#ch: wyrm

[tyrannuspitch]

i don't know if it was a typo or a deliberate pun, but a loki art post i reblogged earlier said "heartworming" where you would expect "heartwarming" and i can't stop thinking about it. like. heartworms are real. they exist. you are implying that loki is a dog with parasites in his heart which are going to kill him one day, and, well,

[a-killer-obsession]

Whoops, you got hit by a bus, and now you're in the world of One Piece. But not everything is quite as you remember it...

General Tags: afab reader, she/her reader pronouns, isekai, monsterfucker reader, vampire!kid, werewolf!killer, wyrm!heat, minotaur!wire, everyone has a human form, smut heavy, unhealthy relationships, dubious consent, serious violence, spoilers for Wano arc, starts pre-timeskip. There will be a lot of more intense kinks, please check AO3 for all current tags.

Chapter 6 - Puppy

Killer gets pegged 😊

WC: 3.7k

Masterlist | AO3 | Chapter 1

A/N: in case you're someone who relies on the upload schedule to check in for chapters, there was a bonus chapter posted between tuesdays 😊 Be sure to read ch 5 then come back here ~

You woke up in Kid's bed, awkwardly laying across it, his heavy leg draped over you as he slept the right way up, snoring like a fucking truck. You couldn’t have been asleep for that long, no doubt woken by the snoring, so with the intention of going back to Heat's bed, you put all your strength into shoving his leg off of you. Unbeknownst to you, the venom Kid had injected you with had a healing effect, helping you regenerate your blood as quickly as possible, so the vampire could feed again quickly. It meant you felt none of the lightheadedness you felt earlier, in fact other than your hips hurting a little from Kid's harsh treatment you felt perfectly fine. Nothing a hot bath wouldn't fix though, which sounded like a nice idea right about now.

You threw on your shirt, wondering what had become of your pants, and quietly slipped out of the room. You considered using Kid's bathroom, but didn't want to push your luck with him. You made your way downstairs, about to open the door to Heat and Wire's bathroom when the door at the end of the hall opened, revealing Killer in his mask and sweatpants, his hair messy like he'd just gotten out of bed.

“What are you doing out here on your own, mouse?” Killer asked, leaning against his doorframe.

“I just left Kid's room,” you explained, “I was gonna have a bath before I went back to Heat.”

“You'll wake Wire running the bath this late,” Killer replied, stepping aside and beckoning you into his room, “come use mine instead.”

“Alright then,” you agreed. It didn't matter to you which bath you used, as long as you got some soothing hot water on your hips. You followed him into his room, not seeing much of the bedroom itself before the light from the hall disappeared as the door was shut. From what you could see, it looked tidy, decorated in blues and whites, with minimal decorations. He opened the door to his bathroom, flicking on the light and giving you another short look at the immaculately clean room before you followed him through, finding his bathroom to be a mirror image of the one Heat and Wire shared. Basic white porcelain amenities with tan tiles lining the bottom half of the wall and floors, the top halves tiled in white. The identical bathrooms each had a sink with decent counter space and drawers, a toilet, and a shower bath combo, the bath being large enough to fit someone tall and wide like many of the Kid Pirate crew were. For someone like you, that meant the bath was massive. Even for Killer, who was the smallest of the commanders, the bath was overkill. Not that you were complaining though as Killer went ahead and started filling it, adding oils and potions that made the water bubble and flooded the room with pleasant floral scents. Killer seemed like he was being extra nice to you, and you weren't sure why. In reality it was due to the fading scars of Kid's fangs that Killer could see on your neck. He appreciated you feeding Kid, knowing Kid would be in a much better mood tomorrow because of it, even if he didn't know that you didn't know you had done so.

Killer pulled down the toilet lid and sat on it as he indicated for you to get in the bath, so you slid off your shirt and sunk into the water, groaning at the pleasant temperature that Killer had gotten exactly right. You let yourself relax, enjoying a little the fact that Killer was definitely observing your naked body wherever the bubbles allowed him a window. “Do you want to join me, Kil?” You offered sweetly. He considered it for a moment, and finding no reason not to, stood and stripped his clothing, twisting his hair into a makeshift low bun to keep it dry. You pulled your legs up to make space for him as he slid in, the water almost spilling over to account for the extra displacement, and once he was settled you stretched back out, resting your feet on his thighs. He took one in his hands and rubbed it, making you sigh at the skillful massage.

“You know, you can take your mask off Kil,” you offered, “I know you don't trust me, but I have already seen your face. You must be getting awful condensation under there. Or I can close my eyes if you want. Whatever is most comfortable.”

Killer sighed to himself, feeling the uncomfortable dripping of sweat under his mask. He supposed it didn't matter much, since you'd already seen his face anyway, or at least you said you had. Either your story would be proven false and he'd never see you again anyway once they sold you, or you'd stick around and he'd get used to showing you his face at some point anyway. He hoped, since you had said he was one of your favourites, that you would be a safe outlet for him to explore the desires he had that required his mask to be off. Even something as simple as making out was not a luxury Killer usually had. You were so sweet with the way you doted on Heat despite his visual flaws, you didn't seem like the type who would make fun of him. And if you did, he could just kill you, so what did it matter? Perhaps it was worth the risk to feel his mouth against another's, or to be able to eat a woman out without needing to blindfold her.

With one last deep breath he reached back and unlatched his mask, sliding it off and placing it on the tile beside the tub, letting his messy bangs fall freely over his brows. You practically squeaked as you saw his unmasked face properly for the first time, his lips currently bare of lipstick since he'd previously been ready for bed. “My god, you're even more handsome in person!” You exclaimed, making him flush bright pink. You closed the distance between the two of you, sliding into his lap and pressing your breasts against his chest. “I bet your smile is even prettier in person too,” you purred, running your thumb over his lower lip, making him let out a small whine. He could tell you were being genuine, that this wasn't you just mocking him, and it made his dick twitch. “I can think of a few ways to make you smile too…”

“Yeah, like what?” Killer flirted back.

“Like, I could make you cum over and over until the only expression you can manage is a fucked out grin,” you replied, running your tongue along his jaw as you hand reached down between your bodies to find his cock. It was already hard as you grabbed it, making you smile mischievously. “Like that idea, do you? You're already so hard for me.”

“Fuck,” Killer growled as you started to pump his cock, focusing on the base while you brought down your other hand and rubbed your thumb over the sensitive head. Killer's head lolled back against the porcelain as you jerked him off, small groans escaping his mouth as you serviced him. You licked and nipped at his bared neck as your hands worked, leaving little red marks over his skin as he started to more openly pant, his cock throbbing in your hands as you moved faster.

“Does that feel good baby?” You purred. All he could give you in reply was a needy whine before he brought his head back up, looking at you with icy blue eyes that were black with lust before capturing your mouth with his, groaning as you forced your tongue into his mouth. “Good boy, Kil,” you purred as you pulled away, sucking on his ear lobe, “good boy, you gonna cum for me?”

“Fuck, yes, gonna- gonna cum,” he groaned, his hips trying their best to buck under your weight to fuck your hand faster. You took the hint and increased your pace, squeezing a little harder around his shaft. “Ah- fuck, mouse, ah, cumming.”

“Good boy Killer,” you purred, “good boy.” You slowed your pace but didn't stop entirely. As expected of his stamina, he hadn't gone soft yet, so you kept stroking him despite how overstimulated he was, enjoying the way he whimpered. “We're not done yet though baby, not until I see that pretty smile. Let's go to the bed though, shall we?”

“Mmm,” Killer replied, dazed from his orgasm but more than keen for another. You slid off his lap and stood, watching with amusement as he hungrily watched the water drip down your naked form. He shuffled forward and wrapped his arms around your thighs, pressing his face against your mound and looking up at you with pleading eyes.

“You want to taste me baby?” You cooed down at him, pushing his fringe out of his face. He nodded eagerly and nuzzled against you, but you pulled his hair hard, forcing his face away from you as you bent down a little to scold him. “You can taste me when you've been a good boy and given me what I want. Cum for me lots and show me that pretty smile, and I'll give you a reward. Can you be a good boy and do that for me, Killer?”

“C-can you call me puppy?” He asked with a whine, enjoying the way you pulled on his hair. You blinked in surprise at the request but certainly weren't opposed to it.

“Of course, puppy,” you replied, watching Killer's eyes light up and his cock twitch in response, “now be a good pup and go dry off and get on the bed, kay?”

“Okay!” He replied eagerly, almost knocking you down as he scrambled out of the tub and grabbed a towel. He grabbed one for you too before scurrying off to the bedroom, turning on a bedside lamp, knowing you wouldn't give him his reward till you got what you wanted. You took your time drying off, and when you came into the bedroom you were surprised to find Killer waiting for you with something in his hand. What looked like a series of attached belts, and a large dildo made to look like an enlarged version of a dog's cock, knot included. “Will you… use these?” He asked anxiously. He wasn't sure how far he could push you to indulge his kinks, but thus far you had shown you were more than willing to do whatever any of the commanders asked you to, so surely pegging him wasn't outside your comfort zone. Your mouth watered looking at him, his sweet handsome face waiting for you to reply, his cock red and needy. The great Massacre Soldier Killer, begging you to peg him. What a fucking day.

“You've been so good so far, I don't see why not,” you replied as you made your way to him, trying to hide how wet you were. If you'd slipped you were sure you would have just slid the rest of the way to the bed. “Come help me put it on, sweet puppy.”

Killer moved quickly to get the harness on you, tightening it so it fit like a glove. He was kneeling in front of you by the time he was done, showing you how eager he was by running his tongue over the silicone dildo and sucking on the end of it. “Look at you go puppy,” you praised, “you look so pretty with my cock in your mouth. I can't wait to see how pretty you look with your tight little asshole stretched around it.” You threaded your hand through his blonde hair, forcing him deeper onto the dildo, “Gag on it, puppy, show me how much you want it.”

Killer obediently took the cock as far as he could into his mouth, his eyes watering as he choked around the thick dildo, unable to take the knot in his mouth. “Good boy, pup,” you told him as you pulled him away, his lips releasing the silicone cock with a pop, “go lay on your back. You got lube for me pup?”

Killer grabbed a bottle from his sidetable for you before laying on his back, stroking his cock eagerly as he waited for you to touch him. Not in your wildest dreams did you think you'd get the chance to finger fuck, let alone peg someone as strong and proud as Killer, or call him puppy for that matter. It was frankly adorable, and it made your cunt ache. You weren't sure which of the two of you was more looking forward to him eating you out at this point. But first, you had a very needy puppy to attend to, as you knelt on the bed between his spread legs.

You coated your fingers in a liberal amount of lube, dripping some onto his asshole and spreading it around. Your other hand grasped his thigh, pulling him open as he fisted himself and hissed at the first touch of the cold liquid on his ass. You teased his entrance with your index finger before pushing it in, Killer immediately balling the sheets in his free hand and moaning. He was relaxed and willing, so it was easy to slide in a second finger, pumping him slowly at first as you eased him open. The dildo he wanted you to use was decently large, and your fingers were slim, you would need to work hard to work him open enough. You leaned down and sucked on his balls as you slid in a third finger and worked it to the last knuckle, sucking one marble into your mouth and playing with it with your tongue as your fingers moved faster. Finally you managed to fit in a fourth finger, working him wide open while he groaned and squirmed. You replaced his hand with your own, pumping him fast as you sucked on his balls, working his cock with your hand at the same pace you were working his ass until he cried out, his ass clamping around your fingers and ropes of cum spirting from his cock, splashing against your face and dripping over your fingers.

“Oooooh fuck,” Killer groaned as you slowly withdrew your fingers from his ass, running your tongue over your other cum coated hand and cleaning the remnants from his cock.

“You're being such a good boy, puppy,” you praised, making him whine. His cock was softening but it wasn't going to deter you, he didn't need to be hard for you to fuck his ass. “You got one more for me puppy? Ready for me to fuck that tight ass?”

“Yes!” He replied, “Yes, please, please fuck me.”

“You're so cute when you beg,” you cooed, saturating the dildo with lube and fisting it to spread it out, as well as adding more to his gaping asshole. You lined the tip up with his ass, more than excited to use the dildo on him. “So very pretty,” you slid in slowly, watching his whole body tense as he groaned and balled the sheets in his fists, his hips raising off the bed as you worked the dildo in deeper and deeper. “Good puppy, just like that, there you go.”

With slow, patient movement you were able to get the dildo up to the knot, the bulbous base pressing against his ass and stretching it a little further with each movement, threatening to squeeze inside. You stayed still as he adjusted around you, trying to treat him as you would hope to be treated, being careful and gentle, adding more lube when you felt necessary. “Good boy, just let me know when you're ready baby, okay?”

Killer groaned and nodded, panting already as he rolled his hips, beckoning you to move. You moved slowly at first, his cock slowly twitching back to life as you thrust in and out of him, “That feel good, pup?” You asked him. Killer couldn't answer in words anymore, too lost to his pleasure, his hands digging into your hips as he pulled you to fuck him harder and faster. His hips rolled in time with yours, fucking himself on the dildo as thin precum began to leak from his cock. He looked divine like that, the low light shining a warm glow across his well sculpted torso, his hair spilling out around him, his eyes closed and mouth open in a small ‘o’. You could tell he was getting close, his movements sloppy and desperate and his moans getting deeper and more akin to growls.

“The- the knot- please,” Killer groaned, trying to push himself further on to the strap. You pushed back against him, his vision going white as the bulb at the base of the dildo slipped inside his ass and his cock spurted a pathetic amount of cum, already spent from his earlier orgasms. His body shook, his thighs clamping around you and squeezing you as he whined. Then you got what you wanted, a fucked out smile spreading on his face as his eyes rolled back, just as pretty as you thought it would be, before finally his body went limp against the mattress.

“Don't pull out yet, please,�� he pleaded. You stayed right where you were, letting Killer catch his breath as well as your own, having put your all into fucking him. After a while he gave you a nod, and you began to pull away, but he winced as the knot caught. You reached under and slid your pinky finger inside him, making him groan with the sting of the extra stretch, which was quickly remedied as you relieved the air pressure that was keeping the dildo trapped. With the suction finally released you were able to pull out, leaving his asshole gaping and clenching around nothing.

“Good puppy,” you praised, cupping his face tenderly and running your thumb over his cheek as he whined softly, “stay right there baby.”

You disappeared to his bathroom where you removed the strap, leaving it in the sink for him to clean later. You rummaged in his drawers until you found a handcloth, dampening it in the sink and returning to the bed where Killer was half asleep. He whined as the cool cloth touched him but allowed you to continue, wiping first the cum from his stomach and cock, before cleaning away the lubricant from his ass and thighs. You were about to get up to dispose of the cloth when he tore it from your hand, throwing it to the floor and rolling you to your back. Before you could protest, he was burying his face between your legs, his groans vibrating your needy cunt as he found how wet you were. He was pleased that you seemed to have enjoyed pegging him, and he ate you out as best he could to show you his thanks, sucking on your clit and lapping thick stripes up your pussy.

You gripped his hair hard, remembering from earlier how much he enjoyed when you pulled it, moaning as his whines sent another wave of vibrations through you. “Oh fuck, good pup,” you moaned, “what a thirsty puppy, drink up all you want my sweet pup.”

Killer moaned against you at your praises, dipping his tongue inside you and using the strong muscle to fuck you while his thumb rubbed your clit. His other hand reached under his chin, his middle finger rubbing at your asshole which was drenched with your dripping arousal. He pushed in just the tip, making your clit tingle pleasantly as he worked the three sensitive points simultaneously with his hands and tongue. “Oh fuck, just like that,” you groaned, pulling his hair hard, “yes, yes, fuck, good boy, gonna cum, fuck, fuck.”

His finger slid deeper into your ass and the extra pressure was enough to put you over the edge. You came with a scream as you gushed on his tongue, almost yanking his golden locks from his scalp with how hard you pulled. He withdrew the finger from your ass but continued to rub your clit hard, forcing an additional gush of release from you and making you see stars. You went limp against his bedding, shaking and panting, your whole body tingling with your orgasm as he gave one last wide stripe up your cunt. He crawled up the bed, kissing his way up your abdomen until he was looming over you, his mouth meeting yours. You could taste yourself on his tongue as he rubbed it against yours, your face getting wet as your cum transferred between your faces. Finally he rolled off you, laying beside you with a sated sigh. “Thanks,” he said softly.

“Mm, no need to thank me,” you breathed, “that was fun.”

“Please don't tell anyone though…” he said softly, a nervous tint to his voice, “about the… puppy thing. They'll laugh at me.”

“I won't tell a soul, Kil,” you smiled, rolling to your side to cuddle up against him, “it's nobody else's business.”

“Mouse,” Killer's tone turned serious, “your story, are you telling the truth?”

