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sommerregenjuniluft · 1 month

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@jegulus-microfic 6 & 16 march - scent & arrange - 2329 words

have some 1800ish-something a/b/o jegulus curtsey of me rewatching bridgerton over the last few days lol (the soundtrack goes so unnecessarily hard)

Regulus is in need of a drink, and Regulus is in need of it fast.

His useless Alpha excuse of a brother is nowhere to be found, has left him alone amongst the bloodthirsty throng of eligible Alpha bachelors of the ton and Regulus is but a piece of medium rare steak marinating in his own juices. No pun intended.

Regulus is supposed to have his first dance of the evening with his newly engaged fiance which he, not to mention, has yet to even meet and none of his family or friends are in a reachable vicinity to aid their support.

He is going to throw a fit.

The padded mesh cloth around his throat is so tight he feels unable to breathe, there are a dozen different scents wafting at him from all sides at any given moment and Regulus feels stupid with it. And not in a positive sense, just– horribly overwhelmed. Dizzy from the sensory overload.

He desperately needs something to take off the edge.

Cue, the drinks buffet.

He’s almost at his destined location when he collides with a warm chest.

“Oh, careful there,” a deep voice responds, grip tight on Regulus’ shoulder but not untoward.

But Regulus is already in a foul mood, insults read at the tip of his tongue, bitter and stinging.

“Are you not in possession of a working pair of ey—” the last syllable dissolves uselessly on his palate before it can do more damage when Regulus is, with a sudden burst of clarity, pulled from his distressed state in an instant.

Cloaked in a realm of fresh outside air, meadow and wood, like someone had opened a window directly beside Regulus to rescue him from his torment. He breathes in again, greedily, taking in the patchouli and vetiver notes. Something rich and friendly that immediately lulls Regulus into a much more acceptable mood, shoulders untensing, heartbeat slowing. His body’s reaction quite similar to whenever Sirius is scenting him.

That’s before he looks up at the man though.

He’s all bronze skin and unruly dark hair in the most endearing sloppy way that it infiltrates Regulus with the urge to reach out his twitching fingertips and righten the mess, kind brown eyes behind perfectly round, wire-framed glasses and the most dazzling smile Regulus has laid his eyes upon this evening or ever, maybe.

Which currently twitches wider at the corners, at Regulus’ loss for words, presumably, making him blink violently and stoop into a hastened curtsey.

“My apologies, Lord–” Regulus cuts himself off, realising he doesn’t even know the man’s title nor name. He could be a foreign duke, a prince even, for all that Regulus knows. Or, rather, doesn’t know.

“Just James,” the Alpha responds. With his given name, of all things, much to Regulus’ confusion.

He’s smiling warmly down at Regulus, if a little amused, holding a respectable amount of distance that he has stepped back into.

The grin makes Regulus feel all kinds of woozy and cotton-mouthed and out of sorts despite the lack of just one drop of alcohol having landed on his tongue. A spectacle he must appear as, gnawing at his bottom lip and gawking at the unnecessarily handsome stranger like a simpleton without getting a single word out.

The Alpha cocks his head, grin widening and Regulus finally finds it in himself to rip his stare away when there’s a waiter gliding past them with even more champagne on a tray. Reminding him as to why he’s made his way over here in the first place. Regulus snatches up a glass and downs half of it in one go, going against every single thing his family have ever taught him but he can honestly be less bothered right this moment given they have all abandoned him anyways. Stupid Papa with his stupid business arrangements. Stupid Maman with her ever so unsatisfied need of new gossip. Stupid Sirius and his stupid staff mistress.

“And you might be…?” the same warm voice says, a little closer now.

“You’re still here?” Regulus throws over his shoulder, aiming for annoyed, though the question coming out strained and to his surprise, yet again, he gets a laugh in response.

He turns, allows himself to properly look this time and there’s mischief dancing in James’ eyes as he raises dark brows, “Is there something troubling you?”

“Is there ever not?” Regulus sighs, taking another sip against his better judgement. Anything to drown out the reminder of his predicament.

“Well, as your self-proclaimed rescuer in this clearly distressing time of need, I am all ears,” the stranger offers with a cheeky smile.

Regulus narrows his eyes, his unused arm wrapping protectively around his front.

