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greywritesthings · 10 days

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Weeks

Spencer Reid x F!Reader

Warnings - (fic based from Tobias Hankel episode) Drug use, torture, mentions of seizures / convulsions, drug use, panic attack, rage, crying, death by GSW, withdrawal

A/N - This is a vague enemies to lovers ig, I really do like it even if it doesn't deal with the nicest of topics, comments, reblogs and likes appreciated <33

Spencer Reid masterlist

Masterlist

“Can you just leave me to do my thing for ten minutes Reid!” You near enough yell at him but he still doesn't move, he hasn't said anything for the last half an hour, he's just been sitting a foot away from you watching what you were doing and it was driving you insane. “I haven't done anything y/n. I’m just thinking about what you're doing is all.” he shrugs at you. You just huff and spin around from the board deciding to step out for coffee. You stop in your tracks as Hotch enters the room and gives you a look before turning to Reid and doing the same. “You two need to get some air, go and interview Tobias Hankel, Garcia's sending you the address. Reid is driving there, Y/n you will drive back unless you come to an agreement without an argument, do I make myself clear?” His tone leaves zero room for argument so you just walk off to the SUV with Spencer in tow.

After a tension-filled drive to the address Garcia had sent you and Spencer to, you get to clamber out of the SUV and find yourself at the wooden cabin where Tobias Hankel apparently lived. Reid decides to split off to the barn he had seen while you went up to the main door and knocked where it took you less than two minutes to decide he was suspicious enough to bring in. When you tried to arrest him however he ran out the back before you got the chance. You take a chance and head out into the corn fields where you found Reid unconscious on the floor, head bloody but you noted he was still breathing as you spun on your heel. “You son of a bitch! What the fuck are you doing!” you yell. You reach down for your second weapon at your ankle, cursing yourself for leaving your first one in the SUV by accident but Tobias lunges at you from behind catching you off balance. It's a struggle when you hit the floor but he gets the upper hand with a piece of wood and darkness quickly overtakes your vision.

“Y/n, wake up, cmon” you hear someone whispering to you, not entirely sure who yet, the only thing you were sure of was that your head hurt like a motherfucker. You groan as you open your eyes. “y/n. I know you're probably concussed given the gash on your head but you have to focus sweets, with me, eyes open.” It's Spencer, he's calling you sweets? Well you must either be dead or pretty damn close. “He's taken us to a second location and shaken the police tail, he asked for directions and went the opposite way, we have to figure a way out of here sweetheart and I need your brains with me to do that okay?” you finally make eye contact with him, focused on him, he looks exhausted, you figure he's been through other things while youve been unconscious. Anything you were going to say was cut off by the sound of footsteps approaching and the look of pure fear coursing through Reid's eyes.

By the time that Tobias’s father was done with you it had broken spencer, his own torture was bad but hearing your own cries felt worse. You tried reciting bible scriptures you remembered to no avail, the beating just continued. He wanted a confession of sin and wouldn't stop till he got it.

Then he did, Tobias getting to take over and Spencer had to listen and watch as you begged him not to give you the dilaudid and then lose yourself to the high as it took hold. It pained him to watch, if he could have he would have thrown up. Somehow it all got worse, Spencer watched as you were forced to choose a person to kill, he hoped you were too high to remember it but really he could tell you were mentally present and it made his heart twist.

When the team managed to cut off the videos you were Charles's target, much to Spencer's dismay. He hadn't been through much in comparison to you at this point and he knew your body couldn't take another beating. He watches on with tears streaming down his face as Charles continuously hits you before shoving your chair backwards, forcing the chair to fall to the floor. He's forced to watch, unable to tear his eyes away as you convulse and eventually go limp, flatlining with Tobias trying to revive you. He has a small glimpse of relief when he is finally successful knowing you're still alive but it's replaced with dread at the fact that now you will be put through even more.

You were praying to every god you didn't believe in that Hotch got the message, you didn't have an eidetic memory but you knew the bible and you hoped that hotch would understand the misquote of genesis. You were so high at this point your brain felt like cotton and Spencer was forced to just watch on. You knew eventually Charles would have enough of you and end you in one way or another and you were right. He dragged you out to dig your own grave, threatening to bury you alive. He left Spencer in the cabin for now, you guessed he would deal with him later so it was up to you to save at least him if not the both of you if the team didn't get to you in time.

You saw the glint of flashlights before Charles did and managed to trick him even if you were high as ever, pulling his own gun on him managing to get a shot as Spencer, Emily and Hotch round the corner towards you. “Y/N!” Spencer cried out, you realised he thought you were the one shot. The three flashlights land on you looking like a deer in headlights as you knelt over Tobias's body. “Sup guys, kinda chilly out isn't it?” you let out a dry laugh, desperately trying to remove the horrified look from their faces. Spencer was the first to move towards you. “Come here sweet girl, come here, god i'm so sorry” He wraps himself around you. You know hes been taking the brunt of the mental torture the last however long so you let him, He practically holds you up as you lean against him. “You're going to be okay, we are going to be okay, I promise.” he whispers before he lets himself be slightly separated from you. Emily loops an arm around your waist as Spencer does the same so they can guide you to the ambulance waiting nearby.

–

It had been three weeks since you spent those five days of hell with Tobias Hankle and so far you were struggling, nightmares plagued your sleep and cravings plagued you when you were awake. You had managed to keep the bottles of dilaudid from Tobias's body. You knew sooner or later someone would catch on and you would be out of a job, your friends and with them your family. You would lose everything and everyone you loved if you didn't get a handle on it. Luckily you had another four weeks to kick the habit before you were back in the BAU, for now it was light paperwork at home when you could and the occasional conference call with the team so you weren’t isolated.

