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#triads of the damned
mariogman25 · 2 years
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I am flattered you based Demon!Sundown from jel's Akio and my Triads of the Damned. Since Free Bird is a Twin, I guess Queen and River Styx perhaps when Successors snag em. In turn, The Eagle is snatched by Atgas for being "an inferior copy" maybe. Thanks for the OC fun facts meme!
Well now that you mention it, what with The Free Bird's trial being "Trial of Rhythm", I think a bonus boss/Minigame against a corrupted Eagle & demon backup would make sense. Perhaps a trick is you can only use each attack only once... And...
It would involve this:
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grangertrash · 23 days
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"They would never be friends. She already wanted more."
Two Moons by MScrap54
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crimeronan · 5 months
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Lavwin is top tier but also on the topic of polyships: Camilraeda. Everybody claps. I love the idea of them not really defining their relationship because “they’re all too old for this” but also think that at their age they should just take the good things as they come and what they’ve got going on is very good.
Also comedy potential of nobody telling Luz about it cause they’re keeping it low key until one day when Eda and Raine say they’re gonna be busy with stuff Luz decides to go home and visit her mom and just sees Raine wearing one of Camila’s big shirts making tea in her moms kitchen and patiently waits for Raine to cast a silencing spell so she can freak like “WHEN YOU GUYS SAID YOU HAD STUFF TO DO I DIDNT THINK YOU MEANT MY MOM???!?!????”
YELL. I WISH MY BRAIN WAS WORKING WELL ENOUGH TO OFFER MORE HEADCANONS BUT THIS ASK IS REALLY REALLY REALLY GOOD ALL BY ITSELF.
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tired-reader-writer · 7 months
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I finally got some concrete details nailed down for my Ascendance of a Bookworm OC and the AU she's in, the AU features queerplatonic aroace-ish Ferdinand/OC with Myne as their adoptive daughter born in Werkestock, and Benno as a broke-ass Werkestock merchant due to the economy being wrecked by the civil war.
I'll put it under the cut:
Horaia was born in the Adalgisa Palace as one half of a twin set— the other half being a boy that looked just like her. Due to their mother having given birth to twins, their mana level was lower than was expected of the offspring of the flowers there, and so to compensate for the lower quality feystone her brother would produce, and because she too didn't have quite enough mana to be considered up to snuff to be either a collateral royal or a flower, it was decided that she would be raised as a seed and her feystone be shipped together with her brother's.
She recovered memories of her past life during this childhood in the Palace, or was supposed to, but due to being exposed to trug constantly her head was a mess and that affected the memory recovery process— she doesn't remember in the sense that Myne does, rather it's... fragmented. Hazy. Something familiar deep down on a gut instinct level but doesn't know why. She craves for things she doesn't know the name or shape of, the clack-clack-clack of the keyboard as she typed, even if she can't remember what a keyboard or a laptop is. Her instincts, reflexes, her morality, they're influenced by her past life but she doesn't know for sure where these instincts or moral compass are coming from. She'd do or say something and then be like “wait why'd I do that”. Though that level of awareness would only come after she's away from the Palace, while being stuck inside it and constantly inhaling trug her ability to tell whether she is [REDACTED] or Novem is severely compromised, and so she... floats through the days as [REDACTED] rather than the child she is supposed to be. As I'm assuming the Adalgisa Seeds are raised communally (if that's not the case in canon I'll just say this is an AU thing) “Novem” has the opportunity to... befriend? develop a potentially codependent dynamic? with Quinta, the boy taking solace in the “imaginary world” and “made-up stories” Novem would tell.
Things get spicy when the girl's twin, the other half of the singular “Novem”, somehow ropes the girl half into killing him and absorbing his feystone. Granted, the children didn't know for sure it would work, just that if they're gonna die anyways there's nothing to lose anymore and if he is to die then he wanted it to be by his sister's hand. So... she did. While her mental capabilities were hella compromised under trug. And somehow took her brother's feystone and swallowed it whole, basically cannibalizing her twin brother. The stone was actually absorbed into her, and the consequence of that was...
Well.
A surge of mana, his blending with hers, almost enough to kill her spontaneously, and... and inherited memories.
They won't be whole, of course. This was a very crude way of pulling this off, and in the end the girl is unable to tell who died and who survived— whether this current consciousness is the one that killed or the one that was killed taking dominance in the subsequent fever, whether she was the one who reincarnated or her brother was. Hell of an identity crisis.
Eventually Aub Ahrensbach, Gieselfried, takes her out of the villa just as Quinta (Ferdinand) was by Aub Ehrenfest, Adelbert. The reasoning I haven't pinned down yet, but the tentative one I have so far is that because she displayed the abilities beyond what an seed of Adalgisa should possess (I doubt they were taught or educated, seeing as they're supposed to be products, born to die, born to be export feystones). She is baptized as the first wife's (who is from Drewenchel) daughter.
Though Gieselfried likely thought he was bringing a son home only to realize that nope, that a girl my dude.
Horaia's gender identity shenanigans (and by the Seven does she got gender identity shenanigans) will be explored later perhaps in another post. For now though I'll just use she/her.
Horaia and Ferdinand reunite as first years in the Royal Academy, and whoopsie-doopsie their codependency might've ratcheted up to an eleven. Basing this on my own experiences as a child stuck inside a... shitty family and household with no escape in sight, the thing that gave me solace was stories. My grandmother's stories about her time spent in Russia, stories found in books, stories found in myths and comics and all that bullshit. It was a bit like escapism. I asked my grandma to tell me about her time in Russia again and again because it gave me comfort— that was the base inspiration for the early dynamic between Ferdinand (or rather, Quinta) and Horaia (or Novem) back when they were still stuck in the Adalgisa Palace, just Quinta taking comfort in the picture Novem's stories painted. And then they both escaped (as outlined above) and... well. Ten-year-old Ferdie isn't gonna be as much of a callous hard-ass shutting everyone out as thoroughly or harshly as his adult self, and so... well. They end up latching onto each other al la Ducky Syndrome™ and it's only reinforced by the time they spent together year-round at the Royal Academy without going home.
(The original plan was for her to be an archnoble not an archduke candidate so that she could more easily marry into Ehrenfest without being vetoed by Sylvester's parents for fear of Ferdinand obtaining a better match than their son so I made her take the scholar and knight courses because it made sense for her character— someone who's really interested in the scholarly pursuits like history and magic but loves moving her body loves being athletic to some degree both from the influences of her past life where she wanted to be a writer and historian and played volleyball in high school and while ditter isn't volleyball it's the closest thing to athletes they got in the academy but then I overhauled the AU and now Ferdinand is the one marrying into Ahrensbach to an archduke candidate so uh I accidentally made Horaia take three courses???? Whoops. But it makes sense for her character so I'm not gonna change it, even if it makes her a little OP. Yolo, booyah! )
Oh yes.
She is a ditter-head.
Dunkelfelger loooooves her.
“Wanna ditter?” “FUCK YES LET'S DITTER”
It's to the point Dunk wanted both her and Ferdinand in the duchy, and so they wrestled two betrothals: Ferdinand to Magdalena, Horaia to Werdekraft buuuuut we all know what Magdalena did so Ferdinand's betrothal was cut off.
And since one of the reasons why Horaia accepted marriage into Dunk was because Ferdinand's safety would be guaranteed and she can keep an eye on him better (remember, codependent ), she declares groom-taking ditter on Ehrenfest and wins, securing a betrothal to Ferdinand instead.
Groom-taking because Ferdinand consented.
Again, codependent.
And that's how Ferdinand marries into Ahrensbach.
They decide to go check on Werkestock because the place is in shambles and y'know, doesn't the Temple help w that??
