#Strange way to announce I got some new paints

[itsswritten]

Naughty little shadows | 9

Pairing: azriel x fem reader

Word count: 9.1K

Warnings: Angst, fighting, an animals bones breaking, IC fallout, 18+ dni if you are underaged, smut, fingering, oral fem receiving -- if I've missed anything please tell me.

Summary: You and Azriel begin to navigate the new complexities of your mating bond, but you quickly realise how dangerous this could become. Is being mated to the Shadowsinger worth your safety?

A/N: I've written a chunky one for you here. You are all very welcome ;) You asked for unhinged Az and you got it, you asked for smut and you got it. Mwah enjoy loves - Lottie

<< Previous Part

In your workshop, the air was thick with the scent of various botanicals and minerals, each carefully selected for their unique properties and hues. On the wooden countertop, there lay an array of ingredients: crushed petals of vibrant flowers, powdered gemstones shimmering with iridescence, and vials filled with rare extracts from mystical plants. You carefully measured and mixed these elements, adding drops of precious oils and resins to create paints that glowed with otherworldly brilliance.

You could do this all day, everyday. 

It was your escapism.

 Adding a touch of magic to paints was the one part of your power you’ve always been able to exercise. It being subtle and non threatening, meant it became a release of some sorts. Creating new paints, and colours that weren’t even on the rainbow brought you so much joy and gave vibrancy to your life. It gave you purpose, something you were grateful for.

Orders had been pouring into the shop since the Travelling Market. Receiving commissions far and wide, meant no day was quiet. You welcomed the work that fuelled your creativity. As you meticulously worked on the final touches of your latest order, Adon's voice broke the concentration, announcing the arrival of a large delivery for Feyre. 

With a light sigh from being pulled out of your work midway, you set aside your brushes and turned to see Adon standing at the door, a sheepish expression on his face as he gestured towards the cart filled with supplies. It was rammed with canvases, an easel, brushes and other tools that you were sure Feyre already had. 

"I need you to deliver these to the House of Wind," he requested, holding out a box of paints that seemed to be part of the order.

Strange.

Feyre always got her things delivered to River house or her studio in the artist quarter. Who were you to question though. She was High Lady, she could paint wherever her heart pleased.

You nod to Adon, "No worries, I'll just finish up this order and be on my way."

You were sure to finish off your latest commission, signing off the delivery to be sent to Autumn court. 

As you wiped your hands, stained with various liquids and powders, on your overalls, you hoisted the box of paints onto your right shoulder, securing your grip on its top. With a playful tilt of your head, you directed your attention to Adon's cart.

"You’re gonna need legs for this one" you quipped with a small smile, gesturing toward the cart.

Understanding your jest, the wooden cart let out a series of groans and creaks as it transformed. Planks of wood shifted and contorted beneath it, forming two wooden long legs that gracefully held up the container of supplies.

Adon’s inventions were always a treasure of yours. You loved every single thing he created. Always finding a solution to a problem in the most unique way. His creations were a little unconventional, an acquired taste– but you loved them all the same. 

Adon and your family had always got along. Inventors, creators, artists; always had a way of finding one another. A grin spread across your face as you watched the magical cart faithfully follow behind you, its load of art supplies in tow.

With the box of paints slung over your shoulder and the magical cart clomping behind you, you quickly winnowed yourself and the cart to the bottom of the stairs of the House of wind. The ascent was long and tiring, the cart creaking behind you with each step as if groaning in agreement. Nonetheless, you pressed on, each step bringing you closer to the top of winding stairs above.

You hadn’t visited the House of Wind before, though you knew it was home to Azriel, Cassian, and Nesta. As you climbed, you couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to see where your mate lived, to catch a glimpse into a part of his life that you hadn't yet experienced.

What did his bedroom look like? How had he chosen to decorate his sanctuary? You imagined him amidst his personal haven, perhaps surrounded by books. You always found him rummaging through your collection whenever he visited you.

Azriel had described the breathtaking view from the House of Wind, mentioning how Velaris looked like a radiant jewel at night from this vantage point. You would love to experience that firsthand with him by your side.

Azriel had frequented your apartment numerous times, often citing the need for privacy away from his family. Yet, a nagging worry lingered in your mind—that perhaps you weren't entirely welcome. You noted the absence of Cassian and Mor since your initial encounter, and you couldn't shake the feeling that you might not be fully embraced within their circle. With this being Cassian’s home too, maybe you weren’t welcome here.

You had been working to mend bridges, taking steps to forge a stronger connection with Azriel’s family. Attending Feyre’s painting classes was your first effort, an easier one as you and Feyre were already friendly acquaintances and had a common passion for art. It was clear though that Feyre appreciated your efforts, especially considering the tension that had surfaced after her sister's outburst at the brunch. She had confided in you that she was worried that it may have caused a rift, but you assured her that was all water under the bridge. You even hoped with time you, Elain and Azriel could all be on better terms.

Feyre had smiled at that when you told her, and she’d made a point one evening when the inner circle had gone out to Ritas to tell Azriel how much she liked you.

You were desperate to see what life he had behind these walls– and of course, everything outside of these walls. You wanted to explore every aspect of Azriel’s life. The recent challenges in your relationship had been daunting, yet you couldn’t deny how much closer it had brought you together.

You were really beginning to feel like a unified pair.

Ten weeks ago, the enigmatic Shadowsinger had been a mere acquaintance, a figure shrouded in mystery. But in this brief span of time, you had already unravelled the layers of one another. Learning, growing and figuring out how to trust.

And you wanted more of it. 

You hadn’t accepted the bond yet, in fact neither of you had even discussed that. But one thing was becoming clear, you wanted Azriel in your life. The desire to intertwine your destinies grew stronger with each passing moment. Whether that be spent in your apartment, exploring the depths of your power together, or the late-night walks down the winding Sidra, hand in hand. When he surprises you with your favourite pastries to coax you away from your work or those tender moments when your lips meet his that give you a sense of completeness. 

You wanted it all and more.

You just needed to let him know.

As you reached the top of the stairs, you were met with the imposing sight of the grand doors of the House of Wind. Crafted from rich, dark wood and adorned with intricate carvings depicting scenes of the mountains beyond the court, the doors stood tall and powerful.

Hesitating for a moment, you stole a glance at the magical cart, which creaked awkwardly on its newly formed legs. With a slight chuckle, you steadied yourself and approached the doors. Raising your hand, you rapped your knuckles against the sturdy wood, the sound echoing through the house.

As the grand doors swung open at your gentle knock, you called out for Feyre, but the only response was the hollow echo of your voice reverberating through the vast space. Undeterred, you stepped inside, the sound of your footsteps echoing on the stone floor as the creaking cart followed closely behind.

"Hello, anyone here? I've got a delivery," you called out again, your voice carrying through the silence of the empty halls. 

How peculiar. 

No one seemed to be around.

As you ventured further into the house, you couldn't help but marvel at its grandeur, realising just how humble the River House seemed in comparison. And River House was not humble by any means. It really highlighted the multitude of wealth they had, wealth they deserved, of course. It was their court, after all. But still, it was a stark difference to the tiny apartment you rented, which, at times, felt too small for both you and Azriel when he visited.

Each room you passed seemed to exude luxury and elegance, from the richly decorated walls adorned with exquisite paintings to the lavish furnishings.

It was all beautiful. But you preferred your cosy apartment– with it’s crooked walls and low ceilings. 

Entering a spacious room with an open door, you noticed a few canvases leaning against the wall, indicating that this might be another one of Feyre's studios – or at least you hoped so. You had called out numerous times, even calling out for Azriel and his shadows in case he was around. You didn’t want to appear snooping, but with no one to greet you, you really needed to get back to your workshop.

Placing the box of paints in the centre of the room, you turned to address the magical cart, which had faithfully followed you every step of the way. Its wooden form creaked softly as it shifted.

"I guess we'll just leave them here for her," you said, turning your attention back to the cart, ready to start unloading its contents. But before you could even begin, the cart suddenly jumped, startling you.

"What in the cauldron!” You exclaimed with a fright, you knew Adon’s inventions could be quirky, but this behaviour was odd– even for him. “What is wrong with you?" you asked, frustration creeping into your voice as you tried to make sense of the cart's erratic behaviour.

Stepping closer to the cart again to try and pry a tool out, it quickly creaked towards the open door, its wooden legs trembling slightly as if hesitant to comply with your command.

As it reached the doorway, it turned to you as if giving you one last glance before quickly running out. The doors slammed shut with a resounding thud, leaving you trapped inside.

You felt the energy of the room shift, the goosebumps rising under your skin. Clutching your arms, you rolled lightly on your feet, trying to dispel the growing unease.

"Feyre... was that you?" You nervously called out with a light laugh, attempting to lighten the tension that had settled in the air. 

Perhaps she was playing a trick on you?

Maybe. But something didn’t feel right, that feeling– that instinct was telling you to leave. Before your feet could carry you towards the shut door a familiar voice broke.

"I'm afraid my beautiful mate isn't here right now," the voice said, sending a shiver down your spine as you recognised it instantly.

You turned slowly towards the voice. "Oh... hello, Rhys," you managed to say, trying to sound casual despite the knot of anxiety tightening in your chest. "I'm just here to deliver an order... but I'm really sorry, half of it has just run off," you added with a nervous chuckle, gesturing over your shoulder to where the magical cart had disappeared.

As Rhys stepped out from the corner where he had seemingly been concealed by glamour, you couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. Glancing back at the closed door, your nerves spiked even further when you saw Amren standing there, her expression unreadable.

Your instincts screamed at you that this encounter was anything but ordinary. It wasn’t Feyre who had asked you to deliver, you realised, an unsettling feeling sinking in your gut. For a moment, you felt like a deer trapped between her prey.

They had lured you here.

The uncertainty gnawed at you, and you found yourself tensing, trying to keep your composure as Rhys and Amren closed in on you. Facing your High Lord, you attuned your senses to Amren, who stood by the door behind you. 

She was blocking it, guarding it, to stop you from leaving.

“I better go retrieve the rest of Feyre’s order,” you smiled lightly, testing where you stood in this. Rhys only half-smiled in return. Amren hadn’t moved from her spot, and you knew there was no way you were getting past her.

“You know, I never would have known. All these years, your family has slipped through the cracks,” Rhys said, walking now, slowly circling you. 

Not entirely true.

Just like Azriel, it was clear Rhys was completely unaware how his own father had used your father in the war.

“Your family did a great job hiding themselves for all these years. Gods, I didn’t even know your kind existed,” he chuckled darkly, his imposing presence exuding an authority you hadn't experienced when you met him among his family and with Azriel prior.

You didn’t reply, only glanced slightly over your shoulder to Amren. She stood stiff, her expression still the same.

“If you had chosen anything other than a spider... well, I wouldn’t have known anything was amiss.” Rhys continued. “What an incy, wincy mistake.” he chided, and you felt your jaw clench at his slight mocking tone.

“You see, around 300 years ago, I put up a ward on River House. For Mor. She hates spiders, detests the creatures, and would beg me to eliminate them from the Night Court altogether. For her birthday one year, I granted her the gift of a particular ward that doesn’t allow them in any of our homes. River House, her apartment, here…” he trailed off, lifting his hands in the air gesturing to the house you were now standing in.

You'd made a grave mistake. The innocent creation of that little spider, once a mere impulsive act, now weighed heavily as regret seeped in. The consequences of that fleeting decision were far greater than you had anticipated. It wasn't necessary; it was merely a childish impulse, a fleeting desire to provoke a reaction from Elain. Yet, that seemingly innocuous choice had now jeopardised everything you held dear. 

The walls you had painstakingly built to protect yourself and the promise you had made to your father were crumbling before your eyes.

"Of course, this isn't widely known, so only Mor and I would have been aware of any intrusions in my home. And well when trying to figure out why this creature was in my home I realised the only new variable in the equation was you" Rhysand explained, his tone laced with a darkness that unnerved you.

“Rhysand…your High Lord, you’ve got this all wrong…” you interjected, stumbling over your words as you desperately tried to change the narrative. Deep down though, you knew that it was too late.

“I wouldn’t have known what you were, but luckily, lovely Amren here clocked onto something too.”

“Your blood,” she spoke flatly, as you recalled the nosebleed that had come after creating your first creation from your mind’s eye. “My senses aren’t as particular as they were before, but when I smelt your blood, I recognised something ancient.”

“You’ve got it all wrong…” you countered, hoping to stall for time while you formulated a plan.

“Oh I don’t believe we do.” Rhys declared. He stood a metre in front of you now, his stature intimidating, and you desperately fought against stepping back. You needed to hold your own, but you were feeling out of your depth. 

Scared, ambushed and outnumbered.

"Your bloodline is rare," Amren remarked, her voice carrying a hint of intrigue. "And your kind are secretive. I never thought I'd meet one of you in my lifetime."

You remained silent, watching their every move.

But Amren's flat tone cut through the air like a blade. "I believe you're a Glyphic. Or more commonly known, a Veilweaver," she stated matter-of-factly, sending shivers down your spine at the names you hadn't heard yourself be called in centuries.

Rhysand, however, was less intrigued. "You've been living in my court undetected," he accused, his voice laced with irritation. "Deception is not something I take lightly."

Was it the deceit that troubled him more, or the realisation that your powers were beyond his ability to detect?

"I've never caused any problems..." you began, your words faltering as you tried to mount a defence.

"Yet," Rhys interjected sharply, cutting off your protest. His gaze bore into you with an intensity that made you squirm. "Veilweavers are powerful and dangerous," Rhys continued, his tone unwavering. "And I need to ensure you're not a threat to my court—or my brother."

As Rhysand advanced, his talons reached out, probing against your mental defences in an attempt to breach your mind. With every ounce of strength you possessed, you pushed back, feeling the strain of the effort as you fought to keep him out.

They didn't suspect that Azriel knew your secret, a realisation that weighed heavily upon you. What would they do if they discovered he had kept this from them? Azriel, the Spymaster of the Night Court, had always prioritised his court and family above all else. But now, for the first time, there was someone he would choose to protect above all others.

You.

You couldn't allow Rhysand to breach your mind.

Rhys lunged forward, his mental talons clawing at the barriers of your mind, seeking to break your defences. In a moment of desperation and self-preservation, you called forth a creature to defend yourself. 

You reached into the depths of your mind to summon your power, a surge of energy rippled through your being, tingling at your fingertips like electric currents dancing along your skin. In your mind's eye, you saw flashes of vivid imagery, intricate patterns swirling and shifting with ethereal grace. It was as if you were tapping into a hidden realm, a reservoir of ancient magic waiting to be unleashed.

Yet, beneath the awe-inspiring beauty, there was a subtle undercurrent of unease, a whisper of uncertainty that gnawed at the edges of your consciousness. You were standing against your High Lord–your mates brother. 

You had to protect yourself though. Protect your mind, and the secret Azriel had kept from his High Lord.  

In this moment, as you conjured forth your guardian, you pushed aside those doubts. The black sleek panther materialised with a fluid grace, its form exuding strength and determination, a sentinel ready to defend you against any threat.

The air crackled with tension as Rhysand and Amren exchanged a knowing glance, their previous suspicions confirmed by the display of your power. Their expressions shifted, morphing into a mixture of wariness as they assessed the situation before them.

Amren couldn't conceal the faint smirk that tugged at the corners of her lips as she regarded you and the magnificent creature you had summoned. You were exactly what she had suspected, a Glyphic with untapped potential and formidable abilities.

With a menacing growl, your panther confronted Rhysand, causing him to momentarily retract his mental talons. However, his resolve remained steadfast.

"Rhys, please. Can we talk this out?" You pleaded, desperation lacing your words as you locked eyes with him, searching for any glimmer of understanding or mercy. Your heart raced with fear and uncertainty. You didn't want to fight them, didn't want to inflict harm, nor be harmed in return. But above all, you were determined to protect the sanctity of your mind, a territory that was yours alone– and of course protect Azriel.

For a fleeting moment, it seemed as though Rhys's steely gaze softened, a hint of the warmth you had glimpsed in him during your encounters at River House. But just as quickly, it vanished, replaced by an impenetrable mask.

There was no Rhys here, no. Only the Lord of the Night.

Your hands trembled at your sides, the strain of maintaining your creation evident in every tense muscle of your body. Beads of sweat trickled down your temple, mirroring the intensity of your concentration as you fought to keep your panther strong and fighting. Despite the chaos and danger surrounding you, there was a strange beauty in the powerful presence of your manifestation. If circumstances were different, you might have felt a swell of pride at what you had achieved.

Azriel would be proud too.

Azriel, your mate. Your beautiful mate.

Who you didn’t deserve. 

All you could feel was guilt and despair. The troubles and problems you had brought him, he deserved someone better. Someone like Elain.

Rhys was watching over you. Your heavy breaths, your clenched fists and scared gaze. As much as Rhys may have wanted to extend you the benefit of the doubt, the stakes were too high, the risks too great.

He couldn’t trust your word, he had to know for himself.

Rhysand made another attempt to breach your mind, his talons digging deep in a relentless pursuit. In response, your panther sprang into action, launching itself at Rhysand with a primal ferocity. Yet, before it could reach its target, Rhysand unleashed a surge of magic, sending the panther hurtling across the room with a powerful force.

You shouldn't have been surprised; after all, it was only the second time you had conjured a creature from your mind's eye. Inexperienced in the art of combat, you had never faced such a dire situation before. You were no match for them.

But a small part of you had hoped that maybe your fathers strength was somewhere lingering within you. Just waiting to be unleashed.

You were wrong.

As Rhysand's magic collided with your manifestation, the impact reverberated through your own body like a physical blow. There was a sickening snap as your panther was hurled against the wall, its body twisting unnaturally upon impact. The sound of bone breaking echoed in your ears, and you couldn't suppress a strangled scream as searing pain lanced through your own being.

Tears welled in your eyes as you collapsed to the ground, the pain radiating from your body in pulsating waves. Every breath felt like a struggle, each heartbeat a reminder of the bond you shared with the creature now lying broken before you. The panther's breaths synced with yours, while you tried to muster your strength to get it back on its feet.

You recalled the memories of your father's teachings. He had always been your guiding light, imparting his wisdom and cautioning you about the dangers of your power. But after that fateful night, when the darkness had consumed you as a child and birthed a beast of anger, he had grown distant with his knowledge, shielding you from the full extent of your abilities.

That night you created the beast, your father had intervened, severing the connection between you and the creature with a pain that echoed through your very being. It was a harsh lesson, one that left scars emotionally.

In the aftermath, he had spoken of a way to disconnect yourself from your creations' pain, a method that required time and dedication to master. Something you had actively avoided doing because of his promise, you’re not sure if he ever realised how detrimental that promise would end up being for you. 

Your creations were an extension of your own power, their pain intertwined with yours in a delicate dance of symbiosis. Without mastering this crucial aspect of your abilities, you would forever be shackled by the limitations of your own creations.

There was no way to sever yourself from this agony, and you lacked the strength to mend and revive your creation. Your only choice was to sever the bond, and as you did, the magnificent panther dissolved into the air, fading away along with the pain of it’s demise.

"Rhys…" Amren hissed, her hand outstretched in a futile attempt to halt him as she observed how effortlessly Rhys had subdued the formidable beast. They had misjudged the situation entirely. Expecting a powerful force, they were instead faced with you– a broken female, unable to rise to her feet. 

Rhys's expression faltered, his resolve wavering momentarily as he hesitated to approach. But before he could make a move, the room was engulfed in shadow, familiar tendrils enveloping your body and vision. You recognised the cool touch of the shadows attempting to draw you into their embrace.

A tear slipped down your face and you shivered under their whispered kisses. You felt your own shadow curl up by your face to comfort you.

Through the shroud of darkness, Azriel had burst into the room, his presence commanding and protective. With a forceful shove, he knocked Amren off balance and launched himself at Rhysand, the two of them colliding with a resounding crash as they tumbled into the wall in a rough and chaotic struggle.

"I’m going to kill you, Rhys!" Azriel's voice thundered with fury, a darkness in his hazel eyes Rhys had never experienced before.

Taken aback by Azriel's sudden aggression, Rhysand attempted to interject with an explanation, but Azriel silenced him with a swift, powerful punch that connected squarely with his jaw. Rhys staggered backward, his hand flying to his face as he recoiled from the blow.

Azriel surged forward with unparalleled strength, his muscles coiled with the raw intensity of his fury. With a swift motion, he seized his brother by the throat, their bodies rocketing upwards until they collided with the ceiling in a deafening crash. The ancient stone quivered under the force of their impact, dislodging dust and debris.

Rhysand fought against Azriel's grasp, his attempts to explain drowned out by the primal rage burning in his brother's eyes. At that moment, Azriel wanted nothing but retribution.

He wanted blood.

He had felt your panic echoing through the bond, a visceral tug that had torn him away from his duties in the Illyrian camps.

As soon as the sensation had washed over him, he knew something was wrong. His instincts honed in on your distress, guiding him unerringly toward the House of Wind. With Cassian at his side, he had winnowed as close as possible before bursting into the house.

It was the sound of your scream that had pierced through him. Physically and mentally sending a wave of fear through him, turning his blood cold as he raced towards you.

Blood was drawn as shards of stone lacerated the brothers skin, leaving trails of crimson in their wake. Azriel's shadows danced around them, swirling with unrestrained fury as he fought his High Lord.

With a primal roar, Azriel seized Rhysand by the shoulders, his wings beating with a furious rhythm as he drove them both downward. They plummeted toward the unforgiving stone floor, their descent hastened by the force of Azriel's relentless assault.

Rhysand had endured Azriel's onslaught, absorbing blow after blow with a heavy heart. Rhys had refused to retaliate. He couldn't bring himself to harm his own brother, even in the midst of their heated conflict.

Yet, as Azriel's relentless assault continued, Rhysand knew he had to act. With a surge, he summoned his magic, channelling it into a devastating blast that sent Azriel staggering backward.

"I thought she could have been a threat to our court," Rhys began, his voice strained with the weight of his words. He wanted Azriel to understand, to see the danger he believed you posed.

But before he could elaborate further, Cassian burst into the fray, positioning himself between the warring brothers like a stalwart shield. He could see the venom dripping from Azriel's eyes, the sheer intensity of his rage.

"She is not a threat," Azriel spat, his words dripping with conviction.

Rhys opened his mouth to respond, to plead his case once more, but then it clicked. As the realisation dawned on him, it echoed through the chamber like a thunderous revelation. Cassian's expression mirrored his own.

Betrayal.

"You already knew..." Rhys's voice wavered, the sting of betrayal lacing every syllable. His brother had been keeping your secret all along, hiding the truth from him and from his court.

“Of course I knew, brother,” Azriel almost laughed, his tone tinged with a mix of frustration and resignation. “She is my mate.”

“You should have told us,” Rhys growled, his anger simmering beneath the surface. Cassian shot him a warning look, silently urging him to remain calm.

Regardless of what Azriel had withheld, Rhys had caused harm to Azriel’s mate– you. Someone who by the looks of it was completely helpless against him.

“My duty as spymaster is to protect the court. Keeping this from you, doesn't change that,” Azriel growled, his stance unwavering.

As tensions escalated, Rhys and Azriel found themselves locked in a heated exchange. Cassian intervened, pushing them apart before things could escalate further. “You will not fight over this,” Cassian hissed, his voice firm and commanding.

Meanwhile, Amren shook her head in disbelief, a dawning realisation settling over her features. "She is a danger, though," Amren spoke up, her words carrying an unexpected truth. "She's weak," she concluded bluntly, her tone leaving no room for argument.

You flinched at the assessment, feeling a pang of insecurity at the criticism. 

Since disolving your creation, the pain had largely subsided, but a dull ache lingered in your head, and your body felt weary and drained. Amren's words rang true. You felt weak, you were weak. Centuries had passed without honing your ability. You were nothing like your ancestors or your father. You weren’t a force to be reckoned with. 

"If a Daemati broke into her mind, took hold of her powers, gods know the chaos that would ensue," Rhysand understood instantly by what Amren warned, his tone grave.

You mulled over their words, the weight of their implications sinking in. Your years of hiding your abilities had left you unprepared and vulnerable, a potential threat to those around you. You had always feared your powers, but now it seemed that your lack of control made you vulnerable to manipulation and exploitation.

Your father had wanted you to lay low, so you wouldn’t be found.But you were now left too weak to defend yourself if someone did want to exploit you.

