#but then wondered if perhaps that would be a little much

[myfanfic-urfantrash]

i have headcanons for pregnant betas in ABO

During pregnancy a beta insttead of nesting they hide and aislate themselves,they also would try to hide it from his/her couple as long as they can and often feel depressed and insecure wonder if they alpha/Omega would reject them and the pup

So how would be HSR men when beta s/o starts to act like that and after research they find beta is pregnant and tried to hide it from them?

What an interesting headcanon! I'd love to read more of your headcanons you have for betas if you want to share :3

I made the guys alphas(though it's not exactly mentioned) because omegas getting other dynamics pregnant is pretty much unheard of though I'd probably make a whole separate post exploring that in the future idk

cw: omegaverse, pregnancy

Aventurine

It's been some time since he and his beta have spent some time together partially due to his work and theirs so he doesn't notice his beta withdrawing from him at first.

He'll figure that them isolating themselves in their bedroom every so often when they get home is just a way for them to self soothe themselves from irritating coworkers and frustrating clients. He understands so be doesn't push and goes on his way though he might try to join them but if they seem a bit too irritated with him he'll back off.

Aventurine is observant though and will pick up on how their behavior worsens day by day with them isolating themselves more often than not as well as how their shoulders sag when they think they're alone making them look smaller.

He does a bit of digging to try and figure out just what is making the love of his life so upset. But he finds it even more suspicious that he finds nothing wrong with their life. Their boss isn't mistreating them, they're eating their meals(perhaps a little more than usual but hey if you're hungry you're hungry), they sleep(much more than usual but it makes sense they work late hours) and they do greet him when he comes home(though they have been avoiding his hugs around their belly lately).

But it clicks in his head eating more, sleeping more, rejecting his hugs around their belly...just the possibility of them being pregnant leaves him feeling dizzy, giddy, yet also melancholic at the same time. So he does a little research on beta pregnancies and the more he reads the more things match up the stronger those feelings become.

Later that day when he finds his beta he'll let them know he's aware of their pregnancy and that while he's sad they hid it from him he's happy. He'll spend his time reassuring his beta that he does want them and that he wants their pups too. He doesn't know if he'd be a good father but he'd try.

Blade

His schedule is practically nonexistent one month he'll be free of work and then the next six he'll be working nonstop so it's very likely he wouldn't notice his beta mates behavior change unless it was during some of his off times. The other Stellaron Hunters, if they spend any amount of time with his mate, may notice but if they don't they won't be much help in him figuring out his mate is pregnant. There's also whether or not his beta mate is also a Stellaron Hunter or not or just a civilian living their life separate from them.

So out of all of these men Blade would likely not figure out his beta mate was pregnant unless he or his coworkers are around the to notice their changes or until they were far enough in the pregnancy to start showing when he meets them again.

If he's around them for a while and he notices their change of behavior and eating habits he will ask them right away if something is wrong and will call their lie if they try to say it's nothing. He'll out right ask if they're pregnant if they say they aren't sick and or injured as that's really the only other thing he could think of that could make them behave so differently.

Honestly surprised when they go quiet and just nod their head when he asks them again. He never planned to be a father, well he certainly never planned to have a mate either so he's more than shocked to say the least. A part of him is happy but a part of him is also just melancholic.

Will just hold his mate in his arms for a while as everything sinks in and they try to calm down. If his mate wants to keep the baby he won't object but he truly doesn't know how to be a father though he will do his best to support them.

Jing Yuan

Another one that is often too busy but unlike Aventurine he notices them distancing themselves from him much faster. At first he'll believe that they might just be having an off day so he doesn't press it but when he notices it happening more often than not that's when he steps in and confronts them.

He'll ask them if they've been alright and if there's anything they might be worried about and that they can come to him. He almost gets them to talk because he's so nonjudgmental and willing to hear them out but they back out because of their own worries. He doesn't press it again but makes note that they're hiding something from him that obviously makes them hesitant.

His first thought to their hesitation is that they might be in danger of some sorts and does some investigating just to make sure that's not the case as their safety is his priority. But his thoughts change when he notices them getting a little ill around certain smells and eating large meals less but snacking more while they hide out in the quietest part of the garden of their home.

Now he's not one to jump to conclusions so fast so instead he asks Lady Bailu about their behavior and symptoms and she pretty much confirms they're pregnant right then and there though she will have to perform an examination just to be sure and sends him on his way telling him to brew them some ginger tea to soothe their upset stomach.

Jing Yuan brews the tea and offers it to them with a light snack letting them know that he's aware they may be pregnant and that while he's a little saddened they felt the need to hide such a thing from him he's more than happy to have pups with them. Spends the next few hours just comforting and cuddling his mate until they've calmed down and they tell him they'll see Lady Bailu tomorrow for an official exam.

Dan Heng

Out of everyone he'd know his mate is pregnant the fastest as he doesn't exactly leave his beta mates side once they become mates. He and his mate aren't separated for missions or anything unless they absolutely have to be so he'll know if they start acting weird.

Does give his mate some privacy when they want some alone time but does become suspicious he might have done something wrong since they keep avoiding him. It frustrates him but he lets them do it.

Looks up some data from the archives about Beta behaviors just so he can confirm if he's doing something wrong to upset them. He doesn't think about if the section about Beta pregnancy behaviors will be useful to their situation but he reads it anyways for future reference. But the more he reads the more and more things start to make sense and he is silently jumping for joy while simultaneously screaming into the void because this shouldn't be even possible in the first place.

While Vidyadharas can certainly have dynamics like most other races they're pretty much infertile as there are no records of their kind producing offspring within their own race or outside. And while his mind does jump to the possibility that his mate might have gotten pregnant by someone else he pushes that idea out of his head because he's been by their side consistently and he knows they wouldn't cheat on him.

He's pretty overwhelmed by the possibility but does his best to calmly ask his mate if they are pregnant and reassures them that he's not mad or anything just worried and even scared for them and their pup. Encourages his mate to see Lady Bailu just to confirm everything and to ensure they do have a smooth pregnancy should they decide to keep the pup.

[peanutpinet]

Im really loving your sylus x innocent mc stories!! I was wondering what if Innocent Mc is sick or gotten hurt while Sylus is in the middle of a business deal, and when he finds out, he immediately leaves to go take care of mc. 🥺💖

Healer - Sylus x Sick Innocent Fem Reader

A/N: hi anon, thank you for being patient!! I have a lil something for you and for everyone especially with the 3.0 update! I won't spill anything so I hope you all enjoy reading this little fic and thank you for reading!

Disclaimer: I do not own the images nor the characters or you (the MC). All images were taken from Pinterest and credit goes to the image's respective owners.

Warnings: threatening, blood

If Sylus could just kill everyone in the room and be done for the day, he would. But unfortunately, there was nothing that was reasonable enough to do so.

Luke and Kieran told him about “highly” businessman that wanted to make a deal regarding the protocores Sylus had. Saying that he’s willing to invest in the business that Sylus had going around if he were to be given a fraction of Sylus’ protocore collection. Of course, Sylus knew what this man specifically wanted. As much as he wants this to end quickly to get to you, Sylus loves to make his victims pretend that they got the upper hand before he turn the tables.

But the more this meeting drags on, Sylus realised something. You didn’t text him at all today. You just told him that you had to go into town for some errands but that was at 8am while it was already 5pm and there had been none information regarding you for the past 9 hours which is unheard of throughout your relationship with Sylus since the beginning.

Though Sylus already sent the twins and mephisto to look for you, he was still restless. Sylus tries to think of all other more “reasonable” scenarios. Maybe you forgot to bring your charger and your phone died in the middle of the day. Maybe you were at a friend’s place and you left your phone on do not disturb or perhaps…

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a bad feeling when he heard the twins chatter loudly when he was at the end of the hall in the meeting room.

Without thinking, Sylus bolted out of the meeting room, immediately telling the business partner he’ll rearrange another meeting. When his business partner was threatening him, Sylus didn’t hesitate to point his gun at them. “Accept my offer to reschedule while I’m being sane unless you want me to expose all of your dirty little secrets to the world? I’m sure with how the taxes to everything increasing, it’s going to be hard to get the materials you need without my help”

Luckily, his business partner held both his hands up in defeat, making Sylus smirked. “Wise decision”. Sylus signalled his other men to handle his business partner and his men while he went to see what happened to you.

Sylus knew that no matter what, Luke and Kieran would always bring you back to your shared bedroom. It was practically a sacred place for the both of you. A safe haven, a place where the two of you can be yourself, took care one another, and spend time to be with each other.

Sylus felt the walk down the hall back to his shared bedroom felt further than usual. Halfway through the hallways, Mephisto perched itself on Sylus’ shoulder, cawing at its owner as if it was trying to give Sylus a heads up.

However, before Mephisto could show Sylus anything, the door to his shared room with you was opened and it revealed Luke and Kieran who looked worried despite the masks they wore. “Boss…” the twins let out a soft sigh of relief seeing Sylus came.

“Care to fill me in on what happened?” Sylus questioned his two most trusted men, knowing that these twins cared for you just as much as he did (Sylus definitely still cared for you the most)

“There was blood, boss” Kieran started, and it sent chills throughout Sylus’ body. “Yeah. We didn’t know how it happened. When you told us to find the miss, we didn’t expect there’d be blood” Luke added on

“She also started moving in a dizzy way” Kieran pointed out “She almost fainted when we brought her back. We don’t know how to help stop the bleeding” Luke added on more and by now Sylus couldn’t take it and barged into the room, leaving the twins in the hallway

“Sweetie?!” Sylus called out to you and hearing your groan, he immediately went to the bed, seeing you bundled under layers of bed covers and blanket “It hurts sy…” you whimpered and Sylus didn’t waste time to get into bed and pulled you to him. “Tell me what happened, where does it hurt? How much blood did you lose?”

Sylus gently stroke your head, kissing your forehead and allowing you to snuggled closer to his large body. “J-just, just like every other month”

It was then Sylus realised what actually happened and immediately checked his phone. Noticing the reminder, Sylus let out an annoyed sigh “Those twins…they almost made me pull my heart out”

“Sy…” you mumbled and Sylus snapped back at your weaken self

“I know sweetie. I know. You lay back down yeah? I’ll have the chef immediately cook you some warm soup and I’ll bring painkillers” Sylus gently laid you back, pulling up the layers of blanket to keep you warm, kissing your forehead again

“Are you angry?” you managed to asked despite your weak state

“You had me worried a bit but I can never be angry at you, sweetie. What happened to your phone though?” Sylus asked

“I forgot to charge it last night and was only 15% left when I went out. M’sorry” you mumbled, trying to sleep while Sylus shook his head, caressing your cheek

“I understand sweetie. You were out of it since last night. I’m sorry I didn’t notice. I’ll help make sure that your phone is always charged but for now, you try to rest a bit more while I get you some warm soup and painkillers along with your favorite sweets then I’ll cuddle you until you’re better”

Sylus placed one last gentle kiss on your forehead before leaving the room to get the things he said he would get.

“So?! Did you manage to stop the bleeding boss?” Luke asked

“If he looked calmer now, everything must be okay with the miss, right?” Kieran asked as well

Sylus stopped in his tracks before giving the twins a side glare. “You two, my office now. Once I’m back, I’ll make sure the two of you are educated and understand the human anatomy of a woman and her struggles of bleeding every single month”

The twins had never seen their boss looked so serious and menacing towards them which meant they had made a grave mistake. “W-what do you mean boss?” the twins asked as Sylus turned around, his aether core was practically glowing a crimson red colour. “She was on her damn period yet the two of you made it sound like she was bleeding to death! I swear if any of you give me this kind of heart attack again, I’ll have to start cutting your allowances”

The twins rushed to Sylus’ office in fear and started to look up about period, educating themselves everything about it while Sylus took care of you. It’s safe to say that by the next crack of dawn, the twins would understand more about periods and how they could help you if it happened again when Sylus wasn’t around.

A/N: yup, was about periods LMAO

[slaytheusurper]

⭑ Patience is a Virtue ⭑ (Domina Mea, Chapter Four)

Masterlist

A/N: Smut finally! We all chant in unison

Pairing: Geta & Caracalla x F!Noble!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, +18 MDNI, Macrinus is a rat fr, tensions rise, both the Emperors patience snaps, teasing, dirty talk, caressing, masturbation (M), making out, oral (f receiving), nipple sucking/breast sucking kink, pure infiltered want, caracalla being upset and pouty :(

Summary: Tension rises as you carry the heavy burden, when you tell the Emperors, they reward you for your good behavior.

Word count: 2.7k

A tingly feeling had spread across your skin, face still painted with a reddish hue, all evidence of the wine you had consumed an meager hour ago. Your eyes felt glossy as you stared at the Praetorians marching over to you, Macrinus was still posted at your side. Nerves and impatience knotted in your stomach, the information you had retrieved tonight was sensitive and you wanted to inform the Emperors immediately.    

“My Lady, come with us, we have been searching for you.” A taller Praetorian said, before he was joined by six others, all were ordered to take you to the palace. The fresh cooler wind of the night cleared your head a bit, something you were quite grateful for. The wine had been so potent, and as it had been your first and only cup, it had a strong effect on you. Macrinus followed you as you were escorted by the guards to Palatine Hill, not speaking a word along the way.

The thought of what you were about to tell the Emperors made your skin cover in goosebumps, you had no idea how they would react to this information, this insurrection. But you knew you had no choice but to tell them, it was your goal after all. From the start Macrinus had been off putting, a little too kind and serving. Now you know why, it was all to gain their trust, to distract them with a new toy so he could manipulate them. You just hoped that Macrinus fell for your trap. 

Upon arrival at the hall near the throne room it was eerily silent, and for a moment you wondered if anyone was there. However when you turned the corner, you were met with those four pairs of familiar eyes. “Where have you been?!” Your father stressed while he walked towards you with long strides, arms open to hold you close. “I’m so sorry-” Your voice got muffled when your face met his shoulder. 

“It’s all right, I was so afraid, but you’re safe- you’re safe.” Acacius whispered, his strong arms almost squeezing the life out of you. “I forgive you- for everything, just please don’t ever just leave again.” He continued. “I promise, I won’t.” You vowed, tears stinging your eyes. Mind now clear, you realised how stupid it had been, to just leave like that. But mistakes were made and now all that could be done is to forgive. 

“She had sought me out, General. For advice, although, perhaps next time it would be better done accompanied- and during the day.” Macrinus spoke up, stepping closer to the Emperors before bowing. “Daughter.” Lucilla murmured before embracing you as well. When she let you go, it was then you noticed the state of the Emperors. 

Geta’s hair was messier, his robes as well, his makeup smeared and distraught. Caracalla did not look much different, both looked like they had been fighting. “Your majesties, I beg for your forgiveness. For just... leaving and not saying a word. I hope you too, can forgive me.” You pleaded, curtseying lowly. “Everyone out.” Geta ordered, he didn’t yell this time. No one opposed him as they all quietly left the room, leaving you with the twins.

“Did- did you try to escape? Our company?” Caracalla croaked. Immediately you rose, “No! No, not at all!” Your voice rose as well while you hurried over to them. “No?” Geta asked, he was clearly not very convinced. “No please, it is nothing like that.” You begged, accidentally getting closer to them then would be considered appropriate. “Then what? Why would you just leave us like that? We had a thousand Praetorians searching for you, we thought that you had been taken- or worse, killed!” Caracalla yelled, his voice breaking more with each word. 

“I cannot speak about it here, I don’t think. It is very sensitive information, where would the most secure and private room here be? Caesar?” You spoke with widened eyes. Geta looked at you as if you had gone as mad as his brother, perhaps he had infected you. “What are you talking about? Have you lost your mind?” Geta scoffed. You could feel defeat wash over you but you knew that for the sake of the Emperors, you had to push them.

“Please, Caesar, trust me.” You had a feeling you would be begging even more tonight, but if that was what it took, you would. Caracalla nodded at his brother, Geta looked from his twin to you, and your pretty pleading eyes- and gave in. They did not tell you where you were going, but as you passed doors and wandered through hallways, you could guess. The decorations turned more and more expensive and grand with every step. 

The hallway that led to a dead end was riddled with guards. There was one large gold double door that was opened for the Emperors, you behind them. As you stepped inside, the large bed chamber must belong to Geta, it was neat, organised and a large four-posted bed stood in the middle of the room, all kinds of fabric adorned it. Geta gestured for you to join them in the sitting area of the room, they each sat in a large cushioned chair, while you settled on a settee that matched them. 

“Speak.” Geta said a little too cold and curt for your liking. “The reason why I left so abruptly was not only because of the fight I had with my father, but also because I had to follow my gut. So I followed Macrinus to his estate. And I know it was stupid and ill considered but I was right. From the moment I met him, something about him seemed so sinister and so off putting. So when I had successfully followed him inside, there was a man visiting him. They talked about some plan Macrinus has, a plan to one day rule Rome- he did not give specific details as he didn’t want to involve the man, but he has definitely been plotting.” You rambled as the memories came back to you. 

Geta and Caracalla were speechless, both stared at you intensely. “However, on my way out. I ran into guards, so I lied to them that I was seeking advice from Macrinus so he wouldn’t suspect anything, hopefully that worked-” Geta suddenly interrupted you. “What kind of advice did you speak of?” He asked with narrowed eyes. “A-about you, Caesar. Both of you, I uhm...sort of told him or rather asked him how I could- charm you? All to make him believe that I was there for that of course, to make him think I’m just...a girl with an affection for the Emperors.” You mumbled, it was clear your face was flushing red again.

“Hm.” Was Geta’s only response. Caracalla bit his lower lip. As if they hadn’t heard you talk about the treason you had discovered. “What will happen to him now?” You decided to ask, breaking the ever growing silence. “I want to make sure that I have multiple sources that can confirm...some sort of conspiracy being formed.” Geta spoke while he ran a hand through his hair. “Exactly, for now, we might reward you. For your loyalty and devotion to your Emperors.” Caracalla added.

“I just wish to serve the empire- and my Emperors of course.” You smiled, adjusting the bracelet on your wrist. You were slightly afraid to look at them, even though you wanted to know so badly how they would reward you- how they would maybe touch you. “What do you think, brother?” Caracalla asked, looking to his side. “I agree, you are so very devoted, and you have our ear, and trust. For that we must thank you.” Geta grinned. 

Your heart sped up as Geta then stood from his seat, walking over to you. Caracalla was quick to join him, afraid of missing out. “Has a man ever kissed you?” Geta asked with a lowered voice. “Well yes,” You answered, the brothers both sucked in a breath, trying to hold in their anger, “on my hand. Is...that what you mean?” They almost both released it at the same time too before Caracalla laughed. “No, not quite.” Geta smiled. 

“Let me show you, show you how good we can make you feel.” Caracalla breathed heavily, each word dripping with want. Geta licked his lips, his stare was captivating but terrifying at the same time. You nodded at his words, you could feel your skin grow hot, breathing feeling more laboured. It was then Caracalla lost all resolve and surged forward, pressing his lips hard against yours. His tongue then forced open your lips and you couldn’t help but moan in both surprise and desire. 

Geta joined you on your side, letting his hand roam your body before settling on your breast. Caracalla put one of his hands at the back of your neck to keep you in place while he moved his tongue inside your mouth, he couldn’t help but let out groans of relief. Finally they had you alone, and finally they could take what they wanted. It was then you felt Geta’s mouth in your neck, his warm tongue licking your skin. His mouth sucking the flesh from time to time. 

Caracalla then was forced to come up for air, to which he pawed at your toga. You noticed how he now had a bulge at his groin and wondered if that was because of his excitement. Geta helped his brother with your clothes, unclasping it at the middle while Caracalla worked on the clasps at your shoulders. “What are you going to do?” You almost whimpered out, you still felt the need to know their next moves.

“Geta is going to make you feel very very good, for everything you’ve done for us. And then- perhaps you can make us feel good too. Would you like that?” Caracalla almost heaved out, finally he had undone the clasps and his hand was quick to tug down your toga to reveal your bare chest. Nipples hardening at the cool air that blew through the room. “Fuck.” Caracalla whined. “Gods I need to taste you-” Geta rushed out before he slid off the settee and knelt before you, forcing Caracalla to sit at your other side. 

Lust completely overtook your senses and all you could think about was them, more importantly their hands on you, what they looked like bare and what they would do next. “Please- I want more-” You confessed, forgetting all your manners. Geta chuckled lowly as he spread your legs, lifting up the skirt of your toga slowly as if to not tease you, but himself. Geta could feel how hard he was, something he hadn’t been around anyone but you ever since you met. You did not only just leave their company earlier, you left them aching, with full balls and unmet needs.

