#Part 1: Found by Mercenaries

[dismalflo]

dinner to stay!

sirius black x reader ✩ 2.1k words

summary: dates with a particular barista have been going exceptionally well. tonight, Sirius is determined to cook dinner for you.

coffee to go! (part 1)

cw: barista!sirius, fluff, alcohol, little bit of awkward n nervous reader

an: all i thought about while writing is the phase of a relationship where domesticity is all new and fun and sweet.

Sirius—the barista who made you dumb—has taken you on a few dates now.

The first was coffee, naturally. He picked a quiet spot tucked away from the bustle, one he'd deliberately chosen because it wasn’t somewhere he’d ever worked before—which, as it turns out, rules out a surprising number of cafés in the city. He made a joke about being a “former coffee mercenary” as he slid your drink across the table, fingers brushing yours just a little too long. You pretended not to notice. Or maybe you didn’t pretend very well.

The second was the art museum, where you drifted together through tall, echoing halls and laughed quietly in the corners of exhibits no one else cared about. That turned into a long walk through the city as the sun sank lower, painting everything gold. Shoulders brushing, and when your hands bumped once, he didn’t pull away. Neither did you.

Then there was dinner. The kind where you both forgot what time it was until the restaurant started dimming the lights and wiping down tables. You left only because you wanted to keep talking, feet wandering nowhere in particular until you found yourselves tucked into the corner booth of a dimly lit bar, music playing just loud enough to let your conversation slip into something softer, closer. Neither of you really wanted to leave.

Each night has lingered longer than the last. Not on purpose, not exactly. Just a pattern you’ve both fallen into, stretching the time like taffy—one more street to walk, one more drink, one more story. An excuse to stay just a little bit longer.

So when he asked—grinning, eyes lazy and knowing—if he could cook you dinner, you said yes before he even finished the sentence.

He’s sweet. Ridiculously so. The kind of sweet that sneaks up on you, folded between his sharp jokes and even sharper cheekbones. He’s kind, too—gentle in the way he listens, thoughtful in ways he doesn’t draw attention to. And unfairly handsome. But beneath all that, he’s a gentleman, through and through.

Except when he isn’t.

Like when he claims he meant to call your mum, not you.

So when he opens the door barely five seconds after you knock, you already know what’s coming.

“Fuck,” he groans, and the corner of your mouth twitches, betraying the grin you’re trying to hold back. “I thought you were your mum.”

“I know,” you sigh, mock-disappointed. “She’s busy with her other boytoy, so she sent me instead.”

He guffaws, already tugging you inside and into a hug. “Oh, you’ve got jokes now? I miss when that kind of talk made you all flustered.”

“You’re too predictable for your own good, Sirius.”

He ushers you in with a grin that’s more boyish than smug. And then—too casually—a kiss is dropped to your cheek. Just a whisper of lips. Barely there. But your heart stutters anyway, completely ignoring your best efforts to play it cool.

“You look lovely, poppet.”

It’s sweet. Too sweet. The kind of compliment that should feel smooth, effortless—but from him, it lands somewhere between disarming and dangerous. You're still learning how to navigate this version of Sirius—the soft-spoken flirt who says things like that and means them. Or maybe he doesn’t. You’re not entirely sure yet.

What you are sure of is that it's becoming comfortable, but even so, you linger in the doorway to the kitchen unsure of what to do or where to place yourself, where you are and aren’t allowed to look. It feels a little like you’re intruding, despite the fact that Sirius’ invite was as enthusiastic as you’ve ever seen him. 

Your eyes follow him as he moves around the kitchen, the ease with which he works is both impressive and amusing.

 After a few seconds of watching you from the corner of his eye, he turns fully, brow raised.

“Why are you still standing there, love?” His voice is warm, teasing—but not unkind. He flicks a hand toward the table. “Come on, make yourself at home. Sit. You’re not gonna be any help in here unless you fancy stirring the sauce?”

It’s an olive branch, and you know it. A very thoughtful attempt at making you comfortable, giving you options. You latch onto it like a lifeline.

“I—I can stir,” you say, the words tripping out too quickly, like your brain wasn’t sure whether to joke or accept. A half-laugh slips free after, nervous and breathy, before you nod like you’re convincing yourself it was the right answer

He smirks, leaning one elbow on the counter like he’s posing for a portrait. “Oh, so you are trying to impress me tonight?”

“In your dreams,” you fire back, but your voice lacks the usual snap. There’s a smile tugging at your lips you can’t quite hide. “I’ll just sit here and let you work your culinary magic, then.”

With a theatrical sigh, he steps toward you, takes your wrist gently and leads you to the table like a dance partner guiding the first move. His fingers are warm. His touch lingers a little longer than it should. You try not to notice, but your body does anyway—heat blooming low and traitorous. Every touch from Sirius is golden.

“Just sit there and look pretty,” he says over his shoulder, like it’s nothing. But there’s a wink with it. A twinkle. It’s enough to send your pulse skittering again.

“That’s more than enough. Anyway—drink? Wine?”

You raise an eyebrow, daring him. “Good wine?”

He snorts, crossing the tiny kitchen like he’s gliding. “You’re about to find out, darling.”

He grabs a bottle of red with one hand, corkscrew already in the other. The ease with which he uncorks it is borderline ridiculous—like he was born in a vineyard. You can’t help but watch the way he moves, the light in his eyes when he’s showing off, even if he pretends he’s not.

He places the glass in front of you with a small, almost shy smile—like he’s waiting for your verdict. You take it with both hands, fingertips brushing the stem like it might steady you.

“Cheers,” he murmurs, gently clinking his glass against yours.

You smile—really smile this time—as the glasses meet.

-

Dinner, as it turns out, is incredible. You don’t even try to hide it when you take the first bite. Sirius watches you expectantly, elbow on the table, fork hovering in mid-air, invested in your reaction.

“Oh my god,” you say around a mouthful, borderline scandalized. “You made this?”

He grins like he’s won an award. “I did warn you I was a man of many talents.”

“You did not. You said, and I quote, ‘I mostly survive on toast and charm.’”

“Which is technically true,” he says, raising his glass with a smirk. “This is a very special occasion. I had to dust off the actual pots.”

You snort into your wine. “Is that why you had to waft the smoke alarm with a tea towel?”

He groans, dragging a hand through his hair. “Okay that was sabotage. I swear I didn’t even burn anything.”

You laugh, and the warmth of it stays with you even after the plates are cleared, glasses topped off, and the kitchen starts to dip into darkness. You offer to help clean up, and Sirius waves you off with a dramatic “Not on your life, doll.” So instead, you find your way to the sofa, toes curling into the rug as you settle into the cushions.

A moment later, he drops down beside you with a satisfied sigh, two fingers brushing casually over your knee as he settles the wine bottle on the coffee table.

And then… you’re just there. Close. Close enough that the heat from his shoulder warms your skin. Close enough that your knees are almost touching. You hadn’t meant to sit this close, but neither of you makes a move to change it.

He turns his head slightly toward you, hair falling into his eyes. “Comfy?”

You nod, and then—with a breath you hadn’t meant to say anything on—you murmur, “Thank you. For tonight. For all of it.”

His brow quirks, smile softening. “You don’t have to thank me.”

“I do, though,” you say, turning to face him more fully. “It’s just… this has been really lovely. You’ve been really lovely.” Your voice dips, a little unsure now that it’s actually coming out. “I don’t know. I guess I just didn’t expect to feel so… happy. Being around you.”

His eyes widen slightly, just for a second, before he beams—this wide, unguarded smile that lights up his whole face. It hits you right in the chest.

“I’m glad,” he says, voice lower now, more sincere than you’ve ever heard it. “Because I feel the same. Every time we hang out, it’s like…” He trails off, looking at you like he’s trying to find the right word. “It’s just easy. Being with you feels… right.”

You don’t say anything at first. You can’t. Not when he’s looking at you like that, like you're some kind of rare find. A small silence stretches between you, but it’s not uncomfortable.

Then, as if drawn by something invisible, your hands find each other in the space between you. His fingers wrap around yours, slow and certain, like he’s done it before in a dream and is just now remembering how.

You glance down at your interlocked hands—his thumb brushing over your knuckles like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. Then you look back up at him.

“That’s what it feels like,” you say quietly. “Right.”

He hums softly at your words, and something shifts behind his eyes—like he’s turning a thought over and over in his head, polishing it until it shines. Then, slow and deliberate, his hand slips from yours.

His fingers brush your cheek first, warm and sure, before they trace upward—tucking a stray lock of hair gently behind your ear. The touch is impossibly tender. It makes your breath catch, your chest rise and fall a little faster. He lingers there a moment longer than necessary, his knuckles brushing against your skin.

His hand drops back to his lap, but the space between you stays charged. Like a wire has been strung taut from his heart to yours, and neither of you wants to pluck it just yet, too scared it might snap.

Swallowing, you think maybe you should say something—but what? That your heart is trying to climb out of your chest? That if he doesn’t kiss you soon, you might never recover?

But you don’t have to say anything. Because Sirius leans in.

Just a fraction.

His eyes flick to your lips. Once. Twice.

He’s giving you time to pull away. Room to say no. But you don’t.

You don’t want to.

So you meet him halfway.

And when you do, it’s like slipping into something you didn’t realize you’d been missing.

His lips are soft, warm—familiar in a way they shouldn’t be, not yet. Not after only a few dates. But they are, and that’s what startles you the most. Not the kiss itself, but the way it fits. Like it was supposed to happen, like the build-up wasn’t nerves or chance or coincidence, but inevitability.

It’s not rushed. Not some fiery, frantic first kiss born from impatience. It’s slow. Lingering. Like he’s learning the shape of your mouth, memorizing it for later. His hand comes up to cradle your jaw—fingers light, thumb grazing your cheekbone—and the gentleness of it nearly undoes you.

You sigh against him, and he catches it with a hum, like he’s been waiting to hear that exact sound.

There’s a moment, brief and dizzying, where time feels completely suspended. Just the press of your lips, the curve of his smile when he realizes you're smiling too, mid-kiss.

When he finally pulls back, it’s by millimetres. He stays close, forehead brushing yours, noses nearly touching.

His breath is still warm on your lips when he murmurs, “I’ve wanted to do that since you tried to flirt with me by giving me the wrong number.”

You laugh, too surprised to be embarrassed. “That wasn’t flirting! I was nervous.”

“I know, sweetheart,” he says, voice rough and smiling all at once, “I thought you were gonna melt into the floor.”

You hum, a little dazed, a little dizzy with the closeness. “Still might.”

His hand slips down to yours again, fingers lacing easily. His thumb brushes over your knuckles like he’s memorizing the shape of them. His voice drops even lower.

“Don’t,” he says. “Stay.”

And you do.

masterlist <3

[nelle-y]

I loved your recent Alhaitham fic! I was wondering if you would consider writing a pt. 2 where Alhaitham regrets how he treated you and attempts to win you back (maybe 4ggravate finds out and attempts to help Alhaitham to win you back)? I understand if not. Thank you for sharing your writing!

Thank you so much for liking my first fic! Feel free to request anything genshin-related and I’ll try my best to provide!

You kept me like a secret, but I kept you like an oath (pt. 2)

It was rare, I was there

Here’s part 1!

Synopsis: despite the neglect and everything that happened, you both still longed for each other…

Content: Alhaitham x fem!reader, wingmen!4ggravate, implied Dehyarzad, Collei, absent Cyno, Tighnari, second chances, writer!reader, angst to comfort, reader is with someone else

Warnings: slight cursing, long intro again (I can’t help it), mild spoilers for Sumeru archon quest chapter 3 act 2, Collei goes missing

Note: this part can be optional for you. If you prefer to end it at part one, then feel free to do so! But, if you’re a sucker for second chances (like me), then consider this a treat from me to you!

—

Nothing. You could hear nothing.

Not your heart pounding to the rhythm of your feet. Not the screaming in your head as you spotted familiar grey hair walking around the city. Your thoughts immediately tasted bitter—if he had the time to walk now, how come he hadn’t back then?

You surmise that you weren’t worth the step.

The weight of his absence hung over you like a storm cloud, casting a shadow over the warmth of the day. Despite your efforts to push the pain aside, it crept back, heavy and suffocating. Your mother's words echoed in your mind like a haunting refrain, a reminder that perhaps you had been foolish to invest so much in someone who couldn't reciprocate your love.

The shops were as busy and ever; merchant services, inquiries about products, scholars out in the open. You were out for groceries, almost ashamed for showing your face after the scene you caused 15 days ago. The world needed to know you were strong, though, so you put a big smile on your face and a new perfume worth Alhaitham’s salary. You even reached out to Cyno about the book you mentioned; so far, everything has been accurate, according to him.

“Y/N?” A familiar voice called to you. Turning your head in that direction, you see Dehya in the distance waving at you. Once you’ve said hello, she looked at you with a smirk on her face, “Wow, did a flower barf on you? You look radiant!”

“Radiant?” You humble yourself, “I don’t remember putting on any jewelry.”

“No, silly!” She gestured to your everything, “There’s this aura you’re emitting and it’s making you glow!” Glow? All you did these past few days was cry, eat, and write. Perhaps it was the tears that helped. They irritated your eyes so much it gave you a softer, more approachable look. “Do you think you could lend me some of that eyeshadow?”

Try crying every hour, Dehya. “Ah, I just did a favor for a friend studying cosmetology. I’m not entirely sure what products they used,” you lie. Thinking about Alhaitham will certainly eat you alive; you change the subject despite the flattery you enjoyed. “What brings you to the city?”

Enthusiasm spouts from the mercenary, “My lady Dunyarzad invited me over for the Sabzeruz Festival; and you know me, I gotta be there for my lady!”

You found it adorable—almost enviable—how they still keep in touch even after Dehya’s resignation. Call a spade a spade, that is real commitment. It makes you wonder if you’d be here, ‘radiant’ and ‘glowing,’ if you were treated that way.

“The Sabzeruz Festival? I didn’t realize it was so close. Wow, time surely flies.” Suddenly, you feel excitement rush through your veins, a new experience after days of steady tides.

“Couldn’t agree more,” said Dehya. From a distance, you both heard Dunyarzad call her name. “Ah, it looks like she needs me back there. I better go check on her. If you want, you should totally come over the bazaar once the festival is ready. Dunyarzad and I would be lucky to have you celebrate with us!” After you gave an accepting nod and farewell, Dehya ran off to the woman in purple, practically skipping on her feet.

As you watched their lively interaction, a surge of envy and longing swept through you. Their easy camaraderie and genuine happiness a stark contrast to the emptiness and loneliness gnawing at your insides. You had longed to experience that kind of connection, to be enveloped in the warmth of love and companionship once more. But deep down, you knew it was a distant dream, a fantasy you could never reclaim.

You weren’t a religious person, but out of sheer desperation, you prayed.

Lesser Lord Kusanali, please free me from this torment. Let the flowers in my garden bloom of life, let the fruits grow ripe even without much sun, let the trees reach the highest of buildings.

—

Simple greetings and little nods, Alhaitham wouldn’t have minded if those scholars were you. In fact, instead of returning those nods and hellos, he would embrace you, lift your feet off the ground and spin you around like you always wanted.

After you stormed out the tavern, Cyno went ahead and asked what happened to the both of you. For the first time, he couldn’t give a straight answer. Every excuse seemed to damage your image, and that was the last thing he wanted. Kaveh ended up taking over to save him the embarrassment.

The 15 days he burned for you were like falling into the abyss, fighting every day to the brink of death, unable to eat the sustenance that came from your warmth.

The now Scribe Alhaitham needed something to keep you off his mind. He considered attending a meeting, but none seemed to pique his interest. Every thought ended up on your doorstep, making him think of dropping by. “Kaveh,” he called the architect scribbling on his notebook, “have you seen Y/N, as of late?”

“No, she hasn’t been feeling well these past few weeks. Shouldn’t you be in a meeting?”

“Shouldn’t you be paying rent?”

Kaveh cursed at Alhaitham, “I’m trying to make the money, goddamit!”

“Maybe you would have the money if you stopped settling for your clients’ low budgets.”

“Is it hard to find me considerate?”

“I’d rather call it pathetic.”

“Go catch whatever Y/N has,” he shooed Alhaitham away, “maybe that would give you some perspective.”

The scribe stood silent for a few seconds. He knew his roommate was right, he should’ve thought about how you felt before anything. Kaveh was about to believe he had won a squabble for once, but then he suddenly revealed, “Y/N… is angry at me.”

Kaveh pshawed at him, “With the way you talked to her? No shit.” Alhaitham didn’t move an inch. “Hey, what happened there, anyway? It wasn’t like Y/N to burst out to you like that. Are you hiding something?”

With a sigh, the grey-haired man decided to reveal everything to his roommate. He listened intently, gasping and scolding him for his lack of attention towards you, adding salt to his open wounds. Upon recalling the words the scribe had said, Kaveh took a slight breath, “You fucked up.”

“I know.”

“You need to go fix this.”

“I know.”

“And you were calling me pathetic!”

“I know! I just-“ he couldn’t believe he was saying this. “I need help.”

As he was popularly known, Alhaitham wasn’t one to ask for help. Not because he had too much pride, but because he knew how to solve things like the back of his hand. He had access to numerous files from the Akasha, and he had connections to powerful people, being the scribe and all.

But this was a different situation. Every solution did not guarantee a 100% success rate, 87% at best, and that was not enough for Alhaitham. He was ready to do anything for you, to get on his knees and raise you to the highest regard, to even beg.

“I could ask Tighnari,” Kaveh began, “The Sabzeruz Festival is coming soon, maybe you could ask her out?”

Right, now that he’s perceived as a hero of his nation, he is expected to attend these festivals. He never bothered to come before, and he wouldn’t now, but he was willing to if it meant getting to see you again. “I don’t think she’ll be accepting me as her date.”

“Then we’ll talk to her.”

“Will she be willing to listen? Wait, isn’t she sick?”

Kaveh sighed, downhearted, “Right.” Then he clicked his fingers at the scribe, “I have an idea!”

—

“Collei? What are you doing here,” you said after opening your door. She drew a small grin with worried eyes, holding a box of goods for you. It’s been a while since you saw her, she grew up well, taller since your last meeting.

