#does he seem a little eager to get rid of her to you...?

[shroompette]

pt2

Maine Coon Cat!König who isn't surprised, but is still ecstatic when Bunny!Reader wakes him up one day by whispering "I think I'm pregnant" in his fluffy ear during a lazy morning in bed. His eyes snap open immediately, fuzzy tail standing up in attention and back coiling with tension, as if trying to stop himself from pouncing on her immediately from sheer joy. "Say that again, bitte."

MCCat!König who smothers Bunny!Reader's face with kisses until she's giggling and playfully pushing him away, of course, to no avail. His kisses trail down her neck and to her not yet protruding tummy, nuzzling the soft skin there with reverence, even as she strokes his hair and reminds him their baby is barely the size of a bean right now. He doesn't care. All he can think about is the fact that their family is about to grow soon and while he loves the three buns like his own, there's an undeniable excitement within him about the fact that what resides in his lover's womb has his DNA.

MCCat!König who, together with Bunny!Reader, sits the buns down in their laps to tell them that soon, they'll have a little sibling or two. His eyes crinkle as he smiles widely at their reactions. They seem rather excited, their fuzzy, floppy ears perking up as they listen. The little girl immediately paws at her mommy's belly, trying to feel for the babies while one of the boys leans in and tries to listen, eager to hear the movement that isn't detectable yet. The other boy, however, raises an important question. "Where did mommy get the baby from?"

MCCat!König who exchanges awkward glances with Bunny!Reader before they try to explain the origin of the developing offspring to the buns, keeping it as child-friendly as possible. Though they seemed rather skeptical about König supposedly gifting their mommy a special apple that made her pregnant, they did not question it, apart from the oldest triplet: "Can every apple make you pregnant then?" "No, only the ones with special seed." He pretends to not see her annoyed side-eye glare.

MCCat!König who cannot keep his hands off of Bunny!Reader, whether he's stroking her ears and cheeks, cupping her belly protectively when they spoon or palming her breasts from behind, feeling them slowly swell with milk, thumbs gently brushing over her nipples which are now hyper-sensitive to touch. She has to slap his grubby hands away and dash when she starts lactating because he CAN and he WILL lick the milk.

MCCat!König who's now highly protective and impossible to get rid of, following Bunny!Reader everywhere like a puppy, often with the buns hanging off of him. She can really only get a few minutes of peace when she goes to pee and even then, König's like a guard dog, stood in front of the door like he's expecting their den to be busted in any second. At night, his arms are locked around her - never too tight, since he wants her to be as comfortable as possible. It isn't always achievable though, as Bunny!Reader's skin has been burning up for a few weeks now due to the pregnancy and it's very hard to get a good night's rest when her lover is a goddamn sentient furnace. She always wakes up sweaty and sticky, but doesn't dare to complain; anytime she does, the pervert tries to clean her body with his tongue.

MCCat!König who practically has heart eyes when Bunny!Reader's belly finally starts showing. At any opportunity, he will drop to his knees and kiss the bump, purring loudly whenever he feels the little one stir and kick. His big hands freeze on her belly when he feels one too many kicks from multiple directions. His tail, honest to god, starts wagging at the possibility of twins.

MCCat!König who indulges Bunny!Reader's every whim, whether it's her desire to spend the entire day in bed while he caters to her, going on walks in the rain (with her and the buns properly bundled up of course) or simply satisfying her regular cravings for the strangest things - honeyed avocado, peas in chocolate, even jerky. The other day, König caught her in the garden chewing on tulips, making brief eye contact with him. Even with cheeks full of petals, she looked remorseless. He couldn't help but be in love with how grass blades and leaves stuck out of her hair (and also relieved that what's been eating their flowers aren't some giant-ass insects).

MCCat!König who makes biscuits on Bunny!Reader's belly and thighs, gently kneading her plump flesh while purring loudly, making her laugh and wiggle under his hands, her squeaks attracting the buns who wander in and mimic König's activities with their little hands, accidentally tickling their mommy.

MCCat!König who knows Bunny!Reader's due date is close when she starts to arrange pillows and blankets into a warm nest. But, much to his dismay, she will only allow her buns near. Her primal rodent instincts unfortunately make her very irritated and snappy whenever König comes around, if only just to check on her. He tries to not take it personally, knowing that preparations for birth are stressful and she doesn't mean to stomp and chase him away from the room, it's just in her nature. Still, his anxiety gets the best out of him and he starts to question whether she'll allow him near her and their kids at all, with her being so territorial now.

MCCat!König who so badly wants to be there for Bunny!Reader during birth, but he does not want to stress her out even further, so he stays in the other room with the buns, letting them pile up on him and nap while he keeps his ears strained in case his lover calls for him.

MCCat!König who wakes up hours later to Bunny!Reader's gentle voice calling him, his stirring awaking the buns as well. He carefully opens the door to their bedroom and damn near melts when he sees her in the nest, curled protectively around two - no, three! - fuzzy bundles which are mewing and squirming. He makes a hesitant step and looks at her for approval. Only when she nods and smiles, he comes forth and kneels to finally meet his kittens.

MCCat!König who tries (and fails) to not sob as one of the babies grabs his finger with its tiny fist and squeezes. He looks so proud of his two little girls and a boy - and of their mother as well. He leans in and kisses Bunny!Reader's forehead, quietly thanking her for the wonderful new addition to the family.

MCCat!König who watches the buns gently handle their new siblings, seemingly excited at the prospect of being older brothers and sister. He watches Bunny!Reader smile tiredly, but proudly. König couldn't believe how lucky he is, to have her bring three little miracles to his life for the second time. He had no doubts that his lovely family is nothing short of perfect.

masterlist

[wholoveseggs]

(Quick note: I typed this all out using Elijah’s name but I wanted to say if you don’t think this would fit his character, I think this could also make sense with Kol. Don’t feel pressured to write anything!!)

Hello Lissa! I had an idea about reader and Elijah’s first time together but reader is also a virgin. I know that you’ve wrote a lot of readers first time fics with Elijah but it’s such a sweet trope and I absolutely love how he takes care of the reader in your writing.

How much do you know about dragons? (Don’t worry this isn’t going that way.) In a lot of myths and legends dragons are described as being attracted to virgins because of their purity. My idea is that the latest threat looming over their heads is some type of dragon and no one is too worried about being taken because none of them are virgins and they assume reader isn’t either. But Elijah, being her best friend notices the way her heart begins to race everytime they mention it and all of her other little nervous habits and pulls her to the side. She ends up confessing the truth to him and he tells her it’s nothing to be ashamed of and then after a bit of conversation offers to take her virginity. For safety reasons, obviously, or at least that’s what he’s telling himself. With an eventual confession between them about their actual feelings.

For Safety Reasons

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

{Kol Mikaelson x f!reader} A dark legend. A looming threat. And Kol Mikaelson offering a very unconventional solution.

♡♡ Hellooo sweet anon!! I decided to use Kol for this one, mostly for the banter hehe.. enjoy xoxo ~ ♡♡

6k words - Warnings: Smuttt, virgin reader, first time, lots of teasing, oral (f!receiving), Kol being unbearably good at it..., blood-drinking, friends-to-lovers but still pretending it’s casual, a brief Elijah cameo (I can't help myself) cocky yet affectionate Kol, lot's of giggles and awkwardness && maybe a dragon...

Chaos was the order of the day in New Orleans. Strange rumors had been circulating throughout the French Quarter about something that was wreaking havoc on the city and no one seemed to have a clue about what it could be. It had been targeting young people and killing them in the night, leaving behind nothing more than a bloodied pile of flesh and bones.

Naturally, this caused quite a stir amongst the supernatural residents of the city, and they were all eager to get rid of the threat. Even the witches had no idea what it was, which meant that the problem wasn't going to go away easily.

And that was why a meeting was called in the compound, by Klaus. He needed all of the factions to come together and discuss how they were going to fix this problem.

You were sitting with Kol, whose nose was deep in an old book. You weren't even sure what kind of book it was. It was in a language you couldn't understand, and so old you feared it would poof into dust under Kol's very hands.

"Whatcha reading?" you asked him, leaning against his side a little.

Kol didn't answer you right away, and when he did, it was only to mutter the word 'purity' under his breath.

"Purity?" you questioned. "What are you talking about? What does this have to do with the attacks?"

He didn't look up at you. His brow was furrowed in concentration, and you could tell he was working something out in his head. "Nothing. It's probably nothing."

You looked at him in confusion.

"It's just an old legend about dragons...It's an archaic notion," Kol answered. "A myth. A legend. An idea that was created centuries ago."

"An idea? What do you mean?" You were getting more and more confused.

Before he could explain anything further, Klaus stood up from his seat, drawing the attention of everyone in the room.

Kol set his book down on the table, and you noticed an intricate drawing of some sort of reptile-humanoid creature. It was hideous looking, with sharp teeth, claws, and bat-like wings.

You couldn't tear your eyes away from the page, even as Klaus began to explain the killings happening in the city. Something about this creature just drew you in. The ink on the page seemed darker the longer you stared at it, the jagged lines of its claws curling as if ready to tear into something...or someone. You shivered, unable to shake the feeling that it was watching you.

"Do we have any leads on what this is? What is its weakness?" One of the witch leaders spoke up.

"If we did, it would already be dead," Klaus retorted.

"Perhaps we should stop trying to track it down, and instead focus on figuring out what it wants," Elijah suggested. "If we know what it wants, perhaps we can negotiate with it."

"What makes you think this thing can be negotiated with?" another witch demanded. "We have no idea what its agenda is. Why are these young people being targeted? Why hasn't anyone seen this thing?"

"Perhaps there's a link we haven't found yet," Kol chimed in. "Something we're missing."

"You sound like you already have an answer, brother," Klaus said. "Speak your mind."

"It's more of a theory, really," Kol admitted. "One based on legends."

"Let's hear it," Elijah prompted.

"Right, so, the victims. They're all young, yes? Unmarried?"

The room fell silent as the supernatural residents of the city nodded.

"What if it's...what if they're all..." Kol trailed off.

"All what?" Klaus demanded.

"Virgins," Kol finished.

Silence fell once more as the room considered Kol's words.

"So, what, this thing enjoys a virgin sacrifice? Is that what you're suggesting?" Klaus's voice was incredulous.

"I'm saying this creature feeds on innocence. On purity." Kol gestured to his book. "According to legend, dragons enjoy the dark and they are drawn to virgins. They're a delicacy, apparently."

Elijah hummed thoughtfully, reaching for the book Kol had been studying. He flipped through the fragile pages, his brows knitting together in concentration. “If that’s true,” he mused, “then we may have a way to predict its next victim.”

A slow, dawning horror crept through you as the conversation continued around you. No one in the room seemed particularly concerned… Why would they be? The assumption was clear: none of them fit the criteria.

But you did.

Your heart kicked against your ribs, your fingers tightening in your lap. You forced yourself to stay still, to breathe evenly. The last thing you needed was anyone noticing how much this conversation was affecting you.

Unfortunately, Kol noticed everything.

He had been watching you as soon as he mentioned the word virgins. At first, he thought maybe you were just unnerved by the idea of a beast roaming the streets, but then he saw the way your breathing had shifted, the way you refused to meet anyone’s eyes. Most telling of all? The rapid, frantic rhythm of your pulse. This was more than that…

Realization flickered in his dark eyes, something unreadable passing over his face before he leaned toward you, voice low and teasing. “What’s got you all jumpy, darling?”

You stiffened. “Nothing.”

Kol tilted his head, amusement dancing on the edge of his smirk, but there was something deeper beneath it now… something knowing.

“You sure about that?” His voice was softer now, more serious. “Because I could’ve sworn your heart nearly burst out of your chest a second ago.”

Your throat felt too tight. You could feel the weight of his stare, could practically hear the thoughts clicking into place behind his dark eyes. He knew. You had to get out of here before anyone else picked up on your growing panic.

You pushed up from your seat, trying to make a quiet escape, but Kol was already on his feet, catching your wrist before you could slip away. His grip was gentle but firm, and the warmth of his fingers sent another unwanted shiver through you. “Come with me,” he murmured, already steering you toward the hall.

You barely registered the questioning look Elijah sent your way before Kol tugged you through the compound, weaving through its corridors until you were somewhere quieter, more private. Only when he was satisfied that no one could overhear did he turn to face you fully.

“Tell me,” he said, voice low but insistent. “Tell me why you reacted like that.”

You hesitated, staring at the floor, but Kol wasn’t having it. He took a step closer, crowding into your space just enough to demand your attention. “Darling,” he pressed, “are you a virgin?”

You sucked in a sharp breath, your entire body tensing.

Kol let out a soft, almost disbelieving laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Bloody hell,” he muttered.

He looked back at you, his usual playfulness tempered by something else… Concern? Possessiveness? Whatever it was, it sent your pulse racing even faster.

“You know what this means, don’t you?” he continued, his tone serious.

You nodded, barely able to speak past the lump in your throat. If the legends were true, you were exactly what this thing was hunting.

Kol cursed under his breath, rubbing a hand over his jaw. Then, in true Kol fashion, he exhaled heavily and shot you a wicked smirk. “Well, love, there’s an easy way to solve this problem.”

You blinked at him. “What?”

Kol arched a brow. “I mean, it’s simple. If this thing is only after virgins, all we have to do is make sure you’re not one anymore.”

Your stomach flipped. “Y-you cannot be serious.”

“Oh, I’m very serious.” His smirk widened, but there was something else in his eyes now, something unreadable. He shrugged, feigning casualness. “Think about it. It’s not a bad idea.”

You gawked at him. “Not a bad idea? That’s your solution?”

Kol leaned in, voice dropping to something dangerously low. “What? You don’t trust me to take care of you?”

Your lips parted, your brain struggling to catch up. Kol had always been a flirt, but this was different. His teasing carried weight, an offer laced in his words.

For safety reasons, obviously.

At least, that’s what you were telling yourselves.

Your cheeks warmed. You wanted to tell him no, wanted to shove him away and storm off. But the heat pooling low in your belly begged to differ. And, as much as you hated to admit it, Kol had a point.

If the creature was only targeting virgins, then losing your virginity could be the solution. The easiest, most convenient solution. And with Kol... Well... It wasn't exactly like you were opposed to the idea.

Still, the whole situation was enough to have you shaking. Your hands twisted in your skirt, a nervous habit Kol was quick to notice.

He sighed, expression softening, and reached out to gently cup your cheek. He rubbed his thumb along your jaw, his touch warm and soothing.

"Or you can die a horrible bloody death? I mean... If you are that disgusted by me," he teased.

You huffed, shoving him. "Ass."

He laughed, tugging you closer and leaning in until his breath was ghosting across your lips. "So, what'll it be, darling?"

You bit your lip, staring up at him. There were so many reasons why this was a terrible idea, but none of them felt important anymore.

"Where?" You asked so softly, that normal hearing would have missed it.

Kol didn't miss it, and his eyes lit up with a hunger that sent a fresh wave of heat through you. He took your hand, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. "Tonight," he promised. "My room. Just after sunset."

"Sounds romantic," you replied, it meant to sound sarcastic, but came out a bit breathier than intended.

He smirked, squeezing your hand. "See you tonight, darling."

"Yeah," you whispered, heart hammering wildly as he let go of you and disappeared back down the hall.

Your palms were sweaty, your skin tingling where he touched you. You weren't sure if you were excited or terrified. Probably both.

All you could hope for is that you weren't making a huge mistake.

Kol's room was located in the attic of the compound. It was a smaller space, with a slanted ceiling and a large cosy bed tucked into the corner. It was simple, compared to the rest of the house, but it was undeniably Kol.

Your gaze swept over the cluttered surface of his desk, over the stacks of books and notebooks, the old photos and the trinkets from his travels.

"See anything you like?"

You whirled around, heat spreading through your cheeks. Kol was leaning against the doorway, his dark eyes sweeping over you. Why?!! Why did he have to look so good in just his t-shirt and a pair of jeans? It was not fair.

But you pulled yourself together enough to tease him back, "Rather odd choice of bedroom, all the way up here with the spiders."

Kol scoffed, shutting the door behind him. "I'll have you know I quite enjoy the solitude. Besides, no one will hear us from all the way up here."

You tried not to focus on the last part, but failed miserably. He was grinning at you with that same mischievous smirk he always wore, and you had no doubt he knew the effect his words were having on you.

"So... Uhh. How are we doing this?" You asked awkwardly, feeling the need to break the silence.

"Hmm." Kol walked past you, settling down on the edge of his bed and looking up at you with a devilish glint in his eyes. "Well, that's entirely up to you, darling."

He reached out his hand and pulled you into his lap, and a soft squeak escaped you at the sudden motion. You shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position, but the feeling of his hard chest pressed against your back was doing nothing to ease the butterflies in your stomach and Kol's smirk widened.

"What is it?" he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "Do I make you nervous?"

You huffed. "Just not used to...being this close, is all."

"We've cuddled before," he pointed out, his hand sliding further down your side, resting just above your hip.

"Not like this... That was a friendly snuggle. This is a..." You paused, not sure how to finish the sentence.

"Snuggle with benefits?" Kol supplied, and you couldn't help but laugh.

"Sure," you giggled. "Something like that."

He chuckled, pressing a light kiss against your neck. Then he gently lifted you and moved you into the center of the bed, so that you were lying down and he was hovering above you, braced on his arms. "So, do I?" He murmured.

"Do you what?"

"Make you nervous."

You swallowed. "No," you lied, and he chuckled again, leaning in until his lips were ghosting over yours.

"Really?"

You nodded.

"So, if I kissed you right now..." He trailed off, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

You held your breath, heart pounding.

"...That would be fine with you?"

"Uh huh."

"Okay," he breathed. Then his mouth was on yours, warm and gentle and so full of tenderness that you couldn't help the moan that escaped you.

He smiled into the kiss, his hands moving down your sides, gripping your hips and pulling you flush against him. The sensation of his body pressed against yours sent a rush of heat through you, and you arched into him, eager for more.

He slid a hand underneath your shirt, his palm brushing against the bare skin of your stomach, and the contact was enough to make you shudder. He groaned, pulling back just enough to whisper against your lips.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," you panted. "Just... sensitive."

"In a good way?" he teased, and you rolled your eyes, pushing at his chest.

"Don't get cocky."

He laughed, kissing you again and shifting his hips against yours, and the feeling of his hardness grinding against your core had you moaning into his mouth.

"You seem to like my cockiness," he teased, rolling his hips again and you whimpered, burying your face in his neck.

"Shut up."

"Never," he growled, kissing your cheek and pulling back just far enough to strip his shirt off and toss it to the floor. You had seen Kol shirtless countless times before, but this was different.

You ran a hand over his stomach, marveling at the feel of his abs flexing beneath your fingertips. You traced a line down the center of his chest, letting your nails scrape lightly against his skin.

"I guess you are pretty fit," you teased, and he smirked.

"You don't need to guess," he purred. "I know you think I'm hot."

You scoffed. "You are not getting a bigger ego, I won't allow it."

"It's too late," he said, capturing your mouth again, kissing you deep and slow. He shifted his weight onto one arm, trailing the other down the side of your body, tracing a line down to your waist.

"Now," he whispered, his fingers trailing along the hem of your shirt, teasingly skimming beneath the fabric. "Can I see more of you?"

You bit your lip, nodding.

He lifted your shirt over your head, tossing it aside. His eyes roamed hungrily over your exposed skin, and the sight of his pupils dilating made your pulse skip.

You barely had time to register the rush of cool air against your skin before Kol’s hands slid up your sides, his fingers toying with the straps of your bra.

"May I?" His voice was softer now, patient, but the heat in his gaze made your stomach flip.

You nodded hesitantly, but as soon as he reached behind you, unclasping it with ease, a fresh wave of shyness flooded through you. You instinctively crossed your arms over your chest, cheeks burning.

Kol let out a soft, amused chuckle. "Oh, darling," he murmured, brushing his lips against the shell of your ear. "No need to be shy. You’re breathtaking."

You bit your lip, hesitating. His hands gently traced the curve of your arms, coaxing them away, his expression utterly captivated. He pressed a gentle kiss against your shoulder, then traced a path with his lips, following the curve of your collarbone. His touch was light and careful, as if he were afraid of hurting you.

Your hands tangled in his hair, half-heartedly trying to tug him away. "Kol..."

"Yes?" He hummed as he kissed his way down the center of your chest, pausing just above the valley of your breasts.

"Y-you don't have to do that...I'm fine, really," you stuttered, cheeks flaming.

"Did you think I was just going to shove my cock in you unceremoniously and be done with it?" Kol chuckled.

"I... well..."

"That is not my way," he assured, his lips ghosted over the swell of your breast, his warm breath teasing you.

You didn't get a chance to respond, because his tongue found your nipple, and all coherent thought fled.

He circled it slowly, sucking gently, his other hand finding your breast, massaging the soft flesh. He teased and played, switching between the two until both of your nipples were hard and aching.

His lips were soft and warm and so damn perfect, and you could feel the heat of his tongue as he moved further down your body, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses along the way.

His fingers hooked in the waistband of your skirt, sliding the fabric down over your thighs and tossing it onto the floor. His lips traveled over your stomach, nipping lightly at your hip bones.

"Really.. you don't have to, Kol," you said weakly, despite the fact that every cell in your body was screaming at him to keep going.

He ignored your protests, his dark eyes flicking up to meet yours as he placed a kiss right above the hem of your panties.

"These are cute, did you wear them just for me?" He murmured, tracing the edge with his thumb.

