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dhampling · 1 month

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ivory tower 18+ ASCENDED!ASTARION X AFAB!READER, 4.6K

Something deeply sordid, raw; ungodsly. There’ll be no Lathandrian blessing for your young, no gentle welcome into some family fayre on the outskirts of the city; but you want this.

woah boy! my first ascended astarion piece, so please be kind! dal is back babey! woooo! thank you to @bhaalism and @lipstickghoulie for dealing with me while writing this i love you both endlessly. wc: 4.6k cw: afab reader, female language used. breeding, mind-control, p in v, ascended astarion, public fingering, private banging, great times all round, as always if there are errors no there aren't, creampies, yippee

Baldur’s Gate doesn’t sleep. Not really.

She sometimes slows just enough to find some purchase amongst the muddle, though - tiptoes lazy through highsun in soft linens, the burgeoning swell of soap suds and sunny rosemary through wide open wooden shutters. Lingering - sweat-soaking worn leathers, the sore of the flex in the arch of your foot splayed over cobble. As if to grasp at the memory, your fingers stretch out from your side and on to the dark oak of the armrest, in a moment of sheer jubilance. Summer. The sun. Wide bright mornings. Hopeful and hot as a bated breath.

The city ambles onward this evening, no different despite the inclement weather and the din of an early darkness. Half-lidded through dark streets as rain smatters the roofs with wet, glistening something dozy under the tall oil street lamps and swirls of ever-present heavy fog. Gurgling whilst each drain fills with water and swallows deep into the sewers.

Scatters the hay, bears the slip; sings a slow drunken stutter of thunder-wind whiling at the windows into the small hours. There’s a comfort to be found in it.

The harbour bell will go on to toll for every sail weary ship coming in from the fog; the crescent caress of the Gate’s waiting arms lit low with oily dots of amber. That even this late into the night the bands of trawlers on the dock work crates and barrels into cargo holds with worn hands and ruddy cheeks. The gulls and their scattering squawks. The flapping of their fat feathered wings up into the clouds.

From where you sit in the Ivory Tower you can hardly see anything at all. Fog obscures the streets to a point, other than the light patches under the oil lanterns out on the ramparts. The window runs dripping wet with condensation. Pools under the pane.

A hideaway of sorts within the manor. Newly reclaimed by Astarion in some deal with the quivering council in order to keep him sweet. Not that he has any armies of undead in his retainer to command as yet, but they don’t need to know that. There’s time. You’re still blessedly mortal and able.

Astarion.

He should be skulking the halls somewhere below with that unnerving silent step he’s taken to using. Your cheeks grow warm, the blanket over your shoulders pulled closer into your chest as you allow your mind to run wild; the scald of bliss to your brain like that of some ironmonger’s poker, split straight to the core.

Your love. Your lover.

Amongst his many newfound desires and passions seemingly includes the impetus to redesign a centuries-old palace from scratch, and while you doubt he has the want nor willpower to take the project anywhere near to completion you’re more than happy to indulge him during this burst of creativity. A designer’s eye. Lavish yet not ostentatious, he tells you. Your own private wing of the palace, and one you’ll share together. He has no need for his own private chambers. You’re the only one he wants to be beside. You understand that at its essence, it isn’t even necessarily a want to design for creativity’s sake, it’s important to you both to have every memory of the residence’s former owner gone. Every threadbare tread of carpet, every scuff on the wall; every painting being demounted by workers downstairs and shipped to the auction house first thing in the morning. You can hear them if you still enough, heart still beating in your chest and the low chunter of layman gossip.

The version of him you knew before his ascension was so very scared. Beautiful, but wavering. You loved him of course; and you always will - it was that version of him, the one lost in the wilderness that you fell for, and gods; you fell hard - frenetic and whiny, fleeting as light snow never to settle on the forest floor. Wild-eyed.

But this Astarion - the real Astarion, as far as he is concerned - has you completely and utterly enraptured each day you wake together, the same as ever, from the second your eyes open. Wrapped in those Daerlunian-import plush linens atop your gargantuan newly-installed four poster bed. Face of marble with those cattish dark lashes and eyes of carnelian crush. Enchants every room he walks into, as he always has.

You don’t know he’s with you until a hand ghosts your shoulder, sinewy; with those deft pale fingers deep encroaching on your collarbone in his grasp.

“I didn’t hear you, lover.”

“But I heard you.’

He circles round the velvet armchair, resplendent in his home finery. Not a crease to be seen. Voice soft, yet laced with a bristling concern.

‘Why do you insist on sitting up here?”

You err for a brief moment.

“I can hear the rain on the roof, here. See some bustle when the fog clears. The city goes on.” You shake your head with a smile as he crouches beside you, nestling his head in the crook of your arm.

“But it’s cold. Dark. Come down - I can light the fire in our sitting room if you like?”

“We have so many centuries yet to see together! What sense is there in not observing the world as it is now? Keeping record of the city as we saved it?”

His head lifts and his eyes meet yours, some churlish quirk of a brow in the low light.

“An archivist, now? Is that to be your profession alongside me? Whilst you raise our young?”

“If I wish it to be, yes.”

He laughs, a gentle low hum.

“Then an archivist you’ll be - the most renowned in all the lands. We’ll make it so.’ He stands once more and takes your hands from your lap, bringing them clasped to his lips in a soft, lingering kiss.

‘I’ll begin planning on your archives - I presume you’ll want a library? Or something similar in your wing, maybe even an office. Who knows?”

Astarion looks to the room around you, the shapes covered with old canvas and the rickety floorboards underfoot. Cobwebs in the corner. There’s no grimace nor displeasure. He simply surveys as cool as still water. Objective.

“I’ll have some of the merchants relay their contacts come morning too. If you insist on expanding your territory up here then it must befit you.”

“Befit me?” You grin now. His hold on your hands remains secure.

“If you want me to say it, then I suppose I will. As many times as it takes to get it through that heavy skull of yours.’

His smile reaches his eyes as he circles back behind your chair, fingers splayed over your shoulders once more in a deep round kneading pattern.

‘There’s nothing you won’t have if you want for it. Nothing too good for you to covet, my solace; Saviour to the whole Sword Coast and every plain mite within its bounds.’

There’s a small pause as he bows to kiss the top of your head.

‘And I thank the stars every day that I can provide for you. That you saw the potential in me and lifted me higher, to such profane glory amongst the swill of common man. That my gold, my influence, and terror, and each lift of my blade is at your command and yours alone. That you stayed at my side.”

He doesn’t like to mention the gods, hence the stars. Pointedly brings the grimace back into play, occasionally even furrows with the slightest twinge of anger brewing at his brow. The gods had no role to play in your shared victories. No divine intervention saved him from two hundred years of torment, from certain death after the crash of the nautiloid along that sun-soaked span of rocky beach;-

You did. You with your strange inclination toward the weak man he once was. The shell he lived in like a hermit crab on the shore, nothing more.

On bright days, you thank him for giving you time.

Time to live, time to breathe with full lungs. Time to allow you to burn your eyes in the beating sun with a silver pot of fresh coffee and whatever ridiculous spew the papers hold between the pages today.

You know as you sit in comfortable silence that your time dwindles, and that your turning is inevitable. Your eternal wedded bliss is to be alongside him and will be as vivid in nature as all the colours of the astral plane, if he’s to be believed - and there’s no reason not to see his word as gospel. You can see each moment as crystalline as sea glass on sand. Forever with the man you love more than you’ve ever felt inclined to love anything. The bridal ceremony is but a drop in the vast ocean of your lives together.

He thanks you too. Often alongside you with eyes closed in some dozy recline, forearm hanging lazily whilst he takes the sun on his skin like a blessing. A loose linen shirt akin to the one he wore back at camp at the start of your journey together, strings wide open, a blaze of blinding flesh at the corner of your eye each time he shifts.

The veranda on a clear day. Astarion has assured you he’ll never take this from you. He’ll never take anything that you don’t willingly give him with a clear heart - and why would you give him your ability to bask in the sun, like a street cat in days-warm dust? What purpose does that serve either of you, beyond making you a less useful weapon in his prized arsenal?

At one point, all you wanted was to talk to him - and it rings true even now. The want to be the bearer of all his tales. To learn about him, to be close to him; to hear him tear the world apart with that dulcet snarl, walking alongside each other on the barren dirt trails out in the wilderness. Hop-skipping to keep up with his quiet gait. Giving him back as good as you got. The glimmer of his hair in the sunlight, the way he’d sometimes just stop.

Close his eyes. Feel the heat. The gentle burn of highsun on tender flesh. A soft inhale.

That morning out in the clearing after your first night together. Arms outstretched in a welcome to the light. It had taken a few minutes for it to click as you’d silently watched on, why his sun salutation was so fond. So open.

It’s to be a long engagement with regard to your transformation whilst the manor undergoes renovations. Reason after reason as to why now isn’t the ideal time to commit you to eternity. You know why he wants to keep a hold on your precious mortality for the time being, of course; and that keeps you from the forever embrace of his Dark Kiss. It never changes.

You’ll allow him to sire your children. You want him to. Crave it. Him.

Your very own lineage together, he whispers; frenzied by your ear as his fingers crawl the bare span of your thigh. He can breed you full like fate intended and you’ll have something - besides him - that’ll also last forever. Something of your own surpassing the death of all of your contemporaries. The Vampire Ascendant and The Saviour of Baldur’s Gate, flesh-on-flesh, skin smacking skin; his debauched groans and lewd whimpers as he buries himself inside you, your cooing breaths;-

You’ll wed normally too, for the interested eyes of the city. Some dull ceremony with the elites adorning all tables as gilded pieces might some decorative chess board, deceptive vows. Legally it makes things easier should anything befall either of you but the hassle almost makes the whole thing undesirable - gods, especially because he already treats you as some smitten newlywed might. Adores you. Follows you around the manor, stalking; like some wolf cub after its mother. Carries you to bed each evening and ploughs you senseless, until spit gathers in the corners of your wet, wanting mouth and you can’t see straight through grey-blear eyes.

He likes the idea of you taking his name by law. Melds with your own like it were meant to be, from the starter threads of whatever cosmic tapestry pulled you together, the marriage of your first name to his last, interwoven by a scholar’s hand in gold-shining delicate point.

Ancunín. The House of.

Tapestries. Large, spanning the halls. The Sarsantyr's over in Waterdeep - they’ll be able to create what you’re picturing.

A familiar gaze meets yours. It’s then that you realise you aren’t alone in your mind once more

“If you want tapestries, you only have to ask.”

“In fairness - you didn’t give me a chance to.”

He hums, tilting his head a little in the sun’s glare.

“I’ll send for them. The Sarsantyr's, yes? Have them pack up all their little-’

He pulls a face and lifts his hands in some kind of puzzled shake.

‘Sewing bits? Textiles? I’ll send carriages. They can come and stay in the lower rooms. Create the masterpiece you envision.” Astarion sniggers a little at the thought of putting them in the old dormitory while you remain lost in thought.

“Okay. Check them through first though, yes?

The real event - the wedding - will give you total ecstasy beyond your wildest preconception, you know this. Unfettered and euphoric. Books and books on the topic stacked clumsily beside your bed, reds and greens; the turning of a vampire bride in leather bound prose. You know what to expect in florid detail. You know to trust your lover, that the rabid creature you’ll become is only a temporary mental state precursing an eternity alongside him.

And yet, you wonder about the children. They’ll be here by then. However many he decides is enough, naturally; assumedly under the care of some hired help whilst you engage in your thoroughly bastardised pastiche of a wedding ceremony. You laugh now. He’s still in your head, mulling over your thoughts as soon as you can think them.

Will you miss them? Will they be your last thought before you pass away; Astarion unable to complete this ritual alone as he was unable to before? Will your death lead to his, leaving your dhampir offspring to ravage Baldur’s Gate unsupported by the windfall of knowing parents? There’s still no hesitation, though. You will bear his young. You want to. The consequences either way are vast and long-lasting, and you’d rather be at his side than facing his ire-

“Love, what are these thoughts? What on earth is going on in that very pretty head of yours today?” His voice is a low drawl, pitying yet laced with affection. He sits straight in his chair whilst a hand lazily searches for yours atop the sun-warmed table; beyond the scope of the ramparts wall the low meander of city life continues on.

“Mulling things over.”

“You don’t need to do that, pet. Come now.’ He beckons you onto his lap and wraps his arms around your middle, hand searching for the soft pillow of your chest as your ass backs up to his abdomen.

‘You want me to make it better?”

You nod gently, the sun catching your eye in a particularly bright beam and making you squint.

“Please.”

“Poor thing. It’s okay.” As he coos; one hand finds the curve of soft flesh at your chest, holding the weight of your breast firmly as he starts lightly thumbing at the nipple through your nightshirt.

“There, now. Good girl.” Your head falls back onto his shoulder, a deep sigh as he lulls you into a new state of calm astride him. Birds sing overhead whilst you nuzzle his neck.

“I will miss this warm flesh of yours, you know. Terribly so.’ His other hand moves to your nightskirt, gently hitching the material bit-by-bit up your thighs until you sit exposed to the air. Nobody can see you from here - the faceless crowd little but colourful dots below; Astarion giving a small tense laugh as he feels your pulse quicken against him.

He toys with your skirt, edging ever nearer your exposed cunt; and your eyes flutter closed.

‘But the greater purpose… I just can’t let it go. Us. Our lives together. I sincerely doubt you want to wither away to age; to lose your extraordinary beauty-’

A gentle groan as he feels your warmth.

‘Do you, my most precious flower?”

“Of- Of course I don’t. I want to be with you, as we are; forever.”

“Then we’re going to need to make a concerted start on the only thing setting us back, are we not?” His fingers gently tap on the crux of your pubic bone, threateningly close to your clit. You feel the familiar seep of your slit leaking onto the bunched skirt fabric and you think of honey. Some kind of sweet glaze.

“Yes.”

As you sink further into him his fingers move down just a little to meet your clit; and in response to your delighted sighs he very lightly begins to stroke either side of the engorged flesh. There’s no urgency to his movement nor his demeanour; just a treacle-thick teasing grin as he turns his head to kiss your blazing cheek.

“Good.”

There’s something borderline celestial about the gentle way he touches you, coaxing more of your slick from you with every gentle jerk. He deftly motions ‘come hither’ with a soaking middle finger dipping lightly at your hole then brings your arousal up to wetten your clit once more.

“You want this, don’t you?” A finger slips down to your cunt, this time slipping and nestling deep inside as you feel yourself writhe on him. One arm scrambles around the back of his neck to support yourself while he begins to curl at your spongy spot, and the anchor of your arousal shifts free.

“I’ve been rifling through that glorious mind of yours these past few days and I see you now. You want comfort. To comfort. To seek shelter in those warm lights on the horizon, to know you aren’t alone in the late hours.”

You nod furiously, wincing, desperate to feel him deeper. Thicker. You need more, your fox-eyed paramour giving only the barest minimum he can do to watch you squirm.

“You, with my babe in arm;- oh the image alone does things to you, doesn’t it?”

It’s as if he’s creating the visions in your head as he speaks them, bringing them to the forefront of your mind in hushed coos and silent gasps. As if by magic, the only thing on your mind is a primal need for him to fuck you full. Nothing else, no mind for coffee nor completed manor renovations.

You will be round. You will brim with life before he turns you, and you’ll take to his seed the minute he offers it to you. You’ll accommodate him like no other across Toril could hope to. You wonder if he has the power to decide how many, as he adds another finger to your unbridled torment. If he could choose to speed the process up with a celebration of twins, triplets. An heir and two spares. Maybe he’d wait instead until the first was born, just to ensure the viability of his bloodline. A test.

He’s doing this; you become starkly aware as he withdraws his fingers, spiderwebs of glistening drool clinging to your inner thigh as he brings them between his lips and suckles. He’s giving you these ideas of grandeur because he can. Because you are his. Because you wouldn’t want to belong to anyone else, to be tied to any other notion of whatever a fulfilling life is, if it weren’t one shared wholly by him. With him.

“Let me take you inside, sweet one. Let’s take care of you properly, shall we? Curb this fever, hm?”

Please, you think. Please take this burning hole in my womb and make it full with you. Extinguish the flame with your unholy spend and give me children. Give me oud and orchids and a life of warmth, however long we both may live.

“Use your words, my love. Tell me you want this.”

“I want this. Please.”

On the bed you now lie, the room cool and dark; balcony doors open wide with light-billowing curtains. Sweat consumes you as your thoughts run wild, the smell of your arousal, clammy hands and deep breaths in the low light. Astarion approaches like something from a dream, shirtless now; smirk plastered cheek-to-cheek as he leans over your trembling form with confidence - your lust-addled fingers reaching for his steady form like a ship to harbour.

“You want to feel it, little dove? Feel how you set me alight?”

He pries your wrist from him with gentle urgency, taking your hand under his and skating both downwards; down the plane of his tight torso, slowing to a stop just above his pelvis.

“Tell me - do you want to feel it?”

A small smirk plays at the corner of your lips, but he doesn’t seem to notice - watching the way your hand twitches under his.

“Hm?”

His groan is guttural. Thick. He doesn’t even try to mask it, eyes wide as his hand shifts yours just a little further down and over the blistering burn of his heavy cock through loose linen trousers. A hazy sigh as he moans a small whimper at your touch.

“Please, Astarion. I beg you.”

It’s like his fingers are enchanted, the way they reduce you to this sodden mess. Unable to think unless guided delicately by his superior whim.

“I need to bury myself inside you fully for this to take. I need your full attention, submission; your devotion to our lives together. Do I make myself clear?”

He’s giving you one final chance to withdraw. Your head clears for one sweet moment and you can do little else but stare at his bulge with heavy lids and your mouth agape.

“Crystal. I ache for you. Please, give this to me.”

You lift to meet him in a soft kiss, jaw slackened and cunt ablaze. Nothing else matters, no complications, nor possibilities of horribly mangled spawn from your womb as a result of your copulation. This scalding stupor that sends you insane won’t go away until he quenches it with his seed.

Your response has satisfied him, if the way he stands sharpish and unties his trouser laces is anything to go by. The glassy head of his cock stands purple at his stomach, leaking wild at the slit and red-hot as your hand reaches blindly for him in your hunger.

He gently taps you away and back down onto the sheets.

“Magic?” You hear yourself mumble, still amazed at how surely swollen he must feel with how sore he looks. Has to be.

“Just me.”

There’s a tenderness in his eyes as he crawls back over you, legs instinctively parting and lifting at the knee to accommodate him. Something that compels him to hold your face in the hand that isn’t supporting his weight and just look at you, fondly; for what feels like an age.

Then he shifts once more to angle himself, decidedly spending no more time on preparation. The heat of his cock against your slit is unlike anything you’ve ever known, dizzying yet pleasurable; hard and yet still yielding, and as he thrusts a shallow dip into your core you swear you see angels overhead. Yes, you’re ready. You’ve never been more ready for anything than you are for the sheer ecstasy you know he’s about to give you, and he’s going to give you it in droves. Seismic tremors as he shifts a little and you adjust to him once again.

He nods. He hears you.

Then, he snaps once more; and he’s lost.

Each glub of his cock meeting your spill as he ruts into you; the way you feel it running downward in long dribbles, with each and every mindless hump of his hips eking more honey from your cunt in spades.

You hear the sounds of your shared carnal pleasure and it makes you clench around him in some kind of self-perpetuating cycle. Groans and whimpers and moans and hisses and the frequent egregious slaps to your thighs whilst he chases his high.

He’s perfect like this. Halo of curls above you, voice silken as he calls you every pet name under the sun, his, always. Your legs ache already from being wound so tightly, interlocked around him, and you think of the prespill inside you already. How each fangy showman’s smile means he’s twitching at your cervix and leaking molten gold inside you with every thrust.

It’s not until he nuzzles down to your neck that you remember to offer it, potentially for the last time on this mortal coil.

“Are you asking?”

“Well, you didn’t offer.”

