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drgngutz · 8 months ago

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2 - Coast - Luffy x f!soulmate!reader

Chapter Two

Taglist: @mystic60 , @louisechec , @pinksh1t

(I took the liberty of tagging those who commented their interest on the first post, if you'd like to be removed in future postings, lmk!)

Here's the next part! I'm gonna try and zoom to post all the chapters I've made so far from wattpad to here.

Happy reading!

With an arm thrown across my eyes, I sighed deeply through my nose and listened to the ship creak as it rocked back and forth in the waves. I was hoping desperately that I wouldn't get seasick, having never actually been on a boat before, and the nerves probably weren't helping with the queasiness.

The cute little creature, Chopper, had condemned me to what was the women's quarters for the time being. He claimed I needed the rest, some time to adjust on my own after being thrown into the situation so suddenly. No wonder he was the ship's doctor; he was right. It took a long while, several hours in fact, before the shock finally wore off and I could somewhat come to terms with things. It was nearly sundown at this point.

To summarize, I wasn't home anymore and instead found myself in a world I am entirely unfamiliar with, which wasn't great. The positive was that I found Luffy, my soulmate; who was the Captain of his crew, who had expressed that they would help me get acclimated and I was free to stay with them and join the crew myself. A part of me wondered if the reason they were so friendly was because I was their Captain's soulmate; maybe, in truth, they were annoyed at the sudden strangers appearance but didn't have another choice but to accept her... Even if it did seem like Luffy didn't even want me in the first place.

I frowned, feeling the pit in my stomach drop deeper. Out of all the things I'd imagined I would feel when we met, being disappointed wasn't one of them.

Maybe I had just hyped it up for myself too much; held too many expectations. I mean, he did... technically call me cute, right? I felt my face warm at the memory, even if it was a brief one. The whiplash of emotions made my stomach twirl uncomfortably.

Right. Trying not to get queasy - Don't think about that now.

Okay; So there were negatives, and there were positives, just like in every situation. Maybe I could just make the most out of the positives.

I kept repeating that like a mantra as I decidedly reached for the doorknob, trying to steel my nerves; hopefully I wouldn't be thrown around by the waves again, it was embarrassing enough the first time.

Creeping through the hammocks and trying to be careful to not trip over the floorboards, I found the same ladder that Chopper had led me down before, and began my ascension to the deck. The cool breeze caused a rush of goosebumps to flee down my back, much different from the heat from earlier; more refreshing, in a way. Taking a deep inhale of the fresh, salty air, I brought myself fully out onto the lower deck, looking for a familiar face. Robin and Nami were the quickest to notice me, and waved me over to them as they leaned over the white railing of the second deck. I obliged, keeping a wary eye out for a certain straw hat while I climbed the stairs.

"Hey, you're finally out!" Nami greeted me with a kind smile, and I felt my own smile reciprocate, though it felt a bit awkward.

"Are you feeling any better?" She continued.

"Yeah, a bit." I nodded, still feeling stiff and glancing between the two women who stared at me expectantly, realizing they wanted me to continue.

"I-I think that maybe I just need some more time to adjust..." I gestured to the ocean and the boat around us, pausing to let my gaze linger distantly, before coming back to the real world.

"A lot more time, actually. But, I got most of the thinking out of the way, at least. Come to terms with everything, I mean..." I finished. Robin hummed, affirming that she understood what I meant, and Nami nodded with a thoughtful, upturned look.

"Right, we didn't expect you to get used to things so quickly, anyways." The red head shrugged once she was finished with her inner debate, a bright grin flashing on her face.

"Still, you should let us know if we can help in any way! You're gonna' be one of us now, after all!" She seemed really excited about the idea, and my heart warmed a little at the thought; beginning to shrug away the earlier thoughts of them disliking me. Belonging somewhere was something I was always missing, and this group was seemingly welcoming me with open arms.

Only because you're their captain's soulmate.

I deflated a bit. Best not to get my hopes too high. It always ends the same way, anyways.

Speaking of the Captain, he came reeling around the corner on the lower deck with an energy that could only match that of the little ones back at the orphanage; he was closely followed by Usopp and Chopper, who looked pissed as he cackled and fled from them.

Watching their interaction, I couldn't help but watch Luffy like a hawk. He was cute, definitely. There was no doubt in my mind about that part, watching the apple of his cheek raise the crescent scar as his eyes crinkled, running circles around the sails post as the other two wildly gave chase. He just seemed like an all-around, fun person. Cheerful and bright. I wondered why I felt so opposite in that respect; gloomy and bland. Maybe that's why he didn't seem to like me at first? Was I too different?

"Don't be so down." Robin's smooth voice comforted me, matching my gaze with a knowing tease in her blue eyes, followed by a comforting grin. I sighed through my nose, shoulders drooping as I turned to glance at Nami who's smile I could see from the corner of my eyes. Nervous at the attention, I looked back at Luffy.

"...I guess I can't help it." I furrowed my eyebrows, feeling frustrated and confused. Robin nods, and Nami stays silent, choosing to listen before she could advise, I assumed. But, I didn't say anything after that.

"I'm guessing where you come from soulmates are considered normalized, frequent even. I can see it on your face and in your reactions." I blinked in surprise, looking at her from the side, and she shot me another smile.

"Besides," I turned to listen to Nami's knowing tone, "Even if soulmates were common here, Luffy is a bit of an oddball. Try not to mind him too much." She finished, shaking her head with a huff. Something told me that she had put up with him being such an 'oddball' for a while now.

"...Are soulmates uncommon here?" I asked, albeit hesitantly, feeling like I already knew the answer anyway.

"Very." Said Nami.

"She's correct. Soulmates are known to only appear once every few years, and are more commonly found on highly populated islands," I listened intently, trying to wrap my head around how the world worked here.

"In fact, it's so rare that people don't often choose to dedicate themselves to look for their soulmates. Most commonly they just don't have the time or resources to do it. Many can go without finding their soulmates for their whole lives; but when they do, it's a very celebrated and special occasion, and the government even has a few laws implemented for soulmates." I listened intently as Robin recited the facts like she was reading straight out of a book, awed that she was so knowledgeable and fluent.

"However, I do agree that the Captain is an odd one." That last sentence was like a slap to the face, "You're definitely going to have your hands full with him!" She teased, laughing as Nami snickered in the background.

"Oh," I uttered dumbly, finding myself trailing my disheartened gaze back to the boy as he taunted Chopper on being so short, "Um, okay. I'll take your word for it."

It's not like the two of them seemed wrong, anyway. He was behaving very strangely... and it still bothered me that he wasn't as attentive to me as I was to him, so far. He hadn't even noticed that I had been staring at him for the majority of this little chat.

"What about you?" Nami said, tilting her head curiously, "Where you came from, I mean. I'm curious how soulmates work there."

I tilted my head back at her, pursing my lips before looking back over the ledge and wondering where would be best to start.

"Back where I come from," I finally began, in order to ease the growing silence, "Practically everyone has a soulmate; it's hard to find somebody without one."

I paused before continuing, turning to gauge their reactions. They were both still listening with a neutral gaze, blinking ardently for me to continue.

"The people born without one are labeled unlucky, and those who do have soulmates have varying methods of finding them. Names, initials, first words, a red string, a patch of their soulmates favorite color on their skin, timers, writing on the skin, same tattoos--" I cut myself off, realizing I was rambling as Nami laughed and told me to 'slow down a second, will ya?' Turning pink, I apologized and continued.

"Y-You get the picture. There were a lot of people with soulmates, and a lot of ways to find them. For me, I did everything I could to find mine; searched the internet, attended conventions, you name it. Nobody had something that matched me..." They looked at me quizzically from some of the things I said, and I had to wonder if they had the internet in this world. I hadn't seen a single phone anywhere.

"Almost everyone I knew had already found their soulmates, and, I guess I got desperate to have someone like that. The pressure was really high for me, since I was already over the average age where people met their soulmate and... I just... thought that maybe he would be a little more excited to see me." I ended softly, picking at the white paint with my fingernails as I watched Luffy flick Chopper in the forehead, who launched at the boy in retaliation. Usopp was shouting for Chopper to win the scuffle in the background.

Both Robin and Nami were still looking at me, I could see them from the corner of my eye; but I felt instant regret, not wanting to look back at them and see any pity on their faces. I hadn't meant to make them feel bad, but I guess I shouldn't have told them so much if I didn't want pity.

I didn't know it at the time, but the both of them had a moment of understanding with each other in our shared silence. Not one of pity, but of hilarity. Slowly, Nami started laughing, and Robin grinned.

"Is that what you're so worried about?" The red head giggled, and I turned in disbelief, a little upset that they were laughing at me; I didn't get to put in my two cents, she was interrupting me before I could speak.

"Um, yeah he's excited to see you?" She stated like I was crazy, "He nearly busted down the door to our room after Chopper told him he couldn't go in, you dummy!" Nami hadn't stopped laughing, still cheery in her words.

"That's correct. Didn't you see him peeking through the window? He was trying for around an hour before he finally gave up." Robin agreed wholeheartedly, and I felt elated. Not too much though, I don't want to get my hopes up.

"So... He might actually like me?"

Nami wheezed out another laugh, and Robin shook her head fondly. For some reason, it felt like I was so familiar with these people already. We were chatting like a couple of siblings; the two older trying to teach the younger.

"Of course he likes you! That much is obvious, come on." The redhead's words had me blushing a light pink, huffing through my lips and turning to face the boy again for some sort of distraction.

To my shock, he was already looking at me. His facial expression matched my own; looking as if he had stopped dead in the games he was playing, mouth hung open with widened eyes as he blinked in confusion. We held eye contact for a moment, and I watched him trail his eyes over my face just slightly, before they snapped back to my own. The minor movement sent a trail of pleasant shivers up my spine; such a small action had such a big impact, now.

When the moment caught up to him, a wild grin popped onto his face.

The sound of rubber interrupts the otherwise simmering moment as he whips his arms forward and attaches them to the handrail before me. Backing up, I can only intercept a small 'what' in response to seeing his arms stretch so far, confusion and horror overtaking whatever else I was feeling in the moment before. I heard Nami snicker as the two girls walked away, and I wanted to curse at her for not warning me of whatever this was. Although... maybe they had.

When he finally pulled himself up to the second level, he had landed crouched with his feet on the railing like a monkey (fitting, for his name), and leaned in close to me. My breath stuttered at the feeling of his breath on my cheeks, head tilted up to look at him in his position.

"Hey! You left the room!" He giggled excitedly, "You feel better, right? That means we can talk now!"

"U-Um. Hi." I stuttered out stupidly, suddenly feeling shy against his sparkling personality as my face flushes pink once again.

"Hi!" He mimics, coming down from the railing, now standing and having to look down at me from his taller height. I hadn't noticed that before. The fact made my stomach buzz, for some reason.

"Oh, uh. I feel a little better. S-So, we can talk, yeah."

"Awesome!" He puts his hands on his hips, grinning triumphantly, "My brother told me that when I met my soulmate we should talk, and do some other stuff, too; I can't remember what it was, though. What should we talk about?"

I was still buffering from the previous event of seeing his body being warped like it was; that, combined with his sudden closeness, seemed to make me short circuit and I said the first thought that popped into my head.

"You... Y-You're... Stretchy?" The confusion was obvious in my reluctance to ask the question, trying not to sound dumb in front of my soulmate, but not sure how else to get an answer for something like that. At this point, I was accepting everything and anything under the sun in this place after being teleported here. He was... certainly an oddball, in the wise Robin's words. Could people normally move like that here?