“Hello, miss Y/N! I heard from Master Tighnari that you weren’t feeling well,” yes, you distinctly remember lying to them (Tighnari, and Kaveh) so they wouldn’t see you as often. “So I thought I could bring you simple remedies.” The little girl observed you. “But now I think there’s no need for that,” she chuckled.

“Ah, yeah, don’t worry, it was just a small cold. Speaking of Tighnari, how come he isn’t here with you?” You ushered her in and sat her down for some tea, placing her box of medicines on the counter.

“He had some business to attend to with a merchant and allowed me to visit you. It’s been a while since you’ve travelled to Gandharva Ville, miss Y/N, do you have any plans on visiting?”

“Yes, I’m thinking of basing the rainforest as the main setting for my new book, actually.”

You both chatted about everything you could as you waited for the water to boil. Afterwards, you served a hot teapot, dwelling in mint and lotus herbs. “Ah, Collei, how long are you and Tighnari staying in the city?”

“Just for three days, though I would like to stay until after the Sabzeruz Festival,” she chuckles, holding her now warm cup in her hands.

“You could come with me if Tighnari would allow it.”

The little girl’s eyes beamed with stars, “Really? Oh, I’ve been dreaming of going to one for ages! Miss Nilou will be performing, right?” You nod to her delight, “Yes! Archons, I really hope Master would let me.”

As if he heard his name, Tighnari knocked on your door. Opening it, he looked glad seeing your healthy state. “Y/N! Good to see you’re feeling well now.” He peaked behind you to see Collei sip from her cup.

Upon recognizing her master, Collei got up and greeted him. “Hi, Master! Miss Y/N and I were just talking about the Sabzeruz Festival, and that I could come with her to see Miss Nilou perform!” Her enthusiasm was as contagious as a cold, you couldn’t help but laugh.

“As long as it wouldn’t be a hassle for Y/N, and that you would always be careful when purchasing products,” Tighnari worries like a mother. “Always look at the expiration dates, check if there are anything you’re allergic to.”

He goes on and on for about 5 minutes until you cut him off, “Alright, alright, Tighnari, it’s not like she’ll be going all alone; she has me with her!”

With this, Collei wrapped her arms around your waist, ever so thankful for your support. You thought of her as a niece, and she thought of you as an auntie, willing to give her advice on anything, trivial or not. After a few more words exchanged, and details for the festival, the pair decide to head to their cottage.

For once, you enjoyed your time and not think of Alhaitham once!

Oops.

—

It was the day of the Sabzeruz Festival; you had already picked Collei up from their cottage and are on your way to the Grand Bazaar. You could see thousands of attendees, travelling merchants, and familiar faces on the way.

As the vibrant colors and lights of the festival unfolded before you, the once a source of excitement and anticipation now loomed before you like a daunting reminder of what you had done. Despite Dehya's invitation, you couldn't shake the feeling of being an outsider, a solitary figure adrift in a sea of joyous revelry. Each smile, each laugh felt like a dagger to your already wounded heart, a painful reminder of the love you had lost and the embarrassment that now consumed you.

But this was no time for dwelling upon the memories that brought misery, remember, Collei is counting on you to give her a good time.

“Y/N, Collei!” You spot Kaveh in the distance waving and walking your way. Collei happily waved back. “I’m so glad I could run into you guys, you have no idea how terrified I am of meeting a client by accident.”

You laughed, “Do I have to accompany you, too, Kaveh?”

“Actually, I was thinking of letting you have some fun while I take care of little Collei here.” He ruffles her neatly-done hair, now messy but more natural-looking. This led Collei to bring out a small comb to fix it.

You felt irresponsible leaving Collei in someone else’s care, you’d said you would take care of her, and it felt like you would be breaking a promise if you agreed to his offer. You tuck your hair behind your ear, “I don’t know, Kaveh, something feels wrong about that, no offense. Plus, if something were to happen to Collei, we wouldn’t hear the end of it; you wouldn’t like Tighnari when he’s angry.”

“A fair point, but you’ve been locked up in your house for two weeks, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. You deserve to be out there, butterfly, spread the wings you grew from being in that cocoon!”

That somehow felt too specific. Does he know something? Collei starts to agree, despite seeming so excited to go with you. “Even you, Collei?” You sigh, “Fine, but if something happens, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

You weren’t expecting to have so much fun here. The lights, the music, even the people were a blast! At first you were anxious for Collei, checking in from time to time, then as you continued to do so, your vists would be more spaced apart. You drank some punch with Dehya and Dunyarzad, who seemed to be doing really well for themselves, then you danced with the crowd in the name of Lesser Lord Kusanali.

After all of that, it was time for one last dance before Nilou’s grand performance. The band began to play a soft, romantic folk song. “Alright, Sumeru City,” called the lead singer, their voice sonorous with seduction, “before we settle down for the reknowned Nilou, let’s have a little treat for all the couples out there. So, grab your partner and dance along.”

Just as you were at the height of excitement, everything seemed to come crashing down again. You stood on the sidelines, feeling lost and out of place. Dehya and Dunyarzad swayed together, hand in hand. A lot of other couples came together and danced. The passion embedded in the song they sang only made you feel more alone, the walls of the Grand Bazaar growing taller and taller as you gazed upon them in longing.

You felt a hand on your shoulder, a man you don’t remember meeting. “Excuse me, miss, could I trouble you with a dance?” He looked about your age, a nice smile and an energetic demeanor. You were cautious of his intentions, though. It’s possible to have fun while maintaining a distance, right?

You accepted his invitation, all of the sudden you felt a sick knot in your stomach, like you were cheating on Alhaitham. But you weren’t together anymore, why would you stop yourself from meeting new people?

The man said his name was Hafan, a mercenary from the Corps of Thirty. He offered to buy you a drink once the dance was over, and again, you gladly accepted while the sweat in your palms said otherwise. You talked with every step you took, getting to know each other and telling stories. He made you laugh—a lot—and you impressed him with your witty comebacks. Perhaps this was the Dendro Archon’s response to your prayer? A hand to guide you through the maze, and to help you believe in love again?

But just amidst the merry atmosphere of the festival, a lingering anxiousness settled within your stomach.

Then, you saw him.

Alhaitham stood in the corner of the room, the desperate merchants and harmonizing of the band seemed to die down as time stood still. The vibrant colors faded into shades of grey as your heart clenched with a mixture of dread and longing.

It was as if a gate had opened within you, unleashing a torrent of emotions you had struggled to contain. Guilt gnawed at your conscience, regret tore your chest open, and love gave your heart to him.

As Hafan twirled you gracefully across the makeshift floor, you held your gaze with Alhaitham, your heart torn between the past and the present, between what was and what could’ve been.

Maybe you had been thinking too rashly, maybe he had changed over the course of your absence. The way he looked at you with such burning could not make you think otherwise.

In that moment, with all the crowds in the festival and the ache of your fractured heart, you knew for certain—no matter how hard you deny it, no matter how fast you tried to run, you could never escape the grasp he had on your soul.

The dance had ended, though it felt like it just started. Before Hafan could get that drink he promised, you said, “I’m sorry, Hafan.” He looked at you in confusion. “You must be looking for someone to—I don’t know—spend the rest of the festival with, and I don’t think I can fulfill that position. You’re a sweet guy, truly, I’m just not in a good place for anything right now.” Archons, you sounded ridiculous. But to your suprise, the man hardly took it personally.

“It’s okay, I get it. I had fun with you tonight, Y/N. You’re a great person to be around.” You almost regret having to end your time with him. “I’ll see you around, yeah?” He gave you a nod of farewell and left your side.

You looked in the direction of Alhaitham, again, hoping to catch that feeling of familiarity, but you had found he was no longer there. Perhaps it was your imagination.

You then searched for Collei and Kaveh, but they were nowhere to be found. They weren’t near the stalls, or in front of the stage.

They were nowhere in the bazaar.

The panic you felt shook your entire foundation, the pillars that kept you from going back home, back to the pain.

What if they had been kidnapped? You trusted Kaveh’s words, that he would take care of her, but for all you know they could be in the middle of the desert right now! What if Kaveh had run into a client and got distracted? What if Collei got injured or hospitalized?

Your heart began beating in your ears, your breath hastened with every thump. The air seemed so thin in the enclosed space, you needed to go outside. Yes, perhaps you could have a better chance at finding them out there, too.

As you walked out the doors of the Grand Bazaar, Collei’s name immediately echoed through the night. “Collei!” After numerous calls left with no answers, lumps of tears began crawling down your cheeks. “Oh my archon,” you sobbed. You could imagine the look on Tighnari’s face, the worry, the anger, the disappointment.

The feeling of losing them was clawing to your soul, like a mother bird losing her chick after their first flight. If they go missing, it was your fault. That fact will forever stain your soul, haunting your remaining days until the sweet release of death.

You sat on a curb, just near the entrance of the bazaar in hopes that the little girl and the architect would return unharmed. More tears had revealed themselves as your thoughts grew more and more intense, terrorizing, even.

The streets were so quiet, only the music from the festival and the first chirps of the crickets seemed to fill your ears, your sobs excluded. No guards or matras were present with you. Who the hell was in charge of security here!? The starry sky brought a comfortable cold instead of blazing heat.

You then heard footsteps from the bazaar and a person sitting beside you. “I walked them home,” a gruff voice sounded, “Collei was getting tired.”

Just your luck, the man who sat with you was no other than Alhaitham. Despite the conflicting emotions that came to you in a flash, you were relieved that Collei was safe. You let out a heavy breath. “Thank you,” you sniff, brushing away the tears that stained your face.

It was quiet again, for a while. You could hear Nilou’s music from outside; “Collei would’ve loved seeing Nilou dance,” you thought aloud. “I remember her basking about it when she had just became Tighnari’s pupil.” Suddenly, you felt calmer, safer now that the eerie silence accompanied you with the presence of the man you knew as well as breathing.

—

Alhaitham couldn’t say anything, busying himself gazing upon your eyes and your weakly pulled smile. There was still sadness lingering within them, covered by a coating of relief. He felt remorse for taking Collei away from you, for making you worry like this, for leaving you in the dark for a long, long time. Nonetheless, he was happy it led to you talking to him again. He was almost certain this day would never come.

Then he is reminded of you dancing with another man. His heart pounded erratically against his chest, each beat echoing the tumultuous storm of emotions raging within him. He had come to the festival in search of hope and redemption, a fleeting reprieve from the pain that chewed up his soul. But instead, he had found more heartache, contrary to the plan.

As he watched you twirl and sway with the man’s hand in yours, he felt as though the world tilted off its axis, leaving him teetering on the precipice of anguish. How could you be dancing so freely with another when every fiber of his being yearned to hold you so close, to feel the warmth you gave him once more?

His hands clenched into fists against his knees, his jaw tightened with unexpressed emotion. He remembered how badly he wanted to look away, but the flow of your hair and how gracefully you moved wouldn’t let him, it was as if you had casted a spell upon him, forever tormenting him to stay on the sidelines, to repress the overwhelming desire to be the one twirling you around and making you smile.

A surge of conflicting emotions washed over him—a searing pang of jealousy intertwined with a profound sense of regret and longing. Then just when he was ready to cross the bridge that separated you, he felt a small tug on his darkened cape. “Mr. Scribe Alhaitham,” Collei said meekly, sheepishly rubbing her eyes, “Did the plan work?”

He remembers Kaveh’s words, so filled with determination, She’ll do anything for Collei, so if she asks to go to the festival, Y/N will for sure accompany her! Once the slow dance starts, that’s when you’ll swoop in and declare your love.

And if it doesn’t work?, the scribe raised his eyebrows.

It will! I’ll make sure no one gets near her.

Boy, did that plan go to shit.

He gave the little girl a soft smile despite the mind-numbing pain in his chest. He knelt down to her level, “Isn’t Kaveh supposed to be with you?”

“Someone was talking to him just a while ago. It seemed pretty heated, so I slipped away when I got the chance,” she yawned.

“Of course,” Alhaitham muttered. Must be a client of his. “You look tired, Collei.”

“I think I’m ready to go home now, Mr. Alhaitham.” The drowsiness in her eyes could barely hold her awake. It was getting late, she must not be used to staying up at times like these.

Alhaitham looked back at you, wondering if you were still keeping your eyes on him. To no avail, it was like you had vanished like a ghost with the beautiful, painful sight he had witnessed along with you. A heavy feeling lingered in his chest, leaving him to wonder if you would lock your gaze with him again. Then he left, accompanying Collei back to her and Tighnari’s cottage.

On his way back to the bazaar for reasons unknown, he found you weeping in your hands, curled up like a shriveled bug beaten down, calling out Collei’s name. After he assured you of the little girl’s safety, you began talking about your experiences with her. Ever so glad, he listened to your voice, melodious and soothing like a lullaby to put him to sleep. The euphoria he experienced was one like no other, it was the first time he felt at peace for eons against the stars and the cool breeze. Then, he wondered, were you feeling the same?

“They found a new Grand Sage,” he announced.

“Is that why you have the time now?” Your words stung his morality, picking on the weak scabs of his mistakes.

He took a moment to respond. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I never meant for any of this to happen.”

Unable to meet his gaze, you managed a casual tone, “I know, Alhaitham.” His name sounded like a song whenever it came from your lips. “Besides, it’s not your fault.” Your voice was then hoarse of emotion, fingers picking at the dirt beneath you. “I shouldn’t have let myself to get lost in my own thoughts.”

“But I should’ve been there for you,” Alhaitham insisted. “I should not have made you feel like you were alone.”

“But it happened anyway.”

For a moment, silence enveloped the space between you, only broken by the distant sounds of the festival. Then, slowly, you turned to meet his gaze, in a light that had no remorse, for the first time since you told him to leave.

“I don’t know if I can forgive you,” you admitted, your voice trembling with uncertainty. “But I do know I’m willing to try.”

With this, Alhaitham took you in a warm embrace, letting out a shaky breath as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. He then held you by the shoulders, teary as you released him from this torture. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make things right again.”

As you looked into his eyes, you found the sincerity in his voice, determination reflecting upon his irises. Despite everything that had happened, you couldn’t deny the hope that ignited in your stomach. Maybe, just maybe, there was still a chance to find your way back together.

You held his hands first, then traced your way to his cheeks, warm with anticipation. Then you pulled him into a kiss that was long overdue, Alhaitham almost tumbling from the force you had exerted.

As your lips meet, there is a softness, a tenderness in the way they press together, as if each touch carries the weight of a thousand whispered promises. Time seems to stand still as you both lose yourselves in the sensation, senses heightened by the intoxicating blend of warmth and desire. It's a symphony of sensations—a gentle caress, a fleeting brush of lips, a silent exchange of emotions that speaks volumes without a single word. And in that fleeting moment, you find solace, connection, and a sense of belonging in each other's embrace.

Slow as the breeze blew your hair, everything froze and only he brought the fire to relieve you of your vains. Alhaitham’s lips were soft and cold, clearly waiting for this day to come. When he leaned back for air, foreheads connected together, you breathed, “I love you.”

As you heard the crowd’s applause from a distance, as if cheering for your reconciling, he replied, “I love you more,” before pulling you in for another well-deserved kiss.

—the end.—

[baronessvonglitter]

My favorite things I've read this month! Please be mindful of the tags before you read 💚 Show the authors some love by reblogging and commenting 🌟I love all of you and your creativity so much!!

dividers by @enchanthings-a 👑

Frankie Morales

Bon Appetit by @everybodylovedcontractors ~ Francisco "Catfish" "Frankie" Morales and F!reader

Heaven Can Wait by @theewokingdead ~ Francisco “Catfish” Morales x f!Reader

Neighborhood Watch by @joelalorian ~ neighbor!frankie x f!reader

Sizzlin' by @sunshinehaze1 ~ Frankie x f!reader

Strawberry Shortcake by @604to647 ~ Frankie Morales x fem!reader

Max Phillips

The Prettiest by @almostfoxglove ~ Max P x f!Reader (further chapters found on AO3)

Tim Rockford

confessions by @wildemaven ~ tim x f!reader

The Rockford Portfolio by @604to647 ~ Detective Tim Rockford x fem!reader

Pero Tovar

Ambrosia by @sawymredfox ~ Pero x fem! able-bodied reader

Memories made, memories lost by @avastrasposts ~ Mercenary!Pero x female reader

Dave York

Affliction by @lavenderursa ~ Dave York x DIA Op!Reader

Hotel Ties by @honestly-shite ~ Dave x f!reader

Keystrokes by @mothandpidgeon ~ dave york x hacker!f!reader

Sedated by @luxurychristmaspudding ~ dave x f!contract killer!reader

Still by @sizzlingcloudmentality ~ Dave x f!reader

Under False Pretenses - Ch. 11 Ch. 12 Ch. 13 ~ Stepdad!Dave x f!reader

Joel Miller

game changer by @kedsandtubesocks ~ MLB pitcher!Joel Miller x F!Reader

game changer - timeout by @kedsandtubesocks ~ MLB pitcher!Joel Miller x F!Reader

Hungry-Man Ch. 1 by @slimybeth69

I want to smell like you by @itwasntimethatdidit40 ~ Father in law!Joel x f!reader

Like a Boy Does by @magpiepills ~ Tess Servopoulos x f! Reader x Joel Miller

Like a Stuffed Whore by @pedge-page ~ Joel Miller x StuffedAnimal!Reader x unnamed stepdaughter

Mine by @secretelephanttattoo ~ Joel Miller x Tess Servopoulos

The one that got away by @stylesispunk ~ outbreak!joel x f!reader

The Other Woman by @evolnoomym ~ Joel Miller x F!OC Moon

The Prophecy by @schnarfer ~ Knights & Kings AU Joel Miller x f!reader

this is me trying by @majestyeverlasting ~ joel miller x female reader

Wherever You Go by @myownwholewildworld ~ outbreak!joel x f!reader

Javier Peña

Booty Call by @cxrsed-angel ~ Javier x Fem! Reader

The Condom by @toxicanonymity ~ Javi P x f!reader x Steve Murphy

Forehead Kiss by @greenwitchfromthewoods

Javi's Playground by @mermaidgirl30 ~ Javier Peña x fem! reader

Jealousy, Jealousy by @javierpena-inatacvest Javier x f!reader

Love me like a loaded gun by @joelmillerisapunk ~ fuckbuddy!Javier x f!reader

Marrying Javi by @milla-frenchy

Playgirl by @milla-frenchy ~ Javier x fem reader

Rotten luck by @milla-frenchy ~ Javier Peña x fem reader

Marcus Acacius

first fruit since winter by @cuppajoel ~ modern!acacius x reader

run by @almostempty ~ marcus acacius x f!reader

When in Ancient Rome by @cuppajoel ~ modern-day! Marcus Acacius x fem!reader

Clint

Hold My Hand by @aurorawritestoescape ~ Clint x f!reader

sweet surrender by @joelmillerisapunk ~ Clint x f!reader

Din Djarin

Healing Pains by @liltangerineart ~ din djarin x bounty hunter!femreader

The Only Time We Have by @nerdieforpedro ~ Din Djarin x Poe Dameron

Marcus Moreno

A Hero's Blessing by @joelalorian ~ marcus moreno x f!reader

Nobody's Gonna Know by @604to647 ~ Marcus Moreno x gn!reader

Multi

To Catch a Thief by @coulsons-fullmetal-cellist ~ Featuring one Detective Tim Rockford and a certain thief

Self Recs

the best part of waking up... ~ any Pedro character x f!reader

Keep On Loving You ~ Frankie Morales x f!reader

Strawberry Swirl ~ Joel Miller x fem!reader

Just a Ride ~ dbf!Dave York x f!Reader

[ariadnes-elixirs]

thinking about a yandere forgotten god...