You were sitting in the bathroom with a new needle and a vial ready when three loud knocks sounded at your door, breaking you out of your trance. You practically fall over getting to your front door, withdrawals hitting hard from timing out the doses longer and longer. You knew you didn't look good and anyone would put you as an addict in withdrawal, you were biting at your nails, your pupils were blown out of proportion and you just overall looked a mess.

You manage to unlock your door after looking through the peephole and seeing it was only spencer. “Hey spence, what do you need?” You ask, hoping and praying it was just to borrow a book or a case file so you could get on with your task. He looks you up and down with a look of concern. “I need you to let me in, pack a bag and come stay at my house while you detox.” His eyes still show concern but his tone gives you no room for argument, but you try anyway. “I don't know what you mean Spence, detoxing from what exactly?” You try and meet his gaze but you're so antsy it's impossible. He places a hand on the door and pushes in past you and closes the door behind him, still gentle. “Honey, i know you took the dilaudid from Tobias okay and I know you’re addicted to it, you can't go into a rehab centre without losing your post permanently so your staying with me for the foreseeable, we have an extra four weeks off from Hotch so we have eight weeks to get you to functioning again. This is a non optional, so, tell me where it is before i go through your apartment myself. Please, let me help you.” He keeps a hard but caring tone and it forces you to give in, you know he's right. “Bathroom, Cupboard above the washer and in the copy of sherlock holmes with the orange cover” you look to the floor in pure shame. “Sweets, you don't need to be ashamed, it's not your fault, you didn't choose to be addicted, okay? It was given to you against your will, I don't blame you okay? I just want you back okay” He says as he tips your chin up, forcing you to look him in the eyes. He still doesn't look angry or disappointed, just caring. “You're going to be okay, you just have to let me help you. Go pack a bag while I clear out and we will go to mine okay? I turned the office into a guest bedroom for you.” and with that he turns away, walking into your kitchen. You take a second before your feet start to move on their own, moving towards the bedroom so you can do as he asked and pack a bag of things you would need to live at his for the next however long.

—

It had been two weeks and you felt slightly better. Your heart wasn't beating at a million miles a minute, your pupils were regular and you weren't sweating all the time and you finally had an appetite but emotionally you were still strung out. The cravings were still hard to deal with and it made you an emotional mess, one second you were fine then seeing red angry and that quickly turned into floods of tears but Spencer didn't once react to you. He just gave you coping mechanisms and comfort. He held you as you cried for hours on end every night till you fell asleep, if he left you he tucked you under a weighted blanket and left lamps on through the apartment so you could find his room should you need him in the night.

—

The team knew you were staying with Spencer, they didnt know why but they knew you were struggling, they assumed it was from the kidnapping, not the fact you had spent weeks addicted to drugs and so they assumed that you would appreciate them coming over to hang out, something that was a semi regular occurrence prior to the kidnapping.

Three knocks pull you and Spencer pulls from your activities, he was reading and you were tucked into his side drawing a mandala on a small art pad he had given you. “Were you expecting anyone?” you ask. “No honey and I'm guessing you weren't so I have no clue.” he says, the nickname easily slipping in place of your name now. You uncurl yourself as he stands up from the couch, going over to the door and looking through the peephole. “It's the team, you want to change?” he asks knowing that while you didn't really care how the team saw you you probably would mind them seeing you in just Spencer's sweater vest and a pair of boxers. You nod quickly and slip into your room as he unlocks the door greeting the others.

By the time you come out they’re all stood in the living room chatting between themselves seemingly waiting for something and you realise they're waiting on you. You feel their eyes on you as you walk in and then they all start moving and talking at the same time. Multiple forms of how are you and we miss you's getting fired your way. Before you can realise you're pulled into one pair of arms and then another as a third ruffles your hair. It's overwhelming and it makes your skin crawl. Your peace and quiet, the sanctuary that you had gotten used to in Spencer's apartment had been interrupted and you couldn't deal with it. You pry yourself out of the arms that had you trapped and bolt towards the nearest door, spencers room, directly down the hall, and slam the door behind you as the tears start to fall down your cheeks, sobs wracking through your chest as your mind races and the cravings come back full force again.

“Darling, I need you to let me in, they’re gone okay? Open the door for me.” Spencer asks quietly so as not to spook you, he was nervous for your reaction to the team and had tried to emphasise the point of not to overwhelm you but he knew they would get over excited and were used to you being very touchy so your reaction like this was out of the ordinary. You moved out of the way of the door and pulled Spencer's sweater over your shirt and curled up under his covers. Spencer decided to try the door and his heart melted at the sight, you looked peaceful, a stark contrast to the panicked look he saw in your eye earlier, similar to what he saw when you were with Tobias, it had hurt and he had nearly snapped at the team to get them out but Hotch and Rossi had ushered them out before he could, Hotch saying that you and spencer could take more time if you needed, the brass had already approved it alongside working from home for the pair of you. He crept over to the bed and got in, wrapping his arms around you as you nestled further into his chest, relaxing against him.

—

It had been twelve weeks since you moved into Spencer's apartment and you were over the worst of the cravings, the mood swings and irritability were almost non-existent but you now dealt with the anxiety of being asked to move out every night. You had gone back to work a week ago now and you and Spencer were on desk duty for another week for formality reasons. It was nice living with another person and it was even better that person being Spencer. Now you were getting better you had started cooking for him, often making dinner while he made you breakfast. You both went about your days naturally, you divided up chores without question and Spencer started buying your favourite snacks regularly when he went grocery shopping, something he refused to let you do when he found out that the fluorescent lights bothered you. You thought your fears were coming true when one night he called for you from the living room to talk.

