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wordsofelie · 2 months ago

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Chapter 5

🌅Don’t you dare runaway (A Phoenix and Ashes Sequel)

Miya Osamu x f!reader

Summary: Miya Osamu thinks some things will never change—Atsumu will always be annoying; his Ma’s food will always be the best and you will always be his favourite sunrise.

Content Warnings: Timeskip Setting, Manga Spoilers, ex!Suna, Swearing, Alcohol Consumption, Hurt

Words count: 3.3k

chapter 1 - chapter 2 - chapter 3 - chapter 4 - chapter 6 - chapter 7 - chapter 8

He is distancing himself from you.

There's no denying it, no other way to describe the situation. The days after your night out together, you text him more, but he takes ages to reply, and it’s usually short and detached responses. It stings every time your name pops up on his phone and he says nothing more than a few dismissive words.

A door is slowly closing between you two, but Osamu thinks it’s for the better. It's just a passing phase before your friendship returns to the way it was before (peaceful, obvious).

It breaks his heart one morning when you call him before work (it’s quite early but you know the restaurant is not open yet, so it’s the perfect time to have a chat with him). However, his responses are clipped.

“Am I interrupting something?” you ask when the call becomes more of a monologue than a discussion.

“Sorry,” he starts. “I’ve got a lot of work today.”

It’s Tuesday. You know his schedule, he knows that, and Tuesdays are the quietest days at the restaurant. He doesn’t even try to come up with a better excuse.

“Oh.” It’s a simple sound but he can sense the hurt in it. It makes him feel sick, almost as if a knife were twisting painfully inside him. “Call me when you have more time.”

He does call you back, but it’s not the same. His voice lacks warmth, the conversation feels forced. It’s as if he's putting up walls where there once were none. Again, Osamu might have underestimated you. You’re not naïve and you’re certainly not stupid. He can try lying and hiding the truth, you’ll eventually find out. It’s only a matter of days before the door gets double-locked, and bolted from the inside, shutting you out completely.

You still do spontaneous lunchtime visits at Onigiri Miya. And it’s harder for him to put a distance when you’re standing before him. But he must try, he tells himself. It’s only for the best, he’s doing that for you.

So, he avoids staying behind the counter to talk with you. He barely glances your way when he sets your plate in front of you and disappears into the kitchen.

The once-familiar space between you is now full of silence, an ache is growing in the places his absence touches.

One day, you ask if he wants to come to Nagano with you to ski.

“It’s almost the end of winter, if we don’t go now there won’t be any snow. You love snowboarding, right? Maybe you can teach me?”

You tell him about the cosy onsen you found with a beautiful view of Mount Yōtei. The whole program is planned, you would go snowshoeing, and eat soba noodles and the station is open at night so you could go ski after the sun goes down and—

But his answer is another deflection, “I can’t close the restaurant that long.”

“It’s just a weekend,” you argue gently. “You deserve a break Osamu. You haven’t taken a vacation in months. You’ll wear yourself out.”

He says nothing back; the pain in his chest intensifies.

“Did I do something wrong?” You mutter and he wants to tell you everything right then and there—to pour out the mess of emotions swirling inside him, the confusion, the longing. Because you look hurt and mad and confused; Osamu can’t bear to see those three expressions on your soft face. Especially if he’s the one causing them.

But instead, he shakes his head, eyes cast down. “Ya didn’t, I’m just busy.”

There’s a long pause before you speak again. Your throat seems tight when you tell him you’ll go home.

“I can drive ya.” He lifts his face, and behind his cap, he can see your features harden.

“Don’t bother.”

And just like that, you get out.

Osamu thought his attitude would help keep things the way they were. He’s just trying to protect your friendship, but perhaps pushing you away will lead to losing you entirely.

You’re not naïve nor stupid, but maybe he is.

Days pass, and his phone stays silent. You don’t stop by the restaurant during lunchtime. You don’t drop by his apartment in the evenings, and you don’t ask him to drive you home when you finish late anymore.

This is fine, Osamu tells himself when he realises your absence hurts more than expected.

Because soon it will be easier. He’ll forget about his dying heart, and you’ll forgive him for the wall he built.

It’s Friday night and the Jackals want to celebrate their last practice together before dedicating their time to the National Team and preparing for the upcoming Olympics. Naturally, Atsumu knows exactly where they should go.

And it’s Onigiri Miya.

When Osamu picks up the call from his brother, the latter asks him if they can come.

“Sure, when d’ya think ya’ll arrive?” The man asks, already mentally preparing for the influx of loud, hungry athletes.

“Actually…”

Osamu doesn’t need to be informed of more when he hears the unmistakable sound of Bokuto’s booming voice even before the door opens.

“SAM-SAM,” the outside hitter shouts with enthusiasm. “Hey! Hey! Hey! Gooood evening!”

Osamu barely has time to register Atsumu’s muffled laughter on the phone, the door swings open with Bokuto leading the charge, followed by Meian and the entire team of his brother.

“Is it true that you’re doing smoked salmon onigiri now?” Bokuto asks loudly, his eyes gleaming, “Can I have five of them?”

“Nagisa,” Osamu calls after his new employee, “Please get the table ready and take the orders. I’ll go preparin’ the starters.” He looks at him with a grin, “ya’ll see, after them, nothing will ever scare ya again.”

The young man gulps as if he had just been challenged by a final boss on a videogame. He glances at the players and wipes his sweaty hands on his apron.

“I’ll-I’ll do my best.” He says, voice almost shaking, and it makes Osamu want to burst into laughter.

Before going to the kitchen, he scans the room rapidly with his eyes, seeking a pretty face and a beautiful smile (you). But you’re not here. He doesn’t know if It’s a relief or a shame—either way, he needs to pretend he is okay, act as if his heart wasn’t wounded.

But then, Hinata says your name and you enter the shop.

You look his way after being greeted by your co-workers; he is already staring. You smile gently and it softens him.

Maybe you aren’t so mad at him, maybe you can be friends again?

When he turns to the kitchen, he doesn’t hear you behind him. It’s only when you put a box on the worktop that he notices your presence.

“I stopped by a bakery nearby, to buy cakes.” You explain quietly.

“Oh,” he replies, “ya didn’t have to.”

“That’s my line.” You chuckle and cross your arms.

He opens his mouth. His gaze is fighting to hold yours, but his mind is stronger and he ends up looking down at the floor.

“Thanks for having us. It’s a bit last minute, but the boys really wanted to do something tonight.”

He nods as a reply and the conversation stops here.

“Then,” you start with hesitation, “I’ll see you later.”

You turn to leave but right before you do, he exclaims, “Two sesame onigiri?”

There is some sort of doubt in his voice where there shouldn’t be because gosh, he knows those are your favourites. He’s made so much for you for the past years. Still, he’s acting with so much precaution tonight.

“Yes, please.”

“Osamu?” You say his name softly, “are we good?”

(Soon, we will, his mind informs him, his heart disagrees.)

This time he doesn’t look away when he acquiesces and a smile blooms on your face.

As soon as you are out of sight, he dips his hand in water and start shaping the rice.

It’s intense, serving 10 grown-up men. Osamu fears to see his young apprentice collapses before the end of the night. He tries to give him a hand with the service while taking care of the food.

“Osamu-san,” Nagisa tells him, a bit breathless, “I can take care of the-”

A loud sound echoes in the room when he drops a tray. You’re fast to help him and Osamu clean up the mess. Nagisa bows approximately a hundred times in shame, but you pat his shoulder and lean closer to his ear.

Your friend raises an eyebrow when he sees Nagisa looking his way with big eyes.

“I can’t believe Osamu-san did that.”

“Huh? Why did I do?” He asks, baffled.

“Nothing, nothing”, his employee quickly retreats, avoiding further explanation.

You smile shamelessly and with a teasing tone you recall, “Remember when you worked at Ramen Kazuya? You dropped three plates in your first week. I just told him that so he could feel better, you know.”

He groans before rolling his eyes, “Thought Mizusawa-san would kill me, but instead, he laughed.”

Osamu remembers that day clearly—once, twice, thrice, plates had shattered this week, broth splattered across the floor. His hands had trembled as he looked up, expecting the worst. But instead of scolding him, his former boss, had burst into hearty laughter, “Don’t worry about the plates, Osamu-kun”, he’d explained, wiping his hands on his apron. “It’s just glass. What matters is the people ya feed, not the dishes ya serve it on.”

It was that kind of wisdom that stuck with Osamu long after Mizusawa passed away three years ago. The old man believed food was more than just nourishment. “Food brings people together," he always said. “Never let a man starve, Osamu-kun. Whether it’s a stranger, a friend, or even yer own soul—feed them.”

When Mizusawa became sick and too weak to continue working, he’d entrusted the restaurant to Osamu, saying, “It’s your turn now. Make it yours.” The ramen shop had been his home, and one day, Osamu transformed it into Onigiri Miya. He often thinks of the man and hopes that if he were able to sit at one of his tables, he would eat his onigiri with pride.

Osamu blinks, returning to the present. He catches your eye, there’s a faint smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. For a second, it feels like the old days—like when you were just two friends sharing memories without any complications.

“He really was a good man,” you say. “He took you as his apprentice, taught you so much and he never stopped believing that you would be a great chef.”

“Ya’ve also believed in me…”, he whispers, the words slip out without him meaning to.

But then you frown slightly, and he realises his voice hasn’t reached you.

“What did you-”

“Bokuto’s callin' ya.” He cuts you short and your frown deepens. Confusion becomes disappointed and once again Osamu knows he hurt you.

You glance towards Bokuto, who’s waving eagerly for you to come. You sigh, though it’s clear the frustration isn’t directed at the outside hitter. No, it’s for Osamu.

“I really don’t understand what’s wrong with you…”

He clenches his fists.

It’s a carousel of constant push and pull between you two.

You are kind, he puts distance; you get upset, he offers you warmth.

Everything Osamu intends to do; he ends up doing the opposite. It’s like he can’t help but sabotage the connection that was once so effortless. He wants to let you in, but every time he tries, something holds him back. You no longer look at him now and it only adds to the knot tightening in his chest.

He’s about to lose his mind.

“’Samu!” Atsumu exclaims, slinging an arm over his brother’s shoulder. “Let’s have a drink.”

The setter doesn’t give him a choice, and, in an instant, Osamu finds himself confined between his twin and Meian (and that man is broad).

Three beers later, Osamu’s mind start to lose focus of the conversation. Meian is passionately arguing that girls with long hair are prettier, while Atsumu seems to disagree—or maybe it's the other way around. Honestly, Osamu doesn’t care. Types? Preferences? None of that has ever mattered much to him. Still, his tipsy mind toys with the idea, and for a moment, he wonders what his own type is.

What was his ex like?

He doesn't even remember that. And to tell the truth, he can't think of any other girl but you.

His gaze falls on you, and suddenly, the room feels smaller, his chest a little tighter.

You’re standing close to the counter, smiling with all your teeth. This time, you don’t catch him staring, probably because your eyes are directed to another man.

Osamu never craved anyone’s attention before now. It’s only normal that you get along with Atsumu’s teammates now that you work with them full-time as their communication manager, he would even say that he is happy to see you fulfilling yourself in your work. What he doesn’t like, though, is the proximity between you and Sakusa. Workmates don’t need to look at each other like that and touch each other arms (doesn’t the guy hate physical contact by the way?) Why are you laughing like he just said the joke of the year? Sakusa can’t be that funny, he tries to reassure himself. You’re probably just polite. You always are.

“-mu-san, Osamu-san?”

“Oh, Shoyo, sorry. You were sayin’?” Osamu clears his throat to come back to his senses.

“Can I get another set of onigiri?” The younger man grins.

“Smoked salmon?”

“Yes Sir.”

Osamu gets up to execute Hinata's request and doesn’t leave the kitchen after that. At first, he tells himself it’s to avoid further hurt, to spare himself from the sting of seeing you with Sakusa. But as the minutes pass, he realises that is mind can be awfully imaginative.

Staying hidden does nothing to quiet the storm in his mind, in fact, it makes everything worse.

His thoughts spiral to stupid scenarios. What are you two talking about? Are you closer to him now? Is Sakusa touching your hand when he should be the one doing so? His brain is running wild with images of fleeting glances, soft laughs, and whispers shared just out of his sight.

“I’ll tell ‘Samu we’re leavin’.” He hears his twin say. He doesn’t turn when he is bid goodbye.

“Yer okay, man? Should I wait for ya?” Atsumu takes a step closer, but Osamu just wants to brush him off, close the restaurant and go to bed.

“No, just go home, I’ll come later.”

The blond-haired man is about to do as told when you enter the kitchen.

“Atsumuu, do you think I should ask Kiyoomi out?” The words slip out before you can stop them. There’s excitement in your voice. It punches Osamu in the gut.

His hands still on the plate he is washing. His jaw tightens, and he doesn’t look at you.

“Oh, Osamu, you’re here…I-I wanted to say something to Atsumu.” You probably drank as much as him otherwise why would you be surprised to see Osamu in his own kitchen? And why would confess something like that to his brother? He’s not your best friend, he’s the one you should share secrets with, not Atsumu. And above all, you seem distracted. You take a step back, and don’t pay attention as your hand grazes a hot stove. Osamu reacts instantly, grabbing your arm with a sharp tug. “Watch out!” Osamu’s voice is harsher than he intended. “It’s fuckin’ burnin’, ya could’ve hurt yerself.”

“I didn’t see the-” “Sure, ya didn’t,” he snaps, cutting you harshly. “Why’re ya always so dense?”

(Dense to what? His feelings?)

Your eyes widen. “Why are you yelling at me?” Your voice wavers, but you stand your ground, and you pull away from him abruptly.

Osamu’s face twists with frustration, as if he’s struggling to find the right words. He mumbles something under his breath, but it’s too late. You’ve already stepped back, your defences up.

“Thanks for caring, Osamu, but I’m not a child,” you say coldly, grabbing your bag. “I don’t know what’s going on with you tonight, but don’t put it on me.”

A heavy silence invades the room and Atsumu finds it hard to to break it.

“That was harsh…” He ends up saying.

Osamu glowers at him, “I have nothin’ to say to ya.”

“Fine, if ya want to be alone.”

Everyone leaves, Osamu stays.

Tonight was supposed to be one step forward, it ended up being a thousand steps back.

It’s the end of winter, Osamu should be skiing with you right now if he didn’t turn you down, but instead he’s whipping the front of his shop. The night has been cold and windy, it has left a few frosted patches on the pavement.

But the sun is shining bright now, Spring is almost here and the frosted patches become water.

He hates this weather. Not completely cold, but not completely warm either. He doesn’t know if he should take his jumper off, but if he does, he’ll get sick and—

Osamu sighs before letting himself fall on a chair. It’s not even 8 a.m, and yet, he feels already way too tired. He looks down at his lap blankly.

“Hey.”

Kita’s silhouette hides him from the burning sun.

Osamu greets him back, a little bit surprised.

“Ya weren’t expectin’ me?” The older one says with a teasing smile.

“I-I was yes, I just didn’t hear ya arrive.” Osamu gets up, “let's get the rice.”

The next moment, the two men take out the bags from Kita’s car. The task helps Osamu’s mind ease a little. Simple moves like lifting and carrying calm his storming thoughts. He is thankful for Kita’s quietness and finds a strange comfort in the silence between them.

Before his former captain leaves, Osamu offers him a drink. They’re sitting outside the restaurant when Kita gives him news from the farm, “By the way, ‘Ba-chan says hi.”

“That's nice. Say thanks for me.”

Osamu feels the questioning gaze of Kita lingering on him, but his eyes remain directed to the glass in his hands.

Then, he says your name and the younger man immediately turns to him (it wasn’t hard for Kita to know how to get Osamu’s attention), “'ba-chan asked about her. She really enjoyed her company; she wonders when ya’ll come back.” He pauses for a second, “both of ya.”

For some reason, Osamu feels ashamed and guilty.

There’s a knot inside his throat, if he wants to untangle it, Osamu knows he has to spit it out.

So, he tells Kita everything. How he wished for your friendship to remain the same, how he tried to put a distance between you to protect that friendship, how he felt when he saw you with Sakusa last night and how let out his anger on you and hates himself for it.

“She talked back at you?”

“So what?” Osamu finds it strange that this is all his friend picks up on.

“I’m not an expert but from what I observed back when they were datin’, she never talked back at Suna.”

“Sure, she didn’t, he was her boyfriend, I’m just a friend.” Osamu grunts through his teeth.

“Mmh, just a friend, if you say so.” He mumbles.

Kita gets up, Osamu has always been taller than him, but this morning he feels incredibly small.

There’s a smile at the edge of Shinsuke’s lips, “I’ll come back next month for the delivery. I bet everyone’s already told ya, but ya need vacations. Yer not seein' clear right now and yer brain’s gonna switch off at some point.”

They exchange farewells, and as soon as Osamu is on his own again, he turns to looks at his shop and takes a deep inspiration.

“Good morning, Miya-kun.” An old lady from the neighbourhood greets him as she passes by, “yer closin’ the restaurant today?” She wonders when she sees him locking the door.

“Yes. I’ll be back next week.”

She smiles gently at him, “then, enjoy young man.”

He thanks her and doesn’t turn back as he settles into his car. He calls his mum once he has started the engine.

“Ma’,” he says, “Can I come home?”

author notes: our man is finally taking some holidays, everyone says thank you to kita

taglist: @wolffmaiden, @teyvatsunsets, @obibiwan, @sugacor3, @sunahsvt, @iluv-ace

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miseta · 14 days ago

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Chapter 12 ➺ Broken nights

Starting over In Madrid

Misa Rodriguez x Reader (Nicky/first person)

After moving to Madrid as the new Real Madrid photographer, Nicky's eyes can't look away from the pretty face of Misa Rodriguez. But how is she going to handle her growing desire for the Canarian goalkeeper when her working contract's strictly forbidding her to date players? Chapter 1 ➺ A harder job than I thought Chapter 2 ➺ Clearly on a bad slope Chapter 3 ➺ Calmly panicking Chapter 4 ➺ Hell Clasico Chapter 5 ➺ Valleys and peaks Chapter 6 ➺ Paris est magique! Chapter 7 ➺ In the haze Chapter 8 ➺ Confusion and directions Chapter 9 ➺ A place for words Chapter 10 ➺ Not a cloud in sight Chapter 11 ➺ Dangerous steps TW: angst 5K words

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

Hayley entered the hospital room with a rather anxious face. Bright vivid lights tinted the place with a gloomy atmosphere ironicaly contrasting with the poster of child playing at the beach hung to the wall.

I’d looked at the frame for hours, the random boring picture now printed on my retina. My phone had died, and I had no charger so I had nothing to do excepted to wait for something, someone to come visit me or bringing me the precious device that could connect me to the world.

In the meantime, nurses had reassured me that I was okey and that they had contact my parents and the club to reassured them as well. However, I felt helpless, still shaken by my accident, and stressed out by how things were going for the team and for Misa. Her anxious face was printed in my mind too, having my mouth dry as I imagined her own distress when she had had no news of me for hours.

Now, Hayley’s visit was like sunshine after a storm, lighting my gloomy bedroom with her friendly presence. However, her coming alone didn’t reassured me at all, showing, on the contrary, the absence of the person I wanted to see most.

“Here you are Nicky!” My friend greated me, smiling mildly.

“Hey Hayley, yeah, here I am…”, I replied, lifting my banded arm with a wince as the Aussie came at my bedside.

“Sweetie, in what a state you are…”, she said patting my shoulder with a pout. “What did the doctors said ?”

“Seven stitches on the arm and two on my waist, but fortunately nothing’s broken and the scanner’s good too. I’ll probably count the bruises tomorrow though”

Hayley broke a smile, reassured. “Good to hear it from your mouth even if all the team already know you’re all right. As you imagine, we called the clinic to check on you as soon as the match ended.”

I opened my mouth but Hayley went on before I could speak. “We lost. 1 to 3”.

Silence filled the room as we gazed at each other, our look heavy with what the score implied.

“Where’s…”

“Misa.” The winger finished. “Hum, everything has been hard for her, she… she’s processing… things and it’s too risky for her to come right now”, Hayley answered.

My mouth was becoming really dry and I grasped my wrist in a reassuring gesture, feeling the bracelet Misa had gave me under my thumb.

“Hayly, tell me what happened since I fell onto that fucking glass, all of it please.”

The winger sighed but her voice was calm, “When you fell, Misa rushed at your side immediately and when they took you away, well, Misa did her best to look normal. We were all shocked and scared for you of course but Misa… she cares about you like a girlfriend does, you know that, and she had a really hard time to refocus on the match…”

I buried my face in my hand, wincing again when moving my left arm, “So she took three goals… I’m really spoiling everything…”

Hayley tried her best at conforting me, “Nobody’s mad about you Nicky, especially not Misa! She’s mad at herself above all.”

“Then why isn’t she here?” I asked, anger building as I needed her here with me so badly.

“To protect you. Lea’s figured it out. Misa told me. She probably got it as soon as she saw Misa completely panicking at the sight of you lying on the floor covered in blood, and during the match, it’s true Misa did some pretty bad mistakes. Anybody could tell it wasn’t her night. We agreed I’d visit you not to draw more attention on her at the moment because I had to skip debrief to be able to come during visit hours. But she’ll call soon. Oh speaking of that…” Hayley pulled a charger out of her bag. “Here! You know when you’ll be out?”

“Tomorrow morning for sure”, I sighed, Hayley helping me to plug my phone to the charger.

“Great, Misa asked me to told you she’s going to pick you up. I’ve to go home Nicky but feel free to call whenever you want!”

“Thank you so much, you’re a real friend.”

“Take care, sweetie” the Aussie brushed my hair affectionately before going out of the room.

I turned on my phone as soon as she was gone. As I expected, I had dozens of messages from my parents and friends wishing me a prompt recovery. I smiled at seeing the red circle with the number eleven on it next to Misa’s name.

17h47 Mi cari… I hope you’re well… we’re heading to the pitch I’m leaving my phone. 17h48 I’m thinking of you 💛 18h51 hope everything’s alright, I guess you can’t answer me right now 20h05 I was worrying sick but we called the clinic and they told us you’re okay and that you’re unreachable! 20h16 Lea clocked me, I can’t come to see you it’s too risky We talked and she’s cool she won’t say anything 20h27 Hayley’s gonna come with a charger she on her way 20h41 call me when you can Love you

I didn’t wait one more minute to press the little phone sign on the screen, my chest tightening at the dialing sound lasted.

“Cari! How are you?”

It felt so good to just hear her voice.

***

“Oww!”, I moaned at the feeling of the compress being pulled of my wound.

“Perdon! It’s well stuck!”, the goodie excused herself while she slowly pulled the piece of medical tape appart from my skin. She delicately finished to remove my old dressing and put sanitizer on a coton pad. “Does it hurt?” She asked as she applied the cotton on the still fresh stitches.

“No, it’s just a little sensitive now.”

I watched her concentrating on the task. Her brows twitched or lifted now and then, her plump lips pinching like they usually did when she was focusing on something.

Misa continued to clean my wound a couple of minutes with much care, then she made a new dressing with compress and tape.

“We’re done here!” She said lifting her brown eyes toward mine. “You lie down on the sofa so I can change the one on your back”.

I nodded and stroke her forehead softly before doing as told. “Thanks for taking care of me, Love.”

“De nada”, she murmured and started humming a song while cleaning the other stitches.

“Porque desde que estás aquí Aquí cerca de mí Que tú eres mi baby Y ese recuerdo de tenerte sin ropa

Que no me deja dormir Sigo pensando en ti Que tú eres mi baby Y ese recuerdo de tenerte sin ropa”

I recognized the song of our holidays in Formentera, her melodious voice was like water, slowly running down, so much softer than the other Spanish people and having me wondering where that came from.

“Misa, can I ask you something?”

“Si, claro”

“Why am I feeling you don’t talk like Madrid Spanish people do? Do you have an accent?”

She chuckled at my question “Es el acento canario! We skip a lot of letters like the letter S. For exemple, I don’t say España but E’paña. Mas goles is ma’ gole’”.

“Ohhhh, I see now! That’s why I thought nothing was plural for you ahahah! outch!“ I winced again, the scar on my back was still sore. “Tell me something else about the canaries.” I inquired, curious about her birthplace and wishing to focus on something else than the pain.

“You already know my island is Gran Canaria, the round one. We have a micro climate in Canaria’, it’s 25 degrees and sunny almost all year. La’ Palma’ is one of the biggest city of E’paña.”

Now that she’d explained it, I noticed every missing S in her way of speaking.

“Oh ok, that seems great! Is there a metro or tramway in Las Palmas?”

“No but our wawa network works well!” Misa answered proudly.

I didn’t understand what she was taking about so I repeated interrogatively, “Wawa?”

“Jaja, yes, we call our buses Wawa’ and again I’m not really pronouncing the letter G, you spell it G-U-A-G-U-A.”

