#let him plummet in his own poor decisions

[moxievoxi]

I’m so fucking pissed off right now. My housemate/landlord is driving me fucking insane I need to get the hell out of here. This fucking asshole moron got a small puppy with no warning or discussion, after already impulse buying 4 chickens which I had to help him not kill and an elderly cat with health problems and a flea infestation I’m going to fucking scream I hate it here so much. He did basically nothing with the dog he forced my mom to get when they were dating. I just know this dog is going to be a terribly trained nightmare and I refuse to get involved. Fuck this. Fuck him. And FUCK MY LIFE.

[heliads]

I just saw your account and can I request Tobias x Reader?

Reader is from Erudite and she and Four are the same age. Both of them were top of their class and became trainers. The reader goes by the name 2 sometimes, as a joke. She has a younger sister who also join Dauntless and Reader and Four are just a total power couple. Reader is also Divergent and knows Four’s real name and that he is divergent too. So the day when Tris kissed Four, he moves so she only kisses his cheek. Tris then thinks that Four is shy and likes her. But the next day the reader is very tired from staying up all night helping a kid who was sick, comes and Four kisses her and gives her his jacket. So Tris is really heartbroken since she was the only one who didn’t know about their relationship. Reader and her sister ( who are really close) also hate Tris. Reader is pretty shy and sweet but she has a bitchy face that scares people away a lot.

I hope I am not bothering you… Feel free to tag my name

do you ever think about how tris is really just a y/n in disguise

masterlist

Tris does not know what is coming for her. 

Some time in the future, she may be able to look back on all that happened and realize what she never did back then. She’ll connect the dots with far more clarity than she ever could at the time. Hindsight is always easier to understand than the present moment. Tris cannot be held accountable for that, and neither can you. 

At the moment that Beatrice Prior became just Tris, your story had already long since begun. She was still in denial back in Abnegation when you made a decision in your own round of the Choosing Ceremony. She would not have been there to see how it all went down, but you were. 

Perhaps she heard about what happened through word of mouth. Most new Dauntless come from Dauntless with the exception of a wayward Candor or two that decide the truth is beneath them. You were an exception, then. When Beatrice heard about the sharp-eyed Erudite girl who dashed her blood into Dauntless’ vessel, do you think she thought about it later that night when no one else was watching? Do you think she heard about what you did and realized that she could do it too?

No one will know for sure, none but Tris herself. After what happened, you doubt she would ever be so candid as to let you know. You can guess, though. You can take your time and wonder about what might have gone down in a grayed out faction where a girl heard for the first time that she might be able to have a life outside of endless sacrifice. 

There is one story that she most certainly did not hear at the time, however, and this one would hit a little closer to home. At the very moment that Beatrice Prior was wondering what would become of this year’s round of transfers, another boy was making waves by switching to Dauntless. He was Abnegation too, and at the moment that he let his blood plummet into Dauntless’ bowl, he was as good as dead. 

Later, Tris will wonder how she didn’t connect Four to the boy she had met before, Tobias Eaton. In truth, it’s because every step was taken to ensure that nobody else would. Marcus Eaton’s son died the moment he got the chance to leave his old life behind. Tobias Eaton was buried in a shallow grave under the cover of night, left to the mercy of scavengers like time and poor memory to make up his legacy. Abnegation did not want its followers to think that escape was an option, so he was covered up.

Perhaps, then, the only one Beatrice heard about was you. Tobias was simply one in the crowd at that point, nameless and utterly without character. Every single facet of him had disappeared the second he chose to step away from Dauntless. The boy standing by your side in the Dauntless section of the Choosing Ceremony was staring at his bleeding palm and wondering whose history he could end next. He was no one, not until he remade himself again upon entering Dauntless.

Regardless of what Beatrice did or did not think of the two of you at that moment, your future was set in stone. You bid Erudite goodbye and ran out of the city center with the rest of the assembled Dauntless once the Choosing Ceremony was over. You had analyzed your decision over and over in the preceding months, so you had no regrets at the moment. All there was to do was run free and wild in the sun, and let your body think that it could do whatever you asked of it. 

Like Tris, you also had to leap from the roof and deal with the aftermath of what you found when you fell. Like Tris, your first encounter with the boy who was once called Tobias Eaton and would later be whispered of as Four was life-changing. You were one of the first jumpers, he was one of the second. It was the two of you in an empty hall, lingering by the edge of the net and watching the graduated Dauntless pace back and forth at the edges of the room. The horizons seemed to shift where the black-suited faction lingered to watch, and in the middle of all of it, you found one point of stability. 

Four.

You don’t remember what name he gave when he first jumped down, if he even gave a name at all. He didn’t seem to use one until he progressed into the fear landscapes and was able to be rewarded with his famous nickname. Perhaps he had gone by Tobias all that time before then, but if he had, it had never seemed real. Tobias was a prop to be discarded at a moment’s notice. It suited Four no more than the gray cloth still clinging to his back.

In the time to come, you would watch with the same awe as the rest of the faction as Four quickly rose up through the ranks of initiates. Obviously, no Abnegation would ever have a chance to learn how to fight, but that didn’t excuse Four from being uncannily good at it. He knew how to throw a punch from the moment he arrived, although that could have just been from watching someone else do it. Sometimes lessons are learned from watching the imprints of your own bruises flower on your skin.

Dauntless forgave Four of his Abnegation heritage quickly. You doubt most people even remember he once wore gray instead of black. To suggest that cold, deadly Four could ever have been giving or merciful is laughable. Dauntless’ Four is the pride of their faction. He makes no mistakes and he tells no secrets. No one could ask for anything more.

Why, then, would you? Why would you seek him out after that first meeting? Was the fall from the roof not enough of a rush for you, that you had to track down the one person capable of making your head spin? In the end, you suppose you’ll never really know why you chose Four, only that you did and it is the best thing you could have ever done for yourself. 

Choosing Four was choosing survival. You were Divergent and so was he. Maybe that’s why everything went so south so quickly. You were never meant to live past discovery. You should have woken up to a gun pointed at your head the moment someone found out that the dots weren’t connecting for why you were here and not in your home faction.

You always thought that the first person to figure you out would have been someone back from Erudite. They were always too damned clever, every single one of you. They delighted in figuring out people’s past mistakes, every single loophole they’d ever tripped. Death knows what they would have done to you had they known.

The only thing that might have saved you also damned you. See, Erudite was as sickly brilliant as a smoking gun, but so in turn were you. You knew the perfect answer to say to every question. You knew what to do in the aptitude test so no one would question you. To any onlooker, every bone of yours seemed to be laid bare, when in reality you hadn’t given a thing away.

It was the only thing you could do, but it was exactly what revealed you. Four knew you were as sharp as a blade, both in violence and in mind, and he knew that no one like you would have ever left Erudite if you didn’t have something to hide. What is the only thing in this world that would ever make you fear discovery? Why, the same thing that made him flee to Dauntless’ shadows as opposed to any other place to hide. Divergence.

He had to be the first one to say it aloud. You would never expose a weakness in yourself unless you had a choice. That was the initial moment in which you finally laid down at least part of your armor. In the weeks to come, you would shed more and more of it, until at last the young woman that you became could be the first one to say ‘I love you’ instead of having it be the other way around. You are not the Y/N that came into Dauntless, and you don’t know that you could ever be her again.

That is the wonderful thing about this faction, what it can do to change you. Beatrice learned this as well, you know. You were there to see it start to happen for the first time. She was just the right sort of ember to fanned into a flame around here, and you let it happen.

You should have known from the moment you saw Beatrice Prior become Tris that she would be a threat to you. Instead, you saw a girl not unlike yourself and you welcomed her with a smile. You had been trying to be more forgiving. That is Four’s worst curse on you.

Perhaps it’s because Tris reminds you of your sister. They’re the same age, they both jumped around the same time. In some better world, perhaps Tris would have turned to your sister for a source of friendship instead of looking to your boyfriend for some sort of comfort. That way, far less troubles would be raised, and perhaps you and Tris could see each other as hesitant friends instead of whatever has become of the two of you now.

The worst part is that you could almost see it happening. You and Tris are damned near identical. Both first jumpers, both Divergent, both fleeing a home that could never be truly yours, and worst of all, both in love with Four. How is Tris any better than you? How are you any worse? She made the exact same choices you did, but because you got there first, you get everything and she gets nothing. It is relentlessly unfair, but that is Dauntless; that is life. Nothing in this world will be yours unless you take it. In her defense, that is exactly what Tris tried to do.

Four told you the first time he suspected she had feelings. You and Four are nothing if not honest with each other. He wanted to let you know that something may happen, partially as a warning and partially also in the hopes of using you as a tool to stave off Tris’ crush. You’re a training instructor alongside Four and Eric, so it wouldn’t be difficult for Four to let you handle Tris instead of trying to teach her himself to encourage some distance. 

That’s what you did the first few weeks, at least, but Tris got clever. She really is like you, isn’t she? You can’t possibly hold that against her, but it’s not like you have any other choice. Tris tried too hard to have what she could not. There was no way the two of you could be anything other than enemies. That is what becomes of our doubles, cruel universe; you see yourself in another body and you cannot do anything but despise it.

Four dropped by your place late one night, later than usual. He had a haunted look in his eyes, the sort of guilt you only see on him when he wakes up with a nightmare, muttering the name of a boy long since dead. It wasn’t his fault, he says. He didn’t know what she was trying to do until it was already done.

Here is how it went down, from what Four tells you and what you can pick up from his social cues alone:  Tris had been in trouble. Four has always been a savior, he was certainly yours enough times for it to stick in your head. When Four had come across the scene, he would be able to do nothing if not help. Tris had been grateful, both for the rescue and what she took as a final confirmation of Four’s feelings. She had tried to kiss him. He had moved so she only kissed his cheek. Still, it was a touch that was not yours.

What can you do about that? Tris is not going to go away. Even after initiation ends, she will be a strong member of your faction. Obviously, Four doesn’t want this, but how does he put a stop to it? Eventually, the two of you brainstorm a solution, and go to sleep with no more guilt curled up on the inside of each other’s throats.

You’re helping in the medical wing the next day. Tris is there as a check up to make sure that she was alright after last night’s incident. You don’t treat her, as there are enough patients to fill up anyone’s schedule, but Tris is still there to see what happens when Four drops by. In a perfectly orchestrated move, he gives you his jacket the second you shiver and presses a kiss to your lips. It is a neon sign in the dark, she cannot miss it.

And she doesn’t. You can see Tris’ face crumble across the room, and she quickly turns away to hide her surprise and anguish. You had thought that everyone in Dauntless knew about you and  Four, but it turns out that is only true now. Tris might have been the last to know, but she’s learned her lesson now. You don’t have the heart to hold it against her.

At the end of the day, how could you? Dauntless trains its soldiers to fight for what they want. It is not Tris’ fault that you already did. She will go about her days with a sinking feeling in her stomach, a bit of blood spilled where her heart had previously been healed, but eventually she will be able to act as if nothing ever happened. Soon enough, it will almost be true. Tris will find a new meaning to fill her days.

How do you know this with such certainty? It is exactly what you would have done. 

requested by @sakuraazharuno, i hope you enjoy!

divergent tag list: @rogueanschel, @with-inked-solace, @gods-fools-heroes, @23victoria, @manyfandomsfanvergent

[2n2n]

would like to explain my own interpretation of this play-by-play....

Firstly. I really enjoy everything about this-- kind of a perfect scene for Nene-chan challenging Tsukasa! It's funny, but it's sad, in that understated way we get with Tsukasa.

of all things, it is funny for Nene-chan to refuse his hopelessness about this so directly by yelling at him. I like that to her, it's just like.... come on!!!! If we both yell he might hear us!!! big voices!!!!! don't be stubborn!!!!

Nene-chan slips.... and without thinking, Tsukasa quickly catches her, letting his own hold on the edge go. I like that Tsukasa can do something so foolish.

I don't think Tsukasa sees Amane, here. I think he's reeling in shock from his own decision to save Nene-chan, and send them both plummeting together. Consequences of his actions.

he sees the owls diving at them from above, he's aware of the terrible pit beneath them, there is no good option. I've seen fans in JP focusing on the ----- before the . . . something comes out of Tsukasa... it's significant it's not just '. . . '

I think it would be very appropriate if ... despite Nene-chan's insistence on yelling from his belly, that ... the call for Amane comes out silent, only mouthed, a weak plea. Demure. He can't bring himself to say it louder, but, it's on his mind due to Nene-chan's insistence. Amane saving you. I wonder if Tsukasa's thought about something like that? For who he is, what he's been through ... I think it's, a major breakthrough to... even imagine, Amane coming for him. In its way, a heartbreaking moment for Tsukasa, who is typically practical with Amane's limits. Amane doesn't do many things ...

We don't get to see Tsukasa afraid or scared often ... but I think this moment of vulnerability could be our first peek. He's unusually weakened and he made a snap decision for Nene-chan, which he wouldn't typically make. Much like Amane's feelings for Nene-chan surprise Amane by being new, different-- something he's not 'supposed' to feel.

I do not think either Yugi really understands themselves changing, until it's already happening. Influence ... something new becoming precious, or someone behaving differently ... they both don't think it is possible, I think. I just think Amane is more grim about it while Tsukasa is "such it is!" about it.... if we look at Tsukasa, I'm sure we can agree it seems difficult to truly surprise him.

Tsukasa falls. He wishes Amane would come save them. He's agog to see his wish come true

Amane even directly replying "what?" and making eye contact ... whatever that was, however small or not aloud you spoke it, Amane somehow received it. How romantic, for poor Tsu.

Tsukasa's nature has him recover from this charmingly, but... I think getting to see him wide-eyed in wonder and confusion is beyond what we've seen of him thus far. Nene-chan and Amane both can surprise little Tsukasa. He doesn't actually know everything.

he suddenly feels like such a little brother, doesn't he?

I like that Tsukasa's response to new experience is to immediately try to ask about it and rationalize it... he wants to process, take it in! But why did you do that?

Amane refuses to turn and look at him....

Anyway. That's all! I feel like ... there might be a focus on only Tsukasa's feelings for Amane, here. But I think Nene-chan genuinely influenced him to think in a new, different way, and that Tsukasa acted on impulse for her. I want to give her credit for challenging him, and I want to give Tsukasa credit for everything he feels in response.

this arc is the longest and most thoroughly we've explored yorishiro Tsukasa .... he is not such an unstoppable or immovable force.

[irlkisukeurahara]

omg byahisa t4t....pls tell me more (if you want)

oh no, now you've done it..

You've activated Miles' inability to shut the fuck up...

BYAHISA T4T 🙌🙌🙌🙌🙌

*cough*

Okay--

I don't normally give characters deadnames. I only have one for Byakuya here because I've made transphobia relevant in this, plus it's for ease of reference. I also kinda threw in stuff about the ByaHisa OC at the end because it goes in tandem with the headcanons, so cw for a brief mention of seahorse dad Byakuya I guess (google it)

Here we are, back in the 18th century, to the birth of a one Kuroishi Kuchiki. Initially planned to just be the first born child of Sojun, upon realizing how poor his and his wife's health are, they settled for just one.

The little girl never behaved in a way they deemed standard. Rambunctious and wild, playing in the mud, eating things she shouldn't, cussing at Ginrei etc etc...

And here's something else they realized, this child never taking any interest in men. Ever. While Sojun was more or less happy to have a surviving child at all, Ginrei wasn't so complacent. How is the Kuchiki line going to continue if the granddaughter doesn't like boys?

Homophobia and transphobia aren't exactly as standard in the Soul Society as you'd expect, they're mostly tolerant of it due to Shunsui and Jushiro being as openly queer as they are. But let's just say that the Kuchiki family was a bit more, let's say old fashioned. Didn't quite move on with the times as much as others did.

Thoughts maybe spread of just getting little Kuro a husband and telling her to fake it until she makes it. But Kuro herself told her father something they didn't expect, something that threw a wrench in their ideas even more.

That "she" hated being called Kuroishi, or just Kuro, or the Kuchiki Clan Daughter, that being a boy fit better. That Byakuya fit better. Sojun accepted his boy with open arms, again not nearly as concerned with grandkids. Considering how much struggle it took to have Byakuya, and how he'd never have any other kids, Byakuya's happiness was top priority to him. But the pride of the Kuchiki family seemed to matter more to Ginrei.

At first, their decision was to completely ignore Byakuya's gender expression. To disregard it, make him pretend to be Kuro his entire life, marry a man, and continue the line. The child was finally happy with who he was, after 150 or so years! Who were they to try and take that away from him?!

So he ran, ran off into a certain Rukongai district you might remember. A little district called Inuzuri.

He'd have to face them again eventually, and he'd be in deep shit when he did, but maybe he thought to himself that he was prolonging the inevitable. He'd started considering rash measures, and even almost took a plummet.

But then, a local girl saved him. Kept him away talking things through with him. They sat down together, trying to understand what was going on.

"They're considering pretending I'm a girl. I mean, I was born one. But I'm not a girl. But they're going to make me be a girl so that I could be a good Kuchiki like I'm supposed to. Auntie couldn't have kids and I'm my father's only son, so I'm really their only hope." The girl managed to make Byakuya admit, after talking him off a ledge. It's the first time he verbalized his thoughts, it was kind of cathartic. Listening, she gave him a pat on the back.

"I know what it feels like. Kind of. I mean, I was never a noble or anything, but... I get the feeling of parents trying to make you pretend to be your born gender to look good, when that's never how you've felt."

A friend, a friend who could understand him. That's what Byakuya needed. He was far detached from people, how could anyone understand the life of Byakuya Kuchiki? There was no one. Everyone in the other three clans were a bunch of shabby grownups he assumed were cis who were fine with their position, but Byakuya was a child. A child who was confused, told by his father to live his life by his own rules and for himself, yet told by his grandfather to live life for the clan. As a kid, he just couldn't choose! He couldn't understand himself, how could anyone understand him?

But this girl, she got him. They understood each other, even if they lived in different worlds!

Byakuya started sneaking off to see this girl, the girl by the name of Hisana. If he wasn't training, at a meeting, or talking to his dad, he was sneaking out to meet Hisana. So many times, in fact, that it made Ginrei angry. He was beginning to demand that Byakuya be wed by someone who will keep him down. And Byakuya ran away again, but this time, with slightly different intentions.

"Hisana, I know we're not dating, but will you please marry me?"

Huh? Hisana was taken aback by his asking. Where did this come from? He went on, saying that she deserved better and he could provide her with luxury. That she didn't deserve to suffer, cold and alone.

One condition, she said.

He asked, what condition? Oh, I'll do anything!

She said that she'll marry him if the Kuchiki family swears to find and adopt her baby sibling (brother or sister depends on whether it coexists with t4t RenRuki or not lol) Of course, Byakuya agreed.

How to convince the Kuchiki family? She was but a scruffy 17-20 year old that'd been dead for a few years at this point. Byakuya was Byakuya. For years, Ginrei was not budging, up until Hisana revealed to them that she was trans. Then, his attitude began to change.

Their marriage would be allowed! There was one condition. They'd have to have a kid. Then Byakuya's gender identity would be respected, and history would be rewritten. Rewritten to believe that Byakuya was always a male, and that Kuro never existed. Telling the world that Hisana was pregnant with the child of the Kuchiki family after the fact, hiding all truth from the Soul Society. Byakuya was scared at first, but this was better. The best case scenario, even if it was already terrifying.

Once they were both considered "adults," they were married.

A year into the marriage, off in his study Byakuya spent his days, writing and doing calligraphy. Out in the Rukongai Hisana continued to spend her days, looking and searching for the missing child, joining the search parties made up by Kuchiki servants. A year they spent majorly apart, as Byakuya wasn't permitted to go anywhere for some time. One day, she's frantically ordered back to the manor. She left the search party, being escorted home. There she was, entering the manor, assuming the worst. But instead, there Byakuya was, sat there with their baby son.

Instantly, Hisana loved him. While she was concerned at first that he'd just feel like a tool to make them learn to respect Byakuya, she instantly was drawn to the bubbly little baby. Ginrei stayed true to his word. History was rewritten, and they even faked a maternity picture with Hisana. The Kuchiki family was satisfied, and Byakuya and Hisana were happy! The only thing that would make it all better would be if the child that Hisana left behind was with them too.

While Byakuya took on a primary caring role for their son, Hisana helped of course. She still joined searches all the time, but started to do so every other day instead. She had two priorities in life, and she tried her best to balance them.

But then, Hisana fell ill. She couldn't go anywhere, helping search or helping raise her son. A few years following, she'd be bedridden. Byakuya would visit her at every opportunity, talking to her about anything to make her feel better. Though usually, it was about their son's development. He showed her when their son could walk, made him repeat things when he started to talk. That, and anything to make her smile. She slowly lost her ability to sit up, and he'd still visit her every day with their son. But one day, her energy was gone. She could hardly even look at them, but he still came by. He held her hand, with their son in his other arm. As he swore once more on his promise to find her baby sibling, she passed away. And from then on forward, Byakuya took after his grandfather more and more, without the influence of his father or his wife, his humanity couldn't cling on. It became repressed into the deepest recesses of his mind. His smile died with his wife.

[bumblewarden]

First a rapid fire reaction to your drawings! They are! So good!!!!