"Well, yeah. I'm a rubber man." He answered like it was the simplest, most known thing in the world. Like it was weird for me to ask in the first place, which I was trying to avoid.

"...Oh." I bit my lip, looking away from him for a second, before trying to find a proper answer.

"How... Does it work?" Shuffling my feet so I could create some space between the two of us, finding it hard to look him in the eyes, "I don't understand what you mean, sorry."

"You're really weird!" He laughs so hard, like I had said the funniest joke in the world, and my face is probably the color of a beet from the embarrassment. He thinks I'm weird.

"I ate a devil-fruit, the Gum-Gum fruit!"

"D-Devil fruit?" I begin to feel myself deflate, but try to stay positive as I want the heat to leave my face, "What's a devil fruit?"

He cocks his head with his eyebrows furrowed, no longer smiling. It's a little intimidating, and I shrink back into myself on instinct. I'm not sure if he picks up on it but he crosses his arms.

"You don't know what a devil fruit is?" He asks, a bit judgmentally. Or at least, that's how it sounds to me.

"U-Um, no. I'm sorry. I don't think I've ever heard of it before." I shake my head, a little too desperately maybe, and he frowns harder.

"That's weird. Where are you from, anyways?" His brows furrow, and he crinkles his nose with a thinking face. A genuine question, probably, but I couldn't help but feel he was disapproving of me or something. Maybe he was hoping I would have one of these 'devil fruit' things, and I definitely didn't have one.

It was at this point I just wanted to run away from him, go back to the girls room, and lay in bed until I passed out. If I could even sleep after this. I had forgotten momentarily that he hadn't listened to a word about how I got here in the first place, and simultaneously reminded that he also probably didn't care much about it either.

Before I can say anything else, feeling myself gape like a fish as the words won't form properly, he comes closer and grabs the hand that I was subconsciously fiddling with in my nervousness. In reflex, I snap my hand back to myself and take a step back, feeling the warmth that emanated from his hand disappear as soon as it was there.

He blinks, as if surprised at my actions, before speaking.

"Why'd you pull away?" A beat of silence when I can't respond, frozen by my own reaction, "You don't look like a pirate or a marine, you're too small and skinny. You don't have any scars or tattoos or anything."

He closes his eyes, seemingly thinking to himself; it sounded like he was pointing out all of my flaws, for some reason. What was this? Was he trying to be mean? Saying that I wasn't good enough? I wanted to throw up.

"N-No, I'm sorry, I'm not any of those. I was a student before I came here." He perks up with a surprised grunt at my words, and I have to lean back as he gets close again, feeling my stomach flutter at the devious smile laid on his face.

"School? You must be rich, then!" Shaking my head at the words, I quickly wave my hands in front of me to deny his claim so he doesn't get the wrong idea.

"N-No, I'm not. Everyone goes to school where I'm from." The disappointment on his face probably reflects in my own, and he stands up straight again. Shit, I should've just lied and said I was rich. He wouldn't have known either way, right?

"Aw, man. That's weird. Everyone I know who goes to school is rich." Silence ensues.

Weird. The word is bumping around in my head like the DVD screen. I make a last ditch effort to change the subject and maybe find some semblance of relief for myself in this conversation.

"So... You're a pirate, right?" I twist my fingers, looking up at him from under my lashes, too scared to give him my full attention.

"You bet!" He exclaims, leaning back down toward me after meeting my gaze, and I can't find a way out this time when I feel my back brush against the wall behind me. Now, I'm beginning to get flustered all over again.

Damn this whirlwind of a conversation.

"I'm the Captain of the crew, the Straw Hat Pirates, and the Going Merry! That's our boat." He chuckles, before tilting his head endearingly, scanning my face again as if he's searching for something. I feel my heart stop, the pitch black coals feel like they're searing into my skin. The seconds are drawn into minutes, analyzing every part of those pretty obsidian hues.

And those pretty hues are looking at me; analyzing me, too.

"And when I find The One Piece, I'm gonna be the The King of the Pirates!" He's leaning back, nose upturned in what seems like satisfaction, and I let the breath I was holding out of my nose in relief. Then, he's pointing at me.

"I guess that means you're gonna' be The Queen of the Pirates, right?"

I feel my face burning for the umpteenth time since the start of this five minute conversation, not sure where to look as the grin on his face grows to an exuberant smile, and I panic and stutter.

"I knew it. You do like me!" He cackles.

Chapter Three

#luffy #luffy x reader #monkey d. luffy #one piece #one piece luffy #monkey d luffy

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krashlite · 3 months ago

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Moral Compass designs!

"Krash wtf are you talking about." Moral Compass - Lillian VanDaam is a story album about a sailor that jumped overboard for a siren, abandoning their crew. It's!! Sososososososo good, and I might be a little crazy about it for a minute

design notes under the break!

Sailor

Overall theme is White Whale ("I knew I was the seasick type, a white whale I'm not prepared to fight" w/ the whale being their insecurities)

White in their hair is from the salty water, from leaning into the waves too many times (like surfer hair). They use it to hide the grey hairs they got from the stress of being on the ship.

whale bone necklace! It's carved to look like a mermaid tail.

seafoam green eyes

pearl engagement ring (haven't decided if the "ship" is staying a metaphor and they're with the captain, or if the "ship" is a literal person)

Compass on belt (points towards the Siren)

They get stubble because I say they get a lil extra gender as a treat

Very plain clothes.

Overall, I tried to make their design not stick out that much because they're mostly going with what the crew is doing and disregarding their own emotions/motivations

Siren

She's a thresher shark! ("a shark has never looked so enticing"). She does have a fin on her back, but it isn't visible with this pose.

For her human half, her face/body type is meant to resemble the beauty standard in the renaissance/in famous portraits from that time period. As in, she's impossibly beautiful for the situation she's found in

The ruffles on her outfit are supposed to look like fins, but I don't know if I pulled that off OTL

Her irises aren't brown!! They're white, with her iris/pupil being in a slit shape and her sclera being that brown color. She can mimic that blown-out pupil look by looking in the opposite direction (like she's doing here)

Her actual mouth is under her "chin" (you can see it a bit here, the shark teeth)

She isn't wearing makeup! That's her actual skin/scales

Overall, she's meant to be a very convincing mimic, while still being of The Sea with her more unnatural/monstrous traits.

#moral compass #moral compass album #these tags might be just for me but thats ok ill be crazy in my little corner #I've decided it's toxic yuri and I need to draw them more #and design the captain/crew but once I don't have a mountain of hw lol #krash art

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thedreamlessnights · 8 months ago

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A Beautiful View

This is my second fic for @bg3-apprecimaytion, featuring the prompts injured and dancing. I couldn't resist writing a fic for Pirate!Astarion from Salt the earth behind you, written by the wonderful @larvasmoon! This fic truly changed my brain chemistry - it's just amazing, and I cannot recommend it enough! I wanted to tell a story about what Beatrice and Astarion might look like, living a life on the sea ♥

Margot, you lovely soul, you are so, so talented! I hope you enjoy this fic, and I can't wait to see more of your incredible writing!

AO3 Link

Warnings: Mentions of blood, injury, and death (pirate-typical). Explicit sexual content, including penetrative sex.

In the mornings, when light was just beginning to shine up from the horizon, Beatrice liked to go onto the Moon Raider’s deck and watch the sunrise.

There was something hypnotizing about the sight – the rosy shades of the sky that overtook the deep velvet of night. Twinkling stars that slowly faded away, replaced by an array of colors shining in the distant clouds.

When she first crept over to her usual spot on the stern, waving hello to whoever was tasked with keeping watch, she would play a little game with herself – guessing which colors she would see that day, and what the clouds would look like.

Some mornings, the sky started off as red as blood, fading away into cerulean as the aureate rays of daylight came about. Others were canvases of gold, coral, and violet, melding together and reflecting on the surface of the glittering sea.

Most days, she guessed wrong, but she never truly minded. The surprise was part of the fun, and the sky was ever-changing.

In those moments, with the salty air of the sea in her lungs, and the quiet rolling of the waves against the ship, she felt truly free. The start of each day was a reminder of her new life, away from the dingy taverns and streets of Athkatla, and the hours of working herself down to the bone.

She’d spent so much of her life being sensible, being cautious. Turning herself away from the danger she so badly craved. Now that she was here, no longer holding herself back, it was exhilarating, but also frightening. Familiar and new, all at once.

Today, she woke at her usual time, lost in the warmth of her blanket and the pleasantries of her fading dreams. Astarion lay beside her, still trancing, so she tried her best to keep her movements quiet as she grabbed a thick covering and crept up to the deck. The mornings were getting colder these days – the air was crisp and bitter, but it felt nice to breathe in, invigorating her as she blinked away the last dregs of sleep.

Karlach was the one on watch, and she gave Beatrice a merry wave when she caught sight of her, grinning down from the crow’s nest. Beatrice smiled and waved back, making her way over to her seat on the stern. The ocean was calm, for which her seasickness was very grateful.

Even though the crew had eventually come together to give her a remedy in the form of an amulet that she constantly wore around her neck, there was still an uncomfortable uneasiness that settled in her limbs when the waves were fierce. Peaceful days were much preferred.

Pink, today, she guessed, settling herself in. Pink and purple. Feathery clouds.

Leaning back, she pulled her covering tighter around her shoulders and waited.

It didn’t take long.

The sky lightened. The stars vanished one by one. Then, just as her cheeks had begun to flush in the morning chill, the sun inched above the sea, casting color over the horizon.

Ruby-orange. There wasn’t a cloud in sight, and sunlight spilled onto the smooth sea like molten gold, shimmering in the water. It was beautiful, like always, and she closed her eyes and allowed the light to envelop her – warming her from the tips of her pointy ears down to her toes.

Once she was well and truly warmed, she crept back down to Astarion’s cabin and into bed once again, tucking herself under the blanket.

This time, he stirred at the feel of her, pulling her into him and sighing at the warmth of her skin against his. “Good morning, darling,” he murmured. “How was the view?”

It was their usual routine, one they had fallen into over time without meaning to. She would look at the sky, and bring back a description of it. Over time, she’d gotten better at recalling it for him.

“Beautiful,” she answered. “The sea is calm today.”

He hummed. Astarion knew the ocean better than anyone else she’d ever met, and he always appeared to know how it would behave, even hours in advance.

As she continued to speak, recounting the vivid image of today’s sky to him, he listened intently. When she had finished, he closed his eyes, clearly trying to picture the image.

She wished she could capture it for him somehow – to trap it in a jar like a firefly, ready to be inspected by his keen eyes. His inability to go into the sun was a continual ache in her chest, not for herself, but for him.

The remnants of the light’s warmth on her skin and her daily recounting of the sunrise was as close as he could get, and as long as they were together, she would be more than happy to give it to him.

“Dinner is served!”

Beatrice’s voice echoed across the ship deck, complimented by the banging of her pans, and there was a scramble of the crew around her to be first in line for their meal.

It had taken her some time to get used to cooking on the ship, but it turned out that it wasn’t all that different from the occasions when she’d had to prepare meals in the Sea Bounty. There was just a little less space, and a little more rocking.

On the nights when the sea was rough, she’d stumble around, cursing under her breath. Sometimes, when someone else had control of the wheel, Astarion would come in and observe her, cracking jokes until she shot him a look of warning and he finally helped. Even a famous pirate captain knew not to get her angry.

