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fangsandfracturedhearts · 2 months ago

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Fangs and Fractured Hearts

Chapter 23: Way Down We Go

Summary: After embracing eternity as a vampire spawn under Astarion's wing, the Crimson Palace becomes a haunting symbol of the man he once was. As his personality unravels into a dark abyss, you flee. A year of hardship unveils the harsh reality of existence as a vampire spawn.

Just as all hope seems lost, a twist of fate reunites you with Astarion, revealing a glimmer of hope amidst the shadows. As you navigate the complexities of your relationship, you must confront the unsettling truth behind the Rite of Profane Ascension and the devilish secrets it holds.

In a race against time, you embark on a daring quest to save Astarion from his descent into darkness. With each choice you make, the stakes grow higher, testing the limits of your courage and determination.

Will Astarion find redemption, or is he destined to succumb to his own inner turmoil?

Word Count: 6k

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x female!Tav Spawn

Warnings: [Will try to continue to add more, but in general expect explicit content for mature audiences]

Possible spoilers. Eventual Explicit Content. Slow Burn. Thoughts of Suicide. Violence. Blood. Injury. Mature Content. Self-Harm. Mentions of in-game content. Completely fabricated camp events. Mentions of Astarion's Trauma.

If you notice a very critical tag missing, please don't hesitate to let me know

Rating: Explicit 18+ - [Meant For Mature Audience]

Gale’s words shower over you like acidic rain. Could he really be speaking the truth? Could Astarion’s compulsion have been driving you down this path all this time? Even though you don’t need to breathe, it feels like the air has been sucked from your lungs, and you clutch at your chest as if it might help you feel a little less off-kilter.

You glance at your husband, who has stumbled away from the altercation and is pressing his forearm against the wall, taking deep breaths to try and keep himself present.

That icy chill of the sensuous song howls through the bond and regresses into your bones, making them feel like your skeleton is splintering. The ambrosial chords of the melody beseech you to sink into it, let yourself be overtaken, and it swears an oath that it will provide you with unlimited serenity.

You know it lies—that it parades false hopes and delusions—but the promises are tempting nonetheless. There is a part of you that begs to give in, if only so you can be swept away from this dream turned nightmare.

There is a choice you have to make quickly, and you glance between Gale and Astarion. Who do you believe? Who do you put your faith in?

Do you pick Gale, who has never directly lied or tried to manipulate you and who still harbours some sincere feelings for you? Gale, who has been trying to save you from the consequences of your foolish decisions since he and Shadowheart took you in knowing the danger you posed. Gale, who has been working tirelessly to find ways to pluck you from the suspension of this deathless death and restore you to life once more?

Or do you pick your newlywed husband, who you know has manipulated you, compelled you, and could easily be doing so again without your knowledge? Your husband, who played your love like a lyre to secure himself a spot in your good graces. Your husband, who kept you locked away when you did not turn out to be as obedient as he hoped. Your husband, who carved into your flesh without a hint of remorse.

You’ve spent months connected to Astarion’s mind. You’ve felt his feelings, heard his unfiltered thoughts, and haven’t detected any indications of deceit, but that does not mean Astarion could not force your mind to forget or bypass anything that was there.

He made you forget your name, after all.

You try to reach out to Astarion’s mind, but he cannot hear you over the bellow of Cania clamouring in his skulls.

Do you love him? Or is that another trick of the Ascendant? Has his compulsion rooted him into your mind and grown from a sapling to a mighty tree? Shadowheart’s warning twists in the storm of your chaotic thoughts — He will always do what it takes to survive.

The fates have not bestowed the time to deliberate. The choice must be made. You must pick one or the other, and the consequences of choosing wrong are dire.

A dangerous game, indeed.

“No, Gale,” you condemn resolutely. “Whatever proof you think you have, I have no need to hear it. I know in my heart that what I feel is real and not a compulsion.”

A small voice, deep within you, whispers. Is it?

There is no need to hear the objections forming on Gale’s lips. Your choice has been made, and you choose your husband, for better or worse. You turn away, ruck up your dress, and hurry over to Astarion. When you place your hand on his shoulder, he jerks away and snarls at you like a cornered animal. Your hand wavers for a moment, but you place it back on him defiantly.

“Astarion.” You try to get a look at his eyes, but they are squeezed shut with a terribly pained grimace that contorts his face. “I can be your light. Let me in.”

His eyes crack open, and you’re barely able to make out the scarlet that peeks through the narrow slits. You grasp onto him, and he fumbles to try and push you away with rigid, ungainly movement that is so unlike his usual easy grace.

“You don’t understand!” Gale shouts. “You will always choose him. It’s exactly what he’s compelled you to do. If you will only give me a moment, I can show you.”

“No!” You scream at the top of your lungs, the shrillness of your voice ripping your vocal chords. “I don’t care what you think you know, Gale. Leave. GET. OUT.”

Shadowheart grabs Gale’s robes, desperately trying to tug him away, but Gale shakes her off. “I’m sorry, my friend. You leave me no choice.”

Your brow quirks for only a moment before Gale shoots Dancing Lights high into the darkening sky, and you recognize the signal for aid from your adventures.

The high-pitched whistle of loosed arrows and the rush of marching boots are soon to follow. You quickly cast Wall of Stone and grab Astarion to drag him down behind the barrier. Numerous arrows hit the wall with a thunk. When the barrage finally ends, you peek around the wall to get a view of Gale’s apparent backup.

You’re stunned to see Gur filing into the space, bursting through all the doors, breaking windows, and lumbering over the fence of the terrace. Has it been Gale feeding the Gur information all this time? Did he nearly get Astarion killed?

Shadowheart stands in the midst of the chaos, mouth agape and completely unprepared, but you can see the golden light of her radiant magic illuminated on her fingertips. Whose side will she take? Gales or yours?

Astarion still pants beside you, his body practically vacillating the air with every one of his muscles quivering as he tries to fight the urge to sink into the song and languish in the abyssal prison of his own mind. You toe off your heels and unholster the spare dagger you know Astarion always keeps concealed under the leg of his pants. The sharp blade smoothly splits through the fine silk of your gown, and you tear away the bottom half of the skirt hastily.

The Weave fills you at your behest, and it coruscates around you in a roseate corona. You crouch, ready to pounce as the hoard of shuffling feet inch closer.

“Run, my love.” You hear Astarion’s strangled gasp as you take the first step out from behind the wall. “Run, and never look back.”

Though you understand the warning, you refuse to leave Astarion behind to be absorbed by the deceit of a devil. You once pledged to spill no more innocent blood, but it seems you cannot escape death. Rage burbles inside you, boiling over the edges. How many times have you tried to be good, do good, and where has it gotten you?

Perhaps it’s time to rise up like a lightning-ignited wildfire and fucking burn.

The first hunter rounds the corner of the stone shield with their crossbow aimed. You lash out, casting Fear, and the hunter cowers. Lunging forward, you grab their face, digging your fingers into their fleshy cheeks, and fire detonates from your palms. Flames liquify skin and burst from every orifice as they let out a strident shriek.

You hate that it feels good.

A battle axe swings in your peripheral vision. You duck, cast Magic Missile, pelleting the man with spiny bolts like a fleshly pincushion until he drops. Your grabbed from behind by a rough pair of hands and dragged backward away from Astarion. You growl, struggling against the constraint on your body. To your surprise, the hunters run straight past you, only meaning to subdue you.

You are not their target.

Sweat begins to drip down your forehead as you watch hunters barrel toward the wall protecting Astarion. You throw your head back, smashing your skull into the Gur’s nose, causing his grip to weaken, and wriggle out of his arms. You reel forward, fingers dancing, and a cloud of daggers bursts into existence, catching some of the hunters in their approach and cutting the rest off.

It’s all you can do before you’re thrust down and slammed into the boards of the terrace. Despite your attempts to fight it, the hunter manages to pin your arms with your palms flat against the rough wood. A knee digs into your back to cement you in place, and you’re helpless to watch as the hunters begin to descend on Astarion.

“Morere!”

You barely catch the flash of sickly green magic, feel the sudden jerk and shudder of the hands holding you down, and you’re released as the body slumps to the side. Shadowheart helps you to your feet, hauling you up with a surprising amount of strength.

There is no time to talk, and you nod in thanks as you sprint forward and rain Fireball down on the group nearing Astarion. Shadowheart tries to stick close to you, but in the chaos, you’re both bounced between bodies and separated once more.

The whiz of a blade slicing through the air makes your ears twitch, and you pivot just in time to catch the blade in your palm before it splits your skull in half. The sharp edge slices deeply into your hand as you strain against the sheer strength of a Fighter, and you must use both arms to block the attack.

Blood oozes down your forearms, coating your ashen skin in vivid red as you grapple, feeling yourself slowly fold under the brute force. Your eyes dart around for Shadowheart, but she’s locked in her own struggle across the terrace. Fire spits from your palms, heating the blade until it burns red-hot, and you can hear the sizzle of your skin and your opponents, but he does not let up or even falter.

“Not her!” You hear Gale shouting from somewhere in the disorder. “We had a deal!”

Your knees eventually begin to fold in on themselves under the pressure, and your arms shake as the tension mounts. The rigid boards creak as your knees are ground into them. You squeeze your eyes closed and let out a strangled cry as your arms begin to giveaway.

The stress is released suddenly. Your eyes jerk up, and your stomach sinks when you realize it’s not your husband’s brilliantly red eyes staring back at you, but the blunted maroon of his shadow.

He smiles hauntingly. “Shall we put our differences aside for a moment and deal with the more pressing matter at hand, or would you prefer I kill you now?”

You nod your grim acceptance of the offered temporary truce. He flourishes his dagger, grabbing your arm and yanking you forward into his chest. For a moment, you think the truce was another ruse, and he’s about to sink his blade into you, but it lodges deep into the temple of a hunter who is holding a stake that was meant for your back.

Thrusting yourself away from him, you turn and press your back against his in a reflexive habit formed during your adventure. It is a tactic you and Astarion used on many occasions when you were fighting hoards of enemies. He seems to remember it and holds his position while you cast Thunderwave to throw the incoming attackers backward.

“Can you slow them down?” He asks.

“Do you really need me to, Ascendant?”

Astarion chuckles darkly. “Hardly. I was thinking of you, darling. It would be such a pity if one of these dogs had the pleasure of putting you down before I do.”

“Then I guess you’re going to have to keep me alive.” You cast Web to slow the Gur down. It will allow you to cast at range, and Astarion should have the dexterity to negate the effects. “Right or left?”

“Left.”

Astarion bursts into mist, reappears behind one of the Gur, and his blade runs across their throat, slicing through skin and sinews like softened butter while he laughs maniacally. You go right, keeping yourself skirting around the borders where you are most proficient at casting at range. Spells skip across your lips, and the Weave flows between your fingers in a kaleidoscope of colours. Chain Lightening ropes between enemies in close proximity, turning them to little more than steaming husks. Scorching Rays buffets the chest of a hunter to your left, and Magic Missile skewers another.

You cast carefully, trying to keep track of Astarion from one minute to the next, but his speed makes his movements nearly incalculable. He blinks in and out of existence, often appearing out of thin air, running his blade from belly to neck like gutting a fish, and phasing out once more.

It would be impressive if it were not so incredibly daunting.

The click of a crossbow surprises you, and you hear the bolt whistling through the air as you turn toward the sound. It streaks toward you, only visible by the faint chromatic flash of the metallic arrow point, and your stomach sinks as you brace for the impact. Astarion appears in a flurry of red mist. He snatches the arrow out of the air, whirling to keep the momentum, and launches it back. The bolt imbeds itself into the eye of the woman with so much force that her head snaps back, and she’s reeled off her feet.

He smirks smugly with a wink and disperses again. You continue your death march, your eyes skipping through the crowd until you spot Shadowheart grappling with a hunter. If you don’t get her out of here, Astarion will target her when he’s done massacring the remaining Gur.

You run up behind the hunter, cast Disintegrate, and grab her arm, dragging her toward the door. “You need to leave. Now.”

“I didn’t do this, Illyria!” She shouts, pulling back. “I swear.”

“I know.” You cast Telekinesis and launch a hunter blocking your path to the door off the terrace. “Astarion’s gone. You must go.”

“I won’t leave you!” She growls obstinately.

A hand wraps around your arm. You snarl and turn with your teeth bared, ready to rip out the throat of whoever dares try and stop you, and see Gale’s rounded, solemn eyes. There is a part of you that wants to make him pay for this, but you know that his intentions are pure. In his eyes, he’s trying to protect you, and you cannot damn him for that.

You grab his sleeve roughly and shove them both into the foyer with all the force you can muster. “Leave. Both of you. Now.”

“Illyria.” Gale pleads, trying to grab your shoulder, and you smack his hand away. “Don’t you understand? It’s all been a compulsion. All of this, everything you think you feel, is a lie. If you would only give me a moment—”

“No!” You trample over him, and the truth sneaks out of your mouth. You look at him sombrely, tears pricking your eyes. “Don’t you understand?! I don’t care. I don’t want to know.”

“What?” He stares at you slack-jawed. “My friend, you cannot be serious.”

“I am.”

And that’s the crux of it, isn’t it? The unfiltered truth is that you would rather sink into this fantasy than sink into despair. If it has all been a compulsion, a beautifully polished lie, you don’t want to know.

“Leave.” You thrust Shadowheart’s bag into her hands. “Both of you before Astarion—“

“Before Astarion, what?” Astarion appears, blocking the doorway, blood-drenched, and looking beyond crazed. “Going somewhere?” He pouts. “And here I thought we were all such good friends.”

You’re launched backward, sliding across the floor, and back out onto the terrace until you hit a mushy mass of flesh. You scramble to your feet, stumbling, and Shadowheart and Gale are likewise pitched out of the villa, their bodies thumping into the boards and skipping across them.

Your brain works to try and formulate a plan—any plan—but falls flat. Astarion is too quick to try and run from and too strong to try and fight head-on. Even if you could fight him, would you? Could you? Is this the poisoned loyalty that Gale is talking about or love?

Astarion glances around the ruined villa with a furrowed brow. “This is lovely. What party did I crash?”

“Our wedding,” you answer honestly.

“Gods,” he spits in limitless contempt. “He married his spawn? Idiot.”

Spawn…

It dawns on you that this version of Astarion has no idea that you’re not merely a spawn but a bride, which means he does not know you share a mental connection. There must be a way to use his ignorance to your advantage, but you don’t have very much time to figure it out.

“Well, all the more reason to rid myself of you,” he shrugs irritatedly as if his counterpart has left him a chore to do. “The wizard might make a fun spawn though, no? I wager he would be splendidly obedient. Unlike you, pet.”

Shadowheart gasps, bringing his attention to her, tucked away behind your legs. “The Cleric, too. She knows how to faithfully worship a God. Don’t you, flower? You wouldn’t even need much training. You already know how to get on your knees.”

You growl low and shout. “You won’t touch her or Gale for that matter, boy!”

Boy. What Cazador used to call him, and you know he despises. If you can enrage him, you might be able to get his attention completely on you. It’s a bad plan, a terrible one, but it’s the best you have right now.

“Pardon?” He hisses. “You best rethink that, pet, or I will make you suffer!”

You hate what you’re doing, but you try your best to reuse things you heard Cazador taunt him with. “I’ve known you for years. Have I not suffered enough?”

“Silence!” He orders, a tic working in his jaw, and his eye twitching.

“You are weak,” you snarl, pressing on even though it makes your stomach twist in upset. “You’re a small, pathetic little boy who never amounted to anything. Even with all this power, you are still nothing.”

You see the quick flash of Astarion’s hand going for his dagger; see him lunge toward you as if in slow motion. The Weave glows in your eyes. You will fight to your last. If you’re lucky, it might give Shadowheart enough time to get herself and Gale out of here.

Astarion flashes across the terrace, disappearing into mist and reappearing only a step ahead of you. A flash of fire suddenly brightens the area, blinding you temporarily. The smell of brimstone and sulphur fills your nostrils, and your eyes snap open to see Astarion’s dagger millimetres away from your chest, but he’s held fast in a spell you recognize well.

Hold Monster.

You look to Shadowheart and Gale, but it’s clear neither of them are behind this because they look as bewildered as you.

“Quite the show this has been. A pity I had to step in and ruin the grand finale.” Mizora’s voice comes from behind you. She waves her hand, and a swirling, fiery portal opens up just behind you. “I can only get you to Avernus. You will have to find your way to Cania from there.”

When you don’t move, she rolls her eyes. “It’s now or never, pet. I cannot hold him forever.”

You can’t leave Astarion here, not like this. There is no telling what horrors this version of him will reap on Baldur's Gate. More importantly, he will no doubt target your friends. What good would saving him do if he cannot live with the guilt of his actions?

“He needs to come with me,” you murmur.

“That’s a very stupid thing to do.” Mizora snaps. “He will kill you as soon as you set foot in Avernus.”

“Maybe, but maybe not. It doesn’t matter. He cannot be left here.”

Her eyes narrow, and her brow creases with tension as the spell shimmers, wavering slightly. “You’re running out of time.”

“Let him go when I give the signal, Mizora.”

She huffs but nods. “Tick-Tock.”

“Illyria! Don’t do this!” Shadowheart grabs your ankle, but there is no time to debate.

“I have to.”

You position yourself several feet behind him and get ready. Before you can nod, Shadowheart scrambles to her feet, takes Gale’s quarterstaff from his hands, and tosses it and her bag to you. You catch them, secure it across your body, and grip the quarterstaff in both hands. Whatever the bag holds, it will be your only supplies. There is no time to fetch clothes or weapons. Even you can see that Mizora is struggling to hold him, and the cage has started to fissure and crack like stressed glass.

Nodding to give the signal, Mizora instantly lifts the spell, and Astarion reels forward. You sprint with all the speed you possess, slam into him, and use the momentum to propel you both through the swirling, burning maw of the portal.