The Alpha narrows his eyes in imitation, lips straining with a dimpled grin, apparently finding ridiculous amounts of joy in Regulus’ miserable state, though he doesn’t look the type to be of malicious intent. A jokester, perhaps, someone silly and rather unregarding of any rules, maybe—much like Sirius, actually, and Regulus, despite their differences and how horribly annoying he can be at times, would be the last one to label his big brother as a bad person.

And, well, desperate times and all.

Regulus sucks in a big, steadying breath, “I am to dance with my fiance in mere minutes.”

A pause. “Then I understand congratulations must be in order,” James bows his head, teeth digging into his lower lip as his grin widens impossibly.

“Certainly not,” Regulus hisses, outraged, “What about me at the very moment says happily engaged Omega, I must inquire?!”

“Mm, the distressed frown and wide squirrel-about-to-be-shot-eyes, of course.”

Regulus ignores him, on a roll now, feeling the rush of complaining tug on him like a wild current, “I do not even know the man, have yet to even meet him. For all I know he could be a troll! An ogre of a man, or worse; an Alpha ready to bore me to death!”

“Or he might be the most handsome, charming, talented, ingenious, chivalrous, witty Alpha for miles—perhaps the whole continent?” James counters, ducking closer.

His scent increases for a second and Regulus has to take a moment as he feels it settle on the back of his tongue to remind himself of his manners. Face flushed, he turns to look back into the room, desperate for distraction. Settled on the musicians, watching them play their violins and the pianoforte, Regulus sniffs primly, “Or a troll.”

A snort, smile evident in his voice when the Alpha speaks next, “Well, I suppose there is only one way to find out.”

“Or,” Regulus says pointedly, taking another big gulp of the sparkling alcohol, “I pretend to faint and you will be witness for my family to convince them to take me back home where I shall crawl under the covers and feign illness until the very end of the courting season.”

“And what if I told you that you can’t hide forever?” James ducks his head to catch his gaze and Regulus rolls his eyes into his champagne glass, “You might have already been found out before you even know.”

“Then I would tell you that you underestimate me,” he replies, turning back to him and leaving the sight of musicians as the ballroom fills up.

“Hmm,” the Alpha makes sceptically.

“Hmm,” Regulus mocks, wobbling his head.

James narrows his eyes, mouth twitching, “Are you mocking me?”

“I would never dream of it, my Lord,” Regulus answers.

James makes a noise resembling an indulgent Sure and takes the almost empty glass out of Regulus’ grip and replaces it with another. The new glass is more curved, with a glittering golden rim and the liquid inside equally sparkling but with a delightful added hue of soft pink.

It looks enticing but Regulus knows better than to trust just any obscure Alpha, “Are you trying to get me drunk, my Lord?”

This time it’s James’ turn to roll his eyes, “Take a sip.”

He doesn’t use the voice yet Regulus finds himself almost eager to obey nonetheless, so he lifts the glass to his lips.

It’s lemonade.

When Regulus looks back up, licking his lips off the residue, James cocks his head expectantly with a smirk.

Regulus can’t stand his arrogance.

It’d do him some good to be knocked down at least several pegs. Regulus certainly wouldn’t pass the opportunity to volunteer for the task. Wipe that self-assured grin right off his face and for some reason there is heat crawling up into Regulus’ cheeks suddenly—the champagne must be getting to him.

He sniffs quickly, eyes darting away to occupy his gaze with something else and falling to swirl along the intricate pattern on James’ coat. His broad chest is well on display with the way his hands are folded at the small of his back.

Regulus blinks again, studying James and the way he’s been standing next to Regulus at the drinks buffet for minutes without ever attempting to take one for himself.

“You’re not drinking?” he asks curiously, brushing an errant curl back behind his ear.

James does something weird then. A flutter of his lashes, nostrils flaring, and his jaw drops open slightly. A breath punches out of him that tapers into a chuckle as he slips into a grin, averting his eyes for a moment.

He winces slightly, still smiling, and then takes another half step closer. Regulus narrows his eyes in warning but James just keeps the short distance, grinning shamelessly. “Well, actually, I came to the buffet because I could have sworn I smelled lemon tart—see, they’re my favourite.”

Regulus frowns, head swivelling to glance behind James’ big form, along the length of the table, occupied solely by glasses of champagne and lemonade. He turns back to James, a derisive scoff tumbling from the centre of his chest that would have earned Regulus a sharp warning glance from his mother, “Perhaps you should consider a visit to the Doctor, my Lord. Your sense of smell must be awfully off.”