"N-no," you stammered, and he chuckled.

"You're a terrible liar."

"Maybe you should stop asking me questions then," you shot back, and he smirked.

He lifted your thighs, draping them over his strong shoulders, his eyes locked on yours.

"Can I?" He purred, and the sight of his dark gaze, framed by your legs, had your heart pounding.

You nodded, and he rewarded you by dipping his head, running his tongue slowly over your clothed sex. The heat and smell of you sent a shudder through him, and he groaned, pulling you closer.

He licked and sucked, his tongue pressing against the soaked fabric, teasing your clit. He could feel the way it swelled under his touch, and the sound of your breathy moans was making him painfully hard.

“You are so lovely,” he murmured against the damp lace, his breath hot and teasing. He placed another slow, deliberate kiss over the fabric before glancing up, mischief glinting in his dark eyes. “Are you sure you want me to stop?”

You let out a shaky exhale, fingers tightening in his hair. “I…I never said stop.”

Kol smirked, his grip on your thighs tightening as he pressed another kiss to your inner thigh, scraping his teeth lightly against your skin. “Good girl,” he purred, and the two simple words sent a wave of heat pooling deep in your belly.

Without further teasing, he hooked his fingers beneath your panties and dragged them down your legs, his gaze locked onto yours the entire time. You swore you could feel the weight of his stare, the way he was drinking you in like a man starved.

Then his hands were on your thighs again, urging them apart, and he lowered his mouth to your aching core, licking a slow, deliberate path from your entrance up to your clit.

You gasped, and he chuckled, repeating the motion and adding more pressure. Your head fell back against the pillow, pleasure pulsing through you as he worked his tongue over you. His movements were practiced and sure, like he already knew exactly what you liked, and your breath caught in your throat as his tongue slid lower, circling your entrance before pushing inside.

The feeling was unlike anything you had experienced before, and you couldn't stop the desperate whimpers from spilling past your lips. He rubbed your clit with his thumb, his eyes flicking up to watch your face as he lapped at you. You looked down at him and the sight of him buried between your legs, his dark hair falling in his face, his cheeks flushed with need, was enough to have you coming apart.

Your orgasm hit hard, ripping through you with an intensity that had you crying out, trembling under the force of his skilled mouth. He didn't let up, didn't pull away, just kept working his tongue until your back was arching. You feared you would pull out his hair with how tightly you were gripping it, but his muffled groan and the way his tongue was thrusting deeper inside you only urged you on.

You came again, the second one more intense than the first. By the time he was finished, your thighs were quivering, and you were a panting, sweaty mess.

"Fuck," you gasped, and Kol chuckled, placing a light kiss on your inner thigh.

You slowly caught your breath, and Kol kissed his way back up your body, pressing his lips against your throat.

"Still nervous?" He murmured, and you shook your head, wrapping your arms around him.

"Not even a little," you said, and his lips curved into a smile.

"Good," he said, and then his mouth was on yours, his tongue brushing against yours, and you could taste yourself on his lips. "You are such a pretty little thing, darling. So fucking perfect."

"Shut up, you don't have to be charming, it's just me."

He smiled, brushing his nose against yours. "No, darling, I want to. I'm going to make this good for you."

"Kol..." You didn't know how to tell him that it was already better than anything you could have imagined.

He kissed you again, softer this time, his fingers tangling in your hair.

"I promise I will go slow, okay?" He whispered, and you nodded, biting your lip.

He slid a hand between you, unbuckling his jeans and pushing them down over his hips. You took in the sight of him, the muscles of his stomach flexing, the faint lines of his abs, the v shape that disappeared into his boxers.

He was hard, and you could see the outline of his length straining against the fabric. It made you a little dizzy, seeing how much he wanted you, and you swallowed, reaching out to run a hand down his stomach.

"I want you to know...," he began, and you looked up, meeting his eyes. "I'm not just doing this because I want to protect you."

You bit your lip, fighting back a smile.

"I also happen to really, really, want to fuck you." He added.

You giggled. "So eloquent."

"What can I say, I'm a poet at heart."

You laughed again, and he leaned down, capturing your lips in a deep, searing kiss.

"If I do anything you don't like," he murmured against your mouth, his hand sliding down the side of your body. "Or if you want to stop, just tell me, and I'll stop, okay?"

You nodded, and he kissed you again, one of his hands was planted beside your head, holding him up, while the other was freeing his cock from his boxers. You could feel his erection pressing against your inner thigh, and the sensation sent a wave of heat washing through you.

"Kol, wait, before we..." You began, and he froze.

"What's wrong?"

"I want you to bite me," you blurted.

"Rather kinky for the first time," he teased as he gently spread your legs, settling between them. "We can work our way up to that,"

You blushed at the way he was looking at you, his gaze roaming over your bare form. This was it, there was no going back now. Not that you wanted to.

He brushed his nose against yours, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. "My sweet darling," he murmured, and you melted into his touch.

He reached down, grabbing himself and giving his length a few lazy strokes. You spread your legs a little wider, and he positioned himself, his tip brushing against your entrance.

Kol let out a deep, satisfied groan as he eased himself fully inside you, his forehead dropping against yours. The stretch burned, but it wasn’t unbearable… more like an unfamiliar pressure, a new sensation that left you gasping for breath.

"Well," he exhaled, voice low and teasing against your lips. "That was the big event. Congratulations, you are no longer a virgin."

You let out a breathless laugh, your fingers curling into his hair. "Well, I guess we’re done here then," you shot back, mimicking his tone.

Kol huffed a laugh, shaking his head as he nudged your nose with his own. "Oh, sweetheart," he murmured, his hips rolling forward just slightly, making you gasp. "We’ve only just begun."

Your body twitched beneath him, still adjusting, and he paused, watching your face carefully. "Still with me, darling?"

You swallowed, nodding. "Yeah… just, um, a lot all at once."

Kol smirked, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth. "That’s the idea, love."

He started moving, slow and measured at first, his hands gripping your hips as he tilted your body just right beneath him. The feeling was overwhelming, the sensation of him moving inside of you making your breathing increase.

"That’s it," Kol praised, his tone smug as he watched your expression shift. "I knew you would feel so good around me."

You huffed, biting back a moan as he rolled his hips again, this time a little deeper. "You just have to make everything about yourself, don’t you?"

Kol chuckled, leaning down to press a kiss to your throat, his lips lingering over your pulse. "Would you have me any other way?"

You wanted to argue, but the way he angled his thrusts perfectly against that growing ache inside you stole your breath, leaving you clutching at his shoulders instead.

Damn him.

"You’re taking me so well, darling," he murmured against your skin, his hand skimming down your thigh to hook your leg around his waist, deepening the angle.

Your moan was borderline embarrassing, and Kol grinned like a man who had just won the lottery.

"Shut up," you mumbled, flustered by his smugness.

"I haven’t even said anything," he teased, rolling his hips again, sending a sharp wave of pleasure through you.

You whimpered, arching into him, and he groaned, his mouth finding your collarbone, nipping at the skin there. His fangs scraped against you lightly, and you wanted to feel them sink into you.

"Kol," you breathed, voice hushed.

He glanced up at you, slowing his thrusts just slightly. "Hmm?"

Your fingers slid into his hair, tugging just enough to make his breath hitch. His lips hovered against your throat, his fangs still barely grazing the sensitive skin there.

"Please… I want you to…," you whispered.

Kol’s body stilled completely.

His dark eyes flickered up to meet yours, searching. “Darling…" His voice had lost its usual teasing lilt, dipping into something rougher, more serious.

"I mean it," you murmured, stroking your thumb along his cheek. "I want to feel you."

Kol swallowed hard, his restraint visibly slipping. "Are you sure?"

You nodded, tilting your head to the side in silent invitation, your eyes closed, heart racing.

He watched you for a moment, the way your chest rose and fell with each shallow breath, the way your pulse jumped under your skin. You were the most precious thing in the world to him, and he couldn't believe that you were here, willing, trusting him.

His lips brushed against the hollow of your throat, feather-light. He felt your heart skip, your fingers digging into his shoulders.

"Easy, darling," he whispered, and then his fangs sank into your flesh.

The pain was sharp, a stinging ache that had you sucking in a breath, but then the pleasure hit, a heady rush of warmth that left you dizzy. It was unlike anything you had felt before, a strange, euphoric sort of high. You could feel his lips move against your skin as he drank, his hips resuming their steady pace, his hands holding you firmly beneath him.

His tongue flicked out, swiping over the puncture marks, soothing them. Your blood was hot and sweet, and the sound of his name falling from your lips in a moan had him nearly feral with desire.

You were overwhelmed, every sensation heightened by his bite, the feeling of his lips on your skin, his cock deep within you, his hands gripping your hips. He was everywhere, his touch lighting up every nerve, his voice rough and breathless in your ear, calling you his darling, his love. The connection had always been there, lingering in the background, and now it was like a floodgate had been opened. You could feel his adoration, his lust, his possessive desire to claim every part of you, and the intensity of it was almost too much to bear.

You were close, so close, and he could feel it. He could feel everything. He could feel the way your muscles tightened around him, the way your heartbeat quickened, the way your skin flushed beneath his touch.

He would easily burn the world down just to stay in this moment. To make it stretch out forever, the two of you wrapped up in each other, bodies and souls entwined.

You clung to him, lost in a haze of bliss, your orgasm washing over you like a tidal wave, crashing down, sweeping you away. He followed soon after, groaning as he came undone, his movements growing erratic.

He rode out his climax, his hips stuttering as he emptied himself deep inside of you. Then he collapsed against your chest, his breathing ragged, his body slick with sweat.

You could feel his heart pounding against yours, and the sensation made a giddy laugh bubble up inside you. He lifted his head, his expression equal parts shocked and amused.

For a moment, there was only the sound of your laughter, the two of you tangled together, a mess of limbs and sheets. Then he sat up, pulling you into his lap, your bodies still connected, his arms wrapped tightly around you.

"I fear I'm going to keep you in my bed for the rest of eternity," he mused, stroking a hand through your hair.

You giggled, snuggling closer to him, your arms winding around his neck.

"It's a good thing I like you then." You teased.

Kol grinned, kissing the tip of your nose. "Just like? You wound me."

"Hmm," you hummed, pretending to think. "I suppose I like you a lot."

"Well, I suppose I like you a lot as well," he quipped.

"Good," you sighed, resting your head against his shoulder. "Because I'm not going anywhere."

"Not ever," he whispered, sealing the promise with a kiss.

You were still catching your breath, tangled in Kol’s arms, when a sharp knock on the attic door made you both freeze.

"Kol, there's news."

Elijah’s voice.

Your stomach dropped as your eyes snapped to Kol’s. He looked equally unimpressed, his smug post-coital bliss evaporating into exasperation.

"Go away, Elijah," Kol called, his chin resting lazily atop your head. "This is hardly the time."

There was a pause.

Then another knock, firmer this time.

"It’s important, Kol."

Kol groaned, flopping back against the pillows dramatically and pulling you down with him. "Honestly, you’d think he’d know better than to interrupt such a special moment."

You smacked his chest, still mortified by the thought of Elijah standing on the other side of the door. "Kol, just tell him to leave before-"

Before you could finish, the door creaked open.

Elijah stepped inside, his face composed… until he saw Kol in bed, bare-chested, disheveled… and then you.

Wrapped in the sheets.

Still very much in Kol’s lap.

A rare, almost human moment of horror flickered across Elijah’s usually unreadable face. His shoulders went stiff. His eyes widened ever so slightly.

And then, very slowly, he turned his back to you both, adjusting his cuffs as if that could somehow fix this situation. "I… was not aware you had company."

You wanted to sink into the mattress and disappear. Kol, however, was completely unbothered. If anything, he was amused beyond words.

"Well, perhaps you should learn to take ‘go away’ seriously," he said cheerfully, pulling the sheets up around your shoulders in a poor excuse for modesty.

You buried your face against Kol’s chest, horrified.

Elijah cleared his throat, clearly regretting every decision that had led him to this moment. "I’ll be brief."

"Please do," Kol drawled, stroking your back. You buried yourself further against him, wishing you could vanish.

Elijah took a measured breath, ignoring Kol completely. "We caught the killer."

Your head snapped up. "What?"

Elijah nodded, still very pointedly looking at the ceiling rather than at either of you. "Turns out, it wasn’t a dragon. There was no mythical beast involved at all."

Silence.

Your stomach twisted. "What?" You repeated.

"The culprit was a rogue witch," Elijah continued, clearly eager to finish this conversation and erase it from his memory. "He was targeting young people he believed had latent magical abilities, using ritual sacrifice to steal their power."

You stared at him, blinking.

Kol tilted his head. "So… no dragons stealing virgins, then?"

"No, Kol." Elijah replied flatly.

Kol nodded slowly, taking this information in. "Ah."

There was a beat of silence.

Then Kol laughed.

Not just a chuckle. Full-bodied, amused beyond reason, utterly entertained.

You, however, were not laughing. And neither was Elijah, who shot a quick glance at his brother, confusion written all over his face, before turning away again.

"I will leave you both to… whatever this is." Elijah said, gesturing vaguely at the two of you. "Just... please make use of the lock."

He was gone in a flash, and you buried your face against Kol again, mortified.

"This is not funny, Kol!" You cried.

Kol, of course, was still laughing, you tried to squirm out of his arms, but he held you tight, pulling you back against his chest.

"I can't believe you're laughing right now!" You huffed, smacking his arm.

He snorted, his body shaking with laughter. "I'm sorry, love, I just..." He shook his head, still chuckling. "This whole situation is hilarious."

"To you," you grumbled, and he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

"Doesn’t change the fact that you were absolutely desperate for me." He said, and you glared at him.

"Shut up." You muttered, pulling the sheet around you.

Kol's lips curled into a smirk, and he pulled you closer.

"Don't pout, love," he purred, brushing his nose against yours. "Don’t be shy about it now. The damage is done. Your virtue has been thoroughly ruined."

You groaned, covering your face. "I hate you."

Kol grinned, crawling over you again, his weight warm and familiar as he kissed your jaw. "No, you don’t."

You sighed, relaxing just slightly as his lips trailed along your collarbone.

After a moment, Kol shifted, resting his forehead against yours, his voice quieter now. "Do you regret it?"

You hesitated.

Because, no. You didn’t. Not even a little. The two of you felt so connected, like a missing piece had finally slotted into place.

Your eyes met his, and you shook your head.

"No. Never."

A smile tugged at his lips, and he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. "Good."

"But, um," you bit your lip, glancing towards the door. "I'm definitely never looking Elijah in the eye again."

Kol snorted, and the two of you dissolved into a fit of giggles, tangled in the sheets, the stress and fear of the last few days finally fading away.

Because you were safe, and Kol was safe, and that was all that mattered.

Everything else would just have to wait.

[feelslikepants]

I was writing something completely different, but there was a picture of Illario with a beard and this came out instead. I have no excuses and I need none - he should have a beard all the time.

Pairing: Illario x Bellara, established relationship Rating: G

The door to his bathroom bangs open, handle slamming against the door hard enough that Illario is sure it's going to leave a dent on the wall. The bounce back nearly hits Bellara in the face, but she catches it and barges her way in.

"What are you doing?" Illario asks, annoyed.

Bellara attempts to grab the razor from his hand but she can't reach as he holds it above her, even with those cute little hops she tries. He assumed that when he heard her fling herself out of bed, it was because she woke up inspired and was rushing to pull something apart or fix something or leave more ink and paper notes strewn across his previously immaculately kept room. Not because she wanted to burst in on him when he was finally recovering from a contract and three long days of traveling.

"Trying to - just hang on, come on," Bellara says and wiggles her fingers as she stretches up, balancing on her toes.

"I have no idea what you want to accomplish here."

"To stop you from shaving."

"I can see that much," Illario says and swipes his free hand across several days of stubble. "But what I don't understand is why."

"Oh." Bellara plants her heels back on her floor and blinks up at him. "Because it's hot."

Despite his best efforts, she tells him that he's handsome often but without any special regard for what he's wearing or how he's styled himself. For the first growth of a beard to have inspired that reaction - he's not sure what to do with that.

He leans on his initial impulse to be offended, pitching his voice up haughtily as he declares, "I am always attractive, cara mia."

"Right, right," she agrees, and he feels a little outraged about her tone. "But this is extra hot. Can you keep it?"

Her face is open and eager and sincere, and Illario thinks this is how he ended up with his space and life invaded, no privacy to be found even in the bathroom apparently. Still, he hadn't known before how nice it is to have someone genuinely worried about his well-being, to being welcomed back with a kiss and warm body plastered to his back to help him sleep, and he thinks (privately) that some frustration is worth it.

"You want me to have a beard," he says flatly.

"I mean, if you don't mind?" Bellara suggests. She bounces a little in excitement, fingers curling in his nightshirt, then blurts out, "I found this new serial. The main love interest is this guy that seems like he has a dark past. We don't know what it is yet, but I have a couple of ideas I can tell you about later. Anyway, he's definitely the bad boy type, a little mean but in a flirty way - he kind of reminds me of you? Oh but the best part about this one is that they drew illustrations for it. I don't know why more stories don't have that! So there's a drawing of him, and he has a beard - it looks so good!"

"You want me to have a beard," he repeats slowly, "because a fictional character you like has a beard."

"Well, not when you say it like that." Bellara fidgets under his gaze and frowns, but she can't stop herself from trying again hopefully, "But also, you know, you look really hot like this."

Illario mutters out a curse, then sighs, "My cousin is the one with a beard, not me."

He doesn't realize how vulnerable that sounds until her expressions eases into understanding, and he has to clench his jaw to stop himself from clawing the words back. Instead of leaving him to shave after that though, Bellara takes the razor from his relaxed grip, gaze turning speculative.

"Lucanis doesn't have to have a beard though."

"And what does that mean? Just what are you planning in that devious little brain of yours, hm?"

"Nothing!" Bellara protests. "I just bet we could convince him to get rid of it if that helps. Or, you know, you can both have beards, and you can be the hotter Dellamorte with one."

"…Fine. We'll see how it goes. For now," he warns, but he doesn't think Bellara hears him over the sound of her cheering.

"Thanks!"

She drops the razor in the sink and tosses one arm around him eagerly as she pushes herself up on her toes to kiss him, the other hand stroking through the short hairs on his jaw with a happy noise that sits warm in his chest. He hasn't had a beard except for a month in his twenties he'd rather forget, but something neat and trim, he thinks, he can work with that, make that fashionable. And if his new facial hair encourages Bellara to throw herself at him half-naked in the mornings and squirm enticingly - well, that's just the price of being unbearably attractive, Illario supposes.

[cultofdixon]

Let me help, sunshine

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • Your anxiety toward your own self worth because of what’s happen to you, makes it hard to be a part of certain things. But he’s so in love with you that you never had to worry. • ANGST/SFW • TW: Injuries / Limping / Canon Violence

Requested by: Anon

It feels like a fever dream. The good.

Y/N stood outside the burning prison holding herself as she shook from the blasts that forced her out of the bed she almost died in. The force from the blast also knocked her on her side, resulting in injury…

She’s been limping trying to find another from her group, or really shelter for that matter.

This feels like the start of the outbreak all over again. Struggling to walk through the destroyed earth and being mistaken as the undead. One too many accidents happened because of such.

The Claimers found her alone before Daryl joined them, even before Rick killed one of their own. He didn’t know Y/N was a part of them because their paths never crossed, and then again Y/N wasn’t…free. She was controlled that entire time, even when Daryl ended up with them.

He was relieved to find her alive. Relieved on an astronomical level…but it wasn’t a happy reunion. The two of them…

Daryl tried to check on her when he first saw she was with them. But this Len or Lenny guy blocked his way and glared at the archer.

“She’s been claimed, buddy”

The archer of course didn’t know what that meant but given her tense posture and the injuries that looked fresh, this group was one of the messed up ones. Or at least this guy that said such.

Their leader explained the rules. Whatever you see that you want, you say “claimed” then no one can do anything about it. Daryl instantly questioned why it was used on a person and was met with obvious looks that made his skin crawl.

“He won’t do nothin’ around us.” Joe laughs leading the way and the group started to walk.

Daryl wasn’t going to leave her and didn’t want to fight anyone in case they’d inflict anything on Y/N. Because little does she know…

When this group started to move and Y/N slowly faded into the back of the group, Daryl looked to the one who “claimed” her and given he wasn’t forcing her back beside him. He took that as his chance to talk to her in hopes no one notices.

But before he got a word in—-

“I’m glad you’re alive” Y/N whispers to Daryl as both felt that reassuring warmth grow in their chest, relieved that the other is still standing.

“Are you okay?” He whispers as she didn’t say a word but shook her head. She looks like a wreck. “You understand this claim nonsense?”

“I know if I just touched your arm, I will meet the short end of that stick”

Daryl wanted to help her given she seemed to be having trouble walking. But this situation with the Claimers only escalated.

This Len guy that claimed her, wanted to get rid of Daryl and decided to use their rules against him. Though it backfired on the guy and the leader in a way, preferred Daryl in their group. But when Len met the other end of a bolt…that brought up an uncomfortable situation.

“Can we claim what was his?” One of the Claimers stated and Daryl instantly stepped in front of Y/N covering her.

“Claimed.” He states and glared at those who even had the thought, which was most of them. Joe laughs a bit to himself and to Daryl’s eagerness.

“She’s yours, man. Even if she is kind of a dud” Joe continued to laugh and every fiber of Daryl’s being wanted to snap him in half, but given she doesn’t have to worry about any of them laying a hand on her. He could check their injuries at the next break they take.