(male yandere x gn mercenary reader)

part 1 / part 2

tw: manipulative behavior, reader was lost at sea before the story began, reader also has self-worth issues

you felt soft, cool hands shaking you awake. your head felt like it was full of cotton, but you could faintly hear a masculine voice excitedly speaking, "good morning! sorry to wake you up, but i can't have you dying on your first day here!"

as you feel yourself waking up, you try to rack your brain to figure out how you got in this situation. you slowly become aware of the sand beneath your body and the feeling of waves ebbing and flowing near your legs. are you... on a beach?

you struggle to open your eyes, but you can feel those same hands prop you up into a sitting position. you feel a cool hand against your forehead, and you lean into the hand before you can stop yourself.

you hear the voice again, "you poor thing! you're burning up!" the voice sounded concerned, but through your muffled hearing you could also make out concealed... excitement?

you feel one arm move to support your back and another underneath your knees. you begin trying to open your eyes again, and as you do you can feel yourself being lifted off of the sandy beach. the voice pipes up again, "let me bring you inside! it's been so long since someone has washed up on my island!"

as you finally muster up the strength to open your eyes, you see the source of the voice you've been hearing and the person carrying you. he's a taller man with a dark, tanned complexion. he has long hair, with some strands styled into braids and gold adornments scattered throughout. one notable feature that stood out to you was golden, almost inhuman looking eyes.

a sudden wave of fatigue overwhelms you, as you feel the desire to sleep grow. you try to force yourself to stay awake, but you can only delay the inevitable for so long as your exhaustion catches up to you.

the person carrying you is still muttering, whether he's talking to you or himself is unclear, but it slowly fades out as you lose consciousness.

~

you wake up to a faint floral scent and the feeling of a soft, plush bed. you feel the silken sheets beneath you, nicer and cleaner than anything you've slept in within the past several years, possibly even your whole life. your head is resting on a downy, fluffy pillow, almost moulding to the shape of your head as you lay there.

during your years as a traveler and mercenary, you have become accustomed to the rough and scratchy sheets, rock-hard pillows, and damp musty rooms in whatever inn you could scrounge up enough coins to stay in.

you vaguely remember taking a job as a guard on a merchant's ship, but struggle to remember how you ended up in a bed that was definitely too nice to be something you belong in.

as your sleepy mind is processing as much as it can in your tired state, you hear footsteps approaching.

you start moving your arms and legs to sit up in the bed as you hear the voice from before. "oh! you're awake! i made some food for you, i'll be right back!!" followed by the sound hurried footsteps leaving whatever room you're in.

as you finally sit up and open your eyes, you start to take in the room you've found yourself in. it almost looks like... a cave? the walls are rocky and uneven, but still covered in ivy and lush vegetation. there are pieces of furniture you would expect to see in a normal bedroom, but there are also flowerpots all over the room, each filled with plants and flowers you've never seen before. you also notice a couple... bird nests? just... where are you?

you didn't even know who brought you here or how you ended up here. something about this situation felt off to you, and you start to process that this is somewhere you should not be and definitely don't belong.

suddenly you hear the sound of footsteps rushing back towards you and as he enters the room you can finally get a good look at the person who brought you away from the shore.

you vaguely remember seeing his dark skin and hair with gold pieces in it before, but you didn't remember much else. you immediately notice his clean, white clothes. which is typically impossible to attain and then maintain by people who have to dirty their hands for a living. a piece of fabric is draped over his shoulder, but most of his chest appears to be exposed. in addition to his hair adornments, his ears, arms, and neck are all covered in gold accessories. you also didn't notice just how long his hair was, reaching down to the middle of his back. you can tell that it is very well maintained and taken care of.

he walks over to you, carrying a tray of food. he smiles at you before stating "i found you washed up on shore, but i couldn't let you just lay there. you appeared ill when i found you, so you should definitely eat something healthy and rest as much as possible while you recover."

he places the tray of food on your lap as you process his words, "...thank you," you reply, "but... why would you help me?"

"well... it's not every day someone washes up on the my island's shores!" he giggles.

you think momentarily before replying, "so... how often does this happen?"

the question appears to catch him off guard, and his smile falters for a second as he looks away. "well... uh... this is... it's probably been... a couple hundred years, actually."

you process his response and start to pay closer attention to the feeling of unease thats been steadily growing within you as you interacted with the stranger.

if he was telling the truth, that would make him some kind of immortal being. a nymph? a god?

you were just some mercenary looking to make a living, and you certainly weren't strong enough to take on any kind of immortal. you feel more uncertainty creep in, there's no way he would actually care about some mercenary... he's... this has to be a trap, right?

he seems to notice your unease and anxiety regarding your current situation. he sighs gently and looks at the floor, "look, i know this must be scary for you. first being lost at sea and then washing up on some strange island. but... i really do want to help you," he smiles, "please, just let me take care of you, at least until you recover."

you still feel unsure, but what could you do? he has already helped you, he brought you into his... house... and let you sleep in his clean bed. which is... more than some mercenary deserves already...

you slowly shift your gaze down to the food on the tray he set on your lap. soup, bread, and some chicken. you pick up the spoon sitting next to the soup, submerge it in the soup, and sluggishly bring it to your lips.

it's... the best soup you've ever tasted.

he smiles at you as you eat and suddenly you remember you never asked for his name. "so uh, who exactly are... you?" you ask.

he giggles, "no one you would know, but i suppose humans do love their little names for things. now that i'm not alone anymore, maybe having a name would be a nice change of pace."

his word choice suggests the length of your stay will likely be... longer than you would have anticipated. but it's too late, he's definitely not going to let you go. he finally has someone to talk to, spend time with, embrace, love. why would he let this opportunity pass him by?

"you can call me cal, dear~" he chuckles to himself before continuing, "now eat up before your meal gets cold~"

a/n: yeah so he is definitely inspired by calypso from the odyssey eoriskwksla. i thought it would be a neat concept, especially if the person on the island did not have a significant other. he genuinely just wants to be around another person after being cursed and then forgotten after hundreds of years. he is super soft and sweet towards you though. however in classic yandere fashion, he also intends to make sure you never leave :)

[rex101111]

Things that happen within the first few hours of AC6:

1. You get shot with a huge-ass laser mid-atmosphere entry. You barely survive this, landing several miles away from your intended landing zone.  Welcome to Rubicon 3.

2. You have a mech built with bargain bin parts, barely held together with hope and spite. It has a energy sword though, so that’s nice.

3. Not even two seconds after your, very rough, landing, you get a call from your “Handler”. He is ostensibly in charge of your well-being. This begins and ends with him sending you off on missions he’s fairly certain you’ll survive and charges you for the damage you get to your mech, the bullets you use, and he’s also cut out a piece of your brain to put in augmentations that will make you a slightly better mech pilot. In the top Most Horrible People On This Planet contest, he wouldn’t make it to the top 10.

4. You make your way through a derelict hunk of junk that’s threatening to collapse on top of you. Not even two minutes into this journey, you’re getting shot at with missiles. 

5. You finally reach your intended destination, a burning husk of a city filled with scavengers and low lives who will shoot you on sight. You are here to grave rob.

6. The reason you are grave robbing is connected to the fact you got shot in orbit, you are here illegally, and you need to find a license from any fresh corpse so you can steal the identity on it and be able to do mercenary work.

7. You go through four corpses before you find one with a license that can pass muster.

8. Mid corpse robbing a gunship sent by The Space Police spots you and you have to shot it down so it can’t kill you or, even worse, stop you from stealing the identity you just found. 

9. As soon as you get registered in the Mercenary Rolodex, which takes less then a second of an A.I taking a look and saying “alright checks out”, you have two missions. One of them has you killing a bunch of resistance fighters from the planet’s native population on behalf of a weapons company that really wants to do business here. 10. The next mission has you going to a base owned by that very same company and blowing up everything you can find there. This does not anger that company one bit, if anything it just convinces them you are a very thorough worker. 11. Very shortly after that, you are tasked with destroying a prototype mech by another company before it can get into mass production. That mech is being piloted by what can only be described as an Anime Protag who is in the worst possible franchise for his type of character. You can murder him in less then two minutes if you know what you’re doing. You can hear him desperately fight for his life the entire time. 12. After that, before you even get to clean the blood and oil and broken dreams off your robot, you get a call from a merc group leader saying that he’s seen you murder that guy real good, a guy who was auditioning to join his group, and likes the cut of your jib. He gives you the callsign he was gonna give Anime Protag before you blew him the fuck up. He laughs and tells you to be careful since it’s an unlucky number. This is the least morally repugnant thing you’ll do all game.   

13. A while after that, you go into a power plant and destroy the generator, it promptly blasts you in the face with the red radioactive Super Fuel that toasted this planet a few years back.

14. You survive, somehow, and you get a disembodied voice of some girl in your ear. You tell your handler about this and he just shrugs it off with “oh yeah that’s probably a symptom of the lobotomy, don’t worry about it”. The voice is probably the most moral person on this fire blasted hell scape of a planet.

[feralrabidcrow]

SIMS 4 TF2 BASE - V4

Sims 4 gallery ID - feralrabidcrow

Part 1 - 1/2/3

Hey, remember when I made that TF2 base and posted it and said I was happy with it?

I LIED! SO I MADE IT AGAIN! FORGET ABOUT THE OLD ONE BECAUSE IT SUCKED AND THIS ONE IS WAY BETTER!!

(On a side note, I was digging through old Discord messages and found screenshots of versions 1 and 2 of this base, which objectively suck to a near comedic degree. So if anyone wants me to share those too, I can!)

The exterior hasn't changed too much from the last version. The main differences are more detail and actual landscaping around it. And the shipping containers on the roof.

As stated in the previous iteration, this is my reference for writing fanfiction so I can better envision the setting in my head. But anyone else is free to use it for either artistic reference or writing reference!

This is a home base for the mercenaries to live in when they're not deployed at a battlefield such as 2fort or Badwater. Those battlefields have their own temporary bases, which are much smaller and a lot less comfortable.

Some areas of interest on the outside - Engie has a campfire set up for when the guys wanna have a beer and chat around the fire after a hard day of work. And Sniper seems to have set up camp in one of the sniper towers, for whatever reason.

FLOOR PLAN

Miss Pauling's office is this sad looking little grey building here.

She doesn't stay here all the time, but some days she has to work extreme overtime, so it's handy to have her own place on the base where she can sleep and freshen up.

Base Version 3 taught me that Tumblr posts have a limit on the amount of images you can attach, so I'm going to end Part 1 here and get working on Part 2!

1/2/3

[erideights]

Little pieces here and there (1)

Pairing: Buggy x Fem!Reader (One Piece Live Action)

Chapters: two, three, four, five

Word Count: 2,6K (i was inspired by god itself)

Warnings: none, lot of context (i promise the next chapter will have way less filling), light flirting

A/N: I HAVE ALREADY THOUGHT ABOUT AT LEAST 5 CHAPTERS MORE, I HOPE SOMEONE LIKES THIS FIRST ONE BECAUSE I'M ON MY KNEES FOR THIS DAMN CLOWN. Let me know if you wanna be tagged in other parts! (Side note: i'm spanish, so if there's some mistakes, i'm trully sorry, i don't have beta readers).

It's not enough to suddenly find herself locked in a box with 3 idiots she met a matter of hours ago, no; To make it worse, as it could not be otherwise, it turns out that she is in a bloody circus, ''kidnapped'' by a band of pirates that she recognizes as soon as she sees the red and white tent over their heads, the distressed faces of the poor people that make up the audience, and the costumes of the band around them.

She sighs, and wonders what the hell she's doing there despite knowing perfectly well what kind of decisions have led her to that damned place. Wanna know what happened? Let's recap, shall we?

(Y/N) (S/N). That name doesn't sound familiar, right? Very few know it but the reputation that accompanies the person who responds to it is very famous throughout the 4 seas. She is not a bounty hunter, nor a marine, neither a pirate or a pirate hunter, like the green-haired hottie with whom she finds herself in such trouble, or a thief, like the ginger who she bet, will escape running without looking back at the slightest opportunity she finds.

No, she's a mercenary. She doesn't work solely for money, otherwise she would go against the most bloodthirsty and ruthless of each sea, and that doesn'tt interest her, because she would put herself on the radar of both the pirates and the marines.

No, she is contacted through different channels, none of them direct, and if the job interests her, amuses her, or even piques her curiosity, she accept it. She goes after all kinds of people, whether they are pirates or marines, gangsters at the top of the terror scale or criminals who, like her, tried to keep a low profile.

However, and as we were saying, despite trying to remain anonymous, she is good at her job, a born strategist with an incredible facility to adapt and blend in with her surroundings to sneak into the most remote places, so her existence inevitably began to be noticed along the seas, rumors about this young mercenary with an angelic face, who only responded to her own morals and of whom few escaped to tell the tale.

And this is how she met that group of weirdos who found each others through the power of the plot's convenience; her last assignment was to steal the map from the Grand Line. There are not many, these kept safe and protected in large fortresses throughout the globe, and among all those that she could have tried to steal, she made the horrible decision of going for the one that was closest to her, encountering those three idiots in the crossfire of the disaster that unfolded in Shells Town.

How did she end up giving up the assignment and at that precise moment there, with them?  Simple: Luffy piqued her curiosity. And there are few things stronger than (Y/N)'s curiosity.

"Hey, I know you. I saw your wanted poster in Shells Town, you're the clown guy. Umm, uh… Binky, right?" Luffy exclaimed, as confident of himself as usual.

Buggy, she mentally corrected, arms crossed over her chest, rolling her eyes at the same time the clown corrected loudly and dramatically listed his many nicknames. Which she was sure, only he called himself.

''Wow, you have a lot of names. I bet everyone in the East Blue knows who you are.” The audience gasp. There's confusion in the boy's face, and an almost psychopatic tic in the clown's one. ''What did you just say?'' Buggy asks lowly. ''Just that everyone knows who you are.'' Luffy repeats.

''Nose!? Are you making fun of my nose!?’’

Then came the slap, like the one someone usually gives when a friend is trying to steal their food or touch something they definitely shouldn't. Buggy is killing the straw hat boy with his eyes but the gesture is so… innocent.  She expected threats with knives, to be honest.

And because of the unexpected, she almost let a laugh escape in the form of a cough but she controlled herself fast enough to not grab unnecessary attention to her.

''What's real is...'' Buggy resumes the conversation, getting some distance with Luffy to walk around the rest too.  ’’I’ve been scheming for months to steal that map from old Axe-Hand moron…’’ (Y/N) sees how he approaches her, but she didn't expect him to close the distance between each other so much, his nose almost touching her own, sharp blue eyes fixed on her from a slightly lower perspective. The truth is... that she also doesn't know how to tell if that nose is real or not, but now she really wants to touch it to find out. Dear God, what a realistic texture. It’s incredible.

Pressing her lips together in a contained expression as she shakes her head, she raises an eyebrow, letting him know that the joke wasn't as funny as he hoped, and he clucks, accepting defeat in such good humor that no one would say, that is a kidnapping and someone would end up dead by the end of the day.

She heard of him. His reward was not one of the highest but neither one of those that go unnoticed in the East Blue. He was also an eccentric, of course people talked about the blue-haired, red-nosed clown who terrified his victims in a macabre way. Those who survived ended up traumatized.

He is, or at least looks, younger than she imagined, and he fit right in with the urban legends of evil clowns kidnapping children and then dismembering them. She wonders, silently, thoughtful eyes scanning his face and body language from a distance, if this is some softie on the inside with high aspirations in life who was unfortunate enough to bump into someone who traumatized him and hence all this show and facade of the cruel and heartless clown -to protect himself as the good cliché he seems- or if, on the contrary, he is, simply and plainly, a yandere who craves attention no matter how he has to obtain it.

If she remembers correctly, there was also a rumor that he ate a devil fruit. Just like Luffy, which it doesn't take long for the clown to discover after Zoro tries to save the situation by showing off his reputation -obviously it doesn't work- and Nami does exactly what (Y/N) predicted. Not her fault, either, she doesn't owe any of them anything at all.

''Okay. Here ends the theatrics.’’ The lights go out and it’s then that everyone can small the disaster in the air. A chill runs down the back of (Y/N), who tends to infiltrate without being seen and avoids, whenever possible, a direct encounter; hand-to-hand combat is not exactly his specialty. And given the circumstances is impossible for her to know if the daggers she usually hides in the side of his combat boots -for emergencies like this one- are still there. ''I know one of you has my map, and I'm gonna get it back. What was it you said, Rubber Boy? That it was in a safe place?”

How long were they unconscious before? Enough to hijack the ship, get to land, and move 4 dead weight bodies to that circus, locking them in a box. By that point she would bet some member of the gang would have thoroughly searched the ship, and them too. Disgusting.

Buggy takes a last, attentive look at both Zoro and Nami, ruling out that one of the two has the map because when the girl tried to flee, Luffy was not shocked thinking that perhaps she would steal it from him. Which leaves the two of them, Luffy and her, alone with him.