"Don't think for a second that as soon as others find out she's your mate, that she won't instantly have a target on her back," Rhysand continued grimly. "And if the wrong person realises what she is..."

"We're doomed," Amren finished, her expression grave as she contemplated the dire consequences of your revelation.

As Amren's words sink in, snapping Azriel out of his murderous gaze directed at Rhys, to contemplate what she had just revealed to him.

An oversight on his part. But what Amren had said was true. 

The tension in the room eased slightly, and you feel the shadows enveloping you, aiding you as you rise to your feet. They offer silent support, keeping you steady.

For the first time since entering the room, Azriel's gaze shifts from his brothers to you. His eyes, usually so intense and focused, soften as he takes in your scared and bewildered expression. Without hesitation, he moves away from Rhysand and Cassian, striding purposefully toward you.

As Azriel reaches you, he pulls you into a protective embrace, his wings wrapping around you like a shield. You lean into his comforting presence, feeling the tension drain from your body as his warmth surrounds you. His lips press gently against the top of your head.

In that moment, everything else fades away, leaving only you and Azriel locked in an embrace.

"Where are you hurt?" His voice is soft and gentle, filled with genuine concern. You shake your head, unable to find the words to express the whirlwind of emotions raging inside you. The physical pain may have subsided with the disappearance of your panther, but the emotional turmoil still lingered.

You felt the tears slowly start to roll down your face, and soft cry finally leaving your lips now in the safety of Azriel.

Azriel pulls back slightly, his hands cupping your face "It's okay my love" he whispers, his voice a soothing balm to your frazzled nerves. "I've got you."

At his reassurance, you lean into Azriel's chest, trying to stifle the cry that wells up inside you. Fear and worry wash over you as you recall the events that led to this moment.

Cassian watches with concern as Azriel comforts you, exchanging a bewildered glance with Rhys, silently questioning how things escalated to this point. Amren's expression remains stoic, but a hint of guilt flickers in her eyes, easily missed if one didn't know where to look.

"I didn't mean for things to escalate this way. We thought... I got it wrong," Rhys spoke, his voice laced with regret as he attempted to bridge the growing chasm between him and his brother.

Azriel's snarl cut through the air, his eyes narrowing with barely contained fury at Rhys's attempts to explain away his actions.

"I want them out," Azriel declared, his tone firm as he turned to Cassian, seeking support in his decision.

Though it was Cassian and Nesta's home, technically no one could demand the High Lord to leave anywhere in his court. Cassian glanced between Rhys and Amren, considering the situation carefully.

"I think it's best you leave for now," Cassian finally agreed, his voice steady as he made the difficult decision to ask Rhys and Amren to depart, at least temporarily, in order to diffuse the tension.

Rhys, though visibly disappointed, nods in acquiescence, understanding the need to de-escalate the situation. Amren's expression remains inscrutable, but she follows Rhys's lead without protest.

As they turn to leave, Rhys casts a lingering glance in your direction, his eyes conveying a mixture of apology and concern. Azriel, still holding you protectively in his arms, watches them go with a steely resolve, his jaw clenched.

Once Rhys and Amren depart, Cassian releases a heavy sigh, the tension in the room easing slightly. He shifts his gaze to you and Azriel, his expression softening with concern.

"Is there anything I can do Az?" he asks, genuine worry etched into his features. Azriel shakes his head, there was nothing Cassian could do to change what had occurred, to fix the damage between Azriel and Rhys. Nothing.

The only thing Azriel knew he could do was make you feel better. So that was his priority.

~~~

As Azriel guides you through the labyrinth of corridors of the House of Wind, the shadows cling to you protectively, reluctant to release their hold as if fearing they may never reunite with you. Eventually, you reach a door that yields effortlessly to Azriel's touch, unveiling a room bathed in gentle, muted light.

The space is expansive yet cosy, its walls cloaked in opulent hues of midnight blue and charcoal grey. The air carries a subtle fragrance of sandalwood and cedar, a scent uniquely Azriel's. Its familiar aroma envelops you, instantly calming your senses.

Against one wall looms a colossal four-poster bed, its imposing ebony frame swathed in cascading layers of sumptuous silk and velvet. The sheer size of it dwarfs your own bed by comparison, a necessity to accommodate those expansive Illyrian wings. Azriel must have been so uncomfortable staying at yours all those nights.

In one corner of the room, a large desk sits bathed in moonlight, its surface cluttered with scrolls, books, and various trinkets. A dimly glowing orb hovers above it, casting a soft glow over the room and illuminating Azriel's meticulous handwriting scrawled across the parchment.

Above his desk, shelves displayed an eclectic assortment of trinkets: a meticulously carved wooden box adorned with intricate designs, an assortment of books—some familiar to you, yet seemingly untouched, while others appeared brand new. 

In one corner, four small jars of paint caught your attention. Your paints. You hadn't realised he had obtained them, and a furrow formed between your brows as you pondered when he might have acquired them. Shadow Serenade, Velvet Veil, Starry Whispers, Nightfall Cries. These were the shades you had created in that first week after the bond had snapped. You remembered how thoughts of the Shadowsigner had consumed you to a point of it channelling out into your work. Each jar held a hue evocative of the Spymaster himself. He of course knew about Shadow Serenade, but how he had come to acquire the other shades you weren’t so sure. 

You pondered if perhaps you had a secret customer in him. The paints shimmered within their glass containers, casting ethereal light across the room.

On the opposite side, a cosy seating area beckons with plush armchairs and a low, velvet-covered chaise lounge. A small fireplace crackles softly in the corner, casting flickering shadows across the room and adding to the room's warm ambiance.

“The bath is ready for you” Azriel spoke, breaking you away from your lingering glances across his room and belongings. “I thought a hot bath would make you feel better” He continued, gently guiding you into his wash room.

A large ornate tub sat in the centre of the room, steam rising from the water nearly to the brim. You noticed the unique shape of the tub, clearly designed to accommodate Azriel's massive wings. 

For a fleeting moment, you imagined what it would be like to share this space with Azriel. 

Bathe with him.

As if reading your mind, your own little shadow curled round your ear.

Ask him to join you.

You instantly blushed at the notion, wafting away the naughty little creation, as you hoped Azriel or his own shadows hadn’t heard.

You swore you heard it giggle before it resumed its quiet chanting of praises towards your mate. But Azriel remained unchanged, his face still etched with concern, his priority seemingly you and your well-being.

"Clothes for you to change into are here," he continued, gesturing towards a set of garments. "I'll be just outside."

Azriel paused, allowing you a moment to take in your surroundings. Your gaze settled on the clothes neatly laid out, an arrangement you assumed was the work of his shadows, before you gave him a small nod of acknowledgment. As he left, closing the door to the washroom behind him, you took a moment to study yourself in the mirror. The reflection revealed tear-stained cheeks and a wearied expression.

Gods, you looked a mess. No wonder Azriel had suggested a wash.

Despite being the one involved in the altercation, he only had a few scratches and dust on his clothing, he still looked as beautiful as ever—strong and defiant. You, on the other hand, looked quite the opposite. As you peeled off your overalls, the fabric clinging to your skin with a thin layer of sweat accumulated during the exertion of your abilities.

You hadn't realised how much you needed a hot bath, but it turned out to be the perfect remedy to wash away the anxieties of what had happened earlier. Sinking your whole body into the warm water, with just enough to keep your nose above the surface, you allowed the hot water to soothe the aches of your body.

You’re not sure how long you stayed there, but regardless of the duration, the water didn’t cool. It was hot and toasty– thanks to the house’s magic you assumed. 

Once you were dry, you slipped into the clothes left on the side for you. It wasn’t until you were halfway through pulling the shirt over your head that you realised it must have belonged to Azriel. The size and the two slits down the back panels designed to accommodate his wings were dead giveaways. The faint scent of his laundry detergent lingered, a comforting familiarity that enveloped you as you dressed. 

Tugging on the loose jersey pants and cinching the drawstring around your waist, another of Azriel’s clothing you assumed. Although you’d never seen him wear something so casual before, and it made you want to see this part of him even more.The thought of a more relaxed Azriel, lounging around his bedroom in sweats with a book in hand, intrigued you. It made you hungry for a version of him you hadn’t experienced yet.

You returned to the bedroom, a sense of calm now settled after your bath. As you moved into the armchair by the fireplace, Azriel approaches with a tray of food in hand. His expression is determined, yet there's a tenderness in his eyes that speaks volumes.

"I want you to eat," he says firmly, his voice tinged with concern. You hesitate, glancing at the tray of food he’s arranged. A hot bowl of soup, with slices of fresh warm bread on the side.

 It smelt delicious.

Plates with slices of cheeses and meats with grapes, and other sliced fruits adorned the tray. It looked delightful, but you weren’t really sure you had an appetite after everything that had happened.

"I don't think I'm hungry," you murmur softly, your gaze dropping to the floor.

"Don't make me force-feed you," Azriel responds, his tone gentle yet firm. Your brows raised slightly at his statement, and he sighed with a soft smile “I’m driving myself crazy here, I just need to know you’re okay. I’ll feel better when I know you’ve eaten something. What you went through…was intense” he admitted, his protective instincts clearly in overdrive.

You nod slowly, understanding his concern, and reluctantly take the plate from the tray. Despite your lack of appetite, you decide that a few spoonfuls of soup won’t hurt. And if it can ease your mate's worry, then you’d do it for him.

Balancing the tray on your lap, you scoop up a spoonful of soup and bring it to your lips. The flavours dance on your tongue, surprisingly rich and satisfying. Despite not feeling hungry just moments ago, the warm, wholesome meal feels comforting and perks your appetite.

Across from you, Azriel settles into his armchair, his gaze unwavering. As you finish the last spoonful of soup and dip a piece of bread into the bowl, a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips, relief evident in his eyes.

You set the tray back on the low coffee table in front of you, popping a grape into your mouth before finally glancing up at your mate. You hoped to see satisfaction in his expression, a sense of relief that you had nourished yourself enough. However, when you met his gaze, a sadness lurked in his eyes, tugging at your heartstrings.

"I was so scared," he confesses suddenly, his voice barely above a whisper. "When I felt your fear through the bond, and then when I heard you scream... I thought I was going to lose you."

His words hung heavy in the air, and your expression dropped as you swiftly moved to comfort your mate. Seeking solace in each other, he drew you closer, pulling you onto his lap with a tender embrace. As he buried his face into the side of your neck, you whispered softly, your voice filled with gratitude, "I would have felt the same if it was you." Your breath caught as you expressed the depth of your emotions. The mere thought of Azriel being hurt, of him being in danger, stirred a visceral reaction within you, a gut-wrenching turmoil. 

The bond that tethered you both together was profound and all-encompassing. You understood, with unwavering certainty, that you would do anything for this male. You would protect him, even at the cost of your own life.

Just as he had threatened Rhys. You would kill for Azriel. And you would also die for him.

Azriel's gaze softened as he looked at you, his scarred hand cupping your cheek gently, his thumb tracing soothing circles.

“Thank you” you whispered “For coming for me.”

“Always” He said deeply, your forehead resting against his as you straddled him.

Your lips naturally found their place on his. A kiss quickly deepened at the raw magnitude of what had happened today. The fear Azriel had experienced, the dread of losing you, had gripped him with a relentless force. He never wanted to face that possibility.

Despite the truth in Amren's words, acknowledging your vulnerabilities and limitations, at this moment, all Azriel desired was to cherish what he feared he might have lost.

There was an unspoken understanding, a silent exchange echoing down the bond, as you felt Azriel's desperation and the depth of his fear. You longed to assuage his anxiety, to offer him solace and reassurance.

Pulling back slightly from the kiss, your breaths mingling in the quiet intimacy of the moment, Azriel regarded you with darkened hazel eyes, silently anticipating your next move. A familiar look passed between you, one laden with unspoken desire that had lingered unexplored until now. With a gentle touch, you took his hand and guided him to his bed, wordlessly conveying your intentions as you led him to his plush sheets.

Azriel bit back a low guttural growl, watching as you climbed onto his bed.

You lay on his bed, draped on his sheets, wearing his clothes. It was an image he wanted to etch into his memory forever.

“There’s never been any pressure, no expectations,” he whispered, standing at the side as if seeking reassurance of your intentions.

No expectations.

He had promised you that after the bond snapped, and he had stayed true to his word. Always the gentleman, never pressuring you. Always moving at your pace.

“I know Azriel” you breathed, in a way that spoke of permission.

Azriel took a breath, steadying himself as he comprehended the significance of your invitation before climbing over you. He hovered over you, settling his weight above, his presence reassuring and protective. Your head sank into the plush pillows beneath, and he moved over you with a predatory grace.

“I was so worried I was going to lose you today…” he breathed. Your hand had come to caress the side of his neck, pulling his face closer to you.

 “There was a moment I realised too that if I lost you today…” You were watching him, as his desire filled eyes turned darker “I would have lost you without ever having the chance to taste you”

His confession sent a shiver down your spine, goosebumps covering your body under his clothes you were wearing. Your nipples perked at his words, rubbing against the fabric.

“Then thank the cauldron you didn’t lose me…” You breathed playfully back, your face hot at his words. He let out a low laugh.

“Thank the cauldron indeed” He purred, leaning in to press his lips against yours. His lips slowly move down your neck, leaving flushed kisses on your skin. His fingers tugged at his shirt on you, hastily unbuttoning the black material till your breasts were exposed to him.

You thought you saw him almost choke on his breath at the sight.

His hazel eyes lighting with glint you hadn’t seen before.

“You are beautiful my love” he breathed, his voice husky with desire. The sound of his words made your heart race, the intensity of his gaze causing a surge of heat to pool in your core.

Azriel's lips trailed down from your neck, leaving a path of fire in their wake. As he reached your exposed breasts, he hesitated for a moment, his eyes locking with yours, seeking permission. The air crackled with anticipation as you nodded, giving him silent consent.

His touch was gentle yet possessive as he cupped your breast in his scarred large hand, his thumb grazing over your nipple. A soft gasp escaped your lips at the sensation, and Azriel's eyes darkened with desire. Leaning down, he placed a heated kiss on each of your peaks, his tongue flicking out to tease before sucking gently.

You bit your lip lightly, to try and compose any sound that dared leave your lips.

“Don’t be shy my love, I want to hear you” Azriel smirked slightly, as he watched your lips then part with his words. A breathy moan escaping your lips.

Azriel could feel his own heat rush to his member, it was hard and pressing tightly against his trousers, but he continued on. Trailing kisses lower down your body, his breath hot against your skin. Each touch sent sparks of pleasure coursing through you, igniting a hunger that had been simmering between you both.

You’re not sure how you had resisted for so long. You had felt the desire mounting with every kiss you had shared before, and now you hated yourself a little for depriving yourself of this.

You could feel his rough fingers tugging at the drawband of your pants, slowly pulling them down over your hip bone. He looked at you one last time before completely removing them, leaving you completely exposed to him.

Lying exposed beneath him, you could feel his eyes devouring every inch of your naked body. He was mesmerised by every crevice, curve, freckle, and scar that marked your skin. Grateful to have you, he couldn't help but touch and explore you - his mate, completely and utterly his.

His gaze lingered over your slick folds, glistening with a wetness that was just for him. The scent of you drove him wild, though he had only experienced it a few times before during those intimate moments that always finished too early. It took all of his self-control not to ravish you then and there.

But now, he could. You had given yourself to him in this way, completely and utterly his. His hazel eyes lingered for another moment, a softness in his gaze as he admired your flushed face. Hair sprawled beneath your head.

You had a coy look in your eyes, being so vulnerable and open in front of him. Azriel was grateful you trusted him enough for this, he was going to cherish every moment.

His fingers traced the curve of your hip, you arched your back, inviting him closer. A low growl rumbled in his chest as his gaze locked with yours, promising that this was just the beginning. With a predatory grace, he leaned down and placed a soft, warm kiss on your inner thigh. 

You shivered at the contact, your breath hitching as his lips continued to travel lower, leaving a trail of warmth and desire in their wake.

His fingers danced over your flesh, tracing the delicate lines of your thighs, his touch feather-light as he explored every inch. Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat echoing loudly that at one point you felt as though that was all you could hear.

You were sure he could sense your arousal through the bond, and you almost sent a begging plea down the thread for him to touch you.

With a playful glint in his eyes, as if understanding, his lips finally reached their destination, your core. You felt a wave of intensity wash over you. You bit your lip, trying to suppress a moan that quickly left your lips, as his tongue danced across your sensitive flesh. His hands gripped your thighs, spreading you open, allowing him complete access.

Azriel's tongue dipped into you, savouring the taste of you, his eyes never leaving yours. You arched your back, your nails digging into the pillow beneath you as his tongue probed deeper, coaxing a soft cry from your lips.

Azriel wanted to hear that cry more. Every day, at any moment he could get. He wanted to hear those sounds leave your lips. A sound he would never tire of.

The pleasure built, a fierce storm of emotion that threatened to consume you whole. Your heart pounded wildly, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps as his tongue stroked and teased.

He plunged his fingers inside you, filling you completely. The intensity of the sensation was overwhelming, causing you to cry out his name.

“Azriel…oh Az…”

When he heard his name leave your lips he had to stop himself from cumming at the sound. He was completely drunk on the taste and smell of you, that the sound of you almost sent him over the edge.

Azriel's fingers moved in and out of you, in a rhythm that was both possessive and tender. His thumb brushed against your most sensitive spot, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your entire body. He was coaxing you to climax, and you could feel the tension building inside you, like a coiled spring about to release.

Your body responded to his touch, the muscles of your core clenching and releasing around his fingers. Your fingers were tangled in his dark hair, flexing and pulling with every clench of your core. Your breaths grew shallower. You could feel the orgasm building, a powerful wave crashing towards you, threatening to consume you whole.

And then, just as you thought you couldn't take any more, he withdrew his fingers and began to lap at your core, his tongue darting and flicking against you. The pleasure was almost too much, each lick and suck driving you closer and closer.

“That’s it angel, let go for me” Azriel spoke between each lick, choosing now to try a new nickname for you.

With a cry of pure ecstasy, you finally reached the peak, your body convulsing as the orgasm washed over you. Your moans and cries were loud, and they felt like music to Azriel’s ears. You could feel his fingers on your hip, his thumbs stroking your skin, and the heat of his lips as he continued to pleasure you as you rode out your orgasm.

As the waves of pleasure began to ebb, he purred, sending vibrations through your core. "You taste amazing,"

You breathed out, a tone filled with lust .”I want to taste you too…” Azriel growled at the thought and pressed his hardness against the mattress.

"Not today, my love. Today, I just want to make you feel good." Despite your attempt to shake your head, his lips reattached themselves to your sensitive bud, sucking lazily and sending shivers down your spine. It felt too good for you to resist or challenge him. 

You lost count of the number of times Azriel made you climax; his name had been moaned for what seemed like hours before exhaustion started to take over. He slowly made his way back up your naked body, his eyes devouring every curve before settling on yours with a tender gaze. He laid beside you, pulling the sheets over your exposed body and pulling you into a tight embrace. 

Soft kisses were pressed to your temple as sleep began to overtake you. 

"I will thank the cauldron every day for allowing you to be mine."

~~~

Next Part >> Hopefully before the end of the month

#acotar #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #acotar azriel #angst #acotar fanfiction #acotar series #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #naughty little shadows #azriel fluff #fluff #azriel smut #smut

[blues824]

Hello! Could I request Wednesday Addams s/o with the vice dorm leaders, Floyd instead of ortho (⁠ ⁠╹⁠▽⁠╹⁠ ⁠)

Thank you and have a great week <3

Gender-neutral reader.

Trey Clover

I picture him as the Tyler of the situation, but he’s only a backstabber in the sense that he doesn’t stop Riddle’s tyrannical behavior. Anyways, he doesn’t find you threatening and it infuriates you to no end. You’re used to intimidating people into doing what you want, but he isn’t that way at all. He’s also not intimidated by Thing.

You definitely exceed him academically, and he’s completely fine with it. He’s an all around average student, so he, so he’s not surprised when you surpass him in test scores and participation. Plus, you had an advantage: you had a very unusual education from your family and this set you above even the most dedicated students.

In addition to all of that, no one besides you had the guts to actually threaten the Headmage into giving you better living conditions. From what he had heard, you told Crowley that crows taste an awful lot like chicken and you would serve him at the next feast. Trey was tempted to make you a cake in celebration of this very strange achievement.

Then, one day, you went to him and started ranting about how Crowley volunteered you to play the cello at a school-wide pep rally. The baker was actually very excited to see how well you would fare, and after the show he gave you a painted black rose as a gift.

Once you both officially announce your relationship, everyone has a mixed reaction. Riddle definitely does not like you, and neither does Ace, and so they are surprised. However, Cater had already made a Magicam of pictures of the two of you and the hashtags were #otp. 

Ruggie Bucchi

You intimidated him to no end, but that didn’t deter him from trying to be your friend (or something more). But, when he was going around hurting people in order to sabotage the other dorms in the Spelldrive Tournament, you knew that it was him. Before he was going to make someone trip, you pulled him back by the shirt to the ground, straddled him, and said I knew it.

No one had ever done that to him, and his ears were twitching and if his tail was not trapped from under him he’s sure that it would have been wagging. His face started going red and his heart rate increased rapidly. Then, a random hand started crawling towards his head and he heard the little pats of Thing’s fingertips. Well, now he’s freaked out rather than flustered. What made him almost pass out was you talking to the hand.

Then there was the news that you threatened the Headmage himself. Ruggie was actually eavesdropping on the conversation right outside of the door, and he heard a sharp shing sound before you said that you always wanted to know what carving a crow was like. This was definitely a surprise for the hyena.

Unfortunately, Crowley would never do something if it didn’t benefit him in some way, even if his life was on the line. Everyone in the school knew. However, Ruggie did not expect you to show up and play the cello before a pep rally to make everyone quiet. You looked angry, and it made him snicker.

When you guys officially got romantically involved, the hyena is aware that a lot of people were surprised. It was trending on NRC’s Magicam page for three weeks, and it was a picture of you both kissing each other. Not going to lie, it surprised the two of you as well. But, you got along better than one would think.

Jade Leech

This smug bastard is most definitely not intimidated by you, but he is freaked out by Thing. I mean, it’s a walking hand without a body. You explained that it was an Addams Family secret, and that did nothing to calm him down. He eventually grew to become close with Thing, but that isn’t until much much later.

You actually joined his club not soon after you arrived, and he was thrilled about it. You told him that you found him intriguing but suspicious, and also you needed a break from all of the bullshit you go through on a day-to-day basis. Jade excused the first part and offered his hand out to you to help you down one of the mountains, but you pushed it aside. Perhaps his charm wasn’t as effective as he thought.

When he had heard that you threatened the Headmage himself, he really knew he was in love with you right then. From what he had gathered, you held a knife to Crowley’s throat and demanded liveable circumstances as well as a pay raise and less tasks. Well, this was certainly unexpected and that’s what Jade loved about it.

However, you don’t get anything for free, and he also heard that you agreed to play the cello along with the Light Music Club to start off one of the pep rallies. You did absolutely splendidly, but you looked clearly irritated until the stage was suddenly in flames. The eel did notice a sneaky little hand sneaking away with a canister of gasoline.

It was later that day where he told you that he knew you did it, and he had a picture of Thing as well. You asked what it would take for him not to snitch, and he asked you on a date while whipping out a black dahlia. Sure, it was named after your favorite murder, but you also knew the language of flowers. Betrayal and sadness. How fitting, isn’t it? Considering he was using this as blackmail. 

Floyd Leech

If you thought that he would find you intimidating, you are sorely mistaken. He’s also not intimidated by Thing at all. In fact, the two actually grew close in a short period of time so any means of scaring Floyd into doing something for you were slim to none. But, if you needed protection you could have just asked him.

He was surprised to see you show up to one of his games. You stood out amongst the rest of the crowd: clad in dark black and having a forever-annoyed expression on your face. But he didn’t fall in love with you for nothing. You were unique and very spontaneous, so you were never boring to him. Plus it seemed as though you had an inkling of a smile when he got a point for his team. He teased you for the rest of the day.

When he heard that you made death threats to the Headmage to make your living conditions better, it really sealed the deal here. You were now the love of his life and he would take no objections. He wanted to be with you wherever you were, and you often had his arms wrapped around your torso. It reminded you of the attachment your mother and father had, and you claimed that it was sickening… but we all know the truth.