“Of course I am,” you replied, tracing his collarbone with a finger. The finger slid up his neck, catching on his chin and forcing him to look at you. “I would never lie to you, Killer. Never.”

Killer sighed softly and buried his face in your breasts, holding you tight. He desperately hoped you were telling the truth, feeling like he had someone he could be himself with. He'd be disappointed if they had to get rid of you afterall. Your heart was beating steadily though, no sign of fear or uncertainty, and he let that steady beat lull him to sleep, holding you close to him. He couldn't even remember the last time he slept unmasked next to a woman.

[Next Chapter]

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[moonlitstoriess]

Across the Universe- ch.15 (Fenrys x Reader)

Summary: Y/n has everything she needs in life. A family, friends, a safe place she calls home and most importantly a male whom she loves. What happens when it all changes when Y/n finds out about the betrayal of her lover and her so called family? Well, ending up in Terrasen and in queen Aelin's court was not what she expected but what she will need to start her new journey full of surprises.

Warnings: Sexual themes but no full smut

See masterlist

This was new for her. She never felt like this before. She never was treated like this before.

Like she was a very delicate statue that would break the second it falls.

While Azriel knew her inside and out, her weaknesses, her traumas and nightmares, her insecurities, he still never treated her this way.

He never treated her like Fenrys did.

Unlike Azriel, Fenrys doesn't know her ugly past. She would rather be eaten by a Middengard Wyrm than ever unravel her past and scare him off, shattering her heart for a second time in the process.

While Az listened to her troubles, he never truly comforted her, or fully listened, brushing them under the rug and simply telling her 'it is in the past now'. And after all that happened between them, she realizes now how he never loved her enough to care. Because he was never even the one with whom she was destined to be.

But Fenrys.....not only did he hug her tightly, bringing her to his chest, on the floor, but he also listened to whatever she would say with his complete undivided attention. Whenever she would stop or say 'sorry' for talking too much, he would reassure her and then ask questions related to what she said.

She told him about her mistreatment, about how broken she truly was, about how she was still so traumatised over things that happened so long ago that she couldn't move on. She complained about herself, her scars, her unfortunate life, constantly dodging or avoiding his questions about what exactly happened to her, who caused her the wounds and scars, who took away her happiness.

She wouldn't tell him. She couldn't. He would be afraid of her, be disgusted with her.

But then when he would kiss her head and cheeks constantly, reassuring her that it was her insecurity talking, that she was so strong and brave, beautiful and delicate, y/n thought that maybe he wouldn't leave her like everyone else did.

The rest....the rest she does not remember. She only remembers falling asleep mid-ranting right the on the floor, curled up in Fenrys' chest. And now, waking up in her bed, well-rested and alone, y/n felt a warm, comforting feeling envelop her at the thought of him bringing her over to the bed and tucking her in. But she also felt cold and sad at him leaving and not staying by her side.

Maybe, having a mate isn't so bad after all-

Would she accept the bond though? She had to make a decision. She wouldn't be like Elain and drag Fenrys on without giving him an answer.

And she knew her answer. It was clear.

With that decision in mind, y/n climbed off the bed and went towards her wardrobe, changing into something more flexible and comfortable before doing some more touch-ups and leaving. It was definitely later than her usual training time, so y/n went straight to the library to read something.

But on her way, she heard noises. Multiple of them, in fact, coming straight from the sitting room. Curiosity peaked, y/n turned and headed straight towards the area, the noises getting louder and louder with each step she took.

When she opened the door, y/n was met with five different faces, all gathered around the table, all now looking straight at her. Yrene was pointing at the books in front of them, Chaol just standing by his wifes side and listening, Aelin and Rowan stood on the other side of the table while Fenrys stood closer to the healer, clearly from the look on his face, listening carefully to her.

Aelin spoke first, her face breaking into a smile as she said, "Good morning, y/n. We have wonderful news."

"Yrene deciphered both books and found a way for you to go home after closing the gates." Chaol pointed at his wife, causing her to give y/n a small smile. Rowan was just nodding along, looking at y/n as if he was waiting on her next move.

Fenrys on the other hand, seemed quite unhappy. Actually, unhappy would be an understatement. He looked straight at her with millions of emotions swirling in his eyes, none of them good, all of them seemingly of despair.

Oh, no. This was really happening. Why? Dread filled her body, both her mind and heart agreeing for once that she shouldn't leave this place.

Y/n took a quick, steadying breath, managed to pull her eyes away from Fenrys, and came closer towards the table. "Really? How? What?"

Aelin's smile widened at y/n's eager questions. "Yrene found a spell in the books that can be used to reopen the gates temporarily. It requires a lot of power and precise timing, but it's possible."

Yrene spoke next. "Yes, the spell essentially creates a bridge between the worlds for a short period. During that time, you should be able to cross back to your own realm."

Chaol added, "We've been discussing the logistics, we believe we can manage to synchronize the spell with the closing of the gates."

Rowan nodded in agreement. "It's risky, but it's our best chance."

Why did her stomach drop? Why were none of her current emotions happy? She was going home! Why wasn't she happy?

She tried to keep her voice from shaking and asked, "When do we do it?"

"Both the Book of Breathings and the book we found in the library align in their predictions regarding the time," Yrene began, her voice measured. "The gates will be most stable and receptive during the upcoming lunar eclipse, which is in three days' time."

Rowan stepped forward, his voice low and steady. "During the eclipse, the gates will naturally weaken. That's our window of opportunity. We'll synchronize the opening with the peak of the eclipse, and then stabilize it long enough for you to cross."

"Of course not all of us will be with you," Aelin said, before looking at her mate, "Half of us will be heading to wherever the Valgs were, to hopefully kill them but not before finding out how they are still alive. I have a theory regarding on how to end them completely."

Turning to Yrene, who was studying her with a reassuring look, y/n asked, "Yrene, could you explain how I might use my powers to help with opening and closing the gates?"

Yrene nodded thoughtfully, adjusting her posture to face y/n more directly. "Certainly. The spell we've uncovered requires a conduit of power to stabilize and synchronize the gates' opening and closing. Your unique abilities, y/n, could serve as that conduit."

Y/n listened attentively, absorbing Yrene's explanation. "So, my role would be to channel my energy into the spell to maintain the connection long enough for me to cross back?"

Yrene smiled encouragingly. "Exactly. Your powers resonate with the magic of the gates. With proper guidance and preparation, you can help stabilize the spell during the transition."

Chaol stepped forward, his expression serious yet supportive. "We'll need to train and prepare thoroughly. The timing and precision will be crucial."

This was truly happening, then.

"So, my powers are strong enough to not only take me back to my world but to ensure the gates are closed forever?"

Yrene nodded her head. "Yes, your powers are ancient not to mention how you carry the blood of two different beings from two different worlds within you."

Y/n slowly nodded her head, taking all the unfortunate news in. Actually, the news weren't unfortunate. They would finally get rid of the valg forever and close the gates completely. The only part that is horrible is that she will also have to leave and with the gates closed, never return back here.

Never see Fenrys again.

Aelin nodded her head before clapping her hands together, "Well, y/n dearest, me, Yrene and Dorian will be waiting for you in the afternoon at the royal gardens. We have to start your training."

Y/n didn't say anything, her eyes trained on the books, but the queen took that as a 'yes' and headed towards the door after patting her on the shoulder, followed by Rowan.

"Well, I have to go put the books back in the room, love, help me please, this one is quite heavy." Yrene handed one of the books towards her husband who took it with one hand while holding his wife's waist with the other as they left the room as well.

Y/n, however, didn't move. She couldn't. Her brain was filled with all kinds of thoughts and calculations, dread filling her more and more with each minute that passed by.

All of a sudden, she felt a large hand take hers, holding it tightly. Y/n looked to her side to see Fenrys also staring at the book, not saying anything. And before she could stop herself, as if the Mother herself willed it, y/n's mouth moved on it's own accord, whispering, "I don't want to leave."

She felt his hold on her hand tighten as Fenrys took in a sharp breath before saying, "Me neither."

As if on cue, they both turned to fully look at each other, hands still locked, and said at the same time,

"Y/n-"

"Fenrys-"

She stopped herself from spilling anything out and said, "You first."

Fenrys smiled. "No, you."

She chuckled but shook her head, "You."

He smiled once more before asking her, "What will happen to us? Have you made a decision? Are we- well- I- if you accept the bond, will you still leave me?"

She looked at his eyes, her expression unreadable. "Do you accept it? Do you want me?"

Fenrys came closer, standing chest to chest with her, his expression suddenly turning serious as he said, "Do I want you? Gods, y/n, I want you like I have never wanted anyone else before. I would accept the bond in the blink of an eye but-"

"But?"

"But I need to know how you feel about it first. I need you to want this as well."

She shook her head slightly, looking down, her expression solemn. "Fenrys, but I am leaving-"

"But you don't have to. You don't have to leave, y/n. We are mates, and if you accept it as well, we can be together. You can just shut off the gates and we will end the valg but you don't have to leave, it's not a must."

She sighed, "I don't know Fen, after all that happened to me, I am scared of the whole mate situation. Azriel truly scarred me for life."

He lifted his hand so that his knuckles gently grazed her cheek as Fenrys said, his eyes full of determination, "I am nothing like Azriel, y/n. I would never treat anyone that way let alone my own mate. I- I would never hurt you-"

She smiled and leaned closer to him, "I know, Fen, believe me I know. But....love? I- I don't think I love you right now. I feel something towards you, yes. Like, care, adoration, protectiveness but love? I don't think I am there yet."

He gave her a soft smile and said, "It's hard for me too, princess. But with time, can't we learn to love? We can heal together, y/n. Your presence alone has healed me so much. Whenever I am with you, I feel at peace, like no nightmare can reach me. Your touch grounds me."

Her heart was about to burst with emotions y/n thought she had buried. Oh, Cauldron boil her, Fenrys was making this very hard.

She put her head on his chest, smelling his scent that was so...him before saying softly, "We can try, the lunar eclipse is in three days right? We can try to see how it goes between us in these three days first. And if we accept the bond, then what?"

She felt his arms wrap around her, tightly holding her body close to him, "If we accept the bond, then we will have a lifetime to get to know each other more. To be with one another, to love one another."

She gave him a contented sigh, "Yes....that sounds like a good idea."

"Hopefully, one that will come true."

Despair has never been an emotion that Fenrys felt. He was never desperate for anything in his lifetime because he never had anything to lose.

Now he did.

Her.

He was desperate for her not to leave. If y/n left, he would lose her. And he isn't telling this just because she is his mate. No, Fenrys has grown used to her presence and even rely on it. Y/n understands him like no one else. She is always ready to listen and support him in whatever he says or does. Seeing her, touching her, smelling her scent, all confirm to him that she is alive, well and beside him, where she belongs.

Fenrys did contemplate the idea of also going back to Prythian with her but, that isn't his world. That isn't his place. And although Fenrys would never say no to a chance of putting the inner circle and especially Azriel in their places, he still can not live in such a foreign place forever.

Thinking of her going back to her world, back to her usual life, moving on, brings him so much pain and sorrow. And then thinking of her finding someone else, settling down with them and giving her love to them makes him go mad.

He was so hopeful that she wouldn't leave, that she would stay with him. So what they barely know one another? They are mates. And both clearly feel something for one another. They would have a lifetime to know one another more. To be with one another.

The only hope he has is that she thinks the same and chooses hi-

"Fenrys!! Slow down, will you? You are about to break my nose!"

Fenrys stopped his punching, breathing heavily as he pushed aside the thoughts he was temporarily lost in. Lorcan was already on the ground, panting heavily and looking at him with furrowed eyebrows.

Fenrys held his hand out for the man to take and then heaved him upwards to stand. Lorcan was still breathing heavily when he asked after a moment, "What is happening? You seemed to be deep in thought back there, all of a sudden lunging for me like I am a valg."

Fenrys shook his head and said, "It's nothing, just stress."

Lorcan smirked, "Yes, of course, stress, and I wonder if a particular winged female is causing this stress?"

Fenrys went to take his shirt and put it on. "No. Y/n and I are nothing."

He was about to leave when he heard Lorcan say, "Well then, that is good news. Nox was asking about you and her because he had taken an interest towards her so I can inform him that she is free for the taking-"

In the blink of an eye, Fenrys was in front of Lorcan, grabbing him by his shirt. "Y/n isn't a sack of potatoes or some other object being sold in a market to call her 'free for the taking' and tell that little shrimp that if he values his bones and doesn't want them to be broken, then he will do well and stay away from her."

That's when Lorcan began to laugh loudly causing Fenrys to loosen his grip and stare at him with the same intensity as he did a minute ago.

Lorcan put his arm on the shifters shoulder and said, "I won't say that because Nox didn't say anything about y/n."

Fenrys' brows furrowed in confusion.

"I made it all up to see your reaction and now I can clearly confirm that you like her."

Fenrys sighed and pushed away from the man. "I don't just like her, Lorcan. She is my mate."

And then, he felt water spill all over him and quickly turned around to see Lorcan with his mouth hanging open and an empty cup in his hand.

"Did- did you just spit your water all over me?"

"You- She- Gods, Fenrys, mate?!"

"Yes, yes she is my mate."

"Does she know?"

Fenrys looked towards the hills as he said, "Yes, she knows."

He felt Lorcan come closer. "And what will you do? with the whole gates issue and-"

"I don't know. We don't know. She told me we will see how it shall be within these three days. Nothing is for sure."

"Fenrys-"

"Lorcan, I am loosing my mind here. I am ready to beg whatever being there is that has power, to make her stay with me, here. Those people, her world, I- I don't know them, Lorcan. But the ones that I do know are anything but nice. They are all liars and traitors. She won't be safe there, I need her safe, Lorcan, do you hear me? I need her safe."

Lorcan put his firm hand on his friend's shoulder and said, "I understand you, Fenrys. But your issue is.....quite complicated."

Fenrys sighed and tilted his head to look skywards, "Yes, I am aware."

There was a momentary silence that passed between them before Lorcan spoke once more, "But not impossible to solve if you both do the right thing."

"And that is?"

"Accept the bond, of course."

Fenrys scoffed, "Easy for you to say. You already have your wife."

Lorcan smiled at the mention of his wife before replying, "That's because I did the right thing by saying 'fuck it' and turning into a mortal for her."

"Well, y/n isn't a mortal either so I don't need to give that up."

Lorcan smacked him in the head. "You big idiot, of course you shouldn't do that. That was my choice to make because Elide and I's story was different but complicated nonetheless. I am saying that you must make a decision. If you are willing to be with her, you must be ready for either of her replies. You must be ready to sacrifice some things."

Fenrys sighed, "I will always find a way to protect her."

"This is frustrating!"

"It wouldn't be if you just listened!"

"Ladies, i think I am about to fall face down because of how drained I am."

"Dorian, shut up and help!"

"How?! My body refuses to do anymore magic, I am thoroughly depleted, Aelin dearest."

"Gods, Dorian, you are the worst teacher I have seen."

"Y/n doesn't think that, yes?"

"I am sorry, but you most definitely are."

"HA!"

"Are you serious-"

"What is happening here?!"

"MANON! Love, save me from them please. They are torturing me!"

"Dorian get your senses together, no one is torturing you."

"Don't talk to me, Aelin- I mean, peasant."

"Did you just call me a peasant?! I am a queen, you-"

"I AM TIRED!!"

It has been a total of two hours since y/n entered the royal gardens to train with Dorian, Aelin and Yrene.

Recognizing the strain of using powerful magic, they focused on y/n's physical and mental well-being. This included exercises to maintain stamina, meditation techniques to enhance focus, and strategies to manage stress. Yrene taught this to her first, before leaving and giving the turn for Aelin and Dorian. Now, they were teaching her how to regulate the flow and intensity of her energy, ensuring she could sustain the necessary level required for the spell.

The rest of them were busy planning how to attack the Valg after Aelin told them of her plan to cut them from the root. According to her, they must have some kind of a core source located in their hiding place which is why destroying it, would also destroy them.

They did make some progress, but y/n still had troubles with concentrating and not going overboard by using too much of her energy. Safe to say, just like Dorian, she was also drained.

Manon rolled her eyes while smiling slightly and let the king hug her as she said, "Well then, training is over. You can't continue unless you regain your energy."

Aelin, still glaring at Dorian, nodded her head and said, "Very well then, let's go eat something."

On their way towards the dining room, Aelin turned to look at Dorian while staring daggers at him, "We are not done, you little bastard. I will get my revenge on you for calling me a peasant."

Dorian just smirked and held Manon tighter by the waist. "You can try, and even if you kill me, my witchling will avenge me. Won't you, Manon dearest?"

Manon just elbowed him in the ribs. "Don't drag me into your childish matters."

