#chapter 1 stranger in a strange land

[jasmineoolongtea]

coffee jelly and parfait ― chapter 1: caramel pudding

pairing: bodyguard!toji x baker!reader (f), toji is 38, reader is 22

summary: after working towards and succeding in accomplishing your lifelong dream working for one of the most famous bakeries in tokyo, you decide to go out for a night of celebratory drinking. however, the next morning, you wake up and find out that you're now married to a total stranger and an older one at that! but, turns out, this accidental marriage of yours might be more useful than you think.

contents: a sesame salt and pudding!au, age gap relationship (16 years - everyone is completely legal here!!!), marriage of convenience/accidental marriage, fluff, angst, slice of life, nicknames (toji is referred to as ossan by reader which is an informal way of referring to a middle-aged man in Japanese and this is taken directly from the manga inspo behind this)

warnings: drinking/alcohol, smoking (from toji)

word count: 3.9k words (much beefer than i was expecting ngl)

extras:

⤷ mood board/pinterest board

a/n: ahhh i'm so excited to finally be able to work on this series since it's been workshopping in the back of my mind for a while shdhahwj hope you guys enjoy this and hope you have an amazing day/night !!! sorry that this chapter is so exposition-heavy rip djasd, i promise later chapters will get better. as always, any likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated <333

It's normal for weird things to happen after a night of heavy drinking, right?

You've heard all sorts of stories from your friends and family about the strange antics drunk people get up to once they get a certain amount of liquor running through their veins. It can range from small silly things like trying out a new skill in public due to a sudden burst of newfound confidence to more extreme ones like running away from an angry mob of people that you've accidentally incited somehow. Despite the difference in their severity, the common thread here remains: all are mostly harmless things and nothing that is possibly life-changing.

Much to your dismay, however, you seem to be the outlier in all those cases. Actually, it appears to be that you've managed to outdo almost everyone this time as this one definitely has to take the cake right here or whatever award they give out for things like this.

This morning, as you wake up and open your bedroom door, you suddenly find yourself face to face with a complete stranger, who very much appears to be an older guy, standing right outside in your apartment.

And to top off this already weird trajectory of events, as if things could not possibly get even stranger, it also turns out that you've apparently married said stranger last night.

...What!?!

-

To say that your memory of last night is hazy would be a massive understatement in all senses of the word. But what you do remember clearly is the reason why you went drinking in the first place, which was to congratulate yourself for finally achieving your lifelong dream up to this point.

After years of blood, sweat and tears spent at the Tsuji Culinary School where you fought with tooth, fist and nails against hundreds of other culinary hopefuls to win the highly coveted and only place available for the exchange programme to Le Cordon Bleu institute in France, your suffering was not all for nought as on your glorious return back to Japan, you've managed to land your dream job of working at one of Tokyo's most famous bakeries, Pierre Hermé.

If that was not a perfect reason to celebrate and drink the night away completely carefree then you don't know what was.

However, there was one tiny little snag in your plans for a joyous night out. The moment that you returned home to give your roommate the good news, still trying to come down from the high of hearing the good news, it seemed that she apparently also had a similar genius idea of her own and decided to inform you that she was leaving you to search for somewhere else to live closer to her job.

For most people, that wouldn't be a problem as they could just be able to leisurely search for a new roommate at their own pace. But for you, this was not the case as you were facing a different set of circumstances. For you, your move to Tokyo was entirely conditional on the fact that would stay with someone and this was explicitly set and outlined by your dad. Now roommate-less, you suddenly had a ticking expiry date placed on all your ambitions that you had barely scratched the surface of by this point.

This was probably the worst case of whiplash you've ever had, going from an extreme high to an extreme low all in the span of less than 10 minutes. Unfortunately, it seemed that the odds were very much not in your favour. But how could you let that waver your resolve? If you had learned anything from your years of existing is that you weren't going to give up and relent that easily.

So, in actuality, it was somewhat a lie that you were only out drinking for one reason. In reality, it was for two reasons; one, to congratulate yourself on achieving your dreams and two, to try and forget your newfound problem through the power of alcohol. And this was how you found yourself complaining to a bunch of strangers at a local izakaya, surrounded by several empty pints of beer.

A loud drunken sob echoes through the small confines of the bar which is accompanied by the thud of an empty glass cup slamming against the wooden countertop of the bar.

"It isn't fair at all! Do you know how hard I've worked to get here? I've basically given up everything for this and now it's going to all disappear?" You bemoan out loud to whoever's around you, signalling to the barkeep to fill up another pint for you as you're clearly intent on accomplishing your plan of drinking away your problems.

There's a lady and her boyfriend, whose face you can't really remember or recall in any particular detail, sitting next to you on your right trying to comfort you with sympathetic coos and awkward back pats. While they're trying their best to comfort you, or as best as drunk people can, their efforts are seemingly in vain as you can only sigh in defeat at your current predicament.

Taking another swig of the freshly poured pint, you continue on your rant. "And you know, my dad is only letting me stay in Tokyo if I either have a roommate or if I'm married even if I'm happy here as is!"

The lady nods in an empathetic manner as if to say she's gone through the same thing as well, commenting, "My dad's the same way as well, he's kinda old-fashioned when it comes to stuff like this and it's awful."

"If only alcohol could cure problems like this," You muse. "My roommate and I used to come here all the time and everyone we met here is always so nice."

At your praise of the other bar patrons, there's a murmur of agreement and cheers from all around. The frothy foam of your drink has bubbled down by now but as you stare into the half-drunk glass, you're suddenly hit with an outrageous idea. "Hey, what if I get married to one of you guys tonight, right here right now?"

Boisterous laughter immediately erupts at your words. One dishevelled salary man from the other side of the bar jokingly remarks, "If you do that, you won't even be wanted back home!"

However, once the laughter dies down there's a genuine pause from everyone, including yourself, as if you all were genuinely considering carrying out this ridiculous and definitely impractical idea. Following the brief silence, the other patrons turn to their neighbours and begin to talk and discuss amongst themselves, their heads swivelling left and right in what seems to be an attempt to size up and judge the men at the bar as potential candidates.

"I'm already married to a wife I love dearly so I'm going to have to turn down that offer." Announces a middle-aged man from opposite you, with other similar comments and statements soon chiming in to eliminate themselves from the running based on a variety of different reasons.

Before the lady's boyfriend can even open his mouth to volunteer himself, she sends a withering look and an accusatory finger his way as she warns him, "Don't even think about it." At her stern warning, he quickly sinks back down into his seat.

An elderly man sighs wistfully to himself. "Ha, maybe if I was 20 years younger..." He then turns to his side, nudging the guy next to him with his elbow to get his attention before asking him. "Hey, what about you?"

You can't really see the other man's face since he's pretty much on the other side of the long table and your vision might have been slightly hazy on account of all the alcohol flowing through your system at this point, though you hear his gruff voice ring out as he shrugs his built shoulders and responds, "Me? 'M single I guess."

From all the other voices you've heard tonight, you don't recognise his, guessing that he might have been relatively silent throughout most of the conversation. Although you can't see much of him, you notice even sitting down, he's about two heads taller than those around him and his broad shoulders and well-built physique are accentuated by the tight-fitting black shirt he's wearing. God, it looks like he's basically vacuumed and sealed into that thing as the fabric shifts with every flex of his muscles.

Maybe it's the dim lighting of the izakaya but you're sure you catch a brilliant flash of green from across the table looking you up and down with vague curiosity and interest. You think to yourself, he doesn't look half bad.

Suddenly filled with a renewed sense of energy, or rather you're getting to the point on your drunkness scale where you feel comfortable enough to throw logic out of the window, you leap up from your seat and point at the man as you shout at the top of your lungs,

"Alright, you in the black shirt! Let's get married!"

After hearing your declaration, the lady starts to furiously flip the magazine in front of her until it lands on a certain page before picking it up and showing it to the others. "Hey, look! This magazine I bought has a marriage registration form at the back."

"What an amazing coincidence." Someone mutters from beside you with a few other voices soon relaying their own hums of agreement.

"We can all be witnesses! Come on and sign it!"

Chants of "Sign it." start to fill up the bar as the other patrons begin to cheer you two on like a crowd at a live stadium sports match from the sidelines of their seats. The moment your pen clatters against the floor, the crowd bursts out into celebratory shouts and cheers, with that being the extent of your memories of last night with whatever after it fading into black.

-

Now back in the present, you feel your face start to burn with a renewed sense of embarrassment as memories and small recollections of last night start to flood your mind. Any chance of even possibly denying the events of last night goes out the window as turns out, your drunk self decided that it was the perfect opportunity to apparently take a commemorative photo of the event with the marriage license at the dead of centre of it, your names unmistakably written on there in bold.

As you examine the form, still slightly gobsmacked, you spot his name next to yours. Fushiguro Toji, huh? You think quietly to yourself, his name sounds kind of nice. But before you can find yourself getting lost in thought, a husky voice snaps you back into reality.

"Now, do'ya remember?" The man, or Toji as that's what appears to be his name, quirks an inquisitive eyebrow at you.

"Yeah, but that doesn't explain how you ended up in my apartment." Eyeing him up and down, you pause for a second as you take in your equally dishevelled appearances, something suddenly clicking in your head as your overactive mind begins to draw its own conclusions about what happened after the events of the izakaya. "Oh no. Di-did we..?" You gesture frantically at the two of you, hoping that he understands what you're implying with your question.

Toji shakes his head, a slightly irritated or perhaps even amused sigh leaving his lips, you're not sure. "No. Yer insisted that you should take me home since I mentioned that I didn't really have a place to stay for the night."

A sigh of relief escapes you.

You take this time to now fully examine him since you didn't get much of a chance last night, or rather you had forgotten all about it. There's an unquestionably intimidating aura about him with his shaggy black hair, incredibly muscular physique and piercing emerald green eyes that look like they could kill a man where he stood with a single stare. His all-black clothing and what appears to be a vertical scar situated on the right corner of his lips do him no favours to make him look less like a gangster straight out of an action movie.

Although there aren't the typical tell-tale signs of ageing on him like obvious wrinkles or a head of grey hairs, there's a faint imprint of more permanent creases starting to form in the middle of his brows and if you look closely enough, you might even notice some small sprinkles of white starting to pop up amidst the rest of his raven locks. This all points to the fact that he's definitely older than you but you're unsure by how much from your initial assessment of him, probably at least ten years older than give or take.

Though, besides this outright menacing factor to him, you can't help but admit that he's also strikingly handsome in a rugged way. You realise that you might have been caught staring at him for too long when he clears his throat and gives you a pointed glance with those sharp green eyes. Just having his gaze on you is enough to send a tingling sensation down your spine.

Deciding to brush it off, he huffs to himself as he leans his weight against the white walls of your apartment. "It's probably too late to cancel it since we already signed and submitted it last night so the only option we have now is to divorce."

He fishes around in the pockets of his pants and produces an already half-empty and slightly crumpled cigarette box. Before taking one out, he turns towards you and silently asks for your permission with a tilt of his head. You nod at him, expecting him to crank open one of your windows to smoke but instead, he walks towards your kitchen and turns on your kitchen hood. Curiously, you follow behind him and see him use a dingy lighter to light up the cigarette, the pale glow of the flame illuminating the harsh lines of his features, as he takes a deep puff of it before blowing the smoke up the hood.

So he's a kitchen smoker, huh? Obviously, you want to know how he's developed this peculiar habit but you decide to bite your tongue for now as there are more pressing issues on hand such as the undeniable elephant in the room.

There's a brief moment of silence before Toji starts speaking again. "Y'know, I kinda feel bad for last night 'cause you're going to be a divorcee so young."

"Hey! I'm not that young you know, Ossan!" You protest in return, crossing your arms over your chest in a slightly childish display of annoyance. That earns you what sounds like a breathy laugh from him as one corner of his lips tilts upwards in a somewhat crooked manner.

"Oh yeah? Then how old are ya?" There's a teasing lilt to his voice, almost as if he's slightly amused by your antics.

You huff. "22. What about you?"

"You really can't remember much from last night huh? I'm 38." If he's 38 then that means there's a 16-year age difference between you two. Not the worst-case scenario that could happen when it comes to marrying a complete stranger by accident, you think to yourself.

It seems that your apparent lack of reaction, only giving out a half-hearted hmm, to finding out his age is surprising to him. If he was going to be honest, he wasn't ruling out that you might have started bolting out of your apartment at the mention of it and in that case, he wouldn't blame you.

You state, "Besides, you're not the only one to blame here. It's on me as well since we both signed it. So don't feel bad. We'll get it taken care of as soon as possible." You send a reassuring smile his way, waving off his concerns with an easy-going wave of your wrist. For some reason, he feels like he might even believe your assurance for a second.

Much to your public embarrassment your stomach starts to grumble loudly with what some might say is impeccable comedic timing. "Or well, as soon as I get some food." You comment bashfully, your previously carefree attitude fading away relatively quickly as a new priority has emerged.

As you make the move towards your fridge, you look over at him from your shoulder as you ask, "Oh right. Do you want something as well? I don't really cook meals that often so all I have in my kitchen is basically just baking ingredients."

Toji does a quick look around the kitchen, examining the clear state of mess and disarray that it's in and scoffs offhandedly to himself. "Didn't realise you could call this mess a kitchen."

"In my defence, my roommate used to do all the cooking and cleaning whilst I mainly covered the bills." You point back at him, a wooden spoon in hand as you wave at him warningly.

"What happened to them then?"

"Oh, you know, suddenly deciding to move closer to work even though your roommate has already paid the lease for the year for two people and stuff like that." There's an edge of annoyance to your tone, clearly, you're still annoyed at your roommate for putting you in this predicament, but Toji decides not to comment on it.

After watching you struggle to turn on your gas stove for what seems to be like the tenth time in the span of 2 minutes, a loud sigh of exasperation escapes him as he places his calloused hand on top of yours. stopping you in your tracks. "Come on, just let me do it." He states. As he moves closer to the kitchen counter, his body is positioned so close to your left side that you can feel the heat radiating off of him.

He starts to busy himself with various ingredients as it seems that he's now begrudgingly taken over cooking duties from you, no protests from your side by the way. Before you go to take your seat at the kitchen table, you hear him mumble under his breath. "Can't believe you have the time to go out and get drunk and not even to clean your place."

"Hey." You turn around to face him once again, your voice stern. "You don't know me, alright? I wanna stay in Tokyo because I just got my dream job and I'm not planning on leaving any time soon."

"...Yer job? What d'you do?"

"I'm a baker. Have you ever heard of the bakery, Pierre Hermé?"

He pauses, bringing a finger up to his chin as if deep in thought. "Think 've walked past it a few times. Why?"

There's a renewed sense of excitement to you, passion very much evident in both your words and expression as you launch into an animated spiel at his question. "It's one of the top bakeries in Tokyo and I've spent my whole life working towards being able to get a job there." You look out at the window, quietly contemplating and contrasting the crowded and bustling streets and skyline of Tokyo with the sleepy and relatively isolated atmosphere of your hometown.

"Back in my home town, there isn't really much opportunity to work somewhere like this, especially since it's a foreign bakery specialising in French pastries so this is basically my only chance to fulfil my dreams." You can't help but let a wistful sigh leave your lips, thinking about how hard you've fought to get to this point now. Unbeknownst to you, Toji suddenly sits up straighter, his back pressed against the cool ceramic countertops as he stares at you, seemingly studying you in a new light after your words. Before you can realise it though, he quickly adverts his gaze elsewhere, taking another drag of his cigarette.

"What about you?" You ask him, a sense of interest clearly present in your voice. For someone like him, you don't even know where to really begin when it comes to guessing what a guy like him could do for a living as it could range from semi-realistic to wildly fantastical like straight out of a TV show.

"...I'm a bodyguard for hire." Compared to you though, his tone is devoid of the same energy and passion present in yours with him even pausing slightly before answering, as if he was hesitant to reveal this aspect about himself.

"Wow, that's cool." There's a small sense of awe at his response. Being a bodyguard would definitely explain that muscular physique of his, you remark quietly to yourself.

A tsk sound escapes him at your comment, shrugging it off with his shoulders as he turns to the side. "All I care is that it pays well. Nothin' more."

You deflate a little at his words. To you, he sounds more begrudging than anything and you think that there's probably a story behind that as well, like many other things about him like that lip scar of his, but you choose to avoid prodding him even further as well in his defence, you've technically just met each other last night. All of a sudden, you're hit with an idea, a crazy idea just like last night, but this time now sober, and it might just be crazy enough to work or you two might just be desperate enough to make it work. You clear your throat before you call out to him.

"Hey, Ossan." Toji looks back at you, and clearly, you've managed to pique his curiosity by the amused expression present on his face. If you were a lesser person, you might have shrunk under the intensity of his gaze so intently trained on you but you don't, there's too much of your future dream riding on this now for you to back out before anything could have even begun. You look into his eyes, maintaining eye contact before you continue. "I have an idea, actually, it's more of a request. The next time I go back home to visit my parents, can you come with me as my husband? If I'm married to someone who lives in Tokyo, my dad can't tell me to move home anymore and he'll definitely believe that it's real once he sees your name on the official family register."

Before he can even say no or offer any protest of his own, you add, "Plus, this deal will be beneficial to you as well since you'll get a place to live until you get your own apartment. So, let's hold off on the divorce until then."

There's a hopeful look in your eyes with a look of determination painted on your features. Evidently, even without his input, it appears to be that you're dead set on this plan if it means you get the slightest chance of staying here. He contemplates a future where he says no, imagining another week of being forced to couch surf on his boss's stale office couch and living in a constant state of uncertainty for who knows how long. Sure, it's not like he's so sure about what going to happen now but at least if he agrees to this, he's not alone in dealing with whatever uncertainty is thrown his way.

He shakes his head, stubbing out the burnt end of his cigarette in the sink and takes your hand in his.

"Alright fine, yer got a deal."

taglist: @catobsessedlady , @aluvrina , @thulhu , @sn1perz , @meowmeew , @hprnx , @r0ckst4rjk , @dianakisses , @lashaemorow , @cinnabooonn

[em-writes-stuff-sometimes]

gevivys (beauty) │ Chapter 5: Resolve

terms of endearment ‘verse: see my Masterlist for the correct series order!

Chapter 1 │Chapter 2 │Chapter 3 │Chapter 4 │Chapter 5 │Chapter 6 │Chapter 7 │Chapter 8 │Chapter 9 │Chapter 10 (COMPLETE!)

Synopsis: Daemon returns to King's Landing after ten years in exile, intent on rekindling his affair with Rhaenyra. He wasn't expecting you - the revelation changes everything.

Hello, all! I know, it’s so soon! But this one is a cobbled-together piece of stuff you’ve already seen, just padded out a bit more. I figured I might as well push it on out now, so here ya go! Featuring Jason Lannister for the very first time, to finally bring all this shit together a bit more cohesively. As always, thank you to my boobear @ewanmitchellcrumbs​ for reading though this and reassuring me it isn’t total shite!

TRIGGERS: incest, purity culture, age gap, general Daemon grottiness, allusions to non-consensual sexual situations.

According to most, Daemon Targaryen is a man in possession of little capacity for feeling beyond what is required to partake in lechery and barbarism. He knows himself; his disparagers are not entirely wrong. Except for one important, essential truth—he would die for his family. He loves his family.

Love, as he understands it, is what he has always felt when looking upon his brother, upon Rhaenyra. No matter the strife that has torn him from his kin time and time again, he can freely acknowledge that such sentiments will remain everlasting.

A kicked hound is one most loyal, he thinks with no small degree of bitterness. Or perhaps the meanest hound is more loyal. Either way, I am the hound—and my master, the king.

