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hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall · 19 days ago

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For Rome - Chapter 1

Summary: A weary Roman General, Marcus Acasius, sets out to find the so-called "Angel" his soldiers speak of—a woman with a gentle touch and an even softer voice. What he discovers is far more extraordinary than he ever imagined.

Pairing: General Marcus Acasius x F!Reader

Warnings: a description of injuries (I'm not a doctor or do not have any medical education so apologies), nothing here yet. English isn't my first language so all mistakes are mine for which I apologise.

Words: 6K

The life of a soldier was never an easy one, but the life of a Roman soldier? It was a crucible of steel and blood. General Marcus Acasius knew this better than most. War had carved its lessons into his flesh and seared them into his soul. He had lived through campaigns that churned the earth with rivers of blood, watched comrades fall like broken reeds, and seen hope flicker and die in the eyes of too many men. This was not a life he would have wished upon his worst enemies—let alone himself.

And yet, here he was. Bound by duty, chained to Rome’s legacy, and crushed beneath the weight of serving not one, but two emperors whose names would forever leave a bitter taste on his tongue.

Two boys drowning in power they neither earned nor understood. They were spoiled by their station and cruel in their ignorance, wielding authority like a child might a blade—clumsy, reckless, and devastating. Marcus had long since lost count of the orders he had executed on their behalf, justifying them under the banner of Rome. Yet he knew the truth. He had not fought for Rome in years. He fought for their whims, their games. And the cost? Endless bloodshed. Endless grief.

The screams haunted him most—the keening wails of mothers clutching lifeless sons, the choking sobs of widows, the silent, hollow-eyed children whose futures he had stolen with the sweep of a sword. He had grown sick of it all. Sick of blood-soaked glory, of starving masses, of men reduced to mere tools in the grotesque machinery of imperial ambition.

Perhaps that was why he found himself here now, in the shadowed underground of the subcity. The stench of rot and despair clung to the narrow alleys, and the skeletal frames of the impoverished haunted every corner. It was a place forgotten by the sun and abandoned by Rome, yet it thrummed with whispers.

Whispers of you.

An “angel,” his soldiers had called you. At first, he had dismissed their reverent tones as the drunken ramblings of battle-weary men. What could an angel possibly look like in a place like this? But the way they spoke of you lingered in his mind, drawing him down into this forsaken part of the city.

It was not the talk of your beauty that intrigued him. He had seen beauty before—false and true, fleeting and eternal. What struck him was the way his men, hardened and stoic, described your hands, your voice, your presence. They spoke of the way your touch could ease pain, how your smile softened the sharp edges of their suffering, and how your words, simple and kind, could light the darkest of days. They described you with an almost childlike awe, as though you were something beyond their comprehension, something Rome itself could not tarnish.

Marcus wanted to scoff at their adoration, but the weight in their voices told him otherwise. Could someone like you truly exist in this ruined city? A city bloated with greed, corroded by power, and built on the bones of the desperate? He needed to see for himself.

You were said to help those Rome had cast aside—the soldiers, the beggars, the orphans, and the broken. While the wealthy insulated themselves from the rot, you faced it head-on. Even Lady Lucilla, a shrewd and guarded aristocrat, spoke of you with an uncharacteristic fondness. “A stubborn creature,” she had called you with a rare smile. “She takes only what she needs, no more, even when I insist. She’s maddeningly selfless, like a fool chasing the wind.”

It was those words that lingered as he descended into the subcity. They painted an image of someone unyielding, someone who refused to be swallowed by the darkness around her. Someone who, perhaps, could remind him of what it meant to fight for something greater than power.

The streets grew narrower, the air thicker. His boots crunched against the broken cobblestones as he approached the small gathering place where you were said to tend to the sick and weary. His heart, hardened by years of war, beat faster, not with fear but with something he couldn’t quite name.

The room was not what he expected.

Makeshift beds lined both sides of the narrow space, occupied by men, women, and children in various states of weariness and healing. Yet, unlike the countless barracks and field hospitals Marcus Acasius had seen in his lifetime, this place radiated an unusual serenity. The faces of the sleeping bore no trace of the gnawing fear he had come to associate with suffering. It was as if some invisible spell had been cast here, lulling their troubled souls into a rare and precious peace.

He inhaled deeply, preparing for the sharp sting of blood and rot so common in places of injury and despair. Instead, the air was clean—remarkably so. It smelled faintly of herbs, maybe lavender, and something subtler, something soothing. It reminded him of the private quarters back at his villa, of the rare nights when he could sleep without the shadows of war pressing against his chest. A ridiculous thought, he chastised himself.

And then, he saw you.

You stood with your back to him, entirely focused on the child sitting on the small, battered chair in front of you. Marcus had made no attempt to move quietly—he was a soldier, not a thief—but you hadn’t turned at the sound of his boots on the stone floor. It wasn’t fearlessness; it was trust, an unshakable calm that marked every movement of your hands as you adjusted the sling cradling the boy’s injured arm.

The child couldn’t have been older than eight. His tear-streaked face glistened under the dim light, and yet his lips curved into a smile—soft, hesitant, but undeniably genuine. A smile on the face of an injured child. Marcus stared at the sight, unmoored. He had never seen such a thing before. In the chaos of war, even when children were treated, their screams and sobs were met with indifference, their pain an afterthought. But here, this boy laughed—a pure, light sound that bounced off the walls like a small rebellion against misery.

“General.”

Marcus turned to his right, startled from his reverie. One of his men lay in a bed nearby, his head wrapped in clean bandages, his arm in a sling not unlike the boy’s. He bore the marks of battle but looked far better than Marcus had expected. There was color in his cheeks, and his voice, though tired, carried a note of gratitude. “I didn’t expect to see you here, sir.”

With a quick wave of his hand, Marcus silenced the man’s attempt to rise and salute. Before he could reply, a burst of laughter drew his attention back to you.

The boy was laughing again, his small body shaking with mirth. From where Marcus stood, it seemed you were scolding him, your finger jabbing lightly into his tiny chest. But the smirk tugging at the corners of your lips betrayed you. Whatever you were saying, it was no reprimand. It was a game, a tease, an effort to pull the child out of his fear and into the safety of his own joy.

You lifted the boy off the chair with ease, steadying him as his bare feet touched the floor. His brows knit together as you handed him a small cloth bag, but his frown vanished the moment he peeked inside. His wide, shining eyes spoke volumes. To him, whatever lay within was a treasure.

“Food,” the soldier beside Marcus murmured, his voice low as if sharing a secret. “She always sends them off with something to eat and a few bandages, in case they need more later.”

Marcus turned to him, his expression unreadable.

“We soldiers don’t take the bags,” the man added, his lips curving into a faint smile. “It’s our way of helping her, in a sense.”

Marcus’s gaze shifted back to you, just as the boy flung his arms around your waist. The child’s face pressed into the fabric of your tunic, and for a moment, Marcus expected you to flinch, to recoil from the dirt and grime clinging to him. But you didn’t. Instead, you wrapped your arms around him, holding him as though his small embrace was a gift you treasured.

The light in your eyes was unguarded, pure, as though you had managed to unearth something sacred in this forsaken world. And in that instant, Marcus understood. It wasn’t just the calm you brought to the room or the kindness in your actions. It was the way you saw them—not as burdens, not as broken things to be fixed, but as people.

His gaze landed on you then. You had paused in your work, looking at him with a flicker of curiosity. For a moment, your eyes studied him, piecing together who he might be. Then came the realization, settling over your face like a shadow. Marcus braced himself, expecting anger, distrust, or even fear. He was, after all, the embodiment of the Rome that so many here had suffered under—a man of war, destruction, and discipline.

But no such emotion crossed your features. What he saw instead was recognition and something that startled him even more: worry.

You moved toward him with a grace so natural it seemed deliberate, your steps soft and careful, as though you were wary of waking the injured souls around you. Not that the child’s laughter hadn’t already done so—it rang through the space like a bell, impossible to ignore. Yet your gentle tread felt like a habit born not of necessity but of respect.

“General Marcus Acasius,” you greeted him, your voice low but warm, your lips curling into a soft smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. The worry lingered there, quiet but unmistakable. “Whatever brings you here? I hope you’re not injured?”

Your voice was something else entirely. It carried a tenderness he had not heard in years. It reminded him of a mother soothing her child after a nightmare. No wonder his men had spoken of you the way they had; he could see now how easily they must have fallen under your spell.

“Nothing to worry about,” he replied, surprised at the gravel in his voice. “Just a few bruises—annoying more than painful.” He didn’t know why he admitted it out loud. Perhaps it was the way your eyes held his, unwavering and full of quiet concern, or the way your tone invited truth without demanding it.

“I can take a look at them, if you’ll let me.”

You stepped closer then, as if reaching out to touch him, but your hand hesitated mid-air before falling back to your side. It was almost imperceptible, that moment of pause, but Marcus saw it. It wasn’t fear. It was something else—an acknowledgment, perhaps, of who he was and what he carried. You were cautious, yes, but not timid.

Your attention shifted to the soldier in the nearby bed, and the smile on your face broadened into something softer, brighter. “Emascus,” you murmured, moving to his side. Your hand brushed gently against his forehead as you checked his temperature, your touch featherlight. “You’re not running so hot anymore. That’s a relief.”

The soldier nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

Marcus watched the exchange, a strange mixture of emotions stirring in his chest. Gratitude was chief among them—gratitude that someone cared for his men in a way he no longer could. Your hands, your voice, your presence—it was a balm for these battle-weary souls. But beneath that gratitude was a deep sadness. It pained him that such care could only be found here, in the forgotten corners of Rome, among those cast aside by the empire he had given his life to defend.

Your voice drew him from his thoughts.

“Would you be so kind as to wait for me in that room there?” you asked, gesturing toward a door at the end of the corridor.

For a moment, Marcus didn’t register that you were speaking to him. When he did, his brows lifted in surprise. There was an unexpected firmness in your tone—not commanding, exactly, but resolute. Though your words were phrased as a request, there was no mistaking that you fully expected him to comply.

“I like my patients to have an ounce of privacy while I take care of them,” you continued, your smile returning, this time with a hint of mischief. “If you allow it, my lord.”

Something in your tone almost made him laugh. He hadn’t been spoken to like this in years—not with such quiet authority, not by someone who seemed utterly unshaken by his presence. You didn’t seem to see the weight of his title, only the bruised man standing before you.

His lips twitched, amusement threatening to break his stern facade, but he merely nodded and turned toward the door. He left the soldier in your care and entered the room you had indicated.

The space was small but neat, with a wooden bench against one wall and a table holding an assortment of salves and bandages. It smelled faintly of herbs, the scent even stronger here than in the main room. As he sat, Marcus felt a strange sense of anticipation, as though crossing the threshold of this room had marked the beginning of something he couldn’t yet name.

He leaned back, his gaze drifting to the door as he waited. For the first time in years, he wasn’t thinking of battles or emperors. Instead, his mind was filled with you—your quiet confidence, your steady hands, and the unexpected strength in your voice.

He hadn’t even noticed when his eyes closed. The stillness of the room wrapped around him, lulling him into an unfamiliar calm. It was unlike him to let his guard down. Years of war had taught him to remain vigilant, always aware of his surroundings. Yet here he was, letting his defenses crumble in the quiet warmth of this strange place.

The great General Marcus Acasius, lulled into a fleeting peace by a mere slip of a woman. He almost chuckled at the absurdity of it. Somewhere in the heavens, the gods were surely laughing.

When he woke, the room was darker than he remembered. The soft glow of a single candle now lit the space, casting flickering shadows across the walls. He blinked, his eyes adjusting, and realized the other candles had been extinguished. The lone flame illuminated a desk cluttered with papers, small jars, and bundles of herbs.

You sat there, leaning over a parchment, your brow furrowed in concentration. The light caught the curve of your cheek and the faint smudge of ink on your fingers. There was an endearing focus to the way you worked, your nose scrunching slightly as if deep thought required such a gesture.

A strange thought crossed his mind—you looked almost...adorable.

“Why didn’t you wake me?”

His voice was rougher than he intended, and he regretted it when you jumped, startled by the unexpected sound. Your hand flew to your chest, but the alarm faded quickly, replaced by that familiar, calming smile.

“You seemed like you needed the rest, my lord,” you replied, standing to light the other candles. The room grew warmer, brighter, the flickering light chasing away the shadows and revealing more of the space. You moved with practiced ease, each motion deliberate yet unhurried.

Moments later, you handed him a cup of wine. “It may not be as fine as what you’re accustomed to, but my father always said it’s good manners to greet a guest of high rank with wine rather than water.”

There was a playful lilt to your voice, a teasing cheerfulness that felt out of place yet oddly welcome. It caught him off guard—not just the tone, but the fact that you spoke to him as if he were merely a man, not a general burdened by the weight of Rome’s empire. There was respect in your words, yes, but also a grounding quality that made him feel human, rather than the untouchable figure most people treated him as.

He took a cautious sip of the wine, raising a brow in surprise. It wasn’t the finest vintage he’d ever tasted, but it was far from the worst. Given your introduction, he’d expected something barely drinkable.

His surprise deepened when he noticed you pouring yourself a cup of water.

“I prefer to keep my wits about me,” you said, catching his expression. “A clear head is important, especially if someone comes in need.”

But when he didn’t respond, still staring at you with mild bewilderment, you reached for his cup and took a small sip of the wine yourself. The casualness of the gesture startled him. You drank as if it were the most natural thing in the world, then placed the cup back in his hands with a smirk.

“See? I’d make a terrible healer if I poisoned my patients.”

“And since when am I your patient?” he asked, his tone caught between amusement and disbelief. Few dared to address him so directly, let alone with such nonchalance.

“Since you admitted your bruises,” you replied, settling onto the edge of your desk with an easy grace. You leaned forward slightly, your gaze locking with his. “Speaking of which, will you let me see them? I might be able to make them less...annoying.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, almost forming a smile. The way you quoted his own words back at him carried a lightness he hadn’t felt in years.

For a moment, he simply looked at you. In a world that demanded so much pretense, you were refreshingly unguarded, completely at ease in your skin. There was a peculiar strength in your openness, a quiet defiance of the world’s harshness that left him disarmed.

And against all odds, he found himself nodding.

“Let me help you with this,” you said softly, gesturing to his armor.

Your tone was steady but not commanding, leaving the choice entirely to him. Marcus hesitated for a moment before nodding, a small gesture that carried more weight than you realized. You hadn’t moved an inch until he gave his permission, a restraint he found rare and striking. You valued dignity, it seemed—not just your own but that of others—and in a world like his, where power often crushed such considerations, it felt like a delicacy.

Your hands, though small, moved with confidence. It wasn’t the first armor you had removed, that much was clear. Yet there was a care in the way you handled the clasps and buckles, as if you weren’t simply working with steel but touching him directly. That thought made Marcus uneasy, though not unpleasantly so. You were a mystery, a curious creature that didn’t fit into any category he knew.

When you finally peeled away the layers of armor and his tunic, leaving him in his undergarment, your sharp intake of breath didn’t escape him.

“Those look a bit more than just annoying bruises,” you chided, your voice carrying both concern and a quiet reprimand.

Marcus felt strangely exposed—not just physically but in some deeper, more vulnerable way. He had been treated by healers before, but those were men, soldiers like himself, who patched him up with brisk efficiency and little ceremony. This was different.

Your fingers brushed over his scars and bruises, light and careful, yet purposeful. Some of the older wounds bore the telltale signs of sloppy care: reddish bandages, poorly healed scars, and swelling around the stitches. Your grimace deepened as your gaze settled on two scars that had become infected.

He watched your face, noticing the way your lips pressed together in frustration, your brows knitting with disapproval. It wasn’t directed at him, though. That much was clear.

“You don’t look too happy,” he said, his voice laced with dry humor.

You sighed, your fingers continuing their examination. He winced when you pressed gently against one bruise, testing for deeper damage. But when your hand moved to the large bruise near his ribs, the pain was immediate and sharp. Marcus flinched, a curse slipping through his clenched teeth as his hand shot up to grab yours, stopping you from pressing further.

“Forgive me, General,” you said, your tone clipped, “but at least now I know you do feel pain. You’re just a complete moron for ignoring it.”

“Excuse me?” Marcus exclaimed, genuinely taken aback. For the first time in years, someone had spoken to him with such boldness, and he wasn’t sure whether to be offended or impressed. “Do you care who you’re speaking to?”

Your expression didn’t waver. In fact, you seemed entirely unbothered by his title or his irritation. “You can sentence me to death for my words if you wish, my lord,” you said, your voice firm but laced with a frustration he could only describe as maternal, “but it doesn’t change the fact that you have multiple broken ribs. And you’ve neglected them. Not to mention whoever last treated your wounds should be stripped of any right to practice medicine. Two of these scars are infected, and I’ll need to reopen, clean, and stitch them properly.”

You glanced up at him then, and his breath caught. The anger in your eyes wasn’t for him—it was for his neglect and whoever had failed to care for him properly. There was something about that look, fiery and determined, that melted something in him he hadn’t realized was frozen.

“So you can do whatever you wish with my head,” you continued, your tone softening slightly but still resolute, “but only after I’ve taken care of you, my lord.”

Marcus stared at you, speechless. No one had ever cared for him enough to risk their own well-being for his. You had to know the danger of speaking to him this way, yet here you stood, unwavering.

And, to his surprise, he didn’t mind. He found that when it came to you, he didn’t care about his status or authority.

“Where do you want me?” he asked at last, the faintest hint of amusement in his voice.

You blinked, caught off guard for the first time. Your reaction was subtle—just a few moments of hesitation—but it was enough to make him smirk. A small, childish triumph stirred in his chest, a victory that felt sweeter than any battle he’d won.

You were good. Really damn good. It didn’t take long for Marcus to understand why his men preferred you over the hardened healers in the camps. Your hands were smaller, gentler, moving with a precision that was both calming and mesmerizing. But it wasn’t just your touch—it was the way you talked him through each step, explaining what you were doing as though giving him a measure of control. It was a strange thing for him to find comfort in, but it steadied him in ways he didn’t expect.

When the time came to reopen his infected scars, you hesitated. Your expression faltered, guilt flashing across your features like a crack in the calm façade you wore. “Brace yourself,” you said softly, almost pleading. And when the scalpel touched his skin, you winced, as though the pain you inflicted was your own to bear.

It hurt, of course, but it was nothing Marcus hadn’t endured before. Yet the way you worked, with such care and purpose, made it impossible to look away. Your movements were swift but deliberate, your focus unwavering. You cleaned each wound with an attentiveness he had never experienced, as though the scars on his body were more than just marks of survival—they were something sacred.

“You’re better behaved than your men,” you teased as you began cleaning the second wound.

Marcus raised a brow, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Oh?”

“I remember Euthris once proposing that a kiss would make him feel better,” you said, a grin tugging at your lips.

He chuckled, the sound surprising even himself. He had known women who would have slapped a man for such a comment without hesitation. And yet here you were, laughing about it.

“I do apologize for my men,” he said, his tone warm, amusement lacing his words. Truthfully, he understood the poor soldier’s sentiment. He surprised himself by realizing he wouldn’t mind a kiss from you either. But he was no longer as bold as he once had been—age and experience had tempered him. “I assume he left thoroughly disappointed?”

You shook your head, a playful glint in your eye. “I kissed his cheek to thank him for donating his food bag to someone else.”

Marcus blinked, taken aback by your words. His expression softened as he processed them. Perhaps his men were flirtatious, even bold, but they were also honorable.

“They’re good men,” you continued, your voice quieter now. “I’ve noticed the way they leave their bags behind, or how they slip coins into places they think I won’t see. They could spend those coins on something for themselves, but instead, they choose to help. You should be proud of them, my lord.”

“I don’t believe I’ve had much to do with their actions…” Marcus began, but his words faltered as you began stitching the reopened scar.

Your apologies came soft and quick, almost teary, as the needle pierced his skin. He wanted to tell you it was fine, to reach out and brush the concern from your face, but he remained still, letting you work.

“I didn’t know about your existence,” he said after a moment, his voice quieter now. “I came here because I overheard my men talking about you during one of their drunken nights.”

You flushed at that, your laughter turning awkward and small.

“They spoke of an ‘Angel,’” he continued, his eyes fixed on your face. “And I had to see for myself.”

“You must be disappointed then, my lord,” you whispered with a hint of humor, turning to the next wound. Again, you apologized softly when the needle broke through his skin.