But the next break happened in the middle of a road…where they were met with those who killed one of their own…that happened to be their family. Daryl did his best to intervene, even Y/N.

Then of course, violence was the only answer there.

It happened fast.

Rick taking out Joe, Michonne going after the Claimer keeping her down and the two going for the one on Carl. Daryl took out one of the Claimers on him as Y/N took down the other on the archer.

But the remaining Claimer knocked Y/N onto the ground, pinning her and the painful scream that ripped out of her when he applied all his weight on her already bad leg…triggered Daryl to full on football tackle this man off of Y/N and boy did he meet his maker.

Daryl went to check on Y/N but she wasn’t letting anyone touch her in the moment. He kept a respectable distance when they recuperated for the night and Y/N held onto herself for most of her avoiding eye contact from everybody. She was really wishing they didn’t lose the prison in that moment. Then she wouldn’t have succumbed to all the pain from the illness to her leg causing a lot of discomfort.

“Have you been with this group since the fall of the prison?” Michonne asked Y/N as she shook her head struggling to catch up to her pace when they walked to this ‘Terminus’ place. “Did you see anyone when you woke up? From the illness…”

“I heard Glenn, but I wasn’t quick enough to getting out. He wasn’t there anymore when I got out so there’s hope that he’s still alive”

“And knowing Maggie, she’s probably lookin’ for him” Michonne reassures whatever ounce of anxiety courses in Y/N’s mind when it came to the living status of their family.

Daryl glances back every once in a while to check on Y/N, making sure she was still behind them. She was getting slower and slower the more they walked endlessly.

And that only got worse after Terminus, and after the hospital…

The group was walking endlessly to a shelter that they have no idea exists. Everyone followed Rick’s lead and didn’t question it, but everyone was exhausted. Depressed. Mourning. It was just too much to deal with. Every break they took felt like it wasn’t enough and Y/N didn’t want to share anything on her mind when it came to her physical well-being. Meaning every thought of “just another five minutes” got shoved down and she found herself dragging her injured leg to avoid limping and stepping on it at times causing the sharp pain to radiate.

Her family took notice of the times she end up in the back and those who didn’t want to face the pain they endured mentally, they would stick with her and talk about it. She couldn’t just walk away, not that she would either. It was difficult to push her pain aside, literally.

“Why is he always looking back here…” Y/N whispers, catching Carol’s attention to look ahead noticing Daryl checking on them every now and then.

“You are always at the back. He’s checking on you. Making sure you’re still with us” Hm…

“It’s just…the deadpan look” Y/N shivered slightly a bit tense. “He’s a bit intimidating…and mysterious. But he’s kinda been like that always…just a bit more protective ever since reuniting…”

Carol may not know about what happened from the prison to terminus regarding her friends. But she knew why Daryl would be protective of Y/N.

The walking became rougher the more their group grew tired and dehydrated…Y/N started to think about staying behind. Because the stops didn’t last long but she found herself taking a while to get back up. Least her wounds weren’t bleeding anymore. The bruises lingered. Main thing being the limp and swelling…

Daryl couldn’t help the anxious feeling he got when the group started to pick back up after they had a break to look around their surroundings for food and water. He checked the group around him and then to the back…

No Y/N.

He didn’t want to rile anybody up and make everyone freak out, so he did his usual check around the group until he got to the back and once no one was looking he started to track back. It didn’t take long for him to find Y/N still sitting at the last spot they took a break at, she just thought it would be easier on them if she disappeared.

“Daryl…” Y/N frowns watching him kneel down to her noticing how bad her leg was and mentally beating himself up for not taking care of it sooner. A lot happened, there wasn’t a big enough window to take care of it. “You shouldn’t be here”

“Oh yeah? And you should?” His anger spilled into his tone with a hint of regret. “Why didn’t yea holler for anyone? Or me?”

“Thought it be easier…” Daryl gave her that same deadpan look that made Y/N now sigh because of the situation. “For me to just. Not hold y’all back”

“That ain’t right. Ain’t right one bit” Daryl scoffs trying to help Y/N up but she smacked his hands away for a moment. “Y/N.”

“Daryl just go. Seriously.” She frowns. “I don’t want to hold anyone back. That’s why I just told a few of y’all that I’ll catch up…”

“But you weren’t. And yea didn’t even tell me that. Since yea knew I would argue…well I’m gonna fucking argue” He sets his crossbow down turning himself around and patting his shoulders for her arms.

Y/N was confused. Confused as to why he cared so much. But she complied as she was too exhausted to try and defend her point in any way. What even was there to defend? She didn’t want to be the burden that she currently was and didn’t want to hold the group back. Daryl got that but every fiber of his being would scream if she wasn’t with them.

The retired sheriff gained suspicion when both Daryl and Y/N weren’t around him. But when he turned toward the back he saw the two. Daryl carried Y/N on his back as she had his crossbow on hers. He sighed a bit relieved before continuing further.

All this walking…made the suspicion thing of water magically appearing, very appealing.

“You think it’s poisoned?” Carol questions Rick as he shrugs, still not trusting it though.

“Someone is watching us”

“So we shouldn’t trust it” Sasha states watching Eugene instantly go for a bottle and the moment he opened it, Abraham smacked it out of his hand. “Seriously?”

“What?! Someone has to test it for poison”

“Should’ve been me” Y/N scoffs. “I doubt imma last much longer on this leg”

“Stop.” Daryl couldn’t help but be upset by such as he blocked her from going over to it. Even if she wasn’t going to.

Then a miracle happened, or a coincidence, whichever you believe in…when the rain started to pour. Few started to open the bottles, empty them and fill it with the rain. Others enjoyed the downpour…and those who’ve lost took it all in

Y/N still kept close to Daryl, this time for warmth but she felt uneasy…nothing changed with the physical feeling but something pained her chest as she looks up at Daryl noticing the sadness that radiated from his blank expression. She took a chance by gently interlocking her fingers with his as he instantly brought his attention to their hands before looking at her.

“I’m gonna be okay, Dixon. I have you”

Her words struck him down, while the rain actually made her fall down from slipping. A small laugh was shared even if that drew more worry from Daryl’s end.

The two have been close and the time from the Claimers to the barn being told about this new place that they could call home brought them closer. Now the group was being evaluated to be helpful around the community, they took their chances with it. With caution of course.

“How’s your leg?” Maggie asks Y/N once she got settled on the couch, after being told to stay out by both Daryl and Rick.

“The surgeon guy they have said I won’t lose it but I have to stop walking on it”

“And yea better listen” Daryl was quick to add bringing himself to the window behind the couch sticking close. Maggie let out a small laugh to his response but she knew he cared for Y/N.

It’s been a day and a half with being in this new community and Daryl kept to himself for the most part. Sticking outside on the porch of Carol’s on the side that connects to Rick’s. He would look in the window every now and then to check on Y/N making sure she stayed put. She slept for the most part given she didn’t let herself sleep when with the Claimers and during the illness she was afraid to. Finally not dealing with any threat she thought it would be okay and she was being taken care of so nothing to worry about.

Reg, Deanna’s husband, made his way over to the Grimes’ residence when most of them were out and Daryl instantly shot up from the porch when he got to the steps.

“Heard y’all had someone with a bum leg. Thought I’d bring these over” He states pointing out the crutches in hand. “We found them a while ago but knew Pete didn’t want your person using them immediately.”

“Thanks.”

“You gonna give them to…?”

“Y/N.” Daryl brought himself to the Grimes side and took the crutches as Reg smiles in his direction when he didn’t return it back. “Her name is Y/N”

“She’s important to yea, huh? I can tell” Reg smiles with a laugh followed as Daryl felt a twitch of a smile that he did his best to hide.

“I uh. Better get these to her…”

“If you ever need anything, don’t be afraid to ask” Reg adds while taking his leave as Daryl watches him go to make sure he was gone before going inside the house.

The man always manages to sneak up on everybody, but to his surprise Y/N wasn’t asleep and gave him a smile the second he walked in.

“You shower yet?” She smirks listening to him scoff instantly. “Carol made me ask next time you came in to check in on me”

“You know I’ve been checking on yea?”

“You are sneaky, but not that sneaky” Y/N smiles bringing her legs off the couch patting the space next to her. Daryl approached at first because of the discomfort that grew on her face when she moved her leg, but then sat with her when she relaxed once more. “Those for me?”

“Nah they’re for me” Daryl jokes, a bad one, but it got a small laugh from Y/N. “The swelling down?”

“Yes. Not completely but enough to move around I guess…” She carefully brought her leg onto the coffee table showing Daryl as his worry poured out of him but in his own way. His eyes said everything. “Daryl, can I ask you something?”

“Mhm”

“Why…why were you so upset when I told you to leave me behind? I didn’t…if this place never came, I wouldn’t have wanted to be a burden to you all”

“And I can’t live in a world without you” Daryl without any hesitation admits a hidden feeling that Y/N, of course, didn’t connect that at all by everything he’s done. But it made sense…

“Daryl…”

“I wanted to go back in, when that son of a bitch attacked the prison…but Beth dragged me out. Tellin’ me you’re still alive. I believed her, but I was angry” Daryl frowns keeping his eyes onto his hands as he messes with a loose thread at the hem of his shirt. “I would’ve been angry forever if I let yea die in there…then those fuckers had yea. Hurt yea…and thank fuck they met their end, for ever laying a hand on you. But it just got worse and you were hurting the entire time that I just. I just needed to control one thing just for a moment…to keep you around…so I’d understand if yea don’t feel the same way or anythin’. But I’ll always do my best to keep yea around. For everybody, for myself, and for you.”

The immediate silence gave mixed signals to Daryl but before he could even have the thought of getting up and giving her space. Y/N gently brought her hand to his, letting him carefully take hers.

“I know you’re serious about your feelings…Im a bit…taken back…because I’ve never been a first choice or whatever. I’m not the best at explaining my feelings”

“Neither am I” His thumb rubs circles against her hand feeling her squeeze his hand while a soft giggle escapes her lips.

“Yeah, but at least you said something” Y/N smiles warmly. “Because let’s be real. Rick or Carol or Maggie—-literally anyone in our group. Would’ve probably had to lock us in a room together to get one of us to say something…if my anxiety of being locked in places didn’t kick in” he hums for a quick response taking in her words.

“I thought I scared yea. That’s why I didn’t say nothin’ sooner”

“Mm. You are intimidating, but I was more afraid of being rejected more than anything”

“So…”

“It’s mutual, Dixon” Y/N continues to smile leaning into his space pressing her lips against his cheek as his eyes closed to impact, and he found himself leaning toward her when she pulled away. “We’ll take it slow, Daryl. But to reassure you…I’m yours and no one will change my mind”

Daryl exhales finally letting that weight of possible rejection go as he turned entirely toward her releasing her hand and gently brushing the loose hair out of the way of her beautiful face. Admiring every feature for a moment.

“Will you let me finally help yea, sunshine?”

And so she did.

It took a few days to get used to walking without the help of crutches or her family hovering whenever they got the chance. Y/N was given a pantry job like Olivia which made it easier for Rick’s plans and Daryl got close with Aaron so he’s been planning a run with him while also building a bike. Which lifted his spirits when in this place, beside her of course.

“Hey!”

Daryl quickly turns to the voice after turning his bike on and tried to fight back the smile that succeeded in shinning through when Y/N made her way over to him without too much of a struggle.

“Hey…how’re yea feelin’?”

“Better. Going on a test run?”

“Yeah, ain’t letting yea on it until I know it won’t fling yea off without me knowing”

“So considerate” She laughs followed by a smile. “Be safe. Can’t have you limping”

“Mhm. I will…and even if shit happened, I know I’ve got yea”

[storiesbyjes2g]

3.238 Sleuths

Desiree was still playing with the dogs when I finished eating and showed no signs of letting them go. I was eager to speak with Sophia and get some clues about the missing parts of Dub's story, so I encourage Desi to go to bed early and rest up for her big day. Surprisingly, she did not protest and went upstairs. I gave her a moment to change before following her.

"Everything packed for school?" I asked.

"Yeah."

"Do you have your schedule?"

"It's right here. They emailed it."

"Good. Good. Don't forget to see the principal when you get there. Are you sure you don't want us to come?"

"I'll be fine, Daddy."

I sensed I was getting annoying, so I dropped it.

"Alright. Just checking. What do you want for breakfast?"

"Whatever is in the fridge is fine! You don't have to make a big thing out of it."

I put my arm around her.

"But I do."

"I love you, Des. You're gonna be great. Sleep well, okay?"

"Goodnight."

I went back downstairs and found Sophia waiting patiently in the kitchen.

"Is she okay?" she asked.

I snorted.

"You know she is. She said we don't have to make it a big thing. If I didn't know any better, I'd say she wanted to be rid of me."

"Silly. So, what's going on?"

The question un-paused all the previous questions I had before seeing about my daughter, and I was unsure of where to even begin. Hypotheticals always seemed to do the trick, so I tried one

"If I was a bad father, would you leave me?"

"What in the world are you talking about?" she asked.

"That's a real question. If Des grew up to be the brat of all brats, and it was my fault, would you kick me out?"

"Ummm..."

She thought about it for a long time, squinting her eyes and staring off into the corner of the room.

"I," she began. "Ruining my child would be quite hurtful, and I'd definitely be very angry with you for a while. Things may change between us, but..." She let out a long sigh. "I'm not sure I'd consider separation, though. At least not right away, maybe."

"Yeah. That's what I was thinking, too."

"Where is all this coming from?"

"Did Maia say anything to you when they were here? Like...problems they're having?"

"Problems? Not really. She mentioned some personal things, but nothing about their relationship. Honestly, it sounded like she was going through a midlife crisis. She mentioned struggling with her purpose and how to manage all her responsibilities while still being true to self."

"Hmph. That sounds very familiar."

"What's this about, Luca? What happened??"

I inhaled and let out a long, exasperated breath.

"She asked Dub to leave."

Sophia gasped.

"No! That's awful!"

"Yeah. I know he's not telling me everything, and I don't know what to think. It doesn't make sense! I just can't see her throwing him out because Tami is a brat. There has to be more."

"I agree. I remember you two talking about this."

"I knew you were listening!"

"How could I not! You were right there!"

"I'm just messing with you."

Thinking about my friend's disintegrating marriage was killing my vibe, so did a 180. We couldn't solve this in one night with the little information we had, so why continue talking about it?

"I have two very cool ideas," I said.

"Let's hear them!"

"Okay, first, Love Day is coming up, and I've been wanting to do a big family vacation ever since the kids could walk. What if we rent a big house and spend the weekend in Sulani?"

"Okaaay, I like this plan, but what does it have to do with Love Day?"

"I'm thinking, we get Less to watch the kids while we go on a date Friday night. Then Saturday, I take the boys, and you and Less take the girls, and we can do the woohoo talks. After that, we can do whatever. Then, Sunday is Beach Cleanup Day, so you and I can take all the kids to the beach while Less does whatever she wants."

"Woohoo? Already??"

"I know. I'm not looking forward to it, but I just know Less is gonna make me talk to them, anyway. Plus, kids today are a lot more grown than we were. It's probably not too early."

"Yeah, you're right. What was the other idea?"

"Alright, I know we said we would save the lottery money for the kids, but I've been thinking about that a lot lately. A million simoleons is a TON of cash! Do we really want to give kids fresh from high school hundreds of thousands of dollars?"

"Well...when you put it that way, maybe we do need to rethink it."

"Exactly. We have a little bit of time to consider how to do it, but in the meantime, I think we deserve to enjoy our money, especially since we have more time. We can start with our house dilemma."

"I've been thinking about it, too. I'm guessing you have an idea?"

"We love both our houses, yet would prefer not to live here anymore. What if we renovated our other house and add some elements we like about this house? We could have the contractors work on it while we're away and move in when we're back."

"I think I like this plan. Tell me what you're thinking of doing."

"Well, for starters, we could..."

[farenmaddox]

saw the WIP challenge from @wanderingcas about posting a snippet from something you're working on and getting some motivation for it. I've gotten all in my head about my post-canon SPN fic and completely stalled out on it, so I thought I'd just... try this and see if it helps.

“You’re in heaven?” Sam speaks up, when Dean can’t seem to find any words.

“Oh. Yes. I suppose that would be news. To be fair, Jack having the power to bring me there was news to me.”

Dean is so, so fucking stupid. Obviously Jack came to get Cas, that would still be part of fixing all of the shit from before, not interfering in new stuff. Obviously Cas isn’t just suffering in the Empty for eternity, holy shit. It makes him so relieved that he kind of has to lean on one of the posts for a minute.

“Dean?” Cas asks, tensing up immediately.

“M’good,” he mumbles, waving him off. He just… needs to breathe.

Sam rushes in and pulls Cas into an absolutely crushing hug, saying, “Thanks for coming. Is… is Jack...?”

“He can’t visit without violating the rules. He asked me to say hello on his behalf, though.”

“Oh,” Sam says, deflating a little. “That’s okay. Glad you’re here, anyway. Are you, uh, do you have to go back right away? Does the interference thing include, you know, talking to us?”

“I’m not Jack. I am free to do as I wish,” Cas says.

“Man, it would be nice if you wished to help us get rid of some vamp bodies,” Dean mutters, because the enormity of what just happened is slamming into him like a truck, and he kind of wants to do the rest of this debrief somewhere that isn’t covered in his own blood, maybe after getting those kids home to their deeply traumatized mother.

Cas just looks at him for a long time, but that’s not new. Dean just looks back. He’s so, so tired and there’s work to do, and this is how they operate, right? Do the job until the job’s done, and then they do the celebrating. Cas knows that as well as anybody.

“Fine,” Cas says, short and clipped. And then the bodies are just gone, and so is the blood, from one blink to the next.

Dean chuckles in spite of himself. “You that eager to get to the part where you yell at me, ya big fuckin’ hypocrite?”

Read the rest (approx. 500 more words) under the cut

Cas flinches away from that, actually, and goes striding back out of the barn. “The children are hiding behind a large tree roughly fifteen yards that direction,” he says, waving vaguely. “I assume there wouldn’t be room in the car if you need to transport them, so I’ll meet you in town.”

Sam and Dean stare at each other.

“Jesus,” Dean mutters. “Well, it’s definitely Cas, huh?”

Sam’s face twitches. Dean’s twitches right back.

A few seconds later, they are fully busting-up, clutching-their-guts, howling-like-animals laughing. They collapse into each other’s arms, and yeah, there are a couple of tears thrown in there. Just like, a few. Because hell, Dean had been dying, literally and actually dying, and they had been having a fucking Moment, and it’s not that easy to shake off.

Eventually they get their shit together and find the boys, and they bring them to their mom, who is not great, but is obviously better for having her kids back. There’s a lot of crying going on when Sam and Dean retreat, but their job is done and the part with the tissues and trying to put lives back together doesn’t have anything to do with them.

Cas is waiting by the car when they come back out. Sam immediately rushes in and gives him another hug, the sap, saying, “Sorry, man, I just… it’s really good to see you.”

Cas gives him a huge smile and return hug. “You too, Sam,” he says.

“Let’s get this show on the road,” Dean says, already making for the driver’s seat. “I can’t wait to get out of this town.”

“Absolutely the fuck not,” Sam says immediately.

“What?”

“Dean, it’s a fourteen-hour drive to get home from here.”

“And?”

“And I’m not having this conversation in the car! And no, I’m not sitting in the world’s most uncomfortable silence for fourteen hours either! We’re taking our happy asses to a motel or something and finishing what we started in the barn, and it wouldn’t kill us to get some sleep, either.”

Dean stutters something that is trying to be a protest, but isn’t. Sam’s just scowling at him and still pitching a bitch-fit.

“And you’re talking to Cas, too, because you obviously need to!”

“Do I get a say in this?” Cas asks with his eyebrows raised.

“No!” Dean and Sam snap at him at the same time.

“The most recent person to do self-sacrificial bullshit in this family loses voting privileges until the next person screws up,” Dean adds. Cas opens his mouth, scowling, and Dean points a finger at him. “Just now in there does not count, because I did not fucking do that on purpose and you know it.”

Cas closes his mouth.

[angeart]

Howwwww did you angst the world tour?? 🎀

this question made me giggle so much oh i'm glad you asked :3c there was so much yummy grian angst in the hc world tour!

it's all about grian and his penchant for destruction. he doesn't even mean to! he's not trying to be pesky; quite the opposite. he's curious but restrained, trying to be good, trying to follow instructions. he's not malicious at all! he's just there to see what people were up to, open and friendly and curious, eager to look and learn and praise. not a bad intention in sight... and yet things seem to break wherever he goes. everything he touches goes wrong.

the guilt churns, acidic and overwhelming, and grian's miserable. why is he like this? he's trying so hard, why is this the only way he can ever be? why can't it stop?

spoilers for grian's world tour video below <3

plantie pointed out to me how, during the tour of scar's train, when grian got rid of scar's arrows—the glitched ones that doc put there—he was so desperate to point it out after scar just glossed over it. as if he wanted to show that he can do something good. he can be helpful, he can fix things instead of just breaking everything.

but then we have all the other things, right? grian can't escape it.

when he was with etho and the mushroom farm exploded, he sums it up in a wretched if confused apology: "i'm so sorry. the two times i tried to use it, i broke it :( and created a water source floating— which i don't know how it happened— and flung the TNT, which i really don't understand—"

they move on, but it's so clear it lingers.

etho isn't blaming him. he's amused and brushes it off and moves along, unbothered, but grian himself can't wrap his head around it. about that propensity to breaking things, even unintentionally. the way nothing is safe around him.

he tells etho: "i can't stop thinking about your mushroom farm. why does everything i touch break, in new and unexpected ways?"

