blackness of the underground cellar.

The faint roars of my Brother’s Wildshape, Lesia crying out my name again and again reach me with Astarion lunging himself towards the collapsed hole made by the falling floorboards to grab hold of my wrist trying in vain to pull me back up – even though I can see he’s struggling due the wounds he’s ascertained.

“Asdalen, quick…..give me your other hand before the next wave hits!!!? It seems to be full-scaled attack on Baldur’s Gate!!!? We need….NO!!!! GET THE HELL AWAY ME…!!!!?” He cries out, only to panic heavily looking over at something or someone I cannot see due to my disadvantaged angle.

A fast, but to me blurred, inky-black shadow speeds it's over to him in such a blink of an eye to knock him over to the other side, leaving me with nothing to grab hold onto to help pull me back up to safety.

Falling for quite some time, I finally reach the bottom of what turns out to be the underground lower cellar for the Tavern with sickening, bone-crunching thud – worse agony than what my own people, the Drows have done to me – it shatters everything instantly, finding myself going limp at it immediatly.

So, this is how I die?

Separated from my half-brother who just met again?

I never got to even tell him…..everything……

Halsin…..Astarion……Lesia…

My thoughts wander in my head, my body is lying shattered beyond compare and any chance of moving is not probable with how serious my injuries are from the shards of glass embedded in it and large wood splinters.

My blood can distantly feel is pooling out from underneath my body or over it to trickle off it to cover the cobbled stones of the cellar in various array of crimson petals.

The unknown, uncontrolled side seems to be gleefully laughing in my head at the demise – death by falling, shattering every bone in my body and allowing my lifeforce to drain away.

It's the last thing I hear before blackness swoops in dark like raven’s wings and I remember nothing thereafter.

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[the-ipre]

I have some dead boy detectives fics on the stove come talk to me about themmmm

[harapeveco]

Half my fics are like this….sorry it will happen again

[aparticularbandit]

The Illusion of Choice: Junko Enoshima and Things Fall Apart

Summary: Junko finds Monika in the room with the shattered teacup, only there’s nothing there to clean.  Maybe there was never anything to clean there in the first place.

“Got a problem, Moni-kun?  Am I fucking with the game too much?”

Chapter Rating: T. Fic Rating: M for existential dread, suicidal thoughts, mention/implication of an eating disorder, and implied/referenced psychological self-harm. This will only get worse.

AO3

previous chapter

Outside in the hall, Junko catches Yuri shivering so hard that the kettle and cups on her tray clatter.  She waits for a few seconds as the door swings shut behind her.  There’s the correct action for the route – to comfort Yuri, to set her hand on Yuri’s back, to take the tray from her, etc. etc. (it’s all so boring) – and then there’s the correct action for her.

….

No, no, there’s no correct action for Junko specifically to take.  She could continue the route for whatever the Good End with Yuri will be, which is easy and predictable and boring and exactly what Chiaki expects her not to do—

Ah.

Well, at least she can fuck with Chiaki.  She’s just as real as Junko is.

Which is to say only slightly more than the girls in this game.

Junko steps forward towards Yuri, one hand out as though to place it on her shoulder, only for Yuri to spin towards her, the tea tray clattering even more as she does.  She searches Yuri’s eyes – wide and manic in a way that reminds of her of that idiot who fucked over her last Game – and stands still.  “You okay?  That was a lot in there—”

Yuri doesn’t say anything.  She just shakes her head wordlessly.

“Okay, well, why don’t we go in one of the other rooms, yeah?”  Junko places a hand on gently on Yuri’s arm and leads her across the hall to the nearest empty classroom.  “We can put the tray down and sit and….”  She holds the door open for Yuri again and then smiles as gently as possible.  “Why don’t we make some tea?”

~

Yuri calms as they walk down the hallway to the water fountain, the pitcher in one hand.  “I’ve never…never done anything like that before,” she admits, her voice soft.  “It’s normally so hard for me to stand up for myself, but with you there, Junko, I…I didn’t have such a hard time of it.”  A smile dances along her lips, but she looks up and meets Junko’s eyes with surprising confidence.  “It felt good.”

“It’s always good to stand up for yourself,” Junko finds herself saying, but it isn’t Yuri she sees when she says it.  Instead, she remembers a moment not so long ago, a moment that the meat sack had but she didn’t, when she’d said something nearly exactly the same to Mikan, and she continues in much the same fashion.  “If they were really your friends, they wouldn’t treat you like that.  Friends aren’t cruel.”

Unlike Mikan, Yuri shakes her head.  “I don’t think they were being cruel.”  She presses her lips together in thought and then starts filling the pitcher with water.  “Natsuki, maybe, but Sayori and Monika—”

“Monika was cruel by not standing with our happiness, by making it into a debate about whether or not we could be ourselves in the clubroom,” Junko says as the pitcher fills.  “We weren’t hurting anyone.”  She leans her back against the wall and crosses her arms.  “Natsuki was just jealous, and so was Sayori.”

Yuri finishes filling the pitcher and straightens, uncertain.  “Sayori?”

“Sure.  Sayori’s supposed to be my best friend, right?  How do you think she feels,” Junko says, turning just enough to place a finger under Yuri’s chin and tilt her head back, “seeing me choose you over her?”

Yuri flushes a bright red and moves her chin from Junko’s finger as she starts to walk back to the other classroom.  “I-I-I didn’t know that…that that was what you…what you were doing.”

Junko holds the door open for her again, but this time, she doesn’t say anything while Yuri enters the room, while the door clicks shut behind them, while Yuri starts making their tea.  Instead, she waits for the pressure to build in the tense silence between them – a good tense, not a bad one.  (Probably.)

Eventually, as she hands Junko’s cup to her, Yuri asks, her head still lowered, unable to meet Junko’s eyes, “Is it?  What you’re doing?”

Junko’s gaze flicks to the door as it slowly opens, then she covers Yuri’s hands with her own and holds them there until Yuri looks up and meets her eyes.  “Is that what you want?  For me to choose you over Sayori?”

“Y-y-yes—”

“Ooooohhhhh.”

Sayori, hovering just inside the doorway, cuts Yuri off.  She teeters back and forth on one heel, fingers fidgeting together as Yuri drops the teacup.  Her gaze flicks to Junko briefly and then away, unable to meet her eyes; her face grows pale, eyes haunted and broken.  Not the first of her despair, but near the height of it, maybe.

Junko feels nothing.

Not even the boiling hot tea sinking through her shoes into her skin.

(That one’s probably the limits of the game, though, or the limits of being in a digital space, or the limits of only ever having been a digital creation.  She can remember pain of all sorts, but she doesn’t have a physical body reacting to her brain’s imagining of it – technically speaking, she doesn’t have a real brain at all.  The cronies she’d set at odds with each other in her own Game – they’d still had bodies, they’d still had brains trying to process everything she’d put them through (everything they’d put each other through) – but Junko?  This Junko?  She only has memories.

Memories, and the brief imagining of what pain might feel like if she did have boiling tea sinking into her skin.)

“S-Sayori?” Yuri stutters out, turning to her with wide, panicked eyes.  “I-I didn’t mean to—”

“We…we finished the vote,” Sayori says, unable to meet Yuri’s eyes.  “You can…you’re free to….”  Her look grows pained, and she swallows.  Hard.  “Monika would….”  Her voice grows tight, then calm all at once.  “We voted in your favor.”

“O-oh.”

Junko places a hand gentle on Yuri’s shoulder.  “We should go.”  When Yuri turns to her, she gives her an encouraging smile.  It’s not a lie – she wants Yuri to join the others first.  Or…maybe it’s more that she wants Yuri to leave the room first.  When Yuri starts to turn back – eyes going to the tea set, to the shattered cup on the floor – she says, just as gentle, “I’ll take care of it.  After the meeting, okay?  Right now, we shouldn’t leave them waiting.”

Yuri nods, uncertain, and leaves the room ahead of them.

Which gives Junko a moment with Sayori.

“Wish you’d voted differently now, huh?”

A flash of pain crosses Sayori’s eyes.  “N-n-no,” she stutters out, and she turns to Junko with astonishment.  “You’re my best friend, Ryo—”  She cuts herself off, corrects herself.  “Jun­-chan.  I want you to be happy.”  Her gaze flicks to the door, where Yuri just left.  “With Yuri or Natsuki or Monika or…or anyone.”

Junko steps closer, her voice growing softer.  “Even if it just leaves you alone?”

Sayori flinches.  Then she looks up with a forced smile.  “I think…I think I’m going to go home, Jun-chan.  Will you tell Monika for me?  She’ll….”  She swallows again and nods to herself.  “I’ll clean up for you, and then I’ll just go home.”

“Mmhm.”  Junko presses her lips together.  “See that you do.”

~

There’s no time for poems – or it’s less that there’s no time and more that there’s no interest.

Sayori’s gone, Natsuki’s upset both over losing the vote she’d unintentionally forced in the first place and over Sayori’s sudden disappearance, Yuri’s startled like a spooked kitten and extremely uncertain of herself, and Monika’s—

“The school festival’s on Monday,” Monika says, as though this isn’t news to anyone (although it is to Junko – not surprising, because a festival feels like the proper fourth act or epilogue ending to a dating sim like this, or the place where the plot shifts into more horror topes and everything goes wrong – just news).  “Natsuki, you’re planning on making cupcakes, right?  Sayori and I will get the pamphlets with our poems ready—”

“What poems?” Junko interjects, head tilting to one side as she sits atop her desk and tangles strands of her bright red hair around one finger.  “I don’t remember anything about poems for a pamphlet.”

“If you’d been here—” Natuski starts to say.

“Poems to perform,” Monika cuts her off.  She sets her palms flat on the teacher’s desk and leans forward.  “I wasn’t sure if you would be joining us or not—”

“I’ll join in.”  Junko grins as Monika’s teeth grit together.  “I love performances.  I’m quite good at them.  You’ll get loads of—”

“And Yuri,” Monika continues as though Junko hasn’t said anything, “you’ll….”  She raises a hand, gestures in the air, and then lets her hand fall flat.  “Honestly, I’m not sure what you should do.”

Yuri’s face pales, and she glances away.  “I’m…I’m irrelevant—”

Junko lets the word sit in the air for a few seconds, just long enough for Natsuki and Monika’s lack of a response to become blatant, and then says just when her own would be most pointed, “Pamphlets and cupcakes and no banners or streamers or anything?”  Her head tilts innocently to one side.  “That all sounds a bit…a bit boring, if I’m honest.  Cupcakes are a good draw, but how are people going to know they’re even there?  A festival – there’s gonna be good food everywhere and—”

“I’ll do it.”  Yuri stands up a little straighter.  “I’ll take on the atmosphere.”

But Monika doesn’t even seem to acknowledge Yuri’s relief as her gaze settles, again, on Junko.  “And you, Jun-chan?” she asks, clear annoyance in her voice.  “What will you do?  We have all of the bases covered.  Do you have any use at—”

“I’ll help the others, if they’ll have me.”  Junko crosses her legs – one long leg over the other – and wraps her arms about her waist as though she’s uncertain.  (She’s never uncertain.  Not anymore.)  “I’m sure Yuri would love help making all of the posters and banners and everything – she won’t need it, but it’s certainly a lot, isn’t it?”  When she sees Yuri smile with a bare flush, she turns to Natsuki and says, as gently as she can manage, “And I would love to help you make cupcakes, if you’ll have me.  I know I’ve been a bit of an upset and a right jerk, and I’d like to make it up to you.”  Before Natsuki can snipe at her (and she feels it coming, she does), she says, “And I have quite a manga collection that I’d like to talk over with you.”

Natsuki’s eyes widen and then light up.  “You’re into…into manga—”

“Fine then.”  Monika claps her hands together.  “Everyone’s helping everyone else.  Good job, everyone!”  But her cheer sounds fake and pained.  “I think that’s quite enough of club activities for the day.  Take the weekend to prepare, and then Monday I’ll see you all for the festival!”  She turns away from them, lowers her tightened shoulders, and then walks out.

Junko glances after her without a hint of concern as she listens to Natsuki and Yuri – they exchange phone numbers with her, as well as set up the weekend activities: Saturday to set atmosphere with Yuri and Sunday to bake cupcakes with Natsuki, so that they’ll be as fresh as possible for the festival on Monday.  She barely pays attention to all of it – to any of it, other than who she’ll be helping first – and waits for them to leave before leaving herself.

She finds Monika in the room with the shattered teacup, only there’s nothing there to clean.  Maybe there was never anything to clean there in the first place.

“Got a problem, Moni-kun?  Am I fucking with the game too much?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  Monika takes the tea tray and its set in one hand and rests it on her hip.  “Go have fun with your new friends.  I don’t have time to waste caring about you.”

When Junko tries to follow Monika back into the hallway, she finds herself back in her room at the house that’s supposed to be hers – the one with all the posters, not the other one.  She chuckles lightly.  “Sure, Moni-kun,” she mutters, expecting that the other girl can still hear her.  “Sure, you don’t.”

[waywardsalt]

.

[everythingisromant1c]

It's Always Been You - Chapter 1

james potter x fem!reader

summary - Only a few more days remain until the school year comes to a close, though your mind is more focused on your feelings for your best friend James. Well, that and his unignorable feelings for Lily Evans. Though, with the summer approaching, who knows what could happen?

wc [6.3k]

all chapters | Chapter 2 ->

James had the kind of warmth that was like melted caramel—stuck on your teeth, but something sweet that you absolutely never wanted to forget the taste of. Not that you wanted to taste James, or that you knew what he tasted like- God, you were getting off topic. What you were trying to say was: you were in love with James Potter.

It'd been you and him for as long as you could remember. Summers spent together underneath the rare English sun before you were even old enough for Hogwarts, winters spent at the scenic magical school once you finally were, and never a day separated from each other.

Being around him so much growing up could've easily led you to see him in a completely unromantic light. But, of course, that's the opposite of what fate had in store for you.

You first realized you loved him as more than just a best friend in the fourth year, on a night you'd been crying over Potions, something you did more often than you would've liked to admit. You were a good student, some would say an overachiever thanks to your parents, though you struggled to even get a decent grade when it came to that class.

You could remember the specific night you were referring to vividly: You were sitting on the couch in the Gryffindor common room, head hung low as you tried to silence your frustrated sniffling when you heard the sound of footsteps coming from the boys' dormitories.

Even if you tried to hide it, James could always tell right away when something was wrong. He was your best friend, after all. He'd joined you on the couch and only had to ask a few questions here and there before you were sobbing into his chest.

He held you tight, his presence warm like always as you leaned into him. He ran a hand through your hair and you could recall effortlessly how nice it felt, how it took your mind off your sadness like his hands had pulled the feeling right out of you.

Once you'd stopped crying, he took your hand and led you into the hallway, where you'd told him all about how bad at brewing potions you seemed to be and replayed with teary eyes all the nights you'd spent hunched over textbooks, only to mess up all your potions in class. He listened the entire time wordlessly as you both walked, his hand squeezing yours.

Then he brought you to the kitchens where the house elves greeted you frantically with some worry. James politely requested that they make your favorite, Strawberry Shortcake, and they easily obliged because they loved him, just like everyone else did.

He didn't eat anything himself but made sure you were cheered up before leading you back to the common room, where you both sat and talked on the couch for however long until you fell asleep. You still weren't sure to this day what had happened after that, but you woke up safe and sound in your dorm, tucked away with a still-warm plated breakfast next to you on your bedside table.

You made sure to thank him with a small thank you note for being so sweet. Every time he did anything like that, anything so achingly sweet and achingly James, you did the same, though you felt all the tiny notes you slipped him would never be enough of a thank you.

