#not sure who came up with it but maybe wishing-stones?

[imtrashraccoon]

here’s a drabble idea!

Nightmare sans x dog monster! reader

so the premise is that the dear reader is a dog like doggo, greater dog, lesser dog, etc

and if we want to get REAL specific the dog breed reader is a konoki dog!

Hi! Thank you for submitting this idea!

I was shocked how quickly I managed to think of something for this prompt. I hope you don't mind that I made it a fantasy and soulmate au. I actually haven't written this sort of thing before and I am still buzzing with ideas.

I never heard of a Konoki dog before this and they look super cute! I haven't written this type of character before so I hope you like them. I certainly have fallen in love with them! (I affectionately call them Koko in my notes!)

By the way, I renamed Nightmare (and a few others!) for this to make him a more unique character. There's a note at the bottom for the meanings of their names too.

The Dark Fortress

Nightmare x Kokoni!Dog Monster Reader

Fantasy & Soulmate AU

Word Count: 6, 219

You woke up to the sound of rain softly pattering on your tent. The light was rather dim so you estimated the sun wasn't up just yet. Still, it couldn't hurt to get up and do some quick exercises before your day properly started.

The rain made the air smell good - slightly earthy with a hint of the harsher scent of ozone. The only bad thing was that you didn't like having wet fur, especially when on a mission, since it stuck to your armour and meant your weapon was harder to hang onto.

The scent in the air reminded you of a reoccurring dream that you'd been having your whole life. While the circumstances were different each time, there was always a distinctive smell present. It was earthy and sweet with aromatic undertones similar to liquorice or fennel. It was also slightly spicy or maybe salty was a better description? This smell seemed to belong to someone but you'd never been able to see what they looked like.

Not everyone believed in the concept of soulmates but you couldn't find any other explanation for why you kept dreaming about this one smell. There were instances where a few dogs had been plagued by a particular smell and then ended up finding their soulmate, but this was always in real life and never only in a dream.

With a sigh, you meticulously fastened the straps and buckles that held your armour together. While many of your fellow soldiers preferred full plate, you liked the mobility that light armour provided. This combined with your smaller size and slight frame made you the perfect scout or assassin for the Royal Guard.

You didn't have time this morning to contemplate the possibility of meeting your soulmate. You had a duty to perform and any distractions could put the lives of both you and your comrades in danger.

Your mission was to investigate the dark fortress that had appeared overnight a few months ago in the neighboring Kingdom of Shiftingtails. The kingdom's forces had apparently been completely overrun and destroyed in a matter of days. Word on the conditions inside the country had been scarce but the handful of refugees that had made it out all told harrowing tales of their escape.

Whatever magic that had created the fortress was dangerous. It corrupted the land, killing both plants and animals alike, so that nothing could survive. It was said that it could kill people as well but no one knew exactly how. There were also accounts of the dark horde and their master but no one could decide on what they looked like.

Some claimed that an army of the dead suddenly came to life and raided their homes. Others claimed there were only three skeletons responsible for the destruction. Yet there were other accounts of a single skeleton covered in the dark fortress' corruption with black tendrils. No one wanted to talk about this one any more than they had to though.

You hadn't known what to make of the accounts at first, but the deeper you and your comrades pressed into enemy territory, the more truth they seemed to hold. Thankfully, the Royal Scientist had found a way to counteract the majority of the corruption's effects, so as long as the protective coating on your armour remained intact, you would be safe.

It didn't ease your anxiety though and you knew that your comrades were also suffering from restlessness. It had been days since you had even been in combat, even longer since killing anything, and you just wanted to get this over with.

You weren't particularly bloodthirsty but even you had to admit that you secretly enjoyed the rush that came whenever a person died by your hand. It wasn't something that you went out of your way to do, even though being a soldier often put you in those situations. Everyone knew that while sometimes unavoidable, gaining EXP and especially LV, was a slippery slope to insanity. And so during basic training, it was stressed that it was preferable to incapacitate your foes and only kill as a last resort.

You emerged from your tent and stretched your limbs. It seemed like a few of your fellow soldiers were already up and about, which meant another day of marching was upon you. At least you were within sight of the dark fortress now. It wouldn't be long before you would be able to hear the satisfying sound of your meteor hammer crushing bones and inhale the scent of fresh blood again.

~ ~ /⁠ᐠ⁠｡⁠ꞈ⁠｡⁠ᐟ⁠\ ~ ~

Breaching the gate had been difficult but not impossible.

There had been a small horde of tall black skeletons but against the heavily armoured likes of your fellow guardsmen, they were soon cut down. While the skeletons had also been heavily armoured and wielded greataxes, a well placed blow was pretty much all it took to fell them. Even you managed to take one down, although its body didn't turn to dust and simply faded away, and you didn't even get any EXP from it.

That was strange but not unusual if they were merely summons and not actual monsters. Still, whoever summoned them must have an immense mana pool, especially if they were also the one who'd created the dark fortress in the first place.

The moment you and your fellow soldiers entered the courtyard, you were suddenly set upon by three assailants. They were fast, and with how easily they could dodge attacks or appear behind you, must have some form of instant teleportation ability.

You were forced to fight back to back with Sir Draco, which meant your ranged attacks were less effective since you had to be mindful of your meteor hammer's arc. Your own mana was limited so you were forced to fend off blows with your trusty dagger, which you normally only used for finishing off your enemies.

The three skeletons looked similar, like they could be cousins, but at the same time they were quite different from each other. They were on a whole other level from the dark hordes earlier and you were starting to worry that this could soon turn hairy.

Greater and Lesser Dog were currently taking on a giant of skeleton who had half his skull caved in, a blood red eyelight in his left socket, and wielded a massive, wicked-looking greataxe. He wore a suit of mismatched armour of various materials and styles that had been pieced together seemingly at random. It looked to be mostly plate and hide armour though.

Captain Undyne and Sir Bunbun were holding off a wiry skeleton, who had what looked like corruption pouring out of his eye sockets, a crimson glowing target floating above his chest, and wielded nothing but a cruel dagger as well as his own magic against them. He wore a form-fitting suit of black leather armour that was reminiscent of what the former Shiftingtails Kingdom's scouts used to wear.

You and Sir Draco were focusing on a shorter skeleton who was constantly switching between bone attacks and trying to stab both of you with a well-polished shortsword. He had red eyelights but the left one also had a ring of blue and he wore a red cuirass with a hood and dusty chainmail over top.

"Fall back!" You heard Captain Undyne shout. "We can't let them separate us!"

You and your comrades began shifting towards the gate in an attempt to keep them from attacking your flanks. Although, you'd only taken a few steps when your nose caught a particularly familiar scent. It was sharp, earthy and yet sweet at the same time - the exact scent from your dreams. But where was it coming from?

You noticed a flicker of red out of the corner of your eye and just managed to dodge yet another strike from the hooded skeleton. He scowled and you bared your teeth in response before he darted out of your reach again. He smelled like smoke and death so it certainly wasn't him.

"Come on, pup. If we don't move now, they'll cut us off from the others," Sir Draco rumbled as he blocked another volley of bone bullets with his shield.

You sniffed the air intently, barely hearing what he'd said. That scent...they were here somewhere... Your soulmate was here!

Without really thinking, you darted off in the direction that you were certain the scent was coming from, disregarding the fact that you were also running away from your comrades. You just managed to dodge a bone bullet the hooded skeleton summoned, although it did graze your side. You could hear Undyne shouting at you to return but you didn't listen and kept running. It seemed like no one was actually chasing after you but you could still hear the clash of weapons at the gate, so maybe your comrades had kept them occupied?

The scent was coming from further inside the fortress and only grew stronger the further you ventured, until you managed to slip into a dark building and close the door behind you.

Your paws were great at muffling your footsteps and thanks to your nose, you knew that you were close to the source of the scent. You stepped cautiously around furniture and through passageways until you entered the largest library you'd ever seen.

There was light here, from various lanterns and candles peppered throughout the room, which you were grateful for since you couldn't really see in the dark, although you couldn't help but feel uneasy. You slipped between bookshelves and your ears twitched as you strained to hear the slightest sound. Other than the clinking of the length of chain in your paws and that of your own armour, everything seemed quiet.

Too quiet.

The scent was everywhere and you were starting to have a hard time pinpointing which direction to keep moving in. The fur on the back of your neck suddenly stood on end and you quickly turned, only to come face to face with another skeleton.

He was covered in corruption and four tendrils undulated restlessly behind his back. He wore no armour but underneath the black ooze he seemed to be wearing fancy clothing. He had a gold circlet on his skull and a single cyan eyelight in his left eye socket, as his right was covered by the ooze.

You had barely registered his appearance when he lashed out with his tentacles, slamming you against a nearby bookshelf. You let out a yelp from the impact and heard your meteor hammer clatter to the ground as you lost your grip on the chain.

"Who let a mutt into my home?" the skeleton hissed.

You squirmed but your attempts to escape only caused his tendrils to coil tighter around your body, until it was difficult to breathe.

He drew closer until you were only a few inches apart and narrowed his good eye socket at you. "Are you even a soldier?"

Your eyes widened as it occurred to you that the smell that had haunted you for years was from him. He was your soulmate. Him...the one who'd overthrown an entire country singlehandedly was your one and only.

You pawed at the tendrils around your body. "You're... You're the one..." you managed to gasp.

His smile widened and he let out an amused chuckle. "I'm what? I assure you that whatever you're about to say, I've heard it all before." He let out a sigh and loosened the grasp his tentacles had on you ever so slightly. "But I suppose I can humour you a little bit..."

You couldn't help but cough the moment you could breath properly again. After taking in several lungfuls of air, you looked up at him before trying to explain.

"You're the one I've been dreaming about all my life. My soulmate..."

He stared at you for what felt like an eternity but in reality was probably only a minute. He raised his bonebrows slightly but otherwise showed no further reaction to this revelation.

"Well... That's actually a new one." He chuckled and stepped back a bit but noticeably didn't let go of you. "My apologies, it seems I underestimated you slightly. You're amusing at the very least..."

You huffed and crossed your arms. "I'm serious! I've been looking for so long and now I've actually found you."

He rolled his eyelight before giving you an odd look. "I don't believe you. I don't have a soulmate," he muttered.

"Of course you do! I wouldn't have sought you out if we weren't meant to be together!"

"It's not possible, alright?"

"But-"

His tendrils suddenly constricted once more, although your ability to breath wasn't as impeded this time. You couldn't possibly break out of his hold now and you were all but forced to stay still.

"I mean it," he growled. "Now, I'm going to ask you some questions and you're going to tell me the truth, understand?"

"Yeah, okay. Just, not so tight please?"

He pointedly ignored your request as if you hadn't said anything at all. "Why are you actually here?"

"My comrades and I were ordered to investigate this place and if possible, take down the source of the corruption. Although, it seems that's you, isn't it?"

"Yes, I am. My name is Lord Donovan, the new ruler of this land." There was a twinge of pride in his voice and he puffed out his ribcage slightly. "Where are your comrades?"

You didn't like how ominous his tone sounded but there was no reason to lie to him. "They're probably still fighting your men at the gate, at least they were before I caught your scent and sought you out."

He gave you an incredulous look. "You broke rank on the off chance that I was your so called soulmate? What a foolish thing to do, almost as foolish as coming here in the first place."

You wrinkled your nose and let out a frustrated huff. "You are my soulmate!" you growled. "How many times do I have to tell you that before it gets through your thick skull?!"

He abruptly yanked you closer until your foreheads were nearly touching, but so that he was leering down at you. "Listen well, mutt. I am not your soulmate. I am an entity of pure hatred and spite. I am incapable of love or any remotely positive feeling for that matter."

"S-surely there's a way to find out?" you whimpered.

He sighed and ran his hand over his face. "Yes, there is a divination ritual that can be performed, but such a thing takes time, something you don't have right now."

You squirmed in his grip. "I don't need some fancy ritual to prove that you're wrong. If you just, let me go for a moment, I'll show you."

He eyed you warily before taking a glance around the library. "Fine, but don't try anything. I would prefer if you didn't ruin any of these tomes with your useless dust."

You gave him a curt nod, although the casual threat wasn't lost on you. "Same goes for you."

He released his tendrils, dropping you unceremoniously to the ground but you managed to land your feet. After straightening your armour and retrieving the weapon you'd dropped earlier, you turned back to him again.

Lord Donovan stood with arms crossed and a critical expression on his face. "I'm surprised that you would risk turning your back on an enemy," he commented.

You chuckled, "Well, you just said that you didn't want to ruin these books."

He narrowed his eye socket. "I could've lied..."

You snorted but chose not to needle him further. Instead, you took a deep breath and closed your eyes before pressing a paw against your chestplate.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm baring my soul to you. What does it look like?" you retorted.

You could feel him judging you but he made no move to interrupt. "You're a fool," he finally stated.

You ignored him and drew your soul out, letting the upside down white heart float lazily in your palm. It wasn't perfect like it had once been but the faint cracks spoke of the many battles you'd survived to get to this point. You could even see your stats, which was only further proof of your strength and the deeds you'd committed for it.

When you met his gaze again, you noticed that he looked a bit uncomfortable. His permanent grin had fallen and he was doing his best not to look at your soul directly. He actually reminded you a little of a bashful child at the moment.

"How does this," he vaguely gestured at you, "actually prove anything?"

You had to grit your teeth to keep from laughing at him. Had he never been taught how these things worked? Even an eight year old could understand the significance of baring your soul to your fated.

"The frequency of our souls are the same and that means we are soulmates," you responded.

He scoffed at that. "I'm not showing you my soul."

"Come on... If you'll just do this one thing, you'll know that I'm right!"

He frowned and shook his skull.

"Please, I'm not trying to trick you..." When he made no move to respond, you sighed and held out your paws. "I understand that you don't trust me; I probably wouldn't either if I was in your position. You can hold my hands if you want, I promise I won't hurt you."

He eyed them for a moment. "Fine...but on one condition..."

You nodded vigorously, "Of course!"

"If you really want to see my soul, then I can't have you leave, at least not alive... Are you actually willing to give up everything, including your friends and family, on something as improbable as being soulmates?"

"With all due respect, I am a soldier. I live each day as if it were my last, as does my family. When I was ordered to come here, I did so knowing that I likely wouldn't return and if this is the price I must pay to find my soulmate, then I am willing."

He seemed to consider your words for a moment before meeting your eyes again. His cyan eyelight flickered for a moment before a new look crossed his face. It almost seemed like one of respect but you couldn't entirely be sure.

"Very well then, if you're certain you won't live to regret it."

He hesitated for a moment but when you didn't pull away, he stepped closer and coiled two of his tendrils around your wrists. His grip was firm but surprisingly gentle and he lifted your paws over your head, so there was no way for you to attack him. In this position, your height discrepancy was much more obvious and you felt rather small next to him.

You felt completely exposed like this, even though you were still wearing your armour. Having your soul floating freely with no way to shield it from anyone else's eyes was honestly a little terrifying. He could strike you down in an instant and there wouldn't be anything you could do about it.

Lord Donovan brought his hand to his ribcage, mimicking the gesture you had made earlier. He focused for a second before pulling his own soul from his body. It wasn't shaped anything like you'd expected, instead it was more oblong than heart-shaped, much like the cross section of an apple. It was jet black with a cyan flare around the edges and seemed like it too was coated in corruption like the rest of his body.

You couldn't help but find his soul oddly beautiful but you kept your comments to yourself for a moment. Instead, you watched him calmly for what he'd do next.

He seemed to be contemplating something before gingerly bringing his soul closer to your own. You were thankful that he didn't let them touch, instead holding it a few inches away.

You waited with baited breath.

At first, your souls simply floated there, slowly thrumming with latent mana.

Suddenly you felt an intense pulse pass through your soul.

It was unlike anything you'd ever felt before, although slightly similar to the high that you'd experienced a few times when your LV increased, except way better. There was a rush of power but also a strong euphoric feeling that made all your uneasiness ebb away.

Donovan seemed utterly stunned. His cyan eyelight had shrunk down at least two sizes and he stood stock still like a statue.

"You felt that?" you whispered, although you couldn't keep yourself from grinning like a maniac.

He seemed completely at a loss for words and it took him a moment to even register that you'd asked a question at all. "I... Yes...I felt that..."

"Do you believe me now?"

"You were right about the frequency being the same..." He finally tore his gaze away from your souls and gave you an intense look. "You can't leave me."

You chuckled and tried to move your arms, only to remember that he still had you restrained. "A deal's a deal. I saw your soul and we're soulmates now; seems fair to me."

"Indeed..." he murmured, before guiding his soul back into his ribcage. You noticed that he hesitated to do the same for you.

You chuckled softly at his apparent awkwardness. "I can do it myself if you'd rather not, you'll just have to let me go first."

"No, it's fine..." He took great care not to graze your soul with his claws as he returned it to it's proper place in your chest. His movements were rather stiff though, almost like he was handling fine china and was afraid of smashing it.

His hand lingered for a moment, as if he was debating if he should actually touch you or not, before pulling away. "Forgive me...but this is a lot to take in at the moment. I never thought-" He cut himself off and changed the subject. "I never even asked for your name..."

You smiled and told him your name as his tendrils around your arms loosened, allowing you to lower them back to your sides, but not actually letting go just yet. The tips wound softly through your fingers like they were curious or maybe they just wanted to hold you like a lover might.

"I suppose there is still the matter of your former comrades." He looked off in the direction you thought the gate was in before asking a question. "How would you prefer I deal with them?"

You felt your heartbeat quicken. "I'd prefer they leave with their lives, but knowing Captain Undyne, she wouldn't give up until every one of her men got out safely."

"That poses a problem," he hummed and tapped his mandible thoughtfully. "As my own won't quit until they eliminate all resistance."

Your eyes widened in surprise. "Maybe I could talk to my comrades and convince them to leave?"

"No." His expression darkened and he turned back to you. "They won't leave if they see that you're alive."

"So what do we do?"

He thought for a moment before turning to leave the library, tugging you along with his tentacles. "I have an idea, come with me."

You let out a small yip as you nearly stumbled over your own hind feet while trying to follow him. He spared you a glance over his shoulder but kept quickly moving through the dark passageways. He did mercifully let go of one of your arms so you would have a bit more balance though.

He led you into a room that, from the shelves of tonics and the racks of drying herbs, reminded you of an apothecary. The various herbs and ingredients all melded together into a slightly musty smell that you weren't fond of.

Donovan pulled a specific vial down from the shelf and brought it over to the work bench. You walked over and leaned against it to see what he was doing. After adding a few ingredients and swirling it together, he turned back to you.

"I need you to trust me..." He trailed off and glanced away before muttering, "Not that I've done anything to deserve your trust so far..."

You gave him a gentle smile and stepped closer to put your paw on his arm. He inadvertently jumped at the contact but didn't pull away.

"Of course I trust you. Whatever your plan is, I'll go along with it."

His bonebrows furrowed and he lightly stroked the fur on the side of your face with his claws. "Can I have your dagger?"

"I'm surprised you even noticed I had one," you chuckled as you drew the blade from its sheath and held it out to him.

He hummed and took it from your grasp. "I think you'll find that there isn't much that escapes my attention." He eyed the sharp edge for a moment before glancing back at you. "How attached are you to this?"

You frowned slightly. Your dagger wasn't too special to the naked eye but it had served you well ever since you'd been gifted it after your first successful mission. Even though it wasn't your primary weapon, any of your comrades would recognize it as yours if they saw it.

"It's just a dagger," you answered. "It's a small sacrifice to be with you forever."

He watched you for a moment before nodding. "Very well. This will hurt, but I'm only going to do what's necessary for you to be free of them."

You felt his tendrils coil around your body, cradling and holding you in place. He caressed your face and seemed to study your eyes for a second longer. You took a steadying breath and nodded.

And then he ran you through with the dagger.

You should've found something to bite down on before agreeing to this but your scream of pain was cut off when he abruptly yanked you into a kiss. It was a rough kiss and, if he wasn't holding you in place, you might've fallen over from the forcefulness.

He pulled away quickly and pressed the vial to your lips. It had a harsh taste but you managed to get it down without choking. Almost immediately, you felt an odd warmth flood your body and your eyelids began to grow heavy.

Lord Donovan laid you down on a bed that hadn't been in the room and you wondered if he'd brought you somewhere else. You knew he'd just inflicted what would normally be a mortal wound but somehow your body wasn't falling to pieces. If it weren't for the pain and sudden exhaustion, you probably could've run a mile. Whatever was in that tonic was obviously far stronger than any healing potion you'd ever been able to afford.

Your gaze met his own and when you held eye contact, he seemed relieved. He still held your dagger but it was thoroughly coated in what you instinctively knew was your own dust so that not even the handle was spared. He then took it in two of his tendrils and snapped the blade in half, as if it were nothing but a twig and not hardened steel.

Your shocked expression must've been concerning as he frowned and moved closer to you again. He combed his claws through the fur between your ears in a comforting manner.

"I'm sorry, but this needs to be as convincing as possible if they are to leave and not return in some foolhardy attempt to rescue you."

You swallowed thickly and managed to nod.

"Rest now, I will deal with them myself. You have my word that they won't be unnecessarily harmed."

You were out before he even left the room.

~ ~ /⁠ᐠ⁠｡⁠ꞈ⁠｡⁠ᐟ⁠\ ~ ~

You awoke to the sound of several unknown voices. There was a loud voice that spoke the most and the fastest, a softer and more raspy voice that occasionally answered the first's questions, and then there was a third much deeper voice who only spoke in clipped one word answers. They immediately fell quiet as soon as they realized that you were awake.

When you risked cracking open your eyes, you came face to face with one of the skeletons from earlier, specifically the one that had corruption leaking from his eye sockets. His skull took up most of your field of view but you could just barely make out the other two skeletons near the doorway.

"well well, look who's finally awake~" he teased.

You narrowed your eyes at him. "I suppose so. Now can you back up a bit?"

He smirked but mercifully stepped away from the bed so you could sit up. Your armour had been removed at some point although you were still wearing your tunic. You would likely need new gear after Donovan stabbed you anyways, but you didn't like being in the same room as three very dangerous people while unprotected.

There was still some pain but you seemed perfectly fine otherwise. Maybe later you'd have to check where the wound had been to see how it had healed. You could feel that a bandage had been wrapped around your abdomen but that was all that seemed to have happened.

"so, word is you and the boss are thick as thieves all of the sudden..."

You glanced up at him sharply. There was no point in denying it but should you really tell them why he'd spared your life?

He chuckled and glanced over at the other two, who seemed like they could care less. "we've just been dying to meet you, haven't we?"

The large skeleton huffed and the hooded one merely rolled his eyelights.

He didn't seem phased by their lackluster enthusiasm and soon turned back to you again. "you got a name then, cutie?" he asked way too sweetly.

You raised your head and squared your shoulders before introducing yourself.

"aw, it suits you!" He grinned, although it was a tad too wide. "i suppose introductions are in order then..."

"the big guy goes by maul," he said and pointed him out to you. He bent down to whisper in your ear, "he doesn't talk much, but between you and me, it's rumoured that he used to be the headsman during the coup in the horrur kingdom."

You believed it. The way you'd seen him swing that greataxe was proof enough of his strength. You were curious how he got the head wound if he was just the executor, but you weren't about to ask.

Maul's single red eyelight observed you coolly before he nodded slightly. At least he didn't seem like he wanted to tear you apart right away.

"mr. broody goes by reven." He directed your attention to the skeleton in question before repeating what he'd done earlier. "pretty sure he still wears his old paladin armour, despite breaking his oath after his brother got dusted. he's the one responsible for the crimson stabbings, didn't you know?"

You pulled the sheets slightly closer and swallowed nervously. You remembered how afraid everyone had been during that time and how at a loss your superiors had been. The murders had gone on for years before just stopping without any conclusion being reached.

Reven narrowed his eye sockets suspiciously but he seemed to like the effect that his supposed reputation had on you.

"it's actually kinda impressive you held him off for as long as you did back there~"

Reven scowled at his loud mouthed compatriot's words and crossed his arms. You certainly didn't feel proud of yourself and if it wasn't for Sir Draco, you knew he would've overwhelmed you quickly.

Trying to distract yourself, you turned to the last unnamed skeleton in the room, who was still a bit to close for your comfort. "And who are you?" you asked.

"You can call me Dirk, or anything else you feel partial to~" He practically beamed at the revelation that you were even remotely interested in his backstory. "I used to run with some brigands and we made a decent killing for a while. Although, I was always meant for something more than that boring life so I killed them instead."

You didn't know what you had been expecting but how flippant he was about committing murder was more than a little unsettling. You really shouldn't have been so surprised though.

"Your armour doesn't belong to you, does it?" you asked carefully.

"oh yeah." He grinned before adding, "i stabbed a guy for it!"

You ran a hand down your face and sighed. "Of course, why did I think you would've done anything otherwise?"

In an effort to change the subject, you glanced at the others and asked a different question. "What happened to...my companions?"

Neither Maul nor Reven seemed interested in answering although the latter suppressed a small chuckle.

Dirk pulled a face and shook his skull. "they ran like cowards," he muttered.

You frowned. "That doesn't sound quite right. Are you sure?"

"well... the fish lady got pretty mad when the boss revealed that you were 'dead'..." He made finger quotes and chuckled. "she actually tried to fight him but he taught her a lesson real quick."

Reven chuckled as well. "she had to be hauled away by the rest of them..." he muttered under his breath.

You felt your heart drop. Donovan had promised that he wouldn't kill them, but you still couldn't help feeling concerned. What if she succumbed to her injuries before getting to safety?

"hey."

You glanced over at Dirk and immediately noticed that his permanent grin had fallen slightly.

"how do we know that you didn't just trick the boss into thinking you two are... what's it called?" he paused for emphasis before continuing, "soulmates, or some other dumb crap?"

He took a step closer to the bed and you inadvertently tried to back away from him. Seeing movement out of the corner of your eye, you noticed that the other two had seemed to take interest as well. Maul stayed by the door, although his grin widened in an unsettling way and he crossed his arms. Reven narrowed his eye sockets and took a few steps closer.

"Of course not! I wouldn't-"

Your protest was cut off when Donovan suddenly materialized on your other side. The boys paused and turned to look at him, although at first he said nothing and shot each of them a look of displeasure. Without saying a word, he wrapped your body up in a few of his tendrils and pulled you closer to him.

"If any of you so much as look at my soulmate wrong, I will not hesitate to strip your souls from your miserable bodies and torment you for eternity," he growled quietly.

You felt a shiver run down your spine but his threat seemed to have an effect on the boys. Maul glanced away and Reven seemed to visibly deflate. Dirk seemed to grow uncomfortable but outwardly didn't appear intimidated.

Donovan eyed each of them for several long seconds before he turned to you and seemed to visibly relax. He gave you what was supposed to be a comforting smile but it still looked a little scary on him.

"I didn't go for a killing blow but holding back is a little difficult for me. She'll probably just lose an eye if treated properly," he stated. His tone came across as pretty ominous but you did feel some relief that he'd at least attempted to keep his word.

"Thank you, I appreciate that you still tried."

~ ~ /⁠ᐠ⁠｡⁠ꞈ⁠｡⁠ᐟ⁠\ ~ ~

Later, once you were properly healed, Dirk approached you in the common area while you were attempting to salvage what you could from your old armour. You inadvertently tensed up but he flashed you a smile that was probably supposed to look friendly.

"so, i've been thinking," he started to say.

You raised an eyebrow. "That's worrying," you responded with an awkward laugh.

Across the room, you heard Reven snicker but he didn't bother trying to join in.

Dirk's smile grew wider. "heh... anyways, each of us has a place on the team. maul is the muscle, reven is good with both melee and ranged fighting, and i'm the assassin but i dabble in ranged attacks too. so, what do you do?"

You took a moment to think it over. You wanted to get along with them and if proving yourself a competent teammate would help, you were determined to do your best.

"Well, I'm generally a forward scout but I'm more than capable of holding my own in melee combat."

Dirk nodded, "fun! i guess we'll have to eventually come up with a nickname for you." He held out his hand and tilted his skull all the while smirking at you. "welcome to the dark fortress."

You grasped his hand and smiled. Maybe you'd like being here a lot more than you originally thought.

Notes:

A meteor hammer is kind of like a flail. It is a weapon with one or two weights attached to a length of chain. It may be impractical, but I had a distinct mental picture of MC swinging it around that I loved.

Donovan is an Irish name and means dark warrior.

Maul is actually named after the weapon of the same name (although the verb is kinda fitting too!).

Reven is short for revenant and a nod to one of the coolest characters in Star Wars (Darth Revan).

Dirk is named for a type of dagger.

Did you catch what kingdom was taken over by Donovan and his gang? I had a hard time coming up with one that made sense so Storyshift it was. In this world, each AU is its own kingdom, meaning pretty much every major AU can and probably does exist somewhere or somehow.

#raccoons drabbles #undertale #dreamtale #fantasy au #soulmate au #nightmare x reader #nightmare #reader #dog monster reader #killer sans #dust sans #horror sans #nightmare's soul shape is not original to me #not sure who came up with it but maybe wishing-stones? #i really love these characters and i have so many more ideas #maybe i'll write a follow up sometime? #i just mashed a ton of aus together so anyone can join in the story! #i would love to answer questions and go feral about this in the future! #i live for dark possessive characters now...

[the-case-book-of-fanfiction]

Sweet Like Wine

Ship: Astarion x female!human!reader/Tav

Summary: Your monthly bleed is over—just in time for you and Astarion to find yourselves with a bit of alone time. You might not be able to feed your vampire as easily, but there's another hunger for the two of you to satiate.

Word Count: 9,154 words of filth

Warnings: sexual content (18+), soft Astarion, vulnerable Astarion, slightly insecure Astarion, mention of past sexual trauma, pet names, Astarion still doesn't realize he's loved for more than his body,

18+ Warnings: vaginal sex, fingering, oral (f receiving, m receiving), touching over clothes, naked grinding, bite kink, blood kink, soft sex, creampie, aftercare, use of the words pussy, dick, cunt & cock, mentions of reader's period

Burns Like Rum (part 1) found {here}

Epilogue Blood is Rare and Sweet as Cherry Wine coming soon!

Note: Thank you for all the love on the first part! I'm glad everyone loved it! Here's the second part :)

☟ Continue below the fold ☟

Rain was coming. You had smelled it on the air for several days now, an altogether pleasant scent that reminded you of fast-flowing rivers in a pine forest, distinctly earthy and cold.

The first day you'd smelled it, so had Astarion, stopping every few seconds to sneeze and then complain about his heightened sense of smell being trigged by weather.

You had taken to sleeping in Astarion’s tent with him over the past few days, enjoying each other’s company while you waited for your period to end. He was enjoying getting fed nightly, and you were enjoying learning about him after he gave you the night of your life.

