#ruby rose x original character

[rivermonster2014]

Team RWBY learns what happened to Dorin and Sun after they left Vale. They hatch a plan and set things into motion.

[yandere-writer-momo]

Yandere Baki Head Canon:

Mine Mine Mine

Yandere Hanayama Kaoru x Childhood Fem Reader

TW: Jealousy, murder (mention), delusional behavior, power imbalance, yandere behavior, etc.

Aged Up Character. They’re in their mid 20s

Hanayama could remember the day two of you first met. It was in the springtime after his mother had passed away, a difficult time for him that made him nearly empty inside. A time where you, a foreigner, had extended your hand to him with a smile. A small gesture of kindness that scorched itself into his memory for all eternity. This insignificant moment to you, was the start of your love story with him. A foreign exchange student turned violinist and the future leader of the Hanayama group.

Your friendship was originally onesided but Hanayama began to open up to you when he noticed how you didn’t have ulterior motives. You were incredibly naive and kind to a fault. You fascinated him with how oblivious to the world you were. You were innocent like a lamb.

In the early months of your friendship with him, you often brought him homemade lunches with the recent math homework notes (since he struggled with math). You’d often chatter beside him as he silently sat beside you. Hanayana was at first confused by your mannerisms but the more he watched you, the more he understood.

You were the sun while he was the moon. You were a bright warm light that made everything burst to life with a glance while others didn’t often seek out his. Yet you selflessly shared your light with him which made him slowly open up to you. You never excluded him from any of the invitations you’d give to together classmates, which often ended up causing just you and Hanayama to hang out alone.

Hanayama wasn’t sure when his crush on you grew into something more, but he knew he loved you. Hanayama Kaoru loved you so much that he was obsessed with you. He’d get in the way of any potential romance you could have with anyone because in his mind, you belonged to him.

The two of you were a couple. You two went on dates (his classmates didn’t want to be involved with a yakuza)! You’d play your violin for him while he’d watch you like a hawk with the smallest hint to a smile on his scarred lips. That was just the way your relationship was… Hanayama was your protective shadow while you were his shining star.

As the two of you grew older and he became busier once he became head of the family and you grew traction as a violinist, the two of you drifted apart a bit. A fact Hanayama hated. He hated the paperwork and constant ‘business meetings’ he had to go to. It was frustrating that he wasn’t able to be around you. You’re his beloved partner, his future wife.

So Hanayana turned to Kizaki for advice on how to make up for his absence. His right hand man happily suggested gift giving to make up for his lack of a physical presence in your life. And Hanayama nodded his head. You had often said you enjoyed flowers… how about a bouquet of roses?

It started with one bouquet of ruby red roses and that was the start of his swarm of gifts. Hanayama felt his breath hitch at the bright smile on your face at receiving the roses. How your eyes crinkled with delight as you thanked him for the gift. He didn’t know you’d be so thrilled to receive such a small bouquet of roses… would you want more than those ones?

The bouquets become bigger each week. Redder, fuller, and more fragrant. But soon that wasn’t enough for him to see your smiles over flowers. No. Hanayama should buy you jewelry. Necklaces and bracelets from famous jewelers all across the world for his beautiful violinist!

Yet you’d always smile at him and tell him his company was enough. Hanayama couldn’t believe how sweet you were… it only made him want to spoil you more.

Whenever he’d have free time, he’d sneak off to see your orchestra shows. He was your number one fan, the first one you ever had… Hanayama enjoyed seeing how you’d light up the room in awe at your musical talent… until he noticed how chummy one of the bassist in the orchestra started to become with you. You weren’t cheating on Hanayama were you? He really didn’t want get his hands dirty…

You’d always run to his side whenever your shows ended as you thanked him for coming. Your cute smile and flushed cheeks always made his heart flutter… until the face of that bassist snuck into his mind. Should he ask you about that guy? No… you were his.

Hanayama started to grow busier once more but his paranoia about the other man didn’t lessen. No, it intensified due to his absence in your life. Hanayama felt physically ill at the idea of you being with anyone other than him. You were his love. His light. If someone tried to take you away, he’d lose his mind.

So he began to send a few of his men to watch over you… for his own peace of mind (to stalk you). It was just to ease the jealousy that seeped into his heart. That’s all… until they reported how the bassist often seemed to make you uncomfortable. Turns out he was the son of the composer so he often got away with harassing you… and that wasn’t going to fly with Hanayama. No one messed with Hanayama’s woman and got away with it.

It wasn’t hard to capture that man and give him a slow, agonizing death for making you cry, but his involvement made life more difficult for you. He noticed how your solos lessened in the orchestra despite how you were significantly more talented than the other musicians. He hadn’t realized the disappearance of the son would be blamed on you… Hanayama hadn’t meant to make your life harder!

And that’s when an epiphany hit him. Why don’t you just marry him now? You’d live a comfortable and safe life where you could play your violin as much as you wanted! Wouldn’t that be lovely?

Hanayama planned out the perfect proposal for you! One where he had even picked out a dress for you and booked out a restaurant… But when the day came around for him to fetch you, he was shocked that you were a bit frightened by this loud action of love. Did you not like this establishment? Or the clothes? Hanayama could always get you something different!

You shake your head and reassure him, but he still is upset by your lack of interest in this date. Perhaps red would have suited your taste more than black? Or was the restaurant too upscale for your taste? Hanayama would do better next time!

Hanayama is so worried when you tremble before him like a frightened rabbit. His large hand held your small one in his as his eyes softened at you.

“Why are you shaking so much?” Hanayama softly asked, his deep voice barely above a whisper. “Is it too cold in here?”

You sniffle a bit as a few tears fall down your face. “People said you might have done something to Yuki… but you didn’t, right?”

Ah. You wanted reassurance about that man’s disappearance. How kind of you… but you had no need to worry.

“I only ever do anything if it’s in your best interest.” Hanayama gave you a soft smile, one that was specifically reserved for you. He reached his free hand over so his fingers could wipe away your tears. “Your happiness is my number one priority.”

You nodded your head as you leaned into his touch. An action that made a delighted shiver run down Hanayama’s spine.

“You always do so much for me, Kaoru.” Hanayama loved that you called him by his first name. You were the only person in this world that was allowed to do that. “I just feel so bad… is there anything I can do for you?”

Hanayama gave you a sweet smile as he moved his hands away from your form. His right hand reached into his suit jacket to pull out a small black box. Your eyes widened in shock when Hanayama went down on one knee beside you.

Hanayama opened the box to reveal a dazzling diamond ring that no doubt cost a kidney on the black market. His smile never left his scarred face as he stated to you in a stern voice, “Marry me. Marry me and you’ll never have a worry in the world again. Say that you’ll be mine and no one else’s.”

[lenny-link]

In regards to the SU x TF2 AU:

I have been racking my brain over here trying to understand the decision to make RED Spy a ruby and BLU Spy a sapphire. Nothing about his portrayal seemed to line up with canon depictions of rubies or sapphires, and RED Spy's gem isn't even faceted like a ruby. Also the obvious joke of making him a Bixbite, like the corrupted gem who was a giant crab, seemed obvious. Then it dawned on me.

He's a color-change sapphire, isn't he? That's why his RED version has a sapphire cut despite supposedly being a ruby? And also potentially why he's the only one we've seen RED and BLU variations of (though I get the impression that's also so one can be paired with Scout's Ma and the other with Engie) when all the others have been RED(-ish) isn't it? Or am I completely off base with this theory?

i LOVE your theory i wish you shared your thoughts before i elaborated the ‘lore’ of the au

but since ive had lots of questions about details id like to mention that:

1. i originally had not planned to make any story behind the su au, so if there’s things that dont make sense, don’t align with canon and stuff, it was not planned soo im working with what i have :p

2. i was hoping no one notices the mistake i made of swapping the gems ruby/sapphire lol its because at first i had drawn Blu(sapphire) Spy in that page, but i thought it was confusing since there was RedSpy x Scout’sMa and Scout next to him, so i just changed the colors and i didnt change the gem bc i was lazy :P

3. the main reason i put both Blu/Red Spy was to create fusion, i thought to add an extra merc with a blu color would be cool for the fusions that isnt from ClassicTeam, and idk i couldn’t think of a better merc to have as a pair than Spy and i thought there is more potential with 2 Spies to work on a story than any other merc idk

(yes i didnt put garnet as the fusion so as not to make confusion with Demoman being a Garnet, and we don’t have an Amethyst anyways so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ )

4. it is IMPOSSIBLE to align each TF2 character with a SU character, there’s nothing in common between the two medias whatsoever, so the dynamics that im gonna be making for the TF2 au are gonna be a bit mixed, for example: RedSpy and BluSpy having Ruby/Sapphire’s dynamic (kinda), but also they have the same dynamic as Rose/Pearl, for the part where Red would go with a human (Scout’s Ma) and Blu would be jealous (just like pearl), HeavyMedic also would be having Ruby/Sapphire dynamic (the part where they fuse for the first time just like Ruby/Sapphire in the show, im still working on comic about this btw)

5. also im mixing with well TF2 canon story + trying really to make an original story too, soo its a whole mess ik :p im trying just bear with me ^^"

but thank you for pointing that out, it makes me happy knowing people actually pay attention to details thats super fun! ill make sure to not miss any details next time! :D

[aliavian]

My new RWBY “ChibiCFVY” Short is out! ☺️❤️

Professor Ozpin hires a Substitute Huntsman to give a lecture at Beacon Academy. Unfortunately for the class, Mr. Garvey can’t seem to get anyone’s names right during attendance. 😂

This is a parody of Key & Peele’s “Substitute Teacher” skit! (If you haven’t seen that before, I definitely suggest checking out that original video!)

As always, special shout-out to all the amazing voice volunteers who helped bring this video to life! Make sure to give them all lots of love by watching the credits in the video and check out their Twitter(X) profiles! Also major shout-out to all my amazing monthly “Overly Caffeinated” Ko-Fi Members! Your support means SO much ! ❤️

Follow me on Instagram, Twitter(X), TikTok, and Ko-Fi for more #ChibiCFVY, RWBY fan art, cartoons, comics, cosplay, and more!

Assembled and Illustrated by me @ AliAvian

Professor Ozpin- @ Lucky Tremendous VA

Mr. Garvey- @ JCVibrant

Weiss Schnee - @ Silent Wisteria VA

Blake Belladonna - @ Lavender Rare

Lie Ren- @ DrPlagueFellow

Fox Alistair - @ NektisNoir

Yatsuhashi Daichi- @ Caleb VA

Ruby Rose- @ Pink Sunshine Cosplays

Credits Music by Eloisio Michalski

Characters belong to Rooster Teeth & Viz Media, and Key & Peele.

[shesjustanothergeek]

His Love

|Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader|

Part Sixteen

Master List of Series

Summary: Being a bastard born in the slums of Flea Bottom was all you were known for. Not the streak of white you had in your dark hair, the violet ring around your pupils, or how your sharp tongue and skills with the blade resembled your father, Daemon Targaryen. You were just a bastard, nothing more, but to him, to Aegon Targaryen, you were everything. You were his love.

Author's Note: I was originally going to have this chapter be the feast celebration for Aegon's birthday, but I got carried away with writing some... stuff for our kindred lovers. I hope this quenches your thirst for the main character and Aegon to interact with each other. ;)

Chapter Warnings: Sexual assault, dark sexual themes, angst, covert manipulation. 

"Like a compass needle that points north, a man's accusing finger always finds a woman." - A Thousand Splendid Suns, Khaled Hosseini.

Aegon Targaryen was quick to anger and slow to forgive. This instance was no different. He was angry at you for not protesting as a crown of ruby roses was placed upon your head. He was angry at Ser Dalton Greyjoy for being able to claim the woman he yearned for openly. He was angry at his Mother for planning the damn celebrations that started this whole ordeal in the first place. He was angry at the world for cursing him to live a life of torment.

All of Aegon's life things were just out of reach. The first surviving son of Kings Viserys, but not named heir. The touch from a mother he so loved but meeting the scorn of her hand. He could have everything he desired, but not the woman he loved.

He wanted to forget the path the Gods had chosen for him. Perhaps if he drank from the bottle of honeyed mead waiting for him in his chambers, he could forget the tragedy that was his life. He concluded that fate was cruel and twisted as he downed another and another, his goal seeming out of his grasp no matter how much he swallowed. Soon tears began to follow, painting glittering stripes down his cheeks.

Aegon did not want to be here anymore. He couldn't stand the way the pale red stone walls seemed to taunt him, forever a reminder of his suffering. He did not know where his legs carried him, only following his muscles' unconscious commands. He felt a hiccup cease his body, convulsing as his skin touched the cool night air. He took another swig of his drink only to find no drop left. He threw it aside, stumbling a few paces and collapsing onto dry packed dirt.

You heard the sniveling Prince as you lined your sights with the target in front of you, pulling the string of your longbow taught. Under cover of darkness, you were only allowed to train, a request from the Queen to keep the propriety of her court. Though she refused to admit it aloud, she feared the possible embarrassment you could bring to her sons if Lords and Ladies saw you sharpening your skills and not her boys.

Truthfully, you did not mind the constraints. The nighttime climate made the conditions perfect for strengthening your vision, requiring you to focus on the task rather than letting your mind wander. It was also lovely that you did not have to deal with the stares of being a lady in trousers and a coat instead of a dress.

You wanted to ignore Aegon behind you. He seemed to have not noticed your presence, though you could not deny the way your heart cracked as you heard him release a sob. It would be advantageous to comfort him, but you needed to find out if you could handle playing that role. The remnants of your resentment for his family still seeped from your pores. You inhaled swiftly, the smell of woodsmoke burning in the sky as you placed your quiver and bow onto a rack.

"My Prince." You alerted him, walking over to his trembling form and resting on your knees. "What hurts you so?" you asked, pausing momentarily before brushing away a piece of blonde hair stuck to his face.

Aegon didn't answer with words, crying and moaning something unintelligible as you stroked his head lightly. He sucked in two quick breaths, his arms limply raising as if to touch you before falling to his sides again.

You began to feel actual concern, pulling him into your lap as you held his sobbing body. "Aegon?" you questioned again, hoping to break through his drunken sadness. "My Prince? My sweet, sweet Prince, what causes you so much pain?"

You saw his eyes open, looking back into your warm ones as you cradled him like a newborn babe. You brought your knees to your torso to have him closer, still stroking his wavy hair. Aegon shoved his face into your chest, tears sliding down the leather of your snapped coat. He was in no condition to speak, so you continued to comfort him, rocking in your embrace.

"My sweet boy, you do not need to hide your tears from me. I will bare them with you and wipe them dry." You did not know where the kind words originated, simply coming from your heart instead of your mind. "Tell me what has broken you so I may mend it," you whispered.

Suddenly, Aegon surged upwards, smashing his wet lips into yours, the unexpected force knocking you on your back. He gripped your loosely braided hair, preventing you from turning away as you felt his mouth move against yours. He barely gave you a moment to breathe, gnashing his teeth as his tongue explored the remote territory.

You were too stunned to move. The sensation of his mouth pressed to yours sent shocks through your body as you lay there frozen. His kisses began to stray away from the initial spot, traveling across your jaw and down to your neck. The feeling of his teeth nipping on your tender flesh made you gasp, heat blossoming on your cheeks as your limbs regained consciousness again, attempting to push him away.

Most of Aegon's weight was on you, and it was near impossible to get him off. You pulled on his hair, the strands nearly ripping from his scalp as he stared at you with amethyst eyes darkened with lust.

"What are you doing?" Your mind was reeling, trying to catch up with his actions. He ducked his head to bite your skin again, but you tugged him away as he hissed. "Aegon. Answer me. What are you doing?"

"You said that you wanted to fix my pain." He went down again, and you did not protest this time, unable to think correctly. "This will fix it."

"No-No, Aegon. Stop this." You couldn't control the soft whine that escaped your throat as he sucked on the sensitive skin behind your ear. "This... This is not right."

"But it is," he murmured, licking the spot he released from. "You want to know what has broken me? You have." You tried to pull his hair again, pushing him off with your free hand, but he was too heavy. "Today. On a day to celebrate my birth, no less, you decided to put on a fucking show for that boy," Aegon slurred, grabbing both of your hands and binding them with his own.

"What?" you choked as he shoved your arms under your back. "What are you talking of? I-I did no-"

He cut your sentence off with another searing kiss, pushing his tongue into your mouth once more as he fumbled with the clasps of your jacket.

"You broke me, little one. You are the one that has hurt me so. I deserve to take your forgiveness how I see fit." Panic overcame you as you thrashed underneath him, remembering the spectacle Dalton Greyjoy made.

He stopped his bombardment of affection, staring with the softest eyes you had ever seen. "Don't you want to mend me? After all, your actions are what have caused this."

The crisp air shuddered in your lungs as he spoke, halting your struggles as you held his gaze. You were unsure of what he wanted. Whether it was to simply kiss or defile you on the cold dirt of the training yard, you knew not. Aegon's actions scattered your thoughts as he gently stroked your cheek, contrasting what you felt in your gut. No matter what it was, you realized you could not refuse him for your sake, the future's sake, for your family's sake.

You would be strong like Jace claimed you were. You would do anything Aegon wanted for them. You took a deep breath, steadying your racing heart before speaking.

"I will give whatever apology you see fit, Aegon. It is what's owed after seeing how my actions have affected you. But not here. Not in the training yard. You deserve more than that." You gave him what you hoped was a convincing smile, leaning into his touch.

His lip trembled as he saw your mouth curve. It looked like he was about to cry again as he lifted you to him, releasing your hands from their uncomfortable confinement. Aegon embraced you as you felt tears fall onto the places he burnt with his mouth. Tentatively, you raised your shaking arms, holding him back as you timidly rubbed his wrinkled tunic.

***

You had managed to drag the inebriated Aegon back to his chambers, meeting the sympathetic eyes of Ser Erryk outside his door. He had seen it many times before. Typically, it was a servant and not a Princess. The Prince was drunk beyond belief, hanging onto you to keep him upright.

