#;;Out for morning prayers. [OOC]

[saintharted]

Starter call, cap at 6! They’ll be short and lyric-based.

Multimuses, specify muse. 

Friendly reminder that this blog will only write with mutuals outside of asks.

#;;Out for morning prayers. [OOC]

[just-a-sewer-goblin]

Not A Hero Just A Good Man

Simon Riley x Reader (probably ooc) Simon's home from deployment and he needs his spouse Fluff and very slight hurt/comfort Should be gn!reader, if I messed up anywhere please tell me There is mentions of a girly bodywash that is owned by the reader but... anyone can own those

"I need you to understand that I'm not the nice one out there, luv. I'm not the good cop. I'm not the hero."

You're sitting next to Simon on your shared bed, he's still in his gear, but his mask is in his hands and he's absent mindedly grabbing and rubbing at it.

"Luv, if you knew only half the stuff I've done. The absolute horrendous things I've done to people. And I'd do them again. And I will do them again."

He's growing distressed. His brows are drawn together and his rubbing over the skull part becomes harsh. He'll hurt himself at this rate.

So you get up and kneel down before him, force yourself into his view. Your hands oh so gently take the mask from his and the care with which you put it onto his nightstand chokes Simon up.

You slip your hands into his. He's still wearing his gloves, there's blood all over them.

As he looks down and sees your delicate, perfect hands in his blodied hold, the tears start gathering. He's trying to pull his hands away but you grip him harder. His glistening eyes find yours.

"I didn't marry a hero, Simon. I didn't marry someone who has a nice job or lives in a nice reality."

He's looking to the side trying to avoid your gaze. His hands are still limp in yours, refusing to hold onto you when there's still the gore of his actions clinging to his clothes and his skin.

You're gently easing the gloves off his hands and let them fall to the floor. His knuckles are bloody and split, even under the protective layer.

He swears he lets loose a sob when you bend down to press two soft kisses to the palms of his hands. He's ripping his hands away from you, cradling them to his chest.

"No.", your harsh tone makes his gaze snap back to yours again and when you grab his hands again he reluctantly lets you have them.

"Don't you dare look away from me, Simon Riley." You can see how hard he has to fight to obey your words. You can see his panting breaths get harsher and your grip is so soft, that if he truly didn't want to have you touching him, he could pull away. As if you could ever hold him against his will.

You take one of his hands and press it against your chest, deliberately drawing in deep and steady breaths and waiting until he is following your example.

"I didn't marry a hero, Simon. I married a good man."

You can audibly hear him gulp.

"I married a good man, who is willing to do the ugly work. I married a good man, who gets his hands dirty so the world is just a tiny bit cleaner."

His entire focus is on you as he hangs on to every word you say.

"I married a good man, who does horrible things. But those things need to be done. I'd rather have a good man, like my husband, do them, than someone who doesn't care at all. Someone who finds joy in them. I married a good man. And when you come home, blodied and bruised I will still love you. And when you come home after you did the worst imaginable things, things I don't even know possible, I'll still love you. And when you do horrendous things again, I will still love you. I love you."

He's looking at you and the tears catch in his eyelashes like soft morning dew on the most intricate petals. You have never seen a man more beautiful than your Simon. You have never seen anything more beautiful than the man, he allows you to see through the cracks in his walls.

"Love...", he breathes. And it's reverent, a prayer. As if you are the deity that holds his absolution. As if your words alone can save him from the damnation he suffers.

His hands slowly reach up, cup your cheeks. He's about to pull back when he sees the blood on his hands next to your unblemished face but your hands cover his and you nuzzle into the hold of a killer.

His body bows foreward, into your warmth and his chapped lips fit against yours. As soon as your lips touch he whimpers and your hands find their way to his cheek and neck, holding him close.

You only pull back enough to touch your forehead to his, both of you keeping your eyes closed.

"My Simon.", you whisper into his skin and his arms wrap around you as he lets his head fall to your shoulder, buries his face in your neck and starts shaking.

You grab onto him just as tightly. It's uncomfortable the way you're on your knees half risen to meet him in the middle but you don't care when you start humming and gently swaying.

You don't know if he's crying, probably not, but he's still shaking so you tighten your hold and whisper your love for him into the quiet of your bedroom.

When his breaths start to get quick and shallow again you force him back, cup his face and demand "Simon, look at me."

He does, his gaze is unfocused, and he's panting way too fast, but he's trying to focus on you. He's not too far gone so you check in first "Touch?" He nods in a jerky movement.

Your hands go to his again and you hold both of them to your chest with one, the other one finds his neck and puts gentle pressure there.

"Match my breaths, darling.", you instruct. He obeys.

Today is a good day, as you are able to bring him back from the brink for a second time. Slowly his eyes blink back into awareness and your gentle smile cracks open his ribcage and sets his bleeding heart free.

"There he is. Hi."

"Hi, luv." His voice is horribly rough a splintering sound like old rotten wood breaking apart but he doesn't miss the way your hand on his neck squeezes affectionately.

"Let me give you a shower?" He nods, too tired afer two almost panic attacks to answer. You stand up and offer him a hand which he takes and allows you to pretend to pull him up.

You don't let go of his hand as you pull him into the bathroom, maneuvering him so he can lean back against the sink. You know that he's tired, but you also know that the last thing he needs to see right now is himself, still covered in blood, and you taking care of that mess for him. So you don't give him the opportunity to gaze at the reflection of what's going on in the mirror over the sink.

Once you've eased every piece of armor and clothing off of him, you usher him into the shower, under the warm spray of water before following him.

Once your both under the water, your wrap your arms around him and just hold him. When he sighs you can feel the way his lungs fill up to their limit.

It's a long time before you take the bottle of shampoo into your hands and put some of it in your hands.

"Bend down for me?", you murmur.

Simon gets on his knees before you instead, buries his face in your tummy and relaxes as your hands begin to massage the shampoo into his scalp.

You're careful while rinsing it out and he presses a soft kiss to your tummy before standing up. A thank you and a offering at the altar of the only deity he'll ever worship. Then he's standing again, his hands on your hips, while you begin to lather his body in your own body wash.

You can feel him relax and it doesn't take long before he gives you the gift of his voice, even if it is so say: "Damnit darlin', making me smell like a princess?"

He's grumbling affectionately and you grin. There he is. It's always a good sign when he starts being a grump about stuff he secretly loves. It's always a good sign when he starts with his horrible dry humour.

"No one says that big dangerous men can't be princesses.", you quip back and see the way the corner of his mouth lifts up.

"I'm too manly to smell like...", he squints at the bottle. "Rainbow sunshine." He snorts. "Sounds like something that would come out of a unicorn's ass."

You laugh and slap his chest. "You are the worst, Si. Guess you gotta suck it up and smell like unicorn ass."

"The shit I go through for you.", he grouses and you can hear the grin in his voice.

When you've rinsed him off again he puts his arms around you again and pulls you into him, resting his head on yours.

"Thank you, luv."

"Always, baby."

...

"Now get your unicorn ass out of this shower so I can dry you off and cuddle with you."

He laughs roughly and slaps your backside. "The only one with a magical ass here, is you, luv."

#the sewer writes #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x gn!reader #ghost x gn!reader #simon riley cod #simon ghost riley #fluff #hurt/comfort #cod simon x reader #cod simon riley x reader

[hhonghu]

Morning glory

;; kabukimono x reader

cw: fluff, ooc!kabukimono ?, mutual pining, unestablished relationship

to make up for my long absence, here is some lovey dovey thrown at your way <33 i'll get back writing on what i promised soon!

knock knock!

"mmh.." kabukimono groans, rolling on to his side and pulling the blanket closer to him and burrowing his face into it. just 5 more minutes, he thought. there's nothing wrong with sleeping just a bit more. just a little more.

he and niwa spent nearly almost the entire night awake, trying to perfect the technique that kabukimono studied for forging and begged niwa to stay up with him until he got it right. after several tries and hours passed, kabukimono was finally satisfied all the while niwa was nearly about to pass out of exhaustion, giving him a shaky smile and telling him that it's late and that they should head to bed.

knock knock!

"come on, sleepyhead! wake up! the sun has risen!" kabukimono groans again, mumbling out a little "nooo..". niwa heard the little complaint and tried not to laugh. it was technically the early hours of the morning, the sun having yet to rise much. "that's what you get for staying up late. come on, get up!" second pass and still no answer. niwa sighs, about to walk away before an idea pops in.

"alright, fine. sleep in for today. you deserve it for working hard last night." niwa walks away slowly as possible, making sure his voice is still heard. "too bad you'll miss [name]. they might wonder why you didn't come by this morning and feed them."

kabukimono bolts up, eyes wide awake and sleep gone from his body. [name]! how could he forget! how could he let sleep take him over like that?

he shuffles out of his bed and opening his door, scurrying down the hallway and down the stairs, passing by niwa who was letting out a laugh. "who knew that [name] was the prayer i needed to get you to wake up?" kabukimono reached the bottom and turned his head around, sticking his tongue out a little at him. "don't get ideas, niwa."

he freshens himself up and heads to the kitchen, rolling up his sleeves above his elbows. he still had time to make you a dish, he can't miss it. he begins to work his way in the kitchen, taking out ingredients to make katsu sandwiches for you and rice omelette for niwa and starting to cook, making sure that everything is right.

after everything is done and cooked, he plates the rice omelette and calls out for niwa to come and eat while he puts the sandwiches neatly inside a lunchbox, wrapping it around with a pretty purple silk cloth. niwa comes in the kitchen, humming seeing the food on the table. kabukimono fixes his clothes, dusting off crumbs and whatnot on him. he grabs the lunchbox, bidding goodbye to niwa. "alright! be safe and tell [name] to come by and pick up some iron when they have the time!"

kabukimono waves and heads out the door, walking away from the shop and making his way to you.

what a pretty sun.

you gaze at the rising sun, slowly peeking up from the horizon. you lean your head back further into the tree, letting out a sigh of content. you feel gentle breezes pass by you, brushing through your hair. you close your eyes, letting this calm moment take you in.

while you relax, you don't notice kabukimono approaching you. his eyes lands on your relaxed face and his heart softens, his pace slowing until he takes a complete stop, just staring at you, the soft glow of the rising sun kissing your skin.

you suddenly open your eyes and slightly turn your head around, smiling as you spot him. "hm? well if it isn't my favorite boy. what kept you from me?" you tease. kabukimono's face flushes, his grip on the lunch box tightens. what kept you from me? he felt his heart start to beat a little faster, the way you just said it makes him feel so much.

"i, uhm, almost slept in.." he bites his lip, "i stayed up late with niwa last night to practice some techniques and ended up burning the midnight oil.." you let out a little chuckle, "did you now? aren't you such a hardworking student. come, sit. don't just stand there, the grass beside me feels empty without you." you pat the empty spot next to you.

kabukimono scrambles and takes a seat next to you, still holding the lunchbox. "here.. uh, i made you something." he hands you the lunchbox, his hands shaking a little. you smile and take it from him, making him jolt a little as your fingers touches his. "you know, i'm still surprised you wake up this early to catch me here." you unwrap the lunchbox, "though i don't mind, your cooking is what makes me look forward being here under this tree. it makes me feel as if it's made just for me."

kabukimono tries not to squirm, heat creeping up from his neck to his cheeks. your mouth, your words, it's making his stomach do flips. it will always be for you, no one else. "haha, well, it's a nice way to start the day, no?" you nod as you open the lunchbox and your mouth waters as you look at the meal. "are these katsu sandwiches?" kabukimono nods, smiling as you take one out and take a little sniff, he could almost see glitters in your eyes. "this smells absolutely divine. thank you for the meal." you take a bite, letting out a content moan as you chew. it was delicious.

kabukimono watches as you eat happily, resting his cheek on the palm of his hand. his eyes traces you; from your lashes to your hands, he watches in admiration as you just eat. you glance at him, seeing him staring deeply back at you. you take a sandwich and pull it in half, twisting your upper body to face him and lifting the piece to his mouth with your hand.

"here, open up." kabukimono's eyes widen, what did you mean? "taste what you cooked, it's delicious." he shook his head, "no, no, no! that's just for you. i couldn't possibly—" he pauses, your free hand cupping his cheek and your thumb touching the bottom of his lip. his breath hitches.

"now, now. just give it a try." he didn't know what got into him, he really doesn't. he slightly opens his mouth and you smile, "good boy." you put the piece in his mouth and let go, letting him chew. he wasn't paying attention to the flavor, in fact he doesn't even know what he's tasting. his focus was on you and the way you praised him, he felt his heart jump.

he swallows, finally finished eating what you gave. "how was it? good, right?" kabukimono nods, "you should be a chef instead of a forger. you could go places with these." you finish your sandwiches, closing the lunchbox and wrapping back the silk cloth around it.

"thank you for the meal, kabukimono. it was delicious." you hand back the box to him and he takes, letting it rest on his lap. "of course, i'm glad you liked it." comfortable silence fills in the air, both of you leaning back on the tree and watching the sun finally rise, basking you both in it's light.

you take a glance at kabukimono, his eyes was closed. you watched as the sun touches his cheeks, making him glow beautifully in the morning sun. you looked away and back to the horizon, letting out a small sigh and close your eyes.

what a pretty sun.

#ems.writes #genshin x reader #genshin fluff #genshin imagines #kabukimono x reader #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader

[liliewrites]

"MY CONVICTION"

a/n : hallo! part 3 of the worship series, and i am glad to announce that this series was a success!! yay, now that it's done. i hope you all look forward to my next one about to be released next week:)) thank u for readinggg hihi:)) again, big thanks to haddy for editinggg:))

-warning/s ; somewhat religious motifs(?), NSFW, fingering. furina might be a little ooc.

-pairings/s ; furina x fem!reader

- where in; these three women worship you, their lover, when hundreds and thousands, even millions of followers would drop on their knees to ask for blessings, for mercy, for prayers - and yet for you, at your beck and call, they would do anything you ask as they kneel for you at the same time, as proof of their devotion to you.

(men and minors dni utc!)

”Mon amour.."

The Hydro Archon sighed happily as she stared at your sleeping face. The both of you lie on the bed you both shared, with her holding you in her arms. she tucked the strands of hair behind your ear for she cannot help but ponder, have you ever realized how dazzling you are? Oh, for every moment she spent with you, each one not only ingrained within her mind— but burned within her soul. How could she forget? No, for she cannot. With every script she reads, for every poem she recites, for every song that she sings, if it relates to love that she feels for you then she cannot help but yearn for you. If she was deemed the star of Fontaine, then you were the muse of her every work.

To the people of Fontaine, she is the god of splendor and justice and with it, a heavy burden comes along and hides itself beneath the flamboyant façade she puts on whenever she bears the title. To her lover however, she was no more than herself— none more than a woman in love. The only time that she can ever recognize herself, was not when she held Fontaine within her hands, but when you held her within your own. She knows that she has a duty to fulfill, a prophecy to honor, an oath to her people— but sometimes she cannot help but wish that things had gone a different path, where she could just be herself with you. She sighed wistfully, nuzzling her face in the crook of your neck as an unnerving feeling of longing sank into her chest. 

Unbeknownst to the Archon however, her actions caused you to slowly awaken. You don’t move for a while, trying to grasp your senses for a moment. She only realized that you were conscious when you wrapped your arms around her waist as you let out a giggle, feeling ticklish at her nuzzling her face in your neck. “Mon amour, what.. oh, oh! I'm sorry, did I wake you up?” she worriedly pulled away from you, a feeling of guilt for interrupting your slumber.

However, she’d be lying if she said she didn’t feel her heart flutter at your gorgeous smile. “It is fine, cheri, I… don’t mind.” You yawned, leaning in to kiss her cheek with a wide smile. Oh, Celestia, her fiancé was both adorable and handsome even with bed hair and tired, morning eyes. However, you cannot help but noticed the melancholic stare Furina bore upon you and it worried you. “Is there something troubling you, cheri?” You ask, raising your head from her chest to take a better look at her face. The Hydro Archon seems surprised that you had seen through her, but this was not the first time you've had done so, you know her too well. Besides Neuvilette, it was only ever you who came to know her without her famous façade. She looked away, avoiding your gaze, not knowing exactly what words to say to you for she cannot admit her troubles.

You no longer press on, no longer wanting to make her feel uncomfortable or sad. So you leaned in to kiss her, causing her to be surprised once more but with a flustered expression this time. “Mon amour?” she asked, confused from your sudden shift of mood. You smiled at her, said no more, before pulling her in for a kiss. As you pulled away however, you couldn’t help laughing at the look on her face. Her cheeks a maddening red, her gaze flustered as she lay beneath you. “My Furina, you look so... baffled.” You chuckled, sitting up on top of her.

Furina was a woman of many words, but at the sight of you, it was as if she had became illiterate. It frustrated her that she couldn't find the right word to properly describe you, for your radiance was far more beyond than simple words. All you were doing was sitting on her lap with a messy button on, and you had already taken her breath away. “Mon amour...you look so...” her words laced with an obvious ache you couldn’t find the reason of, but she pulled you in to press her lips against yours and you could feel the yearning from her kiss.

Needy kisses turned into needy hands, the Archon’s hands slowly leaving your neck to settle on your thighs at her sides. you could feel her gentle caresses become needy grips, hands full of flesh, wanting to feel more of you as her sighs turned into whimpers. “Mon amour…I need you.. .” she whined against your lips, breathing heavily as you pulled away a little. 