Dorian scoffed. "Very well then, my ghost shall come back to haunt you. You won't be able to escape me!"

Aelin just rolled her eyes and told y/n, "Do not mind him, he hit his head very hard when he fell to the ground from a tree which is why now he has completely lost his mind."

Y/n chuckled as Dorian protested while Manon just ignored them all but still snuggled closer to Dorian who was holding her towards him tightly by the waist.

When they entered the dining room to have lunch, Lucien and Petrah were already sitting on one of the couches near the windows as the latter drank some....soup?

At the sound, Lucien looked at them and smiled, "Hello, everyone. We came to eat something."

Manon stepped forward, heading towards her second in command, "Are you mad? Isolde said you couldn't leave the bed for a week! What are you doing here-"

"I begged her like a thousand times before she allowed me to have slow, small distance walks with someone supporting my body. Lucien here, was kind to offer and then I got hungry so we came to eat and now don't talk to me because my ribs hurt and I can't talk much." Petrah continued on drinking her soup.

They all looked at the prince who just smiled slightly while looking at the witch beside him and nodded his head in confirmation.

Aelin smiled, already heading towards the table, followed by others, as she said, "Well, we are all also really tired after hearing Dorian's constant nagging during training so we came to eat."

Dorian, who was already busy with cutting up his food and eating, replied, "You have no right to talk to me, peasant."

Manon rolled her eyes from her place beside him, "Gods, here we go."

Aelin threw a broccoli at the king as she said, "One more time, Dorian, I dare you to say it just one more time!"

"Gods, what are you, five?" Petrah mumbled from the couches before Lucien stuffed her mouth with bread.

Y/n laughed loudly, eating her lunch with them and joining multiple conversations, with Lucien and Petrah interjecting from time to time, from their place on the couch.

She never felt such freedom, such a sense of belonging as she did then. Not even with the inner circle did she ever feel this safe or....valued.

"Y/n? Can we talk?"

Y/n turned her head to see Lucien standing beside her, waiting for a reply. She smiled and noded her head before getting up and following him outside into a corner in the hallway.

"What is it, Lu?"

Lucien looked at her with a mixture of concern and determination. He was unsure and yet keen on something.

"Y/n, I think- I think I will stay here. I- I can't leave her."

Y/n's eyes widened, "Did you tell her? Does she know?"

Lucien shook his head. "No, she doesn't. I am waiting for her well-being to get better before I tell her but....even if she doesn't accept it, I can never leave her, y/n. She is my mate and I have to insure her happiness and safety. Even if it is from a distance. I am sorry."

Y/n put her hand on his shoulder and gave him a small smile, "Don't you dare apologize, Lucien Vanserra. I am sure she will accept it once you tell her so you won't have to look at her from a distance. I am proud of you for choosing to do the right thing, you know. This is maybe why the book sent you here, because you have a mate, waiting for you. This is your home, Lu."

He smiled slightly, "Yes, maybe you are right. So, you aren't mad?"

"Mad? why would I be mad?"

"Because I won't leave and you will."

"No, Lu. I am not mad. I could never be mad at you for doing the right thing. In fact, maybe I should even listen to my own advice."

Lucien's brows furrowed. "What do you mean?"

Y/n sighed and said, "Fenrys is my mate, Lu. He is my mate and I found out about it yesterday."

Lucien's eyes widened in shock as he coughed out, "Alright, now it is my time to be dumbfounded because what?!"

She gave him a small smile, "Yes, it's a long story but, we are mates and I don't know what to do Lu."

Now it was his turn to put his hand on her shoulder as he said, "Maybe the book also sent you here for that purpose? Because you have a mate here? Because this is your true home? Hmm?"

Y/n shook her head, "I don't know-"

"Listen to me, y/n. If you do not like him or feel like you do not want to stay here for sure then please do go ahead with your plan, do whatever makes you happy. But, if you do feel something towards him, if you feel an attachment to this place, then it is a sign. Then you shouldn't leave because your mate is here. And just as you said, it would be better to be by his side rather than look at him from a distance, wouldn't it?"

Y/n sighed, "I told him we would see how it goes in the next three days before I have to open the gates."

Lucien nodded his head before saying, "Remember y/n, you will only get one chance to make a choice so make sure you won't regret it."

One choice.

Just one choice.

Yes or no.

If she would go back in time now and tell the y/n from the past that this is the position she would end up in, that y/n would just laugh in her face and call her mad. Gods, this was frustrating. Why her? Why couldn't she have been a nobody born in an unknown place where no one knows her?

She truly began to enjoy the company of Aelin and her friends. This place was growing on her, more than Velaris ever did. And Fenrys....she definitely felt something for him. But, at the end of the day, he is still a male, just like Azriel, and that means he could end up breaking her. She was so afraid of that. Afraid of once again letting her walls down-

A knock on the door.

Y/n got up from her bed and put on a long robe over her short nightgown before heading towards the door. When she opened it, her breath caught in her throat. Fenrys was standing in front of her, looking as attractive as ever.

His eyes took her in- no, devoured her as he looked at the robe hugging her body like second skin, at her unbound hair, at every part of her from head to toe, his gaze becoming more and more intense with each minute that passed by.

Y/n felt her body get hotter and goosebumps arise all over her, wishing to run away but it was as if her feet were frozen in place under his gaze. Maybe she would end up turning into a puddle because of how he was looking at her. She cleared her throat and managed to say in a steady voice, "Yes?"

His gaze snapped up at her and he came closer, standing chest to chest, "You didn't come to dinner."

"Y-yes. I- I was tired so I slept."

He slightly nodded his head but made no move to leave, bringing his face closer to her, his breath fanning her face, their lips inches apart. She didn't move either. How could she? This was Fenrys right in front of her.

Suddenly, Fenrys whispered, "Ask me to kiss you."

She inhaled sharply before whispering the thing she has wanted him to do for so long, "Kiss me, Fenrys."

He didn't need anymore confirmation. Didn't need anymore time wasting as he immediately crashed his lips onto her, devouring her completely.

She tugged him closer to her as he enveloped her with his arms, leading her back inside the room and closing the door with his feet, not breaking his lips from hers and frankly, she didn't want him to.

Fenrys pushed her up against the wall, tapping her thighs for her to wrap them around his waist. Y/n was sure that his hair was a mess because of how hard she was tugging at it but she didn't care and neither did he as Fenrys broke the kiss to immediately start devouring her neck.

She was trying really hard to not moan as his hardness rubbed against her in a delicious way. As his tounge kept on kissing and biting her collarbones. When he reached the hem of the robe he looked up at her with lust filled eyes, once again asking for permission. And this time, she nodded her head, giving him the confirmation he needed. Because this time, he already knew of the scars she hid even if he didn't know their backstory.

When he couldn't open the robe gently, he released a growl and ripped the material apart, causing her to let out a small sigh, "My robe..."

"I will get you hundreds of others but now, I can't let it keep you away from me."

And with that, he pulled down the straps of her nightgown to expose her breasts. All of a sudden, she felt conscious, her upper body was littered in ugly marks and y/n was letting him see this. When she tried to cover them and make a move to get down, his firm grip on her thighs tightened as Fenrys brought up his hand to remove her arms from her chest, whispering, "Gods, you are beautiful. So beautiful and so ethereal. There is nothing to be ashamed of. I love your body, princess."

For some reason, hearing such words for the first time brought her comfort like no other. At that moment, y/n knew that she would follow Fenrys anywhere because with him, she felt the safest.

He leaned his head down and took one nipple to his mouth, sucking and biting as his other hand was busy with massaging her other breast. Y/n threw her head back at the pleasure, letting out quiet moans, not wanting this moment to end. Ever. Fenrys kept on kissing, biting, sucking and littering her in his marks and scent as she started to slowly grind on him, causing him to let out a low, hot and delicious growl.

"If- if you do that, I don't think I will be able to stop myself."

She leaned down to kiss the corner of his lips, still grinding on him, before whispering, "What if I don't want you to stop yourself, Fen?"

She saw how his pupils widened even more at that, causing him to let out a moan as Fenrys let out a low 'fuck' before smashing their lips together once more, grinding back into her.

A knock came on the door causing them both to freeze their actions. Eva's voice sounded from the other side, "Y/n? Are you in there? Lysandra told me to call you, we have a problem."

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

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[daenysthedreamer101]

Daughter of Steel and Bronze ~ HOTD

Ch 2 - Claiming your birthright

HOTD x Targaryen!OC, eventual Targaryen!OC x Harwin Strong

Warnings: none, fluff, Nyra and Daena being adorable besties

Masterlist

"In 105 AC, Prince Daemon claimed Caraxes, the Blood Wyrm, for himself. Caraxes was previously ridden by Prince Aemon, Daemon's uncle. This fact made many people at court wary, especially Ser Otto Hightower, the Hand, for Prince Daemon was hotheaded and quick to anger. It seemed he found his equal in Caraxes. Prince Daemon was also the wielder of Dark Sister, one of the ancestral swords of House Targaryen. As for his daughter, her egg never hatched. Nevertheless, this would not stop the Prince in his journey to make his beloved Daena a dragon rider like himself."

(Fire & Blood, Being a History of the Targaryen Kings of Westeros, by Archmaester Gyldayn)

~

The next day was the first official day of Rhaenyra's name day celebration. The whole of the Red Keep was bustling with excitement - from the cooks in the Royal kitchens to the stable boys and of course, the Royal family. Daena was expected to be there for her cousin and make this special day even more special. Today at noon the celebration would officially begin with a great feast in the Great Hall. 

She was woken up by Amanda and told that Rhaenyra had called for her for a visit. They were to break fast with the Queen. Daena liked the idea of that. Queen Aemma was kind, soft-spoken, loving, and nothing but caring. She was always nice to Daena. But Daena felt bad for her. Every time Daena saw her, which wasn't a lot but still, she was pregnant. And as far as Daena knew, none of the babies the Queen was pregnant with survived. Daena, dressed in a simple silk dress decorated with bronze and silver threads, was now being escorted to the Queen's chambers. 

There, she was greeted by Rhaenyra who pulled her in a tight hug. "Cousin! You're here! We're going to have the best time today!" Nyra exclaimed happily. 

"And why is that, dear cousin?" Daena asked. Nyra giggled, pulled her closer, and whispered in her ear. 

"Because...I convinced Father and Uncle Daemon to let you see Syrax! I know how much you wished for it. So I thought we could do it after the feast!" Nyra said. 

Daena's eyes widened in shock. Daena couldn't contain the squeal that left her mouth. She and Nyra jumped in delight. Aemma was chuckling in the back.

~

At noon the great feast began. She had the honor of sitting next to Rhaenyra. "You're the closest thing I have to a sister. I think you deserve to sit next to me." Nyra told her when they sat down at the high table. From there, Daena could see the entire Hall and all the lords and ladies who came for the celebration. 

Uncle Viserys was in the middle. To his right was Queen Aemma and next to her was Ser Otto Hightower. To the King's left was Rhaenyra. To Daena's left was her father, Daemon. After the first course, Rhaenyra got up and danced with their cousin, Laenor Velaryon. Daena never interacted much with him. She preferred his sister, Laena. Laena was a year younger than Daena and was lively and fun to play with.

During the feast, Daena could see many people looking her way and whispering to each other. The daughter of the Rogue Prince was making her first official appearance at court. She didn't understand why they all feared her father. He was always kind and gentle with her. He would braid her hair and teach her High Valyrian.

He would sing her lullabies in the ancient language. Most importantly, he would comfort her anytime she was sad about not having a dragon. But apparently, other people thought he was "dangerous" and "cruel as Maegor". She wanted to roll her eyes at those ridiculous words. 

After the feast held in the Great Hall, Daena was tired. Well, not tired per se, she felt heavy and sleepy from eating so much food. She yawned quietly and saw Nyra looking at her. "Issi ao ēdrugī, hāedar?" (Are you sleepy, little sister/cousin?) Rhaenyra asked Daena.

Daena smiled sheepishly and nodded her head. Nyra chuckled and took Daena's hand in hers. "Nyke tolī. Māzigon va. Ivestragī's jikagon se gūrogon iā adere ēdrugon." (Me too. Come on. Let's go and take a nap.) The two young princesses walked happily hand in hand toward Rhaenyra's bed chamber. 

There, they took off their dresses and were left only in their small clothes. They unbraided each other's silver hair. Daena pulled the big, heavy velvet curtains over the windows. They crawled into Rhaenyra's bed and slept with full bellies and happy hearts. 

~

Daemon couldn't wait for the feast to be over. The only reason he was there in the first place is because it was expected of him, as the King's brother. Also, he knew just how much it meant to his niece, Rhaenyra, and his daughter Daena. The two girls were inseparable and were sisters in everything but name. His primary goal in coming to the capital was to secure a dragon for his precious girl. Even now he could hear people whispering around the court about how his daughter's egg didn't hatch. How it's too late for her. 

"Lies. All lies." He claimed Caraxes when he was 24. His daughter had plenty of time to claim one for herself. But Daemon was anything but a patient person. So, of course, he was planning on speeding up the process. He planned on suggesting to the King that, since Daena was down South, she should visit the ancient ancestral seat of their House - Dragonstone. There, she could explore the island and its many caves. Hopefully, she would bond with a hatchling.

"Where is that mischievous little girl?" Daemon murmured to himself as he walked down the halls of the Red Keep. He checked her room. She wasn't there. She must've snuck somewhere, away from the buzz of the court. And if his instincts were right, she wasn't alone. 

He quickly turned to the other hallway, which housed Rhaenyra's room. In front of her door was her sworn shield, Ser Harrold Westerling. "Prince Daemon." The knight greeted him. 

"Ser Harrold...did you by any chance see my daughter? I can't seem to locate her." Daemon inquired. The knight nodded, opened the heavy oak door, and gestured for Daemon to walk in. So he did. The sight that greeted him warmed his rogue heart.

On top of the big oak bed, his little girl was curled up with her favorite cousin, the two blissfully asleep. Their silver hair was loose, their round cheeks red from the heat of the fireplace. The room was barely lit and the air was stuffy. Their little hands were intertwined. They seemed to be hugging each other, their breaths mingling. He originally wanted to scold Daena for sneaking out of the feast with Rhaenyra, but he didn't have the heart to wake them up now.

At the foot of the bed, he saw a book, lying open. It seems the girls were reading before taking a nap. He picked it up. It was in High Valyrian. This particular chapter was about commands riders would use on their dragons. "My little dragon...always eager to learn." Daemon thought to himself with a smile on his face. 

He walked closer to the edge of the bed and looked at the sleeping figure of his little girl. She was so beautiful, she looked like a little angel - now even more so. He caressed her rosy cheek and moved a silver curl from her face. "Ñuha gevie riña." (My beautiful girl.) He whispered and pulled the covers over their small bodies. He left the room silently. 

"Inform me when the Princesses wake up." He told Ser Harrold and went in the direction of the stables to get his horse. He was going to the Dragonpit with a plan in his mind.

~

They were awakened by the harsh afternoon sunlight. Daena could feel the light hitting her eyes. She groaned and turned around, almost colliding with Nyra's face. 

"Princesses...It seems you fell asleep. Prince Daemon told me to wake you up. Have you forgotten about your little arrangement in the Dragonpit?" Amanda told them with a small smile on her face. 

"Oh Gods! Yes, of course! Come on Daena, get dressed!" Rhaenyra said with a gasp and urged her cousin to get dressed quickly. 

"But my clothes are in my room...Besides...I don't have any clothes for dragon riding..." Daena argued. 

"That's not a problem. Take one of my suits." Nyra offered graciously. This made Daena smile a wide smile. 

The trip to the Dragonpit was short. The two girls chatted the whole time so the time went by quickly. Once they arrived, Daena could not believe her eyes. The Dragonpit was a huge, cavernous building made to house the dragons. And the sight that greeted her brought a smile to her face. Her father, Daemon was scratching the scales of his monstrous red dragon, Caraxes, known as the Blood Wyrm. She could see that Caraxes was restless to fly.

"Come, sweet girl. He won't hurt you." Daemon called for her. She looked at Rhaenyra who was beside her. Nyra just smiled a mischievous smile. 

"But what about you? You told me I would see Syrax." Daena questioned.

"Don't worry. I will introduce you two later. Now, go!" Nyra said and pushed her deeper into the Pit. 

Daena slowly approached her father and his dragon. She has seen the dragon many times. Her father took her hand and pressed it against Caraxes's hot scales. For a second she thought her skin would melt off her hands, but it didn't. The dragon clicked and whistled, happy to see his rider's child. He could sense the little being was a Targaryen, that she was Daemon's offspring, and that she too had the blood of the dragon. His big yellow eyes bore into her lilac ones.

