#this week is for being numb enough to reminisce

[joocomics]

ಬ different kind of normal

pairing: idol!taehyun x fem!reader

genre: angst, smut — mdni! wc: 1.7k

contains: situationship, reunion sex, sub!reader, slight hint of dumbification, slight dacryphilia, unprotected sex, dirty talk, pet names, reader is emotional and cries during sex, not a happy ending (?)

a/n: this has been sitting in the drafts since august and it’s finally seeing the light of day. cannot believe such angsty smut is happening on joocomics, tbh i don’t think i’ll be writing anything similar anytime soon phew it was tricky and i realised that i need my happy endings. but i wanted to try smth new, i really hope you enjoy it </3 sometimes you just need a kim taehyun to numb your emotions

You go down the familiar stairs and walk into the bar. It’s loud, lit by the usual dim yellow-ish lights, the scent of alcohol and skin is covering every corner, wrapping around your silhouette.

Your eyes observe the place to search for him and it doesn’t take long to find him - he’s sitting on your usual spot which is distanced from every other table; it feels intimate and secluded.

None of the people who visit this bar know who he is, nor do they know you, and sitting on this specific table every time you see each other only enhances the feeling you get in these moments - like you and him are the only people existing in this place and time.

“Taehyun,” you greet him at once.

You haven’t said his name out loud in so long. You’re not allowed to talk about him to anyone; not that you want to anyway, you want to keep him to yourself though it feels nice to be able to roll it off your tongue again. It feels freeing, especially in his presence.

Maybe he missed hearing his name in your voice, because his eyes smile at the sound before he even turns to face you. The letters ring nicely, like his name is something he can feel caressing his skin when you’re the one saying it.

“You’re here.” He automatically leans forward after you sit down next to him; the usual gravitational force that always pulls you together is another thing he was anticipating to experience again.

His one arm goes over your shoulders and the sudden warmth enveloping you makes your knees weak. The truth is, they were already weak from the steps you had to take to reach your table, but now they feel like they’re about to melt.

Being so close to him months later feels like it’s your first date all over again. You hate it and love it all at the same time.

“I just ordered your favorite,” he says and you can hear the slight note of pride in his smooth voice.

His hair is covered from a black cap which he eventually takes off before running a hand through his hair; it grabs your attention with a new color that you haven’t seen him with in person before.

You point out the obvious fact about how he still remembers your order as you take a minute to observe the attractive features that make up the face you learned to love.

“Of course I do,” he simply replies, leaning in for a kiss.

The first kiss after three and a half months. It feels so exciting and electrifying, just like the very first one you had a year ago, but at the same time it feels familiar too - like you’re reminiscing on a comforting memory you haven’t looked back on for a while.

His hand slides up your thigh, then travels up your hip only to sneak in discreetly beneath your shirt, sending you pleasant shockwaves. Soon enough he breaks the kiss though, careful not to bring any unnecessary attention on you.

“Next month I’m gonna have a week off.” Taehyun speaks up after a moment of silence between the two of you. After a sip of his beer, he continues: “I was thinking that you can come visit me if you want.”

Yes… Yes. You do. You want to scream it out loud. But the only thing you do is breathe in, staring inside the cup of your cocktail; trying to force yourself to speak before your mind turns blank.

“You don’t need to worry about money,” he adds as he shifts his gaze to you, hopeful and anticipating of your response. “It’s all on me, baby.”

There it is - the reminder you needed before giving any answers. His money, his fame. His life that’s so unfitting to yours. The pink balloon you found yourself in for a moment as he shared about his plan, tempting you to naively build dreams about your one week together, it pops, and brings you back to the harsh reality.

“Tae…” You shake head, “no matter what we do or tell each other we can’t be normal.”

Taehyun’s brows furrow at your choice of word.

Normal.

“This has to end at some point, I don’t think we should complicate things any further… as we’ve already said before.” You exhale deeply after blurting out the things you’ve been practicing on your way here. He didn’t hear the sound that escaped your lips because of the music mixed with the chatter, but if he did, he’d have known that saying all of this cost you an immense amount of energy.

You don’t glance at him even once, but Taehyun on the other hand can’t stop staring at you like he’s in some sort of a bad dream that’ll end soon if he’s patient enough.

“Right, right…” He nods, finally able to force his eyes somewhere else. He peers down at his hands on the table that begin to tap nervously at the wooden surface, sharing almost the same rhythm as his heartbeat. “You’re right, that’s the wisest thing to do.”

You know it is, but hearing him agree turns out to be more painful than you expect.

For the best, this has to end soon, you remind yourself. Maybe not tonight, but tomorrow.

“I missed you,” Taehyun rises your body temperature through raspy whispers and open mouthed kisses which he scatters onto your skin almost in a rush; as if you’re going to disappear from his hands if he dares to slow down. “Missed you so fuckin’ much...”

His soft lips trace a path from your neck down to your cleavage and soon enough he’s even lower, running his tongue against your stomach before kissing that area sensually too. The slight moisture slipping from the corners of his mouth in addition to the delicate sucks makes you shudder as he simultaneously tugs on your underwear.

“Missed this sweet pussy too,” he invites his fingers into your walls effortlessly. His gaze focuses upon your lips and how they open for a silent gasp as he glides through with ease because of your already collected arousal. “Did she miss me?”

While anticipating an answer, Taehyun swirls his tongue inside his mouth before letting a string of saliva fall right onto your clit; he smears it all over your folds, provoking your thighs to open even wider for him.

“Tae—“ You arch spine, emphasising your need for something more than this lingering rush that’s growing in a pace that’s not quite enough for how much you ache for his touch right now. “Please…”

“I think she did.” A lustful spark shimmers in his eyes as his hand maintains its delicate motions. The movements make you moan every time his fingertips reach your sensitive bundle of nerves before slipping back down again. “Say it.”

At once he meets your eyes as his frame eventually hovers over your naked flushed body.

Your hands relax on his broad shoulders as your focus fixates on his face. Hopefully there’s not as much pain into your eyes as there is in your heart in this moment. You don’t want him to know how much exactly you’re actually hurting.

“I missed you every day,” you whisper softly as your noses touch; your mouths search for each other, thirsty for the other’s taste even more now. When you feel his hand guiding his cock to your entrance your breathing catches, but you still manage to repeat it. “Of course, I missed you.”

The second he hears your words, Taehyun crashes his lips against your mouth. Because he cannot bare hearing this one more time or because he enjoys the sound of it too much - he’s not able to tell.

As he leads the kiss swiftly your legs wrap loosely around his hips and your warm walls immediately squeeze onto him as he quickens the pace, eager to make up for all the time you were away from each other.

“Fuck—“ He grunts at the growing pleasure that he reminisced about night after night before breathing out against your neck: “Finally… I swear to god nobody else can make me feel this way.”

His voice, husky and domineering despite his on going confessions, echoes in your fuzzy mind. Although you shouldn’t, you put in all the effort you can into memorising each word he says; you hold onto it tightly as the continuous thrusts gradually turn more rigid and sharp causing your nails to sink into his shoulder blades. However, as amazing the buzzing sweet wave inside you feels, you cannot suppress the sadness that’s about to overpower you first.

You swallow another failed attempt to fight back the bitter emotion, but you can feel it lingering everywhere - in your heart, inside your stomach, on your tongue once he slows down his hips to grip your face, and inside your throat that feels like it’s closing up.

“Why are you crying?”

Taehyun peers into your eyes that are sparkling at him with a bittersweet emotion which he hasn’t gotten used to seeing inside them. His gaze lowers to your puffy lips, trembling as they separate with hesitation.

“I… I don’t know what’s gotten to me, sorry,” your arms wrap tighter to pull him closer. His thumb caressing your wet cheek only makes it worse for you. “Please, k-keep going.”

“Sweetheart,” he whispers under his breath as he fulfills your wish by resuming his thrusts - more forcefully though to distract you from the sorrow, “I’ll make it go away now, okay? Focus on me, baby.”

You grasp his shoulders while the delight starts to numb your mind with each intense push of his cock. The hits against your sweet spot are fast and strong enough to weaken your memory right away.

“There you go,” Taehyun’s pants blend with your whimpers ringing beneath him as the tears on your skin begin to dry. “Such pretty eyes, look at me, love.”

Something about seeing you cry for the first time made his heart clench, and now his mind fogs up, leaving him with only one goal - to make you cum as many times as possible so you can’t think of anything for the rest of the night.

Right now, he’d erase every single thought from your brain if he knows he’s capable of doing so.

The moment he feels you’re tightening up Taehyun’s eyes open so he doesn’t miss out on one flinch of yours.

“Yeah, I’m here, baby,” he murmus, trying to keep moving forward while your peak lasts, causing you to quiver beneath his frame. “Let go, baby, I’m right here.”

Yes, he’s here, and tomorrow morning he’s still going to be here, but you’ll be gone, because this time if he tries to stop you like all the previous times, you’re not going to look back.

But for now, you and Taehyun are close as you’ve never been before.

! please do not repost, copy or translate my works

! please keep in mind that english is not my first language. i apologise for any mistakes i’ve might missed

[msviolacea]

Thoughts on a very strange week. tw for discussion of death inside, mostly just introspection and babbling here.

It's still mostly unreal. You don't expect someone in their mid-40s to just drop dead at home. She had some fairly serious health issues, but it felt more like the "here are some really sucky things you'll have to live with for the next few decades," not ... this.

I knew Janine for what is, this year, exactly half of my life. Fandom brought us together, but after I recommended her for a job at the dysfunctional old office, that turned into more than two decades of professional camaraderie on top of friendship. I hadn't been as close to her as I was after we both left the old job, even after she ended up working at my new job, but by that point she felt like extended family. Someone who's always there, who you can pick up with at any point, who remembers all your weird family bullshit and strange personal quirks.

We always had music in common - music brought us together, and music ended up being the way we interacted outside of work more often than not. The last time I spent any time out of the office with her was last year, when she called and offered me her spare Matt Nathanson ticket, so we went and spent a Saturday afternoon singing and laughing at that new-ish venue up by the Twins stadium, then hanging out on the sidewalk afterwards for an hour, just catching up on all the things you don't talk about at work. I told her that she needed to come see our new house. She said that she'd love to, if the transportation worked out. (Her retinopathy was slowly stealing her eyesight, and had gotten to the point where she didn't feel comfortable driving in anything less than good light.)

She wasn't in the best friend tier, but she was in the family tier. And losing her feels like this weird numb void right now.

They did an informal gathering at the office yesterday, and I'm glad I went, because it showed me how much of an effect she'd had, now that she was in a department that allowed her to shine at the things she was good at. There's a whole cadre of 20-something research coordinators who just lost their "work mom," and are devastated. She knew who coached their old high school sports team, who watched the same reality TV as she did, who had medical issues that needed tending and who had kids getting over the latest school virus. She fussed over everyone, laughed with everyone, and was everyone's most enthusiastic cheerleader. (Everyone except herself, that is.) She entertained everyone with tales of her nieces and nephews and great-nieces and great-nephews, gossip and drama from the community theater troupe she worked with, and stories about her trips to visit friends and see concerts across the country.

She wasn't always cheerful. She had family issues, like many of us, and she never did find someone to share her life with and have kids with the way she wanted. She was high-strung when contending with the unknown in her professional life, though it seems that improved at least a bit in her current role - we all improved once we were out of that shitty office with its mold and self-important nurses who never left high school gossip behind. She was complicated and sometimes frustrating, but she had so much love to give everyone, and the enthusiasm to share that love wherever she went.

But now she's gone. And the world is a little dimmer for it.

After yesterday's gathering, I'm taking two life lessons away, things I'm going to work hard to remind myself of and put into practice in my own life. One, do the things you want to do, the things that are important to you, now. There's never enough time, and you don't know when yours will end. And two, expressing your interest in someone else's life is never the wrong move. There are sometimes when you live too much here on the internet where people try to convince you that reaching out to others is actually an imposition, because there's a weird philosophy that the only polite thing to do in this world is to leave everyone alone until they explicitly say they're interested in you. But that's bullshit. I sat there yesterday and listened to a bunch of people who were so, so grateful that Janine had made herself a part of their lives, large or small, and will remember her kindness and attention in some way for a very, very long time to come. Hell, I'm one of them. And to honor her, I'm going to try to come out of my introvert shell just a tiny bit more and try to be that light to someone else more often, when I have an extra spoon or two to spare.

I feel very odd this week. Odd, and emotionally drained, and not quite all mentally here. Death isn't a stranger to me, but that doesn't mean it doesn't punch me in the gut every time it comes calling.

Anyway. If you read this far, do me a favor - go listen to your favorite 80s or 90s boy band, or your favorite Broadway musical (especially Wicked), or your favorite boy-with-guitar singer-songwriter, and send a thought out into the universe for a woman you probably never met, but who deserves to be remembered anyway, even if it's just for the length of a song.

[schoenpepper]

How about for our early xmas gift, you give us a version where Yuu comes back to twst again🙂

(You broke my heart po💔)

Maybe This Time

Intro: Everything changed after you left. But maybe he still stayed the same.

Warnings: bad grammar, awful writing, not proofread, jade is veryy bad, kinda yandere ish

A/N: Counted as a sequel to this, though you can probably read it as a standalone. Sige na nga anonnie merry xmas happy new year nlng sayo haha. Maybe this tiiiime it'll be lovin' they'll find—*gets shot*

Masterlist

Jade forgets what it's like to live.

The day you left, all color drained from the world he resides in. Rather, your absence pushed him from being an active participant into one that only watches.

Still, it only takes him a day to get back to work.

"You can take a longer break."

He waves off Azul with such a well-practiced smile even he might believe it. "I don't need a break. What is it for, even? There's no use reminiscing over such boring things."

Boring.

Boring boring boring.

The word makes him livid. It makes him seethe with a burning, passionate anger he was unaware was even stored within him. Maybe that's why you left. Maybe Jade failed to excite you. He and his brother are people that stay because of interest, so perhaps the reason you left was because Jade could no longer interest you. Is that it?

Why else?

Why else would you shatter him the first chance that you get?

It takes him one week to forget.

Not you. Sevens know he'll never forget you. You were a whirlwind that crashed through everything he knew and smashed him to smithereens. It takes him a week to forget that he's still hiding his pain.

He forgets he's in pain.

You're a rotting, festering wound that he's buried under layers of pretend. He's such a good actor even Floyd is—

"Stop cryin'."

Well. Maybe not Floyd. Jade raises a hand to his cheek and finds no tears. "You weren't crying. But I made you look, right?" Floyd grins, "Hurry and pack. Maybe nonna can help you get over shrimpy. She's real good at life advice~"

He's sure life advice won't help, but it wouldn't hurt (any more) to try.