Tonight’s ocean retained the glassy stillness of the morning, and dinner had been prepared without a hitch. The sun had long-since set, and the deck was lit with magical lanterns, illuminating the ship with glowing yellow light.

Most nights, dinner was taken in the wardroom, but with the unusual stillness of the sea, everyone had decided to take it on deck. Then Karlach had brought up several bottles of wine and a healthy amount of ale, and it had turned into a party.

Sprawls of jovial faces, most of them flushed with drink, were quick to fill their plates and find a seat, talking amongst themselves. When everyone else had finally cleared out, Beatrice took a helping of food for herself and looked around.

Gale was chatting with Karlach, no doubt telling her something about navigation, and she was aptly listening – her legs propped up in front of her, and her pint of ale sitting to her right. Shadowheart was arguing with Lae’zel about something or other, probably some type of weapon. Halsin and Jaheira sat next to Minsc, engaged in a lighthearted conversation. Even from her distance, she could hear Boo squeaking a reply.

Behind her, a pair of arms wrapped around her waist, and a chin rested on her shoulder. “Hello, my dear,” Astarion said, pressing a kiss to her jaw. “Come sit with me, won’t you?”

Nights like this were her favorites. She curled up next to him, his hand casually resting on her back as they watched the antics of the crew. Every so often, Astarion would bark out an order to someone, but mostly, he seemed content to observe.

Eventually, Karlach called for some music, and Gale rushed to oblige. Recently, they’d come across a series of figurines enchanted with Magic Mouth spells, each containing a series of lively songs to be played through. Soon, there was music spilling over the deck, and before she knew it, Astarion was getting to his feet and extending a hand.

“Dance with me?” he asked softly.

Beatrice hesitated. She wasn’t much of a dancer, and the idea of everyone’s eyes on her was daunting. But then there was the overlap of voices from the crew – each calling for her to dance, and she couldn’t help but nod, ducking her head and smiling.

So Astarion led her onto a clear space on the deck, and he danced with her. As with everything else, he was graceful and lithe, and his movements reminded her of how he looked when he was fighting, every action as fluid and smooth as the water around them. There was music in her ears, wind in her hair, and a flush in her cheeks. As the song went on, the two of them spun around, laughing and clinging onto each other.

When the music finally came to an end, they were met with a round of applause and cheering, with even a few ear-piercing whistles added into the mix. Beatrice was breathless and dizzy, holding onto Astarion’s arm for balance, and smiling so wide that her cheeks ached.

“Thank you kindly,” Astarion said, removing his tricorn and sweeping down into a low bow. Beatrice gave a small curtsy on impulse, and the two of them made their way back to their earlier spot.

Sitting there with her newfound family under the stars, Beatrice had never been happier.

She drank a bit of wine, laughed with Astarion as Halsin showed off some dance moves, and fell asleep with her head on Astarion’s shoulder.

She did not wake to the sunrise, nor to a warm bed with her lover on her side.

This time, she opened her eyes to a scene she’d dreamed about so many times – a scene that plagued her nightmares.

The ship was under attack.

Swords clashed in the distance, echoing across the deck from the bow. Voices called out in the darkness, some she knew, others she didn’t. When she shot up and ran toward the sound, she could see blood spilled on the wood beneath her feet.

She prayed to any god who would hear that it wasn’t Astarion’s.

When she got to the bow, the scene in front of her became clear – it was a merchant ship, but the people who’d boarded them were anything but merchants. They were clearly aiming to kill, and Shadowheart already had a deep gash in her right arm.

Most of the ship was covered in a thick fog, making it incredibly hard to see anything through the confusion. Shadowheart was the only one clearly visible – she stood on the outskirts of the smoke, using her left arm to fight off one of the invaders.

Beyond her, Beatrice could make out Gale’s silhouette through the haze, using his magic to send some of the intruders overboard. She knew how cold that water was, and she did not think they would be returning any time soon.

She couldn’t see Lae’zel, but the sound of her voice ringing through the air was unmistakable. “Hta’zith! Ir’zharn!”

Everyone else was lost in the fog.

A meter or so away, there was the corpse of a stranger. Breathing heavily, Beatrice bent down and grabbed the cutlass that lay next to him. Lae’zel and Astarion had been training her to use a proper blade, and she couldn’t just stand there, not knowing who was safe.

“Astarion!” she shouted, making her way into the fog. “Astarion!”

There was a grunt in the distance, then the ringing of metal. “Beatrice!”

Relief flooded through her. It was him, and for now, he was alive. If she could just get to him–

Before she could pinpoint where his voice had come from, a towering figure of one of the intruders came charging through the haze, his rapier slashing toward her. She dodged out of the way of his strike, spinning back to face him and using all her strength to jab her sword forward.

It landed between his ribs, sinking into his abdomen with sickening ease and splattering her with warm blood. He crumpled against the blade, crying out, and she yanked it from his body to stick him again. This time, his knees completely gave out under him, and he buckled down to the ground.

A wave of nausea rushed over her, but her panic was stronger.

“Astarion!” she called again.

“I’m here!”

His voice was closer now, and as she dashed toward it, she could see him – holding off three men, blood trickling down his temple and caught in his silvery locks. There was a wound in his right shoulder that stained his shirt with crimson, and he gritted his teeth with every movement of his right arm.

Beatrice didn’t hesitate. She ran toward the intruder closest to her and plunged her sword into his back. He let out a sharp burst of air, collapsing back as Astarion finished off one of the others. By the time she’d removed her blade, he had moved onto the last one, dodging the man’s attempted hit and aiming his cutlass at the tendons on the back of the assailant’s legs.

The man hit the ground, screaming in pain, and Astarion ended his cries with a swift plunge of his sword into the man’s chest.

“Retreat!” someone cried in the distance. “All men, retreat!”

There was a flurry of movement and faraway splashes, a few more meetings of blades, and then… silence. Nothing but silence, and the scraping of breaths through Beatrice’s ribs.

Astarion dropped his sword, moving toward her and taking hold of her shoulders. His eyes swept over her with a panicked intensity, wide and piercing. “Are you hurt?” he asked breathlessly, gripping her a little tighter. “Are you hurt?”

She had to answer three times before he heard her. His body went slack with relief, and he drew her close, holding her to his chest.

“Gods,” he said softly. “I thought I might have lost you. I was on my way to grab another bottle of wine, and then…”

“What did they want?” Beatrice asked. She didn’t recognize her own voice – it was airy, barely louder than the wind.

In response, Astarion simply looked down. She followed his gaze.

Near her feet, rustling in the breeze, was a piece of paper with Astarion’s likeness on the front.

By decree of the Flaming Fist

Astarion Ancunín

Wanted dead or alive

Reward – ten thousand gold

That damned reward. Beatrice wanted to tear the flier into a thousand pieces, but it was whipped away by the wind before she could get near it.

“We should check on the others,” Astarion said.

The fog was beginning to clear, and the two of them rushed toward the front of the bow, where the rest of the crew was beginning to gather. There were several corpses, but all of them were bodies of the intruders. As far as it looked, everyone from the Moon Raider had survived.

Almost everyone had been injured, though. Gale had a cut on his cheek and his hand, Lae’zel was nicked in several places, and Karlach was nursing a dislocated shoulder. Jaheira and Halsin were already getting started on healing various injuries, but both of them had sustained a number of bruises, and Minsc had lost a tooth.

Beatrice was the only one who hadn’t been hurt. Shame bloomed under her ribs at the realization – she should have helped more. Should have woken sooner, acted faster.

As if reading her thoughts, Astarion shook his head next to her. “Don’t,” he said simply.

His shoulder was still bleeding, she realized.

Grabbing some spare medical supplies, Beatrice led him away from the chaos and back to his cabin, sitting him down on the bed and taking a closer look at his injuries. The wound on his head wasn’t bad – a scrape, not deep at all. His shoulder was much worse, but nothing that would permanently cause damage.

His shirt was undoubtedly ruined, between the giant tear it had sustained in the shoulder, and the amount of blood soaked into the fabric. She quickly removed it, tossing it aside, then doused the wound in a healing potion. Astarion hissed in pain as the liquid met the skin, but soon relaxed as it began to work, knitting the skin back together.

She gave the same treatment to his head, careful to clean the blood out of his hair with a spare cloth. Even now, he looked handsome – the stray strands of hair that had escaped from his ponytail framing his face, and his garnet eyes following her every move. The kohl around his eyes had smeared a little, and he looked incredibly worn out, but he was still the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

He tilted his head, a smile playing on the corners of his lips. “See something you like, darling?” he asked.

“Maybe,” she replied, continuing to dab at his head even though the wound was well and truly clean. Despite her best efforts at coyness, her cheeks flushed, betraying her.

“Beatrice,” Astarion murmured, resting his hand over hers.

She paused her efforts, and he loosened her grip, tugging the rag out of her hand and setting it on the bed. Then, he placed a finger under her chin, tilting her head so she was looking at him. He brushed his thumb over her lips, and her heart instantly began to pound in her chest.

She knew he could hear it.

Very gently, he pressed his lips against hers, and she melted into his touch. It was familiar, and it was comfortable, and it was a distraction against the memory of what had just occurred – a scene that would surely haunt her for months, following her all the way into her dreams.

His hands tangled into her scarlet curls as the kiss deepened, his mouth molding against hers and a groan rumbling in the back of his throat. She didn’t think twice before she moved closer, straddling his thighs and clutching desperately at his shoulders.

When she finally pulled away for air, dizzy with the lack of breath, she could see the pink scar that had been left from tonight’s skirmish on his shoulder. She brushed her fingers over it – the soft, porcelain skin that gave way to the raised line of recently-healed flesh. Another attempt on his life.

As Astarion pressed kisses to her neck, she trailed her fingers lower, brushing over the words she’d read so many times.

Aes leha nielen mertel.

Hunted but never killed.

A reminder that he was there. That she hadn’t lost him, and that her worst fears hadn’t come true. Outside, the ocean had begun to roughen, but she didn’t care a bit. The only thing that existed was Astarion, and his hands on her, undoing the laces of her corset.

When it fell away, his mouth met her skin, pressing urgent kisses down her sternum, trailing over her breasts, nipping at the delicate skin. He took a nipple into his mouth and she gasped, letting the sensation of his tongue carry her away.

He always liked to mark her, and tonight was no exception. His teeth left a number of fresh love bites in various places – her neck, her collarbone, her breasts.

“Beatrice,” he repeated breathlessly, taking her face in his hands and kissing her desperately, hungrily.

He was hard underneath her, and she was impatient for him. Letting her weight rest on him, she gave a roll of her hips.

“Darling,” he moaned, the word spilling into her mouth as his fingers ventured under her skirt. “I need you.”

“Astarion,” she panted, shifting along with his movements so he could remove her smallclothes.

He tugged them off, carelessly tossing them aside and kissing her once again. His fingers returned to her, finding her wet and wanting, and he made a small, choked noise in the back of his throat.

It was a sound she wanted to bottle up and listen to forever.

As his thumb began to roll slow, torturous motions against her, she let out a whimper. Her body went slack in pleasure, and she buried her face into his neck. Her breathing was so very loud in her ears, scraping in her lungs as he continued his movements, sweat slowly beginning to drip down the back of her thighs.

Eventually, she couldn’t take it anymore. “I want you,” she whined, pulling her face back and giving him a pleading look.

“Then you’ll have me, you greedy little thing,” he said.

And with that, he moved to undo his trousers, freeing himself and lining his cock up with her entrance. Her vision hazed over with pleasure as he pressed into her, and her eyes fluttered shut as he gripped her waist, slowly guiding the motions of her hips in time with the rocking of the ship.