“I never had an image in mind of what an angel might look like,” he said. His voice dipped, becoming almost reverent as he reached up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. The movement was instinctive, unplanned, and when your body froze beneath his touch, he hesitated. Had he crossed a line?

“But if someone were to ask me now,” he continued, his hand retreating slowly, “I would give them your description.”

Your breath hitched, and your wide eyes lifted to meet his. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the air between you thick with something unspoken.

You had heard of General Marcus Acasius. His name carried weight, whispered among soldiers and citizens alike. He was a formidable force, a man whose strength and cunning had turned the tide of many battles. But more than that, he was spoken of as a good man—merciless in war but fair, unwavering in his duty.

When he had walked into your space earlier that day, the first thing you noticed was how unfairly handsome he was. You had wondered, fleetingly, how a man like him could ever be sent to a battlefield. But now, as you stitched the last wound and felt the weight of his words sink in, you realized he was more than his reputation. He cared for his men, even as he neglected himself. He spoke without arrogance, treated you with respect, and carried a depth that made you want to know more.

“Forgive me, my lady. It seems I’m as ill-behaved as my men,” Marcus chuckled, the sound warm yet apologetic. His gaze dropped to your hands, which had frozen mid-motion after his words and touch. You swallowed hard, regaining your composure, and quickly returned to stitching the last wound.

When you finished, your voice was soft, almost hesitant as you asked him to remain lying down. If the room hadn’t been so quiet, he might have missed it entirely. Without waiting for a response, you turned to your table, busying yourself with a small bottle and herbs.

The smell that wafted from your work was unlike the harsh medicinal odors he’d grown accustomed to—sharp, biting scents that clung to battlefields and camps. This was different, a subtle and soothing aroma that seemed to fill the space with peace. He found himself breathing it in deeply, drawn to its unfamiliar comfort.

“You have nothing to apologize for, my lord,” you said after a moment, your voice steadier now. When you turned back to him with a medium-sized bottle and a piece of gauze, he noticed the faint flush on your cheeks. His lips curved into a small, unbidden smile, his ego growing slightly at the sight.

“Rather than ill-mannered,” you added, a shy smile tugging at your lips, “it was quite charming, I must admit.”

Marcus chuckled again, his gaze resting on you as though you were some kind of art—something rare and unexpected in his world of violence and chaos.

“But I am no lady,” you continued, meeting his eyes briefly before glancing away. “I’m just a girl from the lower classes, trying to carve out a place for herself in this cruel world.”

“You are the reason my soldiers are still standing,” he replied, his voice steady and sincere. “If anyone is worthy of the title, it’s you.”

His words took you off guard. There was a weight to them, a charm so effortless it almost felt unintentional. “Not to mention,” he added with a faint smirk, “you still haven’t told me your name.”

Your reaction was almost comical—your hands paused mid-action, and your mouth opened as if to reply, only for you to close it again, too embarrassed to speak. Marcus couldn’t hold back the laugh that burst from him. It was deep, genuine, and so free of burden that it surprised even himself. He hadn’t laughed like that in years, and you, caught in the sound of it, found yourself smiling despite your flustered state.

Finally, you managed to stammer out your name. The way he repeated it, soft and deliberate, made your heart skip a beat.

“I…” You cleared your throat, willing the warmth in your cheeks to fade. “I’ll apply this oil to the bruises on your ribs, then wrap them with bandages. I assume you won’t accept the bandages from me.”

When he nodded, the smirk on his face grew, earning a roll of your eyes.

“Fine,” you said with mock exasperation. “But I insist you take the oil and use it before bed each night.”

He hesitated for only a moment before accepting the bottle. He knew well enough he couldn’t find anything like it elsewhere. But as you began to pull your hand away, his fingers closed gently over yours, stopping you.

From beneath the folds of his armor, Marcus retrieved a small leather bag. Without hesitation, he placed it in your hand. The weight of the coins surprised you, and you immediately began to shake your head.

“I cannot accept this,” you said firmly. “I won’t—”

“You can,” he interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument, “and you will, my dear.” His smirk softened into something warmer, his voice quieter as he added, “You’re doing an incredible job—not just for my men but for everyone who comes to you. If not for yourself, then take it to help them.”

You looked down at the bag, then back at him, your throat tightening as the emotions you had kept at bay finally broke through. Tears welled in your eyes, spilling over before you could stop them.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “From the bottom of my heart.”

Marcus, sensing your discomfort at showing such vulnerability, simply nodded and looked away, giving you a moment to collect yourself.

Steeling yourself, you poured some of the oil onto the gauze and began to gently apply it to his bruises. Your touch was soft but deliberate, your movements careful as you worked. The warmth of the oil seeped into his skin, its soothing scent filling the space between you.

As you finished and prepared the bandages, Marcus watched you with quiet fascination. He hadn’t expected to find someone like you in a place like this—someone who treated others with such care and dignity, no matter their station. He couldn’t help but admire you. There was a quiet strength in everything you did, a resilience that didn’t demand attention but couldn’t be ignored. Yet, alongside that strength, you carried a gentleness that was rare in a world like his—a softness that didn’t falter, even under the weight of the pain and chaos you confronted daily.

“I want this oil to be gone in three days,” you said at last, your voice steadier now, though the lingering care in your eyes hadn’t wavered since he first saw you. “Every night, it should be applied.”

You looked at him then, something sterner flickering behind your gaze, and for a moment, he saw the fierce determination that lay beneath your calm exterior. “And please,” you continued, the words firm but kind, “do not overwork yourself. Those ribs need time to heal, and they won’t get it if you keep pushing yourself.”

He smiled at that, a quiet acknowledgment of your concern, and nodded. His eyes never left you as you worked, wrapping his torso with bandages. Despite the size of your hands, your touch was confident, and your movements were precise. To his surprise, when you finished, he found himself able to breathe a little easier.

“The dressing of broken ribs is crucial for your health,” you explained, as though anticipating the thoughts running through his mind. “Even if it hurts a little, it needs to be done tightly enough to provide support.”

You glanced up at him, your smile gentle but teasing. “My biggest concern was that one of the ribs might puncture your lung. And, well, no one wants that.”

He chuckled at the light humor, his chest rising and falling more easily than it had in days.

“I won’t waste your hard work on me,” he said sincerely, his voice warm with gratitude. There was something in his gaze—a softness, an intensity—that made your breath catch for just a moment.

You nodded, stepping back and surveying your work with a satisfied expression.

“Do you need help dressing?” you asked, tilting your head slightly.

Marcus moved his arms tentatively, testing the bandages’ hold. To his relief, the sharp pain had dulled significantly. “No, I think I’ve got it,” he replied, shaking his head with a small smile.

“Good,” you said, turning back to tidy your workspace. “I want to see you again in three days for an inspection.”

He pulled his tunic over his head, watching you as you worked, your movements fluid and purposeful. He couldn’t help but notice the care in even the smallest gestures—the way you arranged the jars, the precise manner in which you cleaned your tools. His gaze lingered, and a soft smile touched his lips when he realized how intently he was observing you.

You continued speaking without looking at him. “Of course, if you decide not to take my head before then.”

At that, Marcus frowned. But when you turned to him with a playful smirk, his confusion gave way to quiet laughter.

“And who would take care of my soldiers the way you do?” he replied, his tone gentle but sincere.

Your expression softened at his words, and you rolled your eyes in mock exasperation. “Three days, General,” you murmured, turning to leave.

As you disappeared into the hallway to check on your other patients, Marcus remained where he was, his mind lingering on the sound of your voice and the way you had looked at him—not as a general, but as a man. He was already counting the hours until he’d have an excuse to see you again.

#marcus acacius #marcus acacias x reader #marcus acacius smut #marcus acacius gladiator II #marcus acacius x you #gladiator 2 fic #gladiator #gladiator ii #gladiator 2 #marcus acacius fanfiction #marcus acacius fic #general marcus acacius #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal characters #pedrohub #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader

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soapoet · 2 years ago

Text

describing the dynamic...

...a requested continuation of this post.

like & rb if it resonates ♡

01.

Shufflemancy: First day of my life by Bright Eyes

This feels like home. It is familiar and it is sweet. The two of you create an air of comfort, which draws in various orphans of the storm. Like a safe haven amidst stormy seas. A lighthouse. This has the blueprint of starting a found family. Your union echos with lots of laughter, the kind that brings tears and stomachaches. The joy here is tangible and it is imprinted in everything. Your dynamic is like an evolved version of puppy love. It's nervous, but adoring. Giddy and rosy. It feels like best friends falling in love. They know you and you know them at a deep level. The foundation upon which this relationship stands could withstand hurricanes, though there isn't much to worry about. Most issues that crop up seem a little silly, and you may laugh about them afterwards. Personal doubts and misunderstandings are the worst that can happen here, which are mostly due to the doglike loyalty and care you have for one another. Ever seen the face of a pooch when they've done something they shouldn't have? They appear so sheepish even though their mistake or mischief really isn't all that bad or serious. We often laugh at our beloved pets when they appear so apologetic because it is so often wildly out of proportion for their actual crime. The same applies to this relationship. Doubts may occasionally become bigger in your heads and cause a similar out of proportion shame or guilt or concern about how the other will react. Many inside jokes may stem from these situations, actually. Despite the occasional and shortlived whirlwind of doubt and concern about the status of the relationship, your communication is very good and open and clear. You might both simply have a hard time expressing yourselves when it comes to negative feelings and experiences, likely stemming from your upbringing. Which brings me to the point of healing. A key feature of this relationship is just that. Healing. The two of you treat each other the way you wish you had been treated growing up. As though you are raising each other's wounded inner child in a much better, loving, and attentive environment. There is a lot of validation and tenderness present. The reciprocation is beautifully balanced. When one is feeling low, the other takes on a guardian role, comforting and supporting them in various ways. Need a doctor's appointment but you're too anxious to call? Your partner gotchu. Next time they're ill you'll be making them soup and wrapping them up in a blanket. The give and take feels natural, like neither of you need to think twice about it, and best of all: nobody's keeping score.

02.

Shufflemancy: High heels by Mando Diao

Once this one gets going, it's long distance, not a sprint. Considering the delays this relationship experiences before it begins, however, the steady movement doesn't feel slow at all. And although this relationship is very spontaneous and fun, there is a balancing act at play wherein plans for the future are made early on. They want to make sure you're both on the same page and have an idea of where the relationship is headed right from the start to avoid conflicting ideas later. There are some traditional elements to this relationship because they lead a busy life professionally. Plans may be made to have you stay at home once things get serious, though they are very supportive of any business ideas you come up with or already have when you enter into the relationship. This person values ambition and drive, probably just as much as you do, and is very supportive of any endeavours you decide to pursue, and is likely to help fund or network to boost your success.

Expect frequent date nights. This person enjoys romance and works hard to keep the spark alive, so long as they don't feel smothered. When given the space and time they love to shower you with gifts and make you feel special. Travelling also figures strongly, and you may cross many destinations off your bucket list with this person. They favour quality over quantity, though, and may make it a point to spend big bucks on a resort for an extended period of time to really make the most of the destination and the time you get to spend together. It's possible the two of you eventually purchase a second home somewhere you like to visit. The two of you enjoy a rich social life as well, and may frequently entertain people in your home or at different venues. Your energy is contagious and other people are naturally drawn to the two of you because of the fun and welcoming energy created by your union. I'm not seeing much in terms of issues, mostly because the element of fun is so strong here. It feels very balanced because each of you gets to be in your favoured energy and feel appreciated for what you bring to the relationship. Very strong mutual respect. Each of you seem to succeed in life and your careers and projects better because the other is by your side. Reaching higher and farther because of the support of the other. This has an air of'us against the world', as though you are building an empire together. Your success is very new-money and modern. Flashy and extravagant, but still down-to-earth and humble in a way in which you really count your blessings and have much gratitude for what you have together and where you came from. The two of you may help or give back to your community, or donate to charity. It's possible they pay off your family's mortgage or do some other big financial gesture towards your family after the two of you commit. There is a lot of passion in this relationship. Very flirty, and there is a strong sexual attraction. The two of you make each other laugh a lot and may pull pranks on each other. Check out Destene and Brandon on youtube, because their dynamic mirrors this group a lot!

03.

Shufflemancy: Mary on a cross by Ghost

This is the one that will feel like things are too good to be true. You will want for nothing. The dynamic here is almost that of a knight and the one they have sworn to protect, or the royal and the peasant they chose for love. There is much adoration here, and it feels old-timey in a way. If you have been kissing frogs before, this one will really surprise you. They enjoy traditional courting and may look down upon the modern era of dating and the attitudes surrounding it, and don't like most of the people making them offers. They also appear to compensate for time spent apart through lavish gifts, and making sure you have everything that you need. There are a lot of calls and messages being sent back and forth, especially during their time away. They're very supportive of your studies or the projects you're working on, and will do everything in their power to create a good environment for you to do what you need to do. There is a strong possibility of them asking you to accompany them on their business travels, in an effort to help the two of you spend more quality time together. You have an energy that differs so much from what they have to deal with in their professional life, and they derive a big boost of motivation and confidence from it. It is almost as though they see you as their lucky charm.

The primary cause of friction appears to come from outside the relationship. You may frequently receive strange looks when you're together, or the way you differ somehow causes tension amongst your partner's peers. They, however, are incredibly proud of you and encourage you to speak your mind and stay true to yourself. They think you're perfect and don't want you to change, especially not through pressure from the kinds of people they find shallow or even fake. There could be instances where people try to steal your partner, but they fail horribly because of your partner's devotion to you. This can also go the other way, wherein people begin to pursue you in an attempt to steal you away from your partner, as if to spite them. You may receive invitations, offers, and gifts from people, especially ones you meet through your partner. This reveals a jealous streak in your partner which is very prevalent, but not in a toxic or controlling way. Because they have such social grace and know how to play the game, they never target you with their jealousy and dismay, but those who try to get in between. They are protective of what's theirs, but are very graceful and strategic in their methodology of solving problems. This also lends itself well to any wrinkles that need ironing in the relationship, because they don't appear to get angry and have a mentality that it's not you vs. them, but the two of you vs. the problem.

This dynamic may sometimes lead to waking up alone, but there is sure to be a lovely note left behind, or they may send flowers. They like to let you sleep in, and find you to be at your most beautiful when you're asleep because of the serene look on your face. You really help them feel at peace, which is something quite difficult for them to achieve on their own. They have trouble relaxing or doing things without it somehow boosting their qualifications or adding to their resume. You help them pick out books to read just because, watch movies regardless of their acclaim and accolades, go thrifting for the fun of it or visit the sweet little side street boutiques and unknown cafés. They really just feel like they have access to more oxygen when you're around, as though they've spent their whole life holding their breath and they can breathe easily and deeply around you.

04.

Shufflemancy: Me the machine by Imogen Heap

There is a whole lot going on here mentally. The two of you spend a lot of time talking, for hours upon hours. "Is that the sun?" can become a frequent phrase used when time slips through your fingers as you talk the night away to watch the sunrise. The two of you love to debate, especially in regards to matters you agree on, because it seems you reach the same conclusion from different angles and enjoy discussing each other's detours. They love picking your brain and value your opinions. There is a bit of a hopeless romantic in them, which may catch you off guard every time due to their cerebral nature. They might leave you notes or share songs to express their feelings. To them you are an equal, a missing puzzle piece that helps them see the bigger picture. You two are like the seeker and the explorer. They like holding hands and being close to you, but seem a little hesitant, even months into the relationship. You are certainly the more open and affectionate one, whilst they tend to be a little shy. Their awkwardness is quite charming, though, because they do try their best to show their love and support. Support plays a big role here, too, as they have a lot to teach you in various areas of life and you will grow quite a bit during this relationship. They are an excellent mentor and encourage you to chase your dreams, but are also good at holding you accountable. They can be a little blunt and clumsy with their words, but they mean well and wish for you to be the best that you can be and never sell yourself short. They really won't let anybody talk down on you, least of all you yourself. They have very high standards so any self-loating on your part feels insulting to them. They wouldn't date you if they didn't think you were incredible.

They enjoy your company and express genuine interest in your thoughts and ideas. You share many interests and engaging in them together is a big part of this relationship. You two are stronger together and can face many hardships with greater ease due to how you complete one another. Not in that you aren't whole on your own, but that your individual strengths and weaknesses balance each other out. Where you lack, they're abundant, and vice versa. It really makes for a dynamic duo, albeit one that may from the outside appear mismatched or peculiar. That does not stop you, though, and they especially have very little care for what other people think. The two of you may collaborate on various projects, or work together towards both joint and separate goals. Your minds and talents blend beautifully together, and your relationship is potent with inspiration and motivation. Tackling difficult tasks and the daily grind appears easier when you can delegate things depending on your individual strengths. The source of strife mostly stems from misunderstandings. Both of you value communication, but on occasion words are left unsaid or too much is said without prior thought and one of you gets hurt. This does not seem to ever be on purpose, just accidental slip-ups and thoughtlessness.

05.

Shufflemancy: Boys do cry by Marius Bear

Which one of you brought the gasoline? The dynamic here is hot and heavy. Passionate, as though desperation and need is causing you to crawl into each other's skin and wear each other's hearts. It can get a little crazy, fast paced and wild, in most things that you do. And you may get into quite a bit of trouble together, too. When Billie Eilish said 'I'm the powder, you're the fuse; let's add some friction' the two of you were taking notes. There is a lot of push and pull, and the relationship contains a lot of drama. Though I don't feel like that is wholly unwelcome, strangely enough. It seems beneficial for the two of you to keep each other on your toes, like you both crave some explosive feelings to feel fulfilled. This relationship really isn't for the faint of heart. But whilst others watch in horror, you make each other feel alive in this almost feral dance. They are very protective of you, and you of them. It's like you give each other scary dog privilege because nobody else can swoop in to steal a heart while the other stands on watch. You're both a little possessive, but it boils down to the deep connection you have feeling so intertwined with the very cores of your beings that losing the other would feel like losing yourself. Definitely worth checking yourselves for co-dependency to be sure it does not go overboard, but so long as you keep your individuality intact, this one is one hell of a ride. A ride or die, in fact. You are truly partners in crime and feel dangerously powerful together, like you could take over the world and overcome anything.

I won't sugar coat this: there is a lot of turmoil that the both of you conjure up. Most of the issues in this dynamic stem from the heightened emotions you are both capable of, and if either of you start wielding them as weapons it will cause even more explosive emotions. I will say, though, that this only gets physical in the make up part of the show, as the actual strife is emotional and verbal in nature. Because you care a lot for each other, neither would dare lay a hand on the other. The thought of you getting hurt by them or anyone or anything else would upset them greatly, and it's the same in reverse. You mirror each other a lot, and have much to learn from each other. Much of it will feel heavy and burdensome since you will be facing your own demons within the other person, and that's never easy. Fortunately there is a lot of gentle care here, too. Since you both feel things so strongly and have similar experiences in life, it is much easier for you to sympathise with each other and support each other. This is one of those relationships where you truly do not need to hide or be on your best behaviour, because you have both weathered storms and do not easily flinch when the thunder and lightning begin to roar, and you both provide each other shelter when needed.

06.

Shufflemancy: Light by Sleeping at last

I remember seeing a writing prompt once upon a time with the premise of seeing in greyscale until you lock eyes with your soulmate, and this has that exact energy. It really seems as though this person lead a very monotonous life until you barged in, inviting the sunshine into their life. Because in many ways they view you as the light of their life, they are very protective of you. You bring them much joy, laughter, and relaxation, all things they do very little of, at least successfully, and find themselves more able to partake in the joys of life in your presence. You are a breath of fresh air, as though someone finally opened up a window inside a stuffy office. They see stars in your eyes and they want nothing more than to preserve them, and make them shine even brighter. There is a little bit of a saviour complex here. Anything you struggle with they don an armour for to protect and to serve. Because you nurture their soul and heal their wounds with your tender love and care and expand their horizons with your sense of wonder, they feel compelled to take care of you. It feels almost familial, but not in a weird way. It is as if they want to keep your childlike wonder alive and well, and right any wrongs that come your way. They take a load off your shoulders frequently, and may especially take on all your mundane tasks and paperwork. They love your playful energy and can see that the stuffy stressors of life cage that bird in, and they want to see you soar. This is a very healing connection for both of you. You balance each other out whilst being a mentor for each other, teaching each other your strengths so that you two can feel whole and capable all in your own right. You are both willing to bend, to try new things, allow the other to show you new worlds and explore possibilities. Very likely to lead to marriage, and it would be a very happy and functional one because of the growth you inspire in one another both as individuals and together as one. It's like your relationship begins as a little sapling, slow, but once it has been given the space to grow it grows big and strong and will withstand any storm and leave behind a legacy, like your future children putting up a swing for their children on the tree you two once sowed.