Love is what has wrenched harsh and twisting in his heart whenever he laid eyes on you, a toddling girl-child eternally eager for the cossetting attentions of your uncle, your kepa—and he had always been kepa, never Viserys, no, your father had never received an honour beyond being called ‘papa’ like any common pauper—now a stranger in so many ways.

The garden and the morning repast had served to ignite the wellspring of all his wildest desires, delivering to him seemingly all he had ever wanted in a prospective bride—young and beautiful, obedient and good-tempered, Valyrian of colouring and of status. But you had seemed smaller than your younger self, trapped in a prison of your own making, hidden beneath layers and layers of chaste courtesy and painstaking banality. And then, accompanying you to the Dragonpit had given him a curious glimpse into the power you kept hidden, the ancient strength of your lineage slipping through the cracks in your genteel veneer.

Regal. Arcane. These are the words that had come to mind watching you interact with your mount, none other than the famed Cannibal himself. Something of the majesty of the Conqueror lay within you, waiting for the necessary spark to kindle the flame. Your exchange with Athfiezar—your silent fearlessness, your devotion to your savage beast, your unassuming poise—reminds him that, for all your equally meek and mild-mannered nature, you are still Targaryen. You are still his sweetling.

It is this that elicits a consuming curiosity to know more.

You are an interesting puzzle, a strange contradiction, one whose buttermilk skin and pert teats and spit-shine lips should herald as a welcome to sample the delights hidden by the fabric of your darling little gowns. Yet, you act not as a silly young thing learning of her sway over men—teasing with fluttering lashes and bit lip and lilting tone as Rhaenyra had—but as a docile girl disinclined to press the limits of propriety as all maidens do. You ride the most savage dragon in the known world, and yet there is no such quality in you that echoes your mount’s disposition; instead, a loveliness that is near to cloying, pure and unadulterated and surely too good to be true. You are a fucking princess, and yet you are perfectly content to fade into the periphery, drawing little notice to yourself and seeking none from those around you, not even your own blood. A scholar, quick-witted and erudite, but somehow still so sweetly unknowing of the depravities that rule the minds of men who lay eyes on you.

You fascinate him. And his newfound realisation does not lessen his temptation to fuck you—to ply you with praise and charm and no small hint of avuncular affection (the reminder of your shared blood thrills him to the bone as always) so that, over time, you might be swayed to give your maidenhead to him—but, rather, that it results in a metamorphosis, a muddling, his longing mingling the base needs of the flesh with a rekindling of his fondness for you.

Which is why he cannot stand the presence of Jason Lannister.

“Why are you entertaining this farce?” Daemon asks, fists clenched at his sides. “A pompous fuck like him has no business anywhere near her.”

“Whatever is the problem, brother?” Viserys says distractedly, hunching over his miniature of Old Valyria and studying the replica of the Targaryen manse on the outskirts with intent. “Jason Lannister is Lord Paramount of the Westerlands. By any standard, I would think he is the best contender for her hand.”

That fucking model of his. Daemon resists the urge to smash the king’s stone city into rubble, though doing so might grant him the attentiveness he is sorely lacking from the man. “Are you not hearing me? He’s an arrogant cunt. He’d bore her in a sennight, let alone whatever hellish span of time an entire marriage would last.”

Viserys hums noncommittally. “She will make do”—he waves Daemon off—“as all noblewomen must when their fathers command them to marry. That is her lot in life. Besides, Lord Jason is one of the wealthiest men in the realm, and I am told he is rather pleasing to a lady’s eye. She could do worse than he.”

His brother’s remark is a fair one—of the trio, Jason is the preferable choice. And what a fucking miserable choice it would be.

He rolls his eyes. This is going nowhere. “And Tyrell? Your idiot son? Are they the ‘worse’ you speak of?”

Between that foppish peacock, his spiteful little twit of a nephew and the prancing lion, the latter just barely scrapes by as the best of the bunch.

“Enough, Daemon.” The king sighs, finally deigning to look up from his pile of rock. “These are the suitors she herself has chosen. I care not for the particulars, only that the girl should be wed before her eighteenth name day. Each of them possesses some quality I am sure she finds worthwhile…” At that, he pauses, brow furrowing. He squints up at Daemon. “What is your interest in the matter, anyway? It has naught to do with you.”

Shit. Daemon makes an evasive comment—something about sullying the purity of their noble lineage—and departs as quickly as he can, eager to escape the risk of Viserys’s suspicion falling on him. It would not do for the man to suspect his intentions toward yet another of his daughters.

He does not intend to seek you and the lord out, truly, but it nonetheless does not surprise him to realise that, upon freeing himself from the wrathful spiral of his own musings, his feet have taken him to the very same garden where he had first laid eyes upon you again after so many years, where you are now enduring the attentions of the insufferable Lannister patriarch. On this occasion, Cole is nowhere to be seen, and the entry is instead guarded by one of the Cargyll twins.

Daemon spies you on the path just inside, a careful distance placed between you and Jason. Though he cannot make out your expression from his vantage point, he observes well enough the flourishing bow the lord proffers in your direction, the polite curtsey you extend in return, his smug prancing step as he leaves your company. He sees the manner in which your shoulders droop, your head bowing as you turn to wander past the great tree and out of sight. My poor girl.

And then his view is blocked by a garish wash of red and gold.

“Prince Daemon,” Jason says with a haughty simper. With a curt nod, Daemon wordlessly returns the salutation. His lack of warmth is noticed. The Lannister lord hesitates for a moment before returning to his condescending civilities, forcing a relaxed stance. “I was most glad to hear of your return.”

He doubts that. There is little love lost between him and the lord. Jerking his chin toward the garden, he asks, “Leaving so soon, are we? I had thought the entire afternoon was devoted to this little outing.”

Jason chuckles awkwardly. “Well.” He scratches his beard. “The princess has another engagement to attend to. Something about a tutor.”

Thank the gods for that Lysan fellow. They had never met, but Daemon is certain he’d like the man well enough.

“Doesn’t concern you?” he asks, scarcely bothering to conceal the scepticism from his tone. At the confusion on Lannister’s face, he clarifies. “That she’d rather spend time with her tutor than with you?”

“Why would it, my prince?” is the answer, self-assured as ever. “He is old, and frail. Best for her to spend as much time with him as she can before she leaves for Lannisport.”

That genuinely irritates him, and not simply the notion of you being shipped off to the lurid monstrosity that is Casterly Rock. Even he knows that your meetings with your tutor are less obligations and more gatherings of friendship—your spirit would surely crumble if you were denied your dearest companion after being coerced to marry.

Daemon suppresses a sneer. “Your confidence is… admirable.” If misplaced, he wants to add.

“There is little competition to be found,” Jason says with a toss of the head. His tawny hair rustles in the gentle breeze, giving him the appearance of the sigil his house has claimed. Fucking ridiculous. Then, the man has the audacity to clap a palm against his arm. “Never fear—I shall take utmost care of her. She’ll want for nothing as my lady wife.”

He shrugs off the over-familiarity, stepping out of reach. “For a time, perhaps. And in a decade? Two? A princess of the realm has no business playing nursemaid to her husband in his dotage.”

He is older than I, he thinks. And if she is truly considering him above the others, then…

“I might be the eldest of her suitors, yes,” the man says, a tense smile disguising his offense poorly. “But I have a rather substantial inheritance, unlike the Prince Aegon, and my constitution is more… pleasing than the Lord Tyrell, I’m sure.” His mouth curves into a knowing smirk at that, leaving Daemon with no uncertainty as to what he really means. That little— “I would not dismiss Jason Lannister from the competition just yet. She will choose me. I suggest you accustom yourself to reality, Prince Daemon.”

He grunts dismissively, incensed. There is no reply he can give in this moment that won’t incite the Lannisters to break faith with House Targaryen; and so, he chooses to remove himself from the odious man’s presence entirely, stalking past with nary a word of farewell.

You sit where your younger half-sister had a scarce moon’s turn ago, eyes fixed toward your lap, turning an ornament about with your small fingers. As he nears, the lion salient glimmers in the sun, gold against gold in dazzling vulgarity. Of course, he’d gifted her something with his own fucking sigil on it. What a worthless bequest.

When he calls your name, you hardly react. Your gaze flickers up to him for a mere moment before falling once more, resuming your surveyance of the item in your grasp. There is a pensive expression lingering in your frown, the crease in your brow. It tells him all he needs to know of your true feelings for the Lannister lord, regardless of the man’s own delusions.

“Why—you look positively miserable, sweetling,” he says, settling himself beside you. You glance up at him again, sullen pout puffing out your lower lip. Though your disposition is so downtrodden, it is tempting to press his thumb to that lip, to push inside and feel the wet warmth of your tongue pulse against his flesh in a coquettish tease. “Not enjoying being courted? The gifts, the attention, the romance…”

You take the bait beautifully. Starting at his reference to the pendant in your hold, your nostrils flare exasperatedly. “No. No. I—I just—” You stop, shaking your head. “Never mind.”

“Go on,” he cajoles gently, lowly. “Tell Uncle Daemon.”

It is all the encouragement you need. “There is little romance to be found in this—this charade.” You sigh, eyes fixed on some minute detail past his head. He’s struck by the melancholy in your voice. “These men—Lord Jason, Lord Denys, Aegon—they do not want me. They want an idea of me. A Targaryen bride with pale hair and Valyrian blood. One who will give them children they shall make little effort to raise, a silent doll to clasp onto and show off at feasts and balls… as though possessing me is somehow meaningful. They do not—they do not see me.”

It’s here your voice cuts off strangely. He wishes it hadn’t, for he finds himself enthralled by the mournful monologue that paints a picture of the loneliest girl in King’s Landing. There is something yearning and haunted in that saccharine stare of hers, he thinks. A babe with her arms held out, wailing at the world as it leaves her abandoned in the crib. It’s an eerie echo of a conversation that took place a decade prior, though the lead role lacks the infantile petulance of the previous star.

He finds himself retracing those steps almost without realising.

“Idīnnon dēmalio syt verdilla mērī issa. Dīnakson toliot, gaoso gaomagon kostas.” He is testing, prodding, waiting for what might result from his efforts. Marriage is only a political arrangement. Once you are wed, you can do as you like.

The words make your cheeks flush fetchingly and your brow wrinkle once more, glancing back at him apprehensively. Pretty pink girl with a pretty pink blush; how far down does it spread? You swallow—pause—look away, wrestling with a thought. You peep back up at him.

“Se skorverdon jessivo aōt kesrȳsi jiōrtas?” you ask with surprising cynicism. You exhale loudly, staring at some fixed point in the distance. “Ābrazȳri buttā, riñar daor, mērpāves… Tolī jaelan.”

And how much joy did this bring you? you say. A wife you hated, no children, loneliness… I want more. The quiet longing in your voice is palpable.

He grimaces at the mention of his bronze bitch—he’d rather not know how widespread the knowledge of the circumstances around her… accident… had been in the wake of his departure.

“What is it you want, then?” he asks, switching back to the Common Tongue, the corner of his mouth already contorting in anticipation of the naïve response. True love, a happily ever after… We don’t get to have happy endings, he thinks to himself.

“I want someone who loves me,” you say, pressing on crossly at the huff of laughter that escapes him. “I never said I would love him!”

The pessimistic elucidation takes him aback. Again, it is not exactly what he had been expecting. Full of surprises today. He tips his head consideringly at you, inviting you to continue.

You hesitate for a moment.

“I… They say my father loved my mother. I believe it, but—” You swallow, the corners of your mouth turning down as you mull over your words. “They say he had a choice when baby Baelon was born. That he could cut her open to get the babe out, but that it would mean her certain death.”

Gods above. Where in the seven hells had you learned that piece of information? Viserys had kept the circumstances of Aemma’s death under tight wraps, never even deigning to mention it to his own brother. It was pure happenstance that one of the maids he enjoyed fucking at the time had been present on the unfortunate day.

Your eyes glisten as you speak, limpid pools of lilac glowing like fire in the light. “I do not think I could ever choose my own life over my child’s—but they say he did not even ask her, that he just… held her down while they—How could I ever trust a man to raise the babe I bore him if he would be willing to butcher his own wife in her childbed?”

He watches as you clench your eyes tight, set your jaw and exhale a few shuddery breaths. When they blink open, they are no longer so tear-bright. Daemon suddenly admires you for it, for the way you so ruthlessly suppress weakness. He wonders how often you’ve been made to force back your pain for the good of your family.

“What happened to your mother was a terrible tragedy, sweetling.” He reaches forward to finally grip your small, pale hand in his. It is cold and dwarfed entirely by his own. “But you cannot live in fear forever.”

You make to pull your hand away. He closes his grip tighter upon it, coercing you to look up at him properly.

“When hope is gone, what choice left is there but fear?” It is a whisper, carried on the breeze, and the thinly veiled misery pains him in the chest, right in his heart.

I thought that beating thing was black and dead by now, he thinks to himself.

You shake your head, smile. The picture of the melancholy maiden fades from view as you affect an appearance of energy once more, gentle and muted as it is. “I know my father loved my mother, and so love is no guarantee of loyalty. But it would be helpful, I think.”

“You see love and loyalty as intertwined, then?” he cannot help but ask. He is intrigued by this rare showing of spirit, of vitality, a resurrection of his baby niece from long ago. It is you, finally—his little girl, only now you possess the curves of a gold-gilded whore and the thousand-year gaze of an ancient, arcane being.

“Do you not?” Your head is tilted like an inquisitive bird’s, artlessly assessing. “You cannot have one without the other. Loyalty without love makes for an easy traitor, and love without loyalty makes for an unhappy marriage.”

He laughs again at the latter part of your pronouncement. A sweet, trusting little filly waiting to be broken in.

“There are many ways to love someone, princess.” He ogles you shamelessly, savouring the affectation of outraged bewilderment painting your countenance. “I imagine you’ll find few of them in the marriage bed.”

He waits for you to question him—to ask him what he means, to ask him to explain, to teach you, show you—but instead, you pull back, taking all the warmth from his palm with you.

“I dislike your implication, Uncle,” you say stiffly, returning your hand to your lap and nestling it between your thighs to retain the heat.

Fuck.

He backtracks raising his hands in a jesting show of defeat. “I meant nothing by it, gevivys.”

Beauty. It is an apt title. An underwhelming one, even. Surely there is little else more beautiful than the sight you make here, now, a rich blush spreading along the unblemished expanse of your chest—regrettably enclosed by pale damask just above the protrusion of your tits—the planes of your throat, not quite travelling up to decorate your cheeks.

You sigh. “You never do.”

Daemon lets the conversation lull, deciding to instead look upon the little revelation before him. You are an interesting puzzle, one whose decorum in the face of his gentle compulsion—that same persuasion he had so often utilised to get fetching girls to strip bare for him and show off their equally-as-fetching cunts—had instead left him lacking. The body of a slut and the mind of a scholar, all wrapped up in wide eyes and honey-sweet words and wild hair the shade of Old Valyria. Of home.

A wild thought seizes him. If he leans forward, he could do it. He could grip you by the back of the neck and pull you to him, press his lips to yours and coax you past your panic and fear and into a hot, sweeping rhythm, a push and pull of tongue and teeth that would set you both alight. And from there, how simple would it be to murmur pretty praise as he lowers you down, raises your skirts up, cleaves you open until your blood wets his cock with the proof of his claim, incontestable, not even by the king himself? The deed would be messy, perhaps distressing and no doubt painful, but it would solve several issues at once. He would be free to do as he likes with his lascivious desires after you are made to wed him, and you would be free from your pitiful suitors and given a husband worthy of you. In time, the hurt and shock and fright would fade, he knows it.

He could. He could. He—

The spell is broken. Your attention is diverted by the yells of a dark-haired boy as he bowls his way to you, throwing himself across your lap with a cry of your name. Daemon tries not to glare at young Lucerys as he tries to roughhouse with you. Having somewhat learned the schedules of his family, it baffles him somewhat that the child is not at his daily lessons. Should Laenor not have him now?

The thought must conjure the man himself, the Velaryon scion appearing seemingly out of nowhere. Laenor’s expression is forbidding as he strides over to you and his son, silver locs swinging with the velocity of each step. With his glare affixed to his face, he reaches a hand down to you in silent command, staring daggers at Daemon all the while.

What the hells is his problem?

You take hold of your goodbrother, bewildered, and allow him to tug you gently from the bench beside Daemon. Lucerys slides from beside you with a rustle, easily revolving around to dart toward the grass. You are already grabbing at the boy’s wrist to stop him running off.

Daemon watches Laenor attempt to rearrange his countenance into something less violent. “Would you take Luke off to the training yards, sister?”

A look of vague incomprehension crosses your face at the question. At least she senses the oddity, too, he acknowledges.

Laenor’s head turns down to where he sits, and it is then that it dawns on him that his nephew-by-marriage has very possibly been watching him stare at his baby niece’s tits for longer than he can claim plausible deniability of.

Ah, shit. The darting, mistrustful gaze suddenly makes sense.

“Of course, Laenor,” you say sweetly, biddably.

Daemon cannot help but wonder what else you might comply with if gently persuaded. He glances up at you from where he sits, smirking as you turn to him.

“It seems we must part for now, sweetling,” he tells you. He ignores Laenor’s grimace from behind you.

“It does.” You shift lightly. It is clear to see that there is something about your shared conversation that has unnerved you. The notion sends a trail of perverse excitement through him. He wonders what other reactions he might prompt out of you with gentle teasing. “I—thank you, Uncle. For listening.”

The words are honest, free of artifice. It is surprisingly warming to hear. When you make to depart, he calls you back.

“What—no goodbye kiss for your beloved uncle this time?” he asks, hoping he’ll bait you into action. He determinedly disregards Laenor’s huff, eyes trained on you as you swallow with trepidation before quickly making the short few steps back to him.

Your knee settles on the seat beside him, clearly meant to be no more than a brief resting place so that you may carry out his implicit request and leave—if not for the way in which your skirts gather around your leg in a manner assured to result in your toppling over should you attempt to rise without fixing them. Daemon turns his head to yours as you free yourself from the tangle. Up close, closer than he would ever dare get usually, he can see each lash that frames your eyes, the hairs that sprout from your brows, the slick cherry bloom of your mouth—a whisper-sweet gather of plump, plush fruit he wants, needs, to take a bite from.

Would you let me, little girl? he wonders.

You gasp, a short little breath of surprise, and lurch away lightly at the closeness. A brave little thing, you return to him, pressing those precious petal-soft lips to the skin of his cheek. Your covered breasts press involuntarily against his arm.

Fucking hells.

“Sȳz bantis, kepus.” Good evening, Uncle, you say in that light little accent of yours, an unintended provocation of his basest yearnings.

With that, you bundle the boy up in your capable little hands and make for your destination, the Cargyll knight falling into formation behind you.

“Care to explain—well, all of that?” Laenor asks.

Oh—yes. Daemon pushes himself from his seat, deliberately stalling while he thinks of a response that isn’t what the fuck how the fuck when the fuck and why.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” he says idly, slyly, glancing over at him.

“No!” His goodnephew leans forward into his space. He is taken aback by the vehemence in his tone, uncharacteristic of the bumbling, affable man. “You don’t get to do this to her. Not this one. Not this time.”

“Whatever do you think I plan to do to her?” Daemon laughs, wondering at the answer himself.

Whatever would she let me do to her?

Laenor sighs, steps back.

“Look.” He nudges him to walk alongside as they make for the garden’s entry. “She’s not one of your whores, Daemon. She’s just a girl. She’s not the type to play your twisted little games, so leave her be—please.”

He is warmed by the defence of your goodbrother, an admission of familiarity and care that is sure to have flourished since the man’s entrance into the family some years ago.