Her breaths pulled sharply through her lungs as the rhythm continued, maddening and euphoric all at once. She kept her eyes on him, half-lidded with desire, watching the pleasure streak across his beautiful face.

He was here. He was with her. He was safe.

As hot arousal pooled steadily into her gut, her breathing began to lose its rhythm, dissolving into loud, gasping breaths. Her climax ripped through her without warning – stealing her breath, arching her back, blackening her vision. Waves of pleasure lulled her through sensation after sensation, until her body finally came back to her: legs trembling, and her mouth dry.

Astarion followed after her, kissing her hard as he spent himself inside her, his hands tightening on her waist as he shuddered through his orgasm.

For a moment, they simply clung to each other, breathing heavily.

Then, after carefully removing himself, he helped her clean up – pressing a gentle kiss to her lips when he was done. Once she was able to fully move again, he gently coaxed her down onto the bed so she was facing him, pulling her close and nuzzling his nose against her cheek

Outside, she knew the sun must be rising, but she didn’t care.

No view could compare to the one she had right in front of her.

#bg3apprecimaytion2024 #astarion x oc

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francesminos-tt · 1 year ago

Note

Victorian era, Daeron is engaged to Lady Baratheon, thus ensuring a strong alliance for his family, but on his return to Kings Lading, he finally meets his nephew Joffrey, a knight so interesting and handsome that he makes Daeron question everything... angst, Interlized homophobia, denying feelings... pls 🥹🫶

I’m not sure if this is angst enough for you, but it’s the best I can do. Enjoy.

Daeron regretted returning to King’s Landing by ship the moment the ship left Old Town Harbor. The weather was unforgiving this time of the year, strong gust sweeping across the sea, with occasional rain, or even hail. Daeron couldn't sleep in his cold chamber, with howling wind and loud noises of rain drops pouring on the deck. The captain kept the ship carefully near the coast, sailing south first and then traced the shoreline of Dorne. However, the ship still almost got wrecked when sailing through the Stepstones in a storm. Daeron was struck by the severest seasickness of his life. He kept vomiting and vomiting, unable to even hold down a glass of wine. He was about to vomit his guts out when the ship finally sailed past the treacherous water of the Stepstones. Three days later, the ship sailed into the Blackwater Bay.

King’s Landing was a strange place for Daeron. He had left the capital at the young age of four, so his memory of the city was unreliable, to say the least. He was more used to the sunny days of Old Town, when the golden sun met the white wall of the Citadel and the black marble of the Starry Sept. Old Town smelled of flowery delicacy, melons, moonbloom, nightshade, peaches and pomegranates. The long summer days were stiflingly hot, but when the night fell, the city came alive with markets, taverns and pleasure houses open well into the night. Old Town was a place where knowledge met religion, where tradition met foreign values, where restriction met decadence. One could find the holiest place as well as the most extravagant pleasure houses in the Southern part of the realm. Daeron was brought up in such a place of conflict. That was why he considered himself a man with strong beliefs in the Seven, but also a sinner of the most unspeakable crime.

Daeron could tell King’s Landing was different before he even set foot on its soil. For start, the smell was different. No flowery delicacy, only the pungent mix of fish, iron, foreign spices and human filth. He could see the Red Keep in the distance, its red walls half veiled by a thick fog, like an ominous eye of the evil. The harbor was even busier than that of Old Town. Workers were unloading the cargo from the trading ships, merchants rushing to the harbor office to get their paperwork gone, oyster girls sliding skillfully in the crowd with their salty snacks, and armed soldiers patrolling the area. This place was bustling with life.

Daeron gathered his suitcase and walked carefully down the deck. He tried his best to make himself presentable, but the result was not so satisfactory. Days of seasickness and sleep deprivation left him exhausted and weak, his skin so dull and his cheeks so sunken that he looked more like a skeleton than a man. He stink, too. Daeron wondered who would be so unlucky to welcome him back to King’s Landing.

Probably some servant. Or maybe Hel, if she insisted. Daeron’s sister was always the most adventurous one among his siblings, though she didn't look the part.

“Excuse me, sir, are you Daeron Targaryen by any chance?” A young man stopped him on his way to the harbor office.

“Yes.” Daeron replied, “And you are?”

“Uncle!” The young man laughed and gave Daeron a big hug before the blonde could realize what was happening, “It’s been so long since we last met! So nice to see you again!”

Daeron was taken aback by the young man’s sudden intimacy. For a second, he worried that the fishy smell on his clothes might disgust the young man. Then his attention was drawn to the word uncle. Was this young man one of his nephews? He was too old to be Jaehaerys or Maelor, obviously, so who did that leave? Jacaerys, Lucerys and Joffrey. Which one could he be?

“I am terribly sorry,” Daeron found his voice again after a long while, but he was still too shocked to hug the man back, “forgive me not for not recognizing you. It seems my memory isn’t as good as I think it is.”

The young man laughed and took half a step back. His arms were still loosely wrapped around Daeron’s torso, their face so close that Daeron could make out the small freckles adorning the man’s cheek. The man was slightly shorter than Daeron, with dark fluffy curls and darker eyes. Unlike Daeron, who was dressed in a formal suit even after a long journey at sea, the young man was wearing only a shirt and matching pants, with the top buttons undone to expose his beautiful collar bone and sun-kissed skin. Daeron’s eyes landed on the man’s lips, rosy and soft like the freshest petals, now curling up into a bright smile.

“No need to apologize, uncle. I won't blame you for not recognizing me. The last time we met, I was still a toddler.” The man chuckled, “Welcome back, uncle Daeron. I am Joffrey.”

Daeron barely reacted to the name because he was too caught up by how close Joffrey was. He could feel the heat from his dark-haired nephew, smell the faint cologne from Joffrey’s neck, and see the small beads of sweat hanging on Joffrey’s smooth forehead. Daeron went stiff all of a sudden, his palms began to sweat and his breathing quickened by nervousness. Joffrey was too close, too close for Daeron to remain sane.

“Uncle?” Joffrey tilted his head and called Daeron’s name again, “Uncle Daeron?”

“Oh! Sorry.” Daeron lowered his gaze immediately and struggled out of Joffrey’s arms, as if burned by the brunette’s skin, “Thank you for seeing me here, nephew. Forgive my rudeness. The sea journey must have messed up my head.”

“No problem.” Joffrey’s smile resumed, “I volunteered to pick you up, since I work at the harbor office, you know.”

Daeron wanted to ask what Joffrey’s job was, because he didn't believe the brunette’s outfit was appropriate for any job, let alone an office one. But he kept his mouth shut eventually. Maybe things were different here in King’s Landing.

“Besides,” Joffrey spoke, reaching out wrap his arm around Daeron’s shoulder again, “I am curious about you, uncle Daeron. I wonder what kind of a man you have become.”

Not as honorable as you might expect, Daeron thought. He let himself be led to the office to process his paperwork, while keeping his eyes on Joffrey’s snatched waist and cute butt.

“When will your betrothed join us, my dear?” Lady Alicent asked after Daeron had followed her into her private parlor for tea.

“Ellyn will stay with her family for the holiday, mother.” Daeron replied, his voice perfectly flat.

“She can join us for the holiday. I am sure King’s Landing has more to offer than Storm’s End.” Alicent said, stirring her tea after putting one scoop of sugar in it. She sat elegantly in her chair, back straight and shoulder squared, as if she was having tea with the royalty rather than her own son. Daeron couldn’t remember a time when his mother broke her perfect posture. No, Lady Alicent was the epitome of self-discipline.

“Her family is at Storm’s End, mother.” Daeron reminded her as gently as possible. Lady Alicent was a proper woman, but sometimes she just lacked the ability to empathize with others.

“I don’t see any sense for her to stay at that gloomy place any longer, since the wedding will take place in spring.” Alicent took a small bite of the jam filled sponge cake and then her tea, “Perhaps you should send her a letter and ask her to come here. I can't wait to meet my daughter-in-law.”

Daeron’s betrothal with Ellyn Baratheon was made solely by his mother. It was somewhat of a compensation for the failed betrothal of Daeron’s brother Aemond and Ellyn’s sister Floris. Lord Baratheon was furious when Aemond broke the marriage pact, but fortunately, Lady Alicent was able to persuade the old lord that their family still had the chance to form an alliance by the marriage of her youngest son and his lordship’s youngest daughter. Daeron only found out about his betrothal by a letter from the capital. He hadn't even met Ellyn Baratheon yet, only exchanged letters with the young lady. Daeron still felt detached to the matter, as if his mother was talking about someone else. He had to detach himself, or the fate would be too cruel to accept.

He always knew he would marry for the benefit of the family. His own feelings did not matter. Daeron had to spend the rest of his life with Ellyn Baratheon, whether he loved her or not.

No. Daeron was sure he would not love her, not in a romantic way, at least. He was incapable of loving a woman. His interest and affection always ended up on the same sex. He liked the angular features of men, the hard feeling of muscle under his hand, the musky breath, the smell of cologne and sweat, the beautiful body sculptured by the God.

Daeron couldn’t help but think of his nephew. Joffrey. Wild, handsome, and so full of life. Joffrey had occupied his dream ever since their meeting at the harbor. Daeron couldn’t stop thinking about how Joffrey’s smile seemed to brighten up the day, how warm Joffrey’s arm felt around his shoulder, and how beautiful Joffrey was.

Seven. He had sinned for having inappropriate thoughts about his nephew.

“Daeron? Are you listening, my dear?” Alicent’s voice snapped Daeron out of his train of thoughts.

“I am sorry, mother.” Daeron smiled awkwardly, “What were you saying?”

“I said, you should send a letter to invite your betrothed to King’s Landing.” Alicent put down her cup and leaned in to take Daeron’s hand into hers, “Are you okay, dear? You seem a little out of it today.”

“Thank you, mother. I am fine.” Daeron squeezed her hand gently, “Just tired.”

“Perhaps you should retire to your room early. I will tell the servants to prepare something for your sleep.” Alicent suggested, reaching her free hand for the bell.

Daeron nodded. He didn’t think some random concoction would help calm his mind, but he was desperate to be alone right now. He would agree to anything if it meant he could get away from his mother. He loved his mother, and he was sure she loved him back, to an acceptable extent at least, but sometimes her attitude was just suffocating. Lady Alicent would go extreme length to make sure all her children live a proper life, which meant accomplish things at appropriate age. Start studying no later than six, get involved in holy practices from eight, secure a proper marriage pact at eighteen, and marry before twenty. Such were the general rules of the society, and Lady Alicent believed an honorable member of the society needed to follow these rules.

Daeron went to the Sept frequently even though he never really understood the core of the Seven. He didn't object when his mother informed him in the letter that she had arranged a desirable marriage pact for him. Daeron guessed it was a show of love from his mother that she ever bothered to send a letter to him. All Daeron did was writing back to tell her that he trusted her wise judgment and thank her for the trouble.

It never mattered what Daeron wanted. He had lived his whole life like a puppet, doing everything his mother considered proper and beneficial to their family, so why stop now?

“Get some rest, my son.” Alicent planted a soft kiss on Daeron’s forehead before resuming her upright position, “Hopefully I will see you tomorrow morning at breakfast.”

“I will. Thank you, mother.” Daeron said, a strained smile on his face. He didn't know if his mother sensed his melancholy, but even if she did, she wouldn't ask about it anyway.