Or maybe he’s just particularly dull. Well, Regulus thinks, it is only fair this way. If you’re already this handsome and well-built you don’t deserve to be a genius as well. Balance of nature and all.

The Alpha’s grin does not wane though and Regulus feels a shiver run up the curve of his spine when the tall Alpha hums in a deep timber. “My nose works just fine, actually,” James tilts his head to the side, eyes wandering down Regulus’ face towards his neck, “As opposed to your scarf.”

It takes a moment and then Regulus’ mouth drops open. Oh, the sheer audacity. A sound of disbelief jumps from his dry throat, “I beg your pardon?”

“Oh, no need, I am perfectly capable of controlling myself even with such a delicious treat dangled right in front of my nose,” James grins. It’s infuriating.

Regulus can feel the vein in his forehead popping with his anger, “Have you no manners?!”

“I certainly do,” he volleys back, “I just take my liberties with whenever to apply them.”

“Well, then I advise you to take a tighter reign of them when in the company of strangers,” Regulus spits, cheeks warm.

It’s just that James is still so close, smelling divine and knee-weakening and now that he’s been made aware he can’t help but notice their scents mixing in the air surrounding them. Their space neither of them seems quite taken to leaving, creating a wonderful concoction of syrupy sweet-sour citrus and heavy spicy-woodsy musk.

“There will be no need around you then, Regulus,” James counters and Regulus gasps, head reeling, feeling like he’s just fallen from his horse, “Given you are my fiance, love.”

Oh, there is no way.

No.

This must be a joke.

Regulus feels like his eyes are about to pop out of their sockets as he eyes the length of the Alpha again. The tousled black hair, the handsome features, the pleasant build, the clearly expensive clothing. Reminded of the fact that his aristocratic, powerful family would never arrange an engagement with anyone less than fully deserving for their only Omega. “You–”

“Allow me to introduce myself,” he grins, stooping into a curtsey, “James Potter, Duke of Godric’s Hollow.”

“Oh, goodness in the heavens.”

“Now I believe I was promised a First Dance?” James looks in no way angry with Regulus’ disrespect, if anything, just as amused and cheerful as the whole time. The whole time in which he evidently knew who he was talking to, making a right fool of Regulus, just for the fun of it.

Regulus barely has the time to pout when the Alpha already continues, “I think that is the least you can do after calling me an ugly tr—”

“Yes,” Regulus cuts him off, clearing his throat, “I will dance with you.”

Something softer shimmers in James’ warm, chocolate eyes and then Regulus gasps silently when a warm hand touches the gloved curve of his palm, “I am nothing short of delighted to hear that, love.”

They step onto the dance floor together, hands entwined and basking in each other’s presences. Regulus feels fizzy and warm on the inside.

James is witty and interesting, effortlessly able to keep Regulus on his toes—both metaphorically and literally—and excellent dancer and an even more stunning conversationalist. Not to mention, quite easy on the eye. And Regulus doesn’t even want to get started on James’ scent again.

One dance turns into many, turns into walking around the room side by side bickering and gossiping and laughing, turns into a lively game of chess, turns into wandering through the halls and appraising art, turns into Regulus passing out on James’ shoulder on a settee before Sirius eventually finds them and takes him home.

The next day, James is there in the drawing room for tea, as he promised he would. Regulus has told the kitchen staff to prepare lemon tart.

And the rest is history.

#jegulus #jegulus microfic #regulus is wearing the prettiest emerald suit it's not mentioned but i need yall to know for the big picture #starchaser #sunseeker #jegulus fluff #a/b/o au #james potter #regulus black #arranged marriage #all the silly funny cute tropes #might make more of this if the little bridgerton obsession stays #james potter x regulus black #regulus black x james potter #lune’s tiny fic

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gwyns · 3 months

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welp..... time to board the tharion and sathia ship

#im a simple woman... the arranged/forced marriage trope makes me go feral #kenzie reads hofas #hofas spoilers #crescent city spoilers #house of flame and shadow spoilers #cc3 spoilers #crescent city #tharion ketos #sathia flynn #tharion x sathia #tp

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bettdraws · 2 months

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This is a wild Elucien headcanon…

but please imagine Lucien being in a really dangerous situation with the Autumn court, like something happened and they have him as a prisoner, or unable to leave.