Anyways, because he was so in love with you, he became sluggish when you weren’t there. Azul begged you to do something, and you did love the feeling of someone begging you for help. You proposed playing the cello for the Lounge, and Floyd overheard and grew very excited about this arrangement. He ended up still not doing any work because he was just listening to you play the strange string instrument.

Absolutely no one was surprised when you referred to Floyd as your boyfriend one day. Considering that the eel was always close by, a lot of people were surprised that you weren’t already in a relationship. But anyone could see from the uncharacteristically loving gaze that you gave your boyfriend that you both probably belonged with each other.

Jamil Viper

He definitely found you intimidating, and he freaked out when he saw Thing for the first time. He still freaks out every once in a while when the hand tries to help him out with his tasks as a Vice Housewarden. But you assured him that Thing was okay and sometimes rather annoying, which kind of hurt the detached limb’s feelings.

Honestly, he was also very surprised when you accepted his invitation to his basketball game. Again, you stood out from the rest of the crowd because you dressed in black and you looked angry at the world, but Jamil knew that this wasn’t the truth. You just did not want to look vulnerable, and he understood it completely. He did not miss the tiny smile you had when NRC won.

When word got out that you threatened the Headmage with a knife for renovations on Ramshackle, he was surprised. If you could do this successfully, then the Scarabia Vice Housewarden concluded that you might be more powerful and influential than even the five most powerful mages.

To further prove this, it seemed as though you had put the entire school under a trance through your cello playing at one of the pep rallies. You looked like you wanted to murder someone while you were playing, which made Jamil chuckle before he continued listening to the beautiful music that you were emitting from your instrument.

A lot of people were surprised when the two of you got together because you both were barely seen together. Kalim wasn’t surprised though because he could see that Jamil increasingly got nervous when he was around you. A lot of teasing and pushing ensued before the Vice Housewarden actually confessed to you.

Rook Hunt

You found this man so freaking annoying because he would not leave you alone after finding out the precise aim you had with a bow and arrow. He thought that Cupid shot an arrow through his heart as you shot an arrow through the apple that he had originally brought with him to consume after he was done with target practice.

Rook reminded you of how your father treated your mother: loving and very romantic. You could have been convinced that he might have somehow gotten in contact with your dad and asked him how he won over your mom’s heart with how hard the hunter was trying. Thing seemed to be on Hunt’s side as well because you’ve witnessed a few of their not-so-secret conversations about your likes and dislikes.

It did not matter if you threatened his life with a blade because he loved the thrill. But, when you threatened the Headmage, that really got his head turned in your direction. Sure, you weren’t magicless, but it still took a lot of courage to go up against and press a knife against the neck of the leader of one of the most prestigious schools in Twisted Wonderland and that’s what he loved. Knowing that you could and would bring the very world down to its knees and burn it behind you without looking back made the poetic man swoon.

Then, one night you were sitting outside of Ramshackle and you were talking to Thing. Rook had wanted to visit you to serenade you with a poem that he had written, but he just hid and listened as you started playing your cello. And let me tell you that when he thought he had never heard something so beautiful, I am not lying.

Eventually, you caved into his affection and he was absolutely ecstatic. You could see yourself following in your mom’s footsteps, but you were definitely not going to be a house-spouse. Seriously, until now you had never understood your parents’ love for each other. But now as you kiss the hunter who caught your heart somehow, everything just clicked into place.

Lilia Vanrouge

This man is a former general. If you thought you intimidated him, you should put on clown makeup and join a circus because you would at least make some money from entertaining people and telling jokes like these to not just yourself but also other people. Him and Thing became best buddies 5 minutes after meeting each other. Yeah, you’re going to get nowhere with him.

However, you did not find him annoying. You actually really enjoyed his company, and that unsettled you because you’re used to hating people. You didn’t appreciate his pranks, though, because they slowed you down from trying to find a way to get back home. What you didn’t know is that Lilia knows what you are trying to do and is saddened by how you’re so willing to leave but he’s also researching as much as he can to try and help you.

When you threatened the Headmage, the news spread like no wildfire that the bat fae had ever seen before. In fact, someone had taken a video (probably Idia through the cameras) of you holding a knife to Crowley’s neck and demanding better living conditions. Lilia hadn’t seen that technique in a few decades, but he applauded you for your bravery to do that. You walked out of the office and with him to Ramshackle as though nothing had happened, and it shocked him.

You joined the Light Music Club a few weeks after your workload was decreased, and he was surprised to see you bringing a black cello. He didn’t take you as someone to play a musical instrument on top of all the other talents you had, but he figured that you would do it well and you exceeded his expectations. You played wonderfully, and to the other club members it was as though you both were speaking to each other through violin and cello.

Once you both get romantically involved, Ace said something along the lines of ‘Never took you as someone who likes older men’ and he was promptly slapped in the back of the head by you. Lilia giggled at the first year’s attempt at humor, but quickly led you away so that you wouldn’t kill him.

#twst #twst x reader #twst wonderland #disney twst #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #twst trey clover #trey clover x reader #trey x reader #trey clover #twst trey #trey #twst trey clover x reader #twst trey x reader #twst ruggie #ruggie bucchi x reader #ruggie x reader #ruggie #ruggie bucchi #twst ruggie bucchi #twst ruggie x reader #twst jade leech #jade #twst jade #jade leech x reader #jade leech #jade x reader #twst jade x reader #floyd x reader

[bts-roses]

Embers

summary - Sometimes being best friends with Jungkook isn’t all that great, especially when he’s in love with someone else.

pairing - jeon jungkook x reader

genre - angst (hint of fuff), unrequited love(s)

word count - 2.7k

warnings - swearing :o, jungkook is going through it, y/n is going through it, y/n gets a burn :o, imagery of fire

set before After Hours

Jungkook was a ticking bomb. 

“We have some news.” Taehyung starts, glancing excitedly at the woman sitting beside him.

You look at the couple in front of you, trying to read the strange atmosphere. Your friendship group were about to have your monthly dinner at Taehyung and Jinah’s apartment. The wooden table was set more pristine than usual; the perfectly placed candlesticks and bouquets of flowers adorned the small dining room. This was an occasion. Your brows furrow at their elongated silence, staring at each other like they were the only ones in the room. You sneak a glance at your best friend next to you and you aren’t surprised to see the same puzzled expression on his face.

“So... Are you going to tell us or are we supposed to read your minds?” Jungkook remarks light-heartedly, bursting the imaginary bubble between the couple.

“Do you want to tell them? Or should I?” Taehyung teasingly asks Jinah and she rolls her eyes at the unnecessary anticipation.

“We’re getting married!” She bursts out, holding up her hidden hand to show a dainty diamond ring.

You freeze. 

A beat of silence spreads through the candlelit room. You meekly take another glance at the man beside you and you feel yourself flinch at the sight of him. It was as if one of the candles that illuminated his face flickered onto the fuse of his heart. You can tell he was using every fibre of his being to try and not drag his tongue across his cheek. You silently thank the gods that he doesn’t as that would’ve been a dead giveaway for his anger. But still, his jaw clenches and you notice the way his whole body tenses up. 

Tick.

“That’s great!” Jungkook exclaims a bit too happily and you discreetly jump at the suddenness.

You quickly smile at the couple, who doesn’t notice his slightly sarcastic tone, and sincerely add, “I’m so happy for you guys. When did you propose?”

“Oh, it wasn’t me.” Taehyung dismisses when he sees you looking at him, “Jinah got down on one knee last week.”

“Oh my God, really?” you ask, excitedly looking at Jinah, “What happened to your dream proposal?”

The other woman laughs, remembering the conversations during your wine-stained nights about your ideal future lives and the dreams you both painted with the strokes of intoxicated hopes.

“Well, we were planning on getting married anyways and the moment was just right.” she explains, lovingly glancing at her fiancé, “Don’t want to be too mushy with you guys but every moment with him just felt like the right moment. So I just wanted to speed up the process. You know, start the rest of my life with him a bit sooner...”

“Aw babes,” Taehyung teasingly coos, giving her a big kiss on her cheek and she whines in response.

You jokingly groan in disgust, warily glancing at Jungkook. He tries to join in on the joyous atmosphere by tensely chuckling at the couple’s interaction. His laughter carries a subliminal tension, you almost feel the flame in him grow bigger and bigger.

“And that isn’t all!” Jinah gleefully announces, “We also wanted to tell you, my most favourite people in the whole world-”

“Besides me, of course.” Taehyung cockily says.

You hear a sharp intake of breath.

Tick.

“You need to shut up,” She jokingly scolds, elbowing his side, “As I was saying, we were thinking about it and Jungkook, we want you to be our, well Tae’s, best man!”.

Another beat of silence fills the room yet its deafening. You don’t know if the crackling noise is coming from the ridiculous amounts of candles in the room or if its the sound of Jungkook’s anger. Whatever it is, you feel your heart burn with it.

Jungkook looks around at the three people in the room surprised, “M-me?”

Intently looking at him, you try and work out what he’s feeling. Is he about to detonate out in anger? Is he about to walk out of here? Turn the perfectly set table over? Make all these candles burn the whole place down? But it was when you observed his clenched fists at his lap and the glossy sheen over his doe eyes you realise: he’s distraught. Swiftly, you grab his hand underneath the table. 

“Why you acting shocked man? Of course you are gonna be my best man.” Taehyung points out and laughs, giving out a fond smile to his friend.

Tick

You feel his fingers subtly squeeze your comforting hand harder. Your heart feels a tame scorch at the action. Hearing him laugh, you sigh quietly in relief.

“I’m honoured.” He truthfully admits, “I won’t let you down, Tae.”

He turns to look at you and he sends you a reassuring gaze, as if to say he’s fine. You counter with a slightly pointed look, as if to say you can tell he’s not. Just as your about to grasp his hand tighter, he removes his hand from yours and looks away. Your heart burns deeper at the empty feeling, staring at him with a bittersweet smile on your face, not noticing Taehyung catching your stare at the man beside you.

“Okay, before Tae and Jungkook start making out,” Jinah looks at you with glee dancing across her face, “My sweet angel Y/n, will you be my maid of honour!?”

As if Jinah extinguished the slight burn in your heart, your eyes grow wide with surprise and let out a small happy squeal, gazing joyously into Jinah’s eyes. She takes your hands into hers, sharing your excitement with hers when you nod enthusiastically. You hear Taehyung make a comment about how it seems like the wedding was to actually please the girls. You both ignore him, realisation hitting you, you smack Jinah’s hand playfully. She fake cries in pain, confused at your actions.

“Oh my god.” You laugh out, “your sister is going to kill you!”

“No don’t- don’t even think about her. She’ll get over it. Besides, I trust you more than her and it feels just right with you taking the role.” Jinah says, feigning shyness, “And besides, if I was going to marry anyone else, it would have been you! Thought it would be very cliché of me to have a secret love as an important part of the wedding.”

Tick.

You stifle a laugh at Jinah’s joke, and Taehyung playfully pushes his fiancé. Next to you, the man forces out a few breathes, trying to join the laughter. His fists, however, grip the dusty pink tablecloth.

The dinner inches along painfully slow. The mixed emotions from both the joy for the couple and the acute awareness of Jungkook quietly breaking next to you overwhelms you. You instead find yourself grappling with gratitude and irritation towards the small lights - thankful for obscuring Jungkook’s and your discomfort yet annoyed for spotlighting this tragedy unravelling before the two lovers who remain blissfully unaware of the heartbreak right in front of them.

The night continues with discussions about potential wedding plans: the venue, the guest list, and season. Jinah leans towards a candlelit ceremony, but Tae jokes there would be too much smoke. He makes everyone chuckle at the thought of Namjoon accidentally catching his suit on a candle, effectively burning the place down. You feel yourself offer a comforting hand on Jungkook’s thigh as he struggles to engage in the conversation. He contributes as little dialogue as socially acceptable, his hands clutching the tablecloth tighter.

“And I want a shit ton of flowers” Jinah laughs. She falls silent before resuming, remembering a question she was meaning to ask, “Oh, Jungkook! What was the name of those flowers you gave me again? They were so beautiful! I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

Jungkook flushes at the sudden focus on him, he clears his throat.

“The tiger lily” he pauses, “It’s our birth flower.”

As Jinah reacts with excitement and talks about the flower would be the motif flower, your breath hitches at the memory of Jungkook’s gesture. It was the moment he realised that the woman in front of him only saw him as a friend. It was also the first moment your heart combusted at the realisation that Jungkook didn’t love you but someone else.

“Y/n! You’re the expert on flower meanings,” Jinah turns to you, excitement beaming on her face, “What does the flower mean? And please don’t tell me it means something like patriotic or obedience.”

Silence fills the room. You almost glare at the empty plate in front of you, resisting the urge to scoff at how cruelly comedic this all was.

“It means ‘please love me.’” 

Tick.

You hear Jinah express awe, lovingly looking at Taehyung who stares back at her in the exact same way. They both fail to connect the lily’s meaning to the fact that Jungkook gave those flowers not because they were friends who shared a birthday, but as a confession. You notice the other side of the table move slightly and you look down to see Jungkook’s fist gripping the tablecloth impossibly tighter, moving all the contents on it. Alarmed, you notice the candle stick on his side slowly tipping over. You catch it before it falls over and you place it on your side, wondering if the burn of the flame would mirror how your heart feels right now.

As the couple continues talking, you place your hand over Jungkook’s and he releases the tablecloth much to your relief. Yet, you feel his intensifying anger radiate off him with every mention of the wedding, every suggestion, every plan, the fuse inching closer and closer to detonation. Every word agonisingly dragging him to the realisation that this was all real.

Tick. 

“Yes, and obviously, Jungkook and Y/n will sing at our wedding!” Jinah states, as if it’s common knowledge.

Surprised, you exchange glances, your brows furrowed in confusion. But before you can gently dissuade her, Jungkook beats you to it.

“Wait what?” Jungkook enquires, “Are you sure? Professional wedding singers would be better, you know?.

“No please! It would mean the world to me. Y/n I haven’t heard you sing in ages!” Jinah begs, her tragically beautiful eyes pleading with her.

You make a quiet remark about there being a good reason for that (you aren’t the best singer). The soon-to-be-bride ignores you with an eye roll.

“Hey, this is my wedding, if I want my two gorgeously talented friends to sing at my wedding, I will have my two gorgeously talented friends sing at my wedding. Especially you, Jungkook; you used to always sing for me!”

Tick.

You both abandon your upcoming protests at the statement, quietly agreeing to her. Taehyung comments on how Jinah is already turning into Bridezilla, which earns a deserved smack from her. Jungkook lets out a laugh and your unsure if it was at the joke or the absurdity of the whole situation.

“Anyways...” Jinah continues, looking at the table with a breath-taking smile, “I want to thank you guys for coming tonight and celebrating with us.”

She moves to quickly poor everyone’s glasses with more sparkling wine, making a big show in lifting hers up with the expectation for everyone to follow suit. 

“Cheers to love!”

Tick.

And when you raise your glass to meet the other three, you feel the burn of the candle on your arm. You chuckle. The pain does feel just like your heart.

When the night finally ends, Jinah and Taehyung blows all the candles out while Jungkook helps you put your coat on without it rubbing on your newly formed burn. Taehyung gives you an enquiring look at your disheartened expression, you shake your head, not wanting to answer him in this moment. They both linger in the doorway after you exchange hugs and goodbyes, you cringe at the lingering scent of smoke from the extinguished flames. 

Exciting the apartment complex, you inhale the crisp, clear air, a stark contrast to the suffocating atmosphere inside. You watch as Jungkook tensely walks to his car. Knowing its best to remain quiet, you let out a shaky exhale and watch your breath dissipate in the air.

The car ride is quiet, accompanied by the low melodies dancing out of Jungkook’s car. Although the night is cold, Jungkook remains radiating an intense heat, and you finally see his tongue drag across his cheek.

Upon entering his apartment, he holds the door open for you as you walk in. Standing together in his kitchen, you watch as he leans back, closes his eyes, and releases an unstable breath. His brows furrow in anguish as he processes the recent events. With an ache in your heart, you reach out to him, yearning to soothe the flames that flash behind his eyes.

“Jungkook...”, your voice hesitates, the weight of the unspoken question hanging heavily, “Are you okay?”

His silence is deafening, and in a desperate attempt to offer comfort, you reach out to comfortingly touch his arm, a silent plea for him to confide in you. At the feeling of your presence, he flinches away, as if your touch was ice cold, threatening to extinguish the flames within him.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

He looks at you, and for a fleeting moment, you see the fire within him falter down. But before you could let out relieved smile, it detonates. 

“Do you think I’m okay? Does any of this stupid fucking situation seem okay? This- this is just so fucked. So tell me, how the fuck can I be okay in this situation?!”

He snaps, heat laced in his words and his body language, hitting the countertop with a forceful impact. He swears at the self-inflicted pain in his hand, unleashing a stream of loud curses into the room. Instinctively, you quickly move to grab his arms before he continues to batter the surface. He looks at you with blown out eyes, a silent plea for an answer. As he drops his arms, withdrawing from your touch, pain combusts in his eyes. You yearn to run past his anger, comfort him, and ease his turmoil. But his flames are too intense, too guarded, and leaving you at a helpless loss for words. Your heart is scorched as you witness him heartbroken, deeply in love with someone who isn’t you, and all you can do is feel the pain slowly engulf your chest in flames.

It falls silent.

You have enough self-worth to know your heart’s been burned enough tonight so you both just stand there in the quiet aftermath. The room is enveloped in the heavy smoke of silence as Jungkook’s flames finally flicker out, as if he comes back to his senses.

“Shit, I’m sorry...” Jungkook curses out, “I’m just... I can’t- I don’t know what to do. I think I just...”

A quiet understanding lingers in the space between you two. You don’t need to say anything because Jungkook knows your there, and he feels himself calm down in your presence. He doesn’t need to say anything as well because you know him and you know right now he just needs time. You give him an earnest smile, as if to say it’s okay. Jungkook believes you, feeling his heart cool down for now. 

You slowly move to give him a hug, wrapping your arms around his neck. He sinks into your touch. He almost laughs at how much your presence calms him; you pray he can’t feel how jittery he makes your chest feel.

“Y/n, what do I do?” he mumbles into your neck, you feel him shudder as if he got a chill when you rub his back to soothe him.

“We can be happy for them Jungkook” you say honestly, warmth circulating your body when you feel him tighten his arms around your waist, “I think that’s all we can do.”

After a silent beat and a kiss to his cheek, you bid him a goodnight and a promise that you will see each other tomorrow. He tells you that he’s grateful for you; you smile as if he didn’t just incinerate your heart. 

Your heart is left in embers, flickering with the remnants of his fire: the love that was never for you.

a/n: Thank you for reading!!!!!

#jungkook angst #jungkook scenarios #jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts x reader #bts imagine #bts angst #bts

[spookyscarydemonbabe]

Bully

Summary- Gareth decides to take up a summer job as a counselor at his old summer camp. Unfortunately, he didn’t expect to see you there too.

Genre- Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

Warnings- reader childishly bullying Gareth when they’re kids

Word Count- 1.9k

Tag List- @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @munsonology @aidansloth @esme-viridian @toomanyfandomsimfanvergent

(tag list is always open, let me know if you’d like to be added 🫶)

Gareth wanted to laugh as he looked at himself in the bathroom mirror.

Jean shorts, sneakers, bright yellow tee with the camp logo plastered right on the front. The same as when he was a little kid, only now he was a big kid, and it looked just as ridiculous as it did then.

At least every other counselor was wearing the same thing.

He exited the bathroom and gave a few of the older counselors a wave as he made his way to the rec hall for orientation. He recognized a few faces from school as he entered the old building, just a few other people he would see in the halls in school. The place was just as he remembered it.

Yellow lights, wood paneled walls, and that familiar wet paint smell that seemed to never leave the halls. The nostalgia made him smile, remembering a few past moments from his time at summer camp. Swimming, hiking, and he always loved when he was able to look around the trees and bushes and bugs when they did nature walks. There was only one thing that he hated about camp and that was-

“Gareth?”

That voice made his body tense up immediately. He hadn’t heard it in so long, and yet he knew exactly who it was.

He turned and was shocked to see you standing there, same outfit as him, looking just the same as you did so many years back. You were older, but he still had that same feeling he did about you when he saw you last. And it wasn’t a good one.

“Hey,” You said with a smile, taking a few steps closer to him, “how’ve you been? I haven’t seen you since we were little, you look…” Your eyes graced him up and down, “older. Like little you just got bigger.” You giggled.

He pursed his lips and tried to look anywhere except for your general direction. But his mother raised him too well to be anything other than a gentleman,

“Thanks.” He said plainly with a smile, “You look almost the same too. Save for, you know, getting taller and older and all that.”

He couldn’t stand the fact that he was forcing himself to be nice to you, and he knows that he shouldn’t hold a grudge over something that had happened so long ago but he just couldn’t look past it.

You made his life miserable, and now here he was, in the same predicament as he was all those years ago. Stuck at the same camp all summer.

“Are you counseling here too?” You asked him, noticing his uniform.

“Yep. Figured it would be nice for some extra money.” He shrugged and glanced inside the small room, seeing the other summer counselors taking their seats, “It was nice to see you again. Maybe we’ll run into each other again while we’re here.”

“Maybe.” You said with a smile as you turned and walked your way back, entering one set of double doors as Gareth entered the other.

It was strange seeing him after so long, and you’re sure you could sense he felt it was strange too. Maybe for a different reason than you…

The room was quiet, and as Gareth looked around there weren’t many open seats, just two near the middle were left open and he felt hopeful until he saw you sit in one of them. One empty chair left, and of course it was next to you.

He groaned to himself, making his way to the empty chair and keeping sure to not acknowledge you and focus his attention to the front of the room. Though he could already sense your eyes on him. Only quick glances here and there, but you couldn’t help but try to get a better look at him.

He had fidgeting uncomfortably in his seat, not even paying attention to the camp director at the fronts yearly speech, announcing the new additions to the activities schedule and the new rules that had to be put in place thanks to a few of the campers sneaking off in the middle of the night to try and get to the kitchens for a midnight snack. He didn’t even notice his own name being announced until you nudged him with your elbow.

His attention was brought back to the camp director, announcing the two of you coming back to camp as counselors after being campers yourselves many years ago. But even the welcoming looks from the seasoned counselors and the much too bright smile of the camp director wasn’t enough to shake the bad feeling he had gotten since he saw you.

All those memories from years before had come flooding back into his brain after trying so hard to forget them. He remembered then why he hadn’t come back for so long.

He knew you were both grown now, just reaching the cusp of adulthood and having many of your own experiences as you grew up, but he didn’t care. That didn’t change the way you treated him.

When he saw you standing there in that hallway he couldn’t help the wave of unease that washed over him.

He didn’t see a girl he knew from camp nearly a decade beforehand, he saw the girl that made his life hell on earth for weeks on end.

The girl that would hide his change of clothes in the woods after swimming in the lake so he would be stuck freezing cold in a bathing suit for half the day. The girl that would accidentally step on his letters from home before he got to read them. The girl that time and time again would accuse him of being the bully just because she was a sweet and innocent little girl but he knew you were nothing close to sweet and innocent.

For the first time in his life, you showed him what hate felt like.

His zoning out has caused him to not realize the little start of camp meeting had ended, and he was one of the last people sitting in those uncomfortable plastic chairs.

He sighed and decided he wouldn’t let you get the best of him this year. He wasn’t going to let the bad memories of the place ruin his chance to many any good ones. He was no longer a scared boy, he was a man, or at least he was close to one.

Gareth stood up and walked out from the aisle of the rickety plastic chairs, following the other counselors outside to go to their selected cabins and meet the groups of kids they were each assigned for the year. He had only just stepped a few feet outside before he felt someone grab his shoulder,

“Hey,” It was you. Again. “Can i talk to you for just a sec?”

Gareth sighed and pulled his arm back, glancing over and seeing that the other summer counselors were still walking with the director,

“Sure.” He said to you, still trying to keep up with the group as you walked next to him.

“Look, i know that we didn’t get along all that well when we were kids-“

“That’s one way to put it.” He cut you off, and you could see that you being around was irritating enough to him.