#pac reading #energy reading #pick a card #intuitive reading #love reading #love pac #pick a card reading #pick a pile #pick a picture #tarot reading #soapy.post #thank you to the lovely anon that suggested this ♡

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screamingcrows · 5 days ago

Text

Ceteris paribus - Dottore x reader

Note: Shhh this is a reupload of something I made at almost 2am... This is.. yeah, this is something that's for sure. It's my favourite thing I've written. I'll uhh spread Aspergillus niger in your home if you use this for ai or similar. Tags: Dottore x fem!reader, afab reader, nsft, plot with porn, angst, teyvat speculation if you squint (don't), 4.5k Ceteris paribus - 'if everything else remains the same' Minors DNI

Faintly glowing nilotpala lotuses floated like stars in the vast abyss of water, each one utterly insignificant to the lake but beautiful all the same. The sight you made among them had proclamations of divinity weighing on his tongue. Bathed in pale moonlight, your beauty was not something to be examined and explained, as much as the urge remained present, but rather a phenomena to simply enjoy.

Zandik found your form to hold his gaze hostage; not that he would willingly turn his head away even if he could. Glittering droplets gathered and trailed down your skin, mapping out a canvas of stars that he would soon enough pluck from your body and immortalize in the sky. Replacements would be needed after all, and what better substitute than something as beautiful as the natural patterns and grooves of the human body?

The Doctor had no use for dwelling on fear, for what is fear if not failure to understand. But Zandik? Oh, Zandik knew fear as a persistent companion. It resided between his lungs, and when it grew, he could hardly breathe

Standing by the edge of the dark pool of water, the thought of seeing it open up and swallow you whole wasn't too far-fetched. Already, countless leaves had drifted through the air and, upon touching the surface, been pulled under by some unseen force.

Or by curious fish.

Seeing you there alone made him wish for a heart that could flutter, hands already undoing the straps of his outfit despite earlier proclamations of only following to keep watch. What harm could there be in letting himself - letting you both - have one last certain indulgence?

There was a flicker of doubt in his mind. Would it be a more favourable outcome if you were to disappear into the abyss for that singular moment? Though every prediction and every piece of information that had been painstakingly gathered pointed towards the burning itself being harmless, there were always pesky variables and inevitable outliers.

Both part of the thrill and a curse, the world rarely operated precisely within the expectations of theory. True wisdom is doubting knowledge, inevitably linking back to harnessing a fear of the unknown.

Zandik had no doubt that he would survive both the torching and the resulting onslaught, but you? A mourning flower, watered by adversity and flourishing despite it, resilient to a fault and yet just as delicate and fleeting as all purely organic life.

There were many things he was happy to put to rest with the old world, but you would not become one.

His thoughts shifted with his position, body having gradually grown accustomed to the cool water that lapped around his ankles. He took a few tentative steps further into the lake, prodding before committing. The bottom sloped gently, but he knew better than to charge forward without examining different paths. A moment of tension as something passed between his calves was replaced with a frown upon seeing your amused expression.

Privacy was impossible with you, even if he was currently the one invading your swim.

"I thought you used to come here all the time," a scoff left his lips at your bubbly voice, warmth spreading to his ears, "has it been so long already that you've forgotten about all the dangerous creatures?"

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, his continued advance sending little waves through the water until he eventually lowered himself fully, relishing the familiar cradle of cool water swallowing his shoulders. In Snezhnaya, the water was ill equipped for any type of leisurely bathing. Aside from the obvious frozen state of the vast majority, it had a sharp quality to it, as though frost resided in each droplet, prepared to bite the minute it touched life.

"What a sharp tongue, careful it doesn't get you in trouble."

Maintaining the same air of superiority proved difficult when every stroke of his arms had water splashing, keenly aware of his tousled hair and the gradual increase in how much of it clung to his face. Seeing you barely suppressing a laugh, Zandik dove beneath the surface, body cutting through the darkness with practiced finesse.

It didn't exactly wash away the turmoil as part of him had dared to hope, but at least it was quiet with the constant press of water against his ears. Floating further ahead was your silhouette, the curvature of your legs outlined by what little light pierced through.

Getting close enough to touch, capture a priced catch, he surfaced again, relishing the spray of water from both his hair and your ensuing flailing. The change stung his eyes for a moment before he rubbed away lingering water, keeping the other arm wrapped firmly around your waist.

Always a skittish thing, it was a wonder you'd willingly chosen to stay so close. Not just chosen, he supposed, as you turned in his grasp and reached to wrap around his shoulders, allowing your warmth to seep into his mangled body, you'd insisted on staying against all reason.

Even now, with the false veil hanging by a thread and threatening to crush everything under the weight of its fall, you still steadied the hand holding the scissors. A small smile tugged at his lips, desire stirring to life when your plush legs wrapped themselves securely around his waist.

Even with his unnatural lifespan, Zandik had no experience that could compare to your palm cupping his scarred cheek.

Clearly aware of the effect, you seemingly took extra care to 'adjust' the positioning of your hips, intention so apparent that it only served to make his blood run a little hotter. Especially with how your ankles locked behind his back to squeeze him further. Clever little devil.

He couldn't help but purr in turn, lamenting the lack of leverage from being bereft of solid ground beneath his feet, "You are far too good," but that could be fixed, "maybe I should start calling you my little lotus?"

The tremble of your chest as you suppressed a giggle was nothing short of elating, palms continuing to languidly rub your sides. Even soaked, your natural scent still reached his nose upon nuzzling against the crook of your neck, crisp as Dawn's apples with an undertone of something a little heavier.

"And what brought this on?"

"Because," he pressed his lips to the nape of your neck, tightening his hold enough to hopefully make a point, "you've started to smell like them from bathing here every night," his lips parted in a grin at your mumbled proclamation of his status as a 'creep', "and most importantly, you're much like my personal little nilotpala lotus."

With a clear goal in mind (and ignoring your whined protests and delightfully flushed face) bringing you back to solid ground was no difficult task, not even with how you were draped around him. The towels and blanket you'd brought already neatly laid out where grass started to sprout, as though you'd been expecting this outcome from the beginning.

Perhaps he had grown somewhat predictable to you, the notion sending a foreign burst of warmth through him.

Your voice broke the comfortable silence, characteristic impatience for his antics shining through, "you're just not going to elaborate on the comparison?"

Still, you clung to him like some fragile animal, forcing him to carefully balance as he sat down, smirking a little at the perfectly presented opportunity to squeeze your rear in the process.

"And rob you of the joy of solving a mystery?" Zandik merely chuckled at the sting of your palm connecting with his chest, "I was only waiting for you to ask."

"But no long history lessons," your fingers spread out atop his chest, gently pushing him to lay back as if to dangle a reward for expediting the explanation.

"There are several reasons as to why the comparison is fitting," he lowered his voice, hands moving to caress your hips once he'd gotten comfortable on the makeshift pillow of clothes, "one of which being the direct similarity of your softness to that of its petals."

Zandik couldn't resist the urge to chuckle at how you rolled your eyes, a small pinch to your flank bringing your attention back.

It was impossible to resist the urge to gently chide, "Let me finish; but more than anything, they are, supposedly, a reminder from a bygone time. Every night they bloom in remembrance of their past before chaos erupted, yet they continue to persist in the present," a small roll of your hips had a pleasant tingle spread across his skin, "and, I do believe seeing you brings luck as well."

That earned a huff and a kiss.

The stars above came into focus when his head dropped back fully, the feeling of your slick folds rubbing against his hard dick freeing a sound of contentment from his chest. Always so good to him, your labia were already slick with arousal when a shuddering gasp left you. Zandik's eyes fluttered open too late to catch your expression, determination fueling the exact repeat of the motion, dragging you along until your nub caught against the head of his swollen member and your lips parted around a sigh.

You molded so perfectly against him, thighs splayed across his hipbones, his fingers sinking into the meat of your rear with perfect resistance, your walls practically trying to suck him in. Oh he needed so much more, to taste your essence, take you apart and let you do the same. He needed the weight of your breast in his palm and the softness of your lips contrasting his.

Plans and ideas swirled with ferocity, his own breath growing heavier and the sky practically spinning above, he'd barely noticed the frenzy with which he dragged your hips back and forth. A choked moan reached his ears, a sweet cacophony of your voice and his, mixing when determination set your eyes ablaze and a greedy jerk of your hips had your hole stretch around his gorged tip.

Despite having indulged far more over the years than his schedule should have allowed, the tight fit never failed to steal the air from his lungs. Now, it seemed you'd stolen the ability to breathe itself. White static danced in the corners of his eyes, sharp teeth digging into his own lip to stall the release that threatened to crash over him.

In a rare show of mercy, you passed down the opportunity to gather dirt to blackmail him with later, your thumbs rubbing along his collarbones instead. The smile you wore was enchanting, tranquility soon following and drowning out his body's cries for release.

How had you managed to ruin a man already as damaged as he had been?

Determined not to let the inherent uncertainty of the future rush this, Zandik closed his eyes while slowly guiding you to be fully seated. The little mewls that vanished into the night deserved to be etched in stone and preserved for the eternity to come. When your hips rolled for the first time, smooth skin still a little wet as it dragged against his hips, it was nothing short of exquisite, unity of both the simplest and most complex character.

The definition of a meaningful connection had shifted from what brought resources and opportunity to something horrendously intangible over the years, the shift pinpointed to a single variable entering his life. A pesky thing, not entirely unlike an infection in how it seemed insistent on wrestling control of both body and mind.

Pleasure built steadily once you'd adjusted, clearly eager from how you'd barely given yourself a moment of respite before lifting yourself back up. Liquid fire spread anew through his veins with every brush of your fingertips, soft as laying in a bed of flowers on the first day of summer. It wouldn't be long before that might be feasible.

Like a man compelled, his fingers moved to tangle in your hair, feeling a smile tug at his lips when your hips stuttered - he would make a snarky comment about it tomorrow. Though the fantasy of your petulant expression and flushed cheeks had anticipation mix with pleasure, right now, the thought consuming the vast majority of his mind was far more primal in nature.

Lost to the present moment, Zandik finally allowed himself to assist your eager movements, occasionally peering into your hazy eyes with no regard for posterity. You were squeezing him perfectly, walls clamping around him whenever he would pull the slightest away.

"Easy darling, save your strength for tomorrow," he brought your wrist to his lips, sucking gently where veins ran just beneath the skin.

A slow thrust had your thighs tightening around his waist, back arching deliciously and inviting Zandik to push himself up, wrapping his lips around a soft breast. The sounds that spilled unabashedly from your lips were downright sinful in their purity.

It was only later, in the afterglow left behind, that he realized how much tension seemed to have left his body during the act, manifested instead as blooming marks on your hips and little bites along your neck. You were presumable caught in the same state of lightness if how your fingers flexed experimentally was any indication.

Caught in the shifting leaves, Zandik only noticed your words when they were accompanied by teeth nipping at his chest, surprised by the worry etched onto your expression. "Do you have faith in all our preparations?"

Understanding ran almost as deep as the bitterness that spread across his tongue, "Faith? What a preposterous notion for the occasion. I trust in myself, in our plans, and their inevitable success." he had to, "every possible variable above minuscule importance has been carefully monitored for centuries and accounted for."

He hated how, even with arrogance coating his words, you still squeezed his hand a little tighter. Still pressed your body a little closer to soothe.

It made his voice weaker, vulnerable almost, and he hated how far out of his control it was. "Destroying comes naturally, but what will happen when the thrones fall and the skies collapse has always eluded me. I dedicated myself to seeking beyond the limitations set by the rules of this world, I know the extent of possibility, but once that has been shattered? Once the rules I know exactly how to subvert have been-"

"We'll figure it out, together," your breath was the first sun of spring, "a new set of rules means plenty of tests to conduct. "

A rough chuckle left his lips, even while he could feel the tremble of your body, you attempted to brighten the horizon. Comparing you to a flower associated with the moon would be wrong, the light you spread was your own, not a reflection.

This was unbearable.

How long had it been? Half an hour? Forty minutes? It didn't matter, it was too long. Especially for something as routine as fetching him some damned materials from the storage room.

And not even the one at the other end of the palace! No, it was literally thirty-two steps from the doors to his laboratory to the storage room. At least with his own gait, and granted, he had a taller frame than most and wore heels but-

Again. It didn't matter.

And why was it so warm in the laboratory? He swore under his breath, if the ventilation had decided to stop working now he was going to strangle the last person who did maintenance. Dottore wiped a gloved hand across his brow, near growling at the realization that now he'd have to change them.

Why was everything falling apart? And of course it had to be today of all days.

"Do I have to do everything around here?"

The words felt rough in his throat, more of a snarl even to his own ears, but it had the desired effect, countless of heads rising from their work to peer at him.

It took exactly three beats of his mechanically enhanced heart for them to turn their gazes away, frustration bubbling in his throat. Who did they think they were to so blatantly ignore him?

Did they not understand the importance of their own work? Fools, all of them.

Dottore rolled his shoulders back and straightened up, making certain that his heels clicked obnoxiously against the hard stone floors during his patrol around the room.

All the researches looked more like they were stalling for time rather than working.

It was a plan in two steps. At least it was when boiled down to the most basic division.

The old world would burn. The Crimson Moon would supply the necessary spark, quite possibly eager to exact vengeance on the offending power that claimed her sisters. The branches they'd stolen for testing had been engulfed with a vigor not replicated by presenting the flames with any other material.

This world is a prison.

Glass crashed to the ground and was crushed under the steel toe of his boot. It was a redundant piece anyway. Production and research on Delusions had been halted a few months ago, stocks being enough to supply their troops and a decent amount in reserve.

This place is a prison.

Once the threads of fate had been severed, the remains of the Third Descender would be used to tether a new possibility. Insignificant by themselves, they would pose no threat, but with all seven in their hands, the oppressor could be stripped of their authority.

Dottore knew he had to get out, something he needed to do. It was important, but barely out of reach for his whirring mind. A segment, he needed a segment to delegate.

The light wasn't searing his eyes today, perhaps they'd finally been replaced with something less intrusive than the glaring whites.

There weren't any segments left.

They'd been set free. Just as they all would, no more tethers to a false cycle. No longer doomed to repeat the same stories, there would be nothing written on the pages that came after.

Just a few more tests.

Papers scattered with a flick of his wrist, clearing out space for the the leatherbound tome in his hands. Old drawings fell from between the pages, things Dottore hadn't seen in decades. Perhaps even longer.

How had they made it there?

Someone was screaming again. It took a moment for his mind to tune properly in to the sound, a pang of something coursing through him as his own voice rang through the room. Everything seemed to tremble beneath his wrath, even his hands were shaking.

The gloves were black leather, not dotted red with blood.

He hadn't slept for a week had he?

Resigned to the fate of needing to change his gloves anyway, rubbing at the stubble that grew on his chin was a necessary comfort. Just a little longer and all of his work would come to fruition.

Dottore could practically taste the sweetness of your lips. How he yearned to stand beside you and warm his hands by the fire.

Just a little longer and-

-maybe that imbecile of a subordinate would return with his supplies.

His head snapped up when something creaked. Despite several people milling about, it was eerily quiet.

Someone else should have already confirmed the concentration of the isolate, but with how dull everyone seemed as of late, it might be wise to asses it himself. He'd have to do a dilution series, and how many cuvettes would he need?

A curse left Dottore's lips at the same time his hands slammed onto the table. Those were in storage as well weren't they?

His eyes flickered around, pushing away the frustrating shadow in his periphery, a few more days and he'd have time to properly look at whatever had his mask malfunctioning.

The laboratory should be properly insulated, any outside interference was unwanted in a controlled environment such as this.

How many days were left before their plans would be set into motion was a blurred memory, something he would need to check soon.

Nothing seemed remiss in the little village, the sight of children playing with a single kite making your chest feel entirely too tight. The sun continued to shine, clothes already out to dry while the adults tended the gardens nearby. It might be more fitting to call them fields, there was little regard for private property these days, and sharing had proven far easier when the same people had aided in constructing homes for each other.

Flowers had started blooming as well, their scent a desperately needed change from the smoke that had choked the skies for weeks. With gravel crunching beneath your feet, the unease that coursed through your veins was momentarily stifled.

By all means, Teyvat was at peace.

Though you were on amicable terms with the inhabitants here, they still eyed you warily, with varying degrees of pity in their eyes whenever you came to trade. Zandik himself refrained entirely from going, and everyone seemed content to keep him out of sight. Most had come to understand that there was nothing malicious about your partner, but you couldn't blame them for not forgetting the past.

It was an agreeable arrangement, much better than either of you had dared to hope. A small cot in what remained of the forest in what had once been Sumeru, a peaceful existence with the sounds of nature providing the backdrop.

Pantalone had settled in the ruins of Liyue, Capitano had perished, Columbina disappeared with Arlecchino… Of all the harbingers, you were grateful for the fate that had been bestowed on your Zandik.

Even if-

A small hand tugging on your skirt nearly startled you, looking down to see an expression of concern etched onto the face of a young boy. With the skies clearing, his skin was already looking far healthier than last you saw him.

Several other children were huddled around the open space, all shuffling their feet nervously and evidently trying their best not to stare. With time, they'd hopefully forget what they'd seen and never again have to cower like this.

"I heard him last night," there was a fair bit of caution in his voice, and you tried to smile reassuringly over your thundering heart, "he went that way… I think…"

Your feet ached from making haste through the dense undergrowth, hands scratched up from the countless times you'd tripped on a loose stone or hidden root. It was ridiculous to get so worked up, he'd been the Second Harbinger, strength to go up against the divine, and he'd won.

Nothing out here would be any threat to him.

But he hadn't been home since yesterday, and that alone had spectral insects crawling beneath your skin and your heart threatening to flee your chest in hopes of finding him sooner. Would he come home this time?

Mindless swatting at mostly imaginary insects did nothing to dissipate the fog of anxiety that hung around you. The boy had confirmed your suspicion, unknowingly having pointed towards one of the old underground workshops.

It could be a coincidence of course. Zandik could be sitting bare-footed in a stream just a little further ahead, pulling in brightly colored axe marlins to supply your meals. He could have gotten so absorbed that he'd lost track of time and opted to camp outside rather than stumble through a dark forest.

You were fully aware that it was wishful thinking.

How many times you'd trudged this way was uncertain, fingers skimming the edges of stone that marked an upper corner of the facility. Signs had been put up where the ground had opened up into the complex to avoid anyone carelessly falling in. A knot formed in the pit of your stomach, the sounds of glass shattering reaching your ears from below.

Rubble was scattered in the hallways and opportunistic vines and roots had begun spilling into the vast network. The complex had been abandoned long before the final confrontation with Celestia, a time capsule from when Zandik himself stayed in Sumeru to conduct preliminary studies on the power of dreams and forbidden knowledge. From what you understood, it had served The Doctor and his pursuits well,

It made the air heavy with misplaced gratitude and relief.

Stone knocked against your back as you stumbled aside, startled a sharp pang followed by metallic clatter. Still with your heart in your throat, you staggered forward through the haze of tears clouding your vision.

"Why doesn't it work? It has to work. It should work. Everything is right. It's all correct- I just have to finish it- the deadline!" Another crash, the glass shards no sharper than his continued shouts, "There's so little time left I have to-"

Sparse sunlight filtered through and illuminated the ruins of what must have been a laboratory in its prime. You forced your lungs to work despite how every breath seared your throat. The tentative call of his name gave no result.

Zandik was hunched over a slanted desk, one wooden leg broken and threatening to give out. A few metallic tables were scattered around the room, two of them pushed against a wall as if to block out something. Every cupboard had been opened and the contents of several emptied onto the floor. How much was the work of Zandik, you wondered.

"Why won't anyone listen to me? Don't any of you know how to do your jobs properly? Get me those damn supplies or I'll-" two and a half vial clinked together with every restless knock of his fist against the table, "I'll tie a rope around your waist, throw you into the abyss, and dissect whatever I can pull back out!"

Another breath, hands trembling as they reached for him, fully anticipating the way his body jerked and twisted. It didn't make it any less upsetting.