I stand by what i said in the notes about Valendrian's next gray hair forming then and there! The poor man doesn't deserve half of the stress they put him through XD

If Novhen's already a Warden going through the stages of "Astala?????" to "Duncan, you went to my sister's wedding and didn't bring me?" to "Wait. Did you recruit my sister 🗡" He can't actually do anything to his CO, but that's beside the point. Why is she here 🗡🗡🗡

Also, the Team Rocket bit! All the trouble for a fraction of the incompetence! Loghain better watch out! And Morri too from the looks of the next one XD

Them napping on each other is so sweet too 😭😭😭 There's not a lot in the way of comforting presences during this shit year, but they still have each other at least. And then you just hit me with the Angst :'( Poor things

*Exhale*

I hope that's able to give them justice, but there's only so much i can say before i need to put the readmore on. I left some angst for you under there

It's worth noting that my Companion Novhen isn't a Warden. He's wandering with a mercenary group up until Lothering because he is either wanted in Denerim (all that thieving caught up with him) or trying to find his kidnapped daughter (who will only exist if i take this route). In Lothering, they try to turn to robbing refugees, and he has a messy falling out with them because that’s not the kind of thief he is and joins up with the Warden instead

I’m just way too emotionally attached to this codex entry lmao

I also make him non-Warden for theoretical game balance purposes. It takes a lot of weight out of the decision to have the Dark Ritual if you have a Warden on the side who’s been flirting with her for the past year. She would probably skip asking the player entirely if that were the case

Also also, i want to allow him the opportunity of being a father one way or another

All of these options you've presented are fun, and personally, i think it's cool to go back and sample from multiple AUs. But if our primary concern is 🔥Angst Factor🔥, double Wardens may be the way to go for our primary lens. Of the two versions of that, i'm partial to Novhen getting recruited a little earlier for ease of plot. I’m sure he was forced to leave Denerim under some sketchy circumstances. He probably then got caught in some other illegal act he was doing to survive, and Duncan conscripted him. It also means i can keep him sharing his Joining with Alistair :3

But who gets the mabari :0 Griffon vs Rascal, fight!

I don’t know how much he’d feel able to tell about the Joining. (He would’ve sent a letter home after his Joining to let them know he was still alive and forced to join the Grey Wardens, so she should at least be able to go in knowing he would probably be there.) He’s been with the Wardens a while at that point and was starting to develop loyalty. Not enough to overrule his need to protect his family but enough to not betray why the Joining is so bad. Still, he’ll insist with every tactic he knows that she has to go home, she has to leave before the Joining. But she can’t, and she doesn’t

He probably knows enough to know that any doubt makes your odds of surviving makes your odds plummet (don't remember if that's canon or fanon though), and they’re already too low for comfort. He doesn’t want to directly mention that it can kill you, but she’s going to learn that on her own anyway. Once he realizes he can't save her, he just tells her he knows she will make it through

He’s still mad at Duncan though. That man’s absolutely complicit, and there had to have been another way

Then, we need to figure out who gets the HoF title and if that same elf would also be WC and/or arl(essa). Alistair doesn't get the HoF title when he makes the ultimate sacrifice, but that's probably chalked up to the pc doing all of the work the entire game prior. Between the twin Tabrises, those titles probably would just go to whoever slayed it

Before the Battle of Denerim, Warden Novhen would try to tell Alistair and Warden Astala that he will make the sacrifice if Riordan is unable. This is half because he sees it as part of his duty to Morrigan and as the father but also, if it fails, he couldn’t feel right making someone else suffer for it, even if logically they would have died anyway if he did nothing. Alistair opposes this suggestion, and it doesn't sound like Astala would be too thrilled either. (They've been through so much together! Their family shouldn't have to lose anyone else! Oh, that sounds bad said out loud. Sorry, Alistair.) He might try to pull the seniority card (well. senior to her. equal seniority to alistair), but i don't think that'd actually work much here

In the actual combat, Novhen is an archer and manning the ballistae, so he's as far from the action as he can be on that roof. He does also get knocked down pretty bad (i had that one post where i described how that battle went but ten seconds ago his chest was ripped open) and, in canon, is only conscious because of pure adrenaline. It would probably be pretty easy for Astala to take that final blow for herself if she took the initiative to do so

So much for the "Let's not die. Okay?" :( And if she loses him this time, it'll stick…

For the king of Orzammar, the gameplay could always reflect Astala's opinions by just controlling *how much* she disapproves instead of approval vs disapproval. I think BW's done that a small handful of times(?) While not a huge supporter of either option (damn nobles), i think Novhen could buckle down enough to give some small approval for Bhelen. He makes improvements for the Casteless, and Novhen's desparate enough to take that. He's also gonna disapprove should the Warden establish a Chantry in Orzammar

If Novhen is a Warden and thus dating Morrigan, he's absolutely killing Flemeth. He's not… overly fond of the idea of killing someone's mother, but he convinces himself it's okay because she's very clearly abusive and it's either her or Morrigan. As a non-Warden, he has roughly the same line of thought but is much less convinced of it

On a related topic, with the Zevran romance, i think it sounds like Astala would be obvious enough with her crush for Novhen to step back before getting involved himself and also it's no fun if he hogs all the smoochquesting for himself XD Normally, Novhen would very much be the type to silently step back and pretend [he was never even attracted to him why would even think that], but in this specific situation, he might field for some gossip in the process. "So, you've been sitting pretty close to Zevran lately, nudge nudge." He's still going to be watching him like a hawk tho, and a few threats wouldn't be unexpected (the staring him down is So accurate) (And Morrigan definitely understands when she's getting lectured as a bird. She just pretends not to. It's quite amusing to watch)

When Astala tries to confront him about his little witchy crush, he's going to first lean into the tried-and-true tactic ~deny everything~, but i have faith she can get him to admit it XD

Astala: Then why have you been sleeping in Morrigan's tent every night for the past week now?

Novhen: She happens to know many fascinating stories.

Astala: Does she? And you haven't invited me to listen in? I'm hurt, Novhen/Novris/Vhen (whichever she would deign to tease him as)

Also, oooooo, if both are Wardens, Novhen does have to be the one to do Witch Hunt for ship reasons, but imagine in a slight AU of that worldstate if for whatever reason (maybe they had a time sensitive lead + pressure from Weisshaupt + Novhen was bedbound at the time), it was Astala instead. He would probably give her a small list of questions to ask (How was the pregnancy? Are she and the baby safe? Is she ready now for him to share the ritual with Weisshaupt?) to which she'd only be prepared to answer the last one

And Novhen is taking total offense he takes when he whispers a suggestion she doesn't accept. He did all that conspiring just for her! They had a system!

Oh! If Astala tends to side with Valendrian, how would she have reacted to the time Novhen took their cousins and tried to "borrow" the shield? Would it have been a situation where would have had to tactfully not bring it up to her before he went to do it? Maybe she was sent to lead the stick/sword gathering instead?

Also, i can imagine him employing Shianni as a distraction on occasion if he were doing something he knew Astala would disapprove of. He used Soris as the distraction exactly once, but he was acting even more nervous than usual, and Astala saw through it immediately XD

Yeah, you've got Novhen down about not being great about speaking to crowds. When he was younger, it was more due to just general Quiet Kid Syndrome, but by the time he's learned to be more assertive, he had already earned some throat scarring from the smallpox that makes it a bit painful for him to project his voice 😔 He's much better suited for one-on-one communication

I think that's a good timeline for Adaia. We could have her imprisoned long enough for Astala's entire sick arc then have her return in poor health. She wouldn't be able to return to her previous condition between then and the fateful day, but she would be able to be up and about again. She wasn't recovered enough to even begin planning a return to crime on the day she was murdered. It was supposed to just be errands

This way, Astala gets her chance to fester and her chance to confront

Novhen would think her rude for becoming distant while Adaia's recovering, but wouldn't think it worthy of commenting on. Once Astala lets it out though, he wouldn't take well to her criticizing their ma at all. It's an emotionally charged time for all of them. He'd maybe say a few words he'd regret, insult her own lack of rogue talents in the process. He'd take any post-mortem criticism of Adaia even worse, i would think. He already idolized her in life and now is struggling to cope with her death. It's… not a happy topic of conversation

And just put the booze on the top shelf while he's sleeping, it might at least slow his consumption enough for him to wait until he's sober enough to climb to get more

For work, Novhen smuggles for Alarith. I'm sure Astala's thrilled that he's establishing himself in the same line of work that ultimately got their mother killed. Alarith's whole business is run under-the-table, and especially when the gates are forcibly shut, smuggling is very important to the livelihood of the alienage. Outside of that, Novhen'll take the occassional legal gig elsewhere. He doesn’t have very consistent work, but he’s able to contribute his fair portion to maintaining the household finances. She can try to dissuade him from the smuggling, but even if he were to stop entirely, he'd still find himself resorting to burglary by the end of the month to retrieve the remaining coins needed from traders with weak locks

(I think you've Alarith's age set a lot closer to the Warden's than i do, so i can also just swap him out here for whoever ran that store before him. It's more important to be able to tease Astala for her former crush on him than the specifics of who Novhen worked for)

I like Astala starting work at Adaia's first disappearance at one place to make up for the lost income, stopping once she's returned, and resuming at the same place if they'll let her back or elsewhere if they won't after her death. It's very dramatic and emphasizes the (if sometimes complicated and bittersweet) childhood bliss that Adaia being around once represented and really drives home how hard her absence affected them

Hopping back to the Dark Ritual, with both as Wardens, Novhen will obviously perform the ritual, but about after that… 🤔 The thing is, as much of a liar Novhen is, he does not like extending that dis/courtesy to his family. He's going to be so torn about whether or not to tell her about the Dark Ritual

To Astala, i think he will confide as much as Morrigan performed a ritual to save the life of the Warden who took the final blow (bc she's going to have questions about that too) and that she was pregnant when she left. Her business was done here, so so was she. He'll emphasize that both the ritual and the child are very secret and nobody else can know, but he's also going to do as much as he can to keep her from putting together that those two things are related. "I don't know how the ritual worked. I just trusted her"

He's good at hiding his feelings, but Astala knows him too well, especially as impacted as she would have been by that year after Adaia's death where he was basically a zombie. And he definitely needs someone to cry to

It's going to be about just after Witch Hunt that Novhen becomes more willing to share the mostly-truth of the matter. Morrigan just needed to be in a less vulnerable position than pregnant and on-the-run before he could be allowed to share, but she doesn't want Urthemiel to be the only old god able to be saved. He does still lie a little bit about the archdemon soul being cleansed vs destroyed. People wouldn’t like that

Also!!!!!!! A thing to consider is that if he's not the only one available to protect his family and lead the Wardens in this verse, he might follow Morrigan through the eluvian after all 👀. He would clear the idea by Astala first before even leaving (because he may get an oppurtunity and he misses her so bad and wants to meet his son! but also astala might need him there), but if he gets the nod from both her and Morri, he's going to quickly pen a letter for Ariane and Finn to bring back to her after Morrigan's agreement. He doesn't have a lot of time for anything too elegant, but he can at least say goodbye. Just a short little–

I'm leaving with Morrigan. When they ask, tell Da and them I got reassigned to Rivain. The truth will only disappoint them. If Weisshaupt asks, I'm dead. I don't know if I'll be able to write you where I'm going, but I will if I can.

There should be a book being delivered with this letter. Morrigan claims it holds some early information on the Grey Wardens and the Taint that may prove useful. It also includes details of the ritual she used to save us. You may share that information at your discretion, but for what it's worth, I'm sorry about what you'll find.

Love you,

Novhen

(maybe not those exact words but something short and sweet like that- anyway that's what i assume her gift at the end of witch hunt is and it's especially useful in kickstarting the search for the cure)

For a brief detour to an angsty AU until the orange text returns, our prerequisites are 1) Morrigan and Novhen eventually return to Thedas but are unable to visit Astala and/or share a return address and 2) neither them nor Astala and Zevran are able to find a Cure. So yeah, a little death cw for the next few paragraphs :(

For the next many years starting around 9:25, he'd send semi-regular letters to Vigil's Keep. (Might need someone to forward his letters to Antiva if she's moved on by then.) Because he can't provide a safe or stable return address, he can't receive any letters back. He mostly tells her mundane stuff like how quickly Kieran's growing and different plum pastry recipes from across Thedas

Wardens get up to thirty from their Joining if they're lucky. Most are not Avernus Georg is an outlier and not to be counted

Eventually, Astala has to go on her Calling. She had more regular exposure to darkspawn after the Blight and fought in closer quarters. She caught the Blightsickness before her Joining. She didn't have Morrigan's arcane knowledge to preserve her. It makes sense she would go first even if she had a few months advantage

The letters continue to arrive even after her Calling, but her successor or a former housemate (depending if she was in Amaranthine or Antiva) gathers them together unopened out of respect. Soon, they stop. Time passes, and out of curiosity, the successor/housemate opens the final one.

The paper is tear-stained and written in a familiar tone. The name signed at the bottom rings a bell. If this is the successor, they recognize the name as the Commander's brother who was reported KIA. Clearly, she was lying for him if he had been contacting her regularly all this time. If this is the housemate, they also recognize the name as Astala's brother but likely already knew he hasn't been dead for the past 30 years. He disappeared those years ago to protect his wife and child

The final letter says that the Blight has progressed too far in him and not even Morrigan's magic can prolong him any further. He states an intent to die while still himself shortly after sending the letter. There's a bitter note that he doesn't know if she’s still around to read it, but he hopes she is

Sorrysorrysorry

And now a happier palate cleanser: wipe those prereqs aside. We're going to post-Inquisition, pre-DA:D.

One day, a hooded Warden who smells vaguely of pickles arrives at Vigil's Keep (or her residence in Antiva, if that’s the case), and he's got with him two courser hounds. He claims to be Warden Ben'cyrion* of Rivain and requires an audience with the arlessa

*Ben'cyrion being “ben Cyrion” (son of Cyrion) with a more elven grammar. I have elaborate headcanons about elven naming conventions but part of that would be that even when they have family names, most elves usually would use the p/matronym of whichever parent didn't have to move for the wedding approximately. Astala would recognize it as him

Now that their little family unit is safe again, they're all going to combine their knowledges and expedite the search for the Cure!

Most of the Jewish culture i determined was better to attach to the alienage rather than the Cult of Fen'Harel - fewer unfortunate implications. Besides, that was the group originally with that intent by the devs. I mean, alienages are the ghettos

Alfish is definitely for the alienage at large and not just the Cult. It's much easier for a whole community to keep a language alive than one or two families. In fact, there are several different alienage languages depending where you are! Idk the exact delineation, but Alfish is in Ferelden and parts of the Marches

There's also a Rivaini Elven (doesn't have a name yet) that my Adaia grew up speaking and thus taught Novhen and Soris (Shianni picked up a little but moved in too late to gain their fluency. She's better at hearing than speaking.) That language is actually unique among city elven languages for actually being part of the Dalish language family instead of the local human language's. Despite that, i imagine it also shares a decent amount of vocabulary with Antivan Elven based purely on geographical proximity, so if (we import my language hcs for the following imagine and) Astala picked any of it up, she may recognize some words whenever she visits the alienages in Antiva :D

And Alfish is very very WIP (currently avoiding verbs like the plague so grammar is at a standstill, but Elven is mostly a cipher anyway, so it'll be pretty similar to English grammar), but i can send you the excel document of what i currently have for Alfish if you want. Well, maybe i should tidy it and transfer it into Google spreadsheet first, so it actually can be shared. I've been meaning to put it on a more stable server anyway

So!! I've been wanting to do this for a while, but life got in the way, so now I'm here to take that thing up again because!!! Fun!!!! This is about the relationships between OCs, and I don't want to impose anything but. Regarding how Novhen and Astala would get along:

What if they HAD grown up together? Maybe not in the same family (although, it would be fun 👀👀👀👀👀👀 they are very similar and very different from each other in different aspects. For example both are very loyal and community oriented, but also Astala is loud and boisterous while Novhen is quieter and more underhanded), but definitely the same Alienage. They'd know each others' quirks and habits. Maybe Novhen got frustrated with Astala because she'd always hide in these really obvious spots when playing hide and seek and Astala in turn would never be able to find Novhen? Maybe Novhen would at some point have stolen a plum tart for her and maybe Astala would've helped him against another kid who made fun of Novhen? Maybe, if we wanted them to meet up later during the Blight, Astala had to move away from Denerim at some point. I think she's a bit older than Novhen; maybe she got married elsewhere. Or, if not, now we gave more elves storming Vaughan's estate, which is alwats fun. I think Novhen would get to lead that one operation until Nelaros's death, because before that, stealth does seem to be the best option.

I think these two would get along well, differences aside. Astala would make an effort to lower her if needed, and having a familiar face to lean on during the Blight year would probably be a big comfort to them both. I think they'd be comfortable enough with each other to talk about the recruitment and how it didn't exactly happen willingly; they could gripe about nobles and politics; they could just. Sit in silence after Broken Circle and try and digest Sloth's nightmare. They could kill the slavers at the Alienage together!!! I think having a like-minded person from the same cultural background would help enormously.

One thing Astala probably wouldn't be on board with is the Cult of Fen'Harel. She'd let Novhen practice alright and defend him if accusations about this were levelled against him, but I think she would either have fallen out of it if she'd ever been introduced to it (it didn't save Adaia after all, so...), or never warmed up to the idea of this elvhen trickster god

These are my thoughts as far as they go. What do you think? Also I hadn't thought of it, but if you want to move this conversation to DMs, they're open ^^

(And if this doesn't tickle your fancy anymore, feel free to ignore ^^)

👀👀👀👀👀 I am eating this ask up like breakfast. Or, er, ramen. Which is the thing i am actually eating atm. But yes yes yes to all of this, i love it so much

Full response under the readmore for length, but i'm realizing now my response is mostly about them as kids 😅 Oops

[Ask Game]

The way i play with companion!Novhen, i'd assume he and Astala are probably either siblings or cousins (i waffle), except this time on their mothers' sides. I don't know Astala's exact age, but Novhen was born in *pulls out notes* Wintermarch of 9:7 Dragon. If we try to stagger them based on Adaia's death, that's probably close to a decade between them which seems a tad bit higher than it should be. We'll just have to dance around that matter

Even if Astala isn't significantly older, there's probably never a single moment where he's taller than her XD Add onto that that girls tend to hit puberty first, there's gonna be quite the height difference around age 10

But yes, their personalities go in very different directions but are probably pretty compatible, especially if given the benefit of a shared childhood! They're both very sociable, but i suspect most people like Astala more, especially authority figures. She's much less of a troublemaker, and Novhen definitely took a while to come into his own as a social mastermind. (This also would make her the ideal candidate for a distraction whenever Novhen’s a-scheming. That’s gonna do her a lot of favors when trying to get him to steal plum tarts for her XD These two are the real blight as far as anyone in the alienage is concerned XDD)

Oh, actually! If they knew each other, i can imagine pretty well him practicing with or studying Astala to get better at social situation! And clearly it worked! (A: "Ok now make an angry face... You just look like you can't find a chamberpot. You have to scrunch your eyebrows like this." *jams her thumb down his forhead*)

Astala seems to prefer her hair shorter during the Blight, but how was it as a child? Because if it were in some sort of puff, i can imagine her child-level object permanence resulting in her hiding in an empty barrel with the puff still peeking over the top! (Artist's Rendition Below)

I don’t think he’d be too frustrated with her poor stealth outside of team games at least! (If they’re partnered is another story…) He does sometimes tease her that she’s not going to be a very good criminal when she gets bigger. Idk, how would she respond to that? Because how does she feels about the fact that she's not going to follow in her mother's footsteps (or how aware of that she'd be as a child) or maybe she would retort about how she’s already bigger or something else? Definitely a lot of ways to take that one lol

But also the idea of Novhen as alienage king of hide and seek is kinda cute. He's usually the last one left (all that damn thief training), so it’s not unheard of to see a parade of Astala, Shianni, Soris, and whoever else they've wrapped into their game (which with Astala could be quite a number) turning the alienage upsidedown to find him. There's probably at least one time he gets found in the first minute, and he thinks he's going to die of embarrassment. Because of that, they almost never let him be a hider in the first round. Sometimes when he’s hiding, they'll accidentally pick up seekers who weren't even playing along the way because they want to see him knocked down a peg XD That's what happens when you win too much!