"He likes you. He can tell - you're a dragon too." Daemon told his daughter. She smiled shyly, happy that her father's dragon liked her. 

"Now. Climb up." Daemon ordered her. She whipped her head. 

"What!?" Daena said, shocked. 

"You heard me. Climb up. I will be right behind you." He assured her. She took a deep breath and started climbing the ropes to get to the saddle, her father right behind her. 

"Sōvēs Caraxes!" (Fly Caraxes!) She heard her father say behind her. And then, they flew. 

High Valyrian:

Issi ao ēdrugī, hāedar? - Are you sleepy, little sister/cousin?

Nyke tolī. Māzigon va. Ivestragī's jikagon se gūrogon iā adere ēdrugon. - Me too. Come on. Let's go and take a nap. 

Ñuha gevie riña. - My beautiful girl. 

Sōvēs Caraxes! - Fly Caraxes! 

***

In this chapter we see more of Daena's bond with both Nyra and her father. It was mostly filler but next chapter will be a crucial one for Daena.

Hope you liked it, and thanks for reading! ❤❤❤

If you have any opinions feel free to comment!

[bloodstained-porcelain-doll]

The Kneeling Queen, ch 7 - Aemond Targaryen x OC

Read on AO3

Summary: Aemond Targaryen and Maelessa Velaryon were childhood lovers. They were each other’s only comfort in a world full of darkness. When they grew up, their love blossomed until they were the only thing the other cared about. Their lives get increasingly complicated due to the fact that they’re supposed to be on opposite sides of the war. Will their love survive or will it burn to ash as the war ensues?

Chapter warnings: Angsty angst, mentions of mutilation, mentions of miscarriage, no Aemond in this chapter

Chapter 7: Dragonstone

The storm had passed and it was daylight when the Blood Wyrm landed on the beach on Dragonstone. Maelessa hopped off before the two men behind her and stomped angrily all the way up all the endless steps to the castle, barefoot and still wearing only her silk robe that she slept in. She found her mother in the room of the painted table when she entered. The queen gasped and ran toward her, pulling her into a tight embrace. Maelessa pouted but wrapped her arms around her mother’s waist, hugging her back. They had both lost Luke, and this embrace was them grieving together. The queen was thinner than she had been last time Maelessa saw her, meaning she had given birth. She pulled back.

“Where’s Visenya?” she asked. Rhaenyra’s face contorted into another sob, and she realised the horrible truth. There was no little sister, they had lost the baby. “Oh mum I’m so sorry,” she said, throwing her arms around her mother again. Her rage subsided, if only temporarily. Rhaenyra wiped her tears and they broke the hug.

“I’m so relieved to have you home again, Lessa. I’ve lost so much. My father, my throne, my babe and now my son. I couldn’t bear not knowing how you were, if you were safe. And knowing you were with him, I just couldn’t-”

“I grieve with you, mother… But did you not think of me? You robbed me of my only comfort by taking me from my bed in my home and bringing me back here,” Maelessa said and tears stung her eyes once more. Rhaenyra snorted through her tears.

“Your comfort? Surely you don’t mean Aemond? He murdered your brother in cold blood! How could you not think we would come rescue you from him?” she exclaimed, throwing her arms out to her sides. Maelessa was outraged at the words. Of course that’s what she would think. All she saw when she looked at Aemond was a one eyed monster. She didn’t know him like Maelessa did, she couldn’t see all the hurt he buried underneath the facade, all the love he bore in his heart but didn’t let anyone but Maelessa see.

“That’s a lie!” she exclaimed. “Luke’s death was an accident!”

“Is that what he told you? And you actually believed him!?”

“Of course I believe him! You should have seen the state of him, mother. He burst through my doors and fell to his knees in front of me, torn up and crying hysterically, begging for my forgiveness!” Maelessa explained, gesturing wildly with her hands. Erryk and Daemon had caught up now and stood behind her, listening. Rhaenyra shook her head. “Vhagar killed Luke but it was not on Aemond’s orders. My grandsire always said that the idea that we control our dragons is an illusion. He was right.”

“I don’t care how much he begged for your forgiveness, I don’t care for his tears. He robbed me of my son and I am not as eager to forgive as you. I sent you a raven a few days ago. I was going to spare Aemond’s life if you returned home willingly. That offer has expired,” the queen spat. Maelessa frowned.

“I never got your raven. Must’ve been eaten by Vhagar. Surely you realise you’ll have no support from me if you intend to murder the man I’m set to marry?” she asked. In the battle between green and black, Maelessa was constantly torn. She wanted her mother on the throne, like her grandsire had always said. But she didn’t want war, didn’t want bloodshed, didn’t want dead dragons littering the city. And she couldn’t let Aemond die. She wouldn’t.

“Your dragon is too small for warfare anyw- what is that?” Rhaenyra asked, stepping forward. Maelessa looked down and realised her robe had slipped, exposing the crimson AEMOND on her chest. She raised her chin and straightened her back, owning it.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” she asked. Even when he used a knife, his handwriting was neat and beautiful.

“Did he do this to you?” Rhaenyra asked, reaching forward to touch it just like Alicent had a few days prior.

“I wanted it,” was all Maelessa said, a tone of defiance in her voice. Rhaenyra pulled her hand back and stared at her daughter in disbelief. A thousand emotions danced in her eyes before disgust seemed to settle.

“He’s sick! You both are!”

“Where’s Jacaerys?” Maelessa asked, changing the topic.

“Don’t deflect, Maelessa, I’m trying to talk some sense into you!”

“No need, your best friend Alicent already gave me the whole speech. Where’s Jace?” she asked. She hadn’t asked to be kidnapped and forced to come to Dragonstone, yet now she stood here being forced to answer for things her mother had nothing to do with. Rhaenyra sighed, calming herself down enough to answer.

“Jacaerys took Vermax and flew north to Winterfell, seeking an ally in the Starks, the same day Luke flew to Storm’s End.”

Rage flared up in Maelessa again. Luke was too young for such a quest, her mother should have known.

“Why would you send Luke?” she questioned. “He’s- he was just a kid!”

“I would have sent you, were you here!” Rhaenyra countered, the two women growing increasingly hysterical.

“You could have sent Daemon, you could have gone yourself. There’s Baela, Rhaena, Rhaenys,” she listed them off on her fingers while she stared at her mother.

“Do not stand here and blame me for my son’s death!” Rhaenyra shouted. “Blame the kinslayer you love so much!”

“I do blame you!” Maelessa screamed, enraged. “You sent a child to Storm’s End with nothing but demands! Aemond at least came with an offer of marriage!” she yelled, making her mother laugh out loud, but it sounded more like a snort.

“Your beloved murderer is marrying someone else? You do understand that you’re being used as his whore, don’t you!?”

Now Maelessa’s restraint broke and she screamed loud enough for the whole castle to hear.

“SHUT UP! You don’t know anything about Aemond and me because you’ve never cared enough to ask! I’ve been brought back here against my will, I will NOT stand here and listen to you berate me and call me a whore!” she shrieked, turning on her heel and stomping out of the council room, running off to find a maester. She had to send a raven to Aemond. She wiped her tears and found some parchment and a quill to write with. She explained to him what had happened, how Daemon and Erryk had plotted to steal her away in the night. She assured him that she had no part in it and had no desire to return to Dragonstone. She wrote that she missed him already and that she would find a way to return to him shortly. The Maester was hesitant to send her letter to King’s Landing, but reluctantly agreed.

Maelessa got situated in her new chamber and when she was all alone she wept until she ran out of tears. A war was inevitable now and she didn’t know what to do. Part of her wanted to see her mother take the iron throne, her birthright as the king had declared. But now she feared for Aemond’s life if that came true. The other part of her wanted to see Aemond wearing the conqueror’s crown, sitting the throne. The two of them had formed secret plots to install Aemond on the throne instead of Aegon. But the time wasn’t right, the right opportunity had yet to present itself. And now it was too late, at least for Maelessa to have part in it.

Her first idea was to take Catlys for a ride back to King’s Landing, but cruelly enough, Daemon had chained her up in the volcano and hidden away the key. Catlys cried and screeched when Maelessa failed to work the iron collar off of her neck. Nothing worked. So she fell to her knees and wept even more, hugging her little dragon tight. They fell asleep next to each other that night, and in the morning found that Silverwing had joined them, laying with her enormous snout by Maelessa’s legs. She reached out to stroke the large dragon, and was permitted.

Tag list: @magnificentsapphiresoul @ner-dee @sadgirlxangel

[rosanna-writer]

Love at First Sight's for Suckers (3/5)

Summary: [A Feysand Newsies AU] Rhysand had a reputation. A big reputation. But fortunately for Feyre, a newsie selling papers on the streets of Velaris, tabloid gossip about the handsome, charismatic, hard-partying war-hero of a High Lord's heir means business is booming. That is, until the city's newspaper magnates get greedy, Feyre finds herself an unwitting labor leader at the center of a strike, and Rhys becomes an unexpected ally... Warnings: None

We're back with our favorite Santa Fae <3 HUGE thank you to @itsthedoodle for continuing to beta my gift for @the-lonelybarricade!

Ch. 1 - Got a Feelin' 'bout the Headline | Ch. 2 - Beautiful. Smart. Independent. | Ch. 3 Guts and Glory

You can read the third chapter Here on AO3 or under the readmore.

That night turned out to be the longest of Feyre's life. There was barely time for a few hours of fitful sleep; instead, she was rousing newsies and mobilizing them to get the word out about the price increase before morning.

She started with Lucien. Then Bron and Hart and Alis and Les and Davey, newsies who she'd befriended and who'd listen to her. Once they learned that the marching orders came from the High Lady herself, the rest of the newsies of the Rainbow agreed to the strike readily.

And to Feyre's surprise, they also agreed to fan out across the city, spread the news, and cajole the rest of the city's newsies into striking alongside them. They looked to her for direction, and Feyre found herself dividing up the territory among them—Bone and Salt, Thread and Jewels, Hoof and Leaf.

But no one wanted to take the south side of the Sidra. That was Nesta's turf.

Given the choice, Feyre would rather fight a Middengard Wyrm than cross the Sidra for her sister's help. Any other newsie would probably feel the same; the south side fae were big and unflinchingly loyal to Nesta, who ran her side of the city like a well-oiled machine.

Nothing got past Nesta, though. Before Feyre even had the chance to summon up the courage to go see her sister, a note appeared out of thin air and fluttered down into Feyre's hands.

Waiting on proof that you won't fold at the first sign of trouble — N

That wasn't an outright insult, so Feyre supposed that was the best she could have hoped for. Even if it stung. For all her faults, though, Nesta was true to her word. Feyre pocketed the note and didn't bother with a reply; in the morning, she'd prove to her sister that the newsies of the Rainbow weren't backing down.

But it was more than just Nesta who doubted them. The responses came in one by one from the rest of the city, and they were all the same: they'd back up the Rainbow newsies…but only if Nesta did it first.

This would be a test. Feyre was sure of it, all the way down her bones, as the sky lightened in the east and stacks of papers were readied for distribution. For now, the newsies of the Rainbow would be standing alone.

Though on some level she'd expected it, Feyre's heart still sank at the sight of scabs lining up to buy papers to sell that morning. She wasn't the only one—a fight had nearly broken out immediately. Tensions might have boiled over if Feyre hadn't put an arm out to stop a newsie from charging right at them.

"Listen," she said, gentle but firm enough that the unionized newsies quieted as she spoke to the scabs, "I'm sure you were paid handsomely for this. But it isn't right. You've heard how they speak to us—if you ask Pulitzer, we're all gutter rats willing to stab each other in the back. There's no shame in being poor or lesser fae. We all deserve a fair deal. Every single one of us. So, please, I beg you…throw your papers down and join the strike."

By the time she finished speaking, even the fae passing by and going about their business stopped to listen to her. Feyre hoped the churning in her stomach didn't show on her face. For a few long moments, a heavy silence hung over the square.

One by one, the scabs dropped their papers.

The rest of the stacks of papers at the distribution window sat untouched after that. There hadn't been time to make banners or signs, but it was clear enough that the newsies of the Rainbow fully intended to ensure that every single paper went unsold. After all—by the end of the day, they'd be too out of date to be of use, anyway.

By noon, Feyre supposed, the message was received. She was already thinking ahead to votes and negotiations, demands they could make beyond just lowering the price of papers back down to what it had been originally. The strike might actually succeed.

And then a group of High Fae in identical police uniforms rounded the corner, and Feyre's hopes sank all at once. But she didn't panic, just gritted her teeth—she'd vowed to prove to Nesta that they wouldn't fold at the first sign of trouble, and trouble had arrived.

So Feyre marched forward to meet them. Head held high, she returned their stares and didn't bother glancing back to make sure the newsies of the Rainbow followed her.

The cops might have already been reaching for their nightsticks, but Feyre decided to make one attempt at resolving this peaceably. "Good afternoon," she said evenly, letting her voice carry. "Is there—"

But the thwack of a nightstick colliding with a newsie's jaw cut that short.

Feyre's hands curled into fists, her arms moving up to protect her face on instinct. Around her, the square erupted into chaos—shouting and newsies running in all directions. Something struck her in the side. She cried out in pain, too stunned to make herself incorporeal.

She scrambled backwards, glancing around for a flash of Lucien's red hair. If Feyre had to run, she wouldn't leave without him. All around her, newsies were fleeing or being dragged and winnowed away by police.

A shadow fell over the square, cast by a massive wingspan. An Illyrian warrior—what in the bottomless depths of the Cauldron was he doing in Velaris?—landed with his back to her, unsheathing a sword strapped along his spine. His wings flared out as if to shield her.

A vicious growl escaped the Illyrian. "Touch her again and you die," he spat at the cop, and Feyre recognized the voice. Not just any Illyrian warrior— Rhysand.

With a single deft movement of his wrist, Rhys used his sword to knock the nightstick out of the closest policeman's hand. It clattered to the pavement and rolled towards Feyre.

"What are you doing here?" Feyre hissed, picking up the nightstick.

"I told you I'd publicly support a strike, didn't I?"

There was no time to demand an explanation, not when Lucien was still nowhere in sight. Feyre threw herself into the fray. Hands grabbed at her, but she knocked them away with the nightstick before anyone could winnow her.

If they caught her, she'd end up in the Prison. Once, Feyre had nearly found herself trapped on that barren island of rock on the western shore. She wouldn't let it happen today, either.

She called Lucien's name, searching for any sign of him. There was none, but perhaps he'd already gotten to safety…

No, there he was, all the way across the square. Feyre called his name as she launched herself towards him. A cop was charging at Lucien, ready to strike or winnow him away.

Feyre reached for Lucien. So did the cop. But Lucien didn't see—he'd turned his head at the sound of her voice, and the officer was on the side where his missing eye narrowed his field of vision.

And Feyre wasn't fast enough. Her fingers closed around empty air. Lucien was gone.

Not just gone—taken to the Prison, with no hope of escaping that island full of monsters. Feyre choked back a sob.

Something tugged in her chest, urgent and insistent, as Rhys's voice filled her mind. Get. Home. I'm holding them off for you.

Feyre didn't need to be told twice—if she stayed any longer, she'd end up in the Prison, too. She faded until she was little more than a ghost, slipping from shadow to shadow until she was back at her tenement.

The Rainbow's High Lady should have been assessing the damage, getting a count of how many newsies had been arrested, and making sure any injured newsies who'd escaped found a healer. But Feyre was tired.

At at the sight of Lucien's empty bed, she finally let out the sob that she'd held back before running away. She'd never felt like a bigger idiot; going up against Pulitzer had been massively stupid, and now her best friend was paying the price. Dreams of a better world were just that—dreams. Nothing more.

So Feyre lifted the floorboard and gathered what she'd saved of the money Rhysand had tipped her. It was long past time to buy that one-way ticket to the Continent.

***

The force of his father's power knocked through Rhys's mental shields like a battering ram. House of Wind. Now.

Rhys sheathed his sword, glancing around the rapidly-emptying square. Feyre had disappeared safely into the shadows, and his work here was done. But the feral instinct to protect his mate hadn't disappeared with her. Rhys shot into the sky, hoping to clear his head before he misted anyone who looked at him the wrong way.

As he flew, Rhys shifted himself out of his leathers and back into a tunic—whatever explanation he gave his father, it would be better received if he looked less Illyrian. Less like a threat, if he was being honest.

But really, the only thing that would quell his father's anger would be telling him that Feyre was his mate. Rhys refused to take that option; his behavior might be excused as protectiveness typical of a mated male, but that wasn't worth exposing Feyre to pressure to accept the bond. She'd resent him for eternity for that.

So Rhys just steeled himself for whatever punishment his father would mete out. He'd endure anything if it meant Feyre had a choice.

