#if you ask my response will simply be ~*blood magic*~

[dancingbirdie]

Okay so on Astarion, I was reading this fic about him not knowing Tavs true intentions with him and it bothering Astarion a lot, so what if he goes to some mage or magic user and asks them to show Tavs true intentions to him, when he does the vision he sees is just... being snuggled. It's Tav on top of him and the both of you are falling asleep, his hands are under your shirt softly petting your skin as your sleepy self is contently snuggled up to him. I just start crying about him finding out that Tavs DASTARDLY and EVIL plan with him, their greatest desire from him... is to simply be held. 🥺

Hi @goblin-creatcher! Thank you so much for this BEAUTIFUL prompt. I, uhh, kind of took it and went a million miles an hour with it. This is honestly one of my favorite things I've ever written. I hope you enjoy it as well! xoxoxo

Something Imagined / Something Real

Word Count: 3.9K

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Astarion x f!Tav

Warnings/Tags: Brief but detailed description of rough consensual sex, descriptions and references to Astarion's trauma/trauma responses, minor Act 1 and Act 2 spoilers, FLUFF, angst

Suggested Song Pairing: Slow Dancing in A Burning Room (Stripped) - cover by ST LUNA

Summary: Astarion has been suspicious of Tav’s true intentions toward him. He persuades Gale to cast a spell and reveal her motivations. ANGST and FLUFF ensue. A rewriting of Astarion’s confession scene from Act 2.

The sun had just begun to set on the campsite when Astarion decided to put his plan into action. He had waited until Tav departed with some of the other party members before making his way over to the wizard. Gale was too busy reassembling the bookshelf inside his tent to notice Astarion’s approach. It wasn’t until he gave a polite cough that Gale jumped and whirled to face him. 

“No, no, no,” he began all at once, hands raised in a sort of shooing motion. Astarion stared at him in confusion. “I can respect Tav’s indulging in your need for blood, but as I’ve said before: I taste terrible.” 

Astarion scoffed. “Charming. Actually, wizard, I was coming to request your aid in a different, though somewhat related, matter.”

“Really? Care to elaborate?” Gale responded, still somewhat wary. It wasn’t often he found himself alone with the vampire. 

“Testy, I see,” Astarion crooned teasingly. His knee-jerk response to people treating him like a monster, to behave in the most false saccharine sort of way. 

But he drew up short, censoring himself before saying anything else he might regret. He knew he needed to get on the wizard’s good side if he had any chance of getting the answers he sought. 

“I was hoping you knew a spell to reveal someone’s true intentions. Their… motivations for behaving in a certain way, so to speak,” he finished more seriously. 

Gale pondered the question for a moment before answering. 

“Hmm… yes, there is magic to determine that sort of thing… Although it’s been some time since I practiced it…” He trailed off, rubbing his chin in thought. 

“Why are you asking for such a thing?” he asked suddenly. 

Astarion had been prepared for this question, of course. No one did anything for free, no questions asked. He delivered his explanation perfectly, as he’d been rehearsing in his mind.

“One might say our dear sweet Tav and I have been growing a bit… closer these days, but I can sense a master manipulator when I see one. I just simply want to ensure their intentions toward me - toward the party - are true,” he replied with mock innocence. 

“Ah, yes,” Gale nodded. “I gathered as much when the two of you slipped away from the tiefling’s party a few nights ago.” 

“But,” he continued on,”I needn’t think you should worry when it comes to Tav. She seems about as transparent as they come. I’m sure any intentions she has toward you are true.”

Yes, but the best actors always mask their motivations behind innocence and transparency, Astarion thought to himself. I should know. I’ve been doing it for centuries.

After the party’s unfortunate meeting with that Gur in the Sunlit Wetlands, Astarion realized he would have to take potential threats from Cazador even more seriously. He wasn’t about to lose his freedom, not now that he finally had some small taste of it. 

It didn’t hurt to be more suspicious of everyone he encountered, even the sweetling Tav. Anyone could be an operative sent by Cazador, and the best ones would be as skilled as he was in the art of manipulation. It was well-known at this point that the person he’d grown the closest to on their journey was their brave party leader, Tav. Unlikely as it may be that she was scheming for his master, Astarion’s paranoia wouldn’t let him indulge in interactions with her a second longer unless he knew how she truly felt. 

Given Gale’s hesitation, Astarion knew he would have to kick his acting up a notch. Press on that wizard’s heartstrings. Touch the one nerve he knew he was sensitive to.

“Gale, darling, from one literally damaged soul to another, indulge me just this once,” Astarion beseeched him. 

The wizard glared at him a moment, before finally relenting with a heavy sigh. “Fine. Fine. But I want it known that I don’t agree with this so-called solution one whit,” he grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Yes, yes, noted and formally documented, on my word as a former Baldurian magistrate,” Astarion replied cheerily. “So, let’s hop to it then, shall we?”

“What, right now?” Gale asked, shocked. “Shouldn’t we be, I don’t know, a little less conspicuous?” 

“What better time than now?” Astarion responded. “Tav’s out gathering firewood with Wyll and Karlach. They won’t be back for some time. As for Lae’zel and Shadowheart, well…” he paused, gesturing over his shoulder. 

Said two were engaged in a heated sparring session on the outskirts of the camp. Snarls and curses could be heard emanating from both warriors as they tried, and failed, to gain the upper hand against their opponent.

“That lovers’ dance could go on until morning,” Astarion finished. 

“Fair point,” Gale admitted begrudgingly, grimacing at the sound of swords clashing violently. “Very well. Let’s get started.” 

Clearing his throat, Gale began to utter a series of phrases completely foreign to Astarion. He watched as the wizard began moving his hands in a wavelike pattern, forming a circle before them. Suddenly, a mist began to form from seemingly thin air, taking shape according to the boundaries Gale’s hands were creating. The mist grew more and more opaque until it appeared before them like a clouded mirror. 

As the fogginess of the ethereal magic began to clear, the “mirror” became a confusing blur of scenes whipping by, too fast for Astarion or Gale to really comprehend. There were flashes of Tav and Astarion, together and separate, but they disappeared too quickly to ascertain their context. It was as though the spell was shuffling through the entirety of Tav’s thoughts, assessing each one at breakneck speed. 

Finally, the spell slowed to a halt, stopping on one scene in particular. Astarion was struck speechless by what began playing out in the foggy portal before them. So distracted, he didn’t even notice Gale’s tight cough, or how the wizard suddenly became intensely interested in a copse of trees nearby, rather than the revelation the spell was revealing.

Not that the scene was especially profound, objectively speaking. In fact, to anyone else, it might be viewed as the least revelatory thing possible that the spell could have shown. Boring. Inconsequential, even. But to Astarion, it was almost earth shattering. 

He saw himself - he could see his face! - with Tav, lying tangled together in some immaculate four-poster bed. 

That was the first shock that coursed through him, nearly causing his knees to buckle. He was seeing himself for the first time in over 200 years. Or at least, he was seeing himself as Tav saw him. And… the person he saw… Well, he was gorgeous. White blonde locks, curled and tousled in a devil-may-care sort of way. A strong, patrician nose that suggested good breeding. High, sharp cheekbones. Full lips, upturned in a thoughtless grin. Red eyes bordered by long, sweeping lashes. Delicately pointed elven ears. Smooth alabaster skin, without blemish or spot. 

Astarion could scarcely believe his own eyes. 

The second shock to his system was the nature of their activities. He would have been less surprised had the vision shown them fucking. Him taking her roughly from behind perhaps. His name a cry of ecstasy from her lips as he pistoned in and out of her with a feral sort of determination. 

Fantasies of lust, of total domination, now those were things he was familiar with inspiring in the minds of the victims he had taken as lovers. It was what he strove for, in all honesty. Desire like that all but ensured he would capture his prey and live to serve another day for his master. 

But nothing of the sort was occurring between vision-Tav and himself. Instead, they were just… embracing? What in sweet hells was this?

She lay halfway on top of him. Her hair was mussed, perhaps from sleep or perhaps from previous lovemaking. One hand was drawing absentminded shapes across his chest, her lips trailing behind, leaving kisses in their wake. He watched as vision-Astarion chuckled softly, as his hands slipped beneath her sleepshirt to caress her waist, as he placed an innocent kiss on the top of Tav’s head. Eventually, she reached for his hand. They both watched their fingers intertwine, blissfully content.

It was the purest, unadulterated expression of affection that Astarion had ever seen. Something in his heart quaked at the sight of it. He wanted that moment. He envied, he hated, vision-Astarion for enjoying such apparent happiness.

So absorbed in the vision and its implications, Astarion failed to notice the soft padding of feet that indicated someone’s re-entry into the camp. 

“If the two of you are quite finished poking around in my head,” an angry voice suddenly spat from behind them, “I’d appreciate you preserving what little privacy I have left and shutting that damn spell off.”

Mortified, Astarion and Gale turned to see Tav, arms crossed and visibly seething with rage. Gale quickly dispelled the magic with a flick of his wrist. A blush was slowly but surely rising up Tav’s neck to reach her cheeks. Whether from rage or embarrassment, Astarion couldn’t be certain. 

“Tav, let us explain-” Astarion started.

“It was his idea-” Gale blurted at the same time, pointing at Astarion. 

Both paused, glaring at one another. But Tav would have none of their feeble attempts at backpedaling. 

“The explanation doesn’t matter. Whose idea it was doesn’t matter. The fact is that both of you violated the privacy of my mind, which I’ll remind you, has ALREADY been violated by having a bloody tadpole forced inside of it!” Tav shouted. At their words, the camp became enveloped in a heavy silence. Even the crickets ceased their chirping.

Astarion cringed inwardly, knowing the other party members could plainly hear this altercation and had likely stopped whatever it was that they had been doing to listen in. He noted the sounds of swords clanging together had ceased. He was certain Lae’zel and Shadowheart at least were aware of what was happening. Nosy bastards, all of them.

But what disturbed him even more was the realization that Tav’s eyes were welling with tears. She was too proud to acknowledge them or wipe them away. Such was her nature. But they were there nonetheless, and the knowledge that Astarion had brought her to the point of tears was enough to spur a rush of utter self-loathing inside him.

Without another word, Tav turned on her heel and marched stiffly out of camp, toward the direction of a nearby creek they’d identified as a water source earlier in the day.

“I can’t believe I let you convince me to perform that spell,” Gale said as she disappeared between the trees. He dragged his hands down his face. 

“How could we have been so doltish, forgetting that all of our privacies have already been violated with this tadpole business?”

Astarion didn’t have an answer to that. At least, not one the wizard could possibly understand. 

The thought hadn’t occurred to Astarion, he realized, because violations of privacy had been something so intrinsic to his being for over 200 years. He didn’t even recognize it as something abnormal. Like a fish unaware that the water surrounding it is, in fact, water. 

Violations of privacy were a part of life, at least for him. So much so that his request for Gale to perform that magic hadn’t even occurred to him as an overstepping of boundaries. To Astarion, it had simply been a matter of survival. He had needed to know another potentially manipulative person’s true intentions, and so he had found a means to uncover it and maintain the upper hand. 

Belatedly, he also realized that Gale’s hesitation to cast the spell had had nothing to do with being inconvenienced for the evening, but because the wizard had known that it was improper to do to another person. If he had misread that, Astarion wondered, then what other truly benevolent behaviors had he mistaken as pragmatic manipulation?

“I need to go find her,” Astarion murmured, clenching and unclenching his fists in an uncharacteristic fit of uncertainty. 

“Yes, you do,” Gale asserted. “We both owe her a sincere apology… if she’ll even accept it.”

“I’ll see if I can convince her to come back to camp,” Astarion replied, making to leave in the direction Tav had stormed off. 

“Wait,” Gale said, a hand on his shoulder. Astarion turned to meet his gaze. 

“Look, well, I’m obviously not an expert in healthy demonstrations of affection. But I do think it’s obvious from what you saw in that spell that Tav well and truly cares about you. In perhaps the purest way possible. Treat that carefully.”

Part of Astarion wanted to laugh aloud in utter hopelessness at the wizard’s advice. Someone cared for him? Truly and purely? No hidden games, no strings attached? Oh certainly, that wouldn’t be a problem for Astarion at all. Obviously, his 200-year existence as a master-manipulator-fetch-hound for a power-hungry vampire lord had perfectly prepared him to respond to this situation in a healthy manner. Obviously.

But all that was too much to reveal to someone he barely knew and too heavy to say aloud. Rather than giving some smarmy retort, Astarion opted instead to give a stiff nod and continue walking toward the edge of camp. He had no idea how he could make things right with Tav, but at the very least he could try. 

***

He found Tav sitting on a fallen tree near the edge of the creek bed. Her legs were drawn up to her chest, arms wrapped around them as she rested a cheek to her knees. In the waning twilight, she reminded Astarion of some misbegotten gargoyle perched on the roof of a temple, solitary and so very sad. 

Her ears twitched as she noted his arrival. Astarion wasn’t trying to be stealthy. On top of everything else, the last thing he needed to do was scare her. 

“Can I join you?” he asked softly, wincing to himself at the awkwardness of the question. 

The reality was that there was no way to broach this conversation without some stilted beginning, and he hated it. Navigating tricky conversations was normally something he excelled at. But as he was quickly finding, when it related to Tav, nothing in his past life had prepared him to respond to her well. 

“If you’d like,” Tav answered tonelessly. 

Knowing it was probably the best response he was going to get, Astarion swallowed thickly and moved to sit down on the log next to her. 

“I… wanted to… apologize for what you saw, back at camp,” he began.

“Apologize for doing it, or apologize for getting caught?” Tav asked as she turned her head to look at him, resting her other cheek on her knees. 

Astarion balked at the question. Her piercing gaze unnerved him. He hadn’t really thought that far. 

“Both, I suppose?” he answered honestly, although it sounded more like a question to Tav. She huffed a laugh.

“You know, part of me really wants to yell at you. Scream in your face. Tell you off proper,” she mused.

“So why don’t you?” Astarion asked, perplexed. 

Tav didn’t respond at first, just sat there studying him. As if by staring at him long enough, she could project the answer into his mind. 

Astarion didn’t interrupt her, much as he would have liked to. Part of him always bristled when people gazed at him for too long. It was unfair that they could study him, when he hadn’t been able to so much as glance at his reflection in over 200 years. 

Finally, Tav released a heavy sigh, her body curling further in on itself. She closed her eyes as she spoke.

“Because then I would be just like every other bastard in your life who’s mistreated you.”

Astarion flinched in surprise. Those had not been the sort of words he’d been expecting. The truth of them cut deeper than had she raged at him like she wanted to. It left him feeling even more vulnerable, and that in turn made him want to retreat into the comfort of viciousness.

“I don’t need you to pull any punches,” he scoffed, glaring at her. “Go ahead and say what you will.”

She straightened up at his tone, opening her eyes and returning his glare. 

“No. I don’t want to,” she said testily.

“I don’t need your pity,” he hissed. “It’s insulting.”

“Gods damn it all, Astarion!” Tav exclaimed suddenly, causing him to jump in surprise. She threw her hands up in defeat. “I’m not doing anything out of pity! I don’t want to rage at you, because I know that whatever I say right now, I won’t mean it come the morning!”

Astarion blinked. Once again he was left feeling flat footed by the turn of the conversation. Sensing his surprise, Tav continued on with her deluge of words.

“You hurt me tonight, and I’m angry at you - and at Gale, for that matter - for what you did. But you’ve shared enough of your… history… with me, that I realize your behavior is just… just a byproduct of centuries of abuse and manipulation you’ve endured! And I won’t be another abuser in your life. I won’t,” she asserted. 

Astarion continued staring at her, as if she were some otherworldly creature that had just wandered across his path. He watched as Tav inhaled a deep breath, releasing it shakily. She turned away from him to peer out into the forest, uncertain. She opened and closed her mouth several times before actually speaking. As if whatever she was about to say was more intimidating to her than anything else she’d said tonight. 

“I… care deeply for you, Astarion,” she said quietly. “You obviously saw that in the vision. I’m not playing any games. There’s no hidden motive. I’m not trying to manipulate you.”

She turned to look at him again before continuing, her breathing a bit unsteady. 

“I didn’t sleep with you that night of the tiefling party as some sort of maneuver to gain your trust. Although I understand if that was your motivation for doing so.” 

Astarion’s expression morphed into one of guilt. But Tav nodded soberly, as if she had already expected it, before continuing on. 

“It’s okay. I’m not angry. But I’m putting all my cards on the table now, so to speak. Actually, your decision tonight forced my hand, but I had been planning on telling you soon anyway. So, there you have it. The truth of my intentions. What you do with that information is up to you.”

She turned back to gaze out at their surroundings. Like she was giving him the opportunity to bolt away without her watching him. As if she expected him to flee from her confession. 

But Astarion didn’t flee. He remained seated, staring at her in complete wonderment. 

“Why?” he asked quietly.

She looked back at him again, confusion evident on her face. 

“Why what?”

“Why do you care for me? You’re so… well-adjusted. And I’m well… this,” he finished lamely, placing a hand on his chest. 

Tav pursed her lips. “It would be a mistake to misconstrue my empathy for you as me being well-adjusted. Everyone has their own demons, Astarion,” she murmured. “Mine just look different from yours.”

Astarion mulled her words over in his mind, considering them. He leaned forward to brace his forearms on his knees, his head drooping slightly. 

“I…,” he started, unsure. “That vision… what it implied… You deserve something real, Tav. You’re incredible… truly.” 

Tav closed her eyes, bracing for the fallout. Even though she would accept his decision, whatever it was, she didn’t think she could bear to watch him deny her. It would hurt too much. 

“Look. When we met, I had a plan. A nice, simple plan,” he blurted all at once. Rising swiftly to his feet, Tav watched as he began to pace before her, near to bursting with frenetic energy. 

“Seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so you’d never turn on me,” he counted off, laughing half-heartedly. “It was… easy - instinctive. Habits from two hundred years of charming people kicked in. All you had to do was fall for it. And all I had to do… was not fall for you… which is where my nice, simple plan fell apart,” he finished, stopping to stand before her. 

She held his gaze, speechless. 

“I want you,” he whispered fervently. “I want what was in that vision… I want us to be something real.”

Never in a million years had she thought he would respond to her like this. She opened her mouth to speak, but Astarion cut her off with another sudden exclamation. 

“I just don’t know what real is,” he confessed, his tone a touch hysterical. Tav knew from his body language that being this transparent was completely out of Astarion’s comfort zone. 

“Being… close to someone - any kind of intimacy - was something I performed to lure people back. For him. Even though I know things between us are different, being with someone still feels… tainted. Still brings up those feelings of disgust, and loathing. I… I don’t know how else to be with someone. No matter how much I’d like to,” he finished, staring at her with beseeching eyes, willing her to understand.

Tav rose to her feet, coming to stand before him. 

“I don’t want you for your body,” she whispered. “Or to perform any acts of intimacy. We can be together, without sleeping together, for as long as you need.”

“Really,” he asked softly, his voice pitched low, rough with emotion.

“Really,” Tav asserted, giving him a small smile. “Would it be all right if…” she paused, conflicted. He eyed her curiously.

“Could I hug you?” she whispered.

The fact that she asked before doing so caused a well of emotion to spring up inside him. Eyes watering, Astarion nodded. 

Slowly, Tav moved forward to wrap her arms around his waist. Her head nestled into the crook of his neck and shoulder. A perfect fit. He felt her exhale a deep sigh.

Tav hugging him was a sensation unlike any he had ever felt. At least, any he could remember feeling. The act of being touched, embraced, without any desire for something more. She just wanted to hold him, feel him close to her. It was incomprehensible to him, but utterly enjoyable, at the same time. 

Slowly, ever so slowly, Astarion raised his arms to return Tav’s embrace. Drawing her even closer, he bowed his head to rest his cheek against her hair. It was soft, like the finest silk. He closed his eyes as he inhaled deeply, appreciating her sweet, floral scent.   

She made to pull away after a moment, not wishing to overwhelm him. But Astarion gripped her more firmly, a silent urge for them to stay that way a little longer. 

“This… this is nice,” he whispered. 

He both felt and heard Tav hum contentedly in response. 

It wasn’t identical to the vision from Tav’s mind that he had seen, but Astarion reveled in their embrace nonetheless. It felt like the beginning of something new. And for the first time in his very, very long life, Astarion felt excited at the prospects of what would come next. 

#astarion #dancingbirdiewrites #bg3 astarion #astarion ancunin #baldurs gate astarion #baldur’s gate astarion #astarion x f!reader #astarion bg3 #bg3 astarion fic #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x mc #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic

[hisui-dreamer]

he lives in you

Characters: Leona, Floyd, Jamil, Lilia

Synopsis: You shared a night of passion with your lover before you left for the other side of the mirror, but fate's cruel hands strike once again as you realise you have to raise his child alone in your original world. Thankfully, your child is incredibly drawn to magic, and they opened a portal...?

Tags: slight angst, fluffy end because im a sap, fem reader, reader gives birth to a child, reunions, bot proofread

Word count: 2.4k+

Notes: uh i was practicing Japanese and researching Japanese names before writing this, so all my name ideas ended up in japanese? if it makes you uncomfortable, you can imagine that reader is japanese hehe

right in time for mother's day, so here's to a celebration of the motherly figures in our lives, blood related or not, for being there for us<3

Part 2✧Part 3✧Part 4✧Masterlist

A few months passed as you settled back into your routine at home. Eventually, with the noticeable changes in your body, it dawned on you that you were with child—his child, your lover from the other side of the mirror whom you could no longer reach.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks turn into months. You had adapted to the trials and tribulations of parenthood. Juggling the responsibilities of work, childcare, and household chores was no easy feat, but you found solace in the small moments of your child's growth and development.

Your child was a true joy to behold, a mirror image of their father in many ways, and you often see the ghost of your past lover in them. Having inherited his magic, your child experimented with their powers, leaving you to support them with what limited knowledge of magic that remained from your NRC days.

On one such experiment, your environment started to shift as a wave of magical energy engulfed you. When you opened your eyes again, he was there, right in front of you—

Hina (日来) with 日 meaning "sun, day" and 来 meaning "coming, future"

Leona reminded you of a shining sun that radiated warmth and light in your life, of how the it would surely shine again no matter how dark the night seemed, and so you named your daughter after that image

your daughter has the clearest emerald eyes and flowing dark brown locks that you often braided in a similar style to her father's

she's very energetic, always curious and asking questions, eager to learn more about the world around her

she's an obedient child, although she's eager to seek your affection and may whine a bit when things don't go her way

if there was one thing that was similar to the Leona you knew, it's that she's extremely clingy and constantly seeks physical affection, hugging your legs and asking for you to carry them any chance she has

and also the fact that she enjoyed her naps a bit too much

her lion ears are a bit of an issue in our world, but you often hide them with hoods, clever hair styling, or simply saying it's a costume

when you told her about the brilliant man her father is, she grew really excited about the possibility of meeting him, and started playing around with magic more to be like the intelligent mage he is

and then it happened, just an ordinary afternoon practicing magic had the two of you transported back to twisted wonderland, face to face to Leona

somehow, he had grown even more handsome in the years you hadn't seen him, but instead of his lazy smile, he looked confident and powerful, like the leader he was always meant to be

A sudden gust of magic swept through the air behind him as he raised his staff in response, only to immediately drop it in shock as your figure came into sight, and beside you, a small child that he had never seen before.

"Herbivore..." he whispered.

Without a second thought, Leona rushed towards you, his heart beating wildly in his chest. He felt a lump forming in his throat as he reached out to embrace you tightly.

"This better not be a dream," he murmured into the crook of your neck as he inhaled your scent. "It's really you."

after a tearful reunion and introduction, Leona quickly excuses himself from his duties with a quick meeting with Falena, and helps you and Hina settle into the palace

since you left, Leona's been working hard to do what he can do as per your promise with him

he's now in charge of foreign affairs and on better terms with his brother after much needed communication

he showers you in affection, he's even clingier than before that it almost starts a rivalry with your daughter

he puts in a lot of effort to spend time with Hina, learning her likes and dislikes and bonding over magic

uncle jack and ruggie are always fun to be around and play with her

though it wasn't his fault, leona feels guilty you had to bare the responsibility on your own for so long, and he puts in a lot of effort to make amends for any mistakes work to build a strong relationship with you two

he has a family now, and you're damn sure he'll protect it with his life

Leona looked down at Hina, feeling a sense of pride and wonder at the little girl standing before him. "Hey there," he said, his voice gentle. "Nice to meet ya, kiddo."