The waters of the Coral Sea are frigid. It doesn't numb him enough when he's so used to it, but it's alright. He's fine, anyway. There's no more regret. No more bitter hatred. Only the familiar salt of the ocean water. His parents mean well when they fret over him, asking his twin brother for details. His grandmother is worriedly chattering over his shoulder, and he's made aware that he's unable to fool them this time. He's good at pretending. His family couldn't pick out his faux smiles when he's entangled in mischief, nor could they identify the mock innocence he likes to act out when he gets into fights with other mer. But now, why now? Why are they able to press their hand on that beating, dead thing in his chest and attempt to comfort it when the only thing it wants to do is wallow and wither in nothingness?

They couldn't tell when he was pretending to be good.

But they can tell that he's pretending to be okay.

It doesn't make sense.

It takes one month for everything to fall back in routine. Sleeping potions and pills and spells aid in nights when he's preoccupied with memories of a person he wished never existed at all.

His grades are higher than they'd ever been, and he's so ridiculously productive. It's all on track. Everything is just as it was before you. There was a time in his life before you. He can fill in the empty spot you'd left behind with dirt and the pieces of himself you'd killed that fateful day.

And thus, there will be a time after you.

"Jade," Azul hands him a familiar plush toy, "Floyd told me to give this back to you."

The felt shrimp plushie is mocking him; there is no other explanation. It's one half of a pair, actually. In some dingy arcade in town was a claw machine filled with small mushroom, shrimp, egg, onion, and garlic plushies. The owner called the machine "shrimp fried crane game". You were the one to win one mushroom plushie you kept for yourself, and you gave him the shrimp.

The mushroom was in your suitcase.

In his rampage (he wouldn't call it that, really), he had destroyed everything that reminded him of you that same night, or rather, early morning. He watched polaroids and love letters burn inside a metal dumpster he'd hauled from school grounds. The shrimp wasn't part of the bonfire.

It seems Floyd had snuck it away.

He inspects the toy with his usual smile, tight-lipped and close-eyed, nodding at Azul. He wants it out of his sight for a long, long time. If it could feel as forgotten as he felt, let those feelings be transferred to you. He wishes you pain and agony and guilt and regret.

It takes one year for him to let out a genuine chuckle.

His twin brother stares at him like he'd grown a second head, and Jade is aware it's unusual. Even though the joke he'd laughed at was so inane, the fact of the matter was that he laughed, which in itself is so strange. Perhaps this is a good thing. No, it can only be a good thing. What is it if not a sign that he's healing?

And soon, he won't remember you at all.

And you will cease to exist in his mind.

But it's not meant to happen today.

No, with that little laugh, grief like several tonnes of cement hit him right where it hurts the most; it's heavy, and debilitating, and it makes it nigh impossible for him to even breathe.

(Because you were the air he once consumed, and neither humans nor mer are made for such long term suffocation.)

"I've never seen you laugh before," the young man in front of him smiles with thick, syrupy lovesickness, "it suits you."

The person is an underclassman who'd been following him around recently. Like a poor mockup of your silhouette, he hears the same promises you couldn't keep from the mouth of another. It irks him more than he'd like to admit, because if he does, then it means admitting that he still remembers you. It means he still holds you up in his altar and lights flames in your name.

He does not.

Whoever says otherwise, whether it be Floyd or Azul, or Silver or Riddle; they all lie.

He only remembers you in anger. In bouts of madness that makes him question your existence, it is then that your name leaves his lips.

It takes one decade.

For what?

For forgiveness? For the hate to fade?

On his 27th birthday, his phone rings with a number he's long since engraved in his heart.

Jade forgot how to live in your absence.

In the decade you'd left, he only existed. It is a passive state of consistent routine that allows him to appear normal to his peers. Still, his closest people know he was left incomplete. He became a creature without a sense of purpose, and it was a sad thing. How pitiful it was for a predator to be reduced to a vessel containing shards of a broken heart.

Still, it is your name that he finds. It is your number.

A number from a phone kept in some dark corner of NRC's storage room. It's likely a student who decided to scroll through your contacts and found his contact name amusing. You did have quite the strange penchant for putting strange names in your contact list.

He answers the call in a moment of boredom.

There is nothing interesting to do in a business party.

"Hello? Jade?"

He stops. There is nothing in this world or yours that could erase each and every memory he's ever made with you. The voice is one he's heard often and dreams and even more in nightmares; it has replaced the voice of his dead conscience and pushed him to a meaningless drifting existence instead of finding thrill in things you would despise him for.

It's been a decade and instead of forgetting you, he didn't know when he melded you into his bones and stitched you into the fabric of his soul, but he knows you more than he knows himself.

"I'm back."

There is no more bitter hatred. There is no more regret.

"Can you pick me up?"

In one moment, it all dissipates into nothingness and there is only you.

Jade remembers how to breathe again. He feels that withered thing in his chest beat once more, and he feels alive.

It takes one decade for you to return.

And he didn't know he was waiting for you, but then, what could every second without you have meant if not just an endless eternity of patiently waiting?

"Did you see my message?"

"I did."

"Are you not afraid I'll make good on my promise?"

"I've never been afraid of you."

Yet, perhaps you should be. He may no longer despise you with every fiber of his being, but you'd betrayed him and lost his trust. There will be no more second chances. You will stay unlike before, and if he must break every mirror in the world to ensure his heart remains beating, then it will be all too easy.

Taglist:

@yummyyummyinmytumny @lemon-koii @fsh1

[jedi-hawkins]

Raining Flowers

The Clones all deserve flowers! Or maybe they think you deserve flowers 😉 Either way, love is in bloom this week for the Clone Flowers Fic Event!

Throughout this week, May 20th-25th, certain participants will be posting their own fics of Clones and different flower themes that were selected! The participants as well as the Clones and flowers they will be writing for are listed below and links to each fic will be added as they are posted! 💐 Follow the tag #cloneflowerficevent to see them all as they come!!

Event Masterlist

@arctrooper69 - Tup, Rex, Gregor @photogirl894 - Hunter, Wrecker, Fives @nahoney22 - Fox, Tech @totallyunidentified - 99, Cody @dragonrider9905 - Hardcase @l-lend - Wolffe @moonstrider9904 - Howzer @eyecandyeoz - Waxer

Make sure to go check out their entries too, we'll be posting throughout the week!

Pairing: Echo x fem Jedi!reader

Chosen Flower: Cherry Blossoms

Word count: 3.7k

Rating: PG-13

Warnings/Notes: Mentions of death, mourning, disordered eating/recovery, nightmares, all canon trauma related to Echo's Techno Union arc, suggestive fluff, some swearing, reader has hair, friends (idiots) to lovers, mutual pining, a bit of angst

Beta-read by @photogirl894

As a Jedi Master you’re always being run hither and yon throughout the galaxy. Your most recent assignment has you on Naboo as head of security for a symposium of senators. Your squad of support troopers is set to arrive later today. 

You have to admit, you’re a little nervous. The squad that’s being sent is Clone Force 99. You’ve worked with them before and get along with them well enough, but the thought of their newest member is what’s making your stomach churn.

Echo. You knew him before the mission that killed him, before he was even recruited for the 501st. He was your closest friend and confidant. After his valiant efforts on the Rishi Moon Outpost he was stationed on your Venator. You quickly recognized his skill for strategy and recruited him as your personal tactics advisor along with his twin, Fives. No matter how bad of a day you had, dinner and a walk with Echo always lifted your spirits. 

Then Rex had to steal your Domino twins from you. You were so proud of them and you knew Anakin was gaining two of the best soldiers you’d ever seen, but you were still sad to see them go. You still kept in touch with Echo, you could always count on at least one holocall a week. You’d just fill each other in on the happenings in your lives, brainstorm war issues that were giving you trouble, talk about everything and nothing all at once. You were able to see him a couple times when you were sent to work with the 501st and it was always like no time had passed.

Then the Citadel happened.

You didn’t let anyone see you cry for him. A Jedi mourning a single clone? It felt like not many would understand, and the war was still raging. You had to move on with your head held high, and yet you were numb for months.

Fives kept in touch with you, you offered your condolences, but held it together for him. The two of you would share a holocall every month or so to catch up and reminisce in memories of Echo but it still wasn’t quite the same. Even though your best friend was gone, you found yourself talking to him under your breath about your day, just like those weekly holocalls. 

Eventually the pain faded to just a dull ache in the background. Then Fives went rogue and was ‘decommissioned’ as the report put it. The last tie you had to Echo was gone. The Chancellor held that report under lock and key, so once again you mourned one of your Domino Twins with little comfort. 

The numbness took over again, but this time it didn’t linger for quite as long. Just when you got to the point that memories of Echo and Fives  brought happy tears, you got the comm from Anakin. They found Echo. 

The guilt nearly swallowed you whole. Echo had been alive this whole time and you didn’t know. They mounted a rescue for him and you weren’t told. His recovery happened and you weren’t there. Today would be the first time you’d seen or spoken to him since your last holocall before the Citadel. You couldn’t help but wonder, ‘Why hadn’t he reached out to you before now?’ 

You had kept to yourself partly because you were being run into the ground by the Council, but also because you wanted to give him space. You weren’t sure he even remembered you. Would he still be your Echo? 

Rex knew what Echo had meant to you and commed directly after they rescued him to fill you in more than Anakin had. He didn’t reveal much more, but he had let you know that the Techno Union did things to him. That he looked different, that he was found with a lot of integrated mechanics. That was months ago, and you hadn’t heard much since. 

So here you were, anxiously wringing your hands awaiting the arrival of Squad 99. 

You recognize their ship as they land, thankfully they scrubbed their nose art off before this mission. Probably with some convincing from Anakin. The ramp lowers and Sergeant Hunter disembarks to meet you. 

You quickly run him through the plan for today. The symposium isn’t until tomorrow, but it is up to you to survey the venue to note ‘problem areas’ and make sure nothing is compromised. 

Hunter suggests that Wrecker and Crosshair pair off and that he’ll go with Tech. He gives you an all-knowing look when you do the math of who’s left. You’d mentioned Echo in passing before to Hunter while on missions. When he commed to debrief about this mission, he asked how you were and suddenly you were spilling nearly everything about your history with Echo. Hunter had assured you his squad was taking care of him and that your worries would stay between the two of you. 

“You two need the time to talk.” Hunter muttered, squeezing your shoulder and calling to his brothers. 

You’re left waiting at the bottom of the ramp for a few more minutes before a figure appears in the Marauder’s door. Your stomach drops at the sight of him. 

He looks so different. New metal legs shine in the sunlight, and a scomp link is where his right hand used to be. ‘No more double wielding,’  you think to yourself. His new armor is red and black, Batch colors. Your heart does warm at the sight of the kama he’s wearing, at least he hasn’t forgotten that he’s still an ARC. His new helmet is tucked under his scomp arm. 

His eyes brighten when he sees you. Mechanical studs for Maker knows what dot his scalp, but even though his skin is much paler and his face is sunken in, those are still the same amber eyes that you’ve sought comfort in so many times. 

Your voice is shaky at first. “E-Echo?”

Some color spreads across the bridge of his nose as he rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, d-different I know. You look good though.” 

You smile at his compliment and lead the way to the side of the venue you two will be surveying. At first you walk in silence, neither of you really sure how to bridge the gap between you. You want to ask him how he’s been, how his recovery went, explain how sorry you are for not being there, but the words keep getting stuck in your throat. 

You open your mouth to say something, but Echo beats you to it. “Do you still like roast bantha?” 

“Y-yeah?” You respond, a little taken aback by his odd question. “Why?”

He shrugs “Because I had some the other week and it was the first real meal I enjoyed since returning.” 

“It was my favorite, still is.” 

“I remember.” Echo gives you a sideways glance. “You can ask, I know you want to.” 

Of course he knew what you were thinking. You go back to wringing your hands. “I- I want to apologize first. I didn’t even know a rescue was happening, I should have been there but no one told me. I was off the grid on Taris.” 

Once the words start, they don’t stop. “Anakin commed me after they got you out but they didn’t let me see you on Coruscant. Then you were reassigned and I didn’t know where you were. I’m sorry I should have reached out, but I wanted to give you space. I didn’t know if you remembered me...” 

Echo stops you by resting his hand on your shoulder.. “It’s okay, really. You don’t need to apologize. I had a whole army of people fussing over me. I should have reached out, that was on me. I just didn’t know how you’d feel about all… this” He says gesturing to himself. 

“Oh Echo, no. I don’t care about that. I was just so worried, I just wanted you to be okay.” You say hurriedly. “Are you- are you okay?”

He nods, turning to start walking again. “I am, there’s been some adjustments but I’m getting used to it.” 

You tilt your head curiously, “Tell me about it. If you feel comfortable.” 

“Of course I feel comf-'' His words are cut off when he stumbles on the stone path beneath your feet. “Well that’s one thing. These damn legs. The Techno Union gave me some rudimentary ones, but these are much more complex. They’re heavier and made me a couple inches taller too. I probably looked like a newborn fathier for the first couple weeks.” 

You stifle a snicker and Echo notices. 

“You can laugh, really.” He reassures you. “I missed that laugh of yours. You always shared my sense of humor.” 

“Did they hurt?” You wonder aloud, glancing down at his metal thigh. 

He shrugs, “Nah, not really. They’re wired up so that I can feel some sensation of moving but I can’t really register touch, it’s more of a dull pressure. Sometimes I’ll get some weird feelings, like an ache or an itch in my leg that’s not there, Tech called it ‘phantom pains.’ The most annoying thing is that I always feel warm now from the mechanics in me.” 

Echo can see the curiosity glinting in your eyes. “Here.” He says, halting and propping his foot up on a nearby garden wall. He moves his kama out of the way before he gently takes your hand and presses your hand to his left thigh. 

You can feel the warmth under your palm. It’s not quite like the warmth from human skin, but it’s not like the warmth from a databank either. It reminds you of the warmth of your lightsaber, you can still feel Echo’s life force pulsing under your touch. 

“Incredible.” You mutter as he readjusts himself. “I remember you were always freezing before.” 

He chuckles. “Yeah, I suppose I was. I would always steal Fives’ blankets.”

Your heart pangs at the mention of Echo’s twin. “Rex told you, I assume?” 

“Yeah. He did.” Echo sighs. “Said something in his and Tup’s heads malfunctioned but couldn’t tell me much else. We had a little memorial for them.” 

“That’s nice. I wasn’t there when it happened, he and I talked about you a lot.” 

“I know he definitely would have had a few jokes about this.” Echo says waving his scomp link, trying to lighten the mood. 

Your brow scrunches. “I’m surprised Anakin didn’t offer to make you a hand like his.” 

“He did, I just thought I’d keep the scomp. Means we don’t have to lug around an astromec to get into places. I don’t mind it, it’s all right.” A sly smirk spreads across his face.

