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soulessjourney · 10 months ago

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One Last Time

Paring: Astarion x fem!DurgTavReader

Word count: 5.5k

Summary: Just what truly happened during the battle with Ketheric Thorm?

Warnings: Angst, Mentions of violence, OOC Astarion, injuries, talk of mental health, some fluff, Tav is on her journey of having a redeption arc, Confessions, some fluff, Heavy Act 2 Spoilers

A/N: Buckle up kiddies this is gonna be a long one. I did add a bit of my own spin on things in some parts just to help fill in the aspects of the fighting to make it more dramatic.

Ketheric Thorm, a man who defied death and wasn't meant to survive. He bore the responsibility for unleashing the Shadow Curse and cowardly sought refuge in Moonrise Towers, at least that's how you perceived it. Meeting him as a true soul set the stage for your downfall. Upon your arrival, your Guardian, with a hint of disgust in her voice, made you acutely aware of his identity. Being in proximity to the absolute felt like a dream, yet an unsettling feeling lingered. You sensed manipulation, as if you were a mere pawn in his game. Moonrise, though familiar, seemed to beckon you, and the guards appeared well-informed about your identity. Anger and fury welled up within you, resentful of the power he wielded. A part of you contended that this power was rightfully yours, and an irresistible urge to claim it consumed you.

As your eyes follow Thorm out of the room, Astarion clears his throat beside you. "Well, that was eventful. Say, how are we supposed to kill someone who can't be killed? Seems like a setup if you ask me." He shrugs, prompting a scoff from Shadowheart.

"You know, Astarion, I would like to go one day without your comments," she grumbles, eliciting a pout from Astarion and a breathless laugh from you. After about a month or two of being together, your group had grown close, opening up in various ways. Despite only being together for a short time, they appointed you the leader, leading to disagreements, especially with more qualified individuals like Gale.

The banter between Astarion and Shadowheart continues as you walk out of the tower. "I'm just saying, Darling, there's no way in the nine hells we can kill someone who simply cannot be killed. That's like asking a rock to walk," he shrugs, shooting a smug smile toward Shadowheart.

Just as she opens her mouth to respond, you cut them off. "That's enough, you two. The entire Shadow Land can hear your bickering," you grumble as Lae’zel nods in agreement. "Besides, we're almost to the Mausoleum, and it's rude to disturb the dead," you say, suppressing a smile at the pure annoyance on Shadowheart's face. It's rare for Astarion to get the last word, and when he does, he becomes the cockiest man alive.

Falling behind your group, Gale nudges you and raises a questioning brow. It's unusual for you to lag behind, considering your usual determination to lead and be the first to jump into action to protect your party. "What's going on in that head of yours?" he asks, keeping his voice low so as not to draw attention.

Shrugging, you fiddle with your armor before letting out a sigh. "I just don't have the best feeling. It's like something is about to happen, and we won't be able to avoid it. I'm worried that whatever we're about to face, there's no coming back from it." Odd feelings weren't unfamiliar to you; after all, you constantly battled the urge to commit daily murders. However, today's unease had you more concerned than usual.

Gale nods, letting out a thoughtful hum as he considers his response. "It's not because I plan on blowing myself up, is it?" he asks, a laugh escaping his lips. His expression turns serious when he notices your lack of laughter. "Tav, everything will be okay. We have each other, and we're all equally dedicated to ensuring our survival. Nothing will happen, and I especially know that Astarion won't let anything happen to you," he says, giving you a knowing look.

You and Astarion shared something, although you weren't sure what it was beyond the occasional intimacy. Both of you were highly protective of each other, yet he dismissed it as shameless flirting. You desired something more with Astarion, but you knew he was apprehensive. He was new to the affection you showed him and unfamiliar with being cared for in a way he had never experienced before.

Just as you were about to respond, a figure emerges from the shadows just before you reach the Mausoleum. Astarion groans at the sight of Raphael gliding towards your group, his usual mischievous smile spread widely across his lips. "Well, well, isn't it my favorite group of adventurers?" he says, stopping just before your group. You step forward, noting how Astarion positions himself behind you, rolling his shoulders forward almost as if to appear larger—a simple act of protection that's hard to resist smiling at. "I know it's odd for a Devil to ask for a favor, but there's something I'll grant you in return," Raphael says, locking his eyes on yours.

Astarion scoffs and crosses his arms. "Just spit it out already; we don't have time for your riddles," he deadpans, shifting closer to you, ready to throw you behind him if Raphael makes a move to harm you.

"Now, now, this isn't the time to lack patience," Raphael says, standing taller. "I need you to take care of a problem, a competition, we can call it. In return, I'll give your little vampire friend answers about the scars on his back—a translation that I know you both are just dying to know." He grins, watching your eyes widen before turning to look back at Astarion. "His name is Yurgir, and dealing with him will do a lot of good. He's breaking his contract and needs to be sent right back to where he came from as a...lesson." He says, looking over your group. "Once you find him, take care of him. I will know, and it will determine if you get the answers you so desperately seek." Just as he finishes his sentence, he disappears right in front of you.

Exhaustion seeps through you as your group stays quiet. "I guess we have some work to do," you mumble, walking forward into the Mausoleum. The others hesitate as they watch you, concerned about your sudden lack of energy. Usually, you would be up for anything, even if it meant dealing with a devil. As you walk into the building, the group exchanges worried glances before following you inside.

---

The confrontation with Yurgir turned out to be surprisingly easy, given his already paranoid state. With his contract entwined in a song, convincing him to turn against his allies, including Nessa, a displacer beast you empathized with, proved to be a straightforward task. In your mind, she didn't deserve to meet her end in the manner she did. Subsequently, you seamlessly entered his paranoid thoughts, persuading him to take his own life. Lae’zel and Astarion, usually at odds, expressed their shared disappointment at the lack of an actual fight to entertain them.

Amidst the discontent, your primary concern shifted to the current state of your group. Shadowheart, driven by determination, sought to complete Shar’s Gauntlet, a symbolic act to ascend and prove her loyalty to her goddess. While you couldn't help but worry about your friend, you understood her desire to seize this opportunity. As she faced the three challenges, ultimately finding the Spear of Night, you sensed a subtle shift in her demeanor.

Standing before the Nightsong, a woman bound to this realm with no apparent escape, you noticed a spark of questioning in Shadowheart's eyes, despite her determination. Confronting Thorm, you learned that releasing the Nightsong was the only way to weaken him and break his hold on immortality. The moment of decision arrived when Shadowheart, succumbing to her doubts, threw the spear over the edge, the mentioning of the forest and the wolves.

A surge of indescribable emotion coursed through you—perhaps pride or worry. It wasn't until Dame Aylin stepped forward, kneeling before Shadowheart, that the situation took a new turn. "Lay a hand of friendship upon me, and break my chains," she gently requested, her eyes meeting Shadowheart's before focusing on you. "Only when I am free can I aid you in taking down Ketheric Thorm." Shadowheart hesitated, glancing back at you for guidance.

Slowly nodding, she reached forward, resting a hand on Dame Aylin, breaking her chains once and for all. A portal opened behind you, and just before you could turn away, your eyes locked on Dame Aylin. Her armor began to form on her skin, and wings emitting a heavenly glow spread out behind her. Despite the look of recognition, all you received was a nod before she took off, leaving your group alone.

---

Now that Dame Aylin was free, things seemed to have accelerated much faster than anticipated. Drained and utterly tired, all you desired was to rest. Your head buzzed, and your ears rang, yet there you stood before Moonrise Towers, gearing up to face Ketheric Thorm. The urgency escalated with Dame Aylin's freedom, and a dark part of you wished she hadn't been released just so you could have some time to recuperate.

As you looked up at the towers, your body tensed when someone moved to stand beside you. A sense of relief washed over you as you saw Astarion. Smiling down, he shifted on his feet. "We're going to win, Darling. You have all of us ready to fight at your side. Don't overthink it," he said, shaking his head to silence any protests. "I can practically hear the gears turning in that pretty little head of yours," he added with a teasing grin. "But before we go in, can we talk? It's rather important, just in case we do meet our doom in there," he said softly.

Giving a half-hearted smile, you felt the exhaustion seeping out of you. Astarion took your hand, leading you aside as the rest of the group looked at you in question before starting their own conversations, providing you and Astarion with some privacy. "Are you alright?" you asked, scanning him for any injuries he might have sustained.

His expression changed, as if he were at war with himself. "Oh yes, I'm fine. I just... feel awful about something," he admitted. Confusion crept over you as you tried to recall any recent events that might explain his unease. It wasn't until you saw him shift nervously that you gave him a reassuring smile.

He continued, revealing a plan to seduce you, manipulate your feelings, and use you to defeat Cazador. The revelation left a bitter taste of betrayal in your mouth. You shifted, your posture rigid, waiting for an explanation. The truth unfolded—his plan fell apart because he couldn't resist falling for you.

His confession left you grappling with feelings of betrayal and hurt. "Were you even attracted to me? Or was that all a lie as well?" you asked, unable to contain the pain in your voice. His flinch confirmed the discomfort he felt.

Astarion, now uncomfortable and terrified, admitted, "Of course I was attracted to you. Look at you, for goodness’ sake! You’re a vision and so much more than that." He hesitated, expressing uncertainty about his feelings. "I just… I don’t know what to think. I don’t know what I want."

You shared your care for him, admitting your deep feelings. His face lit up at your words, and a soft 'really?' hung in the air. Without thinking, you moved forward, wrapping your arms around him in a gentle but secure hug. It felt like a silent promise of your genuine care. As he reciprocated the embrace, you sensed a change in him.