“What makes you think I have any intention of—how did you put it—playing games with her?” If he were a little less honest with himself, he would be affronted by the manner in which Laenor has jumped straight to an accusation. But Lord Flea Bottom’s reputation is inescapable, even after so many years. “Perhaps my objective is pure and wholesome.”

“Right.” Laenor snorts, shaking his head as he folds his hands behind his back. “You’re far more likely to fall in with her horde of suitors than to believably claim familial interest.”

True. And yet… why not? He’s conceived all manner of plots to satiate his wants, from drunken fumbles in the dark to his half-baked impulse from but a moment ago. Unlike his previous conquests, though, he doubts the need will dissipate after a single fuck. You are too important to him—his precious girl turned darkest desire, the only woman he could ever deign to carry on his line with.

Viserys has been pressuring him to seek out a bride. He mightn’t be happy with the prospect of his brother asking for his daughter’s hand, exactly, but there is surely no debate that he is the best contender. Not Jason. Not Denys. Not fucking Aegon. Daemon. And, well, if the asking should go poorly—how simple would it be to whisk you away to Dragonstone, to speak the vows and seal the deed before it can be undone? There is no risk this time, no Iron Throne to lose, no treaty or agreement that cannot be broken…

He can see it now. Your sweet little face peering up at him, marked with his blood, lip dripping red with the pledge of entangling your souls together in savage Valyrian custom. Your pretty little eyes wide with maidenly shock as he breaches your untried cunt, tight and pulsing and hotwetwarm, binding you to him irrevocably. The slow waddling of your gait as you round with child, his child, his sweetest babe bringing forth life of her own, belly ripe with seed and leaking his spend—

“Laenor,” he says slowly, eyes glinting as his lips upturn in a wide grin, “I do believe you have the best ideas.”

Read the story on AO3 here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/42100623/chapters/120880855

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[mrs-willow]

"A Raven and a Falcon" benji x oc

Disclaimer: I am not familiar with the Dance of Dragons books or the accurate storyline, so I have decided to change it to fit this story. I could not find an exact or reliable family tree for either House Blackwood or House Arryn, so I just made my own characters.  

The dance never actually happens!!! Viserys doesn’t die until he reaffirms Rhaenyra as his heir, and after that big family dinner, Rhaenyra returns on Dragon back, and she and Alicent talk out everything. There are mutual apologies, tears, laughter, and everyone lives. 

This is a sappy slow burn with angst, fluff, smut later, and everything I make up when I disassociate.  

This is literally my first post on here or any other website, so please be nice. I am writing this solely for my own enjoyment… there needs to be more Benjicot Blackwood material on this app.  However, I would still love feedback, and if there is something that you think would add to the story, message me, and I’ll see what I can do. 

Summary: Lady Lillian of the House Arryn reaches her eight and ten in a fortnight and has yet to be wed or promised to another Lord. After returning from Kings Landing for the coronation of Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, she is informed of her Father and brother's plans to wed her to a man she has only seen glimpses of and whose reputation is insanity and bloodlust. Lillian learns to love this new stranger, or will she be forced into a life of loneliness and solitude and made to produce heirs until she dies?

Warnings: smut (later), blood, violence, cursing, period typical sexism, alternating POVs, (idk lmk if I should add more stuff)

Chapter 1

As Caelan strode through the corridors of the Eyrie he pondered the rumors of the castle being haunted just as Harenhall is. The man had grown up running through these halls with his siblings, escaping the septas and playing games of war and duels, and yet he could not remember the strange sound of wind whistling through the columns and doorways, creating the strange feeling that someone was trying to speak with you. That fate awaits one as one grows from boy to man. 

Caelans riding boots echo on the dark stone as he makes his way to the Arryn family's apartments. The decorations adorning the walls turn from mosaic replicas of the vast mountain range the Castle was built in, with striking figures of falcons soaring through twenty-foot billowing clouds to soft tapestries displaying a man, his wife, and four beaming blonde children. Metalwork of falcons and moons adorns the tall arches of doorways, and vases of flows rode in from the reach sit colorfully in vases. 

This deep into the castle, the man and the flowers are protected from the harsh rain and winds whipping through the outermost corridors and open rooms. Still, as he enters Lord Arryns personal study, Caelan finds all four hearths of the great room lit as the aging man cannot escape the chill of a month's travel on the King's Road during winter.

At the sound of someone entering the great room, the old man looks up from the pages he had previously been contemplating. It's funny how a few words can cause so much stress. Robert Arryn was a kind man, loved by his bannerman, and respected in court and on the battlefield. His Knights of the Vale were among the fiercest armies in the Seven Kingdoms and were recently praised by the new Queen Rhaenyra when Robert matched them south as a show of support for the true Queen and a warning for those who mean to harm her. Among his Knights, the Seasnakes Armada, the Blackwood host, and the Northmen showed formidable support for their true queen. Yet, Robert is no longer a twenty-year-old man poised for battle and all manner of foolish, daring adventures, and this long trip has taken its toll on the man's bones.

He muttered as he met his son at the table. 

“The realms delight should’ve lived up to the title and held the coronation in spring to spare all us old men the pain of the cold set into our bones.” 

The young man subtly rolled his eyes away from his disgruntled father. “If you had listened to my warnings of the rain while on horseback, perhaps you would not be in such discomfort, Father,” Caelan teased with a small smirk. 

Robert sent the young man his most fearsome glare, “I will not be laughed at in my own home, boy. Now go get your father a pelt so he might not freeze to death in the damn winter.” 

Calan rose, joking that the “bloody Starks are always right at some point. Winter is Here.” 

The two men sat side by side momentarily, gazing into the crackling fire. One old man sat grateful that he had not been called to fight another war, “so much death and cruelty in the world,” he thought, “thank the old gods and the new that my children will not know war.” The younger man sat gazing at the flames, contemplating his father's reasons for calling him here at such a late hour with the castle all but asleep. His mind immediately drifted to the worst reasons for the summoning, and he prayed his worries would soon be eased when his Lord Father stopped being such a dramatic old crow.

“Father, why have you summoned me at such an odd hour?” Caelan questioned. The man knew better than to press his father for answers and thus sat patiently like a little boy waiting for his father's commands. 

Robert sighed. He then rose and retrieved the papers he had been studying when Caelan first arrived in the study. Wordlessly, Robert handed the letter to his son and resumed his place at the table, once again falling silent.

As Caelan reads the letter addressed to Lord Robert Arryn of the Vale, the reality of getting older becomes present and clear as the childhood he once knew begins to fade into blurry memories filled with love and laughter.

Caelan reaches his father's eyes, “Lillian is to be…” he pauses and lets his father's eyes answer his question. 

“She is to be Married,” Robert affirms. “She is nearly ten and eight; the time has come, and it would do her more harm than good to shelter her here until it truly is impossible for us to let her go or her to let us.”

Caelan leans back in the oversized chair he adorns, “She will be livid,” he warns his father. 

“Aye,” Robert agrees, “but that is the way of things and she cannot hide in these mountains forever.” 

“Father, I agree, but truly to that man?” Caelan questions. “You cannot possibly think that giving Lillian to a psycho would be wise?”

“Mind your tongue, boy,” Robert warns. “His father is one of my oldest friends and closest allies.” Robert reminds his emotional Son.

“Yes, of course, but that does not discredit the news we hear of his son. We mu-”

Robert rose swiftly from his chair, “I will hear none of this. Samwell Blackwood and I were raised side by side. We learned to shoot, ride, and wield swords together, and I trust that the man I grew up with raised a son who is equally honorable and just as he is.”

Caelan slumped forward, defeated. “At least allow me to inform her of this change to her life?” the man asked. “She will be more forgiving if it comes from me rather than you.”

Robert sighed. He felt pride swell in his breast for his eldest son and his three younger children. He was proud to have raised them in a manner that made them friends and confidants rather than enemies. He knew then and there that his eldest son would be equally loved and honored as Lord of the Vale when death came for him. 

“I will allow it, but it must be done in the morning. She will leave the day following her name day.” 

“Thank you, father. If I may retire to my chambers, I sense tomorrow will be a trying day.” 

Robert raised his hand and bid his son a good night, then called after him, “Caelan? Please tell her that I’m sorry.”

Caelan paused and sighed, “Father, you must tell her this yourself. Soon, she will no longer be a short walk from your own chamber.”

With that, the heir to House Arryn headed back toward his chambers and noticed that the howling in the halls sounded sweater, slightly more musical and feminine.

Back in the study, Lord Arryn stood in front of the hearth in contemplation. He reminisced about the times his family was still whole and couldn’t help but feel that he was chipping away yet another piece of his soul in allowing his daughter to leave the safety of her family.   

[moonfawnx]

Hands touching, fingers entangling

Nyx Archeron x reader

Chapter 1

Nyx stared at her.

She stared right back.

“Take her to Azriel- she needs to be questioned” his father ordered the two guards.

His heart faltered.

Would they take her to dungeons? Put her in a cell?

Gods she was so small, she couldn’t be older than 25 if she was a human.

“Father” he interrupted them talking.

His father’s eyes met his own, as the narrowed.

A silent question, he realised.

“I can speak to her, instead of Azriel” he spoke, as bis eyer went to his mother, who was looking at him confused.

But as she saw his expression, one of stubbornness and surprise, she understood.

“But-“ his father tried to object, before he was silenced by the high lady.

“Rhys darling, our son is the heir- he needs to learn how to handle this stuff. Let him.” she smiled at her mate.

The pair seemed to have a silent conversation, before Rhys sighed and nodded, before Feyre winnowed him away.

Nyx ordered the guards away as well, claiming that he could handle the girl in front of him.

Or maybe he couldn’t.

As soon as the guards were out, before he could even register what was happening, she had landed a punch straight on his face.

“Were you the one to tell them?” she asked angrily “Were you the reason they caught me?”

Nyx held his nose, a shocked expression on his face as he stared at the female in front of him, scolding him as if he wasn’t the prince.

“I have no clue of what you’re talking about, my lady” he tried to contain his small grin at the human’s fierce.

She was silent as she looked around, inspecting every single detail of his home. Now that he was given a closest look at her, he made sure to admire all of her features, from her shiny hair, to her deep green eyes, her delicate hands, and very, very short legs. Probably due to humanity.

And then, just like that, she turned around and started walking away from him.

“Um, excuse me?” he rushed to her side but was given no attention “My lady, you cannot-“

A frustrated sigh left her lips as she turned and looked at him.

“Respectfully, prince”she gave him a tight smile “i do not wish to be chewed out for sneaking here”

“you won’t be” the words left his mouth quicker than he’d ever imagine. “I mean- it was wrong of course but…”

“But what?” her eyebrow rose, giving him a curious expression.

“But it was also very impressive. And you must have some guts to do that” he breathed out, as he finally really thought about what happened.

A human, that didn’t even reach his shoulders in height, whom looked no more that two decades old, had somehow managed to sneak and twist his father’s shields?

How was that even possible, and why was no one else freaked out?

She opened her mouth, to speak again, but a loud crush interrupted her.

Both their heads snapped towards the direction where the sound came from, only to come face with a very bloody Amren, surrounded by broken bottles, leaking of blood.

“Oh my gods” The girl breathed out, staring at the creature as if she’d seen a ghost.

Nyx quickly remembered, that not everyone was used to his blood-drinking aunt and her unnatural looks, especially not a young human girl who probably didn’t even know the name of the high lord.

But before he even had the chance to explain to the girl the speciality of his aunt, her body was on the floor, passed out.

-

It was hours later, that Y/n woke up in a strange bed, worryingly huge. Her eyes fluttered as she eyed the area around her, noting the dark walls, but the richness evident.

She heard a sound, coming from the door across the bed she was laying in, and then the beautiful man from later, headed towards her, giving her a slight smirk.

Worst of all, the closest thing to garments on him, was the towel wrapped around his waist, as droplets slid through his skin.

“Well, look who’s finally awake” he grinned, fangs flashing.

“Where am i?” was all she answered with.

“This is my bedroom” He replied simply, as if it wasn’t weird how a stranger was in his bed.

Without another word, Y/n was up, heading towards the door, before the princeling stopped her by grabbing her wrist softly.

“And where do you think you’re going beautiful?” he shamelessly grinned at the girl in front of him.

“Three seconds” she only said.

His grin turned into a look of confusion.

“What do you mean”

“One” she started counting, as Nyx looked at her amused.

“Two” she continued, giving him a stern look.

“Three!” the heir finished her counting for her. “What does this even mean-“ he tried to ask, but was too late, as the girl quickly grabbed one of the plates on his near night stand, and smashed it on him.

Absolute wild eyes stared at her, appalled by the hit, and even if he would never admit it, mad that he did not predict that.

His hand rubbed his nose, scrunching it in pain. “Now what was that for”

“Do not touch me again” she sais dryly, completely unaffected by the smack she had landed on him.

“And you couldn’t just say that?” The heir asked bewildered, and for whatever sick reason, felt a soft attraction towards the girl in front of him, due to her obvious to everyone beauty.

“I-“ she started, but instantly paused as her eyes landed on something behind Nyx, towards his balcony.

He turned to also understand what she was looking for, and came across a bloodied Cassian and Azriel sparring.

“My god-“ he heard her mutter, and a few seconds later, she was falling, having fainted again,

“Fucking gods” the heir mumbled, as he once again placed the girl on his bed and-

And fucking headed to take care of his stupid bloody nose she had given him.

-

A/N i am aware this is a very short chapter but trust me, the fun starts by the next chapter!

Taglist: @acourtofsmutandstarlight @writeroutoftime

[nykuna]

THE IRONY OF FATE

Chapter 1 : The beginning of the end.

pairing : Ryomen Sukuna x fem reader

cw : angst, mention of drugs and alcohol, slow burn, romance

synopsis : After leaving all your bad memories behind in your homeland, you leave the country with your best friend to start afresh. The ghosts of your past seem to keep haunting you, but when you finally get your life back together, your new-found stability seems to be shattered when you meet this mysterious stranger one night.

Is he a blessing or a cruel joke of fate?

jjk alternate universe : no jujutsu sorcerers, everyone is human.

The sun starts to set when your alarm goes off, 10PM, working nights really starts to take its toll on your health, but it's not like you have a choice anyway.

Staring at the alarm on your phone, you feel unable to get out of bed; you worked a double shift the night before and only got a few hours' sleep, plus a strange feeling is tormenting you. Something in your guts is telling you that today’s gonna be a bad day, but whatever, you’re used to them now.

You work as a barmaid in one of the city's fanciest clubs, and your boss has always insisted that you come to work dressed, since it's not unusual for you to serve celebrities of all kinds.

~

Once you're ready, you finally emerge from your room to find your roommate Lily. She’s your best friend since childhood, and you've both decided to move to another country to start afresh after a series of unfortunate events in your native land.

You've barely had time to get to the living room when she rushes from her room to show you her phone.

[boxing championships in tokyo, professional fighting…]

You could only read the first sentence when she explains her excitement seeing that you're having trouble keeping up.

« It was yesterday y/n!! They might still be here today, i’m ready to bet they’re gonna go to your club tonight… » she chirps, now you understand where she’s going, she has the biggest crush on one of the fighters hence the excitement.

« Let me guess, you're coming tonight and waiting for him to arrive to shoot your shot am i right?" You laughed, she pouts at you while you put your shoes on. « , i could use a pretty boxer to change my mind, if he does come, better hope he brings a friend » you wink before leaving the apartment.

~

You finally arrive at work a little early. You decide to sit at the bar and watch the show unfold before your eyes. The lights are dimmed and you're watching a group of men who seem to be chatting away, when something catches your eye.

You must have missed the news, but a group of traditional dancers perform fire-wielding choreography to music that seems to send the audience into a kind of trance.

You don't know if it's because you're tired, but the whole thing seems almost unreal to you, and you lose yourself in your thoughts, watching the sparks fly over your head.

You used to love that kind of performance, especially fireworks, that was his thing. It had become your tradition, whenever something went wrong, you went to light fireworks on the beach and laugh till you dropped. Fire had always been paradoxically comforting for you, but now that he's gone, it seems the bright lights have nothing to offer you anymore.

You're still reminiscing about all those precious memories when your colleague pulls you out of your thoughts.

"You should go and get ready y/n, your shift starts in 5 minutes!" Suguru tells you, smiling gently.

Back in reality, your eyes open wide as you realize you've been in your thoughts for 20 minutes, you hurry to join Suguru behind the bar, then into the break room to change and finally start your shift. But the foreboding you've had since waking up doesn't seem to want to leave you in peace, something hovers in the air and you're unable to put your finger on it.

For the next few hours, you'll be making drinks and chatting with customers, and even though you don't like wasting your time on trivia, you know that by doing so you can guarantee yourself a generous amount of tips.

Your night finally brightens up when you see Lily walk through the door, thanking the bouncer and walking towards you with a big smile.

« Y/n !! How’s your night going ? Seen anyone…? » she asks, looking around in the hope of finding what or who she's come for.

"If he's here he's not in the main room, i would’ve seen him, but suguru told me there was a table upstairs that had ordered a huge amount of drinks, and that a lot of girls seem to be milling around..." you explain while cleaning glasses.

« oh my god so it might really happen…I'll wait for you to finish, and then would you come upstairs with me?" she asks, making sweet eyes.

« Obviously, I'm not going to let you into the lion's cage on your own," you smirk and go back to serving your customers.

~

Finally finished with your shift, you head into the break room to find Suguru slumped on one of the sofas.

"Do you want to go for a smoke? I can't stay longer tonight..." He says, handing you a cigarette.

"Hell yes, I've been looking forward to this all evening" You tell him as you untie your hair and put on your jacket.

You head for the rear exit to avoid the chaos of the main smoking room, as you pass through the door, the cold wind engulfs your lungs and wakes you from your emerging fatigue.

You walk with your coworker to the nearest bench and ask him how his evening went.

"Not great, the boss is really becoming unbearable. I wonder if I'm going to start looking for a new club to work at to be honest." he says with his head in his hands, looking really exhausted, depressed even.

"What has he done now for you to come to this? And if you leave, I don't know how I'll cope, you're the light of my nights" you try to cheer him up by making him laugh, but there's some truth in what you say. You've been working here for two years now, it was Suguru who helped you get hired, and he's now one of the people dearest to your heart, no longer just a colleague but a true friend.

Even so, you couldn't help noticing that his mental health seemed to be plummeting lately. He's not the type to rant about his feelings, but you think it might have something to do with his ex-girlfriend who left him a few months earlier for another man.

"I'll be honest, it was never my dream to work here, I had bigger plans but I met her and dropped everything for her, she wanted someone stable so I took the first job that came along and now here I am, she's dumped me after I sacrificed everything for her, and I have to put up with an abusive boss who only increases our hours without paying us of course."

You sit beside him in silence, this being the first time you've heard him confide in you so much. You're grateful that he feels comfortable enough to tell you all this, but part of you can't help worrying. How much was he repressing his feelings, and for how long?

"I don't know the whole story, but what I am sure of is that you shouldn't stand by and watch your youth and dreams slip through your fingers, by staying here you're letting her steal a part of you. I know that whatever your dreams are, you're capable of making them come true and-" before you can finish, his phone rings.

He looks at the name on the screen and apologizes sincerely, but explains that he must take the call at all costs. You tell him there's nothing to worry about and that you'll see him the day after tomorrow as you're off tomorrow. He kisses you on the cheek and thanks you for your words before leaving for his car parked a little way off.

Now you find yourself alone in the dark night, lit only by the club's neon lights. You realize that you've never smoked a cigarette and decide to have a quick one before joining Lily, your thoughts continuing to orbit around what suguru has told you.

You reach into your bag and pockets for your lighter, but it's nowhere to be found. You realize Suguru must have left with it.

You wander around, hoping to find someone who can lend you one without having to go to the smoking room.