“So, look I’ve been thinking about something and-” You cut him off before he finishes his sentence. “You want me to move back into my own place again? I can do that, I mean it's not like i can live here forever is it, this was just while i was in recovery and getting over the worst of the withdrawals, I can pack up over the weekend and be out by monday dont worry.” You rush over the sentence, tears filling your eyes as you stare at the couch. Over the weeks you had been living with Spencer you had realised that you had started liking him. You knew he wouldn't do the same, given the things he had seen in the last three months it was fair enough but being told to leave hurt nonetheless.

“This is the one fault about you, jumping to conclusions, now will you allow me to finish with words or can I just show you?” His words cause you to look him in the face with confusion. You don't get any more thoughts or words as Spencer's hands reach over to cut either side of your face and his lips are on yours, soft and vaguely unsure until you relax and push back, reaching to tangle your hands in his hair. After a minute you both pull away, “I don't want you to move out, the opposite actually, I want you to move in permanently” He says with a smile. All you do is nod, going in for another kiss with a smile.

Taglist: @reidstheyfriend , @oosnapitskat, @lover-of-books-and-tea

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yevmarie · 2 months

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Light My Fire | Chapter 7

Masterlist

< Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 >

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female Reader

Word count: 2.3k

Pronouns: you, she/her

Warnings: angst, mentions of depression, swearing, mentions of physical abuse towards other people, detailed description of typical TWD violence, differences from the main plot may occur, bad English (not my first language).

Taglist: @your-shifting-gurl @bae-live-0 @richardsamboramylove55 @deansapplepie @snailss @denisecabrera @dreamtofus @duckybird101

You were sitting near the tent, trying to occupy your mind with the book you had taken at the beginning of the outbreak when you left home. The novel was so good that you binge-read it after Rick got to the hospital. That was the only thing that distracted you somehow, almost the cure for the hours spent crying after calls with Lori, who always said the doctor's forecast had been discouraging.

Now, everything was different. Although you reunited with your friend, other things were bothering you. Thoughts rushed after every sentence being read.

Is Merle alive? Will the group come back? Should I tell everything to Rick? But that fucker Shane almost killed me today. Shit! The neck hurts so much I'd probably have bruises forming a 'necklace' in a day. Shane is scaring the hell out of me. Why is he doing that to me? Did I deserve it after all my love given to him? I think I deserve just nothing good. If any good is even left in this world…

You cursed to yourself, noticing that familiar Depression FM finding the 'right' radio wave in your mind. The host today is so cruel; he plays that shitty song with the lyrics derived from your brain. And that fucking cassette tape is broken, repeating every verse again and again. You knew what to do in such cases.

"Ms. Y/LN, there's one technique that helps to get rid of repetitive unhealthy thoughts. But it needs practice as any of them. So close your eyes and imagine a bus stop, some familiar one to you. Perhaps near your work. This must be the place you know well to add realism to your brain."

You put the book aside and leaned back on the tree to relax your body. You closed your eyes, took a deep breath, and imagined the bus stop near your office. This is a busy street full of office workers fussing around and cars honking.

"Good. Now imagine the bus you are waiting for."

You are standing in your uncomfortable office outfit, praying to catch the bus quicker and get home. And here it is!

"When it arrives, come up to it."

You make several steps, slightly losing balance as some teenage girl pushes you, aiming to get in faster than you to take a seat.

"The doors are opening, and you get in but notice one unpleasant thing… The people inside only talk about you. About your insecurities. They literally repeat your thoughts out loud, saying them to you in your face."

"You don't deserve love," an old grumpy lady says, looking at you with side eyes.

You take a step further, aiming for the part of the bus with fewer people, finding a man wearing total black: a leather jacket, jeans, massive boots, and bike gloves. He is saying nothing to you. He's not even looking at you, listening to whatever music is playing in his earphones.

"Love? Don't be ridiculous," the teenage girl who had pushed you before chuckled. "She just deserves nothing good."

Another step up to the man when he finally turns to you. Pale blue eyes, three-day stubble, a bit outgrown haircut, two cute moles on the face, one above his thin lips. Although his frame is wide and the outfit is brutal, he doesn't seem like that. He's calm.

"Daryl?" you whispered, standing up too close to him, the haunting scent mixed of his cologne, leather, and tobacco hitting your brain, sending waves of excitement through your veins.

"Yeah, talking about Daryl," a clerk sitting near you, reading a newspaper, caught your attention, "He thinks you are useless."

"Reckless," a woman cooing to her baby corrected the clerk.

"He talks to you out of pity," another voice said.

"He's not interested in you," added yet another.

All the hurtful voices meshed together, making your tears swell in your eyes. Daryl took off his earphones and passed them to you. You plugged them in and heard… Nothing! Except the silent echo of your heartbeat. You noticed people were still talking to you but couldn't hear them. Daryl cupped your face with his calloused, warm palms, still looking into your eyes. His gaze was calm, gentle, and loving. He leaned closer, narrowing the space between your faces, looking down at your lips; his breath tickled your sences as you savored the moment with anticipation.

"Ms. Y/LN, after hearing everything the passengers have told you, would you get off the bus?"

"No," you whispered, closing your eyes and feeling Daryl's lips touching yours in a sensual kiss.

FUCK!

You opened your eyes and threw the book away towards the tent.