Hina stared at him, her eyes searching his face. "Are you my dad?" she asked, her voice small and uncertain.

Leona's heart ached at the question, knowing that he had missed so much of her life. "Yeah, I'm your dad," he said, reaching out to take her hand.

Hina looked at him for a moment before a smile spread across her face. "Can you show me magic?" she asked, her eyes lighting up with excitement.

Leona felt a sense of joy at her words, feeling a connection with her that he had never felt before. "Of course I can," he said, standing up and taking her hand. "What do you wanna see?"

Sakura (桜) meaning "cherry blossoms"

your daughter has sleek teal hair that reminds you of the sea, a single strand of dark hair, and mismatched eyes in the same manner as Floyd

Floyd had lovingly given you the nickname "Shrimpy", and it only felt right for your daughter to be named Sakura, after the tiny sakura-shrimp

she's incredibly mischievous and there's not a moment of silence with her, she's spontaneous and playful and you've got your hands full

though she is very considerate of you and will listen to your words, she's uncontrollable when she's bored and in need of a spark of interest

she's also a squeezer, much like her father, and hugs you every time she sees you or anyone she likes, and you're thankful her strength hasn't developed too much yet

she enjoys biting you, albeit gently, and you find your arms littered with bite marks, but it's her unique way of showing affection

her eel form won't show unless she's been in the water for too long (thankfully), and she enjoys squeezing you in her eel form even more

ever so curious, she's asked about her father many times, and you've told her how carefree and easygoing her father is, and that he'd love her the moment she saw her

which leads you to her magic actually teleporting you to him, her spontaneous idea having manifested itself, and you found in a dimly lit room similar to the Mostro Lounge

Floyd looked matured, his hair sleeked back and his features sharpened, though his wry smile that you loved had stayed the same

Floyd's eyes widened with shock and disbelief, and his steps quickened as he rushes towards you, his long arms outstretched in a gesture of longing. As he got closer, he noticed the beautiful and curious-looking child standing close to you.

"Shrimpy?" he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "No way... It's really you!"

Floyd pulled you close, holding you tightly as if he never wanted to let go. "I missed ya so much, I wish I hadn't let ya go," he said, his voice choked with emotion as tears threatened to spill. "You're not allowed to leave again, okay?"

Floyd is so ecstatic he can't stand still, once he's calmed down a bit, be immediately carries Sakura and drags you to Jade and Azul

Azul and Jade are pleasantly surprised at your return, and it's a warm welcome back

the two of them are glad Floyd won't be moping any time soon

the trio have now expanded into a franchise and divulged into many businesses, though Floyd largely acts as Azul's right-hand man

Now that you're back, he refuses to be apart from you, always holding onto you tightly and afraid you might disappear just like how suddenly you appeared

he does get mood swings where he's upset or angry, not at you though, just at how unfair things were and how he couldn't be there for you

he's a good eel who does everything to make sure you and Sakura are happy and comfortable, often cooking meals for you two

he's so curious about Sakura and enjoys playing with her and lifting her high up in the air

don't worry, he's extremely careful, this precious gem is why you got back to him!

Jade is the best uncle and Sakura wants to marry him??? (honestly same)

poor Azul is getting pranked by the daughter- father duo, though Sakura does comfort him afterwards with squeezes and kissss

Floyd looked down at Sakura, and he saw her staring back at him with wide, curious eyes in the opposite colours of his eyes. Though she resembled him physically, there was an air about her that was so distinctly his Shrimpy.

"Heya," Floyd said, trying to sound friendly. "I'm your dad."

Sakura giggled and reached out to him, her tiny hands grasping at his hands. Floyd froze, not sure what to do, letting her yand his hand forward. But then, she opened her mouth and bit down on finger.

"Hey!" Floyd cried, pulling back in surprise.

Sakura just laughed, her eyes sparkling with mischief. Floyd couldn't help but laugh too, despite the pain in his finger.

"Yer a feisty one, aren't ya, Sakura-shrimpy?" he teased, grinning down at her as he ruffled her hair. "You know," he whispered, "you can't just go around biting people like that. But I like your style."

Isami (功己) 功 meaning "achievement, credit, honour, merits" and 己 meaning "self, serpent, snake."

your son has smooth ebony locks and sharp grey eyes that make him look slightly intimidating

Jamil had shown you how much he valued his achievements over his social status, so you chose a name the could embody him

he's a quiet child who's always attentive and careful

he's rather shy in front of other people, but when it's you he'll soak up all of your affection and stare at you with longing eyes seeking praise

he's a cute helper at home too! he always volunteers to help you with chores and cook in the kitchen, though you're careful he's not close to anything sharp or dangerous

he does have an inherent fear of bugs, something he's inherited from Jamil, but thankfully you've taught him to be less destructive than his father

do expect screams and for him to be crying as a little fly chases him around though

he's incredibly smart and talented at magic, easily grasping the concepts of magic you can only teach him theoretically

when you told him about his father, you've told him about the diligent man that his father is, and how would let his guard down around those he treasured

he had listened quietly without much of a change in his expression, but you could tell there was a bubbling excitement building up in his eyes

and no long after that, he managed to teleport the two of you to a warm, airy room of marble walls

Jamil's features had sharpened, he seemed more openly confident and comfortable with himself

Jamil's heart skipped a beat as he saw you. It had been five years since he bid your farewell at the mirror chamber and lost you forever. And yet here you were standing here in front of him with a child in tow, a child who resembled him so much.

"It can't be..." he murmurs.

Without hesitation, Jamil dropped all the papers and rushed towards you, his heart pounding furiously. His eyes locked with yours, and in that moment, time seemed to stand still. He could see the love and longing still shining in your eyes, and he knew deep down that he had never stopped loving you.

Jamil couldn't stop the tears that began streaming down his face. "I've missed you so much," he said, his voice raspy. "Letting you go is the worst decision I've ever made." He reached out and pulling you into a tight embrace, his arms shaking with emotions.

he's a bit overwhelmed but still so thankful you're back in his life

Kalim barges in at this time and exclaims in surprise at your return and ??? OMG JAMIL YOU HAVE A SON?!!

Jamil has half a mind to dissuade him from holding a banquet immediately to welcome you back, and instead take things slow to not overwhelm you or Isami

asks Kalim for some privacy and the second he's away, he melts into your embrace

he hasn't felt so at ease in so long

if he wakes up in the morning and you're not right there beside him, he's panicking and searching all over the place for some confirmation you're still here

he's very curious about Isami and asks him all sorts of questions to piece together his development and personality

they definitely have a rivalry over who's braver over bugs but it just ends up with the two hugging you for safety

he's a bit awkward with how careful he is with his emotions, so it takes Isami some time to fully trust him

but trust me, Jamil will go above and beyond for his family and there's no way Isami will have to endure what Jamil did in his childhood

Jamil's eyes widened in surprise and wonder. He couldn't believe that they had created a life together. He knelt down to the Isami' eye level and looked into his eyes. "Hello there," he said, his voice gentle and warm. "What's your name?"

Isami starred back at him, his eyes wide with distrust and caution before he buried his face in your legs. Jamil chuckled softly. "It's okay," he comforted. "You don't have to be shy around me. I'm your dad."

Isami looked up at him again, this time with a mix of curiosity and wonder. "Daddy?" they said, testing the word out.

Jamil smiled warmly as nodded, his heart swelling with love and joy. "Yes, daddy," he parroted. "And I promise I'm never going to leave you or your mommy again."

Yuri (百合) meaning "lily"

Lilia's name always reminded you for lily flowers, and what better name for your daughter to embody him?

your daughter has straight raven hair with some of the hair flipping upwards resembling two horns, angular fae ears, and bright crimson eyes

she's always up for pranks and mischief, it's rare to see her without a smile

she loves exploring places, if you keep your eyes off her for one second, she's letting her curiosity take her to whatever she wants

if you're serious and stern though, she will listen to you, she wouldn't dare make her mother upset!

she's friendly with everyone and isn't shy to say hi to neighbors or absolute strangers

she's not overly affectionate, but she definitely enjoys hugs and kisses from you

she has an odd habit of taking stray animals back home in an attempt to adopt them, so you have little adventures with her trying to find an owner

do not let her in the kitchen

she has surely inherited her father's cooking abilities, somehow, she can render even a piece of toast beyond human consumption

magic comes as second nature to her, and she's always standing on ceilings

gosh her eyes absolutely sparkled when you told her about the teasing and mischievous fae that is her father

and soon, the portal opened and you found yourself in a gothic castle lit up by green candles

He's a lot taller, his hair longer and reaching his waist, and more enchanting than ever

Lilia stood in shock as your family figure come into sight. In all his years of living, he had never been so utterly stunned. After all these years, you had finally returned to him.

"Beastie..." Lilia gasped, his voice catching in his throat.

With a surge of energy, Lilia broke free from the trance-like state and hurried towards you, his hair streaming behind him like a dark flag as he enveloped you tightly in his embrace. "After all these years, you've truly come back to me?"

Carefully, Lilia held you at arm's length, studying your matured features, etching them into his memory like a cherished work of art. His eyes traced the lines and contours of your face, memorizing every detail that time had etched upon you.

"My, how you've grown," Lilia murmured, a mix of pride and wistfulness coloring his words. "The years have shaped you into a remarkable individual."

it's family reunion time!!!

he immediately drags you to the throne room where malleus, silver and sebek are

malleus is now king with two incredibly reliable bodyguards, and Lilia's his most trusted advisor

malleus is so glad his dear human friend is back, silver is satisfied that his father will have someone to be with, and sebek is screaming about Yuri, though she enjoys his loudness

for a while, Lilia is extremely affectionate, trying to make up for all the years that had gone by

when you're sleeping together at night, he hugs you tightly and it's difficult to leave his embrace

he definitely tries to cook for you two, going on and on about how the two of you need to stay healthy and need lots of nutrients

you always volunteer your portion for Yuri, and she'll gladly eat whatever her father has cooked for her

silver is an older brother often on babysitting duty, and Yuri loves watching him spar with sebek and also wants to learn

Sebek is quite fond of Yuri, and he sees his half-fae self in her

Lilia is always trying to fun with Yuri, bouncing her high up in the air and teaching her to hang upside down and swing around

plans so many family vacations, he can't wait to be exploring places with his two darlings

"Is she... ours?" Lilia asked. At your nod, he reached out to caress Yuri's cheek, his touch gentle as if he were touching fragile porcelain.

"Well, I'll be damned," Lilia chuckled, his voice cracking with emotion. "I never thought I'd be a father again. But I'm glad to meet you, little one. What's your name?"

Yuri giggled and and beamed at his touch. "My name's Yuri," she said, her voice sweet as honey.

"Yuri," Lilia repeated, his heart swelling with emotion. "What a beautiful name for my beautiful girl," he reached up to fondle her hair. "You know, Yuri," Lilia said, his voice growing serious. "I may not have been there for you when you were born, but I promise I'll always be here for you from now on. No matter what happens, I'm your father, and I'll always love you darling."

Part 2✧Part 3✧Part 4✧Masterlist

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#twstnexus #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland leona #leona kingscholar x reader #leona kingsholar #twisted wonderland floyd #floyd leech x reader #floyd leech #twisted wonderland jamil #jamil viper #jamil viper x reader #twisted wonderland lilia #lilia vanrouge #lilia vanrouge x reader

[storiumemporium]

Astarion As a Father

Fem!Tav/Reader

I FINALLY GOT A NEW KEYBOARD WITH FULLY FUNCTIONING KEYS LETS GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

I elected to write about something that's been giving me brainworms for ages, because I'd been talking about it with someone on here awhile ago and it just infested me. Astarion finding out you're pregnant and how he handles fatherhood. (Or, in this case, doesn't at first.) This isn't my best work but I blame it on the fact that I didn't intend for it to be THIS FUCKING LONG okay 😭

But without further ado, daddy Astarion:

Finding out:

When it comes to children, I think Astarion hasn't put much thought into it beyond 'me!? ABSOLUTELY NOT—'

He has no illusions about his state of mind and his faculties, you see. Astarion knows that he's fucked up, he knows that he's a problem, and he's only entirely too confident that any child unfortunately put under his care would likely end up just as damaged as he is, were they to miraculously make it to adulthood. He's just not equipped for it.

And, frankly, Astarion isn't even aware he can have children... That's just, not something he ever thought to question. He's undead, is he not? That should take care of the...fertility question.

Shouldn't it?

Truth be told, Cazador never told him of the possibilities because it was never meant to be a possibility. Astarion was too malnourished, his victims too short lived for anything to ever have come of it. He was supposed to die a sacrifice, not live to carry his own bloodline (hah) onward.

Were you to ever ask him about it, even jokingly over dinner one eve, he'd be very firm in the fact that it's a terrible idea and he'd be entirely unequipped. He would even go so far as to say he's the worst choice out of all of your past companions.

"Me? No. Absolutely not. I'm sure whatever little devil you managed to cook up would be the most charming child Baldur's Gate has ever seen... But even that magical explosive that fancied himself a God would be better suited to fatherhood, darling. I am built for luxury and adventure, nothing else." All bookended by typical Astarion preening.

So when the day comes and you inform him of the little life growing in your womb?

Nope. Not happening, not even a chance of happening.

The denial is strong with this one.

And when I say denial, I mean that Astarion well and truly blots out what you've said from his mind, as if it simply didn't happen at all. You never had the conversation, you never dropped the revelation, there is no child, he is not becoming a father.

It's not a lack of want— though he doesn't realize that yet— it's true, blinding terror. Before it was just a joke, just something for him to brush off with commentary about how terribly he'd do as a parent, better the uncle than anything else. But now it's a reality and to accept what you've said is to accept that he might well and truly destroy a child. But not just any, yours.

The traumas Astarion possesses heap onto his shoulders and slough off plentiful enough to make new oceans of it. Now, not only is he just beginning to regain his own autonomy, he's supposedly being given responsibility over a brand new life?

(It would only make sense for Astarion in retrospect, that the life you willingly sacrificed to nourish and nurture him would in turn allow him to grow a new life within you. The fool had just been too blind to consider it: The way, fresh off your blood, he could pull back from the delicate column of your throat and you would find his cheeks and ears and chest flushed with the loveliest shade of pink, eyes wide and soft and alive. The way his entire body would warm, going from corpse frigid to something just beneath normal. The way his once-still heart would slowly beat again.

He'd even asked you once- curled together on a familiar silken bed, foreheads touching and your hands clasped together between your chests- if you knew what it felt like to be so, so hungry that all you could even think about was about badly you wanted to eat? How food sounded so good that the desire became crossed and instead felt even more painful and nauseating? How it consumed your ability to make rational decisions, denied you the capacity to control your emotions?

He'd told you then, voice tender and timid and weak, that he'd felt like that every single day for two whole centuries, until the night you'd willingly laid down on that cot and put your life in his hands.

It was so simple really, of course you granted him the strength to create life. It was you.)

And of course it comes to a head before there is any chance at recovery. Your body begins to show the changes, you begin to swell, and Astarion only grows more avoidant and flighty. Because now he can't simply wipe the idea from his mind and continue on as if the child doesn't exist, the proof is there every single time he looks at you. He makes it very clear to you that he will not be returning to your side without a confrontation, a very potentially ugly one at that.

And ugly it is, explosive. Astarion hasn't truly had the time to recover from his life under Cazador, and all of those protective traits he grew remain sharp as ever, returning to the surface as if they'd never truly gone away to begin with. He sneers and hisses, tries his best to dig in and hurt you enough to stop poking his tender wounds. Enough to push you away so he can lick his wounds back open. He'll go so far as to accuse you of infidelity, though he regrets the words the moment they leave his lips, it's easier for him to imagine that you simply grew tired of him, that you were weary and longed for the daylight. That you wanted someone who could hold you beneath the sun, unlike him.

How you respond to this is entirely up to you, but just shy of throwing something truly despicable back into his face, such as Cazador, Astarion will apologize... eventually. If you remain stalwart and patient, if you have it in you to recognize that he doesn't mean his words, that he's barbing you with intent, Astarion will break down in that very same argument, his angry and accusatory rant will dissolve into an admission of deep insecurity and deeper terror.

But if you respond with anger? Justifiable, and Astarion knows that even in the moment as it's happening, but emotions rule him far more than he'd ever care to admit, and he will dig in and relish the reaction he's managed to draw from you. He will bristle and bite back until suspicion and bitterness fully claims his heart, and he aborts the conversation to hide in the shadows.

Astarion will wait until nightfall, until his freedom calls for him. The one thing that always manages to clear his head, even when you prove to be the cause of his muddying. It's a reminder, every time he steps into the cool and dark of Baldur's Gate, that Cazador is dead and he is a free man. That he can go where he chooses and when he chooses to, and not only that no one can stop him, but that you wouldn't even want to stop him.

And that truth is always what brings Astarion home.

Under the distant lonely stars and that cold moon, he has to remember that time and again you have let him. You have accepted him, you have not fought him on anything shy of a horrible mistake he wanted to make in a moment of weakness and hysteria. You have accepted all his deepest and ugliest wounds and kissed them like they were freckles to pour affection on. You fought Cazador for him, you defended him from your own friends. You even- at times- tested your own morals for him.

You wouldn't betray him, and Astarion knows he can't betray you.

Astarion would return to you late, curling into bed at your side, his eyes would not meet you, and his apology would come in the form of a simple confession. "I am... afraid. I am afraid."

Astarion wouldn't blame you if you don't forgive him immediately for his transgressions, he was cruel and you were vulnerable. But even then you'll find that your love doesn't abandon you again. He accepts- however frightened- that what you've said is true and is coming, and he must accept it. Mind you, it won't be perfect and it won't be romantic. Astarion doesn't know the intricacies of handling a pregnant woman, he's hardly tactful beyond his well honed and flirtatious lines. He genuinely loves you, but he's going to come pre-equipped as father material.

You need something? He'll get it with minimal complaint (but never none, you'd sooner get him to dye his hair black than cease complaining for the sake of it), he won't begrudge you your mood swings though he might be inclined to poke fun at you ever so often. And he will panic when you burst into tears for seemingly no reason, and no- time doesn't make him adjust, he will panic just as much the thousandth time as the first.

However, if it's any consolation. The moment your child enters the world, Astarion is a changed man.

When You Go Into Labor:

Astarion did the honors of informing all of your friends about your pregnancy, once he came to terms with it. And believe me when I say it is extravagant. The stationery and grandiose script that Astarion wields when informing everyone that you were expecting better fits a wedding invitation than it does... well. Very elegantly explaining that Astarion had accidentally knocked you up.

You can tell from the splotchy stains addressed to you from Wyll and Karlach that one of them had been crying when penning the message, Astarion has coin on Wyll, and you on Karlach. Lae'zel never responds to begin with and you know for a fact the Githyanki's response will likely come in the form of her simply showing up one of these days, unprompted. Jaheira personally and rather frequently visits as well, she becomes a sort of bastion as nerves take you over, confident and calm as she is. Halsin's "letter" arrives late, rather because alongside his letter is several little carved animals for the child's room, and mentions of a quilt he intends to bring along when next he visits. Shadowheart's letter, while congratulatory, contains an air of interrogation strung all about it, all aimed with pinpoint precision at the man responsible for your pregnancy and dripping with sarcasm.

Gale's letter is seven pages long, comes with a violet hued wax stamp, and multiple different inks in the most lavish hand he can manage. You daresay he's competing with Astarion. However, surprisingly, Gale's seems to be the most... helpful of them all? It wasn't your intent, you simply wanted your dear friend to join you in celebration, and yet Gale goes on to inform you that upon reading the letter he'd become a madman in pursuit of knowledge on pregnancy and giving birth. He admits that this wasn't a particularly fruitful endeavor, as he's rather confident that you're not a gnoll, troll, cambion, succubus, or any other variety of strange creature with strange metrics of procreation. Still, Gale directs the latter portion of his letter to Astarion quite pointedly, informing him of bookshops around Baldur's Gate where he might have more success.

Astarion scoffs, but you don't miss the way his fingers twitch and flex.

After the hilarity of this is resolved and you just begin to believe that peace might return to your soft little home in the city, the first of your companions begin to arrive.

This continues on for the next week or so, without you ever knowing that this had been planned- and without knowing that Astarion had been the one to plan it. It's a furthering of his apology, of his guilt over the way he'd treated you. Again, Astarion has no illusions of the kind of man he is, and the fact he's not nurturing in the sort of ways that you need- but he's not completely stupid and he knows you're scared. So... bring the cavalry, darling.

Eventually your entire home has become a crash pad for all of your dearest friends, your family, and you only grow suspicious of Astarion's hand in this chaos because he's surprisingly amicable to having his peace so thoroughly disturbed by 'everyone and their mother'. Truly, he manages to bite his tongue some of the time about them trampling his fine rugs and scratching the plates. He even seems... wistful about it. As nostalgic as you openly are at seeing all of these beloved people under one roof again.

Nights are filled with raucous laughter, clattering utensils, a table so thoroughly overcrowded that people are playfully shouldering each other out of the way for a chance to get at their own food. And Astarion stays faithful at your side, his hand perpetually clasped gently around yours, thumb rubbing over your knuckles. Days are never spent alone, no matter what it is you need to do, someone (if not everyone) is following you along. And though Astarion feels his heart ache that he can't join you, he'll be glad to know you're safe.

Besides, your companions are likely all taking turns tormenting, testing, and relentlessly teasing him about what is to come. He has his own hands full. He's starting to regret being such a generous lover.

And then your water breaks in the dead of night.

Remember how I said Astarion was far from perfect? This would be one of those moments that it really shines.

Not that he's particularly terrible, no. He's not actively cruel toward you, and certainly not dismissive, it's somewhat the opposite. Halsin and Jaheira end up the ones helping you, the only two with some iota of understanding on what was happening and what to do with and for you. The others, less experienced in "mundane" medical situations will take up the second most important role.

Prevent Astarion from catastrophizing any more than he already has been.

Karlach has been the sole force capable of keeping Astarion away from the wine, typically bear hugging him away from your cellar while Wyll tries his best to talk your lover down from a total nervous breakdown. Of which he nearly has, several times. It's not even the sight of you, specifically. He's okay with being at your side and holding your hand, in trying his best to provide comforting words that aren't laced with sarcasm for once. But the sounds you make, that's what breaks him. Astarion isn't good at hearing you scream from the pain, he isn't good at the choked sobs or your heavy breaths. The way you sound like you're struggling against death. It makes him want to crawl out of his own skin, fight assailants that aren't there.

And for a few hours there, in the midst of your labors and your exhausted, pained little cries, Astarion isn't sure how he can love the child causing you this much suffering. It's not as if Astarion was an altruistic man on his best days, as if he were particularly reasonable when it came to you. You've both come to a mutual understanding that were something to happen to you, no morals would be involved in the things Astarion would do to rectify it.

And now, here you are, suffering. Astarion isn't supposed to do a thing about it? He's supposed to be- what, overjoyed by it? It infuriates him, he's truly prepared to have a grudge match with an infant.

Until, as the sun is starting to creep up on a brand new day, it's no longer your screams that meet the air, but another's entirely. Tiny but powerful, high pitched little squeals of fury and distress. And your laughter, disbelieving, soft, adoring already.

Astarion has a daughter.

I go with the HC that Astarion had eyes like honey once, and that his daughter takes after that, along with the delicate points of his ears mirrored in her own. She's small, so small, but healthy and already feisty, wiggling as best as her tiny body can whilst still too heavy for her to lift and move.

You're the first to hold her of course, and Astarion will be at his knees beside the two of you. The expression he wears is something you've seen maybe two or three other times in the entire time you've known him- moments when you know he expected everything to fall apart, moments where he couldn't believe that the world was so good.