The immediate pang is one of violent nausea, subsiding quickly into a wooze coating the bottom of your stomach in black tar as he fucks upward. Unease. There’s something in his spit, you assume. Something that makes the gaping wounds a little more bearable, a little less raw as he kitten-licks the flesh between swallows. Ice courses your veins with adrenaline as it always does.

Astarion chokes down his first sip with an eager cough. The burgeoning panic wracking your limbs turns into a numbed haze as your lover feasts, big neat gulps whilst he clutches at your ribcage with fingers splayed deep and cock buried to the hilt, like a man starved. His hair tickles at your jaw, the smell of something herbal. Slightly lemony.

He splutters that he’s close and you feel yourself nearing your peak too.

There’s a profane desecration in what he’s doing, painting your walls in an attempt to get you pregnant. Something deeply sordid, raw; ungodsly. There’ll be no Lathandrian blessing for your young, no gentle welcome into some family fayre on the outskirts of the city. No villages to raise them, no cards nor flowers from friends or family; but you want this.

You want him to taint you in his particular shade of crimson, visibly; so the realms know who made The Saviour of Baldur’s Gate come to heel. The man who compelled her through sheer love alone and to whom she gave everything. The indomitable force for whom you’ll die, only to resurrect forever as his.

Visions of your turning don’t scare you - all lightning and thunder, the cries of your dhamplings in some nursery down the towering halls of your palatial wing; and yet you’ll be safe in his caress. He wouldn’t let a single thing happen to you. He won’t.

And as he cums; he calls your name.

Some rhythmic prayer over and over again; and with each kick of his cock he loses some of his bedroom charm and hurtles back to earth, humbly enraptured. More candid. His weary muscles tighten as yours threaten your own release around him.

“Cum for me, now. Milk me.” in a heavy whisper whilst he strokes the soft flesh of your cheek; and you do. You cum harder than you can remember ever before. Each wave of sheer pleasure some blackout tidal wave as you writhe, staccato in his arms.

If you die during the ceremony, you’ll die happy. Should the younglings bite their way through your womb, it won’t matter.

You’re loved. He loves you, in soft kisses and gentle arms carried all the way to the waiting washtub. In the way he sponges your aching shoulders and brings a washcloth to your dazed face.

Baldur’s Gate doesn’t sleep, not really.

But tonight it will, in the patient, visceral bliss of calm before a summer storm.

#my writing #astarion #astarion x reader #astarion ancunin #baldurs gate astarion #ascended astarion #ascended astarion x reader #astarion x female reader #astarion baldurs gate #astarion bg3 #bg3

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celluloidbroomcloset · 5 months

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The more I think about it, the more heartbreaking the line: "I forgive you, by the way. For sleeping with Doug."

First, Stede doesn't talk about sex. He's angered by Calico Jack's questions and insinuations, and he's very clear that "Ed's past is Ed's business." He seems to have zero issues with his crew doing whatever they like with whomever they like, but it's clear he's not participating or particularly talking about it with anyone. We know his married life is loveless, and that he's a closeted gay man who's in love with another man for the first time ever, so sex is a difficult topic for him.

And the one time he explicitly mentions sex, to his wife, is to drunkenly and resentfully forgive her for sleeping with another man. It's harsh, and not just because he's drunk—he emphasizes it. He breaks the statement into two sentences, so that she's very clear what he's forgiving her for. She even seems shocked by it—this isn't something he does. From what we see of their married life he's oblivious and distant and awkward, but he's not cruel.

The whole sequence from the art opening onward is juxtaposed against the Ed and Izzy scene where Izzy bullies Ed back into becoming Blackbeard and eventually the Kraken. So this sequence is Stede's "Kraken" moment, as the scene escalates from the embarrassing meanness at the art opening to the cruelty in private.

But Stede lives in a different world than Ed, and his society is shaped by "cutting remarks." Where pirate violence is physical, Stede's is mostly verbal. He knows how to use language against people; it has been done to him, and we see him do it to the French ship, to Izzy, and to Chauncey. He’s very emotionally attuned and he’s adept at getting the knife in when he wants to. He uses it carefully, though, usually in defense either of himself or someone he loves. But if he were to become a bully, he’d be horrific.

We never see Stede being deliberately vicious to someone who doesn’t deserve it, and he's being deliberately vicious to Mary, a woman as thoroughly trapped in that marriage as he is (even more so, because she has very limited options for escape). What we know, which Mary doesn't yet, is that his viciousness is coming from the ache of what he left behind.

Stede was able to try to reconcile his return as "doing his duty" for his family, and what he finds is that his family have moved on. Not only that, but the wife whom he was at least imprisoned with, who at least shared in some degree his discomfort and unhappiness and was obliged to make it work with him as far as they both could, has found the love and pleasure that he's denying himself. He's isolated in a way he wasn't before. He wants to isolate her again so that at least he still has some kind of companionship, even if it's just in suffering.

Mary's fears are clear. If Stede decides that she can’t be with Doug, he has a LOT of power to stop her. He’s a wealthy male landowner; he legally owns her and the children. He can ruin Doug and he can make her life hell. He legally and culturally has a lot of control over her sexuality. I don’t think for one minute that Mary ever feared Stede their entire life and she fears him now.

It is cruel, and it's not Mary's fault. Nor is this who Stede is, or who he wants to be, though it's clearly a sign of who he can become. Again, like the scene at the art gallery, the scene between them is important to develop how repression and self-loathing can warp a person, even someone as genuinely kind as Stede. He is so desperate to “do the right thing” that he’s twisting himself up into the very kind of man who has hurt him. And beneath it is the longing for Ed and the love and passion that he’s denied himself.

That this all pushes toward a breaking point where Stede and Mary are finally able to understand each other, and Stede is finally able to say that he's gay and he's in love with Ed, makes that moment much more powerful. Mary was perfectly ready to hate him and at least save herself, but she helps him find the words to express who he is and what he feels, and who he wants.

The poison turns into positivity.

#ofmd #our flag means death #stede bonnet #mary bonnet #edward teach #ofmd meta #our flag means death season 1 #ofmd season 1 #gif #long post #my wee thoughts #would love to hear other people's as well #i like mary #i like the arc that they give her and how she's more than just a function of Stede's arc #i like that she helps him too #and he figures out to be the best husband he's capable of being for her

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redsaurrce · 2 years

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LESSON I

LESSON II / LESSON III

Synopsis : In which he took every opportunity to fuck the daylights out of you.

Pairing : YandereTeacher!jungkook x bully student fem!reader

Genre : smut, high school au

Word count : 4.0K

Taglist: @darkuni63

Warnings : 18+, Profanity, kissing, nipple play, YANDERE THEMES, use of stick and blackboard marker at intimate parts, chewing gum used for sexual purposes, non-con, mentions of licking sneakers, cumming

You licked the lollipop around your plump lips as you pulled it out with a pop, your left boot rested on the shoulders of the boy who tried to flirt with your best friend last night in the party.

"Listen you rat! If you are found to make a move on Arin once again," you looked down at him with threat filled in your eyes, "I'll make sure your father gets kicked out of his job and never get a chance in another company." The boy's eyes flickered and he dropped down while rubbing his hands asking for apology, "I'm so sorry Y/N, I'm very very sorry Arin this won't happen again."

You smirked. Afterall you were the richest kid in your school, who comes from a powerful chaebol family, your grandfather was next in nomination to run for the president. No one would dare harm a single hair on your body because they knew your background, your impact.

It was deadly.

Although you were infamous as a rich snob or the bully, you didn't particularly go on bullying people for no reason. A coin has both sides, people picked up whichever side they wanted to see yours themselves. Some admired you for saving them from other assholes while the others either hated you because

1- they were those assholes

2- well yeah you did sometimes lose your temper over petty things and bullied them

3- simply out of jealousy

But did you really care? Nope!

You were chewing your gum as you took your seat, crossed your legs and took out the biology book and flipped the page to where the lesson was left last day.

God who cared about those cilia and flagella, ugh. You were pissed.

After a moment you saw a person step inside the class who was definitely not your teacher, this man was much more handsome.

You heard the girls in front and back of your desk squeal among themselves, you scoffed. Were they already sold before this man even opened his mouth?

You shrugged off, none of your business afterall.

"Hello everyone I need your attention, today onwards I will be taking your biology classes instead of Mr. Leviski." He smiled, all were swooned.

"I am Jeon Jungkook, nice to meet you my dear students." And everyone chirped in with enthusiasm, "Nice to meet you too Mr. Jeon."

He started reading the chapter while you listened to him with half lidded eyes only waiting for the period to end already.

You yawned, "You there, what's your name?" He said while you kept looking at those big letters on your book which read 'cytoskeleton' . Arin who was sitting next to you nudged at your elbow and whispered, "Y/N he's asking about you!" You saw her from the corner of your eye then shifted your attention to your new teacher. You raised your forefinger and pointed towards yourself, "me?"

"Yes you, what is your name?" He asked you in all seriousness while you were still unbothered. "Y/N, Han... Y/N." You emphasized slowly on your name for him not to ask you to repeat again. But why, to him the way you said your name sounded so seductive in addition to those uninterested eyes? Was he getting delusional? He sighed as he ran his hands through his hair.

"No student is allowed to chew anything in my class, throw it out, now!" And he firmly pointed his thumb towards the door. You almost groaned, lord it was his first day and he was already beginning to get fucking annoying.

You were walking through the corridor and sighed, what a boring day and Arin walking next to you wasn't really helping anything to cope up with your boredom. "Y/N!" Finally she thankfully opened her mouth, "Don't you think Mr. Jeon is too handsome to be a teacher? " nope, you weren't thankful anymore.

"I don't know. But it's true that I don't really want him as my teacher." You said with pursed lips. "Oh c'mon are you still mad about the morning incident? " She pouted.

"Well obviously, he needs to be reminded of his place soon enough as--" Before you could complete your sentence you spotted your mother and father talking with the principal and Jungkook with broad smiles on their faces- something that they never gave to you. Beside them stood your elder sister, most probably receiving praises given how good of a model student she was, also the topper of her class.

Your parents always treated her as the princess when they outright neglected you, you were not much of an attention seeker but it did hurt, it hurt to see that they were capable of loving but you were not the receiver, even once.

You took Arin's arm and turned her around to leave but WAIT! Why was that Jeon Jungkook talking with your parents so happily? Was he trying to secure something? You contorted your eyebrows at the thought that your parents never heed their attention to any teacher, he being new to this school at that was pretty much unsettling to you.

It was another day in school while you walked in the cafeteria, carrying your plate to your seat.

As you took in your third bite, a large thud was heard and your foot felt something hot.

"Holy fucking shit! My favorite Fendi sneakers!! " You screamed in anguish as you looked at the curry spilled over them.

You glared at the girl sitting on the floor who had tripped and caused this havoc, you stood up in front of her. "Lick them clean bitch." She cried at the venom-filled words you spat but that was only adding to your anger.

Jungkook entered the cafeteria and he witnessed the scene, in anyone's eye it was evident that you were bullying just another student.

His eyes turned dark, he needed to teach you a lesson.

"Y/N!" His voice echoed throughout the silent cafeteria as it was silenced by your scream.

You groaned, which motherfucker had the audacity to interrupt you?! You turned to see that handsome annoying face once again.

"Follow me to my office, now!"

Fuck! You cursed under your breath.

He looked at you with his dark lustful eyes while you stood at a corner near the door, "Open your shirt" He commanded as he flipped through the register kept on his table.

You sighed, "Mr Jeon can you be specific? I didn't get the reference. "

"I never made one, it is what I told you to do- open.. your.. shirt." Your eyes went wide, the fuck?

You blinked and then scoffed, "What will happen to you if this gets out? Have you ever thought of that?" He sighed as he kept the register aside, "Of course! Who do you think the world would believe? A bully or a sweet teacher? It takes a matchstick to start a fire Y/N and that fire will only burn you, not me." He shook his head with a smirk.

You grit your teeth, "I will tell my father! Do you even know who I am?"

He chuckled, "A spoilt brat whose father wouldn't even care even if she died?"

Your expressions changed completely, clueless of how he knew about it and also scared of what advantage he might take of that information.

"You didn't expect me to know that right? Too bad! Now kneel down and open your shirt, don't make me repeat again." He said casually sitting back on top of the desk in his office.

You hesitantly kneeled down, your hands shaking while opening your shirt. A pink bra with white lace, how cute!

He stood up and went to close the door, "Now open that bra." You clenched your fist in anger, what kind of a punishment was this?

He sighed, "if I repeat the sentence once again I'm gonna kick you out of this room without the shirt." Fuck! You'd be embarrassed to death if people saw you like that.

"Alright then let me repeat again, Y/N open-" and before he could finish you hurriedly opened your sports bra with your boobs bouncing off by the speed you opened them.

He grinned. "Keep your hands off them." He took his stick and tapped on your arms which you brought up to cover your breasts.

You gulped as you removed them. What a good girl! And in an instant he opened the camera on his mobile and it went- snap! Your eyes filled up with absolute horror. "Relax, I won't do anything with the photo as long as you obey me." He smirked.

He then traced the outline of your boobs with the end of the stick which then he pressed on the nipple, pressing them inside. Your face was morphed in pain, you were trying your level best to not stand up and run away from him.

He came closer and sat in front of you, the stick pressing deeper.

"Y/N today onwards you must obey my words and if you don't do so then I'll upload the pic on the anonymous bulletin board of the school." He then removed the stick and stood up. "Put on the clothes back on."

Ever since that incident two days ago, you made sure to avoid Jungkook at every cost, even in the classes you tried to remain as inconspicuous as you could.

You were walking down the stairs while chewing another gum as you felt a little stabilized, your breath hitched as you heard your name, "Y/N come to my office." You knew that voice very well, it's engraved in your head like a tattoo since his sentences kept ringing in your head again and again.

Your heart thumped loudly in your chest as you opened the door.

"Everytime you enter this room, you must open your shirt and keep it inside my drawer. That's the protocol you must follow otherwise your photo will be on the anonymous school bulletin the very next second." He said while not looking up from the paper bundle kept beside him on the table.

Your eyes flickered, just why was he doing this to you? You hesitantly opened your shirt and passed by him to keep inside his drawers. "Now stand in front of me." You followed his words.

"Alright, how many chewing gums do you have?" He asked you and you put your hand inside your pocket to count them. "Three, sir." He hummed at your response. "I told you earlier that no student within my eyesight should be caught chewing anything." -- hold on, that's not what he actually said.

"But sir you said--" "sshh no buts!", he continued, "Lets play a game, the rules are that once you will blow the bubble gum and when I hear it burst with loud pop, I'll let you go. Remember one chance per bubble gum." He had his typical half crooked smile.

You fished out one pack of gum.

That should be easy, very easy for you. You nodded and tore the packet of gum, but to your surprise he slid down your sports bra before you could react, your eyes went wide. "S-sir?" He smirked, "Did you think it would be that easy? Now now, go ahead, chew that gum and pop it off if you can." He held your waist to bring you closer and his mouth attacked on your boobs.

The .. hell?

You grabbed his hair as you tried to be stable, you needed your mind to calm down. Meanwhile the man was truly getting more excited at the tight grip on his hair. You thought if that's the condition then you should quickly blow the bubble gum.

You started chewing-- fuck! He started softly chewing on your nipples as well, it took you a moment to realize that he was copying your chewing movements, he chewed on your cherries the same way you chewed on the bubble gum.

Then you quickly extended your tongue to allow the gum to be blown up, he copied the same action with his tongue lapping aroud your nipples in circles. When you tried to blow air in the gum, he sucked very hard on your hardened bud. Shit! You clenched your teeth and thus you failed to properly blow it!

One chance was gone, two remaining. "It's ok I can certainly pull it off this time" You mentally noted.

You went for second chance and saw him shift to your other breast, repeating the same actions- chewing your nipple while opening his shirt and then he opened his pants.

Fuck you needed to be quick! When you were once again sticking out your tongue to blow it up, his hands slid inside your skirt.

Fuck fuck fuck you needed to rush, you quickly blowed air and as soon as you did it, he harshly pinched your clit making you gasp and the bubble gum fell out of your mouth.

Damn it! Second chance was gone too!

He kept smirking as he removed his saliva dripping mouth from your breast, "Last chance or else you will be sucking on my dick till night, understand?" You whimpered, "y-yes sir."

"Good girl!" He smiled as he kissed your bare stomach which churned inside you. "Now onto the last gum." He said and you took it out.

You opened the packet and saw him kneel down, you were confused but his next action threw you in swirls of disgust. He lifted your short skirt and pulled down your shorts and then pulled down your pretty pink panties already soaked from the sensations he made you feel a few seconds ago.

You gulped and then took the last bubble gum inside your mouth, as expected, his mouth was now on your vagina, chewing your pubis like the way he was chewing your boobies moments before.

Your mind went hazy, you were rapidly cumming inside his mouth and he enjoyed every bit of it. For a moment you had even forgotten how to chew because the feeling was overwhelming. You regained your movement and once again stuck out your tongue. Jungkook squeezed your ass as he pushed his own tongue inside your opening. You whimpered but this time you were determined, no matter what, you will blow it with all your might.

And you did! You squeezed your eyes when blew air, the pressure also made twice your cum come out which filled up Jungkook's mouth deliciously. He moaned at the flavour when he heard POP! Ugh he went easy on you!

You pant for air, mind screaming in victory. He was disappointed at himself for not going a bit more hard on you and he hated it.

He stood up, "Well I think from now on whenever you'll chew bubble gum, you will be reminded of today!" He smirked, "And if I catch you again chewing them, I'll make sure you won't be able to get out of this room."

You went to your class all drained out, you sat on your seat and sighed. "You okay Y/N?" Arin asked you with worried eyes as you had missed a period already. "I'm not." You said before putting your head down as the bell rang.

You were peacefully resting when you heard students greet the teacher who just stepped in.

"Good afternoon students!" Your eyes shot open while recognizing the voice, it was him. Even though his voice was cheerful, you felt nothing but nauseous.

No! You sat up straight immediately because anytime you gave him room for to find flaws in you, he made sure to use it like a wild animal.

He smirked when he spotted you quickly sitting up like a good student, a good girl! He smiled as he looked down at the book.

"My goodness his smile looks so gorgeous, I wish he could step on me while smiling like that." A girl whispered who was sitting behind you and you wanted nothing more than to puke on her.

After finishing the portion of male and female genitals he announced, "Alright class I'll take a test on this portion tomorrow so be prepared alright?" He smiled to the students before walking out of the class. Ofcourse after seeing you, you who was deep in thoughts. He smiled to himself.

No matter how much you tried to focus, the things that happened in Jungkook's office kept flashing in front of your eyes, making you lose focus from your chapter again and again. You didn't even know whom to ask help from- hold on, your sister! She can explain.

You went and stood in front of her door to knock but instead you heard your parent's muffled voices. "So you're saying you want to marry his brother instead?" That was your mother's voice.

You scrunched up your nose, marry? You pressed your ear on the door tightly, "He already is working love, he will also become the future CEO! His brother is still in your school, not to mention in your class- don't be absurd Han Yoo-in." And that was your father's voice.

Well enough of eavesdropping, you walked quietly back to your room. You pondered over what you just heard, was she getting married to a potential CEO against her will?

Guess not all princesses get their lovers and also guess you can't really receive any help from your sister today. Sigh! Gotta do it yourself!

Next day you gave the test, honestly you did try your best reading everything clearly and answering them on the paper, yet you knew that you might have made a lot of mistakes.

Jungkook saw that on your paper - a lot of mistakes and he chuckled to himself. But he knew how to teach his little girl well.

A girl tapped on the side of your desk, "Y/N, Mr. Jeon wanted to see you in his office after school."

Fucking shit!

Your face immediately grew pale, was he going to punish you for the test now?

After the bell rang indicating that the school was finally over, everyone was walking out of the door gleefully except you, who needed to be present elsewhere. Honestly you saw this opportunity to run, but that would only come to bite back in your ass.

You slowly creaked his door open while your hands were practically shaking while pushing it. He glanced at you and then he went through the papers, he pulled out an answersheet, your answersheet and he clicked his tongue.