And Elain is there listening to how Lucien could potentially be held captive in a cold cell or even tortured.

And shes there when Eris says the only way to save him is if he has real ties to the Night Court or if he officially becomes a member, and the only way to do that is if he gets mated/married to someone from there, not anyone, but the High Lady’s sister.

And everyone is outraged with what he is suggesting but Elain is suddenly quiet.

And she suddenly says “I will do it” and everyone gapes at her, some try to talk her out of it (possibly Feyre or Nesta) but Rhys just nods.

And they send notice to the Autumn court that they cannot harm Lucien because he is a Night Court citizen, but Beron doesn’t believe it, he demands that Elain goes there so he can determine it.

Chaos, outrage, but she agrees, and she obviously doesn’t go alone. She convinces herself that while she doesn’t owe Lucien anything, she is tired of the bloodshed, the loss, and if she has the power in her hands, she will act. That is all, she couldn’t care less about him. She convinces herself she would be this worried for anyone that is close to her sister, it’s not because shes worried and scared and petrified of something bad happening to him.

They’re in the Forest House, they bring out Lucien who is luckily generally unharmed but Elain looks at the binds in his wrists and her whole body reacts to the sudden urge to protect. Beron takes one sniff at them and knows it is true. They’re mates. But Beron says an unfulfilled mating bond is not valid (listen idk about these fae laws bear with me) they need to marry. Elain declares that was the plan all along. Lucien is shocked. (I just imagine what must be going through his head seeing his mate stand before Beron in the same room where Jesminda was killed)

They let Lucien go with his mate but they have to stay in the Forest House until everything gets resolved. Elain and Lucien are shoved into a room, no more chains on him, but he doesn’t understand any of it.

Both of them are standing awkwardly in the room. Lucien is staring at her as if she has grown ears, still shocked, still reliving moments, furious at them for being so dumb as to risk themselves for him. He supposed he really was a big asset for Rhys to have done this. But her… why was she here? Why did she put herself in this position?

“Did they make you do this?” He says through his teeth.

She muses on what to say. “No” she gets offended with the assumption that she can’t make decisions for herself. “I agreed to this and came on my own free will”

“Why would you do such a thing?”

“Because I’m tired of people dying, I wouldn’t forgive myself if I could have done something” A silence and for some forsaken reason Elain has the need to add. “This doesn’t mean what you think it means”

Something irks at Lucien then, and the awoken nerves on his body make him respond to that. “And please tell, Lady, what do I think it means?”

Elain clenches her fists. “That I’ve changed my mind about you… about this” She signals between them. “This is just temporary, out of necessity”

Lucien just stares at her.

“I never entertained that you did, I can assure you.” It is easier to turn on her, on this beautiful female that is putting herself at risk for him, than to be hurt at the continuing rejection from her. “You’ve always just assumed that I’m some brute fae that wants to steal you away, let me tell you now that we’re speaking frankly, that its not the case. I can’t control the pull from the bond, but I have no interest in pursuing a female who doesn’t want me”

That sends Elain to retaliate. “What about the gifts then, was that not pursuing?” She cocks her head arrogantly.

“I was bringing them to Feyre as well. That was me being polite, but guess you don’t know the first thing about that”

“You are one to talk about politeness when I’m here risking my life for your neck and this is how you treat me” She takes one step closer.

“I never asked you to do it” He mirrors her and steps closer with his broad hands clenched in fists.

“I will just let you die next time then”

“Fine by me, as long as I don’t have to endure you shoving it on my face”

“Asshole”

“I’ve been called worse” A sly, angry smile creeps at one corner of his mouth. She suddenly realizes they’re breathing on each other’s face.

“And all this time I thought you were a gentleman” She summons her anger to keep focused.

“You will learn I can be a gentleman, Elain” Her name on his lips, for the first time. “But I can be so much worse too”

His breath is hot on her face, their hearts already beating fast.

“You admit you were pretending then, to win me over”

A sharp breathy laugh from him. “If I wanted to win you over, I would not have tried to be gentle”

Her lips form a thin line as she holds herself, the pull, his words, the sudden effect of his mismatched gaze intense on her face.

“You shouldn’t have done this” He says quietly, roughly, his eyes showing something beyond just annoyance, she sees the fear in them. She pushes it back.

