#I’m the spare parts family member

[simplyghosting]

My family mocks my trash heap until they need my trash heap. Weep before my throne of broken wires.

[isuckatwritingsobenice]

Hii, this is my first time requesting and I wanted to know if you could do an Alastor x hard to get fem reader, who is somewhat stronger than him in the beginning, but as Alastor fights more overlords he gets stronger and tries to woo her into a relationship with him and she is just not having it. Maybe he goes as far as killing a member of the Goetia family to prove his strength but in turn makes the reader like panic and cast him away from her. Maybe Alastor wins her back by taking care of someone that’s been bother her than she doesn’t have time to deal with, like a stalker or something. I hope this wasn’t too much, I just really love your writing!

A/N: kiss your brain i love this so much!!! I love writing for Alastor and i’m so excited for the show to come out so this makes me extra excited!! I haven’t written in a little while so I apologize if this was a bit off, still getting into the swing of things! But I hope this was good!

Warnings: Obsessiveness, slight yandere!, murder, power trip, mentions of death, cannibalism, mentions of blood

Navigation!! // Masterlist!!

Hard to get

Meeting you wasn’t something Alastor thought would affect him as much as it did

You were different, but a different that scared him and he hated that

Your power and calmness together sent shivers down his spine, it gave him an adrenaline he had been craving and he didn’t even know it

After his fight with you he had fled, to hide away bask in your energy

He had gone as far as studying you from afar, watching the way you carried yourself and the way you went about your day

He would become stronger than you, to take you down but to also have you as his own; his bride

In his eyes you were a prize to be cherished, someone to love so dearly you wouldn’t need to lift a finger again

He had talked to you during a meeting with other overlords, after everyone was done cowering from his power

You were quiet, stoic and didn’t say much- hell you didn’t even spare him a glance

¨Hello dear!¨Alastor said calmly to you after the meeting.

You didn’t say anything, you just stared at him with a blank face, waiting for him to continue

¨May I help you?¨You asked, and he just grinned

¨Why yes you may! I couldn’t help but take notice to how awfully somber you looked all by your lonesome and felt it was my duty to accompany you.¨He said with a grin, leaning down to get a better look at your features.

¨I was actually doing quite fine before you came along thank you.¨You say, facing away from him and turning your nose up slightly. You clearly couldn’t be bothered to socialize with someone like him. His smile stretched painfully wide and he fought every urge to pull you to him right there.

¨Well I-¨

You cut him off

¨If you wouldn’t mind, the stench of blood is heavily present on you and I’d appreciate it if you cleaned yourself up properly and kindly left me alone. I’d hate to have a repeat of our first meeting.¨You said, side eyeing him.

He was stunned to say the least, and without another word, walked away from you, his dignity in shards at his feet.

You had really pushed him over this edge and a part of him was living for it but the other part really wanted to burn the entire city down.

Weeks went by and he was silent for a while, pondering over your words and what you had said. Clearly your standards were high, higher than him by far. He would have to play better.

He began taking his anger out on other overlords, claiming territory day by day and night by night. His carnage all over the radio, for you to hear. His subliminal message to you, that he was a changed man. Ready to be the man you needed him to be.

¨Please, whatever you want Ill give it to you, just please enough of this!¨ The overlord shrieked as Alastor rummaged through their belongings, his shadows making work of their lower ranked demons.

He stops when he sees a picture of you on their wall, a photo, where you were actually smiling.

Words couldn’t express how his dead heart felt, he was in such a state of shock he didn’t even remember killing the poor overlord. What a shame, and here he thought he could’ve asked some good questions about you.

He keeps the picture for himself, along with a file the overlord had made about you

Clearly you were smarter than you let on, because the file was made up of small things almost anyone could gather about you- poised, confident, but quiet

Alastor had made his way to where you resided, a large estate in a rural area, with a tower attached to the back of the building. It was gorgeous and seemingly had you written all over it.

Stepping onto the front grounds, he took notice to how the grass was withered and dead, but sharp black roses decorated the steps leading up to you’re front door. It was so elegant, so precise. So much so he had fallen in love all over again.

He hadn’t bothered to get flowers, knowing you would probably take them and kill them right in front of him.

Knocking on the door three times he waited quietly, hearing light footsteps make their way to the door.

A smaller, frail woman opened the door, and he smiled politely down at her.

¨Hello sir, I believe her majesty is not available right now. Though she expected your arrival. Would you care to come inside and wait for her with some hot tea?¨ The small woman asked.

Alastor just nodded and stepped inside, taking the interior in as best as he could, hoping to burn the image into his brain. The smaller woman led him through various halls, all elegantly decorated by your hand as she explained, before leading him to your study, a large library with a glass windows all around.

He took a seat, taking the liberty to put a record on, slowly humming to the jazz as he waited for your arrival.

Some time later you stepped in, Góetia prince in toe as you pulled a book from the higher shelves with your magic, handing it to the prince.

¨I believe this was all¨ was all you said. He nodded, the two of you giving Alastor a quick glance before shaking hands. The Goetia prince turned on his heel and left quickly, leaving you to deal with Alastor.

¨You have proven to be a constant thorn in my side.¨You sigh, sitting across from Alastor in your study. He just grins, finally happy to have some of your attention.

¨Well a thorn does belong on a rose, does it not?¨He asked, and you clicked your tongue.

¨Roses get their thorns cut off.¨You reply, still cold and monotone. There’s no expression on your face, and its then he takes in your appearance.

Dressed from head to toe in a long black dress that hugs you quite nicely. Your hair is done back, away from your face, making your features all the more present. You sit cross legged, and don’t say much else, waiting for a response.

¨Well that is also true.¨Alastor finally draws out. You hum, leaning back in your chair.

¨What it is you want from me?¨You ask finally, eyes shutting for a moment.

¨Well I-¨Alastor stops, the door opening to reveal the smaller woman again.

¨Excuse me your majesty, but the prince is back- and quite enraged.¨She said nervously, a loud crash coming from down the hall. You sigh, standing.

¨A moment please.¨You excuse yourself, leaving the study. The small woman stays inside, and Alastor decides to take this time to question her.

¨That prince, is he?¨Alastor asks, and the small woman shakes her head.

¨Goodness no, her majesty would never get with royalty. She’s trying to get away from that life.¨The small woman said. So the prince wasn’t your prince, that was for sure.

¨How long has she been down here?¨Alastor asks, knowing his arrival had been pretty recent.

¨twenty years. Died on March fifth, 1909.¨ The small woman said. ¨She was a child when she died, but thankfully to her power, she can continue to age as much as she wants here. Per her family’s request.¨ The woman said.

¨I hope you two are having fun gossiping.¨You said stepping back into the room, flicking a piece of glass off of your hand. Alastor sits up, now a bit more confident in talking to you.

¨Oh the most fun one could have.¨Alastor draws on, the small woman nodding to him as she steps out. You take your place back across from him, massaging your temples.

¨Lets get on with this shall we.¨You say, ¨I don’t know what you want from me. But let it be known I have felt you watching me, lurking as one would say. If you don’t want a detachment from your head to your torso I would politely suggest you leaving me alone.¨You say, your eyes sharper, but tone still calm. He could see the enragement behind your tone.

¨Why don’t we have dinner? I can explain much more than my dear.¨

¨Do not call me that.¨You say, and he laughs.

¨I will not be so easily swayed, unfortunately for you.¨He says grinning. He stands, tapping his staff on the ground to wake his radio up. ¨I do believe that my visit must be cut short. I have more sinners to erase!¨He grins happily, poofing himself out of the room and elsewhere thanks to his shadow.

You don’t hear from him for quite some time, and its almost comforting. He kept his distance at overlord meetings, even though fewer overlords were alive to be present thanks to him.

You had began getting small gifts, and seeing shadows whenever you turned corners. Almost like a mind game. Though you were sure it was him, you had more important things to tend too than his childish games.

It wasn’t until you had gotten home from the Goetia ball that you were face to face with him again.

In the foyer of your home, black tiles stained red, Alastor stood in the middle of the mess. The Goetia prince beheaded in your home.

¨What have you done?!¨You yelled, panic settling in. Alastor had worked so hard for this. A Goetia prince? Hell royalty was a new kill for him truly.

¨He wont bother you anymore my dear, of course I had hoped the mess would be cleaned by now but the fight he put up was quite time consuming.¨He said with a chuckle.

¨Alastor get out. Now.¨You said, and it was then he had froze. You were surrounded by an aura of black smoke, breathing heavy and eyes going full white. The room had began to get darker, and the doors behind you flung open, wind raging as he fought to keep his feet planted on the ground.

¨Cant we just-¨

¨I said- get, out.¨You said, swapping places with him in a blink of an eye, having his body pushed through your doorway with the wind, sending him into the forest far away from your home.

It had been ten years since then.

Alastor had felt defeated. He had tried all he could. Gifts, flowers, cleaning up your messes that you refused to admit were yours. Hed taken out such awful suitors who thought they had a chance with you.

It wasn’t until the next overlord meeting, when you didn’t show up, he had gotten worried. He knew he should’ve stayed away. But he just couldn’t. He hadn’t looked you in the eye for so long, but putting his own fear judgment aside, he decided to check up on you. Rosie, a friend he had acquired, had told him one visit wouldn’t hurt.

He found your doors wide open, the area eerily quiet, the dust coating your home entirely out of character for you. A man stood in your foyer, calling your name over and over frustrated.

¨ Please Y/n,talk to me! Anything!¨He said. The man was trying his hardest to get you to show yourself.

¨Excuse me.¨ Alastor said, and the man turned to look at him.

¨Who the fuck are you?¨ The man asked, and Alastor just smiled.

¨ Someone you’re going to wish you never met.¨ he said. The man doesn’t have time to react, his bones breaking on him, as he collapses on the floor with a loud shriek of pain. It draws out for a bit before the man finally dies, a slice to his chest shutting him up as he chokes on his own blood. Alastor hums as his shadows make quick work of cleaning the mess he made. He knew you hated your tiles stained.

¨Alastor?¨ You ask, standing at the top of the staircase. Your hair is down, still in the same dress Alastor had memorized so well. He smiles, his dead heart freezing over at the sight of you.

¨hello dear. Forgive me for my sudden intrusion. You weren’t at todays meeting and I thought to check up on you.¨He said, pulling a handkerchief from his coat pocket and wiping his hands with it. You walked down the steps slowly, taking in the shadows working on the now dead man on your floor.

¨ Did you do this?¨You asked, looking through the open door of your home. Your voice was softer than before. You looked a mess, but almost put together in a way. As if you were only slightly losing your mind.

¨Yes.¨He said, taking your hand and pulling you closer to him. He figured this was his last shot with you. Now that he had you here, he had to take advantage.

¨Mon cheri, I know you casted me away all those years ago. But I have you here now, and I cannot hold this will in my heart any longer without telling you.¨He said, his other hand turning your face to have you look at him. Your eyes were different this time, something he couldn’t read. But still, he kept on. ¨ I believe my love for you is strong in itself. I can protect you, you wont ever have to worry about some deadly sinner like this again. I know you didn’t believe I was capable of making you happy. But I must know now, if I am truly worthy of your love. I will do whatever it takes.¨ He said.

Your eyes were dark, with something he could only describe as pure lust. ¨Alastor please, you always were.¨You say with a smile. He had been so, immature before. But after years it seemed he changed, on the surface that was. Maybe you could give him a chance. Maybe he was worth coming out of the dark for a bit. Especially now, since he was stronger than you.

¨But, you must promise me something.¨ You say to him, and he nods quickly.

¨Of course.¨ He says. You grin at his willingness, and turn away from him, the mess he made now long gone.

¨Do not ever play me for a fool again.¨ You say. He stiffens and nods, hands as gently as possible reaching out for you.

He turns around around to face him, and almost jumps when he hears the doors to your home slam shut.

You don’t bat an eye, instead pulling him in by his tie and with a chuckle, eye his shadows as they snicker in a corner at the sight of the two of you. ¨ Dont worry, I know you wont.¨

Alastor just grinned, finally proud of himself. Not only had he gotten his power, no, he had gotten his hands on you as well.

[barefoothighlander]

Hi luv! Can you please do some headcanons of ghost having a civilian wife who is an absolute RAY of sunshine, but he keeps the fact that he’s married a secret even from 141. And when they do find out they’re just like??? How??? She’s like so cute???

yes ugh, soft!ghost has my heart, he'd be such a cutie obsessed with his wife, I love this, also obsessed with gossipy Soap and Gaz, they'd be so invested in Ghost's life

warnings: none just fluff

You and Simon had been married 3 years, meeting 5 years ago while he was on leave back home and you were visiting family

You bumped into him on accident after losing all sense of direction on a back street.

He was intrigued because most people are frightened by his outward appearance, but you just smiled at him apologizing profusely.

He had awkwardly asked for your number and you gave it to him, going on a few dates before he fell madly in love with you. Completely enamoured with your smile and personality, always giggling and happy, a stark contrast to how he usually was.

You made him see things in a softer light, constantly dragging him to farmer’s markets and gardens, he followed your every whim, just happy to spend time with you.

He had proposed a year after the two of you became official, deciding he couldn’t go another day without being married to you.

A week after the proposal he had to deploy, it broke his heart to leave you but it made him even more eager to come back to you.

You knew most of what his job consisted of, he spared you the more gory parts as they always made you squeamish. The two of you making it a rule to keep your relationship secret, even from the rest of the team.

After you married he made a point of calling you every day from base just to check in, even though he’d see you right as soon as he got home.

On a particularly difficult mission, Simon had gotten hit in the head, his helmet knocked off and thrown to the dirt, a small piece of paper falling out.

Soap rushed over to him to make sure he was okay, noticing the small paper and grabbing at it as Simon reached to tear it from his hands. It was a photo of you, hair messy from the wind, skin glowing from the sun outside, bright smile plastered on your face as you smiled at your husband behind the camera.

“Lt have’ya a lass,” Soap asked, dodging Ghost’s attempts to retrieve the photo. “Tell me and I’ll give it back”. Sick of Soaps games Ghost submits. “She’s my wife”

Word spread quickly through the team on behalf of Soap’s loudmouth, all the men rushing to question Ghost about his secret relationship.

“No shot you married her, she’s so.. Cute? Smiley? And you’re so” Gaz is cut off by Simon’s dark stare.

All the men pestered Ghost about meeting you as he continued to decline, Price offering a simple ‘congratulations son’

One day you came to base to drop off some gear that Simon forgot at home, immediately greeted by Soap. “No way” he says, stepping towards you with open arms, pulling you into a hug. You hug him back confused. “Sorry, have we met” “No but I’ve heard a lot about you lass”

Simon rushes out of the base practically tearing Soap off you, giving him a warning with a quiet stare as you tug on his jacket, reaching on your toes to lift his mask slightly, planting a kiss to his lips and smiling before handing him the bag of gear which he takes before running a hand softly over your back.

“This is so strange” Soap responds taken aback by the sight of you two, one tall and brooding, face covered by a skull mask and the other a practical ray of sunshine, wearing a long flowing dress that leaves the top of your chest open to the breeze.

“I will say, you’re much prettier in person, the picture doesn’t do justice” “That’ll do” Simon warns as you giggle.

Against Simon’s wishes you invite the team over for a dinner, the weather was too nice to not eat outside as you got to meet each member, learning more about them than Simon would ever tell you.

“I’m sorry it just makes no sense,” Gaz says as you quirk an eyebrow in question. “I just mean you’re so nice, and the Lieutenant is so daunting” you laugh, “trust me, he’s not so scary with the mask off,” He bows his head in embarrassment as you break down his strict facade.

“So what do you two even do? Gasp does Lt cuddle?” Soap asks almost giggling, Simon swears that he could kill Johnny right there. You spare a glance at your husband before meekly nodding in Soap’s direction as he and Gaz are taken in a fit of laughter, you shrug your shoulders in a silent sorry to Simon.

The team made it a tradition to now show up at your home at least once a week to have dinner and some drinks, or just play some board games, intent on getting to know you better, almost punishing Ghost for keeping you a secret.

Cleaning up dinner Simon slides behind you wrapping you in a hug, a small show of affection he had been holding off on while the team was in view. “You’re telling them too much” As he kisses the base of your neck, you turn your body to him, “It’s nice to get to know them, I like seeing you around your friends” he scoffs as the term, then thinks about it shit maybe we are friends.

The time spent after at work Simon was constantly pestered about when he’d make Price and Soap uncles while Gaz had proclaimed himself as your future child’s fairy godmother.

Simon grew tired of the constant interrogation but felt like a weight was off his chest finally being able to be open about your relationship, though he’d never let the team hear the pet names you call him in private, nor would he let them in on the more tender moments of your time spent together.

The team always telling him that he was nicer when you visited or called him, always nagging to see pictures of the two of you (there were barely any, maybe one where he didn't have his mask on but it was kept secure in the house), and wanting to know when you'd visit.

Ghost was relieved that the team was so nice to you, he'd kill them for even saying a bad word, but he wasn't surprised given your ability to get along with almost everyone, always stopping to say good morning to people on the streets.

They teased him for days after you dropped him off some lunch one time, he had acted angry but he loved the domesticity of your lives, he loved seeing you in his office, a bright figure in such a beige world, he couldn't help the smile that crept on his face at the mere thought of you.

So the two of you welcomed the team into your lives, enjoying the company after living rather solitary. Spilling secrets with Soap and Gaz as Price and Simon looked on, Price with a small smirk on his face, happy that Simon finally found the love he deserved, while Simon sat unamused at Soap's jokes.

[placeinthemiddleofnowhere]

Reign down on me - Part 8

Pairing: Ghost x Hybrid!reader (eventual poly!141)

No use of y/n or mention of gender/race

Summary: Reader is a wolf hybrid in a world that treats them like second class citizens, given a horrible start in life after being thrown into the military with no preparation. After years of struggle, they're finally taken away from their base by Ghost, now a permanent member of taskforce 141 reader struggles to come to terms with the fact that perhaps there's a life there for them - if only they reach out and accept it.

Warnings: hurt/comfort, Angst, abuse mentions, self doubt, violent scenes

A/N: So this is kind of a Part 1 of a whole chapter because i wanted to give you guys something. So the next chapter will have a bit more going on, hope you enjoy this for now! Excited for any comments or theories you guys have about what's going to happen 💕

-🐺-

The major opened the door slowly and then gently closed it shut behind him, sparing a quick glance at you before he walked over to Price’s desk with only a few long strides. He was a tall man with gleaming shoes and a pristine uniform to match, his red hair combed back neatly on top of his head. You took in everything, your breathing almost slowed to a stop while you waited for the news. Only when he sat down at the uncomfortable wooden chair in front of Price did he speak. 

“Before I start, I want to say that I know you’re a busy man and that your team are integral to many ongoing operations that are running. However,” the major paused, his accent thickly weaving his words. “After the incident outside your hallway with Second Lieutenant Smith, I’m afraid to say that I must ask you to carve out some time for me.”

Price laughed at that. Not a warm chuckle or a dark little rumble, like you were used to hearing over comms or during training. This was one of disbelief, the little glinting breaths coming through like warning shots. 

“I’d hardly call that an incident, Major. A silly boy decided to test my hybrid and got exactly what he deserved. There ain’t much more to it,” Price grunted.

He straightened his back and leaned over his table, appearing every bit as menacing as you imagined he could be. The way his eyes appeared to darken below his tilted heavy brow were enough to send even you gulping - and you were the one he was defending. The Major didn’t seem to react however, he wasn’t cowed by the show, he merely sniffed and set his own arms on the desk. 

“Ordinarily I’d agree with ye, Price, you know I would. That wasn’t just any boy though, his da’s some parliamentary arsehole and he wants atonement.”

That gave Price pause.

You sucked in a breath and dug your fingers into the couch cushions, feeling the fabric strain and almost give way under your claws. The shaking started seconds later. You were going to be punished after all. 

Who would do the whipping, you wondered, I don’t want it to be any of the boys, definitely not Ghost. A small whine escaped your throat at  the thought of that before you could cram it down. Ghost was supposed to be safe. The idea that he’d be the one looming over you and raining down pain on your back left your throat feeling crushingly tight. 

“You’re not laying a finger on my wolf, do you hear me?” Price said, his voice so low he might as well have growled at the Major. 

His. The way he said it was so possessive compared to the way you normally heard that, the way that Ghost usually said it. Ghost’s good Pup. His sweet thing. Price said that you were his with all the ferocity of a wild animal. Like something was threatening to drag you off into the unknown. 

“Look I’m not gonna bullshit you here. I tried insisting on something like committed service hours, guard duty or sniffing - that sort of thing. He wasn’t going for it. The problem isn’t so much with what the hybrid did - it’s your Lieutenant he wants to prove a point to most of all. He wants Ghost to know he can’t get away with insulting his family.” 

“So what? He wants Ghost punished?” Price snorted, tilting his chin up in challenge. “You gonna string him up to the post and all are ya?”

The major sighed deeply and rubbed his brow. 

“No ones getting strung up, don’t jump to conclusions. He said that he wants the hybrid locked down for a week, they’re to be placed with the Smith boy’s squad and kenneled, only to be removed should a mission arise where the hybrid’s presence is essential…now, before you go thinking that you can conjure up some kind of week long escapade, he explicitly stated the sentence is to pause while away and resume on return.”

I’d rather be whipped bloody, you thought. The exact thing you were afraid of was coming to fruition. You were to be stripped of what you’d come to love and return to your old way of life, worse still was the thought that you didn’t even know what the kennels were like in your new base, didn’t know if they could extend your stay which would often happen at Branhaven. There was every chance you could be stuck with that horrible bastard indefinitely. Ghost had made a point of letting you know that he never intended on punishing you like that, that you wouldn’t while away your hours in a dingy cell block, or be made to face a post ever again. 

The memory of him settling his hand on your shoulder and squeezing ever so gently as he explained his approach to discipline was so strong, you almost felt his spirit lingering there beside you. He’d said he wouldn’t ever put you out in the cold or whip you unless his hand was forced, and even then he insisted he’d fight whoever threatened you. 

Would he fight a major? A politician?

“This is bullshit,” Price scoffed, smacking his hand off his desk and making you jump. “Hobbling my team because his little brat got slapped around is pathetic! What next? Would he like to bend Ghost over while he’s at it? Really, Major, this is a farce.”

“It is, aye. Exactly what happens when you tangle with those sorts, you know that as well as anyone though.”

Price’s face was the dictionary definition of scorn. You shrank back into the sofa, subconsciously trying to become a part of it and escape from all the tension. The major didn’t even wince through it. He faced Price with all the stoicism of a tree on a calm day, but Price continued to rant and plead your case until you thought his red face might start to turn purple. All the while you listened with quick little bursts of scared breath. 

The conversation didn’t go anywhere except against a dead end, ramming over and over into the same conclusion. The major grew tired of Price’s fit and walked out, saying that he’d expect you checked into the kennel’s by the end of the night. He let the threat of what would happen, should he fail to comply, linger somewhere above you - like an anvil - in the air. 

Price growled out a profanity as the door slammed closed. Only when the air had settled and the Major’s presence fully left did he turn to you and soften. His eyes, that had held so much venom, melted from slits and into doleful pools, his taught mouth slackened.