"So, have I fallen for Daryl?" you asked yourself, desperately sighing, as surely daydreaming about the hunter wasn't planned, when suddenly you saw a familiar woman figure approaching you - Lori.

"Y/N, can I ask you to look after Carl and Sofia?" the woman's expression was concerned, obviously stressed out by something. You only nodded in consent, not wishing to talk, and stood up to go for the children. But your hope of no dialogue with the woman was dispelled in a second when she gently grabbed your forearm.

"We need to talk, Y/N."

"Enough talking for me today," you mumbled and stepped forward but were stopped again by Lori's touch.

"Please," she begged sincerely. "I… I'm really sorry for all that," her voice shaky. "I didn't know you still had feelings for him."

"You never asked," your response was just a guillotine, cutting off all potential reasoning.

"If you had only told me before… Perhaps I'd still be devastated, but I knew you were fair to me. And after some time, I'd accept it," you looked at your crying former friend and felt the pain hit your chest.

"Look, I'm not aiming to hurt you. Just trust me, it doesn't bring me any satisfaction. I'm not a monster. I just want to let you know I've always expected some tricks from Shane but not from you. Because you know what? I've always thought friendship is stronger. Love just comes and goes. But you betrayed me."

"Okay, okay," Lori nodded, sobbing, and was going to walk away, but you stepped aside and appeared on her way.

"I could overcome it and forgive you one day. But if Rick doesn't… He just doesn't deserve all of this."

"He'll never know," her answer outraged you. She was so sure you wouldn't tell Rick.

And honestly, she was right and wrong at the same time by saying this. You face the dilemma of telling Rick everything you know and destroying his family and friendship with Shane. Or you just step back and lose another close person like Rick because you'd not be able to even look into his eyes and act like everything is going fine and finally betray him by keeping silent. You didn't know what to do, and this tortured you.

"Then I'll just be nice to you for the love of Rick and Carl. I can't offer more; I'm sorry," you turned around and walked toward the campfire, leaving Lori alone. "I'll look after Carl and Sofia."

Hours later, when you were spending time with the children, the camp was shocked by another event: Shane beat up Ed after he hit Carol. You felt sorry for the woman and reasoned her to have her rest, though you had planned otherwise before, and took your duty to help in the kitchen and stew the squirrels for the group.

It was getting darker; the group was having dinner, but no one returned from the run to Atlanta. You saved the portions for the men and started cleaning the place you called the kitchen. You couldn't have your rest; otherwise, you would go crazy. Or eat as the food stuck in your throat again. Your nerves were being torn to shreds.

But Amy's wrenching scream cut off the silence you mistakenly considered agonizing.

"Walkers!" people yelled.

The chaos burst in seconds, resulting in fussing, cries, and shooting. The latter bothered you the most as it was uncontrollable, and you were scared to take a slug. You ran to the table and took a knife, scanning the situation around. Lori and Carl were hiding behind shooting Shane; that's good. You were looking for Carol and Sofia, who were near Shane as well but were more vulnerable to attack.

You were going to run to them but heard upcoming rasps just near yourself. Turning around, you stabbed the walker's head, hearing the gut-wrenching sound of tearing skin and breaking skull. The blood spraying on your face and the smell almost made you vomit. The body fell on the ground when another walker approached you, snapping its teeth and stretching its arms to you. You kicked it in the chest so you had more space for maneuvering, swaying your arm holding the knife to damage the skull of the lying dead.

You stood up, taking a deep breath and wiping the sweat off your forehead. Other shooting noises were reaching the camp. You heard Rick's voice calling his family when you fell, being pushed down to the ground. Your chest took a pasting by falling flat on the ground, and the air from your lungs was beaten away. You realized the snapping teeth were inches from your skin, so at least you needed to push it away from you to kill, but the body was so heavy you couldn't make a move.

Suddenly, you felt the weight above was lifted from you, thrown somewhere away, and shot, so you jumped out of your skin, instinctively closing your ears. Then, your body was lifted easily as if you were a featherweight. An arm tugs around you, pushing your back into someone's body.

"Ya okay?" you know this gruff voice.

You quickly nodded and squizzed his forearm, thanking god Daryl returned to the camp.

"Stay behind; it's clear there," the archer freed you from his hug and continued shooting the dead.

Several minutes passed when the last walker was down. You were panting, trying to catch your breath, and dropped to your knees as your muscles were aching. You looked back and saw Rick hugging his family. Carol and her daughter were safe, but the field around the camp was covered with dead flesh — the bitter payment for your close people to be alive.

"Y/N," you heard Rick approaching you, helping you stand up, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," you nodded, standing up, but your legs were wobbling, so the sheriff had to help you keep your balance by holding you by your back.

"Where's Merle?"

"He escaped, but we couldn't find either him or his body."

The hope died in your eyes, turning your gaze to as black as night.

"Y/N, can you tell me something?"

"Hm?" you hummed, fluttering your eyes open as if you were returning from a trance.

"Did Merle and you..?"

"No," you cut short his question and were trying to walk away, but Rick stopped you, standing next to you, gently holding your shoulders.

"Is it because of Daryl?" by an odd coincidence, the name mentioned made you stiffen so that Rick's touch read your tensity.

"What do you mean?"

"Do you like him?"

You stiffened even more, and the opportunity to lie about something faded. Considering you were talking to the sheriff, who was too good at reading people. Furthermore, when they were close ones.

"No. We just became friends," you put his arm aside, hinting you'd like to walk away. This dialogue was leading to some strange course. "Rick, I wanna sleep, let's talk tomorrow, okay?"