"My Lady," he bowed, his armor clinking, "allow me to take the Prince abed, you need not exert yourself so." He moved to grab Aegon, but you gave him a wry smile, shaking your head.

"I thank you, Ser Erryk, but it is alright. I can take care of him. I have readied many boys for bed in my lifetime, some even less cooperative than this one." You chuckled half-heartedly, shifting Aegon's weight in your arms. "If you could get the doors..." You gestured to the oak slabs in front of you, prompting him.

Erryk released a sharp "ah" in divulgence, realizing he had forgotten his manners. He knew better than anyone what the Princeling could be like when drunk, and he did not want you to become the next victim while under his watch. He followed behind the pair of you, ensuring you did not need further help and for your protection.

You plopped Aegon onto his bed, the white sheets unmade. As you looked around, you noted the rest of his room mirrored the condition of his place of rest.

Did servants refuse to come in here, or was it his choice to reside in such a haphazard living space, you thought. It was not your place to judge anyways. Your room could have been better, too, leaving stacks of books piled on tables and discarded gowns you did not pick for the day on chairs.

Aegon moaned and stretched on the mattress, still wearing the same clothes he had worn during the tourney. You yanked his dusty shoes off, slightly disgusted by the smell as you added to the mess in his room.

"Ser Erryk? Would you be so kind as to fetch a basin of water for our Grace? Oh," you paused, moving the hair that stuck to his sweaty face, "and some tea also? I am afraid he will be in much pain when he comes to."

"Yes, Princess." Erryk bowed stiffly, the half-melted candles reflecting on his shiny silver armor as he exited the room to fulfill your requests.

You gazed down at Aegon as he muttered something you couldn't understand, his lips in a pout. It was a relief that he was intoxicated in a way that made him completely forget anything that had happened around him. You hoped that the short-term memory loss would extend into the following morn. You didn't want to participate in his twisted desire for an unreserved apology.

It was not your fault that Ser Dalton Greyjoy had sought your favor. Nor was it when he declared that he intended to court you publicly. You had not asked for something like that to happen. If you were being truthful, you had wished for anything but that. You wanted the attention of the nobles at court, not the entire audience. It was supposed to be a day in which you made your first impressions of the royal court after years of residing on an island out to sea, establishing a strong presence in those who wished to doubt Rhaenyra's claim.

You had done that perfectly, perhaps a bit too well, because now there was a Lord with one of Westeros's largest navies seeking to court you. There was no doubt that Lord Dalton would make a good political match, but you had heard the rumors of how he treated his wives, and you were not eager to become a part of it, even if he took you as his Rock Wife. But that was no matter. It was not your choice to choose who you married. You would be lucky to secure such a match for your family, though you must consult with your Mother and Father before anything.

Shaking your head at the thoughts, you readied to undress the Prince, searching his large wardrobe for some night clothes. There was no time for wooing when there was a war being fought. You would worry about that after you had secured aid for Lord Corlys.

Aegon's body was limp and heavy as you attempted to pull him upright to remove his shirt. His flopping reminded you of the fish you would see thrown into barrels by the town folk at Dragonstone as you suppressed a giggle. You discarded his trousers and stockings, leaving him in nothing but his braies.

His body was bare for you as never before, and you couldn't resist inspecting his alabaster skin, glistening with sweat. His slightly defined pectorals stretched as he inhaled and exhaled deeply, nipples a bright and taught pink in the brisk air. His stomach was soft but hid a secret firmness underneath, with a stripe of light brown hairs trailing down into his undergarment. His thighs were cushioned with a pillow of white flesh and muscle, his tendons rippling every time he squirmed.

The drunk Prince liberated a moan bubbling in his chest and turned away from you. A frown tugged on your lips at his agonized state. His gut bloated from the honeyed mead he overindulged in, ready to burst at any moment.

"Aegon? My beloved little Prince," you gently nudged him to lay on his back. "Is my silly boy suffering the consequences of his actions?" you teased, earning an annoyed grunt from the sack of bones below.

A smirk pulled its way up as you leaned down, your lengthy braid falling over your shoulder and tickling his abdomen. You placed a taunting finger on his collarbone and glided it with a feather-like touch over his peaked nipple. You had no clue as to where this person came from. It was as if an unholy being had possessed you, puppeteering the unusual actions.

He jerked in response to your touch, hazy eyes shooting open as he watched you swirl the pink bud. Aegon sucked in a harsh breath as your nail scraped it, biting his wet lip as you moved to the other. You stared back into his darkened gaze, your smirk growing.

You were so lost in your torturing of the young royal that you didn't notice the sluggish hand tugging at your long hair, yanking you onto his torso. Quickly, whipping your head around, you removed your locks from his fist, shoving his arms above his head.

"You will not force yourself upon me, Aegon," you commanded sternly, forgetting the maternal facade. "If you dare ever to try something such as this again, I will fillet your cock and feed it to my dragon."

You released your iron grip on his wrists, standing straight with crossed arms. Surprisingly, your threats affected Aegon as his lip quivered, eyebrows furrowing like a child who had just been scolded, eyes welled with tears. Huffing at his immature actions, you tapped your foot, looking away.

Before you, he, or Erryk returning with supplies could react, Aegon rolled over the side of his feather tick mattress, vomiting all over your leather boots.

You jumped back as more orangish liquid spurted out of his gullet, yelping. You thanked the Old Gods and the New for deciding to wear your tallest riding shoes as you saw none of his gore splattered onto the fabric of your pants.

"Oh!" Aegon whimpered at the burn of his stomach, acid in his mouth and nose. "Forgive me," he simpered, reaching for your retreating form, falling off the bed.

Ser Erryk ran to the pathetic excuse for a royal on the floor, jumping back and wincing for him with clenched teeth. "It is quite well, my Prince. Please, stay-"

You cringed at the sudden smell of the digested mead, gagging as you chucked your boots out of the open chamber door, wildly flicking your hands and wiping them on a velvet green table runner.

"Your Grace!" Ser Erryk shouted in concern as Aegon dry heaved, helping him sit up.

Grabbing the basin of water, the Kingsguard had brought, you poured some into one of the many discarded chalices around the Prince's room, bringing it to his lips. He swallowed greedily and rinsed his mouth, spitting it on the floor without concern.

"Your Grace, are you well?" the guard asked.

Aegon turned his head towards Erryk with a sneer. "Does it look like I am?"

You had to hide the smile at his incredulity, eagerly finding a cloth and dampening it to wipe his chin and nose. Gathering the supplies Ser Erryk brought, you arranged them on Aegon's bedside table, trying to disappear. There were at least four cups filled with various measurements of liquid. Some looked like they had never been touched, others a quarter of the way empty and smelling rancidly sweet.

"Apologies, my Prince. It was not right of me to ask such ignorant questions," the Prince's sworn protector said and lowered his head.

"Of course, it wasn't you gormless twat. Help me to bed," Aegon sniggered, accepting Erryk's arm for support and adjusting himself on the bed.

The knight stood there once finished, his arms stiff at his sides as he looked between you and the intoxicated royal. You gave him a questioning look to the side as you rang out the cloth inside the bowl, putting your weight on the one pointer to balance yourself as you began to wipe the sweat and oil that had accumulated on the Prince's face. His stare was intense. It bored into your back and made the fine hairs on your neck prickle with unease as you rinsed out the rag and returned to cleaning.

"Ser Cargyll, you may go back to your duties," Aegon snipped, a scowl on his face as he watched him gaze upon your form. "Unless you have something more to add to the situation?"

Your sights snapped from the place you were rubbing to Aegon's face, giving him a look that only a mother could provide, warning him that his tone was bordering on being impolite.

"No, my Prince." Erryk bowed his head curtly. "I shall return to my post." Aegon huffed in reply, squirming like a petulant boy. "Should you need me," the guard's voice caught you off guard, sensing this was directed at you even though he did not say, "for anything at all; I will be here."

Aegon dismissed him with a tilt of his head as you ignored his ominous remarks, chewing your lip as you scrubbed his arm. Finally, the Kingsguard left, leaving you and the Prince alone for tonight's second period.

You were not as fearful as you were in the training yard and continued to clean his body, refusing to make conversation even though Aegon was bursting at the seams for it. From what rumors you heard, he had negated to control his urges in the past, especially when all his inhibitions were low. No matter how much he sulked, you would not give him a reason to act on them. If he were to continue to behave like a rotten prince, then you would make no move to treat him as anything less.

With each spell, Aegon's fingers reached for you like a babe would to someone's loose hair. You slapped him with the wet rag and fixed him with a searing glare. You managed to keep your hardened expression from fading until you scrubbed his foot, the look waning as his leg jerked reflexively and released a euphonic laugh. You tucked your lips in to keep a smile from forming, tightening your grip and yanking his foot back down.

"Oh! Little one, please stop!" Aegon snorted, bringing his knees to his chest.

He continued his giggles as you drug the cloth down his arch, trying to cover your amusement with a frown. You secured your hold again on his ankle firmly as you brought it back up, going in between his toes. And suddenly, without warning, Aegon's entire leg surged into your stomach, knocking the air out of you, losing your grip as you fell backward onto his bed, heaving.

"Apologies," Aegon burped, shuffling to the foot of his mattress to ensure you were well.

It took a full beat to regain your breath, staring wide-eyed at the candle chandelier that hung from the ceiling. The flames flickered on the support beams of his space, casting shadows in its yellow light on everything around. You've had the wind knocked out of your before. During training with Daemon, he often refused to consider your much shorter stature and inexperience despite your Mother's requisitions. More often than not, you would face the overcast sky, your digits digging into the sand as you gasped for air.

All of a sudden, a wicked idea came to your mind, moving your gaze to focus on Aegon as he stared down worriedly. Perhaps your Father's attitude influenced your thoughts as you sat up on your haunches, giving him a saccharine smile and assuring him you were well. He visibly calmed after that, letting his shoulders sag in relief as you took that as your moment to strike.

You pounced on Aegon, tackling him to the bed as you tickled his sides, counting his ribs with each quick stroke of your fingers. He kicked and squealed like a piglet that had been caught, breathlessly begging you to stop between giggles. You refused to listen, nuzzling your face into his hip as you continued your torture.

It felt like being a tot again, remembering how Lyra and Ma used to do the same to you just for fun. Such a simple, childish act brought you so much joy. Forgetting all the countless worries that weighed heavily on your shoulders. Forgetting all the wrong the Hightowers had done to you. You were happy. You were free. And what a joy it was to feel free.

You grinned at the Prince below you and caged him with your arms, straddling his waist as a sibling would do after a wrestling bout. In the back of your mind, you knew this could send the wrong message to Aegon, but you pushed it away, bringing a hand down to see if he was ticklish under his chin too. Sadly, he was not and only stared at you with twinkling violet eyes. Both of you basked in the carefree moment, ignoring every negative thing royal life brought. Your heart felt full of happiness, genuinely beaming for what felt like the first time here.

You recognized that Aegon had enough of your jesting as his eyelids began to droop, one of the many side effects of the firewater. You moved your legs off his waist and rolled next to him, sighing in contentment as your cheeks ached from joy.

With a lull in the merriment, you thought back to when you had first seen Aegon in the unlighted training yard, tears streaming down his face from a sadness that was inadvertently your fault. You reached over to him, gliding your fingers against the creamy cotton sheets as you gently took his hand. You rubbed soothing touches onto his pale knuckles as your smiles faded into something more serine.

"You must comprehend that I couldn't refuse Ser Greyjoy's advancements," you expressed, wetting your lips as you inhaled. "My mere existence brings humiliation upon my family, and I do not desire to add further reasons to it."

"We are both alike in that way," Aegon soughed as you turned to look at him. "We are the problem children that the court foams at the mouth just to get a glance at them. When you have lived with it for so long, you learn to tune them out, but one can only tolerate so much. In that short period of time when I drink, it helps me forget... Helps me forget that I am a shame to my family."

You gave Aegon an empathetic regard, pursing your lips as you held his hand tighter. You knew exactly how he felt.

"But my drinking," he paused to gain the courage to say his following words, "it... causes me to do terrible things. I-I know it is not entirely its fault; I am the one who chooses to do it, but I cannot face the reality that I live. It is too much, and when I saw that man taking the one thing that gives me that gladness I crave... I-I couldn't stop myself."

Aegon unexpectedly turned to you, snatching your jaw and stealing your breath with his clammy fingers as he brought your face millimeters from his own. "I wanted to prove to you, to myself, that you were mine. That you were meant for me and no one else."

Your ears burned with his confession behind his earlier actions, helpless just like before as his hand slid to your throat. You could not stop the silent moan that opened your lips, bringing your own up to grip his platinum roots.

Though it had been multiple years, you had felt this before, the warm tingling feeling in your lower belly and womanhood. It had been with him in the past. The first man to show you what life had to offer, the first man to give you the pleasures you had only heard. It seemed fitting to be like this with Aegon like you were back home on Dragonstone with a fluffy pillow between your legs as you curled into him.

This time, you made the first leap, leaning forward and connecting his lips with your own. A natural feeling came to you, caressing his tongue with yours as you swung your legs to straddle his waist. Your hips moved independently, knowing precisely what you needed without thinking. Judging by the deep groan that Aegon released, he needed it too.

His hands swept down your structure and rested on the fabric bunched at your hips, aiding the delicious dragging of your clothed mound against his manhood. He knew he could come undone with only this. It was pathetic when he thought about it. That the mere gyration of your pelvis on his cock could send him spilling in his braies like a lad who has just seen a pair of tits for the first time, but in the same thought, he loved feeling so utterly pitiful. At the mercy of his darling little girl, though, you appeared as anything but as you opened the clasps of your coat.

Despite the steady breeze that swept through the cracks, it had become stuffy in Aegon's chambers. That was the only reason you shed layer upon layer of clothing until you were in nothing but the breast binder you wore to keep things in place and your trousers. Aegon followed your lips each time you pulled away, chasing the delectable essence that were you.

You could feel the beads of perspiration dripping down the back of your neck and dampening your hairline. They followed the downward slope to your chest and collected in the valley your binder created. Aegon noted each drop's path, licking the salty liquid from where they stopped and went back to your mouth.

The pleasure that mounted from the rhythmic friction on your pearl was not noticeable at first, gradually building into a deep fervency as delicate breathy moans escaped your throat and into the Prince's hair. He sucked on the plush protruding globe of your tits, soothing the irritated flesh with his wet tongue. Your nails dug into his moist scalp with every delightful yet arduous ministration he did, bucking his hips up into yours.

You and Aegon had moved from the caged place you were in initially, resting into a comfortable upright one with his back resting against the headboard. His covered cock was your seat as you kept your now twitching hips moving against him, conceding what was about to happen from the few experiences you had.

Aegon understood without communication, firmly thrusting upwards to add that extra stimulation you both required, and finally, you snapped.

A wave of heat washed over your limbs as you came undone, whimpering your partner's name into the sky. It felt like the first dip into a tepid bath after a long day of work, finally relaxing your muscles and letting go of the tension you held for the day.

Aegon followed moments after, his paunch tensing as he spilled his hot, white seed into the fabric of his underwear. He had made you come before, many years ago, on a night he replayed over and over whenever you were apart, but this felt so much different than then. You were a woman now, blossoming over him like the first bud of spring and descanting his name like a songbird at dawn.

At this moment, the drunken dastard of a Prince had felt what it was to be happy once more. His arms crushing his face into the vast expanse of your bosom, your nimble digits raking through his silver-blonde hair as you caught your breaths. As you brought Aegon closer to you, nuzzling your cheek onto the crown of his head, a knock cut through the large oak door.

You froze against him, a chill of clarity and rash regret running down your spine. Quickly and with a severe lack of grace, you untangled from the eldest Prince, scrambling to find your discarded shirt on the other side of the room.

In your panic, you tripped over a half-empty pitcher, wincing as it knocked with several other cups. You desperately tried to put them upright but only bumped more in your haste, cringing at the loud noises through your teeth.

"My Prince," a female voice called from the other side, " I have the tea you requested."

This wasn't you. Why were you bumbling around the room like a drunk harlot, frantically adjusting your wrinkled shirt?

"Thank you," Aegon answered tightly as he glanced at you with a raised brow. "You may leave it by the door."

The servant replied with a murmured acknowledgment, placing the silver tray down with a soft clink through the door.

Aegon had brought noble women into his bed many times. The servants would not think twice if they saw a disheveled woman in his chambers; that was a near-everyday occurrence. It confused him why you would be so embarrassed when you both had done nothing wrong. Your maidenhead was still intact, much to his dismay. He hadn't even seen your tits, for Gods' sake!

After the maid left, you exhaled a sigh of relief, resting a palm on your fluttering heart to calm yourself. What were you thinking? Displaying your body nearly bare for a Prince with a loose reputation? That was the issue there. You were not thinking. Not an unmarried question came to mind when his lips were on yours. It was as if the unmitigated touch of his skin made you lose all consciousness, only focusing on Aegon and only Aegon.

This was not part of your plan. You did admit that you have to do things you didn't want to and came to terms with it, but it never occurred to you that there was the possibility you would like it. That you would be the whore who chased after his mouth and moaned his name. It was supposed to be Aegon like this, not you. Where had it gone all wrong?

Once you regained what sliver of confidence you had left, you picked up the tray of steeping tea and the two cups on ceramic saucers, carrying them over to his bed and placing them on the empty side. You poured some for Aegon, the steam swirling into the air from the spout as you gave it to him. You didn't want to stay longer than necessary. The revelation that Aegon did not force himself upon you and that what transpired was made by your own decisions sent you spiraling.

This wasn't right. It couldn't be right.

You moved the basin of water that was now empty off his nightstand, replacing it with the tray. With a solid second wind, you faced Aegon, clasping your hands behind your back as he sipped at the scalding liquid.

"I shall take my leave, Prince Aegon. It was a pleasure to spend a moment alone with you. I pray that you forgive me for my transgression at the tourney" Your voice was delicate, like a melody his favorite bard sang, but held an icy edge. You had reverted to the tone used when addressing the folks at court as if you were not speaking to your sweet Prince.