“What’s done is done” She says. “We will pretend, see this through, and then we’re done”

“Alright, dove”

She’s startled. Her nostrils flare. She ignores the outrageous pet name he just used on her. “I’m going to take a bath, I suggest you do the same, you stink” She begins to walk away and stops herself “I mean after I’m done” She frowns as she strolls away.

He watches her with sudden amusement.

He’s scared, hes pissed and hurt. He’s tired. But something inside him sparks, and he can’t really put a name to it.

Oh he’s not alright.

#guys im not a writer but I had to put this out there #if youre a writer PLEASE TAKE THIS I NEED IT #elucien #pro elucien #marriage of convenience #the best trope im sorry #pro lucien vanserra #lucien vanserra #elain archeron #elain x lucien #autumn court drama #elucien headcanon #elucien one shot #elain and lucien banter will EAT

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untamedho · 5 months

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Every River to Its Sea by knightcaptain

“How you’ve managed make this sound like a death sentence is beyond me,” Lan Xichen mutters. He sets the pot back down on the table. “I hear the Emperor has met over a hundred suitors in the past year alone and he’s rejected every single one of them. Surely the fact that he did not reject you is—” “Happenstance. Nothing more.” The corner of Lan Wangji’s mouth twitches, and that’s about as much insight into his inner world as Lan Xichen is going to get for now. He reaches for his cup of tea again. “If the Yiling Patriarch has been saying no to every single candidate ceaselessly for the last twelve months, then it is only a matter of probability. He has been playing a game of attrition, and he’s finally lost.” Lan Xichen chuckles. “And I suppose the Emperor is, at this very moment, skulking about in the palace, equally unwilling to enter into this arrangement with you?” “I don’t care for his feelings on the matter. His Imperial Majesty is the one who has sealed my fate.”

Read on AO3

#fic #fic rec #trope: marriage #trope: pining #pov: outsider #pov: lwj #rating: m/e

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messiahzzz · 4 months

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i do wonder why fandom is so insistent on proving that "gale could eventually change his mind" when it comes to fatherhood.

if children are something you ideally want in your romance - that is completely valid and luckily for you, there are several romance options in the game that can provide just that. wyll, lae'zel, and halsin. even shadowheart briefly mentions that children might be a possibility for her in the future. 4 options total that either already have entire adoption subplots or are open to the idea.

meanwhile, fandom is bending over backwards, bringing up aspects of gale's arc that are completely irrelevant to the topic at hand and claiming that any statement coming from gale or any boundary he sets should forever be questioned because... "he has been known to have inferiority issues"?!

gale is a character who is very likely in his 40s. he isn't some 20-something college boy who is still trying to figure everything out. i personally never felt like there was any point in the context of gale's relationship with tav where he was unsure about his desires. quite the contrary.

gale is also very vocal about what he wants. not wasting any time in proposing to tav after the big bad had been defeated. i am pretty sure there would have been instances where gale expressed his desire to have children (whether that may mean immediate or somewhere down the line) if larian had intended to include this aspect in his romance as well.

...but instead all we have to go on when it comes to the subject of children in general are lines like these:

player: gale... how would you feel about having another person in our relationship?

gale: what, like a child? i'm not quite sure i'd consider myself father material, plus our current lifestyle isn't exactly what i'd call settled...

tara: this is why mrs. dekarios and i will be waiting an eternity more for grandchildren.

gale: psst! shoo, tara.

nodecontext: shooing away tara like one would a naughty cat.

gale, upon spotting oliver during their game of hide and seek: ah, i have you! just a shame i don't want you.

EDIT:

adding for clarification

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #by all means go wild with your headcanons #no ones stopping you #but recognize that they are ooc and merely self-indulgent #dad!gale #it speaks #fandom critical #on a different note: a good majority of media out there follows the usual marriage-nuclear-family trope #if you're into that sort of thing you'll likely never run out of content to consume #and here we have one (1) character who expresses no such desires #and yet fandom is still so insistent that: Akshually no. he should feel the same.#perhaps controversial but imo gale is for the cf gang

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lavenderslabyrinth · 4 months

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A Sacrificial Game

King!Dragon x Reader

Masterlist

This is my first post since deciding to kick off this new account. It’s rewritten from an old story I had posted on here long ago once upon a time. I hope you enjoy~