Astala probably has him beat at wrestling tho! And the game where i imagine they’re most evenly matched would be arm wrestling. As an archer, Novhen has insane upper body and especially shoulder strength, but Astala has insane everywhere strength

On the less competitive side, imagine them as dance partners as little kids ☺️ Astala’s probably the more enthusiastic one about it, but i’d imagine she could drag him into it Easy whether through blackmail or Ole Reliable (puppy dog eyes). There have to be lots of events in the alienage that call for dancing, so it’s good to have a go-to dance partner! And if they ever get a Silly Urge while dancing, the one thing that i’ve found little kids most reliable to do is spin so fast they nearly make themselves sick, and when there’s two of them spinning each other, there’s no stopping them until the centrifugal force throws them both to the ground. At least they’re having fun lol

The Cult of Fen'Harel thing makes sense. I wouldn't expect Astala to be into that. I imagine in this case that Cyrion and Adaia agreed to expose the children to both sets of beliefs, so they could choose once they got older

It's a good thing Novhen's good at keeping matters hush because otherwise Astala would likely get stuck constantly mediating between Novhen and Ilanlas on matters of religion 🤭

Tbh Novhen would slightly begrudge her for choosing the Chantry, but i don't think he'd ever let her know if he could help it. It's just not worth it, and you can't talk about that without talking about Adaia's death which nobody is excited to talk about. Still, it's a potential source of drama, esp as the politics of DA:D are winding up

Back in the present day, if the endgame configuration is one where they live in the same location (which i think could only be the case if they were both companions), Novhen would offer her once for him to educate her child/ren in the way of the Cult of Fen'Harel and/or the Vir Banal'ras fighting style, probably get denied at least on the first one, and never bring it back up. He knows she's Andrastian and also wouldn't expect her to teach them that fighting style herself (too rogue-based), but if he had permission, he'd want to at least try to expose them to their family's traditions, so they could make a choice themselves like Novhen and Astala did

And honestly, if he's present for the origin, once Nelaros dies, Novhen would more than happily hand leadership of the mission over to Astala. Stealth only goes so far, and she has first dibs on revenge #SupportWomen

And with Unrest in the Alienage! As soon as Caladrius is dead, Novhen is scampering over his corpse to pick the lock on Cyrion's cage. Doesn't even wait for someone else to pilfer the key. Astala is free to react to that little scene however she wishes, and we get the whole Tabris family reunion after

Whoever’s Warden, i imagine those two leaning on each other a lot for emotional support during the Blight because not only are they the only alienage elves in the party, they’re family (or at the least childhood friends). Once we personalize the Broken Circle dreams, they get upsetting fast. If either of them get sent into that mission (or Maker forbid both of them), they’re definitely going to need to share a blanket by the fire for a minute

EDIT: the paragraph looks like it's been eaten but also! Novhen would be very cautious about Astala's Zevran romance at first. ("Yes, Stala, he's very dreamy, but let's not forget he's only here because he was hired to kill you.") We know he's very protective, and they're both so eldest sibling-coded

[littlepadika]

Hi!! Can I please request 💕Din, 🔥enemies to lovers, 💅dom!reader ??? Thank you!!☺️☺️☺️

OOOH I love dom!reader with Din mwahahaha this one is hot and takes a nosedive into soft. Your fave @axshadows?

500 follower celebration

Warnings: Male receiving oral, Dom reader

Din despised you. Whenever he'd be close to catching a bounty you would swoop in and finish the job yourself, stealing his thunder. You didn't do any work yourself. Din tried everything to shake you from his trail. He tried to lay a trap, he tried to split the reward, he even tried to kill you once. Nothing worked. You always slipped through his grasp.

Your conflict was coming to a head as Karga was tired of the constant bickering.

"Work it out you two or no pucks."

"Find someone else to steal from." Din glared up at you from his seat.

"But I like annoying you, Mando." You smirked. "Fine..." You groaned dramatically. "How about a deal? We both go after the same bounty. If you get him first then I'll leave you alone."

"You'll just come and steal it at the last second like you always do." Din shook his head.

"I'll play fair. I'll even give you a head start."

"I don't need a head start." Din leaned forward menacingly only you weren't scared at all. In fact you smiled.

"Let me finish." You held up your hands. "If you win, I leave you alone. If I win, things proceed as usual and you can't complain. Do we have a deal?"

"If I win, you should give me all the credits you stole from me."

"No way. Finders keepers."

Din grit his teeth under his helmet. Your little grin made something inside him ball up tight and sometimes he just wanted to throw you over his lap and-and- he didn't let himself think those things right now.

"I want a better deal." He folded his arms.

"You're not exactly in a position to negotiate. I'm perfectly happy with our current arrangement."

You loved playing with Mando, making him stutter and sigh. It started off as a power trip, making a Mandalorian putty in your hands. He tried to kill you once but he hesitated at the last moment. You realized his hatred for you wasn't pure, it was tangled with need. You knew he would miss you if you just left him by himself and you sure as hell would miss him too.

"How about..." You saunter over to him, perching yourself on the table in front of him. You saw him stiffen immediately, clenching his hands into fists on the seat below. "If you win... you can do whatever you want to me. You could try and kill me again, but something tells me that's not what you really want." You watched as the visor of his helmet turned towards you. You felt your heart pound faster knowing you had him in your grasp. "See... you could shut me up with a bullet in my skull or with your cock in my mouth. Decisions decisions, Mando."

With you left him dumbstruck at the table.

"Karga- We've reached a deal. One puck and we'll make it a race."

"One puck huh?"

"And don't make it an easy one." You hold your hand out. Karga rolls his eyes shoving two pucks into your hands.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ It was a close one. Both of you were at the same cantina spying on the target. You happened to have more natural assests that drew the targets attention. What an idiot, you smirked ready to drop the sedative into his glass. What you didn't expect was for Din to blast the idiot to hell from across the cantina.

"I win." Din cheered, strolling up to pull the lifeless body off the counter.

"We said bring him in warm!" You glared at Mando.

"We never agreed on that."

"Didn't we?" You frowned.

Mando shook his head. He lugged the body over his shoulder with ease. "Come on, let's get out of here before the imps are on us."

Outside on the street it hit you that Mando won the bet technically. This would maybe be the last time you saw him if what he asked as reward was for you to leave him forever. The warmth in the pit of your stomach hoped that he'd ask for something different.

"You won, Mando." You stopped at the end of the street. He turned, the bounty still on his shoulder. "My ship is that way. Shall I take off never to return?"

The breeze made his cape flutter, but otherwise he was a statue. Conversely it made you squirm where you stood, tugging at your shirt which now felt too tight for some reason.

"No." He said quietly, so quiet you almost missed it.

"Then what do you want?"

"Will you let me put the bounty away before we talk?"

"Fine." You shrugged nonchalantly though you were still nervous. "Lead on."

You had never been on Mando's ship before. It was dirty and breaking down but it softened him. Gave him some personality. He was less intimidating. The clutter and dusty knick knacks made him so human.

"So..." You place your hands on your hips trying to project confidence though you were becoming more and more anxious. "What'll it be, Mando?" Was this the end?

Din was freaking out. He stood on a shaky pedestal he had built to stand up to you. He had only pretended to be arrogant and capable. He played into his appeal towards you but now the game had ended. He was proud of his abilities to catch bounties, track targets, to kill, but his confidence ended there. He had no skills when it came to sex let alone with pretty women like you. You expected so much from him from the way you teased and talked crudely. Din knew he’d never live up to that. He didn’t even know where to start. His desire was bottled up in him with no clear outlet. Just a general direction towards you.

"Mando?" Your gaze softened a little. You realized perhaps he wasn’t going to send you away. You almost smiled as he rocked on his heels. The nervous tick was strangely endearing.

"I'm not going to kill you. I want-" Din struggled to find the words. "What you said in the cantina. You said I could silence you..."

You furrowed your brow in confusion. What did you say? You couldn’t remember-

"When you said I could put my-my cock in your mouth." Din felt his cheeks heat up. He felt himself harden in is pants just at the dirty word.

"Did I say that?" You chuckled. “I guess I did. Is that what you want?"

Din nodded. He waited for you to take charge, tell him what to do, but for some strange reason you were waiting for him.

"You've never done this have you?" You realized, your smile falling off your face. You felt bad for how you treated him this whole time. Maker, you probably made him uncomfortable.

"No." Din looked down in shame. "Fuck-This was dumb. Just go away."

"Mando..." You stepped towards him placing a hand on his arm. The first time you've really touched him. "I'm sorry. I wasn't judging. Most guys don’t like me to be in charge.”

Din cringed further at the mention of your copious previous experience.

“Mando… look at me please-“ and he did feeling some of his dread subside. Your warm reassuring hand felt so good. “I'm happy to show you everything. I want to make you feel good. If that’s what you want.”

“I’m sorry.” He grumbled. He hated feeling so vulnerable. He wanted to explain himself, give excuses for his lack of experience, but the truth was he hadn’t found anyone he was interested in until you.

“There’s nothing to apologize for. Now will you let me do this for you?” He looked at you, searching for honesty. There wasn’t a hint of disgust or doubt on your face.

Din nodded, feeling his stomach lurch in excitement. He felt safe with you which was another completely foreign feeling for him.

“Thank you, good boy.” The word shot through him, making him stand up straighter. You chuckled. “You like that?”

Din nodded shyly.

“Go and sit down.” You pointed at the crate against the wall. Din obeyed looking at you again for acknowledgement. You smiled kneeling down below him. “Good boy. See you’re a pro already.” Din blushed at your praise wanting to continue pleasing you. You slid your hands up his thighs slowly. “You can stop me at any point. Just say stop. My only rule is you have to tell me if I’m making you feel good. I wanna hear you.”

Din nodded his understanding. You raised an eyebrow. “Okay.” He said.

“Good boy. I know you can’t remove your armor which is fine. But can I take your cock out?”

Din nodded biting his lip. His dick was already straining against its confines. He exhaled sharply as you tugged down his waistband just far enough to pull him out. The only piece of skin exposed.

“You’re beautiful, Mando.” You cooed, stroking the warm length gently. You couldn’t wait to feel him in your mouth. A low broken cry cracked the voicecoder. “That’s it… feel good baby?” You stare right into his visor. Din swallowed harshly and nodded rapidly trying to keep from blowing his load.

“Tell me.” You reminded him of the rule.

“Yes!” He huffed. “It feels good. Please more.”

“We’re just getting started.” You promised opening you mouth and letting a dollop of saliva hit the head of his cock.”

“Oh Kriff…” Din pounded his fist against the crate. You continued your slow movements. You didn’t want to push him. He seemed lost in pleasure and you felt yourself warm at his trust in you. You slowly lowered your mouth on him, keeping your suction soft. He whined above you, his thighs flexing under your hands. You flicked your eyes up to him. His head was thrown back. You could see just a small slice of golden neck. He was sucking air between his teeth. The edges of the crate groaned under his grip.

“So-so good.” He mumbled between shallow breaths. You chuckled. He was trying so hard poor thing.

“It’s okay if you cum, Mando. I want you to.”

“But-“ Din’s hips jerked up into your hands. “What about you? I want to- I want-“

“Shh I know baby boy.” You chuckled at his eagerness. Already wanting to jump ahead. “We’ll get there but first you’re going to cum in my mouth.”

And almost on instinct he did, hunching over as ropes and ropes slid into your hot mouth.

“Oh fuck…” He croaked. It was better than anything he had done on his own. Your hot mouth and tongue had brought him so high only to let him plummet into his pleasure with no safety net. He was totally out of control. He didn’t hate it though. He loved it. He wanted more.

He came so much it made your pussy tighten longingly. His groans and sighs were gorgeous. You moaned, getting the last drops.

“Good boy…” You started stroking him back to full mast again. Surging with control and pride.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

My masterlist

Permanet Taglist: @ajeff855 5 @what-iwish-you-knew @kirsteng42 @fan-of-encouragement t @sleep-tight1 @pascalisfairyy @ceniington, @prettypedros 🧁, @pascal-rascal424 @axshadows @prideandpascal @frenchyjuju @pedrosmustache @blackmarketmummy @idreamofboobear @pretty-brown-eyess @persephones-garden @javierpinme @mylittlesenaar @bellaorisa @elinedjarin @beskarboobs @beskar-candy

Din Djarin taglist: @a-skov @pasckles

[lazysublimeengineer]

of glamorous appearances and intrigues

Summary: One shot sequel to Umbrella Man.

Everyone is here for the infamous Takemichi Hanagaki.

And enticing him to join in their own gang has proven to be difficult than they initially thought.

Characters: Senju K., Takemichi H. & I. Wakasa

Draken watched warily the surroundings around them. His face and stomach still hurt like fucking hell after he was punched like a sack of potatoes by that bastard Terano. Nevertheless, that was the least of his worries and his major concern now was the nervous, scrawny blond beside him as every gang leader present here wanted to swoop Takemichi right away into their gang once they managed to convince him to join their team.

Fuck, their crybaby hero was always a magnet for trouble and dangerous people.

He can’t even imagine the clusterfuck that they’ll have to face if Mikey and his gang arrives here all of a sudden.

The tension has gotten too thick now that one could sliced it with a bread knife once the gang leader of Brahman and the top 2 of the three deities, Kawaragi Senju, has arrived here with a dramatic entrance of landing a solid kick to the face of Terano after distracting him of his flying umbrella.

Served him right. That fucking bastard.

Draken glanced at Takemichi with a neutral expression on his face. The poor boy was getting more nervous and bewildered by the events unfolding in front of him. He needed to remind him to keep his shit together and refrain from making any sudden, impulsive decisions that he may predictably regret in the end. However, before he could even speak to him, a loud smacking sound into the ground had caught his attention and his eyes landed on Shion being plummeted by a severe punch of another newcomer that made Draken instantly cautious and alert.

“You’re a disgrace to Black Dragon! So, cut that shit already!” The man yelled ferociously to Shion who was sporting a chin strap style beard.

Draken could see that Takemichi flinched from the corner of his eyes.

“That’s Benkei-kun, from the First Gen.” Inui’s stated calmly and he stored it from the back of his mind.

Well, they’re in deep shit. And it doesn’t really help that the added unwanted guests who kept coming into this fray made his hackles rose.

Draken guessed that he had no choice but to fight their way out of this one. A wide grin crossed his features and readied his body into a fighting stance.

“Its been a while since this engine has gotten heated up! Let’s get this party started!”

Takemichi blinked a few times as he stared at Senju who already stood up to his full height while holding his umbrella calmly and stared at Terano with a blank expression on his face.

“Hold on. This little guy…Is Brahman’s boss?” Takemichi mumbled to himself, a slight look of disbelief and confusion marring his youthful features.

Takemichi knew that he shouldn’t judge a book by its cover and underestimate the people around him. He already learned it the hard way from his past experiences. Nevertheless, it still took him by surprise sometimes on how could a small and young-looking person could pack a certain punch to his knuckles and deliver a roundhouse kick that would send them into a fitful sleep.

It made Takemichi wary yet intrigued by this innocent looking gang leader of the Brahman. He surmised that his deep-seated eyes and ingenuous features had somewhat landed him in being underestimated by the other gangsters who doesn’t know what he’s capable of.

Just like with Shion who was now questioning his presence and capabilities.

But before he could even mull about it for any longer, his attention was fully caught when someone just socked Shion directly into his face that made him fall down like a ragdoll into the ground. The newcomer made him flinched and grimaced in an instant as he looked at them with wide eyes.

“Senju! Brahman is not here today to brawl! Our objective is Hanagaki Takemichi!” The man berated Senju harshly.

“You’re so loud Benkei.” Senju replied dispassionately, unaffected by the man’s infuriating voice directed at him.

“Oh yeah! I’ve completely forgotten it too! They’re here to scout me…But why?” Takemichi tried to rattle every possibility inside his brain for a reason why most of them wanted to recruit him to their own gang suddenly.

“If Takemichi wishes to return to the world of delinquency…He belongs to us, Rokuhara Tandai!” Kakucho announced firmly after he landed a solid punch to Benkei and sent him flying into the corner.

“Kaku-chan!” Takemichi exclaimed in disbelief as his thoughts were cut off by his sudden action and bold announcement.

“Right Takemichi?” Kakucho looked at him square in the eye.

“Uh! Um…” Takemichi replied intelligently. His face was bewildered yet conflicted at the same time.

Does he really need to choose here? Right now? But how could he know if he made the right decision of accepting an offer from one of these gangs? Won’t he regret it in the end?

Takemichi could feel his mind was about to explode from the onslaught of rapid thoughts and information. Quick decision making was never his strong suit and he can probably make a goddamn mistake again from the pressure of this tense situation.

Senju was quiet and was still sporting an unflappable expression on his face despite the bold attack and claims of Kakucho. But his eyes narrowed imperceptibly and his grip tightened on his umbrella. A slight dislike wormed its way to his very being as he watched Kakucho tried to convinced Takemichi to join them by putting him on the spot. He could sensed the waves of conflicting emotions radiating off Takemichi as he tried and failed to give a proper response.

At times like this, they also had to draw out their trump card to neutralize the situation and gain Takemichi’s hand and favor. He wouldn’t let the other gangs swept Takemichi off of his feet and win him over. He’d have to play every trick on this game to outsmart them and win this blond who possessed those electrifying blue eyes which could be their weapon against them. Senju gave a subtle glance to Akashi to which the latter understood and signaled for their top executive to enter the scene.

“This gets the blood pumping, doesn’t it, Waka?” Akashi stated with a lazy grin on his face.

“No, it doesn’t.” A young man suddenly appeared behind Kakucho which made him surprised and fell backwards.

“When did you—?”

“If I cared enough, this guy wouldn’t be standing alive.” Wakasa cut him off with a bored look etched into his face.

‘These monsters come out one after another!’ Takemichi thought incredulously.

“Hey! Don’t just appear glamorously out of nowhere Waka!” Benkei yelled furiously.

“I’m just following Senju’s orders.” Wakasa replied nonchalantly.

A series of murmurs and mutterings then erupted from the other gangsters who were also bystanders from the corners.

Nevertheless, Wakasa tuned them out as his disinterested gaze landed on the infamous Hanagaki Takemichi.

So, this was the one huh?

The notorious morale weapon of the Touman gang in the past.

There was nothing exceptional to this man and he possessed a face that he could probably forget after 2 days of meeting him. Nevertheless, despite his scrawny appearance and the fearful stance in front of them, Takemichi’s eyes caught him the most. It was the shade of a perfect blue that reminds of peaceful skies in the Spring. It’s also expressive and open that he could read every emotion and obvious thought from them. He gleaned that Takemichi was an honest and sincere type of guy.

A refreshing breathe of fresh air into their world that’s full of ragtag delinquents and decrepit liars.

Wakasa casually made his way towards the scrawny blond and crossed his personal space, staring at him intently in the eye.

“Hanagaki Takemichi. We’re here to scout you. Join us, will you?” Wakasa stated in a detached voice as he continued to study the multitude of expressions that flit across his face from his statement alone.

Takemichi stepped backwards, taken aback by Wakasa’s sudden proximity around him and his intense stare. He swallowed thickly as he looked back at him hesitantly. The top executive was sporting a bland yet expectant look on his face as if waiting for his confirmation to join them instead. His long, ponytailed locks that have some streaks of highlights reminded him of Kazutora’s style and his dead yet intense stare reminded him of Sanzu.

A shiver ran down his spine.

He just oozes danger and trouble yet Takemichi can’t tear his eyes away from him as if he was briefly captivated by those intense eyes that was boring right into his soul.

An imperceptible sigh broke him out of his strange trance and he turned his attention to Senju who was looking at them with an indifferent expression on his face.

Senju pursed his lips as his line of sight caught Wakasa invading the personal space of the blond, a flare of annoyance started to creeped into his veins before he inwardly sighs and clamped it down.

Now was not the right time to pay attention to these odd yet irritating sensations that were engulfing his brain.

“Don’t scare him like that Waka. Our main goal is to scout Takemichi.” Senju stated bluntly.

Wakasa stepped away from him. But his gaze lingered on Takemichi for a few seconds before he trained his attention to Senju. “Right. I understand. Sorry if I’m coming out too strong for you Takemichi.”

Takemichi chuckled nervously before he stepped beside Inui, trying to calm down his stuttering heart.

What the hell was happening to him?

“Hanagaki. Those are the living legends. Waka and Benkei. They’re the best duo from the 1st Gen Black Dragon! And then, 1stGen Vice President, “The God of War” Akashi Takeomi. This is…The founding members of 1st Gen Black Dragon.” Inui informed him calmly.

Takemichi absorbed Inui’s words, digesting them inside his head. So, this was the generation led by Mikey’s brother, Shinichiro Sano. And now, these living legends were being led by the mysterious deity in front of them and was coined the “Unmatched Kawaragi Senju.”

With Senju leading these men in the front, it already gave him an idea of how immensely powerful this enigmatic man in front of him. And it made his curiosity peaked around—

“What the hell are you guys hyping each other for?”

Draken’s loud voice cut off his wandering thoughts and looked at him with a befuddled expression on his face.

“Should we continue where we left off?”

Before Takemichi can get a word in, Draken was was already challenging Terano again to a fist fight and cracking his knuckles, a vicious grin was present on his face.

“W-what is going on now?” Takemichi stammered as he could feel his soul leave out of his body.

Were they seriously going to fight now?!

Meanwhile, Wakasa and Senju watched Takemichi from afar, his anxious flailing made them amuse and fascinated.

They both know that getting this blond into their gang would make things more interesting and they’ll make sure to win him over to their team by any means necessary.

(A/N: I don’t own any of these characters from the franchise. Only this insane fic of mine. Apologies in advance if some of them are OOC especially the new ones as I tried to make them in character. Wakasa only appeared in the few panels of the manga but I tried to connect his characterization basing from his few dialogues and behavior to this fic of mine. This was inspired by the events of chapter 213 of the manga. Chapter 213 was funny and wild. The boys are fighting over Takemichi and wants a piece of him. And ofc. The glamorous appearance of the cool yet distant Wakasa has haunted my shipping ass and couldn’t resist adding him to Takemichi’s harem. So, what’s the appropriate ship name for this newborn ship? Wakamichi or Wakatake? Or you have something cooler ship name in mind? Let me know your thoughts in the comment section.)