Well, enjoying was perhaps not the right word for your experience. You were glad he trusted you enough to tell you about the things Cazador had made him do. You were grateful he felt safe enough to be vulnerable with you. But your heart broke every time he told you a little more, his voice low and tired and broken, reciting his past like it was a crime he was ready to be locked up for. And, by gods, how your hatred for Cazador grew.

It wasn’t like you had ever liked the thought of Astarion’s vampiric master. Anyone who had killed this man (who you weren’t quite sure how you felt about but knew you cared for more than anyone else you’d ever known) was evil in your book. But Cazador... Cazador made devils look like saints in your eyes.

You packed up the last remnants of your camp the morning after Astarion had whispered to you about his year encased in stone, slight trembles in his body and growing more violent the longer he'd talked. You'd held him close that night, holding his hand and sliding your fingers through his hair to comfort him. But now you were brooding in the weak morning sun, contemplating which way you'd most like to kill Cazador.

Not that you would—that right was Astarion's, should he wish it. If the time came and he decided he couldn't do it alone, well, then you'd employ one of your many planned strategies to make that bastard suffer for everything he'd done to Astarion and his siblings.

You had decided last night to move on from the place you'd been camped for over a week. You'd been there too long; people had begun to stumble upon your tents, and it was only a matter of time before someone realized Astarion was a vampire or that Gale had a weapon in his chest and decided to try and kill them.

Wyll had gone scouting last night before the sun had set and had reported a town in the distance—near enough to reach before sunset, but only if you got moving as soon as dawn broke. So, you got up early, woke up your grouchy companions, and started breaking down camp. You were on the road less than an hour later.

You walked beside Astarion, both of you weighed down by your packs, your hands swinging beside each other. The backs of your hands kept brushing. You were so distracted by it and the thought that maybe, just maybe, you would take his hand the next time they brushed, that you didn't notice the others watching.

A twinge in your side made you hiss and bring your other arm to it, on the place of an old scar. The pain was a familiar, soft throb—a telling sign that the storm you'd been smelling was getting closer.

"Is your wound still alright?" Shadowheart asked you, shocking you out of your mind, and gesturing to your abdomen. The gash had healed up nicely, little more than some light, pale scarring now, but the phantom pains lingered. They struck at random and had become a cause of concern amongst the entire camp.

You nodded. "It's fine. I haven't felt anything yet. It's just...old wounds acting up."

"Let me know if you need anything," she said, which was a phrase you'd heard at least three times a day since the day you'd gotten the wound. This time, though, she sounded even more worried than normal.

You supposed she had more than enough reason to be worried—this was the first time you'd done this much moving since you'd been injured. You hadn't had to travel or hunt since then, and even your nights with Astarion between your legs kept you on your back with your calves thrown over his shoulders.

Not that Shadowheart knew that, exactly, but she had extracted a promise out of him not to let you do anything that might reopen the wound, which also meant Astarion had refused to let you take him in your mouth, afraid that such a position would be too much for you.

"I'm okay," you promised her, trying to keep the exasperation out of your voice.

You must have failed at doing so, because Astarion whispered a moment later, "She's just trying to keep you safe."

You deflated a little. "I...I know. I'm just...tired of being treated like a glass doll. I'm healed. I can handle myself."

"I know, she's just worried... We're all worried," he added, and you knew that 'we' included himself, a recent development when it came to any kind of emotion.

"I'll be okay," you promised.

"You better be," he said, finally taking your hand in his. Giddiness spread through you like wildfire. Astarion smiled at you and you got the feeling he knew you'd been dying for that to happen. "You're too cute to die on me now."

You rolled your eyes. "Well, I'll try my best."

Astarion looked at you with a fondness that had recently appeared in his eyes; it was a look you loved, one that made your entire body grow warm every time you caught him looking at you like that. You leaned into his side, letting him kiss the top of your head gently. You smiled up at him, ready to thank him for the open display of intimacy.

And then something in his eyes changed, a sparkle in the crimson. A smile twitched on his lips. For a moment, it looked like he might say something—only for his gaze to slide to the others, walking just ahead of you as if they knew to give you privacy. The sparkle to fizzled out.

"What is it?" you asked quietly.

"Walk faster, friends!" Gale called back to you. "The clouds aren't promising, that storm you've been complaining about will be upon us soon!"

"Later," Astarion said to you. "I'll tell you later."

He squeezed your hand and quickened his pace to catch up with the rest of your companions.

~❊~

Mercifully, the long day of traveling wasn't made longer—or more painful—by a fight of any kind, only by the miserable weather. Halfway through the day, the rain had begun in the form of slow, fat raindrops. By now, it was coming down fast and hard, almost painful when it hit your body, even with your many layers of clothing.

Wyll's estimation had been a little generous; the sun, though you couldn't see it, had already set by the time you got close enough to see windows in the buildings of the town, almost every one with a candle glowing on the windowsill.

"Isn't that just quaint," Astarion murmured as the muddy river of a dirt road beneath your feet slowly transitioned into cobblestones covered in at least an inch of water. "Gods, I hope this place has a good tavern."

"I hope it has an open inn," you said. "Everything hurts."

"Your wound?" he asked, frowning and automatically putting a hand on your abdomen.

You shook your head. "No—that's fine. Just my muscles are killing me from all this walking, and old injuries are acting up. It's the storm, I knew it was coming."

Lae'zel frowned. "Are you capable of sensing the weather? Why haven't you used this trick before?"

Shadowheart giggled behind her hand and got control of herself only when the gith's head snapped toward her.

You blinked. "It— I'm not actually able to do that, Lae. It's just that old wounds ache before storms. Lots of people have that. It's...kind of an old wives' tale, I guess?"

"She was right, though," Gale said, squinting up at the sky. His hood fell from his head. "The storm came when she thought it would."

Astarion sidled closer to you, smirking, and curled a hand around your waist. Under his breath, he teased, "Perhaps I...kept you awake too late last night, didn't I? Feeling a little soreness between those lovely legs?"

You rolled your eyes but leaned into his touch. "Don't you start."

The group walked further down the main thoroughfare, slowly spreading across the street, each one looking up at the signs on the buildings. Almost everything was closed: a few tailors' shops, a perfumery, an outdoor food market with empty vendor stalls.

Music drifted from one of the few open storefronts. Warm golden light spilled out onto the cobblestone street through the windows. Raucous laughter joined the jaunty sound of a bard's music. Inside, you could see tables packed with patrons, all singing in various states of drunkenness—and all safe from the storm outside.

Wyll gestured forward. "There's your tavern, Astarion."

Astarion grinned, his fangs flashing in the low light. "Who's up for a drink?"

"Maybe later," you said.

Pointedly, Wyll added, "Once we find an inn and rooms for the night. I'd rather not make camp out here in this damp."

"What, the Blade of Frontier's doesn't know how to rough it through bad weather?" Astarion teased.

"Stop taunting him and let's find an inn," you said, nudging him gently. "I just...want to go to bed, really."

"Alright," Astarion said, that sparkle back in his eyes again. "A good, long night's rest it is, then."

You moved further down the street. Karlach spotted the inn a few doors down and the group filed in through the door, just as thunder clapped overhead. You dragged Astarion into the building with you just before the rain could get worse. The clerk at the desk looked a bit annoyed to see you.

"We don't have enough rooms for all of you," they said, counting the seven of you.

Karlach pulled a face. Before she could say something accidentally indelicate, you pushed to the front of the group.

"How many rooms do you have available?"

"Just three," they said after a quick glance down at the open guestbook in front of them. "And they're not all next to each other."

You glanced back at the others.

"We could take two," Gale suggested. "Split us the old-fashioned way of ladies in one and us gents in another?"

Automatically, your gaze slid to Astarion; both of you appeared to have deflated at the idea of being separated. Wyll, of course, noticed.

"We'll take three and give the third to the lovebirds," he said, teasingly nudging his elbow into Astarion's side. "I don't think I have the heart to separate them."

"I find it agreeable," Lae'zel said with a decisive nod. She turned back to the clerk. "We'll take all three."

"It'll cost you," the clerk warned.

Astarion pulled out a money purse—no doubt stolen the last time you visited a merchant. "We can pay," he promised with that charismatic grin of his that made your stomach do flips.

He moved to the desk, sneakily grabbing your ass and squeezing as he walked by, and counted out the coins for the clerk. They counted it again and stood up only when they were satisfied.

"Come with me," they said. "I'll show you to your rooms."

~❊~

After saying goodnight to the others, escaping their teasing about keeping it down in the night for the sake of your poor neighbors, Astarion held open the door to your room to you. You got inside and glanced around; as far as rooms went, it wasn't awful. It was sparsely furnished and a tad cold, but there was a recently lit hearth and plenty of blankets on the beds. It was on the uppermost floor and you could hear the rain pounding on the roof, a brutal sound that made you agree with Wyll's earlier sentiment about staying out of the weather.

Both of you took off your soaked cloaks and hung them on the hooks next to the door to dry off. You set your stuff down on the ground, pulled the blankets off of one of the beds, and dropped them onto the other.

"Sharing a bed, are we?" Astarion asked with a little giggle, wrapping his arms around your waist and nuzzling into the back of your neck.

"Don't act like you don't want to," you said and leaned back into his chest. "I know you, Astari."

He hummed happily into your neck. You could feel the smile on his lips as he kissed the place where your neck and shoulder met. The nickname always made him happy, often bringing a pleasant blush to his cheeks after he'd fed.

If you had reached that point yet, this would have been the perfect time to say "I love you" and turn to kiss him over your shoulder. But you hadn't said it yet, and he hadn't said it, and you knew it wasn't time yet. You didn't know much, but you knew Astarion wasn't ready for that just yet.

You relaxed into his arms even more, practically melting against him. He planted soft, dainty kisses on your neck and shoulder. "What were you gonna tell me earlier? You had this look in your eye, like you were really excited."

Astarion's grin was audible in his tone as he whispered in your ear, "Your period's gone."

You frowned. "How do you know that and I don't?"

"Your scent's changing. I smelled it this morning, a weak scent of your menstrual blood, nearly gone. We've been traveling so you haven't been able to check recently, but once we got to the town I knew it was gone."

You shook your head. "Smell alone and you already know me better than I know myself."

Astarion scoffed. "Smell alone? Darling, I know your body better than anyone after this past week." His hand drifted down and slid between your legs, cupping you gently. Instantly, warmth flooded you and pooled in your cunt. "I know your shape...your taste...your smell..." He kissed your neck, pressing down on your clit through your clothes. You whimpered lightly. "I know exactly how to make you moan for me and I know what every moan means."

With every ounce of self-restraint you possessed, you grabbed his wrist to stop him. "Let's get settled in first, Astari. I need to get out of these wet clothes and I really should wash the grime and rain off me before we do anything and—" You stopped suddenly and turned in his arms, resting your hands on his biceps. "I don't have my period anymore."

Astarion blinked at you. "Why do you sound so sad? You've been in pain for the past week! Shouldn't you be glad it's gone?"

"Well, I suppose," you said, shrugging. You toyed with his collar, playing with the fabric between your fingers. "But I...I can't..." You sighed. "You can't feed from me."

His face softened. He gently took hold of your neck, brushing his thumb over the place he usually drank from. "Of course I can still feed from you... It just...takes a bigger tole on you now. Ah." He paused. "I see what you mean now."

You nodded. "It's back to being bloodless, and our fun's done."

Astarion chuckled deeply. "Oh, is that what you're sad about? No more loving little kisses between your legs from your vampire?" He wrapped his hands around your hips, squeezing them and pulling you flush to his body. "We can have a different kind of fun, my love, and it doesn't take your period to convince me to eat you out."

You heard him dimly, but didn't process anything after— "My vampire?"

Something in his face changed. A little bit of the light in his eyes seemed to fade. After a moment, he turned his face away. His body tensed in your arms. "Well, I...I thought that.... M-maybe after..."

You cupped his cheeks and turned him back to you. You kissed him softly, wanting to chase away every ounce of the self-doubt on his face. "I like the sound of that, Astarion." You brought a hand down to clasp his. "As long as I get to be yours, too."

"Darling," he murmured against your lips, seconds before kissing you again. His tongue pressed against your lips and you opened them to let him in. You wrapped your arms around his waist and he moaned softly into your mouth. His relief at your answer slowly relaxed his muscles and made his kiss incredibly tender. You returned his quiet moan with a soft, content sigh into his mouth.

When the kiss broke a few moments later, though it felt like an eternity, you immediately laid your head against Astarion's chest, hugging him tightly. He smoothed his hand over your hair, holding you close to him. He kissed the top of your head in a way that seemed almost domestic for him.

You closed your eyes, settling against his chest. The smell of him and the feel of his body against yours and his hand in your hair was enough to nearly lull you to sleep. And yet...

"I'm in wet clothes, and I'm very tired of being wet—unless it's you making me wet," you said, only half-aware of what you had said until you felt Astarion giggle into your hair.

"You're right, we should change and clean up," he said quietly, though he seemed just as reluctant as you to let go. "Then we can have our fun...and you can get all of me, like I promised you a week ago."

You hummed. "Gods, I'm looking forward to that."

"See? It's not all bad that you're not bleeding anymore," he teased, kissing your cheek.

You finally separated. Astarion dug through his pack until he found his usual shirt and pants. He closed the window's curtains and then you stripped where you stood, peeling the wet clothes off your skin. You walked over to the washroom, aware of Astarion's appreciative gaze on you, and scrubbed the dirt off your skin. You dried yourself off and Astarion joined you. It felt strange to watch your own reflection in the mirror but not see him standing next to you, even though you knew he was next to you, staring at you as he was apt to do.

You kissed his cheek and let your hand rest on his hip as you walked back toward the beds. You bent to rummage through your pack, only for his arms to circle your waist and pull you back up against his chest.

"Oh, darling, you're not going to need clothes for what I have planned," he murmured in your ear. He gently teased the shell of your ear with his teeth. You shuddered in his arms.

"Just jumping straight into it, huh?" you teased.

"I never waste time when I could be spending it with you," he breathed, letting one hand come up to cup your breast. You stumbled backward, sighing contentedly. "You like that, don't you?"

You whimpered. "More... Please darling, I..."

He chuckled and cupped both breasts in his hands. He squeezed them lightly and rested his head on your shoulder, looking down at your cleavage. "Hells, I love these tits, darling. So soft, like all your skin. So sensitive to my touch..."

Astarion began thumbing at your nipples. They perked up at his touch. He rolled them between his fingers, kissing your neck, sucking hard enough to leave marks. You whimpered under his touch.

"Does that feel good, sweet girl?" he asked, squeezing your tits a little harder. He massaged them in his hands, contentedly watching from his perch on your shoulder.

You nodded, leaning your head against his. After a moment, you asked, breathless but still forming words, "Can you suck on them?"

He moved around to the front of you, grinning happily. "Of course I can, darling." He gently sat you down on the bed's edge and kneeled before you, a beautiful sight. He spread your legs to sit between them and get as close to you as possible, glancing down at your exposed cunt as he did. "Gods, I can't wait to be inside you," he muttered, just seconds before he took one of your nipples in his mouth.

Astarion's mouth was an absolutely wonderful thing. You'd figured that out the first night and for the subsequent week that he was skilled with his lips and tongue, far more skilled than his kisses let on. His mouth around your breast was heavenly as he sucked on your nipple, lightly at first and then slowly adding pressure. You'd be lucky if your tits weren't bruised come morning. His other hand held your breast, kneading your flesh, rolling your nipple in his fingers. The coolness of the skin of his fingers was a relief against your hot skin.

He moaned as he suckled on you. He flicked his tongue over your nipple and then kissed the fat of your breast. You brought your hand up to his hair, scratching his scalp with your nails, and he moaned loudly. You whimpered as his sucking grew to be almost too much. He understood your sound and switched breasts, licking and kissing the one he'd just been groping.

You stared down at the beautiful man happily sucking on your tits: his eyes closed and his long lashes fluttering every so often, his pretty lips wrapped around your nipple, sucking your breast into the heat of his mouth. You carded your fingers through his hair, delighting in the way it curled around your fingers and around his ears.

A sudden idea had you moving your hand down to his ear. You touched it gently and he moaned loudly. You giggled and began lightly caressing his ear. His moans turned into whimpers as you neared the pointed tip. At last he popped off your breast and his head fell against your stomach.

"Oh, gods, darling," he whined. "Don't stop, don't stop, don't stop, that feels... Ohhh, that feels wonderful."

His little moan brought a rush of wetness to your core. You kept playing with his hair, hoping to draw another one of those weak whimpers out of him.

Astarion shuddered into your touch. He was panting heavily and moved shakily, but he still managed to get his hand between your legs. He slid two fingers inside of you with ease.

"Ohhh, sweet girl, you're so wet for me," he breathed. "Can I—?"

"Yes, please," you gasped, knowing instantly what he wanted to do. Your fingers left his ear and he ducked his head between your legs. He pressed a soft kiss to your clit. "More."

Astarion chuckled into your pussy. "Patience, dear." He began to suckle on your clit, the pressure alone enough to make you see stars. Then his tongue flicked over you in the way he'd learned you licked and you fell back against the bed, arching into his mouth. His hands came up to grip your hips and pull you closer to him.

He moved lower and pushed his tongue into your entrance. The two of you moaned in tandem and Astarion's fingers dug into your hip, hard enough to leave bruises come morning.

The sounds of Astarion's slurping became obscene, but you couldn't find it in you to be embarrassed. You only moaned louder as his nose bumped your clit.

Without warning, Astarion slipped his fingers back inside you. You arched into his touch, gasping as his fingers curled inside you.

"Astarion!" you groaned, grinding down on his face and fingers. He chuckled into you.

"That's it, my love, you're close," he murmured, staring into you and watching your walls clench around his fingers. "Just let go for me, you're almost there."

You moaned, writhing as he went back to sucking on your clit. His fingers found the right spot and you covered your mouth with a hand to muffle the near-scream that came out of you—a sound you had no idea you could even make.

"No, no, no," Astarion chided, fixing you with a look. "Don't you muffle those sounds. I want to hear you scream for me, darling."

You whimpered. You panted as your orgasm slowly crept up on you. Your hips stuttered and lifted off the bed—Astarion took advantage and slipped his arm underneath you, dragging you back to him and pressing his mouth back to your clit. He kissed it gingerly, occasionally flicking his tongue over it in the circles you liked so much. Sometimes it amazed you how well he remembered your body and your likes, even if you'd only told him once.

"Astari," you whined, the tight ball in your core very close to snapping.

"I've got you," he whispered. "Come on, sweet girl, it's alright. Cum for me. Cum on my face, darling. I want it. I want to taste you. That's it, that's it, that's it!"

You finished with a loud cry, your back arching, Astarion moaning into your cunt and his tongue lapping quickly to catch every drop of your release. He kept curling his fingers even as your walls tightened to the point of being difficult to move them.

Astarion leaned back, grinning up at you. His face shone; it was almost weird not to see blood on his face. He looked back down at your pussy, staring eagerly, licking your cum off of his lips. "You're so wet, darling. Gods, you'll be a tight fit, but I could slide in right now if I wanted to..."

You nodded very quickly, whimpering. "Please, Astarion, please, I want you to."

He raised an elegant brow at you. "Oh, do you, now?" You nodded, whining. "Say it, darling."

Your body twisted in a way that seemed impossible as you said, a tremendous blush on your face which you were trying to hide in the bed, "I want you to fuck me, Astarion."

He grinned toothily, his fangs shining. A deep sound that neared a growl emanated from his chest. "Again. Say it again, louder."

"Fuck me, Astari," you whined, a little louder than the first time.

Something in Astarion snapped. He pulled you back onto your feet and flush to his body, kissing you fiercely. It was almost harsh, his fangs nicking your lips. You hissed and Astarion pulled back. The desire—a mix of bloodlust and arousal—was clear in his eyes, but he paused to ask, "Are you alright? Did I hurt you?"

"I'm fine," you promised. "It's not like you haven't nicked me in more sensitive places."

"And you like it, every time," he teased, briefly kissing your forehead. He wiped away a small dot of blood on your lips with his thumb and licked it off.

You smiled at him. "What can I say, you've given me quite the biting kink."

Astarion chuckled. "Cheeky little pup," he murmured, brushing your hair out of your face. "Ready to continue?"

You nodded, unable to stop the happy grin that overtook your face at the idea of him finally taking you. A thrill ran down your spine as Astarion laid you back on the bed and crawled up to you, kissing you harshly. You were dimly aware of him pumping his cock between you.

He pulled away suddenly, glancing down his body. "Shit."

You frowned, trying to catch his eye again. "Darling? What's wrong?"

Astarion sighed. "In my...excitement, I may have forgotten a very important detail." He looked down at himself and you sat up and followed his gaze. His cock was half-hard, but not nearly enough to slide into you. You whispered a quiet "oh." In his embarrassment, Astarion refused to meet your gaze. He looked much smaller, like he'd curled up into himself. "Unimpressive, huh?"

The half-disguised anger and humiliation in his voice made your heart ache. You cupped his face, turning his face toward you. You kissed him softly. "Oh, Astarion... No, you're not. You are impressive, you're just not quite ready yet. You forget I've seen you before, fully hard after you feed."

"I think you're missing the point," he said weakly. He pulled his legs up to his chest, effectively hiding himself. "I can't fuck you like this, darling."

"You can once you've had some blood, but that's beside the point." You kissed his cheek, rubbing a hand through his hair. He leaned into your touch. "You're more than just sex, Astarion. Damn good sex, sure, but that's not all you are, no matter what anybody else—and especially your master—told you."

He turned to you, a strange look in his eyes. You took his hand, raised it to your mouth, and kissed the back of his hand. He leaned into you, resting his head on your shoulder.

"This is the second time you've had to say this, something like this, to me during sex," he said with a humorless giggle, a shadow of his usual one.

"And I'll say it as many times as you need to hear it," you promised, kissing the top of his head.

For a moment, it looked like he wanted to say something. Instead, he just blinked until the teary glaze in his eyes went away. "Thank you," he whispered, and he adjusted to kiss the spot on your neck he always drank from. He lightly scraped his teeth against your skin. "Do you want to do this?"

You hummed, leaning into his affection. "Yes, sweetheart. I want this. I want you. I want you very, very badly."

He smiled. "Lay on your side, darling. Let me lay behind you."

You did as he asked, relaxing into his hold and letting him manhandle you into the position he wanted. He pulled you flush against his body, his length pressing into you, his arm around your waist and holding you against him as if he was afraid you'd try to escape the moment he bit you. With his free hand, he brushed your hair off your neck.

"Are you ready, darling?" he whispered, dragging his teeth across the shell of your ear.

You nodded. "Mhm."

"Just relax for me," he breathed. He nuzzled into your neck and kissed the spot he was going to bite. "Right here? Your favorite spot?"

"Right there," you whispered. You put your hand over his and both of you (you weren't sure who moved first) twined your fingers together. He squeezed your hand gently before he sank his teeth into your neck.

Quiet filled the room, except for the rain on the roof, your steady breathing (only steady for now), and Astarion's sucking.

It had been just over a week since he'd fed from you this way, and the sensation was just as alien as it had been that first night you'd let him drink—two tiny shards of ice, the cold numbness spreading slowly through the surrounding area, preventing you from feeling any pain in his bite. Slowly, you acclimated to the sensation and it faded into a dull, throbbing pleasure.

He slid his free hand under your head, holding your head up and your neck steady. He gently scratched your scalp.

"Astarion," you moaned, squeezing his hand. He grunted, continuing his sucking. You focused less on the sound of it—which reminded you vaguely of sucking juice out of a dripping fruit—and more of the feeling of his body against you. "Enjoy this, sweetheart. Please, just for me."

He cuddled closer to you, humming, and you smiled as he let go of your hand to briefly squeeze your hip. Your smile widened when he took your hand in his again as quickly as he possibly could.

It didn't take long for Astarion to start getting into it. He began whimpering softly, so unrestrained you were certain he had no idea he was doing it. Slowly, his hips began rolling against you, gentle motions at first that grew more noticeable and more desperate the longer he drank.

His teeth still in your neck, Astarion began grinding his hardened length into the swell of your ass. His whimpers became moans and then animalistic grunts. He drank in time with every thrust against you and slowly you were reduced to those two sensations.

Throbbing overtook you. Your head was pounding, just slight enough for it to be ignored, and need pulsed in your cunt. You could feel your juices coating your thighs and the dull throbbing in your clit. But the rest of your body was growing pleasantly numb. Your extremities began to tingle.

Astarion's gulps slowed down and his thrusting became feral. You moaned once, very loudly, as his cock slid briefly between your legs and rubbed against your pussy. Your moan spurred him on and he adjusted to keep grinding himself on your thigh.

A few more swallows of blood was all it took for the edges of your vision to get blurry. Your eyes fluttered shut; you didn't have the strength to open them again. You could no longer feel your fingers and you were only partially aware of your hand slipping out of his. But Astarion was incredibly aware of it; he stopped drinking and twisted around you to lay in front of you to check on you.

Your head dropped to the mattress without Astarion's hand holding you up. A sudden wave of dizziness overtook you and you groaned quietly.

"Hey, hey, hey, look at me," he said, cupping your cheek. You opened your eyes. "There's my girl. How are you doing? Feel okay? Did I take too much?"

"Slow down on the questions," you said, "and hold me."

He chuckled and scooted closer, pulling you into his arms. He kissed the top of your head. "But are you okay?"

You nodded. "Give me a minute and I'll be right as rain."

He giggled. "Right as rain..."

You rolled your eyes. "What can I say, the storm's got me thinking." You tucked yourself into his arms, your lips against his chest. You kissed his skin softly. He hummed happily and you continued, nipping at his skin. Now that he'd fed, bruises started to form under your lips.

"I'm okay now," you said after a few moments. The throbbing in your head had eased up and you no longer felt like you were about to pass out.

"Not dizzy anymore?" he asked.

You shook your head. "I'm alright."

He smiled at you; gods, that smile was gorgeous. "Well, now, dear. Let me return the favor..."

You blinked at him. "Favor—? Oh!"

Astarion's mouth was back on your breasts, this time leaving hickeys all over your skin—and tiny, bloody pinpricks from his fangs—that matched the bruises you'd left on him. You whined, gripping his hair tightly.

He grinned against your skin. "Oh, darling—I know. I know you want me. Your body and I have kept you waiting long enough, haven't we?"

You put your hand on his chest. "Wait, darling. Let me..." You slid down his body and gripped his cock in your hand. He groaned loudly, bucking his hips into your hand.

"Oh, darling, that feels..." He moaned. "Gods."

"It's about to get better, if you'd like?" you asked. You kissed his thigh. "Do you want me to?"

Something in his face changed, his features softening. You fancied that you could see some of his walls come down in his eyes, but you chalked it up to your hopeful imagination. But then he was nodding and whispering, "Yes."

You kissed around his base, watching him shudder every time your lips touched his skin. You locked eyes with him and pressed your lips to his base. He whined, high and needy, throwing his head back. You smiled; you'd never heard him make that sound before, but I wanted to hear it again.

You moved up to kiss his tip. A groan came from the back of his throat. You gave his head a small lick and watched his entire body shudder with pleasure.

"Ready?" you asked him, placing another kiss to his length.

"Yes," he breathed, looking down at you. "Yes."

You licked the underside of his cock, from base to head, then took his head in your mouth and sucked lightly. He whined the entire time, growing steadily louder until he was moaning. You took him deeper and he threw his head back again, swallowing harshly. Gods, he's so pretty when he's losing control... You reached up and took his hand, squeezing gently.

He bucked his hips into your mouth. You made a soft sound of slight complaint, surprised by the motion. "S-sorry," he breathed, his chest heaving. His voice was tight, the muscles of his abdomen tight. "You just... Gods, you're good at this. You are...amazing."

You squeezed his hand until he looked down at you, your question was in your eyes: are you alright?

"Keep going," he urged. "I'm— I'm more than alright, darling."

You sank down further until he hit the back of your throat. You moaned to feel him twitch in your mouth; you weren't expecting the breathy gasp that came from him. You did it again and his hand left yours to thread through your hair, putting the slightest amount of pressure on you.

"Is this okay?" he asked shakily, struggling to get the words out through his heavy breaths.

You winked at him and he groaned, the sound feral. He held onto your hair for dear life and you kept sucking, licking the underside of his cock every chance you could. Occasionally, he bucked his hips desperately, alternating between gasping for breath and whimpering your name between moans that verged on sobs.

Astarion jerked his hips, his cock kicking up. You took advantage to swirl your tongue around his tip, tasing his pre-cum. He leaned up on his forearms and you saw the tears on his waterline. Concerned flooded through you. His face was relaxed into an expression of pure ecstasy, but...

You pulled off of him. "Astarion? Are you okay, sweetheart?"

His chest heaved, glistening with sweat, while he gasped for breath. "I— I'm okay. You're wonderful, darling, absolutely..." He beckoned you up to him with two fingers, that dominant look back in his eye. You did as he ordered without question. "Come here. As much as I love this, I need to fuck you."

You whined. "Astari, please. Please. Please, I want you."

"Look at you, begging for me," he cooed, his hand sliding between your legs. He rubbed your clit and you arched into his touch, moaning wantonly. "There she is. That's it, darling, just feel good for me."

You leaned into his chest. "Astarion! I need you. I need you to fuck me, please, gods."

Astarion chuckled and pulled his hand away from you. He gently laid you on your back and crawled over you. He kissed you deeply before sitting back and lining himself up with your entrance. Your breath caught in your throat. Anticipation and excitement mixed in your stomach.

Astarion placed the head of his cock against you and then looked up at you. His face was fond as he met your gaze. "Are you ready for me, darling?"

"Yes," you breathed. "I— Oh, gods, yes!"

"Tell me if it hurts," he whispered. He kissed your forehead briefly.

You watched him move, slowly bucking his hips forward to push his cock inside of you. His eyes fluttered closed at the feeling. You forced yourself to remember to breathe as he bottomed out, your walls stretching to accommodate him; he finally let out a deep groan from the back of his throat.

"Darling," he moaned, leaning down to you. You reached up, putting your hand in his hair, and brought his head down to you. Once again, you weren't sure who moved first, but suddenly his lips were on yours.

It was a gentle kiss that was fitting for his slow, shallow thrusts. The two of you panted into each other. He put his forehead against yours, glancing down and watching him slide in and out of you, whispering in Elvish at the sight.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders. "Astarion... Oh, gods..."

"You feel so good," he groaned. "Darling, I— Ohhh, sweet girl." He bent down to lick the small blood spots off your breasts. He moaned sweetly. "You taste even better when I'm inside you, my love. You taste sweet—like a delectable wine."

You whimpered. "I don't mean to deprive you of my blood, dear, but please please kiss me."

He chuckled and kissed his way up your neck, stopping briefly to lick your already-closing puncture wounds, before he kissed your lips. His mouth tasted vaguely of iron.