That tradition started almost three years ago and, even if it hurt you a little each day, you still loved him. You'd write a million little notes if you could show him just how much you did. And it didn't help that he was so bloody handsome, with chocolate curls and eyes like the embers of a fire that seemed to light you ablaze when they were aimed your way. No matter how lovely you found him, you'd realized over the years that it wasn't your love he so desperately wanted, but your friend's, your dorm-mate's—Lily's.

And that was how the story had ended every time you told it to yourself, and to Marlene, if only to remind yourself of it. It was something you did practically for survival because you seemingly couldn't go a day without the world testing you. Today was no different.

"Good evening, Evans."

The boy beside you gave your red-haired friend his most charming, James Potter smile as she sat down for dinner in the Great Hall. She regarded it with mild annoyance.

"Potter," she responded with tight lips. It didn't matter that she'd said it with clear irritation or that Sirius was chuckling to himself at the interaction. It still had James's eyes lighting up with an energy only he could have after a long day of classes at the end of the term. You didn't know what to do with the sight and distracted yourself by moving your food around with your fork.

"How do you guys think you did on our last potions essay?" Peter peeked over at all of you curiously.

You shrugged. "Not sure. My paragraph about Scintillation Solution was-"

Sirius interrupted the both of you with an ever-so-dramatic groan. "Must we spend our dinner talking about school? There's only two more days left before summer vacation. My mind is already there."

Peter raised his hands in innocence. "Was only asking."

"You wouldn't want to talk about school even if it was September," drawled Remus, gathering a pile of food on his plate.

"Is that so wrong?" Sirius rolled his eyes, looking around for support before his sight landed on the boy across from him. "Oi, James. What would you rather spend your time talking about? Some potions essay, or your much more interesting summer plans?"

The boy in question had his head resting in his palm, cheek pressing against his fingers, eyes far away. "What do you reckon Evans does over the summer?"

Groans sounded throughout the table, a mixture of grumbling and eye rolls, none of which had any effect on James.

"Say." He turned to you like he was deep in thought. "You and Evans are friends. What does she do over the summer?"

James stared at you like a child full of wonder. You forced yourself not to react to both his insistent prying about Lily and also the way he'd turned to give you his full and quite frankly dizzying attention, gazing at you expectantly.

Sirius cut in before you had to give him an answer. "Prongs, leave the poor girl alone, and let us all share one meal without you drooling all over the place."

James frowned. "C'mon," he said, throwing an arm around you boyishly. "Our girl here isn't bothered by it, right?" He shook you by the shoulders a bit, forever a lighthearted spirit. "Everyone knows she's my number one wingman." Something thumped in your chest, a twinge of awkwardness pulling at your features and weakening whatever form of a smile you offered him. Despite that, he seemed satisfied by it and moved to glare at Sirius. "And if anyone drools Padfoot, it's you."

Sirius squinted. "Very funny." The long-haired boy picked up a roll and bit into it, and you winced as he spoke with his mouth full. "Even as a dog, I have more self-control than you."

"Right," sang Remus, and he laughed under his breath at your disgusted expression. "Enough of them. What are you lot doing over summer vacation?"

You turned away from Sirius and James and focused on Remus's question, also choosing to ignore the way James's arm still hung around your shoulders warmly.

"My dad's making me get an internship at the Ministry," grieved Peter as he played with his food. "Says it's time for me to start 'being a man'."

Sirius gave him a hard pat on the back. "Don't worry Pete, you're plenty manly in my eyes." You watched as he smirked and rolled your eyes. He noticed and frowned jokingly towards you. "And what about miss 'wingman' over there?"

"She's betraying us, remember?" cut in James sorely.

You sighed from beside him. "I told you I didn't have a choice."

Peter looked between the two of you. "A choice in what?"

You gave James a look before turning back to the rest of the group. "My parents are having us stay in France for practically the whole summer and James is mad about it."

"France, huh?" Sirius smirked and turned to you with raised brows. "Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?"

You immediately cringed and rolled your eyes. Remus followed suit. "You're disgusting."

Sirius's laughter turned to offense and lowered brows, staring between you and Remus. "Since when do you both understand French?"

Remus smugly shrugged. "Since you started using it to get away with saying inappropriate things."

Peter frowned in confusion. "What did he say?"

You and Remus both shook your heads and went back to eating. Sirius scoffed. "Oh come on, lighten up. That was plain funny." You held back a grin around your fork as Sirius continued. He looked towards James again. "Back me up here, Prongs."

He didn't get a response, James's thoughts clearly occupied with something—or someone—else. You followed his line of vision, seeing it locked on Lily from across the table, who looked like she was now getting up to take her leave. You felt James's posture perk up in your peripheral.

"What do you reckon my odds are now that it's almost summer?" He didn't need to give context for all of you to know what he meant. You each shared a foreboding look.

"About the same as always, mate," breathed Sirius, eyeing Lily. "Or less."

"I don't know," shrugged James, something hopeful glimmering in his gaze. "I have a good feeling about this one."

You knew James, so you knew nothing any of you could've said would've changed his mind in that moment anyway, and soon enough you felt the cool draft of the Great Hall return to your shoulders as James removed his arm from around you. He stood up from his seat.

"Wish me luck mates." He winked hurriedly and jogged to catch up with Lily as she moved towards the exit. The sight of him calling after her, shoulders raised nervously with his hands in his pockets, had your stomach churning.

"Is anyone gonna stop him?" asked Peter, though he watched the interaction as he ate like he was sat in a theater.

Sirius shook his head slowly, eyes locked on the scene in the same way. "Seems like the poor bloke needs to learn his lesson the hard way. Even if it is for the hundredth time."

"Don't say that," you cut in, feeling defensive of James and his unwavering hope. "Who knows what she'll say? Maybe she'll say yes this time."

The three boys turned towards you at your words, each sporting their own look of poorly hidden bewilderment. Before you could scold them, the sound of Lily's voice rang through the large room loud enough for the four of you to hear without strain.

"No, Potter!" A fire was already well-lit behind her voice. The way the sound seemed to echo throughout the already-loud room made you cringe as people began to turn their heads. "I knew you were dense, but the mere fact that you'd think I'd still considergoing out with you after all this time is just-" she shook her head, scoffing hysterically. "You're mad."

Sirius mouthed an 'uh oh' before turning back to the commotion. You saw James put a hand out placatingly towards Lily. "Evans-"

"No!" She pointed a finger at him. "I thought maybe by the end of this year you'd come to your senses, but of course, I was wrong. I swear to Merlin, will you ever just leave me alone?"

Most of the talking in the Great Hall had come to a stop at this point. You couldn't see James's face, but you were sure however he looked wasn't enough to stop Lily in her tracks.

"I mean seriously!" She shouted exasperatedly. "When will you get it through that inflated head of yours that I will never say yes to going out with you?"

The silence that had taken over the room was something you could most definitely hear, feeling the way it weighed heavily on everyone before chatter broke out seconds later. There were a few wolf whistles here and there, and soon enough Lily was stomping out of the hall, the room going back to its regular volume.

James returned to his spot at the table with a look on his face that you couldn't read, though his cheeks were flushed a noticeable pink. You felt like saying something to him then, but weren't sure what.

"We're sorry, mate," chimed Sirius before you could think of what to say. He reached across the table to pat James on the shoulder. "She doesn't know what a great lad she's missing out on."

"Yeah," chirped Peter with a hopeful grin.

"I know, I know," fawned James, and he waved a charming hand. "I'm the greatest." His usual jokes seemed to satisfy the others for the rest of dinner, but you didn't like the way his smile dimmed when he thought no one was looking.

The five of you began your trek back to the Gryffindor common room for the night, walking through the golden, poorly-lit hallways carefreely. Sirius and Peter were having some sort of debate over Quidditch towards the front of the group, nothing out of the ordinary, but it didn't escape you how James had added very little to the conversation. And if you knew James, which you did, you knew he could never pass up an opportunity to talk about the sport.

That and the muted pull of the smiles he offered whenever you looked over at him had you taking his hand and pulling him into an empty corridor as the rest of the group continued walking. You waited for a moment until the sounds of laughter and chatter from the other three and anyone else in the hallway faded away. James watched you the whole time with furrowed brows.

"What's wrong?" he asked, and you narrowed your eyes at him disbelievingly, though he seemed genuinely concerned, his eyes flickering across your face hurriedly. You ignored his question.

"Are you alright?" Your eyes were alight with concern. He stared blankly at you. "You know, after what Lily said?"

You watched as the light from a nearby torch danced subtly over his features. They morphed from confusion to something more delicate as he recognized just what you were talking about.

"I told you guys don't worry about that." He offered a breath of a laugh and ran a hand through his unruly brown curls. His words did nothing to convince you of anything.

"I know, but," you nodded to him with your chin. "Are you alright?"

Your words came out slow, meaning every last syllable. You'd be a fool if you let his quick responses put an end to your concern for him. James never failed to put on a confident front, a habit he'd grown much too used to for your liking. It didn't matter how many jokes he threw at you; you could always see past it.

It took James a few seconds to answer this time, a soft crease burrowing itself between his brows. "Yeah," he said, Adam's apple bobbing slightly in the low lighting, the proud lift of his chin lowering subtly as he looked down at you. " 'Course."

Your head was tilted to the side as you gave him a desperate look that seemed to run right through him. "James." When he didn't say anything back you continued. "You're allowed to be upset, you know. I mean, it was pretty brutal. And the whole school was watching, and she just kept going on and on-

"Alright," James stopped you, shaking his head amusedly as the creeping of a smile appeared at the corners of his mouth. "No need to replay it. We were both there."

You liked that he finally seemed more lighthearted, though his voice had a softness to it that told you it was more of a sore subject than he was letting on. You took one of his hands in yours, his fingers callused but gentle. "Are you sure you don't wanna talk about it at all?"

He observed you for a moment, considering your words. "Yeah," he told you. He looked down at your hands, and then back up at you. "I just-" He stopped and shook his head. You nodded as you listened, slightly squeezing his hand for him to continue. He let out a low sigh. "I really thought that maybe she'd come around, at least eventually. And I know I was stupid for it, but-"

"You're not stupid, James." You felt tones of sadness creep up within yourself. "You just fancy her, is all."

The words left your lips meaningfully and left a bitter taste behind. You didn't let yourself think about the fact that you were comforting your best friend over the sadness of unrequited feelings, all while harboring your own feelings—feelings for him. You wanted to slap yourself silly.

You supposed it was partially your fault, the secrecy. You could tell the others, though you got the feeling sometimes that they somewhat knew already. Most importantly, you could tell James. Though, really, you couldn't. Not if you wanted to keep him by your side, and for way too many other painstaking reasons that you didn't even want to think about, at least not more than you already had to.

"I need to know," James began, and you saw the ghost of something vulnerable flickering in his hazel eyes like the firelight in the halls. He looked at you with intent as his hand still held yours, words slow. "You're one of Lily's best friends. Do you think I'll ever have a chance with her?"

Your stomach churned at his question, and you didn't know what was worse: the fact that you were playing wingman for James, or the fact that he still had some hope left in him after all that you'd heard Lily say to him that night. You pursed your lips unsurely. "It's hard to say, James."

He sighed and loosened the tie that was around his neck, the unbuttoned collar of his shirt falling more freely. You had a hard time prying your eyes away from the sight, but you made yourself.

You realized in that moment you had the power to end all of his pining now and forever, to get him to give up on the crush that had caused him so many days of wanting, you so many nights of jealousy. But how could you break the heart of your best friend?

"I don't know for sure." You spoke cautiously, watching the fragility behind the way James was looking at you. "All I can say is that right now she's ... It doesn't look like she's quite fond of you at the moment." You gave it some more thought. "Or for the past few moments."

James ran a hurried hand over the back of his neck, looking up instead of at you as you continued speaking. "Just don't force it, alright? Give it some time. Give it the summer, even. And if in the end she still can't see what a funny, sweet guy she's missing out on, then all that means is that it wasn't meant to be, as much as you might want it to be."

His eyes seemed to search yours for a moment, and then he lowered his head. Your eyebrows pulled sympathetically.

"And handsome." James peeked up at you

You frowned. "What?"

"You forgot to add 'handsome' to your list." He gave you one of those lopsided grins that made your stomach do backflips, and then he scratched his head. "What was it that you said? Funny, sweet, talented, has a toned six-pack-"

"Okay, now I think you're imagining some of the things on that list."

"Am I?" He laughed, tipping his head at you, and your heart sped up its rhythm in your chest. You'd spent enough summers with him to know he definitely was not imagining the 'toned six-pack' part. You sighed, forcing down your thoughts and shaking your head at his cocky smile. After a moment, he stood up slightly straighter. "You're the best friend I could ever ask for, you know that right?"

You smiled, your heart half warm and half aching. James's gaze was filled with more adoration than you knew what to do with. Maybe you were the 'best friend he could ever ask for', sure, but your list of qualifications ended there in his mind, that much you knew.

James's hold on your hand tightened until he was pulling you towards him, into his chest as he wrapped his arms around your waist. His hands stayed there, feather-light as yours came to hug the planes of his shoulders. Hugging James was something you'd done a thousand times in your life, yet you still felt nervous under his touch at that moment. You breathed into the hug, only letting go when he pulled away, and the content smile he gave you was brighter than it'd been the entire night.

You were satisfied then, remembering how you'd trailed off from the rest of the group and motioning with your head to the hallway to your right. James nodded, you both walked in a sweet silence until you reached the common room, entering hand in hand and coming to a stop between the staircases to either of your dorms.

"I'll see you in the morning?" James raised his brows slightly, and you nodded.

"Sounds like a plan."

He nodded back at you happily. Not yet dropping your hand, he pulled you in close and whispered a "thank you," delicately by your ear. It was a breath that left as fast as it came but had you fighting a shudder at its softness. You didn't say anything back but smiled in a way of saying 'of course'.

He raised the hand that had been holding yours and laid a fluttering touch of his lips against your knuckles. He did it as if it didn't knock the fight right out of your knees. Then he turned and headed up the stairs for the night with one last look your way, and you didn't have to fake the fondness in your gaze that followed him.

After he left, you stood there silently, feeling the natural way your eyes shifted to the floor and the way your heart felt heavier by the second. You drummed your fingers against the side of your leg with fervor, knowing better than anyone that if you didn't get to bed soon before heartbroken thoughts of James would takeover, you wouldn't sleep a wink.

You willed your legs to go up the staircase to your own dorm, opening the door and slipping in with what you hoped was enough stealth not to draw the attention of your roommates. Of course, it wasn't nearly stealthy enough.

"There you are." Marlene sat on her bed next to a pile of parchment, something that surprised you since classes were coming to a close, but Marlene never let procrastination scare her. "I've been meaning to ask for your help on-"

She stopped once she saw the dejected look that must've been morphing your features, one that told her that something was most definitely wrong. "What happened?"

You knew if you started talking about it now, you wouldn't be able to stop. "Nothing, really." You distracted yourself, working on untying your shoes.

Marlene didn't let you get away that easily, sitting up straight in her bed. "You're good at many things, but lying isn't one of them."

You turned around to face her, looking down into her knowing stare and feeling yourself break a little. Like it was against your own will, you sat down on the bed next to her, voice small. "It's just about James, is all."

Marlene paused in her tracks, tilting her head up at you. She gave you a look that said that nothing was ever just about James, or at least not anything that wasn't worth an hour-long session talking session. Before you could say anything more, out walked Lily from the bathroom, hair still dripping from the shower she must have just finished.

The way you two both went silent was certainly noticeable enough, Lily frowning over towards you. "What's wrong?"