[delimeful]

or set your teeth against my throat (2)

warnings: illness, mild emeto, bad decisions, miscommunication, short panic attack/flashback

---

As the night turned to dawn and then day, Roman didn’t stop running.

He couldn’t stop, even as his pace grew more and more sluggish, his path erratic. Every time he thought about pausing, finding a good campsite and finally letting himself take a breath, it was as though phantom sensations grasped at his skin or tore at his throat.

He kept moving.

It was stupid, probably, being driven forward by fear like a mindless animal. … It was definitely stupid. Still, after ages spent trapped in one form, the full moon’s pull on the wolf in him was irresistible.

For the first time in ages, he worried about the possibility of coming astray of a human settlement once the moon was overhead. Normally, Virgil was the one who dedicated himself to making sure their pack’s turning ground was far from any stab-happy humans, always double and even triple-checking.

In his current state, Roman could barely discern a single natural scent around him, let alone any human scents he should avoid. He kept feeling eyes on him, silent watchers, but the distinction between reality and his own terrified delusions was growing thinner.

When the sun finally sank below the horizon, Roman allowed himself to collapse on a soft patch of earth under a shielding copse of saplings. He had some hope, however shallow, that by wearing himself out, his wolf would spend the night curled up somewhere, settled into a sleep heavy enough to erase the pounding headache settled deep in his skull.

He’d been a fool to let himself hope.

His memories while fully-turned were foggy as usual, but the emotions were clear: he’d spent his entire night on the move. His wolf had been howling long, agonized calls into the dark around him, desperately searching for the other members of his small pack. Desperately waiting for a response that would never come.

To top it all off, when he woke up human-shaped in the early hours of dawn, his headache had only grown worse.

His only turn of fortune was that his wolf hadn’t traveled back the way he’d come, driven away by some immutable sense of danger. He could at least be grateful he wouldn’t have to make up for any lost progress, even if his body was weak and trembling from being pushed past the brink of exhaustion.

The further he got from those bloodsuckers, the better.

His vision blurred slightly with each step. It was seeming more and more likely that he was growing feverish, though it was hard to tell with nobody else around to ask. He kept pressing a hand to his forehead and neck, trying to gauge his temperature, but his hands were warm, too.

He’d complained about his packmates’ terrible circulation and icy fingers before, but there was very little he wouldn’t do for them now… Just the phantom memory of Virgil’s cool hand on his head, voice sharp but touch unbearably gentle, was enough to make tears prick his eyes.

He took a deep breath, forcing himself up on shaky legs. There was no way he could give up now, feverish or not. What would his packmates advise?

“For survival, shelter and water are most important,” he mumbled to himself, wincing at the poor imitation. He cleared some of the raspiness from his throat, imagining Logan’s face when he really got into sharing his newest bit of knowledge. “Running water is preferable to still water, which can carry illnesses, and for larger rivers there is also the potential to find freshwater food sources, like salmon, catfish, bass, um… pike, trout… cod?” He frowned, losing the careful enunciation. “Wait, is salmon freshwater?”

Logan could have listed more off, Roman was sure, but the effort helped cheer him nonetheless. He spent the next few hours winding his way through the forest, attempting every so often to sniff the air for damp soil with little success.

His ears still worked fine, however, and so when he caught the first distant trickle of rushing water, he wasted no time in following the sound. It was no river, but the stream was plenty to help quench the dryness in the back of his throat.

“Go upstream,” he could imagine Virgil demanding, “make yourself harder to track. Wolves aren’t the only ones out there with good noses.”

“The water is so cold, though,” he complained to himself even as he began sloshing through it. “I have squishy human flesh, I’m going to freeze to death.”

Here was where Logan would point out his exaggeration, and Virgil would snap something snarky to distract him from the chill.

The burbling of the water was a poor substitute.

Once his feet grew truly chilled, he waded back out, mimicking Virgil’s voice to caution himself against the more slippery-looking rocks. He probably looked a little silly, holding both parts of a conversation, but it wasn’t as though anyone was around to see.

“Cut me some slack,” he muttered to nobody, allowing the comfort of his wolf form to slide back into place as the day turned to a chilly evening and he lay to rest. “I’m maybe-possibly-feverish, I deserve good things.”

He slept fitfully, and when he woke, there was a gray coat draped over him, and a small pile of walnuts and blackberries sat at his side, the nuts already shelled and the berries freshly washed.

The incredibly suspicious nature of their appearance only stopped Roman from eating them for about five minutes, and four of those five minutes were dedicated to imagining all the reasons Virgil would list to not eat them.

“Sorry, Virge,” he said through a mouthful of fruity deliciousness.

There didn’t seem to be anyone around, and no matter how he buried his face in the coat lining, his nose was too stuffed to pick up anything. It was an extraordinarily soft coat, though, and he felt awfully cold. It was hard for even him to imagine what harm could be done with a coat.

“I’m accepting this Possibly Evil Coat, but only for a little while, so don’t get any ideas!”

The woods were quiet in response to his declaration, and he sniffed daintily before climbing to his feet, internally bemoaning the way the world swayed slightly as he moved.

Couldn’t he just sleep here a bit longer…?

He imagined the unimpressed looks his packmates would give him. Imaginary Virgil in particular wouldn’t stand for sitting around when there was every possibility he was still being hunted.

“For all you know, that vamp was just a sick mind trick, and they’ve been toying with you this whole time!” Virgil would say, jumping to the worst-possible scenario that Roman always stalwartly tried to ignore. He shuddered, glancing around himself.

“You are not helping my mood, mister,” he muttered to Imaginary Virgil as he tromped through the underbrush with much less elegant grace than usual.

The little mystery offerings from the morning had helped stave off his plummeting energy levels, but they weren’t enough. It was only midday when the lightheadedness and the chills shuddering through him became too much, and he found himself collapsed on the ground between one blink and the next.

He was contemplating the benefits of simply remaining facedown on the dirt for a while when a cool hand wrapped around his wrist, carefully tugging him onto his back.

Roman blinked at the face above him, the blurry features slowly resolving themselves into the shape of the vampire who had freed him only nights before. The fear that shot through him didn’t make him any more lucid, and Roman bared his teeth in a snarl that was probably much less fearsome on a human face.

“Told you so,” Imaginary Virgil said, instead of doing anything helpful like tearing a vampire’s throat out. Roman missed Real Virgil.

The vampire was talking, a low, constant noise meant to soothe as he shifted an arm around Roman’s shoulders, lifting him to his feet. The blood rushed to his head, vision going black-- the next thing he knew, he was inside a small cabin, swaddled in blankets, the hearth crackling merrily feet away.

… What had he been worrying about? He couldn’t remember.

A chill shuddered through him. He was still so cold, even as sweat drenched the cloth around him, and he complained relentlessly.

His packmates tolerated his sickbed whining as graciously they always did, though for some reason they were more hesitant than normal to hold him close when he called for them. They seemed to be taking his care in shifts, as there was only ever one person in view, and sometimes he woke up completely alone.

(Strange, since they normally all piled up together when one of them got sick. They probably just needed to prioritize hunting or checking their territory boundaries or something. Roman wasn’t that sick.)

When they were there, Roman rambled and bickered with them nonstop, through shudders and chattering teeth, telling old stories and adding new twists to distract from the sickness ravaging him, only pausing when they pressed coriander seeds or wormwood to his lips.

(That was a little strange. Logan knew mint worked better for Roman’s nausea. Maybe they were out?)

Time passed in a haze, marked only by the frequent offers of fresh water and stale rations. Eventually, he was able to even measure out his healing progress by how often he could keep the aforementioned nutrients down.

(One of them was busy hunting, but somehow there was never any fresh kill.)

He knew his fever had finally, properly broken when he reached out for the one who had been taking care of him all this time, and registered that their skin was icy-cold.

Roman jerked back and then instantly regretted it as every nerve in his body protested severely.

“Ah, careful!” warned the vampire, who was at least smart enough to stay out of immediate biting range. His hands fluttered around as though he was attempting to bat away the dark spots that were currently dotting Roman’s vision.

Unbidden, a rough growl tore from him. He had a heartbeat to feel vindicated at the vamp’s flinch before his breath caught in his throat, kicking off an uncontrollable coughing fit.

Each wheeze brought less and less air, and when he caught the vampire shuffling closer, it suddenly felt like he had no air at all. He hunched over his knees, shifting his hands to cover his neck pathetically, as though the motion could protect him.

“Back off,” he snapped, cursing himself when the words came out as barely more than a choked whisper. How many times had he said some variation on the phrase in the past few weeks? He should have learned by now that it never worked.

When he glanced up, though, he found the vampire had practically teleported all the way across the room. The sight of the vamp peering at Roman worriedly from the furthest corner was odd enough to yank his mind out of the half-formed flashback.

He took a deep breath, trying to remember the grounding exercises Virgil always ran through. His wrists were light, his knees didn’t ache; he wasn’t chained down. There was soft fabric around him, and warmth in the air; it was a far cry from cold cement platforms in lifeless forts.

There was a vampire here, but his eyes weren’t red, and he didn’t wear a cruel smile like a second skin. Roman might still be a prisoner, but he wasn’t there anymore.

Instead, his current location was… a curiously cozy cabin?

Roman blinked. It was a single room, a bit sparse in decor but containing a small coal stove, stocked pantry, and a cheerily roaring fireplace. He was sitting on the solitary bed, a nest of blankets creased around him.

He turned his blank gaze back to the vampire. For a moment, the only noise in the room was the low crackle-pop of burning wood.

“Are you okay?” the vampire finally asked, brow creased with what looked like genuine concern. “You’ve been really burning up, and fevers like that can take a lot out of you. At least,” a pause, “as fire as I know.”

Any and all snappy responses (both literal and metaphorical) flew instantly from Roman’s mind. He groaned and slumped over dramatically, ignoring the way his vision swam slightly at the movement. “Augh, that was terrible!”

The vampire grinned, his smile somehow dorky even with the visible fangs. “You don’t have to tell me twice: I’m a fast burner!”

“Are you sure?” Roman asked. “Because this is the worst thing you’ve done to me yet, and I’m including the mind games, apparent abduction, and imprisonment.”

“Flameous last words,” the vamp said, and then the rest of Roman’s statement seemed to catch up with him. He drooped like a wilting flower. “You’re not imprisoned here! And I’m not trying to... mess with you, or anything.”

Roman gave him an unimpressed look. “Just so we’re on the same page, that’s a yes on you abducting me, correct?”

“I mean, yeah, just a little bit,” the vampire admitted, “but I meant it in a helpful way! I wasn’t going to bother you at first, I promise, but then you got sick, and I could tell how feverish you were just looking at you, and--,”

“Wait,” said Roman, his brain slowly churning through the implications of that sentence, “you were just going to follow me without me knowing, the entire way--,” home, he didn’t say, because the mere thought of accidentally leading a coven of vicious vampires to his vulnerable packmates made his stomach turn, and then he was leaning over and being violently ill in the bucket beside his bed.

A cold weight settled against the back of his neck, soothing against his overheated skin for the few seconds it took him to realize what-- or rather, who it was. He jerked away with a halfhearted snarl, probably looking rightly pathetic.

“I’m sorry,” the vampire said mournfully, stopping him short. “I wasn’t trying to upset you, I just-- I knew it was my fault. If I’d gotten the key sooner, or been braver, you wouldn’t have been out in the cold for so long, you might not have caught sick at all. It wouldn’t be right for me to abandon you.”

“Abandon me?” Roman spluttered. What did this guy think he was, some lost pup? “I can take care of myself just fine alone, thank you very much! I have absolutely no need for suspicious sanguinous stalkers on my tail.”

For emphasis, he shoved the blankets off of himself, swung his legs over the edge of the bed, and stood up in preparation to leave.

One blink later, he was facedown on the floor, his body numb yet his nose stinging from the impact. “Ow.”

The vampire offered him a hand up. “Autumn is my favorite season, but that certainly didn’t seem like a very nice fall.”

“Must you kick a man while he’s down?” Roman bemoaned, ignoring the proffered hand in favor of pushing himself up.

His traitorous legs wobbled under him, and he ended up collapsing back into a seated position on the bed, right where he’d started. He felt a wave of familiar despair wash over him. The sickness had sapped every ounce of strength from him; whatever villainous plans lay ahead, he had no chance of foiling them.

… Maybe he could still foil some of them.

Roman met the vampire’s gaze as solidly as he could. “No matter how adeptly you try to play the kindly stranger role, I’m not going to fall for it.” I’m not going to lead you to my family. “You may as well cut your losses and do whatever it is you’re planning to do to me.”

He waved a dismissive hand for emphasis, as if it didn’t matter to him. As if the mere idea of getting so close to freedom and then dying (alone, far from his pack, without them ever even knowing what happened to him) wasn’t enough to make him feel like there were roots tangling in his lungs and weeds clogging his throat.

The vampire nodded slowly, a troubled look on his face. “In that case…”

He moved closer, and Roman focused very intently on not flinching, no matter how badly he wanted to, or how hard his body was already shaking. The vampire reached out--

“My name is Patton,” he said, very carefully offering his hand at the midpoint between them, “and what I want is for you to stay right here in this house until you’re healed, and then you can go wherever you want to go, and I’ll make an oath not to follow.”

“What?” Roman blurted, staring at Patton’s hand with blatant confusion. “You-- I-- What?”

“I really don’t want to hurt you, kiddo.” Roman stiffened, because that was a classic villain line setup if he’d ever heard one, but-- “So, once you’re healed, whatever you need me to do to prove it, I’ll do it.”

Roman’s increasing headache had nothing to do with his fever and everything to do with the oxymoron that was a philanthropist bloodsucker.

What was the right option? He couldn’t get away, but he couldn’t trust that this bizarre hospitality would last, either. Perhaps the best course of action here was inaction-- lulling the vampire into a false sense of security by pretending to be sick even as he grew healthy enough to escape?

Roman could act. He was good at it, and the bar for his illness had been set quite convincingly with his earlier faceplant. He let his muscles go lax, slumping over slightly to give off the impression of conceding without actually ever agreeing to Patton’s proposed plan.

“If you’re so intent on me trusting you, you can start by telling me where I am,” he sniffed, graciously not mentioning the abduction thing again.

Patton brightened, letting his offered hand drop without comment. “This is an aidhouse! It’s part of a system recently set up in this division of the kingdom for common good and to prevent spread of disease.”

That explained the insulated, if somewhat bare, interior. Roman raised a curious eyebrow. “And they’ll let just anyone use it?”

“That’s the principle behind it, yep! Normally, with non-plague cases, an apothecary apprentice would stop by to check in and offer guidance, but I told them I had it apothecovered!”

The puns were apparently a permanent fixture in the guy’s repertoire. Logan would be in agony. Roman ignored the pang in his chest at the thought, leaning further back against the pillow mound. “Yes, you wouldn’t want some poor apprentice to stick around long enough to find out there’s a lone vampire in their midst, would you?”

Dial it back, he could imagine Virgil hissing, as though the emo had any room to talk about unnecessary vitriol.

“Well, no,” Patton admitted, his smile turning a little strained. “But I turned them away because I already have all the experience I need! I worked as a full-time doctor before-- um, before...”

The smile turned full-on tremulous, and Roman was seized by a strange panic at the sight of it. He sprawled over the bed haughtily, the way he always did when demanding attention from his workaholic packmates.

“If you’re such a skilled doctor, then I’m sure you won’t have any problems running me through your treatments so far?” Roman challenged, inspecting his nails. It wasn’t a pointless query, either; some common human treatments were toxic to werewolves.

“Oh!” Patton said, voice still a little choked up. “Of course, let me see…”

The brink-of-tears quality to his words faded as he began to recount everything Roman had missed in his feverish haze. Patton’s exposition was nothing like Logan’s, cheerful rambling and jokes thrown in where Logan preferred efficient lists and muttered tangents.

Roman found himself drifting off to the sound regardless.

It seemed that pretending to trust Patton wouldn’t be as hard as he’d thought.

[delaber]

Can’t Have Your Cake and Another Cake Too

Rafael Casal x Reader

Note: Okay, I’ll stop breaking Rafa’s heart now... Last time, I swear! Thanks for the prompts to these lovely anons. Alhough this is not a prequel to Poetic Justice (Rafa x ER Nurse), poor Rafa’s facing some of the same issues. I very loosely based this story on J. Cole’s Kevin’s Heart (don’t know why I’m always incorporating J. Cole into my fics, but apparently he’s always lurking in the back of my mind) and Phlake’s So Faded. Let me know what you think!

Words: 4.7K

Warnings: Cocaine addiction! Does not have a happy ending (nobody ODs and nobody’s dying ...Only on the inside lol)

Tagging: No one! This might not be for everybody and I don’t want anybody to feel forced to read it 😌

It was supposed to be a great night out. The entire gang was there, and at the instigation of Diggs, Rafa was supposed to be on the prowl to get laid so he could take his mind off of his broken heart.

From his seat in the booth, Rafa had a fairly good view of the dance floor and he had already spotted a few honeys who likewise had acknowledged him by smiling and sending him a couple of long looks. One of them had even twirled her hair between her fingers while blowing him a kiss. He had the green light, all systems were go!

However, of all the things that could've thrown him off his game, Rafa would not have placed a single bet on a phone call. But the minute he pulled out his vibrating phone and checked the caller ID, both the group of honeys on the dance floor and his friends occupying the seats all around him were completely forgotten. Nothing else mattered anymore.

He stared at the screen for a while, reading the name over and over again. What the fuck was Morris calling him for? Rafa had told him to stop. Morris knew he was too weak to say no even though he had promised his girl that he'd stop for good.

...Or, you weren't his girl. Not anymore.

But Rafa was still determined to win you back no matter if you had stopped answering his phone calls or not, so he took a tough decision and pressed the decline button beneath Morris' name. He even contemplated putting his phone on flight-mode to remove all unwelcome temptations - he knew you'd never take him back if he fell back in - yet, for some reason taking himself off the grid was easier said than done, and before he had pulled himself together to actually press the little airplane button, a text from Morris had ticked in. It only consisted of two words but Rafa understood perfectly.

'New candy.'

Fuck... Rafa considered the pros and cons of accepting for a few milliseconds before he came to his senses. No, no, no. The only way he'd ever win you back would be by showing you that he could stay sober even after your break-up. Morris could fuck off! As if awaking from a trance, Rafa hurriedly put his phone back in his pocket and desperately tried to forget about Morris' enticing offer by telling himself that he was strong enough to shake it.

...although deep down, he was aware that it was already too late. That no matter what, he wouldn't be able to stop thinking about it now. And no matter how hard he tried to re-focus on the honeys on the dance floor and tell himself how stupid it was to hit Morris up, it was no use, the damage was done; he was desperate to get high!

Deeply, horribly ashamed of himself, Rafa texted Morris the address of the club and impatiently waited a couple of minutes before he walked outside with heavy footsteps. It felt as if he was walking to the gallows, the shame eating him up from the inside. You'd be so disappointed in him!

However, in order to make himself accept what he was about to do, he reminded himself that apparently, you didn't care if he was high or not. If you did, you would've returned his phone calls, and you would've reacted to the fact that he had been sober for three weeks now - but you hadn't. And with that in mind, Rafa managed to push away most of the shame as he laid eyes on Morris' sketchy Subaru parked by the curb on the other side of the road. He walked across the street with determined footsteps, carefully looking over his shoulder to check if anybody he knew were watching him approach what was clearly a dealer's car.

"What's up, bruh!" Morris called as he rolled down his window. He was wearing sunglasses, looking like an absolute turd in the dark night.

Rafa put his arms on the car's beltline and shot Morris a bro handshake through the open window, "what the fuck are you wearing sunglasses at night for? You look like a dick."

"Nah, man, it looks cool," Morris laughed, "do you like them? Hell, you should like them - you paid for them."

"What do you mean I paid for them?"

"With the amount of money you spend in my shop, I think it's safe to assume that you paid for these sunglasses and the rims on the ride too," Morris snorted.

"Yeah, about that," Rafa looked away, the embarrassment slowly creeping up his spine again, "you gotta stop calling me."

"You said that last time as well but look at you now," Morris laughed.

"Come on man, it's important that I stop."

"You don't wanna stop though."

Rafa let out a sigh, "look, I'm trying to prove something to my girlf- ...ex-girlfriend."

"A'ight, I respect that," Morris nodded slowly but then he quickly continued, "so did you just call me here to pin your lady troubles on me? Cause I have a customer waiting up on Seventh Ave."

Rafa blew out some air, embarrassed by the decision he was about to make.

"...Or do you wanna buy?" Morris continued as he read Rafa's body language.

"...you're not gonna tell Diggs are you?"

"Do I look like a fucking snitch?" Morris looked offended, "and you know me and Diggs don't talk no more."

"Yeah, alright. This stays between us, okay? If word gets out, I'm fucked."

"A'ight bruh," Morris laughed, "Now, how much do you need?"

"Just... just give me an eightball," Rafa mumbled.

Morris let out a small laugh, "an eightball? Man, you're not about to quit," he chuckled and handed Rafa a zip-lock bag with white powder in it.

"Shut up," Rafa mumbled and pocketed the baggie, "how much?"

"Rafa, you're my man, so I'mma give you a discount because I feel bad for you and your girl. Three hundo."

"Three hundred?! Last time it was two-eighty without the discount."