So they go to the Temple (mostly Horaia's idea tbh) and help around with filling the land w mana via chalices or whatever
And accidentally stumble upon Werkestock's Foundation whoops dunno what its consequence is yet but it happened
Somewhere along the line Myne regains her memories and is going on a paper/craft/food rampage as one does, which catches Horaia's attention when she's downtown under disguise as a young man.
Don't ask. Or do. I did say she's got some gender identity shenanigans going on here.
So Myne gets adopted! This time willingly (Horaia convinced and explained stuff to her, this is relevant to the AU's themes and shit but my brain is starting to shut down so it'll have to be a topic for another day) and without the contract that bars her family from treating her as theirs. They regularly meet up in secret.
Much of Horaia and Myne's bond would be built on the fact that they make each other feel... a little less alone, if that makes sense. Less alone in their grief, less alone in the yearning for a home you can never go back to, less alone in having to cope with the dissonance between your previous world and this one. Solace in the fact that, despite how they most likely didn't grow up in the same society (Horaia is unlikely to have been Japanese, even if I have yet to decide where she's from) there's still someone who knows. What has become utterly meaningless in Yurgenschmidt isn't so worthless or meaningless to each other. A lot of “Well this matters. To me.” bouncing back and forth between each other. Someone who can at least partially understand what Myne is on about and how she differs from Yurgenschmidt nobility's paradigms, where she's coming from, and attempt to bridge the gap.
They're also horrid little gremlins undoing each other's domestication and enabling each other's nonsense, much to Ferdinand's vast dismay.
Meanwhile Ehrenfest may or may not be imploding. You tell me.
Little things about Horaia's past life:
She wanted to become a novelist and a historian. Has a lot of Feels™ about both of her interests.
Had a totally healthy (lying) appreciation for libraries.
She was younger than Urano Motosu when she died.
She submitted one of her drafts/manuscripts to a publisher, but died before she got a response back.
She feels that her writing and the story style she does probably wouldn't be appreciated in Yurgenschmidt and that... bothers her more than she'd admit.
Horaia is Ahrensbach's current Knight Commander.
Myne is also on the aroace spectrum in this AU. Fight me bro (don't actually, I just got out of another fight on this matter and I'm tired okay?)
Myne's noble name in this AU is something different, I'm liking “Enheduanna” a priestess and the first known author in Earth history iirc, but we'll see if I find another one I like.
And here we have a sample writing thing from Horaia's POV while stuck in Adalgisa Palace :3
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thecrowinggriffon · 2 years
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Back to Mordheim, yes, yes!
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asyourshadowfalls · 5 months
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i havent watched bend it like beckham in ages, and now no longer being oblivious and actually WATCHING the relationships in a way i didn't as a kid or just didn't understand. but fuuuuck that club scene is sooo cringy
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riftwalker-limbro · 1 year
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well apparently angst is in the air today and it bit me too so
i've always examined vince vs jay from his own perspective but what do pule and verica even think.
edit post-writing this: oh this is a hot pile of half-formatted brain vomit. click the read more at your own risk. my goal was to get my thoughts straight, and i did, and now this is a mess and i'm not fucking fixing it
pule did his grieving while he was still human, i think. he never did expect to see jay again, but once he remembers the worst period of his fucking life while sitting next to the two (well, 1.9) people who notable weren't there for it, it's... well, a shock is putting it lightly, i imagine. they know his name, they have the right vibes that, despite the fact he'd never felt them as human like he could now as a warframe with transference, just fit - mostly. not all of it is correct, but enough is, and the second he manages to ask if it's jay, he gets swiftly but gently corrected, that, well, yes, but also it's vince now.
once he finds out Why it's vince now, pule struggles hard with being confronted with the walking, breathing truth of accidentally getting his best friend actually killed for a while still. part of the grieving process gets reset entirely, and as friend fashion show has pointed out so excellently, it does do pule a lot of good to hang out a lot with others (bruiser, notably) that he doesn't have a painful shared past with. the threads he dropped with jay are easy to pick back up with vince, though: sharing old jokes and making new ones referencing stuff only they know, ways of thinking that are still almost identical after years of close friendship, etc. they grew together for a significant formative period of their lives, and that still affects just how suited to be each other's friend they are.
verica has a more complex headspace around this. she actively searched for him, knowing that he hadn't died but instead had become a warframe, even though he stopped pinging on the orokin radars even before she got apprehended and warframe'd herself. there's such a huge chance that he's dead, but dammit, if anyone can do the impossible, it should be the mathematician who'd managed to put a pencil into a pocket dimension between solid reality & the poisonous void. and she's... partially right.
when she wakes up on kelth's orbiter, she's going to think the idiot before her is jay. he'd done it, he'd managed to come back from the dead, and found her scattered clues. and, well, we know it isn't really jay anymore. he doesn't even confess the whole thing, at first - he just says, well, i go by vince now. and she rolls with it completely because why wouldn't she. it's only when the cracks start to show, both in his behaviour and in one certain scene between the three of them that i'm sure i'll die two and a half times while writing before i'll get it just right, that she actually realises that Nope, Not Jay. Not Like That Anymore.
she struggles with even just accepting it in her head, at first - he's so much like jay, pinging Correct in so many little ways, but he's Not, calling him by that name hurts him, and thinking of him as jay is wrong for the person vince is now. she goes through the period of grief she hadn't allowed herself even before everything.
and now, all three of them are in the same space, grieving the shit that happened to them, that one of them had to die, but at least they now have each other again. for reasons mentioned before, bonds with vince are built up extremely fast, and they quickly get to the same level of friendship they were at with jay. they go beyond, even - vince needs them more than jay did, even if he might not want to phrase it like that to not force them into anything, but they respond to it in kind. one of the consequences of the way warframes are fundamentally changed, made more rigid and less flexible, from humans in my lore makes it so that they will seek out familiarity at ridiculous costs. removing the memories from fresh frames was a fix for that by the orokin, but you can't just make something Rigid/Inflexible, apply a Change, and expect it to not eventually pop back into its original shape like memory foam.
pule & verica is also an interesting initial dynamic, i think. pule feels guilty for, well, everything - he's still under the impression that he'd gotten ghosted for life, and the fact that the warframe he'd been glaring at from the corner of his eyes, the one that had looked way too much like the recently-vanished artist octavia to be anything like a respectful tribute, had actually been her all along and he hadn't even bothered to look into it- he does struggle with it. of her own part, verica's shocked to see him at all, didn't realise that he'd whole ass up and volunteer for the program if she also disappeared, didn't realise that sitting down and letting herself grieve with him had also been an option. i imagine she does also initially carry some guilt over this, though she gets over hers significantly faster than pule does, both because it's just Less Significant Levels of Guilt & because she's just way more prone to Alright Oops Let's Move On than he is (hi. musician who's been in public about it here. making mistakes & moving on like nothing happened is a Necessary & Learned Skill. show must go on & all that)
i think pule would initially expect her to be hostile towards him, after he gets over the shock of "holy shit you're a warframe too? holy shit you're That Warframe? i was never ghosted on purpose??". but 1. even if she did have the right to get hostile, which she knows she doesn't, it wouldn't do anything, and 2. buddy friend we're still here after everything why would i be mad about getting this second chance at life. i've already lost my other friends and family and everything from that life, just let me hang on to you and this other idiot with all the strength left in me.
anyway, that's how the three of them become inseparable on an almost-physical level. a true triad. they get a shared bedroom and sleep together in a pile and everything. you'll find out
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its-raining-cats · 9 months
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Goodbye ninja you son of a bitch. See you next summer when the level cap is increased.