It's then that you can breathe for the first time, and know that both of your darlings will be just fine.

Once he does hold her, he's not inclined to let her go. Even once you ask to have her back, he'll simply move you into his lap, so that he can hold you both. It's better that way anyhow, having both of his girls in his arms. And Astarion will repeat again and again how stunned he is, he just can't believe it. Cannot fathom any of it. I think he's the type to say that he's speechless and then spend the next five minutes doing nothing but talking. It's nervous rambling, but still, speechless is not the term I would use to describe him here.

Astarion With Your Baby:

Once your little darling is actually in your lives, you get to see how hilariously unorthodox Astarion is with children. Especially his own. Astarion doesn't baby-talk like you or the rest of your companions, he speaks in the same exact tones as he would a grown woman. In fact, for the first few days you're adjusting to a child in your life, you sometimes mistake Astarion as speaking with an unexpected guest, only to round the corner and find him lightheartedly chastising his own daughter for her poor nappy conduct as he wrinkles his nose and changes her diaper.

He's disgusted by that, by the way. Absolutely hates it, complains loudly about having to do it. But if you so much as try to stand to help he'll force you back down onto your chair or the couch, something something not useless something something already up, darling. It's as if Astarion is simply allergic to admitting that while it makes him nauseous, he wants to care for his daughter. He wants you to rest.

And yes, Astarion is the type of father that thinks all other children are hideous little fecal beasts and his daughter is the only gorgeous little angel in the entire world. Perfect, can do no wrong. He tells her as such too, in the same deadpan voice he always uses, wiggling and stretching her legs.

"You know, darling. You should count your blessings, you're the only child I've ever seen that doesn't look like some sort of hideous, deformed bean. I can't be surprised though, with as gorgeous as your parents are." And though he rolls his eyes, he's unable to contain the grin that shows his teeth when she coos and squeaks at the sound of his voice.

And yes. Astarion dresses up with his child.

The older she gets the more he does it, little matching outfits and ribbons. Nothing that she would choke on, were she to get her mitts on it. (You had to be the one to tell him no, at first. He did throw a little fit about it, just a small one).

But it's not all lighthearted, good or bad.

There are times where Astarion won't touch your daughter, won't be alone with her in the same room. He fears it, he'll eventually tell you. His... affliction came with it's dangers, always. But he's always trusted that you could defend yourself, and you're big enough that he can't just kill you between one blink and the next. The same can't be said of your darling girl. She's so small and so fragile that, were he to lose even the slightest grip of himself around her, it could cost her her life. No doubt it would traumatize her for life, regardless.

You watch it, too. The way it pinches his brows and makes him wipe his palms against his pants as if he were sweating. Nervous habits creeping up his throat and causing him to pace about like a caged animal. It's during these times that you have to bring your daughter to him. Gently place her in his arms and remind him that he's loved her from the moment he saw her. And where once he held trepidation and queasiness at the prospect of fatherhood, you can see him care so much about this little bundle that he looks sick from it. A vulnerability he can't mask.

And of course, there are times he nearly weeps for other reasons.

Like when she takes her first steps, and immediately tries to run for him.

And Astarion knows he should let her tumble, that it's good to let her fall and get back up again, but the moment her unsteady feet cause her to careen she's safe in his arms. Little kisses peppered against her giggly face. And he'll tuck away against her to try and get his bearings back, but she'll pat his cheeks and tug his ears- and you'll have to distract her with a toy while he hiccups and sniffles down his need to cry. He wasn't ready for her to grow so fast, gone is the tiny bundle that could fit perfectly in one arm, now she's walking. How long before she's dating? Gods, should he be preparing for betrothal requests!?

"I want to be mortal." He whispers to you, one night. She's tucked between your bodies, sound asleep and wiggling from time to time. This is one of the rare moments you and your love can speak to each other uninterrupted, in the tranquility of the dark hugging around you.

It's strange that he brings this up now, you'd spoken about it several times since the Elder Brain had been taken down... But in the past few years since your daughter had been born, all of that had fallen to the wayside. "What brings this to mind, Starling?"

Your hand comes to cup his throat, as you watch and feel him work as if he were swallowing a stone. "I don't want to outlive this."

It's hard to blink the tears from your eyes, understanding the implications.

Were he actually two hundred years old, Astarion wouldn't survive well past the existence of his sweet little family.

He'd been more melancholy the past few weeks, after realizing that your daughter was beginning to function on her own. She was walking, grabbing things, talking in rudimentary sentences. She was even beginning to call him pa.

He'd cried, at that.

"I'll forget," his voice draws you out from that brief reverie. The distress is palpable, but runs low like the tide before a storm. "I'll forget all of this. I don't want to know what I'll become, then."

And when you run your hands up into his hair, to scratch lovingly along his scalp, he doesn't hide the shiver or the way his face presses against your palm, cold and smooth on your skin.

"We'll find a way, Astarion. I haven't given up yet... We just- she's too young."

It's both a strain and a relief, to know that. To be reminded that your daughter is still so small, that he won't be losing her- or you- any time soon. There's still time.

Astarion With Your Teen:

Arguably this is the best time between your daughter and him. It's simultaneously a surprise and yet- not at all? He's more like her confidante and best friend than strictly a father. He isn't one for harsh curfews and strict ways of dress- rather, he's the one she comes to when she's made some sort of mistake. Or when she's angry about something.

In general, Astarion withholds judgement of her, for better or worse. The unintended consequence is that you might become more of her enemy than Astarion, because he's less inclined to punish for questionable behaviors.

It's not that he's afraid of angering her or dealing with push back- rather that Astarion's frame of reference for what constitutes a mistake is ah... rather broken. Even in the beginnings of your relationship with Astarion, the mistakes that would anger him constituted dropping an entire building on his head or... risking being turned into a Mindflayer to help some old lady find her cat.

Not feeling up cute boys in alleyways.

As a result you'll likely need to have a few conversations with him about not being so lenient on her, because she needs to have structure in how to behave. Stealing things is in fact, not okay! And Astarion will listen, but he's always going to be a bit more of a friend than anything else.

A total gossip with her, too. You'll catch them huddled around the dinner table at night, both with a glass of wine (this was an argument that Astarion ended up winning, she's allowed one glass a week, but that's all!) in hand shittalking a storm together. Astarion has become the Baldur's Gate equivalent of a PTA mom, he shows up as stylishly as he can and beefs with the parents of whichever children have upset his daughter the most. And then when they get home they just toss it back and forth together.

But I want to stress, just because he doesn't punish her doesn't mean he isn't protective of her. Astarion is more protective than you are.

Once she begins dating you'll find yourself home alone semi-frequently, because Astarion will play the supportive, loving father part when she leaves- and immediately follow her out into the dark. He's had centuries to know what dangers lurk around every corner, and foggy memories of simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time before his nightmare began. He won't allow that to happen with his girl.

And it's funny, because Astarion will talk mad shit to himself while he does it. Logically he knows that she's with some teenage boy or girl, but it doesn't stop the petty, emotional side of him from rolling his eyes and sneering at the cheap one-liners and the dumb tactics that this would-be charmer utilizes. Really, taking her into dark alleys to get her to tuck into you? Going to a totally secret spot that Astarion has known about for at least a hundred and sixty years? Get real, kid.

And you have to try valiantly not to laugh when he comes home, huffing and puffing about it. Because you will hear every single petty thought he had the entire time, and you will know that he looks like a petulant child. It's very cute.

All in all, I think Astarion is a reckless, chaotic, petty father. And one that loves his child so, so much. To the point of ruin, to the point where suddenly staying in one place doesn't seem so bad, just so she can have friends. Helping people isn't the worst, just so she can know there are heroes in the world. Suddenly he's learning to bandage scrapes and kiss bruises, and having tears and snot on his clothes mean nothing compared to the grief of the one shedding them. He loves her in ways he didn't anticipate he ever could. Enough to know all of her ticks and secrets, to know when she's lying through her teeth and when she's being devastatingly obvious.

Learning to cook even when he can't eat, listening to her spin a story with a straight face and then- as she's stepping out the door- telling her to be careful with that boy and listening to her groan loudly as the door slams shut, a mischievous smile on his face.

Holding you and dancing you around, cradling you close with all the tenderness he has in the whole of his body and soul. Kissing you, calling you the mother of his child, thanking you for giving him something he didn't even know he'd wanted. A family.

Small and odd, but his.

#astarion ancunin #astarion #astarion x tav #astarion ancunin x tav #astarion x reader #astarion ancunin x reader #bg3 #baldur's gate 3

[dulcewrites]

Fool Me Once (pt 2)

Pairing: Aemond targaryen x reader (wc: 3.6k)

Summary: Despite learning about Aemond cheating on you, life has never been sweeter. Who knew being so bad could be so good.

Warnings: manipulation, mentions/allusions to pregnancy issues, mentions of self harm

A/N: first, I just have to say thank you for the response to part 1. I truly had no idea it would get the reception it would. Thank you to everyone who followed me as well. I hope I can continue to produce stuff y’all like. I’m hoping to write more hotd stuff, Aemond and non Aemond related. I plan on taking a small hiatus but will be back around thanksgiving weekend. I will be writing on/off during that time but just away for a trip/the holiday. If you have any hotd requests my inbox is always open. I would try to get them out either before my hiatus next week (11/16) or after it ends (11/26). I’m pretty open to writing any character, though I will warn you I’m way more fascinated by the greens so they just come easier to me. Anyway please reblog, like, and follow if you read anything you enjoy 🫶🏽🫶🏽. And some housekeeping: in this Aegon is not r*pist who enjoys watching children fight (the hotd are truly…. not right for the cartoonishly evil way they wrote Aegon). He’s just petty and neglected. Also the timing of this is different from the books bc Aemond meets Alys pre dance.

Fmo masterlist

Blog Masterlist

A bastard Strong. The irony is not lost on you. Your straight-laced husband fucking someone who is the complete opposite you. Older, no kids, no title, and no duty to uphold. At this point, it doesn’t hurt anymore. Instead, it makes your blood boil in the most delicious way. Aemond’s betrayal made you realize how you’ve been going through the motions; endlessly sleepwalking, hoping one day Aemond would come around. It woke you up to how much he’s taken advantage of you. He sees your kindness, and aversion to standing out as a weakness. Something he can manipulate and twist like one of his daggers.

The both of you must have forgetten where you came from. A rich, well respected house. The only daughter of smart, albeit conniving, family that knows how to get what they want. Your family didn’t have dragons or absurd ideas of exceptionalism to help you gain power. You’ve learned that inflated egos and prideful indulges can cloud Targaryen judgment. A trait you hope skips your children.

Shame on you for thinking Aemond would be different. Shame on him for the carefully curated facade.

All you do after Larys Strong comes to you the first time is think. You can’t remember the last time you’ve had this many options in front of you. Your mother’s words about patience run through your head. Keeping your wits is key. Play your hand too quickly, and you lose all leverage. You have Daella and the babe in your belly to think about. You stood pat in the beginning; Lord Strong simply relaying messages to you. You make sure Alys gets the letter Aemond wrote, and the ones after that. Lord Larys makes sure you get the details of each letter exchanged.

When the days grew lonely, and your body aches because of the babe in your stomach, you think about the letters. The declarations of love and recounts of lust filled meetups simmer in your head, but it’s the mentions of you that makes the anger sizzle and crackle. It makes the guilt you feel wash away.

You question if the rumor is true. That his Alys is a witch. Does her magic allow her to see the way Helaena can? Fuzzy premonitions and dreams that only make sense after they happen; a gift and a curse. A part of you wishes it to be true. You hope while your stomach stirs with untold truths, hers stirs with regret. Maybe the pain that runs through you leaves an unfamiliar taste in her mouth. That she can’t quite put her finger on it, but she feels you.

You wonder if when Aemond prays, he asks the Father to protect him… to protect her. The same way when you pray, you ask the Warrior to help you find the courage to destroy him.

It started with a bruise. A bruise that you don’t even remember how you got. Maybe one of those things you just wake up with. But it’s there, on the inside part of your left arm. It’s starting to fade but an otherwise noticeable bruise that stands out when you wear something with shorter sleeves.

The idea doesn’t come to you till you see the curiosity in Alicent’s eyes when you absentmindedly rub the bruise while asking if she’s seen Aemond. It’s only you two in the walkway; an unusually quiet day at the Red Keep. Her eyes go from it to the far away look in your eyes. It makes her tilt her head in thought.

“No dear, I haven’t,” her eyes go back to the scratch. “Are you doing alright? I know for some, the second babe can be even harder than the first.”

You look down at your arm, and something just clicks.

“I’m fine,” you start, then you make your voice tremble a bit. “I will be fine. I think I’m just tired.”

You give her a strained smile, and she returns one that tells you she doesn’t believe you. You can feel her big brown eyes burning into your back when you walk past her towards your chambers. There could be two thoughts in her head: you did this yourself or someone else did it to you. Either way, her son’s sweet pregnant lady wife is not doing well, and her son is nowhere to be found. Queen Alicent is one of the smartest, if not the smartest, person you know. She sees the change in her son; the change in the dynamic between Aemond and you.

It hits you. It would be too easy to physically harm Aemond. Though the idea of taking the blade that hangs from his hips and putting it to his throat has crossed your mind more times than you’re proud of. It would be too easy to get Larys to kill Alys. You don’t want to give Aemond the satisfaction of having his whore’s blood on your hands.

Where’s the fun in killing when your rage could be channeled into something more… methodical.

Under all that false bravado is the little boy who got picked on for not having a dragon. To break the man means bringing out that little boy. A truly broken man can’t love anyone. Isolation, and self hatred. What a gorgeous combination for your dear husband.

If this is going to work you need to up the ante.

So, you write. If Aemond and Alys can document their love, you can document your pain. You sent your lady in waiting out to get a blank book from one of the maesters. The color dyed cow skin feels smooth under your hands. There needs to be a slow build. Each day you grow closer and closer to shattering. Whoever reads it needs to know Aemond brought you to this place. He is the villain in the story of the poor, innocent wife that did nothing but carry his children and try to love him.

It will read like a diary, but to you it is a creation. A mixture of truth and imagination. A manifestation of pent up feelings. Purging and revenge all rolled up into one. You make sure to mention how terrified you are for your safety, and for you children’s safety. How an angry or disenchanted Aemond is nothing to toy with, especially if he has a bastard witch on his side. How maybe life would be better for Aemond if you just weren’t around.

But this fading bruise isn’t enough. Neither is just having a diary that will be discovered in due time. A deep cut, a dark bruise, half hazardously placed hand prints.. now that could work.

There’s something cathartic about the pain you feel when the dagger slices through your skin. The blood is so red and warm. It smears so smoothly on the page. Blood on your dress, cloth pressed to the wound, and wandering the halls is how Ser Criston finds you. You notice the worried, confused look in his eyes when you stutter out an ‘I don’t know’ when he asks what happened.

As the maester tends to your wound, you notice how Alicent and Criston stand in the corner of Alicent’s quarters. They occasionally glance at you while they whisper to each other. You recognize the familiar crinkle she gets in her forehead when she’s upset. All her children do it too.

“Sweetling, we both think it might be a good idea to give you your own knight of the kingsguard,” she sits next you. “Just to help you and… keep an eye on you during this vulnerable time.”

You blink. Not one mention of her son. But it’s clear to see how Ser Criston is with his queen. Submissive, and utterly devoted. Having someone like that is an asset. So, you smile weakly and nod. The more people who see you in this way, the better.

Ser Quinton Throne was quiet in the beginning. As if he was scared to be in your space. A far cry from the rambunctious knight his brother, Rickard, is. Moving past the initial shyness, he is attentive and even indulges Daella’s fascination with him. Despite you telling her not to, she would always run up to him, tugging on his white cloak to get his attention. She likes having someone around just as much as you.

The distance between Aemond and you had started to carry over into his relationship with Daella. Kids are more intuitive than adults give them credit for. Your throat felt tight when you daughter finally asks where father goes. You lie; it comes easy to you, easier than you thought it would. It makes you think if this is how easy it is for Aemond to lie to you. Or for everyone to not gloss over the clear problems in your life.

You would lying if you said it wasn’t nice having a man around, even if it was his job. It was Aemond’s job to do right by you, and he couldn’t do that. A man carrying out his orders with a warm smile was welcomed. The comfort of having someone who sweared his allegiances to you, and only you, and intended on keeping them.

You look from your embroidery loop to see Daella and Ser Quinton sword fighting with wooden swords. It’s an uncharacteristically sunny day. Perfect to get much needed fresh air, and apparently going to battle.

“She’s gotten quite good.”

Like a storm rolling in to ruin a sunny day, your husband’s tone is ever cold and distant. You hate the uncomfortable energy that radiates when he sits next to you.

“Yes, she has,” you stare at the Lysene lilac flower starting to come to life on your loop. “He’s good with her as well.”

You know he won’t like you saying that. He hates Quinton being around, and he especially hates how Daella taken a liking to him. Aemond scoffs and mumbles something under his breath you can’t make out.

“It’s just lovely having real protector around,” you continue to push your luck. “Someone so attentive and… strong.“

You look at with his a sickening sweet smile. He opens his mouth to say something, a complaint or rude comment since those seem to be the only reasons he talks to you, but he is interrupted by Daella yelling out for him.

“We’ll talk about this later,” he mutters to you, getting up.

“Oh you’ll actually be here long enough for that?”

The words slip out your mouth and it makes him turn to glare at you. It reminds you of the gossip you heard about him when you first arrived at court. How cold the king’s second son can be. It should’ve been a warning to you.

Quinton takes it as his cue to leave them be; you know he can sense how much Aemond doesn’t appreciate his presence. You watch as Daella clings to her father. As selfish as it sounds, you patiently wait for the day she too realizes he can’t be depended on.

“My mother used to make me embroider,” your knight’s voice breaks you out of looking on. “Something about being dangerous with a needle is just as great as being dangerous with a sword.”

You take a good look at him. If Aemond is the moon - ethereal, mysterious, and always changing, then Quinton is the sun. Bright, forward facing, and shines brighter with time. His choppy black hair, beard, and warm standing in contrast to your husband’s Targaryen features.

“Sounds like a smart woman,” you smile as he sits next to you.

His eyes linger on your embroidery work before traveling to you right arm. The blade wound was just starting to scab and scar over. His first day on duty was marked by seeing your husband give a long lecture on safety and ‘using your brain’ after Aemond saw your wound. The blade cut wasn’t under pure circumstances, but the look of resentment on your face was real. He saw that. He’s never asked what really happened to your arm.

“How are you my lady,” he whispers. You told him he can address you by your name, but he still insist on the formal names especially around others. “Is the babe giving you trouble.”

Ser Quinton, Helaena, and Alicent are the only people that seem to care about your well being, on top of the babe’s. Aemond concern went making sure the babe was fine to just not asking all together. It’s better that way, you think. You don’t think you’d be able to take fake concern about your little ‘mistake’.

“My bladder is being pushed on, I’m finding clumps of my hair on my pillow, and Maester Oliver told me this baby will weigh more than Daella did,” you reply lightly. “But other than that I’m doing fine.”

This pregnancy had knocked you on your ass. You’re sure the stress and thoughts that consume you don’t help. You know how it feels to come into a fracture family; it makes you feel awful for the babe in your stomach. Your parents tried hard, frankly too hard, to pretend things were good between them. Trying to prove their union was more than a duty for their houses. Till this day, you don’t know what’s worse: knowing they didn’t share that love or the years you watched them fake everything. They had ambitions, and to carry them out there needed to be an appearance of an united front. You took your father’s lead, knowing he always tried to have your best interest. The relationship you have with your mother often ebbing and flowing, especially since your marriage.

When you ravened your mother about your pregnancy troubles, she tells you that this is your responsibility to your husband. Harsh and utterly true. You don’t know if your father ever had indiscretions like Aemond, but you know she’d never plot the way you do. Her calculating nature showing up in different ways. Instead of going after him, she chose to focus on elevating you.

Her and Queen Alicent remind you of each other. Devoted to a fault. A victim who had no other choice but to fall in line.You pray for the both of them. Pray that they find peace with the sacrifices they’ve made. Pray that you never get that far. A shell of yourself. Duty, responsibility, cleaning up others’ messes - what a dull way to live.

“Once he’s out, I’m sure it will all be worth it,” says Ser Quinton, voice not wavering.

He’s trying to be kind, mentioning the working theory in the castle that you’re having a boy. You try to smile at the thought. It’s hard to believe that. Plan or not, you still have to know the truth about the father of your children. There is hole left in your heart about that. Him disrespecting you is one thing, but his words pertaining to your unborn child is another. A sudden spurt of anger rushes over you thinking about everything. It makes you stand abruptly.

“I’m feeling tired,” you watch as Daella pretend to stab her father with her sword. Her giggles ringing out when he reaches to pick her up. The dichotomy of Aemond Targaryen will always fascinate you as much as it terrifies you. How he manages to smile in her face, and lie to yours is quite a sight to watch. “I’ll send Margret out to get Daella.”

Waiting for the perfect moment is not going to work. There no time like the present.

The stiff upper lip of this family is something you noticed the moment you stepped into their presence. It’s seeped into the way they gatekeep a dying Viserys. Alicent is cold and collected in the most beautiful way. A sharp glittering icicle. A pretty rose littered with thorns to keep you admiring from a distance. Even Helaena, who you consider a friend, keeps certain things close to the chest. It’s better to keep the full truth away from her.

But there’s Aegon.

Pitiful, and lonely Prince Aegon. A drunk with a bad attitude. But he’s also the most painfully self-aware person you know. There will be times that you and him exchange looks, as you are in on the joke. That everything is a farce. One day someone will just come up and say it’s all been a bad dream. You think it’s the reason why he frustrates Aemond so much. The teasing on top of him never taking the Targaryen name seriously. Aegon spends his days trying to drink and fuck his way out of thinking about his life. Stuck in a royal cuckold. The first born son of a king with nothing to show for it.

He’s messy, nosy, and so openly brash. He’s your missing chess piece. The perfect pawn.

You leave the diary around places in the castle you know he will be. It’s not until you conveniently leave it in the play room where all Daella, Jaehaera, and Jaehaerys all frequent that you know he’s taken the bait. His lilac eyes seem to follow you whenever you two are in the same room. It takes days for him to confront you; book in hand and wry look on his face.

“Is it true? Everything you wrote?”

You stroke your belly while looking at him, a small smile on your face.

“Does it matter that if it is,” you tilt your head, and his eyes glitter with something you’re not used to seeing.

He mirrors your head tilt with a full blown smile on his face this time. It’s like a bright light after weeks of darkness. A person who also sees through the bullshit that enraptures once you call yourself a Targaryen.

“I greatly underestimated you my good sister,” he whispers. You know he’s thinking about his own words. ‘Pretty but horribly dull’.

“That’s fine,” you motion to the seat next to you. “You can make it up to me.”

Queen Alicent stands facing the fire. Aegon, Helaena, and Ser Quinton off to the side. All of them standing across from where you sit. Aegon gives you a knowing look while Quinton’s eyes are filled with pity and anger. Pity for his princess, anger towards his prince. Helaena looks like she wants to say something.

“I… do not know what to say,” her voice is strained with pain. You know this hurts for her. The image of the perfect son being destroyed. The pedestal she put him on crumbling before him.

You’ve gotten better at crying after Aegon told you tears will be necessary to sell it. It’s an automatic response now. The perfectly timed emotion that breaks like flood gates when Alicent holds out the diary. You say you’re embarrassed. That you never meant for anyone to read it, especially not anyone in the family. Aegon gets to be the concerned good brother. He rubbed your back, while his mother called for Helaena. She needed to know who else knew about this.

“I can say what everyone is thinking,” Aegon pipes up. “He’s a fucking cunt.”

“Aegon.”

His mother turns to glare at him, but it doesn’t deter him.

“Walking around with that self righteousness just to fuck a Strong,” he scoffs. “Calling his child a mistake?”

The words makes Alicent sigh, and squeeze her eyes shut. Helaena continues to play with her fingers with a quizzical look in her eye. If Aegon of all people can judge, the actions must be bad.