CW: ♢ Mention of Near Drowning ♢ Blood/Injury ♢ Abduction ♢

The coos of morning doves and the gentle brushing of branches against your bedroom window were quickly drowned out by the boisterous laughter and squabbling of your many siblings. Your attempt at trying to drown them out via the trusty quilt-over-head technique was quickly plundered as they burst through your sacred doorway. With energy only children can manage to conjure from the depths of hell at 8 in the morning, they jostled you around roughly, stealing away the comforting warmth you'd had. Surely, you'd thought, this was an act of merciless torture. Your skin prickled with goosebumps and, irritably, you managed to croak out a yip. "Ow! Off!" Your anger did nothing more than make them giggle as they lightly bruised you with their rough play. "Lemme sleep, dammit! Off! Get off!" Taking evident joy out of your misery, the damn gremlins only gave you a round of smug looks. They did relent, however it was truthfully only to avoid your flailing swats at their heads. “Momma said we ain’t eatin’ breakfast till you get up. So get up lazy" A chorus of agreements and more jostling only drew a strong eye roll from you. But, nevertheless, you shooed them off and sat up, groggily rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

Normally they'd just eat without you, leaving the leftovers warmed in the oven to be picked at by whoever passed by, but today was a special occasion. It was your birthday. Normally birthdays were happy events full of gifts, smiles, and all things merry-making-- but this one was different. While the younger whelps scurried off to the old wooden table, none the wiser to the fate that you now had to face, a heavy weight hung over the heads of the adults in the house. The thickness of the air palpable as you stepped into the kitchen and saw the grim look on your mother's face.

The saying goes that a starving savage is less likely to ravage your home if you give it a single meal-- and such began the gruesome, superstitious tradition... Once a year, one unlucky village that bordered the human kingdom would be chosen to place the names of all it's unmarried, of-age residents into a box and perform a drawing. Whichever sorry soul was picked would be ripped away from their homes by the temple, never to be seen again. The nobility liked to call it one of the "highest of all honors" a commoner could receive. The common people? You call it human sacrifice.

At least, most of your people do. Despite that being so, the vast majority of the population feared the very notion of abandoning the ritual. Why? Because the entire purpose was to "sate the otherfolk's thirst for human blood." One sacrifice, one year free from their wrath.

Your skin crawled at the very idea of it all as you leant down, clumsy hands tying up the laces of your worn leather boots.

As a child, you believed every word that hung off of the elders' tongues down near the pub. The fascination and wonder of another terrifying world outside the kingdom's tall, stone walls ignited your naive little heart. But with age, it grew evident to you that they were no more than simple old widows and drunkards with nothing better to do with their remaining time than talk stories and scare little children with tall tales. How were you supposed to believe beasts, much less entire civilizations of them, would be satisfied by the blood of one person if they truly wanted to attack a meager village, much less an entire country? Who decided they even wanted that blood? It was an argument you’d tried to raise countless times with your village council only to have it shot down with a simple “Well the Chosen never return, do they?” It pissed you off to no end. It didn't even take two wrinkles in the brain to conclude that it was more likely the animals of the woods, the elements-- or worse, other humans that caused the sacrificed to meet their demise; but no point you made would ever change their stone cold hearts.

And as though your age wasn't enough to make this birthday sour, the drawing was to be held this evening. The irony of someone losing their life on the day of your birth was palpable. Taking your usual chair at the kitchen table, you noticed the way two of your brothers squabbled over the last roll. With spiteful retaliation, you plucked it from between them taking a slow, mocking bite right in front of their faces. Maybe next time they'd think twice before ganging up to practically assault you out of bed.

"(y/n)?" Your head snapped up to attention, meeting your father's gaze. "How are you feeling?" You swallowed the fluffy bread quickly shooting a quiet reply. "I'm alright. Would feel a little better if you guys would stop lookin at me like I'm headed to the gallows." The laugh you were awarded from him was dry, but it eased some of the tension in his weathered shoulders nonetheless.

"I suppose it is a bit stuffy in here for a birthday, huh?" Your mother piped up sheepishly, wiping her hands on the dishtowel that hung from a belt on her hip. "Say, why don't you go visit Alikar? Trade some of our tomatoes for a basket of peaches-- bring those back and I'll make a pie we can all have after the drawing, how does that sound?" The little heads in the room visibly perked at the idea of getting their grubby little paws on something sweet. It wasn't often you had the sugar for such things after all.