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onefey · 1 year
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oooo, him running a kingambit just entirely wrong especially fits with bw2 where the physical hydregion is. fits in really well with him seemingly losing the ability to actually Strategize or Care. (also GODS the physical hydregion gives me an aneurysm as someone who uses it pretty often myself - SIR it was perfect in bw just leave it BE-). the hubris got to him and now he cannot be expected to give a singular damn about how these guys best work, just gotta hit the thing REAL HARD with as little thought as possible and maybe the problem will go away akdbdjnd
^^^ you get it anon
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I had a Castlevania hyperfixation for literally one hour. Dammit.
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kyofsonder · 2 years
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Friday Kiss Tag!
Thank you for the tag, @aohendo!
Rules: Post a kiss between your OCs for Friday. Can be as light as a peck or as intense as a makeout. Can be platonic, romantic, or familial. As long as a kiss occurs, it’s fair game!
I’ll pass the tag along to @calicojackofficial, @midnights-melodiverse, & @on-noon if they feel inspired or have scenes they can use for this prompt. No pressure, of course! Also, any mutual who feels inspired when they read this can consider themselves unofficially tagged as well.
I chose my triad from my novel WIP “Apricots” for this scene, and accidentally gave myself a lot of feelings -- as writing OCs tends to do. It's a wholesome scene, but it's 600+ words thanks to me getting carried away, so I'll put it under a cut.
It’s rare that a ghost says something that confuses him. Kade has been speaking their language and seeing the world through their eyes for so long, he’s even gained the ability to see patterns in their nonsense. This is new. He tells Jess as much, using small noises and motions and tearing a leaf off of a nearby tree to drop it lazily on the ground. Aimless. Directionless. He’s lost. He needs her to explain. She laughs, and though the sound is nothing like her living laugh it tingles along the palms of his hands as if she’s tracing her fingers there. An echo of closeness. Affection. The way things used to be between them. Then she hops, popping out of existence and reappearing a few inches from Ian’s face. He’s been reading a book Jess had gifted him, sitting under a tree while his partners have their usual conversation he can’t understand – or even completely see, lacking Kade’s magic. He’s too absorbed in it to even notice the shift in the air around him or the way a non-mage would see a breeze pass through his hair and fluff up his bangs. Jess leans in and part of her face passes through Ian’s forehead as she mimes the act of kissing him. Then she floats herself to a space in the air precisely, perfectly in between Ian and Kade. She explains. Small noises and motions and intent, the stacking of three fallen leaves on top of each other. Oh. Of course. It’s something she’d asked for so many times when she was alive, teasing and playful and full of love. He should have known she wasn’t asking him for the impossible. Kade passes through her, shuddering slightly at the cold, and over to his boyfriend. He straddles Ian’s lap and taps the book twice – their code for wanting attention, but not for an emergency. The book is gently folded closed and set to the side, a question on Ian’s lips quickly interrupted when Kade presses his forehead against his boyfriend’s. Ian understands this, too, and gives a small, loving smile.He presses back and that’s all the permission Kade needs. He kisses Ian’s forehead right where Jess had, then uses his hands to gently guide the other man into a soft kiss. His lips taste of the apricot tea he always drinks, and the feeling is warm and soothing. Kade melts into Ian’s lap, curling up as he suddenly feels a relaxed sleepiness he hasn’t been able to recreate for months. Jess sits down next to him, satisfied, and passes her fingers through his hair so rhythmically it looks as if the breeze itself is in love with him.
“Are you done talking with Jess?” Ian puts his hands in Kade’s hair, too, brushing out tangles with his fingers in a way Jess can’t anymore. 
“She told me to kiss you for her,” Kade whispers, slowly pulling the words out of both his chest and his mind at once as he reels himself back from the language of the dead, “I kissed you for me, too. She’s happy right now. Next to us.” 
“Oh,” the sound is almost like a ghost’s voice in itself, echoes of feelings and wishes woven into it, “Thank you. For making us both happy.” 
Kade just hums, snuggling into both their touches. He doesn’t have words to say that they make him just as happy, that he’s grateful he can still see and speak to Jess now that she’s a spirit – as forgetful and unlike herself as she can be in this state, that he can feel a warmth all around him that isn’t there at all. It’s becuase of this ability, after all, that he can experience this moment where it doesn’t feel like Jess left her boys behind. For just a moment, it’s as if she’s with both of them again. Together.
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subconsciousmysteries · 8 months
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this song makes me feel like all the 4/8s i've loved before are in the room with me. incredible
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ozzgin · 5 months
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Yandere! Yakuza x Reader (V)
In a rather unlucky turn of events, you find yourself kidnapped for being in the wrong place during a gang war. Worry not, your yakuza boyfriend is at your service. Yet another bloody reason not to mess with him.
Content: female reader, organized crime, violence, gore, obsessive behavior
[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5]
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"Damn it!"
The scarred man throws another tile into the pile, clicking his tongue.
"I gotta say, you're pretty good for a foreigner." A second man with an eyepatch remarks, carefully inspecting his set before retrieving a tile of his own. "Pung."
You take another greedy sip of the cheap sake and slam the little cup back on the table.
"Kind of inevitable to learn mahjong when your only friends in this country are yakuza." You look up towards your captor with a frown. "You guys ever heard of board games or something?"
"Try to explain new rules to this dumbass!" A third man angrily pours himself another glass, pointing towards the first. "Fuck, I could iron clothes on that smooth brain of yours!"
"Fuck off, you're not any better." The scarred man continues his turn with furrowed brows. 
"If I were you I'd keep quiet about being pals with the yakuza. They'll question you, too, after the office guy. Don't make it worse." The man wearing an eyepatch mentions in a lowered voice. The table suddenly goes quiet.
"When is he coming out?" You ask hesitantly, bile pooling in your mouth. You already suspect the answer.
"He's not. Bodies are discarded through the back entrance." He pats the ash off and takes another drag off his cigarette. 
You swallow. 
Being involved with the Triad was not part of your new year resolutions, yet here you are about to be interrogated by the local Chinese syndicate. At least the lackeys have taken pity on you, a poor civilian caught in the middle of their rivalry. Hence the fake sense of normalcy as you chitchat at the mahjong table with a cup of sake to ease your wrecked nerves. 
"I'm guessing they won't be as friendly back there." You nod towards the door, where they took your work superior several hours ago. 
"No." 
That's all you get and you can only smile bitterly. Huh. You wonder if this is how Daitou's victims feel, helplessly waiting for whatever is brought upon them. Having to watch him unwrap his tool belt, stuffed with rusty old tools littered in blotches of dried up blood. Pondering his questions while he eyes the row delectably, hovering his hand over the potential ways to loosen up your tongue.
Would they torture you, too? Hopefully not. It should be rather obvious you're just a mere civilian. Then again, if your work superior mentioned anything about you being Daitou's girlfriend...He's never told you anything downright incriminating, but it'll be hard to convince these fellows that you truly are clueless.
Maybe they'll let you go if you offer your finger as a token of peace. Your forehead wrinkles at the thought. Isn't it more of a Japanese custom anyways? And if they say yes, then what? Do they provide you with the required utensils or are you expected to improvise on the spot?
You remember one of Daitou's seniors describing the process in great detail during the Christmas party. You had asked him about it, purely out of curiosity, and he certainly delivered almost more than your stomach was able to handle (Daitou scolded him later for telling you too much). You take the tatami mat and preferably wrap it in cloth, to soak up the blood. Any sharp blade will do, but traditionally you'd be offered a proper tantō that can easily slice through the bone. Obviously you want to cut as little as possible, so you still have some functionality remaining. Right above the joint. You must put all of your body weight into the thrust, otherwise the cut won't be clean and it turns into a mess. 