You groan at him. “Was that a kriffing joke?” You say, fully laughing at him. “You’re terrible. Fives would be proud.”

Echo’s laughter joins yours. “Yeah, he would’ve nearly pissed himself watching me figure this thing out. One morning I nearly took my eye out trying to rub it with this.” 

You cover your mouth and groan at the thought as Echo continues. 

“Another time I was enjoying some morning caf and leaned on the counter, only I forgot I didn’t have a hand anymore and the scomp slipped. Fell flat on my face and I smelled like caf all day.” 

Again, your laughter starts back up at the mental image. “The Batch, are they treating you well?” You ask between giggles. 

“They are.” Echo says with a nod. “They’ve really helped me through some of the rough parts.” 

“Oh?”

“Well of course Tech has helped me figure out the kinks of my new mechanics.” Echo shrugs. “But he also really helped me with speech. For a while my mind was a bit jumbled. My thoughts were broken with old battle strategies, the data Techno Union kept pulling. I would lose the word for something right before I said it, use the wrong word, misunderstand what someone was saying. Tech helped me realize that my brain had literally been damaged, rewired, and that it would take time to come back from that. When I didn’t have the words, he had them for me. Others may find his tendency to finish peoples’ sentences a bit annoying, but I was thankful for it. Saved me a lot of frustration when I was trying to communicate early on.” 

“I’ve always found that trait of his endearing.” You reply, not wanting to stunt Echo’s sharing. 

“And Hunter’s great too. It’s been kind of nice having someone else in charge. He talked to me about it, acknowledged that I had more wartime experience than him, but he knew I needed to take a step back and heal, not be the one with all the answers.”

You smile at his mention of the Sergeant’s intentions. “Hunter has a big heart, he sees a lot more than you’d think.” 

Echo nods. “He helped me with other things too. I sometimes get these electronic migraines. Tech thinks they happen when the mechanics in my head overstimulate the electrical activity of my brain but he couldn’t really figure out a solution. Hunter did though, since he gets migraines himself. Showed me his whole care routine to shorten them and ride it out.” 

Memories of the time you witnessed one of Hunter’s migraines make you wince. “I hope they’re not too bad.” 

“No, not with their help. The hardest thing to figure out was how to gain weight again.” 

“Really? I wouldn’t have guessed, I mean you look…” Your words are lost as you gesture to him. 

He gives you a sly look, but continues without comment. “Yeah. Food just wasn’t the same for me when I woke up. I don’t really understand the science behind it, but I wasn’t fed in Purkoll. They must have been giving me something but when I woke up I was emaciated and, I just didn’t have an interest in food. The appetite came back pretty quick as I started being more active, but I just couldn’t find stuff that made me want to eat. I mentioned the Bantha roast, that was Wrecker’s idea since he remembered you making it one time on mission. He’s been a big help in finding things I like. He also has this way of packing an insane amount of calories and protein into a meal. He was also pretty big in helping me regain muscle mass. Surprisingly, or maybe not, he was always the one to check in on me, make sure I wasn’t being pushed too hard.” 

You smile. “Wrecker is a sweetheart, and he does have a way with food. He can make those GAR ration packs taste better than anyone. He has a way with people too.” 

“His workouts are intense, though.” Echo jokes.

“Tell me about it.” You shake your head. “I hope Crosshair hasn’t given you too much trouble. He can be intense in a different way.” 

“Crosshair?” Echo repeats. “Nah, he’s okay. He gives me shit like he does everyone else. He was a nice change from all the doctors fussing over me. He didn’t look at me like I was fragile. He didn’t treat me like I was going to break at any second, even when he…” Echo trails off, but you can sense his thoughts. 

“You have nightmares don’t you.” You state gently. 

Echo nods. “One of the first nights I was with them I had this dream. I was back there in that city being taken apart and pieced back together again; having my mind played with. I’m pretty sure I was talking in my sleep, yelling more likely. When I woke up I saw Crosshair was on watch, but he had his back turned to me. He didn’t say anything the next day and neither did the others. I don’t know if they heard me because they’re all heavy sleepers, or if Crosshair told them not to say anything. I don’t know if he’s been doing it on purpose, but he always takes watch when it’s my turn to sleep. Whenever I’m napping too, he’s always there with his back to me. It helped with the dreams, knowing I had someone watching for me.” 

“Echo…” You mutter, unsure of what to say. You want to comfort him, but what could you do for him that his squad hasn’t already? He’s healing without you.

A breeze picks up before you find the words causing soft pink flowers to start raining down on the two of you from the trees above. You move to brush them out of your hair, but Echo’s hand wraps around your wrist to stop you. 

“No, leave them.” He says, “They’re pretty.” 

You bow your face to try to hide the warmth rising in your cheeks as Echo guides you to a nearby bench. 

“Sit with me for a moment?” His voice is timid.

“Of course.”

“You helped me too, you know.” Echo says, tracing his fingers over your palm. 

“How could I possibly have helped you?” You sigh, trying and failing at hiding the sadness in your voice. “I wasn’t there, haven’t been there.”

“But you have.” Echo insists. “It’s hard to explain, but in Purkoll I had these moments where it was almost like I was myself again. It was probably in the lulls when the Separatists weren’t accessing my memories. In those moments I talked to you, like we used to. I talked about my days, reminisced about the good times, funny memories. I think it’s what kept me from losing myself entirely. And when I woke up… I sort of kept doing it. The Batch is great, but they didn’t know me before, you know? They’ve never known me as anything other than this.” 

Echo gestures to himself with his scomp before continuing. “And Rex, he did, but staying with him felt like it would’ve been a step backwards. I needed to move on, but I didn’t want to forget who I was, you knew me better than anyone, even Fives. There were days when it felt like I would never recover, never be the elite soldier I once was. Those were the days I talked to you the most, imagined what you’d say back to me. In my mind you’d let me have my pity party, then tell me to get my ass in gear. I should’ve just commed you for the real conversation, but I was a coward. I was afraid that you’d look at me like I was broken, so I kept you in my head. I hope that’s not weird…”  He trails off.

You don’t even know what to say as your chest fills with awe. All this time, he’s been talking to you? 

Echo gently tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “These flowers suit you.” He says gently, filling the silence.

You glance up at the tree above you and hum to yourself. “They’re cherry blossoms. Fitting.” 

“How so?”

“They’re a symbol of rebirth and new beginnings.” You explain. “Echo, it’s not weird or cowardly that you’ve been talking to me. I’ve been doing the same actually. I thought about comming you every day after Anakin and Rex told me they found you, but I was so terrified you wouldn’t remember me.”

He gently grasps your chin with his thumb and forefinger to raise your eyes to his. “I could never forget you. You were the tether that kept me, me. I wish we hadn’t wasted time getting back in touch.” 

A light laugh passes through your nose. “Another lesson of the cherry blossoms. They bloom for only few days and remind us that life is fleeting.” 

“If life is fleeting, then I guess I should go ahead and do this.” Echo mutters before leaning towards you. 

He’s timid at first when your lips connect, but grows more bold as the seconds melt into minutes. You can feel his scomp arm pull you closer as his hand tousles in your hair. There’s a tiny voice in the back of your head chastising you, ‘Jedi cannot have selfish attachments.’ You immediately push it aside. 

This, the love you have for Echo is no selfish attachment. You already lost him once, you mourned him and never turned from the light. He was your light. Your confidence builds as his tongue begins to explore yours, the garden around you fading away. The feelings you both harbored for each other all these years are finally confessed without a single word being spoken. It’s just you.

You don’t even know how long you two have been tangled in each other when you can hear a faint beeping coming from Echo’s bracer. He must have heard it too because he breaks away from you with a grumble before answering the comm.

“Echo, go.” He answers.

‘Echo, it’s Hunter. We’ve all finished our surveillance and are back at the Marauder, what’s your status?” 

Echo’s eyes flit to you with your hand pressed over your mouth trying to keep from laughing. “We-uhhh got dis- duh… sah-sidetracked. Something suspicious we had to investigate.” 

From the tiny snicker Hunter lets slip you can tell he doesn’t buy it. ‘Alright, we’ll keep your rations warm. Will the General be joining us?’

“Sure Hunter, I’d love to.” You call before Echo can answer. 

‘Sounds like a plan. Don’t take too long or you’ll kiss- I mean miss dinner.’ 

“Womp-rat bastard.” Echo grumbles when Hunter ends the call. 

You nearly keel over with laughter at Hunter’s comment and the expression Echo has on his face. 

“I’m glad you find this amusing. How in Sith’s Hells did he even know?” He says, obviously trying to keep a straight face.

“Oh please.” You say, grinning. “Hunter’s literally enhanced to sense everything, he got us good. Come on,” you say, standing up. “Let’s finish our round so we can go eat.” 

Echo stands shaking his head, but he takes your hand and gestures further down the path. “After you, ner sarad.”

“That’s mando, I recognize it.” You say over your shoulder. “What does it mean?”

Echo smiles at you, his eyes, those same old eyes lighting up. “I'll tell you all about it.

[10piecechickennuggy]

Of pain and healing - Trafalgar Law x Fem!reader - Oneshot

WARNING: Mature content ahead.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own One Piece or the art featured above. This is a fan created work.

“Traffy.” Luffy’s expression was the most serious she’d ever seen. “Take good care of y/n.” 

What? 

After everything. After sailing together for six months. After being flung halfway across the world and reuniting at the war of the best. After having his own brother die in his arms, Luffy was leaving her with another captain for two years?

Their friends were scattered around the world, doing who knows what. They’d sent out the message to reconvene in two years at Sabaody, but she was here. She’d expected to stay with him. To train with him. To support him in any way she could. He was her captain. Her friend. Her nakama.

“Luffy!” Y/n gripped the railing and prepared to jump overboard, intending to swim to him. A pair of strong, tattooed arms wrapped around her midsection and effectively stopped her from doing so.

“She’ll be safe with me, Strayhat-ya!” Law called over the girl’s thrashing. 

Her arm stretched outward, vainly grasping for her captain. “No! Luffy, I won’t leave you!” Water had begun to form in her eyes, blurring her vision. “You’re going to be king of the pirates! How can you do that without any crew?!”

Luffy laughed. He was bandaged and bloodied, intending to spend his time on a deserted island, and he was laughing? Was her panic that funny?

“When we meet again, I’ll be stronger than ever!” The boy exclaimed proudly, his shoulders broad. “I expect the same from you!”

For a moment, she stopped struggling. This couldn’t be real. She was having a nightmare. There was no way her captain would abandon her. Luffy wouldn’t do that.

“Bepo! We’re going now!” Law used her moment of denial to pick the girl up, moving toward the door.

When the sirens screeched and the submarine lurched, signaling its descent into the waves, her panic resumed tenfold. She screamed incoherently. She squirmed, kicked, and clawed at the railing and then the air. Obscenities were hurled at Law. But he did not relent.

Once they’d gotten inside and the door closed, she didn’t stop fighting. Fists were hurled at the thick steel door. Nails broke as she dug at the metal. Tears fell in hot, angry streams.

Law’s grip only tightened on her waist, his forehead digging into her back. When she fell to her knees, he followed. Her tears turned into choking sobs and wails. Her heartbreak echoed with an intensity matching the alarms blaring throughout the submarine.

Why? Why was Luffy doing this to her? She didn’t understand.

Eventually the sirens ceased, announcing the craft’s successful descent, and she began to quiet. Her body shook as she held herself. Her breath quickened to near hyperventilation - the finality of her sentence sinking in.

When Law lifted her in his arms, her body fell limp. Why wasn’t she waking up? She began to feel numb, shock taking hold of her senses. The strong arms cradling her to a warm, broad chest went unnoticed. Her mind raced, the unknown of her circumstance paralyzing.

Before she could register the change, she was being sat down onto a cold examination table, the abrupt temperature startling her back to the present. Focusing her eyes, she found Law’s form turned away and shutting a door. The lock clicked in a satisfying tone.

The room was cold, sterile, reminiscent of a doctor’s office. The only hint that she wasn’t inside a hospital was the desk overflowing with papers and books set to one side. It looked like someone’s personal library had exploded over roughly half of the room.

Her senses still lagging, she jumped when Law’s hands slapped the table on either side of her. His arms were rigid, trapping her in place on the metal slab. His legs rested between hers as he leaned forward, his forehead coming into contact with her shoulder. 

“I’m sorry.” His voice was soft. Far softer than she’d heard over these last weeks.

He withdrew just enough so that their eyes could meet. His golden orbs reflected the fluorescent lights, appearing like lanterns amidst his dark circles. “I know you’re suffering. But I promise to care for you the best I can.”

Her eyes widened. Where was this coming from? The Trafalgar Law she’d seen at Marineford, the man who saved her captain’s life, was cold and unfeeling. He was an apathetic, calculating, unapologetic murderer. A captain of the Worst Generation. But as he raised a hand to smooth out the mess she’d made of her hair, she found herself leaning into his touch.

***

He wouldn’t leave her alone - not for long at least. He’d made her sleep in his room, insisting that the crew’s quarters were unfit. 

He rarely slept in his own room, instead passing out at his desk after studying medical documents for countless hours. On the rare nights he did make it to the Captain’s quarters, he chose to sleep on the small couch. 

Those first several nights, she barely slept. Perched on Law’s plush bed and staring out the porthole became her constant position, only resting when her body gave way to exhaustion. Spotting the occasional fish became the highlight of her days.

When a week had passed this way, Law decided it’d been long enough.

At first, she’d fought him on it. She refused to leave the room, not wanting to spend time with any of the Heart Pirates. She didn’t want to grow close to them. She already had a crew - the Straw Hats were her nakama.

But she was no match for Law’s strength or his Ope Ope powers. If she wouldn’t get up, he’d carry her. If she fought against his hold, he’d create a room and teleport them both. 

He forced her to eat her meals with his crew. At first, she wouldn’t talk to them. Their welcoming greetings were met with neglect and half-hearted pleasantries. But each trip to the mess hall became less eventful. 

“Why are you doing this?” She asked him one day while he dragged her to breakfast. “Why put so much energy into making me eat?”

Law clicked his tongue, his tone akin to chastising a child. “Your captain entrusted you to my care. How do you think he would react if I returned you malnourished?”

Eventually, she began to open up. Slowly - excruciatingly at times - she came to know a few key members of the Heart Pirates.

There was Bepo - a depressed polar bear mink and the ship’s navigator. His fur was the softest thing she’d ever felt.

Ikkaku was the only other female onboard. Her tomboyish personality made her a great fit for the mostly male crew.

Penguin and Shachi were a pair of near inseparable idiots. Their constant antics and terrible jokes brought some much needed entertainment to Y/n’s dark mind.