“Pup…” He sighed, looking you over.

He didn’t finish the sentiment. There was a wordless understanding between you both that he didn’t have the vocabulary for the sympathies he wanted to convey. With that quiet look of apology given he sighed out and pressed his head into his palms. 

“Fuckin’ shower of cunts the lot of em.”

Price hadn’t immediately given up of course. He picked up his phone and got to talking to numerous sources, but apparently none of them were of any use. You flinched back from where you were perched every time he hung up his phone with a bang. It almost made you feel sorry for the thing. No matter what arguments were made, no one was willing to hear Price out. That much was clear after he’d clattered down into his old chair like a shot bird. 

You had expected as much.

In the end it was you that convinced Price just to take you to the kennels. Making a point of stressing that it would be far better to go before Ghost could come back. Something within you shook at the idea of being put back into the same horrible place by the same man that had rescued you from there to begin with. At having Ghost have to take the responsibility on his shoulders, once more letting down a hybrid in his care. 

After being checked in and issued a bedroll, it was time to say your good nights. You stared at Price through the doorway of the kennel, biting your frayed lip. No matter what he said, you knew well enough that it was your own stupid stubborn fault that you were back there again - for not just acquiescing to the brat’s commands in the first place. Stunts like that were the exact reason that you had the disciplinary record that you did. Always going against anyone that wanted to shove you down, all in the name of some kind of renegade fantasy that you had any control over your life. Fiercely defending the shreds of your honour as if you hadn’t spent most of your life as a beaten dog. 

Stupid. 

At the very least though, conditions were far better than your old haunt at Branhaven. That was something, you tried to tell yourself. The shiny black sleeping bag they’d given you was plenty thick and there was a groaning old heater that rattled overhead, so that the nipping cold temperatures felt more like being left in a draughty room. Even the construction wasn’t as bad as the other ones, rubber crumb flooring like that of a playground, meant that you wouldn’t get as stiff and a hard fibreglass front over the concrete walls meant that you wouldn’t be exposed to the elements. It was almost possible to think of it like a stay at the worlds worst hotel, rather than a mandated stay in the kennels. 

It wasn’t home, but at least you knew that you’d get to return there as long as you listened and kept your stupid trap shut for once. Home with Ghost. Now that you’d calmed down after the initial shock of being issued the punishment, an internal clock had materialised in your head. The countdown to when you could go home. All you had to do was take your medicine and you could be with Ghost again, everything could go back to how it was. That thought alone was enough to keep the needling panic at the back of your mind firmly restrained there. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t do more,” Price said, his voice stony and rough. “I don’t wanna leave you here, Pup…I really don’t.”

“Don’t wanna leave me, or don’t wanna have to face Ghost and tell him I’m here?” You said, making an attempt to lift his heavy expression. 

He grunted something that could be interpreted as a bitter chuckle. 

“Neither.”

You smiled a little, but didn’t have it in you to laugh. At seeing your expression, he crossed the threshold between you both and closed his palm over your head. His roughened fingers skimmed over your ears and softly rubbed some of the worry out from deep within your tissue. A proper moment of reprieve settled over your body, loosening tight muscles, before you were forced to part again by the approaching footsteps of the guard.

“Sorry, Sir. I have to lock all the kennels up for the night for lights out,” he explained sheepishly, eyes not fully able to reach Price’s gaze.

Price nodded at him and went to comply, though only after giving you one last ruffle over the ears. He stepped back after and allowed the fibre glass door to snick to a close. Your heart thumped extra loudly while it shut. Price gave you one last mournful look and then told you to get some rest, assuring you that he’d be watching over you even from afar. 

“Good night, Price,” you whispered back, watching his retreating back with sorrow filled eyes.

The guard grunted and double checked the door, ensuring it was locked and rattling the mechanism a few times before he was satisfied. The soft click of metal on metal forced your ears to twitch upward into alert. 

“Get into your bedroll. Light’s out,” the guard said, his voice hardened now that your Captain was gone. “If you cause trouble or give me any crap you’ll be removed for discipline and then returned here. Do you understand?”

“Understood, Sir,” you nodded, unfurling the sleeping bag with a shiver.

The guard allowed you to sort your bedding and once inside the puffy roll of fabric he flicked the light switch and left you bathed in the darkness. He continued down the line from there, the only evidence of his presence, the fading lights down the line and the clicking of switches and doors. 

You whined softly while rubbing your face against the cold fabric below, blanching at the cold rubber flooring. Your heart lurched at the thought of your bed back home. The thought of your cushy blue pillows, Simon’s soft fur, the dialogue unread from the ‘Super-Wolf’ graphic novels by your bed, the smell of rotisserie chicken that was supposed to linger in the air, no where to be found in that sterile place. This was all wrong.

No matter what position you got in, no matter how hard you tried to shut your mind off and return to old coping mechanisms, the idea that you could be safely in your bed weighed on your chest like an elephant. Before you were used to being shoved into a kennel and forgotten about, but now you knew that there was a better life. A life that had been ripped from you.

You wanted to scream, wanted to claw your way out of the sleeping bag and slam yourself against the clear glass like a mad person, wanted to raise hell until you were returned to your rightful place. Though you never followed through. You had to be good now. It was the only thing that would get you home. 

Instead, you let your head loll to the back wall, facing the speckled brick and let loose the tears that you hadn’t wanted Price to have to witness again. Couldn’t have him thinking that you were completely pathetic afterall. The hot paths they left burned against your cold cheeks, though they still couldn’t compete with the heat that filled your aching chest. 

I’ll be with them again. Ghost won’t let me go. 

-🐺-

“Mum…I had a nightmare. The monsters want to take me away.”

Your little tail was pinned fast under your legs, your ears folded so close to your head you could feel the fibres of your hair even through your fur. Blinking back the tears from your eyes, you swallowed and looked up at her imploringly, hoping for a big cuddle just like the ones you’d seen her give to your older sister.

If she knew the meaning in your look, she didn’t show it. She groaned and got up from the couch, mumbling something under her breath before grabbing your wrist and shepherding you back to bed. The long dark corridors of your house seemed all the more haunting at night, the sounds of all the appliances ringing through the walls like wails. You shivered all the way back to your tiny room. Your mum’s iron grip may as well have been a shackle tugging you to prison. 

“Right, get back to sleep. You won’t have another nightmare after you’ve just had one.”

She turned the light on while you sorted yourself, impatiently hovering by the switch until you were lying back in bed and clinging the stuffed dog that your sister hadn’t wanted - had so graciously thrown at you one day - to your chest. His name was faint to you now, a shadow in your anxiety addled mind, what did you call him again? 

“Sleep tight,” she sighed, turning the light out and spiriting out the door. 

You blinked out through the darkness and sighed, curling into a little ball and trying your best to retreat from the leering shadows in the corner of the room. In that darkness your mind created faces, grinning horrible faces that wanted to gobble you up and turn you into mince. Just like the monsters from that horrible movie your dad had watched the night before, completely unaware that you had been hiding under the dining table, trying to avoid your mothers wrath for the milk that you’d spilled before bed.

“Monsters can’t get you here, sweetie,” you whispered to yourself, remembering the calming words you’d overheard in your sister’s room a few nights prior. “Nothing will get you when you’re safely tucked up…snug as a bug in a rug. You have your teddy to protect you, he’ll watch over you all night! Then in the morning everything will be fine again and the sun will be shining.”

The words didn’t seem to hold the same weight when you said them to yourself. They just rang hollow in the static. Perhaps they didn’t work the same since you were different, a half-breed ‘thing’ that no one asked for. Were you worth protecting? Would the sun shine for you in the morning?

-🐺-

“Hey, Pup. Oi. It’s ok, you’re alright. Easy…Easy”

You gulped in a hungry breath of air and opened your eyes, chest absolutely heaving as you fought off the last of the evil spirits that cackled and snapped at your extremities. In all your confusion between sleeping and waking, you couldn’t be sure if the arms that were wrapped around you were real, and if they were, you couldn’t be sure that they were friendly. 

When you whipped round and saw Gaz staring down at you with wide concerned eyes, you still questioned to yourself if you were in another layer of a dream. This couldn’t be right, you thought drowsily. 

“Gaz?” you mumbled, tilting your head when he smiled at you. “What are you doing here?”

“Saving you from the bogeyman apparently,” he smirked, ruffling your ears until you swatted his hands away. “That looked like a fuckin’ mental dream, mate.”

“No, Really - what are you doing here?”

You looked around, noting the wide open kennel door and the hazy blue sky beyond, a soft gradient of navy and electric blue sheeted over the fences and trees beyond. It couldn’t be any later than three, maybe four at a stretch. Your sleeping bag was tangled round your ankles and the heater had turned off, but other than that nothing had changed in the kennel. 

All was quiet on base, no cars whizzed by, barely any noise sounded through the crisp morning air. Sleep soon scratched at your eyes, forcing you to rub them and then embarrassingly let loose a high pitched whining yawn that had your face heating like a furnace in embarrassment.

“Aw, you are just a cute Pup, aren’t you?”

“Gaz!” you growled, trying to fix him with a stare serious enough that he would answer. 

It was no use though. He wasn’t Soap, so a little mean look did nothing to wipe the stupid smile of his smug face. Though he did relent when you growled, and when he noticed your darting looks round the opened gate, probably seeing that you were searching for the guard. At that point you’d suspected Gaz had to have stuffed him in a locker or something. 

“Relax, you can stop clutching your pearls. Price has a mission for us.”

“What?” you frowned, thoroughly doubtful, “Really? Right after I got kenneled, huh?”

“Genuinely,” He snorted, shaking his head. “I didn’t believe him at first either, but he wasn’t in the mood to piss about and explain himself. Cap said to come get you and load up ASAP, he’ll explain when we’re in the air.”

“We’re flying out?”

“Uh huh. Sooner the better too, can’t believe they made you spend a night in this place. What a fuckin’ joke.”

“Doesn’t feel like a joke to my back,” you ground out, wincing mid stretch when you felt a bone crack and heard the resulting sound. 

“Jesus. You keep making noises like that and they might retire you,” Gaz snorted.

“Ha ha,” you said dryly.

He gave you room to move away from him, allowing you to stand up before looking you over. It was almost comical seeing the way he searched you for any signs of harm, his calculating eyes narrowed as if he were looking for weapons. He paused a moment, only unfreezing when you raised your brows at him and quirked your lips. 

“You solid?” he asked.

“I think so. You?”

“It’s three in the morning and I’m freezing my arse out here instead of being passed out in bed - course I’m not,” he smirked.

You rolled your eyes and bumped into his side, happily strolling out of the kennel and out into freedom. One night down you, you thought, only six more to go until I get to go back to my bed. At the very least you were happy you wouldn’t have to go to that prick, Smith’s, unit for the day. More than having to be separated from Ghost, you feared what he would do to you while in his care. You strongly suspected he’d have more than a slap lined up for you at that point. 

Gaz lead you to the changing rooms before taking you to the chinook, handing you your gear and waiting on the squeaky wooden benches outside the shower block while you got ready. Then after taking the world’s quickest and coldest shower, trying miserably not to get your hair or fur wet, you stepped out to greet him with gritted teeth and soggy ears. If one thing was abundantly clear then, it was the fact that Ghost had utterly spoiled you. There was no way you could face a cold shower again without thinking about the bathroom at his.

“When I get to go back to Ghost I’m gonna live in that shower,” you huffed, teeth chattering while wrapping yourself up in the big cosy fleece that Ghost had given you a few days before. “I’m gonna stay in there until I turn into a prune and then I’ll make sure that Ghost cans me and traps all the warm condensation in.”

Gaz laughed while watching you lace `up your boots last. Your fingers were shaking still from the bone chilling cold that had seeped through your entire body. It was a wonder that you thankfully managed to finish changing without any help. As much as you had considered pathetically asking him to tie them for you, you werent sure if you could go on soldiering knowing that Gaz had to help you like you were some kind of baby. 

“Pup in a can sounds like a pretty good product. New kind of IED discovered, we can just start lobbing you at the enemy instead of wasting grenades.”

“Lobbing me?” You said in faux shock, flattening your drippy ears. “I can’t believe you would even suggest that.”

“What? It’s a pretty solid strategy, would work wonders if we were facing an army of Mactavishes.”

“Gaz!” You squawked, flinging your dirty shirt at him. “Mean!”

He batted it away easily and laughed with you. 

“Oh c’mon. Soap would laugh if he was here.”

“Pfft, Soap here? coming to the kennels? Fat chance.”

“Aw, I’m sure he’d do it for you. His little furball,” Gaz teased, ruffling your ears. “Our fuzzy wuzzy puppy.”

You huffed and shooed his hands away, growling when he went to mess with you again. Gaz didn’t flinch at that, but he did roll his eyes and move back to lean against the wall. He was graciously allowing you to put away the rest of your gear in peace so that you could move out. He grew quiet while you shoved your things into the soft green rucksack, and just as you’d clicked the clasp on your bag closed, he regarded you with a more considering look. 

“What?”

“What?” Gaz returned, folding his arms. 

You frowned. 

“You’re looking at me funny.”

“Maybe it’s cause you’re funny,” he shrugged. 

“Shame that you’re not,” you replied dryly. 

“Well shit. Mess with the wolf and you get the fangs, huh?”

“You know it, Garrick.”

-🐺-

The chinook was more comfortable than the kennel. That you figured out after your belly was filled with a fat bacon roll and you had Gaz’s shoulder to lean on. Your eyelids dripped like syrup, lashes fluttering as you listened to Price drone on about the mission over the shaky comms. 

“Pup, are you listening? Knew I shouldn’t have bloody given you breakfast first,” Price admonished. 

You slowly blinked back at him.

“I am,” you huffed out, straightening your back against the chair. “We got evidence of WMD’s in Lata, so we’re gonna go there and secure em with a team from Los Vaqueros forces.”

“Top marks,” Gaz chuckled, ruffling your ears. 

You rolled your eyes. 

“These ears ain’t for nothin’,” you said with a sly grin. 

“Those ears better stay alert,” Price grumbled. “I need you alive and well so Ghost doesn’t disembowel me on return.”

Your ears perked up at that, your body quickly straightening up all the way. In all your tiredness and confusion at being taken away, you’d hardly thought about how Ghost would’ve felt about you being seperated from him for the first time. 

“You spoke to him last night then?”

“Tried to,” Price snorted. “After I told him where you were he just about bowled me over trying to get to you. Managed to convince him to let you be, but he was a pain in my arse all night. He wants to speak to you later, so if you would please be careful today me and my neck would thank you.”

“Is he coming here?” You asked hopefully, tail raising in your excitement.

“Probably not. If all goes well we should be outta here in a few days to a week. He said to call once we finish up tonight though.”

Oh. As much as you tried to stop yourself from visibly deflating, there was little you could do to prevent yourself falling back against the chair with a huff. It had already been to long without him and it had only been a day. The thought of the growing distance only gnawed at you as you thought about it more. 

“Relax, Pup. You’ll be back home to Ghost before you know it,” Price hummed. “Just gotta get through this in one piece first.”

“Yeah…but that’ll only be after I finish up my time at the kennels,” you grumbled, fully sagging into Gaz in defeat. 

“We’ll see.”

You tilted your head at the Captain wondering what the hell he meant by that, and even though he saw your curious look he didn’t answer it. All he did was wink. Even when you begged him to elaborate he shook his head and tilted down his boonie hat, making it perfectly clear that the time for talking was done.

“You could use more sleep yourself,” Gaz said afterward, watching you in your confusion. “Don’t worry too much about the future right now, you barely got any sleep last night by the sounds of that dream you were having, so you’re not gonna be able to think straight. Rest your head on me and I’ll try and keep the nightmares at bay, ok? Gotta wake up fresh for the mission.”

You pursed your lips, heart beating like a frail bird in your chest. So many questions danced around you, but every thought was dimmed by the tiring heaviness that had refused to shake itself from your body from the moment you’d woken up.

Gaz was right, you did need more sleep. And curling up on him sounded like a dream. However when you looked up into his soft hazel eyes, a sudden wave of heat pulsed through you and gave you pause. He practically glowed in the emerging morning light. 

“You sure you want me cuddling up to you?” you asked, laughing breathily to cover up your nervousness.

“Only as long as you don’t tell Ghost,” he winked. “Wouldn’t want him to get jealous.”

You shoved him playfully at that, but soon settled down once Price barked out for you both to be quiet. Bodies going ridgid before slackening into each other. Your head drooped gently down onto Gaz’s shoulder and he let his cheek rest on top of your head. The warm rays of the morning blanketed you both in its gentle hold and in minutes you were sinking into a now peaceful sleep.

[sepherinaspoppies]

Only If For A Night (i/?)

pairing: Dark! Book Aemond Targaryen x Modern! Reader

summary: In Dia De Los Muertos (Day of the Dead), she gets forcefully transported to Westeros and meets her favorite book character, Aemond 'One Eye'. She asks and begs for his help to send her back home after realizing this was a world she did not want to live in. Unknowingly to her, her favorite fictional man had already grown too attached to fully let her go.

warnings for this part: profanity, tea drugging, blood magic, sexism, I think that's it... more dark stuff later. READER IS LATINA !

wc: 4,027

series masterlist

my masterlist

pt2

notes: originally I was gonna have this fic be a one shot but it is sooo long that I decided to split it into three. this is an introduction part, aemond will be on the next (I'm half way done with that part).

She knows she is screwed when Doña Maribel broke the news to her that the last of the cempasuchiles were completely sold out in her shop. Making it five flower shops in the span of an hour that she walked to have fully run out of the bright orange flowers she needed for her ancestral altar that she and her abuela worked tirelessly on for the past few days. (marigolds, grandmother)

She wonders what to do next or perhaps where to go as she plays with the gravel beneath her shoes. Sure, she could walk another mile or so to another flower shop and try her luck there just as Doña Maribel suggested but she finds herself too tired to venture deeper in her small pueblo by herself. (town)

Even the walk back to her abuela’s was not something she looked forward to as of now. This was the time where she wished she had the ability to drive but alas she could not for even the streets of Mexico were more hectic and nerve wracking than back at the states. (grandmother’s)

She sighs in defeat. The cempasuchiles were the last thing on her abuela’s list of things she required for tonight’s first day of Dia de Los Muertos. The bright orange flowers illuminated the path of those who died, back into the land of the living and enjoy the offerings their family’s set up for them. (Day of the Dead)

Maybe for just tonight she could spare them.  

She sets her three mercado bags beside her as she sits down on a bench right next to a bus stop that could lead her directly to her abuela’s home. The smell of citrus of the lemon tree above her eases her disappointment and feels that this is the perfect spot to reread one of her favorite books. (shopping)

George R. R. Martin’s, Fire and Blood Vol. 1. She wondered what it was like to reside in a world of dragons (before they were all extinct), dire wolves from the North, red priestesses from Volantis, and mysterious yet powerful witches. To live inside the walls of the Red Keep and tour around the secret passageways and to fight for the rightful Queen of Westeros, Rhaenyra and the other members of the Blacks during the Dance of Dragons.  

Sadly, even if it was possible to venture deep into alternate fantasy universes. It all was pure fiction. Not real. Impossible. 

‘And so one-eyed Aemond the Kinslayer took up the iron-and-ruby crown of Aegon the Conqueror, “It looks better on me than it ever did on him,” the prince proclaimed.’

“Excuse me, do you happen to know when the bus is due to arrive?” She snaps her head up meeting the most beautiful and enchanting woman she’d ever seen. Eyes round and greener than the trees itself during spring. Hair long and black like ravens in the night sky. She was tall, taller than most of the women here with skin like porcelain that had not seen a day of sun, a rarity here in Mexico. 

It was her mischievous tight lipped smile that made her feel loss of words. Unknowingly, this mysterious woman was the first person who spoke to her in English, not Spanish.

“Umm… I- I’m sorry?” 

The green eyed woman smirked as if she knew the small effect she had on her. Gods she was beautiful. 

“The bus–” 

She shook her head out of her revere, coming to reality. “Oh, I’m not sure. Perhaps a few more minutes.” She informed, pulling her mercado bags closer to her side, allowing the green eyed woman to sit, not wanting to be rude. 

She murmurs a quick thank you as she sits exceedingly close to her, shoulder to shoulder, flesh to flesh with her. Jeez, talk about personal space! However, the woman doesn’t seem to care or acknowledge that she has enough space for her own person. A feeling of uncertainty rests below her gut, telling her to be vigilant around her presence.    

“How long have you waited?” She asks, breaking away the long silence between them. She almost shivers at the intensity hue of her eyes that bore right through her. 

“About ten to twelve minutes.” She replies, looking anywhere else but her. 

A satisfactory look sketched around the woman's youthful yet elderly face which she found odd. What could be so pleasing about the bus not arriving? The woman said nothing, only sitting rather straight, almost elegant in her simple long green dress. Though, in the back of her mind, she wondered if she felt hot underneath the heaviness of the velvet fabric. She sure as hell did.

“Wait, how did you know I spoke english?” She asked as the hairs on her arms stood up straight in some kind of chilling fear. 

The woman’s eyes lowered and centered on the object sitting up on her lap. “Your book gives it away.” She snickered softly, tilting her head reading the bold letters of her very worn book she got at the thrift store for just two dollars. “An interesting read.” The green eyed woman said whilst her face held no sincere fondness of it for someone who found it interesting. 

“You’ve read this before?” She asked curiously, little taken back, that she finally found someone else who read Fire and Blood Vol 1. Or anything by George R. R. Martin. 

“Yes, almost like I've lived through it” 

She opens her mouth to speak but the green eyed woman beats her to it. “I don’t mean to pry but where are you headed?” The smile falls off her face as she remembers the warning of stranger danger she learned as a kid. 

The woman must have noticed the dubious look upon her face as she threw her head back in a laugh. “I ask because it seems a storm is coming our way. And it looks like an angry one.” 

Sure enough, as she looked up the sky had turned into a deep gray with heavy clouds ready to pour any minute. Well this wasn’t forecasted in the noticias this morning, otherwise, she’d carry an umbrella. Or better yet, she wouldn’t have walked all this way if a storm was brewing. (news) 

“My cottage is not very far from here,” the green eyed woman revealed, standing up from the bench, overlooking the seriousness of the clouds. “It is just around the corner. Would you like to come?” 

She wanted to say no, that she was better off walking an hour back to her abuela’s house, even if it meant that she’d catch a cold in the pouring rain with blisters all over her feet. Besides, she did not know anything about this woman. Every bit of her mind screamed stranger danger! Don’t go!

But as she glanced between the heavy clouds and the green eyed woman with her hand extended out, all that doubt and worriment went away. 

“I don’t even know your name,” she pointed out. If all goes bad, at least she had a name to tell the authorities.

“My name is Alyssandra Riveras.” The green eyed woman smiled, bowing at the waist. 

Though still somewhat skeptical, she walks alongside Alyssandra to her cottage. She makes small mental notes in her head, counting the red stop signs, right and left turns and any other landmarks of important significance. 

She was almost positive she could point her way back home. It did not help that five minutes into their journey, it started harshly pouring out of nowhere like a bucket of water had been poured all over, blanketing her vision. 

Alyssandra’s cottage had sat on the outskirts of the pueblo, isolated from all civilization, hidden around tall and green pine trees. A faint voice in the back of her head screamed to run and never look back. She ignored it.