Your walls tightened around him. He was rubbing inside of you in just the right ways, hitting pleasure spots that his fingers had already made tender. His thrusts were still gentle, not enough to make you see stars but enough to make your entire body relax and give in to the pleasure.

"You're wonderful, darling," he murmured. He reached up to roll your nipple in his fingers. "You feel so perfect around me. So tight...so wet...so eager... Gods, darling, yes, just clench around me like that."

You threw your head back and he immediately descended on it, kissing and licking and nipping at your skin. You could feel the bruises that you would find in the morning.

"Faster," you told him. "I can take more than this, Astari."

He grinned and you were moaning seconds later as he sped up, his hips snapping into you.

"Can you take it harder? Deeper?" he asked. "You have no idea how hard it is not to ravish you, darling."

You cupped his chin and brought him back up to your face. You kissed him hard, more tongues and teeth than anything. You met his gaze and whispered, "Then ravish me."

Astarion pushed his lips back to yours, grunting animalistically, and slammed his cock into you. You cried out, clinging to him desperately as he fucked you relentlessly, his hips snapping against yours, his pelvis grinding against your clit with every thrust. The head of his cock kissed your cervix every time, making your entire body shudder. You began meeting his thrusts and he chuckled, one hand gripping your hip to help keep you up.

You threw your legs around his hips and both of you groaned at the new angle. Astarion muttered to himself in Elvish, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. You kissed him, bringing him back to you. He smiled, kissing your forehead.

"Aren't you gorgeous?" he whispered to you, staring deep into your eyes. There was an alertness there that you hadn't noticed the first time he'd fucked you like this, out in the woods that night.

You reached up to cup his cheek. "You're quite handsome like this, Astarion," you murmured. "You always are."

He smiled softly at you and turned to kiss your palm, his hips stuttering for a moment. He grunted and pushed deeper into you, making you cry out again. He glanced down your bodies and watched the two of you thrust into each other.

"Gods, that's a pretty view," he murmured, his voice breathy. "Your slick shining on my dick...and, oh, look at that... The outline of my cock in your tummy. Gods, that's hot." He placed his hand on your lower abdomen where the bulge was and he pressed down. You whined, clenching your teeth and trying not to scream. He, of course, noticed. "Oh, that feels good, does it?"

You whimpered out a weak, "Yes!" He grinned and began pressing down on every stroke into you.

You gripped his shoulder, your nails digging in; you knew there would be scratches on his back and shoulders come morning and you were careful to avoid his scar, knowing just how painful that would be if scratched.

He kept losing his rhythm every so often and you knew he was getting close; thankfully, so were you.

"I'm close," you whispered. "I'm so close, darling."

On the next thrust in, he adjusted the hand pushing down on your abdomen so that his thumb could circle around your clit. "Does this help?"

You whined, nodding frantically. "Oh, Astari— Don't stop, please don't stop, I—" Your words faded into moans. He giggled.

"Don't worry, darling, I don't intend on stopping until you've finished around my cock," he whispered in your ear. Your entire body shuddered.

Astarion's thrusts grew a bit sloppier, but his thumb on your clit remained dedicated to making you cum. You were half-convinced the way he spoke as he gazed down at you adoringly would be enough even without the cock thrusting into you or the thumb stimulating you.

"Gods, look at you," he murmured. "Look at that body, responding to me so eagerly! Those beautiful breasts, perky nipples, all covered in my bite marks... That lovely neck, marked and still just barely bleeding..." He bent to lick the thin trail of blood. "These legs, wrapped around my waist, and that pussy just sucking me in." He brushed your hair out of your eyes. "And I could never forget this darling face, those beautiful eyes just staring up at me like I hung the moon and stars..." He pressed his forehead to yours. Softly, he said, "Come on, darling, cum for me. Cum on my cock. Let me feel you clench around me and lose yourself in me."

The thread inside you snapped. You arched off the bed and into his body. He wrapped his arm around you, holding you to him, whispering words of encouragement. You screamed as you came, clenching so hard around him it was a miracle he kept fucking you through it. He pulled his hand off your clit as soon as the feeling became too much, reading your body with ease.

"That's it," he whispered to you. "That's my girl. Easy, darling, breathe. You did so well. Do you mind if I—" He groaned, hips faltering for a moment. "Do you mind if I cum inside you?"

You whined. "Oh, gods, yes, please do! Cum inside me, Astarion, cum inside me, I want it!"

He moaned happily, kissing your neck fervently. He began rambling. "Hells, darling, you spoil me. Feeding me with your bleeding cunt for a week? Taking my cum the moment it's over? You needy, heavenly little thing." He kissed his way up to your jaw. You put your fingers in his hair. "Oh, you're so wet now, sweet girl. You've soaked me. You look so pretty around me. Oh, gods, you're so much tighter now— I'm not going to last much longer, dear. You're good, you're too good. My love, oh my love!" He lost his rhythm entirely, fucking you only with the need to cum. "I love this. I love every bit of this. I love—"

He cut himself off. He cried out, burying his face in your neck and his cock in your cunt. Warmth flooded you as he spilled himself deep inside you. His hips stuttered and flexed a few more times, his cock twitching inside you, before he finally let out a long breath and collapsed on top of you. Immediately, your arms wrapped around him and you held him tight to your chest.

As the two of you lay panting together, your mind was working on overdrive. He hadn't said it, but you'd heard what he wanted to say: I love you. The very same words you were dying to say.

At last, Astarion lifted his head. "Are you alright?" he asked. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

You combed your fingers through his hair. His eyes fluttered. "Not one bit, darling. I'm perfectly fine." You kissed his nose and he giggled. You stared at him, your beautiful boy, for a moment, enjoying the feelign of his body actually being warm against yours for once, before you asked, "What about you? Are you feeling alright? Good, even?"

Astarion giggled. "Don't sell yourself short, my love, you're absolutely wonderful. I feel amazing. Content. Cared for. Loved." With every word, his voice got smaller, quieter. He seemed to retract into himself. You frowned.

"Where'd you go? Come back to me," you whispered.

He looked back up at you and the tears were back in his eyes, but this time you doubted they were tears of pleasure. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to..." He sighed. "I didn't mean to disappear on you. It's just...I'm used to that. I'm used to disappearing during sex, after sex... But I didn't do that this time. It was...different with you. It was nice. You've cared for me like no one else ever has. You...you paid attention to what I wanted, how I felt, what I liked. You weren't just using me for your own pleasure. I... It was like...you cared about me. I don't even know what to say! But, ah, you made me feel good, in a lot of ways. So... Thank you, darling."

You cupped his face and kissed him softly. "Of course I care about you, Astarion, I— I...love you."

He tensed up in your arms. A flash of panic passed through his eyes. You shook your head quickly.

"You don't have to say it back," you said hurriedly. "Not until you're ready. But I want you to know exactly how I feel about you. And...I love you."

He smiled and relaxed, melting into your embrace. "Thank you, my love. I...I'm not ready, not quite yet, but...thank you for respecting that. Here—let me cuddle you, I know how much you like that."

The two of you adjusted so that you could lay on your sides. You curled up in his arms and nestled your head into his neck. He carded his fingers through your hair, a gentle movement that was well on its way to lulling you to sleep. You reluctantly pulled yourself away, and only because you had adjusted and suddenly felt the cooling, sticky liquid between your thighs.

"We should get cleaned up," you murmured.

Astarion hummed. "Oh, yes, let me—" He reached for his shirt on the floor and brought it up to himself.

"No, no," you said. "Let me do it."

You took a towel and dampened it in the bowl of lukewarm water on the nightstand—probably there for this exact purpose. You squeezed the excess water out and gently wiped your mixed, drying releases from Astarion's thighs, abdomen, and cock. He sighed softly, relaxing as you cleaned him off.

"No one's ever done this for you before, have they?" you asked. He shook his head. You kissed him softly. "Get used to it, darling, because I intend to do this for you every time."

He grinned, a pleasant blush on his cheeks. "I could get used to this." He took the towel away from you. "Here, let me do it for you."

You laid back and let him slid between your legs. He groaned softly. "Oh, my sweet girl, you look so delicious with my cum dripping out of you."

You blushed fiercely, groaning. "Stop talking like that, or I'm going to demand we go again."

He perked up. "I'm up for a second round—if you can handle it, that is," he added with a cheeky grin.

You considered it for a moment while he wiped your thighs and entrance clean. "Give me an hour and maybe we can."

Astarion smiled and placed a dainty kiss just above your clit. "That's my girl." He laid back down beside you and pulled you into his arms. "Get some rest now, darling, you need it after today."

You wrapped your arms around him and rested your cheek against his chest. "Thank you, Astarion. For everything."

He hummed and kissed the top of your head, stroking your hair. "You're welcome, my love."

~❊~

You were ready to leave the next morning, and you and Astarion met the others in front of the clerk's desk on the first floor of the inn. Astarion handed back the key while you limped over to the group.

Unsurprisingly, Astarion had left you with quite the limp, even more severe than the first time he'd eaten you out at camp. Karlach didn't even try to contain her laughter at the sight of you.

"So you did fuck her last night!" she said to Astarion as he joined you. You blushed heavily. "We had no idea, couldn't hear a thing!"

Astarion raised an eyebrow, then looked at you with a grin. "They couldn't hear us, even with all the noise you made? We're getting a room at an inn every chance we can get from now on!"

"Not so fast," Gale said quickly, "they might not have heard you, but Wyll and I did!"

You squeaked. "You did?"

Wyll nodded, somewhat amused and somewhat apologetic. "You made noises I didn't think were possible. Or meant pleasure."

You turned immediately to Astarion, who was grinning like a cat, and buried your face in his chest. "Hide me."

"It's alright, darling," he whispered to you. "Gale and Wyll were across the hall from us. Next time, we'll just get a room as far away from the others as possible and I'll make you scream into the wee hours of the morning."

You blushed very brightly and the others groaned.

"Don't break her," Shadowheart chided. "Is your wound—"

"It's fine!" both you and Astarion said before she could continue.

"She's all healed up, no more scarring," Astarion promised. "Believe me, I wouldn't have gone as hard as I did if I thought she would get hurt by it."

"Okay, that's enough!" Gale said quickly. "Let's leave, please, and keep going. We've got important business to attend to!"

As you left the inn, Astarion took your hand and kissed the top of your head. "Are you sure I didn't hurt you? That limp's quite noticeable, dear."

"I'm fine," you promised. "You were quite good last night."

"Good. I'd be inconsolable if I had hurt you," he said. He brush your hair behind you ear. "I mean that, you know."

You leaned into his side and kissed his cheek. "I know, darling. And thank you. Now, come on, help me walk. It will be your fault if I fall."

He snorted. "Because I have you a good orgasm? No, wait, how many did it end up being last night? Two the first time...then another three?"

You rolled your eyes. "Oh, stop bragging! Come on, Gale's right: we've got work to do."

Astarion kissed you one last time, then pulled you against his side and followed the others out of the village.

☞ ❊ ☜

[Image Caption: I do not give permission to repost, translate, or publish my work on any other site or app by anyone except myself. I do not give permission for my work to be fed into AI (for audio, art, or writing).]

Baldur's Gate 3 // Astarion Ancunin

Taglist: {comment and let me know if you'd like to be added to the Astarion taglist!} @wayward-hel @cheeslyy @ofmyth-andmagicart @neetheslayer @whispering-depths @freesidexjunkie @lightsinmycity @the0ldmann @gobbodoggo @oooof-ifellforyou @beeblisss @fangboner @aquaarietes @fiercest-eigengrau-skies @niqhtfell @call-me-nyxx @lueji-m @ceres-xiv @tricksy-trinity @graynstairs @rosa-rubus @ynisthatyou @thegoodwitchs-blog @catching-fire-in-the-wind

#baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion bg3 #astarion #astarion romance #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion smut #astarion fluff #astarion angst #astarion fic #astarion x female tav #neil newbon #astarion neil newbon #neil newbon astarion #bg3 #bg3 astarion #d&d #vampire #vampire dnd #astarion my beloved #astarion x y/n #dnd game #astarion ancunin

[feyascorner]

Alternate timeline for TFBU where Astarion goes to the underdark with the other vampire spawns? He still leaves the group permanently after you kill Cazador without giving him the chance to choose to do it himself, but he never actually comes back.

He spends decades—maybe even a century in the underdark while you spend the rest of your days with that day haunting your dreams. You never pick up your lyre again, you eventually stop coming back to the house to your other companions at all, and you become a ghost of the city. While everyone moves on, you're just numbly existing in a time that only freezes for you.

But you still make sure to visit Astarion’s grave every few days. You don't know how you managed to find it, but you'd recognize the name carved into the headstone anywhere. And every day you leave flowers, and it’s the most you can do to cope with the unresolved feelings he’s left behind.

He spends years with the other spawn, mending his relationship with some of them but finds himself constantly thinking back on the day he left you. The day he nearly killed you. He's not sure how long it takes, but eventually, after so many years, he begins to understand. Living without Cazador’s dreadful presence makes him realize that perhaps power wasn't what he needed along—he only wanted to be free to live. This, of course, makes him realize how much in the wrong he was for reacting that way toward you, and he finally ventures back into the city.

But when he gets there, you're no longer there.

Too much time has passed. Too much of which he hadn't even noticed, because the sun doesn't rise in the underdark.

He finds his own grave where there’s a pile of dead flowers surrounding all parts of it. And despite how old it is, his tombstone is far cleaner than he remembers it, as if someone was taking care of it until recently. Carefully. Lovingly.

Then, he sees it. And he cannot deny how his stomach drops.

Your own headstone, on the opposite side of the graveyard.

Yours, is stuffed in the way corner, where nobody but the ones who actively search for it would ever notice its presence. It lies under a tree, and he doesn't have the heart to even read the years etched into stone, because he fears knowing how much time he wasted in just being able to understand you. To understand you'd done what you thought to be best for him.

He places a hand on the top of the stone. You feel cold now. No longer can he feel the warmth of your skin, see the gleam of your eyes, hold your soft hand against his face. No longer can he do what he came here to do, if you'd pity him enough to allow it. Instead, all he can do is stare at a stone with your name on it.

This is not you. You are not here anymore.

He rather wishes he'd just died the day of the ritual in Cazador’s plans. He would've died knowing how your warmth felt, but now—all he has is the memories of someone he threw away.

If there’s truly any merciful god left in this world, he's sure they'd kill him now.

#posting drafts because I have nothing else #tfbu #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion #bg3 x reader #fluff #bg3 #angst

[just-some-random-blogger]

i was reading your fics, and was reading one where daemon is going up against cregan a little bit. i got this idea, cregan giving the reader a direwolf puppy as a gift. daemon makes a snide comment about it and cregan just turns to him, telling him that your enjoying your new pet, and who knows, maybe one day cregan will give you puppies.

daemon seethes as cregan walks away, acting as if he didn't just imply he was gonna breed you.

Puppy Love

Daemon Targaryen x Reader + Cregan Stark x Reader

Summary: Ever since you came of age, you became the jewel of the court and your father turned down proposal after proposal, knowing if the man didn't want your massive dowry, they wanted to claim and corrupt your beauty and kind nature. And the only reason why your father hasn't chewed up the all too friendly dragon prince, was because he was doing most of his job for him. And anyway, your father knew you were too kind to think his attentions to you were anything more than friendly.

Word Count: 2k+

Warnings: Fem!reader, 'too kind' reader, jealous!daemon, smitten!cregan, fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: first of all, i have written quite a few fics were I've added cregan as uh an opponent for daemon so HAHHAH im not sure which one you mean, though I have an inkling it's Wish I Was Her (this is not a p2 of this btw) second of all, /: cregan dumb for giving away a direwolf to some rando dafaq. third of all, i really want do a take on a 'traditionally feminine reader' since i normally dont do that lol so im tryna make reader fit the period more, without making her a damsel in distress. wish me luck Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @deniixlovezelda @targaryenmoony

You straighten the brown paper in one hand while you fiddle with the wax seal that was on it moments ago. You snort through your nostrils, beaming at the ink on the the letter, eager to both reach the end of the page, and not wanting the words to end at all.

Daemon, who had been walking with purpose, forgets where he was going along the way when he spots you. You, the giggling lady, sat comfortably on the stone blocks that separated the garden and the hall.

The prince's stoic demeanor melts into an expression similar to yours when you smile at what you were reading. What were you reading? A letter? A letter from-

Quickly, the realization of what kind of letters a lady such as yourself would be receiving that would cause you to giggle like that makes his expression splat into annoyance.

With twice as much purpose, he struts over to you and calls out your name. You immediately avert your gaze, smile widening at the sight of him.

Good.

"My prince," you speak, bowing your head just as Daemon reaches you.

Daemon raises his brows and drops his lips, eyeing the paper in your hand, "a good read?"

You release a chuckle at the expression he pulls, "a very good read. I say Alaric is as good with the quill as he," you point to the paper, "harks to me how good he is with the blade."

He grunts, "Alaric." Where has he heard that tatty name before?

You chuckle as you watch Daemon stiffen. He places his hands behind him, slowly walking to the other side of the block you were sat on, sitting there across you, "which moronic suitor is he again?"

You drop your letter on your lap, tilting your head at the fuming prince, who now had his arms crossed. "Alaric," you start with a chuckle, "is my darling cousin, Anna's, son."

Ahh, Daemon blinks, that's why his name is familiar.

You snort, "he has merely just turned ten and one, your grace."

He clears his throat.

"Do you not recall rejecting my offer to attend the boy's nameday?" you speak through an amused grin.

"I've never cared for namedays," he trails off, crossing his arms.

You laugh. He turns to you because of it. How could he not when your laugh was like that? Your being beams in amusement, glowing like a star. It makes the prince emit a soft chuckle.

"If I didn't know any better," you say in between catching your breath, "I'd you were jealous of a child, my prince."

You catch the small smile on Daemon's face as he pretends to be offended, "and I'd say you've been reading too much."

Very suddenly, you gasp and point at him, making him pull his head back and his expression drop. His concern drops when you say, "is that a blush I see? Ooh!"

Daemon's arms loosen at your words. As if eager to make your words true, he begins to feel his body burn. Damn body.

You gasp the second time before throwing your head back in laughter, "I do say," you sigh, "scarlet suits you well."

Daemon rolls his eyes and shakes his head as he stands from his spot.

"Well, I mean, it is one of the colors of your house."

"Yes," he drops his hands to the side and walks over to you, "and I should well ought to make it your own."

And though Daemon smirks when he says this, your brows furrow at the thought. His vanilla baby.

"It would be pointless to try and convince my father to change anything about our house."

He sighs as you refold your paper, trapping a waxen seal in its center, and move to stand next to him, "in our actual house, I had to argue with him to change our drapes."

"No," Daemon says in shock, as if he actually cared.

"Yes!" you shake your head, "it was terrible! I had to remind him that I was now the woman of the house."

"Oh, that does sound terrible," Daemon huffs, eyes widening. He watches you as you believe in his empathy. He watches as you smile at his disingenuous words. Two beasts rip at him from within.

Normally, naïveté and slow-wittedness were traits that repelled him, especially in its womanly form, as it was drawn from the sheltered nature ladies like yourself were bred into. The dragon in him found this dull and all too conforming. He liked the burn from the whores, who would snarl if you took more than what you paid for.

Yet this personal brand of innocent on you was dizzying to him. One beast wanted to protect the purity within you, while the other wanted to taint it until all remained was him.

"And yes-" you take a moment to continue, "those were my mother's beloved drapes but... they had not been changed since her passing."

Daemon presses his lips together when you turn to the ground with a solemn expression. He does not get a moment to share the semblance of comfort in which he was capable of, because you quickly smile at him the way you always do and comfort yourself, "it is good to remember those who have passed, but they would not want for us to mourn them too long."

For once, he responds with honesty, "they would not, no."

The moment you smile at his words, your attention is taken from the prince.

You are called by a servant, who tells you there is a man waiting for you in the main hall. You courteously thank the servant and turn to Daemon, "thank you for ke-"

"I will escort you to your visitor," Daemon smiles, though not a real one.

You return a genuine one nevertheless, "I am grateful, but I do not wish to bother you, nor take up more of the time you already so graciously offered me."

Daemon takes your hand and pulls you near him with little regard, "you dare dictate what I do and do not with my time?"

You press your lips as you body collides with him.

"As though you were my wife?"

You clench your jaw, unintending to overstep, "my prince, I did not mean for it-"

"Yes, well," he cuts you off, "let us meet this moron who wishes to meet you."

"You know," you smile, "it may well not be a suitor."

Daemon chuckles, "I'm surprised you even caught onto that."

"Well, how could I not?" you chuckle, "when you were just jealous a child!"

He loses his smug expression. He scoffs into a chuckle as you laugh at him. "Oh very good," Daemon rolls his eyes and slowly claps his hand, "I'll give you credit. I did not expect that."

But what he very much did expect was that your audience was sought by a suitor; one large, slobbering dog of a suitor.

Very truly, Daemon's grumbling was merited, for why were you so enamored by the wolf-man and this overgrown rat-pup he bought with him?

He scoffs as you coo at the furry creature for the hundredth time, and for what? For doing absolutely nothing but expose its incompetence to walk in a fucking straight line?

And what's more, for every time the degenerate baby wolf toppled over, you tugged at its master's arm and pointed, leaning into him as you laughed and expressed jovial sentiments over the creature.

The prince rolls his eyes from the armchair he was sat on.

What was so impressive about a dog? There were dozens of strays outside the walls. He could get you twenty right now. A dragon egg should have elicited such a response from you, not this.

"Oh, dear Cregan-"

Gods, dear Cregan, she says.

"-your pup is a ray of sunshine on this chilly day," you speak.

Daemon watches you smile angelically at the large man with muddy dark hair and wiry curls. He watches as the cretin bares his teeth at you like a wolf does its prey, and you mistake it for genuinely, as always.

"If you are cold, my lady," Cregan says, removing the brown pelt on his shoulders, "then allow me to warm you."

Daemon straightens where he was slouched.

You recoil at Cregan's generosity, raising your hands as you shake them, "oh, my lord, I could not possibly accept the clothes on your back."

You watch as Cregan's rosy cheeks pull up with his smile, "then would you prefer I give you one your own?"

Cregan put on his fur again. You open your mouth to speak, but it is Daemon's voice that sounds, "she would rather you fuck off back to the North, dog."

You still at Daemon's words, promptly turning to him with a hardened expression of disbelief, "my prince-"

"And you best take your defective animal with you," he adds, grimacing at the wolf-pup chewing at a ball of wound fabric.

"Prince Daemon," you call tersely.

Daemon turns to you, expression unable to melt with the presence of that oaf on your side.

"Please do not speak for me as though your sentiments and mine own are one and the same," you calmly say.

Daemon scoffs. Cregan chuckles.

You turn to Cregan with a guilty expression, "I apologize on the behalf of ill-contrived words against you, Lord Cregan."

"No, you don't," Daemon quips as he stands, "don't fucking-"

"I appreciate your sentiment, my lady," Cregan ignores the whimpers of the lizard prince, "though you needn't worry yourself, for I am not wounded by words from the likes of him."

"The likes of me?" Daemon sneers as he storms over.

You turn to Daemon, suddenly at your side. Your eyes widen at the fury on his features. You hands instinctively come to his arm when he appears as though he is about to lunge at Cregan.

Cregan watches you do this, watches you calm the hot blooded fiend. Part of him burns in a shade green at your shared familiarity, but he is more amused by the fact you turn to him with a concerned look, nonverbally expressing your concerns that you, in fact, to not want him to pound your prince if he attempts anything. And so he laughs.

Cregan laughs and takes a step back, allowing you to step between them and push Daemon away in return.

Daemon's ire is fueled further, "what, you halfbreed?!"

You grunt as you turn back to Cregan, relieved he was smiling and not partaking in the hotheadedness the other man was.

"Did you fuck your wolf yourself to offer the pup to her?"

You recoil at the grotesque notion. You cannot stop yourself from calling out the prince's name in anger and bewilderment, "Daemon!"

Cregan laughs. It draws your attention. You sigh, "Cregan, I beg your par-"

"No!" Daemon barks, peering down at you, "he's come here on the intent of you bearing his pups, girl, and you'd so readily drop on your knees for him?!"

"He's brought one pup, Daemon!" you quip pulling away from him as you shake your head, "and I have no intentions of keeping the little wolf," you turn to Cregan, "for I have no such capabilities nor capacities to care for one!"

Daemon grinds his teeth. You heave.

Good enough.

The prince finds slight catharsis in your words. His anger does not fade however, because Cregan's grin is as wide as ever.

"Actually," Cregan raises his hands casually, "I have spoken to your father about the pup and he said he would accept it, for I am also giving you one of my servants as an aid."

The two men watch as you perk at the idea.

"Oh!," you gasp in disbelief, "so..." you break into a wide smile, "I can keep the wolf?!"

Cregan laughs as he nods, "and even better, you can name it."

Daemon is appalled by your next actions.

You run and throw yourself onto Cregan, sealing him into a hug for a moment before pulling back in realization your actions were most indecent.

Cregan however prevents you from pulling away too far, hands coming to your waist as he smiles down at you. He speaks with a lopsided grin, "I have been meaning to bring you the pup ever since we spoke about my pregnant wolf when you visited me in the North."

When you what?

"Will your dear Luna not mourn the loss of her puppy?"

LUNA?

Cregan chuckles, pulling his hands away from you, not because he wanted to, but because, between the two of them, he was currently the more amicable in your eyes, and he was not about to ruin that, "I assure you, she will fair fine, as she is preoccupied with three more at home."

You frown, stepping back from Cregan to turn to the pup, not at all seeing the twitching face of your prince, "still... I must not let him be forgotten by her mother and likewise."

Cregan smiles at the sentiment, "you have a kind heart, my lady," he takes your hand, "I would be glad to bring my wolves to your home whenever you want."

You are horrified by the notion, "oh please, it would be much better if I came to you."

Cregan nods, lips in a smirk, "I shall await then."

You seemed to be caught off-guard by the fact you unwittingly just made plans with the Stark.

And you had meant to explain you could not simply agree to his offer, but you were distracted by the string of High Valyrian being spewed into the air, paired by the loud sound of the prince marching out of the room.

#daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon x reader #daemon targaryen x reader #house of the dragon fic #house of the dragon fanfic #daemon fanfic #daemon targaryen #house of the dragon #cregan x reader #cregan stark #cregan stark x reader #cregan fanfic #cregan stark fanfic #cregan stark fluff

[theemporium]

click 'here' to unlock the other boyfriends!

.

You had thought you were perfectly content with love being expressed silently until you met Nico Hischier.

For you, love and silence had always been interchangeable throughout your entire life. You weren’t sure when it clicked, when the realisation had been set in stone in your head and never to be argued with. You just knew that silence usually meant good things, that it meant positive feelings. At least, you liked to assume.

When it came to your parents, the silence meant there was no scolding or nitpicking. They were never shy at the way they pointed out your flaws, your mistakes, your errors. It was hidden under concerns and wishes for you to thrive, but the pressure just felt as suffocating and overbearing as them. The silence was a relief from the constant remarks. 

In school, it was like the teachers and professors just expected you to do well. They saw a bright child, so the second the grades started to matter, the assumption was made that you would just thrive. That pressure returned, and you hated the disappointing and disapproving talks you would get if you did badly. Once again, the silence was a relief, it meant they left you alone and that was what you wanted.

It followed as the same in almost every aspect in your life: in your friendships, in your relationships, in your careers, in your achievements. Silence had become so intertwined with love, success and praise in your life that you knew nothing but. 

Until Nico Hischier. 

Maybe it was the captain in him, or maybe it was just the kind of guy Nico was. It was almost comical to think back upon the early stages of your relationship, when everything was so new and his words left you overwhelmed—but in a good way, in a way you didn’t think was possible.

“You didn’t have to wake up with me,” Nico said as he wandered into the kitchen. 

Unlike you who was still in your pyjamas, he was dressed in some sweatpants and a hoodie—the Devils logo and his number standing out on both. His gym bag was dropped at his feet before he wandered over to where you stood by the stove. 

It was early. Dreadfully early, in fact. And despite every cell in your body screaming for you to stay in your warm, cosy bed when Nico’s alarm blared for his early morning practice, you wanted to do a little something for him for once.

“I wanted to make you a proper breakfast,” you shrugged, letting out a soft sigh as he wound his arms around your waist, his chest pressed into your back as the warmth of him washed over you. “An apple and a protein shake isn’t enough.” 

“It’s worked alright so far,” Nico grumbled, his head dropped to your shoulder as he watched you cook. “But thank you. You’re amazing, schätzi.” 

You snorted. “You mean having a proper breakfast is amazing.”

“No,” he said, his voice firm but sincere. “I mean you are amazing. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

And maybe there was still a part of you that wasn’t used to Nico’s constant praise and affection. You could do hugs and kind acts and thoughtful gifts but, fuck, the words really got to you.

It just baffled you how easily the words could pass his lips. It came so naturally to him, so fucking easily that it made you question how you went your whole life having people struggle to even give you basic appreciation but this boy seemed to be able to praise you for something as simple as making him a meal. But it went beyond that.

 Nico did it with everything. 

You look gorgeous, baby, that dress was made for you.

Fuck, schätzi, doing so good f’me. Just like that.

I’m so proud of you.

You’re doing the best you can, baby, you’re so strong.

He wasn’t shy about his appreciation for you. He showed his love in so many different ways that made him the absolute perfect boyfriend, but the words that left his lips were the most consistent and—though you didn’t have the courage to say it yet—your favourite.

“You’re a sap in the mornings,” you commented, because whilst you were used to hearing them, it would still take time to fully accept them and not deflect instantly. 

He knew that. If anything, he thought it was adorable. It prompted him to do it more often just to see how flushed you got, just to see the way you were somehow caught off-guard every single time.

“Maybe you should wake up with me more often,” Nico retorted, swaying your bodies together in the chilly kitchen. “I could use a shower buddy.”

You snorted. “You would never make it to practise on time.”

“That is a sacrifice I’m willing to make,” Nico shrugged, but you could hear the grin in his voice even if you couldn’t see it.

“You’re gonna set a bad influence, captain,” you teased, shaking your head.

Nico let out a low groan. “Don’t start calling me captain, I have to leave in fifteen.”

“Think of it as motivation to do well,” you countered as you plated up your breakfasts and lightly nudged him so he would allow you to place them on the breakfast bar. “I’ll be in bed waiting for you.”

Nico shot you a look. “You’re a temptress.”

You grinned back.

“A gorgeous, sexy temptress that I can’t wait to come back home too,” Nico continued, pleased at the way your face flushed in response. 

“Dick,” you grumbled but you happily accepted the kiss he placed on your cheek as he thanked you for the breakfast.

