#endless tavern

[valiantstarlights]

[gabessquishytum]

The Tavern of the White Horse was the Pink Pony Club of its day. H-O-B-T-O-G-O, you can take me Hob To Go.

[lenreli]

Dreamling, before-and-after edition!

For @rooftopwreck! 💕

[astarab1aze]

since i brought up dwarves, dwarf women have beards.

[basilstars0-o]

my mom really raised me on hard rock/metal and now I'm showing her shit that reminds her of underground 80s bands 😭

[nezuscribe]

gojo is used to strange people with strange requests. he gets paid for doing people’s dirty work, things they’d never do themselves, so this is pretty standard in his line of work.

he had to survive somehow, and if becoming the bidder of bad tidings was what made him coin, then he wasn’t one to complain.

another thing that gojo had gotten especially good at is knowing when somebody is looking for him. it’s usually scurried glances and sweaty palms that give them away. which is why now, as he’s resting an ale in hand at the back of the tavern, does he feel this sense go off.

he sits alone, not looking up from his drink as he feels a set of eyes on him. tonight was his night of rest, his horse was sleeping outside, and he had booked a room just for himself. he didn’t care what they gave him. he was checked out for the night.

the room is crowded, with loud and boisterous laughter filling any gaps of silence. people are taking and shouting, but it doesn’t mask the set of footsteps getting near to where he was trying to hide away from everybody else.

gojo keeps his head down, his nose wrinkling in annoyance when timid hands set a pouch in front of him. filled to the brim with gold, most likely.

“i need your help,” a voice, frightful and cracking, says.

gojo rolls his eyes. this isn’t the first time a girl has run away from his rich family and begs him for a chance away. but he’s done that too many times, gone through too much. he’d rather just kill the parents. he takes a sip of his drink, resting his back on the wall.

he knows how this usually goes. a girl wants to run away, she finds him, they end up running away, only for the girl to feel guilty and beg him to take her back home. either that or she has no plan in mind and forces him on an endless chase to somewhere she doesn’t even know.

judging by the tone of your voice, he’s betting you’re a mix of both right now.

“i’m not offering any help right now,” he says, twisting a ring back and forth on his fingers, one he had stollen a while ago.

“i have more gold,” you beg, “i need your help… please. i heard you’re the only person who’s made it through the north alive.”

gojo glances up at you briefly, taking in your bruised and cut face, most likely from running away, at your eyes filled with tears, and at the way your lips trembled.

his eyes flit away momentarily, not expecting you to take him by surprise. you look more roughed up than the other girls he’s seen so far, a certain heaviness in your stare.

“no.” he says bluntly and your gaze seems to waver just slightly. you gnaw on your lips, wondering how you could change your speech to change his mind.

“my father wants me to marry this man. he’s,” you shudder a little bit at the thought, “inhuman. if i don’t get away soon his men will find me. i,” your breathing shudders, “i can’t let them find me.”

gojo sighs deeply though his nose. so much for a relaxful evening.

his eyes search yours again, and he feels a different urgency that he’s never felt before. something that tells him that this is different, that if he doesn’t help you it’s going to be more than a simple punishment of your father taking away your allowance.

“where’s the rest of your gold?” he looks to your empty hands and then back up to your face.

you sputter, looking at him in shock.

“i-in my satchel,” you swallow thickly, “i left it near your horse.”

his mouth almost quirked upwards.

“where do you want to go?” he asks, watching as your posture straightens up a bit.

“to the shore,” you say, “i’ll get the soonest ship out.”

gojo stares at you and you stare at him. he surveys the pouch of gold, knowing it’s more than he’s ever made in months, something he desperately needs.

he rubs a hand across his face, squeezing his eyes shut as he thinks.

“when do you need to leave?” he asks although gojo already mows the wretched answer.

you look bashful as you duck your head down.

“n-now, if possible.”

gojo stares at your pouch a little bit longer. he downs the rest of his drink as he stands up, eyes raking over your features. if it weren’t for time and place he might’ve asked you to accompany him back to his room.

you stare back at him silently and he quirks his silver brow.

“what?” he grumbles, “get your things. we’re leaving.” a small smile breaks its way into your face as you collect your measly bag and your satchel of gold.

gojo knows he shouldn’t have said yes the moment he saw you grin, knowing that you weren’t an ordinary girl and this wasn’t an ordinary request. but he didn’t find it in himself to care.

at least for now, he didn’t.

[frantic-fiction]

Tease 18+

(Pic: cheekylittlepupp)

Astarion x f!reader, Astarion x Tav

Summary: The party is taking the night off. You're convinced to wear a dress, and Astarion just can't control himself.

Warnings: Smut, MDNI, Semi-public sex, caught in the act?

Word Count: 3.2k

Mastarlist

Standing in front of the mirror, you pull at the dark green fabric, tugging it down this way and that. You try again to tie the corset but give up quickly. You swing your hips, and the flowy skirt swishes, tickling the skin above your knees. Looking yourself up and down, you zone in on your hips, squirming at the fabric extenuating your curves. So much skin on display makes you want to steal someone's spare cloak to hide in. You weren't one to be self-conscious, but you're used to donning armor and leather, not this scrap of fabric Karlach had convinced you to buy. 

You should just change. Grab some leggings and one of Astarion's shirts, and call it a night. You didn't need a dress to catch his eye; you know how Astarion feels about you; wearing a dress won't change that. Backing away from the mirror, you're just about to rip the dress off when Karlach bursts into the room, Shadowheart following behind her at a much tamer pace. 

"Soldier!" Karlach squeals, stopping suddenly in the middle of the room. She slaps her hands on either side of her face. "You. Are. Gorgeous!" Your face burns as Karlach pounces on you, spinning you around to give her the best view from every angle. Heat creeps up your chest and you giggle awkwardly.

"She's right, you look stunning," Shadowheart smirked and added, "Ten gold Astarion won't be able to keep it in his pants."

"20, he won't make it to a room," Karlach shouts.

"Gods! You both are ridiculous." You squeal, swatting Karlach's hands away and stepping back from her excitement. You huff and fix your skirt. Crossing your hands over your chests, you glare at the girls before timidly looking off to the side. "So, I don't look silly?" The hesitation is evident.

"All joking aside, I assure you, soldier, you are beautiful. And I know for a fact Fangs won't be able to keep his eyes off of you."

You beam under Karlach's compliment, doing a few excited calf raises because you have no idea how else to handle her words. Shadowheart moves towards you and fixes a fallen strand of hair. She gives you a soft smile and moves to finish lacing your corset, patting your arm when she’s done.

"Now we should go. The others are waiting downstairs," Shadowheart motions everyone to the door, letting you take a moment to slip your shoes on. 

After months of endless travels and brutal battles, the party decided to take the evening to drink, relax, and enjoy each other's company. A night to forget the tadpoles and the Absolute. All except Lae'zel, who scoffed at the idea, were joining in on the fun.

Descending the stairs, you slammed with the melody of lively tunes played by a band of minstrels, competing with the animated conversations of patrons. The music, infused with the spirit of celebration, is so loud that it vibrates through the wooden beams of the tavern. The dance floor is alive with energetic movements as couples twirl and spin to the rhythm and the joyous laughter of those lost in the moment.

The bar is surrounded by a sea of drunk patrons clamoring for attention. Tankards slammed onto the worn surface as the bartender poured frothy ale and mead expertly. The dim light of flickering candles and oil lamps casts a warm glow on the diverse crowd. The unmistakable odors of stale ale, greasy food, and the tang of sweat intermingle in the air, creating a distinctive nostalgic and pungent aroma. You're lost in the crowd's movement, overwhelmed with the sounds. You grab onto Shadowheart's elbow like a lifeline.

"Karlach!" Wyll calls and you all snap your head to the side. The party had claimed a booth, and Gale and Wyll were standing up, waving their arms over their heads. They looked like they started early on the drinking; both men's faces were flush, and they each held an easy, dopey grin.

"Wyll!" Karlach linked her arms with yours and Shadowheart's and approached the table. You let her pull you, too busy searching for him. Astarion is slow to stand, but you know the moment he sets his eyes on you. You watch the subtle change in his body language. His hand tightened around the goblet; the exaggerated inhale of air as if someone had kicked him, watching the hunger grow in his eyes.

Now, you feel the confidence bloom in your chest. The dress no longer makes you squirm in discomfort; no, it gives you power and makes you feel desired and sexy. The flame ignites low in your abdomen. Suddenly, you were playing with fire and excited to get burned. A smug smile stretches your lips the closer you get. Pulling away from Karlach, you move and hook your arms around Astarion's neck. You pull him down and place a kiss on his cheek.

"Hi, handsome," you smile up at him, feeling his hand caress the small of your back. Cold fingers playing at the edge of the corset.

"Hello darling, you look breathtaking." He pushes you back gently, giving him space to take in your attire. "Turn for me, my love. Let me look upon the goddess before me."

You roll your eyes at his cheesiness but oblige his request, spinning slowly to allow Astarion to take in every angle. When you come full circle, Astarion captures your lips, and you fall against his chest. His lips meld against yours in a sensual kiss that was entirely inappropriate for the amount of people around, but neither of you seemed to care. Humming against his mouth, you cup his jaw and pull his face away. Astarion chases your lips and lets out a low groan when you deny him what he wants.  

You give Astarion a mischievous grin, patting his chest when you ask. "Do you mind getting me a drink?" 

He gives you a pointed look, visibly dissatisfied with his kiss. With one look and your hand running up his chest and over his shoulder, Astarion caves with a huff. "Yes, of course. Would you like your usual?"

"Yes, please." You say pecking his lips a final time before joining your friends in the booth. 

Wyll was regaling the table with a tale of his early days as the Blade of Frontiers when Astarion slides in beside you. He sets your drink down, and you whisper your thanks before taking a sip and focusing back on Wyll. Gale is quick to call out Wyll's bullshit, Shadowheart pointing out the exaggeration the warlock had blended into his story. It soon devolved into a bickering match as Wyll tried to defend himself. You chuckle between sips of wine, leaning into Astarion, setting your head gently against his shoulder. His hand had found your bare thigh, fingers kneading the supple flesh. 

Suddenly, your friends become background noise as your senses hone in on Astarion. The cheeky smirk that stretches his lips tells you he knows exactly what he's doing as Astarion inches his smooth hand further under your dress—never crossing the line but far enough to make you clench your legs together in need. You bite your lip, cheeks burning from more than the alcohol, and reach down to take his hand in yours. 

"I know what you're doing,"

"Oh, and what is that, my dear?" Astarion grins, bringing your hand to his lips and gently kissing your knuckles. He leans to your ear, "Do you not want me to touch you?" His breath cascades over your neck, and a shiver runs up your spine.

"Not when you're trying to tease me in public."

"My sweet girl, I'm not the one being a tease."

"Soldier! Stop making goo-goo eyes at Fangs, and come dance with me!" Karlach yells across the table, breaking whatever spell Astarion had you under. Pulling away, you look up to see Karlach jumping up and down, hand outstretched for you to take. 

"You know I won't say no to dancing." Astarion reluctantly moves to let you out of the booth. Karlach is quick to grab your hand and pull you towards the stage. 