From a close distance, she was able to distinguish a small window with overgrown vines and branches wrapped around the perimeter of the cottage. Bones, bells, and crystal windchimes hung from the roof and windows, mostly likely put up for some kind of spiritual protection. 

She was no stranger to the craft. Although raised catholic, both her mama and abuela had hung an old broom above their doorway to keep away unwanted guests and negative energies as well as pinning the mal de ojo sigil around the walls for the look of evil and envy against their family. (evil eye)

“Cempasuchiles,” she murmured in awe when Alyssandra’s small garden came into view. It was the most of the orange flowers she had ever seen, all bright and lively and huddled together. 

“When the storm is over, you can grab as many as you’d like,” Alyssandra offered, peering over her shoulder, unlocking the door to her cottage. She nods following her inside whilst giving a grateful smile. 

The interior of the cottage was small, meant only for one person to take residence. The same size as what a studio apartment would be back in the states.

In no way was the inside minimal, in fact it was the opposite. Almost all of the walls were covered with shelves with small trinkets adorning inside such as little statues, crystals, herbs and other supplies. 

In the center of the room lay a huge stone like table, old and antique bearing the resemblance of something medieval. And something about it, sent shivers down her spine along with the same faint voice, telling her to run. 

She ignored it, again. 

“Give me your belongings, and change into this,” Alyssandra says, tossing a strappy white chemise. She exchanges her poor-soaked mercado bags that contained pan de muerto, churros, and tamales for her ancestral ofrenda. (bread of the dead, offering)

She turns around to protect her modesty, seeing as there was no other room to change nor did Alyssandra point her to the bathroom, so she lifts the drenched garment over her head and sheds away the last clothing she had on her body, leaving her completely bare in her birthday suit. 

She couldn’t help but to feel Alyssandra’s eyes watching her very intently, examining every inch of her body as if it met her standards or so. She knows she should use her hands to cover up and give Alyssandra a piece of her mind, or better yet introduce her to a knuckle and hand sandwich for the way she was looking too closely.  

Yet her body feels frozen, unable to move under the green eyed woman’s gaze. 

“Would you like some tea to keep you warm?” Alyssandra asked, moseying to the kitchen. 

She blinks, whatever paralyzing feeling she had dispelled away. “Um, yes thank you.” Alyssandra nodded, pulling what looked to be a kettle on the stove. Meanwhile, she slipped on the white chemise in a hurry to not feel as exposed anymore. 

She takes the time to analyze the rest of Alyssandra’s cottage as she hears the droplets of rain hit the rooftop harder and the sound metal being filled with water. Various of the same purple flower plants were placed near the entrance, she notes to herself that these couldn’t possibly be lavender but another species or something within the same family. 

A small cot laid in the corner close by the hearth, with multiple open ancient books and scrolls spread on top of the bedspread. She almost wants to look through the pages and read Alyssandra’s interests but she doubts she could as she observes the handwriting is unreadable from where she stood. 

She walks forward to where the hearth is, feeling slightly warmer as something immediately catches her eye. Above the mantle, hung on the wall was a medium sized portrait of a small boy, appearing no more than three years old. He stood straight, almost regally with his hands behind his back. His face held no gentleness or warmth like a child should have. 

Gods forgive her, but the child looked cruel like the gueritos who bullied her in elementary school when she was just trying to make new friends. (white boys) 

Though, for an evil looking child, he sure was beautiful. The most striking thing about him was his set of eyes. Wide with his left eye a dark violet and his right a dark green similarly to Alyssandra’s. His hair was straight and cut short right below his ears. She looked closer at the portrait, thinking if her eyes deceived her as she noticed the peculiar color of the boy’s hair. 

Silver. 

Curiosity takes the better of her as she asks, “Is that your son?” 

Alyssandra turns, holding two mugs of steaming tea. “Yes, that’s my beautiful little boy,” She places both glasses on the stoned table before she sits adjacent to her. It doesn’t go unnoticed by her the sad look on Alyssandra’s eyes. “He looks like you,” she points out though it’s somewhat of a lie in hopes to lift up Alyssandra’s spirits.

Alyssandra throws her head back in a chortle, “For all my hard work and labor, I had hoped he looked like me but nature loves to play its cruel jokes. He is a replica of his bastard father.” The thought of her son’s father left a sour and disgusting taste in Alyssandra’s mouth. 

Alyssandra focused her attention back to her, “What about you?” She asked, sitting rather too straight. 

“Do you mean if I have kids? Gods, no.” 

Alyssandra smirked, “I take it you don’t like the idea of children. I did not either but after years of solitude, I changed my mind. I had other children before my son, but all of them died before they were due. You, however, are still young. Your mind can still change.” 

She shifted in her seat anxiously, sipping the odd taste of the herbal tea Alyssandra provided. It wasn’t like she did not like children. She respected children and found them quite cute with their little tiny hands and feet and infectious laughs. But besides the point of appearance, children were a tremendous amount of responsibility that she found herself not ready for.

Not now. Not ever. 

She could barely handle taking care of herself. Much less care and provide for a child for eighteen years or so. 

“I don’t—” 

“Oh but you will,” Alyssandra fired back without so much as blinking an eye. 

She grimaced, knowing where this conversation was heading. And it was about to be a not so pretty one. She glanced at the window by the door, the rain was still heavy if not more.

“I thank you for giving me shelter. But I really must go. I was only just supposed to be out for some groceries and my abuela is probably wondering where I am.” Polite and respectful enough just as her mama taught her.

She grabbed her belongings that were hanging by the fire and stuffed them inside her mercado bag. Her hand was on the cusp of prying the door open when Alyssandra rushed to her side, wrapping her hand around her wrist. 

“Wait. Please don’t go.” Alyssandra pleaded, “It’s just that you remind me much about myself. I didn't mean to cause offense, I’m sorry.” 

Run. Say no and run now, While you still can…

There it was again that same paralyzing feeling closing in on her feet, preventing her to move. It was strange like a shield gluing both her legs down. 

She nodded, murmuring ‘fine’ under her breath as Alyssandra slowly led her back to the woven chair with such gentleness as a porcelain doll. “I still need to call my abuela, so she can know I’m alright.” 

Alyssandra twisted her face in a wince, “I’m afraid we’re too far out for any signals to catch a telephone call.” She held back the overweening snicker to herself, it was why Alyssandra chose her cottage to be settled this far out in this very modernized realm; so no one could find her. 

Alyssandra wasn’t lying. No matter how hard she hit her Iphone against her palm or moved it around, there had not been a single signal bar glowing. She wondered if her abuela had started to grow worried and perhaps began to search for her. She hoped she didn’t and that her cousins kept her preoccupied with the rest of the decorations to notice the duration of how long she’d been out. She also wondered if they were still going to the cementerio, to clean and decorate the graves of their loved ones but with the amount of thunder and rain, she’d doubt it was still on the agenda. (cemetery)

Alyssandra prepared some more tea as the fire gradually faltered down. This one had a different taste than the previous one with tiny purple petals floating around. Alyssandra watched very intently as she sipped every last drop while she scarcely touched her own mug.

The green eyed woman began asking her multiple personal questions, mostly about where she was originally from (due to the fact that her vocabulary deemed to be more vehement in English than Spanish), her family, and if she had any siblings. She had answered them all. Letting her know that she was just visiting from the states to celebrate Dia de Los Muertos with her family she had not seen since the death of her sweet abuelo. (grandfather)

Alyssandra’s eyes glimmered even more when she explained how strangely, her very stern and overprotective mama had suddenly let her travel by herself to a country she had never been to in years since she was small. Her mama preferred her to be where she could keep a close eye on her because ‘uno nunca sabe’ especially if you’re a woman. (one never knows)

It was odd, alright. Especially when her mama gave her money that she didn’t have, and enthusiastically wished her good fortune on her travels. Yup odd…

But not to Alyssandra.

Alyssandra sat down after cleaning both mugs ready to ask the hard hitting questions she’d been warming her up to. “Have you ever been with a man?” Her eyes widened before breaking rounds of deep laughter that made the sides of her ribs ache and cramp. 

However, there wasn’t an ounce of amusement displayed on Alyssandra’s face, but rather annoyance. What was so funny? It was a simple and uncomplicated question that meant no harm. At least not to her. He couldn’t harm her any more here. Alyssandra guessed perhaps it was the side effect of the tea making her humoristic. 

“No,” She replied, wiping the humoristic tears at the corner of her eyes. “The opportunity has never presented itself?” Alyssandra asked.

All the humor that previously lingered had gone swiftly away, realizing that Alyssandra was indeed asking something so personal to her. “No,” She shook her head, feeling her face hot and red. “People don’t look at me as someone they want to be with. They’d rather be with someone exciting, adventurous, and outing. And I’m neither of those things. I’m a homebody who’s idea of fun and adventure is living through fictional books.” She answered truthfully, too truthfully. 

Alyssandra watched her face transform into a deeper shade of red. “What is it?” She questioned, taking a hold of her hand, taking in the role of someone empathetic. 

“I want my first time to be special. Like the fairytales I grew up reading about with the grand Prince sweeping the young maiden off her feet and taking her to his castle…” The way her eyes reflected small flashes of light made Alyssandra almost feel guilty for her true intentions once the repercussions of the tea ran out. 

She remembers when she too wished for a dashing knight in shining armor to take her away, far away from the shit she had been through; the pain, the suffering, and the poverty. All of it. As Alyssandra grew well into her womanhood, she realized there was no knight coming to save her. Instead, there was a selfish Prince who spared her for his desires and her many talents beyond the acts of the flesh.  

But Alyssandra needed her to go. She needed that piece that was stolen from her. She didn’t want the risk of going back and facing him again and repeating through the hell and agony he put her through. So sending her for it seemed like the better alternative. 

“I know you probably think it sounds stupid–” She stammered, her face still beet red. 

“I don’t think it sounds stupid,” Alyssandra softly smiled, giving her hand a light squeeze. Judging by the serene look upon her face, it was a good lie that she seemed to believe. 

She smiled. Finally, someone who didn’t think of the idea of waiting for the right person was silly and unrealistic. 

Her smile deterred, sensing something trickle down her nose, dropping against the skin of her hand. 

Blood. Her blood. 

Run! 

“Alyssandra?” She whispered, puzzled at the sight of more blood spilling out of her nose. Every strand of hair in her arms stood, sensing a new type of alertness course right through her. She glanced at a very blurred Alyssandra with what looked to be a smirk written on her face. 

“W-What’s happening?” She stood from the chair, but that soon turned out to be a bad idea as her knees gave out, sending her straight to the stoned cold floor. She glanced up, watching as Alyssandra sauntered in front of her, and as much as she wanted to crawl away her body was glued to the floor. 

“Look,” Alyssandra said, crouching down at her level before she took her in her arms like a newborn baby, weighing little to nothing. “We don’t have much time. When you wake up, I need you to retrieve something of mine…” 

She felt her back collide on top of the stoned table, “What was in that tea?” She questioned but Alyssandra was quick to shush her. “It doesn’t matter now. You drank it all willingly.” There was no argument there. 

Alyssandra pulled out a jar with overflowing cempasuchil petals inside and circled the petals around her. Almost like a ritualistic circle she used to watch the brujas next door do. (witches)

“You need not to be afraid. You will not be harmed as long as you do what I say. Exactly as I say.” She gulped, nodding seeing as she had no other choice. “Bruja.” She spat but Alysssandra only chuckled, “I’ve been called much worse, little dove.” (witch)

Through the corner of her eye, she saw Alyssandra holding out a small knife. “I am in need of a sapphire. It was stolen from me many years ago. It is one of a kind, which is why when you see it you’ll know it is mine.” 

She momentarily shut her eyes as the dark haired woman rapidly cut the middle of her palm spewing her blood on top of the petals. “Once you’re successful, you’ll come back here with the sapphire and gather some of my materials. The marigold petals with your blood coating them; The blood of whom you took the sapphire from and lastly you’ll lay on top of my precious table here to be transported back.” 

There was an evil smile on her lips that she desperately wanted to punch it off. “And if I don’t get the sapphire?” She questioned. 

Alyssandra combed away her unruly braided hair, “Then I won’t bring you back and you’ll be stuck there forever.” 

Fuck. 

“Stuck? Stuck where? Where am I going?” 

Alyssandra clicked her tongue, “A place where fairy tales do not exist, my little dove.” If she wanted a Prince to sweep her off her feet. Alys would gladly give her one. 

She attempted to wiggle herself out of this pendeja’s spell but whatever Alyssandra mixed in the tea it was compelling her body to still and her eyes to slowly falter shut in a peaceful sleep. (dumbass) 

“However I should warn you, this spell is only valid until tomorrow. Until Dia de Los Muertos is over and even if you do achieve in retrieving the sapphire but it is after November second, you'll be permanently trapped with him.” 

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[soulofapatrick]

Rebuilding - Derek Hale x female reader

Summary: You show Derek the rebuilt Hale House you did for him

Words: 1.8k

warnings: none really; heavy making out

Notes: I can make a smutty part two

Y/N’s POV

The old Hale House had stood as a haunting reminder of the past, a testament to the tragedy and loss the family had endured. But now, it has been transformed into something new, something hopeful. With the combined effort of the pack and my Dad, it had become a symbol of rebirth and unity, a mansion that has welcomed every member with open arms and spare rooms for new pack members. 

As I stand in front of the restored mansion, I can’t help but feel a mixture of excitement and nervousness. Derek, who had once lived here in its glory days, deserves to see what I’ve done to the place. He’s been through so much, and I wanted this surprise to be a new beginning for him… for us hopefully. 

The anticipation in the air is palpable, and I can’t help but fidget with the key in my hand as I wait for Derek. The old Hale House, bathed in the soft light of the setting sun, seems to hold its breath in eager anticipation of his arrival. And then, I hear it - the familiar purr of Derek’s car engine. It’s a sound that I’ve come to associate with his arrival, and my heart quickens in response. The car pulls down the long, winding driveway, and I keep staring at the house, my hands shaking a little as I fiddle with the keys. 

Suddenly, there he is. Derek appears beside me, his tall, brooding frame casting a shadow on the gravel driveway. He looks rugged and handsome as ever, with that alluring air of mystery that has always drawn me to him. His dark brows are furrowed in curiosity and confusion, his eyes scanning the mansion before us as if he’s trying to work out where we are. It makes my heart drop as he doesn’t recognise it despite me trying to keep it as near as I can to the original Hale house. 

But then, something remarkable happens. As his eyes roam over the mansion’s exterior, his brows furrow even deeper, and then there’s a hint of disbelief in his expression. It’s as if the familiarity of the place has begun to dawn on him, piece by piece. The realisation hits him like a tidal wave. His kaleidoscope eyes widen, and a gasps escapes his pretty and plump lips, “Is… is this….?” His voice trembles with emotion, and for a moment, he can’t seem to find the words. 

I hold out the keys for him and he looks between the house and the keys and then back at the house, “I can’t… I… can you…” His voice falters, and it’s clear that he’s fighting back tears, the enormity of the moment almost too much to bear. Without a word, I’m nodding and reaching for his trembling hands. Our fingers interlace, and with a gentle squeeze, I lead him towards the grand entrance. 

Derek’s eyes remain locked onto the mansion, his disbelief and wonder still etched across his features. But he doesn’t need to say anything more for me to understand the whirlwind of emotions storming within him. 

I turn the key in the lock, my own fingers trembling slightly with anticipation. The door swings open, revealing the lovingly restored interior. The warm, golden light spills into the entryway, painting a new chapter on the old canvas of the Hale House. The grand entrance is now invitingly open, Derek taking a step forwards. His presence is so close to me that his chest is practically pressed against my back. The feel of him so near is electrifying, and it sends a shiver down my spine. 

“Welcome home Derek.” I say, my voice a soft, heartfelt whisper, as we cross the threshold together. 

The atmosphere inside is a mixture of nostalgia and fresh beginnings. The original features of the Hale House have been preserved, the hardwood floors polished, the walls adorned with artworks from the pack. The spaciousness of the rooms has been maintained, yet there’s a sense of cozy warmth that wasn’t there before. 

Derek’s gaze dances the space, a mixture of awe and sentimentality reflected in his expressive eyes. He appreciates the care and attention that went into preserving the essence of the house he called home. 

Then, he grabs my hands again with a gentle yet firm grip, leading me through the echoing halls as the pack gave us the house for Derek to see alone.  It’s a touch that sends a rush of warmth through me, the electricity of his touch palatable. We move through the house, our footsteps echoing, and Derek’s strides confident, as if he’s revisiting his own memories. 

As we ender the kitchen, Derek stops in his tracks. A soft, almost reverent sound escapes him, and his eyes widen again as he takes in the layout. It’s practically identical to the original Hale House kitchen, meticulously restored to match his recollections with the help of creepy uncle Peter. 

His grip on my hand tightens, and he turns to me, his expression filled with amazement, “This… it’s just like I remember it.” He says, his vice soft and filed with wonder, “You’ve brought it all back to life.” 

I can’t help but smile at his reaction. The kitchen holds countless memories for him, both happy and bittersweet, and seeing it so faithfully restored means the world to him. "We wanted it to feel like home," I reply, my voice equally hushed, knowing how much this place means to him. Derek’s thumb brushes over the back of my hand, his touch conveying the depth of his gratitude. It’s a silent exchange of emotions, the unspoken understanding between us.

And then, something changes in the air. Derek turns to me, his kaleidoscope eyes now shining with warmth and something else, something that sends a shiver of anticipation down my spine. His gaze flits down my lips, and in response, I can’t help but wet them with my tongue, suddenly feeling acutely aware of their dryness. It draws a small sound from Derek’s throat, low and almost involuntary, a testament to the magnetic pull between us. He leans in, closing the distance between our lips with a purposeful intent. Our mouths meet in a soft, longing kiss, a silent declaration of the emotions that have simmered between us for so long. 

His lips are soft yet insistent, moving against mine with a deliberate tenderness. I can feel the gentle, rhythmic movement of his mouth, each touch setting my heart racing. There’s a hint of urgency in his kiss, a desire that has been simmering just beneath the surface. Derek’s hands finding their way to my waist, holding e close as if he never wants to let me go. The touch of his fingertips against my skin sends shivers down my spine, and I press my body closer to his, wanting to feel every inch of him. 

My own hands move to rest on his chest, feeling the solid warmth of his body beneath my touch. They gradually work their way up, entwining in his shirt, wanting to pull him closer still. The connection between us deepens with every passing second, a silent confirmation of the emotions we’ve held back fr so long. 

Derek’s hands, which had been gently holding my waist, suddenly tighten their grip and before I can react, he’s lifting me up with a powerful yet careful motion. My legs instinctively wrap around this waist as he sets me on the edge of the kitchen island, never once breaking the kiss. 

Our lips remain locked in a heated embrace, a heated embrace, a testament to the fiery passion that's been ignited between us. Derek's tongue brushes over my lips, seeking entrance, and without hesitation, I part them, with a small, embracing sound escaping my lips which he swallows, tongue slipping past my lips. It's a dance of desire, a clash of longing, and a melding of two souls that have been drawn together by an irresistible force. Our mouths move with a shared urgency, each kiss deeper and more consuming than the last.

As our tongues explore and intertwine, Derek’s grip on my hips tightens, pulling me closer until I’m arched on the edge of the kitchen island. The sensation of his body pressed against mine is electrifying, sending heat down south where I’m pressed against his growing problem. It has my thighs tightening around him, hips jerking a little and drawing sounds from both of us. 

Finally our lips part, but only slightly, our foreheads resting against each other as we catch our breath. Derek’s voice is a husky whisper, filled with raw desire, “I’ve wanted to do that for so long.” He confesses, his words heavy with yearning, “ I couldn’t keep it in any longer.” 

My heart flutters at his admission, and I look into his kaleidoscope eyes, my own filled with the same longing, “Der…” I breathe, “I’ve felt the same way. I’ve wanted this as much as you have.” 

His lips find mine again, and the kiss that follows is fierce and fervent, a passionate culmination of our unspoken desires. It's a promise, a declaration, and a celebration of the love that has finally been acknowledged. 

But then, Derek's lips trail down from mine to my neck, and his kisses ignite a trail of fire across my skin. I gasp as his mouth leaves a mark, a fervent, possessive hickey, and another one right beside it. Each one is a silent proclamation of his desire, a mark of his longing for me. As Derek's kisses continue to trail down my neck, I gasp and my fingers clutch at his shoulders. The sensation is almost too much to bear, the heat of his mouth leaving a trail of fire across my skin, marked by possessive hickeys.

“Y/N,” He murmurs breathlessly voice heavy with desire, “If we don’t stop, I won’t be able to stop myself.” He pulls away slightly, his eyes dark and smouldering now and he lets out a low and sensual chuckle when an embarrassing moan escapes me. 

“Maybe…” I have to clear my throat, “Maybe we should check out your room.” My heart is racing as I say it, looking at him with a mixture of curiosity and desire, eager to hear his response but also somewhat ready for the rejection. 

Instead, he groans, head falling to my shoulder before he growls out, “Don’t… don’t say things like that baby girl.” I stay silent, knowing there’s more and he kissing my collarbone sweetly before murmuring, “But, I think it’s a very, very good idea.”