Daeron went straight back to his room located on the other wing of the mansion. The Red Keep was a magcificent place, having more than a dozen of bedrooms, a large ballroom, three lounges, two libraries, and numerous rooms for various entertainment purposes. There was a large kitchen on the ground floor, with spaces for servants and helpers. The Targaryen family had estates in other parts of the realm too, such as the Dragonstone mansion that Daeron’s half-sister and her family currently resided.

Not Joffrey though. Joffrey lived in Red Keep, in one of the guestrooms, since his work required him to stay in the capital. Lady Alicent begrudgingly invited the young man to live under her roof, because, again, it was considered a properly thing for a step grandmother to do.

Daeron was thinking about Joffrey’s bright smile when he bumped into the brunette right in front of his own room.

“Nephew?” Daeron gasped, his light violet eyes widened in surprise, “What are you doing outside my room?”

“Waiting for you, of course.” Joffrey flashed a smile, as bright as how Daeron remembered it, “You disappeared after dinner. I reckon I’d better wait here so I don’t miss you.”

“Do you need to discuss anything with me? Is it important?” Daeron took a step back, trying to stay a safe distance away from the brunette. Joffrey was like a house on fire; Daeron would be engulfed in flame if he stayed too close.

“I do have something I want to ask you.” Joffrey said, eyeing the closed door, “But it is best to discuss in private. Why don’t you ask me in, uncle?”

Daeron bit his lower lip and stayed silent for a long while. He was torn. On one hand, he was thrilled to invite Joffrey into his room, but on the other hand, he was scared to let others invade in his private space. Daeron had always been a private person. He had to, because he had so much to hide. He had to stay behind closed door, because he couldn't afford to expose his dirtiest secret to anyone. He risked losing everything.

Joffrey leaned against the wall and waited patiently for Daeron to give his answer. He still had a faint smile on his face, but his dark eyes contained something Daeron could not decipher. Was it guilt? What was Joffrey guilty of?

“We don't have all night, uncle.” Joffrey reminded him in a whisper.

A maid appeared around the corner with a tray in her hands, interrupting the heavy silence.

“Oh! Good evening, Sirs.” She bowed her head at two young gentlemen, “Lady Alicent sent me to bring you the sleep drop, Lord Daeron.”

“Right.” Daeron murmured under his breath, taking the tray from her, “You can go. I will take it from here.”

“But sir-”

“I said go.” Daeron’s voice came out harsher than he intended, “Please, I can take care of myself.”

The maid curtseyed and fled the scene. Even she could feel the tension between the two young lords, so instinct told her to leave before she witnessed anything she shouldn’t.

“Have trouble sleeping, uncle?” Joffrey asked after making sure the maid had already gone, “Perhaps I should go. Sorry to bother you.”

“NO!” Daeron balanced the tray on his left forearm and used his right hand to grab Joffrey’s shoulder, “Don't go. Don't you have things to discuss with me? Come inside.”

Joffrey half turned and lifted his eyes to observe Daeron closely. Joffrey’s eyes were like a bottomless pool of pure darkness, so glassy and so beautiful that Daeron could see his own reflection on them. Daeron didn't know what Joffrey was looking for, but apparently the brunette found the result he needed.

“Okay.” Joffrey whispered, blinking, “If you insist.”

“I do.” Daeron confirmed. For some reason, he had never been more confident of his decisions like he was now. He had no idea what would happen next, but he was damn sure if he let Joffrey go now, he would regret for the rest of his life.

Daeron’s bedroom was a comfortable suite with a four-post bed and a study desk. The hearth was burning quietly, providing much needed warmth. There were a pair of armchairs and a small table in front of the fire. Daeron put the tray down on the table before gesturing Joffrey to take a seat in one of the armchairs.

“What is that you want to discuss?” Daeron asked after sitting down on the oppose chair.

“How do you find King’s Landing so far, uncle?” Joffrey asked, turning his head from the hearth to look at Daeron, his face painted a lovely yellow by the fire.

“Pleasant. I am glad to be back.” Daeron replied before he could really understand the question. He had practiced the answer in his mind for so many times in case someone asked him about it.

“Honestly, I don't believe you, uncle.” Joffrey said, “If it’s truly the case, you won't need sleep drops to help you rest. So I am going to ask you again. How do you find King’s Landing?”

Daeron’s heart skipped a beat. No one had ever seen through his practiced lie before, not in his face, anyway. How could Joffrey expose his lie to his face so easily?

“…Tolerable.” Daeron answered with a helpless sigh. He hadn’t really thought about his feelings towards the city he was supposed to call home, so tolerable was the best he could come up with right now.

“I won't blame you. According to my knowledge, King’s Landing is quite different from anywhere else in the realm. I feel like an outsider when I am visiting Dragonstone, too, you know. Like, everything is quieter there.” Joffrey shrugged, “The sky is clearer and people are, let’s say, more content with their lives.”

“But you like it more here.” Daeron said.

“Yes.” Joffrey nodded, never one to hide his thoughts, “Hard to believe, isn't it? King’s Landing is like a melting pot of all sorts of people having their own agendas. I am used to reaching for my pocket whenever someone bumps into me on the street. Besides, the city smells like shit too.”

Daeron chuckled. What Joffrey had just described was absolutely true. He was intrigued by how eloquent Joffrey could be, and the way the brunette vividly described the city genuinely impressed him. Joffrey Velaryon was truly an interesting character. His very presence was the reason why the capital was tolerable to Daeron. If not for Joffrey, King’s Landing would just be a filthy place drowned by shit and industrial waste.

“Again, despite all the things you say, you like King’s Landing.” Daeron pointed out, finally relaxing in his chair. He had grown the habit of staying upright like his mother all the time, to keep the family’s honor, but here, in the privacy of his room and with Joffrey, Daeron slowly let his guard down. It was impossible not to be influenced by Joffrey’s easygoing demeanor.

“I do. I find the people interesting. All the different values, ambitions, desires, and culture. Just fascinating.” Joffrey rested his chin in his hand, “I have learned a lot here, but there is so much more to explore still. Currently, my biggest interest is you, uncle.”

Daeron almost choked on his own spit. No, he told himself, Joffrey didn't mean it like that. His nephew was probably curious about his sudden return to the capital. Nothing more. Stop acting like an awkward boy.

“I am afraid you will be disappointed, nephew. I am a simple man, you see. I don't have much to interest you.” Daeron said, clasping his hands together to stop them from fidgeting.

“I understand that you are coming back to get married.” Joffrey spoke, his voice almost drowned out by the crackling fire, “Lady Ellyn from House Baratheon, right? I have met her in a ball once. Pretty lady, the most agreeable among her sisters, I would say.”

“I haven’t met her yet.” Daeron admitted. He probably shouldn't reveal this to Joffrey, but somehow, Joffrey had the ability to dig the honest side out from people.

“Oh,” Joffrey said, a bit surprised, “I see.”

“My mother arranged the marriage for me. Lord Baratheon is a longtime business partner of the family, so marrying will strengthen the bond between our house and House Baratheon.” Daeron said, clasping his hands so hard that his knuckles turned white.

“How can you know your feelings for Lady Ellyn if you haven't met her yet?” Joffrey asked, genuinely confused, “What if you don't like her? What if she doesn't like you? How are you supposed to spend the rest of your lives together if you don't having feelings for each other?”

“Marriage isn't about feelings.” Daeron said, more like a reminder to himself than to Joffrey.

“Fuck that.” Joffrey hissed, “Who makes you believe in such nonsense? Feelings are the foundation of a happy marriage.”

“Is that why you haven't been betrothed yet?” Daeron blurted out before he could stop himself, “Haven’t found anyone you like?”

Joffrey pursed his lips together and went silent. Daeron’s question might sound a bit intruding, but it was not an offensive one. Why did Joffrey choose to stay silent now?

“Joffrey?” Daeron called the brunette’s name, “It’s okay if you don't want to answer. I am sorry. I didn't mean to pry.”

“There is someone I like.” Joffrey interrupted Daeron’s babbling, “But that person is not marriage material.”

“Why? You never know unless you try. Is the lady of low birth?”

Joffrey laughed, before whispering eventually.

“There is no lady to begin with.”

“What do you mean? You did say you have feelings for someone.” Daeron frowned, not quite sure where this conversation was going, “How come there is no lady...”

Daeron trailed off, as realization struck him like lightening. Could it be? But how? What was the odds of Joffrey sharing the same sinful thoughts with him?

“I’ve never liked women, not in a romantic way.” Joffrey spoke, his voice low but firm, “My feelings are always towards the same sex.”

“Stop it,” Daeron hissed, looking down, his voice trembling, “stop it, Joffrey.”

Daeron saw a pair of boots stopping before him, as Joffrey had gotten up from the armchair and walked to Daeron’s side. Joffrey stood so close that their knees almost touched.

“Why?” Joffrey’s voice came from above, “I am just being honest. Honesty is a virtue, uncle.”

Now Daeron could smell Joffrey’s cologne, and the faint trace of brandy.

“You are drunk, nephew. You are not thinking straight.” Daeron said, trying his best to keep his voice flat, “I will let your words slip this time.”

“I can't be more sober than I am now.” Joffrey put his hands on Daeron’s shoulder and pushed gently, forcing the blonde to lean on the chair as he straddled his uncle, “I like men. I’ve always liked men, and I like you.”

“You don't know what you are talking about.” Daeron murmured, but he didn't push Joffrey away. He couldn't. He was paralyzed by the brunette’s closeness.

“You are interested in me as well, aren’t you?” Joffrey grabbed Daeron’s hand and led it to his own chest, “You couldn’t stop checking me out as soon as we met at the harbor.”

Joffrey’s skin was scorching hot against Daeron’s own, and Daeron could feel the other man’s racing heart against his palm.

“You can feel me if you like.” Joffrey whispered, guiding Daeron’s hand down from his chest to his stomach, then further down to his navel, his lower abdomen, and finally his groin.

Daeron shivered as his hand touched something hard and twitching over Joffrey’s pants. He had never touched another man’s cock before, but he could tell Joffrey was already well aroused from the wetness of the fabric. Daeron swallowed, too fascinated to pull his hand back.

“Admit it, uncle,” Joffrey began to grind on Daeron’s lap, “you want me. Stop lying to yourself.”

“I am getting married,” Daeron managed lamely, “I can't-”

“Then push me away.” Joffrey wrapped his arms around Daeron’s neck to balance himself as he kept grinding, “Push me away and say you don't want me. I will never bother you again.”

Daeron should push him away. He really should, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. The Seven always taught him to be tough in face of temptation, but Daeron was weak. Years of attending sept did nothing to help him now, as he was easily led astray by this beautiful young man, who happened to be his nephew.

This was so wrong. Wrong in every level.

“Stop lying to yourself, uncle.” Joffrey whispered in Daeron’s ear before taking the blonde’s earlobe between his teeth and nibbled gently.

Daeron squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. He was the one who couldn't think straight now. He had always been standing on the edge of the abyss, and Joffrey was the push he needed to throw himself off the cliff.

“Call my name.” Daeron said, burying his face into Joffrey’s neck and bit down hard.

“Daeron.”

Daeron’s whole body sang at Joffrey’s words. He didn't know what ecstasy was, but this was close enough.

#house of the dragon #hotd #joffron #my asks #joffrey velaryon #daeron x joffrey #daeron the daring #light angst

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agentrouka-blog · 2 years ago

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I saw a theory on reddit that the seasickness Sansa experienced on the way to Vale was actually the result of her being given abortifacient drugs by Petyr, which interfered with her reproductive organs so now she can't have children 💀. Evidence: apparently when she suffered from nausea, some of the wording was similar to Dany having miscarriage.