You kept your bag down and followed his protocol, opening the shirt to keep inside his drawer near which he was sitting on his chair. "Y/N open the shoes, come here and sit on the table in front of me." You took small steps and sat on the table facing him.

He kept your feet covered in socks on his thighs and spread your legs apart, you weren't even surprised anymore. "Hmm now the paper you've given in carries a lot of mistakes, we need to fix them, right darling?" Did you see this coming? Yes. Did you see the new nickname coming? No.

Your eyes flickered to your answer sheet which was covered in red all over, but you didn't do that bad if you recalled.

He opened your skirt and then slid down your panties, at this pointed you allowed him whatever the hell he was doing.

But to your surprise, he opened his drawer and brought out a black whiteboard marker and opened the lid with his teeth. He leaned in closer to your vagina and then took the marker to mark on your body part, "this is labia majora. "

You gasped, what in the actual fuck? Then he spread open your opening with his other hand, "this is labia minora. " He said as he looked up at your bewildered expression.

Then he kept the marker aside and tickled your another part with his middle finger, making your thighs trying to get close. "That's hymen."

Then he leaned in and ran his tongue all across another part, you clenched the edges of the table, "That's clitoris."

He then stood up and opened his shirt, unbuckled his pants and opened his underwear as well. "Come sit here Y/N", he gestured at the spot in front of him where he was standing, you gulped as you stood up with your wavy legs and went to sit down where he told you to, "Now look up!"

Fuck! He adjusted closer and now you were sitting right beneath his dick, which was already erected.

He began, "This is penis, now I will tell you the parts then when I ask you the questions, make sure you answer right because if you get the question wrong even once, you know the consequences better." His gaze darkened.

He took the marker and opened its cap once again, "this is the glans penis, this goes urethra, now the parts inside are epididymis which is...." He went on and on, rather quickly for your hazy brain to catch up.

"Alright we are good, now one right answer earns one kiss on my penis but the moment you can't give the right answer, you will face your punishment." His lustful gaze hovered over you as you were sitting there like a beautiful fairy you were, the floor already getting wet with your pre-cum, oh he couldn't wait for you to give a wrong answer.

To his surprise, rather to your own surprise as well, you were actually giving correct answers, not like he would complain when he saw you give him kisses on his dick, he seriously loved it infact, your soft plump lips, no he needed to kiss them himself.. right.. Now!

So on purpose he asked you a difficult question, your eyes went wide, "sir you never explained that?" His lips threatening to form a smirk, "no sweetheart, if you paid enough attention in your class you would have certainly gotten the answer correct. Now... prepare for your punishment."

You felt your brain switch off itself, you were terrified at what was coming, "Alright stand up!" As soon as you stood up, he pressed you to the nearest wall as he harshly kissed your lips while both of his hands working to open your bra.

When they fell down he used the opportunity to grab your boobs and thrust his penis inside your vagina. He kept playing with your nipples like turning a switch on and off.

You felt hot in your stomach and your spine getting those electric shocks running down. He detached his lips after biting at one corner of your lower lip then he moved on to the neck. "Soon we will be doing this on our bed baby" He said and once again got back to biting your neck.

Our bed? "O-our bed sir?" You were losing it, literally. "Yes baby, we will marry each other. Also call me Jungkook from now on my love, we will be husband and wife soon!"

The fawk he was saying?

Your nails dig on his hair as he pulled you up against the wall, he sucked on your pussy, "Yeah I will become the CEO of Jeon Pharmaceuticals two months later and your father had agreed to marry his daughter to me." He smiled wide, "No one can separate us Y/N baby."

"W-wait! CEO? Then w-why are you tea-teaching?" You managed to ask him between your moans and whimpers.

He chuckled, "I came here to experience a tough and challenging environment, what place would be better than a high school for that, oh and also to see my future wife as well." What the hell? Why did you never knew about your marriage- wait a damn minute, was he the one your father was talking about marrying to your sister?

Bad enough, because Jungkook thought that daughter would be you.

And you both thought that you were alone in the school so he didn't even bother to close the door. You were wrong, someone did witness both of your activity the entire time- Jungkook's stepbrother Taehyung.

Hmm.. thinking to make a part 2 perhaps? Do give me motivation for that if u want, which is by giving *cough* feedback *cough* (pls) 🥺💖

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heroes-among-us-all · 1 year

Note

hello! could i request for hcs where bakugo has a clingy babbly girl who always bugs him by following him around (bonus points: THEY'RE NEIGHBORS) and says she loves him all the time but he always just scoffs and ignores her then one time she ends up giving up or getting hurt and ends up distancing herself in the process and he starts to seek her out oMg you can take it from there IM JUST SO HAPPY YOUR ASK BOX IS OPEN YOURE MY FAVE BNHA IMAGINE BLOG AHH

I made this into a scenario instead of headcanons. Hope that's ok!

From the moment you moved into the house across from his, you'd already decided that you would stick to Katsuki like glue.

You just couldn't help it. After all, he stood out from the rest (even if it was in a bad way at times), which made it almost impossible for you to keep your eyes off him. He was headstrong and brave, not to mention incredibly attractive. Before you'd realized it, you were crushing on him hard.

But being the kind of person that you were, it didn't occur to you to try and hide your feelings. Instead, you clung to his side and made sure to seek him out at every available opportunity. You were incredibly thankful to have made it into U.A, because it allowed you to see him during class as well.

At the beginning, Katsuki thought you would give up and get bored of pestering him after a while. He clearly didn't seem to realize just how strongly you felt about him.

No matter how often he scoffed at you or told you to get lost, you were still right there, grinning at him ear-to-ear.

"I love you, Katsuki!"

Words that the average person struggled to say fell from your lips without so much as a second thought. The first time Katsuki had heard you say you loved him, his eyes had gone wider than ever. He even wondered if you were just playing a prank on him or something.

She's such an idiot, he thought. She doesn't even mean that. It's so dumb.

He'd long since convinced himself that you were just some ditzy girl without a serious bone in your body. That was why, even when you kept on insisting that you loved him - more than anything, as you so often stressed - Katsuki didn't take it to heart. He never stopped to actually consider that you were telling him the honest and unfiltered truth.

Until the day you got upset with him.

"Quit it with that sappy shit," he snapped. "I'm tired of hearing you spew the same garbage all the time."

It was just like any another day. You were clinging onto his arm and gushing about how much you loved him. As much as Katsuki wanted to say that he'd gotten to used to this by now, the truth was that he hadn't. Every time you hugged him or got extra close and said those kinds of things, he could feel his chest getting tight and his cheeks burning. Even if you were just running your mouth without meaning what you said, it was still embarrassing as all hell. And despite what most people probably thought, he did get flustered.

That was why he lashed out at you. He was fed up with being the only one to get worked up while you said all that stuff without even batting an eye. It wasn't like he actually disliked you or anything. Far from it, in fact. Even if he wouldn't admit it, you were the person he considered closest to him.

Perhaps that's why he felt comfortable speaking brashly. He'd always done it until now; why should today be any different?

Needless to say, dejection was quick to sweep across your face. You looked weary all of a sudden. You weren't smiling the way you usually did.

"Okay," you said softly. "I'm sorry. I just thought... I don't know. But I'm sorry. I should've taken the hint by now."

From that day onward, you didn't say a single word to him. You breezed past him in the hallways without so much as glancing his way. You didn't bother asking to walk home with him the way you usually did. Even when your parents came over to hang out at Katsuki's place - since your families were on good terms - you didn't come along with them. You purposefully stayed home, as if you no longer wanted anything to do with him. You were avoiding him. Did you not like him all of a sudden, or what the fuck?

Katsuki had always been stubborn, even as a child, so it took him a while to come to terms with the fact that he missed having you around. He missed having you cling to him and smile like you didn't have a single worry in the world. He missed seeing your cute face and feeling your arms wrap him in a hug.

Katsuki had liked you back for a while, but he was just too hardheaded to see it.

After finally coming to the realization that having you around was something he wanted, Katsuki did what he'd never done before and sought you out himself.

He managed to corner you during lunch, in the cafeteria, so that you couldn't try and pull a fast one on him. As expected, you refused to so much as meet eyes with him, but when Katsuki put his mind to something, he couldn't be deterred.

"You're done ignoring me," he frowned, grabbing you by the hand. Even though you tried to protest, he held on tight. "I need to talk to you. Aren't you going to hear me out?"

Katsuki didn't even realize it, but his gaze was nowhere near as confident and assured as it usually was. In fact, it was almost as if his eyes were pleading for you to stay. He really, really wanted you to stay with him.

Luckily, you'd always been the better person. Certainly a better person he was.

You nodded slowly. "Alright. Let's talk."

Relief couldn't even begin to express what Katsuki felt. For a moment, he thought he might faint from the stress. He was worried that you were seriously done with him for good. But you were giving him another chance, and this time, he wasn't going to screw it up.

Katsuki gripped your hand as tightly as he could while the two of you walked out of the cafeteria together. His eyes scanned the surrounding area, searching for someplace quiet and secluded. Confessing his feelings was actually a much more frightening thought than he would've liked to admit, but you were special to him. For you, he could set aside his petty pride.

After all, you were worth it.

#bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #bnha #bnha imagines #my hero academia #mha imagines #my hero academia imagines #bnha headcanons #fluff #katsuki x reader #boku no hero academia #bnha x reader #mha x reader #boku no hero imagines

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kaimxri · 1 year

Text

Means To an End (pt III)

Lucien x Reader (she/her)

Part I Part II

Warnings: none????

Wordcount: 3K (consistency babyyyy)

A/N: I saw a tiktok this morning of Az and now it is time for him to make ammends:) he needs to go back into the good books i think! also, sorry if this seems a bit rushed! i had a headache from Y/N's pov onwards so...... but i hope you enjoy nevertheless!

Azriel

The sound of the door slamming wakes me from my slumber. My shadows brush against me, whispers of ‘gone’ ‘what did you do’ and ‘messed up’ scratch against my ear, dragging me to my senses. I raise up to a seated position and notice there is a change in atmosphere. Something feels wrong.

I grab truth-teller from my nightstand and sneak from my chambers. No unusual or suspicious sounds reach my ear, nor do my shadows report any misplaced signs of intrusion. I keep my heckles raised despite the evidence pointing to my family not being in harm’s way. The stairs barely make a sound underneath my silent footfall. Years upon years of practice perfecting my gait, keeping me hidden amongst the shadows. There are still no signs of harm in the downstairs area. I relax my stance, until my shadows report back to me.

‘Table’

‘Letter’

‘Front door’

I listen to my shadows and head for where they directed me. Just as they had said, there was a letter sitting by the door. Recognising the handwriting to be Y/N’s, my brow furrows as my hand reaches for the paper. As my eyes glance at the writing, I am filled with confusion.

‘Inner Circle,

I am writing to inform you all that I am leaving to another court. Please, do not look for me. I am safe and cared for.

I am sure you all know why I am leaving, and if you do not know then that is down to you. This break is what I need to build myself up and get a handle on my emotions. I am unsure as to whether this move will be a permanent one.

I will be in contact when I am ready.

Thank you for everything,

Y/N’

She has left? I had not noticed anything different about her in the past few weeks that showed she was in pain. Moments from the times we shared together came rushing through my mind. I spend a while scouring through each image, trying to decipher her emotions. But nothing comes through. My self-investigation is broken by Elain’s voice.

“Did you hear, Azriel?” Her smile shows whatever she had to tell me had made her ecstatic.

“Yes, I just saw. Y/N is go-“

“Lucien rejected the bon-“

We speak over each other. Lucien had rejected the bond? Why would he do such a thing… He loved Elain a lot. This morning is just filled with confusion.

“Of course she’s gone,” Elain scoffs, “She had to take my mate just because the man she loves would rather spend his time with me. It is not my fault that she does not put herself out there. Gods, I knew when Lucien broke the bond that he was not thinking clearly. Now I know his thoughts were clouded with that… female.”

“Wait, what do you mean the man she loves?”

“You, of course,” She looks at me with confusion, “Please do not tell me you have not seen her pining after you for nearly a year now? Gods Azriel, she was not exactly subtle. But she doesn’t matter anymore, nor does Lucien! Sure, they may have run off together but at least we now have the chance to try with each other. That I am grateful for.”

My mind runs with all the information being thrown at me. I am still clutching onto Y/N’s letter in a tight fist. Looking down at the paper for a moment, realisation rushes over me.

“She loved me, and she’s run away with Lucien? This does not make sense Elain. Why would she not talk to me in the first place?”

“Please do not tell me you are truly this dull, Azriel. We clearly like each other, do we not? She obviously realised that you did not return her feelings and let them fester. She should have just taken her frustrations out on some other male... Well I guess in a way she has, right? On my mate of all people.”

Elain’s words shock me. How could anyone speak so callously about another. Of course, I have feelings for Elain. How could I not? But my heart has been split in two since the moment she was made by the cauldron. Y/N had made it very clear that our arrangement was strictly physical. Perhaps my avoidance of her is what pushed her away, but I only did so to spare my own heart from being broken by the female who has held my affections for years.

Suddenly I am filled with guilt on how I treated Y/N on nights we spent together. Calling another’s name, leaving her before our hearts had chance to rest and acting as if she meant nothing to me. When she meant everything. If I had known of her feelings for me, this would never have happened. She would be here.

“We must find her. I return her feelings, Elain. Of course, I have feelings for you. But they do not compare to those I have for Y/N. Please, Elain. Help me find them. Maybe there is still a chance for yourself and Lucien? There is nothing like the soul-twined bond, and I cannot give that to you.”

She looks at me confused, as if I had just spoken pure gibberish. Oh gods, what have I done? Who have I become? I do not wish to hurt anyone, but it seems too late for that. I need to make amends.

“Do not be ridiculous. What I feel for you does not compare to the feelings I have for Lucien either Azriel. Why should I give you up only to suffer in a loveless mating bond?”

“Because Lucien has made himself suffer for you, no? He gave you what you wanted. Him to give you what you think would make you truly happy. Are you, Elain? Are you truly happy? Because I am not. I cannot help but to think of what would happen if we were together. This is just passing infatuation. I have loved Y/N for years, can you not see? Lucien loved you, and you did not give him the time of day. He is an honourable male, if you just gave him a chance you would see.”

Panic begins to raise in my chest. Sweat beads on my forehead as my hands begin to tremble. Needing to let out my nervous energy, I begin to pace back and forth. Bringing my hands up to tug at my hair, the sight of Y/N’s note sends more panic through my being. She’s gone. She’s truly gone. And it is my fault.

“No, Azriel. I cannot see. I am happy with my situation, and I am happy with you. Let’s just try, see what we make of ourselves? Together.”

“Oh, give it a rest Elain,” I all but scream at her, “I am not going to be yours. I’ve fucked up. There will be no us. Even if I cannot bring Y/N back, I will not be moving forward with you. I am a selfish male who only hurts those around him.” Sobs wrack through my body, rendering my speech broken, “I am but nothing but what others see. I hurt people, even when I am not trying.”

“That is simply not tru-“

“Then why is she not here, Elain?” I throw the letter at her chest, “Do not speak to me for a while.”

Lucien

I leave Y/N alone for the night. My actions scared her, brought her back to the memories she came to bury. Blame lies solely with me. I was overtaken by my emerging feelings for her that I did not stop to consider how she feels at this moment. Despite my newly developing feelings for the beautiful woman, it is too early for her and myself to act on any hidden desires either of us hold. Although I am sure my feelings for her are true and not rebounded feelings from my rejected mate.

When the sun arises, so do I. My sleep was restless, and my eyes feel heavy, but the need to explain myself outweighed anything else. It was not as if I could remain resting when the sight of Y/N’s eyes swimming with tears clouded my mind every time I shut my own. Without stopping to change out of my sleeping clothes, I move over to Y/N’s side of the living area. My hand hovers over her door for a few minutes, considering what I was going to say. I don’t have a chance to think for much longer as Y/N swings her door open by herself. My anxiety alleviates slightly at the sight of her teasing smirk.

“I could hear your inner turmoil through the door, Lucien.”

“You are very humorous in the morning, Y/N. Tell me, how long were you sitting on that line for?”

“Since I heard you tossing and turning all the way over in your bedroom. Whatever you wish to say, forget it. We can forget what happened last night, it is alright.”

“But it is not alright. I am very sorry for my actions. I’m not quite sure what came over me. I was just confused and there were a lot of emotions. But, Y/N, trust me when I say I was not thinking of Elain in that moment,” I take a deep breathe to steady my words, “I seem to have come across some… underlying feelings for you. Now that I no longer have the cloud of the bond blurring my vision, it seems they have decided now to come to the surface. But I am not going to act on them as neither of us are ready for romance at the moment. I wish to remain your friend; I wish to be there for you when it all gets too much. I wish for you to trust me.”

Y/N seems taken aback by my admission. As if she did not think I would admit that my emotions were fuelled by passion for her, not Elain.

“Lucien, of course I trust you. You will always be my friend too. It was just a bit of an overwhelming day, I understand.” Her forgiveness makes me feel lighter, like the burden of this incident were physically weighing me down. “But you are not going to act on your feelings? That is a shame. Though, you are right. It is too soon for us to explore any other relationships. I will see you at breakfast, Luc.”

“Now, hold on. Don’t close that door again. Would you like me to act on my feelings some day?”

“I wouldn’t say no.”

Y/N

I close the door on Lucien’s shocked face. Perhaps I was being too forward, but why should I hold back on flirting a bit? Even if I am not yet ready for a relationship at the moment, there is no harm in flirting with a handsome male. Let alone one that admits to having feelings towards me.

Oh my gods, someone has feelings for me.

A grin spreads across my face. I had never considered Lucien to be a romantic partner. Now that I have been presented with his own emotions, it seems that I have yet to discover what hides underneath my own sheltered feelings. Especially now that I am not being clouded with thoughts of the shadow singer.

Breakfast that morning is delightful. Lucien and I decided to spend the day in the village that surrounds the palace. Helion had said he would have loved to have joined us, but alas the High Lord’s duties stole him from our presence.

I meet Lucien in the grand foyer. He looks incredibly dazzling in a white shirt and a green vest. His wild red hair has been tamed into a singular braid stretching down his back. Our eyes meet as he quirks a brow.

“Going somewhere, my lady?”

“Ah yes, my lord. I am to visit the nearby village.”

“Shall I accompany you my dear?”

“If you must.”

We share a giggle at our easy rapport.

Lucien and I are too invested in our conversation that we fail to notice the village grow closer. Although we are good friends, I had not yet noticed how truly easy he is to talk to. I had known him since his stay at The Spring Court. Being the previous emissary to The Night Court, I made it a point o get to know the others that serve as messengers for the other courts. Out of all the other emissaries, Lucien was the only one to become a friend. It was only with the burden of unrequited love that we began to drift apart.

We walk together down through the lanes of the quaint village. Glancing at all the stores lining the streets. There are many art stores, reminding me of my friend Feyre. I did feel bad for leaving without more of an explanation, but I knew if I had said anything more my friends would try to hold me back from leaving.

Our strolling comes to a brief pause as we reach a jewellery store. A deep blue gem glaring back at me through the window.

“How are you holding up?” Lucien asks me, breaking our comfortable silence.

“A lot better than I thought I would be,” I respond truthfully, “I almost think that being in his presence was making my feelings stronger than they originally were. Sure, I still have some semblance of love for Azriel. But it is not the very thing that powers my body anymore. I feel like I am no longer under cupid’s control. And yourself?”

“That is good to hear. I am partly the same. The more I think of Elain, the less I think I truly loved her. If it weren’t for the bond, I would not have looked at her as more of a friend. It feels like my emotions were crafted. Like they weren’t truly mine. This break will be good for us, but I must ask. Do you see this as a permanent solution?”

His question leaves me stumped. I hadn’t thought about the length of my stay in The Day Court. Though with every passing minute that I spend here, the more I’m certain that this is where I wish to be.

“Well, I guess I will see how I feel in a few months’ time. Helion has been gracious enough to extend this visit for as long as we wish, but I would hate to take advantage of our friend. Though, if I am to stay for a while, I should probably look for a job here. I would hate to take advantage of such a kind man. How long would you like to stay?”