"Times are changing. I haven't seen you in three weeks, man. Plus, this is a good batch," Morris poked Rafa in the chest, "my contact got it shipped in directly from Medellín. Look, it got fish scale and everything!"

"You better not fuck me over," Rafa muttered and threw Morris three hundred-dollar bills before he turned away from him with an annoyed huff.

"Pleasure doing business as always, Casal! See you next weekend!" Morris yelled after Rafa with a small laugh, apparently not a care in the world for who knew about their illegal transaction.

"Fucking idiot," Rafa muttered to himself without turning around. He had more important things to do than to scold Morris about his indiscretion.

Rafa hurried to the restroom and carefully locked the door behind him before he frantically pulled out the zip-lock bag. He examined its contents and saw the pearl-like surface that Morris had talked about - Fuck it looked good! He opened the bag carefully but froze when he caught his own reflection in the bathroom mirror; the loving look he was sending the bag of coke was sickening. It made his stomach plummet. Had he really been reduced to snorting coke alone in a dirty bathroom of a sketchy club? He remembered when it had been a group activity. Before he couldn't control it.

Shake it off! He told himself. He had every intention of stopping after tonight. This would be the last time.

You said that last time as well, a small voice rang in the back of his head, but he ignored his guilty conscience and instead poured out a small pile of the pearl-like coke on top of the hand dryer. Quickly, he pulled out a random card from his wallet and used it to form two heavy lines. Before his guilty conscience could interfere again, he also grabbed a one-dollar bill that he neatly rolled into a small tube and put between his right nostril and one of the white lines, ready for the rush. His gaze, however, lingered on the random card he had used to break the coke into lines; it was his fucking rewards card for the small organic, artisan shit coffee house that you liked. What wouldn't you say if you knew what he was doing? In his mind's eye, he could see the disappointed look you always sent him whenever he'd come home all hyped up, rambling his mouth off. You never got angry with him and his love of coke, but somehow your disappointed demeanour was way worse. He would've taken screaming and yelling over the disappointed stare and the slow shake of your head any day.

Slowly, he removed the dollar-bill from his nostril, stood up straight and met his own eyes in the mirror again - and for a moment, he could truly see how pathetic he was. What the hell was he doing? He was throwing away his last shot at getting you back - and for what? A few hours of euphoria and confidence?

But she doesn't want you back, a small voice rang inside his head, you called, and you called, and you called. You declared yourself clean to her voicemail and she still didn't reach out. Fuck her!

"Yeah, fuck her," Rafa mumbled before he put the dollar-bill back to his nostril. Quickly, he snorted both lines of coke, shooting his head back afterwards, sniffling a bit as he cleaned his nose with the back of his hand. He knew he only had a couple of minutes before the euphoria kicked in, so he quickly brushed off the dollar-bill and the rewards card and tugged them both back in his wallet. The remainder of the coke was stowed away in his shirt's breast pocket for safe keeping.

Ready for the rush, Rafa was impatiently staring at himself in the mirror. He was thinking about how to avoid Diggs and his condescending looks for the duration of his high, when he was finally overwhelmed by the familiar fuzzy feeling. It came out of nowhere and started behind his eyeballs and continued all the way down to his toenails. It felt as if someone had pulled a large, fluffy blanket down over him, and it was slowly heating up his body, making him feel safe and secure. His pulse quickened in time with his breathing, and he had to close his eyes to get himself under control. He felt fucking powerful! Morris had not lied about this coming from a good batch. "Shit, Morris," he laughed.

There was a knock on the door, and Rafa remembered that he had occupied the men's room for a good five minutes now. He took a last look at his suddenly hazed eyes, aware that no matter how hard he tried to hide it, anyone could see that he was high as a kite. He contemplated riding out his high alone in the bathroom but also knew that with the amount of energy present in his body, he couldn't stay in the small restroom all night. He had to dance! To fuck! To fight!

With a suddenly confident bounce in his step, he opened the door, and sent the guy in line what he hoped was an apologetic nod before he confidently strode towards the honeys on the dance floor.

"Hey Rafa!" he heard someone yell behind him.

Hoping it was someone who wanted to fight, Rafa quickly turned around but was slightly disappointed to see Diggs coming towards him with a huge grin on his face. Shit! Rafa realised that he had to act nonchalant around his best friend. Diggs absolutely couldn't know about the coke in his breast pocket, or he'd be all up in Rafa's face about it.

"Diiiiiggs! My man!" Rafa yelled overly excited, clearly very, very high.

Diggs shot him a look at his weird behaviour before he continued, "where've you been, man? I've been looking for you everywhere."

"R-r-r-r-r-r-r-rrrrrrrestroom," Rafa laughed, he was too happy to pretend otherwise.

"Why are you saying it like th-" the huge grin was slowly slipping from Diggs' face, "...hey, Rafa - look at me," Diggs suddenly sounded all serious as he took Rafa's face in his hands, carefully examining his features, "Rafa, look at me."

Rafa let out a low chuckle, "Diggs, you know I think you're handsome and all that, but I don't like you that way," he joked.

"You're being weird," Diggs furrowed his eyebrows, "- and your pupils are huge. Have you been doing lines in the bathroom?"

"Maybe," Rafa laughed, unable to stop himself from revealing his dirty little secret, "why? You want some? I still have a few hits left," he padded his breast pocket.

"You know I don't do that shit anymore..." Diggs let go of Rafa with a sigh and looked away from him.

"Oh yeah, I forgot you're a fucking saint now," Rafa said a bit more harshly than he had intended to. Ever since Diggs had met Emmy, he had been boring as hell.

Diggs chose not to comment on Rafa's low blow, and managed to keep his calm, "I thought you'd stopped, bruh."

"Morris made me an offer I couldn't refuse," Rafa laughed in an accent halfway between Tony Montana and Vito Corleone.

"Yeah well, I'm not the only one who thought you were done fucking around," Diggs said seriously. He was having none of Rafa's jokes, "I just saw your girl downstairs. She wants to talk to you."

It took a few seconds before Rafa understood, but when he finally grasped Diggs' words, he felt the blood drain from his face and his mouth run dry, "what? No, you're kidding me..."

"Nope," Diggs sighed, "I've been running around trying to find you for fifteen minutes..."

"Shit! What the fuck do I do?" Rafa said in a panicked voice, licking his lips frantically, "I told her I was sober! If she sees me like this, she'll never take me back."

"Yeah, well you better pray that you don't run into her."

Rafa ran his hand through his hair, "fuck I'm screwed. She's downstairs?"

"Was fifteen minutes ago."

"Alright, I'm jumping out this window. You stall her, tell her that I got sick or something."

"You can't jump out this window?" Diggs said incredulously, "we're 50 feet up, if you do that, you die! Just walk out the doo- ...oh shit, dude, we're blown. She's here. She's coming over."

"Fuck! Can I still bolt?"

"Of course not!"

"Well how do I look? Alright?"

"You look-" Diggs cut himself off, "...maybe just try and avoid her looking into your eyes, okay?"

"How the fuck am I supposed to do that?"

"The light in here's paying you a favour but apart from that you're gonna have to pull yourself together. You brought this upon yourself," Diggs said harshly before his demeanour changed completely as his eyes interlocked with yours over Rafa's shoulder, "heeeeey," he smiled broadly, "look who I found."

Rafa slowly turned around and met you. Your stunning beauty - as always - immediately knocking him to the ground. He couldn't believe that it had been four weeks since the last time he'd seen you. He'd do anything to get you back!

"Rafa," you nodded formally with a stiff face. Rafa couldn't help but make a mental note on how weird it was to see you without a smile on your lips. You were normally always so happy. He had done this, he reminded himself.

"Hey baby," he whispered, the words weirdly familiar in his throat.

You briefly raised your eyebrows while looking away from him, clearly uncomfortable by the sound of your old pet name.

"Sorry," he continued, "force of habit. ...I'm just happy to see you."

Your gaze slowly found his face, and Rafa prayed that you couldn't see his coke-eyes from where you were standing.

"Well..." you said and clicked your tongue, "I'd like to talk to you."

"I'd like to talk to you too," Rafa said quietly.

"And you're sober? Like you said on my voicemail?"

"Yes," Rafa breathed, "completely sober," he lied thickly, hyper-aware of how awkward it was with Diggs shuffling nervously beside him. He was uncomfortably rolling back and forth on the balls of his feet.

"Good," you finally let out a small smile, "do you want to sit down?"

"Yeah," Rafa nodded.

"Yeah, I'll - uh - I'll leave you to it," Diggs cleared his throat and padded Rafa between the shoulder blades as a way of wishing him good luck.

"Thanks man," Rafa muttered before he followed you down to a vacant booth in the corner of the room. Instead of sitting down opposite you, he made sure to occupy the seat next to you, hoping that it would minimise the risk of you looking into his eyes. He just had to pretend that he was sober until the high quieted down. Fourty-five more minutes - Less if he was lucky.

"So, how've you been?" You said quietly as you were both overlooking the dance floor, avoiding looking directly at each other.

"Not good," Rafa said quietly, "like shit, actually... how about you?"

"Yeah, well I guess 'shit' sums it up neatly... How's sober life?"

"Oh, it's - yeah - it's - it's great!" He said, the lie thick in his throat, "I feel so much better now." He knew how much he had hurt you, and he knew how difficult it must be for you to face him after you'd said that you never wanted to see him again - which just really only made his lying so much worse. Fuck, how he hated himself for what he had done. What he was still doing.

Your eyes darted across his face before your gaze settled on a spot just below his chin. He was relieved that you weren't staring him square in the eyes. "I was so happy to hear your voicemail," you whispered, "you really flushed your stash?"

"Yes," he croaked.

"I'm glad that you're finally taking care of yourself," he couldn't make out your face in the dark but he could hear a hint of happiness to your voice that you were clearly trying to suppress. It made him feel horrible.

"Yeah, I want to stay sober for you," he said slowly. At least that wasn't a lie.

"You have no idea how happy that makes me," you said quietly, the happiness definitely shining through now.

Rafa's heart was fluttering in his chest, and he felt the coke-induced euphoria run amok in his brain, "...does that mean you'll forgive me?" All his senses were heightened.

"It's a step in the right direction" you said quietly, still not looking directly at him, "I've missed you."

"I've missed you too baby," Rafa said quietly and boldly took your hand in his.

Finally, you looked up at him, and to avoid you noticing his bloodshot eyes with the dilated pupils, he took a quick decision, leaned in and crashed his lips against yours.

Luckily, you mistook his desperation for passion and fiercely kissed him back, your hand releasing itself from his, and instead caressing his neck. In-between kisses you managed to mumble, "I'm still... mad... at you."

"I know," Rafa mumbled, enjoying the familiar feeling of your lips against his. Your hands switched to caressing his torso, and your small fingers travelled over his stomach and up his chest, coming to a halt over his heart. It was racing against his ribcage and he had no idea whether it was due to the coke or due to the heap of emotions he felt in his chest. He couldn't believe he was kissing you again. He had completely written it off no more than half an hour ago.

Your right hand moved away from his heart but came to a sudden halt when you felt a small bump in Rafa's breast pocket. Still kissing him, you ran your fingers over the bump a few times before you remembered that it was where he always kept his coke. Quickly, you pulled your lips away from his.

"Wait, no, don't take kissing away from me," he hummed, completely unaware of the discovery you'd just done.

You were looking at his euphoric face with the closed eyes and the swollen lips as you moved your hand over his breast pocket once more.

When Rafa realised what was going on his eyes flew open and he spluttered, "it isn't what you think!"

But he was too slow to react, and before he had had the chance to move away, your fingers went inside his breast pocket and grabbed the small bag from there. "You've got to be kidding me!" You said angrily as you held his coke between your fingertips.

"Baby, I can explain," Rafa said quickly while desperately grabbing your wrist.

"Rafa, you fucking idiot! Don't touch me!" You wrestled yourself out of his grip, got up from your seat, and fast-paced towards the door.

"Baby! Baby!" Rafa yelled out as he ran after you.

"Don't touch me!" You cried, attracting the attention of everyone in your path.

You stormed out the door, Rafa at your heel desperately clinging to every inch of you that he could reach. When you reached the curb outside, he finally managed to run up in front of you, stopping you in your tracks, "baby, I can explain!" He said desperately.

"You said you'd flushed it all!" You were screaming at him now, the tears running down your face.

"It was a mistake, baby, I swear I didn't mean to. I flushed it all, I promise. It's just a setback."

"When did you buy this, Rafa?" You said through gritted teeth, "how long did you manage to stay sober before you decided you wanted to throw it all away?"

Rafa looked away from you, he was so embarrassed by himself, "Morris called and I tried to say no, I really did! Baby, I tried so hard to resist it. But he was persistent."

"Well, did he force you to buy?" You hissed. You were having none of his excuses.

"...No." Rafa admitted.

"When did you buy it?" You emphasised every word, "before or after you called me last weekend?"

"After..."

"When? How long after? When did you have your setback?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes! I need to know if you did it because you were physically craving it, because you just felt like getting high, or if you did it because you’d thrown the thought of us away when I didn’t answer you.”

"I tried to fight it, I swear I tried to fight it," he was getting choked up.

"Rafa, tell me when you bought it."

He considered shooting you a lie but he didn't want to fuck up any more. "I bought it tonight..." he finally muttered under his breath, avoiding your gaze.

"You're not serious!! You bought it tonight?" You bellowed, "are you trying to tell me that you planned on throwing away your soberness tonight? That if I hadn't shown up, you'd be high as balls right now?"

Rafa didn't say anything, he just looked at you with huge eyes, the embarrassment evident on his face - and first then did you notice his blood-shot eyeballs with the abnormally large pupils that had taken over most of the green that was normally present.

"No..." you whispered when you realised, "no, no, no..." you groaned quietly, clutching your chest, "you're high right now?" The heartbreak was evident in your voice.

Rafa sent you a pained look. He fucking hated himself.

"You're high..." You stated in a whisper, the tears were streaming down your face, "you lied."

He had broken your heart. Again.

"I - I didn't mean to," he croaked, "I was just so happy to see you. I knew you wouldn't want to talk to me if I told you the truth."

"So you planned on telling me when?"

"I don't know," he croaked, "I didn't think it through. I've been sober for three weeks. Tonight's just a small setback. Baby, I swear, I'll block Morris and I'll flush this baggie right now if I can just get you back," Rafa was begging, “I’ll stop if you tell me to!”

"Rafa, how many times do I have to tell you," you cried, "You have to stop because you want to. Not because I tell you to stop! I don't care about the snorting! I don't care that you party and get high! You've done lines of my tits several times for God's sake! But I can't live with the constant lying that has become part of it!"

Fuck, Rafa knew what you were building to. His life's biggest mistake. He had it coming, he knew it. He deserved it. He was a fucking cheating coke-head and he hated it. "Please don't bring it up," he sobbed.

You didn't listen to him. You had to confront him with it because he clearly hadn't understood. "Rafa, you fucked another girl! And you were so high that you didn't even realise it! And when you woke up the next day and saw what you'd done, you lied about your whereabouts and the fact that you'd been high as fuck! I had to learn about it through her!" You were sobbing, "...and instead of staying home and comforting me, you lied about having to go to the studio, and you met up with Morris and you got high! Again! If knowing that you're breaking my heart with your constant lies doesn't make you want to quit, I'm not sure what will."

"I want to stop!" he sobbed. He had never felt so horrible before, "I love you, I want to be with you," he sniffled and took your hand, "please give me another chance! I'll stop snorting. I'll stop lying. I'll do anything for you."

It looked as if you were contemplating his words but the look in your eyes darkened suddenly and you let out a whisper, "no Rafa!" as you pulled your hand away from his.

"Baby, please!" He pleaded desperately, "I love you."

"You love coke more," you whispered.

"I have a problem," Rafa tried desperately, "I know. I can't stop. But I'll get help. I'll do whatever you want me to do!"

"Rafa, if you stop snorting because I tell you to stop, it will never last! You love getting high!"

"That's not true... it's pathetic," he cried.

"Rafa, honey,” you said quietly, “- ask yourself this; would you be throwing away this baggie and deleting Morris' number if I wasn't leaving you because of it?"

"Yes," he croaked immediately.

You took a deep breath of air, hurt written all over your face, "Love," you sighed desperately as a fresh wave of tears started streaming down your face, "you're lying again..." you sobbed, and put the baggie in the palm of his hand and folded his fingers around it.

"I'm flushing it," he croaked.

"Do whatever you want," you whispered and looked him in the eye, "We're not together anymore. I'm done - it's over,” you said as you slowly turned around and started walking away from him.

“No, no, no! Please come back!”

“No Rafa… This time I'm serious,” you said before you started walking again.

This time, Rafa didn't run after you. He just watched you walk further and further away from him as your hands dried the tears off of your face every two seconds. He imagined you stopping, imagined the hurt look you'd send him. How he'd run over to you and take you in his arms. Imagined how he'd apologise and you'd both hug and cry and kiss it out. But you didn't stop. You didn't send him any look at all. And he didn’t run to you, he was glued to the pavement.

He stood as if frozen in time and looked after you even long after you'd disappeared around the corner. Suddenly, however, he noticed that he was still clutching the baggie in his closed fist. Slowly, he opened the palm to reveal the beautiful mother-of-pearl-coloured powder. He contemplated dropping it down the gutter next to him. It would all be so easy.

But instead, he closed his fingers around it and pocketed it right above his broken heart. It would help relieve the terrible thunder that he felt rolling over him. It brought along a storm of emotions. A hurricane of regrets. And he was desperate to get high.

[remmushound]

Beyond the bay part 21: Trouble in paradise

Summary: Raph encounters a friend

Tags: @brightlotusmoon @selfindulgenz @ilo-artistry @dakotafinely

Content warning (more severe warnings will be colored red so triggers can be avoided while reading) - swears, violence, blood, capitals/bold, passing mention of r*pe, mentions of lynching, mentions of Murder, mentions of violence involving a child

It was Raphael’s decision to split the team into thirds. Three patrols, split evenly between teams of two. They could get the patrol done three times as fast as they could otherwise, even if not everyone was happy with who they were paired with. Raph had been hoping to get paired with Raphael or Michelangelo— hell, he would have even been happy with the younger, weirder theatre version on Donnie! The only one he didn't want to get paired with was the one he was paired with: Leonardo. He didn't have anything against the kid but, to put it bluntly, he was pissed. Pissed that his Mikey was hurt and pissed there was nothing he could do about it and pissed he would get stuck with someone so much like his Mikey when he just wanted to blow off some steam. How could he be mad when every time he looked at Leonardo all he saw was his baby brother that couldn’t come with them? The one he had left back at the lair?

Leonardo seemed just as thrilled to be paired with Raph. Though in front of the team he had put up a wall of excitement, that wall ebbed away the moment he and Raph were off on their own with no one else around to witness them. With no other authority in sight, they could do whatever they wanted! And Leonardo knew exactly what he wanted.

Raph almost didn't stop in time when Leonardo stood abruptly in front of him, nearly colliding with the several-feet smaller slider. Neither spoke, Raph biting his lip and expecting the one who had stopped him to say something while Leonardo seemed content in drawing out the whole awkward encounter as long as possible.

“Ssssomething I can help you with?” Raph prompted finally.

“Let’s cut the shit.” Said Leonardo, and Raph winced at the swear that felt wrong coming from someone like Leonardo. “You don’t want to be here with me, that much is obvious.”

“It’s not—“

“Buh-buh-buh!” Leonardo waggled a finger, “Let me finish.”

Raph grumbled, wishing he could just reach out and snap that annoying, wagging finger, but he motioned for Leonardo to carry on.

“I don’t want to be here with you either.” Leonardo said, and then he motioned to the lack of others. “No one is here forcing us to be together. We have an hour before we have to meet back with the others, and we can do whatever we want with that hour. We don’t have to be together.”

“You’re saying…?” Raph didn't want to assume even when he was almost certain of what Leonardo met. Better safe than sorry, especially with a Leo.

“You go do your thing, I go do my thing, and neither of us talk about this again.”

Raph’s head tilted, jaw tightening, as he tried to make some sense of Leonardo’s still and confident expression. It certainly reminded him of his Leo in many ways, even if it looked strange on a face so much younger. This seemed like something his Leo might do too; there were a lot of ways they were similar, even if it was only now just coming to Raph’s attention. The way Leonardo stood, and the way he raised his eye bridge in a ‘what are you gonna do’ manner. The way he snorted a sharp breath out his nose when Raph took too long answering.

Raph decided not to risk any more delay. Hoping he wouldn’t regret this, Raph brought his hand to swipe at his jaw just to distract himself.

“Yeah. Right. Sounds good.”

“Sounds good.” Leonardo echoed with a nod, eyes still watching, always watching.

“But just uh. Just one thing first.” Raph said, raising a finger. “What do you have to do that’s so damned important?”

Leonardo didn't like that; it was written all over his face. “I could ask you the same question.”

Raph swore internally. This was a godsend— an opportunity to get away— and he really hoped he hadn’t just ruined his chances. This was a good thing, and who was he to question what Leonardo wanted to do when he wasn’t willing to tell the same? It wasn’t anything bad, just blowing off some steam! And only on people who deserved it! Just because Leo insisted they not get involved in petty robberies, that they avoid being seen, didn't mean Raph couldn’t help some poor bloke caught down in the wrong alley.