“I know that i was a bitch to you, and i shouldn’t have been. I treated you horribly and you didn’t deserve that.” He could hear that you were being sincere, but he still couldn’t shake the fact that you had made him feel so horrible all those years ago.

“I didn’t. Why me? Why, out of all the other kids we were with, did you pick me to torment?” He couldn’t even look at you, keeping his gaze on the counselors a few yards ahead of you.

“I don’t know… To be honest with you, i didn’t even hate you. I don’t even think there was one time i thought i disliked you.” If there was any time to be honest with him, it was now, “I always thought you were really nice, and from what i remember you were pretty cool, for an eight year olds standards.” You smiled and let out a giggle to ease the tension but he had kept himself still.

“Look,” You quickly stepped in front of him, stopping your walk and making him finally look at you, wether he wanted to or not, “I just wanted to apologize. You didn’t deserve that, no one does, and i just wanted the chance to say that i’m sorry. So… I’m sorry.”

Gareth stood there and stared for a moment. You saw the puzzled look on his face and gave him a moment.

He wasn’t sure how to feel.

He was so angry at you for so long, years passing of him trying so hard to get rid of those terrible memories that you caused, and he wanted to still be mad at you but he couldn’t. He couldn’t bring himself to continue on with this anger he’d held onto for so long.

Though it can’t fix the damage you caused, it was still nice to hear you finally utter those two words he’d been waiting so long to hear.

All he wanted was an apology after so long, but now that he had gotten it, he didn’t know how he should feel towards you.

He looked you over for a moment. He couldn’t see that hateful girl anymore, all he could see now was a girl with a remorseful look on her face who very clearly felt so much shame for the way she treated him.

“Thank you.” He said plainly, not sure of what else to say that could make the situation any less awkward.

“Of course. I feel like an apology is well deserved for the way i treated you. And if you want to, maybe we could just use this summer as a fresh start with each other?” You wanted to be hopeful, and seeing his eyes finally lock with yours gave you the littlest bit of security you needed.

“Yeah.” He said with a smile, “I’d like that.”

“Me too.” You smiled back, “And i promise i won’t put a frog down your shorts this time.”

The two of you shared a laugh, and you thought you could see a bit of pink on Gareths cheeks as he looked down at his shoes.

“Good, that was definitely one i forgot about.”

You smiled and looked just up ahead of you at the other counselors huddled in a group, watching the girls and boys split up to their respective areas to meet the campers.

“I guess this is where we part.” You turned back to Gareth and gave him a small smile, “It really is nice to see you again.”

“Yeah, you too.” He smiled and nodded in agreement.

You reached your open hand out for him to take,

“Friends?”

He took your hand gently and shook it once between you,

“Friends.”

You held your hands for just a moment, enjoying the silence with one another before noticing the girls and boys moving further down the paths to their respective camps,

“I’ll see you around, ok?”

You smiled to him one last time, and he smiled back before his hand slipped from yours.

He watched as you quickly jogged to catch back up to the other girls, and he figured he should do the same, but he couldn’t help but stare with a smile for just another moment.

For someone he hated so much an hour ago, he even shocked himself with seeing how pretty you’ve gotten. A fresh start between you two would be the perfect thing in his eyes.

At least this time he’d be able to get to know a pretty girl.

(this was written for my summer camp AU event, if you’d like to request a fic or HCs for it please let me know!🖤)

#stranger things #stranger things 4 #gareth emerson #gareth emerson x y/n #gareth emerson fluff #gareth emerson x female reader #gareth emerson x reader #gareth stranger things #gareth the great #gareth emerson x you

[bae04xx]

Cam you write a yandere dream sans x reader please

im a little rusty with the undertale aus so sorry if this is out of character 😭 i tried my hardest xx

this is so shit man i’m sorryyyy

kinda yandere dream sans x reader

fluff ☁️

dream lay in between my legs, his head resting up against me as he read. some new book he had been raving about, i’d been struggling to focus, or even listen to anything for the last couple of days- it’s been getting on my nerves. after being cooped up in this.. space? i’m not really sure what it was called, you get a bit stuck in your own head. too conscious of your own thoughts, i get like that. it gets worse when dream is off doing god knows what for hours at a time- he doesn’t tell me much, never has, you just get used to be in the dark, doesn’t make it any more bearable but it makes you expect it.

“y/n? y/n?” dream calls out to me, breaking me from my mental rant.

“huh? yeah sorry,” i reply sheepishly as i hear a sigh from him, he places his book down.

“what are you thinking about?” he beams, i can feel him smiling despite not being able to see.

“nothing much, just wondering what you’re reading,” i lie, i know he can tell but he goes along with it anyway.

“you feel quite tense for just that,” he chuckles, “i’m going to have to meet blue and ink soon, we’ve got some things to figure out,” he massages my thigh as i lean back, exhaling softly before i decide what to say.

“..why don’t i come?” i speak, just above a whisper, my question makes him go slightly rigid.

“well, y/n, um. i’ll have to think about it,” he stammers, unsure of what to say. dream is one of the most positive people i know, i never usually see him looking for his words.

“it’s alright, i just thought it’d be nice to meet your friends, considering you spend so much time with them,”

“trust me i spent a lot more time with them before i met you, and they’re starting to have a few questions about that. maybe it’d be good if you met them,” he announced, jumping up and dusting himself off.

i quickly followed, letting him guide me to where we we’re going.

after a strange way of transportation, we arrived. there were 2 other skeletons like him, one with a paint brush and another with a blue bandana- they suited their names. who i presumed was blue jumped up when he saw me, cocking his head at dream, while ink stayed seated, his eyes narrowed at me.

“WHO’S THIS!?” blue demanded, attempting to rush over to me, only to be pulled back by ink. dream had spoken very little of them both beyond their names but i could guess ink was in charge by his demeanour.

“this is y/n, she’s been living with me for the past couple of months. i thought she should meet you two,” he smiled, his arm firmly around my waist.

“and you bought her to a meeting?” ink questioned, a slight bite in his voice.

“HELLO HUMAN Y/N, DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?” blue almost screamed, i didn’t really know what to say.

“it’s nice to meet you y/n,” ink said, a forced politeness to me, i could tell he didn’t mean to be rude but there was something beneath the surface. “can we speak to you alone dream?” he asked, tapping his bony fingers rhythmically against the table.

“of course you can, y/n would you mind going into the other room?” he asked, pointing to a wooden door to my left, i walked off, ignoring the goodbyes from the 3 skeletons.

there i tried to drown out their argument, i heard my name being thrown around like a game of piggy in the middle. dream drastically trying to defend not only me but myself, ink interrogating him about where i came from, who i was, if i was dangerous and how much of a risk i made them. and blue was just joining in, asking so many questions about me. i desperately tried to ignore it, wishing for some headphones, or at least to be put in a room far, far away from them.

after an hour of being on my own, dream burst into the room, a tired, forced smile on his face.

“y/n! come on, we’re going,” we sighed, trying his best to keep his normal bubbly energy up.

“what even happened?” i asked as he dragged my arm lightly.

“we’ll discuss this next time,” ink spoke calmly, clearly with ruffled feathers.

“there’s nothing more to discuss.” dream said sternly, ending the conversation- you could cut the atmosphere with a knife.

when we got home i was still very confused, as always.

“what was that all about?” i asked, while dream held me, he had told me before that my presence alone can calm him down, so i think that’s what he needed right now.

no response.

“dream?” i questioned again, waiting for an answer.

5 minutes of silence went by before he stated,

“they want to take you away from me.”

“what?” i didn’t know how to feel, or what to say, dream was trying his hardest to stay calm and remain in a happy place, yet the way he was acting was eerie.

“but i’m not going to let them do that, you’re never leaving me. i promise.”

#undertale au x reader #undertale x reader #dream sans #dream sans x reader #fanfic #x reader fanfic #undertale #undertale au #i struggled with this #yandere #yandere sans x reader #yandere sans #yandere dream sans #yandere dream sans x reader #sorry if this is bad

[amyispxnk]

Neon green

Halloweeny drabbles with Joel Miller!

30/10- spooky nails

Summary: you and Joel paint your nails

A/N-Not insanely Halloweeny but this popped into my head and I just had to write it.

Joel Miller x f!reader (can maybe be read as gn)

Word count: 895

Warnings: pet names, fluff

DO NOT COPY THIS WORK IN ANY WAY PLS AND TY.

°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°

You're sat at the dining table, foot propped up and an assortment of nail polish in front of you. You're trying your hardest to make cute Halloweeny designs on your nails with your new glow-in-the-dark colours, but it's proving to be very difficult.

You hear a low chuckle from the other side of the room as his keys drop in the little bowl on the table by the door, kicking his boots off and walking up to you.

"Now, what are you doin'?" He questioned, finding your positioning - head resting on your chin with your toes positioned between some strange separating device and one hand far away from you on the table as you painted with the other - incredibly amusing.

"I am painting my nails." You announced, holding your free hand up and showing it to him. "Look, I already did these - do you like them?"

He carefully held your hand and studied the nails for a moment, before humming a noise of approval.

"'s nice. I like the.. cat." He murmured, looking at your pointer finger's nail.

You frowned slightly. "It's supposed to be a witch." You replied, taking your hand away from him and looking at it yourself now. Okay, maybe it looked more like a cat. Somehow you messed up that badly.

"I thought the hands were good, so these are definitely worse." You gestured to your toes which were painted with slightly simpler designs, cobwebs and the such.

"No! No, they're good. Real nice sweetheart." He bent down and kissed you on the cheek, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear and out of your face before walking over to the kitchen to make some food for himself.

10 minutes later, you had finished your nails and mostly dried them, looking at them and trying to figure out if they looked okay.

"Joel?" You called for him, heavy footsteps sounding from above you as he came to the living room.

"What d'ya need?" He said as he rounded the corner of the couch to stand in front of you.

You showed your nails to him once again. "What's the verdict?"

"They're.. good. I can definitely tell that this one is a spider."

It was indeed a spider, so that was a good sign.

"I feel like I could've done better." You commented.

"Well, you can always try again some other time. I think they look great though." He said as he turned to leave - but an idea popped into your head and you grabbed his arm, forcing him down onto the couch a little roughly.

"Coulda just asked me to sit down." He coughed, sitting upright and looking at you.

"Sorry! Just- gimme a sec."

You hurried over to the kitchen where some of your nail polish still was, bringing it back with you and sitting down on the couch beside him, making his eyebrows raise even higher.

"Your nails are already painted."

"They are." You answered, unscrewing the cap to the neon green polish

"So what's the plan exactly?"

"I wanna paint your nails Joel. It'll be easier doing the designs on yours than mine."

His eyes bulged out of their sockets and you couldn't help but giggle slightly at the look on his face.

"Wha-at!" You laughed.

"But- I thought that, yknow, that's not exactly.. it's like a girl thing." He said, watching as you got the brush covered in varnish and held it above the bottle so it wouldn't drip on your table.

"'s not a girl thing, Joel. C'mon pleeeeaase let me paint your nails." He sighed, holding his hand out for you.

"The things I do for you."

"'cause you love me so much." You grinned, relishing in the victory and starting to paint his nail.

"Yeah you got me there." He murmured, watching as you painted his nails.

Joel had never done anything like this before, growing up surrounded by all the 'girls only do this and boys only do this and they can't swap it around' stereotypes, and a guy having his nails painted was very strange to him. He didn't find it weird, he had just simply never seen it before, and that's probably why he was so fixated on his nails as you worked, barely even noticing you were done until you were blowing on his nails and telling him to flap his hand around so it dried quicker.

"Well, what do you think? Any better than the first attempt?"

He was stretching his fingers, spreading them apart and turning his hand to get a view of each one.

"So nice, baby. You did a really good job." He praised, before turning to you.

"Maybe do the other one too?" He asked tentatively. "For more practice."

"Or you just realised you actually like having your nails painted but you're too shy to admit it..?" You exposed him as you took his other hand and began painting.

"Yeah, got me again." He chuckled softly.

When you finished and turned the lights off to make his nails glow in the dark, he actually gasped in awe at the sight of them, complimenting you again and saying how you'd improved so fast and how good they looked in the dark and how you should do this more often with him, warming your heart and your cheeks as he continued gushing about the nails.

°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed! Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated and requests are open. 💞

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller one shot #joel miller imagine #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller fluff #joel miller x f!reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #the last of us #amyispxnk fics

[whatgaviiformes]

Ficlet: Where the sea meets the shore...

A/N Struggling to put words on the page, so I went comfort zone and I borrowed a prompt from FishTank Week. ‘Coz let’s be honest, my love for these two doesn’t stop and I didn’t create new during the week the way I wanted to. Just needed more time, that’s all.  

*****

The thing about Virgil is that he can easily get lost - in time, in creativity, in his own mind – and it’s the one thing about him that most stresses out Scott, irritates John’s nerves, and clashes with Alan’s hyperactivity. And sure, Gordon’s got his own lack of patience for this habit of their brother’s, but he also figures he owes him a little for all the raving he’s done about marine discoveries during their flights in Two.

He also kind of gets it, at least in a way he’s more willing to acknowledge. Just because John and Scott call their hyper-focuses “work.”

 Gordon understands that it’s just in Virgil’s innate nature to be so connected to - well, nature. Maybe he’s more able to meet him in that head space being a marine scientist. The subject just has to beat his lack of attention span, and then sure. He could spend hours watching tidepools, for example. And he has.

In any case, it’s his defense of Virgil that awards him the duty of finding him amidst wherever his head has found itself among the clouds and bringing him back to Earth, and the villa, before nightfall. Not that Gordon minds. He would’ve offered anyway once John told him where his heat signature was located. The rock beach is beautiful at sunset.

He expects to find him with his paint kit, but without a canvas in sight the familiar figure in flannel sits atop one of the larger rocks near the shore that’s speckled with the same slick shine of the other stones surrounding. At high tide, it breaches the surface of the water safe from all but the slight spray. As long as he’s careful with his footing, and there’s not a storm brewing, the rock is as good a perch as any.

But it’s one of Gordon’s spots, not one of Virgil’s.

“You’ve been out here long enough to see the tide turn over,” he calls, announcing his arrival as he steps carefully over the still wet stones and pebbles. Knowing himself, and knowing Virgil, he does try to keep his voice from booming. Virgil startles anyway, but he’s not steady number two for nothing.

“Gordon!”

“I expected you to have your paints,” Gordon admits, nudging his way into part of the rock seat next to him. “What’s caught your eye out here?”

Virgil lowers the hand he’d offered as Gordon made his way over (just in case). “More my ear,” he says. “I’ve just been listening.”

“All this time?” he chuckles. Any stresses Gordon carries don’t linger long, as he’s used to releasing them with the ocean drifts. So the sounds that have caught Virgil’s ear are familiar and friendly, and he finds his shoulders lowering with ease now that he’s found Virgil safe in mind and body, hugged close by a phenomenon so close to his own heart.

“There’s a whisper,” Virgil tries to describe with wave of his hand, “where the sea meets the shore.” His expression pinches with concentration. “A ripple. Can you hear it?”

Not a strange question coming from Virgil, who often could hear music where his siblings could not.

“I call it susurrus.” A smile slides across Gordon’s face, as he closes off the world around him to lull into the single murmur of the waves lapping on shore. “Don’t look at me like that,” because he can feel Virgil’s eyes on him. “I retained some of the SAT words John gave me. It comes from Latin. Actually, does mean murmur.”

“Su-sur-rus,” he echoes with the seafoam.  “Even the word sounds like a whisper.”

“Hmm.” His curiosity mounts, and he must ask, “So what does the sea whisper to you?” Although he shakes with the vulnerability of the question, his voice is firm and does not betray the insecurity he suddenly feels over the immediate quiet in this place he loves so fiercely.

“It’s not a call,” Virgil says eventually, contemplating even as he pins Gordon with his gaze, as that’s what it’s always been for him. As amusing as it is to joke that he should’ve been born a merman, there’s some truth to the fact that the sea has welcomed his soul into her depths, and Gordon’s ear is well attuned to her calls, her furies, her tempests, her caresses. “For me, it’s like she wants me to listen closer to her secrets.” Then, Virgil laughs. “Mischievous. The sound reminds me very much of you. Always teasing, but never telling.”

“Eh. She led you to my secret spot,” he counters, grinning. “That’s one down.”

“So she did.”

#ficlets and bits #Gavii Scribit #FishTank Week 2023 #For the Love of FishTank

[therattsden]

I had a Caroline drabble idea where the concept only really worked if I genderbent Cave, so have some Caroline and Cate. Sort of.

The Assistant

Caroline was known for many things. A ‘diligent work ethic’, A ‘motherly instinct’ towards her sick and dying boss, the ‘beauty’ in each expression and flip of her chemically scented hair. Wherever she went, they spoke of how well she blended into the crowd, into the company, into Cate. A modern day wallflower.

That’s all she was. The dutiful assistant. Quiet and unseen. Calm under pressure. Her personality fit the bill to the untrained eye. Create the meetings, the emails, the arrangements, keep everything orderly and neat. She could do that. It was all she was known for. That was fine. It was better to be useful than not, to be seen and heard when it mattered. She would also have a spotlight someday, somehow. Caroline just needed the right time to shine.

At least there had been plenty of things to learn from Cate's shadow over the decades, even if she practically managed the company on her own. Mrs. Johnson was the face of it, the perfect cancer-riddled body, but Caroline was the mind, the liver, the backbone, anything that actually functioned instead of just sitting there looking pretty and coughing up a lung. That was fine.

Caroline sat at her desk, quietly working on some paperwork so sweetly plopped there and abandoned by a few employees last minute. Prim. Proper. Legs crossed at the ankle, fingernails painted Mrs. Johnson’s favorite shade. The perfect assistant to the woman who could do no wrong. Sure it was time to clock out, but not for her. Never for her. There was simply too much to do and no one else willing to do it.

It flashed in her mind. All of the late nights in the office, chugging coffee, pushing paperwork, human rights, herself, all out of the window for the woman she once admired so wholeheartedly. This was and would always be her life if Cate's decree became more than expected but demanded. Robotics, all the way into eternal servitude while Cate sat in Hades laughing at her…

No. Aperture would be fine, no, BETTER in her careful, steady hands. Did she need to wait until Mrs. Johnson died to figure that out? No…

It wasn't fine.

But it will be. Soon enough.

"Folks, I've got some news." Mrs. Johnson's tone was heavy, yet also empty in a way it had never been over the microphone before.

"Usually I'd make some joke about good news versus bad news, or this being about the recent round of layoffs, but no. I'm afraid this one's serious."

She let out a heavy sigh.

".... Caroline's gone. Now, I know what you're thinking; Cate, what's gonna happen to the company without her? She was the backbone of this facility! And believe me, I get it - I wondered the same thing when I heard. But rest assured, she left all her notes and things behind, meaning someone else can pick up right where she left off. Things should run just fine from your end, barely a hiccup in the production line!... But, if any of you need some time to grieve, there'll be a counselor or something sent around the departments to listen on your smoke breaks."

She paused to regard the crowd gathered beneath her, studying their faces through a stoney gaze… Then she coughed once into her fist, before perfectly manicured nails waved the group off.

"Well. Those smoke breaks aren't for a while yet, so get back to work."

Doug stood awkwardly among the front row of the crowd that had gathered to hear her big announcement in person, dragged there at Henry's insistence. Caroline was gone? What had happened to her? It must've been bad for Mrs. Johnson not to explain at all… Was it a lab accident after all these years, or had she left of her own accord? Why now?

As Doug chewed on his thoughts and cheek, he couldn't help but feel that something was… Off. Obviously the disappearance was strange, but even Mrs. Johnson herself; the shape of her face was just slightly too pointed, her hair a little too blonde, put up a little too neatly (when had he last seen it look styled?), cough a little too forced. It was… Unsettling. But maybe it was just the light so harsh behind her?

He tried to scrutinize a little further as she walked away, but Henry had other ideas, smacking Doug on the shoulder in what he supposed was a friendly, coworker manner yet still made him jump.

"Hey Doug, what're you staring at?" Henry asked, looking between him and the retreating Mrs. Johnson. "You heard her, time to get back to it."

Doug blinked, rubbing the hit shoulder before looking over to him. "... Nothing. Let's go."

Surely it was nothing. He was paranoid, that's all… It was pretty harrowing news after all. This was just his imagination. It was fine.

#Portal #Genderbent #Caroline has a fucking moment

[m0rbidmacabre]

Chapter 4

Summary:

Copia wakes up with plans to spend the day reading in the library and hopes to see Celestina. He encounters the Cardinal and a strange man, Papa Emeritus 2, who observes him without saying much. Copia later meets Celestina and they decide to take a walk in the woods. They share their first kiss and discuss their future together. However, Copia is abruptly informed that he is being sent to an abbey in Europe for further studies, leaving Celestina behind. Copia packs his things, writes a letter to Celestina, and leaves the orphanage. He is escorted by a masked ghoul to the abbey, where he feels a mix of excitement and sadness about his new life.

Notes:

I'm sorry guys, this is a long and hard one. It was only inevitable that this was going to happen. please don't be sad. ILU, ILU <3 BUCKLE UP...

Ao3 link - Read Here

Chapter 4

Copia woke on what seemed like normal day. They had free time today and he was planning on spending it in the library reading books. He was also hoping to see Celestina, hoping they could share a few hours reading together.

Copia dragged himself out of bed, his eyes heavy and his brain still fuzzy from his slumber. He got himself dressed quickly, not wanting to waste his day. “Come on Ratto, let’s go to the library” he said to the small rat, picking him up with ease and placing him on his shoulder.

His little best friend was never far away from him these days, they spent all their time together and they both would not have it any other way. They were good for each other, and they both loved the companionship of the other.

Arriving at the library he found his usual spot, sitting next to his own little library of books, and sat cross-legged with his head in his book. The morning light was drifting in through the windows and he let out a sigh. He could happily spend all day here; he was happy in this space. He knew no one would bother him and he can spend it wrapped in some mystical land or reading historic texts about days gone by.

It was not long before he heard the library door open, he looked over the top of his book to see the Cardinal walk in with a strange-looking man. He was wearing green robes which made him look important and his face painted in Papel paints. Copia thought he must be one of the church heads, who was here to look around the building and checking up on the work of the siblings and Cardinal. He looked back down at his book as the two drew closer to him.

“Copia…” the Cardinal said clearing his throat to get his attention.

Copia looked up from his book, his eyes darting between the two men. Copia thought to himself that he wanted to show off his brightest student to the robed man from the church, he was out to impress him. Which made Copia roll his eyes inwardly.

“Copia, this is Papa Emeritus 2...” the Cardinal said introducing him to the stoic man stood in front of him.

Copia got to his feet and dusted himself off… the small rat running into his pocket for safety and offered his hand to Secondo.

“Papa, hi... Pleased to meet you, I am… Copia”. He smiled and offering his hand.

The man just stood looking at him as if he were observing some animal in a zoo, his face so straight and without emotion that you could not tell even for a moment what he was thinking. It was like he was studying him, and Copia had no idea why. He was no different to any of the other orphans here... Just an ordinary boy, with no family... He just existed.

It took a moment, but the man finally said Hello in return, although you could tell it took him a lot to get the words out, his voice was horse and was followed with a small cough. He never took Copias hand. A few moments later the man announced that he had seen enough, and they turned and left. It left Copia confused by the whole situation, it was just strange, and something did not feel right about it. He was beginning to wonder if something were going on that nobody was telling him, it could be that the church had heard about his fights with Marco, and he was in trouble...  but he shrugged it off all the same. Whatever it is, I am sure it will reveal itself in time and as much as he hoped he wasn’t in trouble, there was no grantees. Copia sat back down and returned to his book. His mind racing from the interaction but the safety of the book lulling him back to comfort.

It wasn’t long until the door opened again. Copia didn’t look up from his book this time, he thought if he kept his head down, no one else would bother him.

In that moment Celestina came bounding over to him.

“Hi Copia, what are you doing?” she said sitting herself down next to him, grabbing his arm and tucking it in her own.

“Oh nothing, just reading... What else is there to do?” Copia responded with boredom in his voice.

“Well, if you're that bored… We could take a walk into the woods behind the church, its lovely outside…” Celestina suggested.

Copia looked up at her and met her smiling gaze. He didn’t want to leave the library in truth, but he wanted to spend some time with her while they had free time to do what they wanted. So, he nodded in agreement. “Okay, but we take lunch… I skipped breakfast” he said holding his rumbling stomach.