“Then take me, ma cheri..” you mumbled, making Furina’s mind go hazy with the thought of only you. She looked at you with an enamored stare with her hands fumbling with the buttons of your button up. She was way too focused on her newfound intention to please you to feel embarrassed, but you found her trembling hands extremely adorable.

With your front exposed, her eyes froze at the sight of your bare body. Oh, gorgeous, gorgeous you. She immediately leaned in to press her lips against your tummy, loving the taste of your skin. Her hand went in to grab and squeeze your hips, completely addicted to the warmth that radiated from the fibers of your every being. You, you, you– her heart only wanted you and she could only hope that you wanted her the same way too. 

Whimpers left her mouth as she continued to kissed and sucked on your body, too lost in the feeling of drowning in the feeling of you to realize how your moans were slowly increasing in volume. Her lips met your ample chest, a gentle kiss. “Mon amour, I want to…  I want to hear from you, please?” She pleaded, looking up at you with pleading eyes that bore into you, making you unable to say no. You answered her question with your hands finding its way around her neck, hands pressed against her nape with your fingers tangled in her hair.

With your approval, Furina had let herself loose with her desire to please you and abandoned all restraint from doing so. Her hand moved to caress your lower back, pulling you in closer to her as if she wanted you to melt into her. Her mind was only filled with you, the sounds you make and how you shiver with every touch of her hand. Gently, gently, she thought, you were none but a gentle briar to her. She felt as if you’d fall apart with one wrong touch and that was against the best of her wishes. She only wanted to make love to you, to make you feel the enamor that you’d sparked within her. Right now, she was not a god, but a slave to your rapture.

Her hand crept up to the middle of your thighs, softly kneading at your flesh. “Mon amour, if only you could witness the sight you behold, then you’d come to know the desperation that you had invoked in me.” She mumbled, not louder than a whisper as she slid her hand higher. Your breath hitching, eyes closing, it made Furina question whatever had she done that deserved to see such breathtaking wonders. Her hands tugged off your panties, wanting to uncover more of you despite the fact that you had shown more than she deserved to see. Her heart fluttered at the sight, your slick dripping down your thighs and onto her hand. To Furina, it was a blessing endowed upon her by Celestia above- no, for you were the blessing itself granted to her by Celestia, and she was more than honored to call you as hers, and to have been the object of your affection.

As if to test the waters, not wanting to startle you, she gently ran a finger along your slit. her actions caused you to let out a shaky breath, tickling against Furina’s skin. “Ma cheri, please- don’t tease...” You moaned in a pleading tone and Furina's heart couldn’t handle the sound of your begging, no, she didn’t want that. She wanted to hear your blessed sounds of pleasure, to have it ringing in her ears endlessly as you writhe above her. 

“Mon amour, I’m not trying to tease...” She whined, sounding like a dejected puppy. Her fingers repeated the same motions from earlier, before finally complying to your wishes. 

“See? I’m doing my best to please you…” She mumbled in a whiny tone, wanting to prove to you her words, ending it with a kiss to your shoulder. She pulled you into her, as close as she could, as two of her fingers moved in to slowly feel your walls constricting around her. she couldn’t help but let out a whine of her own at your moans, wanting and needing more of it— of you and the blessing of witnessing you. 

“Mon amour, you sound so beautiful..” she whispers against your shoulder, kissing it once more as her fingers increased its speed, trying to find the perfect pace to make you feel the same delirium she feels just from looking at you. 

“Ma cheri- you’re doing great, more… more...” You pleaded in her ear, your hips bucking as you found yourself wanting more and more of Furina. Furina happily complied, absolutely delighted to see you immersing yourself in the pleasure. Her fingers pressed harder against the spots she knew you loved the most, her fingers settling on the pace that she was sure to drive you crazy.

Endless moans of her name spilled from your mouth, one after another, Furina.. Furina.. Furina, you kept repeating in her ear and with every mention of her name, you held onto Furina tighter and tighter. You toppled on top of her, completely leaning into her with your face buried into her neck as you felt your whole body weaken and tremble with pleasure, much to the Archon’s delight. 

“Furina- ma cheri.. I can't- I'm..”

You couldn’t even find it in you to form proper words, so Furina pressed reassuring kisses upon the crown of your head, as she was unable to kiss your face even if she wanted to. Your nails were digging into her back and she could feel it through her clothes. A little whimper leaked out her mouth but her movements didn’t falter. She kept going, wanting to see you reach your high and be immersed in it.

A loud cry left your lips as you completely reached your high, you could feel your insides throbbed around Furina’s fingers and she could feel it too. She watched you as you basked in your own euphoria, her mind capturing this moment like an eternal painting in her memories. You were far too out of this world, and as your follower, her belief in your enchanting allure remains firm and constant within her mind.

As you tried to catch your breath, Furina held you in her arms as she did before. It was only then when she realized that it was raining outside and as the fervor melted away, she could feel the cold air within the room and brush against her skin. Upon knowing that you were barely wearing anything, she immediately pulled the covers upon the both of you, cradling you against her to keep you warm. 

“Mon amour, are you feeling cold?” she asks, concerned about your well being. You let out a content sigh, not budging even a little bit, just wanting to sink into her warmth. 

“Ma cheri, if I may ask now, what was it that was troubling you?” You gently pry, but Furina knows she can’t tell. instead, she presses a soft kiss to your cheek. 

“Nothing, mon amour. when the deed has been done, I promise you...” She whispered lovingly into your ears, closing her eyes as she relished in her warmth- fearing that she may never once again, but she hopes that wouldn’t be the case. “I will find my way back to you, always. Mon cheri, even if Celestia forbids it.”

You no longer questioned her words, instead choosing to trust your lover. To the people of Fontaine, she was their god, their savior— you knew that she held many secrets of her own, a world that you cannot pry into yet to you, she was your lover. She was your Furina, the silly girl you had come to love and wished to hold. The woman on stage that you wished to kiss and yearn to be with for as long as you could. Alas, you couldn’t help but sigh at the implications of her words. “If you say so, ma cheri. I love you.” You answer and Furina feels as if all her burdens were taken away with your words. 

“Thank you for understanding, mon amour. I love you too…” She replied and she does love you- she really does. All she had to do now was find a way to fulfill the promise to her people so she could also fulfill her promise to you, wanting to experience more of life's greatest joys beside the woman she loves most.

#furina x reader #furina x reader smut #furina x female reader #furina genshin impact #furina smut #lilac writes💜 #ugh furina.. girlfailure girlprince i love u..

[mentallyisekaid]

「 ✦ Fatui Harbingers x Signora's Sister! Reader, PART 3 ✦ 」

---

Part 1 Part 2 Part 2.5 [Part 3]

It's highly recommended to read the parts in order, otherwise few things will make sense!

A/N ~ hey there, if you're following this story but haven't yet seen my pinned post, you should go and read it since it's where I'll update general stuff regarding the fic~

---

Featured in this chapter, we have... a certain dubious duo?

Warnings: half-intentional ooc moments

Word count: 2.3k

---

A week or so had passed.

It's not that you were complaining about this endless 'trial period', per se. Still, just going through piles of boring documents, day after day - any immortal being would've lost their mind sooner or later.

Half a millennium dulled all shine there was to a mundane life, so seeking out a bit of excitement was crucial for maintaining sanity. But even making bets with Childe wasn't thrilling enough (though it did come close!)

Without a drastic change of pace soon, you might have just gone feral.

And your colleagues were quite aware of it~ In time, you better believe they would've even stolen the Moon from the sky for you if you only asked for it, but nevertheless, first, you needed to prove that they could trust you.

The Fatui took immense pride in loyalty - yet yours was very fickle, and they knew it. But rather than allegiance, what your Harbingers seeked for was sign of your devotion toward them, something that exceeded the boundaries of professionalism and demonstrated... a much deeper level of trust.

"Was revealing the secret of this stupid Vision a mistake, after all?" a thought that had plagued your mind.

Well, who could say... but apparently, it had been worth it!

No one could really fathom Pierro's decisions, but it seems that after hearing you'd confided a part of your past to some of them, the Director had thought you'd proved yourself enough. And maybe it was because he knew you just a bit too well, having been there all those centuries ago.

But did this mean that all of them now knew of your little conversation with Scaramouche, Columbina and Childe?

Well, such a thought hardly occupied you.

Because more importantly, you were finally about to get (*insert an ominous fanfare*)...

Your very first field mission!

Good riddance, eternal paperwork~

---

A sign of their trust, or... just another test?

You didn't care either way.

"Lady Harbinger," a Cicin Mage had bowed her head after entering your office. "The Jester has assigned you to an official errand with Lords Ninth and Second. You are to rendezvous with them at the gates. Effective immediately."

And girl, you couldn't have bolted out of that room faster! It made the poor Cicins squeak in alarm. The mage only sighed while shaking her head, not sure that you'd come out of this one with your sanity still intact.

So, your bored prayers had been heard. But by the gods, or a devil? A field assignment with this specific pair of Harbingers had the potential to turn out chaotic beyond belief...

and you were all for it!

It was daybreak in Snezhnaya.

The early morning air was even more frigid than usual, making your grip the coat on around you tighter as you waltzed through the snowy yard. From a distance, you could make out two shadowy figures next to the gates of Zapolyarny Palace, their menacing auras unmistakable.

When Regrator and Il Dottore were working together, anyone even remotely involved had better be on their guard...

Lest they wanted to end up in horrible debt.

Or as a part of human experiments.

But the shady banker and the heretic researcher had failed to intimidate you, and they found such fearlessness quite... captivating.

As you got closer, Pantalone offered you a warm smile.

"Good morning, dear. Did you sleep well?"

"Hello... and no, *yawn*... it's impossible to get decent rest with these working hours. But," a smile made its way onto your lips, "I'm pleased to finally get to work outside of the palace~"

And with the two of you, it might just be twice as fun, a totally weird thought that you didn't voice out, and instead sighed:

"Though, at the cost of skipping my yummy breakfast pancakes..."

You took a bite from the frostbitten, red fruit in your hand. This earned a chuckle from Dottore.

"No, no, you won't get sufficient vitamins from that. How about trying the special pills I gave you? You'd help me with my research while you're at it, too..."

"I'm afraid your experimental supplements might end up turning me into a slime."

An apple a day hardly kept this doctor away. But much to everyone's surprise, you seemed to know how to handle his eccentric personality and... the segments. Even Scaramouche was impressed by this.

"Don't you look rather young today, Zandik?" you questioned with a hint of playfulness; a habit you'd picked up from Damselette.

The Doctor only replied with a smile, gently sweeping away a few snowflakes from your hair as if admiring a most precious specimen (no objectifying here, Dottore's just being Dottore~)

This one seemed to be of the more reasonable segments, if such a concept even existed - though regardless of the form, you were really quite fond of their antics.

Pantalone, too, was a difficult person in his own way, knowing how to both frustrate you to no ends, and yet make you feel so endeared.

As usual, the banker seemed just a bit too amused by everything.

That, and he found you adorable.

"Hehe, I must admit that dealing with the two of you off-duty is always rather delightful~ but we ought to leave duly," he stepped forward and offered you his hand. "After all, we wouldn't want to be late on Y/N's first mission, now would we?"

Dottore mimicked his gesture. "Indeed, off we go."

These two....

But on that note?

"Dare I ask," you raised an eyebrow, "what the mission might be?"

They only smiled at you - Pantalone while adjusting his glasses, Dottore with his expression half hidden by that asymmetrical mask, and both in a suspiciously mellow way.

You frowned. Pierro had definitely been up to something when sending you on a nameless errand, and with this dubious duo, no less...

and you were quite enjoying the suspense!

---

Three Harbingers waltzing through the snowy streets, a dozen of Fatui agents following close behind, was a slightly unnerving sight; one could only wonder who had wronged the infamous organization this time, and pray the lot wouldn't fall on them.

Someone sure was out of their luck today.

You tried to ignore the not so subtle gazes the citizens threw you as you walked past them, though understanding their curiosity.

It was the first public appearance of the rumoured 12th Harbinger, after all.

Feeling a bit self-conscious, you tried to distract yourself by focusing on the scenery. It had been over a month since you'd last set foot outside the palace grounds, but Snezhnaya's beauty never faltered...

At some point, you got a bit lost in thought.

Dottore's lazy comment, however, caught your attention.

"Now then, I've heard some interesting things about that Pyro Vision of yours…"

Pantalone smiled, as if oblivious.

You sighed. "Well, that's unsurprising. From Scaramouche, I reckon."

"Tsk, you have so little imagination." The Doctor clicked his tongue. "Then, allow me to ask you... How long do you think the oldest one of my segments has been around? Or, how efficiently all these clones are capable of gathering information? Or, how much more I can figure out just by knowing a few things about you?"

"Such roundabout hints, Doctor."

"What he's trying to say, of course," Pantalone chimed in, "is that the Second pf the Harbingers has many... unconventional ways of finding out what his curiosity desires."

You sighed, "and he shares everything with you, because why not?"

Not very surprising.

It was granted that your secrets were never going to remain hidden from them forever, and frankly speaking, you didn't care. Pierro was already aware of every scandalous detail there was to your past anyway, so was there a reason for you to be so reticent about it?

Well, certainly not anymore...

but it was still a tad too early to completely let your guard down either!

A weird silence filled the air for a while, probably making the lower ranks behind you a bit uncomfortable.

But since Pantalone and Dottore didn't pursue on the topic, you thought, 'why should I either?'

Yet they obviously expected you to.

"Then," you sighed, giving in, "I assume you want to ask me about something? My Visions, no doubt."

Pantalone patted your head, "Only if our little Harbinger wouldn't deem it prying."

"I do, but go ahead."

Knowing them to be exceedingly shrewd characters, manipulating others so effortlessly, you realized these two could have easily lead you into a trap here. But somehow, this subtle controlling was always done gently enough not to hurt you.

And they never would, surely.

One way or another, though, they always found out what they wanted...

Pantalone gestured the Fatui agents to put some distance between them and the three of you - was it courtesy, or maybe... protectiveness? Either way, it would prevent bothersome rumours about your past from spreading any further, so you gave him an appreciative smile.

Dottore was walking leisurely with his hands behind his back, giving you sidelong glances.

"Then, tell me, Y/N - why do you think Celestia grants Visions so heedlessly? Why is it that even some of the strongest individuals never receive one?"

The vapor from your breath formed clouds in the cold air as you took a few deep breaths before answering.

"Well, I can only speak for myself. I've always been ambitionless and ran away from all my problems rather than facing them. So, thinking back, I never should've received a Vision in the first place, fake or not."

You sighed, "Rosalyne, on the other hand... I think she had every right to get a blessing from those crafty deities. She was assertive, gifted - a bit of a diva at times - but somewhere beneath lied a gentle soul."

And here you were again, talking about her; she haunted you when she was alive, and haunted you as dead.

Pantalone raised an eyebrow. "My, I've never heard anyone say such things about the Fair Lady?"

Dottore, too, seemed reluctant to accept these praises you directed at your sister, as he'd only seen her as a shallow, crude woman.

"Don't get me wrong, though," you commented, "she was no saint..."

"But?"

You shrugged, "...nor was I."

The two Harbingers had quietly moved closer to you, now walking on your both sides. You only noticed this when their arms slightly brushed against yours.

"After my father created this... thing and gave it to me, and how I greedily accepted it, I always wondered if we had angered the gods so thoroughly that they didn't grant my sister a Vision out of pure spite."

Pantalone brushed a loose strand of hair from your face.

"Perhaps... you shouldn't be so merciless toward yourself."

"I'm not. Rosalyne and I were very similar, after all."

Dottore raised an eyebrow. "How so?"

"We both wanted what we felt we deserved - power, attention... acceptance. I don't know whose yearning was greater, but neither one of us settled for any less. So, I tied a manmade Vision on my hips, and Rosalyne left to study the art of liquid fire in the Akademiya; the divine refused to acknowledge us, so we searched for our due elsewhere."

Pantalone stroked his chin, seemingly amused. "Well, what a pair of blasphemous sisters?"

"However," the Doctor chuckled, "what you did surely made those self-important gods grit their teeth in frustration. I find such heresy quite commendable. Bravo, truly~"

"And then you went and became a Fatui Harbinger," Pantalone sighed. "Poor Celestia, they couldn't shackle you..."

You didn't know whether to laugh or cry at their comments.

"Though, I am curious about one thing," Pantalone continued. "You said Celestia 'rejected' you, yet here you are, with a bona fide Cryo Vision? Isn't that a sign that the gods did, in fact, accept you?"

It was something you'd been wondering ever since that day as well...

And the lamentable conclusion was this:

"Perhaps Celestia just took pity on me. Or, perhaps the Vision was intended as a warning."

"A warning?" Pantalone smiled eerily. "For what reason exactly, my dear?"

To keep your mouth shut?

To not cross such lines ever again?

And yet... "That's a story for a later time," you told them as well, smiling.

Dottore and Pantalone were adept at concealing how they really thought and felt about things, so you couldn't quite decipher their reactions to your cryptic words.

Still, a fleeting sentiment had flashed across their faces - resentment, perhaps. Not toward you, though.

Suddenly, they both stopped walking.

You took a few steps more before noticing and stopping as well, glancing at them over your shoulder.

"Well, would you look that? Time flies so pleasantly with Y/N around." Pantalone checked his pocket watch. "It seems we're here a bit early."