After a good 5 minutes wandering around without success, you spot smoke around the corner of the building. amen.

You move towards the figure, but can't help realizing just how imposing he is, as you gradually see him appear through the fog.

You just stand there, maybe it's the sizzling red lights that plunge you back into the memories you're trying hard to forget, or maybe it's this tall, mysterious stranger standing alone, upright with his back to you. Your mind is probably playing tricks on you, but you can't help feeling some kind of attraction to him. Your foreboding is tormenting you more than ever, and it doesn't bode well.

"You're just going to stand there?" A deep, stoic voice forces you out of your thoughts. When you look up, you realize that he's now facing you, but he doesn't even deign to look at you. His aura is intoxicating, the attraction you felt earlier almost unbearable. He's wearing a black hoodie and matching jogging pants. Your eyes trace his body back to his face. Tattoos can be seen out in the darkness on his face, and seem to run down his neck, maybe even further.

"Shit, sorry, I got lost in thought, do you have a lighter I could use?" you ask, trying to sound as indifferent as possible. But your voice is probably shaking, because no matter how intimidating and obviously unpleasant he can be, he's extremely attractive and it's been a long time since you've felt that way about anyone.

He finally lowers his head to look at you, you do your best to hold his gaze, but it's hard to remain impassive. You must really be going crazy, but you could swear his eyes are sparkling red. again, it's probably just the combination of the lights and your twisted mind making you hallucinate.

"A lighter? only if you come and have a drink with me afterwards" he smirks. You can't help but notice a sparkle in his eyes, almost like a predator cornering his prey. Unfortunately for him, you could see right through him, as you yourself are used to this game, this hunt.

Besides, you were meeting Lily for drinks anyway, so a little male distraction wouldn't hurt.

"That's fine with me, you can go back inside if you're done I'll join you." you say as you turn to lean against the wall, hoping to breathe one and pull yourself together.

"pretty girl, I doubt you could join me on the VIP floor dressed like that, no offense." he says, lifting your head by the chin.

"I could go in my pajamas if I wanted, I work here dumbass." you escape from his grip and throw your still lit cigarette at his feet. "find someone else to piss off, I have to join someone anyway." That's all you say before moving towards the entrance.

~

You were a little annoyed to say the least, for once you'd felt really attracted to someone, and he turned out to be an asshole. But as you walk back into the club, you can't help but smile again at the thought of finding Lily.

Heading for the stairs, you stop to greet Shoko as she starts her shift, grab a couple of drinks for you and Lily and continue upstairs.

Once you're upstairs, the atmosphere is completely different. Unlike the people downstairs, who indulge in socializing and fiery dancing, everything is more subdued here, with bottle girls taking turns to serve customers who treat them like dirt.

You spot Lily at the back of the room, scanning her surroundings. She's sitting in one of the booths, laughing with a group of people who have obviously spent an obscene amount of money on alcohol.

As you walk towards her, your eyes widen, she was right. You immediately recognize the tall, white-haired man she's spoken of so often, and see that she's wasted no time in talking to him. You smile as you imagine how happy she must be, especially as he seems to be enjoying her company.

Lily's eyes light up when you arrive at the table, and she jumps into your arms. She introduces you to everyone and you finally sit down next to her.

You tell her what happened a few minutes before at the back of the club, she can't believe her ears and starts insulting the stranger, laughing along with you.

"If you don't want to go home alone tonight, you're spoilt for choice" she chirps, and she's absolutely right. Everyone around this table is particularly beautiful. But you wouldn't expect anything less from a group of top athletes.

"Mind if i borrow her ? I'm gojo satoru by the way, but since you're close to Lily, you can call me satoru" the white-haired man steps forward to greet you. Not really your style, but you do understand Lily's interest.

"no problem she's all yours, y/n delighted" you smile as you watch them go downstairs to get drinks, which seems strange given that VIPs are served at the table, but seeing the wink Lily gives you as she leaves, you understand that they probably want to be alone for whatever reason.

You find yourself alone, so you look around hoping to find a familiar face, and how disappointed you were to realize that the only face familiar to you was that of the asshole from earlier.

His eyes meet yours and he smiles sideways, stands up and approaches you. There it is, the attraction, the lump in your stomach, maybe it's the alcohol you've ingested, but he looks even more handsome in the light, the color of his eyes still blood-red to you and you can't look away.

"missed me too much baby?" he says, sitting down next to you, much too close.

You take a breath, for some reason the air is almost unbreathable in his presence. You can feel your heart racing in your chest, but why? You weren't likely to find out any more tonight, after his question, you finished your drink in one gulp, it was going to be a long night.

more updates on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/56234707/chapters/142859620

nyc <3

[mrs-fatu]

Blossom in Summer

Chapter 1: Why me?

Paring: jey uso x Jasmine (fem!reader)

Warnings: Language, anger, confusion

WC: 2,824

Summary: Jasmine wakes up in an unfamiliar bedroom with no memory of last night. Who is this man? And why did he pick her?

As I slowly opened my eyes, the morning sun cast a warm glow across the lavish bedroom, bathing me in a soft, golden light. The silk curtains, adorned with intricate patterns, seemed to dance in the gentle breeze, and the sweet scent of dior Sauvage wafted through the air, filling my senses. But as I sat up, my head began to pound, and I was hit with a wave of confusion. Where was I? This wasn't my bedroom. The silk sheets tangled around my bare legs felt luxurious, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I was a stranger in this unfamiliar surrounding.

I forced my eyes open again, taking in the room around me with a sense of disorientation. The walls were a deep, rich blue, accentuated by traditional lavalavas hanging in beautifully crafted frames. To my left stood an antique black armoire, its intricate carvings telling a story of elegance and sophistication. The plush blue rug beneath the massive four-poster bed seemed to have been imported from a far-off land, and I felt like I was sleeping on a cloud.

As I sat up, holding my throbbing head in my hands, memories of the previous night began to trickle back. The fancy cocktail bar with my friends, doing shot after shot of tequila until the night blurred into a haze. Stumbling into a swanky hotel suite afterward, though I couldn't remember exactly how I'd gotten there. Who did this room belong to? And where had they gone? The questions swirled in my mind like a whirlpool, pulling me under.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood up on shaky feet, clutching the bedpost for support. My head felt like it was going to split open, and I needed to figure out what happened and get out of here. As I looked down at myself, I saw that I was still wearing the silky black dress from last night, now wrinkled and creased. It was then that I noticed something heavy on my left wrist - a tennis bracelet so bright it almost blinded me. What was it doing there?

Just as I was trying to make sense of the strange circumstances, the door on the side of the room swung open, and a tall figure emerged. He stood at 6'2", his chiseled physique on full display as he walked towards me. His ebony shorts clung to his toned thighs and waist, accentuating his inked legs and tribal tattoos that glistened against his damp skin.

His hair was styled in a seductive mullet, and his lips sported a perfect shade of color, revealing his dazzling grillz as he parted them. It was like he had stepped out of a steamy romance novel, and I felt like I was staring at a character come to life.

"Morning," he spoke, his deep voice low and husky.

I stood there in shock, unable to form words. He walked around me, opening a drawer from his dresser to pull out his clothes. My eyes followed him, mesmerized by the way his muscles flexed as he moved.

"I'm sorry, who...?" I stuttered before I could finish.

But before I could even get the words out, my stomach began to churn and I felt like I was going to vomit. I stumbled backward, but it was too late. The morning sickness washed over me, and I threw up right on the floor.

He darted towards me, concern etched on his face. "Shit, you good?" he asked as he brushed away a dangling curl from my face.

"I'm sorry...I'm..." I spoke, feeling tears pricking at the corners of my eyes.

But before I could finish speaking, he ushered me towards his bed and sat me down on the edge. "Sit down," he said softly.

As he left the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts and emotions, I felt like my world was spinning out of control.

I just wanted to go home, to crawl back into my own bed and forget the reckless night I had just endured. But instead, I found myself in a luxurious bedroom, surrounded by the opulent trappings of a life that was not my own. A diamond tennis bracelet glinted on my wrist, a constant reminder of my foolishness. How could I have been so irresponsible, drinking so much that I ended up in this strange and unfamiliar place?

As I sat on the bed, trying to gather my thoughts, my phone began to ring. I picked it up from the nightstand, hoping for some semblance of normalcy in this chaotic situation. "Hello?" I spoke, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Girl, where the hell are you?" asked my best friend Natasha, her voice laced with concern.

"I...I don't even know," I replied, trying to gather my thoughts. "I'm with a man, and...and I threw up on his carpet, so..."

Natasha's laughter came through the phone, followed by a gasp. "Wait, is he sexy?" she asked, her tone playful.

"Um, well...he looks like he's from some kind of Pacific Island or something," I replied. "He has all these tribal tattoos and lavalavas on his wall."

Natasha's squeal of excitement was music to my ears. "Don't stop there, bitch! Tell me more! How does he look?"

I took a deep breath before launching into a detailed description of the mans handsome features. "Well, he has a short-cut mullet, and he's kinda muscular. His thighs are thick...and he has bottom grillz...and his voice is low and smooth."

Natasha's reaction was immediate. "Oh my god, Jas! You're in trouble!"

I glanced up to see him standing in the doorway, his expression unreadable. "Shit, I gotta go," I said hastily. "he's back."

"Okay, girl, let me know if you need me to pick you up," Natasha said, her voice dripping with concern. "I love you, be safe Jaz."

The line went dead as Natasha hung up, leaving me alone with him once more. I felt a sense of trepidation wash over me as he walked towards me, his eyes fixed on mine with an intensity that made my heart skip a beat.

-

As I stood up from the bed, I felt a sense of unease wash over me. He had just finished cleaning up the spot where I had vomited, and now his eyes were locked onto mine with an intensity that made my heart skip a beat. I felt a flush rise to my cheeks as I met his gaze, my mind still foggy from the previous night's excesses.

"I'm really sorry...I need to leave," I said, trying to sound apologetic as I began to step into my shoes.

His eyes darted as he stood up, his expression unreadable. "You just gonna forget about last night?" he asked, his tone laced with accusation.

I hesitated, searching for the right words to say. The truth was, I didn't remember what happened last night. It was all a blur of music, laughter, and tequila shots. But I knew that I couldn't keep it up forever, not when I had no idea what had happened or who this man was.

"I don't..." I paused, feeling a sense of embarrassment wash over me.

The man let out a huff, his expression turning annoyed. "Damn, you don't even remember," he said, his voice dripping with disappointment.

"I am very sorry," I said, trying to apologize once again. "And...the bracelet. You can have it back, I'm sorry."

I started to unhook the bracelet, feeling a sense of relief wash over me as I handed it back to him. But instead of taking it from me, he spoke up again.

"Just keep the bracelet, Jaz. I don't want it back. If you want to leave then go, the door is over there," he said, his tone hostile.

I was taken aback by his words. "I'm sure you spent hella on it," I said, trying to reason with him. "I don't want to..."

But he cut me off again. "Bruh, keep it, Jaz. I gave it to you for a reason."

His words were laced with aggression, and I felt a shiver run down my spine as I realized that he was genuinely upset with me. But why? What had happened last night?

As I stood there, feeling a sense of unease wash over me once again, he spoke up again.

"And I bet you don't even remember my name huh?" he asked, his tone dripping with disdain.

I lightly shook my head, feeling a sense of shame wash over me. How could I have forgotten someone's name?

He sucked his teeth in disgust before speaking up again. "It's Joshua, Jey Uso," he said agitatedly. The name sounded slightly familiar but not quite.

With that, I grabbed my purse and made my way towards the door. As I left the room, I couldn't help but feel a sense of relief wash over me. I had no idea what had happened last night or who Jey was or why he was so upset with me. All I knew was that I needed to get out of there before things got any worse.

-

I stood on the sidewalk of the penthouse, my head still throbbing with a dull ache. The morning sunlight was harsh, and I winced as I squinted up at the towering skyscrapers. I pulled out my phone and dialed the familiar number, hoping that my friend Tiffany would be able to come and rescue me from this situation.

As I waited for her to answer, I took a deep breath and tried to clear the fog from my mind. What had happened last night? Who was Jey Uso, and why did he seem so angry with me? And why, for that matter, had he let me keep the diamond tennis bracelet? It didn't make any sense.

The phone rang again, and Tiffany's cheerful voice answered. "Hey, what's up?"

I took a deep breath before speaking. "Hey, can you come get me? I'll send you the address."

Tiffany's voice turned serious. "Yeah, I'll see you soon. Be careful."

The line went dead, and I was left standing alone on the sidewalk, feeling like I was in a fog. Who was Jey Uso, and why had I ended up in his penthouse apartment? What had happened last night, and why did I have such a pounding headache?

-

As I stood there, trying to make sense of it all, my thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a car approaching approaching. It was Tiffany, looking stylish and put-together as always in her benz.

"Hey, girl, get in" she said, concern etched on her face. i stepped into her car and took a deep breath, "What happened?"

I shook my head, feeling a sense of relief wash over me as I handed her the keys. "I don't know," I said. "I don't remember anything from last night."

Tiffany's eyes widened in surprise. "What do you mean?"

I shrugged. "I don't know who Jey Uso is or what happened. But I need some coffee and some crackers. Like, right now."

i rubbed my temples in an attempt to alleviate the throbbing headache, my friend Tiffany's eyes lit up like a bright light bulb. "JEY USO?" she yelled in question, her voice piercing the morning air.

I winced, feeling a wave of pain wash over me. "Goddamn girl, my head," I groaned, trying to hold onto my sanity.

Tiffany's eyes sparkled with excitement. "I'm sorry, but you said his name is Jey Uso, right?" she asked, her voice filled with curiosity.

I nodded my head, feeling a sense of resignation wash over me. "Yeah, why? Then he let me keep this bracelet," I said, holding up my wrist to show her the diamond tennis bracelet.

Tiffany's reaction was immediate. She squealed like a little child, her eyes wide with excitement. "YOU STAYED WITH JEY USO AND HE GAVE YOU A TENNIS BRACELET?" she repeated, her voice rising to a near-shriek.

I palmed my face, feeling a sense of embarrassment wash over me. "My head. Please stop screaming," I begged.

Tiffany's laughter died down, and she looked at me with a mixture of amusement and concern. "Oh, girl, I'm sorry. Jey Uso is the WWE wrestler, and he's fine as hell!" she exclaimed.

I gave her a skeptical look, feeling a sense of unease. "What? Come on, you can't tell me he's not sexy. He's main event Jey Uso. And God, the way he flicks his tongue... We have to go to the supershow tonight, you gotta see him in the ring," she said.

I raised an eyebrow, feeling a sense of trepidation. "I mean, he's okay, but he was kinda rude. If going to the show will make you happy then sure. But I really need some fucking coffee," I said.

Tiffany rolled her eyes. "Fine, we'll get you coffee and then get ready for the show," she said before driving off into the morning traffic.

I couldn't help but feel a sense of confusion. Who was Jey Uso, and why did he seem so angry with me? And what had happened last night? The questions swirled in my mind like a whirlpool, refusing to be silenced.

But for now, all I could think about was getting home and getting some coffee into my system. Maybe then things would start to make sense again.

—

I knew that having a hangover wasn't the best, but coffee always seemed to come in handy.

I reached for my trusty brush and gel, and began to work my hair into a sleek, curly ponytail. The hard bristles of the brush glided effortlessly through my locks, leaving them smooth and tamed. I then moved on to my eyebrows, using a precision brow pencil to reshape them into a thin, arching shape that I preferred. The gentle strokes of the pencil seemed to calm my frazzled nerves, and I felt a sense of clarity wash over me.

With my brows in order, I turned my attention to my makeup. I carefully applied a light foundation to even out my complexion, followed by a subtle blush to give my cheeks a healthy glow. A swipe of mascara added depth and drama to my lashes, and a swipe of lip balm left my lips feeling soft and hydrated.

As I finished up my makeup routine, I stood up and surveyed my reflection. I was pleased with the results - my hair looked luscious and bouncy, and my makeup was understated yet effective. I then gathered my clothes, selecting a nice outfit that would see me through the day.

As I dressed, I couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the simple pleasures in life - a hot shower, a good cup of coffee, and a fresh start. The night moonlight streaming through the window seemed to hold promise, and I felt a sense of renewed energy coursing through my veins.

I took one last look at myself in the mirror, smoothing out any wrinkles or creases in my outfit. Satisfied with the result, I headed out into the night, ready to face whatever happens.

-

As I emerged from the hotel, I was greeted by the warm night and the sound of Tiffany's horn blaring in the distance. I rushed towards the car, my mind still foggy from the lingering effects of the night before. As I slipped into the passenger seat, Tiffany flashed me a bright smile. "You look good, girl!" she exclaimed.

I smiled back, feeling a sense of gratitude for her kind words. "Thanks, you look good too," I replied, taking in her stylish outfit.

As we hit the road, Tiffany began to drive, her eyes fixed on the windshield. "Okay, so remember, we're going to see Jey tonight. I got us front row tickets, so at least cheer when he comes out, because I definitely will," she said, her voice filled with excitement.

I raised an eyebrow, feeling a sense of confusion wash over me. What was up with this man? Why did women like Tiffany drool over him so much? I mean, I got it - he was hot as hell - but I didn't understand all the hype. The traffic lights seemed to be flashing in sync with the diamond bracelet on my wrist, and all I could think about was why me? What had happened? Would it all come back to me?

As we navigated through the crowded streets of Las Vegas, my mind began to wander back to the night before. The anger in Jey's eyes as I told him I didn't remember anything was still etched in my memory. It was enough to keep me away from him, to make me realize that I didn't need another angry man in my life. Not again.

After dealing with Aaron, I had promised myself that I wouldn't dare let another angry man into my life again. And now, as I sat in the car with Tiffany, I knew that I had to keep my distance from Jey Uso. Maybe after the show, I could find him and give him the bracelet back - never look back. It would be for my own good.

As we pulled up to the venue, I took a deep breath and let my thoughts settle. I had five days left in Vegas, and I was determined to make the most of it. No more worrying about waking up in a random man's bed. No more drama or stress. Just me, myself, and a fresh start.

[forestkniight]

I'll Be Seeing You

✯ Chapter 1 ✯ Chapter 2 ✯

Thank you guys so much for your patience! With college and rehearsals in the way, I don't have much free time, but I hope you all enjoy it!

Pairing: Fizzarolli x Reader

Warning: Cursing, Violence, Attempted Kidnapping

Word Count: 3.7K

I’ve heard of affairs

That are strictly platonic

But diamonds are a girl’s best friend

You walk around the stage, entirely in the music, in this character you’re portraying. The audience hangs onto every word you sing, which surprised you when you first started working here. You hadn’t expected so many sinners to want to listen to something that wasn’t about sex or violence. Considering the number of people who often listen to the radio, you should have known. 

And I think affairs

That you must keep liaisonic

Are better bets

If little pets get big baguettes

You look at the audience and notice a few familiar faces and some new ones. You wink at an older regular who only came to hear you sing because it reminds him of when he was alive on Earth. You continue to look out in the audience as you start heading down the stairs towards everyone. Your eyes land on someone who the character you're playing would chase. He looks rich enough. 

You slowly strut over as you continue singing. You see his eyes, all four of them widen when he notices you coming directly towards him—poor thing. You look at his table and notice the empty seat across from him. Strange. 

You finally reach him, slide a finger under his face, and lift it to look at you. You feel him swallow before you quickly drop your hand and spin to your left, moving to stand behind his chair. You grab the chair with your right hand while the left is outstretched. 

I don’t mean rhinestone

But diamonds are a girl’s best

You spin to your left against the chair, so you end up falling in the gentleman’s lap, sitting sideways. 