Hell. You wipe the cold beads of sweat that have formed on your face. You can barely chop an onion. Maybe one of the gangsters has enough experience and goodwill to offer to do it for you. Then you only have to clench your teeth and prepare for the blow. It can't be that bad. Surely the shock will be too great, and your brain won't even register it. Before you know it, they'll dip your hand in ice and rush you to someone fit to perform the aftercare. Yeah. That should to the trick. 
"Hey, foreigner. It's your turn."
"Leave her be, can't you see she's pale?"
You glance up and notice the men looking at you expectantly. They've already showed you plenty of kindness from the moment they shoved you in that black van with the rest of the office workers. Perhaps you can rely on them one final time. You suddenly bow, head pressing against the table. They're somewhat startled by your gesture. 
"I'm deeply sorry to ask, but might any of you be knowledgeable in blades?"
"H-huh? What for?"
You ceremoniously slam your hand onto the table, rattling the mahjong tiles. You struggle to let the words out, but try to maintain a straight face, picturing Shozo Hirono's cool attitude when he performed the deed himself in Battles without Honor and Humanity. 
"Would your Boss be satisfied with a yubitsume? I cannot offer anything else of use."
You feel a harsh hand smack against the back of your neck and you cough, taken out of your focus.
"Dumbass! What the hell are you talking about? Why would our Boss need the finger of a civilian, and a woman on top of that? 笨人!" The man with an eyepatch is red and flustered as he scolds you. The other two are holding back their snickers, amused by the scene.
"Let her! I have a knife on me right now." The scarred man comments with a grin. "Whaddaya say, kid? Or have you changed your mind already?"
"A man never goes back on his word." You bark and straighten your back, crossing your arms imposingly. 
The eyepatch man smacks you again and the other two begin clapping, terribly entertained by your tomfoolery. 
The spectacle doesn't last long. Within seconds, you jump out of your seat at the sound of rapid gunshots and scattered, erratic shouts.
Daitou bows before his Seniors and mumbles a polite, monotonous greeting. It's highly unusual to have the Lieutenants gathered at the office like this. Kazuya is fidgeting in his seat, Boss is away on a trip. What else could require everyone's immediate attendance? He makes his way to the blonde man and drops himself on the sofa, awaiting the details. 
"Wakasugi has been taken."
A chaotic murmur ensues. 
"He's been making offers for a building in a neutral area. That's where the Chinese sell their drugs and they claim it to be their turf. I hear some of our newbies got caught dealing that shit as well. Boss has been at their throats for some time now and this is their way to say fuck you."
Ah. More gang rivalry drama. Daitou presses his lips together, trying his best to hold back a yawn threatening to escape his mouth. Hopefully they'll leave him out of it, he has a date planned with you and he'd rather not show up reeking of rotten flesh. 
If you get kidnapped, think of yourself as already dead. The Yakuza doesn't negotiate. They just get their revenge tenfold. Unless it's someone important, like the Boss himself, the honorable way is to die without betraying your Family. 
"Just put a few bullets in them. Should teach them a lesson." He says while stretching. 
"Yeah, we're sending Oota and his men to deal with it. Just be on the lookout." One of the Seniors responds. 
"Still, the fucking guts on them. To show up at the office, right before our eyes-" Another man cries out, frustration in his voice.
"What did you say?" 
Kazuya flinches. He knows where this is going and he glares at the outraged yakuza, trying to silence him. Sadly he doesn't take the hint.
"Right? They just waltzed in, shot some of our guys and took Wakasugi and whoever was nearby. Heh, what are they gonna do with a bunch of office assistants? Extra weight to carry to the dump."
"Enough!" Kazuya's exasperated yell causes everyone to quiet down.
There are several confused looks being exchanged before everyone's eyes eventually rest on Daitou, now staring ahead motionless. Didn't his girlfriend work at that office? The Senior giving out the initial order has realized the mistake. He quickly clears his throat and is about to speak, but Daitou abruptly stands up and heads for the door.
"Oi! I said we're leaving it to Oota. This isn't your job." 
He tries to repeat his words with confidence, but his voice falters towards the end when faced with Daitou's massive frame. Particularly the barrel that's now pressing into his forehead.
"Mind your fucking business or I'll kill you right here." Daitou threatens.
"D-don't think Boss will help you out of this one, brat. If you go, you're disobeying your Senior."
The tall yakuza smirks mockingly. 
"See if you can run for Boss with your skull split open, bitch."
Kazuya slaps the gun aside and steps between the men.
"Just let him go. I'll take responsibility." He pleads, his friend already slamming the door behind him. 
Once the aggressor has left, everyone exhales discreetly in relief.
"He'll get us in trouble with the cops." The Senior retorts to the blonde in a berating tone.
"What else do you suggest? You know there's no way around it if he's pissed."
No one replies to what seems to be an universally agreed upon truth.
He blows out the smoke and crushes the cigarette under his foot. Fuck. He needs to calm down. They most likely haven't killed you, but if they laid a single hand on you...He's blacking out again. Whatever blinding rage possessed him back in his youth, when his Boss got wounded, would now pale in comparison. His ears are ringing and his vision is foggy. He can't even recall how he made it to their building. Or how he got past the guards. Although that one's easy to figure out, judging from their twisted throats. 
He checks his rounds one final time and kicks the heavy metal door open. Only about a dozen of them, but no sign of you yet. Should take a minute. It is time for him to pay his respects. 
"What the fuck was that?" the scarred man swiftly takes out his weapon and knocks the stool over with his foot.
If it is who you think it is...Your face twists in fear.
"Listen, you've been nice to me so I don't want to see you dead. Could you...could you leave, please? It might be someone I know and I promise you there's no point in fighting back."
The noticeable quiver in your speech might lead one to believe you're awaiting your executioner, not your savior and boyfriend. But you've seen Daitou angry and the ordeal flooded the very marrow of your bones with terror. Naturally he could never be upset at his darling for any reason, ever. Whoever poses a threat to you, however, can't say the same thing. You remember trying to pull him back from a random drunk that had groped you during an outing, and he tightly gripped your jaw with a bloodied hand and nearly ordered you in a ragged growl: "Hey. I said I'll be done in a moment. Be a good girl and close your eyes." 
Thus, from experience, you know he'd never listen to your pleas. Maybe if he was lucid enough, but not in this manic state. The man wearing an eyepatch scans your expression attentively. Your worry is genuine and the other room is gradually becoming quieter, but not in a way that'd inspire him confidence. He certainly doesn't feel like dying today and there's nothing honorable about throwing yourself into a senseless battle. He nods at the other two men and he asks you one last time if you'll be fine by yourself, to which you shake your head vehemently. Please go away already. 
The final obstacle crumbles under Daitou's weight and you fiddle with your glass, alone, at the mahjong table. He seems to be taken aback and once he confirms you're not in any pain or discomfort, his demeanor switches within an instant. 
"Where's everyone?"
"They ran away."
"Just like that? And left you here?" He stares at you, baffled.
"Maybe there's some still in the back. These ones left because I asked them to."
He approaches you, still bewildered and confused. He looks like a lost dog.
"What? They were nice to me and I didn't want you to kill them. You never listen when I tell you to stop." You huff, pouting and folding your arms.
"Sorry. I got a little bit anxious." He kneels before you and extends a hand apologetically. "Friends again?"
"Wash your hands at least, I don't want to know what organ remains you have stuck through your fingers."
He chuckles and wipes the palm against his shirt. You follow his movements and notice the bullet wounds near the ribcage. This madman. You speedily bend to his level and remove his jacket to inspect the injuries.
"Christ. Take off your shirt and let's at least stop the bleeding before we leave. How the hell can you still stand with all these holes in you?"