Your friend nodded and stared after you walking away.

"So, why do you sleep in Daryl's tent?" you stopped and turned around to the man.

"Because you got back, and there's not enough space for four of us."

"You had already moved to Dixons. There was no stuff of yours. Or you are a medium."

"Rick, is it cross-examining?"

"I just wonder why you behave so strangely. If you like some of the brothers, it changes everything. I'll insist on searching. If you don't have feelings but still hang out with them when your family is here. Then I assume you'd had some fighting with Lori and…"

"Hey man," Shane appeared out of nowhere, approaching Rick. "Let's discuss our plans for tomorrow. We need to do something with the bodies."

You mentally thanked your ex and quickly walked to the tent. Getting inside of it, you noticed the archer was already sleeping. Perhaps he was so tired he didn't give a damn where he was going. And at least it's his tent. You grabbed your blanket to move to Merle's, but Daryl's voice stopped you.

"Ain't sleeping. Get inside. It's better to stick together if another horde is coming. Not gonna touch ya," the hunter's sleeping voice made some magic to you as you got in and laid down back to him without hesitation. You covered yourself with the blanket, but it was too much already as you were flushed red, and all your blood was running in hot impulses through your body.

"Is it okay?" Daryl wanted to reassure himself you were fine with this.

"Yeah," you replied.

"So, if Rick noticed, then when will you accept you have fallen for Daryl, Y/N?" you told yourself and shut your eyes tightly as if it would help you fall asleep faster.

< Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 >

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immediatebreakfast · 11 months

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"Knowledge is power" you say and I believe it's becoming a big theme. Jonathan is sinking his nails into his sanity, vehemently refusing to lose it because losing himself (to insanity, to vampirism) is a horror greater than death to him. And his main weapon in this is to refuse to be in the dark. He must know the truth, instead of flee from it or deny it, gortesque even if it proves to be. The Castle is claiming his mind and his response is to explore every nook and cranny until he knows the enemy like he knows himself.

It's really a very noticeable theme, and it's one of the key parts that will help our characters against Dracula in the long run.

I have to make the comparison with another genre of book across the literary globe that have knowledge as a central theme.

The Lovecraft myths with their eldritch abominations also have the central theme of knowledge, but instead of presenting said knowledge as something hopeful to have (even if in the grand scheme of the universe is empty) knowledge is a curse. It's something that once the characters have, they wish to go back to their ignorance, all of the undescribed horrors that tell of incomprensible beings from beyond our stars open a new horrifying reality for these characters, one that they do not wish to understand.

Instead, here in Dracula, this novel regards knowledge as a precious weapon.

Jonathan understands that as a lawyer, and as a human being. Knowledge can help him understand, the written truth assures him that he is not imagining things. The broken door tells Jonathan, "Yes what happened was real, and you survived." And it gives him mental strenght to go another day.

Jonathan is feeling how his sanity is slipping from his fingers thanks to the castle, thanks to Dracula himself, so he must grab every piece of truth that he can find. Jonathan must know the Count's truth so he can act accordingly, he must know Dracula as if Dracula was him because it's the only way for him to know that he is still sane. That this knowledge can help whoever comes after him.

A really neat quote that I stumbled upon while searching for this really captured Jonathan's future, even if he might not be alive at the end of his journey.

"She will reenter the world carrying a heaviness she might never lay down, but also with something warm and steady burning in her, the knowledge of what she has survived, what she has become." - Chakraborty, A. (2021). Ode to the Gothic Heroine (A Selection).

Jonathan now carries the burden of knowledge regarding every oddity, and danger that Dracula presents from an outside perspective. Different, but not really from the ancient knowledge of the kind locals who tried to protect him from his fate, yet Jonathan doesn't shy away from that burden.

Knowledge is power, and power transforms the person into something not anticipated. It's the proof, and the reassurance of having something that can help, a little light in the middle of an endless cave. Jonathan is taking all of the information he can find, so that maybe he can transform the idea of escaping into something plausible.

Is Jonathan risking his own life by doing this? Of course he is! He is terrified of the outcome, of what the uncertain future holds for him! But, Jonathan is also gaining time. Moreover, with Dracula's new assigned "span of life", the Count has given Jonathan one of the most powerful weapons in the hands of a human, hope.

Now with the certain date of his possible, Jonathan can stop giving enough of a fuck about any pretenses of leaving the castle by the mercy of Dracula. Now Jonathan can hope to carve his escape with his own hands.

#Never NEVER has someone succesfully protected anyone by telling them nothing #If you want to understand if you want to prepare if you want to SURVIVE #YOU HAVE TO SHARE KNOWLEDGE EH YOU [Redacted for Dracula spoilers]#But yes basically knowledge is very important in this novel #Also can someone explain to me how the fuck Lovecraft managed to have those racist overtones that could put any bigoted writing to shame?#I was reading the fish people one and woah my dude relax for a fucking second (horrified)#dracula daily #dracula #jonathan harker

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jammed-out · 6 months

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Hypnovember Day 13 - Mind Fucked Out

(CW: dick growth, breast growth, ear penetration, magic transformation, light monster fucking)

Cold metal armor plates bounced against each other with each step as the Jayne made their way through the abandoned fortress. The sound echoed off of the cold stone walls that their singular torch did nothing to heat. The dampness hung in the air like a cold blanket clinging to every bolt and stone. They shivered, the torch’s heat not even managing to penetrate the cold metal armor that they wore.