(not to mention when etho's showing him frogger and grian plays, almost instantly etho goes: "uh-oh, the game's broken", with a little huff of laugh. it wasn't exactly tied to anything grian did, but still something i wanted to point out, since grian was there for it <3)

and then grian goes to zedaph, right?

the very first game zedaph shows him. the very first. grian plays the way he was told to, the way he was meant to, and— he breaks it.

zedaph just laughs and moves them on.

(just sprinkling in a side note that zedaph's furnace minigame also didn't seem to work the way it should've—)

by the time grian gets to pearl's, it's starting to be a pattern that's so clearly eating away at him, making him anxious. he doesn't want it to happen again!

and yet.

pearl invites him to play her wordle game, and grian mindlessly goes and pushes the wrong button trying to start it... instantly stepping away with a quiet groan of a dread-filled "...oh-" followed by: "i just— ruined it already."

there's something about the mood switch. the way he seems more restrained and tame, silently upset with himself, trying so hard not to mess things up further. questioning why this is happening again. why he can't stop making it happen.

he walks over to the reset game button and asks, carefully: "can i press reset? is it gonna hurt? 🥺👉👈"

pearl reassures him he can, with a sigh noting that it'll just take a while.

there's an almost hysteric laugh from grian, followed by an exasperated, upset scream. "everything i touch breaks! when i went to e— i broke etho's thing when i went to— not frogger, his— his mushroom farm i— it blew up."

"you blew up his mushroom farm?? how? what did you do?!"

"yeah, i— i broke zed's game, instantly, pretty much, it's—"

"oh my gosh :("

"sorry 🥺"

pearl is quick to reassure him, though. "well, luckily for you, this is— you doing that (pushing the wrong button) does not break the game. it's just, you now have to wait for it to reset."

she makes sure grian knows that he didn't mess up anything terribly here. he didn't break pearl's game. it's okay! it's fine!

and then grian right clicks to open the book, and instead makes bonemeal pop out of a composter.

i think at this point pearl is a little bit taken aback by how wrong everything really seems to be going around grian. she makes sure to say, "it's fine," again, just so grian won't start worrying about it all again. "you're clicking on everything that people do not usually click on today. but it's okay. it's still not broken! it's not broken, it's alright, it's okay— i've got failsaves for people like you."

it's so sweet how she really tries to soothe him— and yet she can't help but let out that last remark.

people like you.

those few words surely lodge in more than all the reassurances. they're like splinter, proving grian right.

eventually, he gets to skizz.

during the tour of skizz's base, skizz shows him a horse statue and starts talking about how he lost his first horse at an event that grian was also a part of. and grian's stomach instantly sinks.

he asks hushedly, a bit confused, trying to remember: "was i there?"

skizz laughs. "you were absolutely there, dude."

which leads grian to ask, uneasily: "did i do it?"

skizz waves his hands, quick to easily reassure that no! that's not it, grian didn't do it!

grian lets out an oh with such palpable relief, and goes on to explain about how, "i remember witnessing it, but sometimes it's hard to disentangle whether i did it or not. coz i tell you what, on this tour i've broken everyone's stuff."

nobody was upset with grian when things broke, but here he is, several hermits down, still unable to leave it to rest. because it's him. it's him who did all of that, somehow, and he didn't mean to, but it doesn't matter. it happened anyway.

and now he can't even tell what is and what isn't his fault anymore.

the guilt is deep rooted, leaving anxious assumptions and dark, jagged precipices. how much did he destroy? what else should he be feeling guilty about? how far does this go?

he keeps breaking things, and it's such a blur that he can no longer tell what is and what isn't his fault.

the tour continues, and he delves into skizz's pyramid. and it's just— it's just a tunnel to swim through. nothing to mess up, besides potentially dying to suffocation, right?

and yet you can hear skizz shrilly exclaim: "oh he's going to end up breaking something!!"

and, (plantie's words: ) grian hearing that and just wondering, is that all i'm good for? is that all i'm known for? is that all i am?

there's no room for doubt; not really. that is what grian does, all the time, whether he wants to or not. he breaks stuff. he just— he doesn't mean to. and this tour is one big show of how powerless he is against it. (how everyone expects it from him anyway.)

despite it all, grian perseveres, trying out skizz's game, stubbornly dedicated and trying to win. (to pass; to have something to be proud of, at least—) and he gets to the powdered snow section.

there, he jumps across to a pathway that he was meant to circle to through the snow instead.

it's not breaking anything, not really. not even the rules. it's not cheating! he's just— he just did something skizz did not expect, but that was entirely possible within the game's design, even if not intended. he exploited it to his advantage; a risky, tricky shortcut.

and yet skizz remarks with a laugh: "this is what grian does! he breaks games!"

no matter what grian does... is that all he'll ever be?

is that all they'll see?

he fails getting through skizz's game, is thanked for play-testing, praises it all, they talk it all away, and...

and then grian goes to tour mumbo's base.

and fails to even die properly to his llama—

and then mumbo shows him his archive machine, and instantly panicks when grian gets curious about it, begging him not to touch anything. and grian says: "your stomach just fell through didn't it?" and after mumbo's immediate agreement, he adds: "and rightfully so. coz, almost everything i've touched on this tour has broken."

there's not a sliver of surprise to mumbo's anxious rushed: "yeah, yeah yeah! please stop now." because, of course things have broken. of course what grian touches is bound to go wrong. of course—

and then mumbo very carefully tells grian what to do with the machine.

grian does as he's told.

mumbo looks up and pauses, a frown crossing his face as he takes it in. he notes that grian probably did it too fast—

(something went wrong)

(something broke)

mumbo says: "i can't believe you come along and every single thing in my base starts [going wrong/breaking/malfunctioning]"

and then grian mysteriously ends up with an extra book from mumbo's machine, much to mumbo's dismay. grian's confused, cogs spinning as he tries to figure out what did he mess up this time to result in this.

it's clear mumbo wants grian away from his machine. it's not safe. (grian isn't safe.)

"maybe just give that to me and maybe just step away from the contraption. and then— maybe just leave me to—"

grian's upset and bewildered voice cuts in: "i didn't do anything wrong this time :(("

he's trying so hard.

he's trying so hard to be good and do things right and not mess anything up.

(it isn't working.)

(it's never bound to work, is it?)

mumbo ushers him away, and ends up showing him another cool invention—an elevator. except the second mumbo hits the button, a creeper shows up and explodes it. (it's midday.) (it wasn't even meant to be there.)

this one isn't grian's fault at all, but with everything that's happened— well, it's easy enough to link it to grian's presence. like a bad luck omen.

apprehensively, grian asks if the elevator broke, and mumbo—a bit bewildered by the reality of it—says that no, it seems to still work. "amazingly," he tacks on, disbelieving.

grian's relieved. "ohh, i thought we were in big trouble there!"

besides himself, mumbo anxiously agrees: "augh. i was like, if every single creation that i show breaks in some fashion, i'm just gonna quit."

because this isn't normal. none of this is, least of all everything at once. it simply doesn't happen.

(not when grian isn't there, anyway.)

mumbo notes that he needs to work on his lighting, and grian nods wisely saying it's a perpetual issue, but the anxiety is digging its talons in now, unrelenting. (what else is going to go bad in grian's presence? what else will he mess up? what else will he break? why is he like this?)

another remark that comes after this is mumbo's nervous: "i've actually just built up the automatic sorter which does this—which you're not gonna touch. we're banned from touching any redstone contraptions!"

and what can grian do but oblige? (but he can at least look, right?)

but does it ever change anything?

does it matter?

-

at the end of the day, the others don't think too much about it.

they all say their part, pass their judgment, wave their hands, dismiss, move on. it doesn't keep them up at night.

... i think it might keep grian up at night.

a cacophonous collection of word snippets, aimed at him or woven around him, digging under his skin until it bleeds. a noose of inescapable fate, a tightening band around his chest that promises he can only ever be one thing:

a vessel for destruction.

it doesn't matter if he wants to be.

shackles and chains and a cosmic inevitability written into his skin, etched into his bones, tangled into his bloodstream. and an ever-rising guilt like stormy sea, far above his head now, drowning him.

(maybe he's not meant to be near other people and their things.)

(maybe he's not meant to touch games that were constructed with so much effort and love and passion poured into them.)

(maybe he shouldn't—)

==========

bonus screenshots from discord DMs (with extra sprinkles of hmtb mentions):

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==========

bonus hmtb quotes because i kept thinking about it:

He always destroys the things he loves most, after all.

and:

He destroyed everything he touched, and when there was nothing left, he destroyed the only remaining thing: himself.

-

[bitethedevil]

Living with The Devil You Know (Raphael x Tav): Chapter 15

Chapter: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen

Read this fic on AO3 (Link)

Fic Summary: Tav broke their agreement by handing the Crown of Karsus to Mystra instead of Raphael. Not only that, but she also robbed his house and killed his incubus. Raphael is patient and he is determined to get his revenge.

…Tav isn't too bothered. She will figure something out eventually. Until then she just has to find a way to live peacefully with a devil.

Chapter Summary: Raphael continues showing Tav his true colors. The 24 hours are coming to an end and Tav must soon make a hard decision, that only seems to grow more and more difficult, the more she learns.

(AN: You are in for a ride, my dudes. Also, I think we have two chapters left until this whole thing is wrapped up. Read the full notes on AO3 for more info)

WARNINGS: Gore, Blood, Abusive Behaviour, Mention of Death, Mention of Child Abuse, Mention of Child Death, Mention of Domestic Abuse, Torture

Raphael woke her up way too early for her liking. He let her eat breakfast before they went anywhere. She was quiet while she ate, trying to wake up and keep her eyes open, much to Raphael’s amusement. He had the servants bring her a strong cup of tea, which did help a little.

“Can you reveal what we are doing today?” she asked and sipped the tea. “Or is it going to be some kind of horrible surprise?”

“I can reveal what we are doing in a moment,” he said. “Though I will ask you to remember our agreement when I tell you. If you interfere, you will be sent back to Baldur’s Gate.”

She looked at him over the cup with tired eyes.

“Not sure I like the sound of that,” she sighed. “But fine…”

“We will meet a potential client of mine. Unlike the woman you met yesterday, this man is a noble, though he is just as desperate for my help.”

The mention of the woman they met the day before made her stomach churn. She would most likely already be dead. Her children would soon find her lifeless body in her bed and their lives would change forever. Tav had to push the thought aside. Though she was an adult when it happened, she clearly remembered the day that she became an orphan herself. It hurt too much to think about.

Raphael continued explaining.

“He is a lord who has lost his wife and his only heir. The other noble houses of Athkatla refuse to marry any of their daughters to him. Without a new wife and an heir, his house will perish.”

Tav nodded.

“There is some awful detail that I’m missing, I’m sure of it,” Tav said and narrowed her eyes at him.

“It is said that Lord Ophal beat his former young wife to death in a fit of rage,” Raphael explained with a smirk. “The same fate befell his son shortly after, who was only ten years old at the time. It is said the child cried after the death of its mother, as children do. Lord Ophal beat him regularly and had healers on hand for that reason, but it seems that he went one step too far due to his irritation at the child’s crying. Or so the rumors say.”

Tav’s jaw fell, and it felt as if she had been stabbed in the heart.

“And what will your role in all of this be?” she asked quietly, though she had already guessed the answer.

“To procure him a new wife, of course,” he answered casually. “I happen to know a few of the noble families in Athkatla, and if he does sign, I will pull a few strings to ensure that one of those families will happily hand over their young daughter to him.”

Tav was staring at the table in front of her with an empty stare.

“This is too personal to be a coincidence, Raphael,” she muttered. “Are you really so eager to get rid of me that you will make me watch as you help a bastard that is just like my father? He won’t stop. He’ll do the same to his new wife and children.”

“Indeed, he will,” he answered with a chuckle at her naïve statement. “But he won’t do so before he has handed me his soul, which is all that matters, really. I am not eager to get rid of you, I am simply showing you the reality of what I do and who I am.”

Tav went quiet again. She shook her head and breathed deeply.

“Will he suffer?” she asked. “When he dies, I mean.”

“Of course.”

She nodded. In a way it did not matter. This would have happened even if she was not there. It did not make it easier in any way and a part of her did hate Raphael for it in that moment. On the other hand, by Raphael doing this, the man would face certain suffering in his afterlife. A fate that might not be ensured if he did not sign the deal. Men like him deserved to suffer.

“Shall we go?” he asked and held out a hand to her.

She reluctantly took it.

They appeared in a large ornate room with a big table in the middle. At the end of it sat a heavyset man with a red face, stuffing his face with food the way that only people who have never lacked it do. He stopped chewing only for a moment to look up at Raphael and her. His eyes lingered at her.

“Lord Ophal,” Raphael greeted with a charming smile. “This is a business associate of mine. Please do not mind her.”

“Raphael,” the man greeted back. “Business associate, eh?”

The man licked his greasy lips as he looked her up and down. Raphael’s grip tightened around her waist.

“Good for you, devil,” Lord Ophal said with a laugh. “She is rather pretty, I suppose. Except for those scars on her face. Play a little rough with her, eh? I don’t blame you. The pretty ones are always the mouthiest.”

Tav took the deepest breath of her life to not throw a fireball at his face. She also knew that despite Raphael’s outward appearance of calm, he did not take kindly to the comment. She could feel it in the way his breathing changed and the way his grip tightened even more around her.

“I would advise you to remember who you are speaking to,” Raphael said with eerie calmness. “Let us focus on business.”

“Apologies Saer,” the man grunted and continued stuffing his face. “Did you find me a new wife?”

“There are a few potential candidates, to go through,” Raphael answered and sat down beside him.

The two men talked for a while. Her dislike for Lord Ophal only grew with the way he was talking about those young women as if they were objects for his amusement. It took everything for her to bite her tongue, and especially at the hungry looks the lord looked at her with every now and again.

In the end, the lord decided to sign the deal. Raphael was smiling like the cat that got the cream as he did.

“And from the moment that you are a married man, our deal is in effect,” Raphael explained.

“You are invited to the ceremony if you have the time, Saer,” Lord Ophal said with a bright smile. “You can bring your little woman there too, if you please.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, my lord Saer,” Raphael said and smiled widely.

Lord Ophal might not have detected the hint of a threat in his voice, but Tav did.

He snapped and they were back at the House of Hope.

“My apologies,” Raphael said, he was still calm but there were anger and disgust hiding just beneath the surface. “Had I known that the imbecile would disrespect you and I in such a manner, I would not have brought you. I will remember this little show of disrespect once I get my hands on his soul.”

Tav knew better than to speak to him when he was in a mood like that. The line was drawn at personal insults…not child murder, or wife killing, apparently. She sat down as she waited for the storm to pass. She thought as she watched him.

Raphael was enabling murderers and abusers, and that was still difficult to feel at peace with. On the other hand, they would also one day get what was coming to them, delivered to them in tenfold. The problem was that such was also the fate of desperate innocents, such as the mother she had met the day before.

There was a part of her that had a difficult time blaming Raphael alone though. These people had all made a choice. A horrible and unfair choice, but a choice regardless. Raphael had never forced anyone, and as he had said the day before: if he did not help them, then who would? Tav was not sure what to think.

Raphael eventually calmed down, though she could still feel that he was irritated. He took her hand to lead her somewhere. When she realized that he was leading her to the hatch that led down into Hope’s old cell, her blood ran cold. They were going to visit Cassius...

The room was dark and damp. She could only see the faint outline of something hanging in the middle of the room. Raphael led her by the hand to a chair. He sat down first and wrapped his arm around her waist to pull her to his lap. He ran his hand up and down her side in a comforting manner, though nothing about it was comforting. She felt like a lamb being calmed before slaughter.

When he lit up the room with a snap, the hand held her in a grip so that she could not run. She did feel like running when she saw him. Cassius was suspended in air by his Infernal chains. In contrary to when they saved Hope, the injuries that he had inflicted on Cassius were very apparent.

The chains had ripped up his arms, as it looked like he had been struggling to get free. There were wounds underneath the chains that flies buzzed around, eating at the dark rotten-looking flesh. He stared emptily at nothing in particular with his wide eyes. His mouth was open, but no screams came out, just wheezing. Blood was dripping in a steady stream from his mouth.

It was a horrifying sight. She instinctively looked away.

“You see, right here,” Raphael said calmly and put his free hand on her throat to feel for where her vocal cords would be. “When you speak, your vocal cords constrict to form sounds. Cassius’s are currently pried open by a very small and very sharp device. He is also experiencing his worst nightmares over and over again in his mind, more vividly than ever, while he cannot scream without injuring himself.”

Tav’s breathing had gotten faster, and she looked at Raphael’s face.

“I don’t want to see this,” she said quietly.

“But you will,” he answered with a smile. “We had a deal, did we not? Do you feel sorry for him? The man that almost got your friends and you killed.”

Tav didn’t answer. She could still hear Cassius’s wheezing breaths and she did not dare to look at his dead and empty stare again.

“I suppose feeling some sympathy is only natural,” Raphael mused. “You and him do have one thing in common, after all…”

Raphael put a hand behind her head and turned it to look at Cassius. She tried to turn away, but his grip did not allow it.

“Stop…please,” she pleaded.

Something was going on in Cassius’s mind that made him squirm in his chains. She saw him trying to pull his arms to himself and escape. She saw the flesh of his right arm rip as he pulled, and the bone was exposed underneath. His eyes were panicked, and the blood flowed faster from his mouth as he tried to scream. She closed her eyes.

“Open your eyes, or I will send you back,” Raphael said and placed his chin on her shoulder as he kept her close to him in his grip.

She had started to tear up, but she did as she was told.

“Good girl,” Raphael said. “As I said, the two of you have one thing in common. Cassius loved me too, the naïve boy. Were it not for his jealousy, none of us would be here at this moment.”

She could not tear her eyes from the way his arms were tearing at the chains. She could not imagine the level of fear one would have to experience to do so much damage to one’s own body just to escape.

“I humored him of course. He was a decent replacement for Haarlep for a while and I found his puppylike infatuation with me somewhat endearing. His main mistake was not getting out of the way once my interest in him faltered.”

Tav yelped as Cassius pulled one of his arms free. His hand fell to the floor, mostly degloved and only a stump of bone was left where his hand had been. He was choking on his own blood as he tried to scream, with the same empty panicked look in his eyes.

“He was stubborn, naïve, and so certain that if he only tried hard enough, he could make me love him back. A foolish endeavor, really.”

There was a flash of magic, and Cassius was back in his chains, healed and put together just enough that he would not die. Tav looked on in horror.

“Please stop—"

“Though you know all about foolish endeavors, don’t you, my sweet?” Raphael continued, ignoring her pleas. “The two of you are the same. The only difference is that I do love you, in my way, and I never cared much for poor Cassius. However, who can say for how long? My interests are ever fleeting and even when I might change my mind someday, you will still be mine.”

Tav began struggling against Raphael’s grip and there was no doubt that he could feel it. Instead of letting her go he simply tightened his grip and kissed her neck and shoulders lazily.

“You can ask Cassius how much loving me is truly worth then,” he whispered cruelly in her ear.

“Please…let this be over.”

Tav had seen many horrible things throughout her adventure, but never so up close and never had she been so unable to do anything about it. It was also different because it was someone, she knew who was getting tortured. She didn’t like Cassius, but he never deserved this. No one did.

“It will be over soon,” he said and rubbed the part of her neck that he was holding in a soothing motion. “Though I think it would only be fair that Cassius greets his guest himself.”

Raphael snapped and Cassius seemed to leave the trance he was in. His body went slack in relief. His head fell and his chin rested on his chest. He finally closed his eyes for a moment. He was breathing more normally now, and a whine left his lips, so Tav gathered that the device between his vocal cords had been removed.

“Look who came to see you,” Raphael called out to him. “A familiar face that isn’t mine for once.”

He flinched at Raphael’s voice. He slowly looked up. His expression reminded her of a scared animal that is expecting to get a beating. When his yellow eyes finally locked unto hers, they turned from fear to pure unadulterated hatred.

“You,” he said in a barely audible hoarse voice. “Of course it’s fucking you.”

Tav hesitantly opened her mouth to say something, but he cut her off.

“This is your fault…” he said with anger, his hoarse voice cracking. “You ruined my life…”

He was not wrong, though Tav had no other choice when it happened. She had handed the blame to him when Raphael had come home and confronted her and her friends. Cassius was to blame, but if she had known this would happen to him, she might have…

She wouldn’t have. She knew that was the truth. Had it happened now she would have done the same thing, though she loathed to admit it. She still felt pity and guilt when she looked at him.

He was just a young man, perhaps a few years younger than herself. The fool had had been in love with his patron, and he had done stupid things because of it. If that wasn’t something she could sympathize with, then what was?

“I’m…” Tav began. She knew there was no way any words could make up for it. “I’m so sorry.”

Cassius narrowed his tearful eyes at her in disgust. Raphael chuckled behind her.

“Are you now?” Raphael said. “Are you truly sorry that you saved your friends? Would you rather that it be you in his place?”

“I’m sorry about what you have done to him. I didn’t want this,” she said quietly. “You would not have treated me this way. Don’t act like you would.”