Aegon reached his hand out, attempting to grasp yours, but you stepped away, staring down at him with impassiveness. "Won't you stay for a while more, my pretty girl? There is another cup for you, and I simply cannot finish this tea all by my lonesome," he pleaded, eyes a shimmering purple jewel.

"I am afraid not, my Prince. The hour has grown late, and it would be inappropriate for a maiden to extend my night here," you replied with an unwavering cool. "Good night, Prince Aegon. I shall see you the following evening at your name day feast." You curtsied despite not having a skirt, stiffly bowing your head as you backed away.

"Please."

Aegon's beseeching tone made you pause, curling your fists until your nails dug crescents in your palms.

"Please. Don't leave me again."

You turned to face him once more, your heart cracking at the desperation in his voice. Aegon held so much despair inside, burying it in a lecherous facade of wine and women. It ruined you to hear him speak in such a way.

You thought once, twice, thrice, blinking each time as your mouth opened and closed with unsaid words before you managed to speak—a voice sounding not of your own when you did.

"You will see me at the celebration tomorrow, my Lord. I bid you a good night."

You only bowed your head in farewell, knowing in your mind that this was the correct choice, but every fiber of your being telling you it was not. You walked to his chamber doors and closed them behind you with a dull thud, sinking your teeth into your lip as you prayed to the Seven.

The Maiden to protect your virtue from your actions. The Crone to give you the wisdom to do what is right. The Smith to help you create the powerful alliance you know that House Greyjoy will be. The Mother to give you the strength to let Aegon do what he needs to reach your goals. The Warrior to ensure that Alicent and Otto Hightower reap what they have sown. The Father to give his divine justice for Lyra and Sara, and the Stranger to ensure that if your plans fail, your death is swift.

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Thank you for reading, and I'm so sorry for the wait! I'm a working girl! I promise the next chapter will be the feast. It will probably be long, with lots of sexual tension and juicy Targaryen drama. It's just a bit of fun before the real storm happens. ;)

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[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Perzys se Rūkla (Fire and Flowers) - Chapter Four

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x original female character (Melessa Tyrell) Warnings: Smut, mentions of death, angst, mentions of infidelity. Word count: ~3.5k

Chapter summary: Shocking news means Daemon and Melessa must return to the capital. Series summary here.

Endless thanks and all the love to my absolute ride or die @em-writes-stuff-sometimes for cheerleading, beta'ing and just generally being the bestest fandom boo a gal could have. Squishes also to @ruby-dragon and @valeskafics for providing support when I was outlining this chapter.

Author's note: No gods, no masters, no tag lists. Only scabs community label fics. If you find yourself tempted to slap a label on this, please block me instead.

Header by the insanely talented @em-writes-stuff-sometimes

I love you. I love you. I love you.

It tumbles freely from Melessa’s lips over the first six months of their marriage. With every day that passes, it becomes easier for Daemon to hear. The first time he takes her to meet Caraxes, his large hand covers hers completely as she holds out trembling fingers to touch the great, red beast’s snout. She looks up at Daemon, a bright smile upon her face despite the palpable fear in her big, blue eyes, and utters those three little words to him. He squeezes her hand ever so gently, but does not say it back.

He takes her flying, and she screams bloody murder, turning backwards to bury her face in his chest at the turbulent ride that dragonback provides. He wraps his arms tighter around her waist and, eventually, she relaxes back against him. Daemon is certain she endures it more than she enjoys it. Her pulse is racing when he takes her arm to help her out of the saddle once they have landed. Yet, still, she murmurs a breathless declaration of love to him, which he rewards with a gentle kiss to her forehead.

When he senses she is missing Highgarden, he arranges to have a rose garden built upon the grounds of Dragonstone. Daemon knows nothing of flowers, is unsure if they will survive the climate on the island, and yet none of that seems to matter as she gazes up at him with that grin, soil dusted over her hands and cheeks from pruning the bushes, and tells him she loves him.

He is no longer stricken by panic at the ease with which she tells him this. He grows to expect it, coveting the warmth that spreads through his chest when she tucks her head beneath his chin and whispers it sleepily before drifting off each evening. He never returns the sentiment. Daemon is not one for words of affirmation, but he cannot deny that for the first time in a long time he feels genuine happiness.

Heat of another kind unfurls within him as Melessa lays beneath him, one leg placed haphazardly over his shoulder as he thrusts into her tight wet heat. Such pretty sounds she makes for him, her eyes glassy with tears as he splits her open. Daemon would usually have tired of a woman after this length of time together, but gods, her cunt. He cannot get enough of her. She is all too obliging of his appetite. As her release makes her tighten and spasm around him, he is pushed over the edge himself, spilling inside of her with a groan. He collapses against her, breathing in the scent of almond oil and rosewater, which has grown to be a familiar comfort.

Once he rolls off of her and pulls her to his chest, he is tempted to drift back into slumber for a few more hours. The sun has not long risen and they have nowhere to be. As he is about to let his eyes flutter shut, a sharp knock at the chamber door startles him out of his doze.

Melessa grouses beside him, already half asleep herself, as he disentangles himself and rises from the bed. Slipping into a robe without bothering to fasten it, he stalks toward the door, throwing it open and glaring at the maester who has dared to disturb them.

The elderly man’s eyes go wide as he takes in Daemon’s state of undress, shifting uncomfortably and averting his gaze.

Daemon scoffs. “What is it? Or have you just come to take a look at my cock?”

“N-no, Your Highness,” he stutters. “There was a raven - it’s a message for you. It bears the royal seal.”

Daemon snatches the parchment from the maester before slamming the door in his face. He studies the wax stamped with the three-headed dragon, then turns it over. His name is in handwriting he’d recognise anywhere; Rhaenyra’s. He’s had no news from King’s Landing since he and Melessa were wed. A sinking feeling in his stomach accompanies the overwhelming sense that this won’t bear pleasant tidings.

Father is dead. Come home.

It is as though he has forgotten how to breathe as he reads it over and over. His eyes burn, the words beginning to lose all meaning.

“What is it?” Melessa asks sleepily, her words snapping him out of his trancelike state. She sits up slowly, rubbing her eyes.

“I have to go back to King’s Landing,” he replies flatly. “My brother’s dead.”

She hurries to climb from the bed, standing in front of him and taking his hands in hers. “Oh, Daemon… I am so sorry.”

He nods solemnly, his thumbs rubbing absentmindedly over the backs of her hands. “I will leave within the hour. I’ll come back as soon as I can.”

She shakes her head, her expression earnest. “You aren’t leaving me here by myself. I’m coming with you.”

He huffs a small laugh. Stubborn little thing. Of course she wouldn’t allow him to leave without her. “Then ready yourself to leave within the hour too.”

“What of our belongings?”

“What about them?”

“You can’t carry everything on Caraxes. You won’t be returning here, not now you’re Hand of the Queen.”

The stark realisation hits him almost as hard as the news of Viserys passing. Rhaenyra’s succession had been the very last thing on his mind. His time with Melessa on Dragonstone has come to an end. They’re returning to King’s Landing for good. The thought makes him want to crumple up his niece’s message and pretend he never saw it.

Yet half a day later, they are landing in the capital, Daemon helping Melessa down from the saddle of his Blood Wyrm as she trembles like a leaf. Their entire lives have been packed up and loaded onto a ship which will arrive later. He is struck by overwhelming admiration for his wife’s courage to endure an experience that terrifies her so much, simply for the sake of being at his side. He clutches her warmly against him as Caraxes is led away into the Dragonpit, their final moment of it just being the two of them.

Melessa is taken to get settled within their quarters, while Daemon meets with Rhaenyra. The Silent Sisters have already finished their preparation of Viserys. The body is wrapped and prepared for burning. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. He looks upon it, brow furrowed in sadness and disbelief that what lays before him was once his own brother.

“It is better that you didn’t see him before,” Rhaenyra says gently, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with him. “He was not a man you’d have recognised. I scarcely did.”

“Did they do this?” he asks, not looking at her. His meaning is clear.

Rhaenyra sighs. “You saw how he was the last time you were here. As much as Alicent and Otto want Aegon on the throne, this wasn’t their doing.”

“Has there been any discussion as to the succession?” He turns to her, scrutinising the uncomfortable look that passes across her face.

“It has been difficult enough just to get them to agree to have Syrax burn father’s body. They have been pushing for Sunfyre.”

“Rhaenyra - this is your birthright!” His voice raises, his nostrils flaring with anger. “As soon as the funeral is over, we will deal with the matter of your coronation. Those that oppose it will die screaming.”

A heavy silence falls between the two of them. In it, Daemon contemplates all he has given up in order to support his niece. He longs to turn on his heel and flee back to Dragonstone, back to the life of quiet solitude he’d shared with Melessa; but he cannot abandon his niece. Not a second time. Resentment settles within him, dark and ugly and overshadowing his grief. All of this would be easier were it not for the fucking Hightowers. He will have Otto’s head for this.

The funeral is a tense affair. Alicent stands solemnly off to the side with her children, none of whom look particularly upset, just uncomfortable. Otto is beside her, his expression unreadable. Daemon has asked Melessa not to come, telling her that it was something she was better off not seeing. He regrets that decision. As he watches a tearful Rhaenyra surrounded by Laenor and her children, he cannot shake the feeling of loneliness that overwhelms him. He is with his family, yet none of them are a comfort. The flames of Syrax engulf his brother’s corpse and Daemon is lost, longing for the softness of his wife’s hand in his, and the words he has spent half a year growing so fond of. I love you.

The ashes of Viserys are not yet cold when a meeting of the Small Council is called. Tthe collective mood around the table is sour.

“My father named me heir. There is little to discuss,” Rhaenyra tells those gathered. Her tone is cool, though her discomfort is more than apparent.

“Viserys asked for Aegon to be crowned before he passed,” comes Alicent’s soft rebuttal.

“Lying cunt!” Daemon spits across the table at her, white hot rage causing him to clench his fists as he glares at her. The ceaseless politicking is a waste of his time - he could cut through half the room with Dark Sister using little to no effort.

“Regardless of what has been said, the fact of the matter is that the people of the Seven Kingdoms will never accept a woman as their ruler. I urge you to see reason,” Otto says matter-of-factly, his attention focused solely on Rhaenyra.

“Then we shall let the people decide,” she shrugs, sitting back and crossing her arms. “Put it to a vote, as it was for Father and Rhaenys.”

“Rhaenyra, no!” Daemon urges from across the table. “You cannot put the claim of your birthright into the hands of fucking halfwits!”

Daemon is no fool, he knows that Otto is right. The people would sooner see his drunken, useless idiot of a nephew sit the Iron Throne than allow a woman to take it. She is sure to lose this.

“I am the Realm’s Delight, am I not?” she retorts. “Put it to a vote.”

“Very well,” Otto concedes, a look of smug satisfaction settling across his features. “A vote it is.”

Standing so abruptly it causes his chair to clatter backwards onto the flagstone floor, Daemon storms from the Council chambers, his fist wrapped tightly around the pommel of his sword. He has heard enough.

He seeks out Melessa, hoping the sight of his pretty little wife will calm him, and finds her in the gardens reclining on a bench, her face turned up towards the sun with her eyes closed. She is wearing the backless gown she had on the day he met her. This is the first time he has seen her in it since then. Watching her like this, basking in the warmth of the afternoon with such a genuine smile upon her lips, is a stark contrast to the way she shivers and wraps herself in furs on Dragonstone. Daemon wonders if the happiness he felt between them is entirely one-sided. She looks so… carefree. He decides not to disturb her, walking away with the uneasy sense that he has spent half a year making this poor woman miserable.

The days that follow pass miserably for Daemon as the votes are gathered by raven throughout Westeros on the matter of the succession to the Iron Throne. The waiting is insufferable. Daemon feels as though he is grieving his closeness with Melessa as well as the death of the brother he’d hardly seen for over a decade.

Every time he seeks her out, she is laughing with ladies of the court, walking in the gardens or otherwise occupied, girlish exuberance radiating from her. He wonders if he has ever made her that happy - if he ever will. He isn’t worthy of her purity, her goodness, and being here is a constant reminder of that. She seems so at ease, and he despises it. He feels like a stranger stalking the halls.

She still snuggles tightly against his chest each night and he clings selfishly to her, eager to hang on to what little remains of their isolation on Dragonstone. When he fucks her, her cries echo throughout the Keep, tears of overstimulation rolling down her cheeks. He is rougher with her than usual, and he is all too aware of the fact he is taking his jealousy and frustration out on her, but he cannot help himself. There is a part of him that longs to hurt her for daring to be content in the capital when he is not.

After a week, all of the necessary votes have been collected and counted and the Royal Court gathers in the Great Hall. Rhaenyra stands to the right of the Iron Throne, flanked by Laenor. Jacaerys, Lucerys and Joffrey gaze up at her with hopeful, expectant eyes from the front of the gathered crowd, watched over by the mindful presence of Ser Harwin Strong.

Aegon stands to the left, his slouched posture making it seem as though he’d rather be anywhere else. Helaena is next to him, though no trace of warmth or affection passes between the two. Her floppy demeanour and dreamy expression are indicative that while she is physically present, her mind is somewhere else entirely.

Daemon scoffs in disgust. Gods help them all if the vote goes as he expects it to.

Alicent and Otto are directly opposite, at the head of the gathered audience. Otto appears haughty and smug, while Alicent’s brows are pinched together in anxiety, her fingers picking her nails bloody. A tall, slim brunette girl stands beside Aemond, who appears rakish as ever. It seems no time had been wasted in replacing Melessa.

He feels his wife’s small hand reach out and give his own a reassuring squeeze as the chest that will reveal the outcome of the realm’s act of democracy is carried forth. Looking down at her, a wave of shame washes over him. Her bright eyes are filled with adoration as she gazes up at him. He has spent a week resenting her when all she has done is support him. He turns his attention back to the chest that is now being placed before the throne, unable to stand what he feels when he meets her eye.

He bows his head as it’s opened. He cannot bear to see Rhaenyra’s face when Aegon’s name is read.

Rhaenyra Targaryen.

What? 

Daemon is a difficult man to shock, and yet his jaw drops as he hears his niece’s name called out. She beams proudly as her children whoop and cheer in celebration. Melessa joins in, clapping happily with a wide smile upon her face.

Daemon smirks as he looks across to see the shocked look on Otto’s face. He will take great delight in unburdening the old cunt’s shoulders of his head. Alicent looks as though she will burst into tears, while Aemond’s jaw tenses in displeasure. Aegon, on the other hand, appears relieved at the announcement; his shoulders visibly relax for the first time since he entered the Great Hall. His moonstruck sister-wife applauds next to him, apparently unaware of what this news means for her immediate family.

Though Daemon is pleased for his niece, his disposition darkens further as the days press on and he learns of her plans to allow Alicent and her children to remain in residence at the Red Keep.

“I have not forgotten the love I have for Alicent,” she tells him. “The Targaryen family is stronger united than it is divided.”

At the tearful pleas of Alicent, Otto’s life is spared and he is exiled from King’s Landing, returning to Oldtown. Daemon is enraged at being denied the opportunity to execute him. He has barely begun his duties as Hand of the Queen and already he feels powerless. Worse still, Rhaenyra’s reasoning for sparing his life makes perfect sense - there is no hope of a peaceful alliance between her and the former Queen if she has her father killed. He hates that she is right.

The atmosphere at Rhaenyra’s coronation is jubilant. He knows he should play the part of proud uncle as she is crowned. However, when he is passed the golden Hand brooch, he feels as though he is being fettered and chained to a city he hates. The weight of it pinned to his breast is like an albatross around his neck. 

Melessa is as adoring as ever and he finds himself bristling at her gentle touches and loving looks. He does not deserve her admiration or her love, and now that he no longer has her all to himself, he knows it won’t be long until she realises the same thing. He has everything he’s ever wanted; the perfect wife, the position his brother had always denied him, and yet none of it feels remotely satisfying. Nothing has gone the way he wants it to.

He glowers over his wine cup at the celebration feast. The only people still seated are him and Melessa, as well as Aemond and the woman he has since learned is Aemond’s wife, Floris Baratheon, the result of a hasty marriage arranged by Borros and Otto in order to get Storm’s End on side when it was still intended for Aegon to take the throne. A wasted endeavour. Daemon wonders if they are as unhappy together as they look.

“Dance with me?” Melessa asks hopefully, the brush of her fingertips against his forearm snapping him from his darkened reverie.

He softens as he looks at her, guilt washing over him. She must be bored stiff, but he is in no mood for festivities. “Not now, petal.” He offers as kindly as he can muster, not missing her downcast, disappointed expression.

“Uncle, might I trouble your wife for a dance?”

He looks over as Rhaenyra’s eldest son, Jacaerys, hovers by Melessa expectantly.

“If my lady wife has no objections, then I suppose you may.” He waves his hand dismissively as she rises from her seat, walking arm-in-arm with his nephew towards the centre of the room.

He watches them intently as they move. He doesn’t miss the way they smile at each other, the sound of her laughter carries, and once more he finds himself wondering if he has ever made her that happy. Acrid jealousy begins in his chest and rises in his throat as he watches the way their hands linger on each other.

He knows it is just dancing, knows that he agreed to this, and yet he cannot help the angry scowl that pinches at his brow. They are much more appropriate in age for each other - would Melessa be better suited to someone like him? Perhaps it is his lot to stand powerless as Rhaenyra’s hand and watch his wife slip away from him, into the arms of another.

Desperate for distraction, he leaves the table, grabbing the nearest serving girl as he storms from the hall.

“With me,” he commands lowly, his intentions more than apparent.

She nods and follows as he drags her to the nearest alcove, well away from the celebrations. He makes quick work of unlacing his breeches and pushing her skirts up, not bothering to take the time to properly look at her face or commit to memory what she looks like. It doesn’t matter; she doesn’t matter. He just needs the thoughts to stop.