Whoa. I have never heard of that! Bwaha!

I'd say the text is pretty clear it's a combination of seasickness and the deeply traumatic events of her departure from King's Landing. Having been told she was made an accessory in the murder of Joffrey, and all that. Witnessing the murder of Dontos. Not knowing what will happen to her.

She had seldom ventured out on deck herself. Her little cabin was dank and cold, but Sansa had been sick for most of the voyage … sick with terror, sick with fever, or seasick … she could keep nothing down, and even sleep came hard. Whenever she closed her eyes she saw Joffrey tearing at his collar, clawing at the soft skin of his throat, dying with flakes of pie crust on his lips and wine stains on his doublet. And the wind keening in the lines reminded her of the terrible thin sucking sound he’d made as he fought to draw in air. (...) The wind ran salty fingers through her hair, and Sansa shivered. Even this close to shore, the rolling of the ship made her tummy queasy. She desperately needed a bath and a change of clothes. I must look as haggard as a corpse, and smell of vomit. (ASOS, Sansa VI)

(No, this isn't quite like Dany's bout of Pale Mare and miscarriage in the grasslands, which realistically features copious vomit, bleeding, and diarrhea.)

Littlefinger is unlikely to waste all the effort he put into acquiring his precious Catelyn-alike and her valuable claim and family connections, by nearly killing her with some kind of shoddy moontea knock-off. Because Arianne wouldn't be regularly drinking the stuff if it normally had these effects, nor would anyone else.

Littlefinger isn't an idiot. What would he gain from endangering Sansa in this way? Or endangering her fertility? All he had to do was find out if the marriage was consumated. It's the talk of the town. He's been out in the Bay for weeks and weeks. He would know to ask.

Not to mention, it's quite another jump to go from the unlikely "he gave her an abortifacent" straight to "she is infertile now", too. Seems like someone is more interested in justifying the idea of Sansa's infertility than in considering whether it would make sense.

This is just painfully unlikely.

GRRM needed a reason they didn't have their big conversation about the regicide conspiracy on the ship but on land, where there's fresh fruit available to create some nice pomegranate symbolism. Hence, seasickness and a nice bout of trauma-induced fever straight out of some 19th century novel.

#rouka queue #sansa stark #littlefinger #fandom foolery

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lostywrites · 10 months ago

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Summary:

The Hidden Ones encounter a mysterious traveller from Azeroth. Recognising an opportunity to expand their influence and forge new alliances, they appoint Basim Ibn Ishaq, a devoted disciple, as their representative.

In a realm where ancient lore and magic are as tangible as the air he breathes, Basim must rely on his wits, skills, and newfound connections to fulfill his mission and unlock secrets that could change the fate of both worlds.

A Warcraft/Assassin's Creed Mirage crossover fic. Set before the events of Dragonflight and Valhalla.

Pairing: Basim/OC

Chapter 1 I Chapter 2 I Chapter 3 I Chapter 4 I Chapter 5

Chapter 6 - Beneath the Eternal Starlight

"You're more a man of the sands than the sea, aren't you?"

A weak chuckle escaped Basim as he heard the familiar voice. He was leaning against the ship’s traffail as he looked out to the horizon, trying to find solace in its steady line. The constant swaying of the vessel had tested his endurance far more than he cared to admit.

"Is it really that obvious?" the assassin quipped, wiping his mouth with a cloth after another bout of seasickness. He turned to face Anduin, who seemed unfazed by the month-long voyage, clearly a seasoned traveller accustomed to the whims of the sea. "The desert with its shifting sands has a predictability I've come to rely on. The ocean's mood swings, however, are as vast and unpredictable as her depths."

Anduin offered a sympathetic smile. "The sea does take some getting used to. But look," the king gestured towards the approaching shore, "Gadgetzan awaits, promising the solid ground you've been longing for."

Basim’s gaze followed Anduin’s and settled on the vibrant port of Gadgetzan, welcoming the familiar, arid heat of the desert. The lively dock's symphony -- the clanging of metal, and animated haggling of traders -- was music to his ears.

"Praise be to God," he whispered, drawing a deep, appreciative breath. The dry air filled his lungs, replacing the heavy, salty sea breeze he had grown accustomed to. "I thought we'd never set foot on land again..."

Stepping onto the dock, he paused, allowing himself a moment to relish the solid ground beneath his feet. It was a welcome change, and a reassurance that he was back in an environment he understood better, where his skills as a Hidden One could be fully exercised.

#basim ibn ishaq #anduin wrynn #warcraft #assassin's creed mirage #fanfic

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arthropod-concoctions · 1 year ago

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My @mcytblrholidayexchange gift for @salty-seasick! I had a blast writing this, and I hope you enjoy reading it! Can be read on AO3 or below the cut:

Relationship: Etho/Bdubs

Characters: Etho, Bdubs

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Gender Identity, Trans Male Ethoslab, Coming Out, Hugs, Banter, Anxiety/Comfort

Summary: Angel and Echo may be the most powerful superheroes around, but they do have a life beyond that as well. Sometimes Echo wishes he could forget his personal life. Sometimes Angel wishes he could forget his heroic life. At least they have each other.

Note: the character called Sunny at the start of the fic is Etho.

~ * * * ~

“I think my superhero alter ego should be a guy,” Sunny said, sitting on the couch with her legs folded underneath her.

“You- really?” Bdubs was sitting on the floor in front of the couch, looking at the paper where he was sketching outfits for the two of them, but he looked up to reply to Sunny. “What makes you say that?”

“For anonymity, you know?” she replied. “If the new superheroes on the block are a guy and a girl, everyone’s gonna be looking for a guy and a girl, and someone might realise it’s us. But if it’s two guys, we’ll never be suspected.”

Bdubs let out a surprised laugh, but nodded. “Okay. You know what, that’s actually pretty smart. Sure.” He grabbed another paper, this one with two lists of bullet points, and added another point to one: “`Sunny: superhero is a man.’ Wonderful. Uh, do we have to change your outfit as well then?”

“Let me see,” Sunny replied, leaning over Bdubs’ shoulder to look at the designs. “No, I think that’s still good.” The design of the outfit had some of her hair poking out, but that wouldn’t be a problem; her hair was quite short already. She liked it that way, it was just more convenient. And the outfit didn’t show much skin; for anonymity, and to prevent from accidentally touching something she shouldn’t while using her power. If she played her cards right, maybe used a voice modulator, no one would suspect that the hero might be a woman.

“Good.” Bdubs said. “Alright, next point: names. Any ideas?”

“Hmm��” Sunny thought. “Something like Ecto? If I’m going to be phasing through things, like a ghost…”

“Ecto…” Bdubs was quiet for a few seconds, then snapped his fingers. “I’ve got it! Echo! Hear me out. I’ll be Angel, because I have the voice of an angel, and you’ll be that voice’s echo. I’ll use my singing, and then when they least expect it, you’ll show up and give them a beating. Angel and Echo.”

“Right, I see,” Sunny said, smiling and leaning back. “I’ll be secondary to you, just the way you want it.”

“No- I- no, of course not!” Bdubs laughed, and moved onto the couch, wrapping his arms around Sunny. “I’m sorry. Come on, Sunshine, you know that’s not what I meant.”

“Oh, I don’t know, Bdubs, I think the jury’s still out on that one…” Sunny laughed, then returned Bdubs’ embrace, putting her head on top of his. “I’m just kidding. Of course you didn’t mean it. You’d never say mean things about me, would you?” she asked, sarcasm lacing her voice.

“I never say mean things,” Bdubs agreed, and then they just sat for a moment, enjoying each other’s touch. Until Bdubs spoke up: “Just two superhero dudes hanging out.”

Sunny burst out laughing, and pushed Bdubs off of herself. “Come on, dude, you ruined the moment!” she said.

Bdubs laughed too. “I have to get some practice in, you know? If y- if Echo’s going to be a guy, I have to really get that in my head.”

“Just Echo, not me. I mean, if you start treating me like a guy in person as well, that defeats the whole point!”

“Of course, of course.” Bdubs sighed contentedly, the laughter finally wearing off. “You and me, Echo and Angel. We’re gonna make a great team.”

- - - -

Echo sat on the roof of an apartment building, watching the sun rise over the city- over his city. His and Angel’s debut as superheroes a year ago had been a resounding success, and their corner of the city had never been safer. When something did happen, the two of them jumped to the chase, smoothly executing the tactic Bdubs had laid out for them back then: he would take their attention, distracting and potentially soothing them with his voice, and Echo would phase in from behind and knock them out. It was still a bit of a weird strategy to Echo. Bdubs insisted that his singing had an effect, that it was an essential part of the plan, but it barely seemed to slow their enemies down after the initial confusion. Whenever he sang to Echo, he couldn’t feel any effect either, but Bdubs always said he was simply holding back. Still, it seemed a little fishy to Echo.

I keep calling him Bdubs even when thinking about his hero persona, he thought to himself. I really shouldn’t do that. Not when I keep calling myself Echo instead of-

Well, that was the other weird thing. He- she- Sunny never called herself Sunny anymore. When alone, she wore Echo’s outfit whenever possible. When with other people, every time she noticed somebody looking at her, she just wanted to disappear, to phase out and maybe come back looking different. Every day, Sunny’s first thought was what he was going to do as Echo, rather than what she was going to do as Sunny.

The plan that Sunny had made a year ago was clear. To be a man as a superhero, and a woman in everyday life, to draw suspicion away from herself.

He’s afraid it might have backfired spectacularly.

Well, I’m gonna need a new name again, he thought. Obviously he couldn’t start calling himself Echo to his friends and family as well. He thought back to the day when they were brainstorming superhero names. ‘Ecto’ was the name that popped into his head back then, was there anything he could do with that? It was very similar to Echo, but maybe he removing the `k’-sound would help. Etto, Eto…

Etho?

“Etho,” he said to himself, slowly. It had a nice ring to it. He tried again: “Hello everybody, my name is Etho…”

A smile crept onto his face. It was a very good name.

He phased out, becoming completely invisible and intangible to the outside world, then began descending through the walls the building. He kept his eyes closed as he did so, careful not to look inside the other residents’ apartments. After a minute, he’d ended up back in his own apartment; he opened his eyes, and phased back in, feet thumping the ground as if he’d jumped.

After taking a quick shower, Etho got dressed in his usual getup; sweatpants, a t-shirt, and a comfy jacket. He’d always valued comfort over fashion, a preference which had gotten stronger over the years; in hindsight, that was probably because he’d been looking at the wrong fashion.

I should probably go shopping for new clothes soon, huh? he thought to himself. He wasn’t quite sure what to do, to be honest. Should he tell Bdubs about his decision immediately? This seemed like the kind of thing you had to think about for longer than one morning before going around telling people. Not to mention his relationship with Bdubs… probably wouldn’t be the same. He hadn’t fallen in love with a guy, after all. But then, would acting like nothing’s changed be any better? Maybe-

Suddenly, he heard a pounding at his door. He jerked around in surprise to look at it; he rarely got visitors, and that didn’t exactly sound like a friendly knock. Had he pissed off his neighbours somehow? Now he heard a rattle; someone was messing with his lock. That worried him; he put Echo’s gloves back on, just in case there’d be a fight, then opened the door.

Bdubs stood on the other side of it, his copy of the apartment key in his hand. He jolted in surprise when the door opened. “You are awake!” he said.