They had found the abandoned castle while on a scouting mission for their guild and made note of it. However when nobody seemed to care to visit it, Jayne made a point to come back on their own time. So now, in the middle of the night, they ventured through the main tower. The grounds were clearly touched by a curse, whereas the rest of the wasteland swamp had been dead and decaying, the fortress sprung up rich verdant plants that grew along the walls, not a single leaf outside of the damaged walls. Even still, the wasteland was growing on the castle, cracks had formed in the walls, death and decay slowly stretching inward. Jayne knew it was better to not linger here, best to get in, get any magical items they could find and get out before the place came in.

The step beneath their right foot gave out, crumbling slightly. Their leather boot slid off the broken rock causing them to stumble. They slammed into the wall on their right to avoid a larger fall, metal plated shoulder slamming against it. The sound echoed off the silence. Jayne took a deep breath and steadied themselves using their free hand to push off from the wall. The cold seeped in through their glove chilling them to the bone. They quickly recoiled pulling their hand away.

Slowly they continued deeper down. The air felt colder the deeper they went but smelled less damp. It actually smelled sweeter, more like a ripe fruit. Jayne wondered what could be making such a smell in a place like this. They raised the torch higher above their head hoping to see further into the darkness.

As they rounded the last few steps, they came upon what seemed to be an antechamber. The close stone walls of the stair well expanded outward into large towering archways that stretched up above. Jayne raised the torch, the light barely illuminating the curved ceiling. Each archway formed into a bulbous domed roof. They let out a soft whistle, the sound bouncing around the room.

Jayne peered into the darkness, the arches seemed to stretch on and outward forming a large networking hallway. They sighed, it would take hours to search something this large. Instead they tucked one hand onto the hilt of their sword stashed on their left hip choosing instead to follow the sweet smell. It led them forward before sharply veering off towards the right, then to the left, then back to the right. Jayne was surprised, the scent seemed to be moving around the room. They made a mental note to remember each step. It would be harder to leave if they couldn’t, especially if there were dangers here.

“Sssssuch a pretty little adventurer. It has been ssssso long sssssince we could induct a new sssservant to the Velvet Fold.”

The voice echoed off of the ceiling. Jayne spun, sword raised in one hand, torch in the other. They waved it back and forth trying to illuminate the darkness. They couldn’t see anything but every so often they could sense shapes moving in the shadows. A brush of air. The smell would grow stronger flowing with it.

“The Velvet Fold welcomes all who wish to join it. Would you welcome its embrace?”

The second voice was different. It was softer, smaller than the other. Jayne didn’t know if it was further away or just from a smaller creature. There was definitely more than one thing here.

“Adventurer must welcome Fold. Must join us.”

That one was big. Possibly an orc or half giant. Jayne’s hand shook slightly. They shouldn’t have come here alone. They were very outmatched. Not only that but the Velvet Fold was extremely dangerous. They were a cult of savage worshippers that kidnapped and enslaved any who could be used as breeding stock. They ran across the lands reigning terror, or at least they had until they had been wiped out. Jayne had heard stories of the things they did. Suddenly they were terrified of what would happen if they were caught.

They turned quickly running. Their feet slammed against the ground thudding as they sprinted for dear life. They had to get out of there as fast as possible. They just needed to retrace their steps and they could escape. They wouldn’t go out adventuring alone. That’s why you have a guild to protect you from things like thi-

Their thoughts were cut short as their foot caught on something. Suddenly they were flying through the air, tumbling forward. Their chest slammed against the ground with a thud knocking the air from their lungs with a quick thud. Their sword slid across the ground into the darkness, the torch bouncing away. It dimmed with each thud, only a few embers burning gently in the darkness. Jayne scrambled forward, clawing with their hands to grab it. The fingers wrapped around the hilt, quickly coiling around it before suddenly feeling it slide away. Their metal plates scraped against the ground as something wrapped around their right leg, quickly pulling them backwards into the darkness. The light disappeared, swallowed up by the darkness as everything went black.

Jayne screamed and tried to kick at whatever was wrapped around their leg. It responded by twisting them sideways rolling them across the ground on their back. There was a flash of red light to their right and suddenly they found their wrists pulled together on their chest. An invisible chain wrapped around them tying them tightly together, a binding spell. It quickly pulled their wrists upward pulling their arms taught. It pulled tighter still dragging their arms up above their head. Slowly their body followed, pulled by their arms and the invisible string. They were tugged upward, stretching their body towards the ceiling. Their feet stood on the floor, just enough to prevent them from relaxing or dropping down.

“You will join the Velvet Fold. You will be welcomed in with warm and loving.” A voice whispered just behind their head. Jayne tried to turn but felt their arms strain at the effort.

“Do not sssstruggle. We would not like to ssssseeee you hurt yoursssself.”

“Please. Just let me go. I won’t tell anyone you’re here.” Jayne whimpered struggling against the invisible bonds.

“We would rather you did. We have been so lonely. Our lady in lust craves new followers. You shall be the first of many.” A pair of hands wrapped around Jayne’s body slowly sliding down their sides before coiling around their waist. “You will make a fantastic incubator.”

“Please. I don’t want this.” Jayne whimpered knowing that it was futile to fight them. It was too late for them. The monsters would have their way with them.

“Do not fear. We are gentle.”

“Yessss….Allow me to eassse your fearssss…” Jayne could make out a naga slithering into view. They slowly mouthed something, their hands glowing a soft green. They reached up and gently traced the edges of Jayne’s clothing and armor, the seams and pins decaying. The pieces of metal and fabric fell to the ground in shambles piece by piece. Jayne realized they were undressing themselves. The cold air slowly pushed into their skin causing their hair to stand on edge. They suddenly felt so vulnerable.