Jagged, obsidian crystals slice gashes into your arms and legs when you crash into the treacherous terrain. The air is sweltering, acrid, and tastes heavily of ash. You push yourself up onto your wobbly legs. Before you have time to recover, Astarion’s hand wraps around your neck, lifting you into the air with no visible effort.

“What have you done!?”

Your words are cut off, and only strangled noises are able to escape your throat, but you cannot help the faint smile that quirks your lips up. Those dull eyes are filled with an unease and the slightest hint of fear.

He seems to notice and quickly steels his countenance back to that of a confident arrogance. His hand tightens a fraction, fingernails cutting into your bruising skin. His dagger flashes in his hand, twirling into his grip, and he presses the tip of the blade firmly into your abdomen. You’re surprised when the progression halts before it can do so much as cut you. He falters, the dagger wavering almost imperceptibly, and he scoffs, dropping you unceremoniously.

He glares at his hand with a puzzled twist to his lips and stows his blade. “I have half a mind to decorate the ground with your innards.”

His threats sound empty, or you have abandoned your fear of this version of him. He once told you that he would never kill you, and so far, that has proved true despite the ample opportunities he’s had.

“Why didn’t you then? Performance issues?”

“No!” He huffs in indignation. “I have a better idea.”

Astarion’s eyes glow, and the tendrils of compulsion take your muscles hostage. “Follow me, pet.”

You obey, getting to your feet, and hate that it feels glorious to assent. Astarion looks around, apparently settling on a direction, although you think it’s simply a random choice. There is nothing but hills and low, rocky mountains as far as the eye can see. He starts walking, and you quickly fall into place at his heels.

The land is covered in rubble and sharp stones of quartz and other crystalline-looking structures that gnaw at your bare feet, but you’re helpless to stop even as the pain mounts. Each step leaves a bloody footprint, dotting the charred wasteland. The side effects of the blood war can be seen spreading across the environment. Skulls and bones of creatures big and small litter your path, and it’s not long before you begin to see the crumbling remains of buildings, their walls blackened and caved in, stone strewn about, and large craters in the terrain from the impacts of the fireballs.

Clouds of red and black roil in the reddened sky, flickering with orange flames and fireballs that frequently race across the darkened heights. You stay quiet, staring at the back of Astarion’s head while you try to figure out how exactly you’re going to get your husband back. His ignorance of your mental connection could prove useful, but he will know if you attempt to go digging around in his head. That will have to remain a last resort.

Astarion only gave the order to follow, but he did not specify how closely, and you begin to fall behind. At first, it’s merely a small length, but the distance increases as your feet are chewed up by the ground.

“You’re quiet.” You hear him utter from ahead of you. “There was a time when I couldn’t get you to shut up.”

“I have nothing to say to you.”

Astarion glances over his shoulder, alerted to the fact that you’re lagging behind him by the quietness of your voice. “Quit dawdling.”

It’s not a command, and you don’t bother to quicken your pace but only roll your eyes at him with an exasperated scoff.

“You’re bleeding.” He states simply, scenting the air.

“Wow.” You transform your expression into one of mock awe. “Your powers of observation are truly a marvel to behold. Seven thousand souls have given you the great power of stating the obvious.”

“Cheeky. Be careful with that smart mouth, darling, or I’ll cut your tongue out. Now, hurry the Hells up.”

“I have no fucking shoes, Astarion!” You gesture toward your feet. “It’s like walking across hot shards of glass.”

He arches a high brow at you, looking rather amused or astonished at the insolence in your tone. “And whose fault is that exactly?”

“Yours.”

“I do not believe I was the one who pushed us into the fucking hells!” He snorts, crossing his arms. “Come on, pup. Walk faster. We haven’t got all day.”

“We’re immortal, Astarion. We literally have eternity.”

But you do, in fact, hurry up because you cannot fight his compulsion. The sharp rocks and stones rend the flesh of your feet, often jutting from the ground and piercing so deep you’re sure they glance off your bone. It doesn’t matter how carefully you try to place your steps; the ground is uneven and cluttered, and every step serves as another painful reminder of where you are and who you are with. The only reprieve afforded to you is when he stops to look around, where he once again appears to choose a direction at random. He leads you deeper into what appears to be a ruined fortress of some kind. Skeletons, big, small, and gargantuan alike hang limply, strewn everywhere the eye can see. Others look so old they’ve petrified, and you have to crawl between teeth that are twice your size.

It is beyond still in this fiendish graveyard, and the silence is so deep that you wonder if you might be able to suffocate in it. Whenever you trip over a rock or fall, it gives you the distinct impression that you’re disturbing the peaceful rest of the dead simply by existing.

When you once again finally step out into the ruined street, you can vaguely see the river Styx, slithering over the landscape like a scarlet snake with glinting scales. You don’t make it far when you notice a slowly moving shadow that seems to be increasing in size as if a dark cloud were drifting over you.

Your eyes flick upward and spot a mammoth fire-spewing boulder careening with the speed of a meteor. It takes you a moment to recall what you read when you were doing research about the layers of the Hells.

“The fireballs that race across the darkened sky of Avernus appear random at first glance, but be warned, they actively target motion.”

Shit.

Instinct kicks in, and you bolt toward Astarion, who is just beginning to notice the increasing darkness. For a moment, you’re blessedly free of the pain in your feet with the spike of adrenaline. Your arms encircle his waist, and you launch your body weight into him. He tries to catch himself before falling, but his heel catches on a rock, and he falls backward.

“You little shit!” He shouts.

The fireball hits with enough force that you can feel it vibrate the ground as red silt is blown outward like a wave. You close your eyes, feeling as it settles on your skin. When you’re able to open them again, dust falls off your lashes, and the earth is charred and smoking around the crater that lays just a little ways off where Astarion’s feet are.

You don’t realize that you’ve fallen on top of him until you glance back and see his wide eyes looking at the hole where he had been standing and back to you. For a moment, you think you see affection in those cold eyes, perhaps gratitude, but he chucks you off of him roughly.

“You did that!” He hisses.

The stones feel like needles against your palms as you push yourself up and give him an incredulous look. “Why the fuck would I do that and then save you?”

“You’re trying to toy with me, with my emotions, but it won’t work!” He growls, gesturing wildly. “I have been manipulating people for longer than you have been alive. Your games will not work on me, you wretched bit—”

His shouting is cut off when another shadow descends, the boulder whistling through the air, and Astarion has to phase into mist and back to avoid the strike. Both of you look to the sky, and your brows downturn, mouth slack-jawed, when you notice the swarm of them catapulting toward you.

“Shelter! We have to find shelter!” You scream.

You barely get the words out before they start thundering into the earth, each seemingly having a mind of their own. They force you to throw yourself to the side, back, forward, repeatedly to avoid being squished.

“The cave!” Astarion bellows, pointing toward a rocky cliff face.

Between the smoke and dust in the air, you can’t see a cave, but you attempt to start flinging your body in that direction. You can’t see where Astarion went, but you do feel the tug of his compulsion forcing your feet to move in a certain direction, which is interfering with your ability to evade the oncoming onslaught. That, coupled with the current state of your feet, your movement is dreadfully hindered.

A fireball slams into the ground behind you. The heat radiating off it sears your flesh before it explodes on impact, and you get caught by the shrapnel and thrown from your feet. Black dots march in your vision. You try to blink them away and get up, but the hellscape around you swells and dips like rough waves.

You can barely make out of vague darkening of the area surrounding you, and you try to drag yourself out of its path. Will it hurt, or will you be brought peace long before your brain can receive the signals for pain? You laugh softly at the prospect of being killed by a fireball after you’ve cast them countless times to do the same to your enemies.

Your stomach lurches as if you’ve fallen suddenly, and your world becomes a shapeless blur. A comfortable pressure encircles your waist, and before you know it, you’re enveloped in a deep dimness. When your eyes finally clear, you’re looking out the mouth of a cave, watching fireballs fall like hail from the sky.

Astarion stands with his back pressed hard against the stone, his eyes closed, and his chest heaving with heavy breaths. He’s covered in soot and rusty-coloured dust. He saved you? Hope blooms in your chest that when he opens his eyes, they will be the fiery sunset warmth of your husbands.

“Astarion?” Your voice is rough and hoarse from having inhaled the dirt in the air.

“Master to you, pet,” he purrs, his eyes opening slowly to reveal the lifeless maroon like a ruby covered by layers of dust.

Astarion watches you almost curiously for several minutes while you observe the chaos happening just outside the opening of the cave before he takes a seat. His forearms rest on his knees, and he twirls his dagger between his fingers, feeling the edge of it to judge the sharpness.

It’s nostalgic watching the way he assesses the blade and checks the weight and balance of it. How many times did you watch him perform the same inspections of his weapons in camp? You shouldn’t be surprised, you guess. This Astarion is still Astarion, but this Astarion is composed of two centuries of darkness and Cazador’s tortures.

Opening Shadowheart’s bag, you dig through the contents. There are a couple of random scrolls, a potion of healing, and the sharp, glass scraps of whatever potion didn’t make it through. There is a small pouch of coin, though you think it will do little good here. Your heart swells when you see her trousers and shirt, apparently stashed after she changed into your dress. The masterpiece that was your wedding dress is ruined beyond recognition, and you slip out of it.

“That’s some positively scandalous negligee,” Astarion taunts. “I assume that was for him?”

You glance down at the strappy, lace nightwear you had meant to surprise your husband with. “Well, it certainly wasn’t meant for you,” you retort.

“And yet, here I am enjoying the view and not him,” he says sinisterly.

Astarion turns, grabbing your ankle and giving it a quick tug toward him. He crawls up your body with that sensual smile you know too well and dips his head to kiss your hipbone, below your belly button, and continuing upwards. Though your brain knows the difference between your husband and this imposter, your body does not, and a shiver runs down your spine.

You push hard on his shoulders, trying to push him away, and he brings his eyes up with a lazy, crooked smile. He rests his chin on your stomach, his hot breath fans your cold skin.

“I know you want me,” he purrs, his fingers playing with the straps of your nightwear. “You cannot hide it from me, little lamb, and it seems we have some time to spare.”

“I want him,” you correct. “I have no interest in you. Get off me.”

“Him. Me. What’s the difference?” He shrugs and places another lingering kiss in the soft spot between your ribs. “We are one and the same. I’ll even be generous. I’ll whisper the sweet little lies I’m positive he feeds you, and you can pretend I am him.”

“I said no,” you growl, letting your palms heat against his shoulders in a warning.

Astarion sighs, rolls his eyes, and pushes himself to his knees. “Gods above. Why are you such a drip? Honestly, it’s like you hate having a good time.”

Pulling on Shadowheart’s shirt and tugging on the trousers without acknowledging his goading, you grab your raw feet and cringe. The blood is starting to dry, your healing abilities kicking in, but there are still crystal slivers and shards sticking out of your toes and heels, nestled deeply in your skin and muscle. You grasp at them, managing to pull some out, but your fingers aren’t quite nimble enough or adroit enough at getting purchase on the smaller, thinner pieces.

Astarion watches you again, with an odd intensity that you find puzzling. He reaches for you, but you recoil and pull away.

“Let me help.” It borders between an order and an offer, as if he couldn’t decide which and never made a choice either way.

It’s either this or walking with crystal shards impaling your feet, so you reluctantly slide your foot toward him. Astarion’s hand wraps around your ankle, and he lifts your leg and places it on his thigh. His eyes scrutinize the wounds carefully, and though his face remains cold and impassive, when they flick to you briefly, you swear you see concern in them.

Astarion plucks out the remaining pieces one by one, easing them from your flesh with more care than you would have thought this version of him possessed. When he’s done, he scoops up the remains of your dress and cuts long pieces from the silk, wrapping them around each foot in some sort of makeshift shoe. It’s unlikely to do much in the way of protection from the elements and will likely get chewed to shreds as quickly as your skin did, but the gesture still leaves you dumbstruck.

You cannot help yourself. “Why are you doing this?”

“I need you to be able to walk.” He states simply.

“Where are you taking me?”

He smiles ominously, predator-like, and it makes you such in a sharp breath. “We are going to bargain with Mephistopheles, of course. What do you think he will bestow upon me when I hand deliver the little snake who aims to reverse his arrangement?”

Big thank you for everyone who takes the time to read/reblog/comment, and all the other magnificent things.

Master List of Chapters: Fangs and Fractured Hearts

If you're interested I write another fic with Spawn Astarion x Tav called - Shadows of the Past

Small Notes:

We've finally made it to the Hells!

#bg3 fanfiction #astarion fanfic #bg3 #astarion x you #astarion #ascended astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion x tav #astarion smut #astarion baldurs gate #fangs and fractured hearts #astarion x oc #astarion x female tav #astarion x named tav

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tmntxthings · 2 years ago

Text

Σ一The Villainess, AKA: Cherrypie ‘A Cute-Meet’。・゜・

summary: way before the night of the ball, Y/n and Raph met under pretty average circumstances, if average includes testing out a prototype for a cloaking brooch & a certain special ring getting stolen

author’s note: this is first prequel to the ongoing collab with <3 @marwhoa <3 we have been contemplating more prequels to continue adding depth to the story and ofc the almighty ‘part two’

warnings: rise!raph x villain!reader, cloaking brooch au, secret identities, cute meet, fluff

〔you’re here�� → next

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Through one of the very few quiet streets of the city, a hand emerges from the wall. Around it glitters magenta sparks, twinkling as an entire body follows through it. As dazzling an entrance as that was, this particular stranger happened to be dressed simply. A plain, ruffled, scarlet dress with a billowing skirt, accented by the pair of matching sandals wrapping up her calves, and tied together by a red clutch-purse as its accentuating piece. ‘Plain-Jane’ blinked away a crackle of red magic that was quite literally drawn into a ring upon her finger. Small bits of arcane energy surged in, bouncing erratically beneath the clear film protecting ruby crystals inside—all until the last twinkle blipped into the vacuum.

With a few calming rotations of the ring around her digit and a tucking of stray hairs behind her ear, the silent street was filled by soft tmps of the mysterious newcomer’s light footsteps. Perpendicular to the alley she has appeared through, a sneaky peek was given before she stepped out the next pin-drop quiet street with sidewalks that likely experienced so little foot traffic that they just might be clean enough to eat on.

Luckily, this lass wasn’t here to dine on the sidewalk picnic style—no, no, she was here for a special café that was quite literally the hidden gem beaten off the path. Had it not been for her frequenting, it likely wouldn’t be able to stay open. THAT is just how out of the way it was. Alright, that may have been blown out of proportion, but Y/n couldn’t care less as she and her temporarily-inflated self-importance pushed through the doors. Immediately she was woken up by the soothing hold of coffee grinds and baked goods. They cradled her, placing energizing kisses upon both cheeks.

A barista greeted the door’s chiming bell with a cheerful good morning and “Welcome to Sugar n’Spice!”

Any sleepiness brave enough to stay in your system from a bright and early rise wouldn’t stand a chance in this quaint, domestic place and its enlivening, ambrosial scents as you approached the counter. A glance was passed to the occupants of the room—a man who looked like he just got out of the gym, two sickly looking old ladies by the window, a lady bouncing a kid on her hip, and a man in a suit who’s foot tapped in a ‘watching the clock closely’ fashion.

Giving a curt “Excuse me,” as you navigated around the impatient man, you swallowed the bitterness upon your tongue for these humans who had the privilege to be here, topside, all day, any day. Hold back that discontent, for there is one important rule! A personally appointed exception, specially made for Sugar n’Spice: this place was divine enough to escape your witchy wrath. Show utmost respect by refraining from the usual ‘Hidden City Dweller seething at the humans.’ You could do that anywhere but here. This place was the holy land. The heavenly pinnacle of coffee—the SACRED LAN—

“Ma’am …?”

The barista tilted their head towards you playfully as that increasingly bizarre inner monologue settled abruptly. The distractions were waved off by a shaking of your noggin and an apologetic smile. “Sorry! Caught up with something—could I get the spiced Red Velvet latte? Please.”

Your lips shifted into a patient smile as the barista practically sighed in relief, hand on their chest as they muttered, “..much more normal than that last customer,” under their breath. You quirked an eyebrow at this but quickly rested your features. Humans complained too much for folks that—no! No, no, Y/n, quit it. The rule, remember the rule!

“Oh! Also, can I do the student discount? I’m an Eastlaird student.”

There was a missed opportunity as three of the occupants in the room perked up upon hearing that name; alas, your attention was instead fixated on your red clutch. Swiftly unlatching it and digging out two cards: one to show to the barista, your ID, and the second, your debit card. The animated worker leaned in, nodded at the little plastic, and took off some of the charge via the ‘Sugar n’Spice’s Nice Discount.’ With just one swipe of a debit card and a little wave after the machine’s little ‘doot!’ , you were all ready to go and await your beloved order. Your seeking eyes gazed all around the room in search of a table to claim until landing fondly upon a small two-seater. There, in the corner opposite of the old ladies and other waiting humans, was a perfectly empty space. Morning sun rays seemed to illuminate a chair for you to sit in, whispering a ‘come here to enjoy the one thing humans were able to do right, dear!’

After a moment to place your things upon the uninhabited table, you then went over and leaned against the counter near where orders came out and scrolled nonchalantly through your cellular. A scoff or two may have escaped at whatever human news headlines caught your eyes, at least up until your expression glimmered with a split-second of trepidation as an instinctual swipe did away with an unwanted notification.

NOTIFICATION

You have one new message.

———————————————————

➤ MOTHER sent now

Where are you?

Not here, please, agonized the disguised witch silently. This was your one true escape—the one and only getaway from home that you had. Away from the mystic training, away from her, and into a place where you could be a normal... A normal what, human? Don’t even think about finishing that thought.

But, Sugar n’Spice cafe… this was one of the only human-made delights you had…

Surely that granted you one little ‘cross my heart’ secret kept, right?