The time is lost in the beat of the drums and the flow of your hips. Karlach twirls you around, and you can't stop giggling. Wyll joins in the fun, and suddenly, the crowd has formed a unified line dance. It's messy, and you don't know the steps, but you watch Wyll and poke fun at Karlach's improvised moves. You dance until your breath is ragged and your feet start hurting. Moving your body until the sea of people starts to drown you. Maybe it's the alcohol coursing through your veins or the excitement of the dancing. Still, the fun quickly turns to overstimulation that blankets you in thick sheets. In an instant, the room is too hot and too loud, and if you don't get out now, you just might scream.

You leave Karlach and move towards the door outside to the back alley. Pushing it open, you stumble over the threshold and inhale the cold night air. It instantly sobers, clearing your mind and easing your panic. You stare up at the starry sky, soaking in the bright moon. Goosebumps spread over your exposed arms and legs, and you shiver. It doesn't stop you from stepping further into the alleyway as you breathe and allow your heart to settle its pounding. You can still hear the muffled music and thumping feet. 

You hear the door open again but pay it no mind until Astarion speaks, "There you are, my sweet."

You turn on your heel and give him a soft smile. He glowed under the moonlight, an ethereal being standing before you, his face partially cast in shadow, staring at you with hunger. "I needed some air."

"I'm sure you did," Astarion smirks, stepping closer toward you. A predator stalks up to its prey. "All that dancing you were doing must have been exhausting."

"It was, but it was so fun." You reach out instinctually, wrapping your arms around his neck. Astarion smoothes his hands down your spine to the swell of your butt, moving to squeeze the soft, plump flesh. "You should join me next time." You squeak at his grip, pressing yourself closer to him.

Then his lips are on yours, and your back is digging into the rough brick of the alleyway. Astarion's tongue is in your mouth, and you're moaning, gripping his shoulders to find purchase. One of his fangs nipped your bottom lip, and your knees practically buckled under you. You would have fallen if Astarion hadn't pressed you against the wall. 

"I think I just might take you dancing tomorrow." His cold hands caress your thigh, pulling it up and over his hip, pushing up the fabric of your dress with it. "I'll buy you a pretty new dress to add to your growing collection, and I'll have you move your body for me like you've been doing all night." 

He rolls his hips into yours, and you cry into his neck, kissing his skin to muffle your noises. "Swaying those hips in this tight little thing. Gods darling, I've been hard all night, and it's entirely your fault, you naughty little minx."

"Astarion," You sigh, relishing the friction of his hard cock against your clothed core. 

"Such a cruel woman, dangling a feast over a starving man. I'll have to punish you for that." Astarion purrs, running his nose along the line of your jaw, stopping to bite at his favorite spot; his fangs puncture the surface just enough to have droplets of your blood trickle out.

His tongue lavishes over your skin, making sure not a drop escapes. The moan that rumbles through his chest is purely animalistic, and a rush of heat gushes between your legs. "But right now, my naughty girl, I'm going to fuck you here against this wall." 

You let out a whimper, hips bucking instinctually, heat coiling in your lower stomach. "Please.." 

Astarion takes no time to push your underwear aside and push two of his fingers into your folds with a lewd, wet sound. Astarion begins to pump his fingers in and out of your dripping cunt, with each stroke curling up just slightly. The rough pad of his thumb finds your swollen clit, and applying pressure, he circles the nub in time with his fingers. 

"You're already so drenched, always so ready for me." You pull his face in and sigh into his mouth, niping his lip playfully. Threading your hand through his soft curls, you give a soft tug, relishing in the grunt Astarion gives you. 

You're painfully aware of your surroundings and know that someone could step out and catch the two of you any moment. The thought gives you a jolt of excitement you'll have to think about later. There is no room to take your time, so you tug harder on Astarion's hair loss, pulling his lips from the flesh of your neck he was playing with.

"Star," You roll your hips against his hand impatiently. "I need you to fuck me already,"

"So impatient, but you are right. This is not the time to play." Astarion tsk before unceremoniously ripping your underwear off and stuffing them in his pocket. 

"I liked those."

"I'll buy you a new pair, maybe one to match your new dress." Astarion peppers kiss down your neck. Your hands move to pull his pants down, freeing his cock. It's red and looks painfully swollen. Astarion hisses through his teeth when you give the base of his cock a tight squeeze. 

"I want one that matches the new dress and the same ones you just ripped." You countered, giving him a few languid strokes using his precum as a lubricant. 

"Whatever you want, my love." He says mindlessly, taking you into another breathtaking kiss.

Astarion hands leave your cunt, and a whine leaves your lips. He kisses your pout and quickly grabs his cock. Astarion pumps himself a few more times before lining up at your entrance. When Astarion sheaths himself fully in your heat, the wind is knocked out of you. A collective groan of ecstasy escapes from both of your mouths. There is no build-up, no room to catch your breath. Astarion quickly pulls out and slams back into you—your back scraps against the bricks, and your foot slips on the cobblestone.

You yelp scrambling to hold on and not fall pathetically onto the dirty alley floor. Astarion, without skipping a beat, scoops you up fully in his arms. All you can do is wrap your legs around his hips and hold on as he pounds into your dripping cunt. 

"Gods, you're perfect," Astarion signs into your neck. He pulls at your dress, moving the corset just enough to expose one of your breasts. He bends his head and sucks your nipple into his mouth. You choke on a gasp; cupping the back of his head, you press him further against you. 

"Astarion," you moan, carding your fingers into his curls. Rolling your hips, you match his thrusts. Your lower stomach tightens, and you will not last much longer. Not with him pulling you apart in the way only he can. You tried to say as much, but you choke on a sob when Astarion's fingers find your clit. 

He grinds your hips into the brick wall and brutalizes your clit with tight circles. His voice is raspy in your ears. "I'm close, love…ngh - gods, you feel so good."

"A-astarion, please!" Tears bead down your cheeks, pleasure overwhelming your senses. Your muscles are tightening. Your legs quake, and you clench tightly around him. 

"That’s it, come for me, beautiful." And that is all you need to see stars, opening your mouth in a silent cry. Ecstasy courses through your veins, and you bite down on his collarbone to ground yourself in your pleasure. His hips stutter, pace faltering as he loses himself in your body, spilling his seed deep into you. 

Neither of you moves; the brick is now uncomfortably digging into your back, but you can't find the energy to care. Astarion peppers kiss up and down your neck. You scratch his scalp softly and catch your breath. It’s nice.

"I guess I should wear more dresses."

"My dear, you could wear a burlap sack, and I would have still taken you against this wall."

"Horny bastard." 

The two of you were too caught up in each other to notice the tavern door opening again. Nor did either of you notice two figures stepping out. At least not until Karlach's loud cackle echoed down the alleyway. You whip your head in her direction, Astarion following suit. Karlach is hunched over and on her knees, shoulders shaking with laughter. Shadowheart stands beside her, arms crossed with disgust and annoyance plastered on her face.

Astarion is quick to turn you away, shielding you with his body. He let’s you go and you scramble to cover yourself. He helps you fix your dress. Great. 

"What did I tell you? Fangs couldn't keep it in his pants long enough to find a room!" Karlach booms, slapping Shadowheart on the arm. "Hand it over," her palm extended in wait. You hide your face in Astarion's neck, face burning in embarrassment. 

Shadowheart mumbled something under her breath, digging in her pocket for her gold pouch. "Here," the gold is slapped into the tieflings palm. She turns to the two of you. "Find a different cleric to cure whatever disease you've contracted in this filthy alley." Shadowheart quickly turns back into the tavern, the door slamming behind her. 

"Well, thanks for the gold," The tiefling beams and skips after Shadowheart, leaving you and Astarion alone once more. 

You refuse to leave the space between Astarion's jaw and collarbone. Thoughts of packing your stuff and running to Candlekeep are crossing your mind. Karlach and Shadowheart are already telling Wyll and Gale about your exploits, and you don't want to handle the smug looks. 

Astarion's chest rumbles with silent laughter, and you're pulled from your escape plans. You emerge from your safe space and glare up at the man. "What's so funny?!" 

He laughs harder, and runs his thumb over your pout, cupping your jaw. You hold firm in your annoyance and turn your head. "Karlach is telling all of our friends that we just fucked in a dirty back alley, why would you be laughing?" You snap.

"You would think at this point Shadowheart would stop betting on our love life. Tsk, all the gold she's lost." You narrow your eyes at him. His playful smirk widens. "She and the other weirdos should know how shamelessly I want you. They were lucky I didn't fuck you on the table." 

Rolling your eyes, you shove him hard, forcing Astarion to stumble back. Moving past you storm towards the door; he's laughing and calling your name. Astarion, only get your middle finger before the tavern door closes behind you.

Astarion is a cheeky shit. I love him.... Let me know what ya thought, i love your feedback.

Taglist: heartfully10, ayselluna

[lowkeyren]

drunk words, sober thoughts!

in which — “taking your boss home after he gets drunk for the nth time this week” wasn’t in your job description; but as emotions run high, would you still choose to resist his advances?

pairing — aventurine x gn!reader

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆  — wc: 2.1k, consumption of alcohol (aven is drunk), he’s so down bad for u its not even funny anymore, topaz + jade cameo ;) reblogs w comments are appreciated! please enjoy <3

the persistent ringing of your phone jolts you awake, pulling you from the depths of sleep. groggily, you reach out, fingertips searching for the source of the disturbance amidst the darkness of the room.

with a grunt of frustration, you finally locate your phone on the bedside table. your eyes squint against the harsh glow of the screen, revealing topaz's name flashing insistently.

"hello..?" you answered, your voice thick with drowsiness. 

"hey friend, sorry to wake you." topaz said, quickly getting to the point, "aventurine's getting wasted at the tavern here. can you come get him?" 

you rub your eyes, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. "aren’t you at the tavern too? why can't you do it instead..." you don't mean to sound rude, but anyone's mood would sour if they were woken up in the middle of their slumber, right? 

(and please just give me one night of peace, you want to add on)

but working as aventurine's secretary means there's barely ever any peace; you are constantly living a chaotic life, exhausted by his endless and, even more annoyingly, unpredictable shenanigans. maybe you shouldn’t have taken the position, but the pay and the view of his infuriatingly handsome face makes it all worthwhile.

topaz sighs. "trust me, i tried. but his stubborn ass is refusing to leave, i can't get through to him no matter what." 

in the background, you hear your boss call out to you, “mmmh [name]... c'meeere” his words slurred from the effects of alcohol. it's clear he's drunk; way too drunk actually. is he that far gone? you aren’t even there. 

it wasn't the first time he’s gotten this drunk, in fact he’s been drinking every other day lately —much to your concern. "alright, i'll be there soon." you reply, fully aware that his drunken antics would inevitably lead to a splitting headache.

"thanks. he's in pretty bad shape." topaz adds just as another slurred whine of your name cuts through the background. “...ugh, and please come quick” she hangs up before you can respond. you sigh again, throwing off the covers, and quickly dressing yourself before making your way to the tavern.

it looks like your night’s just getting started, because this is just another reminder of how taxing it is to clean up after your endearingly troublesome boss. 

as you step through the entrance of the tavern, your eyes scan the crowded space until they land on aventurine. he’s slumped over the counter, his head resting on his folded arms, and an array of empty glasses scattered around him. you notice topaz isn't beside him, and just as you reach for your phone, a notification pops up from her. 