Caracalla turned your head to face him again, before he kissed you hungrily once more. It was now his hands that groped at your breasts. “Such, irresistible tits-” He panted between kisses, when he broke off, you could feel Geta’s hands caressing your now bare thighs. “An irresistible cunt too brother- so fucking wet and swollen-” Geta mumbled before he spread your legs further and dove in. A cry left your lips when he licked your folds with his tongue. “Yeah? Does that feel good?” Caracalla teased, still massaging both your mounds. “Perhaps I’ll have a taste of these while my brother feasts on your cunt.” He whispered in your ear.  

You nodded impatiently, you had no words for how Geta was lapping at your pearl. Strings of moans and cries left you, you felt like pushing Geta away while at the same time pulling him closer. Geta whined and shuddered himself, while his mouth sucked and licked at you, not wanting it all to be over too soon. Caracalla couldn’t resist anymore and kissed from your mouth down your neck. Sucking on the skin at your collarbone before he took your left nipple in his mouth.

A loud whine escaped you at the feeling of one brother between your thighs while the other sucked at your breasts. You didn’t even notice how Caracalla was touching himself over his toga, he couldn’t help it- all the excitement and teasing had made him so hard, his own arousal started to leak on his thigh. Caracalla sent vibrations over your skin while he moaned around your nipple, his own stimulation adding to his arousal.

“I can’t- I-” Your back arched and you instinctively gripped Geta’s hair, your breath stuck in your throat as your first orgasm sucked the life out of you. Your soul felt like it was departing with the way Geta did not cease his actions, instead he lapped at you faster. “No! Please-” You choked on air as your legs began to shake, Geta noticed then how overstimulated you were and ended his torment. His own scalp was aching from how you pulled it but he was desperate to feel it again. 

Caracalla was still suckling at your breast, his hand massaging his cock over the fabric covering it. Geta came up to kiss you now your lips had a break from his brother. Pausing before he spoke, “Do you taste yourself on my tongue? Such a delicious cunt you have- all ours- only ours.” Geta rambled. He didn’t even give you time to answer before he resumed kissing you, his tongue now lapping inside your mouth instead. Then Geta moved your hand to his bulge, encouraging you to squeeze it, massage it. He hissed when you did, whispering praises in your ear as you jerked him over his clothes. 

He was about to remove his toga to resume your activities when three heavy and loud knocks pierced the room. “What?!” Geta screamed, making you flinch as his voice penetrated your ear. Caracalla paused his movements too, looking up with ragged breath. “I apologise your majesty but General Acacius is asking for his daughter, he would like to take her home.” An unknown voice explained on the other side of the large doors, probably a Praetorian. “Not now! Fuck off!” Caracalla then screamed. They were both good at that.

“I’m afraid he is insisting, Caesar.” The voice continued. You had almost completely forgotten your father and Lucilla were still somewhere in the palace, waiting for you. “Perhaps, we could- continue... this, when we have more time?” You meekly suggested. Geta looked at his brother who shook his head no, but Geta knew better. He did not want his best General to know yet what he and his twin were doing to his precious daughter, if he decided to send you away or even leave with you, it would ruin everything. 

Geta knew the best course of action was to have you return later, to avoid suspicion and to keep you around. “You will come back later, perhaps tomorrow.” Geta decided, you nodded. “No, no, no! We have not finished yet!” Caracalla almost cried, he finally had you, and now you were being ripped away from him? “Brother, she will come back, now to avoid further suspicion, she should come back tomorrow.” Geta insisted. Caracalla let go of you and sat back with a scoff. 

“I’m sorry Caesar, I will come back, I promise.” You told him sweetly, before making the bold move to kiss him on his cheek. That little goodbye kiss was not enough for him, he turned you and kissed you on your lips before reluctantly letting go. Geta then helped you with your toga while Caracalla definitely pouted next to you, refusing to help. And you knew you were in too deep when Geta finished dressing you, helped you stand and kissed you softly before caressing your cheek and bringing you back to your father...

[freyito]

Want to write for boothill? Then....remember how he reacted when he was called cute? That should be your starting point

✭ pairing(s): boothill x gn reader

✧ a/n: as always, boothill cannot live a peaceful existence around me and MUST have some sort of angst in any fic i write. youre welcome :D

✦ taglist: @fffrost, @shinysora

🗒 cw: gn reader, GET SHIP OF THESEUS'D, little bit of hc work?, not proofread

✎ wc: 1.6k

ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴅᴀʀʟɪɴ'

Boothill is a prideful man. You know that better than anyone. He doesn’t take much compliments, if at all. Perhaps ‘handsome’, or maybe even ‘dashing’, but he only really accepts them from you. A man of his standing can’t be called… ‘cute’. No, no. He’s rough ‘n’ tough, he’s manly, and on occasion, he’s pretty. But not cute, adorable, or anything of the sort. Don’t insult him like that! Not even when he comes home with a new getup, pretty in pink, even down to his medals.

Well, not that you cared. You called him whatever you wished, because he was cute. Especially when he was all pouty, acting indignant. This didn’t help him, of course, it only spurred you on to show him with as many adorable nicknames you could. ‘Boo-Boo’ in particular has always stunned him. He’d get this look, where his nose scrunched, giving you an awkward grimace (which often turns into a sheepish smile), and his face lighting up like a firecracker. He’d stammer and trip over his words, telling you to ‘knock it off, sugar…’, shake his head, and mumble something about how you can’t do that to a man’s dignity.

But you do. He won’t do much about what you call him, because deep down it sparks something akin to butterflies in his stomach. Or, at least, in what could be his stomach. It’s more like an odd quivering feeling within his wires that simulates adrenaline, and apparently, nerves! Boothill himself will never get used to it, but you’re quite taken with the effect you have on him, and the subsequent results.

He loves you, he truly does. And of course he’s willing to sit still and accept the fact that you won’t stop hurling such… endearing words at him. Yet, despite all his protests, all his pouting and shaking his head, he can’t help but admit (to himself, if he let you know, he would never hear the end of it) that he quite enjoys it. A man like him, who tossed his body away to become a killing machine, the hollow shell he inhabits created for the sole reason of revenge, considered cute? He hasn’t heard words like that directed at him in such a long time. Not since he was a kid, anyways.

When he looks into the mirror, all he can see is a weapon. Even the most human parts feel twisted to him, his teeth reinforced for… what reason? There was a point where he forgot why he had gotten all these augmentations, wondering if he truly needed to shed the entirety of his humanity. Truly, there was no need for sharper teeth, augmented tongue, and an augmented eye. Nor did he need a neurochip, his mind alone could’ve gotten him this far. And yet, he had still gone through with it. All this to kill one man, who has avoided him for so many years. How many more augmentations, or “upgrades” would he need until his dream of revenge was finally realized? What would happen once that happens? Perhaps, by then, he wouldn’t be so deserving of–

You wrap your arms around Boothill’s waist and rest your head on his shoulder. He flinches instinctively, before letting out a soft chuckle and reaching up to pet through your messy hair. There you two are, framed in the length of the mirror, and in an instant, he forgets about his earlier thoughts. 

You had just woken up, barely able to keep your eyes open, or your steps steady. Despite your blurry vision, you had caught Boothill standing there, staring solemnly at his reflection in the mirror. This kind of thing was all too common, and you regret to admit you’ve noticed his penchant to stare for too long. You don’t understand what’s going on in his head, but at this point, you’d rather just hold him. And hold him you do, burying your face in the crook of his neck like the measly morning light that had filtered through the curtains was just too bright.

“Awh, darlin’, why don’t you go back to bed?” Boothill murmurs softly, leaning his head onto yours. “Didn’t mean to wake you, and definitely don’t mean to keep you up.”

You groan and shake your head half-heartedly, squeezing his waist just slightly to emphasize your want to stay. Or, perhaps your stubbornness to let go. You peak out from his shoulder, shooting him a look that tells him all. ‘I won’t go back to bed without you’, or something of the sort.

“Don’t give me that look,” He chuckles, tilting his head a little so he could press a kiss to the crown of your head. “I’ll be back in bed in a minute, okay? Just gotta… clean up…”

His voice tapers off as his gaze returns to the mirror, oddly transfixed on his teeth and eyes. You let go reluctantly, but you decide to stay close by. You stand next to him for a moment, looking up at him and watching the way he bared his teeth and leaned in. You raise your eyebrows, trying to decipher what was going on his head at the moment, to no avail. While he registers the fact that you are right next to him, he doesn’t say much else, focused on his reflection.

“Hey, cutie,” You mumble, deciding to take a page out of his book. He snaps out of his trance and stares down at you with that same, flustered look, his cheeks red as he tries his best to form a sentence, something to tell you off. Eventually, he gives up, shoulders slumping slightly as he allows himself to be defeated by such a simple word. “What’cha thinkin’ about?”

“I-It’s nothin’, hun. Just…” He shrugs, gesturing towards the mirror, then himself. “I think I’m… unhappy.”

You blink and stare up at him for a moment, surprised by those words. Boothill has always had his ups and downs, and around you, he was never afraid to ‘cry’, wallow, or anything of the sort. He could mournfully explain what happened to his home to you, he’d tell you he missed it, but you don’t think he’s ever said he was unhappy. 

“Ah, uhm… with me? With us? Or, like…” You point at his mouth, “Your teeth?”

“No! No, I could never be unhappy with you, sugar. Or the life we have– but, I mean, I guess the teeth are part of it,” He turns away from the mirror, gaze softened, almost sorrowful. “It’s my body… I ain’t insecure, or anything, and I know what I was gettin’ into. I mean, I chose this for a reason, but… I dunno. I don’t. Sometimes I start thinkin’ if it was worth it, and sometimes it scares me to think of what happens after.”

“After… what, exactly?”

“When I find that sunuva-nice-lady, and string him up by his pearls and show him what iron tastes like–”

“You’ll have me. We’ll have a life, we’ll have the same life we have now, or maybe even better.”

“I… I suppose we will… but I hate to be the bearer of bad news, when Oswaldo Schnieder is dead, my bounty’s only gonna get bigger. You know that.”

“I do, but, not to jinx it or anything, they don’t know where we are. We can live out our peace day by day by day… yada yada yada.”

Boothill pauses, and thinks about it. It’s nice, that kind of future. But he also understands that it won’t be possible. You do too. Not that you want to admit it, if you were to say it out loud, you feared that it would become true.

After a beat, Boothill sighs and wraps his arm around your waist, nudging you back to the bed.

“Well, it’s a bit too early to think about that, isn’t it. I’ve yet to find the dang clockstucker,” He huffs, shaking his head, before falling back onto the bed, hands behind his head. “Best we get some rest instead of talkin’ all grim-like. Ain’t good for our minds.”

You follow suit, laying down next to him with a huff, rolling over onto your side and staring up at him. He closes his eyes, as if pondering something, or perhaps trying to go to sleep. Granted, he didn’t need to. He just liked to play along with you, hold you close and cuddle up despite how ‘uncomfy’ he claimed his body to be. Yeah, metal and steel wasn’t exactly the softest material, but… you liked it all the same. At this point in the relationship, it felt normal. If anything, it’d feel wrong to hold anything else other than steel.

Propping yourself up on your elbow, you reach out with your other hand and cup his face. His eyes flutter open near immediately, tilting his head ever so slightly and looking up at you.

“What’s up?” He smiles weakly, his bravado faltering. You know damn well that whatever was on his mind earlier was still haunting him, and you’d rather have him fight against being called the word ‘cute’, rather than this.

With a huff, you take your hand from his cheek, raking your fingers through his bangs before pushing them up and revealing the rest of his face. Taken aback, he blinks, eyebrows furrowing as he tries to decipher your goal. The eye that’s normally covered is damaged, torn a little at the edge, revealing some of the mechanized shell underneath. It’s not something he’s secretive about, you’ve known about it well before you two had started dating, but you didn’t see it much, and therefore, you were quite fascinated by it.

Before Boothill gets a word of protest in, you lean in and press a gentle kiss to his lips. It’s small and fleeting, but it’s enough to earn you a blush and a confused look. His lips work to form a word, but he ultimately fails, body slumping slightly as he realizes exactly what you’re going to say.

“You’re cute, you know? Like–”

“I know, I know, sugar. Thank you.”

© freyito, 2025 | masterlist | queue | kofi | discord server | strawpage | star header by roseschoices DO NOT REPOST AS YOUR OWN, REPOST ON ANY OTHER PLATFORM, OR USE FOR AI/AI CHATBOTS.

[paulyenvol6]

Bruised, Not Broken (Part 2)

This is part 2 of a one-shot I posted and it is based on this request. There will definitely be part 3 and maybe part 4 but we'll see :) Also, I just wanted to thank you for your wonderful support and I love you all <3

Contains: angst, mentions of pregnancy

Wordcount: 2.84k

Masterlist

Everything was spinning.

The ground beneath you was moving and although you knew that your mind was probably playing a trick on you you reached out to hold on to the wall of the inn.

You couldn't even cry. Your eyes were dry as a desert.

You knew you had to do something, walk away from this place but your body was frozen. Numb.

Everything was twisting and turning inside of you and as if it was a further sign from the gods the child in your womb kicked and moved so much that your upper body buckled.

You had nothing left in the world. Everything about this felt surreal and distant but at the same time you instantly knew your life would never be the same. What were you to do?

If someone walked past you they would probably assume that you were perfectly fine because your internal chaos wasn't visible from the outside. Your only reaction was the way your bottom lip trembled.

You didn't know how long you were standing by the brothel. Perhaps you could've measured the time by the movement of the sun but you couldn't raise your head high enough to watch it. Your eyes searched the crowd and only after a few minutes did you ask yourself why you had just done it. What had you been looking for? A sign that all of this was just a nightmare?

What were you to do? was the question repeatedly appearing in your head. What if you just ran away? You could find a boat and go to Essos. You could raise your child there and never hear from Daemon again.

Suddenly there was a sharp pain in your stomach and the tears that washed over you came so unexpected that you choked on a cry. Images of your husband appeared in your head. His smile, the way he tilted his head, his warm eyes. You allowed your tears to flow because otherwise you might have exploded and then soon, you didn't know where she had come from, you saw a woman's face in front of you through the veil of tears.

"My lady, are you quite alright?"

With trembling lips you nodded and tightened your grip on the facade of the house.

"Are you sure? Something I can do?"

You shook your head and then she left after giving you another suspicious glance. You were left alone and truthfully you appreciated it.

Time passed with you trying to calm yourself somehow but you couldn't fight the occasional breakouts and then, it was almost dark now, you knew you had to do something. You would either freeze here or get assaulted by someone and despite all your emotions, your child was still your priority.

You took a step back from this damned brothel and felt like a babe learning how to walk. Your knees were wobbly and your whole body was shaking so hard that you wished you could hold on to something. And yet you made it to the middle of the street and as if your whole life hadn't just got shattered into a million pieces you started to make your way back to the red keep.

In some way you were torn apart because you wished you could avoid Daemon for the rest of your life and not feel embarrassed and humiliated by merely looking at him but on the other hand the thought of screaming and shouting at him until you'd lose your voice sounded tempting as well.

When you eventually arrived at the keep you felt like you were about to explode from all the anger inside of you and you knew in order to survive, you needed to get it out. The guards were obviously too professional to comment on your expression and just allowed you to enter the castle and then the first thing that you did was make your way up to your chambers.

You didn't know what to expect. You didn't know what time it was so you thought that Daemon might still be out. Perhaps it would be even better that way so you could have a little more time to prepare yourself for the confrontation.

Your nails dug into the palms of your hands while you stared at the door. Driven by your rage you opened it and immediately heard a noise inside. You pressed your teeth into your bottom lip and slowly entered the room while searching for your husband.

"Honey!" he shouted and your eyes found him by the table. "Where have you been, I thought you would only be gone for an hour. Did something happen? I was so worried, tell me. Are you fine?"

Mayhaps he mistook your teary eyes with a reaction to something that had happened to you. You flashed your eyes at him and hissed out when his hand reached out to touch your upper arm.

"No," you dangerously whispered and you could see his eyes widening.

"What is it?"

You chuckled quietly but could feel your veins throbbing. "Fuck you."

"Darling, what – "

"Shut up. And don't call me darling," you said close to tears now and pushed him away from you.

"Y/n, I don't understand – " "DON'T FUCKING LIE TO ME," you screamed completely overtaken by your rage which concerned Daemon so much that he took a step back.

"OF COURSE YOU UNDERSTAND YOU STUPID LIAR. I KNOW WHAT YOU DID."

Despite feeling unaware of the fact that you had started to cry again, you tasted something salty on your lips.

"No, y/n, please listen to me."

"I don't wanna listen to anything out of your mouth, EVER AGAIN," you hissed and pointed with your finger at him.

"You are an arsehole, an evil lying disgusting arsehole. You fucking CHEATED on me while I was here in the keep scared of having a miscarriage and then you came back here acting all loving and caring without even having any regrets. WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU??"

You were blinded by your emotions and didn't care about wakening up the whole castle. You wanted to hit him in his face until you forgot about his existence. Before you could even register it Daemon reached out to your hand and enclosed it tightly.

"Please, darling, I didn't know. I didn't know that you were in danger, otherwise I would've been here immediately."

You pulled back trying to free your hand from his grip and eventually he let go.

"You CHEATED, Daemon. NOTHING can justify this. Why the fuck would you do this?" you cried and dropped your head to your chest feeling very tired suddenly.

"I'm sorry. I know I fucked it up," he whispered and tried to come closer to you.

"Stay back," you sobbed.

He watched you cry for a few minutes and for some reason it made you even angrier. How could he just stand there acting like nothing was wrong while you bawled your eyes out? Why didn't he cry? Why wasn't he on his knees apologizing?

You wiped over your eyes with the back of your hand. "I don't wanna see you again. I'm gonna leave the keep."

Now Daemon's eyebrows lifted and for the first time he looked genuinely concerned. "What."

"I'm gonna leave. Do you actually think I want to spend another second in your presence after what you have done to me?"

Daemon took a step towards you and grabbed your shoulder.

"We have a child together. You can't just leave, we're married."

"Oh I can. Watch me," you hissed quietly.

"Y/n, don't be childish now."

You laughed out loudly and Daemon seemed so worried now that you could see in his body's reaction that he was nervous.

"I'm childish? You cheated on me and now you're calling me childish because I say don't want to live with you?"

"It was a one-time thing, gods be good. I won't go the brothel again. Ever. If that's what you want."

"You can do whatever you want from now on. You can go fuck your whores as often as you like, I don't care."

Daemon shook his head and looked to the ground. "That's not I want. I want you."

"Well, if you did, you wouldn't have cheated on me, Daemon Targaryen."

Your voice was barely more than a whisper and you were proud of yourself for sounding so indifferent although inside of you there was a storm.

"How did you find out?" he breathed after a moment of silence.

"I passed the brothel. And then the owner saw me and asked when you would come by again. I was confused and he explained everything to me."

Daemon pressed his hand on his eyes and murmured something you didn't understand but you didn't care to ask him.

"I'll leave tonight."

He closed his eyes looking frustrated. "Y/n, you can't just leave like this. Please be reasonable for a moment. You're with child and where do you even wanna go?"

"I'll find something," you whispered and then the both of you remained silent for a few minutes before you started to speak again.

"As I said so many times before, you're not able to listen to me. You don't understand what I'm saying and why I'm saying it. I guess now you don't have to anymore."

Daemon gulped loudly and tilted his head at you.

"What do you want me to do? I'll do anything, what do I have to do so you'll forgive me?"

"There is nothing. You broke my trust, you betrayed me and nothing will ever make up for it."

He shook his head and now you could finally see some tears in his eyes as well.

"Don't say that…," Daemon whispered.

"Goodbye," you whispered and turned around.

For a moment you thought he was coming after you but then you were already standing in the corridor and asked yourself whether you had wanted him to come after you or not.

1 month later

"I don't wish to see him, Ser Roggers."

"He's persistent."

Yes he was. Daemon had written countless letters to you, begging you to come back and if you were being honest with you you were surprised he acted so pathetic and had just swallowed his pride like this.

"Tell him that I'm not here."

Ser Roggers looked down to the ground. "It's too late for that, my lady."

"Then tell him something else, I don't care. I'm not gonna see him."

You crossed your legs and turned around signalizing him that the conversation was over now so Ser Roggers had no choice but to bow and leave your chambers.

Once you heard the door closing you sighed out and leaned back in your chair. It had been almost a month since you had left Daemon and everything that was happening around you still seemed absurd and surreal. You were living at Dragonstone now as Viserys had found that it was the only solution to this "situation" as he had called it.

The night after you had found out about Daemon cheating on you you had intended to storm out of the red keep but Viserys, who had found about your argument with his brother, had stepped in your way before you could even leave the castle.