But always in her thoughts was the wish to be back home - aboard the Thousand Sunny. With the Straw Hats Pirates, sailing towards the One Piece. She’d have given anything to be with her nakama.

***

When the night terrors started, Law knew his efforts weren’t enough. 

He was headed to bed after a late night of pouring over medical texts. Entering the room quietly, he’d found her form slumbering peacefully beneath the sheets of his bed.

Law had smiled at her snoring, glad she was finally getting some restful sleep. Her state had begun concerning him - sleep deprivation was a quick killer. But it seemed his attempts to get her accustomed to life alongside his crew had been working.

Satisfied with himself, he went into the attached bathroom. Removing his shirt to reveal a muscled, tattooed chest, he took in his reflection. His eyes were sunken, the permanent dark bags appearing to have worsened. 

Turning on the sink, he began to splash water on his face. Then the shrieking started. 

He rushed into the bedroom to see Y/n distressed. She was screaming, thrashing in her sleep as if she were being held down. The wails were panicked, desperate for relief from whatever horrors plagued her unconscious mind.

Law rushed to the bedside, placing a firm hand on her shoulder to keep her in place. Inked letters spelling “Death” came into his vision, an unwelcome layer of irony adding to the chaos. He shook her head, willing his worries away before bringing his other hand to stroke her hair.

“Shh.” He spoke calmly, knowing that an abrupt awakening could spell danger for the girl. “You’re alright, Y/n-ya.” 

When her eyes fluttered open, they were glossy with tears. She didn’t stop to ponder the distraught expression on Law’s face. She only reached forward, wrapping trembling arms around his torso and pulling him down to her level.

A fleeting moment of confusion caused the man to hesitate before he held her. She sobbed quietly into his chest as he rubbed soothing circles on her back. 

“Why are you being so kind to me?” She’d asked through sniffles one night after he’d calmed her.

Law sighed, his eyes closing under scrunched brows before he answered. “Because I know how it feels to have someone you love ripped away from you.”

***

For once, the submarine was docked on an island - one she’d refused numerous offers to explore. Birds flew over the horizon and waves could be heard lapping against the metal hull. Y/n hadn’t realized how much she missed the sounds of the surface.

Why had Luffy left her here? Was she that much of a hindrance to his training? She understood that he wanted to spend this time getting stronger. As they were now, none of the Strawhat Pirates were ready to face the New World. But could they not grow together?

Suddenly, shouting and gunfire broke her train of thought.

Springing to her feet, she tore through the metal hallways like a wild animal. She’d be damned if a Marine attack killed her new friends, leaving her stranded. 

Wait. Friends?

Flinging the vessel’s main door open, Y/n jumped as a stray bullet barely missed her. The metal rang like a bell under impact, a small dent marring canary paint. She looked out to the island; soft sand was stained with blood. A Navy ship was docked not far away, her men engaged in battle with the Heart Pirates.

Both sides appeared to be struggling, though Y/n’s hosts were faring worse than the Marines. White and orange boiler suits blurred with the unmistakable blue and white of uniformed soldiers. At the heart of it all, Law could be seen slaughtering enemies one after another - His devil fruit and sword in perfect synchronization.

In contrast to their captain, the Heart Pirates’ lower ranking members were obviously floundering. They were outnumbered, even after the countless Marines that had already fallen. If the tides of battle didn’t turn soon -

Y/n jumped over the railing, sprinting forward the second her boots met wood. A body lay where the small dock’s planks turned to sand. She swiped the rifle laying nearby as she continued to run, choosing to ignore the stickiness which covered her hands. 

Her first target was a man advancing on Bepo - a sword swinging dangerously close to the polar bear’s neck. Taking quick aim, she steadied her breath before firing. The bullet went straight through the man’s head, his body dropping instantly. 

The navigator took notice of his savior, shouting a quick “thanks” before he moved to another target.  This time, he chose to maul a marine who was advancing on Ikkaku. Blood sprayed as the soldier’s right arm was ripped off, a bloodcurdling scream erupting over the battlefield. 

She took aim again, taking out two marines engaging Shachi and Penguin. One by one, enemy soldiers fell to expertly aimed shots. She was a weapons master, afterall. 

The battle began to turn, the two sides evenly matched before the numbers tilted in the Heart Pirates’ favor.

“Everyone! Back on the ship!” Law’s order rang over the bloodied terrain as the surviving marines began their retreat. 

Immediately heading their captain’s orders, the entire crew bolted for the Polar Tang. But a hand on Y/n’s shoulder prevented her from following. 

“Room.”

Before she could register what was happening, she had been transported into Law’s room. Turning, she found the man standing behind her. Blood was splattered across his form, drying crimson clinging to his goatee.

“What are you - “

Her question was cut short, startled into silence by Law advancing on her. She quickly stepped away until her shoulder blades met the cool steel of the room’s door. Her eyes darted around the room, panic rising in the back of her thoughts. 

What had she done wrong? Should she have stayed on the ship? Had she interfered with one of his plans?

She yelped when his fist landed beside her ear.

“Strayhat-ya isn’t getting you back.”

Law’s expression was one of pure anger. Fury morphed his usually stoic features, an inferno burning behind his gilded irises. Had she not been taken aback by his words, she would have been terrified.

“But Luffy said in two years - “

“To hell with Strawhat!” His fist banged again, this time leaving a dent in the steel door. His neglect to add the customary -ya didn’t go unnoticed. “He had you right there at Rusukaina, but instead sent you away with another man!?” 

She shrank under his gaze. Law was usually so unexpressive. Even the tender moments they’d shared were not only rare but punctuated with only concern or melancholy. Never had she seen him display such intense emotion. 

“He said he wants me to get stronger.” Why was she defending her captain? He’d abandoned her - tossed her aside to focus on himself. Didn’t he know how much she was hurting?

“You’re already plenty strong.” Law sneered, voicing her thoughts before they’d fully formed. “You just saved my entire crews’ asses. If he couldn’t appreciate what he already had, ” Law paused, removing his fist from the door and moving it to hold her waist. “Then I will.”

His lips crashed into hers with a passion she’d not experienced before. They were soft, moving fervently against her own as she reciprocated his movements. He smelled of musk and pine - the scent reminiscent of Christmas as it invaded her senses. 

Each caress of their lips sent bolts of electricity down her spine. When his tongue probed for access, she granted it with a happy humm. Their wet muscles mingled in a dance of unspoken desire. All the sleepless nights he’d sit up with her, all the times he’d leave his work to check on her, all the effort he’d put into ensuring her health and wellbeing, all the energy and care he’d continue to exert for her - it all came to a head as one passionate kiss bled into the next.

Strong arms brought her against a firm chest, holding her tightly. When her fingers laced into his raven locks and tugged ever so gently, he growled into her mouth. In a single swift motion, he lifted her off the ground.

Her legs were still wrapped around his torso when she fell into the plush mattress. Their bodies were pressed impossibly close, the lines where her being stopped and his began had blurred. It wasn’t long before the two had become a heaving, sweaty mess of passionate flesh and sin.

***

Two years had passed quicker than either of them had expected.

“Y/n!” Luffy shouted in excitement as he ran towards her, his rubber arms stretching out to wrap around the girl.

She giggled, returning his embrace.

“Why weren’t you on Sabaody? We waited for you until the Marines attacked.” His confusion was sincere as he released her and tilted his head. But before she could respond, he continued with a wide grin. “Doesn’t matter now! Come on, we’ve got some kids to save before we leave this island!”

When he’d turned to run off, Law spoke up. His arms were crossed over his jacket-clad chest. “Wait, Strawhat-ya. Y/n has something to say.”

Luffy turned to face her, his expression now serious.

She shook her head before moving towards Law. “I won’t be going back with you. I’m a Heart Pirate now.”

Law smirked, wrapping an arm around her shoulders before he leaned down. After placing a kiss to her forehead, he glared at Luffy. “And my girlfriend.”

[vulpisnocturna]

Bloodstained Rubies - Chapter 1 - Snare

Not sure if I’m going to cross post here as well, but I’ll post the first chapter… in case I only continue it on AO3, this is the link

Chapter II

I do not condone this behaviour in real life. This is fictional. Please take care, read the warnings and avoid if you think this content may be triggering to you.

Warnings: Yandere Chrollo, Stalking, Kidnapping, Obssessive Love, Possessiveness, Jealousy, Drugging, Breaking and entering (Chrollo out here committing all the felonies)

Word Count: 5k

The rain had seeped into the cracks of the cobbled alleyway, rendering the stone slippery, dampening the aged brick walls caging the narrow passage, darkening the view even more. Straining eyes could only make out bulbous orange glows of faraway street lights, legs numbed from the cold autumnal air and unrelenting rainfall toiling to keep a rapid pace and avoid slipping on the damp stones.

Slowing down was not an option. Neither was turning back and choosing a different path. Over the sound of the roaring rain, soft footsteps could be heard, not too far away. Growing closer. Or perhaps it was a mere figment of an imagination much too vivid and active, and the danger was only the product of a life of warnings and cautionary tales. Like a monster under the bed.

Thirty steps. Thirty steps to the safety of the main street. Breath puffing in clouds of haze, raindrops adorning lashes, hair sticking to the skin, knees weak and unsteady.

Twenty.

It was closer now. Almost real.

Ten.

Almost tangible, close enough that the alleyway seemed to lengthen, dilating, making the main road impossible to reach. One slip on the damp cobblestones could spell demise.

Five.

The light was closer. People could be seen walking through the street, carrying umbrellas or hurrying through the rain. Safety.

One.

You inhaled sharply, your heart thundering in your ribcage, the sounds of the bustling street filling your ears, enveloping your heaving chest in relief. People walked by you, and you blended with the crowd, heading to the station. You had walked that alleyway a thousand times, and you’d never felt that dread, that feeling of being hunted. Targeted. Your bones had turned into ice in your body.

You had never been particularly impressionable, but in the last couple of weeks, you’d felt watched. But when you turned towards the alleyway, your eyes wandering around the street behind you, there was no one. You shook off the horrible feeling in your gut that told you to run and hide, and sought refuge in the warm underground station, tapping your phone at the gates and descending the stairs. No one was behind you. No one was out to get you. You were safe. You were going to go home and make yourself a cup of tea before you went to bed early.

You got on the train, sitting in a fairly crowded carriage, taking out Pride and Prejudice from your bag and resuming from where you had left off that morning. It was one of your favourite books, and you had read it dozens of times, but you still got some nostalgia for it from time to time.

The minutes passed, and you forgot all about your gut feeling in the alleyway, your mind immersed in the world of Elizabeth Bennett and her witty quips that always made you smile. She almost made you lose track of the stops, but luckily, you heard the announcement and stood up, hastily putting the bookmark at the page you had reached and hurrying to the platform.

Luckily, you lived a mere two minutes from the station, in the outskirts of the city, where trains could be heard even with the windows shut and the curtains drawn, but at least, you could afford your own place. It wasn’t all that bad, truly. It was a small house, reminiscent of a cottage with its brick walls and small rooms, and its low ceilings. It was cosy, covered with plants and books, it even had a small fireplace that was your pride and joy. You’d filled it with pillows, blankets and trinkets that had caught your eye in thrift shops and fair markets. You locked the door behind you, taking off your drenched coat and your damp boots, hating the feeling of wet socks clinging to your feet. You took them off too, deciding to have a hot shower before bed.

You had finished late at work, to the point where your boss had offered to get you some dinner, and you had gladly accepted, blinking your tired eyes at the computer screen to stay awake.

You were overworked and underpaid, but you needed that job desperately, and therefore, you made it a habit to gamble more unpaid hours for a more stable future. With the hope that one day, your hard work would pay off, and you’d get a promotion. So far, you’d been unsuccessful.

However, the week was now done, and you prepared yourself for a free day of peace. Saturdays were your favourite days. You usually tried to get up before nine, so that you could make the most of them. You made pancakes, went for a walk to the park next to your house, bought lunch at the quaint brunch stall by the lake and on good days, you ate under the weeping willow on the shore, basking in the sight of the tree branches swaying on the surface of the water, the water lilies crowding the shore and the sunlight reflecting on the lake. After that, you headed to the library in the city centre, where you would have spent all day if you could. You usually visited the market before you went home, and then, you would watch a film and head to bed later than usual. Sundays were your cleaning days usually, unless you wanted to meet up with a friend or needed to run errands.

You had no idea that Saturday would be the last chance for you to experience all those things.

The library was quiet that day, even though the rain had continued to pour down the city since Friday morning and people usually flocked there or to the museums and cinemas when it was gloomy outside. In your opinion, it was the best time to be at the library: the big, arched windows of the upper floor offered a scenic view of the storm brewing outside, and the warmth of the orange lights and the mahogany bookshelves of the antique library made you feel cosy. You were sitting on a plush green armchair, your favourite spot in the corner of the upper floor, right by the window and the classics section. Something about the smell of the old books that were gathered there offered you comfort.

‘Excuse me, miss’ you heard a soft, masculine voice say, timbre smooth and rich. You lifted your eyes from your book, looking at the man in front of you. Your stomach dropped for a second, and you swallowed, trying not to stare. He was around your age, perhaps a few years older, and the most attractive man you had ever seen in your life. His lean, tall build was highlighted by smart black trousers, a simple maroon jumper and a long, black coat. Round, slightly upturned grey eyes sat in a face of sharp cheekbones, angular jaw, delicate and yet masculine nose and well-defined lips stretched into a slight smile. He was wearing an odd bandana of sorts on his forehead, but it did nothing to dampen his looks. Shoulder-length black hair fell in unruly strands around his neck and shorter bangs that covered parts of his forehead, and round turquoise earrings shone on his ears, the bright hues contrasting against the beautiful dark hair.

‘Uhm- yes?’ you murmured, righting your posture a little under his gaze.

‘I was wondering if you dropped this bracelet by any chance’ he said, lifting a hand, your gold bracelet dangling from his tapered, willowy fingers. You glanced at your wrist, clearing your throat.

‘Yeah- yes, thank you, that’s mine’ you said, holding the book with one hand and lifting yourself up, extending your hand. Instead of giving it to you, he held your hand and wrapped it around your wrist, clasping it and giving you a smile. Your breath threatened to falter, and you were almost hypnotised by him as he gave one last stroke to the back of your hand before he let it go.

‘There. Should be safe from slipping now’ he said, and you noticed he was holding a book in his hand. The Picture of Dorian Gray, one of your favourite books. So not only was he handsome, he also had good taste.

‘Thank you’ you said again, smiling at him. He nodded.

‘I’m Chrollo’ he said, extending a hand. You shook it, giving him your name in return, and he said it himself, as though he was weighing it on his tongue. It sounded good in his voice. Soft, like a gentle caress on your spine. It made shivers run down your spine.