...and where was 'here', exactly?

It looked like a small, secluded village, somewhat. There were no proper houses, just some dilapidated cottages and cabins, and only a few of them. The people outside, wearing clothes way too ragged and light for this type of weather, had quickly fled inside once seeing the Fatui had arrived.

You knew there was a lot of poverty in rural Snezhnaya, but this was... well, it reminded you of the times when you'd struggled to get by as well - memories you'd rather never have had brought up again.

Dottore mumbled something about "these ones" being "too malnourished for test subjects" as he walked past you.

Pantalone had also went ahead with his subordinates, discussing some questionable economics that apparently concerned this place.

But you lingered behind them for a moment, lost in thought.

The people here have surely lost enough, so why choose to bring themselves even more misfortune by getting involved with the Fatui? I understand the way humans think less and less with every decade that passes...

Just now noticing that you hadn't followed them, the two Harbingers strode back to your side.

You quickly hid any remnant of hesitance from your face, giving them a smile.

"Time to prove myself, no?"

Dottore chuckled, "You don't seem too anxious about your first field mission, my little Harbinger, even though you don't know what's waiting up ahead..."

"Well," you sighed. "For the Tsaritsa, and all that... you know? And I reckon I've faced worse anyway."

"I'll ask you to elaborate on that some other time~ On a similar note," Pantalone mused, playing with your hair softly, "we all saw something in you that day, at the funeral, and it seems... you really won't disappoint us?"

You shrugged, "We should hope so."

And with their arms loosely linked around yours, the two Harbingers started leading you toward a particular cabin...

(to be continued)

#genshin impact x reader #platonic genshin x reader #genshin x reader #dottore #fatui harbingers x signora's sister #pantalone #pantalone x reader #dottore x reader #signora's sister #platonic pantalone #platonic dottore #platonic fatui harbingers x reader #platonic genshin #intimately platonic #platonic dottore x reader #platonic pantalone x reader #genshin impact #genshin #cringing at this fic btw #why does it seem worse every time I read it

[deadlyashesart]

Alastor's dissapearance (Part 4)

Whoa, writer's block is finally gone?! No way!! Anyway, I'm sorry it's such a short chapter after such a long wait. This isn't the last chapter! I have a few more ideas I'd like to write that follow this timeline. It may be a little OOC, but I find it a little difficult to write vulnerable Alastor... Hope you enjoy anyhow, and stick around for more!! Thank you all for the support! <3

Part 3

-----

She didn’t dare cry, because how could she? She wouldn’t let her emotions over a guy she hadn’t seen in seven years affect her ability to work or protect her subjects. She wouldn’t allow herself to feel, at the very least until she figured out a way to minimize the impact of the exorcism that was coming in only a few months. She was a very busy woman, after all.

A week passed since, but It didn’t take long for it to reach Rosie’s ears that he had stepped foot back into Cannibal Town.

Alastor walked casually, a hand rested behind his back while the other held his cane. He could feel the stares of judgment from the cannibals burning into his skull. Usually, he wouldn’t give less of a damn, but the guilt that had been rotting him from the inside out was growing with each cold glance.

Eventually, he reached Rosie’s Emporium. It was fairly early in the morning, and the building was still closed. He knocked thrice, hoping a certain white-haired cannibal overlord would open the door.

His silent prayers to himself had been answered and his smile became a little more genuine as Rosie came to the door. She didn’t look thrilled to see him. She held back an annoyed groan and instead opted for a tired sigh. “What are you doing here, Alastor?”

“I believe I owe you an apology,” he answered, his voice annoyed her.

Rosie had to admit that Alastor looked different. More vulnerable, in a weird way, despite still having his usual smile plastered on his face. “Please leave. I don’t have time for this. Besides, don’t you have that little hotel to tend to?” Rosie attempted to close the door, but Alastor wedged his cane between the gap and made it impossible to.

“I fear our long-awaited reunion didn’t go to either of our expectations. I do not want our friendship to falter over a silly miscommunication, so please allow us to try again.”

“You disappeared for seven years and couldn’t even send me a letter regarding your return. That isn’t just a silly miscommunication, you’re just being an inconsiderate asshole.” Rosie’s tone wasn’t angry or sad anymore. Instead, it was stern, numb of any other emotion. This was her way of protecting herself.

Alastor’s ears flattened against his head. He didn’t want to act desperate. He had an image to maintain after all, and he was still standing in public. But he needed Rosie to hear him out or he’d never forgive himself. “I brought you something… As a show of good nature. I’m not here to start a fight or hurt you like I did before.”

Appearing in his hand from a cloud of dark smoke was a small bouquet, roses to be exact. He wasn’t a very creative gift-giver.

Rosie stared at him for a moment, taking the bouquet. She gave a deep sigh and opened the door fully. “Very well.”

“Thank you.” Alastor quickly took the moment to enter the emporium before Rosie changed her mind.

-----

They entered the staff room and sat down on the couch beside each other. Alastor’s eye twitched ever so slightly as he saw Rosie’s new radio sitting on the coffee table. To him, it was an abomination. How dare someone add a TV screen to a radio? But he couldn’t bring it up now, or he’d lose his chance to mend things with Rosie.

“Say what you have to say now, Alastor,” Rosie began, picking up a cup of coffee she had left so she could answer the door.

Alastor paused. He had a lot he wanted to say. He wanted to give her an explanation on why he left, but even the thought made the invisible chains on his neck squeeze tighter.

“I’m… Sorry, Rosie. I truly am,” he finally managed to say. “I allowed my pride” —that really stung to say out loud— “get to my head and distract me from what actually mattered.”

Rosie listened intently, taking a sip of her coffee. She almost choked on it when Alastor suddenly took one of her hands in both of his.

“You are one of the most important people in my hellish existance. One of my only true friends. Back at the meeting, I did feel remorse. Trust me, I did. But I was unaware how badly my disappearance had affected you, and I responded incorrectly.”

He let go of her hands and sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. He hated this feeling of vulnerability, he wasn’t used to it.

“I’m sorry I didn’t send you a letter… It’s inexcusable, but it truly did slip my mind. I promise you, from now on, I will keep in touch. Maybe we can go back to having our bi-weekly walks? What do you say?”

Rosie blinked, feeling conflicted. This was a side of him she’d never seen before. She was still upset, of course, an apology won’t fix the years of hurt he caused, but it was a start.

A small smile appeared on her face and she opened her arms, inviting him for a hug. He looked at her, his permanent smile finally reaching his eyes with genuine joy. He hugged her, and she hugged tighter.

“So… Is this forgiveness, my dear?”

“It’s definitely a start…”

“Thank you.”

They broke the hug, and Alastor’s eyes drifted towards the radio on the table. “Now, if I may ask, why did you purchase such an abomination?”

“Alastor.”

"Apologies."

#radiorose #platonic radiorose #alastor and rosie #rosie and alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin rosie #angst #hurt/comfort

[succubusdaydream]

By The Grace of The Moon || Astarion x Werewolf!Selunite!Reader PT2

Masterlist || Words: 2428

Part 1

AN: Hiii tysm for all the support on pt1-like I said last time, some characters may seem ooc but so far im liking how this is turning out. Reader is officially referred to as Tav at the end of this chapter! If you want to be added to a tag list, please let me know. Also I have a Gale fic in the works so be on the lookout for that <3

---

The night seemed to last forever and when Gale woke up to take over patrol, sleep took just as long to grace you. It was a simple pet name. Darling. But coming from his mouth, it sounded like a symphony. You weren’t sure if he felt the same pull that you did. After all, it was only a rumor that non-Lycans could feel it. You, however, it pulled at you like a leash. And his words ran through your dreams as you tried your hardest to get even a bit of sleep.

                In the morning you’re certain that your lack of sleep was noticeable, though your group members never said anything. The scent you had awoken too wasn’t that of rosemary or brandy. ‘At least, not the MAIN scent.’ It smelt of herbs. Like a homemade soup.

                Exiting your tent, you saw Gale and Shadowheart around a now dying campfire. Over it was a simmering pot, no doubt where the smell was coming from. Stretching your back and arms, you sighed as a satisfying pop sounded from them. The noise got the attention of your associates.

                “Ahh, good morning. I hope you slept well?” Gale’s voice was the first to grace your ears as you rubbed the sleep from your eyes and walked forward. You gave a nod and took the soup he had poured and extended to you. “It may not taste the best, but I worked with what we had available.”

                “Thank you, Gale. It smells great.” You sat in silence as you ate before realizing someone was missing. ‘How did I miss the most important person?’ “Where’s Astarion? Did he eat?” You looked toward his tent and caught his scent, knowing he was in there.

                Shadowheart was the one to respond. “He’s been in his tent all morning, might still be catching up beauty sleep.” She had a small smile on her face as she held out her bowl to Gale, silently asking for another helping before she turned to you. “So, what are the plans for today?”

                “Well, Zevlor asked us to speak to the Druid’s leader, Kahga. Although I don’t think she’s their real leader. He mentioned a ‘Halsin’. We’ll see what she has to say. I also want to see if I can find that Githyanki that helped me yesterday, Lae’zel.” Shadowheart was nodding to your words until you mentioned Lae’zel. At this, her face turned into that of a sneer.

                “Githyanki are dangerous company. We’ll do just fine without her.” She quickly finished her bowl and stood up, retreating to her tent to get ready for the long day ahead. You sighed and turned back to Gale, who was silently eating the last of his bowl as he shrugged at you. With a huff, you stood up and re-thanked Gale for breakfast before walking to your tent to get ready as well.

---

The days after that seemed to drag on and on. Zevlor had mentioned a goblin camp nearby and with all the attacks, the druids are sealing the grove and kicking them out. So, after talking with Kahga and agreeing with another druid to find Halsin, their true leader, your group started a long and tiring trek to killing some goblins.

 You spent nearly 2 days taking out the goblins. Their leaders were the most difficult. A priestess named Gutt. A drow named Minthara. And a hobgoblin named Dror Ragzlin. Much to your sadness, they had taken hold in a Selunite temple, destroying her statues and altars. And much to Shadowhearts distaste, you had tried you best to fix one of them, kneeling and saying a prayer. You hadn’t had a shift in a few days, and each night, the moon’s brightness grew and grew. Her blessing helped you control it, but without shifting for long, you got antsy and felt the urge in your bones.

With goblin guts and blood surrounding you, your senses started to become overwhelmed. But there was one last thing you had to do before returning to the grove. Halsin. The druid’s true leader that had been captured. He was somewhere in the temple, and you had promised to find him. So, shaking everything off, your group had split up, searching different rooms before you came across one with only a few guards and worgs guarding a bear. Before you could slip out of the room, they had inevitably spotted you.

With your group split up, you were alone and outnumbered. You panicked as they rushed you and held them back as best as you could before there was a loud crash from the back of the room. The bear had broken the cell doors down and rushed to your aid, swiping some of the goblins away before shifting into a human. He must be Halsin.

“I apologize for the viscera. One should cherish all of nature’s bounty... but goblin guts are quite far down the list. Are you alright?” His voice was deep, and he towered over your frame as he helped you to your feet. You took his assistance with a huff, holding a fresh cut one of the goblins has given you on your side.

“Yes, thank you. You must be Halsin? Your grove is in danger.” Your breath was heavy, and sight blurred. You were reaching your limit for the day and wanted nothing more than to return to camp and sleep. Perhaps even under the moon.

“Yes, and I’m aware. But I cannot leave while the goblins threaten my home. I must stay here and-“ You quickly cut him off with a shake of your head.

“They’re all dead. Zevlor asked us to help take care of them so his group could safely start the trek to Baldur’s Gate.” You pointed your thumb in the direction of the door you entered through. Did the blood on my armor and cuts not give that away?

His eyes widened as he looked you over before glancing at the door. “They are? All of them? Impressive.” He paused as he processed your words fully. “Us? Are there more with you?” And as if on cue, an arrow flew between the two of you as your group entered the room.

The arrow came from Astarion’s bow, his brows furrowed as he notched another arrow. “Back away slowly, or the next one hits.” His voice held a growl and your stomach turned at his jump to defend you from a stranger. How did he know? Could he feel the pull?

Snapping out of your thoughts, you quickly walked up to your group with your hands up. “No, no! This is Halsin, he’s the Grove’s leader.” You motioned him over and continued your conversation. He had informed you of ‘true souls’ that were also infected with the mindflayer tadpoles. They were all lead to MoonRise Towers by followers of The Absolute.

With the promise of telling you more later, he swiftly left to save his grove. You turn to your group, specifically Astarion. “How did you know where to find me?” Please tell me you felt the pull. My goddess, please let him feel our connection.

He scoffs and waves you off. “This was the direction you headed. I could hear voices when I approached the door, so I called everyone over.” Dammit! “Now, let’s go. It smells awful in here and I’m sure we’re all exhausted.” He stows his bow on his back and walks out.

---

                When you had eventually made your wat back to the grove, Zevlor was there to greet you at the gate. “A scout has just reported. The golbins have all been taken out. I’ve taken a collection of coin for your assistance.” He held out a small pouch and a rough backpack. “As well as some camp supplies for your group. Perhaps we’ll join you at your camp tonight for celebration?”

                You grimaced. You just wanted to sleep. Having so many people in camp would hurt your ears with how tired you were. Not only that, but the moon was also supposed to be in its full beauty tonight. You wanted to take a nice run before falling asleep under the glowing moon. “I’m sorry, Zevlor. My group and I are exhausted after that camp, perhaps tomorrow night? We’ll gather some wine and make a bigger celebration out of it, yea?”

                The smile on his face dropped but he nodded. “Tomorrow then.” With that, he walked off to help his people pack their belongings into carts. Your group walked through the grove, smiling as the refugees thanked you and praised as you made your way back to camp. When you arrived, everyone retreated into their respective tents to change out of their armor and start to wind down.

---

That night, after everyone had their fill of dinner and retreated to their beds, you left yours. Looking up at the beautiful glowing moon, you sighed at the feeling of its light on your skin. Finally. What a beautiful night to run. Bless me, Selune, I shall hunt in your name.

                The woods were dark, and animals made noises all around. You had walked far from camp before finding a clearing and stretching your arms out. Feeling your bones crack and bend, you let out a groan as you fell to your hands and knees, your body reconfiguring itself. And soon enough, your body fully shifted. Your wolf was large and nearly pure white. In black, the symbol of Selune blessed your face.

                You stretched your large paws out and shook your fur. It felt great to finally be back on all fours. Lifting your snout in the air, you took a long sniff. Sure, you had eaten dinner, but if you could manage to find a good deer or boar, you could drag it back to camp the next day and simply act as if you were hunting. The wind soon carried you the scent of animals. Boar. And with the scent locked on too, you turned and took off.

                The moonlight sprinkled through the tree leaves and the wind through your fur felt like your goddess herself ran her fingers down your back. Your paws thud against the grass as you close in on the boars. It didn’t take long for you to slow, crouching as you heard the animals snorting. Peering through the bushes, you saw them. Three large boars in a group. If you were fast enough, you could take all of them down, two at most.

                Inching forward, you prepared to pounce. But as you readied your muzzle, a twig snap to your left made their head turn up before running off. Shit! You quickly pounced after them, snarling as you pushed your legs faster to catch up with your dinner. It didn’t take you long to reach them and you quickly realized one of them was slower then the other. Gotcha!

                With one final pounce, you sunk your claws and teeth into the hind legs on the slow pig, pinning it to the ground as it squealed in pain. You silenced it with a strong bite to it’s throat, ripping your head back to howl for your successful hunt. You panted as you continued your meal, the fur on your paws and muzzle coated in blood.

                Although, a breeze of wind stopped your devour. A familiar scent carried through your nose. Rosemary. Brandy. And bergamot. Astarion? Is he out here?

                Your question was immediately answered as a silky voice rang through the trees. “So. You’re the one who scared off my dinner? No problem, I’ve taken down bears twice your size.” You slowly turned your head. And there you saw him for what he was. Red eyes. Fangs. A vampire. Slave to sanguine hunger. And your natural enemy. “Ooh, what pretty markings. Too bad.”

                No. No please. My goddess, why? Have I done something to anger you? My mate is a natural enemy. He stepped closer to you, pulling his knives out and licking his fangs. “You smell delicious. I’m sure you’ll taste just as sweet.” Despite your heart breaking, it still fluttered at his words. I’m covered in pigs blood and he still thinks I smell sweet?

                Caught up in your thoughts, you hadn’t realized he lunged forward, swinging his knives. They had barely missed you as you jumped out of the way, growling in defense as you raised your hackles and bared your teeth. “There’s a good dog, give me a good fight.” He lunged again but you turned your body into him, slamming your back paws into his chest, trying your hardest not to hurt him.

                You lowered your ears and whimpered, trying to show you meant no harm. He shook off the fall and ran back at you. As he swung again, you raised your paw in an attempt to push him away but was met with a harsh sting. He had taken the movement to lodge his other knife into your stomach before pulling it out and jumping back. You let out a howl of pain before leaping for him, grabbing his arm in your jaw, and pinning him to the ground. You brought your mouth close to his face. Your drool dripped down his cheeks and you let out a roar before jumping over him and sprinting away.

---

You had made it back to the clearing you shifted in. In exhaustion, you collapse into the grass and felt your bones shift back. Soon, you lay naked under the moon, your stomach bleeding, and your hands clutched to the wound. Tears left your eyes as you turned on your back, staring into the moon.