“Guagua”, I echoed.

Misa chuckled once more as she finished to put compress and tape on my second wound. She sprayed a bit of sanitizer on a bad bruise close by that sent a shiver through my body, “I love mi i’la - my island - I love Madrid too but it’s not the same and all my family is there…” she paused and pulled my T shirt back down, “It’s all done, we’re good for two days”.

I sat up on the couch, looking again into her eyes, and guilt surged at the thought of how caring she was when I was the reason of the nasty game she had endured. Misa seemed to guess my unease and frowned slightly.

My finger tips smoothed her furrowed brows, the goalkeeper closing her eyes and enjoying my little touches on her face. “Hummm”, she sighed as I scratched her scalp, and she rested her head against my chest. Her arms surrounded my waist and she hugged me tight, my fingers rubbing through her hair. “Are you going to be alright on your own when I’ll be gone with the team?”

“Yes, don’t worry, I’m off work until your return and a nurse will be coming to check on me. I’ll be alright. Really Misa, do not worry about me okey?” I insisted, dreading to be the source of an other failure.

“Vale, tiene’ razón… Let’s go in bed, my flight’s early tomorrow.”

***

TV was set up, diner ready, my medicine taken and my dressing changed. From the sofa where I sat on in the cosiness of my home, I was bracing myself for the kick off of the Champion’s League second game, Real Madrid versus Juventus.

The whistle blowed and the match began, the sorting deciding Madrid were having the ball.

Straight from the start, Caroline Weir rushed past the Italian defenders, aiming for Signey Brunn, Signey striking hard and fast and the ball rebound on the fists of the goalkeeper. Yet, Caroline had moved forward and was in best position to recover that ball, quick enough to send it right into the cage before Payraud-Magnin had the time to dive for it again. The players burst of joy, and so do I, jumping from the sofa and howling in pain as the wound on my waist woke up from standing up too fast.

The ball was given back to Juventus but they quickly lost it again. The following minutes were a succession of lost balls and touches, both goalkeepers having very little to do appart from staying focused.

On the 35th minute, Sofia Cantore managed to get between Rocio and Olga and ended up doing a nice center, recovered by Cristiana Girelli who shot right at the left goal corner. Misa jumped high toward the ball but could do nothing but stare helplessly as it landed at the back of net. Cheers from the crowd. Silence from the other side. The shot had been neat and strong, really hard to stop but Misa pulled a face. Taking a goal was always hard to swallow.

Moreover when the Italian attaquant Sofia Cantore escaped on her own right after the goal kick and went back straight to the cage. Misa readied herself for the shot but decided at the last minute to come out of the penalty area, rushing at the ball coming to her at full speed. Although, Sofia shot before Misa could reach her, and Real Madrid took its second goal.

My stomach began to knot, the Misa coming off her goal line had been a big mistake, hardly punished for having taking the risk of leaving her cage exposed. The camera lasted a moment on the goalie’s tense face, her jaw clenched, frustrated and angry with herself when that goal could have been saved if she had thought better. Thus, Juventus had taken the lead because of it.

Fortunately, the second half time started much better, Caroline and Linda managing to score respectively at the 61th and 79th minute, having me fidgeting of joy but remaining seated quietly on the sofa in fear of pain.

However, everything changed past the 85th minute. Juventus managed to get a corner, shooting it nicely to the waiting head of Estelle Cascarino, her header sending it right into Misa’s gloves. The goalkeeper’s grip wasn’t firm enough and the ball slipped away from her outstretched hand, falling onto the grass and rolling lazily to Estelle’s feet. The defender took her second chance, kicking swiftly into the opened part of the cage. Misa was defeated. Not grasping the ball was a beginner mistake.

I shrank into the couch, afraid, only to see Juventus taking the ball back toward Misa’s cage, Misa bracing herself for the attack again, clearly panicked to take yet another goal. Maelle Lakrar succeeded at tackling the Italian striker nicely and the ball rolled to the feet of Olga, but she was pressed hard by Cantore preventing her to cleared away the ball. After a few unsuccessful dribbles, Olga finally decided to pass the ball back to Misa. Girelli rushed to the goalkeeper as soon as she had the ball, having Misa to do a quick clearance to put away the danger. However, Misa cleared straight in front of the goal and her pass was intercepted by the midfielder Ariana Caruso, shooting high in the air. Misa followed the ball running backward, ready to jump to catch it but it decended at hand level right behind the goalie. Misa jumped, the tips of her gloves touching the ball only to see it hitting the roof of the net.

I could not watch anymore. Misa stayed lying on the grass, the Italian player and crowd screeches field the stadium. The filming framing doesn’t allowed me to see more of Misa’s despair but I didn’t need it to know this was bad. Very bad.

I cleared the remaining of my meal and did the dished, my mind clouded. I heard the whistle signal the game ending. Three to four. Misa had taken four goals facing a clearly dominated team. Three of them could have been avoided to the least.

This was bad. Misa’s wasn’t well. I had never saw her played like that.

My heart sank as I waited for her to call me, not daring to send her a message myself when she knew I had seen that awfull match.

But two hours later, I had no call, no messages.

I wrote her a short text, “I hope you’re well, call me when you can”.

Time got by and she didn’t answered, my angst growing crazy until I could stand no more, and called her. The dialing sound lasted, having me wondering anxiously if she was going to pick up.

“Hola…”, the goalie finally answered but her voice was hoarse. Had she been crying?

“Hey Mis’… how are you?” I sensed my saliva drying in my mouth.

“Buah, not very well I guess…”

Silence settled between us as I waited for her to go on, however, she said nothing else, thus I inquired with caution, “Fuck, sweetie… is there anything I can do?”

I heard her sniff and sight heavily and angst gripped me a little more, “eh… no, I… we…”

But the woman stopped to let a rasping breath and my stomach knotted itself entirely. Dread crashed onto my body as I stayed floating in the awful quietness. I muttered a voiceless prayer but deep inside I knew what was coming next.

“I think we should stop”.

If only I could have been wrong.

Silence settled again and I could only hear the loud and fast beats of my heart. I swallowed almost nothing, my mouth dryer than after a run.

“Lo siento mucho”, the strangle voice of Misa said through the phone. “ I can’t…”

“…go on like this, I know,” I finished. Tears streamed from my eyes but my body was numb with shock, I felt I had stopped breathing.

“You… should get the chance to fulfill your work aspirations…”, she added.

I really couldn’t breath anymore, through air indeed went in and out of my lungs.

“…and I need to focus back on mine”, she concluded. Her sniffs achieved to break my heart into pieces.

She’s right.

But I love her.

But she’s right. I’m not doing her any good, I’m even ruining her performances… I shouldn’t fight for this.

“I…get it”, because I love you, I added in my mind. “I guess I’m going to hang up now… too hard.” I managed to articulate, my body fighting against the sobs trying to come out now.

“I’m so sorry… take care Nicky”

My chest shook uncontrollably for containing the sobs. I couldn’t say anything, still I couldn’t hang up after all. It would mean it would be over. Our relationship would end with the call.

But then it hit me.

It was over already, we had just break up.

I spoiled a minute trying to regain my ability to speak, my blurred sight composing the soft features of her face as tears and sobs escaped madly.

“Take care, you’re the best, Love…” I finally stuttered in a broken voice and I found the strength to press the red circle just after.

I dropped my phone on the sofa, fighting to retake my breath as sobs took all over my body with an inimaginable strength. Every inches of my being ached, my mind drowning in unbearable pain. It was over. We were no more. Of course she’d break up. What was I thinking dating a woman like her. I should be grateful for having her for some months.

But I couldn’t. Pain and numbness was all I could feel.

I couldn’t stand it.

I couldn’t.

Time had stopped. Life frozen.

I had dragged myself to bed where I was now lying for hours, unable to sleep, unable to stop crying, unable to do anything else but stare blankly at the ceiling. Destroyed once again, I was lost in the worst part of a break up, the realization of it, of her absence, suffocating, when her presence lingered everywhere in my small home. Her toothbrush was waiting in the bathroom, some of her clothes and underwear in my closet, special ingredients for her diet remained in the kitchen.

I tossed and turned, fighting to not drown in pain, my sadistic mind picturing her smile with her dimple on her left cheek. She was slouched in the sofa, wasting her time on her phone before joining me in bed. She was about to come now, tired and needy before sleeping, as usual. She was about to wake me up from this nightmare. It had to.

I spent the night fighting against sleep as I knew too well I would be dreaming of her holding me close. But when dawn approached I sunk in a troubled dream where I looked for her without succeeding at finding her. When I finally reached her, Misa’s broad smile faded away and I woke up with a jolt, my arm probing the bed for her conforting body and falling onto the cold flatness of the mattress beside me.

Everything was upside down. I had woken up in a nightmare, jet-lagged and dehydrated, reality crushing me once more as I realized the break up was real.

***

Two days later I was back to work, should I say back to hell. The Cuidad was no longer the familiar and reassuring place I knew but the ghostly reminder of my gone happiness. Misa’s presence had leaked everywhere here too, from the field, where fortunately I rarely went, to my office, to the locker room and the photo studio. The Cuidad was where everything had begun, the witness of our friendship and attraction slowly turning into love and care. When she dumped me, Misa took everything I’d built here and even if it was true I was happy before we started dating, I couldn’t imagine that happiness coming back now.

Therefore, I tried to focus on work and it worked a few hours, until I had to modify a close shot of the goalie, my eyes immediately filling with tears at the sight of the features I loved so much. I kept crying as I cropped her silhouette to put it a new background. Once again, Misa was everywhere, to the very content of my work, having me trapped in an infinite sadness as more pictures of her popped on the screen. I quitted my office to get some air, but mostly to smoke the cigarettes I had bought on the way. But smoking didn’t appeased my broken heart the slightest and I ended up crying like a child in the bathroom, grasping the thin bracelet attached to my wrist I hadn’t had the strength to take off.

On the next day, I felt lost, wandering aimlessly in the corridor, both dreading and hoping to fell on her waiting for the elevator or on my way to the parking lot. I had not seen the goalie since our break up, our goodbyes on the phone the last words between us. I navigated between numbness and sadness, exhausted by trying to get a grip, to block all thoughts and emotions toward her. On the evening, I spent hours on the phone with Angela, smoking like a fireman, telling her everything, crying more, hurting more. My best mate never mentioned the fact that she foresaw it happening and I was grateful for that. Angela wasn’t like that. I could always count on her.

But even Angela couldn’t confort me like Misa did, only her had the ability to make me smile in a heartbeat with a bad joke or a silly pout no matter how bad my day was. Only her could really take the stress away in those hard moments. Misa gone, I also lost my confident and protector.

Fortunately, I started preparing the photo exhibition and was surprised to feel almost good about it. I buried myself into it entirely, putting all my denied feelings at showing my dedication for my job at the Real. While everything else was gone, being a photographer had stayed a consistence source of joy in my life, granting me self confidence and allowing me to express myself artistically. Somehow like a therapy, I worked for days, selecting shots, discussing exhibition and displays directions, retouching images, until I was satisfied of every pictures and the way they were going to be shown.

So in spite of all, I started to get better days after days. Not to say enjoyable, but life seemed livable again. I got used to the fade taste not leaving my mouth, smoking not helping, the cold gray weather of the end of November matching my mood. Nothing really appealed me anymore apart photography. Things happened or did not and I didn’t care, but at least the upcoming exhibition helped me not to feel completely distraught.

And I needed it badly as I endured seeing Misa again during matches and for specific communication needs. We didn't exchanged a word, barely looking at each other but those moments of relative proximity kept stirring emotions I was trying so hard to bury.

Thus, I didn't expected for her to come to find me after a particularly good game against la Real Sociedad.

Smoking outside the stadium, my heart leaped when I saw her walking toward me and I even took a glimpse behind my shoulder to check if there could be someone else she wanted to meet. But there wasn’t, and there was no doubt allowed anymore as she stopped right in front of me, her hands in her pockets and her glance dark when she saw me light up another cigarette.

“Hey“, she said, looking away.

“Hey“, I answered coldly. If she wanted to talk to me she’d better do it, I was not going to make it easier for her.

“I have something to tell you. The all team guessed the "misacertijo", they know it’s you I was seeing. I didn’t confirm it but it’s pretty obvious without having to say anything.“

Misa lift her gaze back to me. How weird it was to be that close to her again. Something waggled in my numb body as I searched about what to answer. Of course everybody had guessed who Misa was dating. We were always friendly and close but suddenly we both started to avoid each other. Neither of us were having the strength to pretend being in good term.

“Hum, ok. Thanks for telling me.“ I finally said and Misa furrowed her brows.

“You’re not worried about it?“

“Nobody has proof and they’re not going to get one since it’s over…“, I explained more bitterly than I wanted to.

Misa seemed to study me a moment and her intense gaze made my throat tighten. She had to stop looking at me like that.

“I heard your photo exhibition is opening soon?“

My breathing fastened slightly. What was she playing at?

“Yes it is. The opening will be on the 20th of December.“

“Well done, I’m happy for you“, she said peering down at her feet.

She looked so usure, could I say sad? Something hot and growling stirred in me again and I took another puff of my cigarette to dismiss the feel. “Thanks, and well done for tonight as well. That was quite a match. You seem to be doing great.“

“I’m working hard, thanks...“ Misa said, her lips sketching the start of a smile and her brown eyes found mine again a moment. A moment during she seemed to be thinking of thousands of things, opening her mouth and closing it a few times as I kept on smoking slowly to hide my confusion.

“What about that?“ She finally asked pointing my cigarette with disgust.

At first, I didn’t knew exactly why that made me so angry, but I quickly got why I was suddenlty so furious. Her jugement on what I was doing with my life, a life she had chosen not to be part of, was the last thing I needed. Moreover, she was the very reason of me smoking again.

So, I pursed my lips, answering with a hard stare. “This is none of your business!“

I crushed my roach in the ashtray, taking the path to the parking lot without another look back at her.

And of course, I cried again that evening and during many other after it.

***

Champagne and cocktails flowed freely, lounge music filling the vast reception hall. Bottles were opened and poured in stemmed glasses at an enticing rhythm, the loud pops creating a funny addition to quiet notes in the background. But despite the wonderful decor, I was nervous.

Of course, I was nervous. I wasn’t used to being under the spotlights, moreover in a foreign country, at a party of the most famous football club of the world. I glanced at the corridor showing of few of my photographies and my gaze rested a moment on a particular shot. It was a photo of Misa and Hayley sat in our pitch corner, smiling broadly while looking in the distance at something I had forgotten. No matter what happened, those moments where the three of us had connected, had stayed dear to my heart. Now, it wasn't without pride that I was contemplating it hung against the white wall of one of the most fancy galleries of Madrid.

Ana was eagerly twitching beside me. It had been her idea to paire the exhibition’s opening with the traditional Christmas party. Every year the club organized a special event for employee, members and a well selected guest list. For this edition, the pairing had led them to choose a galerie of the center of the capital, with a vast reception room adjoining to it, where the party would take place later. It was meant to be quite a show. On her side, Ana had been very attentive to be seen as the thinking head of all of this. But for now, she, Mariam, Eneko and I were standing in a neat line facing the entrance to welcome the guests.

The firsts ones to arrive were a groupe of employees from the commercial department, quickly followed by some of the players. Everybody had put on their best outfit in a demonstration of good and not so good taste. Olga was in a rather odd dress-suite but Maelle wore a smart sparkling skirt and a fancy white shirt.

As for me, I had spent hours deciding what to wear for that prestigious occasion. I didn’t want to be too formal but not too relaxed either. Thus, I had sent dozen of very doubtful selfies in front of the mirror to Angela and Hayley, sicking their advices and validation.

“Nicky, we talked about this a hundred time, you’re not wearing a shirt!“, Angela had said on the speaker.

“I have nothing else! All the tops I have are shirts or T shirts!“

“Then go for a dress, the dark blue one, you look stunning in it!“

“But I never were dresses, it feels weird…“ I had moaned, searching the pile of clothes.

“You said you didn’t want to wear pants either, that it was too common! You said you wanted to stand out but in a good way… That was your precise words and we both know what you want deep down…“

I had rolled my eyes. “Well, I don’t! You do?“

“You want to be sexy as hell so you can impress everyone this evening“, she had answered.

My brain had instantly pictured the face of my ex-girfreind gagging at the sight of very attractive version of me. My lips had stretched into a smile and I had surrendered, “Ok, I’m trying the blue one again, but I’m not putting stilettos. What about boots?“

“Humm, with hills if you want your outfit to remain chic….“

I had dig out a paire of ankle high varnished black boots with medium hills I had had probably bought for some kind of party and worn two or three times in my life. I had put them on, shoved my hair to the side and sent a photo of my reflection to Angela.

“You’re stunning Nicky! it’s giving a "I’m good on my own boss girl and look at what you lost" vibe. Perfect.“

“Perfect“, I had echoed.

So here I was, wearing a silky dark blue dress and hills boots, casually chatting with people, a cup of champagne in a hand and a small bag in the other, giving a very worldly version of Nicky to the now crowded place. I didn’t know where to give head, everybody greeted me, congratulated me. I grasped hands of people I had no idea who they were, explained my works a dozen times and emptied several glasses far too quickly.

An hour or so had passed and I was in a long conversation about my vision of sport photography with a journalist named Franck when she came.

She hadn’t overdressed. She was wearing simple brown suit pants and a silver long sleeve top. I followed her from the corner of my eyes, watching her looking around, clearly searching for something or someone in the crowd.

She took a glass, her moves usure, and looked a moment at the photographies hung on the walls. She was getting closer when she turned her head. Our eyes finally met. Her lips parted slightly before she close them again and looked away. Misa had always been pretty bad at hiding her emotions.

A second later she had disappeared into the crowd and I excused myself to Franck, unable to talk or listen anymore. Knowing Misa was there had troubled me. I quickly exit the hall to the terrace to light up a cigarette, took a few puffs and breathed in relief the sweet poison filling my lungs. It was a pitiful compensation. I had not felt the satisfaction I had expected when she had seen me. I didn't know anymore what I wanted her to feel. Impressed? Angry? Sad? She had definitely seemed sad rather than impressed or angry.

As a matter of fact, so I was now, smoking on the terrace on my own. How many times I had dreamt of celebrating the opening of my first exhibition with her.

With her…

I pulled at my cigarette, forcing my mind to go blank again, my now well known strategy to retain some of my sanity, when I heard a soft voice close by.

Her voice.

“Lea please don’t...“

She was probably just around the corner, only a few feet away, still she could not see me I could not see her.

“Why not, I like you Misa. And you like me“, Lea’s assured voice replied.

“I’m sorry, I don’t like you like this…“

I was frozen, torn between hearing what I shouldn’t and knowing what was going to happened.

“Don’t you think it could change?“

“I…I don’t know Léa… I don’t think so.“

There was a silence during I dared to pull at my cigarette.

“It’s her, right? You’re still in love with her?“ The droping voice of Léa inquired.

My heart was drumming in my chest, my hurt and mangled soul hanging to her answer as I hold my breath in what seemed the longest seconds of my life.

“Of course I still love her“, Misa’s low and broken voice echoed in the cold night.

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

#misa rodriguez #woso community #woso #woso imagine #futfem #woso fanfics #woso x reader #fanfic #misa rodriguez fanart #misa rodriguez x reader #misa rodriguez fanfic #spanish woso #spanish goalkeeper #woso fluff #woso angst #misa rodriguez x oc #woso goalkeeper

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saltyyuuri · 6 days ago

Text

🪻In another life 🪻

Iso x fem! Reader

PART 9

PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3 - PART 4 - PART 5 - PART 6 - PART 7 - PART 8 - PART 9 - PART 10

Words: 3700

Warnings: mention of blood- mild violence and mental health. It's going to be angsty. This warning is simply going to be copy pasted to all chapter. +NSFW

🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻

Loud music was playing while some agents were busy chugging down some drinks- currently in the backyard of protocol headquarters. There was a barbecue set up outside for dinner today, a few picnic tables had gotten set up with some food on them, and of course there was a few other tables set up with drinks.

Because of course- there wouldn't be a random dinner barbecue without alcohol- quote from Phoenix mind you. The younger agents were getting a bit rowdy, most of them had already had a few drinks and they had way too much energy to spend, either dancing along to the music or just chatting vividly.

The older agents were a little more calm, sipping on a beer, either tending to the barbecue or trying to keep up with the younger ones. Overall the atmosphere was pretty nice, especially since there was also a few party games that got set up. Stuff like a horseshoe game, a darts game and a washer game.

And of course there was some troublemakers trying to set up an extra game- notably Jett, Neon and Phoenix, trying to get people to join in on a game of Truth or Dare. So this is how your evening was going-getting dragged along to that game because of course Clove wanted to play- and you were hanging out with Clove.

You don't know why they were starting to develop a tendency to just drag people into stuff- but at the same time you didn't mind it too much. You haven't played said game since high school, so you were wondering how it would take a twist now that it had alcohol involved. You were currently sipping on a cocktail, no idea what was in said cocktail but Breach mixed it up and it tasted good.

So here you were, sitting in a circle made with camping chairs alongside with Clove, Phoenix, Jett, Neon, Sage (it's surprised you that she let herself get dragged into this), Iso (this one surprised you a bit more but after seeing he was hanging out with Sage, it was self-explanatory) And Raze.

"Alright, alright! Just setting base rules, no skipping out- but you can ask for a second option. And nothing that can get us killed or severely injured - I highly doubt Sage wants to work on her day off." Phoenix said with a small laugh, speaking loud and clear to set the base rules. Everyone nodded and got prepared.

"I'll start things off-" phoenix said as he started looking around the circle, trying to see who would be the first victim. "Neon, truth or dare?" He picked onto the blue haired agent who was a little too hyper, as always. "DARE, duh." She said, already standing up and getting ready.

"Aight, I dare you to run a lap around Hq, but backwards. If you trip you take a shot." Phoenix said, cackling. Of course Neon immediately accepted, her confidence at an all-time high as she was absolutely certain she wouldn't trip. She was quickly gone, running in reverse, and we all patiently waited for her return. It wouldn't be hard to tell if she did trip-that was the funniest part. Because if she did, she would definitely have some grass stains on her pants.

And just a few minutes later- wouldn't you know it, her pants were completely stained, hell there's a twig in her hair. "Jeez, did you run in a tree?" Phoenix said as he was doubled down in laughter, seeing in what state she came back in. "I may have taken a tumble or two-" Neon said sheepishly, heading over to the nearby picnic table that had a bottle of vodka and some shot glasses. She immediately started taking shots-totaling up to four.

"Damn- you tripped four times??" Clove said, starting to cackle along as everyone watched Neon take shots. "Yeah-turns out it's a bit harder than expected to run in reverse-" Neon said, shaking her head a bit after taking a few shots, a grimace on her face by the fourth one.

"eugh... Well- truth or dare.... Clove!" Neon asked, turning towards Clove to make them the next victim. "Aye.... I'll go with truth." Clove said, chuckling. Neon took a moment to think of what could be a good one to ask, then perking up as soon as she had an idea.

"What's the best bit of gossip you know?" Neon asked, leaning in towards Clove as she looked hyper to discover some of the dramas I could have happened that she wasn't told about. You turn to look towards Clove, also interested to know what little bit they were going to give.

They seem to be taking a moment to decide themselves before finally choosing what to say. But what you didn't expect was for Clove to whisper it to Neon-you thought that they were going to say it out loud for all. You gave Clove a slightly confused and suspicious look, they simply grinned.

Neon on the other hand had a shocked expression on her face, her hand going up to her mouth to cover it. "Oh damn- interesting ~" she said mischievously, a grin forming. You had no idea what was told, but it definitely looked like Neon was going to use it to her advantage at some point.

A few more turns went by, everyone getting a go at either a dare or a truth- and the sun was starting to set. The game was still going strong, except this time there was a fire camp set in the middle of the circle to provide some extra lighting and warmth to keep it going.

There was some really interesting truths that had came out- notably how Phoenix discovered his powers-and the incident that followed from it- nothing bad, he just set his own shirt on fire. Or how Raze didn't even hesitate to answer when somebody asked her the truth question if her and Killjoy were actually dating- Raze had declared it loud and clear to the whole group they were, making everyone giggle.

As for dares, Sage was dared to freeze over someone's drink without them noticing- and she was a really good at doing it! She had managed to catch Brimstone off guard, freezing up his beer when he wasn't paying attention. Everyone had a good laugh at seeing the boss trying to take a sip out of a block of ice-

There was a few other funny ones, but those were definitely the highlights so far. So when the second round came on, everyone was a bit tipsy from the drinks and shots. It was Neon's turn again to ask someone truth or dare, and Neon was probably the one who was the most tipsy right now.

"Ummm... (Y/N)! Truth or dare~" Neon asked, a mischievous smile on her face. It was obvious she was up to something, but you are already a few drinks in and you just cackled along. "Dare!" You declared loudly, I'm taking yet another sip of your cocktail. You have no idea once again what you were drinking- Breach was just having a blast mixing stuff up and giving it out two agents.