                           ┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

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[antoncore]

why don’t you figure my heart out? | p. wb (prologue)

synopsis: you’re the stylist to rockstar park wonbin, your first ever job in the fashion industry. he has a bad reputation for being hard to please and getting angry at his staff. he’s cold and dismissive towards you initially but as time progresses, he tries hard to be nicer towards you despite still having his moments. you’re constantly left confused by the way he behaves, wondering what it is he wants from you. can you figure his heart out?

contains: smut (in later parts), wonbin being an asshole (be prepared to want to beat him up lmfao)

characters in this part: you as wonbin’s stylist, wonbin as a rockstar, winter as wonbin’s manager

word count: 1k

it was the first day at your new job working as a stylist for the hottest rockstar at the moment, park wonbin. you knew working in the fashion industry was tough but nothing could prepare you for working with wonbin. not only was he extremely hard to please, he was known to be rude and dismissive towards his staff and you’d hear multiple stories of him making staff cry. regardless, you were determined to stay resilient as being a stylist was your dream ever since you were a little girl, always helping your friends and family with putting together outfits. you had made significant effort to look nice today, wearing a white t-shirt with a black, unbuttoned cardigan and a denim mini skirt. you styled the outfit with a pair of black boots and silver jewellery; your hair and makeup took hours, but you still looked effortless.

you took a deep breath as you walked into the studio, your heart pounding faster than it ever has in your life. there was a woman waiting for you at the front, greeting you with a friendly smile. “hi, you must be y/n right? i’m winter, wonbin’s manager, it’s nice to meet you,” she said, extending her hand. you shook her hand, grateful for her warm welcome which calmed your nerves slightly. “yes, that’s me. it’s nice to meet you too,” you replied, trying not to sound too nervous. winter walked you through the studio, introducing you briefly to other members of wonbin’s team. she got to wonbin’s room and turned to you. “wonbin’s just in here. just remember, he can be a bit intense, ok? just try to not take it to heart,” she said, giving you a reassuring smile. you nodded, your stomach twisting in knots as she opened the door.

and there he was. park wonbin himself sat on a chair, eyes fixed on his phone, completely disinterested in your presence. “finally, you’re here,” he snapped, not bothering to stand up or greet you properly. “let’s get started. i don’t have all day.” from this brief interaction, you already knew that this job was going to be one of the toughest challenges you had ever faced, and you swallowed hard in an attempt to guard yourself against his cold demeanour. you approached him, determined to make a good first impression despite his attitude. “good morning, mr park. i’m y/n, your new stylist,” you greeted, remaining professional despite your nerves. “i’ve prepared some outfits for your-“ before you could finish, wonbin cut you off. “yes, it’s for the photoshoot, just get on with it,” he interrupted impatiently, barely sparing you a glance.

you swallowed your initial frustration while you laid out the outfits you had meticulously prepared, each one designed to reflect his sleek yet edgy persona. you could feel wonbin’s eyes occasionally flicking towards you, assessing your every move with an air of silent judgment. with almost every outfit you presented to him, he rolled his eyes, complaining that they were all too basic for him and didn’t bring anything new to the table. “i’ve worn something like that a million times,” he muttered dismissively, his tone impatient. you tried to remain calm, reminding yourself of all the work you’d done to get to this point. determined to impress him, you pulled out the final outfit you had planned: a thin, black jumper with a black vest layered underneath paired with black, baggy jeans and a pair of dr martens. you added a statement belt and a couple of accessories that you hoped would appeal to his taste. “i thought this look could be different from your usual style while keeping true to your signature look,” you explained, holding up the outfit.

wonbin eyed the ensemble with a raised eyebrow. “what’s different about it?” he challenged, his tone sharp. you took a deep breath, trying to keep your composure. “well, i noticed you always wear that necklace,” you began, pointing to the piece of jewelry that hung around his neck. “i was reading this article and found out it’s something you’ve had since childhood. i thought we could incorporate it into your outfit to give it your own personal charm.”his eyes narrowed at you, and he leaned forward, a questioning look on his face. “did you just say you did research on my necklace?” he asked, his voice dripping with skepticism and anger. “you stalking me or something?”you felt a flush of embarrassment and a twinge of fear, but you stood your ground. “n-no, mr park. as your stylist, i need to understand your personal style and what matters to you. i aimed to create an outfit that not only looks good but also means something.”his face toughened, and he stood up, stepping closer to you, his presence imposing. “that’s just really fucking creepy,” he hissed. “you’re my stylist, not my biographer. stick to picking clothes and stop pretending you know me.”

you swallowed hard, feeling the sting of his words. “i-i didn’t mean to overstep, i’m so sorry. my intention was to create something meaningful for you,”you said, stuttering over your words. he snatched the outfit from your hands, examining it with a critical eye. “this better be fucking worth it,” he muttered. “i don’t have time for dumb little amateurs.”simultaneously frustrated and determined, you helped him change into the outfit. As he stood in front of the mirror, you adjusted the necklace to make sure it was visible, accentuating its significance. wonbin examined himself critically, his expression unchanging. “not bad,” he admitted reluctantly. “but don’t think this means i like you. you have a lot to prove.”you nodded, attempting to hide your relief. “thank you, mr park. i’ll continue to do my best.” wonbin turned away, dismissing you with a wave of his hand. “we’ll see about that. just mind your business and keep out of my personal life.”

you left the room, your heart pounding just like when you entered. your hands were shaking as you held back tears, insistent on ignoring wonbin’s harsh words. you didn’t want to let them discourage you, this had been your dream for years. after this encounter, you wanted to prove yourself to wonbin that this opportunity was one that you deserved even if he was difficult towards you.

cee’s taglist ♡ @binoyu @taemyoun @wonbin-truther @scarwxrld @wonbinkisser @luvnvivi (comment to be added <3)

[callmerainman]

No Derogatory Nicknames | sinner!Adam x fem!sinner!Reader

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3

pairing. sinner!Adam x fem!sinner!Reader

plot. You're the one and only member of the Royal Family's official army, and you were given the first, vital mission in your lifetime as a bodyguard. Surveilling the First Man on Earth, Adam. Reincarnated in Hell. You and Adam agree on two things: you can't stand each other, and you would never sleep together.

word count. 3.3k

tags. Hazbin Hotel ep8 spoilers!, enemies to lovers, Adam reincarnated as a sinner in Hell.

tw! cursing, Adam being Adam, mentions of sex

part. 1/3

The Royal Family’s official army was a millennium-old institution, skillfully trained through the years to protect Lucifer’s family from potential threats. Except that the army has lost its prestige a long time ago, and you’re the last unit left. You joined the army a short time after your death. It was princess Charlie Morningstar who guided you towards that decision, after finding you lost and scared, wandering around Pentagram City. The infernal princess didn’t specify that the army was dismantled hundreds of year prior, and that it was just an excuse to convince Lucifer to give you hospitality in one of their mansion’s rooms. In the end, the King accepted to make you a bodyguard. You went through trainings, trials, impossible challenges. All of that to…guard Lucifer’s rubber ducks. Boredom wasn’t ignorable. So when Lucifer asked you if you could take on a really serious mission, you accepted immediately. And your task really was important.

Guarding Adam, the First Man on Earth. Reincarnated in Hell.

After wandering for days around Pentagram City, just like you did, he asked the Hotel for help. E promised that he would change. Charlie, being Charlie, couldn’t deny him a chance. But Lucifer didn’t trust him, and accepted his permanence at the Hotel only at the condition that you would be guarding him. And that’s how you arrived at the Hazbin Hotel, how you met Charlie’s friend and especially…Adam. You immediately regretted the rubber ducks. Adam accepted in turn the idea of being watched, but he detested it and didn’t hesitate to let you know. He was as old as the Earth but as immature as if he was born yesterday. Arrogant, hot-headed, presumptuous. He made your job impossible, but he was clever enough to not show it too much to still stay at the Hotel. You were the opposite of patient and dealing with him was troubling. Talking back to him corresponded to a reaction. For example he never spared himself from letting you know how much he did NOT want to sleep with you, because of how much he found you insufferable.

“I have other priorities, instead of being approached by your teeny-tiny thing” you said.

“Hey! You can only dream of having a taste of the original dick!” Adam said, pointing a finger to your face.

And Adam hated when you followed him around town, with your angelic spear always clenched in your fist. He would always mumble insults under his breath, to which you responded with the same medicine. For example when you accompanied him to the few music shops in the city to fix his electric guitar that he would always break out of frustration of being here.

“I’m here only because Lucifer asked me, ‘cause otherwise I would have already called Nifty to repeat the job” you hissed between your teeth, sticking your spear towards his face.

Adam would hunch forward in an attempt to intimidate you “Oh yeah, go get her, so you can show your Hell Daddy how efficient of a bodyguard you are!”.

And you couldn’t do nothing more than sighing, squeezing the spear in your fist because you knew that Adam was right and you couldn’t do anything about it. You always looked forward to nighttime so that you two could separate and go to your respective rooms in the Hotel. Even the guests were relieved, because your bickering was daily and their ears were filled with your insults thrown left and right. Adam, although he was the one who knocked on the Hotel’s door, wasn’t too fond on participating in its activities. He didn’t get the benefit of Charlie’s exercises, and that anguished him because it seemed like the road back to Heaven was far away. Even there, your duty was to encourage him in participating. And your patience with the First Man was running out, so you had to do so by growling between your teeth to be proactive.

“I get it, bitch” he would whisper, enough to be heard from you but not by Charlie. And then he would improvise some sort of low effort answer barely sufficient to make Charlie happy.

You started to get the feeling that some of Charlie’s exercises were specifically aimed at making you and Adam get along. You had your confirmation when once Charlie called only you and Adam, letting you sit together on the couch. Adam’s fists were clenching in correspondence with his knees.

“What are we doing?” he asked.

You crossed your arms on your chest, cocking an eyebrow. Charlie laughed nervously, feeling a growing tension.

“Uhm…see this as a sort of…couple therapy!”

You and Adam, in tandem, erupted in a disgusted groan. His new wings, now turned black, ruffled and pointed upwards in a synced motion with yours.

“WE’RE NOT A COUPLE!” you two shouted in unison.

“I know, but you’re always together and…”

“WE DIDN’T CHOOSE IT!”

Charlie agitated both her hands “But you need to stand by each other, and I would like for you to do so without fighting every time! There must be something you get along in, right?”

You protruded forward “The only thing we agree on is that we would much rather die for eternity than being close to each other”.

Adam raised his arms to emphasize your words “Exactly, I would rather be stabbed again by your filthy janitor than sleep with a pain in the ass like her”

“What did you just say?!”.

Charlie, seeing you two jump towards each other to fight, threw herself between you both to avoid it.

You couldn’t sleep that night. With your head plunged in your pillow, you smothered screams of frustration. Adam, Adam and again Adam. He fluttered in your head with hammering insistence, tormenting you even in moments of relax. Why was he always traveling in your head? Why did you keep visualizing his dumb fucking face when he insulted you in the most disparate ways? Fuck, he knew how to get on your nerves even in dreams.

———

“Adam!” Charlie stops the fallen angel in the Hotel kitchen. He was filling his bowl with milk and cereals.

“Yeah, brat?” he replied.

Charlie sighed “What did we say about nicknames?”

Adam rolls his eyes, bringing a spoonful of cereals to his mouth.

“No ferogafory nifnames” he slurs, his cheeks full.

“Exactly!” Charlie claps her hands “anyway, I need you to do me a favor. You should go grocery shopping for the Hotel”.

Adam raises a brow “Groceries? What am I, a-“

He interrupts himself when his eyes meet yours behind Charlie’s shoulder. Where did you come from? In any case, your gaze is as furious as always. He’s pretty sure that he never saw you peaceful in all his permanence in Hell. Your fuming look is enough to make him desist, so he sighs.

“Alright. And I suppose that Mrs. Spear-Up-My-Ass is going to come with me”.

“Of course (Y/N) will go with you, you’ll shop together” and Charlie adds a hopeful grin.

“How fortun-OH”.

Without noticing, you appear on Adam’s side, a reassuring look on your face but reserved only to Charlie.

“Don’t worry Charlie, I’ll keep an eye on him”.

“Can you not stick your shitty angelic spear in my fucking cereals?!” Adam cusses.

Nervously, Charlie smiles “Of course (Y/N), but I’m pretty positive that Adam won’t cause any trouble”.

You shrug your shoulders “I dunno, I don’t expect much from a dirtbag of his caliber”.

Adam drops the spoon in the bowl of milk, cereals spilling out of it and one of them hitting your cheek

“What, you old hag?!” he screams.

“Old, me?! You’re literally as old as the Earth!”

Charlie puts her hands in her head, desperate “Just go shopping for fucks sake!”.

Half an hour later you and Adam are walking down the streets of Pentagam City. He was bragging about the time he broke the record of bras thrown on stage during a gig he performed in Heaven. Now that you think about it, Adam played in a band when he was up in the skies. And he has an electric guitar that you always accompanied him to fix. By the way, you never stopped to ask yourself what kind of music he listened to, or what genre he played. That’s because you never thought there was something worth to know about Adam. You turn around to look at him in the eyes. When he talked nonstop, without insulting you, his face was more relaxed and in a certain sense a bit more pleasurable to look at. Two big, curled horns sprouted on his head when he reincarnated, you grabbed them so many times while fighting.

“And what did you play with your band-“

“We’re here”.

You stop. You look at Adam, you didn’t realize that you reached your destination. Maybe you’ll pick up the conversation later, maybe not. Why would you want to know more about the Exterminator? You shove a hand in your pants pocket and you take the list Charlie prepared. You put it in Adam’s hand, and you turn around.

“C’mon, go inside”.

Adam frowns, puzzled.

“Wait, you’re not going with me?”.

Adam plants himself in front of you, trying to read your face. He wants to know if you’re making fun of him or something like that. But he only finds embarrassment, as you try to avoid his analysis.

“Do you need me to hold your hand or you can handle it on your own?”.

For a second, Adam’s eyes widen, then a sly smirk crosses his face.

“You wanna hold my haaaa-“

“No” you stop him “and that’s why I’m telling you to go alone”.

Adam shrugs, he looks amused.

“Okay, I’ll treasure this opportunity to get away as far as I can from you”.

And so Adam goes. You realize that all the time you tried to avoid his eyes, your face was burning. You didn’t want him to see even a drop of trust in your eyes, not even the tiniest amount sufficient to let him go grocery shopping. So you stay still outside the supermarket, your angelic spear hidden between your wings to not catch passerby’s attention. Time goes by, and soon Adam will finish. But Adam doesn’t come back. You decide to wait a little more. Then you hear sounds of shouting inside the supermarket, an argument between two men. A carousel of possible scenarios displays in your mind. Adam who calls the cashier a bitch, Adam who yells to the staff because they’re out of ribs. You immediately dash inside, almost smashing through the automatic glass door. You follow the sound of screams, and you find Adam. It’s just not the scenario you had predicted. Adam has his hands raised in front of a bull-like demon, who has a fist directed towards him.

“I recognize you, you know? You’re that shithead from the Extermination”

Adam, visibly pissed off, still keeps his palms open “Hey asshole, I don’t know what you’re talking about”.

It’s when the other demon jumps onwards to attack Adam that you throw yourself between them, your spear pointed towards the bull.

“Don’t fucking touch him!” you yell.

Your chest rises and lowers wildly with every breath. You can’t see it, but Adam’s eyes are incredulous. He looks at his own chest, your free arm is pressed against it, pushing him back in protection. Your teeth are gritted, your horns grown exponentially. His cheek tickles because one of your wings is brushing against it with ruffled feathers, and his skin starts to warm up because your hair caught fire. Adam saw you enraged so many times, usually because of him, but never like this. In the end, the demon gives up, taking a step back from your tended spear. He grunts and takes his leave, fists still clenched but not a menace anymore. You finally relax, the fire in your hair suffocates, your wings recollect themselves and your horns shrink back to their original size.

“Ehm…what the fuck happened?” Adam asks, trying to find your eyes. You run away from them as always.

“Don’t ask questions”

“I thought you were supposed to protect others from me, not me from others”

You press your lips in a thin line, and walk towards the checkout with the shopping bags Adam dropped.

“It’s not like I can leave you moribund on the floor of a supermarket with the possibility of you respawning somewhere else in Hell where I can’t supervise you. Let’s get back to the Hotel now”.

Adam follows behind you, and you know he’s smirking. He steals one of the shopping bags from your hand, and takes your side.

“Well, what were you about to ask me outside? You wanted to know about my band in Heaven?”.

Back to the Hotel, you’re welcomed by a wide smile from Charlie. Just seeing you two walking close without fighting signs on your bodies means a lot to her.

“Sooooo, how did it go?” she asks, sliding in front of you.

You and Adam exchange a quick glance, then you shrug “He almost got jumped”.

“Oh c’mon!” Adam exclaims, raising his arms in protest.

“Why so?” Charlie asks.

“A total asshole almost recognized me” Adam says.

“It’s not a secret that you reside at the Hotel, and someone might not like you” Charlie adds.

“I don���t like him-“ you convene.

“We know, (Y/N)!” Charlie sighs “and because there are sinners like you who, rightfully so, don’t like Adam, we need you to be close to him. Even because we can’t risk Adam using his powers, it could be trouble”.

You stop to reflect, meanwhile Adam puts the grocery bags on the kitchen counter without saying a word. Now that you think about it, Adam didn’t use his powers. When he reappeared in Hell, although with less capacity, he still kept a great power. He was prohibited from using it at the Hazbin Hotel, but anyone would have used them in a situation like the one that unfolded at the supermarket. But Adam didn’t do nothing. He just raised his hands, limiting himself to only cuss at the potential aggressor, and then you intervened. Did he internalize a Hotel lesson?

“No, Adam didn’t use his powers. We gotta give him credit for that” you say.

Adam freezes as he opens the fridge to organize the groceries. You can’t see him, but he’s delicately blushing.

“That’s awesome!” Charlie chirps, happily “It’s a great step forward, Adam!”.

“Mh yeah whatever” Adam brushes it off.

“And you Adam, did you see any quality in (Y/N) that you previously ignored?” Charlie asks, full of hope.

Adam looks at you. You press your lips together and for a moment you hold each other’s gazes. You feel yourself palpitating, and it bothers you.

“She was cool I guess. Cool-ish. And she got interested in my band. But that’s natural, all bitches are interested in my band”.

“Adam, nicknames!”.

Adam raises his shoulders “If (Y/N) doesn’t mind, I’ll go to my room”.

“Me too” you assert.

You wave at all the guests in the lobby, Angel Dust has a weirdly wide smile on his face, almost amused. You go up the stairs, following behind Adam. His arms fall on his side.

“You wanna follow me to my bed?!” he says.

“I’m going to my own room which happens to be next to yours, asshole!”

“Yeah yeah, it’s more likely for Mr. Deer over there to cross the Pearly Gates than me letting you have a piece of this” Adam replies, pointing both fingers down to his groin.

“I don’t even want it!”.

Downstairs, Angel Dust looks at everyone with insistence. Husk is confused, Alastor simply disinterested, and Cherri Bomb appears to already know what the spider demon is about to say.

“Is it me or I sense a certain sexual tension?” he finally says.

Vaggie, Husk and Charlie sigh in resignation. Alastor decides that it’s time for him to get up and leave. Cherri Bomb, on her part, chuckles.

“Yeah I think it’s only you” she says.

“If you sense sexual tension between them I think you got a serious problem, Angel” Vaggie says.

Angel bursts out laughing, throwing himself back on the couch and crossing his numerous arms behind his neck “I bet good money that those two will end up going at it within a week”.

Before they could realize it, all of them were already placing a good amount of money on bets. All pointing towards a no. Angel Dust is the only one convinced of his vision. That between the Royal Guard and the First Man, climbing up the stairs next to each other with annoyance, there could be something that keeps you close in a different way.

———

Adam stops in front of his bedroom’s door. He opens it, and you walk towards the door next to it which is the one for your room. But Adam clears his throat, staring at an indefinite point in front of him.

“Uhm…can you come here a sec?”.

You raise a confused eyebrow, and you cautiously walk towards him. You should be holding your angelic spear, but you left it aside. You stand behind him, and Adam turns around to face you.

“Yeah?” you question.

Adam looks at you, and you raise your chin to hold up his golden eyes. This time you see the flushed red on his cheeks, and his embarrassed expression.

“Well…thanks for today…I guess? This is how Lucifer’s brat wants me to talk to you, right?”.

Your eyes widen in surprise, and your hands start to fidget. It’s not difficult to look at Adam when he’s being like this.

“Yeah, I don’t know, whatever. Don’t expect things to change” you reply.

Adam scowls, and moves closer to you.

“Of course not, you’re still a world-class pain in the ass”.

“And you’re still a fucking jerk”.

Your foreheads are almost touching, you can feel his breath on your face. You notice it too late. Why aren’t you backing up? Shouldn’t that be easy? Your heart is racing again.

“And you’re still a bi-“

“Hey” you interrupt “Charlie said…”.

Too close now. As always. You and Adam have always been close. In a different way. And you always wanted to leave. But not even Adam is moving and his gaze softens. He’s looking at you intently, he’s burning and doesn’t know what to do and at the same time he seems convinced on something.

“I know” he says, with half a tone “nicknames should not be um…”.

He stumbles on his own words, you’re now chest to chest, and you try to help him out “Nicknames shouldn’t be de…” you have trouble too.

“Deroga…tory…” he mumbles.

You lean in. And without premeditation, there’s a kiss. Strong, desperate. Your lips intertwined, your hands in his hair and grazing his horns, and his own hand placed on your waist. He doesn’t need to pull you closer, you already were. You don’t have time to breathe, your kisses are too persistent. A couple of moans escape you both, out of confusion and satisfaction. Now your arguments all look like a joke, because it’s obvious that the sexual tension Angel Dust envisioned is an undeniable reality. Despite spending months repeating that it was something that would never happen. And here you are, clinging to one another, making out. And it feels good.

When you separate you meet his eyes. You expect something terrible. Disgust, or that he stays true to his word and strays away. But you don’t see any of that. Only disbelief, and a sort of epiphany that encourages him to encapsulate the nape of your neck with a hand.

“Shit” he says.

“Shit” you convene.

And then you throw yourselves against each other’s lips again, and Adam drags you inside his room. You let yourself be taken away, and you shut the door close with a kick.

[avenshine]

“waiting on me?” + ( hsr penacony men )

waiting on your boyfriend to return home, you fall asleep.

warnings: spoilers for 2.0 main story quest. possibly ooc, trying to get a feel of their personalities to write, kinda rambled on dr ratio’s part sorry, lmk if i missed anything.

AVENTURINE

he had promised to bring home dinner for both, so you could enjoy it and just discuss whatever came to mind.

unfortunately, that’s not what the ipc had in mind. they had him in an unexpected, long meeting. the food had gotten cold, and by the time he returned home, you were already sleep.

he kisses your forehead softly, whispering into your ear, unsure if you’d remember or he’d just appear in your dream and say it.

“i promise i’ll make it home earlier, my luckiest charm.”

SUNDAY

as a member of the family, he’s constantly busy, but he always makes time for you. today was a tiny bit of the exception, though.

he had some rather difficult people checking in at the hotel, so dealing with them in the most polite way he could took more time than he imagined.

so when he returns back to you, he finds you sound asleep, letting out an apology and a promise to make it up to you.

he puts a blanket over you, wishing you a goodnight and a very, sweet dream of how he can make it up to you.

DR RATIO

dr ratio tries not to make promises he cannot keep. it doesn’t matter, big or small, time frame, if he feels he cannot do it — he doesn’t.

so when he’s late to your date, that you guys had planned months in advance, he feels terrible. he didn’t realize how much time had actually passed, the book he was reading wasn’t as important as you, this was just a simple fact. so how come he was so caught up in that he forgot the time?

at this point in time, he’s currently rushing over to your place, to apologize. he has a spare key, so when you don’t answer to his pleads, he figured there’s only one logical reason, you fell asleep. he opens the door, locks it and finds you still in your date night outfit, asleep like he figured.

“i’m so sorry, my love. i will spend as long as i need to, making this up to you.” and he carries you to bed, putting the covers over you; and wishes you a night well.

GALLAGHER

gallagher, like dr ratio, doesn’t want to make promises he can’t keep. he tries to stay on top of things, but how was he supposed to know he’d run into the nameless and their “friend?”

that definitely slowed down his journey, so when he finally makes it back to you— he spews nothing but constant apologises, and when you don’t respond— he figures he’s really pissed you off.

until he takes a closer look, and realizes you’re just sleeping.

he smiles at the sight of just you before he writes a quick note; leaving it beside you before he leaves again in the night to attend to his bartending.

[milla984]

With Neighbors Like These

Summary: Jack goes away for the weekend and Aaron and Reader can finally have some alone time (inspired by this concept)

Pairing: post season 12 Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader

Category: smut (NSFW, 18+, MDNI)

TW/CW: kissing, mutual masturbation, moderate dirty talk, penetrative sex, protected sex, established relationship, unspecified age gap, Hotch dealing with parenting issues, Jack is mentioned but not present

Word Count: 2k

The house was unusually quiet as you walked in, leaving your shoes at the entrance to proceed barefoot towards the small office Aaron had arranged for himself with a few retouches to the spare room in the back.