Best friend

While you sing the last two words, you quickly tap two fingers against your lips before lightly tapping your fingers once on the stranger’s cheeks. You notice a slight blush on his face as you stand and return to the stage. You would typically kiss your target’s cheek, but this man looks red-faced enough with your attention on him. 

“So good to see all of you lovely folks here tonight,” you say breathlessly in the microphone. 

The crowd cheers, and you smirk. Being up on stage was healing. You weren’t that little child stuck in the rafters anymore. You commanded attention now. 

“While I would love to stay out here performing for you all night,” you hear sounds of disapproval before you can even finish. 

“Now, now, you can come down and see me any time, but tonight, we have a set of talented musicians ready to get you out of your seat and onto the dance floor instead. But I can’t leave you all without one more song,” you giggle as your back faces the audience. 

You slowly turn around with your eyes closed. The warmth of the spotlight touches your skin, and you smile brightly as you bring the microphone to your lips. 

Prim and proper, the girl who’s never been kissed

You open your eyes and turn so your side profile faces the audience, putting on a show. You hear a couple of whistles as you sing. 

Well, I’m tired of being pure and not chased

You turn back to face the audience and drag your hand from your thigh to your stomach, between your chest, and up your neck until your hand flourishes. You knew it was slightly suggestive, but you would be lying to yourself if you didn’t accept part of the reason you were hired. Even if you didn’t believe it some days, you were easy on the eyes, making audiences especially susceptible to your performances. 

You continue singing the song, mainly focusing on everyone sitting closest to the stage. By winking at them, you give special attention to those placing money on the stage. Some respond shyly, while others, your least favorite, get this nasty look in their eyes as they smirk at you. A similar feeling to one you’ve felt before. A feeling that makes you feel small. You shake your head as you head down the stairs of the stage once more. 

I wanna sing songs like the guy who cries

I wanna be horrid, I wanna drink booze

As you sing that line, you notice one of the bouncers on break in the audience and smirk. You take a drink from the beer in front of them before giving them a wink, to which they laugh and shake their head. 

You turn away to continue giving everything into your final song for the night. You turn around and notice the stranger from earlier, and you decide he will be the last person you tease for the night. 

And whatever I’ve got, I am eager to lose-

You didn’t even reach his table before you felt your heart drop. Across from him was a face you hadn’t seen in years. Blitzo. Blitz. His confused eyes stare up at you. He doesn’t recognize you. You quickly turn back to the stranger to try to make the sudden stop in singing make sense. 

“Sorry, pretty boy. I didn’t know you were a taken man,” you force a giggle as you quickly make your way back up the stage. 

You turn to the pianist.

“Sorry, sweets. Let’s take it where I left off,” you smile sweetly, and the pianist returns the smile and nods. 

I wanna be evil, little evil me

Just as mean and evil as I can be

The room erupts in a cacophony of cheers as you take your bow. You gesture over at your pianist, who also bows to the room. You turn back, and you smile as you take another bow. You look out to the audience as they beam up at you. You dare another glance at Blitz, except he isn’t looking up at you directly. He’s looking at something lower. You raise your eyebrows before looking down, and you see it. Your locket must have slipped out like it typically did during performances, except you never really had to worry about it…until now. 

He looks back at you with an undistinguishable expression, and you try to look away while keeping a smile on your face. You cannot freak out now. You just have to get off the stage, and then you can go home. 

“Thank you, thank you! Now, please help me welcome our next performer,” you yell out as you take a final bow before calmly walking towards the opening curtains. You smile at the next performer before the curtain closes, leaving you again in darkness. 

There is absolutely no way. You begin walking back towards your dressing room and think about what you saw. He looks different. He wasn’t a teenager anymore, that’s for sure. Neither were you. You noticed that he had burn marks on his face, but it was still his face. It’s hard to forget the face of one of your best friends, even if it does look slightly different. 

You sigh as you change out of your outfit and into comfier clothing as you take off your makeup. If you are lucky, he didn’t even recognize you. The look he gave you was probably because his date told him that you chose him as your target of some very minimal flirting. While looking directly at the locket around your neck. But also, the spotlight is extremely bright, so maybe you imagined it all. Yeah, that was it. There was no need to panic. Everything would be okay. You smile at yourself in the mirror to convince yourself of that. You’re interrupted by a knock on the door. 

“Um, hello,” you call out as you turn to face the door. 

You were never typically bothered after a performance. 

“Are you decent? Can I come in?” 

Stage manager.

“Uhh, are you by yourself,” you ask hesitantly. 

“Yes?” 

You roll your eyes at your behavior. You’re being so paranoid.

“Sure, come in,” you say as you turn back to face your mirror. 

The stage manager walks into your room before closing the door. 

“Good job out there tonight.”

You shoot her a smile through the mirror’s reflection.

“Thanks, kid.”

“So…weird that you asked if I was alone. Were you expecting guests in the audience tonight,” the stage manager asks while looking down at the clipboard in her hands.

You feel your heart drop. You are hoping this conversation wasn’t leading where you thought it was. 

“No.”

The stage manager looks surprised.

“Oh! That guy you sat on was asking to see you. His name is,” the stage manager looks down at her clipboard again. “Stolas.”

You drop your makeup wipe.

“As in the prince?”

What in the hell is Blitz doing with a prince? How could you not recognize him? To be entirely fair to yourself, it could be pretty dark towards the back of the club…is what you’re telling yourself. 

“I guess? He was insistent that he needed to see you,” the stage manager says while leaning towards the door, listening to the music outside.

“Was he with anyone?” 

“No, ma’am,” she shifts as she gets antsy to return to her post, “plus, if he is a prince, as you said, and he’s interested, you’ll get your wish of getting with someone rich.”

You raise your eyebrows.

“You know I just sing ‘Diamonds are a Girl’s Best Friend,’ right? I don’t apply it to my real life. I don’t value wealth over meaningful relationships,” you explain.

You see the stage manager’s cheeks turn red. 

“I’m sorry,” she starts, but you wave her off. 

“Send him in,” you sigh as you work on fixing your appearance again.

So much for being comfy; maybe the finger kiss was too much. You hear the stage manager sigh and make eye contact with her through the mirror, raising your eyebrows. 

“Look, between you and me, there was someone else with him, but he told Stolas to say it was just him because you wouldn’t agree to see them if you knew he was there,” she exclaims. 

You feel like you’re going to be sick. You didn’t think you could do this tonight, especially since today seemed to have more blasts from the past than usual. 

“Oh, fuck,” you mutter.

You become hyper-aware of your breathing and raise your hand to your chest. You can not do this tonight. You quickly turn towards the stage manager, who looks concerned.

“Look, kid, Emmie? That’s your name, right,” you ask as you turn to face her. 

She seems shocked that you know her name, and she nods. 

 “I need your help, Emmie. I need you to cause a distraction and lead them away so I can slip out of the back doors. Please, I just feel a little under the weather, and I don’t feel like I’m in a good place to talk to people tonight,” you beg as you feel tears start to pool. 

You are trying so hard not to cry in front of this poor girl, but you will if it means she feels bad for you. Luckily for you, that wouldn’t be necessary. 

“Of course, ma’am. I have the phone number you gave us for emergencies, and the moment I manage to lead them away, I’ll text you. Do you have any recommendations for getting them out of the backstage area?” she asks.

You think. You must be clever because Blitz has already experienced your disappearing act once. 

“Tell them I typically go out to watch the show by the bar, and they should wait for me there. Tell them that drinks are on me,” you whisper, unsure of yourself. 

She nods, and she smiles sympathetically. 

“Good luck,” she says as she walks out. 

Now, all you had to do was wait. Would they buy it? More importantly, would Blitz buy it? You wouldn’t be surprised if he suddenly knocked on your dressing room door. 

What would you even say? Sorry for running? You weren’t. If you would have stayed, you would have been stuck there for the rest of your life. But on the other hand, you would have had your friends. You look down at your locket and open it to look at your young friends before closing it again. You look at yourself in the mirror. No. You wouldn’t have had them. They would have moved on without you. 

You notice that you must have still had some mascara on since there was a barely visible trail going down your cheeks from the few tears that escaped. You go to grab tissues to wipe them off when you get a text from Emmie.

Maybe: Emmie

EMERGENCY! YOU NEED TO LEAVE NOW!

ONLY HAVE MINUTE!

EMMIE BTW!

You stare at your phone in horror, decide not to question her, grab your bag, and immediately take off. You exit your dressing room and beeline to the backdoor exit. You see Emmie standing by, holding the door open. What a saint. You speed walk, and she looks slightly panicked as you reach her.

“No time to explain, just go,” she rushes out.

You didn’t have to be told twice. You nod, and you exit the club. You hear her close the door behind you and take in your surroundings. You are currently in an alleyway, which is slightly terrifying. You turn your head to the right and see one of the bouncers smoking. He watches you, giving you a nod, which you return. You begin walking to your left to get to the front of the building. The line to get in has gone down, but some people are outside. Some of them had too much to drink. 

You begin walking back to your apartment. You should have brought your car tonight. The streets are lit up, but you feel you're being followed. You glance across the street to the reflection in the windows and see someone a couple of feet behind you. Not the prince or Blitz. You feel chills run down your entire body. This couldn’t happen again.

“How did this even happen,” Fizz whispers as he hugs you, trying to calm you down while Blitzo tries his hardest to clean your wounds.

It was late at night, and none of you should have been up. You would get a good yelling at if you were caught being up. 

“I- I- They were following me for a while, and they pushed me when I was in their way,” you cry as you try to stop the body-wracking sobs.  

“Why would you go out by yourself in the first place,” Fizz hugs you tighter as you cringe away from Blitzo’s hands.

“You guys left without me. You said we would go get pizza together after the show.”

You look up at Fizz and Blitzo, who share a look. 

“Papa said you were feeling sick,” Blitzo whispers. 

They both look down at you as you start crying harder—such big emotions for your tiny body. Blitzo moves to put bandages on your cuts. It wasn’t even the fact that you were left behind. It was the day as well. 

“I finally,” you hiccup. “I finally reached ten years like you two, and it’s no fun,” you whisper as you feel yourself calming down again. 

Fizz and Blitzo look at each other again.

“Next time, you won’t be alone, okay,” Blitzo assures you as he takes your hand. 

“We’re sorry,” Fizz says, moving his hands over your eyes. “We still got you something.”

Your hear movement, and your tail moves excitedly, causing Fizz to giggle. You feel someone’s presence before you, and Fizz moves his hands from your eyes. 

“Happy Birthday,” Fizz and Blitzo silently yell. 

In front of you is a pizza in the rough shape of a heart. The pepperonis spell out ‘Happy Brithda.’ You giggle as you notice the misspelling. 

“Blitzo was in charge of the words. I chose the shape,” FIzz explains with a slight blush on his face. 

You take the pizza box from Blitzo before closing it and setting it to the side. Blitzo’s smile drops, and Fizz looks sad. 

“Didn’t you like it,” Blitzo mumbles. 

“Of course, silly. I just needed to put the box down to do this,” you say as you throw yourself at both boys, wrapping your arms around them. You all giggle as you nearly make them fall backward. 

“Alright, alright, what’s your birthday wish,” Blitzo asks excitedly while pushing you back. 

“I can’t say it out loud, or it won’t come true. I heard a sinner say that,” you exclaim as you mime a zipper over your mouth.

“It’s not the same rule for us,” Blitzo argues.  

“How do you know that Blitzo?” Fizz asks.

“Because I know things.”

You and Fizz share a look before looking back at Blitzo, who was waiting expectantly.

“Fine, Blitzo. I wish we’d be friends forever,” you said while pointing your tongue at him. 

“Boring. I would wish for my own tent so I don’t have to share anymore.”

“Blitzo, that’s mean. I think your wish is good,” Fizz beams at you. 

“I think so too,” you whisper as you all continue talking the night away.

Maybe the sinner was right. It was bad luck to say your wishes out loud. You start walking a bit faster when you hear the steps getting closer. You are so close to your apartment, but you know you can’t exactly run towards it for safety reasons. Maybe you are being paranoid, and this stranger is just walking in the same direction that you are. You remember that a coffee shop is open 24/7 across the street from your apartment, and you decide that maybe waiting there would be the wiser option. 

You cross the street since the coffee shop is on the other side and hear the same steps follow. So much for walking in the same direction. You had to guarantee your safety one way or another. You decide to fake a phone call with someone meeting you. 

“Oh,” you exclaim loudly as you continue walking as if you got a call you weren’t expecting. 

“Hey! I’m almost at the coffee shop. Are you there already?” you beam into your phone.

You realize how fucked you would be if you got a real call. 

“Perfect! I’ll be there in a few, love,” you say as you pretend to hang up. 

You strain your ears to hear the footsteps, and you nearly take off in a sprint when you hear them closer than before. Okay, a phone call was a bad idea. You prepare yourself to run when you feel someone roughly grab your hand, jerking you backward into a chest.

“I think you’re going to be late for your little date,” the stranger growls into your ear.

You feel fear creeping up and paralyzing you to the spot. This was definitely a lot worse than getting pushed to the floor by a couple of assholes. 

“Aww, cat got your tongue? It didn’t seem that way back in the club,” he hisses at you.

You raise your eyebrow as you look back at him, and you immediately recognize him as the guy who tipped you and looked at you like a piece of meat when you winked at him. Well, crap. 

“Look, man, I don’t want any trouble,” you plead as he chuckles.

“Oh, that’s perfect.”

You need to find a way to escape. You try to think, but your brain goes empty. This day has been a fucking nightmare. You suddenly feel his filthy hand over your mouth, and he starts dragging you towards a darkened alley. Tears begin to prick your eyes, and you try to yell. 

“Shut the fuck up, you bitch. No one is going to save you,” he growls as he digs his nails into your skin. 

Your muffled sound of pain is not loud enough for anyone to hear. No one is going to save you. You have to save yourself. With all the strength you can muster, you elbow him in the guts, which causes him to loosen his grip on you. You immediately push out of his arms and run across the street. You debate calling out for help, but this is Hell. You are risking putting yourself in more danger if you scream for help. At this point, the club might be the safest place for you. 

You continue running, and you pass your apartment building. You desperately want to run in but know it won’t end well. You are halfway to the club when the stranger tosses himself at you, causing you to fall forward.

“What the fuck,” you yell as you feel your knees scrape roughly on the sidewalk. 

This was familiar. The stranger lands next to you, so you roll away from him before trying to stand. However, he is quick on his feet this time and slams your body into the wall next to you. Your head hits the wall, and your vision blurs. You feel a searing pain in your side as you realize he must have had a knife on him. 

“Mother fucker,” you cry out as you try to stand, but you’re so disoriented. 

You slip down the wall as your tears start falling. You want to run. You want to go home. You feel yourself growing weaker. You almost don’t notice the lack of action coming from your attacker. Maybe he was trying to catch his breath. You should use this moment to run. You try to stand weakly from your spot on the floor when you feel a soft hand on your shoulder. 

“Hold on, darling. You’re badly hurt. It’s okay, you’re safe, but I wouldn’t recommend standing,” you hear from your side. You turn to look at who is beside you, only to be met with Prince Stolas. You watch him look away at something behind you, and his eyes hold anger. You see his mouth moving, but everything is spinning. 

“Prince Stolas,” you weakly beg. “I just want to go home. I’m so tired.”

He looks down at you, and his gaze softens. He brings you closer as he strokes your hair. 

“It’s alright, just stay awake for me,” he whispers. 

“I can’t,” you cry as your eyes get heavier. 

You start seeing black spots in the corner of your eyesight. You’re definitely going to pass out. The last thing you feel before your vision becomes dark is someone grabbing your hand tightly.

Songs mentioned: Diamonds Are A Girl's Best Friend, sung by Marilyn Monroe, and I Want To Be Evil, sung by Eartha Kitt.

See you all in the next chapter (which may or may not already be written)!

[moeitsu]

♡The Tie Which Linked My Soul To Thee♡

(Arthur Morgan x OC) Masterlist

Hey cowboys!

Below is where you'll find all the chapters to my Red Dead Redemption fanfic, I will keep it updated as I continue to post more chapters. But in the meantime, I wanted to make things a little more organized and easier for you to navigate.

Whether you just started reading, or if you've been keeping up with the story since the beginning. I want to thank you! This started as a little side project to keep me busy during my down time at work, but it's turned into something I'm really passionate and proud of! So thank you for all the support <3

!!Please be aware this fic is explicit. As it contains blood/violence, as well as other adult themes!!

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->-> Ao3 

->-> Wattpad

Summary: Kate McCanon, a young widow from the north, meets outlaw Arthur Morgan. When the two cross paths she discovers a complex man wrestling with his own sense of right and wrong. As their unlikely bond deepens, Kate becomes determined to guide Arthur towards a brighter path, even as tensions rise within his gang led by the enigmatic Dutch van der Linde. With danger lurking at every turn, Kate must navigate treacherous territory to protect those she holds dear, all while finding love in the most unexpected of places.

Story Tags: Widowed, Original Character(s), High-Honor!Arthur Morgan, Arthur Morgan Does Not Have Tuberculosis, Arthur Morgan Deserves Happiness, Chubby!Arthur Morgan, Canon Divergence, Mutual Pining, Slow Build, Eventual Smut, Eventual Sex, Eventual Romance, Emotional Sex, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Touch-Starved, Sexual Tension, Friends to Lovers, Child Loss, Infant Death, Trauma, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Torture, Blood and Violence, Survivor Guilt, Aftermath of Torture, Caretaking, Injury Recovery, Period-Typical Racism, Anxiety, Self-Hatred, Night Terrors, Emotional Constipation, Self-Doubt, Men Crying, Bathing/Washing, Sweet/Hot, Romantic Angst, Romantic Fluff

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Ch 1 - The Years Creep Slowly By Kate becomes entangled in a heist with two strangers, Hosea and Arthur, forging an unexpected bond amidst their criminal endeavor. Ch 2 - The Snow Is On The Grass Again A fisher of men and A strange encounter. Ch 3 - The Suns Low Down The Sky Welcome to Horseshoe Overlook Ch 4 - The Frost Gleams Where The Flowers Have Been It's time to collect a debt. Ch 5 - My Heart Beats On As Warmly Now A well deserved hunt with Charles, met with an unexpected surprise back at camp... Ch 6 - As When The Summer Days Were Nigh The battle begins, and the past is revealed. Ch 7 - The Sun Can Never Dip So Low Kate is not immune to the dangers of the land. No matter how much she loved it, the land will never love her back. Ch 8 - Or Down Affections Cloudless Sky A blissful sunny day after a long hard night. Ch 9 - A Hundred Months Have Passed Kate and Arthur share a tender moment in the quiet of the night. Ch 10 - Since Last I Held That Hand In Mine The Course of True Love and other Revelations Ch 11 - And Felt The Pulse Beat Fast Arthur and Hosea share meaningful conversation after a night of advertising some moonshine. Meanwhile Kate finds herself involved in a dubious mission with John and the boys. She patches up Arthur as the day ends with an air of unspoken desire. Ch 12 - Though Mine Beat Faster Far Than Thine - Part 1 Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called sons of God in a world that is ugly with violence and hate. Ch 13 - Though Mine Beat Faster Far Than Thine - Part 2 Arthur’s life is ebbing out like the tide. Kate must work quickly and diligently to reverse the cruel hands of fate. She is aided by the help of an unexpected ally. Ch 14 - A Hundred Months ‘Twas Flowery May As Kate navigates Arthur’s recovery, she discovers that true strength lies within her trusted companions, finding relief in their unwavering support during the trials of his healing journey. Ch 15 - When Up The Hilly Slope We Climbed Arthur struggles to adjust to his new disabilities. Meanwhile Kate finds a job outside of camp for them, providing a few days respite and some much needed alone time. Arthur finally reveals his feelings. Ch 16 - The Past Is The Eternal Past Kate and Arthur welcome a new life into the world. The scene brings back tender memories of Arthur's past, he finally finds the courage to open up to her about his family. Ch 17 - To Watch The Dying of The Day Say, isn't it strange? I am still me, and you are still you. In this place. Isn't it strange how people can change? From strangers to friends, friends into lovers. To strangers again. Ch 18 - To Hear the Distant Church Bells Chime The gang finds a new hideout at Shady Belle, just outside the heart of the new modern America. With Jack still missing, Kate and Arthur must work together to find him. Amidst the tension, Arthur confides in Kate about his deepest regrets. Ch 19 - We Loved Each Other Then The Gilded Cage. Kate and Arthur attend an exclusive garden party hosted by the Mayor of Saint Denis. As the night progresses, their mutual desire intensifies.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━ If you're interested in reading about my OC, I linked the Kate McCanon Lore here :) As well as her Face and Voice Claim here <3 About me!