''So, please'' the clown gestures to his subordinates with his head. ''make these two guests uncomfortable in the green room. I’m gonna have a chat with my stretchy new pal and…’’ His eyes jump to her, tilting his head to the side with genuine curiosity. ''this beauty that was incapable of taking her eyes off me.''

Fuck. Was it that obvious?

''Doll, you are the only one who hasn't opened your mouth yet and I don't think it's because you’re a shy little flower.'' He begins, circling around her like an animal hunting its prey, analyzing it, hoping to see a chink of weakness to attack. ''Are you bored?'' He asks almost in a whisper near her ear. ''Is that it? Are you so, so bored that you don't think it's worth enough interacting with the rest of us?'' Breaking away from her when he realizes she doesn't falter, he smiles a huge, threatening smile, looking her up and down in such a way that it almost makes her feel dirty. "Or maybe you're the one who has my map, and you're quiet to try not to attract /my/ attention."

She? The map? Wearing such tight pants and top? Yeah, maybe up her ass, but she's not the one who is going to tell him otherwise because if he, or one of his subordinates, comes to search her, she could take advantage of the opportunity to steal some sort of weapon from them.

In particular from Buggy; (Y/N) saw the knives he keeps in his coat and… she wouldn't mind taking a closer look at that interesting nose.

"Busted." She finally admits with a lopsided smile, raising both eyebrows when she sees the surprise on the clown's face. He didn't expect such a cocky response, did he? "I'm not the type of person who likes to attract attention, the spotlight is for others who are more... flashy." She pronounces it honeyedly, repeating the same nickname he used before, pointing at him with a gesture of her chin. "However, I'm not going to tell you where the map is. If you want to find it, come and search for it yourself."

Shrugging her shoulders, she stretches out both arms in a gesture that invites him to come closer. Bold, he thinks, more than pleased with this unexpected turn of events, taking some steps in her direction. She adds once more: "although I would be surprised if you hadn't already done it during the time we have been unconscious"

"Me?" He points at himself, stopping right in front of her. "Take advantage of a defenseless young lady?" He almost sounded offended if it wasn't for the shit eating grin and the eager way he was scanning her body now. "What kind of degenerate do you take me for?"

She scoffs, and Buggy, unsure, seems to consider -for some long seconds- whether or not to do the job himself, (Y/N) being too calm for how helpless she seems. But surely, he knows, she doesn't have any weapons on her; his subordinates were in charge, as she said, of searching all of them as soon as they were brought to the circus.

In the end he gives up, because he would be damned if he dared to refuse to thoroughly touch this mysterious woman who may, just may, have his map hidden somewhere. He strongly doubts it, tho.

Soon enough, he moves again, standing then behind her, and without asking permission, he doesn’t need it either, his hands start roaming her shoulders and sides slowly, making sure to feel anything weird between her clothes and the skin underneath. Like the fucking map, folded until it is nothing more than a small piece of paper easy to hide. 

Because that is the whole point of that scene, right?

"Go on, be my guest." she says sarcastically, trying to stay calm and breathe slowly, because (Y/N) likes to pretend to be made of stone, but not /that much/. The pressure of those gloves against her already tight clothes and the hungry way she knows those -green? blue? difficult to say with those circus lights- eyes are watching her every move make her heart beat a bit faster in something she’d call /the average amount of nervousness when a known, wanted pirate search for something we wants while threatening to kill you if he doesn’t find it/.

Buggy, on the other hand, is so engrossed in his task that his usual cocky smile has disappeared a few seconds ago; he is waiting to feel a change in the girl's body language to be able to guess if she has it or if, on the contrary, this search will be saved in his memory as no more than a small pleasurable pause after all the stress that the goddamn map is putting him through. Because he can't deny it, she's actually a beauty, and in other circumstances he wouldn't mind getting to know her in a funnier way. At all.

Inhaling deeply, wetting his red lips with his tongue, he lets the air out slowly, tilting his head to the side to see her better. He should hurry up and stop making that scene as intimate as it's becoming, audience and all, but he's a thorough man. Or that’s the excuse -explanation- he will give to whoever dares to ask.

"Where the hell did you hide my map?" He asks melodiously as he finishes searching her torso, his right hand starting to go a little lower, getting dangerously close to her hipbone when (Y/N)'s right hand flies up and catches his wrist between her fingers, stopping him dead in his tracks. She couldn't help it, she acted on autopilot, she is not ready to be the main character of a porn movie with audience included letting him roaming all around as he pleases. "Not between my legs, so keep lowering your hands and I'll cut them off." she threatens, turning her face to look at him standing behind her.

Right back, as if those words were magical or something, the huge, shit eating smile of his returns to the lips of the unstable clown, and without letting go, he makes her spin, facing her with both hands on her waist, strongly keeping her in place, sharp eyes fixed on her, and without realizing it, she stops breathing for a second. "You promise?" He whispers, pleads almost, in an amused, delighted tone of voice after such a threat. She was way interesting than he expected, not as shy or scared as an unarmed girl like her should be. He likes that. A lot.

However, he has -sadly- things to do and he did in fact, already lost time with her. His eyes betraying him the moment they land on the girl's lips, Buggy winks at her with a cocky expression and pulls away suddenly, raising both arms "Another disappointment, how many more can our audience endure? You’re the only one left, Rubber Boy, don't let me down." He points him, moving closer, while (Y/N) just stays there where he left her, wondering what the fuck just happened and why does her heart run so fast now.

Adrenaline, probably.

"Take her with the others" he ends up saying to a couple of members of his gang, to which she responds by moving on her own in the direction of where they have taken Zoro and Nami before, preventing them from guiding her by force and discovering the knife she stole from Buggy when he got so damn close to her, and which she secretly hid between the waistband of her pants and her shirt.

Risky, she could cut herself with the smallest movement at the least expected moment, but it was way worse to see herself unarmed.

Buggy, infatuated, takes one last look at her and, raising one hand, waves his fingers in the air with a huge smile on his face as he says goodbye to her.

"See you later, love."

[kaeyachi]

some kaeya facts that i want to remind everyone with because I miss him so much! (no angst this time i swear!!...but if you all want angst, I could also deliver hehehe)

1. Kaeya tells the children of Mondstadt some stories! Specifically, one that some forgot or didn't know of is that he has told the orphans under the church's care some horror story about the light in the lamp posts :D He had been shown to do a story telling to Klee while at the Veluriyam Mirage and he has also been reading to Klee her bedtime stories as well

2. Kaeya made Klee's survival rules! Kaeya has definitely done his part on preventing Klee from destroying Mondstadt before Celestia ever could (well, at least lessened the amount of times Mond gets bombed anyway). Anyone else think Kaeya purposely let Klee explode the Good Hunter's stove to avoid going to the Chasm? No? Ok-

3. He takes the attention when he dances! Depending on which language you hear it from, it is either a good or a bad thing. However, I am on team good thing simply because some mercenaries invited him to go dancing with them while he was in Sumeru ( very interesting information, Kaeya! Glad to know they found you so attractive that they did something they don't usually do!)

4. If you call him kind, he will attempt to look mean (and he fails at it lmao), and if he is not being mean, he will try to deny it. The traveler once listed down the kind things he had done for Captain Wu, a Liyue npc, and Kaeya proceeds to tell us that he records people who owe him (which is a lie. He forgot the person he helped TWICE. What he does have a record of is a well-detailed list of Treasure Hoarders and their rankings + patrol areas in Mondstadt). Another instance was during Jean's story quest where Kaeya planned the appreciation party for Jean where he gave the traveler all the credit

5. He is a great gift giver! (unless that person is Diluc because otherwise he will find the ugliest thing ever and gift that... arguably, that kinda sounds like amazing gift giving if we are talking about being an annoying sibling). He remembers passing commentary from friends and coworkers and gifts them accordingly.

6. He has his own intel network (and I'm theorizing that it is just a group of people he has helped before that insisted on paying him back in this way). Kaeya, after some heavy insistence from Captain Wu, asks him if he wants to be a friend or be part of his intel network and follow his commands no matter what. Vile, one of his known informants, also gave us a glimpse as to what it takes to be part of Kaeya's network, and that is the ability to decipher codes and read messages in between.

7. He is incredibly reliable as a knight! Not only do the people of Mondstadt agree that he is the more approachable cavalry captain between him and Diluc, but it is also a known fact that Kaeya has never failed to complete a mission to date (except the one during Diluc's 18th). Nearly every citizen of Mondstadt adores him and knows how reliable he is. Arguably, this success rate could be attributed to his "end justifies the means" mindset that not all find enjoyable, but he is definitely the person to ask if you want something done. Vile has once mentioned that she could just ask Kaeya to do the charming and convincing for her, dubbing him as a prince charming for it.

8. He is one of the people who spends so much time with Klee (potentially attributed by the fact that he also has more free time compared to others). He spends so much time with her that Klee mentions a few interesting things about Kaeya, such as the fact that Albedo draws Kaeya frequently (enough times that Albedo says Kaeya could be drawn by him easily. yes, it's that "three strokes" line lmao) and the fact that Kaeya has saved Klee from solitary confinement a lot. He is shown to be a very effective person when it comes to corralling Klee without making her feel bad as even when he was trying to berate her, he still ended up giving her a possible reward if she listens.

9. He is very meticulous. He willingly spends the time to get himself ready in the clothes that he is wearing, and he likes embellishments. He really is quite the perfectionist in his actions as well. (very Alberich of him!✌️) We can also see this in his handwriting that has been described as "beautiful" and again with his near perfect track record as a knight.

[savanir]

Death of the Father, Death of the Son

Part 2

part 1 is here and the og prompt can be found here again thanks for the prompt @mynameisjag as you can see I am not done with it yet

The aftermath of the gala was an absolute disaster in Jazz’s humble opinion.

At first she didn’t know what to think… 

When they wheeled out the body bag that supposedly had Vlad’s corpse in it, it just didn’t feel real.

Everything became a lot more real when her mom got back from her trip to the forensic lab, It really was Vlad. The GCPD went through this whole identification of the body process, everyone was already pretty damn sure for obvious reasons but they had to follow protocol. Elaborate time wasting in Jazz’s humble opinion.

Jazz stares at her phone while sitting in the overly expensive fancy hotel room fauteuil. All of a sudden she no longer really minded that Vlad had given them all their own private hotel room, the girl wasn’t stupid… She knew he did it in the hopes that her mom would magically change her mind about him and this way she wouldn’t get in the way. Interrupt them. Whatever.

But now it just gives her privacy and room to think. And think she does, thinking is all she seems able to do now.

This whole mess is just great rep for Gotham… ‘out of town millionaire gets assassinated on their first night in the city. zero hesitation’

People are mass sharing all the leaked dirt on Vlad on social media with the hashtag #Welcome to Gotham.

At the very least any potential harassment towards her or her mom was nipped in the bud once it became widespread that Vlad had actually hired some guy to kill her dad.

Ancients…

He hired a mercenary, some assassin, to kill her dad. Jazz vividly remembers when Danny would vent about the things Plasmius would threaten him with. but she always figured he did it to rile her brother up. 

For some reason she could believe the whole making her brother his son thing, just like she got the marrying her mom thing. And yet she never thought he would actually follow through on the murdering her dad thing.

…And what does this mean for Danny?

her phone is still blowing up but the only people she actually responds to are Sam and Tucker. Sam is mostly worried, asking how they are holding up and if she needs to come over and kick some corrupt police butt, or overly pushy paparazzi butt, or just nosy people in general butt. The offer is sweet but Jazz already saw how her mom verbally tore the rumour about a ‘battered wife/gold digger’ situation apart with facts and logic, so she’s not worried.

Jazz supposes that’s a good thing that somehow came out of all this… her mom got some of her spark back. 

Meanwhile Tucker is all in the GCPD systems and sharing the results of the police investigation with the rest of the team.

because of that Jazz knows that the Bats have already shown up to do their own brand of investigating, and also that the police don’t know shit.

It figures… The police also didn’t know shit when her dad was murdered and Danny got kidnapped. And they were all too happy to accept the fake dead Danny that got found in the forest, welp, kid found, he’s dead, case closed.

useless.

It’s been several days now and it’ll probably take another week or so before something concrete gets brought to the public.

Jazz thought she might get a vigilante visit at some point but they haven’t shown up yet. At least not to ask her anything… who knows maybe they have already spoken with her mom and she simply decided not to tell her as to not distress her or something, that would make sense.

—✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*---*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧—

It’s late in the evening now but she checked up on her mom earlier that day, she had been furiously going through all the things Vlad had gifted her and tossing them in a tiny and overly full garbage can.

“Jazzikins, once this whole thing is over we should head straight to his Wisconsin estate and burn it to the ground” Jazz can already see the fire burning in her mom’s eye, she’s completely serious.

“that will probably be extremely suspicious and get us in a lot of trouble mom” It would be very cathartic though, she will admit that.

Jazz had sat down and watched her mom go about her business, exorcizing Vlad from her life perhaps.

Eventually her mom sighed and asked, “how long do we still have to stay in this awful place?”

"We have to be available for the GCPD because they are still doing their investigation. They will most likely still have some questions, and i want to make sure there will be no misunderstandings with the notary later as well"

"That's my smart girl" Maddie pinches Jazz's cheek, "what do they still even have to investigate... though, perhaps it would be a good thing if they found his killer, that way I might be able to thank them myself"

Jazz winces, "Mom..."

"You're too sweet jazzy, you got that from your father" Maddie gives Jazz a kiss on the forehead before she goes back to what she was doing before.

Internally Jazz disagrees with her, she doesn't feel bad for Vlad at all, she's just looking at the bigger picture because she has info nobody else does.

Whoever killed Vlad was prepared to kill a halfa... and the implications of that fact terrify her and give her hope at the same time.

Danny is still out there somewhere, but he's most likely being exploited in some way.

—✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*---*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧—

And here she is, still staring at her phone, refreshing the feed and gradually feeling more worse as she skims the headlines.

the psychiatrist in her is telling her she’s doom scrolling and it’s unhealthy, what is she even looking for here? If the authorities identify the killer, will they even tell her? Tell her mom? they probably would to ‘aid with the grieving process’. but that tends to only happen when they have actually caught the killer.

And who knows when that will happen.

This is pointless anyway, if something useful gets found out Tucker will most likely be the first to know out of all of them.

Jazz refreshes the feed again.

nobody seems to think a Gotham rogue did it, they would have made it a spectacle. 

No, all the theories seem to think it was most likely the work of underground crime syndicates, or Vlad pissed someone off in some other country while doing business, and Gotham was simply the easiest place to get him killed, even though now the Bats are on the case. or, or…

She groans, gets up and makes herself some tea when she hears it. She’s turned around with the Fenton Anti-Creep stick raised and ready before she really knows what she’s doing and she sees two figures emerge from the shadows. Big and small. Batman and Robin.

Robin pointedly looks at the creep stick, batman disregards it entirely, "we would like to ask some questions"

Jazz looks at batman and then at Robin and then just sighs, grabs her tea, accepts that this is happening, sits down with the stick ready to go at any time and says, "go ahead"

Robin takes a strategic spot closer to the window, perched on the back of the gaudy couch for some reason and Batman gets closer perhaps to loom over her more? But he also sticks to the shadows, perhaps to make her feel a bit less intimidated with the distance? She decides to just stop thinking about it from that point on.

Batman goes over the statements Jazz already gave to the police, she mostly focuses on her drink while she elaborates on some of the things she said, but eventually…

“Most people seem to think this was an act of revenge but when the police asked you what you think the reason is why Masters got murdered you simply stated you don’t know, judging by the footage of the interrogation you were agitated”

Jazz frowns, “it had been a long day, at the time I wanted it to be over with”

“These statements are vital, especially from close acquaintances”

Her jaw tightens, “so you would like me to give a proper answer now?”

Batman stays quiet,

“The revenge part is obvious, but I just don’t think that’s all there is to it. I think someone wanted shut him up”

“and why would you think that?”

Jazz thinks very carefully and makes a decision.

“Vlad was not an easy man to kill…” she trails off, still thinking about how she’s going to explain this one properly, without revealing everything.

Batman stays quiet again, Robin however pipes up, “Because he’s rich?” 

She had basically forgotten he was there and there is a moment where she just blinks at him still perched on the back of the couch, “Well, as I am sure you both have seen by now he was more than capable of paying his problems to go away, but no, that’s not what I meant”

“hrn, go on”

Jazz swirls what little tea she has left and kind of wishes it was actually some kind of alcohol… even though she’s too young for that, and then she goes on, “Vlad was not human, not fully anyway, I don’t… know… exactly what his other half was-”

 A lie, but Batman decides to leave it be for now, no need to interrupt the young lady here, if he were to point it out she might clam up and stop talking entirely. 

"-He had gifts, one of them is intangibility, another invisibility"

They are aware that something is very different about Vladimir Masters. That much became clear when they activated the scanners they got in the forensic lab and took a good look at the corpse themselves. Those results confirmed some of the claims and accusations that everyone saw during the gala.

And it seems those close to the man knew of it as well.

Jazz goes on,

"Whoever attacked him must have been prepared for that... and considering there are only four people who know about it at all, that is… before… you know," she trails off.

"Only four" Robin mutters. 

Batman glances at the boy before asking, "Who knew?"

"Uh, me. Uhm two friends of mine who are currently back in Amity Park... and my brother, Danny"

"Tt, So that's three"

"Robin-" 

"My brother is not dead!" Jazz slams her hands on the table,  "The monster who killed my father kidnapped him, and now they are using him! The body that was found in the woods is a fake, planted by Vlad so my mom would stop looking and focus on him instead"

"Why would he-" Robin starts to ask while keeping a careful eye on the absolute vehemence coming from Jazz. One thing is very clear to both him and Batman though, Jazz believes what she’s saying wholeheartedly.

"He was an idiot, and obsessed with my mom. That's a very long and frankly unimportant story, but the proof is all in Vlad's lab in the basement of his estate. I can proof the body that was found was fake, my brother is alive" she buries her head in her hands, suddenly all the anger seems to be replaced with sorrow, 

"he's alive"

Robin shuffles uncomfortably side to side. He's gotten better at comforting distressed civilians but he's a little out of his depth right now. seeing as this is sorta his fault right now.

He looks over to his father to see what he'll do.