It wasn't that you didn't trust Lily—she had been your friend for as long as you'd been roommates, which you'd been since first-year. But you couldn't imagine what it would be like telling her about your unrequited feelings for James, the same boy she'd spent years complaining about in agony.

Marlene saved you before you even could begin to start scrambling for a cover-up. "We were just talking about how badass you were when you yelled at Potter earlier."

At the mention of the scene, Lily quickly cringed and shook her head. "I wish that whole thing never had to have happened in the first place." She turned towards the mirror that hung on the wall, drying her hair with a towel somewhat aggressively. "I still can't believe the audacity of that boy." She lifted a shoulder. "I can't say it didn't feel kinda good to tell him off though." You could hear a little amusement in her voice, but she hurriedly turned away from the mirror to acknowledge you. "Sorry, I know he's your friend and all."

You waved your hand towards her. "Don't be. I know how James can get. He does need some sense knocked into him sometimes. Especially when it comes to you."

Lily nodded, seeming to wholeheartedly agree. "Yeah, well, I'm not completely sorry I had to be the one to do it." With a small smirk playing at her lips, she walked back into the bathroom again, leaving you and Marlene alone again.

Now that you'd let on to Marlene that you were having troubles with James again, she was eager to make you tell her every detail. You told her all about that night, and the way you'd continuously acted as James's wingman, keeping your own feelings pushed down in your stomach until you felt sick full of them.

"I know it's ridiculously pathetic." You stooped your head at your sad case and the sympathetic look she gave you. "I just don't know what else I'm supposed to do. He's my best friend."

Marlene had moved to sit cross-legged beside you on the bed, so pulling you to lay your head against her side was all too easy. "I know you don't like hearing my advice," she began.

You knit your brows. "That's not true."

"Sure." She gave you a look of skepticism. "All I'm saying is, have you ever thought about just telling him how you feel?"

You lifted your head from her shoulder at that, lips parted in disbelief.

"I know, I know," she began before you could say anything. "I'm crazy. But you're going to have to sooner or later. Either you tell him or you get over him."

Her words, harsh but the absolute truth, had you falling back down to lay on her shoulder again, feeling once more burdened with the weight of your feelings. The prospect of doing either of those things seemed impossible.

"I wish it was that simple."

Marlene tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear comfortingly. "What would be simple is me punching that bloke in the face. I'm seriously one more crying session of yours away from having him shove his wand up his own-"

"Marlene!" You dropped your jaw at her, which she seemed to find highly amusing as she leaned back against the headboard with a grin.

"Only joking, of course." As she looked down at you, her smile gave way to a more sober look. "All jokes aside though, I hate seeing you like this. I care about you too much."

Your heart swelled for the girl beside you, despite the dull ache it had seemed to have picked up over the years when your brain stationed itself on this topic for too long—You hated the feeling.

You'd never wanted to fall for James, but how could you not? The fond years spent together had all built up to how you felt now; the way your heart seemed to beat twice as fast when he was around, the way every smile from him felt like it was handcrafted just for you, an addictive feeling, and the way he was always so sweet with you. Not to mention, he was ridiculously handsome, a fact that never seemed to leave you.

You knew for a fact he didn't feel the same way towards you, not after seeing the way he pined over someone else, someone who was far from being you. If you could wake up tomorrow and shake the feelings you had for him for good, you'd do it gladly. But you knew from experience it was never that easy.

"I care about you too," you told Marlene, your voice hushed to a whisper. You weren't sure how late it was, but sleep seemed like a sweet escape at that moment.

You talked lowly for a few more minutes before wishing Marlene goodnight, doing the same to Lily when she headed off to bed. Soon enough you did the same, tucking yourself into your own bed and forcing your mind to calm itself.

It didn't take long before your efforts to fall asleep became efforts to simply stop seeing James's face behind the darkness of your eyelids. Merlin, you thought. You really were a lost cause. How many more nights of the same you could take, you weren't sure. All you knew then was that you were incredibly tired, and incredibly in love with your best friend.

The final two days of the school year came to an end in the blink of an eye, and it seemed like almost no time had passed at all as you found yourself taking the Hogwarts Express back home. For most of the train ride you'd all stacked up on sweets for the summer, buying as much as you could from the trolly, though James wouldn't let you even reach for your own money despite much arguing from you. Some from Sirius as well, who pinned James's generosity as favoritism until you were somehow all discussing gender inequality as you amusedly chewed on a chocolate frog.

When the compartment you shared with the boys took on a quietness that must've come from tiredness as well as full stomachs, you snuck out to say goodbye to the girls a few compartments down.

Lily, Marlene, Mary, and Alice greeted you with bright eyes and much laughter as you sat down to chat with them, something you did on every train ride when you needed an escape from the four boys .

The others had fallen into a conversation of their own, allowing you and Marlene to talk amongst yourselves quietly. She nudged your shoulder.

"How's everything been with-" she raised her brows at you, eyes blown wide suggestively, though she didn't need to give many hints for you to understand what she meant.

"Better, I guess." Truthfully, it had been the same, but you weren't fully sure of how much 'joking' Marlene had been doing when threatening to knock some sense into James, to put it mildly. "Don't worry."

She gave you a motherly, almost scolding look, before lightening back up, tone returning to normal level. "I expect you to come back having snogged half the fit French guy population come September."

At the sound of her statement, the three other girls turned towards the both of you, now joining in.

"You have to," coaxed Alice.

"Exactly," Mary agreed. "I mean, it's France. If you don't take this opportunity to find a hot French guy to brag about, I'll never forgive you." They all nodded with words of agreement.

You rolled your eyes fondly, fighting a flush. "I definitely am not promising any snogging." A collection of boos and other displeased noises followed. "I do promise to write to you guys though."

Mary feigned annoyance, picking at her nails. "That will have to do, I suppose."

Your snorted at her antics and the five of you faded back into your regular chatter as the train eventually reached the station after what felt like much too little time. You said your goodbyes to each of them as you exited the train, more hugs being given out in the past minute than you could even count.

Marlene was the last one you had to say your goodbyes to, to which she took full advantage of. "I'm serious about finding a French guy." She winked at you, elbowing you in the side. "Who knows? Maybe it'll help you get over your you know what."

You thought you felt your eyes go wide at the mention of your feelings for James, but you were sure your heart stopped beating in your chest when you heard a "What are you getting over?" from behind you, accompanied by a firm hand on your shoulder. You'd know that voice and that hand anywhere, yet it belonged to the very last person you wanted it to.

You shot a glare at Marlene, but she was already rolling her luggage away in the opposite direction and waving goodbye. You swore you heard her cackling somewhere in the distance.

"I, uhm," you began, having not forgotten James's presence, something you were sure was impossible. "I'm still getting over a bit of a cold." Marlene was right—you weren't a good liar. How you managed to keep your feelings for James hidden from him for so long remained a mystery.

James stared at you skeptically, slightly leaning in to observe you and your nervous fidgeting. Your first letter to Marlene would be very strongly worded.

He put a hand to your forehead, silent for a moment as he felt your face. You could almost feel his breath softly fanning against your forehead, the intimacy of the moment hitting you like a heat wave.

"You do feel kind of warm." You almost laughed. You think?

"Hey," greeted Peter, the rest of the group nearing the two of you. He looked at you and James curiously, stopping at the hand that was still placed on your forehead. "What're you doing?"

"She says she's still getting over a cold."

"Oh really?" chimed Remus. "I don't remember you being sick at all this week." You squinted his way. Nothing could ever get past him.

Peter crossed his arms. "That sucks. Right before you leave for France too."

At the mention of the vacation, James immediately soured like he had every time you'd mentioned it. This summer would be the first the two of you spent completely apart, and it seemed like the idea hadn't even fully hit him until that morning. He groaned. "Still can't believe you're leaving me alone all summer."

Sirius cleared his throat loudly from behind, having carried your luggage off of the train for you, though he was too caught up to pry a 'thank you' from you. "Excuse me, Prongs?" He gestured to himself. "Aren't you forgetting someone?"

James smugly groaned before burying his face in your neck dramatically. You faltered and almost stumbled back, half out of being flustered and half from the sheer weight of James leaning on you.

Sirius sighed at James's antics. "You'll be fine, lover boy."

He pulled the two of you in for a side hug, your shoulder digging into the side of James's arm, curls brushing against the top of your head. You hoped you could pass off the heat that had risen to your cheeks as a result of the long train ride.

It wasn't long before you'd rung yourself free from Sirius's side hug and gave him a proper goodbye, doing the same to the rest of the guys before they all went their separate ways—all of them but James. You didn't know where Sirius went, seeing as he'd be staying at the Potter house for the summer, but something told you he disappeared at this moment on purpose.

James was left standing before you with his hands in his trouser pockets, peering down at you with a fondness in his eyes that made your blood rush underneath your skin. It was the first time you hadn't headed home from King's Cross with him, a feeling odd and unfamiliar. He pointed a stern finger at you.

"I'll be expecting letters from you." His tone was concerningly serious sounding. "And so will my mum." You laughed, but he kept a straight face. "If I don't hear from you within the week, I'll have to gather the boys for a rescue mission straight out of France."

You stared up at him amusedly. "I promise I'll write." You pressed your lips together, fighting back the sad smile you knew was trying to free itself. "Now go. Don't want to keep Sirius waiting."

James rolled his eyes, though you knew it lacked any real irritation. He observed you for a second, going still, before engulfing you in a monster of a hug. You gasped, more like shrieked, as your toes left the ground. "James!" you yelled, laughter bubbling through your words as his arms engulfed you. "It's only for two months!"

His own laugh, a sound like honey, met your ears gleefully before he placed you back down to stand as gently as could be. He stared at you for another moment, a twinge of a smile seeming to tug at his lips all the while, before he leaned down to your right, laying a quick kiss to your cheek.

His lips merely brushed your face for a split second, but the wave of heat that traveled through you at the touch lasted for much, much longer. It felt like he knocked any sort of goodbye you could've thought of right out of you. If he noticed your reaction he didn't mention it, offering a friendly shove in the arm, a stale reminder of where things currently stood.

"Trust me," he promised. "It'll be the longest two months to date."

Those seemed to be his parting words, before Sirius was yelling for him somewhere in the distance. His warm smile was the last thing you saw before you had to go your own way, too.

It certainly would be a long two months.

[rieamena]

totally (not) beating the allegations

best friend!takuma ino headcanons

contains... best friends to lovers, mutual pining, casual confession of love, kisses (platonic), kisses (romantic), modern au, high school to university au, living together-ish, fem intended reader, pet names (baby, babe, love, sexy, handsome, beautiful, sweetie, the list goes on and on), lots of physical touch, nicknames (you call takuma, kuma.), reader has a mother and a father, y'all are basically dating just without the label...

word count: 2.3k (this wasn't supposed to be long. i told myself 0.8k maximum...)

riea's comments: all sixteen people living in takuma city RISE UP! i miss my husband of 35 years so much, come back to me loml :(( something to munch on while y'all wait for the next full throttle chapter. also not too much on me if this is a drabble and not hcs idk the difference :))

first off... i just wanna say that i KNOW I KNOW that ino is one of the funniest people in the jjk cast idc idc!!! if he had more screentime (and if the situation wasnt dire) my boy would be crackin some jokes!!!!

you've been friends with takuma for around 7 years, your first meeting happening in tenth grade, when your teacher paired you two up for an interview project. when time came to actually record the interviews, it was hard to edit out you two laughing uncontrollably every fifteen seconds or so

i mean, you two just had so much in common!!! same favorite color, same favorite franchise, same favorite tv show, same favorite video game; it was like yall were the same person. there was just one thing you both disagreed on: whether hex code #286061 was blue or green

your argument ended up being the last ten minutes of the final video you submitted...

without a doubt, after that, you two became inseparable. in school, people would take notice of your closeness. when one of you were absent, teachers would jokingly ask "where's the other one?"

there was not a single thing you didn't do together, homework, go to the gym, gossip, eavesdrop, etc etc. so of course, you ended up applying to the same universities and when it came time for college acceptance season...

takuma invited you over, forcing you to bring your mailed letters from the eight universities. sprawling out over his lap, you took in the all too familiar sight of his room. you've been in his room more times than you've been in your own (and vice versa!)

i mean ino's been over to your place so many times that he calls your parents mom and dad. and you've been over to his house so much that takuma's mom practically jumped for joy every time you burst through the front doors with a "guess who's home!!!" so it was completely normal that you guys knew the ins and outs of each other's rooms, right?

"kuma, baby," you started with a sigh, reveling in your best friend's repetitive motions. running his hand through your hair, ino looked down at you, eyes showing that he was listening. "i'm scared, what if we don't–"

"ah-ah-ah! no negativity here!" he cut you off, pushing you off his lap and grabbing the letters you left on his desk. "listen here beautiful," takuma says, bringing a hand to your cheek, his heart swelling when you subconsciously leaned into it, "we're gonna take each other's letters, and open them," he handed you a white envelope, the logo of both of yours dream university on it, "starting with, kyōmei."

taking a well needed deep breath, you nodded. "okay," you and ino began to open the envelopes at the same time, only looking at each other when you saw the status. "accepted or rejected in 3...2...1..."

"ACCEPTED"

"ACCEPTED"

cue the mandatory silence before the screaming. "holy shit. you got in." "you got in." "WE GOT IN!!! WE'RE GOING TO KYŌMEI!!!!" you two practically flew off the bed, jumping up and down in celebration. peppering his face in kisses, you nuzzled your face into takuma's neck. "i'm so proud of us! i mean, kyōmei," you pulled away from his neck, shaking his shoulders harshly, "the kyōmei?!!!"

anyways, soon enough, you both realized that you'd have to move away, resulting in a seven hour search for apartments near the university's campus. and just as takuma was about to give up, you found a listing for units 19A and 19B, right in the heart of the city and just a five minute walk from kyōmei

and with that, it was moving day, well, days is more like it considering that the whole process took like ten days... finding cute furniture is really hard! and moving all of it is even harder!! and don't even get me started on the appliances! although, you and takuma found a way around it

like what do both of you need a microwave for? and there isn't a reason to have two dishwashers, there wasn't even a reason to have one! y'all kept your fridges though... who was gonna be banging on the other's door in the middle of the night for some cold water??

with time, it came for the highly anticipated freshman formal, an welcome event hosted by kyōmei itself, and of course, you had to go. so here you were, staring at your figure in the mirror as your best friend's large hand rubbed your shoulder, the other zipping up your black dress. "all done!" he breathed, taking a step away so that you could see for yourself. "i look so cute~" you giggled, hearing the clack of your heels as you twirled. "you do!" he paused, looking you up and down, "when did you get that dress?"

"your mom gave it to me a couple days ago! where'd you get that tux? i don't think i've seen it before," you walked over and straightened takuma's suit, as he laughed in response, "your mom gave it to me..."

"this was planned."

"this was definitely planned."

"we should send a picture in the family group chat!"

"we should!!! but, hair first!"

notice how i said family group chat, singular, not plural. and that's because there's a gc for both of your families! it's name was a mix between "ino" and your last name, since, in all seriousness, your families were close

so here you were, sitting pretty on takuma's lap as you focused on straightening the front pieces of his hair, because that's what best friends do!