“This all my fault,” you decide to take it up a notch. Your breath catches. “I must’ve done something to deserve this.”

“Oh my sweet girl,” Alicent walks over and sits next to you, pulling you into her chest. “None of this is your fault.

“I just don’t know what I did to deserve this,” you continue. That part is true; what the seven hells did you do to deserve this marriage? “This, and the baby, and missing my family. I’m just so unhappy here.”

Alicent strokes your hair. You can feel her heart thumping in her chest. You can tell she’s upset and scared. Scared for what your unhappiness means. You’re a risk now.

“Maybe… my father can come and visit. He hasn’t been here since Daella was born.”

After you got married, your parents left court to tend to your house. They felt their work was done. That the marriage was as far as their political ambitions can go. They visit from time to time to see their granddaughter but normally you’re the one who has to make the trip.

“Of course,” you can see the wheels turning in her head. “I’m sure the Hand would love to pick his brain on some things. Your father has always been so kind and helpful”

Queen Alicent is as predictable as she is smart. Your dad thought your marriage would help him get a seat in the small council. When no offer came, his ego was bruised. If your marriage couldn’t, maybe a desperate Alicent can. The idea of sending a raven about the news makes you have to bite back a smile. An ally in an castle full of strangers.

“I’ll speak to Aemond about this,” she nods to herself. “You don’t need to be worrying about this in your condition.”

The disappointment is clear in smooth voice. Before you can reply with a thank you, Helaena finally piped up.

“A baby’s green eyes spurs brighter skies.”

She mutters it before looks at you curious. You look down at your swollen belly, feeling confused. Neither Aemond or you have green eyes. You try to push the sinking feeling out of your stomach. Even Aegon, who normally ignores Helaena’s cryptic language, has perked up a little.

You take a look at Ser Quinton… his eyes as green as spring grass.

Ok this is my first one doing a tag list, so I’m sorry for those I’ve missed. It only let me do 50??? Idk it’s it’s different on desktop or I’m doing something wrong. Hopefully I can find a more conducive way for this. I also only tagged people who specifically asked: @afro-hispwriter @crispmarshmallow @unabashedlyswimmingtimemachine @its-sam-allgood @lol-im-done @grey-water-colors @sassysaxsolo @justsumstufff @lilithskywalker @dc-marvel-girl96 @bekky06 @claudie-080102 @cloudroomblog @shelbythequeen @crazylokonugget @solacestyles @instantpeachpeace @katyadenauer @nsainmoonchild @deeeeexx @iwanttohitmyself @rosa-berberifolia @noisyinfluencerstrawberry @princessmiaelicia @bregarc @castellomargot @thesadvampire @chaosmagiq @icarusignite @happinessinthebeing @flavorofsalt @wishfulwithwine @slut-for-eddie-munson @rosaryos @mistalli @inana-mm @winxschester @papery-maniac @nolongereviliwantlove @fultimefangirl @missusnora @skinmittensgoblin @duckworthbean @b00kdiary @chiyausu @alexandra-001 @tachibubu @juneisreading @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @verycollectivecreator

#aemond x oc #hotd imagine #my writing #sorry for the delay.. the tagging kicked my butt 😭 #also if there’s typos I’m sorry 💀💀 #also sorry for once again leaving it ambiguous… couldn’t help myself #aemond targaryen x reader #black!reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #Aemond targaryen

[theresattrpgforthat]

Games with an atypical division of Player/GM responsibilities? For example, in Fellowship, the players have final say in lore/world building questions, not the GM. (Not counting GMless games, which have atypical GM duties by default)

Alternatively, if that's too niche: any games explicitly designed for rotating GMs and/or 'West Marches' style campaigns.

THEME: Unique Player Responsibilities / Rotating GMs

Hello there! I hope to do your ask justice, although I feel more at home talking about the first half of your question than the second. I’ll ask my followers to supply some more suggestions in the tags/reblogs, and throw at you what I have!

Fae’s Anatomy, by Hebanon Games.

Fae’s Anatomy is a comedic storytelling RPG wrapped around a challenging logic puzzle, recreating the high-stakes melodrama of medical procedurals like Grey’s Anatomy, House, and General Hospital. 

Anybody can be an expert in Fae’s Anatomy. The game is set in a world where all forms of magic, spirituality, and mysticism are science. Science? Just another form of wizardry. Quackary, superstition, and pseudo-science work, but so does chemotherapy, antibiotics, and sound medicine.

In many ways, I’d say Fae’s Anatomy feels like a typical ttrpg: you have one person giving hints and clues to the rest of the players, who will use certain skills and abilities to solve a problem. But the closest role to the GM role - the Patient - is simply different from the doctors in what limits them. The Patient is suffering from some kind of mysterious illness, and while they have a little bit of information available to their general illness, the app presented to them to help them run through the diagnosis keeps the solution obscured enough to keep them on their toes. The Patient also has to role-play their symptoms well enough to help point the doctors in the right direction. In some ways, it feels like Fae’s Anatomy is an elegant form of charades - and if you want to hear how this game plays, you can check out the special episodes that Lawful Great Adventures recorded using this game!

Apocalypse Keys, by Rae Nedjadi @temporalhiccup

The Doomsday Clock is ticking down and emotions run high as you and your team of DIVISION agents struggle to find the Keys before the villainous Harbingers unlock the Doors of Power and bring about the apocalypse.

As an Omen class monster, you are the only thing capable of holding back the apocalypse. Combat occult threats and investigate supernatural phenomena alongside your team of supernatural agents working for the shadowy DIVISION. But in a world that shuns monsters like you, only your deepest, most heartfelt bonds can grant you the power to stop those who seek to unlock Doom’s Door.

There are two ways in which Apocalypse Keys uniquely empowers the players in ways I consider slightly unorthodox. Firstly, there’s the fact that the lore of DIVISION, the shadowy government agency that holds your monsters leash, isn’t fully fleshed out at the beginning of play. It’s slowly uncovered with each mission and playbook advancement, with the players being presented with questions and workshopping the answers together.

Second is the mystery mechanic, which was popularized by Brindlewood Bay and The Between, and also made its way into games such as External Containment Bureau and Bump in the Dark. While the GM designs clues and thinks about what kinds of Harbingers might be responsible for this specific apocalypse, it’s up to the players to decide what the answer to the mystery actually is - and it’s the player’s roll that determines how accurate they are.

Brinkwood, Blood of Tyrants, by Far Horizons Co-Op.

Mask up. Spill blood. Drink the Rich.

The world is not as it should be. The rich feed, literally, upon the poor, as blood-sucking vampires who barely bother to conceal their horrific, parasitic nature. The downtrodden peoples of the world struggle under the burdens of rent, payable through the sweat of their labor or the blood of their veins. Evil has triumphed. Many have given in to despair. But all is not lost.

In Brinkwood, you take on the role of renegades, thieves, and rebels struggling for freedom and liberation in a castylpunk world controlled by vampires. Radicalized by tragedy, you have taken up arms and fled into the forests, where you were taken in by unlikely allies - the fae, forgotten creatures of myth - who offered a different path and the means to fight back against your oppressors. Masks, forged of old wood and older magic, are the final tool left to fight a war long ago lost. If you wear them, they will take their price, etching themselves upon your very soul. But they will also let you spill the blood of the rich and powerful vampires that now rule the land, and from that blood strengthen yourself and your movement.

There’s a lot of things about Brinkwood that I absolutely love, from the way the mask playbooks are meant to be swapped among the characters/players with every mission, to the slow but steady revolution that you build by fostering connections with various factions in the Bloody Isles. But for the purpose of this request, we need to talk about Your Exquisite Fae.

Your Exquisite Fae is the process by which the group collaboratively creates a faerie patron, otherworldly and uniquely powerful. It’s inspired by the game Exquisite Corpse, which has each player draw a piece of a drawing without knowing what the others have already created. In Your Exquisite Fae, the players receive answers to prompts written by other players but aren’t given hints as to what the context was - and then they elaborate on what those answers mean. For example, one player might state that the Fae has eyes that reflect the night sky, gleaming like a thousand distant starts. The second player might decide that those eyes see the deepest fears of the enemy, giving the group an advantage at finding weaknesses and secrets when spying on vampires.

Ars Magica, by Atlas Games.

Ars Magica is the award-winning roleplaying game by Jonathan Tweet and Mark Rein•Hagen about wizards and their allies in Mythic Europe. This flexible, deeply built world can support games that are historically accurate or fantasy-based, epic or small scale, political or personal.

Players work together to tell the story of their covenant — all of the magi, their companions, and grogs. This history can span decades. It might be heroic, tragic, or both in turn. The covenant could influence the entirety of Mythic Europe or the fates of a small corner of the world.

Spells will be cast. Duels won and lost. Houses may rise and fall. But magic is forever.

The last time I talked about this game, one of my followers pointed out that this was an incredibly complex game that was designed to accommodate rotating GMs. The game styles itself as a troupe-style game, which means you’re not just responsible for your mages, but also your companions and servants. If you want a game with complex relationships and big-picture conflicts, this might be the game for you.

Slugblaster, by Mikey Hamm.

In the small town of Hillview, teenage hoverboarders sneak into other dimensions to explore, film tricks, go viral, and get away from the problems at home. It’s dangerous. It’s stupid. It’s got parent groups in a panic. And it’s the coolest thing ever.

This is Slugblaster. A table-top rpg about teenagehood, giant bugs, circuit-bent rayguns, and trying to be cool.

It may look like a small thing, but during crew creation, each character playbook has specific roles in determining the crew’s resources and relationships. The Grit picks a faction that trusts the crew. The Guts chooses a faction that the crew has somehow annoyed. Each player draws a portal between the known multiverses, but the Smarts draws two. The Chill has final say over where you hang out when you’re not Slugblasting, and The Heart has final say over your crew name.

I’ve drawn direct inspiration from this setup in my own game that I’m playtesting, by giving each playbook final say over some element in the world, and I think it really boosts player agency and gives them control over the kind of story the group wants to tell.

Planedawn Orphans, by Sharkbomb Studios.

Planedawn Orphans is a campaign kit that helps you prepare a campaign for the fantasy role-playing game of your choice. It provides a flexible and versatile framework to start a campaign. The campaign kit will help you get started and provide structure and support, but some assembly is required.

Set in the Planar City, a strange melting pot that connects the vast diversity of the multiverse. You all play Planar Orphans stranded in this city, your original home worlds destroyed, corrupted or lost. A mysterious Patron has brought you together, provided you with a base of operations and tasked you to complete a Planar Key. This key will let you create a new plane for you and your fellow refugees. Your quest will bring you to exotic places filled with strange creatures and bizarre phenomena.

This isn’t a standalone rpg, but rather a campaign kit for whatever system you like - or even multiple systems! I’m recommending this toolkit because I’m actually planning to use it to run a series of rotating-gm games later this year, with a friend of mine. You’re building your own custom dimension by jumping into a series of vastly different worlds, and your home base is built collectively. There’s a lot of player agency and GM agency here, as players have plenty of control over their home dimensions (since they can’t ever go back) and the GMs can take turns designing custom worlds for the party to jump into. I definitely recommend checking it out.

Also Check Out

Asymmetrical Games Rec Post

#rotating gms #unique player responsibilities #tabletop games #indie ttrpgs #dnd #game recommendations #asks #indie ttrpg

[strawberrymilk-sunshine]

Yan overblotted malleus who kills his darling by accident, maybe loses his mind even more. Go crazy 💙

>:)

Warning(s): blood, death, hearing voices

The ink clouding his vision slowly dripped off of his face, allowing him to see clearly once more.

"What... what happened to me...?" He asked.

But nobody was there to answer his question.

Malleus stood up on his unsteady legs. Nobody's around, where are they?

And then he found everyone. Silver, Sebek, Lilia, and the two Shrouds were huddled around... something. He couldn't tell what it was.

When Silver heard someone approaching, he immediately stood up and drew his sword, but calmed himself when he realized Malleus looked like he was back to normal.

But behind Silver, hidden by everyone else, Malleus saw a very bloody body.

"What happened?" Malleus asked.

"You overblotted." Silver simply responded.

"There's no pulse." He heard the younger Shroud say. "And... I'm not detecting any brain activity either."

"S-shit... Ortho, c-could you try shocking them awake?"

"I don't think it would be of any use at this point..."

"Ah, how tragic..." Lilia said. "Malleus will be quite displeased."

"Why... will I be displeased...?" Malleus asked.

"Malleus! You're ok!" Lilia said, turning around. "Such wonderful news-!"

"Lilia. Why did you say I would be displeased." He demanded.

"...Malleus. I'm sure you're aware you overblotted, yes...?" Lilia asked. He floated upwards and placed his hands on Malleus' shoulders. "(Y/N)... they tried to help us calm you down as they've done with all the other overblot cases but..."

It felt like all of the noise was sucked out of the world. He heard nothing, except for what Lilia said to him next.

"Malleus, you killed them."

It's easy to keep a human alive.

Just use a bit of magic, and just like that they'll be ok.

Lilia had clearly lied! You were just fine!

A simple spell to heal your injuries, and one to help with... preservation... and you were just fine!

You were alive, clearly!

You still looked alive, and your body wasn't at all decaying, so you're clearly ok!

You have to be.

Malleus Draconia was always known as a strange man, people just never commented on it because he's big and scary and one of the most powerful mages in the world, but now... people were starting to talk about him.

They were starting to talk about how Malleus Draconia was a man who always dragged a human's corpse around with him. He called the body "(Y/N)". He would talk to them like they were alive, and he always expected a response, before saying something along the lines of "Oh, you don't want to speak right now? That's ok, (Y/N), maybe later."

Everyone was now more unsettled by Malleus than ever before.

"(Y/N), what would you like for dinner?" Malleus asked, sitting you down in a chair.

But you didn't respond to him.

"...my dear, I know you're probably angry at me for hurting you like that, and I'm extremely sorry about that, but (Y/N)... we can't go on like this." Malleus said, grabbing your cold hands. "I can't go one more day without hearing your voice."

And after that, he could have sworn you said something to him. He heard a voice in the back of his mind, one that resembled yours...

"I knew it. You're still alive." Malleus smiled. "So, (Y/N), what would you like for dinner?" It felt so nice to hear your voice again. "Oh, that sounds wonderful, my dear. Shall we discuss wedding preparations tomorrow? ... Yes, my thoughts exactly!"

Lilia, Silver, and Sebek were peaking into the room to make sure Malleus was doing ok.

They did not expect to see what they did.

He's talking to you like you're still alive, like you're responding to him...

"Father, what do we do?" Silver asked.

"...I don't know."

"Is there nothing we can do to prevent Lord Malleus from marrying a corpse?!" Sebek yelled.

"Well, his grandmother will surely prevent that, but we should find a way to help him with... this." Lilia sighed. "For now, I suppose we just... let this happen. And try our best to help."

Malleus looked so happy, dancing with you.

But you didn't look happy, dancing with him.

Your expressionless, dead face could not display happiness anymore.

But Malleus... he saw you looking happy as ever. You looked as beautiful as the day he found you.

To Malleus...

You looked as alive as ever.

#malleus draconia #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #twst #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere #yandere twst #yandere twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere x reader #yandere malleus draconia #yandere malleus draconia x reader #yandere malleus x reader #yandere malleus

[kittenintheden]

No Thoughts, Just Vibes

Oh, you know, just a little Solstice/Midwinter treat for you. Enjoy!

Rating: E Pairing: Astarion/Tav (descriptionless) (BG3) Content warnings: PWP, PIV sex, oral sex, sex toys, tooth-rotting fluff

---

Their adventures by night in Faerún take them all over, from the Underdark to check up on Astarion’s siblings and their new spawn charges to Waterdeep in search of potential arcane solutions for certain undead individuals with sun sensitivity.

In fact, they find themselves entering Waterdeep just in time for Midwinter. The magicked streetlamps of the place glow golden and are festooned with all manner of wintery decorations, which feel oddly out of place in the seaside city but have a magic all their own nonetheless.

It’s just past dark when they approach a wizard’s tower, having spent the daylight hours getting to know the tavern and inn down the way while the sun still sparkled off the water. Now that it’s safe once again, Astarion and Tav ring the bell near the tower door and are greeted with a series of chiming meows in the style of a popular carol.

“He really doesn’t have to try so hard,” Astarion says, smirking despite himself. “And yet.”

“Let him be the dork of his dreams,” Tav chides playfully. “He deserves it. We all do.”

On cue, the large door of cypress wood before them swings open and their wizard friend holds out his hands in the foyer of his tower, arms wide.

“You made it!” Gale says, beaming. “Come, come inside. Please mind Tara, she’s been quite taken with the mistleberry and has made herself sick more than once despite my gentle reminders .” He yells the last words toward the spiraling staircase and from a nook nestled high in the wall, he receives a hiss in response.

“Relateable,” Astarion mutters as he comes inside, but he accepts an embrace from Gale nonetheless, giving him a stilted pat on the back.

Truly, the lot of them are glad their adventuring brought them to Gale’s doorstep. It’s nice to be off the road and surrounded by modern luxury again, and the wizard’s gone out of his way to ensure their modest celebration is full of delights. He’s even procured a top-vintage sanguine refreshment for Astarion.

“Did you imbue this with clove?” he asks, swirling it in his goblet and giving it another sniff.

“Not exactly,” Gale says, cheeks rosy from his own imbibed glass of wine. “Were you aware certain herbal and spiced components cross the blood barrier when inhaled or consumed? Give the resulting blood a bit of an essence for a certain frame of time. Garlic is the most common offender, but I thought I’d skip it, in this case. This donation came from a dear friend in the spice trade. One who doesn’t ask many questions and frequently dabbles in certain other trades.”

Astarion blinks against the verbal onslaught, then turns to Tav and says, “Hold on. Is that why I break out in hives after you’ve put too much garlic in your food?”

Tav’s also delightfully tipsy and she raises her glass to him. “I love you, dearest, but I’m not giving up garlic for you. Some prices are simply too steep.”

The night winds on and on like that until eventually Tav nods a sleepy head onto Astarion’s shoulder and he guides her off to bed in the spare room at the base of the tower. He returns to Gale, who’s ragaling Tara with his own rendition of “Marvelous Midwinter” to her great disdain.

“So, Gale,” Astarion says, interrupting to give Tara an appropriately respectful scritch on her head. “I have a bit of a favor to ask, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“Not at all, my friend,” Gale says, swaying. “How can I help?”

Astarion reaches into his pocket and procures a folded bit of something. He hands it to Gale, who unfolds it and examines it with some curiosity before cocking a brow at him.

“Any possibility of, erm. Recreating something to this effect?” Astarion asks. “One tied to a command word, perhaps?”

“Oh, certainly,” Gale says, going into tinkering mode as he examines the object. “I would need a few components, but luckily I have them in stock, thanks once again to my spice merchant friend. A little bit of articifer ingenuity to craft an arcane battery, some relatively complex enchantment, and a… wait.”

Gale gives Astarion another look and the vampire tilts his head and smirks.

“Right, I’m not asking,” Gale says, eyes back on his new puzzle. “Give me a day.”

“Lucky we’ll be here for three,” Astarion says with a light laugh.

The morning of Waterdeep’s official Midwinter celebration dawns bright and mild, the sea breeze rustling through the thick curtains they keep drawn in the guest room to ensure Astarion doesn’t wake up with burns or worse. They doze in the double bed in their underthings, Tav draped across Astarion’s chest and breathing softly as she wavers in and out of sleep. He’d actually fallen asleep last night, pressed up safe against her, and now he smiles into her hair, tracing his fingers up and down her arm.

Eventually she stretches along the length of her body and yawns against his skin, resting her chin on him and looking up into his face. She blinks lazily and runs a finger over the length of his nose with a delicate touch.

“Morning, dear,” she says, voice still rusty with sleep.

“Happy Midwinter, my love,” he murmurs in return. “I got you a little something.”

“Oh?” Tav purrs, sitting up a bit. “Is it fun?”

He arches a brow. “I certainly hope so.”

Astarion tangles his fingers in her sleep-mussed hair and draws her to his mouth, kissing her deeply as she relaxes into his body, letting her tongue stroke against his. He rolls them both to their sides and hooks his leg over hers, taking his time as he lights up her skin in all the ways he knows she loves. She laughs, tilting her head back to expose her throat to him, and he licks along the column of it, though he doesn’t bite. He wants her fully aware this morning.

With one hand, he deftly undoes the clasps of her brassiere and tosses it aside. Her smallclothes follow quickly after. She hums, pleased, lazing onto her back as he kisses down her breastbone, palming one of her breasts and rolling his thumb over her nipple until it peaks. His mouth works at the other, teasing and swirling until she’s arching up into him and rubbing her thighs together.

“Is this my gift?” she sighs. “I like it.”

Astarion chuckles against the space below her breasts as he continues working his way down. “In part, I suppose. But not quite.”

He runs his tongue underneath her breast and then leaves her a moment to fetch something from the side table. She whines at his absence, but he doesn’t leave her waiting long. He rolls back over, slipping a ring snugly down onto the second knuckle of his middle finger.

She giggles. “Are you proposing to yourself? Fitting, honestly.”

“You’re cute when you’re lust drunk,” he says before he puts the weight of his body on top of hers, kissing her deep.

He hauls her leg up by the thigh, wrapping it around his waist so he has better access as he runs his hands down the length of her, gripping her arse tight before moving around to the front and teasing his clever touch between her legs. She’s already going wet, her arousal making for a smooth draw over her skin and she settles into it, a wide smile on her face, knowing she’s in a master’s hands.

Astarion grins. She has no idea.

He places his hand flat against her slit, cupping her and resting the ring against her in just the right place.

“ Deliciae ,” he whispers.

The ring sends a brief, rapid vibration through her core, just beside her clit, and Tav cries out in surprise, bucking her hips and gripping his biceps, her breath going erratic. She’s fully awake now, staring up into his face, wide-eyed.

“What in the hells,” she gasps.

Astarion gives her a light kiss. “I’d hoped you’d like it,” he says. Then, again, “ Deliciae .”

“Oh,” she says, her thighs shaking on either side of him as another vibration pulses through her. “Oh, dearest . Again.”

He's happy to comply, kissing her between her gasps and mewls, repeating the command word in a sultry whisper while he works her with his fingers in the meantime. His own arousal aches where it’s pressed against her hip and he gently grinds it against her for relief, just enough to keep his own head as he watches her break to pieces beneath him.

Tav rolls her head back and opens her mouth in a silent scream as her legs shake, incapable of holding back their shudders as a shivering, powerful peak comes over her under the little toy. It’s familiar but sweeter; her hips rise off the mattress and then slam down as she tips over the other side. Astarion feels her clenching and pulsing, strong and slick, and the entire ordeal is instantly worth it to bear witness to the unraveling. There is no pleasure, no greater high, than knowing he’s the one who brings her to this state. The one who has the privilege. The one she chose.

She blinks back to herself, a moan low in her throat as she tries to clear the spots in her vision. When she meets his eyes again, he’s panting himself, still rolling his hips to get some relief against her side. Her gaze clears as she breaks the surface of her pleasure and she growls, grabbing his face and bringing him down to her mouth, nipping his lower lip between her teeth until he whines from it.

“You liked my gift?” he whispers, breath quickened.

“Oh, yes,” she sighs. “Now let me give you yours.”

Tav’s hand snakes down their bodies to find his fingers and she takes them, slipping the ring off. He’s so dazed with lust that he lets her without thinking about it too much and gladly moves as she rolls them both until he’s the one on his back. Her mouth is so hot on his cooled skin as she places open mouthed kisses everywhere he likes – the space behind his ear, the place where shoulder meets neck, every rib on the way down. She spreads a hand in the center of his chest, over where his heart resides, and presses him into place as she licks down the line between his abdominal muscles.

Astarion’s cock twitches, throbbing against the weight of her body as she continues her path, and she uses her free hand to give him a rewarding squeeze and stroke, running the pad of her thumb over the split underneath the head. She gives his foreskin a little swirl, helping make sure it’s properly drawn down, and he thrusts up into her hand with a pleased murmur.