Dismissing the idea of having to attend the black box event, you gave her a gentle nod. "Sure, I can do that. Need anything else while I'm out?" You inquired, stuffing the rest of the bread into your mouth before your youngest brother could snatch it from your hand. "No, dear. Just finish your breakfast and we'll handle the rest."

After practically beating your siblings off the table with a stick to get your fill, you quickly washed up and plucked the basket from the floor. “I’m off!” You called, getting no discernible acknowledgement as the chaos in the house never ceased. No matter to you-- the pie would be well worth the trip ahead.

Uncle Alikar.

The man was a huge part of the reason you didn’t believe a lick of all that ‘savage otherfolk’ nonsense. As your feet scuffed along the well worn path, old memories bubbled up to the surface like froth from the babbling brook that ran beside you.

You were the eldest of your siblings which, consequently, meant that when you'd been a rumbling little runt there were no older kids to show you the ropes and your parents' first trial run at raising a whole little person. This always resulted in you tumbling headfirst into trouble, but one day it had gone a little too far. Your tiny body approached the ledge of the stream. The same edge you would use every summer to hunt tadpoles. But, unbeknownst to you, the soil that was far too saturated with yesterday's rain to hold your weight. Without warning, it crumbled beneath your little feet sending you hurtling down into the rushing waters below. The merciless current carried you faster downstream than your father could run and just when your little head was wrenched under the raging current, a large beast sprung into the water after you. Before you could even process what had happened, your little lungs were hacking up the water they're inhaled, the coughing doing little for the burn in your lungs.

At first it was all a blur, you could hear your parents shouting as well as another rumbling voice above you responding back to them. Your little legs dangling far above the ground as a muscular arm stayed firmly wrapped around your waist. Someone was... holding you? You blinked away the tears, looking up to be met with a mouth full of razor-like teeth, thick sopping wet fur, and bright, slitted eyes. Misunderstanding what was going on, you began to cry out in fear. You were absolutely terrified you were about to be eaten by the ravenous river monster your mother warned you about countless times in attempt to dissuade you from wandering near the water when they weren't watching you. Only when those large paws handed you off to your mother ever-so-gently did you begin to quiet back down "Are you alright now, sweetpea? Ol' Alikar didn't mean to spook ya. Poor thing." He was some kind of rakshasa or tabaxi, evident by the sopping tail that swayed in the water behind him and round, fluffy ears that tilted back with concern. Speaking of...

Your knuckles rapped against the wooden door, sending warm clunks into the cottage. It was a serene place far from the human village which was always surrounded by the sweet smells of fruit and scents of warm, freshly made bread. Not but a few seconds later the upper half of the door swung open and there, in all his striped glory, was Alikar himself. “There’s the birthday girl!” He greeted you, his smile full of sharp teeth. A sight that originally took some getting used to but was now synonymous with a second home. “Hey Uncle Al. Mama sent me down to get some peaches for a pie.” You raised your basket of tomatoes.

He only chuckled in reply. “Oh, I know, how else was I supposed to give you your gift?” His paw pushed the lower part of the door open, welcoming you inside-- the scent of herbs and butter wafting much stronger from within. Surprised, you could only follow dumbly after him at first, setting the basket down as you took a seat on his kitchen table.

“A gift? Since when do you have the extra funds to get me gifts?! Aren’t you saving for the wedding? What about--”

“Would you hush, child?” He laughed, taking amusement in your fretting. “You’re still new to the whole womanhood thing, what do you know about adult troubles?” You gave a halfhearted growl at him but had no argument to fire back at him. Even though you'd been considered an adult in human standards for quite a few years, Alikar did have more experience than you in that department.

"You get onto me about my finances but I don't see you moving out of your parents' home yet." He teased, carefully unloading every piece of fruit from the wicker basket with care. "Don't bully me! I'm plenty experienced in other things!" You whined. Snatching one of the many apples he'd left unattended. The crisp sweetness did little to nurse your slightly bruised ego but the coolness of the juice as it dribbled down you chin quenched plenty other, more satisfying needs. "Yeah? And what would your area of foreign expertise be? Apple thieving?"

You glared at his back, cheeks tinting "No! Like conversation! And courting."