“Fine.” Raph made his decision. “I won’t ask if you won’t ask.”

“And I won’t.” Leonardo tossed his arms in the air, lowered his chin, and backed slowly until he was standing right on the edge of the building, “Meet back here in an hour, and don’t be late.”

Leonardo fell backward. Raph was expecting such antics, but when it happened he couldn’t help but rush to the edge of the building to look— to watch as Leonardo plummeted quickly toward the streets below, making no effort to stop or slow, almost as if he was reclining on the air. At the very last moment he swiped his odachi and was gone in a flash of blue.

Raph let himself breathe. He doubted he would ever get used to that. He was alone now, free to do whatever he wanted. And he knew exactly what he wanted.

~~~

These streets, these dark New York streets, were filled with just the type of scum Cassandra Jones hunted on the nightly. The type who’d rob a man and leave him with a knife in the gut. The type who’d rip a woman’s dress to ribbons while her screams of help went unheard, for who would help woman who screamed rape? No one would. But if they screamed fire? Well, help would be right on the way then. These were the types that would whine about their tires being slashed, and in that same breath slash the throat of another. Cruel. Thoughtlessly violent. At least when Cassandra had those violent events, hers were justified! Not just cruelty for cruelty sake.

These men she had been tracking deserved every ounce of fury they had coming. Cowardly people who came in the night, stole what was hers. Burned down the one good thing she’d had ever. When she was in the Foot Clan, she had grown used to not having anything of her own. Her room, her food, even her clothes were shared between all of the clan as a unit. No one had property of their own, and she had never even considered such a thing as private possession until she had gotten out. Until she had worked and toiled and slaved and bought a place of her own, a bakery— a business! Just for it to be burned to the ground because of who she was, and who her friends were. She couldn’t let that stand. She couldn’t let them get away with it, and she wouldn’t.

She found them.

They didn't see it coming. How could they? Cassandra’s outfit was the most unassuming black hoodie, skin-tight black leggings clinging tight to her form. Black gloves, black combat boots, black everything! Except for her mask. Her favorite, custom hockey mask. If one were to have nothing more than a quick glance at her, a figure moving in the nights shadows, they might assume the being was nothing more than a floating demon's face come to punish their sine or else drag them to the pits of inferno forever. Everything about the mask was Cassandra’s own: the piercing yellow paint, the red-streaking adornments like blood across the helm, and with two horns tipped red. There were red circles around the eye-holes too, and fangs painted on around the mouth, pulling her appearance into a permanent state of anger.

SLASH went her naginata, making contact with the first goon. Like a geyser came blood from the wound, and in that same moment it alerted the rest of the gang of Cassandra’s presence. She didn't care; stealth was hardly her specialty, and even if it was these guys had nothing on her. They may have grown up on the streets, but she owned the streets, and she was furious! Not even a bull rhino could stop her charge.

“HOLY FUCK!” Yelled the lead goon upon firing his gun. He missed; he was an awful shot.

Cassandra fell into a ninja run, arms stuck out behind her as she all but teleported to the lead goon, bringing the shaft of her naginata swinging for an abdomen shot. A sharp crack, and a gasp. Blood spilling from his mouth. He stumbled, and he fell back with nothing but the trash to cushion his fall. That face. Cassandra recognized that face from somewhere.

A knife slashed through the air and through Cassandra’s momentary stupor. Cassandra reached back, locking her wrist into the attacker's wrist. She gained leverage on him— who, after all, would expect someone so small to have such strength?— and she swung his blade-wielding arm right back around until it pierced through the soft flesh of his side. He screamed, and he fell aside clutching the wound. Another enemy stepped up to take his place.

Ninja stars, stored safely in the loose sleeves of Cassandra’s hoodie, flew out and assaulted the remaining men. Even if she wasn’t a ninja anymore, her old tricks would always come in handy, especially when beating bad-guy butt! More screams, more wounds, more blood. Except this time the men started to flee down the alley, trying to escape the wrath of the unseen demon.

“Oh no you don’t…”

Cassandra’s voice was a low growl as she pursued them. How could she let them walk away so easily when they stole everything from her? They weren’t that fast, not by her standards, and she was able to leave them with several slashes from her naginata for the road before she stopped at the end of the alleyway. They would need medical attention, perhaps go several grand in debt, for those wounds to be taken care of. She wanted more, but she knew her limits, and she knew there was no use creating more loose ends by killing the careless bastards.

There was one loose end she still had to tie up. The lead goon had been left behind, unable to stand, unable to run. He was still choking on his own blood, maybe from some internal injuries. Cassandra’s hatred waned at the sight of the pathetic dying man. She hadn’t intended so much injury just from one blow, and she was even debating calling an ambulance for him before…

She realized where she knew that face from, and it wasn’t from when he had burned down her bakery. She knew those eyes— those cold, dark eyes. The first time she had seen those eyes they had had an evil glint in them, evil that couldn’t be considered human. A face among the crowd, too proud to cover his identity like some as they hanged that poor child from the overpass and then paraded her body through the streets. She knew that face, and now she held no sympathy.

She lashed her naginata again, and again. She knew which parts of him she could slice and cut up without him dying because that would be too much of a mercy to him. His screams were nothing to her. His pleas of mercy, nothing. He was nothing. When the naginata wasn’t enough anymore, she resheathed it and just started to kick the absolute hell out of him.

“Hey.”

She didn't register the deep Brooklynn voice, and just kept kicking.

“HEY! Hey hey hey!”

Hands as wide as she was grabbed her around the waist and pulled her kicking and fighting away from the man that was now lying concerningly still.

“I think ya got him!”

All it took was a second for her to grab her blade and swing it out at whoever it was that had grabbed her; it took only half of that time for the massive wall of a mutant to step back. Another second, and Cassandra recognized the great green giant with a rush of glee.

“RAPH!”

She tossed herself at the mutant turtle, not for an attack but for a hug. Raph caught her quite easily in one arm, holding the woman securely to his chest and laughing as she tried in vain to wrap her arms around him.  

“Hey— hey, easy girl!” Raph let the hug go on for a few seconds more before sitting Cassandra back down on the ground. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

Raph had hardly recognized the woman when he had seen her from the vantage of the rooftops; in fact, the only reason he had realized it was her was when he saw the weapon. The hockey mask helped too, but it was mostly that naginata of hers. Looking at her standing there before him, she seemed like a completely different person than the one he remembered. She was still slender as far as humans went, but now it was more of a natural slender than the starved body she had before. A healthy layer of fat now covered her belly and her hips to protect the muscle beneath— her face was a little rounder too.

“You lookin’ good.” Raph said with a nod, “Still a little shortcake though.”

Cassandra, wanting to get a better look at Raph, decided to remove her mask. Raph’s eyes widened at the sight of the new mass of hair that Cassandra had grown, a mess of greasy black that wasn’t unlike a shaggy dog's coat, held back with a yellow bandana so it was just barely under control.

“I’m five feet of whoop ass and I’ll whoop yours, don’t test me.”

Raph threw his head back and rumbled a deep belly laugh. “Trust me, I won’t. I’ve been on the wrong end of a little lady’s wrath once or twice before. Nice hair, by the way.”

“Thanks.” Cassandra beamed, “It’s never been this long before! I think I like it.”

“Yeah, yeah, suits you nice.” Raph cleared his throat. He nodded toward the bloodied figure. “Did uh. That guy deserve the beating or?”

“He deserves more than that.” Cassandra spat on him; she wasn’t even mad about her bakery being burned down anymore. Well— she was still mad about it, but not in that moment. “The bastard had it coming.”

“Still.” Raph said softly, like a kind parent addressing a child, “You’d’ve killed him.”

“I wouldn’t have.” Cassandra said in a low tone. “I know better. I’ve done this before.”

Raph breathed through his nose and shook his head. He knew that look of hatred in Cassandra’s eyes— he had felt that look before, and had that same look directed at him. He cupped a hand across the length of Cassandra’s back and started to guide her away toward the fire escape. She listened reluctantly.

“Come on— let’s scram before the cops get here. You weren’t exactly being quiet you know.”

And up to the rooftop they went, several buildings down from the scene, but Cassandra still had that look. That look that Raph hated.

“What did those guys do to deserve that, CJ?”

“It’s personal…” Cassandra just barely muttered.

“Too personal to share?”

“Ask my turtles; they can explain it better. What are you doing here?”

“It’s personal.”

Cassandra smirked. “Too personal to share?”

Raph smiled despite himself and shook his head. “No, no it’s not.” He told her everything, and Cassandra got even more riled up.

“Seriously?! That fucked up man!” She was practically radiating chaotic energy, starting to swing her fists like a boxer, “Where are they? I’ll take em on! Right here, right now, no mercy! I wanna kick some Jurassic Ass!”

“Actually, triceratops’ are from the cretaceous.”

“Does that really matter?”

Raph pursed his lips. “No, I guess not. But… now that I told you my personal bizz, can you tell me yours? Maybe I can help.”

Cassandra looked at Raph. She considered her options, bit her lip, and decided on one.

“They burned down my bakery. It was also my house but that’s less important.”

“Cassandra…” Raph’s voice held nothing but sympathy. “Damn. Sorry to hear that. Do you have a place to stay or…?”

“April’s letting me crash at her crib which is suuuuuuuper dope! And I got a security deposit on the place so…”

“Well, I’m not excusing what they did, but is that really grounds for a murder?” He tried not to laugh— it just slipped out.

“That wasn’t my plan.” Cassandra smiled a tired smile, “I was just gonna beat ‘em up and make them pay reimbursement for my shop. Then I realized who he was.”

“Who is he?”

“A few months ago there was a live broadcast on ABC news. A bunch of guys wearing masks hung a mutant from an overpass and then dragged her body down the interstate. He was one of them.”

Raph’s breath caught. “Oh…”

“It was just a kid. The… guys were never caught until now.” She stared at listful at the flashes of red and blue in the distance, signaling that the man she had attacked was found. Rescued; a blessing that little kitten he slaughtered hadn’t been lucky enough to receive.

“I didn't know.” Raph said; he didn't even know mutants had been exposed here! Shouldn’t that have been important enough to mention. “What about the rest of them guys that got away?”

“I’ll find them.” Cassandra was confident.

“And… would they be gettin’ the same treatment as they boss?”

“I can’t know if they were involved. They might be like me. The Foot Clan did… a lot of things I wanted nothing to do with. If they’re the same as me it’s no use. But I am gonna rob em though.”

Raph laughed and pulled back his lips to show off his teeth. “Mind if I join ya?”

Cassandra blinked, and then smiled. “I would be honored.”

[reinerispretty]

I love your writing 🥺 Can you do a Sokka imagine where the reader is a firebender so Sokka doesnt take well to her joining the gaang at first, and they always bicker/ throw sarcastic comments at each other and the gaang is so sick of it! But one day they are forced to be alone together (they go on a mission?) and sparks fly n they kiss or something 😳 they return to camp and the gaang is like... ok why r u guys tolerating eachother and u guys r inseparable and super couply from then on!

hi!! sorry i’m just now getting to this!! i like to put lots of effort into my requests so i wanted it to be the best it could be :D hope you enjoy!!

---

(Y/N) had always been very proud of her firebending. Not everyone in the town she had grown up in were benders, so being able to bend one of the elements was a great honor. Because of her powers, she was on track to join the Fire Nation military. These plans changed of course, as soon as she met the Avatar and his friends. She had helped them escape capture and joined them on their adventures. They were all pretty hesitant about her joining, but eventually Toph vouched for her by saying that she wasn’t lying when she told them all she had ever wanted was to help people. 

(Y/N) had been traveling with their group for a few weeks and was slowly starting to build friendships with the other members of her group. Aang absolutely refused to learn firebending from her, but watched and laughed as she made little dragon puppets out of fire after dinner. She and Toph became fast friends, as they both had a similar wit and nonchalance about life. Katara took a bit to fully warm up to her, but (Y/N) was relentless and eventually they could exchange pleasant conversation as they cooked dinner. Even Appa licked her when she brought him hay, and Momo had started sharing his berries with her. The only person who didn’t like her at all was Sokka. 

“I don’t want a firebender joining us,” He had said pointedly when she first joined the group. He had been outvoted, of course, and now whenever (Y/N) did anything, he had something to say in return. If she arranged the sleeping bags, he complained about their positioning. If she made dinner that night, he complained about the taste. It seemed like he went out of his way to make her feel bad. 

Initially (Y/N) had tried to understand. The Fire Nation had hurt his people, so it was only natural that he was apprehensive toward her. But then his words started to hurt. One day, he had mentioned that she had betrayed her own people, so it would only be a matter of time until she betrayed them, too, and (Y/N) had had enough. She threw her bowl of soup to the ground and stood up. “What’s your problem?” She demanded. 

“My problem is with you,” He spat. “You’re Fire Nation, you can’t be trusted.” 

“Don’t you think that if I had even thought about turning you all in to the Fire Lord, I would have done it already?” 

“I don’t know what goes on in your little spy brain!” 

“I know what goes on in your brain: absolutely nothing!” She let out a frustrated scream and turned on her heel, marching into her tent. The rest of the group stared at Sokka awkwardly. 

“She’s such a piece of work,” He grumbled, sipping on his soup. “Can you believe her?” 

Over the next few weeks, whenever Sokka said an insult toward (Y/N) she’d shoot one right back. If he wanted to be a pain in her side, fine. She’d be one in his, too. 

“You sure your twig arms can handle that firewood?” She asked him as he brought wood for their campfire. 

“Hey, at least I’m doing something. What, are you too busy plotting how to take over the world to help?” 

Their conversations were just insults and sarcastic quips, and eventually the rest of the group started to get sick of it. One night, as they sat at dinner, (Y/N) and Sokka were bickering because they had been forced to sit beside each other. Toph drove a piece of earth between them and flung them in opposite directions. “Would you guys quit it!” The girl shouted. “I only have four out of the five senses and you guys are driving them all crazy!” 

“Sorry, Toph,” (Y/N) apologized, brushing herself off. “You know how he is.” 

“Me?” Sokka exclaimed. “Toph, you know how she is!” 

“You arrogant, good for nothing--” 

“Ow!” Aang shouted, clutching his foot. The group stopped to look at him. “Ow, ow, ow, I think I stepped on something. My foot really hurts!” Katara rushed over to take a look and furrowed her brows. 

“I don’t--” 

“Oh, Sokka,” Aang sighed. “I don’t think I can go on that mission with you tomorrow, my foot just hurts too bad!” He gave Katara a big wink. 

“Oh, of course!” She said, finally getting what Aang was trying to do. “I have to stay here and help Aang heal. I’ll need Toph’s help, too, so (Y/N) is the only one who can go on the mission with you.” 

“I’d rather go alone,” Sokka said, crossing his arms. 

“Please, how are you going to defend yourself if you don’t have a bender with you?” (Y/N) asked with a roll of her eyes. Sokka balled his fists and stormed off to his tent, mumbling angry, incoherent sentences. (Y/N) yawned and retreated back to her tent for the night. 

“I’m not really injured,” Aang said. 

“Really?” Toph deadpanned. “Couldn’t tell.” 

“I just wanted a break from the two of them. They’re always fighting!” 

“Who knows,” Katara said with a smile. “Maybe the trip will bring them closer together.” 

The next morning, (Y/N) and Sokka begrudgingly walked side-by-side to their mission. They were doing a stake out of some Fire Navy ships to see what kind of weapons they were storing on them. They climbed up to a tall hillside, where they could comfortably watch the ships. As long as they were quiet, they wouldn’t bring any attention to themselves. 

Sokka’s plan was to stay there for a full twenty-four hours. Every time (Y/N) thought about being around him that long, she nearly gagged, but she had to swallow it down because she knew this mission would be for the greater good. Hopefully, there would be more watching than talking.

They set up their tents behind some rocks so they would not look suspicious. And then, they sat. And they sat for a long time. (Y/N) was growing increasingly bored, just watching soldiers go in and out of the ships. She sighed, laying back down on the grass. 

“What exactly are we looking for?” 

“Nothing.” She propped herself up on her elbows. 

“Excuse me?” 

“We aren’t looking for anything. Well, not anything specific. I just want to know what kind of weapons they’re using so I can write to the Mechanist to create better ones for us.” 

“So...we’re just going to watch?” 

“Do you not know what a stake out is?” 

“I do! I just didn’t know it was going to be a full day of doing absolutely nothing.” 

“Look, if you don’t want to be here, fine. You can go back to the camp. I can handle myself.” (Y/N) scoffed. 

“I’m not leaving you here alone, Sokka.” 

“Then I suggest you stop complaining.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes and reached into her bag. She pulled out two sandwiches and laid them beside her. “What are those?” 

“Food,” She said, sliding a sandwich over to him. He took it suspiciously. “It’s not poisoned, you dummy. I got up early this morning and went to the market so I could make stake out snacks.” 

“Oh, thanks. I guess.” 

“You’re welcome.” 

They sat in silence for what felt like a lifetime. (Y/N) watched the soldiers intently and had even made up backstories for some of them. The smaller soldier was named Lee, and he was a fiesty little fellow, but he was a new recruit. He had good ideas, but no one really wanted to listen to him because he lacked authority. (Y/N) sighed as she watched him talk to his commanders. Poor Lee. 

“I recognize that one,” she said suddenly, pointing at one of the soldiers. “He and I went to training camp together one summer.” 

“Oh, so that’s your friend. Great.” (Y/N) furrowed her brows. 

“I never said he was my friend.” 

“I just assumed, since you were both all ‘Go Fire Nation!’“ He sarcastically pumped a fist into his air. 

“You make a lot of assumptions about me for someone who doesn’t know me.” 

“I know exactly who you are. You’re a spoiled girl from the Fire Nation who wasn’t satisfied with her life and only wanted to join us to run away from your probably mean family. You don’t want to make change, you just wanted an out.” 

“That’s not true at all, Sokka. I grew up poor. Dirt poor. And when I say that I mean it, because the floors of my house were literally dirt. No one asked me if I wanted to join the Fire Nation military, they told me I was going to. I was brought up my whole life surrounded by people who told me how great my nation was. If everyone’s telling you something and you have no reason to believe otherwise, you start to believe it. I know I’m not perfect, but I’m really tired of you thinking that you know who I am.” She pulled her knees into her chest and tucked her chin on top of them. 

Sokka sighed. The sun was setting behind them. “It’s obvious I don’t like the Fire Nation. They’ve caused a lot of pain to me and Katara and to thousands of other people. So when you joined, I guess I just projected that anger onto you.” 

“I understand. But I’m not the entire Fire Nation.” 

“I know, it’s just hard to separate the two sometimes. I can literally see the Fire Nation inside of you. You’re decisive and strong and stubborn--” 

“I’m just going to focus on the first two. You really think those things about me?” 

“I mean, yeah. I’ve seen you talk your way out of fights but also kick some major butt. As much as I hate to say it, you’re pretty cool.” (Y/N) smiled and opened her mouth to respond, but her eyes widened as a giant fireball plummeted toward them. 

“Look out!” She shouted, tackling Sokka out of the way. They both grunted in pain as they hit the ground. 

“How did they even see us?” Sokka asked. He grabbed (Y/N) by the hand and led her up the hill. They abandoned all of their camping stuff (as it was currently on fire) and ran down the backside of the hill, away from the Fire Navy ships. (Y/N) spotted a cave and pulled Sokka inside. They both leaned against the cool rock, breathing heavily. 

“Well, so much for the stake out,” (Y/N) said. Sokka laughed. 

“We’ll have to wait here for the night. The ships are supposed to leave at dawn tomorrow, so we can travel back to camp then.” (Y/N) nodded. The sun had fully set behind them and the cool chill of night was setting in. She shivered. “I can get a fire going,” Sokka said, and began to collect the debris that was scattered around the cave. (Y/N) giggled. 

“Sokka, I got it.” She kicked some leaves and sticks into a pile and kicked a flame on top of them. They sat across from each other with their backs against the cave walls. 

“So, how’d you know you were a firebender?” He asked. (Y/N) shrugged. 

“I think I started coughing fire one day. My family expected it though. My father had been a firebender.” She pursed her lips and stared at the ground. “He was sent to fight in the war. He didn’t end up coming home.” 

“I’m so sorry,” Sokka said quietly. She shrugged. 

“I feel torn about it, you know? Because he fought for hatred and injustice, but I also never got to find out if he supported the war or not. The Fire Nation doesn’t really care if you want to fight. They make you do it anyway.” 

“I always wanted to fight, ever since I was little.” Sokka said. “But now while I’m living my dream, I see how nasty it actually is and understand why my dad didn’t want me to.” 

“Well, you’re a pretty good fighter, so I’m sure he’s proud of you.” Sokka smiled. 

“I’m sure your dad is proud of you, too.” (Y/N) grinned. “Listen, I’m sorry for being so mean to you. I guess I was projecting feelings on to you that I had towards the Fire Nation, and it wasn’t fair. But in my defense, everything you did just made me mad. Like the way you cooked soup, or how pretty your eyes were, or how nice your laugh sounded...” Sokka trailed off, a blush appearing on his cheeks. “I said that all out loud, didn’t I?” 

(Y/N) nodded, trying her best to contain her smile. “Alright,” Sokka said. “You can just kill me now, I guess.” (Y/N) burst into laughter. 

“It’s really okay, Sokka. I’m sorry for being mean to you as well. Everything you did made me mad, like how you constantly teased me, or how cute your ponytail looks, or how funny your jokes were...” 