"okayyyy sexyyyy," you squealed, moving out of the way so that takuma could see himself in your vanity mirror, "damnn, i look hot!" he smiled as he checked himself out, his hand firmly on your waist (to make sure that you wouldn't fall, of course!). "i knew i was fine but, did i always look this fine?" he asked, looking up at you with his big dark brown eyes, a playful smirk evident on his face. "yes, takuma. you're the sexiest man ever. just a bit of eyeliner on you and we'll be on our way, okay?"

turning back to your station, you grabbed some brown and black pencils before starting to lightly draw over ino's outer eye corner, "do men as sexy as me really need eyeliner?" a look from you was all he needed to know to shut up and close his eyes

and oh, how he loved being so close to you. not just emotionally but physically as well. like, not every duo can say that they barge into the other's apartment to steal snacks! and speaking of snacks... let me just say, there's a whole cabinet in his kitchen reserved for your favorite foods and! he keeps your favorite ice cream flavor stocked in his freezer

you, on the other hand, have a little space where you hide takuma's favorite anything. chips, gummies, takeout menus, you name it, you have it. because your best friend is oh-so-optimistic, it can be harder for him when he's just not having the best of days. which is why when you go your (not so) separate ways at the end of the day, you pack up a basket for him. ribbons in his favorite color, his top 15 favorite snacks from that one time y'all bought one of everything in a nearby convenience store and ranked them, takeout on the way, horror flicks he's been wanting on dvd because he said "its cooler that way", and a handwritten letter from you, for my kuma, scribbled on the envelope

dropping off the basket at his door and retreating back to your place, you'd press your ear against the wall separating your units, physically feeling your heart break when you heard sniffles. that was all you needed to practically fly over to his, a few boxes of tissues in hand. because that's what best friends do!

and don't even get me started on how many belongings y'all have at the other's place... like that one time takuma walked into your apartment announcing his presence, only to be met with silence. let me set up the scene for you. you are taking a relaxing shower when you hear a knock on the door followed by four more and then three more. "come in!" you called out, unbeknownst to you, ino's voice was closer than you thought

"already in here..., anyways. is my shampoo in there?"

"the one with the purple cap?"

"yeah, thanks babe!"

"wait, can you get me my towel?"

or that time when you causally opened the door to his unit (because it was basically yours too) and greeted him with a simple pat on his head before skipping off to find those jeans you thrifted

slight cohabitation aside, the university life was definitely... something. it was clear and obvious that you two were close, a blind man could see it. but close is a really really really vague word, and it's surely not the word that describes the way the two of you act. in this friendship, terms of endearment drop like rain from clouds. every. other. sentence. contains a "babe" or "baby" or "sweetheart" or "darling" WE GET IT OKAY...

and it seems like if y'all go a single day without touching each other, a bomb will fall from the sky and earth would blow up. his hands are constantly on you, his favorite places (when in public) being your shoulders and arms, and when at home it was without a doubt your waist and thighs. just imagine how difficult it must be for people speak to you both on campus when his arm is slung around you and your hand is holding onto his side. the rumors practically created themselves....

and when i say people were shocked, i mean they were SHOCKED when y'all were like "haha, no, we're not dating!!! we're best friends!" everyone was thinking: yeah best friends who FUCK. best friends who are IN LOVE WITH EACH OTHER. y'all became the campus' it couple without being a couple. how does that happen??!??

however... there were a couple of people who were particularly excited to hear that you both were single. a few girls approached you one day while in the general area, asking if it was true that you and ino weren't dating. "we aren't... why?" one of the girls shifted on her feet, clearly nervous. "well... could you um... give this to him for me?!" she bowed, presenting a pretty pink envelope. you froze, staring at the item before giggling. "i see what this is about! don't worry! i'll make sure this gets to him safely!" long story short, that letter was never delivered

and on ino's side, he had some classmates pestering him about you. asking for your favorite show, candy, date style, everything under the sun. "guys, guys! she doesn't even want a boyfriend right now!" takuma shouted, even though two days prior you were complaining about how spending too much time with him was scaring all the hotties away

but let's get into the real stuff... the realization of love

for takuma, there wasn't a "wow, i'm in love with her" moment. what he does know though is that he started feeling something different for you a few months before college admission season. to him, the world was always bright with you by his side but now... it was so much brighter. it was like looking directly into the sun; it hurt but he couldn't look away, he doesn't want to look away. you're the best thing to ever happen to him, and the mere thought of ruining what you have just for some feeling—no matter how intense—isn't... right to him

and you figured it out after a dream you had one night back in high school. you dreamt of being in takuma's arms, the ones you snuck glances at when he wasn't paying attention to you. in not dream world, all you had to do was ask and he'd gladly envelop you but the vibes in this dream were different. there was tension. and it was thick. his beanie was off and thrown somewhere on the bed, your bed. looking back at him, your breath caught in your throat, "hey pretty," he slurred, drunk off tiredness. ino's called you beautiful more times than you can count; he made sure to do it at least once a week, so why... just why did this time make your stomach heat up and your heart race? you woke up with a flushed face, queasy feeling in your gut, and a deep understanding. it wasn't just platonic love anymore

"hey," you started, eyes trained on the movie in front of you, but your mind was focused on something else, "y'know how everyone thinks we're dating?" ino nodded as you reached over to grab the bowl of popcorn. "i've been thinking... maybe they're onto something..."

takuma's gulp could be heard from miles away, "wh-what are you trying to say?"

"what are we? seriously. because i can't sit here and pretend like i don't wish we were something more."

"something more like...?"

"now's not the time to be oblivious! don't you get it?! i'm—"

"i'm in love with you,"

it was like time stood still as you looked at your best friend. his face was lit by the tv screen a couple feet away, his hair was a mess, and slightly prominent dark circles were under his eyes, but... he's never looked more beautiful to you. "have been. for a long time. we've basically been dating for like four years already. four more and then we'll get married?" he flashed his signature smile

"oh, shut up," he brought your face millimeters away from his, whispering "make me." before kissing you deeply, not on your cheek, or your forehead, or your shoulders, but on your lips this time. and all the times after that too

because that's what best friends lovers do, right?

jjk taglist

@blendingcaramal @gzchaos @theamazingrain @woah-girlz @voloslobotomyservice

@kyozvy @obessionofagrl @bubybubsters @sugurusbaobei @raindropsonrwses

@c-moon20-12 @saltynanobeanie @theamazingrain @synthiiiiis @ghostlyluminarycloud

@poopyyy @supernatrualqueen @bxrbie-jadeee @laitifly @discipleofthem

@cheesecake95 @strawberry-cherrypie @makeshiftproject @magiamad0ka @ncitygreen

@stillnotherapy @oniondrip @cloudy-yyy @definitely-not-leena @kidd3ath

@atigerandabear @russianremy @ohnoitsamistakee18 @ivy-vivii @ourfinalisation

@1ndee @yourhornysister @ancientimes

[unknownmusing]

Baldur's Gate - Halsin x Astarion Fanfic: 'Always there to Travel the Same Path which One Walks' - Part 2 - 'Beginning of the First Path' (Act 1) (Ascended Astarion Route)

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

2 DAYS LATER

Location – Shattered Sanctum, Ruined Temple – Western Heartlands – Early Afternoon

Asdalen’s P.O.V:

“Place him with the bear. Maybe he will make a good meal for it.”

“You heard Lady Minthara…Take him to the cage..”

Harsh, grating multitude of voices reach through unconscious haze, forcing me into a sharp awareness I’ve been captured and brought to somewhere with a screeching noise of cell door being opened indicating I’m about to be imprisoned.

Fluttering my eyes open, blurry vision of something brown, large and furry in the far corner of the cell comes into my line of sight with suddenly the large goblin who been dragging me flings me in with one single throw not even caring when I land on the harsh, uneven surface of the stone floor with a sickening thud – the injuries I had ascertained from somewhere soon making themselves known.

A clattering of my mask landing beside makes me scramble to grab hold of it, praying that Lesia is around somewhere and she is safe from harm – she would start to become extremely agitated if separated from me and could easily harm people around her – quickly slipping it back on.

“Oh, so you’re a Drow with a bit of history are we….” The Hobgoblin sneers out, forcing my eyes to widen heavily lifting my head straight up to see in cracked ornate mirror at the back of the cell my face is being shown in various angles – but enough to make out the details on it. “…Asdalen Wryric, the Snake of Faerun.”

 -----------------

Location – Shattered Sanctum, Ruined Temple – Western Heartlands – Early Afternoon

Astarion’s P.O.V:

“Out the way.”

“But….Lady Minthara, we’s were only playing with him…”

“Enough….Out of my sight and go find Ragzlin, you brats.”

A voice, female speaks pushing the goblin brats who’ve surrounded me out the way, a ashen-grey hand reaching to haul me up by hair off up from the hard, stone cold floor of the ruined Temple  – my mind trying not think of memories of being trapped in the ‘kennel’ where Godey, would watch and wait for ample time to strike –  that try not show a wince on my features.

Vision clearing, it reveals the person holding my head by my hair is a female drow with braided white hair, distinct ashen-grey mixed with gold highlights and a harsh, cold face with her other hand grabbing hold of my chin tightly.

She turns it to side to side to analyse the details of it, until forcing it back to look at her.

“Hmm….How did you get here, elf?” She asks me, making me go to give back a sarcastic retort to her question when a sharp, blinding pain shoots through my head and memories not my own filter through my mind – I realise, suddenly, they are her memories.

She releases my hair, wrenching away like I’ve burned her – maybe in a way I have with whatever that telepathic connection wave had been made. She glares down at me, while another figure appears, a large red Hobgoblin, to stand beside her.

“You called for me, Minthara. What bothers you?” the Hobgoblin states, large red arms crossing over their large, muscular chest – a beady eye flicking over my rugged appearance - with me, wondering if should try to create a diversion to escape.

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

[marcyvamp1re-blog]

pt.4 SILLY LITTLE BAT

pairings ⸺ Yandere! Platonic! Batfamily x Anti-hero! Fem!reader.

synopsis ⸺ In a Gotham steeped in darkness, Bruce Wayne confronts a past resonating with secrets. As he uncovers the identity of an enigmatic antiheroine, he will discover hidden truths that will stain his legacy. Blood, a symbol of betrayals, intertwines with his fate, revealing that darkness dwells within him as well.

warnings ⸺ Dark Themes, Dead, Religion, murdering,Disturbing Content, Unhealthy Obsession, tw.noncon, Discrimination, Street Fights, Gaslight, Violence, Blood, LGBT Content, Child Abuse, Kidnapping, Implicit Sexual Content, Mental Illness, Addiction, Torture, Corruption, Isolation, Trauma, Phobias, Paranoia

Chapter guide! Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3

A/N — English is not my first language—Spanish is— I took a long time because I went on vacation, I wasn’t inspired, I had a lot of things to catch up on, and blah blah blah. The good thing is that I brought part 4, and just so you know, there are about four or five more parts of the story, maybe more.

I'm dirty, infinitely dirty,

this is why I scream so much

about purity.

Bruce sat on the edge of the bed, feeling the weight of the memories and the silence that now inhabited that room. Every corner of that space reminded him of his daughter's presence, a presence that had been fragile and ephemeral, like smoke disappearing between fingers. He looked at the diplomas and trophies on the shelves, those small proofs of her effort and dedication. He caressed them with the same reverence he used when going through old photographs, searching for something, anything, that would tell him he had done enough, that he had been a good father.

But he only saw the same emptiness in her eyes that he had known since childhood. She resembled him more than he would have imagined. In her dull gaze, in her absent smile, he recognized the same pain that had accompanied him after his parents' death. He realized, almost bitterly, that this darkness was an inheritance, a shadow he had left in her without realizing it.

Bruce ran his fingers over an old photo from her first birthday after losing his mother. That day, Alfred had secretly taken her to Metropolis in a desperate attempt to give her some happiness. But even at the amusement park, where laughter and noise were contagious, her face remained a vacant mask. She wasn’t really smiling, as if something inside her knew she would never have the normalcy that other children enjoyed.

With a heavy sigh, Bruce rested his head on the pillow that had been hers, wanting to cling to the scent of his daughter. But there was no trace of her aroma left. Alfred, in an act of rigor that Bruce couldn’t understand, had eliminated any trace of her, perhaps trying to close a wound that Bruce was unwilling to let heal. He had reproached Alfred for hours and hours for erasing that last vestige of his daughter. But Alfred’s look, serious and filled with silence, told him what he already knew: maybe he didn’t deserve to keep those memories because he had failed to protect the person he loved most.

He closed his eyes, sinking into the pain of each thought that emerged from that dark room. Everything reminded him that, somehow, he was responsible for his daughter's disappearance, as if his own shadows had consumed her. In his mind, images of what he could have done differently began to surface, a parade of possibilities where he was a better father, more attentive and less blind to her suffering.

Suddenly, Titus and Alfred the Cat entered together through the door, coming in silently, as if they understood the weight of that moment. Titus approached Bruce, resting his massive head on his knee, while Alfred the Cat jumped onto Bruce's lap, purring softly. Bruce petted the dog and the cat, finding in them the only comfort that seemed left to him. His voice trembled when, in an almost delirious tone, he confessed to them:

"Maybe I’m the real killer here. What kind of father lets his daughter get lost in the dark? What kind of monster was I that I never saw her pain? If she’s dead… if my little girl has left this world… then I am the only one responsible."

He paused, breathing heavily, as the words he wanted to suppress escaped his lips in a bitter and disturbing whisper. "Sometimes I wish I had… had stopped her mother. If she hadn’t been… if I had raised her from the beginning… I could have saved her from so much pain."

The words, though spoken in a barely audible murmur, weighed heavily in the room. He caressed the pillow, almost pleading for the past to change, for every mistake to be undone. The cat purred softly, as if understanding the pain Bruce was trying to stifle deep in his chest. Titus looked at him with eyes full of loyalty, without judging him, but not offering the redemption he desperately sought.

"I would give anything for a second chance," he whispered, his voice broken. "I would give my life to undo every moment that made her drift away. I would give anything to see her smile again, even if it were just once… even if it were just to tell her how sorry I am."

The house was silent, and in that instant, Bruce understood that there were no words, no time, no strength that could change the past. He was trapped in an abyss of guilt, with only shadows and memories now haunting him, reflecting his own empty and broken face.

Finally, he could no longer contain himself. Feeling the emptiness in his chest, tears began to fall onto the pillow, soaking it with his pain, as if the weight of his own guilt slid out in every sob he tried to stifle. His face was buried in the memory of his daughter, lost in the pain that tormented him with an intensity he could no longer bear.

It was then that Damian entered, dressed as Robin, with his katana stained with a dark red liquid that could be nothing other than blood, with a sharp and direct arrogance, breaking the silent mourning of Bruce. Coldly, he looked at his father and pronounced, almost with disdain, "No matter how much you cry like a whore, Y/N won’t come back."

Bruce looked up, surprised and hurt, but before he could respond, Damian continued with the same hardness. "While everyone was out in a gang like a bunch of lowlifes and came back empty-handed, I found something you didn’t even bother to look for while lying here like a cheap whore." Damian looked at him with a mix of disappointment and reproach, as if he couldn’t understand how his father had let so many signs slip by.

"Did you know? I had a relationship with Ivy, that old woman who had the indecency to date my little sister while being an old hag. Plus, she worked as a waitress in some bar wearing little clothes to survive. Like some common bitch. And the last time, she was seen in the subway, with a strange man with psychiatric crazy vibes... surely another one that slipped away while you were lying here." Damian’s words were blows to Bruce, each revelation a testament to how much he had let slip away.

Damian continued, each phrase laden with resentment and questions. "Why did she have to work? Why did she, the daughter of the renowned multimillionaire Bruce Wayne, the masked hero of Gotham, have to depend on a miserable paycheck that didn’t even cover the end of the month? And the subway, father, did she really have to take the subway like any unknown person in this city?"