"I Dare you to...." Neon started before she paused, raising a finger up to her chin as she thought. And suddenly she was pacing around, almost as if this was a life decision she was making. A few people started laughing, thinking I was really funny how hard she was thinking about this.

"shush-I need to focus!!" Neon yelled out to the agents that were laughing, only resulting in them laughing harder. She let out a frustrated groan, trying to sort out her thoughts despite her tipsy state.

"Okay! I got it-" she finally said as she walked back over to her initial spot, as close to the middle as possible. "(Y/n), I dare you to send a dirty text to your crush right now." Neon said, her mischievous grin getting wider at the second. You choked on air, not expecting that of all dares. "Fucking what now-" you said as you gasped for air, pretty much everyone bursting out laughing instantly.

"I would like a second option-" you said as your cheeks were starting to turn red, still trying to catch your breath after choking. Neon let out a desperate groan, she didn't want to come up with something else because she thought that first option was the best. So instead she decided to give you an even worse second option.

"Then I dare you to make out what your crush!" She said, a bit frustrated. You choked again, now your face was completely red. "Wh- that's barely a second option!" You yelled out while the group was back to laughing. "You get what you get." Neon said with a shrug, Crossing her arms over her chest as her mischievous air came back.

"How do you even know-" you started to say, you were going to ask how she knew you had a crush on someone- until you looked to your side where Clove was suspiciously quiet. It clicked in your mind-eyes widening before you swatted Clove's shoulder. "You ratted me out didn't you!" You said instantly, now realizing what Clove had said on their truth.

"Hey-for my defense-I didn't think she was going to use it against you!" Clove said, raising their hands defensively as they tried to plead their case. "I told you not to tell no one!" Clove looked a bit sheepish as you spoke. "...But that's literally the only thing Neon didn't know -" Clove responded.

You let out of frustrated sigh- rubbing your face with your hands. Your current choices were kiss Iso in front of everyone hoping that he's not going to flat out reject you- or send him a sext. Both cases just felt bad, your face is bright red at this point from embarrassment.

Except one of the two options at least would save you the public embarrassment. Or at least, it would if his phone beeper isn't on. You weighed your choices- and decided on the first option, which at least wouldn't be publicly embarrassing.

"Fine." You mumbled out, face redder than a beet. You took the cocktail that breach had made earlier, chugging it in one go. It was liquid courage but at least it would make you forget the crap you're about to do.

You pulled out your phone from your pocket, to which Neon did a slight victory dance. A few people were starting to look a bit curiously your way, now interested to see how things would go. You let out a shaky breath as you tapped on the contact, then took a moment to try to figure out what you would even send. It's not like you ever did this type of thing before so you didn't even know what would be considered 'good'.

You clumsily typed up a message and made sure to use your autocorrect so it wouldn't be filled with typos, an internally prayed that his notifications are turned off on his phone. Especially since he was sitting just across from you.

Clove peaked over your shoulder, moments before you press send, mumbling; "That's lame-", which made your head snap towards them. "Well fucking excuse me-it's not like I do this on a daily goddamn basis-" you semi yelled in embarrassment. Clove gave you a deadpan, then took your phone and rewrote your text. When you read it over you let out a scream. "FUCK NO-"

"it's better than what you wrote-" Clove said, grinning widely as they cross their arms in front of their chest. "I am most definitely not sending this-" you said, embarrassment taking over instantly as you erase the message. You rewrote a different message, this time hoping it was good enough without needing Clove to make it worse.

"Eh... It's better but it's tame-" Clove said, reaching over to add a few words. "Ah- much better!" Clove said with a huge grin after fixing your text a second time. You couldn't read it without feeling absolutely embarrassed as hell. You were about to start complaining about it again before Neon loudly declared "just send the goddamn text; we're waiting here!"

So you press send before you erase the message another time, once more praying in your head that his ringer is off. When you didn't hear anything audible come from anyone's phones you let it out of sigh of relief, glad to know that he turned off his notifications. "There, happy?" You mumbled out in pure embarrassment, getting up to go get the bottle of vodka and put some in your cup. You wanted to drink to forget-

And so the game continued as if nothing that happened, everyone ending up pretty drunk by the end of it. On the point where everyone was, it was time to just start heading back to the dorms before people started sleeping outside- which already seem to be the case with a few agents.

🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻

By the time you got back to your dorm, you ran yourself a cold shower and took care of drinking a lot of water, trying to pass some of the drunkenness. You also knew if you drank enough water now, you wouldn't feel too bad the next morning. The cold shower definitely helped bring yourself back to your senses a bit, but you were still pretty sluggish.

You threw yourself in bed, not even bothering to put pajamas on. You were laying on top of your sheets, completely bare in the darkness of your room. You finally picked back up your phone for the first time since that day earlier, plugging it in before turning it on. You had forgotten completely about the text until you turned your phone back on and saw it- immediate embarrassment coming right back .

You: "Can I have my way with you tonight? 😘"

You yourself butterflies in your stomach as you saw the message- sure it wasn't that bad, but it sure as hell was embarrassing. You considered just unsending it, it's not like Neon would know right? You quickly got to work, it's starting to prepare the unsend-

'Read'

You both felt your heart drop and pick up its Pace at once. You didn't know if you wanted to just hide and die of embarrassment right then and there- or rip off Neon's head. Maybe a bit of both. You have put down your phone for a moment, covering your face with a pillow from embarrassment.

It was too late to unsend the message, he had already seen it. You already knew it was going to be awkward as hell the next day - hell maybe he'll even go back to not talking to you- just when you finally had him opening up a bit-

There was a knock at the door. You sat up instantly- then realizing you were naked, if you immediately covered yourself with your blanket. You were too distracted and also tipsy to react right- your face was beat red from embarrassment, thoughts were rushing . "W-who?" You asked with a stutter, not even able to string together a sentence.

The door opened, and with the darkness you couldn't see who it was. You only know if someone came in your room. "Who is it?" You asked a bit more firmly, holding your blanket closer to you, making sure it covered you fully. Someone walked up to your bed, stopping at your bedside.

"Seriously who is it- this isn't funny-" you asked again nervously, holding the blanket a bit tighter against yourself. "Were you serious with your text?"

You instantly froze, not even sure what to answer. Your face heated up instantly, feeling a flutter in your stomach all while feeling nervous. You felt the bed dip a bit on one side, and then there was a hand caging you in, inches away from your head. He was practically on top of you at this point, and you could still smell the alcohol on his breath.

"(Y/n), were you serious or not?" He asked you again, he voice much lower this time, and he had leaned in closer. Your head was a bit of a mess at the moment- and if it weren't for the alcohol you probably would have panicked a bit. "Y-yeah- ... Um-" your answer came out of it messy and stuttered, not even sure if it was the right answer.

He chuckled, then leaned in fully-you are completely trapped under him. He had shifted, holding himself up with that arm he had beside your head, a knee each side of your body. His free hand cup your cheek before he leaned down, starting a messy kiss between the two of you.

Your mind just went blank- and even if you were trying to sober up earlier, it was almost as of the alcohol hit you for a second time- your hands finding their way to his back and in his hair- pulling him closer. The hand on his cheek trailed down- touching your shoulder lightly before pausing. "Are you naked?" He asked you, his voice low and his lips brushing against yours as he spoke.

"I.. just got out the shower and.... I don't think I got dressed-" you mumbled out, your mind was a complete mess at this point. He chuckled at once more, his freehand deciding to pull off the blanket from you. In the dark he couldn't see you, but he didn't mind too much- because he was going to enjoy touching you.

He leaned back down to continue the messy kiss, his tongue sliding in your mouth once more, small moans escaping you both. His hands went everywhere, cupping your breasts, caressing your stomach, your thighs and hind. You felt hot, and the more he went on, the more impatient you got.

You had started tugging at his hoodie, making him pause his touches. He moved back for a moment so he could take it off, tossing it aside somewhere in the room. You could then hear him fumble with his belt buckle-the weight on the bed shifting a few times.

You felt his now bare skin brush against yours, where he settled between your legs. His hands went back to your thighs, making their way up. One of his hand made contact with your core, fingers rubbing your already wettened sweet spot in a gentle circular motion, leaning back in to kiss you while he touched you.

You let out soft muffled moans, clinging a bit more desperately to Iso while he touched you, increasing the speed of his movements little by little. He broke the kiss, listening to the moan you let out now that he wasn't kissing you, enjoying every noise you made under him.

"You enjoying this?" He purred out into your ear, deciding to slide his fingers inside you as he asked, wanting to hear more of the lewd noises you were making. You gasped, barely responding to what he asked as he continues to pleasure you, curling his fingers upwards inside you.

He leaned back, continuing his movements inside you, fingers still pressing repeatedly onto your sweet spot. He used his free hand to gently press down your lower abdomen, his thumb caressing your clit as he did that. The additional stimulation made you whimper, back arching up a bit. You let out a shaky moan, feeling on edge.

It didn't take long for your orgasm to wash over, hands grasping onto the bedsheets roughly, gasping for air as your legs shook slightly, shutting on his arms. He slowed down his ministrations, completely stopping once you seemed to calm down a bit from your high. He gently pushed your legs apart, his hands resting in the crooks of your knees for a short moment, as if considering how he wanted to take you.

After a short moment, he settled on pushing back your legs, making himself comfortable between them once more. He positioned himself, leaning back down to kiss your neck a few times before. The shift in position forced your legs back more, letting out soft whimpers as his lips traced your neck.

He bit you in the crook of your neck, thrusting himself inside at the same time. You let out a surprised gasp, your arms going around his shoulders, hands on his back. "You feel good.." He mumbled out in the crook of your neck, biting once more as he started to thrust hard into you.

You were becoming a bit of a mess under him, hands grasping onto him as he fucked you roughly , his teeth repeatedly sinking into your neck and shoulders. Moans and whimpers seemed to be the only noises you were able to make as you were gradually scratching up his back.

One of his hands let go of your leg to go to your neck, grasping it and tightening around it. He pulled back his head from your shoulder, re-angling himself to continue with the rough pace. You could feel the lack of air taking over, adding to your tipsy state, feeling almost euphoric.

He continued to tighten the grip on your neck, listening as you made less and less noise- only releasing your when you made small gasps. He could feel you tighten around him from it, a low moan escaping him . "You loved that, hm~?" He said lowly, his hand finding your neck once more.

Leaving you no time to answer, he did it again, tightening his grip around your neck once more, this time using his second hand to caress your clit while he continued to fuck you, not slowing his pace yet. And just like earlier, he only released your neck when you were gasping for air.

The second time around sent a wave of pleasure through you, the lack of air made it feel like everything was coming in waves, hitting harder at a time. Your legs shook slightly once more, once more feeling the edge of your orgasm approach.

You came a second time, moans a bit hoarse as your nails dug into his back once more leaving long scratches. He didn't last long after you finished for a second time, letting out low moans as his pace slowed, coming to a stop after a few short moments.

He crashed, falling on the double bed beside you, panting . You were in a daze, overstimulated from both orgasms and the remains or your tipsiness. Iso grabbed the blanket, covering you both , then becoming the big spoon immediately - an arm wrapped around you, pulling you into him as he fell asleep. You succumbed to fatigue pretty fast too, passing out within moments.

#valorant #valorant fanfiction #valorant x reader #fem reader #iso #iso valorant #valorant iso #iso x reader

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waterless-witch · 1 year ago

Text

Of Knights and Demons

Chapter 8

TW: Dark themes, violence, forced marriage and swearing. Minors DNI!

This is my first fic so please be kind! I’ve also got it posted on A03 and Wattpad under the same name in case anybody would like to read it there.

Notes: Sorry it took so long! I rewrote it like 5 times and I still don’t like it all that much but it’s been a month and I felt bad not updating. I might come back and rewrite this chapter eventually we’ll see.

Previous Chapter

With baited breath you wait to see if he’ll continue. There’s a chance he won't, he often leaves you with more questions than answers and it wouldn’t be all that unlikely for him to do so again. Grimmjow had always been hesitant to tell anything about himself or even the land he came from and this seemed so much more important than any of that. It was personal and while you wanted to know what he meant or who his family was you wouldn’t push the matter if he didn’t want to tell you, not that pushing would get you anywhere but still you understood why he might not want to share such things, you certainly didn’t talk to many people about your own mother.

He’s still looking towards the ceiling when he speaks again, “My mother was weak like you. She needed protection, she was pretty like you too.” He scoffed with a small laugh before continuing, “Worked out for her about as well as it’s worked out for you.” He says letting his eyes flick to you for just a moment.

You keep your mouth shut, not even wanting to breathe too loud out of fear that he’ll stop talking, you're a bit unsure of why you want him to continue but you desperately need to hear what he’s going to say. “My father stole her from her family, she hated him, tried to kill him and then herself over and over again but my father wouldn’t let her go, he wanted sons. He was a warlord, he needed sons.” He pulls his eyes back up to the ceiling before continuing. “It’s harder for our kind to reproduce, it's almost rare to have a child, but eventually it happened.”

Grimmjow’s voice almost sounds sad, or at least as sad as you’ve ever heard him. “She wasn’t like you. She didn’t care about other people, not even her own children. She wanted nothing to do with me, leaving me to my father to train and… Mold how he saw fit.” He didn’t go into much detail about his father but what he had said left you feeling uneasy, it was enough of an implication to make you shiver. You felt awful for him but he just kept talking.

“When I was eight she had my sister, she named her Seraphina. I hoped that my mother would love her, she wasn’t a son, my father would have little interest in her and she wouldn’t grow into the same kind of monster that hurt her. She should have loved her, but she didn’t.” You couldn’t help but think of your own mother, she had died when you were young but she had adored you. You were always close and you couldn’t imagine a mother hating her children, you can’t help but wonder if you could have hated your children if you’d had them with Aizen. You hoped that you wouldn’t have but how would you know.

“Our people congratulated my mother when she was born, they celebrated, drank and danced like it was something to be happy about. Like we weren’t living proof of her imprisonment.” You couldn’t help but think of your own wedding, how awful you felt to see people celebrating while you were in agony. Grimmjow was one of few who hadn’t seemed happy that day and while at the time you hadn’t understood it you do now. You can’t even begin to imagine the kind of memories that day had brought up.

“My father thought he had broken my mother down, thought she was done with all her attempts to run or end her own life, so he took me and a few men on a hunt. We were only gone a few days. Our camp was attacked while we were gone.” He pauses for a long moment and you think he might be done talking but after a few moments he starts again.

“She left her there. Alone.” He bites out, “A little girl less than three years old, she couldn’t get out of our tent when it caught fire.” Your eyes widen and you breathe in a shaky breath. “She ran, she didn’t even try to find Sera, just left. My father found her a few days later, dead from the elements. He didn’t care too much, he found another pretty girl and started all over like none of it happened.”

Instantly you feel remorse, you had no way of knowing about any of this when you threaten to leave or throw yourself from the roof but you can’t help but feel bad, you know your words must have brought back terrible memories. He’s looking at you again, face completely unreadable.

It takes you a moment to recognize he’s finished talking, you swallow thickly, “I’m sorry Grimmjow,” You all but whisper, “For all of it, what I said, what you went through, it shouldn’t have happened.”

His eyebrows twitch a bit and for a second you think he might be angry but he huffs a small laugh, “Lots of things shouldn’t happen the way they do princess.” He says, “I hated you for a long time when I’d first been told about you.” Grimmjow confesses keeping your gaze.

Your eyebrows knit but you don’t say anything, you’re not quite sure what to say or if you should say anything at all. “All I could think about was my mother and sister, even when we’d found you it's all I saw. I thought you deserved what was coming for you, why should you get to exist, all delicate, with sweet words and dressed all pretty while my sister burned? I was sure you were exactly like my mother. But you’re nothing like her and you made that very clear from the start. You're kind, you care for people. Even when you shouldn’t.” You didn’t understand what he meant by any of that and in turn gave him a questioning look.

“You worried for that knight. Hell, you tried to stop Aizen from hurting him.” He says with an exasperated laugh. “You had no way to stop him and nothing to offer him that he wasn’t going to take from you anyways, but still you tried.”

He lays back down and closes his eyes but continues speaking, “You all but cried for the people your husband massacred, you’re so weak but you did everything in your power to keep that one man safe, you almost fucking started weeping when you thought he’d been killed anyways, you were glad he escaped, even though he left you behind. You were upset when Aizen killed that man for you, he tried to fucking rape you and still you didn’t wish death on him. Fuck princess, I put a knife in your hand and told you exactly how to kill your husband but you wouldn’t, you were willing to die trying to escape rather than taking a life.” He’s strangely calm, you’d find comfort in it if you weren’t talking about what you were.

“I felt for you during your wedding night. My comrades started placing bets on how long you’d live or if you’d kill yourself. They made me fucking sick. You looked horrified when you realized how many of your people betrayed you, how many stood by him.” He bites out, “One of those cowards should have stepped up and done something…” he pauses for another minute. “That fucking knight shouldn’t have left you behind.” He sneers. “It shouldn’t have happened to you. Your people should have at least tried to help you.” Grimmjow tsks letting his eyes fall back open.

He stares at the ceiling for a long time before he speaks again, so long that you think you're done talking. “I think you're the only person I’ve ever met who’s not afraid of me or who doesn’t want to use me as a weapon.” He confesses in another whisper, like he had before you left the manor.

You think about his words for a long time before you answer. You don’t think any of what you’d done was particularly kind, in fact you remember saying mean things to him quite a few times in your first few days. You were certainly scared of him at first, you’re not really sure when it had begun to fade, perhaps when he’d tried to bring you food the day after your wedding, or maybe when he brought you the tea. You felt bad, you were using him now weren’t you? “I was afraid of you, at first.” You clarify to him quietly. The sun had begun to set and the last of the sunlight filters through the window between the two of you. While you know you should let him sleep, you can’t help but want to keep talking with him.

He chuckles, “I bet you were.” He looks over to you again. “You should have been, hell you should still be afraid of me.” He says with a shake of his head.

You swallow thickly as guilt about the whole predicament continues to bite at you. “Am I not using you now? How is it any different?” You ask meekly with a hint of sadness. You weren’t as kind as he thought. He didn’t see it now but he would eventually and he’d hate you for it.

Grimmjow just chuckles a bit, “It’s different.” He tells you, reminding you of the evening in the library. You’d said the same thing when he had asked if you were scared of him. “Get some sleep princess, we have another early start.” He tells you, ending the conversation and you nod.

You crawl under the covers and lay there for a while, mind wandering over everything that had happened and everything Grimmjow had told you. You know that he had kept most of the brutal details of his story to himself but it still upset you. He was still an enigma to you but some of it made more sense, why he’d gone through the trouble of the tea or offered the chance to free yourself at least made sense. You thought about his sister and how unfair and cruel it all was. You still wondered how he came to work for Aizen and where his father was or if he was even still alive but you weren’t about to ask, he told you far more than you’d expected and you didn’t want to push him and accidentally upset him further.

