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darlingdekarios · 1 year ago

Text

abandon all hope.

RATING: explicit. 18+ only. — LENGTH: 9,131— Raphael x f![warlock]tav [reader]

CONTENT: being a patron is being a sugar daddy/mommy you can't change my mind, set during Act II canon, small amounts of alcohol consumption, toxic behavior/ expressions of possession/ownership, "fluff", SMUT [unprotected p in v], KINK(S) [praise kink, orgasm control, hair pulling, biting, scratching/clawing, blood, breath play, dacryphilia, just a little degredation, size], there's a lot of poetry in here I did my best, Haarlep cameo, the least Raphael could've done for killing an Orthon for him is fuck us ffs, have fun thinking Raphael is bad at sex I'm built different, this got out so out of hand

you had become his absolute favorite - his most precious client and prized treasure. it's become increasingly difficult not to admit that you're truly his forever...and he's ready to hear it.

"In a world of horrors where shadows loom, A tiny creature navigates through certain doom. A little mouse, determination in its eye, Hoping this will not be its last heard lullaby."

It would be a lie to say that very voice didn't send the most delightful of shivers down your spine each time it announced his presence to you - you hung on each syllable like he was speaking a new language you were desperate to understand. Though your back was turned to him as the corners of your lips twitched upward you could feel in your soul - the one that no longer belonged to you - that he knew.

Though you may have been doing your best to feign disinterest and even often annoyance at his dramatics, it was no secret that you found him amusing. Fortunately, he happened to feel rather the same, a creeping mirth building in his chest at this familiar performance you were putting on.

"Just when I was beginning to miss your theatrics."

It was only then he realized just how badly he'd yearned to hear your voice again in the time since it had last swam into his ears. Curiously - but perhaps not at all - he felt his mouth go temporarily dry as his next rehearsed verse fell from his mind momentarily. When his silence lingered you filled it gracefully as you knelt before a bucket of water, scrubbing your arms free of the blood that covered them as you worked off the most uncomfortable parts of your armor.

His stumble did not last forever - his practiced words would not go to waste.

"With the battle fought and her patron's foe slain, She has etched upon her weary soul so very much strain. With a gentleness most sincere, the Patron offers her rest. Her wearied body, soon at peace even in her mind, No longer bound by battles' fierce behest, Their worries, for a moment, left entirely behind.

For the strongest heroes, too, do need a moment's grace, To find their strength renewed in the tenderest embrace."

Though his continued lack of transparency was frustrating, particularly after the stretch of days you'd had at his bidding, you noticed the practice lilt in his words, the methodic delivery of his latest poem.

"Have you been practicing poetry for me again, my Lord?" your tone was filled to the brim with the very amusement you felt, amusement that was growing by the moment at the slight waver in his voice, the subtlest indication that now was one of few times his trademark control had faltered. "I must tell you, it really is quite sweet. I've never inspired such before."

Your pleasantries and a title you so rarely chose for him stirred a feeling oh-so rare and delicious in him, a tingle up his spine that spread a wicked grin across his face. Exhausted, and uncaring of the company at the moment you continued your work on seeking your own comfort, continuing to peel armor away from your figure and toss it to the side.

Maybe you knew the lack of attention would agonize him - maybe that was only just more amusement for you. Annoyingly, he was attempting to bury the desires as he always did around you, finding now that the feelings stirring were beginning to gnaw their way out from the inside.

"You flatter me with honorifics yet ignore my presence."

His words had the slightest bit of edge to them and yet the tone in which they were delivered could be described as little more than a purr. It was a tone you'd discovered was reserved to fall on your ears alone - he never spoke to you this way in company, though you didn't doubt others existed that were fortunate enough to hear it. It was delicious - made more-so by the sharpness to them, the gentle bite that warned his limits were being tested.

The fact you only heard it when you were alone meant you seldom travelled with companions for too long, discarding them when your interests were no longer the central focus. It was lonely, but few wanted to be at your side when they discovered the source of your power, and the moments like this reaffirmed your decision each and every time.

"In a land of shadows shrouded with a curse most horrific, Lies a weary hero, hoping her devil might be more specific. For if she doesn't soon rest, Her weary body will be for the shadows to ingest."

There was no denying the radiance and allure in his laughter - it rang out so beautifully it didn't fit in a place like this, it almost wasn't fair for such a joyous sound to ring out in such a cursed land. Now, you couldn't help yourself - you turned to face him with a light smile pulling at your lips, exhaustion written on your face accentuated by the blood of those you'd slain in his name.

It pulled at his heart, something that seldom occurred - you were truly always a sight like this, in his eyes at least.

"Your skills increase tenfold each time we meet," he complimented, the smile settling on his face matched by the pull of the wrinkles beside his eyes. "You were successful in your latest task."

It was a statement - not a question, the wordless affirmation of his continued faith in your abilities. Still, you could've given him a snarky response - the blood covering your body and armor wasn't enough of a clue for him? In truth, though, you'd began to enjoy the moments where he complimented you - even more the rare moment he actually thanked you.

"As always," your coy tone was the final act to try to hide the giddiness you felt now, as well as the fatigue that was slowly overtaking your body. When was the last time you had eaten? When he left would you simply remove the rest of your armor and do your best to build a fire and lay beside it, or would you simply make do with the cold ground beneath you now?

He could sense it; he knew exactly what was on your mind. In truth, your thoughts were mirrored in his - this was no place for someone of your caliber to rest, especially not when you'd been so very good for him already. He'd heard about your camp, of course, but seeing it for himself - well, it really was quite awful.

A snap of his fingers and once again you were in the House of Hope, the unmistakeable extravagant decor a much better sight than the lands you'd been traveling. Though it was a bathroom where you appeared it was already enough to almost bring tears to your eyes - it smelled delightful, a bath was already drawn with bubbles and filling the room with the warmest steam. Unsurprising was the small table beside it filled with fruits, meats, cheeses and wine that made a fresh rumble sound in your stomach.

"It is so very fortunate your generous patron is willing to reward a valiant effort, would you not agree?"

You huffed a breath through your nose as a smile spread further across your fae, heat rising in cheeks as you returned your gaze to his. "And who said devils are selfish?"

His beautiful laughter filled your ears again, the warmth radiating from the fireplace and the bath nothing compared to that which engulfed you just hearing the sound so entirely for you. His movements were smooth as he made his way to the small table, pouring a glass of wine with ease while his eyes stayed on you the entire time.

"You have undertaken quite the ordeal on my behalf, you deserve a proper display of my abundant appreciation," there was the unmistakable purr of sultriness beneath his tone, his strides predatory as he made his way back to you, eyes running up and down your entire frame again before settling on your eyes. "And a bath, though I do so worship the vision of my dark hero covered in the blood of my enemies."

"You show your appreciation by providing me my power."

"And yet," the pause lingered heavily - if you weren't so keen on enjoying everything he had to offer you there would probably be a quip about holding for drama, but now you only looked up at him with wide doe eyes - eager and expectant and deliciously obedient. "I find myself curiously wanting to provide you with more."

The look that was blooming in his eyes was a peculiar one - one of a fondness. He slipped behind you gracefully, one of his hands reaching to grasp your hip and turn you to face an ornate mirror before his arm fully encircled your waist, drawing you back toward his chest. His hand slipped up your body, avoiding any part that would have been too inappropriate to touch without express permission, to grasp your chin, holding your face gently but firmly as he angled it to look in the ornate mirror before you.

"The longer you have my power reflected in your eyes, the more beautiful you become. Wouldn't you agree? You are radiant."

Now it was impossible to pass off the heat that had risen in you as nothing more than the heat from the bath - with his hand just beneath your chin on your neck and his claws digging ever-so-slightly into your skin, the heat had begin to pool at your core. You were still trying to remain focused, to maintain the aura of strength you almost never allowed to falter…particularly around him. But with him pressed to your back and his eyes devouring you in the mirror like a feral animal with a long-awaited meal, there were certain signs from your body that gave you away.

The elevated heart rate. The blown pupils. The pull of your bottom lip between your teeth.

It didn't take any amount of perception to see the signs that were so plainly there, particularly not for a devil who was eager to look for them.

"As you've pointed out, I'm covered in blood."

"A testament to our combined strength, my pet," you were certain with the intensity with which he was staring into your eyes' reflection in the mirror that he had stopped blinking, finding an unchanging face each time your eyes closed briefly. "Do you mind?"

He was offering you the wine glass to free up his hand or to distract yours - it was impossible to tell, really. Regardless of the intent you reached for it, taking a drink and relishing the familiar fire this particular wine ignited in your throat and belly.

Meanwhile his free hand was lightly trailing over the bow to the back laces of your clothing, giving a subtle tug to seek permission as his eyes continued to burn into yours in the mirror. With a nod the laces fell free under the quick work of his fingers - it was somewhat endearing that you knew he could do this with the snap of his fingers, yet he was choosing to do it himself, to peel you apart with his own hands. What you'd been wearing pooled to the ground and revealed the aftermath of your battle in full, all of the bruises and scratches and burns that had no place there…unless they were given by him or on his word.

His hands found your shoulders first and with a familiar warmth your injuries became another part of your past, his eyes trailing up and down your body to ensure all that remained was evidence of injuries not belonging to you.

"Positively resplendent," his breath was hot on your neck as he angled his face closer to yours, his nose brushing behind your ear softly. "A painting of this image would be so suitable for a portrait of us, wouldn't you agree?"

Bravery - it was a characteristic of yours that he cherished nearly more than any other, one that provided endless entertainment (and often worry, though he was hardly eager to admit that). It was the very trait that sometimes pushed you to do or say the very last thing he expected, and yet you still managed to take him by surprise. Even now in his domain was one of those times, your face unwavering and intention resolute as you spoke.

"Not in this form."

All he'd offer in his momentary shock was a raised eyebrow before these features faded and he transformed to the figure he was meant for, wings stretching behind his back as he got more comfortable. This is how he was meant to look - how the two of you were supposed to appear together, the devil and his toy hero, you and the source of your growing power. It would take blindness not to see the radiance with which you two joined together, and even then it was palpable in the air.

Ignoring the many feelings and tensions that crackled between the two of you when you were together was difficult - and growing more impossible by the day.

"This is suitable for the foyer."

He continued to lean down behind you, swallowing you with his true height so he could press a singular kiss behind your ear before straightening his back, his hand that was still flat against your now fluttering stomach pulling you against him tighter. Your skin burned where his lips had graced it - tingling as though his the action was magic. Your body only continued to respond to him with all of the tell-tale signs: a rising temperature, parted lips, blown pupils, quicker breath.

He so adored that you were trying to maintain control - to maintain an unbothered façade.

"You prefer me this way."

It left his mouth as a statement, but you caught the subtle insecurity at the tail of the sentence, the way his words slightly trailed and his eyes flashed with a truth - and hope? - that was so rarely seen.

Was he afraid of your answer?

"You don't need to wear a mask around me," you were quick to silence his doubt and eager to put out a particular fire that threatened everything around it boiling beneath his surface. Your sincerity and sensitivity was hardly what had initially drawn him to you - he loved that you'd always been willing to tell him your mind without a care to whom you were speaking, even himself included at times. "You would know that I preferred you this way if you spoke to me yourself more often instead of sending your little spy."

Suddenly you understood the meaning of the phrase "devilish grin" in a new light.

"Do I detect jealousy, my dear?" he purred as he leaned down toward you again, his breath tickling the back of your ear and neck and his claws dug into your hip slightly. You tried to ignore the flare of heat within you, unwilling to admit it fully quite yet. "A flicker of envy, so very subtle but clear."

You huffed and rolled your eyes in response to his taunt, annoyed he could think of a rhyme so quickly and a charming one at that, and even more annoyed that it worked. Bards.

"Korilla does not enjoy the same…benefits you do," he continued when you offered nothing in response but the puff of air, a reticent hum vibrating in your chest as you raised the cool glass to your lips to take another drink. Your eyes met his in the mirror again as you realized how long they'd been focusing on his hands, allowing your gaze to stay connected as you continued to drink.

Of course, he was hardly one to leave a silence unfilled for long.

"And what of my own feelings?" he questioned, the twitch in his jaw accentuating the frustration behind his words that he was trying to tame. "So many people you meet these days and you haven't shared with a single one where you get your power…"

It was hard to focus on a conversation like this when his claws were now grazing lower down your thigh, red lines painting your skin the evidence the Cambion's claws had been there. In the mirror you could see how he lovingly soaked in the sight of each new mark - of each new claim of his territory. You'd have far more decorations from him by the time you returned to your own camp.

"What am I supposed to think other than you're ashamed of me?"

"No," the rejection of his insinuation came from your lips faster than any reply you'd given before by far, a fact that ticked his lips into a slight smile. Though the two of you teased anda taunted one another often, you were always well aware of the line before you stepped over it. "They wouldn't understand."

"They don't have to understand…they have to respect. Besides, it's not their soul to be bothered with, and you're hardly the only warlock in your little party."

"But they won't. With the Blade of Frontiers it is different…he had no choice, not really. I did - I could've chosen anything else…anyone else. And I chose you."

"Then you will make them."

You could hear the commanding tone he rarely needed to take with you begin to form in his words, a low grumble rumbling against your chest as he spoke. At this point you knew what little remained of his patience was so close to slipping away completely - but you still couldn't stop yourself from testing those tempestuous waters just a bit more.

After all, he needed you alive just as much as you needed him. Harm too serious coming your way was out of the question, and the proof you could take a bit of pain was in the stories that would be told about you and your adventures for years to come.

"It's just another contract to you. What difference does it make?"

The final impertinent word left your lips as his hand grabbed your chin, applying pressure and encouraging you to face him. He loomed over you in this form - a delicious fact - his skin noticeably hotter against yours as he leaned closer, trapping you between his body and the wall. Flames danced in his eyes, the raging inferno matching the temporary flare of anger he felt ignited in his chest. His grip on your face was resolute, thumb and forefinger grasping so hard your cheeks were squished together.

That would certainly keep you from further insult.

"I am so very fond of you, my impudent little mouse. Can you not see that is so?"

You'd been in many dangerous - increasingly so - situations recently, but the fact this one was one of the most was…invigorating. Invigorating in the same way as when he'd first approached you with a deal, in the way he'd complimented a job well done for the first time, in the way he was overjoyed when you returned from your kidnapping. In truth - because you were not foolish enough to deny what was a plainly writ fact - you were well aware you belonged to him in every aspect of the word. It was fun to test what boundaries a relationship like that presented.

Your heart was thudding against your chest harder and faster by the moment as he continued to regard you, fully aware you couldn't respond to his question through the hold he maintained on your face.

"I will not hear more of your ill-mannered mouth while I am being such a gracious host. You are far from 'just another' anything to me…"

There was a sincerity in his words that shattered any possibility of refute.

"…and I will not tolerate our attachment being hidden any longer."

A threat, or a promise? Both were equally exhilarating in their own way. With the expression on his face - furrowed brows, pinched nose, set jaw, and nostrils flaring with each breath - his feelings toward the situation were written plain on his face. He was done arguing - and you'd be foolish to push it.

"Perhaps I could have a collar fashioned for you that only I can remove."

His hand that still held your waist pulled you closer, a muscular tail winding around your lower legs to hold you against him. One of his legs slotted between your thighs as you pressed to him closer, hands clinging to his upper arms still. His face softened somewhat at the closeness, at the shaky breath that slipped past your lips as your eyes stayed oh-so focused on the way his curved into a wicked grin the more the thought blossomed in his mind.

"One that will burn you should you even try to remove it. Or perhaps better yet, a curse," as he spoke you found yourself drawn closer, entranced by the hardness in his pants that pressed to your waist now, chasing a kiss you weren't certain he'd give. "Or I could use hellfire to brand a symbol of my name beneath your eye - small enough not to ruin your beauty, large enough that everyone who sees you knows that you are mine."

He released his hold on your face only to drop his hand lower, lightly gripping your neck in a silent show of power. He regarded your expression carefully for any sign of distress and only grinned wider when he instead found observed your blown pupils and parted lips, his fingertips soaking in your accelerated pulse beneath them.

The fire in his tone sizzled for a moment, still lingering in each word but not quite as fearsome as even just a moment before. Sweet, almost - if you didn't know any better to see through the charm.

"Swear to me anew," he cooed, his thumb rubbing along the side of your neck as he spoke, eyes gazing at you with an expression that could only be described in adoration. The most temperamental volcano, fury subsided as fast as it'd come. When there was an offer to be presented, he could truly be oh-so-sweet. "An amendment to our existing contract. You are not to hide that we are joined together, or you will face consequences that will last forever."

Did it matter if you even truly had the option to refuse him when all you wanted to do was please him again? The proposition of more appreciation, the promise of his praise. That fact alone was enough to ensure your answer before you'd given it.

You nodded in understanding - specifics beyond what he'd stated weren't needed to convey the weight of his words.

"On one condition."

The bravery again - though your voice was more meek as you rightfully walked the fiery embers before you, navigating what you knew could still erupt again if you pressed too much harder again. To prove your point his eyebrow raised in annoyance, nose threatening to scrunch upward in frustration before you elaborated.