Batman just looks contemplative. Which isn’t useful for the boy at all.

It's then that Nightwing speaks up through the communicators to them, "B, I'll go to Amity Park and investigate both the Fenton household where the attack happened and then check out her proof at Masters estate"

Batman really doesn't like the full picture that's being painted here.

"Miss Fenton,"

Jazz rubs her hands over her face before taking a deep calming breath and giving batman her full attention again, "yes?"

"If I understand this right, you're saying you think the same assassin who took your father's life has now targeted Mr. Masters."

"Yes"

Robin shakes his head, "most assassins have some code of honor. It would certainly be a bad look to go after a former client like that"

Jazz scoffs,"Well it's been several months now. I don't know if Vlad kept in contact with that monster and managed to piss them off after the fact, that too could all be on his computers in his lab"

Batman grunts and  heads for the windows and Robin hops up to follow, "You'll hear from us miss Fenton"

She lets out a shaky breath when she's sure they have well and truly left. She figures she should update Sam and Tucker that she finally got a bat visit but the urge to refresh her social media and news feed doesn't come back.

With the supposed World’s Greatest Detective on the case she’s certain actual progress will finally be made.

She just hopes it’s not too late.

[fckwritersblock]

Ready or Not - Part 1

Terry Richmond x Black Reader

Word count: 1.7k+

(Unedited.)

Masterlist

There was little activity in the small town sheriff station. No reports had come thru or really been active. Your heart continued to raced, as you watched him through the glass window .

He had found you. Of course he had. You weren’t sure if he’d actually been looking or if it was by chance, thanks to Mike, his cousin and your reluctant ally. Shit, you didn’t even know Mike was in town when you first arrived. Apparently you’d been kidding yourself if you thought he’d keep his mouth shut when it came to you and your whereabouts. You should’ve known the moment you spotted Mike at the grocery store and he greater you with a smile full of a teeth and a “Hey, cuz!ñ it was only a matter of time before Terry knew exactly where you were.

Taking another job in law enforcement because you missed it was proving to be more and more of a mistake.

The bell above the door jingled softly as you ceased all movement, your pen hovering mid-air above the paperwork. It was a slow afternoon, and usually on days like this you’d welcome any distraction. But nothing could have prepared you for the sight that stood before you.

Terry Richmond.

He looked just as you remembered—Terry stood there, his tall frame and rugged demeanor unmistakable, dressed in a simple heather gray t-shirt that accentuated his broad shoulders. His low cut cesar and fresh line framed a face that was both familiar and foreign. A small but confident smile that had once made your heart flutter. You hadn’t seen him in years, not since everything fell apart.

Your eyes locked for a brief moment, and the air around the two of you felt charged, as if the years apart had never existed. You swallowed hard, trying to mask the rush of emotions that threatened to spill over.

“What are you doing here?” You managed to stammer, you voice barely above a whisper. It felt surreal to see him here, of all places—at your job, in a world where we had both moved on, or on you had tried to move on it.

Man you were going to kick Mike’s ass for this. He knew Terry didn’t play about you, same as you, regardless of your relationship status. But one thing was for sure: Terry was extremely good at his job. A former mercenary, he had a way of tracking down people, often leaving them with no room to escape. It’s why you moved around so much. You knew he’d find you if he wanted to. You knew he had been looking. You wanted to face Terry on your terms but it looked like fate had other plans.

Today was no different than any other day when it came to the way Terry Richmond operated. One thing was certain; he wouldn’t be leaving town until he got the information and results he wanted. The two of you didn’t exchange many words at the police station but you knew. He was there for Mike who had gone and got himself into some trouble. You had no idea to what extent until you did a bit a digging after eavesdropping. You must’ve been off during his initial arrest and transfer. Terry left on not so great terms with the sheriff and two of the deputies and you knew he this wasn’t over. Not but a long shot. By the quick glance in your direction before his departure you also knew it was only a matter of time before he showed up at your door. That thought alone sent shivers down your spine.

You bit your nails anxiously. The memories flooded back, sharp and vivid, as you recalled the moment you first spotted him at the station.

You glanced at the door, your heart pounding as you heard a soft tap at your front door. What followed was a sequence of taps and scrapes as if a key were being dragged across the door. You smiled a little immediately recognizing the Morse code and shook your head.

With a sigh, you removed the chain and deadbolt from the door, opening it slowly.

There stood Terry Richmond in all his glory standing up straight in all his glory.

“Peaches,” he nodded, drawling out the nickname he had given you years ago.

“Took longer than I expected.” You voiced.

“Aw baby you were waiting on me?” He gave you a cheekily grin to which you rolled you eye and unlocked the screen door, pushing it open a bit as an invitation inside before turning and heading toward the kitchen.

“Can I get you something to drink?” You offered, minding the manners your mama taught you.

“Naw P, I’m good.” He declined.

You shrugged as you walked to the other side of the island and grabbed your coffee mug. It may have me 9 something at night but you needed to do something with your hands to keep them from shaking and giving away how nervous you were. You intended to keep your distance between the two of you, knowing if he got the chance to actually put his hands on you, you’d be lost.

There was a comfortable silence between you, one that came with a familiarity that you knew if you sat in too long a particular kind of tension would build and good god you did not want to fall into the trap that the light skin demon in front of you knew how to easily lure you into based on years of practice.

“So, are you gonna say something or keep staring at me?” you challenged, trying to sound more confident than you felt.

“You look good. Let me stare a little longer,” he replied, his voice low and teasing, but there was something more in his gaze—something that made your heart flutter against your will.

“Terry,” you said his name with a warning tone, but all he did was smirk, that infuriating, charming smirk that once made your knees weak.

“How long?” You proceeded to ask, ignoring the butterflies in your stomach.

“Three weeks,” he replied, and you glared a bit crossing your arms.

“How?”

“I’ll always find you,” he said, his eyes narrowing slightly, a hint of determination mixed with something else—something deeper.

“So Mike?”

“Yep,” he confirmed, leaning against the table, his body language casual but his eyes intense.

“What’s exactly going on with that anyone?”

He sighed running a hand over his face before explaining everything that had gon on between him and cops earlier. What he had known of the trouble Mike was in and why it was so important to get him out of there asap. When Mike had first told him what he was mixed up in, prior to his arrest that was when he told Terry you had been right there in Shelby Springs.

“Know anything about what’s going down in this crooked ass place?”

“Honestly, no.” You shrugged, leaning forward on the island counter,. “I only started working there three weeks ago. I could tell there was something off around here though. A lot of things people say are strangely cryptic.”

“You don’t care to find out why?” he questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“Part of me does, part of me doesn’t. I don’t stay anywhere more than four months, and then I’m gone.”

“Yes, I’m well aware. Every time I think I know where you are, I show up and you’re gone.” His words hung in the air, a reminder of your unfinished business.

You rolled your eyes at his jab, but it stung more than you wanted to admit. “I’ve always been very good at my job, you know that.”

“So you are tired of this cat and mouse thing we got going on. This is your way of telling me you want me to find you?”

“In your dreams. How was I supposed to know Mike would be down here with his bullshit?” You mumbled, avoiding eye contact. “We’re in the middle of nowhere for crying out loud.”

“Yeah, well now those little officers you work with got my money, and that’s a problem for me.” “So you gonna help a brotha out?”

“I don’t even like you.”

“We both know you like me more than you’re willing to admit.”

“Terry,”

Just that quick, the energy in the room was heavy with the weight of memories and unfulfilled desires. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, pulling you in despite your better judgment.

“I’m lying?”

You snorted, rolling your eyes in disbelief. “I can’t believe Mike. Even at a time like this he chooses to meddle and now look.”

Maybe he’s just trying to help,” Terry said, stepping closer, the air thickening with unspoken tension.

“Help? By bringing you back into my life?” you shot back, though part of you was secretly thrilled at the thought.

“You know it’s not that simple,” he said softly, his gaze softening. “I didn’t come here to make things complicated. I came here because it’s bout time we had everything out for real.”

“Why now?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Because I can’t pretend anymore. Not after seeing you again,” he confessed, his intensity washing over you like a tide.

You took a step back, your heart racing. “And what if I’ve moved on?”

“Have you?” he challenged, his eyes searching yours for the truth.

Your heart raced as you looked into his eyes, the familiar spark igniting the air around you. You could almost hear the echo of the past, the passion, the pain, and the love that once bound you together. Your body couldn’t forget his if you wanted it to. He knew the answer. Hell you both knew the answer but you refused to give him the satisfaction of saying it, not after what he did.

“tell me you ain’t missed me…” he has now taken your hand in his and began rubbing his thumb over the of it gently.

“Because I missed you.” His admission surprised you, and you frowned, feeling a mix of anger and longing.

It wasn’t fair for him to say things like that. He missed you now, but when the tables turned and he had the chance to be with you, he disappeared without a word. You had left the organization seven months before he up and took another mission, leaving you feeling abandoned.

You shoved him away, your bottled-up emotions spilling over. “What are you trying to do? Bring up me up let me down again? What is there for me to miss?. The way you ran out on me, the way you pretended you cared, pretended you loved me!”

“Y/n,” he tried, but you shook your head, stepping back and crossing your arms defensively. Walls coming back over the quick progress he’d made in the attempt to chip away at them and bring them down.

“No, Terry. I don’t miss you.”

You could see the hurt flash in his eyes, and you felt a pang of guilt. He deserved more than that, the way the pain of his departure did more than stung to this day. Like it would forever be a fresh wound.

“I think I should go.” his voice heavy with resignation.

“I think you should too,” you agreed.

The two of you walked back to the front door, his visit ending before it could even really start. The air between you was thick with unspoken words, a history that refused to fade. “Terry, when you get down to the courthouse, Ask for Summer,” you added, still offering him a bit of help.

He nodded, but you could tell he wasn’t ready to let this go. “Y/n, can we just… talk? About everything?”

You hesitated, torn between the desire to open up and the fear of getting hurt again. “Maybe one day,” you replied softly, knowing full well that the past was a tangled mess that neither of you could easily unravel.

Closing the door behind him you turned and pressed your back against the door, heading following suit with a light thud.

“Fuck.”

[dazaissusidepatner]

Cale Henituse: The Unwilling Hero Who Plays the Fool

Cale Henituse, the protagonist of Trash of the Count’s Family, is a master strategist, reluctant hero, and a walking contradiction. He starts off as the typical "trash" young noble—a lazy, indulgent, and irresponsible heir. However, this façade is just a cover for his true nature: a highly intelligent, calculating, and fiercely protective individual who wants nothing more than to live a peaceful life… but ironically keeps doing the exact opposite.

1. Reluctant but Calculated Heroism

Cale does not want to be a hero—his primary goal is to live a slacker life and avoid trouble at all costs. Yet, despite his constant insistence that he is "trash," his actions say otherwise. He cannot turn a blind eye to injustice, suffering, or the struggles of those around him. He helps people, not because he wants recognition, but because it’s simply in his nature. His idea of "staying out of trouble" often involves eliminating threats before they become a problem, making him a paradoxical figure who actively ensures his own involvement in world-altering events.

2. Genius in Disguise

Cale plays dumb to perfection—his outward persona is that of a lazy noble with no ambition, but behind the scenes, he is a terrifyingly efficient tactician. He manipulates events and people with chess-like precision, using his knowledge of the novel's original timeline to outmaneuver enemies and secure a future where he doesn’t have to work too hard. He excels at information gathering, deception, and strategic planning, making him the kind of person who always has five backup plans in place.

3. Loyalty and Found Family

One of Cale’s most defining traits is his unwavering loyalty to his allies. Though he insists he only does things for his own benefit, he continuously gathers a devoted, powerful, and somewhat chaotic family around him. His subordinates, ranging from dragons and knights to former assassins and mercenaries, are all willing to follow him to the ends of the earth because of how much he genuinely cares for them—even if he refuses to admit it.

His relationships are some of the strongest emotional cores of the story. Whether it’s his father Deruth Henituse, Choi Han, Raon Miru, or Rosalyn, Cale inspires deep loyalty despite his claims that he’s a selfish, unmotivated man. He prioritizes their safety and well-being above all else, often risking his own life in the process.

4. Self-Destructive but Pragmatic

Cale has a terrible habit of self-sacrifice, even if he tries to rationalize it as part of his grand plan. He constantly underestimates his own worth and pushes himself beyond his limits, often leading to severe injuries and exhaustion. His “it’s fine, I’ll just bleed a little” mentality is both a running gag and a serious character flaw that his allies struggle to correct.

At the same time, Cale is pragmatic—he avoids unnecessary fights, prioritizes efficiency, and has no interest in being a traditional "good guy". He is willing to make morally grey decisions if they ensure long-term stability and safety. His sense of justice is rooted in logic rather than idealism, making him a refreshing contrast to typical self-sacrificing protagonists.

Conclusion: The Legend Who Never Wanted to Be One

Cale Henituse is a brilliantly complex character—a man who insists he wants nothing but peace, yet constantly rises to the occasion as a leader, protector, and mastermind. His reluctance, intelligence, dry humor, and deeply emotional connections make him one of the most engaging and layered protagonists in manhwa. Whether he likes it or not, he is not just a survivor of fate, but the one rewriting it entirely.

[chebyshevptera]

the way nya didn’t gaf about everything the ‘mercenary’ did despite seeing him literally almost kill arin in the world forest as soon as she found out it’s JAY… the way nya was smiling the ENTIRE TIME when she rushed over to Jay under the rocks despite Jay snapping at her and weakly defending that others have lightning powers and Nya’s STILL smiling while telling him nope, how it’s the FIRST thing she did when the immediate danger passed, her heavy breathing pushing rocks off of him, how it’s the genuinely the happiest we’ve seen her in all of DR and Jay’s memory and soul are still gone, but just the presence of Jay alone is enough for her, doesn’t matter how it happened.

Nya’s little “no way…” when she saw Rogue using lightning, and if there was any doubt in her heart that maybe it was a new elemental master he immediately makes a bad pun and Nya literally knows in her HEART right then that’s her man.

Like also, so much of others people’ perception of jay this season was rooted in an innate trust in his character? Kai literally had NO reason to believe that Jay would remember his childhood video game other than the fact that Kai knew it “IN HIS SOUL” that Jay would. He knew Jay on a level beyond memories and soul which is literally what makes up a person. And Nya, who heart exactly 1 joke out of Jay’s mouth to know that was him. I FEEL SICK YANMA

IM SICK TOO. OHVMY GOD.

the way they have so much love and faith and adoration for Jay that they don’t care if he’s lost his memories, or he’s a ruthless bounty hunter, or he’s mean and snippy and won’t let them touch him. they just care that he’s JAY. HOLY SHIT. THEY DONT CARE!!!! THEY JUST WANTED JAY BACK!!!! HOW DID THEY BEAT THE FORCING HIM INTO A BOX ALLEGATIONS LIKE THAT

(so far anyway lol)

gooddddddd goddddddd im ill. they know him so well… They know their blue tech guy … Kai knowing he would defend his score, knowing the way he plays…… Nya figuring out that’s her yin from his bad puns … Godddd. Im so fucked

also notably. the ninja don’t try to touch him once he tells them not to. i overlooked that on my first watch, but they don’t try to after the first time he stops them (Nya is a special case, he was going to trip and fall lol) . They let him limp to the table because that’s what he wants, they let him attempt to walk away cuz oh well whatever he wants to do, and Cole moves out of the way whenever Jay pushes past him instead of trying to grab at him, ohhhh my god they’re being so respectful of his boundaries even if he’s a bitch about it because they LOVE HIM and just because he’s changed it doesn’t mean he’s not still their guy, memories or not they’ll love him and i think that’s frankly sickening/pos

but omg omg him aside FUCKING. DUDEEEE. NYAAAAA SHES SO HAPPY. SHE BARELY STOPPED SMILING THE WHOLE TIME ONCE SHE STARTED TALKING TO JAY AT THE END. SHE LOVES HIM SO MUCHAND IM SO HAPPY THAT SHES FINALLY HAPPY WITH THE LOVE OF HER LIFE. OUHHHHAGWKQHEKQEHA😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 PLEASE MORE JAYA AFFECTIONATE BICKERING SCENES IN PART 2

sorry that this is incoherent I’m so tired and overstimulated lol BUT AHIHWJQGAJAHKA. JAYAAAA!!! JAY!! THE NINJA!!! im going feral

[zerosomnia]

Thunderbolts Bob Reynolds x Reader: Trying

Summary: Bob supports the reader who is drunk after a bad mission, which forced them to relive a part of their past.

Genre: Comfort angst (Bob comforts reader)

Warnings: Mentions of alcoholism and relapse on the reader's end. Mentions of Bob's past as an addict. Mentions of a child being the target of an assassination attempt in the reader's past. Depressing thoughts overall.

Author's note: I wasn't meant to write something sad but the playlist I was listening to became sad so... enjoy XD

Word count: 2,674

The ceiling of your bedroom twisted and swirled under your tired gaze. You had tried so hard. You had gotten so far. But a moment of weakness was all it took to undo your hard work. Initially, it had been easy to keep your head down, keep working, to help your newly branded team as you all worked through the high of helping to defuse the void situation. But now, when the hype had died down and all that was left was work, and you failed. Nearly a year sober, and you had broken your streak, all because of one bad mission. But it wasn’t just a bad mission. It was the shadows of your past. A reminder of who you were before meeting your friends.

The target had been tipped off by the very people who made you what you were. A mercenary for hire, a murderer, a monster. And you knew it was them as soon as you found the empty room. Your target was meant to be waiting, blissfully unaware of anyone even coming near. Instead, there was an empty room and a video playing on the screen, no. Not just any video. That one. The memory you had been striving to forget ever since it happened. You had rules, you see. A code you followed when it came to your missions. But that code was implemented for a reason, because you had experienced the results of your actions. And the day that caused you to implement rule number 1 was staring back at you on that screen.

Rule number 1. Children are never the target. You had been young when accepting the mission, cocky, confident that nothing could shake you. Doubt had rattled at the back of your mind upon finding your target, a young metahuman that wasn’t even aware of what she was doing wrong. Orders were orders, you told yourself. ‘She’s a threat’ your boss had said, adjusting the cufflinks of the suit that he wore. The one that was far too pristine, you didn’t know then – but you knew now; people with suits that pristine never dealt with the consequences of their actions. The video had been security camera footage of the murder. It wasn’t up close, but it was personal – and you remembered it all. Now every time you closed your eyes, visions of the child appeared. Her young eyes bright and curious, completely unaware of the danger that had stood in front of her.