And, much to his delight, you were in bed waiting for him after he had come home from practice, eager to climb in with you.

.

#nico hischier #nhl #new jersey devils #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier x you #nico hischier x y/n #nico hischier fic #nico hischier one shot #nhl x reader #nhl x you #nhl x y/n #nhl fic #nhl one shot

[frostbitebakery]

LOUD.

a Jedi Shadow!Obi-Wan AU

Introspection fucking sucks, according to Commander Fox.

The thing about him is, he’s been made out to be a bastard and ever since their batch found their calling or whatever he’s embraced that role.

Every batch needed someone who didn’t secretly want to be cuddled, who pushed others away so he could keep track of the big picture.

Cody had competed for the role for a while. As did Wolffe.

For Cody, his heart, big and fragile once you got to know him, got in the way in the end. He sees the whole picture, craves it so he won’t go crazy from the losses. But he believes in people and their goodness.

Fox doesn’t.

Wolffe made the mistake of getting the galaxy’s best General. General Koon shits rainbows and glitter, from what Fox has been forced to listen to.

Fox has… the Chancellor.

He takes a swig of water and wishes it were something stronger. But Quin is on the other side of Fox’s desk, reading glasses ever so slowly slipping down his nose while he’s crunching and tracking the numbers to prove the Chancellor is, indeed, siphoning credits off the Republic to giftwrap them for the Seppies.

He takes another swig.

Wouldn’t surprise him if Palpatine turned out to be the villain of the whole story.

Brought Fox to drink with the kind attitude, the cruelty so expertly hidden from first glance, cushioned in false promises and support.

Hadn’t been pretty. But it had been easy. You go to the right places, people are only too willing to shell out for some drinks. Entertainment and morbid curiosity what brings a clone to their knees.

Some found the lisp he has because of the scar that ransacks through his lips and tongue endearing but most hadn’t bothered with wanting him talking.

Some wanted to inspect the changes in the Corrie armor up close and cozy.

If shit hadn’t already multiplied, Organa came flouncing into the Guard offices every two weeks with a new design like they were his little dress-up dolls.

The last design, the one that stayed, had a dummy connector installed in the backplate.

Fox hadn’t mentioned it. Had stewed over how the Guard, already isolated from the rest of the GAR, wasn’t even considered for the neural network that would make them more efficient, more deadly if activated. Treated like scum on a pedestal, overlooked and taken for granted.

Fox takes every advantage he can squeeze from that.

Every batch needs a willing loner who’s got the big picture in his head at all times and doesn’t care for the minutiae.

Fox had been comfortable in that role, really. He saw Thorn and Stone and Thire and the rest of them making friends and lovers and heartbreak, and that was the last fucking thing Fox wanted.

And then came Vos. Appearing from the shadows like a designer nightmare.

For such a short time they’ve sure gone through a lot together.

To the point Vos became Quinlan became Quin became Vos again became someone Fox clung to while fighting fucking addiction and the realization that he is stupid enough to become addicted.

No matter what Quin had said, Fox was supposed to be the pinnacle of cloning and artificially creating the perfect soldier. Addiction is a weakness and fault.

Fox almost did something extremely stupid over that one.

Turns out it’s all part of the sentient experience.

Fucking sucks.

Quin had laughed at that, ugly and bruised laughter, continuing to comb his fingers over Fox’s head. “Tell me about it.”

An eloquent way to say Quin was going through withdrawal himself.

They got outside help after that.

“Hey, Depa,” Quin murmurs absently after answering his comm, pushes his glasses up.

“Quinlan, is your line still secure?”

“‘Course. Especially after Fox got his grubby little hands all over it.”

Fox shows him the middle finger of one of his grubby little hands.

“Good,” General Billaba clips out. Quin straightens up, and maybe Fox’s attention isn’t misplaced here. “Good. Commander Cody was activated by the Sith Lord and he’s bringing Obi-Wan to Coruscant.”

Activated.

Quin is silent. Blinks up at the ceiling. “Can you run that by me again?”

“Quinlan, we have reason to be believe the Chancellor is the Sith Lord.”

Hah. Fox got that one right on his bingo card, at least.

Cody got activated.

As they’ve learned, the neural network - battlefield mediation, in fancy Kamino speak - is activated by a designated Force using GAR personnel. Surprisingly, the status is even an optional display on the screens of every trooper’s vambrace. Or not so surprisingly.

Cody got activated by the Chancellor. Who is the Sith Lord the Order has been hunting.

Fox will deal with that later or never, whatever comes first.

He’s comming the Guard all across the planet, checking the weapons on his person, while General Billaba explains the situation. He appreciates her succinct manner, he’s gotta say.

“I’m on the way to detain Anakin. Mace is following the ship Commander Cody captured but we need someone to intercept them on Coruscant before he reaches Palpatine.” She halts for a brief moment. “Obi-Wan seems to believe the Commander has betrayed him when he knows about the neural link inside the clones. We are fearing the Darkness is deliberately attacking and clouding his senses.”

“I’m on my way,” Quin nods, adds with a calculating glance at Fox, “I’m not sure I have back-up.”

“Funny thing about the Alderaan design of the guard armor,” Fox comments, checking the plasma charge on his DC, and vows to give Senator fucking Organa a sliced fruit platter, “the Guard doesn’t have the connector to the neural link.”

He comms their resident medic next and orders every gundark-level tranquilizer delivered to him.

Cody got activated and is following the orders of a Sith Lord.

Stars help them.

#loud au #commander fox #quinlan vos #foxquin #tw addiction #my wips

[itsswritten]

when the sea calls for three | 3

Pairings: Azriel x Reader x Eris

Words: 5.3K

<<Previous Part | Masterlist | Summary

Autumn Court

“She’s late!” Eris's voice thundered through the hallway, his steps echoing on the stone floors of Forest House. You remained composed, waiting patiently as you heard his approach. Knowing full well the fiery storm that would follow.

The doors burst open with a forceful push, and Eris entered into the room like a whirlwind, his expression a mixture of frustration and impatience. He opened his mouth to unleash a barrage of complaints, only to falter as he caught sight of you seated calmly with his mother, sharing tea.

There was that fire. A flicker of it anyway.

You were no stranger to the fiery nature of the Vanserra’s. Lucien had his own, but it was interesting how differently it manifested in them. 

Lucien’s heat was like a welcoming hearth, radiating warmth and comfort like a cosy fireplace. But beneath, lurked potential. His fire, always crackling, could easily spread if provoked.

Beron had always been like a volcanic eruption, spitting burning molten fury upon anyone who crossed his path with no warning or restraint.

Restraint was something you felt Eris had a multitude of.

He was different. His fire felt different. Always simmering, on the verge of boiling over but never quite reaching it. It was as if he had learned to temper his flames, dampening them in the presence of his father. Now, with Beron gone, perhaps that simmering intensity would finally have the chance to ignite into something new.

You guessed only time would tell.

Sensing the tension, Lady Autumn, Hestia, intervened with a gentle smile. "I must apologise, my son," she began, her tone soothing. "I simply couldn't resist stealing y/n away for a quick catch-up. Don't hold her responsible when it is I that is at fault"

You couldn't help but smirk, finding amusement in the sight of Eris momentarily caught off guard. His previous expression of frustration changed into something that bore indifference. 

As you and Lady Hestia rose to greet him, she enveloped you in a warm embrace, "We're all thrilled to have you here. Oh, how I wish your mother could see you now. She would be bursting with pride." Genuine love left those words. The mention of your late mother stirred a bittersweet ache in your heart, and you noticed how even Eris’ expression softened.

"I'll leave you both to it," Lady Hestia beamed once more, her gaze shifting between you and Eris with pride. “I believe the pair of you will do wonderful things for this court. Together.” She held one of your hands in hers, while her other rested gently on her son's cheek. Leaning in, her voice softened to a whisper. "I'm proud of you too, you know."

Eris's expression softened further at his mother's words, a mix of emotions flickering across his features. He had brought an end to it all—his father's reign, the tyranny that had gripped them all. For his mother, for his brothers, for his people. He had taken the ultimate risk, and succeeded. You knew if it was Beron that still stood here to today, he would have had no part in this new peace treaty. 

If not for Eris's courage, well, you wouldn’t be standing here in Autumn today either, ready to forge a new path forward.

Despite the poor reputation that often preceded him, you had always suspected there was more to Eris than met the eye. Beneath that hard molten exterior, you were sure a kindness lingered. 

A small flicker of a flame.

A rare spark you had glimpsed in your younger years– a quality that you knew came from Hestia. It was a golden thread of hope you clung to, that perhaps beneath all those hard layers, the real Eris would now reveal himself. 

That maybe he was more like Lucien than either of them would ever admit.

However, he made it all too easy to believe the opinions of others when he looked at you like that. His unreadable expression, stoic and yet fiery with eyes that harboured resentment.

Who were you kidding? This was Eris Vanserra.

Eris reluctantly led you down the winding corridors of Forest House. You’d forgotten how large this place was, how deep the levels went. Memories of your childhood flickered through your mind as you recalled times where you and Lucien had ran down these very halls. Eris hadn’t taken you to the lower levels, instead he showed you the way to the western wing on one of the higher floors. 

Eris halted before a grand oak door. With a subtle gesture, he swung it open to reveal the spacious chamber beyond. "This room is yours." Eris announced, his tone begrudging.

He could have just got a member of his staff to do this. You wanted to roll your eyes at him, but you realised he was trying. That perhaps years of pretending to be this evil heir to appease his father may actually take time to erase.

So you would give him a chance. As you were giving all the courts, it was only fair.

Stepping inside, you were greeted by the warmth of a crackling fire and the inviting embrace of luxurious furnishings. The bed, adorned with sheets in hues of burnt orange and chocolate. A sight that made you want to curl up on the sheets there and then, Autumn had always been cosy. A large ornate wooden desk occupied one corner, while a private washroom beckoned from the side.

You surveyed the space with a sense of amusement, a soft chuckle escaping your lips at the indulgent opulence. The quietness of the quarters enveloped you, the secluded area obvious.

Was he hiding you in this part of the house? You’d noticed how it was far from the heart of the home.

"Do I have this entire wing to myself?" you quipped playfully, your eyes dancing with amusement as you turned to face Eris.

Eris's response was matter-of-fact. "My quarters reside in this part of the house” he states plainly, his expression revealing a hint of reluctance.

Surprised by his choice, you press further. "You haven't taken up the High Lord's quarters?"

A moment of emotion passes over Eris's features as he shakes his head. "I don't want to displace my mother from the room she's spent centuries in. Plus, I have no desire to inhabit my father's spaces. This part of the house has always been mine."

You nod in understanding, appreciating his unwavering respect and love he’s always had for his mother. A quality all of his brothers had.

Although you assumed there was more to it than just a son’s respect for his mother. Were there areas of the house he didn’t want to go? Parts where his father’s presence still lingered. 

“It’s eerily quiet…” you raised a brow, stepping to look outside the large window onto the beautiful autumn scenery.

“It is.” Eris's voice held a hint of amusement as he joined you by the window, his gaze following yours to the tranquil landscape outside. “It's so I can hear you if you get up to any trouble. My chamber is only down the hall.”

Ah, how quickly the taunts came. How natural this felt despite it being centuries.

Familiar, teasing and warm. His words had always felt like that when he spoke to you.

“Always so paranoid Eris…but good to know you’re only down the hall should I need you” you replied with a hum, only to watch that glint in Eris’ eyes turn playful.

“And why would you need me, little mouse?” His tone was teasing, and the old nickname sent a wave of nostalgia washing over you.

Little mouse.

That pet name. One you had almost forgotten about. The name instantly transporting you back to a time when you did indeed feel like a little mouse beneath Eris’ fox-like smile. 

Did he remember too? That time you almost gave yourself to him… 

You were at a ball, where you had slipped away, seeking solace from the overwhelming social obligations and the awkward third-wheeling as your friends found their own romantic pursuits for the evening. In the dimly lit corridors of the grand ballroom, you sought refuge away from the echoing sounds of laughter and music. You leaned against the cool marble walls, tugging at the tight corset around your waist.

It was then that Eris's voice, smooth and dark, pierced the silence around you. "What is Lucien's little girlfriend doing out here all alone?" His presence had seemed to materialise out of nowhere, his figure looming closer as he prowled towards you with a predatory grace.

You had rolled your eyes at his predictable taunts, a hint of exasperation tingeing your tone. "Really, Eris, that joke is getting old."

You watched as he came to stand in front of you, his presence already warming you. And you weren’t sure if that was because of the fire in his veins or the effect he had on you. It was perhaps not one of your proudest moments, but yes you may have had a small crush on your best friend’s older brother. His cold exterior usually scared most away, but there was a warmth in his eyes that you hadn’t been able to ignore.

You couldn't deny that you often found your eyes searching for Eris during your visits to Lucien. It was a fleeting fascination.

"Then if you are not my brother’s... does that mean this little mouse is available for the taking?" His words dripped with dark humour, tone laced with a hint of something more. You felt your cheeks flush with heat, betraying any composure you had.

As he leaned in close, the proximity between you electrifying, you found yourself at a loss for words. You were never at a loss for words, but somehow in the presence of Eris you were. He looked like a fox ready to feast on you, and there was a part of you that was willing to let him. Maybe it was low inhibitions from faerie wine, or simply the desire to have someone’s attention that night, but you would have let Eris devour you.

But then as his stare took in your expression, his gaze softened for a moment. It was only fleeting, but whatever had crossed his mind was enough for him to abruptly pull away and head back into the ballroom.

The rejection tasted bitter in your mouth, and so you pushed that feeling deep, deep, deep inside of yourself.

Eris seemed to wet his lip with his tongue as if recognising where that name had taken you, and he was relishing in it. “I guess if the little mouse finds herself needing a comforting presence at night I’m not too far away. Maybe if you ask nicely I might even let you share my be-”

You smacked his arm hard, cutting off whatever inappropriate sentence he was going to finish with. This was your fault really, you’d opened the gates to this type of talk. But it was so familiar, you couldn’t help yourself. It was like you were 21 again with that stupid all consuming crush on your best friend's older brother.

Old habits died hard it seemed.

You weren’t 21 anymore though, and you wouldn’t crumble under his stare. He was watching you now, curious to know if he had gone too far but that soft smirk spread across your lips giving him the satisfaction he needed.

“Careful High Lord,” You mused “Careful.” and with that you turned “Come, we have work to do.”

You had given him your warning, and yet it very much felt like a challenge to his ears.

༄ 

You and Eris sat in his office, staring at the miniscule pile of submissions that had been sent in by his court. While Summer and Night's inhabitants had been perhaps overly forthcoming in expressing their thoughts, Autumn's court remained eerily silent.

You flicked through the handful of submissions, each one echoing the same sentiment: satisfaction with the status quo. 

They were reluctant to rock the boat. 

Eris let out a frustrated sigh, dragging his hands down his face in exasperation. "My father has instilled so much fear into the land that they're too scared to even present their problems," he muttered bitterly, his gaze fixed on the sparse pile of papers.

You took a moment to digest his words before speaking up. "But you are not your father, Eris."

He looked up at you, a glimmer of doubt in his eyes. "No, but to some, they consider me just as bad."

Why was it in the unspoken you truly heard him.

Am I just as bad?

Your heart clenched tightly at his doubts. "Then let's show them you're not," you suggested, your voice firm with determination.

Without waiting for a response, you stood up from your chair and walked out of the room, expecting him to follow. True to form, Eris hurried after you, his steps quickening to match your pace.

“Little mouse, I’m not fond of chasing.” Eris shouted, his voice echoing through the corridors of Forest House. You hastened your steps, keeping ahead of Eris’ footsteps.

As he caught up and grabbed your hand hard, pulling you to a stop, you couldn't help but notice the flicker of annoyance in his expression. "Looks like you chased me anyway," you quipped with a playful smile, glancing down at your intertwined fingers.

His hand was warm and firm, yet with a roughness that differed from the Shadowsigner’s touch.

Why were you comparing them?

You pulled your hand from his quickly, not giving yourself another moment to linger on how his skin felt against yours. “We need to change the narrative Eris, let’s meet your people directly.” 

Eris didn’t object, his gaze lingering on his hand for a moment before he scoffed, shaking his head. You could have sworn he wanted to smile. “You’ve always been so hard to say no to.”

“It’s because I’m always right” You sang, stepping out into the crisp autumn air, the leaves crunching beneath your feet as you made your way towards the nearest town. Eris following closely beside you.

The townspeople of Autumn seemed to scatter like leaves in the wind at the sight of their red-headed High Lord, their gazes darting away or pretending to be engrossed in their tasks. It was a reaction Eris had grown accustomed to, one that grated on his nerves more than he cared to admit. His stoic demeanour, a shield he'd always worn, now seemed to be the very barrier keeping his people at arm's length.

Approaching a farmer with a stall brimming with fresh autumn produce, you noticed the tension in the man's shoulders as he glanced nervously at Eris behind you. His wooden stand boasted an array of vibrant fruits and vegetables. "Could I buy a bag?" you asked with a warm smile, trying to ease the farmer's apprehension.

His response was tentative as he began to bag up some plump blackberries for you. "Has your harvest been good this week?" you inquired, attempting to strike up conversation.

He seemed hesitant at first to reply, but you introduced yourself with a small smile. Vaguely brushing over your new role, and what you, as well as Eris were setting out to do during this new reign of peace. The farmer rolled his shoulders back as if finding confidence. "I've been lucky… but some of the land has been struggling. There's a blight on some of the soil," he replied cautiously, his eyes still avoiding Eris's imposing figure.

"No one notified me," Eris interjected, his tone firm and harsh. But you knew there was an underlying concern that rang in his words.

"Apologies, your grace. With your father... may the cauldron bless him... he didn't like us to inform him of these issues, only to rectify them," the farmer explained, bowing slightly.

Eris went rigid, and you gave him a soft glare as if to remind him that he was supposed to be painting a new narrative here.

"I will send a harvest healer down to the farms. Please inform me if you come across such problems again," Eris instructed, his tone softer this time.

As the farmer passed you the bag of berries, Eris unexpectedly dropped a few gold coins into the man's hand, overpaying for the fruit. "Thank you, your grace," the farmer murmured gratefully before retreating.

Despite Eris's efforts, it was evident that it would take time for his people to see him in a different light. Coaxing more residents to open up proved challenging with Eris looming behind you, his presence an obvious deterrent. Determined to find a solution, you gently looped your arm through his, eliciting a faint frown and a subtle pull away from him. "What are you doing?" he grimaced at your touch.

Gods, you’d have thought you’d burned him with his reaction.

"Softening your image. Having a pretty thing on your arm won't do you any harm," you remarked with a playful smile, hoping to chip away at the walls he'd built around himself, one touch at a time. 

But despite how playful your reply was, your action was thought out. Having your charismatic smiley self on the arm of Eris, you hoped would sweeten his image, even just a little.

He merely rolled his eyes, his expression veering towards indifference, yet he didn't pull away. Your arm wrapped around his, drawing you intimately close, the warmth of the Vanserra male warding off the chill of the crisp autumn air. His scent enveloped you, a familiar blend of crackling fire, cloves, and cinnamon. 

Being this close to him wasn’t awful, a younger version of you may have even longed for this. 

Your plan had indeed worked. There was an undeniable charm in the sight of you hanging on the arm of the High Lord that seemed to thaw the reserve of the people, coaxing smiles and candid conversations from them.

The final stop for your visit was a bakery, one you remembered fondly from past visits. The sweet aroma of freshly baked goods wafted through the air, triggering a wave of nostalgia. "Please tell me you still have the pumpkin cream pie," you requested eagerly, your eyes lighting up. The baker's response was warm, and she quickly set about preparing one for you to take away. "You don’t understand how much I’ve missed this," you confessed, your excitement palpable. Eris had joined you by now, leaning casually against a nearby wall as he observed the interaction.

His expression softened as he watched you, the warmth of your personality radiating as you engaged with the baker. It was a quality of yours that had always drawn people to you, even from a young age. 

You had a way with words, a knack for always saying just the right thing. Whether it was to win an argument, gain the favour of opinion or uplift someone, the correct words always rolled off your tongue.

Pretty words from that pretty mouth.

Of course Eris knew the reason behind your charm, a secret he had long kept to himself. He knew of the abilities his little mouse possessed. 

He realised how long his gaze had settled on you, and it didn't escape his notice how the staff watched closely, some of them with a light tinge of pink covering their cheeks as they blushed,giggled and whispered between one another. In that moment, he realised the true power of having a ‘pretty thing’ on his arm.

Meanwhile, you were busy savouring the pumpkin cream, licking it off your finger with relish. "Gods, this is so good," you exclaimed, your smile infectious. But as you glanced up, you caught his unreadable gaze, and a hint of concern flickered in your eyes. 

Had you been too casual? Falling into this familiarity with him had felt so natural that you hadn’t even considered if it was maybe a tad unprofessional. Not that there would be anyone to reprimand you, but you did want to succeed in this role.

Swallowing, you decided to steer the conversation back to business. "I think this approach worked," you remarked, attempting to gauge his reaction. He was still looking forward as you both walked back to Forest House. "They were quite forthcoming with concerns once we got them to open up. There are a few areas I feel as though I'd be able to support." But his face remained inscrutable, as if he were pondering something much weightier.

Then, unexpectedly, he spoke, halting your steps in their tracks. "I want you to help me find a wife," he declared, his tone serious.

The request caught you off guard, though in hindsight, perhaps it shouldn't have. After all, he was the High Lord, and finding a suitable partner to rule his court with, and of course produce an heir, would be a natural priority for him.

"Of course, Eris," you replied, your tone as composed as you could manage. 

Why had the notion left you so uncomposed?

He smirked then softly “You were right about having a pretty thing on my arm. It worked…Plus it’s probably about time.”

You paused for a moment, your own lips spreading into a smile at what he had said. A younger version of you would have relished in this, being called ‘pretty’ by him. Perhaps, there was a version of you now that enjoyed it too.

"I'll begin looking into potential suitors for you right away." You decided to say, not trusting your usual snarky remarks.

“You can even look for those outside of Autumn, to help with your peace treaty and alliances or whatever. No one from that bastard Night Court though.”

You nodded with a soft chuckle. He had given you an olive branch. A martial alliance would be a great addition to this new era of peace.

Things were falling into place better than you had expected.

But beneath the surface, there was a pang, a feeling you couldn't quite decipher. Something you didn't dare acknowledge even to yourself.

༄ 

Dawn Court

Dawn had been the easier of the four courts to manage, with Thesan being your own High Lord. You had both arranged an in-person meeting for his people to gather and discuss their concerns in the flesh.

During Amarantha's reign, Dawn had stood steadfast in protecting its borders, thanks in part to your efforts. Reflecting on that time was hard, it brought back a mix of emotions and memories, ones you liked to leave in the depth of your mind. But the duty to defend your home had never sat comfortably with you, yet it was a responsibility you willingly shouldered. As a result, you had earned the admiration and affection of your people. 

It was ironic how once some of them had considered you and your family as outsiders, but now they revered you, often laying flowers at your feet. Pressing gifts into your hands and singing your blessings when you walked the streets. The praises and gifts had quietened down since the conflicts, but you often found a bouquet of flowers at your front door, or were stopped in the streets to be embraced.

Despite the concerns shared by all of Prythian, Dawn exhibited a sense of optimism amid the lingering apprehension about border openings. Morale remained low, and safety remained a paramount concern, but there was an obvious excitement about the prospect of travelling between courts. They wanted this new peace treaty to succeed, and they were willing to help in any way they could to change that.

For two days, you assisted Thesan in managing the affairs of Dawn, aiding him in delegating tasks and prioritising court matters. As the sun set on your final night, you retired to your townhouse nestled in the heart of the city. 

As you slumped into your living room, the sound of a deep voice filled the space. "And she finally finishes," the voice chuckled warmly.

Lucien, Jurian, and Vassa were sprawled across your couch and armchairs, making themselves at home in the space you had graciously offered them for their gatherings when they were in Prythian. They had a manor in the mortal lands, but you opened your home to them for when they needed to be more inland. 

You greeted them with a smile, leaning down to plant soft kisses on Vassa and Jurian's cheeks in greeting, before turning to Lucien. You passed him a small box, with a slice of Pumpkin Cream Pie inside. It elicited a chuckle as he picked up the slice.

“Oh you treat me so well doll.” he smirked, before devouring the slice in a few bites.

"So, have you not been on the continent?" you asked, finding your place next to Lucien and propping your feet up on his lap as you sank back into the couch.

You were utterly exhausted.

The first few weeks of this you had anticipated to be tough, but the amount of work was somewhat excessive. And it would start all over again tomorrow. The cycle repeating. Summer, Night, Autumn, Dawn.

"We were, but these two insisted on seeing you, and for the upcoming week, it's easier for them to be among the solar courts," Lucien explained with a shrug.

Vassa offered a small smile, though her discomfort at using your home without you was evident.

"Don't worry about it," you reassured her, waving off her concerns. You had known what she wanted to say within the unspoken. "My home is yours to use as you please. Besides, I'm hardly here these days anyway, so please, make yourselves at home."

With that, Jurian flashed a grin, sauntering over to your nearby trolley bearing a decanter filled with amber liquid. He quickly poured four glasses, passing them around.

“So, give us the rundown,” Jurian inquired, his gaze shifting between the two of you. You exchanged a glance with Lucien; you hadn't even had time to correspond with him this week, a reality you believed would continue. Tilting your head slightly, you encouraged Lucien to go first, while you sipped on your drink. The alcohol instantly warming your throat.

That was exactly what you needed after the long week.

Lucien began to list the concerns and events of his week, there was a clear similarity across Phyrthian you noticed. Morale was low, and people still felt divisive. Despite the unity forged in the war, that comradery hadn’t seemed to extend. Lucien gave your sock-covered feet a playful pinch, causing you to recoil them from his lap with a feigned glare. "Your turn," he quipped, prompting you to take the floor.

You ran them through your week, highlighting the issues and developments you encountered in the courts you were managing.

"You've opened up trade agreements for Summer, got Night to agree to a school, and are on the hunt for marriage suitors for my brother... Jeez, what else?" Lucien summarised with a scoff and eye roll.

"We can't all be as good as me, Lucie," you retorted, playfully nudging him with your elbow.

"Eris didn't give you too much of a hard time, did he?" Jurian asked playfully, his tone laced with familiarity.

It was nice to see how close Lucien had gotten with Jurian and Vassa, especially since his friendship fell apart with Tamlin. Lucien deserved this, deserved a circle.

You let out a nonchalant hum, absentmindedly playing with a strand of your hair. "You know, Eris isn't all that bad..." you trailed off, your thoughts drifting.

"Maybe not with you... He's always had a soft spot for you," Lucien interjected, shaking his head with a knowing look.

You playfully kicked your foot against his thigh. "What's that supposed to mean?"

A knowing smirk tugged at Lucien's lips. "You know exactly what it means. He's just always been softer with you."

You rolled your eyes, recalling your recent interactions with Eris. Soft was not a word you would use to describe him—perhaps playful or teasing, a little mean even, but not soft.

"What were the infamous Inner Circle like to be amongst?" Vassa interjected, redirecting the conversation.

"Fine, polite, worked hard," you replied, feeling Lucien's subtle fidgeting beside you. You knew the question he wanted to ask but didn't dare. "She wasn't there; I haven't met her yet," you added softly, referring to his mate.

You watched as your friend glanced down at his drink from your words, his usual witty exterior faltering for a moment. Lucien hadn’t indulged you in the finer details of what had transpired between him, Elain and the Shadowsinger. What had caused Elain’s abrupt withdrawal of contact from them both, but the strain it had on him was obvious. 

The one thing Lucein had shared, was that she hadn’t outright rejected the bond yet, you hoped that was some glimmer of something worth holding onto. 

Your fingers moved instinctively, reaching out to gently press against your friend's cheek. His eyes fluttered shut momentarily at your touch, before you playfully pulled on his cheek with a tug. "Get out of that pretty little head of yours, Lucie," you teased, tapping his cheek once more.

The touch had pulled his mind back to reality, as he swore under his breath and smacked your hand away. 

"Gods, you fae are so complicated, with all your complexities, bonds and relationships," Jurian quipped, his tone laced with amusement. You couldn't deny he had a point. Whether politically, platonically, or romantically, there always seemed to be layers upon layers, it’s what was making your new job all that much harder.

"Oh like you humans are any better." Lucien retorted quickly, there was a playfulness in his tone as he sipped on his drink.

"I'm sure if everyone got together and shared some drinks, we'd all be fine," Vassa added, as she raised her drink in the air. The liquid sloshing in her glass.

"Yeah, why can't we all just get shit-faced and go dancing or something? Nothing bonds people like a shared hangover," Jurian grinned.

The room filled with laughter as Lucien remarked something about the last time Jurian was hungover, Vassa quipping in. Your thoughts left you for a moment as they drifted to what Jurian had said.

Getting drunk and dancing had always been a release you’d loved, one shared by most fae and humans. Perhaps one the the few similarities you all shared. And although "getting shit-faced" wasn't the most elegant phrase, the sentiment behind it rang true.

“You two are actually onto something there…” you spoke, the words leaving your lips as your idea formed in your mind. You’d sat up now, looking at Lucien who only frowned at you.

"I'm pretty sure we can't arrange for everyone to have a huge piss-up," Lucien remarked dryly. “As much as I’d love it, it doesn’t feel very…appropriate.”

"We’re obviously not going to organise some sleazy boozer” you rolled your eyes at him.

“Shame.” Jurian piped up.

“But we can arrange a ball.” You smiled that dangerous grin that you knew Lucien found hard to ignore. “Phyrthian’s first ever Peace Ball” you continued, coining the term there and then.

Lucien leaned back into the couch, still looking at you as he digested your words. He was chewing on the inside of his cheek, perhaps figuring out logistics for your outrageous idea. 

But slowly that fox-like grin you loved so much spread across his lips.

He put his glass up in the air “A fucking Peace Ball…”

You quickly raised your glass with a chuckle, Vassa and Jurian raising theirs too. 

Trade agreements, a school, diplomatic martial arrangments and now…a fucking Peace Ball. Lucien had made the right call bringing you on board; there was no one more convincing, more persuasive in all of Prythian. You and your pretty words would bring peace to this land, even if you had to force it upon them.

“Cheers!” 

Next Part >> coming soon.

a/n: Decided to post this early, sorry again if it's a little boring, just trying to set everything up. Would love to know what you think so far. How are you expecting this story to unfold? Is there anything in particular you're hoping to see with the story/characters/relationships? Would love your input <3 - Lottie

#acotar #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #acotar azriel #acotar fanfiction #angst #acotar series #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #eris x you #eris acotar #eris vanserra #eris x y/n #eris x reader #azriel x eris #eris x reader x azriel #azriel x reader x eris

[bettyfrommars]

Okay. An idea. Eddie and you, drive in, b movie monster marathon, nice crisp autumn night.