‘I’ve never seen you here before’ you said conversationally, hoping your social skills hadn’t been too hindered by your nervousness around someone so attractive and charming speaking to you.

‘This is my first time visiting this library, actually. I have only recently moved here, and I happened to walk by and see this building, and I had to visit it. It is truly beautiful here. A very pleasant place to read in peace’ he said, and you nodded along. He was so like you, you thought the same of this library. It was your special place in this city.

‘I feel the same way. I come here every Saturday, just to escape the daily life for a while. How are you finding the city? Are you here for work?’ you asked, finding yourself drawn to that stranger for some reason. There was something fascinating about him, something enigmatic. Or perhaps it was just the way his grey eyes seemed so intense, as though he could read your mind. He was like a lead character in a book.

‘I am. The city centre is quite beautiful architecturally, but I haven’t had the chance to partake in much sightseeing’ he said, ‘and you? Why are you here? Work, or is this the city you grew up in?’

‘No, I grew up in a very small town you probably never heard of. A boring place. I came here to find some work a couple of years ago’ you said, hoping that before the conversation ended, you could get his number. You hadn’t been in the dating scene for a while, and though you were busy, this stranger was just too intriguing. He seemed so intelligent, soft-spoken and genuinely interested in you.

‘I see. I’m afraid I must take my leave now. Allow me to buy you a coffee before that’ he said, putting down the book in a basket by the banister. Your stomach felt warm, and you chuckled nervously, finding it hard to keep eye contact when he was staring at you so intently.

‘Oh, no, you’ve already found my bracelet, I wouldn’t want to keep you. Besides, the prices here are outrageous’ you stammered. Did he like you? Was he truly... flirting with you? This was more like a scene out of a romance book rather than real life.

‘Please, I insist’ he smiled, and you could not say no.

‘Oh, well... thank you. That’s really kind of you’ you said, following him towards the stairs. Chrollo’s eyes softened, and he shook his head.

‘It’s my pleasure’ he only said, smoothly, nonchalantly, as he started to descend the stairs, with you following close.

The cafeteria was placed near the entrance, and you had always deemed it too expensive as a treat. But Chrollo did not even have a change in expression as his eyes followed the menu on the chalkboard on the wall.

‘What would you like?’ he asked, and you eyed the drinks and the corresponding prices, gaze trailing to seek the cheapest one.

‘Uhm... just a coffee would be fine, thank you’ you said hesitantly. He let out a soft sigh.

‘I would not offer it to you if I could not afford it. What would you really like?’ he asked, a sly smirk on his face. Your cheeks felt hot, and you smoothed the front of your jumper in an attempt to calm the embarrassment of him calling you out.

‘A chai latte, please’ you murmured, and he nodded, seemingly pleased as he made his way to the till and took out a black leather wallet from the pocket of his coat. When he came back, he was holding your drink along with his. From the smell, it was black coffee. Quite in tune with his gothic appearance.

‘Thank you, Chrollo’ you smiled at him, holding the cup with both hands when he handed it to you, warming your cold fingers.

‘It was a pleasure to talk to you. I hope to see you again soon’ he said, standing closer to you, his fingers reaching to tuck a wayward strand of hair behind your ear. You didn’t realise you were holding your breath until he stepped away.

‘Me too’ you murmured, earning another slight smile from him as he walked away, sipping his coffee and disappearing behind the corner that led to the exit.

You smiled, fingertips reaching to your cheek, the skin feeling warm where he had touched you.

You found you could not wait until the next Saturday, hoping he would remember that you’d said you’d be there and visit the library again.

Your Sunday was spent running errands, getting a haircut, visiting your friend who was in the hospital following a fall from the stairs that had resulted in two broken legs and a concussion. He was quite optimistic despite saying that he had had no idea how he’d fallen, that he’d just felt pain on his nape and then he had lost consciousness. When he’d woken up, his legs were horribly broken and bent as he had fallen from a flight of stairs.

You’d just seen him the day of the accident in the morning, and he had seemed fine, not dizzy or anything. Although he’d been reminiscing about a crush he’d had on you years ago, which to you was odd, as you had had no idea he had ever liked you.

Nevertheless, the doctors had said he’d been lucky to survive because his head trauma was nothing short of dangerous. You were just glad he was in good spirits and looking forward to getting better.

You smiled slightly, turning the keys to your door and stepping in, holding the letters you hadn’t yet opened as you walked into the living room.

The first one was your electricity bill, the second one a useless letter of invite to a neighbourhood church meeting-

‘Hello, darling’

You let out a scream, your heart skipping a beat as you spun around, the letters falling to the ground, and your terrified eyes set on the man who was lounging on your sofa, sipping a cup of tea from your favourite mug.

Chrollo.

It was Chrollo. The guy whom you’d met the day before. The kind, handsome man who’d found your bracelet and offered to buy you a coffee.

‘W-what are you doing here? How do you know where I live? How did you get in?’ you stuttered, taking a trembling step back. He took another sip, setting your mug down.

‘I came to visit you. You have a very flimsy lock, it’s very unsafe’ he said calmly, as though his words were not completely insane. He’d broken into your house? Was he- a stalker? The presence you’d felt in the alleyway… was that him?

You felt nausea coil in your gut, making your head spin with fear and horror.

Another step back. His eyes were on you. Calm, unfazed. He was smiling slightly, as though amused. But he was sitting, and you were less than ten feet away from the door. But it was locked. You needed time. At least a few seconds of advantage.

Your phone. You would call the police whilst you talked to him. But your phone was in the hallway. Not with you.

‘Chrollo- please go away’ you tried pleadingly, hoping it would make him spare you. It did not.

‘There is no need to worry. I won’t hurt you, darling’ he said, voice soft and sweet. You shivered, and when you saw he was taking another sip of his coffee, you bolted to the door.

Your fingers had barely managed to graze the keys when he appeared in front of you, blocking the door, clucking his tongue against his teeth. How had he managed to get there so quickly? What was he going to do to you?

The kitchen. You needed to get to the back door. Maybe grab a knife and stab him.

‘Now, now, this would be much easier if you just listened’ he said, but you did not wait for him to grab you. You made a beeline for the kitchen, and you had almost reached the handle when he once again appeared in front of you. You flinched, stumbling back, spinning to the counter and grabbing a large knife. Chrollo let out a soft laugh.

‘Oh, darling. I admire your efforts, but that won’t help you. Put it down’ he said easily, one hand in his pocket as he approached you. You swallowed heavily, cold sweat clinging to your spine as your fingers tightened around the handle until you thought you could feel welts stinging your skin.

You could hear the hammering of your heart in your ears, the heavy sound of your panting.

When he took another step, you swung at his stomach. Your wrist was caught in an iron grip, and you hissed in pain, your fingers loosening instinctively until the knife clattered to the ground.

Your eyes burnt with tears, and you tried to punch him, which only resulted in your other hand being caught. Thrashing wildly, like a caged animal, you kicked and pulled to no avail.

Chrollo was too strong. Inhumanly so. He was like a brick wall, completely unfazed by your attempts at escaping or hitting him.

‘Let me go! Let me go!’ you screamed your lungs out, until one of his hands lifted to cover your mouth and he pushed you against the wall, trapping you against it.

‘Shh, shh. You are being such a brat, my love. This is all futile, can’t you see? Where’s the sweet girl I met yesterday? The one who could not stop blushing and smiling at me?’ he asked against your ear, pushing his body more into you. Your eyes widened as you felt a hard bulge against your backside.

No. No, no, no. This could not be happening. Not to you. Not here. This was your safe haven. Your home.

You screamed, sounds muffled by his hand, and he let out a sigh.

‘You have nothing to fear. I don’t plan on acting on my desires as of yet. However, your defiance is starting to irritate me. I’m going to have to take more drastic measures’ he said, and you felt his hand leave your mouth briefly and return pushing a cloth to your mouth and nose. Your heartbeat shot up as panic gripped your stomach, and you held your breath, kicking and thrashing, unable to get him off you until you had to breathe in that sweet-smelling scent. He held it there for a few seconds, and your head immediately started spinning, your ears starting to ring.

‘I’m truly sorry to have to do this, darling. If you’d been compliant, I wouldn’t have had to knock you unconscious’ he said, and your legs wobbled when he pulled it away, to the point where they could not hold your weight and you slumped to the ground. He caught you, holding you against him, and even though you tried to fight back, to push him away, your body was limp and it would not do what you wanted it to.

‘What… did you give me?’ you breathed, vision blurry, your body completely numb. He pushed away the strands of hair from your face, stroking your cheek.

‘Shh. Just an incapacitating agent. This will make you sleep for a few hours. Close your eyes, my love. You must be so tired after all that screaming and thrashing. You can rest now, I’ll watch over you’ he said gently, and you blinked slowly, trying to see him through the dark splotches in your field of view, trying to curse him, to beg him to leave, but your mouth would not move anymore. Soon, the darkness pulled you in and made you its prisoner.

Chrollo smiled, stroking your soft hair, tracing the skin of your jaw and lips. He hadn’t been able to hold himself any longer after having made contact with you. He’d first seen you a month earlier, in that picturesque library where you were curled on a green armchair, completely spellbound as you read Pride and Prejudice in front of an arched window. He had been entranced from the first moment he’d seen you. It wasn’t just your appearance, though he was convinced there was no woman more beautiful than you were, but your mannerisms, your soft smiles as you read specific lines, the way your eyebrows furrowed when you were concentrating, the natural innocence that radiated from you, that had been what had truly ensnared him. That moment, he’d decided that he needed to know everything about you, from your hobbies to your favourite colour to your life story.

He had never fallen in love, but the feeling that had bloomed in his cold heart must have been love: it was desperate, all-consuming, and yet so gentle and calming. It burnt and soothed his soul at the same time. Images of you plagued his every second, and he could think of nothing but to have you all to himself. Why should the world be allowed to benefit from your presence? Why should people be allowed to leer at you, desire you, want you for themselves? He wanted all of you to be consumed by him just as every part of him was consumed by you. He did not want to share your affection with anyone else.

He had followed you home many times, making sure you were safe. After all, you didn’t even know how to use Nen. You were so delicate, like turquoise and amber gemstones. So beautiful, yet so easily broken. With his new love for you came a heart-wrenching fear of losing you: in a world like that, you could never protect yourself. Only he could offer you enough safety.

Despite being a normal civilian, your intuition and gut feeling was impressive. Sometimes, he had to rely on Zetsu in order to avoid being sensed by you. You had a keen sense of danger. Not that it would help you.

Your house was little, much too inadequate and meagre for someone who deserved the most beautiful things the world had to offer. But you would not have to live in this dingy neighbourhood, with the train tracks so close to your windows, for much longer. Despite the grimy neighbourhood, your cottage was cosy. Decorated with everything that made up your lovely personality, Chrollo had felt his chest swell with warmth as he walked silently around the living room the first time he’d broken in, examining your collection of books, seeing which ones were more tattered, lines on the spines of cheap copies. You deserved the feel of an antique book in your hands, not one of those second-rate editions. He could tell from the décor how much you loved this place. He would make sure you had plants, a fireplace, paintings and books and whatever else your heart desired.

All the treasures in the world had been made for you, he’d decided. And he’d steal them all. Then, he had wandered to the small bedroom connected to the living room. His eyes were accustomed to the darkness, he could see your sleeping form curled under the blankets, lips parted and breath steady and heavy. You looked so beautiful, so peaceful. He had the urge to slip the blanket off you, hold you to him, bury his face in your hair. But he didn’t. Not when he could not see your reaction. He wanted you to be awake, wanted you to want him to do all those things.

Temptation had taken him as far as stroking your hair, bending his head to press his lips against the top of your head. The scent of it, so sweet and reminiscent of a spring meadow, had almost made him groan.

He had visited you at night more often, and every time, he would dream of you afterwards, always waking up burning with desire. He needed you. Needed you all to himself. And so he resorted to doing what he did best: steal you.

He knew your patterns well after a few weeks: you worked a contemptible job undeserving of you Monday to Friday, and often stayed late, to the point where you would have to walk back to the station in the dark through dingy alleyways. It was completely and utterly unacceptable. On Saturdays, you walked through the park near your house and then went to the library in the city centre. On Sundays, you stayed home. Before he stole you, though, he wanted to speak to you.

The Sunday he had planned to meet you as you went about your errands, he had seen you visit a man you seemed friendly with. You had gone for lunch with him, laughed at his inane jokes, smiled at him. Chrollo had gotten closer to overhear the conversation, finding out that the swine was infatuated with you. Jealousy he had never felt in his life had burnt hot and bitter in the pit of his stomach, and he had barely been able to restrain the urge to kill him there and then.

But he couldn’t, not in front of you. You were too precious and sweet to bear such a sight. And he would need to make it painful, as punishment for the crime committed. He also did not like the idea of you shedding tears for that moron. No, he would have to kill him after he stole you. It would not do for you to weep for him, be consumed with thoughts about him, when Chrollo wanted him to disappear from the face of the Earth. It did not mean he couldn’t inflict pain on him in the meantime, though.

So that was what he had done. It was a meagre consolation, mere crumbs of reprieve for his resentment, but at the very least, he had had the pleasure of seeing him fall on his legs in the worst way. The worst possible fractures would be there, possibly incredibly painful and inoperable. He hoped the hit to his head had not made him a vegetable. He wanted him cognisant and receptive when he returned to visit him.

Because of the little mishap, he hadn’t been able to steal you on that Sunday and had had to wait one more week, which had only fuelled his bitterness for your acquaintance. However, it had also given him the possibility of meeting you at the library on the following Saturday. And God, you were truly delightful. Sweet and shy, kind and trusting. He had had to leave, or he would have stolen you right there and then. He could see you liked him, his touch. You had been keen to have more. And he would be delighted to grant your wishes.

Which was why he had chosen the next day to wait for you at your house. And now, he finally had you in his arms, though you had been a little recalcitrant. It had saddened him to have to render you unconscious, and the fact that you had seemed so frightened despite him reassuring you he had no intention of harming you was deeply displeasing. Still, he would be a liar if he denied that your fervour and defiance hadn’t tempted him, too. You had just been thrashing in his arms, rubbing against his body in the most sinful ways, and he had only wanted to have you at that very moment. But it would not do. You had been too scared and taken aback to enjoy the encounter, and he planned to make it unforgettable for the both of you.

So he had merely resorted to knocking you unconscious so you would stop causing a commotion.

He picked you up gently, lowering you on the sofa whilst he went to see if there was anything he needed to take with him. He could get you more clothes, ones that would look perfect on you. But he still got you a few handpicked garments for the time being, including your prettiest lingerie, which was utterly ravishing. He could hardly wait to see it on you and tear it off your body.