It’s taken time and significant gentle coaxing to get him to a place where he simply lets go and allows her to lavish him with attention. A lesson he’s forever learning, rewriting centuries of conditioning with care, with passion, with love. He closes his eyes and focuses on her touch, allowing himself the pleasures she’s happy to share with him.

With a slight jolt, he twitches when he feels her warm tongue follow the path of her fingers, rolling circles around the head of him and applying long licks down his length. Her fingers move to his sack, gently rolling his balls in her palm, warming them. She places a knuckle against the spot beneath them, kneading deep but gentle, finding the place that drives him wild.

“You are so good to me,” he sighs as she moves her mouth over his head again. “That’s so good.”

He senses her smile just before she swallows him down, taking his length halfway into her mouth and working him a few times before she pulls off and says, “ Deliciae .”

Astarion’s vision whites out as the knuckle pressing into his perineum sends a hard vibrating pulse through him at the same time she takes his cock in her mouth again. He gives a sharp cry.

“Bleeding hells,” he manages. “I… I…”

She pulls off of him, tears forming at the corners of her eyes, and says it again.

Pleasure upon pleasure crashes over him, lighting up his entire body as he writhes under her touch. She goes slow enough to make it delightfully tortuous, though it would be incredibly easy to push him over the edge in short order. She moves the enchanted ring, experimenting in different places – the base of his cock, the rim of his arse, the crease of his thighs – and each spot brings new sensations.

He’s an absolute mess by the time she draws back and crawls up his body, his hands weakly grasping at her hips as she sits up on her knees, gingerly reaching between her legs to hold his cock in place as she slides down onto it, both of them near sobbing at the sensation.

“I love you,” he manages with what little breath he can hold. “Gods, I love you, I love you.”

“Love you,” she breathes back as she rolls her hips hard against him over and again. “Love this. All of this.”

Tav rides him slowly, firmly, with intention. When they get to a point where they can’t help but pick up speed, grinding one another into oblivion, Tav lifts his shaking hand in hers and takes the ring from her finger so she can slip it back onto his, the movement reverent.

Astarion looks her in the face as he reaches down between them with his fingers spread over the base of his cock where they meet, resting the ring right alongside her oversensitive clit. 

“ Deliciae ,” they say together.

They shatter in the same moment, eyes rolling back, crying out to the morning light. The waves of delight roll like the tide outdoors, rising up the shore and receding back to the great unknown.

Tav collapses onto Astarion’s chest and his arms are so very heavy as he lifts them to wrap around her back. They breathe, and pulse, and live. Eventually, he begins tracing soothing patterns along her skin.

He clears his throat. “I take it that’s the inaugural positive review for Gale’s potential toy venture?” he says.

“Oh gods, that’s where…” Tav covers her face with her hands. “Oh gods, I have to go out there and see him.”

Astarion laughs and she laughs with him.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion x tav #astarion #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 astarion #bg3 tav #bg3 fic #smut mines #onlyfangs

[thatonebrazilian]

Peace

Summary: How could someone like you ever give her the peace of mind you knew she deserved?

Word count: Around 8700

Warnings: Self-loathing, a little bit of blood and violence, mentions of torture, Weapon Hex!Reader (meaning Reader has both Wanda's and Wolverine's powers).

A/N: First fic after the hiatus. It was cathartic to write this, it felt so different from my usual writing style full off dialog and action. Hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

You met her during a raid. More specifically, you met her as she and the Avengers raided the Hydra base where you have been kept.

At the time you didn't really pay attention to her, even if she was the most beautiful woman you've ever laid eyes upon. Your mind was occupied with the all-consuming fear that paralyzed you, for despite the power that resided in you, you were no warrior. You were a nobody, someone who was taken simply because no one would miss you.

As luck would have it, though, you survived a mix of the most dangerous experiments Hydra has ever made. They called you Weapon Hex, but you were no weapon, you were merely a frightened girl with overwhelming powers.

You had never had much courage, and instead of changing that, your stay at Hydra only reinforced it.

But then, suddenly, your captors were lying motionless on the ground as you crouched down in a corner with your hands covering your head. One of the Avengers tried approaching you, almost as if you were a wild animal. Your reaction was merely instinctual, your magic flared up, throwing whoever got near you to the far side of the lab; your claws came out, and you accidentally stabbed yourself, yelping in pain, feeling your magic explode outwards in response to the well-known stimulus.

"Please, don't hurt me!" You begged, backing up as they tried approaching you again, dragging yourself through the floor as far away from them as you could.

"No one here's gonna hurt you, kid," said the beautiful redhead, raising her hands in a peaceful gesture.

"Nat, back away from her, she's dangerous," said a man with a bow and arrow.

"She's scared, Clint." The woman, Nat, replied.

You didn't know that woman, you didn't know those people, but looking in her eyes you felt safer than you ever did since you were taken.

"What are you doing here?" A blond man asked, taking a step closer.

You tried backing away once again, but your back met another wall. You were cornered.

The redhead reproached the blond man with a single look, making him take a step back, she looked at you then and smiled faintly.

"We're not gonna hurt you, kid, I promise. We just want to understand why you're here," the woman said, taking another step closer. You didn't try to back away this time, but you looked hesitantly at the men behind her.

She understood your hesitance, your fear, so she ordered them to clear the rest of the base, and they promptly obeyed.

"Now," she said, "can you tell me what happened?"

And that's how you found yourself telling her everything from the moment you got taken to where you were now; you told her about every single torture session, every single pinprick.

That was the first time you opened up to Natasha Romanoff.

~

You were not Avenger material; you knew that, they knew that, and yet, you stayed. Your powers were exceptional, the overwhelming magic, the super strength that could easily rival Captain America's, and the neverending healing that prevented your body from being damaged for more than a couple of seconds. If you didn't learn how to control it, you'd be exposing everyone around you to danger; that's why you stayed, were forced to stay.

They said they weren't keeping you a prisoner, that once you mastered control over your powers you'd be able to leave. In the beginning you didn't really believe it, but then, little by little, they earned your trust.

Steve started training you to control your super strength, and contrary to Hydra training, he never hurt you; quite the opposite really, he talked to you, made jokes and told you about all the times he kicked Hydra ass.

Thor tried helping you with your magic, but that didn't turn out great. Since there was no magic user on the team, hence no one to teach you practical magic, Natasha thought it best to help you master your self control and willpower in general.

Contrary to Steve's lessons, Natasha's were more strict. She didn't make jokes, she talked only when necessary, and glared at you whenever you were too out of it. You found it was a complete opposite of her normal behavior towards you.

For some reason, Natasha Romanoff, the most intimidating member of the Avengers, was soft on you. Maybe it was because you were the only other girl on the team, maybe she pitied you for your cowardice, or maybe she was a bit protective since you were the youngest. Whatever the reason, though, you were grateful for it.

~

She was troubled, you found. In the dead of the night, she'd trash on her bed, riddled by nightmares, only to wake up startled. You could feel her fears, her nightmares screamed at you from the opposite side of the hall; with your powers, you could feel her every move, hear her every labored breath, almost as if you were by her side.

That was how you found out that she didn't wake up everyday at 4am because she wanted to.

Steve, now one of your best friends, told you they'd run together at 4:45 every single morning, and you had mistakenly thought she did it out of discipline. Truth was, she only did it because she knew she wouldn't be able to go back to sleep.

That's how you found yourself in the kitchen at 4 am, with two mugs of tea ready. You didn't need as much sleep as the average person, what with your body healing itself every few seconds, so you thought, why not?

"What're you doing up at this hour, kid?" Natasha asked, walking into the kitchen.

You shrugged and offered her a mug "I don't really need much sleep, and I thought some tea would be nice".

You were no spy, no actor, but you honestly thought she would buy that little white lie. You realized how foolish that was when you saw her shoulders tense, an expression of anger taking over her face, one you saw many times before, but never directed at you. You could hear her thoughts, she thought you invaded her privacy, and betrayed her trust.

"You know about the nightmares, don't you?" She asked, taking a menacing step towards you.

Your time at the Avengers tower helped you control yourself better, but you were still the same scared, traumatized girl they took in a few months ago, and upon seeing that expression on her face, that threatening stance she took, your automatic response was to take a couple of steps back and use your arms to protect your face for the inevitable blows that would come.

But no blows came, and slowly but surely you lowered your arms, allowing yourself to see the mix of guilt and surprise written on her face.

She took a couple of hesitant steps forward, you didn't back away this time.

"I'm sorry," she said in a low voice, extending her hand slowly towards you, "I'm so sorry."

And then you were in her arms, head tucked in her neck as she embraced you delicately "I'm never gonna hurt you, kid, no matter what."

That was the first time you felt your heart beating erratically because of any emotion other than fear.

~

You were not emotionally illiterate, you knew what you were feeling most of the time, but the green, ugly feeling that arose in you every time you saw Natasha and Bruce together was somewhat new.

To be honest, you never really had anyone to be jealous of, you never fell in love, you barely had friends, and you and your family were estranged, that was the main reason Hydra took you, actually, because nobody would miss you.

So yeah, when the first person you deeply cared for in such a long time showed so much interest in somebody else, yes, you became jealous.

Weirdly enough, somehow, you managed to become friends with most of the team. You didn't know what they saw in you, you didn't know why they even spared a glance your way, and yet somehow you managed to earn a place in their hearts, which, if you were honest, only made you feel more conflicted as you watched Natasha flirt with Bruce.

They were your friends, for fucks sake, you wanted them to be happy, more than anything, but you couldn't shake the bad feeling growing in the pit of your stomach.

Each time she would laugh at his jokes, each time she would touch his arm, each time he would stare longingly at her, you would just wish them happiness in your head, but the war raging inside your heart told you that you wanted her to look at you that way. You, not him.

The fact that she was so soft with you didn't help matters. Each day at 4:00 a.m. you would have tea together, and each day she would tell you more and more about her past.

She told you about Yelena, Ohio, and the whole mission. She told you some things about the Red Room, although she became a little bit closed off whenever it came to that. It was clear as day how much her past weighed on her, the tenseness of her shoulder gave it away, along with the sleepless nights, the slight paranoia, and the trust issues.

You wished, more than anything, you were able to give her peace of mind somehow, but she was set on achieving it by trying to make up for all the red in her ledger.

Maybe someday you would get the courage to tell her that none of that was her fault, maybe someday you'd tell her that she was the best person you have ever crossed paths with, that she didn't need to make up for anything.

Maybe someday you would outgrow your fears and tell her how you felt.

But then, seeing the way she looks at Bruce and vice versa, maybe that day would never come.

~

It still amazed you the trust the team put in you, the problem was that you didn't deserve that trust.

On your first mission with them, the moment someone pointed a gun your way you froze. Steve dove in front of you just in time for the bullet to bounce against his shield. After that Clint promptly pulled you away from the action.

During your second mission, they deemed it better to leave you on the sidelines, where there would be fewer people trying to kill you. It didn't work out that well, though, for the moment someone came to you wielding a knife, you panicked and your powers flared out, throwing the enemy so hard their skull bashed open when they landed.

After that, Natasha started training you in physical combat along with your willpower and self-control training. Her focus was on you being able to duck and defend because she knew that if you learned to defend yourself, you would probably be less susceptible to freaking out mid-battle.

On the one hand, you did think it was going to help you during battles, but on the other, having her touch your body so frequently made you feel things. And Natasha didn't make things easy for you, she would come behind you and put her hands on your waist to show you the correct stance, and she would run her hands down your back or your sides each time she wanted to show you a new way to duck or dodge, and she would smile that dazzling smile of hers whenever you did something that made her proud.

"I think you're doing better," she said once, with a soft smile on her face "soon you'll be able to hold your own in the battlefield".

At that you retreated a little into yourself, wondering how such a powerful person as you could be so cowardly and selfish as to avoid fighting even when it meant you could save lives, while someone without any superhuman abilities such as Natasha could risk her own life to save others.

"I don't know, Nat" you said then, "I just don't think this will work. How will I even know what to do? I mean, I've never had the courage to follow up on my convictions, as long as danger was near, but now that I was made into this, danger's always around the corner… They say you attract what you are, and I am dangerous. I'm a danger to all of you."

At that, Natasha walked up to you. You didn't even seem to notice what she was doing, too wrapped up in your head, but then you felt her arms around you and your body instantly relaxed. What you did notice, though, was how she seemed to melt against you.

She was such a brave, strong, selfless person. All you wanted was to be able to make her see that too. You wanted her to feel relaxed most of the time, you wanted her to sleep soundly, and you wanted her mind to be at ease. But how could you, of all people, ever give her peace?

~

The upcoming missions weren't as bad as you thought they would be. Granted, you were never in the thick of it, you were never in the center field fighting with the others, but you did help from the sidelines, sneaking up on the enemy and making surprise attacks.

Your reaction to having any weapon pointed at you never got much better, though. You would freeze, tremble, and unwillingly blast magic at whoever tried to attack you. At least with Natasha's help, you learned to contain yourself, and there were never any more casualties when you entered the battlefield.

You wish you could say your reaction to seeing her and Bruce flirt got better, but it was stagnant, the green monster of jealousy never failing to show up whenever you'd see them together.

Steve seemed to catch up on that, and he took upon always offering you a way out whenever he realized you saw them flirting. Thus you began spending more time together, and whenever he tried to comfort you you felt a pain in your chest, for Steve reminded you too much of your late brother, the only person in your family that ever stood up for you.

And as you watched his face fall whenever he saw Tony and Pepper together, you realized you were not alone in your suffering.

At least you had each other.

~

You would never admit to anyone that you welcomed the distraction Ultron's bots gave you at that party. You couldn't handle the way Natasha and Bruce interacted with each other at that bar, and when the robots crashed in, you welcomed the distraction.

But then things started getting so out of control. First with the Maximoff twins, who you have heard of during your time in captivity. You had only heard their names by chance because no one in Hydra would trust you with vital information. You didn't know what their powers were, what they were capable of, or what they looked like. But then the girl used her magic to get into the other's head; she tried to do the same to you, she did, but by then you knew enough about magic to be able to block hers when it came in contact with yours.

The girl was shocked when she realized you had the same sort of magic as her, and then it dawned on her who you were.

"You're the Weapon Hex," she said to herself. You didn't say anything back, didn't have time, because by then her brother had already swooped her away.

You didn't chase after them, though, you turned as fast as you could and ran to where you'd seen Natasha, stagnant as a rock, glassy eyes haunted, staring right through you.

Your fingers touched her temple, and you could feel your magic warring against Wanda's inside her head.

Almost as if you were transported, you could see yourself in a sterile room with a younger Natasha by your side, strapped to a stretcher. She looked at you with no recognition in her eyes, and you didn't know what to do.

When you heard people getting closer to the room you saw a glint of panic in her eyes, so you did the only thing you knew how to do. You hid. And then, when the door opened, you took them by surprise. They weren't fast enough to escape the blinding red light that came at them.

With her captors out, you neared the stretcher, and as gently as you could, you unsheathed your claws and cut the straps holding her down.

This version of Natasha was so much younger than the one you were used to, her eyes were wide as you freed her, her muscles tense as she sat up.

You hesitantly reached for her hand, but she pulled away at the last second. You knelt on the floor, then, and looked into her eyes, trying to show her that in no way, shape or form you intended to assert any type of dominance over her.

"Nat, it's me, Y/N," you said, debating if you should try to reach for her hand again or not. "This is a nightmare, we were at a Hydra base when a witch attacked us. You're not in the Red Room, you're an Avenger, a freaking superhero. You saved a lot of people. You saved me."

She blinked a couple of times, and you saw a flicker of recognition in her eyes.

"Detka?" She asked, looking at your whole face almost as if she was analyzing you. You didn't know what that word meant, but you nodded anyway. You needed her to feel calmer so you could get her out of here.

Her shoulders relaxed a little and she took a deep breath, you reached for her hand again, then, and the moment your fingers touched, blinding red light emanated from them, taking you both to the real world.

You didn't expect the sudden dizziness, though, nor to feel your legs tangling with hers as you both tried to support yourselves on each other. And with a little shriek, you stumbled, landing right above her on the floor.

Natasha sat halfway up then, elbows supporting her, her eyes looking at you with what you could only describe as gratitude.

"Thank you." She practically whispered against your face, nose almost touching yours, making you realize how close you two were.

You got up fast with the excuse of helping the others. You avoided her for the rest of the day, too embarrassed to even look her in the eye.

~

Clint's farm was a charming place, and you felt a warmth in your chest when you met his family.

His wife, Laura, thought you were a sweet oddball, she took an instant liking to you. Little Lila was ecstatic to see another girl in the group. Upon seeing you for the first time, she asked Natasha if you were a superhero too, and as soon as she heard "She's the strongest superhero you'll ever meet", Lila immediately clang to you like a koala.

On the one hand, you felt a sense of belonging like you never had before, but on the other… it was not safe for any child to be around you, like it or not you were still dangerous, what if you lost control near the kids? What if your claws accidentally stabbed a pregnant Laura?

Overwhelmed by those thoughts, you took the first opportunity to slip outside when no one noticed. You didn't need to stay there at the farm, you could find a place to hide on your own.

As you were stabilizing your magic to fly, Natasha came from the house. You couldn't decipher the look on her face.

"Where are you going?" She asked.

Upon hearing her voice you felt your energy deflate, almost as if she was grounding you to her.

"It's not safe if I stay here," you said.

Natasha crossed her arms and took a couple of steps closer. "So what, you're just going to leave? Find a place to hide on your own?"

You could feel your eyes starting to burn, your shoulders sagging, "What if I hurt them, Nat? Look at me! I am too dangerous to be around children and pregnant women!"

She stopped for a second, almost as if she couldn't believe the words that left your mouth. She shook her head, then, and took a couple more steps towards you, her face showing nothing but understanding.

She hesitatingly extended her hand, almost as if she was wary of touching you.

That, right there, was another reason for you to go. After the whole Wanda fiasco, Natasha seemed hesitant to touch you. Although you two became way closer than before, it wasn't hard to notice her hesitance whenever it came to skin-to-skin contact. And maybe it was petty of you, but sometimes you found yourself wanting to draw away just to give her the physical space she seemed so keen on having.

But right there at that moment, she wanted to touch you, and you couldn't say no. Natasha slowly took your hands in hers, caressing your knuckles with her thumbs.

"You are the gentlest soul that I've ever met, you won't harm Laura or the kids." She said, looking deep into your eyes. "Do you really think Clint would have let you come anywhere near the farm if he thought you were a danger to his family?"

"But there's always the risk… As long as I'm here, there's always the risk of them getting hurt." You said, shaking your head, trying to pull your hands away from her grasp.

Natasha strengthened her hold on you, and with a slight tremble to her body, she pulled you in, embracing you.

"Please, stay, just a bit more… For me." She whispered against your ear, making your resolve crumble.

You melted against her, gripping her shirt in your fists as if she was the only thing keeping you up, tucking your face in her neck as if you wanted to hide from the world.

"For you. I'll stay for you."

~

"You know… it's been going on for a while." Steve said as the two of you sat on the porch, looking at the trail where Natasha and Bruce were walking together.

"What?" you asked, almost as if coming out of a trance.

"The two of them," Steve said, "it's been going on since before she met you."

You turn to look at him with furrowed brows "Is it? I've never realized…"

"They've been spending more time together in the last couple of months, but they don't seem as close as before." He said "Even if Natasha's been more open to physical touch. Well… she's been more open in general. I think it has something to do with you."

"Has she?" You asked "Because from where I stand, it feels like she's withdrawing from me…" you sighed and shook your head "I mean, we've been spending more time together too, but it's almost like she's afraid of touching me."

"I think she is afraid." Steve said, looking at her in the distance.

"What?" you asked, a crushing feeling settling in your chest "Do you really think she's afraid of me?"

"No, not of you. I think she's afraid you're going to leave." Steve replied.

"Why would she think that?"

"You never wanted this life, Y/N, and we always knew that." He kicked a bit of dirt, refusing to meet your gaze "We made you stay for you to learn how to control your powers… and now you have. After we deal with Ultron, nothing is stopping you from leaving us."

You hung your head, rubbing your temple with one hand as Steve gently patted the other.

"I've got nowhere to go, Steve. My family deserted me after finding out I was bi, the very few friends that I had have probably assumed I'm dead by now, I was living in a shitty apartment and working a minimum wage job. There's nothing for me to go back to." You said, then, raising your head to look at the sky "You're right. I never wanted this, and I've never asked for these powers, but that's not going to change the fact that I have them now and that I could do some good with them. But more than that, you guys became my family. I'd never leave you behind."

A huge smile lit up Steve's face, and he swung an arm over your shoulder, hugging you sideways.

"Well, don't let Tony hear that, otherwise he'll want to throw you a party," he joked "But seriously, Y/N, you're our family too. I'm glad you're staying."

You opened your mouth to reply, but the sound of Laura's voice made you stop.

"There you are!" She said with a mischievous smile on her face, drying her hands on her apron. "Steve, come with me, I need some super strength. Y/N, go get Natasha and Bruce for dinner."

"You do know I have super strength, too, right?" You asked with a lift of your brows.

"Yes, sweetie, but you're also as clumsy as they come. Now, shoo, go get those two idiots." Laura replied, making you laugh out loud.

"Yes ma'am!" You said, getting up and saluting her.

"So bossy," Steve mouthed behind her back. You had to hold back your laughter this time, lest she realize what he did.

You shook your head in amusement and turned around, looking at where Nat and Bruce stood. It could be considered a pretty romantic setting, both of them leaning against the fence, looking at the setting sun.

You really didn't want to go there, you didn't want to see how cozy they felt with each other, you didn't want to witness their mutual affections, but you also didn't want to stress a pregnant woman, so off you went.

They didn't see you approaching, you supposed they were too wrapped up on each other.

"You're the most wonderful woman I've ever met, I care about you too much to ever let you go." You heard Bruce say, your heart feeling heavy at those words.

"You know I find you just as wonderful," Natasha answered, her hand caressing his. "Yeah… Even though I'm a monster," he said barely above a whisper, eyes trained on their hands.

"Hey, there's only one monster in our team, and it's not you." She said, and you froze.

Was she talking about you? You looked at your hands then, seeing the slits from where your claws came out. You remembered the redness of your eyes whenever you were wielding magic, the way the very few serious injuries you'd had during your time with the Avengers healed almost instantly.

Of course she was talking about you, who else would she be talking about?

"That's no excuse, though," Bruce said, shaking his head.

"It's not. I already told you the main reason." Natasha said with a somewhat sad smile. "Bruce, I love-"

You cleared your throat, not wanting to hear her saying those words to him. "Sorry to interrupt," you said, then, not looking either of them in the eyes "but Laura asked me to fetch you for dinner."

Natasha raised a single brow, a smirk on her face. "Fetch us?" She teased.

You still didn't meet her eyes, though. You weren't mad at her for calling you a monster, you really weren't, because how could you be mad at her for telling the truth?

Yet, you knew it'd hurt to look at her right at that moment, so you just nodded, turned around and left.

You didn't make it far, though. Natasha caught up to you, her hand around your wrist. You hesitantly turned to face her, eyes downcast.

"Y/N, what happened?" She asked in a worried tone.

Your eyes landed where your skin was touching hers. It felt so right, but at the same time, so wrong. Natasha was a true hero, a person raised as a weapon, a woman taught naught but evil; lying, deceiving and killing were ingrained in her, and yet she fought against that nature every single day. She was a paragon of goodness.

Her integrity made you feel small and insufficient. It felt so wrong to taint that selflessness of hers with your monstrosity. It felt like you were wasting her honor.

"Detka," she said, hesitating before cupping your face with her other hand, making you look at her.

She had a worried look on her face. You bit your lip. You owed her the truth; of what you had just listened in to, of how you felt.

You didn't want to say it, no, but Natasha deserved nothing but honesty, even if said honesty did irreparable damage to your friendship with her.

You may be a monster on the outside, but there was enough humanity left in you to know that you shouldn't shy away from doing what was right just because it hurt.