“I am sure Helion would hate to think you feel as if you are taking advantage of him. I’ve not spent much time with him, but I can already see his friends mean a lot to him. He very likely enjoys your company here too. I have also been thinking about how long I would like to stay. I believe that depends on what I find out about how, or if, I am related to Helion.”

“Ah, so you have heard the rumours then?”

“Of course. They are hard to ignore. I could always see how different I was from my brothers. They all treated me like a stranger because of our differences. Although, not Eris. He is not like the others describe him. He has his reasons for how he treated Morrigan. But that is besides the point. I wish to explore the relationship between Helion and my mother as well. I guess if it turns out I am Helion’s son, I shall be staying… if he will have me.”

“He will have you, Lucien. I just know it. He already loves you, son or not. Come, let us head back to the palace. Maybe we can ask around and see what we find out?”

Leaving the jewellery store behind, we head back to the palace. On our journey back we notice more than we did on the way there. The cute little stone schoolyard is the first to steal our attention. Squeals of delight and playful giggling make my heart feel lighter.

A little boy and a little girl rush past us. They were holding hands, shouting ‘I love you!’ to each other. Lucien and I share a shy glance before continuing our journey back home.

The palace is empty when we arrive, ruining our plans to investigate the rumours on Lucien’s parentage. Helion was not set to arrive back home until the evening, so we decide to spend the remaining few hours reading yet again. If this what a life free of Azriel looks like, then I have truly been missing out.

“I am going to change into something more comfortable. This dress, although pretty, is dangerously tight!”

“Aw did you get dressed up for me dear Y/N? How sweet.” Lucien teases. We stay in our comfortable silence for a while more, simply admiring the other. How had I truly missed out on how beautiful this male was? I must have been completely blinded by my own infatuation.

It is hard not to miss the look in Lucien’s eyes. That of longing, happiness and something else. I think back on the day we shared, when I am struck by a question that I had stuck in my head since I met Lucien at the door this morning.

“Was this a date Lucien?”

“Perhaps it was?”

“Then maybe you should walk me to my door?”

“I would love nothing more”.

He guides me up the golden stairs, down the winding hallway, through our warm shared space and to my own large doors. Our positioning reminds me of the night before. Of our heartfelt talk that led to Lucien kissing me…

“Are you going to kiss me again, Lucien?”

“Do you want me to kiss you?”

“Maybe on our second date?”

“Ah, so this was a date then.”

“I’ll see you later, Lucien.”

I leave him with a flirtatious smile. I hadn’t felt like this since I first stated to sleep with Azr- No. I will not compare how I feel for Lucien to how I felt with Azriel.

This is new. This is real.

#acotar #acotar x reader #lucien x reader #lucien vanserra x reader #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #lucien acotar #acotar fanfic #acotar fanfiction #a court of thorns and roses #shadowsinger x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fanfic #lucien fanfic #acotar fluff #acotar angst #vanserra

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latanyalove · 7 months

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𝐒𝐞𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐋𝐢𝐞𝐬 || 𝐋𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐲

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Chapter 1: New Island Discovery

Words: 2K+

Part 2

Deep inside the sea, the Straw Hat Pirates found themselves in a disheartening situation. Having just completed a fierce battle with the formidable boss of the previous island, they now floated aimlessly in an empty expanse of water. Time seemed to stretch on endlessly, as if days had melded into one another without distinction.

The Log Pose, a navigational device attached to Nami's wrist, provided them with direction and hope. However, to their dismay, the needle on the Log Pose was now spinning erratically, pointing at nothing in particular. It was as if the very essence of their purpose had been lost in the vastness of the sea.

The crew gathered on the deck of the Thousand Sunny, their expressions reflecting a mixture of frustration, exhaustion, and uncertainty.

The lack of a clear destination weighed heavily on their minds, casting a shadow over their once unwavering resolve. Each member of the crew sought solace in their own thoughts, contemplating the situation at hand.

Luffy, the captain with a heart as big as the ocean itself, clenched his fists, determination burning in his eyes.

He refused to let their current predicament dampen their spirits. With a resolute voice, he declared, "We may be lost, but as long as we're together, we'll find our way!"

His words served as a rallying cry for the crew, reigniting the flames of hope within them. They knew that their strength lay not just in their individual abilities, but in their unity and unwavering belief in one another. They had overcome countless challenges before, and this would be no exception.

As the Straw Hat Pirates sailed onward, their hearts filled with a renewed sense of purpose. They embraced the unknown, ready to face whatever trials lay ahead. With each passing moment, they grew closer as a family, their bonds strengthening amidst the uncertainty of their journey.

After what seemed like an eternity, the Log Pose suddenly began to move, pointing towards a mysterious destination. Luffy and the crew looked at each other in surprise, realizing that their fortunes had finally changed.

With newfound hope, they set sail towards the unknown, ready to meet whatever awaited them.

As the Thousand Sunny sailed through the open sea, they suddenly felt a slight tremor beneath the waves. They soon realized that they had passed through an invisible barrier, and beyond it, they could see a vast and bustling city.

They had stumbled upon a secret paradise, hidden away in the depths of the ocean. They could not believe their eyes - a place of wonder and beauty, hidden away from the world. The crew was awestruck, their excitement palpable.

They had found something special, something that was meant for only them to see. They were eager to explore the mysteries that lay ahead, and so, with a newfound sense of purpose, they sailed into the unknown.

"Luffy," Nami calls him as Luffy sits on the thousand sunny's head and turned around with a smile, his eyes glowing with excitement and a sense of adventure.

She didn't wait for him to answer as she continued, "You know what the villagers said about the next island we come across? They said it's a place full of mysteries and danger, so I think we should be extra careful."

Nami knew that nothing would get through Luffy's thick skull, but she still wanted to make sure he was aware of the danger they may face. She knew he had a tendency to rush into things without thinking, and she wanted to make sure he was prepared.

Luffy was mesmerized by the sight of the island, his eyes filled with awe and wonder. He could feel the excitement of adventure coursing through his veins, and he was eager to explore.

He didn't even seem to register Nami's warning, his gaze firmly fixed on the island ahead of him. With a newfound sense of purpose, he stood up and shouted, "Let's go!" as he stood on the Thousand Sunny, eager for this mystery island and its secrets. . . .

"Listen up!" Nami shouted as the ship made it to the dock on the island in order to explain how they would be spending their time. "Me and Robin will go shopping with Chopper, Zoro and Sanji will get supplies, and Franky will fix the ship with Usopp and Brook."

Everyone except for Zoro and Sanji were not happy with the plan. They shouted that they could get the supplies themselves and didn't need the help of the others.

This resulted in them arguing loudly, with Zoro and Sanji both trying to get their way. Eventually, the argument escalated into a physical altercation, with the clashing of swords and legs in the background as Zoro and Sanji, fueled by their stubbornness, fought each other to prove their point.

The other crew members watched the fight with amusement, shaking their heads at the two stubborn men but not intervening.

"Then what about me?" asked Luffy during the commotion.

"You'll be going on a little adventure of your own," Nami said with a smile. "You can explore the island and see what you can find. Just be careful and stay out of trouble, okay?"

Luffy nodded, a grin spreading across his face as he imagined what secrets he could uncover on the island.

He watched as his crewmates dispersed, each one of them ready to start their respective tasks. He could feel the anticipation building inside him as he was the only one left on the dock.

With a newfound sense of purpose, he set off on his own, ready to explore the mysteries of the island and uncover its secrets.

He had been exploring the island for the past half hour, but so far had found nothing that could be considered secretive or mysterious. He was about to give up and return to the dock when he heard yelling from a distance. Intrigued, he headed towards it, determined to find out what was the commotion about.

He had nothing to do anyway.

"Zara! You need to listen to what we have to say!"

"Is there any reason that I should listen to some ruthless pirates?"

Luffy had stumbled across a fight between three pirates and a marine. The marine, named Zara, was standing her ground and refusing to listen to the pleas of the pirates.

It seemed like they were trying to convince her of something, but she wasn't budging. Luffy stood at a distance, watching the fight with curiosity. He was eager to find out what the pirates wanted, and why the marine was so stubborn.

"You don't know what you are getting into when you come to this island," another pirate said with disdain.

"No, you don't know what you're getting into when you come to this island and come for me," Zara warned. "I can take care of myself, so I suggest you back off now before things get really ugly." She glared at the pirates, her eyes full of determination.

The three pirates looked at each other before they all rushed forward, their swords drawn and ready to attack Zara. Luffy watched in shock as the three of them advanced, their weapons glinting in the sunlight.

He quickly realized he had to do something, and his heart raced as he prepared to jump into the fray.

But he stopped in his tracks. Before he could move, he watched in amazement as the marine had somehow brought a sword out of thin air and had sliced the pirates, making them unconscious in a few seconds.

Luffy was astonished. He had never seen anything like it before.

When he realized two brown eyes were staring straight at him from below, he felt his cheeks grow red. He quickly averted his gaze, feeling embarrassed that he had been caught watching the fight.

He was about to ask the marine how she had done it, but she had already sheathed her sword back into thin air and was walking away, dragging the three unconscious pirates behind her.

Luffy watched her go, leaving him with more questions than answers.

All he knew was that she had to join his crew! He needed to know how she had defeated the three pirates so easily, and he was determined to find out.

He had to have her on his side.

He quickly made up his mind and followed her, trailing a safe distance behind. He followed her to the Marine base, where he watched her drop off the prisoners.

Then he followed her to the bakery, where she bought some bread before heading to the abandoned side of the village. Luffy kept his distance, but he was determined to find out what she was up to.

He was intrigued by her and her mysterious fighting skills, and he wanted to know more.

When Zara entered one of the houses, Luffy quickly scrambled up the side of the building and crouched on the roof, peering into the dark interior of the house through the broken roof with holes.

He could just make out Zara's silhouette inside, but he couldn't hear what she was saying.

When the light from the setting sun shone through the window, Luffy could see that Zara was sitting on a chair with her eyes closed, her hands clasped together in her lap. She seemed to be deep in thought, her expression peaceful and her breathing steady.

Luffy watched her intently, wondering what she was thinking about.

Zara had brown skin and curly black hair that was pulled back in a low ponytail. She wore a crisp white Marine uniform that set her apart from the other people in the village, and she had a long sword sheathed at her side.

Her face was expressionless and her eyes were a deep brown, almost black in color.

Luffy was so lost in his thoughts that he hadn't noticed that Zara had opened her eyes and was now staring at him through the window. He felt his cheeks flush as he realized he had been caught again.

"Monkey D Luffy," She mentioned, "Are you going to keep staring at me like a creep or are you going to get down from there?"

Luffy quickly scrambled off the roof, embarrassed but determined to find out more about Zara and her mysterious fighting skills.

He slid through the window and stood in front of Zara, checking if his hat was okay. She seemed a bit surprised but didn't seem angry.

"What do you want?" She asked straightforwardly.

Luffy looked up at Zara, a determined expression on his face. "I want you to join my crew," he said simply. "I've seen your fighting skills and I think you'd make a valuable addition to my crew. What do you say?

Zara looked at Luffy for a few moments before she started to laugh. "You're serious, aren't you?" she said, shaking her head.

"You really think I would join your crew?" Luffy nodded, a determined expression on his face.

"Why not? I think you'd make a great addition to my crew and I'm sure you have a lot to offer." He paused and smiled. "What do you say? Will you join us?"

She shook her head, her face suddenly serious. "You know that's impossible," she said. "I'm a Marine and you're a pirate. We are sworn enemies and there is no way I could ever join your crew."

Luffy then said, "Then arrest me. If you won't join the crew, then arrest me and take me away. I'm sure you can come up with a good reason."

Zara was taken aback by his statement. She hadn't expected him to say such a thing and wasn't sure how to respond.

He smiled again, this time with a little more determination. "I'll wait in prison for you," he said, placing his hat on her head and holding his hands out in front of him in a gesture of surrender.

"I'm sure you'll come around eventually and join my crew."

Zara was taken aback by his statement. She hadn't expected him to say such a thing and wasn't sure how to respond. She hesitated for a few moments, then quickly recovered and moved forward to arrest him.

She grabbed his hands and put them in the handcuffs, then led him away.

Despite her best efforts to remain discreet, the villagers quickly found out that Luffy had been taken away by a Marine. They started to gather around the prison, curious to find out what was happening and how a Marine had managed to arrest a pirate that was so strong and ruthless to have over a million for a bounty. . . .

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

If you want to read more, the rest of the story is on Wattpad! My username is Enkai_Umino!

Sorry if this Luffy sounds a little out of character! This is my first time writing about One Piece characters so sorry they might not act like themselves! Please give some constructive criticism as well!

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silens-oro · 1 year

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Spoils of War: 2. The Great Division

Aemond Targaryen x F!Targaryen!Reader

Spoils of War Masterlist

Masterlist

Synopsis: Every action has a reaction. The Reader sees a less than desirable side to Aemond. She gets some (manipulative) council. The wheels fall off the proverbial wagon.

Word Count: ~4,072

Warning: 18+. Targaryen uncle/niece incest (lite, nothing truly weird other than they are both Targaryens), heavy angst, blood, injury, manipulation.

AN: Thank you all so much for the positive feedback regarding the first chapter! From this chapter onward, the wheels are falling off this badboy! We're getting stranded in miseryville! It's alllllllll downhill.

**This series is inspired by Muse's Absolution album. Give it a listen!**

Likes, reblogs, and comments are highly appreciated.

You wished you weren’t right sometimes -like you were at this very moment. The tension had only seemed to rise as toasts were said around the table. Up until this point, your brothers had kept to their word of being on their best behavior. They ignored their uncles for the most part, even as those uncles tried to jab at them with vicious and salacious words. You were proud of them for holding their tongues as you knew neither would’ve done it had they not sworn to it. Alas, there was only so much jabbing one could take when it wasn’t intentionally made in jest but out of maliciousness.

As each offspring stood to say their piece, every person around the table waited on bated breath at the next words to tumble out in prettily-laced spite. Your foot shook nervously under the table as Jace stood along with Aemond. Jace spoke first, still keeping to his word he gave you. It was also for your mother's sake too, you were sure. He was dignified as he extended multiple branches to the family at the other end of the table. Your mother looked proud. Your eyes met Aemond’s over the cacophony of candles and food, and you pleaded with him silently to not speak. Please, you begged in your mind, do not make this worse.

As Jace finished his toast, your family’s side of the table raised their glasses along with the Queen. Your eyes remained locked on Aemond’s until he merely sat back into his chair without a word.

Daemon, ever observant, looked between his nephew and yourself when he felt your shaking foot stop. You closed your eyes as you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. When you opened them, your father was staring at you with a brow raised. The look held the promise of a later conversation, but for now, he’d leave it be.

The King demanded music to cut the tension and Jace, once again, extended his friendliness to the other half of the royal family by offering to dance with Helaena -who agreed wholeheartedly. The King himself did not last much longer and was carted off to rest almost as soon as the music started.

You signaled the cupbearer to refill your wine with a twitch of your hand. As she refilled it, you lost count of how many you had at that point, but you were only just beginning to feel the effects of the sweet wine through the stress.

The night seemed to be leveling itself out, and you had thought that maybe the worst was over. The climax had happened and you -as well as the rest of your family- had gotten through it unscathed. A scoff and giggle to your left from Luke caught your attention. Your eyes followed what caught his eye, and yours widened.

A roasted pig had been laid before Aemond and your previous mention of the Pink Dread made you wince externally. You immediately pinched Luke’s leg from under the table to stop him before he escalated anything.

“Do not,” You warned through tight lips. Sparing a look at Aemond, he seemed to let it go once you had reprimanded the boy, but when Luke ignored you entirely and giggled once more knowing he had Aemond's attention. He did not count on his uncle doing anything about it.

Aemond slammed his fist onto the table and stood. You jumped in your chair with the sudden noise. The music stopped immediately and silence overtook the hall. You held your breath, eyes shifting between Aemond and your brother.

Dread encompassed your entire body as your false sense of security melted away. It felt as if your blood had been drained from you as you heard the words of Aemond's final tribute flow so freely from his lips.

You were left out of his quips about Strong heritage, for obvious Targaryen featured reasons, but the words still hurt you to your core. You looked over to your father who watched along with that look once more. He was entertained by this nonsense as he drank his wine. The Queen tried to silence her son, but he kept speaking under the guise of just how proud he was of his family, just to rile your brothers up into a frenzy. It was like blood in the water of a shark infested lagoon.

The sheer degradation that fell from Aemond's lips stunned you.

Jace left Helaena on the dance floor and took purposeful strides back to the table, ever vigilant in defending your mother’s virtue regardless of the true validity of Aemond’s words. Seeing this as a challenge met, Aemond moved towards Jace. Luke stood as well to jump in, but Aegon immediately shoved his face into a plate of food on the table to humiliate and subdue him.

Your body did not feel as if it was your own when you stood, much to the surprise of your father. He did not move to stop you, though your mother had shouted to not get involved and tried to reach over Daemon to grab you. Just as you did when you were a child, you slithered out of her grasp before she could catch you.

Baela and Rhaena were against the back wall, Baela holding Rhaena from intervening in the pair you had your sights on.

You tried to pull Aegon from Luke to get between them. Food and drink flew from the table. Cutlery and plates clashed to the floor in the struggle. In the flailing of three sets of arms, you nearly had Aegon off of your brother when Aegon's elbow pulled back sharply and hit you square in the face. White hot pain flashed over your eyes as you dropped to the floor within a second, blood gushing from your nose and mouth in a torrent of red.

Baela screamed from behind you at the sight and Aegon looked down to where you fell in shock. Luke took that moment as an opportunity to push the Prince off of him and before he could get his own hit in for maiming his sister, a King’s Guard grabbed his raised arm and pulled him away. Jace, after hearing the scream of his betrothed, abandoned Aemond to charge after the eldest Prince, but was held back by a guard as well.

Rhaena and Baela both dropped to you after pulling cloths free of the table to hold to your face as Aegon scurried back to his family’s side of the room. Every face turned to where you lay sprawled on the floor, yet no one else moved a muscle. Aemond, himself, was horrified but his mind could not will his body to run to you. Not when all of the eyes of the room shifted from you to himself and Aegon.

You did not catch the horrified look from the Queen as she bore witness to the chaos, but when she saw you go down, she could do nothing but watch on in terror, not daring to think of what the outcome of this would be for your fractured families.

Guards continued their hold of your flailing brothers and your mother did not know which child to turn to in order to see you all to safety.

Your choking and sputtering was the only sound in the room, other than the grunts your brothers gave as they tried to break free. Blood poured steadily down your throat, the taste of it turning your stomach something fierce. Your vision did not clear for a few moments, your brain absolutely stunned by the hit.

Your mother held her rounded stomach in stress as she looked down at you splayed on the floor -spitting out your own blood, horrified and absolutely helpless to do anything. You did not know what had been exchanged between the men as the table blocked your view, but when your father kneeled down beside you his face held deep regret.

Daemon pulled you to your feet gently without a word and wrapped an arm around your shoulder to lead you to Jace. The guards let both of your brothers free at his nod, your father giving the boys a silent warning to not act out any further. It did not stop them from glaring daggers across the room to their uncles.

Jace wrapped your arm around his waist and held the bloody cloth to your face as he escorted you from the hall. Your blurry eyes caught Aemond in a silent stand off with your father before the scene cut from your vision as you rounded a corner.

Luke, Baela, and Rhaena followed silently behind.

Your head felt like it was being crushed under a dragon’s foot as you rode through King’s Landing via horseback with your family to prepare for your departure. Your riding clothes felt uncomfortable, rubbing every which way the wrong way. They were no different than they normally were, but you were in pain and you were irritable.

The mood was smothering, just as your head felt. Your nose was definitely broken, as confirmed by the Grandmaester the previous night. He straightened it as much as he could through your screams and tears of pain, and packed your nostrils with cotton to stem the bleeding. Deep butterfly winged bruising cascaded from cheek to cheek and pain radiated from the top of your head to the soles of your feet.