Astarion, being himself, smiled and cleared his throat. "You... You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?" he remarked, his eyes locking with yours, revealing hidden emotions. He let out a nervous laugh, pulling your attention back to him. "Honestly, I have no idea what we’re doing or what comes next," he confessed, holding out his hand.

You stared at his hand before placing your palm on top of his. His cool skin covered yours as he drew you closer. "But I know that this? This is nice," he whispered.

There you stood, face flushed, realizing that, in a twisted way, Astarion truly loved you, and you loved him more than anything. Happiness mingled with worry, as he chose this moment to confess, fearing the possibility of not making it out alive. Yet, living in the now, you vowed to fight alongside him, grateful for the truth he finally shared.

Wyll cleared his throat, redirecting your attention to the group standing there, beaming at the two of you. It was evident they had overheard everything, and judging by the look on Shadowheart’s face, a secretly hopeless romantic, they had heard it all.

"Okay, you lovebirds, we have a Thorm on our side that we need to kill," Wyll declared, letting out a loud laugh at his own joke. However, the laughter died down when no one else joined in. An awkward silence hung in the air until you snorted, breaking the tension and sending the rest of your group into fits of laughter.

Even in the face of potential doom, moments like these made you grateful to have them by your side. Wyll looked around, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes. "Oh, I see how it is. It’s only funny when you put me down," he grumbled, prompting a genuine laugh from Lae’zel. The sound, rare and cherished, resonated among your group, appreciating the unexpected moment of joy.

---

The echoes of your laughter felt like a distant memory as you stood before Ketheric Thorm, anger seeping through you at the sight of him. The yells of your party echoed behind you as they fought against his soldiers, while he remained solely focused on you. Despite being mortal, he carried himself with immense confidence, as if convinced you could never truly defeat him. His smug demeanor fueled your desire to rip his head from his shoulders, yet something kept you rooted in the spot where you stood. Your attention shifted when something hot grazed your arm, prompting a pained yell as you gripped the wounded area. Thorm looked down at you with a smug smile, his eyes darkening.

"Who knew that you would come crawling to my doorstep? Why have you returned? Do you miss the throne in which you once sat?" he taunted, his words striking you like poison.

Although you had been here before, the realization that you used to occupy the throne he now warmed was a revelation. "I’m here to kill you," you declared, your hand warming with the blood seeping from your wounded arm. "I’m here to witness your downfall, and I’m going to enjoy every second of it," you spat, dropping your hand from your arm as you reached for the staff positioned on your back.

Thorm responded with an amused laugh, scanning the surroundings. "You? Kill me? I suppose you didn’t learn your lesson from the last time we had a falling out. Your father would be laughing at you now, seeing his perfect child turning her back on him," he seethed. Your eyes widened slightly before you shook your head. He was trying to toy with you, attempting to make you drop your guard, but you refused to let that happen.

You felt the fire spread through your palms before it traveled across the room toward Thorm. The lack of any reaction from him made you second-guess whether he was truly mortal now. Ascending the stairs, you stood face-to-face with Thorm, narrowing your eyes into a challenging glare. Swinging your weapon, the sound of steel clashing filled the air.

"You have the opportunity to surrender, Thorm. You don’t have to live like this," you declared, your voice stern as you pushed your weight into your weapon.

Thorm laughed and glared down at you. "You’ve become so weak. Your father has done nothing but brag about you, and yet here you are, offering me mercy. You are no daughter of his; no wonder you were cast out," he seethed, lifting his foot to kick you back. Tumbling, your weapon clashed against the ground beside you, and your eyes filled with fire. The urge to rip him apart from the inside out consumed you, and the taste of blood filled your mouth as your body became rigid.

The staff next to you vanished as a long sword with intricate designs slowly appeared in your hand. Standing slowly, you raised your eyes to meet his once more, and a smile settled onto his face. "There she is—the killer your father raised you to be," he said, rolling his shoulders back. A snarl escaped you as you raced forward, only to be thrown back as Dame Aylin slammed down into the area next to you and Thorm.

"Ketheric Thorm, your time is over. Here, you will fall by my hand," she declared as you stood up, your body shaking in rage. "My friend here has kept you busy enough; now it is my turn to aid her in this fight. You should’ve stayed dead," she snarled, leaping forward and landing a hit on Thorm, causing him to stumble back. Seizing the opportunity, you ran from beside her, slicing at him and making him groan in protest as your blade sank into his arm. The two of you fought in sync, one striking after another, knocking Thorm back with each blow.

Just when you thought things would finally be over, Thorm's soldiers stopped fighting, and the room grew quiet. Clutching your side to put pressure on the wound Thorm had given you moments prior, you spat the blood that filled your mouth onto the ground.

"You should’ve just let things rest. We wouldn’t have to go through all this fighting if you just let things remain the way they did," Thorm remarked, glancing toward the side of the roof. As if on cue, a large tentacle sprouted from the side of the building, knocking you off the platform. Landing on the ground a few feet away from Shadowheart, you struggled to suck in the air that was knocked out of your lungs. Helpless, you watched Dame Aylin try her best to fight the tentacle before being wrapped up and taken under the tower.

Shadowheart dropped to her knees beside you, holding a vial up to your lips. "Drink this; you’re in no shape to move," she said, her eyes scanning your body, taking in every wound. "Gods, Tav, you’re going to overwork yourself like this. We can take Thorm while you rest," she suggested gently, attempting to tend to your wounds. Pushing her hand away, you shook your head before sitting up, finally able to catch your breath.

"No, I need to take him down. I won’t leave you guys to fight alone," you grunted, wincing at just how sore your entire body was. Muffling the whimper that left your mouth, you stood before hobbling over towards the hole left in one of the pillars. The others walked up behind you, peering down from beside you. Looking at the others, you nodded before jumping down into the hole, listening as they followed behind you.

---

The path to find Thorm once again was long and grueling as you made your way through the mind-flayer colony. Along the way, you enlisted the help of a small brain that you had saved on the ship when you were first kidnapped. Now, you stood before the door separating you from Thorm. Upon your entrance, you noticed two other individuals with him—the same ones from your visions, but something about them seemed familiar. A chill ran through your bones when you heard her name: Orin. Hearing that name sent waves of anger through you, and you could even taste a small hint of betrayal as you looked at her. Something snapped you from your trance when you noticed Gale step forward. You had completely forgotten that he promised to carry out Mystra’s request, and the anger towards the goddess filled you once more.

“Whatever you are thinking of doing, Gale, it’s not worth it,” you said, meeting his gaze. He looked determined, and the sight broke your heart. “I won’t let you blow yourself up. We can find another way to please her or even save you, but ending your life like this isn’t worth it.” Part of you couldn't figure out why you were determined to save Gale, but the other knew that you needed him there. He was a friend and someone you knew how to talk to, seeking comfort when you weren’t sure how to open up to Astarion.

Astarion stepped up next to you and brushed your fingers with his before looking at Gale. “For once, I agree with our Darling leader here. We can’t afford to lose you just yet. You can blow yourself up another time, but that time isn’t now,” he said, meeting Gale’s eyes with determination.

Gale sighed and nodded as he looked at his two friends—one who was nothing but worried about him and the other begging him, in the most twisted way, to stay alive. “Alright, you’re right. Maybe this isn’t my time to go just yet. We have other opportunities for me to blow myself up. I’ll stay and fight beside you, and I promise to give it my all,” he said, smiling as your body relaxed, and relief filled your worn-down body.

As you stepped forward, Thorm met your gaze, his eyes hardening. "I see you all made it here alive—a shame, truly. I never wanted to hurt you, and I certainly never wanted to kill you. You all had so much to live for," he said, pity filling his voice. Your mind raced as you thought back to the letters you found in the tower. The letters from his wife and daughter gave you a chance at an attempt to convince him.

"Thorm, you don’t need to do this. You could be with Melodia again; you can be with the one you love without consequences," you said softly, stepping forward and wincing as you raised your arms to hold up your hands. "She’s waiting for you to come back to her, and you can finally use this as a chance to see her again." The battle in his eyes was evident. Looking towards Gale, you signaled him to go free Dame Aylin from the hold Thorm had on her. Gale nodded in silent agreement before disappearing from the spot next to you.

If Thorm did see Gale, he paid him no mind. "The goddess wouldn’t allow that to happen, not with what I have done," he said quietly, almost as if he was thinking it over. "Selûne would never allow me to be with her, not after the things that I have done." You couldn’t help but hear the pain in his voice as he spoke. He truly wanted to be with her, and you could see that internal war happening in his head.

"But you can. You can show Selûne that you’re willing to give this all up and give yourself to her. You can show her that you’re willing to sacrifice power just to be with the one person that you truly love." You didn’t know why your voice wobbled or why it felt like you would cry, but then it hit you. You would give everything to be with Astarion; you would sacrifice yourself to see him if he had been taken from you. You would destroy the world or give yourself to a goddess just to see him one last time.

Thorm looked at you for a moment before nodding, and nothing but relief filled you. You weren’t sure if your body could take another fight right at this moment. “You’re right,” he said, “I can be with her, but I apologize for what happens next. I can’t stop it.” You froze at his words. What did he mean by those words? Before you could continue to think, Thorm threw himself over the edge into the green abyss.

Astarion scoffed as he looked at the others. “So you’re telling me all we had to do was convince him that he could see his wife, and he would just end any and all fighting for us? Why didn’t we do that sooner?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. Just as he spoke his words, a rumble vibrated around them. Astarion opened his mouth to say something when a large skeletal hand reached up and slammed itself down in front of you, causing you to stumble back to avoid being smashed.