Trapped in your chest was a deep sigh; you didn’t want to think about your mother. It felt like she had done nothing but push you to your limits as of lately. Constantly claiming that your magic “wasn’t performing at its peak.”, That you “should train more,” —no, even MORE than that, that you should only be training. The ever-lingering pressure to perform and perform well, lest you don’t come up to par with your mother’s expectations, it was starting to get ridiculous. “Seriously Y/n, are you even trying? If you don’t start taking training seriously—” You quickly shoved the memory away violently.

The little device was hastily shoved into your clutch, along with the unpleasant memory. Your eyes closed as the subconscious habit of twisting your ring came in full swing. You did it mostly when nervous, but every so often it would give off a calming effect—and per usual, it served to ground your racing heart in the here and now.

This place was your safe haven. You didn’t want to mar its charm by thinking of that hateful woman who did nothing but dampen your spirits. Just as you were opening your eyes after building up your resolve, one of the baristas called out, “Spiced Red Velvet latte!” Right on time, just the thing to completely nip these nerves in the bud as if clicking a ‘do not disturb for at least an hour’ switch.

You were so focused on your destination, hand reaching out for its prize. So focused in fact, your hand jolted and floated stiffly as your peripheral caught another hand closing in. Far closer than a stranger’s hand should be, and your eyes were blown wide, resting upon the intruder heading straight for the cup—your cup.

“Oh—”

Both of you stilled. You followed the hand up until you met the gaze of a culprit who dared to try and steal the drink you ordered every single visit! Just as quickly as you made eye contact with a pair of emerald eyes, the barista’s worried voice snagged your attention once more.

“—that’s right! Sorry, both of you ordered the spiced red velvet latte,” clarified the worker behind the counter, slowly, nervously, pulling their hand away from the fresh beverage. “The, uh, the next one will be out shortly!” They amended, turning back to concocting tasty drinks.

“Sorry! You can go ahead, I’m in no rush.”

Your gaze returned to those bright green irises. His voice was deep and soothing, offering a soft smile as he dipped his head towards your drink. Or rather, a drink whose fate laid in the hands of you both. A shared dilemma.

“Wait—wait what?”

Cue the double-take. From the drink, to those curious green eyes, right on back to the drink. Was this… Selflessness? Displayed by one who belonged to a selfish society? “You’re just letting me have it?”

Now, by no means would you ever forfeit something of yours to a human. Not even a drink mishap like this! But, what stopped you in your tracks was the lack of a rude ‘I’ll be taking this! You can wait for the next drink.’ from the stranger.

“Well, yeah, a’course. Raph prides ‘imself on bein’ respectful— ‘s good manners, too.” He was beaming with a proud grin, crossing his arms and standing with a stance that seemed all-too-heroic. The “amaze” factor of his pose was severely detracted by the gym clothes he wore. Basketball shorts and a tank top, sneakers—was this dude on a morning jog? Not the most heroic get-up.

“R.. Right..” Y/n’s eyes rested on the cup and its steam, lingering there for long enough that the drink’s twin had been completed and slid out on the counter, metaphorically framed by the worker chirping, “Another spiced red velvet latte, for here!”

The gears in your head were turning, still frozen by the smallest gesture, far too small for anyone else, but that meant so much more to you. This is a sign, echoed a thought. As he took his drink, you couldn’t have missed him doing a victorious fist to the air and muttering “You still got it, big guy! The precious drink has been secured.” The whimsical nature of the whole interaction had your hand moving before anything could be thought through enough, driven by a single fear. Pushing your hand, the fear begged you, as though letting this one leave here and now would become the biggest regret of your life.

“Wait,”

You nearly whispered the word, feeling an uncharacteristic thump in your chest as those same green hues turned and locked with your own shaky eyes.

“Someone who loves Sugar n’Spice’s spiced red velvet lattes as much as I do, th-that’s hard to find. ‘Cause, y’know what they say, it’s too much sugar and spice.”

“It’s too much sugar n’spice.”

Laughter brought the two together within seconds as the realization that they said the same thing at the same time set in. Y/n’s nerves dissolved—and to be frank, so did this particular stranger’s, not that you would know that.

A shaky invitation was proposed, asking him if he’d like to sit together and share company. With a toothy smile and a nod, the two sat at her claimed table, humming at the clinks the cups made when their bottoms met the polished redwood of the café tables. Just before either could start conversation, one of the old ladies across the room gasped dramatically loud. Y/n would have looked over, had it not been for the man in front of her quickly covering up the scene with a cough and interjection.

“So!”

His voice cracked, seeming to choke on a bit of unease as your eyes returned to him.

“Ya gotta be a regular, too, then?”

“Yes—what gave it away?”

Y/n inquired, taken aback by such a bizarre deduction. Seriously, what gave it away? She glanced at her drink, her seat, and then to the board. The evidence revealed itself before he continued.

“These drinks ‘ave long since been taken off the menu, but they still serve ‘em for the few regulars who knew about it.”

The happy trill he gave upon sipping the hot drink further lowered your guard as you leaned into your hand. The little voice in your head placed its imaginary hands on your shoulders, leaning into your ear with an ecstatic ‘maybe this one’s a good human? say, don’tcha think nice humans exist? there’s the owners of sugar n’spice, so can’t there be others !!?’

“Quite the observant eye you have, sirrrr… Raph” Dragging out the last word until the name came back to you, the same one he said earlier. You were banking on that having been a third-person-speaking moment as opposed to him giving the name of an absentee.

“Raph,” He nodded in confirmation, to which you dipped your head with him, copying his nod.

“And your name?”

“Oh, it’s Y/n.” Your voice spoke sheepishly, wondering why it had taken you so long to say so.

“Issa lovely name, and a pleasure to meet ‘cha!”His smile was so warm and comforting that you let go of the embarrassment swirling around your head, heating your cheeks. Play it off as being from your drink’s steam, that’ll work! Go on, a little ‘shoooo’ to the maroon-red liquid before taking the lightest sip. Ah, it’s still too hot.

“How long ‘ve you been a patron?”

The friendly human asked in order to continue the conversation. This had a tiny smile appearing on your face. You almost couldn’t remember the first time you stumbled into SnS. You blew out a winded raspberry.

“It’s been a good long while..” Pondering hums reverberated from within as your hands lifted the drink once more in a contemplative sip. This was your first year at Eastlaird, so that …plus a couple of years more, Ah!

“Around 3 or 4 years,”

The cup’s bottom tapped the tabletop with a light clink. Ever since you had found one of the more far-off gateways from the Hidden City to the topside, your nose had followed the sweet aroma of coffee. Now every time you snuck away from your mother, you made sure to squeeze a stop here into the schedule. Fortunately for you, sneaking away was one of your specialties, thus your regular status at said coffeehouse.

“Well Raphs been grabbin’ a drink here for 5 or so years!”

The huma— Raph, added after you finished. You wondered internally how miraculous it was that neither of you had run into each other before.

…

…….

Silence filled up the space around you both. Though the conversation had reached a momentary halt, Raph caught himself lingering on a potential topic. Should he bring up Eastlaird? It was an overheard tidbit from the exchange between you and the employee at the register. But, how could he phrase it without sounding like a bit of a creep for eavesdropping in the first place? He glanced up from his glass to find you staring out of the window. Head angled slightly upwards as though captivated by something, and so his own gaze curiously followed yours to the bright blue sky.

Nothing particularly interesting nor impressive stuck out to him. It was just an ordinary sky—not exactly a clear sky, an occasional cloud would make it’s gradual trek across the expanse—, but as his eyes came back to you, it seemed your eyes saw something else in the overhead canvas. A soft smile graced your lips as your eyes affectionately soaked up the view. Maybe it was the strokes of light morning pinks and golden yellows streaking across the canvas. Or it might have been the dashes of clouds, like stretched-out cotton clouds, pinned to the board for depth. Something about this thing that Raph had seen every day yet never truly seen, the twinkle in your eyes had him taking another look. The atmosphere between the two of you opened up to him as he began to realize the position he was in.

Here, at a table for two, with a lady as pretty as you. Deceiving you, disguised and still daring to watch fondly at this vulnerable smile you gave. You were the perfect picture of someone who saw a world he didn’t, and that very thing was leaving a sour pit in his chest. Raph immediately looked down at his drink, taking another swig, but this time the sweet drink left a bitter aftertaste. Everything he did sounded louder to his ears—picking the cup up, swallowing the latte, placing it back down. He was suddenly all too aware of every action he made. How couldn’t he be? Look at you, so well put-together and serene, and here he was making a blunder of the whole conversation. You went out of your way to invite him, and his thanks to that was uninteresting small-talk.

Raph suddenly felt…

Boring.

…

The gap in the conversation only seemed to widen as the two of you both scavenged for the next topic. It was an understatement to say it was humiliating to you—inviting a stranger, who was a human also, don’t forget that very important bit, and then proceeding to give them the driest conversation in existence?

You took the pause as a chance to take in your delightful beverage, and it seemed he had the same idea. As the rays of sunlight filtered in through the bay window beside your table, framed by decorative brown curtains made of the silkiest fabric and lined with gauzy trim, you both had your spirits raised as you bask in warmth and contentment brought at the sweet and refreshing sting of the beloved lattes. As true to their name, the delicate blend of sugar and spice displayed a masterful dance upon your tongue. It was just the kind of drink to set you at ease and clear your head entirely, so much so that you found yourself needing to place the glass down gently and excuse yourself to the bathroom.

A splash or two met your face, dragging you out of the vulnerable trance that the latte left you in.

Think about it, you are sharing a table with someone you hate. Well, not him personally, but his people! They treated your folks so poorly, shunning and belittling them. Don’t even think for a second that your community had forgotten the witch trials!

But, the little voice in your head interjected. This is someone showing us something different. Surely you see that, right? He is yet another example of a good human, and there has to be more, Y/n, you know it deep down!

And just like that, Y/n could feel herself slowly turning back to thoughts she once had as a child—all because of this, this!

This guy. Something about him was making her falter on the hatred her mother ingrained in her. Something about him was making this soldier fall out of line…

And back at the table, that someone was almost disturbing those around him with how his leg was bouncing. A ding from his phone made his knee instantly knock against the table, spilling some of the liquid in his drink-twin’s cup. Begin the panic! Napkin after wadded napkin built up on the table as Raph worked to clean up the spill as best as he could, almost going so far as to pour some of his in to make up for the bit lost. Alas, some restraint was exercised while checking the notification that started this whole debacle to begin with.

It was from a certain nosy brother, texting for “the deets“ of what was going on.

Agitated, he turned to the old ladies at the window who instantly—DESPERATELY—looked everywhere else, pretending they weren’t just boring holes into the back of his head.

“Knock it off, you two! I will not be giving you the ‘deets!‘ So stay out of it—you’re throwing me off”

Raph turned back after having whisper-shouted to the ‘ladies’. No, scratch that, to the not-so-dearest brothers clad in blue and purple who took to elderly human disguises. Why, you may ask? To keep an eye on their brother who was currently trying out a mystic cloaking prototype.

As he leaned into the palm of his hand, huffing and twiddling with the delicate chain around his neck, Raph thought back on what led up to him being here, his special café, with THEM, his meddling little brothers. His human thumb ran across the twinkling ruby as it gave off a magical glow.

So, roll back the cameras—back before you strolled through the door.

Raph had a rather awkward entrance. By no means had he fibbed about frequenting here for the past five years, but there was a crucial detail left out.

This was the first day that he came in with so little clothes.

Not like that, no, I mean that he usually only ventures into the human’s stores and public spaces in get-ups that had him sticking out like a sore thumb. Like seriously, who wears scarves, hats, masks, and coats in summer and spring? But today, clad with a magical item, he was just a normal human being. Normal humans had the privilege of not melting themselves under radiating suns from seasonally-inappropriate disguises. They also held the privilege of getting their drink ‘for here’ instead of ‘to-go.’

And boy was he grateful for that on this day specifically.

See, when he had his antsy, awkward encounter with the barista minutes before you came in, he had been all-too-prepared to grumpily seat himself with the odd old ladies. He had even encouraged himself, “Alright Raph, you got this!” before making a complete fool of himself.

“Raph would like to buy one spiced red velvet latte, thank you….”

He and the worker exchanged glances for a few moments. Nobody could miss the quirked eyebrow they gave at his approach. Recovering from the oddity, they typed away on their device then wordlessly stared up at him. Raph felt that there was something to be done now, as though their eyes were conveying a ‘Well? Go on?’ message. Come on, Raphie, you’ve done this a million times over, why now do you blank out?

“And uh… Where does he pay..?”

Raph added, giving an apologetic smile to the poor worker whose face almost read as ‘this isn’t the normalest customer service experience I’ve had, but it definitely isn’t the worst.’ They gestured to the card reader, adding a low, confused “here, sir.”

After he then fumbled with his card, Raph finally paid and made his way to the pick-up counter. Not so bad.. definitely could do better. Nonetheless, he was brimming with pride from configuring how to order, as a human. He rocked back n’forth on his heels, only coming to a standstill when his attention gravitated towards the baristas working fluidly. Down he came from all the jittery nerves of talking to a human, especially while in a rather comfortable outfit, perfected with the stylish mutant-cloaking necklace! Raph almost started fiddling with the golden chain yet again, this time out of grateful thank yous to the inanimate jewelry piece.

But he held himself back, hands shifting down into his pockets. Donnie had told him plenty of times to, “refrain from touching it.” Which, fair, it was a prototype, and Raph was sure he would need to permanently avoid this place if he shifted back in front of all these people! Or, well, all the workers. Not really a busy place when you’re quite literally a hidden gem. Needless to say, he was only halfway aware of his surroundings when the door chimed. A bell rang out and in walked a figure wearing his favorite color.

Now the color alone would always catch his eye, but the reason he lingered was solely because of her. First, he started at the sandals. Awfully pretty, especially with how they wrapped up and around her calves. Raph could never pull that off, he concluded mentally. Next, his gaze continued to climb, taking in the red dress. The way it—

He blinked and began chiding himself for staring so blatantly. It wasn’t polite! Raph’s eyes darted back to the front and center, aimlessly looking at the menu he may or may not have known well enough to not even look. Away his gaze went, searching for yet another sight to focus on. Ah, right, he noticed the baristas had yet to start on his drink, which he didn’t mind, he wasn’t in a rush for anything more than a normal thing to look at for as long as needed without being creepy. A sign, a table, even a chip in the floors! But all too quickly he found his eyes roaming back to her. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail; although, a few pesky strands must have been bothering her because occasionally her swift hand moved to brush them right back behind her ear.

His phone buzzed, bringing him back from his staring trance once again. It was the perfect opportunity to distract himself, and so when he glanced at the notification, the last thing he wanted to see was a notification from Leo. Raph held in an eye roll as he read, ‘Staring quite hard there, brother of mine’ He promptly let his phone slip back into the pockets of his basketball shorts, leaving the message on delivered.

Though he did lull his head towards the two elderly dressed women in one corner of the coffeehouse, giving the one clad in blue a hard stare that read his reply, Shut up. Raph knew full well he was guilty of the accused crime, staring. Didn’t mean he wanted or needed to be called out by his very annoying little brother, and it definitely didn’t help that Leo had a smug face despite the ridiculous amount of makeup he had on. “Gotta look the part!” Leo’s voice echoed in Raph’s head from earlier this morning, as Leo somehow forced Donnie to put on the makeup as well. They looked absurd, and Raph was thankful for the cloaking necklace now more than ever.

Still, Raph found his gaze trailing back to you so much that he dragged his hands down his face, stretching and groaning out, low and exhausted. It wasn’t till the call for a “Spiced red velvet latte!” broke his trance enough that he sluggishly moved over. Like a crescendo, his energy came back with each step until he reached for his drink with a polite nod to the barista. Their shocked look and follow-up sentence was what brought his eyes elsewhere. Down to the cup.

The hand he recognized much-too-quickly stiffly hovered near, and her gaze was a mixture of an unknown emotion and pure confusion. He, too, stiffened up as though meeting the eyes of Medusa herself. Gosh, she’s even prettier up close, a side-tracked thought said, only for him to recoil his rude hand and gesture to the drink. He was apologizing before your gaze could shift into anything that may have ached his heart, following it up with insisting you take the drink. He could wait! Whatever you were saying next was muffled as he found himself entirely entranced, answering in automated sentences that may or may not have been prepared, had he found himself locked in small talk with a human.

So, to break the trance, he accepted the next identical latte handed to him and turned, quick to flee the scene. That is, until the spell knocked up a notch with your hand on him, inviting him to sit.

And that is exactly how he got into this position: sipping his latte as he watched you come back over to your rightful seat, having left the lavatory. All while trying his best to look like a normal person who definitely did not make some of your drink rock out of its mug a second ago. No, not him. Totally. He’s innocent.

“Sorry! I was, er… Splashing my face. To do away with some sleepiness…”

Raph nodded, taking another sip of his drink that had since cooled down. Did he look guilty? Was he playing it off? He choked up on the sweet liquid upon your next statement.

“Whuh—it’s sticky, did you spill something?”

Curiosity and a bit of wariness swirled in your eyes as they bore through him, begging for an answer. He was caught red-handed, entirely so. All he could do was admit his crime, a sigh slipping his lips as he gave an ashamed look to the left like a regretful puppy-dog.

“I was hopin’ I’d cleaned up alla mess ‘fore ya got back. I had some nervous jitters and knocked the table.. Sorry, Y/n..”

There was yet another one of those uncharacteristic thumps in your chest when his eyes met yours, pleading forgiveness. Rather than the usual bitterness settling in your chest, you found yourself a tad bit more patient towards this special boy. Your cheeks flushed, emitting a heat soothed by the cool side of your hand pressing against it with an even more uncharacteristic stammering.

“Y-You’re fine.. Thank you, for the honesty and clearing the mess.”