Zandik sneered when your hands cupped stubbled cheeks, and for a moment you wondered if he'd bite like a rabid beast. You nearly choked on a sob at seeing the crudely folded paper that covered the top of his face, holes haphazardly torn to allow him to see. His hair was dirty and tangled, his clothes in no better state.

Soothing shushes left your lips in a steady stream, thumbs continuing to pet his skin and rub the dust from rubble away, thankful that the artificial lights were long broken. His shirt could be mended and washed.

"Zandik, I need you to-"

He howled like a wounded beast, thrashing when you pushed away his paper mask, "Don't you dare call me that! Useless- useless, you're all useless!"

Even disoriented, his grip was iron when his fingers locked around your arms. Tears were running down your cheeks, ignoring the blood that dripped from where his nails had pierced skin. Still, you refused to let go of his face.

"Zandik please.. look around you.. it's over, we- you did it.." his makeshift mask was easily pushed aside, "let's go home.. please?"

For a moment, the fog seemed to clear from his garnet eyes as they flickered back and forth, taking in the scenery anew. A shiver ran through him, hands letting up their grip on your arms in favour of gently feeling along them, confirming your existence.

Irminsul had burned and people's memories had been the price. None more affected than the man who'd held the torch.

It had yet to be determined what exactly had happened to Zandik, resources weren't abundant enough to prioritize anything but survival. And even if they were, he'd barely had a moment lucid enough to properly process your sobbed attempts at explanation.

Perhaps he hadn't been woven into the new tapestry of fate, or maybe his grandest achievement, his beloved eyes in time, had tethered him more firmly to the old threads rather than freeing him. More than once, his hands had held your head close to his chest, just as they did now, and shushed cries that he would never grasp the cause of.

"It will all get better my lotus," your heart already clenched, desperate cries begging to freeze time in place before he continued with his hushed words, "…just a little longer and we'll all be free…"

#tweaked this a bit- choked up doing it #the day I came up with this idea I really chose violence huh #il dottore x reader #dottore x reader #dottore x female reader #dottore x fem reader #il dottore x you #dottore x you #il dottore #dottore #cw nsft #fatui harbingers #fatui x reader #crow with a pen

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pascaloverx · 6 months ago

Text

Moonlight

Summary: You and Edward Cullen used to have a romantic relationship. But fate seemed not to believe in the possibility of a vampire and a potential she-wolf being together. Years after your separation, you return to Forks. Edward is committed to Bella Swan, and Jacob Black has his own pack. What happens when, upon your return, you begin to transform into a she-wolf and both Edward and Jacob seem eager to revisit the past with you?

Author's Note: The characters in this fanfic do not belong to me but to Stephenie Meyer and the Twilight universe. The story blends events that happened in the Twilight saga movies with invented ones. If you're enjoying the fanfic, please interact. This story will contain inappropriate language, a possible love triangle, scenes of violence, and romance. I would appreciate it if those who enjoy the fanfic could leave a comment and like (kudos). Engagement helps me know that there are still people reading. I hope you enjoy this chapter ❤

SEVEN NINE

EIGHT

Your eyes open slowly as you regain consciousness. You're in a hospital room, the first thing you notice. Your body seems to have no visible marks indicating you were in a car accident. It must have been strange explaining that to the medical staff, you assume. You feel better, though a slight headache still lingers. You notice the scent of several people in the air of your hospital room. You've had multiple visitors, it seems. One peculiar smell catches your attention—the scent of the feminine perfume you smelled on Edward before the accident. You get up, removing some of the wires connected to you. You wanted to be sure of something you suspected. As soon as you leave the hospital room, leaving behind the beeping hospital machines, you find yourself in an almost empty corridor. You walk to the hospital's waiting area, where those waiting to see a patient stay. When you arrive, you see exactly what you expected. Edward, Jacob, and a woman you can only assume is Bella. She is sitting between them, resting her head on Edward's shoulder.

"Y/N…" Jacob is the first to notice your presence. He looks worried as he quickly stands up to help you stay on your feet. You smile faintly at Jacob, relieved that he's there. You can only imagine how hard it would be to see Edward and his love together without Jacob's presence.

"I don't want to be rude, but without beating around the bush, I'd like you all to leave. Thanks for your concern, but none of you need to stay here." You're holding back tears as you say this, looking into the eyes of Edward, Bella, and Jacob.

"I'm not leaving you alone." Both Edward and Jacob say as they look at you, a bit indignant. You smile weakly but with a certain anger inside you.

"It might have seemed like a suggestion, but it was an ultimatum. Leave or I will take both of you out of here myself. I may be hurt, but I have enough strength to deal with both of you. Now, don't keep poor Bella waiting. Go." You say, looking seriously at Edward, and it seems that he and Jacob understand what's bothering you.

"I'll respect your wishes, for now. But I'll be back tomorrow; the doctor said it will probably be your discharge day, and I'll come to get you. My dad would kill me if I didn't take care of a member of my pack." Jacob speaks softly, as if he truly wants to respect your wishes. He kisses your forehead, then gives you a quick hug. Then, he leaves the hospital. Bella follows him. She's kind enough to notice that her presence isn't making things easier.

"I won't leave. I want to explain myself to you, my love." Edward says, looking at you as if you have no reason to be angry with him. You look at him with a certain anger but ignore him. You walk back to the room at a faster pace than recommended, feeling a bit dizzy when you enter. Fortunately, Edward doesn't follow you.

"Why do you make everything so complicated?" you say as you close the door and take a deep breath, initially intending to ask yourself. But you can sense that Edward, using his vampire abilities, has entered your hospital room.

"I wish I could simplify things. Make it clear that I am not the person you think I am being," Edward says, stepping through the window of your room. You continue looking at the door, perhaps out of fear of what you might feel when you turn to look into Cullen's eyes to talk.

"Vampires must have some hearing problem. I was extremely specific when I asked you to leave. Yet, you're still here. Why is it so difficult to listen to me, Mr. Cullen?" you say, somewhat angry and in a bad mood. The formal tone should indicate your lack of interest in having a discussion with Edward at the moment.

"Turning me away won’t work this time. I won’t make the same mistake twice. Yell at me, accuse me of being disloyal, hit me, but don’t try to make me leave," Edward says, as you feel him approaching while you keep your back turned to him. When his hands touch the exposed part of your back, you shiver. It’s impossible to control the immediate reflex of turning around to face him.

"Should I act like you, saying I want to be with you but secretly get involved with Jacob? That would be better, right? Is that what you want?" you say, looking into Edward's eyes. Part of you feels unjust for being so angry with him. After all, he’s betrayed Bella with you at least twice. But what right does he have to toy with you?

"I know I'm doing everything wrong. Hurting you; her, and everyone around us. Breakups are more complicated than they seem. My family still believes that she and I should be together. But I'm trying to show how important you are to me." He holds your face with both hands, making you let out a soft moan from the cold of his hands touching your warm skin.

"Maybe you shouldn’t break up with her. Our relationship might never really work out anyway. An unknown woman tried to kill me after you chose to hide from me that you were at a reconciliation dinner with your ex. Obviously, this is fate’s invisible hand saying enough." You realize what you must do while trying to convince yourself that saying goodbye to your relationship with Edward is the right choice.

"About that woman, you can be sure she'll pay for it. But I don't see how being with Bella would solve any of this mess." Edward moves even closer to you, almost as if he's going to kiss you. You shake your head, pushing the need for more contact with Edward from your mind, but your body still wants him near, that damn it.

"Do you know who that woman is? She seemed to have a personal issue with you…" The way Edward hesitates in telling you right away makes you suspicious.

"Victoria is a malevolent vampire whose boyfriend tried to harm Bella. This was early in my story with Bella. Victoria's boyfriend died because of us. This might have left her with a thirst for revenge." Edward says, and you let out a small laugh. You're in the hospital because Edward played the hero and saved his damsel in distress, which is just perfect.

"Is that why you want me around? So I can be the punching bag instead of your beloved Bella? After all, I heal faster than any human. Makes sense." You say, mocking the situation as if it's all just a joke. The funniest part is that it would indeed be the perfect scenario to ensure Bella doesn't get hurt. Making you, a lovesick fool, pay the price for something that isn't even your fault.

"I know you're hurt, but that accusation is unfounded. I've loved you for over five years. I would give my life, even if it's an immortal one, for you. You may belittle or not recognize that, but accusing me of using you is too much. Even if you don't believe that I'm committed to you, believe in my love." Edward says, pulling your face towards his. Before you can respond, he kisses you. With a deep intensity, as if declaring his feelings through the kiss.But you pull away from him after a few minutes. Your eyes already full of tears as you choke back the sobs that are caught in your throat.

"I can't believe you. Not entirely. I can't imagine for even a second that you've removed Bella from your mind, or your heart. One thing I know is that you love intensely, Edward Cullen. And for once, I need to protect myself. I don't want to be constantly wondering if your relationship with Bella is or will be greater than ours. I don't want to steal what's hers, and as much as it hurts to say this, at the moment, that's what you seem to be to me." You manage to hold back your tears until you admit that you feel Edward belongs to Bella. That seems to break something inside you. Edward also seems to feel the impact of your words.

"It's funny that you feel that way. Since you returned to this town, I feel like I’ve been nothing but yours. My existence seems to make more sense when I’m with you. But I don’t think my words will convince you not to push me out of your life for the thousandth time. And honestly, I think this only proves even more that you're more afraid of being mine than you admit." Edward says and then leaves, this time using the door. It’s almost impossible to say that what he told you didn’t affect you. And after all this, you still had to endure your doctor appearing in your hospital room minutes after Edward’s departure. You would like to be eager to leave the hospital and return to your life, but to be honest, your life is a mess, and even though you don’t want to admit it, you already miss Edward.

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gamergirl-niffler · 1 year ago

Note

Very very urgent emergency request! Just stumbled upon your blog after that fluffy Howl fic of yours; couldn't resist sticking around for more of your fantastic headcanons.

I recently experienced something truly awful a few days ago.. While enjoying a party with my friends, the atmosphere suddenly shifted, and I began feeling unwell. Since then, there's been a blank space in my memory. The following day, upon waking up in our shared apartment, I discovered that I must have experienced a sex*** abuse. I'm currently terrified, in pain, and enduring ongoing bleeding from my private area. Trust has become a challenge, and I'm overwhelmed, wishing I could just disappear. Unsure of what steps to take, I find myself reaching out for comfort of any, any kind.. May I humbly request comfort from Dabi, Bakugo, Enji, Todoroki, and Kaminari, along with their girlfriends, who have navigated similar challenges?

If this plea is too much, please feel free to disregard it. I deeply appreciate your writings, as they bring immense comfort to many.

Oh, my dear Anon...

I am so sorry to hear that something like this happened to you. I can only imagine what you feel right now.

Please, if you feel like you need to talk to someone, feel free to drop into my messages and let's chat a little!

I hope those headcanon will bring you at least a little bit of comfort.

Mha men & sexually abused s/o

Dabi

- Dabi is burning with anger. Of course he isn't mad at you, he is mad at the person who even dared to violate you this way.

- He should stay with you but he leaves. Of course he couldn't stay. Touya doesn't leave you because of the disgust or hate. No. He is going for a hunt! It doesn't matter if it's one or a few people... All police could find were few bodies burned beyond recognition.

- Touya returns to your shared apartment, sheds his coat and is all yours from now on. He doesn't speak a word about what happened unless you feel the need to talk about it. He won't press but will listen when you need to throw it all out.

- He knows some doctors that aren't sketchy but at the same time they won't call the police or anything like this.

- Even if you are scared, Touya pushes you to get checked. He of course stays with you to provide comfort and show you that you are safe with him. Touya knows you are suffering mentally but he doesn't want the physical suffering to continue if there is a way to stop/heal it.

- Back at home Touya stays near you. He wishes he could be glued to you but he understands you need some space.

- When you tell him you need any kind of closeness - he is there immediately, wrapping you in his embrace, holding you as close as possible.

- It takes you a bit of a time to open up to him. You tell him everything; and he listens to it without a word.

When you start to cry he just squeezes you harder until you calm down. Once this happens, Touya starts to tell you, "I'm sorry, doll. I am sorry I wasn't there to protect you but from now on... I will always be near. No one will ever hurt you again. I love you and I'll make sure to help you however I can."

- And he really does it. Since that unfortunate day, Touya does everything to make you feel safe and to help you heal; both mentally and physically.

He doesn't push your boundaries but helps you carefully move them as you heal and again open yourself up to him.

Touya never healed himself from his past so seeing you getting better even after such a scary situation makes this villain smile.

Bakugo

- He is pissed but he won't show it openly. You went through enough stress already and his anger wouldn't help someone in your position so he stops himself from yelling.

- Bakugo doesn't immediately push you to talk. He is more concerned about your health so his first step is to convince you to visit a proper specialist. He doesn't want you to be in pain or to suffer.

When you finally agree to visit the doctor, you are going there with your blond guard dog because Katsuki isn't leaving your side. He will even fight the doctor if it means staying by your side through the visit.

- Back at home, Bakugo is completely different than normal. He is calm and quiet around you.

- If he decides to give you a kiss, hug or simply get close to you he'll ask for your permission beforehand. Just to be sure you are comfortable with him and his touch.

- If you are on any medications he makes sure you take them, it's for your own good afterall.

- Katsuki makes sure to provide comfort in every way possible. He cooks or orders your favorite comfort food so the two of you can enjoy some tasty food together.

- When you feel comfortable enough to open up about what happened, Katsuki just pulls you into a tight hug. "It's okay now. You're safe and I'll make sure to get the bastard that hurt you. I'll make him pay."

- And he really does. Whenever you are asleep or busy with something, Bakugo is on his phone or computer, working his ass off to find the person that did it. He is going to make sure whoever did this will pay the appropriate price for hurting you.

- Whenever you need it, he is ready to hold you close while gently caressing your hair and back. He will talk even about the most silly thing just to see you smile just a little bit. Staying quiet is also something he is ready to do, spending time in silence isn't a problem for him.

Enji

- Enji isn't home very often so it's easy for you to hide it all and just choke yourself with this traumatizing experience.

- When he is actually back, he quickly notices the changes in your behavior. You were like a candle light; warm and happy and now? You resembled an extinguished candle... Cold and sad looking.

- It annoys him because he is really trying for you but suddenly you are all distanced for no reason! Not only in everyday life but also in bed.

- Enji finally confronts you, demanding answers from you! He is your lover, so how dare you ignore him?! Of course he is not gentle about it.

- As you reach your breaking point and admit to what happened at the party you went to, he is shocked that something like this happened to you.

- He is not a master of comfort so at the beginning he isn't sure what to do but in the end Enji pulls you into a tight hug. "Forgive me for being so harsh on you. I'll do better."

- This is a promise he actually keeps up with! Enji is trying his best to understand your needs and boundaries now.

- He pays more attention to you, building up the trust again to show you that you can still trust him and nothing has changed between the two of you.

- Enji loves to hold you close and just comfort you when you feel bad. He enjoys cuddling your smaller frame, making sure that you feel protected.

- If you think he will leave it just like that and do nothing about it you are really wrong. He is a Number One hero and whoever dares to hurt you, now has to deal with him. Enji uses all of his contacts and influence to find that bastard.

- He makes sure you are feeling safe and loved again.

Shoto

- Poor guy is deeply confused when one day you go completely quiet. He is worried if you made it home after the party.

- After receiving no information from you, Shoto goes to your place to check on you. Just to be sure you are okay.

- The state he found you in was heartbreaking. His beautiful girlfriend, his little ray of sunshine suddenly being in distress and bad mental shape.

- He approaches you carefully, asking questions to find out what happened.

- When you reveal what happened the night before, he is shocked. How could someone even do this to another person?

- Of course Shoto doesn't judge you. It was beyond your control and he understands but he slowly talks you into going to the right authorities.

- Shoto goes with you everywhere to make you feel good and safe. He won't allow anyone to get too close to you.

- Back at home he is mostly quiet, letting you decide if you feel like talking or doing anything together.

- When you tell him yes, Shoto is all over you. He wants you close to show you all the love he has for you.

- His favorite thing to do is to simply hold your hand. It gives him this feeling of intimacy and shows him you still trust him.

- Shoto's second favorite thing is holding you right before falling asleep. You look so cute and despite what happened, he is happy you are with him. "My love. I am so lucky to have you and I promise you that I won't let anyone hurt you ever again."

- Like every hero he won't let it slide. Shoto will make sure that whoever did this pays for your pain.

Kaminari

- When he finds out, he is terrified and blames himself for this. He had to go with you but a sudden shift in schedulge made him go to work while you went to the party.

- He really doesn't know what to do BUT he quickly gathers himself. You need him and he is there to serve.

- Just like others he accompanies you at the doctor and during the talk with authorities.

- Back at home Denki is really careful around you. Always asking if you need anything, making sure you are okay with stuff he does. He never leaves you alone unless you request him to do so.

- He buys your favorite snack and even tries to bake something you like. Even if he isn't the best at it, he'll try his best for you!

- You feel like watching some silly movie or show? He is there with you!

- Or maybe you feel like just laying down and listening to some music? This dude made a playlist from all your favorite songs!

- Denki is ready to do everything to make you comfortable. Your smile is the most beautiful thing in the world and he is going to work hard for it to appear again upon your pretty lips.

- Even if he blames himself for your harm, he'll never tell you about this but instead he will do EVERYTHING he can to make you feel good again. "We'll make it work, yeah? I won't leave your side and we are going to work through it together." He always assures you with a big bright smile.

- Whoever dared to put hands on you can't sleep peacefully. Kaminari, with the help of his friends, will hunt this bastard down and bring him to justice.

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mistydeyes · 2 years ago

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fake hypochondriac

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hypochondria

hy·po·chon·dria noun

excessive concern about one's health especially when accompanied by imagined physical ailments

summary: If an apple a day, keeps the doctor away then what keeps a pharmacist away? Whatever it is, Ghost wants to eradicate it. This man's small crush will send him to extremes. A sequel to "a panacea"

pairing: Ghost x pharmacist!Reader

warnings: medical/pharmacy terminology, medical inaccuracies, swearing, depiction of wounds, fluff, and flirting

a/n: by popular vote, ghost's sequel won! don't worry though, price's will be coming real soon ;)

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The unit had been a buzz about your work as a pharmacist officer. From clearing Gaz’s congestion to the ridiculous bandage you gave to Ghost, they simply would not stop talking about you. Soap even tried to convince the doctor that he needed to visit you for a malady of reasons but your colleagues were smarter than that. You had to give it to him, the fake food coloring blood applied to his stitches was a nice touch. It became a running joke in the medical wing. Some of your closest work friends even gushed about how the men would talk about you as if you had discovered the secrets to eternal life.

All joking aside, in all your years here, people had called you pet names and made small attempts at flirting but you always had your main goal on your mind: provide the best care so they can stop bothering me. However, one man caught your eye. No one would ever know that the masked man who wore a star bandaid was the one who stole your heart.

Of course, you’d never want anyone to have to constantly come visit you on the pretense of needing medication but you valued the time spent with him. Somehow he ended up needing every single vaccination. From pneumococcal to typhoid, you wondered if you should tell him that these were all voluntary.

Little did you know, he made every effort to miss the optional clinics and went straight to you upon his return. Your soft touch and even softer laugh were like music to his ears. He didn’t know how many people were graced by your presence like this but he tried to make himself the most memorable one.

His younger self would have laughed at his antics. His mother used to say an apple a day keeps the doctor away. Even though you weren’t a doctor, he would cut down every apple tree and burn every pie if it meant seeing you daily.

One day, Soap gave him an idea. The team was ending another debriefing with Laswell and making conversation as they left the room. “I wish I could visit the lass but all she does is either give me my meds or gives her whatever you call recommendations” Soap groaned as he lugged the large number of building layouts and files in his arms.

“Pharmacological and non-pharm recommendations, Sergeant” Price corrected. “You better learn their terminology, they didn’t go to school and experience those muppets at the local chemist’s for nothing.”

That was it, Ghost would ask you for some silly non-pharm recommendation like Gaz had and keep coming up with new ailments to keep visiting you.

The plan was in place, following the lunch rush he walked to the medical wing and made his way to the pharmacy.