At first he had tried everything to convince you to stay but after he had realized that nothing would make you spend another hour in Daemon's presence he had decided to grant you some time alone but in order to hide this crisis from the smallfolk Viserys had ordered you to go to Dragonstone.

Therefore you had a safe and warm place to live during you pregnancy and what would follow after you didn't want to think about right now.

You sat in your chair a few more minutes until Ser Roggers returned to your chambers. His facial expression worried you at first and you flared your nostrils.

"Is he gone?" He sighed but then nodded. "Yes. He left."

You exhaled deeply. "Good."

"But my lady, I don't think… I mean I think it would be good to see him. He's the father of your child. And your husband."

You rolled your eyes and grinded your teeth threateningly.

"I don't want to see him. He humiliated and embarrassed me and just because he inserted himself inside of me once doesn't mean I'm obligated to spend the rest of my life with him."

He widened his eyes at your inappropriate words but you ignored it.

"I wish to be left alone by him. I do hope you have made that clear to him. No more letters or visits."

"I tried to, yes. But I don't know if he'll actually do it."

You rolled your eyes again. "Then try harder."

Ser Roggers bowed and then excused himself and you were left with a bitter feeling in your stomach. You didn't want to be mean to your most loyal and closest companion here but just hearing Daemon's name made your blood boil. And yet it wasn't Ser Rogger's fault, he only followed your orders.

With a feeling of regret you promised yourself that you would be kinder to him in the morrow and then rose from your chair. It was still early but you were feeling quite tired already so you made your way to the door to ask your servants to prepare your supper so you could go to sleep early.

The next weeks passed and each day you felt like everything you were doing became more difficult. Your belly has swelled to an unimaginable size and soon the easiest things such as walking up a staircase became almost unbearable.

And then you were in your ninth month and you made a decision that probably shocked you the most out of all people.

You allowed Daemon to visit you.

You couldn't even exactly explain why you chose to do it but the date of the birth of your child growing closer triggered a feeling of both helplessness and reasonableness in you. Because as much as you still hated him and swore yourself you'd never come back to him on a daily basis you knew that he would demand to see his child. It would be his heir after all and even you couldn't deny him to visit his child.

And well aware that the first few weeks after giving birth would be hard for you you decided to rather get used to seeing him every now and then now.

When you told Ser Roggers the news his jaw dropped and he was too stunned to speak for a second.

"Pardon me, my lady. But did you say I am to invite the prince to dragonstone?"

The last weeks Daemon had still kept you busy with a lot of letters begging and pleading for your forgiveness and you had been quite vocal about your displeasure so it was no wonder Ser Roggers was confused now.

"Yes. Of course you may not invite him to live here with me. Just for an afternoon or supper."

The knight hesitate but then nodded. "F-Fine. I'm going to make it happen, my lady."

And so on the very same evening the message arrived that Daemon would be coming to dragonstone on the next day. Ser Roggers told you that Daemon had intended to come the very same day but he had refused him with the explanation that you needed a lot of sleep in this state so your husband had insisted on coming with the first light of dawn.

That night you went to sleep with an odd feeling in your stomach. You didn't know what it would be like to see him again. It had barely been two months and yet you so felt so distant to him that you caught yourself thinking whether you had actually known him at some point. What if he would drag you back to the red keep?

'No,' you thought and turned to your other side. 'All of this is still under Viserys' watch and Daemon wouldn't turn against his own brother.' But well, hadn't he turned against you? His wife?

You thought back to your life months ago. How well you were able to remember how happy you had been when the maesters had told you that you were with child. Your life had seemed perfect. A loving and protecting husband who worshiped you like a goddess. A safe and comfortable life in the keep and a promising future.

Unconcsiously tears had welled in your eyes and you blinked several times. You couldn't fool yourself, because as strong and angry you appeared towards the people here at dragonstone and first and foremost Ser Roggers, you were deeply hurt and had found yourself crying to sleep more than once.

Everything could have been magical if Daemon hadn't been so stupid to destroy it. All he had to do was open his eyes and see what both your lives had become now because you were certain that he wasn't any happier now as well. And that was entirely his fault.

You clenched your fist and gulped loudly. You had to stay strong now. Tonight and tomorrow. This would only work if you'd be able to control your feelings and remain calm.

You raised your chin and then fell asleep.

[nerdallwritey]

Three Little Words

Summary: “Well, this has been lovely,” Astarion said, making his way to the door leading back into the inn proper. “Anything else we should know before we head off to save the day?” He was already halfway out the door, not bothering to wait for an answer, clearly trying to make a stealthy exit.  You eyed Halsin, who nodded and retrieved the rogue by his arm before he could leave, closing the door behind both of them for good measure. “Let me go, you humongous imbecile!” Astarion pounded his free arm against Halsin’s chest before Halsin released him and refused to let him move a muscle towards the door. Astarion huffed and crossed his arms, turning his nose up at the rest of you. “Is he okay?” Isobel asked.  “This is relatively normal behavior from him, actually,” Karlach said. OR Astarion accidentally says something nice, then acts like an idiot for the rest of the day.

Pairing: Astarion x f!reader Rating: 18+ (no smut) Word count: 8.3k CW: lots of Act 2 exposition, Rolan is a drunk dick, Astarion's scars, sitcom antics, reader is an idiot (and a bard), so is Astarion (not a bard, just an idiot, and more so than usual), Halsin's tits Spoilers: Spoilers for Act 2 (in-game dialogue, plot points, etc.) Also posted to: AO3 FAIR WARNING: This is PART 7 in my series, "Beauty and the Bard." Find the masterlist here.

a/n: PART 7 IS ALIIIIIIIIIVE!!! Thank you for waiting so patiently for this one, I had more planned for it but decided to cut it in half since I already yap too much as it is. I wanted this chapter to be a fresh enough take on the beginning of Act 2, and I hope you all enjoy! This one gets really sitcom-y at certain points which was a blast to write and I hope you have a blast reading! Part 8 is already in the works and I'm VERY excited to share that one with you all!! There's no smut in this chapter, and for that, I apologize. If all goes according to plan, Part 8 will have you covered! (Thank you to my beta @kermitwazowski, and the wonderful @arzen9 for reading!) As a reminder, last time, you fell asleep in Astarion's arms and he realized he's in love with you...

Taglist: Moved to the comment section, since tumblr hates sharing fun with friends - please let me know if you'd like to be added to the list!

You awoke to an empty bed. 

Drearily and with a tired moan, your arm flung out to search blindly in the dark, trying to make sense of your surroundings. Slowly, it came back to you - you’d made it to an inn in the Shadow Cursed Lands. You’d shared a passionate night with Astarion. Perhaps the vampire whose arms you were sure you’d fallen asleep in had rolled off the bed in the night? You inched your body to the edge of the bed, hanging your head over the side and blinking rapidly to get your eyes to adjust to the darkness. 

Nope. No trancing elf. Just a loose floorboard from the night before. 

You flopped dramatically onto your back, staring up at the ceiling. Couldn’t vampires technically hang from ceilings? Was it possible Astarion had somehow sleep… vampired? And somehow found himself snoozing upside down on the ceiling?

No, that was stupid, of course he wasn’t on the ceiling. Though you did squint and stare above you for longer than you would ever admit to anyone. 

Exhaling quietly, you sat up on your arms to scan the rest of the room before your eyes landed on a silhouette hunched in front of the drawn curtains of the room’s large window. 

Astarion was muttering quietly, his arm bent behind his back. “I… F… or is it an E? Is it even a letter?” You heard him sigh and saw his frame straighten fractionally. “What damn language is this?”

You half smiled affectionately, sitting up fully against the pillows. 

“Need some help writing a sonnet, Volo?” You swung your legs over the side of the bed and turned to face him.

Astarion jumped. “Ah!” You heard a loud crash as you saw his darkened form trip backwards over your discarded backpack.

“Astarion!” you cried, springing up from the bed and joining him on the ground. “Are you alright?” You brushed your knuckles over his cheek as he groaned lowly.

His eyes were shut tight in mild pain, but they opened after a moment to blink up at you. When he saw the concerned look on your face, he sat up quickly and backed away from you until his back made contact with your overturned backpack.

You frowned. “What’s wrong?”

Astarion smiled awkwardly. “Oh nothing, darling.” After a second, he said your name softly. 

You narrowed your eyes and stood up, striking a match and lighting the candle on the table parallel to the bed. “I don’t believe you.”

He was staring at you in a way that gave you the sense he wasn’t listening. 

“Hello?” you asked, snapping your fingers. 

Astarion shook his head, regaining focus. “Apologies, dear, you caught me by surprise, that’s all.”

You crossed your arms and smiled. “That little spill of yours kind of gave that much away.”

Astarion rose to his feet and rubbed his backside. “Yes, well…” He held his upper arm awkwardly and avoided meeting your eye. Your brow furrowed, but he continued talking. “I’ve… been tracing the scars on my back with my fingers, trying to read them by touch, but I can’t. They may as well be written in Rashemi.” 

There was something weird about his body language. Like he was trying to hide something from you, but you decided to focus on what he was telling you. Maybe if he kept talking, you’d figure out what was wrong. 

You stepped closer, pausing when he took another step back. You spoke calmly, “Let me have a look.”

“I-” he sighed. “This isn’t your problem, you know.”

“Like hells, it isn’t,” you scoffed with a smile. “Your problems are my problems now.” You stepped forward again and took his hand. He looked you in the eye before quickly looking away. “I want to help you.” You brushed your nose against his.

A chill ran through his body, and you felt his hand tremble in yours. “Fine.”

Hesitantly, he slowly turned his back towards you. 

It was rare that Astarion would purposely show you his back. You’d run your hands along the ridges of his scars numerous times, but he was reluctant to let you look at the hacked flesh directly. You assumed it was linked to the poorly hidden shame he felt towards his past, but you never looked at the marks with anything but admiration for his bravery and a sign of his survival. 

Now, seeing the scars straight on by the light of the candle, you recognized the runes as a language you’d seen written many times in books and in school growing up; Infernal. The language of the Hells.

From what little you could make out, the language was fragmented and strange. This scar was just a piece of a larger text. 

“And?” Astarion probed, looking over his shoulder at you. “What does it say?” Embarrassment and hopeful curiosity coated his words. 

“Well, it’s certainly not a poem. In fact, from what I can tell, it might be part of a devil’s pact.”

His eyes narrowed. “Infernal pact? But not even the whole text?” He turned back to face you. “What was that bastard up to?” 

“Did you ever see Cazador write in Infernal before?”

Astarion thought for a moment. “No. I could have missed it, of course, but I doubt it. Whatever he’s carved in my flesh, it’s a mystery to me.” When he realized you didn’t have some sort of quip to add, he continued. “Cazador was only figuratively hellish - there were never any devils hanging about the crypt.” 

You snorted. “I wouldn’t think there would be. Though, can you imagine Mizora in a crypt? Or Raphael? He’d probably be repulsed.” 

Astarion stiffened visibly. “Raphael… yes…”

You attempted to get his attention back on you by squeezing his hand. “What about him?”

He looked at you briefly, a slight smirk on his lips. “If anyone’s going to know about infernal contracts, he will.”

“I mean… That makes sense, I guess.”

Astarion pointed towards you excitedly. “I knew you’d see the pragmatic side.”

You tilted your head, thinking. “But Mizora’s kind of all about infernal legalese.”

Astarion rolled his eyes. “Sure, but Raphael has more panache. And I doubt Wyll would appreciate us summoning his devilish pact-maker.”

“Good point.”

“Unfortunately, Raphael comes and goes on his own schedule, so we’ll just have to look out for any sulfurous odors or the sound of questionable poetry.” 

That got you to smile. He smiled back, and reached out to hold your elbows lightly. “You will help me, won’t you, darling?”

“Of course I will,” you said, bending up to kiss his cheek. You felt him flinch beneath your lips. “Are you sure everything is alright? You seem awfully on edge.” 

“Me? On edge? Of course not!” His voice pitched up uncharacteristically and broke at the end. “I don’t know why that came out all squeaky because really,” he cleared his throat and lowered his voice comically, “I’m fine.”

You smiled skeptically. “If you say so.”

“Don’t worry about me, dearest,” he released your arms and knelt to go through his own bag. He pulled out a fresh shirt and slipped it over his head. “I think I’ll spend some time this morning studying the art of infernal negotiations.” He kissed you swiftly before pulling away as if you’d shocked him. “I’ll…” you caught him look down at the ring still gracing your left pinky, “see you later.” 

With that, he quickly left the room, closing the door behind him and leaving you with nothing but the sound of Harpers patrolling outside and patrons sitting by the bar.

You exhaled loudly, staring at the door after him. 

Something was definitely wrong. 

Compared to last night, when he was blissed out on your tongue, and kissing your throat with fervent passion, there was no doubt something was bothering him.

But what?

You sat back on the bed, replaying the previous night over in your head. Had you done something wrong? Had you pushed him too hard to do something he didn’t want to do?

No. No, you were fairly certain he had truly enjoyed himself with you. 

But then again, you were very new to sex. And new to Astarion, for that matter. Was it possible he could still pull one over on you, even though you felt like you could read him pretty well by now?

Regardless of whatever was going on with Astarion, it was clear that it had to do with you, based purely on his hesitancy to get close to you just now. 

Sniffing your sleep shirt and feeling suddenly self conscious, you ran a warm bath and scrubbed yourself clean of whatever grime had clung to your body since entering the Shadow Cursed Lands. 

A short time later, you found yourself exiting the bedroom, your hair damp, and fresh clothes gracing your figure. You paused in the doorway, scanning the large, open room that made up most of the first floor. Immediately, your eyes fell on the gaggle of child criminals behind the bar that you’d sicced on Astarion at the Tiefling party.

Smiling to yourself, you took a step towards the bar, only to freeze when you heard the familiarly cool tone of a tiefling wizard. 

“...There’s another bottle of Arabellan dry back there,” Rolan practically spat. “Put it on the bar, then piss off and leave me alone.”

Zaki and Meli, two of the tiefling kids, exchanged glances before Zaki upturned his nose at Rolan.

“Jaheira said we should serve drinks, but that we shouldn't serve drunks.”

Slurring his words mildly, Rolan pointed an accusatory finger at the children. “Jaheira didn’t save your ragged little tail from the cultists. I did.”

You stepped forward and made eye contact with Zaki and Meli who smirked when they recognized you. You winked at them and they nodded before turning their backs on Rolan and focusing their attentions within the bar.

“Given the constant darkness, I know it’s fairly difficult to tell the time, but I’m pretty sure it’s a little too early in the day to get this sloshed.” You took a seat beside Rolan. 

He looked over at you and rolled his eyes. “Oh. It’s you.”

You pursed your lips at his tone and rested your head on your hand. “Hi Rolan.”

“Don’t you get tired of telling people how to live their lives?” He took a big swig from his stein before scowling at you and turning away. “If you’re here to save the day again, you’re a little late this time.”

You sat up straighter, suddenly aware of the absence of Cal and Lia. “What happened? Where’s-”

“Oh, sod off,” he hissed. “I’m only here because you ‘helped’ me and my family.”

“I-”

“I was ready to cut and run back at the Grove, but you had other ideas.” Rolan gestured erratically with his mug and free hand.

You leaned in fractionally, attempting to calm him down enough to tell you what was happening. “Rolan, where-”

“Cal and Lia were taken in by your crap,” he slurred. “You convinced them to play hero, and now they’re gone.” 

You bit your lip and looked around, feeling stupid when you obviously caught no sight of the siblings. “Do you know where they are?”

Rolan wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and whipped his head to look at you with a scowl. “Dead, for all I know. Or in the cult’s tower with the others who were taken.”

“Taken,” you repeated, your voice catching in your throat. You looked around frantically, taking note of the tieflings you recognized. Doing a mental headcount, it appeared that the kids were almost accounted for, minus Mol, who you knew was around here somewhere, and Arabella, who was probably with Mol, but there was a distinct lack of adults you’d met back at the Grove. You spotted Alfira sitting alone at the hearth, with Lakrissa nowhere to be seen. Zevlor was also noticeably missing. 

They must have been attacked on their way to Baldur’s Gate and taken to Moonrise. You hoped that was the worst of it, praying silently to whichever god was listening that the tieflings would be okay. 

As your eyes continued to scan the taproom, you spotted Shadowheart, Wyll, Lae’zel, and Karlach talking pointedly with Jaheira over a map spread out over her desk. Their attention was drawn away from the map for a moment when Astarion strode by them with a heavy tome from a wall of books, over to a table where Gale was reading what appeared to be a small book of poetry. It seemed as though Gale had just recently sat down without Astarion’s knowledge, because the vampire gathered up a stack of books resting on the table and rerouted to an empty one out of earshot from the wizard. 

When Astarion caught your eye, he froze momentarily and you sent him a small smile. His eyes flicked between you and Rolan, his brow furrowing ever so slightly. You shook your head minutely, causing him to turn back slowly towards his empty table and dust off the newest book you assumed was full of Infernal translations of some kind. You pretended not to notice him watching you closely.

Rolan, meanwhile, was still brooding over his ale. “Get the bottle,” he nodded at Meli, “give me the bottle - it’s not hard.”

Meli crossed his arms. “I don’t want to.”

“And I don’t want to give you a lashing,” Rolan slurred, “but I will, damn it.”

“Whoa,” you said, holding up both hands, “let’s not resort to threatening kids just because we’re angry.” 

You laid a gentle hand on Rolan’s arm, only for him to shake you off roughly. 

“How dare you tell me - me - how to live my life. After everything I’ve just said.”

Before you had a chance to respond, a flash of silver glinted before your eyes as Astarion slammed a dagger into the wood of the counter between you and Rolan. 

“Is there a problem here?” he asked, sidling up next to you, and helping himself to a bottle of red wine within reach. His books laid abandoned at his empty table not too far off.

“You gonna pay for that?” Zaki asked with a huff.

“Quiet, child whose name I’ve never cared to learn.” You crossed your arms and gave Astarion a look before he rolled his eyes and extended his neck towards you. “She’ll cover it.”

You rolled your eyes in return and reached into your pocket to hand the tiefling a gold piece. 

“I knew I liked you,” Zaki smirked before running off to show the other kids his loot. 

Astarion raised an eyebrow. “Gold, darling? Really?”

“I think we’ll survive,” you said softly before pulling the knife out of the countertop and laying it gently on its side. 

Astarion caught sight of the blade and refocused his attention on the bitter wizard beside him. “As I said, is there a problem here?” His words came out like a growl and his hand flexed as if preparing to strike, before realizing his dagger was on the counter, and instead opted for a swig of his overpriced wine.

“No problem at all,” Rolan said in mock nonchalance. “It’s only that your partner here led my siblings to their doom.” He slammed his mug on the counter, earning a few curious and annoyed looks from other patrons and passing Harpers. 

“Okay good, so no problem then,” Astarion took another swig of his wine.

“Astarion,” you hissed before turning back to Rolan. “We’ll rescue them.”

“If they’re alive,” Astarion muttered. He nearly choked when you forcefully nudged him with your elbow.

“Bullshit,” Rolan snapped. “If they’re alive, I can save them. They’re my responsibility.” He downed the rest of his drink before boldly turning to face you and Astarion head on. He puffed out his chest, attempting to look bigger. “You go save the world, or your own arse, or whatever it is you do.”

“Hey,” Astarion slammed down his own bottle and rose to his full height, “your useless siblings would be lucky to be saved by her.”

“How dare you,” Rolan moved closer to Astarion, but you weaved in-between them before either of them could get their hands on the other. Patrons were starting to stare. You even caught Jaheira turning to give you a curious raise of her eyebrow.

“Both of you, cut it out.” You placed a hand on Astarion’s chest to keep him at bay, and didn’t dare to touch Rolan again. Astarion, in turn, took your hand and brought it to his mouth for a kiss. 

“Listen here, you shoddy excuse of a wizard,” Astarion clutched your hand to his chest and refused to let it go when you attempted to pry it free, “if this woman offers her help, she means it. And based on our numbers, eight, I believe, as opposed to your, what? One?”

“Astarion-”

“I’d say you should take her up on that offer.”

Rolan scoffed. “As if your oafish party could infiltrate Moonrise unnoticed. I’ll have a much easier time sneaking in by myself.”

Astarion laughed airly. “Oh, please, darling, you set one foot outside the protective barrier on this place and the shadows will come for you. You’ll go mad and join your siblings in the great beyond.”

“Astarion, please,” you said sharply and finally pulled your hand free from his grasp.

“I don’t have to listen to this,” Rolan said flatly. He got up to leave, stumbling a bit as he headed in the direction of the entrance.

Astarion crossed his arms with a smug look of triumph on his face. He called after him with the finishing blow: “Do tell the shadows I miss their cold embrace when they swallow you whole.”