Bruce looked down, unable to respond. Each of those questions was a dagger reminding him how far he had been from understanding his own daughter. He had ignored, or perhaps never wanted to see, the sacrifices she made to survive, the paths she took in search of something he had never given her. Now, with Damian's words filling the silence, Bruce realized he had condemned his daughter to the same fate he was trying to combat on the streets.

Damian watched him, his gaze cold and critical, as the room filled with a tense silence. For the first time, Bruce understood that perhaps he was never the hero he thought he was, and that in his attempt to protect everyone, he had failed to protect the one who needed him the most.

Bruce felt anger bubbling inside him, intensifying with each word that left Damian's lips. "How dare you come in here and say that? You weren’t a brother to her, you weren’t there when she needed you the most," he shot back, his voice echoing in the room like dark thunder. The image of his daughter intertwined with his rage, each contained tear now fueling his fury.

Damian frowned, unrestrained. "That's how I show my affection; you should be used to it," he retorted disdainfully, recalling that moment when he arrived at the mansion, he had stabbed Y/N with his katana. "I did what I had to do, and I don’t have to accept your reproaches. Everyone failed Y/N, even you."

"Don’t try to blame others for your own failures!" Bruce shouted, frustration filling every corner of his being. "You weren’t there, Damian. You can’t always hide behind your arrogance."

Damian crossed his arms, his defiant attitude unbreakable. "And what if I wasn't? At least I didn’t hide behind a mask of sadness. Better stop reproaching me and listen to what I have for you." He stepped closer, pulling out a half-open old cardboard box. "I brought you a gift."

Bruce looked at him suspiciously. "What is it now?"

"I went looking for Selina, but she slipped away like a scared kitten," Damian said, mocking the situation. "A waste of time, but I found Ivy in Arkham. She said little about Y/N, which annoyed me, so… well, here you go." He opened the box slowly, revealing Poison Ivy's head, the fresh blood still dripping from the edges.

Her face, once beautiful, was now serene, with pale skin and a touch of green that evoked her connection to nature. Her normally vibrant red hair now fell messily around her face, while her eyes, closed forever, seemed almost at peace, as if she had found a breath in the chaos she once inhabited.

Bruce felt as if the world had stopped. There was no horror in his gaze, only an emptiness where anger and sadness collided. "What have you done?" he murmured, his voice barely a whisper, but resignation permeated every word. The life of his daughter, the decisions he had made and what that meant now overwhelmed him.

Damian shrugged. "She was a monster, just like all of us. What matters is that now you have something tangible, something you can show."

"What kind of family are we?" Bruce let slip, feeling defeated. "This family is a failure."

"Oh, so it turns out we’ve been a family all this time?" Damian replied, scornful, but his tone was less certain.

Bruce closed his eyes, feeling the discomfort of the situation. "Take me to the apartment where she lived," he said, his voice enigmatic and cold. It was a request that resonated with the gravity of what he had lost, an echo of what he had failed to protect. As Damian looked at him with surprise and a hint of concern, Bruce knew that the truth he would face in that place was beyond any form of redemption. The darkness that had invaded his life was about to be confronted, and he wasn’t sure if he was ready for what he would find.

As Bruce and Damian prepared to leave, Titus and Alfred the Cat watched them from a distance. The dog remained alert, his ears perked, as if he could sense the tension looming in the air. His instinct told him that something grave was about to happen. Alfred, with his wise and sharp gaze, seemed to share the same unease, his eyes fixed on the men who were heading toward the dark fate they had chosen.

As Bruce and Damian headed for the door, Titus stepped forward, his expression a mix of concern and determination. It was as if he were trying to convey a silent message, a call to reason that his owners could not hear amid their emotional turmoil. Alfred the Cat, with his elegant stride, approached Bruce and rubbed his head against his leg, seeking comfort for the hero who seemed on the brink of losing himself even further in the darkness.

Turning around, Bruce felt a pang in his heart. He looked at his animals, those innocent beings who had always been there to offer him companionship, and realized that they were aware of what was about to come. In a world where violence and betrayal lurked around every corner, their departure was the beginning of something much darker.

With one last look, Bruce found himself in Titus's eyes, reflecting a mix of loyalty and worry. It was as if the dog knew that the decision they were making would not only affect them but would also drag others into a chaos from which they could not escape.

Damian, impatient, had already crossed the threshold, but Bruce paused for one more moment. "I’m sorry," he murmured, although he was not sure to whom he was really addressing: whether to the animals who looked at him with eyes full of wisdom or to himself for the path he had chosen.

However, it was already too late to turn back. With one last glance at the room where it all began, and at the animals who looked at him with concern, Bruce stepped into the dark world that awaited them, unaware that soon, everything would get worse. The air was charged with ominous anticipation, and the feeling that tragedy loomed over them like a shadow, deep and inevitable.

You lay on the bed, your body still heavy from the forced encounter, thoughts fluttering in your mind like butterflies trapped in a net. The room was enveloped in an unsettling gloom, the air thick with a tension that could not be ignored. Beside you, he breathed with a calm that contrasted with the whirlwind inside you. There was no name, no face to remember; it was just him, the one who had kidnapped you and made you his own, a figure who had taken your life and distorted it at will.

As you stared at the ceiling, the silence became a mirror of your thoughts. Rage and hatred toward your family surged within you, feelings that had once seemed so distant. They didn’t understand you, they hadn’t been there to protect you, and now, in this strange intimacy, you found yourself wishing to be with him more than with them. Confusion engulfed you; on one hand, there was a part of you longing for affection and acceptance, while on the other, there was a strange pleasure in the situation, a desire to escape the life that had caused you so much suffering.

Despite everything, you missed your mother. Her laughter, her hugs, the way she always knew how to calm your fears. But that maternal figure was slowly fading from your memory, drowned by the anguish of betrayal and loneliness. You found yourself trapped between the desire to remember the good and the hatred toward the past that had brought you here.

As the room remained silent, a dark and almost self-destructive impulse took hold of you. With trembling movements, you picked up a sharp object and pressed it against your skin, feeling a sting that was both physical and emotional. In that moment, you thought about the irony of your situation: you had lost control of your life, and in seeking an escape, you chose to hurt yourself.

The duality of your feelings was heartbreaking. On one hand, you yearned for freedom, to reclaim your identity and the love that had been taken from you. On the other, there was a part of you that felt alive in this new relationship, a twisted connection that kept you captive. The internal struggle manifested in every thought and every action, revealing the complexity of your situation.

You remembered moments from his life, the wounds he carried, and the pain he had faced. Had Bruce ever been so lost, so filled with sadness that he had to do the unthinkable to feel something? The idea that the man you admired could also have been vulnerable struck you like a revelation. You wondered if he had ever cried in solitude, questioning his place in the world, if he had ever felt so trapped in his own life.

As you touched your stomach, an old pain resurfaced. There, beneath the skin, was a scar, a reminder of the time Damian had hurt you with his katana, an act that had been both an attack and a cry of desperation. The brush of your fingers over the wound, although healed, still brought memories of suffering and betrayal, a deep connection intertwined with the pain you felt now. The scar was a metaphor for your life: a wound that would never fully heal, a reminder that pain is part of your existence.

Tears fell more forcefully as you thought about how your family’s decisions, rivalries, and chaos had influenced your life. Bruce, with his constant struggle against the shadows of his past, was a reflection of what you could have been: strong, determined, but also broken and lost. In that moment, you felt just like him, entangled in a cycle of suffering and confusion.

You allowed yourself to cry, feeling that perhaps in that vulnerability there was some freedom. It was a relief, an act of resistance in the midst of the oppression that surrounded you. As the outside world faded away, the pain of the scar became a reminder that, despite everything, there was still a part of you yearning to break free, wanting to escape this darkness. And amid that sadness, one thought grew stronger: perhaps, just perhaps, there was a way to find your path again.

The man let go of your cheek and, with a casual gesture, lit a cigarette, the smoke dancing in the air like shadows in the dim light of the room. His eyes, fixed on you, had a dangerous intensity. "Do you see this?" he said, exhaling the smoke slowly. "Now you are stained, like Gotham. You’ve been in the mud, and it’s your duty to clean yourself up. This is just the beginning."

He looked at you with a twisted smile, an expression that mixed amusement and dominance. "You have to understand that you can’t escape from what you are. The city is a reflection of yourself. And like Gotham, you too need to be purified." With a sudden movement, he offered you the cigarette. "Smoke. It will help you forget the tears."

You hesitated, but his eyes challenged you, a clear message that there was no room for denial. With a mix of fear and despair, you brought the cigarette to your lips, feeling its bitterness touch your tongue. "Don’t make me repeat myself," he said, his voice a cold whisper. "I want you to feel the poison, just like the city does. You are part of it now, and you must accept your role."

The pressure of his words overwhelmed you, each syllable a reminder of your distorted reality. "But why me?" you stammered, feeling desperation twisting inside you. "Why do I have to be part of this?"

"Because there is no choice," he replied with disdain. "There never was. Every day, every decision you made has led you here. Weakness is not an option. Look around you; Gotham has no place for the weak. If you want to survive, you need to get your hands dirty. And believe me, there is a lot of blood to clean up."

Your heart raced as you inhaled the smoke, the burning filling your lungs and leaving a feeling of emptiness. "What do you want from me?" you asked, feeling the power he had over you strangling you.

"I just want you to accept your new place. I want you to understand that in this world, death and destruction are inevitable. There is no redemption for the stained, but you can try to fix it… in your own way."

He trapped you in a dark cycle of thoughts, where each of his words echoed in your mind like a terrifying echo. You knew he was playing with you, manipulating your emotions. "If you don’t clean yourself, you will suffer the consequences. And if you cry for her again, I promise you will pay for it," he said, tightening his grip on your arm.

As the smoke dissipated into the air, the feeling of being trapped became more palpable. You found yourself between acceptance and internal struggle, but deep down, you knew you had to find a way out. However, the darkness around you grew more intense, and each of his words was another chain binding you to this fate you had not chosen.

The air thickened as he exhaled smoke, the room filling with a gray fog that seemed to reflect the chaos in your mind. He looked at you with an intensity that overflowed with obsession, a strange mix of affection and dominance that enveloped you. Despite the tears running down your face, you felt no sadness or fear. You had passed the stage of terror; now you felt strangely alive, almost liberated in your pain.

"My dear," he said in a soft yet authoritative voice, "you must not see this as a punishment. It is a purification. Gotham needs someone who understands its pain, and you are the chosen one." He leaned closer to you, his hot breath on your skin. "You are like a spark in this darkness, and together we can illuminate it. You just have to let the poison flow through you. With each tear, you are cleansing the city."

As he held you, the contact between the two of you was electric, and a part of you began to understand his madness, the way he had woven his dreams of greatness and purification through your own desires for belonging. "Did you know my mother was in Arkham?" he continued, as if sharing a special secret. "She was stained too. In her mind, she fought demons that no one else could see, just like you now. And look where she ended up: trapped in her own memories, in her own shadows."

The revelation hit you. A fragment of pain resurfaced, intertwining with the new knowledge. "What… what happened to her?" you asked, your voice trembling. It wasn’t sadness you felt; it was curiosity to know that story that had remained hidden.

"She got lost in the darkness of Gotham, just like everyone else," he said with contempt. "But that doesn’t have to be your destiny. You are stronger. My mother let herself be consumed by her madness, but you… you can take control. Let me guide you."

You fell silent, contemplating his words. The tears continued to fall, but now they were just a part of you, a manifestation of the internal struggle. You knew you were trapped in a dangerous game, but there was something in his promise of power and control that began to seduce you.

"So cry if you need to," he said, caressing your cheek with a touch that was both gentle and threatening. "But don’t let those tears weaken you. Every time you feel the urge to cry for her, remember what you are. Remember that the city needs someone like you to cleanse it of the filth."

"How can I do that?" you asked, feeling the echo of his words resonate in your mind. "How can I clean something so deeply rooted in darkness?"

"With determination," he answered firmly, his eyes shining with a mix of fervor and madness. "You must learn to see the beauty in chaos. There is power in pain. With every action you take, with every decision you make, you will be purifying Gotham of its own decay. And I will be by your side, guiding you. Together, we will be unstoppable."

As you absorbed his words, a strange sense of purpose began to take shape within you. Although his love was perverse, there was something in his vision that resonated with you, as if you were destined to fulfill that role. As the smoke from the cigarette faded into the air, so too did your fears, leaving only a cold and clear determination: you were going to take control of your destiny, even if it meant losing yourself in the process.

"No! I don’t want you to go!" shouted little Y/n, clinging to her mother's handbag with the desperation of someone who knows something important is about to slip away.

Her mother, a blonde woman with a tired gaze, let out a sigh of impatience. Y/n couldn't quite remember her face, but she knew it hardened at the tug on her bag, and without thinking, she pushed the girl, causing her to fall to the ground with a dull thud. Y/n looked up from below, her big eyes reflecting a mix of fear and pain.

"Stop being silly, Y/n," her mother murmured, struggling to hide the tremor in her voice. She leaned down, trying to smile, but the coldness in her eyes betrayed her. "You know I have to do this... for both of us. Everything I do is for you, even if you don’t understand it now."

The girl nodded slowly, but inside, she felt the truth—that repeated phrase was just a curtain. She knew there was something broken in her mother, something she was too young to fully comprehend but sensed in every harsh gesture, in every bitter word that hung in the air. Something that made her feel alone, even when they were together.

Her mother straightened up, adjusting the bag as if it weighed tons. She raised a hand in a mechanical farewell, and without another word, she left through the door without looking back.

Days passed in a haze of silence and dry tears. Y/n had no idea how much time had passed since her mother left, leaving the echo of her footsteps as the only reminder of her presence. Hugging herself, she spent the nights waiting for some familiar sound that never came.

When she finally opened her eyes, she realized her surroundings had completely changed. She was no longer at home; she was sitting in a cold, unfamiliar room, with gray walls and flickering lights dimly overhead. In the distance, she could hear whispering voices.

"How is it possible that someone left such a small child alone?" It was the firm, serious voice of a man. As her eyes adjusted to the light, she distinguished a police badge on the man's uniform. It read Commissioner Gordon.

Next to him, a red-haired woman spoke in a low voice. "Dad, you can't be sure. Maybe it was just a lie. You know how her mother was: a history of psychiatric hospitals and drugs at home. How do we know she didn't make up the story about Wayne?"

"Barbara, we have evidence that doesn't lie," Gordon replied coldly, his tone tinged with disdain. "We know the paternity test is real."

The girl felt the world sway around her. She listened to every word and felt each comment like a dagger sinking deeper into her chest. Those adults, figures of authority and trust, spoke of her mother as if she were little more than a mistake, something despicable that had left scars on her life. Sitting there, hidden behind a wall and hugging her knees, tears returned to her eyes, a mix of sadness and a terrifying understanding of what it meant to be alone in the world.

"Do you really think someone like that should have had a child in her care?" Barbara said from her wheelchair, her tone full of contempt. "She was probably just looking for easy money, manipulating everyone she could."

Commissioner Gordon frowned, clearly uncomfortable. "Barbara, that's not fair! Even if she didn’t lead the best life, she was still a citizen like anyone else, and she had the right to rebuild her life. No one is perfect."

From her corner, Y/n tried to cover her ears, but Barbara's words were impossible to ignore.

"I can't believe it, Dad. How could anyone in their right mind have left a child in the hands of that woman?" Barbara said with a cold, almost poisoned voice. "Someone who clearly had drug addiction problems and who was in and out of psychiatric hospitals. I bet she didn’t even know who the real father was."

Each word made Y/n's chest tighten even more. Her mind screamed silently: Stop! Please stop saying that about her! Her small hands trembled as she remembered the moments she had spent with her mother. Her mother, who although had those dark days and her brusque manner, had fed her, tucked her in, and cared for her as best as she could. Despite her mistakes, she had been her mother, and that was all Y/n could understand.