You stood in the back, answering yet another phone call from a doctor. “As I said before, you need to find out what their reaction is to penicillin and other beta-lactams. I don’t care if they say they have a true allergy, you know anaphylaxis is the only indicator. And no, I’m not ordering something off the formulary just because your patient says they were sneezing after a bout of amoxicillin. Just call me back after you spoke to them and if you really need it, then you know where to reach me.” With that, you slammed the phone down and let out a groan. You knew pharmacology was no doctor's favorite subject but this was antibiotics 101.

Your technician came around the corner, “Captain L/N, is everything alright?”

“You know we’ve been working together for what 2 years now? I’m just Y/N especially back here in this phone call hell.” you laughed as you sat down in your chair. “I’m alright, just another medic trying to get me to order something off the formulary for kicks”

“Well Y/N, there is someone here to see you. Just a soldier complaining of a sore throat. He says the doctors won’t prescribe anything because they haven’t observed anything wrong.” Your tech responded before disappearing amongst the shelves to fill some incoming scripts.

You made your way to the front where you were surprised to see Lt. Riley wearing a face mask (although still with the ghost print). Even though he had been coming for months now, live vaccines had to be spaced out by 28 days, you had not seen his face fully. His eyes were trained down and you noted his surprisingly light eyelashes. He still had the ever-present eye black and you wondered how he kept his lashes so pristine. If it was a mascara or a brand of makeup remover you needed to know!

“Simon,” you spoke in a cheerful voice. By now, you were on a first-name basis. It only took one tuberculosis skin test for him to encourage you to call him by his name. To be fair, when you held his arm gently to measure the area he would’ve told you anything.

“You aren’t due for any vaccinations you know. You’ve cleared me out! I’m sure the doctors would think I’m sticking you for my pleasure and your pain.” you joked. You were teasing but you knew there was no way he was here for yet another immunization.

“Not this time, love. I’ve got this tickle in my throat. It hurts when I swallow and I swear Soap saw my tonsils angry and inflamed,” he replied.

“And the doctor didn’t diagnose you with bronchitis or call for your tonsils to be removed?” you questioned. It wasn’t unusual for them to miss anything but you were realistically unable to prescribe anything to him.

“Well let me take a look. If you want to head over to the vaccination area then you can take your mask off. I’m sure you are familiar with where it is.” With that, he nodded and walked toward the designated area. He appreciated your kindness and that you valued his privacy.

You let your technician know where you’d be and they waved you off saying they could handle the onslaught of soldiers if it came to it.

As you entered the corned-off area, you saw Simon there, fiddling with his mask. You didn’t understand why he was so nervous, how could someone so well acquainted with violence be nervous of a flashlight and quick examination?

“Don’t worry, I’ll sure to be quick. I just need you to remove your mask and open up wide,” you explained and fished in your pocket for your pen light. To any recruit, they would’ve made a cheeky comment to your command but Simon obliged to your ask.

As he lowered your mask, you couldn’t help but admire the man in front of you. He was gorgeous. He looked like he was carved from a model like some Greek deity. His face was adorned by various silvery scars that looked painted on a portrait with metallic paint. His jawline was sharp and his lips were blush pink with an even sharper cupid’s bow. You made sure not to ogle for too long and began your assessment.

As you pointed your flashlight, you examined his throat and tonsils, trying to find if the doctor had missed anything. But when you saw no redness and his lymph nodes weren’t swollen, you didn’t know what to say.

“Hm, well good news and I guess bad news but I’m not seeing anything here. I’m not sure what to tell you but I wish I could help” you said in a defeated tone. You looked saddened by your lack of discovery and this made Simon want to scratch his whole plan.

“But,” you began, as he put on his mask, “my grandparents would always say ‘Y/N, all you need is to get some good rest and have a cup of tea with lemon’” you explained, trying your best to impersonate your best old person voice. Simon chuckled at your attempt. God, you really knew how to brighten someone’s day, and who could not love your sweet, grave voice?

“Sorry to take your time, love, but I’ll be sure to let you know,” he said and stood up before giving you a thankful look.

“The pleasure is all mine, Simon. I try to do what I can for one of my favorite patients,” you replied. You were laying on the flirting hard, something you would lie in bed cringing about later.

With that, he walked out of your little bubble and went about his day. You watched his muscular ass figure exit as you too returned to your day.

Although you thought you had cured him with some good advice, you were visited every other day for the next few weeks as he still had the same complaint. You had recommended everything following each checkup. From spoonfuls of honey and thyme lollies to encouraging hot showers and steam therapy, you were out of options. By what seemed like his 10th visit, you were prepared to march him down to radiology and make sure that this wasn’t some terrible looming illness.

“Still having that sore throat, huh?” you questioned as he walked through your doorway. He nodded in agreement and you picked up the landline. “I’m making a quick call, we’ll get this sorted out.”

“Hi, this is Captain. L/N. I have Lt. Riley here and he has been complaining of a sore throat for weeks. Is there any way the lab could run a throat culture as well as some blood work for me?”

And that’s how Simon ended up in the doctor’s office with a cotton swab down his throat and multiple needle pricks to his veins. He should’ve picked something more benign like reoccurring IBS but then again he might have ended up with a finger up his ass instead of the swab.

Two days later, you received a notification that the results were in. To your dismay, the results showed nothing. The swab was negative for every infection and his blood cell counts were all within normal range.

Frustrated, you told your tech you’d be back and walked your way to Cpt. Price’s office.

You knocked on the closed door hoping not to disturb the man. His baritone voice echoed into the hallway as he told you to enter.

“Hi Captain, sorry to bother you,” you said noting the mountain of paperwork on his desk as well as his extinguished pile of cigars. “But I was wondering if you had noticed anyone else in your unit with a sore throat. Lt. Riley has been coming to the pharmacy for a few weeks now and no one can figure it out.”

“Not that I know of. We haven’t run drills either so I know our quiet Ghost isn’t necessarily screaming at the recruits. He hasn’t come to me either with any complaints,” he explained and leaned back in his chair. He knew that Ghost was wasting your resources so he decided to let you in on a secret.

“As their commanding officer, you know I highly value the word of my men. But I do remember during my school days, that boys would tend to lie about an illness just to get sent to the infirmary and eventually home,” he explained. “It’s no secret that some soldiers, even Ghost, show a fondness for you.”

You blushed at his response, you couldn’t imagine that of all people, the stoic Ghost had a schoolboy crush on you. Hell, you hated your school nurse and always dreaded going to the doctor. You went days before telling your mom that you might have broken your finger during recess (you can still remember her rushing to the emergency room the minute she saw your bruised and puffy finger).

“I’ll talk to him the next time he comes in, which I hope he doesn’t,” you said, “thanks for the advice. And don’t forget, I always have a pack of nicotine gum for you if you ever decide to quit.” He chuckled and politely shooed you away. As you shut the door, you shook your head as you heard a lighter flick and smelled the familiar scent of a cigar.

Right on schedule, Simon came strolling into the pharmacy. You had just finished chatting with Soap and chastised him for yet another antibiotic prescription. This time it was for an infected foot wound after forgetting to change his socks and wading in still, grimy water during a mission.

As Soap gave you a cheeky smile saying he’d be back, Ghost tried to suppress his jealousy. Why did Soap have to be blessed with a purulent foot wound instead of him? Maybe he’ll try that one next.

“Ah Simon, I’m heading out to lunch if you’d like to join. I’m presuming it’s still the throat issue so I can check it out after.” You said and reached into the fridge under the counter to grab your food.

You made sure to lock up the pharmacy and lower the protective barriers, you couldn’t let anyone access the “good stuff.” Your tech said their goodbyes as they went to the mess hall for some warm food.

It was the dead of summer but today was surprisingly balmy. You knew there were some tables outside so you pushed the exit door and sat down on one side. He sat opposite you as you opened up your salad and half sandwich.

“So, can I tell your story?” you said before taking a bite. He nodded watching you intently.

“There was a time I broke my finger during recess and didn’t tell my mom for the next 3 days. You should’ve seen her face when I revealed my oozing, bruised ring finger. The thought of missing school and recess was devastating so I hid it like a child.” you explained and held up your left hand showing how your ring finger was slightly askew compared to the others. He laughed heartily, which made you also laugh in return.

After wiping some tears from your eyes you went on, “And that’s why my mom was so shocked when I got my MPharm. She always tells my dad that she doesn’t understand how someone so adverse to doctors went into healthcare.”

“We all have our weird obsessions, plus you are a natural,” he said and was almost at a loss for words as you smiled back at him, the sun hitting perfectly on your face and dancing in your hair.

“Anyways, I told Captain Price that story and he had such a different experience. He said that as a young lad, he and his mates would do anything it would take to get into the infirmary and home. I couldn't believe kids were so smart and had the forethought to plan something like that!”

Ghost knew where this was going. He also received notification that the tests came back clear of any illness. He knew the jig was up but couldn’t run away from the confrontation.

“Now, I’m not debunking your mystery illness, Simon. But I just wanted to talk to you privately and ask if there was anything else that you haven’t told me?” You asked and knew you had got him hook, line, and sinker. His eyes glancing around and his sweaty palms were confirmation of your theory.

He took a few moments to answer and you both sat in silence. You finished the remainder of your food and wiped your hands neatly as he stroke the back of his neck in embarrassment.

“I guess I was just finding an excuse to talk to you,” he began to explain and you could see his extremities begin to grow flush. “I, uh, didn’t know how to so once I ran out of excuses with the shots, I decided to fake a sore throat,” he sheepishly replied.

With his confession, you couldn’t help but laugh. And laugh you did. Hard. It took you a minute before returning your composure.

“You know that the other soldiers can just have a regular conversation with me. I don’t bite and I swear I’ve talked Gaz’s ears off about pollen and flowers. I just feel bad now for making you undergo all those tests,” you said gently placing your hand on top of his.

“I do see what you mean though. If I had a doctor as handsome as you, I would have every illness, injury, and question under the sun.” You couldn’t leave him thinking you didn’t reciprocate your feelings. With that, it was your turn to blush.

“It’s rather childish isn’t it?” He said as he gently caressed your other free hand. “Sorry for wasting your time.”

“How about you make it up to me with dinner? I can show you that there’s more than just textbook knowledge to me” you offered, “I know a surprising amount about languages, I can flirt with you in 10 different ones.”

“It’s a date, gorgeous. I’m all ears for anything you have to say,” he said and you both looked like lovesick teens, “As long as you keep this a secret. You know the doctors would never believe me if I actually got sick.”

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

After months of dating, you revealed a secret. “After I spoke to Price, I had a suspicion to check your medical record. You know I could see you never went to the doctor right? You never logged any visits for your alleged sore throat.” You said jokingly and lightly punched his shoulder. “I just can’t believe you roped everyone into it. I can have a normal conversation, babe.”

He laughed at your reveal and kissed the top of your forehead. “I just wanted to make sure your university course load prepared you for anything.”

#task force 141 x reader #task force 141 #cod x reader #call of duty modern warfare #cod mwii #modern warfare 2 #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #call of duty #mw2 imagine #madebyizzie #mw2 #pharmacist! series #izzie is writing

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emeritus-fuckers · 5 months ago

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Hi! Long time enjoyer of the beautiful works you and your friends write! I recently had to have my leg amputated and once I'm fully healed I'll be getting a prosthetic. I was wondering how the Papas and Sister would react to a s/o who had to have their leg amputated and gets a prosthetic once they've healed? Thank you in advance and keep up the great work! 😊🖤

Papas, Sister Imperator and Delta with an amputee darling

Primo (he/him)

Incredibly supportive the entire time.

He even offers to push your wheelchair while you heal after the amputation.

He learns from the doctors and nurses on how to take care of you properly.

Offers you one of his favorite canes for when you have to re-learn how to walk with your new prosthetic.

He is very patient with you. He knows it's stressful for you.

He'll be with you on your every physical therapy. He encourages you to keep trying, as hard as it might be.

He's very proud of you. And you will know it.

Secondo (he/him)

If you think this man doesn't speedrun courses on how to best assist and take care of you, you don't know this man at all.

He's your nurse now. He expertly helps you with physical therapy.

Gets you regular check-ups and personally drives you there.

If you get too tired, he'll carry you. Yes, you have a wheelchair, but aren't his arms just better?

He gets you the most expensive prosthetic he can find.

A few of them, even.

He paints them however you wish. He's a good painter.

Terzo (he/they)

He hasn’t left your side since the beginning of this journey.

They’re well aware that this is a change that will have major effects on you and possibly your mental health. He’s already got the best physical and mental therapists on standby to help with your every need.

They stay by your side until you’re taken for surgery and is the first thing you see upon waking up. Especially since he crawled in the bed with you.

He brought Alpha and Omega with him to help get you back out of the hospital. The ghouls are gentle and they justified Alpha by pointing out heat helps with being sore.

They get you transportation wherever you need to go, but insists on being the only one to push your wheelchair when you aren’t up for walking.

Terzo also took it upon himself to help you fully customize your chair, prosthetic, crutches and whatever other mobility aids you require.

They also ensure you get plenty of time with him, relaxing in his room and being showered in affection and love.

Copia (he/him)

While you are healing he finds the most adorable rat printed bandages to cover the normal medical ones.

He'll look after you, everything you need. He doesn't want you to do anything that would be uncomfortable for you. He doesn't mind he is really happy to be able to do this for you as you bring so much joy to his life.

You end up cuddled on the sofa with Copia playing video games with the rats being as comforting as possible too.

He is your biggest supporter by far, he is always there when you need him.

While you are learning to walk with the prosthetic he'll happily accompany you.

He looked at you sheepishly as a rat's head poked out of your pocket and a few jump up on his shoulder. He explained that they wanted to come too and help, but only if you don't mind.

He also offers to drive you anywhere you want while you are healing. He offers to take you to the beach house. It's perfect for resting and enjoying a good view and there are some really nice walks nearby for when you are feeling up to it. He'll happily push you in a wheelchair around them until that time.

Old Papa Nihil (he/him)

He's very tender and supportive. We all know what old Nihil can be like, but he really steps up to the mark for you.

Even though he is getting older he is still very strong, so he insists on carrying you out to the garden on a nice day. You two sit and enjoy the sun.

He does have some limitations with his age but he makes sure to find the best doctors and nurses he can to look after you.

He goes with you to physical therapy and if you want he'll join in to keep you company.

You often get the giggles at the old man noises that come out of him on some of the exercises.

He keeps you company while you heal and brings you whatever you need.

He is very good at helping you pass the time, he's had practice when his own health has been bad.

Young Papa Nihil (he/him)

He is 100% there for you, even if he is a little unsure how to be.

He goes and finds advice on how to help as he doesn't want to get it wrong.

He is very good at taking your mind off things, he thinks of fun things to do at all stages of your healing. Things that are within your capabilities at that time.

He is so proud of you and how you push through it. He admits, if it was him, he wouldn't handle it so well.

He'll help you learn to walk on the prosthetic. He finds the perfect place for you to get your strenght back once you are up to walking short distances.

The park at dusk, he knows a way to sneak in even though it shuts then. He used to go there to get high but he much prefers walking with you.

No one else is around, and the park is beautiful in the soft orange and pink light. He knows a spot that has a good view of the sunset and you take a break sitting on the bench and watch, his arms wrapped around you keeping out the early evening chill.

Young Sister Imperator (she/her)

She makes sure you have the best available professionals take care of you.

She might not always be available, but she has at least one Ghoulette taking care of you at all times.

The Ghoulette is tasked with documenting everything about your amputation, physical therapy and all the doctor visits.

While she may not have much free time, Imperator does a lot of research on the subject and speaks to all the doctors whenever she can.

She manages to get some time off around the time of the procedure so she can support you.

She keeps you on a very strict schedule when it comes to physical therapy, but you know she means well.

She does a lot of research before you two pick a perfect prosthetic.

Old Sister Imperator (she/her)

She does so much research she could practically be a doctor, a nurse and a physical therapist at this point.

Her Ghoulettes are all expected to go through training to help you as well.

She knows so much she could probably lecture the doctors. If it wasn't for the fact that she researched them, as well. She knows they are the absolute best at what they do.

She makes sure to get time off around the big day, as well as the first two weeks of your physical therapy.

She makes a small joke about how you'll be running around with your prosthetic just as she runs in her favorite red heels.

She will stay by your side whenever it gets rough, letting you talk about everything you feel.

She'll provide you as much comfort as she can.

Delta (they/it)

Delta being the Ministry’s most unfortunate element transition has lots of knowledge on going through amputation.

They answer any and all questions you have before the procedure, promising to help however it can in your recovery.

When you wake up, they’re waiting by your bed with a huge bouquet of flowers and your favourite food. According to them all amazing patients deserve a treat.

When you begin therapy to work up to getting the prosthetic, they do the exercises with you. Kinda taking over the job of the physical therapist since it knows these exercises.

Actually…they kinda replace a lot of professional help. Since they’re a professional through lived experience.

They help you learn to do the bandages properly. When you get your prosthetic they do their best to assist with putting it on, taking it off, cleaning all the different parts, balance and more.

Kinda worked in your favour having a double amputee by your side. It can really help with both your physical and mental health, having someone like them so close to you right now.

Papas I, II and Sister Imperator written by Nosferatu.

Papa III and Delta written by Death.

Papas IV and Nihil written by Nyx.

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bullet-prooflove · 9 months ago

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All About You: Dean Archer x Reader (NSFW)

Tagging: @kmc1989 @mandy426 @helsinkibaby @hufflepuffgirl

Dean doesn’t do this. He doesn’t fuck in storage closets in the hospital where he works. He leaves that to med students who've seen too many reruns of Grey’s Anatomy. However right here, right now he just can’t help himself because it’s been a few days since he last saw his wife and he’s been needing to blow off a little steam.

Your hands are in his scrubs, bypassing his underwear, fingers wrapping around his hard cock. He’s leaking already, moaning into your mouth as your thumb spreads it across the tip of his dick.

Your lips take a detour, kissing a heated trail along his jaw until you find that spot, that deviant space just under the hinge of his jaw that makes him thrust into your hand as he says your name.

“Don’t you dare make me come in my pants...” He mutters, his words cut off as you bite down just a little, making his hips jump.

He feels your smile against his skin before you kiss lower, lips brushing over his neck, his chest, his collarbone before you sink to your knees in front of him, pulling his scrubs down along with you.

“That isn’t what I meant...” He tries to chide you but your lips are already enveloping his cock, your tongue teasing over the head causing his breath to hitch.

Christ you feel good, he’s almost forgotten what it’s like to be loved by you.

His fingers gently pull the hair tie from your hair, allowing it to fall across your features and something just clicks, you’re not the M.E anymore. You’re his wife, the one that he’s barely seen in almost a week.

You take him deeper as his fingers tangle in your hair, his head tipping back against the wall. He won’t last long, not after all this time apart. He can feel that tingle of ecstasy at the base of his spine as your palms come to rest on his hips, pinning them to the wall.

He will never admit it to anyone else but he loves when you force his pleasure, when you coax it out of him. It’s hard for him to get his head out of work, to forget the responsibility that comes with being Head of the E.D. This is the only way to do it sometimes, to remind him he’s Dean, not Doctor Archer.

“Sweetheart.” He warns you as the rapture tears through his synapses like an IED, stealing away every inch of his sanity.

All he can focus on is you in that moment, the hot, tight sensation of your mouth as he spills his release down your throat. He tries to catch his breath as you draw away, your hands lightly guiding his scrubs back up his hips before you tuck him back in.

“You’ve been stressed lately.” You say by way of explanation. “It’s not good for you.”

“You can just say that you missed me .” He says with a knowing look.

“I thought showing you was a better use of our very limited time together.” You tell him as his watch goes off, signifying the end of his break. He sighs as his hands come to rest on your waist drawing you against him. Your perfume floods his nervous system, the sensual scent of rosewater washing through his senses as he breathes you in.

“I wish I could return the favour.” He says regretfully, his fingertips teasing over the elastic of your own scrubs. “Because I really would like to.”

“I know.” You tell him, your palms coming to rest on his chest. “But…”

“Tonight.” He says, his forehead coming to rest upon yours as he clasps your hand to his heart. “I’ll grab takeout on the way home, run a bath, I can use that massage oil that you like…”

“That sounds like heaven.” You say and he can tell from the look in your eyes that he’s not the only one that needs a break. The past week has been gruelling for the both of you. He should have checked in more, he thinks, made himself more available.

“Tonight is gonna be all about you.” He promises as his watch goes off again, signalling he’s needed elsewhere. “I’ll make sure if it.”