The comment made Rolan turn on his heel and march back, sidestepping you and pressing an accusatory finger into Astarion’s chest. “Why is it so important to you whether my family lives or dies? Huh? Do you get some sort of… boon? From whatever devil created a fanged freak like you?”

Your eyes darted back and forth between the tiefling and the vampire, smiling awkwardly at patrons who passed by and shrugging as if to say, “Can you believe these guys?”

Astarion laughed again. “Darling, I couldn’t care less about the fate of you, or any other refugee for that matter.”

A look of confusion passed over Rolan’s face before it morphed back into a scowl. “Then why do you care about this?”

“I don’t.”

“You do!”

You stepped forward, bringing your hands up to try and offer a showing of peace. “Come on, boys. Rolan, we’d be happy to look for your siblings and help however we can. Astarion, why don’t we leave Rolan to think about it for a bit and-”

Rolan shook his head. “Oh no, I’m going after Cal and Lia on my own, and you can’t stop me.”

Astarion rolled his eyes. “A mistake.”

“Leave me to my own choices, will you?!”

“Not when your choices are objectively stupid and illogical!” He took a step forward, causing Rolan to take an indignant step back. Astarion smirked and looked down his nose at his opponent. “Which is funny, seeing as how you tote yourself around as if you’re some big wizard prodigy.” He took another step forward and lowered his voice menacingly. “Why don’t you use that brain of yours and stay here, where you can’t bother anybody else?”

This time, Rolan stood his ground and raised his voice. “Why do you care?!”

“Because she cares and I love her!” 

Time froze. 

Astarion was locked in a stare down with Rolan, as if his declaration was the most obvious thing in the world and not something that had just changed everything.

I love her. 

The words replayed your mind like the most beautiful melody you’d ever heard. 

Astarion had a way of doing that; reciting words or sounds or phrases that quickly became your new favorite songs. 

But this time, you couldn’t quite believe what you were hearing.

“What?” Your hand reached out and brushed his softly.

Astarion jolted and slowly turned to look at you, sudden panic flashing over his features. “What?”

“You said-”

“Nothing. I said nothing.”

“No, you said-”

He raised his voice to speak over you. “I said something devastating to this wizard, rendering him absolutely shattered, isn’t that right, wizard?” He looked to Rolan for help, but Rolan’s eyes were wide with discomfort.

“Oh, this… was that the first-? While you were yelling at me? Yikes.” He began to back away slowly. 

Astarion lunged forward to grab him, but Rolan’s tipsiness worked to his advantage and somehow allowed him to bob out of the elf’s grasp. 

“Get back here!” Astarion floundered, but you caught him by the wrist. 

“You said you loved me!” You were smiling widely, your heart the fullest it had ever been. 

“No I didn’t!” Astarion snatched his hand out of yours and turned to face you while actively backing away. 

You laughed in thrilled disbelief. “Yes you did!”

“No I didn’t!” He crossed his arms in front of himself as if you were a demon coming to rip his unbeating heart out of his very ribs.

“You love me!”

“No I don’t!” He sounded almost like a child as he insisted he hadn’t just said the three little words you’d been so eager to hear. 

“Astarion, I-”

“Your move, Mol,” a sultry voice reached your ears, somehow piercing through your train of thought and what you had been about to confess. You scrunched your nose at the suddenly overpowering scent of cherries masking a fouler stench of sulfur. 

Astarion was frozen leaning away from you, but his eyes shifted towards the voice and then back to you before he darted in Raphael’s direction. 

“Astarion!” you called after him, hot on his heels.

He barely turned to respond. “Can’t hear you darling, important business must be attended to!”

“This is important business!” you countered.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, dearest!” He came to a halt in a smaller room connected to the large tap room. You stopped short behind him, nearly slamming into his back. 

Immediately you spied Raphael sitting elegantly in front of a game of lanceboard. Mol was sitting opposite from him, squinting at the pieces and analyzing her current position. 

“You trapped me,” she said, annoyed. “I didn’t even want to take this one.”

“Calimshan rules, dear,” Raphael explained, and Astarion groaned quietly next to you. “The first piece touched is the first piece moved.”

“Boring,” Astarion muttered.

Mol huffed. “That’s garbage! No matter where the knight goes, I’m gonna lose it.”

Raphael’s tone became more stern when he instructed, “Then make the sacrifice useful. Guard your Mystra, or come for my Cyric.” 

“We should really talk,” you murmured to Astarion, who cleared his throat and drew Raphael and Mol’s attention to you instead.

Mol’s face instantly lit up when she saw you. “Look who made it! For once I saved your butt out there with Jaheira, didn’t I?” 

You returned her smile, stepping closer and pretending to punch her upper arm playfully. “You sure did. Can’t thank you enough for that, Mol.”

She gave you a smug sideways smirk. “We’re square now, chief.”

“I guess we are,” you laughed. 

“Say,” she said, “do you play lanceboard by any chance? It’s my first time playing.” 

Judging by the mischievous glint in her eye, you immediately clocked that she was lying to throw off Raphael. 

“Oh, he’s laid a fine trap for you, Mol,” came Gale’s voice over your right shoulder. 

“Where did you come from?” Astarion yelped and clutched his chest from his spot on your left.

Gale opted to ignore Astarion’s dramatic display and continued, “But it looks to me like his Cyric could be dethroned.”

You nodded, thinking back to several lanceboard games you’d played with Gale over the course of this journey. You lowered your voice and nodded at the pieces in front of Mol. “Gale’s right. Put pressure on him. Attack the pieces in front of his Cyric.” 

Mol gave you and Gale an impish grin before following through with the move you both recommended. She looked immensely satisfied when she knocked the piece guarding Raphael’s God of Lies from the board. 

Raphael raised his eyebrows, looking both proud and surprised. “My, the Theskan Double Counter-gambit. Vicious.” He chuckled darkly. “Exactly what I would have done.” 

With another self satisfied smirk, Mol removed Raphael’s Cyric from the board completely. “How’s that for Calimshan rules?”

“Brava!” Raphael said, spreading his arms out wide. “Lovely work. I see I was right to make you the offer I did.” 

Your stomach dropped. “Wait, what?”

Raphael didn’t take his eyes off Mol. “You will consider it, won’t you?”

Without another word, Mol got up and you watched as she returned to the other tiefling kids behind the bar.

“What a lovely specimen she is,” Raphael said as your eyes followed her. 

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up as you turned to look back at him. 

He was standing now. “A blushing apple, begging to be plucked.” He mimed the action of pulling an apple from its spot on a branch, his eyebrows furrowed to accompany his conniving smile. 

You stepped to the side, attempting to block Mol from his view. “Leave her alone, Raphael.”

He ignored your warning and changed the subject. “The Theskan move suggestion was inspired. I had no idea you played.”

Gale chuckled. “I’ve been known to dabble.”

“He’s not talking to you, purple,” Astarion spat the last word as if it were an insult. 

Gale stared at him for a moment before shrugging. “Purple has always suited me rather nicely, thank you.”

“Why are you here, Raphael?” you asked. “To play games?”

Raphael’s expression became almost unreadable. “To play the game. The vast lanceboard of souls.”

“Well that doesn’t sound legally sanctioned by the Lanceboard Committee of Baldur’s Gate,” Gale muttered. 

Astarion rolled his eyes. “I wish you would explode.”

Raphael continued, this time his voice was overly saccharine. “Don’t you worry about Mol. It goes without saying she still has the unconditional freedom to choose the only option she has left.” 

Gale leaned over to you and whispered, “Ominous, that.”

“Quiet,” Astarion hissed, causing Raphael’s attention to turn on him. 

“Now,” Raphael said, placing a hand on his hip and pointing a lazy finger at Astarion, “let’s talk about you. I sense there’s something you want to ask me.”

“I do,” Astarion said, hunching forward as if to make himself smaller, “I have a… proposal… for you.” When you turned to glance at him with wide eyes, he corrected himself. “A proposition! A request. A… deal, I suppose, for lack of a better term.”

“A proposal,” Raphael’s eyes shifted between you two, probably knowing the exact tension that was occurring between the two of you right now. 

It wouldn’t surprise you. 

He chuckled, but didn’t press further. “If you’re hoping to taste my blood, little vampling, think again. It burns hotter than Wyvern Whiskey.”

“This is serious business,” Astarion tried to sound firm before adding, “devil.”

Raphael smirked at him, but inclined his head to encourage Astarion to continue. 

“My old - well… A long time ago, someone carved infernal runes into my back,” Astarion explained. “They are a fragment of a contract. I’d like to know what the full contract says.” 

“Hmmmmm…” Raphael dragged out the sound far longer than necessary. 

Astarion straightened himself, attempting to look bravely back at the devil, but you saw the way he absently tapped his finger against his thigh. The way he blinked a little more frequently than normal.

You turned to Raphael, annoyed. “Don’t play games, Raphael. Help him out.”

“Oh, such impatience,” Raphael said sarcastically. When neither you nor Astarion took the bait to squabble with him, he continued. “It’s something very important to your master. But is it a love letter?” He looked pointedly at you and you did your best to keep your expression even. “A warning, perhaps? Or a deed of ownership? I could give you all the gory details.”

“So do it,” you growled, feeling extremely protective of the man to your left who’d just bared part of his soul to this devil. And Gale.

“Ah ah ah,” Raphael tsked. “You’ll have to do something for me first. Let me think about it and get back to you.”

Astarion stammered and held his arms out dramatically. “You’ll ‘get back’ to me? This is important, devil!” After a moment, he sighed. “When?”

“Don’t worry,” Raphael said, the cunning smile refusing to leave his face, “I’m motivated to help you. Scars often tell such wonderful stories - I think yours might be truly exquisite.” 

Before you could interrogate him any further, Raphael vanished in a sour smelling puff of smoke.

“Good gracious, that’s foul,” Gale plugged his nose and waved his hand in front of his face.

You coughed repeatedly, shutting your eyes tight to make sure whatever residue Raphael left behind didn’t blur your vision. When you opened them again, you saw Astarion hightailing it out of the small room and across the taproom.

“Astarion!” you called. “Get back here, you heathen!”

As Astarion went to open one of the side doors of the inn to escape speaking with you, he slammed face first into Halsin’s chest.

“Oh!” Halsin exclaimed and peeled the vampire off of his tunic. “My apologies, Astarion, I was just coming inside to check on things with Moonrise Towers.”

Astarion held a hand to his forehead. “It’s like you’re made of cement.”

You caught up with him and witnessed him slump significantly. 

“Oh, hello, darling.” His tone was jovial, but his expression was one of disappointment at having been caught so easily. 

You placed your hands on your hips. “We need to talk.”

“News of Moonrise?” Halsin asked.

“No, the others are discussing that with Jaheira over there.” You pointed your thumb over your shoulder towards Jaheira’s desk, where your companions were still listening to her and hunching over a map. “No, I need to speak with Astarion in private-”

“Excellent reminder, darling,” Astarion said, straightening up and walking past you, over to Jaheira and the others. “We simply must plan out our next move!”

You turned to watch him go and stood next to Halsin, sighing heavily and pinching the bridge of your nose.

Halsin laid a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Everything alright? I hope nothing troubles the ever growing bond between you two?”

You began walking with him over to Jaheira’s desk. “He’s just being an idiot. He told me something very interesting and I want to talk to him about it more in depth.”

Halsin nodded. “You heard about the night he ran into me in bear form.”

“No, he-” You stopped short and looked at Halsin. “What?”

“There’s the fearless leader these cubs won’t stop talking about,” Jaheira said loudly, causing you to turn away from Halsin and finish taking the last few steps over to her desk. 

You approached Astarion, who stared blankly ahead and made no attempt at hiding the large step he took away from you. You rolled your eyes and stepped forward to stand between Karlach and Shadowheart, observing the map in front of you. 

“You all have been talking for quite a bit.” You noticed different markings on the map, suggesting different routes to take towards Moonrise. “Have you figured anything out?”

Wyll crossed his arms and blew out a breath. “Only that our opponent seems to be invincible, according to Jaheira.”

“So says she,” Lae’zel placed her hands on her hips and repositioned her feet to stand tall. “She has no idea how lethal we are.”

“Ketheric was a Sharran,” Shadowheart said quietly, lost in thought. “He was building an army of Dark Justiciars beneath this village.” She turned her head to look at you. “I knew my Lady Shar’s influence here was all consuming, but… Dark Justiciars?” Her voice took on a dreamlike quality, “Only the very finest proved themselves worthy of the title. They’ve been silent for years but… an entire army? That must have been a fearsome sight.”

“Yes…” Jaheira side-eyed Shadowheart skeptically. She looked at you and said, “To bring you up to speed, General Ketheric Thorm, the Absolutist leader at Moonrise is a formidable foe that myself, my Harpers, and local druids saw to depose - we witnessed him dead and buried. But he’s returned. Not only does he live again, it seems he is no longer mortal. He has become, as Wyll said, invincible.”

“Chk,” Lae’zel rolled her eyes.

“I don’t fancy his chances,” Gale joked as he integrated himself into the group, causing Astarion to jump again.

“So help me gods, you must stop doing that.”

“Supposedly, the Harpers met Ketheric on the road commanding an army of Absolutists, intent on destroying Baldur’s Gate.” Karlach half smiled, proud to be relaying a new Jaheira tale to you. “Jaheira here saw to putting a fucking arrow through his fucking eye, only to watch the bastard pluck it out.”

“‘Like a splinter,’ in her words,” Wyll added helpfully.

Halsin whistled lowly. “Sounds like quite the nasty rival.”

Jaheira nodded. “He healed right in front of me, and chased us into the shadows. Things looked hopeless, but experience has taught me that no matter how bleak things look, there’s always hope.”

“Damn right,” Karlach grinned. 

Jaheira smiled at the tiefling, then looked around at your entire party. “You are that hope.”

Astarion gagged and rolled his eyes, earning an elbow in the side from Karlach.

“We’ll try our best,” you said.

“I was telling your companions here that while protected by your artifact,” Jaheira went on, “you can infiltrate his forces at Moonrise Towers, posing as True Souls.”

“A risky, but clever move,” Lae’zel smirked. “I like it.”

“If we can find out what makes him invincible,” Wyll said, “perhaps we can strip him of his advantage.”

Jaheira nodded. “Together, we assault his tower and put a final end to this blight.”

Astarion sniffed pompously. “You want to make use of our infection.” He placed a hand on his hip and gestured around with his free hand, “Some of us, not necessarily me, of course, I’m rather enjoying the sun when it’s not currently being banished by the Mistress of the Night-”

“Watch it,” Shadowheart warned through gritted teeth.

“Some of us,” Astarion continued, “want to be cured of it.” 

Jaheira watched him carefully. “Any cure starts with understanding the disease. Whatever magic Ketheric’s using to control these tadpoles, it must be at Moonrise.”

“Well,” Gale clapped his hands together, “sounds like we should get a move on if we plan on finding that cure any time soon.”

Jaheira looked to you. “I’ve already shared what I believe to be the best route to the Towers with your friends here.” She nodded her head towards Wyll, Shadowheart, Karlach, and Lae’zel. 

“Thank you,” you said. “Ketheric’s days are numbered - I’ll make sure of it.”

The Harper met you with a sad smile. “Without a cure for your infection, your days are numbered, yet you selflessly offer to spend them fighting alongside us. I like you.”

“Isn’t she the best?” Karlach clapped you on the shoulder, grinning, before clearing her throat. “I- I mean after you, of course.” She smiled awkwardly at Jaheira. 

Jaheira laughed, then addressed all of you: “I promise I will do everything I can to make sure you survive this.” 

Your companions offered their thanks, accompanied by a dramatic eye roll from Astarion. 

“Before you go,” Jaheira said, “there’s someone else you should meet.”

“Gods,” Astarion muttered, “we’re going to be stuck here forever if we keep yammering instead of doing.”

“I’m sorry,” Jaheira raised an eyebrow, “do you wish to be consumed by shadow?”

“If we have a choice,” Wyll said, “I’d prefer not to.”

“Good man,” she smiled at the warlock before looking around at everyone again. “You’re not our only secret weapon.” She rolled up the map laid before you all and handed it off to Wyll. “Isobel - a faithful cleric of Selûne, and a light in the darkness.” 

“Selûne?” Shadowheart wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Why would a servant to the Moonmaiden be all the way out here?”

“You’re lucky she is,” Jaheira gave Shadowheart a look, as if daring her to make another comment on the matter. “She cast the moon shield around the inn. It’s the only reason we’re still alive.” She moved to her right to point at a set of stairs in the small room off the taproom where you’d been speaking to Raphael. “She’s upstairs in her chambers. Tell her I sent you and she’ll see you through the shadows safely.” 

“We already have a lantern that protects us.” Shadowheart crossed her arms. 

“And I’m sure it’s very fine,” Jaheira said. “But lanterns have a tricky habit of going out when you need them.” When Shadowheart didn’t respond, Jaheira added, “Let’s not spurn what few gifts the gods choose to give us, hm?”

You had a feeling the “gods” she was referring to wasn’t the one Shadowheart had pledged her life to. 

“Well I, for one, can’t wait to see what this Isobel has to show us!” Astarion said, suddenly cheerful, and booking it up the stairs. 

Your party watched him go.

“What’s with him?” Karlach asked. 

“Very hot and cold, no?” Gale agreed. “I mean, more so than usual.”

“He’s being an idiot about something he said,” you sighed. “And it didn’t have anything to do with bears,” you pointed at Halsin before he could say anything. 

He simply smiled and shrugged, and followed everyone up the stairs.

“Sounds about right,” Shadowheart said. 

Lae’zel narrowed her eyes. “When has Astarion ever spoken about bears?” 

“He got drunk on one once,” you laughed. “But it wasn’t about that.”

“What was it about, then?” Wyll asked. “We’ve all said silly things we regret.”

“This wasn’t some silly thing, though” you clarified. “It was kind of important.”

Astarion ran out of a room beyond the balcony looking down into the taproom. “Would you all hurry up? I think I found her.”

You approached him as quickly as you could, trying to catch him off guard and reaching for his hand, but he dodged you and slipped back into the room. 

“Astarion!” you called and sped up even more to follow after him. 

You and the rest of the party entered into a large room - sectioned off to your right was a wall with two large doorways that lead into what appeared to be a study, complete with looming bookcases, a desk, and a fireplace. The rest of the room appeared to be a bedroom, based on the large bed with its headboard resting against the back wall, and a number of wardrobes. A large door that you assumed led outside stood next to the bed.

“Fancy digs,” Karlach murmured. 

You paused when Astarion thrust open the balcony door and revealed a woman with short white hair muttering incantations under her breath, surrounded by candles and white light.

“Now there’s a cleric of Selûne if I’ve ever seen one,” Gale said.

“And just how many of those have you come across?” Shadowheart sniffed.

“Quite a lot in my studies, actually. I’ve read about this one cleric of Selûne who-”

“Stop speaking,” Lae’zel hissed as you and your party made their way onto the balcony with Isobel. 

An orb of light appeared in Isobel’s hand and she spun her hands around it, making it grow bigger and brighter with moon magic. High above your heads, a full moon somehow shown down on you, despite Shar’s curse. The eight of you remained silent as she thrust the orb upwards where it met the barrier of the moonshield and reinforced the entire thing with a burst of light. 

Isobel looked up to admire her work before coughing weakly and turning around to face you all. “I didn’t realize I had an audience.”

“Really?” Astarion crossed his arms. “I mean, with me, I can understand, but they sound like a stampede of wild gnolls.” He gestured to the rest of you. 

Isobel gave him an amused half smile. “Please,” she extended a hand back into her room, “join me inside.” 

You purposely let the others go ahead of you and grabbed Astarion’s wrist before he could slip past you again. “I have things I need to say to you,” you said quietly.

“Perhaps later,” he responded, pulling his arm from your grasp and nearly tripping back into Isobel’s chambers. 

You rolled your eyes and followed him in, only to be addressed directly by Isobel herself.

“The True Soul who’s come to save us all.” She looked you up and down and smiled. “I’m Isobel. Pleased to meet you.” She finished with a small bow.

“And you,” you returned her bow and saw Karlach mimic it out of the corner of your eye. “We’ve been told you’re the protector of this inn - the banisher of shadows.” You wiggled your fingers as if telling small children about the boogeyman.

Isobel laughed lightly. “Myself and Our Lady are doing what we can to hold the line. I hear you and your tadpole will be our offense.” 

“Show us what to slay and it shall be done,” Lae’zel offered matter-of-factly.

Isobel scanned your group thoughtfully, the black paint around her eyes making her irises look piercingly blue. “All of you… free from the Absolute’s influence, yet able to walk among cultists. It’s almost too good to be true.”