Celestina smiled a bright toothy smile back at him, as if she had just won a prize at the circus. “Yay... Okay, I’ll grab us some sandwiches... Meet you by the gate in half an hour?” she said standing to her feet and rushing out the library door before Copia could even answer. It made him smile. She was so sweet that even when he was having trouble keeping his thoughts straight, she was the perfect cure for it.  His short life had been a lonely one, and she made things feel less like he was alone in the world.

He got to his feet and peeked into his pocket to check on Ratto, fast asleep. He smiled. Popped his books back into their organised piles and walked out the library door towards the gates to meet Celestina.

He reached the gate and looked around; it was quiet out today. Even the birds sounded like they were taking a break from singing. The sun was high, and it was warm. The sun illuminating his pale skin and making his eyes sparkle more than they normally would. It was nice to feel the air on his skin, maybe Celestina was right, maybe this would be good for him. it wasn’t long until she arrived, whipping Copia out of his mind and back into her.

“Let's go…” she said with excitement “I've got sandwiches...” she tapped her pocket with a smile.

Copia wrapped his arm into hers and they set off walking into the woods. It wasn’t long until she was running ahead of him, balancing on rocks and hunting for whatever treasures the woods held within. She looked happy, in her element, and that made Copia happy. They found a small tree by the river to nestle under and it wasn’t long until they were discussing all the universe had to offer. Celestina pulled the sandwiches from her pocket and tossed a bundle over to Copia. They unpacked them and sat eating, celestina resting her head on Copias chest as they sat in silence listening to the world going by.

“Do you think it’s always going to be like this Copia?” she asked...

“Like what? What do you mean?” he replied, a small smile forming on his face.

“Us, together... Like this” she said in a quiet voice, obviously embarrassed by her confession.

Copias smile widened. “If that’s what you want. I’m here” he said pushing his hands through her hair, comforting her.

She looked up at him and her eyes widened, sparkling in the sunlight and she closed the gap between them. Their lips meeting for the first time, in a soft comforting embrace. In that moment the world faded away, and all Copia could think about was how they were going to take on the world together. Celestina, Ratto and him, together forever. They sat there till dusk talking about what they could do in the future. Copia holding her in his arms, thumbing circles into her wrist as they spoke.  They both knew that they wanted to stay within the satanic church, they both knew they wanted to continue their studies and that was enough for now, their relationship could blossom as they grew together.

As dusk approached, Copia wrapped his arms around Celestina and told her that it was time they headed back to the church before anyone reported them both missing. They picked themselves up out of the comfort of the bubble they had created and walked back towards the church, arriving as it was teatime and they headed to get there evening meal. Spaghetti. Copia thanked his lucky stars that it was his favourite and piled the spaghetti high. They sat together, enjoying the last few hours of the day before a sister approached them.

“Copia, are you finished? The cardinal needs to speak with you?” she said to him.

Copia looked at her in interest... “What does he want with me? Twice in one day? That’s more than I’ve seen him all month?” he questioned.

“I'm sure it’s nothing Copia, follow me” she said.

Copia got to his feet and looked back at Celestina with a sad smile, sad that today had ended in him being called away but praying to the dark lord that he wasn’t about to be shouted at for fighting.

They arrived at the Cardinals office and the sister looked at Copia, she had a sad smile on her face. He didn’t know why she would look at him like that… but he smiled back at her as he walked through the door.

“Copia, please... Come in, sit.”

Copia took a seat across the desk from the Cardinal.

“Cardinal, have I done something wrong?” he asked.

“No, no boy. Nothing wrong at all…” he put Copia's mind at ease.

“But I do have some news, as you remember this morning you met Papa Emeritus 2, he is the head of the satanic church, as I'm sure you are aware. I have been conversing with him about your studies and your interest in learning…

He’s requested that you be moved to the main abbey in Europe, and that you continue your studies there at the abbey”. the Cardinal announced...

Copias eyes widened... His thoughts racing a million miles an hour. “But what, what about my friends? What about Celestina?” Copia gasped out a reply.

“Your pet is yours to keep... But your friend Celestina, she is in our care and will remain so”.

“I can’t leave her... I can’t leave her here alone”. He said become distressed.

“Unfortunately, Copia, you have no choice in the matter. This is for the best. You leave tomorrow morning... I suggest you go and pack your things” the Cardinal answered becoming short with him.

“But, but... What's the hurry? But... but... Why me?”  Copia cried out, tears beginning to form in his eyes.

“Papa wants you there as soon as possible, so you can settle into your studies. You’re smart Copia, you should thank the dark lord that he has chosen this path for you. Now, go pack your things, I will send someone to collect you in the morning” The Cardinal answered.

“So, I don’t even get to say goodbye?” Copia asked him.

“This is a matter of urgency Copia...” he answered, ending the conversation.

Copia got to his feet and opened the door, leaving without another word... He did not think he would be able to muster another word anyway. Copia felt defeated, as though his world was collapsing around him. It appears the moment his life was starting to click into place that the universe had other ideas. It broke his heart to think that he could not say goodbye to Celestina, but the church would allow him to write to her at least. At least then he would be able to explain why after they had just shared their first kiss that he had disappeared. He did not want her to think this was his doing, he did not want her to think bad of him. He cared for her, and she was all he wanted.

He walked back to his dorm in silence, sniffling out a small cry and trying to hide his face from people he passed, he did not want them to see him like this, he didn’t want them to see him weak. He closed the dorm door behind him and stood with his back against the door. Looking around at his things and everything he had collected in his short life; it was all in this room.

He should be happy that the head of the satanic church has taken notice of him, that he was going somewhere his intelligence could be applied, where he could learn more than he ever thought possible, but he couldn’t be, he couldn’t be happy because he was leaving behind one of the only things in his life, he had grown close too.  Running his hands through his mousey brown hair he started to gather his books, his journals full of his studies and what little clothes he had. He collected Ratto’s box with his scarf inside. Laying down on his bed... Drifting into a deep slumber, complete exhaustion took over.

Copia woke in the middle of the night, dripping in sweat, the lingering nightmare he was having following him to his wake. Instead, it was not just his nightmare this time, it was his reality. What would have been a dream of a new life some months ago had now turned sour. He looked over at his clock, it had just passed mid-night. He sat up on the bed and looked across the room at his things that he had packed. The moon light casting a faint glow throughout the room, he sighed deeply and grabbed one of his journals and started to write.

C,

I am so sorry; they did not give me chance to come and say good-bye. They have moved me to the abbey in Europe to help me further my studies. Papa Emeritus has requested. I know its sudden. They would not let me stay; I did try but the cardinal would not listen. I will try to write when I get to the abbey. I promise I will not forget about you; I will come back for you, I promise.

C

He teared out the page and folding it into a small little square and wrote a big C on the front, he stood for a moment thumbing the pages as if she would somehow feel his comfort. He began digging through his books, he found the copy of Dante’s Inferno and placed it in the pages. He knew she would look for something that reminded her of                                        him, he knew she would remember when she laughed at him for reading Dante’s Inferno and right now, he could only think of the time she helped clean his wounds after a beating from Marco. She was smart enough; He was sure she would find it. He lay back down on his bed and placed the book on his chest and as he did, he drifted back off to sleep.

Morning soon came with a rough knock on the door, it did not sound like the regular sister that would normally arrive if they needed something. Copia lifted his head and brushed his hair out of his face...

“Come in…”

a tall figure walked into the room, masked... He looked at Copia as if he were examining him.

“Excuse me, I’m here to collect your things” the ghoul said to him.

“Oh… “Copia said and looked over at his things.

The ghoul nodded and picked up his things in one swoop, it looked pitiful that all he had was a bag and a box of books to his name.

Copia sighed as the ghoul looked back at him.

“Don’t worry, you’re going to be fine.” the ghoul said to him trying to smile but it wound up looking a little concerning. Like a wounded animal, more than a smile. The ghoul looked young for a ghoul, maybe he was just getting used to being earthside.

Copia looked up at him and tried to smile back.

“Are you ready??” The ghoul said to Copia as Copia straightened his clothes…

“Si, Si… Let us go” Copia said as he walked over to his desk, placing the book down. Knowing full well that one of the sisters would come in and take it back to its rightful place. He knew Celestina, He knew she would find it.

He followed the ghoul through the church and out towards a black car that looked statelier and grander than he had ever seen before. Nobody came to greet him or say goodbye. He took one last look at the church, taking in every small detail, gazing at the windows as if to see Celestina appear.

The ghoul opened the car door and Copia got inside. The ghoul got into the front of the car and looked back at Copia in the mirror, started the engine and off they set off into Copias new life. Copia had left the place he called home for all his life, he was off somewhere new… somewhere he did not know, somewhere he knew no one. His stomach churned and the thought made him feel sick.

When they arrived at the airport, Copia noticed again that the plane they were using was not a normal plane that would carry hundreds of passengers, of course he had never flown in a plane, but this was small, a private charter. They were certainly going out of their way for a small orphan boy, Copia thought to himself. He settled into his seat and after the ghoul had loaded his belongings, he sat across from Copia as the plane took off.

Copia looked at the ghoul who was eyeing him through his mask, he thought this might be a suitable time to strike up conversation.

“So, what’s your name?” he asked the ghoul.

The ghouls’ eyes narrowed, and he smiled “Oh that doesn’t matter…”

Copia felt shot down and looked down at his hands.

The ghoul noticed “Really, its ok. you do not need to know. Just call me ghoul...” He laughed.

Copia looked back up at him... “A nameless ghoul? Don’t you want your own identity?” he smiled…

The ghoul just smiled back him and Copia got the hint and pulled out his book, His small rat running out onto his knee, looking for comfort.

“Oh, what’s that, a stow away?” The ghoul said eyeing the small rodent.

“This is my friend, Ratto. He is my little travel companion” Copia said looking down at the small brown rat.

“Would he like a cracker?” The ghoul said, pulling out a packet of crackers from thin air.

“I’m sure he would love that...”  Copa smiled at the ghoul, taking the cracker from him.

Copia broke up the cracker into little pieces and placed it on his lap, where Ratto tucked into his breakfast. He picked his book back up and started to read, glancing every now and then back at the Ghoul who’s eyes where transfixed on the rat. After a few hours the plane came to a halt, they had landed. Copia looked out of the small window to see the same type of car waiting. He placed Ratto back in his pocket with the remaining crumbs of the cracker. They climbed into the black car, and they set off again.

 It was evening by the time they arrived at the abbey, it was starting to get dark. The outside of the abbey was very well lit, it looked like something you would see in a gothic painting Copia thought to himself. A high pointed window with stained glass depicting Lucifers fall from heaven, letting its colours spill out into the front court of the abbey, it looked stunning, and he was amazed. He was a far cry away from the orphanage now, and he could tell.

#the band ghost #ghost fandom #ghost #ghost fanfiction #ghost bc #cardinal copia #papa copia #papa emeritus 4 #young copia #ghost fan fiction #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom #ghost the band #ghost ghouls #nameless ghouls #please don't hate me #ao3 fanfic #ao3feed #ao3 link #ao3 writer #archive of our own

[cosmica-galaxy]

Yo how abt Crackpot? How would he react if the player was having a bby??

Oooo! Interesting. I may forewarn you, I haven’t played the game yet. So I don’t know how Dr. Crackpot officially acts, I just get my information on all the characters from the wiki.

Apologies in advance for any inaccuracies! -- Tw: Pregnancy and non-descriptive birth mentioned ahead! Crackpot is a sugar-coated nut, though!

+Player has fem bits but is gender neutral +Set in Salty’s Self Aware AU

–

You don’t exactly know how you fell for this lunatic, but you knew very well how he fell for you. As you were a god among all Nevadeans, it was no surprise that Phobo’s closest underling would…exuberant similar behaviors as the director. As such, you still wonder how you fell for such a nutjob. Maybe he was good at smooth talking…or he was good at manipulation…or maybe you just dig the absolutely insane types.

Regardless of whichever the reasons were, you had still managed to get knocked up by this raving lunatic. When you tell him the news, the ‘buoyant one’ lets out loud praises and announces it to his cult immediately, encouraging a loud and harmonious cheer to come from the fanatics that made up your underground community.

He holds you close as he could as the fanatics let out hoots and hollers as he gives your head a loving nuzzle and he begins to make a new announcement about the inevitable arrival of the new god. Which you merely let out a couple of sighs in response, from exasperation at his enthusiasm or from embarrassment at him basically screaming that he knocked you up to anyone that had ears to listen with.

In the first trimester, Crackpot behaves similarly to Phobos. Making a new place for you two to nest in as he orders the fanatics to make the place as clean as possible and to fetch new supplies for him to make an altar. You could only watch on the sidelines as your nutjob lover goes ham on the decoration and the floor planning.

He makes the younglings room first. Fitting it with a crib that was decorated with little lights that were similar to the ones on his back, a changing station, a little metallic bookcase, and various numerous stuffed toys. One of which just happened to share the appearance of a zed. Crackpot even tried to make it look a little more regal, with various objects that were ‘gifts’ from the fanatics and precious metals that were dug up from the surrounding mines.

You even tried to help out by adding some paintings and making some clean clothes and sheets from your strings. Slowly stitching them together while Crackpot continues to spruce the place up and has his minions apply special supports for the newly added room. Even trying to make it much more of a reasonable ‘living space’ that you both will live in together as Crackpot directs the fanatics with an almost artistic fashion.

During your midterms, Crackpot is growing more and more elated and excited by the day. You can’t seem to get a break from his loving overzealous kissing and affectionate frisky behavior. As you grow flustered and laugh lightly in response to his eagerness that…strangely reminded you of a dog. Just how much he was praising you and constantly doting on you in your later stages was enough to make you blush in response.

Crackpot manages to finish up the living quarters that you both will be sharing. Cuddling up to you in your large shared bed, but leaving his head down close to your belly. Sometimes you could swear you can hear him whispering adoringly to your belly as he even prayed to it sometimes. It was a tad bit creepy, but you were used to his zealot of a personality. Just another quirk that can be added to your lover's personality. He already called himself a ‘father’ to his followers. So maybe him being an actual father wouldn’t be any different.

He also went above and beyond to make sure that you had all that you needed in ways of nutrition and support and protection. The zeds were always around and you pretty much got used to them, but you were still constantly wary of what they could do to either you or your new youngling. So crackpot makes sure to keep the zeds a bit more distant from his family in an effort to appease your anxious worries.

A little bit further in and you were getting that urge to nest and Crackpot worked on getting a birthing place set up. Unlike a typical medical wing, Crackpot made the delivery chamber look more like an…altar. With a place where you would lay to give birth and surrounding pools of water and various tables with symbols carved on them. Again, you expected this. This was Crackpot, who is not a necessarily sane individual. It reminded you of the game ‘Outlast 2’ from your original dimensions, just less religious themed and more cult-heavy. Which was kinda cool, you surmised.

Crackpot just took in the pride that you approved of the “medical” wing of the community before he got back to sending out his fanatics to search for supplies that would be used to bring the new demi-god into the world of Nevada.

Then, the due date arrives.

You were pretty much escorted to the “medical” wing after Crackpot was awoken to the sound of you stirring awake and whimpering loudly before you let out a couple of cries of pain. Crackpot immediately jumps into action and carries you to the delivery area, laying you on the centerpiece of the altar as he runs to awaken his priest-bound children.

The moment the priests and prophets arrived following Crackpot loyally, you were going into full scale labor. Crackpot takes control of the situation, leading his followers to the side as some even say out a couple of chants as you continue the process.

The situation was strange yet exhilarating as you take rapid breaths and Crackpot gives you loving encouragement to continue to bring the little god into the world. By the time you were finished with the process, you were laid out on the soft altar, looking at the grunts that surrounded you who finished their chants as Crackpot cleans up the new arrival.

A quick dunk in warm water and a rapid wrapping of the infant in the ceremonial-looking cloth that Crackpot made a few days beforehand…then all was still. The prophets all hold their places as they look at their leader, just as he stands tall once more with the little bundle in his arms.

Crackpot focuses his green-lit eyes onto the swaddled little one, finally taking a moment to calm down from the delivery to pull the cloth back. Revealing the infant’s face.

The lights in the room revealed that they had sparkling gray skin and they also had special glowing green markings that were decorated throughout their little body that gave them the appearance that they were tattooed. He silently leans down and nuzzles his little one with his mask, rousing them from their slumber as they blink open their droopy eyes that radiate with the player’s iridescent colors. The little one looks up at him in a sleepy and curious manner.

Crackpot feels his ego and pride grow as he looks at the healthy little godling in his hands, to which he glances around the room and motions with his head to open the large double doors that close off the entrance to the “medical” wing. The prophets moved and wordlessly opened the door that led back to the outside, which to your surprise was crowded around by the rest of the fanatic community.

You see Crackpot take the little one and slip them into the little glowing onesie you made with your strings, before carrying them away towards the door. You were growing more worried by the moment, but then you see him stop before the large crowd at the entrance, and your lover holds out your infant child in a manner similar to Simba from ‘The Lion King’.

“THE NEW GOD HAS ARRIVED!!” Crackpot announces and holds your baby up high, then the large crowd of fanatics let out numerous cheers and praises as your little one simply looks at them all in a confused but entertained manner.

You could only sit back and relax as you were still tired from the long process of delivering the young one, barely tuning into what Crackpot was saying about the future of the fanatics being bright now that he had an heir. You could only roll your eyes at his enthusiasm.

You barely take notice of his approach to your side, which causes you to jump a bit in response to his nuzzling affection as he shows you the child.

“You did amazing, my player. You’ve given the buoyant one a future for all his children.” He mutters to you as he gives you a kiss. “Thank you, my lord.” He purrs as you nuzzle him back.

The child is pretty much raised by not just Crackpot, but the whole village that makes up the fanatic community. Crackpot is a hand-on father that makes sure to try and teach the child the importance of immortality and being a god with god-like duties.

Wherever the kid goes, they’re worshiped by the fanatics. Which has given them quite an ego. You, thankfully, are there to keep them from going too far down the rabbit hole of god-hood like their father. You teach them that they’re more of a demi-god than an actual god, because their father is a mortal.

You also teach them that, yes, they can bring back the ones they care about…but only if they can inherit it from your powers. As you said before, they’re only a demi-god. Whatever powers they get from you are the powers they’re stuck with.

So while Crackpot is an influence on the child, being a good one or a bad one is up for his player to decide. Meanwhile, you keep him from becoming a spoiled brat and to keep their ego in check, while also keeping them in the realm of Nevada’s reality and not Crackpot’s version of Nevada.

Crackpot adores his kid, but he may adore them too much and has a little bit of manipulation in store for them. Thankfully, the player is stronger in their influence and has much more reasonable guidance to give the little one.

#human!reader x madcom #madcom x reader #y/n x madness combat #madness combat x reader #madcom tag #self aware m:pn au #madcom self aware au #madness combat self aware au #self aware au #my writings #cosmica-galaxy #haxorus imp #papa!grunts au

[sayuricorner]

Rise of the TMNT X TFA: Former cybertronian gladiator!Splinter(Lou Jitsu) AU: One-shot 1 - A Blast From the Past (Megatron’s version)

Hamato family’s cybertronian forms       One-shot 2: A Blast From the past (Splinter’s version)

AU concept

Warning : English is not my first language so sorry if it's confusing ! 😅  

Hi everyone! Here’s a one-shot I wrote for the AU! ^^

This one-shot will be about Megatron’s past with Lou Jitsu in the gladiatorial arena! Hope you’ll like it! ^^

(And I hope I get the characters’s personality right or didn’t at least wrote them too OOC! T_T)

If you want to use this AU go ahead, just tag/credite me in return please! ^^

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

“-My glorious lord! We just got a report from General Strika on team Chaar’s mission!” Lugnut announced to the warlord.

“-A report you say…” Megatron said from his throne.”Show it to me!”

“-Right away oh Lord Megatron!” The cybertronian cyclops exaggeratedly bowed before going toward the monitors to activate them.

The video showed General Strika with a grave expression on her face.

Megatron frowned, Strika was a femme who was always serious but when she had this expression this mean things didn't go as planned.

"-Greetings Lord Megatron ! This with displeasure and regret that I announce you that the mission to secure the Space bridge end up in a failure due to unexpected interferences!" Strika exclaimed.

Megatron frowned at this statement, "unexpected interferences"? What could it been? From what Shockwave reported to him only a little team of Autobots was in the sector, nothing that a team like team Chaar couldn't handle! Did those blasted Autobots used some new secret weapon that even his best spy wasn't able to find out about?

"-On the mission, we were engaging against the autobots team, team Athenia, and tried to secured the space bridge!” The video continue.”But then four unknown mechs appeared out of nowhere and attacked our team using fighting techniques we didn’t recognised!”

This statement confused Megatron, “unknown mechs using unknown fighting techniques”.

“-With those unknown mechs and the autobot team getting the upper hand we got not other choice but to retreat!” Strika explained, her faceplates becoming sourer.”In the name of all team Chaar I’m expressing to you my deepest apologies for this failure! As general I accept the responsibility of the failure of this mission! We are now heading back to the headquarters and will be waiting for your next orders my lord! I also send with this report the video surveillance of the ship’s exteriors which show the mechs who attacked us! Strika out!”

As the video shut down, Megatron just stand on his throne frowning.

“-Blitzwing! Show me the recordings that general Strika send!” The warlord ordered.

“-Yes Lord Megatron!” The triple-changer obeyed and turned on the video records.

Megatron stared at the now playing recording, it was showing team Chaar fighting an autobot team, the decepticon team seemed to get the upper hand until four mechs suddenly attacked the decepticon team, just like Strika said in her report. 

The warlord's Eyes narrowed at the video, those mechs didn't appear to belong to any faction as they didn't seem to wear any factions symbol which mean they’re more than certainly neutrals, they looked rather young, probably barely younglings, their group was composed of both warframes and civilframes, a rather strange composition as warframes and civilframes being willingly in the same team was rare, even for neutrals…

The mysterious mechs shared similar green and brown paint jobs and each of them had a color specific to them.

The tallest of the group, a car warframe, had red, the second warframe, a copter, had purple, the first civilframe, a car, had blue and the last one, a civilframe and minibot, orange.

But what get Megatron’s attention was their way of fighting.

It wasn’t any kind of cybertronian combat style he saw before!

And yet… It was familiar…

Keeping looking at the recording with more attention, Megatron then noticed a symbol on the mysterious mechs’s chest plates.

A circle divided into five slices with a dot on each slice.

Megatron’s optics went wide, those combat techniques, this symbol…

“-Lou Jitsu?...” Megatron whispered in shock.

At the mention of the name, both Lugnut and Blitzwing quickly turned from the monitors toward their lord, Lugnut’s optic was wide in surprise as well as Blitzwing’s.

Megatron just stood here in silent, still staring in shock at the still playing video.

“-My lord?” Blitwing Icy’s confused voice broked Megatron from his shock.

The warlord regained his composure and quickly get up from his throne.

“-I’m retiring in my quarters! Do not bother me unless it’s important!” Megatron ordered in a, strangely, calm voice.

“-Yes(glorious) lord Megatron!” Both Blitzwing and Lugnut answered as Megatron left the throne room.

Once he entered in his quarters, Megatron reflected in silence on what he just so.

He then got remindings of his youth during his times as a gladiator long time ago, when his life took an unexpected turn, when he met HIM.

(Flashbacks)

He remember the gladiatorial arena, the smell of dust and energon, the cheers of the crowd, the constant fights, the imposing presence of the area master…

As long as he could remember, this was all the things he knew in his early days, fighting as a gladiator and fighting for his survival for the entertainment of the crowd and the arena master.

The gladiatorial arena he was in was a very harsh environment where only the strongest survive and the weakest beat the dust.

This is in this environment that one day HE appeared.

A blue and orange car civilframe with a symbol of a circle divided in five slices on his chaste plate, wearing ridiculously big stylized yellow glasses and harboring a smile full of determination and arrogance.

When he first arrived, Megatron didn’t paid him much mind, didn’t even really bother to remember his designation, nobody in the gladiatorial arena did, civilframes never lasted long as gladiators, they were way too weak and not build up to face warframes and in everyone’s optics this civilframe wasn’t going to make exception. 

That’s was until the new comer’s first fight, during which they realized how wrong they were.