"We seal this contract with a kiss."

An expression that had almost been rage morphed into perplexity before a laugh burst from his chest, your mind lost in the sound and the view of his fangs, thoughts wandering somewhere fittingly sinful for your surroundings.

"And you talk about my theatrics."

Despite his taunting he brought you closer with his iron grip on your waist, the hand holding your neck still sliding up to your cheek as his thumb claw grazed along your bottom lip in passing. He looked at you like a child receiving a new toy, regarded you with an adoration often seen in temples.

And then, though there was still a subtle laugh shaking his chest, he held you reverently as he angled his head toward you. The rest of his expression as he approached would go unnoticed as your eyes slipped shut, holding your breath in anticipation…which he exploited for just a moment longer than was necessary before he finally gave you what you both wanted.

Your lips met like the strike of a match - the spark between flint and stone. It burned like frostbite and was over just as soon as it'd begun, taking your remaining breath with it.

It was a purr that rumbled in his chest as he ran his nose along your jaw that reminded you to breathe, his lips pressing a kiss over a pulse point on your neck pulling a gasp from your lungs as his hand slipped down the other side of your neck. Holding you like an artifact his fangs teased the skin on the spot for a moment as his grip on your waist tightened further, the tips of his claws threatening to break skin.

He withdrew before his composure melted, filling his chest with a deep breath to bring himself to full sense again.

"Come. I'm far from through with you, but you truly do need a bath."

It was…nice, which didn't quite seem wholly appropriate considering who he was and the fact the atmosphere had been threatening and tense only moments before. He sank into the tub first, motioning for you to join him by taking place between his legs. There was a voice in the back of your mind reminding you that all of this was because he wanted something - everything possible from you, and that he knew the best way to reach his goal was to manipulate.

The fact you were aware of it did little to stop you from enjoying it.

He made sure he ate and drank in a silence you didn't know he was capable of as his hands made work cleaning your body, a bath in the House of Hope proving to be a lavish experience as the water remained pristine and hot no matter how long it went on.

*(Though, it certainly could've just been the heat between your bodies sustaining the temperature).

It was the first time you'd truly relaxed since a tadpole had taken residence in your mind, the first moment of bliss in days. When his claws found your scalp and scratched against it lightly as he massaged soap into it he earned a thank you in the form of the sweetest moan that just couldn't be held back by your lips. You felt his cock twitch against your back at the sound, an appreciative hum rumbling in his chest.

"My, my…who knew you could sound so melodic, my dear," his tone was best described as a condescending coo, treasuring the way you melted in his hold and couldn't help yourself from being his to play with. "I want to hear much more of you."

One of his hands slipped from your head down to rest on your stomach as the other went even lower to the top of your thigh, pausing still to wait for your reaction. When you leaned your head back against his shoulder and closed your eyes he took his sign, chasing more of a reaction from you by running a single claw softly up your thigh toward your core. The small gasp that fell from your lips wasn't enough, his disapproval noted with a click of his tongue against his teeth. It was impossible to keep silent when one of his fingers connected to your clit, rubbing a swift circle quickly.

The cry that burst from your chest returned the smile to his face, a low laugh filling your ears again as he leaned forward to kiss your neck. Two of his fingers parted your folds as they slipped downward to your entrance, moans falling freely from your mouth you'd forgotten how to close. Taking advantage of the fact he leaned closer to claim your lips, reaching his free hand to hold the back of your head and ensure you couldn't pull away from him.

A dark possessiveness within him considered slipping his fingers into you to feel how your tight walls would grip him, though he knew it meant you would face the consequences of his claws. He could heal you, after all - but you'd always remember the feeling. He'd refrain on that particular thought…

For now.

Instead, he returned his attention to your clit, fingers circling the sensitive nub as his fingers tangled into your hair. He continued to kiss you past what your lungs could take, your eyes opening to attempt to gain his attention. His own eyes remained closed and he only held your head in a firmer grip - no doubt he knew though he couldn't see - and he continued that way until your vision was just starting to blur and your hole was clenching around nothing. Only then did he release you - releasing you fully by pulling his fingers away too - allowing you to take the breath you needed.

So close to the edge of release only to be pulled back away from it. It was a cruelty that made the first sound that left your lips when your breath returned to be a whimper.

"Please," you could barely get the shaking word through your lips, it could hardly be considered speaking when each letter was filled with a whine. "More."

"Now now, you will learn to take what I give you," he cooed, releasing his hold on your head to run the back of his fingers down the side of your face and neck, lightly pushing your head to the side to press a kiss beneath your ear. "With no questions asked. Won't you? You'll have to show me you can be patient."

You couldn't help the whimper that slipped past your lips again, your body singularly focused on its need for more. Your eyes are wide and desperate as you gazed at him, hands reaching to grasp at his thighs and squeeze. "'s not fair…"

Your ears were filled with his boisterous laugh again before he pressed a gentle kiss to your shoulder, allowing his lips to stay against your skin as he spoke.

"Perhaps not for you, but it's perfectly lovely for me," you realized as he spoke that he was having fun, a giddiness in every word that proved it. Unrehearsed, without anger, without practiced intentions. Him. "Finish up in here at your leisure, then join me in the boudoir."

With a snap of his fingers he was gone and the option to beg for more removed you were alone, left to wonder exactly what awaited you when you did join him. The kind of excitement that matched the feelings of fear and anxiety bubbled in your stomach, making your movements a little clumsy as you navigated your way through one last wash of your body.

The feelings remained as you removed yourself from the water, realizing immediately you'd been left with no towel or robe or clothes to utilize on your walk. Feeling a flare of preemptive embarrassment you found your way to the hall, doing your best to navigate quickly as you muttered to yourself.

You were distracted in your search that you didn't notice Haarlep had stalked up to you from the dark after you'd passed until their voice filled your ears. "My, my, aren't you just delicious," he purred, continuing to walk closer toward you when you froze in your tracks. They circled you like a predator circled prey, like a painter studying their subject - it was enough to make your face burn again. "I wouldn't mind slipping into your image for the occasional rendezvous."

"Haarlep."

Their name left your lips as a gasp and they stopped in front of you with a wicked smile, handsome and proud and no doubt every bit as convincing as their Master, if not more. "So you do know me. How flattering."

You were cornered against a wall with one of their forearms resting next to your head, the other grasping your hip in fingers much gentler than the ones they were mimicking. They leaned closer until your lips were brushing together feather light, the anticipation of a kiss lingering heavy in the air and sending your heart rate skyrocketing again.

"Oh, what fun we will have together…"

Their sinful tongue left their mouth to lick the seam of your lips until they fell open, the muscle slipping into your mouth to kiss you fully and hungrily. As you swallowed their spit you started to feel new levels need, the definition of the word insatiable finally grasped in your mind. One of their knees knocked apart your legs as their hand left your thigh, slipping to examine how wet you were and finding their digits slid through your folds with embarrassing ease.

"Mm…but that will be for another time," there was a sincerity in their words that made them so believable and you were certain they were correct about it. "Tonight, your job is to make him a bit more tolerable for the rest of us. Be a good pet and behave, won't you?"

As they sauntered away in a pace that existed to entice you to follow they threw one last wink over their shoulder, pointing you in the direction of where you were meant to go. In a haze you made your way to your destination, opening the doors to find your Patron sitting on the grand bed with glistening satin sheets, lounging back against the headboard with his arms outstretched, waiting for your arrival. He'd covered himself with an expensive robe, the one he'd deprived you of.

The red of its fine fabric matched his burning aura perfectly.

He observed your clumsy movements as you closed the doors with light amusement until the two of you were once again alone, his eyes appreciating your clean form as you walked to the foot of the bed. With a smile he raised a hand to motion you forward with one finger, his features fittingly illuminated by the hellfires that illuminated the room.

He was beautiful. Enticing. This very room could become an easy prison with no locked door if you allowed your resolve to slip.

"Come," he invited in a delicious tone, using one hand to untie his robe and allow it to fall open. He patted his thigh afterward to further elaborate on his instruction, one you were more than willing to follow. "Crawl to me…show me what an obedient, eager little pup you can be."

You did exactly as he told you to, enjoying the feeling of the soft sheets against your skin as you made your way to him. You climbed into his lap and straddled his waist between your thighs, core hovering over his hard and throbbing cock that you now wanted more than logic should reasonably allow. He felt how wet you were when your thighs made contact with his skin, breathing in deep to take in the scent of your arousal.

"My, my, how very eager you are," he spoke of you as if he was being presented with the meal of a lifetime. It made you feel desired in ways you weren't sure you'd be able to experience with anyone else for the remainder of your life. "I have to wonder, did my naughty toy find you along the way?"

You nodded, the only response you found yourself capable of, grinding down against his waist in a way that allowed his length to slip through your folds and spread your slick. His hands grasped your hips to follow your movements, chest vibrating against yours with a quiet purr as he appreciated your movements.

"Oh, of course they did…sometimes they just can't help it, the sinful thing…"

Both of his hands found their way to your thighs to grab them roughly, not making any effort to be mindful about his claws in places it wouldn't seriously hurt you - something that would become a pattern for the rest of your time together. Under his fingertips he could feel the welts that raised as a result of his scratching, smiling a charming smile as he took in your expression.

Finding you perfectly needy for him he reached one hand to grab your jaw and pull you closer, leaving his face hovering inches from yours. His skin was noticeably hotter against yours now, the undeniable evidence that he was just as effected by your closeness as you were his. His other hand gave your ass a swat to encourage you to raise up on your knees again, licking his lips when he could then reach toward your core and run his fingers through your folds again.

It was easier to feel the arousal he - and Haarlep, now - had earned when you weren't submerged in a tub. His fingers took the distance from your hole to your swollen clit painfully slow, matching the deep inhale he filled his lungs with along the way. Lost in how his hands felt against your body again you hardly noticed his tail wrap around one of your legs to hold you against him tighter, ensuring there was no chance of you climbing off before he'd had his fill.

It was hardly something he needed to do, but the implications of it made the experience all the better for him - and for you too.

"Don't forget to speak to me, my dear," he cooed, no annoyance present in his voice though he was hardly happy he had to remind you as he exercised a bit of patience at your current state. "I simply adore hearing the desperation in your words."

"Please, I need…"

Though he'd requested them your words were cut off as he pulled you against him rougher, pressing his throbbing length up into her core as he does. Your sentence quickly turned into a moan, your hands grabbing at his shoulders so you could cling to him in every sense of the word.

"Do go on."

You hated that his taunting tone sent a shiver down your spine and a hot wave of arousal straight to your core. Your desperation flooded every word that came from your mouth. "I need more," you were begging without having to be asked for it, something he would thank you for at a later time. "Something…a-anything you'll give me."

"Anything I'll give you?"

Was that particular choice of words a mistake? You found you couldn't come to a rational answer as you became lost in the embers of his eyes. You nodded, grinding against him to further your consent and ensure the point was driven home - you wanted him in whatever capacity he'd provide, in any way that would earn you more of his favor.

You hadn't realized your lip was quivering and your eyes were slightly watering out of the desperation but he had, soaking in the sight of you so wanton and lustful for him. It was his favorite look on you by far, and he couldn't resist the opportunity to see how truly indecent he could make you behave.

And all for him.

"Then prove to me you deserve it. Prove to me you're worth the effort from me and then I will prove to you that you are mine."

You only leaned closer to entice him the rest of the distance between you. You reached between your bodies with one hand to grasp his cock and rub it through your folds again, lining it up with your entrance and teasing down onto the tip slightly to test what he'd allow. He raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth to express a thought that disappeared as you began to sink onto him, maintaining the eye contact you knew he loved as you moaned out his name quietly. He forgave you when your eyes fluttered closed to focus on taking his length and girth, your forehead falling down against his shoulder as a heavy breath fell from your lips.

"That's it," he was quick to compliment your efforts to ensure you knew how much he appreciated it, hoping the praise would keep you from giving up. "You can take me. Do not get discouraged…"

Your head nodded as another steady breath left your chest, shifting your hips to find the right angle to take him in. Though his words were honied you knew he was hardly the patient type and to avoid a temper change you pushed yourself onto as much of his length as you could take, finally earning a groan from him that was worth the quick shot of pain that being stretched like this brought. One of his arms reached to wrap around your waist and his other hand found the back of your head, cradling you against his form. His wings soon joined, wrapping both of you in privacy and what felt like the ultimate safety.

Within his wings it would be impossible for anyone who entered to see how well you began to ride him after a long adjustment period, how after several minutes of grinding and shifting and allowing him to pump into you you began to take him perfectly. Though he maintained his hold on your head your lips were finding their way to any place they could reach on his neck, chest, and jaw, eagerly nibbling and licking and sucking - testing if you could mark him like he'd undoubtedly mark you.

He decided you were testing him when you bit into him hard, his surprise announced by a grunt and a squeeze from his hand holding your hip. He gave your hair a tug to pull you upward into a hungry kiss, your moans joining together in the room as your hands grabbed his horns to hold him against you.

This is how he wanted you for him forever.

As your tongues danced your movements slowed, his hands meeting on your upper back to press your chest closer to his. Allowing you a partial breath he pulled away from the kiss to watch your face twist in pleasure as his claws dragged slowly down your back, pressing harder the lower they reached as he experimented with what you'd allow. You were eager to prove exactly what he'd requested - you could take what he would give.

His own head dropped to claim one of your breasts in his mouth, his tongue circling your nipple and flicking the nub several times before he changed his efforts to suck hard enough to bruise, glad he could stay here without a real breath for longer than what you may have previously experienced. He only pulled away to bite a mark into the soft flesh that immediately spilled some blood - as you continued to ride him exactly how you liked you either didn't notice or you didn't mind, either of which were fine by him.

"Very good," he purred, remembering how well you normally responded to his praise. He was thanked by a quiet moan and your walls tightening, fluttering around his length as he struck just the right cord in you. "Should I allow you release before I have my way with you?"

You were nodding before his sentence was fully complete and begging incoherently as your face buried into his neck again, continuing to lavish the skin with kisses. Your thighs began to shake at the mere thought of release, at how it would feel to gush around his length and how he would moan feeling you constrict him.

Whatever words he chose to give you permission were not fully understood, only their intent mattered. Though he wanted to pump into you at his own pace he allowed you to find release in this position yourself, happy it didn't take much longer for your walls to clamp around him and your head to throw back in ecstasy, your screams undoubtedly filling every wall in the house despite the closed door.

He held you down on his length as you spasmed through the high, enjoying the feeling of your body against his and focusing on how you felt held in his arms. He was always going to take what he wanted from you after you'd found this release but the longer he soaked in how small you were against his frame the more his own carnal desire began to take over his thoughts, a feral need building that wouldn't be long ignored.

"You have hold of me like an addiction," he breathed out heavy, shifting his hips beneath you - earning a whimper - wondering how much you'd truly be able to take. "So…unh…tight…"

Before you had fully returned to your senses he was pushing you onto your back, staying inside you with little effort and pinning you down with one hand on your stomach. His other hand rested at the base of your throat with his forearm beside your head, and just as your mind began to fathom how dangerous the position you were in was he kissed you slowly, silencing reason once again.

You could feel how sensitive you were as he pumped his length into you a few times - slowly to test your reaction. He pulled away from the kiss to examine your face, finding it filled with pleasure and overstimulation - traces of pain were there but you gave no indication he needed to stop.

"Do you think you can take what I will give you?"

His lips moved against yours sensually as he spoke, and you opened your mouth to answer for only a sob to be released. Instead you just nodded, hoping it would be enough in the circumstances and looking into his eyes with a pleading expression. He pressed a kiss to your bottom lip and pushed every inch you could take into you roughly, earning another sob that was muffled as he bit into your bottom lip enough to cause it to swell. He pulled away from the action with a wicked grin and savored your expression for a moment longer before this position came to an end.

He pulled out of you slowly, moving to stand next to the bed. In your haze you listened to him give you instructions to get on your knees and elbows, instructions you followed hastily on shaky limbs as he stroked his length watching you obey. When you were finally presenting yourself to him exactly how he wanted he mounted behind you, still grasping his length in one hand as his other reached forward to circle your dripping hole with two fingers.

"Precious. I will try not to break you."

His fingers were gone and replaced with his cock swiftly, his restraint gone as he thrusted in as far as he could, still trying to press further when he reached the end and smiling when the most beautiful cry filled the room from you. He groaned out deep as his hand found your stomach, pressing against it to hold you upward, reaching his other hand to slip the fingers that were coated in your slick into your mouth.

"So small beneath me," he breathed out, leaning forward to press a kiss over one of the red welts he'd created on your back. He engulfed you in this position, you were at his complete mercy - all hope of being anything but his ever again gone. He would never give you up. "On your knees for me. Just where you should be."

He forgot to be somewhat gentle with you as he thrust into you at a feral pace - or perhaps he just didn't care how little you were able to move when he was through. He continued to kiss your neck, shoulders, and back in any place he could reach, his teeth marking your skin anywhere he could manage. His claws were just as helpful in regard to marking you, reaching to scratch at your thighs and back - until he focused his hand's attention on your ass, spanking and scratching and grabbing roughly as proved to give him additional leverage as he pounded into you.

He was already obsessed with the way you took him with moans and cries while ensuring you stayed in the position he'd molded you into, eyes transfixed on how your tight hole took his length. When this whole Absolute ordeal was taken care of at your hands, he'd happily take this sight every day.

"Look at you just taking me," his voice was shaking now, matching your legs once again. His hand left your stomach to squeeze your throat, accentuating the fact that you were truly just taking whatever he would give. "And you do it so well, you sweet thing."

Content with how marked you were for him his hands instead grasped your waist in the gentlest grasp he'd offered yet, not quite matching the ferocity at which he pounded into you. Through blurred vision you were half aware of the familiar figure that slipped into the room through the shadows, the incubus unable to keep away witnessing what was filling the House with the irresistible sounds of flesh smacking against flesh.

You didn't know if Raphael noticed - you didn't care. You doubted a complaint would be heard if you offered one, and they would leave after you'd reached your release and they'd heard your euphoria anyway.

(Though you did momentarily hope that sinful tongue they'd offered earlier could be put to a better use, though you knew your body would be spent by then).

"Give me another," he ordered, feeling how your body was tensing up again at the threat of release, eager to feel you snap again. "And I want to hear it…"

He reached to rub your clit again at a speed that matched his thrusts, eager to feel how tight you'd squeeze him when you came undone, already intoxicated by the way your velvet walls were fluttering around his length. He was taking what he wanted from your body at a roughness that would no doubt leave bruises for you to feel on the road to Baldur's Gate - he certainly wouldn't heal marks that were a gift from him covering your back and neck and causing you to walk with a limp that so clearly displayed you had coupled with him.

He let you fall to the bed fully, only finding he was able to pound into you harder as you laid flat on your stomach. Unwilling to have you pass out he grabbed your hair on the back of your head and pulled hard enough to force it back so you could continue to breathe, leaning his torso over yours until he could twist your head and claim your lips in a rough kiss. He was hungry - feral - fully lost in himself as he chased his own pleasure, releasing all inhibition as he found his release. The only warning it was coming was the sloppiness that overtook his thrusts as the end neared, a growl rumbling in his chest as he pulled away from your lips to instead bite into your shoulder.

His seed was molten as it filled you, overflowing past his length. As his release filled your womb his teeth broke your skin and he tasted your blood as he was lost in his pleasure. He'd crave its flavor that was entirely you just as often as he'd crave claiming your womb now, knowing the mark would show you were his.

He continued to pump into you slowly several more times, holding you still as you squirmed and whimpered from the overstimulation, hearing the shake in your breaths and sweet sounds that proved to him you were crying. When he decided to pull out completely his chest shook with a quiet, dark laugh, finding a comfortable position straddling over your ass. His hands were loving in the way a curator's were with art, running over your scratched and bitten back adoringly for several moments, fingertips tracing the marks that would last the longest. He leaned down to press a kiss to a particularly possessive bite mark before removing his weight from you, rolling you to your side to to check that you were still capable of coherency.

You blinked up at him with glassy eyes, tear-stained cheeks proving he had been right about your tears. He leaned to press a single gentle kiss to your forehead as he pulled the blanket over your weak body. Selfish of a creature as he was, he was still capable of some semblance of aftercare - though that was it, it was enough from someone like him to someone like you.

"Well done, my dear. A wonderful demonstration of your devotion to me."

This praise - this tone. The very reason you'd do anything he asked, become anything he needed you to become. Anything he asked of you in a moment like this you'd provide. Part of you wondered how long it would take for him to exploit that fact.

"Next time you've behaved for me I will have Haarlep join us. They can lick my seed clean from you as I watch how you look beneath me."

(You'd think more on that particular promise later, when your mind was capable of wrapping around anything other than Raphael's finger again).

His new tone was undeniable and impossible to ignore, the reverence steeping every syllable enough to drown in them. Appreciation, worship. It was difficult to decide if being beneath him or hearing this newfound depth of praise was more fulfilling. You nuzzled closer to him still just barely conscious, physically submitting to the exhaustion that overtook every inch of yourself.

You nodded your head lazily in agreement before burrowing your face in his neck, enjoying the familiar scent of cherries, musk and sulphur that had come to mean power and protection to you. If you were lucky those sinful notes would linger in your senses in the coming day.

Though he was far from one to cuddle, he wasn't one to complain when presented with any show of mutual adoration from you, and he allowed his tail to drape across your legs in a subtle concession to your own desires.

Beyond that, he was still, but he was content.

"Rest," you were intoxicated with this voice, one you couldn't help but wonder how few beings had heard it, one free of any performance - honest, soft. "You will need it before you continue your journey. When you wake you'll be in camp with your cohorts, and when you reach the city again you will return to me."

In your last moments of consciousness, you remained his eager little pup.

masterlist. baldur's gate III masterlist.

#raphael bg3 #raphael baldur's gate 3 #raphael x tav #raphael x reader #haarlep x tav #haarlep x reader #raphael smut #bg3 smut #raphael fanfic

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annwrites · 1 month ago

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⸻ the last unicorn ; part one ⸻

❝love is slowing you down, my lady. i will catch you at last, if you love much more.❞ — peter s. beagle

· pairing: aemond targaryen x unicorn!reader · type: mini-series · summary: aemond finds the most magnificent creature he's ever laid eyes upon in the kingswood. and when he returns in the evening to gaze upon you one last time, he finds himself further left for breath at the unexpected discovery before him. and rather than part with you, he contacts a witch to give him what he desires most...for forever. · tags: love at first sight, innocence, covetousness, angst · word count: 2,935

You are the loveliest mare he has ever set eyes upon.

Your coat is as white as the driven snow—untouched and gleaming. And your mane is long and smooth, and glimmers in the dappled sunlight that shines down upon you between swaying green leaves which comprise the canopy above.

You drink quietly from a babbling brook, wholly unaware of the gaze focused on you from a distance.

He takes a step forward—not measured enough, as he’s entirely enraptured by your beauty—and a twig snaps underfoot, causing your head to jerk up and in his direction.

He stills, as do you. But for him, it is not from wariness or fear, but wonder and disbelief.

“It can’t be,” he whispers. “For none now live.”

Your tail sways behind you and you crook your head.

He grins at the sight while taking another step forward, desperate to place even just one lone hand upon you. It is only through the act of doing so that he will believe that his remaining eye is indeed not deceiving him.

You take a step back and he shakes his head while extending a palm, shooshing you, hoping to calm you.

“It’s alright,” he states—gently. “I don’t want to harm you.”

You exhale and your ears twitch as you listen to words you do not understand.

“You’re quite lovely. Very much so. You are the last of your kind. Do you know that?”

His eyes travel along the polished opalescent horn that juts from the middle of your forehead before looking back into your own.

“It must be a terrible thing to be all alone in the world. I can only imagine such a fate.”

You step back again and he pauses—for he is nearly there, and to lose you when he has only just found you…he cannot bear it.

But to see you alone is a gift from the Seven.

“My name is Aemond,” he tells you with a kind smile. “Targaryen. You should know you are not the first mystical creature I have come across. I rode one once, you know. Not a unicorn, of course, but a dragon.”

He swallows thickly, ignoring the stinging of his eye. “She’s gone now. Lost during the war. To my uncle—my foe. But I repaid the favor by driving my sword through his heart.”

He’s standing before you now, and you have, most surprisingly, not fled.

Painstakingly slowly, he raises a hand and holds his breath as he settles it on your neck.

You blink lazily at him while swishing your tail curiously.

He smiles while shaking his head. “You’re far too trusting. No one has ever hunted you before, have they, sweetling?”

Your eyes move downward, toward his pack.

“You’re quite fortunate in that. Next time someone comes through these woods, you need to run. Hide. If you must, drive your horn through them. Show them no mercy, for the wrong sort of ilk will not show any to you.”

You nudge your nose against his chest and he chuckles while scratching behind your ears. “You’re too gentle for such an act, though, aren’t you?”

He slips his fingers into your mane. “I am not a gentle man myself by nature. Not usually. But for you, I think I can make an exception. I’ve a reputation to maintain, but unicorns sing no songs, so I believe it safe to assume that my secret will be kept.”

You move your snout lower and nuzzle against his bag, sniffing.

And then he snorts. “Ah, I see. It is not me you want, but instead the treats I have to offer.”

He reaches into his brown leather satchel and retrieves a shiny red apple, which he offers to you.

You eat directly from his palm and his lip twitches at the ticklish feel.

“Gods, you are truly a sight to behold. It has been believed for some time by scholars from the Citadel and otherwise that you had all gone extinct. Have you always been here, in the Kingswood? Where do you hide yourself away, I wonder?”

You nudge his pack, wanting for more.

He promptly obliges your request.

He continues to speak while you snack. “It is written that you all are immortal. Rather—you are. And the most innocent and pure of creatures. I would not doubt it now after our chance meeting. I’ve also read…you come only to virgins.”

He grins. “I am certainly not that. So, I suppose the old adage is indeed true: not to believe all you read, or hear.”

You raise your head and stare at him dumbly.

His words sound like no more than a garbled mess to you. Human voices are so unpleasant to the ears. What are they in comparison to the wind, the birds, the rustle of leaves, and the things nature has to tell, which is far more important?

You turn away from him then, suddenly disinterested.

He cocks a brow, following along beside you, so you shake out your mane and hold your head high, wanting for solitude amongst your forest friends.

Men merely think themselves welcome here due to their own hubris. They believe all the earth is theirs for the taking because they consider themselves more intelligent and higher beings.

They forget that other things existed long before they, and will continue to remain longer after their bones blow like dandelion seeds in the wind. They know only of survival. It is what they do to the land: survive off of it. Instead, you live with it as one.

He does gain your interest once more, however, by offering you another apple.

He slides his hand down your back, smoothing your fur. “What might the people think of me if I were to return to the Red Keep atop the back of a unicorn, I wonder? The last remaining one in all the world. Presumably, that is.”

He steps around to the front of you and scratches beneath your chin. “Brief it may’ve been, but the Conqueror’s crown indeed suited me far better than it ever did my fool brother. I was more suited to the role as a whole. Yet, here I am now. In the middle of the Kingswood, passing my afternoon speaking to a horse.”

He could swear that you snort quietly in response, but knows he merely imagined it.

He glances back to his own mount across the way and sighs. “It will be dark soon enough; another day gone. I suppose I should be getting back to the Keep.”

He offers you one final apple, which you relieve him of immediately, and he presses a soft kiss to your mane—a most unexpected gesture—before reluctantly bidding you goodbye.

You do not watch as he goes.

During the night, sleep eludes Aemond and finds him entirely restless. He tosses and turns upon a featherbed which provides little comfort from the incessant thoughts of you which gather like a tempest within his mind.

He is quite tired, yes, but he knows that unless he journeys once more into the Kingswood to chance at having one final look upon you, he will find no peace. So he rises.

He knew it would be a wasted journey. Especially at this hour.

You are nowhere to be seen. A fact which he’s both disappointed, and gladdened by. Gladdened that perhaps some small part of you understood the warnings he spoke to you that afternoon: to run and hide if a man came calling upon the woods you call home.

He shakes his head, deigning himself foolish for even thinking to return here during the hour of the wolf. Since when does Aemond Targaryen, previous Prince Regent and Protector of the Realm, find himself preoccupied by a thing of fairytales?

Ridiculous.

Aemond makes to turn, until he hears the quiet rustle of leaves and he catches a glimmer of light reflecting off a pond across the way. A glimmer of light which grows and grows in fervor—entirely encapsulating you.

It nearly blinds him, and forces him to cover his eyes with his forearm to shield his vision.

In a moment, the spectacle is over and the night returns to darkness. The only illumination provided now being that of the silvery-blue moon in the sky which twinkling stars surround as they wink and kiss the inky black vision above.

Slowly, he drags his gaze upwards once more, squinting to see.

And then his breath lodges in his throat, choking him.

“How in Seven Hells…” He whispers in disbelief, for he does not believe his eye.

Not this time.

For he is surely sleepwalking. Trapped within a dream.

But if such a fact is so, he will kill any man who attempts to wake him.

You rise slowly on trembling legs—only two—and long silvery waves curtain your slim, naked form. You grip the bark of a tree to steady yourself as your body shakes against the cool night air.

His eyes trail along your pale skin—so pale, in fact, that it practically glows. Or perhaps it is just the moon casting you in its light that offers such an illusion.

And soft silver waves slip over your shoulders and shimmer in the light.

Your breasts are small and soft—proportionate to your body—with delicate pink nipples. You’ve womanly curves; the planes of which blend perfectly from your stomach and into your thighs like you are the finest sculpture he has ever lain his eye upon. Crafted by the hands of the Gods themselves you are. Created by the Maiden, for you are indeed her image made flesh.

He steps forward—wanting for answers, for explanation, no matter how impossible it might be—then pauses when you jerk your head in his direction.

You stare at him with wide, lilac eyes, and he shakes his head, sure he is trapped within a delusion of his own making.

He must touch you once more to assure himself otherwise.

“This is madness,” he says quietly, taking another step forward.

You bristle, and he raises a hand slowly, shooshing you—repeating his actions from some hours ago, in hopes of comforting you to his presence. “It’s alright, sweetling. We’ve met. Just today. Don’t you remember me?”

You blink dumbly at him.

“I brought you apples. You liked them.”

Your eyes flit to the pack at his side and he fills with relief.

You recall him indeed.

“I’m not here to harm you. I merely came to see you one last time. But I had certainly not expected this.”

He has nearly made his way around the pond, and you, quite fortunately, have not fled from him in fear.

“Can you change at-will, then? Or is it only the night which brings about this other form?” He asks curiously.

You merely stare at him, remaining unresponsive.

“Can’t you speak?” He asks with a furrowed brow.

You softly cock your head to the side, and silver strands slip over your shoulders, exposing your pert breasts to him, and he takes note of your pebbled nipples.

You’re cold.

Cautiously, he removes the cloak he has wrapped round his own shoulders, then holds it out toward you.

You take a tiny step back, but he still steps forward, fans it out behind you, then clasps it just below your neck.

And then he cups your chilled cheek in his palm.

“I thought you a vision,” he mutters, brushing his thumb along the apple of your cheek. “A creature come straight to me from my most impossible dreams.”

Your eyes flit between his while your lips remain silent.

“You don’t understand a thing I’m saying, do you, sweetling?”

You stare at him in response.

His lip twitches.

How entirely innocent and ignorant you are.

Perfect to mold, he thinks.

Until sunrise, that is.

He assumes, that, come the morn, you most likely return to your equestrian form.

But why? Has it always been this way for you? Are you not immortal, then, like he previously believed? Is this some sort of wretched curse bestowed upon you by a sorceress, warlock, moonsinger, or otherwise? Why punish such a beautifully quiet thing such as yourself? What could you have possibly done to deserve this?

To always be walking between two worlds, but belonging in neither—forever alone… What a horrid thing to be forced upon something as sweet and docile as you.

Quite boldly of you, you reach toward his pack, but he shoves it away on instinct.

You frown slightly, and then he smiles. “Forgive me, my sweet.”

He retrieves for you another apple and settles it into your expectant palm.

You promptly take a bite out of the crisp piece of fruit and lick your lips where sweet juice quickly gathers.

He groans lowly in the back of his throat at the sight, and does his utmost to ignore the slight swelling of his cock beneath his trousers.

He cups your other cheek then, holding you still and close as you take bite after bite while staring up and into his eye as he studies you.

Your long, silver strands slip easily between his fingers as he cups the back of your head affectionately. “If I did not know any better, I would think you are one of us: a true Targaryen. Or a Valyrian, forged in the fires of the Freehold.”

You lean slightly into his touch, merely liking the warmth his body has to offer and provide against the chill of this late hour, but he translates the simple gesture to have a far different meaning: that already you can feel it as well—this invisible ribbon which binds the two of you into one. It wraps your destinies together into a singularly divine fate.

Once you’ve finished with your treat, you lower your arm to your side and drop it. It softly thuds against the forest floor, then rolls down the embankment and into the pond at your side.

You hear a quite splash, and you smile slightly, knowing its remaining core is now feeding one of your friends.

You look at the strange man with one eye again, and your brows furrow in confusion as he closes it and begins to lean forward while slipping an arm beneath the cloak he wrapped around you to combat the chill.

He slides his hand along your waist before settling his palm against the small of your back so you might remain close to him.

And then he presses his lips to yours.

Your body stiffens and your eyes grow wide.

What is he doing? Is this a sort of odd greeting humans give each other, then? A strange form of communication, perhaps?

You blink, then try to swallow, but it’s precisely when your lips part that he slips his tongue into your mouth.

That is when you jerk away.

Aemond chuckles from amusement, then presses a firm, tender kiss to your forehead before leaning forward and resting his own against it.

“My sweet girl,” he whispers. “The Gods blessed me by putting you in my path.”

He pulls back slightly while tucking silver locks behind your ear. “You must be terribly lonely here. Are you not?”

You glance toward the pond, then back to him, wishing he’d let you go so you might stretch your legs for awhile.

“I could change that,” he says—his voice a whisper upon the wind. “At the very least, I can bring someone here who could. Who could keep you in this preferable form…for forever.”

You glance behind him and watch as a doe trots along with her little fawn close to her side.

“I could make you a princess,” he states, earning your attentions once more. “A wife, a mother. You could have fine things and live in a grand castle. Resplendent gowns, jewels, and servants at your beck and call would be yours for the taking. If you wish it—whatever you do—I will make it so. My jester of a brother is not long for this world. And once the Gods have come to call him home, I will ascend his throne.”

His grows quite serious then. “And you might be my bride, if you so covet a crown for yourself as I do. It will be just as lovely as you, I swear it.”

He slides his hand along the soft curve of your waist, then settles it just above the swell of your rear.

“We could make perfect little heirs. Silver hair, violet eyes, and pale skin. The very image of descendants of Old Valyria. None would question their parentage for a moment as they did my dead half-sister’s. Not that I would ever indulge myself by bringing bastards into this world. I would sooner put such abominations to the sword.”

You try to take a step back, unsettled by the wild look in his eye…but he holds firm.

“I want you,” he states lowly. “And I will have it so.”

He smiles, then brushes a kiss along your cheek. “You’ll be pleased with what I next intend to do, sweetling. I swear it. And once you are mine, I will have the finest septas teach and tutor you in how to be a proper princess and wife. You will learn to speak as I do. And I will treasure the moment when you finally utter the words of your undying love, stemming from thankfulness toward me, from having given you the gift of our blessed union.”

He pulls you into his chest and holds you in his arms, knowing it is exactly where you belong. “You’ve no idea the life that awaits you at my side.”

#fic: hotd (aemond targaryen x reader)#aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x reader #hotd x oc #hotd x reader #hotd imagine #hotd fanfiction #hotd fanfic #yandere aemond targaryen #yandere aemond x reader

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paper-mario-wiki · 1 year ago

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Shangri-La Frontier mid-season review

This is by far the best fake video game I've ever seen written in fiction.

Most MMO-centric isekai stories have trouble with providing accurate and realistic depictions of the complexities and minutia that give MMOs the allure they have. I've seen so much handwavey bullshit tacked onto fake-games that introduce unrealistically overlooked mechanics for reasons like giving the protag immense power just because they're the protag and the story is about them. A good example of this is another MMO Isekai airing this season, "A Playthrough of a Certain Dude's VRMMO Life", wherein the main character becomes extremely rich, powerful, and famous by episode 2 because he stumbled into a stealth archer playstyle, a build which apparently no human in that universe had ever conceived of before, and then making a fortune by selling basic potions to everyone after NPCs stopped selling them (another thing he was uniquely able to do because not a single other player had the forethought to spec into alchemy). These lesser, dime-a-dozen isekai add up to be boring fantasy strories with gaming elements clumsily put in so that the author can demonstrate how powerful the world's inhabitants are by showing their stat allocation screen instead of, say, explaining anything about what they do that's so uniquely powerful and how they figured it out. Ya know, stuff you'd hope to hear about from any competent story.

Shangri-La Frontier is a breath of fresh air for anyone who, like me, is sick of authors ignoring the things that actually make video games compelling in service of creating a stock-standard narratives in fantasy worlds because it allows them to get away with bullshit. I've always found it very convenient that many isekai narratives indulge in things like chattel slavery, because it's societally normal enough for the protag to purchase a beautiful, vulnerable girl to add to his harem (dont worry, she is always inexplicably in love with him no matter what because he's SUCH a kind master). And it never really seems to go anywhere. Because the Video Game Isekai, while an interesting premise in theory, is more often than not used exclusively as a means to simplify the structure of a world's power scaling to abide by an arbitrary set of omnipresent universal rules (e.g. what people who have never cared to look into game development think of video games). This anime, by comparison, is VERY clearly authored by someone who plays a LOT of games.

Every piece of logic used to drive the plot forward, so far, is congruent to a real-world example of video game conventions, and I'm not just talking about levelling up and selling monster parts. Story elements that I've rarely (if ever) seen explored in other isekai are ever-present and genuinely clever and amusingly introduced. My favorite example of this so far has been the way the protagonist has been able to go head to head with so many overlevelled foes in the first 9 episodes. The story of course makes note of how good of a gamer Sanraku (our hero) is, but much like in real life games, being super duper good at dodging attacks doesn't really make up for a 70 level gap in items and learned skills. For that reason, he gets his ass whooped more often than he actually outsmarts others (so far he hasn't beaten a single player in pvp). So how is he getting out of these situations without dying so frequently? Simple: he got access to a later area too early relative to his level (sequence break) and got access to a high level follower NPC that's been carrying him. This is something he acknowledges directly several times, specifically using words like "Emul has been hard-carrying me for a while." This, to me, is extraordinarily meaningful. That's something you can exploit in Skyrim, man. That's REALISTIC CHEESE STRATS. The excitement and wonder I find in this show doesn't come from watching the protag do something unexpected, but by watching him do something that I would think to do.

This knowledge the author has demonstrated regarding modern gaming culture extends further into the actual realistic nature of game design and community. The story exists in a reality where full-dive VRMMOs are the be-all-end-all of gaming, and given the prohibitively expensive nature of developing and designing expansive, immersive worlds, most games are pretty shit. It's been hinted at so far that this is due to a monopolistic megacorp which is one of the only entities rich and powerful enough to make a good game (the game in question being the one that shares the title of the anime), but so far the strife of the characters have been pretty centralized to the happenings of the game world and its politics. By the way, lets talk about the game world's player base politics, which I'm also quite pleased with. It exists in the form of guilds and clans who struggle for power not by participating in seemingly random pvp with other powerful players to see who is the most epic and badass warrior (again, like many contemporary isekai typically opt for), but by gaining actual realistic support from a fictional playerbase with realistic desires and playstyles. Some guilds are interested in lore, some gather for alliance and boss raids, some for things like animal husbandry, and (naturally) at least one is dedicated to trolling and PKing. Each of these factions, through the very little that we've seen of them so far, communicate on forums and only know as much as is reasonable for them to know. The only reason they give a shit about the protagonist at all is because he gained access to a high-level unique scenario quest that they want information on how to access, and the only reason word of that got out in the first place was because someone posted a screenshot of him with a unique NPC onto a forum, asking about it as "where can i find this pet summon, its super cute!" That's real. That's video games, baby.

I like this show a lot so far. I like that it cares about video games, but I also like its writing. I like the main character and how hes less of an ultra badass super cool guy, and more of an earnest challenge-run lets player. Like, a lot of his dialogue straight up sounds strikingly similar to Japanese youtubers. And he's naturally always quick to point out inconsistencies in the game world's logic. I ALSO really like his community of pals from a janky old fighting game, and I ADORE the girl from his school who has a crush on him and also just so happens to be an exceptionally high level player from a top clan, and how she had to spend 9 episodes working up the courage to send him a friend request. I love that so, so much, dude.

I highly recommend this show if you're into a single thing I've mentioned. The animation is great. The world is beautiful. The character design is immaculate. And I'm looking forward to watching it continue.

#text #shangri la frontier

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mysteryshoptls · 1 year ago

Text

Fellow Honest Battle Lines

Battle Start

You'll see just what Fellow Honest is capable of.

When Selected

Leave it to me.

Okay.

You good with that?

Uh-huh?

I'll do it for ya.

Using an Effect

Buffs: So troublesome.

Debuffs: No fooling around!

When Attacked

Ahee!

When Attacking

Single Hit (by himself): If First Attack: ー　I got this. ー　Fwahahahaha! If Second Attack: ー　Dum dee dum ♪ ー　You little brats...

Single Hit (with another student): If First Attack: ー　There it is! ー　Oh, man. If Second Attack: ー　Hmph! ー　Hup!

Double Hit (by himself): If First Attack: ー　How dare you look down on me! ー　I bet I could make a fortune. If Second Attack: ー　I'm going to win! ー　You fell for it, hook, line and sinker. ー　Just quit school already! (foe only)

Double Hit (with another student): If First Attack: ー　Let's have some fun. ー　Come on, come on! If Second Attack: ー　These stuck-up little... ー　Go, Gidel!

Triple Hit: If First Attack: ー　I hope you'll go easy on me. ー　See my agile cane skills! If Second Attack: ー　Oh me, oh my! ー　Don't be givin' me a hard time...

Magic 3: ー　Ah, see, just as I expected. ー　If this goes well... ー　From now on, everything'll be alright! ー　An easy mark.

Battle End

Being an actor is hard work, you know.

Requested by @wysteriadelights.

#twisted wonderland #twst #fellow honest #twst fellow #twst translation #twst stage in playful land

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evillesbianvillain · 28 days ago

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The thing with Veilguard, is that a lot of people who didn't like the videogame put all the blame on EA becuase the development was rushed and messy and some idiot had the idea to make it a multiplayer MOBA game or whatever the fuck it was going on and that can excuse some of the stuff going on in Veilguard:

everybody calling you Rook, a nickname a dwarf youve known for a month gave you, instead of your surname, especially ridicolous if you are a Grey Warden, you know, a member of a paramilitary order, and your boss calls you that. How certain factions, especially the Lords of Fortune but also the Mourn Watchers and Veil Jumpers are underdeveloped (but according to John Epler they decided to make less sidequests to focus better on a few of them and they ended up just being fetch quests or "kill these guys" for the most). Why you can't directly talk to your companions and ask them questions but have to stalk them through the lighthouse and hope they reveal something of themselves to your other companions (again, John Epler said this was a purpose choice they made and its a stupid one but I want to break a spear and say that it was probably because they didn't have the time to code or write every direct dialogue with Rook but I don't really know how these things work). Not being able to visit Minrathous.

But so much of it is an issue that started in the writing and developer room.

You cannot roleplay in the role playing game. Scratch the "there are not serious consequences of your action" part, we can file that under rushed development if we want to be nice. But you can only play as a nice, well meaning, always slightly sarcastic heroic Rook and that was a deliberate choice. You're basically only playing as purple Hawke. I don't want to play as purple Hawke. For an instance, I chose - obviously - the Grey Warden backstory (which I hated, all the backstories are the same, heroic Rook winning against a foe but disobeying orders and being punished by the mean higher ups) and when you do the mirror scene I chose the dialogue option that said "I have been impulsive when I saved that village and could've made things worse", but then when I'm talking to the first Warden and he reprimends me I can ONLY defend my actions and not agree with him or apologize for them. I wanted to play as a stern warden, respectful of the order and its authority, but the game doesn't let me do that.

The whitewashing of the narrative. Every faction (except the Grey Wardens) is super duper nice, they are all freedom fighters with XXI century politics. All the leaders of every faction believe you at face values about Super Evil Elven Gods and are willing to give you their help to slay them (except the Grey Wardens). All the factions are stripped of any nuance or of the infamous Bioware's grey morality (except the Grey Wardens, as the game, at any step, wants to reming you how stupidly secretive, kinda cultist-y and fucked up they are and how that is not a Good Thing). Especially annoying with the Crows, the local assassin's group of Antiva that is renowned for buying desinfranchised kids and torture them to make them the perfect assassins, and the Lords of Fortune, who are now the anti Indiana Jones of Thedas (but still tomb jackasses).

The whitewashing, or purposeful ignoring, of social conflict in Thedas. This game is set up partly in Tevinter and specifically in a district of Minrathous, but we not once encounter the slavery that the Imperium is built on, or racism against elves and qunari. And don't tell me "there are no slaves because Dock Town is a poor district of Minrathous", that is not how empires built on slave labour work, especially considering that Tevinter has always been based on the Roman Empire. Who do you think loads and unloads the cargo ships that dock there? You think slaves are only kept in the house and occasionally used for blood magic rituals? Not to mention that the faction for Dock Town is the Shadow Dragons, whos main work is freeing slaves, but not once we do a quest that revolves around that. And it's funny that they abandoned the entire issue with the mages and the Chantry "because we are in North Thedas" when the Chantry is a egemonical religion in Thedas. Zevran tells us that templars in Antiva guard mages like "jealous husbands", the Circle of Mages of Rivain was destroyed because they accused women there or summoning demons and the Anderfells are known for having the most pious followers of the Chantry in Thedas. I understand not making the mage issue a focus like it has been for the past three games, but to just dropt it like that is ridicolous. They didn't even do anything with the Tevinter Chantry and the Black Divine, something, I think, everybody was curious about. Ah but don't worry! We have the main dalish companion apologize 3000 times because the elves are at fault for everything going on in the world.

The characters are all shallow. There are very little important NPCs in this game and you can't directly talk to any of them if not during specific cutscenes during the story. John Epler (it's always him or Weekes lmao) said they wanted to avoid meaningless cameos but then they threw in the game characters from other games like Morrigan, Dorian, Isabela, Maevaris who was actually not from a game, but a comic, so I would've liked to know more about her, and doesn't let you interact in any way with them. Varric, for the love of god, there is no way for someone who is playing Dragon Age for the first time to give a shit about this guy. Who are these people. What do they want. Who are the leaders of these factions. The companions as well. You cannot talk to them but have to hope they will say something about themselves during random party banters in the Lighthouse and then they will have crafted cutscenes for the stupidest shit like Lucanis making Harding drink coffee. You know how some people dislike Varric, Garrus and Liara because the games want you to like them? This is what it feels with all the companions, and the forced found family is so on the nose it becomes unbearing. The romances are underwhelming, or so I am told by everyone. Davrin, who is in my opinion the best character in this game, has most of his character and quest revolving around a fucking rat with wings and all the stuff about his relationship with the dalish or wardens comes up in random party banters, again, instead of him telling me directly about it. The only relationship between companions that I found slightly compelling is between Davrin and Lucanis because they are the ONLY characters with an actual conflict going on, every other conflict is resolved immediately either by Rook stepping up and going "stop fightiiiiing why are you fightiiiiiing" or by the constrast being actually a misunderstanding, hey isn't it nice how every one of our companions are super duper nice guys who can do no wrong (like Bellara and Taash). Do you miss Mordin Solus? I know I do.

Connected to the characters issue, why the hell is the approval/disapproval system even a thing? It's impossible to lose approval from characters in this game, while they'll approve literally you standing in their vicinity. I've never worked SO HARD to try and lose approval with my companions, and it's impossible. Just, throw it away at this point, you have already implemented another system (the bond one) and are trying to work on a mass effect model, so atp just do that.

The villains oh my fucking god. This ties with the whitewashing of every good faction I have to ally with, as all the villains are super evil "bullies" with nothing else going on behind them. Maybe the only villain with something different going on is Isseiya, but all the others are faceless, corrupted evil hordes to be mowed down with Super Duper Evil leaders that have nothing going on if not a desire for Power and Conquest? Do you remember when Gereon Alexius was a desperate father who would've done everything to save his son from the Blight? Do you remember when Calpernia was an ex slave with a dream of revitalizing the Imperium by uplifting the slaves as citizens? Do you remember Meredith and the Arishok? Do you remember Loghain?? And like every side or personal quest villain/antagonist, the Evanuris are ONLY driven by power and power and power and they are so evil because they want power more power still power.

The missing/ignored plot threads. They hinted at us for years about the upcoming Tevinter/Qunari war and that went nowhere. What about the mentioned crisis/internal war/split between the Grey Wardens? Nothing. Where are Fen'hare's agents? Apparently they left Solas' side because he was a meanie and we know that because of a reddit AMA. The awakened darkspawns? Darkspawns now are officially a mindless horde and [insert GRRM piece on orc genocide] so don't worry about it.

They want a new slate in case they ever get to work on another Dragon Age in the future, and that's so obvious from certain narrative choice they made in the game, all happening far far away from us and that we know throw some fucking letters the Inquisitor sends to us and the most glaring one is the complete destruction of Southern Thedas, especially Ferelden.

The combat is... polarizing for me. On one hand, it is a mildly enjoyable action combat, and when you get over the heartbreak of never being able to build a mage like in Origins and having some tactic going on, it is fine, it is flashy enough to be enjoyable at least. But the enemy variety is terrible, the bosses are reused to hell and back and on top of that they are for the most normal enemies that are given a boss health bar (if i think about it, im pretty sure there is only one unique boss ive met so far, the archdemon, and it's such a pathetic boss fight)

The art direction. While I love, and I mean LOVE, the character design for your companions and whenever I look at them I get mad because such good design... wasted for these characters and this game. I do not like the art direction. I hate how everything has been scifi-ed, the eluvians now have rgb lights and they look like twitch streamers PCs or prothean artifacts, Bellara's magical gloves are fucking nanomachines and she literally works her magic like a mechanic. Not to mention the architecture and the neon signs in Dock Town. Most of the armors are ugly as hell and I want to talk with whoever designed the Lords of Fortune armors.

This scifi-cation carries out in the soundtrack as well, with a subpar score from Hans Zimmer.

I understand that it's not possible to work around every single choice made in the past three games, but some stuff is too important to just, leave it alone. Northern Thedas is still in Thedas and it's politically connected to it. Who the Divine is should be important, if my warden has died should matter, if Morrigan had a child should matter. They don't even make her mention the hero of ferelden EVER, whenever people talk about her they say she was a witch of the wilds and then worked with the Inquisition. ISN'T THERE A BIG GAP IN YOUR RESUME, MORRIGAN? Shouldn't a Grey Warden Blackwall be at Weisshaupt/Hossberg? But then, even the choices they have you make at the start regarding your Inquisitor are red herrings, the only thing the game cares about is wether your Lavellan romances Solas or not.

This game thinks we're stupid. I am constantly explained, over and over again what is going on. I am playing this game. I just saw the scene that has been recapped by Varric and then recapped by a text and then recapped by the characters chilling around a table commenting the scene. Not to mention all the time Rook and the companions say "We need to be in our best mind place to win this fight, we need to focus on ourselves, we need to think about ourselves first and then we can focus on the Evil Elven Gods" which is a little less on the nose way to say "do our personal quests". Insanely PG13 game.

Therapy speak.

And I think I'm done, at least for now. I have a lot of other issues but most of them are nitpicky and it's just me being annoying.

#datv #dragon age #veilguard critical #official 2k words post

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todaysdocument · 2 months ago

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President Proclamation 3629 of November 19, 1964, by President Lyndon B. Johnson declaring Sunday, November 22, 1964, a day of national rededication in honor of John F. Kennedy.

Record Group 11: General Records of the United States GovernmentSeries: Presidential Proclamations

JOHN F. KENNEDY-- A REDEDICATION

BY THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

A PROCLAMATION

In John Kennedy's life he drew guidance from history. In death he has entered and enriched it.

For history is more than the record of man's conflict with nature and himself. It is the knowledge which gives dimension to the present, direction to the future, and humility to the leaders of men. A nation, like a person, not conscious of its own past is adrift without purpose or protection against the contending forces of dissolution.

Thus America will draw continual strength and direction from his story. And the intensity and love with which we celebrate his greatness will be a measure of our own.

He had one quality which we must now strive to share. He saw the world and its problems in all their fantastic complexity. A thousand blending shades of interest and outlook made up a challenge where difficulty was piled upon difficulty and danger upon danger.

Yet he was unshaken in his faith that man's problems could be solved by man, and in his determination to make the effort.

We too must have the courage to confront complexity, never permitting it to sever the nerve of action or dull the edge of faith.

He had qualities of greatness. But it is among the hazards of fortune whether character will join with circumstances to produce great deeds.

It can be said of him, as Thomas Jefferson said of George Washington: "Never did nature and fortune combine more perfectly to make a man great, and to place him in everlasting remembrance."

NOW, THEREFORE, I, LYNDON B. JOHNSON, President of the United States of America, do proclaim Sunday, November twenty-second, 1964, a day of national rededication.

On that day, let the word go forth, to friend and foe alike, that the vision of John F. Kennedy still guides the Nation which was the source and the object of his greatness.

In churches and homes everywhere, on November twenty-second, let us rededicate ourselves to the pursuit of those ideals of human dignity in which he believed and whose course he so brilliantly illuminated.

IN WITNESS WHEREOF, I have hereunto set my hand and caused the Seal of the United States of America to be affixed.

DONE at the City of Washington this nineteenth day of November, in the year of our Lord nineteen hundred and sixty-four, and of the Independence of the United States of America the one hundred and eighty-ninth.

Lyndon B. Johnson

By the President:

Dean Rusk

Secretary of State.

#archivesgov #november 19 #1964 #1960s #jfk #john f kennedy #lbj #lyndon b. johnson

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tanoraqui · 15 days ago

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[some time in the Fifth Age, in Aman...]

"A living language changes, you blithering idiot." A familiar, heated voice rose unprompted from across the room, over the genial hubbub and burble of the fountain show gala. "If it does not, then it must be dead indeed, for it cannot be being sustained by the breath of speakers! The only 'uncertainty' in this 'debate' is how you can call yourself a linguist if you do not understand this basic principle!"

Fingolfin barely processed the words, not in that voice. If he had, he would not have believed his own ears. If he had somehow believed his own ears, he would have suspected mockery, or a ploy, or perhaps necromantic possession.

Fortunately, his reflexes for winning arguments were faster than any other working of his mind.

"I knew it!" he shouted, rounding on his brother from across the wide hall. He abandoned his conversation partner entirely in order to advance on Fëanor, alight with righteous victory. "I knew you agreed with the basic principle! You stubborn, contrary, illogical—"

"Oh, shut up, Nolofinwë." Fëanor likewise dismissed entirely the upstart linguistics professor he'd been haranguing, in favor of his older foe. A corridor had opened between them, as party-goers scrambled out of the crossfire or backed up to get a better view. "You've never met a principle of study nor logic that you didn't wish to twist to suit—"

"'A living language changes!'" Fingolfin quoted back over him, too elated to rise to any other bait. He drained his entire wine glass, slapped it down on the lip of a fountain in passing, and advanced enough to jab Fëanor in the chest with one finger. He grinned. "I knew it. You knew it. I was right."

Fëanor's face had, over the course of this exchange, made a very rapid shift from his original proud irritation to the embarrassment of being caught out to a familiar fiery sneer. It now settled into an even more familiar murderous glower.

"I have reconsidered my past positions in the face of new evidence and argument," he hissed. "It is the sign of an intelligent, ever-developing mind at work. I only wish you could say the same—"

Hands pushed them apart, followed by arms, followed by an entire Lalwen, aided by the stylish circumference of her skirts.

"Sweet Erudition, neither of you has changed a whit," she muttered.

Gripping the front of both their robes in a way that suggested that she could be choking them if she wanted to, she said more loudly, "My dear brothers! Joyous though I am at our collective ongoing reconciliation—" (she discreetly twisted Fëanor's robe in an ever so slightly choking manner, to remind him that she, too, had been entirely correct the entire time about the stupid thorn) —"perhaps we should take any further discussion outside? This is, after all, a debut of liquid forms, not a forum of linguistic debate!"

#ficlet #my fic #aman ever after #fingolfin #feanor #lalwen #the silmarillion #lalwen: if i do clever enough wordplay maybe people will not notice my brothers ruining ANOTHER party

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mermaidgirl30 · 10 months ago

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✨Love Amidst The Blue Part 1: Discovering the Siren✨

Series Masterlist

A/N: Welcome to my little mermaid au world featuring sailor! Joel 💙 I hope you enjoy this story I put together, and please tell me what you think! Comments and reblogs always appreciated and thank you to @mountainsandmayhem for reading over this and giving me suggestions! 🥰

Summary: Joel sets out on the Tyrrhenian Sea with his crew in search for hidden treasure. What he doesn’t know is that he’ll meet a beautiful mermaid that will turn his world upside down. Will he win her over or will he introduce a long ago foe to the mermaids of the hidden underwater city of Capri?

Pairing: sailor! Joel x mermaid fem! reader

Word Count: 9.1k

Rating: Explicit (18+ Only MDNI)

Tags: Longing, feelings, eventual smut, Joel discovers a mermaid, mermaids try to drown Joel, slight angst

Dividers by @firefly-graphics and @saradika-graphics

The crystal blue water of the Tyrrhenian Sea is calm, the wind gently blowing the sails of the Deep Blue Oasis as it rocks back and forth slowly. That was the name of Joel’s boat, one of his most prized possessions. A gateway to the unknown where he could clear his mind and get lost on the aqua ocean tides that have called to him for as long as he could remember.

A call to the side of him that loves history , ancient things, and to the treasure hunter in himself. He spent countless days out on the tides of the sea, always looking for hidden treasures that may be hiding under the deep blue water. His scattered map was marked with red inked circles and x’s of areas where there was said to be lost treasures down below. He swore to his father he’d find them one day and make him proud.

Joel’s father was a wealthy businessman, always focused on the clients in Italy and making a fortune of his own. Joel didn’t want to follow in his footsteps. He wanted to be out on the sea, out where the ocean breeze could ruffle through his curly locks and carry him into the unknown. He always loved the water and the salty sea air, always wanted to become a sailor to travel the world. His father never approved of it, though. He said it was a waste of time and money, until that dark day that he passed away. His last dying breath was him telling Joel to buy a big boat and sail. Make me proud, son. Follow your dream. Those words still haunt him to this day, the few words he begged his father to say his entire life. So on his thirtieth birthday, that’s exactly what he did.

Five years later Joel had his own boat, his own crew, his own freedom to do as he pleased. His crew wasn’t the most trustful men, but they earned his trust little by little. He befriended some filthy pirates on one of his sea explorations a couple of years ago. At first they threatened him, but he was smart and talked them out of stealing from him and taking over his boat. He offered them so much money that they couldn’t refuse. They agreed to work for him and show him parts of the sea that he’d never been to. Sure, they had their flaws and their bad habits, but he couldn’t do this without them. So he decided to give them a chance.

Joel unfolds his large map of the area and lays it out flat on the side of the railings, studying the area like he knows exactly where he’s headed to. He rolls up his white cotton sleeves and traces lines of the faded map, mapping out this specific area with the tip of his finger.

“Captain Miller, the boys think it’s in this area,” Jasper voices over the blowing breeze, making Joel stop to look up from his marked map.

“What is?” he asks with a raised brow.

“The hidden underwater city of Capri,” Jasper says with excitement in his flushed swampy eyes. His linens are tattered, his blonde hair outgrown and unkempt, his crooked smile waning up at Joel as mischief plays in his scattered mind.

“I thought that was just a folktale? The underwater city. People have searched for years and found nothing. What makes you so sure this place is here?” Joel asks with narrowed dark eyes, waiting for an honest answer from his so-called pirate friend.

“Mermaids, cap’n. They’re here in this area,” Jasper says with the gleam of his eye, sure of himself as much as he’s sure of how to sail this boat.

“Mermaids…” Joel questions, flicking his eyes out to the blue tides as the water gently laps at the large rocks in the water. “I’ve never seen a mermaid, Jas. Only seen them in some old books in my study. As far as I’m concerned, they aren’t here.”

Joel starts to turn around, but Jasper catches his arm. “I swear on my life, mate. They're as real as you and me. Seen one with my own eyes. Not long ago either. Beautiful creatures they are, their siren songs able to hypnotize anyone who dares to look them in the eyes. Saw one drown one of my men before. Grabbed him by the arm and pulled him under with her song. He was never seen again,” he says with sad eyes, looking out into the bright horizon as seagulls and pelicans flock the sunny sky.

Joel ticks his jaw and looks out amongst the miles and miles of open ocean, only seeing the lapping waves as they hit the bottom of the boat. “Jasper, I’m gonna have to see one with my own eyes to believe it. Maybe it was sun poison that made you see things.”

“It wasn’t sun poison, Joel! If you won’t believe me, then I pray one day you do see one. Am I one to lie?” he asks with a heated stare and a hand on his grimy hip.

Joel knits his brows together and stares for a minute at the pirate that swears on his life he’s seen a mermaid. While Jasper doesn’t usually lie to Joel, he’s still a pirate. Still willing to lie and cheat his way around the system. But he’s also the most trustful of his crew, so he’s torn. Maybe it wasn’t a mermaid he saw, but maybe another sea creature. Yes. That’s what it must’ve been. Something else.

Joel puts a hand on Jasper’s shoulder and nods his head. “Sure, Jas. But let’s keep our eyes out for this.” Joel puts his index finger on the red x that’s marked right around the sea cave that sits a few hundred feet from the boat. Supposedly there was a ship wreck that happened years ago, and men have tried and failed to discover what great treasures were lost to the sea that day. Those who go in, never come out. Joel would find out, though. One way or another he’d discover the secret of what happened so many years ago.

“Go on and have the men anchor the boat. Wanna stay here overnight and see if we can find anything.”

Jasper nods his head and huffs out a breath. “Yes, cap’n. Right away.” He turns and yells at the men to hoist the anchor and get ready to search the area.

Joel folds the map back up and places it in the pocket of his tan trousers. He sighs and looks out at the massive sea cave, watching the waves churn calmly against the rough rocks.

Mermaids. There couldn’t be any. He would’ve seen one before, would’ve remembered if he did. He lets his thoughts go back to the task at hand and clears his mind. No time to think of maybe’s and false folklore. It was time to find some treasure.

The water is crystal clear today, sunlight beaming through the long seaweed that sits tangled in the ocean. You swim your way past a pod of dolphins, waving hello to the newborn calves as they whistle out their greetings. You dive down hundreds of feet and hum your favorite lullaby. The one your mom used to sing you every night before you fell asleep in the comfy bed of a massive clam shell.

A school of colorful fish swim past you, and you smile up at them as you propel yourself faster to get to your favorite discrete area of the bay. You call it the moonlight sea cave because at night you can see the moon shine all the way through the entire cave system, even under the water. It’s beautiful, a place where you can go to think and relax.

You always have to sneak off to this area. Your sisters would never approve, and you shudder thinking how your father would react. How many times has he told you to never go up to the surface again? How many times had your sisters dragged you back home over the years? You couldn’t keep track, didn’t want to think about it.

After that awful day that happened so many years ago, you weren’t supposed to want to go back up to the surface. You weren’t supposed to look for treasure that humans always dropped off their boats, but you still did. And you definitely weren’t supposed to be this close to shore, but you were still quite a ways out. Your father would kill you if he found you swimming around these parts, but you chose to ignore his wishes like you always did.

You swim up to the surface and lift your face into the sunlight, breathing the fresh salty air as you inhale the warm breeze. You push your long hair over your shoulder and take a few strides through the water, floating in the waves as the salt water dries on your shoulders.

When you look up, you freeze as your blood runs cold. A boat, there’s a boat. It’s big, towering over the water as a crew of men work on casting nets and walk along the deck. You duck down in fear and hide behind a rock, hoping that they haven't seen you. You slowly peek your head around the corner and stop in your tracks when you see him. The most beautiful man you’ve ever laid your eyes on.

He’s tall, broad shouldered, and has the most beautiful smile you’ve ever seen. His hair is dark, tousled curls blowing in the wind as a few strands fall near his eyes. Brown, warm flecks coat his eyes. Eyes you could get lost in, eyes that you’d now dream about for days on end. And his arms. They’re strong, built, powerhouses that could take down a large man. The top buttons on his white cotton shirt are open, exposing tanned skin that must bathe in the sunlight on a regular basis.

You’re supposed to hate humans. You don’t trust them, you don’t think you could ever trust them again. But him… he looks like a walking dreamboat, a sailor you’d like to get to know. He doesn’t look like all the other ones, no. He looks kind, caring, maybe even dare you say trusting. But he’s a human, and you’re a mermaid. This can’t happen, this can’t ever happen.

Scar bumps your hip with his large fin as he makes a circle around you, warning you that you could be seen. “It’s okay, Scar. They can’t see me, I don’t think. It’s alright.”

He bumps you again with his snout and looks at you with his big black eyes, his dorsal fin coming just above the surface. He tells you to be careful, tells you he doesn’t want anything bad to happen to you. You only smile and brush your hand against his sandpaper like skin.

“I’m alright. Promise. Go on, I’ll be fine. Just gonna stay here for a few minutes,” you confirm. He huffs out a sigh and dives back down into the deep depths of the water, but he stays close. He always stays close. Who knew that a great white shark would be one of your best friends in the sea? They usually don’t want anything to do with mermaids, but you saved him that awful day that was full of bloodshed and death. And ever since then he never left your side. You were grateful for him. He was the best protector you ever had.

You stay there against the rock and lean your elbows up on it, continuing to watch the handsome man look over what looks like an old map of some sort. You lap your tail up and down in the water and lean your cheek against the rock, daydreaming of meeting the man with dark eyes.

He was going to get you in trouble, but you didn’t care. You’d risk your life just to get a chance to stare into the maps of his golden brown eyes.

Joel clings to the side of the boat as he digs his nails into the warm, polished wood. He turns his head to watch his crew stay busy on the deck as they bustle around and drag their worn out shoes against the floorboards. He sighs and takes another look at his intricate map, tracing his finger over every crevice of the parchment until he gets frustrated and throws his head up to look out on the bright horizon.

As soon as he looks up, he stops cold as he spots the gleam of a sparkling tail in the near distance. It’s not just a tail, there’s a girl leaning up against a rock that’s staring right back at him. He rubs his eyes to make sure it’s not the sun playing tricks on his mind, but she still appears there in the same spot just staring blankly at him. He sees a young woman who’s beautiful, dreamlike, something he only thought was a fantasy. He sees you, a mermaid…

Mermaids aren’t real, mermaids can’t be real. But how does he explain what he clearly sees now? You are very much real.

His ears ring with white noise, the sounds of his crew scrubbing along the deck nearly nonexistent now. It’s just you and him, staring at each other as if you’re the only two people out on the calm waters. It’s just the gentle breeze kissing his tanned skin and the distant noise of waves lapping against the rock that you so subtly lean against, eyes locking with each other as if the world crashes on its side to bring the two of you together.

He grabs his golden telescope, looking through the lense as you come into view just inches from his vision. The sight of you nearly knocks the breath out of him, his eyes widen as he takes in the beauty that sits before him. He thinks you’re the most beautiful creature he’s ever laid eyes on, thinks you’re absolutely divine, a treasure that should be well cared for.

His eyes trail down your lush curves, taking in the dusty coral colored seashells that cover your breasts, scanning every inch of your shimmering tail that’s soft pink as it flicks back and forth against the water. It’s almost sparkling like diamonds, maybe even soft to the touch. He wonders what you feel like, what you sound like. He bets your voice is like an angel’s, captivating and melodic like nothing he’s ever heard on earth. He wonders what your hands feel like, how they’d feel entwined in his own.

You should swim away, dive back underneath the blue water, but you can’t move. You can’t look away from the handsome stranger. You want to know his name, want to ask him all about what land life is like, want to know if his voice is as soft as his tousled curls look, want to see him again and again…

“Cap’n, whatcha lookin’ at?” Jasper asks as he comes up to Joel and nearly sends him over the edge of the boat. Joel drops the telescope from his unsteady hand, and it lands in a heap on the wooden deck. He scrambles to pick it up, and when he stands up and looks back out at the rock he sees that you’re gone.

He huffs out a sigh and shakes his head slowly. “It was nothing, Jas. Just thought I saw something. Was only a dolphin, nothing else,” he says with a hint of sadness on his tongue, wishing you were still on the rock so he could look into your entrancing eyes.

“Too bad it wasn’t a mermaid. Could’ve made you a true believer,” Jasper laughs as he hits Joel on the back of the shoulder with more force than he meant to.

“Yeah, too bad…” Joel says quietly as he stares at the vacant rock, doing nothing for his peace of mind as he wishes you were still there.

When he turns away from the rock, he sets his eyes back on the folded out map and grabs it up, heading toward the rest of his crew as they send down row boats to go inspect the area.

Joel makes a promise to himself then. Tonight he’ll go out late at night and look for you, hoping you’ll hear his thoughts that he wants to see you again. He will see you again. That’s a promise he will surely keep.

Later that night, Joel tosses and turns in his cabin quarters underneath the boat. He can’t sleep, can’t think as he tosses and turns back and forth in his bed. He thinks of you, the way your tail shimmered in the glow of the sun, how your eyes called to him from the deck of the boat. He needs to see you again. He needs to talk to you.

He crawls out of the bed and throws on his leather boots, lacing them up as he climbs up the stairs and enters into the glow of the full moon as the stars sparkle in the sky. He tiptoes around drunken pirates that are passed out cold on the deck, snoring and limbs scattered about as he passes them carefully to not wake them.

He paces the upper deck, sliding his hands along the edge, searching and searching for any sign of moment in the water. He only sees the faint laps of water against the boat, sees nothing out of the ordinary. He starts to doubt himself, maybe he saw nothing. Maybe it really was the sun playing tricks on his brain. It wouldn’t be the first time.

He sighs and starts to turn around, until he hears a soft melody carrying through the water. He turns around sharply and latches onto the wooden edge of the boat, eyes searching as he hears the sing-song voice start to come closer. It’s angelic, harmonious, nothing that he’d ever heard before. It sends him into a trance-like state, needing to find the owner of the beautiful song.

You wade through the water, flipping your tail as you hide behind the large rocks, singing the song of your people as you let your voice blow through the breeze, hoping he can hear you, hoping he’ll come.

Please, come. Come out to the sea, let me see your beautiful face.

You let your voice carry over the water, humming out melodic notes as you flip through the water. He has to come. He has to hear your voice, has to listen to you call him with your siren song. Come on, handsome sailor. Come find me.

You peek your head out from behind the rock and see him standing there on the deck, staring at you as his eyes go wide. You smile triumphantly as you duck back under the water, tempting him to come chase you.

Come get me, come get me. Find me under the water.

Joel wastes no time and lowers a wooden row boat to the water, climbing down a ladder as he jumps carefully onto the small boat as it rocks underneath his weight. He rows it out slowly to the middle of the water, searching his eyes every which way to find you.

“Where are you? Come out,” he whispers into the crisp night air.

He hears a splash to the left of him and throws his head in that direction. He sees small bubbles that form over the water, but there’s no sign of you. He sighs and pulls his eyes toward the rock and then he sees you.

He audibly gasps as you splash your tail and hide back behind the shelter of the big foundation in the water, nerves pulling in you as you’re so close to the human. The human with dark eyes and beautiful face. A human you want to meet.

He crawls to the edge of the little boat and places his hands on the edge, calling out to you in a deep voice that sends goosebumps down your arms. “Hey, come out. It’s alright, I won’t hurt you. Please, don’t hide,” he says, calmly holding out an arm as if he wants you to take it.

You peek your head out from behind the rock carefully and see him leaning against the boat, a little too close to the water. He doesn’t know what dangers lurk beneath him, what things would reach out and drag him under the water.

You shouldn’t go, shouldn’t talk to a human. Humans are bad, humans are cold, cruel, vial. They killed so many of your kind, tortured your friends of the sea. But him… Well, he looks kind. He looks… safe. Safe? Could humans be safe? No. Could they…

This was stupid and reckless. You start to turn back into the shadows until he calls out to you again. “Wait, please. Don’t go. Stay,” he pleads, his eyes searching yours with some kind of intensity and longing that you’ve never seen before. It frightens you more than the horrors humans have caused in your life.

Stay. The word wracks your brain over and over as it pulls at your insides.

Stay. He asked you to stay. You decide then that that’s exactly what you’ll do. You’ll stay. You’ll stay for him. You might regret it later, but for now this is what you wanted. What you needed to do.

You start to swim slowly over to him, diving under the water and breaching just inches from his wooden boat. You come up for air, realizing just how close you are to his face now. He’s so beautiful, the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen in your life.

His skin is tan, the sun bronzing him as he seems to spend days on end on the water. His shoulders are broad, so strong as your eyes trail down his thick arms, ropes of taut veins spread wide over his lower arms. His hands look strong, big, calloused from working on a boat. You bet they feel nice, would like to feel them pressed up against your face or maybe have them entwined with your fingers.

His dark, tousled curls kiss his forehead as stray curls fall over his skin. You have to stop yourself from reaching out your hand to push them back into place. You think it must feel so soft, so smooth…

And his eyes. God, his eyes. They’re deep brown, flecks of golden warmth sprawled across the crevices of his irises. They’re beautiful, deep, intricate as they study you carefully.

He digs his hands into the side of the boat and leans so far forward you’re afraid it may tip over. You make sure that it doesn’t because these waters are dangerous to humans, dangerous to men such as himself.

He looks at you with wide eyes, his lips parting as he takes in your features. He’s so close that he can make out details he couldn’t see up on the boat through the telescope. Like your eyes. He’d never seen such beautiful eyes such as yours. They glisten like the stars, almost as deep as the ocean itself, captivating and breathtaking.

He takes in your long hair that sits over your shoulders as you nervously run your hands through the damp strands. And then there’s your tail. That glittering, magnificent tail that almost looks too intricate to be real. He focuses on each shiny scale, watching the way the colors go from a deep pink to a lighter flamingo shade of coral. He wants so badly to reach his hand out to touch it, see how it feels underneath the weight of his calloused fingers.

Just one touch, that’s all he needs. One touch to make this dream a harsh reality as a mermaid sits right in front of him, right in his grasp.

You see the way he stares all transfixed and in a trancelike spell. You might be insane, but the first words fall from your lips without a hint of hesitation there. “Do you want to touch it?” you ask shyly, pulling back a lock of hair behind your ear as you position your tail so it’s sitting out of the water, just inches from his waiting hand.

“What?” he asks surprised, eyes wider than the full moon in the clear night sky.

“My tail. Do you want to touch it?” you ask again with more courage this time, flicking your tail above the water as you entice him to go on.

“Oh-uh… yes,” he whispers out as he slowly but steadily reaches his arm out, ever so carefully extending his fingers as they brush over the side of your tail.

He gasps as his fingers come in contact with the shiny scales, like the breath has been knocked clear out of him. It’s nothing like he imagined it’d be. It’s softer than he thought possible, smooth as he glides his fingers underneath the cold water.

You almost stop breathing as you feel his fingers explore the magnificent scales on your long tail, almost sigh at the contact of his skin. No one had ever touched you quite like this, even if it was just the brush of fingertips. It feels… good. And you want more, need more.

He pulls his hand back out of the water, and you almost whine as you lose the contact of his fingers. You’d let him touch you again, let him marvel your tail all night if he wanted to. It was silly really, how attracted you were to him when you only just met him. He was just that beautiful, that mesmerizing. And for a moment you think he is the siren, not you.

“You’re a… you’re a…” he stutters, voice hoarse as he continues to stare at you with a starstruck gaze. He’d never seen a mermaid before, that much is certain.

“A mermaid?” you finish for him, almost giggling at his gaping stare.

“Yes,” he says in disbelief, nodding his head up and down. “I didn’t know you, mermaids existed,” he says with a look that says everything you need to know. He’s harmless, not here to hurt you.

“Well, we’re very much real. We’re just discrete, careful. We don’t really come up to the surface, not anymore,” you say quietly, shaking away the memories of distant screams and bloodshed that once was long ago. The memories are too painful to relive, so you lock them out of your mind and try to forget every day that you exist in a world that did that to your kind.

He doesn’t ask about the distant sadness in your eyes, you just smile and clear your eyes as you continue to gaze up at him curiously.

“What’s your name?” he asks slowly, eyes never leaving yours as you let your name slip past your tongue. You drop it carefully, giving him information that seems too personal, but you’re in too deep now. You want to know about him, and he clearly wants to know about you. So you’ll let him in, even if that’s a bad idea. A very bad idea.

He repeats your name slowly, going over every syllable so carefully as it rolls off his lips effortlessly. It sounds beautiful the way he says it. You could lean against the edge of the boat and lay your head against your arm as you look up and hear him repeat your name over and over again. Almost like a lullaby as it could put you to sleep with how deep and mesmerizing his smooth voice sounds.

“My name’s Joel. Joel Miller,” he says with deep brown eyes looking down into yours.

You repeat the name over and over in your mind. Joel, Joel, Joel. It pulls at you, calls you as you hook your fingers around the edge of the small boat and feel his hand brush up against yours. You gasp and pull your hand back, feeling an electrical shock run through your entire arm at the connection of skin on skin with him. You’d never felt that before, that kind of connection with anyone. This was new, this was scary, this was dangerous.

He notices the panic in your eyes and puts his hands up calmly. “Hey, hey. It’s okay, darlin’. I’m not gonna hurt you. See?” he asks as he surrenders his hands, letting you know he means no harm.

Darlin’. The name sends warmth through your stomach as you mull over his words. I’m not gonna hurt you. You let those words be a promise as you cautiously put your hands back on the edge of the boat. He brings his hands back down, just enough where if you shift your fingers they’d brush up against his. But for now you stay like this, just enough to still feel that electricity deep in your body.

“Darling, what’s that?” you ask with a raised brow, not having heard the word before.

“You’ve never heard the word darlin’ before?” he asks as he knits his thick brows together, pulling at the seams of your heart.

You shake your head no as droplets of water trickle down your back. “No, guess I haven’t,” you say with an even breath.

“It’s just a term of endearment where I’m from. A nickname, you can say,” he answers, his hand moving just enough for him to brush the outer edge of your pinky finger. You suck in a breath and try not to get too flustered at the action.

“Oh, I see,” you say quietly. “Darlin’, I like that…”

You ponder over the name and ask something else in return. “Do you have any other nicknames you use?” you ask, biting your lip at the question as you wait patiently.

He twitches his jaw and looks you over carefully before he responds. “I mean, there’s a lot I could use, I suppose. Darlin’ just comes naturally to me, but you…” His soft brown eyes flick over yours slowly before he speaks again. “Sirena, yeah. I like that,” he smiles to himself as your lips curl up slowly.

“Sirena, hmmmm,” you hum to yourself. “I like that, but what does it mean?”

“It comes from a Greek word. It means siren or enchantress, which you are. You are quite enchanting,” he says with a gleam in his eyes, his words in a trancelike state as he stares into your eyes.

You gulp at the meaning, eyes fixed on his intently. He called you enchanting, he thinks you’re enchanting. It shouldn’t make you feel so much closer to him, it’s only a nickname, a silly name. But it does. It does.

When you don’t speak, he asks another question. “What’s it like out there? Under the water? To be able to breathe and see things I couldn’t quite imagine myself?” His brown eyes sink into yours, shifting his weight slightly as the wooden boat creaks underneath him.

“It’s the most amazing thing you could imagine,” you say enchanted, your tail grazing above the water as you spin up a small current underneath you. “Unearthly, exquisite. There’s truly nothing like being able to connect with nature, to be able to see the wonders of fathoms below that no human has seen before. It’s freeing, beautiful, amazing, but…”

Your voice cuts off at the last part, thinking about all the things you wish you knew about the real world outside the waters of your home. Something you always wanted to know ever since you could remember. A taste for knowledge of the outside world, the human world.

“But what?” he asks quietly, almost putting his hand on top of yours before you shy away and move your fingers out of his reach.

“I just… I just wonder what the human world is like sometimes. I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t. But I just have that deep fascination with things I don’t quite understand. I crave to know the history of the land, want to know what it’s like to touch actual sand out of the water. Want to know how a…. oh, what’s the word?” you wrack your brain for what seems like minutes until you think of the word you once saw on a picture in a book. “How a fire burns,” you say proudly after remembering the strange words.

“Maybe I can teach you a thing or two about the human world. If you teach me about the underwater world.”

You mull over the words, think of what you could be risking. You could expose too much, you could open up a can of worms that you couldn’t close. You could risk everything. But for him maybe it was worth the risk. You could trust him, right?

As if he can read your mind, he places a hand gently on top of yours and you gasp at the contact. His touch is so careful, so soft atop yours. You think you like it, a lot. “You can trust me, darlin’. I swear on my life, I won’t hurt you. Do you trust me?”

Do you trust me? The words ring through your head as you question the words yourself. Trust was a big deal, trust meant you were putting your own life on the line. But as you look into his soft brown eyes and see the genuine smile curled on his plush lips, you can’t help but lose yourself as you automatically nod and respond, “I trust you.”

His face is so close to yours, so close that if he leaned down just a little he could brush his lips against yours. It’s as if he can hear the wild beating of your heart as it beats like a pod of dolphins traveling as fast as lightning through the water. Your eyes gaze into his, begging him to sink his lips down to yours.

He reaches his hand out and traces the edge of your jawline slowly, intimately. You gasp at the feel of him, as his calloused fingers trail gently over your skin. It feels warm, safe, so very right like his hand was made to touch you, to know you. He sees you. He sees you.

Just when he’s about to lean down and give you what you desire, the boat suddenly flips over and Joel goes crashing into the water.

“Joel!” you scream as you dive down to retrieve him, but he’s not there where he should be. Where is he? You call his name again, search below the dark depths below, twist your way through the seaweed and look frantically around until you see what exactly happened.

Your eyes go wide, a scream escaping your mouth as you find two of your sisters holding him down below the water trying to drown him. He fights their grip, trying to hold his breath as he looks terrified of what’s happening. Your sisters just smile vindictively to each other as their aquamarine and deep purple tails flick against the water and draw their sharp nails into his arms.

“Stop!” you beg as you swim desperately up to them and try to grab his arms out of their reach. They back up just enough so you can’t quite grab him.

Cleo stands her grown and flashes her white incisors your way as her blue tail fans out behind her. “He’s a human! A man, for crying out loud! All men should die for what they did to us,” she spits out, a snarl deep on her flawless face as your other sister Marissa agrees with her.

“He’s different. Joel is different!” you plead, reaching your hand out again.

“Joel. You know him by name? Can you believe that, Cleo? He has a name. How thoughtful of our sister to learn such information of this beast,” she laughs sadistically as she yanks him under again.

You watch his eyes start to close, watch his breath gasp for air as he slowly fades from the light. You grow desperate, hasty as you swim with all your might to grab his arms out of your sisters’ grip.

“Please, he’s kind! Don’t do this. Don’t take this one!” you beg as tears start to pour from your eyes, landing against your cheeks as they float off into the unsteady waters.

Your sisters drop their hands, eyes wide at how desperate you’re acting over a human. But he’s not just a human, he’s different. This one is different.

They both watch you take his body against yours as you wrap your arms behind the backs of his arms and start to hoist him to the surface. They stop you before you breach atop the water, grabbing your slippery fin as they stop you from swimming any further.

“You better be careful, sister. You don’t know what danger you’re putting us in. Interacting with a man? You’re foolish, selfish. How do you think father will handle this?” Cleo asks with narrowed eyes that could kill a man with how sharp she’s staring.

“Don’t you dare tell him, Cleo. Just… let me go. Please,” you beg as you try to squirm out of her hold. “He’s going to die if you don’t!” you scream, eyes wide as his head slumps against your shoulder weightless, almost like he’s already dead. Panic consumes you at the mere thought of it.

“Go on, then,” she says with a snarky look. “I won’t tell him… yet. But be warned. If he does anything to sway my judgement and I mean anything, I’ll have no choice but to tell him,” she warns as Marissa spits in your direction.

Cleo finally releases your fin as you swim frantically up, up, up until you break the seal and breathe fresh air again. Joel doesn’t stir, doesn’t even seem to be breathing as his head still rests lazily against the crook of your neck.

You look around desperately for anything you can lay him on, needing to stir him awake somehow. You need to get him someplace dry.

“Joel, just hold on. You’ll be alright. Please, just hang on,” you cry out as you circle around frantically looking for anything you can use.

That’s when you see it, a large flat rock that lays above the water in the middle of the sea cave you always find yourself in. You push yourself forward in the water, making sure to keep his head above the stirring waves. You turn on your back and hold his body above yours as you propel your strong tail in the water, trying with all your might to get there faster.

He’s going to die and it’s all your fault. Why were you being so reckless? The words taunt your mind like your sisters’ glaring warnings. You can’t think about them now, the only thing you care about is getting Joel to wake up. He needs to breathe, he needs to wake up.

You drag his body up on the smooth rock and lay him flat on his back. He has no sign of breathing anywhere, his chest is still as dawn like the sun slowly rising in the horizon.

You try to shake his shoulders, try to rub at his sternum forcefully as if that’ll wake him up. Nothing happens. You try again, calling his name and shaking him, screaming for him to wake up. But again there’s no movement, no breath coming from his mouth.

You crash down on top of him and wrap your arms around his neck, letting a tear drop from your melancholy eyes as it falls against his still chest. You whimper out a pathetic sound that sounds like you’re choking on your own words. “Come back to me, Joel. Come back,” you plead, face still pressed against his hollow chest as you let another tear fall in his presence.

You feel cold, hard pressed, wounded as if someone just took a sharp stake to your chest. You shouldn’t feel like this, shouldn’t let yourself feel so much for a human who you barely know. But he was going to show you his world, was going to teach you everything you wanted to know, and you were going to show him your world. But that’s no more. He’s gone. He’s gone.

You let the falling tears dry up on his cotton white shirt where the buttons lay half opened to expose tanned skin, can feel just how broad and strong he is underneath your weight. And you wish he’d wake up, wish he’d open his soft brown eyes so you could sink into them, sing him a melody while he grazed his fingers gently against your face. You want it so bad, want him so bad. But it could never be now. Not anymore.

You let your hand fall to his chest and wrap your fingers around his damp white shirt. You start to hum out your favorite lullaby, a way to soothe you over against the hurt you feel in your chest now as it aches and twists like a knife in your gut. Singing has always been a way to make you feel braver, a way to drown out the sorrows of dark days. Your mother always said you had the most beautiful voice she’d ever heard, but she was also gone now. Gone on that awful, dark day where blood filled the waters of your home. Gone.

You push the thoughts away, continue singing your song as if this will make the situation better. You close your eyes and drown out the lapping waves with your voice, making sure it echoes off every corner in the open cave.

Just as you’re about to push yourself off him, you feel movement underneath you. Just a faint lurch beneath you until he’s turning on his side and coughing up water out of his lungs rapidly, spilling it all over the glossy rock as he tries to catch his breath from all the choking and coughing his body expels.

“Joel?!” you ask alarmed, your hand shooting up to his face as you caress the soft, patchy scruff against his jawline carefully.

He lays on his back again and slowly opens his eyes, placing his hand over yours as he calls your name softly, his words still laced with salt water that still burns the back of his throat, but he answers anyway. And your name out of his mouth sounds like the sweetest thing you’ve ever heard.

“You’re alive?” you ask quietly, eyes wide as you stare down at him with your mouth parted open slightly.

“Thanks to you, I am,” he says with a nod up at you, his hand still lingering on top of yours as his calloused fingers send sparks down your arm. It’s electric, shocking as it blinds you with need.

You gulp but don’t say anything else, too afraid to ruin the moment. “Your voice,” he says nodding to you again, “I’ve never heard a voice quite as beautiful as yours. I thought I was in heaven for a second there, thought you were an angel.”

Beautiful? An angel? Oh.

“An angel? Not quite,” you giggle, dropping your hand from his face to rest on his broad chest.

He lifts his arm up slowly and hooks a piece of damp hair behind your ear, trailing his calloused fingers along your cheek as he stares at you with wide brown eyes. Eyes that make your insides turn to putty.

“You are an angel,” he nods, his lips curling up into a soft smile that could knock you back into the water.

He thinks you’re an angel…

“Oh,” is all you can say.

He looks at you like no one else has, looks at you like you’re the only girl in the world. He sees you for what you are, a siren, and yet he doesn’t run. He doesn’t run. He stays.

His lips look so soft, so plush that you think you’d like to feel them pressed up against yours. His eyes flick back and forth between your wanting eyes and your parted mouth, and you think he wants the same thing.

You start to drift toward him, closer and closer until you’re almost there, almost touching his lips. He reaches to cup the back of your head, steering you down, down until you’re barely a breath away from him.

Suddenly there’s a large splash in the water, and you jump apart from him as he sits up on his elbows and gazes out into the dark blue rippling water. He sees a large fin and goes ghost white as he takes in the long body of the great white shark that lurks around the area. His eyes go wide as he sinks against the cave wall behind him as if to hide from the creature of the deep.

“It’s alright,” you say calmly as you reach your arm under the shadow of the water and call the shark over to you. Joel’s chest rises and falls unsteadily as his eyes remain locked on the terrifying features of Scar.

“Your hand, get your hand out of the water,” Joel urges as he tries to pull you back, but you wave him off.

“Joel, it’s alright. He’s my friend.”

Scar circles back around and brushes his body up against your hand as you pet his back and let him disappear back under the water.

“You’re friends with a shark?” he asks surprised, eyes still peeled on the shadow that looms around the area.

“Mhm. I saved his life many years ago, and he’s never left my side since then. Kinda ironic how people misinterpret them. Sharks may look scary to the human eye, but they’re really peaceful creatures. If you just took a few minutes to really see them, you’d see they’re just trying to live peacefully in their home. They just want to survive like any of us do.”

Joel looks at you as if really hearing you for the first time. The way you talk about the ocean, about the creatures of the deep makes him feel things he’s never even thought of before. He thinks you’re beautiful, breathtaking, and so kind. So very kind…

“You’re really something out of a fairytale, aren’t you?” he asks with wonder in his voice, his brown eyes sinking into yours as he focuses on the warm smile you give him as you blush crimson.

“I guess you could say that, sailor?” you giggle out. “That’s what you are, right?”

“Yes,” he nods as he looks over at his boat that sits idle over the calm tides.

“Is that your boat?” you ask as your eyes wander over to the large vessel that sits in the water under sparkling stars. You flick your eyes over the sides, noticing the large blue flags that fly gently in the cool breeze and notice the words Deep Blue Oasis written in cursive letters that hang down the side.

“Yep, that’s my beauty. Been sailin’ on her for a few years now. Probably one of my favorite things ever. To be able to sail across the waters and explore areas I’ve never been to before. It’s all very… exciting.”

You watch the way his eyes light up the way he talks about the sea, watch the way his smile curls over his lips as he talks about his love for sailing. You think it’s hypnotizing, beautiful. You think he is beautiful.

“What are you doing around this part? Looking for something?” you ask as your eyebrows rise up, intrigued why he was staying around these parts.

“There was a ship that went down many years ago here. There’s all sorts of tales and rumors that some great treasure was lost here with the ship. And I want to find it,” he states excitedly.

A shipwreck many years ago? You think you know which one he’s talking about, like maybe it was that same night that all the bloodshed went down. The night you lost your mother to those bloodsucking humans…

He notices your eyes shift from lit up to cold irises, feels the dread that seems to take over your body for the moment. But then he’s cupping your chin and lifting your eyes up to his warm brown eyes, and you feel like you’ve made it safely back home.

“You alright, darlin’? You went away for a minute there,” he asks as his concerned eyes gaze into yours. You nod your head and let him continue to keep his hand on your skin. You’ll let him keep it there for as long as he wants.

You smile up at him and nod in response. “I’m okay, was just thinking about something,” you say with a daze to your tone, somber eyes coming back down to earth.

“Was there something specific you were looking for?” you ask as his fingers continue to trace down your skin. It feels like complete magic that holds you under a spell.

“Not really. You see, I kinda have a fascination with history. You should see my study. I have hundreds of books and ancient artifacts that I’ve found in the sea. You’d love it,” he says with a crooked smile splayed against his face. It makes a dimple form deep in his cheek, and it nearly takes your breath away.

His study sounds a lot like the secret cave you have deep underwater that’s full of human treasures that you’d collected over the years from lost ships and things thrown overboard from wasteful humans. It’s a little sanctuary for you, a place you can go to clear your mind and wonder just what it’d be like to walk on land. What it’d be like to have your own pair of legs. But you love the sea so much, you don’t think you’d ever want to leave. But for him, you might just follow him anywhere.

You sigh as you lean into his touch, wishing you could see just what he’s talking about. “I wish I could see it,” you say quietly, eyes trailing back to his doe eyes as he speaks again.

“Maybe someday you will.” And it sounds like a promise, like he will show you one day. But how? You have a tail, you can’t walk. Your home is in the ocean, not on land. But if you could find a way to do both then you would. There had to be a way.

“Maybe,” you say dreamlike as you dream of warm sand on your feet, walking hand in hand with him on the beach. A distant wish you so wanted to be true. But it wasn’t, and you had to deal with that.

You stay there another moment letting his calloused fingers run along your jawline as you watch his eyes settle in on your face. Before you get lost for too long, you pull out of his reach and sink back into the cool water.

“I guess I should get you back to your boat,” you say sadly, eyes averting from his as to not dwell on the beautiful flecks of mixed browns that you want to get lost in again and again until you can’t see anything but them anymore.

“Yeah, guess so,” he says quietly, a voice that screams for you to stay, but you can’t. He doesn’t belong here.

“Wait here,” you say before you take off to retrieve his small wooden boat that’ll take him safely back to dry ground.

As you wade through the water you get a sick sense that this can only end badly, but it was too late. You were already in too deep, and you already wanted to see him again. This was bad, so bad.

You turn over the toppled boat and throw the rows back inside, pulling it along as you drag it back to him safely. You place it against the rock he sits on and watch him climb in, situating himself as he takes the rows in his hands. Before he heads back to his large boat, he stops and stares at you.

“Can I see you again?” he asks quietly as the cool breeze blows a tousled curl against his forehead. Without thinking you reach up and push it back into place, feeling just how soft his hair really feels. He lets you, and it feels as soft as velvety moss.

You drop your hand back down and before you can, he grabs your wrist and stares deeply into your eyes, eliciting a gasp out of your mouth as his fingers dig into your soft flesh. You let him keep you there until you give him a clear answer.

You think of your options, think of what you might be risking if you see him again. Would your sisters try to drown him again, would he try to steal you away from the sea, would your father find out that you were meddling in human affairs? All of the questions were valid and unknown, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say no. You wanted to see him again, needed to.

“Yes. Tomorrow night,” you say without any hesitation.

He nods his head and smiles down at you as he gently lets his fingers fall from your skin as your hand splashes back down underneath the water.

“Tomorrow it is then. See you later, Sirena.” The nickname falls off his tongue like a sweet melody that fills your ears. Sirena, enchantress, siren.

You watch him row back to his boat, watching the way his biceps bulge every time he pulls back on the rows. He looks a little like your own Prince Charming. A sailor that had captured your heart, and you weren’t willing to take it back. It was his now, as long as he wanted it.

He looks back at you before climbing up the steep ladder. He smiles gently your way and nods before turning back to the ladder and climbing up, disappearing from your view as he makes his way below the deck.

You sigh and rest your elbow against the glossy rock he was just sitting on minutes ago, daydreaming about those dreamy brown eyes and his smile that knocks the breath out of your chest.

Scar circles back around and comes up beside you, nudging you with his large snout as you gently pet the top of his head. “I know, Scar. I know. I’m in so much trouble.”

You sink back underneath the water and follow him back home, back to the kingdom of Capri where you belong. But you keep your mind locked on those sweet, syrupy eyes that you so desperately want to see again.

Joel was going to be your undoing.

Tags: (Let me know if you don’t want to be tagged) @janaispunk @amyispxnk @princesatracionera @vividispunk @keylimebeag @pedroswife69 @littlevenicebitch69 @poeticbarnes @tuquoquebrute @awkwardprovocateur @ayamenimthiriel @everythingiwanttoread @burntheedges @hc-geralt-23 @joelmillersblog @joelalorian @vivian-pascal @untamedheart81 @laurrrra @dugiioh @blueseastorm @pedrostories @morallyinept @vvitchesh3x @frannyzooey

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belladonnadawn · 8 hours ago

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A Dinner for Two

To show his love and devotion, Xanthus decides to prepare a romantic dinner for you. Xanthus Claiborne x Reader Content Warning: mentions of cannibalism. (I miss him so much, I need my husband back fr. First fic of the year, yay!)

The first thing that Lawrence saw once he regained consciousness was a bloodied blade placed on the table. He winced at the tender flesh on his chest, healed, but not quite yet. His doctor only stared at him, indifferent to what was unfolding.

Before he realized it, he awoke to a new life.

The world became his oyster. He watched the tides shift and the pendulum swing. He found the fascination of it, especially with his newfound abilities and hunger. He lost count of lovers and foes, enemies and friends.

Everything was in the palm of his hand, but immortality made everything seem monotonous.

He, instead, became an observer, sometimes as a participant. Either way, he accepted the role that life gave him. There was no use resisting what fate handed to him.

He had lost count of the lives and the names that he had. Until he became…

"Xanthus."

Ah, the way you spoke his name; like a hummingbird singing softly at the day, like the aria of the most talented soprano at the opera. His name fits your lips. He was alive again.

To you, his name became a synonym for warmth and safety. A haven from the chaotic life you once knew. To him, your name became synonymous with peace and sanity— his long-awaited purpose.

Both of you found solace in each other's embrace. For once, he indulged himself at the thought of the future of you and him: with you growing old or choosing immortality with him. Either way, he's glad he has you.

It was then that you knew that cherished moments were often fleeting, just a mere brush in the hand before they slipped away.

Since it was not too long until the wind shifted its course, the storm that was brewing had now decided to strike down. Xanthus knew its arrival, anticipated it even, but no amount of preparation would save both of you and he knew that.

War is cruel— striking and unforgiving. An epitome of destruction and grief. But his lack of options and the dire situation presented it as a means to an end that he's been reaching for. So it commenced.

Adrenaline filled your veins as you ran around the labyrinth looking for your allies. You were fortunate to escape from Audric and now, it's time to find Xanthus. Being under the lake, everything felt damp and suffocating as if the labyrinth would break and swallow everything whole.

That was the least of your worries.

Taking a turn, you finally found him. All the worries and fears that you both felt disappeared with the touch of each other's skin. But war only has victors and losers.

Xanthus watched as it ripped your heart out, taking you right in front of him.

Out of sheer luck, Xanthus was able to save you from its cruel hands before it caused more damage. He came home cradling you like a fragile flower as if you'd crumble into different fragments.

Dontis only looked at him with a solemn expression. There was nothing he could say to give him comfort. He only gave him an empathetic look and reminded him of his open doors.

Xanthus would only nod. He'd board home with you after.

The room was dim, candlelight was the only source of light in the room; perfect for setting the mood. Red and two-toned chrysanthemums were perfectly arranged, decorating the table with such beauty. Silverware adorned with floral carvings that perfectly matched the ambiance of the dinner table.

Everything was meticulously arranged and designed to his liking. It was time to eat.

His hand reached the silver cloche, revealing a sweet supple meat, cooked to perfection. Xanthus closed his eyes as he inhaled its scent, the decadence of the food filled him. He was beyond exhilarated.

The flavor of meat along with the richness of wine stained his tongue. All the worries and burdens were gone as he indulged himself. Xanthus was lost in paradise. He was lost in you.

Gone were the days of the war. Gone were the grief. Gone were the tears.

It doesn't matter anymore: the blood lost, the lives taken, the injuries sustained. At the end of the day, you have his heart and he has yours. That was enough for him.

As long as he lives, you live. As long as he breathes, you breathe. The stars finally aligned for both you and him. Now that he has you in his heart, in his mind, and on his plate.

Divider: firefly-graphics

#zsakuva #sakuverse #xanthus claiborne #Spotify

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keitorin3 · 3 months ago

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Picture this~

The Marvel Multiverse thing about your dreams but with Merlin.

So I rewatched the "Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness" and had this thought about what if Merlin had constant dreams of his alternate future-self before he came to Camelot.

And I don't mean his future-self in S5 but himself in the 21st century.

Like, this would confuse young Merlin who lives in medieval times and has these fantastical dreams where there are moving metal contraptions and steel birds and towering crystal-like buildings.

But most of all, I think that he'd dream of himself as an old professor or doctor. Like, we know Merlin knows how to read and write in S1 and that it was most definitely thanks to his mother, but what if he was more advanced then that?

What if seeing these dreams of another version of himself as a professor or doctor made Merlin truly want to be a physician with Gaius?

But what's more, he brings with him his 21st century mindset into his life like...