“Selune. Have I angered you? I have worshipped you my whole life. I rid your temple of goblins that defiled it. So why? Why have you blessed me with a mate deemed my natural enemy? Can I love him? Will he love me? He’s a vampire. If he finds out what I am, he’ll look at me with nothing but disgust.” If it didn’t hurt your stomach, you’d allow yourself to sob.

Time passed and you eyes started to drift as the tears stopped. But as your world went black and mind went foggy, a beautiful melody reached your ears. The melody your mate sung each time he spoke.

“Tav? Tav!”

---

Masterlist || Part 1

TAGLIST: @bdudette ||

#badlurs gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 x reader #baldurs gate 3 x reader #astarion ancunin #astarion #astarion x reader #astarion ancunin x reader #astarion x tav #bg3 x tav #tav reader

[vellichxrr6782]

— a recipe for (partial) disaster.

character[s] — alhaitham. theme & genre — alhaitham bakes a cake for his significant other's birthday. he misses an ingredient. cw/tw — ooc alhaitham maybe? word count — 600+ words. a/n — a birthday fic for @lxpical <3 so sorry if this is short- i was pretty caught up in work these last few days, but i couldn't get by without writing something for you!

it goes without saying that the akademiya's scribe, alhaitham, was a very sharp and intuitive man.

he was knowledgeable in almost all subjects, despite only being from the haravatat house of the akademiya. students would've liked to go to him for his knowledge, if it wasn't for his closed-off and aloof behaviour.

regardless, alhaitham found himself worried and doubting his knowledge.

he stood in the kitchen, his hands crossed as he flipped through a recipe book.

now, alhaitham was well-versed in cooking. living alone and being independent does that to a person. what was bothering him right now, though, was baking.

it was your birthday today, and alhaitham decided to bake a cake. he actually didn't think of it initially, until kaveh suggested he baked a cake, because "home-made things are far more special than store-bought things".

he doesn't usually listen to empaths like him, but alhaitham figured it would be better than any old cake bought from a store.

so he ventured into the kitchen, like a confused puppy with no prior knowledge of baking. he would rather die than ask anyone for help, so as the independent and confident man he is, alhaitham decided to figure it out as he went along.

he flipped through a recipe book for cakes, and landed on the one for chocolate cake. "this doesn't seem too hard..." he mumbled to himself, "i can do this."

he preheated the oven and cracked his knuckles, reading through the long, long list of dry ingredients.

"sugar," he told himself, keeping track of the quantity. "flour and cocoa powder."

there was a mess being made on the kitchen counter. alhaitham was usually very neat and precise with his cooking, but perhaps it was his lack of expertise in baking, or it was his nervousness that this wouldn't turn out well. flour was dusted on his clothes, cocoa on the floor.

"erm, and... baking powder? what's that...?"

he leaned back on the counter, trying to scan the shelves. that would've all been amazing if he didn't just accidentally knock over two eggs. they fell to the ground, breaking apart.

alhaitham was barely two minutes in and he felt a headache creeping up. that book he was reading this morning was calling out his name. no, stay focused.

baking soda, baking soda, where was he going to find that? he couldn't go out now, not when he had started baking already. maybe he should call kaveh and-

the noise of the doorbell snapped alhaitham out of his train of thought. his eyes widened, did kaveh hear his prayers?

no. wait, was that you? oh no. oh no.

alhaitham stood frozen in the kitchen like a deer caught in headlights. he came to his senses and rushed to the door. you smiled at him, "hi, haitham. i got some groceries, do you wanna cook dinner together?"

godsent. alhaitham took the bags from you, setting them on the coffee table. he started looking through them. "you didn't happen to get any baking powder, did you?"

you raised a brow, "what, why? are we baking something?"

he pressed his lips in a firm line, "i... i might've started baking something..."

he lead you to the kitchen, and you didn't know whether to laugh or stay silent at the sight in front of you.

you decided to smile instead, "haitham, did you bake a cake?"

"tried." he corrected you, "i made the error of not buying baking powder. didn't know it was needed."

he leaned against the counter, smiling awkwardly. "um. happy birthday...?"

"this is an amazing birthday present, thanks alhaitham." you grinned, hugging him tightly.

"oh, come on, now you're just making fun of me." he frowned, hugging you back. "how's this a good present?"

"think about it this way, we could bake together? i'd say that's a better birthday present than what you planned."

"okay, sounds great." he stated, "but what about the baking powder?"

"oh, i'm sure it's not that necessary. what could some powder do, anyway?"

rule of baking: never skip an ingredient. you'll realise soon enough. for now, happy birthday.

#[🔖 vellichxrr writes ] #💌 lilian ! #alhaitham x reader #al haitham #alhaitham #alhaitham fics #alhaitham x you #alhaitham x y/n #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #genshin #genshin alhaitham

[1-800-zombify]

Do you think I’m crazy?

Ao’nung x Metkayina!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Ao’nung makes fun of Y/N, a little plot but it’s not important, OOC!Ao’nung, very cliche and cringe near the end

Summary: Ao’nung and Y/N go fishing together really early in the morning, and Ao’nung ends up telling her how he feels.

*this is my first time writing on tumblr I’m so sorry

Y/N, WHERE ARE YOU?” Ao’nung scowled. The girl dazedly looked back at him, blinking away her daydreams right before him. He pointed his spear at her, “What are you thinking about? What is so much more important?”

“I don’t know.” Y/N shrugged. She held the basket closer to her hip and peered into the opening. The fish they caught together hopelessly flopped against the weaved material, mouths gaping for water. She looked back up at Ao’nung, blankly staring at her in disbelief.

“Be serious.” Ao’nung prodded, “Why are you so distant lately? What’s going on with you?”

“I’ve been thinking…”

“Is that new for you?”

Y/N dropped the basket into the sand. She picked up her spear, smacking Ao’nung’s leg with the end, “Do you want to hear it or not?”

He raised his hands in defense, “I’ll listen, if we get all the fish we need.”

She stabbed her spear into the water, cutting into the sleek viridian body of an eel squid. Y/N pulled it out of the water, pressing a gentle hand on its twitching head. She closed her eyes, muttering a brief prayer as the eel squid’s movement halted. Y/N tossed it into the basket.

“So…?” Ao’nung sat down, hands digging into the sand. He stared off into the ocean, waves crashing against each other. It was still fairly dark out, but there were occasionally distant animal calls. Part of their chores was to gather meat. Ao’nung’s father, the Olo’eyktan, didn’t care where it came from or what it was — he just wanted them to practice, so they had swam to a sandy rock formation off the coast.

Y/N sat down besides him, placing her spear as a divider between the Na’vi. She pressed her knees to her chest, “I’ve been getting these dreams.”

Ao’nung chuckled, “Dreams are dreams.” He gathered a fist full of sand and splatted it against Y/N’s back, “They mean nothing.”

She pushed him into the water, “They are from the All-Mother, and they mean something. She is calling to me, Ao’nung. Can you comprehend that?”

He picked himself up and crossed his arms skeptically. “Are you Tsahìk now?” Ao’nung pressed, “You are not wise. You cannot determine the will of Eywa. Who are you to say she is reaching out to you?”

Y/N stayed silent, as he stabbed his spear into the water. He tossed another eel squid into their basket.

“What happens in your dreams?”

Y/N scoffed, “I thought you didn’t want to listen.”

He shrugged, “I never said that. I said you’re just not intelligent enough to understand if Eywa is trying to commune with you. Now, what do you see in your dreams?”

She looked up at the stars, silently twinkling in the midnight blanket above. She sighed, “I see her, Ao’nung. I see her, and she’s trying to speak —,”

He laughed, “N/N, you going crazy? Do you make jokes now? Maybe we should go fishing more.”

Y/N hit the back of his head, “I am serious, Ao’nung. When I visit the Cove of Ancestors, I get these visions —,”

“The Cove?” Ao’nung paused, sitting down besides her, “You never mentioned this before.”

“You’ve been too busy making fun of me than listening,” she replied bluntly.

“Well, there’s a difference between experiencing a calling from Eywa in sleep and in consciousness.”

“So you think it’s a calling now, huh?“

He rolled his eyes, “You should talk to my mother. She is Tsahìk, she will know how to help you.”

“I don’t know, Ao’nung…”

“My mother understands these types of things better than anyone. You can trust her, Y/N,” Ao’nung looked at her side profile, confusion slowly writing itself on his face. “Why do you hesitate?”

“Do you think I’m crazy?” Y/N blurted, hugging her knees to her chest.

He flinched slightly at the words, his attention drawing back to the rolling waves before them. He licked his lips, shrugging as he chose his words carefully. Ao’nung finally said, “I don’t think you’re crazy.”

He hesitantly placed a hand on her shoulder, a meek attempt of comfort. Y/N didn’t react, merely tracing her fingers along the cracks of the rock. “Then why do you always look at me differently?”

Ao’nung blinked, averting his eyes towards Y/N again. How did Ao’nung look at her? How did his gaze change when looking at another Na’vi to her? The first question he had was: what is the difference between Y/N and anyone else? Of course, Ao’nung might’ve treated her a little differently — perhaps nicer if matching her pace whenever they walked, saving a spot besides him at gatherings counted. Maybe favoritism in others’ eyes, judging by the tricks he did in the water to amuse Y/N, joining in chorus of her favorite folk songs when he’d prefer listening, and detours around the reef, so she could admire the coral one last time before resurfacing.

Taking in a quick breath, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Ao’nung, don’t say that,” Y/N shook their head. Her words were soft, delicate even, “You act like… you’re scared I’ll do something wrong or stupid — all the time. I don’t know who you think I am sometimes —,”

“Who I think you are?” He interrupted. He repeated the words in his head, and then out loud once more, “Who I think you are? I think you’re someone that believes loving them is a burden. I treat you different, because you’re not a burden. Not to me.” Ao’nung closed his eyes, taking in a sharp breath. He turned to Y/N, daring himself to speak, “You’ve taught me that loving is not a task I need to accomplish. With you, it’s been a skill I’ve spent perfecting for years, because I’ve loved you since we met, and I want to love you correctly.”

And Y/N was silent.

He parroted her again, “Do you think I’m crazy?”

The phrase was different. Before, Y/N meant if Ao’nung thought something was wrong with her, if there was a flaw Eywa had unknowingly bestowed. But hearing Ao’nung repeat it, she realized she had asked him if he loved her enough to accept madness. And he did.

“No,” she whispered. “I don’t think you are.”

#avatar the way of water #aonung x reader #atwow #avatar x reader #avatar #aonung #metkayina #avatar oneshot #fanfic #metkayina!reader #aonung x metkayina!reader #aonung x female reader

[lov-eable]

TELL ME  ֗ ˖ ࣪ ᩠ ༉‧₊˚ ✿ #01

━━ a filmmaker decides to follow and document the lives of the worst and best students at your school for a month, unfortunately, those students are you and chishiya, the most annoying guy on earth.

masterlist ◌*ꕤ

word count ✦ 1726

A/N: lets not question why the best student is allowed to have dyed long hair, idk either!!!! also kyuma cameo, i just needed someone as the filmmaker so hes kinda ooc take that in mind U_U hope u like it!

05/28/18 12:38

Why did the principal reach out to you to meet him at his office? Were you in trouble? Did he finally decide to expel you because of your scores? No, it couldn’t be, everyone knows that type of thing only happens in American movies, so, why were you waiting there and nervously avoiding eye contact? Also, a weird guy -he was wearing a cap indoors and that was enough for you to consider him weird-, who undoubtedly was not a teacher, even less a student was awkwardly standing in the corner of the room. You prayed for a word, just a single word, that could break the tense silence. As if your prayers had been heard for the very first time in your whole life, the awkward guy with the cap crouched down to whisper something in the director’s ear and as he vaguely nodded, the principal eventually spoke. 

“Miss Kano, I have summoned you to propose and discuss an extracurricular activity involving you and one of your classmates” classmate? Who was he talking about? You started getting more curious, letting go of your previous anxieties, maybe this proposal could be fun, right? As long as they didn't force you to study maths for two hours every day after school, it would be pleasant. You heard the strange man clear his throat and you prepared yourself to finally hear him talk, he made you more curious than creeped out. “It seems your, uh, friend may take his time to arrive yet” so your so-called classmate was a guy, your options to guess decreased, “allow me to introduce myself, I’m Kyuma Ginji, filmmaker and the director of this new project”.

Someone knocked on the door softly, so softly it could almost have been ignored if the people in the room weren’t so expectant of the arrival of the fourth member and the principal barely said a word allowing the newcomer to enter the room. Just like that, all your expectations, interest and curiosity died right there without an opportunity to meet the real world. The one classmate who could disturb your day with only his presence set foot into the office and sat in the chair next to you. “Good morning, I’m sorry about the delay, I was taking care of a homework-related matter with Mister Kuzuryu” you tried not to look at him but even his voice annoyed you.

Mr. Kyuma brushed it off and resumed his self-introduction, “now that you both are here, I will explain you my project. Basically, my crew and I want to portray the lives of the senior students with the best and worst grades respectively, and see how you interact with each other for a month” no, simply no, there was no way you would interact with Chishiya for a whole month in front of cameras, not even if a gun was pointed at your head, “if you both agree, we’ll sign a contract and start shooting the first day of June, that way we’ll end at the start of July without disrupting your midterm exams. Please let me know what you think”.

“I think I’ll pass…” “Sir, are we going to get paid?” that rude cat-face with toilet paper-coloured hair dared to cut you off. Who did he think he was? Sometimes, you said to yourself it was nonsense to dislike him with so much energy, and maybe you could start over. You wouldn’t dare to befriend him, but you could finally leave each other alone, but with moments like this, you realized that would never happen. “Yes, of course, all of that information is in more detail in the contract, would you like to see it?” Mr. Kyuma said as he quickly, and really clumsily, directed himself towards his briefcase taking out a portfolio which, you assumed, stored your contracts.

He handed you each a piece of paper which contained all the clauses and conditions, you started reading it but reminded yourself you weren’t interested, if you accepted, you would work closely with Chishiya for a whole freaking month. “Uh, sorry, as I was saying…” “It’s okay, I’ll join the documental” and again, see? This was the reason why you would never work willingly with Chishiya, also, it was odd of Chishiya to accept something like this. No matter how much you disliked him, you couldn’t deny you knew him very well, at the end of the day, you essentially watched him grow. And this wasn’t usual for him. You noticed everyone seeing you expecting an answer, Chishiya smirked at you irritating your insides, “Miss Kano, we only need you to agree and we’ll sign the contracts tomorrow, then start filming as scheduled” oh no, there it was, the pressure. 

It puzzled you why Chishiya agreed to this, the truth is, he had two big reasons; first, he would get paid and the amount was not low, and second, he heard you trying to deny the offer so he figured out that by agreeing, he would have the opportunity to bother you and see that annoyed face of yours that pleased him so much. If we are being honest, it puzzled him as much as you, if not more, why he got so much satisfaction by being around you and pushing your buttons, but the answer was something he deep inside knew he wouldn’t like to acknowledge.

Oh, you were aware there was no way out. Chishiya was already on board and the producer looked at you with puppy-like eyes, anticipating your positive answer. You knew you didn’t owe him anything, but still, he seemed young and hopeful. Even to the untrained eye, it was evident this was his first project. “Uh, why not? But I would like to mention this to my parents first” you talked with hesitation, contemplating the slightest chance your parents would disapprove of their youngest daughter appearing on a documentary showing off her awful grades.

Certainly, your parents weren’t against it, they didn’t even bat an eye, as per usual, they didn’t care about your life while you weren’t out there doing drugs -you weren’t sure about that testament either-. “Could you hand me the salad? Thanks. Yeah, your teacher, or was it your principal? Not so sure, but I got a call, they explained everything. You can participate, honey, it’s not like you’re going to get distracted from your studies or anything” your mom chuckled as if what she had said just recently was funny, but no one else at the table was laughing. Family dinners were always the same, your parents making passive-aggressive comments towards you, maybe praise your sister once or twice and silence. Not awkward, nor comfortable either, just plain silence.

“Mom, I’m not going to join the project” as you said, your parents released a “why?!” into the air in unison. You barely muttered “because I don’t want to” when your dad replied in a demanding tone, “that’s not a valid answer. You never want to do anything. If you do it, you’ll have money and at least one thing to write in your resume” of course the one time you needed your parents to mind their business as they always did was the time they decided to involve themselves into your life. “The man I spoke to earlier mentioned you and Shuntaro Chishiya, if I’m not mistaken, would be filmed. He is Dr. Chishiya’s son, right? He’s the best student, you could use some of his knowledge”.

That was it, you couldn’t stand Chishiya, you couldn’t stand your family, you were at your limit. You stuffed your mouth with the remaining food on your plate and stood up without saying a word, you heard your parents calling your name, but it did not matter to you at the moment. Taking the book you borrowed from the school library and laying in your bed, you found your desired peace, or so you believed until you heard a door knock. You didn’t answer in the case that would make whoever knocked on your door go away. 

It didn’t, instead, a rather familiar face appeared as they opened your door. “Forgot to lock it” Mira grinned at you, “what do you want?” you said while covering your face with the book you were reading at the moment -The Silent Cry by Kenzaburo Oe-. “Can I come in?” you did not use your energy to say no because your sister would ignore you and enter your room whether you like it or not.