“You will be part of the Fold. Welcome the embrace of the goddess.” Jayne felt something cold press against the curve of their ass. It slid over the smooth flesh pressing between their two ass cheeks. It was slimy and squirmed against their flesh as if it was searching for an entrance. Jayne squeezed their eyes shut crying softly.

The object or creature, they couldn’t be sure slithered down, pressing against their asshole. It squeezed, forcing its way into the opening. Jayne felt something pop like a bubble. They felt fluid gush inside of their ass. It bubbled and gurgled, fizzing. Jayne could feel something in their stomach, like a bubble building. It grew, stretching upward. They felt so full as if they were going to burst. They tried squeezing to push it out and were rewarded with a loud pop. Something warm dripped out of them sliding down their legs. The air suddenly smelled sweet, like fresh fruit right after the harvest.

The snake person’s hands slid up caressing Jayne’s sides before sliding up onto their chest. The scales, surprisingly warm clasped their small chest, fingers toying with sensitive nipples. Jayne’s eyes rolled back in their head, pleasure radiating through them. “Are you sssssure they will be an incubator? I would perhapssss rather they breed me. It hassss been sssssooooo long ssssince I have been taken by the lady of lussssst.”

Jayne was barely aware of the conversation happening around them. Their nipples were radiating such pleasure thought their body. It was as if every nerve was suddenly connected to their chest. Each brush of a scale’s edge sent a shock through their body causing them to writhe in pleasure against the restraints. They could feel the wetness along their slit slowly build up into a single drop that fell down their legs.

“Need….” Jayne whined bucking their hips in the air. They needed to be touched. Their body was aching in a way that had never been felt before.

“They are ready. Prepare the crown of our lady. May it bless you with your true purpose.”

Jayne could feel a cold piece of metal place on their head. It thrummed with magical energy. Slowly it fit snuggly around their head. It pulsed, each vibration sending a wave of pleasure into Jayne’s body. They could feel it, like a heart beat. Their vision flashed with pulses. With each wave they could see in the darkness for a brief second. The vibrations creating a sort of outlined echo. There were dozens of shapes in the darkness, all looking at Jayne, all waiting for them.

Jayne cried out as they came, body shaking. They could feel the crown shifting, feeding off of them. Energy radiated out from it wrapping around them. Tendrils of magic snaked down caressing the sides of their face. They curled up trading around Jayne’s ears. Jayne wanted to protest but all that came out was a low whimper of pleasure.

The tendrils took it as approval and slipped inward. Jayne could feel their ears stretch as the phantom tendrils pushed deeper, stretching their head. Their eyes rolled back as they shook. Spit dripped out of their mouth as they gasped, their entirety suddenly penetrated. They felt a loud squelch as the tendrils popped in quickly smashing against their brain. Jayne groaned head falling forward as their legs spread. There was a magic building within them.

Signals of energy traced down their nerves, coiling, wrapping like energy. Their ass swelled, bulging, curving outward. Had they been wearing clothes, they would have exploded into shreds of fabric. Instead the flesh bounced, rising and swelling outward, muscle and fat forming and stretching outward. Their chest heaved, small flat breasts surging forward with momentum. Jayne could feel liquid swelling within them as they grew larger, heavier, pulling their chest forward. Small arms suddenly grew rich with muscle. Their wrists swelled to match, the magic ropes shattering instantly as their arms fell to their sides with a thud. They stumbled forward tumbling into the embrace of the naga.

Jayne’s mouth fell open as they slid down the body of the snake person. The scales left small cuts on the skin that quickly mended themselves. Their tongue shot out, quickly stretching longer. Jayne didn’t know how they knew, but they knew exactly what to do. Their lips quickly pushed the scales apart revealing the sensitive flesh hidden beneath. The naga hissed, their body shaking. Jayne’s tongue plunged deeper surging into the sweet depths within.

Deep inside their mind, Jayne was being overloaded with pleasure. They were aware of what their body was doing but had no control over it. It moved as if puppeted by their own desires or the crown’s. It was hard to know where Jayne ended and where the lady of lust began. Jayne could feel her voice, her touch as it guided her, awakening Jayne’s true potential. Jayne never know they were destined for such greatness, how so many were, their desires twisted and manipulated instead of allowing the Velvet Fold to run freely, embracing all who needed freedom. Jayne would help the lady of lust spread, the Velvet Fold spread once more, and in return, they would be free to embrace their pleasure.

The crown curled, wrapping around Jayne’s head, pulling. Something surged along the tentacles of magic. Pink magic surged out of Jayne’s head, pulsing up into the crown. The crowd cheered as Jayne felt a longing within themselves. They felt themselves stretch, swelling below. They could feel their insides twist, pushing outward, swelling forward. They leaned back gasping as from deep within their fold something burst out. A large throbbing cock, tapered at the head yet flared at the base. Jayne could feel more, horns, small ones bursting out of the top of their skull. The tentacles swelled brighter, rich pink energy pulling out of their head.

Blind lust filled them. Jayne became lost in the waves. It surged inside of their head, blind obedience, the Velvet Fold wrapping around their brain, flooding it with what was desired. Jayne gave into the desire. Lost within they would do what they must for the lady of lust. They would be the lady’s arch priest. They would do it with eagerness. They were the bearer of the crown, they must serve.

Jayne came, cock twitching wildly as cum erupted from the head. They could feel the crown merge with their horns, cold metal merging with flesh. The magic swirling into their very cells. They were the conduit of magic, they were their lady of lust’s vessel. They were the Velvet Fold, and the Velvet Fold was them. They could feel every orgasm from the crowd, their bodies shaking as they came.