"I heard you and Bruce talking…" you said, then, closing your eyes "I knew you were just being nice when you told me I wouldn't hurt Laura or the kids, when you told me I was gentle, but… If you really think I'm a monster, why ask me to stay? Why put yourself and the others in danger?"

A beat of silence. Two. Three.

You opened your eyes and looked at her, and for some reason, Natasha seemed utterly confused.

"What are you talking about?" She asked then.

"You told Bruce there was only one monster in our team." You explained, making her eyes widen a little before a look of pure determination settled on her face.

She gripped your shoulders, then, making you look deep into her eyes.

"Y/N, you are not a monster." She said, her fingers digging into your skin "I wasn't talking about you. I was talking about myself. I told you once and I'll tell you however many times you'll need to understand: You are the best person I have ever crossed paths with. You're just so good. Your heart is pure, you somehow managed to maintain a certain innocence in your soul despite everything that's happened to you. You are not a monster, you could never be one."

You furrowed your brows and gritted your teeth. Your heart did somersaults upon hearing her words, butterflies swarmed your stomach, and yet you felt terribly angry. How dare she talk about herself like that?

Natasha Romanoff was the exact opposite of a monster. She was an angel, a goddess in disguise.

"Why would you say that about yourself?" You asked through gritted teeth "I'd understand if it was about me, because even if you say I'm good, my skeleton is still made of metal, I still have claws, my eyes still turn red and yet I keep on being a fucking coward. But Natasha, despite not having any power whatsoever you still risk your life every single day for people you don't even know. You keep trying to clean up your ledger when you were forced to paint it red in the first place." You said, taking her hands in yours "You're not just any hero, you're my hero. You're the one who made me realize that I could do this, that I could be someone who helps people. You're the one who made me want to stay and become a full-fledged Avenger."

She didn't say anything for a moment, and you thought you went too far, that she'd push you away due to her own realization of your feelings, but then her eyes seemed to water and a smile lit up her face.

Coming to think about it, Steve was right, you never saw her smile as much as she did when she was you, and it made you wonder… maybe you'd never be able to give her the peace she deserves, but you were like a fire and you could keep her brittle heart warm.

"You're staying," she said more to herself than to you, as if there ever was the possibility of you leaving her.

"As long as you'll have me," you told her, then, taking advantage of the small amount of courage that ran through your veins at that moment to take a step towards her, getting rid of most of the distance that separated you and snaking your arms around her.

You were ready to open your mouth and tell her how much she meant to you, to tell her how she made your heart beat faster, how you never felt like someone cared for you like she does, but then your traitor brain recalled the one moment that'd make you pull back.

She was ready to confess her love for Bruce when you interrupted them.

And suddenly the butterflies in your stomach seemed to die, your heart started to ache and your eyes to burn. You couldn't tell her how you felt, you couldn't put that weight on her shoulders. She cared about you too much, she'd be devastated if she knew she was causing you any sort of pain. You couldn't burden her with that.

"Nat, I'm really sorry for interrupting you and Bruce earlier," you told her "and I want you to know that-"

You couldn't finish the sentence with her mouth pressed against yours. Your brain short-circuited, you didn't know what to do, except your body did. You didn't even realize you were opening your mouth to let her in, you didn't realize that your hands were pulling her hips against yours, you were too intoxicated by her to differentiate between up and down.

When her lips parted from yours, a muttered "wow" left your mouth without permission, making Natasha chuckle and bringing you back to the real world, the world where she was about to confess her love for Bruce a couple of minutes ago.

"Nat… what are you doing?" You asked in a small voice as her face got closer to yours again, too afraid to drive her away.

You felt your stomach drop when you saw her body stiffen, the smile on her face slowly dying.

"I thought… I'm sorry, I don't know what I was thinking, I'm gonna-" She was already turning away, but you caught her wrist with both hands, too afraid to let her go even if you knew you'd never make her stay if she didn't want to.

"I liked it!" You found yourself saying in a sudden bout of courage "A lot. I've been wanting to do that for a while, but you were about to tell Bruce you love him and I don't know what-"

"What?!" She asked, almost as if you had offended her.

"When I came to get the two of you, you were about to confess your love to him… were you not?"

Natasha's eyes searched your face for a while. You didn't know what she was looking for, but whatever it was, she must've found it, because her smile came back as she took a step closer and cupped your cheeks.

"You're right, I was about to confess my love." She said and you closed your eyes for a second, but when Natasha's thumbs started caressing your cheeks, you opened them to see her looking at you with a very familiar glint in her eyes.

"I was about to confess to him how much I love you."

You opened your mouth, but no words came, you were too stunned, not having expected to hear those words.

"What?" You asked then, dumbfounded, barely above a whisper.

"Bruce and I had this unspoken thing before you came along, and the more I spent time with you the more I drew away from him." She said, and to be honest, you never realized that, because your main focus was always her. "He asked me to give us a last chance, and I tried to make it up to him by spending as much time as I could by his side… but what you were about to witness was the moment I finally told him this is not working." She took a deep breath and rested her forehead against yours. "I've been in love with you for months, it wouldn't be fair to any of us if I chose him, knowing that I love you."

You felt tears pooling in your eyes, and your heart was beating erratically, but you never felt as happy as you did at that moment.

You pulled her mouth to yours then, muttering between kisses that you loved her too.

~

After that, you felt a strange sort of confidence you've never felt before. Maybe it was because little by little you were becoming more courageous, or maybe it was because you knew Natasha would be by your side no matter what.

You didn't change overnight, no, but you didn't shy away from things as much as you did before.

Natasha made you want to be better.

There was no label to what you two had, it was all too new, too fragile. You didn't want to spoil anything. The only thing you knew was that things with her felt… common, mundane, but not in a bad sense, it's just- you could be yourself with her, and she didn't have to put up any walls with you.

Even in the midst of all the hectic dangerous day to day of an Avenger, you still felt at home with her.

~

Taking down Ultron was a piece of cake compared to having to deal with the Sokovia Accords.

Of course you sided with Steve, and you had to admit it broke your heart a little to see Natasha taking Tony's side, but you couldn't accept being controlled by anyone anymore. You wouldn't.

Tony's side had no chance against you and Wanda together. The two of you immediately became friends after meeting; Vision attributed this instant connection to your powers, both coming from the same source.

It was almost as if you could feel her, and all you felt was sadness and pain. You felt yourself wanting to be a guiding light in the poor witch's life, even if your own was pretty much miserable before the Avengers.

Natasha took it upon herself to help you make Wanda feel at home, and your love for the ex-assassin only grew. You wondered how someone who was taught only evil could be so inherently good.

It didn't take long for Wanda to become one of your best friends, second only to Natasha.

Whenever you and the witch fought together you were unstoppable and, when the time came to fight against half of your new family, it showed.

Rhodes laid half dead on the floor, Vision had a couple of sparks leaving his body as if he was overworking himself, the Spider-Man stood trapped in a magical cage, and Tony's suit got destroyed in the blink of an eye.

The sight of Natasha going against T'Challa, taking a stance on the right side, made your heart swell with both pride and affection.

Of course, things wouldn't be easy in the future, both of you went against the law, and you were officially fugitives, but in your eyes, it was worth it.

You helped Wanda escape with Vision after Steve and Bucky left, and you promptly took Natasha's hand and flew away from the United States.

It was a couple of weeks later when you found yourself in Norway with her, living the quiet life in a trailer.

~

The quiet life didn't even last a whole night.

You were nervous about sleeping in the same bed as her; the two of you were taking things slow so both of you could learn to navigate each other's trauma and, hopefully, heal together.

The night after her first confession you had decided to ask Natasha why she was drawing away from you so much. You learned of her views on physical touch, and of how she acted when her feelings became too overwhelming. She told you she drew away from you because she was scared of her feelings, as she never felt for someone as much as she felt for you.

For her, physical touch was something superficial, trivial, something she was taught to use as a weapon, as a means of manipulation, so when she found herself so enamored with you she didn't want to sully you with her touch.

It took a while to make Natasha realize that her hands were clean, not a single drop of red in them. She more than made up for all the things she was forced to do when in the Red Room. It took time, but she finally started seeing how she was more than deserving of your touch (which was ironic, for you never felt deserving of hers).

So, yeah, you were nervous about finally spending your first night sleeping in the same bed… that didn't happen, though.

First came the Taskmaster, then Budapest, Yelena, the prison break, and finally Melina. And weirdly enough, her dysfunctional family became a supporting system for you, almost as much as her.

~

You always knew what Natasha was capable of, but after seeing the Red Room first hand you finally understood why.

Somehow, someway, Dreykov and his Widows found out about you, and more than that, they found out about your relationship with Natasha. Now he didn't want just her, he wanted the two of you.

So there you were, strapped to a chair, with cuffs that somehow inhibited both your magic and your super strength. And as if that wasn't enough, the Taskmaster held a strange gun in her hands, a gun that, according to Dreykov, could bypass your healing factor.

Things seemed dire; you were incapacitated while Natasha couldn't really do anything against Dreykov, nor could she attack the Taskmaster (otherwise Dreykov's gun would be tested for real). But your Natalia was a smart one, thus when Dreykov lost the battle of wills and attacked, Nat acted as if he was actually hurting her, and finally, when he punched her face for the last time, she threw herself to the floor near the chair you were strapped to.

With hands moving almost faster than your eyes could follow, she broke you off of your chains, and in a flurry of movement, she severed her nerve by bashing her head against the chair.

With the two of you free, she flung herself at Dreykov and you used your magic to blast the gun away from the Taskmaster, sending the girl you now knew to be Antonia right through the wall.

With red eyes and unsheathed claws, you used your magic to bind Dreykov's hands and feet apart, making him float midair as Natasha approached him slowly.

"You know, you were all safe, hidden in the dark," Nat said, each menacing step she took made Dreykov's eyes widen a little bit more "but you messed up. I bet you never realized my sister took after me."

Natasha was now face to face with him, her eyes full of a hatred you had never seen before "And as if your own mess up wasn't enough, you had to go and threaten the woman I'm going to marry someday; that's when you painted a big fat target on your sorry back"

You could feel Natasha's satisfaction as she punched him in the face, again and again, and again. She procured a knife then, and buried it in Dreykov's gut with a finality that only came from fulfilling a long, overdue mission.

But then you saw a red beam of light coming straight her way, your eye identified Antonia's gun on the girl's lap, pointing at Nat.

Your body didn't freeze this time, quite the contrary, it moved almost as if on its own accord, not that you'd ever do something different. You've always heard that love was for show, but you loved Natasha Romanoff so much that you'd die for her in secret, with only her's and Antonia's gazes as witnesses to your sacrifice.

You jumped. The bean hit you.

Even if you didn't survive, it would be ok, after all, just the knowledge that Nat loved you as much as you did her was enough to have made life worth living.

~

Your burial was scheduled in a secluded place, Nat reached out to all the other Avengers, and even the ones who signed the accords declared a truce in honor of your memory.

Steve knelt beside your coffin and cried his eyes out, for you were the sister he never had. Pepper held Tony and he buried his face in her neck in a failed attempt to hide his tears. Yelena petted Natasha's back as the redhead cried hunched over your body.

Nat blamed herself for not being able to break Clint free in time for your farewell, but she couldn't stand seeing your unmoving body anymore. She'd had Melina examine you, then she called in a couple of favors and got you to the best doctors money could buy. No one was able to even tell what had happened to you. Not even Antonia, after she got out of her mind control, could tell what was that ray she blasted you with.

"Nat," said a voice she knew well, but she didn't want to deal with him, she didn't want to talk to anyone.

"I do not know who you are, but now is not a good time" Yelena said with a little bite in her voice.

"My name's Bruce," he said, "I just wanted to say my condolences… When did…" he trailed off, not knowing how to say it.

"It's been a week, give or take," Natasha managed to say, pulling away from your unmoving body.

She gritted her teeth when she saw the frown on Bruce's face, she didn't want to deal with whatever the problem was.

"I'm sorry for being crude, but her body's in perfect condition, shouldn't it be in process of decompos-"

"Are you being serious right now?" Yelena gritted out.

"She's dead, Bruce, we took her to the best doctors." Natasha spat out.

Bruce didn't say anything, he just took out a small switchblade and slashed your skin, making Natasha pull him away and Steve punch him hard enough to make him fly all the way to the lake nearby.

"Holy shit," said Tony, "look at her arm!"

There, in front of their eyes, your skin slowly, very very slowly, knitted itself back together.

"How's it possible her powers persisted if she's dead?" Steve asked.

Tony shook his head "because she's not dead!"

Natasha Romanoff never felt her heart beating as fast as at that moment. You weren't dead. She'd have you back by her side.

~

You remembered all the nights when you'd hear the sound of tossing and turning, you could practically feel her uneasiness through the walls each night. The nightmares haunted her frequently and at that time you didn't know how to make them stop.

After everything went down, Bruce and Tony managed to find out that the ray basically made your heart stop, but your powers kept your organs alive, according to them you were hibernating. They took a couple of days, but your friends got your heart beating again. Now, after breaking the others from jail and safely evading the police, you and Natasha found yourselves in Norway once again.

See, you expected your first night sharing a bed with Natasha to be somewhat hurtful. You expected to see with your own eyes the extent of her nightmares, you expected not to be able to properly sleep due to the tossing and turning. Turns out you really didn't sleep, not because of her, but because you wanted to be awake, to be able to comfort her just in case.

A part of you found it weird that she didn't show any signs of bad dreams since you imagined that sleeping beside Natasha would be a testament to how haunted she was; you imagined the mumbling, the sweat, and the expression on her face that would show you what you always knew about. Her dreams were haunted by her past.

You imagined she'd twist and turn every night, you imagined you'd use your magic to soothe her.

As the days went by and you saw no sign of her night terrors, sleep came easily to you.

One particular morning she woke up before you, the light of the morning sun filtered through the window and bathed you in sunlight. You were facing her, your eyes closed, your hair a beautiful mess. She knew then and there that she'd never be able to live without you, that if one day you really left her behind, she'd promptly follow you.

You opened your eyes slowly only to see her already awake, looking at you as if she wanted to remember every single detail.

"Hi," you said with a shy smile.

"Hi," she whispered back, beaming at you.

You crept closer to her and tucked your head in her neck, basking in her smell, her warmth. You didn't say anything more, and neither did she, and that brought a lightness in your chest that you could only hope to be replicated in hers. There you two were, relaxed, tranquil, basking in the silence that only comes when two people understand each other, when there's strong enough a bond to form a family. She was your family, and it showed in the way you looked at her, in the way you touched her, in the way you always thought of her first. It showed in the way you interacted with her family, in the way you became thick as thieves with her sister, whom you now see as your own.

But there was just one thing that always bothered you…

"Will it be enough if I can never give you peace?" You asked her then, because you couldn't give her that, and Natasha Romanoff, more than anyone in the world, deserved peace.

"What are you talking about?" She asked, but it was a rhetorical question. You furrowed your brows and pulled back a little to look at her.

"You went through so much, Natasha; more than any other person I know. You, more than anyone, deserve to just be relaxed and not have to look over your shoulder; you deserve to sleep soundlessly and not be hunted down by any nightmare; you deserve not to feel the weight of everything that was forced onto you. I can't give you that." You said then, barely above a whisper, your eyes looking deep into hers. "I can't give you peace."

"Detka," she said, caressing your face, a small smile lighting up her beautiful features, "peace is not something you're normally able to give to other people… but if there's someone that does it for me, it's you".

You couldn't have heard it right, could you? How could you, of all people, offer it to her?

"What?" You asked then, perplexed.

"You helped me with getting my family back, you made me see that I made up for everything I've done under the Red Room's name; With you, I never have to look over my shoulder, I feel relaxed enough because I know you're always going to look out for me; I never have to worry about my enemies getting ahold of you, because you defied death itself; there's also the nightmares, I haven't had a single one since I first slept by your side. And of course, the love. You make me feel loved, truly loved, I've never thought someone could love me so wholly, but you do, and I love you just as much, and our love, in and of itself, it's peace."

You felt tears in your eyes, you felt butterflies in your stomach and bubbles in your chest. "I want to give you my all. Give you my peace, give you my wild… give you a child. I want to live the rest of my life by your side, Natasha Romanoff."

She smiled as she kissed you "Shall I buy the rings, then, my love?"

Turns out you didn't need to know if it'd be enough if you could never bring her peace, because you are her peace.

Natasha Romanoff taglist: @strangegardentaco, @madamevirgo, @Lovelyy-moonlight, @agent99galanzo

#natalia alianovna romanova #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #Natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff fanfiction #Natasha x you #natasha x reader #black widow x you #black widow imagine #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff imagines #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff fluff #Taylor swift made me do it #based on a taylor swift song #peace taylor swift

[myhairpintrigger]

HII IM DEEPLY AMAZED BY UR WRITINGS CUZ U GOT ME GIGGLING LIKE A SCHOOLGIRL AND KICKING MY LEGS. ANYWAYS!!

I would like to request angst to fluff for Aleksander where they were past lovers but reader was killed just like what happened to Luda. Eventually on the present time (Alina's timeline ig), during the winter fete, Aleksander saw reader's face as Alina was doing her magic showcase ig and Aleksander followed reader outside (maybe for fresh air) and then thats when reader started getting flash backs maybe a headache (DO UR MAGIC HERE LOVE) and maybe when whe wakes up, he's asleep by her side and she just says "Sasha?" in that sweet tone and ALL FLUFF

(SORRY IF THIS WAS A BIT LONG, IM KINDA HAVING AN ENERGY OUTBURST)

hi my anon baby <3 i worked on this for a couple of days. sorry it’s so late!!! i feel as if i’ve seen a couple fics like this and i tried to make it as different as i could while still staying within the margins of your request… i hope it’s okay.

warnings: canon typical violence, character death (kind of?) blood, angst, fluff, all of it. just all of it.

word count: 4.7k

of Wildflowers & Damnation

(aleksander morozova x fem!reader)

-

Some days were easier than others. Just as on the other side of the coin, some days were harder. Inconveniently, today happened to be one of the harder days for Aleksander. He tried to reason with himself often that after nearly five hundred years of living, that he shouldn’t be so affected by loss anymore. 

That didn’t make it any easier, unfortunately. He’d lost so much in his life, that he didn’t mourn so heavily, and then he’d lost you. 

He’d met you nearly two hundred years after the creation of the fold, and to say he loved you would be to say it was only a bit cold in the arctic, which is to say, it was a gross understatement. He loved you more deeply than he ever knew was possible, and perhaps that’s why it was so terribly hard to accept even all these years later, that you just weren’t alive any longer, while he lived on. 

He had tried to bring you back, he really did. Much to his mother’s dismay, for the second time in his life, he resorted to the use of merzost to heal you. But you never woke. 

Aleksander stood silently near his door. It was nearly time for him to find Alina, to join the festivities at the Winter Fete, to show the country’s most influential just how powerful the Sun Saint really was. He knew it was time to go, but his mind wouldn’t rest.  It wouldn’t stop replaying your last day with him. 

-

The two of you walked hand in hand through the forest that was just behind your small home. Aleksander wasn’t normally one for such plain and domestic types of endeavors, but the wildflowers were blooming in the valley at this time of year, and he wanted nothing more but to see you smile at them, as you did every year before that. 

“Do you have a favorite flower, Sasha?” You had asked him softly and looked up at him with a big grin. You better than anyone knew that he wasn’t much of a flower person, but the question was still on your mind as you walked together. 

He thought to himself for a moment as he peered down at your excited face and then he shrugged, “Oh, there’s too many to choose from, my lovely. Perhaps a dandelion.”

“Dandelions are weeds, Aleksander.” You pointed out and he shook his head and nudged your side. 

“They still bloom, do they not?”

You didn’t seem to like this answer, because you simply huffed under your breath and gave his hand a little squeeze, “Okay but I meant a real flower. Not a little yellow weed.” You insisted. 

He thought for a moment longer and then he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to your hairline, “Alright. Poppies.” He finally conceded and you seemed to like this answer much more than the last, because you hummed and sidled up to him sweetly, your head resting against the side of his arm. 

“Poppies. I would’ve taken you for a rose person.” You mused. 

“And why roses?” He asked, curious to hear your response. 

“Because. They’re terribly beautiful, but you wouldn’t dare just grab one recklessly. They’re covered in thorns. You have to be gentle with them, work around the thorns. Then it’s yours to have. Kinda like you. Just gotta work around your thorns.” You replied and then let out a tiny giggle, “At least, that’s what I did. Seemed to work out just fine for me.” 

Your words made his chest feel as if it was flooding with impossible new amounts of affection for you and he stopped the two of you where you walked and he leaned down to delicately wrap both of his arms around your waist. You eagerly wrapped your tiny arms around his shoulders and he moved down a bit more, closer to your level. 

To Aleksander, you were the sweetest thing in the world. Everything from your kind smile to your fiery attitude made him swell with love for you. To love and be loved in return was such a strange concept for him to grasp. Especially when the returned love was given by such a gentle soul such as yourself. He often found himself unworthy of such a love, unworthy of your kindness, your care, your acceptance. You knew of his past transgressions, yet you loved him anyways, always insisting that mistakes get made. Everyone messes up. To the world, he was The Darkling. The Black Heretic. A wicked man with a soul as dark as his eyes. That version of himself even existed in his own mother’s eyes. But to you, he was simply Aleksander. 

He held you even tighter now and he buried his face in your hair for a long time before he slowly pulled away from you and brought his hands up to delicately cup your face. He held your face so gently as if he was convinced it would shatter between his fingers and he watched your eyes, fascinated by you. 

“What a sweet little thing, you are. What did I ever do in this life to have been blessed with such a love?” He asked softly, leaning down to nudge his nose against yours a few times. 

“If I had to guess, it might have had something to do with your sympathy for weeds. I suppose they need love too.” You teased, and he didn’t even bother rolling his eyes at your teasing before he pressed a tender kiss to your lips. You kissed him back and placed your hands on top of his, letting out another little giggle into his mouth. He pulled back and watched you in amusement, a smile spreading across his own face. 

“What could you possibly be laughing at during a moment like this?” He asked and you scrunched your nose up and patted the backs of his hands a few times. 

“Your beard tickled my lip.” You replied gleefully, your eyes meeting his in a mirthful gaze. 

He slowly pulled away from you and took your hand again, pulling you into his side as the two of you started to walk once more, “Shall I cut it then?” He asked and chuckled. 

You practically skipped alongside him as the two of you walked and you shook your head, “No. I think you look handsome. But you might need a haircut soon. You’ve got bangs nearly.” You pointed out and reached up with your free hand to push a strand of hair away from his eyes, “Don’t worry. I can do it for you.” You added and laid your head against the side of his arm once again. 

He laced his fingers in between yours and gave your hand an affectionate squeeze as he led you down along the dirt path, “How have your lessons with my mother been going?” He asked. 

It was your turn to nearly roll your eyes now and you took a quick glance up at Aleksander, “Well. She doesn’t like me much, and I’m still not very good at controlling my fire so… to be continued. Maybe. I don’t know. Perhaps I just don’t want to learn anymore. I have no use for these powers.” You replied and tapped the side of his hand with your pinky finger. 

You were an Inferni, a poor one at that. Normally Aleksander would protest and tell you to embrace your gift but he didn’t this time, resigning to let you speak your mind. If you didn’t want to pursue your abilities, he wouldn’t force you, “I don’t think she dislikes you.” He replied down at you finally. 

“Oh, I think she does. She’s always got a backhanded comment locked and loaded just for me.” You argued with a little sigh. 

Aleksander knew it wasn’t you that she disliked in specific. It was just the fact that his mother disliked the fact that he was selfish enough to let himself love you. She always insisted that he’d ruin you, just like the girl he loved before you. She insisted that he wasn’t meant for you, always telling him to set you free before he inadvertently broke your wings. Deep down, he knew his mother was right. She usually was. But he couldn’t bring himself to ever make you leave. Not now. He was too far in. 

He shook his head a couple of times and sighed, “She’s not exactly inviting. But that’s not to say she dislikes you. Don’t pay her any mind, my love.” He replied and then brought your intertwined hands up to his lips so that he could place a few light kisses to your knuckles.