So, you drank. And you focused on the ceiling. Watching the shapes swirl in a way that made you feel positively sick. You deserved this. You deserved to feel like this. For her. For the other innocents whose lives you had put an end to. Their souls sat like a weight on your chest, constricting and tight. Forcing you to choke on your sins. The empty bottle was the only reason you got up. Peering down the dark hallway to ensure that you were alone before you stumbled towards the lift that took you to the common room. Everyone else was, supposedly, asleep – since it was sometime around 2 or 3 AM. Your entire group was broken, a set of individuals who had done bad things and were now repenting. Most of them had it worse than you. At least you thought so. There was some comfort in not being special in how broken you were. In not being the only one with bad memories and even worse vices.

The lift doors slid open, and you wandered into the dark room, towards the minibar. As you leaned against the countertop, trying to steady yourself for a moment, a noise caught your attention. A sniffle. You tried to look to the source, but the combination of alcohol and the dark was not making it easy. So, reluctantly, you reached for the light. A figure was lying on the couch, twisting and groaning. Bob. He slept in the common room whenever he was having a rough night, a team agreement so that he didn’t feel so isolated in his own room. Now you felt bad for the amount of noise you had been making. You padded over to him, trying to be quieter than when you had first entered the room. ‘Bob,’ you winced at how hoarse your voice sounded as you gently rubbed his shoulder, trying to ease him out of his nightmare. He jolted, not quite awake but sharply reacting like he was trying to fight off some invisible creature. So you tried again. Only to immediately wish you hadn’t when his hand grabbed your wrist in a crushing grip, you winced but fell silent as you caught his eyes. They were still puffy with sleep, but there were evident flecks of gold that the sentry had brought with him. Slowly, the colour faded, and Bob’s grip loosened while reality settled. ‘You back with us now? Doing ok?’ You tried to sound casual, like your wrist wasn’t still throbbing from the sentry’s grasp.

‘I- I think so…’ Bob groaned, rubbing his face as he sat up. Meanwhile, you lowered yourself unsteadily onto the couch, trying to avoid Bob’s feet but feeling incredibly clumsy in your current state.

‘You wanna talk about it?’

‘It- it was just the… the usual…’ Bob trailed off. If you hadn’t been trying to avoid his gaze, you might have noticed the way his nose wrinkled and the concerned look he sent you. He watched as you stood back up, wobbling as you made your way over to the bar. Despite trying to hide it, the smell of the alcohol clouded around you. Bob had never seen you drink before. You had always refused at events, with a look that he knew too well. Resistance. He had, after all, been an addict himself. Although it wasn’t alcohol, he knew the avoidance, the coming down that made his skin burn red hot and left his body shaking. The thrumming in his skull that felt like a death march. He knew. And even if he didn’t, he knew the look of guilt that came with relapse. You couldn’t even look at him as you pretended that water was what you wanted.

‘Do you need anything?’ Your voice snapped him out of his own head as you filled a glass from the jug of ice water that always sat on the counter.

‘No… thanks,’ he tried to sound casual, but he was anything other than relaxed as he moved from the sofa. He regarded you with careful consideration as he approached. If it had been anyone else, he probably would have just left. He hated alcohol. But it was you. And this was strange for you. ‘Are you ok?’ For once, he wasn’t shy, he wasn’t stuttering, and any nervousness that he would have had around you was gone. He was more concerned with your well-being than with his own anxieties over being this close to you.

‘Yeah. I’m fine.’ You still weren’t looking at him. But you weren’t moving away either, not when he placed a hand on your arm, and not when he tentatively leaned forward.

‘Is... Is it alright i-if I hug you?’ he winced at his own question. He wasn’t sure where he was going with this. But he knew that when he was alone, he would have given anything for someone to hold him. A figure that wasn’t cold like a wall or a post, one that could hold him back.

You paused. Did you want a hug? A hug sounded amazing, but the idea of anyone touching you while you were in this state was daunting. Your nod was minuscule, so small you weren’t even sure if you were actually nodding or imagining it in your desperation for a distraction. Yet he saw it. You were surprised by how solid Bob was; he was holding you gently but firmly. Your cheek nuzzled against the soft material of his sweater, feeling his faint warmth bleeding through the fabric and the hammering of his heartbeat. You felt warmth in your chest, a burning heat that rose up your throat as the first cry escaped you. The fabric of his jumper was quickly dampened by the downpour of your tears. For once, you found yourself thankful that the bedrooms were on a separate floor, especially when you were sobbing so hard you were nearly screaming muffled cries against Bob’s chest.

Becoming aware of how unsteady you were, he lowered you both to the floor, never letting you go for even a second. You were grasping onto him like a life preserver; the desperation of your wails was tugging at something in his chest. No words were being said, but the noises themselves brought him back to all of the times he had felt so lonely and hopeless, like he was purposeless. Tears were burning in his eyes, not from his own pain, but from watching you have to endure the same suffering.

‘B- Bob,’ you hiccupped. ‘You- you don’t have to.’ He shushed you, quietly but firmly.

‘You helped me, just – just like everyone else did,’ He pulled back a bit to look you in the eyes. ‘It’s my turn to help.’ His eyes were so soft, so gentle. He wasn’t pitying you, there was no judgment in them. He was simply there, solid and steady, ready for whatever you needed.

As your cries started to slow, transitioning into small sniffles and whimpers. Your voice came out small and weak, to ask the question that was weighing on you.

‘Do you remember…’ It was a struggle, even to say it. ‘Do you remember what I did? What the void… what he showed you?’ Bob shook his head, punctuating his action with a quiet ‘no’. You made a sound at that, a wretched, weak sound.

‘I… I was an assassin… or more like a mercenary.’ Bob took a breath, not to interrupt you – to steel himself for whatever you were about to reveal. ‘I don’t know… I took money to kill people.’ You ran a shaky hand through your hair, which had become a mess of tangles and frizz from the friction of the hug and your tears. ‘I thought it was fine… the people I was killing, they must have done something – r-right?’ You sighed, slumping in on yourself.  Bob let you pull away, trying not to crowd you as you opened up to him. You rubbed your face roughly, like you were trying to pull away a layer he couldn’t see. ‘But she was… she was just a kid Bob,’ He swallowed, still listening but trying to process what you were saying. ‘She didn’t know what she was doing. She didn’t know she was hurting people! They – they just told me she needed to go. And I–I just did it!’ You were getting loud now, hot tears running down your face again, but not from sadness. These were rage, all of the anger you’d felt at those stupid suits for using you to dispatch of their inconveniences. Anger at yourself for letting them use you, for not doing anything except what you were told. Your hands were in your hair again, but they weren’t gentle this time; they were clawing, grasping fistfuls to yank at. Like a punishment for having thoughts, or maybe for not having thoughts. For being complicit. Why didn’t you do anything? Why didn’t you stop? Why didn’t you help? What was –

His hands were over yours. Massaging the tense muscles and unlocking your fingers so that he could pry your hands from your scalp. Bob moved closer, allowing his fingers to drop to trace your flushed, damp cheeks. His eyes were honest and intense, staring into yours like he was trying to bare his soul to you. ‘The person you were then, it's not who you are now.’  You felt a laugh bubble up in your throat.

‘Bob… are- are you quoting a book at me right now?’ A small smile cracked through his attempt at a serious face, and relief rippled through his eyes like they were a lake.

‘I was really hoping you wouldn’t notice,” his head dropped down in embarrassment. You could hear the pained chuckle in his voice as he cringed at himself. You reached up to catch one of his hands as they fell from your face.

‘No, no. It was cute.’ You found yourself shuffling closer to him.

‘It- it’s true though,’ his voice was quiet but determined as he met your eye again. ‘You told us when we met that you had a code. No kids is one of the rules, right?’ You nodded at him as he recounted what you had told him. ‘Well then- that means you’ve changed. Because… because you wouldn’t do that now. Y-yeah?’ You wanted to believe him. He was so earnest and so determined. But – ‘And I know, it's not that- that simple.’ It was Bob’s turn to get louder now, as he interrupted your inner voice. His hands started to move to punctuate his frustration at his difficulty in wording his thoughts. ‘But all of us,’ he motioned to the tower. ‘We’re trying to be better… r-right?’ He trailed off again, with wide eyes that matched your own surprised expression. Both of you were silent. Maybe it was the drink, but his face seemed really close right now.

‘You think that? That we’re becoming better?’ you leaned towards him, voice lowering as you studied his face. The act seemed to be reciprocated, mirrored even, as he did the same.

‘y-yeah. I think… I think we’re trying, right? And that’s what’s important,’ the last part of his sentence was nearly a whisper as your lips drew tantalisingly close.

‘Bob,’ Your voice was low with warning, stopping his tentative approach. ‘This is probably a bad idea right now.’ He seemed to come back to reality at your statement. Nodding, he pulled back and muttered some form of embarrassed agreement. There was a pause of awkward silence as he helped you up and handed you the cool glass of water that you had forgotten. The ice had melted since your outburst, and you chugged half of the cup in one go, feeling slightly nauseous at the cold liquid hitting your stomach.

‘I think… I think we s-should get you to bed.’ You nodded in response to his comment, following him almost robotically into the lift as he kept a firm arm around your lower back to stop you from stumbling. By the time you made it to your room, exhaustion had started to hit. You fumbled with the keypad a little as you typed your door code in. When you entered, Bob stood awkwardly at the threshold, unsure whether to follow or to leave. Although he didn’t cross, he stared earnestly at the little parts of your personality that adorned your room. The books that were stacked haphazardly on your desk, the coffee mug from this morning on your bedside table, a brown ring evident on it’s inside from the amount of use, and the attempt at crochet which was left strewn over the end of your bed. All of it made up you. Your lamp flickered to life with a clap, chasing away the twisting shadowy shapes that had occupied your eyes before.

Your voice was small and pleading as you turned to him. ‘Will you stay with me… for tonight? I don’t want to be alone.’ He nodded, sending you a shy smile as he finally stepped into your room. He delicately helped move some items off your bed before removing his sweater, which had been the only kind of ‘blanket’ he’d worn while sleeping in the common room. As he climbed under the covers, you scooted towards him, curling up on his side. He froze, deliberating for a few seconds before he stretched his arms out around you. After a few minutes of staring at the wall, he heard a small ‘thank you’ as you finally fell asleep.

[fluff-lover]

The one that got away (part 2) | Wolverine x fem!Reader

Summary: Your boyfriend broke up with you. Luckily your neighbor and good friend Wade is there to cheer you up. And his good looking roommate is a bonus.

This is based on this Reddit story

Read part 1 HERE

Warning: mature language, Wade Wilson being a menace. Bad writing (please remember English is not my first language, so if you notice something odd please write to me privately).

Note: writing Wade is HARD! Also I couldn't find the owner of that gif, so if it's you let me know.

Tagging @aheadfullofsteverogers because she asked nicely :3

Your days got a little bit better after Ben took his things from your place. Even though you could afford rent on your own, you began to consider getting a roommate, just so you wouldn't be alone, but you weren't in a rush. Instead you focused on your work, your friends, and making your apartment feel like a home again.

You would hang out with Wade and Logan every now and then, when they weren't off somewhere fighting crime, or whatever it is that they do. It didn't take long for Mary Poppins to steal your heart and you offered Al to take care of her whenever they guys were gone. Having the little dog around made your day better: you took her on walks and bought her little outfits and snacks. This little lady was definitely living her best life.

Slow but surely, life started to feel less glum. You knew it would take you time to heal from Ben's betrayal, but you didn't lose faith in love. At night, when the loneliness reached its peak and you wanted nothing but to curl in your bed and cry, you'd remember Logan's words and take comfort in them. 

“You deserve a real man that knows he’s the luckiest motherfucking on this earth, and every other earth, for having you.”

After that day things seemed to shift. You were in no rush to get into another relationship, but there was something about Logan that pulled you in. He could be a real grump around Wade -to be fair, Wade loved pushing Logan's buttons- but you've seen him being sweet to Laura, polite to Blind Al, and even gentle with Mary Poppins. But most importantly, he was a gentleman with you. Always kind and considerate, he would pull out the chair for you, offer you a drink or food whenever you stopped by, wrap you in a blanket during movie nights, and so on. It was so nice to be taken care of, to know there were still good men out there -probably in another timeline, but still counted-.

On Friday evening there was a knock on your door and when you opened you found your favorite mercenary on the other side. 

“Hey Wade, what's up?”

Wade looked all giddy and bounced on his feet.

“I have a massive favor to ask you.”

You made a face.

“Oh-oh, why do I get a bad feeling about this?” you joked.

“Vanessa and I are going to the movies tonight and I need you to come with us.”

You blinked, confused.

“Alright… why? I'm not saying no, but I don't understand why you want me there. Wouldn't I just be getting between the two of you?”

Wade sighed dramatically.

“Believe me, the last thing I want to do is have a group hang out when I'm actually trying to get back together with her. I would rather stick needles under my fingernails. But we're taking things slow, it has to be casual, chill.” He shrugged.

“I thought she was dating someone new?”

“She was but I know from a good source that he ended things with her.” 

You looked at him suspiciously.

“And your source is…?”

Wade looked around awkwardly.

“Okay, alright, I'll admit it. I left a horse's head in the guy's bed with a 

note.”

“Jesus, Wade!” You groaned.

Wade’s eyes softened and looked at you defeated.

“What other option did I have? They’re doing a special screening of Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back, and It’s her favorite!! Please? I don't want to do this alone. I would probably do or say the wrong thing, you know me!” He had a point there. 

You took pity on the poor guy, and you took pride in being a good friend. That being said, you could still have a little fun.

“What's in it for me?” You asked.

“Whatever you want! I can get Petter to give you a really good deal on a Honda Odyssey!”

You shook your head, laughing. 

“Endless tampon supply! I'll tattoo your face on my ass, anything you want!”

“Pass.” You said and Wade groaned. “Why don't you ask Logan?”

“I did, he said I could go fuck myself and that he doesn't want to be a third wheel. But he said he would come if you come too.”

That took you by surprise.

“He did?”

Wade hummed and nodded.

“Pleaseeeee?” He insisted, giving you puppy dog eyes.

“Fine.” You said defeated. “But you owe me.”

Wade drew a cross on his chest and smiled.

“A Deadpool always pays his debts.”

-

There are fates far worse than death…

… like chaperoning Deadpool on a date. 

Logan couldn’t believe what his life had come to be. Of course, his life on this earth was much better than the one he came from, people didn’t hate him, he was well respected. He was THE X-Men. All in all he should be happy.

But dear lord, Wade had a way to make every waking second psychological torture.

He hoped you would say no to Wade’s invitation, not because he didn’t want to see you, but because despite his tough exterior, the idea of going to the movies with his cute neighbor terrified him. He hadn’t been on a date since… he couldn’t remember when. And while he could tell there was chemistry between the two of you, he also knew that you were coming out of a long lasting relationship. Not to mention he didn’t think he was boyfriend material. He was the “worst” Wolverine after all.

So when Wade walked in with a massive smile on his face, hands rubbing together like some sort of evil genius, Logan knew he was fucked.

Dopinder drove you to the cinema, making a quick stop by Vanessa’s to pick her up.

The ride there was pretty joyful, you all tried to put Logan up to speed on Star Wars while he sat quietly on the passenger seat. Meanwhile Wade was sandwiched between you and Vanessa, but he didn’t seem to mind, if anything he liked it.

Once at the cinema, Wade and Logan went to get the tickets while you girls were on snack dutty.

“So…” Vanessa started when you two were alone. “You and Logan?”

“Me and Logan, what?” You asked.

“Wade told me he saw Logan leaving your apartment the other day, looking a bit… indecent.” she said with a wink that made you laugh.

“Wade surely likes to gossip!” You chuckled. “Nah, it wasn’t anything like that. He was there to scare Ben away…”

It felt really good to have a friend you could talk to about these things. You had been dying to tell someone about that evening with Logan. The way he felt protective about you, and how he tried to intimidate Ben.

You couldn’t help but giggle like little girls as you told her about the red lacy teddy he found, your face warming up as you did.

“He really did me a favor with Ben. He made me realize I can do better.” 

“Of course you can do much better than Ben.” Vanessa agreed. “And certain X-Men would be a great step up.” she added bumping shoulders with you.

“Oh please! There’s no way that’s happening. He is way out of my league.” You replied.

“Shut up, you can’t really believe that! He clearly likes you.” your friend insisted. “He scared your ex away, told you you deserved better, he even saw your lingerie and liked it!”

You felt your face getting even hotter.

“He was just being nice.��� You mumbled.

Vanessa rolled her eyes and scoffed.

“You’re so blind.” 

“Yeah, I think his hotness melted my retinas.” You joked. “Seriously, he’s way too hot to be two centuries old.”

Meanwhile Wade and Logan were in line to get the tickets, and of course Wade couldn’t stop yapping.

“So, when are you asking Babycakes out on a proper date?” He asked and Logan just growled. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Come on! You obviously like her! And she likes you too. I don’t know why, you’re pretty grumpy. Must be those amazing abs…” Wade rambled. “Don’t pretend I didn’t see you doing the walk of shame the other day, you slut.”

Logan elbowed him. Hard.

“Nothing happened.”

“Nothing R rated, you mean, but something definitely happened.” Wade went on. “I can’t always be your wingman, you know? Tonight is the first step, but after tomorrow you have to start asking her out on your own.”

Logan frowned, confused.

“What the fuck are you going on about?”

“For fucks sake!” Wade said dramatically. “You really think I need you to hold my hand while I take Vanessa to the movies? Hell no! We dated for years, we were engaged at one point.”

“That’s it.” Logan said furious. “I’m leaving.”

“Wait! No! Come on!” Wade pleaded.

“You lied to me.” Logan snarled. “For some fucking reason I decided to do something nice, just once, for you when you asked for help, and this is what I get.”

“Exactly!” Wade said, completely missing the point. “You get to go on a little date with the cute neighbor you have a crush on.”

“I don’t have a crush.”

“Whatever you say, Wolvie. Now shush, they’re coming!” Wade said before turning to you and Vanessa as you approached them, arms full of candy and snacks.