You don’t know how long you lay there awake but it takes forever for you to fall asleep, the bed is comfortable, especially when compared to the cold ground of the previous night. When sleep does find you it's a dreamless night, which is fine with you in comparison to what you’d been dreaming of, you didn’t need that confusion on top of what you were already feeling.

~~~

Sunlight has just started to peak into the widow when you wake up. You open your eyes groggily and blink a few times, you look around and immediately take notice that Grimmjow is not in bed. You jerk yourself up quickly, the blanket is tossed haphazardly near the foot of the bed indicating that he had been there but you're unsure of how long ago. Your eyes dart to the small bathroom door which is still wide open and empty.

A bit of panic sets in, you pull yourself out of bed and look out the window, there’s no movement outside but you can’t see the horse from the window. You make your way to the door, ready to peak out and check to see if for some reason he’d left. Maybe he changed his mind, maybe you’d upset him and he’d just left, you didn’t know and your mind spun with possibilities.

Just as you’re about to reach the door it opens, you stop, taking a step back to avoid getting hit with the door and watch as Grimmjow enters back into the room as cold air blows in behind him. He looks down at you and raises a single brow, “Something the matter?” He asks as he slips in the room and closes the door, stopping the cold flow of air.

You feel a bit dumb at the realization that he hadn’t left, he hadn’t given you any reason to distrust him. A small blush rises on your cheeks, “I-uh, I thought you…” You start to say.

“Ditched ya?” He asks, finishing your sentence. You nod your head lightly, still feeling foolish. Grimmjow just shakes his head with a light smirk, “Nah,” he starts lazily, handing you a cloak that you hadn’t bothered to notice, he held a second one for himself and you couldn’t help but feel bad that he’d again gone out of his way for you yet again. You still had his jacket so you looked up at him in question. “It’ll get a lot colder the closer we get to that mountain and I can’t give you all my clothes.” He says with a smirk making you flush a bit further. It was strangely nice to see him falling back into his normal behaviors, even if said behaviors were tormenting you.

You nod in understanding, “Thank you, again.” You tell him, Grimmjow just rolls his eyes. You can’t help but wonder if he doesn’t like you thanking him because no one ever has before. The thought depresses you a bit. You wonder what he would have been like if he’d been born in your land, or anywhere else. You think he would have been a knight, he seems to despise them but you still believe it all the same.

Grimmjow throws his own cloak on the bed then flops down himself. “We leave in an hour, wash up or rest or read or whatever.” He says with a wave of his hand. He didn’t seem as talkative as the previous night but that’s alright with you, there’s a strange arua between the two of you right now, it's not stressed or angry like normal, just calmness. You gently fold the cloak and remove his jacket, setting both on the bed delicately, out of the corner of your eye you can see Grimmjow watching you with interest but he doesn’t move or say anything. You don’t say anything either as you make your way to the small bathroom, there’s no tub but there is a spigot above a drain on the broken tiled floor.

There’s a small dented metal bucket in the corner and you grab it, you rinse it out before filling it with water from the tap. The water runs cold but you don’t care as you strip from your clothes. You gently rest them on the sink, careful not to get them wet and you wet a washcloth and bathe to the best of your ability. The cold water bites at your skin but you hold out through your quick wash.

When you re-emerge you take note that Grimmjow has everything packed by the door, he cracks open an eye and watches you move to put his jacket back on. You shiver lightly at the cold which makes him chuckle, “Cold?” He asks as he sits up fully. You hum your acknowledgement and he snorts, “You’ll have a rough next few hours then, I need to hunt as we go which means going slow. ” He tells you in a mock informational tone.

You again hum as you unfold the cloak, “I’ll survive.” You answer back as you tie the strings thightly. Grimmjow gives a small barking laugh and pulls his own cloak on before making his way to the door. He grabs the supplies then holds the door for you. The cloak helps a lot with the cold and you're thankful as he readies the horse then helps you up.

The two of you eat a quick breakfast of dried meat while riding. You don’t speak much, Grimmjow has the bow at the ready, keeping an eye out for any game that might come across your path. You can’t tell if it's your imagination or not but it almost seems like he’s sitting a bit closer and keeping his arms closer to your body. You might find it strange but he feels incredibly warm compared to the cold winter air around you, you’re also hyper aware of you still wet and cold hair on your neck which causes you to shiver lightly. Grimmjow chuckles a bit but he does noticeably move closer. Midway through the day he brings the horse to a quiet stop and draws an arrow from behind him, a few paces away a rabbit sniffs at some dried and dead grass. Grimmjow’s completely silent as he nocks an arrow, you're not even sure if he’s breathing, you’re certainly not. You hold your breath and watch as he aims, then in a blink he's released the arrow, it embeds itself through the rabbits neck, pinning the animal to the ground.

You can’t stop the small gasp that you release as you watch the small animal die. Grimmjow dismounts to retrieve the rabbit, pulling the arrow from its neck and flicking a small amount of blood to the ground beneath him as he walks back. “You’re so delicate.” He tells you as he ties the rabbit’s carcasses to the bags.

His gaze flicks up to you, waiting on an answer that you don’t really have, “I’ve just never seen someone hunt before.” You say a bit embarrassed, making him chuckle.

“And you thought you could make it all on your own.” He mocks as he climbs back up behind you. You roll your eyes and ignore him which only seems to entertain him more.

A few more hours pass before you see another rabbit, this time when Grimmjow slows the horse he reaches for your hand. You jerk a bit but he doesn’t let go, instead he puts the bow in your hand while keeping his hand firmly placed on yours. His other hand grabs for an arrow and again he places it in your hand before placing his hand above yours. You try again to pull your hands away from him but he simply squeezes both your hands to make you stop, not in a painful manner, just enough to deter you.

With his hands over your own he nocks the arrow, you desperately want him to let go of your hands, you have no interest in hunting and you really don’t want to kill this poor rabbit. He pulls back the bow string as you release a shaky breath, even with his help you can feel the strain of the bowstring against your arms. You can’t see his face but you can all but feel his eyes flick to you before returning to the rabbit. The hand above the arrow tightens around your own a bit, his touch is warm against your cold hand but it's not much of a comfort as he pulls your hand from the arrow. You squeeze your eyes shut to stop yourself from watching the poor animal die, you can hear the arrow fly into the animal and the subsequent squeak it lets out. “You should learn to use the bow, might come in handy.” He says breaking the silence and letting the bow slip from your hand gently.

Grimmjow slips from the horse and you watch him as he again retrieves the rabbit and ties it with the one from earlier. You’re unsure of what to say so you simply say nothing. “I could teach you.” He offers and you consider for a second before he continues. “Might help you relax a bit, knowing you could defend yourself, at least long enough for me to help you if we’re separated for a moment.” Grimmjow explains calmly while holding eye contact with you. He has a point, even if you don’t like the idea of using the weapon you know ultimately that he’s right. You can’t think of a good reason to deny him so you nod your head.

Grimmjow ties the horse to a tree before he helps you down. You thank him weakly, still unsure of learning archery with him, you don’t like the idea of having to kill more animals. “Look, more than likely you’ll never use it, I’ll just show you the basics. No more hunting, just target practice, I promise.” He tells you a bit awkwardly though it does make you feel a bit better.

After moving a small distance from the horse Grimmjow finds a spot he deems suitable. You take the bow from him as he goes up to one of the larger trees ahead of you. You watch, mesmerized, as his hand darkens and forms into those animalistic claws. They somehow seem darker than the last time you’d seen them, they looked darker than the night sky, like light couldn’t touch them even if you held a flame to his skin. Quickly, he craved an X into the bark and turned back towards you. The claws were gone before he even finished turning and you were again amazed with how stunning the transformation was, how quickly he could bare them amazed you.

Your eyes watch the hand that had bore claws just moments ago as he makes his way back to where you stood. “Scared?” Grimmjow asks with a small smirk. You briefly consider telling him how impressed you are but decide against it, not wanting to fan his ego or embarrass yourself.

It takes a second for you to pull your eyes away but you do and look up at him, you're not scared, not in the slightest so you just shake your head, “No.” you tell him while still gazing up at him, he snorts a small laugh and pulls an arrow from the quiver at his back.

He steps behind you, his hands fall to your hips and he lightly kicks your feet apart making you flush, his hands on you again feel warm and you almost want to keep him there. The thought brings heat to your face and you can’t help but wonder why you’d think something like that. “Keep your feet shoulder length apart.” He tells you drawing you out of your own head as he steadies you then places the arrow in your hand. You follow his instructions then look up at him, his gaze flicks down to your own eyes quickly before looking back towards the tree, “Always keep your eyes where you're aiming.” He says pulling his hands from you completely, you miss the warmth but would never dare voice it or let him know.

You mumble out an apology as you look back towards the X that he’d marked into the tree. He reaches for your hand and nocks the arrow, his hand is warm and again you want him to stay close, “Three fingers to pull back, like this.” He tells you as he moves his fingers over yours. He has you hold the arrow between your pointer finger and middle finger with your index finger below it.

Grimmjow’s other hand falls to your hand on the bow and pulls it up so that you’re ready to draw the bowstring back. “When you pull, keep your back straight and pull in as straight of a line as possible, it keeps your aim straight.” He explains before he helps you pull the bowstring back. His chest is almost all the way pressed to your own and you can’t help but fluster a bit further, you’d blame it on the cold if he asked but luckily he doesn’t. He pulls your hand from the drawn bow string until it sails into the middle of the X on the tree.

You’re impressed with his aim, especially considering that he was helping you and not aiming himself, you look up to him but he’s already looking at you. For half moment you two just stare at each other, his hands still over your own, but after a second he pulls away. “Your turn.” He tells you with a hard pat to your shoulder that throws you a bit off balance.

You straighten back up while taking another arrow from him, you follow all the directions he’d given you but your arrow lands nowhere near the X. Grimmjow made you continue firing arrows until after an hour so, one arrow eventually embeds itself close enough to the X that Grimmjow deems it good enough. The two of you make your way back to the horse in order to make camp for the night. Grimmjow gathers nearby wood and sticks to build up a fire that you can’t wait to be in front of.

The sun had begun to set, letting a much colder chill take over the forest the two of you resided in. Grimmjow lights the small fire before he makes his way over to the horse and you watch him untie the rabbits then go through one of the bags. “Nabbed this for you.” He says with disinterest as he drops something onto your lap. It’s a book, upon closer inspection it's the book from the inn that you’d been reading the previous day.

You blink up at him for a second, “You stole this?” You ask with an unbelieving laugh while giving him a small smile that he doesn’t return, instead he just scowls at you.

“Not like they were using it, plus it keeps you outta my hair. I’ll never understand why you like reading so much.” He scoffs out at you. You can’t help but think he’s putting on a front, he seems to do so often when he’s being kind to you, always taking a backhanded approach. His blue eyes flick up to yours for a second before he sits down and begins skinning the rabbit. You find yourself thinking back to the first day you’d spent in the library with him, you thought about how you’d considered offering to teach him to read but decided against it. You’d reasoned that you weren’t friends and that’s why you couldn’t help him and while you still technically weren’t quite friends you still found yourself wondering if you should offer now, you had a long way ahead of you and it would pass the time.

“I could teach you,” You begin trying to say, he stops what he’s doing and his eyes flick up to yours again. You can’t help but feel a bit embarrassed and nervous as you continue but at least you can blame the flushing of your skin on the cold. “If you wanted to, that is.” You elaborate not wanting to seem like you were pressuring him into it.

Grimmjow doesn’t say anything for a moment, he just stares at you, his eyes flick back and forth over you, he’s clearly thinking. He settles back, pulling his knife away from the rabbit to fully focus on you. “And why exactly would you do that?” He asks with narrowed and untrusting eyes.

“It might come in handy.” You tease back in a light and cheery tone, recalling what he’d said to you about learning how to use the bow. “Besides, we don’t have much else to do as we travel and I’m sure it will help you wherever you decide to go once this is all over.” You explain trying to sound as nice as possible in order to try to get him to agree.

He considers your words for a moment, you think he might deny your offer for a moment but he doesn’t, “Fine.” He bites out with a small amount of irritation, you can't help but smile at him, you’re not sure that he’d enjoy reading the way that you do but it was a good feeling to be able to do something for him for once instead of the other way around.

Your mind starts to wander as Grimmjow continues to prepare the rabbits. Where will he go after all this? Surely he can’t go back to Aizen, he doesn’t seem fond of the land he grew up in either. You guess he could go anywhere, one of the surrounding kingdoms perhaps. Aizen had also promised to invade them as well though and you were positive he had to know that. “Where will you go after all of this?” You ask, tired of trying to guess.

Grimmjow shrugs, he doesn’t look up at you immediately, too busy with skewering the first of the rabbits and then setting it to cook. “Away from this mess.” He tells you while finally letting his eyes meet yours, “I don’t plan on sticking around when things go bad, I’m not one of your little knights.” He tells you, with a glare.

“Trust me I know you're not a knight.” You start to tease at him and he scowls at you. Normally it's him who’s picking on you and it's nice for a change to be the one to tease him.

His brow is still furrowed as he begins skinning the second rabbit, “And what exactly does that mean?” He bites out.

“Well-“ You start, drawing out the word, “A knight would be nicer to me.” You tell him, making him scoff.

“I’m plenty nice to you.” He argues back, making you laugh, a real laugh not a cut off one or a sarcastic one. His eyes flick up to you and he watches you for a second with almost a bewildered expression.

You don’t start talking again until he looks away from you and back to his task at hand, “You can be nice to me.” You agree with him, “But a knight wouldn’t manhandle me the way you do or talk to me the way you, or just do anything the way you do.”

Grimmjow scoffs, “Yeah?” He starts, “And all those knights that speak to you so kindly and who wouldn’t dream of upsetting you, they left you behind. They didn’t stick around to fight for you so maybe they’re not as great as you think.” He doesn’t look up to you as he works.

His words hurt your feelings for a moment but you quickly get over it, getting away with you would have been an impossible task for them and it’s not fair of you to ask that of anyone. “They couldn’t have gotten me out.” You voice bluntly as he finishes the second rabbit and begins to cook it.

Grimmjow settles back and looks at you again, “They should have tried.” He bites out, you don’t understand why he thinks that. You shake your head at him and he just rolls his eyes. The two of you spend the rest of the night in relative quiet, Grimmjow gives you some of the meat from the rabbits and the two of you eat while he saves the second for the next day.

You offer to stay awake while he sleeps and after a minute of arguing he reluctantly agrees on the promise that you’ll stay right beside him and wake him the instant you hear anything, even if you think it's nothing. You think he’s being dramatic but you agree nonetheless and eventually he falls asleep. You spend a long while just staring out into the forest, nothing moves besides the occasional light breeze along the treetops that you can’t even fully see with how dark the night gets. Eventually your eyes fell on Grimmjow, you’d never seen him so calm looking, all the hard lines on his face had fallen away with sleep and his signature scowl was completely missing. You can’t help but think that he looked almost like a painting. His features looked soft in comparison to the bone mask and again you find yourself wanting to reach out and touch it, you don’t out of fear of waking him but it’s still a prevalent thought in your mind.

You spend a long time just looking at him and thinking. He’s still a mystery to you but he’s becoming more and more of a comfort. Which is a problem in and of itself, you know that he’ll leave once this is all over and while you might have been able to convince yourself that you wouldn’t miss him before you doubt you could now. The world seemed so cruel for him and you wanted nothing more than for him to have a home of his own, even if it wasn’t anywhere near you. It just didn’t seem fair, all that he’d been through. You wonder what kind of relationship you’d have with him if you’d met him under different circumstances. Would the two of you have been friends? You doubt it, you don’t really think he would have given you the time of day if he hadn’t been forced to initially.

Your mind wanders a bit more and you find yourself thinking about the last time he’d left. Grimmjow had said that he would have slept with you under different circumstances and you wonder what those would have been and if he’d actually meant it. Would he have tried if Aizen hadn’t married you? Was he actually serious? Did you even want him to try? You try to stop thinking like that but it proves to be a lot easier said than done. You have to look away from him before you can even try to keep those thoughts at bay.

You’re looking up at the cold night sky looking at the stars when you hear multiple twigs snap. Faster than you can blink Grimmjow is awake and pulling you back so that your back comes in contact with his chest with his arm sprawled across you keeping you close and his other hand darts to the hilt of the sword he had placed next to him while he slept. You turn as best you can to look up at him in bewilderment. He’d woken up so fast and honestly his reaction startled you far more than the small noise had. Grimmjow’s eyes are locked on the direction the noise had come from, from the faint light of the fire you could see his eyes darting around looking for what had caused the noise. You definitely can’t see anything and you wonder if he had better eyesight than you did. It certainly seemed like that as he surveyed the area.

The two of you stay that way for several minutes before he slowly pulls his arm away from you and looks down at you while moving away from you. “Go to sleep princess.” He demands simply. You start to argue with him that there’s no way that he’s gotten enough sleep but he won't hear of it. Eventually you give in and listen and lay down to sleep, it takes you a while but you eventually fall asleep as the cold night air settles over you.

#bleach fic #bleach x reader #cross posted on ao3 #grimmjow x reader #multi chap fic #aizen x reader #aizen x y/n #grimmjow x y/n #long fic

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litrumi · 6 months ago

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(ADLN - Understand Me AU) Ability Compendium (??? Powers: Overview)

A brief overview of Catnap's and Dogday's special abilities in "A Drop of Light in the Night" (Catnap X Dogday) [ADLN] - Otherwise known as the "Understand Me AU". It's my currently in-progress fanfic on Wattpad.

PLEASE refer to this Overview/Synopsis post if you have no idea what this even is, but are curious nonetheless. Don't start looking here until you've caught up.

So !!! SPOILERS AHEAD !!! - You've been warned.

Figured I'd make a compiled list with explanations of how these abilities work. All "???" stuff will be replaced/updated when I reach those points in the publications of the chapters. So refer BACK to this whenever the story progresses with such topics, and feel free to ask questions if you wanna know something more specific! But I'm gonna try my best not to spoil much either if it hasn't been revealed.

*All underlined / hyperlinks on the abilities themselves are just a reference to the type of music/soundtrack I "associate" with the power when I'm writing about it in the story.

**This part is just for me to reference every once in a while.

Draft Made: (6/3/24 - 5:03 PM) First Posting: (6/11/24 - 8:24 PM) Last Updated: (6/11/24 - 8:24 PM) **

Right, so here we go!

(s.) Catnap's abilities:

Red Smoke: Something that's been with him for as long as he can remember. This smoke can induce a long, restful sleep. However, it comes at the cost of "having nightmares" and has the "potential to cause hallucinations." Yet, it may even have something to do with a certain "connection" he's well aware of. (Something he's able to "put two and two together" on, if you've ever heard that idiom before). Either way, Catnap actively hates this ability, preferring not to use it if he can help it.

???:

(s.) Dogday's abilities:

Thought Process: When Dogday touches his forehead to someone else's forehead, his sun-shaped pendant gives off a gentle glow. With great focus, he can listen in on someone's private thoughts. Anything the person thinks is something Dogday can hear, like if they were speaking it in their voice. Dogday's thoughts are not transmitted to the other person unless he "willingly transfers a thought over," letting him have great control of the internal conversation.

What Dogday realized is that people typically say stuff after they've figured out how they want to say it, allowing them to be well-guarded and sly/secretive. But, because people's minds are usually a safe haven for private thoughts, they have no issue (or much less of a problem) with thinking what they really believe. Basically, a person's mind is unfiltered communication! It's a lot harder for people to hide what they really think. (But not impossible...)

However, one catch to this incredibly useful tactic is that as long as a person so much as "thinks" about wanting Dogday to stop reading their mind (no matter how they phrase it, as long as it means it with the intention), then Dogday gets a small, static-like shock to the brain that cuts off the connection, disconnects their foreheads, and does not allow Dogday to listen in on their thoughts for a sizeable amount of time. (It doesn't hurt much, but it's like any ol' feeling of static electricity). *"?" Addendum:

???:

...Awakening... Transcendence...

#catnap #dogday #catnap x dogday #dogday x catnap #daynap #sleepyday #smiling critters #smiling critters au #adln #understand me au

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lightandheatao3 · 6 months ago

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The Bunker - Criminal Minds

Chapter 10: The Truth

Summary: Spencer Reid wakes up in a locked bunker to find half the current BAU and two of its departed members unconscious on the floor. The old team is back together but the reunion is not what any of them would have wished for. An Unsub from their past has decided it's time they all stop keeping secrets, even if it means exposing them by force.

Hotch and Derek have been pulled back into a world they tried to escape. Emily, Rossi, and JJ are doing their best to keep it together. Spencer is falling apart.

AKA a found family is reunited and forced to go through the most nightmarish version of family therapy imaginable.

Set months after the end of Criminal Minds: Evolution. Evolution referenced, but not necessary to understand the story.

Chapter Summary: The gang play a game.

Read chapter 10 on AO3 or under the cut. All comments and reblogs are extremely appreciated <3 I would love to know what you like about the story :)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9

Spencer had been half convinced that the brown paper bag was going to burst open with a billowing cloud of fine white powder containing spores of deadly anthrax. He couldn’t get the image out of his head.

There had been too many times in his life where he was fairly certain he was about to die, and the anthrax exposure had honestly not even been the most harrowing, all things considered. He hadn't been restrained, or beaten, or drugged, or alone.

But something about the insidiousness of turning his own body against him was sticky. It adhered to his nervous system in a different way to acts of violence.

Hours after the bag had revealed its contents as six bottles of Ensure, he was still flinching at specks of dust.

The vital nutrients from the ensure- including the protein that had been desperately lacking in their all fruit diet even prior to the outright starvation- were working their magic. He had some semblance of energy again.

He had hoped that the return of their food supply would restore his capacity to feel, but no such luck. The best he could summon up was vague irritation.

It was getting harder and harder to tell when he was dreaming or awake.

The Unsub had left them to starve just long enough that they were all convinced that she was going to let them die like that. He wasn't so sure that this was better.

They all speculated on the likelihood of the next delivery reverting back to fruit. The Ensure was certainly the better option for keeping them from dying of malnutrition, but a liquid diet had its own concerns. The lack of door on the en-suit toilet continued to be a crushing blow.

“I feel like we should be doing something,” said Emily. “Like planning our next move.”

“Agreed,” said Derek, who had been tapping his foot non-stop for one hour, three minutes, and 28 seconds. Spencer had been counting the seconds in his mind because... well, it was something to do. “We need to force her into making another move.”

“We’re still recovering from the last move we forced her to make,” said Hotch. “I agree we need to take action, but right now we’re all too weak to take the physical strain of what happened last time.”

Emily looked like she was about to argue, but after a second, she just said, “Maybe. Let’s see if these deliveries keep coming and reassess when we know for sure that our food supply is consistent.”

“Or we could take more extreme measures,” said Derek.

There was a chill that rippled through the room.

“Like what?” asked JJ cautiously.

Derek opened his mouth to speak, but hesitated. His eyes flickered over all of them. They caught Spencer’s for a moment, and he knew instantly what Derek wanted to say, because he’d had the same thought himself.

They probably all had.

If the Unsub was determined not to let them die, they all knew what to do to provoke her.

Still, they stared questioningly at Derek in a façade of ignorance.

“Never mind,” he said. “Emily is right. We’ll reassess when we know more.”

He'd hoped that getting food would feel like a victory.

The second delivery came sometime later, maybe 12 hours, maybe days, he didn’t know. The third delivery came some time after that. This one brought a return of the fruit, but retained the bottles of Ensure. The fruit and the shakes combined to make a relatively sustainable diet, actually. It could theoretically be maintained for a long, long time.

It did not feel like victory.

They were alive. They were going to stay alive.

For what? For an endless fluorescent day? For mind-numbing tedium? For four walls and an unpredictable cycle of humiliation and discomfort?

The worst of it was how quickly the routine set in.

They went back to sleeping all at the same time to imitate night and day. They went back to daily exercise. They structured their lives around the food deliveries.

Soon, they had a delivery with a little bottle of soap. A reward for good behavior, presumably. He was genuinely grateful for it, which made him feel physically ill to realize.

When was the right time to make a move? How long would they need to endure this before they considered drastic measures?

Nobody wanted to be the first to bring it up.

Spencer found himself longing for another note. Another shocking reveal. Anything, anything at all. Sometimes he would stare up at the vent and fantasize about seeing gas leak out just to feel the adrenaline rush. He wanted to get high. He would do anything to get high.

“Reid.”

His head snapped around to the sound. Rossi was clicking his fingers from across the room, trying to get his attention.

“What?”

“It’s your turn, kid.”

“Why do we keep doing this? You can’t possibly believe it’s actually making a difference.”

“What the fuck else do you have going on in your busy schedule?” shot back Rossi.

“Closing my eyes and pretending I’m alone,” he said irritably. “I was enjoying it.”