Megatron remember how shocked he was when this civilframe, this very small civilframe compared to the gigantic warframe he was facing, beat his opponent with a ridiculous ease and using fighting techniques he never saw before.

It reminded him a bit of the ninjabots fighting style but at the same time it was different.

And with this way of fighting, the civilframe was able to easily take down his opponent like it was nothing.

Like he was invincible!

Since this moment, the civilframe’s designation was in everyone’s mouth: Lou Jitsu!

A strange designation for a cybertronian.

Megatron, although impressed by Lou Jitsu’s abilities, haven’t tried to talk to him, in the gladiatorial arena it’s was everyone for themself, gladiators weren’t up for such things like “Comraderies” and were rather messing with each other.    

However, Primus seemed to had other plans as one particularly event brang Megatron to get to know Lou Jitsu.

He was in one of the training rooms preparing himself for his next fight, he have been a gladiator for a good time now and was beginning to build himself a notoriety as a gladiator as was even on good tracks to become one of the arena master’s “champions”.

However, this also made him a target for the other gladiators.

For gladiators being a champion was the ticket for glory with “luxurious advantages”, Megatron always thought those to be a bad joke. What is the use of glory and luxury in the detriment of freedom? But it wasn’t like he had any choice, none of the gladiators had.

By so, a lot of them were ready to do anything to level up their chances to become one even to the point of putting the dirtiest stunts.

Which is why that day, Megatron have been beat up by two other gladiators who profited from him being alone in the training room to take him by surprise.

The young gladiator tried to face them, unfortunately, due to the surprise ambush the two aggressors didn’t let him the time to fight back and were even laughing at him and taunted him for “his weakness” as he was heavily injured by their punches.

“-Ah! Not so great now, are we Megatron?” One laughed.

“-Look at him! Looking like his is about to “break apart”!” The other joined before smiling sinisterly.”How about we test how much his body can take? I’m sure once he is in bits the arena master will gladly remove him as a potential champion! Weaklings are no use among gladiators after all!”

His accomplice grinned at the suggestion.

“-Good idea! Let's see if he is this tough!”

Megatron tried to free himself as one of the gladiators lift him and trapped him with his arms as the other was in front of him and was getting ready to begin to throw the punches.

Megatron just gritted his dentas and stared at the gladiator in defiance, he wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction of showing he was in pain! they could hit as hard as they want, he will not break down!

He. Wasn’t. Weak!

But as Megatron was getting ready for the first impacts, a small hand, very small compared to the gladiators, was grabbing the gladiator’s in front of Megatron hand, stopping him from punching Megatron.

“-Now, now! Is this really how you should treat one of your gladiator comrades?” A familiar voice with a foreign accent playfully asked.

Right there was standing Lou Jitsu holding the gladiator’s in front of Megatron fist with a surprisingly strong grip and looking at the three of them with a smirk.

The two aggressor stared at the civilframe gladiator before the one who Lou Jitsu was holding the fist frowned and scold.

“-Tch! None of your business Lou Jitsu So if I were you I’ll go bother somebody else!” 

The second aggressor then tried to pull away his fist, only to realise that no matter how strong he would pull, Lou Jitsu kept a strong grip on his fist.

“-You know…” The civilframe started in a strangely calm tone.”I am someone who don’t usually lose his temper very easily, despite what I show of me, I’m open minded and comprehensible and know when to had some common sense…”

For some reason this was begin to make feel the two aggressors very uneasy, Megatron swore he could feel the atmosphere becoming very thick and almost unbearable.

“-But if there’s one thing I hate it’s cowards who use such shameful tricks to get what they want even if it’s mean attacking and hurting others, so here’s how it will go!”

The three other gladiators’s optics became wide at the darker and threatening tone in Lou Jitsu’s voice.

Ever since his arrival in the gladiatorial arena, the civilframe had always be nonchalant and easy going, no bot ever saw him angry, or at least “angry serious”.

“-Either you will let him go WITHOUT making any kind of damages and leave without making a fuss… Or you decide to be stubborn and I’ll gladly show you what I do to the lot like you!” Lou Jitsu warned as he cracked his knuckles.

Megatron stared at the scene in apprehension, like everyone else in the arena, those two idiots witnessed Lou Jitsu’s fights, they knew what he is capable of when he is his nonchalant self would they be stupid enough to take the risk to try to take on him when he is this unusually serious?

The response came quickly as he felt “idiot N°1” quickly drop him on the floor and leave the training room with “idiot N°2” as if they were chased by scraplets.

Groaning a a bit in pain from the beating from earlier, Megatron was about to get up when he saw Lou Jitsu, having once again his confident smirk on his face, right in front of him and extending a servo to him to help him to get up.

Although wary, Megatron took the servo and easily got up.

…Just how strong was this civilframe?

“-Well, I think those two will not bother you for a good while! Not with the scare I gave them!” Lou Jitsu laughed.”Anyway, you alright there buddy?”

“-... Nothing that I couldn’t handle…”Megatron answered stoically.

“-Eh! I guess so!” The civilframe laughed before extending his servo in salutation.”Megatron right? I don’t think we really introduced each other! I’m Lou Jitsu nice to meet you!”

The gladiator stared confused at the civilframe’s friendliness for a few minutes before ending up returning his salutation gesture and shaking his servo.

“-So am I!”

From this meeting, Megatron and Lou Jitsu crossed paths more than one time as if fate wanted to make sure they would interact as much as possible.

The greediness of the arena master even made them “roommates” much to Megatron’s annoyance.

If one would ask him from his few “meetings”, Megatron found Lou Jitsu… Rather annoying!

The civilframe was abrasive, arrogant, over-confident and on top of that: He. Wouldn’t. Stop. Talking!

And he was forced to share his “dorm room”, his only space of peace, with him.

For hours Lou Jitsou would talk about his “homeworld” about how he was apparently a celebrity, a “very talented one” in his own words, how he get in “this world” thanks to a weird artifact and how a misunderstanding lead him to become gladiator among a lot of other things about himself in a very abrasive manner.

Megatron was doing his best to just half listen to him and honestly he was wondering how much of what he was saying was actually true.

Then, one day, Lou Jitsu found out some of his poems.

For a long time, he found himself a passion for writing, especially poetry and had wrote a bunch of them some were about space, the flora and fauna of Cybertron and also about an utopia of Cybertron where everybot could be what they want to be regardless of their frame type.

This was, however, a hobby he kept a secret and his writing hidden in his “room”, having been constantly denigrated in the past as “a warframe has no place being an artist nor an intellectual”.

So when Lou Jitsu found out some his writing, Megatron expected to be laughed at.

What he didn’t expected, however, was to get genuine compliments from the civilframe for his writing.

Lou Jitsu actually liked his poetry and even said he had a great potential…

He didn’t know what to think about it…

Since then every time he would write something, Lou Jitsu would insist on reading, the civilframe would be excited when learning Megatron wrote something new, he would even reading it out loud, reciting it in a theatrical manner.

One thing he could give to Lou Jitsu is that he was a good speaker, listening to him reciting his readings was very entertaining, more appreciable than listening to his bragging anyway.

“-You know, your writing is very good!” He remember Lou Jitsu tell him one day.”Maybe when you’ll be able to leave the gladiatorial arena you could try to publish your work?”

“-Really? You think a warframe would have a chance to be published?” He asked sceptical.

“-Pffha, that’s bollocks! Let me tell you one thing Megs! If a civilframe like me can kick the aft of warframes way bigger than me, you, a warframe, is capable to write amazing writings and get recognition for it! I mean those poems are proofs of it! As your friend I’m telling you this: you had a big potential as an author and you shouldn’t let frame prejudices keep you to develop this potential!”

This statement put Megatron into a lot of thinking, never in his existence somebot actually encouraged him to do what he wanted despite his frame type, it was confusing and… Kind of nice?

And “friends”? Lou Jitsu saw him as such? He doesn’t really remember what happened nor when it happened which made them “friends”, he didn’t recall anything special happening which made Lou Jitsu see him as a friend… Was Lou Jitsu just the kind of bot with who it was easy to become friend with?

Truly, Lou Jitsu was a mech very hard to understand!

As time passed, the two have gone through a lot of battles becoming famous champions in the gladiators world, the arena master even put them in co-op fights for more entertaining fights.

One of those fights made them face Lugnut back when he was known as the gladiator, the “Kaon Krusher”.

The fight has been rough, even back then Lugnut had always known to be very brutal, however Lou Jitsu and him have been able to take him down and win the fight.

He always wondered if they didn’t had damaged to cybertronian cyclop’s processor as ever since the fight Lugnut idolized them both, particularly Megatron, putting them on a pedestal and showering them in admiration and praises much to Megatron’s embarrassment and Lou Jitsu’s amusement.

During those times he also get to learn more about Lou Jitsu, where he was from, what he was, thought, he don’t know if everything the civilframe told him was true… Because, an organic who became a cybertronian? Seriously?

There has been nights during which he also got to see his "hidden" side

During those nights, he would find himself bringing an overcharged Lou Jitsu, by high grade gifted by fans, back to their dorm room after finding him lying down in the middle of the battle Arena and "stargazing".

In those Lou Jitsu would blather a ton of confusing things like how Megatron was "the best buddy he ever had" or "if he ever had kids one day he will make him their godfather" whatever all those worlds mean.

He would also sometimes becoming suddenly sad and burst into cries about "family sacrifices" and "his regrets" and would trap Megatron in a tight hug.

The young gladiator would just awkwardly let him do it, he wasn't able to get him to let him go anyway, until the civilframe passed out.

Thanks Primus, all this happened sometimes at night and in their dorm room, Megatron didn't know if he would have survived the eternal embarrassment if anyone saw them during those moment.

He was also very grateful that Lou Jitsu always acted the next day as if anything which happened the night before didn't happen.

As Time passed and the two's nautoriety as gladiators became bigger, Megatron's distaste for Cybertron's society growed bigger and bitter.

He standed less and less the way warframes like him were treated and wished more than anything than to overthrone this foolish government and crush them under his peds.

He began to write more revolutionary essays against the autobots politics, against the class system and preachings about freedom for all warframes which lead him to write his most important work.

"-"Towards Peace" uh?" Lou Jitsu commented as he read the title of his latest work."Well, let's see how it's goes!" He added with a smirk.

As he startled reading the text the way he always had done, Megatron smirked as he listened the civilframe.

He was quite proud of his work and the more he hear Lou Jitsu recite it, the more confident he became about his convictions to get rid off the current cybertronian society and it oppressive system.

“-”Be happy in your work, they say, for it enriches you. Be grateful for your alt mode, for it defines you. Be thankful for the system-it protects you. Be mindful of your betters- they think for you. I say enough. Reject your work. Reject your alt mode. Resist the system and your “betters”? You have none. We are all equals. And we have a right to decide how to live our lives.” Megs, this is amazing! Probably one of your best writings!”

“-Thank you! I’m quite happy with the text myself!” Megatron nodded.”Though, it’s only a first step of what I want to accomplish, if I am out of there one day, I plan to shake Cybertron to it’s core and eradicate all this oppressive class system and change everything for the best of the cybertronian kind!” He explained stoically.

“-You had big ambitions, I can tell! As for getting out of here, well, I would be you I wouldn’t say“if”, in fact getting out of there should happen really quickly!” Lou Jitsu cryptically said.

“-What do you mean?” Megatron asked confused.

“-Oh you’ll see! Just wait my fight against Bonecrusher tomorrow!”

The fight against Bonecrusher, he would never forget this fight.

In this time, gladiatorial fights were losing popularity and were on the verge of disappearing, so, in a desperate move to revive the gladiatorial fights and keep his arena alive, the arena master decided organized a big event, a fight between two massive champions: Lou Jitsu and one of the biggest champion of gladiators, Skullcrusher.

And to spice the event, the arena master added an award: the winner of the fight will be granted freedom and one wish that the arena master will grant no matter what it is.

At the time Lou Jitsu’s cryptic words confused Megatron, he couldn’t understand what the civilframe’s fight against Skullcrusher had to do with him getting his freedom back.

The response only came the day of the fight.

In the arena the fight intense, the public was over-excited as Lou Jitsu and Skullcrusher fought with an extreme violence while Megatron and the other gladiators were looking from the “backstage”, which was just a fancy word for the brigs build around the arena.

Lou Jitsu seemed to had difficulties despite holding up well the pace, which was not really surprising.

Skullcrusher was known to be an extremely violent gladiator who was rumored to be so brutal with his adversaries that he even reduce their bodies to dust which grant him his designation.

Then suddenly, Lou Jitsu got trapped in Skullcrusher’s grasp, everyone on the arena was holding back their breath at the sight of the giant gladiator tightening his grip, menacing to break the civilframe into bits at any moment.

But, as everybot thought this was the end, Lou Jitsu then let out a cry which is still marked in everybot’s CPU to this day.

“-HOT SOUP!!!” The yell resonated in all the arena as Lou Jitsu suddenly freed himself from Skullcrusher’s grip with an newfound strength.

His adversary, shocked by this turn of event, tried to attack again only to be caught short by Lou Jitsu who hit him with a gigantic strength with a metal bar which was in the arena.

Everybot could only stare in shock and amazement as the civilframe fought Skullcrusher with a power which was nothing like they ever saw before, Lou Jitsu was stronger, faster and more agile and was fighting with the most mundane things which fall in his servo and turned them into deadly weapons.

Finally, when a beaten up Skullcrusher fall on the arena’s floor, the verdict came up.

Lou Jitsu won.

At the victory, the public exploded in joyce, celebrating Lou Jitsu’s victory’s, even the other gladiators were celebrating.

In the whole arena could be hear Lou Jitsu’s name in acclaim over and over.

This was until the arena master make sign to the public to calm down and then standed up toward Lou Jitsu with a solemn expression.

“-Gladiator Lou Jitsu!” The arena master announced.”You had fought and defeated the gladiator Skullcrusher in one of the most impressive battles that this arena got the honor to hold! As promised to you and all the bots present today, you are rewarded with freedom and the right to ask for ONE wish! Anything you’ll ask for! So tell me great champion, what does your spark desire for?”

The whole arena got silent, everybot was waiting in anticipation what Lou Jitsu’s wish would be.

The civilframe smirked at the arena master and after a few seconds of silence begin to speak.

“-Arena master…” Lou Jitsu begin, the tension was getting thicker on what the wish could be.

This is when Lou Jitsu announced what will change the whole cybertronian society forever.

“-I, Lou Jitsu, wish for all the gladiators to had their freedom back and that each of them receive a good monetary compensation for all the time they were forced to fight in this arena!”

Megatron remember how shocked everybot was, him included when Lou Jitsu announced his wish, nobot expected him to make this kind of demand.

This was when Megatron realized.

This was what Lou Jitsu meant the night before, he planned to use his wish to free him, to free all of them.

The arena master tried to refuse the wish which didn’t surprised Megatron at all, the scumbag would rather drop deactivated than giving away his “business”.

What Megatron haven’t expected was for the audience beginning to protest the refusal.

First the protest begin with a young blue and white bot who looked like he was from the autobot academy, then others in the audience joined in and soon after the whole audience was protesting and booing at the arena master.

With the pressure of the protests, the arena master got no other choice but to give in and granting Lou Jitsu’s wish provoking the audience to burst into celebration, scanding Lou Jitsu’s name and were soon joined by the other gladiators, Megatron surprised himself joined them as well.

After all that all the gladiators were able to leave with a compensation like promised, the arena master have been fuming as all his gladiators left but there was nothing he could have done to stop them without taking the risk to feel the wrath of one them, especially Lou Jitsu’s.

This was when Lou Jitsu and Megatron parted ways, it has been weird for him after all the time Lou Jitsu and him have hanged out together, he could even tell he was… A bit sad to say “goodbye” to the mech who he saw as a “friend”.

Both, especially Lou Jitsu, wished good luck to each other for the future, Lou Jitsu with his quest to “find a way home” and Megatron for his “projects to change Cybertron for the better”.

He remember the last thing he say as they parted way.

“-Knock them dead Megs!” Lou Jitsu had said to him before leaving primus know where.

Time passed and Lou Jitsu was never saw nor here from again, but the civilframe gladiator definitely marked Cybertron’s history and was now known as a hero.

Time passed and Megatron trying to bring changes to Cybertron became bitter from the injustice of the system, seeing that reason wasn’t getting him anywhere, Megatron realized that violent means was the only solution, if the society didn’t wanted to change then he was going to force them to by conquering them.

This is when he joined the Decepticons, this is when he challenged and defeated that Megazarak fool and took his place as the leader of the Decepticons.

This is when he went from Megatron the gladiator to become Megatron the warlord of the Decepticons!

(Flashback end)

“-Mein lord do jou receive me?” Blitzwing’s voice from the warlord’s communicator interrupted Megatron’s reflection.

“-What is it? I ordered to not be bothered unless it was important!” Megatron asked irritated.

“-My deepest apologies lord Megatron! But ve just get an alert from ze spy scatelites! Four unknown mechs have been spotted on Earth and seem to fit general Ztrika’s description of ze mechs vho attacked her team!”

“-... I see… I’m coming right now Lugnut and you prepared yourself and wait for me! We will give those mechs a “welcoming committee”!”

“-At jour orders mein lord! Oooooh a velcoming committee? Iz there gonna had a party? I love parties! Especially zhose involving bloving up other mechs to bits! ahahaha” Blitzwing’s random persona commented as Megatron closed the line.

Megatron’s thoughts went back on the mysterious mechs and their potential connection with Lou Jitsu, it was a very long time since the last time Lou Jitsu was even heard of and he often wondered what he could have became. Could those mechs had a real connection with the former civilframe gladiator? Was this just a coincidence?

But if it’s turn out to not be a coincidence and those mechs truly know Lou Jitsu, would the presence of those mechs mean that Lou Jitsu was back?

This is something Megatron will have to find out, he was curious about what Lou Jitsu had became after all this time and deep down, he wouldn’t been against to see him again.

However, a traitorous little voice keep ringing in his CPU one single thought, a thought that the warlord was trying to ignore as he left his quarters.

“But would Lou Jitsu be happy to see you again after he learn what you became?” 

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

TAG list:

@roseofdarkness0 , @skyite , @skatermusic

#transformers #transformers animated #TFA #Rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt #rottmnt au #tfa au #rottmnt splinter #lou jitsu #megatron #crossover #one-shot #oneshot #fanfiction #fanfic #maccadam #au idea

[penguinwriter24]

Chapter 15 : My Happy Ending? [ EN ]

TW : mention of torture ( no graphic, tho ) should be it. If I forgot something tell me.

--

Dahlia

Dahlia had attended Edmund's coronation. She had been in the front row and without really knowing why, she had cried throughout the coronation. She was just so happy for him and she had to express it somehow.

“His Majesty King Edmund the Just.” announced Glenstorm.

Everyone bowed to the new King of Narnia. Edmund smiled when the Narnians present straightened up, then he sat down on the only throne present. Dahlia could tell from her attitude that Edmund found this really strange. She could easily guess why, the last time he was in this room, Peter, Lucy and Susan were with him going to be crowned and there he was all alone on the dais.

After the ceremony, there would be a reception, like a ball. It had been Dahlia's idea to change everyone's minds a bit. For the time of an evening, the Narnians would forget the horrors of battle and return to some semblance of normalcy. All the people had been invited, not a single person or creature had been excluded.

Dahlia was locked in her room, she had washed up and she just had on a long white shirt whilst she was searching for the perfect outfit to please Edmund.

“No, not the pink one. Edmund doesn’t like pink.” she was thinking aloud.

The dress was a light pink color, it fell slightly to the shoulders with a thin fabric, the sleeves came to the elbow and the same thin fabric completed the rest of the sleeve. The bodice was different from other dresses she owned, this one had buttons down the front to close it. She had a simple petticoat that reached to the floor. There was a small train behind. The dress was simple but beautiful. Besides, it was Dahlia's favorite dress.

“In fact, Edmund doesn't like pink when it's on anyone other than you. When it's sure you, on the other hand, Edmund really likes it.”

Dahlia jumped and turned when she heard Edmund's voice echoing in her room. Dahlia put her hand to her chest, as if doing so would help her heartbeat slow down.

“You scared me!”

“Sorry.” Edmund laughed lightly.

So Dahlia took the pink dress and put it in front of her to make sure it still fit, that the dress was still perfect. For that evening, Dahlia wanted everything to be perfect, from the beginning to the end of the evening.

“So…the pink one?”

“The pink one.” comfirmed Edmund.

Dahlia put the dress on her bed and walked over to Edmund. She wrapped her arms around his waist and she rested her head on Edmund's shoulder. Edmund hugged her to his body.

“What are you doing here, by the way?”

“I came here to hide. Barely crowned and already being asked for my opinion on things where I clearly have no opinion. I'm asked to sign a stack of documents as tall as I am and asked if I prefer ruby red or wine red for new paint when all I see is just red.”

“You already went throught all of this, it should be easier. You have the opportunity to do better than the first time. I’m sure you’ll be just fine.”

“Perhaps. Plus, I wanted to see you. We didn’t really get the chance to spend much time together.”

“That is true. But we’ll got all the time in the wolrd to spend time together tonight.”

Dahlia felt Edmund nod, she felt him kiss the top of her head too.

“I need to go back.”

“I know but do you really have to?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

Dahlia reluctantly pulled away, she smiled tenderly at him before watching Edmund back away until he collided with a wall, then he walked normally.

Dahlia closed her bedroom door before starting to get ready. She did not want to be late for the ball.

The ball had started, the orchestra was playing lively music and almost all the guests were dancing. Dahlia was chatting with Narnians her own age, she cast furtive glances in Edmund's direction. She had said that they would have "all the time in the world" to hang out together, but in the end, they could barely share a smile. She was sad but she hid it behind a pretty smile to avoid arousing suspicion.

Dahlia had dreamed night and day for months that Edmund would come back to her and that they could live their little idyll in peace, but that had been far from the case. She didn't blame Edmund, she had been kidnapped and the day after her rescue Jadis had started a war, they barely had time to see each other. And, she knew that now that Edmund was King again, they were going to have even less time to see each other.

However, that did not matter to her. She was willing to take the risk if it meant spending a few minutes with Edmund at the end of the day. A few minutes was always better than none.

Out of the corner of her eye, Dahlia saw Edmund exit the Ballroom. She apologized to the girls she was "chatting" with and then followed Edmund.

“Didn't you plan to leave a ball given in your honor? And without dancing at least once with me?”

Edmund turned to her slowly; Dahlia found Edmund's gaze strange, it was something she had never seen in him before.

“I think you should find someone else to dance with tonight, Dahlia.”

Dahlia frowned, that was definitely not how she had imagined the evening would turn out.

“What is that supposed to mean, exactly?” Dahlia asked shyly.

“We both know what it means.”

Dahlia finally understood what Edmund meant. If she was right, then she would not let him off the hook so easily. She would make him say things out loud. He had to suffer the consequences of this decision seeing the sadness and disappointment on Dahlia's face. And, she hoped he would see her facial expression every night before he fell asleep for the rest of his life.

“No, no, Eds! I don’t know what it means. Say things clearly.”

“Dahlia, please. Dont make me sy it out loud.”

“You’re about to break my heart, why should I make things easier for you?”

Edmund sighed in frustration before running his hand over his face then he looked up into Dahlia's dark brown eyes. Dahlia noticed that Edmund's eyes were filled with tears.

“You should find someone else to dance with because…because me and you, we should stop seeing each other. It’s for the best.”

“It’s for the best for whom exactly?”

“Dahlia, please…you know it's best for both of us. For you.”

“Oh, so now you know better than me what’s best or not for me?”

Edmund ran his hand through his hair and he sighed again in frustration. He then nodded to Dahlia to follow her. Dahlia followed him without saying a word. They entered an empty room, Dahlia closed the door behind them.

Edmund wasted no time before speaking again.

“We have to face the facts, Dahlia. I don't want your life to be ruined. If we continue like this, you…”

“‘I’ what? Hm?”

“You'll end up taking a back seat or wallowing without you and I even realizing it. There will always be a mountain of documents, meetings, trips to the most distant regions of Narnia and hundreds of people who will come between us. Before...before we know it you'll become a neglected woman and you deserve much better than that, Dahlia. And…”

Dahlia heard the sincerity and the sadness in Edmund's voice, she understood the reasons that had pushed Edmund to take this decision and a part of her loved him even more to want to protect her from a possible misfortune, but a more much of her hated him for making that decision without considering her opinion or how she felt. Even if in itself, her opinion would have been far from rational, she also had a say, whether their relationship was official or not, there were two of them in this story and Dahlia felt that Edmund had no reason to take the decision without consulting her first.