#dean archer #dean archer x reader #dean archer x you #steven weber #one chicago #chicago med

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riddlerosehearts · 2 years ago

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list of acd canon sherlock holmes things i absolutely love

(and am going to mostly put under a readmore because i made most of this list while rereading the entire canon so it is very long! listen i just think sherlock holmes is the best character ever and i need to share my love for him--)

immediately upon being introduced to watson he grabs him by the sleeve, starts excitedly showing off his bloodstain testing experiment, and claps his hands “looking as delighted as a child with a new toy”. once he finishes, his eyes glitter and he puts his hand on his heart and bows “as if to some applauding crowd conjured up by his imagination”.

watson: “i object to rows because my nerves are shaken”

holmes: “do you include violin playing in your category of rows?” he asked, anxiously

he’s noted to be extraordinarily knowledgeable and zealous in his studies, and yet on the same page it’s stated that he doesn’t know the earth travels around the sun and once watson tells him about it he immediately decides to forget about it because it’s not relevant to his work. this is where the famous “brain attic” monologue comes in.

watson writes this list about him and then throws it into the fire in despair:

has a habit of laughing in a way that’s described as bursting into an “explosion” or “roar” of laughter

frequently does this at crime scenes:

enlists a gang of street orphans to help him on his cases, pays them for their work, and generally treats them as equals but also playfully talks to them like a general to his soldiers

plays the violin for watson to help him get to sleep

is incredibly knowledgable on anything from different types of tobacco, to the ways one's trade can influence the form of their hands, to medieval pottery and stradivarus violins. and yet, i reiterate, does not know the earth revolves around the sun.

has a tendency of waxing poetic about the meaningless of existence, particularly when he’s bored from not having any cases to work on

once said about a dog “i would rather have toby’s help than that of the whole detective force of london”

used the word “doggy” when speaking to toby

once told watson “i don’t wish to be theatrical” despite all evidence to the contrary

disguises himself as an old man just to play a prank on watson

watson: “i think i had better go”

holmes: “not at all, doctor. stay where you are. i am lost without my boswell.”

is known to wiggle in his chair when he gets excited about a case

discovers that a man has tricked his own stepdaughter into a fake marriage so he can keep her at home and control her life and inheritance. acknowledges that said man hasn’t done anything illegal but still tells him “there never was a man who deserved punishment more” and that he ought to get whipped for what he did, and then goes to actually get his hunting crop, causing the man to run out the door at top speed

let a criminal go free because it turned out the man he murdered was trying to force said criminal’s daughter into an unwanted marriage

was suddenly made to participate in the wedding of someone he was tracking for a case, came home and laughed about it for several minutes, exclaimed “well, really!”, laughed for several more minutes, and only then did he actually tell watson what happened

responds to the king of bohemia insulting irene adler and saying she’s not on his level by saying coldly: “from what i have seen of the lady, she seems indeed to be on a very different level to your majesty”, which is basically him saying “actually she’s way better than you, so fuck off”

refused to shake said king’s hand

built a pillow fort in a client’s house so he could think better

let a poor jewel thief go because he cried, because it was christmas and therefore it was the season of forgiveness, and because the case was really easy anyway so it’s not his fault if the police are too stupid to solve it themselves

always reassures clients that they can trust him and watson and speak freely around them

is willing to waive his fee for clients who can’t afford to pay him, because according to him his profession is its own reward

this entire scene from speckled band when he gets confronted by his client’s abusive stepfather:

this nice little example of the gentleness he often displays with his clients:

the adventure of the copper beeches. just, all of it. a woman he doesn’t know comes to holmes for advice about a potential job she’s interviewed for and they both agree it sounds incredibly sketchy, she says she’s gonna take it anyway because she needs the money, and he’s like “well i wouldn’t want any sister of mine doing something like this but FINE i guess, just please write to us and let us know if you’re okay and if anything bad happens we’ll drop everything and come help you immediately”, and then the job does in fact turn out to be super sketchy and they drop everything and get on a train as soon as she writes to them

sometimes spends several hours out on walks through the park or the town with watson just relaxing and talking with him for the sake of it, despite watson frequently noting that holmes doesn’t have much appreciation for nature

“we have had the good fortune to bring peace to many troubled souls. i trust that we may do the same for you,” he says “in his easy, genial way” to a potential client who’s clearly very upset and sleep-deprived

is completely wrong about a particular case and asks watson to remind him of that case next time he gets overconfident

is noted by watson to be very neat and methodical in his methods and way of dress, while simultaneously being one of the messiest people ever who keeps his tobacco inside a persian slipper and his unopened letters held up by a knife in the center of his mantelpiece, keeps tons of criminal relics which apparently somehow end up in the butter dish sometimes, and keeps countless stacks of papers and documents all over the place

tells watson anecdotes about his past just to avoid cleaning up said documents

deliberately knocks over a table, shattering a glass fruit bowl which then sends oranges rolling all over the room, and then blames it on watson and runs away

says snarky things like “when gregson or lestrade are out of their depth–which, by the way, is their normal state” and “you’ve done very well, watson! it’s too bad you’ve missed everything of importance”

laughs when watson suggests he’s being modest about his abilities

picked up a rose and got all sappy and poetic about it

more specifically, picked up a rose and said that religion can be a science which involves a lot of careful deduction, and that flowers are a source of hope and proof of the goodness of god due to the fact that they aren’t a necessary part of life but are still so beautiful anyway

recovered an incredibly valuable government treaty for a client and had it served to him on a platter at breakfast because, in his own words, he “never can resist a touch of the dramatic”

faked his death and then revealed to watson that he was still alive in a manner that even he admitted was unnecessarily dramatic

had a full-scale wax model of himself created and used it to fool his enemies

made a diagram out of breadcrumbs to explain something to watson

broke into a blackmailer’s house for a case because he believed it to be morally justifiable, and admitted that he always thought he might make a good criminal

held watson’s hand while they were burgling said house together

twice

allowed said blackmailer to be murdered in front of him by one of his victims and then refused to take the case when asked because he just hated the guy that much

“flushed up with pleasure” when watson complimented him

asked watson to sell his medical practice and move back into 221b with him after the death of his wife. and then secretly gave a relative of his a ton of money to buy watson’s medical practice at the highest price watson would ask for, just so they could live together again

was nearly brought to tears by lestrade saying he was proud of him

let a dog lead him around on a case, multiple times in different stories

was very gentle with a client who he knew to be the victim of an abusive marriage and allowed the man who killed her husband to go free out of sympathy for their situation

noticed watson looking sad and touching his war wound and tried to cheer him up by echoing his thoughts and providing a deduction of how he knew what he was thinking

mentioned watson’s sparkling eyes in said deduction

talked about nothing but violins and his favorite violinist for an hour while he and watson had lunch together

likes going to classical music concerts and getting lost in the music

does scrapbooking

chuckles and rubs his hands together when he’s happy

this:

takes getting called "the devil himself" as a compliment

let a killer go because he had only killed in retaliation for the unjust murder of his lover, and holmes felt that he might’ve done the same if someone were to kill the woman he loved

on a completely unrelated note tells a guy who shoots watson “if you had killed watson you would not have got out of this room alive”

also reacted like this when watson got shot:

went undercover to supposedly give a guy secret government intelligence documents, and then gave him a book about bees instead

frequently disguised himself either for cases or just to fool watson and was noted to be a great actor

once disguised himself as an old woman with a parasol

tried the best he could to talk a young woman out of marrying a man who had a history of “collecting” women for sport and destroying their lives, and admitted to watson that he thought of her as he would think of his own daughter

was prone to “imp-like moods”

sent watson a message to come over at once ("if convenient--if inconvenient come all the same") just so he could infodump to him about dogs

wasn’t surprised that a dog died of grief shortly after its owner’s death, because of “the beautiful, faithful nature of dogs”

listened with great sympathy to a depressed woman who wanted to tell him her tragic story, picked up on hints that she was planning to commit suicide, talked her out of it by convincing her that her life does have value and then called her brave for choosing to live

got lost in thought looking out the window at the publicly funded elementary schools and randomly went on about how he believes they and the children who attend them are beacons of a brighter future

made hot cocoa for watson

shook hands with a baby

retired to the countryside to live on a farm and become a beekeeper.

#this post is SO ridiculously long i'm sorry. if the readmore doesn't work i will scream #it's also been in my drafts for ages and i wanna post it now that i'm deep in sherlock holmes obsession again #it is mostly for me so i can remind myself how much i love him <3 #sherlock holmes #acd canon #edit: okay not only did the readmore work but there are TWO readmores and i have no damn clue why #i can't seem to get rid of the second one?? idk if it's because the post is so long or what lol but oh well

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harmlessghosty · 1 year ago

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Touchstarved love-interests when they first meet a plus-size MC

~ demo spoilers below the cut ~

Kuras carries you out of the Fogfall into Eridia without an issue, bridal style and cautious not to jostle you for fear of making the bleeding much worse. He’s careful placing you onto the operating table, not thinking at all about your weight and how shoddy the equipment in his clinic might be. After all, he’s operated on people as large and larger than Leander, so you’re a drop in the bucket. No judgement at all for your size. In fact, he still finds you fascinating. If you’re entirely out of shape as well, he shows concern for your ability to travel such long distances, but overall, he’s truly just happy to see that you’ve survived. After you leave, he tosses your torn clothing, stopping for a moment to allow himself to think about how wonderful you looked to him.

Leander is immediately smitten. Oh? Someone with curves? With parts that jiggle? How exciting! And you seem just as interested, aren’t you? Why wouldn’t you be, when he’s instantly doting upon you with caresses to your wide hips and nudges to your shoulders in hopes that you might take his hand. To hell with the bandages; he’s interested, but more than that, he’s blinded with a vague sense of lust. After all, his escapades are known throughout Lowtown, though he’s careful to find only the best partners for himself. If he could just get you into that room at the Wet Wick for a moment…but no. He settles for placing his hands on your cheeks, forcing you to look at him with curiosity and bewilderment, and charms you with his smile.

Vere watches from a distance at first. His eyes rake up and down your body from his chained-up perch as he wishes he could draw you closer to get a better look. All he can think is that, from behind, you look quite ravishing. He imagines your ass would look nice without that sweater from that awful doctor’s office covering it. Maybe he could have a peek if he manages to flip it up with a sharp breeze? As he teases you for losing your key, he takes long pauses to better observe your shape and keep you guessing, and he struggles to hold back a grin. It’s been some time since he’s seen someone as curvy and fleshy as you in this shit town. He wonders if you might join at the brothel for a rendezvous and implies that you’re always welcome. Though he’s teasing, he does genuinely hope you accept his offer, just so he can see…

Ais is quick to notice your size and smirks to himself. You’re big everywhere too, aren’t you? And he loves it. Look at that—Someone who can match his size and handle his rougher-than-typical approach to attraction. When he shows himself to you, he takes a good, long look up and down your body, practically drooling at the thought of dragging you behind the columns of the Seaspring and seeing what’s under those clothes. Would you move as smoothly as he thinks you might? Maybe you have a cute voice too along with that size. If you didn’t look so mentally weak, little sparrow, then he might throw you into the Seaspring himself to give you a reason to stay. You know he can lift anything with those muscles, not to mention he would love to swing you around like a rag doll, putting you exactly where he wants you.

Mhin doesn’t even think about your size at first. In fact, they’re so focused on their Soulless target that they hardly notice you exist. The moment you start blabbering though, they roll their eyes. You’re frustrating them, getting in the way. Here they are, trying to do their job, and you’re thinking they’re here to save you? Ridiculous. But…Don’t you look interesting in an outfit that they recognize is from Kuras’ clinic. Something that shows off your body in a way they’re not sure whether they like. Are you trying to attract attention to yourself for some kind of gain, or are you just stupid? Don’t you know that, in a place like Eridia, it’s better to blend in? They think to offer you their cloak, but they need it more, after all. Besides, they certainly don’t mind seeing someone with your pretty shape in their line of sight, not that they’d admit it.

#i’m very shy using the official tags but i really do enjoy what i’ve written here #i too am plus-sized so this is just what i’d really adore their reactions to be #my experiences are not everyone’s so obviously take that into account here #ghostywrites #x reader #plus size #touchstarved game #touchstarved kuras #touchstarved leander #touchstarved vere #touchstarved ais #touchstarved mhin #Ais #Mhin #Leander #Kuras #Vere

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kahtiihma · 2 years ago

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to my friends on the official malevolent discord server

I was recently kicked from the Invictus/Malevolent discord server and had no opportunity to reach out to anyone I was speaking with at the time before my access was removed. If we were talking and you wished to continue (or if you wanted to start a conversation with me and never had the chance), please DM me here on tumblr or contact me on discord (username: kahti). I miss you all, I’m absolutely heartbroken, and this was never how I wanted things to go. I’m hoping this tumblr message will reach at least a few of you so I don’t lose contact with everyone fully.

To everyone in the Invictus server who knew me well, I love you all. I hope you stay well. Please keep posting flowers and my heart goes out to all of you. You made this community fun and rewarding and I’m grateful for having known you. Goodbye 💕

Details will be provided below.

As many may know, I’ve been a part of the Malevolent podcast fan community for over two years and active in the official Invictus discord server run by Harlan since April 2021. I adore the community and the people there have been so lovely. Many friends have come out of that space and for years I have been vocal about how my priority has always been maintaining peace and nurturing relationships.

This is why I find it very difficult to talk about this situation.

On Friday, July 14th, I was private messaged on discord by Jo (Harlan’s wife) saying I would be kicked from the Invictus server and have my Patreon membership revoked. Immediately upon receiving that message the server vanished from my access while I was reeling in confusion. I think there was implication that I was meant to take the message as an opportunity to leave the server on my own accord but I had no access or ability to do so, nor were any of my responses for clarification given any reply.

The reason cited for kicking me was that Harlan and Jo were uncomfortable I showed interest in meeting them at this year’s FanExpo Toronto, an event we have all attended together in the past. As they did last year, they provided a google survey to track interest and attendees which contained an option “are you interested in meeting Jo & Harlan?”. Since this was the method used last year to headcount the number of people interested in a discord server meetup, I selected “yes” despite having no actual intention of interacting with them directly.

Without going into detail, there have been many incidents over this last year behind the scenes that have left me feeling very uncomfortable about the Guthries and I would rather have given them space and hoped they’d respect my space as well. If they had reached out to me and stated they weren’t comfortable with me attending any meetup they were hosting, I would have immediately respected those wishes and avoided being in the same general area at the time. However, this was the first time Jo had spoken to me in nine months and I hadn’t heard from Harlan in four months. At no point during that time was I given any indication that I was doing anything wrong or causing anyone any trouble so it came as a complete shock to be suddenly escalated to outright banned.

I knew they had me blocked since March this year but respected that as their decision even if the reasons were unclear and did my best to avoid interacting with them while still engaging in the space -- something Harlan himself stated he hoped I would continue to do when they removed my moderator status in March, which I took as his consent and blessing to remain in the server. To be told my presence was unwanted totally blindsided me and left me struggling to understand what happened.

I’m not too proud to say I immediately burst into tears in the doctor’s office I was waiting in at the time of being kicked.

I’m not concerned about retaliation. I’m not concerned with anyone taking my side. I wish they had been better at communicating their needs so this entire situation could have been avoided, but it happened and it is what it is. Currently I’m absolutely gutted bc there were so many people I enjoyed speaking with who I now have no access to nor do I have their discord names to dm them and let them know where I went. I hate that it looks like I vanished without saying goodbye.

#malevolent #malevolent podcast #masked #malevolent pod #rusty quill #personal

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spencerreidswhore187 · 2 years ago

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Checkmate (The Final Part)

By @spencerreidswhore187 for @sackofpissandshit (who has been harassing me for this fic all week)

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five

Summary: Spencer finds out that reader is not who he thought they were. (Lots of angst)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Unsub (g!n) Reader

Word Count: 3.1K

TW: Death, kidnapping, mentions of assault, blood, strong-ish language, mentions of suicide, mentions of self-harm, severing of a limb, fire.

A/N: Hi! Thank you to everyone who liked, commented, reblogged and followed Checkmate, it means the world to me. Sorry this has taken me a while to write, a fun fact about me is I currently have a kidney infection - my doctor told me this on the one year anniversary of my last kidney infection. Anyway, enjoy me, an extremely British person trying (and failing) to be American.

P.S. There is a Star Trek reference in this that killed me to write.

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

It was a foolish thing to fall in love with hope. Hope was dangerous. Hope was irresistible. Hope would inevitably kill you.

You had hoped you'd survive this but knew it was impossible; as you ran, you felt it die - that spark, your soul. There was no Y/N, not anymore. Only the Phantom Menace remained.

Y/N will not be able to save Spencer, but the Phantom Menace could.

You hated that name (not that it mattered) you had no say in it. You were a ghost Ben had told you, a monster. You needed a name that mirrored that.

You were like a shadow all those years ago. You disguised yourself in the dark, letting gloom envelop you. You felt safe when you became the ghost.

It was like you did not exist. All your problems went away and you allowed yourself to be someone else - something else. You had scaled the coarse brick wall of a manor house dreaming of your future. When you silently slipped through the window, you thought about love.

It was unbecoming to believe a person could ever fall in love with someone like you - a killer, the creature that lurked under children’s beds, haunting their nightmares.

Still, your mind chased the foolish fantasy.

Love was what let you dissociate. Love was what let you drag a blade along a stranger’s neck. And, when you returned like clockwork to the Ivylands without a drop of crimson blood on you, you would walk alone through the woods to the cabin by the lake.

You had been instructed to go there after every mission.

Ben would stroke your hair, calling you beautiful and shower you with praise. Once upon a time, you thought that was what love was...you knew better now. Thanks to Spencer.

Spencer was your everything and you would not let yourself lose him.

That meant killing the gentle thing you’d become. You wished it was harder than it was to do so.

“Left,” you murmured, heading to the cabin was like listening to your old favourite song: it had been so long, yet, you still knew every single word.

You knew this is where Beth had taken Spencer; She hated that place. She wasn’t like you, Ben’s rare, kind words did not fill her with life - they made her sick, they made her angry. You used to wish you were more like her: she was confident and proud, not some kid who did whatever was asked of them. Still, Beth would wipe away your tear after every kill. “Never let him see you hurting,” she would make you promise “because even if Ben tells you he feels bad for what he did, I need you to know that deep down he has a sadistic smile knowing he broke you. Don’t let him break you, Mouse.”

Ben never saw you cry, not until he killed Beth. He laughed at his pretty little murderer as tears streamed down your cheeks. You stopped feeling that day - you became numb. That is, until, him.

Spencer made your heart start beating again.

At last, you stopped running. The cabin was ancient, constructed of rotting moss-stained wood. You had no idea how after all this time, it was still standing.

The porch groaned as you hesitantly approached the door; you gripped the brass handle and twisted it. Your hands were shaking.

It was useless trying to be discrete. Beth knew you were coming, she likely knew you were already here.

The door screeched as it opened, though, you could barely hear it - your heart was pounding in your ears.

Nothing prepared you for the sight of Dr Spencer Reid handcuffed, sitting crossed-legged on the floor, with Beth aiming a gun at him.

Beth had a warm smile plastered on her face as you walked through the threshold, “Hello, Mouse.”

You hated the nostalgia that stupid nickname made you feel. All the others had called you that behind your back, you used to pretend like you didn’t hear. You like it when Beth said it, though.

It made you feel special.

Not anymore.

You raised your gun at her, “Let him go.” You kept your gaze focused on her, not allowing it to slip back to Spencer, who you could see watching you out of your peripheral.

Part of you was shocked that he didn’t grimace at your appearance; blood and mud coated your entire body. But Spencer wasn’t like that, it did not matter who you were or what you looked like, to him you would always be the most beautiful person in the world. Sometimes, when he held you under the covers of your bed, whispering sweet nothings, you would believe him.

“Put the gun down, Y/N,” Beth ordered. She pushed it against Spencer’s temple.

You could hear Spencer’s rapid breathing. You didn’t let it distract you. Instead, you took a step closer to them.

Beth didn’t like that. “Don’t fucking test me, Mouse. I will kill him.”

“No,” your voice was confident, steady, even, the Phantom Menace was talking now, “you won’t.”

You cocked the gun and fired without hesitation.

Beth’s wicked cackle flooded the room as you missed, shattering the window behind her.

Shards of glass scattered across the floor, distracting you. Your idiotic mistake allowed Beth to steal your gun.