Your perfume was on the dresser, and he happened to have developed quite a liking for it. It wasn’t as expensive as something he could have gotten for you, but he could find a substitute for it that resembled its scent in the future. For now, he put it in the bag he’d taken with him. None of your books were of any significance, he had memorised the ones you liked the most and planned to get you antiques of those. Jewellery was also not an issue. He could get you so much better. Rubies or emeralds would look stunning on you, he thought. He got your passport, wallet and phone, just to throw off the police, and closed the bag. He put the knife you’d tried to use on him back in the holder and exited the house, putting the bag in the trunk of his car and going back to get you. You were still unconscious, sprawled on the sofa, and he checked once again that no signs of struggle could be seen before he picked you up, took the keys from the dresser next to the front door and closed the door behind him.

He lowered you on the backseat, closing the door and letting out a sigh as he walked to the front and locked the doors before he drove away. You were finally his.

Chapter II

[cxtherine]

spencer reid x fem! reader - all too well chapter II- i love you, i'm sorry

a/n: i literally had to rewrite all of this, so i'm weeks behind where i wanted to be because my laptop deleted this, and the next 2 chapters so i'm sorry it's so late

tw: bodily harm, gore, unrequited love etc.character death, train crashes.

when the train doors slam behind me, i know it's too late. i should've probably thought it through more than i did- but at least the slam was satisfying enough, bags in one hand with my favourite things. i've left everything i've ever known behind. 8-year-old me would've been upset, but now i'm sort of numb, like the way you just get used to cold ice cream on a hot day.

the sky, though, is gorgeous. perfect ambers and pinks, sinking down with the sun. if i could, i'd paint it.

the train is almost empty, and i sit down by myself, in one of the seats with a table so i can put my bags underneath, and my phone and water on the table. the scenery that's starting to flash by outside the huge window is stunning, and it's perfect for me to reminisce on everything that led up to my somewhat-running-away to start a new life, to get away from who i'd become.

when i was a little girl, people used to tell me i should be a lawyer. it was their own, politely masked way of saying i was rude, outspoken. i'd hated my loudness, and knew it wouldn't do me any favours. in the end, i suppose it did.

i met my ex-boyfreind, spencer reid, because i was shouting at a man on the train for my first day at work. he'd touched me inappropriately, and in my disgust, stress, and evident anger i'd yelled in his face. it was then that spencer stepped in, the doe-like brown eyes i'll never forget flickering with concern, and then disgust as they landed on the man i'd been confronting. his hand slid into mine, and it was clammy but somehow, for a stranger, oddly comforting. it was half-an-hour of awkward, polite conversation with spencer after he'd intervened, that made me realise he was going to be one of my new colleages.

it was half a week after that that he became my best freind. we'd done everything together- dr who conventions, nerdy as it seems- and we sat together on every flight to and from cases for work, and just enjoyed the freindship we had. he taught me chess, which i was awful at, and then every card game under the sun. it was a surprise, really, when it became my three year anniversary of working with him, and three years of him being my closest freind and supporter.

more unsurprisingly, we fell in love. it was just perfect, like the movies i would've watched as a teenager on my parent's old TV. coffee shop dates, pinkies interlinked, winter walks. kisses at work, kisses at home and under that big old oak in the town center. in short, everything was just as i'd hoped for all my life. i had a job which made a difference, and a boyfreind who was as kind as he was handsome. i met his mom, and he met mine- diana and i formed a bond, over laughing at his childhood pictures.

maybe i was naive to expect it to stay that way.

it'd been 4 months, of perfect, pure love. we sat on the bench, beneath the oak tree where we'd first kissed, where we'd talked about children and marriage and..other things. every 'thing' we could possibly think of. i hadn't really planned it, spencer'd always been more organised than me, but when i told him i loved him, i wished he'd said it back.

i knew, and still do, what spencer's been through. love has let him down, over and over, but i really thought that we were the greatest thing in each other's lives. 'i'm sorry' isn't exactly a typical response to your girlfreind saying she loves you.

the angry, disappointed little girl who just wanted love had taken over. we'd fought, of course, like any couple does,but it was worse. so much was said. too much, so much that i cried and yelled until my eyes and throat felt scarlet and he just.. blinked those big doe eyes,like i was being irrational, like i was the problem, and left.

left,like both of us had promised we never would. i ran, and i ran faster than i ever have. booked a train ticket, sold my flat. bought another one, upstate and hours away. resigned from the BAU, found another job as easily as that can happen.

i'm going to hate my new job. i know that already. tucked into my train seat, i sigh. the train is finally out of Quantico, and i feel the tenseness that has slipped through the cracks in my heart and into my bones slowly, slowly leaking away. i never really believed in heartbreak. maybe soul-break is the better term, because there's no part of me that doesn't feel utterly destroyed.

the train jolts, and the sip i'd been taking of my water splashes down my front. confused, i rise to my feet. a few minutes later, we're still stuck. i just want to leave. i follow the carriages to the engine-room, irritated. why can't anyone just help me escape? i hate it here.

there's a body, and it makes me jump. slumped on his side, blood pooling down his chest. the profiler in me knows it's been an efficient kill, by someone impatient and well-trained. a perfect slit through the carotid, and then, when i turn him over, fingers trembling, the human in me makes me gag.

his stomach is cut, wide and deep and enough to expose his stomach. suddenly, everything is too bright, too much. i can't even profile what the hell's going on, because there's a honking in my ears, loud and deep and irritating. i straighten up, and look out of the train window.

there's another train, coming right towards this one. i realise there's nothing i can do at the same time that i realise i'm going to die, and then there's the crash, and everything vanishes.

[screamingcrows]

Tie a tether here - Dottore x OC (Celeste)

Note: I don't even care if Dottore is ooc because I needed this. Don't squint too hard at this. Takes place between Tomorrow and Change of Pace. Do not fucking feed this to ai, I'll get you Trypanosoma rhodesiense. Warnings/tags: MDNI, self harm (specifically cutting, scratching, and ripping out hair), delusions (the psychotic kind, not the vision mimics), mental breakdown, not established relationship, bad comfort.

Breathe in.

Hold.

A foreign scream rattled the modest bathroom.

Hold.

Celeste's ribs were about to snap.

Nails raked along her scalp, fingers tangling in the soft hair and ripping out one strand after the other.

Hold.

Breathe out.

Breathe in.

The tiles were cold against her knees, legs numb from how long she'd remained there.

Breathe out.

Someone was there with her.

Her ears flicked, picking up the sound of something moving in the halls. It felt too uncertain to be acknowledged. Heavy boots. A soldier? They'd walk by and be none the wiser. All that mattered was the absence of Dottore, his leave ensuring privacy here in his sanctuary.

Clawed hands grasped at the cold sink in preparation to hoist herself up, head lowered in irrational fear of the polished mirror. Something she'd polished herself one week prior. Dottore had needed it clean, not that he'd asked.

Her visage was foreign when it invaded her mind uninvited. Dark bags lined the pale skin under her eyes, their discoloration the worst of all. What had he compared them to before? The break of dawn over the mausoleum? Bile rose in her throat, body jerking with the onset of coughs and gags.

Nothing was expelled from her body save the tears that refused to dry. If only it was that easy. Foul laughter erupted from her throat, bubbling to the surface as it was wrung from her body. The tears flowed faster, confusion and fear at the foreign sounds being brought to life. Was that her fate, bring about such terrible things?

Several familiar faces danced at the edges of her vision, her own reflection baring its sharp teeth in a mocking sneer. Her head was pounding, the laughter threatening to crush her skull and what little sanity remained.

Murderer.

They kept whispering that single word, the sound echoing painfully in her head, burying itself where it would never be uprooted. Their grins remained intact, empty eyes boring into her even as all faded to black. A sharp pang went through the haze, fresh blood pooling around her claws as they dug into her shoulders, shaking with a need to rend. Celeste felt her muscles spasm, fighting a futile war with itself, torn between serving justice and self preservation.

Glass cracked and splintered under the weight of her fury, uselessly clattering to the ground to join her ambitions. Another howl tore itself free while she sunk back to her knees, masking not only the sharp knock but also the immediate creaking of hinges.

"And why, exactly, are you in my quarters Celeste? I might have given you a key out of convenience, but that was hardly an invitation."

Everything shattered around her, hands desperately flying to her shoulders to cover and hide, back rounding as she curled in on herself. A small shake of her head to spread the white locks of hair, praying it had no visible stains already as it blanketed her form.

Revenge?

"Privacy… You were gone anyway," the lie seared her tongue, shaky enough that it was no doubt obvious.

A cry for help?

Her eyes closed in relief when Dottore showed a rare mercy and let the question drop. The respite was short-lived as any other pleasantries in this world. Three sharp clicks from his heels and soft leather meeting bare skin, the grip on her shoulder light yet still bordering on painful as it threatened to crush her heart. His gloves would be bloodied again. The cacophony of voices had calmed at the touch.

"Make no mistake, you will be reprimanded for this mess in due time, Celeste," an unamused sigh followed, the silence that stretched reminiscent of late nights where a solution was taunting them, just out of reach, "for now, collect yourself and go to the locked lab. Delta can patch you up in there, I would rather this stay between us."

That was it? Of course it was. What else did she deserve?

Celeste found herself longing to smack his hand away, bite it perhaps, anything to shift her focus from the quickly expanding pit of her stomach. It was all so tiresome, body heavy and sluggish as she let it curl in further on itself, as if the world could be shut out so long as all senses were dulled. A sob left her lips. It could, she knew it could.

The weight on her shoulder moved, awkwardly firm in the way it shook her.

"I said collect yourself, tardiness has never been a vice for you and it would be unfortunate to develop the habit now," Dottore's words lacked their previous bite, more resigned than anything.

Another cackle wormed its way from her throat, building to a manic laughter as her own hands flew up to catch it at the source, squeezing around the delicate column, anything to make it stop.

He's laughing at you. It's natural. A pathetic creature who can do nothing right. Escaping fate takes more than fleeing a nation.

"Celeste," his voice was sharp again, sharper than the feel of his palm colliding with the back of her head.

Everything went quiet again save for the dull thud of an aching heart.

"Don't make me drag you there."

The thumb rubbing against her shoulder now was far more rugged than the familiar leather. When had he removed the glove? A sigh left her, focusing on the drag against her skin and the stinging pain that accompanied it with every swipe just barely dodging the open cuts. Her breath was coming in short puffs, adrenaline coursing through her veins as the formless voices continued to lurk in the shadows, waiting for the time where she'd be alone again.

Celeste was well aware that the anguish, the way her voice cracked so pitifully, was undoubtedly irksome for Dottore, but nothing could be done to stop it.

"Being patched up isn't going to-"

"Do you think I'm unaware? Tell me then, what can be done in this very moment? From where I stand, there's no immediate solution to this, and clever as you are, you'd have already found it if there was. And if I," he hesitated for a moment, finger digging painfully into a wound before reluctantly pressing on, "if we cannot fix that, then at least the vessel can be maintained."

A few tears were wiped from her cheeks, slowly turning as if compelled to look at him. Dottore had forgone the mask, a rare occurrence. There were creases around his eyes, jaw clenched so tightly the muscles trembled.

By no means should those words be calming.

Celeste let her head fall, eyes closing as exhaustion took root. Her eyes stung from the lack of tears left to shed, a light pressure still remaining, the only thing keeping complete emptiness at bay.

"Don't- don't look at me like that."

No words were offered in response as his thumb continued to trace over old scars and fresh wounds alike, touch far too delicate for the man he was. A hiss left her lips when her hair was moved out of the way, knowing that nowhere she could reach on her thorax had been spared throughout the years.

"And don't touch me…"

Don't touch me like that.

"And here I thought your gravitation towards high necklines and covered shoulders was simply a testament to professionalism."

Another silence ensued, uncomfortable and far too long. Already broken shards of the mirror cracked under Dottore's boot as he shifted before kicking them away, some of them disappearing under the crumpled fabric of the discarded shirt.

"It's hideous-"

And I'd rather be spared the faux sympathy.

The words felt heavy, he'd already been burdened enough by this outburst. If only she hadn't gone to his quarters in some silly pursuit of false security, this could've all been avoided and her dignity would be intact.

"I seem to recall your lips tracing along my body, saying my numerous imperfections didn't matter. 'merely proof you've lived' if I remember correctly. Explain to me the difference."

"There's a- a good reason you look as you do," a reason you won't share with me, "it was out of your control, but this-"

"Do you harm yourself out of a desire to do so?"

"I mean- I," a cloying breath of air invaded her lungs, the sense of anticipation heavy upon her tongue, how could he still be so innocently curious, "I don't know? Sometimes it's just, I have to, it's always.. it's always there and nothing makes it shut up and- I think I'm broken."

With surprising patience, Dottore let his hand fall away, walking around to lean against the sink.

"Does it work?"

"What?"

"Does it ease your mind?"

A part of her wanted to scream that of course it did, why else would she resort to it. It would be a lie. And if she hadn't imagined the regret in those garnet eyes, he knew it.

"It gives me something else to think about," the words were forced out with a shudder, fingers playing with a shard of glass.

It was crushed under his boot before her fingers could grasp it, the tiny splinters glittering against the floor.

"We have better things to distract ourselves with."

She flinched, tail stirring as it curled around her waist, body finally giving in to the thought of soothing itself. Maybe he was right, there'd never really been a quick solution to anything, had there? Her eyes flickered to the thin trails of crimson that adorned her arms. At least not any worth pursuing.

Celeste took the outstretched hand that was offered, seeing the drying blood on her hands stain his skin as she fought the sinking feeling that slowly crept back. Surprise briefly ran through her system at the slight smile that met her, the whisper of 'there you are' faint enough that she didn't dare acknowledge it, merely following Dottore out of the wrecked bathroom, thoughts frustratingly quiet as long as his hand enveloped her wrist.

[rainthespiritual]

Electric Love ~ Dot

An American Horror Story AU fic Based on season 2, asylum.

TRIGGER WARNINGS TAKE SERIOUSLY :

Angst, electroshock therapy, torture, it being asylum is itself a trigger warning, depression, forced medication, self harm, suicide, litteraly everything bad like that please be warned thank you 🙏

Plot : You're a patient in the asylum with kit

status : slightly edited

A/n : Idk how long this will be but I plan on making it atleast a couple parts... probably a series..

"Please stop! STOP it!" you cry, trying to pull your arms away from the two guards dragging you. You look around trying to make sense of where you are again but you immediately regret it as it all comes back. The darkness around consumes you and you truly ask yourself if you are in hell.

"No.. no no no NO NO PLEASE LET ME GO!" you scream again and again seeing the same walls you've seen.. again and again, the same place you were condemned to the place you are trapped, like a mouse in some sick maze. Darkness all around you in every corner, lingering in the air even. The same sickening song playing again and again in the common room, making you more nauseous with every note and every tune. The record player taunting you daily, you swear it's asking you to bash it in. To destroy it. You want nothing more than to lift up that stupid ugly thing, over your head and crack.. Oh the release youd feel is almost worth the punishment.