“Are you sure you are well enough to ride?” Your mother asked as her carriage stopped in front of the Dragon Pits. The sights, smells, and sounds of King’s Landing were starting to get to you, shrinking your patience and growing your irritability even further.

“Yes, mother.” Your voice was tight. You tried not to let it slip, but you felt like an injured animal, ready to bite the next hand that came upon you. “I need to get back to Dragonstone as quickly as possible. I will surely throw myself overboard if I have to stay on a ship for the next two weeks with this injury.” She merely looked at you for a solid moment, then nodded with a sad smile from the open window of the carriage where she and little Joffrey were sitting inside. He waved from beside her and you waved back, promising to see him soon.

You dismounted your horse as your party came to a full stop at the steps of the Dragon Pits and hauled your bag over your shoulders. Your father called your name from atop his own steed as you began your ascent up the steps. Turning, you looked to him.

“Do not forget what I told you.” His voice held seriousness to it. “I do this to prolong your life, not ruin it. Please remember that.” A moment passed before you nodded without a word and turned to continue your journey to Maestron.

"It seems you've been up to something..." Daemon started from his seat in front of the fireplace of his solar as you entered. The door wasn't even closed completely before he spoke. "And what I've seen since your arrival to the Red Keep has only confirmed it." You did not open your mouth, merely looked at him carefully. He let you bathe in the uncomfortable silence before he let you in on his knowledge.

“The match will not work,” Your father stated plainly. That knowing grin was planted firmly on his lips, but the look in his eyes told you that this would not be a pleasant conversation.

“The match?” You played dumb, voice nasally from the fresh cotton packed into your nostrils. It would not work, you knew this, but this conversation had already started off on the wrong foot. Your father sighed.

“I know you’ve been conspiring with my nephew. I am not blind to the letters and your secret meetings. I know everything that goes on under my own roof. Seeing it in the gardens yesterday only confirmed my suspicions entirely.” You were stunned. Of course he watched your every move. He was a master schemer, after all. You should've known better. “I am telling you now that this will not work.”

“And why shouldn’t it?” You challenged naively. Surely you had to fight for this? You were still mildly drowsy from the minuscule amount of milk of the poppy that the Grandmaester had given you for comfort, so your thoughts of what had transpired just previously were not entirely clear. “It had the potential to work up until this very moment!” He stood from his seat and stood before you, looking down on you as if you were still a child pulling at his coat for attention. Your father cupped your bruised cheeks carefully in his calloused and scarred hands -just as you had with Luke- and kept his eyes firmly to yours as he spoke with finality.

“You know just as well as I do that when the King dies -and it will be soon-, the seven hells will break loose upon this Kingdom. Rhaenyra will be crowned Queen, but she will not go unchallenged. The Lady Hightower and her father will do all they can to put the little cunt Aegon under a Usurper’s crown. I know this to be true. If they have you, then they have leverage. Your mother would kneel if it meant keeping you safe, do you understand me? Is this a position you would put her in? Put us in? You would be his hostage, not his wife. You, as my daughter -as my flesh- deserve more than that.” His words were sincere, and you admittedly had been shortsighted with the whole affair regarding Aemond.

“He would not hold me hostage. He cares for me, I know he does! You don’t know him like I do, father.” You felt foolish for even arguing, but your heart ached terribly at the reality before you. A tear slid free down your cheek. Daemon’s thumb caught it before it could descend completely.

“I know he puts duty to his mother above all else. There is nothing, and no one, that would come between that. Not even you, dōna hāedar. You saw how he lashed at your brothers, how quick he was to strike when given the opportunity. You think he would not turn that to you eventually?” He did not expect an answer, but he let you think on it. “Do not let fickle matters of the heart cloud your judgment. You are smarter than this. You are fiercer than this. You were born of my flesh, and that entitles you to greatness. He will only bring pain and misery. I need you to trust me with this.” Closing your eyes, you nodded. Like with most things…your father was right. Matters of the heart were fickle and when it came down to it, you would not turn your back to your family.

Your bag felt heavier and heavier with each step into the Great Dragon Hall than it did when you arrived. The vast domed ceilings were always a sight to behold every time you walked through. You began your descent down into the pits through a torch-lit staircase that took you down, down, down, and even deeper still until the staircase opened to the room that housed a shrine of Balerion the Black Dread’s massive skull surrounded by hundreds of burning candles.

Placing your heavy bag onto the ground for a moment’s rest gave your body much needed relief.

“Not even you” rang in your mind. Your chest tightened and you bowed your head, begging the long passed dragon to give you strength.

“My Lady, I was hoping to see you before you departed.” Aemond spoke softly behind you as he materialized from the shadows. “I cannot apologize enough for what transpired last night.”

“You’re right…you cannot.” You turned to let him see you. Aemond’s whole face dropped as he took in your battered face. The bruising and swelling only got worse overnight. A vessel had broken in your left eye, staining the white of it a rich vermillion. He rushed to you, closing the space between you and as Aemond reached his hand to touch you, you took a step out of his reach. His brows furrowed, not understanding your movement. You shook your head, lip quivering with pent up emotion. “I do not know you, it seems.” Aemond’s jaw dropped ever so slightly.

“I do not understand. Of course you know me, just as I know you.”

“If you knew me as you say you do, you would’ve taken one look into my pleading eyes last night and stopped dead in your tracks before the night could’ve erupted the way it did.” You spat. “You and your brother were antagonistic, vicious, and cruel. There was no reason for it-”

“-No reason for it?” His jaw dropped even further.

“No reason for it!” You doubled down, voice echoing in the room. “I know you hold no love for my brothers, Luke least of all. They were on their best behavior. They swore to me that they would be and they were.” Aemond scoffed, laughing humorlessly. His body turned away from you to pace.

“Then you are blind.” He stopped with his words, looking at you once more.

“No,” You shook your head. “I do not fault you in your disdain for Luke. I’ve told him as much. Jace has done nothing to you that you haven’t done to him! Time after time after time he turned the other cheek to you and your brother last night. Had I heard the way Aegon spoke of Baela, he would've left in worse condition than I." Jace had spoken to you when he delivered you to your parents' solar after the fight. You could not believe your ears. "Both you and Aegon were grown men reduced down to children. Joffrey, whose name you also dragged through the mud, would never act in such a way at his age. The things Jace let you get away with saying before he stood up is generous. How many times must you strike a dragon before it strikes back?”

“He is no dragon, my dear.” His grin was cruel as he shook his head. “Or do you have the same delusions as my half-sister?” What you saw of Aemond last night was no illusion, that much was clear. Cruelty truly did nestle itself into him, grasping firmly onto his heart with its poisoned tendrils. You set your face firm as you spoke sternly. Your father’s words continued to ring in your mind.

“Jace is a dragon! Just as Luke is! Just as I am! As is Joffrey. My brothers may not look as I do, but they are of my mother and they have Targaryen fire in their veins all the same.” The pain in your head only got worse as the conversation went on.

“So you too will turn a blind eye to them?” Their legitimacy, is what he meant.

“They know who they are, Aemond.” Your voice held anger. “You need not remind them at every turn as if it is a new discovery!” Aemond looked disappointed with you. He bit his lower lip and took a deep breath to calm himself.

“My heart belongs to you," He breathed. "but my kindness will never extend to them.”

“Then let your indifference! I beg of you! I will not do this any longer, Aemond! My heart cannot take it.”

“And what of mine?” His voice was laced with frustration. “Or is it only your brothers that you hold so dearly?” And bitterness, it would seem. For once, he had begged without saying it, choose me.

“Up until this point I have only shown you kindness and affection. I bent over backwards to assure that last night did not turn out the way it did because I know how they can behave. I’m not blind to it, but it was you and Aegon who could not help yourselves. Never did I think it was you that I would need to worry about.” Heartbreak was clear in your eyes as tears laced your voice, and it killed Aemond to not only see it, but hear it in your words. You continued:

“I shall never again feel the way I felt at that table, Aemond. I should never have to feel that anxiety -that dread and misery- in your presence, something that I craved and welcomed wholeheartedly just hours before.” You shook your head, letting your tears fall. “You did not care, Aemond. As I bled on the floor because of your brother's recklessness, you did not care. All that mattered was making sure my brothers were nestled squarely under your boot at every turn and I will not stand idly by while that continues to happen.” Aemond had been reprimanded his whole life by his mother, his father, his grandsire. The list went on and on. None of them, however, hurt the way this did.

“The man I witnessed last night was not the Aemond who spirited me away in the fields of Rosby in the cover of night. He was not the Aemond in your letters. He was not the Aemond who greeted my arrival not two days ago. He was not the Aemond who has caressed me and given his affections so wholly to me." You panted as you caught your breath. "Have I slighted you?" You pointed to yourself. "Wronged you in any way that would warrant your cruel treatment? Every lash you extend to them hits me just as hard and it absolutely shatters my heart, Aemond.”

“You are not them and you refuse to see it!" His voice raised. "By coddling those boys, you give them no consequences! Consequences they’ve never faced in their lives! Constantly they are shielded regardless of what they do, while I deal with the brunt of the punishment just as I am now! So yes, you have slighted me!” His voice, normally stoic and contained, held raw emotion as he fought back. Laughing humorlessly through your tears, you replied:

“To you I coddle them! To them I coddle you! It seems I cannot win.” Aemond could see the defeat in your eyes, the sagging of your shoulders, as clear as day. The air hung heavy between you as silent tears continued to fall.

“If we were to marry,” Aemond started once he got himself together. “would you still run to their side with every call?” You didn’t want to answer, so instead you deflected.

“You still believe there is a chance that we could marry?” You asked rhetorically, brows furrowed. “Has your mother given her approval as a final means to bring the family together?” You laughed cruelly, knowing that was the only reason she would agree -if she even agreed to begin with.

“Do not deflect.” He spoke through gritted teeth, seeing right through you.

“They are my brothers, Aemond!” You shouted, making Aemond flinch just the slightest bit. “My flesh and blood! I know it hurts you to hear it, but I will not turn my back on them! I will not choose between my brothers and the man that I love.” Your voice was stern, eyes pleading. “The man that I love would not make me choose.” Shaking your head once more, you wiped the tears from your face gently. “This will not work, Aemond.” You shuttered as you spoke. Aemond felt a painful twitch behind his sapphire as he remembered his mother’s words from the night before.

Alicent stared at Aemond as if he had grown a second head from his shoulders, stunned by his words. The stress of the catastrophic dinner, in no short part due to the man standing before her, still weighed heavily upon her shoulders. Her frown seemed to pull her face down even further.

“You think Rhaenyra, much less Daemon, would willingly hand their only daughter over to you on a silver platter after what transpired tonight? Has your mind left you completely?” Aemond had the wherewithal to look down in shame. “They would never do it, and I do not blame them for it.” Aemond schooled his features, as he taught himself to do long ago, and straightened his back as he looked to his mother.

“It would bring the families together, just as father wants.” Rarely did Aemond try to please his ailing father. Not anymore, anyways, but he was grasping for anything that would stick. “Rhaenyra would do it if he commanded it, you know this. As his final request to her, she would fulfill it.” He reasoned, “Father wants peace between the families and this is the way to do it.”

“My sweet son,” Alicent held his shoulders as she shook her head, tears lining her eyes. “I fear the division has been cleaved too great. This will not work.”

“I beg you to reconsider,” Aemond approached you slowly. When you did not move out of his reach, he caressed just behind your ear with the gentlest of touches. “There are no excuses for my behavior, past or present, and I take full responsibility for everything that transpired last night. For this,” His thumb ghosted over the bruised apple of your cheek. “There is nothing I could do to warrant your forgiveness for this.” Your hands came up to rest on his strong forearms, the muscles tensing beneath your fingertips.

“I know he puts duty to his mother above all else. There is nothing, and no one, that would come between that. Not even you, dōna hāedar. You saw how he lashed at your brothers, how quick he was to strike when given opportunity. You think he would not turn that to you?” You heard your father’s voice and you made your decision. You removed Aemond’s hands and held them between you. You squeezed them as you spoke.

“To fight the inevitable is foolish. This is something neither of us will compromise on, Aemond.” You began, voice devoid of emotion. “You’ve always held duty in the highest regard, and I do not fault you for that as I too have a duty of my own that I must adhere to.” It hurt you to look at Aemond, but you owed him your sincerity at the very least. “I love you, and I will probably always love you, but I cannot,” Your voice choked. “I cannot do this. When it comes down to it-”

“-You would not choose me.” His voice was broken, shattered. Devastation created a film over his remaining eye as he looked down at you. Once more he has been overlooked for his nephews. He felt the proverbial blade push and twist. It was a feeling he was familiar with. He only wished it was real.

Your eyes mirrored his as you looked back at him earnestly.

“Would you choose me?” Over your mother, over Helaena was the implication. Silence followed.

Taglist: @nina2697 @visenyaverse @crazymusicgirl104

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen one shot #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen #hotd #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #hotd x reader #hotd imagine #hotd fanfic #game of thrones imagine #x reader #angst #spoils of war

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ghostofafruit · 5 months

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So i'm working on a lot of fics at the moment, the oneshots will continue as I always have with loose hope that i'll finish them before I lose interest in them but I have several multi chapter/longform fics I wish to work on. There is a poll at the bottom of this post and I just want to get a guide idea for what people would want first, below are the four longer fics I'm trying to finish and get out and a little description about them.

Martha/Rose Season 3 onwards rewrite - A Martha/Rose multichapter rewrite of season 3 featuring less leading on of Martha, a role swap between Rose and the Doctor, and an actual relationship. Would probably contain immortal/bad wolf Rose.

Rose and Ten in the MCU - A doctorrose long oneshot (It was meant to be maybe 5k and I haven't even gotten to my main points for writing it yet and it's over double that). They've crashed into the MCU and they can't get the Tardis to start back up again, she won't even do a short jump within the universe, so they're stuck on Earth and have to settle down. Rose becomes an English teacher at Peter's school. Later into the year there's a fieldtrip to stark industries, and the Doctor and Rose get the help of Peter and Tony to get back home. (I actually have a sequel planned too, a human nature/family of blood rewrite where the Doctor crashes them into that universe to hide out)

Married Life - a season 2 onwards multichapter rewrite starting at the werewolf episode going forward Each chapter alternates between an episode rewrite and an original, hopefully more relaxed, adventure.

It's not really a secret - originally intended as a multichapter Merlin fic, inspired by a prompt from @onceandfuturelesbian in which Uther finds out about Merlin's magic and tries to kill him for it. The first chapter came out over a year ago and I've been really struggling with it. Now it is intended to be finished as a longer oneshot with Merthur happening around halfway through.

Rose Tyler's guide to becoming a superhero - Immortal Rose Tyler is trying to get back to her birth universe after her family are all gone (she's in her 300s she wanted to hang around and explore that universe) but her one attempt on the canon lands her not in her original universe but one full of heros and villains. Her brother Tony had liked comics, though she never had, and through him and her hazy memory of his rambles about his comics, she has a pretty rough idea of what's going on. She starts out as a teacher, but one of her students is Peter Parker and that name rings a bell from Tony's ramblings. It takes a little while, but she realises he's Spider-Man and sets on to help him however she can. Good thing Bad Wolf left behind a couple things more than just immortality.

#doctor who #fanfic #rose tyler #timepetals #doctorrose #tenrose #dr who #tenth doctor #martha jones #martharose #crossover #peter parker #mcu #doctor who marvel crossover #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #merlin #merthur

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lost-between-letters · 2 years

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Ever Heard Of Knocking?

Pairing: Jack Kline X Winchester!Reader (she/her)

Requested by: anon

Warnings: spoiler 13x07 and onward

Word Count: 1,284

Summary: Dean wants a movie night, Sam wants to read and Jack and Y/N want some quality time together. Or: a normal day with the Winchester family and their nosiness

For the first time in ages, Sam was really back in the mood for a good old book. Two hours of straight up silence and a warm bed did that to a person - returning to their deepest desires (well, not deepest, but certainly the most relaxing ones).

It was a damn interesting book too, full of plot twists and deep layered characters. Sam had caught the first major betrayal and was just getting to the juicy part when someone knocked on his door.

Typical. He put his finger between the pages. "Come in."

"There you are!" Dean pushed the door open with his elbow, two beers in each hand and a rare smile on his face. "What do you think of a nice ol' movie night?"

"Uhm," his first reaction was to decline. He was quite comfortable right here.

But then, Sam made the mistake of really looking at his brother. The circles under his eyes hadn't evened out completely yet, not even Cas' presence had erased all of his worries.

The movie night was clearly an attempt at normalcy. And Sam would be damned if he didn't give him that. "Sounds great. Let's get the rest."

"Awesome." Dean put down two of the beer bottles. He waved him over so Sam obeyed and got up from his bed. Ugh, the mattress was practically calling for him.

In the corridor, Dean pointed towards Jack's door. It was not closed entirely which Sam found odd. Jack always kept it shut. "You'll get the kids and I Cas, oka- what was that?'

A lifetime of danger had Sam on alert immediately.

The noise again.

"Are those bedsprings?" Dean looked slightly murderous, "from Y/N's room?"

There was exactly one person in the bunker who frequented Y/N's room aside from her brothers.

Jack.

Dean was already halfway across the floor when Sam caught up with him and just barely stopped him from kicking down the door.

Which in hindsight was maybe not the best idea. Now that they were closer, they could hear the conversation from inside.

Wet noises, then Jack's voice. "That feels... Weird."

"Good weird, or bad weird?" Y/N this time, teasing tone that Sam recognised from more than one overheard flirt.

"Good weird," Jack said and sighed.

Oh God.

This couldn't be happening.

While Sam was still feeling faintly sick of what he was listening to, Dean had already taken action into his own hands. With a stony expression on his face, he barrelled into the room.

"What the hell is going on here?" The threat was pretty clear in his voice, a stark contrast to the relaxed conversation that had come from the room moments ago.

Jack and Y/N looked up at once and stared at them like little kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

For a long minute, no one said anything. Y/N and Jack were recovering from the shock of being barged into on and Sam and Dean were taking in the scene in front of them.

They hadn't been making out. At least that was a win for today, Sam decided there and then.

"Uh, facemasks?" Y/N waved her brush in explanation. "I was just applying it to his face when you barged in. That was pretty rude by the way."

And frankly speaking, that was exactly what was going on. Jack was sitting cross legged on her bed with his face full of a strange foam, the only free space being his left cheek. It appeared that he was smiling underneath it - nervously if Sam was judging that right. Y/N was sitting across from him, a bunch of bottles of all kinds of lotions and face masks - presumably to give a bigger choice - laying spread around her while she was sitting on her heels, facing Jack.

Dean, of course, had a pretty reasonable reaction. "What the hell?"

"Y/N said it would be fun! Like a sleepover," Jack explained helpfully.

While Dean was gaping at his little sister, words quite literally stripped away momentarily, Y/N grinned brightly. "See? Nothing to be worried about, you big mama bear."

"That's-"

"-true," Sam jumped in. He had a fleeting suspicion that there was something more going on here but he was not in the mood for family therapy right now. With a subtle step in front of Dean, Sam raised the beer bottles, "Actually, we came to get you guys for a few movies?"

"Didn't you say that movies are also watched at a sleepover?" Jack turned towards Y/N, excitement lacing his voice at the idea.

And there it was. Her face softened immediately when Jack reached for her hand. Yeah, his sister definitely got a crush.

"We're in," Y/N said while getting up from the bed. She let his hand drop casually, her eyes jumping to Dean, "but first let's get the masks off, alright?"

Once again, Dean started to say something and once again, Sam interrupted him. "Cool! Dean, didn't you want to get Cas? We'll meet you with food in the Dean cave."

The fact that Sam actually used the name was enough to have Dean momentarily distracted and follow through with the instructions.

As soon as he was out of the door and out of ear shot, Sam turned towards Jack and Y/N. Jack was looking at him, head tilted slightly in a very familiar way and his sister was staring at Jack. Sam cleared his throat. "Jack why don't you go clean your face?"