I’m over summer, sue me.

🧡🖤

Hope this puts a smile on your face Meg 🧡

Eddie Munson x Reader

18+ONLY, mature themes, smoking the devil's lettuce, b-movie references, friends to lovers, use of "baby" but no she/her or y/n, pure fluff, just some cute nonsense, Eddie and reader are in their early 20's. wc: 1.4k

I'm just a sucker (for you)

“Got it,” you crawled up into the squishy van seat with Eddie’s infamous drug lunchbox in your hand, plopping down with a theatrical smile on your face.  “I knew I felt its presence.”

Eddie sat there looking so proud, as if you’d just pulled it out of a magic hat.  “My baby is a bloodhound when it comes to the devil’s lettuce.”

You took a sharp inhale and choked a little at the use of the pet name.  You and Eddie were not romantic like that, you’d only ever been weed buddies who met through Reefer Rick.  Recently you’d discovered that he also enjoyed getting stoned or buzzed at the drive-in on Wednesday nights when they offered the cheesy, cinematic glory of b-movies by the likes of Burt I. Gordon and Roger Corman.

You’d both showed up alone to the drive-in, and on your way back to your car with a popcorn bucket almost too big for the crook of your arm, Eddie whistled to get your attention.  It was a wolf-whistle, the likes of which made you frown as you searched for who the dead man was.  His arm lolled out of the van window in a wave, and he gave you a finger gun.  

“Oh, it’s just you,” you snorted, shoving a few kernels in your mouth, fingers glistening from all of the butter.  You didn’t mind that kind of attention from Eddie because you knew he was harmless. Wasn’t he? Neither one of you had any attraction to each other, whatsoever, as far as you knew.

But then, you stopped in your tracks a few cars down, thinking about how you’d smoked your last bowl earlier, and Eddie would for sure have a decent supply on him.  Maybe it wouldn’t kill you to hang out with a fellow freak for a bit.  

The October nights were chilly, and you thought to grab a hoodie out of your car before you made your way back to his van.  The grass at your feet was scattered in burnt orange and gold leaves, and the air was crisp, yet warm, with the smell of rain and freshly cut wood.

Eddie saw you walking back and jumped out of his vehicle this time, determined to get your attention.  He held his hands behind his back, lifting up on his toes, tentatively.  “Did you come back to give me a kiss?”

His mannerisms made you chuckle.  “Keep dreaming, Munson,” you pushed the popcorn tub into his chest, and he grunted, taking it with both hands. “I thought you might like some company.”

Eddie squinted at you, whispering, leaning in, “you came to smoke all my weed like a little feral, stoner raccoon.”

The movie started —Attack of the Crab Monsters—and Eddie feared he’d left his lunchbox at home. You weren’t sure why, but you were about to stay and watch the movie with him even without the weed, but then you decided to take a chance and check around his messy van, just in case.  

“Why is there a bed set up in the back?” You asked, wondering if maybe he was in between living situations at the moment.  You’d been staying with your mom since you dropped out of college, and most days, you wished you were living in your car.  

Eddie wiggled his eyebrows at you as he fingered a joint and slipped it behind his ear, snapping the lunchbox closed.  “Wouldn't you like to know.”

You rolled your eyes.  “Please, you have about as much game as I do.  There’s no way you’re getting laid that often in this van.”

“You know what they say,” he looked around, making sure no one was walking by as he passed you the lighter.  “If the van’s a rockin’, don’t bother knockin’.”

You checked around too, and then sank down in your seat to take a long drag, passing it back to him, fanning the smoke away, coughing a few times, while the scenes from the black and white film flickered across your face. Just beyond the movie screen stretched a line of trees dressed in fall colors, and a big, bright, dark blue sky that burned purple over the hills.  

You shared sneaky pulls off of the joint for the rest of the movie, each of you getting progressively invested in the loose plot, and giggly about it all at once. Eddie asked you a few personal questions, which you weren’t expecting, and sometimes you could feel his eyes on you.  It was a double-feature night, and right after the crab monsters they were showing a personal favorite of yours: The Monster Club with Vincent Price.  

It also happened to be one of Eddie’s favorites. 

“There’s no way,” he shook his head dramatically, brushing his bangs off his forehead.  “Nope. It’s impossible you love this movie, too.  No one I know has ever even heard of it.”

“Well,” you had one foot hanging out the open window, sucking from your straw. “I feel bad for the ones who haven’t heard of it.  It’s a masterpiece.”

You let him know that you had to run to the restroom but that you would be right back, because you didn’t want to miss the beginning, and you asked if you could get him anything.  As you said it, you could tell he was doing his best to contain the smile yanking at the corners of his mouth, but his efforts were fruitless.  

“So,” he crossed his arms, tilting his head sideways to give you a curious look.  “I guess you do like spending time with me?”

“Absolutely not,” you teased, slamming his door shut on your way toward the concessions.  

There were butterflies in your stomach as you returned to the van, though; an undiagnosed thrill in your veins that had something to do with seeing his face again. 

With Vincent Price’s face looming over the parked cars, Eddie cleared his throat.  “Do you, um,  have any plans for Halloween?”

“I never have plans,” you gave a self-deprecating bark of a laugh.  Your favorite holiday was in a couple days and the most you had done was carve a few jack-o-lanterns.  “I mean, used to, when I was kid, but these last couple years have been…rough.”

Eddie kept his eyes on the screen, plucking at the steering wheel with his thumb.  “Do you, um, think you might want to come see a band with me?”

You snapped your head to look at him, but his eyes only flicked to you once before returning to the movie.  

“A buddy of mine is in a cover band and, um, they’re playing at the haunted maze,” he pressed his lips together and then blew them out on a puff of air.  “But I totally understand if it’s not your scene.  I’ve got a shit ton of old horror movies at my place, too, or I’ve got friends at Family Video, we could—”

“Eddie Munson,” you had a funny feeling flopping its way from your stomach to your heart.  “Are you asking me out on a date? Or are you just asking me to join you as a friend?”

 “Now that all depends,” he lowered his chin, wiping something imaginary off of his jeans.  “What would you say if I did ask you out? Would you, um, be into that sort of thing?”

“Shhhh,” you halted, eyes straight ahead.  “Hold on, I love this part.”

You used it as an excuse to reach over and grab his forearm, to touch him, to give the type of reassurance that words couldn’t.  You squeezed him through his leather jacket a few times, only a couple seconds, and Eddie watched it in slow motion, aching to take your hand.  The distance was suddenly too far.  

It was a song sequence with a vampire band on stage at the Monster Club singing “I’m just a sucker for your love.”

“You come from Pennsylvania

I’m from Transylvania

And I’m a pain in the neck...

When I kiss and fondle her

It’s like making love to a 

Colander”

You could hear Eddie mumbling the lyrics and tapping his thumb, because he knew the obscure song by heart.  

 “Yes, Eddie,” you kept your attention on the screen, and now it was you losing the battle with a smile so big it pushed up your cheeks.  “I think I would like to go on a date with you.”

#Eddie munson #Eddie Munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #October #Halloween #drive-in movie #fall #eddie x reader #requests

[notakoala]

Title cover by me, please ask for permission to use. Not the panel but the editing :)

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Todoroki's sick?

This is just a drabble for the moment but if I post this hooray you get to see what sort of lovesick lonely relationship I want.

ITS A COMPLETE SLOWBURN PLEASE DONT HATE ME

Contains: Vomit, Illness, Spoilers.

Todoroki gets sick? Thank god your there to help him you pitiful bastard.

Your in your last year of U.A, just after your exams he gets sick. Where did Shouto go?

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"Todoroki Shouto." The same monotone voice came from your tired teacher, had his eyebags dropped even more? His eyes had surely gotten more red. He looks stoned, you wish you could be too.

Zoning out for a second too long you feel a glare from your teacher who had probably said your name mote than three times by now, flicking his scarf to slide right past your ear, a whooshing sound which jolted you out of your zoned out state.

It was the same silence, the same silence that had gone on for the past three days. Time doesn't normally matter to you, the world moves either to quick or too slow so you do your own thing.

"Focus or I'll make you run laps."

You flinch and look directly at your teacher who had moved towards your desk, black eyes slowly emitting the gloomy red that scared you sometimes. Sitting up straighter then you had ever sat you gave him a small smile before nodding a small apology. Thank god he was tired or he might have probably killed you by now.

"Ah, [Your Name]. Is there something bothering you?" Uraraka asked beside you quietly as you all began writing. To which you turned to see her eyes locked with yours.

You respond with a quick 'hm' shaking your head trying not to worry your friend, shifting your focus back to your writing as you tried not to think about specific things.

'I wonder where Todoroki is...'

'Is he with his dad? Maybe his mum...'

You shake your head and pinch your arm to refocus feeling a hint of heat on the tips of your ears. Your eyes staring intensely at the word 'mixture'.

'Fuck, that's also like him.'

Rubbing your temples now, and running a hand behind the back of your neck and pressing down on the sore spot that had grown increasingly through the pressure of homework and assignments, Hero work too.

A low muttering came from Midoryia, he was back to his usual ways even while Mr Aizawa spoke in his colourless voice. And Ashido and Kaminari were whispering to each other trying to get some form of idea as to what to write.

If you were completely honest you didn't know what to write either, the work was something about Physical and Quirk development, which was a pain when you had learned majority of it in middle school.

Yet you didn't know what to write, even if you knew about what you were learning, you still didn't know what to write. Maybe it was the three assignments that you turned in earlier today, maybe you were just burnt out.

Aizawa's words were now muffled through your thoughts as you doodled over your pages of lined, neat work. They weren't the best but they were cute enough to stay in your book.

"But sir this is too difficult!" Mina and Denki whined in unison, snapping you out of your stage of drawing and listening into the bickering, Bakugou yelling at them from across the room.

"Shuddap. If you werent so stupid maybe you would understand!"

Aizawa sighed yet again, sleep deprived probably, maybe an insomniac. "Bakugou, get back to your own work."

After a miniature altercation between Aizawa and Bakugou, it ended with Bakugou going quiet and grumbling as he continued working and Aizawa scolding Mina and Denki.

Uraraka was giggling beside you, covering her smirk and lowering her head further than what it usually is and trying to compose herself. Her brown hair was definitely longer than what it was in your first year, down to her shoulders now.

She complained that it was getting too long and that she needed to cut it but she didn't have the money, so when Momo offered to pay she declined and said that her hair was fine the way it was.

Even if she was your friend she's a little too anxious about money, even if it was ten dollars. You knew it was because of her background but she's going to be paid a shit ton in the future, if she continued with her path of being a pro.

You ponder on the small parts that you were thinking of before. 'Three days.', was the main thought as you were distracted yet again, which ended with the sake old lecture about listening and paying attention by Aizawa.

***

"[Your Name!" Tsuyu and Mina ran after you, the entire of U.A walking the same paths as the rest of the years. It was your last year, last year of all of this. It sparks an anxious pain in your chest but at the same time motivation.

You turn to face your two friends and Mina practically jumps into your arms and nearly takes the both of you to the floor. And now your winded as Tsu drags Mina off you.

"Are you going to come to dinner tonight?" Tsu asks, her croaky voice comes from her, shorter than Mina and you but thankfully taller than that purple balled idiot. He hurt your neck often when he gave you creepy smiles and all his perverted stuff.

A shrug comes from your shoulders which ends with a pampering Mina begging you not to stay cooped up in your room for the rest of winter holidays. A short answer came from your lips and Tsu's tongue was sticking out as she smiled warmly.

"Probably not, I gotta get this resume in."

Tsu nodded and pulled at Mina's shirt and trying to usher her away as to not hold you back any longer. She might not have spoke many words but she's very expressive through her emotions.

Eventually she was picked off bit by bit, and the dormitory was around a minute away walking. You were tired, but now having to write up a resume that you were planning on doing a week earlier, didn't happen. The procrastination got to you before you even started.

So you began walking, thinking about how to start on your resume even though it was simple, obviously you had to start with your full name, address... 'Would it be the dorm number or just U.A?' The thought ran through your mind before getting thrown into the many other thoughts.

You gave a small wave to Sato who was watering some of the flowers that the class planted earlier this year. He waved back only a few seconds after you, and by then you were already at the steep of the stairs. Pushing the doors open to the smell of Bakugou's food.

Ignoring the smell you looked at the elevator before taking the stairs, you were only on the first floor anyway. It was a flight of stairs, the least you could do is not be lazy.

When you unlocked your door, the small 'rodent' so you claim it to be meowed and purred against your leg.

"Hey Asana, what'cha doing pretty?" You ran a hand along the curled soft hair of your cat, you weren't really supposed to have pets in the dorms but they didn't have to know about him.

Sure, Asana was a male cat with a girl's name, but he didn't know that. He can't understand English, sometimes that makes you suspicious of him. So you shut the door behind you, picking him up and smooching his head three times before he places a paw to your nose.

"You stink."

Asana responded with a long meow, of course. He wanted food, you place him on the ground and sort him out. Flopping onto your bed with a groan of relief when the softness of the cushion collides with your back.

In less than a second, the little rodent you loved so much had jumped on you and was making biscuits on your chest, putting all his weight on his front paws, making you wheeze in pain, how could a cat be so heavy?

He purred loudly and soon after fell asleep on you, which left you scrolling on your phone and typing up this resume that you definitely needed to do before you left school. And of course it would probably take three seconds to finish, but you had sooooo many other things to do. One of them was steal Bakugou's recipe cause damn his cooking is amazing, he would mind so you would have to do it in secret.

Did he even have a recipe to follow? It would surprise you if you didn't, maybe Sato could help. Bakugou never seemed to mind him helping with cooking, he'd prefer him cleaning or doing something else. But only a grumble would be his response.

Thinking over your plan you knew it wouldn't help, you were already on social media and Mina had posted a class photo, Sato was there as well. Damn, he probably ran so he wasn't late.

It was already dark, maybe you could order in. You didn't have much energy to cook anyway, Bakugou definitely wouldn't waste his precious time cooking for you anyway, you were 'a pain in the ass'.

'Ah, I forgot about Todoroki.'

The thought that crossed through your mind from earlier today had reached you again, Midoryia said that he wasn't out with family. Iida said that he had probably become ill, with his continuous efforts at school.

"Asana, should I message him?" You ask your cat, he wasn't going to respond. Either a meow or his ears twitching would be the response.

He was dead asleep. On your chest, curled ears twitching when you sighed deeply and looked at the name on your screen, 'Shouto'. He had a small emoji next to his name, thanks to your creativity of putting what their quirks were as emoji's.

After a long groan and thinking you fumble around messaging him quickly.

'Hey Todoroki, I was wondering how you are doing since you haven't been at school.'

Sent.

Fuck.

Squeezing Asana'a pretty white fur he responded back with a low purr. Three minutes go by, feels like forever and the embarrassment of messaging someone you don't usually message. Ah, this is shit.

Your phone lights up, the notification carxges your eye.

Shouto 🧊🔥

'I'm unwell.'

Dry text. As usual, it didn't bother you as much as it used to, he's gotten better since first year.

'Would you like me to get you something?'

You message back immediately, the heat rushing to your face.

Shouto🧊🔥

'Porridge and Orange juice?'

Was all he replied before you sat up, Asana jumping off and getting comfy on your bed, maybe you should change. Sweats and a singlet? Yep.

Grey pants and a black singlet was what you wore, bringing up a hot bowl of porridge and a carton of Orange juice that was in the fridge, wasn't yours but you'll buy another one for whoever complains.

He was on the fifth floor, wasn't a preference, you would complain if you had to go up five floors.

You reach his room that was labelled with his name, Todoroki. And you knock on the door, it was dead quiet. Usually you would be able to hear Jiro playing her instruments but she was gone as well.

The door clicks open and you see Todoroki, taller than you. His hair a mess and both of his hair colours mixing with eachother, he has showered. But he looks like a mess.

"Can I come in?"

You ask quietly and he covers his cough with his elbow, nodding and turning around so you can go inside his dorm. Very traditional, you saw it a few times while studying with Sero. He cleans regularly, but it's gotten messy since he's been sick.

There was a bucket next to his bed, has he been really sick? Maybe Gastro.

"Sit back down I don't wanna make you run around or something." You usher him back to his futon, you have the kindest expression on and aren't trying to push him around too much.

The room has a hint of sickness in it too, maybe you would get sick too. Oh well.

He sits down with his legs crossed and looks up at you, his face puffy and his hair still a mess, he looks like his gaze is a blur and you gently give him the porridge.

"Have you been eating?"

This is awkward, first you had to message him and now your stuck in his room, with him when he is sick. Your eyes wander and he eats the porridge slowly, blowing on the spoon a few times and switching off his phone. He nods to your question, responding back in a sick and croaked speech.

"Mhm, not much."

Your breath tightened, his voice was usually deepish and monotone but when he's sick. Jesus, gonna take the life outta you.

In less than a second that all changes when he leaps towards the plastic bucket beside his futon and gags profusely, throwing up the porridge he had eaten mere seconds earlier, his stomach trying to throw up on an empty stomach now.

You quickly make your way towards him and kneel down beside him, he puts a hand out to stop you but you move his hair out of the way. It had gotten longer throughout the years but your pretty sure he's been missing his hair appointments.

"Come on Todoroki! Why didn't you let us know." Grumbling beside his ear, he wipes his mouth before sitting back up again, washing his mouth out with the cup of water beside the bucket and spitting it into the bucket.

He goes to stand up, but you keep him sat down, giving him the carton of orange juice that you had brought earlier, were you holding that while keeping his hair out of the way?

"What are you doing?" He asks in the same groggy probably drugged up voice while watching you pick up the vomit filled bucket and taking it to the toilet in his room.

You look back at him, pushing the toilet seat up and pouring the foul substance into the toilet. Flushing it before closing the lid. "You need to rest. Your not getting up unless I'm gone."

Strong tone and using the shower head in the bathroom to rinse the bucket, you turn your head to see if he agrees.

"It's only a stomach bug."

"A stomach bug that makes you look like your about to die."

"Every illness makes you look like that."

"Your not getting up unless you need to go to the toilet. Your quirk is going to drain your energy so don't use that either."

He sighs, not wanting to argue and knowing you were kind of right, he hated to admit it but he actually liked that you cared for him like that. He had gotten used to looking out for himself but when his friends and classmates helped him he realised he also had to look out for others.

"Fine."

He couldn't help it however. He wasn't that sick, right?

You sit down beside him on his futon and look at the half eaten bowl of porridge, he was drinking the juice in hand and staring at you with those oh so beautiful eyes. But it's when he leans over and rests his head on your shoulder that makes you freeze.

"Thanks."

Was all he spoke before closing his eyes and breathing in your scent, you were confused as to why he had done so. Maybe he liked you? Is he clingy when he's sick?

You chuckle and pat his back, he was already relaxed into you but your physical touch made him melt, his body weight becoming evident on your body. So you use majority of your strength to keep sitting up, while adjusting to his weight.

His eyes were closed against you and his breathing became quieter and quieter until you almost could mistake him for being dead. It was soon you realised you were both breathing at the same pace. Did that always happen when two were so close?

Spotting a damp rag on the floor, you pick it up to feel if it is still cold, it wasn't. You couldn't move yet because he was practically attached to you. Jolting when you moved even an inch, so now you were laying down beside him on the single futon. His head against your arm and his arm along your waist.

This wasn't like him, for sure. Was he mistaking you for someone else? Your hoping he's not, cause whoever he would be thinking about like this. Wasn't you.

"It's cold." He speaks quietly, it's only then that you realise the chill in the air. It was already night? But the sun was up, you checked your phone that was sat in your pocket. Your eyes widen at the time. Two hours?!

Two hours had gone by and you could have finished this resume. You couldn't have wished for anything better, or worse? Todoroki Shouto was asleep on you, but you needed to finish this resume.

"Todoroki-"

"Shouto."

"Uh- Alright then. Shouto, I have to get this resume done."

He grumbled and geld onto you tighter, looking up at you, oh lord, he was adorable. Looking up at you with his opposite coloured eyes and pouting ever so slightly.

"Just do it in here."

"Ok then."

Why would you want to argue with him like that? You felt a sense of pity because he was sick, but also because he actually wanted you to stay with him? Your living a dream that you so desperately don't want to end. Maybe if he was well this would send you head over heels.

***

"Hey Todoroki! Where's [Your Name]?" Mina asks with her usual bubbly attitude, staring up at the taller boy with her 'raccoon eyes' as others have said.

Todoroki looks up from the book he was writing in, locking eyes with Mina, Asui was standing next to her with her frog-like tongue sticking out as he responded, scratching the side of his neck.

"She's not feeling well."

"What?!" Mina exclaims, her hands coming to the top of her pink curls quickly as she looked shocked. "She didn't even go anywhere! How did she get sick?"

"She came to visit me when I was sick." He replied back in a monotone speech and got back to writing whatever was on the board. Not knowing how excited Mina looked when she turned to Asui and giggled running off.

'Did I say something wrong?'

—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–——–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—

This story is officially FINSIHED! I know I definitely lost some sort of motivation towards the end, I hate slowburns but I do say so myself. This is alright.

Proofread!

Thank you for all the support I have been getting! d=(^o^)=b

#mha #mha headcanons #mha x reader #mha fluff #shouto todoroki #shoto todoroki #shoto x reader #todoroki x y/n #todoroki x you #todoroki x reader #shouto x reader #bnha shouto

[flem17ng]

would love love love a jessie x dancer!r pls & thankyou 💖 ps I love your work

strength and grace: Jflem x dancer!reader

note: This was so fun to write anon! Thanks for the prompt x

summary: jessie passes the same dance studio every day on her walk and admires the dancers. It never occurred to her that one of them was admiring her back. 

word count: 2.7k

The snow was thick on the pavement that morning and jessie thanked the poor bastard who’d taken the time to salt the path the night before. The snow made banks in both sides as she trudged onward. Her hands were shoved deep in her pockets and she hid her face in the collar of her jumper. Training never stopped, even in winter when the wind was sub zero and the field had to be heated. She was passing a small row of shops when gentle music made her pause. It echoed strangely through the empty street. It came from a stone building with large windows. She’d seen it before but had never taken the time to admire the dancers within. 

The glass was almost frosted over, but she leaned up to see inside. 

A lone figure stood in the warm light dressed in a half zipped hoodie and sweatpants. Her hair was in a messy bun that seemed to be slipping from the hair-tie. The woman moved to the music like water: graceful and fluid. every so often she paused, pressed a button on her phone and started the dance again. 

Jessie could have stayed there for hours watching that girl dance. But eventually her fingers started going numb and she was rudely reminded that she had to get to the training ground. 

She loved being back home in Canada, loved it even more when she was home for winter. Everything was so quiet and cold. The hockey season was kicking off, the ski fields opened up. Unfortunately it did mean training her ass off in freezing rain most mornings and today was no different. the raindrops started falling heavily as she pulled herself away from the dance studio window and she wished, randomly, that she was in there with that strange dancer instead of out in the cold. 

***

No matter how many times you practiced the move, you couldn’t pin it down. The studio was empty that morning because you had come in so early. You’d had to hype yourself up to get out of the house because of all the snow on the road. You have never been so grateful for the studios heating system. 

“fuck” you groaned. One second off the beat! Maybe you were being a perfectionist but it needed to be perfect. You pressed play again. The music filled the room in waves: piano, strange vocals, guitar. 

You lifted your hands above your head and moved. The dance wasn’t for a competition or anything, more of a passion project. You danced to get out emotions, to release. You moved to the music fluidly, feeling it, understanding. The tricky part was coming up again and you scrunched your eyebrows, focusing. 

“ugh” you groaned again and rubbed your eyes. you psyched yourself out again. You looked around the empty studio and caught movement in the corner of your eye: a woman walking past the window, bundled up in the cold. For a second you thought your eyes met but she kept walking. maybe she was watching you dance, you thought and smiled. 

***

Jessie stood with her teammates as they made their lap of the stadium. The game had gone well and the energy was always fantastic during a home game. It was extra special for her because the game was so close to home. The crowd was full of family and friends. Fans who traveled to be there held large signs and decorated themselves with maple leaves and red paint. 

It was no small secret that you were a big fan of women’s soccer. Specifically that you were a big fan of Jessie Fleming. You first watched her play in the olympics a few years ago and from then on went to as many games as possible. Your friends often teased you about it, and sure, maybe it was a little silly. The truth was you just loved to watch her move. The way she ran across the pitch, the way her legs seemed to go wherever she needed to be. her muscles stretched and contracted and  her arms- Ok so maybe it wasn’t just about her soccer skills. 

The game had been a good one, you’d managed to get tickets right at the front and now the whole team was standing just a few metres away waving to the crowd. 

“omg Y/n i think that player you like is looking at you” your friend whispered with a smirk. You scanned the team and sure enough Jessie Fleming was watching you. She had a strange expression on her face, as if she was looking for someone she knew. Her cheeks were red and her hair was messy from the game. Dispite the cold air, she had pushed up her sleeves to sit above her shoulders making you blush.

She kept looking at you before shaking her head and giving you a grin. 

“what was that about” your friend laughed and slapped your arm. You would have replied but at that moment you were far too busy reminding your heart how to beat properly. 

Down on the field Jessie was tugged away by Quinn. they were talking about something, ball movement or something along that line but jessie was still thinking about the girl in the crowd. Maybe she was being crazy but she could have sworn that was the dancer from the studio in her town. The way You had smiled at her left her feeling a little dizzy. 

“hello Jeffy? are you listening at all?” Quinn laughed giving Jessie a small shove. 

“What of course I am! Ball something right?” 

Quinn shook their head with a smile. 

“You’ve been out of it since i caught you staring all gooey eyed at that lady in the stands! Do you know her?”

“I was not gooey eyed! also no one says that anymore. I don’t know i think she’s from my town.” jessie explained with a humph. 

“well i’m pretty sure she was wearing your jersey. Must be a fan” Jessie blushed but brushed them off. She was a grown woman! she wasn’t getting ‘gooey eyed’ over a pretty stranger who happened to dance like an angel. 

*** 

The next day Jessie made her way up the street to the studio with a purpose. She needed to see you. Even if she didn’t know you, even if she didn’t speak to you, She wanted to see you, To make sure it really was you at the game. 

When she reached the window she didn’t hesitate to lean into the glass and look into the warmly lit room. Instead of an empty room like a few day before, there where lots of young children in tiny too-toos. The music was light and bouncing and the kids laughed and screamed as they pointed their toes and spun around. It was a moment before the instructor came into view and, just as jessie had thought, it was you. You stood at the front of the room in a  skirt that matched the children’s, a glowing grin covered your face as you corrected the movements of a few stray kids. 

Jessie couldn’t help but smile as she watched you dance around the group, movements just as fluid as before but playful, full of joy, childish. 

She blinked and you disappeared, the class still dancing to the music inside. 

“excuse me? can i help you” You asked, head sticking out the door into the frosty air. Jessie turned, startled, only to watch your face change into a similar look of surprise. 

“I’m so sorry! I walk by here to get to my work and i usually stop to watch you dance! I didn’t want to interfere.” Jessie squeaked, feeling suddenly guilty. 

“no no! don’t worry i just- I’m sorry I’m y/n.” You smiled and stepped onto the front step, your breath making clouds in the air. 

“I’m jessie” she grinned and held out a hand for you to shake. You blushed and took it. 

“Jessie…” you breathed. “well Jessie, I wish i could chat for a while but these kids might light something on fire if i’m gone too long!” You began to turn back inside when she touched your arm to stop you. 

“i’m sorry this is so unusual but… Did you go to a football game last night by any chance?” Jessie questioned, wondering if there really was any way to ask this in a not creepy way. 

“i did yes. My uh, My favourite player was playing” you grinned and turned back inside. Jessie stood there on the step for a minute after you closed the door. It was you she had seen in the crowd, and you had a favourite player… Jessie wasn’t sure why that made her stomach flip. She wanted to be your favourite player. The thought hit her like a tone of bricks. She barely knew you for christs sake! yet here she was, standing in the snow outside your studio thinking of every way she could make you like her. 

***

The next match came faster than expected. It was a friendly up in toronto and the team was buzzing. Jessie had spent the past few travel days planning how she could impress you. Honestly this wasn’t her thing and maybe she was being crazy but that didn’t stop her. The day of the game was cold, the pitch was hard and the game itself even harder. 

It was second half when the penalty was given to canada: the wall was set up and jessie (the designated kicker) was lining up the shot. 

The crowd roared and she spared a glance at the stands. It was then that she spotted you, sitting right by the goal in a thick Canada jumper. 

The whistle blew and jessie kicked. The ball sailed through the air, spinning and spinning. The crowd had already begun the rise when it slipped past the goalies fingers and slammed into the back of the net. 

Jessie ran forward towards the crowd and lifted her hands above her head, arching up into her toes and lifting her head to the sky mimicking the movement of a ballet dancer. At the last second, before the team ran into her, she looked at you, making sure you had seen the celebration. Sure enough, you stood in your seat, grin plastered across your face giving jessie a thumbs up. It was pretty easy to say that was the best game all season. 

***

The damn heating system had broken down. On the plus side, the kids classes had been canceled that morning because of the snow, on the down side: You now had an extra hour of empty studio time in the freezing Canada cold.  You switched the music on, adjusted your jumper and started to dance. You had finally finished the number, ironed out the kinks and gotten past the tricky timing. The movement flowed easily and you let your muscles relax and you danced. You were so engrossed in the music that you didn’t hear the door open or the footsteps on the floorboards. Only after the dance ended did your intruder announce herself. 

“sorry i didn’t know your coffee order so i just got hot chocolate” You wizzed around at the sound of her voice and saw her leaning against the mirror with to steaming cups and a sheepish smile. 

“Jesus Jessie! you scared me!” You tried to look angry but couldn’t, instead breaking into a grin and grabbing a cup from her outstretched hand. The drink warmed up your hands and you took a moment to let the heat seep through your bones. 

“you look so peaceful when you dance” Jessie all but whispered, looking down at her own cup. 

“oh… Thank you. I use dance to… center myself i think.” You leant against the mirror next to her and watched her watch you for a moment. “Nice goal the other day by the way. Very impressive. The celebration was a nice touch even if your form was a little off” 

Jessie blushed and rolled her eyes at herself, still in disbelief that she had done that. 

“well, I needed something to get your attention didn’t i?” she muttered. 

“you already had all my attention. I told you i was there to see my favourite player didn’t I?” You unzipped your number and turned around showing her the large “17” on your back. Jessie opened her mouth into a little ‘o’. 

“oh! I’m your favourite?” She smiled with wide eyes. You just laughed and shook your head.

“of course you are!” 

jessie grinned and ducked her head, embarrassed. Here she was making a fool out of herself for a pretty girl who already liked her. 