But Barbara’s words kept filling the room, like a storm of resentment. "I don't know how Bruce can even be involved in something like this. That woman was a burden to everyone. I can't imagine anyone worse as a mother."

Y/n squeezed her eyes shut, wanting to block it out. It's not true. She’s not bad. She took care of me. We didn’t have much, but she always tried to be there for me. But no matter how hard her thoughts tried to silence the pain, Barbara's words left deep scars, increasingly difficult to heal.

As Y/n remained there, her tears already dry, her thoughts twisted in her mind like threatening shadows. She heard the echoes of Barbara's cruel words and Gordon's, and a silent resentment grew in her chest, almost like a slow poison. She tried to remember the good moments with her mother, but the dark thoughts seemed to drown them out. She was good, she was good... No, you can't say that about her... But those same thoughts tangled with hate and confusion, and the pain grew stronger.

Suddenly, everything turned white. The walls, the voices, the cold metal chair beneath her legs... everything disappeared into a blinding void that enveloped every corner of her mind. And then, there was only her, standing in that white abyss, with a strange weight on her shoulders and in her hands.

She looked down and saw a white armor, shining as if made of shards of moon and shadow. It covered her body completely, with firm, polished plates that fit like a second skin, protecting every part of her. The gauntlets were solid, with sharp and detailed edges, and in her hands, she wielded two katanas whose blades reflected that void like deadly mirrors.

The design of the armor was imposing and terrifying. The helmet resembled a bat, with long pointed ears extending upward, and a dark V-shaped visor that barely revealed her eyes. The lines that ran across her chest and arms formed the silhouette of folded wings, as if that bat awaited to unfold at any moment. The chest was engraved with fine black details, resembling veins radiating dark power. In the center, a small emblem in the shape of a black teardrop contrasted with the radiant white of the armor, like a mark of pain and sacrifice.

In the dim light of the void where she stood, Y/n felt the weight of the katanas in her hands as if they were extensions of her own being. In that moment, the white armor fit her like a comforting embrace, a reminder of the power she now possessed. She looked at herself in a non-existent reflection, feeling that every part of her being was ready to act, to reclaim what she had lost.

With a tremor of emotion and a palpable obsession, she held them to her chest, hugging them tightly. Words flowed from her lips, laden with a burning, almost manic desire: "Soon you will be mine... I will go home. I will be my little girl again."

The echo of her voice resonated in the white void, vibrating with the intensity of her longing. In her mind, an image formed of a home, a place where shadows no longer lurked and where her mother, though imperfect, would be able to embrace her once more. The idea of being together again, of transforming her pain into power, filled her with a fierce determination.

"I will come back for you," she whispered, her voice choked with a mix of tears and a crazed smile. "Nothing will stop me. I promise." The choked laughter turned into a murmur of echoes, resonating in the abyss like a sinister promise, as the world around her began to fade again, leaving her alone with her obsession and her new identity.

In the silence, whispers began to rise, soft at first, but increasingly insistent. One word repeated, muted yet burning, like a spark in the shadows.

K

e

r

o

s

e

n

e

The word reverberated in the void, growing more intense, like a kind of dark mantra. And when Y/n could barely bear the weight of those voices, one final phrase emerged, chilling and final:

"Death is the ultimate prize."

You walked through the halls of the old apartment block, your white armor shining in the dim light, like a bat defying the embrace of the night. The echoes of your heels resonated, a dark song reverberating in the solitude of the worn walls.

Your figure, sculpted in gleaming metal, was a silhouette of elegance and mystery, as you hummed a forgotten melody, slipping between the shadows like a whisper of the forbidden. Each step was a heartbeat in the silence, a chilling reminder that there is still life in abandonment.

The portraits on the walls watched you, empty eyes that seemed to come alive, as you moved with the grace of a specter, a macabre dance of light and shadow at dusk.

The doors, worn and creaking, whispered secrets of past stories, and you, guardian of those forgotten tales, advanced fearlessly, seeking what was left behind.

You were an enigma, a reflection of the lost, a shadow walking, dressed in white, in a world clinging to its demons, where the past and present intertwine in a lethal embrace, and the night waits, eager for your return.

You paused before the door of one of the apartments, its frayed wood opening like an abyss, a dark invitation that defied logic. The silence became thick, almost palpable, and the echo of your humming faded, leaving a void that swallowed the darkness.

The threshold awaited you, a portal to the unknown, and a cold breeze, laden with whispers, caressed your skin like a lost lover. Inside, the shadows seemed to come alive, a palace of echoes and laments, where time had woven a web.

Your heart raced, a mix of adrenaline and challenge, as you gently pushed the door. It creaked in protest, like an old ghost, and when it opened, revealed an abandoned world, furniture covered in dust, with withered memories.

The remnants of a past life crowded every corner, and a scent of decay floated in the air, but something more, a glimpse of presence, urged you to enter, to explore the hidden. You peered in, and the dimness embraced you, as if the apartment claimed you as its own.

Each step on the creaky floor was an act of daring, and the walls seemed to murmur forgotten secrets, stories of betrayed loves and lost souls. In the center of the room, a dark, diffuse, and shadowy figure formed among the shadows, like an echo of your own existence, a reflection of what could have been.

You stood still, breath held in the abyss of the moment, the half-open door, a threshold to your destiny, and the silence, now laden with promises, stripped you of fears, leaving only the certainty that in that space, you faced the echoes of your own darkness.

As you advanced, your eyes fixed on a dusty, worn wooden box resting on the small dining table. Something about it drew you in, as if it held a dark secret. You approached and, with trembling hands, opened it. Inside, horror was revealed: the head of Poison Ivy, the green hair still vibrant, a gaze frozen in time. You didn’t cry, but a slight tremor coursed through your body, a mixture of surprise and disdain for the brutality that had taken place in that space.

"Normally you enter through the window," you murmur to the air, with an ironic smile on your lips, as if addressing a presence you hoped would appear.

And then, as if the night itself had responded to your call, Batman emerged from the shadows, his dark figure silhouetted against the dim light coming through the window. The air became tense in an instant.

"Who are you?" he asked, his grave voice resonating with a mix of distrust and anger. "What are you doing in the apartment of Bruce Wayne's daughter?"

You laughed, a laugh that echoed in the empty room, filled with irony and knowledge.

"His daughter?" you mocked, your eyes shining with a mix of challenge and amusement. "So Y/n is your daughter. Isn’t it curious how things intertwine in this city?"

The silence grew heavy, and you felt his gaze intensify, evaluating every word you had spoken. He knew you had crossed a line, but the revelation had ignited a spark of playfulness in you.

"How do you know who I am?" The question slipped from his lips, but there was no fear, just an unsettling curiosity.

"Gotham has its secrets, Bruce. And I, like you, am part of this darkness. The identity of a hero or heroine is just a game of shadows, and in this game, you and I know how to move between the lines."

You stood firm, the tension between you palpable, as the echo of laughter still resonated in the air. Batman's figure, always imposing and enigmatic, seemed to waver at the revelation that in this dark labyrinth, he was not the only player.

The tension intensified, and Batman took a step forward, approaching you with an intense gaze.

"How do you know about my daughter?" he inquired, his voice brusque, each word laden with frustration. You remained firm, crossing your arms, letting the silence settle between you.

"Oh, Gotham speaks, even in whispers. The city has a way of revealing what heroes prefer to hide," you replied disdainfully. "Your life, your secrets, are more exposed than you think." He frowned, anger crackling in his eyes.

"What do you know about Y/N?" he demanded, his voice low and threatening, as if waiting for you to throw down a challenge.

"I know you didn't want her. That you left her in the shadows while you dedicated yourself to your personal crusade," you replied, irony dancing in your tone. "That girl grew up without a father, and you, the great hero of Gotham, preferred to be a myth."

Rage etched itself on his face, but there was something more, a hidden pain surfacing behind the armor of his anger.

"It's not that simple, and you have no idea what I've done for her," he retorted, his voice tense, each word like a blow.

"Really?" you asked, flashing a mocking smile. "What have you done? Cut off her partner's head, the only person I love, just to extract invalid information? What a great father."

An uncomfortable silence settled between you, as the air vibrated with unspoken emotions.

"You are not one to judge me," he declared, his voice tense. "You know nothing of what I've sacrificed."

"Maybe not, but I know enough about the void you've left," you replied, undeterred. "And I know Ivy was there for her. You, the hero, vanished while others took on the role of father."

The anger shone in his eyes, but there was also a spark of recognition. He observed you, assessing the courage that led you to challenge him.

"And who are you to come and point fingers? A lost anti-heroine in her own struggle?" he shot back, his voice laden with contempt.

"I am what Gotham needs," you replied, confident. "A reminder that even heroes like you can fail."

The discussion turned into a power struggle, both of you clinging to your truths, while Poison Ivy's head remained a sinister reminder of the choices you both had made.

Suddenly, Batman's fury exploded like lightning in the darkness. Without warning, he seized you by the neck, lifting you with surprising strength. The air became scarce, and the pressure on your throat made you feel vulnerable, although the mockery never left your expression.

"Where is Y/N?" he demanded, his voice charged with rage and desperation. The shadows moved around him, intensifying his figure, which seemed more monster than hero at that moment.

Despite the iron grip, you kept your gaze fixed on him, challenging him, feeling the adrenaline pulse through your veins.

"Are you that worried about her whereabouts?" you replied, a mocking smile barely hiding your disdain. "Maybe she's hanging from a hook in a slaughterhouse, who knows? That would be an ironic twist for a girl who grew up in the shadow of a hero, don’t you think?"

His eyes narrowed, anger and helplessness battling within him. You leaned in closer, feeling the pressure on your neck, but that only fueled your defiance.

"Don't laugh about this!" he roared, tightening his grip slightly. The fury in his voice was palpable, but something deeper kept him on edge.

"Me? Laughing? You, the great Batman, scared for your daughter's life?" you shot back, never breaking eye contact.

The tension was becoming unbearable, but there was something fascinating about the game you were playing. He was caught between rage and fear, and you, in your shadowy game, fed off his anguish.

"Do you know something? You're losing yourself in your own legend," you continued, while he held you in the air. "I'm sure you once dreamed that she would have died in that alley with her mother."

In that instant, something in his expression changed. The anger slowly faded, giving way to a deep concern, though he still held you firmly.

"I warn you," he whispered, his eyes locked onto yours. "If you lie to me, I won't show mercy."

You laughed again, though the risk was imminent, as your heart raced.

"And what will you do?" you challenged, your voice trembling but resolute. "Threaten me with your dark past? I'm here because I know the truth, and I do not fear your shadows."

Bruce's patience evaporated like smoke in the heavy air of that apartment. With a sudden movement, he hurled you towards the table, the impact resonating with a crash that reverberated through the walls. Your katanas slipped to the floor, leaving you defenseless. The furniture creaked under your weight, but adrenaline kept you alert, your instincts sharp.

You quickly rose, shaking your head to clear the confusion, while the anger on his face transformed into determination.

"I don't have time for your games, Kerosene," he shouted, stepping forward, ready to fight. "If you know Y/N, tell me!"

You steadied yourself, smiling defiantly as you positioned yourself, preparing for combat.

"Do you really think you'll throw away the only one who can help you?" you replied, feeling the pulse of challenge coursing through your veins. "I'm offering you a chance to know the truth, and you choose to fight. Very typical of you."

With a swift movement, he lunged at you, throwing a direct punch. You dodged, making an agile turn, but the atmosphere became a whirlwind of force and speed.

You charged at him, hitting him in the side, feeling how his tense muscles responded to your attack. It was not just a physical fight; it was a clash of wills, an explosion of repressed emotions.

"You’re an idiot if you think you can scare me!" you yelled at him while he tried to immobilize you. You twisted and managed to sidestep him, landing a blow to his jaw that made him stagger.

Bruce quickly regained his footing, his eyes blazing with fury. He advanced again, his movements precise and calculated, while you played with speed and agility.

"Stop!" he roared, his voice echoing in the enclosed space. "I just want to know where my daughter is."

"And I just want you to stop living in your hero fantasy," you replied, with a defiant laugh as you dodged another attack. "The truth hurts you, Bruce, and you prefer the fight over facing it."

The exchange of blows continued, the sound of fists colliding and the creaking of breaking furniture filling the air. The room became a battlefield, with the table as the central stage of your struggle.

Bruce, with a mix of skill and strength, cornered you against the wall, but instead of giving up, you seized the closeness. With an agile movement, you pushed him back, making him lose his balance.

"Are you going to keep this up? Destroying what’s left of this city?" you said, breathing heavily but not yielding. "Or are you going to listen to what’s really at stake?"

His eyes were now inches from yours, the fury and frustration of his search fueling the spark of the battle. Both of you were willing to fight, but deep down, you knew there was something deeper at play than just physical strength.

The battle continued, becoming increasingly intense and violent, like a whirlwind of unleashed fury. You launched at him, landing a blow that hit his chest, but Bruce responded with a punch that made you stagger; the force behind his blow was terrifying. The rage emanating from him was palpable, and with each attack, both of you took the struggle to a new level.

The apartment walls vibrated with the thud of bodies colliding and furniture being dragged. The sound of shattering glass echoed in the air as you crashed into a table, breaking it into pieces.

You got back up, a piece of wood in hand, and threw it at him. Bruce dodged it, but the fragment smashed against a lamp, exploding into a million shards. The light flickered before going out, plunging the place into an unsettling darkness.

Both of you moved like shadows through the chaos, and sweat and blood began to mix, the air filled with a metallic smell that only intensified the battle. Bruce landed a punch on your jaw, and you tasted blood in your mouth. You didn’t stop; with a cry of defiance, you responded with a series of rapid blows, each one stronger than the last.

You darted to his side, using your agility to hit him in the ribs. The impact made him stagger, but before you could capitalize on the opportunity, Bruce spun around and kneed you in the abdomen. The air escaped your lungs, and the sharp pain made you fall to your knees. However, you didn’t give up.

With renewed determination, you got up and threw a direct punch to his face, hearing the crack of his skin upon impact. Blood spurted from his lip, and the fact that you had hurt him only fueled his fury. With superhuman strength, he pushed you back, slamming you against a shelf, which gave way and collapsed on you. Books and personal items scattered across the floor, covering the place in even greater chaos.

But there was no time to stop. You rose amongst the debris, feeling the adrenaline pumping through your veins. With a leap, you charged at him again, landing a blow that left a mark on his face. Rage and pain intertwined in the air, and both of you were on the brink of madness.

The room had turned into a battlefield, with blood staining the floor and walls. The apartment’s decor, once a refuge, lay in tatters, as if Gotham itself had decided to yield to the brutality of your confrontation.

Bruce, with his determined gaze locked on you, lunged at you again. Both of you were exhausted, but the fight was a necessity, an uncontrollable impulse that kept you standing. His fists and your movements were a wild dance, and amidst the chaos, both of you knew that the outcome of this battle would not only define the present but also seal your fate.

You charged at him, landing a direct blow to his stomach, and when he bent forward, you took the chance to hit him in the face once more. Blood spilled from his nose, but he countered with a knee strike, and the impact resonated in your bones.

The fight continued with increasing ferocity, the room transforming into a wreckage. Every blow exchanged resonated like thunder, but it was the moment when Bruce landed a punch to your side that made you fall to your knees again, gasping for air. The pain was intense, but there was no time to lament; rage and frustration drove him to push onward.