Despite having a key in case of emergencies and whatnot, like a very good neighbor, it was a common decision you’d only use it on specific occasions and mostly when Jack wasn’t around. A single soccer cleat lay abandoned in a corner in the living room; were it to happen on a regular day you knew the mere sight of it would have sparked a fierce argument, but this morning was different. 

The evening before a very concerned father had driven his fourteen-year-old son to the arranged meeting point, camping gear in tow, and Jack was now enjoying a two nights excursion somewhere in the local woods. You had a feeling that, conversely, Aaron wasn’t getting a kick out of the child-free weekend - confirmed by his rapid typing on the keyboard when you knocked on the wooden frame of the French door to catch his attention.

He looked at you and cracked a smile, still too focused on what he was doing. “It won’t take too long. I promise.”  

You dropped your purse under his chair and hugged him from behind, the scent of his aftershave filling your nose with pure delight.

“Feeling lonely, already?” 

“Why?!” he enquired. “I didn’t have to shout five times to turn off that damn videogame, last night… and nobody guzzled down half a gallon of milk directly from the bottle, at breakfast!”

“You’re also worried, I can tell,” you added and he shrugged, defeated, then went back to focusing on the screen.

He’d been working part-time as an FBI consultant for a law firm for about a year and you had never seen him putting his job before his kid: he was an active member of the PTA and even volunteered to chaperone whenever he could (something that many moms and other dads found incredibly hot, without a doubt). If he was working on a Saturday he was a hundred percent desperate for a distraction.

Your palms brushed over his shoulders and a delicate touch soon turned into a proper massage, kneading his muscles through the polo shirt he was wearing. 

“Relax. You’re too tense,” you mumbled. He had only shared a few unpleasant details about his life as a member of the Behavioral Analysis Unit in D.C. before he and Jack moved into the neighborhood; nevertheless, it didn’t take a genius to figure out his former employment as an FBI agent had taken a huge toll on both of them.

“I’m not sure I should have signed that consent form,” he confessed. 

“His entire class is with him and his teachers all have cell phones, nothing’s going to happen. Save for a few mosquito bites,” you replied. “And don’t get me wrong... but aren’t you being just a bit overprotective?!”

“Jack told me the same thing when I said I wanted to think about it. Except, he didn’t phrase it so nicely,” Aaron grinned and shook his head while he rose to his feet. “Sorry, enough with the family issues,” he apologized, “it’s a lovely Saturday morning. Have you got any interesting plans?” 

“I have. And they don’t involve homework,” you declared, and as you pushed his laptop to the opposite side of the desk he locked an arm around your waist, his expression reverting to a serious one.

“... so you’re a bad influence.”

The intimidating attitude he could pull off with a single stare never failed to make your legs turn into jelly. 

You lowered your voice to a purr. “You don’t even kn—”

His soft lips pressed onto yours stopped you mid-sentence. The fact he had a teenage son registered in your mind only as a foggy thought and the power he’d had on you since the instant you saw him jogging around the block was almost inexplicable.

“You’re right, no more homework. How about I take you out for lunch?” he proposed and the warmth of his breath on your skin ignited a fire you weren’t at all convinced you could control. Or would.

You hugged him tight, your bodies finally making contact. “How about we take care of something else, first?”

Aaron’s attitude towards romantic relationships exuded manners and consideration, the portrait of a gentleman from a different era, so the response to your suggestion came as a surprise: he’d always shown a preference for the intimacy of his bedroom, even though his palms stroking over your breasts to make your nipples grow stiff and visible through the fabric was the perfect sign he had no intention of wasting any time to move the action upstairs. 

Your tongues lustfully met in a second kiss, prompting you to let out an excited sigh as you blindly undid and removed his belt before letting it fall on the floor with a loud clunk. You reached for his zipper and he sighed in return but gasped a second later when you gave him a light push that forced him to sit down again. 

“Show me how you do it when we’re not together.”

Aaron’s eyes widened - confusion and stupor at the beginning, then the sheer thrill of the idea lit up his gaze. And made him hard entirely.

He sank into the cushion behind his back to finish unzipping his pants and pulling them down his hips so that his swollen erection was only contained by a thin layer of underwear. 

“You’re just going to watch?” he asked, locking eyes with you. You could have sworn that look alone increased the temperature in the room by a couple of degrees. “Doesn’t seem fair.”

You reached under the flowy dress to roll your panties along your thighs, letting them crumple around your ankles; you sat on the desk and lifted the skirt up to your waist, your feet resting on Aaron’s parted knees. 

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

He swallowed nervously but didn’t miss a movement of your fingers starting to draw circles around your most sensitive spot, guided by the aching tension in your belly; your mouth watered at the sight of his cock whipping free and he noticed, so he took his time to wrap his right hand around it.

You knew how to work his length, moving up and down in slow and long strokes as foreplay, nevertheless witnessing such a handsome man masturbating for you proved to be one of the most lascivious experiences of your life.

“I always think about you when I touch myself…” you confessed, and he held on to your ankle with his free hand while you rubbed your clit. 

“Are you trying to make me lose control?”

You nodded in confirmation and he growled. 

He was now coating his shaft and palm with the leaking precum, using only his index and middle finger to collect some of the slickness and spread it over the bulging head, the exposed glans glistening in the process. That was when he usually begged you to move faster, since his delicate skin was lubricated enough and increased friction meant pleasure - not pain.

“I’m really wet for you,” you teased him, your own desire pooling at your core, but his reaction threw you off balance. 

“Stop, please… stop,” he whimpered, “this is not…”    

His ragged breath made it difficult for him to articulate his words. “I need you.”

You gestured at the purse that was still under his chair and he handed it to you; sharing the house with a teenager meant Aaron had grown accustomed to some of his clean t-shirts randomly disappearing from his drawers and wardrobe, so you both knew nothing out of the ordinary could be hidden among his personal stuff. 

He stared at you, entranced, as you retrieved the small box you’d carried with you and tore one of the foil packages open. 

“A little closer, maybe…?” you joked, and when he stood up you bit your lower lip in anticipation. He kissed you lightly on your forehead as you unrolled the latex down his hardness, then you pinched his chin and smiled at him.

“Better?!”   

He whined again. “Not exactly.”

You grabbed him by the nape of his neck, speaking softly to his ear. “Make me come. I can’t wait anymore.”

The uninhibited request seemed to have flipped a switch in him: the sound of a pencil holder spilling its content made you laugh as Aaron enthusiastically raised your legs in the air and held them to his chest, so he could start rubbing the tip of his cock up and down your folds.

It was torture but he was damn good at it.

When he managed to get himself covered in your arousal he slipped the bulbous head past your entrance. “It’s so big…” you muttered.

Truth be told he wasn’t that well-endowed and you had nothing against it, since you’d never been keen on painful sex, still you welcomed him with a loud moan once he buried himself inside of you. Even a gentleman from another era didn’t mind a bit of flattering and appreciation of his manhood. 

He wasn’t as vocal, though, but his deep groans reverberated in his throat in a manifestation of primal, untamed passion; he looked so solemn it drove you insane, his brows furrowed and tiny droplets of sweat trapped between his short hair, almost as if he was directing all of his energies into screwing your brains out.

When his thrusts grew slower but more intense you wriggled your legs free and locked them around his waist: with a last, fierce grunt he twitched several times and you closed your eyes to enjoy the moment, which was always the biggest turn-on for you.

With your eyes still closed you welcomed the pressure on your lips, a not-so-subtle invitation to take his index and middle finger in your mouth; you sucked on them alternately, happy to oblige, tasting traces of the salty precum. You clawed at his forearm when he brought the wet digits to your clit, rubbing and drawing circles just like you’d shown him before.

“Aaron… I’m…” you mewled, grabbing a fistful of his hair as you - indeed - came with his throbbing cock still inside you, lungs pleading for air and inner muscles clenching around him.

He collapsed on top of you, the additional weight making you realize how harsh the desk’s smooth surface was on your back, yet you cupped his face and stroked his flustered cheeks with your thumbs. 

“I missed you so much,” you breathed out as soon as you were able to.

He pulled out and started to fix his clothes, and before he got rid of the condom he planted the sweetest kiss on your lips. “I’m sorry about the other weekend. Jack wasn’t supposed to play, last minute change of plans—”

“Don’t be sorry, I know you love going to his games,” you said, propping up on one elbow to straighten yourself as he stood in front of you. “Besides, you wouldn’t want to disappoint your biggest fans, would you?”

He was still heaving a little and looked at you with a pensive pout. “... what?!”

“I mean, you’ve seriously never noticed…?” you locked your hands behind his neck as you tried to come up with a good imitation of the cooing voice of the soccer moms who you knew swarmed the sidelines every time he was present.

“Aaron, can you help us move the coolers? Aaron, we need to rearrange those chairs! Aaron, come here and have some cake! We made it for you ‘cause you’re such a good dad and it’s soooooo hot!”

He laughed, the vibrations in his ribcage making your breasts jiggle, then he gave you his best smile to date. “You’re jealous?!”

You shrugged, holding him closer. “No. To be honest I don’t even blame them, you are a good dad. Which is very hot, by the way.”

“Thank you,” he laughed again as he wrapped you in his arms to kiss you one more time, forcing you to close your eyes and get lost in his tender embrace. You muffled a surprised gasp when he playfully nipped at your earlobe with another heart-stopping smile. 

“But just to be clear…” he added, his voice dropping to a whisper, “it’s usually cookies, not cake!”

@hornyhornyhimbos

NB: I don't really have an Aaron Hotchner fic taglist 'cause I usually write about Spencer Reid but if you wish to be tagged in future Hotch-centric works (SFW or not, who knows?) you can either send me an ask or leave a comment below.

[formulapierre]

His Royal Highness | George Russell

Pairing: George Russell x Royalty!Y/N

Prompt: George settles into life as the Prince of Wales which involves starting a family and having to overcome an obstacle that nobody saw coming.

Warnings: Death, Child illness: Cancer

Word count : 4135

HRH Series: Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3

HRHPrinceofWales

Liked by BRDC and 1,492,750 other,

HRHPrinceofWales Amazing to finally be back at Silverstone after what felt like years away. Huge thanks to @MercedesAMGF1 and @WilliamsF1 for welcoming me back. Nice to see the inside of @MclarenF1's garage for the first time 😅

Deeply honoured to have been offered the role as President-in-chief of the BRDC after the passing of The Duke of Kent last year and I'm looking forward to working in motorsport once again.

BRDC The honour is all ours 😊

LandoNorris Great to see you again brother, dinner at yours right?

--- CharlesLeclerc Thats what I was told 🤷

View 1850 other comments...

“I didn’t think we’d be back here anytime soon,” George said as our driver pulled into our allocated parking space.

“Neither did I, though it definitely feels different,” You said, unfortunately you both had missed it the past few years so the last time you were here was in George’s final season.

“You won it the last time I was here,” You reminded him.

“I know, it was my favourite race of the season,” He said as the car doors were opened for you.

“Why’s that?” You ask, thanking the footman.

“Because It was my final race in front of my home crowd and apart from Abu Dhabi it was the only race you were able to attend,” He says, making you smile. 

“Why am I not surprised,” You say, rolling your eyes as He takes your hand and you start to walk towards the paddock. You swiped yourselves in before you were ushered towards the Williams garage. The Williams family had a fairly long history with your family so they were always the first stop. You loved seeing George reunite with some of the people that He raced with, seeing that racing spark reignite inside of him.

It wasn’t too long before you were saying your goodbyes to the Williams team and heading towards Mercedes. Lewis had announced that after winning his eighth championship last year he was retiring so there was a bit of a bittersweet atmosphere, knowing that this would be his last race in front of his home crowd. You and Lewis had known each other for years; first meeting at a lunch in 2009 where he had been seated between you and your father, and then when you knighted him in 2021 after He won his 7th championship.

“Lewis,” You said excitedly as he came your way.

“Y/N, George; How are you both?” He asks pulling his ear plugs out after just coming in from FP1.

“Good, excited to be back,” George says, knowing you both shared that sentiment. Lando joined you a few moments later, talking about the dinner George had decided to arrange for all the drivers and their partners at Kensington palace in a few days. Your time in Mercedes was cut short by Adam reminding you that you needed to be in the BRDC clubhouse in a few minutes.

You reached the clubhouse with plenty of time to spare. You recognised quite a few of the faces as you walked in, George seeming to know most of them properly; stopping to greet quite a few of them. Everyone took their allocated seats as the BRDC President David Coulthard stood up on the stage to give his speech.

“Thank you to everyone who managed to make it to Silverstone today. As I’m sure you are all very aware of. Mr George Russell. Or as I've been told to call him, His Royal Highness The Prince of Wales, has been announced as our new President in Chief,” He says and a round of applause moves across the room. “-and although He’s been a member since 2014 we felt we should welcome him back properly,” He adds before George gets up from his seat to give a speech he had prepared.

“Thank you David; I promise I won’t take up too much of your time. I just wanted to say thank you to you all for welcoming me back with open arms. It’s been a few years since I last raced around this track and a lot has changed since then,” George says, smiling at you before continuing. “-but racing was, and always will be a huge part of my life and I felt I had to recognise that in some way. So after the passing of The Duke of Kent it felt only right that I take up the mantle,”

Lando.jpg

Liked by PierreGasly and 490,183 others

Lando.jpg Dinner at George's new place...don't quite know if 'new' is the right word...

carlossainz55 Great night, lovely to meet the Mrs Russell properly

-- Charles_Leclerc Mate, you barely spoke to her after you got lost...

--- Lando.jpg Do you think if I stayed they would notice????

Alex_Albon Has anyone seen Lando? we were meant to be getting a cab together...

-- danielricciardo I didn't see him leave to be honest...

pierregasly Thanks for the invite brother, meet up soon 👊

Lando.jpg They found me 🥲

“They should be here,” George says, looking out the window at the drive way, anxiously tapping his foot against the hardwood floor.

“Darling, it's two minutes past seven. Take a moment and breathe,” You say, putting a hand on your husband’s shoulder.

“That’s them,” He says, completely ignoring what you said and rushing to the front door. The doors were open as the footmen had gone out to open their car doors. All of the drivers and their partners had come together so there were only six cars rather than 20, making things much quicker. You and George greeted everyone as they came in, letting Adam show them through to the dining room.

You knew a fair amount of the drivers as they had been there when George was racing; however , some of the younger ones were fresh faces to you, though George seemed to know them. Lando and his girlfriend were the last couple in, talking with you as you entered the dining room. Everyone mingled for a while, chatting to each other as flutes of champagne were handed around; George was thoroughly enjoying getting to see all of his friends again, especially in such a stress-free environment. You were enjoying yourself, getting to know a few of the younger drivers and their partners.

You were mid way conversation with Mclaren's new driver Oliver Bearman when you heard the tinking of a knife against a crystal glass. Everyone turned to look at George who was standing in the middle of the room.

“Thank you all for coming tonight, I’m well aware of how difficult it is to coordinate twenty-something schedules but it means a lot to the both of us that you could be bothered to make an effort,” He says, causing everyone to laugh. “You all look great by the way, Y/N is still trying to convince me that I look better in a morning suit than a racing suit but I feel the jury is still out on that one,” He says, teasing you. “I don’t quite think that five years ago when Lewis first introduced me to Y/N I would have believed him if He had said this is where we would be standing today. So thank you,” He says, raising his glass to Lewis. “Y/N, Darling, I know you said there was something you wanted to say,” He says and now everyone turned to look at you.

“There was; I just wanted to say thank you to all of you. Lando, Charles, and Alex especially. I know that George's decision to retire was not one he made lightly, and probably not one he would have had to make had He not known me. But you three have really made the effort to keep in touch; I can’t tell you the amount of times I’ll walk into a room and find George in fits of laughter over something you had said and it really means the world to me to see him so happy, so thank you,” You say raising your glass to the three of them. “Oh, one last thing…George has told me to tell Lando specifically that there will be no fish served tonight…nor has any of the food been near a fish,” You add and the room erupts into laughter.

“Just the way I like it,” He replies before lifting his own glass. “To George and Y/N,” He says and everyone else lifts their glasses as well. George looks at you as he raises his glass. “Question though…anyone know where I can get myself one of these?” He asks

“You mean a palace mate?” Carlos asks

“Yeah, they’re quite nice. George, do you reckon you could give us a tour? Just so I know what I’m getting myself into of course,” Lando asks and George puts his hand on his shoulder.

“After dinner I will give you the full tour I promise,” He says with a smile as everyone moves towards the table and takes their seats.

You had cut the ribbon, officially opening the new children’s hospital with a comically large pair of metal scissors. You stood with George and the directors of the hospital for some press photos before being shown inside. You greeted some of the doctors who would be making use of all the new equipment that had been installed, slowly making your way to one of the wards. You easily tuned out the snapping of cameras as the ward nurse turned to you.

“Your highness’,” She said curtsying politely. “The children are all really excited to see you, they haven’t stopped talking about your visit for weeks,” She said with a soft smile on her face.

“So these children have been here for a while then?” You ask, your heart breaking a little.

“Yes, this ward is for children currently undergoing treatment for various types of cancer so their stay tends to be much longer than usual,” She says as the door is slid open. As you step inside you are greeted by a room full of smiling faces from patients in hospital beds to siblings, parents and grandparents standing around their bedsides. The room was quite spacious with a small area in the corner with some books and toys in.

The little girl in the first bed was holding up a welcome sign that had been decorated with little tiaras and racing cars.

“We all helped,” She said looking at the other kid.

“It's beautiful, I love the glitter on the racing cars,” You say laughing a little.

“Jackson wanted racing cars so we compromised on the glitter,” She says and you look over to Jackson who just rolled his eyes. You spent your time talking to each child, answering any questions they had for you. After about half an hour George had seemed to have accumulated all of the children around one bed, talking to them about racing. Unsurprisingly, Jackson was the most vocal in the group, proclaiming He was going to be a formula one driver one day.

As He spoke to the children you took the opportunity to talk to some of the parents.

“I am in awe of you all, I don’t even know what I’d do in your positions,” You say honestly.

“We do what we have to do,” One of the fathers says. “When Tilly was diagnosed we were fortunately in a position where we could take the time off of work to be here with her, that's what matters at the end of the day,” He adds and the rest of the group seem to nod in agreement.

“He would make a great father you know,” A slightly older lady said from next to you.

“I know He would,” You reply with a smile, watching as he laughed and joked with the children, doing his best to answer some pretty complex questions about racing.

“He acts the same way my late husband did with our children, had the patience of a saint,” She adds, noticing that he kept asking the kids that were a bit quieter if they had any questions

“You were really great with those kids today,” You say to your husband as you’re getting ready for bed. “All the parents around me said that you were a natural,” You added with a smile as you pulled your pyjamas on.

“I mean there’s always been little kids in the family so I guess I grew up around them,” He says as he rests against the headboard, thumb holding open the pages of a book.

“Have you ever thought about our kids before?” You ask as you switch the main light off before climbing into bed; only Georges bedside lamp illuminating the room.

“I have,” He says with a smile. “I imagine us having three” 

“I was thinking three…” You say at the same time causing you both to laugh. “Well at least that's decided,” You add. George had slotted his bookmark in before putting the book down and turning to you.

“Did you have an idea of when you want these hypothetical children?” He asks, causing you to grin.

“I was thinking we could start trying now…” You ask, running your finger up and down his bare chest.

You threw the covers off of you as quickly as you could, rushing into the bathroom and kneeling over the toilet; you had been feeling rough for days but this was the first time something was actually threatening to come up. 

“Please let me call the doctor,” George asks as he eventually follows behind you, kneeling next to you and holding your hair.

“I’m late,” You admit to him.

“It's two in the morning, you’re not late Darling,” He says with a chuckle.

“No…I’m late, my period is late,” You clarify; it had been a few months since you had started trying so you weren’t entirely surprised when you woke up one morning feeling like this.

“Let’s get you back into bed and I’ll call for the doctor,” He says, kissing the side of your head. You stayed there for a few minutes before that bout of nausea had passed, you wiped your mouth and George helped you back into bed. He left you for a few moments to use the phone in the living room. He comes back a few moments later and sits on the side of your bed. “The doctor will be here in a few minutes and I also sent Adam out to get a few pregnancy tests,” He says, gently rubbing your leg.

“You shouldn’t have woken Adam, we could have gotten one in the morning,” You say as you wrapped the blankets around you tightly.

“Darling, it’s fine,” He says, there’s a knock on the bedroom door and George gets up to open it.

“I’m sorry to need you at this early hour Doctor,” You say as she walks in.

“It’s fine Ma’am, that’s what I’m here for,” She said with a comforting smile. You tell her how you’ve been feeling and she takes your temperature, just as there’s another knock on the door. 

“The pregnancy tests you asked for Sir,” Adam says, handing the boxes to George.

“When was your last period?” The doctor asks, making note of everything you were saying.

“Um .. about six weeks ago,” You say honestly.

“Then my professional opinion is that you need to take one of these,” She says with a slight laugh as she takes the pregnancy test out of the box and hands it to you. You take it from her and head into the bathroom. You peed on the stick, replacing the cap so nobody had to touch it. You hand it back to her and sit next to George on the bed.

“If you need anything else you know where I am,” Adam says before taking his leave. Around fifteen minutes later the doctor got up from her chair with a wide smile on her face.

‘Congratulations Ma’am,” She says handing you the pregnancy test. “I’ll leave you two alone, don’t hesitate to call for me if you have any questions,” She says before leaving as well.

“We’re having a baby,” You say quietly, staring down at the white plastic stick in your hands and the word ‘positive’ written across it.

“I love you so much,” George says ,wrapping an arm around you and pulling you in for a kiss.

KensingtonPalace

Liked by BuckinghamPalace and 3,910,582 others

KensingtonPalace It is with great joy for the palace to announce the news that their Royal Highness' The Prince and Princess of Wales are expecting their first child together.

His Majesty The King was the first to be informed of the news and is overjoyed at the news of his first grandchild.

HRHPrincessofWales 🤍🤍🤍

F1 Congratulations from your F1 family 🤍

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You made it your first mission today to tell your father; protocol stated that He should be the first to know.

“Father,” You said, knocking on the door to his private office.

“Darling, I wasn’t expecting to see you or George today,” He says standing up from his desk as you walk in, closing the door behind you.

“We didn’t expect to be here today either,” George says with a smile. 

“Right, ok, what’s going on?” He asks, inviting you both to sit.

“Do you want to?” You ask George, a confused expression still written across your fathers face.

“I can do,” He asks and you nod. “Y/n was seen by the doctor this morning, and it turns out that she is…we are, having a baby,” He explains and your fathers face quickly changes into one of joy.

“That is wonderful news, congratulations,” He says, getting up to pull you into a hug. “I’m so proud of you Y/N,” He says, placing a kiss on your forehead. He shakes George's hand before saying congratulations again. For the next few hours you spent visiting your Mother and sister before calling George’s family.

It wouldn’t be a few months until there was an official statement made by the palace, but you were both content in knowing that it was your little secret.

8 months later...

KensingtonPalace

Liked by BBCNews and 6,301,404 others

KensingtonPalace Her Royal Highness, The Princess of Wales was safely delivered of a son at 11.27pm yesterday.