[thescholarlystrumpet]

Slow burn Human AU Priest Aziraphale x Crowley (set in WW2). Complete and posting 1-2x weekly.

For Loving One- Rated Explicit

Father Fell has been living a quiet life in a small parish. Despite the looming fear of war, he thought he was content with his small pleasures. Until a mysterious stranger comes to town, turning that life on its head and awakening desires the Father thought he buried long, long ago...

Chapter one

It was quite late and Father Fell was sweeping in the chapel when there was a thudding sound. He looked up in alarm only to find a long, thin man standing in front of the entrance. 

Standing was a relative term in this case. The strange man was leaning to one side, seeming to favor his left leg. He wore dusty clothes of nondescript color, ragged looking, and a cap pulled low over a short, unkempt reddish beard. 

“May I be of assistance, my good Sir?” Father Fell asked gently, holding tight to the broom just in case it was needed for safety. It was not common to encounter anyone out of doors this late, especially not since the War started. 

The man limped toward him and made a hoarse sound, either a cough or a clearing of the throat. He shook his head and even that slight movement set him even more off balance. As the stranger careened toward the nearest pew, Father Fell dropped his broom and ran toward him. 

The priest was just barely in time to catch the stranger from what might have been a nasty bash to the head. Instead, Father Fell pulled him sideways and they both landed on the carpeted floor with a forced exhale. 

Keep reading on AO3

**** *** **

Anyone who knows me has probably heard me talk about this fic. It has been a labor of love and occasional tears. I’m overjoyed to finally be sharing it with all of you!!

@goodomensafterdark @fuckyeahgoodomens

[dual-cetacean]

"The Shatterverse is saved, the prism shards are back where they belong, and Green Hill Zone is restored. However, Nine cannot let go. Afraid the Roses and Shadow won’t be fast enough to save Sonic, they chase after them — accidentally flying into the gateway, too. Now locked out of their universe, and more importantly, the Grim, what is a lonely number 9 supposed to do?"

*Edit*

Chapter log

Season 1

Situation 1: So much (for) Prism dust (↑) Situation 2: I’m your best friend, I’m your family. Situation 3: Tea and Toast. Situation 4: Lonely Heart's Club. Situation 5: Stranger in a Strange Land. Situation 6: I hope, pray, wish—you bite your tongue Situation 7: Capital T, but Trouble looks for me Situation 8: Star-Crossed Siblings

Season 2

In production.

Heyo! I know that this series ended months ago, but this cartoon has me in a head grip. This has been cooking since February, and I'm finally ready to post it after two full months of working on it. I enjoyed season 3 and the rest of the series but was unsatisfied with the ending. So, for everyone like me who wants more out of the story, I hope you enjoy this, especially for the ones whose favourite character is Nine, like me. Plenty of other characters will also appear in it, but for now, it Nine centric.

I am incredibly proud of the cover art I made and put a lot of effort into it. Making all those renders for the characters was a serious undertaking, but it looks great, and I had a lot of fun figuring out how to paint foam and water.

I also made a playlist for this fic so if you're looking for fitting music, here it is! (Current and future chapter titles are also inspired by these songs)

The cover ver without the other characters in the water is under keep reading

[amica-aenigmata-naboo]

Aeterna Amantes

Astarion x Y/N - Chapter 1 - 1.4K WC

chapter 1 (you are here!)

chapter 2

chapter 3

chapter 4 NSFW 18+

chapter 5

Masterlist

Warnings: mention of nudity (not sexualized), innocent reader, frankenstein like plot, arcane tower, Bernard, Soft Astarion and Karlach, Gale featured!, fluffffffffffff

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The lock finally clicked in place, Astarion ripped it away from the door, irritated it took him three tries to get it to cooperate. He ventured into the basement of the Arcane Tower. He was cautious as he picked up random things he considered worth taking. The others were slowly following behind him, still conversing with Bernard. A coffin surrounded by beams of electricity sat in the middle of the basement. Odd, he thought. He pulled the lever on the far wall, deciding he wanted to see what would happen. The beams intensified before they flickered and died out along with the rest of the electricity in the whole tower. The coffin door creaked, sounding as if something was trapped inside. The others finally made their way into the basement, everyone's eyes instantly flicked to him with his hand on the lever before they flicked to the coffin with little bumps sounding from within. 

Karlach rolled her eyes before walking over to the coffin, prying the heavy lid open. Your eyes shot open. You sat up slowly, taking in your surroundings. Your golden irises were captivating and striking against the dim lighting of the room, almost as if they were glowing. You slowly climbed out of the coffin on wobbly legs. Gale averted his eyes due to your very naked form. Bernard made his way to you, shielding your body in a simple robe. Astarion’s eyes took you in, he noticed how you were covered in scars. At every junction - wrists, elbows, neck, knees, etc. scars existed. All of them showing how you had been stitched together. 

“What are they?” he asked as he made his way over to the group.

“A prototype.” Bernard said mechanically. 

“Fascinating!” Gale said once he knew you were covered completely. “But a prototype for what?” 

“A living companion for Lenore.” he stated as he finished furnishing you with appropriate clothing. 

You had the complexion of a drow but your skin tone differed depending on what part of you he was looking at. All shades of cool blues. Your eyes looked at everyone, you walked up to Gale.

“Uhhh, hello?” he said as you touched his clothes and hair, smiling to yourself when you flicked his ear ring.

Karlach laughed until you turned your attention to her, you walked to her softly. You reached up to her horns tugging on them slightly. She giggled at your child like curiosity, bending down slightly for you to inspect them. 

Astarion watched with an annoyed face, this was a waste of time. 

When your eyes saw Karlach’s broken horn your face fell into a sad frown. You stood on your tiptoes and kissed her broken horn. You smiled at her gently, her face was shocked but turned into a smile. Nobody had ever been so gentle with her, it made heat envelop her. 

Finally your eyes landed on Astarion, you walked to him toggling your head back and forth as you inspected him. 

“They have not met anyone besides Lenore.” Bernard spoke, explaining your somewhat strange actions. 

You raised a hand to touch Astarion’s chest, he grabbed your wrist harshly. “No.” 

You pulled your hand to your chest, rubbing your wrist. Your lip quivered as you backed away from him. Astarion felt a small pang in his chest, he didn’t mean to scare you but he was not willing to be touched by a stranger. You moved to hide behind Karlach, glancing at him every once and a while with a wary gaze. 

“Will they be safe without Lenore?” Karlach asked. 

Bernard did not answer, he just stared at you, analyzing you. 

You slipped your hand into Karlach’s, your eyes flicking back and forth between her and the exit. She squeezed your hand and began walking with you to the main floor. Everyone followed. As Karlach began walking out the gates with you Bernard gripped your arm.

“They cannot leave,” he said.

You whined, reaching for Karlach. The desperation in your eyes was something Astarion knew all too well. 

“They aren’t leaving, simply walking to the garden. Are you sure you aren’t malfunctioning?” Karlach said deceptively. 

Bernard released his grip on you, “Analyzing. I will return once I have been recalibrated.” 

You clung to Karlach, following her out of the tower for good. Your eyes explored the marvelous world of the Underdark. You had never left that basement, all of this was fascinating and overwhelming. With a flick of his hand Gale opened a portal. You were hesitant to cross the threshold but with a small beckon from Karlach you followed. No turning back now.

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

You gazed at the fire, inching closer to it. The dancing orange flames entranced you, your hand reached out to touch it until a soft hand stopped you. 

“Careful soldier, don’t want you to get burned. Try this.” Karlach said as she put both her palms towards the fire but held them a safe distance away, just enough to warm them. You copied her actions, giggling slightly when you felt the warmth spread from your hands to your arms. 

Astarion watched you with a small smirk. You were the most innocent thing he had ever seen, it was endearing. He noticed the thin layer of dirt and sweat covering you. “I think they need a wash?” he said to Karlach. 

“Do you think you could manage that while I get supper on?” she asked as she sorted through her ingredients. 

Astarion gazed at you before looking at the hot springs in the cave not far off from camp. “I suppose.” he said with a shrug, trying to appear indifferent.

He walked over to you, holding his hand out to you. You followed him without hesitation. Once at the springs Astarion looked at you expectantly, “Well? Go on, take your clothes off and get in.” he said motioning to the pool of steaming water. 

You took your clothes off like he requested before sitting on the very edge of the pool. You tapped the water with your hand, sucking in a sharp breath as you watched the ripples. Astarion’s eyes widened at you, had you never seen or felt water before? He dipped his hand into the water, cupping some before he brought it to your hand. He held it flat, he smiled at you before letting the water from his hand trickle over yours. You gasped before giving him a beaming smile. You slowly made your way into the shallow pool, sighing with relief as you submerged yourself. Your hair clung to you. You watched the dirt slip off you as you scrubbed your arms and legs. 

Astarion sat on the edge of the pool, keeping an eye on you. “Can you talk?” he asked quietly.

You quirked your head at him, unsure of what he was asking. “Do you at least have a name?” he said.

Your face remained confused before he took your hand and placed it against his chest, “Astarion.” he said before moving your hand to your chest. 

You looked between the two of you repeatedly, trying to figure out a response. “Y/N” you mumbled. 

Astarion’s face lit up when he realized you could speak and understand him. Your voice was like honey to him. Soft and sweet. “Y/N” he repeated, liking the way your name felt on his tongue. 

“Astarion.” you said as you placed your hand back on his chest. 

He smiled down at you, “Yes, very good.” he gently pulled your hand away before turning you around in the hot spring and washing your hair. You sighed every now and then, liking the way he touched you. You had never had human contact, it felt strange but good. 

“Would you like to learn how to read? To talk?” he asked as he finished scrubbing the last of the muck off your body. 

You sat and soaked, enjoying the warmth. You nodded at him with a kind smile. 

“We can start tomorrow,” he said.

You let out a long yawn, your eyes drooping. 

“Let's get you some food and then off to bed with you.” he said as he helped you out of the spring before wrapping you in a towel. 

You leaned against him unexpectedly, nuzzling his chest softly. “Astarion.” you said sleepily. 

His heart was melting, it was an unfamiliar sensation. It terrified him but he also felt safe somehow. He smiled, trying to shake the feeling while fighting the urge to relish in it.

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

Naboo's Note:

AHHHHHHH!!! So excited to start a new series! I've been coming up with this idea for a hot minute so I really hope everyone enjoys it! I will be trying to post this one regularly while also posting drabbles so please be patient and a little gracious with production as I also work so everything is a bit hectic. Thank you all for your love and support!!! It means the world!!!!!! XOXOXXOOXXOOXOXOXOOXOXOXOOX

[separatist-apologist]

Burning Red

Summary: When Arina is brought with her father to Velaris, she sees an opportunity to escape the marriage she's desperate to avoid. She wants a smaller life- a simpler life.

One that doesn't involve a dragon.

For @erisweekofficial

Part Five of the Dragons Series | Chapter 1 | Read on AO3 | Wonderland | A Mythical Thing | A Fragile Little Flame | Amber Skies

-

Running away should have been simple. Vanish into the woods, change her name, find a job and a cottage and settle down far, far away from this place. It had never involved a dragon trailing after her, fighting off a hoard of wolves and then passing out in a mountain valley far from where they’d started.

Arina hovered over his large, orange scaled form and wondered what she was supposed to do. Did she leave him? She could have—it seemed like the only logical solution. It was night…and he’d saved her life. Arina felt a strange, yawning pull that urged her to stay.

Her indecision cost her. A furious roaring shook the valley, causing Eris to thrash his tail for a moment, as if he knew there was another dragon nearby and he needed to do something, but his injuries were too much. 

Arina didn’t move, frozen with fear as a great, golden creature sailed overhead, trumpeting its rage at the intrusion. The thing landed a few yards away with enough force to shake the ground beneath them. She tumbled backward, falling against warm scales before she righted herself. The armored plating was sharp—she cut her palm in the process.

Tears pricked against the corners of her eyes, though Arina stood her ground as the beast came toward her.

“Lucien!” A woman’s voice sliced through the night, stopping the creature in its tracks. Arina could have wept, knees shaking, at the sight of a beautiful brunette stomping down the hill, hands on her aproned hips. 

A moment later, a very naked man stood in place of the monster, gesturing between Arina and Eris and himself. “They encroach!”

“Are you here to kill me?” the woman asked, an amused note in her voice as she quickly untied her apron. She shoved it against him, barefoot in the sparkling grass. Arina didn’t know where to look—she didn’t want to see this naked man, even as he tied the pink and white lace apron around his body with a deep frown, the half-dead dragon behind her, or the woman herself the aforementioned man seemed to be guarding. 

“No?” Arina asked, as the man huffed out a see?! “We didn’t mean to land in this place.”

“See,” the woman murmured, touching the man’s arm gently. “No one is here to harm me.”

“Could you not scent our presence?” the dragon, named Lucien, demanded.

Arina turned to the woman, who only shrugged her shoulders in response. “Of course I can’t!”

Her words were half hysterical. She felt hysterical, truthfully. Unlike Lucien, who very obviously wanted her to rouse Eris and leave, the woman came forward with sympathy etched across her features.

“Are you well?” she murmured, brown eyes radiating warmth.

“I was trying to get away from overbearing men,” Arina whispered, voice trembling as she swallowed her tears. “And I’m back where I started, but with these…these…creatures—”

Lucien snorted softly, parading past them to look at Eris. 

“Come inside—”

“Inside?” Lucien scoffed, clearly riddled with disbelief. “Where we live?”

“Yes, Lucien,” she replied with saintly patience. “A little hospitality won’t hurt us.”

“He might—”

“I don’t think he’s interested in me,” she said with an easy smile, clearly amused. Arina wasn’t, though. The whole thing seemed like a strange hostage situation. Still, Arina had no choice but to follow the woman—who quickly let her know that her name was Elain—up the hill to the house. She didn’t know what prompted her to tell Lucien, the dragon-man, not to hurt Eris. Eris was her only ally at the moment, even if he was incapacitated, and she’d take him over the strangers living in the valley.

At least Eris had demonstrated he didn’t want her to die. Lucien couldn’t boast the same. Arina didn’t believe for a second he wouldn’t kill her if he thought he needed to, nor did she think this woman would be particularly upset with him should it happen.

Elain hummed to herself as they trekked up the hillside, clearly unconcerned about the rising tension. Did she feel it, or did simply not care? Arina was forced to conclude it was the latter, and that in some way, this was a usual occurrence for her. 

Inside, Elain found someone's home. Childrens toys lay scattered across a brightly colored rug, causing Arina to trip when she stumbled over a painted yellow, wooden duck. 

“Careful,” Elain said cheerfully, making her way into a small kitchen. A loaf of bread sat on a floral tea towel, steam rising from the crusty top. The windowsill was pushed open, revealing a pretty latticed pie cooling on the ledge. There were flowers on a little, rounded table and more plants in large, painted pots in the living room beyond. It was cozy.

Lived in.

“You have children?” Arina gaped, setting the wooden toy on the nearby table as Elain began to busy herself with food.

Her smile was soft. “One. Another on the way.”

“With…with him?” Arina demanded, because surely not. Even with the golden band wrapped around Elain’s throat, effectively marking her, Arina simply could not believe this was her chosen, simple life. He’d kidnapped her, if Arina had to guess. Forced himself on her, and she’d merely learned to make the best of a difficult situation.

“Who else?” Elain replied, her gaze sharpening ever so slightly. It didn’t help that she held a long knife in her hand that Arina didn’t doubt she’d use. 

“When did you meet him?” Elain asked with more curiosity than was perhaps polite.

“This morning?” Arina replied. The day felt like several years had passed, and somehow she felt as if she’d known Eris far longer than she had. “I was trying to get away from men.”

Elain’s smile was soft. Knowing. “Funny, how it works out.”

“Is it funny?” Arina demanded, whirling so quickly that Elain’s knife clattered to the floor between them. “To trade one life shackled to a cruel master for another?”

“Is that what he’s promised you?” Elain asked, not taking the bait. Arina wanted a fight so badly that she’d pick it with a near stranger if she could. 

“He didn’t make me any promises,” Arina admitted.

“What happened to him?”

Arina explained as Lucien returned, still wearing the floral apron that didn’t hide his backside at all. Without staring as he meandered his way through the home, picking up items on the floor while generally keeping watch. It felt very much like a polite warning—she was allowed because Elain willed it, but should she change her mind, he would be the one to enforce it.

“He smells…familiar,” Lucien told Elain once Arina concluded her story. He’d taken up residence in a chair at the table, which had caused Elain to make a second plate of food. She set it before him only for Lucien to shove it toward her while Arina picked at grilled chicken smothered in a garlic sauce. 

“Familiar how?” Elain questioned, cocking her head so curls spilled down her shoulder. Elain hadn’t realized she was pregnant until she tried to sit, smoothing her dress over a small, rounded stomach that had just begun to take shape. 

“Like my mother,” he finally said, exchanging a significant look between himself and his…wife? Kidnapped bride? None of that meant anything to Arina.

“Is he going to die?”

Lucien exhaled loudly. “No. It would be difficult to kill him. He’s simply injured.”

“Then we’ll leave as soon as he’s well,” Arina declared, suddenly wary of these two. Like my mother. Arina didn’t want to get caught up in a family affair. She intended to get Eris and herself away from these people before politely asking him to drop her off somewhere safe and go about his life without her. 

The look exchanged between dragon and woman didn’t give Arina any confidence they’d allow it. She needed to be on guard and careful. Arina ate despite her nervous stomach, making polite small talk before accepting blankets for the couch in the living room.

She waited until the candles were extinguished and the sound of footsteps on the creaking wood overhead had silenced before she grabbed two of the nicer blankets and slipped out. She didn’t trust either Elain or Lucien to let them go or not to immediately send her back.

Strange, though, that she trusted Eris. 

He still laid on the sandy beach of the lake, tail curled around his body as little tendrils of smoke escaped his nose with each breath. Arina pressed her palm against the soft snout, relieved when one gold eye peeked open.

He huffed in response, stretching his injured wing in an attempt to shield her from the cold. Arina held up the blankets as both his eyes opened, round and wide with surprise.

“This belongs to another dragon and his kidnapped…wife?” she whispered urgently, noting Eris’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “They say you smell familiar but I don’t trust them. I think we need to leave.”

The exhaustion on his face told her he didn’t want to. He huffed again before shifting, bones creaking from the effort. Where once a massive creature had lain, now a very naked man replaced it, curled in the dirt.

Arina dropped a blanket over his body. She didn’t want to see what he looked like naked, afraid some part of her might like it.

“We?” he questioned. 

“You can stay if you want,” she replied, stomach clenching at the thought. “But I’m leaving before they wake up.”