“Come on Spence, you know if Rossi doesn’t get at least an hour a day to pretend he’s at a high school girls sleepover party he chucks a tantrum,” said JJ, leaning her head back against the wall behind her and looking as if she’d find reading the dictionary less boring than this.

“So, you can force us all into yoga and go on and on about keeping us healthy, but god forbid I try to keep us sane, that’s just taking it too far,” said Rossi sarcastically.

"Can you all just shut the hell up?” snapped Emily. “We all get one activity. That’s the deal. Spencer, I know you're annoyed that we won't just let you sleep 24/7, but stop bitching for one goddamn second and take your turn.”

“Fine. Dare.”

They all groaned. “You can’t pick dare every time,” said Derek.

“I don’t recall that being in the rules,” said Spencer.

It was round four and he’d already had to try and do a handstand (he couldn’t), see if he could hold his breath longer than Derek (he could but he nearly passed out doing it), and put on a spirited performance of Lady Macbeth’s ‘out damned spot’ monologue (which sounded less spirited than completely monotone).

“The rest of us are playing properly. You have to as well,” said JJ prissily, despite her earlier criticism of Rossi behaving like a teenage girl.

“No, because I already know what you’re going to ask,” said Spencer. “Just give me the dare.”

A chorus of boos echoed in the concrete room. “Come on Reid, if I had to tell you all that story about my disastrous first date with Hayley, you can have your turn,” said Hotch with an amused smirk.

“Yeah,” said Rossi. “You don’t know what we’re going to ask.”

Spencer huffed but relented. “Yes, I do. But whatever. Truth, if it will get you to stop being assholes about it.”

They all looked at each other, barely a second passing before they came to a silent agreement.

Emily threw her hands up to indicate that she wasn't a part of this, but even she looked liked she wanted to see how it all played out.

“Why did you start using again?” asked Derek, like he could trick Spencer into talking using the rules of the game.

He groaned, crossing his arms over his chest. “I already told you-”

“Yeah, yeah,” interrupted Derek. “Addicts relapse, there’s no rhyme or reason for it, yadda yadda yadda. I call bullshit.”

"How would you even know?" he snapped.

He wasn't really upset, honestly. He'd have to be able to summon stronger feelings than mild annoyance for that to happen. But fighting was something to pass the time. They all did it, but him and Derek made into something of a sport.

It was strange. They had never fought before in any meaningful way. Prior to being in the bunker, Derek was possibly the person he trusted most in the world to be calm and even handed with him no matter what. Maybe that was why it was so easy to prod at him: because he knew it could never break anything between them.

Or maybe it was because Derek felt so betrayed and hurt by him that it was already broken.

Either way, it was something to do.

"Because I know you," said Derek. "Something obviously happened, man, we can all see that."

They all nodded in agreement. Hotch's brows were furrowed and he had dropped the playfulness he'd had only a minute ago, but he hung on every word of the conversation. Even Emily shrugged apologetically, not disagreeing with their assessment.

"Now who's full of shit? You don't know anything. You didn't even know I was using."

Derek opened his mouth to bite back, but JJ beat him to it.

“Come on, Spence. We’re all stuck here. Are you really never going to talk about it?” asked JJ.

“That’s the plan,” he said petulantly. “Since every time I do talk about it you all think you know better, anyway.”

“Fine,” said Rossi. “If you refuse to tell us about whatever made you relapse,” he said, refusing to consider Spencer’s stated position that there was no dramatic triggering event, “we will ask you a different question.”

Derek and JJ looked at each other, both seeming very unwilling to let the subject drop. With a gentle "Come on, guys," from Emily they finally acquiesced.

"Give us a minute to think of a new question," said Rossi diplomatically, as if it would be rude to skip his turn.

"Whatever," said Spencer. "I need the bathroom."

He got up and they all politely focused their attention on each other and away from the doorless bathroom. They raised their voices while he relieved himself, and he pretended they weren't there.

It wasn't an ideal system, but they all pushed through.

After washing his hands, he paused a moment. He reached down to the bolt that was just under the right side of the metal sink, helping to affix it to the concrete wall.

While there was no door, the sink was recessed, not visible to the camera. He fiddled with the bolt silently while the others continued to pointedly not look his way. It was loosening a little more each time he went in there.

He hadn't mentioned it to any of them yet, and nobody else seemed to have noticed it.

He entered back into the main room and retook his position on the floor.

"Good timing," said Rossi. "I believe we have reached an agreement," he said, like the foreman of a jury.

"Don't worry," said Emily with a half smile. "It's nothing too objectionable."

"What-" started Rossi, before he was cut off.

“Why do you do it?”

It took a moment for Spencer to process who had spoken.

Everyone turned to stare at Hotch, who was in turn scrutinizing Spencer. He’d seen that look before, many times since waking up in the bunker.

Hotch was looking at him like he was trying to solve a puzzle with impossibly high stakes.

"Do what?" he asked, not following the train of thought.

Hotch hesitated. "Why do you use drugs?"

"I..." he looked at the others, hoping one of them might explain what he was missing, but they all looked just as baffled as him. "We just went over this-"

Hotch interrupted him. “I'm not asking why you relapsed. I'm asking why do you keep using? What do you get out of it?”

Spencer squirmed. There was something heavy in the way Hotch spoke that broke through the numbness enough to make him feel self-conscious. “Come on Hotch, you are- were- a profiler. What can I tell you that you don’t know?”

The rest of the group was looking back and forth between the two of them, dead silent, leaned forward like there was nothing in the world more important than hearing what both of them had to say.

“I know the science and the psychology, sure. I’m not asking about why people use drugs, I’m asking why you do it.”

There was something in the tightness around his eyes. In the rigidity of his posture.

He needed this.

For whatever reason, Hotch needed the answer to this question.

For the thousandth time, he wondered what had happened to this man in the years they'd been parted.

There was a time, after Tobias, where it could have changed everything for him if Hotch had just sat him down and spoken to him like this. If he had really cared to know the answer.

Was that what this was? Some kind of guilt for all the conversations that didn't happen when they should have?

No. There was something else. He didn't know what it was, but it was important.

As he studied Hotch, he thought about that young, terrified version of himself that wanted nothing more than for someone to force him to confront his demons before they grew too big.

Maybe they could both get something they needed, even if it was far too late to make a difference for either of them.

“Okay,” he said. "Let me think."

The others all held various expressions of shock. JJ’s eyes widened. Derek looked him up and down. None of them moved, almost as if they were afraid to spook him. Like one wrong move and he would never speak again.

How could he make this make sense to any of them?

They all approached his substance use like they approached a profile. They had to find the root cause, look for patterns, identify triggers. They didn’t understand that none of that mattered.

Whatever it was that Hotch wanted from him, he decided, he would try to give it to him. They were all probably going to die down here anyway.

He started with a deep breath. “When I was a kid, I never understood why my mom wouldn’t get treatment or why she would always go off her meds,” he said softly. “She was functional when she was on them. It made her life easier, and it made my life easier. I knew they had side effects, but even then, I couldn’t comprehend how she could choose to be unwell even though she knew how much damage it was doing to both of us.”

He paused. Took another breath. He was glad to be numb. He hoped his capacity to feel deeply never came back. The others looked at him with soft, sad eyes.

Not Hotch, though. Hotch was looking at him like his students did when he was giving a lecture on a topic they knew would be on the exam.

He blocked the rest of them out, focusing all his attention on his studious pupil.

“I think I get it now,” he said. “Despite the paranoia and the agoraphobia and all the awful parts, she used to talk about these incredible things that she would see and experience that nobody else could. Like she knew a secret the rest of us weren’t privy to. Sometimes… that’s how I feel with all of you,” he admitted. “When you tell me you don’t understand why I use opiates, it’s like you’re telling me you don’t understand why I eat or drink or breath. And I get it now. I get why she couldn't fight it. It's exhausting, having to fight something that's such an intrinsic part of you."

"But you did fight it," Hotch pointed out. "You were clean for years."

"Sure. But it was never easy. I spent a lot of that time thinking about what I was missing."

Hotch frowned. "And what is that?"

Spencer bit his lip, not sure how to explain it. "The thing about IV opioids is that they feel pretty great," he settled on, and it felt like telling a small child that the thing about the sun is it's pretty hot. "Whatever you're imagining, it's far better than that.”

The response sounded flippant, he knew, but what the hell else was he supposed to say?

Hotch was nodding as he took in the words. His thoughts were inscrutable to Spencer, so all he could do was wait for a reaction.

From what little he knew of Hotch's youth, he wouldn't be shocked if he'd at least dabbled in narcotics before straightening out as a teenager. He sincerely doubted that any of that rebellion had involved needles, though. It was hard to compare. IV narcotics were a world away from the experiences that any of the rest of them had, and it was hard to articulate how different it was.

How could he explain it? Hey guys, have you ever known true peace for the first and only time in your life? I don't believe in god, but I'm pretty sure I experience divinity every time I shoot up?

“Can it really feel good enough to be worth what it costs you in all other parts of your life?” asked Hotch eventually. It was the obvious question, really. “Good enough to be worth the withdrawal symptoms? The risk to your career? The strain on your relationships? Or the hundred other problems that come from being in active addiction?”

“It’s not like that,” he said simply. “You’re looking at it the wrong way.”

“Okay. Then what’s it like?”

“When you're clean, you have a hundred problems. When you're using, you have one problem, with one solution.”

“It’s a pretty big problem,” said Hotch.

“It’s also a pretty spectacular solution.”

Hotch stared at him for a long time this time. There was silence, the kind you could hear your own heartbeat in, but it didn’t feel heavy. It felt like they were alone in the room.

“Dare,” said Hotch.

Spencer tilted his head, trying to decipher what he could possibly mean.

Hotch broke eye contact. He looked at the rest of the room. “It’s my turn, isn’t it? I pick dare.”

At once, the spell was broken.

Whatever Hotch had been looking for, he'd apparently found it.

Spencer leaned back against the wall, pulling his knees up and resting his arms on them. Derek put a hand on his shoulder for just a moment, a small gesture of support, but otherwise they let him be.

The others breathed out their stalled breaths and put their heads together to brainstorm a dare for Hotch to do. For about the length of time it took to drink a bottle of Ensure, they kept glancing at him with varying degrees of curiosity and concern, but eventually the atmosphere shifted from forced nonchalance to genuine play.

The game continued on, and they all went back to bickering and snapping at each other as a way to stave off boredom as much as any kind of genuine irritation. When it came to his turn, they silently skipped over it.

Apparently, he’d finally done enough to be left alone for a while.

During one truth for Derek, which left him telling an elaborate story about the time he got kicked out of a nightclub after a friend spiked his drink when he was 20, Emily leaned over and whispered to him.

“You okay?” He didn’t say anything, but he bumped his shoulder against hers in an attempt at reassurance. She looked around to make sure nobody was paying attention to them, and whispered again, “Thank you. For telling us that.”

He leaned in and whispered back, “Whatever is going on with him, I hope it helped.”

She squeezed his arm. “Me too.”

She turned her attention back to the game.

He tuned out once again.

One big problem: Escape the bunker.

One spectacular solution: Force the Unsub to reveal herself somehow. Put them in a position to make a move.

She didn't want them to die. It was the one thing they could be really certain of. Whatever she wanted, it involved keeping them alive, likely for a long time.

They needed to create urgency. They needed something so dire, that she would be forced to enter the room and intervene before she had time to knock them out with gas.

The tedium, the daily trudge of survival, these things were not his strong suit. People who can function like that don't do heroin. People who can endure hardship with grace and fortitude don't stick needles in their arms.

But finding the simplest solution to the direst problem, no matter the risk to himself?

He was an expert at that.

He could break her. He knew he could. It was just a question of if he could do it without breaking everyone else.

#spencer reid hurt/comfort #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #Spencer Reid fic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #criminal minds angst #BAU #bau team #bau team as family #bisexual Spencer Reid #Aaron hotchner #david Rossi #Emily Prentiss #Derek Morgan #criminal minds #criminal minds evolution #criminal minds fandom

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dotspoetrycorner · 1 year ago

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Grease: Rise of the Pink Ladies Cynthia x Reader Part 8

Chapter 8: Vote Pink

The next morning went as usual except I didn’t have any friends now. I had to walk to school and had no one to sit with in class most of the day. Right before our assembly for student council speeches Susan, Dot, and Rosemary stopped me in the hallway.

“Ella!” Rosemary called out, “We forgive you for what happened last night.”Dot continued, “you’re so important to us El, we don’t what to lose you just because of a small disagreement.” ‘Small disagreement’ right, because me not wanting to be a part of ruining someones reputation is a small disagreement. But they are my friends, and I know they do care about me. And I care about them. Then Susan spoke up, “Of course if you do anything like that again we can’t speak to you again.” Of course. “Sit with us at the assembly?” Dot asked. I can’t say no to Dot, she’s my best friend. “Of course” I replied. We went into the gym, I sat in between Dot and Susan, and we waited for the assembly to start

“I want to promise you all that nothing like the shenanigans of last night's pep rally will ever happen again. As the current class president, I take responsibility for that. I failed you. But know that because I failed you, I will work harder than ever to win back your trust.” Buddy was giving his speech, and honestly, I didn’t really believe him. I had always liked Buddy, but this week has changed how I think about so many things. Everyone around me then started to chant “let’s have fun like we did before, vote for Buddy in ’54!” Susan gripped my arm until I joined in. I always knew that it was bad if Susan was mad at you, but I didn’t know how bad it could be.

Miss McGee quieted everyone down and uncounted the start of the speeches for student council candidates. First up was Jane, but she told Miss McGee she didn’t want to run. That was until someone called her a slut in front of everybody and she ran up onto the stage.

“I just wanna say that I don't think Rydell was so fun for everyone before. It wasn't for me. And I know it hasn't been for a lot of kids who don't fit in for whatever reason, 'cause we're considered strange or the wrong type. The truth is that most people in this auditorium aren't popular. Some don't even want to be. We just wanna be ourselves but we haven't even gotten the chance to do that yet or to have fun. 'Cause we're too busy just trying to survive high school.”

She was perfectly putting into words what I had been feeling this whole week. So continued, “Maybe you've accepted that. Maybe you're used to things being that way at Rydell. As the new girl, I'll tell you, it's crap.” Miss Mcgee interrupted her, “Jane, if you're not going to run-“ “I endorse her.” I looked over to see Olivia Valdovinos walking up to stand with Jane. Then Susan butted in “You can't endorse her. She isn't running for anything.” “Well, maybe she should. I endorse her too.” Cynthia stood up and also went to the stage, then Nancy saying “me three.”

Everyone started shouting until Miss McGee hushed them and turned back to Jane “Now, Jane, would you like to throw your hat back into the ring?” “Yes.” She answered, “For president.” Woah. Her announcement was followed by more chatter and booing. Jane could make an actual change here; but I can’t support it with my friends. Everything following happened so fast. I looked back at the stage and immediately locked eyes with Cynthia. Cynthia, the realest friend I’ve had. I shifted in my seat. Susan grabbed my arm and whispered “if you say anything we will never talk to you again.” Honestly, I’m okay with that.

I stood up, shaking Susan’s hand off me and yelled “vote for Jane” as loud as I could. The 4 girls up front looked at me and Cynthia repeated “vote for Jane”, turned around, and pulled down her skirt, mooning the whole school. I immediately turned my head to face the other way, trying not to laugh as everyone gasped. When I turned back, the girls were running off the stage and were headed towards the door to the parking lot. Cynthia quickly changed course towards me, grabbed my hand and pulled me with them.

We ran outside and Olivia found the keys to the t- birds car (expertly hidden one top of the front seat) and hopped behind the wheel. We all followed, Jane jumping in the front seat and Cynthia pulling me into the back. I tried to jump over the car door but my shoe got caught, making me fall forward. Into Cynthia. We were both shocked, our noses touching and our eyes wide. I got a really weird feeling being so close to her. It didn’t make sense, we used to sit close all the time, its just what friends do. Maybe I just wasn’t used to being friends with her again. Olivia started to car and we all took off, snapping Cynthia and I out of, whatever that was.

“Holy smokes! What did we just do?!” Jane asked. “We just gave the best campaign speech in all of Rydell!” Olivia answered. “We just stole a car!” I said, the reality of the situation just now setting in. “And it was amazing” Cynthia chimed in. “And we looked great doing it” Nancy said. “What am I going to do? No one’s going to vote for me now.” Jane said, seemingly also regretting what we had done. “You have a great platform, Jane. The socs have been controlling Rydell for too long, people will like what you said” Olivia stated. She made a lot of sense, and people do love someone who breaks the rules. “You’re like a vigilante. Steal from the rich give to the poor type stuff. People like that. We can work with it.” I spoke up, running through different campaign strategies in my head. The Jane spoke again, “maybe you’re right. But I didn’t do this speech alone, I can’t do my campaign alone.” “The 5 of us together could really shake up this school” Cynthia said. Jane sat there fro a minute before saying the sentence that would change it all:

“We’re gonna need some jackets”

#grease #rise of the pink ladies #cynthia zdunowski #cynthia zdunowski x reader

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hotforharrison · 4 months ago

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It’s now been 12 weeks since we separated, and 8 since he moved out of what used to be our home completely. (A lot of his stuff is still here, though, because he doesn’t have space for it at the moment in his new place.)

Living alone in and of itself is something I despise, which I already knew from my college days and life before I met him, but living in the house we made into our home is devastating in ways I hadn’t anticipated.

I thought at one point that I’d adjust after a little while and find a roommate or two and stay here after the agreed upon period of time I have to get back on my feet – just pay for my portion of the rent and utilities.

But it hasn’t gotten any easier over the last two months – if anything, it’s gotten harder.

Days go by now when we don’t speak at all, and I can’t stop the constant reminders of him when his things and the memories we made here still surround me.

I can’t use a pencil eraser to erase a page covered with pen marks of the last decade we called this our home.

I’ve been gradually making changes, but it doesn’t override how fully and completely that this place was –well, still is in my heart– ours, and how much it’s a part of the 17 year long story we shared.

I’m not sure how to fully end this chapter while I’m still here, while he’s still my “landlord” of sorts, and I can’t make a clean break and have to live in this terrible in-between.

I’ve transitioned from making changes to make this house more “mine” into making strategic changes of things I don’t already have that I can take with me if I do choose to move out at the end of the agreed upon period, which I’m reasonably certain I will.

I have a handful of things that are definitely my own – a desk, a bookcase, a couple of fabric storage bin cube organizers. I think I could convince him to let me take the futon in my new room so I have a bed, but the vast majority of the furniture and things here are his and in his style.

I was happy to let him decorate and furnish our home with the things he likes because they’re a part of him, and I loved him and all of those parts.

There are a few money making apps I use (but I don’t recommend because of the return based on time investment) that I get cash or Amazon gift cards from, and my next purchase is going to be an inexpensive TV stand for the living room to put the TV I own on.

It’s not even close to as nice as his TV, but it doesn’t have to be. I don’t use it often at the moment – it’s more for spending time with guests watching something. It’s a Roku TV (a 6 year old model that hopefully still works with free streaming options). I use it so little that I won’t be buying any subscription services.

I’m boxing up his decor, and there’s so much of it, dividing down what is mine from the media bookcase (not very much, doubt it’s even a single shelf worth from a completely full tall bookcase). Something to put my paltry amount of media on is also on my list of things to acquire.

I’m in the process of rearranging the furniture in the living room so it might make me a little less sad when I hope to eventually host people, including my (fingers crossed) next boyfriend.

A divorce lawyer in a podcast I was listening to said 86% of people who divorce end up remarried within 5 years.

I hope I’m one of them.

I want to have someone to go through life with instead of walking this path alone.

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braveclementine · 7 months ago

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Chapter 8

Warnings: None, Readers under 18 can read this book. It is solely fluff- nothing sexual

Copyright: I do not own any Wizarding World characters that J.K. Rowling wrote. I do however own Elizabeth Kane (main character) and Trang Nyguen (best friend). There should be no use of these two names without my permission. I also do not condone any copying of this.

.❤️.

𝕴 𝖓𝖔𝖜 𝖍𝖆𝖉 three friends: Hermione, Harry, and Ronald who I now called Ron. We studied together, ate together, and visited Hagrid together. We worked together in Herbology (unless I worked alone). Ron and I had a mutual polite friendship. I still hadn't forgiven him for his harsh words with Hermione, though I knew in the end they were going to be great friends.

Once it started getting colder, Quidditch season started. Hagrid was defrosting brooms every morning and if I didn't have a class, I would bundle myself up in my jacket and boots, and brave the cold to help him. It wasn't easy work, but I felt satisfied every time that I set a defrosted broom aside. At least, until my fingers started to go numb.

I started going into the forest, speaking and learning with the centaurs, only once a week now. It was just to cold for me to go more than once.

One of the good things about having Harry and Ron as friends was that there was more laughter now. With Hermione, it was mostly studying, though I would make a few jokes, but Ron loved to make jokes, and it made my life a bit more delightful.

Three other friends that I really hadn't expected to make were Fred and George Weasley, and Lee Jordan. They wanted to know if I was smarter than Hermione, and as a challenge, they would give me a random spell they were learning in the third year, and see if I could do it. Nine times out of ten I was able to do it- after a couple of tries. If I couldn't do it, I practiced it on the side and when I finally mastered it, I would show them.

Fred and George were also on the Quidditch team and sometimes they invited me to come down after their practices, and we would race on the brooms. I loved flying, probably something I had gotten from James side of the genes, considering he had been a seeker.

My extra tutoring with Professor Flitwick was helping me learn more in class, and soon I was even ahead of Hermione. Even though I knew there wasn't really a competition, I wasn't really competing against Hermione, I had this rushing feeling that I had to know everything. And with Fred, George, and Lee's challenges, I was moving farther ahead than everyone. At least in Transfiguration and Charms.

All in all, everything was going very well. Well, except for Astronomy. I wasn't doing horribly, just an EE instead of an O grade. But that was a sore in my thumb. I hated not having all O's. I supposed I'd just have to work harder.

Everyone was getting excited for the first Quidditch game of the season. I was hyped as well. It had been leaked- though I'd known long before- that Harry was the new Gryffindor Seeker. There were mixed opinions about this new conundrum.

At the same time, I was very worried about the upcoming match because of a concerning vision that I had seen part of. I was foreseeing the broomstick that Harry was riding trying to chuck him off. Sure, in my vision Harry managed to stay on until the broom stabilized, but still, there was always the off chance that my vision wasn't right, right?

The morning of the Quidditch match, I left the Hufflepuff table to sit with the Gryffindors.

"You've got to eat some breakfast." I said to Harry, sliding him over a plate of bacon as I sat down. He just looked at it. He looked like he was going to be sick.

"I don't want anything." He said, putting his hand on the plate like he was going to push it away but didn't.

"Just a bit of toast." Hermione tried to persuade him next.

"I'm not hungry." Harry said.

"Harry you need you're strength. Seekers are always the ones who get clobbered by the other team." Seamus said, plopping ketchup on his sausages. I wrinkled my nose. What horrible taste buds.

"Thanks Seamus." Harry said dejectedly, but I laughed, hoping Harry would lighten up with humor. I grabbed my own plate of eggs and sausage and ate in front of Harry, telling him all the while about what he was missing out on. He finally choked down some toast and I felt that I had done a good job with it.

Harry soon left after to join the team. Fred walked by with George and Oliver Wood. He looked over and winked at me. I rolled my eyes and shouted, "good luck." to them. They didn't need it, they were gong to win. Of that much I was sure.

Hermione, Ron, Seamus, Neville, Dean, and I all walked out to the Quidditch stands. We were up nearly 300 feet in the air, probably higher. We sat on a wooden bench, clutching our scarves and hats around us to keep warm. My yellow and black Hufflepuff colors stood out among the gold and scarlet of Gryffindor.

I watched the players walk out onto the field. Madam Hooch was talking to them and I watched Oliver shake hands with Marcus Flint. Oliver was handsome, whereas Marcus looked a bit like a troll. Actually, thinking about it, he looked like someone that I'd known in elementary school. I think his name had been Michael or something like that.

They mounted their brooms and Madam Hooch tossed the Quaffle in the air, starting the game. The minute Angelina Johnson took the ball, Lee was jabbering away into his magical microphone in the commentator's/teacher's box.

"And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor- what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too- "

"JORDAN!"

"Sorry, Professor." Jordan said dismissively. I giggled. I loved Jordan's commentary. It was good to have humor in such a fierce, tense, competitive sport.

"And she's really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good find of Oliver Wood's, last year only a reserve- back to Johnson and- no, the Slytherins have taken the Quaffle, Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint gains the Quaffle and off he goes- Flint flying like an eagle up there- he's going to sc- no, stopped by an excellent move by Gryffindor Keeper Wood and the Gryffindors take the Quaffle- that's Chaser Katie Bell of Gryffindor there, nice dive around Flint, off up the field and- OUCH- that must have hurt, hit in the back of the head by a Bludger- Quaffle taken by the Slytherins- that's Adrian Pucey speeding off toward the goal posts, but he's blocked by a second Bludger- sent his way by Fred or George Weasley, can't tell which-nice play by the Gryffindor Beater anyway, and Johnson back in possession of the Quaffle, a clear field ahead and off she goes-"

Suddenly Lee's voice seemed to disappear and a different voice came into my head. "Keep an eye on Quirrell, won't you Severus?"