Most of the time you barely can understand what's around you anymore, it's all so familiar but also so foreign. Unknown to you it's a side-effect of the pills they force down your throat, and you sadly have no choice. You either take them or some sick man you don't know will hold your nose closed forcing you to open up to breathe but instead of air, you get the sick salty taste of fingers and medicine that never seems to go away, instead it lingers. Those damn pills taste terrible even just sitting them on your tounge to swallow makes you nauseous. Hell everything about this damn place made you nauseous the people, the smells, the air, the pills, the treatment and you could go on and on and on If you were sober enough.

The irony smell in the air, reminiscent of blood never seemed to go away and you can recognize it on the hands of some of the staff, 'why' you wonder 'why do their hands smell like blood and death'. The answers you've seemed to come up with terrify you to no end so you prefer to ignore it, to take the pills. Even though they don't seem to help much at all.

You open your eyes not even realizing they've been shut, you feel weirdly numb. But not so numb you feel nothing, just numb enough to be dazed and confused just how they like it. Compliant and scared. They say things to you that you now realise mean nothing, 'thisll fix you, you'll be happy.' , 'just let God into your heart and you'll be alright.' but it's proven again and again to be utter bullshit, everything is utter bullshit. You pray over and over begging for forgiveness, begging to feel anything but this, anything but the excruciating feeling of lonliness and utter dread you feel almost constantly and nothing gets better, you don't get fixed. Maybe it's you or maybe it's the life you've lived or the choices youve made. Or maybe just maybe it's nothing at all, just randomly selected torture that truly means nothing at all. Gathering all the strength you have left you try to kick out, but these two men are bigger, stronger, and alot less doped up than you are. The drugs you're forced to take keep you weak so you wont fight back, but that doesnt stop you from atleast trying.

  Finally, you fall limp in their arms knowing what's going to come next, the worst kind of pain imaginable. One that does damage inside and out, melting your brain more and more every day. Sister Jude had caught you the previous day, or maybe week? It's so blurry you can't truly remember. But the gist is she caught you trying to cut yourself with a piece of sharp metal you had found on the floor somewhere, though now you can't completely remember the whereabouts. Stitched up and at least somewhat healed now, Sister Jude decided to resume your treatments. All you can do now is sob, and pray that it is over soon to a God that never listens.

"Please.." The guards finally strap you down, ignoring your pleas and sobs.

 After a while of silence, Sister Jude finally walks into the room followed by Dr.Arden. "Please Sister, please! I'm begging you please don't do this to me, please. I'LL BE BETTER!" you sob even harder screaming as they forcefully open your mouth to shove a mouth guard inside, your screams now muffled unable to speak.

 You look into Sister Jude's eyes with a pleading look, hoping that maybe just for once she will let you off easy with just a couple welts. Her eyes stare into yours and for a moment, just a moment, you feel that she actually feels bad. The looks in her eyes similar to yours makes you want to scream out but you stay silent knowing you won't be heard. Her mouth opens a bit, you assume to speak. But instead she jumps slightly, startled by the scratchy voice of Dr.Arden.

   "Shall we get on with it?" he sounds impatient, his expression looking eager. You shut your eyes, hot tears still running down your face. Even just hearing Dr.Arden's voice sent chills down your spine. Something about him was evil. It  was almost like he enjoyed the torture.

  "Don't worry ___ we'll get you all fixed up," Sister Jude whispers wiping the tears from your sticky face ", you need to accept God into your life fully if you truly want to get better young lady." just like that her face is serious again and the little bit of hope you had is gone. It's good to not have hope in a place like this, but it's only human nature. Dr.Arden brings the tool to your temple, and finally, the torture begins. You scream out, feeling the electricity pulse throughout your body. Until at some point everything turns black, and your mind goes silent. Maybe this is the end.

[thefrontofmymind]

i’m not sure if you still take requests, but i would absolutely love a fluff/soft matty where he comforts an overwhelmed/overstimulated reader! i’m autistic and have sensory meltdowns from time to time, and all i can think about is how matty would understand (being a neurodivergent lad himself) and how he would put his hands over my ears to block out the noise or how he’d take me out for fresh air to get away from it 🥹

ofc only if you have the time!!

- ✨

Overwhelmed (matty healy x autistic!reader)

an: i hope this lives up to what you were hoping for love!! lmk <33

You either had the option of focussing on your guilt or the too-loud music and the too-bright lights. You promised Matty you would come with him to this party, you thought you’d be able to handle it–normally you could. But maybe it was the long week you had or the fact that you had to mask all freaking day that just made it impossible.

You were trying to focus on the conversation of the circle of people around you but you couldn’t stop fading in and out of the disassociation that was forcing itself to the front of your mind.

You just kept quiet, it was getting harder and harder to breathe and you couldn’t move. You got stuck staring into the dark pool of Coca-Cola in the glass in your hand–each bubble was reminiscent of your mind, slowly rising to the top until it burst.

You couldn’t even make out what anyone was saying by that point, it was all just a blur of gibberish and indistinguishable faces. 

Right when you needed him, Matty put his hand on your forearm, squeezing just enough to get your attention–it was the one thing that kept you from going numb altogether. When you looked at him he just raised his eyebrows at you–his look of concern, the way he would always silently check in on you, especially in settings like this. You didn’t need to tell him so explicitly that you were struggling to function, the slightest shake of your head was enough for him to know right where you were.

“Time to head off, I think?” He phrased it as a question, even though he knew your answer, to help you save face in front of the group of strangers around you. You were thankful for that.

You politely bid your goodbyes as best you could while still so fragile, before Matty directed you to the front door of the swanky Beverly Hills house that had been stressing you the whole evening.

The air outside was cool and fresh, just what you needed. Matty let go of your hand once you were outside, but still close enough to your side that if you wanted contact with him again, he was right there for you. This wasn’t his first rodeo, he was used to you needing space in times like these, but he always wanted you to know he was there for you, however you needed him.

“Ice cream on the way home?” He asked as you both made it back to his car.

“I just wanna go to bed,” you answered. “Too tired.”

Matty nodded. As he turned the ignition, he was quick to turn the radio off just as the car started, but he’d let you decide if you could deal with wind coming in through the windows.

You felt so much more comfortable once you had gotten into a pair of cosy pyjamas, and slipped into your’s and Matty’s bed with fresh cotton sheets that felt so cool against your skin. 

The only thing missing was Matty, your Matty. You had to fight to keep your eyes open until he was out of the shower and in bed next to you. You never felt more calm than cuddled into his side.

“I’m sorry,” you said, breaking a long string of silence between the two of you.

“What for?” He asked.

“You know…making you leave that party early…”

“Oh, don’t apologise for that,” he scoffed. “You were just doing what you needed to do, and I’ll always be there for you when you need me.”

You couldn’t fight the smile on your face. “You’re too good to me.”

He laughed and kissed the top of your head. “Cause I love you, Baby.”

[neonpaperlanterns]

Let me unclip your wings

Chapter One: Tied Down

Summary: He found a little bird who needs some help to fly. [A/n: This work is inspired by Passing Fascination by @punks-never-die205. Also if you are not 18+ do not interact with their blog! And mine.]

[Pt 2] [Pt 3]

Is it possible to feel such overwhelming regret for something while also reminiscing about the actions that led to it?

Staring up at the ceiling it was all Wren could think about. Her brain supplied nothing but fond memories as her wrists flexed against the rope that dug into the plush bandages wrapped around her arms.

“You’re gonna thank me for this.” Wren blinked slowly at the declaration. Her gaze languidly slid from the spiraling patterns above her to stare at the other person in the room. 

“Don’t look at me like that.” There was no heat behind the demand and she continued to stare blankly. Fingers curled and uncurled stiffly as the reason for her restraints shifted uncomfortably. Wren should be much angrier than she is with the man who did this to her. Yet fondness still slithered through her veins for him.

Or maybe she was just numb. 

It was hard to tell what she was feeling being tied to the bed like this. Her thoughts swirled and mixed together into a messy knot she has yet to untangle. And he wouldn’t leave her alone to figure anything out. Siting that he couldn’t leave her alone and this was for her own safety. Which maybe was her own fault for what she did. It had been a frantic rash decision and if she could take it back she would. But maybe she wouldn’t have even done something so idiotic if he had just listened to her. 

Wren could feel pin pricks of anger stirring in her gut. Slipping her eyes closed, she took a deep breath. Focusing on the gentle sway of the ship she let it out slowly, counting back from ten. Opening her eyes again she was met with a less than satisfied gaze looking back at her.

“Why are you being like this?” He sounded exasperated. Not that he had much right to feel that way.

“You don’t have to talk to me. You can scream. Cry. Tell me to take a long walk off a short pier.” His throat bobbed as he ran a hand down his face. “Just do something.”

Wren wasn’t ready to do something yet. She had more sorting and untangling to do. Blinking owlishly she turned away. Looking back up at the ceiling she tried to find the pattern she was tracing earlier. It was gone though so she started a new one. He let out a sigh of frustration. For someone who wasn’t tied down he was acting more upset than the person that was.

“Seriously?!” The sound of wood splintering filled the room. She thinks that is the third chair he has ruined. Without looking at him she knows his teeth are bared. Lips peeled back enough to reveal his gums. Curses drip from his mouth as he channels his displeasure into his words instead of his fists. Wren thought he would have been over this by now. Had assumed he would have run out of energy at this point. She truly hadn’t thought her silence or unresponsiveness would affect him as much as it has. She had assumed he would have grown bored. Then again she has assumed a lot of things about him in the weeks she has known him. All of which have proven untrue.

Something else that was maybe her fault. She hadn’t believed him or really refused to believe him. The stories she heard, the things she witnessed just led her to assume she had understood what was going through his head. She had thought she was protecting herself, being smart and hoping for nothing. Attempting to curl in on herself reminded her of where her assumptions got her.

Bound spread eagle to a bed for her own safety.

[fallensnowfan]

The Winds of Fate.

1106 was a wild chapter, I'm excited to talk about it!

Dorry and Brogy really said, "if you won't come to Elbaf, we'll go to you!" Never considered them arriving here but I love the choice to have them arrive now. Dorry and Brogy already knowing that Luffy is the Sun God stands out, and it's cute how excited they are to see him. I hope they brought snacks. I'm gonna guess they saw Luffy's new wanted poster and came to the conclusion about his devil fruit themselves.

Meanwhile, Vegapunk is bleeding on the ground, and Bonney is primed to steal the show by turning Saturn into a cartoonish pile of soot(I hope,) acting as the "heart" to her newly gained army of Pacifistas. And Luffy? He is laughing and numb to it all. The SMILE fruit/Nika comparisons are strong in this chapter.

Both are still hurt themselves, though I'm wondering what Stussy and Sentomaru will want to do now that Vegapunk has been stabbed. Are we about to learn more about Vegapunk's past?

Vegapunk's thoughts about Bonney and Kuma/the Pacifistas remind me a lot of what went down between the Akazaya and fake Oden. And his line "even if the whole world should be your enemy," is similar to lines from the final Wano opening, Highest Point. "With the world as my enemy, I stand my ground on quivering legs."

I love the decision to not show Luffy's eyes much in the chapter. They're always shaded or somehow obscured, except when he's in the Nika pose, and even then, his eyes are closed. Kizaru's line about wanting darker shades last chapter is an interesting one alongside Luffy's eyes being covered for much of this chapter.

Hi Robonosuke! You've appeared alongside the Nika heartbeat twice now, though haven't moved an inch. Very hmmm. I like that Bonney gets her own turning the tides of the battle moment, ala Tama from chapter 1017. Also is a bit reminiscent of Nami using Big Mom's Vivre card too. Cool!

Maybe the reason Robonosuke is so slow to wake up is because these dern kids keep making a fuss on his lawn. They woke him up from his nap! Fireworks everywhere, buildings crashing down, a silly rubber boy is making a mess while he eats, leaving food scraps everywhere. Just a terrible day for the Ancient Robot.

A lot of grand goings on are paying out on Egghead right now, and Luffy is back up and ready for another round it seems. He was given food and activated Gear 5 once more, the Buster Call Deluxe was swiftly dealt with, the PX units are on Bonney's side now, and powerful allies have arrived. Things are going so well... Dare I say it almost feels that they're going a bit too well.

I've read enough stories to know that when things begin going this smoothly, it often is a signal from the author that something is about to go very very wrong. And Luffy is at the center of it. However, the manga is on break next week. We all get to wait a bit longer to find out what happens from here, ahyahyahyahya! I'm curious to find out!

[mimiwrites2000]

For the AruAni writers questions:

1, 3, 4, 14!

MOON THANKS FOR THE ASK

Ok let’s start

1- share your favorite part of your latest fic

Well, my latest fic is Legends, and its latest chapter is 22

Here’s my favorite part of this chapter:

The chandelier’s crystals meandered between stairs’ white stonted rails, threateningly pointing down, accompanied with translucent, thin selenders of glass that softly clacked against each other with the softest breeze, playing a soft melody of charms, harmonizing with the contrasted fireworks going off in the distance. The fireworks exploded in the sky, their light reflected wobbling charades on the carpet, sparks of silver and gold emitting from the chandelier in various, spontaneous directions, like fairies in the books Armin’s grandfather used to read for him.

Armin watched it all.

“Can you walk?” He asked Annie, in a soft voice, careful to not disturb the lights.

“I can walk, I am walking,” She answered him, judging him with half lidded eyes. Her arm around Armin’s shoulders and her knees bent with drunkenness as she dragged herself beside Armin, or more like Armin dragging her beside himself.

He eyed the stairs, and then eyed Annie.

“I’m sorry,” he said as he bent, putting his arm behind her knees, lifting her up. She gasped, her arm around his shoulders tightened, the other arm wrapping around his neck. “I am really sorry,” he apologized again, because he held her without her permission, even though that was the only solution at that time. He made sure his hand didn’t touch her, her dress a barrier between his fingers and her skin.

He ascended the stairs, one step at a time. He held her close to his chest, making sure her weight was secured in his arms, and a spark of happiness filled his heart as her body felt healthier, remembering the first time he ever held her, at the harbor, exactly three years prior, after years of being suspended in air, engulfed within a cold crystal.

That day at the harbor he lost her but a miracle, a Legend, paved his way to her and he found her, that day they were given a second, wasted chance.

That day, he held her out of the war's rubble, in the middle of fire and thunder, her body limping against him as he carried her to safety.

That day, he learnt about a Legend, and today, another Legend unfolded itself.

None of these Legends would have happened without them, without him, without her ; she was behind it all, an irreplaceable component in that concoction.