Eris forced himself to his feet, blanket falling gracefully to the ground. His body was a mass of toned muscle and broad shoulders, ribboned in glittering orange scales that gleamed in the waning moonlight. Arina tried—and failed—not to look any lower. He wasn’t erect, at least, but the largeness of him alarmed her.

Her eyes flew back to his face. The creature was too exhausted to have any smugness to him, holding out his hand for the other blanket draped over her arm. She thought he wanted it, but Eris merely staggered forward to bunch it over her shoulders.

“We’ll fly until I can’t,” he said, voice close to a whisper. “And then we sleep.”

“Fine.”

Once he was well, she’d leave him. Gripping her chin beneath cool fingers, Eris forced her to look at him. He didn’t say a word, amber eyes searching her own as if looking for something he’d missed. Arina pulled from his grasp, frustrated he was touching her. 

Eris exhaled. Had he found what he was looking for? She hoped not. The last thing she needed was a duel between the fiance she’d escaped and the dragon now re-standing before her. Eris bowed his neck, allowing her to clamber up the smooth scales. There was little for purchase, though once he righted himself, she realized she wasn’t really in danger of falling.

He took to the skies, glancing her way only once. No one came to chase them.

They were safe.

ERIS:

He wanted to die.

Every inch of his body screamed for rest, begging him to land on the ground where he could close his eyes and allow his dragons blood to heal the wounds rapidly reopening with each flap of his wings. His mate wanted to leave, believing they were in danger of another dragon. Eris wouldn’t have told her no, but the thought of another male sniffing around make him anxious.

He was injured—it would be easy for another dragon to lay claim to her and snatch her up before he could do a thing about it. 

So he flew through the night, gritting his teeth until blood flooded his mouth, looking for anywhere he could safely set her down. Somewhere she couldn’t escape, though he knew that was wrong, too. He had no right to hold her hostage and force her to accept him.

But she didn’t know him, either, and was convinced he was a creature he wasn’t. When he fell into a healing slumber, he didn’t want her to run off and be recaptured. Or worse, harmed, because she wouldn’t listen to sense of reason.

The problem was how few places there were to truly go. Behind him lay Velaris and the vast kingdom belonging to Rhys. To the east, Windhaven and the home of the eastern Dragons which lay in the hands of Cassian. If Rhys demanded Cassian hand Arina over, Cassian would do it. 

His own territory was further to the west, over a vast ocean Eris wasn’t convinced he could cross without dying. 

Eris was going to try. To have her safe in his own territory, assured that the only person who could order her back was him, was enough to keep him going even when his mouth dried out and his muscles began to fail him. He kept her scared face forefront in his mind, calling it up ever time he dipped over the glittering water. He didn’t know if she could swim. 

There were other dragons.

She was beautiful.

Eris spied the trees before he saw the shoreline. Despite being so west, his territory was temperate, the weather mild all year round. He knew the water would be unpleasant should they be close, the wind practically unbearable by then. He had an estate up in the forested mountains, miles from his palace. If he could get close, she’d make her way to the home by virtue of needing shelter. There was no one within, no servants stationed when his presence wasn’t required.

And on every side, she’d be surrounded by dense woods, in a place she wasn’t familiar with. He was a bastard—thats what his father used to say before he vanished. 

They say you smell familiar.

Eris banished the thought. If his father had sired others, well…that wasn’t his business. Not anymore. As a youngling, freshly made a king before he had hair on his face, Eris had gone looking. Had scoured the lands trying to find out where his father had taken their mother. His father was older, cleverer. And then, of course, the waves of humans had descended, destroying the females and children with such ferocity that Eris could think of nothing else. Unlike so many other territories, he’d managed to stave off the worst of the violence, losing more males than anything else. 

Someone had warned the humans where dragons were vulnerable. Eris had long wondered if it hadn’t been his father. He was too ashamed to give voice to those fears, worried that if any of the remaining monarchs investigated, they’d find him at fault given Beron, wherever he was, clearly had perished.

Still, the question nagged at the back of his mind even as he began to lull to the side, unable to keep himself steady. They were close enough, he reasoned. A ten minute walk if she didn’t linger and moved in a straight line through the thinning trees. He wanted to warn her where to go, alongside the dangers of the forest should she venture too far, but he couldn’t speak in this form. 

Eris tumbled to the ground gracelessly, dragging fallen leaves up like clouds of dust. Arina screamed, the sound arousing the baser instincts that demanded he protect his mate. One wing flung out in a misguided attempt to protect her from the danger, though he was the danger. Still, she was uninjured when he slowed, though clearly just as exhausted.

“Where have you taken us?” she breathed, smoothing out her rumpled, dirty skirt. Eris wanted to tell her. He simply could not bring himself to do so. Every inch of him hurt, wounded and injured from keeping her alive.

Don’t leave me, he wanted to say. Everyone does. 

She was already walking away as he thought it, and the last thing he saw before the darkness reclaimed him, was her retreating back in the forest. 

Leaving him.

As everyone always did. 

—

Arina didn’t know what to do for a dying monster. Panic had settled into her bone, especially as the air took on a distinct dusky chill. Did she traverse the forest looking for help? Was there even help? She’d been so sure he knew where he was going until his body lurched, landing them in a sloping mountain covered in dense, brightly colored treetops. 

It excited her and it frightened her. She knew, by virtue of crossing a dark sea, that she was so far from her fathers reach that he may never find her. And still she warred with herself, until Arina decided that she would stay, at least until he died.

She didn’t know how to tell what a dragon needed. As night approached, Arina merely curled close to his body, delighted that, even as he died, he radiated an incredible amont of heat. She still had the blankets they’d taken from Lucien and Elain. She placed one around her body, creating a little bag that kept her body off the leaves while still covered, and the other around his neck. Did dragons get cold?

Arina wasn’t sure. 

It should have been terrifying. For a few moments, when pure darkness settled around them and the noises of the nightlife began to echo, she had been nervous. But she learned, quickly, that nothing dared to get too close to the predator napping in the woods. She’d always wondered what freedom might feel like.

Arina’s home had been warmer than this place, sandier and hillier with few trees to truly speak of. She’d been enarmored with nature as a child, the great tragedy of her lifetime given that she was not allowed beyond the high palace walls without an escort.

She wasn’t allowed within the grounds without an escort, either. There was no napping in the shade or running barefoot through the grass. She was forced to stroll in heavy gowns that caused sweat to slide down her spine while making idle chatter with the ladies who weren’t quite her friends. 

Arina had tried, of course. She’d snuck around until the secret passageways had been boarded up. She’s slipped her chaperones, which only caused more guards to be posted. And eventually, she simply gave up. At every turn, her father was determined to keep her indoors.

Not anymore, she realized as she lay on her back, a massive dragon curled around her. She pressed her fingers against his soft underbelly, wondering when his steady breathing might stutter and then eventually stop.

It was strange, but she’d miss him. 

Arina fell asleep to the soft rustling of animals running underfoot and the feel of cool wind caressing her cheek. Her dreams were sweet, for once, filled with images of those jewel colored treetops and a life running between the sturdy trunks. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, or merely just feeling safe for the first time in living memory.

Or maybe, deep down, she knew Eris wasn’t going to die. Arina woke, sweaty and well rested despite the unforgiving ground beneath her. A heavy wing had draped itself over her, shielding her from a light rain drizzling overhead. She sighed, causing the wing to lift just a little so a familiar amber eye could blink in, obviously curious.

Arina pressed her fingers to Eris’s belly. “Are you okay?” she asked him, well aware he couldn’t answer her in his current form. Still, she pressed against the soft, unplated flesh, earning a woosh of warm air from his nostrils. 

“I’m jealous of that,” she admitted, noting what had once been tender and swollen now seemed wholly healed. He lifted his head, bones snapping before he was the man again.

A very, very naked man.

The water he’d been shielding her from began to slide down her cheek, dampening her hair as she rose gingerly to her feet, trying—and failing once again—not to look between his legs.

“Why are you here?” he asked warily.

“I thought—” she felt strangely stupid all of the sudden.

She tried to keep her eyes on the ground, but his fingers found her chin, lifting her face so she had to look up at him. 

“You thought…?”

“I thought you were dying,” she admitted, wrenching out of his grasp. “I didn’t want you to die alone.”

A strange expression flitted over his handsome face, bringing with it a wash of color. Defensive, Arina decided she didn’t need to say anything else. It was on the tip of her tongue to say something cruel—to demand he not hurt her—but she knew he wouldn’t. If he’d wanted to, he would have by then.

It was clear he was still injured—his skin revealed the healing gashes and bruises that no longer seemed so lethal, though she imagined were still painful. He winced, offering her a hand she didn’t take. He was still naked, after all, and she’d spent her whole life being told to stay away from naked men.

“It’s difficult to kill my kind,” Eris informed her, taking a careful step through the soggy underbrush. 

“Unless they’re female?” she heard herself ask. There was no malice to her words—just curiosity. Why had they done it? 

Eris’s gaze sharpened, nearly ablaze as he turned to look at her. “It was not my kind that slaughtered each other. It was humans, emboldened with knowledge they shouldn’t have, that descended upon us. Who stole sleeping young from their beds and killed their weeping, pleading mothers with impunity.”

“That’s—”

“Its not my kind that forces females into marriages they don’t want…or strikes them across the face when they’re displeased.”

“I don’t think you have the moral high ground. You kidnapped—”

“Kidnapped?” he scoffed, turning abruptly to face her. “You ran straight into wolf infested woods. I rescued you.”

Arina felt foolish, fingers twisting in front of her body to keep herself from breaking down. “This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.” Some of his anger seemed to soften. “How did you imagine it?” he asked curiously. 

Arina shrugged, blinking away the urge to cry. They resumed walking, the trees thinning as they went. That was unfortunate, as the leafy tops overhead kept the worst of the rain from falling on them. By the time the reached the stone laid path leading toward a rather lovely estate, Arina was soaked to the bone. 

“I thought you’d make your way here,” Eris informed her, careful to keep his distance.

Arina opened her mouth to inform him she wasn’t so awful she’d abandon him to die, but shut it before she said a word. Why tell him that? “What is this place?”

“One of my homes,” he informed her, pushing open the wooden doors to let her in. Magnolias lined the path they’d walked along, dotted orange, yellow, and white beneath the gray sky. 

“How many do you have?”

“Three.”

Three? Arina wiped her muddy feet on a mat, dragging puddles of water onto the gleaming wood. The entry way smelled of cedar and woodsmoke and when Eris snapped his fingers, the sconces on the wall ignited with a cheerful intensity. “I thought you were just Eris?”

“I am—to you,” he replied, brushing his knuckles over the back of her arm. 

“You didn’t even know me when you said it,” she reminded him, bristling a little. It was all but an arranged marriage, just with different terms. 

He shrugged. “I wanted to know you. Pick a room,” he added, leading her down the halls. 

“Any room?” she replied.

He nodded, leaving Arina standing alone as he made his way down a separate corridor. She watched him go, eyes trailing down the muscular contours of his back. She was strangely entranced by the shifting muscles beneath his skin. Life would be so much easier if she wasn’t attracted to him, she thought ruefully. 

With Eris fully gone, and Arina safe from the elements, she decided to take him up on his offer. The estate was rather large, though not so big it was possible to get truly lost. She found herself turned around once or twice, walking through the same dining room on three separate occasions.

She found a rather lovely library, smaller than the one in Velaris, though larger than the one that had been housed in her own home. 

Huge, glass windows smeared with rain droplets created a rather moody atmosphere she found rather charming. Arina did settle on a room, mainly because the room, once made of wood and marble, became glass where the bed lay, allowing the person sleeping to stare upward at the sky and outward toward the forest, if they wanted.

It smelled like that same woodsmoke, mingled with cinamon, and something about those two together made her feel safe. Arina pressed her face into the soft, cream colored pillow before flopping on the bed. It was as if she’d summoned him. Eris appeared in the doorway, eyes slightly narrowed.

“This room,” she said, spreading her arms out wide while he leaned against the door. He had pants on, though unlaced and loose on his sculpted hips. 

“Oh?”

It also happened to be the largest in the estate. Arina had considered the implications of it until Eris closed the door with his foot, smug smile on his stupid, handsome face. “You want my bedroom?”

Arina sat up, but it was too late. He was making his way in, arms still crossed over his chest.

“Pick a different room,” she demanded.

“I don’t think I will,” he informed her, eyes sliding toward the rainy glass. 

“How long are you going to let this go on for?” she demanded, sitting up, arms crossed over her chest.

He shrugged. “Ask to go back.”

Arina pressed her lips together. She wasn’t going to do that.

“Ask to leave me.” She opened her mouth that time, but nothing came out. A soft tugging kept her from saying it. Why? When it was a lie? Eris waited, his expression so very carefully neutral.

“That’s when,” he murmured.

Arina looked down at her lap. “You’d let me go if I asked?”

“You’re not my prisoner,” was his soft, almost sad reply. “If you decide to leave me, you’re free to go.”

Arina didn’t move, even as the possibilities raced through her mind. He didn’t say it, but she suspected if she asked him to take her somewhere else, he’d do so. And he’d leave, though she was willing to bet he’d keep watch on her somehow. Just in case. 

“I like it here,” she declared. “And you can stay…but you can’t touch me. And you have to wear pants.”

He scowled. “Anything else?”

She considered it for a second. “You have to answer every question I have honestly.”

“Deal,” he agreed, his annoyance clearly reserved only for the pants. That would help, she thought, if she wasn’t constantly fighting the urge to look at him unclothed. He didn’t need to know that. 

Arina offered him a smile. As long as he upheld his end of things, she’d stay.

And she’d worry about everything else later.

[socially-awkward-skeleton]

Master post

John Price x Fem!OC (Rory Sinclair)

Summary: Sgt. Rory Sinclair with the Special Reconnaissance Regiment of the British army has been called on to assist with a joint US/UK operation. Quickly discovering that her Commanding Officer for the mission is a man she's met before...

This series is set in 2017 before the events of the first MW game

Minors DNI 18+ - Slow burn, eventual smut, canon typical violence, suggestive dialogue, swearing, smoking, human trafficking, torture terrorism, morally grey characters

Chapter 1 - Out of the Frying Pan

Chapter 2 - Stranger in a Strange Land

Chapter 3 - Paint it, Black

Chapter 4 - Witness

Chapter 5 - Hell Broke Loose

Chapter 6 - Wait and Bleed

Chapter 7 - Will and Worry

Chapter 8 - Crave You

Chapter 9 - In For the Kill

Chapter 10 - Even if it Hurts

Chapter 11 - Future Starts Slow

Chapter 12 - Free Animal

Chapter 13 - Rock the Casbah

Chapter 14 - Question of Time

Chapter 15 - Warm Shadow

Chapter 16 - Only Human (smut)

Chapter 17 - Out of the Black

Chapter 18 - Some Unholy War

Playlist

[AO3]

[thechaoticdruid]

Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts (1)

Pairing: Astarion x F!Tav

Plot: Tav and Astarion have been settling in to life in the Underdark, trying their damnedest to find a good lead on the Ring of the Sun Walker when suddenly a distress message from an old friend lands them in a place they certainly did not see coming. An extravagant soiree hosted by a very eccentric stranger!

Content/Warnings: First chapter focuses on Tav and Astarion's life so far. Chubby Tav, Tav uses She/her pronouns, Violence and slight gore, brief nudity, suggestive content, mentions of Astarion's trauma, descriptions of a panic attack, Tav based on my own (human druid) Tav. Possible smut in future chapters. Grammar/spelling mistakes are possible. Ooc moments are possible, slight angst, comfort, fluff.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

The dark cold caverns of the Underdark were definitely not anyone's first vacation destination. They were perilous, full of several bloodthirsty beasts just waiting to tear even the most skilled of adventurers apart.  

“HEY ASSHAT! OVER HERE DUMBASS! LOOK AT MEEEE!” A young human woman shouted, waving her arms around like a complete fool.

She stuck her tongue and blew a raspberry up at a massive figure. A towering green humanoid with multiple limbs and multiple heads, only wearing a loin cloth and what appeared to be a belt made of human skulls. 

The human was short, chubby, dressed in a red cloak embroidered with little wolves on it and druidic armor tucked underneath.  She continued to mock the beast pointing two middle fingers at it. The beast growled and began to charge towards the much smaller human female.

“That's it, dumb fuck! Come to Tav!” The druid smirked, getting into a fighting stance and she looked up above.  A flaming arrow came down fast, hitting the beast in one of its foreheads.

It let out a loud low growl of pain, almost immediately shouting something in its strange native tongue. Tav couldn't for the life of her figure out what it was saying, but she was pretty sure it was far from intelligent.  Tav glanced back towards the origin of the arrow with a smile seeing her ivory haired elven lover perched up upon a high cliff. 

“Excellent aim as always, my Star!” Tav cheered. 

“Hells Teeth Tav! Get out of the way!” Her lover exclaimed. The monster lunged over for Tav, seeming to recover from its wound rather quickly before going in to grab the human female in one of its huge hands, attempting to crush her. 

Tav simply smirked before suddenly changing her shape, taking the form of a large owlbear and sinking her claws into the beast's arm before leaping away, using her wings to glide a good distance between her and the monstrosity.

The elf huffed as he reached back, grabbing for another fire arrow only to realize he had used the last one. Looks like he'd have to improvise.

“Ignis.” He recited the incantation before shooting a firebolt right at the creature’s main face, setting it ablaze and allowing Tav to get in some slashes across its lower body. The beast flailed and screamed, kicking Tav in the face and knocking her down into the ground with powerful force before charging towards the elf's advantage point.

“Shit.” The silver haired male cursed before beginning to make a run for it, only to have the ground crumble beneath him.

“Astarion!” Tav screamed, now returned to her human form, pure horror in her eyes as she saw the giant beast slam its body into the ledge her beloved had been standing on. He let out a shout as he began to fall, so close to hitting the ground before a black blur flew over and took hold of the back of his doublet.  Tav growled in anger before conjuring a thorn covered vine using her magic before lassoing it around the monster’s throat. 

Astarion blinked noticing he hadn't hit the ground, the sound of flapping wings and huffing could be heard above him.

“Ugh ... .Star, you're so heavy!” A little voice said before suddenly Astarion was gently placed on his feet. He looked back to see a black fluffy tressym huffing before slowly landing on the ground, very winded from having to hold up the elf with her tiny body.   

“Darling, where in the hells have you been?” Astarion stared down at the little black tressym as she caught her breath. 

“I tried to go catch that half-elf trader before he got too far! I think he conned us on that sun walker map!” The tressym exclaimed.

“You think?” Astarion rolled his eyes before gesturing to gigantic green humanoid.

“FUCK MEEEEEE!!!!!” Tav screamed as she was yanked up from the ground by the enormous creature as it yanked its neck hard, pulling both Tav and her vine lasso and slinging them around. 

“Tav!” Astarion quickly dashed over as Tav went flying through the air. He swiftly leaped up and caught her before tumbling down with her on top of him. “My darling, are you alright?” He asked, voice full of concern. Tav immediately got up off the elven male seemingly ignoring him. 

“I'm gonna kick some green prick’s ass!” She shouted before running back towards the beast.

Astarion huffed in annoyance, his love could be so difficult at times. It excited him back when they had first met. Her eagerness to rush into danger and slaughter her foes without a second thought truly got him going, but now that he had come to care for her so deeply things were different. He was terrified of anything happening to her. Astarion let out a sigh before drawing his bow and notching an arrow, aiming at the head he had previously been able to set ablaze.  His arrow was able to tear right through the beast, leaving blood to pour from its skull. Its other heads roared in pain as the creature flailed its arms around frantically.