The Prince of Wales was present at the birth and both Mother and baby are doing very well.

His Majesty The King, as well as other members of both families have been delivered the news and are delighted at the birth of HRH.

'After long consideration we have decided to name him Theodore and we cannot even begin to describe the amount of love we have for him' - HRH Prince of Wales

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Theodore, Theo for short, was born late last night after around 10 hours of labour. You were so grateful to George who was by your side the entire time, doing anything you needed to. He held Theo as you got dressed, zipping up your dress and slipping on the pair of heels that had been picked out for you. You had been discharged a few hours ago and due to the weather were unable to take the first photos of your new family on the steps of the hospital so it had been moved inside Buckingham Palace

George laced his fingers into yours as you walked into the hall, the flash of cameras starting as soon as they spotted you. There were probably 30 or 40 reporters waiting for you, snapping a photo every time you moved.

“Is there a name yet your highness’?” One reporter asked, His first name had been announced but not his full name. 

“There is,” You said with a smile. “Theodore Henry Philip George, but we will be calling him Theo,” You say, answering the question. You waited a few more moments before turning and heading back into the family room where both yours and George’s families were waiting to meet little Theo. Your Mum and Dad had already had their time with Theo so stayed seated, letting George’s parents coo and fuss over him. George was holding him as you took a seat on the sofa, absolutely exhausted from the past 24 hours.

You were sitting in your private gardens at home; enjoying the warm summer day. Theo, who recently celebrated his first birthday, sitting on your lap babbling at George who was sitting opposite you, waving his cuddly bear around. Theo reached out to grab it only for George to playfully rub it against his chest, erupting fits of giggles from him.

You loved the peacefulness that the last few days had afforded you, you had miraculously had no official engagements to attend to. Which was a very rare occurrence so the both of you were making the most of it. Spending as much time together and with Theo as you possibly could.

A pointed cough interrupted your peace, you looked up to see Adam. In a state you don’t think you had ever seen him in before.

“Adam, is everything ok?” You ask as George gives Theo the bear before turning around.

“Sir, may I speak to you in private for a moment?” He asks George who puts a reassuring hand on your knee.

“I’ll be back in a moment Darling,” He says before walking away with Adam. They went inside and you could barely see them through the window; all you could see was Adam putting his hand on, what you assumed, was George's shoulder. You start to bounce Theo on your knees, trying to distract yourself from whatever was happening inside Kensington. A few moments later George stepped back outside. Diana, Theo’s nanny behind him.

 “Darling, Diana is going to take Theo and then you and I are going to go for a walk,” He says, confusing you even more.

“What, why?” You ask, handing your son over.

“Please, walk with me?” He asks, offering his arm to you. You walk quietly to a more secluded area of the garden, hedge walls high enough that nobody would be able to see you. He sat you down on a stone bench before turning towards you.

“George, you're scaring me, what's going on?” You ask, voice wavering. You noticed that he didn’t try to immediately reassure you that everything was ok, instead he took your hands into his.

“Around an hour ago, your father was rushed into hospital,” He said softly, rubbing his thumb along the back of your hand. Tears welling up in the corners of your eyes, not wanting to hear what he was going to say next.

“Don’t tell me,” You beg.

“I’m so sorry Darling,” He says, swiftly pulling you into his arms, wrapping them around you tightly.

“He’s gone?” You ask looking up at him, and George just nods.

“They think it was a heart attack, He died about twenty minutes ago,” He says, holding you against him, his hand moving to stroke your hair. “I am so sorry My love,” He says again, giving you time and space to feel what you needed to feel; as He knew that as soon as you left the safety of this Garden you wouldn’t be Y/N anymore.

You spent about an hour, sitting quietly and crying into George’s chest, not wanting to face the new reality. When you finally pulled away from him he moved his hand to wipe the tears from your face. 

“Take as much time as you need, there is no rush,” He says quietly; you quickly compose yourself. Letting the fresh air remove the blotches from your tear-stained face before you slowly walked back towards the palace. Diana was sitting on the grass with Theo and quickly stood up when she saw you round the corner. 

“Your Majesty,” She said, curtsying as she held Theo in her arms. Being called that for the first time almost knocked your breath from your throat but you just smiled as She held out your Son.

“Thank you Diana, you may go now,” You say, taking Theo from her. He tried to wrap his little arms around you, almost as if He knew that something was wrong. Now it was the three of you who stood there, all in eachothers arms.

“Ma…Ma…Mama,” Theo said and both your eyes lit up.

“Yes baby, I’m your Mama,” You said, holding him close to you as a mix of happy and sad tears fell from your eyes. George was still trying to process the information from earlier so couldn’t do anything except watch as his wife interacted with their son.

“Ma’am, your car is waiting to take you to Buckingham Palace,” Adam says, interrupting the moment. 

“We’ll be there in a moment, we need to get changed first,” You say, taking a deep breath before you all head inside. As you entered your bedroom you noticed that your mourning outfits had been laid out ready for you. You both silently changed; your long floral summer dress turning into a stiff black dress and blazer. You sat on the edge of the bed as you slipped your heels on, George changing Theo into a more appropriate outfit. Next to your outfit sat a hat box, inside was a black headband with some netting to cover your face; your hands shook as you stood in front of the mirror attempting to place it on your head.

“Pass it here,” George said from behind you, you passed him the headband as He gave you Theo. He gently slid it into your hair, kissing the back of your head when He was done. You quietly headed downstairs, Theo securely on your hip as you held him. Diana had gotten changed and was ready to take Theo as He was coming with you.

The car door was opened and you climbed inside with George quickly following. You knew the drive from Kensington to Buckingham like the back of your hand, you had done it nearly every day for years; but it felt like centuries until you got there. It had obviously been released to the media as there were swathes of people outside the palace, laying flowers in front of the wrought iron gates. The official notice on an easel just inside. As you drove through the crowds of people you could see the tear stained faces, the impact that your fathers life had on his people.

You only hope you’d amount to half of that.

I hope you enjoyed pt.2! There is a part 3 currently in my drafts and that will more than likely be the final part unless I do any mini fics. Thank you all for all your love and support, - E x

[janearts]

Roisia Lydgate: Character Overview

This is really more of a background introduction to her character, but I'm trying to put as much information in one place for future reference or for anyone who wants to get a better idea of her character. Details underneath the cut!

Meta-Knowledge

Roisia is my Source Hunter from Divinity: Original Sin, but I recreated her in Baldur’s Gate 3 as a way to continue her story albeit in a completely different universe. The story and events of DOS have since become part of her backstory, and tweaked to fit the world of Faerûn.

Name Pronunciation

I’m honestly none too fussed about pronunciation. Her name is an 11th century mediaeval name that would later become “Rose” in Middle English. Roisia is probably meant to be pronounced something like /ɹɔɪːsiːɑ/ (Roy-see-ah) based on other name variants found around the same time. Her nicknames, as given to her by her parents, include: Rose, Rosie, petal, pet, rosebud, bud, so on and so forth.

Personality

Roisia is charming, adventurous, with a voracious curiosity, and a deeply analytical mind. She believes that taking care of the dead and providing a voice for the dead is her life’s calling. She was formerly raised to be a Cleric of Kelemvor, but believes that her god has disowned her since she reanimated her father. She now believes herself to be deemed among the Faithless. She’s compassionate to those in need and is willing to break rules (and the law) to help others. While she is generally a law-abiding citizen, she is dogged in pursuing the whims of her curiosity and will likewise do whatever it takes to solve a puzzle, a mystery, or a murder… or simply answer a question that has occurred to her. She is sociable, prefers when everyone gets along, and will try to talk her way into and out of most situations. This includes charming, reasoning, intimidating, and/or deceiving others to get her desired outcome. Ultimately, she finds solace and comfort in the company of animals, the dead, and books. Her favourite animal is the noble spider, and she breeds and raises some species in her spare time.

Spells and Such

I tried as best I could to replicate Roisia’s DOS character. In DOS, she was classed as a Witch. Witchcraft spells in DOS are a mixture of Necromancy spells and Enchantment spells, and I chose my spells in BG3 to imitate the ones that you get in DOS. As a witch in DOS, Roisia also had the ability to talk to animals and summon a spider. (I cheesed this in BG3 with the Find Familiar spell—technically a Conjuration spell—and having her drink a potion after every long rest.) To be more in keeping with her backstory, I gave her a Guild Artisan background and invested skill points in skills like Medicine.

Backstory

Roisia grew up in Eastway of Baldur’s Gate. Her father worked in the Gray Harbor shipyard as a shipwright and her mother was a Mortarch, running the Eastway Cemetery & Lydgate Funeral Service. She was raised to follow in her mother’s footsteps as a Cleric of Kelemvor, and specifically as a Mortarch, from an early age. She assisted her mother in managing the burial customs and rites for the Lower City’s diverse community (from embalming to ritualistic cannibalism to poisonings), comforting grieving family members of the deceased, and tending to the dead buried in the cemetery.

Her life took an unexpected turn when her father drowned during a sea trial. Grieving for her father, Roisia made her first attempt at Necromancy. She unwittingly used a wish spell in the process and reanimated him as a skeleton. Because it was the wish spell, not her first attempt at a necromantic ritual, that bound the soul of her father to his bones, Roisia is determined to master the School of Necromancy and truly resurrect her father.

She is interrupted in her early studies by the appearance of Eustace, who recruited her into the Source Hunters, an organisation dedicated to eradicating dangerous magic users (like… Necromancers). “We need you,” he said. “… and you need us.” Roisia & Eustace (or Roy & Stacey as they became known to each other) investigated the mysterious murder of a town counsellor and uncovered a Necromantic cult in the process. As they adventured together, Roisia began to develop feelings for Eustace, but as their adventure concluded and they returned to the Source Hunter Academy, Eustace did not return those feelings. Dejected, Roisia left the Source Hunters and returned to her home in Baldur’s Gate.

To “cure” herself of her heartbreak, Roisia drew up a list of lifelong goals for herself. They are:

1. A cemetery or plot of land of her own to oversee. 2. “Tenants”/”Residents” (aka The Deceased) to house and tend to on this land. 3. To master Necromancy such that she can extend indefinitely her own life and the lives of her loved ones. 4. One (1) Spouse (*not of the squeamish variety) 5. Children (*ideally 3-5)

Refocused aggressively on her list, Roisia returned to her duties during the day and her studies during the night. She was abducted by the nautiloid one night while she was off to dig up a new test subject.

Playlist

[unadulteratedsoulsweets]

A DC X DP #18

You want a taste of my brain? Okay, it's yours anyway.

Imagine dis…

This time I get inspiration from an A03 fic, and some of its parts just stuck with me and now I’m writing about it, if some of you want to read it go for it. If you are asking for the name don’t ask, I am not going to sell my soul to the devil to find it in my ever-growing history. If you do manage to find it, kudos to them.

TELL ME I AM GETTING DESPERATE OVER HERE

Credits to them as well. Also, as you’ve noticed I decided to post less, now it is due to a good old lack of inspiration. So, don’t go getting your hopes up on this one.

…

Ever since Danny Phantom had become the Ghost King he repeatedly entered the reincarnation cycle willingly to retain his morals when he was human. He still retained his ability to stay in the middle of life and death. But when he as the High King of the Infinite Realms gained immortality he found himself losing his ideals and values, he began forgetting. With Clockwork’s insistence, every few hundred years he would become human to experience a lifetime. Sometimes he would go another round in the same dimension, but only when he needed to finish an unfinished business.

Sometimes he is lucky sometimes he is not.

Sometimes he would be born into a loving family with either as the only child or him having siblings. He has experienced the life of royalty as the heir prince. He experienced the life of a knight who was known for his skills with the sword. He was born into a normal family which made him second guesses his every choice due to his lack of normality in his life. He was also born into some wild dimensions that of which could look like it came from a book. From wizards and sci-fi worlds, he never had the time to sit and be an extra.

But there were also times he was born far too unlucky. 

He was born in a salve ridden society, a parent who were core members of a rebellion so when his current parents died, he was expected to be like his parents. Born in a society where the rich trample the poor and he was forced into early child labor as expected in society to work at a very young age. Born where he and the people around him had never seen peace in a war-consumed country, a war that separated his family from each other not knowing whether one is alive or not, leaving only him and his siblings to stay alive. Being abandoned by a pair of druggies for his parents left alone inside a dumpster and died in the middle of the night, looking through the dimension he saw that some homeless people found his body and reported it to the authorities leaving his parents in jail while some prisoners seem to leave them at the near bottom of the hierarchy in prison.

…

It seems this time he was born in an assassin cult this time he wasn’t alone. A twin, an older sibling that was with him in the womb and both came into the world together. The moment he laid his eyes on his grandfather he can already tell that he is a major fruit loop from the way he both look at both of them. 

His name is too formal for his liking, Dylan Al Ghul, he already convinced Damian to call him Danny when it was just the two of them. Danny tries to downplay his abilities both ghost and human seeing that his grandfather is too power-hungry to the point of misusing ectoplasm that is corrupted but still ectoplasm to achieve some sort of immortality, he tried to give Damian a childhood in the form of showing him the stars whenever he could sneak him outside. He saw the absolute worship and awe Damian would give to their mother and their grandfather whenever they visit or supervised their training, Danny didn’t care for their approval nor their presence but seeing his brother seem to at awe and do anything to please the two made his heart shatter, his older brother never needed to prove anyone something.

Danny has repeatedly shown his disdain for the two most powerful people in the organization yet it is a miracle he still lives. It is because he is a spare, a spare yes not the heir but a useful spare one, twins one who specialized in stealth and espionage a twin who is a perfect copy of Damian aside from his eyes mirroring their supposed father. Both Talia and Ra seem to make it their life mission to drill his only purpose in his head, it may have never worked due to his adult mind but he pretended it would be as to not raise any suspicion.

…

The day Deathstroke attacked not only he dared to kill the demon head but also choose to kill the chosen heir, by removing an eye and some of his organs as a form of slow torture but also killing him as he made the organs unable to go back to their owner’s body.

Danny couldn’t look away from his bloodied brother, Talia slowly approached him from behind and put her hands on his shoulder, and whispered some honeyed words on how his role as the spare will be fulfilled at a much earlier date and promptly injected with a sleeping drug.

…

Danny was already awake when he noticed the cold metal bed behind him the lack of clothes as well the number of doctors seemingly in a rush to prepare for a last-minute surgery. He saw the unconscious form of Damian on the other side and suddenly heard the loud ticking noise of a grandfather’s clock. 

It seems that it was meant to be, Danny thought as an image of Clockwork flashed in his mind. 

He fell back asleep knowing that Damian lost an eye, kidney, a lung, some ribs as well an ungodly amount of blood, possibly more. Danny knew that this vessel of his wouldn’t survive at the sheer need and he already felt that he would not leave the room alive. So, he took one last peek at the sleeping Damian and promptly closed his eyes, the moment he opened his eyes once again he was back in his chambers in the Infinite Realms clutching his left eye in his face whilst looking at the mirror as he felt his eye be the first one to be removed.

It seems this time he died months before he and his brother celebrated their 10th birthday.

…

Damian woke up with a pounding headache being the assassin he is he immediately looked around seeing that his last memory is being tortured by Deathstroke.

He immediately took notice of his loose clothing and tried to walk towards the door but his knees immediately gave out. As he tries to gain his bearings, he noticed a scar right in the middle of his chest, it couldn’t be from the time when he was captured by Deathstroke as he noticed that this scar is too clean, too sterilized as if someone had just come out of a surgery type of scar. As he tries to loosen his shirt to take a better look at his scar when he noticed a mirror facing his way and noticed his eyes, instead of his usual pair of emerald eyes he was greeted with an emerald eye of his own and his brother’s icy blue eye in his left eye.

Damian remembered that Deathstroke took out his eye, as according to him it reminded him of the Demon head, and decided to promptly pull it out with his bare hands. 

Dread began to fill his very being and tried to go and look for his brother but deep down he already knew what happened to him after all, he is the heir while his brother his beloved younger brother is just a spare.

…

When Damian had met his father’s wards most of them commented on his heterochromia eyes and promptly greeted back with his sword in their faces.

The rest grumbled that Damian couldn’t take a tease or two, but immediately chased the demon brat as he chases each and one of them with the intent to kill.

Damian couldn’t tell them; another son was hidden from Bruce. Another son he had failed, another son who died before they could even meet him.

From the first few interactions he had with his father when he first met him, he knew where his brother’s bleeding heart came from.

Sometimes he could still see him, Dyl- no Danny, every time he looks in the mirror. The constant reminder that his brother was seen by the league as nothing but a spare. Whatever love he had for his mother disappeared the moment he laid his sight at his brother’s eye embedded in his supposed empty eye socket. 

The constant reminder that shows every time he looks at the mirror and the scar in the middle of his chest, Danny’s organs that were used on him to ensure his survival while Danny was left behind.

…

He was 14 years old when he went wide-eyed at the stranger across him and his brothers in a heavily populated area.

A teen looks exactly like him with a medical eyepatch on his left eye as he sits in a wheelchair chatting idly with an older man.

Damian heavily thought of a clone, did Talia, not mother never mother, make another clone after him after weeks of silence?

Damian still remembered the first time he encountered a clone with blue eyes, his running theory is that due to his new organs have bonded with him thus creating a batch of clones with blue eyes. Timothy had spoken up that since babies have a 50/50 chance of inheriting the colored eyes of either parent made a new branch of clones. 

Damian was already planning on disposing of the supposed clone when the said clone suddenly laughed exposing his neck that have a feign white line across indicating a scar. But that scar made Damian double guess, all clones he encountered are scarred free thus leaving him to have no trouble disposing of each and one of them but the existence of the scar he barely caught is something both brothers swore secrecy to it.

The laugh oh god, his laugh, only his brother laughs like that, Damian thought mournfully.

As he tries to look the other way, he suddenly faced the same doctor who was the assistant doctor that foresees his surgery years ago. He may have distanced himself from the League after he had fulfilled his debt but it was no mistaking that it was the same doctor that operated him that time.

A chemist they said, an insufficient man who is more cowardly than any other man yet his talent in poisons made him quite a gem in the League.

A clone who had broke out of their collective mind control? Possible, but why this clone? What made this look alike so special that this man dared to leave the League?

…

Robin began to follow the two, the other bats thought that he had a new case on his lap that requires recon. They didn’t question Robin’s new behavior as they have seen him do the same actions when he landed himself a case or when he was following a lead. Yet they couldn’t shake the feeling that something is not right, whether it is the fact that Robin refused any assistance or just the fact they have no idea what kind of case Robin is working on.

They should have listened to their guts then maybe they wouldn’t be surprised at the bat screen, showing a maternal and paternal match to a picture of a blue-eyed black-haired kid with a medical eyepatch on his left eye looking like Damian in a good day.

…

Danny was doing some paperwork when a flying thought passed by him about his last reincarnation. All memories from his adventures when he got reincarnated are usually put behind the back of his hand yet worries about the well-being of his brother made him distracted, and kept close a special one-way mirror to monitor his baby brother.

Danny felt nostalgic at the family drama and chaos that he can’t help but cackle at each interaction Damian has with their father’s adopted children and wards. He found himself majorly of his time watching for hours and hours, he can’t help but wish he was there. As if he was summoned Clockwork appeared in front of him and told him to go back, which confuses Danny since it was Clockwork who implemented that he cannot go back to the same dimension/ world if his body is too far gone to be revived by him, yet Clockwork told him to give someone named Alfred his regards and vanished. Looking bewildered at his mentor/ grandfather he tried to sense his vessel with little to no hope seeing that the League has his body, but surprises himself when he felt his own body submerged in a portion of the Lazarus pit. 

…

Going back, he was greeted by an assistant doctor that used to be in the League due to his ancestor’s debt. He explained that he cannot in good conscience do what he was instructed to after the operation, stole his body, and submerged it in an undiscovered pit due to its small size, enough to dump a child not enough for a grown adult. 

After an initial check-up, both he and the doctor discovered that the mini Lazarus pit regenerated all of his organs except his eye seeing that it was his entire body submerged excluding his head. The assistant doc theorized that those organs of his may be weaker since they were generated from nothing, Danny in all his eldritch glory as well as being the most powerful being across the Infinite Realms played his part perfectly of a now disabled child.

After all who would accuse this disabled child putting the daughter of the Demon Head in an endless nightmare by his command to Fright Knight? Who would accuse that innocent blue eye of his that he had killed any assassin in their tail ever since he and his now temporary guardian began exploring the world? Who would accuse an adorable child that he was the one who had put the Joker in a definite MIA? Who would accuse this child who smiles like the sun despite his setbacks be the one who tortured Deathstroke to the brink of insanity? Danny is pretty sure his temporary guardian knew of his secret endeavors but remained quiet due to his habit when he was in the League or just to prevent any grayer hairs from growing in. 

…

Now if only his brother stopped moping around the building across their apartment complex and just come inside, he made his infamous fudge to share with his brother. His brother didn’t have to drag the rest of the bat brigade in watching him across the building, he even made extra fudge, if only they could just go through the front door instead of rescuing him first in every rogue attack and pretend, they don’t him. Well, if they are playing a game then count him in to win. But for some reason all of them made a face of being constipated whenever they talk to him, Danny is so sure he used clean ingredients to make his fudge…

God dammit just enter the front door like a normal person, better yet tell Batman to stop looking at him as if he died! Those windows are not paying to fix themselves each time one of them decided to stop dropping and roll every other night!

…

PS: If someone out there wanted to continue or make a fic about this you are free to do so, don’t forget to tag me though.

[reno-korino]

A complete analysis of Cazador Szarr, his palace, and spawn

A week ago, I posted a Reddit thread analyzing everything to do with Cazador Szarr. I wanted to bring it here! THIS IS A VERY LONG POST, THIS IS YOUR WARNING BEFORE CLICKING. Here is the Reddit link.

--

Who is Cazador Szarr?

According to the Forgotten Realms wiki for Cazador Szarr, The Szarr family was a family of Baldur's Gate who were once wealthy merchants and farmers.

I couldn’t find any information on what year the actual Szarr family was attacked, but the information I do have is, “Long before the 15th century DR, the land that would encompass Tumbledown held a grand estate that belonged to the mercantile Szarr family. Unfortunately, every member of the Szarrs was murdered by a rival house, and their holdings were burnt to the ground.” It was unknown how Cazador survived. Maybe he organized this? After the tragic incident, Tumbledown was filled with fog. In addition, the Outer City expanded over the area, and it would become a large cemetery.

Decades prior to 1482 DR, a portion of the cliffs that surrounded the area fell away. Because of this, part of the family crypts were revealed; graverobbers seized the opportunity to plunder the tombs.

Cazador is known as Cazador Szarr 'The Avid', according to a scroll titled “Vampires before Vellioth” From this information, we can see that Cazador turned from Vampire spawn, to Vampire Lord the year 1276, and about 20 years later give or take, is when he turns Astarion into a vampire spawn. Considering the game is set in 1492, this means Cazador has been a vampire lord in Baldur Gate for about 216 years. One of Cazador's slaves, Astarion reported that he was turned into a vampire spawn almost two centuries prior to 1492 DR(1292).