Because they were those Legends, and those Legends were them.

They were created to be a Legend.

The striking memory made reminiscing feelings crawl on his back with hundreds of pointy, sharp edges, reaching his fingers and numbing them, so he held her even closer to his chest. He miraculously saved her that day, maybe that wouldn’t happen today, maybe it would never ever happen, but for that moment, while the world outside was launching celebratory colorful fires in the midnight sky, celebrating their deaths, he chose this moment of peace, on carpeted stairs, at a foreign hotel.

3- If you look back at your first fic compared to your last, what’s changed?

MANY THINGS, my writing style changed so much, my English got stronger as well (it’s my second language) and overall the way I write Armin and Annie changed, I feel like I never really wrote Annie correctly until recently, I don’t think I understood her enough.

4-Fanfic authors can be harsh on themselves, espically with older works, share three things you like about your first fic.

So my first fic is called Blue, but on Ao3 it’s called Kiss, (don’t ask, I have no idea how that happened either)

I wrote it in 2019, and posted it during Armin week in January 2020

This is the first time I even look back at it during these three years, and honestly it’s so hard to read something I’ve written so long ago.

I like how excited I was about it, how excited I was to share a story I wrote with people, I like how I wrote it with excitement about these characters, and I like how I always had my own way of describing feelings, which I still do until this day.

You can find it here on AO3, and here on TUMBLR

13- Do you use symbolism when writing fics? Tell us about it!

OH YEAH I DO, I add so much symbolism and descriptions and everything, especially with Legends, I basically poured every symbolism I have into this one story

I just enjoy it, SO MUCH

[resmarted]

i'm constantly searching out different pockets of samsara to find where i belong to no avail. nothing feels right enough, nowhere feels safe enough, inadvertently starving myself of the love i require to move all these mountains without a net to fall back into or a hope to cling onto. and you know me, you know i'm always doing the thing where i spoil people with love only to wind up the giving tree, lonely is such the martyr in me, i know. lately i am blistered and numb, food is tasteless and the little joys have become fewer and farther between. i yearn to ignore the horrors within so i learn every little detail about people i'll never see again and wonder about them in moments well past their casual departures. i find the intimate details in those closest to me even for moments, wonder aloud about their lives and count the freckles on their nose, and these have become my more delightful bits of time passing. i struggle with the notion of having no real use or place and then feeling despised any time i do make headway on potentially finding any little version of it. i don't want to feel alone so i put myself in situations with people where i only alienate and isolate deeper than had i never left my little hiding spot at all. i worry for people who in turn find me odd and unnerving, find reasons to excuse their treatment and the things they say that they think i can't hear. a real love thine enemies type conundrum. and look, i get it, okay? none of this is real and i am essentially being held hostage in a dark room, blindfolded into a state of constant projections and illusions. like fine, whatever, i've accepted it and can only play these silly little games at this point to distract from the pain of it all. constant hints of it being my fifth year in this realm since the reset and yet everyone seems to forget i have been here since the first dawn, i remember everything and i pierce through the veil a lot better than anyone thinks. and also it's like, who even cares at this point? i am starting to miss all the people who left me for dead. the bloody rabbit everyone is laughing at comes back to haunt them deep into the night but no one is laughing when furniture shakes and pictures fly off the walls as i'm demanding to play. nobody wants to play these games once i start winning, vicious children throwing their controllers in frustration at the monitors. i develop sixteen crushes in a week and have disconnected from all of them by noon. voids filled and then emptied again like water barrels in a flood storm, i am constantly reminded of how i cannot afford to be naive but so desperately want a companionship that only the huntsmen want to provide. and sometimes pride morphs into apathy through a rigorous programming of emotional starvation that eventually i'm just like, yeah that's fine, just make sure to love me before you destroy me. but then they don't even finish the job and i am left broken winged while someone feels too conflicted to face me. there's always someone that leaves me for dead but doesn't kill me, needs to explore what else is out there and when I manage to crawl out the grave, the anger boils and rage rushes through the winds because how dare I not only survive but move on? how dare i not sink deeper into the pit and wait ever so patiently with such gratitude for the dirt i am fed?

a couple of months ago i sobbed hysterically in my bathtub every night praying for a real friend and every day i look around and wonder, is it you? is this another trick? am i eternally placed in battlefields having to dodge the mines of deceit while other people get to leisurely laugh over beignets and reminisce about their wild night out with their trusted companions? people tell me to leave for my own good and i wonder if it's because they work for the enemy. i am constantly hiding in plain sight and have been my whole life, often veiled by a jealous man that wants to own me like a dog and barely feed me scraps even when i am being good, even when i so loyally and lovingly greet him at his feet and sing his praises better than anyone else. any sense of true love or friendship from anyone else and he is out to destroy it before it begins, wants to keep me in my little hole unseen and starving only for him. i wish to be untethered from all that attempts to deplete me of my light or siphon from me in any way, it's been so long now and i am so tired from being robbed. i want to look into a set of eyes that remind me how different the world can be if i just tilt my head a certain way and see it from a different axis point. i want to be one with the stars and to tell someone it's going to be okay even when we are both scared shitless, i know that when it comes from my voice it is more believable because even i start to become convinced. and i know that i can pull myself out of anything and survive the hardest hits, but i'm very tired from doing it alone for so long and it seems like there should have been some sort of reprieve by now. it is very exhausting never knowing who to trust and feeling like there is no one above corruption, that people will eye me suspiciously from vicious gossip and a looming sense that i can't possibly be the person i portray myself as, as if i could ever find the energy within me to put on an act after all this gut wrenching honesty i hand out so casually on a normal day. i want to live by the ocean, i want to be a child again, i want a path that isn't worn down by all the battered and broken people who did it before me. the energy needs to be cleared, the room feels too stuffy, my lens needs adjusting because all i can see is someone that everyone else wants to hunt down like ravenous beasts under a blood moon and i don't like the sound of butterfly nets clanking together when observing something so pretty and free. i know all too well what it means to be locked in a little cage by the watchful eyes of a possessive handler and i won't do it to someone else, even when the inkling starts to take over and i ache to hide away in these teeny tiny little pockets of samsara to kiss your face quietly while the stampede tramples everything in its path outside of us. and i feel stupid and sore and like the nightmare may never end, but then i look at you and for like, the smallest most miniscule moment, i can see the ocean and hear the waves and i swear to god i am a child again. i swear to god with you i am free.

[dontmindme-justpassingby]

A rant.

I can’t stop feeling like a fucked up burden. Not only on my family or friends, but on the whole fucking world. I can’t shake this nagging feeling that said world would be better off without me. That it would flourish and more people would be joyful without me in it. Without me making my surroundings so miserable, without me fighting every thought that crosses my brain just to keep the intrusive thoughts at bay.

I don’t feel safe anymore.

Not in my room, not in my house, not with my family, not alone, not in this society, not in this world.

I’ve been in a fight or flight or freeze mode for almost a year now and I can’t remember how I snapped out of my last episode of it.

I want to let go. To punch something. To hurt something. To hurt myself.

Life is getting to be too much.

My existence is getting to be too much.

Too much to bear, too little to fight for, not enough to hold on to.

I’m numb.

I haven’t shed a comforting tear in days, weeks, months and I’m terrified of the outburst I’m inevitable to go through but I can’t even force the tears out. Not even for an acting scene.

Part of my brain wishes to remain frozen in place whilst the other one craves the rush of jumping off a roof but I know one would provide temporary relief in a closeted prison which called disassociation when the other one would, theoretically, provide end to one suffering and start of another, more potent kind of suffering.

I can barely remember yesterday and only flashes of this week are all that’s left in my memory. Flashes from minutes, hours and days.

Just like I can’t remember much of last year and only flashes of my whole life are the only proof that I was actually “alive” and wasn’t merely put on this earth right now. That I had a childhood that I lived through things and saw things and took part of things which I have no recollection of.

I feel alienated. I feel wrong, out of place, as if I don’t belong here. I feel as though I should be somewhere else. In another reality because the one I’m living is so shitty not even a fly would wanna sniff it, let alone eat from it.

I could be more. I should be more is the mantra echoing itself from a distant, lightly dimed room in my brain. But the room is windowless and door-less and the only light source is a flickering candle for the oxygen is running out and even it can’t live on in such a tight space.

It wants out, needs out but the voice needs it so it chooses to kill itself, to suffer in silence, holding on to dear life just to illuminate the room still, until it no longer can. Until time comes for the both them for time always catches up.

But I guess being taken out as a pair is better than being singled out.

Right?

I hope so.

Or I might just finally manage to shed a tear for a missed life, thinking the candle deserved better.

Pooled have the tears but shed themselves they never did.

Perhaps they worry. Perhaps they refuse to drop in fear of extinguishing the still fighting-for-a-breath candle and so they hold back. Hoping an opportunity might still present itself for the gasping beauty and a wall would come crashing down, giving the candle a new breath to draw from so that the light might shine again and the voice wouldn’t despair. So it knows to get up, pick up the candle and go somewhere better. Away from the debris, away from the darkness, away from the loneliness of the closed off space so the tears might finally shed themselves with not fear but with pride.

I am alone. In my thoughts, in my room, in my house, in my society, in my life.

I am lonely. And I can’t remember how to enjoy it.

I reminisce on lost time, on lost opportunity, on lost friendships, on lost relationships, on lost energy and on lost thoughts. I reminisce on what could have been and on what I doubt has to come. I reminisce on clarity, on purpose, on worthiness and carelessness. I reminisce on freedom and acceptance and I reminisce a lost me.

So long my friend.

[anaknglard]

I'm drunk.

To celebrate my birthday.

I'm 19 now, damn, I feel so old now... I mean I can drink legally! I can go clubbing! I can...

Do things.

This reminds me of when I first went clubbing in pinas. I remember getting so shitfaced all I knew how to say was "I miss ****"... the security even told me to shut the fuck up.

I don't blame them.

I remember thinking after that... if ever I were to get drunk with you or go clubbing with you, I'd always be by your side.

Alot of the stereotypes of being drunk is that you'd become flirty with other men. Fuck that. If anything, I'd get even more affectionate towards you. I imagined that, that day. I imagined that on my birthday, we'd go to a bar together, or a club. I'd buy you earplugs because Lord knows how much your hearing is declining. We'd drink, get drunk, and make out on the dance floor.

Haha.... maybe I'm too delusional now.

I understand why a lot of people develop addictions to this now.

It numbs the pain. It makes you forget everything and just holds you in limbo til you wake up the next morning. A throbbing, stabbing pain in your head that serves as a harrowing reminder that your problems are still in your life.

I get it. Maybe that's what I've been doing the past couple of weeks.

Trying to forget.

That's all I've known, haven't I? I mean, come on. Trust. Every single time you reminisce, it kills you. It brings you pain that that person isn't there with you anymore.

but that's okay.

You've been telling yourself that, right?

Maybe if you say it enough times it'll come to fruition.

And fuck all, I know for a fact in writing this you're reminiscing. Hell, I know that you're reminiscing about that one time you and him spent time at your dorm.

Stop it.

It hurts, doesn't it?

Fuck.

When I'm alone, I've always considered myself to have two personalities. Not separate enough for a mental illness, but separate enough for me to rationalize them both.

I'm writing this in the serious, blunt personality one. The other one is much more childish and playful. A hopeless romantic. A delusional one.

In real life, I'd like to say I'm a great blend of both. A dash of delusion, anxiety and cynicism, but a big helping of enthusiasm, eagerness and love.

Love.

Damn, didn't think 4 letters could twist my throat in ways I could never imagine. I can't even find myself swallowing my saliva now, the 4 letters finding itself to be too large to swallow.

Love... huh?

I'm... drunk.

I like it that way.

I remember the time I held you at the bus stop, telling you that I'd do anything to have you again. I'd do everything.

I still would.

That's my blunt self talking.

Not the delusional one. Although I know alot of your friends call you that too. Alot of mine do as well.

I don't give a fuck.

Whether it be the delusional or the blunt one, both of us are set on something.

The blunt one less enthusiastic about it, since it takes into account all the pain that we've been through.

It's okay, though.

That's what makes us so similar, you and I.

Yes, you and I.

We've gone through alot for the people we love. And we are willing to go through alot for the people that we love. That's just innate, isn't it?

But every single time... it just hurts even more. When will it be enough? When will the pain stop..

And love start?

Is it a love for each other? A love for ourselves?

Maybe both is needed.

This fucking doesn't make any sense.

Fuck.

You swear alot when you're drunk, huh?

Not you.

Me.

Fuck.

One small part of me wishes that you'll wish me a happy birthday when my birthday comes this Tuesday. I don't plan on telling anyone it's my birthday because I hate celebrating my birthday. It's so awkward when people wish me happy birthday out of nowhere. I hate when there are days just dedicated to me. Let me just live. Alone. I'm working on my birthday though. Ugh.

But I don't mind birthday wishes if they're from you.

I don't mind anything, if its from you.

Shut the fuck up.

Fuck you.

No, I'm saying that to myself. Not you.

I don't know what to say.

It's 12:30 am on a school night and I am sitting in front of my finished lab report, exhausted.

I dread looking at your social media.

I dread seeing anything that suggests that you might be seeing someone else.

Last time I did that... God.

I can't think about it now.

I'm always going to be here for you.

If your heart aches, let me be the one to cradle it.

If your mind is tired, let me be the bed in which it relaxes.

If the world lets you down, let me be the hand to pick you back up.

If everyone seems to be against you, let me be your sole ally to go against them with you.

It's us... against the world.

Shut the fuck up. You drunk, poetic, clingy fuck.

I typed cringy but it autocorrected to clingy. That's correct too.

Who knew a message about a cafe date would turn out this way?

I don't give a fuck what anyone says anymore.

I need to sleep.

Sleep helps me delude even more.

Maybe I'll dream of you. I've been dreaming of you consistently over the past few weeks.

In what context?

Me holding you. Me coming over to your house and watching RuPauls Drag Race together. Us having a cafe date. Us walking the same path I used to follow on February 14, but in a softer, much more gentle loving context.

I'd hug you, and I'd nuzzle my head into your neck. Your cheek brushes against my hair.

"A bit scratchy, but you love it".

And even though smell doesn't exist in dreams, I'd smell so hard that pinch of your value village smell comes through.

I always referred to value village as being home-like.

You smell like home.

You feel like home.

Your face... with them pimples. Hahaahahahhahaha.

But I love it.

And I love you.

Ain't no fuckign way I just shed a tear typing that last shit out.

But I mean it.

Fuck.

Imma cry.

Fuck this.

Drunk and crying?

Fuck.

I love you.

I miss you.

And I'd do alot to get you back in my arms again. (From my last diary entry.)

Til next time, my love.

Formerly,

your Nick.