She sat next to you in your bed, “I think you shouldn’t deny the film offer”, “are you joining them in this nonsense? Traitor…” you moved yourself to face the wall because you were actually hurt she was taking your parents’ side instead of yours. “It’s a really good opportunity, I don’t think you should miss it, also, why you don’t want to do it? Even though my parents think you are lazy, I know you’re down to try everything at least once”.

“Why are you being so nosy? It’s not like it matters to you or something” you faced her again and stood right up to be at her height. “You are right, it does not matter to me, but clearly does to you, that’s why it’s bothering you so much and you don’t want to say the reason why. Whatever, my opinion shouldn’t be important, but I do think you should do it. You’ll get paid, maybe you could show off some of your poetry, you know, and mom and dad would love to see you” Mira stood up as she talked and was about to disappear through the door that connected your room to the hall but she stopped when you called her name. 

There was a simple phrase you knew you had to say, different from what Mira would have liked to hear, but you didn’t say any of those. “You’re too good with words, you’re like a congressman” your sister laughed leaning against the door, “oh, god, I wish I was a congressman, do you know how much they get paid a year?” a sweet moment of giggles and then, a comfortable silence between you and her settled in the room, “anyways, I have to study, think about what I told you. Good luck with your book”

tag list: @surshica @enslique @httpsimmy @elernity @eshtravagent @fishisahappydog @kreishin @vernon-dursley @mhyunri

#chishiya x reader #chishiya shuntaro x reader #aib x reader #alice in boderland x reader #chishiya x fem!reader #aib chishiya #୨୧ . . . tell me #l❤︎veable

[http-paprika]

Bite the Hand / Phillip Graves

⋆★⋆ part six - landslide ⋆★⋆ masterlist ⋆★⋆ previous ⋆★⋆ next ⋆★⋆

summary frost finally had graves, but that didn't stop the grief from finding her. like an itch, she couldn't get rid of, but neither is he.

werewolf!au / pairing phillip graves x female!reader / callsign frost / wc 1308 / warning swearing, non-descript references to sex, alcohol, panic attack(?), ooc phillip graves

notes yes, this chapter is inspired and named after the fleetwood mac song. no, I'm not going to apologize. grief for you, sadness for you, a shitty life for frost.

His arm was wrapped around her waist in a protective hold; under her, Frost could feel the steady beating of his heart. On the outside, it was a moment of peace. But her mind was like a building storm, a hurricane threatening to break down the storm walls, and when she closed her eyes, it wasn’t the night she’d spent with Graves that she thought of, but a painful recollection from her past. It manifested in the physical, with stinging in her eyes and throat. 

“Frost.” Graves murmured her name, tucking his chin against the crown of her head, inhaling the sweet smell of her shampoo. “I’ve never woken up to something as beautiful.” 

Not meeting his gaze, she shifted with unease, face pressed against his bare chest, feeling the warmth of his skin and hair. Frost searched for some comfort, but it was only a momentary relief. “I should go.” 

“It’s still early, there’s no need to rush.” He responded, trying to understand what had turned her cold. Considering the night they’d spent together, she couldn’t understand why. “Frost?” 

“I need to change into new BDUs,” Frost said as she sat up, trying to find where Graves had discarded her clothes in haste. “And shower.” She ignored the offense in his eyes, but Frost couldn’t risk returning to work covered in his scent, there’d be too much talk for her liking. No amount of reassurance from him, nor how badly she craved him, could wash away her fears.

 Graves says her name, his eyes filled with concern. “Do you regret this? Because if I misread the signs, if I coerced you into bed, I apologize. Just tell me if my own want blinded me, tell me what I can do—“ 

 “You didn’t do anything wrong.” He’d been a perfect gentleman to her the entire time, whispering sweet nothings and chasing her pleasure over his own.  Frost had fought back tears the entire time, feeling that she didn’t deserve such tender care. 

 “Well, I clearly didn’t do something right.” Graves argued, getting out of bed and pulling on his jeans, hastily following Frost out of the bedroom. “Look, if you won’t stay, let me at least drive you back to base.” 

 The muscles in her body were wound tight, aching with every step. But she was stubborn and desperate to get away, scared she’d suffocate in this house tainted with his scent. “No, no. I need to be alone.” 

 She left the house with Graves standing at the door, cursing under his breath as he watched her hurry away. His mind was enraptured thinking about her, the way she felt under him, how beautiful she looked, and the way Frost uttered his name like a prayer in desperation.

⋆★⋆ ════ ⋆★⋆ ════ ⋆★⋆ ════ ⋆★⋆ ════ ⋆★⋆ ════ ⋆★⋆ ════ ⋆★⋆

 Hot water stung at her skin, scrubbing it and trying to free herself of his stench. She felt raw, broken down and apart as Frost let the spray stream down her aching body, over the marks and scars from her past that were mangled with the bruises from Graves’ firm grip. The sounds of her strangled sobs echoed off the tile, she’d never felt more lonely the morning after. It reminded her of being young, of her first time and the vulnerability, the exposure, Frost hated people seeing her like that. What was to stop them from taking advantage of her? How could she trust Graves to keep his promise, that their night together wouldn’t come back to bite her? 

 When the crying finally died, and the shower turned cold, Frost turned it off. She found her perfume, hoping the artificial scent would cover what was left of Graves, praying the citrus was loud enough to ignore the rest. It was folly to think she’d be able to free herself of him. This was Graves’ home, his land, his pack, and she was the intruder, ruining things the way she always did. 

Like a wound-up toy, she moved through the day avoiding curious questions of where she’d been, keeping her head low, and dreading any moment spent close to Graves. He didn’t speak to her, averting his blue-eyed gaze whenever they were in the same room, a cold chill tension supplanting what had been there. One night had ruined for her whatever they had, she couldn’t bear to look at him without a ghostly pain stabbing through her ribs, clutching her heart and wrenching it. 

⋆★⋆ ════ ⋆★⋆ ════ ⋆★⋆ ════ ⋆★⋆ ════ ⋆★⋆ ════ ⋆★⋆ ════ ⋆★⋆

 The music in the bar made her mind swim, it was so loud Frost could feel it pulsing in her head as she found an empty stool. Noise consumed her as she rubbed her forehead, thick Texan accents surrounded her, loud from drinking and laughing. People bumped into her, seemingly uncaring and she kept her head low as Shadow Company soldiers came and went through the night.  

 Even with a sea of people, it didn’t stop her lonesome self. It was as unforgiving as an empty landscape, the wind replaced with country music and sights exchanged for glaring neon lights that blinked down at her. 

 Slowly, the ice began to melt in her whiskey that Frost just stared at, wondering why she’d thought coming to the crowded bar would ease her mind. Escaping from the base that she’d naturally confined herself to, leaving behind the fences and gates she foolishly allowed to make her feel sick, but Frost was as confused as ever. One moment away from breaking down, from sinking into her blues. 

 The song changes, a Fleetwood Mac tune that Graves loved played softly over the chatter, lyrics stinging her ears. Her eyes burned as she listened to the melancholy lyrics, the whiskey in her glass suddenly inviting for the first time that night. It soured in her mouth, coating her throat as she swallowed— but it didn't ease the pain. The warmth only disturbed her as she set the glass down, the ice clinking together along with the song. 

 For a moment, her guard faltered and her eyes drew closed, a low sigh escaped her mouth. Placing bills down on the counter, she told herself to leave, there was nothing for her there. But a stranger with blue eyes and a mesmerizing smile is standing there, black hair falling perfectly in place, an inviting scent of rust, hard-earned sweat, and motor oil telling her more than he knew. 

 “You seemed troubled, let me buy you a drink.” The stranger offered, leaning against the wooden counter. It was always the blue eyes that made Frost a fool, that made her question her logic. 

 “Okay.” 

A moment of relief, one bad decision, one more drink. She flirted with him, laughed at his bad jokes, and talked with him until the bar closed. And when they stood by her worn truck, she invited in his kiss, begging herself to enjoy the rough instant, the strangled breathing and groans. But as his hands flirted their way down to her waist, trembling as they toyed with the hem of her shirt, her eyes snapped open. Reality sunk in. 

 “I’m sorry, I can’t do this.” Frost stepped away, scolding herself for acting eighteen all over again. The man whose name she’d not even bothered to learn stands there confused and appalled as she hurriedly finds her key. 

 It had been Graves’ mouth she’d thought of during that kiss, the callouses of his hands replacing that man’s. As Frost drove back to the base in an irritating silence, she wanted one thing, one man. Phillip Graves.

 And no amount of guilt, grief, or fear would stop that woman from getting what she wanted. Frost would tear down every damn wall she’d ever put up if that’s what it cost.

taglist (open): @iamcautiouslyoptimistic @delusionally-loveless-by-choice @bacon-sandwich-of-dionysus @unicorngirly1

#call of duty #call of duty mw2 #cod mw22 #phillip graves #phillip graves cod #phillip graves werewolf!au #phillip graves x reader #phillip graves x you #bite the hand series updates #bite the hand series #call of duty mw3 #call of duty!werewolf au #shadow company werewolf!au #werewolf!au #x female reader

[saintharted]

This is your daily reminder that FGO’s version of Jannu is trash and does her incredibly dirty, do not trust DW

#Every day I wake up and remember that there are people who shit on Jannu because they clearly did not read Apocrypha #Read not watch because the anime was aBSOLUTE GARBAGE #BUT IT'S A1 SO ARE WE REALLY SURPRISED #;;Out for morning prayers. [OOC]

[plzu]

Cold Brew - (Adrian Chase/Vigilante x f!barista!Reader)

part three ☕️ part five ☕️

i'm nervous about posting this after months of no updates. also, hayyyy peep my canva hearder lmao. i couldn't keep searching for gifs i hadn't used yet so i was like, fuckit. let me dip my toe in canva. also, excuse the exaggerated depictions of what caffeine does to a mf. it's all for funsies. if you relate to the way the barista or Adrian reacts to coffee, then, like, yikes. i'm so sorry.

Summary: Dates and darts and secrets. A new coffee drink. Small prickles of jealousy, and an appearance from Vigilante himself.

Warnings: 18+ !!!!!, no Y/N, hair mention, assault (not graphic, but there nonetheless), graphic depictions of violence, blood, rape mention, alcohol consumption, bad relationship with parents. several mentions of peacemaker (whatever could THAT be about 🤔) possibly OOC. not beta read. i open the google docs the following day and catch all my typos and bad sentences in horror all on my own

and--this is important, to me--brief gender talk (reader now has established she/they pronouns). i hope this doesn't deter anyone, as this is something i added to the story for me, but i would understand if you want your reader-inserts to be a complete blank slate, pronouns included. i apologize if this alienates anyone.

Word Count: 6.78k

The plastic cup sitting on Adrian’s nightstand steadily grows fuller with mementos from spending time with you. 

Movie tickets from some horror movie that had you giggling nervously as you gripped the sleeve of his sweater in fear. (He didn’t think it was that scary. But he still liked the physical reminder that you felt safe with him.) 

A d20 die--black, the inlaid numbers neon green--that you used to roll your first natural 20 in the Dungeons & Dragons one-shot he set up for just the two of you. It was after hours, in the cafe. Your eyes had widened in pleasant surprise, the grin stretching your face into brilliant exuberance as your successful roll snuck your half-elf ranger past some guards to rescue another NPC.

Receipts from fast food places you had grabbed a bite to eat at, each one crumpled and special. He had hastily stuffed them in his pockets each time, even insisting on paying for most meals so you had no reason to keep any of them yourself. You looked at him funny the first few times but acquiesced. 

(His favorite receipt was one you convinced him to let you hold for the night. When you returned it to him, there was a messy scribble of a smiling face, round and cute with big circles for glasses, and soft swoops of curls on the forehead. “Is this supposed to be me?” he had asked. You smiled and nodded, demeanor suddenly quieting. “Yeah. Hope you like it.”)

(He adored it like he never adored anything before.)

This clear plastic cup, with his name written on it and a growing treasure of trinkets, is the first thing he looks at when he wakes up in the morning, putting on his glasses. It’s the last thing he gazes at when he drifts off into sleep, limbs aching and heavy, both from standing on his feet all day as a busboy and from scouting the nights as Vigilante.

Adrian never considered himself the religious sort (and maybe Peacemaker was the closest he’d ever come to worshiping anything), but hell if looking at his name in your handwriting (with a heart dotting the ‘i’) doesn’t invigorate him the way a prayer might.

If you are not making out in Adrian’s car, you’re making out at the cafe, after hours. Sometimes during lunch. You latch onto each other with the sticky brazenness of horned up teenagers. 

You cannot invite Adrian into your home. He understands your parents wouldn’t be too thrilled if you two were to hole up in your room. He doesn’t fully comprehend why, though -- something about how you barely talk to them? Offhand comments about avoiding them, without any explanation as to why. 

He cannot invite you into his apartment. Something about a roommate that doesn’t like guests over.

(Adrian doesn’t have a roommate. He just worries you’ll stumble upon his secret somehow--the ammo. The blades. The helmet with the sick prescription visor).

It was a lie he told as badly as any other: 

“Yeah, my roommate's a huge germaphobe. He doesn’t like it when people come over and contaminate his living space.” You quirked an eyebrow at him. “Not- not that you’re dirty, or anything. I mean, based on the things you do to me in my car, you’re a little dirty-” he chuckled here, eyes closing briefly. You had just rolled your eyes and walked away, at that point.

You have the good grace not to push further at the time (you didn’t even necessarily push to begin with- Adrian is just compelled to explain himself whenever he feels threatened the truth about Vigilante is about to be revealed).

Adrian delusionally thinks that he’s getting good at lying since you do not question his stories.

(Really, though? You’re scared of finding out whatever secrets Adrian may be keeping. Worried it might be something that will shatter this perfect, precious thing you have. The only thing keeping you sane; keeping your head bobbing just above the cold, crushing waters of depression.)

Adrian comes up with a way to show off his killer sharpshooter skills without having to bring you deep into the woods where he does some of his target practice with Peacemaker. He takes you to a bar downtown, one that doesn’t really scream ‘bring your date here!’, but at least has darts and billiards and half-decent bar food. 

He carries two beers over to the high-top where you’re seated towards the back, scrolling intently through your phone. Shoulders hunched. It is only once he places the drinks down, signaling his presence, that the tension in your shoulders loosen, and your face opens up to him in a warm, gooey smile. 

(Your smile isn’t gooey, necessarily; more like, it turns his insides gooey. Weirdly. But not unpleasantly.)

Adrian situates himself on the stool across from you, noticing the grimace you make after taking the first sip of your beer. 

“I thought you said you like beer?”

Your face scrunches up as you settle the glass back onto the sticky surface of the table. “I said I don’t mind it. Still tastes kinda gross, though. Like piss.”

Adrian blinks, startled. “You know what piss tastes like?” 

The question comes out louder than intended, drawing some attention to your table. He can’t help it. He doesn’t want to judge you, but he wouldn’t be too pleased if it turned out he’s been swapping spit with someone that knows what piss tastes like for some weird, fetish reason.

“No, you ass,” you grit out, the glare you send him softened by the clear amusement in your trembling lips. “I’m just saying. Like, the general aroma of beer is very. Piss-like.”

“Oh, okay,” he shrugs, relieved. “Well, this is a bar, you know. They have other drinks.” Adrian lifts his own glass to take a sip. The entire time, he’s careful to keep his arms off the table. The hand not holding his drink rests on his lap. It’ll drive him crazy later if he comes across any sticky spots on the sleeves of his sweater. 

You grin and roll your eyes at him, like he told a joke. “I know they have other drinks here, Adrian. I just…” your gaze falls to the space between you before you continue: “I haven’t really drank much since coming back. I’m worried that anything other than beer might, like, awaken something in me.”

Adrian’s eyes widen behind his glasses. “Ooh, why? Are you a mean drunk?” One of the line cooks at Fennel Fields is a mean drunk. His mom used to be a mean drunk, but then she stopped drinking.

You snort. “No.” But then pause. And then blink. And the amused tone of your voice becomes more uncertain. “I mean, I don’t think I am. I didn’t used to be.”

“Well, in any case,” you shrug, “I don’t wanna find out tonight.” 

Adrian watches as you lift the beer back to your mouth, taking a bigger sip this time. The way the rim of the glass presses to your lips (lips he still can’t believe he gets to kiss!). The sweet swell of your throat as you swallow (which he gets to kiss, too, and enjoys the quiet noises you make when he does so). It all has him gulping himself, eyes still glued to your face.

And, look- okay, he knows he has a bit of a staring problem. But usually, at this point of knowing someone, they would tell him to cut it out, it’s creepy or something equivalent. But you haven’t seemed to mind so far. You even smile at him, sometimes, like you’re sharing a secret. 

It still baffles him, that you smile like that at him. That you willingly spend time with him, even in a place like this with its murky yellow lighting and beer-stench on every surface. He texts Peacemaker about it every now and then (despite the whole being in prison thing), about how he gets to make out with the hottest girl he’s ever seen- except, wait, is that even right?

He realizes you’re asking him a question. “Huh?”

“Can we get french fries?” you repeat, mouth still hovering just above the rim of your glass. Eyes glittering in the crappy bar lighting, voice small like you’re worried he’ll say no. 

As if he could say no. Like, why would he? “Yeah, sure,” he responds. “The wings here are pretty good, too, if you want. Bar food makes beer taste better, at least.” 