“Everything okay?” Vanessa asked as she noticed Logan shooting daggers at Wade.

“Just peachy.” Logan growled.

-

Vanessa and Wade were sited a few rows ahead of you, giving you a clear view of them as the movie played. Vanessa looked ahead, and you could picture her reciting each line by heart. 

But Wade? He didn’t watch the movie, he watched her. Your heart melted as you saw your friend quietly -and not so quietly- pinning for this woman. It was like he was trying to memorize Vanessa’s face, every single part of it.

You sighed, wishing someone would look at you like that.

Surprisingly Logan seemed to have a good time. He hoarded a bag of Sour Patch, which you found fitting. Every once in a while your hands would touch as you both reached for some popcorn, and you felt so silly thinking there was a sparkle there, as if life was some sort of rom-com. But you just couldn’t help it. He was handsome, strong and mysterious, yet so kind to you.

“Why is the green puppet talking like that?” He asked at one point. You giggled.

“Yoda? Oh he’s just like that, he’s very wise tho.”

“Eh, he’s creeping me out.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his comment, but suddenly stopped when a man in a row behind you rudely told you to shut up. You made yourself  small in your seat, until Logan turned to the man with an intimidating look.

“Don’t tell her to shut up. You shut up, you fucking asshole.” 

The man backed off, clearly afraid of him.

When Logan looked back at you, you were trying hard not to laugh. 

“Thank you.” You whispered.

“Never stop laughing, gorgeous.” He said before lifting his arm and placing it over your seat, around your shoulders. You smiled and leaned your head on his shoulder.

A few rows ahead, Wade had a massive smile on his face.

“I cannot wait to be Wolvie’s best man at their wedding!”

-

Once the movie ended you and Logan joined Wade and Vanessa outside the movie theater. The two of them had a sickly sweet look on their faces and you could tell they were still very much in love despite having broken up.

“So, um…” for the first time ever, Wade Wilson didn’t know what to say.

“How about you walk Vanessa home?” Logan told him. 

Wade quickly got the hint. Vanessa simply smiled and took Wade by the hand.

“I’d like that.”

You said goodnight and parted ways. Once you were far away from them you turned to Logan.

“That was very sweet of you. Helping Wade like that.”

Logan shrugged.

“I guess I’m just tired of hearing him whine and complain about being heartbroken. I swear, if I have to hear Careless Whisper one more time…” He groaned.

“He really likes Wham!” You chuckled before grabbing him by the sleeve of his jacket and pulling him to a side. “Come on! We’re getting ice cream!”

Logan was a “mint and chocolate chips” kind of man, while you were all about the sugary toppins. Ben used to tease you about it, saying you ate like a child, but Logan didn’t seem to mind.

While enjoying the sweet treat, you walked aimlessly through the night, talking about anything and everything. You told him about your childhood, your family and your job. He told you about the X-Men, about wanting to get a new motorcycle, and his work at the TVA. You wanted to ask him a million questions, but you knew he was a private man, so you stayed far away from touchy subjects.

Eventually you made it to the building and Logan, being a perfect gentleman, walked you to your door.

“Tonight was fun!” You smiled.

“It was but don’t tell Wade, it will go straight to his head.” Logan said and you chuckled. He then cleared his throat and squared his shoulders, as if he was getting ready to say something important. “If it’s not too much to ask, I would like to do it again.” Then he rolled his eyes. “Minus the other two, of course. As lovely as Vanessa is, Wade can be…” he said annoyed.

You laughed.

“I know what you mean. I would like that too.” You saw Logan visibly relax and then smile. He had a beautiful smile, so much so it made your knees go weak. “So… it’s a date?” You asked with a teasing tone.

“It’s a date.” Logan said with a nod.

You felt giddy, like a teenager about to go to prom. Without even thinking you took a step closer. Loga’s mind seemed to go in the same direction as he placed his hands on your hips and pulled you even closer. He started leaning in, but suddenly stopped.

“I… I haven’t done this in a long time.” he confessed in a whisper, embarrassed.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

“That’s the thing, gorgeous. I want to, I really do.”

You placed your hands on his forearms and slowly moved them up to his shoulders. 

“There’s nothing to be afraid of, then. Close your eyes.”

He did as you told him, and then you leaned up and pressed your lips gently against his. It was a simple and sweet kiss, but it was the right step towards something bigger.

Logan felt your lips curl into a smile against his. He could sense the scent of your shampoo coming off your hair. He felt your warm hands caressing his shoulders and neck. Your breath against his face, your heartbeat against his chest…

And it feels like home…

That little kiss turned into another, and then another, and then mutated into something deeper, more passionate.

Logan’s hands felt huge on you, one palm covering most of your waist, the other moving up to the back of your head, pulling your hair sensually.

You were about to let out the filthiest, nastiest moan when you heard a door open and your name being called.

You and Logan pulled apart and turned to your door. There, standing inside your apartment, was your ex-boyfriend, Ben.

---

[agalychnisspranneusroseus]

Some headcanons about queer acceptance among the different amphibian species which I came up with for the purposes of my fic

FROGS

There are some rare species of frogs in real life that can change sex according to enviromental pressures. This is true in Amphibia as well. The existance of a biological precedent results in frog culture having a pretty well-established concept of "gender transition" as a normal part of some frogs' lives. This doesn't mean frogs who can change sex can do it on command, or that the change is related to gender identity. It's not, more often than not, but this also means there's a precedent for a frog's gender "not matching" their sex, if someone changes sex involuntarialy. The presence of these frogs, while rare and only found in some regions of the continent, has resulted in the relationship between sex and gender not being self-evident in frog culture. While most transgender frogs can't "naturally transition" and have no acces to either the medical technology or magic to transition physically, they're considered completely normal. Frogs whose sex "doesn't match" their gender because of an involuntary change resulting from enviromental pressures are considered a different identity from frogs who socially transition because their gender identity "doesn't match" their agab, since these are different experiences.

Frogs die like flies, that's just a fact. The average way to die is being eaten by a giant bug before reaching 40. This means that 1) a lot of frogs are orphaned from a young age and 2) parents can't reliably expect their biological children to inherit property. So, adoption is incredibly common. Unlike in the case of newts and toads, biological ties are not a requirement for transmision of lands, property or titles (it's rare for frogs to have titles, but there are some cases), so same-sex couples pose no obstacle in the community's social reproduction. If anything, they're valued precisely due to their inability to have biological children, because it means there will always be a surplus of child-free adults in a community to adopt and protect orphaned tadpoles. A couple without children will be better equipped to care for an orphaned child than a family with lots of children.

Arranged marriages are common, especially in rural areas. Kids will often be engaged to each other from a young age as an agreement between their respective families in order to establish social alliances, protect property and ensure a good social standing. Parents often take into account their children's feelings on the matter and will try to find them an agreeable match, but they're the ones with the final word. Because heterosexual unions are still more common than same-gender ones, most arranged marriages are between male and female frogs. Same-gender arranged unions exist, but they're rare. A young frog is expected to fulfill the arrangement regardless of their sexual orientation, but because the main concern has to do with legal ties of inheritance, some spouses will allow their partners to pursue other people without their families' knowledge.

TOADS

Toad culture is incredibly militarized. They are considered legal adults by age 15 and, through a yearly lottery, many are expected to fulfill 15 years of compulsory military service in a Toad Tower, most likely one far away from where they were born. If your name comes out in the lottery, there are a few ways to avoid having to go. One is being extremely rich and buying your way out of it. Another is being disabled in a way that would incapacitate you to fight. While there are positions in the tower that don't require much physical prowess (there are stewards, tailors, cooks, scribes, accountants etc) these typically require some previous training. The toads drafted are used as foot soldiers. You can always also run away and become a bandit or a mercenary, which is very common. The fourth option is having biological children. Many toads will have children very young and give them up for adoption after a year, which means toad orphanages are brimming with unwanted tadpoles. Those, plus the ones whose parents died. This means adoption is also common in toads, though many of these young toads will grow up in the orphanage before joining a toad tower at age 15 willingly, hoping to make a name for themselves and earn a better life. Now, in a tower, same-sex relationships are actually more widely accepted than heterosexual unions, because a couple having biological children would force their captain to relieve them of their post. It would become an incredibly easy way for soldiers to abandon the towers without being labeled as traitors. There are a few incentives not to try this - a toad that completes their services will be set up for life, but one that doesn't, even through "legal means" such as becoming unable to fight or having children, won't get anything (if that sounds horribly ableist to you, it's because it is. The point is to save resources by providing for as few veterans as possible). If you're an orphan who comes from nothing, you really want to avoid that. Anyway, same-sex couples don't have that problem, so they give their captains less of a headache.

There are no toad species capable of naturally switching sexes, and since their encounters with frogs are often limited unless they live in a frog-majority town, their concept of gender transition is a bit more awkward. Many don't understand the purpose, or think it's a frivolous thing, a waste of time, something for soft-hearted frogs and the toad civilians that become too enamored with them. If it involves lots of introspection and consideration of your own feelings, it's worthless. Sure, they'll respect your pronouns if you insist on it, but they'll probably think you're pathetic and weak.

Toads have very little concept of individuality. The idea of "being your true self" sounds ridiculous to many, because the system crushes a toad's self. Caring about things like identity would make you sound self-important, pretentious, egocentric. A toad does not sit on the window to ponder their feelings. No one cares about their feelings. Sometimes they act on them, but they don't think about them.

Most toads don't own anything. The small portions of land given to veterans return to the Crown once they pass, and their children will have to find somewhere else to live. Many times, they join a tower, because they grant them some stability and security. They don't have titles either. Unless a family manages to buy land and/or property, there is no inheritance. Once a family acquires it, however, preserving the inheritance becomes a big priority. But unlike frogs, ancient laws hailing from the age of the old Toad Lords determine that only biological children may inherit. That means that if a family already has biological children, they're not likely to adopt, because that would only cause trouble and leave their adopted child with nothing. So, most heterosexual couples won't adopt, resulting in most cases of adoption coming from same-sex ones.

This leaves families with same-sex parents at an extreme disadvantage. Many toads will move on from same-sex relationships after their service and settle in heterosexual marriages in order to achieve safety and security. Same-sex relationships are accepted in younger toads, but it's something you're supposed to move on from if you want a stable adult life.

Of course, this is just the "ideal" outcome. "Ideal" cases are rare even among heterosexual unions and many toads lead much different lives after their service: becoming bandits, staying unmarried, sometimes even going to college and pursuing a career. Not to mention that around 1/3 of toads are never drafted at all.

NEWTS

The thing with newts is that they live the most peaceful lives. The most dangerous areas of Amphibia are guarded by the Toad Towers, while newt nobles enjoy the safety of kinder, more gracious lands. Sudden deaths are rare, and orphans are rarer. Even if a child happens to lose both their parents, they will likely have aunts or grandparents to look after them. Adoption is much less common, which makes same-sex couples less important as a social institution.

The other thing! While frogs and toads reproduce through amplexus - a position in which the male lies on the back of the female to rub their cloacas together and inseminate her - which, for the purposes of this analysis, we'll say fulfills a similar role to sex in our world, newts engage in external reproduction. Basically, a male releases a package of sperm called spermatophore, which the female absorbs with her cloaca, without the need for physical contact. Which means that newts don't f*ck. And since reproduction occurs without "sex", they have no need for sexual attraction. Therefore, all newts are asexual (though aromanticism is rare).

Some newts may consider themselves above toads and frogs, who they see as being brutish and impulsive, unable to control their desires. Many toads and frogs see newts as being cold and unloving regarding "sex". Some newts in romantic relationships with frogs or toads may engage in amplexus for the sake of their partners.

There are no newt or salamander species with the ability to change their sex, so newts isolated in Newtopia, who know little of what happens outside the city walls, may have never heard about frogs who can. The concept of a sex change is foreign to them. However, transgender newts do exist and, if they have the money, they have access to the best medical technology Newtopia has to offer, though it doesn't come with the social acceptance found in frog-majority regions.

Same-sex relationships are discouraged among noble folk due to the importance of inheritance, while working-class newts are more likely to engage in same-sex behaviors. Thus, homosexuality is considered something "impulsive" and "inelegant". A general bad idea if you care about your status at all.

SOME NOTES

Queer individuals don't face any extreme form of persecution. Gender transition and same-sex behaviors are strongly discouraged in some situations, but there are no laws prohibiting them and cases of violence against these individuals are practically unheard of.

Toads don't tend to identify with any specific labels, such as "gay" or "transgender", going off more by behavior than identity. A toad is not "gay", they simply practice gay activities.

Frogs do have different terms to identify transgender individuals, but not same-sex attracted individuals, who are also considered not to have any one specific identity but to engage in a varied arrange of same-sex behaviors.

Working-class newts are the ones most attached to the idea of labels and specific identities, while noble newts avoid the irremovability of labels, as they don't want rumors to stain their social standing. It's less world-dooming to be caught engaging in homosexual activities than to be forever labeled as a homosexual.

Arranged marriages between same-sex couples are only heard of among frogs, and even then they're rare.

The scientific term for frogs who can change their sex naturally is "sequential hermaphrodites". This is a very sciency term and while it's not considered offensive, different communities have different words for them. In Frog Valley, they're called "switchies". The Sundews are switchies! While Felicia and Ivy have never changed sex before, it's known that Sylvia has "switched" at least four times in her life! The term they use for transgender individuals who are not sequential hermaphrodites is "false switchies", which sounds bad, but has no pejorative connotations. it simply means the switching is purely social and not physical.

Anne is considered a "switchie" as opposed to a "false switchie" because she did "switch" some of her physical characteristics with the help of Maddie. Witches are very rare, especially in the south, so there are no specific terms for frogs who transition through magic, or even modern newtopian medicine.

[tethys-the-aquatic-sea-godness]

Sarevok's situation with Rieltar and the Iron Throne

There's a lot of room for guessing the details of Sarevok's life in the Iron Throne, but you have the outline of his situation. It's not as good as one might expect for the son of a leader, and it's vital in shaping his character. Sarevok becomes who he is because of his past and current situation. He's a character with depth, nuances, ambitions and motivations, not a flat, cardboard villain planted on his throne in an underground sewer, waiting for the murder race of 1492 DR.

This got way too long, you've been warned.

Because Baldur's Gate 1 has been out for so long, you tend to forget that Sarevok being the greater mastermind of the evil plot is a twist in the story. From the prologue, you know about the 'ominous figure', but not who he is, and it falls in the background when you get into the iron crisis- a crisis that has nothing to do with Gorion's ward. Sarevok is the foster son of Rieltar Anchev, a leader within the Iron Throne. It's a criminal organization where Sarevok is a member, but not a leader. It should be a cushy position, but it isn't. Let's see why.

First, let's recall the setting of Sarevok being adopted by Rieltar:

Sarevok is a homeless, orphaned child. He describes himself as an 'urchin', meaning he likely resorted to stealing and other mischief to live on the streets.

Rieltar is a wealthy man, a 'higher-up' within the Iron Throne, a mercantile organization with shady practices, a gang of sorts, closer to bandits than merchants.

I don't think I need to spell out how dodgy the whole thing is.

How Sarevok gets adopted is left up to the player, but a few things are certain. Sarevok is part of a vulnerable population, while Rieltar is of the upper class. Sarevok has no person nor structure to turn to should he need help. As a child, he entirely depends on Rieltar. Hunger, thirst, housing, clothes, other material needs and various threats that comes with being a homeless child, all of this gets taken care of if Sarevok stays with Rieltar. It's priceless, and a child wouldn't think past no longer being cold or hungry. Sarevok is affiliated to the Iron Throne from a young age, when he couldn't decide otherwise.

Sarevok is not a leader. it's his foster father, Rieltar, who is the leader of the western branch of the Iron Throne. The 'chief of operations'. He has two co-leaders with him, Brunos Costak and Thaldorn Tenhevich. Sarevok is the commander of their mercenary forces of the region, one of Rieltar's officer. Compared to Rieltar's own status, Sarevok's role is minor. There isn't as much nepotism going on as you might expect from a criminal organization passing off as a legitimate mercantile group.

The first time Sarevok is mentioned, he's a passing name in a letter found in the bandit camp, not a master mind- and that's how it was supposed to be.

Tazok, I have noticed that your shipments of iron have slowed of late. It is imperative that we receive another ton of ore. Step up your raids, and get a shipment to our base in Cloakwood within the next week. We need to stockpile as much ore as possible before our ultimatum is given. Also, Sarevok wants to know what has happened with the band of mercenaries. Have they been killed? You had better ensure that they have been, as Sarevok will not take kindly to any other news. Davaeorn

It's the first hint you get that he isn't like the rest of the Iron Throne. His own focus is more on the mercenaries disrupting the iron plot, more than the plot itself.

One interesting thing here:

"You had better ensure that they have been, as Sarevok will not take kindly to any other news."

-> Davaeorn is threatening Tazok with Sarevok, but Davaeorn himself isn't worried. Davaeorn could be nervous that Sarevok, son of the big boss, may cause him trouble if he doesn't get what he wants, but he isn't. No reason to think Sarevok is anything more than another Throne member.

After defeating Davaeorn, you find letters on him from Rieltar himself. In one, Sarevok's role and title are clearly stated:

"Davaeorn, Our plans go smoothly. Sarevok has arrived from our headquarters in Ordulin. He brings news from our superiors; they are pleased with our progress so far. I plan to place Sarevok as the commander of our mercenary forces in the region. He has already sent his subordinate, Tazok, to the Wood of Sharp Teeth to take command of the forces located there. Things go apace here in Baldur's Gate. We have placed our first agent among the ranks of the Seven Suns trading coster. Rieltar Flamerule, 1367"

It's not said in the letter that Sarevok is Rieltar's son. He is going to be named commander of the mercenary forces of the region. It's a new title, so I'd say his previous rank was equal or lower.

During your first stay in Baldur's Gate, you discover Sarevok is the foster son of Rieltar Anchev. Being the son of a wealthy man explains how Sarevok manages to get within the noble circles of the city for his popularity campaign, which I talked about in another post. Here's one interesting thing I got from this:

"From what I've heard, the new man with the Iron Throne, Sarevok, is an unmarried man."