"jade called, i have to go." fantastic, now you're stuck playing babysitter to your incredibly drunk boss all on your own. isn’t this just adding insult to injury..? you put your phone down, and make your way over to the counter, mentally bracing yourself for what’s to come. 

aventurine, whose cheeks are flushing from too many glasses of ale, immediately perks up when he catches sight of you. his posture shifts slightly, a clumsy attempt to straighten up. despite his dishevelled appearance and obvious inebriation, a sloppy grin spreads across his face; his usually sharp eyes now hazy, but his gaze remains unwavering.

“sir, it's time to go home. you’ve had enough for tonight.” you say firmly, your expression deadpan, the exhaustion in your system weighing heavily on you. “sweetheart... *hic* i missed youuuu," he slurs, words drawn out and muddled, the alcohol coating his tongue with each syllable. 

aventurine’s bleary eyes struggling to focus as they fix themselves on you, it’s evident he has it much worse tonight.  “mmh sweetheart, have i ever told you just how gorgeous you are?" his words linger in the air; though your expression remains indifferent, you can feel a subtle heat rising up your neck.

you hate how he has this effect on you, it shouldn't stir such feelings, especially given his role as your boss. though no matter the amount of times he effortlessly (re: shamelessly) slips endearments into your conversations, you can still sense the warmth bubbling up inside you —much to your dismay.

“yes sir, for the fourth time this week. and don’t try to distract me—” before you can finish, aventurine stumbles forward and envelops you in a tight embrace, the overpowering smell of alcohol engulfing your senses. his lips inches away from your ear, the proximity borders on suffocating in its allure; he rests his chin on your shoulder, his breath hot against your neck, stirring a rush of conflicting emotions within you.

you hadn’t had anything to drink tonight, so why are you feeling hazy, your head swirling with jumbled-up thoughts, and your body unexpectedly warming up? you fight to maintain your composure as aventurine holds you close, his grip unyielding.

“ahem… sir please release me immediately. ” you manage to say, your voice trembling slightly, cringing at your own words as it didn’t come out as stern as you had hoped.

aventurine seems to hesitate for a moment, his grip loosening ever so slightly, but he doesn't let go completely. “no… no sir, i’m not your sir” he mumbles, his words muffled against your shoulder.

two weeks ago, you would've redirected his attention firmly, steering clear of any personal entanglements that could complicate your working relationship. two weeks ago, you would’ve dismissed any hint of intimacy, and suppressed the flicker of attraction beneath layers of practicality and duty. 

now, however, your resolve falters as you stand enveloped in his embrace. the logical arguments that once guided your actions seem distant and irrelevant compared to the raw, magnetic pull of his presence.

in the face of his vulnerability, your defenses too crumble, leaving you grappling with conflicting impulses and unspoken desires —so you decide to indulge just this once.

“aventurine. there, happy?” you can feel his heart racing against yours, a syncopated rhythm that mirrors the tangle of emotions swirling within you. the line between professionalism and lovers has always been blurred between you. but now as his arms encircle you and his warmth seeps into your skin, it seems near impossible to define.

perhaps, all along, it was his intention for that line to fade away, to be erased completely.

he doesn’t respond with words, but instead holds you tighter, as if seeking solace in your presence. his name escapes your lips in a soft murmur, “kakavasha…?” the sound of your voice rings in his ear, lingering in the air like a whispered prayer.

he seems to delight in the way you utter his name, evident by how he savours each syllable like a rare delicacy.  you take his silence as your cue to continue, clearing your throat, “unfortunately the chauffeur is unable to make it at this hour, so i will—”

he cuts you off by releasing you from his grasp, yet keeps you ensconced in his arms, ensuring you face him directly. in the dim light, you finally get to see his flawless features up close for the first time tonight.

“i love you.” his words hang in the air, leaving you momentarily speechless. 

he stares into your eyes, a whirlwind of emotions surge within you. caught off guard, you let out a chuckle, unsure if his words are genuine or if he’s merely attempting to charm his way out of a situation again. 

“i bet you tell everyone that.” you shoot him an unimpressed look.

he pauses for a moment, his hands finding a comfortable place on your back before pulling you closer to him.  “i do.” he nods in confirmation, his gaze steady on yours. 

“i tell everyone that i love you.”

your heart skips a beat, actually no, you think you stopped breathing the moment those words left his mouth. does he know how much he tugs at your heartstrings? though you can’t help but wonder if he'll regret everything when he sobers up tomorrow. 

“aventurine, you’re drunk.” you say softly as you divert your gaze. "yes, and you’re everything i’ve ever wanted." he moves his free hand up to gently cup your cheek, eagerly waiting for the moment the room stops spinning so he can focus on your face again.

the world around you collapses the instant your eyes meet him again, it feels like he's baring his soul to you, grounding you with his touch, his presence. you gently place your hand over his that rests on your cheek, your voice barely above a whisper. "let's get you home first, and we can talk about this when you're sober."

“alright sweetheart, whatever you say...” he drawls out with a tipsy cadence, punctuated by his tightening hold on your back. you huff out in feign annoyance before grabbing his hand and dragging him out the tavern.

you navigate through the night with a very drunk aventurine leaning heavily against your side, his arm draped around your shoulder for support. “ugh you’re impossible when you’re drunk…” you chide with a playful roll of your eyes, half-supporting, and half-dragging him along. “please be reminded to give me a raise when this is over.”

aventurine’s occasional laughter punctuates through the quiet night, drawing the attention of a few late-night pedestrians who smile knowingly at the scene. and you swear you caught a glimpse of silver-white hair as you pass by an alley, maybe the lack of sleep is really taking a toll on you.

“you’re lucky you have a pretty face to make up for all this mess you’re dragging me through.” you remark subconsciously, only to be interrupted by him abruptly stopping in his tracks. he looks at you with a sheepish grin, cheeks still flushed.

“…you think i'm pretty?” 

you jab at him, maybe you should give him a few more while you have the chance. after all, he probably won't remember any of this tomorrow, right?

okay maybe aventurine wasn’t lying when he said he tells everyone that he loves you. (and apparently “everyone” includes his coworkers too)

the constant dinging of your phone makes you seriously consider launching it out the nearest window. you open the group chat and stare incredulously at the avalanche of texts flooding your screen.

[topaz sent an attachment]

seems like you weren’t hallucinating last night, topaz really was there —and she managed to snap a picture of you and aventurine.

“topaz?? i thought you had an emergency with jade”

“nah lol, jade was in on it”

“hope you had a great night dear, and make sure to let us know what happened~”

“you guys are menaces i swear!!!!”

before you can gather your thoughts, a pair of familiar arms wrap around your waist from behind, pulling you gently against his solid chest. you tense up, part of you wanting to melt into his hold; and despite your better judgement, you instinctively lean into him.

"so, what's the deal with you getting plastered every night?" you tease, momentarily forgetting about the texts as you turn your focus to aventurine.

“what else other than drowning out my sorrows over you, sweetheart.” he quips, sneaking a quick peck on your cheek, which you dodge just in time. 

“seriously? all those drinks were because you thought i wasn't into you?"

“hmm, yeah pretty much so.” he admits, truly his shamelessness knows no bounds.

“then i guess it’s about time you learn how to handle your losses.” you jest, nudging him as he raises an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eye. “there’s no need. i'll still tell you that i love you tomorrow, the day after, and every day after that until you finally let yourself believe it." 

aventurine will wait for the day you accept him, more than just your boss; he will wait for the day you whisper those three words, not just into his ear, but into the very depths of his heart. he will be there, patiently, until the day your soul finally speaks the truth that his heart has always known.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ 

masterlist

©lowkeyren 2024. please do not plagiarize, translate, repost on other platforms, or feed my works into ai.

[idealog]

Here is my livestream https://www.tumblr.com/live/idealog

When idealoggedon

[misswynters]

Big Bear

short drabble

featuring. Claggor x reader

a/n. ew this is celery (idk why i wrote this, enjoy my cringiness for claggor)

Zaun was always a city of noise, of heat, and of endless motion. It was a place where the streets hummed with the clanging of machines, the echo of heavy boots, and the constant pulse of life. But in the midst of it all, you always found peace in Claggor's company.

You and Claggor had always been close, but over time, the bond between you grew into something more. He was a big guy, towering over most people with broad shoulders and arms that were built for lifting heavy things. But despite his rough appearance, you had always known there was more to him. There was a softness to his heart, a tenderness in the way he looked at you when he thought no one was watching.

The way he’d chuckle softly at your jokes, the way he’d make sure you were always safe. You admired his quiet strength, the way he moved through the world with purpose. You could always rely on him, whether it was to help you carry something or to keep you safe when the world felt too overwhelming.

One day, you were hanging out in the corner of a rundown tavern, sipping a cup of warm cider to combat the chill of Zaun's weather. The others were nearby: Jinx, Vi, and the rest of the crew. However, you found yourself drawn to Claggor’s presence. He was leaning against a pillar, looking out over the others, but his eyes were always coming back to you, just to make sure you were alright.

You were tiny compared to him, a little more delicate than most, but you had never let it stop you. You often joked about how the rest of the crew treated you like their little sibling, but Claggor’s attention was always different. He treated you like you were something to be cared for. And you never minded it.

"Hey, what's up?" Claggor asked, walking over to you with that characteristic smile on his face.

You tilted your head back, catching the glint of amusement in his eyes. "Nothing much. Just thinking." You shrugged, taking another sip of your drink.

Claggor raised an eyebrow, stepping closer, his massive frame towering over you. "Thinking, huh?" He crouched down to your level, his eyes softening as they met yours. “About what?”

You sighed, looking up at him with a smirk. “How you’re so huge, Claggor. I don’t even know how you can fit in places sometimes."

His laugh came out low and rumbling, the sound somehow making you feel warm inside. "You’re the one who needs to watch out, not me. I’m a lot bigger than I look."

That was true. His arms were thick with muscle, and the biceps that you’d once admired now seemed to pulse with strength as he flexed them playfully. The sight made something inside of you stir. There was something undeniably magnetic about the way he carried himself. His physical strength, his imposing size, it was all so gentle with you.

Before you could think too much about it, Claggor’s large hand reached out, curling around your waist as he effortlessly lifted you off your feet with a single arm. The move was so natural, so fluid, that it took you by surprise, and you found yourself gasping a little. "Wha—Claggor!" You laughed, trying to keep yourself steady, your hands resting lightly on his forearm.

His grin widened, and he held you even closer, pulling you against his chest as if you weighed nothing. “Told you, you need to watch out for me. You’re so tiny, it’s like picking up a feather.”

You were surprised by how easily he could lift you, his big arms cradling your body like you were nothing. It felt both safe and dizzying, his touch so secure but also sending a rush of warmth through your body. He smelled like sweat, metal, and the faintest hint of something musky.

"You’re so strong," you whispered, unable to help yourself as you gazed up at him. His muscles flexed beneath your hands, and your heart skipped a beat.