When she looked up she found you watching her with warm eyes. You admired her for a moment: Even in the cold of the audio Jessie seemed to radiate a warmth, a cozy energy. Her cheeks were pink (from blush or cold you couldn’t tell) and her eyes sparkled in the warm light. 

“I love hot chocolate by the way” you stated, holding up the cup. 

“oh yeah? Lucky guess i suppose.” Jessie took a large gulp of her own drink leaving a fine line of chocolate froth of her top lip. 

“oh wait you have- let me” Before you could think, you leant forward and wiped the foam from her top lip with your thump. Jessie let out a sharp breath making you pause, thumb still resting near her mouth. you looked at each-other for a long moment, your hand not moving, your eyes traveling from jessie’s eyes to her lips and back again. 

The door opened with a bang causing you both to jump apart. 

“Y/n!! we need to get the bloody heater working before tomorrow or i will freeze!” One of the other dancers yelled before noticing the awkward air in the room. “oh i’m sorry i didn’t know you had a… guest?”

Jessie coughed and stepped back. “no that’s ok I was just leaving” she turning and walked towards the door quickly. 

“wait jessie-“

“see you later y/n” jessie gave you a wave and a lopsided smile before stepping outside and out of view.

***

You couldn’t make it to the next game because it was in another province but you watched on TV. Jessie was glowing the whole game: running like lightning, tackling the opposition seamlessly. When she made an epic assist you stood on your sofa and cheered. And when the ball hit the net and the whole Canada team copied Jessie’s celebration from the other night (arms up, toes pointed like a squad of muscly ballerinas) you couldn’t help but gasp and slap a hand over your mouth. She knew you would be watching, Of course she did. 

Maybe it was this elation that possessed you to walk to the training center in the small hours of the morning on the day the team was set to arrive back. Maybe the thought of jessie smiling as she pretended to dance on the field was the thing that had you waiting for the bus to pull up and the doors to open. Whatever it was, there you were: the sun not yet risen, freezing in your ‘Fleming’ jersey in sub zero temperatures as jessie, looking tired and sore, got off the bus with her team. 

You waited no time running towards her, pausing only a second so she could drop her bags and open her arms. When you hugged her, all of a sudden you felt like no music or dance in the world could explain your feelings. 

“Jessie- I saw on TV! Did you ask them to do that with you? I saw-“

Jessie cut you off, placing a hand on your neck and finally putting her lips of yours. Her lips were cold and yours tasted like lip balm but you didn’t care. You pulled her closer and kissed her. Vaguely you could hear the team cheering but you paid it no mind, holding your girl close. 

This was all you needed. She was all you needed.

#jessie fleming #jessie fleming x reader #canwnt #woso x reader #woso

[sailor-aviator]

Fool's Fare: Chapter Eight

Fool's Fare: Chapter Eight

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Captain Jake "Hangman" Seresin had come close to swinging from the gallows more times than he would care to admit. He's stolen, cheated, even killed. The worst thing he's ever done? Broken the heart of a woman. Having broken the heart of the woman whom Davy Jones himself had fallen for six years ago, Jake is now cursed to live as something not dead, but not alive. He's doomed to live a half-life for the rest of his existence unless he manages to obtain the treasure Davy Jones deems most valuable. The problem? He has no idea what it is, and he only had seven years to obtain it.

Content Warning: Cursing, Talks of a curse, Arguing, Feelings of Betrayal, Feelings of being used, Mentions of broken hearts, Verbal abuse (kinda), Mentions of death of a parent, Talk of the supernatural, Mentions of abandonment, Suicide mention, Reveals. I think that's it, but please let me know!

Word Count: 3.2k

Series Masterlist || Moodboards || Playlist || Jake "Hangman" Seresin Tag List

Guilt was almost never rational. It was the monster that crept into your emotions, turning sorrow into pain, anger into wrath. It didn’t care for things like logic or forgiveness. It fed on the destruction it created, leaving behind ruin and sometimes even catastrophe.

You felt guilty for the disappearance of your father. Maybe if you had begged him to stay that last day, had pleaded for him to not go like your instincts told you to, he would still be around and things would be better. Your mother would never have died of a broken heart, your brother wouldn’t be suffering the effects of a curse that were not his to bear, and the ache that lay inside your chest wouldn’t be throbbing from your conversation with Captain Jake Seresin of the Hangman.

Water lapped against the rowboat as two of the men pulled and pushed the oars through the water. You sat in between Mickey and Bradley, refusing to meet the gaze of the blond who sat across from you. His green eyes bore into your profile, willing you to turn and look at him, but you stubbornly looked out at the dark waters that surrounded you, the mist not allowing you to see very far, not that there was much to be seen.

Mickey fidgeted uncomfortably next to you as his gaze darted between you and the captain, his fingers tugging on his sleeves as he chewed on his bottom lip. You could feel Bradley’s eyes on you as well, drilling a hole into the back of you head. You let out an annoyed huff, tapping your foot gently against the floor of the boat as you crossed your arms.

You wished a rogue wave would come and swallow you whole.

The shore grew closer and closer with each passing moment, and soon the men around you were hopping out into the shallow waters, still eerily dark and murky despite being so close to land. Mickey and Bradley got out on either side of you followed by Jake and Javy, leaving you the last one to exit. You stood to get out, a hand coming into your line of sight. You paused to look at it before glancing up to see Jake still looking at you, eyes shining with something you couldn’t place. You scowled at him, batting his hand away and taking one step out of the boat and into the water. The sand shifted, causing you to stumble, and Jake’s hands wrapped around you to keep you steady. He helped you onto firmer ground before you pushed him away from you with a glare.

“I’m fine,” you snapped, brushing your clothes off, “I had it.”

“Sure you did,” he muttered, not taking his eyes off of you. His brow creased as he frowned, and you let out a huff, stomping over towards where Bradley and Mickey stood. His gaze lingered, but you didn’t turn look back at him, instead choosing to watch as the men dragged the boats further up onto the shore, weighing them down with nearby stones so that they wouldn’t float away once the tide came in.

It was then that you allowed yourself to look around, taking in the jungle scene around you.

Loud cries from the different birds sounded all around you, some squawking and others chirping as they hopped along the branches. You heard the chattering of other creatures as well, watching as shadows darted about above you as well as in the brush surrounding. The mist clung to your skin, and the air was surprisingly cool for what should be the tropics. Perhaps the ship had been blown farther off course than anyone had previously thought.

Rustling sounded from behind you, and you whirled around. Your hand flew to the sword that lay strapped to your side, unsheathing it a few inches as you waited for whatever was there to show itself. Your muscles tensed as more rustling sounded, the large leaves moving, and you sucked in a breath as your eyes widened, the creature revealing itself in one quick motion.

The sound of your sword unsheathing all the way and swinging in the air filled the small clearing, and Jake was met with the business end of the sharp weapon, tip stopping just shy of his chin. His own eyes widened as he stared at it, quickly darting up to meet yours. It took you a moment to process what was happening before you, and you scowled at him, lowering the sword and sheathing it once more as he let out a nervous chuckle.

“Little jumpy, huh Guppy?”

You ignored him, face still set into a scowl as you took a few steps around the clearing. A strange energy filled the air, one that set your heart hammering inside your chest and the blood in your veins zapping with energy. Your fingers twitched at your sides, everything becoming intense around you. The air started to feel almost suffocating, the noises becoming louder, the foliage becoming brighter. Your eyes darted around as an overwhelming sense of dread gripped you, your chest starting to rise and fall rapidly as the sensations grew. You took a few tentative steps around the clearing, willing the sensations to stop, to slow down. It was all so much.

“Guppy?”

A hand grabbed yours, and the steadiness of it grounded you. Your head whipped around to look at Jake, uncertainty coloring his features as he studied you. The colors faded back to normal, the sounds became quieter, and the energy swirling around you became less stifling. Your breathing returned to normal, and it was then that you realized that tears prickled at your lash line. You wiped them away quickly, clearing your throat and pulling away from the blond to inspect the far side of the clearing.

“Are you okay?” He pressed, taking a hesitant step towards you. You waved him off, schooling your features as you heard the sound of a river nearby.

“I’m fine,” you muttered, refusing to meet his eyes. Of course you were still mad at him, who wouldn’t be after what you found out in the cabin? He had been using you for months, getting closer to you only to relieve the effects of the curse that plagued him. He had wormed his way behind your walls and into your heart, and you hated him for making you care about him. You had been played for a fool, and the very thought had you clenching your fists with rage.

“Guppy, please-”

“What do you want from me?” You snapped, whirling around to face him, nostrils flaring and eyes blazing. “What? Are you upset that you let your little secret slip out? That I’m basically just some kind of pain relief for you, and that’s the only reason you’re interested in me at all?”

A frown tugged on his lips, brow pinched in distress as he shook his head.

“That’s not what I meant at all, sweet girl,” he murmured, stepping closer and reaching out a hand to you. You took a step back, face guarded as you watched him. He let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair as he regarded you.

“Listen to me,” he said firmly, eyes set in determination as he finished crossing the distance between you two. He made no move to touch you, but you sucked in a breath at the proximity. “I know you think I’ve been using you, but I haven’t. If I wanted to use you, don’t you think I would have gone farther than we ever did? I know what I’m saying may not mean much to you right now, but I swear it, Guppy. I swear on everything that I care about in this world, I was not using you.”

You studied him for a moment, mulling over his words. Perhaps he had a point. If he was using you, surely he would have done a lot more than just hold you? You pressed your lips together firmly, frowning at him.

“I’ll tell you what,” he murmured, eyes shining as they looked at you, “I won’t touch you again unless it’s to protect you or because you want me to.”

Your brow furrowed, frown growing deeper as you regarded him. He swallowed thickly, nodding more to himself than to you.

“I mean it,” he whispered, backing away just a step. “I won’t touch you unless absolutely necessary. When-if you’re ready, I’ll be here.”

Before you could answer, the leaves began to move again, and both of you turned to watch as Javy stepped into the clearing. Jake stiffened next to you, a look of irritation flashing across his face before he schooled them into one of cool indifference.

“What is it, Javy?” He drawled, sounding almost bored as his quarter master glanced between the two of you, a look of knowing mixed with annoyance plastered on his own face.

“You’re going to want to check this out,” he said finally, fixing Jake with a hard look. Jake nodded, looking back at you and gesturing for you to follow as he walked after Javy back towards the beach. You moved to leave, stopping when you heard a strange noise, almost like a song. A shiver ran up your spine as you looked back, dread filling the pit in your stomach as the sound happened again, closer to the beach this time.

“Guppy, let’s go!”

You jumped at the sound of Jake’s stern voice, whirling around and following quickly after the two men.

The men were all gathered in a clearing of trees along the water, a wooden hut on stilts sat above the water, a set of steps leading onto firmer land while another set led directly into the water. You would never have known the structure was there unless you stumbled upon it. The trees hid it from view of the beach, the foliage packed so densely that you had to really push your way through it. You stumbled out onto the other side, Bradley reaching out to steady you as you tripped over a tree root.

You wondered why he never told you that your presence brought him relief like Jake said it did.

Jake inspected the structure, walking along the side of it before looking at Javy.

“Any of you been inside yet?” He asked, frowning at the surrounding men. The quarter master shook his head, hands clasped behind his back as he surveyed the area.

“No,” he answered. “No one has been in yet. I wanted you to be the first to see it.”

Jake nodded, turning his attention back to the group.

“Where’s Benedict and Joshua?” He frowned.

“No one’s seen them since just after we landed,” Javy replied. Jake cursed, shaking his head.

“Alright, let’s check this place out,” he muttered, already heading up the steps. Javy was close behind followed by two more men, then Mickey, then you, and finally Bradley brought up the rear.

“We’ll keep watch out here,” one of the men called out nervously. Jake glanced over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow before shrugging.

“Suit yourself,” he drawled, waving a hand dismissively at them.

The hut was tiny, but still somehow contained item after items along the floors, the shelves, and every other surface that was available. A strange hum filled the air, not unlike what you felt in the clearing when you were with Jake. Several bottles held mysterious items suspended in liquid, and you found yourself clutching onto Bradley, fingers twitching nervously as your heartbeat picked up.

“It looks abandoned,” Mickey muttered, eyeing a spider as it crept across a dusty, old book.

“I wonder who lived here,” you whispered, worried that something might be listening. A floorboard creaked from the far side of the room, and all of you turned to see a haggard-looking woman standing in the doorway. Hands flew to swords, and the woman let out a low chuckle.

“You won’t be needing weapons here, sailors,” she purred, her voice surprisingly pleasant sounding despite her outward appearance. Her hair was matted, crawling down the length of her back in black strands. Her skin was pale like moonlight, skin pulled tight against the bones that lay underneath. Her eyes glinted dangerously in the light, like the eyes of a predator ready to strike at the first opportunity. Despite all of it though, you could see that she had once been a beautiful woman.

“Who the hell are you?” Jake snapped, voice gruff with warning as he glared at her. She flashed him a sharp smile, lips pulled back almost too far as she regarded him with predatory eyes.

“I am one who watches over this place,” she said sweetly, hands gesturing all around her. Javy took a half step forward to stand at Jake’s back.

“Where are we?” Thequarter master asked, eyes hard as they watched the woman glide around the table that occupied the center of the room.

“You find yourselves at the isle where broken hearts go to rest, the poor dears,” she smiled, dark eyes shifting to stare straight at you. You stiffened in your spot next to Bradley, shuffling to try and hide behind him as best you could. The woman’s smile grew even wider, skin stretching in a way that it shouldn’t as her eyes gleamed with excitement.

“Your heart is so heavy,” she crooned, moving towards you, and your hands latched onto the back of Bradley’s shirt as her eyes danced with glee. “You’ll make a fine addition to my brood.”

“Not happening,” Bradley hissed, reaching an arm back to push you further behind him as he puffed out his chest, eyes narrowing at the woman in warning.

“It must be so lonely,” she continued, ignoring Bradley and the way they others shifted around the room, “to know that soon it will be just you who stands in this world. Those around you have fallen, left you for either the hereafter. And soon what you have left will fall to a curse that has nothing to do with you.”

Her words hung heavy in the air, your heart lurching in your chest as the weight of her words hit you, the familiar prickle starting in your eyes as you pressed your lips firmly together.

“That’s not going to happen,” you whispered weakly.

“Oh my sweet girl,” she cooed, reaching a hand out to touch you. “It will. When it does, I will be here to comfort you along with the others.”

“Who are the others?”

Her finger stopped only centimeters from you, her head turning slowly to lock on to Jake who still glared at her. She cocked her head to the side, the smile fading from her face as her features morphed from friendly to cold and calculating.

“Were you not listening?” She rasped, eyes narrowing dangerously. “The ones who live here have all suffered broken hearts.”

“We didn’t see anyone else on the island,” one of the crewman muttered towards Jake, but the woman ignored him. The smile slowly crawled across her face once more, though this was held promise of malice rather than the half-baked attempt at comfort she had given you.

“You are also one who is familiar with disappointment and heartbreak,” she sighed, walking slowly towards the captain. “You almost remind me of my son, the poor boy that he was.”

She stopped when Jake’s jaw clenched, glee returning to her dark eyes as she continued.

“Look at you,” she cooed at him, her saccharine tone sending another wave of chills down your spine. “What would your mother think of you now? The poor, bastard son she raised in his father’s house. Working night and day to earn her place as well as her son’s, your father never once acknowledging you as his own despite his lack of an heir.”

Jake’s nostrils flared as he glared at the woman, her lips curled into a dangerous smile as she let out a low chuckle.

“Your kind, loving mother doing everything she could to protect you from the reality of your situation,” she cooed. “But then she fell ill, didn’t she? And then she passed, and there was no one left to protect the child that you were. You were cast out of the only home you had ever known at only seven years, forced to wander the streets with any scraps you could find as your meals. It wasn’t until that old captain took you under his wing that you had a place to call home again.”

Jake said nothing, but if looks could kill, you were sure the woman would have died ten times over already. The woman clucked at him, smile once again fading, lips turned downward into a disappointed frown.

“Nothing to say about your poor, dead mother, hm?” She taunted, looking mildly put out at his lack of a reaction. Her eyes lit up suddenly, the smile returning once more.

“But that wasn’t your first encounter with heartbreak, was it?” She mused. “Not only have you suffered your own, but you’ve inflicted it on another, haven’t you?”

“Why don’t you mind your own business?” Jake spat, fists clenched at his side, fingers twitching with restraint.

“Broken hearts are my business,” she huffed, eyes slowly shifting back towards you. “Has he ever told you why he was cursed?”

“He slept with the woman that Davy Jones was in love with,” you replied uneasily, glancing at Jake. The color had drained from his face as he watched the woman contort with laughter, the sound echoing through the room as she cackled.

“Is that all he told you?” She grinned, eyes shining wildly.

“Be quiet,” Jake snapped, stepping forward with a warning on his face. Fear ensnared his features.

“Why should I?” The woman grinned. “I think the truth deserved to be spoken. Her story deserves to be told.”

“Please don’t,” Jake begged, eyes darting between you and the woman now. “Please.”

“Davy Jones is not the kind of man to curse another because his affections are spurned,” the woman continued, ignoring the captain. “No, he wouldn’t be so cruel as to curse someone with no just cause. Jones was in love with the woman, yes, but he respected her choice enough to let her run into the arms of the man she had chosen.”

“Stop,” Jake murmured quietly, leaning against the table for support as he hung his head.

“So you do feel shame after all,” the woman cackled, though no humor was laced in her tone. “You know what you did was wrong. You knew she loved you, and like the vain, prideful youth you were, you threw her to the side once you had had your fill. No regards to the love she gave you, nothing in your heart for that woman. Tell me, did you feel anything for her before Davy Jones cursed you? Or is it the curse that made you see the error of your ways?”

“Enough,” he whispered, eyes pressed tightly shut as his shoulders hunched in on himself.

“Or perhaps,” the woman hummed thoughtfully, “it was the moment she threw herself off the cliffs into the water below that changed your heart.”

A/N: Wow, what a reveal! Can't wait to hear what y'all think of that one lol Anyway, gentle reminder that I no longer do tag lists! If you would like to receive notifications on when I post, please follow my sideblog: @sailoraviator-library and turn on post notifications! As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! You can also find me on AO3 under sailor_aviator. Until next time!

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[throneofsapphics]

old faces, part 9

Rowaelin x f!Reader

Summary: you and Rowan meet again, and deal with the fall-out of your secret

Warnings: brief mentions of difficult pregnancy/birth, drinking, mentions of death 

Word Count: ~5.8k

A/N: sorry this one took so long!

series masterlist

Rowan looked for Aelin on instinct, wondering if she’d seen the same thing. On the other side of the ballroom, there was no inclination that she saw a thing. Should he tell her? Maybe. 

A thousand emotions flooded through him; jealousy, hurt, betrayal, confusion, all surpassed by the desire to storm out of there and drag you far, far away from her. At least he had enough self-control to reign himself in. You were well within your rights to … be with whoever you wanted, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. 

Aelin met his eyes. What is it? 

A brief shake of his head, and she frowned - her expression telling him they’d be talking about it later, but dropped it. There’s a time and a place, and now certainly isn’t it. 

Still, he couldn’t stop his own mind from wandering. Where the hell do they go from here?  

He knows better than to think you were doing this to get their attention, but part of him wished you were. At least he’d know then that you wanted them. If anything, you were doing it to put some space between the three of you. 

Was he going to fight for you this time? Did you want him to? Rowan was a tad ashamed he didn’t know the answer. 

-

You ran a finger over your lips. They were bruised but not from who you really wanted. 

You did this. Took the small blossom of hope, and crushed it. The small spark of happiness terrified you enough you had to destroy it. You didn’t belong to them, and you knew that, but any chances of it repeating itself were gone. It would’ve ended in flames anyway. This was you protecting yourself. 

The more you played with the thought in your mind, letting it repeat itself until the words sounded strange, the less you believed it. 

Maybe everyone would hate you, and maybe you’d deserve it. Space. You needed to put distance between yourself and the others. It was for the better, of course. Maybe Rowan and Aelin would never speak to you again beyond what was necessary. Sure, it would hurt, but less than having your heart ripped out. 

Coward. 

Pressing your forehead against the stone, steadying your breathing, you tried to get the word out of your mind, tried to clear your head of any thoughts. It didn’t work. 

Running your hands over the gauzy fabric of your dress, you straightened it enough to look presentable. Rolling your shoulders, twisting your neck until you felt a rather satisfying pop, you put one foot in front of the other, the only goal making it to your rooms. At least Ceri was spending the night with Evangeline.

Hopefully nobody would comment on your early exit. You didn’t care. Right now, you needed to get the hell away from there, drink some water, and sleep this off. What are the odds you could avoid this for the next week? Part of you tried to convince yourself you were making a big deal out of something inconsequential, and that they might not have noticed. Sleep came easier than it should’ve, but you took the small win where you could. 

A small buzzing sound woke you, and you darted upright in bed, eyes alert and scanning. You relaxed at the hauntingly familiar magic, before memories of the previous night woke you and you tensed again, every muscle locking and on alert. 

It’s too damn early for this. 

Glancing at the window, the sun had just begun to peak over the horizon. 

Swinging your legs over, feet hitting the soft carpet, you snatched a robe and wrapped it around yourself. Despite springtime, an early chill still set in. The sounds of fire crackling hit you, the small wave of magic comforting of all things. Breathing in through your nose, out through your mouth, you strided for the door, hoping your posture portrayed some semblance of confidence. 

“You’re up awfully early,” you commented. Aelin groaned, sprawled out over your couch, arm covering her eyes as if the faint light pained her.  Rowan leaned against the wall next to the fireplace. He was tense, she was relaxed. One of them knew. 

Tea. Tea first. 

Wordlessly, you blew past them towards the small stove and kettle, busying your hands. Three mugs. 

Minutes later, you handed one to Aelin, an appreciative smile crossing her face, before her nostrils flared. 

“I thought I saw you dancing with a witch,” she huffed. There was nothing … accusatory in her voice. You forced a smile onto your face. 

“Your eyes are still working.” 

“More than dance.” 

You might kill Rowan later. Aelin’s head tilted, gaze darting from you to Rowan, but you took a few steps away, hands clenching the mug, chin tilting up, focusing on the male, eyes glittering with defiance. 

A shrug of your shoulders, and you took your place at your favorite armchair. 

The flash of anger in Rowan’s eyes amused you. He came here for a fight, but he wouldn’t get one out of you. Had he spied on you last night? Followed you out to the garden?

Despite the drunken turmoil raging in your mind last night, your head had cleared and you knew a few things; you’d done nothing wrong, and you didn’t answer to them. 

Aelin straightened, “what do you mean more?” 

She looked at you for an answer. On one side, you could let them make their own assumptions, or you could tell them what happened in plain words. You didn’t get the chance. 

In a blink, Rowan was in front of you, his hands gripping your forearms, mug clattering to the floor. One hand twined in the back of your hair, tugging your lips to his. His kiss is brutal - claiming, consuming, and territorial. The last thought sealed it for you. 

You don’t belong to anyone,’ Fenrys’s words popped into your mind, and you ignored the irony of thinking about him when Rowan’s lips are on your own. Shoving his chest, you managed to push yourself a few steps back, he didn’t budge one inch. 

“What is your problem?” Your breathing was heavy, lips already bruised. 

“You’re my problem.” 

“Oh,” you rolled your eyes, ignoring the faint buzzing in your ears, “that’s what every female wants to hear.” 

His hand gripped your arm again, “what do you want to hear?” A brief pause, and his mouth opened as if he was going to say something else, but the door flung open.  

“Thought I might find you in here,” Lysandra chirps and strolls into the room - either oblivious to the situation, or purposefully ignoring it. Rowan took a step back, eyes still narrowed on you. “The girls are still asleep,” Lysandra continued, striding for the couch Aelin was currently occupying, shoving her friends' legs aside and ignoring the snarl that might’ve sent a rational person running. “Did I miss something?” False innocence laced her voice. 

When Rowan and Aelin slipped into one of their silent conversations, she shot a wink your way. Because she knew what happened? Or because she’d caught you in a rather … compromising position?

A hiss. You blinked. Halle was winding between your legs - hissing at Rowan. The male broke eye contact with Aelin, glancing at the cat with a stony expression. Hackles still risen, she didn’t back down. 

This was too much. Not now, you couldn’t do this now. Standing abruptly, you threw some excuse out before retreating to your bedroom, ignoring the eyes digging into your back. Fur brushed against your calf, and you thanked the Gods for bringing this little creature into your life. It was a strange connection, but you knew she had your back. 

-

“What the hell happened?” Lysandra asked. 

Aelin stopped glaring at Rowan long enough to look at her best friend. The shifter raised one brow, and she looked back to her mate. 

“What do we tell her?”

“It’s none of her business.” It really isn’t, but she needs someone who’s not him to talk about this with. “Tell her what you want,” Rowan’s eyes conveyed an air of exasperation. 

“It’s weird when you do that,” Lysandra commented. 

“And you sound like my cousin,” Aelin snapped back, finally breaking her connection with Rowan. 

“Is that supposed to be an insult?” 

Aelin huffed and stood, linking her arm through Lysandra’s and dragging the woman with her. Looking over her shoulder, Rowan was staring at your bedroom door. 

“Rowan, I’m sure you’re needed somewhere,” she called. Maybe he was, maybe he wasn’t, but this is the last place he needs to be right now. The three of you need time, and Aelin needs to wake up enough to figure out what the hell happened between last night and the last few minutes. Barely audible footsteps sounded behind them, Rowan slipping out the door right after. 

As it shut, magic slammed and barricaded behind her. Dropping Lysandra’s arm, she pivoted to gaze at the door. Locked out. There’s no way she’d get in without your explicit permission - that or one of them tearing down the shields, and gods know how long that could take. Her throat bobbed, and Rowan was glaring at the nearly imperceptible shimmer. 

Lysandra’s warm hand closed around her own, “we need to talk,” and led her back to her rooms. From the corner of her eye, she saw Rowan head towards a window. 

The conversation with Lysandra left her … reeling. In honesty, Aelin didn’t know what to think of the situation. Blindsided, yes, but was it really a betrayal If you weren’t with them? You were well in your rights to fuck whoever you wanted, but she still felt a bit hurt, maybe like she wasn’t enough. 

Aelin hadn’t dealt with this kind of insecurity ever, or at least since she can remember. 

Combined with Rowan’s little show, and your reaction, this was a mess, and that’s what she was trying to avoid. She didn’t like to admit it, but Rowan knew you better, he’d have an idea of what the hell that was about - if it was anything - once he had time to calm down. Then again … you hadn’t exactly reacted well to him. She ran a hand through her hair, tugging at the golden strands. This was not how she thought her morning would go. 

The timing was inconvenient. Glancing at the clock, it was nearly noon. Tomorrow morning, negotiations and meetings would start, and there certainly wouldn’t be any time to discuss this or figure out where they stood with you throughout the week.  

Rowan’s magic hit her a second before the door swung open. She didn’t need to look at him to know he was still pissed. Sure enough, pine green eyes were filled with ire. Sitting next to her, he braced his forearms on his thighs, gaze fixed on the wall ahead of them. 

“Are we going to talk about it?” She studied his profile. Clenched jaw, narrowed eyes, chest rising and falling at a too perfect rhythm. 

“She’s a coward.” 

That, she didn’t expect. 

“Explain,” Aelin prompted. He looked at her, as if to eyes saying ‘isn’t it obvious?’, she ignored and waited for him to speak. 

“She’s scared.”

The clipped answers weren’t going to cut it this time. “Actually explain it,” she didn’t bother keeping the annoyance out of her voice. 

“She’s scared of getting close again. Too damn independent and stubborn to admit she actually wants us.”

-

“I want it,” you admitted to Fenrys, “but it’s not going to end well. I can’t put myself through that.” 

“You haven’t actually tried,” he was trying to keep the exasperation out of his voice, and you appreciated the effort - even if it fell flat. 

As if he knew you were brooding, he’d shown up and banged on your bedroom door until you came out. 

Pausing for a moment, you replayed the events of the previous night in your head. 

‘Remember to have fun. Remember you don’t belong to anyone,’ Fenrys looped his arm through yours. 

“I should blame this on you,” you jabbed an elbow into his side. His shoulders rose and fell. “You’re the one who’s trying to stir something up.” 

A half smirk on his face, but you knew he wouldn’t actually admit it - not yet. Out of character for the asshole, he was waiting for you to keep speaking. 

“Is it immature if I avoid them until the week is over?” You finally asked. 

“Maybe,” a trace of amusement found its way into his voice.

“He told me I'm his problem,” you huffed. A problem is the last thing you wanted to be. 

“It’s not the way you think,” Fenrys snorted. This morning, all Rowan did was make it obvious he either wants you or thinks he has some kind of claim over you. Aelin … you weren’t really certain where she stood, or if she actually knew what happened last night. You assumed she does by now. Assumed that Rowan’s relayed the events in the worst possible way. It had been a few hours, you took the time to try and compose yourself, to calm your racing mind - it didn’t work well, and Fenrys showed up to get the full scoop from last night. To your surprise, he hadn’t known anything, but you were in the mood to talk so you’d relayed the whole story. 

He, Evangeline, and Ceri were currently the only people your wards allowed through without your approval. 

“Aren’t you going to ask me to explain?” He followed up. 

“No. You’ll do it anyway.” 

A small buzzing sound told you someone was nearby. Jasmine and lemon verbena hit a moment later. Alone. Just Aelin. 

There wasn’t any point in trying to keep her out, and you bent the magic enough to let her through. There was no hesitation as the door swung open and she strode through. Like she would’ve on any other day. Like you hadn’t just shut them out for the first time in months. Not that you were searching for one, definitely not. 

One pointed look from her, and Fenrys left, sending a wince your way. That should’ve been enough of a warning sign. She settled on a chair across from you, looking every bit a Queen. Halle jumped up from your lap, crouching in front of your feet instead, tail swishing back and forth, hitting your ankles with each pass. Effectively, she’d put herself between the two of you. A barrier. It unnerved you, that your cat thought they might be some kind of threat. Aelin glanced at her, holding the cat’s gaze for a moment, before her eyes returned to you. 

“Is this a joke to you?”

“Excuse me,” you straightened, spine stiffening. 

“The way we feel about you. We’ve made it obvious. Tell me now if it is, I don’t like being made a fool.” There was a coldness in her, a sharpness in her tone you hadn’t heard directed at you. 

The easy thing to do would be to cow, to bend, to appease, but you were sick of doing that. 

“I don’t belong to anyone,” you kept a quiet confidence in your voice, somehow meeting her eyes. 

“Is this some kind of test?” You’d always been good at reading people, and those years of observation came through. Aelin was hurt, yes, but there was a tinge of insecurity. 

“No.” 

“Then what is it?” 

Honesty, honesty, honesty, you chanted in your mind. 