Dahlia chooses, for once, anger and selfishness. She was tired of waiting for her turn, she was tired of seeing all the women around her taste happiness while she, each time she approached, was denied the right to do so. Dahlia would not let her chance pass. Not again. Not if she had the chance to avoid it.

“And what? Go through it, Edmund! C’mon! Finish your sentence and break my heart once and for all! Go on!” she screamed the last two words. “I didn't survive the torture Jadis inflicted on me for three months, I didn't cling to the hope of seeing you again one day just to hear you tell me that you don't want me anymore!”

Edmund looked once more into Dahlia's. Dahlia held his gaze, she wouldn't lower her eyes. Not this time.

“I'm not sure I can love you like you deserve. I…I'm not the ideal, perfect man you imagine. I thought that after her death everything would be settled, that I could start a new life because the wounds of the past would finally heal and disappear, but that is not the case. I still have so much hate in me, I still have so much self-hate, and the weight of guilt still keeps me up at night. But how am I supposed to love you when I don't love who I am? And how could I give you all of me when I'm only half a man? I'll drag you down with me and…”

“And I deserve better, yes I know, you already said that. But you see, Edmund, I’m the one to decide what I want or who I want in my life.”

Dahlia's heart broke under the weight of Edmund's words, but not for the reasons she believed. It had broken because Edmund was in pain and all the while he had suffered in silence, all alone in his corner. Her heart broke thinking that Edmund would rather suffer alone than ask for her help. He loved her so much that he did not want the darkness that had taken over his heart to stain Dahlia's.

Dahlia took a deep breath before moving towards Edmund, she slipped her small hands into Edmund's.

“You will listen to me carefully, Edmund Pevensie.” her tone was both soft and firm. “You're not alone anymore, okay? I am there. I am here and I will be by your side until the end. You don't have to pretend with me, I know all about it, let me share this pain with you, Ed. Together, we can get through this. We have already proven it, together we are stronger. I'll be there to hold your hand, I'll be there to hug you on the nights you can't sleep. And, if we put enough effort into this relationship, neither of us will be neglected. We can make this relationship work, while taking the time to mend in you what was broken in you when you were still a child. Don't push me away, Edmund. I know that together we can achieve this. I'm convinced. But…”

Dahlia let go of Edmund's hands and put some distance between them. It tore her to do this but she knew she could not force him to do something he did not want to do.

“But if you don't want to, if I haven't managed to change your mind, then I will respect your decision. You want the best for me and I want the best for you too. The final decision is yours and I will respect it.”

Dahlia left the room before Edmund could answer. She closed the door behind her before returning to the Ballroom. Dahlia went to get something to drink, then stared at the open door, patiently waiting for Edmund to return.

#king edmund the just #edmund pevensie #narnia #fanfic #oc!fem!character #prince caspian #one last time

[reyesbignaturals]

Wrote my first fic in a HOT minute with an OC I made specifically for the COD-verse and I love her very much and would love to talk about her much more in detail than is revealed about her in this blurb but here is some writing, I tried my best!

It's a Velikan fic that I'm gonna work on slowly that is intended to be incredibly slow-burn with a lot of hurt/comfort elements. I don't have a lot of free time in my personal life, so I have been just kind of writing as I can and it's been a nice stress relief to add pictures to my Pinterest board cause I've got this story in my head but I don't always have time to write all the stuff down!

But I tried to get some of the story, and character set up done here so idk let me know what to fix, I would like to get better at writing but also this is mostly for fun haha

Fluorescent lights buzzed inside the ceiling beams of the room, joining the sounds of wheels that squealed against the laminate floor and the occasional intercoms that would page a doctor in the infirmary.

The Shadow Company had come back from an operation gone bad with many operatives covered in blood, with some even missing extremities when they'd finally been airlifted back to the base's hospital. Fortunately, there had been no casualties under the medical wing's care so far, and the staff intended to keep it that way.

“Hey, Doc, your next patient is ready to see you over in Room 2,” a nurse, Adrian, called over from the nurse's station, looking over at the doctor in question with a strange look as she exited the previous patient's room.

The doctor gave a tired smile to Adrian and nodded her thanks to the blonde, too exhausted to question her staff's weird expression. She could just be seeing things, having been on her feet for the last 14 hours, trying to keep blood on the inside of people's bodies rather than outside of it.

She readjusted her reading glasses to sit atop her head as she moved over to Room 2, grabbing the chart that had been placed on the wall next to its door. Skimming over its contents, she was relieved to see that her day seemed to have come over its peak and was finally coming down to a more manageable pace; this man was being seen for a follow-up on some stitches he had received some weeks ago.

Something unique in this man's file caught her attention, though; the diagnosis of selective mutism with no other context was listed in medical history. She was curious how he managed to pass selection into the military in general, let alone get into a PMC, but she wasn't paid enough to ask questions such as that. It was going to be more important for her to find out how she was going to communicate with him about his healing status and any questions he may have.

Alexander Manos (operator name: Velikan), the file read.

With two knocks on the metal door, she announced her arrival and opened the door with one hand, the other still holding onto the clipboard as she entered the room.

“Alexander?” She prompted, looking up at what she could only describe as a giant heap of muscle and terrifying armor, trying not to make her initial shock obvious by her facial expression. The man had just come back from a deployment if she was to judge from the faint odor of gunpowder, man stink, and blood alone. His layers upon layers of tactical armor pads made his shoulders appear impossibly wide, and his mask gave the impression of a fearsome red tiger with its painted sabers outreached and ready to bite at any given opportunity.

There was a moment of silence where the two simply stared at each other before Alexander nodded hesitantly in acknowledgment to her question. The fact Kaja was unable to see his face made her uncomfortable given she wanted to be able to interpret his expressions at least if she wasn't able to hear him speak, but she wasn't about to argue with 250+ pounds of pure muscle over it.

“My name is Dr.Magnusson, I'm the new doctor here at Shadow Company. They've put you under my care after Dr.Fort was stationed elsewhere,” Kaja began awkwardly. Having done several dozen introductions over the last week had not made her any better at them.  Truthfully, she wished that she could just skip past them altogether.

Alexander made no indication that he was going to respond to her introduction, so Kaja continued without missing a beat, “It looks like you're being seen today to have your stitches in your arm checked on?”

He made no indication that he had heard anything she'd said, simply looking straight ahead at her. Or, she had to assume he was looking at her, since his mask was still on. If she didn't know better, Kaja would think he was ignoring her deliberately. 

“Are you being seen for your stitches today?” Kaja repeated, enunciating her words a little clearer, curious if she had mumbled them earlier by any chance.

Alexander simply shifted in the hospital chair, moving his head up to look at the ceiling for a moment as he let out an audible sigh of clear annoyance.

"Not deaf," he finally grunted out in a raspy, baritone voice.

“Sorry,” Kaja was taken aback that she had received a verbal response from him at all, “I just want to know the best way I can talk with you. Would a pen and paper help? Would you like to type it on your phone?” 

She was trying to think of solutions the best she could on the fly, knowing she still had other patients waiting to see her as well. Alexander’s head perked a bit once he heard her listing the options that she had listed, but he settled back into his chair quickly, crossing his arms.

A moment of silence fell between them before she continued, “I'll need to see your arm and make sure it's healing properly.”

She moved closer to him at a balanced pace, watching as his covered face came back down from eyeing the ceiling to stare at her again.

“Alexander, I want to help you. Can you help me do that?” Kaja asked softly, reaching her hand out to touch his arm where his stitches were.

He leaned away from her, angling his body off of the bed as if she had some contagious disease. He pulled the arm she was reaching for out of her range and straightened his posture in a clear attempt to intimidate her with his stature alone. 

Now, she was starting to lose her patience. She gripped the pen tightly to her clipboard in an attempt to calm herself down as she took another step towards Alexander and lowered her voice, so no wandering passerby could overhear.

“Hey, I know maybe this situation is hard for you for your reasons, but you are putting me in a really difficult position at the moment for other reasons. If you don't want to be here, I'm not going to make you stay. But it is my job as your doctor to try to help you, and I have seen too many people almost die today from infections. So, if your name comes across my operating table, and it's from your arm wound getting infected, do you know how tempted I'm going to be to just amputate it?”

Was it a professional way to talk to her patient? Not in any capacity, and she definitely would have been fired if anyone had heard about it. Did it seem to resonate with her patient? Enough for him to start removing his gear slowly to display his healing scar.

First, came his helmet. When she saw his face, she almost regretted threatening him with amputation. She had seen he was a few years her senior from his records, but his face certainly reflected it. Loose black waves swept back from his face and greased down from his helmet in an almost mullet-like fashion. He had a haircut she was almost certain would be considered out of regulation, but that wasn't something she was going to fuss over at the moment when he was finally complying with her wishes.

Next, she noticed the years of exhaustion in his eyes that manifested as dark purple circles beneath his dark brown eyes, like freshly watered graveyard dirt, cold and secretive. His expression didn't seem to waver from a neutral stare, despite her attempt to placate him with another gentle smile as thanks.

The silence continued while he continued removing his gear, the display almost comical with just how much he had had on in the first place. She'd never seen someone with so much padding, yet he was still so broad underneath it all, built like a concrete wall. Kaja wondered what his daily regimen for the past ten years had been for him to have been in that kind of shape.

 Once he had removed all of his padding, he was finally able to roll up his undershirt enough to reveal the scar Dr.Fort had previously sewn up along Alexander’s forearm.

“There’s nothing that can be done about it at this point," Kaja sighed with a tone of frustration as she looked up at the man with disapproval, "But, I can tell you didn’t let it heal completely before you went back to duty. It’s healed crooked in a few areas after you ripping back open. Do you see it, here and here?” Kaja attempted to point at the disfigured scar tissue on Alexander’s arms, but he seemed beyond disinterested in hearing about it as he turned away to stare at the wall. 

With a sigh, Kaja removed her hands from his arm and backed away from the patient’s table, giving him some personal space she could tell he would appreciate.

“So when I see you in here when you get hurt, and I tell you to rest, you’re going to go right back to the field, is that it?” Kaja asked in a deadpan tone as she crossed her arms and leaned against the handwashing counter.

Alexander did not respond, instead rolling his sleeve back down to cover his arm and placing his gear into an orderly pile that he would be able to carry once he was dismissed.

“No wonder Dr.Fort had to go,” Kaja teased with a smirk, “He had to leave for his sanity, huh?”

That quip got a small snort out of Alexander.

Being able to make him laugh made Kaja feel a little better about threatening him with amputation earlier, at least.

“Alright, well, Alexander, if you have no other complaints about your health, then you are released from my care for now, and you are free to check out at the nursing station at the front.”

Alexander wordlessly gathered his armored plates and gear into his arms, picked it up, and left the patient room. In any other circumstance, Kaja would have felt incredibly insulted (okay, maybe she still did, just a bit.) 

But, she did manage to get some kind of a reaction out of someone she could have been thoroughly convinced was an android up until the very end of the session, so she had to take her wins where she could get them. 

When she exited the room, she was immediately pulled off to the side by Adrian, the nurse who had called her to the room in the first place. The blonde woman had a look of plain guilt on her face as she held Kaja’s arms.

“I’m so sorry, the other doctor was busy, and Alexander was next in the queue, and I-”

“Adrian,” Kaja interrupted the nurse firmly, “What in the sweet hell are you talking about?”

“We all know Alexander can be really… difficult to handle, and we didn’t want you to have to deal with any of those kinds of cases with you still being so new. I just didn’t have a choice, but I’m still really sorry. Are you okay?” She asked, looking Kaja over, seemingly checking for injuries, much to Kaja’s concern.

“I’m fine,” Kaja laughed, trying to brush off the idea that she might need to be worried about the fact that she could be injured on the job here, “Honestly, I think he kind of warmed up to me at the end there.” 

Kaja stated the end with a smug grin, raising her eyebrows as Adrian’s jaw dropped in disbelief and Kaja simply shrugged.

Over at the nursing station, Alexander watched the display discreetly and rolled his eyes, snatching a single pink hard candy from the infirmary candy jar on his way out. As he walked out of the double doors, he unwrapped the sweet and popped the strawberry candy into his mouth with a satisfied hum. 

What a weird fucking doctor, he thought to himself. At least she's kind of entertaining. I guess I'll keep seeing her for now.

#modern warfare 2 #cod #mw3 #cod velikan #my writing #velikan #cod mw2 #call of duty #cod modern warfare

[credinaa]

local time: 30 october 2022. noon. location: city center. leoran market.

While enjoying the festivities of the Food & Wine Festival, you begin to notice a distinctive change in your vision. Colors begin to gently shift and blur until you perceive the world in painted brushstrokes. You have been dosed with a large amount of the Collective drug Dorian.

TW for: mention of addiction, detailed description of a panic attack

“...and with this new practical knowledge we completed the training missions of this month. Sergeant Taylor Martin and I are going to announce the top three of this class tomorrow.” 

the evening had been full of insignificant conversations, overbearing colleagues and drunk students. if it hadn’t been for that one leoran dish she could eat (the usual fish) and the wine she had been offered from a fellow venpalan, the evening surely would have been unendurable. sasha was currently talking to the parents of one of her students (they were way too proud of their son, who was very obviously freaking bad at piloting and surely wouldn’t graduate), which had tried to bribe her with food and wine to give them more information about their son’s progress (none). at some point she had decided to describe the minimalistic progress he made through complicated technical terms, just to be able to finally leave the conversation. luckily, taylor came in sight, and through words along the lines of “hey, there he is - he knows way more about your son since he’s in his group - no, you surely won’t bother him” and with an affected smile towards her colleague on her lips, she sent them off to talk to him instead.

the feeling of relief didn’t last long - something in the atmosphere changed, though she couldn’t quite decipher what exactly it was. maybe her lack of sleep finally got to her and caused the strange tingling of her eyes and the pressure behind her forehead. the day surely had been exhausting and after drinking all this burgundy colored wine out of these nicely shaped glasses.. since everything looked so pretty and perfect, sasha couldn’t quite tell what was causing her to be this alarmed. 

when her head tipped forward a little, she needed to cling to a pillar to keep standing up straight and suddenly she noticed the patterns of the tiles, the colors and details of some of the guests shoes. and when her vision turned blurry just for her to see everything painted with brushstrokes as it turned clear again, a weird pressure on her chest made it harder for her to breathe.

Dorian.

suddenly she felt like a little lamb again, wandering from foster family to foster family without ever getting adopted, facing the various faces of drugs and addiction whenever she had to spend a night on the streets. ever since then she had sworn and promised herself that she would never take a step further than drinking alcohol, would never touch anything related to harder drugs - and now that promise was taken from her. no form of betrayal she ever felt before compared to what she was feeling now, especially since she had no idea who would do something like that. 

the next few minutes she tried to keep herself together with closed eyes, but every time she opened them again she had to face the hard truth - colors, brushstrokes, art. her chest started to feel even tighter and when she pressed her hands onto her skin and it didn’t help, her grasp on the cold stone got tighter. sasha thought that her clothes felt way too tight, too, the material was itchy and she started to get hot. fresh air, she thought, pushing herself through all the people who seemed to be occupied with themselves, past tables and counters just to reach a door leading outside, finally - just to be greeted by at least three of her students, staring at her in disbelief (she had to be quite a sight, panicking, teary eyed and without her jacket). 

“oh, fuck off.”, she said, pushing towards them as well and leaving the festival behind.

how much she hated this fucking planet.

#* CAPTAIN LOG / solo #* ON DECK / sasha soverall #* KEEP THE GUARD UP DURING / food and wine festival

[mikaharuka]

Hi, can you tell me more about We Need To Talk About Rosalie please?

Heyo Iris! Thanks for the ask~

So, this fic started off as the result of a crack/joke prompt on Discord ("watching paint dry"), but then it sort of evolved into a serious off-screen scene/moment within the main timeline~

The story is mostly Carlisle and Mike being extremely awkward during this second time they meet and talk, and Rosalie is the topic of conversation (and makes her appearance in the story too~). I'll have to back-track a bit into Apricity for this to make sense. In short, Mike and Rosalie formed a strange connection before Apricity began.

From Sapphire (Apricity, Ch 12):

Rosalie Hale had been alone in a quiet corner of the library, surrounded by books. [...] Mike had taken one of the empty seats nearby and began reading, occasionally looking up from his book in mild curiosity - and often found the girl returning his neutral gaze. They remained in a comfortable silence until they left for the day. That experience repeated itself a couple times until a half-year later, when their psychology teacher announced a term-paper and Rosalie asked Mike to be her project partner. He wasn’t sure why she asked him, but he had no reason not to accept. [...] They weren’t really ‘friends’ in the classic sense. In fact, they hardly spoke to each other or interacted in person, outside of required classwork or projects. But every now and then, she’d text him a link to some random article or thought that usually got his interest, or he’d text her the title of some random novel that she usually ended up liking. They reached an understanding of sorts, a new kind of equilibrium over the past year.

Basically, Mike and Rosalie are idiots who are definitely friends and talk about stuff way more than either would admit to... and Mike gets called out on this bs when he meets Carlisle for the first time.

From Midnight (Apricity, Ch 14):

“Rose and I don’t interact too often outside of school-related matters.” “Interesting. She regularly corresponds with you. Do you not consider her a friend?” “A friend…” ‘Friend’ wasn’t the first word that came to mind. He and Rose worked well together in the few classes they shared. Group projects often had them meeting outside of school hours… and a few personal things probably got mentioned every now and then… and they did text each other random stuff… and there was her warning from that morning… Huh… maybe they were friends of a sort after all? “You’ve come to a realization.” [...] “I didn’t think of it that way before, but I suppose we are. Friends, that is.” “I would agree, based on what Rosalie has told me.”

I'm not going to spoil the rest of this chapter, but basically this first meeting between them is very tense, awkward, but also weirdly wholesome every once in a while... which brings us to this fic.

Carlisle has... a lot of stuff going on and is also redecorating a certain space (including painting a certain space). He remembers the chaotic messes his siblings (especially Edward) often make... then he remembers Mike, his calmer/analytic demeanor, and his way with observation, design, and colors in general. He also feels bad for the first meeting and wants to make up for it... and Rosalie is the odd common ground of conversation. So really, this is one huge pile of weirdly tense, wholesome awkwardness that goes out rather well.

You can find the original post and links to other answers here :)

#my ask games #ask game #wip ask game #mizuka's ask games #winter light headcanons #mizuka's rambles

[the-letter-horror-lover]

Kuroshitsuji: Book of Suspicion

BabylonGardens

Summary:

Eleanora, Rianne, Felicia and Ele are best friends at the prestigious St Euphemia's High School. But when mysterious cases of fainting students surfaces, and they befriend the new students Ciel and Alois, they find their happy lives turned upside down, becoming involved in a conspiracy that threatens to tear their friendships apart.

Note: All characters are 17+

Chapter 1: Prologue

St Euphemia’s Secondary School (or better yet, St Em’s) was one of the most private and prestigious high schools in the state. For rich young men and women with far too much time on their hands, it was the perfect place to gain a gentle push of an education, yet receive one of the most recognized certificates in the entire country. Like all filthy rich schools, it was based on twenty-two-and-a-half acres, groomed to perfection and filled with state of the art facilities. Everything there was trimmed perfectly to the ‘t’ (even the grass length had a regulation).

However, even in this perfect world of lush rose bush gardens and sandstone gargoyles, something sinister lurked below the painted and polished surface, like the crooked tie of a prefect.

There was a dark blotch on the cream colour of St Em’s chapel walls (one could say literally and figuratively).

A week before, a strange letter was sent from the head of the school, Headmaster Padre. It was unexpected for the wealthiest parents in the country to find out that the oasis of their children’s education was facing some troubles - troubles which were never explained in the letter.

“Dearest parents and carers,

It is with a repentant heart that I must inform you all that the teachers of years ten and above have applied for extended leave due to pressing health concerns. This matter has already been sorted - new teachers are arriving in time for next Monday.

Regarding the alleged ‘health concerns’ of the school, with complete and utter honesty, I must stress that there is no danger nor threat that can affect your child here at St Euphemia’s. Your child’s safety is our utmost priority, and if there was even the slightest chance of danger occurring at my school, your son/daughter would be returned to you in the swiftest of time.

The fact of the matter is, there is no reason to be alarmed, merely it seems that the stress of teaching has gotten to most of our staff, especially since they must uphold such strong values many other teachers are very much unused to. They will return as soon as their situation allows.

It is with great pleasure that I welcome our new staff, and I hope that we can limit all disruptions which follow with this staff shuffling.

Yours Sincerely,

Headmaster Padre of St Euphemia’s Secondary School.”

It was odd, and even though many could appreciate the randomness of the event, many overlooked its importance - its significance. That something sinister was clawing its way up, wrapping its slimy fingers around the students - but at that moment, no one really seemed to care.

Chapter 2: Change

Notes:

Hello my lovely readers ~~~! Its Author-Chan!

Here is my newest story based on my renewed love for Black Butler! Tee Hee~

Hope you enjoy!!

Chapter Text

It was a cold Monday morning, where even the sun despised its role of waking the world up. Students milled about the polished tile floors of the locker rooms, gathering equipment for the day ahead.

"Students, there is to be an assembly straight after homeroom. All books are to remain in lockers until period one."

Groans erupted from the PA announcement. Assemblies were looked upon as fondly as the rats that roamed the grounds at night.

"Did'ya hear that?" Eleanora turned to her two friends either side of her locker. "We've got assembly."

Now many kids at St Em's detested assembly, but not this group. They held many differences to the clear majority of the school population, however, we will leave those for a later date.

"I have ears you know." Rianne adjusted her glasses in time to her sass, whilst brushing her honey brown hair away from her face.

Felicia rolled her dark eyes. "You remind us every day." She turned back to shove her folder in her locker. "We've got bio," she stated matter-of-factly.

"Today? Ewwww!" Eleanora scrunched her nose.

"Bro, biobox."

"Oh. Then what are we waiting for! Let's get going people!"

She gripped their arms and tugged them along, both Felicia and Rianne letting out long suffering sighs - evidence that this happened way too often for comfort.

They crossed the emerald green oval, a testament to the price of tuition at the school, and trekked into the hall.

Just as they suspected, the hall was devoid of students. A few junior teachers milled about, setting up last minute speeches and chairs. Rianne, Felicia and Eleanora ambled to the back of the hall, into a box-like structure built right at the back, facing towards the fantastic stage of St Em's.

Huge red and black curtains were draped across the hall - the proud crimson and bold onyx the colours of their prestigious school. Their school motto and symbol was printed across the top of the sizable front door, 'et scientiam in deo speramus'. In God and knowledge we trust. It was written around the silhouette of an angel, stretching their hand towards a book. Many students entertained the idea of the angel reaching towards a stash of porn.

They began to set up the necessary pieces of equipment for the assembly.

All was peaceful, until Rianne mentioned one huge fact: "Where's the running order?"

All production froze.

"Usually Mr. Marsh has it but…" Dread filled their stomachs. They forgot - all the senior teachers were gone.

No one had brought up the running order. They were going into the assembly blind.

"Okay, let's be calm," began Eleanora, hand on her hip in the universal pose of nonchalance. "No one's here yet."

As if on cue, swarms of students began to mill in, like bees to a pot of honey. Twin sets of eyes burned on our jinxer.

"..."

"Nice one Nora."

Silence consumed the small room, horror settling in like dew on a cold morning.

"Alright, plan of attack?" Asked Felicia after a few precious seconds.

Rianne snapped her fingers, signaling an epiphany.

"So, like, we know that its gonna start in like, five minutes," Eleanora and Felicia nodded in agreement and for her to continue. "So why don't we have someone run down to a teacher and see if they can track it down."

"If we can't?" Felicia questioned, fear blossoming in her eyes.

"We'll just have to go impromptu."

They gasped.

"Go Nora!"

"Me?!"

"Just GO!"

Cue mission impossible theme song.

Eleanora rushed down, her long plaid skirt more of a hindrance than anything else. From the windows of the biobox, they could see her black hair mould into a flash of ivory - testament to her - to their desperation.

"I've never prayed to God before, but I think I should start," Rianne mumbled.