Claggor’s face softened as he looked down at you, his eyes flickering with something deeper than his usual teasing. “I’m strong because I have to be," he said, his voice quieter now. "But with you... I don’t need to show off. You make me want to be gentler."

You felt your heart swell at his words, the sincerity in his voice pulling you in. You leaned in slightly, pressing your cheek against his shoulder. His grip on you tightened, pulling you closer still.

"Youre such a softie, Claggor," you whispered, your voice soft, barely above a breath. "Like a cuddly teddy bear."

Claggor's grin widened, and he let out a soft laugh. "Guess that makes you my favorite person to spoil," he said, his tone full of warmth. He pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead. "You’ve got a way of making me feel like I can be soft and still be enough."

You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, and you let out a quiet, contented sigh. There was something so comforting in his presence, in the way he held you. In his arms, you felt small, sure, but you also felt like the most important person in the world to him.

"Claggor," you whispered, looking up at him through your lashes. “You really know how to make a girl feel special, don’t you?”

His gaze softened, and he leaned in, his lips brushing lightly against yours in a soft, lingering kiss. The connection was so tender, so full of quiet affection, that you almost didn’t want it to end. But when it did, Claggor pulled back just slightly, his thumb brushing against your cheek.

“I don’t have to try too hard, do I?” he teased, his voice low, warm, and full of affection.

“No,” you said softly, reaching up to touch his jaw, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingers. “You never have to try too hard.”

His gaze darkened just a little, his hand sliding to the back of your neck as he pulled you closer again. This kiss was deeper, slower, and it left you breathless. You couldn’t help but melt into it, feeling his strong arms around you, his body pressing you close in a way that made you feel safe and cared for.

When he pulled back, he smiled at you again, a soft, loving smile that melted your heart. “I’ll always be here, y’know. To keep you safe, to make you feel special.”

You smiled up at him, your heart racing. “Of course, Claggor. I know.”

And in that moment, you didn’t need anything more than the quiet certainty that he would always be by your side, his strength and tenderness a perfect balance for your own quieter nature. In his arms, you had everything you needed. His love, his strong arms and most importantly his wonderful big heart.

taglist. @diffusebread

[novaursa]

Web of Gold (honeymoon)

- Summary: Alicent could only watch as you handle her son like a lioness who plays with her food.

- Pairing: lannister!reader/Aegon II Targaryen

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: royal wedding

- Next part: addendum

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround @purple-1995 @thisbiann @whiteoakoak

The tour of the realm—the grand honeymoon Aegon had so eagerly promised—was supposed to be a diplomatic gesture, a way for you and your new husband to visit various lords and strengthen alliances. In reality, however, it was quickly becoming one of the most entertaining—and slightly absurd—experiences you had ever endured.

From the moment you and Aegon set out from King’s Landing, it was clear that Aegon had no intention of treating this tour with the gravitas expected of a king and queen. He was far more interested in the celebration aspect of things. Every castle you visited, every hall you entered, Aegon treated as if it were a grand feast thrown in his honor, no matter what the occasion.

It started in the Reach, where you were welcomed with open arms at Highgarden by Lord Tyrell, who was clearly under the impression that this would be a formal visit of state. But Aegon, with a goblet of wine already in hand before your first meeting even began, made it quite clear that he had different priorities.

“My lord,” Aegon said with a broad grin, clapping the startled Tyrell lord on the back, “I’ve heard your harvests are the finest in the realm, and your wines even finer. Let’s see if your reputation lives up to the tales!”

You had to stifle a laugh as the poor lord blinked, clearly taken aback, but before he could respond, Aegon had already started ordering another round of drinks for the both of you, as if this were a tavern and not the stately halls of Highgarden. Needless to say, the formal diplomacy soon devolved into an impromptu drinking competition between Aegon and Lord Tyrell, which ended, unsurprisingly, with Aegon declaring himself the victor—though the Tyrell lord was too tipsy to argue by the time it was over.

You leaned over to Aegon at one point, watching him slosh another goblet of wine in his hand as he grinned widely. “Aegon, darling,” you said with mock seriousness, “I do believe we were supposed to discuss matters of state, not… sample the entire vintage of the Reach.”

Aegon chuckled, leaning in to press a sloppy kiss to your cheek. “Oh, Y/N, don’t be so serious. I’m the king; I can do both.” He winked at you, though his aim was slightly off, thanks to the wine. “Besides, isn’t this more fun?”

It was hard to argue with him when you were laughing as much as he was. And while you certainly hadn’t expected the tour to take this direction, you had to admit—it was far more entertaining than sitting through endless, dull meetings.

After Highgarden, you traveled to the Riverlands, where Lord Tully welcomed you with a lavish banquet. It was supposed to be a more subdued affair, given the Riverlands' recent struggles with uprisings, but Aegon once again found a way to turn the evening into something far less formal. By the time the main course had been served, Aegon had somehow convinced the entire Tully family to join him in an impromptu archery competition in the courtyard, all of them still in their fine dinner attire.

“Come now, Y/N,” Aegon called to you from across the courtyard, bow in hand. “Join me! Let’s show them how it’s done.”

You raised an eyebrow, standing at the edge of the gathering with a goblet of wine in hand. “Are you suggesting I try to shoot a bow in this gown?” you asked, glancing down at the intricate layers of silk and embroidery. “I’m sure the Tullys would love that.”

Aegon grinned, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “If anyone can pull it off, it’s you.”

Rolling your eyes but unable to resist, you made your way over to him, accepting the bow he handed you with a flourish. The lords and ladies gathered around watched with varying degrees of amusement, clearly not expecting much from the queen. But with a wink at Aegon, you drew the bowstring and released the arrow, which sailed through the air and landed with a satisfying thunk—right in the center of the target.

The crowd erupted into applause, and Aegon let out a loud cheer, clearly more impressed than anyone else. “That’s my queen!” he declared, throwing an arm around you and pulling you close, much to the delight of the watching lords and ladies.

By the time you reached the Stormlands, word had spread about the rather unconventional nature of your tour, and Lord Baratheon greeted you both with a knowing smirk. “I hear you’ve been making quite the impression across the realm,” he said, his voice dripping with amusement.

Aegon grinned, clearly proud of himself. “Ah, well, I find it’s better to… engage with the people, you know? Keep things lively.”

You smiled sweetly at Lord Baratheon, though you could see the glint of amusement in his eyes as well. “It’s true,” you added. “Aegon certainly knows how to keep things interesting.”

And so it went. Every castle, every lord, every gathering became less about politics and more about the sheer fun of it all. Aegon, for all his recklessness, had a way of turning every situation into a celebration, and while it certainly wasn’t what you had anticipated for your honeymoon, you couldn’t help but enjoy it.

As you sat beside Aegon one evening, the two of you watching the sunset over the Stormlands after yet another lively feast, he leaned over, resting his head on your shoulder with a contented sigh.

“Well,” he said, his voice softer now, the effects of the wine finally wearing off, “I hope this has been everything you wanted, Y/N.”

You chuckled, wrapping an arm around him and resting your head against his. “It’s been more than I expected, that’s for sure,” you replied with a grin. “But I can’t say I’m disappointed.”

Aegon lifted his head, gazing at you with that familiar mischievous glint in his eyes. “Good. Because the fun’s not over yet.” He winked, leaning in to kiss you. “We still have the Westerlands to visit, and I have a feeling your Lannisters kin will be just as easy to outdrink as the Reach.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “We’ll see about that, Aegon. We’ll see.”

Back at the Red Keep, while you and Aegon were off turning the realm into your personal festival circuit, Dowager Queen Alicent paced the halls with mounting frustration. The soft clack of her shoes against the stone floors echoed through the corridors as she moved from one chamber to another, her face set in a deep scowl.

Every day seemed to bring a new report of Aegon’s increasingly ridiculous antics on this “honeymoon tour.” The letters from various lords were enough to make her blood boil—lavish parties, archery contests in formal wear, impromptu wine tastings. This was how her son was representing the crown? By gallivanting around Westeros like a drunken fool with you at his side, fanning the flames of his excess?

Alicent couldn’t help but bristle at the thought of you—you with your golden hair and saccharine smile, always indulging Aegon’s whims, always filling his goblet and laughing at his every joke. And now you were doing it across the entire realm, parading around like the perfect, doting queen. It was infuriating.

Sitting in her solar, Alicent could feel her hands clenching around the arms of her chair. "Aegon needs to act like a king," she muttered under her breath. "Not… not like some… minstrel.”

Across the room, Otto Hightower, her father and Hand of the King, sat at the table, perusing a stack of letters. His face, however, did not mirror Alicent’s irritation. Instead, Otto looked entirely satisfied, his lips curved into a subtle, knowing smile as he read through the reports.

“This alliance with the Lannisters,” he said, his tone calm, “is proving to be a stronger one than we could have hoped for. The lords of the realm are very pleased with the union. Aegon and Y/N have created quite the spectacle, and while I’m sure some of it is less… traditional than we might have expected, the results speak for themselves.”

Alicent shot him a sharp look, her eyes narrowing. “You mean to tell me you approve of Aegon turning the tour into a debauchery?”

Otto didn’t look up from the letters, but his smirk widened slightly. “What I approve of, my dear daughter, is that the Lannisters are firmly in our grasp. Jason and Tyland are content with the match, and the realm views Aegon’s marriage as a symbol of unity. The bannermen may raise an eyebrow at Aegon’s behavior, but they cannot argue with the strength of this alliance.”

Alicent huffed, clearly unsatisfied with that reasoning. “And what happens when Aegon’s behavior becomes… more than a mild embarrassment? What then?”

Otto finally looked up, his gaze cool and calculating. “Aegon may be reckless, but he’s still king. And Y/N, for all her indulgence, has proven to be a stabilizing force. She understands what needs to be done, and if she can keep Aegon’s temper in check, then this marriage will be more beneficial than any of us anticipated.”

Alicent pursed her lips, her fingers drumming lightly on the armrest. She hated to admit it, but Otto had a point. You did seem to have a way with Aegon—keeping him entertained, keeping him happy. Still, it grated on her that her son was more easily controlled by you than by her. After everything she had done for him, after all the sacrifices she had made, it was you he turned to now.

But while Otto’s satisfaction was clear, there was another member of the family whose mood seemed far more difficult to decipher. Aemond, who usually maintained his composure with cold, unshakable resolve, had been unusually brooding since your departure with Aegon. He spent hours in the training yard, his sword slashing through the air with a fierceness that bordered on frustration, but he rarely spoke of what was bothering him.

Alicent watched him from her place by the window, her brow furrowing. Aemond had never been particularly fond of Aegon’s antics, but this was different. There was a weight to his silence, a tension in the way he moved. She had tried to ask him about it before, but Aemond had simply brushed her off with his usual vague remarks about duty and honor.

Now, as she watched him pace the yard below, his expression dark and unreadable, Alicent felt her frustration grow. She had come to rely on Aemond’s steadiness, his ability to maintain order where Aegon could not, but something had shifted. He was distracted, preoccupied with something she couldn’t quite place.

When she finally approached him later that day, Aemond was standing by the fire in his chambers, his arms crossed over his chest, staring into the flames as though they held the answers to some unspoken question.

“Aemond,” Alicent said softly, stepping into the room. “You’ve been… distant, lately.”