Another rumble sounded, but this time it sounded more like a groan. “I am the haunt of mausoleums, the god of graves and age,” a loud booming voice grumbled as a large figure started to emerge where Thorm had thrown himself. “Of dust and dusk. I am Myrkul, and you have slain my Chosen.” Your eyes widened in recognition. The god of death. You were about to go head-to-head with a god, and part of you just wanted to drop then and there. With your injuries, you had no idea if you would survive this. “But it is no matter, for I am Death. And I am not the end–I am a beginning,” it finished.

Beside you, you heard a gasp from Astarion and the others. “What in the nine hells is that thing?” he asked as you began to back away. The large skeletal figure reached out his hand, and a large scythe flew into his grasp. Sweat began to collect at your brow as the stinging in your side grew. You could taste the bile starting to rise in your throat, and the loss of blood started to catch up with you.

You didn’t miss how Shadowheart looked at you; she knew you were in pain, but you were relieved that the others were oblivious. Biting back a groan, you stood taller, letting your eyes focus on the being before you. “That is a god,” you grumbled, listening to Astarion let out a string of colorful words. Before you had any time to react, Myrkul swung his weapon down towards you, the tip of it catching your leg, causing you to let out a pained yell.

You weren’t sure if it was your yell that set them off or the sudden attack, but as you caught your balance, spells and arrows began to fly through the air toward Myrkul. The moment Dame Aylin was free of her confines, she let out a roar as she aimed to take down the god in front of you. Your head was spinning, and you felt as if the world would go black, but you kept pushing, determined to help your friends. Missiles shot from you, landing their mark as Myrkul let out a screech, swinging his weapons towards everyone. The fight felt as if it went on for hours, years even, before the sight of Astarion and Karlach were thrown off the raised area in which you were standing.

The sight of the lack of movement from Astarion sent a blinding rage through you. A loud and violent scream tore through you as panic filled your very being. You swung your weapon, landing hit after hit on the God of Death. It wasn’t until there was a loud screech from the god that you realized that he had fallen. The sight of Thorm now lying a few feet away from you put you in another blind rage. Stomping towards him, he looked up at you helplessly, fear filling his eyes at the sight of you. He was terrified of dying by your hand, but you paid no mind to the thought. Letting out another scream, you sunk your dagger into him, only to pull it from him and repeat the motions over and over. “This is your fault,” you seethe over and over, the blood coating your face in the process. The feeling of hands on your shoulders and a large body dragging you away had you kicking and screaming as you thrashed in their grip. “No, I need to send him back to where he came from, he doesn’t deserve to see her.” You scream, your eyes focused on the body before you.

A hand cups the back of your head as you’re spun around in the individual’s arms where they press your face to their broad chest. “He’ll get what’s coming to him, but you need to breathe, calm down.” Halsin. His low voice works to calm you as he massages his fingers into the back of your head just above where the now loose knot of your hair sits. You begin to feel your body relax as every ounce of rage leaves you and sobs begin to rack your body. “It’ll be alright, go to him, see if he’s okay,” Halsin whispers, slowly letting you go. You back away and welcome his touch as he wipes his thumbs under your eyes, swiping away any tears you had. He looked at you like you were his daughter, and he worried just like any father would.

Nodding, your gaze falls on Astarion before you scramble over to him, falling to your knees. Grabbing his face in your hands, you caress his cold cheeks before shaking him. “Astarion, wake up,” you grumble, shaking him again. “Wake up, or I swear to the Nine Hells I’ll sell my soul to make Raphael bring you back just so I can kill you myself.” You whimpered, when there was no response you let your head fall to rest on his chest as you squeezed your eyes shut.

A hand moves and places itself on the back of your head before you feel his chest rattle with a cough. “Who knew you were such a romantic, Darling, threatening to take my life all over again.” Your body snaps up as he keeps his head on the back of your head before moving it to rest on your cheek, caressing the skin gently.

Smacking his chest, you let out a sniffle as your muscles and wounds scream in pain. “I thought you died,” you sob, looking away from him. His laugh sent a wave of relief through you as his hand took yours.

“I couldn’t leave you, not after threatening to have Raphael bring me back just so you can do the job yourself; that threat was more terrifying than the god we just faced.” He jokes, causing you to let out a breathless laugh as you lean into his touch. “I’m not going anywhere, my sweet, you’re stuck with me.” Nodding, you help him to his feet as you turn to the others.

“Let's get out of here; we deserve to celebrate, especially since we finally broke the shadow curse. A night of drinking and sleep sounds perfect right about now.” You say, watching as your group, no your family, smile and let out a loud yell of celebration with Dame Aylin as she leads the cheers. This was your family, and one you would fight thousands of gods for, even if it means losing yourself in the process.

A/N: She was a long one, but I do hope you guys enjoyed it. I will be turning this into a small series as we get to explore the events that have taken place throughout thier adventure.

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thrawnalani · 1 month ago

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why thralani? like doesn't it ruin the context and backstory he has on how he longs for a big sister figure, in place of vurika?

like thranto is already weird to me, thralani is worse. the most i think is that he is either gay or ace. not bi, never straight, and neither is aralani.

just really weird

idc if its "your au" its severely ooc. at least other aus TRY to make it in character geez.

The basic answer is 1. Because it makes me happy 😊. And 2. i'm also straight, so it's something I can more closely relate to and enjoy. 3. I like drawing masculine men and powerful women.

Thrawn and Ar'alani are not sexual characters. I don't believe it was implied in any of the novels. Maybe it could be implied when Ar'alani believed she was going on a date with Thrawn, and it ended up with a museum monologue adventure? Not to mention Ar'alani took Thrawn to her homestead, 👀👀👀 oooo taking a boy to your homestead sounds quite scandalous. . . but even that's stretching it. . .) I perceived Wutrow and Ar'alani's relationship as admiration for one another professionally. Sisters in arms! So to speak.

I try not to base a character, or any person's sexuality on interests or behaviors. There are masculine men who are with other men, and feminine women with other women. Would it be fair of me to ask why you believe Thrawn and Ar'alani are gay? What if I thought that was weird. . . See how that mindset gets confusing (respectfully 🙏🙏🙏). I suppose what makes Thrawn a fun character to sexualize is because it's never stated in the books. So the possibilities are endless.

*takes hop onto soap box*

I suppose I'd want to ask you all to try not to base any person's sexuality on behaviors or interests, it places people into even smaller boxes than the ones they are already in. I speak of this for friends and family who have been affected by bullying in the LGBT+ community. A community where they were supposed to take comfort in.

*scoots soap box away*

I like the idea of two leaders understanding the burdens they carry and taking comfort in each other. Chracters who have strong exteriors but only expose the softer side when with one another is something that interests me. I suppose I always believed Thrawn would not be attracted to any other species than his own. After all, the Chiss viewed other species as lesser beings. I feel like even if Thrawn did not share the same views, the mindset would continue to be deep-rooted. In my head, Thrawn and Ar'alani were best friends, not necessarily siblings. It isn't uncommon for people to hook up simply to fulfill desires. I like to toss around the idea that Thrawn and Ar'alani's relationship was one such as this, and then blossomed into something more. Additionally, I viewed Thrass as the one to take the role of sibling. Even if he wasn't necessarily a sister. Thrass filled the hole that was left by Vurika

Honestly, I can't sincerely envision Thrawn being with Eli Vanto. I always saw them as a Father/Son, brothers in arms, Master/Apprentice vibe, but that doesn't mean I don't enjoy fanfiction, because phew! That Thranto fanfiction makes me tear up sometimes.

But that's the beauty of literature! Everybody can interpret it in a different lense! I create content only for myself, and to visualize my strange desires. I post because I'm sure someone else out there has the same twisted mind as me.

Wow that turned philosophical. My bad! I hope I answered your questions 🤗.

#simpingforblueboy #thrawn #star wars #chiss #thrawn fanfiction #aralani #soapbox #thrawn ascendancy

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pupmkincake2000 · 10 months ago

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As I said earlier, I'm currently playing Astarion origin, and to be honest, he seems a little ok (too ooc, however, because I am always a good guy) but there are some things that give me pause. However, this is a slightly different story, so… the main topic is that scene with magic now.

I still consider Astarion of the first act to be selfish, manipulative and generally not a good person, pursuing only personal gain and only caring about his own safety (but who is capable of changing under the influence of friends or his love interest in other acts) tho I can agree that he would have tried to seduce Gale anyway. Since I prefer a world without Tav, Gale would be the best option, although Astarion would have to work hard to seduce him. Because Gale seems to be not the one into one night stands (and…I see him bottoming). And imagine them getting to know each other better right during all these seduction attempts. I love this moment when you catch Gale in a vulnerable position and he literally opens up to you and talks so enthusiastically about the weave and magic…

Imagine when Gale invites Astarion to feel the weave, and Astarion says “yes” just so he can have more chances in seducing the wizard. And he doesn’t expect he will like it so much. All these warm pleasant sensations

"you feel something strange like a kind word and a kind touch at the same time. It's warm and comfortable."

I think for Astarion, who hardly experienced anything like this in the last two hundred years of his slavery, this would be a small miracle. A long-forgotten feeling of love and comfort, and Gale is the one who brought this feeling back, at least for a moment.

a "feeling of well-being"

a "feeling of being safe"

No, I mean it, just imagine how his feelings for Gale could change in just one moment! And Astarion, who was only thinking about how to quickly seduce him and use him, suddenly imagines this “concept of complete harmony”

a strange feeling of anticipation of a kiss, followed by peace.

A peace he hadn't felt for years.

It seems to me that it was the very moment when Astarion would have realized he no longer wanted to seduce Gale, because just sex would no longer be enough, not when Gale looked at him with such eyes.