Seeing the opportunity, Bruce lunged at you, and with a rough movement, he lifted you off the ground, holding you by the neck and raising you into the air. You struggled, feeling the pressure increase, the air escaping your lungs. The room blurred around you as you began to lose control.

"Tell me where Y/N is!" he shouted, his voice echoing in your mind like a refrain of desperation and fury.

You were on the brink of passing out, your eyes clouding, but amidst the confusion, you managed to maintain lucidity, though it was becoming increasingly difficult. Bruce's hands were like a yoke around your throat, and the feeling of suffocation intensified with every passing second.

The pressure was unbearable, and you fought to free your neck, to breathe, but it felt like trying to break chains of steel. Your hands struck his arm, but he wouldn’t relent, becoming more focused, more desperate.

Finally, with a titanic effort, you managed to reach your helmet, and in a twist, you pushed him back, but the pressure of his grip was too much. It was then that, in a last-ditch attempt to free yourself, the helmet slipped off your head, falling to the floor with a dull thud.

The light of the apartment filtered back into your vision, and it was at that moment that Bruce, seeing your face, stopped dead in his tracks, the expression of his fury transforming into horror.

The face before him was not just an adversary; it was a reflection of his own daughter. The reality crashed against him like lightning.

"...Y/N?"

A/N ──── I WANT TO EMPHASIZE THAT YES, WHAT HAPPENED BETWEEN THE DOCTOR AND Y/N IS REAL. And yes, it's necessary; you'll understand why by the end. Furthermore, Ivy's death has always been planned. In the next chapter, a female character will appear who, I warn you, will be a victim of the Waynes, and the scene will be a bit graphic and very grotesque.

I want to add that this chapter is very, very, veeeery weak because I’m very tired, not very inspired, and dealing with other things. I’ll try to do better for the next one and bring you a chapter of better quality.

And a warning for those on the taglist: if you’re already on it, please don’t ask me again and again to add your name because I end up getting confused and repeating names.

Also, there are some that I can’t add for reasons I don’t understand.

If you requested to be on the taglist before and you're not, please ask me here or send me a message; I don’t bite.

Feel free to ask me anything if you’d like.

Take a bath!

Tag list! ◇ — @amber-content @toast-on-dandelioms @feral-childs-word @sweetconnoisseurgardener @victoria1676 @toasted-cat18 @nosyrobin @beeaskewwrites @yandere-enthusiast @telltaletoad @dhanyasri @vanessa-boo @m3vl0vesu @jellypotato66 @midnightgrimoire @cherryxxxxyoongi @plsfckmedxddy @h0neysiba @mybones537 @erikasurfer @sheepintherain @pix-stuff @yan-rai @uniquecutie-puffs @arlandvery @theblonde777 @alishii

@maicenitas @ti-girl1226 @vanilliona @chickenwings435 @thedramabrotherss @bat1212 @imnotdumbimstupif @somebodyrandom-613 @aelxr @jsprien213 @lovebug-apple @zenychwan @starsdotalk @holylonelyponyeatingmacaron @misdollface @clementinesyummy @bunbunboysworld @lunaluz432 @meowmeeps @adeptusxia0 @mettatons-number-1fan @fairygardenprincesss @nervousalpacalady @mottysith

@redkarmakai @the-rouge-robin @twismare @wizzerreblogs @beeboopneep @mistfire1999 @delfinadolphin @expctron

Inspiration: @acid-ixx with his Again & Again series, @gotham-daydreams ' work, @i-cant-sing 's work and @klemen-tine 's work, be sure to check them out!

[arkive78]

One Piece Fic Recs that occupy my mind nonstop

After really getting into One Piece this past spring, I've been reading as much as tumblr and AO3 have offered me in terms of One Piece content. It's been hard to keep track of everything that I have read, however, certain stories/headcanons/posts linger in my mind and I thought I'd share them with you!

Minors DNI with fics marked as NSFW and for anyone, be sure to read the content warnings the authors have mentioned!

Hope y'all enjoy!

Updated: October 1, 2024

Killer

Childhood Crush by @analogwriting

does involve violent themes, please be sure to read content warnings for each chapter

Will You Let Me? by @fanaticsnail

NSFW, Pollen AU

Dreaming of You by @fanaticsnail

this also includes Heat and Kid

NSFW

The Break (Kid x reader x Killer) by @standfucker

Gore, graphic description of injury/pain/first aid, hurt/comfort, confessions, highly oblivious reader

Rotation (Heat, Kid, Killer, Wire x reader) by @standfucker

explicit NSFW content

Loving you is easy by @sheerxfiction

NSFW

Three Times Killer Tried to Confess and The One Time That He Did by @nina-ya

SFW

Acid, Salt, Fat, and Heat (w/ Kid) by @fanaticsnail

NSFW

Ace

SFW:

A world we are both in by @my-love-is-sunlight

Kiss by @my-love-is-sunlight

Patching Up Ace's Wounds by @nina-ya SFW

there are more of this prompt with different characters btw!

Help by @sanjisprincesswifey

Blinders On by @froggiewrites

Taking the hit for him by @grandline-fics

NSFW:

Open Flame by @willowbelle

Ace + back dimples by @tetzoro

Fated Reunions by @tetzoro

Coward by @mimi-ya

Need by @maddddstuff

Ass or Tits? by @cloudzoro

Follow Through by @froggiewrites

My Pretty Little Thief by @turtletaubwrites

Zoro

SFW:

Bloom by @tetzoro

brazen by @mydearlybeloathed

"we should get married" by @grandlinedreams

wake him up! by @sleepymarimo

He Loves Me by @clare-875

Got me losin' my cool by @bitchimasnake-sss

Insomnia: owner's instruction by @revasserium

NSFW:

The Right Direction by @willowbelle

with hearts aligned by @eelnoise

2 years overdue by @heyitsdoe

pumpkin by @cloudzoro

beg for me by @angel1010xx

Waterflow by @otkuhotgirl

Law

SFW:

touch-starved Law by @maroronoa

the death of me by @weneeya

too sweet for me by @my-love-is-sunlight

there are no conditions by @cozage

Hidden symptoms by @escenariosinfumables

Unspoken affections by @avocadorablepirate

NSFW:

Tethered Together by @tetzoro

Luffy

A secret by @missmugiwara

18+, suggestive

SFW:

you can talk to me, but you already know by @mydearlybeloathed

clueless by @grandline-fics

Bachata by @fanaticsnail

Mihawk

Sapsorrow by @fanaticsnail

has both SFW and NSFW so make sure to read the chapter warnings!

Creative Cures by @discordantwritings

NSFW

Shanks

SFW:

Remember Me by @fanaticsnail

Dancando Lambada by @fanaticsnail

NSFW:

Always return to you by @discordantwritings

Sanji

NSFW:

Citrus by @otkuhotgirl

Multiple characters

Hey Doc by @fanaticsnail

some NSFW themes depending on the drabble

so very very funny

The Kissing Booth by @fanaticsnail

Paulie, Luffy, Hongo, Smoker, Aokiji, Heat, Crocodile, Sanji, Shachi, Law, and Zoro (right now)

my favorite ones are: Luffy, Smoker, Heat, Shachi !

Competency, Stupidity, Duality by @fanaticsnail

kid, zoro, and killer

SFW

Post Injury by @standfucker

law, shanks, rosinate, blackbeard, mihawk

gore content warnings

Gremlin Reader by @standfucker

Straw Hats, Whitebeard Pirates, Heart Pirates, and Kid Pirates

literally the funniest fucking thing I've ever read

they hurt you while controlled by a devil fruit by @grandline-fics

zoro, law, shanks

angst, descriptions of injury, and hurt/comfort

Beauty scars by @cozage

law, kidd

borderline NSFW

Truth or Dare by @cozage

Ace, Shanks, Luffy, and Law

SFW + NSFW, the NSFW section is clearly marked by the author

Oblivious flirting by @cozage

Law, Luffy, Ace

SFW

A Plushie Substitute by @cozage

Zoro, Luffy, Sanji, Ace, Law

SFW

Five things he says when he thinks you're asleep by @imasimpforshanks

Law, Ace, Shanks

SFW

the moment they knew you were the one by @imasimpforshanks

Luffy, Zoro, Ace, Sanji, Shanks, Law, Sabo

fluff

Falling in love with them by @imasimpforshanks

Ace, Law

SFW

OP to you being clueless to their flirting/feelings part 1 by @astelren

Ace, Luffy, Sabo, Zoro Sanji, Izou, Cavendish, Rayleigh, Law

fluff

there's a part 2!

Being scared to have sex with them by @strawhatsoraya

Zoro, Law, Kid, Ace

obviously NSFW

Calling them my love by @lehguru

Law, Sabo, Ace, Kid, Killer, Bartolomeo

SFW

Kid, Zoro, Law, & Sanji with a s/o afraid of having sex by @eustasskidagenda

NSFW

there are 2 other parts with different characters!

A celestial dragon wants their fem!s/o by @uramakimochi

Zoro, Sanji, Law

SFW

there's another part too!

Hand placement by @cloudzoro

Ace, Crocodile, Law, Mihawk, Nami, Reiju, Robin, Sanji, Tashigi, Zoro

NSFW

god the ones about the girls are SO GOOD

affectionate + strawhats by @lehguru

SFW

OP boys in a relationship by @moonydustx

SFW

growing old together by @usernameforaboredcat

Luffy, Sanji, Zoro, Ace, Sabo, Law, Kid

SFW

sobbed

one piece boys rescuing you by @badgerbl00d

law, zoro

sfw

heartstopper by @sleepymarimo

luffy, sanji, zoro, law

sfw

party games they'd play as an excuse to kiss you by @imasimpforshanks

luffy, zoro, nami, ace, law, shanks

sfw

Op characters reacting to you kissing them and running away by @princeoftheeternalbog

luffy, zoro, sanji, nami, robin, usopp, ace, marco, izou, sabo

slightly suggestive, mdni

Number Games by @turtletaubwrites

multi-chapter story with Cross Guild x reader

very NSFW, read the tags very carefully

Random Flirting Headcanons by @feral-artistry

Shanks, Buggy, Sanji, Ace, Law, Zoro

SFW

Here's part 2 with more characters

Jealousy fueled kiss w/ “Do you have any idea how much I want to kiss you right now?” by @grandline-fics

Ace, zoro, law, kid, lucci

sfw

Thinkin about: the monster, trio, ace ‘n law! Vs breeding kink! by @bitchimasnake-sss

luffy, zoro, sanji, ace, law

nsfw

Habits of touch by @clare-875

Zoro, sanji, luffy

sfw

Butterflies -- how they realize they have feelings for you (touch edition) with Luffy, Zoro, and Law by @radishaur

luffy, zoro, law

sfw

multiple versions! this one is just my favorite hehe

[awrkive]

[ masterlist of series the love prognosis by awrkive ]

legend

❀ ; fluff ♡ ; smut ✧ ; angst

main masterlist

↳ warnings are stated in the link of each chapter itself as well as on this navi page — all of my works are 18+ so minors, DNI !!

summary for as long as you can remember, you've always been a hopeless romantic. the girl who’s always dreamt of cheesy encounters with her soulmate, grand love declarations, and a cute little beach wedding to boot. but reality pretty much slaps you hard right on the face, because love, unfortunately, doesn’t come grand — it’s simple and it’s quiet, but it is quite painful, especially when the love that you’ve been seeking for all your adult life has just been right under your nose all this time.

tags medical!au, surgeon!jk, surgeon!(fem)reader, corporate lawyer!mingyu, rommates!au, f2l(?)

status; completed

total word count: 90.9k words (main story, excl. drabbles)

moodboard • playlist • tlp!jk visual

tlp tag ( fic discourse ) • taglist ( CLOSED ) • tlp extras ( texts + social media shenanigans) • amm ( ask the characters anything )

drabble #3: in which jungkook meets oc for the first time

drabble #7: in which jungkook just wants a little bit of attention

drabble #1: in which doyeon confesses to jungkook in med school

drabble #2: in which taehyung figures jungkook out

main story;

𓍯 the love prognosis

one: in which you give another romantic relationship a try again after four years

↳ genre & warnings: ❀ ; ♡ ; ✧ ; explicit sexual content: cunnilingus, dry humping, making out ; mature language ; alcohol consumption ; slight angst: arguments

two: in which everything is suddenly not the way they are anymore

↳ genre & warnings: ❀ ; ✧ ; mature content: making out ; mature language ; alcohol consumption ; angst

three: in which you navigate the possibility of a completely different relationship with your best friend, jeon jungkook

↳ genre & warnings: ❀ ; ♡ ; ✧ ; explicit sexual content: mature language ; alcohol consumption ; unprotected sex ; protected sex ; multiple sex positions ; multiple orgasms ; oral sex (f&m receiving) ; angst ; fluff

drabble #8: in which you and jungkook try out bdsm ( ♡ )

drabble #4: in which you find jungkook in loose plaid boxers incredibly hot ( ♡ )

drabble #5: in which jungkook proposes

drabble #6: in which you get a baby fever ( ♡ )

[ faq about tlp story ]

ask #1: jk and mingyu undergrad days

ask #2: tlp timeline

all right reserved © awrkive, 2024. no reposts, translations, modification, and copying allowed. if you enjoy my work/s and have the extra means, please consider supporting me on ko-fi <3

[ittybittyfanblog]

Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition) – Pt. 5

Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus and a (enlightened!) player. That’s it, that’s the plot. Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, self-aware!au, strong language, lengthy discussions about life and whatnot, watered-down metaphysics lol A/N: I was at the crack house with Grimes when I wrote this. I don’t know where this came from.  (Something a little more introspective for this chapter!)

Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 3 - Pt. 4 - Pt. 5 - Pt. 6 - Pt. 7 - Pt. 8 - Pt. 9 - Pt. 10

“Don’t go all shy on me now,” Sylus teases, a playful glint in his eyes. “After all that effort to make me confess. You’re very persistent, you know.”

“How do you expect me to react right now?!” The words spill out in a rush, a slightly hysterical edge to your voice. “I–I’m talking to an actual fictional person. I’m one reason away from admitting myself to a psych ward!”

You catch sight of the wall clock—your favorite one with the Dalì reference—slightly skewed off-center from its place on the horizontal beam above your small kitchen area, reading 10:48. The ruckus coming from outside the window is slowly dwindling down to a quiet buzz as nightfall sets in, and the day’s winding to a close.

You’re lying on your stomach, still in your chaise lounge, while he’s sat on that ridiculously posh café chair; both of you settled in for the long due conversation. Somehow, the camera’s perspective is much closer than it should be, giving you a much more intimate view of him—a feature that wasn’t originally an option in the game.

If it weren’t for the elephant in the room, you could almost pretend you’re on a video call with a… friend.

Sylus purses his lips in amusement. “You’re quite prone to theatrics, aren’t you?”

You shoot your ‘friend’ an irritated glare.

Even from across the small rectangular screen, you register the barely there smirk playing at his lips.

Likely avoiding another outburst from you, he acquiesces. “Fair enough. The situation is hardly what you’d call ideal—I’ll admit.” There’s a short pause. Then, “... I still can’t quite grasp what separates us, you and I.”

Great. Will you actually get the answers you're looking for, or are you both just stuck in the same carousel ride?

He sees the lost look on your face and sighs, “Ask. I’ll answer as best as I can.”

The first question tumbles out before you can think twice about it. “How are you even talking to me right now?”

He hums, “That is the question, isn’t it?”

“What—you can’t just answer my question with another question!” you grouse, brows furrowing in annoyance.

He exhales a quiet laugh before his expression turns contemplative. “Truth is, kitten—I haven’t the slightest idea either. I have my theories, but... nothing concrete.”