“No? Perhaps not,” Raphael purred in her ear. “Though I think you would be surprised the lengths I would go to when someone hurts my feelings. Did you think that it did not anger me that you wanted to leave? After everything I did for you. I was furious. I burned down half of the house in rage after you left.”

Tav had heard that from Korrilla too.

“I took out my frustrations on poor Cassius after. What he had done was no doubt stupid, but had the circumstances been different, I would not have punished him as severely as I have. Mistakes happen. The poor boy only tried to help, after all…I think I must have brought him back from the brink of death and healed him over a hundred times that night you left…”

Cassius was listening to what he was saying too. He was thrashing against his chains while he looked at Tav like a man with murder on his mind. There was nothing but hatred in his eyes.

“I’ll kill you if I ever get the chance,” Cassius said with gritted teeth. “I’LL KILL YOU LIKE I SHOULD HAVE DONE THE FIRST TIME YOU—”

Raphael snapped his fingers and Cassius went quiet and limp against his chains. Raphael finally let go of his grip around the back of her neck. She looked away immediately. She was shaking in his arms. When she looked up at him, she could see that he was enjoying the whole situation.

She was quiet. She had nothing to say to him. The whole room had turned quiet after he had put Cassius to sleep. She felt an emptiness in her chest. She felt sadness and anger at how everything had turned out. Most of all she felt exhausted, emotionally and physically after what she had just experienced.

“So,” Raphael said through the sudden quietness that had fallen upon the dungeon and brushed away a strand of her hair. “Will you want to scurry back to Baldur’s Gate immediately, or will you want to use the last couple of hours to consider your decision before you do? I suspect that this day has at the very least made you hesitate with your firm decision of staying. Am I wrong?”

Tav felt that familiar hatred of him boiling up inside herself again. Obviously for what he did, but also for how he was acting about this whole thing. How aloof he was. How little he seemed to care about everything, when she had seen with her own two eyes that he was capable of caring. She hated how that part of him was always hidden behind all his pride, his games, his bullshit…

That hatred made her see clearly for a moment. She had a realization. That was it. She knew exactly how Raphael worked: he played games. She was going to use her hatred for all it was worth.

“No,” she said coldly and wiped her tears. She could see something in his eyes change, just as she expected. “No, you might be right. I was too naïve to see it…You are an awful person. A monster who is incapable of love…And perhaps also undeserving of it.”

He was holding his perfect façade of calmness, but she could see the slight panic in his eyes. She was going off-script.

“Perhaps it was not only me who was in the right place before I took the stupid decision to come here,” she said with a bitter laugh. “Perhaps you were as well. Rotting in the Hells, alone, as you always have been, with your only company being the shadows that you look for over your shoulder…forever waiting for the next one of your kin to try to kill you, while you grasp for some semblance of control by playing with the lives of people like Cassius and I.”

His eyes narrowed at her when she got up from his lap to walk away.

“Even if I might not be able to love you, I always will pity you, Raphael,” she said quietly. “Now, I think I’d like some privacy to think before I make my decision.”

“As you wish,” he said curtly.

His short response surprised her. She had at least expected a clever retort. She threw him one last glance before making her way out of the dungeon. She caught him swallowing hard and averting his gaze to the floor when she looked at him. She knew that her words had an effect on him, though he did everything to hide it from her. She left him there and went upstairs.

He had detected no lies in what she was saying, because all of it was truth. Perhaps it was only convenient truths, in the same way that he himself liked to deceive people, but still truths. Although all of what she had said did not necessarily mean that she did not still love him.

Her realization had been correct, and she had just proven it: he was bluffing. He did not want her to leave, but he was trying to use her stubbornness against her. He had once done the same when he tried to convince her that it would be the end of the world as we knew it, if a certain orthon escaped the temple of Shar. She fell for it back then, but she would not fall for it now.

Raphael was not a stupid man by any means, but he was awfully predictable once someone had learned all his tricks. He wanted to show her the worst version of himself and then have the cruel victory of her still choosing him despite of it.

She truly was not sure what to do after everything she had seen, but she would be damned if her decision was going to be dependent on what he wanted her to do.

It would be her choice in the end, no matter what.

[sentientgolfball]

OOH THATS MY SPECIALTY U HAVE NOOOO IDEA

Aether, who's pack eventually welcomes him back with, seemingly, open arms. Who bring him back into the fold with so few issues. Just a little bit of hesitance, after a while.

But... He's waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for them to yank the rug out from under him. Hates how he feels - like they're just luring him to relax, so they can get their revenge.

He's scared. Hes on edge and tense and he hates it. This is what he wanted. He wanted to come home, but... Is this home, still? He loves them! He really, really does!!

At the same time.... He's picking up shifts at the infirmary more often. Longer hours, overtime. He's scared.

He's waiting for them to come after him, or maybe even realize they don't actually want him.

And maybe it never happens. Maybe he has a nervous breakdown, and that's what causes him to retire. He can't handle it anymore, mentally. Waiting for something that never comes. And he has to sit behind, retired for his own good, and watch a new quintessence ghoul be welcomed into the pack so eagerly. Take his place, his role in the band, in the pack, and realize maybe he's a self fulfilling prophecy. He was scared they'd get rid of him one day and have a shiny new ghoul instead, and now there is one.

And the calls are sparse. Tour is hard, he knows that, and even if Sunny stayed behind too, it .... Feels like they call her more than him. And when they do call him, they seem eager to chat about tour, about fans, about his replacement ghoul, and Aether's room tired to chime in often. Too tired to say he just wants to talk to them, instead of being talked at. That he wants to tell them about something he saw earlier, an update about the general gossip. Or that he just wants to lay in bed in silence, on call with them, and just know theyre on the other end of the line. So far away but right beside him in bed.

The same jealousy never rears its head. He's resigned to his fate. That he's surely going to be shuffled out of the pack, slowly but surely. Doesn't think he can confide in anyone.

Wants to talk to Omega about it, but .... But he's worried Omega might look at him wrongly again. Might take it as a sign that Aether's going to hurt someone again.

He's just tired. He misses his pack.

......

Or maybe the other shoe drops, hes silently retired from the band, his duties at the infirmary are slowly but surely eased. Initially he thinks it's because someone noticed he's been struggling a bit.

Well.... At least until he notices how everyone's starting to pull away again. How they aren't spending as much time with him, they aren't calling him when they're on tour as much, even Omegas keeping distant.

And then, one night when his call isn't picked up for the nth time, when he leaves a voicemail he isn't sure will be listened to. Just asking about tour, checking in, offering some gossip, maybe a teary ask of "what did I do wrong this time?" When there's a knock, and Omegas there and......

And Omegas in full uniform..... Mask and everything. And..... Oh. That's what this is. Asks to just make a call, one more call. Hoping it's picked up, when it isn't. Leaves another voicemail, tries to act normal, tries so hard to pretend he's not staring his mentor down with betrayal and hurt, says goodbye and I love you, and then hangs up and puts his phone down.

Follows Omega. Doesn't argue, doesn't plead his case, just follows him. He knows it's inevitable.

OHHH MY GOD THAT LAST LINE HIT A LITTLE DIFFERENT MOTH I CANT EVEN LIE WAHHHHH

[xxsycamore]

in your opinion, what would Napoleon think about Mc who waits till marriage to do the tra la la 👁️

Oh I'm sure he understands and respects her wish! It would be interesting to see how this gets brought up, if we have to judge by Chapter 20 of his main route (the first time they slept together) because he seemed eager to go all the way after a more passionate kiss or two. Of course, there would be signs, MC's body language... still, I imagine him being a little surprised if she were to stop him at that point! He listens to her carefully, with the same serious look in his eyes he always has in those moments, hands immediately retracting, gaze locked on hers - he makes it clear that he's respecting all she has to say. Once she informs him she plans to wait until marriage for this, he nods right away, not wanting to leave her hanging for an answer as she might look nervous sharing this, putting his hand on her arm, saying "Then we're going to wait." Then his head begins to fill with thoughts, he checks up with himself if he expected this from her maybe, out of his strong wish to understand her deeply. Then there's a flashing image of her in a wedding dress in his mind, and it sinks in that he straight up accepted that this IS going to happen, that THEY're going to wait for it. Then he will laugh at himself for it, because that's how helplessly in love he is with her - but I also feel like he'll be quick to correct himself, especially because this could be very early on in the relationship and he wouldn't want to appear possessive of her. But since I'm sure MC feels the same way as him in this scenario, she might have to laugh at him too, and maybe they both need it in order to get rid of the tension.

(mentions about sexual tension and arousal and bloodsucking under the cut)

Now. Would that mean that they necessarily keep their hands off each other? That depends entirely on MC's boundaries because Napoleon would be reassuring that he won't cross the lines she established. If she's up to making out, he's more than ready to do that. Now, in the game we see him say on multiple occasions "If you do that I won't be able to control myself" BUT I think he handles himself just alright. If he withdraws to warn that they're getting a little caught up into it, chances are he's talking about her and not himself. Not because he doesn't have a hard-on, oh no. It's pretty much a given at this point, he's probably told her not to worry about him (but they would stop earlier if it makes her uncomfortable of course). It's easy to go down that slope in the heat of the moment, so I also imagine him talking to her about it in a moment where their minds are completely free of arousal, just to establish if she wants him to control her like this, or he should be more lax with it. He doesn't want her to regret anything later on, if she feels like she revealed too much of herself to him (like needy sounds and faces, their bodies grinding through the clothes, hands getting too bold).

I think his self-control gets shaken only by one thing and that's bloodlust. If there's anything he won't be trusting himself with, that's drinking from her. Keeping the urge at bay is one thing, but if he actually drinks from her it's most likely happening when he's already pretty worked up, so he must refrain from it. He doesn't want to scare her with his neediness either. Does that mean no (more) bloodsucking until marriage? It probably does.

[meowo-owo]

Eyeless Jack and fem!reader!!

(I don't know how to finish this text, so if anyone is interested, let me know!:>)

//I am also open to your requests!!

(The reader was stolen by Eyeless Jack)

word count: 1380

(Y/N) slowly opened her bleary eyes, blinking to get rid of lingering stains from the traumatic event that brought her here. When her vision cleared, she saw dilapidated surroundings—rotting wooden walls, a rusty metal roof, and a damp earthen floor strewn with rotting leaves. The girl realized with growing horror that she was trapped in an abandoned hut, far from any help or chance of escape. The last thing (Y/N) remembered was the face of a masked stranger looming over her before everything went dark.

(Y/N) carefully sat up, her head throbbing and her body aching. She noticed the kidnapper sitting nearby, his dark silhouette hunched over something. The girl's heart beat faster as she demanded, - What the hell do you want from me? Why are you doing this?

The guy turned slowly, his mask glinting in the meager light coming through the cracked window. His voice was low and rumbling, tinged with a strange lisp from his extra tongues, - Funny, that's what I should have asked you. You're the one who constantly appears on my territory, attracting attention to yourself. It's getting harder to mind your own business when you're always screaming and running away, - his tone made it clear that the lady's lack of prudence was a real annoyance to him.

(Y/N) grinned, trying to sound bolder than they felt, - Is it your business? I think you're referring to your sick, twisted obsession. Stalking people, kidnapping them, perhaps something worse..., - the girl shuddered, not daring to voice her darkest fears aloud, - I did not ask to be allowed into your territory, as you put it. I was just trying to live my life until you decided to make me your fucking prey.

The stranger rose to his feet with a smooth, almost animal grace. He took a step toward (Y/N), his movements slow and deliberate, like a predator stalking cornered prey, - Yours always say that, right to the end. No one ever takes responsibility, does they? It's always someone's fault, - he tilted his masked head, studying the troublemaker with invisible eyes that seemed to pierce flesh and stare into the depths of the soul.

The girl crawled back until her back was against a rough wall, instinctively putting distance between herself and the oncoming monster.

The (Y/N) breath caught as the guy took another step forward, pushing them even further into the corner of the dilapidated hut. The eyeless man stopped, as if sensing the victim's frightened hesitation. For a long time, he just stood there, his masked face an impenetrable void that seemed to absorb the scant light.

Then, with a suddenness that made (Y/N) flinch, the kidnapper reached out and slowly removed the mask. The girl's eyes widened in shock and disbelief as the mask slipped off, revealing a face that was both frighteningly familiar and grotesquely changed.

The unfortunate woman recoiled, her voice breaking into a strangled cry, - Jack? This... is that you? What the hell happened to you? -(Y/N)'s head was spinning as she stared at the haggard, gray-skinned face of their long-lost medical college classmate. The last time she saw Jack, he was a bright-eyed and ambitious student eager to make his mark on the world. But the creature in front of her now had little in common with the Jack she had once known.

Jack's lips curved into a bitter smile, revealing alarmingly sharp teeth, - Are you surprised to see me, (Y/N)? - Or should I say, shocked by who I've become?, He came very close, his eyes-or rather, the empty sockets where his eyes used to be-fixed on the girl with such intensity that goosebumps ran down her skin.

Their mouths (Y/N) opened and closed, the words haunting them as they tried to digest this terrifying revelation, - I... I don't understand. You disappeared a year ago. They told me... They said you were missing, - she shuddered, remembering the dark whispers and hushed rumors that had been circulating around their college since Jack's disappearance.

The eyeless man let out a harsh, raspy laugh, - No, dear, I'm not far gone or dead. You could even say that I've been reborn, - he held out his hand, his sharp fingers hovering just inches from his face (Y/N), - But I'm afraid that my rebirth has had its price. A price that required certain ones... His voice dropped to a low, menacing growl that sent shivers down her spine.

She hesitated for a moment, fear and disgust warring with morbid curiosity. Finally, with trembling fingers, they cautiously reached for Jack's face, their hand hovering just a breath away from his skin. The guy was watching, almost imperceptibly motionless, his breathing slow and shallow under the mask.

The girl hesitantly touched Jack's cheek, the tips of their fingers lightly touched it. The texture of his skin was completely different from what she remembered (Y/N)-it was cold to the touch, with a slight stickiness that made her wrinkle her nose. She could feel the bones and tendons under her skin, too prominent and pronounced for a man his age.

As her fingers traced the contours of Jack's face, they couldn't help but marvel at the changes that had happened to him. His cheekbones became sharper, more pronounced, giving his face an emaciated, almost skeletal appearance. The hollows under his eyes were dark and hollow, like two pits of despair. And the skin itself... it was a sickly gray pallor, like the belly of a dead fish, devoid of any hint of warmth or vitality.

The touch (Y/N) lingered on the empty sockets where the guy's eyes had once been. She could feel the rough, wrinkled scar tissue surrounding the voids, evidence of the horrific injuries that had stolen his sight. A shudder ran through her body as she imagined the pain and horror Jack must have endured.

The eyeless one did not react to the girl's touch, except for a slight twitch of muscles. He stood motionless, allowing her to explore the changes on his face, as if challenging her to fully comprehend the extent of his transformation. The air between them was thick with a mixture of emotions-fear, disgust, but also a perverse sense of fascination and sadness for their long-lost friend.

- Jack, I'm so sorry..., - was all she could say.

The kidnapper's body tensed at her words, and his breath caught in his throat. He was silent for a long moment, the only sound was the distant dripping of water somewhere in the depths of the hut. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and rough, laced with a hidden current of barely contained emotions.

- "I'm sorry?", - Jack repeated with a note of bitter amusement in his voice, - Are you sorry, (Y/N)? How noble of you, - he leaned closer, his hot and fetid breath fanning the victim's face, carrying with it the unmistakable smell of blood and decay, - But apologies don't change anything, do they? They don't undo what has been done, and they don't bring back what has been lost.

Jack reached out, his clawed hand closing around the girl's wrist in a grip that was barely painful. His skin was cold, almost sticky, and she could feel the strength in his fingers, the way they trembled slightly with barely contained ferocity.

- I used to think that just apologizing was enough, - the Eyeless One continued, his voice dropping to a hunted whisper, - I used to think that my hard work, my dedication, would be enough to secure me a place at the top to communicate with someone close. But I was wrong, (Y/N). I was so wrong.

His grip tightened, his claws dug into the soft flesh until she felt the first sting of pain, - They threw me away, you know? They threw me away like a piece of trash, unworthy of their attention. They didn't even think to take pity on me, they only needed me for the sake of sacrifice.

He leaned back, finally releasing the girl's wrist, - You see, my dear (Y/N), your apologies mean nothing to me now. It's too little, too late, - Jack's voice was cold, flat, devoid of any hint of the man she once knew...

[cherryheairt]

Aemond pursed his lips, "of course. They must be keeping such things from you. Ever sheltered by Rhaenyra and Daemon on that rock, you remain."

How dare Aemond insinuate that Daemon and Rhaenyra hid the letters from Daenys? As if Alicent were an angel from heaven!

Years ago, she had sought a friend in Aemond, the one who shared in her torment. Now, she knew he was just like his mother, calculating and deceitful.

Thank God no one accepted the folly of Daenys marrying Aemond. That guy is too creepy, he would only have made Daenys suffer.

Daenys turned back to hide her expression from him, knowing if he saw it, he would think her uncouth.

Daenys is already eager to do things forbidden to those not married to Cregan. 🤭🤭😉😏

Daenys did, after all, comvince an ever-stubborn man of Stark blood to ride a dragon.

There are few things Cregan would deny Daenys.

Cregan watched on, admiring the glow the sun provided her skin It was afternoon already, they had spent almost all day outdoors.

A little more of seeing Daenys and Cregan's skin he would have told her to get married right away.

I've enjoyed the view all day.

Gods only know the crazy things Cregan was thinking of doing to Daenys while he saw her in her nightgown. 😉😏😏

"Daenys," he murmured lowly, brushing his thumb over the soft skin of her stomach.

Surely this is what some of Cregan's dreams looked like and made him smile on the way to the wall.

He blushed slightly, a tinging of red dusting his ears. "My accent, my looks, whatever they saw that seemed 'different'.

Cregan gives me tenderness. He was ashamed to tell Daenys that the southern ladies found him ugly for being from the north, for fear that she would think the same.

I got lost in the halls—which are much too big for one family, in my opinion—and stumbled upon the very princess that was missing.

Cregan and Daenys were destined to meet and fall in love. Cregan might have been the first person to see Daenys as a strange and angry girl.

I was scared that you might think of me the same way the other young ladies did.

Poor Cregan, to think he's going to marry the very girl he thought would find him ugly.

He squeezed her hand lightly. "You shall not be alone anymore, ever. If I have a say in it."

Daenys found a good husband, a protector, a best friend. She was luckier than Nyra, Rhaenys and even Aemma, Helaena and Alicent.

"Don't worry. I have never seen such perfection, my beautiful Daenys.

Cregan was probably in seventh heaven. He was with the girl he likes, alone in a room without being married, while she was changing clothes.

He's the one who got rid of Laenor. Manipulated Rhaenyra into sending the father of her four eldest children away. Daemon, alone, was the reason she mourned her father for years. Rhaenyra would never have done such a thing to her children if her uncle was not so cunning.

Daenys thinks too highly of her mother because of course, Nyra is her mother, but if Laenor left it was her own decision. If Daemon and Nyra supported him they must take responsibility for their decisions, but no one, not even Laenor, is innocent of everything, nor guilty of everything.

"Fine. Sit idly here as the council and I make moves to take back the throne. It is not like you'd be much use at Dragonstone, either." Daemon leaned forward in his seat, closer to the faces across from him before taking his leave to his chambers.

It must be sad for Daemon to know that Daenys is his biological daughter, but at the same time to know that she does not see him as her father, that Daenys has always seen him as an intruder in her family, a bad person, strange and not to be trusted.

Daenys could see Cregan start to race outside, barely dressed himself. He shouted after her only when she shouted her command. Daenys glanced back at him apologetically, knowing he would advise against such reckless actions.

Poor Cregan must have woken up disoriented and frightened with the news that his (almost) wife was frenetically in nightgown riding her dragon and going into battle.

She tried to ignore the helpless look on Cregan's face as she turned away.

Cregan sure didn't know what to feel. Whether to feel admiration for seeing Daenys go into battle unprepared or to feel heartbroken at seeing Daenys possibly go to her death in battle or to be angry that Daenys went into battle unprepared.

she saw Cregan climb her wing and reach out to hold Daenys' face in his hand. He wiped a spot of blood from her brow, frowning.

Cregan was worried sick about his dragon wife. Surely he was relieved to see Daenys return. The light returned to his life.

Will Cregan be mad that Daenys didn't come to him first? Left him, waiting for news of her death on dragonback?

Surely he didn't know what to feel. Cregan surely had a headache since he can't call Daenys his wife therefore people wouldn't understand if he would be sad if she died since they have been engaged for a short time and almost nobody knows it.

Daenys not wanting to seem thirsty for cregan, meanwhile he's getting the opposite idea and thinking she looked away because she was totally indifferent and he's like 🙁 i lost my touch (the winterfell ladies are DEFINITELY all over their Lord Stark) and maybe thinking she doesn't care for his looks, being a different standard of beauty from southern men.

They both want each other, but they don't know what to do because until they get married they can't act on those feelings and neither of them knows when or if they will be able to get married. Surely Cregan felt sad that Daenys wasn't looking at him, it must have brought back memories from his childhood that he wasn't handsome by southern girl standards. If Cregan knew that Daenys wanted more than to see his chest, he wouldn't think that.

Exactly! Alicent was their number one hater, then suddenly changed her mind when she thought she could manipulate Daenys into helping the Greens when war came. No, ma'am, she's her mama's girl.