As he leans in, inhaling, the smell of the kitchens and stale wine fills his nostrils. He has grown so used to the scent of almond oil and rosewater, the difference is jarring and the sharp comprehension of what he’s doing, who he’s doing it with, hits him. His cock softens before he’s even had a chance to press inside of the girl he has pinned against him. He slams his hand angrily against the wall beside her head.

Foolish. Foolish. Foolish.

He should not be doing this. Melessa does not deserve this. He pulls away, unable to look at the poor girl he has inflicted himself upon.

A gasp causes him to turn as he moves to tuck himself away. He feels like his heart stops. He has spent the last couple of weeks wondering if he has ever made his wife happy, but knows at this moment he has never made her look this hurt.

Her blue eyes stare at him, shocked and filled with tears. The plushness of her bottom lip trembles. The sight of it is too much. He reaches for her, and she hiccups a sob, turning and running from him.

He stands rooted to the spot, wanting to go after her but unable to as the realisation dawns too late.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

[ladamedusoif]

Masterlist

Header - and slogan - by @agentjackdaniels

Hi there! I’m Rose (she/her/they), I’m 40 and I write fics - described with complete accuracy as “ethical porn for nerdy types” - for Pedro Pascal characters.

This is an 18+ blog so, for safety’s sake, minors should not access the content below.

I love hearing from readers! All comments, reblogs, likes, DMs, and asks are very much appreciated.

If you’d like to be notified about new fics and instalments, please follow my writing blog @ladameecrit - taglists aren’t working well at the moment so this is the easiest way to keep up.

I also cross-publish to AO3 if that's your preferred reading platform.

I do block empty/untitled/ageless blogs so, if that’s you and you’re a real person, just drop me a message - or, better still, populate your blog (you don’t need to be totally specific about your age) with a few things. If you’re not sure how, just ask! I’m happy to help and I’m sure others will be too!

Thank you so much for reading!

Visiting (Professor!Ben College AU - in progress)

Pairing: Professor!Ben x OFC Lydia (reader POV/2nd POV)

Summary: Seeking a change of scenery after her life falls apart, European art historian Lydia crosses the Atlantic and arrives in the small New England college town of Barrow. She’s planning to spend a year there on leave of absence from her permanent job at home, expanding her intellectual horizons as a visiting professor at Barrow College, a small liberal arts institution. Her growing friendship with Ben Morales, professor of Hispanic Literature, forces Lydia to confront the fallout from her past - and raises unexpected questions about the future.

Rating: Explicit (18+)

See the main Series Masterlist for specific warnings and content notes.

Tempered in the Fire (Blacksmith!Din Djarin AU short series - in progress)

Pairing: Blacksmith!Din Djarin x F!Reader

Summary: Ireland, almost a decade after the rebellion of 1798. You are an unusual woman: married, but alone; a widow, with no certainty her husband is dead. When your local blacksmith is badly injured in an accident and unable to work, you have no choice but to travel to the next forge, run by a man of few words whose uncertain origins and dark complexion make him stand out among the locals. You are immediately intrigued by this mysterious, taciturn figure - and the striking little boy he’s taken as his apprentice.

Rating: Mature (series); Explicit (18+, later chapters)

See the Series Masterlist for specific warnings and content notes.

Gentleman Thief - The Heritage Crimes Universe (The Thief (Casillero del Diablo) - in progress)

Pairing: The Thief (Casillero del Diablo) x F!Museum Professional Reader

Summary: He stole a priceless ruby after your first date. You reunited after the museum's winter ball. And now? Something keeps pulling you into the orbit of the world's greatest (ethical) gentleman thief.

Rating: Explicit (18+)

See the Series Masterlist for specific warnings and notes.

A Merry Fic-Mas - a Pedro Boys Holiday Fic Calendar

31 days. 31 stories (hopefully). 12 Pedro characters.

Inspired by this set of December/holiday themed prompts.

Rating: Teen/Mature/Explicit (see individual chapters for warnings and content notes).

20/20 - no outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

Pairing: No Outbreak!Joel Miller x Optometrist F!Reader

Summary: After months of pestering from Sarah, Joel finally concedes that he might to get his eyesight checked and makes an appointment at your optometrist practice. He really doesn’t want glasses, though.

Rating: 18+; not explicit as such but implied; see the warnings on the original story

Café Crème - Javier Peña x f!reader

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary: Your boyfriend Javier likes mornings at your place for more than just coffee.

Rating: Explicit (18+, MDNI; see more notes on the original post)

A Cup of Kindness, Yet - Javier Peña x f!Reader

Part of the brilliant @pickled-pena writing challenge - check out the blog for the whole masterlist.

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Summary: Another Auld Lang Syne in Laredo, twenty years after your first with Javi.

Rating: Teen (see notes and warnings on the original)

My Kiss, Only For You - The Thief x Museum Guide f!reader

Pairing: The Thief (Casillero del Diablo) x Museum Guide F!Reader

Summary: You’ve noticed a regular attendee on the guided tours you offer as part of your job at the museum - and one day, he decides to ask you for more information on his favourite exhibit.

Rating: Explicit (18+, MDNI; see more notes on the original)

For the Night - Special Agent Ortega x F!Sex Worker Reader

Pairing: Agent Ortega (The Sixth Gun) x F!Sex Worker Reader

Summary: You might not be one of the “sweet young things” in the whorehouse any more, but a seemingly reluctant special agent helps remind you of your worth.

Rating: Explicit, 18+ (see specific warnings on the post).

Silvered - Detective Tim Rockford x F!Reader

Pairing: Tim Rockford x f!reader

Word count: ~ 800 words

Rating: Explicit (18+; MDNI; see specific warnings on the story)

Summary: Tim Rockford’s talented silver tongue has a reputation, in more ways than one.

Gentleman Cowboy - Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x F!Reader

Pairing: Jack “Whiskey” Daniels/Agent Whiskey x F!Reader

Word count: 3500 words

Rating: Explicit, 18+ MDNI; see specific warnings on the story

Summary: A solo getaway, a whiskey for one, and a very charming cowboy in the big city.

Able - Joel Miller x Disabled F!Reader

Pairing: Joel Miller x Disabled F!Reader

Summary: "I just don't think she'll be able for patrol". But then it's just you, Joel, and your trusty walking stick in the middle of nowhere...

Rating: Mature; 18+ MDNI; reader is disabled; see more specific warnings on the story.

Word Count: ~3.7k

Room Service - Dave York x F! Reader

Pairing: Dave York x F!Reader

Summary: You’re at one of those generic conference hotels to meet a man you know only as Dave.

Rating: Explicit 18+ MDNI; more specific warnings on the story

Word Count: ~2.3k

Coup de Foudre - Lucien Flores x F!Reader

Pairing: Lucien Flores x F!Reader

Summary: Caught in a sudden storm on a break in Paris, you and Lucien race back to the hotel room.

Rating: Explicit 18+ MDNI; specific warnings on the story

Word Count: ~1.1k

Part of the April Showers Challenge organised by @undercoverpena

[ashensgrotto]

Ashensgrotto's Master list

I've decided to write out a master list of all of my writings as well as ones that are a work in progress (WIP). Here, you will have links to all of my stories as well as link to several Ao3 exclusives (because, honestly, I can't post everything on here.)

The following stories and their links are works of fiction. I disagree anyone that justifies the following behaviors which are represented in these stories that are, but not limited to: rape/non-consent/dub-consent, possessive/controlling/dominating behaviors, and manipulation.

I advise anyone under the age of eighteen NOT to interact with this blog.

Twisted Wonderland

Yandere Soulmate AU (Azul Ashengrotto)

Am I Feeling Love?

Protective

Poor Unfortunate Souls (Part A & Part B)

Never Had a Friend (Like Me) Part A , Part B , & Part C

Beauty in the Eye of the Beholder - TBA

Hero to Zero - TBA

Once Upon a Dream - TBA

The Sea's Sacrifice (Octrio)

A Merfolk's Melody (Octrio)

Raison D’être (Azul Ashengrotto) - Ao3 Exclusive, WIP

Aequoreal (Octrio) - WIP

The Promises We Made (Azul Ashengrotto) - WIP

Legs and Tentacles (Azul Ashengrotto) - TBA

Weren't You Aware, Angelfish? (Azul Ashengrotto)

Other Stories

Monsters of the Mind (At Dead of Night OC x Character) - Ao3 Exclusive

For the Departed (Disney's Phantom Manor/Haunted Mansion) - Ao3 Exclusive, WIP

Pumpkin Eater (An Original Story) - Ao3 Exclusive

Monophobia (A Short Story/Poem)

The Vampire's Rose (An Original Story, Part 1 of The Twisted Tales Trilogy) - Ao3 Exclusive

The Wolf's Ruby Veil (Original Story, Part 2 of the Twisted Tales Trilogy) - Ao3 Exclusive, WIP

Headcannons/Asks

Yandere Overblot Boys Part 1 & Part 2

[littlejuicebox]

Caught between comfort and chaos

(Astarion x F!OC)

-----

Chapter number: Two Themes: BG3, slow burn, original female character x astarion, dialogue heavy, mostly canon behavior Masterlist: Click here. Notes: I know only a few people have seen part 1, but these little pieces of the story keep playing in my head. I always welcome feedback and suggestions. If anyone is seeing this, hope you enjoy! Please leave a comment to let me know your thoughts/give feedback. It inspires me to keep writing in to the void. :)

----

Karlach and Gale made quick work of washing themselves up before they made their way back to camp, located less than half a mile away. The wizard and tiefling — self-appointed head chef and sous-chef... and did that make Astarion the sommelier? — had much work to do for dinner preparations in the next hour. The sun was just starting to kiss the horizon in its descent towards night. Everyone would be hungry soon. Everyone... instead of just the rabid rogue that carried an insatiable ball of hunger in the pit of his stomach every step of the way.

Not one to particularly enjoy the group activity of preparing a meal that he wouldn’t dare touch — even if he could — Astarion had offered to stay behind with their leader. Mostly to get out of having to help the others, and partly because he found he’d seemed to enjoy the ranger’s company just a bit more than he enjoyed the others. Though, to be fair, the bar was insufferably low.

“You know, you really can be quite the tactician.” The pale elf mused, standing on the banks of the river, arms crossed, trousers rolled up around the calf, as he eyed his female companion. A sly smirk danced across his lips as Wren scrubbed at the mud that practically coated her face and arms. “And… honestly, darling? Quite the klutz.”

“You’re lucky it was me, and not you, you fool! At least Gale’s feather fall spell prevented the worst of the damage.” The little bird chirped, her tone jagged with shards of irritation. If looks could kill, and the vampire weren’t already undead, the scalding eyes she focused on him would’ve ended his life right there.

“Had that damned phase spider shoved you off the crag instead of me, I’m not so sure Gale would’ve bothered to wave his hand your way — he’s still irritated that I’ve gone and given you that stupid book, you know — and then that poor pretty face of yours would’ve been smashed to bits! So, Astarion, what I really should get is a thank you for intercepting that thing. You’d been so distracted during the whole blasted affair — Karlach was fighting off the hatchlings practically alone up there for half the encounter!” The frustration bubbled over Wren as she washed her skin, angry patches of red appearing on her freckled arms.

Astarion knew she was right, of course... he’d been distracted. When one of the arachnid hatchlings sunk their fangs into Wren’s arm earlier today, the smell of her blood consumed his senses. He had been wrestling with the unbearable desire to sink his own fangs into her neck. It had taken everything in him to control his urge. But he couldn’t tell Wren that — she and her other little followers would finally see him for the danger he was and run him off. Gods, he was so hungry, and the memory of her taste was so tempting that even now his senses were primarily focused on the remnants of dried blood she angrily swiped off her skin.

“Darling! So, you finally admit it! You think I’m pretty.” He twisted his words against her like one of his expertly wielded daggers, a carefully crafted deflection. He won a small creep of rosiness stretched across her neck. His white brow lifted in its signature cockiness as he held her gaze. ‘It really is all too easy….’ He chuckled to himself, proud of his tactic. Ruby eyes glossed down the brunette's face, to the crest of her collarbone, where her blush slowly rose up her neck.

'Tempting...' But no, he couldn’t. She hadn’t offered since that first time, and surely another mishap like that would leave him cast aside and utterly unprotected in the wilds he knew nothing about. He needed her influence in the group and her expansive knowledge of the wild terrain, which she navigated as if it were her own backyard, to keep him safe.

“Is that really all you got from that, Astarion?” The archer questioned, dryly. Despite her embarrassment at his quip, it was clear she still aimed to hold him accountable for endangering their companions. He loathed being held accountable, but she seemed to do it at every turn; the habit was infuriating.

Wren began wading his way, the splotches of embarrassment beginning to fade. How he longed to sink his fangs into her and satiate the hungry fire in his belly. He hadn’t consumed a single animal today — the caves really only had poisonous spiders and, even worse, rats.

‘When did I eat that fake paladin that had been after Karlach? Must have been nearly a week ago by now. And even then, their blood was nowhere near as satisfying as—'

“Agh, Wren, what in the hells!”

Wren had launched herself at him, contorting her limbs around his torso and leaning herself backwards, the shift in his gravity center causing both of them to tumble into the water. A shock of icy river water enveloped the vampire and jerked him out of his thoughts.

The pale elf shot up and out of the river like an arrow released from one of the ranger’s bows, haphazardly shoving drenched curls from his face. “Why you— how dare you—“ He sputtered, spinning in the direction of the traitorous wench.

“You have to admit, you kind of deserve it for leaving Karlach high and dry today.” The half-elf stated smugly.

She burst into laughter, and suddenly Astarion had her lifted into his arms, posed to launch her into the water. The river had washed away all thoughts of hunger, making room only for revenge.

“Little bird, I think you’ve gotten too big for your britches.” He said through gritted teeth as he shifted her weight in his arms, swinging her around like he was an Olympian throwing a shotput.

“Wait— Astarion, wait!” Wren shrieked, palms facing him, feigning innocence. “Truce! I have a gift for you… but I’ll only give it to you if you promise a truce.”

The offer was intriguing enough, and Astarion straightened his stance. Scarlet, cat-like eyes narrowed at the half-elf as he placed her back down on her own two feet. “This had better be good, Wren.”

-----

The rogue huffed as he watched the gang leader rummage through her pack, full to the brim with bits and bobs. “Gods, you’re just like that blue jay in the grove, hoarding every shiny thing! No wonder you’re named after a bird. You really ought to—'

Just then, she produced a giant hunk of amethyst from her pack. She proudly thrust the stone at him, and Astarion snapped his mouth shut, measuring the weight of the purple orb in his hand.

“I’m sorry, what were you saying about my hoarding habits?” Wren quipped, eyes daring him to continue his lecture.

Astarion’s undead heart skipped a beat. He'd recognized the significance of the item instantaneously; every free moment this week had been spent attempting to open that blasted book. A thrilled smile plastered his face. “My dear, I was just saying that a little bird like you needs a better backpack… or at least some repairs and upgrades made to that one if you’re planning to carry all of Faerun on your back… literally and metaphorically.”

The brunette woman rolled her eyes at the vampire, nodding her chin towards the treasure in his hand. “I found that when I fell off that crag today. You three were still trying to kill that stinking spider so I shoved it into my pack as fast as I could before returning to help. Now come on, let’s go put it in that ugly book of yours.”

This was now three gifts she had given him — blood, book, bijou. His mind rushed with anxiety… kindness was never this free, it always came with strings. The debt ratio was swinging further out of his favor, and even though Astarion was elated by the potential this purple key would unlock, his stomach also twisted at the fact that he kept owing this half-elven woman he barely knew more and more as the days crawled by. She seemed to know exactly what he couldn’t refuse and offer it to him at every opportunity. ‘Kindness or cunning?’

-----

They were nearly to the camp when Wren’s pack began to tear. “Shit!” She hissed, shrugging the bag off her shoulders to hold it in her arms as if it were a precious babe.

“My dear, you really need to drop some of that riff raff.” Astarion sighed, waving his hand dismissively at her backpack.

“When we get back to Emerald Grove, I’ll sell a lot of this stuff. Besides, we need the money.”

Astarion really couldn’t argue with that logic. He hated scrounging up things to sell off for money — he’d never had to do such a thing in his life, as far as he could remember… even in the life that only consisted of hazy memories before his Master took over. But, they had maybe a bit over one hundred gold between the lot of them, and that wasn’t going to go very far since Wren seemed set to adopt every straggler and animal she could along the way. They'd just picked up an annoying dog -- 'Scratch, what a poor excuse for a name.' -- 48 hours ago. Plus, his pickpocketing, admittedly, hadn’t turned up much in an area without the usual nobles and artistes he regularly scammed in Baldur’s Gate.

An exasperated sigh escaped his lips. “Fine then. Come and put all that trash in my pack, instead.” He offered, shrugging his bag off his shoulders and holding it open and out for her. His clothes were still wet and sticking to him from her earlier prank, and he really was getting very hungry. He desperately needed to hunt, and this silly exchange was slowing them down, but the ache in his stomach from owing Wren several favors was, at this moment, burning more than his hunger for blood. Maybe this gesture would start to swing the pendulum back into his corner. Indebtedness did not suit him well.

Wren beamed, dumping everything into the vampire’s pack; spoons clanged together at the bottom with a lump of moldy cheese and several… bones? ‘What in the hells. Is she a bird or a raccoon?’

“Gods, you’re absolutely ridiculous.” He grumbled. The vampire was shocked at the impractical weight she carried every day without a second thought.

“Thank you,” Wren replied, choosing to ignore the annoyance in his voice as she followed after the pale elf. The camp so close they could hear Lae’zel and Shadowheart bickering about the best weapon to use in a battle and smell whatever concoction Gale and Karlach created with the scant supplies in their inventory. Stars began to dapple the night sky, and the welcoming glow of the campfire drew them like moths towards the heart of the group.