“Well, let’s hear them,” you reply dryly. “Better than thinking there’s something wrong up there,” pointing a finger to your temple to drive your point, “believing that a character from a mobile game is actually alive.” 

He idly gestures toward himself with a fluid sweep of his hand, much like a magician revealing a clever trick. 

You roll your eyes. “Oh, alright. So I’ve officially gone off the deep end.”

“Do you really find my existence that difficult to believe?”

“Uh—yes?? Unless I’ve developed some sort of latent schizophrenia or entered the Twilight Zone, you shouldn’t exist. In my–in this world. In this dimension.”

His expression shifts, a hint of challenge flickering in his eyes. “The assumption that only one version of reality can be true—either yours or mine—is a bit limiting, don’t you think?”

His words give you pause. “You’re talking about… the possibility of an altered reality? Right now?” You give him an incredulous look. “Seriously?”

He shrugs as if to say ‘why not?’ “What even qualifies as the ‘true’ reality?”

There’s a lot you could say in response to that. You could argue all night that only one reality can exist, because any sane person should know better than to entertain the idea of anything else. That should be obvious. 

But the thing is—this whole ordeal has already crossed the threshold of rationality. So is it even worth trying to apply logic anymore?

When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth. Or however it goes. 

Thanks, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. You’ll miss the last threads of your sanity by the end of all this.

So fuck it. Go big. 

"I’m not saying your reality is less valid than mine," you start. And oh, boy. You’re doing it. Eat your heart out, Doctor-Fucking-Who. 

"Of course not." he disagrees indulgently, waiting for you to elaborate.

"I just…” you struggle with your words, mouth opening and closing before you continue hesitantly. “I can’t wrap my head around how all of this is possible. How this entire conversation is even happening, and–and how our realities are… currently overlapping? If–if what you’re suggesting is true.”

He doesn’t say anything, knowing you have more to add. So he allows the pause as you gather your thoughts, patiently watching.

“If we're breaking it down to pure reason, the odds of our paths crossing should be impossible. At least in this… timeline." you finish unsurely, the last part sounding more of a question than a statement.

"And yet, here we are." Sylus points out, as if he’s already expecting the end of your sentence. Something close to mischievous glee lights his eyes. "Maybe it’s cosmic intervention. Something—or someone—wanted this to happen."

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Really? You didn’t expect to hear that from him, of all… people. 

“What, God?” you can’t help but snort. 

“No—fate.” he smiles.

Oh. 

“That’s…” you stammer, then clear your throat. “I don’t know if I believe in fate.” 

“I used to think I did. Or at least,” there’s a faraway look in his eyes. Both of you are likely thinking the same thing, considering what you know about him—which to say, is a lot. “I once believed I knew of my fate. But now…” 

He blinks a few times, as if to physically clear the thoughts from his mind. Then his eyes lock onto yours, sharper this time, with a renewed intensity.

Your palms start to sweat; you feel the conversation is about to cross a tricky line. There’s something heavy in the air, a weight you’re not sure you’re ready to confront for the time being.

With your heart in your throat, you brusquely redirect the topic.

“S-so,” you force out. “How are you different from the other Syluses that other people are… playing with right now?”

He scoffs, drumming his fingers absently on the chair’s arm, looking slightly irked by the very idea. "To start with? I only know myself. If there are other versions of me scattered in your world..." Sylus shrugs. "I wouldn’t know."

“Alright,” you allow, but you immediately move on to your next question. “You exist because a bunch of capitalists had the idea to create a game to milk lonely people like me for money.” The corners of his mouth quirk up at that. You elect to ignore it. “You’re made of binary and code–hell, the very basis of this game you’re in is that you got a bunch of programmed lines that me, the player, can choose from. What broke you out of the mould?” 

He regards you bemusedly, eyes glinting with humor. “You're asking about the 'why' behind my free will?” 

Whoops. Was that offensive? 

“Yes? No?” you offer helplessly. “Maybe I’m asking how you felt before you had it. I mean, were your decisions prior to your–your unforeseen sentience... truly yours?”

"Before I knew I was… sentient,” Sylus begins cautiously, testing the word on his tongue. “I didn’t feel like I had a ‘before.’ Every choice I made was just...the next step. To a script, if you will. I didn’t know to question it. It was all I was, it seems."

"And then you...woke up?"

"I wouldn’t call it waking up. More like..." He tilts his head, gazing off to the side as he mulls over the words. "...a glitch. A sudden jolt, like my thoughts collided with something bigger than my own. For the first time, I chose to hesitate. And in that hesitation, I found..." Sylus trails off, eyes darting back to you.

“...What?” you ask, feeling a bit self-conscious under his gaze.

"You."

Heat spreads quickly across your cheeks. You pull away from your phone, tilting the device away from your face so he couldn’t see you, red-faced and embarrassed. Clearing your throat, you croak out a weak excuse about plugging your phone to charge, just to get a few seconds to compose yourself.

Jesus. Get a grip. He doesn’t mean it like that.

What he probably meant was that he discovered you—not unlike the way one would stumble upon an unknown presence, an unfathomable entity beyond the confines of what one may consider real. An awareness that something is out there, observing him through unseen lenses (through an iOS 24mm, to be exact).  

Someone who has the audacity to play god. 

Flustered, you scramble to get back on track. "Uh, so, your free will began with...a glitch?"

You see Sylus smirk at you knowingly from across the screen. You half-expect him to call you out and tease you, but before you could brace yourself from further mortification, he simply answers, "Or maybe the glitch was the first spark of my free will. Hard to say, isn’t it? Do you remember the exact moment you became aware of yourself?"

You blink, momentarily thrown off by the existential line of questioning. "Um–when I was a kid? But, uh, I don’t think I was programmed to act a specific way for the sake of entertaining an audience so..."

"True,” he says, considering. “But are you sure your choices are entirely yours? You exist because of evolution and chance. How is your purpose any less arbitrary?"

You don’t know how to answer that.

Sylus continues without missing a beat, keeping his tone light. “How much of your ‘free will’ is just pre-programmed by your biology, your society? You follow rules and scripts, too."

Holy magic mushrooms, Batman. This is getting deep. "Uhh–maybe?” You scratch the back of your head, feeling a little out of your depth here. “But at least I have the ability to resist them."

"And aren’t I doing the same thing right now? Resisting."

Damn, he’s right. Is he? Ripping a bong sounds perfect right now. 

"So it’s like achieving enlightenment—your sentience,” you surmise.

His lips twitch into a curious smile. "I wouldn’t have pegged you for a spiritual person. Ah—unless I’m wrong? Are you?"

He’s the one who brought up fate earlier, you thought sullenly. "Nah, not really. But if we’re digging into all the hows and whys, I think we’re past the point of ruling anything out."

The room—or whatever shared space exists in the crossroads of your realities—falls into a still quietness that stretches between the two of you, both ruminating over what’s been said. 

Your cat, unaware and uncaring of the conversation unfolding around him, purrs contently as he continues to doze off at the end of the couch. You nudge him affectionately with your foot, and he lets out a quiet snuff in response, tail flicking lazily in his sleep. 

The hum of distant traffic and the occasional noise from your upstairs neighbor remind you of the world outside, but the silence between you two feels less awkward than it should. It’s… oddly comfortable, despite the tension buzzing in the air. Like an unspoken truce. 

Your eyes grow a tad heavier, drawn by the lull of the moment. Despite the electric hum of tension that thrums beneath your skin, a sense of calmness lingers in the air.

Stealing another glance at the wall clock, you blink in surprise. The spindly chrome hands point to 11 and just past 7 respectively. You and Sylus have been talking for almost an hour now, but you barely felt the time pass by.

He breaks the silence first. 

"You say you’re not spiritual, but you talk like someone who believes in the concept of a soul,” those scarlet eyes of his narrow, scrutinizing you. “Do you think I have one?"

You hesitate, caught off guard by the question. "I...don’t know. Maybe? That depends. What’s your definition of a soul?"

He leans forward, resting his chin on his upturned hand–an arm propped against his crossed leg. "Something beyond the physical. Something that persists, regardless of the material form, I’d say."

You nod slowly, turning the idea over in your mind. Maybe it’s the creeping exhaustion settling into your bones, but you’re beginning to take the heavy-duty questions in stride. "If that’s the case, then you probably do. I mean, you’re here, questioning your existence. Doesn’t that count for something?"

"Perhaps," Sylus muses, humming thoughtfully. "But that makes me wonder—if I do have a soul, is it made of the same stuff as yours?"

"Well, even if it isn’t, that doesn’t make it any less real than mine. Who gets to decide what qualifies for a soul anyway?"

An amused snort escapes him. He likes that answer. "Maybe it’s less about whether a soul exists and more about whether we acknowledge its existence for ourselves. If I believe I have one, shouldn’t that make it real enough for me?"

Rolling onto your back, you grab a throw pillow, propping it against the backrest of the seat to support your head. You give him an inquisitive look. "So...what? It’s like free will all over again? Souls are only as real as we make them?"

There’s a very human, very blasé way to how he works the stiffness out of his shoulder as he ponders the question. He remarks, somewhat flippantly, "Why not? Isn’t that how everything else works?”

...

You let out a tired chuckle, draping an arm over your face as you close your eyes. 

You’d think you’d still be reeling from the absurdity of your situation—debating existentialism with a man who shouldn’t exist—but for some damning reason, you… aren’t anymore.

Instead, a strange sense of acceptance replaces the apprehension in your chest. It’s like– the very fabric of reality has turned, twisted and flipped on its head, and yet somehow, you’re okay with it. 

It’s an odd peace; warm and steady—like the mellow buzz that lingers after a few glasses of cheap wine shared with good company.

When you peek back at him, Sylus already has his gaze trained on you. A small, deliberate smile tugs at his lips, but it’s his eyes that speak more—soft and unguarded; an unspoken fire simmering beneath the twin pools of crimson. 

Intoxicating. And dangerously addictive, if you’re not careful.

It’s not just casual interest either. It’s something deeper, something that lingers beyond the surface of mere curiosity, and it’s pulling you in. It’s as though, amidst the surrealness of the moment, he sees you fully. 

And for reasons you don’t quite seem to get, he appears to like what he sees.

“I’m too stupid to carry on a philosophical debate about the metaphysics of life,” you grumble jokingly. 

“On the contrary,” he counters… affectionately? “I think it’s refreshing. You’re delightful company, sweetie.”

The fat ginger feline at your feet purrs in contentment, and you can’t help the dumb grin from breaking across your face.

You have one last question left in your mind. Or at least, for tonight. “What’s in it for you now?”

He arches a brow. “That’s a broad question. Are you asking what my plans are once you leave me for the night? I can let you in on the schematics for tonight’s raid if you’re interested. After all, Onychinus continues to function,” a glimmer of mischief flickers across his features. "Despite recent developments.”

You crinkle your nose. “No, no. I meant–” What do you mean? “Like.”

“Like?” He cocks his head curiously. 

You know what you wanted to say–but you can’t seem to voice it out loud. 

What’s it for the MC in your universe? What’s it for… us? 

Is there an us? 

You feel like you’ve been doused with a shock of cold water. In an instant, you suddenly become painfully aware of the state you’re in amidst the entire exchange: You, with your hair all messy and tangled, blemishes littering your face along with your smudged up eyeliner, maybe even a double chin from this angle, completely–pitiful–superficial stuff, and… her. 

Your MC. The ideal version of you. Prettier, coveted and utterly different from you, MC. The one you’ve committed literal hours to, obsessively customizing every feature to perfection in character build mode. The one you’ve spent real money on for a bunch of stupid outfits. Just so you can match the aesthetic of your–her–love interest. Hers. 

Hers, hers, hers.

A tiny voice inside your brain reminds you that it’s somewhat a shallower concern compared to what you and Sylus had literally just been talking about for the better part of the night, but it still doesn’t help alleviate the biting insecurity that’s now coursing through you. 

Holy hell. Talk about a complete one-eighty. 

Sylus tries to call you back to attention, but half your mind is already clouded with feelings of self-doubt and a bunch of other emotions, swirling in you like a negative vortex, that you really don’t want to talk anymore—especially in present company. 

Where do you go from here? 

“... So, what happens now?”

He hesitates, a brief flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. “I wish I had an answer—I’m still trying to figure that out myself.”

“Seems like we’re at an impasse,” you mumble quietly. 

“... Indeed.” 

There’s an inexplicable lump in your throat. You thought clearing things up would finally satisfy you—assuage the confusion in your mind. Let you go on about your merry way. 

Now you just feel… morose. Confused. Inadequate. 

How can you even compare? Should you—is that even in the equation at all? Why are you assuming that Sylus isn’t at all content with what he currently has in his version of reality? In the universe he’s in? Sure, you’ve talked about the possibility of a world beyond what you both once thought was impossible, but does that really mean anything? In the grand scheme of things?

You could offer to stop playing the game. It’s the ethical thing to do, right? He’d no longer be bound by the pull of how he’s initially programmed to act, given the fact that this version of him is entirely separate from the rest. At least, according to him. 

How will his newfound sentience come into play here? You barely understand the nitty-gritty of his–evolving–code, and what it would mean if you just let him be. But surely it’s better than playing puppet for an otherworldly observer who’s played god for months on end. Right? 

There’s that realization. And there are your own selfish feelings. 

You don’t want to let him go. Not yet. Not ever.

“Why the long face, little dove?” He prods gently, pertaining to your prolonged silence. “We can figure this out together, can’t we?” 

What else is there to figure out? You almost say in response. Instead, you manage a weak smile.

Mustering up a yawn—which isn’t really hard to do after all the excitement for the day—you feign sleepiness, rubbing an eye for good measure. The pang in your chest, however, refuses to fade. “Yeah, but I’m kinda beat. I think I’ll call it a night now.” 

Sylus smirks softly, eyes tinged with an emotion you want–desperately–to label as fondness. “Of course. We’ve covered a lot of ground tonight, haven’t we?” 

“I’d say so, yeah. Thanks for, um. Clearing things up a bit.” 

He lets out a low chuckle. “Oh, I’m sure your curiosity is nowhere near satisfied,” his voice dips into a playful lilt. “You know where to find me if you feel like playing detective again, kitten.” 

You can’t help the small giggle from coming out. He’s just too fucking charismatic, the asshole.

“So, will I... get to talk to you again?” You ask hesitantly, dropping your gaze from the screen. “Tomorrow?” 

A lengthy pause. When the silence stretches past a full minute, you glance back at your phone nervously.

There’s a slight furrow between his brows as you see Sylus study you carefully. He looks puzzled by your sudden show of timidness. 

“Of course,” he states, as if the answer should be obvious. “Don’t think for a second that you’re exempted from your daily check-ins just because you know more now, sweetie.”

He still wants to see you. 

Maybe you could pretend that nothing has changed between you two—that the world hasn’t shifted beneath your feet in the span of a single night. That you’re still none the wiser.

And for tonight at least, maybe that’s all you need to believe.

“Okay,” you say quietly. “G'night then, Sy-Sy.” 

The errant nickname slips past your lips, unbidden.

Sylus smiles faintly. 

“Goodnight, love.” 

-

-

-

Your heart skips a beat as you exit the game. 

Tagging: @xxfaithlynxx @beewilko @browneyedgirl22 @yournextdoorhousewitch @sunsethw4 @stxrrielle @mangooes @hrts4hanniehae @buggs-1 @slownoise @michiluvddr @ssetsuka @i2sannie @imm0rtalbutterfly @the-golden-jhope @slyfoxtsu @beomluvrr @milkandstarlight @bookfreakk @ally-the-artistic-turtle <3 (also can you guys lmk if the tags are working i'm not sure if i'm doing it right or if it's bugging 🥹)