He didn’t turn to face her, but his voice was low and controlled. “I have my reasons, Mother.”

Alicent crossed the room, her brow furrowed. “Is it Aegon’s marriage?” she asked, though the question felt incomplete even as she said it. “Do you… disapprove of Y/N?”

Aemond’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, the silence in the room was thick enough to cut. Finally, he spoke, his voice cold but with an edge that Alicent hadn’t expected. “Y/N is more than capable of handling Aegon. She does what is necessary to keep him in line.”

The words were calm, but there was something beneath them—something Alicent couldn’t quite decipher. She narrowed her eyes, trying to understand. “Then why are you—”

“It’s nothing,” Aemond cut her off sharply, his gaze still fixed on the fire. “Aegon’s behavior will catch up to him eventually. Until then, there is nothing to be done.”

But Alicent wasn’t convinced. She had seen the way Aemond’s eye lingered on you at the wedding feast, the tension in his shoulders whenever your name was mentioned. There was more to this than he was willing to admit.

She stepped closer, her voice softening. “Aemond, if there is something troubling you, you must tell me.”

For the briefest moment, Aemond’s expression faltered, his eye flicking toward her before he looked away again. His voice, when he spoke, was quieter this time, though the edge was still there. “It’s nothing you can fix, Mother.”

And with that, he turned, leaving Alicent standing in the room alone, more confused than ever.

[mihii-i]

tides.

Pairings: navia x fem!reader

CW: nsfw, female reader, siren au, pirate/sailor reader (whatever u want it to be lol), wlw, girls kissing obv, sesbian lex muahahaha, men can interact but uhm it might be awkward bc navia talks about how much she hates men (sorry :( ), officer the sex comes outta nowhere, who is this diva, no seriously I made navia extra sassy here, virgin reader, underwater sex idfk?, fingering, kinda vanilla, marking, breast play ig, written when I am VERY sleepy, not proofread.

A/N: I would no joke let navia- I mean who said that. this is part of @edgeray ‘s halloween event :3 🕯️

Splashes of ocean water ripped through the wavering currents in the cold dead of night, patterns of stars decorating the sky alongside the moon as the only faint light source in the clearing as she ship rocked from side to side. You stared down the ledge of the large ship, sail standing proud directly behind you as you inched closer to the edge to drown out the obnoxious hollers of your crewmates. The relentless voyage stretched out for an agonizingly extended period of time—months possibly. Before you, the endless stretch of the ocean consumed your sights altogether, becoming the only thing filling your sights as the consuming waves engulfed the previous body of water trailing behind you.

Your crewmates had never failed to remain a pain in the ass as well, constantly taunting you and disrupting your peace with an insolent remark hurled at you as their irritating laughter erupted throughout the ship. On top of the sloppy lifestyle the men on the ship had shared, it didn’t exactly help that you were one of the few women present on the ship. Or maybe you were the only one? You had lost track at this point.

Regardless, you always scoffed at the unkempt behaviors of your crewmates advancing toward you or spitting useless nonsense toward you in an attempt to mansplain something, disgust boiling up inside you. You merely attempted to drown out their presence as nothing more than white noise circling the clearing, cutting through the initially peaceful silence of the quiet waves and gentle air. Yet, it was still as if you had been cursed with remaining in a trashed wooden sail afloat in the middle of nowhere surrounded by people who would probably murder you if they had the chance to. That’s what they’d do to any crewmate who was the least bit civilized atleast.

Sighing, your eyes lowered shut, lashes briefly brushing onto your skin. You savored the cool air grazing your face, which out outstretched to gaze upward as if you had offered yourself to the unending void of a sky to come take you away. Sometimes, you pondered if it would be better for you to just escape your responsibility as a pirate. Leaving behind the life of plundering and theiving to carve a new path of what you wanted. Maybe then you atleast wouldn’t be awoken by the stinging smell of booze engulfing your room in the middle of your rest as some drunken crewmate would rummage through your belongings unprompted.

“(Name)! The hell you staring out for- for that long? You’re not tryna avoid us, yeah?”

You pursed your lips quietly, shoulders hunching up as you gripped the edge of the boat tightly, fingers dragging along the raw wood. His voice was nothing but a pestering vibration that rang in the air, only serving to gauge your annoyance further.

“Maybe I am? Leave me alone. I don’t want to join your cheap ship tavern with rum and puke.”

He rolled his eyes in response, clearing his throat as he brought a hand to his chest to surpress his own gulp of drinks bubbling up in his throat.

“Ugh. You’re no fun. But for once nah, we want everyone to come around since we saw something poking out of the water. Seemed like a huge catch for a fish maybe.”

Upon hearing his words, you couldn’t help but cock an eyebrow in mild skepticism. Perhaps those were the rushes of water thumping against the fervent currents, splashing a few pools of salty ocean water onto the edge of the ship occasionally. Curious, you made your way over to the large array of crewmates pinned up to the ledge, peering down at the ripples of water followed by strong currents grazing along the base of the ship.

A…fish? Had everyone drank too much? There weren’t much fish around this part of the sea visible to a sailor’s naked eye. They typically presided in the deep pressure of the ocean around here.

Maybe your crewmates never left behind their idiotic sense of fascination. That would be the most plausible answer as to why their eyes seemed to be tracing nothing. A disappointed groan left the crew members one by one as they detached themselves from the ledge, disappointed as they trudged back into their respective cabins at the lack of anything particularly eye catching. Morons.

“(Name)! Keep watch again for us, will you?”

You couldn’t do much to be fair, besides heave a disappointed groan and shoot your drunken crewmate a disdainful glare as he flashed you that shit eating grin, stumbling over to his room before slamming the door behind him. And so there you stood. Still in the middle of the rocking ship like an unmovable stone, weighing down on the creaking floorboards wavering beneath you as the violent thrusts of the ocean continued to slice through your ears.

It felt quite unnatural, as if something presiding in the growingly murky waters of the sea torrented the initially neutral water gently splashing along the sea. The moonlit sky reflected in the still clear ripples of the ocean, your eyes squinting as you caught the pale light shining along the edge of a curved obstacle protruding to the surface from below the naked eye. Furrowing your brows, you shielded the top of your eyes, focusing your vision on the intrusion abnormally poking out of the currents.

Mind clouded with confusion, the fog around the area only grew thicker as the clouds occasionally masked the darkened sky. Suddenly, your swirling thoughts began to subside as your tense muscles relaxed, grip on the wood ledge loosening as a serene melody hummed through the air, the effects it brought upon clearing your mind almost intoxicating. You breathed out calmly, hearing the beautiful voice of a woman float alongside the swishes of water as you felt yourself slowly leaning further and further along the ledge.

Her sweet voice only entranced you further and further, drawing you in as it grew more prominent. Longing to push past the ledge to take in her velvety voice closer to you. However you couldn’t help but feel the unnerving sting faltering your longing thoughts, trying to fight back with a drop of rationality while you pushed against the edge closer, face nearly coming into contact with the circling waves. Who could possibly singing this late? And who would there even be to sing in the middle of nowhere?

You saw the object curve out of the surface of the ocean past the clearing, now nearing your line of sight and making itself more clear in the dim moonlight rolling along the waters to illuminate the bare minimum in a close proximity. Now getting a clearer look, the object nearly resembled that of a fish’s tail, a pretty shade of light blue spanning along each subtle scale along it. What an odd color for a fish, perhaps that’s what your crewmates saw earlier, as it was the only fish that could see so far. In fact— it happened to be as big as you recalled from what the others pointed out.

Your tongue flattened against the roof of your mouth in anticipation, feeling an uneasiness churning in your stomach as the scaled ridge rippled closer and closer to the side of the boat. However instead of backing away, you found yourself peering over the ledge, hands tightened at the rim of the ship as the splintering wood grazed your calloused hands. Leaping over, you thudded down onto the boat with a soft ‘oof,’ your thoughts screaming at you internally to question if you were insane. You knew your curiosity outmatched your rationality, yet you couldn’t help but be drawn to the sea blue tail peeking out from the waves, and complimented by the moonlight.

What met your eyes next was quite a sight to behold, your jaw nearly dropping from the radiance that blinded your eye. A stunning woman arched above the surface of the water in one swift motion, head tilted back as her near cinematic entrance sent droplets of water seeming to float in the air around her in slow motion. Her starry blue eyes locked onto your form, bottom lip glistening a gorgeous tint of pink to compliment her honey blonde hair spilling down her shoulders.

Her gaze snapped up to you in less than a single second, heavy eyes opening up a bit as she raised her eyebrows in slight surprise to take in your seated form on the dock. You didn’t expect The gorgeous lady to hoist herself up from the sea, hands planted at either side of your waist as she rose herself to the edge of the ship where you sat, face dangerously close. Instinctively, you hunched your shoulders back, leaning your head back to harbor more space between your faces—yet, the woman closed the gap each time, the tip of her nose brushing against yours as you felt her soaked skin graze against yours.

Raising an eyebrow, she kept that unmoving indifferent expression, sinking herself down into the sea once more as she rested her arms along the wood. The end of her tail briefly peeked out of the ocean’s bristling surface, her cheek pressed against her resting hands as her head tilted to the side, gaze immediately snapping back to you as you swore that the corner of her lip slightly curved up in a smile.

“Huh. I expected something I could drag down again.” She finally spoke, her expression growing more and more amused upon observing your confusion. She leaned back with a sigh, pink tinted lips gleaming under the light as the reflections of the water silhouetted her form. “I surely didn’t think to encounter someone so…gorgeous. Fully expected some middle aged drunkard.”

Your eyes remained fixed on the oddly shaped fin structures in place of her ears, not even registering her words completely out of the initial shock that stung you just now. Had you just encountered a live mermaid? You thought they were just tales employed by a bunch of sailors for their own laughs.

Now looking at her upfront…the draconic fins, frail body, those deadpan eyes tracing you, all the characteristics fit that of a siren instead.

Noticing your blank gaze staring at possibly nothing, she rose her hand to hover over your cheek carefully, puffing out a quick sigh at your absentmindedness. Quickly, you rushed back to your senses, blinking to ground yourself back into reality for a moment.

“Don’t be like that, dear sailor. A pretty girl like you isn’t nameless, correct?” She hummed, a subtle smirk crossing her features as she tilted her head to come face to face with you. The way her head had angled as if it were to intersect your lips, sky blue eyes flickering to your quivering lower lip being nothing short of gesturing a kiss, her stance as her arms elevated her up to level with you being oddly…intimate.

“Are you..a siren?”

Her eye twitched, brows knitted together in mild frustration in less than the blink of an eye as her fingers dug into the wood to maintain her composure. You clasped a hand over your mouth defensively, seeming to realize far too late that perhaps you shouldn’t have asked such a question so- upfront when she was the one who inquired your name in a playful manner first.

She reached up her hand to her forehead, bridge of her nose situated between her thumb and forefinger in annoyance as she pushed out a breath to calm herself. God, the one sailor she took interest in, she wanted to fucking murder in this moment.

“Are you serious? I asked you a question, clearly interested, and that’s what you ask me?”

“Sorry..”

“Fuck it. It’s fine. Not like you’re someone trying to hunt me down only to be killed.”