As they walked the last bit of their journey, Wren couldn’t help but to sneak a few glances at Astarion, his wet shirt sticking to his torso, the nearly transparent material revealing glimpses of his pectorals and biceps. The first rays of moonlight started to dance in the vampire's hair, and she smiled as she recollected their earlier encounter in her mind's eye. Maybe the small glimpse of her companion's physique hadn’t been the motive of her actions earlier — it was mostly to shut his cocky mouth up — but maybe it had turned out to be part of the reward.

-----

Astarion found the Necromancy of Thay to be an interesting read… if you could get past the voices that wouldn’t just SHUT UP. Those spirits kept egging him to kill his camp mates… and what good would that do? He’d entertained the thought of killing Gale. At least he’d no longer have to hear the camp scholar ramble on and on about his precious Tara — was the wizard really in love with a goddess or was his true love his cat? But even the rogue had to admit that the purple pighead had a useful skillset and couldn't be disposed of just yet.

The silver-haired elf had almost made it to the end of the tome before he felt the voices driving into his mind, their influence infecting him with madness. If he wasn’t going to let Cazador control his mind, he sure as hell wasn’t about to have a dusty, inanimate object do so either. The book would have to remain closed for now... at least until he found another way around.

A quick stop to the druid camp to unload some of Wren’s junk, pick up some potions and specialty arrows, and the merry band of misfits and weirdos were nearly ready to head back out.

Wren sat on a boulder at the front of Emerald Grove, needle and thread in hand. The others wandered around, in various stages of their own preparations, as they all set their sights on finding the Goblin Camp. Astarion had already finished his bit of pickpocketing and purchasing, so he meandered lazily towards the little bird, where he would wait for the others to gather.

‘She’d make a terrible seamstress.’ He thought, noting that Wren had chosen to mend her pack with a running stitch that wouldn’t hold the weight of all the knickknacks she insisted on hoarding. Her focus was intense, brow furrowed on her project as he took a seat on the boulder, one knee up, head slightly tilted. “I would recommend a backstitch, instead, my dear.”

“Wha— ouch!” The half elf hissed, wincing as she pulled the silver sliver from its new home inside her pointer finger. A thin stream of blood began to ooze out of the flesh wound.

Astarion reflexively snatched her hand and pressed the injured finger into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the tip of her digit. His eyes closed briefly as he savored the delicious taste of that elixir running through her veins -- sunlight and cinnamon -- before his mind caught up to his impulsivity. He felt Wren’s hand jerk slightly at the contact of his tongue; the shocked widening of her eyes ghosting across his peripheral vision. His hastiness really was going to get him killed. Where was his usual, unfaltering control? ‘What the hell are you doing, idiot spawn?’

“Can’t let such a delicious and precious thing go to waste, can we, darling?” He purred. One more sensual lick of her finger, all for show, and he released his grip.

Wren remained frozen. Silence passed between the two. Astarion felt panic rise up in his gut, mentally running through a way to smooth over the interaction, when suddenly the little bird burst into a fit of laughter.

“This explains so much!” She exclaims, throwing herself back on the boulder and covering her eyes. His favorite scar danced along her lip as her giggles rang through the grove. “You’re hungry! Astarion, why didn’t you say anything?”

The rogue furrowed his brow, still trying to calculate how something he’d made so overtly sexual caused Wren to burst into a fit of laughter rather than melt into a puddle of lust. Was she immune to his charms? Not attracted to men? Had he been turned into a hideous mindflayer already and everyone was too polite to tell him so? “Well, after last time, when you had to shove me off of you… frankly, darling, I didn’t think—“

“I’ll let you feed on me, Astarion. But first, I need you to do something for me.”

‘Ah, there it is, the string.’ Thinks the vampire, as he cocks his head at the woman. “And what, exactly, do you have in mind?”

Wren reached around her side and grabbed hold of a small book. She waved the tattered thing at him, a shy smile crossing her lips. “Just help me read this, okay? And maybe help me sew my pack together, since you seem to be such an expert.”

“A book. You just want me to help you read a book?” He is unable to hide the disbelief in his voice from her and the internal glimmer of relief from himself.

The half-elf playfully taps his shoulder blade with the thin novel. “Not just any book, Astarion. It has healing spells inside… I stole it from Nettie earlier today. I want to learn a few. You read all the time at camp -- even before the Necromancy of Thay, so I figured you wouldn't really mind. Plus, like I told you... reading tires me out and I really want to learn this.”

“You stole it?” The pale elf can’t hide his amusement; his eyebrows raise up into his forehead and a small chuckle crosses his lips. Wren didn’t seem like she had to gall to commit such an act; she was always too busy playing goody-two-shoes-savior-of-the-world-and-every-living-creature.

“Serves her right for trying to poison me the last time. She owes me.” The ranger mumbles, with an unbothered shrug.

A small hum from the elf as he considered the agreement; it seemed easy and innocent enough. If a string had to be attached, perhaps it was best that it was something as banal as reading the little bird a bedtime story. ‘The purple bookworm at camp would’ve loved to offer his services to her, I’m sure.’

Another thought crosses his mind, and he turns to Wren, where she is waiting expectantly for an answer. “Deal, darling. But what makes you think you’re going to have any success? Most rangers I’ve come across only know how to employ the uses of yarrow and calendula. Spellcasting never really seems to be their strong suit.”

“My mom was a cleric… it’s in my blood.” Wren sighs, and he can tell by the tone of her voice and the hardened line her mouth makes that he will not get more information if he presses.

Astarion gestures for the half-elf to hand over the pack and quickly takes up the mending. Skilled fingers make quick work of the task, and he bites at the thin flash of blue thread in order to finish off the job just as the rest of the group makes their way to the front of the grove.

Handing the pack back to Wren, he locks eyes with her for just a moment. “When?”

The little bird takes her bag from his hands, admiring the beautiful needlework. Karlach is headed towards the pair, recounting her adventures in Avernus to some of the tiefling children. The red woman's animated hands are waving around, followed by "oohs" and "ahhs" from her tiny admirers. Wren paused their conversation briefly to watch Karlach's show and Astarion thought he saw her eyes well up before she blinked and turned back to face him. “Tonight is fine with me," she murmurs, absently, before looking down again at the new stitches of blue in her backpack. "You really did a wonderful job here."

Astarion's mouth waters at the anticipation, and he struggles to swallow as he aims to keep his face an unreadable mask. “I’ll see you tonight, then, darling.” He murmurs and stands to shoulder his pack before being roped in to settle an argument between Lae'zel and Shadowheart about which color of wine is superior -- red or white.

‘Don’t lose control, you idiot.’ The thought flares in both the rogue's and ranger's minds at the same time. Perhaps it was the parasite wriggling in their minds, connecting them briefly, neither of them aware... or perhaps it was another string of fate tethering them together in a way neither could envision for themselves.

[synergysilhouette]

Brainstorming child units for these Engage characters

I was super sad that we couldn't have child units in 3H, and this was echoed in Engage--though I will praise Engage for being able to S-support everyone (even though not all of them are romantic). So because of this, I wanted to brainstorm ideas for child units in Engage. Sadly, I have no artistic skills, but I've got my imagination.

Iliad, the child of Alear. Early to mid teens, and I'd imagine they have a different color scheme so they don't look like carbon copies of their parents like Kana and Morgan do. I thought male Iliad's hair would be predominantly blue with a streak of red while female Iliad had red hair with blue highlights in the front (similar to Rogue from "X-Men"), but it'd be a cool detail if the ends of their hair matched the hair color of whoever Alear married. I imagine since their parents showered them with love and affection, they're much more emotionally and psychologically stable than Alear, as well as being a bit of a pacifist. In a contrast to Fates and Awakening, I'd like for Iliad's gender to match Alear's.

Neciso, the son of Pandreo. Originally I pictured him as a wolf pup type of kid, but then I imagined him as a young man who's also a kind priest like his dad--but he doesn't have the energy for parties. He's more of a scholarly type, but occasionally he'll let out an energetic howl.

Adele, the daughter of Alfred. Given the fact that Alfred dies young but it's never said how young that is, I think his daughter is super protective of him as she grows up (she'd be a teen here), training herself to be the strongest in the kingdom.

Emeraude, the daughter of Diamant. Due to the circumstances that made Diamant king, he wants Emeraude to be fully prepared for the worst-case scenario if she needs to become a queen immediately. That said, he also makes sure to spend a lot of time with her just in case she never sees him again.

Lazul, the son of Alcryst. A young man very big on upholding the honor of the royal family and looks up to his dad a lot, despite the latter's embarrassment. His cousin also encouraged his uncle to give him an education befitting a monarch, as she always saw him as her equal, just as their fathers did before them.

Aquamarine, the daughter of Amber. A young woman who inherited her father's romanticism and affinity for animals, she comes across as a fairy tale princess. She strives to become a legendary heroine--along with seducing a village boy or five. She's basically the female version of Laslow/Inigo and isn't shamed for that.

Chikai, the son of Yunaka. He frequently slips in an out of situations, and has a bubbly personality. It's believed he is also a thief, though he's so likeable most people find it hard to believe. He's a sly charmer (very similar to Hermes from the Hades video game).

Rubis, the daughter of Saphir. She's a popular knight and friend of Emeraude and Lazul. Her duty takes precedence first and foremost, and is the oldest of the child units (being in her mid-20s).

Eos, the son of Ivy. He's a young man known for being even-tempered and uncharacteristically kind by those who still deem Elusia with suspicion. He frequently wears a ghostly-white rose in his breast pocket, and while he's shy like his mother, he pushes himself to be more sociable to make others lose their fear for his kingdom.

Solanum, the son of Hortensia. As a little kid, one would be unsurprised by his childish behavior--though those who know Hortensia think it's because she spoils him, and that he'll likely be that way when he's older, too. He often sticks to Eos like glue, and is quick to protect his family.

Salix, daughter of Zelkov. Considered a counterpart to Chikai, she's known for being dangerous and charming--though while Chikai often keeps his criminal activity to non-life threatening activities, Salix is known for being lethal to her enemies. Her father doesn't seem to mind, considering her loyalty to the crown.

Tia, daughter of Timerra. Known as "the wandering princess," she's often found camping with her family and traveling on her own--unless her retainers happen to catch up to her. She has a close relationship with her family, and has a singing voice that is much better than her mother's--something her uncle frequently takes advantage of when Timerra tries to sing.

Taralli, the son of Seadall. Like his father, he is a renowned dancer and fortune-teller, though he often prefers to leave fate to chance, only reading fortunes when truly necessary. I imagine his outfit is similar to Inigo's "Indigo Dancer" outfit in FEH, except Taralli would probably be called the fated dancer.

Hope you like my ideas! Who knows, I may make more for other characters--maybe 3 Houses. Lemme know your thoughts or if you have any questions!

Update: check out the art @yanderefairyangel made inspired by these posts! We've both posted them on our Tumblr accounts.

[rivermonster2014]

Team RWBY tries to spend some time relaxing while they wait to get word from Vale. But none of them are able to get the possibility of another war out of their minds.

[rainbowmoonstonestories]

Let Your Dreams Be Your Wings | Chapter 2

Chapters: 2/? Fandom: The Sandman (Netflix 2022, minor content from the Comics) Rating: Explicit Relationships: Dream of the Endless/Morpheus x F!Reader Characters: Dream of the Endless/Morpheus, Lucienne, Matthew the Raven, Mervyn Pumpkinhead, Hob Gadling, Death, Rose Walker, The Corinthian, other minor Sandman characters, Original Characters. Warnings: 18+ content (upcoming, minors DNI), explicit sexual content, POV switching, very long chapters to read (you can skip parts if you think it is too much). Summary: You always dreamed of becoming a successful Fashion Designer, sharing your creations with the world and making your father proud. But with him being very ill and so many costs solely weighting on your shoulders, things didn’t go as planned and you had to take a different path instead. An interesting offer led you to the elder Alex Burgess and you were hired as a new housemaid for a very good pay. However, your kindness and outstanding empathy convinced the man to give you an additional task for a doubled compensation; gaining the trust of Dream Of the Endless, held captive into the basement for over a century. Despite the shock of finding such an ethereal entity stripped of all his clothes and contained into a confined space, you had to accept for the sake of your father. But the more you got to speak to the mysterious anthropomorphic personification who didn't utter a single word, the more you were lost into his eyes that, conversely, seemed to contain the entire universe. A deep connection formed between the two of you, separated only by a thick layer of glass.

Little did you know, what started like a simple housemaid job was about to change your life forever.

Credits: The moon dividers were made by firefly-graphics.

Chapter 2

The end justifies the means. Or does it?

In the past 106 years, Morpheus had seen nothing but demands and the worst side of humanity. The dastardly Roderick Burgess’ whims had pestered him for a very long time, asking for gifts that were not in his power to give, nor they were for mankind to receive. When Roderick departed from this world, his son Alex inherited everything that was in the Magus’s possession, included Dream himself.

He desperately tried to offer freedom in exchange for his and Paul’s safety. Dream could have accepted at the time, to be finally set free and resume his duties as the King of Dreams and Nightmares into The Dreaming.

Sadly, there was no forgiveness in his heart.

Alex Burgess had killed his raven, Jessamy, right in front of Morpheus’s eyes. He could still see her blood and innards splattered over the glass, her unrecognizable body twitching on the floor before it stopped completely. They took her away from him like they stole his helm, his ruby and his pouch of sand. They ripped his essence into pieces, stripped him of everything he was and expected to see their wishes granted in a snap.

Alex wanted an answer, Morpheus had nothing but silence to give.

And so, more years passed with him trapped into the sphere and sealed away from his powers and his realm. He refused to accept any offer coming from a weakling who first did wrong under the influence of a monster, then persisted in keeping things unchanged and following the man’s legacy.

Since getting old and ill, his captor’s visits in the basement had decreased considerably, but from time to time, Alex still showed up to try again and again, requesting an answer he knew would never come. Two guards were sitting in the cellar most times, especially at night, to watch his sitting form from afar. They occasionally stood in front of the main door at the upper floor as well, leaving him alone in the darkness of his prison.

But one night, something unexpected happened; a beautiful human girl appeared before him out of nowhere, visibly suffering from the coldness of the basement and shivering with exposed arms and bare legs due to a uniform that did not do her justice, in a place she didn’t really belong to. For the very first time after so long, he received compassion and kindness from a mortal who recognized him for who he truly was and understood the importance of his presence in the Universe for humanity’s sake. There was something in her eyes, in the way she looked back at him with so much pain and worry flowing into her heart. Something he got really curious about and wanted to further inspect.

He knew he would see her again sooner rather than later, anyway. Alex had offered her a conspicuous amount of money, mentioning her father’s illness and how much she would need it to sustain his medical care. Humans were easily corruptible, Alex Burgess knew exactly were to strike to properly use the woman for his own gain.

But Dream wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. If he had to stay trapped in that cage for many years to come, then he would make sure that Alex suffered until the end of his days. For Jessamy. For not standing his ground when Roderick put that rifle into his hands. For never apologizing for what he’d done and expecting Morpheus to simply forgive and forget.

Nevertheless, he found that woman utterly intriguing, curious and fascinating. Very much so.

You were used to tossing and turning in your bed every night before finally falling asleep, but this time it wasn’t just your insomnia keeping you wide awake.

How many people knew about Dream? Were you the only staff member allowed to set foot into the cellar? Anyone in your shoes would pack their things and run out of the front door at once, and to be quite frank, for a moment you considered that option yourself before shaking the thought away completely.

Your instinct had kicked in since the day you took the job. The rumors were one thing, you had your doubts about their truthfulness at least until they ventilated the possibility of having some kind of strange creature locked into the basement. But you also remembered how you felt upon entering the house for the first time, the air was somehow a little eerie despite the cozy atmosphere and the delicious smell of old wood. And then there was that inexplicable pull you had towards the cellar, the strong desire to get involved into something you had no connection with and you may have regretted with all your might (in part you did).

And then you saw him, Dream. He was perfection personified, you saw his eyes glowing unnaturally, his pale skin almost reflecting the light. The energy you felt when your eyes met, when you touched the glass, when he shifted in the cage to move closer to where you were standing.

You grabbed your phone from the nightstand, tapped the screen to unlock it and performed a rapid search as your fingers trembled. You selected the first highlighted link, which led you to an old newspaper page from the Daily Mail printed in 1926:

𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐘 𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒: 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐏𝐄𝐃 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐒, 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐍 𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐒

Since the illness hit the first victims in 1916, some people begged for sleep that wouldn’t come, whilst others lived as perpetual sleep walkers for a long time. Later renamed as Encephalitis Lethargica, it was described like an unknown pandemic that took place during the course of World War I and also coincided with the widespread sickness and death caused by the Spanish flu. However, while it seemed to have been viral, its original cause was still unclear in 2022. You suffered from insomnia since you were a child, seeming to also have trouble remembering your dreams when/if they even occured. Considering The Sandman was still trapped into Fawney Rig, you could finally come up with a proper explanation for your affliction, as not even the prescribed medications worked for you.

You browsed through different threads and discussions posted online. Some people were convinced that EL was a bad consequence of the Spanish flu, others believed there were demonic forces involved and nothing about the illness was natural. No evidence could confirm, nor deny those theories, but you knew the second one was at least based onto real facts.

You were horribly conflicted now; what were you supposed to do with Dream from that moment onward? Refusing the offer wouldn’t bring you to a full dismissal, you figured, since that was not the original scope of your contract and firing you wouldn’t be in their best interest. The salary was already more than you could ever ask for, receiving such a high compensation for dealing with an imprisoned being would go against your principles and sense of just. Dream’s face was imprinted into your memory and you couldn’t bear the thought of knowing, yet pretending it wasn’t really happening.

Your frustration was devouring you from the inside, all your tiredness long forgetten. You put your phone back and moved the sheets out of the way, standing from your bed and reaching for the bag placed on the small desk in front of the window. You took out the notebook and pencil from the contents you had in it, moving the chair out to sit down and switching the table lamp on.

Sketching was the only thing that could always calm your nerves and you barely had enough time to make a phone call or even eat. Thankfully, the next day you would be off from work and visit your father after two weeks of distance and lack of communication.