Most likely this is not love yet, but the beginning of it. Moreover,

“the weave connects you. A momant feels intimate”

And Astarion, completely unexpectadly, imagines kissing Gale (a guy he wnted to use) tenderly and passionately, and there is no lust in this kiss, there is passion in it, that bright, long-forgotten feeling of love. But an even greater surprise for him would be that Gale, the one who did not take his seduction seriously, was not at all opposed to kissing back, moreover, this thought arouses no less delight in him. I think Astrion will have a lot to think about after this.

And Gale’s phrase “it’s amazing how easily what we managed to get with such difficulty eludes us” will stay in his head for a long time. And let’s not forget about “a furtive glance, a sudden flutter of the heart… Sometimes little things are worth more than entire kingdoms.” This is not only a good idea for their story, but also describes a possible relationship. After such words, Astarion will no longer be able to perceive him as someone whom he simply wanted to use or seduce. From now on he wants this man for himself. And this will most likely scare him, but only for a short moment.

#bg3 #bg3 astarion #bg3 gale #baldur's gate 3 #bloodweave #astarion x gale #astarion ancunin #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep

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nexionswild · 1 year ago

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IN WHICH MANEATER!reader admits their feelings for the van der linde boys. [p.2] [p.1]

includes: charles ∿ lenny ∿ sean ∿ bill

content warning: fluff, a little angsty in bill’s part, no pronouns [GN]

a/n: i think half of them are so ooc nd im so sorry omdgshjq i’m still trying to figure out how to write for lenny and sean but i promise i’ll get better with time 🦾

✦ ﹒ charles smith

you caught him off guard, that's for sure..

charles is used to being perceived as intimidating and scary, considering his origins and his size, but that's what you like about him.

he never noticed how you'd stare lovingly whenever he'd explain his cultural way of hunting down animals or practice some other things.

and you never noticed how much he had to turn his head away when he saw you flirting men according to dutch's plan. but charles have dignity, and would admit to have found himself jealous every time you'd coo love words out of those pretty lips of yours.

probably needs time to acknowledge that you're dead serious about this relationship, and really looking forward to it. he's not against it tho, he's just.. surprised.

be ready because those massive hands of his are never leaving your waist the moment he gracefully accepts your confession. like never ever. and he doesn't have any shame either, and maybe he'll refrain from being too much of a sweetie in camp for your sake, given you can be easily embarassed if he surprise you with his loving demeanour, but he won't hold back as soon as the gang members are away.

"my mother taught me all the ways to treat a lover.. i hope it'll meet your expectations."

unfiltered romantic. it makes you blush how much he says the most romantic thing out of pocket and pretend like that never happened.

your name is the only thing that comes out of his mouth every now and then, you know because arthur keeps mentioning how much charles talks about you as if you were the only beautiful thing that's plaguing his mind.

✦ ﹒ lenny summers

lenny is so flustered, i'm sorry, god, he's baby

he probably stammered like a fool after you confessed, why wouldn't he? you're perfect, so perfect and he's just some kid, trying to be a big bad outlaw. perhaps that's what you like about him. he's nervous like a little kitty, and lord knows how much nervous men makes your day.

"i- i.. ahem.. yes, yes, of course!"

you made him so embarassed, i hope you're proud of yourself.

he'll struggle telling you how jealous he felt, it didn't really struck his mind first before you even confessed, i mean, sure he did think you were charming, but he never really bat an eye at your work.

he only got feelings because you were fun to listen to, you didn’t notice how he’d watch you every time you went on your drunken rants. it’s only recently that you found out according to karen.

for most of the part, lenny would rely on you. i mean you can’t blame him, you’re popular. in a way, you are, you’re like dutch. you have a lot of contacts, and charisma, he’s been a bystander. he’s pretty awkward, he doesn’t know what to do, but you find it cute, somehow.

of course, he’ll start to man up eventually when he feels more confident by the time you’ve shown him what you’re most comfortable with in terms of love languages, and he easily adapts himself to it. i mean, he absolutely loves spending time with you, and the amount of patience you put in for him really melts his heart in a way, but he’ll never admit it. ever.

depending on what you’re most comfortable with, lenny would gladly ride all the way to saint-denis for the simple wish of getting you something expensive, or even bring you along with him so you get to choose what you want. something he didn’t expect to see is you using your flirtatious ways of getting an item for free.

“you really know how to fool a man.. please don’t make a fool out of me.”

✦ ﹒ sean macguire

“ha! i knew ya’d fall for me!”

absolutely did not know you’d fall for him.

sean likes to be confident, at least he likes to appear confident. but often mix things up with arrogance, and if you were to call him out on that, he would tone it down a little. he doesn’t mean to be rude to you, he’s genuinely happy, he just doesn’t know how to properly express it.

sean have a loud mouth, and he didn’t hide the fact that he was getting irritated when men were attracted to you, often times he’d be barked at by arthur or john for fucking up your plan for being jealous. he never understood it, he thought he was being a gentleman chasing those creeps away.

he’s a comedian, on accident. you don’t know how to describe it but there’s something really sweet in seeing him ramble to the point where he’s humorous like that. you guess that’s how you fell for him. sean is so honest. and so dumb, too.

what you most love, is when he gets drunk. that’s where he starts to be overwhelmingly affectionate. and the gang teases you about it, but you couldn’t care less. he’s adorable that way! why would you make fun of something as precious as his honesty? especially when he’s slurring on his words, too?

he’s not a charmer with words, and he knows it. that’s why the best he could do to prove his love is by teasing or joking around with you, he’s trying his best.

“these english men keeps bullyin’ ya… just tell me! i’ll shoot ‘em right between thei’ eyes, yeah?”

he wants to look strong and fearless for you, he wants to impress you in every way he can. sometimes, you’d see him getting angry about the fact that he lost something, wether i’d be a fist fight or a game, but the moment he sees you, he gets embarrassed.

you’re the only one who can reassure him that what he failed to achieve doesn’t matter much, the effort is more important.

✦ ﹒ bill williamson

doesn’t believe you. at all.

bill was always made fun of, or teased by others to get a rise out of him. and he doesn’t believe you, because he thinks it’s just another way to make him mad. but he can’t help and think how evil this is, using you, someone he truly admire, to pick on him?

when you insist that you’re not joking, bill starts to get angry. not at you, but it’s just the way he is, he’s trying his best but he’s still in doubt.

given your reputation with men, and how many times he have to ignore you on duty, he just think it’s purely for the entertainment of seeing him falling like a fool. williamson is someone who’s not joking around, and that you know.

“if you love me, why would you?” he snaps. then immediately regrets. he doesn’t wanna lash it out on you, and he’d drink himself to death if he’s actually convinced that you love him that way.

he wants to apologize, but no words are leaving his mouth. and there’s an unbearable amount of pressure on his shoulders by this point, but when you take your time and explain to him the reason behind your fondness, he softens up a tad.

you had the patience to deal with him, surely you were serious?

“fine. i believe you. but i’m warning you, if this is some sick joke, i’ll—… i’ll…”

he won’t do anything.

for the past few weeks, you’ve been awfully affectionate towards him to prove your point. and he complains about it, tho he secretly enjoy having your full undivided attention. every time dutch planned to take him for a mission, you’ve been prepping his saddle and equipments, and when he came back, you’ve welcome him back with your arms open.

and while you were acting like some kind of stay-at-home spouse, bill would be silently protective over you. when you have to talk to men and women and fake another of your identity to wrap them around your finger, bill would silently sit at a table nearby and watch carefully, making sure no one lays a finger on you.

and when you thank him for his care through kisses, all you hear are grumbling noises and a little “you’re welcome”.

he’s just an angry worked up man, but you love him for it. (surprisingly!)

#🎀 : nexion 's hcs #rdr2 x reader #gender neutral reader #reader insert #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #x reader #xreader #charles smith x reader #sean macguire x reader #lenny summers x reader #bill williamson x reader #rdr2 #rdr #sean macguire #charles smith #lenny summers #bill williamson

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aldeanotes · 1 year ago

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the art of cooking

aemond / modern!reader, 16+, fluff / comedy / mild angst in later plot points. inspiration taken from kdrama mr. queen. reader is very bi and loves girls so much.

summary: in which you are a famous young chef whose soul was transported into the body of some way too pretty and privileged noble woman. oh, and you’re supposed to marry a prince or whatever. anyway, can you test this to see if it's ready ?

warnings: reader is batshit wild and doesn't have time for westerosi norms : ). characters will be ooc at times and this story is not entirely canon compliant.

author's notes: sorry for the very long delay !!! i've had so much going on !!!

tag list: @azaleapotterblack, @aurorathi

chapter two: / 5.2k words

Sitting before Otto and Alicent Hightower, you realize, quite bluntly, you don’t want to be here. They’re going to think you’re out of your mind if you speak the truth of the situation – you fell in some water and then woke up here in this place – but it’s the truth nonetheless. Given their hardened expressions (that Otto gives you and Alicent has the mercy to give it to the floor instead of you), you have a feeling they already don’t like the situation as they perceive it.

Which is that the younger prince’s betrothed (you make a face whenever they refer to this relation) has suffered a memory loss and the greatest doctors of this age can’t seem to fix it through traditional means.

Alicent takes in a deep breath, finally breaking her intense eye contact with the floor and running her hands briefly across her face in slight distress. Though, you have a feeling she’s a little bit of a mess inside. You shift uncomfortably in the seat at the Small Council. Jaquetta’s comforting presence is behind you. Unfortunately, the other presence in the room causes you to pretend to be deeply interested in the space between Alicent’s eyebrows.

Prince Aemond sits across from you, next to Otto. If he’s looking at you, you don’t know. You don’t care. He’s not YOUR betrothed, after all, and you have no joy in getting married to anybody. In your real life in your real body, you never had a good example to follow for a healthy relationship, and this girl’s body and that guy sitting across from you do not contain brains that are smart enough to realize that marriage in your teens is a usually bad idea.