He lowered your hands back down between the two of you once again and he glanced up over the hill in the distance. You two were nearly to the small valley and he could tell your excitement was growing, because your steps got more hurried and you occasionally would let out giddy squeals and hums. 

A snap of a stick on the path behind you had Aleksander sweeping you in front of him as he turned around to survey the area. The two of you had stopped walking now and he looked around behind both of you, finding nothing. 

“What was that?” You asked quietly and glanced up at your lover, feeling a bit uneasy. 

“I’m not sure, darling.” He replied cautiously and turned back around to glance down at you. 

Your eyes were already fixed up on his face. You didn’t look scared, but you didn’t look like you felt too secure either, and he didn’t blame you. Something had shifted in the forest around you two, there was a strange feeling. You grabbed onto his arm tightly and you gave it a little tug. 

“Sasha, we don’t have to go any farther. We can head back home now.” You whispered, but he shushed you softly and turned back around slowly to check the path behind the pair of you. 

A small snapping sound came again, but this time it was now in front of the two of you. There was a little shuffle and another snap and he felt you yank his arm again.

“Aleksander.” 

He turned around as your grip on his arm loosened and he looked down at your face, which was now drained of color. You wobbled a bit and fell forward onto him, and he swiftly caught you with a shocked exclamation of your name. 

He held you upright and that’s when he saw the arrow that had lodged itself in your back and stuck out through your chest. He wildly looked around and had spotted two men in thick furs darting out from behind a tree. Drüskelle. He had barely a second to move the two of you before they let loose another arrow and he retaliated quickly. 

One of the men let out a yell in their native tongue and Aleksander wasted no time in quickly diving down to the ground with you as another arrow flew. He gently sat you up against one of the small trees on the edge of the path and turned around, and with zero hesitation, finished the two men off easily with The Cut. As they fell to the ground, he looked around for more. When none came, he turned to you and scooped you up into his arms as quickly as he could, not daring to pull the arrow from your chest quite yet. 

“Hey, hey. Y/n. You’re going to be alright.” He insisted. 

But the way your head lolled to the side weakly made him think otherwise. You didn’t respond to him, but you looked up into his eyes, tears beading in the corners of yours. 

“We’re going home. I’m taking you to my mother, we can fix this.” He promised and didn’t wait a single second more before he was dashing off down the path with you hanging all but limply in his arms. He could feel the warmth of your blood seeping through the sleeve of his shirt and he grit his teeth, refusing to let himself panic. You were going to be okay. You had to be. There wasn’t a chance in hell that Aleksander was going to let you go now that he had finally found you after years upon years of being alone. He didn’t notice the tears gathering in his own eyes until they were falling down his cheeks and you let out a distressed sound.

“No, Sasha. Don’t cry. It’ll be okay.” You whispered hoarsely, and the sound of your voice only made it worse.

He ran straight out of the forest and through the field behind your home before he finally ran through the back door. He laid you down on your side atop the round wooden table in the middle of the room and he yelled for his mother, who came shortly after he called. 

“Mother. We need to do something. Drüskelle, in the forest attacked us, and they-“ he started frantically, only to be cut off by the older woman.

“There is nothing you can do, Aleksander.” She said shortly and then shook her head, “We don’t have a healer nearby. We aren’t healers ourselves.”

He looked over at you, and you seemed so much smaller than usual now, curled up on the table with an arrow still protruding from your back, “Mother, there has to be a way. I will not let my lover die.” 

“There is no way. There is no natural way for us to save lives. You know this. Bid her goodbye.” She said sternly. 

His head perked up a bit and he reached out to make sure you were still alive by touching your pulse. 

Weak, but still there. Just barely. 

“But I can. I can do it, I’ve practi-“ 

“You cannot!” She protested and held her hand up to her son, “You will not! You will take whatever time you have left and say goodbye, for it is only the way of life. We see life come and go and we remain. Not even you can change that. I’ll give you space. That is final.” Baghra said sharply and turned on her heel to leave the two of you alone. 

Aleksander was at your side in half a second, and he crouched down to be level with your face. Tears were rolling across your face and your lip trembled fearfully. 

“It doesn’t hurt, Sasha. Don’t worry about me please.” You whispered and he reached out to brush tears from your eyes. 

“I’m going to fix this. Okay? You aren’t going to die today. I swear it.” He promised, but his faith was running thin. He reached out and he grabbed your arm gently and held you in place, “I’m going to remove the arrow, okay? And then we’re going to heal you.”

“You are not a healer, Aleksander. Don’t do this.” You begged softly and he looked down into your eyes again. He pursed his lips and shook his head a few times. 

“I won’t lose you. I won’t walk this earth without you by my side, do you understand?”

“No, Aleksander, no.” You protested, trying your best to sound stern like Baghra had, but your voice faltered and he knew you didn’t have much time left. 

He ignored your protests and grabbed hold of the arrow and quickly pulled it out of your back, and whatever voice you had left was spent on the wail you let out as your blood began to freely spill out over the table. He quickly threw himself over you, only to find you shaking. He looked down at your face to learn that your shaking was from your silent sobs and he frowned deeply. 

He was going to save you. It was going to be alright. 

He closed his eyes and placed his hand over the bleeding hole in your back, wracking his brain for the strength to use the magic so forbidden that had been abused by his ancestor, to heal you. To save you. 

He let out an agonized yell and finally felt the same cold, pricking sensation spread through his veins that had occurred the day he created The Fold. He felt stinging in his fingertips as he pushed out everything he could from his hand into your wound. Into you. 

At long last, the stinging stopped and subsided, and Aleksander realized you’d gone still under his touch. He felt a little splash of relief and he turned you around onto your back, only to find your eyes closed. He felt his face drain of all color and he shakily reached up to feel your pulse against your throat. 

Nothing. 

To say the days following were that of pure anguish was to put it lightly. He’d taken you to the valley of millions and millions wildflowers and laid you to rest there. At least he knew you’d be somewhere you loved. 

For weeks after your death, Baghra was full of warnings and disappointment for him, chastising him for using merzost once more. 

“You don’t know what you’ve done, Aleksander. You may have very well not healed your lover, but you don’t know what you’ve done. This will come back to you one day. You will regret it. There will be punishment.” She warned.

Not that he cared. 

“Let me regret it. Let it haunt me for the rest of my days, woman. It’s not the only ghost that hangs above my head, now.”

-

You didn’t recall much. At all. All you knew is that one day you suddenly did recall, as if it was the beginning of your life. 

Amnesia the doctor called it. You’d likely had a head injury and forgotten things, that’s all. 

Whatever you were before, whatever life you led, it was erased from your mind without a single clue as to what it had been prior. In the last few years that you started recalling, you’d worked as a dress maker in the city of Ketterdam. When one of your clients had graciously invited you to come to Ravka’s Winter Fete with her and her daughter in trade of two elegant gowns for them, you’d accepted her offer immediately. 

So there you stood, in the hallway of the crowded Ravkan palace, eyes traveling the faces of everyone who passed by. The two girls you’d attended with had gone off to greet the royal family, and you’d stayed back, opting to survey the crowd instead. You’d heard word that the Sun Summoner was going to be putting on a display in only a few short moments, and just as the thought crossed your mind, it all began. It started with a whirlwind of activity, and you watched the Grisha throughout the room showcase their abilities skillfully, and the sight invoked a strange feeling deep within your chest. You had the sudden urge to bring your hands together just as they did, feeling as if you could perform alongside them. You fought the urge back and flexed your hands a bit at your sides, shaking off the strange feeling.

Your eyes travelled to the front of the room and they fell upon a girl and a man, standing shoulder to shoulder, both wearing black. You assumed it was the Sun Summoner and who you had heard to be General Kirigan, the fierce Ravkan general who also happened to be Grisha. As the pair began their display of power, you felt your head begin to ache dully, and once the Sun Summoner’s light lit up the entire room, the pain in your head only grew sharper. 

Everyone in the room seemed to be filled with excitement, and as the display was done, the volume seemed to increase tenfold, making you clutch your head between your palms. 

The pair at the front of the room turned around and when you saw The General’s face, you blinked a few times. A thought clawed at the inside of your mind, begging to be let free. But you didn’t know how. You didn’t even know what it was. He seemed to notice you shortly after you noticed him, and you could’ve sworn you saw a look of complete astonishment cross his face as quick as a flash of lightning.  

Suddenly the room seemed to blur out as if in your periphery and you gasped as little flickers of imagery flashed behind your eyes. 

A field of flowers, the darkest eyes you’d ever seen, and fire. You furrowed your brow together and you leaned your hand up against the nearest wall, your chest rapidly rising and falling with short, quick breaths. Disorientation fell upon you and you found yourself stumbling through the crowd of partygoers and out of the room. The bustling hallway was a struggle for you to navigate, but you eventually prevailed and found the door to the courtyard. You all but went falling out the door and you stumbled clumsily until you reached grass and you held your hand to your chest as you stopped running. You felt sick to your stomach and your hands began to feel clammy and you swore that you heard someone calling your name- though you were unsure how you knew the name was yours- because you hadn’t been called by it before. You couldn’t even respond in anyway before your eyes rolled back into your head, and you were collapsing backwards towards the ground. 

-

Aleksander felt insane when he followed you out of the palace. He’d had days where all he could do was think of you, but never once had he seen your face anywhere but his mind. He called after you, but you didn’t seem to notice, and if you did, you didn’t respond. He walked briskly up to you just in time to watch you collapse, and he lunged forward to catch your falling body in his arms awkwardly. The strange angle at which he held you up at made you look so small and fragile, and he hoisted you up into his arms. It couldn’t be you. There was no possible way it could have been. He didn’t dare look down at your face for a few moments, standing there in the courtyard with his jaw set firmly. 

Finally, he did dare to look down, and when he did, he almost found himself collapsing with you. Sure, you were unconscious and your hair had become a bit tousled, but there was no mistaking the face that he saw. It was yours. His y/n. 

He looked around wildly, trying to come up with an explanation for the mere fact that his very dead lover was here. How you were here. He buried you. He reached up with one hand and he brushed the backs of his fingers across your cheeks. He refused to let himself feel relieved or happy or excited. If this was the punishment his mother had promised him years ago, he wouldn’t give in. But he couldn’t just leave you. Not out here, not like this. He stood with you in his arms for a while longer in contemplation before ultimately deciding he’d take you back to his chambers and wait for you to wake. If you woke. Then he’d proceed to ask who you were, to figure out what was happening. 

He carried you off through the night towards the nearly deserted Little Palace, and once inside, he made a beeline for his bedroom. Once he reached the shelter of his room, he closed the door fast and locked it, looking around to make sure no one was inside. He promptly walked you to his bed and laid you out on it, staring down at you. The urge to lay at your side was consuming his every thought and he ground his teeth together, fighting back a round of tears. 

Yours was the face he saw when he fell asleep. Every night. Some dreams were pleasant. You and him in the flowers, or even in bed together, happily. He’d hear your laugh, your hums, your sweet voice… all of it. Some dreams were not so kind, and these were the ones where he relived your last moments over and over again. 

His endless patience had seemed to run out and his will to remain complacent broke. He’d take the pain of having to lose you again if this wasn’t real, he’d be damned all over again to feel the emptiness of your loss if only just a moment of his time could be spent by your side one last time. 

So he kicked off his boots and removed his black decadent kefta, and he slid down into the bed next to you, his eyes not leaving your face once. He reached out across the minimal space he gave between the two of you and he grazed his fingertips across your cheekbones, up into your hair, down the side of your neck and along your jaw. Everywhere. He traced the outline of your lips and he swiped the pad of his thumb across your chin. Not a single thing had differed from his memory. If you’d told him he’d plucked you out from behind his eyes and laid you out in front of him, he would’ve believed it. 

Oh yes, if he was to be damned with the consequences of trying to save you, then he’d take them. He’d take them graciously if it meant one last night at your side. 

-

He was unsure of when he fell asleep, but he didn’t ever realize that he had until he felt hands on his face. His eyes shot open and he expected sunlight to light up his room, but instead it was dark, with only a glimmer of silver light filtering through the window. He frantically looked across from him on his bed and he reached up to push the hands away from his face, but once his eyes focused in the moonlit room, he dropped his hands and found himself lost in your eyes instead. 

Your hands stayed against his cheeks and you seemed to be at a loss for words. He knew the feeling well. It was mutual. 

The state of unconsciousness you had fallen into had been one of unrest. Memories upon memories began to flood your head all at once. Still, you were unaware of how you were alive and how you had come to be unearthed, but you assumed it must have had something to do with the merzost that you so vehemently opposed him using. 

He reached out to touch your face so gently, as if he thought you were only a figment of the moonlight and would disappear underneath his touch. When you didn’t, he let out a sigh, one that sounded terrified and relieved all at the same time. You couldn’t find your voice while you stared at him, your mouth wanting to form a thousand words all at once. 

Until it settled on just one.  

“Sasha?”

To Aleksander, this was the sweetest sound he’d heard in his entire long life, and he couldn’t help the tears that loosed themselves from his eyes. He could only nod in response as he wrapped his arms around your small form and he pulled you against his chest. 

If this was damnation, then he’d embrace it with open arms, and if this was a second chance to save you from the consequences of his past, then he’d do better this time. Whatever the case may be, he wasn’t going to leave this room until he was sure you wouldn’t evaporate into nothing. He laid his hand ever so protectively against the back of your head and he leaned his own head down until his lips touched your hairline. He could’ve whispered a million things to you at that moment, promised you everything, sung you praises and profess his love until he ran out of the breath to do so with, but he’d never been one for that many words all at once. So he leaned down to press his lips against yours, and it said everything he couldn’t all at once. He pulled back slowly and he tipped your head back a bit so that he could gaze down at your face, unchanged by all this time. 

And so he uttered out a promise, one that he intended to keep this time, no matter the cost.

“Yes, my sweet girl. It’s me, and I will never lose you again.” 

#aleksander morozova x you #aleksander morozova imagine #aleksander morozova #aleksander morozova x reader #the darkling imagine #the darkling #the darkling imagine #the darkling x you #the darkling x reader #general kirigan #general kirigan imagine #general kirigan x reader #grishaverse #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone

[writingforatwistedworld]

Bigger request that I will cut in smaller pieces so I can serve soup.

Self-aware au

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, murder, manipulation, implied imprisonment, death, cannibalism, obsession, possessiveness, unhealthy relationship

I do not take any responsibility for you reading this no matter which age group you are from!

Entering your world

Azul felt like an octopus out of water

When he had heard Jade yelling out a warning it was already too late and he was already falling down the stairs, a student he made a deal with not too long ago standing not too far, his hands lowering themselves from the pushing him

And now he was laying on the floor in a place he didn't recognize

Moonlight filtered through the window of the room and a sleeping figure almost completely covered by a blanket was illuminated by its light and the light from the phone they were laying next to, indicating that they fell asleep whilst using it

Did he teleport to a different place? Azul still felt the burning sensation of the hard stone of the stairs hitting his body so he might have done that out of desperation...

And desperate he was when you turned over in your sleep and he could see your face

And thus, the screaming began

Imagine his surprise, no his shock after seeing the person he had admired, sought after for so long laying in front of him in their pajamas

Although, it would be better to say you did lay in your pajamas because now you were jumping up in fear for your life

But after fearing that a madman had broken into your house life with Azul was pretty nice

Azul is a pretty good cook from running Mostro Lounge so him making dinner is like going to an expensive restaurant

There is that thing about him wanting to pay you rent though…

You see, Azul is not someone who wants to leech (haha, get it?) off of someone

So, of course, he will give you money… though it is might be way too much

How he gets it?

You know, just some side jobs… a few contracts… give him a month and he will have the cafe down the street because the owner used it in a contract with Azul

“But he doesn’t have the twins so there is no way that he is dangerous” oh darling, you have seen NOTHING

Yeah, Azul isn’t good in sports, Azul hates anything that has to do with it so there is no way he will get ripped and start beating people into submission (also, that is below his level) but my man has tactics

In fact, he could haggle you out of your house, your job, your family (basically everything you own) whilst you walk happily away from the deal with nothing but a single shell in your pocket

Soon he will propose that you simply stay at home whilst he earns the money

He is just so thankful that you took him in so let him repay you

That repayment might end in him making you dependent on him but who am I to tell you that? Surely you have already understood what he is tryi- why are you saying yes?

Say goodbye to freedom. Say goodbye to your friends and family. Say goodbye to privacy

Although Azul has built up (scarily fast) his life in this world that still doesn’t mean he feels very safe here

Everyone is a human and who knows what scientists would do to him once they find out that he is capable of magic

So he is clingy… you might have lost blood circulation to your lower body once or twice due to him being unseperatable from you

If someone somehow (don’t ask me how) got close to you though? Oh they are done

Remember that haggling thing? Yeah that but with less haggling and more “I force you into a contract and then you will meet your doom”

They do serve desserts at cafes… wouldn’t eat those at his though

You would be surprised if you knew how easy it is to hide human remains in pastries

#yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twst x reader #self aware au #twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twsited wonderland azul #twst azul #yandere azul #azul ashengrotto #yandere azul ashengrotto #yandere azul x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #azul x reader #tw: yandere #tw: murder #tw: manipulation #tw: implied imprisonment #tw: death #tw: cannibalism #tw: obsession #tw: possessiveness #tw: unhealthy relationship

[yuurei20]

Short Translation from Twst the 2nd novel: Meeting Malleus (pt2)

"Yuuya quickly drops his eyes.

Regardless of what those horns might be, it must be uncomfortable for one to have their physical attributes stared at in such a manner.

Perhaps he has been rude.

This may be a beast-person, with horns like that. They do not seem so different from the horns of mountain goats or sheep. While this may not be so unusual in Twisted Wonderland, it certainly would be back in Yuuya’s former world.

Yuuya raises his head with a smile, trying to be as friendly as he can. ‘Um, it’s nice to meet you. Are you an upperclassman?’

In response, the man’s eyes go wide.

‘…could it be that you do not know who I am?’

’I don’t,’ Yuuya nods in confirmation. For some reason, the man looks stunned.

‘Well, well…how unusual,’ he responds, raising one corner of his mouth.

Yuuya is startled to realize that his thin lips are white, as if blood does not course through him at all.

His skin, as well, is pale as wax. Combined with his luminescent, lime-green eyes, Yuuya finds himself wondering if the color of their blood must be different.

The man gives a short laugh and exhales a satisfied sigh.

’This is quite amusing. My name is—‘

His words stop short.

'No, I shall not. Considering your ignorance of the world, I shall permit you to call me by a name of your choosing.’

The unexpected offer perplexes Yuuya. He is not accustomed to addressing people by nicknames upon meeting them for the first time.

‘Um, I wouldn’t want to be rude, so if I could maybe ask your name…’

‘I have said no. Did you not hear me?’

Yuuya feels a sudden chill run down his spine. Despite the once tranquil evening Yuuya goes stiff, a briar-like tension seizing his body and making it impossible to move.

Fear makes Yuuya’s heart race, and he comes close to losing his composure altogether. He should not attempt to defy this person who stands before him. Yuuya is taken over by a primal instinct that warns him: he must submit.

Suddenly, the night grows slightly brighter. Yuuya takes a deep breath and vigorously nods his head. It seems he had been forgetting to breathe. Yuuya’s heart still pounds loudly within his chest.

Realizing that Yuuya is not looking to defy him, the man appears to regain his pleasant mood. He gives another elegant smile, casting a glance towards Ramshackle Dorm.

‘However, it is unfortunate. If people have taken up residence here, this ruin is a ruin no longer.’

’That—might be true.’

‘If that is the case, I must find a new, more suitable place for my nightly walks. I shall take my leave.’

And with that, the man disappears, without awaiting a response.

Yuuya cannot tell if he used magic or simply vanished, melting out of sight. For a brief moment there are lingering, tiny specks of light, but in a blink of an eye they, too, are gone.

All that remains is the cloudy night, just as it had been before."

#twstnovel2 #twisted wonderland #Malleus Draconia #Kuroki Yuuya #twst translations

[beansmack2021]

Golden Era w/ Prompt 14

Now in their Fifth Year at Hogwarts, Mattheo and the Reader are in a happy relationship. Of course, with Professor Umbridge as the new Headmistress, they can't show it. They resort to longing glances in the halls and passing notes in their classes. They can get away with it in most other classes, but Umbridge still teaches Defense Against the Dark Arts...

TW: mentions of blood, open wounds, torture.

"Hold my hand. You're going to be fine"

Mattheo and Y/N had more or less mastered the art of discretion. They had to if there was any hope for their relationship with Dolores Umbridge around. She'd gone on a power trip, her Educational Decrees posted all around Hogwarts.

Number 31 said that boys and girls could not be within 8 inches of each other. Y/N had found that decree to be particularly ridiculous, especially when considering Quidditch practices and games, the teams being comprised of both girls and boys. Speaking of Quidditch, they also weren't allowed to fly unless at an official, authorized practice.

There were ways around the rules. Mattheo had managed to successfully sneak Y/N into their common room in the dungeons on several occasions, and nobody in Slytherin or Gryffindor dared to report them. Especially not since Draco was a member of the Inquisitorial Squad, and one of their best friends. He'd threatened members of their own house with telling Umbridge about their rulebreaking if they said anything about Mattheo and Y/N (on several occasions).

Sneaking into an out of the common room was risky with Filch and Mrs. Norris prowling the halls, so those visits were few and far between. Since many of the other professors disagreed with Professor Umbridge's crazy decrees, they let a lot slide in their classes. This included note passing, which was Mattheo's favorite form of discreet flirting.

"The whole school should be bowing before your beauty", "Your smile tears me apart in all the best ways", and "Each wait between visits pulls apart at my soul, and your kiss is the only thing that can put it back together" were some of the notes Y/N would open and furiously blush about, even hours after receiving them. Professor McGonagall, who disliked Umbridge more than anyone else, was the most lenient with note passing.

Mattheo got his high from breaking the rules in Umbridge's class. He'd turn from his seat in front of her and give her a peck on the lips when Umbridge had her back turned, earning claps on the back from Blaize every time he got away with it. He'd pass back the sweetest notes, and usually Y/N could read it quickly enough and then hide it under her papers and continue to pretend taking notes while actually writing her response.

Usually.

"I'd love you from light-years away, 8 inches is nothing."

Her wide grin quickly turned to a mask of neutrality as Umbridge called her name. "Miss L/N, while I'd be thrilled if you were to prove me wrong, I'm sure you don't find the Theory of Magic so riveting as to grin like a baboon receiving a banana. Show me what you have."

Y/N picked up the note, knowing well what was about to happen, and held the note out to Umbridge. The moment the borish woman had touched the paper, however, it folded itself into a bird, flitted just above reach, and burst into flames. The ashes fell back onto the table like snow, a red rose resting on top of what once was a love note.

"I'm going to ask you once. Who handed you that note?" Umbridge smiled but it looked more like a grimace. She leaned in and said quietly, "Tell me who it was and your punishment won't be as severe." Y/N locked eyes with Mattheo just briefly enough that Umbridge didn't notice, looked back at her and simply shook her head. Umbridge stood up and brushed some non-existent dust from her dress. "Very well then. Detention! My office at 5 o'clock," she leaned in again to finish her sentence with a wicked grin, "sharp."

"I'm so sorry, love. I didn't think she'd have seen it." Mattheo was groveling. He felt absolutely horrible, and Y/N he did, but it was her own fault for not putting the note down sooner. She'd reminded him of that over and over again, but still, he'd apologized relentlessly. She'd just sighed and wolfed down some ham and a roll before heading to Umbridge's office to serve her time.

Umbridge opened the door just as she was about to knock. "Ah, punctuality. We may just be out of here before midnight. Come in. Sit."

Y/N glanced around the room. The walls were bright pink and there were ceramic plates with cats on them, prowling about, not unlike the moving portraits throughout the halls of Hogwarts. Everything in the room was very... pink. Y/N supposed to woman who lived there was, too. She noticed some parchment and a quill at a small desk in the center of the room. She also noticed that there was no ink pot. She took her seat, and Umbridge sat at the bigger desk in the corner of the room.