She paused, eyes narrowing as she took note of the expectant look remaining on your face, clearly still wanting the answer to your abruptly dumb question earlier. Scoffing, she rolled her eyes, unamused by your clueless antics.

“Yes. I am. Happy? Name’s Navia, now if it isn’t so hard to tell me your name like I did to you?”

You flinched at her sudden aggression, tilting your head bashfully. Guess she really didn’t like the moment getting ruined.

“..(Name).”

Navia hummed softly in approval, velvety voice spurring against her throat in a gentle exhale of breath. Her hand dragged along yours, a spark flying through you upon feeling her soaked skin stick to yours so closely. Evidently so, you had piqued the sea creature’s interest quite a bit, your breathing shallowing out upon feeling a chill envelope your whole body, goosebumps blooming against your exposed skin along with the chilling winds.

“Gorgeous. Absolutely beautiful. It suits someone as beautiful as you.”

You couldn’t help but allow the burning heat to creep up to your cheeks, blood rushing to your head as you felt your face grow hot from the faint red tint.

“So why aren’t you killing me, Navia?”

Tapping her chin thoughtfully for a moment, Navia flashed you a smile, pressing her chest to the edge of the dock to speak with you a bit closer.

“I dunno. Saw a sailor that wasn’t a drunk moron eating at anything that’s money, sailor happened to be a pretty girl, and everything happened from there I guess.” She answered in a lighthearted tone, nails digging into the wood of the ship to ground herself. Just so happened the sweet siren here had pretty sharp nails, pointed at the tips just at the right amount to cut open human flesh to the bone.

“So…I say..if you wanna live unlike what I think I wanna do to your crewmates..”

Her hands suddenly shifted over to your thighs draped over the edge, planting them down for support against you. By now, you had to choke back the rapid breaths catching in your throat, heart feeling it was going to beat right out of your chest as it thudded against your insides violently. Of course you couldn’t help it, you felt somewhat aroused by the sight of a gorgeous woman, who so happened to be an exotic sea creature looming over you with her palms planted onto your clothed thighs. You’d never let her outright know that though.

Navia’s cool breath suddenly fanned against your cheek, pretty pink lips alarmingly close as she grazed them along the shell of your ear. Still held up impressively by her mere arm strength pushing her up to come face to face with you. Her bare body brushed against the loose fabric of your shirt puffed out, draped over you as the neckline formed a V shape over the opening of your chest.

Her sharp fragrance of saltwater clawed at the back of your throat as you took in her scent as she leaned against you chest to chest now, the strong tonicity being substituted with a much more pleasantly mellow aroma presenting itself for you to breathe in. Your head spun as your pupils flickered in Navia’s wake, her nails still dug into your thighs temptingly as she had probably torn parts of the cloth and poked holes into your pants. Clicking her tongue, her breath hitting your ear only served to further heighten your lust blinded haze, flinching as her pointed teeth grazed along your ear as she spoke once more to complete her dangling thought.

“Come underwater with me. I promise I won’t kill you or anything. It’ll feel…nice.”

“How am I supposed to do that? I’m human, I can’t just dunk myself underwater and be expected to breathe the whole time.”

Navia merely grumbled at your naive response, biting the inside of her cheek. You only cocked your head to the side, puzzled by her random changes in demeanor in this moment.

“(Name). I get that you live with your braindead crewmates, but surely acting like some virgin will get you nowhere around me.”

“Ah..”

You pursed your lips at her remark, dozing your gaze off to the side in embarrassment. Sweat patterned along your back as the tides began to assault your ankles now, the water refreshingly warm in contrast to Navia’s hypothermic body temperature adhering droplets of water along every inch of your own. She feigned an expression of shock at your bashful hesitation, bringing her hand to her lips in a gesture that made you huddle in a bit from embarrassment.

“Don’t tell me…you haven’t-?”

You shook your head, clearing your throat to distract yourself—and her—from the fact that your face was a scorching scarlet hue from the fairly lewd topic at hand.

“Well then…if you come with me I can fix that..? What do you say, (Name)?”

Her teasing voice only spurred you further to dart your sights down to her hands now subtly parting your thighs, the beautiful gradient of her nails sharpened along her skin quickening your breathing as you choked back a whine from her evidently seductive motions. A single nod was all that was needed as her hands shot up from between your legs to snake around your neck, grasping on as she clawed at your nape all of a sudden. An involuntary gasp left you upon feeling the sting of her nails along the back of your neck, breath held between your cheeks the moment she fell back into the sea, dragging you along with her.

Sinking deeper into the rushing blue waters circling you, Navia’s arms remained locked around your neck, tail shielding your leg for additional support as you descended down into the depths of the ocean. The minute you hit a strange sort of dome in which you could breathe underwater, you in fact—couldn’t exactly breathe properly. Your legs pressed together as jolts of pleasure enveloped your body, a high rush overtaking you as you noticed Navia wasting absolutely no time as she held you down into the sand.

Rasped out mewls began to endlessly spill from your lips as your hips mindlessly bucked forward into Navia’s touch, her middle and ring finger knuckles deep in your cunt as she parted your walls to accommodate her fingers splitting you open. Ecstasy clouded your mind at her intoxicating touch, nails brushing up against that one spot within you as her freehand was clasped around your wrists to hold you down.

Every worry you had embedded in your mind, every issue that had haunted you on your journey had faded away under her touch, your lips parted as a string of noises followed through with each relentless thrust of her fingers curling your warm, velvety walls. Her movements remained somewhat gentle, yet fervent as heat clouded the two of you in the intense moment, teeth pressed against the exposed skin of your throat to muffle a moan fighting against her lips.

Perhaps her mind had also been relieved in this moment while she fucked you underwater. The constant unprovoked attacks from wandering sailors, sudden encounters with people who had never caught her eye in the moment, Navia just needed to get away from it all. And you were perfect for her. It’s as if the gods had bestowed upon her a sailor with lips as sweet as saccharine. And the minute she raised her head from your throat to glance over at your face twisted in lust, her lips found their way to crash against yours, tongue brushing along your bottom lip any chance she got in that hungry kiss she captured you with.

Sure enough, you tasted sweet just like she theorized.

Your intoxicating scent, the sweetness of your lips, your moans vibrating against her mouth while her fingers drove in and out at a steady, yet roughened pace to slam against your cunt…

It was all so fucking perfect.

Bright red hickeys bloomed in a trail of fire against your exposed skin, your gasps increasing in pitch and frequency as her thumb brushed along your exposed nipple. A near scream boiled in your throat as Navia’s own noises reverberated against your lips, your breaths growing quicker as a third finger entered the heavenly mix. You frantically reached a hand up to grip onto her bare back tightly, nails raking down her pale skin as she threw her head back to choke out a little whimper.

“N-Navi- please…m’gonna-“

—

Breathing heavily, you lay fully clothed. Back flush against the edge of the ship once more, staring at the sky aimlessly as your now soaked clothing pooled out drains of seawater onto the dock. You craned your neck over, glancing at the siren who hoisted you back up as you seemed to be completely out of breath. A smile stretched her lips at your exhausted form, innocently waving as she fluttered her fingers. Huh. Acting like she didn’t just fuck the life out of you with those.

Navia’s chin rested along the edge of the boat once more, leaning over to plant a sweet kiss against your cheek. You were too spent to move at all, yet you still smiled weakly as you lay like starfish outstretched in water on the boat. She chuckled, eyes briefly flickering to the visible marks on your neck not covered by your clothes.

“Will I be seeing you again in this part of the sea, (Name)?”

“Without a doubt. Just make sure I can move next time.”

“Not my fault you have no experience.”

“Oh come on..I promise I’ll be the one on top next time, ‘kay?”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

You rasped out a strained laugh, smiling at Navia as she lowered herself back into the water before flashing you a quick wink.

“I’ll see you around, my sweet sailor.”

And just like that, she disappeared into the depths of the water. Leaving you on your back, all soaked and marked up as your clothes stuck to you body in a transparent fashion.

Hell, maybe you’ll bring her something next time.

A/N: PLEASE DONF HAVE HIGH EXPECTATIONS THIS CAME OUT SO BAD IM SO SLEEPI LEAB ME ALONEEEE WAAAAAA

okay jk yall are awesome but IM SLEEPY. GOODNIGHT.

[yandereunsolved]

Yandere Aegon with barkeep reader—you aren't getting paid enough for this.

Yandere Aegon always escaped to Fleabottom to indulge in pleasures and escape painful memories. The weight of the crown on his head nearly snapped his neck every time he was forced to wear it. Yet here, in Dragon Breaths Tavern, he was simply another stranger within the crowd of thousands. He always chose to conceal his appearance, but his voice was always what gave him away.

He has a favorite barkeep: you.

You always listen to his ramblings. You make sure he has somewhere to sleep when he is far too intoxicated to escape back to the castle. You're irritable and snap at people. It's hot. You never let anyone get away with anything in the bar, not even him. 

Mhm.

He'd whine your name in the middle of the night when his mind was far too gone to care about the possible consequence.

Yandere Aegon is incredibly talkative while drunk. His depression, or known at that time as just an incurable sadness, was on full display. He'd ask for your strongest drink and order so many that he forgot his name and title. It was almost endearing. He'd babble on about what made him sad, and you'd listen attentively.

You didn't have to worry much about people realizing he was the king. The ones that did disappeared. They were murdered, most likely.

You may have no formal education, but that doesn't make you completely inept.

You could see the unhinged glint in his violet irises. You could tell he was getting attached. You just couldn't do much about it. You need the job, and he never forgets to give you a hefty tip for your service.

Yandere Aegon has propositioned you on multiple occasions. Most of the time he's plastered, a handful he's not. He always gives you a sly smile and some fleeting touches. You scolding him only makes him want you more. He's hard more than he's drunk.

Whether you agreed to it or not, the only difference is time. If you love him, then you get your freedom just a bit longer. If you're stubborn about your love, then he'll make sure there are chains around your hands, ankles, and most importantly, heart.

Yandere Aegon makes you take a job in the castle. You become the cupbearer. It's a job that doesn't bring much excitement, unless you count pompous nobles talking through their asses 'excitement'. You make a good amount of coin. Your social status rises faster than a dragon taking to air.

Your own room. A room near Aegon's.

It is as if he purposefully thinned the walls, much to your displeasure. You can hear the moans from whores and Aegon alike during the hours when everyone is given rest. It's an endless torture that slips into your dreams, making them wetter than you've ever dreamt before.

Yandere Aegon has many people thinking it is inappropriate to have a commoner suddenly peak the king's interest so blatantly. You are no longer the dirt on the bottom of the nobility's shoe. You are almost equal, if not greater, due to the protection you are afforded by the ruler.

Rumors aren't needed. They will say their peace to your face. They don't fluff it up with their frivolously sacchariferous words. Those who dare are crude and ruthless.

The next day they'll end up with their heads on pikes outside the castle.

Yandere Aegon wants you as a second spouse. He fucks other whores, but only because he can't have you all day and night. He'll stop after the both of you get married. He knows it's a pipdream. He's the king, though.

Who is going to stop him?

It's not going to be Alicent or Otto.