Apparently none of the brains of the others in the room are smart either.

“Your uncle and sister are on their way. I have already written to them informing them of the situation,” Alicent breaks the tense silence, looking right at you.

Your eyes meet hers, and you can see a certain kind of tiredness in them. You feel inclined to just nod, so you do. You hope these people will be normal, at least.

“Regarding the marriage–” Otto’s voice pierces straight to the point. He has this way of speaking that makes you feel like he teeters around certain topics like a fighter circling his opponent. “It would be best if we–”

You raise your hand suddenly. Your eyes stare right at the table’s surface. You don’t want to know what everyone else looks like at your actions. You open your mouth and let out a dumb sound – “Um.” There’s a small pause. “Question.” You smack your lips as you gather up all your courage to make your inquiry. “Can we just, you know, not have it?”

Jaquetta grips your shoulder tightly and you know you’ve messed up.

“That is not an option,” Alicent says.

Her tone is sharp enough to cause you to flinch and hesitantly look up at her. Your eyes meet her brown ones. You feel a weight on you. You’ve come to realize in the brief moments you’ve looked at her that Alicent comes through in the eyes. Even as they capture you in their vision, you can’t look away.

It all feels much like how things used to be with your mother.

Alicent must sense the way you retreat into yourself because she swallows before continuing on in a gentler voice.

“It is for the good of the realm.”

But you don’t care about that. Jacquetta has tried telling you of things here and there, but, for the love of the creator, you have no investment in the happenings of this world the same way these people do. You’re a foreign entity trapped here, treated with a different level of scrutiny and pushed down by traditions that have been relatively abandoned in your own world. It feels unfair. You want to scream at these people.

“But I’m not well,” you say. It’s the only real protest you have.

Alicent purses her lips and glances down at her intertwined hands on the table. Her father beats her to it.

“To speak plainly of it,” he starts, and you already can tell from his tone that you’d been doomed to this fate before you even knew it. “This marriage contract has already been approved by the royal household and your house. The wedding is to be held in three months’ time –”

You put your face in your hands.

(“Oh, my fucking god,” you whisper into your flesh. Otto ignores you.)

“Given the time frame, we will not be able to cancel the wedding nor is it in the interest of the realm to do so.”

A wave of nausea hits you, and you distinctly feel like throwing up.

“Your uncle and sister have been informed of the situation and will be arriving within the month,” Otto says. He speaks like everything is final, and as you feel the walls close in around you, you realize it is. “We will have to make use of these three months to be sure you are presentable in time for the wedding.”

Something like dread settles in your stomach. Forget the uncle and sister. Your more immediate worry is about how they plan on making you ‘presentable’ at a wedding you don’t want to a person you don’t know.

Your voice is small when you speak again. “And you’re going to do that – how ?”

“We will arrange some tutors and a septa to be at your side at all times,” Alicent chimes in.

‘At all times’ – you get the impression it’s more to keep an eye on you rather than for your benefit. After not giving yourself nearly enough time to process everything, you lift your head up and glance between Otto and Alicent. You ignore the way Aemond has taken to tapping his finger on the table top.

“So that’s it?” You ask. They say nothing. “Just like that?”

Still nothing.

You look at your last lifeline. Aemond has stopped tapping on the table and is looking back at you when you finally forget the uncomfortable tension between the two of you. You must look pathetic because his lone eye flickers over your face as if he’s taking you in. Even in this situation, he makes your spine go a little cold. It takes some strength not to flinch back from him.

“You–” You take a breath to collect yourself. “You don't really want this either. Right?” You might as well be pleading to him right now with the way your eyes look at him and the way you wave your arm around. “There’s no way you actually agree. I mean – I’m not me anymore.”

He just regards you in brief silence.

“You don’t want to do this!” Your voice raises a bit and Jaquetta stiffens next to you.

“I will perform my duty to the realm,” Aemond answers, keeping your gaze.

You’re floored, a breathy chuckle leaving you at his words. The corners of your mouth twitch up as if he’d told a joke. It was a sick one, if you’d ever heard one. Your arm that you’d been waving around flops helplessly onto your lap as you watch him turn to his mother and grandfather.

“I will wed my betrothed as agreed upon.”

You don’t know if it’s commendable or downright idiotic of him to marry someone who clearly he knows is not normal. Your lips part to make another protest but all that comes out is air. Everyone in this room with any semblance of power greater than your own has shut you down. Your worries are cast aside. They’re like whispers in the wind to these people.

Otto says something before getting up and walking away. You retreat back into your mind as you always do when you’re frightened, when things are beyond your control like this. The screech of chairs don’t awaken you from your state. Your eyes bore into the polished table, and you think you might almost cry but your eyes flutter shut to stop them. How can you even stop this?

Jaquetta kneels down beside you and takes your hand. You feel a little less alone.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The septa, which you realize is something like a nun, assigned to you is boring and overbearing. Septa Lettice is stern, rule-abiding and watches your every move. Even Jaquetta has difficulty adjusting to this new presence in your life, her bright smile appearing a little tight against the septa’s neutral expression. You can’t even so much as go for a stroll without her lingering right on top of you. Her teachings are even worse.

While you’ve been spared from being inflicted any physical punishments, when you raise protests against whatever bullshit she tries shoving down your throat, she’s quick to dole out more readings or lessons to occupy any free time you were waiting for. Though you at least admit that not all these long sermons on the Faith of the Seven are for naught. You find that this world is just as brutal and unfair as the damn Dark Ages in your own world. A discovery which makes you look forward to your time here. Of course.

You whisper your practiced prayers monotonously so she’ll get off your back.

When it’s not with Septa Lettice, Alicent and Otto have been kind enough to assign you other trusted governesses to teach you etiquette, speech and some admittedly more useful knowledge like history and basic finances. The governess presiding over your history and financial lessons finds you more agreeable than Septa Lettice and the other governesses that try to wrangle in your resistant behavior. The first week you attempted to just not show up for the first couple of lessons, and the following week you found that several palace servants had come early in the morning to escort you to your daily lessons. You try for another escape through the window and it takes both Septa Lettice and Jaquetta their entire strength to pull you back inside. Alicent gives you a thorough verbal reprimand that evening, and it’s enough to get you to curb your behavior somewhat.

Jaquetta proves herself to be your greatest asset, though.

“This is your house, my lady,” she says, unfurling a piece of soft, muted purple fabric with your house’s sigil on it.

You flinch a little at the sight of a shrike perched upon a branch with one of its meals skewered on a thorn against the backdrop of a castle.

“Kind of gruesome,” you reply, looking down at your botched attempt at sewing a flower for your embroidery lesson. It looks like a distorted mess, like a plate of spaghetti that’s been dropped on the ground.

Jaquetta smiles widely. “The shrike with its prey has been your house’s sigil since its founding. Your ancestors used the bird’s way of killing its victims to build Shrikesdrop to defend against enemies.”

Shrikesdrop – the ancestral seat of House Durant. It’s perched miles high above the water’s surface, impossible to invade by a beach landing and nearly impenetrable by any army thanks to the steep incline of the roads that lead up to it. According to Jaquetta and a couple notes you found in a book here and there, Shrikesdrop has spikes that resemble thorn covered branches that can impale thousands of men who are unfortunate enough to fall off the inclines. Your house has perfected many tricks to get people to fall off of it, and death by impalement is apparently the go-to execution method of your house. You suddenly didn’t want to meet your uncle and sister after hearing that.

“‘As Sharp as Thorns’,” you mumble your house words. It’s dumb, but you guess it’s the best your ancestors could do.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You don’t mean to stumble across Aemond again. It just happens. Like so much in your two lives.

While you don’t exactly allow yourself to get extinguished fully, you at least understand that your ability to get some manner of freedom rests on some compromise on your part. And, well, you’re pretty smart. Smart enough to remember your lessons, to execute the right angle when you greet your governesses, to hold your head high like you’ve always had blue blood in your veins. That was all you had to pay in exchange for some free time.

It’s the sound of steel clashing that causes you to hurry to the platform overlooking the training grounds, eager for some action to rid you of your boredom.

Your opinion of your betrothed is tainted, of course, because of your judgments. It’s also a little difficult to find yourself liking someone you’re forcefully bound to at this point. However, you can’t deny it. The silver locks that fly about like feathers belonging to a bird of prey are what catch your eye first. You can spot them as he dances about the ground, the dirt crunching underneath his boots.

You can’t see his lone eye, but you feel that if you were close enough they’d have that unsettling intensity you’d seen before – honed in on something. His body is both strong yet nimble as he readies himself. His hand grasps the sword as if it were part of his body.

He’s a fighter.

Fire and Blood – Jaquetta taught you the Targaryen words before those of your own house. The blood of the dragon.

You’d heard the screeching of the dragons sometimes, but you’d never been allowed to rush to see them. Somewhere between your acceptance of your fate and your need to cling on to what you know, you think you’d prefer not to see one. Aemond’s dragon, Vhagar, is the largest in the world, or so you’ve been told.

“Shit,” you hiss underneath your breath when you see Aemond’s opponent take such a fierce swing at him.

Your fingers grip the edge of the platform. The hard surface superficially scratches the skin of your palm. It’s a reflexive reaction, but unnecessary. Aemond blocks it gracefully and disengages cleanly. You release a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“Fear not, my lady,” Septa Lettice says. “Ser Criston Cole will not harm the prince.”

Criston Cole, the most trusted sworn sword of Queen Alicent and member of the king’s guard. The best knight in all of the land. Apparently. The royal family sure does have access to some of the best things and people in this land.

Criston circles Aemond after engaging once again, facing towards you as you watch from the platform. Watching training interests you in ways that lessons do not. Perhaps it is the deadliness of it or perhaps it is because even you understand that observing two skilled warriors in a small battle is a luxury few can see. Dark eyes flicker up to you and you stiffen, realizing that Criston is looking right at you.

He says something you can’t make out to Aemond. As soon as you see the back of Aemond’s head begin to move, you run off, Jaquetta and Lettice chasing after you behind you.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Your beloved Septa scolds you all the way back inside and only lowers her voice when you begin to pass through the busy halls of the Red Keep. Her expression of concern for your dress skirt getting dirty mirrors a stressed chicken, noisily frantic. You just sigh as she keeps on talking.

Even when you are given free will to wander about as you please, everything feels rather … boring once the splendor of the place begins to wear off. The architecture and luxury is impressive, of course, but how much gold thread and pointed stars can you bask in before you start to long for home again? The faces that greet you and pass by you don’t interest you. You’re selfish with your time. There’s no use entertaining yourself with people that won’t alleviate your anxiety or boredom.

“My lady, you should have stayed and spoken with Prince Aemond,” Jaquetta says, walking a little ways behind you.

You give a dry chuckle. “I’ve got better things to do than that. I’d rather be bored to death. Or go pray at the Sept all day.”

As if you’d want to spend more time with him than you have. Maybe if you prayed to these Gods enough they’d send you back home, but you find that gods tend not to listen to your pleas.

“Prince Aemond is a good prince,” Jaquetta continues. “He is studious, talented in fighting and dedicated to his studies. You have always enjoyed his company so well–”

Her words stop because she’s run into the back of you. You felt the hit but your eyes were trained on someone. A young lady walks across the hall and she is stunning.

“Whoa,” you breathe out as your eyes remain fixed on her. “Who’s that?”

Her silver hair falls past her shoulders, a lone braid framing the top of her head like a crown. You recognize the shade violet that stains her irises, but they look way better on her. Fuck your betrothed. Who gives a fuck about him when there’s pretty girls instaed?

Jaquetta quirks an eyebrow at you before following your eyes and responding, “That is the Princess Helaena Targaryen. You may not remember her since you lost your memories, but you two have been companions since little and– My lady, where are you going?”

Of course, you pick up your dress skirt from off the floor and make your way over to Helaena. Too high for this society’s standards but perfectly comfortable to you (which is all that matters). Jaquetta and Lettice follow after you with their cheeks flushed.

You execute the encounter as perfectly as you do in your head. Every step has a certain charismatic swagger to it as you approach the princess with a wide smile. Your shoes make soft sounds on the floor. Helaena is momentarily pulled away from her embroidery. You spy a pretty design of an insect crawling out of its pupa.

The both of you seem to just stare at each other for a couple of seconds. You beam down at her while she blinks up at you. Then, without another word, you sit down next to her. This seems to make her jump a little, and you make note of that, sliding away from her to give her some space. It doesn’t dampen your enthusiasm.

“Helaena?” You say her name.

A soft smile tugs on her lips. She says ‘your’ name back to you.

“Uh–” You aren’t quite sure. “I’ve been sick for a little bit after … everything, you know, but I’m all better now. Soooo-”

Some kind of glassy look overtakes her eyes. You feel like your heart slows for a moment. It’s suddenly as if she can see through you, into you – almost like Aemond.

“Coin in the waves; heads to tails; tails to heads.” Her voice is a whisper. “The true reflection is on the water.”

Something magical and hidden is woven in her words. Something makes you feel compelled. By what – you know not.

“…Oh.” I mean – what are you even supposed to say to that? “Okay.”

You two stand there in an awkward silence as you both flicker your eyes to the side. You hear Septa Lettice clear her throat behind you. It��s just like you to be so clumsy in front of a pretty girl like this.

“You want to –” Helaena looks up expectantly at you. “Do some … needlework together?”

She smiles, and you feel your heart leap up into your throat.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Helaena’s needlework is beautiful. A lovely image of two flowers sprouting together in full bloom rests gracefully on her cloth. The sound of children babbling a bit and toys clanking against the floor draws your attention away from your messy second attempt at sewing again.

Truthfully, you don’t envy Helaena being a mother already. This body’s original owner and she are the same age. Her children, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, are old enough to at least understand when you say certain words to them. Maelor is still a little young. She must have had them young, and while you know it’s a symptom of Westerosi culture, it makes you feel ill regardless. You wonder if the original Lady Durant would have found this equally as repulsive or if she would have bowed her head in acceptance? You won’t accept it, at least.

The children say ‘your’ name as soon as they see you. It’s not who you really are, but you can’t bear to do anything other than pat their heads and play along with them. You see Helaena in them when they look up at you. They’ll definitely be pretty like their mother when they grow up.

You nearly threw up when Jaquetta had informed you that Helaena’s husband was her own elder brother, Aegon. And then you nearly did it again when she told you that it was traditional for House Targaryen to marry close family relations. Sibling marriages are common, and, quite frankly, whatever magical or bloodline related reasoning they can give is not enough to justify literally any of that.

“Sooo–” Your voice disrupts the peace that’s settled in between you and Helaena. “What’s the … gossip? What’s the – What’s the new thing? Since it’s been a bit since we’ve chatted and all that?”

She gives you a momentary look before she thinks. “You’re going to marry Aemond soon.”

You suppress a groan. “Yeah, I guess you’re … happy about that. Right?”

Helaena smiles softly and you feel your heart flutter a bit. “Marriage isn’t so bad. Aemond won’t ignore you. He’ll be nice to you.”

You frown. “He’s ignoring me right now.”

“Aemond was worried about you,” she says. Your hand stops pulling the needle through the fabric. That’s the second person to tell you he was worried.

Helaena sets aside her needlework to give you her full attention. “He just … Sometimes has trouble conveying how he thinks and feels. You’ve always been very mindful of him, though.”

Yeah, the old owner of this body but not you!

“I guess so,” you say, tossing your own needlework on the cushion next to you. “Can’t say my mind is getting any better lately.”

A noise from the children takes your attention away. They’re giving a plate of biscuits being offered by their servant rather disgusted looks.

“What’s going on?” You ask.

The servant regards you with an apologetic expression. “The prince and princess have been having some difficulty eating their snacks lately.”

“They think it doesn’t taste good,” Helaena explains. “The royal kitchen has tried just about everything to please them, but nothing seems to work.”

You’ve got an idea.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They should have known you were up to something when you were being so … compliant. Way too compliant. You excel in your lessons the following two days and spend some time praying like you’re supposed to before you spend the night scribbling furiously down on some paper. You shoo away Jaquetta whenever she inquires about what you’re doing but you unveil everything one day after your lessons. You snatch the papers and gleefully make your way to the royal kitchen, your two companions in tow.

“My lady, a maiden of noble birth like yourself should not be–” Septa Lettice tries to dissuade you as you enter the kitchen with a bit of misplaced swagger but you promptly cut her off with a yell.

“Bring me your ingredients at once!”

The entire kitchen seems to freeze in space before the attendants scramble about to gather everything you wish. They assemble fruit jam, flour, honey, and anything you ask for. If being a future princess grants you this authority, you might consider being nice to Aemond in the future when you see him.

You give a sweeping gaze over the ingredients, putting your hand on your hips. “That’ll do it.”

“My lady,” Jaquetta says, “What do you plan to do?”

“Don’t worry yourself, Jackie,” you respond, washing your hand in some water and covering your hair with a napkin. “Lettie.” Septa Lettice makes a face. “Let me work my magic.”

Despite their anxious words and the annoying way they hover about you, they soon join the growing crowd of kitchen staff that watch you, entranced by your skills. It should be expected, though. Who can beat you when it comes to cooking? Even baking these jam filled cookies for the twins is a piece of cake. If the royal cooks can’t make anything that pleases them, then you definitely can.

You inspect the heat under the baking oven located some ways away from the kitchen. Your eyes trail along the metal of the oven. It shouldn’t be too time consuming to bake the cookies as long as the heat was regulated. With that over, you crack your knuckles and get to work.

You hold your hand out towards the kitchen staff. “Small knife for designing, please.”

“My lady, that is–”

You narrow your eyes. Soon, a small knife is put in your hand and you get to cutting out insect shapes of the cookie dough you prepared. You make two of each design, putting a dollop of the fruit jam mix in the middle of one cut out dough piece and then putting the other on top of it. You make sure to draw each part of the insects with precision – butterfly wings, caterpillar body, beetle legs. Something for both the children and Helaena to enjoy.

“If these are burnt by even a little bit–” You tell the servant that manages the oven, handing over the tray of cookies. You drag your thumb across your neck. “You’re dead, okay? On the future princess’ order.”

He gulps and scurries off.

You nearly trip over your own feet that afternoon when you hurry up the long staircases and through the many hallways of the Red Keep to Queen Alicent’s room. Helaena takes the children there to visit their grandmother, and you’re determined to be there to have them enjoy the treats you’d made.

“Helaena!” You call out to her in a sing-song voice as the servants open the door for you, Jaquetta following behind you with the food and Septa Lettice right behind her (nearly out of breath).

Several eyes fall on you, but any thoughts of shame are pushed aside immediately when you see him there.

You blink. “What are you doing here?”

Aemond regards you with a quick sweep of his single eye. “I came here to see my niece and nephew.”

“…” You narrow your eyes. “Okay.”

You hear Alicent let out a quick sigh before giving you a tired look that has you shrinking a bit. “I see your lessons have given you no progress.”