When you perk up at his answer, he feels like he’s won something. Which is why he hesitates before speaking again, afraid he might ruin the moment.

“Hey, can I ask you something? And please don’t get mad,” he rushes to add, eyes growing big.

You stare at him for a few silent seconds, eyes narrowed in a slightly suspicious squint. But then you nod, once, after taking another swig of beer.

“At the cafe, sometimes Ashe and the others use ‘they’ when talking about you.”

Adrian can’t tell if you look relieved, or if you’ve gone more rigid. You just sit there waiting for him to ask the question.

“Is that- is that something I should be doing, too?”

You take in a deep breath through your nose, as if to steady yourself, and then kind of deflate. You don’t seem mad, though, which is good. 

“You can call me whatever you want, Adrian. She, or they, or both. As long as it’s just the two of us, or in front of the other baristas. But it’s not something I’m open about with, uh, most people.”

Adrian understands a thing or two about keeping secrets. “Like your parents?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “When I started at the Evergreen Bean, I felt safe enough… telling Ashe and Matty. Y’know, since they’d be able to relate. But also, they’re young enough to, like, not know me and my family, or anyone else our age. So, less chances someone that knows me will find out.”

“I know you,” Adrian points out. “You’re okay with me knowing?”

You hesitate for only a second. “Maybe I’m crazy for this, but I trust you.”

He doesn’t know what he’s done to earn your trust. Doesn’t understand why you’d allow him into this part of your world when you wouldn’t even allow your own parents. But he has enough sense not to broach that topic, and he got the answer to his question, so he leaves it at that, and gets up to go order the food at the bar.

When he returns after placing the order, he points out the dart boards hanging on the opposite wall. “Wanna play?”

You glance between him and where he’s pointing. “Hah! You’re kidding, right? What if I hurt somebody?” Despite all that, you slip off of the stool and follow him towards the dart boards.

Adrian starts picking off the darts from the pockmarked surface, smiling. “You’d have to be pretty bad at aiming to hurt someone.” There weren’t any tables around for patrons to sit at, and people knew to steer clear of the area and not walk through. 

He hands you a dart.

“Okay,” you say, closing your fingers around the black stem of it. “Alright. It’s all in the wrist, right?”

Adrian laughs, and if it comes out mocking it’s only because he’s so used to doing something like this with someone as skilled and badass as Peacemaker, he forgot normal civilians sometimes don’t know how to, like, aim with accuracy. 

He carefully extricates the dart back out of your hand, taking no notice of your now-deadpan stare. “On second thought, let me show you how to throw one first.” His original plan was to have you go first so that he can go next and dazzle you with a bullseye or few.

You fold your arms across your chest and watch as he positions himself. Turns his body towards you so his throwing arm is facing the wall with the dart board. He’d be distracted by how close you are to his chest if his mind wasn’t already in excellent marksman mode. 

He talks you through what he’s doing, and why, muttering in a suddenly-serious, very focused tone. Arm a taut L shape with the dart held delicately between his thumb and forefinger. Careful to swing his arm back at just the elbow. Once. Twice. At the third, he releases the dart at just the right moment, and pierces the center of the small red circle. 

“See?” he says, looking back at you. “Just like that.”

“Lucky shot,” you say, teasing. Feigning disinterest. 

Adrian is already in too deep, overtaken by the cocky self-assuredness that’s typically present as Vigilante. So he doesn’t think to keep it casual as, holding eye contact with you, he quickly tosses two more darts and has the pleasure of watching your eyes widen. When you rip your gaze away to look at where the darts landed, and sees the way you lick your lips, he knows without checking that both hit dead center. 

“Pretty hot, right?” he asks, remembering how you had mentioned how hot you find things like this- marksman, hitting targets, barely having to aim.

“Adrian Chase,” you start, eyes glittering in his direction, “are you showing off for me? Did you bring me here just to impress me?”

He doesn’t know how to tell you that he brought you to a halfway decent bar because he’s addicted to the way you light up for him. That you’re the only person he lets touch him. Likes the fire that licks up his veins when your fingertips graze against the back of his hands sometimes. 

He thought banging chicks with Peacemaker was cool. But nothing beats the feeling of you pressed against him, of your hands in his hair and your mouth on his neck and the way your waist feels trapped between his own hands. Even if he does end up with blue balls at the end of a night with you.

So instead he just says something stupid about wanting to get your panties wet.

Which is, like, close enough to the truth, anyway.

“Dude!” You unfold your arms to shove playfully at his shoulder with one hand; he hardly budges, and so finds the action inoffensive. “You can’t just say things like that in public!” You’re laughing as you say this, so he decides you can’t be that mad.

“Why not? This is a bar. The guys sitting a table over from us have been saying worse things all night.”

You scoff. “Whatever. Hand me a dart, I want to try now!”

Adrian obliges you, but then has a flash of a memory:

Him and Peacemaker bringing a couple of tipsy girls back to Chris’ trailer. One of the girls coyly admitting, “I’ve never shot a gun before.” Them corralling the girls out back into the woods, where they keep targets pinned to trees and other garbage used for target practice littered throughout the forest floor. Peacemaker angling the one that made the comment in front of him, ass flush to his pelvis, steadying her arm out as she aimed the pistol he lent her. Peacemaker looking back and winking at Vigilante.

So he whips a hand out to your waist, trying to copy what Peacemaker did that day, and turns you around. Presses your back to his chest so you’re both facing the same direction. Other hand gently encircling your wrist to raise your arm. 

It’s clumsy and awkward, at first. How quick and sudden the movement happened, the fact that Adrian never touches you this intimately when other people are around. You stiffen, and hold your breath, but then over your shoulder he asks “Is this okay?” and you shiver at the way his breath tickles your neck and melt into his touch. Muscles going lax as you sigh, and nod.

Adrian revels in the warmth of your body against his and thinks about the thumbs-up Chris would give him if were here right now, and draws your hand back towards your shoulder. You let go of the dart when he tells you to, and you both watch as it lands a few spaces below where his landed. 

You beam back at him from over your shoulder. He hopes you do not feel the semi he’s definitely sporting in his jeans right now.

You throw a few more darts, just like that--fixed to each other, movements gliding together. When the food arrives at your table, you’re reluctant to peel away from him. 

“Wanna take the food to go?” you suggest. 

So, maybe you did feel him half hard against your ass.

“Adrian!”

It’s just ten minutes before close when Adrian walks into the cafe a few nights later. He, unfortunately, cannot hang out with you tonight. There’s been too many murmurings of a group of relentless creeps that kept hanging around the club downtown, hiding in alleyways to snatch at staggering drunks. 

One too many nights without interference from the ever infamous Vigilante had made them bold. Adrian plans on gleefully making them regret it.

You called his name from behind the counter, bouncing animatedly. A stark contrast from how he usually finds you at work with tired, sloped shoulders. Your energy is electric, and his grin slowly spreads to match your own, albeit confusedly. 

Ashe shuffles out from the back, slipping into their jacket. Adrian blinks in their direction.

“Oh, hey Ashe. You’re not usually still here at this time.”

They grimace. “New product launch. Had to help prep.”

Ashe glances back at you, and Adrian follows their gaze. Are you… vibrating?

“Good luck with them,” are Ashe’s parting words to Adrian as they dart quickly out the front door.

Adrian frowns at the barista’s back as they leave, even more confused. When he turns his attention back to the counter, you’re gone. He steps closer, calling your name out into the store. Maybe you snuck off to the back for something?

Out of nowhere, you pop back up, quite literally, from behind the counter again. You begin telling him something, talking as if you’ve been mid-conversation this whole time, but Adrian can’t focus on anything you’re saying. He’s trying to calm his suddenly-rapidly beating heart. His hand had instinctively flown to his waist, where he usually keeps his pistol on his suit. 

Did he just get fucking jump-scared in a perfectly normal, well-lit cafe? 

You pause, finally noticing his slightly rattled state. Your eyebrows knit together, trying to piece together what could possibly be wrong. Adrian watches in dread as your face slowly morphs into that of diabolically tickled realization; your eyes are bright and your grin reveals your teeth.

“Did I just scare you?”

“No,” he stresses, much too quickly and very defensively. 

Laughter bursts out of you at his denial. “Dude, I totally just scared you!”

Adrian finally moves his hand from where it was poised at his hips, around a gun that isn’t there, and crosses his arms firmly in front of his chest. “Uh, no,” he repeats. “I just- I was worried because I just remembered I left the stove on. In my apartment.”

You snort, disbelieving. “Uh-huh. What’re you still doing here, then?” He cocks his head at you. “Don’t you have to run back home and turn the stove off?”

“No, well.” He clears his throat. “I just remembered I did. I remembered to turn it off, actually. So, no need to leave.”

Your responding giggles come out jittery. Seriously, there’s something off about you tonight-- your eyes are wider than they ought to be this close to the end of your shift. As happy as you usually get when Adrian comes to visit (something he is apprehensively proud of), there’s just something chaotic emanating off of you right now.

“Now, as I was saying,” you continue, slamming your hands down on the counter. “The owners of this joint decided they wanna keep up with Starbucks. So, I have a special treat in store for you tonight! Something that’ll really help with your weird little all-nighters.”

Some dots begin to connect in Adrian’s head. Your restless movements, and too-wide eyes (still shadowed by exhaustion--a sign of being unnaturally Too Awake). Ashe looked like they were in a rush to leave, like they didn’t want to be part of something. What did they say? New product launch?

And your first words to him in over ten years were, “I dunno, cocaine?”

Holy shit, are you coked out of your fucking mind right now?

No, no, no no no no- Adrians claps his hands over his ears and screws his eyes shut and begins humming as loud as he could, very off-key. If he doesn’t hear about the drugs then he has no evidence, and without evidence he doesn’t have to kill you- well, not like he would at this point. But he’d have to tip off the authorities and have you locked up for selling cocaine for the piece of shit owners of the coffee shop (whom he would have definitely killed. Absolutely and without hesitation, especially for getting you involved in something so illegal and being the reason someone else he cares about is taken away from him-)

He feels something light thud off his chest, and blinks open his eyes in a startle. Your arms are crossed across your front, face bemused, and a little annoyed. A plastic cup now rolls against the toe of his sneakers-the thing that apparently bounced off his chest. 

You huff, “Adrian. What gives?” You tap your foot agitatedly, the energy in your system shifting from excitement to irritation. “I was just telling you about our Cold Brew-”

“Cold brew?” Adrian cuts off, hands hovering away from his ears now, face scrunching up in confusion. “Is that what the new street name is for it?”

You search his face, utterly lost. “What?”

“I mean, I guess it makes sense?” His arms fully lower back down, gears turning in his head as he parses the name. “Considering some of the other names for it are related to snow. So, something cold, and because this is a coffee shop, tack the word ‘brew’ onto it. Huh. Y’know, if it weren’t illegal, I’d be totally impressed with the creativity.”

“Christ, Adrian-” You roll your eyes. “How many times do I have to tell you that was a joke? We don’t sell crack here! Cold Brew is a drink.”

Adrian’s relief is palpable as he smiles, letting out a breath that relaxes his shoulders. 

“Okay, good, because-” he pauses to chuckle- “it would have been bad if word got out that you were dealing drugs here! Imagine if that Vigilante guy-” (he says ‘Vigilante guy’ with such comical exaggeration, he misses the way it makes your eyes narrow in suspicion)- “he’d probably- probably have to kill everyone that works here!” 

He continues to laugh, jarringly loud, in an attempt to assure you he’s joking. He’s not, like, threatening you, or anything. Like, how would Adrian even know for sure what Vigilante would do? Not like he knows the guy. 

A beat of silence passes between you both before you continue dismissively.

“Anyway. Back to what I was saying. We have Cold Brew now! It’s like iced coffee, except better. Stronger. Faster.” The light returns to your eyes as you promote the drink to Adrian like a good little barista. 

“Faster?” questions Adrian.

“Yes!” you affirm. “That’s gonna be my pitch to customers to convince them to go for the more expensive iced coffee.” 

“But how is it faster? A drink can’t be faster. That doesn't make any sense.”

“It’s about how it makes you feel, Adrian. Don’t question my methods. Look, I even taste tested the drink myself to better sell it. And now, I believe what I’m selling because I’m faster!” As if to prove your own point, you run around the counter to the front door and lock it, and then run back. 

It just kind of looks like your typical running speed to Adrian. Which isn’t terribly fast, all things considered.

That’s when it dawns on him that this super caffeine is the reason you’re practically vibrating out of your own skin.

“Is this Cold Brew worse than the Americano?” he asks, remembering the adrenaline that pumped in his veins that night.

“No no, it’s better!” you promise, misunderstanding his question. “Tastes better, too! I’ll still put caramel in yours, though.”

Adrian then watches you quickly make him one of your new drinks while explaining the process. That, unlike iced coffee, the coffee is brewed in cold water. And how it’s stronger, yeah, but smoother, and sweeter.

(You are pouring him a large. He does not know if he should find this concerning yet.)

After you hand him his drink, you turn back to focus on closing tasks and begin counting the money from the till. 

After taking a sip from the drink (which doesn’t really taste any different from a regular iced coffee. He’s not about to tell you this, though), Adrian says, “Sorry we can’t hang out tonight.”

“Oh, that’s alright!” you say, keeping your eyes on the money. “I’m meeting my friends from Seattle, actually. We’re gonna have a ‘Girls Night,’ so to speak.”

“I take it they don’t know about your other pronoun.”

“No,” you say, glancing up at him with half a smile. “They don't. But that’s a hilarious way to put it.”

When you finally come around the counter to walk Adrian to the front and unlock the door for him, it’s with a sort of rushed giddiness. “C’mon, c’mon, you gotta go so that I can get ready!”

You’re excited. You’re actually excited about seeing these friends of yours. There’s a part of his brain that tells him he should be happy for you, but the curious, agitated feeling of jealousy stirs within his ribs instead.

The idea that you might light up for someone other than him makes him uneasy. What friends are Peacemaker making while he’s away? Are they cooler than him?

“Alright, what do you want?” you ask, pulling Adrian out of his thoughts.

“Huh-?”

“You’re standing there with that pathetic puppy-dog look you get sometimes. What do you want?”

He perks up. “Can I get a good-luck kiss before I go?”

You raise a brow at him. “Luck? For what?”

Adrian blinks. Back-peddles. “Uh, did I say ‘luck’? I meant ‘bye.’ A good-bye kiss.”

You’re smirking at him when you say, “has anyone ever told you you’re kind of needy?”

His shoulders kind of slump a little. “Yeah.” Chris. “But, I mean, you’re one to talk!” he continues, raising his voice. “You throw yourself at me, like, all the time.”

“Excuse me?” you scoff. “Don’t act like you don’t like it.”

Like it? Adrian fucking thrives in it. “Yeah, I like it, but that’s not the point!”

You just stand there, smirking and stubborn and devestangtly pretty in your milk-splattered button-down and undone apron. Frustrated (and still riled up by jealousy), Adrian groans and grabs your face between his hands (warm cheeks, a splotch of some unidentifiable syrup somewhere under his left thumb) and kisses the arrogance out of your smile. 

All your kisses taste like coffee. He pulls your bottom lip between his teeth and licks the flavor there. Soft and sweet--caramel. You moan softly into the kiss, and he takes it as a sign that you hopefully won’t forget him tonight when hanging out with your other friends. He deepens the kiss for good measure, though; traces his tongue on the sharp edge of your teeth, your tongue, tattoos himself into your mouth. 

When you pull apart, Adrian is reassured by your breathlessness that he won’t be soon forgotten. The confident grin as he leaves is softened by his own flushed face. 

Downtown isn’t spectacularly bustling. Really, the nightlife in Evergreen isn’t much of a buzz for tourists. But there’s a club and a (now-closed) Starbucks and a 24-hour diner and other late-night eats, so the locals have something fun to do when they don’t want to take a trip to Seattle, save money on gas and let loose. 

Adrian finds he’s running just a smidge behind schedule. Vigilante was supposed to get to the club just before the intoxicated people started spilling out past midnight, one by one, into the night. Seize the creeps just as they snatched up some drunk and unassuming passerby. Swoop in, break some bones, make the bad guys regret being born, save the day, et cetera. 

But he got distracted along the way. The coffee his favorite barista made was making him antsy, and when he was ready to zero in his focus on his plans for tonight (just the 1 crime, thankyouverymuch), he found he could not sit still long enough. His jittery mind had him scouting the streets looking for trouble, and what he found was a carjacker that he beat within an inch of their life, a couple of vandals that gave him a chase, and a little old lady that he volunteered to help cross the road.

 (“You should be careful being out this late on your own, ma’am,” he told the old woman, seeing her safely onto the sidewalk. “You don’t know what kind of weirdos are out at night!” He laughed behind his mask, an attempt at lightheartedness. The old lady gasped, “oh my.”)

Adrian nears the club. Can feel the bass of it humming in his bones as he approaches. (Or was that the Cold Brew?) He’s on the side of the street that sees less traffic--the entrance of the club faces the main road, but the alley where the creeps lurk in waiting for their next victim is hidden away on the dismal, desolated side street. The street that houses abandoned industrial buildings with shattered windows behind chain link fences that make people think about tetanus shots in passing. Broken glass decorating the grounds, where weed grows in the cracks of the asphalt.

It’s the kind of street people in their right mind know not to walk alone once the sun sets.