Daitou unbuttons his shirt obediently and you try to wrap it around his abdomen. You notice the thick, wide scar crossing his stomach, presently smeared with blood. Either his or someone else's. 
"Now that I think about it, how did you get this scar? From a gang fight as well?"
"Oh no, I got this in prison. I was supposed to serve many more years, but one of the Seniors rang and said Boss needs me for something. They were in talks with the police chief to maybe bribe my way out. 
But I felt terrible knowing that Boss would be wasting money on my mistakes. At the time the place was overcrowded, so I figured they'd let me out for medical emergencies. So I cut my stomach open and they counted it as a suicide attempt." He responds with a proud grin. 
You grimace a little at the mental image. 
The cloth has been tightly, albeit clumsily secured around his gashes and you both get up. It occurs to you that throughout this mess you haven't feared for your life once. It feels like Daitou is always there to get you out of trouble. Despite his unorthodox methods.
You gaze up at him and notice the prosthetic eye has rolled inwards, so you adjust it slightly with your finger. He follows your romantic gesture with a quick peck on the lips. 
"You'll get yourself killed one day." You whine, tired.
"And leave you alone? Never. You're stuck with me for life."
He flashes you a wide smile and pats your head.
"Can we still go on that date?" The yakuza suddenly remembers, guiding you as you zigzag your way among fresh corpses.
So he hasn't forgotten. A faint blush dusts your cheeks.
"Sure, but I'd like to have a bath first."
"Then let's have one together." He suggests cheerfully, completely unbothered by whatever just happened.  
Tags: @yandere-city2 @lokiofasgard12 @zeniiis @lucienbarkbark @channelinglament @your-next-daydream @bath1lda @murder-hobo @zanzie
(hopefully I didn't forget anyone)
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peachsukii · 2 months
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twisted in bedsheets ꒰ tangled hearts series - kiribaku x fem!reader ꒱ ⇢ with establishing your triad out of the way, there's no more awkward tension between you and the boys! now, there's a different kind of tension when the three of you can't get enough of one another.
꒰ tags & content ꒱ 18+ MDNI! - Smut; non-threesome scenarios (boys get you separately), some praise, pet names, fingering, oral (m!giving & f!receiving), some dirty talk | mutual pining, fluff, poly!kiribaku 。‧˚ʚ cross posted to ao3  | wc; ~1.5k ɞ˚‧。 ✿ tangled hearts masterlist ✿
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Your back pressed into the plush of the sofa, dress shoved up your midsection as you squirmed about, Bakugo’s face stuffed between your thighs. His crimson stare is locked on to your face, watching how your cheeks flush and the way you bite your lip anytime his tongue lazily rolls over your swollen clit.
Who would have thought you’d end up under Bakugo’s spell so early in the morning? You’d only meant to stop by on your day off, dropping off some vegetables he asked you to pick up from the local market.
[you] i’m headed to the market this morning. you need me to pick anything up for dinner tonight?
[katsu 🐯🧡] you off today? if you wanna grab tomatoes and onions, that’d be great. the one’s in the garden aren’t ready yet.
[you] yeah, my boss is at a conference so no need for any of us to be at the office today and tomorrow. sure! i’ll swing by after to drop them off.
[katsu 🐯🧡] thanks sweets. door’s open, see ya soon.
[you] 💖
You let yourself in with the bags of groceries, setting your own by the door and bringing his into the kitchen. Bakugo pops out of his office, strutting into the kitchen to greet you.
“Hey sweetheart,” he says, leaning down to give you a light kiss. He notes the sundress you were wearing - one of his favorite designs from last year’s summer collection. It continued to amaze him that you had an entire wardrobe around his clothes - fate works in mysterious ways.
“Damn, that dress fits you perfectly.”
Bakugo’s eyes wander down your body, scanning every detail and how the fabric hugs your figure. While you’re unloading the vegetables onto the counter, he shifts behind you and places his hands on your waist. His fingers dance over the dress, playfully squeezing your hips and rubbing his thumbs in circles on your sides.
“I’m sure you’ve never heard of the designer,” you tease, giggling as you turn to face him. Bakugo picks you up and places you on the counter, moving between your legs to get closer to you. He gives you a few gentle kisses on your cheek and down your neck, hands roaming down your sides and over your thighs. Your previous giggles quickly turn into soft moans, the close proximity of your bodies instantly lighting the fire in your belly.
Bakugo pulls back for a moment, tilting his head at your reaction. “Is this okay with you?”
“Yes, more than okay.” You lace your arms around his neck and wrap your legs around his waist, trapping him against your body and the counter.
“God, you’re gorgeous,” he rasps before capturing your lips, bringing one of his hands to cradle the back of your neck while the other holds onto your bare thigh.
It doesn't take long for things to escalate, hence your current position on the couch. Bakugo brings your attention back to reality when one of his fingers slips into your soaked core, curling it against your inner walls as he nibbles on your inner thigh. Your mewls drive him wild, increasing the tempo of his finger thrusting in and out of you. The way your body reacts to his touch is intoxicating and he couldn't get enough of it.
"Fuck princess, you're so wet," Bakugo praises, removing his finger and replacing it with his tongue to gather up your arousal. The grip he has on your thighs is tight enough to leave bruises. You can feel the tension in your stomach grow in intensity with each lap of his tongue, stumbling closer toward orgasm.
"Katsuki...don't stop," you whine as your thighs begin to tremble under his palms.
"Didn't plan to, baby."
The way 'baby' falls from his lips is enough to thrust you over the edge, the pet name immediately snapping your internal thread. You fist a handful of his blonde locks by the root, practically riding his face when you come - hard. It's enough to leave you gasping for air, not realizing the breath you were holding until your release tapers off. Your fingers slip from Bakugo's hair, letting him rise from between your legs. His lips and chin glisten with your spend.
"Can...I do anything for you?" you ask breathlessly, tugging him upward and kissing his forehead.
“Don’t wanna spoil dinner,” he hums, nuzzling into your chest. “I’ll have you for dessert later.”
The image of Bakugo ravaging you while Kirishima watches, patiently waiting for his turn and teasing the two of you floods into your mind.
Fuck.
After laying on the couch together for a little while, you head home with your groceries after the blissful encounter with Bakugo, letting him continue working. He made sure to give you a long and loving kiss goodbye, followed by a smack on your ass that you’ll be vibrating from the rest of the day.
───
It’s the early afternoon - you’ve got a few hours to kill before dinner with the boys. You pull your phone out to text Kirishima, offering to bring him an afternoon pick me up as an excuse to see him.
[you] i dropped by the house earlier to give kat some veggies for dinner. are you busy with any classes right now? i’ll bring you a snack!
[eiji 🥊❤️] sure! swing on by, i’ll be in the upstairs office. 🥰
───
A knock on Kirishima’s office door catches his attention, eyes darting over to you in the doorframe. His smile is instant, his signature big toothy grin plastered on his face when he sees you.
“Hi honey! Come in,” he exclaims, waving you inside. You step in and close the door as he’s wrapping his toned arms around you, peppering your head and cheeks with endless kisses.
“Someone’s in a good mood,” you chuckle, finally able to give him a kiss on the lips.
He bends next to your ear, the hand on your back firmly pressing you against his chest. “Just thinkin’ about tonight’s dessert menu.”
How did he know about that?
As if reading your mind, he continues to whisper into the shell of your ear. “Katsuki texted me a little bit ago about how delicious you tasted.”
A moan bubbles in your throat at his words, flustered that Bakugo bragged to Kirishima about eating you out. When did he do that, after you left the house?
“Oh?” You respond meekly, shivering at his heavy breathing on your neck.
“Mhm, somethin' about how pretty your dress looked pushed up around your waist and how cute your moans sounded.”