“Yeah, I’m awake. What the hell are you doing, man? Did you…” he trailed off, taking a good look at Bdubs now. He seemed to be out of breath, his eyes were bloodshot, and he was shaking. “Wait, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Never better. Can I come in?”

Etho stepped aside, letting Bdubs enter. “Are you being chased? Do we need to fight somebody?”

“No, no, it’s fine. I’m not being chased. Not anymore. Not yet, I mean.” Bdubs walked over to the couch, and collapsed onto it. Despite his prior statement, he was clearly not feeling well.

What? “Okay…” Etho felt a stab of nerves in his chest. He sat down next to Bdubs. “You know, it’s actually pretty good that you came over. We need to talk.”

“Yeah. We do,” Bdubs said.

Etho instantly regretted that statement. The thing he was going to say suddenly didn’t seem nearly as important as whatever Bdubs was dealing with. “…Uh, should we maybe go visit the doctor’s? You-”

“No!” Bdubs interrupted Etho, grabbing his wrist. “We’re not going outside today, alright?”

Etho removed the hand from his wrist, and took a deep breath. Bdubs was making him nervous. Usually he was the paranoid one, and Bdubs was the one that gave him confidence; how the hell was he supposed to deal with this? “That statement doesn’t exactly make me more confident in your good health, Bdubs.”

“Look, Etho, I need you to tr-”

They both froze. What on earth? “How did you-”

Bdubs snorted. “Uh oh,” he said. “I’ve just messed up, haven’t I?”

“You…” Etho was flabbergasted. “Well, you did something, that’s for sure! How- I’m gonna need some explanations here.”

Bdubs closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. “Right. Explanations. It’s probably about time, huh?” “So, you know how I always say that my superpower is singing?”

“Yeah?”

“That’s nonsense. It has nothing to do with singing, that’s just a distraction. Really, it’s… I get nightmares.”

“Nightmares?” Etho said. “Okay.” That didn’t explain how he knew his name.

“I get nightmares that tell me exactly how I’m going to die that day.” “`nightmare’ isn’t the right word, really,” he continued. “Honestly, they might not even be dreams. Nothing unnatural happens in them, it’s just regular life. And then something- or someone- comes along and kills me. Or, in this case, kills us.”

“Oh,” Etho said softly. He grabbed Bdubs’ hand. “Why haven’t you told me about this earlier?”

“You would’ve laughed at me.” Bdubs looked at the wall as he spoke. He was still shaking. “A guy gets a bad dream every now and again, and thinks it’s a superpower?”

Etho shook his head. “I would’ve believed you.”

Bdubs turned to look at him. “Would you really?”

He didn’t respond immediately. Truth be told, he would probably be skeptical of this story, had Bdubs not started it by saying Etho’s name before he could reasonably know it. But Etho was skeptical of everything. If he decided he couldn’t even believe Bdubs, what would he do then? “I would have trusted your judgement,” he eventually said.

Bdubs didn’t respond immediately. He didn’t seem convinced, but eventually he spoke up: “Alright. Thanks, S- Etho.”

Suddenly, Etho felt another spike of anxiety in his chest. Right. Guess there was no postponing that conversation now. Bdubs chuckled weakly, apparently not seeing the worry on Etho’s face. “Boy. This was supposed to be your day, and I’ve really gone and made it all about me, huh?”

“I mean, we can keep talking about you if you want. I know you like to do that,” Etho said. “So, nighmares, huh? Can you tell me how exactly-”

“No.” Bdubs cut him off. “Listen, I… I really don’t want to talk about it. Not while it’s still… fresh.”

“Oh,” Etho replied quietly. He berated himself internally. Of course Bdubs wouldn’t want to go into details about their deaths. “Looks like we’re at a stalemate then,” he said. Because, truth be told, he didn’t want to talk about himself either right now. Actually, he kind of wanted to phase out and run off into the distance somewhere. Dream-Etho had made a mistake telling Bdubs, he must have. There was no way-

“Etho, I can see your mind freaking out just by looking at you,” Bdubs said, looking Etho in the eyes and smiling gently. “Come on. You really think I’m gonna stop loving you ‘cause you’re a guy?”

Etho let out a strained half-laugh. “I mean…”

“No!” Bdubs grabbed Etho’s hand with both of his, and leaned in closer to him. “I didn’t fall in love with you just because you were a girl. I fell in love with you because you were thoughtful, and smart, and competent, and had nice hair, and were you. And if a guy has all that, if a guy is you, I’ll love him just the same. C’mere.”

Bdubs wrapped his arms around Etho, who’s shoulders dropped as he reciprocated. He hadn’t even noticed he’d been tensing them. Etho leaned forwards as well, putting his face on Bdubs’ shoulder. Bdubs’ mouth was right next to his ear, so he heard him whisper: “And this isn’t the nightmare-brain talking. I said this exact thing the first time.”

Etho opened his mouth to respond, but no sound came out. He was shaking- or maybe that was still Bdubs. Maybe they were both shaking, and their relative moods would cancel each other out if they just held each other tightly enough.

Then, after a minute or so, Etho’s stomach rumbled. He lifted his face up again and slowly, reluctantly, let go of Bdubs. He suddenly felt a tear running down his face.

Etho chuckled as he reached out and wiped the tear off of his face. “You haven’t eaten breakfast either, huh? We should probably get on that.”

Etho giggled quietly. He was still a bit shaky, but feeling infinitely better than before the hug. “Wait, you left the house before eating breakfast? Wow, you must really be messed up today.”

Bdubs grinned, his typical wide grin which fit his bloodshot eyes remarkably well, in a weird way. ��Yeah. That proves it, huh?” he said, and then got up to walk to the kitchen.

Etho followed him, and grabbed two bowls to put cereal in. As the two of them were preparing their breakfast, Bdubs spoke up again: “You know, there’s something else I feel like I should say, about this.”

Etho froze, holding a spoon in mid-air. “And what’s that?”

“I saw this coming a freaking mile away.”

Etho laughed, dropping his spoon and turning to look at Bdubs. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah!” Bdubs said, laughing as well. “I mean, come on. The love of your life, who has a boy haircut and only ever wears hoodies says ‘hey, I want to be a boy, but only as a superhero!’ and- you know, I wasn’t born yesterday!”

Etho continued laughing. “I guess the signs were there, huh? Although you figured it out before I did if that’s true.” He chuckled. “Maybe you saw it in a dream, just like…”

He didn’t finish the sentence, and neither did Bdubs. Etho sighed. He had to say something, or this would eat at him. “Look, I know you didn’t want to talk about it but… if somebody if this city was going to kill us, I want to know as much about them as I can.”

Bdubs looked at the ground, and didn’t respond immediately. “I just- can we talk about it later? When my brain isn’t all messed up. Right now I just wanna… watch a movie, or something.”

“I don’t know if I can-”

“We started it,” Bdubs interrupted him. “We started the fight. That’s the important part. He’s not gonna come to us if we just… happen to stay inside today.”

Etho nodded. “Alright.” He tried to banish the worry from his mind. Taking a rain day would probably be good for their health regardless, honestly. “So what movie were you thinking?”

Bdubs shrugged.

“The A-Team?” Etho suggested.

“Oh, god. Just because you’re a dude doesn’t mean your taste in movies has to get worse, Etho.”

Etho snorted. He finished making his cereal, then moved back to the couch with Bdubs.

As Bdubs was flipping through channels on the TV, Etho stretched his arms, then laid one of them around Bdubs’ shoulder. “You know what, Bdubs?” he said. “We really are just two dudes hanging out now.”

“We are!” Bdubs responded, leaning his head back into Etho’s arm. “Two dudes. Etho and Bdubs. We can take on the world, you know.”

Except for what you saw in your dream… Etho shook his head. They were in mortal peril as superheroes all the time. They could take one day off from worrying about that side of their lives. For now, Etho was content to enjoy himself-- really enjoy himself, as he’d never been able to in his life—and enjoy Bdubs’ company.

#VIBRATES EXCITEDLY #arthropod writes #mcytblrholidayexchange2023 #ethoslab #bdoubleo100 #ethubs #last life smp #hermitcraft #trafficshipping #hermitshipping

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issytheamateurnerd · 10 months ago

Note

Hi Issy! For your Madeleine Timeline:

What was Madeleine up to during the Ambrose Island mission?

Thanks for the ask Mythy! I hope you enjoy this! Big thanks to @cajunandfire for helping me with this one!

youtube

Madeleine had a talent for finding places to hide. They were places where she could read or enjoy a nice view with no one ever knowing she was there.

This time she’d found a cozy spot under a balcony, behind the large electricity generator. Perfectly out of sight if someone were to pass by, yet still overlooking the vast Andaman Sea, with it's warm, salty breeze washing over her.

For security reasons, she was not allowed to interact with any of the ship’s crew. They couldn't know she was on the ship at all. However, staying in the dark quarters for an extended period of time made her nauseous.

She did feel a bit guilty for needing so much time to herself. It was overwhelming dealing with everything going on in the ship. The cramped space, planning for her father to infiltrate the Ark Society, and now having to take a detour to eliminate one of Grey’s ex-operatives. She was constantly retreating to her room or her hiding places to wind down.

Perhaps after years of living with her parents, she found it hard to fully trust her uncle. She was never really around other adults for so long, and they especially never knew her real name and identity, it felt like she was doing something wrong just by speaking to him.

Madeleine let out a silent sigh, allowing herself to melt into her book with the hum of the generator serving as white noise. She had found a way to avoid the arguing and stressful planning occuring within the ship's walls.

Perhaps this was her talent, finding peace among chaos.

That was until the slow hum of the generator abruptly stopped.

It hadn't been turned off manually, no one except her was anywhere near it, likely a malfunction.

After a few minutes, she could feel footsteps hurriedly approaching, it was Lucas's assistant, Ms. Hall.

She had barely seen Olivia, let alone spoken to her, after they met in Berlin. She spent almost all of her time with her computers, and Madeleine wondered how she wasn't horribly seasick.

Olivia mumbled angrily as she stomped over to the generator. Madeleine stayed quiet and watched her pull the cord in an attempt to restart it. When that didn't work she reverted to kicking it while swearing under her breath. Olivia hadn't noticed Madeleine sitting in the corner, and part of her didn't want her to notice. She had no clue what to say, so she said nothing.

The angry woman knelt down and pulled the generator’s panel open. She was less than four feet away from Madeleine, and yet as far as she could tell, still hadn't noticed her. Madeleine stayed completely frozen, wanting to see how long she could remain unnoticed.

Olivia dug around in the generator for a moment before ripping out the battery. After a quick examination, she tossed it aside.

“Hey, kid,” she barked, “hand me that battery behind you, this one's busted.”

Madeleine jumped and embarrassingly looked away. How long had she known she was there? Had she been trying to avoid her as well?

“The battery, behind you.” She repeated with frustration.

“Right, sorry.” Madeleine quickly tossed a bookmark in her book and grabbed the battery. It was heavier than she expected but she still passed it to Olivia.

“Thanks.” She grumbled.

She impatiently attempted to shove the battery in, but grew more agitated when it wouldn't fit properly.

“Ugh, come on! I don't have time for this.”

Madeleine stood, book still in hand, and peeked over at Olivia's attempted handywork.

“Fit! You stupid son of a-”

“You're putting it in backwards.” Madeleine commented.

“What?” Olivia turned to face her.

“The battery’s facing the wrong way.”

Olivia looked back and examined the battery. She was, in fact, trying to put it in backwards. With a soft blush of embarrassment, she rotated it. It fit perfectly with a satisfying “click.”