Cazador is the patriarch of the Szarr family, (The head of the family) he apparently didn’t want military or political power, He likes power over people. So when he speaks, Astarion (or vampire spawn) body has to react. He apparently made vampire spawn torture themselves and each other for fun. You can interact with a bust in his palace which reads to be 'Mordic SeLanmere', the most powerful vampire king. It suggests that this might be Cazador's ancestor?

After talking/killing the Gur Gandrel, Tav can talk about the night Astarion met Cazador, and you’re able to call out that it was convenient Cazador just happened to find him. Astarion will deflect and claim he probably was found because of the smell of blood. When you do ask Astarion if you should be worried about Cazador hunting you down, he says you should always be aware, but Cazador was never one to actually leave the city ever. (get a life, Cazador.)

Astarion only assumes Gandral works for Cazador, which is false. If you give Astarion up, he'll be held at the Gur camp, where everyone will be slaughtered in Act 3 by Cazador, and Astarion will go back to the Palace as a zombie.

If you don't kill the Gur Gandrel, you actually find out that his two children were part of the 7,000 spawn trapped by Cazador. Sparing Gandrel, and the rest of the 7,000 spawn will let you briefly talk to him, and his two now vampire spawn children,

Cazador has some beef with the Gur (Obviously since he steals their children) because the werewolves that fight you are ‘Fallen Gur Hunters’. At the party, we can also see the werewolves that fight you are from the Hhune family. There’s a ‘Chatterteeth’ that fights alongside Cazador, who is, like Godey, a pair of bones. I’m not sure what Cazadors affinity is for werewolves, maybe its his twilight fantasy of Edward x Jacob?

On Astarion Ancunín

Astarion's age of death is 39, rather young for elves. His grave reads: 229 - 268 DR 498 DR. This Reddit thread gives good information.

Astarion was turned into a vampire by Cazador Szarr in the year 1292DR. Before he was a vampire, Astarion was a magistrate. A magistrate judge is a judicial officer of the district court and is appointed by majority vote of the active district judges of the court. A group of vagrants, a group called the Gur beat Astarion to deaths door when they took issue of a ruling Astarion made. It is there Cazador 'saved' him with the choice of 'life' or 'bleeding to death in the street'.

It isn’t said if Cazador made/let/stopped Astarion from continuing to be a magistrate. Since Cazador saved Astarion from the Gur, he ‘chased them off’ and turned Astarion into a vampire. I think it would be interesting if there was some sort of political move since a large opinion is that Cazador organized the attack. Perhaps there was an issue with Cazador's status?

-- My theory about Astarions family

In another comment, someone suggested Astarion might be from elsewhere instead of being born in the city. The idea he came to Baldur Gate because he wanted to pursue bigger things and become a Magistrate seems in character without having to add in his family, but you'd think he'd be concerned about his family and vise versa? Unless Astarion had bad blood with them.

At the end of the day, for his main 7 spawn, it doesn't make complete sense to have them be born and raised in Baldur Gate with a full family, since that's way too many connections. Too many distractions when they're out getting marks, and too many opportunities for Cazador to be exposed. Since there are 7,000 spawn created by Cazador, but only 7 that he 'keeps', so there has to be some sort of reason.

Were they the most beautiful? Alluring in his eyes? Or perhaps, the most charismatic, or did they have the least amount of connections that could come back to bite him? Surely, there has to have been one incident. Wouldn't that be interesting if there was at least one spawn we don't know, that used to be of the original 7, but was 'taken out' because a family kept asking too many questions?

*-- *

Cazador, on making Astarion vampire, also made him crawl out of his own grave.

“Nearly two hundred years and I never came back. Not since the night I woke up down there. I had to punch a hole in the coffin and clew my way through six feet of dirt. Then when I finally broke the surface, retching up first and congealed blood, Cazador was waiting.”

It's unclear if Cazador gave all the spawns the same treatment, but my opinion is he did this to send a direct message to Astarion. Astarions grave is in the Thorass alphabet, Showing that his last name is Ancunín. The only way to get to this grave is during a dialogue scene at the end of "The Pale Elf" quest, widely considered the 'good ending' in which the player does not let Astarion ascend. Asended Astarion will not bring you to the grave, and can not be found when in the cemetery in the city.

Astarion also mentions when talking about being turned into a vampire about how painful it was, saying, "I remember how it hurt when I turned into a vampire. My body writhed and warped while I was utterly helpless, the grip of death owned my heart as it beat its last."

In earlier patches, Astarion mentions how he begged Cazador to be turned instead. This is old though, so I wouldn’t say this is reliable.

Astarion does also say in a voiceline that:

"The mindflayers weren't my first kidnapping. A long time ago, I crossed Cazador, a powerful man in Baldur's Gate."

Astarion would bring the people for Cazador, he’d tease Astarion by asking him if he’d like to dine with him, and if Astarion said yes, he’d get a rat(girl dinner). If he said no, he’d have Astarin flayed.

There is also Astarions worst memory, when he was sealed, buried alive for a year. If you ask him about it in Act 3, he talks about how in his first decade, he found a darling boy that he couldn’t bring back to Cazador. So Astarion ran and disobeyed. Cazador caught him and sealed him up, starved him inside a dusty tomb for a year. He claims,

“A year of silence. Months of scratching my hands raw, trying to carve my way out. More months of not moving at all. Months wishing only for death.”

Astarions Brothers and Sisters, the Seven Spawn

It seems Cazador has his main seven spawn, Astarions ‘brothers and sisters’. Seems like Cazador had a real, manager-in retail type mentality and claimed they were ‘all a family’ even while he was carving scars into their flesh. To note, I’m not sure why the only scars Astarion DOES have are the ones on his back. Apparently, Astarion was ‘one of his firsts’ which signals that Astarion might be the second spawn? The rest came years later, but took a special interest in Astarion for his ‘sweet sounds’. Astartion does seem to have some sort of survivor's guilt for them. It isn't ever specified who came first, or who was the most recent.

The respective spawn names are: Leon, Aureila, Yousen, Violet, Dalyria and Pale Petras

They all have the same stats. The demographic is:

Female (3/7) - 43 %

Male (4/7) - 57 %

With 1 Tiefling(Aurelia), 1 Halfling(Yousen), 3 elves(Violet, Astarion,Dalyria), and 2 humans(Pale Petras, Leon) - This is based on observation, I could be wrong!

Their eyes will be glowing red, which means they are under the influence of Cazador. This applies to all the spawn. Once Cazador is dead, their eyes stop glowing.

When Leon and Aurelia confront you at the inn (and attack you), Aurelia claims Cazador knew where Astarion was the entire time, likely watching us from the shadows.

Cazador apparently promised the 6 vampire spawn that he’d set them free. You can learn more about Pale Petras, where he wants to bring back one more person so when he is ‘free’, he will have someone to drink dry right off the bat. Dalyria doesn’t seem to humor the idea and instead wants to leave in fear of angering Cazador by being late, BUT interestingly enough, the vampire spawn are out in the day in a tavern, which means they are hunting day AND night? Considering how Astarion talks to Pale Petras, it's clear that they don’t really get along too well.

When you meet the spawn slave, after succeeding on a perception check, you notice on all 7,000 spawns, "Beneath the first and blood, you notice that every prisoner has a rune carved into their flesh." What is interesting, is it only looks like Sebastian is the only one with these marks. I looked at all the other spawn NPCS and couldn't find anything visible. The runes marked into Sebastian also look kind of fresh, so this perhaps was a recent thing? Unless I'm reading the scars wrong, but from how Astarion talked about his scars, it doesn't sound like he was given them as soon as he was turned into a vampire spawn.

As for the appearance of the other spawn, I can chalk it up to the models not being completely finished with the runes, I suppose… Either that or Tav can see under people's clothes…. kinda weird!

More on Cazador and Baldur Gate

According to Astarion, Cazador is just another ordinary noble in Baldur City. He says that Cazador is a little reclusive perhaps, but just another ‘the great and good’ of Baldur’s Gate. He apparently has a grand palace on the hills of the Gate, where he hosts the city’s high society. This makes me wonder, since there is a ballroom in Cazador’s palace if he hosts all these large high society balls. Astarion wonders if Cazador would risk exposure by doing it at the palace, signaling that Cazador at least, does care for his image.

When your character is a Baldurian, you can ask, “That giant gothic monstrosity has been inhabited by vampires this entire time?” So at least the citizens of Baldur Gate can see how out of place it is.

The Szarr Palace has a palace south tower and ramparts. He has city guards charmed guarding the entrance. It also has a garden and beautiful architecture. The Szarr palace colors are teal and red. My analysis of the building is linked.

The dialogue from Astarions origin character playthrough when he has a nightmare about Cazador:

Spoken like a true old bitch:

“First, thou shelf not drink of the blood of thinking creatures.”

“Second, thou shalt obey me in all things.”

“Third, thou shalt not leave my side unless directed.”

“Fourth, thou shalt know that thou art mine.”

Cazador keeps all the spawn underground in cages. When meeting Sebastion in the cages, you tell Sebastion he’d been down there for “One hundred and seventy years. You were one of my first, too.” This means either the “200” years is more 175 years, or he might not have gone out to get spawn for around ~15 years. It could also mean Astarion sees the 15 years as a short period of time, which would make sense.

Astarion thinks that Cazador hired the Gur to find Astarion in Act 1, and the Gur does not know what Cazador really is. If you give Astarion up and go to Cazador in the future, he will ask you if you’re the one who “took my poor Astarion under your wing, only to abandon him so cruelly?”

What’s really interesting, if you interact with Astarion in the ritual, he’s a zombie, unlike his other spawn. Could this be because he was tortured by Cazador, flayed?

When you read Cazadors mind after killing him without Astarion, it seems Cazador has nightmares of “The boy I was, the man I became, the monster that will not end. I sleep, but cannot rest, I live, but cannot die. I am eternal, and I grieve.” I say shut the fuck up, Cazador.

Obviously, Astarion meeting Cazador in the current up to date patch(9/7/2023) , he’s very demeaning. Man rolls his r’s like he’s still in the fucking renaissance. He claims Astarion is still his even if he can resist his words. He waves around his stupid little staff, but his magic is still strong enough to grab Astarion into the ascension ritual even if you roll a nat 20 to resist.

On talking to Astarion about coming home :

Cazador seems to have mortal servants walking around the palace. The Servants aren’t charmed, but they are ‘fanatics’ as Astarion claims, “Here of their own free will, and utterly devoted to Cazador.” He says, “Each one came to our door and begged to be given his ‘eternal gift’. They’re sure he’ll turn them if they serve him well enough” whatever the fuck that means.

What I can gather from this information is, that people do know that Cazador is a vampire lord, but obviously not everyone. It's like the well-kept secret that isn’t a secret because Astarion claims earlier that Cazador wouldn’t want to do the ritual at the Palace for fear of exposing himself. If anyone else has any clarification that Cazador is a known vampire, please, I'm all ears.

The servants seem to be obsessed with keeping the place clean, making sure it's ‘pure’. But that’s kind of hard considering there are BATS flying around everywhere in this palace. I can't tell if they are paid at all, either, they are just there freaked out trying to be the best they can so they can be the next vampire spawn. It also makes me wonder, why doesn't Cazador just turn these people into spawn? Is he afraid to scare staff away when they vanish because they begged at Cazadors door for vampirism? How on earth did they find this out? What on earth is Cazadors title to these people, is he a lord even if the public doesn't know he's a vampire lord?

All the text in Cazadors Palace Explained, and rooms explained

[ALL THE TEXT FOUND IN CAZADORS PALACE]

Chamberlain Dufey

In the Chaimberlain's private quarters, we find Chamberlain Dufey’s dead body in a casket. The Chamberlain is responsible for managing the household of nobles, so Dufey would have managed the household for Cazador. It's suggested by a private note left by Dufey’s Werewolf GF that he killed himself via poison, and so she Romeo and Juliet herself and killed herself as well.

You can find his diary on the bed on the floor, and we find out that Dufey killed himself because he found out about Cazador's ritual, because Cazador wanted Dufey to be the stand-in for the missing Asterion. He even calls Astarion a brat! Ironically enough, his poison is just enough to slow his heart and he isn’t actually dead, so his lover found him and killed herself in return. True poetry. Dufey hopes that once Cazador ascends, he can leave since Cazador won’t need his management anymore. This suggests that Dufey is a prisoner in one way or another. He is, a vampire spawn interestingly enough.

Godey

Cazador would throw the spawn into a ‘kennel’ when he was displeased with the vampire spawn. This is hidden by an illusion, that Astarion claims is one of his regular, cheap tricks.

Godey is a pair of bones that is under Cazador's control. He claims to be doing his job and to ‘keep him(astarion) in line.” He apparently tortured the spawn for days at a time, and Godey seemed to enjoy the screaming.

Spawn sleeping quarters

The vampire spawn seemed to live in a ‘dormitory style’ living, inside the dormitory wing. He has two rooms, “spawn dormitory” and “favorite spawn”

You can find Violet's diary, where she says the ‘garlic in Yousen's bed gave him a nasty rash’ which signals that vampires can’t handle garlic. It also shows that Violet is a little shit and makes life hell for the other spawn… a true sibling. Leon has a daughter named Victoria, but Cazador seems to ‘have a little plan for her.’

There is also a blood ledger from Dufey, who states the rules of what type of people Cazador wants to be picked up. Most notably, to focus on the lower class. He chastises them for picking up three people from wealthy families because their families of course are wondering where the as fuck they went. The goal is not to attract unwanted attention and to avoid aristocrats, even if they are out slumming in the lower city.

Favorite Spawn

The ‘favored spawn’ room is a lot more grand, with nice beds that don’t stack on a bunk bed. I wonder if Astarion was a bottom or top bunk?

It turns out when looking at the favorited spawn list, it mostly is Leon, with Violet taking only one year. When you read Leon's diary though, we find out he’s working so hard because he has a daughter named Victoria. Leon writes, “I've had to be his best hunter just so I could stay here with my daughter and keep her away from the other spawn. I don’t like the way Violet looks at her, not at all!”

So it seems that Cazador let the other spawn family stay with them unless Victoria is an outlier… But while they are ‘siblings’, they still do not get along. Either that or Violet is just a bitch. That being said, Leon also writes, “When I ask the master what he plans to do with Victoria, Cazador just gives me that wicked smile.” He writes that he is working together on a plan to disguise Victoria so she can escape. She’s a human girl running around, and her father even writes her a note to learn the ancient language book that is in the guest room so she can move around freely in the mansion. This means there was a KID running around the palace. A HUMAN KID.

You can also find a list that Victoria made, which seems focused on the number '17' for some reason.

What I’m gathering is, that Cazador is wicked and sick- of course, we knew that. But poor Leon, protecting his daughter? All of this is to say- Victoria is dead in the guest room. She’s covered by necrotic magic.

Astarion claims he has brought people to this guest room before.

Dalyria

In the guest room, we get to find Dalyria’s diary. It claims she was a Doctor, and Physician General to the Parliment of Baldur Gate. She claims she will always be a Doctor, despite what Cazador did to her.

She says that a “massive infusion of fresh, youthful blood may overwhelm the vampirism infection and enable my body to heal” and points out that Victoria is the pureblooded daughter of Leon. This seems to indicate that she thinks that vampirism is a blood-affected thing, and can be cured one way or another.

Leon was apparently a sorcerer before he became spawn, and warned everyone to not bite her since he booby-trapper her blood in case of an attack. So… considering she is letting out necrotic energy, I assume that Dalyria tried to bite her because she assumed Leon was lying.

When you try to Speak with Dead on her, it seems her answers don’t line up too well with the actual journal entries. She says that Dalyria lured her with the promise of food and shelter and she was bit by her, and then Dal was dragged away by Cazador, and Victoria was eventually killed by him.

A question I have is, with a daughter so young, and Leon has been on the favorite spawn list for so many years, did he have this kid when he was a vampire? She looks like she’s only 10 or younger, so he either had to have her at the Palace when she was a baby or he somehow got someone pregnant.

The Ballroom

When you enter the ballroom, the people on the floor are called guests. So I can assume there was some party, and then the werewolves were called to rip everyone up. On the body of a woman named Sanseverina, she’s carrying a note that says. *“Sansy, I've been invited to a party at the Szarr Palace tonight in their ballroom. Show the chamberlain at the door this note and he’ll let you in to join me. Wear your best dress!” - Callira (*Sansy was not indeed, wearing a dress at all.)

Callira can be found in what I assume is the cigar room dead on the floor. She holds a note from Dufay that she is requested by Cazador to play music at the party.

Using "Speak to Dead" on one of the dead party members on the floor, we find out that one of them is named "Sterlac", a Senior Clerk in the Counting House. He was invited to the party, and claims he was enjoying the party, drinking and talking. When you ask him what he was talking about, he says,

"Work… Counting House… Who controls what. Wanted names of senior staff… families… any scandals, secrets…"

He also says that at the party, the guests were politicians, minor nobles, fist officers, 'all sorts'. Cazador wanted information, he apparently asked them all a lot of questions about the power structures in the city, the weaknesses, and the type of people Cazador should look at controlling.

Cazador apparently took the most beautiful people away from the party, and they were never seen again. According to Sterlac, after Cazador left, werewolves came to the party and made the guests their little afternoon snack. From what I can gather, it does seem that Cazador has his foot in the door pretty heavily in politics, if he's using clerks for their information about staff and…. scandals.

I'm assuming this random attack of wolves is in reference to the 'grand feast' Dufay writes about in his party planner diary you'll find in Cazador's office.

What my takeaway is, that people in political power, at least of use to Cazador, know he is a vampire. But it isn't generally common knowledge, even when Tav comments on the vampire-filled manor, and Astarion jokes back that its "subtle, isn't it?"

Dufay also orders the guards on the wall to make sure they're vigilant and that the staff are silent and never speak. This shows that Cazador’s reach goes all the way to the guards. Dufay does note that “If you encounter the mater, stand still and cast down your eyes with dereference. The master likes to be respected.”

Oh. and no whistling, of course.

What is the puzzle under Cazadors Palace?

The puzzle under Cazador Palace can be entered via the cigar room. Me, and so many people have concluded this is simply an unfinished room since I tried to do just about everything to get this to work.

I back my theory up because this is the only location in Cazadors Palace that isn't marked as dangerous and allows the player to long rest and travel by waypoint etc.

Venturing further, we can find a confession from one of Cazador's captives, where they confess their transgressions. This is from someone named Dawson Kiltmaker, who claims they cheated on the city accountants' certification test. Since Dawson suspects he is going to die, he is using the journal to rid himself of sins so he can die with his soul a little lighter. He also claims that Cazador gloats, so it's confirmed that Cazador at least, fucks with the prisoners mentally. There are a lot of dead bodies so it can be assumed sometimes, Cazador just keeps people / kills them instead of turning them.

Cazadors Office Area / Family / Attic

Cazador's office is directly linked to the ballroom named the “Office Hall”

There’s a party planner on the desk that Dufay used to plan Cazador's gatherings. The ballroom functions are divided into two categories - Invited guests and involuntary guests, which are the entertainment for the latter category being considerably more sinister than the former.

So what I can assume is … There are other vampires invited or others invited of different types of morality that use or torture the second category? Thats wild. Cazedor also planned a ‘final feast’ that Dufey had to organize, which involved invited and involuntary guests…

Cazadors desk has Starbrt Shandy, a Carafe of wine, and Cagulated blood. He also seems to keep up with the news since articles are on his desk and a book about Baldur City's history. Cazador's entire office is just… blood and wine. Dude parties non fucking stop. There is also a book on the upper city and the lower city.

The Dais is the elevator down into the dungeon, Astarion had no idea it was there. He said Cazador brought his victims there, so it can be assumed that Astartion at least dragged the person to Cazador's office before they were brought to the second room down the elevator… Imagine how scary that would be.

There's a bust of Shyressa Runemaster as well, a vampire in 1360 DR. It should be noted, there's so many bottles of wine in this fucking estate. Does NOBODY drink water???

Cazador's Niece

In the attic, we actually get entries from Cazador's family from the year 1477. Amanita Szarr, Cazadors ‘niece’ claims she didn’t know that Cazador was a vampire. She claims she had no idea that her family were vampires, so it confirms that the Szarr family at least has some nonvampires and a long line of vampires.

She grew up on the country estate near Anga Vled was raised by servants, and hardly ever visited the city palace in Baldurs Gate. It noted she hated visiting, and that the Palace straddles the wall between the Upper and Lower City. In the year 1477 when she was 13, Cazador personally summoned her, and she was brought by carriage. Dufey greets her and brings her to the ballroom, and It is here that Cazador forcibly turns her into a vampire in the torture room above the ballroom. She was imprisoned in the attic by someone named Bolvart for trying to resist being a vampire, and she eventually succumbed and drank human blood. They kept her in the attic starving for an entire year and eventually sent up a bound captive, which she killed. So Amanita decided to stay up in the attic for the rest of her life calling herself Lady Incognita.

Amanita later wrote a book describing blood diseases claiming that there is something that can infect vampires with a brief illness. It's called “Red Thrombosis and Thandals Paroxsym”. Vampires should be able to recognize this before they even bite people if they are trained. Do you hear that, Astarion lovers? It's time to write Astarion is sick fanfiction. Or.. maybe, Cazador is fucking ill and everyone points and laughs.

So even those who survived the Szarr massacre still get hunted down by Cazador to become vampires it seems. Cazador leaves no stone unturned, but it makes me wonder how many other surviving members there had to have been. Obviously, Cazador has siblings if he has a niece.

Cazadors Corner

Going down into Cazador’s dungeon, there is a list with thousands of names from Baldur City, which can be assumed the sibling's victims.

There is Cazador's journal, which records the movements and actions of his spawn. He seems REALLY interested in Astarions, noting his every order, failure, and punishment.

He says, “Astarion failed to return from his hunt this night. Godey Informed. He will have the pliers ready when the boy shows himself again.”

Cazador starts to say how upset he is that Astarion is missing and that he wants to make Astarion scream. So then, Cazador starts to torture his siblings to find Astarion since he’s been missing for days. He then notes that when Astarion interacts with his siblings in Wyrms Crossing, Astarion is able to stand in the sunlight and bolds that he’s able to disobey Cazador. Dude is fucking upset writing in his diary. This obviously won't appear if you don't ever interact with Pale Petras and Dal.

In another book, Cazador writes about how he’s concerned about Lord Gortash because of his new steel watch, wondering if they’d mess with his vampire spawn and how he operates….

Cazador has a letter he writes to Mrel Alkam, who I suppose leads their own vampire circle in another region called “Athkatla” which is apparently more homogeneous than Baldurs Gate. He tells Alkam to enjoy his success while he has it because he plans to surpass him. He also says that he’s been long content with being a major city’s vampire lord. This signals that Cazador is not the only vampire lord out there, of course, but he’s feeling inferior.

Cazador essentially is writing this hatemail like, You might think you’re so cool and special with your vampires, but just you wait, I'm about to become cooler AND more popular. (For the record, Cazador slept in a twin-sized bed, so he was getting NO bitches.)

Looking into Athkatla further, we can find that this is the "City of Coin" , a location in BG2. There is a whole vampire coven in Athkatla, which players are able to interact with in BG2.