“Uh, that it is,” Halsin said. “I, myself, remain tadpole free. Though I seek to help rid this land of the shadows that dwell here.”

“Then Our Lady thanks you most graciously,” Isobel nodded towards Halsin and he looked pleased by her approval. She turned back to you. “I’d be a poor cleric indeed not to avail of a blessing when I see one.” 

“Hear that?” Karlach nudged Wyll. “We’re a blessing.”

“We’ll certainly try to earn the praise,” Wyll chuckled. 

“Let me guess,” Isobel raised her eyebrows, assessing your group again, “Jaheira sent you all to beg a protection spell off her favorite cleric.” 

“You got it,” Gale confirmed. 

“If you wouldn’t mind,” Karlach added.

“With pleasure,” Isobel laughed. 

She closed her eyes as a golden column of light overtook her entire being. Lifting an arm above her head, her entire body turned gold until the light concentrated into only the hand she had raised in the air. She brought it down and held it in front of you, palm facing outwards. 

Suddenly, you were all surrounded by the same column of golden light that enveloped Isobel, and a warm calmness overtook your senses. 

Suddenly you knew that the shadows would subside and that you all would be bathed in the peaceful light of the moon once again.

Suddenly, it felt like everything was going to be okay. 

“Tingly,” you remarked.

“Perfect,” Isobel smiled. “That spell will make you immune to the lesser effects of the shadow curse, which will get you closer to the towers.”

“Thank you,” you said, observing your limbs and noticing how they now vaguely glowed with moon magic. Your companions seemed to be doing the same.

“But,” Isobel continued, “there are places it won’t help - places where the curse is darker. Stronger.” 

“And we will destroy these stronger shadows,” Lae’zel lifted her head confidently. 

Isobel exhaled slowly. “The cultists are able to traverse even the deepest shadows, though. I don’t know how - the Harpers are trying to figure it out.”

Shadowheart, who seemed to be more interested in the glowing of her limbs than the rest of you, looked up at Isobel with a scowl. “Selûnite magic. Dark Lady forgive me.”

“Good nose,” Isobel said sarcastically. “Like a nasty little terrier.”

Lae’zel snorted. “She already proclaimed herself to be a follower of Selûne. Were you not listening?”

Shadowheart shot her a glare. 

“Well, this has been lovely,” Astarion said, making his way to the door leading back into the inn proper. “Anything else we should know before we head off to save the day?” He was already halfway out the door, not bothering to wait for an answer, clearly trying to make a stealthy exit. 

You eyed Halsin, who nodded and retrieved the rogue by his arm before he could leave, closing the door behind both of them for good measure.

“Let me go, you humongous imbecile!” Astarion pounded his free arm against Halsin’s chest before Halsin released him and refused to let him move a muscle towards the door. Astarion huffed and crossed his arms, turning his nose up at the rest of you.

“Is he okay?” Isobel asked. 

“This is relatively normal behavior from him, actually,” Karlach said. 

“But please,” you waved a hand in front of yourself, “is there anything else we should know?”

Isobel thought for a moment. “Ketheric is a frightening man. But you have something he doesn’t: allies worth having.” 

You felt a wave of pride wash over you and your companions. 

“Daw,” Karlach kicked at the floorboard under her feet. “That’s very sweet.”

Isobel gave her a small smile. “While you’re all busy at the towers, I’ll be sure to-” 

She froze. 

“Wait. Do you hear that?”

The eight of you strained to hear what she could be referring to. 

Astarion clicked his tongue loudly. “I don’t hear-”

Isobel interrupted him. “Something’s wrong.”

That’s when you finally heard it: The beating of wings followed by a man landing hard on Isobel’s balcony. He wore the uniform of a Flaming Fist, and the way his wings moved seemed new and unnatural. He stood and retracted the black, feathery abominations, before exhaling and walking into the room. 

“Hello, Isobel.”

“Marcus,” Isobel breathed, “is that you? What’s happened to you?”

Halsin leaned forward. “I take it, you know this man?”

“I’ve been blessed,” Marcus said before Isobel could answer. “You can be, too. Come with me and you can hear all about it from Ketheric himself.”

“Isobel,” you said, not taking your eyes off Marcus, “who is this man?”

“He’s a Flaming Fist!” she exclaimed. “Or was. He came with the others when we created this haven.” 

“There are more Fists here?” Wyll muttered. 

Marcus addressed Isobel, “And I thank you for your hospitality.” Then he turned towards you.

You felt the familiar squirm of your tadpole being probed. Much to your dismay, Marcus’s voice rang out inside your head. 

“True Soul, my instructions are clear: take the girl to Ketheric.”

You wrinkled your nose, hating the sensation of his unwanted presence in your brain. In an act of defiance, you needled further into his own mind. 

A haunting face swam into your mind’s eye, its instructions vivid: “nothing is more important than bringing the girl - alive.”

Isobel must have seen the sour expression on your face because she turned towards Marcus aggressively. “What’s going on? If you have something to say, say it.”

“Marcus is trying to kidnap you, Isobel” you narrowed your eyes at the Fist. You looked back at your party, all of whom were already getting into battle positions. You turned to Marcus and took one step forward, bending your knees and dropping into a fighting stance. “Looks like we’re going to have to fight our way out of this one.”

Isobel’s eyes went wide.

“Pathetic,” Marcus spat. “The Absolute sees all - your treachery will be punished!” 

“The Absolute,” Isobel repeated before scowling. “Of course.” She gave Marcus a pleading look when she said, “You can’t believe them, Marcus. Ketheric will never give you whatever it is you’ve been promised.”

Marcus chuckled darkly and spread his hideous wings. “He already has.” He looked at her dead in the eyes. “Time to go, Isobel.”

With that, he reared backwards and roared loudly, far louder than any human of his size should be able to manage. You all stood in horror as you heard screeches and roars from Winged Horrors that flew abruptly into the inn and Isobel’s room. Already, you could hear shouting and screams from down below.

Isobel lifted a hand into the air. “Moonmaiden, guide my hand!”

Before she could cast anything, Marcus let out another piercing roar, knocking you all off guard.

Gale, who’d been standing out of his range, ran forward, a spell already prepped in his hand. When his touch connected with Isobel, she vanished; invisible.

“Good thinking, Gale!” you shouted, pulling your lute off your back and strumming some inspiration in his direction. 

Karlach and Lazel were already knocking back the Winged Horrors with their weapons, while Wyll thrust his rapier towards Marcus. Halsin shifted into bear form and growled at the Fist before taking a slash at him. Shadowheart summoned a circle of Spirit Guardians and rushed into the fray.

“We need to check on the others!” you shouted above the din of the battle. “I think they’ve got it covered in here!”

Astarion twirled a dagger in his hand. “Excellent idea, my darling,” he smirked before thrusting open the doors out into the inn.

To your shock and horror, you both found Raphael standing there, nonchalantly checking his nails. 

“Ah!” he said with fake surprise when he finally acknowledged you both standing there. “Just the lovebirds I was looking for. Remember that favor I mentioned earlier?”

“Right now?!” you cried in disbelief, gesturing to the chaos around you. You witnessed Jaheira shift into a jaguar and swat a Winged Horror out of the air. 

Raphael chuckled. “Oh, I think right now is the perfect time.” He raised his hand.

You and Astarion exchanged frantic glances.

“Wait!” Astarion shouted.

Raphael snapped his fingers.

And everything went black.

[darksigns-exe]

the night and the light | prologue

a bad omens cyberpunk au

warnings: mentions of violence, guns, blood, scars

word count: 676

Wind rushes through her hair, throwing it back into her face. The city below her rushes along, never stopping its constant, restless movement. It never stops. Night City always moves – never sleeps. She watches quietly as it continues to writhe like a worm. Sometimes she wonders how she manages to keep up with it at all, or if she even does. 

The past year seems so inconsequential now that it lays behind her. In the grand scheme of things, nothing much has changed. She’s grown a year older, learned a thing or two, but apart from that, she doesn’t feel too different. Maybe she’d grown a little more resentful of the noise and the dirt below. 

So many lives had been lost, uselessly thrown into the aether, and sometimes she wonders if it had even been worth it. There had been so much death and destruction in their wake, so many lives that didn’t need to end yet. Sometimes she can still see the blood on her hands. But in the harsh neon lights of the city it quickly vanishes again. There’s always something, something more exciting, a new advertisement, a new face. Something always happens, and her mind just can’t stand still anymore. 

A set of arms wraps around her middle. She doesn’t need to look to know who they belong to. The coloured lines of ink and scar that line his skin make him so easy to identify. His chin comes to rest against her shoulder, and she knows what he’s going to say before he even opens his mouth. 

We could just leave, you know.

And she isn’t surprised when he says those exact words. 

He gets these wistful moods every now and again. But they both know that they’ll never leave Night City. 

No one does – not forever, at least. 

The second they’ll leave the noise and the crowds behind, and they’re alone, everything will change. And that terrifies her. She doesn’t quiet know how to be a person without the lights around her, and she doesn’t know how they’ll be when there’s nothing around them to distract them from the glaring issues they both have. 

But maybe that’s exactly what they need right now. 

She lets her head drop back against his chest. She’s never felt safe in these streets, not until she’d met him. And even then, it had taken her some time until she had felt safe around him. 

“We could all just pack up and leave. Go somewhere else.” he continues, voice still soft and gentle, “One of these gigs will be the last. One way or another.” 

She knows that he’s right. 

One of these days, a bullet will hit one of them and there won’t be anything that can be done about it. There’s a solid chance that it won’t even happen on a gig. She’s witnessed enough people falling victim to stray bullets. 

Sirens blare below as gunshots tear through the white noise of the city. She hasn’t flinched at the sounds in years. 

She does now. 

Instinctively, his arms tighten around her middle. Not to restrain, but to safeguard. He’s warm, comforting, even if he doesn’t want to admit it. That cold, hard shell has been started to show cracks. He’s not growing soft, no, it’s something else, something she doesn’t want to admit to herself yet. 

She feels content here when he holds her like this. 

But there has to be more to it all, right? More than just being content with how the world is. 

More than being content with being who she is. 

There’s a whole world outside of this city, and she has barely dared to venture outside of its borders. Perhaps it is time to peek past the edge of his proverbial plate. A year ago, she would have questioned her sanity for even thinking that, but now it feels as if her eyes are truly open for the first time. 

She leans further against him, and his embrace somehow grows just a little tighter. 

“Maybe we should.” 

maybe. 

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[aviiarie]

heya aves!! could I req alhaitham for ( ❤️ ) — IRIS sonder and taciturn? thanksths:3

cws & notes. no warnings. alhaitham x gn!reader. angst, but with a hopeful ending. 700+ words. eek i hope this is okay, it didn't turn out how i'd hoped.

Doubts, you always had doubts when it came to Alhaitham.

Not any sort of big ones, nothing to shake you to your core, leaving you stumbling on your feet with each step. Just small ones. Small, silly, inconsequential doubts, that worm their way through your brain, and bury themselves into the cracks of your mind. Annoying little insects is all they are, nothing more than a fly buzzing by your ear.

Still, their whispers never waver, no matter how much logic you try to soothe them with. You wished you could say they didn't bother you, you wished you were able to put them to rest once and for all, but they always seem to linger like a bad cologne.

Your lover has always been the quiet type; never silent, just quiet. His words are measured, clipped and precise, not wasting a single breath more than is necessary. It never bothered you before; you easily wrote it off as just his temperament, but it didn't take long to feel the strain.

No matter how many times you told him you loved him, it was rare to hear it said back to you. And maybe it was a fault of your own, for only working up the courage to say it in a playful, light-hearted tone, when on the inside you were aching to hear it sincerely, but it hurt. Much more than you were willing to admit.

During the days when you were separate, you'd wander the streets with a frown settled over your features, watching mournfully over the young couples milling around. Sumeru was never empty, no matter the time of day or corner of the city you visited, so you were never lacking in strangers to watch.

It almost pained you to see, the ones who loved and were loved so easily. All wrapped up in their own lives, not noticing your stare, they giggled to themselves, exchanging kisses and affections without a care in the world. They had their own places to go, things to do, people to love, but all you had was...

Doubts.

Alhaitham was never like that. He was never outwardly callous or cruel, never to you, but it wasn't like he made much of an effort to soften up either. From an outside looking in, it would be hard to distinguish any romance between the two of you at all. It was just his nature, you reasoned with yourself, but your mind still wondered.

“You love me, don't you?” You eventually asked. The silence stretched wide between you two, thick enough to be sliced with the knife in Alhaitham's hand. The utensil was frozen in his grasp, hovering above the vegetables he was in the midst of chopping up.

“Of course I do.” He frowned, resuming his cutting. “Why are you asking?”

“You never say it.” There was no other way to put it, than as bluntly as possible. Perhaps the rarity of the words is what brings them more meaning, but it didn't exactly put you at ease.

“I love you.” For the first time, he sounded uncertain. Your eyes stung with unshed tears, but you held his gaze. “I do. I thought you knew that.”

And of course you knew. Past the poisonous part of your mind that hissed if he really loved you, he'd show it, is the knowledge that Alhaitham would never waste his time with someone he didn't care about. A while ago, it might even have been enough, but the comfort was wearing thin.

“I'm... sorry.” He said slowly, placing the knife down. “I didn't realize you were so affected. I'll try to be more... outward with my affections. If that is something you desire.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, mulling over the words. “Promise?”

“I promise.”

All you can do is nod, holding the vow close to your heart. Your lover might be quiet, but what he does say, he means. When he tells you he's trying, you believe him without resistance, because you know it is fact. And even after your dinner, when you're washing up alone, with the doubt still present in the back of your head, you trust in his word.

Because you know he keeps his promises.

✦ IRIS : promises are just words unless they can actually keep them. ✦ SONDER : the profound feeling of realizing that everyone, including strangers passing in the street, has a life as complex as one's own. ✦ TACITURN : silent; temperamentally untalkative; disinclined to speak.

written for the @stellaronhvnters love letters event ♡

© aviiarie 2024. do not copy, repost, translate or use my work to train ai

[raayllum]

Spark notes on "Callum lost his true heart" in S2. Excellent true heart meta here by @kradogsrats on how the concept works more generally that I would 100% recommend reading before coming back here

The true heart is a gift of childhood. For a few wonder-filled years, we each have innocent eyes to experience the world’s beauty in a simple way. 

We see Callum on the cusp of being 15 undeniably believing that the resolution to the war can be that simple (even if we know well before S7, wherein Aaravos directly says they have similar views of how the world works, that Callum does not hold onto this simplicity for long). This is demonstrated, as Krads points out, in Callum's conversation in 1x02:

CALLUM: Can't you just make peace with them? HARROW: It's not that simple. CALLUM: It seems pretty simple to me. You don't want to die, I'm sure the elves and dragons don't want to die, so everyone agrees.

This emphasis on what people want over what they're devoted/committed to ("I'm sure they don't want to die" -> "I am already dead") is similar to Ezran's in arc 2 ("We all want peace and we all want love [...] you want to hurt someone else") that is both dismantled and upheld ("You want Janai to attack!" / "I want them to hurt"). To hammer it in further, Harrow even denotes that Callum is operating under the illusion of childhood, where adults have all the power/freedom.

What happens, I think, over the course of season one and season two is a bit of a domino effect, with Callum making choices in season one that season two continually 'knocks' down so to speak. The first and easiest example, perhaps, is Callum's choice in 1x03 between staying and trying to save Harrow... or choosing his little brother, who will remain in danger the longer they stay at the castle (Runaan and Viren both presenting strong antagonistic forces) and even worse danger the longer the egg remains.

Callum glanced out a tower window and saw Ezran in the courtyard searching for him. But how could he leave the tower when the king was in so much danger? Callum tried to think of what the king would want him to do. “I’m coming, Ez,” he called out the window. He gave one final look back at the door to King Harrow’s chamber, then bolted to the spiral staircase. He took the stairs two at a time, trying not to look at the dead bodies strewn on the way to his little brother.

—Book One: Moon novelization

Now, this choice makes sense. It is in many ways just another version of the same one (choosing Ezran and his safety) that Callum had made earlier this same episode. Both are more complicated choices ("the right thing, I hope" does not beget certainty, and therefore does not beget simplicity) but we'll get to that in a moment.

The final domino set up in season one for Callum's true heart is, I think, choosing to destroy the primal stone. The reason I say these are the dominoes, so to speak, is because each of these choices are made in a very distinctly Callum-y way, by which I mean: he thinks to a certain degree he can skirt the consequences.

This is not to take away from the weight of the choices Callum is making — they're still sacrifices, they're still honourable, he's still aware that he's risking Something — but there's still clearly a 'block' of some kind between "this is what I'm choosing to sacrifice" and "this is the full consequential weight of my sacrifices".

For example, the primal stone means a great deal to Callum. He states that "without this, I'm nothing" and it's a great powerful tool of magic. However, when Callum destroys it, it is currently unknown to him that this means no more magic, point blank. The consequence for his choice is steeper than he'd imagined, and now he has to live with the reality of it (for a time, anyway, but it's not like the journey to primal magic isn't gruelling, anyway).

But as we grow up, we are forced to make choices, sacrifices, compromises. And they change us forever. 

The same happens when it comes to learning about Harrow's death. Callum was happily writing him a letter two episodes ago, reassuring Ezran in 1x03, etc etc. And yet:

Callum made a sacrifice, then convinced himself that maybe he hadn't, and had to face the devastating reality of what he knew was most likely, on top of why Rayla wasn't able to tell him for the same reason(s) he couldn't tell Ezran.

I also want to highlight Claudia (and Soren)'s betrayal of Callum as well for two reasons. The first, and less interesting/important one in some ways (to me, anyway) is that if Callum's betrayal of 7x02 contributes to the last vestiges of Ezran's true heart being snapped to pieces, it would make sense that Claudia's betrayal would likewise contribute to Callum's.

The more interesting/important facet of the Callum/Claudia breakdown is, to me, what happens before Claudia shows her true colours, and whereupon she hasn't done anything (knowingly) wrong to Callum yet, and still:

RAYLA: Callum, I know you trust them, but if we let them come with us, by the time we know the truth, it'll be too late. Do you understand? We'll lose everything. CALLUM: So what do we do? How can we figure out if it's help, or a trap?

Callum has already made a Compromise. He trusts Claudia, but Rayla doesn't, and he ultimately trusts Rayla more than Claudia, even this early on, the same way he trusted Ezran more than Claudia (and didn't trust Claudia with Ezran, then) in 1x03. So he goes along with the illusion plan, which would've been pretty crappy to do to an old friend if Claudia (and Soren) had been genuine in their offer to help.

So I think in quick succession over a few days, most if not all of Callum's true heart gets shredded to pieces within the first few episodes of season two. Barring that, I think 2x07, specifically the choice to do dark magic, takes whatever remains.

AARAVOS: You call it corruption. I call it compromise.

'Could he really bring himself to go through with his plan? What if he didn’t succeed? What if he compromised his beliefs and it was all for nothing? […] But Rayla was in trouble.' —book two: sky novelization

While Aaravos lists off choices, sacrifices, and compromises as though they are separate things, and occasionally they can be, I think more often than not in life and within TDP that they are all the same thing.

Do you choose (sacrifice) your father or your baby brother? Do you sacrifice your oldest friendship (compromise) to ensure your travelling party can be safe? Do you use dark magic (a compromise, a sacrifice of yourself) to save someone you love?

And Callum's dark magic use falls into his previous pattern of you made a choice, and you knew there would be consequences, but you never dreamed it'd be This. And finally — finally — in 5x08, Callum makes a choice with the full knowledge of the consequences, of exactly what he's risking — and what he refuses to sacrifice.

His true heart has been gone for a while by this point, I think — but within the narrative, Callum is an adult from 5x08 onwards. He knows undeniably what he'll sacrifice and why, and what he won't.

(Something something sacrificing your true heart to protect the person who is your heart and your truth.)

[acepalindrome]

It’s Taash who mentions Manfred over dinner. A thoughtless act, clearly not meant to provoke or upset. They had found a pretty rock while exploring that day. Not a gem, not shiny, probably not valuable, but bright and colorful. It looked like something Manfred would have liked to collect.

They realize it the moment the name leaves their mouth. “Shit, sorry,” they say, eyes widening and glancing guiltily down the table to Emmrich.

He waves the apology off with a wan smile. It’s perfectly alright. He wouldn’t dream of forbidding his friends to speak of Manfred. He had been their friend too, and they have every right to remember him however they see fit.

Manfred should be remembered. He deserves that. He made a choice, a brave and selfless choice. Emmrich had made a choice too. They are both at peace. They have both found immortality, in their own ways. What more could they ask for?