The next bout of silence was less awkward and more-so dizzying—in a good way. It fluttered your heart and felt welcoming. As the last bit of your drink passed your lips and settled inside, filling you with blissful comfort, you held out a hand for his empty mug. Perhaps a change of heart would do you some good—a kind gesture returned for someone who truly deserved none of your hatred. His eyes met yours, quickly understanding as he stood and passed the cup to you. This moment was coming to an end, and somehow that made your eyes sting for a moment. It was almost as if a tear was threatening you to prolong it as the ceramics were placed upon their respective ‘for-washing’ pedestals at the disposal corner.

“Well, Raph… it was nice meeting you.”

“Likewise.”

His smile had you considering an option you would never ever do. Your mind strayed to where your phone was, itching to ask this boy a certain question. Together, you both walked out of the café—and again, you missed how the two old ladies were practically becoming the window with how hard they pressed to the glass, nosily watching.

The morning sun was still bright in the sky, shining through clouds in a way that almost spotlighted you guys as you gathered the courage to ask! Turning to face him, you bit the bullet and opened your mouth!

“Could we exch—IRK!”

Y/n lurched forwards when someone knocked into her in a fashion that just couldn’t have been played off as an accident. Thankfully she had bumped straight into Raph (and tried desperately to ignore how nice his chest felt), but the draining, nauseating feeling that began quickly washing over was enough to raise alarms.

And she knew the exact cause. It wasn’t the closeness to a human or the lack of an “excuse me” or “sorry” for shoving her. No, there was another, far more important cause to the sickness tightening. Y/n raised her dominant hand, holding her clutch and finding that a special ring was no longer wrapped around her finger. Of the things to have taken, had this one thing seemed much more important than a literal wallet?!

“The nerve of some people! He totally meant th—Y/n, whoa, ya look pale! Are you okay?”

His hand instinctually made contact with you, brushing some stray hairs away from your face as you had done a few times earlier.

“Th-That guy, he—thief, he took my-my!”

You held your hand, twirling air around where a ring once was. Raph blanked for a second, thinking you had meant something to do with your clutch, but as his eyes zeroed in on the light prints of an absent ring, it suddenly all made sense to Raph. A rushed “What? Wait here,” was muttered before he was quickly pursuing the thief. All while leaving you against the outside walls of the café.

You watched Raph’s figure leave. A heavy exhale clawed itself from your chest. How foolish! You had been so caught up in thought—about asking for Raph’s number, that you had allowed someone to get so close. Too close, right into your personal space, and completely able to swipe your ring.

That small piece of jewelry was dearer to you than anything else you owned. It was what contained your power, or rather, what kept it in control. Without it, you were a hazard who started leaking mystic energy immediately. Red sparks crackling around your eyes when you were pushed.

Just seconds from a potential disaster, but somehow it was Raph’s voice that snapped you out of it. You couldn’t lose control here in front of the one place you swore to protect from your evil. You wouldn’t lose control in front of him. So when you barely explained with a shaky voice and he quickly sprung into action, leaving you, there was relief swirling around. This was a good thing. You’d rather him not be around to witness if you couldn’t maintain a firm grip on your power. Not him. Okay, try to distract yourself. Control, think about anything else, anything but your magic right now.

Oh, right! He had held you!

The thought struck you so fiercely your cheeks heated to the same shade as your dress. The warmth of his arms holding you lingered. Even just remembering the feel of his broad chest had you utterly distracted. And it hadn’t stopped there! He had brushed your hair away from your face, his fingers so careful and gentle. That type of touch was quite foreign to you. It had you blushing even more furiously than before—if that was even possible. Your eyes never left Raph’s back until he dashed out of view into an alleyway.

…

As soon as Raph had seen your expression twist and realized you had been wronged, it was like his body moved before his brain could catch up. The perpetrator had sped up into a jog, after hearing Y/n call out “thief.”

Luckily there weren't that many people crowding the sidewalks this morning. Especially since this part of the city wasn't as advertised. Raph’s green eyes tracked the punk as he dodged into an alleyway. He pushed himself faster, shrinking any chances of this guy getting away right on down to zero. Maybe even into the negatives if he tried hard enough,

Fate was on Raph’s side, as is befitting of the hero, because he slowed to a stop to find the petty criminal glaring at the dead end before him. The universe was practically handing this criminal over to Raph in a cute little red bow right now.

“Alright felon, hand back the stolen ring.”

His voice was rough and commanding. Above all else, he despised those who preyed on the weak. Criminal acts like these deserved a good beating, but Raph was willing to compromise on that if this perp coughed up the ring without making things difficult.

“Back up, hero!”

The cornered thief sneered as he brandished a knife, waving it threateningly.

Raph couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped. If only this guy knew! Raph and his brothers faced weapons tenfold more menacing on every patrol. He doubted such a dull thing could even pierce his shell. For a second, he toyed with the thought of taking off the cloaking necklace. Showing his true form. This punk looked like the type to wet himself, and the slight trembling in his hand that wielded such a crude weapon didn’t go unnoticed by Big Raphie.

“They always wanna do it the hard way,”

Raph murmured, shaking his head as he moved forward. This guy was sorely underestimating him. It was comical! Raph ended up wondering if his human form, despite its size, just wasn’t all that intimidating. That would be new to him. So Raph opted for using this to his advantage. After all, he may look big, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t fast, and what was more rewarding than proving wrong the criminal foolish enough to underestimate the Raphael Hamato?

The crook hardly got a second to blink before he was sprawled out on the ground, clutching his gut as he dragged in wounded breaths. Securely in Raph’s palm rested a wooden ring, Y/n’s ring. It had a band of red jewels inside that glimmered brightly even though the alleyway was covered in shadows. He smiled to himself, it seemed as though you really liked this color. His color.

Yet another thing the two of you had in common, other than drinks. How much more did the two of you share interest in?. He wanted—no, needed—to find out.

Now Raph was sure he had held back on his punches, but it was painfully obvious this culprit was struggling to even stand. I see no issue with him turning his back on a downed enemy, do you? Was that overkill? No? Maybe? Who’s here to judge him, honestly?

“Next time, think twice before stealing from a pretty lady.”

He growled over his shoulder before starting up a run back to you. Raph hoped he hadn’t taken too long as he tried to move just a little faster to get back to your side.

Since having been left by Raph, you were finding each second to be harder and harder to restrain the burst of overflowing magic. Thoughts and distractions could only take you so far before fizzling out. Just as you were your mother’s vessel for revenge, that ring was your vessel for magic—a conduit, even. Others would even call it your arcane focus.

Bottomline was, without it, you could barely handle the destructive force pinballing around within. It seems the state you were in was so worrying that the two elderly ladies from the cafe came out, frantically bickering in harsh whispers that were all too muffled in your ears.

Was it getting hot in here, or was it just you? Anyone else? Just you? Alright. Your body pressed harder into the cafe’s brick walls, soothed by the coolness they held. Your head was spinning, with worry and desperation. Was this area hidden enough to attract more danger? Had you really been so foolish as to leave yourself open in prime human territory? Hell, what if this was all an elaborate trick and that thief was actually in cahoots with Raph, and vice versa?

But, what if these are all just your delirious, panicked thoughts? Remember the little voice, the one beckoning hope. She wants to believe humans are good. She wants to believe Raph is good.

You want to believe humans are good, don’t you? How did that one saying go, the one about how even the smallest things can cause the biggest changes? However it went, it seemed this Raph human might have been your smallest thing, creating this ripple of thoughts in your head.

Or, again, maybe that’s the delirium.

You had almost entirely given up on the last bits of hope for Raph being good when finally you saw his silhouette running back to you. He had the widest grin on his face, waving your focus in the air and calling out “Y/n! I got it, ya don’t gotta worry!”

You weren’t sure when the ladies had left, but when he slowed down in front of you and took your hand, you couldn’t help but notice you were all alone.

Old humans were… strange.

Color returned to your skin, the plummeting left your chest, and your tremors ceased as the polished wooden ring slid back into its rightful place upon your hand.

“Th-Thank you…”

You breathed out, allowing yourself to press into him once again with your senses returning faster than you were capable of handling with a straight face. Your forehead rested against his chest as the overflowing energy was being vacuumed right on back to the ring, leaving you far more winded than any training session with Mother had done.

“It’s no problem, Y/n… This ring must be really important to have you this… Upset…”

His voice was softer than it had been during your talks inside. There was obvious concern and worry laced in it. Such kindness was nearly unrecognizable to you, so forgive the temporary dependence on it.

“More than you know, Raph..”

You replied, rubbing the ring so that it twirled around your skin—a nervous habit that Raph took notice to almost immediately. Forgive him, as well, for the heightened attention he had on you right now. A fond smile settled upon his lips as something came back to him suddenly.

“About your question a moment ago, before… well, this. Sure.”

“What?”

You looked up, confused by what he meant. The smile he gave you was enough to put even more hope in your head, eroding the grime and muck that poisoned you, beckoning you deeper to the villainous pits.

“T’exchange numbers, right? That was what ya almost asked?”

Oh! You had completely forgotten that part. Straightening up and taking a coy step back from him, you pulled your cellular from a pocket in your dress (because, really, what villain wears a dress without pockets? never you, of course) and handed it to him with bashful joy.

After the exchange, you both waved your goodbyes, then turned your adoring gaze to the contact in your phone.

𝘙𝘢𝘱𝘩𝘢𝘦𝘭 (𝘚𝘙𝘝 𝘓𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦 𝘛𝘸𝘪𝘯)

（1）𝘟𝘟𝘟－𝘟𝘟𝘟－𝘟𝘟𝘟𝘟

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mechanicalsquid · 1 year ago

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just watched Nimona and can I just say it's *chef's kiss*. the clear queerness of Ballister and Ambrosious from the very beginning, no hiding it or hinting that it exists, and how they navigate their relationship throughout the course of the narrative. struggling to trust one another and questioning what they mean to each other while being pitted against each other by the system. the trans/nonbinary interpretation of Nimona (whether intentional or not) and how (like trans/nonbinary/queer people) she just wants to live her life but everyone else can only see her as a monster, society twisting and shaping history to benefit everyone else and convincing everyone that She is the one to fear. and also the way that her rage is shown! her rage and anger are real and justified, and it almost becomes a vicious cycle where people are scared of her because of her destruction, but she causes havoc because she's angry that people are afraid of her no matter how hard she tries to be good, so then she plays into that role and decides that if people view her as a monster and that's all they see her as, she might as well be the scariest monster out there and give them a reason to be scared. and breaking that cycle is sooo hard but sometimes all you need is one other person to look at you and believe that you're a good person. and the art and animation are phenomenal! so many little details, like the way her eyes catch the light and you can see fire reflected in them. the whole thing is just so good

#nimona #spoilers #loved this movie sooo much im going to have to watch it a couple more times #we love an inherently queer film that touches on so many different intricacies #queer #transgender #nonbinary #sqyd speaks

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marwhoa · 2 years ago

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request: N/A

🝮 “ cherrypie prequel: sugar n’spice ”

rise!raph x villain!female!reader

author’s note: how long’s it been since cherrypie was posted??? a month? Well, here we are with another part!! this one is the prequel ( one of them 👀 ) and my first series! well, first series being actively posted. be sure to check out @tmntxthings and give them lovin’ on their post too! we both wrote this together. literally. Challenge style again!!!

word count: 6.9k (hehe, nice)

Through one of the very few quiet streets of the city, a hand emerges from the wall. Around it glitters magenta sparks, twinkling as an entire body follows through it. As dazzling an entrance as that was, this particular stranger happened to be dressed simply. A plain, ruffled, scarlet dress with a billowing skirt, accented by the pair of matching sandals wrapping up her calves, and tied together by a red clutch-purse as its accentuating piece. “ Plain-jane “ blinked away a crackle of red magic that was quite literally drawn into a ring upon her finger. Small bits of arcane energy surged in, bouncing erratically beneath the clear film protecting ruby crystals inside—all until the last twinkle blipped into the vacuum.

Luckily, this lass wasn’t here to dine on the sidewalk picnic style—no, no, she was here for a special café that was quite literally the hidden gem beaten off the path. Had it not been for her frequenting, it likely wouldn’t be able to stay open. THAT is just how out of the way it was. Alright, that may have been blown out of proportion, but Y/N couldn’t care less as she and her temporarily-inflated self-importance pushed through the doors. Immediately she was woken up by the soothing hold of coffee grinds and baked goods. They cradled her, placing energizing kisses upon both cheeks.

A barista greeted the door’s chiming bell with a cheerful good morning and “ Welcome to Sugar n’Spice! “.

Giving a curt “ excuse me ” as you navigated around the impatient man, you swallowed the bitterness upon your tongue for these humans who had the privilege to be here, topside, all day, any day. Hold back that discontent, for there is one important rule! A personally appointed exception, specially made for Sugar n’Spice: this place was divine enough to escape your witchy wrath. Show utmost respect by refraining from the usual “ Hidden City Dweller seething at the humans ”. You could do that anywhere but here. This place was the holy land. The heavenly pinnacle of coffee—the SACRED LAN—

“ Ma’am …? “

The barista tilted their head towards you playfully as that increasingly bizarre inner monologue settled abruptly. The distractions were waved off by a shaking of your noggin and an apologetic smile.

“ Sorry! Caught up with something—could I get the spiced Red Velvet latte? Please. “

Your lips shifted into a patient smile as the barista practically sighed in relief, hand on their chest as they muttered “ much more normal than that last customer “ under their breath. You quirked an eyebrow at this but quickly rested your features. Humans complained too much for folks that—no! No, no, Y/N, quit it. The rule, remember the rule!

“ Oh! Also, can I do the student discount? I’m an Eastlaird student. “

There was a missed opportunity as three of the occupants in the room perked up upon hearing that name; alas, your attention was instead fixated on your red clutch. You unlatched it swiftly and dug out two cards: one to show to the barista, the ID, and the second to pay for the meal, the debit card. The animated worker leaned in, nodded at the little plastic, and took off some of the charge via the “ Sugar n’Spice’s Nice Discount “. With just one swipe of a debit card and a little wave after the machine’s little “ doot ! “, you were all ready to go and await your beloved order. Your seeking eyes gazed all around the room in search of a table to claim until landing fondly upon a small two-seater. There, in the corner opposite of the old ladies and other waiting humans, was a perfectly empty space. Morning sun rays seemed to illuminate a chair for you to sit in, whispering a “ come here to enjoy the one thing humans were able to do right, dear! “

NOTIFICATION

You have one new message.

———————————————————

➤ MOTHER sent now

Where are you?

———————————————————

But, Sugar n’Spice cafe… this was one of the only human-made delights you had…

Surely that granted you one little “ cross my heart “ secret kept, right?

Trapped in your chest was a deep sigh; you didn’t want to think about your mother. It felt like she had done nothing but push you to your limits as of lately. Constantly claiming that your magic “ wasn’t performing at its peak. ”, that you “ should train more, “—no, even MORE than that, that you should only be training. The ever-lingering pressure to perform and perform well, lest you don’t come up to par with your mother’s expectations, it was starting to get ridiculous. “ Seriously Y/N, are you even trying? If you don’t start taking training seriously—” You quickly shooed away that memory violently.

The little device was hastily shoved into your clutch, taking with it the unpleasant memory. Your eyes closed as the subconscious habit of twisting your ring came in full swing. You did it mostly when nervous, but every so often it would give off a calming effect—and per usual, it served to ground your racing heart in the here and now.

This place was your safe haven. You didn’t want to mar its charm by thinking of that hateful woman who did nothing but dampen your spirits. Just as you were opening your eyes after building up your resolve, one of the baristas called out, “ Spiced Red Velvet latte! ” Right on time, just the thing to completely nip these nerves in the bud as if clicking a “ do not disturb for at least an hour “ switch.

Or so you thought. You were so focused on your destination, hand reaching out for its prize. So focused in fact, your hand jolted and floated stiffly as your peripheral caught another hand closing in. Far closer than a stranger’s hand should be, and your eyes were blown wide, resting upon the intruder heading straight for the cup—your cup.

“ Oh—”

Both of you stilled. You followed the hand up until you met the gaze of a culprit who dared to try and steal the drink you ordered every. single. visit! Just as quickly as you made eye contact with a pair of emerald eyes, the barista’s worried voice snagged your attention once more.

“ —that’s right! Sorry, both of you ordered the spiced red velvet latte, ”

Clarified the worker behind the counter who had already began slowly, nervously, pulling their hand away from the fresh beverage.

“ The, uh, the next one will be out shortly! ”

They amended, turning back to concocting tasty drinks.

…

“ Sorry! You can go ahead, I’m in no rush. ”

Your gaze returned to those bright green irises surprisingly quick. His voice was deep and somehow soothing, offering a soft smile as he dipped his head towards your drink. Or rather, a drink whose fate laid in the hands of you both. A shared dilemma.

“ Wait—wait what? “

Cue the double-take. Look at the drink, now at those curious green eyes, and right on back to the drink. Was this… Selflessness? Displayed by one who belonged to a selfish society?

“ You’re just letting me have it? “

Now, by no means would you ever forfeit something of yours to a human. Not even a drink mishap like this! But, what stopped you in your tracks was the lack of a rude “ I’ll be taking this! You can wait for the next drink. “ from the stranger.

“ Well, yeah, a’course. Raph prides ‘imself on bein’ respectful— ‘s good manners, too. “

He was beaming with a proud grin, crossing his arms and standing with a stance that seemed all-too-heroic.

The “ amaze ” factor of his pose was severely detracted by the gym clothes he wore. Basketball shorts and a tank top, sneakers—was this dude on a morning jog? Not the most heroic get-up.

“ R.. Right.. “

Y/N’s eyes rested on the cup and its steam, lingering there for long enough that the drink’s twin had been completed and slid out on the counter, metaphorically framed by a different worker chirping, “ Another spiced red velvet latte, for here! “

The gears in your head were turning, still frozen by the smallest gesture, far too small for anyone else, but that meant so much more to you. This is a sign, echoed a thought. As he took his drink, you couldn’t have missed him doing a victorious fist to the air and muttering “ You still got it, big guy! The precious drink has been secured. ” The whimsical nature of the whole interaction had your hand moving before anything could be thought through enough, driven by a single fear. Pushing your hand, the fear begged you, as though letting this one leave here and now would become the biggest regret of your life.