Under Cazadors corner, you can also find a scroll written by Lady Incognita that it was Donnela Szarr, Vellioth's original Vampire master, explaining how she was the one that opened the halls that Cazador uses as his dungeon. Apparently, they were built by mining dwarves who were exiles from Bhaerynden and seemed to be more of an outpost abandoned with time. Donnela questions, what was being mined here? It's questioned by Lady Incognita that it's unusual the halls were never discovered under Baldur's Gate, and they could have been deliberately hidden.

Cazadors previous vampire master, Vellioth

Vellioth - A skull with a scroll clamped in its teeth. This is Cazador's previous master, a cruel man.

His first lesson: “Is to always dominate. Allow none to be your equal.”

“Vellioth recalls when Cazador reached out to a former friend. His punishment was to watch as Vellioth drained his friend dry.”

His second lesson: “Power comes from solitude. To share with others is to be weak, and to be weak is to fail… and die.”

"Vellioth recalls when Cazador rebelled against him. Cazador suffered eleven years of impalement… because he failed."

(For the record, this is fucking horrific. It's such a hard juxtaposition AND parallel between him and Astarion.)

His third lesson: “Act not in haste. A near immortal has time to plan, time to act when others will pay the price of action.”

“Vellioth recalls Cazador, his lesson learned, killing him in the Rite of Perfect Slaughter. How they both laughed! Vellioth recalls Cazador boiling the flesh from his skull and then, to mock him, clamping his Schooling Scroll in Vellioth's jaws.”

(I couldn't find any information about the Rite of Perfect Slaughter)

Vellioth

As for Vellioth, he is known as Vellioth the Martinet. A Martinet is a strict disciplinarian, especially in the armed forces. He ruled from 1204 - 1276(72 years). A lot shorter run than most, but overall rather average considering. Vellioth’s master was Donnela Szarr the Architect, which makes me wonder if Vellioth was actually his family. There are only two Szarr names on the list of vampire lords, including Cazador and Donnela.

Here are the recent 5 stats:

Cazador Szarr - 216 years

Vellioth - 72 years

Donnela Szarr - 66 years

Hideous Gathwycke - 119 years

Failbleur the Fleeting - 0 years

The average amount of years in Cazador's recent 5 history of Vampire Lords is about 94.6 hours, with Cazador holding the highest number. When calculating the numbers for all listed, the average is 80 years, with Cazador taking the gold medal for longest in ruling.

My general opinion on why Cazador is most obsessed with Astarion is not only looks, but because I wonder if he also sees himself in Astarion- Cazador rebelled and pulled against Vellioth, so maybe he punished Astarion as Vellioth punished him for being bad.

Astarion will note that Cazador can’t be original for once and stole his own rules from Vellioth.

I think it's really interesting to see this side of the story, because when you ascend Astarion it feels like he kind of becomes the next Cazador, and this shows that Cazador was also in the same vicious cycle of abuse. Not that anything Cazador did was ever acceptable, but it's an interesting angle.

You do have choices to break this cycle or continue it. If you convince Astarion to not go through with it, he will thank you for believing in him.

On letting Astarion Ascend, he will sadly continue the cycle of abuse it kind of feels, not letting you break up with him at the end of the game. He laughs and calls you stupid, and says,

“You’re mine, remember?”

It's a sad reminder- Cazador is a cruel, vicious, and unredeemable person, but was also once a person, likely with some sort of light in his eyes… only to be shut down by abuse from his master, which makes his character so interesting.

Astarions Victims

From the four older captives that Astarion has brought, there is Sebastian, Wensleydale, Hapdim, and Gondlemead. Only Sebastion can speak. For…. research purposes, they do not react to being attacked.

For the children, it seems Cazador specifically ordered Astarion to capture them. This can only be assumed because they are the children of the Gur. When you kill Cazador, before leaving, you'll be confronted by Ulma, a leader of the Gur tribe. They are upset that Astarion stole their children, but seeked Astarion out when they find out he fled and somehow betrayed Cazador in hopes they could recruit Astartion.

There also does seem to be a back entrance to the dungeon from the sewer. Who knows how often that was used since there is a scene with a girl who was meeting up with a ‘silver-haired’ man who told her there was going to be a party when you reach Act 3.

Why didn't Astarion bite Cazador?

I wish I had a good theory for this, but I really don't. So, the only thing I have that could be something is Astarion mentions:

"In theory, the next step is to drink their blood. Once you've done that, you're free and a true vampire."

But he follows up by saying that it doesn't happen because vampires are the true natural enemies of another vampire. I read something someone said that maybe the vampire has to be willing to let the spawn bite him, but that doesn't make sense since Cazador didn't seem all that willing to be stabbed to death. If the tadpole can protect him from Cazador's grip, it should be able to allow him to bypass that stipulation.

So, at the end of the day, I think we can assume this is some plot hole. Either that or Astarion is thinking about it the next day after he rejected ascension and realizes, 'Wait fuck!' ​

My questions about Cazador…

I would love to know more about his Palace and why it was built/bought in such a weird spot?

How long Cazador has been a vampire?

Do the citizens of Baldur City know Cazador is a vampire lord? Or is it, if you know you know?

How long ago was the Szarr family massacred, and how many really survived? What was his family like?

How did Cazador meet Vellioth?

What is his fucking problem with Astarion?

What is his title? Is he referred to as 'my lord'?

Is he seen as a Patron to his spawn by the public?

What was the most surprising fact you learned?

[oddballwriter]

The New Teacher’s Aid

꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦

Summary: Mike has Abby signed up to be part of the after school program at her school since he can’t pick her up due to him working, there’s nothing too special about it until a staff member catches his eye and he tries to explain it without thinking the obvious. 

Warnings: Reader is kept gender neutral and is a teacher’s aid and member of the staff that work in the after school program. This is in second person perspective at first but shifts at times. “Y/n” is used two times in here. Mike has a crush on you lol. I actually can’t think of many things that are actual warnings but if there are any just let me know

Author’s Snip: Surprise! I’m alive! I’ve been relaxing since I took the summer semester off to unwind from my first year of college. Anyways, I’m sure some, if not most, of us have seen the teaser and trailer for the FNAF movie. I’ve been seeing people going bonkers over Mike and William and so have I a little. This thought came to me last night and I wanted to write it so bad but it was 2am then and I had things I needed to do with family so I wrote it down in my notes so that I didn’t forget. 

Notes: This is sort of meant to be before Mike takes up the job at the abandoned plazeria. And I just saw that there are some implications that Abby walks/rides a bike home to and from school but I’m just going to ignore that because I can and because then this shot doesn’t really work. So yeah. 

I’ll shut up now. Enjoy! And don’t be afraid to request.

꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦

  You’ve been working at the school for a month and a half now as a teacher’s aid and an additional member of the staff that work in the after school program. The program wasn’t much if you had to be honest, it was pretty much just babysitting kids who didn’t get picked up once school was over. 

  You weren’t complaining though, but then again, you worked in the spare classroom with the older kids rather than the younger ones. This group wasn’t too much of a hassle. Usually these kids would talk, do their homework, or some quiet activity and rarely cause any trouble. That’s how you met a little girl named Abby. 

  Abby was like the other kids who minded their own till their parent or guardian came to pick them up. You noticed that she didn’t interact with any of the other kids and either drew or did her homework quietly at a desk. You decided to check on her. Now you two have formed a really nice bond. You usually help her with her homework or talk about whatever comes to mind which helped pass the time since she was one of the kids that stayed the whole time the program operated. 

  Speaking of which, it was rolling around that time. You knew that the person who usually gets her is always here when the clock hits  five pm but it always makes you a little worried that they won’t come since after five there wasn’t meant to be any students still on campus. 

  “Okay, last one. What do you think?” you say, you were helping Abby finish up a tricky math sheet. Abby stared at the problem for a moment and worked it out on a blank space next to it before writing down the answer she came up with. “There you go! Great job. Now you’re all done, you don’t need to do any at home.” you smile. Just then you hear a knock at the door to the room. When you turn, you see a man in his mid twenties or early thirties standing in the doorway. You stand up to go talk to him but you hear Abby chirp “Hi, Mike!” to the man. He gives her a nod as a hello back as you grab a clipboard and walk up to him. 

  “Hello. Can I get a name?” you ask. This was common check out protocol whenever someone came to pick up a child from the program. “Mike Schmidt.” he responds. You nod and check the name that’s correlated with Abby, it checks out. “And the password?”, that was another part of the protocol. He says the correct one and you smile with a nod before letting him sign his name as the last part of the process. 

  By then Abby had already packed up her things and skipped over to Mike and took a hold of his hand to leave. “Goodbye, Abby!” you wave. She waves back with some more energy to it, “Bye, (y/n)!”. You give a wave back to Mike as well out of courtesy, “Goodbye, Mr. Schmidt.”. He gives you a small wave goodbye too as he leaves with Abby by his side. 

  With Abby gone home, you were set to pack everything in the classroom so that you could leave. You usually did this earlier but the other staff member went out and hadn’t come back yet, so you needed to keep an eye on Abby. Usually they checked Abby out to Mike, who you were told was her older brother, so she could go home. But since they still weren’t back, you met him for the first time. You were a bit surprised to finally see him. He was actually older than you thought he would be. The age minimum for someone who could pick up a child was sixteen and that Mike met that requirement, but you thought that he would be younger. Turns out he’s around the same age as you.

  Abby actually told you a lot about Mike. As already mentioned, he was her older brother. She also told you that he works and that the two of them live together. She’s also told you about how cool he is but that’s a given since most younger siblings think that their older siblings are cool. 

  You didn’t think too much about Mike after that, but strangely enough, Mike spent a good part of the evening thinking about you.

  “Are they a new staff member? I don’t think I’ve seen them before.” Mike asked Abby while she picked at the reheated veggies on her plate. “No, not really. They’ve been here for a while.” Abby responded. “They seem nice.” he mentioned. “They are. They help me with my homework and we talk. They even said they like my drawings!” Abby explained with a smile. “ Well, that’s nice to hear.” Mike said as he got up from his seat at the table. “You finish those off before you try and watch TV, alright?” he said with a little bit of demand as he pointed to the uneaten food on her plate before heading off to get ready for the rest of the night. 

  Soon after that, Mike had formed a habit. Everyday, just before getting out of his car to go pick up Abby, he would check himself in his rearview mirror. He would subconsciously fix any loose hair, fix up his jacket to look neater, or check for food in his teeth. He didn’t know when it started but he noticed it when he was fighting with a piece of food from his lunch earlier that day that didn’t want to leave it’s spot between his teeth. “Why am I even doing this? It’s barely noticeable.” he thought to himself. But something irked him to get it out before he got out. 

  After he finally got the pesky piece out, he stepped out of his car and made his way to the classroom that the program was held in. Abby noticed him but the staff member who came to check her out to him wasn’t you. After he gave all the information, signed, and took Abby’s hand, he found that he felt slightly disappointed that it wasn’t you this time and thought that he fought that food between his teeth for nothing. 

  The drive home consisted of silence as Abby stared out the window and Mike stewed in his thoughts on why he wanted see you every time he came in. It shouldn’t matter if it’s you, or the new teacher Miss Hill, or the old teacher Mrs. Flores, or someone who was a part of that group. 

  “Did you have fun with (Y/n) today?” Mike asked as he peaked at Abby in the rearview. Why did he ask that? “Yeah. I didn’t have a lot of homework so we spent most of the time talking while I drew.” Abby responded. “What did you talk about?” he questioned. “Not much. They talked about being a teacher’s aid and how they want to be a school teacher.” Abby commented, Mike nodded his head. “I talked about us a little. I told them that you work and take care of me.” she explained, “And they said that’s really nice of you to be doing both.” Abby referenced. Mike thought about that for a second. “Did they?” he responded. 

  The rest of the evening and night went on as normal. But Mike found that he didn’t really pay attention to the late night TV like he usually does. He was caught up on what Abby said today about you. Mike tried to brush it off but just couldn’t, and he didn’t like it all that much. It made him feel dumb. Why was he so consumed with what you thought of him, with Abby saying that you think he’s nice for taking care of his little sister and being their breadwinner and him recently starting to care about how he looked under the possibility of you and him seeing each other while he got Abby. 

  There was no way he had some stupid crush on you. You were just some staff member who took care of Abby after school and he was just her older brother. That’s all you should be to each other. 

  He thinks that while also thinking about how maybe he should pack a mini toothbrush and toothpaste tube so his lunch doesn’t end up in his breath in case you catch it next time you talk. 

[cannedpickledpeaches]

Insert Your Name (1)

Mafia!Jade Leech x Mafia!Reader

Link to series masterlist!

Notes and TW: I wanted to write something that simultaneously includes some fun Jade moments as well as my own thoughts on some tropes. This series will have mentions of blood, violence, crime (kidnapping, attempted assassination, extortion), and harassment, as one might expect from a mafia AU. Please enjoy!

You’ve known the truth for a while—that this world exists inside a story. This is a world that revolves around a nameless, faceless, flawless main character. This entire world around you exists to serve one purpose: to present trials to the main character until she eventually finds a happy ending with her one and only. This world is created for “(Y/N).”

You are Friend A. Friend A is a foolish girl who puts (Y/N) into a dangerous situation, involving her with the mafia. (Y/N) is saved by a tall, dark, and brooding man who turns out to be a mafia boss. They will face dangers in the underworld until all threats are eliminated, and then they will live out the rest of their lives in blissful peace as though they are good people. Friend A is never mentioned again after page two.

You are Friend A. You are aware of that.

So why don’t you break out of your role in this story? Why should you play your part instead of using this knowledge to change the flow of the plot?

Simply because the plot is beneficial to you.

You are Friend A. You are a core member of the Leech Mafia. When (Y/N) enters the mafia, her actions flick the first domino of a long chain of events, eventually leading to the prosperity of the Leech family and expanding their influence. Because no matter what, this story caters to (Y/N)’s livelihood.

And why should you interfere with something that will eventually pay out big for you?

There she is now, coming down the street with a smile. Her indistinct hair is in a messy bun that she always throws together in seconds. Her pants emphasize her incredibly tiny waist, and her eyes sparkle with the light of constellations when she sees you. A light blush dusts her cheeks even though she doesn’t wear makeup, and she passes all the people captivated by her on the sidewalk, oblivious to their stares, because she doesn’t believe in her innate beauty and charisma—the beauty and charisma that the story says she has.

“Oh, there you are!” Her voice, clear and sweet, rings out to you. You wave back, just as you are supposed to. “You said you wanted to get sweets from the bakery that just opened, right? I’m so excited. I love sweets! I saved up some money just for this.”

A dialogue line full of exposition. You nod and lead the way.

“Have you seen their Magicam posts? The cakes are so pretty.”

Her giggles chime like bells. “I think the strawberry one is the cutest!”

Your small talk has little to no substance. It exists only to pass the time. To be honest, you don’t mind. If this were any normal day, you would have enjoyed this. You would have visited that bakery with (Y/N), gone home with a strawberry tart, checked up on the ledgers for the mafia, and slept while fed and content. But today is the inciting incident of the story, and you have your part to play.

A dark alleyway is where these things always take place in stories. Four men smoking and muttering ominously to themselves lean against a brick wall, hidden in shadow. Their eyes follow your every step. You make sure to walk on the outside of the sidewalk so that (Y/N) passes by the alley. As expected, their hands shoot out and grab her arm.

“Hey, you there.” One of the thugs licks his chops. “Got a minute to spare, pretty thing?”

Generic “bad guy” dialogue. Of course, he’s talking to (Y/N). You don’t need to do anything yet except make sure the pieces are in place. A flutter of black fabric in the corner of your vision assures you that the main lead is ready and waiting.

“Get your hands off me!” (Y/N) struggles against his much stronger grip to no avail. The men pull us into the alleyway and corner us against a dumpster. Tasteful.

“Don’t be so harsh.” Another thug whose voice scrapes like glass shards to the ears grabs your shoulder. You don’t shrug him off. Right now, your role is to lay low and let the main character shine. “We just wanna show you a good time.”

“You can fuck right off! And don’t touch my friend.” (Y/N) shows off her generically headstrong personality now. She probably thinks that she should protect you. You are Friend A, without any special characteristics, a piece of cannon fodder that cannot do anything on your own. Even though (Y/N) doesn’t consciously think that way, this is how she perceives the world. She is not wrong for doing so—she’s being sweet, in the way that she is designed to be.

You don’t have anything to do while she shoots off her scathing remarks, so you take your time to observe the thugs. Just as the story you read describes, these men come from an easily identifiable rival mafia. All four have a tattoo of a handsaw on their bodies—the symbol of the Carpenter Mafia, the current major group in the Queendom of Roses. Common soldiers, no doubt. Not anyone of importance . . . yet.

Thug Number One brings your attention back to the conversation by yanking on your hair. It hurts a little. Irritating, but you can bear with it. (Y/N) looks outraged.

“How about this? Since you’re so determined to save your friend, I’ll let her go if you give yourself to us.” He continues with his harassment by grabbing your cheeks with his grimy fingers. You inhale deeply and immediately regret it due to the smell of his breath. Your mind urges you to refrain from giving him a nice fist to the face. Not just from his treatment of you, but also from his gross proposition to (Y/N). Despite your respective roles in this story, she is still your friend. Hearing him throw those slimy words at her leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.

(Y/N) puts up a struggle. “I won’t give you anything!”

“Do you think you’re in a position to make demands?”

She hesitates, looking at you with conflicting emotions warring on her features. Takes a deep breath, just as the story says she would. Then, with a wavering voice and a tough façade, she agrees.

You take your cue to run from the alleyway, abandoning her the way Friend A is meant to do. You don’t have to worry. After all, the thugs won’t be able to do anything before the male lead steps in and saves her.

There isn’t much time to waste until you get an update on the story. You hail a taxi to a neighbourhood by the sea. You tip the driver handsomely, bid him a good day, then walk another block before arriving at a mansion. There’s nobody here to greet you except the security guards at the front gates.

You scan the trees. Looks like he’s in a good mood. When he’s upset, he doesn’t usually climb. He hasn’t noticed you yet—his back is turned, his head buried in a particularly thick patch of leaves, and you’re downwind.

“Floyd!”

He turns so suddenly that you’re worried he’ll get whiplash. A grin lights up his face, and without a single reservation, he jumps right off the tree and lands smoothly on your side of the fence surrounding one of the Leeches' many properties. The sun shines across his handsome, sharp features. Of course, the twin brother of the male lead must be gorgeous in accordance with the axioms that govern this world.

“Handfish, how was it? Did Jade meet her?” Even though you are Friend A in this story, to Floyd, you are just his friend. He hasn’t given you a generic nickname like the “minnows” that he calls the family’s soldiers and staff. To him, you are an individual who is interesting enough to grant a personal nickname. Even if that nickname is “Red Handfish.”

“Yeah, he did. I saw his blazer.” You think back to the black fabric you saw before entering the alley. “I bet he’s doing the whole ‘I can’t let you live’ conversation with her.”

In the story, one of the thugs reveals Jade’s identity as a mafia boss in front of (Y/N) before he passes out. How a common foot soldier of the Carpenter mafia can recognize Jade, whose face is kept classified from lower-ranked members of the underworld, is worrying enough to warrant investigation. This could simply be a result of poor writing from the original plot, but you are also an example of the original story’s loose ends. If someone like you, who was meant to disappear after page two, can still have any significance and will instead of vaporizing immediately after you left that alley, then you can’t be too careful.

“Bet he’s being real smooth with it.” Floyd cackles, his raspy laugh reminding you of a chain smoker after five consecutive packs. “She’s gonna fall for it hook, line, and sinker.”

“Of course. We’re talking about Jade.” Even under regular circumstances, he’s charming enough to lure any poor, unsuspecting fool to their demise. “They’re going to come here any minute now. Let’s go inside.”

You pass the security guards and enter the Leech property. A perfectly paved ground with colourful stones and not a weed in sight. A marble fountain surrounded by neat, rectangular hedges. And of course, the enormous white mansion with huge double doors, which in turn have proportionally huge fancy glass windows. For (Y/N) to have a “perfect” ending, the world must allow her to escape her current life of scrimping and saving by marrying her into a wealthy family.

“I wonder what the little minnow looks like.” Floyd hums, sauntering into the living room. “I bet she’d break easily if I squeezed real hard, huh?”

“Don’t do that.” The two of you sit on a velvet couch. Floyd’s long limbs sprawl out and take up the majority of the space. You settle on the far end. “And are you going to keep calling her a minnow?”

“Dunno, haven’t met her yet.”

“She’s very pretty. When you meet her, I’m sure you’ll get the feeling that there’s something special about her.”

The story emphasizes how much Floyd adores (Y/N). She is supposed to become a sort of mood stabilizer for him, keeping him consistently happy in her presence. You wonder if that will actually happen. Floyd can and will throw tantrums around people he holds dear. His mood that flips at the drop of the hat seems difficult to stabilize on just affection alone.

He shrugs non-committedly. Just as you’re about to suggest a nickname he could use, your phone buzzes.

Five minutes away. Jade’s text is short and to the point. You stand and stretch, getting ready to play Peeping Tom.

“Remember, don’t say anything about the original plot, okay?” Floyd’s unpredictable nature worries you. You know that your reminder won’t do much if Floyd decides it would be fun to spill the beans anyway, but you can’t help yourself.

“I know, I know.” He frowns and waves you off. Laughing, you move to the room across the hall. He hates being told what to do, but he’s in a good mood right now. It won’t be a problem.

The front door creaks open. Through a crack in the door, you watch Jade carry (Y/N) in his arms like a princess and set her down on the couch. Smooth, easy, efficient, the way he likes to do everything. Even though you know he is acting, his movements, the soft look in his eyes, are almost believable to you. And you’ve known him for fifteen years. There’s an odd stirring in your chest. Guilt? Envy? You tamp it down.

For a fraction of a second, you swear you make eye contact with him. If he notices you, he doesn’t show it. He seems to redouble his efforts on acting sweet to (Y/N). It might just be your imagination.

Floyd pokes around at the two of them the way he always does when he’s curious about something new. His grating laugh fills the air while Jade bandages a scrape on her knee. Good, the scene is going exactly as described in the story. (Y/N)’s first colourful and memorable experience with her future family. Her new family must be fun, rich, kind to her, and love her unconditionally no matter the circumstances. Her new family has to be better in every way compared to her current one—a mother who passed away at childbirth and a scummy father who neglects her. For an author, these are simply lazy ways to give her a tragic backstory and simultaneously pretend her parents don’t exist for the rest of the story because they don’t add to the romance.

How horrible. How could a late mother and neglectful father not affect a person? How could they simply be written off as another thing the male lead “saves” her from? And for that matter, how can the author casually write in a scene where she is cornered by adult men who are physically far stronger than her, who harass her and make disgusting comments, just so she can meet the male lead? How can they just pretend that won’t lead to any trauma?

You know firsthand how (Y/N) lives her life, because despite the story labeling you as the disposable Friend A, you genuinely have been her friend for the past year. You’ve seen her live on plain rice porridge for days to cut grocery costs. You’ve seen her wear clothes until they are threads because she can’t afford to buy new ones. Oh, but isn’t it wonderful that she’s skinny and looks good in everything?

What a load of bullshit.