I gave a start, hearing the words in my head. It was Dumbledore's voice. I wasn't exactly sure who he was talking to, but I looked over at the teacher's stands. They were all too far away to make out if Quirrell was doing anything or not.

Who was Severus? It had to be the first name of one of the teachers. I thought about the name long and hard, trying to put a face to the name. Hadn't Dad mentioned the name Severus in one of his letters to me?

Ron and Hermione's voices broke my thought process, "Hagrid!"

I glanced up and smiled at Hagrid who was trying to sit down on the small benches. I scooted over, bumping into Dean, and Hermione also scooted over, closer to me. Ron scooted the other way so Hagrid was between the two of them.

"Bin watchin' from me hut," Hagrid said, patting a large pair of binoculars. "But it isn't the same as bein' in the crowd. No sign of the snitch yet, eh?"

Ron went to answer him and I tapped Hagrid on the arm, "Can I borrow the binoculars for a moment?"

He handed them to me and I looked over at the teachers stands. Snape looked tense and bored at the same time. His black hair curtained his face so that he had a good view of Quirrell out of the corner of his eye. He was the one whose first name was Severus. Severus. Severus Snape. I smiled, it had a nice ring to it. Then, I got back to business.

McGonagall was sitting closely to Lee in case she ever needed to grab the mic out of his hands. Quirrell looked nervous, his eyes darting around. Dumbledore wasn't even in the stands so I wasn't entirely sure if he was even talking about now or later. Or for what. Why did someone- Professor Snape- need to keep an eye on Quirrell? Did Dumbledore suspect Quirrell had gone after the stone? If so, why hadn't he done anything about it? What did Dumbledore know?

"Slytherin in possession," Lee continued, "Chaser Pucey ducks two bludgers, two Weasleys, and Chaser Bell, and speeds toward the- wait a moment- was that the snitch?"

Adrian dropped the Quaffle, distracted by the flash of gold that flitted past his ear. Harry must've seen it as well because he dived down after it. The Slytherin chaser, I forget his name, chased after the snitch as well. I clutched Hermione's arm as Harry gained on the snitch until-

WHAM! I yelled out with the rest of the Gryffindors in rage as Marcus Flint flew in front of Harry's broom. Harry smashed into him, and his broom spun off course. I could tell Harry was holding on for dear life. Or maybe I could just feel it.

"Foul!" The Gryffindors around me were screaming.

Madam Hooch was speaking very angrily with Flint but I looked away, distracted by Dean Thomas who was shouting, "Send him off ref! Red Card!"

"What are you talking about, Dean?" Ron asked, confused though I knew exactly what Dean was talking about.

"Red card!" Dean spit out furiously, waving his hands like a maniac. "In soccer you get shown the red card and you're out of the game."

"But this isn't soccer, Dean!" Ron said, exasperated. Ron had a point too. After all, this was Quidditch. The player's could get away with murder and they'd still be on the team- at least until after the game was over. You couldn't just have the players off the team (unless, you know, the games went on for longer than a day). Hagrid started arguing for Dean's side, but I listened in to Lee instead.

"So- after that obvious and disgusting bit of cheating-"

"Jordan!" Professor McGonagall growled.

"I mean, after that open and revolting foul-"

"Jordan, I'm warning you-"

I couldn't help but laugh at Lee and Professor McGonagall, even though I knew something even worse was coming up for Harry. I kept darting my eyes upward, trying to see when it would happen. Somehow, I knew that I would know before it happened.

"All right, all right. Flint nearly kills the Gryffindor Seeker, which could happen to anyone, I'm sure, so a penalty to Gryffindor, taken by Spinnet, who puts it away, no trouble, and we continue play, Gryffindor in possession." Lee says sarcastically and I grin, though I kept my laughs in this time.

I kept my eyes on Harry now, the minute he was going to dodge that bludger. . . and he dodged the bludger. I tightened my grip on Hermione's arm. He looked like he was doing Muggle bull riding, just on a really skinny bull. It kept bouncing him up and down. Looking through the binoculars, I saw his knuckles were white from gripping it so hard.

Hagrid grabbed the binoculars from my hands and looked through them, pointed up towards Harry. "Dunno what Harry thinks he's doing. If I didn't know better, I'd say he'd lost control of his broom. . .but he can't have. . ."

I took the binoculars back and watched as his broom started doing barrel rolls, over and over until finally, Harry fell, hanging from the broom with only one hand.

"Did something happen when Flint block him?" Seamus asked in a loud whisper.

"Really need to work on your whispering skills Seamus." I retorted out of the side of my mouth.

"Can't have. Can't nothing interfere with a broomstick except powerful Dark magic- no kid could do that to a Nimbus Two Thousand." Hagrid said, his voice shaken.

Hermione grabbed the binoculars from my hands and I gritted my teeth. Didn't anyone understand that there was this word called 'please'?

"What are you doing?" Ron asked, looking very gray-faced.

"I knew it," Hermione gasped, "Snape-look."

Ron looked through the binoculars and passed them back to Hermione who handed them back to me. I pressed them quickly to my eyes and looked at the teachers stands. Snape was muttering under his breath, his eyes locked on Harry's broom. I moved the binoculars up where Quirrell was also sitting, in the same pose as Snape. His eyes, locked on Harry and his mouth moving. Obviously, he wasn't stuttering.

"He's doing something- jinxing the broom." Hermione said, apparently not having noticed Quirrell.

"What should we do?" Ron moaned.

"Leave it to me." Hermione said, squirming her way past people in their seats.

Fred and George were now circling below Harry, hoping to catch him if he fell as every time they'd tried to get up to him, his broom had flown higher into the air. Flint grabbed the Quaffle, scoring five times, but no one seemed to have noticed, everyone's eyes fixed on Harry's.

Why weren't the Professors doing anything? Professor McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout, Sinistra. Why did none of them try anything? Only Professor Snape was doing something and he obviously was fighting Quirrell's curse. But still, why wasn't an adult doing anything? Why was it in mine and Hermione's hands? We were eleven years old! Blimey the way Wizarding school works!

I found myself following Hermione, and we ran down the steps, and then through the inner-workings of the stands. There was some uneven pathways and holes, and we had to maneuver ourselves through it quickly. Not to mention ducking under the beams that held up the stands. I really hoped they were magically reinforced because they looked rather unstable.

"Hermione!" I called after her. She just quickened her pace, and I couldn't say a word about it possibly being Quirrell, because I was gasping for breath as we ran, sprinting towards the other end where the teachers stands were.

Finally, we were under the teacher stands, directly below Snape. Hermione pulled out her wand and pointed it at Snape's robes. Blue flames leaped upon his clothing and I jumped back. I pointed my wand up towards Quirrell's robes, and lit them on fire while she wasn't watching.

I heard Quirrell yelp and Hermione was scooping the blue flames off of Snape's robes into a jar and then scooped the flames off Quirrell, shooting me an annoyed look. I stuck my tongue out at her behind her back. I had to cover all the bases and really, I could've scooped the fire up myself!

We hurried back to where we had been sitting before, this time I was in the lead. Hermione and I stopped, looking up to see if our job had worked out.

Harry was racing down towards the Quidditch pitch and then he pulled up into a clean straight wave. Jumping to his feet, he rode the broom like a surf-board reaching out for the golden-snitch. He moved his foot the wrong way and he fell forward, tumbling forward and doing multiple somersaults on the ground.

He swallowed the snitch, I thought calmly as the crowd gasped in horror and shock.

He had tumbled forward to where he was now sitting up. He held his hands in front of his mouth. Hermione clapped her hands to her mouth. I watched, amused, as he coughed up the golden snitch, waving it around, and getting to his feet.

Gryffindor had won one hundred and seventy points to sixty.

Meanwhile, Harry, Ron, Hermione and I were in Hagrid's hut where Hagrid was making tea, bustling around his tiny kitchen pulling out mugs and a kettle.

"It was Snape." Ron said to Harry, "Hermione and I saw him. He was cursing your broomstick, muttering, he wouldn't take his eyes off you."

"Rubbish." Hagrid said, and I privately agreed with him. "Why would Snape do somethin' like that?"

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I looked at each other. I knew, of course, Harry's theory about Snape trying to get past the three-headed dog on Halloween night. I, of course, knowing that Snape had actually stopped Quirrell from doing so, kept silent. I wasn't about to tell them since I knew (somehow for some reason) that they shouldn't know yet.

"I found out something about him. He tried to get past that three-headed dog on Halloween. It bit him. We think he was trying to steal whatever it's guarding." Harry said, after exchanging a look with Ron and Hermione.

Hagrid dropped the teapot. It smashed into bits on the floor, sending blue and black pottery pieces everywhere. I leapt up and pointed my wand at it. "Reparo."

"How do you know about Fluffy?" Hagrid asked, not bothering to pick up the tea pot. I levitated it back onto the table and then picked it up, and went to the sink to fill it back up with hot water. I stuck another tea bag into it, disposing of the tea bag that Fang was sniffing on the floor.

"Fluffy?" Ron asked, sounding revolted.

"That thing has a name?" Hermione squealed.

I set the kettle down to boil. I kept my face, facing away from them. There were multiple flashes happening in my mind again and I squeezed my eyes shut as a burning pain echoed in the place where my locket was set against my skin. Harry looking in the mirror, seeing our family. The red stone again. A dead unicorn. Firenze the centaur, carrying Harry on his back. (Oh, the centaurs weren't going to be happy about that). The night sky, Mars was looking bright. (That was a bad sign).

"Yeah- he's mine- bought him off a Greek chappie I met in the pub las' year- I lent him to Dumbledore to guard the-" Hagrid broke off quickly and I pulled the kettle off the stove, filling the mugs with boiling tea.

"Yes?" Harry asked, obviously eager to find out what Hagrid was going to say. I knew it was the red stone. . . but what was the stone called? I couldn't just tell them it was a red stone. The red stone could be anything: A ruby, dragon stone, dragon glass. . . anything! Things we didn't even know the names to! I wondered if there was a book of red things around.

"Now, don't ask me anymore. That's top secret, that is." Hagrid said gruffly, quickly taking a sip out of his large mug.

"But Snape's trying to steal it!" Harry said, trying to sound convincing. But really, I thought, eager as I was for adventure, it really wasn't our business, was it?

"Rubbish. Snape's a Hogwarts teacher, he'd do nothing' of the sort." Hagrid said, brushing off Harry's concerns.

"So why did he just try and kill Harry?" Hermione asked Hagrid defensively, "I know a jinx when I see one, Hagrid, I've read all about them! You've got to keep eye contact, and Snape wasn't blinking at all, I saw him."

I interrupted before Hagrid could. "Quirrell also wasn't taking his eyes off Harry, Hermione. How do we know that it wasn't Quirrell?"

"I'm tellin' yeh, yer both wrong!" Hagrid said before Hermione could answer me. "I don' know why Harry's broom acted like that, but Snape wouldn try an' kill a student! Neither would Quirrell fer that matter. Now, listen to me, all four of yeh- yer meddlin' in things that don' concern yeh. It's dangerous. You forget that dog, an' you forget what it's guardin', that's between Professor Dumbledore an' Nicholas Flamel-"

"Aha! So there's someone called Nicholas Flamel involved, is there?" Harry said, smiling triumphantly.

I shook my head, turning away. Hagrid looked furious with himself.

⬅️➡️

#Braveclementineworks #Braveclementinenovels #Novel #ElizabethKane #ElizabethKaneseries #ElizabethKaneandthesorcerersstone #Severus Snape #RemusLupin #Dumbledore #WizardingWorld #Hagrid #Quidditch #Hufflepuff #Hogwarts #HarryPotter #HermioneGranger #Weaselytwins #HarryPottersister #WizardingWorldAU

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dark-night-star-light · 1 year ago

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Spirit Animals: The Wildcat's Claw (Reread pt. 15)

DISCLAIMER: WILL CONTAIN SPOILERS FOR THE ENTIRE SERIES EXCEPT THE BOOK OF SHANE.

Masterpost

Chapter 1

“There was bloodshed in every village” (2). So, same as the Second Devourer War, then?

“There was no village, no militia, and no army that could prevail against a legion of Greencloaks when they partnered with their spirit animals” (2). Okay, I sort of get the point against having a group be too powerful. But didn’t these people notice the spiral that was on the Greencloaks’ brows and understand what happened? Weren’t they told it wasn’t the fault of the Greencloaks?

“She released Myriam from passive state” (2). I am 99% sure that Myriam was spelled Miriam the last time.

“ . . . they exuded a sense of accomplishment” (3). What does that even mean?

“It was the first food she’d seen in two days” (4). Why are they starving her? Don’t they want her alive?

“‘Go on, take a bite. Eat it all. Gorge yourself.’ . . . Lenori instead curled her hands into her lap” (4). Why didn’t she eat it? It’s not like the Oathbound were holding it away from her.

“Then the woman struck Lenori again, even harder” (5). Are they allowed to abuse prisoners before a trial has even taken place? How is that legal?

“Then slowly, she ground the food between her fingers, disintegrating it. Her faith may be tested, but she would not falter” (7). How is it a betrayal if you eat a small piece of cheese? Does she want to be constantly hungry?

Chapter 2

“It was an invisible burden he feared he would carry for the rest of his life” (8). Oh, thank goodness the narrative didn’t show him getting over the Wyrm thing immediately.

“‘I could show you guys a real Euran meal,’ he continued. ‘Shepherd's pie and all’” (9). This kind of parallels Hunted, when he went to Trunswick looking for his family.

“Hopefully he wouldn’t start shedding or hacking up hairballs” (10). That would be hilarious.

“Meilin leaned over and thumped Rollan’s ear” (11). I should start collecting Rollan-and-Meilin-act-like-a-married-couple moments. Although I don’t really approve of the physical abuse.

“‘The rumors were that the wildcat was as large as Tellun.’ ‘No, even larger’” (12). I think it’s stupid that they’re undermining the greatness of the Great Beasts. Like, yes, it’s probably just a legend, but still.

“Conor had remembered seeing the replica of this sword, but only once, when he was working as a servant to Worthy” (12). I think it would’ve been cool if they’d shown Conor walking past the replica during the very first chapter of Wild Born.

“Shane, the former leader of the Redcloaks, had died while fighting against the Wyrm. Abeke didn’t speak of him much, but she’d cared greatly for him, even if those feelings were complicated” (13). I think we should hear more of Abeke’s inner monologues about Shane. She surely has some thoughts on him.

“‘I just want the Redcloaks’ help temporarily. Erdas doesn’t need their protection full time. That’s why there are Greencloaks’” (15). He sort of kind of has a point? Kind of?

“Just running his hands through Briggan’s luxurious gray-white fur calmed him” (15). This author appears to favor a lot of descriptive writing.

“Worthy put on a good show, but Conor knew that the whispers and judging looks bothered him” (16). He can’t be a hero if everyone thinks he’s a monster.

“‘I . . . well . . . I kind of don’t know where the records are that will lead us to the Wildcat’s Claw.’ . . . ‘You see, there was a fire at the manor. It was the only way to protect Dawson.’ Worthy shook his head. ‘It’s hard to explain. I was having a really bad day’” (17). He keeps saying that. “Worthy, why did you do [thing]?” “Oh, I was having a bad day.” Also, Devin didn’t even start that fire??? The people did?

“‘The records are there somewhere. I’m sure’” (18). Okay, so Worthy’s logic is that he thinks the library is still intact? Wow, okay. That’s just such a stupid mistake to make. He’s leading them on, and while they have little time left, too. That’s just. Ridiculous.

Chapter 3

“‘I think we can spare a few minutes if you want to see her’” (20). I wonder if Anka truly cares for Meilin on some level.

“‘That is, unless Rollan shares his cloak with us.’ Rollan seemed to blush as he pulled the thick brown cloak tightly around him” (21). Why is he blushing? Also, this is the perfect cue for someone to say “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind sharing with Meilin.”

“‘And we were the heroes of the Second Devourer War. Every gate was already open to us’” (22). Wow, okay. Huh. There really weren’t security measures?

“She cast her eyes at Conor up ahead. ‘I know,’ . . . ‘I’m not accusing him’” (23). Abeke getting defensive about Conor, my beloved.

“‘It’s important work. Maybe even more important than always looking for a fight’” (24). Meilin character development flexing go brrrrr.

“‘So what will you do next, once this is over?’ . . . ‘Retire your green cloak?’” (24). Convinced that Anka cares about Meilin and is trying to persuade her to join her side. Subtly.

“Both had died in silence, like true Zhongese warriors” (25). Today on I analyze random details too much: Meilin still has some respect for the Emperor. But Song confirmed that the Emperor liked to emulate true warriors even though he wasn’t one (the braid). We also know that the hyena ripped out the Emperor’s throat, so he logically wasn’t physically capable of making noise. So, this could be symbolism for how everyone sees the Emperor as this strong, warriorlike man, even though he’s a fake, I think.

“Meilin hoped that her face didn’t reveal how shocked she was. She hadn’t told Anka who her father was” (26). You are literally famous. People will find out anyway.

“‘I took up the cloak a few months afterward’” (26). So Anka’s claim also states that she’s new to the Greencloaks. Did she actually join the Greencloaks? Or is she lying?

“‘You’re a hero in Zhong, just like General Teng’” (26). Yeah, exactly.

Chapter 4

“‘Worthy, heroes aren’t supposed to boast,’ Meilin said” (27). Worthy’s pretty much in it for the boasting.

“Worthy only took one bite before spitting out the tough, lean meat . . . which had just meant that there was more for Rollan to eat” (28). I imagined Conor looking all wounded at this, since he caught the snake.

“Her hair was a black as Meilin’s bangs . . . ” (29). Hold on, Meilin has bangs???

“Anka had offered to switch places with him, but he politely declined, turning bright red in the process” (30). Hmmmmm. Also, politely??? Out of character much?

“ . . . he often found himself thinking about things that he’d rather not. His mother. The Wyrm. Shane. Tarik” (31). Shane? Rollan thinks about Shane? This I need to hear . . .

“It was her hand, sliding into his” (32). I forgot how ship-heavy this arc is.

“A warm loaf of bread would be nice, he thought to himself. He was sure that Essix would enjoy it as well” (32). Would she? She’s a carnivore . . .

“‘But I don’t know if I’ll ever really trust a Redcloak’” (33). Rollan trust issues arc rolling around again? Also, thank god they’re talking about this. This is the conversation I’m here for.

“‘For all we know, they might be planning to stab us in the back and steal the gifts as soon as we collect them all’” (33). I mentioned in my Heart of the Land review that they never suspect the Redcloaks of setting up the attack on the Citadel. Guess I spoke too soon.

“‘ . . . that still doesn’t erase all the bad things he did when he was plain old Devin Trunswick. Don’t forget, he and I didn’t exactly hit it off the first time we met’” (34). This entire book sort of parallels Hunted, kind of like how The Return parallels Rise and Fall.

“ . . . as long as he got to hold Meilin’s hand for the rest of the walk. That would have made the extra distance worthwhile” (35). Ship fodder galore. They don’t hold back.

“If Rollan could find them again, he’d buy something for the kids when he reached the village” (37). Aw.

“Rollan wasn’t sure, but it looked like the woman had drawn blood” (37). Bruh.

“Rollan shook his fist at the animal. He still didn’t like horses. The feeling was seemingly mutual” (38). That horse literally laid eyes on him for two seconds.

“‘You’re such a softie,’ she said. ‘It’s one of my favorite things about you’” (39). Okay, I don’t know whether this is an unpopular opinion or not, but I don’t like how Rollan’s generosity was used as fodder for shipping culture.

“Abeke had been collecting rocks to shape into arrowheads during their trek through Eura . . . ” (40). Competent! Abeke!

“Rollan realized that she might have been too good with the weapon” (42). Yeah, lol.

“She followed that up with three backflips. Rollan couldn’t believe it. She was actually dancing” (43). HA.

“‘Or do you not remember the quarterstaff that you swindled from that pirate on the boat?’ ‘I didn’t swindle him’” (44). Rollan berating Meilin for thievery and the sort is so ironic. And why were there pirates???

“‘I was just thinking - that was a really nice sword’” (47). It was indeed.

Chapter 5

“Abeke often found herself looking at Uraza’s hind right leg when she thought the animal was asleep” (49). Imagine Uraza wasn’t asleep and was straight up like, I know what you’re doing.

“‘You move like Uraza, you know. Delicately. Softly. All catlike.’ ‘So do you’” (50). No, he doesn’t??? He makes noise. That was canon. It was mentioned???

“Then she playfully tackled Abeke, nipping at her ears and fingers” (52). I like that this book seems way more of a character and relationship-building book than the other one.

“He performed a triple somersault before landing beside Abeke. She rolled her eyes, but still clapped for him” (53). The guy needs to be coddled.

“‘Did Shane really talk about me?’” (53). Of course he did.

“‘Shane would let us joke around about the Greencloaks, even letting us say some not-so-nice things about Conor and Rollan. Especially Rollan. But you were always off-limits’” (54). But most of the Redcloaks wouldn’t have fought Conor or Rollan personally or even known much about them, right? How would they have anything to insult them over? Also, what about Meilin?

“There was so little that she knew about Shane once he’d become the leader of the Redcloaks” (54). Yeah, I wish The Book of Shane had gone more into his time as leader of the Redcloaks.

“But as Abeke spoke, she realized she didn’t know if Uraza had forgiven her for shooting her with an arrow” (55). I think Uraza probably feels guilty over this. Like Conor.

Worthy apologizing to Elda is peak redemption arc behavior.

“‘I’m excited about going home’” (57). I wonder if Worthy considered telling Abeke about the fire at this moment.

“He took a deep breath. ‘I don’t exactly know-’” (58). Oop, called it.

Chapter 6

“She closed her eyes and counted as others fired all around them” (61). How is she counting with her eyes closed? Maybe she’s analyzing the direction the arrows came from?

“Conor stopped talking, shifting his body so he was turned away from the others” (62). Wow, Conor’s so bad at lying, his solution is to just. Stop talking.

“They were funneling them a certain way. . . . ” (65). There we go. She got it.

“‘The mighty Briggan, caught in a net. Guess you aren’t such a Great Beast after all’” (67). I feel like the disrespect the Great Beasts get in this arc is just so weird. Briggan has been a legend for centuries. Sacred, especially to Eurans. How could that all have been undone over the Wyrm thing? It’s ridiculous and makes no sense. The trapper should have at least been a little in awe.

“‘But the Greencloaks were under the power of something called the Wyrm-’ ‘Just more Greencloak lies’” (69). I don’t get why the trappers didn’t somehow see the spiral. And some Eurans would’ve been infected, too. That means that they should’ve more intimately understood what happened, right?

“It was a signal. Meilin wasn’t sure, but she thought it meant that Rollan wanted her to play along” (71). Have they never been in such a situation before?

Can’t believe Rollan and Meilin form a plan that involves flirting in front of the trackers.

“It was the falchion, the very sword that Meilin had been drooling over at the trading post” (73). At least she won’t have to pay for it now.

“Meilin knew Jhi could hold her own against the men, but she still worried for her partner” (74). Jhi can hold her own against three men with sharp, pointy things?

“But Jhi and Essix didn’t have time to waste on those men . . . Uraza and Briggan joined the fray . . . ” (75). The Four Fallen fight together again. Iconic.

Meilin straight up broke a cage with Jhi’s strength???

“Feeling Jhi’s power coursing through her body once again, she leaped into the air and landed a roundhouse kick squarely on one of the trapper’s jaws. Then she spun around, kicking two more to the ground” (77). Yeah, gettem.

“‘What were you saying about this sword?’ she asked, a large smile on her face” (78). This made me smile. Absolutely slaying.

Chapter 7

“‘Also, I just wanted to say, I'm sorry for your loss,’ he added quietly. ‘How many people survived?’” (81). Conor being soft . . . I’m weak. Also, if the trappers truly believe the Greencloaks were responsible for the plundering, then they would see this as a manipulation tactic, right?

“‘I hated disappointing anyone - even Worthy, when I was his servant . . . ’” (82). It doesn’t really seem that way. Like in Wild Born, the only thing that really appears to stop Conor from expressing his annoyance toward Devin was the fact that Devin was a noble.

“The fence he mended for the Widow Tomball for a few coins - which he promptly returned to her after feeling guilty for taking her money” (82). Didn’t he . . . need that money as well? It’s not like he was the epitome of wealth, either.

“Worthy pressed his hands together and fell to his knees” (83). Dramatic Worthy is the best kind of Worthy.

“He really was too nice sometimes” (83). Conor acknowledging his own being too kind???

“‘Everything’s just fine. Nothing strange happened. Nothing burned down or anything like that’” (84). Wow, Worthy might be an even worse liar than Conor.

“Worthy jumped in the air, waving his fists. ‘Don’t worry guys. Your can depend on me!’” (84). This is almost cartoonish.

“‘Devin!’” (87). Dawson called him Devin?

“ . . . she sat down and began to eat Dawson’s spruce plant” (87). LOL.

“‘Kunaya!’ Abeke said. The cat . . . jumped into Abeke’s outstretched arms” (88). We finally got our iconic Abeke-Kunaya reunion after eleven books.

“‘Devin burned it down the last time he was here.’ . . . ‘ . . . I was having a bad day’” (88). Devin whenever someone asks him about that short story’s events: I was having a bad day, okay???

Also Devin did not burn the castle down??? That was the townspeople??? Karmo literally had to tell him that the manor was on fire.

“‘To be fair, I really did hate Greencloaks at the time. You guys were just so . . . smug. It wasn't fair” (90). Look who’s talking.

“ . . . the citizens chose me as the new Earl of Trunswick” (90). He’s like twelve, though??? There’s seriously nobody else who could’ve done it?

“Dawson was young, but of all the Trunswicks, he was the right person to lead the town” (91). Yes, of all the Trunswicks. Why does it have to be a Trunswick? The best candidate is literally twelve.

“‘With the way father disgraced our family and fled the town, why would they pick any Trunswick to serve as earl? I mean, I’m sure you’ll do the best you can, but you don’t know the first thing about running a city. You’re just a kid’” (91). Worthy hit the nail on the head (and literally in the next paragraph, too . . . ).

“‘You’re a kid, too. You all are. But that doesn’t stop you from doing your duty, does it?’ He relaxed a little as Rumfuss hoofed over to him. ‘And to be honest, I think it has more to do with Rumfuss than my amazing leadership skills. His name carries way more weight than ours right now’” (91). A kid should not be leading the town when there are better-equipped adult candidates around. Worthy became a Redcloak because it was his only choice. The four are on this mission because they were the only ones who escaped. There were no better options for them. There is for Dawson, regardless of his spirit animal. The town could at least have a fill-in until he’s old enough.

“Beside Dawson, the Great Boar snuffled proudly” (91). I feel like this is the ending of Rumfuss’s character arc, in a way. We’re told over the course of the series in so many ways that Rumfuss is often seen as the “least” of the Great Beasts, between Devin’s mockery in Tales of the Fallen Beasts and the Great Beast conference in Tales of the Great Beasts. But now, he finally has the respect he deserves.

“‘Do the townspeople know that I’m a Redcloak?’ There was an air of hope in his voice. ‘Do they know what I did to help save the world?’” (92). Why exactly does Devin want to be a hero so bad? Like, he had a shit ton of wealth and privilege anyway. Why does he feel the need to prove himself? Maybe it’s because the Earl was abusive or something?

“‘I’m not lying!’ Worthy yelled. ‘I really was trying to save a woman! She was in the stocks in the square’” (93). It’s like the boy who cried wolf. I bet Conor would know that story, lol.

“‘Conor, can you ever forgive me for deceiving you like that?’” (94). Dawson didn’t deceive Conor, though? He just . . . delivered a letter? And he was literally ten years old?

Chapter 8

“‘The woman in charge was offering a hefty reward,’ Dawson continued. ‘Enough to feed some families for half a year, if not longer’” (98). How much do we want to bet that Cordelia would not keep that promise.

“‘I mean, Greencloaks and Redcloaks’” (98). Still not over the fact that the Redcloaks literally copied the Greencloaks.

“Everyone knew he’d rather travel with Meilin” (99). Oof. Oooooooof.

“‘Yeah, and if he joins anything, it’ll be the Redcloaks!’ Worthy said” (100). I don’t know why, but Worthy is so comically cartoonish in this book. Also, this implies you can be a Redcloak even if you weren’t a former Bile-bonded Conqueror.