Definitely wanted to add a part of Aemond and Daenys hesitating to fight each other, but remembered that after the Driftmark flashback she had only remembered him hatefully because of what he did to Luke. No hesitation anymore, even among old friends.

Though, Aemond did choose to simply 'throw' Morningstar instead of latch on to her neck like he did to Meleys.

As much as he wants to, Cregan can't deny his future lady wife, she's just too persuasive.

The scene at the lake- Cregan was thinking of having a shotgun wedding right there and then at Harrenhall, Simon officiating of course.

He hesitated to bring up his past insecurities he gained from the South, but trusted her enough to know she's too kind to think the same at the other young ladies.

A best friend!! Daenys got the pick of the litter, truly. Even though Rhaenyra eventually got her choice and Alicent was Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, both husbands sucked at the end of the day. (Daemon has good moments, but he's so obsessive and possessive, who chokes out their wife and makes them flinch with fear afterwards? Only someone who enjoys control) Rhaenys, too, who seemingly had the perfect relationship with Corlys, got cheated on who knows how many times.

In this chapter, Daemon truly becomes Daenys' scapegoat. Since he is the worst of all her parental figures, she can find it easy to villainize him and idolize Nyra and Laenor. She refuses to believe they allowed Laenor to leave so easily, so it MUST be Daemon's fault entirely. She is blindsiding herself without even realizing it, internalizing her hatred for Laenor abandoning her and using Daemon to blame. Why would her father leave her if not because he was made to? Of course he would never.

Poor girl is so confused and stuck in her own mind when it comes to her parents' complicated situations. Communication is key folks

Definitely, he was super conflicted seeing her leave like that without even telling him. Hell, she told Davos and Simon before him, without even knowing those men.

THE LIGHT RETURNED TO HIS LIFE 🤭🤭 omgg, I love that.

The longer she takes to tell him of her own feelings, the more Cregan starts to wonder if he's forcing her into something that she will resent. They have all these heartwarming moments together, then she still is silent in terms of words.

[psychicthepsychic-daily]

i'm not here 'cause you say so (my, oh my)

(Friday Night Funkin')

Words: 637

Summary:

Get your ass up 'cause I won't (I won't)

I must've missed the hype

But maybe that's the way I feel (that's the way I feel)

—“I Won’t” by AJR

In which Psychic has taken the fall, Dearest is disappointed, Boyfriend wants answers, and no one benefits from this family’s communication methods.

@/daily-acvoid once said "Psychic's tragedy is comedy to BF and vice versa" and I still think about that sometimes lol

Psyfic taglist: @y010isaghost, @s0methingmoonlit, @flurriethefox, @hoodiehydra

Let me know if you’d like to be added to/removed from the taglist!

----------

Heaving a deep sigh, his master's cold words still echoing in his mind, digging at his core, Psychic took a seat on the front steps of the mansion, next to the jasmine he'd planted so many years before. He put his head in his hands, waited for the disappointment and shame and frustration in his chest to simmer down.

It didn't work. Sensing a horribly familiar presence in front of him even after several minutes, Psychic glared up at Boyfriend’s grinning face. "Why are you still here."

Did the little blue imp get some sick entertainment out of watching him suffer? Was every tragedy Psychic endured somehow comedy to him?

"Does this mean we're friends now?"

Was he serious? Psychic fought back the anger bubbling up inside him. It would be so easy to permanently wipe that smirk off the kid’s face…

Unfortunately, he had stopped being that kind of person decades ago. "No."

Boyfriend slumped ever so slightly, a small triumph Psychic readily accepted after all that'd happened today. "But you finally think I'm worthy of her?"

"No." Not that Psychic was going to do anything about that.

"You like me more than Dearest?"

"Hell no."

"You like me?"

"No." Boyfriend's progressive deflation was admittedly funny to watch. "Don't count on that ever happening." And don't count on me to save you like this ever again, Psychic might have added if he didn’t know it was an empty promise.

"So why'd you take the fall?" Boyfriend demanded, pulling his blue hoodie tighter around himself against the chilly evening air. A full moon shone above, just like the first night Psychic had spent on Earth with Dearest.

It seemed to mock him. Time, a flat circle. Disappointment, inevitable.

"I didn't do it for you." Psychic narrowed his eyes.

"I get that, Afton. Why'd you do it anyway?"

Psychic had better things to do. He had no obligation to waste time on this...this disrespectful little...

Usurper, a tiny, scornful, jealous voice whispered in the back of his mind.

Psychic couldn't remember the last time his master had expressed any sort of disapproval towards him. Any disappointment. Being reprimanded had been rare enough even at its most frequent, and had only disappeared over time as Psychic softened up and became more eager to please. More eager for approval.

He hadn't intended to throw all Dearest's pride in him out the window tonight. It had just…happened. Psychic found himself doing things like this more and more often, as time passed and Boyfriend became increasingly comfortable shoving himself into the family where he didn’t belong.

It wasn’t entirely a choice, when Boyfriend was the only reason Girlfriend looked so much happier now.

Psychic had adamantly refused to get involved, when his master first came to him to get rid of the boy. If Girlfriend’s relationship with her father was ultimately going to crumble, Psychic didn’t want to be the reason it did.

How much did his actions tonight — defending Boyfriend, taking his side — reflect that? What did it look like to Dearest, who was supposed to be able to rely on him unconditionally? What counted as crossing the line? Was he willing to risk it? Did he care?

Psychic didn’t know what to do anymore.

“Hey.” Psychic snapped back to the present. A gentle breeze nipped at him, tugging at his jacket. What blue remained in the sky was quickly fading to black. Boyfriend was waving a hand in front of his face. “Psychic? You awake, dude? I asked—”

Psychic swatted it away. “Don’t call me that,” he said sharply, rising to his feet and striding back up the stairs to the front door. “We are not friends. We will never be friends. I hope you’ll remember that.”

“You didn’t even answer my—”

Psychic locked the door behind him.

[sebastianswallows]

Dangerous and Delightful — Chapter 28 — Sweet failures

— PAIRING: Sebastian Sallow x F!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: Sebastian is a purveyor of forbidden artefacts, a dark arts researcher, and a curse-breaker for hire. Ominis, desperate to save him from himself, hires Reader in secret to persuade him, by any means necessary, to leave his illegal activities behind.

— WARNINGS: None

— WORDCOUNT: 2.1k

— TAGLIST: @bloofinntoona @sarcasticpluviophile @estrotica

Sebastian tried to make their stay at the Gaunt mansion a peaceful one. He really did. He behaved himself, and put away his coffer of dark artefacts, and if someone were to visit they would never have suspected Sebastian to be involved in anything nefarious. And while his hosts were quite eager to play along and pretend all that was in the past for him, his companion was less than encouraging.

They had separate rooms, as was polite, albeit still closely connected. And every evening she was more than happy to retreat in hers, alone, and spend afternoons getting lost in the garden. While the Aurors still searched for Sebastian, it wasn’t considered safe for her to venture outside of the grounds, but she still found many ways to avoid him.

He didn’t know if this was how things were going to be between them, or if she was just skittish around other people. They were, after all, unmarried. And while her confession about her unusual birth seemed like a breakthrough between them, now it swirled in Sebastian’s mind as the explanation, and the augur, of many cold nights between them.

He was even considering giving her her wand back as a way to draw her in… He certainly had little else to offer.

Gazing at her during dinner seemed to go unnoticed, and approaching her with a drink afterwards always led to a refusal. They’d been there for three days, and Sebastian was already worried he’d either done or not done something that wilted away every hint of love he thought he’d hewn from her.

Even Ominis could see the awkwardness between them, which was only a testament to how badly Sebastian had failed.

“What did you do wrong now?” he asked, sitting next to his old friend with a calm smile on his face.

Sebastian sat before the fire, an empty glass beside him that had recently held Firewhisky.

“I wish I knew,” he sighed.

“What do you mean?” Ominis frowned. “Haven’t you had an, erm, awkward discussion to… you know…?”

“No, I don’t know,” said Sebastian, burying his face into his hands. “She’s hardly spoken to me these past couple of days. And I thought we… we had reached something together, but… I can only…”

Yes?” prompted Ominis, “what?”

“I can only think she sees the exit,” sighed Sebastian, “and is just waiting until she can be rid of me. And everything we’ve been through together doesn’t… doesn’t count.”

Ominis paused and took a sip of his drink, thinking to himself. The crackling of the logs filled the silence between them.

“I think you’ll find it’s quite the opposite,” he eventually said.

“Why?”

“She may not have spoken to you, but she did to me, and… well…”

“Yes?” pressed Sebastian, turning to face his friend. He didn’t know how to feel about her speaking about them to Ominis behind his back, but he was too intrigued to care. “Tell me.”

“I think it’s better if she does,” Ominis smiled. “She thinks she’s… well, failed in what she had set out to do. And I suppose she has, but, that might not matter to you. Find a way to speak to her. You have nothing to worry about, except for your own wounded pride.”

Sebastian frowned. It wasn’t like Ominis to be cryptic, and he hated hearing him speak like that, but he could not argue against the advice. It was, after all, what he’d wanted to do, but had not had the courage.

“You haven’t told her about my plans, have you?” he asked.

“Oh no. I… suppose I indicated to her that she has something to look forward to, but nothing beyond that.”

“Hmm…”

“She and Mrs. Gaunt spent some time in the drawing room after lunch. I don’t hear them anymore, so I suppose she went upstairs. Go and talk to her, Sebastian. Allow her to open herself up to you.”

Sebastian sighed, feeling like a skittish teenager again. He tried to brush his hair with his fingers and straighten up his shirt, and got up to his feet.

“I hope you’re right. …Mostly for my sake.”

Ominis laughed.

Sebastian left him to finish his drink by the fire as he went upstairs, each step more difficult than the other, and slowly approached her room.

He could hear her inside. She was pacing. Perhaps getting ready for bed… He knocked on her door so lightly she might not have even heard it, but to his dread, she did.

“Who’s there?”

“Me.”

“Ah… I… I’m almost ready for bed.”

“C-could I come in?”

Silence. He bit his lip and nearly stepped away, but then he heard her speak again.

“A-alright.”

He stepped in feeling like a thief, first keeping his head in, then looking around. She was hugging herself by the windows, a robe held tight around her shoulders over her nightgown.

“I won’t take long,” said Sebastian with a smile. He stepped in and closed the door behind him. “I’ve missed you…”

“I’m sure,” she muttered, but then seemed to regret her coldness and shook her head. “Sorry… I didn’t mean to trouble you.”

Sebastian swallowed the knot in his throat. “But you did,” he said, and slowly he stepped closer. His arms burned to hold her once again. “What’s wrong? What did I do? Just tell me and I —”

“It’s not about what you did,” she sighed.

He could see her holding words inside. He was quite familiar with the sight by now, after all. Step by step, he approached her, and once he was within reach he placed his hands upon her shoulders. It felt good to touch her.

“Whatever it is, tell me. I don’t intend to be upset with you. I just want to know.”

“Do you?” she chuckled, looking at the floor. “I suppose there’s no hiding it forever... Not under this roof, at least.”

He frowned. So she didn’t like the house?

“We won’t be here forever. In fact, I —”

She looked into his eyes, her gaze so tired and so sad it gave him pause. Something was eating away inside of her, and Sebastian realised it was not the best time to confess his plans to her.

“You tell me first,” he said. “What has you so weary?”

She bit her lip, and sighed, and felt so stiff beneath his hands that she might as well have been enchanted into a living statue. Sebastian rubbed his thumbs against her, and held back from pulling her fully against him the way he wanted to, the way he’d done so many nights before whether she wanted it or not.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be afraid to say it. You will hate me once you know… And then I will be free, just like I want.”

Sebastian swallowed hollowly, growing more terrified the longer this conversation went. He almost regretted starting it.

“I’d never hate you,” he quietly said. “No matter what you say. You could be working for the Aurors and I still wouldn’t hate you.”

She laughed, a delightful sound, if coming out a bit stiltedly. “Closer than you think,” she said. “But nothing quite so crude.”

Sebastian pulled her slightly closer and tucked his fingers underneath her chin. It took some effort to get her to look into his eyes, but he needed her to see it, see all the love and the forgiveness that was there for her.

“I have to know what is eating away at you so,” said Sebastian, his grip relaxing into a caress of her soft cheek. “Whether I like it or not, it shouldn’t concern you. But I can’t stand another day of you avoiding me, of you being afraid of me… Good grief, I liked it more when you made me bleed.”

She chuckled. “Oh, I bet you did.”

He smiled, encouraged by her reaction. “So tell me.”

“You wanted to know why I approached you,” she started, moving slowly down the path of her confession.”

“Yes, and you always refused to say.”

“Did you think it was in search of something selfish, like your Galleon?”

“I thought it was carnal craving due to my good looks.”

“No you didn’t.”

“Out with it, then,” he said, his breath freezing in his chest. “Why?” He wanted to ask who had put her up to it, but he couldn’t stand to think it. He felt ready to butcher whoever forced her to tangle with a dark wizard, even if it was him. All manner of suspects ran through his head while she worked up the courage to say it.

“Ominis.”

“What?”

“Ominis made me approach you. Made me lie to you. Made me —”

“Why?! How?!”

“Because he cares for you, you fool,” she sighed. “He wanted someone to draw you away from the dark arts, and, well —”

“Ominis put you up to… to…?”

“Oh no, the seduction was all me,” she said with a sad smile. “I think he had more faith in my abilities than was warranted.”

Sebastian held on to her now mostly so that he didn’t fall apart. He felt betrayed — by both of them — and sad to hear the confirmation that it was all a ruse, at least at the beginning, but mostly he wanted to understand what would drive good, plain, honest Ominis to do something like that — to him.

“I’d done something like that before,” she said, her hands extending softly to cup his elbows, holding him. “When I was at Hogwarts, a friend of mine, a nice of Ominis, got tangled in the dark arts, and…”

“And?” he urged, wanting to finish the whole mad story as quickly as possible, to finally feel the ground beneath his feet again.

“And because I’d willed myself away from them before, I could… help her quit them too. Ominis was quite fond of me for it. You know how he is about dark magic.”

“Yes…”

“Well, I suppose he thought I could be that for you. Your way out. Unfortunately, you take stronger skills of persuasion than a sixteen-year-old girl.”

Sebastian blinked, the room a fog around him. Only she was real, and her words floated around his mind in a maddening circle.

“He had good intentions,” she continued, holding him more firmly, coming close enough that he could feel her chest. “So did I, in a way. It just… went out of control.”

“Did it…?”

“I almost gave up a few times… Perhaps I should have.”

“No. No, it’s better that you didn’t,” said Sebastian, finally feeling like himself again.

“It’s no use anyway,” she sighed, letting go of him and pulling slowly away.

She sat on the bed, looking just as tired as before, just as drained, and quite dejected.

“I failed,” she said. “And all I managed to do is ruin life for both of us. It would’ve been better if I never accepted Ominis’… request.”

Sebastian walked toward her and let himself sit on the bed, his heart just slightly broken but mending itself as understanding came to him. He was and was not upset with Ominis. And with her.

“I shouldn’t be surprised, really,” he quietly said. “Ominis has never liked this passion of mine, and never even pretended to approve of it. I suppose I just never expected him to be so… so underhanded about it.”

“It was the only way he could think of. I truly believe that.”

“I believe it too,” he nodded. “Anyway… There’s nothing we can do about it now. What’s done is done.”

She sighed and sat quietly beside him, her hands limp on her lap and her shoulder bent as if still weighed down by everything that happened. Sebastian looked at her, and found that no part of him hated her, even now. If anything, he loved her more for it. She didn’t have to keep trying to change him, she could have just abandoned him and left him be… Beyond her cold and mangled heart, she had as much love inside her as he did. It just came out strangely.

He smiled and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close to his side. She followed, head falling on his shoulder, laying against him as if all her strength had left her.

“Well, you should not be too upset with yourself,” he chuckled. “I haven’t even touched my proscribed artefacts for —”

“For three days. Hardly a success.”

“Almost four days, in fact.”

She chuckled.

“And if you’re good,” he whispered, bringing his lips to her forehead for a kiss, “or at least better than you have been so far, my persistent liar, you’ll find I have plans to use them even less in the near future.”

“How so?” she asked, looking up at him.

“Ah, I said if you’re good,” he grinned weakly. “So you had better start right now.”

She frowned up at him. It seemed they both had a dislike of cryptic talking in common. Sebastian chuckled at that, and without another word leaned down to kiss her.

[inkmonster21]

Let Me In

Series Masterlist

Heath Ledger Joker x Fem!Batgirl!Reader

Warnings: Joker fluff, mentions of violence

Domesticated Dog

💚🃏💜

As you lay back in the bed with the Joker's head resting on your chest, you found yourself lost in the moment, your fingers gently playing with his hair. The Joker's eyes were half-closed, and his face was contented. He seemed uncharacteristically at peace, his usual frenzied energy subdued for the moment.

He nuzzled his face against your skin, his touch gentle and unhurried. It was a rare moment of vulnerability, a side of the Joker that few had ever witnessed.

He closed his eyes, savoring the sensation of your fingers running through his hair. His breath was slow and steady as if he was melting into the moment. It was a rare sight to see the Joker so unguarded, his usual manic energy replaced by a quieter, more subdued demeanor.

The uncertainty of the future weighed heavily on your mind. You were torn between the devotion you felt for the Joker and the fear of the chaos he might bring into your life. Would you be expected to join his world of anarchy and violence? The thought was both terrifying and thrilling.

The Joker's voice cut through your thoughts, his command simple but firm. "Stop." You were snapped out of your reverie and met his gaze, confused and slightly taken aback. "Stop what?" you asked.

The intensity in the Joker's gaze was palpable as he held your gaze, his words cutting through the air, “thinking.” His tone was commanding, leaving no room for argument. The Joker's lips traced a trail from your chest to your neck, leaving a searing path of kisses in their wake. His hand moved to your chin, gripping it firmly, tilting your face towards his.

You looked at him, curiosity piqued. “I can���t help it. I’m just curious," you spoke softly, your tone tinged with a hint of hesitation.

The Joker's attention was drawn back to your words, his expression a mixture of curiosity and anticipation. "About?" he asked, his voice tinged with a hint of mischief.

You ask curiously, “What exactly are you after? You robbed a bank, pissed off the mob, and now what? What's the plan?

The Joker chuckled softly at your question, his grip on your chin loosening slightly. "Ah, you're too eager to understand my vision. I don’t plan. I just do things. Chaos. I live for it." He leaned closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he continued in a hushed tone, "The mob, the money... they're just pawns in my game. I don't care about their cash or their power."

The Joker's eyes gleamed with a madness that was both captivating and terrifying. He seemed almost manic as he spoke, his voice filled with excitement and a twisted sense of purpose. "You see, darling, it's about the chaos. It's about creating anarchy and shaking things up."

You chew on your lower lip, mulling over the situation, "What about Batman?" you ask, concern evident in your voice. You didn't want to see either man hurt in this dangerous game.

A sly grin spread across the Joker's face as you mentioned Batman's name. "Ah, the Batman.”

The Joker's voice took on a more sinister tone, a hint of mockery as he continued, "He thinks he can bring order. But little does he know, he's just playing right into my hands. I’ll get rid of him the first chance I get.”

You could feel the tension in the air as you broached the topic. You hesitated, not wanting to ask but feeling compelled to do so, "And what about Batgirl?" you managed to say, concern lacing your words.

The Joker's expression darkened at the mention of Batgirl. "A nuisance, just like her mentor." He paused, his gaze narrowing as he looked at you, assessing your reaction. "Why do you ask?"

You struggled to put your thoughts into words, your mind racing with questions. You shrugged nonchalantly and tried to downplay it, “Just trying to see inside there,” you said, poking his head playfully.

The Joker chuckled as you playfully poked his head. "Curiosity killed the cat, doll." He took your hand in his and brought it to his lips, gently kissing your knuckles. "But here’s a little sneak peek for you: Batman and his little protégé will be dealt with sooner or later."

The atmosphere in the room seemed to shift as the Joker spoke about getting rid of Batman and his Batgirl. Your heart quickened, your mind racing with panicked thoughts. If he ever discovered you were Batgirl, would he see you as a loose end to be dealt with? You tried to hide your unease, but the Joker was perceptive. He noticed the tension in your body, the subtle change in your expression. A sly smirk played at the corner of his lips.

He gently grabbed your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. "You're tense," he said, his voice tinged with mock concern. "Is something bothering you?" He leaned closer, his thumb tracing over your bottom lip as if trying to reveal the secrets hidden behind your silence.

The Joker wrapped his arms around you, his touch possessive but gentle. He could sense your unease, your fear. "No need to worry," he murmured, his voice low in your ear. "no one is going to take you from me. No one else matters."

In that moment, as the Joker held you close, it felt as if the rest of the world faded away. The weight of your secret identity seemed less burdensome. There was only you and him, locked in a dangerous intoxicating embrace.

The bed shifted gently, rousing you from your peaceful slumber. As your eyes fluttered open, you noticed the absence of the Joker's warm body beside you. The sheets were cool, indicating that he had been gone for some time. The room was quiet, except for faint sounds coming from outside. Gotham City never truly slept.

Sitting up in the bed, you rubbed your tired eyes and yawned, wondering where the Joker had disappeared. He was an elusive creature, often disappearing into the night to carry out his chaotic deeds. Curiosity gnawing at you, you pushed back the covers and slid out of bed, your bare feet touching the cold floor.