The High Lord was waiting on the balcony of the House of Wind, and even from the sky, Rhys could see darkness swirling around him in furious, pulsing waves. He schooled his expression into careful neutrality as he landed.

"Would you please explain," the High Lord said, the mild words no less an ice-cold threat, "what exactly you were doing attacking a police officer in the middle of Velaris just now?"

"Preventing a bloodbath," Rhys said, just as coolly.

For a moment, night rippled between the High Lord and his heir as they stared each other down. Then Rhys's father turned on his heel and strode back into the House of Wind, clearly expecting Rhys to follow.

He hadn't yielded—Rhys knew this tactic well. He matched his father's long strides and awaited the dressing down that was meant to be overheard,not behind closed doors in the High Lord's study.

"A bloodbath might have been just the thing we needed, but everyone saw you protecting their ringleader. Do you understand the chaos that could cause in Velaris? A direct challenge to my authority, from my own heir. I won't have you starting riots, Rhysand."

Servants and courtiers alike scurried out of the way as they walked. Rhys made sure to keep his head held high.

"What they were doing….it wasn't right, High Lord." His father's title tasted like ash on Rhys's tongue.

" Right doesn't matter, keeping the peace does, especially in Velaris. I have half a mind to send you to Illyria if you're so intent on seeing this city burn to the ground."

Rhys nearly stumbled in shock—sending him to Illyria was the closest his father could manage to banishing him. Perhaps though, he shouldn't have been surprised. If the laws of Prythian had allowed it, Rhys suspected his father would have killed him before Rhys had a chance to ever challenge him for the throne.

"Velaris is my home now."

"You aren't acting like it. Undermine me again and I'll order Devlon to strip you of your rank and put you on border duty in the coldest corner of the Steppes."

A warning was more generous than Rhys had any right to expect. Though in truth, he suspected it wasn't mercy so much as his father's desire to keep a close eye on him that was allowing him to stay in the city for now.

"Thank you, father," he said with a curt nod.

They reached the High Lord's study, and the door slamming in Rhys's face was dismissal enough. That was fine. Feyre was probably off somewhere marshaling the newsies that hadn't been arrested, and Rhys would give her time to handle that before checking to make sure she'd gotten some safely.

Gods, he wanted to see her though.

To pass the time instead, Rhys began making his way down to the library to brood. But the sound of Mor calling his name made him freeze. A faint note of panic in her voice nearly had him reaching for his sword.

"Thank the Mother you're still here. I was just at Ressina's," Mor said.

Rhys stilled. "The theater?"

"There was some artwork I bought from her. And you should go there now because I saw—" Mor cut herself off then glanced around, eyes going wide. Rhys understood; privacy wasn't always a given in the House of Wind. Dropping her voice lower, she added, " You know who is there, talking about leaving for the Continent tonight. Go get her."

Rhys didn't need to be told twice. He set off at a sprint toward the balcony, snapped his wings open, and took to the sky. Once he'd climbed above the wards, he winnowed straight to the theater.

Feyre was alone on stage, painting mountains on a backdrop and looking as peaceful as Rhys had ever seen her. The beauty of it stopped him in his tracks halfway down the center aisle. She'd captured the majesty of the craggy peaks in Illyria—but with a hazy, otherworldly quality as if she'd seen them in a dream.

"What do you want, Rhys?" she said without turning around.

"An explanation."

"Of what? Why the strike was a colossal failure?"

"Of why you're planning on running away."

At that, Feyre spun on her heel, holding the paintbrush as if it were a javelin to throw at him. Her blue-grey eyes flashed as Rhys climbed the stairs to the stage and got closer. "Mother's tits, my best friend got dragged to the Prison today . I'm not putting anyone else at risk."

"I didn't take you for a female who backs down from a challenge."

For a moment, Rhys was sure she was about to strike him. And he probably would have deserved it. Feyre just sighed and went back to her painting.

"I tried sending a note to Lucien," she said quietly, "but he was too beat up to even send an answer back. If he doesn't make it…"

Rhys's eyes drifted to a crumpled piece of paper at her feet. "Then what's that?"

"A message from Nesta, saying next time we can count on the south side newsies. Easy for her to say when there won't be a next time."

It had been a while since Rhys had seen anyone with this sort of bitterness in their voice and defeated slump in their shoulders. He recognized it all the same—from his time in war-camps after lost battles. The drinking and partying that the gossip columns loved to write about so much had been his way of getting sights like that out of his head, to chase away thoughts of what might have happened to soldiers captured by Hybern.

He'd never expected Feyre to look broken that way.. But Rhys had commanded a legion; he knew what to do.

"Get your head on straight, Archeron," he said, a note of command creeping into his voice. Feyre stiffened for a moment, but kept painting. He pressed on. "You're winning, and don't be stupid enough to throw it away now. Pulitzer called on my father for support because you had him scared. And after what happened in the square, all of Velaris knows it. So keep moving forward."

For a long moment, Feyre said nothing, just kept adjusting the shading on one of the mountains. Rhys began to wonder if she was determined to ignore him until he left—she was certainly stubborn enough.

"Why do you care? You're a prince. I don't see why this matters so much to you," she said eventually.

Rhys couldn't tell her that the thought of an ocean between them was already ripping his heart in two. But he didn't have to lie, either.

"Because I'm Illyrian. I spent seven years breaking the news to families that they'd lost a loved one because High Fae bastards like my father think of my mother's people as cannon fodder and nothing more. Most of the newsies are lesser fae, and you can't tell me Pulitzer doesn't see you the same way. There are enough camp-lords who hate my father enough that they'll lend their support if you ask for it, and with Nesta on board, that's a powerful coalition."

Again, Feyre said nothing. But he watched as she dipped a new brush into silvery paint and slowly added three stars atop the mountain in the center of the backdrop. That was answer enough.

She turned and studied him, and Rhys had never felt more exposed than he did under the weight of her gaze. Feyre had a way of seeing right to the center of him, and when she'd drawn his portrait, it was as if she'd reproduced it on newsprint for the whole world to see.

"Does that mean you're in this with me? All the way to the end?"

Not for the first time, Rhys wondered if she knew what they were to each other. There were times—like now—that he felt the bond so acutely that every breath seemed to pull on a cord tied to his ribs. If he were a worse male, he would have slid past her shields to see if her question meant what he suspected.

But that wouldn't change his answer. "You have me. Everything I can give, for as long as you need, Feyre."

She set the paintbrush down. "Then let's get back to work."

[kittenintheden]

Not Your Sweetheart Ch 44 - Nevertheless

Not Your Sweetheart Chapter 44 - Nevertheless

The one where I absolutely delight in reminding everyone that Astarion has a dead average 10 charisma and an 18 CHA Tav gives him a run for his goddamn money in all the best and most angsty ways.

AKA "gets away with it bc hottie w/a body" meets "wins every social interaction and is also troubled and hot."

AKA the seducer gets seduced and he's mad about it, until he isn't.

But also it's a whole campaign? You know. Do not enter unless you're expecting true-to-life D&D -- everyone hot as hell but stupid as fuck. Get your top-shelf found family and hotties battling for flirt dominance tropes here. 

---

Act 3 continues to be terrible, but this time Orin is here and the circus was bad and it's time to finally head in to Baldur's Gate proper for yet another big reveal. Read on AO3.

Commissioned piece of the dorks by the fantastically talented @hamrikaa (see the full thing in Ch 10).

---

Getting to the far side takes longer than expected thanks to an unexpected invitation to the coronation of a bloody Archduke. After meeting Lord Enver Gortash in the flesh at hearing how he spoke to Karlach after what he’d done, Ori is feeling perfectly at peace with the deal she’s made with Orin.

Of course, she’d made a similar deal with Gortash, and what he didn’t know would most assuredly hurt him. Even so, it felt wretched to play along for even a moment. Karlach seems to be in agreement. Though she begrudgingly agreed that they couldn’t exactly punch the bastard’s lights out in the middle of a well-attended coronation with bonus robots, she was exceedingly grouchy about it. Flame continues to lick over her limbs occasionally.

But now they’re on the far side of Wyrm’s Crossing. A few more steps and they’ll be in Baldur’s Gate proper at last. With one last bolstering breath, they cross over the threshold and reach their destination.

Well. A portion of it.

Ori looks around. She’d grown up near the drow stronghold all her life, but this is the first large city she’s ever been in on the surface. There’s so… much. Building after building, roads stretching in deeper, towers and walls stretching off into the distance.

The others begin to catch up. Wyll approaches behind Karlach and blows out a shaky breath.

“Home sweet home,” he says. He doesn’t sound especially happy about it.

“Home sweet home,” Astarion echoes quietly.

Ori glances his way to find him staring into the distance, his eyes flitting over the city without landing on any one thing for long. His throat bobs and he fidgets with his hands. She reaches out to put a hand on his arm.

“You okay?” she says.

He looks at her and gives a slight nod. “Yes, it’s just… the first time I’ve seen these streets in the light in two hundred years.” His next words are soft, sad. “You can forget just how much color is in the world.”

[wolveria]

On Frozen Wings - Ch 1

Pairing: Crosshair x Hunter

Rating: 18+ only, Explicit

After Hunter nearly lost everything, his family is slowly piecing itself back together. Omega is safe, Echo might stick around for a while, and Crosshair... Well. Crosshair never makes things easy, but sometimes, he does make them simple. Crosshair wants him. Unfortunately, Hunter has no idea what to do with this information.

AO3

Hunter wasn’t sure how it was quieter with more people on the ship, but somehow, it was.

The tension on the Remora was a far cry from what it’d been on their way to Barton IV. That flight had been filled with a crackling thickness that forced a subdued atmosphere and silent ride.

This was different. Something had changed on the planet, and it wasn’t just that Hunter and Crosshair were on speaking terms again, though that was a small miracle itself. And to think, it had only taken Hunter nearly being eaten by an ice wyrm to make that happen.

Considering how their fights usually went, this one went rather smoothly. No black eyes, no broken bones. No one had even thrown a punch. Hungry beasts were tame in comparison.

Maybe that explained the strange space between them now. Strange, because it was peaceful. Deceptively so. Hunter once again found himself focused on Crosshair wherever he was in the ship, tracking him by scent, sound, and that unique bioelectric signature that belonged only to him.

But he wasn’t going to follow Crosshair like a lost pup, or the shadow Crosshair accused him of being. He wasn’t.

He just… happened to find himself in the same part of the ship as Crosshair. That’s all. Hunter wasn’t thinking about the questions left unanswered. When had Crosshair’s chip actually been removed, why had he killed an Imperial officer, and what had really happened back on that ice planet.

Hunter had watched him place the helmets one by one, arranging them on the crate like a memorial. Something… significant had happened there, and the way Crosshair held one particular helmet wrapped in old bindings filled Hunter’s chest with both a dull ache and a sharp, cold sting.

Hunter refused to think about how he’d never seen Crosshair so tender and careful before. These were strangers to Hunter, but not to Crosshair. He’d lived a whole other life, away from them.

Away from Hunter.

No, he definitely wasn’t thinking about that. He was not thinking about it so hard that he failed to notice Crosshair right in front of him in the corridor, a brow raised at Hunter’s errant wandering.

Or, perhaps, not so errant.

“Following me again, Hunter?”

Hunter scowled, but it was out of embarrassment rather than annoyance as he glanced away from where Crosshair stood conveniently in his path.

“No.”

The brows rose even higher.

“Really.”

“Yeah. Really.”

The silence begged for something to fill it, and Hunter did with a grumbled, “Was just… walking the ship.”

“Uh-huh.”

Hunter’s gaze snapped to his, but Crosshair’s expression was one of vague amusement. There was no resentment or anger. Hunter could admit it was a nice change.

Hunter relaxed, giving a half shrug and a little smile to acknowledge his answer was, perhaps, ridiculous.

“Our ship’s not meant to hold so many people. Guess I wanted to stretch my legs while I had the chance.”

“Didn’t get enough of that with the wyrm trying to bite you on the ass?”

A chuckle startled out of him. He’d missed Crosshair’s sharp tongue and scathing wit, especially when it was used for amicable teasing rather than ripping him to shreds. Oh, how Crosshair excelled at targeting all of Hunter’s weak points.

“That? That was nothing compared to some of the creatures we’ve come across,” Hunter said. “Last one almost swallowed the Marauder whole.”

Crosshair rolled his eyes, his own posture relaxed as he leaned one shoulder against the corridor wall.

“How did you ever survive without me?”

Hunter’s humor faded. Not very well, he could admit to himself.

Crosshair’s amusement also vanished, studying Hunter’s face with closer scrutiny than he was used to. None of the others looked at him that way, or when they tried, like Wrecker had been the last few months, Hunter simply skirted around the observation and pretended everything was fine.

It hadn’t been, for a long time. Only within the past day, the past few hours, did Hunter realize his hope hadn’t been completely extinguished.

“Come on.”

Hunter blinked out of his daze, but Crosshair didn’t wait for him, slipping down the hallway until he disappeared from view. And like a second shadow, Hunter followed.

They ended up in the cargo hold, mostly empty due to Echo being between missions for Rex. There were a handful of crates around, and one was growing a collection of armor as Crosshair was in the middle of stripping off pieces.

Hunter stared, dumbfounded. Clearly, he’d missed a very crucial part of their conversation.

Crosshair looked over his shoulder and gave an amused huff at whatever face he was making. Hunter certainly couldn’t guess.

“How long’s it been since you’ve properly sparred with someone?”

Oh. Sparring.

“Well…”

He tried to think. They hadn’t had much downtime to begin with, but after Omega had been taken and Hunter had focused everything into finding her, he’d had too much time on his hands during their stints in hyperspace. Too much time to think about all the mistakes he’d made and the ways he’d failed. A distraction had been sorely needed, and sparring would have been perfect.

But since it had been only him and Wrecker, and they hadn’t been able to spar with Wrecker for years because of his enhanced strength, something they’d learned after he’d accidentally broken Tech’s collarbone…

So, not since Kamino. Not since… they’d left Crosshair.

“A long time.”

Crosshair hummed, the tone of it not indicating his thoughts one way or another.

“Here’s your chance,” Crosshair said. “Sounds better than pacing the ship, doesn’t it? Especially if we’re just going to keep running into each other.”

Hunter could hear the amused tint of the words, the way Crosshair’s mouth curved even if he couldn’t see it, and it was the kind of teasing that used to drive Hunter mad. He didn’t realize how much he’d missed it until he no longer had it.

Crosshair bent down to slip off his boots, and he chose that moment to look back at Hunter and catch him staring. Now that he’d been staring at anything in particular, he was just—

“Are you going to strip, or do I need to do it for you?”

Hunter looked away, grinding his teeth together.

Little shit.

Sparring did sound like a good way to get rid of this odd tension he couldn’t identify. It wasn’t a bad sort of tension, not the kind he felt after seeing Crosshair again after so long. That shock had been a punch to the gut, especially after the bone-deep relief of having Omega again.

To have her back, and on the heels of that, Crosshair dropping back into their lives had been like a plunge out of hyperspace with a broken hyperdrive.

Reconciling with Crosshair had been what they needed, and everything should be fine now, right? So why did his gut tighten whenever they were in the same room?

Yeah, maybe this was what he needed. A distraction and a way to work off excess energy.

Hunter hadn’t taken off his chest plate since the ice planet, and he did so now, along with his one remaining pauldron. It was hard to imagine all that was left of his old armor was his cuirass, helmet, and greaves. Even his bandana hadn’t survived the blood and violence he and Wrecker had waged for any scrape of information they could find.

His mind had wandered again—he didn’t even notice that Crosshair had moved closer, only a few feet away and stripped down to his blacks. His arms were crossed, but there was a lightness to his face, bordering on mischief.

“How many layers are you wearing?”

Hunter glanced down at himself. He’d gotten past the green vest, and the tan undervest, which left the brown long-sleeved shirt and his bicep pads—

“It’s protection,” Hunter muttered.

“There’s something else that does a better job of that,” Crosshair said, his eyes bright with silent laughter. “You may have heard of it.”

“Katarn-class armor isn’t exactly for sale at the local market.”

“So, you decided to go without? That’s much better.”

Hunter purposefully glared as he stripped the rest of his outfit. It was a good thing they were going to spar soon, Hunter would happily throw the first punch. Though with the amused tilt to Crosshair’s mouth, he wondered if that was the point.

Hunter pulled off his gloves and gauntlets next, making a show of the exposed armor under the maroon bindings. Crosshair rolled his eyes.

“Well, thank the Maker, your arms have protection.”

Little shit, Hunter repeated as he fought down his own smile.

The running commentary didn’t stop when Hunter removed his gun belt, and Crosshair said, “Didn’t realize you like to live so dangerously, Hunter. That thigh-strap is awfully close to your—”

“Are you going to do this the whole time?”