"You'll write 'I will not be insubordinate' until I tell you that you may stop." Y/N was confused. "Professor, I don't have any ink." The woman chuckled and it sent a chill down her spine. "You won't need any. Begin."

Y/N picked up the quill and started to write on the paper, instantly met with searing pain. She looked at her hand and gasped. There were deep cuts in her own messy scrawl, reading exactly what she'd written on the paper. They healed over before her eyes, and she glanced at the paper.

"Is this-"

"Your blood? That it is. Neat little thing, isn't it?" Umbridge just smiled and then turned back to her paperwork.

Y/N knew things would only get worse for her if she didn't do as she was told, so she picked up the quill and continued to write, grimacing with pain each time the skin on her hand healed over.

After a few hours, the pen couldn't do much to heal her hand. She was smearing her own blood on her hand before continuing to write. She was nearly numb to the pain now, tears in her eyes as Umbridge asked her a question.

"Do you have something to say?"

Y/N was unblinking as a tear slipped down her cheek. "I will not be insubordinate."

"Good girl. I'll write you a note in case one of our wonderful prefects stops you so that you don't end up right back here," she giggles and Y/N shakes violently. "Go directly to your dormitory, do not make any unauthorized stops along the way, unless you intend to use the restroom. Have a good night, and I'll see you in class tomorrow, Miss L/N."

Y/N couldn't find it in herself to go to the restroom, though. She walked straight up to Gryffindor Tower, Godric's painting swinging open for her, with almost an apologetic look. It was like the founder's portrait was saying "I'm sorry for what our institution has turned into." Y/N sees Hermione, Ron and Harry chatting on the couches in the center of the common room. Hermione glances over and immediately stands as she lets out a sob.

"Y/N! You've been in Umbridge's office for hours. She must have been really furious after... your hand!" She scurries over as Y/N looks down and sees the blood still dripping from her hand. "She made you use the quill, didn't she?" Harry doesn't seem shocked at all. She can't seem to make the words come out, so she just nods. "Madam Pomfrey loaned me a roll of tape and some gauze, just in case someone else from our house has to put up with Umbridge's torture. Hermione, do you want to clean her hand while I grab that stuff from my dorm?"

Hermione nods and grabs one of the throw blankets from the couch, whispering Aguamenti and wiping her hand with the wet cloth. Harry is back with the tape and gauze just as Hermione is dabbing her hand to dry it, grimacing each time Y/N hisses in pain. He covers it tightly enough that the bleeding would stop within the next few minutes, but not tight enough to cut off circulation.

"Who passed you the note, Y/N? It was Mattheo, right?" Hermione elbowed Ron. "Ow! What? I was just asking. Quick thinking with the fire." Y/N shook her head. "That wasn't me. We charm the paper we use to pass our notes so that they aren't there in case we're caught. We've never been caught, so I didn't know his would do that. The ink just vanishes from mine when someone other than him and I touches the paper."

Hermione nods, seemingly impressed. "It's very late, I think we should all get some rest. Won't be learning properly if we're all exhausted." She heads up the stairs to her dorm, and Ron and Harry exchange a look before standing, stretching, and heading up the stairs to their own. Y/N just sits on the couch for a while, tracing the words 'I will not be insubordinate' over her bandages.

She doesn't say anything to anyone at breakfast, and is silent in her other classes. Mattheo doesn't try to hand her any notes, but he does cast worried glances and try to make eye contact, but Y/N can't look at him. She can't look at anyone. She's afraid that if she does, Umbridge will accuse her of some other act of insubordination and she'll end up right back in the disgustingly pink office.

She's a model student throughout the rest of the day, hurrying from the room after her last class of the day, Potions. A hand covers her mouth and pulls her through the portrait doorway of the Slytherin common room. She immediately panics, dropping her books and turns to try to leave without them so that she isn't caught somewhere she isn't supposed to be, but a pair of strong arms wrap around her, making hushing noises that are meant to calm her as she sobs.

When she finally calms down enough to stop fighting, Mattheo turns her to face him. He wipes a tear from her cheek, and she looks down. "Oh, baby" he says quietly, heartbreak clear in his tone. He brushes some hair from her face. She starts crying, sobs wracking her body, and he pulls her into his arms. He has one hand at the nape of her neck, the other around her upper back, shushing her once again. When she's calm, he uses his hand to push her chin up. "Look at me."

Y/N forces herself to meet his gaze. Her lip quivers and she sees sorrow and empathy in his deep, brown eyes. He doesn't have to utter a single word for her to know what he's trying to say. He grabs her hand, thankfully the one that isn't wrapped, and walks her to one of the sofas in the middle of the room. He sits down, hand on her hips to hold her close to him, just looking up at her.

Y/N starts to pick at the bandages on her hand, the nervousness from before creeping up into her again. She looks towards the door, expecting Filch to suddenly burst into the room and drag her by her hair all the way up to Umbridge's office. Mattheo pulls her out of her thoughts, gingerly grabbing her wrist to exam the bandages. He slowly and carefully peels them back to look at the damage.

She sees his jaw clench and unclench and then clench again, and there's a dangerous look in his eyes. He takes a deep breath, gently covering the cuts that are sure to scar, and kisses the rebandaged hand. "I'm sorry. I love you so much. I'm sorry."

Y/N is violently shaking again as she sobs, and he grabs her uninjured hand. "Hold my hand. You're going to be fine. I'm here. I'm sorry. I love you so much."

He stands, crossing the room to grab something resting on the mantle. He turns, a red rose in his hand. He hands it to her, and as she takes it, he presses a kiss to her forehead. He holds her close as she twirls the rose between her fingers. "That bitch will pay. Someday, she'll pay." It's a promise that he makes to her, and to himself. "I'm sorry. I love you."

#mattheo riddle #draco malfoy #blaize zabini #theodore nott #enzo berkshire #slytherin #slytherin boys #x reader #reader insert #harry potter #hermione granger #ron weasley #golden era

[ddemurezy]

The Witch of Westeros

PROLOGUE - see you on the other side

-×-

disclaimer:

I don't own the Scarlet Witch and her storyline, credits to Marvel and Stan Lee.

gif not mine!! got it from pinterest!

this fanfic doesn't follow the plot of the series of HOTD nor it's books. I simply made it up. major spoilers for doctor strange: multiverse of madness. 

note:

tbh, this is my first time ever writing a story in 2nd pov so if it sucks, I'm sorry😭

anyway, It's finally here! sorry for the long wait, hope you enjoy!!

warnings:

mention of blood, stabbing, heads cut off, turning things to ashes. I think that's all, if there's anything I missed out, don't be afraid tell me. !! NOT EDITED !!

-×-

The sound of roaring and explosion mixed with the smell of fire, gunpowder, and the distinct, metallic tang of blood was the only thing you can comprehend at this moment. Your eyes darted from your companions to the demons you were fighting. The fight would’ve ended ages ago if you didn’t know there were thousands—no, millions, of them. Not to mention they can regenerate making your head hurt more than it already did. 

Saving the multiverse became a job—a responsibility, more likely— for not only you but for Dr. Strange and surprisingly, Loki. It’s been months, years, or perhaps it has been decades since you have been saving the multiverse. Time has been a bit complicated for you, per se.

You, The Master of Mystic Arts, and the God of Mischief traveled to countless realities, defeating enemies such as demons, monsters, or even evil variants of yourselves. 

Going through infinite dimensions and saving the other realities was the least idea you thought you would be doing in the future when you first joined the Avengers. Yet here you were, fighting your way through a crowd of merciless nightmarish demonic creatures who can regenerate. Your mission was to retrieve a necklace that holds much power and once belonged to a god and was now passed down to its descendants. It was stored inside the temple on the very top of the mountain that the demonic creatures were guarding. You’re meant to grab it, bring it back to the owner before anyone else can use it to their advantage, and leave without a hassle. 

“Anyone care to help me here?” Dr. Strange yelled from a few miles away. He created a portal, making the group of demons from his fall down and he snapped the portal shut, cutting the heads off. 

“Classic.” Loki chuckled, witnessing the action as he move to stab the demon that jumped on him, grimacing when its blood hit his face. 

You smirked, blasting ten demonic creatures away from you, turning them to ashes as they tried attacking you again. “I don’t think you need anymore help from there, Stephen.” you teased and the said man groaned when another group started hitting him.

“Damn demons. Can’t you do your thing and kill them all, Wanda?” Dr. Strange asked. 

“I can, but they keep coming back no matter what.” You told them. 

Loki muttered under his breath before sharing his thoughts. “They just keep coming back no matter how many times we kill them. It’s impossible for this to happen.”

“Loki, we are in a different reality. I don’t think there is anything more impossible than this.” You retorted, flicking your wrist and lifting one demon and throwing it to the approaching group. 

“What I mean is, there’s a possibility that something or perhaps, someone is summoning them.” Loki proclaimed his theory.

“A distraction.” You sighed out in realization, your eyes widening as you looked around for any sign of different figures in the crowd. A figure walked by miles away from you guys. They were wearing a black hood over their head, covering their face. 

They must’ve felt your gaze and turn to look at you, their purple strange eyes meeting yours before they glared and ran away. 

“Stay here! I’ll handle this.” You shouted to them, lifting yourself with your magic and flying toward where the figure went, ignoring the yells of protest of your two friends. 

You flew away from the crowd of creatures and landed in front of the small cottage you saw them run into, placing a shield behind you so that they cannot attack you from behind. Your eyes hardened seeing it all dark with no trace of light anywhere. Hesitantly, you stepped in, summoning your magic to see a little clearer and to be ready to fight if something or someone attacks you. 

The sound of footsteps approaching behind you alarmed you and you turn around, ready to blast your magic to them until you saw their faces when they got closer.

“Loki! Stephen!” You gasped in surprised, internally sighing in relief when you saw them before frowning. “What are you doing here? I thought I told you I will handle this.” you scolded.

“We can’t just leave you to walk in here with no back ups.” Loki reasoned and Dr. Strange nodded beside him. 

There was no point in fighting so you just nodded and lead the way deeper into the dark cottage that seems to be bigger on the inside. As you walked in silence with all your guard up, a clashing sound was heard behind you, alarming the three of you.

“He’s right, Wanda. We know you can handle yourself but we need to make sure you’re safe.” Stephen said.

But before any of you could say a word, a figure stepped in front of you and pressed two fingers on your temples making you freeze in place.

You could hear Loki and Stephen yelling behind you, and they seem like they were struggling too but you can’t focus on them or anything but the pain you felt on your mind that’s spreading through your whole body. They leaned down and whisper in your ear before letting you go. You tried fighting it and summoning your magic but it was impossible to move. A portal started growing from under your feet and before you could grab into anything, you fell down fast in an unknown, perhaps never ending, hole. 

But you remembered what they had whispered in your ear. 

“Видимо се на другој страни.”

See you on the other side.

#hotd x reader #dsmom spoilers #wanda maximoff #hotd fanfic #aemond targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x reader #hotd imagine #house of the dragon

[yomamamagic]

Hurt

Wanda Maximoff x reader

Angst/comfort

It was supposed to have been a smooth mission. But that’s what they say about every mission until it goes wrong somehow.

“Y/N, how’s the 4th floor?” You hear Steve’s voice talk to you through your earpiece.

“Not clear. Still searching for them.” You respond simply, as you quickly make your way through the halls of the facility.

“Report in when it’s clear. Be careful.” He says, and you continue to carefully monitor the hallways for enemies.

You then hear grunting and shouting coming from the other side of the floor. You knew Wanda was covering the opposite end that you were at. You begin running towards it until you see a corner turning left. Resting for a moment on the edge of the hall, you then quickly pop out around the corner.

The last thing you see is a blast of red magic going in all directions, and sending tons of enemies flying. But it also hits you, and the force makes you go flying back into the wall, your head hitting it with a loud thud. If you didn’t get knocked out from the impact, you would have heard Wanda’a scream of horror as she saw you.

Your eyes slowly open as you cringe from the bright lights you see. You look around before realizing you’re in the medical bay. All of a sudden you feel a throb of pain in the back of your head, and you reach back to touch it. It immediately stings, bad idea.

“Ah, Y/N, you’re awake.” you hear the doctor say as she walks in.

“Where’s…Wanda at?” You ask curiously. You figured she be here beside you.

“She left an hour ago. But she was by your side for quite a while. You’ve been out for a few hours.”

“Ah…” You sigh, you hoped she was doing alright.

The doctor lets you know of the details of your treatment, and releases you. In truth though, you just thought of seeing Wanda while she spoke, so you didn’t catch all of it. You make your way through the compound, looking in the general area and kitchen. You see Natasha eating an apple, and you approach her.

“Look who’s up!” She greets you with a smile, then noticing your worried expression. She already knows what you’re looking for.

“She’s in her room.” She informs you, and you thank her before leaving to see her.

You knock at her door, but get no response at first. After a few more tries you decide to just open it. You walk in to find Wanda sobbing on her bed, hugging her knees.

“Wands?” You approach her, as she quickly looks up at you.

She immediately springs up to greet you but stops, just before she reaches you.

“I’m so sorry…” She quietly says, wringing her hands. She always wrings her hands when she is upset. Usually when it is something regarding her powers.

“Oh baby..it isn’t your fault.” You say sweetly, as you reach up to take her hands. She reels back from you, putting her hands behind her back, and looking away. She feels so ashamed.

“I-I…hurt you…” She chokes up, her shoulders rocking up and down through her sobs. She tries to contain herself, but is failing.

You immediately step forward and hug her tightly. After a moment, she wraps her arms around you and buried her head into your shoulder. She continues to sob, and you just hold her, stroking her back and rocking her back and forth. You hate seeing her so upset.

“You s-said you felt safe around me…and now I’ve hurt you badly…there was so much blood coming from the back of your head. And you wouldn’t wake up…” She has calmed down a bit, but tears are still in her eyes.

“Wanda, I do feel safe around you. This doesn’t change a single thing. You didn’t do this on purpose, it was an accident. Plus it was my fault. I didn’t check my corners and ran out blind without looking.” You give her a small smile, putting your hand on her cheek.

She looks at you, unconvinced, so you continue. “Plus, look! I’m fine, see! I’m right here. Right here with you. You are still my little witch, and my little witch has never hurt me.”

You grab her wrists gently, which she is opposed to, but accepts. You kiss her palms, showing that you are not afraid of her, nor her powers. You knew how much she hated herself sometimes. You didn’t want this to add to that. You adored her.

“You could never truly hurt me. Not now, not ever. And you never will.” You speak softly to her, seeming to make her feel better as she looks up with you with so much love in her eyes.

She finally speaks again, “I love you Detka…more than you will ever know. I just want to protect you, and make you feel safe.” She says, still regretful of what she has done, but is feeling better from your words.

“You do!” You give her a big smile as you hold her hands in yours, “You could say you’re like…my guardian witch!” You cheerfully say to her, earning a small laugh out of her. Music to your ears.

“What do you say we watch some of your favorite sitcoms?” You suggest, knowing she can’t say no to that idea.

She smiles, taking your hand into hers. You wrap your arm around her as you put on some of her favorite sitcoms, spending the entire day together watching them.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda x y/n #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff fanfiction

[theonceandfuturequeenoftarts]

Prompt-ober 2023: Captivity and napping together

The terrified screams of small children were never the sign of a good start to the day, Ron thought to himself. But then again, he couldn’t blame them. The blood-soaked muzzle and paws of the albino tiger looming through the enclosure’s viewing glass were the stuff of nightmares.

The half-flayed corpse of Lucius the white peacock hanging from the tiger’s mouth didn’t help matters.

(Good riddance to that pretentious jerk of a bird, Ron thought.)

He sighed and started herding the children away, making insincere comforting sounds and quietly radioing for assistance.

Voldemort had claimed another victim.

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“Ooo, my sweet kitty baby, don’t worry, I’m not mad at you~” Voldemort’s dedicated keeper, Bellatrix, crooned at the albino tiger as she pressed against the thick glass barrier chest-first. Voldemort flicked his tail disinterestedly and continued ignoring the chaos he had caused.

If Hermione were asked, she’d say the tiger looked particularly self-satisfied. Perhaps even a little smug. She couldn’t blame him – she’d never really liked that peacock, either.

“Have we figured out how the other animals are getting in?” she asked.

Ron shook his head with a flummoxed look. “No. And there’s no sign of Voldemort getting out and snatching them. It’s like they’re drawn in – like black magic. They just wander in to get eaten.”

“Let’s keep the supernatural out of it, Mr. Weasley,” Minerva McGonagall, the senior big cat keeper, said. “We’ll simply have to check all around the outside of the enclosure for any potential points of ingress again.”

“Might I suggest we remove the common denominator in all of these incidents?” Albus Dumbledore said, adding, “We need to think of the greater good, after all.” 

“Director Dumbledore, may I remind you our purpose is conservation, not euthanization – especially of critically endangered species,” Minerva said exasperatedly. The man had had a chip on his shoulder for that tiger ever since its behaviour began to directly contradict his years of research with other tigers.

“You even think of touching my Lord and you’ll wish you died like that glorified chicken did,” Bellatrix growled, glaring blackly at the ageing researcher.

Hermione might not like the other woman, but she could still admit that sometimes Bellatrix had the right of things. With the threat – not calling the tiger her Lord. That was weird. 

She joined the others in side-eyeing the director as he left in a huff.

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Ginny had to admit, this wasn’t what she’d hoped to be doing when she applied to be a zookeeper. But at least she was still working at the zoo; and maybe they’d promote her from being a guide. …Eventually.

“Hey, isn’t that a cat?” one of the kids shouted, pointing into the tiger enclosure.

She sighed internally before pasting on a plastic smile. “Yes, tigers are a species of cat–“

The kid interrupted, saying, “No, I mean the black cat.”

What.

She turned slowly, hoping against hope she wasn’t going to find that Voldemort had somehow become a panther. But no. There, sitting in the centre of the tiger habitat, licking itself, was a longhaired black house cat.

They were going to have another scandal on their hands from impressionable children seeing a cat ripped to shreds by their mass-murdering tiger, weren’t they?

And speak of the devil: Voldemort materialised from the dense vegetation to spring at the unsuspecting cat.

Unable to look away, Ginny stared in horror as Voldemort got closer, closer, and was upon the cat, which finally decided to move. The black cat bounced away from the massive predator before turning to face him, back arched and tail fur standing on end, hissing and spitting. Voldemort growled in response, crouching down, prepared to attack.

In a bout of suicidal confidence, the black cat smacked Voldemort on the nose with its paw and continued to hold its ground, puffing up and staring the hulking tiger down.

And unexpectedly – miraculously – Voldemort relented. He rumbled and play-swatted at the cat, which rolled onto its back and enthusiastically batted at the paw that was almost larger than its entire body. Voldemort watched on in bemusement, occasionally shoving the black cat over to rile it up.

Her jaw must have been brushing the ground from how far it had fallen open. The children were shrieking in amusement while their chaperones looked worriedly between the two cats and their guide, but she couldn’t manage to pull herself together for several moments.

Speaking into her radio, Ginny said, “Uh. I’m gonna need someone to come down to the tiger enclosure. We’ve got a situation…”

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“How did that ickle bitty kitty get in there?!” Bellatrix pouted. No one should be closer to her Lord than her.

“How do any of the animals get in there?” Hermione asked rhetorically.

“I’m telling you, that tiger is secretly a wizard–”

“Ronald, do shut up.”

“Perhaps now is the time to discuss–” Dumbledore began.

“For the last time, Albus, we’re not killing Voldemort!” Minerva shouted. “Go bother Gellert and his arachnids if you’re not going to contribute anything helpful.”

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No one could get close enough to the black cat to retrieve it or lure it out, and no one wanted to go through the bother of sedating Voldemort if they didn’t absolutely have to, so the cat – dubbed Harry for the odd, tufted texture of his fur – became a permanent resident.

Each member of the zoo's staff celebrated when the mortality rate of the other animals dipped sharply after Harry's arrival. The little black cat was seen as a hero, despite no one understanding how his presence managed to convince the rest of the zoo's animals to stop visiting Voldemort’s territory and dying messily.

From then on, every so often, Voldemort would be found lying out in the open, staring down any observers, as Harry curled up in the curve of the tiger’s body and napped.

#zoo au #harry potter #voldemort #tomarrymort #they're animals #literally #posting prompt-ober stuff in lieu of writing #cw: blood #rip in rest lucius the white peacock

[peachesofteal]

cool cool cool cool cool I am feeling totally normally after seeing your response to my ask and totally am not chewing on the wheel wells of my car

would you go more into detail about our silly little fae?? and would you mind if I maybe had the time to write up a lil ficlet for Soap one day??? 😗

Don't eat your car, it's tough on your teeth. 🩵 I hear human hearts make better meals... But seriously, in response to your second question, I would not mind if you wrote a little ficlet for Fae!Soap, but please tag me in it so I can read it!

For the first question (Thank you for indulging me and my insane little worlds) :

Johnny, Kyle and Price are all in the mortal world because of Simon. Because Simon is the most powerful of the lot, even though Price is the oldest (only by a couple hundred years) they all yield to his demands, if he makes them. Which he doesn't, he simply asks and because they're all practically brothers, friends for nearly their whole lives, they're happy to oblige. Besides, the mortal world can filled with fun, if you know where to look. The reason why Price isn't in the pub that night with the other three is because he's found his own trouble to get into. (And it's not a Nereid. There are other creatures that lurk in the mortal world, too.)

Simon had been disappearing for decades before they finally caught on to what was happening. He kept it incredibly close to his chest, unwilling to share his secret, his desperation for his Nereid, until it all came to a head one day, in the thick of war, and he had to leave. It was Price that followed him, confronted him on the beach where he was standing, staring silently at the waves, hours after you had slipped back beneath the water to go home. (They don’t really talk about it now but Simon would get crazy depressed every year after your hunt, sulking in the shadows of his home with the doors locked.)

Speaking of war: Faerie is massive. It's more expansive than the mortal realm, existing in a pocket of magic that is difficult to travel to unless you know the way. It has different climates, topography, geography. I envision it as like... "modernized mythology", no cars because they all use magic to travel, they have magical weapons, etc. No giant cities like the ones in the mortal realm because they just don't care for them. They're not interested in one-upping one another like lunatic mortals, they're interested in bloodsport and power. All the residents are (mostly) Fae. Full of magic that differs from one to next, millennia old bloodlines all battling for power from one century to the next. When you live forever, and you can take life with the snap of your finger, full scale war quickly becomes the answer to most questions. Gaz is actually born of one of these bloodlines, royal blood and proper titles, pomp, circumstance and all, but he shuns it. Chooses the life of a solider with his friends over a throne and a crown. Simon is from a similar bloodline, but one with a dark history, centuries of cyclical abuse that he's determined not to repeat with his own children. Price is from a very large, very well known family in a Northern Region, and is like the founder of their group. He acts as the voice of reason for all of them when their heads grow too hot. Johnny is from an Isle that holds it's own secrets...

They look different in their realm. They glamour themselves in the mortal world, hiding their ears and eye color, dulling their features as to not stand out. At home, they drop it to be themselves, pointed ears and razor sharp face lines, power oozing from every pore, their connection with the magic changing their eye color to reflect how they’re feeling emotionally. And their noses… they can smell everything. Simon can smell you miles away, can pick up on a change in your sweat, can smell the scent of your hair even if you’re on the other side of the house.

They are Fae, so let's not pretend they're particularly sweet. Certainly, they can be, and would be... to whomever they fall in love with but they're also known to be brutal, effective killers, vicious and murderous creatures who care little for the blood they spill. They’re known as the 141 in both realms, and they possess limitless potential for cruelty. Simon is feared across Faerie, just his name enough to send infantry lines of lesser soldiers running. He’s only sweet for you, protective and possessive of his huntress to a fault.

#peaches writes #simon riley #simon riley x reader #cod x reader #magic!au #mermaids #simon ghost riley x reader #don't mind me just talking about my characters like they're real apparently #fae!au #fae!simon #simon ghost riley #fae!gaz #please don't encourage me or I won't stop writing these fuckers #simon riley x female reader #mermaid!reader #peaches asks #john soap mactavish #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick