#forgot her companion was sharp

[runeberry]

also also logged into eso for the first time in months and I forgot scylla is halfway in love with a lizard

[twi-liight]

Petty Jealousy ❣

Tav's companions cannot fathom them potentially having other friends. ❥ Astarion/reader, Astarion/Tav, but also Companions/reader. I'm a Tavrem supremacist. ❥ Contains my own personal headcanon for why the companions call them "Tav" instead of their first name, which is justification for me loopholing the eternal problem of xreader writers having to wince when they use "F/N" or "Y/N". ❥ They/them pronouns for Tav/reader!

“Look,” Astarion hisses, “look at that!” 

5 pairs of eyes land on the offender of the night (which, to their surprise, isn’t Astarion) who conversed pleasantly with the leader of their party. A half-elf with a sharp jaw, proud brow, and mirthful eyes looks extraordinarily ordinary compared to their merry band of freaks. 

“Who is that, again?” Shadowheart asks absently. “Tav suggested I rest for today instead of mapping out the Underdark with the party, and the next thing I know, they’ve brought back another little companion.” 

Astarion’s jaw twitches. He snaps out, “Companion or complication?”

Gale crosses his arms, shrugging, used to Astarion’s temper running hot then cold. “His name is Nilmorn - a luthier. Tav took an interest in his wares. He makes a living selling stringed instruments in the Underdark. Strange place to sell such things.” 

Ugh. Astarion sighs, shaking his head. Leave it to Gale to traipse over the obvious. A sharpened mind like his would surely know that this Nilmorn has no place here, if not to be a bloodbag for him to slurp on. Beyond that, what use does this pretty boy have? Nilmorn sells wares that are utterly useless to them. He’s quite boring and one-dimensional, too, a character that strays too much into the side of “moral good” for Astarion to tolerate. 

 “Yes, yes, Gale, but have you considered how strange it is that he has invited himself to our camp?” Astarion flares out his hand towards the wizard, as if handing him common sense on his palm. 

“I,” Gale begins, blinking his wet, beautiful brown eyes at Astarion, “invited myself to this journey, Astarion. I am quite hurt you forgot. I thought what we had was special!” 

“Yes, but you’re weird!” Astarion exclaims. “You’re a freak with a bomb in your body because of your situationship with Mystra! That,” Astarion points an accusatory finger in the direction of Nilmorn, in which 5 pairs of eyes look at him again, “is someone so unbelievably normal he doesn’t even have any, any…” He gestures, articulates with his hands to placate his words. 

“No dubious motives?” Shadowheart offers, a smirk coyly playing on her lips. 

“No complicated backstory?” Wyll pipes in. Astarion’s eyes flicker to him, and irritation seeps into his skin when he finds Wyll smiling wryly, as if the warlock is in on some joke he is not picking up on. “No, I don’t know, god that has let him down in some way, shape, or form?” 

“Certainly no skills for fighting.” Lae’zel, thank the gods for Lae’zel. Her smooth voice hides none of her displeasure, and those sharp, slitted eyes stare across the fire to dig daggers into Nilmorn’s back. “Useless. We have no need for string-ed instruments. Let Tav pick one, and send this half-elf on his way.” 

Yes. Yes. Astarion nods eagerly.

“Hmmm. I almost envy his mundaneity,” Karlach adds,  “but I mean, he’s not that bad, Astari. Man’s just trying to make the world a better place, one string at a time.” 

Astarion almost throws up. He looks to the other companions helplessly. “Darlings. Please tell me you are not going to let Karlach get away with saying something so putridly motivational.” 

Karlach tosses her head back and cackles, much to Astarion's chagrin.

“Something is obviously bothering you,” Shadowheart states bluntly. Her green eyes watch his expression carefully in the firelight; she finds something there, but does not say it outright. With an exhale through her nose, as if it is painful for her to attempt a conversation with him, Shadowheart decides to throw him a bone: “Are you jealous?” 

He does not catch the bone. The bone slams right into his head as he stares at Shadowheart, slack-jawed and scandalized. Him? Jealous? “You must be joking.”

“Aw,” Shadowheart croons, another one of her insufferable smirks toying on her lips, “you are.” 

If he had mindflayer powers beyond reading her reprehensible surface-level thoughts, he would make Shadowheart’s head explode. Or something. 

He must establish his dignity in the group once more. He cannot handle more of this, especially not with Wyll grinning so wide, not self-aware enough that if he did not have a sexy demon controlling his life because he didn’t read the terms of conditions of a motherfucking contract, Astarion would bully him more.

“That is not the point here. Look,” he says. “I am just saying that our Tav is desirable in every way. Physically, we can all agree that Tav is attractive. Yes?” 

Yes. They all nod their heads. 

“Tav is a little strange, but they are our leader, and they got us this far somehow. Who knew caring about other people could go a long way.” 

Yes. They all nod their heads, except Wyll and Karlach, who look amongst the group with sheer disappointment on their faces. “Gods,” Karlach groans into her hand, “we– we need to unpack that later, gang. That’s just really sad.” 

“Lastly, Tav is strong. Strong enough to split apart the mountains and the sky, I imagine.” Strong enough to bury Cazador into the ground, hopefully. “Strong enough to face a god unwaveringly. Strong enough to persevere. Strong enough to be kind, despite everything. Despite what they think, they are charismatic, and they are the entire package. The only person who does not know of their value is Tav themselves.” 

They watch Tav’s lips quirk into a smile as Nilmorn holds a lyre out for them upon his smooth hands. Smooth, no sign of scars, no sign of complications. Just so unbearably mundane. Unbearably good. Unbearably kind. 

Unbearably unaware of their true nature.

Nilmorn does not know why they nicknamed them Tav, despite their name being [F/N]. Their unstoppable quench to loot everything and anything set back their timeline by weeks, no doubt. Reaching into barrels, reaching into the pockets of bandits, reaching into damn silk cocoons, reaching into whatever their curious little hands can salvage. It annoyed Astarion at first, but then Tav would find all of these weapons and armors and foods and coins and books. Normalcies and luxuries that made camp life feel less of a drab and more exciting. 

The gleaming, golden dagger at his side? They found it. The boots, the armor, the enchanted rings and necklaces they either found, bartered, or killed for their companions. Thus - Tav, short for tavara, the word meaning wares and merchandise; a clever little nickname Gale came up for their leader who is too good for all of them combined. 

“Any other party could whisk them away, you know,” Astarion says. “Tav could find a party of good, decent people, unlike any of us, without the mess and complication and hurt we cause them, and leave. Remember, my dears. It is not us who is irreplaceable. It is Tav.” 

How long would Tav tolerate him? Not long, he thinks. Long enough until he has expended his use for them, surely, but not forever. That's why anyone who wants Tav beyond sex or strength is a threat. If he hadn’t seduced his way into their heart, he wouldn’t be here where he stands, with a group of people who make him feel a little less alone. 

No doubt he would be in a cage on the back of a covered wagon that belongs to that disgusting gyr, Gandrel, his chain to Cazador growing shorter and shorter.

Silence. Tense and still. They watch as Tav laughs lightly, eyes alighting with amusement as Nilmorn cracks another joke. 

"You should meet my other companions," they hear Nilmorn offer, "I just know they would love to have you."

Revelation slams into each and every one of them like a magic missile.

“He’s not that funny,” Shadowheart mutters. She bends down, hands gripping tightly around the handle of her mace. “I don’t know why they are laughing that hard.”

“He can try to leave with his head on his shoulders,” snarls Lae’zel, “just say the word, Astarion.” 

Excellent. 

“What-” Wyll turns to Gale and Karlach. “We should stop them, shouldn’t we? There are no implications of this man trying to steal Tav away, he's just being nice, you worthless cunts! This is not fair to him!” 

“We’re in the Underdark, aren’t we? Super deep. Doubt anyone who cares for him will come looking for him.” 

“Karlach!” 

“Astute observation! To make this all a little easier on us, I can most certainly put this man to sleep.” 

“Gale?!” 

“Go on, Lae’zel,” Astarion grins wickedly, “attack!”

“Oh, hells,” Wyll stumbles back, then turns quickly to the other direction towards Halsin. “Halsin! Halsin - they’re trying to murder someone again!” 

❥ Additional links: kofi | ao3

[madwomansapologist]

Hi, are you still looking for Baldur's Gate 3 requests? Could you please write something about the main BG3 Companions (+ our boi Halsin) with a Tav/reader who's really short and adorable and just an absolute sweetheart but is horrifyingly powerful in their lore? Like NPCs who know about them back away in fear kinda thing. Maybe Tav can even transform into some sort of battle form where they're like 9 feet tall (as opposed to their usual height of like 4' 10") and can absolutely kick ass on the battlefield?

Thanks so much, I hope you have a wonderful day! Take care!

bg3 companions with a adorably powerful tav

Navigation | More Weirdos | AO3

synopsis: Who could imagine such a sweet thing as you had the reputation of a hero?

warnings: companions (lae'zel, shadowheart, astarion, gale dekarios, wyll ravengard, karlach, halsin, jaheira) x tav. fluff.

note: thank you for your request! oh gods how i missed writing headcanons. i hope you like this, have a wonderful day!

Lae'zel

Lae'zel knew your shared condition had a cure, and was willing to put herself in danger by taking the entire party with her to the nearest crèche. That being said, how couldn't she judge you?

You were too easy on everyone. Making promises you clearly shouldn't, taking them seriously despite her best efforts to put some sense in your head. The party was supposed to only stop walking when surrounded by githyankis, but no burdened tiefling or hurt animal escaped your careful gaze.

That you knew how to fight surprised her, but to see fear and admiration in the eyes of civillians... that made Lae'zel pay more attention to you. You had a reputation. Not as a writer, bard or patron. You're know for striking down your enemies.

Fighting at the goblin's camp, there were so many oponents even Lae'zel didn't knew if it would be her last fight. You saw it too, so you made sure to use everything you had to win. Even if you would rather not turn into an eldritch creature.

She got enchanted by your battle form. Steel and iron where nothing against the pure strenght of your skin. Whatever crossed your path that day suffered at your hands.

That was the first time Lae'zel got happy for being wrong about someone.

"Perhaps I've judged you too hard. You are fierce, foracious, as sharp as my sword and as brave as a red dragon. Keep on surprising me and a istik you'll be no more."

Shadowheart

Shadowheart couldn't care less about the tieflings and their problems, but it was endearing to watch you wandering throught the Coast in an attempt to ensure their safety. It was a sight she couldn't expect to observe in this journey, not when considering the worm twitching behind her eye and the artifact messing with their dreams.

Still, you could shut down her biggest fears with ease. While she tried to remain quiet, you were full of kind words to share with whoever was near. You care for all beings, great and small, and Shadowheart can respect that. A person without a truth to follow is empty, but one with a mission turns into so much more than just a walking corpse.

She focused on protecting you during fights. Always giving you some sort of magic shield, casting sanctuary, begging you to drink potions and elixirs that would keep you safe.

Goblins attacked, and for a second everyone was too surprised to react properly. Except by you. You were quick to defend your party, to fight for them, and won a fight no one was preparad to.

Shadowheart decided not to underestimate you again. Kind words, gentle actions, caring gaze: she was so focused on her own view about you that forgot to pay attention to the way everyone else saw you.

You're powerful. The kinda of powerful that their party had to be grateful that you were fighting besides them.

When you revealed your beast form to her, Shadowheart already knew you were a sight to behold.

"You are full of surprises, aren't you? Good. I like how you keep me on my toes, love."

Astarion

In theory, he should've been delighted with your personality. You were the perfect prey. A leader so sweet, he could change your mind at his will and you wouldn't even noticed. Others respect you. Astarion would be safe and sound.

But Astarion isn't capable of forgetting how easily you fought back when he tried to fool you. How he didn't even saw you moving, and was alone on the floor before he could understand what had hit him.

Instead of a person, you were a walking question mark. How can you be so sickenly adorable, and still so ready to strike down your enemies? Were did the sweet half of you finished and the other one started?

People know you. He saw respect in druid's eyes, fear when goblins heard your name. Halsin knew about you. And so did Minthara.

Few are able to live up to their reputation, but you're one of those. So strong, so brave, but your kindness wasn't ignored by him. It was as if in your head the whole world deserved your kindness, until it did no more. Only then you react.

Astarion don't know what to think about it.

When you attacked as a beast, tearing spiders apart as if they were a piece of meat in your plate, Astarion laughed until his belly ache.

How could be so right and so wrong about someone?

"Don't mind me, darling. I'm just rejoicing at the sight of your bloody hands. Come here. Let me taste your heroic mess."

Gale Dekarios

Gale learned two things about you when you pulled him out of stone: you were kind, and so damn strong.

You were adorable. A perfect equation between what people must do in order to survive and what they must do in order to live well. He can't see you not being surrounded by friends and admirers, all enchanted by your sweet words and rightful attacks.

He feared the party's reaction to the Orb, but a part of him knew you would let him stay. He never imagined you would give him magic artifacts without a second question, or that you would hug him after he told you his whole story.

You didn't let him go. Neither did Gale.

To say he was willing to agree with whatever you did was to say his heart beats. It was only natural. Maybe you both differ on the path you want to take, but the destination is usually the same.

When he saw you feral, body changing to give space to something else, Gale wondered if he was one of those enchanted people surrounding you. If he wasn't fighting for his life, Gale would gadly gaze upon you for the rest of the day.

"Disgusted? I was unable to look away from you! You are the one I love, no claws or tentacles will ever change that. Must I add, my love, your light remains strong in whatever form you decide to use."

Wyll Ravengard

To say the least, he's a fan. Oh, how lovely are the tales of your adventures through Faêrun. He remember arguing with bards about the accuracy of their versions and the reason behind their choice of words. You were what a hero must aim to.

How long were the nights he spend wandering after he was casted out of Baldur's Gate. Lonely nights, but never silent. Wyll's mind fought against itself. He lost everything to help and protect others. Sometimes he worried if he had lost himself too.

Your tales weren't his salvation. None of them shut down those voices that insisted on telling him about the mistakes he made, neither did them shut Mizora. But they inspired him. If you did all those things, remained human even as a beast, he could survive a talkative cambion. Wyll Ravengard can defeat her by staying loyal to himself.

Wyll didn't had to hear your name to know you were fighting next to him, defending the grove against goblins and worgs. He saw enough drawings of you to recognize you from miles afar. When you asked him to be a member of your party, Wyll felt as if a million fireworks exploded inside his chest at the same time.

He did felt anger and pain because of the tadpole, but never fear. Fighting beside you, Wyll knew he didn't had to fear for his future. And after seeing how willing you were to argue with multiple cambions, he started to have hope.

"I used to read about legends, myths of bravery and rightousness. Some see it as just tales for the naive. Thank you, my heart. For proving them wrong time after time."

Karlach

She's the only one with an excuse for not knowing who you are. When strangers call you by your entire name, when companions use your epithet: Karlach just never thought about it. She ignored it, paying no mind to others.

But Karlach did knew you were a absolute sweetheart. What you didn't had of height you compensate with a gigantic personality. For her, the way you behaved was simply alluring.

While many prefer to think the world is a bad place and no one living there can chose to be or do better, you are just another reason for her to know that it's bullshit. Because Karlach is good, despise it all. And Wyll. And you.

And Minsc!!!

You had a fire on you whenever you had to fight. She didn't need to know your story to see how great you can be. Some people just have that. She don't know if that fire is born or forged, but some people just have it.

To see you as a beast made her the most happy woman in Faêrun. She got speechless, all she could do was laugh and run around to have a better view of you ending the Steel Watch.

"You got 'em, soldier! Go on, bite his arm off! You see that monster over there? The one with glowing eyes. That's the love of my fucking life."

Halsin

He saw you before. Druids and harpist fought against sharrans, and you were one of the heroes who joined their cause. At that time Halsin didn't talked to you, but he knew you fought until the very end and stayed to help with the infirm.

When you rescued him, Halsin knew you remembered him too. There was some understanding between you both, a companionship that only those who foght together can share.

He knew you were a hero, one of those who fight wars that don't affect them because someone needs too, but your personality was a good surprise. Halsin haven't imagined you so easy going. Always offering smiles, light jokes, being clumsy without a care when danger was far away.

After the battle against sharrans, he thought those who refered to you as a monster were trying to make others understand how eficient you were. It surprised him to see they were just being honest.

Nothing would stop Halsin from turning into a bear and joining you.

"In this damned city, you are a beacon of hope. The Oak Father graced us with your light. From your fiece strikes to your honey soaked words... I am lucky to live at the same time as you, my love."

Jaheira

As a fellow adventurer, it surprised Jaheira that you weren't already tired. You both lived for so long, did so much, it would be only natural for you to give a pause on your endless smiles and envied patience. She was wrong, but that wasn't a bad thing.

Jaheira knew how this life can steal things from you. Peace feels like a threat, to stop make you feel like a prey, to laugh makes you wonder if it will be the last time. Is impossible to be a hero without losing. She's glad you didn't lose yourself in your path.

There was an unspoken pact between you both. The stories, the songs, the faux memories. So many think to know everything about you two. Sometimes Jaheira will read you a book you're in when she knows it's a shameless lie, and you sing her songs about adventures she did not lived.

Your laugh could make her feel younger. Alive. You both were so differents, but knew each other in a way few could.

Whenever you chose to strike as a monster, she would join you as a myrmidon and had her fun. You both deserve it.

"I did well not underestimating you, cub. It is impossible not to laugh at those who can't see how your bright smile hides sharp fangs. As pretty as a diamond, and as fierce too."

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

BALDUR’S GATE 3 TAGLIST: @citrusbunnies

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

[maple-the-awesome]

The Chain Meets Your Baby || 1/2

Part 2 ||

Pairing: Hyrule, Time, Wild, Four x Reader

Requested by @kieradumpzz081927: I hope your request are open(or if ur free for requests), so i saw ur LU oneshots about the one that is called ' He becames a dad ' or smth. So, why not that he would introduce his kid(s) to the chain? That ones going to be interesting Interesting indeed 😈Now, I have my own set of headcannons for what order the Chain becomes dads in, but regardless of their own experience, I'm sure the Links would all subject the new dad to lots of support and teasing. Here you go 💜 Warning: Some mature jokes here and there. Nothing major, but gotta give the new dad a little hell, right? ¯_(ツ)_/¯

Zelda Masterlist 🤍Fandom Masterlist

The last thing Hyrule was expecting to encounter during his village visit was his old traveling companions, the other heroes of courage. Then again, life has been full of surprises lately and it wasn't like he didn't already know that the portals between their worlds are still active. It was only a matter of time before their paths crossed again and honestly, it couldn't have aligned more perfectly.

Happy to see the rest of the Chain again, Hyrule takes the liberty of inviting them back to his home so that they can properly catch up and not be the subject of so many judgment stares from villagers. Throughout the short trip there, the group’s laughter is vibrant as they detail accounts from their recent adventures, soon turning it into a friendly competition of who has the craziest stories. 

This conversation stays well alive all the way from their first steps outside of the village gates to the second Hyrule opens the door to his house, at which point the spirited teasing immediately dies off into a stunned silence.

“Oh! Hello again!” You’re just as pleasantly surprised to see the boys as your boyfriend had been, your smile more than welcoming as you turn around to greet them, yet they’re less focused on you and more so on the small infant you cradle in your arms.

“...I think the Traveler wins,” Wild mumbles, his disbelief shared amongst the rest of the group who merely nod distractedly. 

“Right! I forgot to mention -” Hyrule excitedly hurries to your side before turning to his friends with a thrilled smile, “- This is our daughter, Hope.”

“You just casually forgot to mention you have a kid now…?” Legend narrows his eyes while pointing to the kid in question. He should probably be more annoyed with Hyrule’s tendency of always skipping over important details, but honestly he’s just too shocked to process it right this second.

“Well, she’s only about a month old. Being a dad now takes some getting used to,” Hyrule defends, rubbing the back of his neck timidly, but when you pass your daughter over to him, he shows practice in the way he gently holds her securely to himself before approaching the boys to properly show her off.

Despite their surprise, they’re eager to crowd around him, each wanting to get a good look to ensure this isn’t some clever joke you’re both pulling on them. Fluffy head of dark wavy hair…A little button nose…Sharp pointed ears…Yep, this baby must be yours. She looks exactly as one would imagine the product of Hyrule’s sex life to look like…

“...Geeze. She’s adorable,” Warrior awes, practically leaning over Legend who elbows him back with a glare.

“Isn’t she?” You preen.

“She’s strong, too,” The Vet acknowledges with an unamused pout. He had made the mistake of holding a finger out to the baby only for her to grasp it in an unwavering grip. His attempts at pulling away are fruitless, not that he’s actually trying that hard. Maybe he even likes the feeling of his heart melting just a bit.

“Congratulations. You two must be very proud,” Time praises kindly, having already felt the joy that comes with being a parent himself. He can recognize it in the way Hyrule and you affectionately watch your giggling baby with a pleasant glow surrounding you both.

“We very much are…”

Muffled commotion outside alerts you to the fact that you have visitors long before they stumble into your home, not even bothering to knock as their excitement gets the better of them. Now, any other day, your husband would be quick to scold such ill-mannered behavior, but fortunately for your guests, he's in far too good of a mood to let it be soured.

So, instead of acknowledging the Chain’s less than graceful entrance, Time immediately rises to his feet with a proud hand left upon your shoulder, "Everyone, we'd like you to meet Saria and Mallory."

The young heroes are in awe as they crowd around the bed just to get a look at the small bundles held within your arms. Sure, they've seen babies before, but these are Time's babies. For many of them, the complicated concept of love alone had once seemed out of reach for any hero of courage, yet here the Old Man is, hitched to a lovely wife and now the lucky father of two adorable daughters. It's an amazing accomplishment, really; one that has the entire Chain feeling happy for him.

"They're so little," Hyrule whispers, scared to speak any louder out of fear he'll accidently wake them.

"They inherited their dad's nose, poor things," Warrior jests, throwing a smirk Time's way.

"They'll grow into them," Rather than take it personally, he chuckles while carefully taking one of the girls from you. Despite having only become a father a few hours ago, he's already a natural at handling them. Ever so gently - as if handling the thinnest of glass - he cradles his daughter to his chest and fixes the tiny hand-sewn blanket around her; a gift from her godmother, Malon, of course.

"You'll have your hands full with twins," Four remarks prudently.

You sigh at the thought, your head thrown back against your pillow, "Ugh, we know…”

Although you’re visibly tired after having undergone hours of stressful labor, you still look upon the baby in your arms with nothing short of pure admiration, clearly having no actual regrets towards having either of them. In your eyes, twins just mean all the more love to give.

"Nothing we can't handle," Time promises before getting a mischievous glimmer in his eye while casually extending his sleeping baby out to Twilight, "This one is Mallory, by the way -"

"- W-Wait -!" The Rancher is immediately caught off guard by it, yet his objections are ignored. Time drops the baby into his arms anyway, practically forcing Twilight to take her, not that he truly minds. A natural around children himself, it takes him only a few seconds to adjust the baby comfortably in his hold.

Blind to the other boys who hover around his shoulders, Twilight's eyes are locked in amazement upon the tiny bean who scrunches her nose and whimpers quietly before soon settling down…To think, this small infant no more than a few hours old is a relative of his. He can't help but wonder how closely related they are. How many generations between them? Three? Two? Maybe even just one? It's a strange thought to consider...but also a very comforting one, too.

"...She's a real beauty, isn't she?" Time asks softly with a strong pat to Twilight's back. The only reply he gets is a wordless nod and whimper as the teary eyed Rancher sniffles.

What kind of horrors do they need to prepare themselves for? That's the question that rings through every hero's head as they approach Wild's home. They're concern only grows when - as if sensing them - the Champion suddenly appears in his open doorway with an ear-to-ear grin greeting them...Not the most comforting sight seeing as they've come all this way under his vague request.

A letter had been sent to each of them only giving the minor hint that there’s a certain 'surprise' he can't wait to show them, and with someone as chaotic as their accident prone centenarian, the Chain has every right to be anxious about it.

Even as they all crowd outside of his home, Wild refuses to add any context, instead maintaining his mysteriously upbeat aura before finally stepping aside to allow them in. It's only then that the heroes realize what his 'surprise' is, welcomed by the sight of you as you stand there matching Wild's grin while holding an unfamiliar baby in your arms. She can't be much older than a few weeks, judging on both her tiny features and the obvious bags under both of her parents’ eyes...

"You have a baby?!" Wind screeches with delight, not wasting a second to race to your side.

"Her name is Mikan," Chuckling, you kneel down to let him better see your pride and joy. It isn't long before you're surrounded by most of the heroes who are immediately taken by your daughter's cuteness.

"When did this happen?" Time inquires through a raised eyebrow, one of the few Links who had remained by the door with Wild.

"Uh, she'll be three weeks old tomorrow," Wild answers, his hand darting up to rub the side of his neck. He knows that isn’t exactly what Time meant, but it’s the easiest answer.

"I didn't think you -..." Begins Twilight quietly. Although he ultimately cuts himself short, the curious look he gives his successor wordless finishes what he might've said.

Nodding slowly with some hesitation, Wild bows his head while looking back over to you. There's a fondness in his eyes as he watches you carefully pass your daughter over for Wind to hold, "I know what I said before. I...I didn't think this was something I could have - something I could want this badly, but...Well…I probably don’t need to tell you how it is…”

Twilight pats Wild’s back with a knowing smirk, indeed understanding. He’s happy to see his friend finally accept the peaceful life he deserves instead of continuing to run away from it, after all, Twilight has never been blind to the curiosity and faint jealousy that would shine in Wild’s eyes whenever listening to the other heroes talk about their families. He’s been long overdue to have one of his own.

"Hey, just one question," While Wind is busy cooing and rocking your daughter, Four turns around to address Wild once they finally join everyone else, "Did you really name your daughter after a fruit?"

Wild's cheeks flare in embarrassment, "I - It can be a pretty name, too!"

"I'm actually the one who chose it," You confess sheepishly, taking the attention away from your partner, "I was really craving tangerines throughout the whole pregnancy."

"At least it's a somewhat normal name. I was half expecting you to name your future kids something like 'Biscuit' or 'Curry'," Legend snorts.

"...We did consider picking 'Sage'.”

Warrior laughs heartily before throwing a hand over Wild shoulder with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows, "Can we expect that to be the second child's name then?"

"Woah, woah, woah - Let's settle down now, gentleman,” You immediately scold while also taking the chance to save your poor partner by pulling him away from the onslaught of teasing he was about to endure, “One baby at a time. It’s not easy carrying those things, just ask your wives!”

Four has been off into his own little world - That is to say, he’s been both distracted and extremely tired; a terrible mix, but hey, it’s nothing he hasn’t dealt with before. Despite his eyelids feeling like bricks, he remains awake and alert, arms folded across his chest as he sits in the bedside chair keeping watch over your sleeping form. 

You need the rest more than him anyway. Your husband has been through some pretty fearsome and ravenous beasts in his time, yet your work last night easily trumpeted every hell he’s undergone himself. Best to let you sleep unless he wants to change that statement.

A series of echoed knocks send Four bolting through the house, hissing a curse under his breath before tossing the front door open with plans to scold whoever’s on the other side, yet he’s stunned into silence when he realizes it’s no poorly timed mailman, rather the very friends he had invited over…although, they did come a lot sooner than he thought they would…

“WE’VE COME TO SEE -!”

“- SHHH!!!” Four nearly smacks a hand over Wild’s face. 

“- …The baby…” Wild finishes with a whisper and a grimace.

Four quickly ushers the Chain inside, allowing them to make themselves comfortable with STRICT orders to keep the noise level down. Yes, their early visit may not have been exactly anticipated, but Four holds no ill feelings towards it, in fact, he’s rather smiley while leading them to the nursery.

“Here they are,” He practically sings, eagerly looking inside the large crib as if he, himself, still can’t get enough of its contents. He has every right to be infatuated, “These are my girls~”

Although Four is bubbling with joy as he admires his little creations, the rest of the Chain stands by with wide eyes. Some even take the time to count each baby just to confirm that they are, indeed, seeing triple. Inside lies three little newborns, each fast asleep after having about as stressful of a day as their parents.

“We’re thinking of naming them Marigold, Amber, and Camelia. You know, keep to the color theme and all…”

“Damn, three of them, huh? You didn’t hold back at all, did you, Smithy?” Warrior observes aloud, much to Four’s instant lack of amusement.

“They’re so cute~” Wind coos, Twilight having to pull him back before he accidentally falls into a crib again.

“I suppose it’s a good thing I brought some of the twins’ old stuff then,” Time hums, his smirk holding a hint of sympathy. Needless to say, he doesn’t miss those early days of juggling babies himself, as much as he loves them dearly.

Four preens at the attention his daughters get, however his smile falters when he notices Sky sticking to the very back of the group, awkwardly rubbing his arm and chewing down on his lip. Four frowns.

“...I’m sorry. We should’ve waited until we told -” He keeps his voice down as he joins the older hero who is quick to shake his head and muster his best smile.

“- No, no. We’re happy for you both. Really…” Despite the sorrow stuck in his voice, Four can tell Sky means every word of it, even the sighed: “...You’re a very lucky guy.”

“...I am,” While there could be more said, he realizes now might not be the time to discuss it. Not with so many new babies in the room.

“No wonder you wanted us to be quiet. I can barely handle one newborn at a time, let alone three at once?” Legend mumbles half to himself, his finger gently cresting one of the baby’s chubby cheeks.

“You know, if you ever find your house getting a little too quiet, you can always babysit -”

“- No way in hell. We already have our hands full as it is.”

[nikosaki]

Hello there 👋, I hope you’re having a great day

I saw that you’re open for some requests, may I request some scenario/short fic for Fyodor Dostoevsky, in a story where Fyodor and Reader (female) are childhood friends, and they both got separated for some quite long time due to some family business reasons, because of that, Reader doesn’t recognize Fyodor anymore (she still remembers him, but she forgot how his face looks like). One day, they both meet again at the moment where Fyodor got captured by Ace (the white haired mafia executive from season 3 episode 4), and reader was currently working as his subordinate, I don’t know if you’re accepting some angst with happy ending, but if you don’t, then you’re allowed to decline this request, that’s all, thank you 🙏💖

"Come with me, my angel. I will sew your wings back where they belong"

Summary: You were but a flower in the wide open to him fo back in his childhood you were the only companion he had, now Fyodor meets you again but in hands of another man, will he truly resurect you or leave you as you be?

Genre: hurt to comfort (kindaof), romance Warnings:fem reader, suicide (implied for ace), slight manipulation, follows canon events of the episode, dialogues are different, not proofread, reader collapses because of overload information

A/N: this seemed so intresting :0

Fyodor remembers it all, from the day you had first met him in a fancy doll-like attire to the day he lost you.

He remembers everything.

✦ ⎯⎯ㅤִㅤ୭ ୨♡୧ ৎㅤִ ⎯⎯ ✦ ⎯⎯ㅤִㅤ୭ ୨♡୧ ৎㅤִ ⎯⎯ ✦

"I get to choose the type of game we play" the white-haired man says a tint of arrogance splayed on his tone, ace thought he had everything in control from his subcordiates to the hostage infront of him. He had already debated he would win.

"Go ahead" the man replies back his thick russian accent hiding an enigma. You were simply Ace`s right hand but how tired you were from this mans arrogance as if he was the king or something.

"Hm, this man seems quite intelligent i wonder if he can beat Ace, i really do hope he does" you think to urself you always remained quiet and god had somehow accepted your request

"Name! go get a stash of playing cards" Aces harsh tone cuts your thoughts off as you slightly roll your eyes and leave to get the cards. The thing you didnt know was the purple-eyed sharp gaze you may have forgotten who he was but he didnt.

"Is she another of your subcordinate?" he asks, fake curiosity in his tone. "Why yes could you not see the collar around her neck? Such a pretty face should not go to waste!" Ace mocks not knowing you were behind the door gritting your teeth.

"Sir, i have brought the items" you break their conversation bending over to hand over the stash of items "Ah finally" Ace heaves in exaustaion as if hes the one who was made to fetch them, his hand snatching the deck of cards hastily.

You couldnt care any less about the game they were playing but you could only focus on the man infront of you, beautiful amethyst eyes dark bags under them and luscious raven like hair one would mistake them for the feathers of a real crow.

Where have you seen such soft hair before?...

"Name, this is Fyodor Dostoevsky" the woman you called mother told you introducing you to the boy infront of you "Well then we will leave you two in the library while we talk about important matters.

Just like that your parents left and you approached the sickly boy crouching down to the wooden floor. "Why do you look so sickly?" you ask the boy as he only glares at you one could say, a tired glare.

"Maybe because i am sick?"

With that you and the sickly boy had interacted more talking and talking for hours, Actually you didnt even care how many hours it had been past back then. The words he uttered made it seemed endless and his topics made you less bored.

Even for fyodor, he was piqued in you, though you may looked like a mindless puppet back then, you had a mind compared to a jungle filled with wild flowers, how etheral and terrifying was something so vast and wide.

“Dear, we must go now bid farewell now” your mother’s voice rang out from the door of the warm and cozy library. “Ah farewell, dostoevsky” you stand up pushing the dust off from your white skirt. “Please, call me fyodor” fyodor quietly replies to which you only smile

“Alright, fyodor”

The next couple of days, you remembered how you had met with this young Russian boy and spent much of your time with him, he was far more interesting than any books you have read or any jewels you inspected.

You remember sitting down under the shadows of oak trees talking about the world beyond this small area of russia.

“Do you believe in immortality?” He asked “Maybe, why” she answered to his question which held thousands of answers but he who asked remained silent.

You remained silent watching the men in front of you play deck cards, apparently it was a guessing game.

“Ah” fyodors voice caught you back to the game, he had guessed the last card to your shock but the one who was most shocked was Ace but before you could react he had smashed a wine bottle on the winners head, staining red wine all over his face.

All of this shocked you as you watched ace walk out angrily and just sighed.

“That was really smart of you, Dostoevsky.” Ah- the name you first called him, you had really forgotten have you? “Was it? Well I simply memorised all of the cards imprints layer flat on the table” he remarked nonchalantly. “Simply? That’s quite impressive in my eyes though” you answered back rubbing his ravenous feather like hair with a soft towel as all the other subordinates watched from afar. “Say, what is your ability?” you ask putting his ushnanka “Well my ability allows me to control time and ability” the man answered tilting his head towards you.

He lnsists it’s his ability only for you to kneel down next to his ear, away from the pipe attached to the ceiling

“You are a liar”

Your voice softly whispers in his ears but instead of him being shocked at your intellectual guess, the man can only smirk as he replies back. “Correct, моя дорогая мышка”

Your eyes dilate in shock, the name he called you…

You remember he used to call you this same exact pet name all the time but just because your memories from your past stays on the other side of the storm that doesn’t mean you can’t see through the clouds.

✦ ⎯⎯ㅤִㅤ୭ ୨♡୧ ৎㅤִ ⎯⎯ ✦ ⎯⎯ㅤִㅤ୭ ୨♡୧ ৎㅤִ ⎯⎯ ✦

Anxiety casted over you as your eyes meet the disastrous scene unfold infront of you. The white haired man came back but at what cost? The cost of disbelieving in god, the thought brushes over you as you stare at Ace’s hanging body and the little boys corpse.

“Both of them are dead, моя любовь” a voice corrects behind you as you instantly turn around. You stare at the so man who had defeated the port mafia executive, such a man was capable of causing such destruction.

Even so your curiosity seeped through, “Wh- no what are you…?” Your voice could have make a croak when you felt his lip bitten fingers rise your chin towards his menacing eyes.

You could only stare at the man’s eyes, how can a man be so pretty yet cruel at the same time?

“My dear [name], do you not remember the boy you talked under the skies of Moscow city?” your eyes widen.

“Fyodor? Fyodor Dostoevsky?” This was too much for you, all of the memories appearing in your head like slideshows, your head was feeling dizzy but it was him! Your friend

And before you could say anything you felt your body collapse, with your head falling on his chest not that fyodor was surprised since it went as he planned

His hands pick you up and carries your dizzy form to the boat. After that you didn’t know what happened but somehow you had woken up in a cozy bed.

“Ah моя любовь, you are awake from your slumber I see.” Fyodors calm voice calls out, a much softer and less intimidating smile on his face.

You remain silent before getting up and inspecting his face. “It’s really you..” you try to reach out for his face but hesitate for a while but he says nothing before grabbing your hand.

“[name] I will wholeheartedly explain everything to you, but firstly would you care to join in my mission of redeeming the worlds pure form?” He takes your hand gently and brings it to his lips, looking at you adoringly.

“That means murder and violence am I right, Fyodor?” You ask still captivated by his beauty. “You are quite witty after all” he chuckles to himself

you move away your hand move closer to him before cupping his face and locking your forehead with his, which caught fyodor off guard.

“Yes, yes I will fedya. Anything to be back with you again but this time don’t leave me…please” “of course I won’t, моя дорогая мышка”

a/n: OH MG I AM SO SORRY ANON THIS TOOK SOO LONG

divider: @hyelitas

[in1-nutshell]

(Forgive me If I already requested this again, but I kind of forgot but)

I really loved your requests about bot buddy con having the personality of death in puss and boots: the last wish!

Now I wanna see Bumblebee’s reaction finally getting to meet the con (plus some more bots who haven’t met as well)

Haven't seen this Buddy in a hot minute.

There was another request with a similar ask, so I'm mixing the two into this one.

Hope you enjoy!

Bot Buddy with the personality of Death from "Puss in Boots The Last Wish" with Bumblebee, Bulkhead, Ratchet, and Arachnid

SFW, Mention of death and injuries, Cybertronian reader

TFP

Bumblebee

Bumblebee tries to hide how terrified he is.

He has most of his team fooled, but even they know that he has some fear over this Con.

Everyone does.

As far as Bumblebee knows, he was the only Autobot in history to have landed one shot on this Con. Bad thing being that now they have a special vendetta against him.

Firmly believes that they are some supernatural being of vengeance and death.

It is the only explanation that he can think of.

His team knows that the con has some sort of vendetta against him and actively helps him out of situations fast.

He is extremely thankful for their actions.

Sometimes when things get too quiet, he sometimes thinks he can hear the whistling through the walls.

Bumblebee walking through the empty base.

The eerie sound of The Whistle sound through the halls.

Bee just stays in his place in absolute terror as the lights flicker a bit.

The lights turn back to their normal state and The Whistle disappears.

Bee slowly walks back to the main room with shaky blaster at the ready.

Bulkhead

Bulkhead has an intense fear of the Con.

It rivals his fear of Scraplets.

He has completely frozen on the battlefield when hearing The Whistle.

Bulkhead has lost so many of his friends and companions thanks to this Con.

The absolute carnage he has seen after they leave is enough to make him sick in his tanks for days.

He is trying to respond differently to the whistle instead of freezing, its kind of hard to cover for his giant frame or even attempt to move him.

Bulkhead readying his wrecking ball for the reinforcements.

The Whistle is carried through the air like an omen.

“BEEP! Boop bep— (BULKHEAD! Bulkhead where--)"--Bumblebee

Bulkhead snatching Bumblebee up and sprinting to the groundbridge with shaky servos.

Ratchet

Ratchet gets chills down his spine every time someone comms in about the Con being in the area.

He has seen this Con up close before.

Not because he had to patch them up, but because they had purposely gotten close to him.

They didn’t do anything as he froze in fear over the deceased body of a comrade. Just a simple look before walking away and disappearing into the smoke of the battle.

Ratchet absolutely loathes the sound of the whistle. It brings back too many unpleasant feelings that almost make him freeze.

He believes the Con has a soft spot for medics.

That is the only reason why he has stayed alive near them for so long.

He could only wish for that luck to be sent to his team.

Ratchet on the field helping Bumblebee to the groundbridge.

The Whistle is sharp and close.

Ratchet picks up Bumblebee and tries to trek faster to the groundbridge.

Out of the corner of his optic he spots the familiar figure emerging from the smoke. They only look at Ratchet as he throws Bumblebee in and then goes in himself.

Arachnid

Nope.

This is the one Con that Arachnid refuses to mess with.

This Con’s even more lethal than she is and 10 times more dangerous.

At this point she half believes that this isn’t a Cybertronain, but an evil primordial being.

She tries to pretend that the whistling doesn’t bother her.

It’s a lie.

But maybe… maybe this is just some big shot trying to one up her on her own game.

Two can play that game.

Arachnid walking through the forest stalking an unsuspecting Breakdown and Dreadwing.

Arachnid is about to deliver the fatal blow when something sharp cuts her webs.

It’s a very familiar looking scythe.

Too familiar…

“Insubordination and attempt to murder a fellow Decepticon? Oh that simply won’t do.”--Buddy

Arachnid looks at Buddy’s frightening red optics.

“I’ll have your helm mounted on my wall!”--Arachnid

Arachnid tries to strike at Buddy.

She fails and gets pinned to the ground by the scythe.

“Oh, dear Arachnid… this is long overdue… and I’m going to enjoy this very much.”--Buddy

A bit later Buddy emerges from the bush scaring Breakdown and Dreadwing.

“Where did you come from? Not that we aren’t--”--Breakdown

“It no longer concerns you Breakdown. The danger is gone now.”--Buddy

“Danger?”--Dreadwing

“No longer exists. Now, lets get back to the Nemesis, shall we?”--Buddy

[stayconnecteed]

hi bby <3 i just saw your post and im here to request something 👉👈

i wondering if you could work something with jisung and love at first sight? idk i've been watching too many romcoms lately. it's totally okay if you don't want to write it though, love you <33

🪐˓⠀˚⠀summertime longing⠀@⠀han jisung.

bridgerton au , jisung is head over heels for you ㅤ—⠀⠀at first sight. mention of little wounds ( scratches, really ) & soonie is a paid actor hehe 🫶🏼 this is not a part of my dear gentleman oneshots & it's not proofread. i hate to write on my phone but i don't have my laptop. hope you like it, mana 🤍

SEE MORE.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀2.4k words. ⠀⠀general mlist.⠀⠀join taglist.

The carriage stopped, and Jisung didn't wait for the door to open before jumping out. He was late, and although it wasn't unusual, his old friend Minho would kill him if he didn't show up on time. He didn't bother to look at his pocket watch as he walked the cobblestone path of the Lee manor's entrance, flashing an apologetic smile at the housekeeper who had watched him grow up as she opened the door for him before his fingers caressed the metal knocker. The hall was empty, the only source of noise the bustle coming from the kitchen, and Jisung knew that the guests had already been moved to the garden. Minho was going to notice his absence. Shit.

He hurried through the hallways, the rustle of the fabric of his pants ringing in his ears with each step as the only soundtrack to his march, until he reached the large glass windows of the blue room. He stood in the doorway, taking a deep breath to calm the erratic beating of his heart, flattening the lapels of his suit jacket against his chest. He wanted to think that the shaking in his hands was a creation of his creative mind, but in reality it was just a side effect of his lack of social skills. Jisung closed his eyes. He didn't know why he kept arriving late to places when it made him so uncomfortable to have to enter a room full of people totally alone.

Then he realised that on that occasion the people were in the garden, and he was the one who remained in the room, and he chuckled, shaking his head. What an idiot. He would be fine. Plus, he knew the Lees — it wasn't going to be that bad.

The first to see him as soon as he stepped out onto the terrace was Lady Lee, the Earl of Gimpo, and she quickly gestured for him to come towards her, ignoring the panicked face of the man who should have announced him when he arrived. He did not have to force the smile that curved his lips in reflection of the one that the woman in front of him had, and he responded to her effusive greeting and affectionate comments with easy laughter and lots of promises of meetings with his own mother as soon as possible.

Minho and his family had been travelling all spring, and now that the first rays of sun heralded summer in its most comforting form, they had finally returned, to enjoy the few months of heat before the new season began. And Jisung couldn't wait to hug his best friend again, even if it meant putting up with all the jokes about the experience he had gained in Europe and how little he had been missed. It was part of who Minho was, all the teasing and the sharp smirks, and the least he could do was get to his welcome back event on time, which… Well, he hadn't been able to do it.

Lady Lee's attention slid from her son's friend to the man she had been chatting with before, and Jisung offered a respectful bow, trying to finally find Minho in the crowd. Until he found his broad shoulders moving in silent laughter at his companion's words. And he saw you, the companion, giggling too, covering your mouth with an expert twist of your fan, your cheeks flushed, in front of Minho. Then you looked at him, and for a minute he forgot everything about how to breathe. 

Because looking into your eyes was like listening to a melody. He could hear the quartet that Minho's mother had chosen for the event playing from the little wooden platform by the lake, but it was a completely different tune than that. Your gaze, cheerful and serene, sang of mischievous breezes swaying the treetops at will, of dances without music barefoot on the grass and of the warm rays of the sun kissing your skin. You brought the summer with you, that summer that filled him with life and hope, and as he lost himself in your bright pupils, standing among the crowd, he wondered how his heart had been able to beat until that moment when it didn't had you to beat for.

“Hey, Ji!” Minho called his name, approaching him in a couple of steps, and wrapped his arms around him in a hug. Minho was dry in words, but his actions showed clearly enough how he truly felt about his friends.

Jisung's body reacted with the force of habit, letting himself be embraced and tightening his grip on Minho, as if he was afraid that he would get back on that ship with the desire to travel the world. He couldn't allow it, at least for a long time. Or unless they went together. And after one last squeeze he let him step away, Jisung's hand firm on Minho's back, as the Lees' only son turned to you.

“This is Lord Han, as I told you,” he explained, and you bowed before him, lowering your head with a lingering smile curving your lips. Jisung wanted to kiss that smile into his mouth, but he cleared his throat instead, trying to fill his mind with other — more appropriate — thoughts.

“Milady here wanted to visit our city,” he continued, offering his hand to you, waiting for you to rest it over his, and squeeze it with a familiarity that made Jisung’s heart sting, “so I proposed to her to travel back with us and stay for a while. She was the girl I told you about in my last letter.”

The last letter that had arrived that morning, and that he hadn't read because he was arriving late.

“Then you were absolutely right, my brother,” Jisung uttered, his words withering in his tongue as he linked the word ‘propose’ between you and Minho, “you were going to try to find beautiful views out there in the world. You truly discovered the most breathtaking one.”

Minho gave Jisung a playful punch on the shoulder, his chest filling with pride, ready to affirm any compliment his friend could mutter about you, but he stopped when he saw you addressing Jisung, your voice soft and honeyed, still hidden behind your fan. 

“My lord really praised your composer skills during our trip here,” you whispered, averting your magnetic gaze from his as if you were having trouble bearing the knowledge that Jisung was observing you, completely stunned, but also desperate to have a conversation with you. “He forgot to add how much of a gentleman you were.”

Jisung accepted your words with a light blush covering his cheeks, and he raised his hand almost instantly, narrowing his eyes and waiting, until you released your hold on Minho's hand and let yours rest on Jisung's. His breath got caught in his throat as he felt the soft fabric of your gloves on his fingers, and he wanted to imagine that the way you held your own breath was also due to the touch his lips left on the back of your hand — the greeting of any gentleman. 

And just before either of you could say a single word, you heard Lady Lee scream by the terrace, absolutely stressed, and a spark of orange fur running across the grass like a shooting star in the darkest night. Minho gasped, and Jisung knew. His cats.

You were the one who took the initiative, smashing your fan into Minho's chest and grabbing the hem of your dress in one swift move, following the mischievous creature at a fast pace, ignoring the calls of the rest of the men at the event. Jisung stared at you, starstruck, before running after you. It wasn't the first time he had dealt with Minho's cats, they knew him, for them you were a stranger. It would be his fault if the animal started to get stressed and ended up hurting you. 

The hurried race took him to the forest adjacent to the Lee property, and by the time Jisung spotted you among the foliage, he froze. Your bun had come loose, your hair loose falling over your back, and you had your dress pulled too far up your thighs, fully prepared to climb the tree where Soonie was waiting, curious about what you were doing.

Jisung couldn't think. He didn't know if you had heard him arrive, but he didn't care. He could only focus on the smooth skin he was witnessing — more than he had ever seen in his life — contrasting with the colour of your dress. You didn’t seem uncomfortable being barefoot, your low heels abandoned among the thick roots of the weeping willow, one foot resting on a gap between the folds of the robust trunk and your hands holding tightly to the lowest branches. 

It would be difficult to reach Soonie, because its branch, although low, was too thin for a human, even dangerous with the way it was located above the lake. Jisung could understand why the cat had chosen that tree. He also liked the way its leaves swayed in the wind, and it really did look like a giant feline toy, but they already had scratching toys and little houses in the manor, all handmade by Minho. The adventure had to end before something went wrong.

But before he could warn you of his presence, a leaf creaked under his boots, alerting you, scaring you, and making you lose focus on your tightrope walk along the branch below Soonie's. You lost your balance completely, and Jisung saw your hands trying to grab onto something, anything, before falling into a loud splash on the edge of the lake. Jisung would have laughed if his heart hadn't jumped in his chest, if you had been someone else, if he wasn't so deeply scared that you were seriously wounded. 

He rushed over to where you were, mumbling a string of “I'm sorry’s” as you emerged from the water, taking a breath of oxygen, holding onto the hand Jisung was offering you. Your hair formed spirals in the water, floating around you, just like your dress. Jisung felt so overstimulated that he wasn't able to process how he had just gotten his pants wet, the level of the water reaching over his waist. All he could think about was that your gloves had torn, and that he was touching your skin, the soft but bloody skin of your outstretched hands, and that you were so close that he could feel your rapid breathing on his arm. 

He cleared his throat, trying to get rid of the thoughts that were popping into his head, and pulled you lightly so you could stand up. Only instead of getting angry with him, blaming him for spying on you, your lips curved into a smile, and you let out a crystalline laugh, closing your eyes and relaxing your shoulders before him. You were the picture of happiness, cheeks still rosy and your chest rising and falling against the corset at full speed. Even he felt on edge, with adrenaline bubbling everywhere. 

“There’s no need to be sorry, lord Han” you whispered under your breath, your eyes falling over him, Soonie purring above your heads. “It was a funny accident. I shouldn't have tried to climb so high.”

You weren't apologizing for running away but for not thinking about the density of the branch, Jisung noticed, and he couldn't help but widen his smile at it. He was getting lost in your gaze again, too captured by you, and everything was going too fast. He didn't know if it was good or bad, but he didn't want it to stop. Until he realised that you were getting goosebumps, and the first shiver ran through you. He cursed himself for not having acted sooner, and helped you out of the lake with difficulty, the ground on the shore completely muddy. You were cold.

Jisung avoided looking at you as he turned slightly to take off his expensive suit jacket, ready to give it to you, but when he turned to offer it, he saw that you were removing your dress. He was quick to put his jacket on you before you could continue, shame creeping up his neck and leaving a trail of blush in its wake, and you flashed a mischievous smile, fully aware.

“I’m not going to end up naked, lord Han” you assured him, grabbing the thick fabric of your dress and leaving it on the grass, the figure of your body crafted by the thin white nightgown you wore underneath, before snuggling into Jisung's warm black blazer, “you should court me first.”

Your words snapped Jisung out of the haze he was in, suppressing the urge he had to run his hands along your arms to help you warm up, and he picked up your dress and shoes from the floor, keeping his hands well occupied. He was a gentleman, he shouldn't… He had to involve you both in situations appropriate for a young lady like you. Not in an improvised swim, where you were going to end up so... God, so delicate and delicious, looking at him that way. 

He couldn’t. Not when everyone knew where you were, when Soonie was judging you two among the roots of the trees, approaching Jisung with the confidence of having found a familiar human. Before he could get any closer, you crouched down, holding out your fingers so he could smell them. It took a suspicious look and realising that Minho's cologne was still soaked in you to accept being held in your arms, sticking to your body to provide you with more warmth. 

Jisung had to remember to buy Soonie more treats the next time he visited Minho. 

“Are you coming?” you asked, oblivious to the way the vision you were was killing Jisung inside, you in his clothes, with that cheeky smile, your hair a wet mess but still looking so beautiful.

Still, he nodded, treasuring every second in his memory. One look, and you had cast a spell on him. He would follow you wherever you asked as long as you were the one to guide him. He knew he was in love, because you held his heart in your hand as easily as you had taken Minho's cat, and if you broke it it would hurt more than a bad cut with a rusty knife. He had fallen catastrophically, and was now at your total mercy. The worst part, however, was that he didn't care at all.

© stayconnecteed 2024 ★ do not copy, translate, repost or share this work as yours on other platforms ! consider leaving a comment or reblogging.

[madschiavelique]

F8

(i had written this in june and forgot to post it. after seeing you guys agree a lot with this post about isekaid reader i just had to put it out there)

What if Tav is conscious of the quick saves and the F8s, but not the rest of the team ? What if they remember every moment where their adventure companions stood on the very precipice of death or on the extreme of it ended up soulless, laying on the ground like a bag of cold limbs, deprived of any life ? 

What if they used F8s in the hopes that somehow, on the next try, no companions would receive a critical hit that would bring them to the abominable sight of matte eyes, missing the glint of light that shines when one’s spirit still remains ?

Perhaps then someone else could replace one of your companions in the group? Perhaps by using Withers' hirelings you could prevent the others from being affected?

Imagine one night after a long day,, you’re by yourself next to the campfire for the long rest.

The stars have been piercing the black sky like pins in the web of night for a long time now, and it's your turn to keep watch.

Everything was quiet, so quiet, too quiet. It was a sharp contrast between the little crackles of the fire taking hot splinters into the air, and the raging storm of your mind.

Your eyes are immersed in the flames, as if they alone held the precious strategy that would allow you to overcome the horror of the many deaths you wanted to prevent.

You consider the strategy you might employ for the next day. Maybe start with a small bomb? No, if the range is missed it could cause more area damage than necessary. 

Maybe throw a bottle of grease to slow them down? Except that if any sparks flew, it could get complicated.

Then maybe shoot an arrow of many targets... 

‘Can't find sleep ?

You could have expected any of the companions. But the one who came to see you was Karlach.

“No.” you replied simply, without taking your eyes off the fire.

“What’s on your mind soldier ? You’ve been… absent minded today.”

Absent minded was a euphemism.

You had seen up close all of your companions nearing the party wipe, more than a half of them on the ground trying to get their death saving throws as the rest of the party barely had any health remaining.

And out of the few dialogue options you had for her tonight, between them all, was : 

[PERSUASION] Nothing, it’s a bit of a personal matter, you’d find it very boring.

The rest of the options were either too rude for your taste, or would ultimately lead you to unveil of the true reason you were here. You knew that, it wasn’t the first time you were having this conversation.

The dice to roll was 15, and you had no guidance to get from Shadowheart, nor friends from Wyll. Barely a good bonus, you’d have to deal with it.

The first roll was a miserable 4, luckily for you, you had as many points of inspiration. The second roll was a 10. 

Maybe you should embrace it and tell her ? you thought.

The next was a 7, and the one after was a 14. 

Was the game really pushing you to reveal your situation?

Your last roll came, a natural 1.

“Come on, you know so much about all of us at camp !” she said as she sat down next to you. “Let us know more about you.”

You weren't surprised that it was Karlach who came to talk to you. You'd seen the video of Karlach breaking the fourth wall a while back, before you were transported into the game. But it intrigued you, why should she come at this precise moment of rumination.

“I just wonder... why can't the past just die?” you say, turning to her.

“I guess because sometimes you gotta kill the past yourself ? Or something like that, I don’t know, probably something wise about it. I could ask Gale if you want ? I’m sure he’d bounce on the occasion to talk about something that requires his intelligence!”

“No please, don’t get him up.”

Gale would ask too many questions, too many right questions, and would never get away from the subject. This was the last thing you needed at the moment.

“Why do you wonder that ? Something from your past chasing you ? I could take care of that.”

“I doubt you could.” you scoffed.

“Oh come on, there’s nothing that can surmount us.”

You observed her for a moment, her undying joy and energy feeling so natural. How could it feel so natural ?

“You’re not real.”

The sentence came out of your mouth, dialogue options all gone and unneeded.

She frowned, confused as the joy that inhabited her calmed down.

“What ?”

“You’re not real,” you repeated, the emotions twisting your throat.

“What do you mean ?”

A sort of panic slowly took hold of her as a heavy rumble echoed in the distance, like thunder.

“You remember all these memories, you feel all of these emotions.”

The rumbling grew louder, the ground beginning to tremble. 

“Your anger, your joy, your sadness.”

The camp floor cracked, Karlach standing up suddenly.

“None of them really belong to you.”

Beams of green light passed through the fissures of the cracked floor.

“Because you're not real.”

Your eyes landed on Withers, his gaze urging you to do the right thing.

“F8.”

A moment passed, and before long you were back in front of the campfire.

Back with your thoughts, with your torments, with heavy choices. 

They can't know, at least not yet.

______________

i wrote this while listening to this and gosh it matches so well

[cinebration]

What Purpose? (Sherlock Holmes x Reader) [Request]

hellooo, if you taking requests, you could do sherlock holmes (of enola holmes) x reader fic inspired by theo sharpe and eloise bridgerton?? I’d Sherlock to be very in love with the reader, and tells her something like: when I read something new or interesting or provoking, it is you who crosses my mind. It is you I would like to speak with about those thoughts and so I am wondering if you might also have thoughts of me when you think.—Requested by @kelloggs-world​

I slightly modified the quote. I hope you don’t mind!

Warnings: Mycroft

Gif Source: henrycavilledits

“The society papers say you’re cavorting with Lady Thornton’s personal maid,” Mycroft noted dryly, one eyebrow arching in ill-disguised disdain. “A maid, Sherlock, really.”

“A companion.”

“A glorified maid, then.”

Sherlock snapped the newspaper shut and fixed his brother with a stare. “Do you know anything about her?”

“Yes, the heiress to the modest trapping fortune not dominated by Astor. Which makes it all the more disgraceful that she is an old lady’s maid.”

“If her official title were to change to lady’s companion, would that appease you?” Sherlock shook his head. “I forgot to whom I was speaking.”

Mycroft sniffed and plucked up his snifter of brandy. “Really, Sherlock, what purpose does this woman serve?”

Sherlock straightened in his seat, spine dangerously rigid.

Mycroft snorted. “Every person and every thing serves a purpose, Sherlock. So what good does this woman do? I can’t imagine it’s much.”

The words slipped out through clenched teeth, barbed. “She does more than you.”

A brusque laugh tumbled out of his brother. “I highly doubt that, Sherlock. Our own sister isn’t comparable to either of us, and at least she comes from the source.”

Shoving himself out of his seat, Sherlock straightened his suit jacket and shot a glare in Mycroft’s direction. “Enola is more than a match for you, Mycroft. That’s why you failed to bend her to your will.”

A livid flush crept up Mycroft’s neck and into his cheeks. “If I recall, you stepped in as her guardian.”

“Consider that, brother. She convinced me against you.” Sherlock flashed an insincere smile. “More than your match.”

“Here I thought Enola was the problem, scurrying around town like some low-bred urchin, yet I hear you are cavorting with nothing better than a maid.” A sneer curled Mycroft’s lips. “My God, the pair of you. I don’t know why I even bother!”

“No one asked you to bother, Mycroft.”

Sherlock strode for the door, refraining from snapping a goodbye.

“She can’t be worth much,” Mycroft called after him. “Even if she did throw you a bone by sending you on that murder investigation!”

Teeth grinding, Sherlock all but slammed the door shut. Anger radiated in unexpected waves through him, his frustration tantamount to whenever an investigation thwarted him unnecessarily. He couldn’t understand why Mycroft’s words stuck within him. Though his brother was insufferable, most if not all of his barbs passed through Sherlock without so much as an abrasive touch. That he should so infuriate him confused Sherlock as much as it riled up his ire.

Sheets of rain poured down on the city, drowning all light in gray. Hansoms darted down the cobblestone streets, streaming water in their wake, impossible to flag down. The pavement was nearly empty, everyone huddled someplace out of the deluge.

In his haste, Sherlock had forgotten his umbrella. Turning his coat collar up and shoving his hands deep in his pockets, he cut across the street, dodging a hansom he heard before he saw, and stormed in the direction of his flat. The stinging cold of the rain beating into his face and running rivulets beneath his shirt did nothing to cool him of his anger.

“It wasn’t just the murder,” he hissed between his teeth, hands balling into fists in his pockets. Although the death of your last living relative had proven an intricate and thorny case, one that had taken twelve day to solve, it wasn’t as though you were a treasure trove of such cases. In the months since the investigation’s resolution, you had not required Sherlock’s services again.

Lady Thornton, however, had used them in a theft case shortly after Sherlock solved your case, causing you both to cross paths again. Sherlock had taken the time to interview you regarding the theft and any information you might know. As with your own case, you presented facts and evidence in a logical, rational manner, offering up details that surprised Sherlock and gave a glimpse into your perceptiveness, leaving an indelible impression on him.

The theft was resolved in less than two days. Yet Sherlock had returned again to Lady Thornton’s estate to see you. He had recognized a sharp mind desperate to be seen and engaged, and despite himself, he decided he was the man to do it.

The old woman acted as chaperone, but the shrewd and experienced Lady Thornton recognized what was unfolding before even the faintest hint of it brushed either Sherlock’s or your mind. Melding into the shadows as much as possible, a smirk playing on her lips, Lady Thornton contented herself with providing only the barest level of propriety for the sake of the papers, allowing you and Sherlock as much privacy as she could.

Sherlock had found you eager to discuss all manner of subjects. He brought books for you to devour in days so that there was new topics of discourse the next time you met. Your voracious appetite for knowledge and conversation—proper conversation, not the societal niceties that amounted to nothing but superficiality—secretly delighted Sherlock, such that he took great care to select the most interesting of texts to deliver to your door.

What purpose did you serve? The question tasted vile on Sherlock’s tongue, though he hadn’t been the one to ask it. Like a wound, he returned to it again and again, suffering the indignity of it. Did a person have to serve?

As he turned down one street, then the next, he found himself contemplating it. Loathe to admit it, he realized that Mycroft had something akin to a point. Neither Holmes brother wasted time on anyone without reason. For Mycroft, it was blackmail and state secrets, government and high-society connections; for Sherlock, anything to do with a case.

Therefore, why did he spend so much time with you?

The thought spun so quickly through his mind that he grew dizzy with it, pausing to lean against a lamppost. The answer was there, just beyond his reach, and any attempt to grasp it made him ill, the world tilting beneath his feet.

They carried him through the rain until they found a cab unloading an elderly couple. Sherlock flagged the driver and hopped into the hansom, the carriage dipping low beneath his formidable frame. He had to bribe the driver several extra quid to ensure the man drove him out to the estate.

When they arrived, he paid the man and refrained from asking him to stay. Lady Thornton would never allow him to return home in such weather, not without sending him off in her own carriage. Seeing as she wouldn’t subject her own driver to such inclement conditions, Sherlock would be stuck there until the weather cleared.

The staff recognizing him, they let him enter and stripped him of his soaking overcoat and jacket.

“I believe the former master of the house,” the butler informed him in crisp tones, “had trousers you could use.”

“I can dry before the fire,” Sherlock assured him.

He paced in front of the crackling flames for what seemed like an eternity while he waited for you to arrive. When the door opened softly, it took all his self-control to avoid spinning sharply to face you.

“You’ll catch your death, Sherlock, getting caught in the rain like that!”

Suppressing the faint upward twitch of his lips, Sherlock slowly turned to you. The anger at Mycroft’s words melted as he peered into your face.

“What is it?” you asked, reaching up to touch your cheek self-consciously.

“Nothing. I merely…” Sherlock frowned, casting about for words that suddenly eluded him. “Do you believe that every individual in one’s life must serve a purpose?”

Eyebrows arching, you chuffed a quiet laugh. “My, has the weather made you maudlin?”

“No, it isn’t…my brother made an insinuation, and I thought it worth asking you your opinion on the matter.”

Head cocking to the side, you scrutinized Sherlock’s features. “What sort of insinuation?”

“Well…” Sherlock laughed, shook his head. “Mycroft is uncannily skilled at insinuating more than one thing with few words. It would take hours to parse everything he means from what little he says.”

“You are stuck here until the weather improves, so we have the time to spare.”

Sherlock met your gaze, your eyes sincere and curious. Struck suddenly with the urge to fidget, he turned back toward the fireplace and leaned against the mantle, his soaked trousers and collar slowly drying.

“I think,” you answered carefully, “that whom we choose to spend our time with speaks to their importance in our lives.”

Sherlock glanced over his shoulder at you.

“For Lady Thornton, my purpose is to be a companion. She may compensate me for it, but I would be her companion for free, because I enjoy spending time with her. Her purpose for me, if it matters to know, is as mentor and friend. That is sufficient.”

The words sunk into Sherlock’s thoughts, quieting them. The flames popped behind him, crackling as the logs shifted.

“Mycroft asked me what purpose you served,” he heard himself say. “He doesn’t understand why I spend my time with you.”

Your throat moved as you swallowed reflexively, your gaze dropping away from his. “Frankly, I’m inclined to agree with him. I don’t understand why you spend your time with me.”

Sherlock frowned, his chest tight. Were there words to explain why? He considered it for several moments, his heart an uneven metronome in his ribs.

“When I read something new or interesting or provoking,” he began, the words passing softly over his lips, “it is you who crosses my mind. It is you I would like to speak with about those thoughts. So I come here and I share them, and I enjoy hearing your replies.”

You glanced up at him, your gaze sharp and hesitant simultaneously.

“And I find myself wondering…” He swallowed thickly, the words on his tongue as if they had waited his whole life to be there, his thoughts roiling in confusion but the conviction that this was right, inevitable, felt firmly in his deepest self. “I am wondering if you might also have thoughts of me when you think.”

Your lips trembled, caught between a smile and panic, triumph and anxiety. Pressing your fingers against them, you inhaled sharply and attempted again, this time managing to speak. “I think of you often, Sherlock. How could I not?”

Something sharp buried itself in his chest, but the feeling was not altogether unpleasant. Sucking in a breath, he gripped the mantle with both hands, knuckles white with the pressure. He didn’t know how to proceed, the confession having worn out any social manner he had been forced to learn.

Gently clearing your throat, you offered, “So when next you see your brother, tell him the purpose I serve is…as your other self, as you are my other self.”

Your hand touched him lightly on the elbow. Shifting, Sherlock watched your hand slide down the length of his forearm, fingers gently entwining with his. The touch sent shivers through his arm and down his spine, startling him with their strength.

“He will never understand that,” he managed to say, his voice thick.

“Then we should pity him.”

Meeting your gaze, Sherlock laughed, unable to let the sharp ha! stay buried. You smiled, flashing teeth in a beautiful face. He hadn’t realized you were so beautiful…or perhaps you had been beautiful all along, and it had taken all this time for him to see it.

[scarareg]

Ok I forgot all about the canon sapphic characters they're erasing to make Rhaenyra cool who are they and why am I not kissing them as we speak

Of course Anon, thanks for asking! Here are who they took from us:

-Laena Velaryon

After Viserys decided to marry Alicent over her, her parents were angry but Laena could not care less , and it is said that "Her ladyship shows far more interest in flying than in boys".

People also noted that Rhaenyra and Laena became fond and "more than fond" of each other, and because Dragonstone and Driftmark were so close, Laena and Daemon visited Rhae often, and Rhae did the same and they flew together. They are the ones who decided the engagements of Jace and Baela and Luke and Rhaena; and when Laena was going to give birth to her new baby, Rhae was there during the birth that ended in tragedy.

-Alysanne Blackwood ,aka Black Aly, the myth, the legend, was a badass hunter and archer.

In the Battle of the Burning Mill, Ser Amos Bracken killed Lord Samwell Blackwood (her brother), so she took action and immediately slayed Ser Amos with a weirwood arrow. This should have happened in HOTD S2 Episode 3, but they didn't adapt it for some reason

She is Benjicot Blackwood's aunt and was his advisor. She also commanded 300 archers.

She shared tend with Sabitha Frey, and rumors say they were dating

-Sabitha Frey, Lady of the Twins, widow of Lord Forrest Frey, the head of House Frey, and mother of his child, but it is said that she always preferred women over men. Mushroom described her as a: "sharp-featured, sharp-tongued harridan of House Vypren, who would sooner ride than dance, wore mail instead of silk, and was fond of killing men and kissing women"

-Jeyne Arryn

Lady of the Eyrie, head of House Arryn.

Her cousin Ser Arnold Arryn tried to take her position twice because he claimed women were too soft to rule. He failed and she imprisoned him and disinherited him and his family line.

After Daemon killed his first wife, Rhea Royce, he wanted to claim Runestone for himself. Lady Jeyne passed it to Lady Rhea's nephew. Daemon went to her to complain, but Lady Jeyne put him in his place, told him he was unwelcomed in the Vale, and told him to leave at once.

When she joined Rhaenyra side, she said the quote: "In this world of men, we women must band together". This should have happened at the beginning of S2, when Jace should have gone to her to ask for her alliance, before going to the North with the Starks. Obviously all of this was omitted in the show.

It is said Jessamyn Redfort and her were dating

-Jessamyn Redfort stayed by Lady Jeyne's side throughout her life. She is said to have been Lady Jeyne's "great companion". It's giving "Historians will say they were good friends"

[thebadgerclan]

Reunited

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x sister!reader, Nikolai Lantsov x reader

Summary: After 15 years, you are reunited with your brother...

Part 2 to “Sister”

A/N: I appreciate all the love that “Sister” got, but I will be capping this at 2 parts.  School is, unfortunately, more important than fanfiction 😂❤

Also yes I made Wesper married, I fucked with canon enough, enjoy

The King of Ravka watched as you shrugged off your silk dressing gown and joined him in bed, opening his arms to you.  “Oh, I forgot to tell you,” you said, extinguishing the lamp on your bedside table.  “My brother’s coming to town.”  Nikolai raised a brow.  “He is?  Why?”  “Apparently he and his friends have been hired for a job.  A job they need my assistance for.”  The King cocked his head as you snuggled into his chest.  “What kind of job?”  “All I know is that they need to get into the Religious Archives alone.  Beyond that, I have no idea.”

You’d told your husband about your brothers, about Hertzoon, how you’d come to Ravka shortly after your wedding.  It was only thanks to Nikolai, well, thanks to Sturmhond, that you’d been able to locate your brother and contact him.  Over the span of several months, you and Kaz had caught up on the 15 years of lost time, learned everything you’d missed on.  You’d discovered that your eldest brother, Jordie, had not survived, that Kaz had risen to prominence in the Barrel and was set on bringing Rollins, the man who had masqueraded as Jakob Hertzoon, to his knees.

And Kaz had learned that you were Queen of Ravka.  Part of him seethed with jealousy: you’d been brought up in the lap of luxury while he’d had to fight for every scrap, every penny, but he supposed he couldn’t be angry at you for that.  And your position had turned out to be a boon to he and his Crows; giving him a way into the Religious Archives.  As soon as Kaz had received the letter confirming you’d help, he’d gathered his flock and set off for Ravka.

***

“You’re fussing.”  “I am not fussing.”  “Yes, you are, my love.”  Nikolai took your hands, pulling them from where you’d been fidgeting with your hair, drawing your attention to him.  “I haven’t seen my brother in 15 years,” you said, letting your nerves bubble over.  “I don’t even know what he looks like now, let alone what he’s like.  Saints, I don’t even know wha-”  “Hey, hey,” your husband soothed, kissing your forehead.  “Take a breath, lovely.

“I know that you’re nervous, and I know that you’re a little bit scared, but I promise you that everything will be alright.  He’s your brother, and even though it’s been a long time, that hasn’t changed.  Just be yourself, Y/N, he’ll love you.”  Before you could respond, before your thoughts could spiral, the doors to the receiving chambers opened.  

“Presenting Mister Kaz Brekker, Miss Inej Ghafa, Mister Jesper Fahey, Mister Wylan Fahey, Miss Nina Zenik, and Mister Matthias Helvar.”  Your brother and his companions entered, and the guard bowed to you.  “His Most Royal Majesty, Nikolai Lantsov, and Her Most Royal Majesty, Queen Y/N Lantsov.”  With another bow, the guard departed, leaving the eight of you alone.

“It’s really you,” Kaz said, both to you and himself.  Gone was the little girl from Lij, afraid of the bustle of Ketterdam.  In her place stood a woman; a regal, beautiful woman, clothed in sky blue silk and diamonds, a Queen.  “It is,” you said, a tearful smile on your face.  When you stepped forward, arms extended, hoping for an embrace, your brother stepped back, drawing a sharp breath.  At once, you recalled one of his letters: Since that night on the Barge, I can’t bear to touch anyone.  Every time I brush against someone, I’m right back there with Jordie.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, quickly composing yourself.  “These must be your friends you’ve told me all about.”  Kaz cleared his throat.  “Yes.  Inej, Jesper, Wylan, Nina, and Matthias.”  Nina was the only one who dipped into a curtsey; as she was the only one who recognized you as her Queen.  “Please, sit.  I gather we have much to discuss.”  Nikolai seated himself with you on a loveseat, and your brother and his Crows gathered around.  Your husband and Jesper fell into easy conversation, and you smiled when he took your hand.

“So Kaz,” you said, clearing your throat.  “Tell me about this job in the archives.”  “A Shu priest claims that the remains of one of Sankt Kho’s clockwork soldiers resided in the archives,” he said.  “We’ve been tasked with returning it.”  You nodded, rising to pour yourself tea.  “There are indeed remains here, but whether they’re authentic is unclear.  Only a highly skilled Durast could tell, and even then it’s not certain.”

Kaz nodded, slowly spinning his cane between his hands.  “The priest said as much.  We’ve been guaranteed payment even if the remains aren’t genuine.”  “That’s all well and good, but how do you plan to conceal the fact that you’re taking the remains?  Those Archives are open to the public, people will notice their absence.”  Your brother rolled his eyes.  “If only I’d thought of that.  Jesper.”

The lanky Zemini stood and opened the satchel as his side, showing you what lay within.  “I happen to have  Durast on my team,” Kaz said.  “One who has become rather proficient in replication.  It’s not perfect, but to a casual viewer, even a monk, it’s identical.  If the clockwork soldier’s remains are real, then you have a nearly perfect replica.  If they’re a fake, then you’ve got yourself a new fake.”

You nodded.  This wasn’t the first heist your brother and his team had pulled off, you knew, but it was fascinating to watch his mind at work.  “Very well.  I can get you in at 10 bells tonight, but you have to be out by 1 bell.”  Kaz nodded.  “Done.”  You rose and called for a servant, who entered an instant later.  “Please show Miss Ghafa, Miss Zenik, Mister Helvar, and the Misters Fahey to rooms where they can rest.  I wish to speak to Mister Brekker.”  “Of course, moya tsaritsa.”

When it was just you, Kaz, and Nikolai, you resumed your seat.  Your husband sensed your nervousness and took your hand, kissing it softly.  “Did you ever think about me?” you asked, your gaze in your lap.  “After I left?”  “Of course I did,” your brother replied.  “Every single day, Y/N.  You and Jordie.  I swore that I’d get revenge for you, and maybe with this job, I’ll be one step closer.”  You lifted you face to find Kaz looking at you, and for a moment, it was like you were back in Ketterdam.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered.  “You have suffered so much, and I…”  You took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself.  “I grew up with every privilege, anything and everything I could ever want.  But I never forgot about you, Kaz.  Or Jordie.  Even when I didn’t know if you’d survived, I prayed for you.  To the Saints, to Ghezen, to anyone who’d listen.  And I am so, so sorry for everything you’ve gone through, and if I’d known, I’d ha-”

“Y/N,” Kaz said, leaning across the space between you and taking your hand.  You froze, knowing how much effort this was likely taking him.  “Y/N, you don’t have to apologize to me.  What happened to us, to me, no one could have stopped it.  Yes, I’ve suffered, but I’ve also fought for what I have.  And I’m so damn grateful that you didn’t have to suffer, that you didn’t have to fight.  Look at you; happy and healthy, a husband who loves you, you’re a Queen.  And if an ounce of my suffering bought you this happiness, then I am glad to have done it.”

Cautiously, you took his hand in both of yours, and while he squeezed his eyes shut, he did not pull away.  “Kaz, I–”  “You’re still my baby sister, Y/N,” he interrupted.  “Queen or not.  And I will do whatever I can to protect my baby sister.”  “By 1 year!” you said, and your brother laughed.  You and Kaz rose at once, and to your great surprise, he pulled you into his arms.  “I love you,” he said.  “Sister, I love you.”  “I love you too, Kaz,” you replied, tears spilling over.

When you broke the embrace, Nikolai extended a hand, which Kaz took, clasping it for a bare second.  “You know,” your husband said.  “If you ever want to get rid of this ‘Pekka Rollins’, I might be able to help with that.”  Kaz cocked his head.  “How so?”  “Well, he is indirectly responsible for your brother’s death, am I right?”  A nod.  “In that case, he’s responsible for the death of the Queen of Ravka’s brother, which is punishable by life imprisonment.”

Kaz nodded.  “I appreciate the offer,” he said, adjusting his hold in his cane.  “But when Pekka Rollins is brought down, I want it to be at my hand.  For Jordie.”  He looked at you, smiling softly.  “And for Y/N.”  Nikolai nodded.  “Very well.  But should you change your mind, the offer still stands.”  “I’ll keep that in mind.”  Your brother and husband exchanged a few more words before the former departed, leaving you and Nikolai in the receiving chamber.  “Do you think they’ll pull it off?” he asked, draping an arm over your shoulder.  “He’s Kaz Brekker,” you responded.  “Of course he will.”

[shebunie]

Do you think you could write about mizu x reader being a belly dancer, how do you think she'd react when her traveling friend starts belly dancing to some music or something-?

𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐥

𝗠𝗶𝘇𝘂 𝘅 𝗕𝗲𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗗𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲𝗿!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝘄𝗵𝘆 𝘄𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝗜 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗺𝗶𝘇𝘂 𝗯𝗲𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗵𝗮𝗽𝗽𝘆 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟭.𝟭𝗸 𝐀/𝐍: 𝗹𝗲𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝗳𝗲 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘁, 𝗜'𝗹𝗹 𝗱𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗰𝗼𝗼𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗰𝗹𝗲𝗮𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗮𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴─

“This is not helping,” Mizu mumbled while adjusting her cap, following the cheers and applause of a forming crowd not far from her. The narrow, bustling streets were filled with the lively sounds of market vendors haggling, the tantalizing aroma of spices, and the enchanting melodies of street musicians. 

The swordswoman couldn't help but feel a twinge of frustration as she surveyed the scene. Mizu's wandering feet led her to a bustling square where a spirited atmosphere promised entertainment of all kinds. The crowd had gathered around a makeshift stage, and curiosity sparked in Mizu's eyes as she edged closer to see what the commotion was about.

As she maneuvered through the sea of people, the rhythm of enticing music filled the air. Mizu's sharp instincts honed in on a familiar beat—the intoxicating melody of dancing. The crowd erupted in cheers, and Mizu couldn't resist the pull of the performance unfolding before her.

On the stage, a mysterious figure gracefully swayed and twirled, casting a spell on the onlookers with every sinuous movement. The dancer's attire shimmered in the sunlight, adorned with intricate embellishments that caught and reflected the vibrant colours of the surroundings. Mizu couldn't help but be captivated by the mesmerizing display. 

Much to the woman's surprise, the mysterious dancer turned out to be none other than you. Realization hit her like a sudden gust of wind. It was you, donned in that attire of vibrant silk, with gems that cascade down your arms as it draped across those hips that clung to your form, accentuating the graceful arcs of movements. The tinkling sound of delicate bells attached to their clothing harmonized with the rhythmic beat of the music, creating a symphony that echoed through the marketplace.

Her travelling companion had somehow managed to gather an impromptu audience. Mizu's eyes widened as she observed your fluid movements. How their hips swayed, hands tracing intricate patterns in the air, and their whole body seemed to speak a language of its own. The crowd, initially drawn by the music, quickly shifted their attention to the captivating performance unfolding before them.

For a moment, Mizu forgot her annoyance and found herself mesmerized by your newfound skill. Your dance was a mesmerizing spectacle, and the rhythmic undulations seemed to cast a spell over the gathering crowd. The coins tossed into the makeshift hat at their feet served as a testament to the crowd's appreciation.

Caught in the hypnotic sway of the dancer's movements, Mizu couldn't help but appreciate the artistry. However, the stoic demeanour remained intact. Unbeknownst to her, a mischievous glint sparkled in the eyes of her companion, you who had been sharing the path to revenge for some time.

Seizing the opportunity to break through the sword wielder’s composed exterior, with a grin you gestured towards the makeshift dance floor. "Come on, Mizu! Join me!" Such infectious enthusiasm contrasts with Mizu's restrained demeanour.

Mizu's initial reaction was a raised eyebrow and a hesitant shake of her head, but you persisted, adding a teasing twirl to their dance. The crowd cheered, encouraging Mizu to let loose. She scoffed at the suggestion, her attention fixed on the performance before her. "I’m not much of a dancer," she replied, her voice carrying a hint of aloofness.

Dancing was not her forte, and she had always been more comfortable with a sword in hand than moving to the rhythm of music. But as the crowd's enthusiasm grew, and you continued to dance with uninhibited joy, Mizu felt a flicker of something within her—a spark of curiosity. 

You approached her with a twirl, "It's more fun when you join in," a whisper to her ear, you slyly intertwined your hands together, and you felt her stiffen. Caressing her face with a free hand, it seemed as if the market square seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in the centre of the world. There was a subtle softness in your gaze, a silent invitation to step out of her comfort zone.

“I’ll guide you through it.”

After a moment of contemplation, Mizu sighed, realizing that resisting your infectious energy was a futile endeavour. With a reluctant smile, she gave your hand a gentle squeeze, and you pulled her into the dance. The crowd erupted in cheers as Mizu tentatively moved to the music, her movements initially rigid but gradually becoming more fluid.

As the two of you danced together, Mizu's initial discomfort melted away. She started to enjoy the experience, feeling the freedom that came with letting go of her usual stoic demeanour. The composed woman found herself smiling genuinely, revelling in the unexpected joy of the moment. The dance continued, weaving a story of a blossoming relationship, adventure, and the magic that happens when one lets go of inhibitions.

As the music reached its crescendo, concluding their performance with a graceful bow. The crowd erupted in applause. Both panting slightly from the exertion, a triumphant grin plastered on your face.

"How was that?" you asked, eyes gleaming with excitement.

Mizu chuckled, genuinely impressed. "Well, that was certainly… different."

You beamed at her response, earlier worries about entertaining the crowd dissipating like morning mist. The sun's golden rays painted the sky in hues of orange and pink, creating a breathtaking canvas that stretched across the horizon. Having successfully navigated the lively market, found a quiet corner bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun. The distant sounds of the crowd blended into a gentle hum as they settled into a moment of tranquillity.

"You were amazing out there, Mizu," you praised, a genuine smile gracing your face. "Who knew you had such hidden talents?"

Mizu smirked, a rare display of satisfaction crossing her features. "I suppose there's more to me than meets the eye. But don't get used to it; I don't plan on making a habit out of dancing in public."

You chuckled, acknowledging her reserved nature. "Fair enough. But I'm glad you joined in. It added a bit of charm to the day."

As the sun continued its descent, the market square transformed into a mosaic of warm lights and shadows. Street vendors lit lanterns, creating a winsome ambience that enveloped the surroundings. Strolling through the narrow pathways, exploring the enchanting stalls that offered an array of exotic wares.

They shared laughter and stories, creating memories that would linger in their hearts long after the journey's end. Mizu, known for her stoicism and unwavering focus on the mission at hand, found herself enjoying the simple pleasures of the moment. The infectious spirit of you had a way of breaking through her walls, and for a fleeting moment, Mizu welcomed the respite.

As the night wore on, Mizu and you, sated and content, made their way back to their lodgings. The market square, now quieter, still echoed with the distant melody of music and the memories of a warrior's dance. Little did they know that their paths, intertwined by chance and connection, would continue to unfold with each step of their voyage.

[thechaoticdruid]

[Firsts 2/2]

Pairing: Astarion x Named! F!Tav

Plot: Winnie and the party have infiltrated the Goblin Camp and are on their way to rescue the Archdruid Halsin. Astarion's flirtations are just as persistent as ever, leading to a spicy proposition later at the tiefling party.

Content/Warnings: MDNI SMUT THERE IS SMUT!Fantasy bigotry towards goblins, violence with light gore, goblin death, sexual humor, heavy sexual content post tiefling party, virginity loss, PiV sex, fingering, ass grabbing, finger licking, blood drinking, errors may be possible, ooc moments probably. This part is LONG as fuck, 7, 570 words. Also no smut till the end btw, but plenty of horny teasing. Oh right forgot to add a warning for brief descriptions of torture (goblin camp shenanigans) and allusions to Astarion's trauma. I was tired last night while writing this .

First part: [1/2]

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Great, goblins. It just had to be goblins.

Winnie let out an internal sigh as her and the rest of the party entered the heart of the goblin camp. 

The sounds of drums filled her ears as she looked over the chaos before her. She recognized someone up on a stage, a bard she'd previously met in the druid’s grove. Looks like he didn't heed her warning about goblins. 

Typical. No one ever listens. 

Winnie turned back as she noticed her companions making observations. Shadowheart was inspecting the merchant goblin’s wares while Lae’zel sneered at the little green humanoids. Astarion on the other hand looked positively thrilled at all the chaos.  

“Ah, drink it in. That sweet sweet chaos!” Astarion grinned from ear to ear. “Not that I approve of goblins of course, filthy little beasts, but I absolutely love all this delicious debauchery!” 

“Keep your guard up, Star. I wouldn't trust the goblins with a pair of scissors.” Winnie muttered quietly. 

“Do I detect a hint of bigotry from our righteous little heroine, hm?” Astarion smirked at Winnie, an eyebrow raised and a glint of mischief in his eyes. 

“I don't have a problem with goblins, as long as they don't plan on murdering innocents, which this horde obviously is.” Winnie murmured, crossing her arms and looking off to the side. While Winnie was correct, the horde seemed very intent on slaughtering the druid’s grove; it didn't excuse the fact that Winnie had indeed lied about not having a problem with goblins. Ever since they'd reached the blighted village a few days back she'd constantly kept a sharp eye on the little green humanoids, preferring to stay as far from them as she could. It was an aversion that Astarion was quick to prod at since the human female had previously been quite adamant at calling out his prejudice towards gnomes and gur. (Winnie honestly had gotten rather offended considering some of her closest friends had been gnomes!)  But similar to Astarion, Winnie had a history with goblins so to speak. Just the sight of them was enough to make her uncomfortable.

The past wasn't important now. Winnie had to remind herself of that. What was important is finding the druid Halsin and hopefully a cure for their parasites.  Winnie looked around the camp, checking to see if there had been any sign of a cage or anything they could keep the druid captive in, but as she continued to find no luck it was clear that their search would need to go deeper within the goblins domain.

The camp itself surrounded an old Selunite temple that the goblins had appeared to have taken up residence in.  As Winnie began to head towards the entrance she ended up bumping into one of the goblins who'd been telling a story to his friends.

“HEY WATCH WHERE-” The goblin glanced up and quickly looked over Winnie, getting a good look at her. “Another human! You lot think you're so high and mighty! Coming in here like you own the place!” The goblin snarled,”well you ain't nothing!” 

Winnie just looked at the little green man with a blank stare. She rolled her eyes before turning to walk away, not about the goblin bate her into a fight.  As she began to walk off the goblin blinked in confusion. “HEY I WAS TALKING TO YOU HUMAN!” The goblin quickly went after Winnie, kicking her feet out from under her. Winnie fell to the ground with a grunt, just barely able to stop herself from landing flat on her face. Her hands were skint slightly, stinging from the empact. A small cut formed on one of her index fingers, drawing blood. Astarion quickly whipped his head over from where he'd been. The human’s sweet intoxicating ichor immediately delights his senses. 

The goblin moved in front of Winnie, eyes narrowed at her. “Someone outta teach you respect.” The goblin suddenly kicked her chin, “kiss my foot!” 

Winnie flinched from the kick, her chin throbbed as she let out a pained whimper. Her fuschia colored eyes glanced back at the goblins' feet.

“Kiss it!” He said again.

“Chk! Don't you dare!” Lae'zel hissed from the side while Astarion and Shadowheart watched in amusement. Winnie leaned her head over towards the goblin’s foot, her mouth was inches away from it. She actually looked as if she was about to press her lips to it before suddenly she jerked her head forward and sank her teeth down into the goblin’s ankle with enough force to break through the skin and draw blood.

“Ahhhhhhh!!!!” The goblin suddenly screamed, “get the hells off me!” 

Winnie pulled back and sat up, spitting goblin blood out of her mouth and wiping off her chin. She had left a deep bloody bite mark around the goblins ankle. Astarion let out a laugh at Winnie’s antics. 

“Usually biting is my specialty, but I must admit it does rather suit you, darling.” 

“You'll pay for that you human bitch!” The goblin suddenly unsheathed his scimitar and took a stab at Winnie. Quickly she dodged out of the way before taking the opportunity to land a swift kick on the goblin’s bleeding ankle. 

“Godsdamnit!!!” He clutched his ankle before then losing his balance and falling to the ground. 

The druid then proceeded to kick him in the face, knocking out a tooth.

“This is getting fun! Let's gut him!” Astarion said, voice full of bloodlust.

“No please! Mercy!” The goblin cried.

“Kiss my feet.” Winnie crossed her arms and glanced down at the goblin with a glare. “Now.”

“Y-Yes m-ma'm.” The goblin crawled over and planted his lips over the druid’s boots, making the vampire snicker from behind Winnie. 

“Now get out of my face.” She said, the goblin quickly ran off, tail between his legs.

“Aww…..I was hoping you'd splatter his innards all over the dirt.” Astarion pouted, voice sounding like a sad child. 

“I'm not about to have the entire horde on my ass just because of one little shit. We're not killing anyone unless we have to.” Winnie sighed before feeling a familiar sting on her hand. Blood was still dripping down her finger. 

“May I?” Astarion gently grasped Winnie’s hand. The druid’s cheeks reddened as she looked at her hand and then back at him. The pale elf had a lustful longing gaze in his eyes.

Winnie looked off to the side, face flushed. 

“I….guess…” 

Astarion slowly leaned in, running his tongue over the trail of blood that had dripped down to her wrist. He practically sucked her finger into his mouth to finish off the rest, his eyes staring up at her seductively as he cleaned off her digit before leaving a small kiss on the cut.

“Still a pity you decided to let the little rodent live. You would have looked absolutely ravishing drenched in his blood.~” Astarion purred. 

“You two aren't going to start coupling out in the open are you? We still have a job to do or have you forgotten?” Shadowheart crossed her arms. 

“As delicious as that idea is, Shadowheart is right. Best get back to the worms.” Astarion hummed, still looking rather smug about what had just occurred. Winnie was a bit dumbfounded at the moment. Legs feeling like jelly as heat rushed to her face and to her thighs. It had been days since Winnie had received her first kiss from the pale elf. Days since they'd come so close to having sex before being caught by literally everyone one of their companions! Gods, Winnie was still trying to recover from the embarrassment. 

Their uninvited audience had ended up ruining the mood so Winnie was able to keep her virginity that night. Astarion hadn't made any more attempts to bed her since then, but his flirtations were still going strong.  Winnie took a deep breath, trying to regain her composure before continuing on with her companions. 

They didn't spend too much time on the outside of the camp.  Winnie had peacefully convinced one of the goblin ladies to release an owlbear cub who was being tormented at the camp. Peacefully convinced meaning threatened to kill them if they did not release the poor beast.

Afterwards the young druid gave the cub a pat on the head before allowing him to get a whiff of her scent so he could find their camp later.

Once the baby owlbear was out of harm's way they continued on with their quest and entered the 

temple. The guards were less than welcoming, but Astarion was quick to exclaim that their little group were all loyal followers of the absolute, true souls in fact. He laced every word with some dramatic flair.  The goblins looked at one another for a moment before sighing and allowing them to pass. Winnie took note of Shadowheart becoming increasingly on edge the further they entered the temple, but she refrained from pressing the matter. She assumed if it was important the half-elf would tell her.  

The four adventurers stepped deeper into the darkness. The loud wail of a man could be heard coming from off in the distance. His blood curdling screams echoing throughout the chambers of the temple. Winnie poked her head out from behind a corner and immediately spotted a human man strapped to a torture rack. Two goblin males stood next to him winding a little lever to stretch his limbs to their limit as the other goblin questioned him. 

Winnie cringed hearing another scream from the human man. A look of pity flashed across her face momentarily before she quickly assumed a stoic facade.

“Well isn't this intriguing?” Astarion mused, popping his head out from behind the corner.

Shadowheart and Lae'zel joined him shortly afterwards.  Winnie walked over towards the rack, eyes looking over the pained and terrified man. 

The goblins were cackling their heads off at the poor man’s misery. From what happened goblins were saying this man was a part of the group the druid Halsin had gone with. One of the goblins suddenly turned back to see Winnie. 

“Come to join your friend, have you human?” He asked in a mocking tone. Winnie looked over at the man. He started right at her, his face battered and bruised, tears had been streaming down his face. 

“Friend? I've never seen the idiot before in my life.” Winnie said, keeping a calm and composed face. She stared at him before looking back at the goblins as an idea sparked in her mind. 

“Let me put him through the paces.” She said.

“A human, torturing another human!? Ha! Why not!” The torturer goblin laughed before gesturing for the druid to come forward. Winnie looked over at the tools laid out before her. She kept her expression stoic and unreadable as she suddenly picked up a hot iron poker.

“What are you- NO! NO PLEASE!” The man cried out before feeling the hot melt press against his thigh. He let out another wail of a scream. Astarion smirked, tongue flicking across his lips sadistically as he and the others simply watched.

Winnie then tossed the poker to the side, glancing back over the tools before grabbing a pair of pliers and ripped the man’s big toenail right out. 

“There's a hidden village across the bridge! The entrance is covered with moss!” The man suddenly shouted. 

“Well look at that, you got him to speak! You're not half bad for a human! And we got what we needed. Come on, let's go tell the drow!” The torturer said to the other goblin before the two ran off.  Once they were gone Winnie glanced back at the man, battered and bruised. He appeared to have gone unconscious from the pain. Poor man.

She dropped her facade finally and took a deep breath. Winnie reached into her pack before taking out a healing potion.  She unscrewed the top before pressing the bottle to his lips and making him drink.  After downing the bottle the human began to come too, coughing as color returned to his face and his wounds slowly began to heal.  His eyes widened at the sight of the druid female and a look of fear washed over him.

“G-Get away! N-No more please!” He begged.

“Shh…Calm yourself. You're safe now.” Winnie said.

“Safe!? You nearly bloody killed me!” He raised his voice. Astarion and Shadowheart quickly looked around in case anyone was attracted by the noise.

“Silence him before he attracts the entire horde!” Lae'zel said between gritted teeth.

Winnie put a hand over his mouth.

“The goblins would have definitely killed you had I not shown up. Look, I don't have time for chatting, we're looking for a druid named Halsin. Tell us where he is and we'll free you.” She said before slowly removing her hand from his mouth.

“I-I don't know. He turned into a bear and we got separated. The goblins might have locked him in one of the cells, but I'm not sure.” 

“Well that's something to go on at least.” Winnie sighed before taking a lockpick from her pack and slowly beginning to pick the lock. 

“If you must free him. Do it quickly.” Shadowheart said as she looked over her shoulder. Winnie continued to fiddle with the lock, biting down on her lip, but even it broke.

“Shit.” The druid cursed.

“Gods, have you never picked a bloody lock before?” Astarion asked in annoyance before gently pushing Winnie to the side.

“Usually I just wild-shape and squeeze my way where I need to go.” Winnie admitted as she watched the high elf take out a pick before skillfully undoing the lock in a matter of seconds.

“Damn, you're good.” The human female exclaimed with an impressed grin.

“Obviously.” Astarion said smugly.  The human man dropped to the ground once free.

“Thank you…I should be able to make it to the grove on my own. Someone has to warn them.” He said.

“Best of luck to you.” Winnie nodded, before the man took off. 

The four adventurers went in the opposite direction of the human male, continuing their search for Halsin. Winnie took a long whiff of the air, but was unable to catch any hint of a bear’s scent. 

Nope, nothing but goblin stink. And maybe human entrails…

The party ventured further down the halls, eventually coming across a floor stained in blood with rats patrolling the grounds. Winnie noticed a strangely erotic dressed man cleaning a blood mace. His outfit somewhat reminded her of something she'd seen a courtesan wear at Sharess's Caress while she was there ‘borrowing’ literature. As her group wandered closer, the man took note of them. 

“Welcome child. Have you come to assist with the prisoner?” He asked. 

“Oh him? Nah they killed him before I got here.” Winnie bluffed. 

“Amateurs. Pain should be savored, cherished.” The man said.

“Uhh…..Okay….” Winnie said, a little creeped out.

“Forgive me. I am a priest of Loviatar, goddess of pain. We worship our lady through pain and it's intricacies.” 

“Can't say I've ever heard of her. Not really the religious type myself, but that does sound fascinating in a macabre way I suppose…” Winnie stated.

“If you're curious, I could show you first hand how we please our mistress.” He said. Winnie didn't really care for how he was staring at her.

“Oh, I must see this.~” Astarion said, almost sounding like he was about to moan. “Don't you dare say no.~” He looked at Winnie seductively.

“Yeah…..Not happening. I kinda try to avoid getting the shit beaten out of me. Thanks.” Winnie replied before turning to walk off.  Astarion pouted and followed after her. The two of them going ahead of Lae’zel and Shadowheart.

“Your loss, young one!” The strange man called.

“You really are no fun, you know darling?” Astarion sighed in disappointment.

“Astarion darling'' Winnie mocked, “if you want so badly for the creepy sadistic man to spank someone you are more than welcome to offer your own hind.” 

“I don't believe he ever said anything about spanking. Is that something you'd like to see?~” 

“You know what I meant!” Winnie snapped, face turning bright red with embarrassment. 

“Don't be so vicious. I was only teasing.” Astarion smirked, “although you do look absolutely delicious with your cheeks all flushed. Makes me rather hungry…” The vampire moved closer to Winnie, breath hitting the back of her neck.

“You're going to make a pass at me now?”

“Not exactly.” He clicked his tongue, “I merely wanted to remind you that I haven't forgotten how we were so rudely interrupted the other night.” Astarion moved some stray hairs behind Winnie’s ear. “And how wonderful your lips felt against mine.” He purred softly.  Winnie could feel her heart speed up.

“Maybe…Maybe it would be better if we forgot it…” She looked off to the side. 

“Oh come on, you can't mean that.” Astarion crossed his arms. “After all, you might never get a chance like this again.” He moved in front of Winnie, getting closer to her.

“Excuse me?” Winnie looked back at him with a raised eyebrow.

“You and I both know our days are numbered as long as we have these worms in our heads. Wait too long and you may never know what it's like to feel the touch of a lover. To feel my touch.” Astarion took Winnie’s hand and placed it on his chest.

Winnie shivered in arousal, and swallowed nervously, face feeling like it was on fire as her hand trembled against his muscles.

Oh gods. Man titties….I..er…FUCK!!!

Winnie pulled her hand back before her brain had the chance to turn off. Heat was rushing between her thighs, threatening to turn her mind to mush. She had to get it together! There were far more important things than sex right now!

“Would you quit with the flirting! This really isn't the time!” Winnie hissed before turning to continue walking through the temple. She did her best to ignore him from there on out.  As much as his honeyed words made heart skip a beat there was no time for it right now. 

~~~~~

The party made their way deep into the bowels of the goblin’s sanctum until eventually they came across the worg pens. Winnie’s nose almost instinctively sniffed as they entered the room. The unmistakable scent of a bear cut right through the foul stench of goblins. The bear looked like he was in one of the pens with two goblin children throwing rocks at him from outside the cage.

“Amicus Animalus.” Winnie quietly whispered the speak with animals incantation before they approached. She needed to make sure that this bear was actually the druid they were looking for and not some random animal. 

“Get back!” He seemed to growl at the goblins as one of them aimed a rock right at his head. 

“What the hells is going on down here?” Winnie demanded, eyes narrowed at the little brats. 

“We're throwing stones at this stupid bear!” 

“Makes funny noises when we hit em! Hahaha!” 

Winnie rolled her eyes before looking back at the bear. 

“Get rid of them!” He growled, voice rough and gravely “free me!” 

“Okay, that's enough.” Winnie glared down at the goblin children before knocking their heads together and knocking them out. The adult goblin who had currently been standing by turned towards the human.

“Oi! The hells are you doing!?” She shouted before drawing her bow. Winnie swiftly kicked her weapon from her hands before stabbing through her with her scimitar, the goblins blood spilling all over the floor.

“We're under attack!” One of the other goblins shouted.  

“I'll sound the alarm- '' Before another goblin could run for help Astarion shot an arrow right into his throat, making him drop dead.  

Winnie quickly shoved the body of the dead she-goblin out of the way before pulling a lever to release the bear from his pen. 

The bear quickly charged through the room before smacking a goblin clear into one of the walls. 

“Quick! Release the worgs!” Another goblin shouted before the second pen was opened and two huge wolf-like beasts emerged. 

“Fresh meat.” Winnie heard one of the worgs snarl darkly. It went charging towards her teeth barred.  Winnie quickly assumed her direwolf form and slammed into it head on. Both canines being about the same size gave them around the same estimate of power. 

The bear slammed into the other worg while Astarion, Lae'zel and Shadowheart fought off the remaining goblins in the room. 

After all of their adversaries had been dealt  and the strange bear both took a more humanoid form as Shadowheart tied up the unconscious goblin children to assure they wouldn't cause any trouble. 

The bear shifted into an oddly tall muscular wood elf which towered over Winnie. Her eyes widened as she looked him over, not expecting him to be so intimidatingly large.

He's big……

“Pardon the viscera. Nature's bounty should be cherished.” The elf exclaimed, wiping some stray goblin blood off his face. 

“You’re Halsin, I presume?” Winnie tilted her head curiously.  

“Yes. Did someone send you for me?” He asked.

“We heard you're a renowned healer and we definitely could use some healing.” Winnie said.

“The fact that you fought your way through goblins to find must mean it's urgent.” 

“It is. Very.” 

“Alright then. Let me have a look.”  Halsin leaned in closer, examining Winnie’s face.  Behind her right eye something was squirming, hiding. 

“Oak father preserve us. You're infected.” 

“Unfortunately.” The younger druid sighed.

“I must apologize, but I cannot cure this.” Halsin said sadly.

“What!? Oh, you must be joking! We did all this for nothing!” Astarion scoffed and crossed his arms.

“Skva! I told you we should have continued looking for the creché! Now we've wasted time!” Lae'zel hissed.

“If it would help I may know where you can find answers about your infection. The true souls, others who are infected like you have been taken to moonrise towers. You're more likely to find the cure you seek there.” Halsin explained.

“Perhaps you'd be willing to lend us a hand on getting there then? We did just save your life after all.” 

“I would, but these goblins are a threat to the emerald grove. I cannot go anywhere while their leaders still live.” 

Winnie thought for a moment. “Alright then. I'll help you kill all the goblin bosses and then you help my friends and I safely get to Moonrise Towers. Sound like a plan?” 

“What? Now we have to fight more of them?” Astarion whined.

“Quiet Star.” Winnie said before looking back at Halsin. 

“It won't be easy. We may have to slaughter the entire place just to kill the leaders.” 

“Ah don't worry. I had a few ideas while looking around the place.” Winnie assured him with a smirk.

Winnie transformed into a rat to stealthily sneak around the area and crawl down  into the pit where two giant spiders were held. She immediately had a nice friendly chat with them about how she'd free them and let them eat their fill of their goblin masters if they agreed to fight by her side. 

All the while Astarion and Shadowheart snuck back towards the front of the temple, using the high up wooden rafters to sneak around the temple unseen until coming across a secret room full of explosive barrels. 

Winnie had noticed some goblins rolling them off to another room when the party had first entered the temple earlier and made a mental note to remember them if need be. 

Astarion and Shadowheart rolled them over the rafters, taking as many as they could with them at a time.  Winnie quickly undid the locked door, allowing the spiders to escape out and begin attacking the goblins near the entrance.

She quickly climbed up to the rafters to meet up with Astarion and Shadowheart before turning human once again. The three then proceeded to light the barrels and drop them one the majority of the goblins past the spider pit all the while Lae'zel and Halsin fought their way through goblins and attacked one of the leaders, Minthara. 

Lae'zel was able to push her down into a chasm after narrowly avoiding some heavy blows. 

Once they reached the room where the hobgoblin leader was, Winnie quickly took her direwolf shape and charged down into the fray along with Shadowheart. Astarion stayed up in the rafters and sniped a few of their enemies from afar. 

It was a quick and bloody battle, but thanks to the spiders and explosives they ended up on the winning side.  

“You did it! You actually did it!” Halsin cheered as the last of the leaders laid dead. Winnie was still in wolf form panting.

“Yes, yes we saved your pitiful grove. Now agree to help us damnit!” Astarion crossed his arms with a sneer.

“I will honor our agreement, but we needn't leave immediately. I'll meet you at your camp tonight and we can set out come dawn.” Halsin agreed, making Astarion let out an annoyed sigh. 

~~~~~~~~

The four adventurers eventually regrouped with the other members of their merry band of weirdos and eventually headed back to the emerald grove to gather supplies and make camp for the night.

The tieflings ended up being so grateful for the defeat of the goblins that they actually joined the camp to celebrate.  Winnie wasn't exactly sure what to make of it honestly.

She'd hadn't been to any social gatherings since she was a kid. When she moved to Baldur's Gate as a teen there were never any opportunities for her to attend a party since she was basically a street rat whose only companions were a group of adventurers that had gotten in trouble with the Flaming Fists on one too many occasions. 

Needless to say she felt very out of place and just sat by the river, drawing in the dirt for the beginning of the party.  At least until Karlach spotted her. 

“Hey soldier!” She waved at the human female with a big toothy grin. “What are you doing over here?”

“Oh hey Karls. I'm just you know, getting some air.  All the people honestly make me feel a bit claustrophobic I guess.” Winnie shrugged.

“Oh come on! I think Gale was looking for you and Fangs is sitting alone pouting because you didn't come to see him.” 

“Oh Karlach you know darn well Astarion pouting could mean anything!” Winnie replied, giggling, “I think he started sulking the other when Shadow said his hair looked uneven on one side.” 

“You should still go see him. Maybe he'll give ya another kiss hm?” Karlach winked, tail wagging with excitement. 

Winnie’s face turned bright red. 

“I'm not sure. He was rather um…blunt about wanting more than that earlier…” 

“Isn't that a good thing? You should go for it! Go get some action for the both of us!” Karlach exclaimed.

“But I've never gotten action before! I don't know what I'm doing and I look like a fucking potato under these clothes!” Winnie huffed and looked down at the ground. 

“Mate, potatoes are fucking delicious! You can do this I know it and I can't get laid so I want you to go ride him for him for me! Now up!” Karlach said, grabbing a large broken branch and nudging Winnie along with it so she wouldn't burn her. 

“But I don't wanna top…” Winnie muttered under her breath. Eventually she caved in and walked off to join the others at the party so Karlach wouldn't push her all the way to Astarion herself.

She took a deep breath and glanced about.  

The camp was full of tieflings, some were chatting over the fire and Winnie took notice of one lovely looking one who appeared to be trying to make conversation with Astarion. Winnie rolled her eyes. 

Pouting because I didn't come to see him, my ass.

The young druid walked off in the direction towards Gale's tent, taking note that Wyll who's tent was right beside the wizard’s appeared to be missing from the party. 

“There you are. I was looking for you.” Gale suddenly piped up. 

“Oh hey Gale…What's up?” Winnie gave a small smile.

“I wanted to congratulate you. You did a great thing, saving the refugees.” 

“I just did what was necessary. But I'm very glad they're alright. Goblins attacking a druid’s grove honestly it's too…” Winnie trailed off, unpleasant memories flooding her mind. “Um….Why was it  you were looking for me again?” 

“Ah right! I was wondering if you'd like to join me later this evening. I was hoping I could show you something rather….magical…”

“Hm…Magic does sound fun….But I don't know I haven't really decided if I want to really do anything later. I'm kinda tired from all the fighting ya know?” Winnie scratched the back of her head.

“I completely understand! Take all the rest you need! You've earned it.” Gale said.

“Thanks, maybe next time okay?” Winnie gave him a sweet smile before turning to walk off.

“Of course!” Gale called. 

The human druid let out a sigh before suddenly one of the tiefling girls ran over towards her.

“For the hero of the hour!” She cheered and patted Winnie's back before handing her a cup of wine. The brunette haired female mouthed a shy thanks before taking the cup and drinking from it. 

Her pink eyes looked over to still see the vampire sitting there. A look of discomfort was clear on his face. Winnie finally caved in and began to approach him. “Hey Star…. How's it going?” Winnie asked.

“Ugh it's so dull. I do all this hard work and how am I repaid? This cheap sewer water.” He scoffed and glanced down at the wine bottle he held in his hand. Winnie took the bottle of wine from it and gave it a sniff. It smelled normal enough. She gave it a taste. A bit bitter. Winnie herself much preferred sweet wines, but she didn't see anything abnormally bad tasting about it. She considered going to get a jar of blood she'd found in the goblin camp earlier that day, but Astarion spoke before she could offer.

“Honestly I don't know how you find any joy in playing the hero. It's awful.” Astarion huffed and took the bottle back.

“Awe come on, it's not THAT bad. You got to kill plenty of goblins! And you looked so badass when you hit that hobgoblin in the eye with an arrow!”  Winnie exclaimed.

“Perhaps. Slaughtering all the little vermin was rather enjoyable, but it still doesn't make up for this piss poor excuse for a party.” Astarion sighed, “I’m just looking for a little more excitement. A little more fun.” Astarion gave Winnie a seductive look for a moment before it vanished.

“I was hoping you'd join me this evening, but it looks like Gale has already caught your attention.” Astarion rolled his eyes. The way he said the wizard’s name almost sounded a little disgusted.

“We just talked. He wanted to hang out later and show me a magic trick.” Winnie insisted.

“Oh yes I'm sure a night with him would be very magical.” 

“What do you mean?” Winnie asked.

“Oh you're so adorably innocent. Obviously he wanted to show you his staff, darling.” Astarion said in a teasing tone.

It took Winnie a moment before she turned bright red. “I-I…Didn't think he'd meant that! I'm.. I'm really not interested in him in that way…” 

“Good. Then you still have a chance to make the most of your evening. Wait until things quiet down and come find me out in the forest.” Astarion looked off to the side, red eyes looking directly at the woodland area past the river. “There we can spend some quality time together and pick up where we left off before the others so rudely interrupted us the other night.” Astarion purred out.  

“Gods, you're persistent…Alright. I guess I'll meet you there.” Winnie gave in. She couldn't help but think back to what he said in the goblin temple. They really could die any day now, so why not just get it over with and have her first time be with a vampire. It would at least be something to brag about when this was all over and they went their separate ways.  But there was still the gnawing anxiety of her insecurities. The worry that once he saw her, all of her, he'd be disgusted and back out.  

“Wonderful. I'll meet you there once the others have turned in. See you there, lover.~” 

~~~~~

As Winnie waited for her other companions to head to bed she carefully and quietly made some preparations, watching as the tieflings left one by one back to their own camp for the night. The sound of music and laughter that had previously filled the air had died down. Winnie grabbed hold of her pack as she knelt underneath the shady tree she kept her bedroll under. She held a jar of (maybe human?) blood and a bottle of sweet dessert wine she ‘borrowed’ from someone at the grove. She packed the refreshments along with two glass chalices, some blankets and her bedroll into her pack. Once the druid noticed Astarion had left and the others had entered their tents she slung her pack over her shoulder and made her way towards the river.  Winnie carefully hopped across a long and some stones before reaching the other side and wandering off into the forest. 

She sniffed, attempting to pinpoint Astarion's scent so she'd be able to find him quickly. The smell of bergamot, rosemary, brandy and just the faintest hint of death lead her deeper and deeper into the woods.  

Eventually once she got further enough away from camp Astarion stepped out into the open. 

His perfect pale skin was exposed as he appeared to have discarded his shirt before Winnie had even got there. 

“There you are. I've been waiting….Waiting since the moment I first-” 

Winnie let out a loud sigh before dropping her comically large backpack she'd filled to the brim with junk. She panted a little before looking up at Astarion.

“Sorry, that was just kinda heavy.” She rubbed her back before bending over to open up her pack.

“Uh….Why the hells did you bring that?” Astarion asked, crossing his arms. He was slightly annoyed Winnie had interrupted his dramatic seductive line! 

“I wanted to make sure we'd be comfortable.” Winnie said honestly before taking out a large rolled up bear pelt blanket. She took out her bedroll and placed it over the pelt before adding two other blankets over it. Then the druid sat her pack down on the pelt before sitting.  The assortment she'd laid out had made a nice cushy bedding. Winnie sat down on her bedroll before looking up at Astarion, patting the space besides her shyly.  

“Come on I uh…I got you something…” She said, Astarion hesitated almost as if he pondered the possibility of this being some kind of trap before taking a seat beside the human female.  

Winnie took out the chalices along with the blood and wine. “I found this at the goblin camp and I couldn't help but think about you…You know cause I can't always give you blood and it would be nice to have some lying around for you to drink…” Winnie said, voice speeding up nervously as her face reddened. 

“How…romantic.~” Astarion’s seductive demeanor returned as he scooted close to Winnie, trailing a clawed finger over her thigh. 

“I-I suppose it is…..I…I…Is it hot in here!?” Winnie felt her face a bit before quickly pouring a glass of wine and drinking it. Astarion looked at her wide eyes as she suddenly realized something….

That was not wine. 

Winnie immediately spat out blood onto the grass, holding back the urge to gag. Astarion covered his mouth, his lips curling up into a shit eating grin from behind his hand. It took everything he had not to burst into laughter at the druid’s stupidity. She wiped her mouth and huffed. 

“AH! Why is this so hard!?” She covered her face in embarrassment. “I'm sorry Astarion. I really don't know what I'm doing…I want this, but I don't have any idea what to do or say…” 

“Darling, relax, let me take care of you…” The elven vampire suddenly leaned in and slowly licked a bit of blood off the side of Winnie’s mouth. He then took the chalice from her hand and tossed it off to the side. Winnie took a deep breath. 

“Okay…I'm just nervous…” She looked off to the side.

“I'll be gentle, my pet.” Astarion cupped her cheek, tilting her head back to face him. His red eyes stared fondly into her own before she eventually closed them and leaned in. Astarion wasted no time pressing his soft cool lips against Winnie’s warmer ones, receiving a soft moan as his lips moved against hers. The vampire sucked slightly on them before he teasingly nipped her bottom lip with a fang. 

“Mmm!” She moaned, allowing him to slide his tongue into her mouth and deepen the kiss. 

Winnie could feel herself melting under his touch, sucking on his tongue as it nearly slid down her throat. She tried to keep her moans from getting too loud, but it only became harder as one of his hands cupped her right breast. It felt so plump, so soft. He was about ready to tear her shirt open. The elf squeezed it gently, his thumb sliding over the top of her breast, feeling over the smoothness of her exposed skin. 

Winnie eventually pulled back for air, his tongue quickly flicking over her own as they parted. Despite the fact that it had been revolting for her, the leftover taste of blood in her mouth was actually quite the treat for a vampire. 

Winnie flinched as his hands moved towards the buttons of her shirt, causing Astarion to come to an immediate halt and back up.“What is it, pet? Is something the matter?” He asked as a frown formed upon his lips.

“I’m afraid you won't like what you see….” The druid muttered, voice full of shame.  This was it. This was when he would change his mind and call it all off. 

“Oh sweetie, I've bedded far worse, trust me. And you don't even come anywhere close to any of them.” He gave her a wink before standing up. Winnie was a bit confused as he held out his hand for her. She took it and stood up.

“Look at me, lover.” He purred, planting a kiss on her lips before moving her hands towards his belt. Winnie took a deep breath, trying to ease her nervousness before she undid his belt, slowly pulling his pants down. There was an evidently large bulge growing in his underwear which immediately made Winnie’s face burn brightly. She kept her eyes locked with his before continuing to strip him bare. His underwear dropped to the ground, letting his erection spring free. Astarion took her smaller hands into his own, placing one on his chest and and the other on his ass. “I'm not going anywhere. Not until I've nibbled on every inch of this,” Astarion pulled her against him, his hands gripped her ass, making her squeak “lovely body.” 

She gasped, she could feel his hard cock poking her through her pants. Her hand reactively squeezed his ass, resulting in the vampiric letting outa soft husky moan. Winnie furrowed her brows with a huff.

Fuck it.

She quickly moved to pull her shirt off over her head, tossing it over to the side before unhooking her bra. Astarion grinned, tongue flicking over his fangs before he immediately attached his mouth to one of her tits, sucking and licking around her nipple. 

“A-Ahh…” Winnie moaned feeling his fangs gently graze her breasts, hands roaming her form before pulling her down her pants.

“O-Oh gods!” Her legs shook, feeling him rub her through her underwear. Winnie tried to grip onto him for balance, but her legs buckled, sending them both tumbling back onto the cushion of the blankets with Astarion on top. He breathed out with a smirk, an almost feral look was on his eyes as his mouth moved up to Winnie’s immediately capturing her lips in another kiss.  His hand remained between her legs, now eagerly working to pull her underwear off before he slid a single finger into her cunt. 

“Mmm!” She moaned loudly into his mouth, feeling his digit begin pumping in and out of her, slowly speeding up with each thrust. He was gentle, but made sure push up against all the right spots in order to drive her nuts. Her hands gripped his back, nails digging into his skin as he added another finger, pushing them both in deep while his thumb rubbed back and forth over her clit. “A-Astarion!” The druid whimpered, pulling her head back. 

“Shhh..Pet they'll hear you from all the way back at camp.” He teased, scissoring his fingers as he pumped them back and forth inside her. His digits were soaked from how wet she was getting. She whined, burying her face into the side of his neck as she moaned his name again his skin.  

“Star please!” The female whimpered into his neck, her lips pressed against it almost as if it were a kiss.

“Oh alright because asked so nicely.” Astarion pulled his finger from inside her, resulting in another whimper as he stared her right in the eyes and slowly sucked his fingers clean, pulling each of them out slowly with pop sound. 

He then reached back down and grabbed hold of his cock, rubbing it slowly with a moan as his eyes stayed locked on Winnie. She bit her lip in frustration. He seemed to be going awfully slow on purpose. 

Fucking tease.

Once he deemed himself prepared, he lined himself up with her entrance. 

“Now, if it hurts too much, be a good girl and let me know.” Astarion said, keeping his tip at her entrance as he waited for her to respond.

“Okay…I'm ready.” Winnie nodded before feeling his slowly push in.  She gritted her teeth and grunted feeling a sharp stinging pain as he stretched her out. 

“A-Ahh….” Her fingernails dug into his shoulders and she bit down hard on her lip until it bled. Astarion groaned feeling her tight walls clench around him almost painfully tight as he pushed his full length inside. 

“Fuck…” He breathed out, cock twitching inside her.

“Star…” Winnie looked up at him, her hips bucking upwards with need. Astarion’s lips twitched upwards and he immediately began to move inside her. Winnie wrapped her arms around his torso almost as if hugging him against her as the slick wet sounds of him pumping in and out filled hear ears. 

“Y-Yes…Please….Keep going…” She said, as he sped up, hips slapping against her now. Winnie bit down on the biteless side of his neck in an attempt to quiet her moans.  

Eventually however as he slammed harder and harder into her she unable to keep quiet any longer eventually giving up all together as she reached her climax. 

“Astarion! Bite me! Please!” Winnie cried out. 

“Huh? What?” Astarion asked as if suddenly pulled out of a trance. Winnie turned her head and exposed her neck.

“I want you to bite me, now.” She said. 

“Gods yes…” He practically moaned before quickly sinking his fangs into her flesh. Winnie cried out in a mixture of pain and pleasure. She could feel his thrusts slam even harder now that he had a taste of her blood. 

One of her hands roughly gripped his ass, her eyes rolled back into her head as she felt herself come undone. Her vampiric lover eventually following after her, his cock throbbing as he emptied himself completely inside her.  

Soon after the two found themselves resting upon the nest of blankets Winnie had been so generous to bring along. Astarion laid on his back, arms resting behind his head and one of his legs crossed over the other as his plump druid lover laid her head on his chest. She kept a blanket wrapped around her, still not quite comfortable leaving her bodice fully exposed. 

“Did you enjoy it?” Winnie asked in an almost mouse like voice.

“Hm? Yes, of course.” Astarion replied, staring up at the night sky.

“You sure? You just seemed a bit distant half of the time.” Winnie shifted a little. 

“Winnie, you were fine. We'll have plenty of time to practice later.” Astarion hummed. He seemed rather eager to dismiss the subject.

“You mean….You're interested in doing this again?” Winnie asked in confusion.

“With a delicious little plaything like you? Why not!” He chuckled a bit.

Oh…He thinks of me as a plaything….

Winnie frowned. She knew this was just supposed to be about sex, but for some reason it still hurt to be reminded of it. She let out a sigh before rolling over and facing away from him.  Astarion glanced over as soon as he felt her move away. He felt a slight disappointment at her retreat, but couldn't for the life of him understand why. 

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~••~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Note from The ChaoticDruid: This took so long to finish! I'm glad it's done and I hope my attempt at writing detailed smut wasn't too shitty. I'm honestly thinking of writing more fics with Astarion and Winnie that are set during the game's campaign! If anyone wants to request a romance scene from the game for me to recreate with Winnie just send me an ask I guess. I'm up for that. Might take a while though. I'm tired now. BYEEEEE.

[annaizscribbling]

In which the farmer is not quite human. Pt 2: Willy

Willy pulled his old wool coat a little closer to his chest. That battered old flannel had seen more years than some of the younger folk in town. They just didn’t make coats like that anymore.  The ocean air was bitingly cold. The fish weren’t really biting today, but he’d stay out until dinner time. He wasn’t the type of man to mix up his routine; even when the fish were being stubborn. The ocean never claimed to be predictable, or even kind. It owed him nothing. Willy simply knew how to withstand the tide.

He doesn’t notice the sound of rhythmic footsteps over the crashing waves. The farmer approaches.

“Ahoy there, Lass,” Willy says gruffly, nodding at her as she walks up.

The farmer smiled at him. She wasn’t much of a talker, that girl. Usually, she just nods or shakes her head, unless she’s really got something to say. Her tanned skin and calloused hands echoed her occupation. Through sheer willpower she managed to jumpstart the local economy through her farming, mining, foraging, and of course her fishing. The farmer was a good fisherman. Well. Fisherwoman, he supposed. She recently got hitched to Robin’s son, the sickly lad. They seemed happy though.

 “It’s late,” Willy says, rebaiting his hook for the umpteenth time, “don’t you farmer have to get up early?”

With another smile, the farmer just shrugged. Young people. Never stop long enough to hear themselves think, Willy supposed. Though perhaps the farmer girl wasn’t quite the same.

Another cold breeze swept over the waters. Willy bit back a shiver.

The farmer did not react to the cold. In fact, she was in a thin knit shirt, not equipped with sleeves, and decorated with a pattern reminiscent of a ribcage. That and a pair of baggy cargo pants. It was hardly winter attire. She didn’t have on so much as a hat or a pair of gloves, yet here she was, fishing beside him.

She threw her line in the water, without even baiting it. She just cast her line. Granted, it was excellent cast, going an impressive number of yards out. But still, it was a plain hook. She wouldn’t catch a damn thing.

“Come on, Lass. No bait?” Willy said with a raised an eyebrow.

The farmer stretched her neck, keeping a careful watch on her line. “Forgot it,” she said simply.

Willy shook his head; he’d taught her better than that. Maybe the cold was getting to her head. She was never going to catch any—

The farmer began to get a sharp pull on her line, carefully, masterfully even, she began reeling in a fish with precision. In less than a minute she held aloft an albacore. A massive one.

Willy stared at her.

“… good catch,” Willy said after a long pause.

She just nodded once, before throwing another baitless hook into the water. Willy just watched her, not exactly paying much attention to his own line anymore. Sure, the farmer was an odd little duck, and he was fond of her, but sometimes …

Sometimes he wasn’t so sure what she was. He can only chalk up so many things to the fact she used to be a city girl. City girls don’t spend six hours digging up clay on the beach for no apparent reason. They don’t fell half a forest in an afternoon, or remain forever untouched by the elements or fatigue. Harvey once told him at Gus’s that occasionally she’ll collapse in the mines, covered in slime and monster blood. She’ll return in the morning more often than not. It’s the only time either of them had ever seen her anything other than wide awake and energized,

Willy snaps out of his thoughts when he sees her rummaging in her bag out of the corner of his eyes. The farmer pulls out an uncovered bowl of soup and a raw leek. She quickly devours both things. Willy doesn’t ask any questions. If there are answers to be given, it isn’t his business.

They fish in silence, with Willy scoring a catch and the farmer catching six more fish of her own.

He’s done asking questions. She’s a great fishing companion. She respects the water. Willy’s leaving it there.

Part one

[smolvenger]

Court of Mischief and Purpose Chapter 22 (Loki x Fem Reader Crossover Series, Court of Thorns and Roses AU)

Series Summary: Sarah J Maas's A Court of Thorns and Roses series reimagined with Tom Hiddleston's various characters- Especially the events in the second book, A Court of Mist and Fury and onwards. England. 1885. You are dying of tuberculosis right before your upcoming wedding to the Lusty Vicar of Aldwinter, Will Ransome. As you lay on what could be your deathbed, the god of mischief Loki appears before you with a deal. He will heal you in time for the wedding...if you spend a week of every month with him.

Chapter Summary: Being invited to a dinner party, you and your companions seize the chance to get the first trove.

Series Masterlist

Word Count: >4K

Warnings: Some spicy flirting, but no actual smut. Not much, some angst. Greif and mentions of bullying. If I miss anything, let me know! Proceed with caution, but I take full responsibility for how I portray dark subject matter and if it is not done tastefully or well. If I miss anything that could be triggering, it is your responsibility to tell me as soon as possible so I can tag it here. Otherwise, enjoy!

A/N: I have had major writer's block since moving into an apartment and starting grad school, but maybe something will come up and I will be blocked from Character AI bc I waste all of my time there now. Anyways, it is not perfect, but I just wanted it done. Ta da!

Taglist: @evelyn-kingsley@jennyggggrrr@five-miles-over@fictive-sl0th@ladycamillewrites@villainousshakespeare@holdmytesseract@eleniblue@twhxhck@lokisgoodgirl@lovelysizzlingbluebird@raqnarokr@holymultiplefandomsbatman@michelleleewise@wolfsmom1@cheekyscamp@mochie85@fandxmslxt69@skittslackoffilter@mischief2sarawr @asgards-princess-of-mischief

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

You, Edith, your husband, Stella, and Sif huddled on a cafe table. The building was painted in pastel greens and pinks, with wide windows filtering in sunlight as guests chatted around all of you. But it was not so noisy that one could not focus on the manuscript. Edith sat at the other end, nervously drinking her coffee, her sandwich untouched. The rest of you huddled together tight to read it together, Sif being the one to turn the pages. 

Loki did raise his eyebrow at a few points, Stella’s bulged out. Sif only had no facial reaction.

Edith’s story was about a ghost who haunted a woman in her home. She added details of the dark house and creaking wood. Of the ghost's skeletal fingers, a skull-like face was blank except for a wide mouth, open with sharp teeth. The characters seemed as real as flesh, with little details that only someone who observed others could make. At one point, the woman was asleep when the ghost screamed. The noise rattled the house and would not stop, waking the woman up in fright. It made you shiver. 

The heroine had a past, as did the house, but it was not revealed. As you got to the end of the snippet, you were eager to know the truth, but Sif set the pages down on the table.

“Miss Cushing, that was incredible!” Stella cried, a hand over her heart. Perhaps it was still racing from the terror of the story.

Edith nodded with a smile, a blush coming up on her.

“Oh, thank you!” she replied. She sat up straighter, and her voice brighter.

“I had chills!” you added on.

“It…wasn’t bad at all,” Loki admitted.

“Well, when I was young. I saw something- and heard noises. I believe I encountered a ghost. I never forgot it,” she admitted. “Father never believed me, only a friend did.”

“A ghost?” Sif asked, she folded her arms.

Edith reached over. She carefully put her papers into the folder and wrapped her arms around it like a baby.

“Yes.” was all she said.

“And has this ghost been to you since, Miss Cushing?” Loki asked.

Edith set down the folder.

“No…. I wrote to explore that. I had an idea and it would never leave me. It was like a fever- I had to write it down. Besides, I always loved stories and books…Mama was the only woman I knew who loved them too and then she…she passed.”

She slumped, her eyes growing vacant. Stella reached out and held her hand.

“She would be proud of you now. Creating something and putting it out there, takes great courage,” you consoled.

A small smile flickered on Edith.

“When did she pass?” asked Stella.

“When I was ten,” answered Edith.

“All this while still a child? You poor thing!” replied Stella.

Edith let out a deep sigh.

“I hope you get published. There are women writers out there- you will be one of them in enough time if you keep at it,” you encouraged her.

“Thank you I…” there were tears in her eyes.

“Oh, is something wrong? We didn’t- offend you?” you asked. Digging into your reticule, you pulled out a handkerchief. Edith gripped onto it, twisting it anxiously.

“It’s only…I…I…” began Edith.

She hesitated. Her lips quivering, then she hung her head low and began her confession.

“No, you didn’t offend me at all, it’s only…I…I hated girls my age. When I was little, I was so obsessed with all those things- ghosts, death, books, novels. I struggled to relate to them when I was little because I just wanted to talk about what I was reading. They didn’t even…try to make room for me. I was excluded. I misunderstood their games and their words. I tried so hard, but it was never good enough. And as a child they-they…”

She paused.

“Mrs. McMichael’s daughter Eunice and her friends always bullied me. They brought me along to be their fool, something to kick at. And I…I just felt so alone…I always did…I didn’t like them. They laughed at me. Teased me. Locked me in rooms. Called me names. And even now that we’re grown…they still keep at it. And I always have to spend time with them. Trying to discuss ribbons at least and dealing with their jabs at most. And Mrs. McMichael…she…I’m always so scared I will say something wrong, something bad…and they’ll laugh at me again. I try so hard to be nice to them. To not strike back because it will only make things worse. But…I could never be myself. But even when I barely said anything,  they would always find a way to insult me. To make me less. I didn’t want to go to balls. Go to anything. I didn’t want to go somewhere where I’d be a figure of scorn…and I was…I was always alone…”

“They’re cowards and fools,” Sif spat.

Edith smiled at that, wiping a few small tears with the handkerchief. 

“Yes, they are. But…not since…since now I…I never could speak to anyone other than Michael, much less another woman, and I…I…” she babbled.

She smiled lightly, her tears still in her small eyes. 

“Not until today. When I met all of you,” she completed.

“I guess we can all consider each other friends. And I’m glad to have you as one, Edith” you replied.

Edith then handed the handkerchief back, her face pink.

“Oh goodness, I just cried in public,” she sighed.

“It’s alright, it was rather small,” Stella assured her with a smile.

There was a small pause. Edith had gathered herself. Her appetite returned and she ate her sandwich. Topics went back and forth as the mood lightened. As the bill was paid, she turned to the rest of you.

“Oh- there is a dinner party later this week at my place. Father and I are hosting. It’s going to be a smaller, intimate affair but he said I could invite anyone I wanted…But…could I invite all of you?” she asked.

Loki raised an eyebrow.

“I think that-”

Clutching his hand, you cut in, interrupting him with an enthusiastic smile.

“We would love to be invited! Can my husband’s friends come too? In total- that should make eight of us, if you have the seats!” you replied.

Loki looked at you, but you squeezed his fist, signaling him to not speak. 

“Yes, of course!” Edith promised. “Where are all of you staying.”

This time, you turned to Loki. He replied that his friend Mr. Pine found a hotel for all of them and that the RSVPs could be forwarded to the address and hotel rooms. Edith vowed to do so, scribbling the address on paper and saying the invites would arrive shortly. Saying your goodbyes, she then left the cafe with a bounce in her step.

Once the door closed, Loki flipped his face to all of you. 

“What in the seven hels is going to a Midgard banquet going to accomplish?” he asked.

“That banquet is exactly where we need to be,” Sif replied. She made glares here and there to make sure no mortal was watching. Or a possible spy. 

“What?” he asked, his brow furrowing.

“Edith has the ring. YN’s powers sensed it,” Stella explained.

“It’s in her house,” you added. “And unless you know how to break into a house tonight and not raise any suspicions with Edith, go ahead and say so.

Loki let out an exhale. His face relaxed.

“Oh…well then… we got lucky. Too lucky. To think me and the variants did all of that foolish searching when our dear, fair ladies walked right into it!” he commented.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The invitations arrived on notes the color of snow. The days seemed long and slow before the evening of the fateful dinner party arrived. Five of you, it was noted, all had similar faces and voices, the variants all agreed to tell others that they were distant relations in case someone asked questions. The men donned evening tuxedos. You were in a rich, dark green gown, Stella her sky blue, and Sif one of wine red.

“I should go. I want to be in the search. And I don’t want to be stuck where it’s dull,” Sif insisted.

“I’ll go with you, you need my powers to find the ring. And if Grendel were to strike, he wouldn’t do it in the middle of a crowded party,” you nodded.

It was then decided. You and Sif would look, while the rest distracted the hosts and partygoers.

Your cabs pulled up to the house. As servants took your coats and escorted you inside, you noted the light wood, the grandfather clock and mirrors, and the elaborate glass windows. Warm, light, and sweet.

“One would think this is like a fairy house.,” Thomas commented, looking about.

There were footsteps and distant chatter of a few guests. Then in came Edith, dressed in a cream dress with ruffles at the long neck and sleeves.

“Oh! Our party! Hello- welcome!” she greeted.

All of you exchanged greetings and names, ever polite and gracious to the strangers in your party. She smiled at you and the ones she met, and then she shook hands with Hal, Jonathan, Robert…

She paused with Thomas, locking eyes with her. She partially froze. Her smile dropped. Then she found herself again, her eyes flicking down and then back up.

“And you, sir?” she asked.

“Sir Thomas Sharpe, esquire. And Miss Cushing- and I hear you are a talented writer, too, I presume?” he asked. He smiled back. But it was different than the merely happy-to-be-here-please-don’t-suspect-a-thing manners of the others. His eyes shined on her. 

“Yes..yes, I am,” she admitted shyly. Though you could see her cheeks were pink.

“And of ghost stories, I heard?” he added.

“Oh- yes, that is my specialty,” she answered. She beamed at him like there was no one else in the party.

“Well then, I have a particular fondness for them. You must promise to let me read it, and if not- then tell me every last little detail about it,” he said.

She nodded and said she would. Then the door opened with a couple that just came in and she excused herself to greet them, but not before looking at Thomas one last time.

“Ah, the large party,” said a baritone voice.

There entered an older man, tall and broad with an impressive, grey beard. He smiled at each of you. But he turned to you, Sif, and Stella first.

“And you three are the ones who defended my daughter against the notorious Mrs. McMichael, yes?” he asked.

“Yes, we were the ones present,” you answered.

“Well then, I will always offer my warmest gratitude. Mrs. McMichael is fond of kicking the hornet's nest, we shall say,” he replied. 

He reached out his hand and you shook it, his skin calloused. “I am Mr. Cushing.”

Edith led you down the short hall to the dining room. There were lit candles everywhere, making the scene lush and romantic. The table was set with a white cloth and vases of flowers and candelabras. The place was decorated with tall china cabinets, a stone fireplace, and a wall with tall windows. Appetizers were served on porcelain.  Water was served in one glass and wine in another. 

You waited through the courses. Engaging in topics as they came and went. The men seemed to all be doing fine. Though there were a few odd questions about the “business trip” and how they were related, Loki came up with lies on the spot to satisfy them. Sif held her posture uptight and helped herself to the main course, eating heartily and quickly. Stella cut up her chicken into small bits and always smiled.  Edith and Thomas exchanged several glances and smiles, even when others were talking.

“Why, this is such a beautiful place, Miss Cushing! And what an elegant cake!” Stella praised as dessert arrived.

“Oh, thank you. The cook has never failed us once. Wait until you try a bite!” Edith said.

Taking in a deep breath, you calmed yourself. You made your jaw unclench and relaxed your shoulders. Focusing on the blank white of the tablecloth, you reached out your senses.

Ignoring the sounds of eating and sipping, the whispering of servants, you focused on the ring. Something was pulling you above the stairs. Edith’s bedroom was down that hall. It poked at you like an insistent child.

But where exactly was-

“And Mrs Laufeyson, how did you meet your husband?” asked Mr. Cushing.

Snapping back to the present, you looked up and smiled.

“Oh…I was dreadfully ill. And he heard of me and offered his help to make sure I had medical care. He saved my life…”

You turned to Loki.

“And not just my body, far more than that” she replied.

Loki sat up, his jaw a little loose. Then he smiled.

“Oh, how romantic!’ cried one guest.

Taking a bite of cake, you found it was layered, delicate, and sweet. 

Slices were eaten and servants cleared plates. Some ladies went to one parlor and the men were trickling to another, but there were exceptions. Edith and Thomas were by the fire, talking and chatting- you even saw Edith laugh lightly. It was Jonathan who walked up to the host himself, Mr. Cushing, and was asking him about his business. Loki was beside him, in case any gaps needed filling. The rest of the men had the other variants, content to drink brandy and smoke, and seem innocent. Stella was listening intently to old ladies gossip, as they led her to the drawing room.

Loki then went up to you.

“Ah, and is it time?” he asked.

“Yes, it is,” you answered him quietly.

You shared a look at Sif. She nodded her head. 

Both of you walked over to a far corner.

Loki raised his hand and two duplicates of you both appeared. Your husband smirked.

“Ah, now two of my lovely wife? Our nights could become a lot more interesting…” he whispered.

“Oh, stop it!” you teased.

He raised an eyebrow.

“But would you like a duplicate of me? Hm? To have two of your trickster god worshiping you at once? Pleasuring you until you couldn’t remember your name?” he whispered.

Feeling your toes curl in your shoes, you lightly swatted his arm.

“If my husband could control his lust for one hour, we have a ring to find,” you reminded him.

He gave you a wink, and then walked away with the duplicates to join the other men.

Making sure your steps were light, you both picked up your skirts and scurried up the steps. The servants were too busy with the party to take note. But you couldn’t waste time before one of them saw something.

You quickened to Edith’s room at the end of the hall. Reaching out your hand, you made sure it unlocked and got inside.

Turning around, you made sure the door was quietly closed and locked.

It was dark from the night, and full of books and childhood toys. Both of you eyed around.

“Use your gifts, find where it is!” Sif insisted.

Taking in another breath, you readied yourself. Ready to reach out your gifts and-

The door creaked open.

Both of you turned around.

The door opened by itself. The door handle still clicking up and down. It was a warm night and warm from the many people. But the room itself had turned cold. Uncomfortably cold.

“What-what is that?” you asked. Feeling the color drain from your face.

“The windows are closed- there is no wind” observed Sif. 

A figure emerged at the end of the hall, hidden by the shadows.

A servant? No-this wasn’t a servant. It was a tall figure, dressed in black with a long, black veil as if in mourning. But there were no widows in the party guests, much less one dressed like that.

The woman moved over.

No- she didn’t move…

She glided over.

In a heartbeat, there was a gust of cold wind and she flew over. Her veiled face, you realized, was nothing more than a pitch-black skull. Hollow eye sockets. Black pitch dripped over her skeletal features.

She let out a scream before either of you could.

The specter flew over and grabbed you both by each arm. Reaching out, you saw her hands were only bones. Her touch was so cold, it numbed your skin. She shook both of you.

“THIEVES! THEIVES! THEIVES!” she screeched. 

She threw both of you. You and Sif hit a wall and then fell onto the floor. You let out a sound despite yourself, catching yourself onto the rug below.

Sif reached her hand and put it over your mouth. 

“If you scream, the servants and guests will come up,” she argued.

You had to bite your tongue. The lights in the room flickered on and off rapidly. The temperature was freezing in that room, and the specter pointed a bony finger toward you.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE? STAY AWAY FROM HER! BURGLARS! THEIVES!” the spectre hissed.

You removed Sif’s hand, though kneeling, you were shaking. Books toppled from a bookshelf and papers on a desk flew about.

“Who are you? Are allied with Grendel?” you asked in a quiet voice.

The Spectre did not react. She only kept screeching.

“DO NOT LAY A HAND ON HER! BURGLAR!”

Sif unsheathed her sword.

“Grendel, no doubt. Something of his,” she muttered.

Sif ran forward, and with a grunt, she stabbed the woman through the stomach.

But there was no blood. And the specter did not budge. She did not seem the least bit hurt in any way.

She let out another scream- an ugly sound, like a broken sob, one that almost tore you.

Sif’s jaw hung open in surprise. The specter grabbed Sif by the throat.

“DO-NOT-TOUCH-HER!” it warned.

Sif struggled and tried to loosen, but the specter held on tight.

The memories of Edith at the cafe went back to you. It made sense- Edith saw a ghost when she was very young…she must have seen it here…it must have been right after…after she lost…

Everything made sense.

With shaky legs, you got back up and stated.

“I know who you are…you’re Mrs. Cushing- you’re Edith’s mother!” you declared.

The ghost paused, turning her skeletal face to you. The wind in the room vanished.

“We are not here to hurt your daughter- and that is my friend. We are here to help her, please let her go,” you asked.

The ghost released her skeletal hand. Sif fell to the floor, coughing and gasping in the air. You rushed forward and helped her.

“There is a ring Edith has…and it’s one of Grendel’s. It looks like this…” you began. From your pocket, you got out the copy.

The ghost looked at it.

“Do you know who Grendel is? His mortality is stuck in a few items. Including a ring like this. If he remains in power…he could hurt Edith. If we find the ring and destroy it, then he’ll be destroyed…Please…you only want to protect her. That’s why you were always watching over her, all that time she thought she was alone…and she was not. Could you help us?”

The ghost looked at you. It exhaled, the shadows around it flittering.

She took her finger and pointed to a chest. A drawer opened. And out floated a locked box. It unlocked and then floated over to your hands.

Looking inside were a few jewelry items…including that very ring.

You looked up at her.

“Thank you,” you said.

Sif plucked out the ring. You replaced it with the duplicate ring, setting in within the few earrings and trinkets.

The small box floated up, locked, and then was put in the drawer, where it shut.

The ghost let out another sound, like an exhale and a moan. The papers shuddered again and the grandfather in the clock rang the hour.

Then the shadows vanished, as did the ghost. Warmth returned to the room again, as did the light.

You cupped your mouth again, catching your breath.

“Oh…oh gods…” you whispered.

Sif pocketed the ring. Without saying a word, she looked at you and grabbed your hand.

“Hurry, princess,” she urged.

Both of you shuffled at once out of the room. Downstairs, the party remained as normal. It was as if no one heard any screams or rattling coming from upstairs.

Steps light, desperate to escape the scene, both you and Sif hurried out of the room. Your feet light. So there wasn’t a rumble as you went across the hall. Down the stairs. Squeezing your eyes shut to concentrate, you signaled Loki.

“We have it! Send the duplicates!”

Sure enough, your duplicates turned a corner of a wall outside of the parlor. You both walked over. They vanished like mist. 

You took their places and walked in. Sipping coffee with the other ladies making idle chatter. Stella glanced at you both. You gave her a smile and a nod and her shoulders relaxed.

Drinking your tepid coffee, you let out an exhale as if to wash away everything that happened.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You both staid for two more days to avoid suspicion.  But on the last day, Edith hurried to your hotel. She embraced you and Stella warmly, (though Sif seemed a little stiff as she did). The other gentlemen nodded.

“May I…may I write, please? I would like to hear from you…all of you,” Edith said,her eyes glancing to Thomas and then back. You felt bad for her, the poor girl would be at the mercy of the McMichaels again. 

“We will. We’ll visit too if we can,” you promised her. 

Thomas then stepped forward, his eyes wide and hopeful.

“May I have the pleasure of writing to you as well, Miss Cushing?” he asked.

She jumped at first. Her jaw lowered briefly, and then she smiled.

“Why- Yes, please,” she answered.

He took her hand and kissed it. You could feel the fluttering from Edith herself. Hal cocked an eyebrow, but Robert rolled his eyes.

Once she left, Jonathan made sure your keys were all returned. Loki took a hand and flicked open a portal.

One down, three more to go you silently counted out. But perhaps more than just ghosts awaited the next one. Things even worse…

[jennaispunk]

A Symptom of Being Human

Summary: An unlikely connection forms between Joel and a new resident of Jackson. (sorry I suck at summaries)

Word Count: 2.6k

Rating: T

Pairing: Joel Miller x OFC (Maggie)

Warnings: fluff, slight age gap (Joel is 50ish, OFC is 40ish), grief, loss of spouse, loss of child, panic attacks, mild violence, allusions to SA but no specific details, possible friends to something more, soft!Joel, please let me know if I forgot anything.

Notes: This fic was inspired by 'A Symptom of Being Human' by Shinedown. When I first heard this song, the idea for this story immediately popped into my head. This could become a series if it doesn't flop.

Thank you @fallingforthearch for being my #1 fan and my biggest supporter. I would have never had the courage to put my writing out there without you.

dividers and banners by @saradika-graphics

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Brian promised they’d be safe. They were traveling in a group, not going far. Maggie begged him to stay at the settlement, but the promise of something better for Aiden had made her relent.

The sounds of Brian’s screams still rang in her ears. The ground scattered with the lifeless bodies of their traveling companions; husbands, wives, and children, all just wanting something a little better from this existence.

Her furious struggles elicited laughs from her captors.

“She’s a feisty one, Ty. Gonna be a lot of fun breakin’ ‘er down.”

The smell of his rotten breath filled her nostrils, and she choked back the bile in her throat. His grimy hand slid up her side, roughly groping her breast.

The one called Ty looked over at her as he stood over the limp body of her husband. His steely blue eyes pierced through her, and she froze, her blood running cold.

“Please,” she sobbed. “I’ll do whatever you want; just give me back my son.”

Ty slowly sauntered over to her, tilting her chin so she had to meet his gaze. The cruelty in his eyes betrayed the tenderness of his touch.

“Shhh…” His dirty thumb wiped the tears from her cheek, leaving a streak of dirt in its wake. “You’ll do whatever I want, anyway. You don’t got a choice, darlin’.”

Aiden screamed, struggling in vain against the arms that held him. Her heart shattered at the sight of his tear stained face.

“Please, he’s just a boy.” She begged. “He won’t be any trouble for you, I swear.”

Ty clicked his tongue, shaking his head slowly.

“That boy’s got fight in him, like his daddy.” He drawled. “Only a matter a time ‘fore he tries somethin’ ta save his pretty little mama. Can’t have that.”

A wicked smile formed on his thin lips. “B’sides…he’d be just another mouth ta feed.”

Ty nodded to his companion restraining Aiden.

“No!” She knew what that meant. She kicked and screamed wildly, her shoulder joints aching as she struggled to get to the only thing that mattered. She couldn’t let them harm him. She had to protect him at all costs; it was her job. A sharp backhand to her face caused her head to spin.

She watched helplessly through blurry eyes as a shot rang out, and her son…her baby, crumpled to the ground. Her screams filled the air as she thrashed and spit at her captors. Her entire world was lying on the ground in front of her. She wanted them to kill her, too; she had nothing left.

The last thing she remembered was the blinding pain as the butt of a handgun connected with her temple.

Maggie’s eyes shot open, shooting upright in her bed. Her chest heaved, the sound of that gunshot still rang in her head as if it had just happened moments ago and not over a year ago. Her eyes darted to the small clock on the bedside stand… 5:06 AM. She squeezed her eyes closed; the chance of going back to sleep was lost.

Six hours of uninterrupted sleep- that had to be a record. It had been ages since she slept that long without waking. She rolled herself out of bed, peeling her sweat soaked t-shirt from her body as she padded toward the bathroom. The worn hardwood floor creaked, announcing to the empty house that she was awake.

She turned the faucet to the hottest setting and stepped under the water. Closing her eyes, she let the scorching water beat down upon her. She hoped it would wash away her memories, but she knew better.

The sun was just coming over the horizon as she approached the dining hall doors. She made this trip every day for the last three months, and it hadn’t gotten easier. She took a few deep breaths in front of the faded double doors, her mask firmly in place, a friendly smile that told the world she was okay. Some of her neighbors knew her story…at least the parts she shared with Tommy and Eugene when they found her in the woods, but she never shared the full story with anyone. Speaking the words aloud would make it all too real, and she didn’t want any pity.

The clanking of dishes and silverware filled the dining hall, along with the low hum of conversation. Smiling at her neighbors, she made her way through the hall to grab some food and some much needed coffee. She always sat alone, needing the time to collect her thoughts and prepare for the day. A familiar figure appeared in her periphery; he sat alone, too….always alone. He had a story, too. Tommy had said as much when she first arrived in Jackson, but he didn’t elaborate. She noticed the way he glanced at her from time to time, but he never spoke. Her step faltered slightly as if she was going to break the ice, but she kept moving past him.

Joel watched her as she walked past, taking the same seat by the window every morning. He saw how she smiled at everyone and pretended to be okay, but he knew she wasn’t. He knew that look in her eye…. he’d seen it in his own so many times. The look of loss…of heartbreak and misery. She’d lost something, too. She may think no one noticed…but he did. He wanted to say something to her….anything to let her know he understood, but the words stuck in his throat. He’d never been good at letting people in.

The air in the barn was surprisingly stuffy for this time of year, and the earthy smell of dirt and hay surrounded her. Despite the stuffiness, she found solace in the scents and sounds of the barn. It brought her peace; she could focus here. She didn’t have to be anything… didn’t have to be happy or smile. The animals understood.

Willow, the chestnut mare, blustered and pranced restlessly around her stall. Maggie brushed a stray lock of her long hair off her damp forehead and reached out to pat Willow’s shoulder over the stall door.

“I know, mama.” She cooed. “The last few days are the hardest, but once you see that little baby you made, it’ll all be worth it.”

She remembered how it felt when she was pregnant with Aiden. How those last few days were uncomfortable, and she struggled to sleep. The mare nudged her hand in silent commiseration. Maggie smiled at her and rubbed Willow’s nose.

“I’ll be here with you when it’s time…make sure you and the baby are alright.”

Joel watched silently as she spoke to the mare. She was so different here…much different than when she was in the dining hall or slinging drinks at the Tipsy Bison. He wondered if she ever slept. It seemed like she had her hands in everything here in Jackson…tending the garden and the animals and bartending at night. He understood the need to keep busy, to drown out the pain and the failure.

The longer he watched, the more guilty he felt. He shouldn’t be intruding like this, watching her like some creep. He backed away slowly, not wanting to interrupt her private moment. The heel of his work boot connected with a bucket, and the clank reverberated through the barn.

Her eyes snapped up, focusing on Joel. How long had he been there? What had he heard?

His cheeks flushed with embarrassment at being caught eavesdropping.

“Sorry…I…didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s okay. I’m usually not this jumpy.”

She was lying through her teeth, hoping he couldn’t tell. Her heart pounded so loudly she could hardly hear him speak.

Joel smiled sheepishly. He knew how badly he scared her and felt terrible for it. He cleared his throat and took a small step forward. Maybe this was his chance to connect with someone again.

“It’s Maggie, right?” He asked. “I’m-“

“I know who you are.” She winced at the sharpness of her tone.

“Right.” He sighed a little too loudly and dragged a hand through his peppered hair. He cursed himself for being so stupid; of course she knew he was. His brother was just about the only person she had a conversation with that lasted more than a few minutes.

“Is everything alright with the mare?”

He was desperate to change the subject, to get the conversation back on track.

“Willow? No, she’s fine. I was just checking in on her.” Her hand dropped to her lower abdomen, instinctively covering her womb, her eyes tender. “The last few days before giving birth can be pretty uncomfortable.”

Joel’s eyebrow twitched. She’d lost a child, too. He knew that agony all too well. The unbelievable pain and darkness that engulfs you, pulling you down into a pit of emptiness that leaves you with nothing but a gaping hole where your heart should be.

Her face went slack. She’d always been so careful about keeping details of her past close to her vest. She didn’t want pity; she just wanted to feel normal.  

Joel’s eyes softened as they stared at each other, an unspoken conversation between two people with the worst thing in common.

Even twenty-plus years later, it still hurt. It hurt to think about what Sarah would have grown up to be if she’d had the chance, if it hadn’t been stolen from her…if he wouldn’t have failed her. Those moments that she would never have played in his mind… her first day of college… her wedding day… the birth of her first child, his grandchild—his hands clenched into fists as his eyes misted.

He’d never had anyone to share that pain with, not even Tommy. Maria had lost a child, too, but there was no chance of the two of them talking about it; she wasn’t exactly his biggest fan, even after all this time.

He opened his mouth to speak, but the words caught in his throat. The fear of taking that first step kept them from escaping. 

“Come on, Joel. We gotta go, Eugene’s waitin’ on us.”

Tommy’s voice echoed through the barn. Joel and Maggie averted their gazes from each other. His hand flew to the back of his neck, while she fidgeted with the hem of her shirt.

Tommy’s eyebrows raised and he chuckled under his breath.

“Hey, Sparky.” He drawled, his Texas accent more pronounced than usual. “You’re comin’ to the Spring Fling picnic, right?”

Maggie cleared her throat, forcing herself to smile as her heart hammered in her chest. They had been so close to something… something she’d wanted for so long but had been afraid to let herself wish for… understanding. Had she found a kindred spirit in Joel? She saw it in his eyes; he understood. He knew her pain because he felt it, too.

“Yeah, wouldn’t miss it.”

“Good. I know Maria’ll be real happy to have ya there.” Tommy smiled and clapped Joel on the shoulder before turning and heading out of the barn.

Joel shoved his hands in his pockets. The toe of his boot scuffed the ground before he looked up at her once more. He desperately wanted to say something… anything, but his words evaded him—a grown-ass man, tongue-tied like some goddamn teenage boy. The corner of his mouth twitched into a sheepish smile. He turned on his heel and walked away without looking back.

The chaos of the picnic made things seem almost normal: the sounds of children laughing and playing, the smell of burgers on the grill, and the warmth of the sun on her skin. It all made it easier to pretend that she was okay.

Joel sat silently across from her on the picnic table while Maria, bouncing her toddler on her lap, chatted about the upcoming improvements the council was making to the town.

A blood-curdling scream broke through the din, and everyone scrambled to their feet. She didn’t think; she instinctively ran with the group. She covered her mouth as she saw a little boy lying on the ground, bloodied, and screaming for his mother.

Maggie’s chest heaved, struggling to get air into her lungs. Her heart pounded like it was going to explode out of her chest. The edges of her vision went black as she was immediately pulled back in time. That little boy's voice was Aiden’s… the blood was Aiden’s. She was back in that field, seeing her little boy on the ground dying before her eyes, and she was powerless to stop it once again. She squeezed her eyes closed, clutching her chest as she leaned back against the brick wall.

Joel caught her movements out of the corner of his eye as the chaos swirled around them. He knew what was happening and was at her side in moments.

“Hey.” He gently took her by the elbow. “Just breathe, okay? In through your nose and out through your mouth.”

He’d been through this himself; he knew exactly what she felt.

Each breath felt like lava had been poured down her throat. A burning concoction seeping into her lungs making each breath more difficult than the last. Tears slowly trickled down her cheeks as her muscles clenched keeping her frozen in this hell, not that she could escape it if she tried.

“That’s it, sweetheart…just like that.” His voice was calm and soothing. He could feel her spiraling, and he grabbed her cheeks. “You’re alright. Just focus on me. Look at me.”

She forced her eyes to open to see his soft and tender chocolate brown eyes in front of her, a warm, reassuring smile on his face. His words echoed in her ears. ‘Focus on me. Look at me.’ Her eyes traced the lines of his face. The scent of pine and canvas filled her nostrils, a scent she would forever associate with him.

“I’ve got you. You’re in Jackson…you’re safe.”

Reality slowly settled in. Her chest began to loosen, each breath a little less torturous than the last. The images in her mind slowly dissolved to reveal the tangible world, the feel of his hands on her face, the gentle breeze fluttering the streamers on the picnic tables.

“Good girl…just keep breathin’.”

His large hands cupped her cheeks as his calloused thumb brushed her soft cheek absentmindedly.

“Feeling better?”

Maggie nodded slowly, letting out a shaky breath. She’d never had a panic attack so intense before. Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment and then opened again.

“Thanks.” A bashful smile teased at her lips. “How?...”

“Happened to me before, too.” He chuckled softly, scratching at the salt and pepper scruff on his cheek. “But that’s a story for another time.”

He knew he could share that story with her one day; she would understand. There was a long-forgotten feeling in his chest. He wanted to connect with someone for the first time in a very long time.  

Her body went slack against the brick wall; her muscles tingled from the exertion. The nervous and excited chatter of everyone around her filled her ears.

“I think you’ve had enough excitement for one day. Would it be alright if I walked you home?”

“Sure, I’d like that.”

He wrapped a protective arm around her, guiding her away from the picnic. She sank into his warmth, her head cradled perfectly into his shoulder. She never thought Joel Miller would be the one she connected with. This might be an unlikely friendship, born of mutual hurt and pain, but it felt right. She wouldn’t ask him for his story now; she would be patient. For now, she would be content with this.