Your hand travelled along the white page with racked up inspiration, as the pencil traced line after line and your vision started to take form. The clock on the wall was ticking, its sound creating a stable, relaxing rythm that went along well with the light scratch of graphite on paper.

But then, you found yourself lost in thought and your hand stopped moving. The page was turned, the unfinished draft of a dress you had fantasized about for months now set aside. The pencil resumed its work, sliding around without control. You let the image flow from your mind, using your fingers to smudge and blend shapes together. 50 minutes later, your drawing was complete.

In the middle of the night, you stared at your finished creation with a sense of warmness filling your entire body. If you squinted just enough, you could almost see the patterns dancing on the page like the original source. You let the pencil fall from your grasp, your blackened fingertips lightly brushing over the drawing and tracing the lines with newly acquired fondness.

You got sucked into your faithful representation of one of Dream’s eyes, your heart pounding and filled with an emotion that you didn’t know how to describe.

Despite your lack of sleep, the next day you woke up astonishingly early. The sky was still partially dark, deep blue merging with the orange and golden tones of dawn. The moment the rest of the crew got ready for the day, running back and forth and resuming their usual activities, you were already out of the house and on your way to your father’s. The trip back to town, between the taxi ride and the route on foot, didn't take you more than an hour from Fawney Rig.

Your father was lying in his bed, face lighting up upon seeing you as he extended his arms out to give you one of his outstanding and well missed bear hugs. For a sick man he still had a lot of strength in his limbs, much to your delight.

The nurse was taking good care of him in your absense; the man was properly fed and kept busy with chess matches, a lot of reading and different cheesy movies all week, which happened to be his favorites. You had the impression that he lost more weight since the last time you saw him, but his general conditions seemed as stable as they’d been in the previous weeks.

The family doctor, Mr. Mills, joined you around lunch time. He gave your father his daily dose of medicine and allowed the two of you to catch up in his room as he took a sit on the couch, documents at hand and laptop ready to be set.

“You look tired sweetheart,” your father noticed, sitting more comfortably against the pillows. “Is your job keeping you that busy?”

“Sort of, I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“Insomnia as always?”

“Yes,” you lied. “Just my insomnia.”

Keeping secrets was not exactly your forte and thus your emotions transpired with your gritted teeth and knitted eyebrows.

“Something’s troubling you, though. What is wrong, Y/N?”

You forced a smile. “It’s nothing dad. I just have a lot on my mind these days.”

He gently took your hand in his, thumb making circles over your skin. “I know you don’t want me to worry. But please, if there’s anything serious going on, whatever it is, don’t keep me out of it.”

As persuasive as he could be, you had to keep your resolve intact for his sake. Worrying him and worsening his physical conditions was the last thing you needed on your list.

“Dad, I promise, everything’s okay. I’m just concerned about you and I have a lot to take care of at work.”

Well, that wasn’t really a lie, after all.

“Sweetie, I don’t want you to think that I do not appreciate your efforts, because I do. But I am the one who should take care of my daughter, not the other way around. You are wasting so many chances, when will you start living your life the way you deserve?”

Your eyes stinged with tears. “You took care of me since the day mom left us behind. You will always be my priority, I owe you as much.”

He sighed. “This job you are doing? A housemaid for a rich bastard with questionable reputation? Jesus Christ, I strongly disapprove.”

You laughed. “Said reputation is more about his father actually… and he pays me really well. This benefits you too, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“Do you know what else I’ve noticed? That you are so dishearteningly unhappy, my dear. You have dreams and an enviable creative talent that is literally going wasted.”

Dreams…

Your mind immediatly went to Dream Of the Endless, curled up naked into that sphere, all alone and mistreated for over 100 years.

You pushed that image out of your head. “My hopes and dreams are long gone, dad. For the time being, you come first whether you like it or not.”

“Y/N, do you have a moment?”

Doctor Mills called you as you stepped into the lobby, coat already buttoned up and bag set on your shoulder.

“Of course. Is everything okay?”

He looked particularly distressed, his hair was disheveled and the tie around his neck got partially undone.“There’s something I need to show you.”

Silently, you followed Doctor Mills into the living room, countless documents and medical records were scattered over the coffee table. You sit on the couch with wobbly legs and aching chest, loosening the first two buttons of your coat for the temperature suddenly increasing and you knew the heating was currently turned off.

Doctor Mills took place next to you. “I’ll go straight to the point. Your father’s been taking the same medicines for quite some time now and while they have kept his general conditions stable until recently, they are no longer working as they should anymore.”

Please, no.

“What does it mean?” You asked.

“It means that we need to try a different approach. Again. He lost a few pounds although he still eats regularly, this means that his stomach is not properly assimilating and his latest blood test confirmed it. He doesn’t know it yet.”

You wanted to cry, but you couldn’t allow yourself to break down in front of him. Or anyone. “What kind of approach should we try this time?”

“This is what I really wanted to discuss with you,” he took his laptop and typed something on it, then he clicked on a PDF document and showed you its content displayed on the screen. “It is highly experimental and not yet distributed on the market. I cannot make any sort of prediction, but the performed tests with this medicament have shown amazing results. There might be some unwanted side effects, not gonna lie, but there also are huge possibilities for him to recover.

You bent down to take a closer look at the file. All you could see was a list of codes and scientific terms that you barely comprehended. “So, what you’re saying is, with this specific treatment he may get back to a normal life?”

He looked through the various sheets on the table, some even fell on the carpet for his restlessness, but he didn’t bother to pick them up. “Yes, this is what I’m saying. It may take some time to see an actual effect, but it could work. Unfortunately, there is one problem.”

Oh no.

“Here,” he pointed at a raw of text on the paper he collected from the mess. “As you can see, it is extremely expensive. The money you sent me not long ago was enough to pay off the current medicines, treatments and 24/7 care. But, as you can see, it wouldn’t suffice to cover all of it in the future, not with the new treatment added to the package.”

You could feel your insides twisting, your ears painfully ringing and your head throbbing violently. The indicated figure you saw written on the paper was literally double your current salary at Fawney Rig.

“I’m not asking you to do this for free. I will pay you for your service, twice the monthly amount I’m already giving you, in fact.”

“I already pinged you with countless emails in the past few months and I know you are doing all you can. It is admirable, really. I wouldn’t suggest this to you if it weren’t the only chance we have left.”

The only chance left. In other words, if you didn’t agree to this new treatment, you’d directly sign your father’s death sentence and he would be done for.

You weren't ready to see him go yet.

Your bottom lip quivered and you had to appeal to all your willpower not to burst into tears right on the spot. Everyone says that life is made of difficult choices, you never had to pull your hair as much as you were now.

You hated this. You hated what you were about to say.

“I just got a new tast at work. I will pay for this the upcoming month, if that’s okay.”

Doctor Mills was dumbstruck, clearly he wasn’t expecting such a positive answer from you and rightfully so. Before leaving your old waitress job, he had to constantly chase you to remind you of the payments that were still due. “Oh… oh wow! That is wonderful news indeed!” His enthusiasm was heartwarming, but your emotions at the moment were all over the place. You didn’t know whether to be happy for that new glim of hope, or dreadfully worn-out for what you needed to do in order to let the miracle happen.

“Then I can proceed and begin with the administration next week?”

Your hands closed into fists, nails scraping the skin underneath.

You turned to him again with a feeble smile. “Please.”

The voice in your head was screaming and your heart was completely torn apart. You believed that everything happened for a reason, but how could you give your father his healthy life back, if in return you had to cause even more misery to someone who already dealt with so much suffering for way longer than you existed?

You refused to believe that Dream’s presence had no other meaning, that you had to take advantage of his captivity to save the only family you had left. Anyone would remind you that the end always justified the means, but you never believed in that saying as it sounded more like a loophole. To you, there was no such thing as ‘justified means’ when your actions could potentially damage another person. Endless being or not, Dream was still a living creature, just like you. Just like your father. Just like Alex and Paul.

Thinking about it, somehow, you didn’t have the slightest sympathy for Mr. Burgess on that regard. While you recognized the complexity of it all and fully understood the fear of being annihilated by Dream’s vengeance, it was clear from the Endless’ expression they chose not to reveal the rest of the story. Furthermore, leaving him into that cage for centuries wouldn’t be a proper solution, even more so if your theory about the Sleepy Sickness was correct. His imprisonment was seemingly affecting mankind as much as it was hurting Dream himself, even after a century.

You pinched the bridge of your nose and sighed in frustration. Maybe you were the first person showing him the good side of humanity after so long. You knew how stupid it was to fool around with magic spells and summonings you wouldn’t even be able to suitably control, but Roderick Burgess wanted to cheat Death and dictate his own conditions, when he was nothing but a mere mortal with delusions of grandeur. Dream only needed to be given hope for once, a real one… yet he was destined to only receive futile requests and more extortions, stuck into a cycle that didn’t seem to get a proper conclusion.

Even from you, apparently. The end justifies the means, you repeated in your head, but the more you tried to convince yourself that you had no other choice, the more you wanted to throw up.

You looked out the window from the backseat of your cab. The sun was starting to come down with dinner time impending, the traffic in the rush hour had the car stationary for quite some time, but you certainly were not in a hurry to go back. Your fingers curled around the fabric of your bag, you could feel the sketchbook contained inside, filled with ideas that never really came to life. You thought about your father, so strong and brave, yet so fragile and with death looming over his shoulder. You thought about Dream, more beautiful and heavenly than a God, sorrowing over a fate that had been forced onto him by a man with no heart and prolonged over time.

A tear fell from your eyes, but you immediatly brushed it off. Just what were you even doing with your life?

You sit on one of the leather couches, holding a small glass of liquor and eying the real stuffed lion that had its gaze on you. The silent and still roar was positively unsettling, as any other animal in the manor embalmed with its natural pose, or simply standing with a blank expression. Always watching you whenever you passed by.

The ones who liked killing animals for sport, exhibition and money, deserved to burn in the fires of hell.

May Lucifer have no mercy on their filthy and corrupted souls.

As you took a sip from your glass, you heard the sound of footsteps approaching from the corridor and Paul’s familiar voice politely dismissing his guests taking their leave for the night. He stopped midway when he entered the lounge, eyes meeting yours and checking your sitting form as if you were some kind of unexpected visitor.

Breaking the awkward silence threatening to fall between the two of you, you greeted him with a smile. “Good evening Mr. McGuire.”

The man’s eyes softened. “Good evening Miss Y/LN. It is good to see you.”

Did he believe you had run away for good to never return? That you had abandoned your job and your responsibilities in the house without a word?

“You are quite an early riser. You were already gone when I woke up this morning.”

Evidently, he did.

Your main intent was in fact to avoid them for the entirety of the day, but they didn’t need to know that. “I had planned to visit my father and I find morning traffic sincerely aggravating. I thought that leaving at an early hour would be more beneficial.”

Paul nodded, and with discernible uncertainty, took a sit on the other couch in front of you. He was distressed, that much was obvious, assailed by guilt for what you had to witness and the unconventional role his husband had offered (or rather imposed) you.

When you remained silent, Mr. McGuire let out his hoarded tension exhaling deeply. “I was wondering if you were doing okay after last night? Alex didn’t listen, I told him you had nothing to do with our family affairs. I owe you an apology for what he put you through.”

You emptied your glass with a gulp, savoring the bitter taste of the little Whiskey you could handle. “I was the one getting myself involved, actually.”

“But you didn’t know, of course. How could you have known?”

Right. You had no way to know they were keeping a living being, who was practically a God, imprisoned into a pathetic fish bowl look-alike cage since 1916.

“Even so, you shouldn’t feel responsible for this, Mr. McGuire. I snooped into a matter that had nothing to do with me. If anything, the fault is mine.”

A part of you wished you had never discovered the truth about Dream, that you could spare yourself the excruciating remorse you were so desperately trying to extinguish from your heavy heart. But there also was another part that couldn’t stop thinking about his eyes and unworldly essense engraved into your spirit.

“Alex shouldn’t have done that anyway. You see, he’s been obsessing over Dream since he failed to convince him that we meant no harm, that we could free him, only if he wanted to.”

‘Only if he wanted to’?

Your fingers twitched against the glass, which you were absently twirling between your hands. “I doubt he wished to remain imprisoned for another century,” you said.

“Naturally.”

“So, what is it that Mr. Burgess is planning?”

He couldn’t really expect that, after 106 years, Dream of the Endless would suddenly accept his terms, or plead for mercy to be released.

“What he said last night is true; he wants nothing more than setting him free. But Alex is afraid, Miss Y/LN, he is not to blame for that.”

“I get it, I really do. But the question is, why me? How am I supposed to convince him, when not even you have succeeded in years?”

Did they want you to lie, to make false promises that you knew you wouldn’t be able to keep?

“One thing we noticed about you, Miss Y/LN, is your compassion. You are kind, you listen, you always know the right thing to say.”

Even if you could regret it a moment later, apparently.

“I am still against the idea of sending you down there, but you’re giving Alex hope. If you could… I don’t know, consider it… that would really mean a lot to him.”

You put the glass on the coffee table and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. “You know this is awfully wrong, right? That you cannot keep him stuck in there forever?”

He looked down at his own hands. “Yes.”

“And you also know there is no guarantee he will trust me, that he will even talk to me. That everything might remain as it is and you will gain nothing again, except for wasted time and money.”

His mouth tightened into a thin line. “I do. But something changed last night, I'm sure. The way he was looking at you... I don't know, it was just different.”

In that moment, you understood what it was that you saw in Paul’s expression and you couldn’t immediatly interpret; exasperation. Just like you, he used to be a regular worker for the manor, doing his duty in the garden as love bloomed between him and the Magus’s son. He also didn’t know what marrying Alex Burgess would entail and yet he stayed, close to his lover’s side, accepting the man’s burdens as his own.

He was tired, worried, drained out. With Alex sick and spending most of the day in bed, Paul had to take care of everything on his spouse’s behalf. And on top of that, the man he loved was getting weaker every day.

“You are a good man, Mr. McGuire,” you told him with complete sincerity. “You love your husband and I’m sure seeing him in pain is tearing you apart. I understand what you’re going through, that’s why…” You hesitated, heart going rampage as you had to come to terms with your decision. “…That is why, I’m going to give this a shot.”

There was no turning back now.

Paul’s attention snapped back at you, mouth agape. He looked at your face in silence for a few seconds, your chest was burning in part for the liquor, in part because of how awful you felt about yourself.

“You are…? Really?”

You squeezed your eyes shut. “I'll be frank with you: my father’s conditions are worsening. There is hope, an experimental medication that may finally help him recover, for real this time. But, it has a grave downside: it costs a lot of money, more than I could afford at this time.”

You saw tenderness in his smile. “So you will do it for your father.”

You felt so bad, so dirty, so evil. “I don’t really have a choice.”

“Just know that you can get out of this anytime,” he clarified. “If you don’t want to do it anymore, we would never hold it against you, I promise. Alex will understand.”

Will he, though?

You didn’t feel any better despite Paul’s reassurance and gentle words . You knew you were condemning yourself, as the knot you felt in your stomach was bound to expand and deepen your anguish to the point of no return.

You put all your energy and anxiousness into work, cleaning every nook and cranny, cutting grass into the garden, polishing ornaments and just doing more than you were supposed to accomplish in one shift. Nobody complained, if anything, the staff was using your resourcefulness as an excuse to take breaks from their own tasks, lighting a cigarette in a quiet corner and taking a walk in the open air.

You didn’t care. You needed to bury yourself into anything that could keep your mind occupied, preventing it from wandering in places you didn’t want it to go. You wanted to forget, at least for a few hours, that you had to humiliate an Endless, using him for your own lucre without practicing what you had preached.

And then, in the blink of an eye, another day had passed and you found yourself in front of the basement door, which looked like it was part of the wall design, a hidden portal to another dimension. In a way it felt just like so, were it not for the fact that the underground reality was anything but a fairy tale.

Paul brought you a small jar of pills without any label on it, dropping it into your palm. “They’re stimulants,” he explained. “Our guards have all taken them for over a century, it is recommended to never fall asleep, nor appear tired in Dream’s presence. He may be able to break through and manipulate your mind.”

“I thought he was binded to the circle, “ you said. “That he no longer retained any of his powers.”

“Someone said you can’t really take away all his power, not even with all this. He’s constantly under watch for a reason.”

Someone who? Not even the binding spell and the glass sphere were enough to fully contain Dream’s energy? Good to know, you thought.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Paul was still feeling uneasy for what they had convinced you to do. “The guards will be there should you find yourself in need. They’re already informed.”

The guards you had seen around didn’t exactly inspire you safety, but you did not perceive any sort of danger that would require their intervention.

You smiled. “I’ll take it from here. Thank you Mr. McGuire.”

He was reluctant to leave you unaccompanied, but eventually, he decided to trust you enough to let you descend on your own. “Good luck Miss Y/LN, have a good night. And please, take one of those tablets as a safety measure.”

You stared at his back as he walked away, passing in front of the antique showcases containing urns, statues and ancient armors. You waited for him to disappear around the corner before shoving the jar of pills into your pocket without even touching the lid. You had enough trouble sleeping without the stimulants and with no Dream of the Endless nearby, worsening your predicament for something that wasn’t a concern to you was unnacessary.

You carefully opened the slim door, it creaked when it moved and you could already feel the coldness from below touching your skin. You decided to wear a long jacket that covered your arms and part of your legs, but you didn’t have the time to fully change into something more comfortable.

This time, you went down the stairs instead of taking the elevator, careful not to trip with your heels on the high steps. When you reached the bottom, passing through the open gates and entering the cellar, you once again forgot how breathing worked. Dream was right there, in the same position you left him the night you found him; head down, arms crossed over his bent knees, a body language that showed defeat and affliction, but also kingliness and determination.

The knot in your stomach tightened even more and a huge lump formed in your throat. His head raised when he sensed your presence, meeting your watery eyes without even blinking.

You wanted to get closer, but your feet didn’t budge. You felt as if someone had casted a spell on you for how dumbfounded you were by his perfection.

“Did you come speak to that Old Dracula?”

A female voice got your attention from the table on your left. A woman and a man in uniform were respectively holding a magazine and newspaper in front of their faces. She had her hair tied in a low bun, a pink lipstick and quite a sturdy body structure. The man had puffy cheeks, short wavy hair and an equally large build he could barely fit under the table. They were the same guards who eyed you strangely when Mr. Burgess brought you there for the first time.

You looked puzzled. “Dracula…?”

She shrugged, getting back to the magazine as she crossed her feet. They both looked tremendously bored, stolid and impatient to leave.

The Endless was unmoved and still settled on studying you. It was hard enough to face a caged entity when you wanted nothing more than taking him out of that bowl, you couldn’t deal with those two evesdropping on you from their location and gossiping about it the day after.

No, that wouldn’t do. If you wanted to speak to Dream the right way, you had to make them leave. Somehow.

You didn't have the authority to kick them out, but you could at least try to persuade them. “Can you leave us, please?”

As expected, the guards stared at you as if you were out of your mind. “Not a chance, Missy,” the man responded. “We are on watch duty, can’t leave our post.”

You cursed under your breath. “Look, I can’t do this with you here. Please, just give me a few minutes with him, unless you want me to tell Mr. Burgess that I couldn’t do what he asked because you interfered?”

There, you had done it.

They remained silent and exchanged a look, the woman threw the magazine on the table and her colleague folded the newspaper under his arm, pushing the chair out. The female guard didn’t seem particularly trustful as she stood in front of you and narrowed her eyes, but you held her scrutinizing gaze without faltering and waited for her to lose the staring contest.

Finally, she complied. ““Alright, just don’t do anything stupid.”

You noticed her hand brushing along the gun secured into the holster, a subtle admonishment to let you know they were not playing games and wouldn't even hesitate to use it.

“As stupid as calling him Dracula?”

You didn’t mean to say it out loud, it simply escaped your lips without realizing what you were doing. The woman looked offended, snorting and making a face while stepping backward. “We’ll be upstairs if you need us.”

You could barely contain the satisfaction when her face turned red. “Yes, Ma'am.”

You heard them stomping out with heavy footsteps and the squeak of the door at the upper floor. It didn’t shut, signaling they were just keeping it ajar, prick-eared and ready to return at any moment.

No matter, you got what you were hoping for and now it was time for business. So to speak. Easier said than done, really.

When you turned around, your mouth felt dry. Dream’s position had slightly changed and you could swear you saw a fleeble grin lifting the left corner of his mouth. But when you crossed the suspended bridge and set foot on the painted ground with the binding circle, his expression was back to normal, serious and mistrustful.

You thought you had the situation under control, but now that you were in the basement with him, completely alone, keeping your cool turned out to be the hardest trial you had ever encountered. You kept your eyes over his face, holding yourself back from dropping them to the rest of his body. Although he was strategically covering his modesty, the fully naked, gorgeous man in front of you, wasn’t exactly leaving you unaffected.

And at the same time, you hated it. They left him there without any clothes on like some sideshow, stripped of everything he had and put in full view for anyone to look at.

Your throat felt close, shortening your breath. “Hi,” you whispered. “I’m Y/N Y/LN. I would say it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Dream of the Endless, but the circumstances are not particularly favorable.”

He remained silent, of course, so you went on. “You know why I’m here.” It wasn’t a question, he undoubtfully was aware since Mr. Burgess made it all clear in his presence. “And I owe you an apology. I am yet another mortal coming here to make you talk, to negotiate with you, convince you they mean no harm.”

And yet, here he was, physically unscathed, but ravaged by a century of seclusion.

“How many times did they promise you they’d let you go?”

Dream looked down, his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. Words were unneeded, you already knew the answer from the alteration in his expression alone.

And it broke your heart. “I wish I could tell you that I am different, that they constrained me to do it. They’re paying me for you, Dream… and I didn’t turn them down.”

Your insides burned as you openly admitted it. The Endless didn’t react, his eyes were still lowered, set on his own feet as he sat there and listened.

You wanted him to understand, to know your motives, to trust the nature of your actions albeit regrettable. You wished for him to be set free, but your hands were painfully tight and the figurative rope was cutting through your pride. “My father is ill. The only thing that may truly offer him the chance of living, is financially out of my reach. He wouldn’t survive without it.”

Alex Burgess got you exactly where he wanted you. The question now was, where did you really want to stand?

Dream’s blue orbs returned on you, their coldness pierced through your form and had you completely immobilized. Your heart was racing, your fingertips felt numb and the voice in your head was shouting again, begging you to stop. You would essentially become an accomplice, exploiting him for your needs and throwing even more mud at his nature.

The end justifies the means, my ass. You couldn't do this, it would just convert you into an inhuman beast.

Getting back to your senses, you were embraced by a rush of bravery. Your fingers closed into fists, so strongly that the nerves and tendons in your wrists were painfully tensed.

You sighed, making up your mind. “Don’t talk. No matter what happens, just don't say a word.”

You noticed his sternness melting away, being replaced by astonishment and confusion for your unexptected recommendation. You offered him a honest, warm smile... the kindest you had ever gifted. “I’ll buy some time for you. I’ll tell them that you’re listening, that you’re trusting me. If I manage to keep their fear at bay, maybe I can convince them to let you go. Don’t you ever talk, Dream. Not even to me.”

Alex Burgess needed your help with the Endless just as much as you needed his money. You could turn the tables and reverse the cards for your own benefit, allowing Dream to retrieve his dignity back and finally break free from the magical constraint.

Or at least, you had to make it work at all costs.

“I am truly sorry. I'm but a mere human myself, and if I were you, I probably wouldn't trust me either. For what is worth I can tell you this; I’ll do all I can to help you.”

His features softened and his rigid posture seemed to subtly relax.

“You've been left in this prison for so long, I could offer you some company in the meantime. No requests, no demands, just... me. As I am. I want to be a friend for you, if you will allow it.”

Maybe you were asking too much, as he was a higher being and you couldn't even compare to his greatness. After all the false promises he received, trusting a mortal was clearly the last of his options now, least of all befriending one.

As you did the last time you discended into the cellar, you placed the palm of your hand against the glass, pouring all your feelings into that simple gesture without breaking your smile, nor the eye contact. Dream watched you in silence, but what transpired from his gaze now, was hope.

End notes: In this chapter, I wanted to highlight Reader's inner conflict. I also have a huge respect for Paul, as he totally seems like a sweetheart in the show and I can see him taking us under his wing. Alex, however, is quite a different story. In the Netflix adaptation, he is a lot better than his father and it is clear he truly felt bad for Morpheus and wanted to set him free. However, you can't just promise someone that they can trust you and you will let them go, only to kill their freaking raven a moment later. Like yo, your father gave you the rifle, he told you to get rid of the bird, but you were the one pulling the trigger, it was your choice. Come on man.

#sorrynotsorrystillsaltyforjessamy

It may take me two more chapters before reaching the part of the escape. Since I have to cover a couple months more of staying in the house, you'll see a lot of breaks between parts and time jumps, because I have to leave out a bunch of unimportant and irrelevant descriptions/dialogues (don't want to get boring, I need to get to the juicy part y'all).

And I'm sorry, you may need to get used to long chapters from me... 😅

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 (currently reading) Go to Chapter 3 ->

Read on AO3

[thecollectiveanimeyuriband]

Meet the crew!!!! [Quick Disclaimer: This is purely fan made. None of these are the creator, Pyxilate (or Pyxilatezero, her alt)'s original characters. This is for the memes, not a serious blog. You could think of them like a VTuber agency, except I’m working alone and I’m not getting paid because I’m too young to legally make money]

⚠️SONGS WITH CURSE WORDS WILL NOT BE COVERED UNLESS A CLEAN VERSION EXISTS OR THE SONG IS EASY TO COVER WITHOUT THEM [E.G. “Eyes Half Closed” BY CRYWOLF]. ⚠️

Lead Singer & Costume Designer Rae Taylor from I’m In Love with the Villainess. Quote: “As long as it doesn’t get in the way of my Claire time.”

Stage Production & Backup Vocalist Elsa Dorothy from Please Bully Me, Miss Villainess. Quote: “If it will make Yvonne like me more, I’m down. What do you mean, I can’t cheese this with magic?”

Choreographer & Backup Vocalist Malori Crowett from Mage & Demon Queen. Quote: “You put me in charge of the choreography? It doesn’t take a genius to know I’m not the most well coordinated. Although… look at the other options.”

Head Publicist & Backup Vocalist Ruby Rose from RWBY. Quote: “You should see the other me. Whom I look like now because anime.”

Music Arrangement & Backup Vocalist Kana Arima from Oshi No Ko. Quote: “After learning that chasing after Aqua was futile, I decided to stay way from the romance department. And then [Hoshino] Ruby literally knocked down my door and said, ‘Hello, not an option.’ So I’m bisexual now.”

[Disclaimer: knowledge of this character is limited solely to the first season of Oshi No Ko as an Anime and not at all extended to the manga]

Manager, Assistant Publicist, and Forbidden from Singing Kino Himari from Whisper Me a Love Song (or Whispering You a Love Song depending on your Google translate history). Quote: “Now I can manage two wonderful bands! Although REMRK is closer to a cover performance group than a band. I wonder…”

All ships/relationships to be noted for character interactions:

I’m in Love With the Villainess: -Rae Taylor x Claire François -Manaria Sousse x Philine Nur -Yuu Bauer x Misha Jur -Lilly Lilium x Clarice Répète III

Really the only ship in Please Bully Me, Miss Villainess: -Elsa Dorothy x Yvonne Smollett

Mage & Demon Queen: -Malori Crowett x Velverosa Ghalaztox -Fenn x Leora -Cerik Aldebrandt x Melathia -Cecilia Doltessa x Fillonne

RWBY & RWBY: Ice Queendom: [there’s a lot] -Ruby Rose (RWBY) x Weiss Schnee (RWBY: Ice Queendom) -Jaune x Trauma [this is a commonly made joke by Ruby] -Yang x Blake (Universal) -Winter x Penny (RWBY) -Sun x Neptune (Universal) -Velvet x Coco (Universal) -Oscar x Whitley (RWBY) -Summer x Raven (RWBY) -Jaune x Pyrrha (RWBY: Ice Queendom) -Ren x Nora (Universal) -Cinder x Emerald (RWBY)

Oshi no Ko: Ruby Hoshino x Kana Arima Aquamarine Hoshino x Akane Kurokawa

Whisper me a Love Song: Kino Himari & Asanagi Yori Izumi Shiho x Mizuguchi Aki

[I know this is a stupid idea. Please refrain from repeating unnecessary reminders of my horrible plans gone awry. Sincerely, Pyxilate]

[fairytale-poll]

LOSER'S BRACKET ROUND 1! MATCH 7 OUT OF 8

Propaganda Under the Cut:

Queen Red Riding Hood

General Propaganda:

She's a girlboss who is sometimes a little vain but still loves her friends and will do anything to save her kingdom. Also she was in love with a guy since she was like 8 and he continuously rejected her, and then she found out he was in love with her archenemy. So yeah, she needs this.

She's kinda spoiled and high maintenance but gets better. I just think she's a fun character

i loved the land of stories series as a kid and i especially loved red because shes sooo full of herself and wears beautiful dresses and expensive jewelry and stuff (she became a queen lol) but also she does come to genuinely care for people and her friends and has a good heart (even if she does brag about it) she’s a very funny character x)

She’s a great example of how sudden fame and wealth at a young age can go to your head, and she gets great character development about it. She has an entire giant chamber in her castle full of baskets (it’s unfortunately quite flammable). My most favorite detail about her is when she finds a wolf pup in the woods, she assumes it’s a dog and names him Clawdius (yes, spelled like that). Everyone else knows it’s a wolf but no one wants to be the one to tell her. She learns the truth and gets over it and now Clawdius is her guard wolf. (Oh also she had the original Big Bad Wolf made into a winter coat, and that’s the original reason Clawdius came to her) I love her, she’s married to a giant frog man, she got elected queen, please vote for her.

Queen Red ftw!!!!!!

As you can see from these little excerpts [Mod's note: click on link to look at the excerpts] that I managed to gather in less than ten minutes, you should vote for Queen Red :D

YESSSS VOTE FOR QUEEN RED, SHE DESERVES THIS SO MUCH

Vote for Queen Red TLoS!!! She's a girlboss who married a frog man :D

Loser's Bracket Propaganda:

Queen Red deseves to win so much, she's been through so much shit for the people she loves.

Queen Red Riding Hood is a bimbo who has moments of truly genuine and deep analysis and understanding also c’mon, Clawdius!! Her enemy is the Big Bad Wolf Pack and yet she still has her own good beloved pet wolf

Red riding hood (tlos) deserves to win because she accidentally got her friend put on a wanted list when she was a kid then she got elected queen at a young age let the power get to her head then she fell in love with a giant frog (HUGE) character development and he made her a better person by opening her mind a little and she should win because shes come for far and she deserves it

The Path sisters

General Propaganda:

Each of these girls deal with their personal demons- in this case, "wolves-" as they grow and mature on the path of life. Each of them represent a different stage of a young person's life as they go through the world and the different ways in which that world can turn on that young person when they allow themselves to get lost in a dense forest, culminating in their reflection on the life they led.

the path is just a really cool underrated game idk man

i just really really like the path 🤷‍♂️

I will admit I'm only familiar with The Path through Izzzyzzz's seminal video on the subject but her Vibes are pretty iconic

(Scarlet) Most underrated sister imo. Her story is hauntingly sad and has themes of "lost of childhood" in a completely opposite way from the original Red Riding Hood, a good twist on the story.

(Ruby) The most well-known of the Path girls and the most goth, I get very sad when I see her. I know "teen angst" is a joke but sometimes I see reminders of just how full of despair teenagers can be. Her self-destructive tendencies and her "Charming Wolf" are leading her down a path (pun intended) that could kill her if she is not saved in time. It's so easy to dismiss teenage impulsion but only the survivors can.

(Ginger) Girl is so queer. Love that for her.

(Ginger) lesbiam

(Robin) Little girl sees giant wolf and wants to take it for a ride. Nuff said. (Also her room is the scariest imo. A child learning about death and their own mortality is mundane but terrifying)

Loser's Bracket Propaganda:

The Path Sisters are just ones I know too much about because of watching a video essay about them and also I think they parallel the narrative of the original fairytale really well

[ruiniel]

Prickly thorns, tender roses

Fandom: Castlevania series (2017-2021)

Rating: Mature🔞

Relationship: Alucard/Original Female Character

Characters: Alucard, Original Character(s)

Summary:

Set after the events of Castlevania (Netflix) Season III. After the betrayal of his young apprentices, Alucard feels barely alive in his lonesome castle. Days wear on, chipping away at his mind and sanity. And what is the son of Dracula to do with this unwanted visitor, suddenly come at his doorstep? Often the prickly thorn produces tender roses - Ovid

Chapter tags & warnings: Inspired by Castlevania, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, POV alternating, Post-Castlevania Season III, Bloodlust, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Non-Canon Relationship, Paranoia, Not Canon Compliant, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Kissing, Mental Anguish, Heavy Angst, Personal interpretation of post-season III Alucard

PART I

AN: first Alucard longfic from 2020. Heavily follows ‘Beauty and the Beast’ trope. There's an x Reader version of this chapter here.

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XVIII. Schemes

He reached inside the stove and retrieved the cooked dish, deeming it ready. He placed it onto the wide stovetop, eyeing it critically. Hare would do, but it had been a while since he prepared anything for anyone other than himself. And even then, Alucard had put much less care into it all. It would have been the same now, but she looked weak and needed something other than brambles and nuts.

He felt her weakness through the beating of her heart, the sluggish trudging of her blood. Even now, chambers away, if he gave in to it, Alucard could sense where she was by those regular life-giving tremors alone. 

He sighed at the irksome thought. If he were being honest, guilt played a hefty part in all of this as well, for her precarious state was owed to his actions… and it was hard enough now to smother all thoughts of her as it was. He had not told her everything, could not. He admitted drinking of her would change him, and it had. But then there was the aftermath, the lingering need for more, and Alucard thanked his human side for aiding with the niggling bloodlust that followed.

His jaw hurt and his throat dried when thinking of that pulse striking against him, on and on, raw and bursting as he’d stalked back to the castle through the night with Ravenna in his arms. He’d been afraid of his very self, of what he could so easily become—more beast than man. Struggling to keep those recurring and frightfully tempting bouts of rage in check, Alucard had grasped at her own sense of relief, almost palpable by the way it blanketed them both, craving a shred of stability as if her humanity could quench the fever engulfing him. He’d clutched her tighter despite himself for the semblance of sanity she offered, and Ravenna seemed to become smaller against him. Though Ravenna was also dazed from the blood sharing and bleeding, she clung to him like he was some… savior; like he was hers.

The mere thought was a travesty, like an unfinished jest played by a careless trickster god. The logical part of him knew there had been little choice. But now here he was, still thinking of her days after the fact, still hearing every whisper of her ruby life-stream, attempting to shield himself from the scent of her apprehension and confusion, her fascination, her desire.

The last one confused him. Who could desire someone like him? Who would want him once they knew his shame, the pathetic attempts at closeness that ended in abandonment at best, treachery and death at worst?

Patricide, hunted, cursed. He’d done nothing with his life other than react to what others have done, struggling to right wrongs, becoming the one to strike the blow.

It was partly the reason Alucard had given her the manuscript. The sooner she had what she needed and left, the better. He would find another way to restore the engine room, he did not need her for it. He did not need her at all. 

His heart denounced the lie.