"You can use my bathroom," Y/N added.

Her eyes followed him as he left the room, an absent minded smile on her face.

"You do know that you've got some of that foam on your lips as well, don't you?"

It wasn't true but Y/N blushed and rubbed at them furiously. So they had been making out after all. They had a pretty quick reaction time, Sam had to admit.

"Is it off now?" She asked while simultaneously reaching for her phone to use as a mirror and check.

When she saw that there actually was nothing, she scoffed and shook her hair out. Someone was embarrassed at getting caught. So far, Sam was enjoying this maybe a little too much.

"Please don't tell Dean." And there it was.

He sighed and swung his right arm around her shoulder. "He'll find out eventually."

"But not from you," Y/N begged again and gave him a taste of his own medicine. Her best puppy eyes.

Sam acted like he was thinking about it. "What do I get out of this?"

Then, Y/N shoved him. But she was smiling. Yeah, he could never deny her anything for too long. "Dick."

"No, seriously," he insisted.

Just then, Jack came back into the room. He hesitated when he saw the both of them standing there, Y/N tugged into her brother's side.

"You get to see your sister happy?" Y/N offered sweetly and wiggled free from his grip to take Jack's hand.

Again, the nephilim hesitated for barely a moment, eyes darting over to Sam before closing his fingers around her smaller hand. A slow smile spread on his face as he looked down at their interlocked fingers.

Damn, she was good. And the both of them were stupidly in love.

As if Sam would say anything against it now. He hadn't seen his sister so happy in a long time and that alone was reason enough to like Jack. Not that Sam hadn't done that before, that kid had a pure heart and would never hurt Y/N willingly. Yeah, this could have gone far worse. "Deal."

"Cool!" Y/N grinned at him and then leaned over to press a kiss to Jack's cheek. "Let's go watch some movies."

General Taglist: @immrbrightsideeee , @fandomfoodiedancer , @lovesfandoms , @nyotamalfoy , @stixnstripesworld , @foxyjwls007 , @amythedoctor , @alexxavicry

Add yourself to the Taglist

#jack kline x reader #jack x reader #jack kline #jack kline fanfiction #jack x you #fluff

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ala-baguette · 6 months

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Day 28 of @remadoramicrofics - Outsider PoV

Ted had offered to come with her. She’d told him not to. Simultaneously, she felt regret and relief at this. Regret in that she desperately desired the comfort he so effortlessly exuded. Relief in that she didn’t trust that her father wouldn’t be firing off Killing Curses if he had. She reflexively brushed her thumb over the ring on her left hand.

Father stood stock still. His hands were thrust deep within his pockets, and Andromeda was sure one was gripping his wand. But he did not move. Every muscle in his body seemed tensed—poised to spring—but he did not move.

He didn't look at her—hadn't since before she'd even finished saying her piece. His eyes were fixed upon the ornate Turkish rug, and if one had walked in at that moment, from his expression one would have thought the carpet had just been heard speaking the most inexcusable profanities.

The clock on the mantel ticked. The only sound. The only evidence that time continued onward. It echoed around Father’s study.

Andromeda kept her chin held high. For better or for worse, she was her father’s daughter, and so, despite the pounding of her heart and the coldness of her fingertips and the subtle trembling of her arms, she kept her chin held high.

“Say something, Papa,” she demanded into the silence.

He did not immediately respond. When he did, it was not with words. Instead, he merely walked to the door of his study, twisted the door knob, and held it open for her.

Still, he did not look at her. Still, he did not speak. Still, he did not need to.

It was not his response that surprised her. She had anticipated it-- her bag was already packed and waiting for her in the foray.

What did surprise her was how much it hurt.

Nymphadora’s hand rested on Remus’s atop the table as she smiled expectantly down to where Andromeda and Ted sat. Expectantly awaiting congratulations and jubilation.

Ted recovered first. “Well…” He cleared his throat. “Well, that’s just grand, isn’t it, ‘Dromeda?” he said. He could fake it well, but Andromeda knew him. Heaving himself out of his chair, he rounded the table and Nymphadora popped up, releasing Remus’s hand to accept a warm hug from her father. She was positively beaming. “I’m so happy for you, Dora,” Ted said, his voice muffled in their embrace.

“Thanks, Dad.” She laughed as she broke away. “I’m happy for me too.”

Ted smiled and this time it did almost look genuine. Then he turned his attention to Remus. “Welcome to the family, son,” he said, holding out his hand. Remus rose to his feet and a tight smile spread across his lips as he took Ted’s hand and accepted the affectionate clap on the shoulder. Remus didn’t say anything-- he'd let Nymphadora do the talking. It bothered her. Andromeda wasn’t sure what she wanted him to say. Perhaps promises to love and protect her daughter, her only child, the most precious thing in her life… But he was silent.

It wasn’t until all the eyes in the room turned to her that she realised he wasn’t the only one.

Andromeda still sat, straight backed, frozen to her chair. Her gaze flitted from Remus to Ted to Nymphadora to Ted. Her face felt numb. Her mind raced between the words she wanted to say and the words she should say, and she found she didn’t know which was which.

“Mum?” Nymphadora was again looking at her expectantly. But where there had been excitement and joy, now there was worry and doubt.

Andromeda stared at her.

Over Nymphadora’s shoulder, she caught sight of Ted raising his eyebrows at her in a pointed look. Prompting her. Cautioning her.

Andromeda licked her lips and looked back to Nymphadora. And she mustered a weak smile and a nod.

It was enough. Relief flooded Nymphadora’s face, and she knocked over a wine glass in her dash to hug her mother. Andromeda was still seated as her daughter’s arms wrapped around her. Her only child. The most precious thing in her life.

Ted began speaking as Nymphadora broke the embrace, pulling her attention away from Andromeda. “Suppose this calls for a toast!” He crossed to the breakfront to retrieve a bottle of Firewhisky and four tumblers. “So do you have a date in mind?” Ted was asking as he laid out the glasses. Andromeda stared down at her plate and the cold remnants of dinner, keeping her breathing slow and steady.

“Soon. We’ll keep it very simple. In times like these, it doesn’t seem right to do anything big and extravagant. And anyway, neither of us has a big family.”

Andromeda heard the squeak and pop of the cork as Ted unstoppered the bottle but did not look up. Instead, she stared at a bit of carrot and potato still on her plate. She barely listened as they chattered. She didn’t take part. Did not look at them. Did not speak.

But something drew her eyes. Slowly she lifted her gaze from her plate to look across to her future son-in-law. He was looking directly back at her. He did not shy away as their eyes met, merely looked at her as Nymphadora and Ted good-naturedly bickered about the scale of a wedding and how to mark the day.

Andromeda saw the disappointment in Remus’s expression. No. It wasn’t disappointment. It was resignation.

Remus was not surprised by her reaction.

Andromeda was surprised by how much this hurt.

#harry potter fanfiction #remadora microfics #andromeda tonks #okay this is just an exerpt from a half-written Left Behind story #but it works

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scrollwyrm · 19 days

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IceWing Royals Plothole (and my solution.)

This plothole happens just before DarkStalker’s time. How did the NightWings steal Animus Magic? Isn’t it genetic? Snowfox could pass it on?! Here’s what I think:

At one point, when she was a young dragonet, Snowfox walked in on Diamond performing a second spell illegally.

Diamond was furious, but instead of killing the confused dragonet outright, she decided on a plan that would benefit the both of them-

Diamond would have a backup heir in case her son, Arctic, died. (Diamond hated and resented Arctic for having the chance at Animus greatness that Diamond ruined with her mediocre gift.)

Snowfox would be adopted by Diamond’s sister, Pristine, giving her access to the throne. Even if she wasn’t a ‘real’ royal, Diamond liked her better than Arctic.

Snowfox’s parents were killed in an ‘avalanche’.

Snowfox hated Diamond and wanted to be queen from that moment onwards, remembering everything Diamond hoped she’d forget.

She also disliked Arctic, thinking he was every bit as bad as his mother.

Feeling sorry for Arctic’s fiancé, she started a casual conversation with her at a party; and, (against her better judgment), fell hard for her.

Arctic’s fiancé, Snowflake, hated Arctic as much as Snowfox.

Snowfox explained the situation.

Arctic ran away, a plot orchestrated by Snowfox and Snowflake, who are wonderful evil lesbians btw and I love them.

then they ruled the Ice Kingdom after overthrowing Diamond and being adorable partners in crime and girlfriends forever <3

Snowflake’s sister took over when both queens died (peacefully), but neither of the families had animus magic, so the gene was dead.

by the way, Snowflake knew about Snowfox being adopted, but it only made her love her evil gf more because the less she has to be connected to Arctic the better. (Like Sundew and Nettle and Willow kinda.)

#wings of fire #wof #Wof theory #wof headcanon #wof lgbt #wof icewing #wof snowfox #Wof snowflake #Wof arctic #wof diamond

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summersmithlatinxgyatt · 4 months

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GET READY FOR 2000 WORDS OF YAP

This will serve as a dense summary that supports my previous Season 3 and onward Summer analysis blogs. This shows the basis stemming from Season 1 to 3. I highly recommending reading my analysis blogs, but this serves as a great place to start

Summer Smith is a character that I have not seen anyone pay attention to on the same caliber as Rick or even any other character of the family. Despite the small pool and consistent focus, I constantly see her be summarized as being both a typical teen girl and a badass, as if the latter is all that’s done to make her stand out as a character. Luckily, fans who’ve paid more attention to the narrative and her character can at LEAST pick out scattered parts of her characters through focused moments. I do not want to instantly discredit anyone, especially anyone who has known this about Summer but just never shared their thoughts. However, I still see a lack of any meaningful summary, so I wanted to give my own sort of timeline and summary of Summer’s character. As much as I’d like this to be as in-depth as possible, I will be writing this in one go and whatever is fresh on my mind

Summer is incredibly insecure about her self-image, like many teens her age. The difference is how this plays into being a part of the Smith family. She has no one to talk to about it directly because every member of her family is already involved in their own relationship or somewhat gets over it, which she points out in ‘GoTron Jerrysis Rickvangelion’. Rick’s philosophy was something the show practically revolved around for earlier seasons which is exhibited in every character in different ways except Summer. We don’t really see any moment of Summer burying her fear or getting over it even with some amount of silver lining. Instead, she embraces any caliber of attention and love no matter the ramifications. A great example of this is ‘Something Ricked This Way Comes’, where Summer seeks the attention of Mr. Needful, who Rick aptly points out is ‘literally the Devil’. Despite this, she still works for him, accepts his gratitude, and even saves his life

This is a persistent part of Summer’s character, but in later seasons it is the basis of who she is NOW, not her entire personality. These insecurities can range from not feeling pretty or simply having no friends or partners. There’s also a unique aspect to her dynamic, that being she tends to go along with whatever is happening around her as long as she gains from it or at least survives

‘Ricksy Business’ shows a raging party that Summer hosts solely to have attention drawn towards her and feel popular. Even when Rick invites his alien friends, she doesn’t act like Morty. Morty is shown to be on his toes, trying to stop anything bad from happening and making sure not one thing goes wrong. Summer is neutral to the party while Rick insists it continues on through any means, literally sending Morty out to get drugs for him. In this episode, Summer wanted the party to simply go on for her own popularity. However, it would backfire because of one detail we can’t ignore. Summer isn’t innocent.

She dismissed Nancy as a dork she didn’t want to be around, which later on meant no one wanted to be around her once Nancy talked about how shitty she can be. In Season 4, we see she’s invited her to her house with Tricia at least, but in Season 1, Summer is dismissive of others if they don’t give her some form of attention in return

‘Rixty Minutes’ is an episode that shows that her parents had Summer when they were very young and still in high school. When Summer ties to look into other versions of her life across the multiverse, it’s entirely blank and because these are connected to the versions Jerry and Beth see. THIS IS A CONSISTENT DETAIL! On the TV, we see the version of Jerry that Beth also runs into. That means Summer looked into the same universes, but she was absent. As a result, she blames herself for being a burden and someone holding her parents’ potential back.

One detail worth mentioning is that in the other universes, she mentions she’s playing Yahtzee with her family each time. As I keep mentioning and WILL mention here, she values family in high regard. If these universes are focused on successful outcomes, then the happy ending for Summer she didn’t know about back then was bonding with her family. Board games are sometimes used as bonding moments in the show. Two examples that come to mind as I write this include ‘A Rickconvenient Mort’ when Morty originally brought Planetina to the family and then ‘Rickmancing the Stone’ when Beth plays with the robot versions of Summer and Morty, saying she never gets to do this. It’s clearly something the family almost never does but when they do, the times we have seen them pop up is in the context of being too good to be true - the family being together.

We constantly see Jerry reference television and media, it’s clear he wanted to be an actor

Beth mentions she performs surgery on humans instead of horses

And Summer doesn’t realize that her dream is being achieved - having a normal life and a loving family that bonds

Of course, Morty convinces Summer to not run away as she basically realizes someone DOES love and appreciate her in the family. When she says ‘You’re not my brother?’, it also speaks volumes that another Morty was willing to love another version of his sister after the events of ‘Rick Potion #9’. Furthermore, the idea that no one BELONGS anywhere doesn’t mean everyone aimlessly wanders. It just means that Summer wasn’t entitled to any standards at all, standards that she feels the need to abide by that are the entire root of her insecurities and the idea that she is holding her parents back

‘Get Schwifty’ focuses on Summer’s place in the new religion of Headism. She takes it as an opportunity to be seen as perfect in the eyes of her parents. In an episode like ‘Total Rickall’, we see her mother drinking instead of driving her to school, then bruising her eye with a bottle of wine. And of course, the crux of ‘Rixty Minutes’ is Summer feeling like she’s holding back her parents. Her parents didn't show her love and she didn’t know why, which led to her ignoring anyone who didn’t instantly love her back. She was careless and snappy, but in ‘Get Schwifty’, she realized one way to get their attention - ignore her flaws

Whether or not this detail was intentional too, she was following a philosophy her family followed as well, which was ignoring those flaws. Her own unique spin on it and the point of her place in this episode is having a religion to follow that she can not only align herself upon, but as a reference point for others to realize how much she’s changed. This works not only for her parents but for Ethan as well. Summer is shown to be more active and seemingly happy but incredibly devoted to this religion. When she sees the heads, she uses it as proof that she can achieve a form of improvement that is legitimate, which is why she’s so dedicated to it

However, just because Summer goes along with any means to be popular, it doesn’t mean that she will ignore her family. Again, she wants their attention and love. Summer wouldn’t harm her family entirely if she thinks they already hold a negative view of her, except ARGUABLY Jerry. With these next two examples, you’ll see that Season 2 has outliers because her character is fleshed out

‘Big Trouble in Little Sanchez’ shows that Summer cares for Rick’s well being and is frustrated when no one else seeks his safety. She was selfless enough to risk her own popularity when she ‘ratted out’ Rick, she just didn’t know the extent of it. However, she doesn’t cry about it and insists on still saving Rick. This is around the time she begins to hold her family closer. ‘Total Rickall’ shows the family needs to stick together and tries to find a silver lining from how toxic they all are to one another. ‘Rixty Minutes’ shows Morty’s love for her while ‘Something Ricked This Way Comes’ shows Rick’s love for Summer. As a result, she values them for the happiness they bring one another and goes out of her way to save Rick even when he thinks he doesn’t need help

‘Look Who’s Purging Now’ shows how she’s found her place within the family. She gravitates towards Rick and Morty more instead of her parents. Rick entrusts Summer to save them both while Jerry pesters her. The constant character traits are on FULL DISPLAY in this episode and I’m kicking myself for not mentioning it before. She nearly cries as she remembers moments with her father and is insulted that he used family bonding moments to ease her into giving Jerry money. And although it probably isn’t intentional, saying The Purge sucks opposes Jerry’s view of just liking and referencing all movies. This point is also supported when she asks if all interdimensional cable needs to be juvenile violence. Furthermore, this small detail is contrasted when she’s more aggressive and fine with killing in Season 3.

In this episode, we understand more of who Summer favors in her life - Rick and Morty and not Jerry. This branches out from Season 1’s showing of Summer as a careless teenager, as ‘Raising Gazorpazorp’ and ‘Something Ricked This Way Comes’ cement how she holds Rick close too

So we’ve moved past holding people close to just love them and get something out of it. In Season 2, she realizes she appreciates the genuine love her family has for her. At the same time, she’s finding out who she loves and why. The ending of Season 2, however, utterly changes this

I can go on and on for days about how this scene needs to be recognized as one of the most pivotal across the entire show. I consider it the most important scene when it comes to understanding her character. If you want the episode where Summer changes into her more rebellious and strong side, watch ‘Wedding Squanchers’ after understanding everything that came before.

As I’ve said again and again, the reason I regard Summer breaking into tears when Rick mentions the consequences of the Galactic Federation being on their heels is because so little is said and it shows a lot about Summer.

This is a scene where she’s the only one crying and blames herself because her insecurities have played a part in leading to Tammy murdering Bird Person and successfully rounding up any terrorists. And again, she’s so lonely and out-of-place alongside her family that it’s just looked over, ironically by many fans too

I will wrap this up by summarizing what follows

Because Summer holds herself heavily accountable for befriending Tammy to begin with, she holds her family closer than ever. She swears to bring back Rick and hates the Galactic Federation. This is branching off character traits in Summer and removes the idea that Summer will listen to authority or take their word. Even across ‘Wedding Squanchers’, she comes to an ultimate realization by telling Jerry, “You don’t love someone in hopes of a reward”. This single line removes Summer’s old trait where she quite literally loved other people in hopes of a reward, meaning yes, the previous scene IS her ego death and the moment her character changes.

She despises the Federation and is the only one in the family willing to act against them - again, showing her alienation. This is why Summer is fine with acting violently to address an issue, why she doesn’t listen to a form of authority, and is close with her family. Later seasons show she keeps them together. If Summer didn’t rebel, then there’s almost no chance she would’ve convinced Rick to come back (side-note, another Rick holds Summer hostage instead of Morty in ‘The Rickshank Rickdemption’). Her subconscious potential manifested as Night Summer, which is nothing more than Summer being totally brutal and speaking however she pleases. The Night family listens to Summer, because they recognize that she also keeps them together. This implies that even though no one else in the family says anything about Summer’s role, they HAVE thought about it. Night Summer is not inherently evil or a ‘dark’ version of Summer despite the name. If anything, this is identical to Summer playing Yahtzee - finding her place in her family, being trusted, and being loved.

This is meant to be more of an analysis compilation to break down Summer’s character. To oppose what many have said, Summer is actually a fleshed-out and very consistent character.

She is not just a bratty teenager.

She is not just a badass.

She is not just insecure.

Summer Smith began as an insecure teenager because she has never found attention or love that stayed. As time passed, she found shelter by being loved and loving others. However, this all changed when her past insecurities and the need to be loved caught up and she blamed herself for the Galactic Federation. She needed to keep her family close after nearly losing them, she went against any authority figures from now on, and she went on her own accord. The aforementioned descriptions aren’t entire fractions of her character or something that she instantly falls back on. This is always changing and sometimes is erased as time passes. She’s always changing, and that’s why for me, she is the most overlooked character in the show due to how much depth she carries that isn’t noticed. And of course, why Summer Smith has got to be my favorite character. So much so that a ‘short’ recap ended up being over 2,300 words

#rick and morty #summer smith #summer #hyperfixation #character analysis #character exploration #summer smith is the best character #professional yapper #infodump

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the-song-of-avernus · 3 months

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Family (Re)Union

Summary: With Wyll's father rescued from the Iron Throne, tension lingers as Ulder Ravengard has been remarkably quiet about the woman who rescued him, the woman he saw over and over again in Wyll's mind these past months.

(Word Count: 3500) Devil Wyll (Tiefling Form) x Cambion-turned-tiefling Tav Read on AO3

“Wyll, he hasn’t said a dozen words to me since we got back. He just chills out in the corner, doing paperwork, taking visits from Florrick and like four trusted Fist, and occasionally petting the owlbear.” Standing in the now-emptied chambers of the former Bhaalist tribunal, stone-silent except for the occasional crackle of the torches not yet extinguished, stood the self-styled Blade of Avernus, Wyll Ravengard, and the newly-minted Song of Avernus, Furiella.