“ Wait,”

You nearly whispered the word, feeling an uncharacteristic thump in your chest as those same green hues turned and locked with your own shaky eyes.

“ Someone who loves Sugar n’Spice’s spiced red velvet lattes as much as I do, th-that’s hard to find. ‘Cause, y’know what they say—“

“ It’s too much sugar n’spice. ”

“—it’s too much sugar and spice. ”

Laughter brought the two together within seconds as the realization that they said the same thing at the same time set in. Y/N’s nerves dissolved—and to be frank, so did this particular stranger’s, not that you would know that.

A shaky invitation was proposed, asking him if he’d like to sit together and share company. With a toothy smile and a nod, the two sat at her claimed table, humming at the clinks the cups made when their bottoms met the polished redwood of the café tables. Just before either could start conversation, one of the old ladies across the room gasped dramatically loud. Y/N would have looked over, had it not been for the man in front of her quickly covering up the scene with a cough and interjection.

“ So! “

His voice cracked, seeming to choke on a bit of unease as your eyes returned to him.

“ Ya gotta be a regular, too, then? “

“ Yes—what gave it away? “

Y/N inquired, taken aback by such a bizarre deduction. Seriously, what gave it away? She glanced at her drink, her seat, and then to the board. The evidence revealed itself before he continued.

“ These drinks ‘ave long since been taken off the menu, but they still serve ‘em for the few regulars who knew about it. “

The happy trill he gave upon sipping the hot drink further lowered your guard as you leaned into your hand. The little voice in your head placed its imaginary hands on your shoulders, leaning into your ear with an ecstatic “ maybe this one’s a good human? say, don’tcha think nice humans exist? there’s the owners of sugar n’spice, so can’t there be others !!? “

“ Quite the observant eye you have, sirrrr… Raph? “

Dragging out the last word until the name came back to you, the same one he said earlier. You were banking on that having been a third-person-speaking moment as opposed to him giving the name of an absentee.

“ Raph, “

He nodded in confirmation, to which you dipped your head with him, copying his nod.

“ And yours? “

“ Oh, it’s Y/N. “

Your voice spoke sheepishly, as a confused thought echoed “ why had it taken you this long to say so “ in your head.

“ Issa lovely name, and a pleasure to meet ‘cha! “

His smile was so warm and comforting that you let go of the embarrassment swirling around your head, heating your cheeks. Play it off as being from your drink’s steam, that’ll work! Go on, a little “ shoooo “ to the maroon-red liquid before taking the lightest sip.

Ah, it’s still too hot.

“ How long ‘ve you been a patron? “

“It’s been a good long while.. ”

Pondering hums reverberated from within as your finger tested the liquid once more, stirring contemplatively upon the drink being cool enough. This was your first year at Eastlaird, so that …plus a couple of years more, Ah!

“ Around 3 or 4 years, ”

“ Well Raphs been grabbin’ a drink here for 5 or so years! “

The huma—Raph, added after you finished. You wondered internally how miraculous it was that neither of you had run into each other before.

…

…….

Raph suddenly felt…

Boring.

…

A splash or two met your face, dragging you out of the vulnerable trance that the latte left you in.

Think about it, you are sharing a table with someone you hate.

Well, not him personally, but his people! They treated your folks so poorly, shunning and belittling them. Don’t even think for a second that your community had forgotten the witch trials!

And just like that, Y/N could feel herself slowly turning back to thoughts she once had as a child—all because of this, this!

…

This guy. Something about him was making her falter on the hatred her mother ingrained in her. Something about him was making this soldier fall out of line…

It was from a certain nosy brother, texting for “ the deets “ of what was going on.

Agitated, he turned to the old ladies at the window who instantly—DESPERATELY—looked everywhere else, pretending they weren’t just boring holes into the back of his head.

“ Knock it off, you two! I will not be giving you the ‘ deets! ‘ So stay out of it—you’re throwing me off “

Raph turned back after having whisper-shouted to the “ ladies ”. No, scratch that, to the not-so-dearest brothers clad in blue and purple who took to elderly human disguises. Why, you may ask? To keep an eye on their brother who was currently trying out a mystic cloaking prototype.

So, roll back the cameras—back before you strolled through the door.

Raph had a rather awkward entrance. By no means had he fibbed about frequenting here for the past five years, but there was a crucial detail left out.

This was the first day that he came in with so little clothes.

And boy was he grateful for that on this day specifically.

See, when he had his antsy, awkward encounter with the barista minutes before you came in, he had been all-too-prepared to grumpily seat himself with the odd old ladies. He had even encouraged himself, “ alright Raph, do it like a boss! “ before making a complete fool of himself.

“ Raph would like to buy one spiced red velvet latte, thank you…. “

He and the worker exchanged glances for a few moments. Nobody could miss the quirked eyebrow they gave at his approach. Recovering from the oddity, they typed away on their device then wordlessly stared up at him. Raph felt that there was something to be done now, as though their eyes were conveying a “ Well? Go on? “ message. Come on, Raphie, you’ve done this a million times over, why now do you blank out?

“ And uh… Where does he pay..? “

Raph added, giving an apologetic smile to the poor worker whose face almost read as “ this isn’t the normalest customer service experience I’ve had, but it definitely isn’t the worst “. They gestured to the card reader, adding a low, confused “ here, sir. “

After he then fumbled with his card, Raph finally paid and made his way to the pick-up counter. Not so bad.. definitely could do better. Nonetheless, he was brimming with pride in configuring how to order, as a human. He rocked back n’forth on his heels, only coming to a standstill when his attention gravitated towards the baristas working fluidly. Down he came from all the jittery nerves of talking to a human, especially while in a rather comfortable outfit, perfected with the stylish mutant-cloaking necklace! Raph almost started fiddling with the golden chain yet again, this time out of grateful thank yours to the inanimate jewelry piece.

But he held himself back, hands shifting down into his pockets. Donnie had swatted him plenty of times, hissing, “ refrain from touching it. “ Which, fair, it was a just a prototype, and Raph was sure he would need to permanently avoid this place if he shifted back in front of all these people! Or, well, all the workers. Not really a busy place when you’re quite literally a hidden gem. Needless to say, he was only halfway aware of his surroundings when the door chimed. A bell rang out and in walked a figure wearing his favorite color.

His phone buzzed, bringing him back from his staring trance once again. It was the perfect opportunity to distract himself, and so when he glanced at the notification, the last thing he wanted to see was a notification from Leo. Raph held in an eye roll as he read, ‘ Staring quite hard there, brother of mine ‘ He promptly let his phone slip back into the pockets of his basketball shorts, leaving the message on delivered.

Though he did lull his head towards the two elderly dressed women in one corner of the coffeehouse, giving the one clad in blue a hard stare that read his reply, Shut up. Raph knew full well he was guilty of the accused crime, staring. Didn’t mean he wanted or needed to be called out by his very annoying little brother, and it definitely didn’t help that Leo had a smug face despite the ridiculous amount of makeup he had on. “ Gotta look the part! “ Leo’s voice echoed in Raph’s head from earlier this morning, as Leo somehow forced Donnie to put on the makeup as well. They looked absurd, and Raph was thankful for the cloaking necklace now more than ever.

Still, Raph found his gaze trailing back to you so much that he dragged his hands down his face, stretching and groaning out, low and exhausted. It wasn’t till the call for a “ Spiced red velvet latte ! “ broke his trance enough that he sluggishly moved over. Like a crescendo, his energy came back with each step until he reached for his drink with a polite nod to the barista. Their shocked look and follow-up sentence was what brought his eyes elsewhere. Down to the cup.

So, to break the trance, he accepted the next identical latte handed to him and turned, quick to flee the scene.

That is, until the spell knocked up a notch with your hand on him, inviting him to sit.

“ Sorry! I was, er… Splashing my face. To do away with some sleepiness… “

Raph nodded, taking another sip of his drink that had since cooled down. Did he look guilty? Was he playing it off? He choked up on the sweet liquid upon your next statement.

“ Whuh—it’s sticky, did you spill something? “

Curiosity and a bit of spice swirled in your eyes as they bore through him, begging for an answer. He was caught red-handed, entirely so. All he could do was admit his crime, a sigh slipping his lips as he gave an ashamed look to the left like a regretful puppy-dog.

“ I was hopin’ I’d cleaned up alla mess ‘fore ya got back. I had some nervous jitters and knocked the table.. Sorry, Y/N.. “

“ Y-You’re fine.. Thank you, for the honesty and clearing the mess. “

“ Well, Raph.., it was nice meeting you. “

“ Likewise. “

His dopey smile had you considering an option you would never ever do. Your mind strayed to where your phone was, itching to ask this boy a certain question. Together, you both walked out of the café—and again, you missed how the two old ladies were practically becoming the window with how hard they pressed to the glass, nosily watching.

“ Could we exch—IRK! “

Y/N lurched forwards when someone knocked into her in a fashion that just couldn’t have been played off as an accident. Thankfully she had bumped straight into Raph ( and tried desperately to ignore how nice his chest felt ), but the draining, nauseating feeling that began quickly washing over was enough to raise alarms.

And she knew the exact cause. It wasn’t the closeness to a human or the lack of an “ excuse me ” or “ sorry ” for shoving her. No, there was another, far more important cause to the sickness tightening. Y/N raised her dominant hand, holding her clutch and finding that a special ring was no longer wrapped around her finger. Of the things to have taken, had this one thing seemed much more important than a literal wallet?!

“ The nerve of some people! He totally meant th—Y/N, whoa, ya look pale! Are you okay? “

His hand instinctually made contact with you, brushing some stray hairs away from your face as you had done a few times earlier.

“ Th-That guy, he—thief, he took my-my! “

You held your hand, twirling air around where a ring once was. Raph blanked for a second, thinking you had meant something to do with your clutch, but as his eyes zeroed in on the light prints of an absent ring, it suddenly all made sense to Raph. A rushed “ What? Wait here. “ was muttered before he was quickly pursuing the thief. All while leaving you against the outside walls of the café.

Oh, right! He had held you!

…

As soon as Raph had seen your expression twist and realized you had been wronged, it was like his body moved before his brain could catch up. The thief had sped up into a jog, after hearing Y/N call out ‘ thief. ‘

Luckily there weren't that many people crowding the sidewalks this morning. Especially since this part of the city wasn't as advertised. Raph’s green eyes tracked the punk as he dodged into an alleyway. He pushed himself faster, shrinking any chances of this guy getting away right on down to 0. Maybe even into the negatives if he tried hard enough,

“ Alright felon, hand back the stolen ring. “

“ Back up, hero! “

The cornered thief sneered as he brandished a knife, waving it threateningly.

“ They always wanna do it the hard way, “

Raph murmured in a chilling tone, shaking his head as he moved forward. This guy was sorely underestimating him. It was comical! Raph ended up wondering if his human form, despite its size, just wasn’t all that intimidating. That would be new to him. So Raph opted for using this to his advantage. After all, he may look big, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t fast, and what was more rewarding than proving wrong the criminal foolish enough to underestimate the Raphael Hamato?

The crook hardly got a second to blink before he was sprawled out on the ground, clutching his gut as he dragged in wounded breaths. Securely in Raph’s palm rested a wooden ring, Y/N’s ring. It had a band of red jewels inside that glimmered brightly even though the alleyway was covered in shadows. He smiled to himself, it seemed as though you really liked this color. His color.

Yet another thing the two of you had in common, other than drinks. How much more did the two of you share interest in?. He wanted—no, needed—to find out.

Now Raph was sure he had held back on his punches, but it was painfully obvious this culprit was struggling to even stand.

…

I see no issue with him turning his back on a downed enemy, do you? Was that overkill? No? Maybe? Who’s here to judge him, honestly?

“ Next time, think twice before stealing from a pretty lady. “

He growled over his shoulder before starting up a run back to you. Raph hoped he hadn’t taken too long as he tried to move just a little faster to get back to your side.

But, what if these are all just your delirious, panicked thoughts? Remember the little voice, the one beckoning hope. She wants to believe humans are good. She wants to believe Raph is good.

Or, again, maybe that’s the delirium.

You weren’t sure when the ladies had left, but when he slowed down in front of you and took your hand, you couldn’t help but notice you were all alone.

Old humans were… strange.

Color returned to your skin, the plummeting left your chest, and your tremors ceased as the polished wooden ring slid back into its rightful place upon your hand.

“ Th-Thank you… “

You breathed out, allowing yourself to press into him once again with your senses returning faster than youwere capable of handling with a straight face. Your forehead rested against his chest as the overflowing energy was being vacuumed right on back to the ring, leaving you far more winded than any training session with Mother had done.

“ It’s no problem, Y/N… This ring must be really important to have you this… Upset… “

“ More than you know, Raph.. “

“ About your question a moment ago, before… well, this. Sure. “

“ What? “

“ T’exchange numbers, right? That was what ya almost asked? “

Oh! You had completely forgotten that part. Straightening up and taking a coy step back from him, you pulled your cellular from a pocket in your dress ( because, really, what villain wears a dress without pockets? never you, of course. ) and handed it to him with bashful joy.

After the exchange, you both waved your goodbyes, then turned your adoring gaze to the contact in your phone.

NEW CONTACT!

𝘙𝘢𝘱𝘩𝘢𝘦𝘭 (𝘚𝘙𝘝 𝘓𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦 𝘛𝘸𝘪𝘯)

↳（1）𝘟𝘟𝘟－𝘟𝘟𝘟－𝘟𝘟𝘟𝘟

taggies !! thou hast requested a messenger pigeon to deliver the holy texts upon their fabrication.

💌 ;; ﹝ @saspas-corner , @thatonerandomsimpinthecorner , @brunnetteiwik ﹞

#rise raph x y/n #rise raphael x reader #rise raph x reader #Raph x reader #Raphael x reader #tmnt x reader #rottmnt x reader #rottmnt raph x reader #rottmnt raphael x reader #rise tmnt x reader #tmnt raph x reader #tmnt raphael x reader

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ask-lord-morgarath · 11 months ago

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Curiosity led me to inquire of Halt if he had informed anyone of his visit. In his usual terse manner, he confirmed he had not.

The delight that surged through me was ambrosial.

"Halt the Ranger, harboring such intimate secrets? Keeping one solely for my benefit? How marvelous."

“Don't flatter yourself. I meant to send Arald a missive after dinner, but if it bothers you so much I'll go write one now." He raised an eyebrow. "With your lordship's permission, of course.”

“I wonder who might remain in the dark longer- you, or dear Baron Arald?”

“Spare me your mind games.”

"Oh, Halt, you know I cannot. Now, what say you to the offer of a friendly competition? If you and that elusive cloak can evade my detection until dinner, you're at liberty to pen your letter.” My trusty corvid companion fluttered down onto my shoulder. “You may even borrow Rav to dispatch it."

“Rav?”

“Ravioli. My crow.” I reached up to run a finger down the inky plumage, and Rav cawed. “You are acquainted, aren't you?”

Halt wrinkled his nose. “You’re too kind. And if, by some miracle, you manage to find me and win this little game of hide-and-seek?”

“If so, well, I shall relish your company for the rest of the evening without interference.”

One could almost mistake his sour expression for intrigue, though I doubt he'd ever admit it.

I smiled. "Two and a half hours remain until dinnertime, Halt. Conceal yourself wherever you please within my castle, and I shall seek you out. The gauntlet is cast.”

“I'd suggest you mind where you toss your gloves.” A smirk tugged at the edge of his mouth. “Remember what happened the last time you challenged me?”

"Ah, yes, the last time. How good of you to remind me, mon rôdeur, but this time, the game is played on a field of my choosing. Your slippery ways shall be put to the test within the very walls I command."

“I've navigated more treacherous terrain than your castle halls."

A purr entered my voice. “So, you accept?”

“I’ll be gone before you can count ten.”

#lord morgarath #morgarath #halt's visit #ravioli the crow #halt o'carrick

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auburniivenus · 10 months ago

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╰┈➤ @thefastestaround got healed!

In the pulsating core of an urban expanse that slumbers not, where life's manifold tiers weave into a tremendous whirlpool of existence, thus did she navigate her way among the souls anonymous. Her orbs, akin to streams of AMBROSIAL caramel, painted the cosmic scheme with a purity undimmed by the habitual fatigue of the citadel. They shone with vivacity, gamboling in the lucent streams, a lighthouse amid the monotonous granite wilderness.

By some mysterious will or divine jest, a contour blent within the tapestry of motile humanity intersected her passage, collision. As though composed by the ether itself, their orbs met in an ephemeral arrangement REMINISCENT of galactic bodies aligning. In that momentous span, as brief as a comet's trail, their lives intertwined—a duet unintentionally enacted upon the firmament of urbanity. From disarray emerged a solitary coin, its golden hue an envoy from the domain of fortune, now embarking on an odyssey unsought. It pirouetted away, a symbol of their mutual plight, winking brazenly amidst the merciless luminance of this steel colossus.

Steps, light as those of a hart within a thicket; and he like some ominous tempest on destiny's cusp reached forth as well. Their extremities met—not in grasp but in quest—in a fleeting confluence where flesh communed with fleeting intent. At that instant, profound and transient, their souls became tethered in mutual enterprise. The damask bloom suffused Inoue’s visage—a very algolagnia at her own uncharacteristic foible—as she tendered an apology in hushed timbre, scarcely to be claimed by the ceaseless cadence of the city. "I’m sorry. Is this coin yours or mine?"

#( — .:｡✿*┆ starters ❀ ❞ )"#°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ threads #ooc; hope this is okay :3

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moxman · 1 year ago

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chososheart · 3 years ago

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Trainwreck - Eren Jaeger (7)

Chapter seven: With Me, and No One Else.