Holy shit.
“Fuck, that’s hot,” is all you can say, trying your damndest not to crumble to the floor. You'd never had any partners brag about you like that in the past. Kirishima’s hand on your back shifts to your hip, bunching up the fabric of your dress in his grasp.
“Wanna give me a taste, too?”
It’s comical how fast you scurry over to Kirishima’s desk, dragging him by the hand and inviting him to touch you. He reaches under your dress, dragging your panties down your legs and letting you step out of them. He pushes you back against the wooden desk, lifting you to sit on the end of it.
“Lay back, I got you,” Kirishima purrs, giving you a steamy kiss while shimmying your dress up your frame. Once he’s satisfied with your lips, he takes a knee to the ground and carefully tugs your hips to the edge of the desk. You do as he says, leaning back and propping yourself up on your elbows.
Kirishima stacks your thighs on his shoulders, halting for a second before his mouth becomes flush with your sticky center. You bite your lip, attempting to keep quiet and not draw attention to anyone in the gym on the first floor. He notices your struggle as he flicks his tongue across your clit, grinning between each twitch of your legs.
He leans back, his ruby eyes sparkling with affection. "Kat was right, baby, you're so sweet."
You knew this wouldn't take long with how riled up you are. Between him and Bakugo, they make you feel like an early 20 something all over again. Their desire for you, together and apart, is hypnotic and thrilling.
"Eiji...," you whimper, running a hand through his fiery mane.
Kirishima chuckles, the vibrations sending lightning bolts through your core, winding the band in your abdomen tighter.
"That's it, just relax and let go for me, angel."
The way your body reacts to his command is immediate - spasming as you rode through your orgasm, clutching the desk beneath you. Kirishima groans, lapping up every drop of your spend while squeezing your thighs playfully. When he finishes, he gives back your underwear and helps you off the desk.
"Head on home. If you stay here any longer, I won't be able to wait until after dinner for more," Kirishima demands, squeezing your waist before kissing you on the cheek and returning to his desk.
You shake your head, attempting to rid your cheeks of the blush on them before leaving the office. When you step outside, your phone dings with a text message.
[katsu 🐯🧡] you better still be wearing that dress tonight.
⋆ ˚ʚɞ — even though the three of you have had plenty of fun together by now, being able to get your share of both of them individually is exhilarating. 💜 ✿ wildflowers; @maddietries @smolbeanzzz @camila2201 @lik0 @pixel4ffecti0n @moonlight-dreamer04 @lumi-cent
↶ | previous entry (delicate (isn't it?)) ↷ | next entry (sweet like honey)
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Second Choices
Pairing: Cassian x Reader
Masterlist
A/N: I hope this makes sense lol. I opened my planning doc for the next part of Triad, read the three sentences I had written there, and then closed it and went back to a random drabble in my notes app that exploded into this. So… enjoy, I guess? There will be three parts of this total, so click here to be added to the taglist to be notified when those go live!
Warnings: Angst, drinking, drug use (slightly forced, if you squint?), a little hint of smut at the end but it doesn't progress very far
“Y/N is a bitch,” Braelie whined, voice echoing out from the restroom’s open door. Mor sighed, snapped the cap back onto her signature red lip gloss, then turned towards Cassian’s female-du-jour. She was pretty, in an artificial sort of way. Her foundation, a shade too light, was caked on with a thick layer of matte powder that swallowed the light when it hit her face, leaving her skin dull and sullen. The dark eye makeup and too-bright lipstick made her look like a doll, and not the kind for children.
“Listen, Brae,” Mor hoped that using a nickname would soften the major blow she was about to land. She reached out and laid a light, comforting hand onto one bony shoulder. “Y/N and Cassian have been friends for a long time. I won’t lie to you, sometimes the lines get blurred when they’re both single. She’s probably having some complicated feelings, since you’re so pretty,” Mor rushed to add that last part when Braelin’s lower lip wobbled. Then she prayed to the Mother for your forgiveness and said, lowering her voice to a whisper, “she’s probably just jealous.”
That put a spark back into Braelie’s eyes, and Mor cringed. She added Cassian to her list of prayers as Braelie flounced away in search of him.
Cassian hovered with his hand on the doorknob, ready to duck out the side door to sneak in a quick smoke break while Braelie freshened up with Mor. 
Braelie was hot, sure, but Cauldron she was dumb. If Cassian had to hear the words, “wait, really?” one more time, he might not make it long enough to get her into his bed tonight. Just a few puffs of mirthroot would dull the edges of his brain enough to find her cluelessness endearing. 
She wasn’t the most exciting company, but she was reliable, and he needed that. He’d broken things off with Skyla three weeks earlier and knew that he was dangerously close to doing the one thing he wore he’d stop doing, so he went out one night, alone, and found Braelie. 
After overhearing Mor’s words, he felt guilt roiling deep in his gut. So he smoked half a joint and headed back inside. He danced with her and thought of you. Walked her home and thought of you. She invited him in for a drink and pressed her too-pink lips against his. 
He thought of you. 
Afterward, he wrapped one arm around her shoulders and waited until her breathing slowed before sneaking out through the window. He shoved off of the sill and let his wings fully expand, catching the wind and sending him soaring into the early morning sky. 
You hadn’t meant for Cassian’s latest fling to overhear you calling her a “Cauldron-damned floozy,” but it had happened anyway. 
“She’s soooooo annoyingggg,” you slurred, taking another swig from the wine glass in your hand. You let your head fall back until it landed on Azriel’s shoulder. He chuckled and you felt his shadows nipping at your cheeks, lightly scolding you for being bitchy. They tickled like tiny, ice-cold kisses, but that wasn’t enough to stop you. “Seriously, Az. I dunno what Cas sees in her. She’s just another Cauldron-damned floozy, good for keeping his bed warm and not much else.” 
Mor had managed to redirect Braelie towards the restrooms after that, leaving you alone in the booth with Az, completely oblivious. 
Azriel’s shadows had alerted him to her presence, and a smirk graced his lips. He sensed some major drama brewing and relished in his position at the sidelines. 
“Why, Y/N, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you sound jealous,” he drawled. You let your head loll to the side so you could glare at him, which coaxed a bark of laughter from his lips. 
The first coherent thought you had the next morning was water. I need water. You dragged yourself out of bed and trudged into the bathroom, gulping mouthful after mouthful straight from the faucet. 
But water could only do so much for a hangover, so you threw a robe over your pajamas and tiptoed down the Townhouse stairs. It was nearing noon but, based on the disheveled state everyone had returned in last night, you didn’t want to risk waking anyone and incurring their hungover wrath. 
Outside the kitchen, you heard low, muffled voices and paused to listen before entering. Mother forbid you end up interrupting Cassian and Braelie’s post-coital feast. Cauldron, even her name was annoying. 
“I just don’t understand why Y/N would say something like that,” you heard Cassian say, wincing as memories from last night flooded your brain. 
“Look, Y/N’s your best friend, I’m sure she’s just feeling put out now that you’re spending so much time with Braelie,” Az said, careful to keep his tone neutral. 
“Well she doesn’t have to be such a bitch about it.” 
You turned away and snuck back up the stairs to change into real clothes, deciding that breakfast at your favorite cafe was in order. Preferably paired with a mimosa or five. 
— 
Az sighed and took a sip of tea to buy himself some time to think. He’d stayed up with Mor until sunrise, talking about their clueless friends. 
While your comments about Cassian’s love life had been funny the first few times, after more than three decades, it was getting old. They recognized a pattern repeating itself ad nauseam; Cassian gets a new girlfriend, you distance yourself from him and start grumbling about the girls’ flaws, then when Cas eventually dumped her you’d be back to being best friends like no time had passed at all. And if you both happen to be single, well, sometimes after smoking too much mirthroot you’d end up all over each other. In a friendly way, of course. 