“You...you really think my jokes are funny?” (Y/N) nodded before sliding to sit at his side. “Can I try something?” (Y/N) nodded again. Their faces were just inches apart and she could tell the fire was dying by the dim glow it left on Sokka’s cheeks. He touched her own cheek with his hand, before pulling her close and slowly connecting their lips. (Y/N) felt her face grow hot, but she still let her eyes close and reveled in the feeling of his kiss. They stayed like that for a while, long after the fire went out. 

When they returned to their friends the next morning, they walked hand in hand. Aang and Katara’s mouths dropped open and Toph stamped her feet on the ground. “There must be something wrong,” She said. “Are they...touching each other?” 

“Hey, guys!” Sokka said, a bright smile on his face. “Aang, how’s the foot doing?” 

“Uh, pretty good,” Aang said, pretending to lift his foot as if it were injured. 

“What’s um...going on here?” Katara asked. 

“Sokka and I had a pretty good stake out,” (Y/N) said. She let her hand slip from his. “I’m gonna get started on lunch.” 

“Alrighty,” Sokka said before planting a kiss on her cheek. He sighed happily as he watched her walk away. “Aang, I really have to thank you for pretending to hurt your foot.” 

---

Permatag List!

@musicalkeys , @aroyaldarknessblr

[ushiwakatrash]

On your knees, King! (Part 3)

Bakugou x reader, Todoroki x reader

Fantasy AU

!Warnings!: Swearing, betrayal, lil dash of angst, shitty writing, abuse, physical harm

Synopsis:

Bakugou is the esteemed King of the Kingdom of Barbarians and because he succeeded in ruling the lands that were once governed by the Yuuei Kingdom, an offering must be made for the peace of the people. As the so-called ‘black sheep’ of the royal family, the King of Yuuei a.k.a. your father, offered you–naming you the most precious thing he could give; but you know the truth behind his words.

PART III

← Part 2           Part 4 →

Things started to get hectic in both the Yuuei and Barbarian kingdoms for only a few weeks were left until the wedding. Seeing the decorations being put up only meant a reminder for both Shoto and (Y/n) that it was real, it was happening-- but it was happening too fast for them to comprehend.

The princess was in a daze during her meal time with the only family she had left, her father. Ever since her mother passed away, things turned into hell.  Before fully agreeing to give their daughter away, the queen stood her ground in protest and resisted the King’s order. 

Blinded by rage, he threatened his wife with a sword but still, her gaze was firm and decision never wavered. The last string of patience the king had snapped and he swung his sword towards the woman, slicing her deep from the chest to her abdomen. 

In his state of shock, he stood there, hands shaking. His lover was no more and all because of the stupid Barbaric king, all because of his useless daughter, he lost more then just his kingdom. He had lost his wife.

 It took a long while for the king to come to terms with the thought of his diseased lover but he channeled all his pain into making another’s life miserable. 

Out of everyone, he had to choose his poor daughter, who he had blamed for everything.

“(Y/n)! I expect you to be on your best behavior and for once not be a failure to this family. Am I clear?” A tired nod was all she could answer. The king quietly stood up from his seat and hastily made it to (Y/n)’s side. A loud smack resounded in the room.

“I am a king here and I expect you to treat me like one, you useless bitch! When I ask you a question, answer me properly!” This was the king nobody from outside knew about. Only the people inside the palace knew about the true nature of this ‘kind’ king.

“Yes, your majesty. I have made a mistake.” The old man just scoffed and retreated to his room, leaving his daughter alone to dine. Because she is the Princess of the commoners, people from the palace were often enraged to see her being treated poorly by the only real family she had.

With no words being said, a cloth with cool water was handed to her by one of her most trusted maids, Ochako. “Milady, it is to avoid swelling.” (Y/n) gratefully took it and dabbed it over the reddening spot on her cheek.

“Now that my father is away and in his quarters, won’t you maids join me for my meal? Let’s leave some for the guards standing in the doorway as well.” This occurrence happened frequently. They knew it was no bribe from the princess, but pure genuine kindness. She was a far better ruler than her damn father.

“But ma’am...” the princess slouched in her seat to get comfortable “Oh come on, we’ve been doing this for quite some time now! I don’t wanna eat alone” she unleashed her puppy eyes and the maids couldn’t refuse any longer.

Her hand maid ushered the rest of the servants in the room to take their seats and they joyfully shared stories over the table. See, (Y/n) was really interested in the commoner life not to compare to her own, but to get to know the ways of her people. 

This is why even if the king treats her badly, the servants in the palace would never turn against her and if they had to take sides, they would all go to princess’ aide. 

“Milady, how are things with your fiancé?” the bold maid named Mina asked. “M-Mina?! You can’t just ask things like that!” The head maid Momo scolded. “No it’s okay Momo, guys you’re my friends just drop the Milady shit and call me (Y/n)”

Mina gave a victory smile to Momo and the the latter just sighed. “I haven’t met him yet in all honesty, but I think we’re going to their castle in a few days, or maybe tomorrow. I didn’t really listen to what that stupid old fart told me” 

They held their laughter at the nickname the king’s daughter had for him. “I hope even if he is one of those Barbaric bastards, he treats you fairly” Ochako had a sad smile on her face. The princess already had enough of her father’s torturing so having a bad husband would only continue her hell.

“In all honesty, I thought you would be wed to Prince Shoto. You were such a good match! I’m sure you would be happy with him” “Yes, Jiro that was the plan but it seems that fate had decided to push us apart. I’m sure I would have been happy but I’m not closing my doors to the thought of the new King as a husband. Maybe he can entertain me.”

“You can hunt together or maybe go on horse rides to lakes to watch the sunset!” (Y/n) knew this was too good to be true. Her soon to be husband was a brute, it would be weird if he was indeed that romantic. “Hah. I doubt he even has a romantic bone in his body. Anyway, I’ll be leaving first, girls. Ochako would you be a dear and please prepare my bath after you’re done eating. Do not worry, you can take your time and rest. Goodnight to all of you.”

“Sure thing princess!” “May you rest well.” “Nighty, (Y/n)”!”

-- 

“Oi hag, what kind of woman is she anyway? If it’s just some pissy girl I’d rather decapitate her family.” The older blonde smacked hiS HEAD. “Watch that stupid mouth of your brat! I’m sure she’s the perfect match for you. When has your mother been wrong?” The former queen smirked.

“She better not be weak. I don’t want my reputation to plummet because of some woman. I’m leaving with Kirishima to go hunt!” “Bring me a fat boar while you’re at it!”

--

Kirishima flew freely in the skies with Bakugou sitting snug on his back. At the same time, (Y/n) went to the woods after eating to let off some steam. Every time she thinks about her stupid father, rage fills her head. Nothing was her fault so why was she treated so badly.

The special spot (Y/n) and the friend who gave her necklace was her safe place. It was also the best spot to hunt boars, pigeons and if you’re lucky, deers.

She brought a bow and a sword with her and began to position herself to be hidden from her preys. Her sharp gaze caught a healthy fat boar in sight and the same time her arrow hit, a blade fell from the sky.

“Who’s the fuck did this to my fucking boar?!” A big gust of wind blew and standing before her was a huge red dragon, scales as red and as shiny as rubies.

“That’s my boar fuckface! Look for your own!” A blonde muscular man hopped off the dragon’s back. The Princess had put her cloak on to seal her identify, the man had a hood on too but his muscles were out for the world to see.

“You deaf, boy?! If you weren’t flying so high, you could have seen that my arrow had already pierced it before your dull blade could. Hands off my catch!” The man pulled the sword out of the boar and pointed it at the princess.

“No way, it’s mine! If you want it, fight for it!” (Y/n) wasted no time as she unsheathed her own weapon from it’s scabbard and went in for an attack. The blonde was surprised at the sudden movement of the woman but blocked her sword nonetheless. 

“You got spunk woman, but can you even handle my strength?” “Hah please, I can take you on any day, dandelion!” Their sparring took quite a while and Kirishima just sat at the back with a slight worried look on his face.

The girl took notice of the dragon’s structure and thought maybe it was hungry, but in fact Kirishima was just getting bored. When she managed to push her opponent back a little, she ran towards the boar and threw it at the dragon.

“Here boy, catch!” the smell of meat made Kirishima quickly respond and at the end of the duel, it was the red dragon who immersed victorious. 

(Y/n) laughed at the face the man made when their loot was snagged by the dragon. “Oi Kirishima! Why’d you eat it?!” The dragon just huffed in response. The girl went close to the dragon to try to pet it and because of the treat given by her, Kirishima bent his head to get the pats he loved. 

She then directed her attention to the male with a huge scowl on his face. Digging through her pouch, she handed him a loaf of bread and cheese. “Here, take it. I enjoyed our spar. I would have loved to ask for your name and to spar another time, but I think it’s impossible now.” she smiled sadly.

The blonde on the other hand only got curious “Why?” “I’m getting married soon. I can’t just hang around guys freely.” The sun was starting to set and people may have started to look for her in the palace.

“It’s time for me to go. If we see each other again, let’s exchange names, dandelion. I hope you can take me to the skies some time Kirishima! Have a safe journey home”

She didn’t wait for their response as she fled the scene quickly. 

Taglist: @the-sander-fander @cathwritestragediesnotsins @emilymikado @itsmysticalmystery

Taglist is open!

[yandere-society]

Ih-pif-uh-nee

Synopsis: After successfully finding matches for humans for a millennia, Cupid grows irritated when he repeatedly fails to find YN’s soulmate. He decides to go undercover and disguise himself as a normal human to attempt to get closer to her, only to become convinced that HE is the mate he’s been searching for all along.

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Word Count: 2k

Admin: @chimchimsauce​

Valentine’s Day Event Masterlist

Trigger warnings: yandere-themes, stallking

Cupid is on cloud nine, staring up into the painted sky, the soft coldness of a cloud caressing his large, folded wings. As the sun slowly begins to sink, the god of love rolls onto his stomach, dragging his finger through a passing cloud.

Another day, another match made in heaven. Satisfaction warms Cupid’s heart as he thinks of the young couple he recently paired up - a rich girl from a very influential family and a poor young man struggling to put himself through college. Pairings like that have always been Cupid’s favorite. Unlikely love always blooms faster, roots deeper into the lives of those he strikes with his arrows.

As the sun falls completely beneath the Earth and the moon rises to shine, Cupid sits up, reaching into the sky to pluck a falling star from above. The star shines brightly in his cupped hands, glowing before Cupid cracks it open like an Easter egg to reveal his latest assignment.

While the god is ultimately in control of his matches, every so often, Aphrodite will send tell him of someone special, someone who will require a bit more than a few well-timed coincidental meetings and an arrow to the chest. His mother’s always been a bit of a know it all and a meddler, so it’s not terribly unusual for her to push her own agenda through her son.

Cupid sighs. It’s nearing Valentine’s Day, so hopefully, he’ll have a bit more luck with this assignment than he did with the last one. Last time it took Cupid a fortnight to get the seed of love planted deep enough between a cynical old man and the lady he’d worked with for over two decades. But still, Cupid’s never been unable to make a spark between two people, not even when he was younger and would shoot arrows at random people just for fun.

Of course, he’s matured significantly since then. He doesn’t play such games anymore.

Reading the note he pulls from the star, Cupid reads the name.

YN LN

There’s nothing particularly remarkable about the name. He’s heard it before, used by other people throughout the years. The photograph he’s been given also does not stir anything in him. He wonders briefly what his mother is planning, sending him this assignment without any context. Usually, she’ll at least send some background information on the person and who she wants them to end up with, but there’s nothing else in the star but her name and photo.

Cupid seals the star back, tossing it as far into the sky as he can, letting it return to orbit. He places the photograph into the folds of his angelic garment, standing up and stepping off of the cloud, plummeting towards the Earth’s surface.

He might as well get started now.

Cupid lands gently on a large hill overlooking a sleepy college town, bare feet touching the soft grass. He disappears into the night as he descends upon the town, slipping between dimensions as only gods can do.

It practically takes him no time at all to locate her, YN studying diligently at a library that looks as old as Cupid himself is. Quietly, he lets his presence rest beside her, eyes going over her form, trying to figure out what’s so special about her that she caught his mother’s attention. She’s pretty enough for a human but her face isn’t anything you’d double take on. She almost seems . . . plain.

Cupid can’t help but be a little disappointed. He’d hoped this assignment would be interesting, but it seems like it’ll end up being a bore after all. He’s half tempted to just shoot her and be done with it, but he has a feeling his mother won’t be pleased with him if he does that.

Deciding to give this assignment his all (if for no other reason than not having to put up with one of his mom’s hissy fits) Cupid spends the next few days trailing YN, figuring out her habits, likes, and dislikes. He even sets up a few matches - the guy in her class, one of her pretty friends, a worker in the local grocery store - but to no avail.

Despite shooting the girl with three arrows, not even a lick of love sparks within her. YN just continues her monotonous life, boring the hell out of Cupid.

After an entire week of this, Cupid grows impatient and decides to handle this matter even more personally.

Transforming into human form, Cupid feels the elements against his skin for the first time since . . . he shakes that thought out of his head. A little bit of persuasion is all it takes to get him a new identity and set up at a small bed and breakfast just a few minutes’ walk from YN’s dorm.

He has it all planned perfectly. He’ll run into her at the coffee shop she works part-time at and befriend her, using their time together to find her perfect match. He’s never had to put in this much effort before.

But as soon as Cupid walks into the coffee shop, the little bell over the door rings and the two of them lock eyes, the god’s breath catching in his throat. She smiles at him, the very first time she’s smiled since he’s been trailing her.

Something pulls at his subconscious, just out of reach. Whatever it is is familiar, comforting to him. He doesn’t realize that he’s staring until she clears her throat uncomfortably.

“How may I help you?” she asks.

“I . . . just a coffee, please. Black,” he says once he’s regained a bit of his sense.

“Sure thing. What name would you like me to put it under?” YN asks, already beginning to create the drink.

“Jimin,” he says before he can stop himself, his true name tumbling out between his lips.

Because she’s faced away from him, YN doesn’t notice the shocked look on Jimin’s face. His hand covering his mouth. He can’t believe he said that!

The name ‘Jimin’ was given to him over a thousand years ago, by someone he can’t remember. His mother forbade him from using it and he’s gone by Cupid ever since. So why . . .

“Your total is $3.50. Will that be all for you today?”

“Yes,” Jimin says, rummaging through his pockets to pull out some money he’d manifested earlier that day.

The coffee shop is empty besides the two of them, Jimin choosing to sit by the glass storefront while YN hums quietly to herself, wiping down the counters and tidying up. Soon though, it becomes apparent through his side-eyed watch that she’s out of things to do, just sort of idling around. It’s only then that he god of love remembers that he’s on a mission.

“So uh,” he speaks up, the coffee cup warming his hands, “I’m new in town and I was wondering if you knew of what all there is to do?”

Jimin hates how unconfident he sounds. It’s so unlike him.

“Well,” she begins, grateful for a distraction, “There isn’t all that much to do. It is a rather small town after all.”

“Surely there must be something,” Jimin pushes, really eager to speak with her.

“Hm,” she begins, “There’s actually this very pretty underground lake. You can only see it once every couple of weeks because the cave it’s in is usually flooded - it rains here a lot by the way - but it’s absolutely gorgeous,”

“I’ll have to go sometime,”

Over the course of that singular trip to the coffee shop, Cupid completely forgets that YN is supposed to be an assignment. He becomes completely and utterly enthralled with her and her boring little life. The gods always have something going on, some drama or scandal or fight. It’s so nice just to be able to relax with someone - to actually become close to someone. Jimin sees YN every day. First, he just stops by to get a morning coffee, but soon enough he ends up walking her home after her shift ends and helping her study at the library.

Every expression of hers he has memorized. He lies awake at night and thinks about her, anxious to spend time with her again. It consumes his entire being, is his motivation for his every decision.

Until . . .

Until . . .

Until two months later, when the most gorgeous woman alive is at his doorstep. His mother catches the attention of everyone who walks by, sending one gentleman a flirtatious wink and causing him to walk into a pole.

“What are you doing here, Mother?” Jimin asks sharply, less than thrilled to see her.

“Checking on you,” she says, eyeing him up and down with a hand on her curved hip, “It seems you’ve gotten rather . . . distracted.”

Jimin bristles, growing visibly upset.

“I assigned you to find this girl a mate, not to fall for her,” Aphrodite says, her tone leaving no room for debate.

“I’m not falling for her,” Jimin hisses through his teeth, the lie obvious even to himself.

“You have one more week,” she threatens, “Or else.”

She doesn’t need to elaborate. Jimin knows his mother well enough to know whatever she has planned is awful.

As soon as she leaves, the god has an anger fit, trashing the small rented room he moved into just three weeks ago. He has to see her - he has to go be with YN. She’s the only thing that can calm him down enough for him to make a gameplan.

But as Jimin hurriedly makes his way to her house, he stops when he sees someone - an unfamiliar man - sitting on one of the dorm porch swings and chatting with her. The stranger looks up briefly, catching eyes with Jimin.

“Apollo,” Jimin curses, vision turning red from how pissed off he is.

Before YN can even blink, Jimin has Apollo by the throat, ignoring YN’s panicked cries.

“Stay away from her,” Jimin warms, nails digging into the other god’s skin, “You run and tell my mother to keep her nose out of my business. I’m done doing her dirty work for her.”

He tosses Apollo to the ground, unaware that he’s partially revealed his true form to the terrified young woman behind him. Apollo flashes away, clutching his own throat, fear in his eyes.

When Jimin finally turns towards YN, she’s petrified, a scream caught in her throat.

What’s going on? What had just happened?

“Oh, baby, no, don’t be worried,” Jimin coos, taking YN into his arms.

He doesn’t care that she’s as stiff as a board, immobilized by fear.

“The bad people are gone now. It’s just us, okay. You don’t have to be worried.”

His overly calm tone causes YN to snap out of her reverie, trying to pull away from the man she thought was a friend - the man she thought was human.

“I’m in love with you, YN,” he says, ignoring her attempts to flee and crushing her to his chest like a small child, “I didn’t think I could fall in love, but here I am. I think about you every waking moment, desperate to be around you, desperate to touch you. You feel it too, don’t you, YN?” Jimin says, a crazed look glossing his eyes.

Tears well up in YN’s eyes as she looks at him and realizes what danger she’s in.

“I know you do,” Jimin says, falsely taking her silence for agreement, “Kiss me.”

It’s a command, one she’s much too afraid to ignore. Trembling, Yn shakily presses her lips to his, unaware of the visions she’s just spawned in his head.

All at once, his memories come back to him, hitting the god-like a pile of bricks. He pulls back from her only briefly to wipe her tears away before recapturing her lips in a deeper kiss, never wanting to be parted from her again.

Psyche. His Psyche. The one he’d fallen in love with all those millennia ago, only to be ripped apart when his own mother killed her and their unborn child. No wonder she felt so familiar, so comforting. YN is his soulmate, no one else’s.

He wipes away every one of her continuously falling tears, moving to kiss her forehead.

“Don’t worry, darling. We’re going to be together for the rest of eternity . . . right after I kill my mother.”

[errthel]

Route Two Deux

Welcome to part two of which may become a discontinued fantasy, but tis is life I guess. Pulled from the ever fantastic Second Wife AU of the Draconia Family Series by @tri3tri if you didn't know, and if you didn't, how?????? So without further ado I guess, this is the second part.

Tired eyes wandered off to the lush green lawn surrounding the outside of the building. From the barstool in the kitchen, he could see the green grass with tidy flower beds, a small pond off to the side giving a sense of serenity to whoever walked in there. The silence of the large house would have accented the loneliness of the boy, but the music that boomed from the speakers in the other room did well to hide it.

Lucien's damp mood was brought to him by an acceptance letter from a school he never applied to. He remembered that day a week ago when a dove brought it to him during breakfast, and the horror that ensued from his grandparents prompted them to eplain that the school, Royal Sword Academy, was in the same world as his wretched father.

He was familiar with the concept of his mother and sisters held captive in a world separate from his own. He was also aware of the existence of magic in that world, and to some extent, his own. The teen remembered distant memories of the past, when he would uncontrollably make objects float and with the unlocking of a special power when he was ten, it seemed that he should have expected something to happen to him.

Lucien expected dying to the hands of the government or being killed in a lab or just being exiled from society and be forced into becoming a laborer. But he stupidly didn't expect an acceptance letter to a magic school, that was a big oh right moment he thought.

His pale hand brought up the juice box to his delicate lips, which were rather plump and pink. Dispite his seemingly feminine lips, his face is anything but female or male. To everyone around him, Lucien is the epitome of androgynous beauty, and if it wasn't for his rather deep and masculine voice, he would have passed off as a female, a rather tall one at that

To his surprise the only one who really physically changed was him, he grew up to a hulking one hundred and eighty cm. While his grandparents, who were having a date in town, maintained their semi-youthful appearance, no matter how much Lucien tried to find a difference from photos of the past to now, he couldn't find any. Are they perhaps immortal? Or have magic unconsciously?

He wasn't sure about that, they smelled as normal as everybody else so he never questioned it.