*Merlin hearing Kilgharrah*

Kilgharrah: Merlin~

Merlin: Yeah God? I'm kinda in the middle of a midlife crisis you know. Got tossed into prison by a gorgeous blond bimbo who will most likely be my crap boss in the future, so can't be insane right now sorry.

Kilgharrah: ...

Gaius comes in looking cross: Merlin you idiot!

Merlin: Nevermind, god take me now please.

*Merlin meeting Kilgharrah*

Kilgharrah: How small you are for such a great destiny.

Merlin: Holy shit, is this like Braveheart? Wait, no, sorry wrong movie I mean Dragonheart?

Kilgharrah: What?

Merlin: Are you gonna tell me we have to ban together to stop the King from doing something terrible because some dumbass stupidly gave him a gift or something to do with Life or Death and now the king is out of control and must be stopped?

Kilgharrah: ... *after a moment of self doubt and contemplation* Yes... After freeing me, yes. It is your destiny.

Merlin: Hmm, your kinda sus. How do I know you aren't lying to me? And if I have to kill some king can it be someone like Cenred? Total dick king, honestly.

Kilgharrah: *Ignores that for now and will debate destiny later* Your gift, Merlin, was given to you for a reason.

Merlin: So there is a reason for my dreams.

Kilgharrah: Yes-What? No, I meant your magic.

Merlin: But that's forbidden in Camelot, and besides, I need my head for when I become a physician!

Kilgharrah: You were made for a greater purpose Merlin. Arthur is the Once and Future King who will unite the land of Albion. But he faces many threats from friend and foe alike. Without you, Arthur will never succeed. Without you, there will be no Albion.

Merlin: Riiight... And then he and I marry, have brilliant blond children and live happily ever after, while working as a Physician.

Kilgharrah: ... No

Merlin: Then nah, blondy can fight his own battles. Been training to kill since birth I hear.

Kilgharrah: There is no right or wrong, only what is and what isn't.

Merlin: *mutters* What are you, a fortune cookie?

Kilgharrah: None of us can choose our destiny, Merlin, and none of us can escape it.

Merlin: OK, fine. I'll bite into the forbidden apple, but I'm most likely not bringing an Adam down with me. Arthur is a idiot but I don't see him changing within this century.

Kilgharrah: Perhaps it's your destiny to change that. *Then proceeds to fly off*

Merlin: Wait-! Ugh, thanks for nothing you useless reptile.

Lol, I can just image all the possibilities where Merlin makes a reference to something and everyone around him are just completely confused and just writes him off as a fool with a wide but intelligent imagination.

This was also greatly inspired by @theroundbartable post (here) of 21st century Arthur as King.

So much fun, like I think because of Merlin able to kinda see into his alternate self's life he has the modern perspective but still have the medieval stomach to survive. And, he goes about figuring out his magic using the scientific method of Question , Research, Hypothesis, Experiment, Data Analysis, Conclusion, and Communication. Like why does he not need to speak words? Is magic spells like coding? Or is it a force? Is he a Jedi or a Sith?

Considering flowers bloom when he's happy but rain and storms pour when sad or angry, he is likely neither a force of good or evil.

Merlin has all these internal thoughts and with Gaius, finally has someone to bounce theories off of (that's not Will of Hunith) and share knowledge with.

At some point Gaius would just suggest Merlin write them down (because Gaius is too old and can't keep up as fast). Taking his advise and spends his next pay check on a brand new journal.

And I can see Merlin and Arthur being the same old same old, but Merlin is more concerned for Arthur and Morgana's well being seeing as their only role model is emotionally abusing (and confusing) Uther.

So he'd team up with Gwen and set about trying to make both Pendragon Siblings happy.

And I better end here or else I'll go on and on.

Til next we meet fellow dreamers~! ✨

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choerypetal · 4 months ago

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The Perfect Love / Halsin

summary: while battling against the Durge and embracing your new you. you struggled to pinpoint the source of your envy towards the elf druid you had been ordered to save and return to the grove. it wasn't until one night, with perhaps a bit of help from a mischievous vamping, that the true nature of your feelings began to surface.

ps ; english isn't my first language but i hope you appreciate this story!

words ; 2654

Halsin was a man unto himself, his charm both undeniable and somehow elusive. Admirers far outnumbered foes, drawn to the balance he maintained with nature and the quiet prosperity he exuded. He wasn’t just the revered druid everyone spoke about in hushed admiration—he was also a striking Elf, impossible to overlook. Those fortunate enough to attend his lectures on harmony found themselves captivated, much like you, lingering at the back of the group, ever more intrigued by his words and presence. Brooding in silence.

“You know,” Astarion’s voice slithered into your ear, his gaze flicking between you and the unfortunate soul who had become your prey that night. Although calling them a "threat" felt like an understatement—it was more of a fleeting obstacle, your mind entirely consumed by Halsin’s perfect smile. The temptation to tear Astarion to pieces in that very moment simmered just beneath the surface. “If you keep staring like that, he’ll eventually notice,” Astarion teased, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Perhaps even get nervous.”

"Nervous?" You nearly choked on your drink as the rough, cheap alcohol scraped down your throat—courtesy of the most bare-bones camp supplies Faerûn had to offer. “Don’t be ridiculous,” you shot back, trying to sound confident. Astarion, however, was anything but convinced, the arch of his brow giving you away before you even finished. “I mean, just look at him. I bet half the people listening to him right now are only here for his looks. His perfect eyes, his perfect hair, his perfect mus—” Your words faltered as you realized the dangerous path you were treading. Complimenting Halsin's physical perfection was not where you wanted this conversation to go. Too late. You caught the wicked smirk curling Astarion’s lips, the one he reserved for moments like these—when someone proved themselves wrong. “Mus? I didn’t quite catch that, darling,” he teased, eyes glittering with mischief.

The emphasis on the word had only deepened your worry, and now your gaze locked with the vampire spawn’s. Astarion leaned in closer, his silhouette casting a shadow over you as if daring you to continue. His smug satisfaction was unmistakable, reveling in the fact that he had you cornered. You tried your best not to fall into his trap, but the pull of his teasing was undeniable.

“Astarion, I won’t say it,” you insisted, voice strained, struggling to hold onto your pride. “It’s not in my nature to—” But even as the words left your mouth, the smirk on his lips grew wider, knowing full well he’d already won.

“Nature of what?” That voice—rich and unmistakable—cut through the tension, catching both you and Astarion off guard. While Astarion had been thoroughly enjoying his own mischief, his amusement quickly faded as the shadowy figure stepped closer, drawing both of your attentions. Even Astarion, usually so composed, faltered. A delicate flush bloomed across his pale cheeks as he hurriedly returned his lips to the rim of his wine glass, avoiding further scrutiny. The silence stretched long enough for you to wrestle with the question, wondering why Astarion, of all people, had fallen so quiet. Then came the follow-up, dripping with amusement: “Or has the cat caught your tongue now?”

A small cough escaped Astarion, his amusement evident as a few splashes of wine dripped onto his pale skin. He quickly stifled a laugh, wiping the droplets with one finger, his gaze dancing between you and Halsin. The druid's expression was endearing—innocent, really—blissfully unaware of the conversation he’d nearly walked in on. Astarion, ever the opportunist, made a mental note to bet some gold next time, just for the chance to see your face at a moment like this again.

Your eyes followed Astarion’s motion, and when they landed on Halsin, your heart nearly skipped a beat. Halsin, with his effortlessly handsome features, was now looking directly at you. The sudden shift in your demeanor—cheeks flushed, eyes wide, and brows raised as if you'd seen a ghost—hadn’t escaped him. "My dear Y/N," he remarked, a soft concern in his voice, "you look a bit flushed. Are you alright? Do you need me to fetch something to cool you down?"

But the worries faded into the background as Astarion's laughter echoed through the air, his amusement wrapping around every word. "Oh no," he began, clearly relishing the moment. Because when the attention wasn’t on him, Astarion always found a way to redirect it. "Actually, it’s—"Before he could finish, your hand shot up, covering his lips. You couldn’t let him say it, not here, not in front of Halsin and the others, all of whom were now watching intently. The last thing you needed was for your rambling to be exposed.

"I—I must go. I'm so sorry," you stammered, your voice trembling with nervousness. Halsin’s brow furrowed in concern, his keen eyes noticing the slight shake of your fingers as they fell away from Astarion’s mouth. The druid could sense your anxiety, but what puzzled him more was the question that lingered in his mind: why did you always seem so flustered around him?

As Halsin watched you retreat to your tent, his brows knitted in confusion. Astarion, still amused, casually wiped away the remnants of your hand from his lips, further drawing Halsin's attention. The druid, perplexed, turned to him with a quiet question. "Care to explain why she acts like this around me? Every time I try to approach her, she either freezes or... leaves."

Astarion, for once, refrained from teasing, but the air of mischief lingered around him. Meanwhile, the camp, already buzzing from the commotion you’d stirred, was now curious, eyes darting between Halsin and your tent. Amidst the rising murmur, it was Shadowheart who finally spoke on your behalf.

“I can’t say for certain,” she began, her voice calm, “but she’s been like that ever since you joined us. Whatever it is, I don’t think it’s something she’s quite ready to share.” Her gaze softened as she looked in your direction, a quiet understanding in her tone. "Give her time." The camp fell quiet again, though Halsin couldn't shake the feeling there was more to your behavior than what met the eye.

Gale nodded thoughtfully, stroking his chin before offering his own insight. "I’ve noticed something too," he said, his tone measured. "It seems to happen most often when you're teaching, Halsin. As someone who’s done a fair bit of teaching myself, I understand the challenge. When two lives—especially so different—cross paths, tensions can arise. And, let’s face it, good looks don't make things any easier." He offered a wry smile. "It’s no surprise you have admirers, Halsin. But I have a suspicion that our dearest Y/N might be dealing with a bit of… jealousy."

Halsin’s brows raised slightly in surprise, though he remained silent, the new piece of information settling in. Gale’s words made sense, but they only deepened the mystery for the druid, whose mind now lingered on the complexity of your reactions around him.

Astarion raised his glass with a triumphant grin, clearly reveling in Gale’s conclusion. “Gale, you’re absolutely right! She can be hard to read at times, but jealousy? That’s crystal clear. It’s obvious she’s got a thing for our charming druid.” He turned, his smirk widening as he gestured toward Halsin. “After all, we elves are just naturally irresistible, aren’t we, Shadowheart?”

Shadowheart, caught off guard, gave Astarion a sidelong glance, clearly unamused by his antics. “I wouldn’t count on all elves being charming,” she replied dryly, though her gaze softened briefly toward Halsin. “But I’ll admit, Halsin does have… a presence.” Halsin, for his part, shook his head with a quiet chuckle, though Gale’s observation and Astarion’s playful commentary left him more curious than ever. Could it really be jealousy? The idea seemed both flattering and perplexing.

As the party continued to banter about your supposed jealousy, Halsin’s gaze drifted elsewhere, lost in thought. He found himself reflecting on his time teaching the others about nature. It struck him as odd that, despite his dedication as a teacher, it wasn’t the admiration or the attention he received that seemed to unsettle you. What truly seemed to bother you was the constant presence of admirers crowding around him, often preventing you from even getting a simple greeting.

While some might view the notion as a bit far-fetched, Halsin understood the frustration. It wasn’t just about the superficial interactions; it was the lack of meaningful connection. You were always on the periphery, never having the chance to truly get to know him. Despite his knowledge of you, the details of your life remained largely unknown to him. This disparity in understanding seemed to create a barrier, one that he now felt compelled to address.

“I’d suggest you go talk to her,” Astarion’s voice interrupted Halsin’s thoughts, his gaze fixed on your tent. The druid's brows furrowed as he considered the suggestion. "She’s probably sleeping by now—" Astarion shook his head, dismissing the notion. “You know her better than that. She’s either restless or busy with something else.”

Determined to resolve the uncertainty, Halsin approached your tent, only to be met with faint, sorrowful sounds coming from within. The cries were soft but unmistakable. They cut through the night air, revealing a vulnerability that neither he nor Astarion had anticipated. The realization that you were struggling alone hit him hard, stirring a sense of urgency and empathy in the druid.

“Y/N…?” Halsin’s voice was soft but clear, cutting through the darkness of the tent. Though you were numb and struggling with your inner turmoil, the sound of his voice was unmistakable. A surge of jealousy and frustration surged within you, a painful reminder of your emotions.

You fought the impulse to lash out, the temptation to hurt him as a way to release your pent-up feelings. Tears, which had momentarily dried, began to well up again. Desperate to maintain some semblance of control, you turned away, trying to cover your face and silence your sobs, hoping he would take the hint and leave you in peace.

But Halsin did not leave. He remained steadfast, his concern growing stronger. When he managed to peek through the tent, he saw you as he had anticipated—your face flushed, your body curled up as if to shield yourself from the world. The faint cries he'd heard earlier were now more apparent, a stark contrast to the usually composed and serene image you presented.

“Are you afraid of me?” he wondered aloud, though he quickly dismissed the thought. It couldn't be fear, he reasoned. If anything, it was something deeper. He began to pull away, respecting your apparent wish for solitude, but you reached out, your hand gently gripping his arm. Your touch was hesitant but firm, a silent plea that spoke louder than words. "Please, I beg you," you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of desperation and vulnerability.

Halsin stopped, his heart aching at the sight of your struggle. It was clear now that your need for help outweighed your desire for isolation. He knelt beside you, his voice soft but determined. “I’m here,” he said gently. “Tell me what’s wrong. Let me help you.”

Halsin’s soft features met yours as your gaze finally connected. His lips curved into a reassuring smile, a silent promise of support and understanding. Without needing to say more, he accepted your plea, recognizing that it went beyond mere words or shared battles.

He understood that these moments of vulnerability were crucial, that his presence was more important than any simple greeting or fight alongside you. If nights like these required extra effort, he was more than willing to give it. The reassurance in his eyes spoke volumes, a quiet commitment to stand by you and help you through the darkness, no matter how long it took.

When Halsin settled down beside you, preparing to wrap his arms around your waist, you instinctively rushed to him. It was as if the shelter you’d been seeking was right there in front of you. Halsin chuckled softly, his voice carrying a hint of playful reproach. “You know,” he began with a scoff of laughter, “I always wondered why you seemed so distant during my lectures. Aren’t my classes engaging enough?” His tone was light, almost mockingly offended.

Despite the fact that your discomfort had nothing to do with his teaching or demonstrations, you felt a flush creep onto your cheeks. It was hard to ignore the feelings bubbling up inside you. “Would I be damned if I admitted that it’s because I find you utterly breathtaking?” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper, the warmth of your blush reflecting your sincerity.

Halsin’s laughter joined yours, his amusement genuine as he found your comment both adorable and endearing. Yet, beneath the surface, he sensed that your feelings ran deeper than mere admiration. The revelation that you were the Durge—an identity everyone spoke of—had shifted his understanding of you.

As you spoke, your voice carried a tremor of vulnerability. “But it’s also my fear of being alone,” you began, your eyes fixed on him. “Being the Durge has its advantages, but it also feels like a curse. Ever since my father, Bhaal, and my siblings came into my life, I’ve struggled with the fear that no one would ever truly love me. Not even someone as wise as you.” Halsin listened intently, his gaze unwavering as he absorbed your confession. The weight of your words was not lost on him, and he felt a profound sense of empathy for the fear and loneliness you carried. His focus remained solely on you, his presence a quiet reassurance in the face of your deepest insecurities.

As you shared your fears and vulnerabilities, Halsin listened deeply, feeling a connection to your struggles. He reflected on your accomplishments, like saving the grove and rescuing Zevlor and others from the goblin camp. These were feats he often spoke of with admiration, and they were the very stories that captivated his students.

“You know,” Halsin began, a hint of pride in his voice, “I might be an accomplished teacher, but it’s actually you who excites the students the most. They’re always eager to hear about your deeds. In fact, many of them have expressed a wish to meet you. But I’ve been hesitant, understanding that you don’t seek the spotlight.”

He looked at you with a reassuring smile, his words conveying both admiration and a deep respect for your desire for privacy. “You’ve made a greater impact than you realize, and while you might not seek attention, your actions speak volumes to those who know about them.”

You listened intently, your fingers gently cupping Halsin's face as you lifted your head from his chest to meet his gaze. “So that’s what Alfira was talking about last week?” you asked, a hint of shame coloring your words. “I always thought the hero was someone else in this party, considering my story.”

Halsin's lips curved into the same reassuring smile you had admired since you first met him, the same smile you had once envied but now found deeply comforting. “How about…” he began thoughtfully, “next week, I have a lecture to attend. Perhaps you could join me? It could be a first step for us to get to know each other better.” His suggestion was warm and genuine, offering a bridge between your shared experiences and the budding connection between you.

The phrase "a first step to our relationship" echoed in your mind as you continued to gaze at him. A small smile curved your lips, and with sincerity, you replied, “I would love to, Halsin.”

Halsin’s heart warmed at your response. He leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss on your forehead, drawing you closer into his embrace. The warmth of his touch was soothing, a comforting reassurance that you were no longer alone.

“We will work this together, my dear.”

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