This time, though, you’d been much more open about your hatred for Braelie despite the fact that she was one of the more tolerable ‘floozies’  they’d had to deal with over the years. She was dumb but harmless, and soon enough Cassian would tire of her, resetting the cycle once again. 
So they’d decided to divide and conquer; Mor was going to try and get it through your thick skull that you’re in love with Cas, while Az was tasked with showing the General what was right in front of him. 
Easier said than done. So he decided to go for the jugular. 
“Well, it’s not like you have the best track record with females. Maybe Y/N’s gotten tired of playing nice when you’ve got someone new on your arm every other week.”
“Last I checked that wasn’t a crime.” 
Az held his hands up, raising one eyebrow at Cas. 
“Don’t shoot the messenger. If it’s really bothering you, why don’t you talk to her? I’m sure if you asked her to lay off Braelie she would.”
Cas ducked his head to hide the heat rushing to his face and mumbled something incoherent into his chest. 
“Sorry, brother, what was that? I couldn’t hear you over the sound of my shadows laughing at your blush.”
“I broke up with her this morning,” Cas growled, tightening his grip on the mug in his fist. 
Azriel cackled, laughter only growing louder when Cas glared at him. 
“It’s not funny,” Cas insisted, launching his teaspoon over the table. Az’s shadows caught it before it could make contact, turning Cas’s glare into a downright glower.  
“Alright, alright, it’s not funny. You’re just predictable, that’s all.” 
After stewing in silence for a few minutes, Cas felt his self control crumbling. Words bubbled up from his chest, through his throat, and then he was rambling. 
“I overheard Mor telling Braelie that Y/N was jealous of her,” he pushed his chair back and started pacing back and forth across the kitchen. “And at first I thought, no way, that’s crazy, if Y/N was jealous I would know. But I couldn’t stop thinking about it. She always gets weird whenever I’m dating someone, right?”
“Maybe you should talk to her about it,” Az suggested, leaning back in his seat. Just a friend offering a casual, off-the-cuff solution to a problem he knows nothing about. 
“Yeah, maybe…”
Mor tracked you down later that afternoon, sprawled out on a blanket next to the Sidra and halfway through a bottle of vintage red imported from the Summer Court. 
“Heyyy,” you greeted her, pushing yourself up into a sitting position and holding the bottle out towards your friend. “Come to join the pity party?” 
Mor eyed you, curiosity and amusement sparking behind her honey brown eyes, and she accepted your offering. 
“And why are we having a pity party?” she asked, plopping down next to you and taking a long pull from the bottle. 
“Cause I fuck everything up, duh.” You flopped back down, this time onto your stomach. “Cassian hates me, but whatever. I’m sure he and Braelie are going to be very happy together.”
Mor had to force her eyes not to roll at your drunken dramatics. 
“I’m gonna find a boyfriend, that way when they break up Cas can’t come crawling back to me with his dick in his hand. See how he likes it.” You made grabby hands for the bottle but Mor shook her head, keeping it held just out of your reach. 
“Or you could try telling him how you feel?” She suggested, casually, as she took another sip. 
You scoffed, hiccuping giggles following as you struggled to keep your composure as mixed emotions ebbed and flowed through your body. 
“Tell him how I feel? Should I tell him it makes my skin itch whenever he dances with another girl? Tell him that I haven’t been able to finish with anyone else since the first time he fucked me? Or maybe I should tell him that he’s my mate, good idea, Mor. Maybe that will make him fall in love with me!” 
Mor let her eyes roll this time, patting you on the back. But when you flipped onto your back, she saw the pain and longing etched into the lines on your face and stared deep into your eyes, waiting for you to laugh and say it was just a joke. 
Unease settled in her stomach. 
“Wait, you’re serious, aren’t you?” she asked. 
“He’s my Cauldron-damned mate, and he doesn’t even know it. He’s too busy burying himself in the hordes of females fawning all over him to notice how much it hurts.” 
“Y/N…how long have you known?” 
“Four years,” you whispered, throwing an arm over your eyes to hide your tears from your oldest friend.
“Oh, babe,” she sighed, tugging you up into her arms. The dam behind your eyes broke and sobs wracked your body while the gears in Mor’s brain started turning. 
When you finally settled in her lap, tears dried up, she hauled you to your feet. “C’mon, let’s get you home.” 
All you managed to mutter was, “Not the Townhouse,” before she winnowed you away.  
Cassian dodged Azriel’s attempts at cheering him up in favor of sulking at the kitchen table all day, waiting for you to wake up. 
When it was nearing dinner time, he sighed and put together a tray of tea and pastries to bring up to you as a peace offering. But after knocking politely on your door for five minutes straight, worry started worming its way into his stomach and he threw open the door to reveal your bed, perfectly made and empty. 
“Fuck,” he growled, throwing the tray down the hallway where it crashed against the wall, broken bits of pottery clattering to the ground. He’d wasted all day waiting for you when you were out doing Mother knows what with Mother knows who. 
Screw apologies, he was on a warpath now.  
He trekked through the busy streets of Velaris looking for any sign of you, starting at Amren’s apartment and making his way through your favorite shops and restaurants with no success. Just when he was about to give up, assuming you were holed up with a male somewhere, he saw Mor ducking into one of the small cafes near the Sidra. 
“Mor!” he shouted, jogging to catch the door before it closed behind her. She turned around, and a look of shock flashed across her face before it smoothed into cool indifference. 
“Cassian,” she said, nodding at him before turning to the hostess stand. “I’m here to pick up a takeout order for Morrigan.” 
The hostess nodded and disappeared into the kitchen to grab the food. Cas reached out and grabbed Mor’s wrist, tugging her around to face him.  
“Where is she?” he asked, barely able to contain the rage flowing through his veins. 
“Not now, Cas,” Mor sighed, wrenching her arm from his grasp. “Trust me. Just give her some space.” 
“I can’t,” he growled, siphons glowing as if they were attempting to warn her that his magic was sizzling just beneath the surface. It felt like something was pulling him along, the desire to find you growing stronger the longer he looked. “I need to find her. Please, Mor.”
The hostess came back and handed a bag to Mor, who promptly turned around and dumped it into Cas’s arms. 
“Fine, then you can take this up to the House of Wind for me. I have some errands to run, you have an hour.” Cas’s face relaxed and he nodded, about to open his mouth to thank her when she waved a hand at him to dismiss him. 
But when they were back outside, she turned around to flash a sickly sweet smile at him. 
“Oh, and Cassian?” His eyes widened as he froze in place, wings spread and ready to take off. “If you hurt her, I will feed you to Bryaxis.” 
With that, she disappeared and Cassian took to the skies wondering what would be waiting for him when he arrived. 
— 
On the back deck of the House of Wind, you stood leaning against the railing, music swirling around you as you watched the sun sink behind the buildings of Velaris below. Lights blinked on one by one until the whole city was filled with twinkling stars.
With a joint in one hand and a glass of wine in the other, your mind was finally, blissfully, numb. Only the subtle ache deep in your core served as a reminder of your unfortunate situation, but even that was starting to dull. 
Of course, your peaceful night had to be ruined by the one male you had no desire to see. The sound of flapping wings and rushing of air past your face gave you a split-second warning, and then Cassian dropped to the ground behind you. 
You turned around and held the hand with the joint lazily balanced between two fingers at your forehead. 
“General Bloodshed, or whatever the fuck,” you said, wobbling on unsteady feet as you saluted him. Then you lowered your hand and took a long drag, holding the smoke in your lungs for as long as physically possible before letting it out in a steady stream pointed in his direction. “Come to fight for your fair maiden’s honor, or just to rub it in my face that you’re getting laid and you don’t need me anymore?”