He doesn’t speak these thoughts to the table, but it’s just that he had been feeling off that day. Heavy and sluggish. A side effect of adjusting to his new form, perhaps. It’s no cause for concern.

He turns his attention instead to the table setting in front of him. He can no longer eat, but his friends still set a place for him at every meal. They are so very kind.

There is an empty plate, an empty glass, and an empty mug, if anyone should wish for after dinner tea or coffee.

Thoughts of tea bubble up unbidden. Guiding curious hands to fill a kettle to boil. A delighted hiss at the rising steam. Skeletal fingers swishing through the vapor, perfectly fascinated by the mundane. A childlike wonder and joy in the smallest of things.

Emmrich would never watch Manfred play with the steam again.

Something is wrong. Emmrich’s glamor feels…strange, too warm. He looks up and realizes that the table is staring at him with varying degrees of concern and pity.

He touches his face, and realizes what has drawn their attention. His glamor is…leaking, somehow. Fluid is running out of his eyes, down his cheeks, dripping off his chin. It’s not supposed to do that. There is some component of liquid in the glamor to make it appear appropriately lifelike, but it doesn’t…it’s shouldn’t…

He jerks back from the table, perhaps the most alarmed of any in attendance. Stammers his apologies and excuses as he hastily scrubs the fluid off his face. No cause for concern, it’s just that something has malfunctioned with his glamor. He would need to step away to repair it. Please, continue your meal.

Rook reaches for him, their eyes sad, but he flees the dining room before they can do more to stop him. He drops the glamor the minute he’s out of sight, and retreats to the privacy of his room.

He spends the rest of the night trying to find out what went wrong. He checks every minute detail of the enchantment, but he can’t find anything amiss. But there much be something. Otherwise he would have to accept that perhaps the only flaw was that the glamor was a little too accurate in reflecting its wearer’s heart.

[earthlybeam]

Hey! I love your post so much!!

I was wondering if requests were open if you could do elves with a reader with a strong accent / uses a lot of slang. Maybe they are a modern person who finds themselves in middle earth or are from a distant land and they speak differently and the elves find them difficult to understand or interesting. Like how they would react to an accent they have never heard before.

Could you do Thranduil, Gil-Galad and Elrond. Thanks so much!!

Thank you so much for your kind words! I’m really glad you enjoyed my post! 🥺🫶 The idea of a reader with a strong accent or slang from a modern world—or a distant land—finding themselves in Middle Earth is such a fun concept!🤌 The elves’ reactions to something so foreign would be so interesting. I can imagine them being curious, a bit confused at first, and maybe even a little amused by the strange words and expressions. 🤣🙌

Gil-Galad, Thranduil, Elrond version below.

🏵️𝓖𝓲𝓵-𝓰𝓪𝓵𝓪𝓭

The moonlight bathed the shores of Lindon in a pale, ethereal glow. The wind stirred the trees, and the distant waves created a rhythmic sound that mingled with the soft murmurs of the Elves as they moved about their evening tasks. Gil-galad, High King of the Noldor, stood upon a balcony, his dark cloak billowing behind him as he gazed out over the sea, lost in thought. The weight of his position was heavy, as it always was, but tonight something tugged at him—an unfamiliar presence, one he had not anticipated.

Cirdan, the shipwright and his trusted ally, had told him of the arrival of a visitor from a distant land, someone who did not belong to the world of Middle-earth as he knew it. A mortal, perhaps? Yet Gil-galad did not know, for the stranger’s origins were as mysterious as their speech.

“High king,” came Cirdan’s voice, breaking the silence. His tone was thoughtful, even with the faintest hint of amusement. “Your guest has arrived. I believe… they are not quite like us.” Gil-galad turned to face him, his gaze sharp. “Not like us?” he asked, his brow furrowing in curiosity. “There is much about their manner and words that is… unlike anything we know here,” Cirdan said with a slight smile, his eyes glinting. “I believe it will intrigue you.”

“I see,” Gil-galad replied, his voice calm but laced with an undercurrent of interest. “Show them in.” Moments later, you appeared before him, striding across the stone courtyard with an energy that immediately set you apart from the Elves around you. Gil-galad’s sharp eyes took you in—the unfamiliar clothes, the confident but unrefined manner, and the way you looked at him with a blend of curiosity and… amusement? You were clearly not from around here, that much was evident. You gave a small, almost mischievous smile. “Hey there, big guy,” you said, taking in the grandness of Lindon with a casual wave of your hand. “This place is, like, wild. What’s with all the fancy towers and perfect hair?”

Gil-galad blinked, surprised. Your words were laced with a peculiar accent—one he had never heard before. And the way you spoke… It was unlike the soft and measured tones of the Elves, full of unfamiliar slang and casual ease. His eyes flickered toward Cirdan, seeking some explanation.

“You speak… differently,” Gil-galad said, his voice smooth, though there was an edge of confusion in it. “I do not understand all that you say.” You raised an eyebrow, glancing at him with an easy smile, unfazed by his apparent confusion. “Oh, sorry, yeah. I tend to ramble, don’t I?” you said, laughing. “I mean, I’m just sayin’ this place is, like, really somethin’. I thought it’d be all mystical and glowing but it’s got this vibe, you know?”

Gil-galad frowned slightly, still trying to piece together the meaning behind your words. Vibe? Mystical? He understood the individual words, of course, but the way they were strung together was a puzzle. “Vibe?” he asked, his tone almost imperceptibly softer. “What do you mean by… ‘vibe’? And how do you speak so quickly?”

You chuckled, shrugging with a casual air, your arms crossing. “It’s just the way we talk back home. I dunno if you folks are big on slang or anything, but ‘vibe’ means… like the overall feel of a place, you know? Like how the air feels when you walk into a room.” Gil-galad’s brow furrowed deeper. The Noldor were known for their language, refined and ancient, carrying the weight of their long history. To hear something so informal, so unpolished as your words, was… strange. He had never encountered anything like it.

“It seems you… speak in a way I do not fully comprehend,” Gil-galad admitted, choosing his words carefully, his usual control slipping just a little as he tried to process your speech. “The Elven tongues have many layers, but your words are—” he paused, searching for the right term, “—different.” You grinned widely, clearly enjoying the mix of fascination and bewilderment in his voice. “Guess I’m a bit of a puzzle, huh? Yeah, I get it. It’s like how you folks talk with all your big words and formal stuff, and I’m over here just… keepin’ it casual.”

Gil-galad’s lips twitched, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He wasn’t sure if he had ever been so thrown off by someone’s way of speaking, but there was something… endearing about it. Despite the confusion, despite the difficulty in understanding you fully, there was a rawness in your presence that reminded him of the more untamed parts of Middle-earth—the parts he often tried to control, to order.

“You are…” Gil-galad’s voice trailed off as he studied you, searching for the right words. “You are not from here, are you?” You shook your head, still smiling. “Nah, I’m not. You could say I’m from, like, a whole different world or something. But that’s a story for another time.” You met his gaze, your eyes bright, almost teasing. “Not that you’d probably understand it, what with all the old-world mystic vibes and all.” Gil-galad’s expression softened, though it remained composed. “I have lived long, and in many lands,” he said slowly. “But even I have not encountered a tongue such as yours.”

“And that’s what makes me fun, right?” you quipped, winking at him. Gil-galad didn’t reply immediately, his gaze thoughtful as he tried to digest your words. You were so different from him, and yet, there was something in your manner that was oddly appealing. You were free, untethered by the constraints of Elven nobility, yet there was no mistaking the respect you gave him. “You speak with such… enthusiasm,” he remarked. “It is unlike anything I have heard in all my years. There is a certain charm in it.”

“Charming, huh?” You let out a laugh. “I’m not exactly refined like the rest of your people, but I’ll take it. So what’s your deal, King Gil-galad? What do you really do around here besides stand around lookin’ all serious?” Gil-galad’s lips curved into a rare, faint smile. “I do more than stand, I assure you,” he said, his tone a touch warmer now. “But I do believe it is time I learn more of this… language of yours.”

“Yeah, I’m down to teach ya,” you said, crossing your arms. “I can be your personal translator for the day. I’m sure we’ll get along just fine. Might take a minute to get used to the way I talk, though.” Gil-galad studied you carefully, something about your openness and candidness intriguing him. You were no diplomat, no ruler, no ancient elf with thousands of years of history behind you. But there was a sincerity in the way you carried yourself—something raw and unpretentious that reminded him that not all wisdom came from ages past.

“I think we shall manage,” Gil-galad said with a nod, a spark of amusement in his eyes. “Perhaps you will teach me to be less formal as well.” You laughed at that, the sound rich and warm in the quiet night. It was strange, in a way, to feel so at ease in the presence of a king who had lived for so long, but somehow, you both seemed to understand that there was more to life than just ancient traditions and formal speech.

The evening stretched on, filled with laughter and words neither of you fully understood, but both willing to learn. And as the stars glittered above them, Gil-galad found, for the first time in a long while, that perhaps the most important lessons were not those learned in battle or diplomacy, but those learned in the most unexpected of conversations.

🍷𝓣𝓱𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓾𝓲𝓵

The air in the Woodland Realm was still, the ancient trees standing as silent sentinels to the kingdom’s secrets. Thranduil stood with a regal poise on the edge of his grand hall, his gaze fixed on the figure before him. The stranger—an unusual one, by his standards—stood confidently in the clearing. Their presence was a stark contrast to the elegance of the Elves. The fabric of their clothes, though somewhat practical, looked foreign. But it was the way they spoke that caught Thranduil off guard.

The words tumbled from their lips in a manner entirely foreign to his ears. The accent was thick, with an odd cadence, and the slang they used danced around his mind, just out of reach. He could catch a few familiar words, but much of the meaning eluded him. “Ya gotta be kiddin’ me,” the voice came, and Thranduil’s brow furrowed as he tried to make sense of the tone. “This place is nuts… like, proper middle of nowhere, right? Never thought I’d end up here, honestly. Guess you lot don’t get many people from the… uh, not-forest places.”

Thranduil tilted his head, an elegant motion, as his sharp elven ears struggled to catch the meaning. Middle of nowhere? He had never heard such a phrase. His people did not speak of the world in such terms. And “not-forest places”? What could that mean? “Your speech,” Thranduil began, his voice calm yet with an undercurrent of controlled curiosity, “it is strange to my ears. Where do you hail from, exactly?”

The figure in front of him straightened, clearly aware that they were under scrutiny. They scratched the back of their neck in a casual, almost dismissive manner that only added to Thranduil’s growing intrigue. “Oh, um… that’s a bit of a long story,” they replied with a shrug, their accent thick but the words were clearly meant for simplicity. “Guess I just kinda fell into this… whole thing, y’know? Not really my fault, but now that I’m here, what’s the deal with all the shiny stuff? And the trees, man—these things are huge. Bet the squirrels are like, super chill, huh?”

Thranduil’s lips parted slightly as he processed the strange jumble of words. “Shiny stuff? Squirrels? Your words are a confusing riddle. Elves speak in a manner more… precise.” His sharp gaze swept over you, noting the way you moved with an ease that his people did not often display, a casualness that seemed to clash with the forest’s ancient rhythm. “Yeah, well… I ain’t exactly an elf,” you responded, chuckling as if the concept were simple. “But hey, I’ll get the hang of it, right?”

Thranduil’s sharp eyes narrowed, his attention suddenly focused more intently on you. There was something about the ease with which you handled your strange predicament that intrigued him. And yet, your words—your manner—it unsettled him, as if the foundation of all his knowledge was being subtly twisted. There was no dignity in the way you spoke, no formality. He leaned in slightly, curiosity mingling with an edge of caution. “You seem… unfamiliar with the ways of this world. How did you come to find yourself here?”

You blinked, taking a moment to gauge the seriousness in his tone. It was clear he wasn’t quite grasping your meaning, but the question wasn’t offensive. It was more… academic. There was an odd, almost disarming kindness in the way he looked at you, despite his regal airs. “Oh, that?” You grinned, a flicker of humor in your eyes. “You could say I… stumbled into this. Some kinda magic, or, well… let’s just call it a crazy ride, yeah?”

Thranduil took a step back, his golden hair shimmering in the dim light of the forest as he processed your words. He didn’t understand what you meant by “crazy ride,” but he felt something… amused by the strangeness of it. Perhaps it was your nonchalance, or the gleam in your eyes that didn’t quite match the bewilderment he expected from someone stranded in his realm. “You stumbled here, you say?” He regarded you for a moment, unable to hide the slight flicker of skepticism in his voice. “And now you wander freely, as though this is a matter of no importance?”

“Well, it’s kinda hard to make a fuss when the trees are talkin’ to you like they’re old friends,” you said, half-joking, as you gestured to the forest around you. “And no one really seems to know what’s goin’ on. I’m just rollin’ with it.” Thranduil’s gaze softened for a moment, the smallest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he took in your manner. He had never met a being so… different. Your casualness was a sharp contrast to the Elven decorum he had known for millennia. Yet, he could not help but feel something akin to admiration for your tenacity, even if your words made little sense to him.

“You are… unusual,” he said carefully, as if tasting the word on his tongue. “But you intrigue me. The language of your people… it is foreign to me, but perhaps there is something to be learned from it.” You raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? Well, glad to be of service, my dude.” You smirked, completely unaware of the significance of the moment.

Thranduil blinked slowly, his brow furrowing once more at the strange, informal tone. “My dude?” He repeated, unsure of the meaning. You chuckled at his confusion, the edge of amusement in your voice. “Right, I guess that’s more of a… human thing. Kinda like calling someone ‘pal,’ I guess?” Thranduil gave a slow nod, absorbing your explanation. “Pal…” He repeated, testing the word out. He wondered how such a simple term could hold so much meaning, but he didn’t linger on it. Instead, he took a step closer, his eyes sharpening. “It seems I have much to learn from you, though you will need to speak more clearly for me to understand your… distant language.”

There was an odd warmth in his voice now, a faint undercurrent of respect that wasn’t easily earned. It made you smile, though you couldn’t quite tell why. The enigmatic Elf King might be difficult to read, but there was something compelling in the way he regarded you. Perhaps this crazy ride had brought you more than just strange forests and talking trees. You grinned. “I can do that, no problem. You’ll get used to me.” You tilted your head, eyeing him playfully. “You sure you don’t wanna join me for some of that ‘crazy ride’?” Thranduil’s eyes gleamed, a glint of something unreadable flashing in them. “I think, perhaps, I will.”

📜 𝓔𝓵𝓻𝓸𝓷𝓭

The air in Rivendell was crisp, the sound of birdsong and gentle winds echoing through the valley. Elrond stood in his study, his brow furrowed in concentration as he gazed out over the peaceful landscape of Imladris. His thoughts were consumed by the weight of the decisions ahead, the choices of the Free Peoples, and the threat of Mordor looming in the distance. His centuries of wisdom had prepared him for many things, but not this.

The door to his study creaked open softly, and he turned, his piercing gaze landing on you. You had arrived in Rivendell only a short while ago, an outsider in a land that was both foreign and strange. You weren’t like the others. Your presence, the way you spoke, and the peculiar words that left your lips all intrigued him.

His eyes narrowed slightly as he caught the strange cadence in your voice, the strange rhythm of the words that you spoke. His Elvish ears, so attuned to the music of language, found your speech difficult to decipher. It wasn’t that your words were harsh; it was simply… different. He had heard many tongues in his long life, but never one quite like yours.

“Ah, so ye want me to sit here all proper-like, huh?” you said, stepping into the room with a playful grin, oblivious to the way your accent twisted the common tongue. Your speech was rough and carefree, filled with slang, like something foreign to his refined sensibilities. The words tumbled out of your mouth in rapid fire, a string of sounds Elrond found himself straining to understand.

He straightened, observing you with a mixture of curiosity and confusion. His brow furrowed in quiet contemplation as you continued to speak, leaning against the doorframe, clearly unaware of the slight hesitation in his stance. “Didn’t think a place like this would be so high and mighty, y’know? All these tall towers, fancy dresses,” you mused, glancing around the room, your voice carrying the energy of one who had not yet been swept into the formalities of their surroundings. “But it’s nice here, too—peaceful. Got my own thing, y’know? Can vibe with it.”

Elrond, ever the disciplined leader, took a step forward. His voice was measured and deliberate, his curiosity evident but still restrained. “I must admit, I find your manner of speech… unfamiliar, yet intriguing. Is this a tongue of your people? I confess, I do not recognize it. Where do you hail from?”

You leaned back, giving him a half-smile. “Oh, me? I’m just from a whole different world, mate. Not sure how I ended up here, but hey, it’s been a wild ride. Not used to all the fancy ways ‘round here. I’m more about the hustle, you know?” You spoke with a casual ease, completely unaware of how much your tone and the unfamiliar words startled him.

He blinked, trying to comprehend what you had said. There was a long silence before he finally responded, his voice low, laced with a softness that came from his deep curiosity. “You… speak of a ‘world’… a different world, I presume? A place not of Middle-earth?” His tone was full of the gentle curiosity of an ancient being trying to piece together the meaning of something wholly foreign to him.

“Yeah, something like that,” you replied with a shrug, clearly amused by his confusion. “I guess you could say I’m not exactly from these parts, but, hey, we all gotta make do with what we’ve got, right? No sense in overthinking it. I just… fit in, you know? It’s kinda like this big adventure for me.” Elrond found himself deeply intrigued by your words, your mannerisms, and the way your accent blended with your speech. It wasn’t just the strangeness of the words—it was the way you moved, the way you seemed at ease despite being surrounded by things so ancient and foreign. It was almost as though you didn’t quite fit into the world he had known for millennia, yet you stood there, as confident as the mightiest of kings.

“Your… words,” Elrond began, “are like no tongue I have heard. It is… not unpleasant, but curious. There is a rhythm in your speech, an energy that feels… out of place here, but also somehow fitting in a strange way.” You chuckled at his thoughtful tone, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah, that’s what they keep telling me. I guess I’m just not one for all that formal speech stuff. Seems a bit stiff to me, y’know? But I get why it’s important. You do your thing, I’ll do mine.”

Elrond looked at you, his expression softening as he took in your words. His fascination with you grew. He could see the way you navigated Rivendell’s ancient halls with an ease that defied the formalities the elves held dear. It was as though you were in your own world, one that wasn’t bound by time or rules, and yet here, in his presence, you were fully yourself. “You are… different,” Elrond said, his tone gentle. “But there is something captivating about you, something that speaks to me in a way no other has before. Though your ways may be foreign to us, I sense… a kindred spirit within you. One who is unafraid to embrace the unknown.”

You grinned widely at his words, moving closer to him. “Well, that’s me alright. Always up for something new. And hey, if you ever need someone to teach you how to talk with a bit more… flair, you know where to find me.” Elrond’s lips quirked upward ever so slightly at the suggestion, a soft, amused laugh escaping him. “Perhaps I shall take you up on that offer, though I doubt my old ears will ever fully understand the way you speak.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll get the hang of it,” you said, giving him a teasing wink. “I’m a good teacher.” And as you stood there, the distance between two worlds—one ancient, one new—seemed to shrink just a little. Despite your differences, despite the barriers of language and culture, a quiet understanding settled between you both, a bond forming in the quiet moments of curiosity and laughter. Elrond, the wise and ancient elf, found himself more intrigued than he ever expected, watching as you brought a breath of life, so full of wonder and uncertainty, into the timeless halls of Rivendell.

As for you, standing there before him, you couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of belonging. It was as if this land of elves had a place for you after all, even if you still had much to learn about it. And maybe, just maybe, Elrond—the ancient elf lord—wasn’t as distant as he first seemed.

[rrat-king]

Some combination of Mordred Manor residents and number 20 for the fic prompt game perhaps?

I hope you are having a nice day/night/time

thank you my love i hop you are also having a wonderful day/night time!!!!

20. “It’s 8:30, I have a hangover and you’re annoying me.”

-

There were seldom moments that Aelwyn got to herself, so in the reletive quiet of the midmorning in Mordred, she basked in the odd time alone.

Well, she supposed "alone" was a relative term as she pushed one of the cats aside with her ankle, careful not to step on his paws as he seemed on a mission to tangle himself between her legs and cane.

The cats didn't count. If they did, Adaine wouldn't have worried about her being alone in her apartment, but then again that might have had something to do with the state of said apartment. Who needs a security deposit back when the whole complex goes up in flames?

If she flinched as the kettle whistled on the stove, that was between her and the cats. Her head pulsed a steady, irritating beat, yelling her to drink water, but tea would have to suffice. Even her own poor choices the night before could not perseuade her to drink from the tap and she knew that the filtered water in the fridge was empty. Not that she was going to be the one to refill it.

Peace, in the form of tea and Dexter, her particularly gnarly looking tabby, curling up on her feet, was rudely interrupted as footsteps, clomping and clumsy, rang out as someone came downstairs.