He's not letting Aemond fucking touch you. Asshole tried to char him once. He got out with multiple scars, but he is able to walk and is still quite a looker. Aemond won't steal you. He'll the gut the fucker before it comes to that.

Yandere Aegon just needs alcohol and you. It's the only two things that're keeping him securely tethered to this world. Your specialty is alcohol. It's a match made in the heavens.

tags: ( @kawaiicoffeedream ) & ( @littybeech )

[same-pic-rick-roll]

Embrace the Rot, by Endless Taverns.

Nurgle from Warhammer 40k is the Chaos god of rot and despair. I find the music darkly compelling.

Hello

Wanna hear a song?

Oh! I love songs! YES I WANNA HEAR THE SONG!!

[augustwinesworld]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭

you didn’t know if you wanted to cut it.

description: the trio gets their hands on ODM gear, a decision that will affect their rest of their lives without them knowing.

pairing: underground! levi x underground! reader

genre: pathetic yearning/ fluff

warning: tooth rotting

notes: the virgin induced christian yearning in this one makes the wait completely worth it.

word count: 4.3 k

extra: moodboard | playlist | ☆:**:. 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐞 .:**:.☆ 

Feel free to #𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞 (◕‿◕✿) *:･ﾟ✧ if you have any scenarios in mind! I might not write everything but I’ll respond to everyone.

series masterlist: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭

If the Underground had one redeeming quality, it was this: its endless maze of abandoned

Silent, shadowed, and forgotten by most—ideal for watching without being seen.

From your vantage point across the street, Ksaver's tavern was alive with noise and chaos.

The glow of lanterns spilled onto the streets, illuminating clusters of drunk Garrison soldiers who lingered outside, laughing too loudly and leaning too heavily on each other.

“You’d think they were on leave,” you muttered, shifting slightly behind the dusty crate that hid you from view.

“They definitely think they are” Furlan replied with a grin, adjusting the straps of his satchel. His gaze flicked toward the warehouse looming just beyond the bar. “A couple more drinks, and they won’t even notice if we waltz in and take what we want.”

“Don’t get cocky. Drunk doesn’t mean blind. If we get caught, there are no second chances.”

The warehouse stood high next to the tavern, though still inconspicuous. A fortress of stone and steel—thick walls with narrow windows barred by iron.

A single lantern above the main entrance cast an eerie glow over the heavy steel door.

If you stop to think about it, so many defenses make the hideout look out of place compared to the surrounding buildings—but to be fair, it's not that weird either.

And section D-4.

The warehouse’s location was no accident. It was close to one of the main access points to the surface, a perfect hub for transporting supplies or weapons.

Its proximity to the tavern provided a convenient excuse for soldiers to loiter nearby, their presence both a deterrent and a cover.

Strategically, the spot was flawless. The surrounding alleys narrowed into natural chokepoints, ideal for defending against an attack or ambush.

But the same features that made it easy to guard also made it predictable.

Once again, you scanned the perimeter, noting the lazy paths of the patrolling guards. Their footsteps irregular, as though they were half-heartedly going through the motions.

Furlan shrugged off Levi’s warning, his grin widening as he gestured toward the soldiers at the bar. “You know, they don’t look all that bright. One distraction, and we’re golden.”

Levi’s eyes narrowed, his voice dropping into that dangerously calm tone he always used before losing his patience. “One mistake, and we’re dead. This isn’t a game, Furlan.”

You stifled a sigh, crouching lower as you scanned the warehouse’s perimeter. A pair of guards moved methodically near the entrance, their lanterns casting faint pools of light. “Relax, Levi,” you said, your voice low but steady. “We’ve got this.”

His piercing gaze snapped to you, cutting through the dim light. “If I had a coin for every time you said that right before things went to hell, we wouldn’t need this job.”

Furlan snickered, nudging Levi’s arm with his elbow. “Lighten up, Captain. You’ll give yourself wrinkles.”

“Keep talking,” Levi muttered, his hand tightening around the hilt of his blade, “and I’ll give you something worse.”

Despite the harsh words, there was a rhythm to this—it was a routine that had carried you through countless close calls.

Still, the stakes felt higher tonight.

The plan was deceptively simple: avoid the guards, slip into the warehouse unnoticed, grab the gear, and get out. No unnecessary risks—but if they spotted you, there would be no retreat. You’d have to fight your way out.

Securing the ODM gear was the top priority, no matter the cost.

Levi crouched beside you, his eyes fixed on the guards patrolling the perimeter. “We move on my signal. Stay close, stay quiet, and don’t lose focus. If they see us, we end it fast—no hesitation.”

“Got it,” Furlan whispered, adjusting the straps on his satchel. “Though I doubt they’re sharp enough to notice anything.”

“They’re drunk, not blind,” Levi muttered, his voice low but edged with warning. “And even if they were, don’t get sloppy. We can’t afford mistakes.”

You stayed silent, your focus locked on the warehouse.

The guards’ paths were sloppy but predictable with patience.

They lingered near the main door longer than necessary, sharing drinks and trading jokes before pacing the perimeter with uneven steps. Their torches cast moving shadows, perfect for slipping through undetected.

Levi moved first, slipping into the dim alley like a shadow. His footsteps were silent as he hugged the wall of a neighboring building, gesturing for you and Furlan to follow.

One at a time, the three of you crossed the narrow street, sticking to the darker corners as you approached the back of the warehouse. The steel door loomed ahead, reinforced and locked tight.

The faint scuff marks near the hinges and chipped paint around the lock told a familiar story: this wasn’t the first time someone had tried to break in.

When you reached the side door, Furlan knelt to pick the lock, his fingers moving deftly over the worn mechanism.

“You sure you’ve got this?” you asked, glancing nervously over your shoulder.

He grinned without looking up. “Relax. It’s not my first dance.”

The lock clicked, and Furlan pushed the door open with a shit-eating grin. “After you,” he said with a mock bow.

Such a moron.

The air inside was thick with the smell of oil and rust, suffocating with very little light.

“There,” Levi said, his voice low as he nodded toward the far end of the room. Different sets of ODM gear hung on racks, their metallic components gleaming faintly.

You moved cautiously, your footsteps muffled by the dust-covered floor. Furlan reached the gear first, his grin widening as he inspected one of the sets. “A little outdated,” he murmured, running his fingers over the mechanisms. “But definitely worth the trip.”

“Take it and go,” Levi ordered, his gaze darting toward the door. “We’re not sticking around.”

You slung one set over your shoulder, the weight pressing heavily against your back as you adjusted the straps. On the other hand, Levi and Furlan grabbed two each just in case.

Just as you turned toward the exit, the sound of muffled voices reached you. 

Your stomach dropped. 

The guards were at the back door.

Levi’s hand shot up, signaling for silence. The three of you froze, your breaths shallow as the voices grew louder.

“They’ll notice the open lock,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Levi’s jaw tightened, his sharp eyes scanning the room. “If they come in, we take them out. Quick and quiet.”

The door creaked open, and two guards stepped inside, their lanterns sweeping across the room. Their boots scuffed against the floor as they muttered to each other.

The creak of the warehouse door sent a chill down your spine. Lantern light swept through the space as two guards stepped inside, their boots crunching faintly on the dusty floor.

“Check the racks,” one of them ordered, his tone clipped. “Captain’ll have our heads if we lose track of anything in here.”

Your heart pounded as the light moved closer to your hiding spot. The narrow gap between the crates was barely enough to conceal the three of you, and the weight of the ODM gear on your back made every shift of your body feel agonizingly loud.

“Wait,” one guard said suddenly, his footsteps halting. “Something’s missing.”

Shit.

Levi’s pointed gaze flicked toward you and Furlan, his fingers already tightening around the hilt of his blade. 

The second guard stepped up to the racks, running his hand over the empty hooks where the gear had been. “What the hell…? It was here yesterday.”

Furlan’s grip on the strap of his satchel tightened. “They’re gonna figure it out,” he whispered, barely audible.

Levi’s eyes narrowed. “On my mark,” he murmured, his voice a thread of steel.

The first guard turned, his lantern swinging dangerously close to the crates. “Check the other side of the room. Maybe someone moved it.”

Levi moved before the guard could take another step. Silent as a shadow, he emerged from the gap and closed the distance in an instant. The flash of his blade was quick, precise—a clean strike that dropped the first guard before he could make a sound.

The second guard spun, his eyes wide with shock. “Hey! What—”

His shout was cut short as you lunged forward, your hands already on the haft of the short blade tucked into your harness. The guard’s lantern fell, clattering to the ground as he stumbled back, your blade slicing through his defenses.

Furlan stepped out next, grabbing the fallen lantern and snuffing its flame before the light could draw attention from outside. “Subtle,” he muttered, his grin strained but intact.

“Clear,” Levi said, his voice low as he scanned the room. He crouched to check the fallen guards, his movements quick and efficient. “We need to move. Now.”

You nodded, adjusting the weight of the gear on your back. The warehouse felt heavier with silence now, the echoes of your scuffle fading into the distance.

“Think anyone heard that?” Furlan asked, his tone almost casual as he slung his gear over one shoulder.

Levi didn’t answer, his focus already on the exit. He motioned for you to follow, his movements still sharp and deliberate.

The three of you slipped out the side door, sticking to the shadows as you retraced your path through the narrow alleys. Every sound seemed amplified—the scrape of your boots against the stone, the distant hum of voices from Ksaver’s tavern.

As you reached the edge of the alley, Levi raised a hand, signaling for a halt. He peeked around the corner, his grey eyes scanning the street ahead.

“All clear,” he said finally, stepping forward.

Relief flooded through you, though it was short-lived. The weight of the gear pressed heavily against your back, a constant reminder of what you’d risked—and what you’d gained.

By the time you reached the safety of your hideout, the adrenaline had begun to wear off, leaving your limbs heavy and your mind buzzing with exhaustion.

“Well,” Furlan said, dropping his gear onto the table with a thud. “That was fun.”

Levi shot him a glare, his voice cold. “You call that fun? If you hadn’t been so loud earlier—”

“Relax,” Furlan interrupted, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “We got what we came for, didn’t we?”

You sat down heavily, the stolen gear still strapped to your back. Despite the tension, a small smile tugged at your lips. “We’re alive. That counts for something.”

"Barely."

Levi didn’t respond immediately, his gaze lingering on the gear. Finally, he nodded, his expression softening just slightly. “This was just the start. Next time, there won’t be room for mistakes.”

The abandoned factory near the hideout became your training ground.

It was vast and empty, the towering beams and rusted catwalks providing the perfect place to test the ODM gear without drawing attention.

Levi, annoyingly so, took to it immediately—balanced, studious, and calculated.

The same as always.

Watching him soar through the air, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy.

Furlan stood below, arms crossed, grinning up at you as you adjusted the straps of your harness. “Sure you don’t want to let the expert go first?”

You snorted, securing the final strap across your chest. “Pretty sure we’re both equally clueless about this.”

“Speak for yourself,” he replied, stepping back as you approached the edge of the platform. “I’ve been preparing for this my whole life. Born to fly, you know.”

Levi, perched on a beam several feet above, didn’t bother looking down. “Born to crash, maybe.”

Furlan gasped dramatically. “Was that a joke? From Levi? Someone mark this moment in history.”