You focused on Spencer’s hazel eyes as she roughly pulled your hands behind your back. As you felt the cool metal of handcuffs around your wrists, you mouthed to Spencer: “It’s okay.”

Beth grabbed your hair, using it to pull you to the floor. You didn’t even wince as you fell onto a pile of jagged glass, you watched Spencer rapidly search you for open wounds.

You sat opposite him as Beth sat down at the dining room table. She raised her gun again.

“I have some questions for the two of you,” she taunted. “You are both going to do whatever I say, correct?”

Neither of you answered. This angered Beth; she fired the pistol twice, a few metres from where you lay. “Correct?” She repeated.

Spencer replied instantly, “Yes.”

You refused to look at Beth, “yes,” you muttered.

“Wonderful,” she laughed, “Checkmate.”

—————————————————————————————————---

When the unknown number started calling, Penelope Garcia was already on the phone.

“Pen, Penelope. I need you to calm down okay?” Emily tried to reassure her.

“I don’t - I can’t breathe. Oh my god Luke. Emily! Please, I don’t know what to do. First Spencer and now my newbie? I-”

“He’s alive, Penelope. Y/N didn’t kill him, she missed his heart. Luke is on his way to the hospital, and Rossi and I are on our way back to headquarters.”

“I don’t understand, Emily, you saw Y/N L/N try and stop the bleeding?”

“Yes?”

“Then how do you they shot him?”

“No one else was with them and Spencer is gone. I can’t explain why they did it. We know they poisoned and then tried to save Reid, perhaps they have a saviour complex…what is that ringing?”

Garcia spun around in her chair, reaching for her work phone.

“Some unknown number keeps calling.”

Emily’s voice filtered through the mobile instantly, “answer it. Now,” she ordered.

“…you don’t think it’s-”

“I do.”

Penelope answered immediately, placing her other phone on her desk.

“Is this Agent Penelope Garcia of the BAU?” Asked a distorted voice.

Penelope replied anxiously, “Speaking.”

“I have something you might like to see.” The call disconnected as a hyperlink came through on her computer.

Rossi and Emily entered the room as soon as Garcia clicked on the link.

“What on earth…” She gasped.

A live video appeared on the screen showing Y/N and Reid both handcuffed, sat on a wooden floor.

“Someone tell JJ to look for a log cabin. Immediately.” Instructed Emily.

“Dr Reid,” a voice from offscreen purred, “why don’t you go first? Tell your dear girlfriend about Meave.”

————————————————————————————————————-

Meave. You recognised that name but for the life of you could not figure out why.

“Ignore her,” you pleaded.

Beth scoffed, making a show of cocking the gun, “wrong answer. Try again.”

Spencer inhaled deeply. “Meave died because of me.”

“You can do better than that, Reid.”

“She, um, was my girlfriend. She was being stalked by this girl Diane Turner. It was a murder-suicide.”

“Don’t forget to tell our Y/N when this was,” Beth taunted.

“N-nearly four years ago.”

Right before he met you. The grave you realised. It all made so much sense. She was why Spencer was in the cemetery, Meave was who he was coming to see.

You could tell Beth wanted to make you jealous but you felt nothing at all. Your heart broke a little for Spence, you could see why he lied about being a doctor.

If Beth was irritated by your silence, you couldn’t tell. “Your turn Mouse!” She sang, “If you answer honestly then you can ask me a question.”

You closed your eyes briefly, already knowing what she was going to ask.

“Who’s August?”

“No,” you whispered.

Her hand slapped your cheek with a powerful force. You weren’t surprised, Ben had taught you how to inflict pain oh so well.

“Who. Is. August.” She repeated.

You corrected, “Was. Who was August.” You regretted ever telling Beth about them.

You fidgeted against the restraints. “August was the first person I loved. They were kind and caring and I killed them anyway.” You turned your head towards Beth, “How did you survive?”

“Are you sure that’s what you want to ask? It’s such a boring question.”

“Answer it then.” Beth rolled her eyes.

“The fucking bastard missed my heart when he shot me. Just like I missed SSA Luke Alvez’s. Ben’s assistants through my body into an open grave and left me there, didn’t even bother to check my pulse,” she sniffed, “Your turn again, Reid. What was it that you purchased last week when you pretended to be sick to avoid going to work?”

Spencer turned slightly, staring right at you as he said it.

“An engagement ring.”

“Spence…” You breathed.

Beth was beaming. Spencer looked like he was going to throw up.

“It was a really beautiful ring, Mouse, so simple, so plain. Just like you,” she teased.

“Why are you doing this?”

Beth kissed her teeth, “It’s not your turn, honey. Now, explain why you poisoned your precious boyfriend, or, better yet, pretended to be his wife when you called for an ambulance.”

“I don’t know why,” you lied.

“Yes, you do!” Spencer couldn’t breathe. “It’s because you do whatever your master, Ben, tells you.” Shouted Beth.

“Then it’s a good thing you killed him,” you spat.

You repeated your earlier question. “Why are you doing this.”

Making sure Beth was distracted, you slowly, discretely, reached for the jagged shard of glass on the left of your right hand.

“It’s not fair,” she seethed, “I trusted you and you fell in love with one of them. You hated police officers, remember? They are the reasons we became monsters! If they hadn’t stopped looking for us, we never would have ended up here, in this house, in this cabin. If-if it wasn’t for them, my family would still be alive.”

You grasped the glass shard tightly, blood trickling down your palm.

“If my family has to be dead, then so does yours. There’s only one person you care about…him.” Beth gestured at him with the gun.

“Last question before I kill you both-”

“Y/N,” Spencer edged towards you.

“Enough, pig. Do you love them?” Beth tapped the gun against his head.

Spencer didn’t bother hiding the truth, if you were both going to die, he needed you to know. He looked into your eyes, Spencer would happily drown in the [your eye colour] of your eyes. “I love you,” He vowed.

“Even now? She is a murderer, after all, the very thing you’re hired to destroy.”

“You are the knife I turn inside myself; that is love. That, my dear, is love.” He quoted.

Spencer must have read Kafka’s ‘Letters to Milena’ a thousand times since you met, every time he opened the cover of the novel, he was brought back to the day he met the love of his life.

“You are poetry material, Spence; You are full of cloudy subtleties I am willing to spend a lifetime figuring out. Words burst in your essence and you carry their dust in the pores of your ethereal individuality.” Immediately you were engulfed by pain, you pressed the glass shard against the base of your pinky finger and pushed and pushed. You tried your hardest to keep your breathing steady when finally you severed the finger.

You saw Spencer notice the blood pooling behind you. You subtly shook your head as he opened his mouth to protest. Angling your hand just right, you were able to agonisingly force your hand out of one of the cuffs.

Beth slowly walked towards you, “Well wasn’t that romantic. Oh, wait, I mean pathetic.”

Without hesitation, you tackled her to the ground, reaching for the gun in her hand.

“Y/N!” You heard Spencer cry as Beth’s elbow collided with your chin. You were blinded by pain but that did not matter, you needed that weapon. You notice a small triangle of glass to your right, you reached for it and plunged it into Beth’s side.

Beth screamed, immediately reaching to pull the glass out. This allowed you to capture the gun.

How the tables turn, you thought, as you pressed the barrel against her temple.

“Spencer,” you instructed slowly, “go.”

He stood up and took one step towards you, “Spence, please,” your voice cracked, “I need you to go.”

“I’m not going to leave you Y/N.”

“Please, Spence.”

“Y/N-”

“I love you. Promise me you’ll run as fast as you can. Don’t turn back. I’ll be right behind you.” You both knew it was a lie.

Beth squirmed in your grasp.

“You’ll be right behind me?”

“Scout’s honour.” You did the Vulcan salute for good measure.

You made sure to drink Spencer in one more time, he was so beautiful. You wished you could have told him more.

Spencer turned back around one last time before leaving.

“You lied.” Beth gave a cold, wet laugh - blood dribbled down her chin. “Neither of us is getting out of this alive.”

You stood up, brushing the dirt off you. Your hand was throbbing. “Did Ben seriously not remember you?”

Beth looked at you, face painted with confusion.

“Power of hair dye, I guess.” You shrugged.

Beth remained on the soiled ground as you walked towards the set of drawers. You rummaged through the mess till you found what you were looking for. Tentatively, you pulled one out of the box, dragging it along the side.

“You’re crazy,” Beth breathed.

You held the match near your face, examining the orange flame.

“Checkmate,” you mocked as you let go.

——————————————————————————————————

Spencer ran and ran and ran. If he stopped it became too real. He refused to believe it. He kept running through the woods until he collided with someone else.

“Spencer!” Exclaimed JJ, pulling him in for a hug. Spencer rested his head on her shoulder, he couldn’t help the sobs that escaped him. “It’s okay, it’s okay, you’re okay,” JJ soothed, rubbing his back.

“I have to go back,” Spencer whispered into her shoulder. “I need to help them, they-”

“Spencer,” Tara said slowly, gently, “what do you mean?”

“Spencer pushed away from JJ and started explaining “They’re still…no. No. NO!”

He turned around and watch the melancholy smoke rise, dancing above the horizon. The amber flames taunted him, reaching for the stars in the distance.

Spencer thought he knew heartbreak…it felt nothing like this. Pain didn’t do this feeling justice. He felt like he was dying.

——————————————————————————————————

It had been a week since you died; Spencer had only left the headquarters once.

The team had tried to coax him away from the reports but it was to no avail. Something was wrong, he was sure of it. You couldn’t be dead. You couldn’t.

Emily had shown Spencer the footage from the live stream with Beth in hopes it would give him closure, it just made it worst. He replayed the last five seconds of the clip again and again.

There was something malicious, something cunning, about the way you stared at the camera as you dropped the match.

It was like you knew it was there all along.

“Reid…” Emily tried, but Spencer ignored her. She didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but you.

Your funeral was the day before. No one went but Spence.

He had traced your name in the granite on your gravestone where Y/N Reid was engraved. He knew you hated your last name. He held his treasured copy of Letters to Milena and spoke for the first time in days: “If a million loved you, I am one of them, and if one loved you, it was me, and if no one loved you then know that I am dead.” He left the novel, along with his broken heart and shattered soul, at the grave.

Spencer reached for the fire report once again.

He had memorised every word but still, he would read it again and again until he found whatever it was Spencer was looking for.

He ran a long, thin finger along the printed words.

Two bodies had been found in the ruins of the cabin. Both were too burnt to be identifiable, not that it could have been anyone else other than Beth Gallagher and Y/N L/N. One body had a deep cut on the left side of their stomach and the other was covered in shallow cuts. Other than that, no wounds. No wounds, Spencer repeated to himself, both bodies had all ten fingers and all ten toes.

No..it couldn’t be possible.

But Spencer knew what he saw, the memory was tattooed on his brain. He watched you cut your finger off.

You were alive.

A/N: Thank you for reading! This is the final part of the Checkmate series (sorry for the cliffhanger) I hope you enjoyed it. I did write an epilogue in addition to this part but I'm not sure whether I'm going to post it or not ◡̈

——————————————————————————-

If you would like to be added to the tag list comment or message me.

Taglist: @sackofpissandshit @ara-a-bird @princess-ofthe-pages @catsinaspacesuit @skull-centric @wrldofsage @dezibou

#criminal minds #spencer reid #mathew gray gubler #mgg #criminal minds evolution #tara lewis #emily prentiss #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #jennifer jareau #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfiction #luke alvez #penelope garcia #david rossi #frank kafka #Spencer Reid puts the Bi in FBI

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mysticsublimeperson · 7 months ago

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<< Part 4 >>

Arthur and Morgana hadn't properly talked since the day they discovered that Morgana was in fact, his sister.

His father was ill, had been ill for months, getting progressively and exponentially worse until the point were some days, when he finally woke up, he wasn't really there.

The doctors have been preparing them for the worse, because his condition wasn't dependent on the medication, it all depended upon how Uther's body and mind would take it. Morgana had been really distant for a few weeks, but Arthur couldn't have blamed her for it. It was a really hard time.

And then one day, Uther woke up lucid and asked for them, both. And everything went south, Morgana confronted Uther directly, speaking of a secret sister that Arthur did know nothing about, and Uther tried to deny, try to deflect and acuse... but he was weak in body and mind so he admitted at last. Morgana was his first child.

Uther did a show of apologizing without really apologizing for anything, defending himself until he basically was acusing everyone else, but Morgana did not care for it. She didn't even stayed to hear it, she threw her phone to the floor and got out of there, out of the hospital, and out of their life.

This moment was crucial in his relationship with Uther, the moment Morgana abandoned them, in Uther words, hit him hard. So hard that he almost died several times that months.

Uther got better and compensated the lack of Morgana with more expectations for Arthur, and he was honestly still in shook, hurt, and afraid of losing him, he also was hurt by Morgana's departure so he tried to be there for the both of them. Eventually Uther recovered almost fully, and decided to ignore the situation as if it had been nothing, making it seem like Arthur was being dramatic when he tried to bring it up.

And Merlin... Merlin had been there for him through it all, even though Merlin never had liked Uther, he even found out Morgana's new contact information eventually, and gave it to him. He had said that he knew how important family was to Arthur, and he wanted to give him the chance to reconnect when they were ready, assuring that he had also given his contact to Morgana.

He thought about that number in his phone often, for a while, he didn't want to talk to her, not at that time, he had been mad too, angry, he had understood that Morgana had her right to be mad. But at that time he'd remember thinking that she was exaggerating, that Uther acted wrong, yes, but she had to see his point, he had been trying to preserve the reputation of a company not just them.

In retrospective, he really was brain washed.

In the last three months, he had less and less patience around Uther, and he understood that he had been idolizing his father for way too long, but right now everything he did was annoying, and he couldn't give a damn about anything he said, which presented a problem, because he was unfortunately his boss.

None of that had mattered anyways. Because he could always keep up the pretense. He could keep his father's approval, his position at the company and Merlin, nothing had to change... right?

All of that brought him to this moment. Merlin had gotten tired of his passiveness, and without Merlin, all of the other stuff just didn't matter. He wished he hadn't had to loose it all in other to learn that but that's life.

"Arthur? Are you there? Is this a joke? Because I assure you it's not funny" Morgana's voice broke his reverie.

"Hello, Morgana" he spoke slowly, almost afraid of scaring her off.

"Hello little brother" she answered a bit more confident, Arthur tried to not gasp "to what do I owe this pleasure? Has Uther finally died?"

Arthur didn't respond to that, he didn't want this conversation to revolve around Uther "I need your help" he told her finally.

#fanfic #fanfiction #arthur pendragon #bbc merlin #merthur #merlin x arthur #idea #merlin emrys #au #merlin #modern au

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kaigarax · 1 year ago

Text

And... You

Or This is How to Yearn For

Trafalgar Law x Reader

Quote: "Fall in love with someone even if it's just a dream."

It is of the utmost importance, regardless of someone’s age, gender or race, to be excellent in at least one thing. One must not merely excel at this single task but be fundamentally better than anyone else within similar circumstances attempting to accomplish that very same task and in a location relative to yours.

Of course, this entire theory can be ultimately tossed out and entirely forsaken if one does not wish to become important (in any way whatsoever) and hopes to maintain an ordinary life. It should be noted that by choosing to ignore this most radical and sensible piece of advice you are outright denying oneself of all human pleasures that fall into either category of dreams or desires.

This piece is, of course, only one of seven different instructionals to help guide you into a world of excellence. One should hope to not just entertain themselves with these pieces of work but look to apply them into their everyday life. Once again, it should be noted that all pieces should be read and thought on for a maximum absorption of the materials.

Now, without further ado, this is how to yield results.

---

Meetings.

Countless and countless amounts of meetings. All equally useless as they were time consuming.

If Law had known about how many early meetings the World Government, specifically the Marines, would have requested from him after becoming one of the Seven Warlords he likely would have reconsidered the idea entirely. He still would have gone through with the plan but more consideration would have been had.

Fortunately, the current meeting didn’t seem to be going as bad as he thought.

Usually, at least according to what he’d been told, Warlords don’t get involved with Marine issues unless absolutely necessary. Most didn’t even attend the meetings in the first place unless their position of power was threatened to be taken away. And even then it was still up for question how many of them would really show up.

Law, while a Pirate, was also a man on a mission. A task he needed accomplished in spite of everything else in his life. A need.

So, he’d bite his tongue and do what was asked. At least until the moment to strike would finally rise.

And then he spotted you.

---

Dr. Trafalgar Law, unsurprisingly, thought a lot about death. Not just did it come with the territory of being a doctor but also one of being a pirate. The lives of your crew heavily depended on you in both occupations.

He thought about all the lives he saved as a doctor.

And all the one’s he didn’t.

All the lives he took as a pirate.

And the one’s he didn’t.

Mostly though, when he thought about death, he thought about his own. About how, one day, death would finally come to reclaim him. Embrace him back in the grasp he had escaped so long ago when he was young. When it would finally reunite him with the members of his family that had all unfortunately died young.

Sometimes, he imagined that his death would come alongside revenge. A painfully fought battle that would require every single part of who he is and who he would be. A battle to the death.

Other times he imagined himself with gray hair, aging away the years until he was nothing but a pile of bones to be buried beneath the ground when he ultimately passes away from old age. A mundane way to die but peaceful nonetheless.

More often than not, though, Law thought of drowning.

Being a Devil Fruit wielder he imagined that drowning, more likely than anything else, would ultimately be the cause of his death.

Sure, not many Devil Fruit users (according to the information he’d acquired over the years) actually died from drowning (especially when surrounded by loyal companions) but the option was always there. The most dangerous threat to his life being the very thing he lived his life upon.

An all consuming force that pulls you down, slowly draining you of everything you are and everything you have until there’s nothing left. But such is the price one must pay when the power of the sea is stolen away. The curse of the Ocean, one might say. The gift of a devil.

When Law dreamed, which wasn’t very often, he dreamed of death. He dreamed of drowning.

The blue green waves grab hold of him by the ankles and slowly drag him down until he’s fully submerged. Watching as the light from the sky disappears and the water becomes cooler.

It’s pretty, at first. A contrast to his lungs as they burn for air.

And then, just when he’s about to give up, he sees you.

He’s not exactly sure who you are but he knows for certain it’s you. Diving into the water after him every time in an attempt to save his life. You’re a dream walker, he thinks. A figment of his imagination. Not someone he’s ever seen before but someone that’s been embedded in his heart for ages. Even before he had taken to the seas and his life changed forever.

He imagines you’re noble in nature. Jumping head first into the ocean after a stranger you don’t know.

Sweet. Tending to him quietly. Waiting for him to awaken from the sudden shock to his system.

Pretty. Beautiful even. A sight for sore eyes as he opens his own after an almost untimely death. He obviously wouldn’t have died, it was just a dream after all, but in the moment he didn’t know that. It wasn’t something his mind had yet registered.

And it’s a shame.

Law always tries his best to remember the features of your face. To remember the curve of your lip when you smile and the swoop of your hair. Tries his best to memorize even the slightest of imperfections but your face disappears from his mind and memory the instance he looks away. Much like how one might grasp for smoke is how he grasps for your name.

“Law?” You wave a hand in front of his face.

He shakes his head ever so slightly, “yes?”

“What’re you thinking about?”

“Curious, are you about the inner workings of my mind?”

You lean forward, a curious look in your eyes. It’s as if you’re inspecting Law for the first time. You reach an arm out to touch him but don’t actually choose to make contact. Hovering over him as if contact will make him disappear.

You're hesitant.

Afraid.

And more so than everything else, you’re curious.

He can see the curiosity in your eyes. It’s something akin to a child’s excitement on Christmas day. Filled to the brim with an emotion he once so wholly felt. Just a moment away from bursting out.

But you stay still.

Hovering just inches away.

You’re a gentle lady through and through. If the term were to ever need definition, Law most certainly will point to you. And he likes that. Finds it, amongst other things, attractive. He’s never had anything against loud or outspoken women but something about a gentle soul like your own makes him curious. Gets his own soul stirring.

Law, on the other hand, is by no means a gentle man. He’s rough, rude and frank. But you don’t seem to mind. Especially not as he takes your hand on his own and places it on his cheek.

You flush.

Your hands are warm. Warmer than he thought they would’ve been. They remind him almost of clouds or a dream. Oh wait, this is a dream isn’t it? A memory of a dream? A dream of a memory? Simply something long forgotten?