They watched as Eleanora ran over to the nearest teacher-figure: a tall man dressed immaculately in a pure ink suit. He seemed to hold an air of grace and fierceness, even from their distance of observation. Eleanora ran up, and a small exchange occurred, where she then began her short return to the biobox.

"She's not running, which means we're in the clear," said Rianne.

"I hope you're right," stated Felicia.

Eleanora entered, slightly out of breath (running was not any one of their strong points).

"Ok, got some good and bad news. Which do you want first?"

"Bad."

"Good."

"Ok, I'll start with bad. No running order."

"What!" Shouted Rianne in disbelief. "What do you mean?"

"Some dumbass didn't see the need. Anyways, there's some good news too."

"What's that?" asked Felicia, as Rianne tried to curb away a panic attack.

"Teacher I just talked to, think his name's Mr. Michaelis, said he can direct us."

"Oh, that's convenient. Why couldn't they print that shit out?" Rianne fumed.

"It is due to the last-minute nature of this gathering. There has been very little time to organise every detail. Furthermore, a lady should never cuss like a pirate."

All three jumped, having never heard the smooth fucker walk up to the doorway, nor lean himself against the frame like some swimwear model. Rianne blushed - she'd just been told off by a teacher for something she rarely did around teachers.

"Now, shall I tell you the order of affairs, or are you going to stand there gaping like fish?" His voice was like the silkiest satin. Rianne declared war, Felicia became slightly annoyed, and Eleanora questioned her sanity.

Even in her shocked state, Felicia still managed to secure a piece of paper and pen for Mr. Michaelis to write down their saving grace.

He wrote just as elegantly as his suit, beautiful curves and dips. Jealousy flashed through all three at his beautiful, comprehensible hand writing.

"Now, if any of you have any questions, feel free to seek me out again," he commanded, as he handed back the paper like a precious diamond. He proceeded to then vanish into the air, looking not unlike black vapour.

"What the hell."

"Let's just get organised."

They sat at their stations. Rianne on projector, Felicia on sound and Eleanora on lights.

"This is going to be interesting."

Really, Eleanora had no idea how much foreshadowing she had just invited into the story.

Chapter 3: Ceremonies

Notes:

Hello again~~~! Welcome back to my lovely story _

I'm sorry about the cliffhanger, but I have to add drama somewhere! T-T

I hope you like next chap, and thank you for supporting this story!

~~~~Author-Chan

Welcome to the third week of term two, students."

Headmaster Padre began his principal's address, with his arms waving around like a palm tree in a strong breeze.

Rianne face palmed, "Who put this guy in charge of one of the richest schools in the country?"

"Who knows…" agreed Felicia.

They listened to the highly energetic principal, many feeling exhausted just watching him.

"And now, I would like to introduce the newest members of the senior school faculty!"

Several interesting figures ambled on stage, each seemly stranger than the other. Eleanora couldn't decide whether to turn on the spotlight, Rianne debated the pros and cons of bringing down the projector on their heads, and Felicia just muted all the mics. The headmaster glared in her direction, and it suddenly turned back on.

"Now we have, Mr. Sebastian Michaelis," Rianne bristled.

"Mr. Grell Sutcliffe," They had never seen so much red on one person before.

"Mr. Claude Faustus." he stared straight at the back, and the creepy factor seemed to rise with their paralysed horror.

"Miss Hannah Annafellows." She was quite pretty, but seemed to have an aura of cold steel.

"Mr, umm, Undertaker?" He giggled uncontrollably as he strutted on stage.

"Mr Finnian, Mr Tanaka, Mr Bard and Miss Mey Rin." The quadro waved with gusto.

"I expect you all to show the respect these new staff members deserve. Show them the hospitality that students at St Euphemia's is renowned for."

With a flash, the assembly was over, and recess commenced. Except, they were left to pack up the hall. Whilst stacking chairs, Felicia noticed a sinister glint in the distance.

"Something wicked this way comes!"

Rianne turned. "That's Mrs Devon! She's the best, you prat."

Out of the shadows sprinted out Mrs Devon dressed in a floral print skirt, towing behind her a disgruntled looking short boy with standout blue hair.

"Why the fuck he's got an eye patch?" Eleanora asked, almost dropping her chair in the process.

"Cos' he probably saw your face." Came the monotone reply.

Mrs Devon stopped in front of the trio.

"Hello Girls~~~!"

"Hello Mrs Devon," they chorused.

"I need you three to do a very important job for me~"

"What is it?" Asked Rianne, her curiosity piqued.

"Could you take this strapping young lad under your wings?"

They shared silent communication.

"...Sure?" Answered Felicia.

Mrs Devon made a noise suspiciously like that of a cry of victory.

"Thank you so much girls, I knew I could count on you!"

All three answered her with shy 'thank you's' and beaming smiles. It was not every day they were noticed. Mrs Devon left in a flowery whirlwind, leaving behind the new student in their midst.

"What's your name?" Asked Rianne.

"My name is Ciel Phantomhive."

St Euphemia's Secondary School was massive. Every classroom could fit more than fifty students at a time (but usually only ever had less than thirty), and had large gardens at every corner. The oval of the school was no exception.

It sat in the very heart of the school, like an ocean of always freshly cut grass, where everything else that took place seemed to revolve around. Situated directly around the oval was the old gothic-style library, dozens of worn sandstone class blocks, and an eating area decorated with dozens of tables, chairs and plain brown pavers.

It was a prized section of the school. Sheltered by numerous trees and a steel covering, the school's patio was fought over often. But there was one table that no one ever tried to steal (the last time someone did, several teachers were called). It was a senior table by right, and only seniors ever sat there. It was passed down from generation to generation of a particular group of children: children who attended St Em's on scholarship and who held top marks in the school.

This was the Squad's favourite table, and no one dared steal it.

As our newly formed group of four made their way, they noticed the last two members of their squad already seated at the table, laughing and giggling together.

"Geez, Val and Ele should get a room already."

Rianne elbowed Eleanora at that statement. "Can you not?"

They finally reached the picnic table, all claiming a spot.

Ciel, obviously awkward at being a newbie (at school and in the group) stood off to the side. Our resident hawk also noticed this.

"Oi, Ciel," he turned to face Rianne. "You can sit down you know. None of us bite."

Eleanora smirked. She nudged the handsome boy she had sat down next to, "I know one of us who does."

Valentino blushed a bright scarlet. "D-don't say things like that!" He stammered.

"Sh-shut it Nora!" Ele added.

"Nora, we already know you're the one who bites," roasted Felicia.

Laughter sounded round the table, except for Ciel who looked like a tea towel stuck in an industrial washing machine.

"Who's this?" Asked Ele, finally noticing the blue-haired newbie.

"I'm Ciel, Ciel Phantomhive."

"It's time for introductions~!" Sang Ele. "My name is Eleanora, but as the better Eleanora, I have been renamed Ele!"

Sitting next to Ele, Felicia went next.

"I'm Felicia, and I've always been named Felicia. Except when my parents wanted to call me Jordan."

Rianne laughed. "Name's Rianne. Don't be fooled by the name though, I'm German."

They all sniggered. "And I'm Eleanora. I can go by many names, but none of them are nice enough to say."

That earned a few more laughs.

"Hello Ciel. I'm Valentino, but just call me Val. I enjoy long walks to the fridge."

Ele giggled. "Seriously Val, I thought that you loved all the cute girls at school!" She winked.

Val laughed heartily, "that too!"

They all shared a meaningful look, before bursting out, "WELCOME TO THE PIT OF HELL THAT IS ST EM'S!"

Ciel seemed to smirk. "Hell, huh?"

"You'll see," came Felicia's reply.

The bell jingled, a tune from the chorus of the school song.

"That's our cue to go. What do you have first, Ciel?" Eleanora's motherly side rearing its ugly head.

"English."

"We're in the same grade, right?" Asked Felicia.

"Year twelve?"

"Yeah, same grade," grinned Valentino. "Follow us, we'll lead you to class."

They made their way through the throngs of students to first period.

Eleanora, Rianne, Felicia and Ciel entered the designated classroom, as Valentino and Ele entered a separate room.

"Where are they going?" Asked Ciel.

"They're in a different class," answered Felicia.

As they entered, our golden trio stopped and stared in shock. There, already at the front of the class stood Mr Michaelis, flashing a brilliant smile of fake innocence. Several students were already seated, and many girls (and some boys) were already drooling.

"Lord have mercy on our souls," Eleanora mumbled under her breath.

They led Ciel to their usual seats: four desks directly in front of the teacher's desk. They settled themselves in, before waiting for the class to begin.

After pulling out a pocket watch, ("Who has those now days!?" "Shut up Nora!") Mr Michaelis signalled for the class to begin.

"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to your first class with me, Mr Michaelis."

One line in, and there were already about three nosebleeds.

"Now, I understand that your next unit is poetry."

No one said anything. It was quieter than a graveyard at night.

"Not very talkative, I see," Mr Michaelis added, probably trying to break the awkward silence. "That's alright."

He moved to the whiteboard, and picked up a marker.

"Today, I would like to gauge your poetic abilities. You now have half the lesson to write a poem."

He began to write in his swirly cursive, the word 'love' slowly emerging on the board.

"Your topic is love. I suggest brainstorming first. Begin!"

The sounds of papers and scribbling pens erupted through the room. Many students, it seemed, took the opportunity to impress their teacher.

Our group didn't. Ciel doodled on his page, Rianne googled searched a quick poem, Felicia made a Haiku, and Eleanora attempted the task, snickering to herself.

Before too long, Mr Michaelis called for them to stop.

"Now, even if your poem is not finished, it's alright. But now I would like you all to move your chairs and make a socratic circle at the back of the room."

"Woo! Satanic circle time!" Cheered Eleanora.

Laughter and sniggers drowned out the sounds of scraping chairs.

"Nora…" Began Felicia,

"Yeah?" Asked Eleanora.

"It's socratic." Finished Rianne.

"Oh. Shit."

Mr Michaelis shot the group an evil eye. "Please hurry up, we do not have all term to wait for you three to take a seat."

More giggles sounded from the class, so they sat down.

"Now, we shall perform this in a circle, starting with you," he pointed to a random girl who squealed.

After about (what seemed like) fifty boring poems on roses and violets, the turn fell to our group of nerdy misfits. Rianne went first.

"Roses are red,

Violets are blue,

Sugar is sweet and so are you…"

Mr Michaelis sighed in suffering, but made no move to stop her.

"But the roses are wilting,

The violets are dead,

The sugar bowl's empty,

and so is your head."

A vein stood proudly on his forehead. "Miss…?"

"Rianne."

"Yes, Rianne, why did you write a poem on hate, when I asked for a poem on love?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "Well, firstly, there's a thin line between love and hate." A shit-eating grin appeared on her face. "And I wanted to subvert the genre of love poems by transforming a traditional love limerick into an opposite subject."

Mr Michaelis pinched the bridge between his nose, almost like he was trying to fight off a headache.

"That's lovely. Next person please."

Ciel straightened. Clutching his book close to his body, he flipped it around to show a page full of black scribble, complete with a straight face.

Mr Michaelis was trembling in barely controlled anger.

"Where is your poem?"

Ciel glanced at the page. "It is in there somewhere."

"Next!"

Felicia stood proudly.

"Old pond,

A frog jumps in,

Sound of water."

She sat back down.

"That is not a love poem!", snarled Mr Michaelis.

"It is!" countered Felicia. "I love frogs, so I wrote a poem about them."

Mr Michaelis face palmed. He mumbled something unintelligible under his breath.

"Next person."

Eleanora smiled slyly. "Are you sure?"

"Very."

"Okay,

The sky is draped

In a deep and daring red

Sweat drips down

Your moist forehead.

I take your hand

Its burning hot,

Down one end

Of my loose tied top-"

"SHUT UP NORA!", Rianne and Felicia shouted.

"Oh, deary me," stated Mr Michaelis, a mischievous smile gracing his lips. "I wanted you to continue."

"Bad touch, bad touch!", whispered Eleanora.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I am going to collect your poems, and take them to my office."

Each student handed over their work, and he left the classroom. The room descended into chatter, many conversations running along the lines of "isn't our teacher hot?!"

"Well, that was a disaster", mumbled Felicia.

"Tell me about it!", groaned Eleanora. "This is bullshit."

"Well, you three made idiots of yourselves," commented Ciel.

All was quiet, before Rianne seemed to have a lightbulb moment.

"Guys! You know what we haven't done!"

"What?", asked Felicia and Eleanora at the same time.

"We haven't completed Ciel's initiation ceremony!"

"My what?!", cried Ciel.

"Can't you hear? It's a ceremony which makes you a full member of our group," smirked Felicia.

"Kay, Nene, I need you to stand on a chair," commanded Eleanora.

Rianne complied, some students turning to watch the strange event. When Rianne was comfortably standing on top of a chair, without any warning, Eleanora grabbed Ciel and hoisted him up for Rianne to hold.

"What the hell are you doing?!", he shouted, voice cracking from surprise.

"Already answered that~", sung Felicia.

"Kay, Felicia, you do the forehead thing."

"Cool."

They all took a big breath. By now, the whole class had noticed the affair, and had stopped to watch with baited breath. Even Ciel seemed to be more curious than scared at this point.

"One, two, three…"

Rianne hoisted Ciel up to her full height, just above her head (he was really light). He let out a scream as this occurred, but what happened next completely drowned him out.

"IT'S THE CIRCLE OF LIFE!

AND IT MOVES US ALL!"

The whole class began to sing along, a chorus of equally good (and bad) voices continued with the song, as Rianne lowered Ciel to Felicia. Felicia pulled out a blue highlighter, and drew a cross upon his forehead.

"I now dub thee, member of the Squad!"

Eleanora and Rianne cheered, Ciel just looked sick of being manhandled.

And this was the exact moment Mr Michaelis chose to walk into the room, with the rest of the students still singing the opening song from the Lion King, blue highlighter spread all over Ciel's forehead, with Eleanora, Rianne and Felicia cheering.

"You four," he pointed to illustrate his point, "will be joining me for detention at lunch!"

They couldn't see his brown red eyes under the darkness of his rage.

"Huh, my first detention," muttered Eleanora under her breath.

BONUS:

Ciel: "Why did I get detention?!"

Sebastian: "It was a consensual situation obviously."

Ciel: "NO IT BLOODY WASN'T!"

Sebastian: "Well, suck it up you little bitch."

Chapter 4: Detention

Chapter Text

English had finally ended, after Mr. Michaelis had set a serious amount of homework.

“I want each of you to research a love poet, then make a collection of their most significant works. Due next lesson, which is...tomorrow.”

Everyone had groaned as they exited the room.

“What’s next?”, asked Ciel.

“Math….” Rianne, Felicia and Eleanora spat.

“Worst subject of the day,” added Felicia.

They trekked across the school to the other side, clambering up a steep set of stairs. Because they were all nerds, they were completely exhausted after climbing up halfway.

“When will we reach the room?”, Ciel panted out.

“Soon, I hope”, groaned Eleanora in response.

They continued into a large corridor, lined with floor to ceiling windows letting in bright sunshine which burned their eyes. From their height, they could see the rest of the school spread around the oval, little black and red ants scattered around during the mad rush to class.

“Wow,” muttered Ciel. “What a view.”

“That’s what she said!”, giggled Eleanora.

“yikes, can you not!”

“Grow up already!”

They reached the necessary room - which matched the subject. It was one of the older classrooms in the school, and it really showed. The brown paint on the walls was peeling slightly, the desks full of generations of students’ scribble and graffiti, the carpet was full of dirty splotches and there was a grand total of two windows in the entire room, making it feel tiny and dark.

“Hate this room,” muttered Rianne. “How much does it pay to go here again?”

“Enough to renovate the damn room twenty times over”, said Felicia.

“Let’s just get a good seat,” interrupted Ciel.

So the Squad claimed the row of seats closest to one of the two windows that was nearest to the board. After chatting about absolutely nothing for a while, Ciel cleared his throat, indicating that he wanted to comment.

“So,” Ciel began. “What are you learning in maths?”

“Don’t know,” answered Felicia. “I don’t take maths.”

Her face went pale with realization.

“Oh Mother Teresa on the hood of a Mercedes Benz, I’m not supposed to be here!”

She stood up a few seconds too late, for as soon as she stood, the only door in the room slammed shut with an almighty bang, and in strode their math teacher.

Ciel stiffened as soon as he saw the man, which Rianne found just slightly odd. Maybe he really hates math…? She thought.

“Sir,” began Felicia. “I’m not in the right room. I don’t take maths.”

He turned to face her slowly, a simmering glint lingering in his glasses covered eyes.

“You’re in it now. Take a seat.” Felicia obeyed immediately.

His voice was low, but deadly. They decided at that very moment, this was the class in which they would not breathe a word. He sounded like the kind of teacher to murder his students and bury the bodies in the school garden at night.

“Now.” Everyone sat up straighter, “I am Mr Faustus, and I will be your math teacher. I expect full attention, perfect attendance, and absolutely no incompetence.”

Gulps sounded from around the room as his voice went lower and lower with warning.

“If these rules are not fulfilled...there may be some serious consequences.”

Shivers cascaded down spines, and even the most disruptive students were silent during the deadly encounter.

“Now for the roll.” His terrifying intensity did not decrease.

He called out every students’ name, commanding them to also raise their hand so that he could put a face to the name. (WHHHYYY??? Screamed Eleanora internally).

Every name he called, he met the person’s eyes. Felicia went first, and refused to make direct eye contact. He did not continue calling names until she did. Ciel went next, and the eye contact lasted far longer than he ever wanted. Rianne was straight after, and she met his gaze with as much intensity she could muster. Try me, bitch, she tried to say with her eyes. Eleanora was last on the roll, and couldn’t sit still during the staring match, much to Mr Faustus’ annoyance.

“Now that that’s over,” he stated. “I want you to open your textbooks to page 207 and begin work immediately.”

Books were flipped open, and work began straight after. No one wished to see the wrath of this particular teacher. Felicia shared a textbook with Eleanora, and internally complained the whole way through the lesson. Minutes stretched on for hours, before the once annoying bell sounded the end to their suffering.

Mr Faustus continued to sit, watching all the students as they walked out to leave.

“Remember,” he called out, “Homework is your responsibility. If you are not up to date with the course, then it is your fault alone.”

...And now students were running out of the room.

Ciel had sprinted out as soon as the bell sounded, so Rianne, Felicia and Eleanora had a few precious seconds to themselves down the hallway before where Ciel stood waiting for them.

“Was it me, or did Mr Faustus stare at Ciel way too long to be normal,” asked Rianne.

“Considering how creepy that guy is,” answered Eleanora, “I wouldn’t be surprised if that man was a serial killer.”

“Same”, agreed Felicia. “I’m never accidentally showing up to math class with you three again.”

“I wish I could do the same,” complained Rianne.

“Come on you lot!”, shouted Ciel grumpily. “We still have a detention with Mr Michaelis, remember?”

“Calm yourself! Detention’s at second half of lunch!”, corrected Felicia.

Oh.” Ciel embarrassedly muttered. “Well do hurry up, I don’t want to be here any longer than I have to.”

“Coming, coming.”

The squad made their way over to their table where Ele and Valentino were already seated.

“Guess what we have,” called Eleanora.

“Detention?”, joked Valentino, laughing at the mere thought of it.

“Yep.” Rianne popped the ‘p.’

Valentino seemed to choke on his spit. “You guys, on detention? No way!”

Ele managed to glomp all four of them. “I’m so proud, you’ve all grown up!”

“Who gave it to you guys?”, Valentino asked, curious.

“Mr Michaelis, our new English teacher”, filled in Rianne.

“No way!”

“I want to sit down,” complained Ciel.

So they all sat down on the wonky seats, and began to chat, until…

“Have you seen the canteen Ciel?”, asked Valentino.

“No. I don’t really need to either”, he answered.

“But you should,” pressed Valentino, before dragging the poor midget away.

The girls laughed at the hilariousness of Ciel being dragged by the top of his shirt.

“Now, back to important matters,” grinned Eleanora mischievously, “What’s going on between you and Val, Ele?”

Ele turned a bright scarlet, not unlike a third degree burn.

“Nothing, I’ve just been texting him.”

“Um, we all text him, Ele,” Felicia pointed out.

“No, I mean, ‘texting’ texting.”

“Sexting?”, asked Eleanora. “God damn it Ele, that’s emotional blackmail!”

“No, not that! We’ve been hanging out a bit more too…”

“Aww, that’s so cute!” Cooed Rianne.

“Ship it!”, cried Felicia and Eleanora.

“Hey guys, Val and Ciel are coming back.”

True to Rianne’s words, Valentino and Ciel came trotting back, a huge smile on Val’s handsome face, and a deep-set frown on Ciel’s.

“Jeez, talk about juxtaposition,” joked Felicia, “am I right?”

Everyone laughed, except Ele. “It’s really not that funny.” She justified.

The second bell of lunch rang, signalling the start of detention.

“Well, that’s our cue to skadoo,” laughed Eleanora. “C’mon Ciel, let’s go.”

The classroom reserved for detention was far nicer than their math room, but was gloomy enough to merit a sense of foreboding. Already seated at the teacher’s desk was Mr. Michaelis with his arms neatly folded and several of their class’ poems scattered around. He was most likely marking their trash.

Several students were also already in the classroom, eating lunch, doodling on the tables, and talking quietly amongst each other. overall, it looked pretty relaxed.

Our squad took seats all next to each other, and after about five minutes waiting, the detention began.

“So,” began Mr. Michaelis. “You are all here for disruptive or immature behaviour,” his eyes glared directly at our group at the last one. “So I want each of you to sit here in silence and contemplate your actions and how you will improve them for the future. If you cannot follow that instruction, you will be asked to return tomorrow for a special one on one detention.”

With that said, silence resumed, settling like a thick dark cloud. Everything seemed normal (if anything, just a tad boring) before it all went pear-shaped.

One of the girls seated at the front seemed to grow paler and paler, eventually putting up her hand for Mr Michaelis’ attention. He nodded, a sign for her to talk.

“Sir, can I go to the bathroom?”

“Why?” He asked. “You had the first half of lunch to sort yourself out. You can wait until the bell goes.”

She couldn’t.

She sprung from her seat, rushing for the door, but collapsed against the door frame. Mr. Michaelis was up as soon as she twitched, and caught her just as she went to slump across the carpet.

Even from their distance from the event, Rianne, Felicia, Eleanora and Ciel could hear her raspy breaths and see her pale and clammy face.

“She’s fainted,” whispered Ciel.

Mr Michaelis placed a glove-covered hand to her forehead, and his eyes narrowed.

“Detention is over. No one is to repeat what has happened to anyone outside this room.”

They didn’t need to be told twice, as the squad exited the room. The bell rang ominously as they made their way back to the table to retrieve their belongings.

“Hope she’s okay,” mumbled Eleanora.

“Let’s just hurry up so we can get to class,” stated Ciel, a hard frown adorning his face.

He walked ahead, leaving Felicia, Eleanora and Rianne behind.

BONUS:

“Why are we not at the canteen Valentino?”, Ciel asked, clearly annoyed.

A murderous cloud surrounded Valentino, startling Ciel. The easy smile that usually decorated his face had been replaced by an angry frown. Ciel began to fear for what would come next.

“Tell me,” he began, “What do you think of Ele?”

...That’s his question! Ciel cried internally.

“She’s nice, but I don’t really know her. I don’t really know anyone in the group yet. Why?” Ciel knew it was a safe response.

Valentino slumped into a sheepish expression. “I-I’m sorry, I just thought, maybe, you liked her? I don’t know, she’s just a really nice girl, and I….never mind.”

Ciel almost felt sorry for him (key word, almost).

“Look, I’m sorry for being a bit of a jerk. Hey, if you ever need help with the ladies, I’m your man!” He grinned, giving the nice guy pose.

Ciel nodded. “Thanks, I guess….”

“Is there someone you like?”, continued Valentino, without missing a beat. “I bet it’s Nene, you look and act like her type!”

Ciel went pink with horror. “I - I do not!”, he stammered out.

Valentino walked away laughing, beckoning for him to follow. “That’s what they all say!”

Chapter 5: Fallen Angels

Notes:

Hello dear readers!!

Today's chapter is written by the lovely Guest Writer™, featuring the amazing Editor™️

What will happen??

Read on to find out…

#black butler fanfiction