“Keep running your mouth, and I’ll make sure you’re the first to ‘fly,’” Levi muttered, tightening his grip on his gear. His gaze flicked to you briefly, as if checking to ensure you hadn’t strapped something wrong.

The mechanisms in your gear hissed softly as you tested the triggers, the faint resistance sending a thrill of anticipation through your body. You took a deep breath, your fingers steady despite the rush of nerves in your chest.

“Alright,” you said, stepping closer to the edge. “Let’s see what this thing can do.”

The grapples shot out with a loud metallic hiss, embedding themselves into a beam high above. Gas hissed from the canisters on your back, and suddenly, you were airborne.

The initial jolt nearly threw you off balance, the weightless sensation both exhilarating and terrifying.

Air rushed past your face as the world blurred around you, beams and scaffolding flashing by in streaks of rusted metal.

You adjusted the tension, the pull of the cables propelling you forward in a shaky arc.

Then you realized your trajectory was off—badly off. You were heading straight for a beam.

“Shit,” you muttered, trying to adjust the line, but your inexperience betrayed you. The controls felt clunky, unresponsive. You braced for impact, your heart hammering.

The collision never came. Instead, a harsh tug yanked you sideways, and suddenly, Levi was there, his arm locked around your waist as he propelled you both toward a safer landing.

You hit the platform with a stumble, Levi steadying you as you regained your footing. His grip was firm, his breath steady despite the chaos of the moment.

“Careful,” he said, his tone clipped but quieter than usual.

You looked up at him, your chest still heaving from the adrenaline. His face was close—too close—and for a moment, all you could do was blink at him. “Thanks,” you managed, your voice barely above a whisper. “I had it under control.”

Levi raised an eyebrow, his expression a mix of disbelief and mild irritation. “Right. That’s why you were about to introduce your face to a steel beam.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the way his gaze lingered on yours made the words falter. There was something unreadable in his expression, an intensity that made your stomach twist in a way that had nothing to do with the gear strapped to your back.

“Uh… you can let go now,” you said, your voice higher than you’d intended.

Levi blinked, as if realizing for the first time that he was still holding you. He stepped back quickly, his arms dropping to his sides with a stiffness that bordered on awkward. “You’re lucky I was watching,” he muttered, looking away.

“Always am,” you shot back without thinking, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

The silence that followed was loud.

Too loud,

Fuck.

Furlan’s laughter cut through it, his voice echoing from below. “Oh, that was smooth. I’ll give you that one.”

You turned, glaring down at him. “Shut up, Furlan.”

Levi cleared his throat, adjusting the straps of his gear. His expression was unreadable again, though a faint pink tint dusted the tips of his ears. “Get back up there,” he said flatly, nodding toward the scaffolding. “You’re not done until you stop flying like a drunk bird.”

The next few days blurred into a grueling routine. Each of you took turns practicing with the gear, alternating between bursts of progress and painful missteps. Furlan’s attempts often ended in chaos—his grapples tangling in beams, or his launches sending him spinning uncontrollably.

“Maybe this thing just doesn’t like me,” he muttered after his third crash into a stack of crates.

Levi, of course, took to the gear with ease. His movements were perfect: deliberate and efficient, each arc and turn executed with precision. Watching him was equal parts inspiring and frustrating—how did he make it look so easy?

One afternoon, after another exhausting round of practice, you sat on a ledge adjusting your gear. The straps were digging into your shoulders, the weight feeling heavier after hours of trial and error.

“You’re overthinking it,” Levi said, his voice cutting through your thoughts.

You glanced up at him, frowning. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He stepped closer, crouching beside you as he gestured toward the triggers in your hands. “You’re forcing the movement. The gear’s designed to work with your body, not against it. You’re trying too hard to control it.”

His voice was calm, measured, but the proximity made it impossible to focus. His fingers brushed against yours as he adjusted your grip, the warmth of his touch sending a jolt through you.

“Relax your wrist,” he said, his tone softer now. “Let the momentum carry you.”

You swallowed hard, nodding as you tried to ignore the way your heart had started pounding. “Got it.”

Levi stepped back, his arms crossing as he watched you with that same intense focus. “Try again.”

You inhaled deeply, gripping the triggers as you launched upward. This time, the motion felt smoother, more natural. The air whipped past your face, and when you landed on the next platform, you couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face.

“Better,” Levi called, his voice carrying easily across the factory.

You turned back to him, your chest tightening at the faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. It was subtle, barely there, but enough to leave you feeling unsteady all over again.

Furlan’s voice echoed from below. “Alright, lovebirds, break it up! Some of us are trying to survive down here!”

You rolled your eyes, heat rushing to your cheeks as you shouted back, “Shut up, Furlan!”

Levi didn’t respond, but the small smirk that flickered across his face was enough to make you forget your embarrassment—if only for a moment.

That evening, Furlan announced he was done for the day, dramatically clutching his lower back as he slumped onto a crate. “I think the gear hates me,” he said, shaking his head. “And honestly, I’m starting to hate it back. I’ll see you two tomorrow.”

Levi barely glanced at him. “Good. You crashing into things is getting annoying.”

Furlan chuckled as he headed for the exit, leaving you and Levi alone in the cavernous space of the factory. The air was cooler now, the sounds quieter as the faint hum of distant life settled into an almost eerie calm.

It was just you and Levi now, the dim light from the fractured windows casting long shadows over the beams and scaffolding.

You tightened the straps on your harness, pretending the silence wasn’t getting to you. “I’m going again,” you said, breaking the quiet.

“Not like that,” Levi’s voice cut in, sharp but softer than usual.

You turned to him, frowning. “What do you mean?”

He didn’t answer immediately, his gaze fixed on you like he was sizing you up—not in the critical way he usually did, but as if deciding whether to elaborate. He stepped closer, his movements deliberate, and gestured to your harness. “Your straps. They’re too loose.”

You hesitated, glancing down at them. “They feel fine to me.”

“They’re not.” 

Levi was already in front of you, his hands reaching for the straps before you could protest. The adjustment was quick, precise, and practical—his gloved fingers deftly tightening the leather across your collarbone with a firm but careful touch.

It should’ve been nothing, and yet you felt it everywhere. The warmth of his hand through the glove, the way he was so close you could feel his presence like a weight pressing against you. Your breath hitched despite yourself, and you fought the urge to look at him.

But you couldn’t help it. Your gaze flicked upward, catching him in a moment of complete focus. His expression was neutral, eyes locked on the harness, his attention so sharp it felt unfairly indifferent—like you weren’t standing right there, hyper-aware of every small motion he made.

“There,” he said, stepping back slightly. His voice was calm and clipped, efficient as always, but there was a flicker of something—hesitation?—in the way his gaze lingered on your face before dropping back to the straps.

You nodded, your voice quieter than intended. “Thanks.”

But instead of stepping away fully, Levi’s eyes shifted downward, landing on the straps at your waist and thighs.

His jaw tightened for half a second, his hand hovering as though he might reach for them. The urge was fleeting but sharp, a thought that passed too quickly to stop but lingered just long enough to make him tense.

He dropped his hand, straightening and stepping back with a slight shake of his head, which was now beet red. “The lower straps are loose too,” he muttered, his tone soft but edged with something he couldn’t quite hide. “Fix them before you go again.”

Your pulse quickened as you followed his line of sight, fumbling with the straps around your waist, your fingers clumsy against the worn leather. His words were practical, but the air between you felt anything but.

“Right,” you murmured, tightening the buckles and avoiding his gaze.

Levi crossed his arms, his eyes flicking back up to your face once you were finished, like he was assessing your work. “Next time, check everything,” he said, his voice steadier now, though the faint tension in his jaw remained.

You nodded again, swallowing hard. “Got it,” the silence stretched, thick and heavy with things you didn’t know how to name. Your face grew hot as you tried to come up with something to say—”um, thanks.”

You adjusted your stance, focusing on the triggers in your hands, trying to shake the weight of his attention. But it was impossible to ignore the way his presence settled over you, like an anchor you couldn’t pull free of.

It was nothing, and yet it wasn’t. You hated how aware you were of him, how he—

“Try it now,” he said, his voice softer this time.

You nodded again, turning toward the edge of the platform with shaky hands.

The grapples hissed as they shot out, embedding themselves into the beams high above. Gas propelled you forward, and for a moment, everything else fell away—the nerves, the tension, the weight of his eyes on you.

But when you landed, breathless and steady, it was all there again.

“Better,” he said, stepping forward. His approval was quiet, almost reluctant, like he didn’t want to give too much away.

You forced a small smile, trying not to let the words hit harder than they should. “Guess the straps really were the problem.”

His eyes lingered on yours for a moment, unreadable. “It wasn’t just the straps,” he said eventually, his voice quieter now. “You’re starting to trust the gear. That’s why it worked.”

You nodded, unsure of what to say. The silence stretched between you, not awkward but heavy, like there were too many things left unsaid.

“I’ll go again,” you said finally, taking a step back.

But Levi didn’t move.

“Wait,” he said, the word soft but firm enough to make you pause.

You turned to look at him, your pulse jumping when you saw the way his expression had shifted—something about the edges of his usual stoicism softened, just slightly. It made him look almost unsure, which was wrong in so many ways. Levi wasn’t supposed to look unsure.

“You’re still forcing it,” he said after a moment, his voice lower now, almost hesitant.

You frowned. “Forcing what?”

He sighed, stepping closer again. His hands reached for yours, adjusting your grip on the triggers like it was the most natural thing in the world.

But it wasn’t—not for you, anyway. His gloves were worn and rough, the touch fleeting and practical, yet it sent a warmth curling through you that made your chest ache.

“You’re thinking too much,” he murmured, his voice so quiet you almost missed it. “The gear works with you. Stop fighting it.”

“I’m not—” you started to argue, but his gaze stopped you short.

He was close now, closer than he needed to be, and the intensity in his eyes was almost too much.

You could feel his breath, steady and even despite the distance you’d just flown, and it made you horribly aware of how uneven yours was in comparison.

“Try again,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak, and turned back to the edge of the platform. Your fingers tightened around the triggers, your grip firmer now but more deliberate, and you launched upward.

This time, the motion felt different. Easier. Smoother. The rush of air filled your lungs, and for a moment, you felt weightless in a way that didn’t terrify you. When you landed, it was with a steadiness that surprised even you.

You looked back at him, your chest still heaving. He was standing exactly where you’d left him, his arms crossed, his gaze sharpened but softer than usual.

“Better,” he said again, his tone quiet but unmistakably sure.

You smiled, though it felt too vulnerable, too honest. “Thanks.”

He nodded, but the way his eyes lingered made your stomach twist again. You thought about saying something—anything to cut through the heaviness between you—but before you could, he turned away.

“Don’t overthink it next time,” he said, his voice back to its usual clipped tone. But as he adjusted the straps on his gear, you caught the faintest trace of pink at the tips of his ears.

You swallowed back a laugh—soft and pathetic and a little bitter—and turned to reset your stance.

Levi didn’t look at you again, but his presence felt impossibly heavy. It was maddening, this quiet pull between you, like a thread you didn’t know how to cut.

You didn’t know if you wanted to cut it.

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