Sadly, Aelwyn knew who.

Kristen Applebees in all her strange, disfuntional glory managed to come into the kitchen with enough noise to rival the cacophony that usually accompanied the bad kids in totality. Aelwyn wondered if their numbers were just covering up for the unfortunate fact that thier cleric seemed louder than most gods.

Her cats, as they usually did whenever Kristen was around, fled. Aelwyn only had a moment to mourn the loss of her foot warmer before her eyes landed on Kristen, swallowing down the barbs at the state of her.

Adaine said she could afford to be a little bit nicer to Kristen. Aelwyn thought maybe Kristen could afford to give her less ammo. As it was, she was too tired to come up with anything too scathing, instead just sipping at her tea and raising an unimpressed eyebrow.

For what it was worth, Kristen seemed shaken enough by the lack of comment that she considered it a success, though that shakyness did not deter her from coming right up to Aelwyn, only shifting slightly to dig through the fridge.

"Shouldn't you be at work?" Kristen asked, head deep in the refridgerator.

"Shouldn't you be at school?"

Kristen didn't say anything, instead huffing as she discovered what Aelwyn had to assume was the empty water pitcher. She pulled it out, setting it next to the sink but not bothering to fill it. At least Aelwyn had someone else to blame then.

Her head was still pounding and even leaning against the counter, Aelwyn could feel her knees begining to ache. She half wanted another cup of tea, but she was only a few sips into her first cup and didn't care to be in the company of her sister's strange friend longer than necessary.

She was thinking of whether she could get away with just taking the kettle whole cloth when she realized she was being watched.

Kristen had turned at somepoint, looking at her more carefully than Aelwyn could deal with. "What's your deal?" she asked, far too much drippy empathy in her voice. The house was full of saps who didn't know how to mind their own buisness.

"It's 8:30, I have a hangover and you're annoying me," she told her bluntly, silently hoping she could intimidate her way out of having to deal with this mini Jawbone.

The barb seemed to pass her by, Kristen instead smiling, if just only a quirk a the side of her mouth.

It took Aelwyn a moment to realize what was happening, only recognizing the fact that she was being healed as purple twilight seemed to glimmer in the air around her, the ache in her head and knees cooling under pine-scented balm.

Maybe she was expecting a thank you, or some sappy talk of family and taking care of each other, but Aelwyn, despite the kind if invasive gesture, was not one for big sappy speeches. The most annoying part of it was that Kristen didn't even seem to mind, instead turning around to to grab a mug off of the drying rack and fill it with tap water.

It took her watching Kristen put the mug in the microwave to realize what she was doing, Aelwyn huffing out a sigh as she pressed the cancel button. Kristen looked like she was going to say something, but was quieted as Aelwyn shot her a look.

She didn't care about being healed, or sappy family bullshit, but she couldn't watch someone make microwave tea. It was sacralige.

Instead, she pulled out clean cup from the cupboard, one she was half certain once belonged to Tracker but was certain she had seen Kristen use before. She poured the rest of the kettle into the cup, setting it infront of Kristen and walking away.

It was only once she had made her way into the livingroom that she heard a too loud "thank you" called after her.

-

this uh. this got away from me. have some kristen+aelwyn aka one of my secret fav duo's to write :))

send me prompts here!

[ryuzakemo128]

Pairing: Poly141 x female reader

Content Warnings: omegaverse, mature content, sexual situations, explicit language, smut, smut ending, female reader is a little coy and bratty, Female reader has two favourites already. Roach is mentioned. Nikolai is mentioned too. If I missed anything let me know. Your origins. ONI is mentioned again in a tad more detail.

Divider Credit: @cafekitsune

Masterlist

Word Count: 5034

Summary: These men were a rather particularly odd bunch to you. Neither completely understanding nor completely forgiving from your own perspective.

The scorching sun high in thy sky mocked you as the black cloudless image stares back at you. Reflecting the inky marsh sloshing around your feet. You think it's because of the volcano beneath the depths, remaining out of sight beneath the dark layers of the ocean’s cold, gripping clutches.

Sea fowl, vultures, and the like pick at the rotting corpses left around you. Who were you to deny them their requited feast? For days, you found yourself back there, even as the stench of death soaks into you. You didn’t know whether it was a curse or a blessing.

Or perhaps you were simply haunted. Haunted by the choices made in seats of power. Powerful people sending their young to die for them in pointless and futile endeavours. Maybe it was the family curse of bringing death to those you loved. Regardless of reason. Things were never quite meaningful.

Not anymore, at least. It was your fault, you convince yourself. You brought this onto them like a foul tongued bastard with no home to belong to. The strong odour from the mixture of the deceased of human and fish alike stung your eyes and made it hard to breathe.

These men were a rather particularly odd bunch to you. Neither completely understanding nor completely forgiving from your own perspective. You would rather see yourself stay here in the lake rather than in the log cabin with the five of them. You don’t care for their company for the moment.

Hard to trust someone you don’t know well enough. Hard to want to understand someone if they can snap your neck the moment you turn away from them. Paranoid? Hard not to be when you expect a knife in your back from people who call themselves your ‘ally’ or ‘friend’.

You slept outside in the cool night air, the stuffy heat inside too warm to bring yourself to think about stepping indoors. These ‘men of war’ didn’t seem like they were ‘men of war’ to you, either. You think about how your superior would say, ‘Too much heart and too little sense of precaution’ or was it something else? You don’t remember the exact phrase anymore. Though, it would be surprising if you even tried to remember anything that man told you about how a soldier should be. Bitter right up until he was shot in the head. An accident.

An accident caused by one of the younger recruits. He wasn’t reprimanded, and neither was he punished for the accidental killing of a senior officer. You often wonder why that is. Did the higher ups plan for it to happen? You don’t know what else it could have been. Strange.

Strange in how you only remember how he died rather than how he lived. Not that it mattered anymore. And not like you should care, either. You don't know how long you've been standing out there for or asleep. You don't think about him unless you were about to hallucinate.

You opened your eyes and saw you were before you learned to kill, to maim and to take life from another person. In the act of not wanting to become a burden, so you take it upon yourself to eat their sins and absorb them like they were yours already.

You were standing in the lake again, your eyes hazed over as you hallucinated yourself again. Waiting for your parents to come back completely. Totally. Utterly. Unaware they were already dead. Much like the ones of those you served with. Not given much of a choice. Either starve or fight. 

Orphans were the best bet when it came down to Oni’s recruitment method. Better off stealing those with prime genetics than to commit wholesale murder. At least that is what they will tell anyone foolish enough to believe them or take them at face value. If they really wanted to?

Sometimes, if they wanted to fight dirty enough, they would pay in the hundreds of thousands of dollars to get their hands on them. Layering NDA upon NDA documents on the confidential matter to keep it disclosed and forcing them to keep their mouths shut tight about the entire matter. 

Born into this system from day one, your own mother played with your genetics beforehand, ‘saving Oni time’ according to her. She always had that sickening dark sense of humour. What better way to experiment than to use your own child? What better way to ensure a rather quick integration?

Your mother made sure you could speak German, Russian, Spanish, French, and Italian. Long before, she thought it was pertinent for you to learn English. Her reason behind these specific choices were simple. They were the languages of the elite. The ones who had both the most power and influence. 

You were three years old when your mother made sure you started gymnastics. Your mother wanted to instil flexibility, agility, and grace into your bones. 

At five years old when you started learning to use a gun. Your mother’s reason for this choice? To keep you safe. To get a head start above the rest of them. Giving you the technical know how of how to dismantle a gun within five minutes at the most. 

You were six when you started MMA and Kickboxing. Your mother said it was to keep you from remaining idle for too long. “Idle hands make idle minds” she would lecture until it was engrained into your mind. 

Seven when you hunted, killed and butchered your first animal. Your mother had told you it was to teach you survival skills, to show you where your food came from. You had watched with wide eyes as she had done it before you, her movements precise, almost loving as she dissected the creature in front of you.

You were nine years old when she got you into fencing, “a warrior must know all forms of combat. Otherwise, they are just fanciful idealists with no real means to achieve their passions.” She wanted you to break yourself and build yourself back up into something no one could recognise. 

The time you reached the age of ten when you killed your first human target. Not because your mother had demanded it. She didn’t force your hand and nor did she ask you to. Your protective senses were on fire. It was the only way to get him from ruining your mother’s work. 

At sixteen, you learned how to make your own bullets, tracking bullets, incendiary bullets, explosive bullets, armour-piercing bullets, tranquilliser darts, and even some that could disintegrate on impact. It was a necessary evil, your mother had said. It was something you had to learn to survive in this world.

You’re not sure if your mother was ever happy with how you turned out in ONI. You never got the chance to ask her yourself. You could only listen to old recordings of her ‘findings’ about you in the hopes to help you sleep sometimes. 

As you stood in the lake, inside the layers of cold, freezing water. You wondered if you were supposed to be alone for the rest of your life and this is how things were supposed to be. Forever. 

You sliced your mother’s old knife through the palm of your hand three times each. To ascertain how far your heat is going. You don’t think about how it could affect the five men inside the cabin once you were done. 

As you were walking to your hammock? Two of the men were at the back door with the arms crossed like you pissed in their favourite coffee cup or something. Soap and Price weren’t happy with the fact you were off in the lake at this time of day. Let alone by yourself. 

Soap was the first of the two to speak up, his frown is deep-set, his fingers digging into his biceps as he crossed his arms, “Where the fuck have you been for the last three and a half hours?”

“The lake near the backyard, I didn’t think you’d notice I wasn’t here in the cabin.” you answered with a yawn. 

Price raised an eyebrow at your answer, “It’s minus seven degrees out there, you could have gotten sick from hypothermia if you stayed any longer out there. Do you know how unsafe it is out there on your own?” 

“I can handle it. We’re not built the same, how many times do you need to be told that before you decide to listen to it. Besides, I don’t want to be stuck around here while the five of you fuck each other in there.” you frowned. “What did you want me to do? Wait around and listen to you? Boring. I don’t want to wait around for someone who fucks themselves and ignores me.”

“Talk about not knowing to please anyone but yourselves.” you added in, pulling your headphones on and going to sleep. Yet, long before you could go into a deep sleep, long before you could get the chance to sleep again. Nikolai? He decided to pick you up and take you back inside. 

You squirmed around as he tightly wrapped his arms around you. Nikolai whispered into your ear, “Keep still, little mouse, or I might drop you into the cold. Can’t risk that sweet flesh getting cold now, can I?” 

You kicked your sweatpants and then got extra comfortable afterwards. Ghost didn’t think you’d be THAT willing to cuddle up to the Russian man. But he was wrong before and now Price? Price was a little jealous over the fact that Nikolai could get you to stop being a little bratty without much of a hassle. 

As you were asleep beside Nikolai like you hadn’t slept properly in months. Price couldn’t help but ask how you could listen to Nikolai or Roach without much hassle. Especially since Roach is a beta. 

“How come she’s well-behaved for those two and for the rest of us?” Price asked Ghost a few hours later. 

Ghost still remembers how you sniffed all over Roach’s face and ultimately decided, ‘Yeah, I’ll take this one.’ Which Roach didn’t anticipate at the time. It was like you were choosing a new pet at the store and decided he was the one for you.

The next morning is full of noise while you were eating potato noodles you made yourself. While watching a shark documentary on the television. Ghost was allowed to get close to you without any adverse effects. Which surprised Price when he saw it happen in front of his very eyes. 

After a while you were asleep and there were at least three dirty bowls from the amount of porridge you ate afterwards. Price didn’t know how fast you could eat before this, and seeing it now? 

It wasn’t anything he’s ever seen before. You napped for at least thirty minutes and then devoured three bowls of porridge. Price didn’t anticipate this level of appetite from you. It was like Nikolai found the right kind of porridge for you to enjoy this much. “Semolina porridge,” he remarked. “Made from Semolina flour, milk, water, a pinch of salt, butter, and white sugar. One part added while you’re cooking it and a second smaller amount to dust it off. Along with a few strawberries.” 

They could tell Nikolai was proud of himself for making it for you. Price could still feel the burn of jealousy inside his heart. Not that he would ever say it out loud for the rest of the to hear it too. He felt like he needed to find a way to get closer to you and quick. 

It felt like you were unintentionally taunting him with how content you are right this moment. He knows it feels irrational to think this way. But how else could he feel when you act like this for two of them? How else could he feel when you are so foreign to someone like himself? How does anyone react to someone like you anyway? Was there even a right way to begin with? 

He tried shaking the thoughts from his mind and all it did was delay them for a few hours to a few days. Sometimes it felt like you hated him for some reason because you never acknowledge his presence some days. Like you were off in your own world where no one else could follow you into. 

But you were too honest to hide things from them either. You deliberately told them the truth to their faces and said you didn’t want to go into specifics. As you said, it would ‘turn their stomachs and lose their appetites faster than they can scream the word ‘Monster’. 

You never elaborated further than that. You said it wasn’t necessary. “Part of being experimented. You must not tell lies.” Price remembered you saying over the radio.

“Pretty sure ONI operatives weren’t always this brutally honest right?” Soap asked you.

“Depending on the operative. Otherwise, they’ll go a step further and become brutally honest. Which is far worse than the general kind.” you answered. “Those operatives? They do not give a fuck about what kind of rank you hold or how many times you remind them of it too. They can, and they will beat you down with raw honesty.”

You didn’t think your honesty was that brutal, you thought you were pretty tame in comparison. Though, from their own perspective of you? You were just as bad they were if not worse. Because who else knows how to cut down someone with just words alone other than ONI? 

“A few of them are nice enough to soften up the truth before giving it you. But find those operatives is more or less like finding a needle in two giant haystacks. Next to impossible and often aren’t shooting a gun or a field medic either. They’re more or less likely to be a chef for a base’s canteen or someone’s personal assistant somewhere higher up. Those operatives? They are high octane positivity to the core.”

“Exhausting to deal with and depletes your social battery real fast.” you added in. For clarification for people like Ghost who had a limited social battery sometimes. “So if you have the luck of running into one of them sometime. Don’t ask about anything related to their job. Unless you want to stay there for six hours. Don’t ask them.” 

You still didn’t know what to think of these men. But for one thing you knew for certain is that they were a strange bunch. Stranger than any operative you ever encountered in the past. You still don’t have a concrete opinion of them. The only you can form in the back your mind is that they’re different from most in some ways.

In some others they’re pretty much the same. You don’t know where this is going or how it would end up for you or them. You could only guess and assume. Neither of which are proven to be something rely on, and you don’t intend to do either one. 

When price saw you in the lake again? This time he decided to do something he didn’t think he had in him. He didn’t think he’d find himself right beside her in the lake’s water. The water chilled his skin faster than he could gasp out loud. Is this the kind of thing they taught you to tolerate regularly?

“How are you not suffering from frostbite?” he exclaimed in shock.

You placed his hand on your cheek to feel your temperature. “Does this answer your question?” Before he could say anything else you shoved his hand up the front of your shirt too. “How about now?” 

Price’s eyes went wide, the heat emanating from you was far more than a normal human could ever possess let alone anyone like them. Sure they got warm, but they never had gotten this warm before. “Fuck, you’re hotter than a fucking sauna in here, Venom!” Price exclaimed, his hand retreating quickly.

You snickered like his reaction amused you a lot which only made Price rather bashful over the fact that he realised his hands were just between your tits moments ago. The closest he’s been to getting you undressed in a sensual intimate manner. 

Combined with the fact you weren’t too bothered with where his hand had just been made Price feel rather flustered. How could you be so calm and collected about this? He thought you would have been a virgin or even shy about this kind of thing. Yet again he is proven wrong. 

“What’s matter price can’t handle the heat?” you playfully taunted him as you walked to your hammock at the back of the cabin. Before you could go back to sleep in your hammock? Price had decided to stop you from walking away from him by taking your wrist in his hand. Pulling you right back to him, his hand on your waist and another hand on your throat. 

The sudden jerk forward threw you off balance just a tad, just a little, causing your eyes to widen from the action alone. You didn’t think he’d be this forward, and you thought you could get away with pushing a few buttons at least. His thumb traced down the large vein in your throat, his hot breath against your ear, “I can handle you perfectly little mouse. But, little mouse? You’re playing a dangerous game with me right now.” There is a warning hinting inside his tone. 

“Is that so? Here I thought you were just being handsy or perhaps even jealous?” you mused with a slight hum and the act of biting your bottom lip was enough to send Price over the edge. 

You felt like you were 22 all over again, and you were about to sneak out to see someone off base. That relationship didn’t last long. The guy was shipped out not too long after, and he died in a mission somewhere in the UK. You still think about the guy sometimes. But not long enough for you to remember his name again. 

Price’s grip tightened around your throat just a fraction, a smidgen. Just enough for you to be aware of how strong he is without really putting more effort into it. Without cutting off your oxygen supply to your lungs. His thumb continued to caress the side of your neck. Feeling the pulse quickening under his touch. 

The heat from your body continued to be palpable. His own arousal grew in response to it. His other hand that had been at your waist is now drifting to your cheek, causing your eyes to flutter just a bit. He leaned in just enough for his breath to brush against your skin.

He whispered, “Little mouse, you’re playing a rather dangerous game with me.” 

“How can you be so certain of that?” you coyly questioned battling your eyelashes, your voice a seductive purr. You weren’t going to just give yourself over without playing around a little first. What’s the point of sex if your not one hundred and ten percent willing? 

Price smirked as you were trying to play hard to get, just like how he was hard to get rid of. It’s like an immovable object colliding with a stubborn force of nature. Or as the saying goes ‘What happens if an unstoppable force collides with an immovable object?’. 

“You think you’re so clever, don’t you? With your coy smiles, your flared clothes, your little games, venom? Hm? You act like your invincible, and you don’t care about anything. Ever.” Price spoke in a hushed tone, his warm breath against your skin.

You were about to squeak out something much like a little mouse they loved to call you so much now. Before you got the chance to do just that? Price decided to hush you up by pressing his lips against yours. It made your head spin like crazy. Like he knew exactly what to do to get your knees to buckle. 

The kiss was just rough enough to keep your attention, gentle enough to keep you from pulling away from him. The silent conversation of emotional needs colliding together like two asteroids or two star colliding together. You didn’t want to admit it. You really didn’t want to. 

Your heart is beating like a wild horse in a rodeo. Kickstarted like a generator. And your body? Your body felt like it was on fire. 

His scent is overwhelming, but not unwelcome to your senses. You can feel his hand tighten against your throat further, an act of possession and unfiltered desire which you are more familiar with. 

His thumb gently caresses your cheek as you kissed him. Sending sparks throughout your body, your hands slowly drifted to his chest. Unsure if you pull him closer or push him away. It felt odd to be kissed like this. 

Sure you’ve gotten laid in the past. But it wasn’t like this before. It was always a frenzy of tearing each other’s clothes off and leaving before the other woke up. Before their hangover could affect your own. 

You weren’t used to the slow affair it could have been. You don’t know if you even deserved something like that at all. Did a creature like deserve such a thing? Did you? Be honest with yourself. Did you really think you deserve to be seen as ‘normal’?

You pulled away. You couldn’t think of anything. It was like he scrubbed it clean with his tongue and two hands. Price smirked, “You’re not used to that, are you? I can tell from your face, it's an open book right now. I think you are much, much cuter when you’re like this.” 

“Not mention, you don’t say much afterward,” he added. “If I hazard a guess you are far more used to the one-night stand kind of thing, and you are far more used to the  rough kind of love, no?” His eyes searched yours, looking for a reaction.

Your face flushed, and your sudden bashful behaviour now made it glaringly obvious of your inexperience to this kind of thing. You now realise he’s reading you like book you didn’t know all the pages to or the lyrics to a song you can’t listen to without crying.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” you stated, your hand is still shaking, stop it from shaking before he notices. You feel more like a young teen who’s nervous around a first crush or something equally cheesy. The kind of feeling which didn’t lead to a one-night stand, a hangover, and a guy stealing your underwear like a pervert of some kind. 

Price took a step closer to you, his hand still on your cheek, his thumb stroking it gently. “I can feel it, your heart racing like it’s running a marathon. I know you’re not used to this.” His voice was low, almost a murmur. It was as if he didn’t want to break the spell of the moment.

You swallowed hard, trying to find your voice, trying to keep the heat from burning up your entire body. “Is that so? Maybe I like playing hard to get, hmm?” 

You wandered off to the bath house to cool down properly there. You didn’t run away. You know you didn’t. But you kind of felt like you had, right? Like you had decided that running away was the better option for you. 

You didn’t bother hiding your tracks. You weren’t a coward. You didn’t have to hide from anyone. You didn’t have to. You weren’t weak. You’ve never been weak. Not even when you were a child. Not even when you were being experimented on. 