You flush. Something about disappointing Alicent makes you embarrassed. “No, no. They’ve been going well. I, uh–”

After clearing your throat, you straighten up as you’d been instructed and take those light steps towards Alicent and Helaena, both of whom are sitting on the couch. You give both of them a little curtsy – light like a cloud, your teachers told you. Alicent’s mouth turns upwards, her eyes are expectant. You want to roll yours. You know what she wants.

You swallow your pride and glide across the room towards Aemond, not meeting his eyes. Stopping in front of him, you give him a quick curtsy before grabbing your plate of sweets for Jaehaerys and Jaehaera. The children look up at you as you kneel down beside them.

“Look what your future auntie made you,” you say, holding out the treats for them.

“You made that?” Helaena says, reaching out a hand and plucking a spider shaped cookie.

“Yep, yep!” You nod. “You can have some too. And Her Majesty.” You don’t even bother to look at Aemond. “And His Highness too. If he wants.”

You hear him get up from his seat, the wood creaking beneath him. His boots echo through the sounds of the children munching happily on the cookies as he comes over. You lift your eyebrows in surprise and stand up. He grabs one of the cookies, a butterfly shaped one, and takes a bite.

“…You cook, my lady?” He asks.

“Huh?” You say without a thought. Oh. Right. Maybe you didn’t think about that.

“The servants told me you were in the kitchens yourself,” Alicent adds, and you can already tell this is going to be a battle with the two of them.

You bite back any mean retort you had prepared. “I … wanted to make something for my future little niece and nephew. And as far as cooking, um … “ You shrug, tripping over your words for a moment. “My illness unlocked a new, creative side to me. Like sunshine after the storm.”

Alicent and Aemond look at you like you’ve lost your mind.

Helaena smiles widely. “That’s wonderful. I look forward to what else you will make.”

You smile back at her, showing teeth. Alicent looks ready to protest but you cut her off.

“I’ll make something for Aemond.” The words tumble out of your mouth before you can even stop yourself. You look up at him and into his eye, something burning inside you. That same kind of passion that kept you going throughout your life. “Something you’ve never had before.”

“That…” Alicent trails off.

“I look forward to it,” Aemond says.

You don’t know why, but you feel taken off guard by that.

You don’t know why but you toss and turn at night, thinking of what Aemond would enjoy. Food is the way to someone’s soul. You’re not that interested in getting to know Aemond beyond the superficial, but you figured if there’s anyone you need to NOT hate you … it would be Aemond. You don’t care what Helaena or Jaquetta has to say, that kid looks like he could sink a sword in you without so much as breaking a sweat. Besides, it got you out of having to appeal to Alicent to let you in the kitchens again.

You’re not getting out of this marriage. The thought makes you want to sink into the bed and into the darkness even more. Marriage? In this place? Your husband is going to tell you what to do? Why couldn’t you have been sent into the body of a rich widow? Then you’d at least have some money to throw around with no one to tell you what to do with it.

But what are you to cook him? Aside from what others have said to you, you’ve no idea what he likes, and you’d already promised him something new. You use your brain to go through what you know.

“Fighter,” you mumble. “Diligent … Something filling, but not too heavy.”

Perhaps a broth. A broth that’s full of flavor, savory like a victory. With some kick in it. A robust flavor on the tongue with some spices and herbs.

Your eyes pop open as you sit up.

“…Ramen.”

#taoc.#aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #slight helaena targaryen x reader #reader is bi and is in love with helaena right now let them have this #pt. 3 we are turning aemond targaryen into a cup ramen lover !!!!

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sylacris · 1 year ago

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— “rather melodramatic, aren’t you?”

alternatively: “always your heart will be aching for my presence. You will see the moon, and it’ll remind you of me, of us, of what we used to be and could’ve been” / you were tasked to kill dazai osamu and yet…

dazai osamu x gn! reader

content: mild angst, smoking, a gun, dazai-typical suicide mentions, may be ooc, not proofread. inspired by: dangerously yours episode 1: masquerade.

wc: 1.5k words

a/n: nothing beats coming back to tumblr just to drop something i wrote on a whim. will i be consistently posting? if my motivation doesn't go away -v-

Dazai Osamu knew his past would catch up to him one day.

Not only associating, but being a high-ranking official in the Port Mafia is a time in his life that he not only refuses to come back to but perhaps even actively haunts him incessantly in those dark drunken nights and smoke-filled lungs. On those nights alone, he only has the company of sake bottles and memories of the past—both good and bad.

He knows that he'll never be a good person—not what Odasaku wanted him to be, at least—yet he tries; he always has been trying.

But there comes a time when it seems as if trying isn't enough and repentance will be the only solution—perhaps even his death would be worth more good than all of the good he's done combined.

And repentance he shall receive as his lover stands right in front of him with a cold glare that exudes such burning rage, an anger that could've made him falter even the slightest if only he wasn't looking forward to such a death in the back of his mind.

With a smirk that never seemed to disappear, Dazai reaches out of his pocket, making them raise their guard with a glare and a finger on the trigger. "Mind if I have a smoke?" He doesn't even wait for a reply before pulling out the cigarette and lighter from his pockets.

"You can do anything you please, Dazai," you grunt.

Dazai puts the cigarette between his lips; he really is so carefree, even in the face of an enemy, though perhaps he sees you less as an enemy and still as his love.

Glaring at the unfazed man that stood before you, you sighed. This was for your people; kill the demon prodigy; that was your assignment. There was no way you were going to back down after months of getting to this point.

"But that doesn't mean I won't finish my mission here once and for all. You won't get away this time, demon prodigy."

After hearing his former title in the mafia, Dazai's eyes seem to darken, and there is a slight furrow in his eyebrows before he composes himself once more.

He lights the cigarette, inhaling the smoke before puffing it out. With a sigh, the man looks at you, ever so calm, even at gunpoint. and states in a matter-of-fact tone, "You can't pull the trigger, Bella." You knew he could always perceive you like an open book; it was something he could always do.

"You can't pull it because you love me," he says, looking at you directly.

"Isn't that why you're taking your sweet time?" Dazai lightly taunted, taking another swing at the cigarette before throwing it to the ground.

"Who said I ever loved you to begin with?" you defended.

He took a step forward, placing his hands inside the pockets of his pants. "So all the times we spent together were nothing to you, Belladonna?" he frowned, yet something in his tone made you think he was looking down on you—or rather, almost not taking this situation as seriously as you are.

"Of course it was; that would be obvious to you already, no?" you bite back, yet Dazai had such audacity to only smile at your hostility. which ignited your anger even more: "I never loved you, and you never loved me; I know you were just using me; you deceived me; don't give me your pitiful excuses, Dazai."

Another step forward, and you backed away. "I never loved you?" He repeats what you said, almost as if he's stopping himself from laughing at your statement, as if you said something so horribly inaccurate that Dazai merely perceives it as a joke.

"I mean exactly what I said," you replied, only earning a chuckle from the man.

"You say I never loved you, yet you are the only person I've ever wholly entrusted my heart to; you say I never loved you when even though I knew about this plot of yours, I still stuck around." As each second passes, Dazai moves closer to you, which makes you alarmed, only gripping the gun harder than it should be, knuckles almost turning white.

You warned, "Stay back!"

Yet Dazai's brave; he knows how to get what he wants, and he wanted you.

"Don't you wonder what was going on in my mind every time we were together, knowing you had ulterior motives to get closer to me, yet I still accepted you wholly, for what can i do when what my brain says is not what my heart wanted to follow?" Dazai sighs, shaking his head.

"I don't care; I don't care about you! Everything I've worked hard for has led up to this; don't try and stop me, Dazai." Empty threats leave your mouth as Dazai seems to ignore your mild distress.

"Oh Bella. If only you knew just how much of a fumbling mess you've made me. You took my heart, yet I would gladly let you take more of me as you pleased. You've made a fool out of me, yet I'd play the jester in your story if it meant it would satisfy you."

"You tricked me into loving you!" you shouted through gritted teeth and a clenched fist, not thinking properly in your state as your eyes whip around to find something, anything, perhaps an escape route but

"Were you not the one who approached me with the intention of stealing my heart?" Dazai retorts. He always knew how to keep your eyes on him, and now that the gap between the two of you is gone, it almost feels like you are suffocating from how close he is and how much adrenaline is in your veins.

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

"My, Bella, if you were resolute on doing this then you would've shot me minutes ago. But look at where we are now. A point blank shot yet no bullets being fired at me," Dazai teases, placing his hand on top of the gun you held up, "quite a situation we have here, yes?"

You remained silent, dropping the gun on the floor as your hands shake from how hard you've clenched them, carving moons on your palms as you avoid Dazai's eyes, sorting your mind. You needed to kill him; that was what you'd been working for for so long. However, in a few words and touches, he already had you around his finger yet again.

And God, was it so annoying.

"You're so still; your face is like ice—what are you thinking?" He's gotten close enough to where he reaches to cup your face, as your shaky hands really couldn't muster the courage to shoot him as he says.

A held exhale leaves you: "What does anything you have to say matter, Dazai?" You bit your tongue before looking down: "If I fail now, everything that I've worked for and everything that I've been raised to do up until now would be… useless." You mutter as he merely observes you.

"What can a breaking heart do if it is left to choose between what it has known for so long and what it wants to love now?"

Dazai smiles at you with pity as he traces your jawline before tilting your head up to meet his eyes. They looked at you as if you were the night sky. Dazai has always given you such a soft look in your time together, directed only at you, and you would be lying if you said your stomach wasn't filled with butterflies—though whether it's from the adrenaline or from his lovelorn acts, you'd never know.

"Well, then I'll give you a choice, darling," Dazai starts.

"Shoot me and complete your mission. No one has to know of this ordeal, and you get to leave scot-free back to your organization." He pauses.