Following the faint sound, you padded softly toward the master bathroom, your heart thumping with curiosity and anticipation. The door was slightly ajar, allowing a sliver of light to escape into the darkened bedroom. From within, you could hear the sound of running water.

Stepping closer, you pushed the door open just enough to peek inside. The Joker stood beneath the stream of hot water, his back towards the door. His lean muscular frame was on full display, water beading on his skin and running down his body in rivulets.

The Joker's voice cut through the sound of running water, an invitation that sent a shiver down your spine. He looked over his shoulder, his gaze meeting yours through the steam-filled bathroom. He gestured towards the shower, water cascading down his body. "Are you going to join me or not?”

You smiled and entered the bathroom, the warm air caressing your skin. The tiled space was filled with the scent of soap and steam, the water running over the Joker's body with a constant, soothing rhythm. He held out a hand, beckoning you closer. "Come here," he purred, his eyes roaming over your form.

You discarded your shirt, leaving it on the bathroom floor, and stepped into the large shower stall. The warm water enveloped you, cascading over your skin like a gentle caress.

The Joker's eyes roamed over your body as you approached, a mixture of desire and possessiveness in his gaze. He backed you against the cool tile wall, his wet chest pressing against yours.

Without the layers of makeup, the Joker's face appeared softer, vulnerable. It was the face you’d come to know and care for. The harsh angles and exaggerated expressions were replaced by a more human visage.

As you traced your fingers along the jagged edge of his scars, his skin was feverish, the flesh hot and tight. He closed his eyes, momentarily lost in the sensation. It was a rare moment of vulnerability for the Joker, his usual air of menace replaced by a quiet sort of intimacy.

You voice the question softly, “What do I call you now?” You wonder aloud, uncertain how to address him after everything that has happened.

The Joker's eyes fluttered open at your question, a hint of surprise in his gaze. He was used to being addressed by his notorious alias, the infamous villain known across Gotham. He paused for a moment, his hand coming to rest on your hip, his fingers gently tracing circles on your skin.

"What do you want to call me?" he replied, his voice low and steady. There was a hint of curiosity in his question as if he was testing the waters, exploring this new level of familiarity between you.

You take a leap of faith, "I’ll call you Joker for now, since that’s what everyone else does. But maybe one day, I could call you by your real name," your voice trails off, filled with a mixture of hope and trepidation.

There was a flicker of something in the Joker's eyes at your words, a mixture of surprise and a touch of sadness. No one knew his real name, not even his closest adversaries. He traced a finger along the line of your jaw. "One day," he replied softly, his voice tinged with a hint of vulnerability.

The Joker stood in front of the bathroom mirror, meticulously applying his makeup. It was a transformation, a persona he slipped into with ease. Gone was the vulnerable man beneath the scars, replaced by the infamous villain. You watched him silently, your gaze fixated on the Joker's every move. It was mesmerizing, the way he could so effortlessly slide into the role.

He caught your gaze in the mirror and a sly smile played on his lips, "Enjoying the show, darling?" he asked, his voice tinged with playful mockery.

You nodded, your gaze never leaving him. "I could watch it on repeat all day," you said quietly, enthralled by the intensity in his expression and mannerisms.

A flicker of satisfaction danced in the Joker's eyes as he continued to apply his makeup. He relished in your undivided attention, in knowing that he had you under his spell. He chuckled softly, "That much, huh?" There was a hint of arrogance in his tone, but beneath that, a quiet hunger for your admiration.

You move close, your lips tracing a path along his bicep to his shoulder. "You’re so handsome," you breathe, admiring his face.

The Joker's eyes darkened with a mix of desire and possessiveness as you kissed up his arm, your words of admiration sending a shiver down his spine. He loved your praise.

The Joker's gaze softened for a moment, a rare hint of sincerity visible through his half-done makeup. Your words hit a nerve, a crack in his carefully crafted persona. He chuckled lowly, tracing his fingers along your jawline. "No one sees me the way you do, doll," he said, his voice a hushed confession. "That's why you're special."

You couldn’t help but smile, planting a kiss on his unpainted cheek. "You’re special to me, Joker," you murmur, heartfelt sincerity behind your words.

Despite the layers of paint he wore, the Joker's cheeks flushed slightly at your words. It was a glimpse of the humanity beneath the insanity, the part of him that yearned for affection and connection. He tried to hide it, but he was affected by your sincerity. He pulled you closer, his grip on your hips possessive. "You've got me wrapped around your little finger," he murmured, his voice thick with desire and something else... vulnerability.

Your eyes gleam with mischief as you give him a sly smile. "I’m assuming this wasn’t part of your plan, was it?" you tease.

The Joker let out a soft chuckle, his lips grazing yours. "No, you weren't part of any plan." He was the mastermind, the architect of chaos, yet your presence in his life had caught him off guard. He cupped your face, his touch both tender and demanding. "You're an unexpected variable, darling. A beautiful, mesmerizing, and utterly maddening variable," he added, his gaze fixed on yours. He was captivated, addicted to the way you challenged him, pushed his boundaries, and stirred emotions he thought he had long discarded.

As the Joker dressed, the tailored clothing seemed to transform him further, accentuating his lean frame and highlighting his unique persona. It was a sight to behold—a perfect blend of elegance and madness.

As you reach the edge of the bed, an idea springs to mind. You look back at him, a playful smile on your face. "I have a fun idea," you suggest, your voice dripping with eagerness. "Maybe just stay inside, right here, with me."

The Joker paused momentarily, his fingers lingering on the buttons of his shirt. He turned to face you, a smirk played on his lips. "Ah, doll," he drawled, "as nice as your ceiling fan looks, there's a city out there that I need to burn to the ground ." He took a step towards you, his gaze roaming over your form on the edge of the bed. The look in his eyes was a mix of lust and reluctance.

You pause to consider his plans, your hands occupied with straightening his tie. Your eyes meet his as you ask, "And after? Will you be back?" The uncertainty of the future hangs heavy in the air.

Your touch on his tie sent a shiver down his spine. The Joker was used to control and power, but your simple gesture had a strangely soothing effect. He looked down at you, his gaze dark and intense. "Oh, I'll be back," he said, his voice low and confident. "I can't stay away from my favorite toy."

The Joker's words were possessive, a stark reminder that in his mind, you belonged to him. He took your chin in his hand, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. His kiss was possessive, a statement of ownership and desire. The Joker's lips were hot and demanding, his grip on you firm. He pulled you close, his body pressed against yours, claiming you in every sense of the word.

Without a word, the Joker pushed you away, a maniacal laugh escaping his lips. The room echoed with the sound of the door slamming shut, leaving you alone in the silence. The abruptness of his departure left you stunned, the memory of his possessive touch still lingering on your skin.

You were inexplicably drawn to the Joker, intoxicated by the danger, the intensity, and the twisted relationship that had ignited between you. Deep down, you knew the consequences of being involved with him, yet the pull was stronger than any logic or reason.

[mistressandry]

Expeditions and Expectations ⛺

———— Rook and Harding take their new friend Emmrich camping.

the most vanilla shit you've ever seen ⎮ 7k ⎮ AO3 link ————

Day 1

“Right…” Harding slapped the top of her rucksack to verify its integrity. “All ready to go?”

She turned around to see an eager, yet haphazardly packed Rook and far too clean Emmrich, fretting over last minute necessities with Manfred.

“Oh, but.. maybe I was too hasty in getting rid of the letter opener—”

“Emmrich.” Harding snapped, making his shoulders jolt up, caught trying his luck. “It’s two nights! Your letters can wait!”

“We also have like.. so many knives”, Rook chimed in an attempt to help. This tangent that didn’t actually address the overpacking issue at hand, but was much more interesting to her. “So many weapons in general! Axe, daggers. Bet we could even carve you a letter opener!” she continued, though she didn’t seem to expect a response.

Harding watched as Emmrich’s pristine posture deflated with embarrassment.

“I’m sorry, Harding. I just wanted to get this right! I’m so grateful and filled with excitement to ‘rough it up’ with you two in the great outdoors. But such activities aren't in my usual repertoire, and I’m afraid I might be foolishly trying to overcompensate for inexperience.”

Harding’s stern expression softened into a smile. At least he was aware of it!

“You’ve been too good at too many things for too long. It’s only natural for you to get a bit antsy.”

“Aren’t academics supposed to be comfortable with learning new things though?” Rook added, in her continued less-than-successful attempts to help.

Emmrich looked down at her in doe-eyed, devastated shock. “Oh, please don’t make this worse. Insights into my prideful failings as a scholar are not appreciated at this time.”

The two dwarven ladies immediately looked at each other with glee, unable to stifle a few giggles at the fancy man’s pathetic words. Everything was so promising. They couldn’t wait to see the professor so outside his usual areas of expertise.

Harding smiled up at him. “Oh, Emmrich.. it’s not that bad! You’re excited and that’s a good thing! I know it’s been a while, but you can handle being a novice for a few days.”

“If you want to experience camping, the Inquisitor’s top scout’s the one to do it with. No one can put a tent up as fast as Harding!” The other dwarf reassured him.

“Exactly! And Rook will probably be able to keep you alive while I’m away”.

Rook gave him a thumbs up and wink. It was a bit much, but the intention was there! Their efforts seemingly paid off as Emmrich gave in. “Perhaps I don’t have to do everything perfectly.” “Oh Maker, no.” Rook exclaimed, visibly terrified at the concept.

“That’s the spirit! But we're losing daylight. Can I trust you’re able to carry your bags?” Harding asked so kindly you could barely hear the smugness in her one-rucksack needing voice. That’s including the tent.

“Of course! I am nothing if not independent!” the professor asserted, only slightly struggling to take an assortment of gilded bags from Manfred. Though Emmrich was a bit rattled, Harding knew her new friend wasn’t going to let a little embarrassment keep him from new adventures.

“Manfred! Please make sure to accurately store all my correspondences. Keep track of your tasks in the itinerary and don’t get too rowdy!”

His ward hissed gleefully as he scurried off with the letter opener.

While Rook bent down to hoist up her things, she complimented Emmrich’s creative use of the side pockets on his rucksack.

“I brought a few field guides for our expedition!” Emmrich explained, “I’ve heard such lovely things about the local flora in the Frostback Mountains, and I thought to cross reference them to their Nevarran varieties.” “That’s cute! I’ve got a few books with me too. It’s been a while, but I could vaguely help you with plants in the area.”

“That would be most delightful!” He lit up clapping his hands together as he was one to do. Seemingly wary of their eyes on him, the giddy man gathered himself, announced he was ready, and began walking towards Harding and their exit. Rook patted down her pockets with a look of amusement. Emmrich was fun!

“Pretty, sure I’m good to go too!” Rook called out to Harding.

“Packed all the essentials?”

“Toilet paper? Yes.” 

“Then let’s move out!” The trio walked through the Lighthouse’s eluvian and into the Crossroads. Harding was used to Rook’s various loose tools creating a ruckus, but it paled in comparison to the cacophony of jingling coming from their newest colleague. Each step was scored by a symphony of metal singing and colliding with each other. “I’m never taking you two on a heist” she teased, which was met with shocked offense and excuses. “We could be SO stealthy if we wanted to!” Rook contested, defending herself and her fellow slander victim. That they had allerted more elven constructs than usual was apparently unrelated.

After an hour of travel, feigned indignation and a significant dent in their snack inventory, they reached their next destination. As they passed through the final eluvian and into the greenery of Ferelden, Harding asked Rook, “Just like old times?”

“Like we never left.”

After a moment of silence Rook hurriedly added:

“Alright, there might have been slightly less Blight back then.”

“Just a smidge.” ———— It was mid-day when they stepped out into the small and aged elven shrine, nestled in the cliffside just above the tree line of the Frostback Mountains. If Harding squinted and deluded herself enough, she could swear Lake Calenhad was on the horizon. The remnants of a descending path had eroded over the millennia, but were easily overcome by light stone shaping and gentlemanly hands offering support over the larger jumps. Having left their armour back at the Lighthouse, the trio were sprier than usual.

Rook looked particularly more lively as she jumped along a rocky outcrop, even though they had made it down to a comfortable game path. “You must feel light as anything without your armour and hammer,” Emmrich mused as a challenging leap had Rook furrowing her brow and sticking her tongue out for top-tier concentration. 

“You can say that again! Not to mention the weight of responsibilities. I’m off-duty!”.

“Hey!” Harding playfully exclaimed. “You’re not off that easy! You’ve got very important tasks.” “Yeah, yeah, but these are things I’d happily do anyway: Take care of the camp and keep Emmrich alive.”

“Please…”, Emmrich prayed looking up to the sky in desperation.

“We’re basically the hired help!” Rook added before jumping down with a hefty thud. ”Oh no, I sure hope we don’t have to do any whimsical exploring!”

Harding continued forward with a smile on her face. “Heaven forbid.”

They wandered some more looking for a place to set camp. Harding surveyed the topography and consulted her maps, Rook mined whacking enemies and dangerous trees with her axe, and Emmrich trailed behind, drenching himself in fresh air.

Nice as the Lighthouse was, it was refreshing to have reliable, non-floating ground under their feet. The next few days promised rest, reflection and levity. Even though Harding would have to work, this was still her home and her bedrock. A return to her basics, with friends old and new. She wanted to see Rook unwind and was desperate to see what “letting loose” looked like for Emmrich.

Harding’s bag hit the ground with a thud. “Perfect! This’ll do nicely.” Rook and Emmrich nodded in approval.

“Yep.” Rook affirmed. “Good trees. Great branch. Nice brook.” Rook helped Harding set up the tent. You could tell which knots were Rook’s and which were Harding’s. In between jabs, they kept eagerly glancing over at Emmrich as he reshuffled his essentials: Several sets of clothing, the infamous shaving kit, alchemical bowls, plant samples... He’d brought a lot but been surprisingly compact!

“How many books did you get him down to?” Rook whispered.

“Five!! I was quite proud of myself.”

They pulled at the ropes and gave the tarp a big thwack to finalise the tent. To account for their esteemed guest, they had even propped up a lean-to for.. pondering? The women weren’t quite sure, but it felt like the sort of a thing a senior necromancer would enjoy.

Their instincts proved correct, as he already started placing various knick knacks under it. Mysteries abound as to where he’d managed to store that quilted blanket.

The blanket made a comfortable place to sit as Harding passed around her pre-prepared sandwiches for lunch. Emmrich whipped out a teapot.

“This is really good!” Rook declared between scoffage. “It really is remarkable how a bit of jam can elevate the palette”.

Harding blushed but warmly welcomed her friends’ approval.

“I’ve got to start heading out soon. Didn’t note anything dangerous in the immediate area—”

”Aside from the bears?” Rook chimed in, careful not to let Emmrich see her grin.

“Oh, I only saw tracks for two or three of them around here.” Emmrich’s look of horror shifted into narrowed eyes and a slight frown.

“But beyond those very real concerns, we’ll be alright to conduct ourselves freely?” he grumbled.

“Yeah! You should be able to explore to your heart’s content.”

“Excellent!”

“Just try to keep screaming and fires to a minimum.” It was Rook’s turn to narrow her eyes and frown. “Fine..”

Harding unhooked a smaller kit from her rucksack and convened with Rook on the points of interest she’d be scoping out. Rook promised to save Harding some dinner and wished her luck.

“You’re quite sure she’ll be alright out there?” Emmrich asked Rook.

“Of course! She’s an expert scout and you’ve heard her.. Daughter of Titans.”

————

Warm sunlight dappled the mossy forest floor as Rook and Emmrich admired another flower for his collection. Rook tried to recall its name for her studious companion.

“Thaaat.. is a Lily of the Valley! No, shoot, it’s.. it’s closely related to it. Mostly grow on cliffs? Look it up in your book!”

Emmrich excitedly flipped through the pages, bangles jangling upon success. “Aha! I’ve found it! Solomon’s Seal.” 

“That’s the one! I’m not sure what medicinal uses it could have, but it is quite pretty.”

Emmrich carefully placed the flower in his designated plant sample satchel. Rook’s eyes roved the forest floor for the next hit of dopamine. She’d given him the pinecone with tiny mushrooms on it. Pointed out the very cool lichen formation on a boulder. Found some really interesting scat and explained what could be deduced from it. It was nice having someone enthusiastically involved in this part of her life. It was nice to bond outside of destruction. There!

“This one’s called… fox.. bread…” Fuck did she hate not remembering official terms in a field she was supposedly good in. At least Rook and Emmrich had settled into a solid groove with her giving hazy details on a specimen, and him finding it  in his field guides within two seconds.

“Something vaguely related to the words ‘fox’ and ‘bread’! Basically a clover but that’s not the important bit. Taste it!”

Emmrich smiled and didn’t waste a second taking the plant from her outstretched hand and placing it in his mouth. Rook munched on her own collection while staring intently, eager for his reaction. He regarded everything so genuinely.

“My! What a delightfully sharp flavour…”

“It’s something to do with the acids in it. Goes well in a salad!”  ———— The sky dimmed and the campfire crackled as a chill began to set.

Rook offered Emmrich some of her peppermint liquor. “It’ll keep you warm.”

She’d handed him many new things that day, and each was cheerfully accepted. Taking a swig from her flask, Emmrich began forming the words to thank his travelling companions for humoring him as a guest on this trip. “Rook, I wanted to thank you for being so accommodating.”

“Don't sweat it.” She interrupted before he went further. “This is much more for my benefit. I needed to get away from it all and Harding knew it.”

Emmrich raised his eyebrow in concern, returning the flask. He did not fill the silence, instead waiting for her to continue. Rook flicked at embers along the edge of the fire with her expertly sharpened stick. 

“Truth be told, approved leadership has avoided me all my life. I'm pretty sure Varric appointed me on a fluke. He would have given the same pep talk to any chump who happened to be about. Use his words to mold them into the person he needed. I just happened to be in the vicinity. Sometimes I wonder what I’m doing here. What I’m contributing..” 

He could not comment on the intentions of a fallen compatriot he’d never met, but her words sounded like the harsh internal thoughts of a heavy heart and a tired mind.

Continuing her monologue, she chuckled, ”But! even if I don’t believe in myself anymore, I'm not giving up my shot just yet.”

“When I left Redcliffe I thought I'd be able to make a name for myself. Influence our history. Uncover our past. A bit hard for a surfacer, obviously! Maker, the way my mom and her dad would talk about Orzammar.. It was hard not to want that connection. But what have I truly accomplished? Harding’s made more of an impact than I ever did. Stone save me, she spent years with Dagna and is on a last name basis with the Inquisitor. And now... Now this.”

Now this was a feeling Emmrich was well acquainted with. “I can empathise basing your value on external standards of accomplishment.” He revealed, careful not to share too many of his insecurities.

Rook smiled and looked at her flask. Silence set again.

“Did you know she can dream now..?” She said so quietly it was almost a whisper.

Over his decades of research on the Fade, he had wondered about the psychological impact caused by a race being completely disconnected from it. Learning that the lyrium dagger in their possession was the tool and that Solas was the perpetrator for this severance had certainly brought it top of mind again. Especially with the revelation that those severed Titan souls had morphed into the Blight. The prospect of reconnecting the tranquilized Titans with some kind of purified blight... Perhaps there were some papers he could revisit? Another day. Potential research and unsubstantiated promises were not what Rook needed right now. She needed a tether.

"You're not missing out on much. Mine are usually just about being chased by a faceless specter." Emmrich shared, attempting to make her feel less alone.

"Vorgoth?"

"Hush!" His bracelets jingling as he instinctively smacked her with a chuckle. 

Rook’s demeanour lightened as she poked at some charcoal. She looked over at him with a smile and a shrug. "I just need some time to get out of my head. Forget the task at hand and return to my foundations. I am more than happy with your added company!"

Emmrich was thrilled for verbal confirmation that he wasn't making a fool of himself out here. 

"Rook, your enthusiasm and care for others is infectious. I may preach the study of the unknown, but in my personal life I am a creature of habit held back by fears of external perceptions. I've travelled more around Thedas in the past month, than I have the past decade, gaining a treasure trove of experiences. I can not speak for the past intentions of others, but thus far your curiosity and compassion have been the best guide I could hope for. I think you've got what it takes."

Visibly flustered, Rook momentarily struggled to reply. "You’re a very kind man, but I have to wonder how much that liquor is sweetening your words!”

Emmrich scoffed at the deflection and implication. "I could drink you under the table.” Remembering the contents of his bags he happily added “However, I did bring some sherry should we run out."

————

The stars were out and their tent had long since blended into the dead of night. Harding discreetly opened the flap and slinked in without a sound.

“Boo!”

"Shitfuc—” Harding’s head flew up, narrowly managing to not bring the whole tent down. Heart recovering from the scare and eyes adjusting to the darkness, she could now see Rook sitting up wrapped in a blanket. Emmrich continued his slumber, apparently none the wiser.

“...Couldn't sleep?"

"Naah.” Rook replied at a more appropriate volume “Get into any trouble?"

"Not too badly! Blight's getting worse, but I managed to find an Avvar camp I can report to Cadash." The warmth of the tent and Harding’s friend were a welcome relief after the chill of the night. She’d been out longer than expected, but achieved results.

"One’s better than none! Left some now-cold stew by your roll."

"Thanks, Aldwir." Harding said, desperate for proper food, regardless of temperature.

"What kind of hired help would I be otherwise?" Rook teased.

As Harding slurped away at her meal, Rook caught her eye and nodded towards the sleeping professor's legs.

"... I miss Varric."

Harding giggled, reminiscing over the advantages of an all dwarf party.