The ringing of his phone caught his attention as he brought the hunk of metal to his ear.

"Lucien here."

"Ahh! Lucien-sama!" Ah... another girl

Lucien sighed a silent sigh before he quickly asked, "Um... may I ask who this is?"

"Mhm! I'm Mari-chan! From Class 1-B!" the female voice from the other end said in a cheery manner

"Oh okay... sorry, but I have something to do..."

...

"Do I have to get another number? I just got this one a month ago."

"Another one?" Albert's gruff voice evaded the silence of the home making Lucien sigh once more

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure she's a high schooler, no one's named Mari in the middle school department."

"Gosh. Our grandson's soooooo popular!"

"This is not a laughing matter Hanna!"

"Why? I'm plenty proud of Lucien! Aren't you? He's like the middle schooler you never were."

"What do you mean by that!"

"Hey, gramps, when I go to Royal Sword Academy, what should I do... you know. I wanna see mother, but I don't want to risk getting her in trouble, same for my sisters." a sad tone took over the fifteen year old's speech

"So that's what you've been thinking of kid..." Albert trailed off as he examined the younger boy

Over the years the boy's grandparents received visions, where they came from, they didn't know. Each and every vision they had, they dictated to Lucien, the visions consisted of the life his mother had living with his so called father, father my foot Lucien thought. But the visions never showed what happened after that tall woman took his mother and sisters, and any knowledge about it was something Lucien heavily desired.

Hanna walked over to the barstool Lucien sat at and sat on the one next to it, she held a sympathetic look whilst a sad disposition overtook her.

"Lucien, you are a smart child, when you are there, I implore you to make decisions that will help you towards your goal." her cold frigid tone showcased the woman's serious side as she pat her grandson's back.

"Kid, when you're there, there will be a time where you will have to show your other form. Whether that time be the first time you step into that school, or at graduation, I hope you don't regret it." Albert added as he walked to the pair

"Mhm..."

~

The rest of the day was somber as the fated day drew closer and closer, whatever day that may be. Lucien thought back to what might have went through his mother's mind when she woke up at Night Raven College. Was she scared? He thinks she was.

His mother... Lucien no longer remembers what she looked like or what his sisters looked like. He can only remember the warmth they gave him years ago, before that day.

He remembers sobbing uncontrollably when he and his grandparents watched 'Sleeping Beauty' one day in the past. His small hands took what ever they could and threw it to the television when the villainess, Maleficent, first appeared on the screen. The hands of his grandmother held him back as his grandfather, in sheer panic, unplugged the television cord.

That 'episode' of his left him trembling and wary of all Disney movies for a long time.

~

The heaviness of the plastic bag he was carrying made the boy cringe. He had only planned to buy a few cups of coffee jelly to share with his friends at the club, but the amount of girls that stopped him to give him some more made him uncomfortable.

The plastic bag was at its witts end as it held at least twenty cups of coffee jelly, storebought and homemade.

Once he had reached his destination, his other hand found the handle of the door that was labeled 'music club' and slid it open. The slight laughter inside the room made Lucien warm up as he ducked a bit to get in.

"Oh! Lucien-senpai! What are you doing here!" a shorter boy with blond tresses sitting by the shiney drum set called out

"Just visiting." Lucien smiled lightly to the boy

"O! There it is! Lucien-senpai's mysterious smile!"

"Hush, hush, Kei-chan." a brown haired girl said to Kei

"Lucien-senpai, I also feel the same as Kei-chan. What brings you here? I thought he graduating class was given a week off." she said looking at the taller male

"There's no harm in visiting my dear underclassmen isn't there, Haru? I thought I would say something before going off to my new school." Lucien said, grimacing a bit in the inside at the thought of leaving this wonderful world of his in pursuit of a world he has no idea about

"So the rumor of Lucien-san leaving for another school was true after all..." a flamboyant voice evaded the club room followed by the shutting of the door

Lucien looked behind to see a head of dyed light pink hair, styled into a very stylish hair style. He chuckled before confirming the rumor.

"Yeah, I have been forced to attend a new school. Also, nice hair Takashi."

"Huuhh! I thought your grandparents were the chillest grandparents! I never knew they would force you to attend a different school." Kei's loud voice made Lucien answer with a sigh

"It wasn't my grandparents really, intact they were against the idea of me changing schools."

"Eh? Then who forced you?" Takashi asked as Haru looked at the oldest male with questioning eyes

"...it's a secret..." Lucien said as he gave a discreet smile with hooded eyes

"Is that so? Actually, I don't think we know anything about your parents Lucien-san." Takashi questioned

"Actually Takashi-senpai is right, we don't know anything about your parents. Are they perhaps the one who're forcing you to change schools Lucien-senpai?" Haru said voicing out her worries

A lump appeared in Lucien's throat, he wasn't at all sensitive to the absence of his parents. He just mildly disliked the concept of parents, considering his own parents weren't a golden example. His 'father' could be summed up to just being a sperm donor and he wouldn't bat an eye. But his mother, oh his poor mother, tortured to do things against her own volition. He hated it, hated that parents meant a pair, a pair that is supposedly bounded by mutual love, but his own parents were just a disgrace to that. He doesn't even know if his mother is still alive at the hands of his father's family.

"I, don't know anything about them." sweetly smiling, hiding his malice to that word so that his underclassmen would stop concerning themselves with talk about his parents

The room plummeted to a chilling atmosphere, their upperclassman wasn't in a good mood, they could tell. They could also tell that any talk about his parents put him in an silently aggressive mood, so they took care to shut their mouths.

"Right! I have coffee jelly with me. I was supposed to get four, but it seems that with my parting with the school, the amount of people giving me coffee jelly has increased. I'm starting to think that I'm getting sick of it." Lucien said in his usual voice, which helped immensely in warming up the room, and in time the whole club was enjoying the desserts with some lovely music

~

Tbh, I have no idea what is happening with Lucien. I just imagine him as someone who decides based on his goal, which is to get out of Twisted Wonderland with minimal drama, plus points on getting his family back, and that would definitely be something his grandparents repeat everytime he thinks of his mother.

When he gets upset, he tends to not outwardly show it at all, he knows better than to throw tantrums.

Lucien surprisingly is also someone who goes with the flow, but he still doesn't blindly let everything to fate. He makes decisions in situations on the spot, and they always worked out for him, so why change?

[kiarcheo]

Cake Mates - Parrward

“That’s how you know. When two people eat a cake off the floor, that’s it for life.”

1111 words (I just think it’s neat) inspired by this. Read on Ao3 here

Cathy sees it happening almost in slow-motion. One of the partygoers turning around the kitchen counter in a hurry, bumping into the cake stand without even realising it and going on their merry way. The pedestal wobbling before falling off the counter, the cake splattering on the floor. It's behind the counter and she can't actually see it, but Cathy can't imagine how anything different could happen.

She glances around, eyes looking for the host, but she doesn't see her. Nobody else seems to have noticed what happened. It's a split-second decision. Before she knows what she is doing, Cathy moves towards the kitchen, plate and cutlery still in her hands from her last go at the buffet style food served at the party.

As she turns around the counter...

‘This is not what it looks like?’ A girl is sitting on the floor, looking exactly like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Or in this case, with a spoon loaded with cake halfway to her mouth.

‘Too bad?’ Cathy replies with the same upward inflection that makes her statement sound like question, holding up her own fork.

The girl lets out a laugh. ‘Then it's exactly what it looks like.’

‘How is it?’ It is clearly a rhetorical question as Cathy lowers herself to the floor without waiting to hear the response.  

‘Never had anything Jane made that was not delicious.’ The girl finally brings the spoon to her mouth.  'Please help yourself.' She motions with the now empty spoon to the cake splattered on the floor. 'Probably better if I don't eat it all by myself.'

Cathy doesn’t need to be asked twice. She digs in.

‘How do you know Jane?’ Cathy asks. ‘Oh God, it’s amazing!’

‘She is my cousin.’ The girl chuckles at the appreciative sounds coming from her new friend. ‘I’m Katherine, by the way, since you...was going to say since you’re seeing me at my lowest, but this is not even close to it. Let’s say since we are sharing this lovely moment.’

Cathy blushes slightly as Katherine winks at her. ‘I’m Catherine too. Cathy.’

‘Then you can call me Kat. With a K.’ She eats another spoonful. ‘How do you know Jane?’

‘I used to date her brother.’

‘Sorry.’ Kat gives it a second thought. ‘Wait, which one?’

‘Thomas.’

‘Then I’m really sorry.’

‘Uh?’ Cathy looks at her confused.

‘Sorry that you dated him. He’s an asshole.’ Kat doesn’t hide the grimace as she thinks about him. ‘Must be the name. Never met a good Thomas. Or Henry. Or Francis.’ She scowls at the mere memories of them. ‘Actually. Let’s just say men. I’ll stick with women from now on.’

‘I might take your advice.’ Cathy glances at her furtively. ‘Never had any luck with boys anyway.’

They are just happily chatting as they keep eating the cake when they hear a shutter sound, a chuckle and a ‘What is this?’

‘This is not what it looks like.’ That’s apparently Kat’s go-to opening line.

‘So you’re not eating cake on the floor?’ Jane’s tone is basically daring her cousin to deny the obvious.

‘Yeah, put it on a plate and sit at a table like civil persons.’

‘That's your problem, Anna??’ Jane turns to the other girl, incredulous. ‘That they are sitting on the floor? Not that the cake is on the floor?’

‘To be fair, your floor is probably cleaner than most plates at the refectory.’

Jane stares at her cousin, processing her words. ‘That's not as comforting as you might think.’

‘Oh! Cake!’

Cathy’s heart does not plummet to her stomach as another girl skips in and plops into Kat’s lap unceremoniously. ‘Feed me!’

‘Anne!’ Jane scolds her as Kat wordlessly acquiesces to the demand, already holding a full spoon in front of her face.

‘What?’ Anne mumbles around the spoon. ‘Delicious as always, Janey!’

‘First of all, don’t talk with your mouth full.’ Jane sounds exasperated. ‘Second, don’t call me Janey, you know I hate it.’ From the grin on Anne’s face she does. ‘And third. Why are you acting as if it’s totally normal that Kat is eating food from the floor?!?’

‘We are poor starving students. With no cooking skills. We’re not going to let good food go to waste just because it’s on the floor.’ Kat is nodding from behind her. ‘And your floor is probably cleaner than-’

‘Oh God, you two!’ Jane interrupts her.

‘Two peas in a pod.’ Anna comments, as always amused by their antics.

‘Hell yes!’ Anne raises her hand, palm facing backward, towards Kat, who high-fives her, before eating another spoonful. ‘My turn next!’

‘What part of “I’m going to the kitchen to get a glass of water” meant “I’m going to sit in someone’s lap and eat something from the floor”?’

Kat pops her head out from behind Anne. ‘Hi Lina!’

The new arrival rolls her eyes. ‘Why am I even surprised?’ She mumbles to herself.

‘You know her?’ Cathy, who has been observing in silence until then, asks Kat.

‘Cathy?’ Catalina seems to only then realise there is a third person of the floor. ‘What-’ She shakes her head. ‘You know, I expect it from Anne, we know she has questionable tastes-’

‘Bold words from the girl I’m dating.’

Cathy can’t stop the grin growing on her lips as she looks at Kat trying to suppress her snickers by burying her face into Anne’s back (and maybe – but only maybe – because she is not dating the girl sitting in her lap).

‘Katherine, are you laughing at me?’

From the way Anne can feel her cousin shaking behind her, she’d say yes.

‘No?’ Both Kat and Cathy answer at the same time. They lock eyes and burst out laughing.

Catalina looks at the three girls on the floor. ‘Why do I feel like my life is about to get harder?’ ----

Years down the line everyone would claim the credit for the two of them getting together, or at least for being the one who saw it coming first. Anne insists that she deserves it because had she not convinced Kat to go to Jane’s party, she would not have met Cathy. Catalina claims the same, but for Cathy. So Anne always adds that making Cathy jealous (and does Cathy regret ever sharing that detail with her!) helped Cathy realise that she liked her cousin. Anna reminds them that she was the first who saw them, even took a picture of them on the floor because she knew it was the start of something great.  And Jane...well, it was her party and her cake...does she need to say more?

[takingcourage]

Can I request Simon Montjoy x MC for telling ghost stories? And bonus if I get to see Simon as a father 🥺

Thank you so much for this request, Nonny! Writing Simon as a father was an absolute delight!

This story borrows from Roald Dahl’s The Witches: not a “ghost story,” per se, but one of my favorite scary stories to read as a child. All excerpts are in italics.

_____

They were only an hour in, and Cassidy was already on her third flute of champagne. She sipped from the top of her latest glass, grateful for the fleeting moments when she had the the fizz of bubbles to counter the booming monotone of Viscount Kirkley.

Her grandfather-in-law really did have the most tedious taste in friends.

With a glance toward the opposite end of the room, she saw that Simon was in much the same state. Even from this distance, it was easy for her to see that his eyes had started to look a bit glassy. As he caught her attention, his mouth kinked up in a trademark smirk.

Returning the look with a smile of her own, Cassidy traced a finger over the stem of her glass and tried to give the appearance of being interested in the proceedings. Aside from decorum and the show of solidarity, her real motivation for hosting the evening's festivities was the promise of dancing. It had been too long since she'd had an excuse to dance with her husband.

Behind her, there was a brush of fabric and a quiet titter that sounded very much like an apology. Cassidy turned over her shoulder to find Celeste at her side, one lip caught between her teeth as if steeling herself for something unpleasant.

“I’m sorry to bother you," she sidled close with the whispered interruption. "But if you could join me outside, Ms. Davison would like to speak with you.”

“Of course.” Cassidy followed the other woman through the ballroom and into an adjacent hallway.

Even with a fair amount of alcohol in her system, her blood chilled on reading the distress in Ms. Davison's features. It wasn't the first time the nanny’s face had matched the color of Mitsy's roses, but the florid hue was still a rather unnerving sight to behold.

“I’m so sorry to disturb you, ma'am, but they've disappeared." In spite of her appearance, she managed to keep her tone even. With a deep, resolute breath, she resumed her explanation. "I was only gone for a moment, but I can’t find them anywhere."

“They’re quite good at that,” Simon remarked, sauntering in to round out the little gathering.

“Where were they when you left them?” Cassidy inquired, disposing of her glass on a nearby windowsill.

“The nursery.”

She shared a look with her husband. Even with the size of the estate and its extensive grounds, that could really only mean one thing.

“We’ll find them.” With a slanted brow, Simon downed the rest of his drink and set the glass beside his wife’s.

Following his cue, Cassidy continued, “Why don’t you take the rest of the evening off? We’ll take care of getting them to bed.” No matter what awaited them upstairs, it was preferable to enduring the rest of the night’s speeches. It wasn’t quite the distraction she might have hoped for, but she was hardly going to turn her nose up once it had appeared.

The relief in the nanny’s eyes was immediate. “If you’re sure, ma’am. Violet hasn’t been any trouble; she’s been sleeping since half past. I'd just gone to check on her when the other two ran off."

The news was hardly surprising. Their youngest was still too small to get herself into much trouble unless prompted by the other two. Somewhat unfortunately, the eldest Montjoy siblings were more than capable of producing enough mischief on their own.

"We'll see that the other two are tucked in soon."

She and Simon broke off from the group, finding their way to the staircase with purposeful strides. Now that the initial shock had passed, Cassidy was finding it difficult to keep a handle on the laughter that kept bubbling up in her throat. “This is all your fault," she accused, wagging a finger in the direction of her husband's nose. "You must be regretting your decision to show them those passageways last week.”

“And miss this prime opportunity to teach them a lesson? Absolutely not!” The wink he flashed her couldn’t mean anything good. 

When he wheeled toward the left and away from the nursery on cresting the top of the stairs, she caught his meaning. With a quiet gasp of surprise, Cassidy followed close behind him.

“No doubt they’ve snuck in there to tell ghost stories or some such rot.”

“Like you did when you were their age?”

“I didn’t run away from my nannies in the middle of parties.”

From the corner of her eye, she glimpsed the telltale tilt of his smile. “You’re a terrible liar.”

“Well....” he equivocated, “circumstances were different. Mine knew about the passages and could follow after me if they wished. My disappearances may have been a nuisance, but they were never a hazard to anyone’s health. Did you see the vein in her forehead just now? I hope she goes home for a proper lie-down.”

“We really ought to give the poor woman a raise,” Cassidy considered as they passed into the Blythe Room. "Even with us, those two are quite a handful."

Simon slid an arm behind the headboard, easily locating the release for the passage door. "I wouldn't have them any other way: unspoiled by the world, free to let their imaginations wander wherever they may. They’re rather perfect."

Her heart clenched at the tenderness of his statement. Their children were curious and kind and compassionate, with a mischievous streak just wide enough to keep life full of excitement. It was little wonder their family and all the household staff were so fond of them. 

"...though I shall need to have a chat with them about this particular scheme -- how they thought they'd get away with it, I'll never know."

"Do we have a plan of attack?" She joined him at the entrance in the wall, starting to feel the adrenaline thrum through her extremities.

"We sneak in and scare the dickens out of them," he shared matter of factly. “Does that meet your approval?”

“I can be pretty quiet when I need to be.”

“I know you can, darling.” The flash of heat in his dark eyes sent a thrill across her skin.

She was going to have to get him back for that later. Removing her shoes, Cassidy hooked the thin straps over her fingers and tiptoed into the tunnel after him. Her anticipation rose as the light faded behind them, leaving them in almost total darkness. As they rounded the corner, she could just make out the glow of a torch around the next bend.

“Shhh,” Simon warned needlessly.

With great effort, she managed not to elbow him in the ribs. If he thought she’d be the one to ruin a prank, he was quite mistaken.  

They edged closer, Amelia’s voice growing more articulate with every step. "Don't stop! It's getting to the good part."

"How should you know? You've never read this book before."

"I can tell! My neck is tingling. Feel it!"

“Fine.” There was an indistinguishable grumble before Calvin resumed reading:

“Did you ever see that painting, Grandmamma, with the little girl in it?”

“Many times," my grandmother said. "And the peculiar thing was that little Solveg kept changing her position in the picture --”

From somewhere ahead of them, Amelia gasped at the revelation.

“One day she would actually be inside the farmhouse and you could see her face looking out of the window. Another day she would be far over to the left with a duck in her arms.”

Cassidy predicted Simon’s response even before she heard his measured intake of breath.

"Quack-wack! Quack. Wack-wack!"

The noises weren't terribly convincing, but it didn't matter: a pair of shrieks echoed before they'd even stepped into view. Two small bodies were huddled tightly against the wall, though they jerked apart as soon as their parents appeared. A flashlight rolled aimlessly before coming to stop at Simon’s feet.

"What do we have here?" he asked, retrieved the torch to spotlight each child in turn. Though the shrieking had stopped, they were still working to catch their breaths. Still clinging to the cover of the book, Calvin held his hand to his chest. "A pair of escapologists who think it's clever to scare their nanny to death?"

Amelia's brow plummeted at the accusation. "We didn't mean to frighten her."

"Yeah!" her brother joined in, dropping the book to his side with the force of conviction. "We just wanted to read! Ms. Davison said we couldn't because she thinks it's too scary --"

"--even though you and mama told us we could. It's not fa--"

Simon's level gaze ensured that his daughter’s pouting was short lived.

Heaving a sigh, Amelia dusted off the book cover and replaced the bookmark that she'd been worrying between her fingers. "We'll write a letter to apologize tomorrow morning. Is she still here? We could go and tell her sorry right now."

"We sent her home, but I think she'd be grateful for an apology tomorrow," Cassidy encouraged, wondering how it was possible to move from fear, to frustration, to regret quite so quickly. Amelia rose, coming to meet her with a hug that suggested the depth of her feelings.

"Can we get back to the book then?" their son piped up again. "We can’t stop in the middle of a chapter.”

Simon handed him the light and considered the question, carding a hand through his son’s hair in the meantime. Calvin made a show of shying away from the attention, though the attempt was halfhearted. “If you promise to pen your apologies first thing tomorrow morning.”

“We do!” the children chimed in chorus.

Simon chucked the boy’s chin and took a step toward the nursery. “Then perhaps we should finish the chapter together before we send you off to bed.”

“Really?”

Simon darted back at his daughter’s question. “You know I don’t joke about story time.”

“But the party!” Amelia objected, eyebrows slanting into a perfect facsimile of Simon’s.

“We’ll go back after you’ve gone to bed.”

Satisfied with the answer, she joined her brother in trekking back though the dim hallway.

“Don’t drag your heels now, into your jim-jams!" Simon cast an eye after them before falling back to walk with his wife. With practiced ease, he slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her near. “I rather like this turn of events.”

“We’re as bad as the children, running out on our own party.”

“It’s grandfather’s party.”

“That we’re hosting,” Cassidy reminded, making a mental list of all the ways their sudden disappearance must have violated conventions.

“My grandparents are more than capable of seeing to the guests. Besides, it’s not as if people aren’t used to us being a bit... unconventional now and then.”

As they made it back through the nursery passage, she considered the pronouncement. “I was never one for conventions.” His hold on her hip tightened, and she settled comfortably into his side.

“It’s one of my favorite things about you, darling. Now, let’s get these two miscreants of ours to bed. if we time it right, we’ll be back just in time for dancing.”