Though the thought of her stepping out of his life now did strange things to his mind and placed a shroud of loss over his spirit, Alucard attributed it to the yet active connection they shared. He nearly laughed at the irony of it... one unwilling, the other unaware. When he helped with her wrist after the attack in the forest, he barely kept himself from pinning her down, piercing her neck and having more. The knowledge that Ravenna would probably let him made it harder to ignore, though his control never slipped so far. He’d felt nothing like it before, the memory of his strength and heightened state while spiked on her blood still so fresh, so tempting. Despite not needing blood to survive, his father had warned him of its intoxicating and addictive effects. And oh, that did not even begin to describe it.

Alucard ran a hand over his face in exasperation. It was better now, easier to cope with. He no longer felt the pull, but something else shook him out of his usually resigned and morose state of mind. The way the Styrian looked at him. The way neither of them could ever say what lurked beyond their minds, and what he’d discovered dwelling within her.

No, it was better this way. Let sleeping dogs lie—she had another purpose here, and he had nothing else to offer her.

A rustling sound of material cut his thoughts, and his face shuttered when Ravenna entered the kitchen. One of her wrists was still bandaged, and she wore a dark dress with long sleeves that flared at the hips. He did not remember this one. There was that quirk of her eyebrow which, Alucard had come to know, heralded a biting remark or another.

“I never took you for a cook,” Ravenna chimed as she eyed the cast iron dish.

Alucard huffed, placing the cooked hare on the table. “Need is the greatest of tutors, but I think you know this.” Ravenna smiled, and he bit the inside of his cheek. “But you forget there was a human living here.”

“Of course...” Ravenna sat down at a motion of his hand. “Your mother. That is endearing, Adrian—that she taught you, that is!”

“I did enjoy indulging in it at times,” Alucard caught himself saying as he went to the counter and returned, placing a bottle on the table which caught her attention.

“And you no longer do?” Ravenna asked.

Alucard made a sound that might have been a hum. Her prying questions on such irrelevant aspects of himself were always delightful. “You tell me, after dinner.” Was he actually engaging in small talk? 

“What is this?” Ravenna jerked her chin at the wine.

He uncorked the bottle and took two tall glasses from a cupboard, glancing at Ravenna briefly.

Ravenna had rarely seen glass items before, having not been in any noble houses to speak of. “No, I...” She lifted a hand when Alucard poured the second glass, “... I’m not accustomed to it.”

Alucard looked aghast. “Try things before you denounce them, will you?” He handed her the wine.

Ravenna narrowed her eyes but took the proffered item, watching the swirling of the scarlet liquid before taking a wary sip; it was rich and somewhat dry to the taste, with a fruity aroma. “It is… good.”

His smile was haughty, but Ravenna did not take the bait.

“No retort? Is there something the matter with you?” Alucard prodded with the barest hint of teasing. 

Ravenna took a piece of game. “I am simply too happy and grateful to regale you with stings.” Her eyes bore into his. “Does my cheer bother you?”

He snorted and shook his head, valiantly ignoring the rushing flow from her center, hastening through her veins. It was much more potent. Perhaps giving her red wine had not been the best endeavor.

The rest of the meal passed in companionable silence, interrupted by bouts of chatter here or there. Mundane nothings, moments he would certainly not miss when she left, for their peculiar effect that shattered his guard and left him wanting, though he had not the faintest idea what it was. When they were done, Alucard stood, giving Ravenna a brief questioning glance before he took the plates away. 

Ravenna had come to enjoy the soft torpor from the wine. “I will admit. That was one of the best meals I’ve ever had.” And she lounged back in the chair, pointing a slight finger at him. “Don’t let it get to your head.” Her smile was careless, her reserved facade turned brighter, bolder.

Alucard had taken his seat back at the table opposite Ravenna and lightly leaned over with his forearms on the dark surface. There was a thickness in his throat as he sensed her body leaning into the table, towards him. “Forgive me, but much already has.” He was smiling, his stance more carefree than before; he rested his face in his palm, watching her without the trace of a glare.

Ravenna slowly leaned back against the chair, staring at him with a raised eyebrow and an uncertain smile. “You can come back from it, if you try.”

He grinned. “Yes, they are called night creatures.”

“Don’t be crude.”

“Listen, scholar…” Alucard rose from the table.

“Whenever you say that, you turn glum and sometimes insulting,” Ravenna sang.

He shrugged, heading over to the washing counter. “I thought your order valued different perspectives. I envy your optimist resolve, I do. But it is not how I feel.”

His words had been soft but stressed with belief, and again a heavy weariness, that Ravenna pushed no more.

Alucard turned to busy himself at the counter. Sighing, she rose from the chair. “Do you need any help there?”

The sun had yet to set when Ravenna retreated to the usual place where evenings ended: the study. Ravenna had wanted to join him, and Alucard did nothing to deter her. She told him how brilliant the gifted tome was, how she’d already delved into its knowledge, how it would be a significant step forward; how beholden she was for it.

Some time and two bottles of wine later, Ravenna was sprawled on her side onto the divan, her chin resting in her palm, listening to him speak. Ravenna had asked of his family, and in a rare show of openness, he’d shared of his brief childhood, of the meaningful moments he remembered. Ravenna spoke of Styria and its workings, the hardships its people faced, of her own rather sheltered life as an apprentice.

Presently he was regarding the portrait of his mother that he’d retrieved and now held in his hands. “My father tried, but I owe her most of what I am,” Alucard said, and it was liberating to speak of her to someone. Ever since she died, he’d not spoken of it, truly spoken of it, to anyone but his father. And he was no longer here. “I was raised to believe I represented both kindreds, and to strive to become the best of either.” His smile faded.

“The way you speak... is it your belief that you failed?” Ravenna wondered, saddened by his change of mood. He did not deserve this misery, the loneliness, any of it. He deserved...

He turned his head, propped against the backrest of his armchair. There was a glimmer in his eyes, which Ravenna attributed to the wine. She did feel strange. Her limbs became slack, her head spun, and she was pleasantly numb all over.

“I do not know,” he said. “I used to think I knew what I wanted. Not so now.” Saying this, he suddenly looked uneasy, lost, the placid manner fading before a despondency so deep it crept upon her heart.

Maybe it was the drink, but Ravenna hurt for him. She nodded once, looking in her lap where she fingered the soft weave of a light blanket pulled over her feet. Ravenna looked back at him. “We’ve only known each other for a little while, but...” She licked her lips, uneasy beneath his questioning stare. “But I think there is no need to strive, not for you. You’ve been through so much, but never forgot mercy. You saved my life,” she shook her head, “more than once, and showed me kindness I’ve rarely seen from my people.”

Alucard looked down at his hands, and when his gaze met hers again, it raked over in a way that riled, bringing forth the same need as before.

Ravenna wanted him close, wanted something of him and he would not look away, not even when she rose unsteadily from the divan, slowly stepping towards him, trapped in a trance, guided by his stare.

Emboldened and rather dazed, she neared him even as the light in his eyes changed from questioning to cold.

But he deserved...

For the first time since his feeding on her, Ravenna wanted more. For the first time, she felt a calling, vague and smothered, but Ravenna knew it was him.

Alucard watched, warily, doing nothing when she leaned in closer.

Her eyes were on his ageless face, trailing to his mouth — that sweet, dangerous mouth Ravenna both feared and craved to feel. But there came the vehement opposition of a wall, built of seeping resentment and barely contained fury, and only late did Ravenna sense it was coming from him. His hands now shook imperceptibly and his fingers jerked, clasping the sides of his seat, his eyes lit with near bestial ferocity. He was frightening; he was beautiful.

Alucard swallowed. Yes, wine had been a terrible idea. What was she doing?

Ravenna felt no fear, but knew this was uncharted territory. She saw it in the way he watched her, heard it in that wordless calling.

“Adrian...” she reached and ran a hand through his hair; his eyes closed. There brimmed the need to show him there was more to life than pain, more to humanity than the ghosts of his past; she wanted to prove it to him. Ravenna allowed all the honesty she felt to surface into her words. “I know what I want,” she said, her voice gaining a throaty quality.

Gradually, his eyes softened under her stare, the death grip on his seat relinquished. “And what is that?” came the barely audible question.

“More of... more of you,” Ravenna said even as he went rigid, “... and I want to know what it feels like... to...” Ravenna reached for one of his wrists, running the sleeve of his shirt up to touch the scarred skin. When She leaned in, his eyes narrowed, and for the first time she saw a trace of fear in them.

“Don’t.”

His warning came faint, his voice strangled, laced with so much burdened craving it failed to discourage her. And he knew it — he also felt drunk on the scent of her blood, and as free as he was of the compulsion to drink her dry, it called to him incessantly ever since she’d foolishly offered it to him. The torturous pumping of violent red through her chest, down her womb, pulsing lower—

His eyes widened when her lips ghosted the corner of his mouth; the portrait slid from his lap, falling to the floor.

Alucard gripped the edge of his seat, and in hateful submission, his other arm came strongly around her waist, forcing Ravenna rather clumsily down to him.

He grasped her hair and buried his face in the crook of her neck, breathing her in for a long moment. “Why...” he asked, the word muffled into her. A strange question, even to him. In a sudden move, he sought her mouth and pressed his lips to hers.

Everything stilled. Her breath tickled, warm and sweet. The tip of his tongue grazed her lips, and he tensed when Ravenna whimpered against his mouth. He took the lead, fingers trembling in her hair as he languidly sucked on her lower lip, lingering on the feel of it; feeding on her hunger. She tasted of hot wine and berries.

This is wrong, it is wrong, his sanity fumed, but the truth was he had missed this... this ache, the warmth of another. It filled the void, and she felt so good against him... he was close to drowning. With a strangled groan, he forced Ravenna into him and deepened the kiss.

The wood splintered where his long fingers clutched the armrest, but he could not help it. Something would break, and it was either this, or her. And the most disconcerting was how weak this was making him. It was a dangerous sort of power, and one that nearly cost him his life once.

But her scent...

“Adrian, please,” Ravenna cooed, a hand trailing down his neck, gingerly following the line of his ragged, winding scar. Her fingers reached lower on burning skin, her palm splayed over warm, hardened muscle. His quickened heartbeat thundered under her touch as Ravenna nipped at his lips, smiling when he broke away to lead a burning trail from her mouth to her cheek, along her jaw, losing more of himself with every moment. The moan Ravenna had been striving to keep at bay rose in her chest, up her throat, smothered by his kiss; he sucked on her lower lip with a velvet release before pressing his cheek to hers. It was a feat to regain his shallow breathing.

Ravenna felt something hardening against her hip as she lay draped over him on her side, and without thought, pressed herself into it. She heard a harsh intake of breath, his fingers tightening at the nape of her neck.

Alucard let his head fall back and held her lower body down, kneading her against him with possessive, repetitive friction; his hand dug into her hip. “Ravenna…” he whispered mindlessly, mirroring the pulsing rhythm of her blood in his movements. “Are you certain?...” 

Ravenna only nodded, swaying with his lead. It had been so long since he melted into someone else and shared—

Ruthless, the memory of a similar event where dream turned nightmare resurfaced, turning pleasure to ash, and his mind began to seethe. This felt so sadly, awfully familiar. But she would not... there had always been a type of honesty about her which Alucard tried his best to rebuke, and there was honesty in the way she touched and tasted—

… but it had been the same with them. He’d sensed their lust well enough. And it had not deterred them from their plan of ending him, not in the least. He’d been no less blind to their game, and what was there to keep history from repeating itself?

Even bearing these thoughts, he still responded, crushing Ravenna to him to the point of painfulness, kissing her deeper. For one split shard of time, he allowed himself the freedom to bask in the visions of her blood and need; of her lying on her back, her hands around her head; bare skin, seeking him—

No.

And from beyond silent hedges of thought, the past burst to the surface, carrying all the brunt of scalding pain and irrational fear, burning away all hopes and desires.

Who could desire someone like you?

Ravenna was utterly lost in the haze of his taste when, with a hiss, Alucard sharply pulled her head away, severing their breathless kiss and forcing her to meet his eyes.

“Is this your game, then?” he tilted his head to the side, his expression morphing into one of calculating feline curiosity. Her pulse stumbled so fast, fuel to his desperation. “Well? Will you tell me I am lonely?” he asked, gazing at her astonished face, lips swollen and wet, parted in surprise at the vicious interruption.

“What do you mean—?”

“Will you tell me it was time for my reward? What did you reckon? Well, pretty little fool, I am not so removed from your ways as you think. But I never expected you to attempt the same scheme,” he followed, and his voice was ice. “How... disappointing.”

“Adrian,” Ravenna swallowed, “what is it you speak of?”

“You humans never do think too far ahead,” he spoke, still breathless because of her and all the angrier for it. “You think you know me so well, do you? That you understand what my existence entails after what I’ve done?” he tilted his head to the other side. “Maybe I should turn you...” his gaze raked over her with contempt.

“No—,” Ravenna croaked desperately, wondering where Adrian had gone. This was not him. “Please, I—”

“Why not? Don’t you want to know what it feels like?” Alucard threw, his hand still harshly grasping her hair back so her neck was exposed. He watched her with a cruel smile, his darkened eyes following the rise and fall of her breasts through her dress, the life thrum at her throat, the lips he had tasted.

“There is no scheme!” Ravenna cried. “How can you say these things!?” she tried, deeply unsettled by the hateful manner of his words. “Think! Would I attempt to retrieve you from peril if I wanted you gone, if I wanted to hurt you?”

He huffed, a cold, manic light brimming in his eyes like icy daggers to strike. “You did not have what you needed yet.” His fingers tightened in her hair. “You did not know where to find it, but I’m sure you knew it had to be here. All that and more.”

Ravenna could barely believe her ears. Where had his usually unfeeling and pragmatic logic gone? “Damn this to hell, I feel for you, I only wanted to show you that I do. Adrian—”

She gasped when she fell into the armchair, holding nothing. Her gaze shot upward to see Adrian on his feet.

“Get out,” he demanded lowly, turning his back on her.

“Will you… at least tell me what I’ve done? Please, forgive me, whatever it was.” Ravenna rose to stand, one hand reaching for him. “Believe me, I would never harm you—”

She froze when he lashed at her, his vampiric side rushing to the fore, flaring menacingly. “Get.OUT! “ The harsh command echoed off the walls as Alucard rounded on her with blazing red eyes.

Shaking and frightened, Ravenna took one step back, then another. Her lower lip quivered; his touch still burned into her skin.

But then his stance mellowed, as though he were suddenly very fatigued, propping his hand against the fireside for support. His shoulders rose and fell with each heavy breath. He was looking anywhere but at her. “I want you… out of my home before the night is over,” he ordered, making her flinch.

“And where would I go?” Ravenna asked with a newfound, raking sort of hurt pride, a wayward look of disbelief in her eyes.

“That is your concern, not mine,” Alucard retorted tiredly, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Adrian—” Ravenna tried again, only to be cut off by a scalding look.

“You’ll regret ever setting foot here otherwise,” he snapped, his words chopped and shaking.

Trembling like a leaf, Ravenna bit down the crippling misery that piled up her throat. “I already do,” she spewed before turning on her heel and dashing out of his sight, sparing no glance back.

PREV NEXT

[beelicious-and-fictitious]

Joel Kinnaman Character Masterlist

Main Masterlist

This is a collection of my all of my fics written as pairings for Joel Kinnaman’s characters. All NSFW fics are marked as SMUT!

***all unfinished series/ fics are on hiatus***

Original Character Fics

Ruby Moon Sunflower Seeds (unfinished series) | Teaser One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Face Cast

Rick Flag X OC Kaia Castle. He’s a soldier, she has superpowers, and there’s something there between them. More than he knows: until one day he’s fucking around with a new job and alien tech and discovers that she had his baby... and his girls in danger.

Reader Insert Fics

Detective Stephen Holder from The Killing (tv show 2011-2014)

Royal Flush | 3k words 🔥SMUT🔥 | you play strip poker with your buddy Stephen

Can’t Stay Mad At You | 3.3k words 🔥SMUT🔥 | your boyfriend Stephen is late because of work (again) and he tries his best to make it up to you

Just Ask | 5.3k words 🔥SMUT🔥 | your boyfriend Stephen thinks pussy eating is fake and you show him how wrong he is

Every Little Step (unfinished series) | [on old Masterlist]

Stephen Holder X Mom! POC! Reader. Stephen meets you, a fellow detective at Seattle Police Department and recovering alcoholic. He falls for you and your adorable daughter instantly.

Colonel Rick Flag from DCEU Suicide Squad (2019)/ The Suicide Squad (2020)

French Lace And Silk Stockings | 2k words 🔥SMUT🔥 | 1950′s AU where you try on some lingerie your husband Rick bought you

Safe Harbor | 6.5k words 🔥SMUT🔥 | Rick can’t seem to depressurize from the horrors of the latest mission but you can help with that

Silver Ghosts | Drabble Challenge: less than 1k word limit | Written for the March 2022 GFS Drabble Project

Tamagotchi | Drabble Challenge: less than 1k word limit | Written for the April 2022 GFS Drabble Project

Think You Can Handle That Much? | 1.4k words 🔥SMUT🔥 | My one and only fic request! You (can be read also as OC Kaia Castle) are freaking out about the wedding and your fiance Rick knows just how to calm you

Twelve of Thirty-One Kinktober 2021 Prompts | *word count is tagged at the beginning of every fic* 🔥SMUT🔥 | Prompts completed for Rick are as follows numerically: 5-10, 15-17, 20, 23, & 25. More info in Kinktober 2021 Masterlist (linked above)

Takeshi Kovacs (Ryker Sleeve) from Altered Carbon

Rose Venemum | 4.3k words 🔥SMUT🔥 | You ask Tak to help you with a mission and discover a new kink or two

Two of Thirty-One Kinktober 2021 Prompts | 1.5k + 2k words 🔥SMUT🔥 | Prompts completed with Takeshi Kovacs were “Day Fourteen: Temperature Play/ Bath Shower Sex” and “Day Nineteen: Impact Play”

Erik Heller from Hanna (tv show 2019-2021)

A Southward Breeze | Drabble mode: less than 1k word limit | Written for the May 2022 GFS Drabble Project

\\Return to Main Masterlist for more fics by yours truly//