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x Reader

Series summary: Reader is an 18-year-old, high school student. On her way to school one day, she meets a boy on the train. Will their train, wreck or will they somehow make it work?

Info on Reader: Reader is a logical person. She's organized and tidy. She uses logic and common sense when she makes choices. Some events in her life and some people in her life will cause her to question her sanity as she no longer can differentiate if she's using her heart or brain.

Info on Eren Jaeger on this book: Eren doesn't think. He uses his heart to express himself. If he feels like something is wrong, he will act on those feelings. He's very emotional and speaks his mind. There haven't been many times when Eren felt regret after acting on his emotions; until he met you.

Content: High school! Au, Eren x Reader, strangers to friends, friends to lovers, eventual smut.

word count: 7.2k

CW: mentions of sex, alcohol consumption, mentions of injuries, mentions of death.

see masterlist | navigation | read previous chapter | read next chapter

The afternoon passed by quickly. You indulged in multiple activities that had you feeling sweaty and breathless by the end of the day.

It was now pitch black outside. The air had gotten impossibly colder, but it doesn't bother you, it's refreshing instead of bothersome.

You and your friends left the ambrosial cafeteria with full bellies and wide smiles. Mr. Smith had just announced the nighttime activities, and you couldn't have been more excited.

"At what time do you think they'll let us off?" Amalie asked as she walked into the girls' room with you by her side.

"No idea. Probably sometime after 1 AM," you said.

"Do you think the boys will come?" She walked to her bunk and opened the lilac suitcase that lay on her bed.

"To what?" You copy her actions and pick out a few fuller clothing attires that would be more suited for the weather of the deep night.

"I kinda wanna bring out the alcohol, and stuff tonight. Maybe tomorrow too." She took a large black jacket and slipped it over her honey-like hair. Her body was swallowed by it not long after.

"Oh, of course, they will. Especially Jean. You seem to have him wrapped around your finger." You smile and send her a teasing look, to which she responds with a scoff.

"I don't know what you're talking about." She looked off to the creamy white walls you were surrounded by and crossed her arms.

A slight flush marked her plump cheeks as she thought about if what you had said was true.

With an eye roll and a huff, the flustered girl closed her suitcase and walked to the wooden door at the entrance of the room.

"Let's go." She turned around and waited for you.

As you walk outside into the empty grass fields, you see a big crowd and nudge Amalie to get her to look. The closer you get, the louder Mr. Smith's roaring voice gets.

"Hey," you whispered as you squeezed between Eren and Emilia, "What are we doing?"

Before they could respond, Mr. Smith seemed to have the answers you were looking for.

"For those of you who are late." He looked around the crowd, not making eye contact with you—but you know it was directed at you. "The night activities will be teamwork with your assigned groups; just like we've done all afternoon. We've hidden a few objects. Each object is worth its amount of points. The team with the highest points wins."

He begins walking from left to right, whilst speaking in a stern voice. "All of the objects have been hidden in the forest. We've given two lists with what the objects look like, and the points they're worth to two participants of each group."

Mr. Smith halts his movement and places his arms behind his back. "The team's captains will not take part in this game. They'll keep close, to make sure no one gets injured while you're in the forest. That's all. Go!"

"I have a list," Eren says as he turns to face you.

"Good. We can split our group into two, what do you guys think?" You look at your other group contestants who have gathered around you.

Everyone agrees.

"You found it?" Yasmin asks as you and Emilia run-up to her.

"Yup, Mr. Smith's pocket watch." You throw the golden item at Yasmin and she catches it. She holds it by the chain and lets the round watch, hang in front of her face.

"He really is an old man, huh?" She grabs it all in one go and puts it in her pocket.

"How many points is that?" Connie asked.

"Let me check," Eren said, taking a list out of his pocket. "10 points. I'd say we're pretty good right now. We have maybe..." he looks at the list of items and counts the ones you have accumulated. "...Twenty points?"

You throw your head back with a groan. "It's not enough. We're gonna lose."

"No, we're not. We got this." Connie enthusiastically shakes your left shoulder in an attempt to comfort you.

Eren clears his throat. "Why do you think that?" He looks at you.

"Because I'm pretty sure group yellow has Reiner, Annie, AND Mikasa. They probably even have the highest object already."

"Yeah, no, dummy." Eren flicks your forehead. "Reiner and Annie are in group yellow. Mikasa is in group green."

"Yeah, she's with Hitch, I think?" Yasmin looks at Eren and he nods his head. "How did you not know?"

"Eren's nickname for her says it all," Connie laughs.

Yasmin punches his shoulder and sucks her lips to avoid letting her laugh slip.

"Bitch, you're laughing too!" Connie said.

"Guys, shut up, ____ read this for me, I can't read well in the dark." Eren gives you the list with all the items.

"It says..." You squint and move your face closer to the paper in your hands. "Mr. Ackerman's cravat is worth 30 points."

"It's the highest item, we should prioritize it," Eren says.

You take a step back, feeling uncomfortable by awkwardly standing still, and feel a twig snap bellow your feet, its sound, echos around the forest.

"What was that?" Emilia shrieked, arms and shoulders scrunching as her eyebrows raise in worry.

"Just a branch." You bend down and quickly rub on your calf, where part the twig had hit you.

"Eren, since it's so valuable it's probably gonna be hard to find," Yasmin said.

"Okay, If we split into pairs, we'll get this done a lot quicker. If each pair takes a picture of the list and looks for different things, we won't have to worry about time," Eren says.

"Yeah, that's good," Yasmin said. She turns around and looks at Connie and Emilia. "We can go as a trio. I'll text the rest about this."

Connie and Emilia agreed. Yasmin took a picture of the list and walked behind them in the opposite direction you were going.

Eren turned around and began walking. You look back at the three leaving and see Yasmin looking back at you. She nods her head in Eren's direction and wiggles her eyebrows.

You scoff.

Eren turns around. "What?"

You look at him. "Nothing, let's go."

As you walked through the dark and empty forest, the air continuously got filled by the sounds of the crunching, dried leaves on the floor, and the sounds of soggy grass being stomped on.

It's dead quiet between you and Eren, each one focusing on finding Mr. Ackerman's hidden treasure. The more you walk, the louder the singing of crickets and other bugs got, which made you recoil in disgust. You also hear a few screams come from deep in what seemed like the endless forest and look at Eren, whose pupils nervously moved from one corner of his eyes to the other.

"Don't tell me you're scared?" you say.

"You don't know what's out here." He focuses on the never-ending, high trees ahead of him.

"Yes, I do. It's private property. You're fine." You look at him and shine your phone's flashlight in his face.

He squints and covers the shine of the flashlight with his hands.

"You're pale, Eren. Are you actually scared?"

"No."

He winces when he hears screaming again.

"Eren, they're probably being scared by other students and not... whatever you're imagining at the moment." You look at him but his face doesn't budge.

With a sigh leaving your lips you lock your phone and put it in your back pocket. "Fine. Want me to take your mind off of it?"

Eren snaps his head towards you. "What?"

"When I was little..." you look at the deep blue sky, trying to remember the memory you're about to share with him.

"Oh." He scratches his nape and looks the other way to hide the heat that had pooled in his neck.

"I tried to make my bathroom a swimming...room? I guess?" You look at him and see him gawking at you. "I don't know what I was thinking, I was seven.

"Anyway, I put towels on the gap under the door to... you know... keep the water in?"

Eren chuckled with a shake of his head.

"Yeah, I know. Well, after I made sure the water couldn't escape, I filled my bathtub all the way, so it would overboard into the floor."

His deep, jade eyes widen. "No way!"

"Yes, way. Let me finish! Anyway, I planned to fill the tub, and then let all the water that fell on the floor, fill the room. And it was working, in my defense. The water came up to my ankles before I heard a loud knock on my door."

"Oh, no." He hides his face in his hands and laughs.

"Yeah. My dad. He was livid. Apparently, the water had sunk into the carpet of the hallway. And guess what!"

"What?"

"The room that was under that hallway was my dad's office."

"Oh, no, no, no."

"Yes, yes, yes. My dad noticed because the roof leaked on his COMPUTER."

"What!?"

"Yeah, he was all like 'open the door, right now' and I was like, 'are you sure about that?'. My mom came to calm everyone down because I was scream crying, and didn't know what to do. I turned the water off and let the water in my bath go. After that, they told me to get the cup that held my toothbrush and throw the water in the bath little by little."

"Oh, hell nah. You deserved it though."

"Shut up. Anyway, after the water could no longer be picked up by a cup, they made me grab a towel, suck the water in, and then squeeze it in the bath until there was nothing more than a puddle. I lost my Wii privileges after that." You look at the ground and jokingly pout.

"Huh. So that's why you're shit at Mario kart?" He smirked and avoided eye contact with you.

You gawk at him. "Shut up. I distracted your pussy ass. Your turn."

He turns his head to look at you. "Oh, I don't know. I'm pretty awesome and never embarrass myself, you know."

"Literally what do you mean? You're a walking meme."

"Aye, not cool."

"Just tell me a childhood story or something."

"Okay. When I was a little lad, if I-"

"NO!"

"Damn, okay. No more berries and cream for me, huh?"

You elbow him on the ribs. "Keep talking and I'll make sure mummy's gone."

Eren crouched down and held the side of his waist with his large hands, whilst he faked a cry through shut eyes. "I'll keep doing the little lad dance, even if she's gone!"

"Shut up, you're not funny." You look off to the bushes around you and wait for him to talk.

"Okay, um, when I used to visit my grandparents in Germany, I loved going to this big forest that was close to my house." Eren looked at the trees around him with a calm expression. You turn your head to look at him.

"I would drag my sister along with me and be the hero I always wanted to be. I'd go on adventures with her deep in the forest, which my dad always told me not to do, but I was the hero. I didn't care."

Eren silently looked at the ground. You furrow your brows at the sudden quietness, and when you opened your mouth to speak, he continued.

"One day, in that forest, we found the dead bodies of three men."

Your eyes widen at that, hand flying to stop the gasp that had managed to escape through your lips.

"Police investigated it. And, it was wolves. The thought that it could have been me, or worse, my sister who I would force to go with me, made me sick to my stomach. I guess I just feel uneasy." He chucked, trying to lift the mood.

"That's so scary," you blurt out.

"Yeah, dummy. Apologize for bullying me. Now!" He shined his flashlight on your face which you turned away from with a groan.

He laughs and shines his light in a different direction. "No, but seriously. Thank you. I feel better now."

"That's what I'm here for." You look at him, your eyes connecting to his, making you feel safe and warm. You flash him a smile and look at the path ahead of you.

Eren found himself staring at your moving figure for longer than he should have. A small smile found its way on his face as he saw you look around from left to right. "Let's look for Mr. Ackerman's cum napkin, or whatever the fuck it's called," he says.

"Ugh, I wish." You look at him and smile when you see his face change in disgust.

“Eren!" You straighten your bent body and dust any filth away from your coat.

"What?" He whipped his head in your direction and stood up as well.

"I found it." You run out of the bushes you were practically buried in, to the empty path in between the forest. "I fucking found it!"

"What! No way!" He ran out of the large tree trunks that surrounded him and took the napkin from your hands once he caught up to you. He couldn't believe his eyes.

"You found it!" He held the silky white object in front of his face and when he brought it down, he hugged you while jumping up and down, and yelling, "Let's fucking gooo!"

"Let me call Connie, hold on." He turned away from you and left you there, pounding heart so loud, he was bound to hear it.

You try to make it seem like it wasn't affecting you, though you were sure your rib cages would shatter at any second now from the carnival your heart decided to throw.

what the fuck? You place your hand on top of your left breast and feel it go crazy with the beats.

"Connie wants us to go back," Eren says as he places his phone in his back pocket.

You remove your hand from your chest as if the blood that streamed under your touch was suddenly too much to bear. "I'm a fucking genius," you say, playing it off and turning around to go back.

"Okay, let's not get a big head now. I could've found it if I wanted to."

"No, you couldn't. Shut up."

"Dude." He looks at you and tries to hide the smile that threatens to invade his face. "Whatever."

He looks at the leaves you're crunching with your feet and catches your hand in his sight.

Eren grabs your hand in his, stands still, and shines his flashlight on it. His touch was cold at first, sending shivers down your lower back and imprisoning your breaths in your chest. But the more he inspected your bruised fingers, the warmer his touch got. So warm in fact, your face was suffocating from it and your neck felt itchy.

"It's still like this, huh?" Eren looks at you in the eyes. His pupils were pretty but filled with worry.

"Um, yeah. I don't even feel it. I'm fine, I promise."

"I still feel bad," he said, mainly to himself.

"You? But Connie pushed me, not you."

"Yeah, I know. But if I had done it, I wouldn't have been this rough with you." His gaze was locked on your hand as heat quickly invaded your face.

You slip your hand away from his touch, afraid he'll feel its dampness.

His eyes find yours, confused.

"My nails aren't done, don't look at them." You laugh and motion him, with a nod at the path in front of you. "Let's go."

"Oh." He looks down and chuckles. "Right." He joins you.

His hand that held yours felt heavy and tingly, almost like he was getting a cramp. He lightly shook it as it hung down his side, to make the strange feeling go away.

"So, where is it," Yasmin asks as she jogs up to you and Eren.

"Right here." Eren waves the cravat like it was a flag.

Connie grabs it. "Okay, we definitely won, right?"

"Let's find out." Emilia nods to Professor Hange who was gathering everyone up.

"Kids, place your items in front of you and each captain will count them."

Mr. Ackerman stood in front of the pile of items on the floor. The rest of the teachers were with their groups.

When Mr. Ackerman began to count, you could see a faint smile on his face once he saw the cravat.

"Guys, my group has 30 points," Professor Hange announced.

"My squad has 26," Mr. Smith said.

"Mine has 40," Mr. Zacharias said with a smile.

"Mine has 50," Mr. Ackerman said, a stern expression on his face, but you know him well enough to know this is his smiling face, or, well, you think it is.

"Well, that's our answer then. Congratulations, team blue has won." Professor Hange announced.

Connie, Eren, and the other boys in your group jumped up and down and ran to where group red was gathered to mock Jean.

"Alright, kids. Today was a long day, yeah?" Hange nodded and looked around as they spoke. They looked down at their watch. "It's a bit past midnight already and I know you're tired. Go to your rooms and have some sleep. I'll expect you all in the cafeteria by 8 AM, latest!"

Amalie looks at you through the crowd with a devilish look.

Guess I'm not sleeping tonight.

"Okay, at what time?" Historia asked as she shut the door to your room. She jumped to Amalie's bunk where all the girls were gathered at.

"I'm texting Jean and he said they'll be ready in 20 minutes," Amalie said.

"That's perfect!" Historia said.

"No, you fucking bimbo. What if the teachers come to check on us?" Sasha said.

You cover your laugh with your hand and Historia punches you in the arm.

"Yeah, that's what I thought too!" Amalie said as she shoved m&m's in her mouth. "Maybe in like an hour or something we could go."

"Okay, I recommend going in our pajamas. Just in case a teacher hears us," Hitch said.

"Amalie's probably wondering if lingerie counts as pajamas," Annie said, as she stood from the bed and made her way to her bunk.

"Well... does it?" Amalie held her m&ms filled hand in the air as she looked around, waiting for a response.

"You can wear it under silk pajamas or some shit. Innocently seduce him if you want," you said.

Amalie filled her mouth with the m&ms that waited in her hand. "I don't know who you're talking about."

"Yeah, sure." Mikasa patted her back.

"____, come here," Yasmin said, leaving her spot next to Amalie and going to her shared bunk.

"What's up," you say as you approach her, leaning against the said bunk.

"You should take your advice." She lifts her brows.

"What?"

"I see how you look at him." She smiled and looked at you up and down.

You choke on your spit. "No idea what you're talking about... but please elaborate."

"I know you got some silk laying in your suitcase somewhere, wear it."

"I'll look silly."

"You'll look sexy. I'll get the other girls to do it too." She reaches for your hands. "If you want him, do something. You don't have to wait for him to make the first move."

"Fine," you huff.

"Go get your stuff, I'll wait for you."

"Okay." You practically hop to your bunk and grab your suitcase, you drag it to Yasmin's and open it. "What do you think?"

"About your panties?" She held a pink lace thong in her hand. Your eyes widen and you snatch it away from her.

"They're very nice, you don't have to tell me. And no." You grab a silky set of shorts and a top. "This. What do you think?"

"I like it. It's subtle."

"Okay, I'm- it's casual, right?"

"Yeah, I just said that." She laughed.

"Okay, I'm just nervous. I don't wanna make it weird, you know?"

Yasmin looked at the carpeted ground beneath her with a sigh. "Yeah, I do." She looked up at you and quickly smiled after seeing you had noticed her sudden mood change. "So, try it on."

"Are-"

If she wanted to talk about it she would.

"Okay." You let the topic go and hide behind Yasmin's bunk and change. The light material feels cool on your skin.

"Ta-da?" You walk out and stand behind her.

She turns around. "Aye, you look good. Do a little spin for me."

You roll your eyes and spin.

A bigger smile showed itself on her face. "Cool, I'll talk to the girls."

"Get in, and sit on the floor!" Historia whispers at the boys entering the room.

"Why? So you'll feel tall for once?" Eren asks as he walks through the door.

Historia quickly catches up to him and quirks him in the calves.

"Guys! If you get us caught I'll blame everything on you two!" Amalie whisper-shouts.

"What did you bring and what are we doing?" Jean asks as he leans on Connie's shoulder.

"Let's play, never have I ever, if you have, drink," Sasha said. She was sitting with her legs crossed on the ground.

Emilia walks in with a few glass bottles in her hands and sits after setting them on the floor.

You and the girls forbid anyone to use the toilets for at least an hour before meeting here. You used that time to clean the floors.