Crosshair released a sharp breath that wasn’t quite laughter but was close enough to fill Hunter’s chest with warmth. He still scowled at the boots he pulled off his feet, though.

“Not if you’d hurry up,” Crosshair purred. “We’ll pick up the reg before you’re even halfway done.”

Hunter let out a soft growl and turned away. His hands kept fumbling with Crosshair staring at him like that, lips slanted in unending delight at Hunter’s discomfort, but his eyes too narrow and watchful, as if each revealed layer required new scrutiny. Hunter fidgeted like a bug under glass.

He hesitated before pulling off his pants. The armor plating was attached to them, so he couldn’t leave them on. Traditionally, they always sparred in their body gloves, it was fairer and prevented any serious injuries besides what they could cause with their own bodies.

He sighed. It wasn’t anything Crosshair hadn’t glimpsed in the communal shower or even in their old barracks. It was fine. It wasn’t strange.

Hunter kept telling himself that as he shucked off his pants and pulled off the last layer of his upper body. What he wore underneath was… a very truncated version of a black body suit. The upper portion only covered his chest and his shoulders, leaving his arms and hands bare.

The bottom half was even more lacking, only covering his groin and upper thighs. It kept him from overheating with all the additional layers, but that wasn’t much of a reassurance when he felt Crosshair’s sharp eyes taking him in from head to foot.

“What?” Hunter folded his arms across his chest—not because he was trying to shield himself from that piercing stare. Definitely not.

“Nothing,” Crosshair said in a way that meant he had many thoughts he could share, none of them he would.

“Right.” Hunter rolled his shoulder, trying to shake off the new tension that had crept up on him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been such a bundle of raw nerves, but it had probably involved Crosshair. It always did. “Any rules?”

“No killing each other.”

“Thought that went without saying.”

Crosshair’s small but toothy smile reminded him of a predator whose hunger had been piqued.

“Just want to be thorough. Other than that, no boundaries.”

Against anyone else that might be good news, Hunter was deadly in close quarters, but Crosshair fought dirty. Suddenly, his bare skin felt a lot more exposed.

“Sounds good to me,” Hunter said, and he hoped none of his trepidation showed. Hunter might be more prone to biting under stress due to his enhancements, but Crosshair was more than happy to dig his teeth into body parts that got too close to his mouth.

Yeah. Hunter was probably coming out of this bloody.

They moved apart nearly at the same moment, their postures slipping into old fighting stances, comfortable in their familiarity. Too many of their battles these days involved blasters or short, brutal fights that relied on aggression rather than finesse.

Hunter was eager for this, he realized, but at the same time… he held back, hesitant, as they circled each other. The last time he’d fought Crosshair, he’d been trying to kill Hunter, cut him open with his own vibroblade. It wasn’t something he could forget, even if he’d forgiven Crosshair.

And he had. His resentment and bitterness had been buried in the snow of Barton IV. But that didn’t mean he knew where they stood now. The hope felt fragile, and he was afraid to break it with a wrong move or misspoken word.

If Crosshair was feeling any hesitation, he neglected to show it. He rolled his eyes and drew Hunter’s attention to the wide space between them.

“I thought we were sparring, not dancing.”

“Come over here, then.”

Crosshair’s lips twitched upward.

“You first.”

It was an invitation if Hunter was ever going to get one. Crosshair was okay with this, really okay with this, even if it got violent. Which… Hunter wasn’t actually interested in. Not that he ever was, but when it was Crosshair trying to force him into submission, all fists and teeth and lanky limbs, it lit a blaze in Hunter that made him more animal than human—

Air exploded from his lungs as Crosshair’s shoulder hit him hard in the gut, dragging them both to the ground. Apparently, the sniper got tired of waiting.

Hunter was quick, flipping Crosshair over his head and scrambling for him, less than graceful on the metal slats instead of their usual padded mats. He might have been hesitant before, but he wasn’t now, driving Crosshair back to the floor with a combination of thrown weight and gravity.

It was a messy, tangled struggle after that. Nearly all their sparring matches devolved into a contest of who could pin the other fastest. Hunter usually won if he didn’t allow Crosshair to grab him from behind. His height and longer limbs gave him the advantage when Hunter couldn’t reach him, though a jab to the ribs and a hook around his ankle almost always got them back on even ground.

Hunter should have won this round too, but there was an intensity to Crosshair that caught him by surprise, and when the sniper pinned him flat on his back, he stayed there. Mostly because he didn’t want to move and lose sight of Crosshair’s peculiar expression.

It was focused, as it usually was, but layered with a dark intensity that made Hunter’s mouth run dry. Crosshair straddled his hips, his fingers curled around Hunter’s wrists, holding them above his head.

Something about this felt… familiar. Back in their cadet days, sparring matches tended to be most often between them, as Tech wasn’t interested and Wrecker was getting too big for them to do it safely.

Not that anything Crosshair and Hunter did could be labeled safe. Their matches would quickly escalate to black eyes, bruises, and bite marks. Until one day it had escalated to something else.

Nothing happened. Nothing ever happened. They had just been going through the unpredictable swings of hormones during adolescence, a fact they only knew because Tech gave them almost daily updates on his own bodily changes, and Wrecker would enthusiastically contribute with his own.

Nothing had happened, except two sweaty cadets accidentally brushing their aching erections against each other. And then doing it again. Neither of them speaking about these accidental touches, and if they both hurried off to the showers separately afterwards, that didn’t need to be mentioned, either.

So Crosshair leaning forward and rubbing his hard length against Hunter’s equally stiff erection was a shock to his gut, equally familiar and not. They were no longer naïve cadets, and this was no accident.

“Crosshair,” he choked out.

“Yes?”

Crosshair purred around the word, but his eyes were watchful, nearly to the point of wariness, waiting for Hunter to speak. But he had no idea what the hell he wanted to say, frozen like the proverbial nuna trapped under the nexu.

“I…” Hunter finally stumbled out. “What… are you doing?”

Crosshair’s eyes narrowed.

“I thought it was obvious.”

A comment like that might ordinarily earn Crosshair a glare and sharp retort, but Hunter struggled to find where all his air went.

“We…” He swallowed to get his dry throat some relief. “We can’t…”

Hunter’s appeal for Crosshair to see reason might have been more effective if he didn’t groan when the sniper rolled his hips and rubbed their clothed erections together.

“We can, Hunter.” His eyes blazed, staring straight through him and leaving all his old yearnings exposed. “We can.”

But will you? was the unspoken question Crosshair didn’t voice. Hunter didn’t have an answer to that, either. He was still reeling from the idea that Crosshair even wanted him in this way.

And then Crosshair leaned down, so close that Hunter thought he might kiss him, and he held his breath, frozen. Hunter could—and had—faced down battalions of battle droids without flinching, but the sight of Crosshair’s lips hovering over his might be enough to earn his surrender.

At the last moment, Crosshair changed course, his lips tracing over the dark lines of Hunter’s tattooed jaw until his breath warmed his ear.

“Say yes.”

Hunter closed his eyes. He wanted to, stars, he wanted to. Every inch of his body ached with the need to say yes, but he couldn’t. They’d just gotten Crosshair back. He couldn’t do anything to risk that, wouldn’t do anything that might eventually make him leave.

There had been reasons why Hunter hadn’t given in to temptation when they were cadets or troopers. He could have, oh he could have, so easily with Crosshair. Or possibly with regs who had reminded him of Crosshair, but he hadn’t.

The reasons were different now. He didn’t have to worry about pissing off some Kaminoans with their frigid ideas of “appropriate interpersonal conduct,” and he was no longer a sergeant. No longer a soldier. He wasn’t even their leader anymore, not really.

But he couldn’t… they couldn’t…

The noise that came out of him when Crosshair pressed his mouth to Hunter’s neck was embarrassing, startled and needy.

“Say yes,” Crosshair growled against his skin. Hunter’s ability to think, let alone speak, was shot to hell when he sucked on the spot just under his jawline.

Hunter kept his mouth firmly shut as he tried to find the words to explain why this was a kriffing bad idea, but then Crosshair released his wrists and instead dug his fingertips against Hunter’s chest. He used the leverage to grind down harder, and Hunter could practically see stars.

He knew it then. He wouldn’t say no. He couldn’t deny Crosshair anything, not really. And he wouldn’t deny him this, not when it took all of Hunter’s strength not to flip them over and rut against Crosshair like an animal in heat.

So he kept his hands firmly at his sides, and even that was dangerous with them so close to Crosshair’s long, coltish legs.

Hunter tilted his head further to the side, a show of surrender. It was the best he could offer when a part of him still insisted this was the wrong decision, that neither of them were thinking clearly and Crosshair would regret his actions later. Wasn’t that how they got here to begin with?

But that was only a small part of Hunter. The rest of him relished how Crosshair purred in victory and sucked one last spot on his neck before he sat up. His pupils were blown, and his lips were slightly swollen from the rough treatment to Hunter’s neck.

They looked damned delicious, but before Hunter could consider what would happen if he kissed him, Crosshair shifted upright on his knees. He separated his body glove and tugged the lower half down just enough to free his cock.

He was longer than Hunter but not as thick, and he was already leaking copious amounts of precum. Hunter’s mouth watered at the sight, the scent of Crosshair’s arousal even more potent now, and it was a miracle he could keep his hands to himself and simply watch.

Crosshair pulled down the waistband of Hunter’s suit and pulled out his length. He stared at it with a devouring expression that reminded Hunter of what sometimes happens when he gets too close to Crosshair’s teeth.

And then he’s not thinking anything at all as Crosshair wrapped his long fingers around their shafts and thrust forward. The noise that Hunter made sounded almost painful, a ragged groan and gasp, and he failed to keep his hands frozen at his sides, instead gripping onto Crosshair’s calves as if to steady himself. Or keep him firmly on the ground before he floated off into space.

Crosshair kept going, setting a pace that was neither gentle nor slow. Hunter would have thought he’d been more teasing, drag it out just to watch Hunter squirm, but something in his movements were almost desperate. Frantic.

It was all Hunter could do to brace himself, pleasure zipping up and down his spine at a speed that would leave him ruined. Crosshair’s warm hands, the calluses against his skin, the shock of friction between their lengths.

Yeah, he was ruined.

The buildup was quick after that. Too much time apart, years of unanswered yearning and buried desires, Hunter wasn’t going to last long. His bandana came loose, and Crosshair tugged it off, twisting his fingers in the freed locks of his hair, and pulled.

It was nearly enough to hurt, dancing the line between pleasure and pain until they melded, and Hunter arched his back. He gripped Crosshair’s legs and thrust up once, twice, and spilled over Crosshair’s skilled fingers. Fingers that shook when holding a weapon but were steady now as he carried Hunter through his trembling orgasm.

Something gave way inside him, a dam burst after a lifetime of holding back. The grief of losing Crosshair, the piercing ache of rejection and betrayal, the agony of trying to keep Crosshair at a safe distance upon his return, none of it remained intact. The relief shuddered through him, a soft hitch like a sob in his throat.

Hunter didn’t feel the tears until they trickled into his hairline. He wasn’t… crying… or maybe he was? He couldn’t remember the last time he had cried, possibly when he was a cadet. But something within him had cracked, and the released pressure made him feel boneless, warm, and wonderfully brittle.

It was good. Hunter knew that much. The tension was gone, his senses thrummed in a way that was almost overstimulation, and Crosshair—

—was looking at him with a wide-eyed expression of horror.

Hunter blinked stupidly. Not understanding when Crosshair pulled away, hastily rearranging his body glove to cover himself—and things certainly weren’t clearer when the sniper grabbed his gear and practically fled the room.

Hunter stared at the doorway, half-expecting Crosshair to come back. And wasn’t that a painfully familiar feeling?

He dropped his head, the back of it thudding against the floor, and reluctantly, he put away his softening cock. Hunter grimaced at the stickiness that coated the upper half of his suit, and then he stared at the ceiling, listening to the hum of the ship, waiting for Crosshair’s soft footfalls to return.

They didn’t. Hunter’s heart sank in his chest.

What had he done?

Next Chapter

[landwriter]

Oaths | Dream/Hob | 51K | Explicit | Ongoing Ch.10: Oaths of Darkness and Light (4K)

Falling In Love, Magical Realism, Dream is a Beautiful Fey Creature and Hob is a Handsome Bandit, Protective Hob Gadling, Protective Dream of the Endless, Historical References, Scotland, Middle English, Border Reiving, Adventure & Romance, Fairy Tale Retellings, Alternate Universe - Historical/Medieval/Fairy Tale, finding beauty in hard times, Oaths & Vows, Curses, Outdoor Sex, First Time Blowjobs, Frottage, Anal, Kissing in the Rain, really a lot of banging, Hair Braiding, Dirty Talk, Ballads, Duty, Friendship/Love, Mutual Pining, Miscommunication, Canon Echoes, Self-Denial, Repression, Tenderness, Confessions, Bathing/Washing, Strangers to Lovers, Lovers to Friends, Friends to Idiots, BAMF Hob Gadling, (absolutely fucking feral Hob Gadling), unhinged words and deeds, or: a man and a fey walk into a meadow and they're both equally insane

He moved hidden through the mirk and moonless night. He had no need of torch or light. Rain had patiently gathered, and under the cover of darkness, finally rushed forth, announcing itself upon alder and birchleaf. Hob was glad for it. Within himself, he felt a forge. Desperate, consuming flame licked beneath his skin. His heart was a hammer in his throat. He was fevered with hope, and all he could do was follow the Ettrick upstream, to Miles Cross, to Dream. Only when he arrived before the stone bridge did the agitation in his heart settle at last. He moved into the shadowed gorse, and waited. It was easier than he thought; easier than being in Aikwood as though he were not tethered by his smarting heart to this spot where Dream would appear; easier even than making the journey of less than hour with the strange animal fears that something would stop him from arriving here. He waited, as the rain exhausted itself the night became quiet again. He waited, and thought of Dream, these last two days, alone. With no one to give him advice, no one to wish him well, no one to clasp his arms. With no one to tell. With nothing to do but hope Hob might be true to his word. Hob wished he could reassure him, even now. Wished that he was as fey a creature as they, that he might send sign on bended wing to his love. An owl or sweet nightingale, calling into the night in a tongue only Dream would understand: He loves you. He waits. He loves you. He waits.

And as surely as the Ettrick Water ran, surely as the day did fall and break, did Hob with a certain heart his journey make. Or: the wyrm-ening.

[Read on AO3]

[synthesin]

PERVINCO

tanthamore

ch. blurb : for her pride (all pun intended) kit, unable to accept her fate as a pillow princess, tries to top jade. simple! ...she just has to figure out what the hell she's doing.

cw : bad writing ⋆ lemon (!smut!) ⋆ mature language ⋆ canon compliant ⋆ !! includes - teasing, oral, and fingering ❤︎

chapter word count : 3.2k

ᥫ᭡. ~ as the self-proclaimed overlord of the pillow princess kit crusaders, even i adore the idea of her getting in her ego about being a bottom and trying to top jade. ( im also highly in love with the concept of jade being topped.) so i hope you all enjoy this !

credit to cafekitsune for the lovely dividers and banners (they're all so stinkin' cute, right !!?)

chapter one

Fuck. Kit groaned mentally; it still wasn't enough.

"Done already? We just started," Jade's teasing frustrated her more. She wanted to wipe that smug grin off her face and see it contorted in vexation, irritation, and...pleasure? "Think you're in the position to be distracted, princess?"

Jade's sword swinging at her head pulled Kit from her derailed train of thought. She blocked the attack swiftly, but Jade was just as quick to swing at her chest, immediately slowing it to soften the impact. Kit fell back, smacking the ground in annoyance.

"You didn't strike properly." She chided.

Jade countered, "And you weren't concentrating properly."

She helped Kit off the ground, chuckling as the princess grew angrier. "That doesn't matter! When I'm open, take it; I told you not to hold back anymore."

"I was not holding back; the strength I used was what you can handle for now. Once you surpass that-."

"I can handle more now," Kit ranted, gesturing to her armor.

Jade scoffed and crossed her arms. "Just because you have that cuirass doesn't mean I'm going to strike you to kill."

It was no use arguing back and forth, so Kit shrugged her shoulders and began to walk off. "Whatever, I'll have Boorman actually spare with me." 

"No, you won't." Her voice raised a bit, and though Kit enjoyed the firmness of her tone, it was a bit too much; she didn't back down. Biting the inside of her cheek, she glared back at Jade.

"I won't?" Kit laughed dryly and turned away once more. As stubborn as she was, Jade knew her threat wasn't empty.

Huffing, she sped up to her retreating lover and struck her sword before her. The blade was inches from her throat; Kit turned her head and smiled. Standing still for a moment longer, staring into Jade's eyes, she knocked the sword away with her own and struck back.