“This won’t end well,” you swallowed, “and I can’t put myself through that.”

A harsh laugh. “You haven’t even tried. We haven’t tried,” Aelin ran a hand over her hair, smoothing it. “Maybe Rowan’s right about you being a coward.” 

This time, you laughed - the sound harsh to your ears. Not a laugh of joy - of disbelief. She’d been paying attention to Rowan, then. Figuring out exactly what words would get a reaction out of you, would light a fire under your ass. Halle hadn’t reacted, and maybe it made you insane but you knew you were still safe somehow - that even your cat was still weighing the situation. 

“I prefer to call it self-preservation,” you said coolly, even as anger rose in you. Her eyes flashed, mouth turning up at one corner, gone before you could fully register it. She knew what was brewing in you, even as you tried to hide it. 

“Why are you fighting it?” 

Aelin was good. Her questions and words threw you off, darting in different directions and testing different angels. A dormant part of you stirred, thrilled at the challenge.

“It’s not that easy.” 

“We want you, you want us,” she countered. “That’s pretty simple to me.” 

You shook your head. 

“Is it what others think?” Aelin prompted, her expression told you she’d have choice words or flames for anyone who tried to judge. 

“It’s not,” you admitted. She watched expectantly, waiting for you to explain. 

In that moment, you realized something crucial. Aelin was fighting for you. 

Embarrassingly, you burst into fucking tears. 

-

Just as Aelin thought you might finally explain what the hell was going through your mind, just as she saw the cracks form, you started crying and they crumbled. 

Without thinking, she instantly rose, making her way across the room, one eye on your cat. When she wasn’t attacked, she pressed herself against your side, arms wrapping around your shoulders and tugging you into her. Halle padded off, and maybe she needed more caffeine, because she could’ve sworn the cat disappeared into the shadows. 

Was it something she said? The ‘coward’ comment was a bit harsh, and not entirely true, but she didn’t think that was it. These didn’t seem like tears of rage or sadness. Not knowing set her on edge, and all she wanted was to start pestering you for answers, but a semblance of awareness kept her mouth shut, and kept her arms around you. Right now, even with the mess, you were leaning into her, trusting her, letting yourself get whatever release this was, and she’d take it. 

One arm around your shoulders, your head buried into her side, fingers running through your hair, she waited until the tears subsided, and then a while longer before speaking. 

“What was that about?” 

You hesitated, and she watched you weigh your answer.. She’d know if you were lying, and mentally begged for you to tell her the truth. 

“I could be wrong,” you kept your voice barely above a whisper, “but it seems like you’re fighting for me.”

Her hand stilled, before she moved enough to see your face. Tears still staining your face, eyes wide, cheeks flushed, she’d never seen you look this vulnerable. “Of course I am.” 

In that moment, Aelin realized something crucial. Rowan hadn’t fought for you, and whether you knew it or not it was still stuck in your subconscious, still keeping you from diving into this. This wasn’t simple, not at all, but she doubted she could get the two of you to come to a consensus by the end of the day. A truce. There needed to be some kind of middle ground, or mutual understanding - something to keep everything at bay for now. 

“It’s not simple,” Aelin said, feeling more than hearing you stifle laughter. Ignoring the satisfaction currently rolling off you in waves, she continued  “We want you, you want us,” you stiffened, but didn’t pull away. “There’s not enough time to figure this out today.” She ran her thumb back and forth over your shoulder, the fabric thin enough she felt the heat of your skin. 

“There’s not,” you replied, slowly. 

“What if we leave it at that, and promise to talk about it after the week is over?” 

You were quiet, long enough she began to doubt herself. Gods, you might be the only person who could drag out this kind of uncertainty in her and she might start cursing you for it. 

“Alright … just keep the territorial fae bullshit at bay.” 

A genuine laugh came right from her chest. That second portion was definitely intended to reach Rowan’s ears, and she’d take great pleasure in relaying the message word for word. Messenger. Not a role she’d take on permanently, but she’d do it for now to keep the peace. Based on this morning’s interaction, Aelin got the sense it was better for you and Rowan to wait until after the week’s over to talk any of this through. 

-

Arrangements had already been made for Ceri to stay in the castle throughout the week. You’d refused, and were grateful for it. Space was good, even if you’d come to some kind of understanding with Aelin. After the week, you wouldn’t just roll over on your belly for them. Nothing would bloom overnight, you’d take the time and test if it might actually work, and trust your gut. The three of you were immortal, time was plentiful

Rowan’s reaction - even if it was hot, even if you’d replayed the moment in your mind a few times, still pissed you off. The two of you needed time to cool your heads, to breathe, and Aelin had picked up on that. Ideally, it would’ve been just two or three days, but circumstances prevented that. Hopefully, your advisor role would keep you busy enough throughout the week to keep your mind off of them, or at least to provide a bit of distraction. Gods know you need that right now for your sanity.. 

You’d already told Ceri you’d see her tomorrow, and she’d gone off with Aelin and Rowan for ‘royal duties.’ You didn’t envy her. 

Hands braced on your balcony, you saw the city bustling with excitement. After mid-day, several members of the foreign delegations took to the streets, and markets were in full bloom to sell their wares. You wondered if any of your items would make it into foreign hands. Shaking the thought, you debated whether or not you’d actually make the walk through the city. 

The last thing you wanted right now was to run into anyone you might know from your past, and although you hadn’t spotted anyone last night, you’d been regretfully distracted. 

Taking a few back passages, you made your way to a shadowed corner on the first floor before shifting. This was a risk on its own, especially if you ran into anyone from the southern continent, but, you’d move quicker this way. 

Stretching, you tested out the form. It had been a while since you’d shifted. Maybe a week or two. Feline senses were sharper, emotions were clear and simple, and you embraced it.

Blending into the shadows, not a soul recognized you as you made your way through the city. Thanks to the strange magic, the normal half hour walk - likely closer to three quarters an hour with the crowd, took about ten minutes. You spent the rest of the day touching up on notes, rearranging your books, and mentally running through questions you might be asked, before falling into an uneasy sleep. 

Day one, you were summoned twice. 

Day two, the Court predicted you’d be called in several times - so you’d shown up at the castle to wait around. Better than making the walk back and forth. Sure enough, you were called into several that day, speaking to so many people your mind was frazzled by the end, and after a glass of wine you fell into an easy sleep. 

Day three, you only came around midday to check in on Ceri, but an old face caught up with you.  

“Y/n,” a gentle but firm voice called as you attempted to retreat down the hall. It was … familiar. 

Pasting an ease-going smile on your face, you turned back to see Yrene Towers - now Yrene Westfall.  

“Hello,” you called - the smile turning genuine. You wondered if she remembered you, and part of you hoped she didn’t. She’d delivered your child after all, and that had been traumatic enough to keep you from ever getting pregnant again. Fae births were notoriously difficult, and you were no exception. 

Her husband was a few feet behind, eyeing you warily, as she closed the distance. 

“You’re doing well,” she paused a few feet ahead. She did remember. 

“Much thanks to you,” you admitted. 

“I was quite junior back then,” her mouth turned up at the corner, and she cleared her throat. “I met your … cat, the other day.” 

It was a lot of effort to keep yourself still, to keep your reactions schooled pleasant. “Halle.” 

She smiled. “How did she end up here?” 

Of course she’d know Halle was part baast-cat, and be curious about it. They rarely ever left the Torre library, as far as you knew, or mixed with other cats. 

“She showed up one day.” The truth sounded quite ridiculous coming from your lips. Her brows rose. “It surprised me.” 

She nodded, more to herself. At least she believed you.

“How do you find Terrasen?” 

“I love it here, even with the weather.”

A laugh left her, and you found yourself smiling. You’d seen the healer several times when she still lived in Antica, and she was always kind. If you guessed correctly, you’d arrived around the same time. 

“Years later, even Adarlan feels freezing.”

“Compared to Antica, everywhere is.” 

You fell into easy conversation, reminiscence. It didn’t draw any homesickness for you. Maybe a desire to visit again, but not to move back there. Should it have? That was a question to ponder later. The longer the conversation went on, the more discomfort settled in you. The questions and direction turned more personal. Not too invasive, or rude by social standards, but you’d always been a particularly private person for a reason. 

Footsteps, quiet your company didn’t notice, and your eyes flicked behind her, finding Aedion striding up the corridor, and he met your eyes, a brief nod. 

“Y/n,” he called as he got closer. “You’re wanted.” 

Teeth tugged at your bottom lip, fighting back a snarky remark. “It was good to see you,” you told her, nodding towards Chaol, and stepped around them, Aedion falling into step beside you. 

“Wanted by who?” You waited until you were out of human hearing range. 

“By many, I'm sure.” He grinned at your glare. “You just looked like you needed a rescue.” 

Chuckling, you ran your hand down your face, relieved there wasn’t actually anyone requesting you, and grateful he’d shown up. “Thank you.” 

“Everything alright?” 

“Just a lot of questions,” you muttered. 

Aedion snorted, “I thought you’d be used to that by now,” and ignored the jab of your elbow. Yes, you’d been grilled during every meeting, but that was different. Actually, you’d enjoyed it - sharing your knowledge. Personal questions were different. 

Voices came, speaking Halha, nearly rounding the corner - several paces down but they’d see you in moments. Gods, that’s the last thing you need. 

Aedion grabbed the crook of your elbow, shoving the two of you through a door you hadn’t seen, right into a servants passage. A hand over your mouth muffled your own squeak of surprise. He jerked his head, and you followed him - cobwebs in some of the corners. Apparently this one hadn’t been used in quite some time. 

“I know this castle well,” he said, taking a left. “Not many use this passage anymore. Or know it exists.”  Based on the thick layer of dust, it had probably been a few years since anyone walked through here. “I trust you to keep the secret,” a half-smile sent your way, over his shoulder. 

It didn’t come out quite like a threat, maybe more of a warning. Not many know of it, and he’d like to keep it that way. 

“I’ll keep it to myself,” you promised, but knew you’d be back to explore through them another time. Nothing about the promise said you couldn’t go back. 

“I’m ready for this week to be over,” Aedion admitted, holding the door open for you, exiting close to one of the private gardens, right near the back of the castle. 

“So am I,” you added absentmindedly. Not really, you really weren’t. The end of this week meant you’d be facing a different type of meeting - one you were still wholly unprepared for, despite writing lists of the things you want to say. The hardest part would be sticking to your boundaries, but with the help of your lists and maybe some liquid courage you could do it.  

The week was nearly over before you knew it, the second to last day arrived and everything went too smoothly, and you felt like you were constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

-

“May I speak with you?” A male with soft brown eyes, tanned skin, and light hair asked politely. 

“Of course,” you tried not to grimace, the morning hadn’t gotten off to a great start. This was your job, after all, to answer any kind of questions that might pop up. He tilted his head to the side, motioning towards a more secluded area - a garden. Against better judgment, you followed. Once you were partially obscured from view, he stopped. Too hidden. The hair on the back of your neck rose.  

He shifted from one foot to the other, glancing up at the sky. Annoyed, you pursed your lips - ready to ask what the fuck he wanted (you’d spilt your tea this morning and not had time to make another cup), but his mouth opened.  

“You are quite difficult to find,” his smile wasn’t genuine, nor was the statement entirely true. 

“I’m always here,” you countered, not bothering to hide the snappish tone You’ve been ‘on-call’ this entire week. 

“Well, to find alone,” he corrected, both hands up in a placating gesture, “not in a creepy way, I promise.” 

Bullshit. You’d bet gold he hoped that was a reassuring or disarming smile. His nostrils flared when you didn’t reply to him, didn’t assure him you found it perfectly normal - you didn’t, and placating a male wasn’t on your to-do list for the day. 

“There’s an artifact we’re looking to track down, we could use your expertise.” 

This quickly treaded into dangerous territory, and he had a glint in his eyes. The male was Akkadian, a nation that used to ally closely with Maeve. The fact that they had a delegation here, told you they weren’t a large threat to Terrasen, but everything about this situation felt wrong. 

Every warning sense inside of you flared, telling you you shouldn’t be alone with him, shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t entertain this. Your magic subtly tested the area, and felt no-one familiar nearby. Fuck. You were capable on your own, but a likely centuries old Fae warrior was before you. 

“I’m afraid that’s not in my skill set,” you said, “but I’d be happy to guide you towards some resources.” 

“I thought it was in your blood,” his mouth curved into a half-smile - like he thought he’d trapped you somehow.“ I’d recognize one of you anywhere.” 

Like an actor slipping into a role, you let puzzlement fill your features, “I beg your pardon?” 

He pinned a look with you, like you were being annoyingly obtuse. He wasn’t wrong, but you wouldn’t let him get away with vague statements or threats. 

“One of your ancestors' creations,” the way he said the word stiffened your spine, “is in circulation, causing some problems.” 

“Consequences can pass through time and generations,” he said quietly, poking at the fire. “If someone seeks you out, asks you to find or create something, treat it with caution.” The words seemed to pain him. “Not all will have bad intentions, but even the best intentions can be skewed by greed.” He reached into his pack, flipping a dagger so the hilt faced you, and pressed it into your palm. You felt the magic immediately, and your jaw dropped. The runes and wyrdmarks were intricate. “Here’s a new lesson,” you perked up. “Take that, make it so only you can use it properly.” 

“Thank you,” it was a gift - really, that he trusted you with the object. 

“If you find another,” a creased but strong hand gripped yours tightly, you fought back a wince. “Promise me you’ll destroy it.”

Gripping the hilt tightly, feeling the magic flow again, a shiver ran down your spine and you swore an oath you would. Relief flooded his features. 

Blinking back to the present, he had an expectant look on his face. Instinct told you he wanted this personally. If it was a state matter, there would’ve been others here to discuss it. Sure, you’d like more details, to ask more probing questions, but that would give you away. Right now, he was looking for confirmation and you couldn’t give that. A small thread tugged at you, a female voice whispering in your ear, leave. 

“I don’t know what you’re speaking of,” not a lie - you really didn’t, “but as I said, I’d be happy to guide you towards some resources.” His lip curled back, but you didn’t give him a chance to reply. “I’m expected,” your voice was confident and firm. “Let me know if you’d like me to put some notes together.” 

You stepped around him, striding as quickly as you could without running. Maybe you’d taken him by surprise, because several seconds passed before you heard footsteps following. 

Taking a sharp turn, you shifted and melted into the shadows. 

Weaving through corridors, you found no peace until you had eyes on Ceri, finding Halle already curled next to her, eyes alert. The clock struck noon, and you watched a few more seconds - taking notes of the guards in presence, the sense of danger and panic ebbing away, before heading to the meeting you were now late for. 

-

Vastly out of character, you’d shown up a few minutes after the intended starting time. Others were late, of course, but as long as he’d known you you’d always been early. Face pale and drawn, Rowan knew something was wrong. Scanning you, there weren’t any physical injuries. You were avoiding his gaze, not that you’d done much looking at each other throughout the week, but now it felt especially pointed. 

Someone drew you into conversation, and he watched as a mask slid into place, few others would notice something was actually wrong. He nearly snarled at Fenrys when he tapped his shoulder, but the other male jerked his head towards the meeting room. At least you’d be in this one, where he could keep a discreet eye on you. 

“Make sure y/n doesn’t leave after, something’s wrong,” he told Fenrys under his breath, an order. 

The male stiffened next to him, and nodded. He watched onyx eyes trail over to you, before narrowing. You two had an easy-going friendship, and Rowan knew Fenrys was protective over you, just as you were over him. He hated it, but Fenrys was the best person to find out what’s actually wrong. 

-

taglist: @holb32 @fussel9913 @moonlightttfae @cassianswh0reeee, @reidishh, @shanias-world @fightmedraco @goldenmagnolias @hannzoaks @jennamelinda12 @daughterofthemoons-stuff

#rowaelin x reader #poly!rowaelin x reader #throne of glass fic #rowan whitethorn x reader #aelin galathynius x reader #rowaelin x y/n #poly!rowaelin x y/n #throne of glass x reader #rowan whitethorn x y/n #aelin galathynius x y/n

[ghostboneswrites2]

A Mess || Part 5

New account! @ghostbones was banned! Transferring everything here starting with this series since it was the most popular!

Summary: Grief and a blend of confusing emotions overcomes you. It takes a while but you overcome it, with the help of one of Daryl's signature, oh-so-comforting pep talks (/s). Daryl takes some advice from Carol and executes it poorly, to say the least.

18+ MDNI || WARNINGS: profanity, descriptions of grief / loss, Daryl is kinda dumb

        There was a loud ringing in your ears. After everything that had happened -- the fire, the walkers, the agonized screams, the rotting stench -- nothing could have prepared you for those words.

        "I killed my best friend for you people."

        Shane was indeed a hotheaded ass-wipe. His behavior had only grown more erratic in the last few weeks. But still, those words knocked the breath out of you. It was like Rick's voice reached inside your head and plucked every single thought out of your brain. There wasn't a single one flowing, only the image of Shane's dead body lying in the grass somewhere. 

        The man who you'd been with since you had just got out of high school. He paid for everything. He clothed you, fed you, held you at night, planted sweet kisses all over you when you were ad at him because he knew you couldn't resist his apologies. Surely that man was dead long before he was killed. The man Rick killed hurt you in more ways than one, both emotionally and physically. 

        What were you feeling? Why? How were you supposed to cope? You wished Rick would have just lied. A walker got him, maybe even a wild boar. But this? It was too much.

        You looked catatonic to everyone around you, sitting in some stone ruins around a campfire. You were off to the side, too far to enjoy the heat of the flame. The cold didn't even seem to phase you. The others were grumbling about whether or not to keep following Rick but you were in another world, another dimension.

        You weren't mourning, or maybe you were? Could you even feel anything? You ripped your eyes away from the random stone you had been mindlessly fixated on and looked over the remaining survivors from the farm. Most of them just looked bewildered and traumatized. Daryl was sitting by Carol talking about something, though he'd sneak a glance your way every now and then. Lori was cradling Carl. She didn't take the news so well either, though it seemed to be for different reasons.

        You took in a deep breath, the kind that filled your lungs so much it hurt, and pushed it back out. You couldn't feel anything inside. Outside was all a blur. How were you supposed to feel? You life had been uprooted and changed overnight, and somehow this just seemed to do that all over again.

        Rick crouched in front of you, gaging your state as he handed you a jacket. "It's getting cold." He told you.

        You slowly accepted the jacket and stared him in the eyes. He seemed regretful and angry. You were sure he didn't want to do what he did. Shane had a way of pushing people until they tipped over the edge and shattered on the ground. 

        "Yeah." You croaked.

        "I'm sorry." Rick said. "I didn't want to do it, but he was gonna kill me first."

        You gulped. You believed him, but it was hard to talk to him.

        "Okay." You nodded. He nodded back and stood up.

        You slid the jacket on over your thin tee. It didn't seem to make a difference. Warm or cold, day or night, awake or asleep, the days blended together from that point forward and it all felt the same. You didn't know what to call it. A depression?  A loss of direction? A disconnect? Dissociation?

        Weeks went by on the road. Most people didn't speak to you, and if they did there was an annoying sympathetic tone behind it. You hated it. You weren't a widow. It was over before it ended.

        Then the prison came along. It wasn't so hard to take it for yourselves, though couple of people were lost along the way. When Lori died, Rick checked out. Beth usually took over with Judith. You distanced yourself from the little thing. You were supposed to have one, once upon a time, in another life. 

        As the days got warmer, you felt more alive. One day in particular you felt a wave of relief was over you. It was refreshing, even if you couldn't pinpoint the source. You got out of bed that day and went straight out to the courtyard. There, when you found a corner to yourself where nobody could bother you, you laid flat out on the grass and stared up at the sky. Thin, wispy clouds fluttered over an otherwise clear blue canvas. The grass smelled sweat, even if it was itchy underneath you. Occasionally you'd see a little bug speed over or a bird flapping up high. Somehow things felt peaceful, a much needed juxtaposition to the previously dreary days and nights painted in gray.

        "Hey." That familiar rasp sounded from above your head. You looked upward, Daryl's figure towering over you.

        "Hey." You said. Your voice sounded sweet and calm, though still a bit melancholy. It was better, to him, than the empty monotone way you had been speaking, when you did speak.

        "'M goin' on a run. Comin'?"

        "Okay." Was all you said. You pushed yourself up off the ground and onto your feet. He handed you a bag with some basic supplies for a day trip. When you had the straps secured over your shouldered he offered you a knife and a gun and led you to the gates.

        Carl, the now motherless child, pulled the gates open and shut them behind you both. He took you in a car to the nearest town, pulling straight up to a small store. He turned off the car but he didn't get out. Instead he looked you over, chewing at his cheeks as he sifted through the sea of thoughts in his head to find the right words.

        "Y'alright?" He finally asked. He hadn't spoken to you much since the farm fell. He thought you'd need space to grieve and process, and you did, but he also just didn't know how to be there for you in a time like that. He was too checked out himself.

        "I'm alive." You shrugged, eyes fixated on the dash. It seemed to become a habit nowadays, never really focusing on one thing or another. Your stare was always blank and it never focused on anything or anyone, just whatever blank space was between them and you.

        "That ain't what I mean."

        "What do you want me to say? I'm here. I'm fine." You insisted.

        "No ya ain't"

        You pressed your lips together and nodded.

        "I don't know." You answered truthfully. "Feels wrong to be sad and it feels wrong to move on."

        "Yeah." He nodded. "It ain't wrong to do neither."

        "I just don't know what to do with myself." You mumbled. "I try to make myself useful but Rick can barely look me in the eyes to give me a job on any given day. Everyone else looks at me like an injured puppy."

        "They don't know what to say. That's all." He assured you.

        "Well neither the fuck do I." 

        "Ya just can't let yourself die with him." He said. "It's okay that ya loved him. It's okay that ya hated him too."

----

        Another sleepless night tormented you. Instead of flopping around in bed and probably keeping the surrounding cell dwellers awake all night you decided to go walk around the courtyard. It had to be better than the alternative, right? 

        The stars were so bright nowadays. You spent a lot of nights staring up at them with wonder. One of the few things that were actually better after the end of the world.

        "Need a smoke?" Daryl offered. You jumped. You didn't even hear him walk up. Good thing he wasn't a walker or you'd be done for.

        "Not a smoker." You declined.

        "Me neither." He said sarcastically as he lit his own. You huffed a little laugh and shook your head, looking back up to the stars. 

        "The little dipper's out tonight." You said.

        "What about the big one?"

        "I dunno." You shrugged. "I'm sure it's up there somewhere."

        "How do you even find shit like that? Just looks like a bunch o' holes poked in a box."

        "It's the only one I know." You admitted. "For all I know, that's the big one and I've never seen the little one."

        "Waste o' time." He said. 

        "Stars are pretty. So are clouds."

        "Clouds?" He tilted his head.

        "Yeah. You know, like when the sun starts to set and they turn pink and orange? It looks like a painting. Life imitates art, and all."

        "Thought that was the other way around." He commented. You shrugged.

        "All about perspective, I suppose."

        "Nah, it ain't. Life just is what it is." He shook his head. "Can't get caught up with philosophy and lookin' for a deeper meanin'."

        "Actualism is no fun, Daryl. Humor me." You rolled your eyes.

        "Alright." He nodded. "What about the walkers?""

        "What about them?"

        "Life imitates art. What the hell are them things imitatin'?"

        "That's death." You corrected. "Death imitating life."

        "Right." He scoffed, flicking the ash of his cigarette as he took another drag. You sighed.

        "I'm not saying everything happens for a reason, or that terrible things have some kind of deeper reason or symbolism." You shook your head. "I just don't see the problem with searching for the beauty in the little things."

        "Everything ain't beautiful." He said.

        "No, everything isn't. But some things are. Like Beth's voice and her blonde hair, or the bright green leaves in the trees, or the way the vines grow over old houses, or the way Maggie's face lights up when she sees Glenn, or..." You thought for a moment. "Or even you, Daryl."

        He pushed his eyebrows together and chuckled.

        "Now you're just talkin' out your ass."

        "No." You shook your head. "You have pretty eyes."

        "You hittin' on me, girl?"

        "I'm not not hitting on you."

        "I ain't rebound dick, remember?"

        "I'm a widow now, asshole. You don't rebound from that. You just move on."

        "So, that's what I am? Your next move?" He asked.

        "No. Don't be so black-and-white. I just like you. That's all. You're not a rebound or the next square on a checker board. Plus, that'd be too easy. I play chess. Not checkers." You winked as you took his cigarette and stole the last drag before tossing the butt away.

        "Those things'll kill ya." He glared.

        "So will the sun in large doses." You reasoned.

        "Yeah, you ain't gotta worry 'bout that. You see less sun than my bare ass." He teased.

        "And your neck's redder than my blood, bow-boy." You retorted.

        "It's bowman." He corrected.

        "Tomato, to-mah-to." You waved him off. 

        "You got a real slick mouth, ya know that?"

----

        The next morning was especially sweltering. Not a cloud in the sky, only a blazing yellow sphere and the ring of cicadas.

        "So, how's (Y/N)?" Carol asked Daryl as they walked the perimeter of the fences. "I saw you two talking last night." Daryl gave her a questioning look. "I was on watch." She clarified. He nodded.

        "She'll be alright."

        "Losin' a husband's hard." Carol sympathized. "Even when they didn't deserve you."

        "You think you could move on from Ed?" He asked.

        "I don't know." She pondered. "I mean, eventually I guess. Can't picture myself getting that attached so easily. Not with things how they are."

        "Mm." Daryl hummed thoughtfully.

        "Why? She got her eyes on someone?" Carol pressed.

        "Nah." He shook his head, then he shrugged. "I mean, maybe. I dunno."

        "Well what did she say?"

        "Just that... It's stupid."

        "Tell me." She chuckled, pushing her shoulder into his arm playfully.

        "She... said I got pretty eyes."

        Carol raised her eyebrows.

        "And what did you say?"

        "Wha'd'ya mean?"

        "I mean what did you say to that?"

        "Asked her if she was hittin' on me." He said. She shook her head and pinched the bridge of her nose, laughing under her breath. "What?" He asked.

        "Come on. You can't be that clueless. You really have no game?" She chuckled. 

        "Don't need no game." He said. "She don't want that. She's just workin' through shit."

        "You're a lost cause." She laughed. "Please tell me you at least said something nice."

        Daryl was silent. Had he said anything nice? Sure he did. He was always nice to you, at least most of the time.

        "Jesus." Carol sighed. "Good luck."

        With that, she patted him on the shoulder and walked away. He leaned on the interior fence and watched her go. As he looked around the courtyard her noticed you working on the exterior fence, stabbing walkers with a broken rake handle.

        With little extra thought, he strode over to the first gate and walked between the fences to where you worked.

        "Hey." He said. You paused and wiped the sweat from your forehead, squinting in the bright sunlight.

        "Hey." You said breathlessly. "What's up?"

        "Nothin'." He shrugged. He swayed his weight from one foot to the other anxiously. What had he come over to say? Right, something nice. He looked around for some sort of inspiration. "I, uh, like your...."

        You gave him some time to spit it out but he ultimately choked up. You raised your eyebrows. "My..?"

        "Your, uh... your shoes."

        He wanted to crawl into a hole. Shoes? Really? He was never taking Carol's advice again.

        You glanced down at your dirty boots. They were caked in mud and gore and God knows what else.

        "My shoes." You repeated slowly. "Thanks?"

        "Uh-huh." He gulped with a little nod. "I gotta.." He trailed off, pointing back to the prison as if referring to some imaginary duty he needed to fulfill. You narrowed your eyes a little as he turned around and stalked away with haste. You shook your head and went back to impaling skulls. You had no idea what that was about, nor did you intend on trying to decipher it at that moment.

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#18+ content #mdni #twd daryl #daryl dixon fanfic #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon #daryl x y/n #daryl x reader #daryl x you #daryl x female reader

[heartfullofleeches]

Distribute the weight

Yan Vampire + Tall/Werewolf Reader

Your adoring spouse keeps you on their arm at all times - not matter what others say.

[slightly suggestive]

"Aw, poor Pup broke their paw?~... Don't worry, I'll take care of you. I'm all alone too..."

Irony riddles your scar. Slim, horizontal lines riming the ball of your ankle. A silver bear trap - buried under leaves and twigs, and the cruz pivoting your life on its head. The trap had been set in a part of the forest you had never crossed before, burrowed away on the hunting grounds of a terror fiercer than the hunter after your head. Hell, maybe the bastard set it in that exact location at that exact time in hopes of killing two birds with one stone. In a turn of events shocking you both, the vampire who found you took you into their arms and home: dispatching the hunter stalking you as you recovered in their bed. Loneliness is what saved you that evening - as if you really believed that.

Truth be told, your caretaker was only nursing you back to health to have a fresh supply of blood for guests, but just like the hunter their plans changed the longer you were by their side. Your leg had been completely shattered - amputation likely if they hadn't arrived when they did. Weight too much for one leg to carry; you depended on them to get you from place to place while you healed. From an outside perspective it was like a lion asking aid of their own prey, but their stature was no factor to their strength.

Close to your midsection in height and, your caretaker was able to pick you up in one arm with ease. You were like an oversized stuffed animal they won an the fair and served a similar duty in their bed. They thought about skinning you and using your coat instead, but your warmth came from somewhere deeper than your fur. A confession your third week in and you became lovers. Devoted to you as they were towards their original cause, your spouse would do anything for you.

"Please put me down now..."

Except for that.

You see, old habits die hard when they lead to finding your true love. Years after your leg had healed and your spouse still carried you on their arm wherever they may go. Whether a stoll through the garden or in conversation with another, you were nowhere to be found but in their hold. An extension of themselves they could not part from - you gave up bringing them to reason long ago. The issue still remaining was when you were in the presence of others. The size of the crowd or importance of the person did not matter. In their arms is where you where meant to be and where you reside for as long as they function.

Huddled on a couch in the center of the venue, your spouse is beckoned into conversation by another across the room. An annual meet in their court which you had attended before, but this face was new. Passing their drink off to you and hooking an arm beneath your thighs, your spouse begins to rise when you stop them with a single hand to their chest.

"Maybe I should sit this one out. I'm not sure about that look in their eye..."

Your spouse looks taken aback as if you've just made I'll of their entire bloodline. "Nonsense! Who knows how long this cretin wishes to converse with me? I maybe be able to weasel my way out eventually, but I'm certain to die before then if you are not at my reach. Come now, we mustn't keep our new friend waiting."

Your spouse pats the meat of your thigh, shoving their glass into your hand as they adjust you upon their shoulder as they stand. Your unoccupied arm instinctively shoots around their neck for support as they lock your legs beneath their bicep. You can see upon the second floor from the boost - all those watching and whispering from the shadows. Balancing you on one arm, they traverse the yard; experience in their skill appointed by the point of their heels sharper than the snap of their fangs. Spine straightened and head held high, they join the stranger in the far corner of the room with polite greeting. You focus more on keeping their cup from spilling and staining your fur - again.