It had been a whirlwind four months. From a life of luxury hiding out in the city, a cambion with not a care in the world, to captured and tadpoled aboard an Illithid ship, crashing to earth. Mindflayers, gods and goddesses. Avatars of the Dead Three. The loss of her powers and wings. Mortality.

And Wyll.

-----------

The son of the Duke. He’d disappeared without so much a word from the city nearing a decade ago, and any attempts to find out where he had gone had led to stonewalling. No comment. An embarrassing secret that she or her big sisters could use?

The truth itself had been far more straightforward. He’d been pacted to a Mizora, whose reputation preceded her in Infernal circles. She’d felt it the moment Wyll had confronted Karlach in camp that night. Worse still…she’d interfered. She had been the one to talk Wyll out of fulfilling his contract with Mizora that night. She was the one who had kept Zariel’s lost warrior alive; no, befriended her. She was the one helping every single lost soul encountered on the Sword Coast with no expectation of gain. The nerve.

That night, Wyll had paid a price. Gone was the human-looking Blade of Frontiers. Pointed ears. A tail. Horns and claws, sharpened teeth and his good eye turned black. Infernal and tiefling features abounded, and as Mizora made sure to make quickly known, very permanent. With it had come a warning from Mizora for her. Interfere again, little one, and she’d share a similar fate.

As the two had grown closer, and their travels continued onwards, eventually Mizora's warning would come to pass. They had just discovered the sanctuary in the shadow-cursed lands near the one-time Reithwin Town. Harpers and Flaming Fist and the tieflings from the grove! Joy and relief had quickly turned to horror, however, when she noticed the tiefling girl Mol seated across a lanceboard table from..him. Raphael, the son of the archdevil Mephistopheles.

He had been tempting them since the day after they had escaped the Illithid ship. Teasing a solution to their “tadpole” issue only to pull out the carpet for a later day. Mol had made some questionable choices, left largely to her own and with the unquestioned adoration of the other tiefling children, and now here was Raphael. She knew his intent. He’d sensed her potential to, and had planned to entrap her. Absolutely not. Her own protectiveness of the tieflings and especially the children and desire to shield them from the horrors of the Hells overrode her judgement. What had started with a cordial conversation led to a bumped lanceboard set, and a fury that illuminated the outpost even more than the Selunite cleric’s light. Promising his revenge, a hellish laugh filled the room as Raphael glibly noted “Third strike, little one.”

Flames engulfed her body as she seared with agony. Her wings dissolved in a blaze of heat. Her magic was dissolving by the second with a ferocity not even a sussur flower could manage. The creeping shuffle of mortality made its’ way into her form. “Since you’re so interested in the tieflings, this seems particularly fitting. Be grateful, the way you were going you would have probably become celestial were it not for our guiding hand. At least this way you’ll hold on to some semblance of yourself. Who knows, perhaps you’ll even rediscover yourself one day. I’ll be watching. That’s a promise.”

Perhaps it was the cutting of the final tether that reminded Wyll of Mizora and his own loss, perhaps it was the similarity of their predicaments. Maybe it was just her. But Wyll had grown used to the new reflection, and was there for her in the way she’d been there for him. The spurs on her back where wings had once grown. The very subtle lines on her face that hadn’t been there the day they met. The first time she awoke from her bedroll with the slight pop of a bone joint and a small groan of soreness. This had been new for her, just as the horns had been new for him.

In wanting to be there for her in the same way that she had helped him slowly grow to not hate his new features, Wyll had wanted to be there for her too. In that moment, it hit him with a wave of perfect crystal clarity.

Earlier in their travels, she had teased him about dancing. It took some work to get used to his altered center of gravity. Wyll practiced for days, when everyone was asleep. He wanted to get this right. To let go of his own self-doubt and self-loathing and to show the woman who had so recently been there for him that he was starting to find peace, and that he wanted to share that peace and that...love..with her.

There was that word. He loved her. And you know what, if Wyll had to wager a pouch of gold on it, he suspected she felt the same. Resolute, the practice continued on under the cloak of darkness and shadow, until one night she’d awoken, unable to rest, her shoulders once again sore enough to keep her restless. Furiella needed some balm for the irritation, and a GOOD stretch. Wyll, nearby, couldn't help but hear her muttering about the damnable spurs on her shoulder blades, the last remnants of the wings that she had sported proudly until recently. The same vestigal holdover that most other tieflings also carried.

Their absence was clearly the biggest adjustment for her. He had seen her playing the Lyre – first a wooden one she’d gotten from the druids. Later an exquisite and ornate spider-themed one that they had recovered from the body of the dead Drow, Minthara, in the raid of the goblin camp. He had to figure the shoulder movements were causing irritation. Thoughts of mechanics quickly turned into wondering how did she managed to use these damnable claws to so effortlessly work the strings without breaking them? So tenderly. With such beautiful music.

He had planned to ask her to play a song while showing off his steps. Instead, that night he found himself stood before her, mid-rehearsal, her with a cheesy grin with only the slightest glance of soreness."Don't stop on my account." .

"I figured it was time to brush up on my skills," he grinned back. "I wouldn't want to disappoint my new partner."

Taking the opportunity, he asked to see her own dance movements. The bard had already seen his, after all. She’d managed a fairly graceful leap but it was clear she was still getting used to the balance changes that must come with the lack of wings and the way mortality creeps into your muscles and joints. Working with her, the dance had grown closer and closer – and then a kiss. Which begat another. And over the course of their journeys, notes had become songs, and steps into more dance, and shared affection and kisses into love most deep.

As they'd grown to love each other they'd also grown to re-love themselves. Ironically, having become a tiefling had given her a level of humanity that she had never known. Lives were so fleeting, so brief. Love and joy. Duty and courage. Grief and sorrw. Every feeling mattered that much more, every moment of time all the more valuable. Helping people, that mattered too. Furiella came to know why Wyll had dedicated himself to traveling the Sword Coast as a hero.

Heroes would be needed to liberate their home.

While they were away, Bane's Chosen, Enver Gortash, had used Wyll’s father as a pawn in his ascent to power and had, upon the adventurers' arrival in the city, had himself declared Grand Duke by Ulder Ravengard, then discarded him in his underwater prison. Mizora herself had re-emerged and offered Wyll a way to rescue him, but refusing to be her pawn one moment later, had told her no. They managed to determine the location of the prison almost by accident (thanks to some devotees of Umberlee and a submersible) but had mounted a rescue, which Mizora herself tried to stop (and had failed).

Ulder had been deeply unhappy at the rescue. His son had become a devil. The woman who had ensnared him those seven years ago stood just meters away in their room at the Elfsong Tavern. And the woman he had notice his son’s attentions continuously drift towards had an aura similar to that of the blue cambion, Mizora, that had ensnared a young Wyll. Her appearance said tiefling, but no, there was more there, Ulder knew it.

The confrontation had come a short time later. Ulder was disgusted with his son and his continued infernal dealings. Was this some sort of sexual thing? A plan to oust him and take over the Gate? Personal riches? What could drive HIS son to forget the pillars and to seek out the influence of the Nine Hells themselves.

The Illithid tadpole that Enver Gortash had used to control Ulder Ravengard would provide the answer. Wyll and Furiella, having decided that if Ulder were going to hate Wyll (never even mind her), he should at least know the whole truth. Then, if he still hated his son, still loathed the woman who, she was beginning to suspect might become his daughter-in-law in the years to come, then at least they would know that he had hated them with all information revealed. Once nothing was hidden, if he still hated them, that was beyond their regard, and they could live with that.

In the matter of minutes, the tadpole had given Ulder Ravengard access to years of memories. The childhood bonds. His work saving the tieflings and saving the sword coast. Mizora’s many, many lies. And that fateful day seven years ago when Wyll had accepted her first offer in order to protect the city from the cultists of Tiamat who had amassed in secret to lay siege to the city. That Wyll had tried to tell him about but couldn’t – because of her.

THAT apology came simply. In a moment, he had understood his son. How he had kept to the four pillars. Learned and internalised every lesson Ulder had ever tried to pass on. The way he cherished the things about his mother that Ulder had passed on. That Wyll had never regretted his choice for a moment, not because of its’ consequences, but simply because it had meant that everyone else was cared for. Everyone else was safe. The reunion had been swift, had been sincere.

But Ulder Ravengard had also seen her memories. The years of training by her sisters and extended family to one day step into the family business. Adventures in the hells. The way she herself had once seen Wyll, seen him, seen the city, seen the people of the Gate. Felt what she was. But also what she had lost. Had given up. Immortality. Flight. Almost all of her powers save for her abilities as a bard and a small amount of wizarding talent that had come largely at the tutoring of the wizard Gale, of Waterdeep, that had been in their company. The pain and the agony. She was a cambion, a daughter of the hells. He’d heard stories of their kind having the potential to change, to be less evil – but usually that meant ascension, an inversion into becoming celestial. Not a tiefling. Not truly. He had also seen the moment that Mizora tried to tempt her again to spite Wyll, and she had only just held resolve. Whatever had been done to her, Ulder's training with the Flaming Fist and access to her unfiltered memories through that damnable parasite allowed him to still detect a trace of something...more. In the same way that whatever had transformed Wyll had left a residual trace of his former humanity, the tiniest ember of who and what she had been before still smoldered.

He was petrified at the idea that this was somehow a game. A plot. A ruse. What WAS her true intention here?, had thought Duke Ravengard, distrustfully mulling over the nature and plans of the woman who had saved him, of who her son so clearly loved deeply. He just got his son back, he will NOT let him get hurt by another devil.

-----

In the halls of the Bhaal Tribunal, Wyll and Furiella wondered what Ulder was going to do, what he would say. Because Ulder had seen his mind, knew he was going to propose to her. Seen her mind and already knew the answer. Knew who she had been. Knew who he had become. They, meanwhile, had seen him. Seen his mind and heart through the tadpole, and the reactions on his face. He clearly felt reconcillatory towards his son, but what about her? Wyll had already had an idea for a proposal that his father must now know about, and she had basically turned him into a walking jewelry story, having recently put him in charge of carrying the assorted rings and gems that the adventurers had found. It was not a subtle hint, but the response of Wyll’s father loomed over things like a sword held overhead.

Arriving back at the Elfsong a short time later, the pair were intercepted by Lakrissa. “Hey, you two.” Changing to a whisper the tiefling remarked, “Duke Ravengard wants to meet you both in the cellar. That large study you told Alfira about with the great acoustics.”

Thanking her, the two trekked through the kitchen – with a quick nod to the chef – and down into the cellar. Moving through the passage, they arrived at the Emperor’s old haunt. Only a few knew about this place. Including, apparently Ulder Ravengard, seated facing away from them at a table.

The room was still coated with a fine layer of ash following the disposal of several Githyanki bodies a tenday earlier. The pair made their way across the room, the flickering candles and lanterns creating a mosaic of shadows.

As the two sat, an unearthly silence filled the large stone room. The faint sound of a rat could be heard chittering away a short distance nearby. No doubt Chef Roveer would need their services again soon.

Staring daggers at the cambion-turned-tiefling, breaking his gaze only to look at his son with nearly the same steely intensity, Ulder clearly pondered which set of words would leave his mouth.

Finally, the silence broke with an exhale. His gaze softened.

“I am not a man that is good with these sorts of things…”

The tension was broken by the echoing sound of footsteps. A small child’s footsteps.

“Mr. Wyll! Ms. Red! Miss Alfira says you came down here?”

The slightly concerned voice was unmistakable. Yenna, the small child that the pair and their friends had found on the outskirts of Rivington; whose mother was clearly gone and in the interim had become their ward.

“I was trying to get the chef man to let me help in the kitchen but he chased me away!” the child said, somewhat dejectedly.

Cutting off the stare down with Wyll’s father for a moment, the bard rose from her chair and went to intercept the young girl. “Yenna, there you are!” Furiella knelt to the girl’s level. “I know you want to help so bad – and the food you made for us was SO good! But I know we’ve been living here while we help everyone, but right now the Chef is having to run a restaurant to help out and feed all those people in the Elfsong. Remember?”

The girl looked at the bard, absorbing the lesson. “Tell you what? You know Jaheira?”

Interrupting Furiella, Yenna piped up cheerfully with her best, most childish impression. “Nature’s servant awaits.”

Cracking up both Wyll and Furiella – and with even a small grin crossing Ulder’s face – the girl looked towards the couple once more.

“Well, Jaheira’s family has a house in the city. I tell you what. If you promise to be good tonight, and if Gale says you completed the spelling and math lessons I asked him to make for you, tomorrow we’ll go to her kids house – her kids are adults already, she’s SO grown up – and you and Wyll and I will cook for everyone!”

With delight, the child erupted with glee! Jaheira’s garden was ready to provide some absolutely delicious fruit and vegetables, and it would be a good chance to learn outside of a tavern and in a real home and real kitchen.

Looking across the table, Ulder saw Furiella with new eyes. The way she looked at the small human girl with an almost maternal look. He saw the gears turning in Wyll’s eyes as well. A thought process he himself knew well. He had been holding her not just to the standards of a demon but holding her responsible for the actions of others. That wasn’t justice.

Choosing this moment to step in, Duke Ravengard piped up. “I believe I’ve seen enough.”

The mood in the room once more grew tense, with even Yenna noticing the change. Noticing her apprehension, Furiella pulled the child in closer; if Wyll’s father picked this moment, with Yenna present, to hurt Wyll or Yenna or even herself – her tolerance for Ulder’s adjustment period would end. For the first time, the thought of family crossed the bard’s mind. This had become her’s, and no one, not even Wyll’s father, was going to hurt them or show this poor child that’s already lost so much more pain.

“Furiella…When I was in your mind. Saw my son through your eyes. And I saw the way you are with her..”, gesturing towards Yenna, “…just now. You really ARE unlike her, aren’t you?” referencing Mizora.

The bard was unusually quiet, glancing at Wyll and Yenna before returning the duke’s question with a small nod.

Turning towards Wyll, the elder Ravengard continued. “When I was a younger man, during the time I knew your mother, I was privy to seeing the way she looked at me. When this woman looks at you, son, she looks at you with those same eyes. And when we talked about our future together; when she was expecting you. I saw her again in Furiella’s eyes when she was talking with the girl…Yenna, I believe it is.”.

The younger Ravengard’s jaw loosened and his eyes widened.

“I do not agree with your having signed a deal with Mizora to save our city, although had I been in your shoes in the time I believe I might have done the same thing. Another day, another time, and without this worm in my head, we still need to discuss that. But I’ve seen you through her eyes, and I’ve seen her through yours.”

“If the day should come when the two of you decide you wish to make a life together; make a family together” Ulder noted with an almost knowing twist on the ‘if’, “please know that you have my blessing.”

Now her jaw and mouth had gone slightly agape. Blessing?

“I have always talked about wanting to build a Baldur’s Gate for all. I’ve seen the way that Enver Gortash attempts to weaponize hatred and prejudice to control, and I cannot allow my own fears and my own history to cause me to make the same mistakes. I’ve seen the things you’ve given up, the things you’ve embraced, and the courage you’ve shown. If I’m to rebuild it, then that MUST start with my son and his love and all that they call into their lives.” Standing up and walking over towards the others, he placed a hand on Yenna’s shoulder while looking down towards his son and the woman he suspected he would one day soon know as his daughter-in-law. “Remember the four pillars, and remember your love for each other, and nothing on this plane or any other can stand against you – and know that as long as there is breath in my lungs that you are both welcome home in Baldur’s Gate. Yenna, you are always welcome as well. ”

Starting to turn away from the stunned couple and the child in their care, the Duke paused. “Son…I kept a couple of your mother’s recipe books. If you would like, I could have someone back at home who I know to be loyal retrieve them and have them brought here. For the three of you. Perhaps bring a couple of your things as well.”

“I would love that, Father.” Wyll was nearly overcome.

Glancing at the young lovers and their charge one more time, the duke left for upstairs, leaving both adults on the verge of tears and even the young child aware of the emotion of the moment.

Rising to begin to leave the former home base of Balduran himself, the young lovers took hold of one another. Not wanting to make a particularly grown-up display in front of Yenna, the two embraced with him giving her a peck on the cheek.

Pulling away, Furiella stared at Wyll.

“Blessing? Wyll, blessing for what?”

“Don’t worry about it, my love.” Responded back the Blade of Avernus.

As they made to leave, Wyll from the front turned back towards the love of his life.

“Have you ever seen the Wilden Oak? Perhaps we could go there after dinner tomorrow night?”

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ronaldofandom · 1 year

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Bheem & Baby's Day out

Summary: Bheem spends a day out with his 6-month-old son :)

Written for: @talesofthetigerrr

No warnings.

............................................................................

There are a few moments where one has that distinct realization that one’s life is going to change forever, from that moment onwards.

For Bheem, that happened when he became a father. When that tiny being opened his eyes for the first time and tried to grab Bheem’s finger, Bheem felt his heart grow larger with love. When the baby recognized Bheem’s face for the first time and giggled happily when his father returned to the hut, Bheem cried. With sobs and hiccups. Only stopping when the baby picked up on his anguish & became distressed. Bheem wiped his tears then and held his two-week-old son against his chest. Both father & son seeking comfort in each other’s warmth.

His son. For the first month, the words felt alien on his tongue. Or even to his ears. When the elders said that the baby looked just like him or was just as hyperactive as his father, it took some getting used to.

Bheem had always been a happy, content person, despite the circumstances & tragedies which had been a constant in his life. He always saw beauty in small things. As a kid, he could be having the worst day yet chasing after a squirrel the next second. The smell of earth, when it rained, made him giddy. The lush green of leaves in spring, the swarm of colorful fishes in the river, and the early morning sunlight dancing on the water made his heart smile.

So, it’s not that he was unfamiliar with happiness. But no other prior feeling compared to the emotion he felt now. His baby had filled a hole in his heart that he didn’t know existed. He was the apple of his eye, the center of his universe.

Every time Bheem returned to the hut and found his wife & son cooing to each other, time stood still. His wife. His son. His family. His everything. Only, exclusively his. Bheem hadn’t felt that in years, since the death of his parents.

The pregnancy had been hard, as was the delivery. It had taken a while for Jenny to recover. Bheem had been the most thoughtful & caring husband through it all. Jenny had cried multiple times in this period - sometimes due to hormones but most times due to being overwhelmed by his love.

From staying up with her every night she couldn’t sleep from discomfort to holding her hair back during her morning sickness to massaging her swollen feet to dealing with all her mood swings & midnight cravings, Bheem had done it all. Happily. Willingly. With a smile on his face. In fact, he had insisted on being there every step of the way.

And the best husband organically turned into the best father. Bheem had taken up the night duties to tend to their baby since Jenny didn’t get a moment of peace during the day. He only woke her up when he figured the baby was hungry. In all other cases, he handled it himself. Some mornings, Jenny woke up to the sweetest sight, of the baby snuggled into Bheem’s chest, drooling over it, with Bheem’s palms gently enveloping him. She had shed many happy tears on such mornings.

But this morning, she was teary-eyed for a different reason. Jenny & Sita had to step into the nearby town for urgent work, which could not be delayed further. It was the first time the mother would be away from the child for a full day.

She rocked her son in her arms while laying down the instructions for Bheem.

‘I fed him just now, but he will need something every few hours. No solids, just some milk and maybe some dal if he craves salt. There, I have made some without spices.’

She pointed to a container in the kitchen. Bheem nodded obediently.

‘Don’t keep him active all day. He will get tired and can fall sick. Let him have his naps. At least two by the time I am back in the evening.’

Bheem nodded again. His lips curved into a brief smile, but he hid it quickly.

‘He has started to roll. So keep an eye on him at all times. Try to keep a pillow around him if he’s not in his crib. Do not bathe him, he is still recovering from the fever last week. And…’

Bheem hugged her, cutting off the volley of instructions. The boy, still in Jenny’s arms, was cocooned between his parents, and seemed to love the feeling.