But sloshed club-goers aren’t typically in their right mind, are they?

He picks up the clear sound of struggle as he gets closer to the alley way, and the start of a scream that gets quickly muffled. The blood pumping to his heart thud-thud-ing with giddy anticipation. Adrian starts skipping, eager to dive in and save the day and watch the life drain out of some eyes. 

Adrian enthusiastically rounds the corner into the alley, an exultant, “Hey, motherfuckers-” dying on the tip of his tongue as he skids to a halt. 

It’s three of them, of varying heights and weights and yet all similar in their hideousness, and the matching sneers they send his way. It’s not the number or size of them that makes Adrian balk (three is child’s play, really). No, what makes him freeze is the figure that they’re crowding, whose hair is clutched in one of their big unworthy fists, mouth covered by his other hand; whose eyes are familiar, but wild with fear; whose short black dress has ridden up, and whose knees are skinned bloody through torn stockings. 

The one holding you by your scalp--the biggest one--lets go of your hair to pull out a knife, and tightens his grip on the lower half of your face as he pulls you harder against his body. You whimper at the abrupt roughness, and when he draws the knife to your neck, your shriek gets caught between your mouth and his grip.

“Don’t come closer!” he threatens, “or we’ll slit her throat.”

The shock of seeing you wears off, and something cold and other falls over Adrian. Over Vigilante. He notices not a single one of them pulls out a gun. Guess you don’t need guns when your victims are inebriated. 

When Adrian speaks, there’s a smooth, calm chill that enters his tone. “I can’t promise not to kill you if you let her go, but I can promise it’ll be fast, which is more than you three pieces of shit deserve.” His head dips forward. “Which is a shame, because I was really looking forward to making it slow and painful for you fucks.”

One of them is actually visibly nervous, eyes darting back and forth between Adrian and his companions, hands fidgety. This is the one he decides to shoot in the knees.

Adrian whips out his pistol and pulls the trigger twice before any of them gets the chance to react. The nervous one cries out as the bullets fly through his shitty kneecaps. 

A flurry of chaos and movement unfurls in the dark alley like a domino effect as the Nervous One collapses to the ground, howling in pain. The Big One holding you suddenly roars, a sound of fury and pain, as he reflexively shoves you aside against the hard brick walls. He yells out something unsavory-(“You bitch!!”)- and the way he shakes his hand indicates that you may have just bitten him amidst all the commotion. (Adrian feels a quick burst of pride at that.)

At the same time, the third guy pulls out his own blade and rushes recklessly towards Adrian in what can only be considered a pure act of idiocy. Adrian chuckles, deciding to entertain the man and not shoot him in the face. He quickly holsters his gun and side steps just as Shitty Pervert #3 reaches him. The attacker trips forward, unable to stop in time, and Adrian  grabs his shirt collar and tugs, so that the creep is forced towards him and his nose connects with Adrian’s gloved fist in a satisfying, sickening crunch. 

The knife clatters uselessly to the ground as he stumbles, cradling his gushing nose with a groan. 

The cacophony of wailing grown men fills the dark alley way.

“Hah, man you guys are a bunch of crybabies. I would’ve thought all of that toxic masculinity meant you’d be able to take a broken nose and bullets to the knees like a champ.”

At the sound of heavy footsteps charging behind him, Adrian twists his body and sticks out his foot, tripping the biggest one, who crashes into the one with the broken nose. They collide in an ungraceful, painful heap to the pavement. 

The big one is quick to struggle getting up, but Adrian pins him down with a knee to his back, further squishing the other guy into the ground. Adrian grabs one of the big guy’s flailing arms--the one that was clutching your hair--and folds it behind his back. He takes out one of his blades with his other hand.

“Hey,” Adrian mutters, tone gravelly, “I’m going to cut off your fingers, one by one, so that you can feel even just a shred of the fear and pain you’e inflicted on others with these  despicable fucking hands.” 

The man growls underneath him, and continues struggling. This does not deter Adrian, who further cements his hold and starts sawing off his thumb. “This little piggy went to the market…”

Five dismembered fingers later, Adrian pulls away to take out his pistol again, and kills two birds with one stone; the barrel of the gun pressed firmly against the back of the big one’s head, he pulls the trigger and both bodies beneath him fall still.

Adrian rises and turns around, noticing that the one that’s left has been trying to drag himself further into the alley. And he’s sobbing. Gross, warbly, pathetic sounds reverberating off the brick walls. 

“Where ya’ going, buddy?” Adrian stalks towards him and grabs the crying man by the shoulders, dragging him back towards where you sit, trembling against the wall of the alley, attempting to look as small as possible. Adrian crouches, and makes the guy face you with a firm grip on the back of his skull. “You weren’t going to leave without apologizing, were you?”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, please, God-” The words ooze out wet and weepy.

Adrian looks at you. “What do you think? Was that a good apology?”

Your eyes fly to Adrian’s face, as if surprised he’s addressing you. Your mouth is hidden behind both your hands, and you do not lower them to speak. Instead, you glance back to the face of the guy he’s holding, and finally, slowly, nod.

“Good!” Adrian says. 

Cozies the nozzle of the pistol right under the man’s quivering jaw. 

And blows his brains out. 

You jump slightly, squeaking behind your hands, eyes squeezing shut as a small spray of blood decorates your face. Adrian lets the lifeless body drop between you.

“Hey, you’re okay now,” he says. “They’re all dead!”

He gently pries your hands away from your face, unaffected by your flinch. Holding your shaking hands in his gloved ones, he slowly stands up and brings you with him. He realizes this is the first time he’s ever seen you in any kind of jacket. If it weren’t for the short dress, you’d almost be appropriately-dressed for the weather. 

The look on your tear-stained face is queasy. Uneasy. He remembers you do not know it’s him under the mask. 

“Where are your friends,” Adrian asks, remembering your planned Girls Night. For some reason, this question makes your face crumple, and you begin to cry. “Hey, whoa-” Adrian goes rigid, letting go of your hands- “I didn’t- what’s wrong?”

You hide your face behind your hands as sobs begin to wrack your entire body. You say something unintelligible into your open palms. He can’t parse a word of it. 

“Hey, okay,” Adrian’s hands hover uselessly over your arms as he begins shushing you. “There, there?” He’s out of his element here. You’ve never cried in front of him before. He’s seen you sad, or distant, or grumpy, but this is unfamiliar. 

“Is there, uh, someone you can call? Someone you trust to come get you?”

The crying slows, then quiets into a hiccup, and you peek at him from between your fingers. “Someone I trust?” 

“Uh-huh. Someone that can get you home safely.”

Your hands drop completely from your face, and something in your expression changes. Softens a bit. “Yeah, there is someone…” Despite the blood now smeared across the bridge of your nose and your cheeks, and the smudged makeup, your lips curve into a small smile. It is very, heart-achingly lovely. And for whatever (drunken) reason, you begin rambling.

“He’s great, actually! The best, most sweetest guy I know. I don’t even know what I did to deserve his attention, let alone his friendship-hic!- he’s just, like, really silly and he’s so, so nice to me-” 

Who the fuck is this guy? Adrian thinks, a little annoyed. A lot jealous.

Your phone is in your hands now, grinning stupidly at your screen as you pull up some guy’s number. What the fuck? He’s the one that’s supposed to be making you smile like that. Adrian crosses his arms, head cocked to the side in irritation. 

You raise the phone to your ear, muttering, “I hope it’s not too late,” to yourself, starting to chew your bottom lip.

When Aqua’s Barbie Girl starts playing from his back pocket, you both freeze.

Your eyes slowly drag themselves up until they rest on his face, brows knitting together as you make eye contact with him behind the visor.

“S-stay right here,” Adrian says, throwing his hands up as though it will cement you to the wall you’re leaning against. “I just- gotta take this real quick.” 

He turns and half jogs out of the alley, and rounds the corner before pulling the phone out of his pocket. He’s a little breathless when he answers the phone and says your name. “Sorry if I sound out of breath right now. Just got back from jogging a half mile, if you could believe it! I know it’s, like, crazy to run at this time but I figure I’m safe at night, y’know, since I’m a man, and I’m white-”

“Adrian?”

His name comes through a rattled whisper on the phone. But loud and clear from his left. He whips his head around.

You’re standing at the mouth of the alley, gaping at him, stunned. The blood flowing from your knee shines wetly now under the glow of the street lamp. In the light, he also notices a tear at the hem of your pretty dress. 

Your cell phone falls from your hand. 

A second later, you’re bent over. Hurling on the sidewalk.

taglist: @whatevermonkey

#peacemaker #vigilante #adrian chase #adrian chase x reader #writing #fanfic #vigilante x reader #mine

[eggtartz]

a/n : been trying to write about this man for a long time but couldn't find out how so here we are... a genuine attempt to write about him so might be ooc!

summary : taiju shiba fluff as taiju is a religious man and he genuinely thinks you're an angel God have sent to Earth.

wc : 752

it was Sunday which meant taiju had a preach at the church to attend early today. he cannot afford to be late so he woke up extra early to comb his hair and suited up for his weekly preach. taiju shiba was a simple man. after being in a wrong relationship with his siblings after the death of their mother, taiju simply became selfish and took love and turned it into violence. however taiju now is a changed man and he will protect his relationships as best as he can.

if only there was someone who he could share warmth with, share stories with.

taiju shiba has planned to get married before but going around to church and having to attend preach and doing tons of baptist chores, he didn't had the time to look for someone. it was also because his past history, the fear he holds that creeps to his spine just thinking about hurting his loved ones again.

taiju arrived at the church exactly at 9 at the morning just an hour before the preach and was greeted by the local sisters. he went to the back part of the old building to prepare himself and prayed a little prayer, to seek strength and courage from the Lord. while he was doing so, he was interrupted.

"excuse me? father shiba?" he opened his eyes and looked at you. oh, how your beauty stunned him. you were wearing a white gown which fall just after your ankle and wore a cute pretty pink ribbon hairband. eventhough taiju was sitting you were still shorter than him so taiju imagined you'll look even shorter if he stand. that might scare you, he thought so he remaindd seated.

"yes, may i help you with anything?" he asked while boring his eyes on your lovely face. he stared at your dreamy eyes, how your bangs almost fell, how you were slightly frowning, your lips slightly ajar and you were wearing a pearl earring. wait, you were frowning?

"father? father, are you alright? my apologies i might have been rude for interrupting your preparation before your preach. if you'd like i'll come back and be back after the preach?" you said. oh how you didn't knew, you didn't he was merely admiring you. how you looked you magnificent that he thought God rewarded him with an angel.

"yes, well i hope to prepare first but i'll see after the preach. only then we'll have the every minute in the world to discuss whatever it might be about" he said while meekly smiled and you walked pass him after saying good luck to him. how you were so sweet he didn't realized thst the weekly preach has come. so for the first time after seeing you in your seat, smiling brightly to him, the infamous father taiju shiba stammered. the audience was a bit shocked but after a while he managed to finish his preach without any stutters or stammers and ended it with a round of claps from the audience.

while evergbody was leaving, taiju used his tall figure for his advantage and searched for you. after a while he saw you outside of the building buying a small trinket from the local's. you noticed him and started to walk towards while he did the same, cutting the distance.

"father shiba, that was a great preach. i'm glad that i got to hear that" you compliment made his stomach flopped and it wasn't from anger. it was purely from happiness. "well, you shouldn't flatter me too much now i may force you to say it everyday" he teased making you slowly laugh. oh that laugh, what a harmony that he's willing to do everything to hear it again.

"well father shiba i'll say-"

"taiju. just call me taiju" he said again while averting his gaze, fearing that he will fall for you again but even harder.

"well taiju, i'm y/n and i'm also new to town. maybe give me a quick tour or-?" you prolonged the question and now it was your turn to study his face. he was red, oh he was red and he couldn't even covered it.

"alright then y/n let's go let's not dilly dally anymore the town isn't small-"

"are you possibly blushing right now taiju?"

"AM NOT"

well said you two had a great time together and he now looked forward to waking up everyday knowing you were existing in his life, to make his life better.

#tokyo revengers #tokrev #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x yn #tokrev x y/n #tokrev fluff #tokyo revengers fluff #taiju fluff #taiju shiba #tokrev taiju

[heavenwontbethe-same]

Something More

pairing: jace herondale x sebastian morgenstern

warnings: does not contain explicit smut but it is implied, mpreg, somehow became an actual fic than a crack one?? ooc characters

summary: sebastian knocks jace up

A/N: based on the drawing by cassandra jean. requested a long, LONG time ago, sorry.

the rain battered the window as the song played in the background, calming sebastian. he drank out of the cup in his hand, his mind drifting to different places.

he still had a long way to go before the other shadowhunters fully trusted him, even though the demon blood had burned away from his system in edom. he didn't blame them, he had done some truly despicable things while the demon blood still ran through his veins.

he was slowly going down the path of self loathing again, which happened every time he thought of his life before, when the bell rang. he opened the door, truly not prepared for the person he saw standing there.

jace herondale. soaking wet (and not in the pleasurable way). on his doorstep.

sebastian never thought he'd see jace again, not after how abruptly he had left the morning after. if he tried to, he could still remember feeling the cold bed beside him, the sun filtering in through the window, and an empty, tight feeling inside his chest.

it was easily the best sex either had had in their lives. unbeknownst to the other, flashes of that night ran through both their brains. how it started after an hours long sparring session, with the heat running through their veins. sweaty hands scrambling for purchase on the training mat, desperate kisses, and their sounds echoing off of walls of the empty floor.

sebastian was brought out of his thoughts when jace said his name, wide eyes staring at the man a step below, disbelieving. as if trying to commit his face to memory. the silence between them stretched until the space seemed insurmountable. just as he was about to open his mouth to finally say something, jace startled him by kissing him.

it was all tongue and teeth and more desperate than the last time they had done this dance. sebastian's warm hands a contrast to jace's cold body, tugging at clothing until it all lay in a heap on the floor. they stumbled backwards to the bed, panting and gasping. sebastian's name from jace's mouth sounded like a prayer, sounded like something holy, sounded like something he knew he was undeserving of, but hoping he could be. he looked at jace again, at his soft eyes, fluttering lashes, swollen lips and flushed skin. he hoped it would be different this time before he kissed him again.

the next morning, he woke up alone. somehow this hurt more than the last time. it left a pang in his chest, a vice around his lungs that felt like it got tighter every day until it felt like he couldn't breathe. jace avoided him at the institute and he felt worse than he had ever felt before.

this time, when the bell rang and he saw jace on the other side of the door, his expression was guarded, he didn't want to get hurt again.

"what do you want this time, jace? i'm not continuing whatever cycle you think this is."

"can we talk? please?" the vulnerability in jace's voice was rare, at least in front of him, so he invited jace inside. jace sat down on the couch, uncharacteristically nervous and fidgeted with his hands. sebastian looked at him curiously.

"sebastian," jace started again. "i'm pregnant."

the air between them was tense again, as jace held his breath in anticipation of what sebastian might say. a beat, then two. then sebastian jumped over, almost toppling over the coffee table in his haste to envelop jace in a bone crushing hug. in all the different scenarios running through his mind, jace had never imagined as... enthusiastic of a response. he awkwardly patted sebastian's back and when he pulled back, sebastian had tears in his eyes.

"sebastian? are you okay?" jace asked, the words less bitter than they might have tasted even just a few months ago.

"yeah, yeah. it's just- i'm gonna be a dad? with you? holy fucking shit." sebastian said, wiping his eyes. "that is, if you want to keep it?"

"that's the thing. i came here to tell you that i'm keeping it whether you decide to be involved in their lives or not." jace said, rubbing his hand over his abs.

"jace..." sebastian started, "i know you might not believe me, and even i don't fully know what it is that i feel about you, but all i know is that it hurt when i saw the bed empty, it hurt when you avoided me. i care about you. a lot. and i care about the baby. i want us to be a family, if you'd like that?"

all the usual snark was gone from jace's voice as his face and voice softened, and the effect was so breathtaking that sebastian thought he might have ascended to heaven, no matter how undeserving he might be of it. a smile broke on jace's face and he reciprocated.

"i'd like that." jace finally said, and they shared a sweet kiss, chaste and full of hope for what the future holds. they parted, breath mingling.

"who knew that all it'd take is me knocking you up, pretty boy?" sebastian said.

and jace thought that he'd forgive this terrible joke just this once and laughed.

*****

A/N-2: that baby is fully coming out of his rectum

#sunny writes #the shadowhunter chronicles #tsc #the mortal instruments #tmi #jace herondale #sebastian morgenstern #jace x sebastian

[librosamarillos]

passed down like folk songs

chapter 14: oh, crone

Maegor Targaryen x OC

Also on Ao3

chapter index

Tags: hurt/comfort, friends to lovers, angst, mature themes, targaryen incest, violence, Maegor is a red flag himself, characters are ooc probably, MINORS DNI

hope y'all enjoy! some trouble starts to brew <3

Going to the morning prayer with his daughter was a tradition Duncan held up since she was little. Wherever they were travelling, they always made time to start their day with prayer. In King’s Landing, the sept of remembrance, built in the name of the late Queen Rhaenys, had become their destination quite often in the mornings. As the septon sang the usual prayers to the seven, Duncan bowed his head and silently prayed.

“Oh Crone, grant me the wisdom to make the safest choice for my child. Don’t let me make a choice that will cause her harm, help me see what I cannot, help me see if I can trust them with her.”