You didn’t have a thing to fear. You were the thing everyone else and everything else is scared of. You were always careful in your choices, right?

You didn’t expect him to follow you into the bathhouse. His eyes never leaving your form hidden beneath your clothes, no matter how much you hid behind graphic men’s shirts, sweaters and sweatpants, or the crop tops with kimono sleeves or bells sleeves with flared pants and jeans.

He knew that you weren’t going anywhere. Not when he had you right where he wanted you. He had to admit, seeing you like this? It was far more satisfying than he could ever have imagined. 

The bathhouse is steamy, fogged, you were hard to see through it all. But he knew you were in there, that was all that mattered right? To know you were in there. 

The water from the shower had a faint hint of mint, and you knew that it was going to be a long night. You turned the water to cold, as cold as it could go and stepped underneath it. It only dimmed the heat inside you by a small margin. 

He watched as the water ran down your body, your skin goosebumps from the cold. He didn’t say anything, just took off his clothes and stepped into the shower with you. His body washed with the minty scent of the water, and the heat from his skin clashed with the coldness from yours.

Price wrapped his arms around you from behind, his erection pressing into your back. You could feel the heat radiating from him, it was like standing in front of a bonfire. His lips grazed your neck, and his teeth nipped at the sensitive skin there, making you gasp. “You are mine, Venom,” he whispered.

You could help but lean into him, even as his fingers traced your jawline and his gaze remained on your low rise micro V string underwear which only covered the bare minimum at most. Leaving next to nothing else to the imagination. If Price knew you were wearing this kind of underwear the entire time? 

He would surely have had something to say to it. You imagine how one conversation would have gone, with you stating how it's not their problem and that it wasn’t his business to know what kind of underwear you wore. Then again they should be used to the fact that you don’t wear a bra in your off hours sometimes. 

Price’s hand drifted down to your waist again. Tracing the edges of your underwear like he wanted all of you. In ways, you never thought about. Or even experienced for yourself. Your breath hitched and you turned to face him. The slick wet tiles against your back as he pulled at your underwear. You would have taken it off, but it was already coming off with his hands and the slight growl?

If that was to indicate anything, it was his want, his need to claim you as not only his but his pack’s. The wild and primal urge crawled up your throat. As your core tightened, shivers travelled down your spine. You didn’t know if it was the way he looked at you or the way he touched you. Maybe it was both of those things all at once?

“I… I…. I can’t.” you whispered in heavy, heaving gasps. This is foreign territory for you. Usually it was going down the guy rather than the other way around. You didn’t know if you would like it either. 

He paused for a moment. Only a moment did he pause in his pursuit of your nectar seeping from in between your thighs. His hands slid further down. He muttered, “Yes. Yes you can.” as he slid your underwear off you, and “MINE” he growled. 

He didn’t bother to keep his voice down when he uttered those words from his lips. Pressing them against your inner thigh, slowly moving further up and up.

Reaching the juncture between your plump thighs, his trailed against your weeping cunt. You gasped as you felt his warm tongue against your clit. In response your body shivered and your back arched. Eyelids fluttering as he continued to taste every part of your folds. 

His hands found themselves planted on your ass cheeks as he continued to eat your pussy out like he was starving, and you were the last meal for the rest of his life. 

You didn’t know what to do, you felt so exposed, so vulnerable. Your hands found themselves in his hair, gripping it tightly as waves of pleasure crashed over you. It had been a long time since someone had touched you like this, with care and hunger.

Price's grip grew stronger, his tongue dancing around your folds, tasting you. His breath was warm against your skin, sending shivers down your spine as he moaned, the vibrations resonating through your body and making your knees wobble.

As the sensation building up inside your depths, your body tightening and quivering under his touch. You felt like you were edging closer and closer to the edge of an orgasm. You were going to fall long before you felt like you were ever ready to. 

Your breath grew to be ragged, heavy, you urged him to go faster, and he was more than willing to comply. A blur of pleasure and confusion. 

Before you could orgasm he stopped and stood up, you whimpered when he pulled his tongue from your depths. 

“Why did you stop?” you asked. Your voice horse from the amount of moaning you made from your preciously beautiful lips.

Price smirked at you, a small part of his dominance over you in this intimate act within his eyes as he lifted your chin in his hand,  “Because, my sweet little darling mouse, I am far from being done with you.” 

He picked you up and carried to his room rather than your own. What better way to tame a wild creature such as yourself than to have it done in your own strong scented domain? What better way to ensure his seed is deep inside you and that you have at least one of his children? 

This will surely help you remember whose pack you are part of now. To help remind you who you belonged to now and who was in your past.

[loopstagirl]

Walk in the Park

For @febuwhump day 3: Pinned Down

Jeff paused and took a moment to look around. He smiled. It was a rare weekend where a) he wasn’t called into work, b) none of the boys had activities, c) none of the children were unwell, and d) the sun was shining. As soon as they’d seen the forecast that morning, both he and Lucy had known what they’d do today. 

A picnic in the park, with all five of their boys. 

It had been months since circumstances had let them do something like this. Between an unseasonably wet spring and various clubs, not to mention emergency meetings as Jeff’s fledgling business sprouted wings, there was always something on. 

Now, though... Now, everything was perfect. They’d eaten with minimal squabbles over who got the last sausage roll and which flavour drink they wanted. Alan had started to get tired and Scott had declared he was taking his baby brother for a walk. Ten minutes later, a smug 13-year-old had returned with Alan asleep in the stroller. The toddler wouldn’t sleep for much longer, but it had stopped any meltdowns. 

Virgil had seen some friends from school and run off to the play equipment with them. Thankfully, they’d picked a spot where both parents could see him without having to move. John was sprawled on the blanket, legs swinging in the air as he read, and Scott and Gordon were playing a version of catch the 5-year-old could keep up with. 

Jeff caught Lucy’s eye. She was sitting next to John, leaning back on her palms, keeping an eye on Virgil but with a satisfied smile on her face. It only widened when she looked over at her husband. This was what their family was all about. 

He grabbed a drink from the cooler, intending to sit next to her. All their children were entertaining themselves, which was a wonderful and rare experience. Before he could do so, however, a shout came from the playground. Jeff shielded his eyes with a hand as he looked that way, aware that Lucy had also straightened up. 

He wasn’t sure what was happening to begin with. Perhaps a child had misjudged the monkey bars? There were plenty of parents milling around there. Then there was another shout – and it was a voice he recognised. 

Lucy was already on her feet. 

“Virgil.” 

Jeff took a few steps closer, trying to see what was going on. Then he cursed under his breath, hoping that John didn’t hear him. 

Some older boys, maybe Scott’s age, were trying to take over the playground. They were ignoring the little kids, but focused on the other boys there without their parents: Virgil and his friends. As Jeff watched, one of the older kids shoved a younger one, causing him to stumble into the other teenagers. They didn’t let him regain his balance though, pushing him again. 

Lucy recognised the red tee before Jeff did. She took off, not quite a run, but a fast, angry walk that would get her there quicker than if Jeff sprinted. He took a step, then glanced at his remaining children. Scott was responsible, but he couldn’t leave him with John, Gordon and Alan. Still, he stayed on his feet, a few steps towards the playground, watching. 

“Dad? Where’s Mom-,” Scott trailed off, standing next to him. He too squinted in the direction of the playground, just as Virgil hit the ground. “Virgil!” 

Jeff only had time to grab Scott’s arm as the boy made to hurtle off.  

“Your mom has got this, Scott.” 

“That’s Tommy Higgins and his friends,” Scott snarled. “I warned them if they ever went near my brothers again...” His gaze flickered to John before back to the playground, and Jeff knew there was an untold story there for sure. 

Scott tried to pull out of his dad’s hold and Jeff found himself tightening his grip to hold the boy back.  

“I need you here, Flyboy.” 

“No! I told him! If he dares-,” 

“Your mom is almost there, Scotty. Virgil is okay.” 

Indeed, the boy was getting back up. Lucy was almost at the gate now and Jeff knew the older teens were going to be fools if they tried anything now. 

“Where’s Mama?” Gordon asked, appearing out of nowhere. 

“She’s gone to help your brother.” 

“I can help too!” Gordon looked as if he was all set to go dashing after Lucy. 

“John? A hand, please?” 

John looked up from his book and caught Gordon round the middle, pulling the suddenly-giggling child down to the blanket with him.  

“Scott, calm down.” 

“I’m not calming down! I told him he’d get what was coming to him if he ever went near them again.” 

“Scott!”  

Jeff couldn’t hold him. He wasn’t sure when Scott had suddenly sprouted but his little boy wasn’t so little anymore. In the type of move he hadn’t used since his Air Force days, he hooked his arms under Scott’s shoulders, pulling the boy back into him. Scott struggled, but even his new-found height was no match for this grip. 

“Calm down,” Jeff said in his ear. “I know you’re upset; I know you’re mad. But your mom is handling it. It won’t help Virgil, or any of your brothers, if they see you answer violence with violence.” 

Indeed, Jeff wasn’t entirely sure where this had come from. Scott had always been protective, but it appeared that all the emotions that came with being a young teenager meant he was trying to find a different outlet for those emotions. Jeff loved Scott’s protective nature, but he couldn’t let this continue. 

Scott snarled. One day, that was going to be an impressive sound. But his voice hadn’t yet broken and it didn’t have the depth to it to be truly chilling. Jeff winced as a foot collided with his shin. While he didn’t necessarily remember being 13, he did remember being a teenager and the feeling that the world was out to get him.  

He walked back a few steps, dragging Scott with him so that he was further away from his brothers. Carefully, he shifted their centre of gravity until he could drop to his knees, pulling Scott down with him. Then it was just a case of extending his legs, unhooking his arms and wrapping his son in a bear hug, keeping Scott’s arms trapped within his own. 

“You need to calm down,” Jeff said in his ear. Scott twisted in the hold but his father’s grip was too strong. 

“I have to help Virgil.” 

“This is not the way, and you know it. You’ll only get yourself into trouble and either you or your brother could be hurt if you react like this. Is this what you want?” 

Scott, mercifully, stopped struggling. He was still tense though and Jeff didn’t dare relax his grip. 

“What about Gordon? Do you think this is any example to set your younger brother?” 

He didn’t need to worry about John. He hadn’t copied Scott the way the others did for a while now and had his own way of handling things. Jeff knew his second born had a bad habit of trying to be invisible when the attention was on him, but he had an acid tongue if anyone tried to pick on his brothers – whether that was another child or a grownup. Jeff had been forced to apologise while trying not to laugh more than once. 

“He’ll know that I’ll always defend him.” 

“By getting into trouble yourself? That’s making the situation worse, and you know it.” 

Jeff dared risk a glance at the playground. Lucy was heading back their way, their 8-year-old clutching her hand. Jeff couldn’t read Virgil’s expression from this distance, but he was walking fine, so at least he wasn’t physically hurt. 

“Let me go!” 

“Not a chance, kiddo.” 

Jeff knew that Scott was fighting the hold, but he could barely feel his boy’s struggles as he held him down. It was only when Lucy came closer and they could see for themselves that although there were tear tracks down Virgil’s face, he’d already stopped crying and was smiling at something his mother had just said. 

Jeff sighed in relief. Then Scott went limp. The father suddenly wondered how much Scott had been feeding off his own tension and grimaced. He could keep calm in a business meeting but apparently not so much when it came to someone hurting his children. 

“Everything okay?” He called. He relaxed his grip but didn’t dare let Scott go. Not just yet.  

“All handled,” Lucy said. She had a hand on Virgil’s shoulder but ruffled his hair and nudged him towards his brothers. Virgil didn’t hesitate, dropping down beside John and instantly finding himself with Gordon climbing on him.  

“Get off,” he muttered, but he didn’t push Gordon away like he usually did and there was no conviction in his voice.  

“I was gonna save you,” Gordon told him, his tone uncharacteristically serious. 

“I didn’t need saving. Especially not from you.” Virgil wasn’t meeting Gordon’s eye. 

“There’s nothing wrong with a helping hand,” Lucy told him, also sitting down. “Even if it comes in squid-form.” She seized Gordon round the middle and pulled him onto her lap, tickling him. Gordon laughed. 

“Johnny, help!” 

John – for once – joined in without hesitation. After a second, Virgil also piled in and Lucy disappeared under three laughing boys. 

“You okay?” Jeff murmured in Scott’s ear. He softened his grip until he was hugging his boy. Scott didn’t let that happen very often these days and Jeff missed it. 

He heard Scott swallow before the boy nodded. “Yeah.” 

Gently, Jeff let go until Scott could sit up. His son looked at him, and it was a mixture of the man he’d one day be and the little boy he was trying so hard not to be. 

“They know you’ll protect them,” Jeff said quietly. “But there’s a right and a wrong way of doing it. You understand that, right?” 

Scott couldn’t meet his eyes but he nodded again. Jeff clapped him on the shoulder. 

“Don’t get me wrong, Scotty, I’m proud of you for wanting to look out for them. But no getting into fights, or you’ll be the one in trouble.” 

“Copy that,” Scott said. Jeff properly relaxed at hearing the words. 

“Now, go on, I think your mom needs you right now,” he said. He nudged Scott towards the pile that was his wife and three kids. Scott didn’t need telling twice and charged over, scooping a surprised and delighted Gordon into the air just as Alan woke up. 

Jeff fetched his youngest, keeping the blanket wrapped around him as he balanced the 18-month-old in his arms. Alan’s eyes were wide as he watched the laughing pile of siblings. 

“Maniacs,” Jeff told him. “The lot of them.” 

Alan’s answer giggle told him the smallest Tracy both agreed and approved. 

[ablobwhowrites]

I saw your post about the Poppy playtime: New Home Sweet Home Au and I really like the concept!

Since the release of Ch4 I wanted to request… how would the 17 toys react to seeing the doctor, Harvey Sawyer now in a robot (like in the fan arts) just showing up at the door when Reader goes to open the door.

I can imagine the chaos that would happen.

Especially when the doctor simply requests to live at the house with them.

(thanks for liking the au. Hopefully I can keep cooking with this one. Might make more I don't know)

The doctor forced to live in the garage or something like that.

When y/n opened the door they just kinda froze up looking up at the doctor a doey who was coming out of the living room just quietly ran back in the living where most of the smiling critters where and he just whisper yells that the actual doctor is here and everyone freaks out quietly. Cause like they would be all scared out of their minds because what do you mean the doctor of out side and at the literal door.

Doey immediately plans to protect everyone. He did it at the safe haven, he can do it again. The smiling critters well panic but dog day is the same as doey wanting to try and protect the house and the other toys inside. As most of the toys are afraid of the doctor cause like how the fuck is that guy alive and if he's out than what about the prototype? But it's almost impossible for the prototype to escape cause limitations.

And doey quietly trying to reach out to grab y/n and close the door but it's to risky as they don't want to make their presence known. As they are scared that the doctor will kill them after everything especially trying to kill him as I like he's was the main reason that most of them exist especially that he contributed to making the toys alive and was the head scientist and worked with the prototype. But y/n reluctantly let's him in but just because it's the morning and they don't want the neighbors to see him. Y/n makes a deal that the doctor can live here but the toys can decide where he sleeps and thats ends up to be the garage or attic or any of the rooms that is away from the other toys and y/n and the doctor if fine with that but y/n wants to give him a second chance but doey doesn't. He just wants the doctor away from everyone else and no where near them or y/n.

Harley kinda just had a bed, blanket and a bookshelf as the room he stays in is mainly a spare room and less used guest room. But y/n tries to be nice and put up some posters and some plushies and books in his room but Harvey kinda keeps it bare and does read the books while in his room. Even though the toys don't trust y/n being around the doctor and at least mommy long legs or one of the toys go up with y/n to make sure Harley doesn't try anything funny but mostly Harley doesn't come out of the room. Only at night to take some things to tinker with them (mostly y/n's stuff) but returns it after tinkering with it (he is a control freak. As he realizes he has no power now and isn't able to see everything around him) he does try to be "nice" as he does want a place to live but he's weak and feels vulnerable, having to take refuge in y/n's house and he wonders if he could take you back with him to the factory or to find a something more have you in his grasp (he very much Is delighted by you and your abilities back at the factory and wonders if he could perhaps make you into something greater but doey and the rest of the toys ain't letting that happen if he even tries it) plus picky piggy isn't allowed in the kitchen at night anymore cause she literally had eaten almost all the groceries so now theres a lock on it that stays on until morning.

(that's it for my yap session, I glad you guys like my little silly au. But if you want more please don't feel shy to request any ideas for this or any other fics or stories. Please stay safe and drink water!)

[monster-disaster]

I had a brain rot idea I wanted to share with you!

Imagine a hyper feminine human woman who finds herself in a relationship with a hyper masculine monster man. Due to their opposite interests and tastes, their shared home is quite the spectacle. For example…

1. A pink leather couch

2. Black velvet curtains

3. Wall paper with barbed wire hearts as the pattern

4. Bedazzled skull flower vases

5. Etc.

Needless to say, decor shopping is always a fun activity for the couple. Also couple outfits can always be fun…

1. Pastel gym clothes gifted to the monster from the woman

2. Black latex dress with studs gifted to the woman from the monster

Thoughts? I just feel like this would be such a cute coupling to see

How do these two even meet? Maybe at the gym? The monster is either with his bros, lifting heavy weights, or alone, grunting through his intense workout. Reader, on the other hand, is there for a yoga or pilates session, focused on balance and stretching. Or perhaps they meet at a music festival? Or, maybe it’s at an animal shelter. Reader is there to adopt a cute, fluffy cat she saw online while the monster is volunteering. He is more of a dog person, but hey, if Reader wants a cat, so be it. Before she leaves, he hands her his number, telling her to text him if she has any questions.

Soon enough, her occasional cat updates turn into casual chats. Reader sends him pictures of her new feline friend, sharing their quirky behaviors or adorable outfits. He is always short with his responses, but he never discourages her from messaging him. Over time, those updates about the cat shift into little glimpses of Reader's daily life: her morning coffee, the chaos of work, and her favorite places to eat.

And then, one day, out of nowhere, he asks her out. It catches Reader off guard. He isn’t sure why, either. She is so different, he’s seen the pictures. The cat already has more clothes than he does, and the accessories? Don’t get him started. When Reader agrees to the date, he is surprised.

And it just clicks, you know? Despite being complete opposites, they find themselves drawn to each other. They have different tastes, different opinions on almost everything. He prefers heavy metal, while she swears by indie pop; he enjoys spicy food, she sticks to mild. But somehow, it all just works. They are both open to seeing things from each other’s perspective, finding that debating taste is futile when there are bigger things that matter. Who cares if their comfort movies are not the same compared to wanting or not wanting kids? Over time, these little quirks become less about compromise and more about appreciating the contrast. So much so that, before long, they move in together.

Things get interesting pretty quickly after they move in together. Their new home becomes a delightful, chaotic mess of contrasts.

At first, Reader thinks she nailed it; the bookshelves are perfectly arranged with her favorite novels, colorful knickknacks, and little plants adding life to the space, but soon enough, her monster's things start creeping in: heavy metal figurines, dark leather-bound books, and a random skull-shaped bookend. Then, the curtains. Reader proudly hangs the most beautiful white, flowery ones, letting sunlight flood the room, but the very next day, she comes home to find his blackout curtains layered behind them. The pink couch she adores, piled high with fluffy pillows in soft pastels? Yeah, he balances it with his own things in black and dark green. And her adorable fruit-shaped plates? They somehow find themselves stacked beside his sleek, matte black dishes in the kitchen. And it doesn’t stop there. His ultramodern, shiny black coffee maker claims a prime spot on the counter next to her vintage floral tea set. The wardrobe? It’s almost comical. One side overflows with Reader's colorful clothes, blouses, skirts, and soft cardigans, while the other is a stark contrast of black leather jackets and plain tees.

It’s a mess. A wonderful, ridiculous mess. But somehow, it feels like home. Their home.

But of course, as time goes on, their styles begin to blend in the most unexpected ways. Reader finds herself experimenting a bit, picking out a pink leather dress one day. It’s bold, flashy, and a little out of her usual comfort zone, but when she steps out wearing it, her monster takes one look and practically falls to his knees. The stunned, hungry expression on his face makes the purchase more than worth it. And slowly but surely, the monster starts to change too; just a hint of dark gray here, maybe some muted green there. The progress is slow but steady. And Reader loves watching his monster lifting weight in the almost light blue sweatshirt she bought for him. She doesn’t even try to hide her grin, and he pretends not to notice, but the faint smirk on his lips gives him away.

And, of course, the fluffy cat that brought them together often struts around the house in her pink tutu and tiny leather jacket.