“She leaned over the edge, then curtsied for Abeke” (101). Iconic.

“‘They’d be fools to follow us up here.’ . . . ‘Um, now who exactly are the fools again?’ . . . ‘If it was a bad idea for us, then it’s a horrible idea for them’” (103). Obsessed with this interaction.

“‘Of course, it was always frowned upon if a woman ever wanted to-’” (103). I like how this series doesn’t overdo it with the feminism. It’s just “oh, this is the way things are” and then they use the female characters to defy those stereotypes. It’s done so well.

“Abeke gasped. ‘Meilin!’ Meilin shrugged. ‘What? I didn’t say kill them. Just shoot them in the shoulder or leg or something so they’ll stop chasing us’” (105). I love how casually morally gray the characters are. Even Conor.

“‘Do you yield?’ Meilin asked. ‘Never,’ one of the men said. Then he passed out” (106). LMFAO.

“The other man had regained consciousness” (106). How??? That would mean he passed out for, like, ten seconds.

“‘Their leader, Cordelia the Kind, said she’d destroy the town if she discovered you were here’” (107). So she said she’d destroy it if they were there, but then offered a reward for their capture, as well?

Chapter 9

“ . . . Rollan knew he couldn’t continue traveling with the cloak and hiding it from his friends” (109). Wait, it was a secret??? What??? But they literally saw him fall off the cliff and saw the cloak save him in Heart of the Land, right? Or was it too dark?

“‘The wildcat’s name is Wilco’” (110). Hey, how come the gila monster didn’t get a name?

“‘They lived a long time ago, back before they were even Greencloaks’” (111). Which makes sense timeline-wise, gotta love that. (The four bond tokens and their owners live and eventually give their tokens to their lands → First Devourer War and creation of Greencloaks → The Greencloaks are given the bond tokens as thanks for ending the First Devourer War.)

It makes me wonder why Amaya is called the New Lands, then, because it’s clearly been around for a long time.

It has to mean something that Gransfen’s story started because of the Crimson Raiders, who coincidentally share a color with the Redcloaks.

“‘If these gifts are so powerful, why didn’t the Greencloaks keep them and use them to defend Erdas? . . . ’” (113). Yeah. Exactly.

“‘It’s enchanted. Full of old magic. No one enters that place anymore, not even hunters’” (113). Magic??? Magic exists in this world??? Enchantments??? It’s probably just a legend, Worthy.

“‘But then my men found the strangest item in his bedroom, hidden underneath the floorboards’” (115). Why does the militia have a search warrant for the Earl of Trunswick’s house??? Like, he wasn’t even suspicious before then???

“Rollan didn’t miss a beat. ‘Dawson, you’re a Greencloak! You should have told us-’” (115). Exactly what was Rollan trying to achieve here? The militia already know they are Greencloaks. Was he trying to shift the blame onto Dawson and hope he could talk his way out of it??? It seems weird.

“‘Are these the kids you saw running through the streets?’ ‘Yes, Captain,’ the oldest one said. ‘The two girls. The boy wasn’t with them’” (115). They betrayed them??? (Yes, betray is a strong word, but Meilin and Abeke helped them, and they returned the favor by turning them in.)

“‘Their leader, Cordelia the Kind, threatened to ransack only half the town if we turned you over upon their return’” (116). Bruh.

“‘I’m called Worthy,’ he said. He reached behind his head and unfastened his mask. ‘But before, I was known by another name’” (118). The way this almost perfectly parallels Shane’s reveal is so. I love it. Shane said “I’m called King”, then removed his mask, then revealed that he used to go by another name. Maybe Shane taught the Redcloaks how to dramatically reveal themselves.

“‘We marched to the castle after that and burned it down . . . ’” (118). Yeah, see. Devin didn’t burn it down.

“‘I’m sorry for bringing the cloak with me. I just couldn’t part with it yet’” (119).

“Meilin raised an eyebrow. ‘About everything?’ Rollan could feel the heat rising to his neck” (119). Why’s he blushing??? What’s there to blush about?

Chapter 10

“”But Meilin reminded herself that the people of Trunswick had much to lose as well if the Greencloaks weren’t successful” (121). True . . . ish.

The iconic Rollan-horse rivalry strikes again.

“ . . . Meilin noticed that the flags flying above the city walls displayed the image of Rumfuss the Boar” (121). Not Briggan?

“”’But this isn’t really my home anymore” (122). Devin Trunswick changing his name to Worthy symbolism for him abandoning Trunswick?

“‘Dawson was right - the old Devin Trunswick was a real bully . . . ’” (122). I like that they don’t make his bad deeds seem lesser now that he’s good.

“Meilin blocked each strike, then leaped onto a tree branch, out of reach of Anka’s staff” (124). She just . . . jumped onto a tree???

“Smirking, she began to run in a circle, dragging her boots heels into the dry ground. She was creating a small dust storm” (125). This is almost the exact same tactic she uses when she fights Anka again later.

“‘I’m glad fate brought us together, Meilin. You’re almost like the sister I never had’” (125). I wonder if she said those exact words to Song.

“‘At least, that’s what my tutors used to tell me when I misbehaved’” (127). That reminds me, what happened to the iconic Rollan-Meilin tutor inside joke?

“‘Knowing the Greencloaks, they could have started the rumor about the forest being enchanted’” (127). Oh, thank goodness it isn’t actually enchanted. Thirteen books in is a little late to introduce new lore.

“‘My kids would love to hear more about your adventures’” (127). Worthy’s hero arc peaks.

“ . . . for the first time on their journey, he wasn’t wearing his mask” (127). Huh.

“Meilin didn’t want to agree with Rollan, but he was right” (128). Will Meilin’s first instinct always be to argue with Rollan?

“They kept moving, walking through lunchtime” (129). Worthy didn’t complain about being hungry: character development?

“Meilin shrugged. ‘We wait. And hope that the tree outlasts the bears’” (133). I’m obsessed with Meilin being the one to suggest waiting. Not that there’s a better option.

Chapter 11

“Worthy only tripped twice. Conor took this as a positive” (135). I love how Conor is haggling (in his head) about Worthy’s clumsiness.

“‘Some rumors say that the black wildcat breathed fire when she was really mad,’ Worthy said. ‘When she hissed and spat, she’d be liable start forest fires. Maybe some of that heat is still around.’ Meilin rolled her eyes. ‘Or more likely, we’re close to a geyser or fault line that keeps that area warm’” (137). The grammar is killing me. Also, gotta love how Worthy loves to exaggerate the wildcat tales. At the end of the day, she was just a normal spirit animal, she was just bonded to a hero.

“Meilin hesitated after removing her pack, almost as if she was going to pull something from it, but left it on the ground with the others” (138). Rollan’s cloak, right?

“With his red cloak billowing behind him, he almost looked like he was flying as he dove into the water” (140). WEEEEEEEEEEE.

“‘Worthy, that was amazing!’ Conor said, kneeling beside his friend. Worthy had a few scratches, but otherwise seemed okay. ‘I can’t believe you did that!’” (141). Awwwww. He called Worthy his friend.

“She pulled out his green cloak” (142). Ha, called it.

Chapter 12

“Worthy had no idea why he leaped off the cliff to save Rollan” (143). Uh, because it was the right thing to do? Because Rollan’s part of the group?

“Prior to joining the Redcloaks, he’d always had trouble making friends” (143). Because he was a bully???

“The gyrfalcon squawked a reply. Rollan nodded” (145). I guess spirit animals and humans don’t have to be able to “speak” to one another to communicate?

“Meilin was the finest warrior he’d ever met. How could someone so ferocious be afraid of spiders?” (146). PTSD. Also, Devin canonically used to be scared of spiders.

“‘The closest I’ve come is: Each day must end, but the mighty shall rise again under a volcano’s roar.’” (148). Imagine if Worthy was wrong, though. Or only partially correct.

“‘And on the boat . . . Worthy said the wildcat’s roar was as loud as an erupting volcano.’ . . . ‘Volcanoes also spew lava when they erupt,’ Meilin said. ‘Fire. Heat.’” (150). Obsessed with the fact that Meilin figured this out pretty much on her own.

“Gransfen and Wilco had been the protectors of an entire land. He was just a kid in a white mask and red cloak trying to make up for his past mistakes” (152). His redemption arc is almost as good as Shane’s.

“Is this the Great Briggan? And Uraza and Jhi? He looked up at the nook in the ceiling where Essix rested. This is most unexpected” (154). Yeah, following the timeline, when Gransfen died, the Four Fallen would have still been literal Great Beasts. Also, at least this time, we’re getting a solid explanation for why Gransfen is willing to give them the bond token.

“He puffed his chest out and placed his hands on his hips” (154). Worthy trying to look heroic even as he talks to a hero is funny.

“Bond tokens are powerful, but also deadly when placed into the wrong hands” (155). Okay, at least we get a solid explanation for why the Greencloaks hid them, then.

“There were men who used distrust and division to turn leaders into sheep . . . They would channel rage and anger into weapons of destruction and death” (155). This is shockingly similar to what Kikimi said. She also used “d-words” such as death and distrust.

“Instead, she instructed me to create one of my own. My bond token, like her crystal bear talisman, would amplify Wilco’s powers” (156). This makes me wonder whether bond tokens and talismans are the same thing. The only difference is that talismans can only be used by the Marked and bond tokens can be used by anybody, but what if the Great Beasts used to be bonded to humans even before the First Devourer War? What if that’s how they got talismans in the first place (bond tokens, actually) and then when their human partners died and they became Great Beasts again, they swore to look after their bond tokens for all eternity? This theory doesn’t make a whole lot of sense, but . . .

“‘The Greencloaks have always been secretive about information they consider dangerous,’ Anka reminded them. ‘Like the source of the bonding Nectar and the location of Stetriol.’ She ran a small finger along her chameleon’s bumpy back. ‘Perhaps that’s why the nations lost their faith in them’” (158). Anka showing signs of being a traitor already. Not that these aren’t valid criticisms.

“‘Maybe that’s why the Great Beasts were so protective of their talismans,’ Rollan said. ‘I would be, too, if I knew someone could come along and smash it, wiping me from existence’” (159). We get a solid explanation for that, finally. Also, it kind of makes sense that the Great Beasts, in all their power, should have a weakness.

“‘But as long as there’s complete trust between you and the animal-’ ‘We should move out’ Meilin said, rising” (160). Meilin being the one to interrupt . . . hm.

Chapter 13

“‘Perhaps I should take the gifts,’ Anka whispered to Conor and Rollan” (162). Wow, I completely forgot about this. She really is suspicious.

“‘Meilin, honesty is a currency that doesn’t have to be spent all in one place,’ Rollan said” (162). Why is this such a Rollan thing to say. Like even without context, it just drips Rollan. I don’t know how to explain it.

“Spirit animals rushed in with them” (163). I feel like this arc completely undermines how rare spirit animals are supposed to be. An army of this size should not all have spirit animals. Besides the Greencloaks, of course.

“‘No, more like I bit it,’ Worthy said, as he spat out a few yellow-green scales” (164). Worthy bit a snake. A snake. Which he refused to eat at the campsite. Hmmmmm . . . symbolism???

“A woman with a ruby-red sword rushed toward Anka. The woman’s brown braided hair flopped behind her as she ran” (165). Cordelia. Okay, so she’s not going to hurt Anka.

“‘Put down your weapons,’ the woman said, moving her blade closer to Anka’s throat. ‘This battle is over’” (166). Okay, so Anka must have been knocked down on purpose on her part so that Cordelia could fake-threaten her.

Chapter 14

“ . . . she thought she saw the glint of a silver bade right before the red cloak fell over it” (168). Indeed, she did.

“‘I could add you to my collection. Or perhaps I’ll make you my pet’” (168). Cordelia has a collection? Of what?

“‘ . . . I only burned the homes of half those trappers. I’d threatened to destroy all their belongings if they failed me. Again, my kindness has no bounds’” (169). She says, after literally describing a boundary of her kindness. At least she doesn’t actually appear to think she’s genuinely kind.

“It only lasted a moment, but Anka’s eyes flashed to the ground, toward Worthy’s feet” (170). She almost certainly did that on purpose.

“She stopped. Worthy’s red cloak was draped across his arm. He held the Wildcat’s Claw in his other hand” (172). That was actually a neat stunt.

“ . . . fire spewed from the jewel like a geyser turned on its side . . . ” (172). There’s no way the wildcat actually breathed fire. What???

“Abeke picked up Cordelia’s abandoned crossbow. Not as good as a bow, but it would do” (173). Abeke canonically thinks that crossbows are inferior to bows.

“‘I’ll hold them off for as long as I can. Try to buy you some time’” (175). And Worthy becomes a hero.

“This time the entire sword glowed. The steel blade had turned shiny blue. ‘Tell Dawson I was a hero!’” (176). Worthy finally getting his priorities in order. He only cares about what Dawson thinks now, instead of everybody.

“‘Knowing Worthy, he’s probably already out, hiding in the trees. Just waiting for the perfect opportunity to reveal himself’” (180). She’s not wrong.

“Abeke couldn’t see Anka, but she was sure that she was crying, too” (180). I wouldn’t be so sure.

“‘Kovo, the Great Betrayer’” (181). Well, to be fair, he sort of did make up for that.

This book sort of parallels Hunted. In many ways, but in particular, in both books they don’t actually end up retrieving the item they came for (the Iron Boar, the Wildcat’s Claw). Very interesting.

Also, wow, does this author favor long chapters. The book is only fourteen chapters, but it's just as long as any other book in the series.

Final thoughts and rating:

I love this book. It’s definitely a character and relationship-developing book, as I mentioned, but it never feels like it slows the story down. Despite taking time to show characters’ thoughts on certain things (like Rollan’s thoughts on the Redcloaks and Abeke’s thoughts on Shane), it never sacrifices the plot for that. I like Worthy a lot in this book. His perspective is crucial to his arc and I love how it’s shown that despite his external arrogance and generally dramatic demeanor, he really does acknowledge his mistakes. Abeke’s thoughts on Shane and admitting to herself that it may do her good to talk about it was. I simply melted. When Worthy talked about how Shane taught the Redcloaks to be a team, it really brings Shane’s arc full circle, because it’s shown in many ways that when he was the Devourer, he did not care about his own soldiers at all. Rollan not trusting the Redcloaks works well with his background, and although it feels a bit like we’ve regressed in terms of his arc, it did feel realistic. Worthy sacrificing himself for the team made me soft, he truly became the hero he’d always wanted to be. The parallels to Hunted. I adore them. The way the entire book sort of mirrors Hunted, except now Conor and Worthy are on the same side? I love it. It’s another way Worthy is emphasized to have changed. I also love how Rollan used his wits to find a way to break out of the cage in the trappers scene. We need more of that. I also like how it’s implied that Anka genuinely cares about Meilin and she subtly tries to convince her that the Greencloaks are not good. It’s so genuinely chilling to reread that and see how manipulative what she says really is.

I wish Princess Song had a chapter in this book. I don’t even think she was mentioned. I wish this arc had kept up the trend of having a couple of chapters of Song’s perspective in every book, it would’ve simply been so good. We could’ve seen her spiral and lose her mind while keeping up this pristine image! We could’ve had little Easter eggs that make us feel something is off about her! It would’ve been such amazing foreshadowing! But we didn’t get it. While I like that Worthy sacrificed himself, I don’t like how he sacrificed himself. He chops off a chunk of stone, causing a collapse that falls on him as well as the Oathbound. But that’s so stupid! All he had to do was escape out of the cave and then cut through the walls on the cave to collapse it on just the Oathbound. Then he could’ve escaped through the waterfall with Abeke and the Wildcat’s Claw. Worthy’s sacrifice was necessary to the story, I agree, but holy shit, was the execution the dumbest thing ever. While I understand the parallels to Hunted and losing the bond token, I do wish the token had made it out. I wish the gang had learned to use it, especially Conor. It would’ve been so cool. Because the token is a flashy thing! It can set fire and slice through stone, both of which would leave visible marks that the Oathbound could use to track them! So the bond token would come with disadvantages that would balance the positives and I love that! It would’ve been so cool to explore.

Rating: 9/10

#draeyem rereads spirit animals #the wildcat's claw #spirit animals series #spirit animals books #spirit animals #spirit animals thoughts

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cjwritesforyou · 8 months ago

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College Freshman Chapter 8

Welcome back to this daily rom-com series

Posting around 1EST

A bad morning for someone~

Angelina walked into class and sat down. The first one there, of course. She got her stuff out and watched everyone file in. Molly came in and she said her good mornings. Angie really wanted to focus on the lecture, and couldn’t wait for it to start.

Then the door swung open with a familiar thud. It was Thomas–he was on time for class. She almost forgot about him, but when she saw his shining eyes, she couldn’t forget.

He waved to her and she blushed on the inside a little. She could already see Molly’s eyes but she didn’t care. She waved back and Thomas smiled. She blushed even harder as he walked by. Angie got her pen out to distract herself, and he found a seat. She could hear the noise behind her clearly. She wacked Molly’s desk without looking but Molly only laughed harder. Angie tried to focus on the front, but now she had a bunch of racing thoughts. Thomas was on her mind.

The professor walked in with a weird look on his face.

Different, Angie thought.

He put his briefcase down and logged into the computer. He hadn’t said a word yet. He always says something.

He went in front of the class and looked out. The professor rubbed his spectacles a little and looked frustrated.

Someone had a bad morning, Angie thought.

“You have a quiz next class,” the professor said.

“We do?” a few students groaned.

He hadn’t given a quiz the whole year yet. It had to have been a bad morning. The professor paced back to his lectern.

“Next class–we’ll do a quick quiz and then I’ll lecture. Today will be shorter,” the professor said in monotone.

He started lecture and stayed in monotone for a while. Everyone was used to it, and she was taking notes, too. That was good. They were getting into the groove of things, but the professor was moving quickly. He wanted to leave.

“That’s everything,” the professor said.

A few students cheered for getting out a few minutes early. Some didn’t care at all because they had class after. Her included.

“Buh-bye,” the professor said.

The professor logged off the computer and was the first one out of class. He usually isn’t.

A really, really bad morning, Angie thought.

Everyone got up and started packing their bags to leave. It was louder with the chit-chatter, but Angie didn’t mind. She had some time to study now.

A few people were leaving as Angelina put her pens away with her notes. A boy stopped at her table, one she recognized.

“Hey Angelina,” Thomas said.

“Hey Thomas,” Angelina said.

She wasn’t as nervous around him. It had been enough time, and she got comfortable speaking to him. It was also a weird morning, too. Her thoughts weren’t all on Thomas.

“We have a quiz next class,” Thomas said.

“We do, I’m excited to beat you,” Angelina said.

“Beat me?”

“That’s the goal.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I definitely have to do that.”

“Maybe you can find some of my weaknesses then.”

“What are you implying?”

“I’m implying…”

“You’re implying?”

“That we study,” Thomas said.

She stopped and forgot everything. There were no other thoughts going through her head.

“Do you even need to study?” Angelina asked.

“We have a quiz coming up,” Thomas said.

“I want to beat you out though.”

“It’ll be fun.”

“It will be fun.”

Thomas perked up a smile and looked her over. She didn’t mind it though.

“Like last time,” Thomas said.

“Productive,” Angelina said.

“Yes. Very, very productive.

Thomas turned his smile into a laugh and she couldn’t help laughing. Angie was having too much fun with him.

“Same time, same place?” Thomas asked.

“That works for me,” Angelina said.

“Great. Then, I’ll see you there.”

“I’ll see you there.”

Thomas waved and left the classroom. Angelina waved back and Molly waited until the doorknob closed to erupt.

“I will see you there!” Molly said.

“You better not,” Angelina said.

“We’ll have to see.”

Molly smirked and they left the classroom laughing. Laughing like usual.

“You can be more forward with your boyfriend,” Molly said.

“Not my boyfriend!” Angie said.

“Studying is cool and all.”

“It is cool. It’s the best.”

“I didn’t need to hear that,” Molly smiled and continued. “You can do more than just study though. Take him out. Go eat. Go do something.”

“I can ask that?”

“Of course you can ask that. He would love to hear that.”

“He would?”

“Yes he would,” Molly said. “Just don’t ask him without me knowing.”

“I have to tell someone!” Angie said. “Where would we even go though.”

“Somewhere. You don’t know a ton about him, do you?”

“I don’t.”

“Start with that. Then work your way up.”

“Don’t you know everything?”

“You’d be surprised. I’ve been through a lot.”

“A lot that I don’t know?”

“Oh yeah girl.”

“But I need to tell you everything?”

“No, you have to. That’s law.”

Both the girls laughed and walked into Biology a little early today. When Angie saw the door handle she couldn’t help but pause and think.

How can she learn more about him? Angie wondered.

She sat down and thought. Angie couldn’t take her mind off it. It was only natural, after all.

#cjwritesforyou #creative writing #reading #writing #rom com #romance #comedy

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emiliosandozsequence · 1 year ago

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i stole this lol but it seemed fun so <3

What was your first ever story idea? What happened to it? it was a fantasy novel about an elf girl. i've never read a book where the main character is an elf, so i decided to write one myself. i did actually end up writing it; it was the first novel i ever wrote and i was 14 when i did it (still proud of that; it was 230 pgs in a word document btw). anyway, i ended up losing access to the manuscript, so rip, but i'm fully intending to rewrite it someday and make it a lot better than it was when i was writing it at 14.

What’s your writing routine? usually i'll put on music and just start writing whatever comes to mind for whatever scene i'm trying to write at the time. whenever i can't figure out what to do next, i'll go on tumblr and scroll for a bit until it comes to me. it's pretty effective, though my editor literally thinks i'm doing nothing all day bc of this even tho i Promise him i'm Working On It 😭😭😭

Are you a plotter, a pantser, or something in between? in between for sure. i plan things as i go. i start with an overall idea and then just...start writing and plan for the next chapters as they come to me. with the novel i'm currently writing, i've only planned up through chapter 8 and i'm currently writing chapter 4. i used to plan everything, but for some reason that made it so much harder for me to actually write the novels, so i don't do that anymore.

Do you try to tell moral stories throughout your work, or any other life lessons? What are they? there was a time where i did that, but the older i've gotten, the more i've realized a solid plot is a lot more important than telling any moral story. whether you like it or not, people are going to remember your book for the story you tell, not the reason you're telling it, and as a reader, i tend to go for stories with more solid plots than morals anyway.

What do you prefer, character development or worldbuilding? Why? both?? idk they both come very easily to me. to the point that there's been times where i think i haven't done enough of either and people have read my work and told me the opposite. i guess worldbuilding is more fun, but it's harder, which i think is probably why i like it more than character development bc that comes even easier to me than worldbuilding.

Do you have any tips for budding writers? i'll tell you exactly what my editor told me in the first class of his i took when i was 12: write like a shark. whatever you're writing, write it until it's done. go back and edit later. i've learned you can do a little bit of editing as you go once you've finished a few novels because then you know you can do it (speaking from experience; i've finished 7 and self-published 2 and am working on my 8th), but if you're new to writing and you haven't finished a book yet, don't do it. you will get caught up in it otherwise. especially if you have adhd (like i do).

Who inspires you to write the most? at the moment?? probably tamsyn muir. we have a shocking amount in common (our birthday's are literally a single day apart, though she's older than me by several years) and her books are exactly the kind of books i want to write. but also mary doria russell (duh) because we have very similar writing styles; ellen hopkins because she really was who really taught me (through me reading her books) how to write emotional stuff really well; brandon sanderson bc nothing is ever going to beat how i felt at the ending of the mistborn trilogy; and marie lu because her characters from the legend trilogy live in my mind rent free still and i can't help thinking of day every time i create a new boy.

tagging @thinking-in-broken-scenes @naysaltysalmon @the-lisechen and anyone else that wants to!! i just tagged people i know are also writers <3

#txt

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paganwitchisis · 5 months ago

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Chapter 8 "What Love Can Change"

Chapter Eight: Honeymoon Hiccup

Rated: E for Explicit!!

Pairing: AFAB Female Tav/Spawn Astarion

Words: 6,491

TRIGGER WARNING -Breeding kink, violence, descriptions of trauma, sexual assault, torture, suicide attempt and mention/idealization, self harm, starvation, depression, pregnancy, hyper-sexuality, and rape.

Chapter 8 is here

AO3 link is here

*There is a good amount of smut in this chapter*

Astarion hesitated for a moment, but he nodded. He grabbed the lubrication and handed her it, before grabbing a towel to put under him just in case anything got on the white linen. He propped some pillows behind him, and spread his legs. Astarion rarely let himself be this open or vulnerable with others, but he wanted to break free of other people having influence over his life and body. Only one person had that kind of power, and that was because he gave it to her. As scary as that sounded, he loved her, and she hasn’t let him down yet. Tav took some lube, and placed it on the outside of the muscle, Astarion's legs now drawn up and spread wide to give her an open view of everything between his legs. She could see his cock, balls, the taint and his asshole perfectly. It made her a bit turned on, to be honest, or maybe it was all the potions in her. Tav had filled a bucket with some water, some soap, and a used rag to clean herself and him down after the act, and placed it next to the bed. She expected a mess just in case. Astarion wanted to close his eyes, but just like Tav in the beginning, he couldn’t. He needed them kept open. He breathed steadily as Tav gave him words of encouragement and asked him numerous times if he was sure and told him he could back out at any time. Astarion chose ‘Withers’ as his code word as well since he couldn’t think of a better word in case it became too much. Tav kissed him before pulling back and applying a very generous amount of lube on her fingers. She started coating his asshole with it and the inside of it. She worked the first muscle layer slowly and lovingly. She kept watch on Astarion’s face to ensure he was okay the entire time. He seemed okay, but she knew that based on what she felt with the ring, he was terrified. The work she was doing felt good, though, and he even moaned once.

Tav started to work on the second ring as she only focused on his pleasure. She tried to distract him from his fears by stroking his flaccid cock with her other hand. It didn’t take long for it to spring to life. Astarion felt guilty for moaning but Tav reminded him this was about taking control of his pleasure. He needed to not feel guilt anymore if he wanted this to be successful. Astarion realized she was right. Tav squirted more lube inside the man as she leaned down and took her husband’s cock into the sweet hot caress of her mouth. Astarion gripped the sheets in his hands and spread his legs some more.

Tav pulled back to speak.

“I’m past the main muscles, by the feel of it. I’m going to search for the G-spot. If I hurt you, tell me, and I will stop right away.”

Astarion nodded his head.

“So far, you actually feel pretty good. Thank you, dear, for doing this. I owe you big. Once I’m done and we clean up, I’m going to make you come so damn hard that it’ll knock you out.” Astarion promised.