Rocking on their heels, your spouse bows their head to the other vamp - hands clearly to preoccupied for a handshake. "Good evening. I trust all is well on your part?"

"Evening...." Their eyes drift towards you, darting back to your spouse as you fume from the concentration. Your spouse rubs your knee, whispering something about knowing just how to get the blood out. "I'm fairing well... why do you ask?"

"I just happened to notice you staring down my mate all night and was curious since you seem to be making them uncomfortable..." Their smile falters, annoyance punctuated by the huff they make as they look up at you. "Ugh, these lights are damn near as bright as day. Darling, could you be a dear a give me a drink?"

Reaching to their jaw, you rest the rim of the glass against their plump lips as their head falls back - flow regulated by the claws at their throat. With their hands at your sides it was not uncommon for you to feed them food and drink, a pleasure your spouse abused plenty.

"Maybe you should keep your mutt at home if I'm bothering them."

Blood plenishes the glass as your spouse chokes on their spit. You ease the glass from their lips as they lower you to the floor, wiping the dribbles of red with the curve of their claws protruding from the cloth of their gloves. Tongue rolling over their fangs, but they bark a laugh as their eyes squint.

"I'm sorry, I don't think I heard you properly."

The other vampire steps forward, sizing them up. Even amongst their own kin, your spouse was smaller than norm. "You really don't know what the others say about you - do you? Carrying around that mutt at all hours like you own the place - it's disrespectful."

"Mm.... Darling, could you hand me that glass, please?" Passing it off, your spouse mouths a thank you as they take it from you and stands between you and your aggressor. Swirling the dark liquid around the edge, they down the drink in one good - pausing briefly to savor the taste before smashing the glass on the floor. As shard disburse at their feet, your spouse checks their nails seeing as this bother wasn't worth their time as they expect.

"Kneel."

A snarl emits from the vampire throat as their hands aim for your spouse's collar. "You may have been here first, but that gives you no reason to order me around."

Your spouse chuckles through the strain around their neck. "My friend, I don't think you understand. See, when my love and I became one, we received a little gift from the little hunter aiming to take us both as prize. A fool that one, but power seems common in the hands of idiots nowadays."

Gaze falling to their chest; if their blood grew any colder it would still in their chest. Pointed at their heart, betwixt the thin layer of skin encasing their ribs - a dagger aims for the kill from the sleeve of your spouse's robes. A lazy, toothy grin meets their face as terror marks their opponent's.

"You wouldn't..."

"Oh, but I would." Twisting the handle, their voice drops as first blood falls. "You wouldn't be the first."

The frightened party looks towards you for mercy. You avoid their silent plea, eyes on your partner alone. Couldn't stop them even if you wanted. Defeated, the vampire drops to one knee, wincing as the broken glass embeds into their knee. Your spouse jabs at their side to get them down on the other, slashing their abdomen in accident they don't seem to care much for. Torment and pain unbound, the worse of it comes with their next order.

"Lick up what's left if you value your tongue."

Their panic is thee most delicious thing your spouse has drank up all night. They look beyond you for help, but they're all but ignored and those who pay mine only snicker or shake their head out of pity. The threat of a foot to the back of their skull gets them moving along just fine. By the time their tongue sweeps the first heap of glass your spouse had already lost interest - concern overtaken their glee as you glance off to nowhere.

"Dearest, what troubles you?"

"They're right, you know?... My leg has been healed for years and I don't need you to carry me around anymore. I'm too big for it anyway.."

"That so?... Forgive me for being selfish, but it isn't all about you anymore, my love. You do have a point with one thing, though."

"What?"

Taking your hand, your spouse pushes you against the wall. Never has the venue's drap wallpaper looked more investing than when wrapped against your fur as they pin you in place. Guiding your legs up and around their torso, they center majority of your weight on their pelvis as their head falls to your sternum and their hands to your waist.

"There's too much of you for these feeble arms of mine to hold. I need a better way to distribute the weight or else I may not be able to carry you as you deserve. At my hip is a far better place for you. Makes sense, considering you're always in my lap when we're at home." Your spouse readjusts their hold on you as one of your legs slides down their back, hips ground against your loins as they lock their hand beneath the seat of your rear. Your thighs cage them like two trunks of wood supported by a twig. One squeeze and you could easily snap their spine just as easy and maybe that's what brought such a vibrant flutter to their heart as their cheek pads your chest. Pulling you down a bit further, they nip at your collarbone as their hands rake up the shorts you wore. In the corner of the room guised by the bustling chatter and music around you, none are the wiser as your clothing dips off your hip - your spouse's robes hiding the slip of their hand between your legs.

"Looks like there are more benefits to this position than I thought. I do believe I can stand here all night with you, my love... If you can keep quiet."

#yandere oc #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere insert #yandere headcanons #yandere x you #yandere blurb #yandere drabble #yandere vampire #werewolf reader

[peterparkersnose]

Folded

pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

word count: 3.4k

warnings: attack description, clicker attack, nightmares, anxiety, wound description, angst, denial of feelings, alcohol mentioned, swearing, mentions and descriptions of gun use, near death experience (if u can’t handle the game don’t read)

HAPPY LAST OF US DAY!!!

a/n ive played tlou 3x and tlou2 2x (going through my second round rn) so shut up pls i dont want any of the ‘you only like joel bc hes pedro’ fr come on ive been playing this game since i was 12. (i’m not like other girls 🥵) jackson joel just does something to me mmmm. wrote this nov 18 ‘22 saved for today

Don’t forget 9PM EST on HBO Max

summary Y/N gets attacked by a clicker during an intense time with Joel

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read time: 12 mins 28 seconds

You could feel the air escaping your lungs at a dangerous rate. The rifle at your side slammed against your thigh as you kept running. The thick forest was just as you remembered it; wet, cold, and dark.

You were outnumbered. Mostly runners, but you spotted a few clickers. The brush on the forest floor wasn’t helping. Your heavy breathing and the sloshing of your boots against the snowy ground were making too much noise.

Where the fuck was Ellie?

3 bullets. Rifle was empty, spent that on some sharp shooting up the hill on some runners you and Ellie found in the town. How stupid were you? Those were an easy kill with a knife. But your childish games on who could get the best headshot left you empty.

Your heart dropped as the rock formation appeared. It was too high. It covered the forest like the earth split into two. That is when you came to terms, and you had to come to it quickly.

You were going to die.

Soon enough, the first runner appeared. Easy kill. One down, maybe 7 to go?

Where the fuck was Ellie?

The next one came. Two down. Three at a time now? A fucking clicker followed them? You wished the brush was tall enough to hide in.

It was useless fighting off three runners at a time with a clicker on their heels. This was it. Death.

The stone wall was cool against your backside. You hugged your knees to your chest as you pulled out your handgun.

At least the clicker would have a good meal.

Shot- one down. Shot- another. The clicker sped up. Shot, wounded but not dead. Quick slice with the knife. Dead.

The shrieking screams of the clicker engulfed your senses as the monster came running at you. It’s flailing arms we’re the last thing you were prepared to see.

You felt the hands on your shoulder. Dead hands of a monster, unspeakable to most. The hands grabbed your shoulders, but no bite came.

Just blinding white noise and a splatter on your face.

You had convinced yourself you were dead. You would never see anyone again. You had died the same death as your father years prior. The death that left you alone.

“Dad?” you managed to mutter out.

The white noise turned into ringing as two hands held your shoulder and shook you.

“Y/N? Y/N please, are you okay?”

Ellie.

“Maria I found her! Here!”

Cloth material wiped over your eyes and they opened. Ellie, splattered with blood stood in front of you with the most panicked look you had ever seen on the girls face.

“Your okay!” she yelled at you, wrapping her arms around you.

Sitting besides you two was the headless clicker that should have killed you.

***

You should be dead. Get this horrible life over with. Dead with your father, with the mother you never knew. Living a life without this disease, these creatures. Free of pain.

When you woke up in the medical wing you were pretty sure almost the whole town was there. You felt like an item on display at a museum. Looking over all the eyes, you most definitely were not searching for his. The whole reason you volunteered to go out with Ellie that day instead of Dina. And of course, he was not there. Why would he be?

“She’s awake!” someone yelled from the crowd. Every eye in the room seemed to fall on you at once. The nurse pushed past the group of people and went to your side.

“For heavens sake! Get out!” the nurse yelled to the group of onlookers. “Give her some goddamn space.” you heard from the crowd as people started to walk towards the exit.

Everyone wanted a look at the girl who survived a clicker attack.

“Hey,” she said, slowly approaching you and sitting on the chair next to your bed. “Ellie!” you exclaimed, embracing the girl tightly. “What happened?” you asked Ellie, releasing your grip on her and settling back into the bed.

The bond had been there since the day you met her. You always remember the look of the scared little girl on the back of Joel’s horse when they first entered Jackson. The bond you two had helped her grow into the person she is now. Ellie had always described you as an older sister. But Ellie was always there for you, and you for her. She was your best friend, platonic soulmate. And a damn good shot.

“I killed it,” she said bluntly. “I-I came at the right time it was about to bite you and- you should have seen it Y/N my shotgun did a number on that thing.”

“A-am I infected?” you asked, looking down at your body for the first time. Your tank top was still on, your jacket was missing. Your jeans were covered in dry blood and smelt of pine needles.

“It’s been three days. You got some pretty nasty scratches though. Sick looking if you ask me. Scars of a warrior.” she added, referring to her tattoo.

And that’s when you saw them. The claw marks were sewn shut on your left shoulder. Your eyes widened as you began to panic. You began to squirm and the pain set in.

“Hey, hey calm down. She took care of you. Best nurse in town, I made sure.” Ellie said, grabbing your good shoulder and stroking your arm to calm you down.

“The doctors said if your vitals stay stable for the next few hours you can go home. Dina and I cleaned up the place for you,” Ellie smiled, stroking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“What have people been saying?” you asked, holding her hand tightly in yours. “That your a hero. You cleared out that building and we found a stash of food that’s going to last for… well, probably a good year. That’s amazing Y/N! They found baby formula for JJ- tons of it. You were right it was the old warehouse.”

A small smile rose to your lips but Ellie could tell what you really wanted to hear about.

What Joel had been saying.

And Joel hasn’t said much. Tommy had told him a brief description in passing of what happened when it was happening. He figured you were dead when they sent out a rescue wagon for you. He even watched as Maria’s horse lead in your body. Ellie was sitting with you in her arms screaming for a nurse, your whole left arm was covered in blood. What was visible of your face was white as a sheet and you weren’t moving. Joel had to silently give up the inkling of what could have been. Hell, you were the first girl who he even considered after his divorce over thirty years ago. It had to end one day and he had to silently agree with it.

“I don’t…” Ellie began, following with a sigh. “Y/N, don’t get yourself worked up over it. It’s not worth it.” Ellie began, knowing her friend too well. “Did he even come and see me?” you asked, looking to Ellie’s eyes. She couldn’t look into yours. She closed her eyes for a quick moment and shook her head. “No,” she whispered.

“Am I a fool?” you asked her. “I’m not sure,” she replied, weary.

The whole reason you went with her instead of Dina was because of Joel. You most definitely could not face him that day after the previous night.

He had knocked on your door a little after nine. He noticed a change in your demeanor today when he came in the room while teaching the some of the kids how to shoot. He wanted to make sure you were okay. Joel felt like he had some responsibility over you to make sure you were always okay because of what happened.

Joel was the one who was with your father when he died.

Sure, he was older than you. You weren’t sure exactly, but he was younger than your father by many years. The attraction from your end started when you saw him drunk off his ass during a celebration dancing with Tommy in the bar. It was the most unconventionally attractive thing, but it flipped some switch in you. When your dad died he taught you how to perfect your aim and kill efficiently. Never crossing any line because you were his dead friend’s daughter. And you were so close to Ellie. Ellie wasn’t too fond of your crush that you confided in her, but she grew to love the idea. Her family.

He came and visited you a little after nine. You were about to slip into bed before you heard the knock on your door. The night was cold and your pajama pants and thin tank top was not cutting it. You invited him inside. He had brought you a tiny gift to lift your mood; a bottle of gin. Your favorite. And you two drank at least half of that bottle of gin. You talked about everything from your father’s death to the time Tommy accidentally washed his clothes with Maria’s pink bra and still has an abundance of pink clothing to this day. The gin was most definitely speaking when you told him how you felt.

And he left.

“Let it go for now- okay? We’re gonna get you out of here and back home.” Ellie reassured you. Nodding your head, you fell back into the cold bed and closed your eyes just wishing it could all go away.

-

Home was empty as it could be. The bottle of gin sat on your coffee table. Your bed was made for the first time in years. Your work station was organized and all of your pens and art supplies were cleaned. You had remembered when Joel gave you those pens, he found them one day and thought of you. Your rifles now hung on your wall. Definitely was Dina’s idea, but you liked it. A tiny gift wrapped in a beige paper with a tiny bit of twine around it sat under your newly mounted rifles.

“Woo hoo. Christmas.” you said to yourself sarcastically. Kneeling down, you opened the package.

Bullets.

For safe keeping, ~Maria

Of course it was from Maria. She always played the mother you never had when she wanted to.

The immense feeling of sleep hit you like a brick wall. I guess being attacked by a clicker and living was a strenuous activity. All you wanted now to do was sleep. Unmaking the nicely folded sheets, you melted back into your bed. The sun was setting in your window and the horses were coming in for the day. You could hear them trotting past your window. You wondered if Joel was just feet away. It was what now… Thursday? You couldn’t remember if he still did the Thursday shift or if he switched with someone else. Who cares, sleep was creeping up slowly and the thought of Joel set you out cold.

The forest was blacker than usual. Without a doubt, you recognized where you were. Running again. All you seemed to do was run now these days. Taking a brief look back while you ran through the forest, you stopped as you realized a whole hoard of clickers were just at your heels. You didn’t have time to react. They were on you ripping your flesh off your body. The dream never seemed to end. You felt each bite and tear of your flesh until-

“Y/N!” Maria screamed, shaking you awake and still being mindful of your wound. “Fuck!” you screamed, sobbing into her arms. “Fuckfuckfuckfuck!” you continued, squirming in bed as she held you.

Your door was wide open and it was now pitch black out. The screams alerted security, and they called for a search of the town. Tommy quickly found the source of the screams and sent Maria in.

Standing outside your door was Tommy, peering in on the sight of his wife with you.

“Gather people. She needs to be watched.” Maria commanded Tommy as she held your shaking body. Too many people had left their homes now to look at the scene and disrupted the peaceful night.

-

Ellie sat with your head in her lap, slowly stroking your hair trying to get you to fall asleep. “Don’t worry. Nobody in this town will let anything happen to you. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

The whole previous night you didn’t sleep. You stared at your wall and just thought. And that whole day you delved yourself in drawings you hadn’t finished or poems you had the inspiration for. Took a shower. You looked through your closet and picked out a fresh outfit. You tried all the little things that usually worked on your old self, but your old self was gone.

That bottle of gin sat on your coffee table and haunted you throughout the day as well. You didn’t have the heart to throw it away, or the mindset to drink it. So there it sat. Pitiful.

You were at a loss for words. No words could describe the immense amount of pain re living that memory caused last night.

Ellie began to hum a tune. It was sweet and reminded you of something innocent. Your eyes began to get heavy. “You ready?” she asked, fluffing up your pillow. Reluctantly, you shook your head yes.

The absolute end was there and tiredness finally seeped in. Distraught sleep left and peaceful sleep took its place.

Ellie dimmed your lamp and smoothed the covers on your bed. It reminded you of the time you took care of Ellie years ago when she was sick. “Sweet dreams,” she said, giving your forehead a brief kiss.

Mumbling was heard outside your door, but you didn’t care.

The field was beautiful. Finally, peace. The flowers stemmed beautifully and the sun shown down on your face. Your hands ran through the fresh green grass. Laying in the rays, you suddenly felt the field get smaller. Sitting up, you realized the sun had disappeared and the field was getting smaller and smaller by the second. The sudden edge of a forest was getting closer and closer. And then with one blink you were back. The forest erected around you. You were back.

“No, no…” he heard from your house. Joel’s interest peaked from the grounds left in his coffee mug to the silent struggles in your bedroom. He lifted himself off your porch chair and looked through your window. You were writhing in bed.

“Ellie!” you let out the first yell. It was so loud that it startled Joel to his core and began a flight of panic. Joel didn’t hesitate to burst your door open. “Ellie don’t leave!” you yelled again.

“Hey,” he said softly, patting your shoulder. A loud groan of pain came from your lips. Joel’s heart sank as the feelings on guilt he felt for letting you go on patrol that day set in once again.

“Y/N!” he whisper yelled, yanking your body over to face him. Your eyes shot open. Ripped from the dream into another one.

You looked him up and down. This wasn’t real. It was another dream. Tears welled up in your eyes as you shut them tight, praying you would wake up somewhere else.

“It was a bad dream,” he whispered, resting his hand on your thigh. His thumb patiently rubbed your thigh as your breathing sped up. Your legs matched up perfectly, knees facing him. Your face was buried in your hands that were now grasping at your eyes.

“Stop it,” Joel hissed, grabbing your manic hands tightly. “This isn’t real,” you cried out, sobs following it.

His heart seemed to break into a million pieces when you started to full on cry. The last time he dealt with a crying girl it was Ellie. Wait- no, maybe it was Sarah. He honestly wasn’t sure, but it was most definitely years ago.

“Everything is alright. I know how it is. I-I didn’t sleep for a few days after my first clicker encounter. Those things are nasty fuckers.” he said, his hand returning to your thigh trying to soothe you. He was clueless on what he was supposed to do.

At this point, you realized you weren’t dreaming. He was here. His hand was on your thigh. He was sitting on your bed. You were in a tank top that cut a little too low for your liking.

Your teary eyes looked up and met his. He hadn’t moved his gaze off of your face. He gave you a soft reassuring smile.

Joel cursed himself for letting his feelings creep back in. This was wrong anyways, he felt sick any time he thought about you. The pit of his stomach couldn’t handle it much more, he had pretty much forgotten about you (as much as he would like to admit). But when Tommy assigned him second watch of you that night, he just knew it had trouble written all over it.

“Go back to sleep now. Pretty girls need their beauty sleep.” he said, instantly regretting it.

That line worked on Sarah, but in a whole different way with a much different meaning. He wanted to suck back in the words as fast as he said them.

Letting a tense breathe go, he steadied himself on your bed frame and made his way to the door.

He had made his way to the door as you spoke.

“Joel?”

His hand stopped his motion as it rested on the top of your door frame.

“Yeah?” he asked, turning around.

“W-will you stay? Just for a little bit.” you said, stuttering as you realized how large his body was compared to your door.

He paused. “I suppose.”

You moved your legs so he would have enough room to sit next to you. You heard his knee crack as he sat down on the low rise bed. His legs sat upward as he leant a hand behind your legs to steady himself.

“I’m sorry.” you said. It had to be said, what better time than now? “I don’t want to hear your apologies.” he huffed. “It was inappropriate.” you spit out again. “No- Y/N, stop. Please.” he asked. “You need to get some sleep.”

“I can’t sleep. Every time I sleep I go… back there. I can’t.” you whimpered. He sighed, groaning and wiping his brow.

“What would you like me to do about it? I can’t do anything.”

“Stay.”

Joel was left confused on how your calmness met his angry tone. He knew you well, he was surprised you weren’t screaming in his face. You didn’t take shit. You were being patient for once in your life.

Oh, how you’ve changed since the attack.

“I’m here. What more do you want from me?” he asked. His tone had extra edge of anger to it that was fueled with a faint passion.

In the darkness, you reached for his hand. It was coarse and dry, with many various scars and callouses you could feel just with a slight touch. He instinctively pulled back a bit, but gave in within the second. Wrapping your fingers with his, you places his hand back on your thigh.

“Y/N I-”

“The thing you were doing before on my leg. It was nice.”

“Oh,” he said, defeating the original thought from his head. His thumb began slowly moving in circles once again.

You were showing him what you needed.

He watched as your sad face closed your eyes and sighed. You felt safe for the first time in days.

Joel felt the pit in his stomach widen and fully consume him. The girl who practically raised Ellie from when she arrived; his dead friend’s daughter; one of the best damn killers in all of Jackson; Y/N. God, he was in so much trouble with his morals.

“I’m too far deep in this shit,” he muttered to himself, rubbing his forehead with his free hand.

Your eyes fluttered open to see him. “What?” you asked.

“I can’t…” he said, beginning to shake his knee up and down. “What?” repeated yourself in a confused tone.

His strong body swept over yours. He grabbed your shoulder ever so softly and perched you in his arms. Your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck.

No initiative had to be made besides the movement of your lips against his. Your hand wrapped itself in his hair, playing softly as he held your back strongly. A slight moan came from his lips that he instantly regretted when you accidentally tugged ever so slightly on his graying strands of hair. For the split second that you two separated gasping for air, he pulled you tighter.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been fighting this,” he whispered on your lips. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this,” you sighed, staring back at his scruffy face.

Joel came back to his senses. He felt different. He could never go back to the same person he was a minute ago. His world revolved around something new. No more obsessing over patrol and how to appease Tommy. No more worrying over how Ellie could handle herself. No more worrying about his aching joints and the fear of getting older. Something new became the center of his universe. He had folded.

The girl laying in his arms who now rested her head against his chest.

“You really need sleep darlin’,” he sighed. You sighed in resistance.

“You want me to stay?” he asked, looking down at your exhausted face.

“Please.”

You moved over in your bed as he made himself comfortable. Joel never realized how much larger he was than you until he slept with you in his arms.

You layed on his chest as one arm wrapped around your shoulders. His hand rested comfortably on your shoulder.

“Thank you.” you whispered. He placed a small kiss on your head. Your arms wrapped around your stomach, making yourself more comfortable in his embrace. The only sound in the room was your soft breathing.

“Go to sleep now. Your safe with me, my sweet girl.”

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[darkestspring]

how would dark/yandere Aegon The Conquer, Aemond One-Eye, Daemon The Rogue Prince, Maegor The Cruel, And Aegon The Usurper react how would they act if they married lady reader but at first they didn't love her even though she tried to make things work until they finally fell completely in love with her but she got tired and now she's the one who doesn't he wants it no matter what they do it drives them away and rejects them. thanks and sorry for making it so long :(

Aegon "The Conquerer" Targaryen

It had never been easy being married to him but you had tried. You tried to be a good wife. You tried to make things work.

You took the time to learn what he likes and disliked, his favorite topics, his curiosities. All of it, so that you may be a good wife to him, not just an obedient wife but a friend too.

And yet, again and again you were dismissed, not even worth a single word. He would wave you away without even looking at you. It legt you with your heart in your throat.

After so many attempts to be a good wife to him, only to be shot down and dismissed and even commanded to leave like you were just a nuisance to him, you decided to just stop. No amount of kindness would make him be kind to you.

Aegon found himself expecting your kindness, found himself missing it. He could not sleep without your daily acts of kindness towards you. You had always slept next to him and now you won't even stay in the same room as him.

"Stay a little longer, my wife." He had commanded of you as you went to leave the room as he entered it. Your expression was stone cold as you stared at him.

"How many I help you?" You sounded so formal and it hit his heart, he wished for your warmth. He craved your sweetness.

Aegon held out his hand to you. "Would you like to take a walk with me?"

You wanted to scoff. A walk? How many times had you asked to take a walk with him only to be shot down, told to leave him out of your silly ideas. You stared at him with all the coldness you could muster in yourself. "Please leave me out of your silly ideas, your grace."

His heart dropped as he watched you walk out. He had said those words to you before.

Every request he had for you. to eat together, to spend the night together, to read, to walk, to be together was met with a cold refusal from his wife.

Just like he had done before.

Aegon "The Usurper" Targaryen

In spite of Aegon's reputation as a whore and a drunkard, you tried your hardest as his wife to be there. to help him and love him. You tried to be a good wife to him.

Only to be humiliated every single time.

You helped his hangovers, you defended him against rumors, you bathed him, to nursed him back to health, you took his side over everyone elses. You never strayed, you always brought him his favorite means and you refused to believe your good mother's words and saw the best in him.

And yet, it was never enough. He preferred whores and unwilling servants over his own wife. He could not speak to his own wife unless he was drunk and even then, he spoke of you with disdain, spoke that you had trapped him and how you suffocated him.

You're not sure at what point it was enough for you. Was it the whoring? Was it his comment that you were suffocating him? Was it the fact that he was so willing to have bastards but refused to even acknowledge you as his lawful wife? maybe it was all of it.

You ordered the staff to move your things into a separate room, far away from this one. You ignored the queen's pleas for you to reconsider. you ignored the look on your good brother's face. you ignored servants who came to inform you that your husband had returned drunk.

When Aegon woke up the next morning with a mind-spliting hang over and weakly called for you, panic filling him as you never replied or came. "My love?" Came his weak call and when the door opened it was a servant, not you. She placed breakfast and medicine for the pain on the table.

"The queen wishes to see you after you have cleaned up, my prince." The servant meekly informed him before hurrying out before he could ask her where you were.

you always nursed him, cared for him. You had always been there for him, so where were you now? Where was his love?

The next time he saw you, you were with his sister, stone faced as his mother seemed to be pleading something from you.

"My decision is done. I respect you greatly, good mother." Your voice wasn't the same as it had been before. "But I am done trying."

"My love, where have you been?" His question sounds stupid and he watched as his mother grimaces and looks away.

"Not suffocating you, Prince Aegon." Your reply is cold and he flinches as you stare at him coldly. "I have taken precaution to avoid causing you such troubles."

"My wife...."

"Am I your wife?" You retorted humorless, ignoring the look that his family gives you, sympathy and pity. "I hadn't noticed." You walked past him without another word.

He had said those words to you, heartless and cruel. And now he had lost you just as he realized that he loved you.

Aemond "The One-Eye" Targaryen

In the beginning you had been delighted to be married to Aemond, he was a man of honor, he would do his duty, just as you would do yours.

As he remained eternally cold, like a snowstorm you could not escape, you tried your hardest to be the best wife to him. You brough him his meals when he remained preoccupied with his studies. you came to watch him train and express your awe over him. You brought him gifts and made sure to always look after him. You tried your hardest to be a wife he could depend upon.

And yet, the cold never left his eyes.

It went from being a delight to be his wife, to being an exhaustive chore.

The nights you spent crying, sobbing into your hands as your handmaiden tried to console you soon would outweigh the days you spent happy to help your husband.

You didn't know what was your breaking point. His coldness, his dismissive nature towards you, how he would never refute his brother's words about you or maybe it was the rumors that your husband had taken a lover.

All of it was too much. History may speak of you as his wife but you would have no more connections with him.

You stopped coming to his room at night, you stopped sending him medicine for his pains or cream for his phantom eye pains, you no longer mended his torn shirts, you no longer ate with him or even invited him on walks.

When you walked past him with your handmaiden, he would stare after you, his heart aching. Why did he feel this? You had been the only person to still defend him, to still spend time with him and now? You were too busy for any of it.

You refused to even look at him most days, you were a ghost in his presence and his heart ached to see your gentle smile once more.

"My wife." He called out to and you stopped, your hand clenching into a fist before you cooled your expression into one of pure coldness, one only for him. "Come eat with me."

"I'm sorry, I do not have the time. I already ate." You stared at him with nothing warm and it made him want to cry. "Please cease to bring trivial things like these to me."

'Please stop bringing such bothersome things to my attention.' that's what he once said to you, his gaze never once meeting yours.

"If you wish to have a meal, I think flying to Harrenhal and dining with your whore is a better idea." You retorted, smiling at him humorlessly before turning around and walking off down the hall.

Aemond Targaryen would have a wife only in name and law.

Daemon "The Rogue Prince" Targaryen

You didn't expect his love, your union was arranged and he was under no obligation to love you but his behavior was not one you expected.

You tried to care for him, always helping him and trying to be his wife, to be a good wife to him but he never cared in the slightest.

He refused to touch you or even look at you. He made it quite clear how much a nuisance you were. Not a wife of his choosing.

You had learned not to cry around him. He took joy in seeing you cry and he made it known to you.

In the beginning you had tried to be his wife. Tried to learn his likes and dislikes, tried to invite him to eat with you, take walks with you, see the night sky with you but he made it quite clear that he would always prefer his whores over you.

You had stopped that night. All of your affections turned cold. You no longer smiled at him and tried to invite him to do things with you. No, you had given up the notion of wife.

At first Daemon had found it amusing, wanting to see how far his lovely wife took this but then days stretched into weeks which stretched into three months and it was no longer amusing. He wanted you to dote on him and be his wife.

But you no longer considered him your husband. There is no bone in your body that wishes to be near him.

"Don't you think your tantrum has gone on long enough, my sweet girl?" He had asked you, irritation coating his voice.

You stared him with a stone cold look before tilting your head. "If my prince lacks attention, he may see his whores. He can pay them to fake affections towards him because as you've made quite clear, you prefer the whores."

He stares at you with a dark look as you walk away. He'll chip away at your coldness until his sweet wife is returned, he's sure of that.

Maegor "The Cruel" Targaryen

You had dreaded being married to him, he was known for his cruelty, for how far he was willing to go for what he wanted. Torture, murder, kinslaying. None of that mattered to him.

You still tried your hardest to be a good wife, to be attentive and helpful, to bear him a son but none of it mattered.

You would always be just a broodmare for him. He had reminded you of it several times. You were barely his wife and never his equal. You were broodmare, the only purpose you have for him is to give him a son.

What you wanted did not matter to him, he reminded you as he pinned you down once more.

Maybe something inside you broke that night. Maybe it had always been broken.

Whenever it had broken, you could not keep being a good wife. You prayed to the mother for forgiveness every day for that fact.

It was praying that helped you avoid him, you spent more time in the sept than you did in your own room.

Slowly, Maegor came to miss your presence. The way your hands would massage his shoulders when they hurt. The way you would bring him his favorite things and kiss him while wishing him luck, telling him that you believed in him.

You were his wife, and yet, where were you?

Maegor cornered you in the sept when it was only you inside. "Where has my wife been? How I've missed you kind hands."

You barely restrained a flinch as you clenched your hands together in an effort to maintain your composure. "I have been praying, your grace."

Your Grace? What happened to Husband?

Maegor hummed, watching you carefully as you started to walk past and he grabbed your arm. "You have not been visiting me. How are you to be my wife if you won't see me?"

"As you have told me, I am barely your wife. I am simply your broodmare. If you wish for a wife, there are many others. I am not your only wife." Your words were cold, just as your gaze was.

Out of shock, Maegor loosened his grip and your snatched your arms back, hurrying past as he simply looked at your furthering figure.

Now, that wasn't going to work.

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