“Y/N,” he said, all the anger draining from his body as he took in the bags under your eyes and the heavy winter clothes hanging off your frame even though Summer was right around the corner. It was like he was seeing you for the first time after a long mission away, noticing how much weight you’d lost, how tired your body looked. 
He set the food down on one of the lounge chairs and took slow, careful steps towards you. 
“Y/N,” he repeated, “What’s going on?”
“Nothin’, Cassie, nothin’ at all,” you said, pausing to hiccup before continuing. “I don’t care about Braelie, I don’t care about you, I don’t care about anything.” You thrust your arms out wide and turned to face the sunset, which was now casting a golden glow onto Velaris. “I’ve got a hot date with my fingers later, and I probably won’t even think about you.”
Cas ignored the heat flaring up low in his belly at the mental image that flashed behind his eyes. 
“Hey,” he whispered, coming up next to you and prying the joint from your hand. “Gimme that.” 
You turned to face him, lower lip stuck out in a pout. 
“Why? So you can leave me here and go get high with Braelie? I bet she’s real mouthy. You like em loud, don’t you? Like when females beg for that big Illyrian cock?”
Your voice got higher and higher, becoming breathless as you rambled on, letting all of your deepest, darkest, pent-up thoughts and feelings fall from your lips. Even though you knew you’d regret it in the morning, in the moment it felt so good to let them go. 
“Y/N, stop, just take a breath. I’m not going to leave you, okay!” Cassian stubbed out the joint and tossed it aside, putting his hands on your shoulders to force you to look at him. “I’m not going to see Braelie, I broke up with her this morning.” 
Your eyes glazed over as you looked him up and down, a lazy smirk blooming on your lips. 
“Ohhhh, I see how it is,” you drawled, waving a hand to summon the joint to you. Snapping your fingers to spark it back to life, you took another deep hit and then stuffed the unlit end into Cas’s mouth. He tried to protest but you held firm until he finally inhaled. Its effects hit immediately, and you watched as his shoulders drooped, muscles relaxing. With a wicked grin, you dropped from his loosened grip to your knees, palming his dick through his leathers. “Want me to kiss it better, put your broken heart back together?” 
A war waged behind Cas’s eyes; on the one hand, the mirthroot was clouding his judgment and lust threatened to take over at the sight of you looking up at him with wide eyes.  
On the other hand, he had set out to make things right, to talk to you and figure out the true nature of your feelings for him. Sleeping with you would send the wrong message. 
“Y/N, stop,” he grunted, pulling his hips back and shoving your hand away. 
“What?” you asked, your pout back in full force. “Want me to beg for it first, cause you know I will? Know I’ll give you anything you want?” You shoved yourself up to your feet, pushing onto your tiptoes so your narrowed eyes bore right into Cassian’s. 
He felt the tension that had been building all day melt away—the anger, the frustration, the confusion—all of it was gone with a snap of golden magic that flooded his body. 
You felt it, too, from your side of the bond, could see the moment it registered behind those hazel eyes. It felt like the bond was on your side, snapping just in time to help you prove a point.
“I’m done being your second choice, mate,” you snarled, plucking the joint from his hand before turning around and stalking into the house, leaving him stranded alone in the darkness. 
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danikamariewrites · 2 months
Text
Together for the First Time
Feysand x reader
A/n: happy Poly week! I’m so excited to be doing this and reading what everyone else has come up with. Today is Day 1 which is beginnings. I decided to do when Feysand and reader start being open with the Inner Circle about their relationship and of course Cassian’s inability to keep a secret. @polyacotarweek
Warnings: none
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For the first time in two hundred years Cassian was actually early for a meeting with his brothers. He even had a lil pep in his step. Things were good, great even. He and Nesta were good, Nyx loved spending time with him, the family was at peace. Nothing could ruin Cassian’s day.
A giggle from inside Rhys’s office interrupted his thoughts. It sounded unfamiliar.
Creeping closer to the door Cassian finds it cracked open. Willing his massive body to be stealthy he holds his breath and listens.
That sweet giggle rings through the room again along with Rhys and Feyre’s laughter. Odd. Cassian wasn’t aware of any other meetings today. He was supposed to take up all of his brothers’ time today.
“Alright,” that voice. Cassian knows that voice. Where has he heard that voice?
“We should probably go get Nyx from his nap together. Since Rhys put him down he’s going to want us.”
Cassian slightly turned his head to look through the cracked door. The sight had his jaw unhinging, practically hitting the floor. Rhys kissing Feyre then you. You, y/n! With his brother and Feyre! When on earth did this happen?
Cassian began to panic. Oh Mother, what if he’s the only one that knows? Cass won’t be able to keep his mouth shut.
As you and Feyre made your way to the door Cassian began to jog as quietly as possible around the corner. Peaking, he watched you and Feyre walk down the hall hand in hand.
Plastering himself against the wall he waits a few moments before heading into Rhys’s office. Composing himself he enters the office ready to give Rhys his update about the Illyrian army.
———
Rhys thought about his brother's odd behavior as he followed the sound of his son's playful giggles. What on earth had Cassian so jumpy and tense?
He shook his head forgetting all about the stressful conversation.
Upon seeing you and Feyre playing with Nyx his smile widened. Sitting on the floor Rhys began to hand his son blocks for the little village he was focused on constructing.
“Are you two sure you want to do this tonight?” You ask from your spot in the corner of the room, propped up by the mountain the size of Ramiel of Nyx’s stuffed toys.
Feyre and Rhys give you a sad look. “Why wouldn’t we be sure?” Rhys coos at you.
You shrug at them, looking away absentmindedly playing with the wing of a stuffed owl. “What if the family doesn’t accept us, me?”
They move to either side of you, squishing you in a side hug. “Of course they will. And even if they don’t it doesn’t matter.” “You’re positive?”
“Sweet girl, you are our mate. Of course we are sure.” Rhys kisses your forehead as Feyre kisses your cheek. Nyx huffs, feeling left out the small boy yells, “Hey! No fair, I want kisses too!” He throws his small body onto the three of you. Knocking you back into the stuffed animals in a fit of giggles.
———
Dinner started with light conversation and a delicious appetizer thanks to Elain. You sit with Rhys and Feyre at the end of the table. Your chair very close to the two of them.
Cassian felt like he was going to explode. He has kept this gods damned secret to himself all day. Another new record.
As the main course appears with a wave of Rhys’s hand he clears his throat. The family’s attention turns to him. All happy and content faces.
“Feyre and I have exciting news to share with you.” The two look at you, bright smiles on their faces as the bond hums between the three of you.
Anticipation coursed through the room as Rhys grasped your hand, giving it a loving squeeze.
“We have discovered a triad bond. Between myself, Feyre, and y/n.” He said happily, beaming at his friends. You couldn’t look at them. Holding your breath your eyes dart around everyone’s faces.
You found nothing but love and acceptance. Mor raised her wine glass, “Congratulations! This is rare, but wow! You deserve all the happiness in the world.”
The rest raise their glasses cheering, “here, here!”
At that hour anxiety was relieved. It seemed so was Cassian’s. After taking a huge gulp of wine Cass he breathed out the loudest sigh of relief. His head hitting the table. “Thank the Mother!” Everyone looked at him, Azriel let out one of those rare laughs at his brother's antics. “Cass?” Feyre asks with a chuckle.
“I saw you and y/n earlier coming out of the office, I also saw you guys in the office because I was early. I’ve been keeping this damn secret all day and thank gods you said something!” He rambled.
“Wait,” Rhys looks at him with a raised brow, “you were early?
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