-> He's considered new, however, the story starts in Mirthul (May) 1368, and from Sarevok's diary and another letter, you know he's been in Baldur's Gate in 1366, went back to Sembia at some point, then returned in Flamerule (July) 1367. That's two years on and off the Sword Coast and almost one full year on it, not to mention he's been in the Throne since an early age, but he's seen as new.

Sarevok's presence may not be public because he's working with the bandits, however, not knowing about Rieltar's son is common. Yeslick Orothiar is a companion who moved to Sembia where he met Rieltar. He pretended to befriend Yeslick, then tortured him to learn the location of the Cloackwood mines. Yeslick was in Sembia, and he doesn't mention Sarevok, or recognizes him when he comes to the party under a false name. So it's not just in Baldur's Gate, even back in Sembia, before Sarevok was commander, Rieltar doesn't mention his foster son— or the fact that he has one.

It can be explained by how Rieltar and other higher-up of the Throne see Sarevok, both his capacities and how far he can go. One telling example is during the Candlekeep chapter. Gorion's ward is going after Rieltar, the big bad at the time. You can go to Rieltar with the advice of 'Koveras', who tells you Rieltar is defenceless and this is the perfect time to kill him. He even gives you a nice ring to protect you. If you start digging through Koveras' dialogue, you might find something's odd with him and decide you don't want the ring. Joke's on you, it won't change a damn thing. Don't be too quick to laugh at Sarevok for only switching his name backward to change identity, it worked on Charname and their whole party (also worked on me when I was ten and had a pikachu face during the reveal).

Rieltar is a lot quicker to catch up than Charname though.

"Koveras! Who is Kove... of course. It seems I taught my son all too well. Well, my young pups, you've been set up to be used as dupes. Koveras does not want what's best for you, but rather what's best for him."

-> There's a brief moment of outrage before Rieltar realizes who Koveras is. The realization doesn't anger him more, it makes him calm down. He doesn't see Sarevok as a threat. It's unlikely he thinks Sarevok's plan goes beyond killing him, when it's in fact much more elaborate than that. Other Throne members straight out of Sembia underestimate how dangerous Sarevok is.

Here are a few more examples:

"She seemed surprised that Sarevok had taken control of this regional base. He is thought of as an upstart"

Kalessia: I have been sent from Sembia to determine why this branch of the Iron Throne has floundered [...]. Valdis (Charname): Why not ask Sarevok? He seems to be the one in control now. Kalessia: Sarevok? That upstart? Then the rumors I have heard are true. Our regional leaders here are dead and Sarevok has assumed their roles. Such arrogance! No doubt he has a hand in their demise, I'll wager. [..]

-> The outrage these criminals feel toward Sarevok's, well, criminal actions against them will never not be funny to me. Kalessia calls Sarevok an 'upstart'. She doesn't sound any more worried than Rieltar was, she sounds pissed that he would dare to do this. Also, she thinks he participated in the demise of their leaders, not that he orchestrated the whole thing. As if he isn't capable of it. I will stress this again, but Sarevok is the foster son of a high-ranking member of the Throne with wealth and influence. Yet, they talk about him as if he's of low rank. Somehow, I don't think the Iron Throne is a progressive organization that thinks wealth and social status shouldn't determine an individual's worth.

Later, inside the Undercity, you come across more people working for the Iron Throne. You get the following dialogue from two dialogue paths.

"We've been sent to hunt down Sarevok. Seems as if he went crazy and started murdering all who got in his way, including Rieltar, and the Throne don't take too well to having their high-ups killed."

"He doesn't seem that skilled at making friends. I am Rahvin, in the employ of the Iron Throne. My companions and I have traveled from Sembia to learn what has been happening to our operation in Baldur's Gate."

They're off to kill Sarevok. Just like that. Like he's just another guy with a bounty on his head. The twist of BG 1 is not only realizing Sarevok is the true antagonist, it's realizing Sarevok is not just a brute working for the Throne, he's a major threat to the Sword Coast and far from stupid. That's something characters who only know of Sarevok what is known in Sembia and have just arrived in Baldur's Gate don't realize. He has overthrown the entire leadership of the Iron Throne in the region, almost got the whole leadership of Baldur's Gate as well and they're simply going to 'hunt him down'. The way they talk about him is also telling:

"Seems as if he went crazy and started murdering all who got in his way"

-> He's talking about Sarevok as if he was a dog who went rabid, not someone who actively orchestrated the downfall of his employer.

"He doesn't seem that skilled at making friends."

-> Sarevok had the entire city eating out of his hand, he was about to be lawfully elected Grand Duke. Sarevok is skilled at making friends, when he needs them— and, when he has the right background to make the right friends. For example when he's known as the foster son of a wealthy business man without anyone knowing anything beyond that, like in Baldur's Gate. Something that's more complicated in Sembia, where people around him would already know he used to be a penniless urchin until Rieltar adopted him.

When you encounter characters working for Sarevok, rather than characters he works for, you get a different image of him, one that's closer to what you encounter in the game. There are two kinds, first, the zealots, those who already worship him as a new god.

"You have breached an inner circle, fool. There are no hired lackeys for you to bribe here [...]. We are servants of Sarevok and Sarevok alone, selected by hand to protect his destiny. [...] His will... be done!"

"So it has been decreed, so it shall be done. So orders Sarevok!"

-> Sarevok doesn't know how to make 'friends' in the strict sense of the term, but he knows how to be charismatic. He got servants to worship him before his actual godhood. These followers aren't part of the Throne, Sarevok independently recruited them to be his first faithful. Which is smart, considering gods in Forgotten Realms get stronger with more fervent and more numerous followers. Sarevok is planning ahead so he already has worshippers when he's a god.

If you played SoD (which is mid writing wise, but has good moments), you'll find that Sarevok's charisma struck again with other nondescripts fanatics.

"S. and I had a long talk last night. Everything he says make so much sense."

The other group of people are Sarevok's own underlings. These are mercenaries he recruited who are unaffiliated to the Iron Throne and only answer to him. You get interesting dialogue from Diarmid.

"Not a terribly original alias to be sure, but who is going to tell him that? Sarevok is quite used to getting his own way, and I gather subtlety is something that doesn't quite come naturally to him. He doesn't have the patience for it, though his mind is amazingly tactical. Certainly this made him perfect for organizing the Iron Throne's mercenary forces, though I doubt his superiors would say so now, what with his plot to have them killed. Such is the trouble with hiring highly motivated people. As underlings we can safely serve, but woe to those in a position he desires."

-> Is Diarmid scared of Sarevok? Yes. Does he respect him? Also yes, which increases the 'fear' part, I think.

Diarmid is a mercenary who's been working with Sarevok for weeks, maybe months. What he knows of Sarevok is surface level, but it doesn't match what other characters, who've been around Sarevok since Sembia know of him. Here are how different visions contradict each other:

"She [Kalessia] seemed surprised that Sarevok had taken control of this regional base." VS "[...] though his mind is amazingly tactical. Certainly this made him perfect for organizing the Iron Throne's mercenary forces [...]" / "Such is the trouble with hiring highly motivated people."

"Seems as if he went crazy and started murdering all who got in his way [...]" VS "[...] I doubt his superiors would say so now, what with his plot to have them killed." / "[...] woe to those in a position he desires."

Characters within the Throne are not supposed to know about Sarevok's plans, but they all react as if his behavior is an anomaly, they're blindsided. Yet, these plans match what Sarevok's mercenaries know of him: "have a tendency to only give information on a need-to-know basis"; "notoriously impatient"; "quite used to getting his own way"; "subtlety doesn't quite come naturally to him"; "his mind is amazingly tactical"; "highly motivated"; "woe to those in a position he desires"; "wouldn't sully his hands on those he didn't deem worthy of personally killing".

The Sembians's reaction is more understandable when you read the following letter, written by Sarevok to Rieltar. Sarevok's tone isn't what you would expect from him.

Father, I received your letter, and I can assure you that the mercenaries led by <Gorion's ward> will no longer trouble our operations. I have dealt with them personally. Before dying, they were most forthcoming in their revelations. It is as you had surmised: They were agents of the Zhentarim. I am also writing to tell you that I cannot attend the meeting at Candlekeep. Some problems have arisen with the Chill and the Blacktalons. They have had trouble working with each other, and I am needed there to smooth over any dissension. I am sorry that I will not be at your side. Sarevok

This letter reads like a dutiful son from start to finish. It's also a pack of lies from start to finish. Everything he says goes along Rieltar's own opinion, to placate him. The perfect son and officer, committed to his role. And it works, since Rieltar doesn't suspect Sarevok until he's told of 'Koveras'. You can assume the dutiful, uncompromising tone of the letter was the front Sarevok presented to Rieltar, and to other members of the Throne.

Reading Sarevok's diary, you see this is a front he has to present. Remember how Sarevok was named commander of the mercenary forces by Rieltar? Well, he wasn't even supposed to be part of his foster father's project.

"I have expressed interest to my 'father', and he has promised to include me within the operations along the Sword Coast. He mentioned Mother in our conversation: how I wasn't to be unfaithful to him as she had. He made it clear that I would suffer her fate if I was."

-> What a lovely father-son relationship. Anyways, if Rieltar had his way, Sarevok wouldn't have been commander, he would've left him in Sembia. Sarevok had to ask to be given a role. You'd expect the son a wealthy man to have a prime spot saved for him in his big project.

The next part of the excerpt is, in my opinion, the core to explaining the dissonance between what people from the Throne perceived of Sarevok, and what he's truly like. Rieltar threatens Sarevok, and that shows what this 'father-son' relationship really is about. For those who don't know, Sarevok's foster mother, who to this day doesn't have a canon name, was 'unfaithful' to Rieltar. It might be she cheated on him, but since it's never stated clearly, you could go with something else. Like trying and failing to kill her abusive husband, for example. As a punishment, Rieltar strangled her with a garrote in front of Sarevok when he was young.

Rieltar doesn't just threaten Sarevok, he reminds him of his place, which is the same as his mother. It's my guess that this is why he murdered her in front of Sarevok to begin with, so he would learn his place as a 'family member'. Someone Rieltar has complete authority over, including a right of life and death.

Sarevok brushes off the threats, but he does that as an adult and experienced fighter who is already planning to kill Rieltar and crush his operations. He wasn't always in that position. For the urchin Rieltar adopted, this threat wasn't 'weak' or 'hollow'.

This would explain why, despite being the 'foster son' of a wealthy and influential member, Sarevok is seen as an 'upstart' without a place in the upper ranks of the Throne. Because he is not his son to them, he is the urchin 'sponging off' Rieltar.

Another piece of the journal gives a little more information.

"The fool still insists on calling me his son, and for now I will let him. He assumes that I am loyal to him because he raised me."

-> Rieltar is confident in Sarevok's loyalty because he raised him. He provided for him and considers that should make Sarevok loyal no matter what. Even though Rieltar adopted Sarevok, their social classes are still very distinct. He's the one with the money and Sarevok should be grateful he spent some on him. 'Son' isn't an affectionate term (if the death threat above didn't make that clear), it's the reminder of what Sarevok 'owes' Rieltar. It would explain why Rieltar rarely mentions him. He has a debtor, not a son. When he discovers his plot to kill him, Rieltar says Sarevok wants 'what's best for him'. He knows why Sarevok wants out of this situation— he's the one who created it. Hence the threat. The devoted front is something Sarevok has to show, to ensure his own safety and the success of his plans.

Now I will go into a more 'grey' territory regarding a bunch of things that can't be checked with canon but are worth considering because of the situation:

First, does Sarevok have money? Rieltar does, yes. Sarevok works in the same group at a lower rank, he's both Rieltar's 'son' and his employee. As a commander, he likely has allotted money, but that's not his gold, that's for his job. Chances are he either doesn't get paid because he's working 'for the family' and that's another thing to be grateful for, or he does get money for his work, from Rieltar. Either way, Rieltar is the one who has control over Sarevok's finances. It's a good way to restrain him, and ensure his loyalty, since he won't get far without gold. Sarevok lived on the street before, he has ambitions, it's unlikely he's willing to rough it out again and be a homeless nobody. Rieltar surrounds himself with people he has control over, like his co-leaders: Brunos is dumb, and Thaldorn is a coward. They defer to Rieltar, who likely has an easy time controlling both. Having Sarevok at an officer position allows Rieltar to keep a leash on him, which fits his pattern.

Second, Sarevok has two genuine relationships that we know of. One was with his foster mother, and the other with his lover, Tamoko. If he had any real connections while living in the streets, they'd have ended once he joined Rieltar's household. Growing up, he'd be surrounded by people from the Iron Throne. The lowest in ranks would be under Rieltar's authority, and those of higher rank would only see the urchin Rieltar pulled out of the gutter. It's likely there were few children his age or anyone he could trust and build a relationship with. His connections are to characters he works for, and those who work for him. He's isolated, he doesn't have allies. That's another way for Rieltar to restrain him. There's the uncertainty of what 'unfaithfulness' means to Rieltar. Does Sarevok having someone he cares about gets in the way of being the devoted son Rieltar wants? Would the threat he makes on Sarevok's life include anyone important to him? It's possible. It would make any relationship Sarevok could have a weakness, which would impact how he views them. I would imagine he'd fight any feelings he developed for Tamoko before giving in, and he wouldn't introduce her to the man who murdered his mother. Having any attachment in this situation becomes a drawback.

Third, could Sarevok leave the Iron Throne if he wanted? Criminal groups rarely offer retirement. He's been involved since Rieltar adopted him, he's been working with them for years, and likely knows the group's inner workings well. The Throne is a criminal organization that wants to keep a legitimate front. With everything Sarevok knows, it wouldn't be smart to let go of him. Unless it's off a cliff. He's probably not an isolated case either. Youth with nothing to their names and no better options are easy to recruit and make good underlings.

Recap and conclusion:

Sarevok was pulled from poverty at a young age by Rieltar, a wealthy man who's part of a criminal organization. Through the murder of his wife, he's shown that he gives himself total authority over his family, and will harshly punish any form of rebellion. Growing up with Rieltar, Sarevok was affiliated to the Iron Throne from a young age and became another member. All that time, he remained under Rieltar's thumb, acting the part of the loyal son, while not showing anything that might cause suspicion. It's no surprise Sarevok charmed the city of Baldur's Gate when he has been fronting his whole life for Rieltar and the Throne, downplaying his ambitions and capacities. He doesn't appear as the true antagonist until late in the game, when he turns on the Iron Throne. They're blindsided and unable to fight back, while Baldur's gate is ready to name him Grand Duke. It's a victory on every front. He outsmarts the entire Iron Throne, the leadership of Baldur's Gate, he has the city eating out of his hand, he believes he's on his way to become a god. He used the organization that used him, got revenge for his mother's murder, his years of abuse, and had the nobles at his feet. He failed the godhood part, but he beat odds stacked against him. The urchin from the streets of Sembia rose higher than anyone ever thought possible.

It's important because Sarevok's situation connects to a game's theme and to his misbeliefs. One of Baldur's Gate theme is that your choices matter more than your nature- which is the direct opposite of one of Sarevok's own misbelief. He is convinced his nature as Bhaalspawn predestines him for violence and destruction. The most telling example is in ToB during dialogue if you're trying to change Sarevok's alignment.

"And do you believe I have another choice?"

"After… after all you have been through? With the taint in your soul, you still believe this?"

If you reply positive, you wreck his world enough to make him speechless. And enough to trigger his alignment change. It's a deeply rooted belief, one that affects how he interacts with the world around him, and it's directly connected to his past. Sarevok is also convinced he needs the ability to dominate others, hence his quest for power.

"I… don't understand. What is the use of power if you do not carve out an empire for yourself?"

Sarevok grew up first in the streets, where he was prey to all manners of dangers. Then, he was in a brutal and callous household where his freedom and his life were conditioned by his obedience. It's not said how long he's been working for the Throne, but likely as soon as he could fight. Growing through this, violence would be an everyday part of Sarevok's world, and of himself. He views the world through that twisted lens, where the strong crushes the weak. Learning he's a spawn from a god of murder would cement that belief by giving meaning to that violence. Sarevok isn't a wealthy, privileged man greedy for more power, he's someone from an impoverished background who only views his relation to others and the world as either having others at your mercy, or being at the mercy of others. And he's been the one preyed on for a large chunk of his life. By seeking power, he ensures control not only over his own life, but over other people's lives, because if he controls them, they can't control him.

Sarevok was shaped by his environment, which allowed him to survive, but also messed up his adult life. He has no genuine relationship, they're all transactional. Cythandria, who will brag about loyalty, is with him for wealth, power and sex. Sarevok knows that, he's with her for similar reasons. They're intimate, but their self-interest comes first. Winski Perorate is 'loyal' because he's getting his divine glory by proxy through Sarevok. They follow Sarevok because they get something out of him and he keeps them around for the same reasons. Tamoko is an anomaly in this, because Sarevok caught feelings. Feelings he wasn't equipped to handle because they couldn't fit with his mindset. That's the core tragedy of their relationship, it was doomed from the start, even without the game's events. Tamoko loves Sarevok without wanting anything from him but his company, and he cannot believe that. I made a post about them, and I do think he leaves her because the taint would push him to kill her if she stayed, but I also think it's easy for the taint to manipulate Sarevok, because he's predisposed to believing the worst. Being with Tamoko required effort, because it challenged Sarevok's mindset. Her betrayal confirmed it: he let someone get too close without check and got stabbed in the back.

While Tamoko didn't fully understand Sarevok, she's the on who sums up the situation best:

"You had Gorion to guide you did you not? Sarevok had no one. He draws his strength from his hatred, from the thought of rising above those he knows to be inferior."

In BG 1, Sarevok doesn't fail because he's weaker than Gorion's ward, he's more powerful when you face him, but he's holding on to misbeliefs that make him the puppet of the taint, whereas Charname is master of their own choices, harnessing the taint or rejecting its control. But there is nothing about Charname's nature that is superior to Sarevok and vice versa. The one thing that separates them is the past that shaped them.

Sarevok's story is tragic. He doesn't become a ruthless man because of his nature, but because he was young, alone and poor. Those around him exploited that. His situation gives nuance to his character, enough to make you feel for him. Even when he's only the antagonist, he has depth, and ToB further improves his writing, making a point to show his duality and his struggle to change, to uproot himself from the soil he grew up in. Sarevok never is a one-dimensionnal character, not as a villain, and not as a companion.