After you sit, Eren and Connie sit by both of your sides.

Connie leaned forward and grabbed a bottle of vodka. "Amalie I love you," He said.

"I know, I know. What would you guys do without me." She pours gin, Campari, and beer into a few cups. Connie pours the vodka into the other cups.

After everyone was sat, Amalie began the game. "Okay, never have I ever—fuck, I don't know...um... masturbated?"

Everyone reached for different cups and drank. You heard a few "really's?" once the cups were placed on the floor again.

"Okay, let me spice that up for you, Ams. Never have I ever, masturbated to anyone in this room," Jean said, looking at Amalie as he reached for a cup.

You don't know if you should drink or not. There weren't that many people in the room an-

Eren reached for a cup and took a sip, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. He placed it back down and wiped his mouth with his wrist.

You reached for a cup and take a sip as well. Amalie, Yasmin, Mikasa, and Connie followed after.

"Dirty whores." Jean smiled.

"Never have I ever fingered someone at a friend's birthday dinner," Connie said, elbowing you and looking at Jean.

Jean scoffed and took a long sip of the cup that was already in his hands.

"Never have I ever, fucked someone in public," Yasmin said.

Eren looked at her. "Does a car count?"

"Yeah," Yasmin replied, reaching for a cup herself.

"Well, in that case..." You brought the cup to your lips and took a sip. You see from the corner of your eye, Eren reaching for a cup and drinking too.

"Never have I ever, I don't know, cheated," Eren said, looking at you from the corner of his eye.

You didn't move and neither did he. Connie shrugged and reached for a cup.

You scoff. "Shawty can't even get one girl," you whispered to Eren.

"Let him live his moment," he whispered back.

"Never have I ever, sexted the wrong person," Historia said while looking at Eren.

You cover your laugh with your hand and he elbows you. He reached for the plastic cup and took a sip, when he placed the cup back down on the floor, his arm brushed past your thigh. He left it there.

"Never have I ever, been walked in on while having sex." Eren looks at Historia. She reached for a cup and took a sip. Jean and Ymir joined her.

"What? A threesome?!" you say.

Historia looks at Jean and gags. "I'd rather get hit with a bus."

"Damn." Jean downed the rest of the gin in his cup. "Don't act like I'd ever fuck you either."

"Shut up," Amalie said and look at Eren. "When did this happen?"

"Did you guys not notice when Historia and Ymir disappeared during volleyball?" Eren asked.

"No fucking way," you say, looking at the blonde and brunette in front of you.

"I just wanted to use the bathroom." Eren jokingly sobbed, which made everyone fill the room with laughter, well, not everyone.

"Anyway, Jean! Why- he also got caught. Let's hear him out," Historia said, lowkey growled.

Ymir seemed completely unbothered by this. You couldn't see much of her face, because she continuously sipped on her drink, but you could see the cheeky smile she tried to hide.

"Oh, Eren. Wanna tell that one?" Jean asked, grabbing another cup from the center of the floor to chug it down as well.

"I'm just the luckiest boy, aren't I?" Eren laughed as he shook his head. "I made the mistake of going to Jean's house unannounced." He looked at Mikasa for a split second before resuming with a smile on his face. "Let's say I understood why we call him horse face."

Jean set the now-empty plastic cup on the ground. "I'm fucking bored of this. I'm going to my room. Ams, wanna come?"

You shoot your head in Amalie's direction send her a cheeky grin. She rolls her eyes and grabs Jean's hand.

You stand and walk to the back of the bathroom, which was where the sinks were as everyone else exited the room.

You turn the tap on, letting your trembly hands get wrapped around the soothing, warm water that slightly left a trail of steam behind as it splashed on your skin.

When you look in the mirror in front of you, you see Eren walking to you.

"Who'd you accidentally sext?" You look back down at your hands as you lather the mint-colored soap on them.

Eren turned and leaned against the cool, marbled sink once he reached it.

He crossed his arms. "Historia. It was years ago, probably my first time sexting. I thought she forgot about It," he chuckled, shoulders slightly raising and dropping back down.

"Who was it for?" You keep your gaze on your hands as you rinsed them for longer than necessary, water starting to sting.

Eren furrowed his brows when he turned to look at you. He tried to hide the small smile that threatened to reveal itself on his face when he saw the way you fidgeted with your hands.

"Some chick I liked at the time."

"Oh," you let out a stiff laugh.

He continued looking down at your hands. "At the time."

When you turn your head to look at him, your eyes meet for the quick second he stopped staring at your body language.

With an inhale so deep, it raised your chest, "So!" you said, turning around and taking a paper towel from the dispenser on the wall and scrunching it from how quickly you handled it. You throw it in the bin.

You turn around, unaware of what to do with your hands, or arms, or posture, or yourself—you shake those thoughts away. "What'd you talk about with Jean today?"

"What?" He frowned.

Shit

You squeeze your eyes shut, along with a bodily cringe at the revelation.

"You've been spying on me again?" A boyish grin on his face.

"You wish." You turn around and lean your body on the edge of the sink, you hold the marbled ledge in your hands for support.

"Cool." He pushed away from the sink. "You guys cleaned the whole floor, right?" he said, inspecting the floor with a small crease of his brows.

"Yeah. Y'all could've helped, but-"

He quickly turns and slides down the wall that's next to the sinks and taps on the free spot next to him.

He altered his position before speaking, bending his legs straight in front of him and laying his forearms on his knees. "I don't know why you're so invested in my relationship with Jean, but I'll tell you anyway." He looks at you taking a few steps towards him, and tucking your shorts with your hands to make sure nothing shows through the loose item. You cross your legs and lean forward with your elbows on your legs.

Your knee was stuck with his thigh, the fabric of his joggers feeling warmer than it should on your bare skin.

Eren takes a deep breath, for multiple reasons, but mainly because he hasn't talked about this new friend of his with anyone else. He concentrates by looking at the stalls in front of him. "Jean and I have known each other for a long time like I told you when you came to my house."

He isn't looking at you, but you still nod and quietly analyze his features.

"We argued a lot back then, sometimes it'd get physical too. We grew up and got over the fighting and shit. I guess we developed a friendship? I don't know."

He looks at you for a second, debating if he should tell you this. He sighs. "You probably noticed by now, but my sister and I don't really get along."

"Yeah, I can tell," you say, followed by a breathy laugh.

"We were really close though. She, Armin, and I used to be inseparable." The smile that appears on his face as he looked at the white floor tiles, wasn't your typical smile. Not the ones where your lips curl on your face, and your eyes shine, no. It was the kind that pained your heart to look at. The kind where his facial features stayed relaxed as he recalled the memories of his friends.

You know all of this, you were told by multiple people from your friend group, plus, you have eyes. But he doesn't need to know that.

"Oh, really?" You look off to the stalls he stared at earlier, acting as unbothered as possible.

Eren scoffed. "You don't have to lie. I know you know."

You whip your head in his way. "Okay, yeah, I noticed. So, what happened?"

"We-" Eren lets out a breathy laugh. "That's another story for another day." He shakes his head and looks at the stalls again.

"I'm always with Jean though. So he knows everything."

You yawn and squeeze your eyes shut, the alcohol you consumed earlier finally hitting you. You open your eyes again and instantly shut them, from having a spiny room enter your vision. You lean back against the wall to rest your head, but that just makes it feel dull and weird, and fuck, it kinda hurts too- you let it fall to the side and your body instantly tensed up when you felt it hit him.

Eren looked down at you, from his angle, all he could see was the top of your head and not your face, which was frozen, or your eyes that looked like they were about to pop out of your skull at any second now. You cringe at your action and squeeze them back shut, silently wishing to disappear before he tells you to get the fuck off his shoulder.

But he doesn't. Sure, a few muscles of his flexed with feeling your head on him, and your body so close to his—but that was it. After he stopped talking for a few seconds, he was back to speaking as if nothing had happened. Or, at least, that's what you thought. Luckily for him, you couldn't see how he fidgeted with his phone, or when he set it down to mess with his fingers, or even how his feet tapped as he tried to release some stress.

"So, um..." Eren looked up at the ceiling, trying to calm his breathing and pouncing heart. You felt heavier on him, almost as if you were asleep, the thought was making his head spin, either that or it was the alcohol.

He looks down at you again and sees you completely still. Eren took a deep breath. "I hate to say this, and I hope you're asleep, but Jean has been a good friend, great even."

He looks down at his fidgety hands. "It's crazy cus he used to annoy the living shit out of me. He used to think he was better than everyone else, and I hated that. He didn't care about anybody but himself and his well-being." Eren furrows his brows. "I think we were 15 when he changed that mindset. That way of thinking got Marco and him into trouble. He ditched being selfish because of that and over the years, he grew on me."

He looks at you again and smiles a little. "But lately he's been there for me in a way no one has. He lets me stay at his house as much as possible and that alone is just like, wow. He's also a great lift, will get cranky if I mess with the radio though." His shoulders raise up and down as he lets a soft laugh fill the air.

"I mean, I guess there are some downsides to getting this close to him. I've walked into him fucking some girl, three times now. And for some reason the last time it happened, his dick was out of her, and I had to see it?" Eren looks at the ground and sighs. "Nice dick tho, no cap."

That's when you lose it and burst out laughing.

He looked down at you slowly lifting yourself off of him. "Wha- you didn't hear that."

You cover your face as you laugh. "Yes, I did."

"No, you didn't." He nudged you and laughed as he looked away.

"Okay, so what does 'Jean's nice dick' have to do with what I asked?"

"Oh, right. I don't know, he just told me something he overheard. That's probably what you saw."

"So, y'all were gossiping?" You turn your body, now sitting across from him.

"It's not gossiping." He furrows his brows and faces you. His eyes fell on your left shoulder instead of meeting with your eyes.

His eyes trailed down to your collarbones before dropping down to the smooth skin of your breasts.

shit.

He quickly looks away as he blinked multiple times, neck and cheeks growing warmer.

You look down and smile when you saw your top's strap halfway down your arm, which happened to be slightly exposing your breasts.

I love you, Yasmin.

"It is!" You move a bit closer to him, alcohol definitely making you bolder than usual.

"It's not!" He rolled his eyes and looked at you again. He was determined to pretend as if nothing had happened and as if the bit of cleavage he had just seen, wasn't clouding his thoughts like a damn middle schooler who had just gone through a playboy magazine.

But all of that flew out the nonexistent window of the room you were in when his eyes found yours. You had those eyes, the kind that cleared his mind from, well, you instantly.

Eyes, heavy and glossed, slowly blinking and fluttering your eyelashes at him. The lazy smile on your face, how you licked your lips when you looked down at his, that, and your hands which were formed into fists at the hem of your shirt, made it evident of what you wanted.

"We..." He licks his lips and swallows hard. "Weren't talking shit." Eren tilted forward, slowly. Unsure of where he wanted to lead this.

"I doubt that," you say slightly above a whisper, looking at his glistening lips as you feel your cheeks tingle with how warm your body was.

He stares at yours back, fighting back the urge to lunge at you and take what he wants.

You feel your breath get stuck in your throat, as he kept moving forward to finish closing to space between the two of you.

"What can I do to make you believe me." He slowly whispered.

The low rasp of his voice made your lungs finally get that breath of air you deprived them of, as you sharply inhaled from his tone. Your hands trembling from how badly you wanted this.

"Prove it to me."

You both know that whatever you were talking about isn't what's in the air at the moment. The tension was so thick, it was almost visible, but you could definitely feel it. Like it was a thick fog clouding yours and his thoughts, making you say random things you would never dare to admit out loud. But anything to keep the moment going.

"I want to, so bad." Eren swallowed out, breaths getting heavier as the seconds went by.

"Then, why don't you?" You stare into his captivating green eyes. They were slightly blown out, probably from his thoughts running a thousand miles an hour. His cheeks flushed a pretty pink color that tailed its way to the tips of his ears. His lips were parted and plump, waiting, dying to be combined with yours.

Eren raised a shaky hand your way, fingers brushing over the hot skin of your arms, sending shivers down your spine as you realize just how much you craved his touch. The first time he has touched you in this way, and you're already obsessed. Already recording the scene in front of you, to play over and over when you crave him again.

Eren's light touch left its burning and tingling trail up your skin as it found the loose strap on your shoulder that started it all. He gently dragged it back to where it should have been, and he left his hand to rest there for a little longer as he looked down at your chest. Not exactly looking at what got his mind running in the begging, but how it moved up and down. How your skin glistened with the harsh lights.

He closed his eyes with a deep breath for a final time, but when he opened them again, his attention was drawn to somewhere else.

"____?"

You heard with what sounds like the creek of an opening door.

fuck

You whip your head in the sound's direction and jump away from Eren's touch.

Eren quickly stands up and faces the mirror as he pretends to wash his hands in the sink.

Emilia walks in and stares at the two of you, completely oblivious as to what had happened. "Are you guys alright?"

"Yeah."

You and Eren look at each other before looking back at her.

Emilia looked at Eren for a while longer—well— not exactly at him, but at what he was doing.

He was swirling his hands together in the sink as if he was washing his hands, except there was no water or soap. She looks back at you. "____, let's go the girls are waiting."

You stand up and dust your shorts from any dirt that may have been on the floor and look at Eren through the reflection in the mirror. Both silently thinking, the same thing. "I'll go in a bit."

"No. C'mon, let's go." She takes the extra steps to grab your arm.

Eren suddenly forgets about the nonexistent water that should've been soaking his skin when he turns around and takes a hold of Emilia's shoulder. "I'll take her, don't worry."

Emilia looks at him and then looks at you. "I'll give you guys a minute." With that, she turns and exits the room.

You huff and look at Eren. "Well," you see him awkwardly looking around the room. "I should go."

Eren stands there for a while, completely unaware that you were indeed not planning to continue what you had started earlier.

Until it hits him. "Oh, um, yeah, she might come back."

"Bye." You wave to him and walk to exit the bathroom. Your heart, stammering so loud you felt its beat in your eardrums.

"I- thank you," he says.

"What? Why?"

"I haven't talked to anyone about myself in a while, except for Jean, but he doesn't count."

Your chest is filled with coziness once more, but you hide it with a smile as warm as he made you feel. "Oh, don't worry. I'm all ears."

He mirrors your smile and takes a step forward. Instead of continuing until you were buried deep in his arms like he wanted to, he stood there. Feeling his heartbeat at the tip of his fingertips that hung loose on each side of his ardent body. "So, um, have a good night." He managed to blurt out.

"Oh, you too!" You turn back around and make your way to the exit.

When you closed the door once you were in the hallway, you let out the multiple breaths you were holding. You let your heart calm down, and your stood hairs fall back down before entering the room full of sleeping girls.

Eren let go of the breath he held in once the bathroom door closed. He turned around and washed his flushed face in the sink.

Did that just happen?

What would've happened if Emilia hadn't walked in?

Are you ready?

Were the questions that remained in his head for the rest of the night. They swirled through his mind like a tornado; while he dried his face; when he left the bathroom; when he walked in his room, and while he laid awake all night. Okay, not 'all night', but it sure as hell felt like it.

He tossed and turned. Took his blanket off only to tightly wrap it around himself a few seconds later. Eren fell asleep a little before dawn. A little before the stars cleared the sky.

You weren't too different from him when it came to this at least. Thought you were in different rooms, you were in the same place mentally—maybe even physically too. Tossing and turning and randomly daydreaming—or night dreaming?—of what would've happened.

A stupid smile on your face, as your eyes shined with want, with need--when sleep finally took over your body.

Both together in each other's dreams as the pitch-black sky got lighter, preparing for the early birds of dawn to announce that it was a new day.

Hii guys, it’s been a hot minute since I’ve updated, hehe, i suck. to make up for it, I’ll update trainwreck like crazy in November so dw!!

Oh, btw I know the "berries and cream" joke is cringe and old, but to MY defense, I wrote that part a few days after chapter 6, and I'm wayyyy too lazy to change it lmaoo

Tyy @coyloves for helping me with the last scene hehe, what would I do without you <33

Anyways, hope you guys enjoyed it!!

Until next time!!

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ambrosialdesire · 2 months ago

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Honestly u should have a tag just for levy and for ur other ocs i need to see himmm

-🌷

i do! it’s #ambrosial-levy but i don’t think there’s much in there for now lmao

i fr need to fix up my navigation post cause now i got so many fun little things to talk about and explore, and then i need to make a masterlist for my ocs and shit but that’ll come later down the line

#love-message #🌷 anon

0 notes

a-crepusculo · 3 years ago

Text

The Smell of Her - Part II (Ethan x MC)

Book: Open Heart Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x Dr. Marchia Bisognin (F!MC) Series: Five Senses Series Series Premise: Ethan navigates his thoughts and feelings towards Marchia using the faculties of sight, smell, hearing, taste, and touch. Rating: General Warning(s): None Word Count: ± 600 words

Previous Parts: Part I

A/N: I want to thank everyone that had taken the time to read, support, and share their lovely comments on the first part of this series. I’m truly grateful to be here, surrounded by the loveliest people ever 🤎 Without further ado, please enjoy part two!

The ability to breath in and appreciate various smell can feel a little like being able to recall a dream; perplexing, yet oftentimes, delightful.

Most people have expressed how the faculty of smell is a highly personalized, esoteric experience. One could easily find themselves being teleported to another place, another time, another memory after only picking up the smell of their favorite food.

But smell is simply not limited to physical materials and worldly constraints.

For instance, Ethan described that fear—at least, to him—has a rather earthy smell.

Damp, musty, and painfully raw. It overwhelms his nostrils with a heavy, heady smell of tropical rainforest; as if he was tucked back inside the depths of Amazon, three thousand miles away from Marchia. Maybe, he thought, just maybe: fear has smelled a lot like losing her.

While fear has its odor, love—naturally enough—has its own smell, too.

Love is the aroma of her Libre Yves Saint Laurent perfume; spritzed on her neck and wrists after a hot morning shower.