Tav smiled as she kept giving him her fingers and mouth. She turned her hand and started stroking the direction Astarion said to stroke. At first, they hit nothing so she used her other hand to massage the perineum in between the balls and the backside. It started as a spark that jolted him and made Tav think she had hurt the man. Instead, it was a sheer jolt of pleasure. Astarion whined, asking for his cock and G-spot be stimulated simultaneously. Tav smiled and complied all too eagerly. She applied more lube to make sure there was more than enough lubrication for her actions and began to work both harder and faster than before. Astarion closed his eyes and threw his head back, fully trusting his wife with the matter at hand. Astarion began moaning audibly, placing his hand on Tav’s head and gliding her as she bobbed on his hard-on, her hands now stroking vigorously the spot that contained his nerve cluster within his back entrance. She had finally figured out where it was of her own accord and paid close attention to his reactions. The elf spread his legs wider than he had before which let Tav move her free hand move from his taint to the base of his cock as she stroked him. It took only a few minutes before Astarion came loudly, something he rarely did in its own right, his hand pushing Tav’s head down on his cock to drink him in. He didn’t push down hard, of course, and she could pull away if she liked, but she would never do that. Astarion looked down as he saw Tav grin with his manhood in her mouth, pulsating and throbbing as he emptied himself down her throat and she swallowed his essence. By the Gods, Astarion loved this woman.

Astarion leaned back to give her more room as she pulled her fingers free. Astarion was too embarrassed to look as Tav cleaned herself down, shame whittling at himself for what he asked her to do and what she was probably cleaning up at the moment. His thoughts were briefly interrupted by a cold clean rag being dragged down the crack of his ass to the used muscle saturated in lubrication. Astarion yelped in surprise as Tav giggled, bringing the rag across his back end to clean him up the best she could.

“I’m so sorry for asking you to do that.” Astarion still refused to look at Tav in the eye who placed her hands on her hips slightly irritated. She had already long since cleaned up after the act and leaned forward to turn his head to look at her.

“Why are you apologizing? You were going to do that to me, weren’t you? You wanted to overcome what Cazador did to you, and I volunteered to do this. I love you. Please don’t apologize for pleasure. If it makes you feel good, then I am happy.”

“How…how are you cleaned up so fast?” Astarion sat up, perplexed.

Tav chortled “There wasn’t really a mess to begin with. Probably has something to do with your liquid diet,” She leaned forward and kissed the man chastely. “How did that feel?”

“It was…different…incredible, even? I…I sound foolish for wanting to suggest this, but…” Astarion looked back away from Tav who shook her head against his bashfulness on this subject. For someone who was essentially a god of sex (even if she would never tell him that, and they mutually disliked how his body was used for such things against his free will) and had no problems talking about sex only a few weeks after meeting each other back then, she was surprised he was so concerned and shy all of a sudden.

Tav shifted herself to be on the side of him so he was again looking at her at this angle instead of looking away. “Whatever you want, I am yours.” Tav kissed his forehead and Astarion smiled weakly. He looked up and lightly pushed her back against the pillows before crawling over her.

“I want us to work our way up to something. I…I don’t want to be limited on how I express my body. I want to make love to you and have you make love to me, but to do that, well….we’d have to experiment more often like that.”

Tav racked her fingernails lightly over the cool flesh of Astarion's hard chiseled chest and leaned up to take his lips. Astarion leaned down to pursue this, but Tav pulled away, confusing the man.

“I am more than happy to experiment in any way you want in the bedroom. I liked doing that to you, you know. I love making you feel good and I really liked hearing you moan. You don’t do that enough.”

Astarion sadly made a noise between a laugh and a scoff before replying. “…Two hundred years of conditioning, my love. Just more barriers you’re breaking down.”

Astarion shook his head and began to kiss the woman's neck and lips with extraordinary passion. He pulled back to murmur against her lips.

“Now, if you don’t mind, I believe I have a promise to keep.”

All the heat Tav had in her body seemed to drain to the junction between her legs at this point. Astarion began kissing her down her throat, his eyes closed as he enjoyed the sensations of her warm and soft skin. He dragged his fang across her collarbone, kissing her skin lovingly, his hands cupped her groin and her breast. Astarion pulled back, surprised, as he pulled his hand back from between her legs to find she was positively soaked. Tav blushed slightly ashamed and Astarion gave a lewd smile.

“What’s wrong, my sweet?” Astarion asked as he returned his hand but instead of cupping her again he took two middle fingers and slipped them inside easily, Tav moving up the bed as she tilted her head back. What he did felt wonderful, but she remembered he had asked her a question.

“I’m…very wet for you. It’s kind of embarrassing.”

Astarion shook his head ‘no’, and replied before leaning forward over her again. “How is it embarrassing? To show me how much you want me? Relax, and enjoy. Let me worship you.”

Astarion began to kiss and take in her breasts with his mouth and play with them. He was so well trained, thanks to Cazador, that it was difficult not to fall into old habits. Instead, he focused on worshiping her body. He spent a good half an hour kissing every expanse of skin he could find, delving his tongue into her mouth and pressing his soft lips against her moist warm ones and working her with a minimal contact as possible to make her want to grind and rub against anything it can as she rutted against the air, wishing for and begging for sweet relief. The night had long fallen and Astarion could hardly believe it. Had they really spent their entire honeymoon so far making love and that was it? And when their bodies said ‘Stop, no more! We can’t take it!’ they just uncorked some potions and kept on at it?

Astarion pulled back and pulled his hand free from her moist entrance.

“Please! If you won’t fuck me, let me take care of myself!” she pleaded and begged as she squirmed on the bed in front of him.

“Your libido will kill me one day. I don’t know any being that can keep up with you.” Astarion joked under his breath and away from her hearing, but before he could go further and give her relief, it was then that he saw it. Hot streaks of tears on her face as she was reduced to crying.

It was then that Astarion knew he went too far and held out too long. He promised to make her feel good, especially after what she did for him, and this is what he did to repay her? No.

Astarion got very upset at himself and he refused to let her beg much longer.

Astarion promptly got up and went to the dresser drawer and decided she needed relief and pleasure

in speeds he couldn’t give her physically. Normally, he would want to deliver her the passion and care she deserved, but he messed up and did something reprehensible in his eyes. He played with her emotions and her desires, he felt disgusted. Like he was no better than Cazador at that moment. He grabbed a few things from the drawers and returned to the woman whose begging broke his heart.

“I’m so sorry, my love. I’m going to fix this. It will be okay. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Astarion couldn’t stop his apology as he positioned her on the bed but before he could act on his plan, Tav sat up and took his lips to her, drinking him in deeply. She moaned and brought her hand up to his cock.

Astarion pulled away gingerly as he gently disconnected her grip on his manhood. “I have something better. It will make you come more, faster, and harder too. Just trust me on everything I do. Some things will be new. Please, just trust me.”

“Don’t apologize. It’s okay, just please!” She raised her hips again in a bid for relief. Astarion was going to get everything set up to give her what she deserved, but in that moment, with her strong desire and the aroma of her need, her drenched maidenhood just in front of him, he dove down and drank her pussy deep. Tav almost screamed in pleasure. Astarion could feel everything clearly through the rings as if his own body was afflicted and it was surreal. Never had he felt such things where he could feel the pleasure he gave his partner as if he was receiving it himself. He knew, and she could tell. It wasn’t enough, nowhere close to enough.

Astarion’s hand flew to his tool. he found it already hard and waiting, and he slid in with extreme ease. She began thrusting herself on him immediately, and it was like nothing he did was enough. It never would be. He got her going and lusting for over an hour. He gave her potions to enhance her lust and not just one swig but twice. He made her wait to get relief until he had his, and although he promised to make her world burst with different color stars of intense rapture, he failed. He again made her wait. He played with her. Yes, he worshipped her body, but this was not the time nor place. She needed help and he was oblivious to her problem. Astarion felt very ashamed.

Astarion was ramming into her wonderful womanhood while setting up the toys he planned to work on her. With a swift action, he placed the first toy he used on her. The toy that used wind to suck on her clit back on her as she pressed her body as far as possible into the bed, her breathy moans were loud and demanding.

“Gods, I love you, Astarion. More! Please!”

Astarion pulled out and gave her the second toy he also had used on her, the vibrator. Both toys were on and placed fully where they intended to go. Astarion moved her hand from clutching the sheets to holding the toy on her clit as he brought her other hand to holding the side of her labia open which exposed the side of the clit and a particular sensitive nerve cluster, something that usually didn’t get much attention on its own. He angled the toy and he knew he hit it right when she almost doubled over in pleasure, she no longer screamed in passion but was silent. Her muscular abs (which he suspected would be hidden or go away soon due to the baby) were clenched rigidly. He began to move the vibrator within her with a purpose, and then, taking quick breaks from moving the toy, he moved some of the items from before (the towel, for example) to where she was and placed a little lube on his one finger. He was an expert on doing this to others, and knew how to make her enjoy it, but considering how new she was to this experience, he felt it was best to use one finger. He would do for her what she had done for himself. He lightly brushed up against the puckered muscle, which startled Tav, but with everything going on, she merely eyed him suspiciously as he inserted the finger within her. Tav jumped a little at the cold finger, but soon, with a lot of lube, Astarion had found the spot, and Tav had let go of her outer lip, grabbed a pillow, and shoved it on her face as she screamed out in orgasm. Astarion let her ride out her orgasm before he removed his finger, and the toys, and began cleaning up. He cleaned up himself first with his hands, and then the toys, as he kept turning to watch her chest rise and fall with her panting breaths. Astarion dried off the toys, tossed them and all the vials in the drawer, and checked on Tav, who was out cold. Astarion, at first, was afraid, and went to check her, but she mumbled something or another about cheese and rolled over. Astarion weakly smiled, grabbed a cloth, and clean warm water, and wiped her down before tucking her in. He changed what items and clothes he could, cleaned up the room, and threw on his armor, underwear, pants, and boots, before getting everything on as if he was going into a fight. Hopefully not, but just in case nowadays.

Astarion sat down at the chair and desk and sighed, hating himself and full of loathing. He began to write a letter with the paper and ink provided. After about half an hour, Astarion folded the paper into a goose, the only paper animal he knew how to create, and placed it on his pillow. Astarion sat on the edge of the pillow and using his thumb, he would roll his wedding ring between his finger in fear and shame, but kept it on. Astarion got up, grabbed a bedroll and his pack, and unlocked the door. He went to turn and leave, when he grabbed something out of his pack and left it on the pillow next to his letter.

Tav awoke in the middle of the night to a horrible nightmare that would not go away. Tav frowned as it was the same as usual. It was of her rapist, and so she turned to snuggle up with Astarion, when she realized his side of the bed was empty. Startled, Tav opened her eyes, and in a panic, her eyes darted around to look for her vampire. She noted the fire was roaring and alive, something that was not lit when she fell asleep, but no matter where she looked, he was not there! Tav searched through the rings, but realized he was too far away, which meant he was no longer at the Elfsong Tavern. Scared, Tav went to go get her armor so she could track her husband down, unsure and scared for the situation, when she spotted a origami goose, and a well used blanket on the pillow beside the one she slept on.

She recognized the blanket. It was Astarion’s blanket he always had with him. She wasn’t sure the origins of this comfort item except that he always had it, be it in his tent or in his bunk. He kept hold of it. She never asked more about it and it even smelled like him. Getting such a thing did not bode well so with haste, she opened the letter and read his flowing script. She grew pale and grabbed the blanket, threw it into her pack and rushed to get dressed before gathering her allies. She burst through the door while strapping her armor on, one boot still clenched between her teeth as she began to hurriedly explain while she got the boot on after the armor, her weapons already affixed to her back. The others, realizing it was in fact an emergency and that Astarion was nowhere to be seen, also got ready within record speed.

Tav apprised them of what was going on. He left a note because he felt like something of Cazador had been left behind inside of him and he didn’t want to hurt her. He promised to return (which is why he left his blanket, as a promise and a sign he meant to come back to her) but he never said when in the letter. The fact he still had his ring and didn’t leave it behind made Tav feel better about the situation, but she was worried all the same. Of course, she never mentioned to the group why he felt the way he did, about what had happened a few hours ago, and Tav couldn’t figure out where he would go! If he went downstairs to where he was feeding, she would still be able to sense him, but instead, she felt nothing. She felt alone.

Tav jumped when Karlach placed a hand on her shoulder, jostling her from her own thoughts as the group began to get ready to hunt for the wayward vampire…That is until Minsc, the most unlikely of all the friends, chimed in and spoke up.

“Uh…Boo says that he knows where Astarion has fled to!” Minsc listened to the squeaking rodent “They what?! How long were you watching them? Oh…I can see why he ran off! Thanks Boo!”

Minsc looked at Tav who was red with blush and fearful of what the hamster disclosed to the ranger.

“Boo said he was after her cheese. You see, she had the last of his favorite kind, you know! He told me you two were having a fun time, although Boo wont tell Minsc what that means.” Tav was sitting down in the chair near the door at this point and dropped her face into her hands in shame “He said that he felt terrible over not paying attention to you enough! Boo followed the pale one when he left and says he is by the beach in the lower city. Behind the house Carrion's servant’s hid in. Boo never did get that cheese, though…”

Tav stood up and turned to leave when Karlach stopped her.

“You can’t go after him without backup. I’m coming with you.” Karlach stated. She didn’t ask.

“But…”

“Do you think he will be happy to see his pregnant wife running around the lower city alone? You think that will make your case any better? I already helped him before during your honeymoon, it will be okay.” Karlach rationalized, even though Tav had no idea how Karlach helped her husband. She figured she could ask her later, or even Astarion, if she could manage to find him.

Tav nodded, and both the girls left the room to head to the Heapside Strand Wayshrine. Tav rejected having the others come with aside from Karlach. She didn’t want to embarrass the vampire and felt this was a private issue. The girls went down the three flights of stairs towards Thrumbo’s old hideout. At this point, Tav was out of breath from rushing, not taking care of herself after all the exertion her body had been through the last few days, and the little one on board. She was sweating and slightly dizzy, but she dare not say anything to Karlach. She reached the house and went to the right side of it where the pier was, and upon getting to the end, she looked left where the wooden docks extended, and there, under the moonlight, was a curled up body on the wooden planks facing the stone back of the house. Tav would know anywhere who that was, the rings springing to life and granting confirmation. The fact that the person didn’t stir or react made her worry, and she went to him with Karlach close at hand. There, under the dim light, she could make out his pained expression, and Tav quickly went to his aid. She kneeled down and lightly rocked his shoulder. When that didn’t work and Tav was fearful of trying anything harder in case of startling the man, Tav leaned forward and kissed his cold cheek. She pressed into him and wrapped her arms lightly around his shoulders as his eyes fluttered open.

“No! Stop, Caza…Wha? What?” Astarion blinked back and began turning to sit up, Tav backing up to give him space to do so. Karlach started to walk away to give the two some privacy, she stood guard at the front of the pier. She kept her sword arm raised in case any bandits or thugs wished to test their luck and die that day.

Astarion sat up, no visible injuries on the man. Tav breathed a breathe of relief. She was so concerned he was hurt that she almost paid no attention to herself. She didn’t notice that she made no attempts to conceal her disheveled or out of breath and perspiring appearance. Astarion noticed, of course. He also noticed she only came with Karlach and no one else. How did she find him, and how long were they searching?

“What in the Hells are you doing?!” Astarion hissed in frustration. “You came here with only Karlach? No one else? You look horrible, you should be in bed!”

Tav was not going to take any shit from him considering the circumstance, however. She did notice when they woke him what he mumbled, and she figured they would get to that later. First, it appeared they would have their first marital fight.

“You’re right! I should be in my bed with my husband! Instead I’m taking directions from a hamster that watched us fuck so he could steal my cheese and arguing with my stubborn husband behind a house in the middle of the night instead of back at the tavern where all our friends are to protect us!”

Astarion looked very perplexed, and in any other situation it would have been comical. Tav suspected it was the hamster comment that threw him off. In any case, his confusion gave her a moment to continue to speak.

“I had a flashback to that damn rapist again, and when I wake up, I find I am alone, and that you’ll be back, but not sure when! You leave your most treasured physical possession behind, I’m guessing as reassurance, but instead, it freaked me out that something was wrong! I was terrified something had happened to my husband! Thankfully Boo was in our room last night because I accidentally had his favorite cheese. The little guy wanted it and watched us have sex. He knew where you went and I followed. I don’t even want to know what he told the ranger.” Tav explained as she sighed.

Astarion got to his feet so she would no longer have to look down at him and he closed the distance. He wasn’t a fan of the rodent voyeur, nor of her finding him. He came out here for a reason, but he knew she wouldn’t leave him after this and would need an explanation. He owed her that much. Astarion took a step forward and moved his hands slowly to encircle them around his wife and was surprised when she held him back. She didn’t pull away or was frightened of him because of how he acted.

“After you went to sleep, I left. I felt disgusted with myself and had a lot of self-loathing.”Astarion spoke above her ear as they held each other. “I felt like I needed to be punished, or worse. That part of that fucker was in me, that after all that torment he somehow was able to impart some of his ruthlessness and himself into me. Like I told you before, I’m trying to figure out and find me again. I felt like I was backed into a corner, like I hadn’t made any progress. It made me panic, I wasn’t like that bastard! I never want to be like him! I had to get out and get away. I didn’t want to keep hurting you. I felt strongly I had to punish myself, so I came here to get away, but close enough to be nearby in case of anything.” Astarion began holding her with more force, he was snuggling with her and let a few errant tears fall. He almost forgot how safe he felt with her. Why did he feel the need to run in the first place? He knew she wouldn’t hold it against him. It wasn’t in her nature. He dropped his head so his forehead rested on his shoulder as he backed up his feet a little to give a little space between the couple. Astarion felt Tav bring her hand up to the back of his head and gently pet the back of his head to the base of his skull. She continued to do this as Astarion closed his eyes, settling himself in her arms. He opened them and raised his head. He went to apologize, when Tav leaned forward and kissed him briefly. Astarion shook his head and leaned forward to catch her lips as she pulled away. He caught her unaware, and slipped his tongue inside her mouth as he kissed her. Tav moaned in a low whisper, which Astarion was thankful for, as Karlach wasn’t far away. Astarion pulled back to speak to her.

“I’m sorry.”

Tav warmly smiled at him and she brought her hand up to his elven pointed ear. She rubbed the tips of his ears sensually as she spoke.

“It’s okay. You have nothing to apologize for. You’re not like Cazador, and you will never be like him. I should have had more communication with you and used the safe word when it became too much.”

“...But…You can’t be with that man for two centuries without being infected by him!” Astarion commented. He closed his eyes unaware if Tav knew that that an elf’s ears were erogenous zones.

“You. Are. Not. Cazador. I love you. You trust me, don’t you?” Tav questioned as Astarion tried to stifle a moan. It was then that Tav pulled her hand away from his ear and smirked. If she didn’t know before, Astarion was sure she knew now.

“...Always.”

“Then trust me now. You do not deserve punishment. Gods…you’ve been punished enough in this life. You deserve happiness. You deserve peace! You’re not Cazador. You’re my beautiful and obstinate husband.” Tav took Astarion’s hand into her own. “Can we go back yet? It’s a bit chilly out here.”

Astarion smiled and nodded, however, when Tav turned to walk down the path, she tripped on the broken wood as her eye sight wasn’t as good as her husband’s in such a dark location. She lost her balance and fumbled until her foot slipped off the edge and landed her straight into the frigid water. Astarion watched as it unfolded and failed to catch her in time. Noting she had her medium armor on, he sprung into action. He knew he had his armor on too but his was light and wouldn’t hinder him or his vampiric strength as his dove in after her. He was able to help her back to the surface as she coughed up foul water. Karlach heard the commotion and had turned around to see the vampire swimming to the pier with his wife in his other arm who was retching up more water to free up her lungs as the fall took her by surprise. Karlach held out her hand and helped Astarion pull Tav up onto the land while Astarion hoisted himself out of the dank liquid. Tav coughed a few times but got her composure back fairly quickly. It seemed that the noise and actions had attracted others, though.

Karlach had turned as she was closest to the shore to see four bandits who appeared happy to see them. Tav was standing up straight after her battle with gravity when she noticed, Astarion already made his way in front of her like a shield with a snarl on his face as she was compromised from the fall.

“Well, well, well, Look what we have here, boys? Looks like a couple girls and some small twink landed in our toll yard and didn’t pay the fee. Can you believe that?” The main bandit heckled as he was dressed in basic gear and armor. The difference in their weapons and armor was pitiful and downright hilarious. They still chose to pick a fight anyways.

Tav had a massive headache between everything that had gone on that night, but after hearing them call her husband a twink, she grew enraged. Who in the nine hells did they think they were? They had no idea who they were dealing with!

Astarion didn’t let the word get to him or his composure change. He had both of Orin’s daggers in hand and he was in position and ready to strike. Tav was not sure how, but her favorite sword, the ‘Soulbreaker’ greatsword she ‘acquired’ from the captain in the Githyanki Creche was still affixed to her back even after what had just happened. She was happy for small miracles. Tav drew her sword as Karlach wielded the Everburn Blade, a powerful sword from the Nautiloid ship they crashed from after stealing it from the body of the mind flayer they killed after their escape.

“Oh, now now, we don’t have to hurt you, you ladies. Just give us everything you have…maybe a few favors here and there, and you can leave with the skin on your back. Not much use for your sickly looking male friend though. Maybe we can sell him, make some money off him.” They excitedly spoke among themselves loudly and directed towards the group. Astarion at this point was seeing red at the mere suggestion of favors, or in his mind, raping the girls, especially his wife and of course the nudge at slavery. Astarion stalked forward silently and with precision like the girls were used to him doing, while the bandits didn’t see them as a threat…yet. Astarion made sure to stay crouched down and came up behind one of the bandits on the far right of Karlach. He was out of sight from the others and Astarion killed him quickly and silently. He moved on to the rest as the main bandit continued to speak. Digging his own very painful grave by pissing off a vampire.

“The red one is cute, but I kind of like the one behind her. Come on, sweet cheeks. Why not get it over with and come here?” He chided at Tav who watched and decidedly didn’t react as Astarion killed another of his lackeys. Only two remained of the group. The bandit went to turn around when he saw Astarion slit the throat of his fellow bandit friend. He was all that remained. The white haired ‘sickly twink’ as he described him seemed to have a aura of murder about him. The bandit backed up almost into Karlach but he turned and hit the wall of the house as Astarion narrowed his sights and stalked his prey. Tav knew what was coming next and only hoped Karlach didn’t have a queasy stomach, but she doubted it considering her background in Avernus.

“I…I…I’m sorry, you can take it, take everything! I’m sorry, please let me live! I’ll do anything!!!” The man pleaded on deaf ears.

“Rapists don’t deserve to live.” Astarion stated and in matter of fact voice before sinking his teeth into the man’s neck and doing something Tav never saw him do before. He ripped the flesh clean off with his teeth and spit it aside, feasting on the blood as it gurgled out that way instead of the clean and efficient way Astarion usually fed.

Astarion pulled back and wiped his face with the back of his sleeve. “We should leave.”

The women followed with him until they got up the first set of stairs, and Tav just had to ask.

“Why did you kill him that way?”

Astarion glanced at her and smirked. “A few reasons, my dear. First, I wanted him to suffer for what he wanted to make you both do. He never would have succeeded, of course, both of you would have smashed him to dust, but after what happened…I…No. Not again. Additionally, we know the guard may be searching for a vampire if we keep questing in the city. If I keep feeding like normal, they are bound to find the marks. This way I get some blood, but it looks like he was killed by a wild dog rather than a higher thinking monster. It is not nearly as efficient, though. Lastly, I wanted to send a message. I am so tired of being worried about bandits and other trash in this city. By the time the child arrives, I have a lot of work to do to make sure you’ll be safe. Maybe I can detour a few of them.” Astarion chuckled.

Tav smiled and Karlach squealed about how cute the couple were. On the way back, Karlach had informed Tav on how she had helped Astarion during their honeymoon already. It embarrassed the woman, but she was happy that her husband thought ahead and was concerned enough to risk being “broken in two” by her like he insinuated she could do to him before. As they got nearer to the Tavern, Tav started to sway and grasped Astarion’s arm for support and balance. Astarion looked at her and studied her a moment before becoming alarmed. He picked her up before demanding information.

“How long have you been hiding this?”

Karlach was confused but stuck with them all the same, otherwise she thought she would be startled awake by another desperate plea from the fanged one.

“Relax, honey, I just have a bad headache. I’ve only been dizzy since we started looking for you.”

Astarion got upstairs and placed Tav on the bed after yanking her boots off, pulling the great sword aside and placing it against the corner of the bed against the wall within reach. He began undoing the clips on the armor so she could be free of the offending piece of armor. Astarion grabbed the pack off his back and yanked a potion out, tossing the pack to the side. He handed it to her after uncorking it. Tav rolled her eyes but humored him all the same. He was more protective of her since the assault but Tav understood why. She appreciated it all the same as she grew her confidence back to where it used to be.

Karlach mentioned being tired and dipped out, leaving the couple alone in the room. Astarion thanked her, and after the tiefling left the room, he double locked the door, and turned back to his wife.

“You need to strip. Now.” Astarion demanded as he tossed his own shirt off after removing his armor.

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