“Uh…thanks.” She mumbled, pulling herself up.

With a few pulls of the cord, the generator began slowly humming again.

“Maybe I have been working too hard,” Olivia sighed, “you’ve got the right idea, hiding away out here, it's nice.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” She replies somewhat awkwardly.

“What are you reading?” Olivia asked, glancing at the book in Madeleine’s hand.

“Oh, 1984 by George Orwell. It's kind of a comfort book for me.”

Olivia looked at her with a puzzled expression, “That's an… odd choice for a comfort book.”

“Well, I don't find the subjects comforting, but it's a story for me to get completely invested in. I think that's why I enjoy darker stories.”

Olivia shrugged, “Yeah I guess that makes sense.”

There was a short moment of silence between them, when Olivia suddenly said. “I could use a cup of coffee, do you wanna get something to drink?”

Madeleine was stunned for a minute. The two of them had barely looked at each other for the past few weeks and now she was offering to go hang out? She wasn't sure how to respond at first, but Olivia seemed genuine. What could it hurt?

“Yeah, that sounds nice.”

Olivia turned and left with Madeleine close behind her. The kitchen was just down the hall from where they were, so the walk was short.

“Do you like those Cassandra Snow novels? I feel like everyone's been talking about those for years.” Olivia asked.

“Ugh, not at all,” Madeleine replied disgustedly, “Dad had to read those for an assignment once but I could barely make it halfway through the first one.”

“What kind of assignment was that? How does reading a crappy book series help kill someone?” Olivia chuckled.

“You'd be surprised what comes in handy.” Madeleine replied vaguely. “One time he had to dress up as a clown.”

“Oh, I also know about that flamingo costume 47 wore back in Miami. I wouldn't have guessed that robot could be so amusing.”

Olivia huffed in laughter but Madeleine was silent. She avoided eye contact with Olivia even when they got to the kitchen. Madeleine sat by the counter while Olivia dug around in the pantry.

“Do you want some coffee?” She asked. Madeleine kept her eyes fixed on the counter and didn't respond .

“Hey,” Olivia snapped her fingers to get her attention.

“Don't….call him that.”

“Huh?”

“My dad, don't call him that.”

Olivia looked surprised, “Call him what? What are you talking about?”

Madeleine replied with a slightly more agitated tone, “You know, a robot. You talk like he's some kind of machine.”

Olivia bit her lip, “Look, I don't mean anything by it he's just…”

“Just what?”

“Oh come on, you know what I mean…emotionless.”

Madeleine crossed her arms, “It's not that he doesn't feel emotion, he just expresses it differently. He's still human.”

Olivia sighed and leaned against the pantry door, “Yeah, you're probably right. He's just so damn intimidating. Having him as a father must be terrifying, right? Hell, I bumped into him in the hallway and he looked like he wanted me dead.”

Madeleine’s posture relaxed, “Well, don't take it personally. He's like that with most people, but he's actually really sweet once you gain his trust. It’s just hard for him to open up to others, he never really trusted anyone other than my mom and I before you and Uncle Lucas showed up.”

“I guess I can understand that.” Olivia turned back to the cabinet and pulled a jar of coffee grounds out.

She prepared some water and started spooning the grounds into the coffee machine. “You never answered my question, do you want some coffee?”

“No thanks, I can make myself some tea.”

Madeleine moved to get up but Olivia dismissively waved her hand. “I can get it. We only have peppermint and lemon, what do you want?”

“Peppermint, please.”

She nodded and turned on the coffee maker. The kettle hand been left out from that morning, so Olivia filled it with water and put it on the stove.

“You know,” Madeleine began, “I could say something similar about Lucas.”

Olivia leaned on the counter. “In what way?” She asked.

“I just feel like he hates me. He's never rude or anything but the way he talks to me, or doesn't talk to me I should say, feels very dismissive. Although, I guess…I don't blame him for wishing I wasn't here.” Madeleine looked down at her hands.

Olivia sighed, “You definitely shouldn't take that personally. It's not that he hates you, he just…doesn't know how to except you, I guess.”

Madeleine raised an eyebrow, “What do you mean?”

“Well, think of it this way: Grey spent decades hunting Providence and tracking his long lost brother. The entire time he assumed his brother was alone, working for the ICA against his will, and killing to survive. Come to find out he's actually got a stable job, a girlfriend, and you. It's just jarring for him.”

This gave Madeleine a lot to think about. “I never considered that way. He must feel like such an outsider.”

Olivia smiled, “Give him time, he'll come around. Just know, he really does care about you. I can tell.”

A soft smile crept across Madeleine's face. Before she could say anything, the kettle whistled loudly at the same time that the coffee pot filled. Olivia turned of both appliances and poured the drinks into two mugs.

“I never liked tea that much.” Olivia commented. Even the caffeinated ones don't wake me up. It's kind of just bitter and boring.”

“Don't let my mom hear you say that. Tea is how we all relax after a long day.” she replied with a chuckle.

Olivia smirked, “Oh, right, the whole ‘British-tea-thing.’ I wouldn't want to get myself involved in all that.”

For the first time in weeks, Madeleine laughed. Suddenly she realized something. She was enjoying Ms. Hall’s company. Conversation came naturally between the two of them, and she found herself wanting to hang out with her more. It left a warm feeling in her stomach at the thought of them actually becoming friends.

Olivia handed her the mug of tea, “Here you are, your royal highness.” She said in an exaggerated British accent.

Madeleine laughed again, “Thank you, Ms. Hall.”

Olivia sat down beside her, taking a long sip from her coffee. “Please, my friends call me ‘Liv.”

Madeleine took a sip from her tea, a warmth filling her chest.

“Thanks, ‘Liv.”

#hitman #hitman fandom #hitman fanfiction #Madeleine Burnwood #Olivia Hall

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 2 years ago

Text

The Girl In The Net Part 8

The beach had been unbearably hot and eye stingingly salty.

The open ocean is mercilessly sweltering and salty to the point of tears. Salty to the point where even grazing her tongue over her lips leaves a taste upon it.

At least on the beach, Mai had an opportunity to retreat back to the luxuries of her home, or at least to a patch of shade beneath the palm trees.

This boat offers no such opportunity. The best she can do is steal away into the cabin and pretend like she isn’t trapped on a giant box with sails and a steering wheel.

If only she could be one of the seagulls–they can perch themselves upon the Blood Clam and then fly away at their leisure.

“I’m on a boat!” Tom Tom declares. “A real boat!”

He hasn’t sat down since boarding.

In fact, the boy has taken to exploring as many nooks and crannies as he possibly can within the shortest span of time.

He darts from one end of the ship to the other, leaving Dock hapless to catch him as he scours through trunks and drawers and narrowly dodges harpoons.

If only Mai had some of that enthusiasm for herself. As it were, she feels quite seasick. They haven’t even set sail yet and the unending rocking of the ship is already making her queasy. Not for the first time, and certainly not for the last, she begins to wonder if this is a mistake.

She should just go home right now and take whatever punishment her parents have in store for her for endangering both herself and Tom-Tom.

Mai waits for Tom Tom to zip by so that she can scoop him into her arms and end his reign of terror.

She certainly can’t bring herself to join Dock in the chase.

At least the old man seems humored by it.

“Oh you little rascal!” He declares, sending Tom Tom into a fit of giggles. “More elusive than those Dragon Kois!”

“Dragon Kois?” Mai speaks for the first time since boarding.

Hama nods. “They're the most notorious pirates in the Fire Nation. They’re so efficient because they’re one of the few willing to recruit earthbenders and waterbenders too. If you see deep orange sails, better to go the other way. Especially if you noticed a white winged koi embroidered onto the sails. You’ll be lucky if you never have a run in with them.”

“I tend to avoid orange and yellow colored things anyhow. They hurt my eyes.” Mai shrugs. “So which crew is June a part of?”

Hama flashes her one of those toothy grins.

“The Dragon Kois.” Mai grumbles. “Of course.”

.oOo.

Azula peers down at her hands.

It is still a shock to see the red gashes across her knuckles.

No one has ever hit her before, let alone whipped her.

She is certain that it is going to scar over.

At least she can say that June had been true to her word. She trails her fingers along the linework of the whip marks if only to take advantage of the use of her hands while she can. She imagines that it won’t take much to get June to revoke her unrestrained arm privileges.

She gives them a good stretch and audibly sighs at her new found lack of strain. She can feel the tingles of blood rushing down her arms and back to her hands. This isn’t so pleasant, it actually rather hurts.

But when the prickles and static subsides her relief is tangible.

She leans back, reveling in the sensations that she no longer feels. In the aches that are slowly working their way out of her arms and her tail.

She can’t say that her tail flicking is of the happy, excitable variety but it isn’t stress swaying either.

She draws her tail back up to her chest and hugs it.

She hears June sniff from across the room. “I never took you for being a cheerful type.”

“I’m not.” Azula replies. She supposes that her occasional continued tail swishes don’t do much to support her words.

“I suppose that I’ve gotten used to you sulking and frowning. Forgive me for mistaking this…” She gestures to Azula’s swishes, “for delight.”

“Oh don’t worry too much.” Azula mutters. “I’m still plenty miserable.” She folds her arms across her chest, resenting that small burst of joy that bubbles up at the prospect of being able to fold her arms.

That jittery burst of joy morphs and swells into a wave of anxiety.

Surely June is readying her whip to lash out at her for being sarcastic. Instead the woman kicks back in her chair and chuckles. “You do have a sense of humor, don’t you?”

Azula tilts her head. “I can’t say that I get my own ‘joke’. You see, I haven’t had many people to make jokes with; what was funny about what I just said?”

“The dry delivery.” She pauses. “Oh. Oh, spirits, you were completely serious.”

“About being absolutely miserable?” Azula nods. “Yes.”

“Okay but you were being sarcastic, yes?”

Azula frowns. She knows this game and she won’t play it. “You’re trying to get me to confess to something so that you have a reason to tie me up again.”

“I am not. I’d be more inclined to make a reason of your refusal to give me a straight answer to any of my questions.” June fiddles with her whip. Intimidation tactic or absent gesture, Azula’s heart still quickens.

“I was being partially sarcastic. You really don’t have to worry because I am perfectly miserable, just like you want me to be.” She shrugs. “So I don’t pose much of a threat, do I?”

June seems to ponder her words; at least she can say for certain that toying with the whip is simply a thoughtless gesture, likely as second nature as Azula’s own twirling of her bangs. Finally she rolls her eyes. “I don’t want you to be miserable.”

“You let me starve for several days. I am in a crate made for guppies.”

“It is bigger than that.” June counters.

“It is a crate made for baby tigersharks at best.” Azula dares argue. “I am significantly larger than a baby shark.”

June sighs. “Truth be told, we don’t have anything bigger. When we get bigger catches we usually chop them up and put them in storage for later. This is the best I can do. Your other option is to flop around on deck.”

Azula swallows. “You can let me go.”

“Not an option.” June answers in an instant. “The captain wants you here and I’m not about to start a mutiny over that.”

Azula’s face falls.

“I can possibly get you better food though.” She mutters.

Azula narrows her eyes. “Why the change of heart all of a sudden?”

June quirks a brow. “I still haven’t gotten a story about how you became a mermaid.”

Azula crosses her arms once more and sulks lower into the water with a slight pout. She supposes that some things will be left to mystery.

#Avatar The Last Airbender #Azula #Mai #Maizula #fanficiton #Mermaid

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