Tav then suddenly remembered something she had hidden in her pack and given the creature’s distraction, now was the perfect opportunity to use it. She quickly pulled out a scroll of fireball before reciting the incantation and firing right at the monster, setting its entire body aflame. The beast twitched and spasmed, crying out in pure agony before eventually falling flat on its back, body burnt to a crisp as the life depleted from its eyes. Tav took a deep breath before running up and kicking what was left of the charred corpse.

“Take that you big green bitch!” She huffed. Astarion wiped some sweat from his brow before letting out a sigh of relief as he watched his lover take out her frustration on the carcass. 

“Goods gods. A dire-troll…” The winged cat exclaimed as she scurried over towards the couple. 

“Oh…So that's what this thing was? I had no idea those were in the Underdark.” Tav blinked before looking over at their feline companion. “Did you have luck spying on that merchant, Maddie?” 

“I believe he was making his way back to the Myconid colony. Considering we were almost killed following this map he gave us I think it's safe to assume we got scammed.” Maddie stated.

“You're right. Nothing out here but a dead end and a dead troll.” Tav sighed, stretching her arms behind her head. 

“I told you I thought he was a rogue. Why didn't you tell me you suspected he was scamming us?” Astarion asked.

“I didn't want to crush your hopes of finding the ring of the sunwalker.” Tav sighed.

“Darling, we were both almost literally crushed today.” Astarion crossed his arms. “Perhaps we should forget about feelings if there's a chance we're walking into certain death, hm?” 

“Sorry….” Tav looked down, hanging her head in shame before feeling Astarion's cool hands cup her face and make her look at him. 

“I'm not angry at you, I just don't want you getting hurt on my behalf, love.” He said before pressing a kiss to her forehead. “We will find this magic sun ring in time, but you must be by my side when we do.”  He looked down at her fondly, eyes round and full of love. Tav couldn't help but give in to the smile that was creeping its way across her face as she glanced back up at her love. Maddie then suddenly cleared her throat as she looked up at her humanoid companions.

“I do hate to interrupt this beautiful moment my friends, but there is the matter of the man who conned us out of 1000 gold pieces for that map.” The tressym exclaimed, tapping a paw against the ground.

“Right. That bastard owes us money.” Tav said as she pulled away from her partner. “Hmm…You know Astarion, we could always invite him out for bite ...if you have the appetite, my Star.” 

“Oh my love, you know I simply adore it when you treat me to dinner.” Astarion flicked his tongue over his fangs, a sadistic grin making its way onto his face. “I'm salivating just thinking about it.~” 

“I always make sure to take good care of my man.” Tav boasted with a smug grin, giving her vampiric love a wink. “Come on Maddie, let's go pay this con man a visit.

“Yes, of course Tav.” Maddie said before hopping up onto Tav's shoulder and hitching a ride on her. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once they tracked down the merchant who scammed them, took back their gold and allowed Astarion to have a nice little treat, the trio returned to their current abode to rest up after a tiring day of adventuring in the Underdark.  Tav and Astarion had taken up residence in the old abandoned Arcane Tower after getting assistance repairing it from the Kuo-Toa. Conveniently the fish folk had still believed Tav to be some god of murder and were easily convinced to build her a palace for her and her murderous bride (which was what they referred to Astarion as).

It was less building a palace and more so just doing renovations on the tower to make it more homey as Astarion put it. Once they returned home, Tav went down to the basement with Maddie trailing after her. Since her and her former companions had cured themselves of their tadpoles and defeated a threat to all of Faerûn she'd began to take up some wizard skills, studying the weave and expanding her abilities.

She'd honestly always wanted to be a wizard, but when you grow up in a family full of druids, in a village full of druids you don't exactly have that many options. Tav opened up one of her journals, sketching a little doodle of the dire-troll she fought today before looking through one of the magical tomes Gale had sent to her from Waterdeep. She studied the pages, taking in the different techniques and incantations for fire spells. These definitely would have been hells of a lot more help earlier today. Maddie leapt up on the desk Tav sat at in the basement, stretching out her wings before letting out a yawn and taking a seat next to Tav. 

“Star was asking for you Tav.” The little feline spoke up in her sweet high sounding voice. “He said he patched up the tear in your cloak.” 

“Tell him I said thanks, but I'm busy right now.” Tav muttered, trying to concentrate on reading the current page she was on. 

“He also said something about gagging you and tying you up if you keep ruining the clothes he makes you?” The tressym tilted her head innocently, a bit confused by Astarion's threat.

“Oh well, that's nice.” Tav said, barely paying any attention.  She was too invested in the tome to even hear the noise of the elevator coming down, followed light footsteps moving across the stairs.

“Darling, just what exactly are you doing down here?” Astarion suddenly took a step behind her, causing Tav to jump.

“AH! Hells Astarion!” She said, turning back to see him, crossing his arms. 

“I thought I told that cat to fetch you…” Astarion huffed and glanced over at Maddie with a raised brow.

“I'm a tressym!” Maddie pouted, ears shooting straight back. Astarion ignored her offended demeanor and focused solely on Tav.

“I'm trying to study…You know wizard stuff…” Tav sighed before looking up at her needy vampire boyfriend.  

“And you can't just read this upstairs? With me?” Astarion stepped over to Tav before suddenly planting himself on her lap and snaking his arms around her shoulders. If it wasn't for Tav’s well filled out form he probably would have squished her. The position honestly looked a little funny given he was taller than her.  

“Not when you do stuff like this.” Tav pouted, a blush spreading across her face as he sat on her lap, muscular ass pressed down on her thigh. “I know you don't have much to do when we're here but I need to study. This could be so useful for when we're out there searching for that ring!” Tav gave him a small smile. 

“You already know enough magic as it is, you're a druid for gods sake. I don't see the point in forcing yourself to do this unnecessary work.” Astarion huffed. 

“Please Star this is important to me. Just give me a little longer. Then we can do whatever you want.” Tav hummed, looking back at him with puppy dog eyes. 

“Oh alright. You have twenty minutes. Then you and I are getting a bath.” He smirked before planting a kiss on her cheek and getting up. Tav continued on with her studies before eventually getting up and joining her lover in a hot bath he'd prepared for the two of them. Tav stripped down her armor and undergarments before exposing her thick curvaceous form and getting into the tub beside him. All the stretch marks, creases, lumps and imperfections were completely on show for the vampire to see.

It had honestly taken a long time before she had become confident enough to expose herself in front of him so casually, but she'd come so far.  Not too long ago she'd thought of herself unworthy of having a lover.  Funny how things could change so drastically.  Astarion at times practically worshipped this body she loathed so greatly.

Tav still didn't understand it.

“You know you could probably try finding a hobby, Star. Something besides killing, and me…” Tav hummed a bit as her elven lover washed her messy locks. “You're very good at sewing. Why not try that? The cloak you made for me is gorgeous.” 

“And yet you ripped it.” Astarion rolled his eyes as Tav sat between his legs.

“Technically the troll ripped it.” Tav sassed, before wincing at a slight tug on her hair. 

“Yes well who's fault is that now is it?” Astarion smirked. 

“You fixed it though, didn't you?” Tav grinned, turning back to look at him,“see this is a perfect hobby.”

“You just want me to be your personal seamstress don't you?” Astarion booped Tav's nose playfully.

“Would that be so terrible?” Tav tilted her head.

“Maybe not…I will admit I do rather like dressing you up…. Almost as much as I like undressing you.” He growled in her ear before planting a kiss on her neck. Tav couldn't help but giggle, feeling him wrap his arms around her ribs, pulling her back against his chest before resting his chin on top of her head with a sigh. “This is nice…” He hummed, resting his eyes. Tav let out a peaceful sigh before relaxing against him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Peace never truly lasts. Eventually there's always something that comes along to throw one’s world back into chaos.  

Tav and Astarion had gone to bed, all snuggled up in their elegant silky sheets Tav had been able to purchase. She used funds she'd made while writing her popular book series ‘Blood-Mage’ (a ridiculously smutty novel featuring a handsome young sorcerer named Garrett Delarous who ends up forced to team up with Vampire Lord Arian Arcane to save the world or something…).

Tav laid there, bloodshot eyes staring at the ceiling while Astarion tranced beside her, arms wrapped around her plush waist as his head rested against her chest.  Usually Astarion’s embrace was enough to keep her anxiety fueled insomnia away but tonight her mind would not still. Too many thoughts ran a muck in her head, never calming down. It was almost maddening. 

Eventually she shut her eyes, trying her damndest to relax and drift away. She did a little exercise where she'd picture herself sleeping in her mind, thinking of the cool feeling of the sheets, the softness of her mattress and the comfort of her lover's arms.  Tav was so, so very close to drifting away, but then the worse happened.

“No! G-Get away!” A voice whimpered out beside her, sending Tav on high alert. Astarion had jerked away from her. “Master please! No more!” 

“Astarion.” Tav sat up and looked over at her panicked love.  She moved quickly to shake him awake, fearful he may hurt himself in his unconscious state with his thrashing.

“GET THE HELLS AWAY FROM ME!” He hissed, fangs barred as he dug his nails into the bed. Astarion was wide awake now, breathing quickly, frantically. His eyes were filled with terror as tears formed in the corners. 

“My love…. It's me….Tav…” Tav said calmly getting off the bed to give him space. “No one is going to hurt you. You're safe.”

“I….I saw him again….” The elf shakily choked out. “He was reciting poetry…as he carved it into my flesh...” Astarion took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure but he still shook like a leaf. “I'll never get rid of that fucking bastard!” 

“Cazador is dead, Astarion. He will never hurt you again.” Tav said calmly. “I will never let anyone hurt you again…” 

“You can't promise that Tav.” Astarion huffed, “he still lives in my head.”  The druid slowly moved towards him, heart aching as she noticed a tear running down his cheek.  

“You're so strong my love. I know you can overcome these demons, but I'm also here when you need me.” Tav said, slowly taking a seat back on the bed. She moved her hand towards him slightly, but not too close, just close enough for him to grab if need be. It took a few more moments before Astarion glanced back over at Tav, slowly intertwining his hand with hers and giving it a squeeze. “If you want to talk about it I will listen.” Tav said. 

“I don't…” Astarion said simply. 

“Well then I won't pry…” Tav gave him a sad smile. Astarion turned towards her before pulling her close and burying his face into her neck, arms slipping around her waist. She shushed him, rubbing circles on his back in a soothing manor. 

Astarion's old master was dead and gone, but he was certainly not forgotten. Tav knew better than most that the scars of the mind were far worse than the scars of the body.  All she could really do now was stay by her lover's side and whisper sweet nothings into his pointed ears.  

Eventually the two gave up on sleep for a bit. Tav had Astarion sit in one of their armchairs adorned in his eccentric silky red night robe as she scampered over to their cooking pot in only a tank and boxers. She grabbed one of the blood bank jars they kept stored away before pouring some into a mug and heating it over the fire just enough so it would appear fresh. She took the mug back over to Astarion once it was ready and gave it to him.  

“Thank you darling. I.. I'm sorry I must have woken you.” He muttered before sipping from his cup. 

“No. I actually haven't been able to sleep myself. My mind just won't settle down I suppose.” Tav hummed. 

“Were you thinking about the drow again?” Astarion asked. 

“Oh no…I..for once it wasn't him…Just a lot on my mind…Nothing important really.” 

“Tav! Astarion!” Suddenly Maddie's small voice called out as she came up the elevator and into their room.  “There is something very important you guys need to see in the basement!!!” The little black tressym flapped her wings in a panic before galloping over to them. The vampire and druid looked at each other before following their furry and feathered friend downstairs before eventually being met with a familiar face. 

Gale Dekarios of Waterdeep…or his projection self anyway. 

“Good evening, I come with an urgent message from Professor Gale of Waterdeep. He is in grave danger and is in dire need of your help.” The projection said.

“What? Can't the wizard take care of himself for one evening!” Astarion let out a frustrated sigh before crossing his arms.

“What happened!? Where's Gale?” Tav asked.

“The details of his predicament have been left enclosed in an envelope on your desk.” 

Tav hummed in confusion before walking over to her desk and tearing the envelope open. She expected a letter or maybe some cryptic message entailing that Gale was being held hostage in some dungeon somewhere, but no, all that stood out was an invitation to a formal extravagant soiree being thrown by some noble in Waterdeep. 

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Note From TheChaoticDruid: THIS IS THE SURPRISE I'D BEEN TEASING A WHILE BACK! I honestly wanted to do a fic like this ever since I'd seen people asking for a fancy party type of quest in BG3 and I was like yeah.....I want that too! Imma have to do some research for the next bit so don't expect super fast updates, but it will be continued.

Hope you enjoyed! And to all the people who recognize Maddie, you get this cookie 🫴🍪. Y'all are the real ones. 😎

~Druid

[credince--writes]

Deep In Those Woods 6

Keegan P. Russ x Fem!Reader

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6

AO3

Masterlist

You find a strange man in the woods, no doubt running from the federation. He seems, well, in simple terms beat to shit. May your act of kindness not go unpunished.

A/N:

DID SOMEONE SAY WORLDBUILDING AND SEXUALLLLL TENSION?

I did :)

Sorry I've been gone so long my appendix fucking exploded

Taglist:

@dindjarinsmeshla @tessxq @ladyvlolypop @tiny-kasper

@biggiecheeselover @konigsleftkidney @mykneeshurt @katsufairies @noname0756

Keegan stared, mouth opening and trying to speak but nothing coming out- his mind rushing a million miles a minute.

"Because you owe me?" You teased.

He releases a breath. "Yea, Princess. Because I owe you."

You were angry, rightfully so-

You felt you were further past this, but at the same time, you really didn't know each other at all did you?

You knew he muttered in his sleep, softly, and only when he felt warm. He never mumbled when he was cold, he'd curl in on himself

You knew his eyes reminded you of the clear, blue waters of the creeks and rivers that passed over the rocks here.

You knew that even though he'd never say anything, he liked having extra carmelized onions in his food.

Or that he still wouldn't complain, but was always hesitant to eat scrambled eggs for some reason.

"You need to sit down." You all but hissed out, shooing him out of the kitchen and back down onto the couch across the room.

"And you..." Keegan sat down, leaning back into the cushion of the couch and letting out a sigh of relief, the stabbing pain in his side subsiding as he leaned back and relaxed. Trailing off, the glanced out the window, dutifully ignoring the light red tinge of embarrassment that dusted onto his face understanding that yes, you were right about his exertion.

He needed to dial it back if he ever wanted to get better.

He'd been hurt worse before, he argued, he shouldn't be complacent in a stranger's home just because it was warm.

Just because there were rare occasions where your hand would grace across his skin, his eyes would flutter closed and he could almost forget about how horrible of a man he really was.

He was destined to be buried face down in the Earth, pointed back home in some strange, cold, and hostile land. Not being doted on, and soaking it up like a greedy sponge.

What the fuck is he doing?

He has been MIA for who knows how long- he couldn't keep track of the days in his concussed stupor, but he knows it was more than two weeks minimum of time he'd lost total.

Keegan was angry with himself for letting the time get away from him- but from the dark splotching on his skin he knew that if he had just tried to push it he would've died under the ferns and moss.

That was, if he ever would've managed to get himself out of that creek.

A horrible little part of him knew he wouldn't have.

He needed to get his radio working- he needed to get intel back to base- the fact that there was four unmarked settlements they didn't even know about was concerning. How old was the information they'd sent him out here for based off of?

What he needed was-

“Soup.” You said, almost sheepishly as you sat down next to him, readying yourself to raise the spoon to his lips. His cold blue eyes narrowed on the bowl, forcing him to sit up and reach his hands out to pull it from your grip.

Your cheeks burned, turning your head away and sucked in a deep breath trying not to immediately turn back and react, glance down at his waistband, and argue. Biting your tongue and waiting just a millisecond you gather your thoughts you turned your head back to look at him, the amusement clear in his pale blue eyes.

You quickly stood, excusing yourself and walking outside to take a breath.

The feeling of your warm hands brushing against his chest when you thought he was asleep, selfishly keeping his breathing even to lure your little hands into touching him.

No.

He had pieces of why he'd been sent, he knew the mission. He just lost bits of time to the adrenaline and blood loss as he staggered through the woods and eventually toppled into the creek.

He'd left from Santa Monica nearly two months ago, he knew that. The plane ride, the rinky dinky bush plane if it could even be considered a plane.

It had two wings in flew, he mused to himself, of course, it was a fucking plane.

The heavily wooded areas of the northern segment of the state, while not ravished by the attacks of ODIN had fallen victim to the infestation of Federation soldiers. It was a guerilla war, in the street, woods, the rivers. The cities fell first, but the remote areas were controlled by farmers withheld.

Infrastructure was destroyed, bridges were blown, and entire counties were islanded in a matter of days.

And since they held no real value in the war, they were left alone.

Until five months ago.

The intel was solid, they'd moved in from the coast suddenly, surging into the few remaining skeletons of cities and overwhelming what little military a civilian presence was left.

The question was why.

Nuclear Power.

A small, barely on-the-map city and it's nearly forgotten nuclear power plant was guarded with the minimal military presence that remained in the area. And clearly, the presence wasn't enough.

The rods in the plant could be deconstructed and turned into dirty bombs that could, and more than likely would, wreak havoc on the few remaining 'unscathed' cities of the country.

Keegan called it one of the worst oversights possible-

all they had to do was remove the fucking nuclear components/

But alas, the bridges had been blown up.

Was the justification.

He lived in the woods, deep behind the cover, and stalked, much like the wildlife rampantly taking back over the land. Lurking in the shadows and observing trying to confirm if the plant was being used to convert for weapons of mass destruction.

Or, even more plausibly, to turn the city into one of their most efficiently functioning bases on American soil.

He volunteered himself for the mission, needed some way to escape after the last absolute shit show of a mission that ended with both Hesh and Logan getting hurt. He knew he couldn't have prevented it- it's just something that happens on the job now, but it still melted into his flesh like acid.

He needed time to be alone, time to rethink the events that had happened. What better way to have plenty of time to think than to volunteer to sit in a glorified damp hole for God knows how long and simply wait.

And wait.

And wait some more.

It started to become clear that at least for now, the power plant was to stay to its intended use- holding the old employees at gunpoint to ensure that the plant stayed maintained.

He waited some more.

Until the crackling of his radio, quiet in his ear but so loud compared to the silence he'd become accustomed to over the last few days. New intel on a location nestled deep in the woods, five miles from his current vantage point staring down onto the plant.

Well, that's where it went to shit.

The hike wasn't the bad part, neither was the rain, or the mosquitoes, or the run-in with the bear. He could manage all of those things, but he wasn't prepared to see the base. The dingy little thing if it could even be called a base.

He could argue with himself and say he'd stayed in worse, but that was beside the point.

It was the people.

Of course, there would be the locals, they wouldn't be able to sustain the base without their (forced) help of them. He knew that, that was usually how those bases went. Either the locals would be killed on sight, or be forced into laboring for their invaders.

He just never got used to how skinny and hollow they always looked.

So when it was one of the Prisoners who saw past the camouflage and alerted the soldiers, barrels turning and pointing dangerously close to not twigs and leaves- Keegan decided he needed to move.

And he was moving, running- fleeing, for three days.

The delirium of exhaustion caused hallucinations of sounds that weren't really there- soldiers that weren't really there. Getting the drop on him in ways they shouldn't have been able to.

He'll blame it on the exhaustion.

But it seems like some of these soldiers knew the land better than a non-local soldier.

They'd started to convert.

And he ran, until the blade of his knife was dull and blood splattered on the ferns and leaves beneath him. Until his legs gave out from under him.

Until he tumbled into the sweet, cold fresh water of your creek.

Until he felt the first brush of your warm flesh against his.

Maybe he was still delirious.

[swsource]

The Book of Boba Fett Chapter 1: Stranger in a Strange Land