"Pah!" He scoffed, soft paws stacking the soft, pink fruit into a neat arrangement. "Much good your 'experience' has gotten you, I am the only one getting married here out of the two of us." Okay. Ouch. "And I converse plenty well, thank you very much!"

The afternoon passed with similar banter as you stuffed yourself with whatever fruits Alikar let you get your hands on. In the end he had given you a carefully carved wooden totem of your favorite animal, peaches, and sent you on your way. Whatever wood the little figure was made from gave a faint, sweet scent when wet with water. A bit ironic considering how you met all those years ago but you appreciated it nonetheless.

You had asked him if he’d have wanted to come and celebrate with you and your family but, regretfully, he had to decline. As charming and kind as he was, the path to your home was far too close to the village for his comfort and the idea of one of your acquaintances or friends coming to celebrate as well and reporting him sent the hairs on the back his neck straight upward. It was no secret the village wasn’t excited about strange, new creatures given the black box tradition, so it was doubtful Alikar would be in the public eye anytime soon, as unfortunate as that was…

You didn’t realize how much time you’d wasted until the shadows began stretching longer, snuffing out much of whatever light the day had left for you. “Ah shit.” You mumbled. You'd definitely missed the drawing, and at this rate you wouldn't be able to eat sweets till the next morning. Speeding up from a mozy to a quick trot back up the hill was unpleasant to say the least, but damn if those thoughts of peach pie didn't motivated you to haul ass.

However, as you drew closer your eagerness was smothered.

Hunching down, you quickly used the cover of the thorny brush to peer out at the scene below-- The terrified cries of your siblings pierced through your chest.

“Where’s the girl?!” A man demanded, spear to your father’s throat and eyes unwavering as your mother pled, voice breaking with fear as her children clung to her skirts.

“Dunno what you’re talkin’ bout.” Your father replied curtly, looking the assailant back in the face with matching fury and anger. “I've only got sons.” The hair on the back of your neck stood up. Only once before, in your entire life, had you heard such a chilling tone come from that man. You'd been no older than 12 when a suitor equal to your mother in age offered to pay a hefty sum for your hand in marriage. The cruel chill in his voice as he sent the man away stuck with you-- but it didn't seem like this scenario would have the same outcome.

“Have it your way.”

A pit knotted itself in your breast as your family’s pleas turned to screaming cries, the spear cutting into you father's shoulder without mercy. Everything seemed to move so slowly after that...

First, you'd prayed he'd give in, relenting your location to the angry mob that surrounded him-- but your father stayed silent. That same fury in his eyes unwavering as he stayed on his feet.

Second, you though, maybe, the crowd would believe they'd truly made a mistake. Maybe a (y/n) didn't live in this village. Perhaps they'd been mistaken-- but that hope was quickly snuffed out as the spear-wielding man reeled the weapon back again, poised to strike.

You hadn't even known what you were doing as you pushed through the thorny brambles. Didn't even register as your fingers curled around a plump peach from your basket. And certainly didn't realize the strength you'd shot through your arm as you slung the fruit straight into the back of the man's head.

The hard impact followed by the splatter of sweet juices dripping down his neck was followed only by a second of silence.

Then two.

Then three.

All heads turning in your direction....

Run.

It was nothing more than instinct as you dropped the precious wicker basket your mother had weaved to the ground-- Alikar's carefully nurtured peaches bruising in the dirt. You shot back through the thorns. Dress skirt shredding, legs practically minced as you rushed through the uncaring wild.

Everything blurred.

Heart racing, the sound of shouting, the thundering of feet right on your tail. It was so much, too much-- too soon. There was no where else you could go. You didn't even know where you were going. Run. Run. RUN.

And run you did, even as your calves burned and blood dripped down your skin, you flew through the woods in a desperate flurry. It was fruitless though. Your wreckless abandon being brought to a halt with a blistering pain that shot through your ribs. The last thing you saw was the sight of the ground coming right at you, and then? Darkness.

I was going to wait till I finished part 2 to post this part but I'm too excited and part 2 is about halfway written anyway :) Stay tuned!

pt. 2

#lavenderslabyrinth #teratophillia #monster x reader #x reader #monster fucker #dragon x reader #king!dragon x reader #forced marriage trope #fantasy romance #rewrite #teratophillia x reader

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