"However, when the time comes, you will find moonlit nights strangely empty because, when you call my name through them, there will be no answer. Always, your heart will be aching for my presence. You will see the moon, and it'll remind you of me, of us, of what we used to be and could've been."

"I don't-"

"Shh, I'm not done yet, Bella," he lightly warns, placing his index finger on his lips and chuckling before continuing on.

"Or, you could choose to follow me, stay as my lover, and join the Armed Detective Agency. If anyone from where you came from looks for you, we will do everything in our power to protect you. You have been interested in what we do in the agency; not only that, you are an ability user too, no?"

You gulped, biting on the inside of your cheeks as you pursed your lips at his question before giving an answer: "Yes, both of those are correct."

Dazai gives you a closed-eye smile and says, "Your eyes would have such a shine in them whenever I talked about the agency on our little dates. I bet they'd like you."

Your thoughts couldn't help but imagine what it would be like with the agency. You lightly smile at such a statement, and if Dazai picked up on it, which you assume he did, which he always does, unsurprisingly, he chose not to comment on it.

"So, Belladonna, what will your choice be?"

#☁️ aes’ musings #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #dazai osamu x reader #dazai x reader #osamu dazai x reader #dazai x you

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writingsbymo-mo · 1 year ago

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Debt Repaid

Bonten!Sanzu x F!Reader

Rating: mature

Contains: past abuse, abusive parents (past), violence, guns, blood, minor character death, depression, some comfort, some angst

Summary: You recently got fired from one of your jobs, you're short on rent, and now you're being kicked out? What the hell went wrong? Or, what the hell went right?

Note: reader is addressed with she/her pronouns when being referred to...and Sanzu might be a tad ooc at times 😅

Hope you enjoy 💕 @shoyo-ryoko

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

*knock* *knock* *knock*

"Hey 207, you better pay up, or you'll be kicked by the end of the week!" Your landlord screamed from behind the door to your apartment.

With a shaky breath, you opened the door, attempting to conceal the tremnling in your body and voice. "I-I'm sorry sir...but I'm a hundred short..." You flinched as he slammed his fist against the doorframe. "Goddamn it. You fucking can't even get that much? Stupid bitch, I even delayed your payment a week!"

You shrank in on yourself, looking at the floor as tears spilled from your eyes. You couldn't help that you got fired from your better paying job. All those customer interactions spiraled into episodes of dread that engulfed your entire being, wanting nothing more than to escape. They'd sneer at your failures, your weaknesses, or at least that's what your mind perceived. And one day, you just couldn't take it anymore.

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

You stayed in your apartment, never leaving your bed unless the bathroom was calling you. You couldn't bring yourself to eat either. The churning hunger pains brought nausea upon you. A day later, you heard a knock on your door. You stared over to the window by the entrance with your eyes cracked, silently pleading for whomever was there would give up and leave. You didn't want anyone to see you like this.

"Please...go away..." You croaked.

The door unlocked and slammed open. You covered your eyes, blinded by the rays from the afternoon sun. "Ah—"

"Princess?"

You knew that voice. "H-Haru..."

The floor creaked as he made his way to your room, kneeling down beside your bed. He grasped your hands, pulling them away from your face. "W-wait Haru!" But you had no strength to stop him. He sighed the moment he saw your bloodshot eyes and dark circles surrounding them. You weren't sleeping well if at all some days.

You squeezed your eyes shut, body trembling in his soft grasp. "Please...don't look at me..." Tears leaked from the corners of your eyes once more. The dread of him seeing you at your lowest hit you like a ton of bricks. You wanted to run away right then. Your heart pounded in your chest.

"Shhh, it's alright, darling," he leaned down, tenderly kissing your hot tears away. "Just breathe with me." And you did. Deep inhales and exhales, shaky to smooth as you relaxed under his touch. He removed your covers and slid his hands underneath you, picking you up with ease. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up. I'll get us some cheesecake."

"O-ok."

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

"I'm sick of your shit 207. Can't make even another hundred more in a week? Ha! Better not see your ass here in the morning, you pathetic piece of shit. Oh, and all your things left behind are now mine. Think of it as paying me for what you owe, ha-haaaa!"

The disgusting laugh of his tapered off as you slid against the door. "W-where did I go wrong....why am I like this?"

Where would you go? You were kicked out of the house the day you started dating Haru all those years ago. Your parents couldn't believe their precious daughter would date a delinquent, let alone one who had a record like his.

Your parents were gone for the weekend or that's what they told you anyway. You stayed out all night with Haruchiyo, traveling the streets of Tokyo on his bike and having the time of your lives. Any day like this could beat when you had to be the perfect daughter day in and day out.

You have to be number one! If you don't, you'll be sorry.

The nonstop pressure, the amount of times they'd punish you for a wrong answer, the times they wouldn't even bother addressing you whenever your grades kept falling. All they cared about was your abilities to do well in school.

They never bothered asking how you were doing, Haru did.

They never bothered to spend time with you, Haru did.

They never even knew you were dating until you were caught by some people your dad worked with....didn't help with all the hickeys on your collarbone that peeked from under your shirt.

"How dare you! HOW DARE YOU RUIN THIS FAMILY!"

*SLAP*

You collapsed on the ground from the impact, touching your angry red, stinging cheek.

"Fucking a delinquent? Have you gone MAD?!! Swear if my coworkers hadn't caught you sleazing around with that...that—"

"But dad I—"

"SHUT IT! You're no daughter of mine...not anymore..."

"W-wait...dad no...NO!" You screamed, bawling with tears falling from your eyes. He yanked you by the back of your shirt collar, dragging you towards the front door with ease. "If you want to be a delinquent's girlfriend, then fine! I'll just treat you like you are, trash!" He threw you out the door. Your back collided against the concrete wall so hard you coughed out a pained gasp upon impact. "Don't ever think to show your face here again!" He growled and slammed the door shut.

You didn't know what to think. You didn't know what to say about this. All you were was a shell of pain. You brought your knees into yourself, burying your face into them as you continued to let the tears fall. "H-Haru..."

The front door opened so quietly that you didn't even hear it over the noise in your mind. You looked up the moment a hand tapped your shoulder. There stood your mother, eyes bloodshot with tears. She sniffed, "I'm sorry...take this." She handed you a suitcase full of your clothes, necessities, and some of your other things along with a stack of cash. "It's not much, but it's the least I could do. Take care of yourself, ok?"

That was the last time you ever saw them. And for once in your life, you were happy...for a little while. When Haruchiyo found out about you being kicked out, he was pissed. He would've stormed over there to kill your parents if you hadn't held him so tightly, pleading for him to stop. You were one of the very few people he held dearly to him and the few he would listen to. He did make the offer for you to stay with him, however, you were already moving into an apartment. On your low days, you wondered how different it would've been to live with him instead.

Much changed over time. You dropped out of school and took on a few jobs to pay rent. You were still dating Haruchiyo, however it was getting harder to see him within the last few years. He mentioned something about being in a top position and taking trips more frequently. You were thankful for all the times he'd helped you through the tears, your ups and downs, the times you couldn't lift a finger. No matter, he would always help you whenever he could.

And now, you were on the run again. You packed as much as you could and left your old apartment in the middle of the night. "Fuck you, shitty landlord..." You dragged your things with you for quite a distance when it began to rain. As fast as your feet could take you, you hid under the awning of a shrine nearby. Your body shivered, completely drenched. You hid inside to change into something dry and made a place for you to sleep. "I'll call you in the morning Haru...just want to sleep..."

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*SLAM*

"WHERE IS SHE, HYUGA?!!"

"I-I swear, I-I don't know! She just turned her keys in the dropbox and left!" Hyuga, your old landlord cried, coughing up blood. He was battered and bruised, lips split and bleeding, staining his crisp white shirt. "She didn't make rent this month, I had to do something to pay it off!"

Sanzu yanked him by the collar, glaring daggers into his very soul as he was brought to his eye level. "So, you thought you could make off with selling my darling's possessions to make a quick buck? Disgusting," he growled.

Hyuga grasped at Sanzu's hands, gasping for a breath. "I-I swear I didn't know she was one of Bonten's—" He gasped for air as he was thrown against the desk. Stacks of paper scattered everywhere when a reverberating click pierced the room into silence. Sanzu held his gun pointed directly between Hyuga's brow as he ran his other hand through his pink locks with a crazed expression. "Consider your debt paid off, scum of the earth!" He laughed hysterically as shots fired into the man's skull, blood splattering the walls and desk behind him. He sighed with a smile when the work was done. He cleaned his hands and pulled out his burner phone. "Send someone to my location for a cleanup and find someone he's close to we can drop this dept on. What do you mean why did I kill him?! Ah fuck you too Koko!" *click*

"Now, where did you go, princess?"

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A couple hours later, you woke up to a set of warm arms wrapped around you with a familiar sweet musk. You cracked your eyes open. "H-Haru?"

"Shhhh, I'm taking you to my place, just rest," he whispered, smiling softly at him. You reached his towards his face, tracing the outline of his scar on the left side. "I don't want to burden you—"

"Don't! You're not a burden. You never were, princess."

You sighed, letting yourself relax in his hold, baggage and all. "You're always there to save me," you nuzzled into his chest, "please take care of me."

"I will, darling. I will."

And just like he promised, he took care of you through thick and thin. You wouldn't have asked for anything else.

#somehow i think it worked 😅#bonten!sanzu x reader #bonten #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #sanzu haruchiyo #sanzu x reader #haruchiyo sanzu x reader #haruchiyo x reader #sanzu haruchiyo x reader #haruchiyo sanzu #tok rev #tokyo revengers fanfiction #it's bonten sanzu so of course there will be blood somewhere 😅#tokyo revengers sanzu #tokyo revengers scenarios #bonten sanzu

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