“Are you real?” Law asks, his voice ringing throughout the empty field the two of you find yourselves in.

You laugh, “I was considering asking you that as well.”

“Well I think I’m real.”

“And what does that make me?”

Law hums, “a figment of a memory of a dream that I desperately try to hold onto as I wake up in the morning.”

You laugh again, “you’re quite the romantic, aren’t you?”

Law flashes you a grin, displaying the tattoos on his hands for you, “only for you~”

“Well then, I’m flattered.”

“As anyone would be, I expect.”

But you weren’t anyone; and that fact alone both worried and intrigued Law.

In his short time upon this world there had been a large plethora of people Law would get to meet. There were, of course, the obvious various amounts of different pirates from a nameless amount of crews; most men and most loud mouthed and ill mannered. Then there were the locals; often large communities of relatively harmless people with usually the best of intentions. And lastly, there was the Marines; mostly low leveled Marines until Law finally took it upon himself to make it known.

Well, there was also that one time where they ran into a Warlord and Admiral but that was hardly a fault of his own.

And then there was you. Little Miss Dream Walker, swaying her feet through the waves of the water as though he weren’t just drowning in it moments ago.

He asked you about that once. Why you always chose to save him. And you, in the most you fashion that Law thought possible, simply smiled. As if it were the choice that anyone would make. As if it were the only choice to make. Law would, of course, beg to differ but considering he was the one being saved he decided that it was an argument best left unargued.

You fiddled around with a series of multicoloured strings. Where you pulled them from Law is clueless of but he’s certain they must have come from somewhere. You frown slightly as you pull a white one out and throw it into the ocean. Law’s almost a little sad. He’s always been quite fond of the colour white. It does happen to be the only other colour apart from his wardrobe. Not that he’d ever tell you. It disappeared with the flowing of the waves, pushing it back and forth until it’s been pulled under.

“Have you ever been in love?” You asked, pulling out a green string from the bundle.

Law shakes his head in response, “not in a world like mine.”

“Mine?” You raise a brow, “do we happen to live in different worlds?”

“You never know.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

“As I usually am.”

“Calm down smart Alec.”

Law smiled at that and so did you.

Your fingers looked tangled themselves up with a blue string. Law wasn’t sure why but he found that colour particularly distasteful. He reached into your mess of a pile and unwrapped the blue from your fingers meticulously. When he had finally unwrapped it from your hand he tossed it as far as he could into the ocean.

You laughed, “what’re you doing?”

Law shrugged which only seemed to cause you to laugh more.

He flushed, “so have you ever been in love?”

“What,” you teased, “curious about my love life?”

“No!” Law was certain his face was bright red as it was burning hot, “I only asked you because you asked me first! If anything I should’ve asked why you want to know about my love life.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

Law rolled his eyes in response but that was one of the things he liked about you most. Even if he didn’t admit it you seemed to understand what he meant (even if he didn’t). And, yes, he was curious about your love life. About what kind of person might have captured your attention in the first place and if he might be the kind of person too.

He imagines you like someone smart. Kind? Most girls like kind guys, don’t they? Someone that likes them? And Law’s nice, isn’t he? Sure, civilians and other pirates (and Marines) might not think he’s a good fellow but his crew mates do and that’s got to count for something, right?

You think of him as a nice person, don’t you?

Ah, he’s too much of a coward to ask.

“Yeah,” you say.

“Hm?”

“Yes, I’ve been in love before.”

Oh.

“Here.” You hold out the jumble of strings which has now transformed into a series of black threads woven together intricately.

Law hesitantly picks it up from your hand, bringing it up to the light in an attempt to inspect it better, “what am I supposed to do with this?”

“Wear it. It’ll help me find you.”

“How so?”

You smile, “because only you would wear a black bracelet like that.”

Fall in love with someone even if it’s just a dream.

---

“Hey!” Law called out.

You turned, the cape of justice hanging off your shoulders, swishing around your body, “can I help you?”

He approached you, grabbing your hand and leaving practically no distance between the two of you, “who are you?”

“Vice-Admiral Sengoku.”

You…

You?

You were Vice-Admiral Sengoku?

Law’s eyes narrowed, “are you sure?”

“Yeah,” you smiled playfully, “I’m pretty sure I know my own name Sir.”

“And what’s that?”

“Sengoku. Sengoku (Y/n)."

#one piece #one piece x reader #trafalgar law x reader #100 ways to fall in love

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81scorp · 10 months ago

Text

Constructive criticism: Raya and Wish (2023)

Ah yes, Raya and the last Dragon and Wish... and a bonus

Raya and the last Dragon

Taking place in the fictional country of Kumandra, based on Southeast Asian culture, the movie follows the warrior princess Raya as she seek the fabled last dragon to save her father and the land of Kumandra from evil spirits that are known as Druun.

Critics gave the film positive reviews; some critics praised the imagery and depth but criticized the limited Southeast Asian representation.

The movie is very good on a technical level, Visually impressive, fun characters and the story is good... until the third act.

It`s message doesn`t really fit into it`s narrative. It tries to fit a square shaped peg into a round hole.

If I could wish upon a star that I could travel back in time and do some changes to the script I would like to make one small change.

Namaari giving her "This is just as much your fault" speech and Raya acting as if she`s right

The biggest downside in this scene is Raya`s reaction to what Namaari says, looking at her own reflection in her sword as if to say: "My god, what have I become?"

How I would do it: Raya and Namaari fight. Raya gets the upperhand, disarms Namaari and is about to strike the final blow... but then she looks at what`s happening around them, the city is falling apart, killing Namaari is not gonna solve this. She drops her sword.

Raya: "My original plan was to steal the gem. It was Sisu who convinced me to talk to you. She believed in you. And for a moment... so did I."

Then she leaves to save what still can be saved of the people of Fang.

Namaari looks at her own reflection in one of her twin swords and has a "My god, what have I become?" moment.

I guess I could stop here, but I want to change one more scene.

Raya giving her gem piece to Namaari

In the scene where they are all in the pit trying to fight the druuns with their gem pieces and Raya realizes that they have to put the pieces together, it would be better if Namaari gave her piece to Raya before she gives her piece to Namaari.

Namaari would then step backwards and let the Druun take her. The others would then give their pieces to Raya, stand next to Namaari and be turned to stone. Raya tries to put the gem back together, nothing happens, she places herself between Namaari and the others (Tong, Boun, Little Noi and the Ongis), puts a hand on Tong`s arm and a hand on Namaari`s shoulder as if to form a bridge between the two. (Symbolism!)

Then the dragongem starts working, everyone gets unstoned, the dragons return, Kumandra is united and everyone`s happy.

The end.

Yes, I know. Raya needed to learn how to trust, but Namaari needed to show that she could be trusted.

Wish (2023)

Disney (the company that owns your childhood) was turning 100 years old and decided to give itself a big pat on the back by making an animated movie that would celebrate it`s legacy.

The film received mixed reviews, with praise directed towards the vocal performances, the animation and references to the wider Disney canon, but criticism levelled at the plotting, songs, and screenplay.

People were disappointed in Wish because it was supposed to be a milestone, the movie made to celebrate that the Disney animation studio has been around for 100 years! It just couldn`t live up to the hype. But if you take all the hype and great expectations out of the equation and just view it, not as this BIG thing it was intended to be, but just as the movie it is, it`s... just OK.

Later when the art book of the movie came out and people saw what could have been, many youtubers decided to do what I have been doing since 2015, and do a little constructive criticism of their own. With so many rewrites of Wish popping up on the internet and my own history of playing script doctor, it only seems logical that I too throw my hat in the ring and submit my own Wish rewrite.

So... if I had a fairy godmother who could Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo me back in time to when this movie was written, this is what I would change.

People willingly giving their wishes to Magnifico

It would have been better if Magnifico took peoples wishes from them without their knowledge. It would have made him a better villain. He could take peoples wishes when they are asleep.

Asha

I`d dial down her quirkiness a little. Personalitywise she could be an ambitious overachiever, a mix between Hermoine and Tiana, with an adorkable side.

Valentino

Does everything he says have to be something comical? I like jokes but not all of them landed. It was like his funniness was mandated. Dial down the number of jokes.

Some of the songs

It`s not that the songs are bad per se, some of them just don`t fit into the scenes where they are used, like "At all cost".

They should either have :

A: Given Julia Michaels more time and let her be more involved in the production. (Howard Ashman was very involved in the making of The Little Mermaid.)

B: Hired people experienced in musicals. Maybe the people who wrote the songs for Wicked, Hadestown or Hazbin Hotel?

Magnifico needing a book to be evil

The biggest problem this movie has is that it couldn`t decide if Magnifico should be a redeemable, three dimensional antagonist or a classic Disney Villain, so it did both and the results were underwhelming.

I would have made him a twist villain, but instead of waiting for the third act I would reveal it near the end of the first. He would be a charismatic leader, great at fooling people that he has their best interests at heart. In the end, his paranoia would get the better of him.

To Starboy or not to Starboy, that is the question.

At first I wasn`t gonna bother with the whole Starboy thing since it`s not really an issue. The movie`s biggest problem lies in how they wrote King Magnifico. However, a while ago I saw a video on youtube by ColeyDoesThings who talked about what the movie could have been if they had gone the Starboy route, and she made some compelling arguments. So for this rewrite I`ve decided to go with the Starboy idea.

Starboy`s personality could be a lot like Aladdin, a little bit like Peter Pan with a pinch of Ariel. (Why Ariel? Because similar to her, he wants to be where the people are, he wants to see, wants to see 'em dancin'. You know, all that stuff.) He would be a bit of a contrast to Asha.

I did not change Star becase I thought it was necessary, but because I thought it sounded interesting.

I would also make Hal and Bazeema gay and have them kiss eachother in the end.

Plot

Asha prepares to interview for the job of Magnifico's apprentice on the day of her grandfather Sabino's 100th birthday.

When Asha is around, her mother and Saba put on a happy face for her, when she leaves they become a bit apathetic. This is something that many people in Rosas over the age of 18 (who have had their wishes taken) do.

She leads tourists through the town as she sings about what an amazing place it is and what an awesome king they have in "Welcome to Rosas". She rehearses for her job interview with her friends,

There are three wishes that the king refuses to grant:

Wishes about killing people.

Wishes about making someone fall in in love with someone else.

Wishes about bringing people back from the dead.

If you wish to become a magician you`ll have to become the king`s apprentice (and you don`t have to be 18.)

Queen Amaya shows up and takes Asha to Magnifico. At first it goes a little shaky because she`s nervous but then it goes well and Magnifico thinks she is worthy to be his apprentice.

They sing a duet, but not "At all cost". It is a song about optimism and ambition, about what a great student/mentor team they`ll make. The chorus could go:

Magnifico: "With you as my student!"

Asha: "With you as my guide!"

Both: "Great things will happen with you by my side!"

Something like that.

The interview is over and Asha leaves Magnifico`s study.

She is excited. She gets to work with the king! The most awesome king in the world! She does a dorky little victory dance. Valentino shows up, he snuck into the castle with her. Asha starts chasing him, she doesn`t want him to break something expensive, she really wants this job!

Valentino sneaks in through a door to a big (and probably forbidden) room and knocks down an ancient scroll. Asha picks up the scroll to put it back where it was, then she notices the title: How to remove someone`s wish.

Remove? The king grants wishes, he doesn`t take them!

She tries to convince herself not to read it, it`s not meant for her eyes, it`s classified, but her curiosity gets the better of her. She reads in the scroll that the spell should not be used on people under the age of 18. The individual who has had their wish removed becomes docile and free of aspirations, and in some rare cases, even lethargic (just like Simon). They will feel like something is missing from their life but are not able to put their finger on what.

She refuses to believe this. This can`t be true! Magnifico wouldn`t do something like this! He`s a good king!... Right? There are magical orbs of light floating in the ceiling, she takes a ladder and climbs up so that she can get a better look at them. One of the orbs shows a woman that wishes she could fly, another a woman who wishes to sail the seas, another a man who wishes to climb a muntain, and one of the orbs shows... her Saba! It is true, the king takes peoples wishes from them!

She climbs down, puts the scroll back and leaves the room quietly with Valentino under her arm.

She`s about to leave the castle through the main gate when Magnifico shows up. He tells her that there will be a wish-granting ceremony later that evening and he wants her to be present. Asha is nervous, but not a "OMG! I`m meeting my hero!" kind of nervous, but a "Hope he doesn`t figure out that I went into a forbidden room and saw things I shouldn`t have seen" kind of nervous. He seems not to notice, but at soon as Asha leaves the room we see that he did.

Later that evening there`s a wish-granting ceremony, a woman gets her wish granted, the people cheer for Magnifico and Asha sits there next to the queen, stiff and nervous.

Later that night: Asha tries to tell her family the truth about Magnifico, but they don`t believe her. Distraught, Asha runs away and makes her own wish on a star as she sings "This wish". (Not a bad song, but it could have used better lyrics in some places.)

Starboy appears and surprises Asha who smacks him with her sketch-book. (Meet-cute!)

Magnifico senses Starboy's arrival and sees it as a threat to his power.

Starboy doesn`t really grant wishes per se. He`s only as helpful as giving the means, but it’s up to the wishmaker to put the work in order to have their wish fulfilled.

Starboy's magic brings the forest to life, giving voices to the animals, plants and Valentino. They sing "I`m a star", but with better lyrics. (No "we're all shareholders" or "Get that through your system. Solar!") Asha, Valentino, and Starboy embark on a mission to recover Sabino's wish. She wants to save all the wishes, but if she can only save one she`ll have to focus on Sabino`s.

Tension rises in Rosas, Magnifico makes a public appearence and promises a great reward for any information relating to the strange light phenomenon. This makes Simon react. The residents of Rosas begin questioning his rule for the first time. Magnifico gets uncomfortable, leaves and sings "This is the thanks I get" (But sinister, not upbeat, and no "I let you live here fo free and I don't even charge you rent"). Asha and Starboy takes not only Sabino`s wish but a few other wishes as well and uses Starboy`s cape as a sack.

Asha returns Sabino's wish and he is overjoyed to have his memories back and sings "A wish worth making", playing his lute. They get ready to take the sack with the other wishes and return them to their rightful owners when King Magnifico bursts into the family's home. He has been informed by a mole that Asha was responsible for Starboy's arrival. He crushes Sakina's wish as punishment, rendering her overcome with grief. Starboy tries to defend her and is spotted by Magnifico, who vows to capture him. Asha and her family flee with Starboy. Sakina can barely stand after what Magnifico did to her wish, so Starboy uses his magic to give her the strength to walk. In all the chaos they unfortunately leave the other wishes in their home, Magnifico takes them as his own. Sabino and Sakima hide somewhere safe while Asha goes back to Rosas to free the rest of the wishes.

Later, in Magnifico`s study: Simon enters and feels bad for selling out his friend, King Magnifico tells him that what he did was necessary for the safety of the kingdom and that Asha won`t be hurt. He turns Simon into a knight, not in a public wish-granting ceremony though, but right there in his study.

Later, a brainwashed Simon is walking the streets with the company of other knights, searching for Asha and the rest of her friends. Asha sees him and looks for a place to hide. She finds her friends` hideout, not because of Valentino`s butt, but because of his sense of smell. She rallies the rest of her friends, Queen Amaya shows up and joins them.

Asha and her friends start making a plan.

Later, in King Magnifico`s secret lab: King Magnifico has made a staff, Amaya shows up and tells him what Asha and her friends are planning.

Gasp! Queen Amaya is a villain! (Dun dun dunn!)

She and Magnifico sing an evil duet villain song which is kinda similar to "With you by my side".

Asha`s friends infiltrate Magnifico's study to open up the ceiling and free the wishes while Asha plans to distract Magnifico. She and Starboy hides in the woods, she is nervous, Starboy tries to comfort her, so they talk a little. The talking leads to feelings being revealed which leads to singing. They sing "At all costs" and dance a romantic dance, first on the surface of a lake, then high up in the sky. (Thanks to Starboy`s magic.) Starboy gives Asha a magic wand to use as he leaves to help her friends, he then notices that he is getting weaker. Magnifico arrives, he and Asha fights. Magnifico turns out to be Simon disguised with an illusion and he breaks Asha`s wand, Asha finds a way to knock him out using the environment to her advantage.

Her friends almost free the wishes but are betrayed by Queen Amaya. Starboy tries to stop her but she pulls out a dagger and threatens to kill one of Asha`s friends, Magnifico shows up and zaps Starboy with magical chains that he can`t break free from.

Asha returns to the city, is caught by Magnifico, finds Starboy in magical chains and finds out that Queen Amaya was just a mole. Magnifico darkens the sky with clouds so that the people won`t be able to wish on stars.

Asha (to Magnifico): "I believed in you! I thought you were a good king!"

Magnifico: "I`m not a good king. I`m a GREAT king!"

All hope seems lost, Asha starts to sing the reprise to "This wish", her friends and the people of Rosas join her and their singing makes Starboy strong enough to break free from his chains. The breaking of the chains creates a shockwave that knocks Asha, Amaya and Magnifico off the tower. Starboy, still weakened, only has enough strength to save one of them, so he saves Asha.

With Magnifico defeated, his spell powers down as a new day dawns over the kingdom, with the citizens, Asha's mother included, are able to get their wishes back, afterwards, Asha is soon confronted by a regretful Simon, who understands if she doesn`t want to forgive him, but she does as she understands why he did it.

Starboy keeps getting weaker and has to go back, he gives Asha a new wand and the two of them say good bye. She wonders if she`ll ever see him again, he tells her that he`ll be the second star to the right.

With urging from her friends, Asha promises to help others earn their wishes as a Fairy Godmother, aiding everyone in making their dreams come true.

Post-credit scene: One year later: Asha is walking to the wishing tree in her fairy godmother outfit. She walks past a grave stone. Sabino is sitting in the tree playing "When you wish upon a star" on his lute. A tear rolls down Asha`s cheek. After Sabino has played the song he disappears as if he was a ghost. We see that the grave stone that Asha walked past earlier was Sabino`s. She wipes away her tear, looks up at the second star to the right, takes out her wand and teleports to some place where she might be needed.

And that`s how I would do it. Not great but hopefully not bad.

I cut "Knowing what I know now" because it was getting a little tight between songs. It would be hard to fit that song, Magnifico and Amaya`s villain song and "At all costs" so close to each other, while still maintaining a good narrative flow.

At first I wasn`t gonna turn Queen Amaya evil because I couldn`t come up with enough evil stuff for her to do (that I could fit into the plot without making it worse). But then I made her a villain because it would make things harder for Asha and her friends, which would make the movie more interesting.

But like I said before, the movie`s biggest problem is not that the Queen wasn`t evil, but that the writers couldn`t pick a lane when deciding if they wanted to make Magnifico a three-dimensional antagonist or a classic Disney Villain.

And now... a Bonus

One more thing about Frozen 2

Turning Kristoff`s Lost in the woods into a cheesy 1980s rock ballad musicvideo

I was gonna have this in my Frozen 2 CC but forgot and didn`t remember until after I published it. Since I don`t wanna go back and edit it I`ll write it here.

This scene is admittedly entertaining and if you don`t care about tone as long as it`s entertaining it`s fine.

But funny songs works better for funny characters and what Kristoff is singing about feels sincere, which clashes with how the song is executed.

The 1980s rock sound: Lose it.

The visuals: Have Kristoff walking around in the woods, seeing things that, to him, looks like Anna: a pile of rocks, a pile of leaves, a cloud in the sky. Stuff like that.

Probably an unpopular opinion.

It is of course very easy for me to write these because I have the luxury of hindsight. And unlike the filmmakers I didn`t have a movie studio full of corporate suits breathing down my neck, focus grouping the movie to death, forcing in unnecessary changes and pressuring me to get it made before a deadline.

Why do I write these?

For several reasons. I`m nitpicky. Sometimes the movies I criticize aren`t bad, I just like my own ideas better. Sometimes the movies I critize are bad. I care about good storytelling and it`s a fun excerize in creativity and script doctoring.

But also because I have a lot of of free time.

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Other movies on my Constructive Criticism list that you can look forward to

Supergirl (1984) Jonah Hex (2010) Dragonball evolution The Spirit (2008) The Dark Knight trilogy

And as usual: English is not my first language, so if my writing doesn`t seem to flow naturally, you know why.

#editorial #constructive criticism #written stuff #disney #raya and the last dragon #disney wish #wish rewrite #wish reimagined #81scorp

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