Mere seconds after spraying the fragrant liquid, lavender flowers twirled within the sea of orange blossoms—harmoniously dancing their way into his olfactory system.

Even after hours of running around Edenbrook, the familiar scent would welcome him again with subtler notes of jasmine and vanilla. Standing still inside the white corridor, her smell is like a breath of fresh air—giving life into the bitter, pine-scented four walls that once stood meaningless.

Love is the yeasty, slightly sweet fragrance that came from their favorite bakery down the street.

As though a cartoon vapor had tugged her there by the nostrils, Marchia would always gleefully float to its front door with excitement. She took deep, slow, and long breaths upon entering the shop; smiling and basking herself in the thick, buttery fumes that filled the air.

After a while, Ethan did it too: mimicking her simple actions of inhaling the freshly baked bread aroma. Little did he know that what surprised him the most was the warmth, the comfort that thrummed through his body. A feeling that he thought was long gone; consumed by the complicated, harsh nature of his past.

But it hasn’t, it didn’t disappear.

Love is the pelagic and salty sea air that flared his nose, shifting with the winds as they strolled along the beach.

Similar to a vial being slowly uncorked, the sea had a simple yet complex and unique scent. An accumulation of every single organism in the ocean’s ecosystem.

Remnants of the sea latched on to their skin as they blissfully drove back home. It came from the air, the sun, the waves—unified and preserved as a unit in his memory.

If he could, he would take it all in: the clean seawater smell that has blended together. He would chug on it—pure and unadulterated—in such quantities that he could get drunk on.

Love is the ambrosial, bright, and somewhat citrusy smell that came from her favorite lilies.

Every month, they would come home from the Sunday farmers’ market; Marchia carrying an enormous bouquet in her thin arms. She had spread them all out—the living room, kitchen, dining room, their bedroom. Every corner of their abode was blessed with its heavenly fragrance.

The scent made their house beautiful, serene, and alive. It had become a part of her, and also, a part of him. It made their home befittingly theirs, and no one else’s.

Now, he had finally realized that love is the smell of her.

Additional A/N: Whoops, Tumblr went tumbroke and my original post went bonkers. Sorry for the double (even triple) tags, my dear friends! I’m reposting this, and hopefully it won’t go crazy again 🥲

I’ll be tagging in a separate post!

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writing-red · 4 years ago

Text

from the dining table

draco malfoy x reader (mentions of harry potter x reader)

summary: You and Draco broke up and he is trying desperately to get in touch with you even though he knows exactly why you aren’t picking up the phone (song fic based on harry styles’ from the dining table)

request: @runninglownad hii! can i request a draco imagine based on from the dining table by harry? thanks sooo much <3

warnings: this is super angsty, breakup, toxic relationship, sad anger and drinking

a/n: I hope you enjoy!! and photo credit to @fixedunit

word count: 2.1k

Woke up alone in this hotel room

Played with myself, where were you?

It was seven when Draco finally decided to stop fighting the insomnia. Thoughts of you claiming his mind and making him entirely unable to find sleep. The white hotel sheets were curled around him, pillows on the floor, broken glass shattered around him like an unholy halo, and the room in total disarray. He laid there, staring at the ceiling, unsure of what to do with himself, unsure of what to do with himself now that he had lost you. He so desperately wished that he could squeeze his eyes shut only to open them and find you laying there next to him, wishing desperately to see that incredible beaming smile of yours, the one that would turn your cheeks rosy red.

He rose from the bed and navigated around the mess on the floor to get to the bar in the room. With a heavy hand he poured himself a scotch, as he continued to think of you; the feeling of your lips on his, the lines of witty banter you always seemed to whip out of nowhere, and the idea that he may never hear the rasp of your voice in the morning again.

Fell back to sleep, I got drunk by noon

I’ve never felt less cool

He abandoned the glass dragged the bottle back to the bed, putting on the television as a distraction. He couldn’t seem to find a program that didn’t make him think of you, he couldn’t get the sound of your sweet and joyous laugh echoing through whatever space you held.

Tears streamed down his face as he downed the scotch, he felt like an absolute child. Crying over a girl, drinking, and sleeping. The pattern was pathetic and the last thing Draco Malfoy was, was pathetic. Yet it seems you could reduce him down to a blubbering child and all he would think of is how terribly he missed you, and how badly he wanted to smell your deep ambrosial perfume. By the time he woke up again the digital clock next to the bed was flashing 12:13 as if it was mocking him, goading him to wake up and get over himself.

We haven’t spoke since you went away

Comfortable silence is so overrated

Why won’t you ever be the first one to break?

Even my phone misses your call, by the way

Your voicemail, the one you had recorded with him, your voice was happy, and it sounded as if you would never be sad again.

“You’ve got Y/n” joyful, happy, in love. “I am buuuuusy and I am so very sorry I missed your call but shoot me a text or leave a voicemail after the beep and we shall speak at another time! Thanks.”

“Y/n, darling?” he muttered. “Look I know that I fucked up, and that you don’t want to talk but can we please just go get coffee, I want to see you, and I don’t want to end things on that note. Please, I know that we aren’t getting back together, I just, Y/n I need to see you.”

“You’ve got Y/n! I am buuuuusy and I am so very sorry I missed your call but shoot me a text or leave a voicemail after the beep and we shall speak at another time! Thanks,” Draco was mocked by the shrill beep that followed the sound of your voice.

“Hey, I’m sorry about all the voicemail’s and all of the text messages, if you don’t want to see me please just tell me so. Look I just, Y/n, I am miserable and I really just want to apologize for everything face to face. Please don’t just ignore me.”

“You’ve got Y/n! I am buuuuusy and I am so very sorry I missed your call but shoot me a text or leave a voicemail after the beep and we shall speak at another time! Thanks,” Draco listened solemnly as the voicemail played wishing this wasn’t the only way he could hear your voice.

“Look, I get it if you don’t want to talk to me, just, tell me yourself don’t just ignore me. Please,” he was desperate, to see you without tears streaming down your face, tears he had caused.

I saw your friend that you know from work

He said you feel just fine

I see you gave him my old t-shirt

More of what was once mine

Weeks past and Draco didn’t hear back from you. He knew that you were forcing him to move on and he didn’t want to accept it but he knew that he had no other choice. He was back to work, back to normal, although no matter what he did he couldn’t seem to get the thought of you out his head. He was drinking, more than usual, smoking more than usual, and he had destroyed his fair share of hotel rooms. It was time for him to start living his life again.

You had always loved coffee, going to coffee shops, trying out different drinks, people watching, you had made the whole ordeal a habit for Draco and now it was a way for him to hold onto you. He thought that if he was lucky enough he’d catch you at one of them.

Today he went before work, luckily he had skipped the morning coffee shop rush and there were just a few other people inside the shop.

“I’ll have a black drip coffee, and a croissant,” he said, handing the barista money.

“Here’s your change, and it’ll all come up at that bar over there,” she said gesturing to the end of the bar.

“Thanks,” Draco said kindly as he stepped over to where the barista had gestured to wait for his order.

“Malfoy,” he heard a familiar voice.

“Potter,” Draco said, surprised to see the man you had both gone to school with, and who you now worked with.

“Nice to see you, what have you been up to recently” Harry asked him.

“Just work,” Draco observed Harry, the man he had always been so jealous of, for a moment when his eyes caught something similar. “That’s a bit of a posh shirt for you isn’t it?”

“Ah- it was in Y/n’s flat, I mean she gave it to me because it was in her flat and it’s my size and all that.”

“Got it. I think that’s mine,” he said, his eyes still on the shirt as the barista placed his coffee and pastry on the bar in front of them. “Tell Y/n I say hi?”

“Sure thing mate, she’s uh doing pretty alright,” Harry offered and Draco nodded, swiftly exiting the coffee shop refusing the urge to start crying over you again.

I see it’s written, it’s all over his face

Comfortable silence is so overrated

Why won’t you ever be the first one to break?

Even my phone misses your call, by the way

Potter. You had to choose Potter of all the men you knew to sleep with. It was as if you were trying to hurt him, trying to drive the knife further into his heart. That night Draco proceeded to call you all of thirteen times, four of the calls sober, and the other nine varying levels of drunk until he finally blacked out.

All he wanted was to hold you one more time, to hear you talk over a movie, shout out the lyrics to some old Bon Jovi song, watch you dance atop your kitchen table, you were always the perfect antagonist to silence and now it seemed that silence was all he could hear. People would speak to him and he couldn’t hear it, he would try and remember the sound of you, your singing, your voice, your laugh, but his memories of you were only pictures.

Maybe one day you’ll call me and tell me that you’re sorry too

But you, you never do

The ringer on his phone was always on, and when it buzzed he picked it up as quickly as a man could. Although, he was routinely disappointed to find that it was either Blaise, his boss, his mum, or a hotel calling to let him know of the damages done and the charges he would incur. But it didn’t matter, none of those calls mattered because they weren't you.

He just wanted you back, and all he could do was call and call, while picturing you lying in Harry Potter’s arms. You had chosen to be with Potter, and you had chosen to leave Draco, and Draco just couldn’t cope with your choices.

Woke up the girl who looked just like you

I almost said your name

He didn’t know this ones name, and he didn’t know the last one’s name. These girls that circled through his bed, each of them vaguely resembling you in one way or another. Today he awoke to seeing your nose, and your hair on someone else. Sleeping with these women upset him more than it comforted him, but it was at least something to do with himself.

“Y/-” he stopped himself. “Hey, I’ve got to go to work.” He said, shaking the girl awake.

“Can’t I just leave after you?” She groaned, her eyes still closed.

“No, get up,” Draco said as he got out of bed and pulled the duvet off of her. “Now,”

“Fine, I’m going,” she said, taking her time to draw herself up. “And I promise I won’t be back.”

And there she went, another person lost whether he wanted her or not. All he knew how to do was drive people away. He didn’t want to get over you, ever since your trip to New York you had been the love of his life. But now he resolved to living his life as a ghost, constantly in terrible silence without you.

Comfortable silence is so overrated

Why won’t you ever be the first one to break?

Even my phone misses your call, by the way

Taglist - @sarcasticallywitty15 @fred-love-bot

#Draco Malfoy #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco fanfiction #draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #Draco Malfoy angst #harry potter x reader #harry potter fanfiction #from the dining table

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felassanis · 4 years ago

Text

A hope on cliffs - Aruani

Ao3 Link + Fic under the cut:

Sunlight was spilling in through the nearby window. Pouring glowing, warm, and natural arrays of colours into the bedroom like the mosaic halls of a cathedral. Igniting their surroundings with the hues of a campfire’s flames; washing over their faces as the brightness slowly stirs them awake.

At some point during the night, their limbs had untangled and they slept on either edge of the bed. Annie slowly opened her eyes and was met with the brunt of the white wall, a minor deflation tugged at her chest from the boring sight. Then a soft breath tickled the back of her neck; the wispy, fresh scent of leather, from days spent suffering the tightness of the harnesses, saving her from complete disappointment. Then that woodsy smell he always got when he spent a day outside embraced her as she felt an arm curl around her sides. It reminded her of her garden back home, and she felt safe in his arms. And that odd ambrosial minty sweet smell he somehow possessed filled her nose as she turned over. Greeted by the picture perfect sight of Armin laying beside her.

His eyes were closed, but as she nestled closer to him the hint of a smile working its way on his lips gave away his act. She pressed her fingers over his wrist that was holding her waist, stroking his arm as she travelled along it to settle her fingers on his neck. Playing with the hairs that were there until he finally gave in and opened his eyes.

“Hey,” He murmured. His voice pleasantly tired, his fondness for her still being there conveyed through a delicate breath that made her stomach flip. His morning voice was truly something to behold...

Often when the dawn broke, Annie would collect her things and withdraw from his room without a peep. He hated this, she was fully aware, and it took a great deal out of her to fight the temptation to stay under the covers with him. But better she steal away than let any of the others in on this secret of theirs. This morning however, she felt differently.

“Hey you,” She hummed, trailing his jaw with the tip of her finger. The sensation made his handsome smile grow ever more, and she was in awe at how more defined his face had become. So much time had passed between them...so much wasted time...he was older, so was she. And yet she could hear the eerie tick-tock of her mortality in the background...

“Nice to see you're still here,” The sound of his voice keeps her delving anywhere too dark.

“Yeah, you too,” And she meant it. Still here, she was still here...enjoy it, Annie.

His eyes, now open, were unwavering in their navigation of her face. She knew that look. Could hear the machinations in that mind of his whir as he balanced on the line between staying where he was or kissing her. Looking for evidence that she would withdraw if he leaned in. She was never one for many words, so he always looked for silent confirmation.

Annie made the decision for him. Leaning in close till their lips touched, grazing together softly which earned a pleasant sound from him as she slowly drew her fingers to the back of his head. Carding her nails through his hair which she knew he loved. His fingers dug into her hip, no doubt keeping her in bed with him. Less she climbed out and left him alone like she normally did. Still, she found herself smiling into his lips as she traced circles into her skin with his thumbs. Like he was conducting some kind of rune that would compel her to remain here forever.

“Do we have anywhere we need to be this morning?” She asked, pulling away. Not entirely keen on keeping him from any duties he had. Even if she was tempted to steal him away from the others.

“None,” He breathed. Indeed, a tension seemed to have fled from his shoulders as he said this. Peace washes over him, breathing new life into him. A rare sight for sure that made her heart soar for him. And told her that he wasn’t lying.

“Good,” She shuffles closer, resting her head against the warmth of his chest. Her ears pressing just over his beating heart. “Because I want to stay like this for a while longer,”

“These are rare moments” His chin meets her head. “We should enjoy them,”

As usual, Armin was right. She had never stayed till the morning, and the air between them danced with endless possibilities. She walked on the tightrope between luring him into a peaceful slumber held safely in her arms, or stirring something else within him. Drawing out the side to him only she ever got to see. And enjoy thoroughly.

“Annie?” He says, pulling her from these thoughts.

“Yes?”

He was silent, as if he hadn’t meant to start up a conversation. She kisses his chest, letting him know deep in his heart that he could tell her anything.

“If this ever ends...this chaos, this war. If there’s a chance this could all end peacefully...what would you do?”

The question takes her aback. The ambition slithering in his words, the naivety of it all, made her chest writhe and tighten. The mere thought of a possibility of a world devoid of hate and violence...it made her sad. Because it was not a reality. He knew this, yet he could not help entertain the idea.

Truthfully, it was something she both loved and hated about him. His ambition, his hope and his idealism. It was everything she lacked and envied.

She preferred not thinking about it. But in truth, this was coming increasingly hard to avoid each time their lips met and each time touches lingered longer than they should. Such bittersweet memories that had not happened, and would never happen. Like she was mourning the death of a life she had never even known. She couldn't picture exactly what a life would be like with him. But enough was there to make her miss it. If things were different, she would ask him to marry her. A jarring proposition, coming from her, when some would say it should be coming from him. But she didn’t care. The question hung on the tip of her tongue more than once but she could not find the courage to utter it aloud. Because how could she? Maybe she was that selfish to give into the temptation of running away for good. But Armin most certainly was not.

“I don’t know, Armin,” She would not bring the world to this room. She would not bring its harshness and cruelty in this moment; shatter this peace and this rare instance of recluse with her coldness. Upon hearing the way his heart pitter-pattered like gushing rain, she sighed and decided she would humour him. “Why? What would you do?”

“I...have ideas,” He says hesitantly. “A house on a cliff. With winding stairs spiralling down onto a beach, perhaps,” His voice is tantalisingly soft, ebbing with hope and brightness for which she does not hear from him all that often. “Naive ideas,”

She pries away and looks him in the eyes. Holding his gaze. Then she begins pecking him on the lips, the chin, the cheek, the nose...

“What else?” She inquires in between kisses. Encouraging him.

She hears a chuckle emanate from him, like the rumble of thunder, as she continues in her path of igniting his skin with her lips.

“Have you ever seen those circular windows? An odd thing to want, I know, but...I picture a house having one of those overlooking the beach. They’re different and they remind me of the library I used to go to when I was a kid. They had one there, you see,” He starts and she listens intently, drawing up this house he paints in her mind with his words as brushes.

“I’d have my own bookshelf. I only ever owned one book, the one that was branded as illegal contraband, so there was never any need to have one. Not that we could have even afforded one anyway. My grandfather had a few cookbooks but those weren’t interesting reads...I’d own lots of books, and keep them on a shelf,”

She smiles against his neck. “That sounds lovely,”

“I sound like I’m five,” He murmurs, laughing.

“You don’t,” She finally finishes her journey back on his lips. Pressing into him eagerly. “Not at all,”

“You don’t dream about what could’ve been?” He asks her, hoping he was not alone in this.

“I’ve never given much thought to the future,” Her mind unfolds the dusty memories of towering over Shinganshina. Of running through the forest, the sounds of 3DM gear zipping through the air behind her like a swarm chasing after her. Of her father, the beatings and exercises creating sores in places she didn’t know existed.

The burning, hot first feeling of transforming at will…of being told afterwards the price of this magnificent power...

“There was never a future in store for me. So I never wasted sleep thinking about it. But when you talk about yours...I want them to come true, Armin. I want you to be happy,”

“It could be ours,” He responds, and his hand leaves her hip to caress her cheek. Stroking the space between her cheeks and just under her eyes. “Somewhere, sometime, in another life. I think we deserve to live for ourselves after everything that’s happened to us,” He adds….

She nods. “I’d like that…”

There’s a brief smile exchanged between them. And for a moment, they exist in that little house on the cliff. He sits in that circular window with a book, and she hangs at his side overlooking the white breasts of the waves. And they live for themselves...

He kisses her, kissing the tears that fall like dewdrops across her cheeks as the cruel world settles back into reality. Their reality...

#armin arlert #annie leonhardt #aruani #armin x annie #Armin arlert x Annie Leonhart #attack on titan #snk #aot #shingeki no kyojin

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