When he lifted his head, he turned to see Rowan, still bowed down in prayer, as well as his niece and nephews. It was a lovely day and the city was booming with all those who had travelled to swear to the King and it was the perfect time for his family to explore and enjoy what King’s Landing had to offer. The morning prayer came to an end and everyone was exiting the sept, but Duncan felt it in his heart to stay back for a moment.

“Go on, I’ll be right out.” he told his brother, who ushered his children outside, along with his daughter.

Duncan made his way to the statue of the Maiden, kneeling down as the sept emptied. He lit a candle and crossed his hands in prayer.

“Protect my daughter, my little girl. Please guard her from anyone who’d wish her harm, from anyone who’d hurt her innocence and virtue. Keep her safe, I beg of you.”

He was no fool. From the moment Aegon declared Aenys his heir, people had doubts. They remembered the small, sickly child, and the young and charming prince, but a King? No one voiced their disagreements, no one was foolish enough to do so, but Duncan kept his ears open. He knew that with Aegon’s death, problems would arise, and he was not convinced Aenys had what it takes to deal with them all. The offer Visenya made to his daughter was a generous and honourable one. Very few had the honour to be her ladies in waiting, and Rowan could benefit greatly from it. He had little doubt in his daughter’s abilities, no, but the unrest that was brewing was another story entirely. If his suspicions proved correct, he’d be leaving his daughter alone for half a year, in a court that could end up shattered. He hadn’t left her alone for such a long time before, not after Edith had died. He wasn’t sure if he could trust the world to be kind to his little girl.

Visenya had become a dear friend over the years, he knew how close she was with his girl. He was happy to know that Rowan would not miss out entirely on having a maternal figure, but leaving her in her care alone was not something he thought he’d ever do. Then there was Maegor. Gods be good, he cared for him deeply as a boy, but he was not sure he could trust him around Rowan now. Duncan heard of the whispers of his growing cruelty, how he was angrier, short tempered, how could he sleep well knowing he was always near his daughter? Especially after knowing that neither’s feelings had changed at all? He had to admit, he was really good at masking how he felt, but after knowing him since he was but a babe, Duncan saw right through him. He was a volcano ready to erupt at any minute, and how could he be sure Rowan would not be caught in the middle? He could taint her virtue, ruin her, create a schism between their house and the Hightowers, should he be caught doing what Duncan feared he’d do. He had to find Visenya.

He tried to shake the thoughts out of his head as he rose to walk out, wishing to be able to relax while running errands with Rowan. He could see her talking with Finn just outside the door, laughing about something. He started to hear as he walked closer.

“Surely, you can not prefer the honeycakes here to the ones back home! What have they done to you Rowan! Is it not always you who complains about the taste of honey when it’s not the one from our beehives?” Finn laughed, teasing her.

“I never said I prefer them, only that they were delicious! Do not be such a snob, we’ll try them after lunch, we’ll meet you there.” she replied.

“You won’t be joining us? I thought you were going to give us a tour of the city you’ve grown so fond of. You promised!” he protested, crossing his arms.

“I need to visit the tailor with father. We have some errands to run, then we’ll meet you guys for lunch near the centre. Or here if it’s easier, so you don’t get lost again.” Rowan teased.

“Gods, that was one time!” he complained, smiling at her.

“Oh, forgive me!” she begged sarcastically, making a pleading gesture.

Duncan smiled at the two as he approached them. He remembered telling a two year old Finn that he now had a little cousin, and how excited he was to finally have someone to play with. The two had the most in common compared to the rest of the family, especially when it came to the subjects they loved to study. Finn had grown into an excellent young man, preparing to one day take over house Evergreen.

“I’m afraid I have to steal her now, Finn. I trust you’ll all find your way back here later?” Duncan chuckled and patted his nephew’s shoulder.

“I cannot promise anything, uncle.” he joked.

“Right, now have fun looking around and keep your wits about you. Make sure Archie doesn’t run off too far.” he advised and offered Rowan his elbow. “Shall we?”

“Of course! See you later, Finn!” she waved goodbye and they began to make their way to the seamstress.

It was the time when the city truly woke up, right after the morning prayer, when people walked around before heading to their jobs, when children were finally stretching their legs after sitting still in the sept for an hour and when everyone began their errands. He loved spending time with his daughter when he could. He knew that once she married, their errands would not be run like they have since she was a girl, so he cherished each moment he could. She was now a woman grown, and it was time for him to find her a groom, but he kept postponing it, because he saw how the hurt had not left her. He was afraid it never would. And now, with Visenya’s offer, things could get murky.

“Have you given it any thought?” he asked as they took their stroll in the streets.

“I have, perhaps, too much.” she sighed, holding onto his arm. “I could barely sleep, all I did was ask the crone for guidance until my eyes could no longer stay open.” she admitted, looking around the small market that began to take form.

Duncan smiled at her, wondering how it could be that they were so similar. He followed her gaze to the people who were setting up their goods to sell, taking note of things they could pick up once they finished with the seamstress. The markets here were nothing in comparison to the ones in Oldtown, but with proper city planning, he was sure they could stand a fighting chance.

“I would love to be here with her, I always miss her terribly when I’m not here. I truly wish to help her and all, but… well, you know. I wish I could say it got easier, but I’m afraid it would be a lie.” she spoke softly, she always did.

“Give your heart a break, Rowan, you do not have to accept. She will not hold it against you if you do. I don’t want you to be in pain if you’re going to stay here.” he said, moving some curls away from her face with his free hand. “You’ll grow to thrive in the role, I know it, but no amount of social advantage is worth it if you’re miserable.”

“Perhaps… I can ask her if I can try it out? Stay for a moon and see if I can do this? Do you think she’ll agree?” she asked. “Better yet, do you think it’s a good idea?”

“I think that’s fair. Ladies tend to have a small trial period to see if they like their ladies in waiting, for you it’ll be the other way around.” he smiled at her.

The two had arrived at the familiar shop of the seamstress, Bertha, who had become a friend to Duncan. He led his daughter inside and closed the door, taking in the rolls of fabric that adorned the walls, before spotting the owner in the back.

“Good morning Bertha, how have you been?” he walked closer to greet her.

“Oh, Duncan, back in the capital again? And Rowan, how have you been? I haven’t seen you in so long!” Bertha grinned at his daughter, who returned her smile.

“I’ve been well, thank you! How are you holding up with all the new people in the city?” Rowan asked politely.

“It’s been noisy these past fortnights, but what can you expect? Are you here for a new dress and tunic?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

“Yes, we are. Weather’s getting warmer.” he smiled, turning to look around the store.

He settled on a lightweight green fabric that would match the rest of his wardrobe. He saw that Rowan was gravitating toward a bright violet fabric, reaching out to feel it against her hand. Lucas smiled.

“Do you like that one, Rowan?” he asked, earning a nod.

“Well, I have your measurements already Duncan, but you young lady, have gotten a bit taller, come back here so we have them up to date.” the short, black haired woman commanded, with Rowan following.

After the measurements, the talks of the problems she was facing and the choices of fabric, they exited the shop and made their way to meet the rest of their family. The afternoon was spent in good spirits, with Finn and Rowan leading the younger ones around the city to hear the musicians that would gather and the singers. Duncan sat with his brother and goodsister, keeping an eye on the kids, while they enjoyed their tea and biscuits.

It was late afternoon when he made his way back to the unfinished red keep, on a mission to speak with Visenya personally. The halls were a lot more quiet recently, seeing as everyone seemed to mourn the loss of Aegon the dragon, Visenya most of all. He arrived at her door, stating his intention to speak with her to the Kingsguard sworn to her, who promptly let him in. The dowager Queen was solemn, looking over what appeared to be raven scrolls. He did not pry.

“Thank you for seeing me, your grace.” he greeted.

“I’ve told you many times, you’re always welcome to speak to me, Duncan. I was surprised you didn’t come earlier, in fact.” she turned to him, placing down the small parchment she had just read.

“I wished to speak to my daughter first, to see how she felt about the situation, before I came to you.” he sat on the chair, keeping his eyes on her. “Why did you ask her?” he boldly questioned, earning a look of surprise and disbelief from the warrior Queen.

“Do you not think your daughter is capable of such a role?” she asked, violet eyes now wide.

“I find my daughter most capable. What concerns me is leaving her here in the capital for six moons a year, especially in such conditions.”

“What ‘conditions’ are you talking about?” she urged, already knowing the answer.

“Visenya, let us not pretend.” he called her by her name for the first time. “You see the doubt in people’s eyes, you hear the whispers of rebellions. You think I’d be okay with leaving her in this potential mess? Not to mention the prince…” he whispered as if the walls had ears.

“You seem to forget, Duncan, that I have a dragon. And so does my son. If Rowan would be safe anywhere, it would be here. Do you think I’d ever let anyone touch a hair on her head without losing theirs? And Maegor…” she averted her eyes for a moment. “Do not worry about him. He will not step out of line, you have my word.”

“Swear it.” Duncan rose from his seat, walking a bit closer to her.

No matter the affection he had for Maegor, he refused to turn a blind eye or leave any room for him to think it would be alright to approach his daughter.

“What?” Visenya asked, raising a brow as if she did not hear him well.

“Swear it to me, that you will keep her from harm and protect her virtue. I do not take her safety lightly, you wouldn’t either. So swear it to me.”

She thought for a moment, before nodding. Visenya rose as well, meeting him in the middle of the room, away from the scrolls she was occupied with.

“Duncan, I swear it to you, I will keep her from all and any harm, and her virtue will not be tainted. Anyone who dares to try shall answer to Vhagar.”

“Even if it’s Maegor?” he boldly asked.

“Maegor will face something much worse. Me.”

As Maegor walked to the small council room, he let his eyes look around. It was an embarrassing look to all of those who came to swear to Aenys. The keep was still unfinished, walls undecorated, not enough rooms and not enough of it was decorated. He’d have to tell Aenys about it. It was a pathetic castle for their great house. He wondered just how grand his father wanted it to be, if he had any of his plans somewhere. Did he share the same vision for it as him? He wanted to say it didn’t matter, but he desperately wanted the answer to be yes. His mother spent a lot of time in his chambers ever since they arrived here, perhaps she knew. He would ask her soon.

With so many nobles staying in the city, there was an influx of knights and guards in the castle, to make sure the King’s family was safe- since the castle still wasn’t. He would have strong and thick walls around- perhaps a holdfast. This is where their family resided, it needed to be the safest place in all of Westeros.

He slowed down his pace when passing by his mother’s chambers. He had hoped he could run into Rowan again, to feel like he could breathe once more. It was rather pathetic of him, he knew, walking around aimlessly at times, just in the hopes to catch a glimpse of her hair, if he was lucky enough he could even catch a whiff of jasmine. He wondered if Ceryse noticed a difference in him these past nights, and he hoped if she did, that she wouldn’t bring it up. It was a strange understanding between them, pretending the other was someone else.

Before he knew it, he reached his destination and walked through the doors with purpose. It was his first meeting with the council, he wanted to make sure everyone knew just who they were dealing with. He was early, only Aenys and his hand, Alyn Stokeworth were present, their smalltalk dying with his entrance. Alyn seemed to stiffen when he laid eyes on him and Maegor had to stop himself from smirking. He was scared. Good. Aenys greeted him joyfully, unaware of the heavy mood of his hand, or the rest of the court. Was he truly that out of touch? Did he need their father to guide his every move to the point where he did not pick up on the doubt and rumours on his own? Soon the rest of the council came in, looking solemn. It was the same council his father kept, but since Maegor was never invited to join in before, he only knew what his mother told him. She always made sure to keep him in tune with the happenings, including him when she held court and letting him know about anything she had heard. His mother prepared him properly. His father, seemingly, did not prepare Aenys that well. At least that’s what it appeared to be.

“We’ve received some alarming news, your grace. Two rebellions have broken out, seemingly with the opportunity of all the lords being here to swear to you.” Grandmaester Gawen spoke up first, his voice as serious as Maegor remembered it. Something about him always rubbed him the wrong way. “The Vale has been taken over, Jonos Arryn having taken the rightful lord, Ronnel Arryn, captive. He has declared himself King of the Vale.”

“Where else?” Aenys managed to ask, once the shock settled in. “Where else has rebellion broken out, Maester?” his voice was still soft.

“Harrenhall has been taken by an outlaw. He calls himself ‘Red Harren’ claiming to be the grandson of Harren, your grace.”

Maegor studied his elder half-brother’s face. He was very openly distraught, his eyes betraying confusion at the announcement. Maegor knew people loved him, but to be delusional enough to think no one would rebel after the death of their father was foolish. They were testing him, to see if he was truly their father’s son, or as the rumours had it, a bastard of a singer his mother entertained.

“What shall we do, your grace?” his hand spoke up.

Aenys seemed baffled by the question, slumping back into his chair, tapping on his chin, before turning his attention back to the maester with the greying hair.

“Maester, did they say why?”

“Your grace?”

“Why did they start a rebellion? Were they displeased?”

The room fell silent after the King’s question. Many baffled gazes were on him, wondering if he really just asked such a question. Maegor wanted so badly to just scoff at him.

“They’re pushing you, to see how much disrespect you’ll allow them to get away with.” Maegor spoke up, his deep voice startling everyone.

Aenys looked at him with wide eyes, contemplating for a moment.

“What are you suggesting I do, brother?” he asked, almost like a puppy lost.

“Send me. I’ll take Balerion to the Vale, show them that dragons are not to be messed with. I shall gather some lords loyal to the crown to raise an army to crush the rebellions completely. Give me leave, and I shall reclaim both the Vale and Harrenhall in your name.”

Aenys seemed hesitant, perhaps not wanting to shed blood in the first fortnight of his reign, but he was a fool if he thought he’d have a reign of sunshine without working for it. Seeing the rest of his council nod in agreement, Aenys couldn’t help but agree.

“Very well. Prepare your men for battle. Let me know what you will need, and you shall have it.” he decided, trying to look determined.

The rest of the meeting was focused on the logistics of crushing the rebellions, the money and food necessary, the details of it all. Lord Allard Royce had offered to raise his army against the rebels, confident that with Maegor and Balerion’s help, they’d crush them sooner than they had risen up.

They must have been in the meeting for hours, but Maegor did not tire. He could not say the same for the King, who was holding his face with his hands as soon as everyone else left. They never spoke of feelings much, but Maegor understood from their last conversation that Aenys felt alone and frustrated.

“I don’t understand, Maegor. It’s barely been a fortnight, why do they already hate me? They could’ve just talked to me, I would’ve heard them out!” he sighed in defeat.

“You cannot rule like that. The second our father died, they saw the chance to undo his work. You must show them you will not allow that, do you understand? What kind of King allows such disrespect, not only to himself, but to the empire his father bled to build?” he scolded.

“Do you think me such a failure already, brother?”

At that moment, Aenys looked like a child, eyes begging for reassurance. Was he truly so lost and blind? Maegor felt a small surge of guilt for looking so down on him for all his life. In his youth, he wondered what this mysterious big brother he had in the capital was like. If he was anything like his hero of a father, surely, he’d be a great warrior. But that was when he was a boy of five. His father was no longer the shining hero in his eyes, not always, and his half-brother was a disappointment.

“You’ve yet to mess up, Aenys.” he started, trying to reassure him. “I do not plan to let you be a failure. So do not worry too much. I will crush the rebellions and it will be okay.”

He knew he was not a man good with words, but he hoped to at least be of some comfort in this moment. His half-brother had only him and his mother on his side. He could absolutely not entrust his Velarion wife with such matters, for what help would she provide him? Both him and Alyssa had this terrible need to be loved by all, surely if he told her, she’d echo his own feelings back to him. That would not be enough to crush the rebels.

At night he followed his usual routine, visiting Ceryse’s chambers. He hated to admit he was looking forward to it, seeing as he could now vividly use his imagination to relieve himself of all the tension his Rowan had built up in him. But when he opened the door, he found his wife arranging her jewellery, instead of waiting for him on the bed like she normally did. She was a bit startled to see him, but she offered him a polite smile.

“Husband. Good evening.”

“Wife.” he nodded in acknowledgment.

“I heard news of rebellion, is it true you plan to go?” she asked, abandoning her task of arranging the gems in front of her, turning her attention to him completely.

“It is. I’ll be leaving in a fortnight.” he responded, starting to unbutton his tunic.

“Oh,” she said when he began to undress, “I… I have my moonblood.” she said, avoiding his eyes as she said it.

“Again?” Maegor immediately stopped at her words. “It’s been more than a year.” he said slowly, as if testing to see how she understood his accusation.

“How do you think I feel? Do you not think I feel disappointed every month?” she replied immediately, her blue eyes now beginning to show anger at his tone.

“I’ve been dutifully visiting you every single night since we’ve wed. For a year, I’ve done my duty, wife.” he said, almost spitting out the last word.

“What exactly are you implying, husband?” she spat out, mirroring his own anger.

“You know exactly what I’m implying.” he replied dangerously slowly, like a threat, before turning to leave for his own chambers.

At first he had tried to be civil, but for how long was he supposed to keep this up with no results? He had done exactly what he was supposed to, even more than any other man could say, but still nothing. How was he to keep calm about this? Aenys had Alyssa with child within the first few moons of their marriage. He promised Rowan he’d be kinder, but she couldn’t understand his urgency. Ceryse was failing.

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