"We did use to have decidedly more leg room with us three." “How was he?” Harding asked mid-chew, with some concern, but mostly just interest in Emmrich’s potential camping antics.

“He's like a very smart puppy. Kept me company. I showed him good rocks.”

“Highest caliber, I’m sure.”

“I’m not an animal.” Rook assured, laying her back on her mattress, while Harding finished her meal. Bowl emptied and discreetly placed at the end of the tent, Harding scooched over to Rook, gave her a kiss on the forehead before snuggling up in her sleeping bag. Rook let out a light-headed sigh. "Minrathous wasn't your fault, Rook."

"... Yeah..." Rook replied begrudgingly. Harding wasn’t convinced her friend believed it.

Emmrich shifted and muttered in his sleep.

"... He brought a nightgown." Rook revealed, in a familiar attempt to change the subject.

"He did not." Harding jeered.

"And a little hat."

Harding shot up to squint past Rook at their intrepid adventurer's night time attire.

————

Day 2

Emmrich emerged from the tent, arms outstretched mid-yawn. The pompom at the tip of his hat jolted at an unexpected greeting. 

“Goooood morning, Professor!”

“Harding!” He cheered, placing a delicate hand on his chest. “What a relief. I must admit, I was quite worried about you last night.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. Had a little hiccup, but nothing I couldn't handle. I’m not some delicate lace!” She giggled, amused by her own pun. Emmrich cheerfully accepted a bowl of porridge and cup of tea she’d prepared.

“It was witless of me to cast doubt on your abilities. I should know better by now.” he replied with a light smile, adding a spoonful of jam and a pinch of salt. They sat together and watched as the early morning sunlight slowly awoke the forest.

“Nice slippers.” Harding noted.

“Why thank you! I acquired them from a delightful travelling vendor a few years ago.” Delighted by the interest, Emmrich went into great detail explaining the lining. Harding seemed very amused by his storytelling as she sipped her tea.

“So what’s on the itinerary for you two today?” Harding asked.

“We’re going on a hike!” Emmrich identified the correct map, found their location after a few moments of squinting, and began tracing his fingers along their planned route. “Rook spotted a promising path that’d take us higher up this mountain. With any luck the terrain will allow us to meet with the river that flows down towards us. We’ll then follow along the waters, until we reach the riverbank just north of here.”

Emmrich was glad to receive Harding’s nods of approval, while she scraped the final spoonfuls of her porridge. She wished she could go as well, but still had a few more locations to report on. Laying the map flat to show the larger area, Harding showed Emmrich where she’d been yesterday.

“I don’t like what I’m seeing down this direction, but over here wasn’t as bad as we’d expected,” Harding detailed, circling general areas and showing some of her initial notes. Emmrich listened as she explained how yesterday would inform her route choices. She proudly showed the mage where she’d been able to use her new stone shaping magic to avoid long detours.

“It’s all quite fascinating, Harding.” Emmrich proclaimed, thankful for the insights she was sharing with him. His studies had not required the practical application of such things and now he found himself lacking. While he hated looking foolish at his age, he still loved to learn and was grateful for kind teachers.

“I’m glad you think so! When me and Rook were younger, we’d run away for days to explore these kinds of parts of Ferelden. After all the travelling trying to find Solas.. It’s nice to be home.”

Emmrich felt fortunate he had been trusted with such a meaningful location to his new friends. “This is a special place. There is a magic to the nature and serenity of it all. Different from the peace I might usually find at the Necropolis.”

“I haven’t found the likes of it anywhere else!” Harding shared, loudly inhaling the crisp air, before tilting her head with a caveat. “Arlathan Forest did come close, but the birch trees were a bit too creepy.”

They sat and listened to the early morning bird songs.

“Right! I’m off.” Harding said, abruptly picking herself up and packing up her document pouch.

“So soon? Should we wake Rook before your departure?”

“Don’t you dare, Volkarin!” Harding playfully warned, while shuffling her bow on to her back. “She needs the rest. And you, my junior scout, can update her on my route.”

“I shan’t let you down, Scout Harding.” Emmrich vowed, already refiling his mental notes for best recollection access upon Rook’s stirring.

“Good man! I’ll be back earlier this time, I promise.”

Emmrich changed into more appropriate clothes, placed his quilt on an even surface and began his morning exercises with relish. The peaceful setting melted away anxieties and fears that had previously denied him new experiences. ———— Rook and Emmrich made their way higher up the mountain following a winding path. Still below the treeline, they went at a slow pace. It wasn’t for lack of energy, but because the two kept being distracted by plants, rock formations, passing squirrels and the scenery.

A beautiful pine with a low tree fork was practically begging to be climbed, and Rook would not deny it. Hands covered in sap and sticking to the loose bark, she yelled down to her companion from several branches above: “When was the last time you climbed a tree?”

Rook could only imagine his expression as he indignantly replied. “I'm 55 years old!”

She sighed and looked out wistfully towards the horizon. “People should climb trees more often…”

Her contemplation was interrupted by a slightly judgemental probe from below.

“Is this a Ferelden thing?”

For someone so seemingly kind, Emmrich could be quite bitchy! Aghast, she dropped the matter and herself shortly after, though her knees didn’t care for the impact. Rook wiped the sap off on her trousers.

Maybe it was the rings? Rook had clocked that Emmrich had removed most of his jewellery, opting to carry them in a cushioned embroidered purse instead. She still wasn’t sure how a grave dowry works, but loved the romance of the ritual, and she definitely wouldn’t be the reason said dowry got scratched. As they trundled along she noticed his lighter outdoor attire revealed even more gold around his neck. The loose collar suited him. If the joys of tree climbing didn’t interest Emmrich, Rook would have to find another topic.

“So what do you think? Natural, Avvar, or Dwarven?” She asked after some consideration.

“The path? I was wondering the same! Perhaps it is a combination of the three? We’ve found no real markers other than our cultural knowledge of the area.” Emmrich energetically replied.

Rook delighted and continued, “There could be carvings further up? Depending on how high this goes. Those would be more likely to stand the test of time, even in harsher conditions.”

This came dangerously close to proposing an extension to their route and after consulting the prickling in her thighs, Rook decided: No. Better to speculate about the cultural origins of the ancient path without an increased incline. For now at least.

Their perfectly adequate high vantage point helped Rook identify the perfect location for coupling up with the river. Before beginning their descent, they sat on the edge of their moss covered cliff for lunch. Rook kept an eye out for harts along the water to point out to Emmrich. A couple of fallen trees almost had her fooled.

She settled for pointing out various birds.

Suddenly aggravated, Emmrich began to rave about a swallow that had refused to leave his study. Hands in the air he described in animated detail how this bird had “besieged” his sanctuary for days on end. While visibly worked up about the incident, he would smile whenever Rook laughed. It was nice seeing him like this.

————

The melting ice from the mountains now rushed down the river in a brilliant blue. Sandstone had melted like butter under its weight, while granite stood fast and bit back at its aggressor. Millions of pebbles littered the river bed, broken off and smoothed out by the rushing waters polishing them against their kin.

Rook tasked Emmrich and herself with finding five really good pebbles and then “comparing notes”. She had tenuously convinced him this was in fact a Dwarven thing. Emmrich took his task very seriously, selecting pastel colors in interesting shapes, and a strikingly black and white specimen.

He turned around to find Rook precariously balancing on a rocky offshoot.

“Surely that surface is far too slippery? That algae looks slick as anything! What if you fall and hurt yourself?”

"It's fiiiine." Rook insisted, taking another step. She immediately slipped and fell into the water, bashing her body into the rock.

“I have new findings”, she croaked.

Emmrich rushed over to help and scold her, though she maintained she was fine and laughed it off.

Once they got back to the camp, she was eager to show off her new underlayer.

“It's merino wool.” ———— Emmrich watched as Rook’s taut body split the firewood. There was an instinctive artistry in the motion. Her brow and shoulders crinkled up as she gathered momentum. The axe would fall with such a satisfying thunk, it didn’t really matter when she missed.

“It’s because of the angle of the stump, to be clear.” She’d explained, unsolicited. It probably didn’t do well to have mages witness error in her hand-eye coordination.

In all honesty, connecting the axe with the wooden logs was of secondary interest to him. Brutishly hitting it against anything looked beautiful. Emmrich had never been one for weapons, but there was something quintessential about an axe and the outdoor experience. It called for a rough sort, perhaps clad in plaidweave. It was not the sort of thing people would expect him to wield.

“Rook… would you allow me to have a go?”

Lost in determined thought, she looked stunned for only a second, before offering him the axe with a smile. While Rook and Harding seemed quick to make fun of their friends, he had learned a greater appreciation for the comfort this provided. They didn’t mock a person’s inexperience. They mocked the anxiety that comes with it. Turning it into a joke made it easier to overcome. After much study, he was pleased to confirm their badgering was thinly veiled affection.

Rook stood behind him and showed him the proper stance. His legs had to be properly apart, and the axe held just so. He controlled his posture very well, but his momentum had something to gain.

“You’ve got to really give it some! Dig deep! Find something infuriating inside you, channel it through to the hilt as you raise the axe, then…. Whack!” Rook giddily described. He furrowed his brow.

CRACK.

Filled with pride, they celebrated his firewood feat. Emmrich finished up the final lot, while Rook sat on the side sharpening her sticks, occasionally sharing words of encouragement as his technique improved.

Despite a few splinters, his hair being out of place, and getting sweaty, he found it exhilarating. Emmrich wiped the sweat off his brow and placed Rook’s axe carefully against the stump. “What a thrill.”

Rook looked up at him with a chuckle. Emmrich was too pleased with himself to worry about his appearance. Nearly. He straightened his tunic.

“It’s much more physical than our process for the veilfires of the Necropolis.” Emmrich continued.

“I know veilfire has lots of benefits, but I still love a proper fire, ya know? The color, the smell, the ritual of it all.. ”

“While the green glow will always make me feel at home, you do not need to convince me of the joys of ritual.” Emmrich looked at his books and Rook pondered her growing pile of sticks. His contemplation was interrupted by a tangent query.

“So, what was your go-to angry thought?”

Though he felt safe, Emmrich panicked about how much he dared reveal his insecurities. Insecurities about insecurities were like that.

“I… thought about how my fears have kept me from so many things I’ve desired.”

“Ooh, yes that’s a good one. Real tasty.”

Though occasionally stumbling, Rook had a validating way with words. If you spoke from the heart, she’d greet it like an old friend.

“What about you?” he wondered.

“Oh, Emmrich, what aren’t I mad about?” she laughed.

“Currently? I can’t get the fuck over the fact that the dagger I’ve been carrying at my side for months now, is the one Solas used to tranquilize the titans. This dagger euthanized an entire race ‒ MY race ‒ and that damage is barely considered as a footnote in its crimes.” She was trying to say it calmly, but Emmrich could hear the anger bubbling underneath. His gaze fell on the dagger, now shaped like a large gold bangle, attached to her belt even at this moment. It looked light, but dug into her side with the weight of much more.

“Ah. Yes. That is. Hm.” his usual talent with words evading him, as he wondered how awkward he must look standing here. Every response he tried to compile felt lacking.

“Yup.” Rook concluded, returning to her sticks and giving him an exit from the conversation. After a moment of reflection, Emmrich decided to sit next to her.

“I haven’t wanted to intrude, but I assume you and Harding have talked about—”

“NOPE.” Rook slashed deep into the wood.

“Or, I mean, she did. And she can’t find it within herself to be angry. These things. Apparently. Just. Happen.”

The stick was scarred beyond comprehension.

“May I?” Emmrich gently asked, gesturing at the dagger. Rook seemed surprised by the interest, but obliged, unhooking it off her belt. He turned the dagger over, examining it thoughtfully. He could feel Rook analyzing his every movement. He did not wish to trivialize any element of it.

“You’re not only carrying the tool for our demise, but the loss of your ancestors as well. The weight and pain must be immense.”

“So much was taken from us, and no one seems angry enough.” She sounded so fragile.

He thought he heard her whisper: “If I had just picked it up a bit earlier…”

He inspected the bright blue lyrium embedded in the dagger. The blood of titans was ripped out to mold physical bodies for the first elves, and when the elves could not calm their anger, titan blood was corrupted again into a weapon to kill them. Lyrium’s song must be a sad one.

Emmrich placed a sympathetic hand on Rook’s shoulder and heard a vulnerable thanks. With a loud exhale, Rook finished her final carving, got up and began picking up the scattered wood shavings.

“Sorry, Emmrich, I’m just not in a great head space right now. I’m struggling, but I’ll be alright.” He did believe Rook, but all the same he wished he could comfort her more.

“Would some more wood chopping help your mood?” He asked, looking up at her as he handed back the lyrium dagger. With just a hint of hesitation she laughed. “I think I’ve massacred enough wood for one day, but thank you for the care!”

“My door is always open, should you wish to talk, Rook. It doesn’t serve to hold these things in. I may specialize in speaking with the dead, but I do practice with the living as well.”

“Thanks, Volkarin. I might take you up on that.” She said and began gathering the fire wood.

Emmrich pondered Rook’s words and her habit of expressing emotions in short, powerful bursts. Her hair snagged on the logs as she picked them up. He didn’t realize he was staring, until Rook ushered him to look away. ———— Harding returned with a bright smile and a pouch full of dandelion leaves.

Given the company, dinner was unsurprisingly loaf-based. Sauteed mushrooms, garlic and onions over soft slices of bread, accompanied by wild herb salad flavoured with cheese, preserved radishes and roasted nuts.

The trio sat around the campfire laughing at nonsense like past misadventures and whether or not Emmrich could take on a bear. Harding filled out her reports, Emmrich sketched his plant finds, and Rook avoided slicing into her fingers with a carving knife.

A proven creature of habit, Emmrich brought his night-time routine outside to remain with good company. He emerged from the tent wearing his truly delightful cap, striped nightgown, and slippers, with a decanter of sherry and several intricately detailed boxes in tow. Out of respect for the professor and hopes he’d still appreciate their company after this trip, Rook and Harding tried their best to ignore all the ripe material in front of them. After the third step of his skincare regimen and several delicate sips of sherry, they finally broke.

Jab after jab had Rook gripping Harding’s thigh in a fit of wheezes.

“Are you sure you’re not in your 90’s?” Harding cackled.

“You two are insufferable.” Emmrich scoffed with a barely concealed smile. Seemingly undeterred by their antics, he carefully placed the last of his jewellery into their designated boxes.

“Sorry, Emmrich… it’s just all a bit too Emm-RICH for us.” “HA!” Rook shrieked, tightening her grip.

Emmrich rolled his eyes and grinned, massaging the joints of his now exposed hands with moisturizer. The ladies performed their comedy routine for the rest of his. The sherry helped.

Despite their fascinating topics, Emmrich was fast asleep before the other two. Though drunk on joy, Harding and Rook finally calmed down enough to wrap up the night.

"Get some sleep." Harding weakly grumbled, nuzzling her pillow.

"Yeah...... Sweet dreams." Rook replied, eyes closed and cozied up, eager for the embrace of some actual sleep. ———— It didn’t last. The night offered fleeting respite, as Rook found herself awake once again. Curled up, she fought the urge to toss and turn about, reasoning that stilling her body might still mind.

She watched Harding’s occasional twitches and tried to match her friend’s breathing.

Maybe if Rook matched the basics, everything could be different. Maybe she’d be better. Do better. Maybe whatever wasn’t good enough inside of her could be fixed. But Rook doesn’t twitch in her sleep. Shouldn’t lying still as stone make her closer to the titans? Maybe stone wasn’t meant to be still. Maybe there’s a reason sleeping dwarves are confused for the dead.

The silence of the night wasn’t kind. Her body overflowed with feelings of inadequacy and jealousy. Conflict electrified every inch of her skin. Her mind wouldn’t stop. Cut from the same stone, but her faults were too deep. A constant comparison she could never escape. Maybe Harding would have done this better.

A slim arm wrapped itself around Rook. Its slender fingers and wrist, naked without their usual adornments. The hair on the back of her neck stood up, as Emmrich muttered into it in his sleep. The heat from his breath did little to stop the chill down her spine. The knuckles of his other hand pressed against her back and his chest as he slowly filled his lungs. Warmth emitted from the soft fabric of his nightgown.

The moment was quiet and tender. Every muscle in her body stiffened in panic.

Rook inhaled sharply and found herself overwhelmed with notes of incense and clover from Emmrich’s perfume, closely followed by the sweet smell of sherry on his breath. Frozen in place, her mind raced to figure out what was happening. She couldn’t move — wouldn’t move. If she did, it might cause him to readjust his position again. Away from her. Why that mattered, she didn’t know. Hot blood rushed through her veins fighting the frost up and down her skin.

Asleep. He was definitely asleep. A quiet snoring escaped his lips.

The hand on Rook’s back gently wrapped itself around her hair. His other arm tightened around her waist. Stubble nuzzled against her neck. A richness overpowered her frantic mind and her heartbeat began to slow. At some point, she must have started matching his deep, calming breathing. It was comfortable in his arms. Safe. Quiet. Her eyelids grew heavier and heavier.

Just as Rook was on the cusp of sleep, Emmrich muttered something and turned over to his side of the tent again.

Eyes still closed, Rook chuckled. She might not be able to dream, but she could still imagine. She went to sleep with a smile on her face. ————

Day 3

Rook wasn’t sure why she didn’t mention anything over breakfast. Perhaps she was saving it for the perfect clapback at a later date. Perhaps she needed to figure out why she felt a bit embarrassed by it first. Deciding it was probably unimportant, she waved the worry away. What mattered was that she’d finally gotten a good night’s sleep and the fresh air of home was starting to light her soul.

The morning sun dappled a symphony of rustling alders, splashes on the riverbank and gleeful screams.

Harding and Rook fought for glory and dominance over the waters.

“Give up, Aldwir!”

“Not on your life!”

Stubborn, rested and in good spirits, both parties were destined to battle till the end of time. Water rose in the air, as if reaching for the snowy peaks they’d descended from. The Frostback Mountains might never recover from the carnage. The only witness tried desperately to ignore them, so he could concentrate on the task at hand. Shaving.

A well placed splash bashed Rook’s defenses, causing her to turn away from her competitor, laughter interrupted by sporadic choking. Her gaze landed on the old man trying to angle his reflection in the mirror he’d tenuously balanced on a large rock. His hair was still in a damp curl from bathing. His loose linen tunic clung to the lower part of his back. Rook stared blankly as he arched his neck preparing his blade.

She decided to consult her partner in crime. "Do you think we could do it again?" Harding shimmied over, a glint in her eye, piecing together the potential for mischief in record time. "Now, wouldn't that be fascinating?" Hands cupped around her mouth, Rook shouted "Oi, Emmrich!” The old man startled, and turned towards the silly women he’d been efficiently tuning out.

“You'd look very dignified and rugged if you grew a beard!" Harding hollered. The women turned to look at each other and nodded fervently.

“Varric got SO much more respect when he grew his out.”

“It’s true!” Harding giggled.

“It really is remarkable how a bit of a beard can elevate the face!” Rook loudly mused, still impressed they’d been able to pressure the old dwarf into growing hair somewhere other than his chest. Sure the respect had mostly been from them, but that still counts!

They watched as Emmrich sighed a heavy sigh and put down his razer. Victory, so soon? Or had he just grown tired of them already?

"You ladies jest, but truth be told, your words carry a great shame. You see, I tried growing a beard but a few years ago and it was… Patchy". He looked broken with the admission.

Rook and Harding gasped, not sure to what extent any of them were playing along or being deeply serious. The two women rushed through the water towards him, drenching Emmrich with consolation and affirmations.

“Moustaches are severely underrated forms of facial hair”, Rook began.

”It’s not just any man who could pull off a look like that!” Harding added.

If he had genuinely been upset by his subpar beard growing capabilities, being complimented for his moustache styling seemed to do the trick. Rook and Harding made a good team when it came to overwhelming others.

If he couldn’t grow a beard, the stubble wasn’t a bad look either. Rook felt it rather suited him.

“You’re both too kind”, a bemused Emmrich sheepishly smiled as he placed a hand on his chest. “Thank you for accepting me in my great shame.”

“That’s what expeditions are for”, Rook grinned. The fancy man really did have a way with words. ———— Campfire cleaned up and tent put away, Harding slapped the top of her of her perfectly organized rucksack, pleased with her results and grateful for the past few days.

“Right!” She proclaimed, calling for attention and hoisting her things on to her back. “Ready to go?”

She turned around to see a happy, yet haphazardly packed Rook and a slightly disheveled Emmrich, fretting over his plant samples.

As Harding had hoped, Rook seemed calmer and more confident. Her friend had a tendency to get in her head and… the voices weren’t always kind. The break seemed to have done her good.

As for Emmrich: he had definitely loosened up and behaved much more comfortably in their company now. He seemed to have really enjoyed his time experiencing new things with new friends. He’d even agreed to keep the stubble for a few more days.

It had been a good trip.

———————————————— Notes: That's it's that's the thing!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This was my first fic and first time writing something that wasn't a script or some quippy post, so it was mega spooky! The lovely and talented @bharv gave me so many tips and was ever so patient and kind. My other writer friend Frank also helped a ton, despite knowing nothing about the game. Tinttu has thus far only made it to Day 2, but has the very important task of helping me figure out wtf I need to tag this as when I finally get it on ao3!

I think writing is fun! Very scary, but fun! It is nice expressing myself in a new way! I hope you liked it!!!!!!! Please tell me you liked it!!!! I crave validation in such a pathetic level!!!!