A chain attack opened between the two; their surrounding area was filled with grunting and the clashing of steel. Nearby animals scurried off as their spar became more hectic. Jade, being entirely on the offense, oddly excited Kit; her swings were aggressive and unforgiving.

Admittedly, they were becoming more challenging to keep up with, but that's all she wanted; she wouldn't learn if Jade coddled her through training. She'd never be able to protect her against the Wyrm and whatever obstacles it throws at them in her current state.

Her reflexes have gotten better. Jade praised and began attacking faster. She watched Kit stumble slightly, giving her an opening, and as requested, she took it. In one fell swoop, Jade struck Kit's sword, disarming her, and slammed the hilt of her sword right above her diaphragm, knocking the brunette off her feet.

Kit hit the ground harder this time, falling flat on her back, knocking the little bit of air she had left in her chest. Tossing her sword aside, Jade quickly straddled Kit as she tried to recuperate before grabbing her wrists and pinning her down. 

"You've improved greatly, Your Highness," Jade started as she leaned closer, leveling their faces. "But you're still not ready. Understood?" It was too much. Adrenaline was high; their bodies were too close, and everything was getting hotter. Kit whined in response, struggling to free herself from Jade's tight grasp.

"Understood?" Jade repeated, this time just above a whisper and dripping with sultry. Breathlessly, Kit finally replied with a rushed yes and freed her wrist. She pulled Jade into a kiss that became desperate and intense. 

Knowing what was needed, Jade pulled her body off Kit's and kneeled, sitting on her heels, then leaned over to take the Lux Arcana from the cuirass. Deactivated, the shiny body armor contracts, and the breastplate is back in its dull, tattered-looking state. Kit sat up, ripped it from her body, and aimlessly discarded it before straddling Jade and capturing her lips again.

Jade's hands busied themselves with unbuttoning Kit's top as she moved from kissing her lips to her neck. She nibbled and sucked various spots, all receiving the same airy whine. Kit threw her head back, granting Jade more access, and latched her hands into her velvety curls. Pushing open Kit's shirt, Jade's hands went straight to her breast, kneading them softly over her thin brassier. She teasingly peppered kisses over Kit's collarbone and the exposed areas of her chest, laughing softly when her hair was gripped tighter. Kit tugged it back, forcing Jade to look up at her, and immediately attacked her lips.

Feeling she had withheld pleasure from Kit long enough, she began unbuttoning her own top. Before she was halfway down the row of buttons, a twig snapping followed by a deep and familiar 'oh' made her stop dead in her tracks. Hastily, she snatches both sides of Kit's shirt up her shoulders and wraps it closed over her exposed torso before gripping her own together.

Kit instantly removed herself from Jade's lap and turned away from the intruders. Craning her neck, she saw Airk and Boorman standing awkwardly behind them. Only Airk radiated awkwardness; Boorman appeared somewhat amused as he leaned against a tree, giving her a knowing smile. Airk scratched the back of his head, looking anywhere else but them.

The twin cleared his throat, gazing at the suddenly interesting grass while passing his basket filled with wild vegetables between both hands. "Ah...this spot is occupied....We can go find clovers elsewhere; excuse us." 

"Yeah, don't let us stop you! Sparing sessions are important; at least, that's what you said to get out of herb hunting early. Anyway, we'll leave-." Boorman added, receiving a nudge from Airk and a glare from Jade. 

"No! We'll go." Kit rushed out, still not facing the rest; she grabbed the cuirass and its key before rushing off. Boorman coughed to poorly stifle his chuckle, causing Jade to shake her head before picking up her and Kit's sword, following after her.

Come nightfall, the group, tired from traveling and forging, were bathed and huddled around the fire, eating roasted duck. Sparing had worked up Kit's hunger, so her portion didn't last long in her bowl. Jade gave her bowl over, causing Elora to frown.

"You don't like it?"

"I did, I'm just not that hungry."

Mouthful, Boorman chimed in, "Really? After we interrupted your royal feast early, I'd think you'd be famished by now."

A flush crept up on Kit's face, "I. Will. End. You." Sword in hand, she was on her feet just as Jade threw a bone in the cackling man's direction and pulled Kit back beside her. Willow and Airk kept their faces shoved in their bowls to avoid the confrontation.

"Right, this is for you," Elora exclaimed, tossing her a small vial of greenish cream. Kit caught it, tearing her eyes away from Boorman, and scanned it, confused, before letting Jade take it to inspect. "What is it?"

"Helps repel mosquitoes and soothe their bites; they've been rampant. I see one has already gotten to you." After that last line, the rest of the group was thrown into a fit of laughter right along with Boorman. Even Jade was chuckling, which sent Kit over the edge. She snatched up her belongings and then began to storm off.

"Where are you going?" Jade called out, amused when she heard her grumble something about patrolling. 

Going far enough to be unable to them or the fire crackling, Kit threw her things down and screamed in frustration. After straightening her blankets, she sprawled out on her back and sighed. A soft rustle of leaves disrupted her short moment of peace. Kit raised up on her elbows and watched Jade come into view. 

"You forgot something,"

"What?" 

Jade pulled the vial of cream from her pocket, causing Kit to roll her eyes and turn away. Jade's laugh filled the air; it took everything in Kit to keep from smiling. She felt her lay down behind her before being tugged back into her chest. Her lips instantly attached to Kit's neck, making her moan lightly. "What do you think? Will it repel me?" Annoyed, the princess shook off her knight and scooted away. 

"Leave."

"Alright, I'll stop," Satisfied, Kit lay flat on her back again and stared at her. "Brat," Jade muttered, pulling her into a kiss. Kit's body didn't take long to return to the same touch-craved and needy state it was in that afternoon. Their outer layer of clothes was shed soon after, and Jade began gripping and rubbing Kit's inner thigh, causing her head to feel fuzzy. She wanted this, but still, she grabbed Jade's hand, stopping her.

Jade looked at her, confused, "What's wrong," 

"Let me top this time." This caused the redhead to laugh a little before sitting up.

"Why the sudden interest?"

"Well... Why not?" Kit questioned. It wasn't a crazy request, right? The times they 'played,' it's always been her on the receiving end. It's only fair she gets to have a chance.

"Is this because of the teasing?"

"Wha- no," Yes. "Why are you against it? Scared, I'd do better." Kit taunted.

She had to flip the situation around as her body began to betray her. Jade was well aware as she had been lightly dragging her fingertips over Kit's body the entire time. Take advantage of every sensitive zone. She loved seeing her try not to show a reaction, only for her body to jolt a bit as Jade inched past her naval. "I know you can't,"

"It's- mmh," She bit back a moan as Jade slid her hand over her clothed core. "It's not like it's hard," She rushed out and quickly sat up. Jade grinned, unfazed, before pulling Kit on top of her.

"Alright, then do it." Kit's eyes widened slightly at the unexpected response. She was sure Jade would fight her more on the topic, but now that she'd let her win so quickly, everything to do next seemed all jumbled. She straddled her waist and began fidgeting with her hands.

Jade smiled and whispered, 'Go on' after laying flat. She rubbed Kit's thighs softly, waiting patiently for the princess to make her first move. Kit nodded hesitantly and leaned down to kiss Jade.

Topping shouldn't be too hard, but the sudden pressure suffocated her. What was she to do first? How long before moving on to the next thing? What exactly are the things she's to do? Her second mistake was figuring she'd think of the next move while occupying Jade's lips with her own. The first was mindless, challenging Jade tonight. All it took was Jade's tongue invading her mouth to make Kit falter. She tried thinking of what was usually done to her, but the way Jade began biting her low lip and gripping her waist, all that flooded her mind was how wet she was becoming and how she was sure Jade knew. It never failed to amaze herself how much something so simple affected her.

Thinking quick, Kit moved to Jade's neck. Envisioning how Jade gives her love bites, she attempts the same—problem three. The stifled noises she heard slipping past Jade's lips made her proud until they became audible cackles. Jade tried covering her mouth and containing herself, but it was too late.

"I'm sorry-Kit, wait, I didn't mean to laugh." Pushing off over her, Kit sat between Jade's legs and bit her lip in anger. Jade sat up and wiped the tears that formed in her eyes, finally stopping her giggle.

"You're messing me up on purpose."

"I'm not, honestly. It was just a bit funny-."

"It's never funny when you do it to me,"

"That's because I know what I'm doing." Pulling at her hair in frustration, Kit pushed Jade back down. "I know what I'm doing; stop cheating." 

Kit couldn't wrap her head around the ordeal; she did exactly what Jade usually does. So why was it different?

When Jade kisses her neck, Kit loses all control of her senses, and her body listens only to Jade instantly after. So why was it so weird when she tried it?

I won't lose.

Her mind went to the one place she was sure Jade wouldn't be able to giggle if it was kissed. She kissed Jade's lips down to her pelvis. Humming in satisfaction, Jade began playing with and pulling at Kit's hair. "That feels quite nice."

"Don't patronize me," Kit muttered, not sparing her a glance, and tried to ignore how good the hair-pulling felt. Kissing her over the thin cloth, Kit remembered how Jade does it to her—problem four. Hands or mouth, when Jade gets below the belt, Kit's brain stops functioning. She can't even kiss her neck correctly; how was she supposed to do better down here?

Jade condescendingly asked if she was doing alright. Shushing her, Kit stared down at her own hand, confused. Should she start with one or two fingers? One would obviously be first, but she wanted to do her better; more is better. Right?

Kit pulled off the thin cloth and tossed it aside. Let's just wing it, she thought to herself. Her mouth latched onto Jade's clit and began sucking harshly. Before Jade could address her current discomfort mercilessly, two fingers were jabbed into her, causing her to scream out in pain. Kit removed herself at once and watched, worried, as Jade squeezed her legs close and turned over in pain.

"What's wrong? Are you alright?" 

Once the pain eventually let up, Jade huffed out, still clutching herself, and peered at Kit wide-eyed.

"What happened?! You attempting to impale me!"

"I don't get it; I just do what you usually do," Jade clicked her tongue. "I have never done that to you, first of all, and as I said before," She started, pulling Kit flat onto the blanket. "I know what I'm doing, princess," 

True to her word, as soon as her lips touched Kit's neck, a tingly coursed through her body. Instinctively, she wrapped her limbs around Jade and moaned out in pleasure. To add insult to injury, she was doing precisely what Kit had just attempted and far better. She couldn't act like it didn't feel good, even if her life depended on it. Jade began massaging her clit at a torturingly slow speed. Laughing softly into the crook of Kit's neck as she pleaded for her to go faster. Jade obliged and sped up. Occasionally, sliding her fingers between her folds, taunting Kit's entrance. 

"Please, Jade...lick." Jade hummed at her begging, finding it rather cute.

Letting herself be pulled into another messy kiss, she slowed her speed again and smiled as Kit cried out more. Teasing her was something she'd grow tired of.

Kit's hands left Jade's hair and pressed down on top of the hand, tormenting her, trying to force her to go faster. Jade responded by sliding a finger inside her. Kit threw her head back and let out a throaty moan. Her back arched off the ground as Jade kissed down her torso. Her right hand gripping Kit's thigh, forcing her leg apart, giving herself space to lay in front of her dripping core. After pumping out of her a few times, she gave Kit her tongue like she had been begging for.

Whenever she tried wrapping her leg around Jade to hold her closer, she'd receive a hard pinch, forcing her leg back into submission. She was sure her thigh was covered in tiny bruises, and she knew Jade would spend time kissing all of them later, making her wetter. 

Hearing her princess cry out her name made Jade's body quiver. She pulled her finger out of Kit, leaned up, and forced it into her mouth; she watched Kit shamelessly suck on it before pulling her hand away and kissing her. She touched herself with the same hand, and the other quickly entered Kit, adding two fingers. She moaned into Jade's mouth and rode her fingers.

Feeling her climax creeping up, Jade pumped inside both of them faster, kissing along Kit's jaw as she screamed louder as they came. Jade kissed Kit's breast one last time before flopping down beside her. 

Coming down from her high, Kit realized what had happened and slapped her hand on the ground "Fuck," She looked over at Jade and rolled her eyes at the grin on her face.

"Cheater."

"Cheater?! You were me begging so sweetly for more the entire time; I won fair and square."

"Let me try again," Jade shook her head and pushed her exhausted body off the ground, "Absolutely not stabby, c'mon."

Kit groaned and let Jade pull her to her feet and shuffle along bitterly as she was led to a spot for them to relieve and clean themselves. She can't lose like this, she thought sorely to herself. Not only would Jade never let her live it down, but she was also sure the others' incessant teasing would drive her insane. Jade led them to a waterfall nearby, pulling Kit under the pouring water and kissing her pouting lips.

The cool water felt nice against their warm bodies; tonight was particularly humid, making the cold shower much more appreciated. Jade racked her hands through Kit's short hair, letting the water wash away the sweat.

Kit began badgering her again. "This time was just practice; let me try again." Jade, acting as if she couldn't hear her over the rushing water, began rubbing her body down. She took time gently rubbing and kissing all the forming bruises on her body that came from their spar, and as predicted, when she saw the tiny bruises littering Kit's inner thigh, she kissed every one of them gingerly. 

"You're not being fair," Kit moaned, trying to steady herself; Jade's kissing was getting dangerously close. Her torment ended as Jade stood and began rubbing her own body down. Not even attempting to act as if she was helping, Kit's hands rested on her breasts and began groping them. Jade wiped the water from her face and smiled as Kit leaned in and kissed her.

It was slow and sweet. Jade cupped Kit's jaw, deepening the kiss before pulling away and resting their forehead together. They stood there holding each other, letting the water rain down on them. Kit sighed out contently. She loved how Jade was with her after sex; it helped clear her mind. Especially with their current predicament, they both needed moments like this.

Once the coolness of the water became too much to bear, the pair finally made their way back to their pallet. Silently, they took turns drying each other off and putting back on their clothes.

Jade hummed, "I'll let you try again," Beaming Kit pecked her on the lips. "Stab into me like that again, and I'll have you regret it, your highness."

Coyly, Kit smiled, "What will you do to me?"

"You'll find out; now, let's sleep. We'll need the rest."

Kit obeyed, leaning against the bags as makeshift pillows, and opened her arms. Jade laid in them and got comfortable, tightly wrapping her arm around Kit's waist. Her face nuzzled against her princess's chest, making her hum contentedly. Kit kissed her damp hair one last time before they both let slumber overcome them. 

ᥫ᭡. ~ don’t you just love it when sapphics. yea me too. part two, the final part in progress ❤︎

[princessofmerchants]

Cassian dreaming of Gwydion and foreshadowing Ataraxia and his own HEA 😭🙌🏻

[Cassian observing Ataraxia on Rhys's desk]

"The great sword's hilt was a simple cross guard, the pommel a rounded bit of metal.

Gwydion, the last of the magic swords, had been dark as night and as beautiful.

How many games had Cassian played as a child with Rhys and Azriel, where a long stick had been a stand-in for Gwydion? How many adventures had they imagined, sharing that mythical sword between them, as they slew wyrms and rescued damsels?

Never mind that Rhys's particular damsel had slain a wyrm herself and rescued him instead."

—ACOSF, ch. 42

My absolute favorite HOFAS spoiler after the break as I lose my mind over this moment in ACOSF after having read HOFAS 🥹

I am screaming at how this moment is in ACOSF, Nessian's book — then cut to HOFAS where Cassian's badass mate Nesta slays a damned wyrm with the same magical sword he's looking at here (which she herself Made by the way 💁🏼‍♀️), the same one that makes him think of Gwydion, which in fact is in his very same mate's possession by the end of HOFAS 😭🙌🏻‼️

All the times I read this before HOFAS, there was always something kind of bittersweet and sad about the way Cass's train of thought here ends on Rhys and Feyre and how badass his High Lady is, and how grateful Cass clearly is for the way she saves his brother by loving him...

I always assumed SJM was partly leaning into the fairytale trope of dragon slaying by looking back to that very first book in the series where she brought the Middengard Wyrm onto the page and used it to further characterize her main heroine at the time, Feyre.

Little did we know SJM, with this moment in ACOSF, was also pointing to the future and, for Cassian in particular, creating an echo simultaneously forward and back in time to when his own mate would go on to not only slay the same kind of wyrm, but would do it wielding the immense power of the very same new magical sword, Ataraxia, on the table before him — and only because he loves her and trains her to wield it 😭🙌🏻

Cass is filled with such longing in this moment. I'm floored in the most amazing SJM-induced way that this longing ABSOLUTELY gets fulfilled.

And again, in past readings of ACOSF that fulfillment was legible in part by how at the end of ACOSF Nes finally claims Cass as her mate then literally saves him when she erupts and Un-Makes Briallyn, in whose thrall he is trapped. That was always amazing enough, a beautiful HEA in its own right.........