‘We will be fine. He is my son too, you know. I got this. Finish your work and come back to us quickly, we will both be waiting for you.’

Jenny hugged both her boys tighter, taking in their scents. When they parted, she placed the baby in his crib and stepped out quickly, before she second guesses herself. Bheem walked her down the road, where Ram & Sita were waiting outside their hut.

The men looked at each other. Bheem nodded at Ram, then pointed in Jenny’s direction. Ram nodded back, assuring Bheem that he will take care of her. Bheem had been nervous about Jenny stepping out without him, but one of them needed to stay with the baby, who got fidgety if away from his parents for long. Ram was the only other person Bheem would trust Jenny’s safety to.

After seeing them off, Bheem came back to the hut and found his son babbling to the wooden tiger that Bheem had carved for him.

‘So, mister, what should we do today, huh? What are you in the mood for?’

The baby threw his toy in Bheem’s face, then clapped with his hands and feet together, earning a giggle from his father.

‘You really are my son, aren’t you? Ok then - we are going to defy your mother and have a day out. How about that?’

‘Ba-ga-da-maaaaaaaa-gooooooo’

‘Great answer. I take that as a yes.’

Bheem packed some necessary things in a basket, dressed the baby appropriately for a day in the sun, and then headed out to the mountain lake.

His son shared Bheem’s love for nature. He loved the sound of birds chirping, the gurgling of the river, and even the thundering clouds. He was a happy, content kid.

At 6 months, he was also at that age now where he had started to interact with his surroundings. On their way, Bheem stopped multiple times because the baby wanted to touch some flowers, pull some bushes and pet some rabbits. The rabbits let both the father & son stray close to their younger ones as if knowing that these two souls would never hurt them. And they seemed to understand the kid’s gibberish, too - communicating with him in all earnestness. As they say, kids have a special language to communicate with animals. Well, his kid certainly did.

When Bheem reached the lake, he camped at the same spot where he had taken Jenny many times. Where they had spent many days together, getting to know each other, falling deeper for one another. In those early days, neither had imagined that their life could turn out to be like this. That they would be blessed with this little bundle of joy who would become the light of their lives. Surely, they had come a long way since then. Bheem smiled at the memories, and the baby looked at him quizzically.

‘Little one, are you hungry yet?’

The baby ignored him stoically, too immersed in the new surroundings now. Looking at the sky was one of his favorite things, so he forgot about his father's existence for a few moments.

Bheem fed him the dal nonetheless. He had recently switched from breastfeeding to other foods and was usually very jumpy if anyone other than Jenny fed him. But right now, he was too busy chasing the cloud patterns in the sky, and Bheem capitalized on that moment.

Once fed, the kid had even more energy. It didn’t look like he was going to go down for a nap anytime soon. So Bheem sat down on the edge of the lake, immersing his legs in the water, with his son on his lap.

The baby tried to touch the water with his feet, but Bheem had kept him at some elevation in his lap. He tried a few times, but came up short every time, wagging his feet fruitlessly. His father was very amused. The baby didn’t give up; he was Bheem’s son, after all. He tried to maneuver himself in Bheem’s lap and attempted to dive head-first into the water. Bheem laughed out loud but held him back.

The baby protested, screaming loudly, and throwing a fit.

‘Heyy, not my fault ok. Your mother asked to keep you away from the water. She will kill me if she finds out. Is that what you want?’

His son was unimpressed. Not buying his father’s argument. He pouted, and Bheem saw his mini-me in that puppy face. He caved instantly.

‘Ok fine. Just a little bit.’

Bheem dipped his tiny toes in the water and was rewarded with the most angelic giggle in the world. Bheem splashed tiny droplets in the baby’s face, careful not to wet his clothes. If ever there was a happy baby, this was it. The child looked so content, so blissed out. He rolled in his father’s lap and tapped at Bheem’s face with his tiny, stubby fingers, expressing his immense pleasure.

The frolicking had started to wear him out, too, thankfully. Bheem stayed lake-side, letting the kid spot the fishes near the shore and calling out to them.

Looking at the kid in his arms, he wondered if he brought the same joy to his parents when he was born. If they also brought him here. If they also played with him the same way. If their world also revolved around him. If they also prayed for the world to be a better place, for the sake of their son.

Because Bheem hadn’t been able to shake that thought since his son was born. The world in general, and their world in particular, was cruel. And brutal. And merciless. Bheem had vowed to work tirelessly to do his bit for the country and the tribal communities, so his son could hopefully grow up in a better world. He was willing to lay down his life if his son could have a better life. At the same time, he wanted to cheat death and live longer, selfishly, to be able to spend more time with his kid. The thought tormented him every day.

He was broken out of his reverie when he felt the baby swaying in his arms. Bheem cradled his son against his chest and lightly tapped at his back.

‘Chinna - you don’t have to follow in my footsteps. You don’t need to take on my responsibilities. You can be whoever you want to be. I will do the best I can to make it happen.’

The villagers had already started telling Bheem that his heir had come. That the kid would take over as protector like Bheem had taken over from his father. Bheem had understood the logic of it - it was rational to expect his son to have some of his physical and other abilities, not just as a protector but as a healer too. However, the thought bothered him a tiny bit. Bheem never had a choice in deciding his future. Was the same fate in store for his newborn too? A kid - who couldn’t even walk right now - was he already destined to lead the community just because he was Bheem’s son? How was it fair? But then, the world wasn’t really fair, not for them, at least.

The baby had started fussing now. Jenny always put him down for his naps during the day. Bheem could tell he was starting to miss his mother, from the way he whipped his tiny head around everywhere, searching for her comforting smile.

‘Shhhh, I know, sweetheart. I miss her too. But she will be back by the time you wake up, promise.’

Bheem tapped at his son’s back but the kid was having none of it. He wanted his mother, now.

‘Oh, so you wanna be a mumma’s boy, huh?’

Bheem bounced him in his arms, trying to smile at him. But the baby started to cry. And Bheem resorted to the only thing that worked for him when his son was this fussy.

He sang to him. The same song that he sang to Malli in that palace. The same familiar tune, which Malli also sang to the kid every day. His favorite lullaby.

And the baby started to calm down, relaxing his movements. Bheem walked around the shore, and the cool breeze worked wonders on the kid. Bheem could tell he would fall asleep any moment.

‘Chinna - you will take care of your mother if something happens to me, right? I know you will. I know you love her as much as I do. She is strong, and has become even stronger since she has been here. But I worry if she would even remember how to breathe if something happens to….’

Bheem held on to his son tighter.

‘If something happens to me. She will carry on for you. She will be brave for you. But it’s your responsibility to make sure she doesn’t just survive, but she is happy too. You will do that for your old man, right?’

The kid had passed out by now on his father’s shoulder. Bheem could feel the drool forming over his kurta. He smiled a bitter-sweet smile and laid him down gently on a sheet he had spread out over the grass.

Bheem leaned back against a tree and just watched that tiny sleeping face. He looked so peaceful. Completely oblivious to the world’s struggles. Bheem vowed to keep it that way, till it was possible.

He could watch that angelic face for hours. In fact, he did that often when he woke up at night to tend to his son and couldn’t sleep afterward. He had spent many nights sitting by the crib he had made for his son, just listening to his tiny snores and light breaths. As if he was still working on believing that the baby was real. That he was his.

He lay next to the kid, turning on his side to face him. Tracing his and Jenny’s features on the baby was one of Bheem’s favorite things. His son definitely had his big eyes and his chubby cheeks. But he had Jenny’s nose and sweet pink lips.

Bheem smiled as to how he wanted a girl initially, a replica of Jenny. He had prayed for a girl. But Jenny was sure she was carrying a boy, that she was bringing a mini-Bheem into the world. At the time of delivery, Jenny had smirked at Bheem that she had told him so. And Bheem conceded defeat. Happily.

Because the result was as precious as his son. Even when Bheem is gone, there will be a part of him left in this world. His son. His replica. His blood. A piece of his heart. In fact, his whole heart. There is nothing he wouldn’t do for his son. No limits he wouldn’t cross for his well-being. In that moment, Bheem became a kid again and looked up at the sky, praying to his parents to take care of their grand-kid, should anything happen to him. The clouds thundered, and he knew his parents had heard him. Bheem closed his eyes, knowing he could rest peacefully now, at least for a bit.

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I had meant to write fluff, but lost my way somewhere and went into feels. Hope you guys liked it. As always, would love to know your thoughts :)

@irisesforyoureyes @rambheem-is-real @thewinchestergirl1208 @eremin0109 @eenadu-varthalu @rorapostsbl @yehsahihai @budugu @maraudersbitchesassemble @justmeand-myinsight @rambheemisgoated @rosayounan @jrntrtitties @obsessedtoafault @rambheemlove @jjwolfesworld @alikokinav @iam-siriuslysher-lokid @bromance-minus-the-b @dumdaradumdaradum @lovingperfectionwonderland @annieginny @chaanv @ssabriel @milla984 @kaagazkefool @boochhaan @mesimpleone @filesbeorganized @ladydarkey @teddybat24 @stanleykubricks @burningsheepcrown @veteran-fanperson @ronika-writes-stuff @beingmes-blog @yonderghostshistories @nisreenart @chaidrivenwhore @bheemaxrama @carminavulcana @umbrulla @mizutaama @rosefulmadness @gifseafins @fangirlshrewt97 @astrafangs @sada-siva-sanyaasi @voidsteffy

#talesofthetigerrr #rrr #bheem #ntr jr #jr ntr #love #tarak #bheem rrr #komuram bheem #charan #rrr fanfic #rambheem #bheemjenny #charak #jenny #ram #tigerrr2023

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gracehosborn · 1 month

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Find The Word Tag

Thank you to @athenswrites for the tag! Even if its a month or so late!

Rules: find excerpts from your work(s)-in-progress with the given words, then tag some friends to play along.

My words: Seed, Glass, Contain(er), and Hands. Your words: Run(ing), blood, clear, and realization.

Softly tagging, with no pressure: @kaylinalexanderbooks @meerawrites @queerfox-tales @thestarsfightagainstusmyfriend @sunset-a-story

Excerpts are under the cut! They feature:

Hamilton being angsty over some seeds in TAI.

Two excerpts from IOD! Alex gets her hair cut with a sword, and punches a guy in the nose.

From TAI, Hamilton receiving some exciting news during a morning drill with his militia.

Seed

From The American Icarus: Volume I:

I chuckled and shrugged my shoulders, “Uncle, I am no gardener.” “A little dirt will not hurt you.” Taking hold of my hand, my uncle pulled me to sit next to him, pressing with his other hand a single seed into my free one. For being a merchant, he does know how to garden well. Looking down at the lone seed then in my hand, I noted its small size; how it was destined to by those most logical rules of nature grow into a large, towering, and beautiful tree. Yet if only planted into the dirt before me, upon that island. There would be nowhere else for the little seed to grow and find its place—that island was its place, and that such fact would be known in my implanting it into the dirt just below it. You are only confused because you have more than one path unlike this seed. Why are you analogizing a seed? Just… figure something out—but what? Why? What purpose would my choices have? Legacy, what does that really matter? Mama is… dead… nothing is to change that—but trying would at least—ugh! I let the seed fall at a speed possibly too fast into the dirt as a murmur escaped me, “I hate being indecisive.” Not hearing my murmur, but seeing my treatment of his seed, my uncle turned towards me, attending me with a expression of surprise. “What did the poor seedling do to you, dear child?” Reopen doors which I have not an idea of what to do with and of which cause me great confusion simply due to my being in a position which gives little opportunity to walk through them. “Nothing… sorry.” “’Tis alright, she’s just a seed—a beautiful tree will come no matter how hard you threw it into its dirt.” “Indeed, but it had to be this dirt?” Without much thought, I gestured towards the said dirt with the hand which had released the seed; it then unseen underneath the brown specks. Uncle James’ blue eyes shewed much confusion, “What is the matter with the dirt? You just said to me you’re no gardener, yet why is it you’re complaining about dirt? You get your hands dirty working for Mr. Cruger, do you not?” Glancing away from my uncle, I sighed, the entertainment of those most interesting of passerby not as such in that moment. I was grateful for my job, and the life thereat I had lived, but particulars of the whole left me in a state of boundless confusion. My mother had only come to that island on account of my father’s business then as a sailor whom had in reasons I alongside many are still left to speculate, this having left my mother to raise her two children alone with aid of her family at which point she had died, leaving those said children otherwise orphaned and a family history tainted in scandal, fear and cover from the law, and known to all—even those whose knowledge of it was a national curse. All these particulars considered on the whole left me to question my very reasonings to having thought of them. I was at a fork in the road—continue to trek onward and stay where I was in security albeit really very little, or be one Orpheus and turn; changing everything with a most simple action in theory.

Glass

From Ink of Destruction:

Then my composure shattered like falling glass. My bones flared with anger as my eyes grew dark, becoming ablaze with wrath that seemed to burst out like a clown jumping out of a sewer. I could feel my feet guiding my body forward and my arm moving back as though it were a slingshot. Without a word, I punched Aiden Edwards square in the nose. Hearing a loud crack as I pulled away, I couldn’t help but feel the smallest bit of pride in my anger. Backing away with a cry of agony, Aiden reached for his nose, clutching his face in his hands as he felt for the blood that was now trickling down his cheeks. “What the hell was that for? You fucking broke my nose!?” he cried as he attempted to tend to the injury. "Oh, you should know what it was for, Aiden,” I said, feeling the sternness in my voice return. Before he could respond, I turned towards Jess, who immediately took a step back, feeling the full force of the wrath in my gaze. A part of my mind felt as though the action were justified, for Jess had betrayed me, or rather, she had been against me this whole time. A spy.

Contain

From The American Icarus: Volume I:

“You may all be relieved of your duties for today,” began he. “Good work today—thank you for not causing a racket. Pick up your target boards—bring them to Lieutenant Jay here.” As many a “Yes, sir!” filled the air, I returned to my right, walking towards the wooden board I had been left to use moments before. At last closing the distance of some yards, my hand wrapped around the top of the thick oak, it pressing firmly against my skin. Able to clearly see the damage done upon it by me, I noted the large clean-cut gashes, placed fairly close together, the three each having carved a hole. Upon the grass behind, in shadow of the secondary wooden piece propping the main board up, wood shavings covered the space; the balls of lead somewhere in the grass far beyond. Keeping the board steady within my grasp, as to not harm myself by way of the loose pieces, I turned in the direction of the chapel. A soreness began to rise upon my upper back as the board and my musket knocked on occasion my sides in my hurried walking, pushing me to grunt in frustration. If not for the barrel of the musket still hot and in need of cleaning, I would have slung her upon my back in quickening my pace. The wood of her barrel grazed my shoulder with the brush of a close fire, intense such that as I at last met Lieutenant Jay’s gaze I flinched. “Careful—here, I’ll take it.” Before I could register the action, Fredrick took hold of my board, pulling it out of my grasp. With a clatter, he dropped it into the growing pile just to his left near the chapel wall before turning back towards me. “Thank you—“ “Impressive work there, with that demonstration. Sorry they needed it, but you have proven yourself very equipped. That reminds me….” Turning his attention to the pocket of his coat, Fredrick retrieved with a swift movement the envelope I had seen in his care some time prior. “This arrived by Colonel McDougall from my brother whilst you were with your group. I know not what the pages inside contain.” He replied to my—well of course he would have considering that is what I wanted to make him do. I actually managed to get an intended reply…. Taking the envelope outstretched towards me, my fingers gripped the folded parchment with firmness, driven not to tear the wax seal only by the publicity of the circumstances surrounding me. My chest rose with a slowness as in gathering myself I took a long breath. Carefully, I slipped the envelope into the left pocket of my coat, glancing up at my superior officer once more at the quiet thud of the parchment against the wool fabric. “Thank you, sir.” Giving a smile polite, I began to take my leave, but not before Fredrick attempted to grab my shoulder. A short gasp escaping me, I turned my head so as to face him once more. “Sir?” “You did not hear this from me,” he began, his voice lowering close to a whisper, “but I did hear that McDougall and Jay have been talking of you—there has been rumor spreading that the Provincial Congress might raise a new company to be led by an appointment.” Shock gripped to my expression and countenance, pushing my eyes to widen and mouth to open slightly. “Are you suggesting—“ “Yes.” “What?” In keeping pace with Fredrick’s quiet, my voice was pushed out forcibly, unable to be withheld by the shock consuming me. A smirk took up my friend’s expression as he lifted a finger to his lips in silent request. Releasing his hand from my shoulder, he gave a quick nod before turning towards the man newly arrived with another of the wooden boards used during the drill. Sensing another man suddenly behind myself, I stepped to my far left and away from Lieutenant Jay in an attempt to be out of the way as my heart began to race.

Hands

From Ink of Destruction:

“Now that the rope is cut, you should be able to get your hands out quite easily. But yes, I will make that attempt.” At his words, the loosened pressure around my wrists became more noticable. Lifting my fingers inward, I managed to find a hole in the center of the knot. Inhaling, I pulled my right hand away and up, carefully squeezing my fingers between the ropes and the cement pole. A sigh of relief escaped me as my free hand tugged at the rope, and the sound of the knot meeting the wooden floor filled my ears. Lowering my hands to my sides, I gently rubbed my wrists against the inner lining of my jacket’s sleeves, feelling a soreness race down my arms. Blinking, I stared towards Mr. Waiter, feeling words come out of my mouth before I could stop them. “Are you certain that you haven’t done any formal historical research? Or did you lie to me? It’s clear you are not an amateur with that sword.” My voice held an even tone, for I was more curious than angry. A look of realization filled Mr. Waiter’s face, and I could see sprinkles of what appeared to be mischeif in his eyes. “You would know if I were lying to you. I am notoriously a bad lair. And if I were to mess with you, that would be even more obvious. As historians, or those who claim themselves historians, could tell you. I am not a historian myself. Rather, a subject of interest for many in the profession.” Shock and disbelief filled my veins as I took in his words. If historians had written about him, then surely I should have recognized him. His omission of what had caused him to drop out of college must have been something that would have drawn too much attention to him for him to have wanted to mention it inside the resturant. Further, the fact that he had not said his name indicated to me that I may not believe him. As I opened my mouth, the man rose his hand up to stop me. “Turn around so that I might try to fix your hair. Then you can continue.” Nodding, I turned to face the white pole as questions swirled with a fury in my mind. Coming to stand behind me, Mr Waiter gently grabbed towards the center of my hair, slowly lifting the now-uneven strands above my head. Gravity forced the last few inches of the longer portions to fall in front of my eyes, and I was certain against Mr. Waiter’s fist. Hearing the clang of the sword against the wood, I took a deep breath, steadying my posture. “This may be shorter than you wish,” Mr. Waiter said, “but if I held it otherwise, there would be a greater risk of ripping your roots out. And I am sure you don’t want to wear a wig.” Without another word, the man raised his hand, and the sharp swoosh of his blade filled the room. Clumps of hair flew to the floor with soft taps as the metal was struck for a second, and third time. The sounds brought me back to my freshman world history class, where we had watched a number of films exploring different cultures. As a treat towards the end of the unit, Disney’s Mulan had been shown. It was clear to me now how the strengths of animation had made the character’s famed haircut with her own sword seem so easy. Lenna would have surely reasoned that Mulan simply had thin hair, with the benefit of straight strands. At the thought, worry caught in my throat at how much time had passed. She had most likely gotten a cab, I told myself, but knowing Lenna, she would not have strayed far. “There.” With a sigh of relief, Mr. Waiter at last lowered the centuries’ old weapon after a final swing, stepping back towards his former post. As my hair fell back down, I could hear him mutter under his breath: “I never imagined I would use my training in such a manner.”

#find the word #my wips #the american icarus #TAI #ink of destruction #IOD #amrev #ya fantasy #historical fiction #alexander hamilton #writers on tumblr #amwriting #writing community #writer things #writeblr #alternate history #alternative history #writing excerpts #writing snippets

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