BUT TO THIS CASS OF ACOSF CH. 42 I SAY: YOU HAVE NO IDEA OF THE RICHES OF DREAMS FULFILLED YOUR HAPPILY EVERY AFTER WITH NESTA HAS IN STORE 😭 JUST YOU WAIT MY DUDE

(Can you even imagine how Cassian must have felt, what his reaction was when Nesta came home after her adventures with Bryce in the tunnels under Prythian, and he learned what Nesta did to that wyrm with Ataraxia? He must have melted into a mated puddle of goo to the tune of "That's my fucking mate, y'all!" 🥹)

[selunesdreams]

Forms of Imprisonment: Godless

“There’s no mandatory waiting period between suffering and enjoying yourself.”

Smut excerpt from Ch. 17 of Forms of Imprisonment. Full chapter/story on AO3.

Pairing: Astarion x OFC (post-tadpole)

Word count: ~2k

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, oral, religious shame?, sacrilege kink (if you squint), rough-ish, dirty talk, cumplay, Astarion keeps his clothes (mostly) on during sex, slight fluff?/preexisting relationship stuff, brief mentions of violence, part of a series (but readable without context)

Astarion reaches for her, tilting her chin to meet his gaze. “Are you alright?”

She averts her eyes. “I’m fine.”

“The question was a courtesy. You’re obviously not.” He says. “You’ve been betrayed by someone you once cared for…” he pauses. “And I think you would have enjoyed watching me rip him to shreds. Does that scare you? Are you ashamed of yourself?”

“I said I wanted to go-”

Astarion draws her face closer and she can see his jaw tense, his stare unwavering. “Because you shouldn’t be.”

She glances around them through her peripheral, his touch still lingering under her chin. People pass them on the road, but no one seems to notice. Down the street, the lights of Sharess’ Caress illuminate the area in a faint yellow glow.

“If I’ve learned anything, it’s that there are no rewards for good behavior, my dear.” He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and cups her cheek with his hand. “Don’t be ashamed of the darkest parts of you. You owe no penance here. Not with me.”

She pulls back, appraising him. “How do you do it? You’re not tormented by the pains of virtue.”

He holds her face in his hands. “Even if that were true, I would never want that for you. Your damned virtue, annoying as it may be, is what makes someone like me have a sliver of hope they could ever trust another soul.”

“I don’t want to be good. I didn’t ask for any of this - to be Selûne’s granddaughter, to lose my family, a religion I didn’t choose. My identity will never be my own.” Tears brim along her waterline and Astarion frowns, moving to stroke her cheek. She swallows hard and forces herself to regain composure. “I’m tired.” She croaks.

He casts her a rare, sympathetic look and entwines his fingers in hers. “I know, my dear. I know.”

Wordlessly, they weave through the streets of Rivington back to the Elfsong. Celeste is relieved their friends haven’t caught up - she doesn’t want to explain herself to anyone right now. They fall into step near Wyrm’s Rock before Astarion speaks again.

“You’re not all innocence and purity, you know.” Astarion says. Her hand drops from his and she wraps her arms around herself. “You told me of your little Sharran assassinations and I saw all the carrion you left at the cloister. If it’s a dangerous reputation you’re after, you’re doing alright.” Astarion notices her shiver and shrugs off his cloak, wrapping it around her as they walk. “I shouldn’t have underestimated you.”

Celeste draws the cloak around herself tightly. “What you saw at the House of Grief was sheer luck. I didn’t do that on my own.” She absentmindedly toys with her necklace.

Astarion’s attention follows her movement and lingers at the base of her throat, the pulse of her neck beating visibly. His throat burns with want and he clears it to displace his thirst. “Lucky we found that family heirloom, then.”

Celeste snorts bitterly and lets the pendant fall from her fingers. “You have no idea.”

Astarion cocks his head. “Well, regardless of where the credit is due, I was quite taken with your work.”

“Now is hardly the time, Astarion.”

“Because you’re not in the mood, or because you’d feel bad about it? There’s no mandatory waiting period between suffering and enjoying yourself.” His tone is empathetic, but there’s a seductive edge to it.

Celeste makes a small hum of appreciation. “Not the worst advice you’ve given.”

Astarion leans down to whisper in her ear. “Didn’t you just say you don’t want to be good anymore?”

She considers his words as they step inside the Elfsong. The tavern is lively tonight, a bard’s lute ringing across the room as patrons dance and drink and stumble into corners, pressed against temporary lovers. Astarion appreciates the debauchery for a moment before offering his hand. “Come, darling.” She places her fingers into his palm and he leads her up the stairs. The music from the tavern pounds rhythmically into the wooden floors. It reverberates through her, a satisfying thud echoing each beat of her heart.

Their rooms are empty, though Astarion isn’t sure how much distance is between them and their friends. “Not here.” He guides her to the private room down the hall. A single candle burns on the bedside table, the balcony is wide open, curtains catching in the breeze. “Surely it’s our turn in the rotation.” He shuts the door behind him and pins her to the wall, looking down at her as if he were hunting prey.

“I’ll be the devil, if that suits you, darling...” He murmurs into her neck. “Let me show you what it is to be godless.”

His lips catch hers hungrily. She presses her hips against him in response and a whine betrays his controlled demeanor. He tugs at the straps of her clothes, bringing the entirety of her leather one-piece to the floor. Astarion leads her across the room and shoves her on the bed, removing her undergarments in a fluid, impatient motion.

Bracing himself, he stares at her naked form appreciatively before sliding two fingers into her wet cunt, curling them upwards and bending down to let his tongue explore her in a languid stroke, never taking his eyes from her. She arches her back in surprise, grinding herself against him as he begins to lap at her and fuck her with his fingers.

“Greedy.” He teases, before his mouth returns to her.

She rests her lips against her forearm, burying a cry of pleasure in her throat. Astarion tracks every movement with his red irises, letting a moan reverberate against her to coax a stronger reaction. His imposing, fully clothed figure arches towards her as he drops to his knees and throws one of her legs over his shoulder. Her breath catches and she looks down at him, the faint portrait of his satisfaction gently illuminated.

Celeste’s will crumbles in minutes and the borders of her vision begin to darken and pulsate as she climaxes. Astarion doesn’t stop until she whimpers, pushing against him as if trying to escape. He sucks on his fingers after removing them, still gazing at her from his knees before standing.

“We’re not finished. Not yet.” His fangs glimmer in the light as he smiles, his hands moving to his trousers. His gaze is locked with hers as he undoes the clasp. They fall to his thighs, letting her see all of his intent.

Her breath hitches in anticipation and he drags her closer by her hips, lining himself up with her. Celeste clings to the fabric of his shirt, burying her face in his neck as he drives himself to the hilt of her, teasing at first, then progressively becoming more rough. Astarion lets one hand wander to palm her breast, kissing her reverently.

“I think I might have been made to ruin you, Celeste.” He purrs as he thrusts in and out of her, fucking her roughly with eyes full of sinister devotion. Her stomach throbs with anticipation and she whines for him to keep going. An impatient knock at the door morphs Astarion’s groan of pleasure into one of frustration.

“There’s over a dozen other beds in the next room that will suit you just fine!” He snarls at the door before clamping a hand against Celeste’s mouth as he ruts into her, using his free hand to draw circles around her clit.

“Pardon the interruption.” He pants into her open mouth with a smirk, feeling the slick of her seep from his cock onto his fingers as he thrusts. “Gods, look at you. You don’t have to worry one bit about a good reputation with me, love.”

She tightens around him in response to his taunting, her muffled cries reverberating against his palm. Astarion’s speech becomes less and less coherent, replacing his hand on her mouth with a frenzied kiss, a deep growl escaping his throat.

Celeste whimpers, clawing at his shirt as he sends her over the edge. Astarion grits his teeth, sucking in air before releasing a hum of pleasure against her lips as he spills himself in her. He continues working in slow strokes long past their orgasms until neither of them can bear it. She goes still on the sheets and he finally halts, shuddering against her.

“Hells.” He braces himself against the mattress, panting against her shoulder as he pulls himself out of her. His fingers drift to where his spill mixes with her own arousal, teasing the mess he’s made until she whimpers a surrender. “I don’t think anyone else will want the bed tonight.” He devours a look of feigned disapproval from her face with a long, rough kiss before pushing off of her and readjusting himself inside of his trousers.

Astarion walks towards the balcony overlooking the street. He leans over the railing on his forearms, hands clasped together loosely. One ankle crosses over the other behind him, a delicate balance, his form like a painting. His features are neutral, contemplative. To anyone else, he might seem at ease, but Celeste can almost see him turning over something in his mind. She gives him a moment before tentatively reaching for his cloak near her pile of discarded clothes, drawing it around her naked body and padding across the room to join him.

Sensing her approach, the corners of his mouth twitch upwards and he whirls and brings her close, a thumb brushing against her cheek. He presses his forehead against hers and releases a slow exhale before he meets her gaze under lowered eyelids.

“Now who’s overthinking?” She asks. In response, his lips crush against her in a lingering kiss, smiling against her mouth when he pulls away, assessing with amusement.

Astarion hums a bit and his lip twitches. “Well, aren’t you cheeky?” He opens his arms invitingly, and she lays her head on his chest, looking off in the distance.

“You’re very important to me, Astarion.”

“I do like it when you say things like that.” He wraps his arms possessively around her waist as he speaks.

“Careful, or you might give me the impression you’re in love.”

“Would that be so terrible?” He releases her, but doesn’t move away.

“I didn’t mean it that way. I didn’t think-”

“What did you think?” His tone is suddenly cold, almost challenging. “What went through that pretty head of yours when you said that?”

“Astarion, not tonight.” She pleads.

“When is a more convenient time for you, Celeste? Would it really come as a shock if I were in love with you? Because I am…” He searches her eyes, hesitant. “…in love. With you.”

Celeste takes a step back, the emotions swirling within her.

“What, did you think I was just using you for sex?” He asks bitterly.

“So much has happened, I just thought...” She trails off, filled with a mix of regret and confusion.

“Thought I was just using you,” he finishes, his voice going quiet again.

“What of the night on the boat? When you said we were two people enjoying one another’s company? What was I supposed to take away from that?”

“And we did, enjoy it. That’s... the truth, but...” he sighs, and takes her hand, letting his fingers trail against her thumb. “Maybe that was just me trying to convince myself that’s all it was. But…things have changed. This is more than that now…for me.”

“Astarion… I just need a moment to process…”

“Take all the time you need,” Astarion replies, dropping her hand. “Keep the room for the night. I’ll see myself out.”

“Astarion - wait, please,” Celeste pleads, as he stumbles out of the room. The door slams shut, leaving her stunned and alone. The events of the evening overwhelming her thoughts, Celeste curls into a ball on top of the sheets with his cloak draped over her, a single sob escaping her before she forbids herself to cry another second about any of it. The candle on the nightstand fizzles out, leaving her with nothing but darkness.

Leaning with his back against the other side of the door, Astarion runs a hand through his hair. “Damnit,” he mutters under his breath.

Hope you enjoyed! Please like/reblog/kudos/follow/whatever if you did? Full chapter/story on AO3!

[sankttealeaf]

LET SLEEPING DOGS LIE

CH.21: HAUNTED BY THE GHOST OF YOU

full fic masterlist!

Gortash always knew, deep down, he would do this alone.

Gortash swears he’s the only competent person in this fucking city. 

Time and time again he has to break down his ideas into simple terms for those who he clearly doesn’t give a shit about to understand. Then they’ll nod and agree that it’s a good idea and they’ll run out of time because people cannot match his level of genius. It’s infuriating. 

Another meeting over and Gortash is glad to have space at Wyrm’s Rock Fortress to retreat to. The thought of making the trek back to the Upper City tires him. He gives a nod to the two Banites on guard outside his office and lets the door close behind him. Once he’s alone, he sighs heavily.

Well, alone in the physical sense. 

CONTINUE ON AO3

[lowkeyed1]

ch 3 is up and we're finally earning that explicit rating! tags & etc below the jump :)

Chapters: 3/? Fandom: Willow (TV 2022) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Thraxus Boorman/Graydon Hastur, Elora Danan/Graydon Hastur Characters: Graydon Hastur, Thraxus Boorman, Elora Danan (Willow), Willow Ufgood, Airk Tanthalos, Kit Tanthalos, Jade Claymore Additional Tags: Memory Loss, Romantic Rivalry, Idiocy Abounds, First Time Summary: Graydon has been rescued from the Wyrm realm, but his memories of the quest are gone. Left to his own devices, he finds himself drawn to Boorman, and Elora's not pleased about that. Will Boorman step gracefully aside? Will Elora? C'mon, do you know these guys at all? It's gonna be a bloodbath :D OR the game is on and both players are idiots

[amaranthsynthesis]

wip whenever

tagged by @chronurgy who dropped some excellent wyll pov that I'm happily chewing on, tagging.... uh. anyone who hasn't been tagged or wants to play go

Making more progress on a couple of things, not as much as I would like BUT the pharmacy has finished having their mysterious shortage of adhd medication so I have been taking my daily meth for 2 days, hammering out thoughts and ideas for A Fine Night ch 2:

The fire radiates heat and light, casting yellow-gold light that dances in the heavy darkness of his chambers. The night air is mild and doesn’t need it, in truth, but he likes the warmth on his skin and the way it heats the brocaded silk of his robe. It’s embroidered intricately, made heavy with gold impressions of wyrms over sleek red cloth, and it’s the nicest thing he’s wearing—he is bare chested beneath with simple linen pants tied at the hip, gauntlet-less and unshod. He thinks the fabric feels best this way: without distraction. 

It’s not often he allows himself such a dressed-down evening. There is always so much work to do, correspondence to sort through, plans and blueprints to fine tune. It’s not even particularly unusual for him to have meetings as late as this, in the midnight hour, requiring still the performance, the noble bearing, the fine clothing—but his meeting tonight wasn’t business. He’d cleared his schedule, set aside the time to give the appointment the attention it warranted, to pay appropriate respect to his only real equal in the entire bloody city. It’s not a luxury he can frequently afford to indulge. Gortash had felt magnanimous, when he extended the invitation, patrician; condescending. 

And so the note bearing his visitor’s delay had been… unwelcome. 

A Bhaalist urchin had brought it to his door and in truth if one of his hired guards hadn’t thought the creature ‘cute as a button’, despite the layer of dirt and the odorous miasma Gortash knows they all bear, he might not have received the message at all. The guard had likely given the child a coin for its effort. Enver would just as soon have given it a kick up the back end. The paper was grubby and crumpled when he received it, but the single line was written in a slanting, severe hand he knew well. It read, in cypher as ever; 

Will be detained. Need not reschedule. Expect me no later than dawn. -B

‘No later than dawn’ was, as a time frame, utterly useless.

[jayenator565]

Trick or Treat if it isn't too late

Never too late how about my tanthamore week fic (yes i haven't forgotten it all my muse has just been going towards vampires lately x3)

Accidentally in Love ch 2 snippet

~~~~~~~~~

Married.

Of all the things for a completely wasted Kit and Jade to do, getting their nuptials was not on the Princess’ bingo card. Could she even get married, like legally? Technically she was still engaged or something? Right? I mean it’s not like Graydon would care but still.

And what about her mom? Sorsha missed her only daughter’s wedding. Something she had been telling Kit about for years. Something she had been planning when it was arranged, for months. There was going to be feasts and cakes and tournaments jointly hosted by Galldoorn and Tir Asleen. It seemed like Jade had also come to the same conclusion as Kit’s thoughts.

Jade started pacing in a frenzy, Kit was helplessly made to follow.

“Your mother’s gonna kill me.”

“Wait, Jade.” Kit tried fruitlessly to pull back but Jade had all the momentum on her side, not to mention all the muscles. Kit wasn’t a strong bean or anything but there was no arguing that Jade’s muscles were bigger.

“The queen is gonna call for my head.”

“Jade-”

“I’ll be locked up like Boorman or strung up in the gallows.”

“Jade! My mom is not going to hurt a hair on your gorgeous head.”

“You’re right,” Jade responded, finally stopping in front of Kit’s weide and relieved eyes.  “she’ll have someone else do it.” 

“No she won’t”, Scorpia watched the whole thing, her expression a mix between exasperated and amused. 

“Not if she knows what’s good for her. Tir Asleen doesn’t want to go to war with our people.”

“Ok scratch that, rewind about a few seconds. No one is dying or getting locked up or going off to war.”

Scorpia lifted a brow in question, “What about the Wyrm and the dreaded army of the dead locked in the other dimension until it awakens from its slumber?”

“Fair point ok...no one’s going to war right now. I’m sure everything’s fine, since when do some rings and glowy hand magic mean marriage anyway?”