Jayne smiled. The Velvet Fold must grow. They must spread their lady’s pleasure across the world.

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Hope you enjoyed that. I’ll be following @h_sleepingirl prompt list for the entire month because I really like a couple of the prompts on the list. You should also definitely check out and support them.

You’ll also be able to find all of my writings under the tags on my page. Hope you enjoy and see you tomorrow!

#brainwashing #mind control #mind conditioning #my writings #transformation #breast expansion #dick growth #hypnovember #jam out hypnovember #corruption kink #mind corruption

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pengychan · 24 days

Text

[Baldur’s Gate III] A Deal in Three Acts: Act II

Title: A Deal in Three Acts Summary: Weeks since Raphael took temporary residence at Sharess’ Caress, Haarlep is bored. Still waiting for Tav to take him up on his offer, Raphael is frustrated. Tav chooses an interesting evening to show up with a counter-offer. Characters: Raphael, Haarlep, Tav. Rating: Explicit Status: Complete

Act I here Also on AO3

*** Sometimes nice simple plans fall apart, but they can be salvaged with an incubus on your side. I think. ***

When Tav had left Elfsong Tavern to head for Sharess’ Caress, she had a plan.

A nice, simple plan, as Astarion had called it after they’d spent hours going through every detail of their counter-offer to avoid every possible pitfall. Two centuries since he’d last donned a magistrate’s robes, he still had plenty of insight to give when it came to binding contracts.

“I think I would have hated dealing with magistrate Ancunín,” Tav had muttered. Sitting on the tavern’s terraced roof to bask in the rays of the dying sun, a leg dangling off into the air, Astarion had laughed. He laughed a lot more lately, and it was good to see. In the days after they’d cut down Cazador Szarr, he’d seemed to emptied out that everyone at camp had worried. Now, finally, it seemed to have truly hit him - that the monster who’d taken everything from him was gone, and could never hurt him again.

Tav hoped to feel like that, too, and soon.

“Oh, most people hated dealing with this menace,” Astarion had said, gesturing to himself. “And our friend Raphael will be none too pleased by our counter-offer, I bet, but you must not yield an inch. He’s desperate for that crown, and while we have a backup plan, he does not. Our little, shall we say, requests are just trivial matters to the bearer of the Crown of Karsus. He has nothing to lose and everything to gain by accepting.”

“I suppose the clause binding him to limit his rule to the Nine Hells of Baator may be the main stumbling block.”

“Ah, but he already said he’d do that, didn’t he? He cannot refuse to put it on paper without admitting he lied. Of course, we’ll need the entire contract in a language we understand . And a copy for ourselves. I really can’t believe so many people keep doing that. Signing contracts in some language they don’t know, without even their own copy. Wyll was incredibly lucky we found a way to break his contract and save his father.”

“Not everyone’s a magistrate, magistrate.”

“That’s bloody common sense, darling. Now, let’s go over this again, just to make sure you didn’t forget anything…”

They did, and she hadn’t. Tav left the tavern before the last rays of sun disappeared beyond buildings, taking care to speak with no one else. She knew all too well that most of her companions would disapprove, to say the least - Karlach and Gale most of all. But this was for their sake, too.

If everything went as planned, if she could get Raphael to accept the counter-offer, they would both be free of the ticking time bombs in their chests. And of course, Tav would get a shot at seeing an Archdevil die.

The Hells were the Hells; it did not matter to her what devil ruled supreme over it all. She’d gladly hand Raphael the crown and all her own magic on top of it, if it meant she could see Zariel dead and broken, a charred husk among ruins like… like…

“I’m not going to give you a lecture about revenge, because you deserve it as I deserved mine,” was the last thing Astarion had told her before she left. “But they’re dead and you’re alive. Take the blood you’re owed, but keep your life.”

“Is that a very long-winded way to tell me to be careful?”

“I say it a lot better than you do, my friend. If you’re not back by morning, I’ll come looking. You can be certain I will. But I’ll be cursing you the entire way there and back.”

Tav, who’d planned to be back long before morning, had nodded. A simple goal, a simple plan. Nothing was going to throw her off course; she told herself as much while going up the stairs, opening the door, and stepping in the room.

Then-- well, for all her grim determination, the sight had sort of thrown her off. You can never be completely sure of what you’ll see when walking in on a devil, but Tav had no trouble admitting that ‘Raphael fucking himself in the most literal sense possible’ was not among the possible scenarios she’d thought up. She hadn’t meant to make noise, either, but she had and all things considered, it had been a blessing in disguise.

Had the incubus not helpfully introduced themself to her, she might have assumed that the Bhaal cult’s shapeshifters were taking an entirely new approach since Orin’s demise, and she might have attacked. Needless to say, it would have made the situation quite awkward.

Well. More awkward.

“Why don’t you join us, little mouse? Get up close and discuss to your heart’s content. I won’t interrupt. I’ll just be doing my thing.”

“Haarlep--” Raphael tried to speak, his voice strained in a way Tav had never heard it, and even that attempt broke up into a groan when the incubus thrust upwards. It was, pun intended, one hell of a sight: Raphael’s naked body on the lap of an incubus who looked almost exactly like his cambion form, his thighs spread open and chest heaving with ragged breaths.

And Tav she knew a chance when she saw it. She couldn’t have dreamed up an occasion like that, with Raphael that vulnerable, barely coherent . Plus, no matter what Astarion said - she was very much not made of wood. When she met his eyes, clouded with lust as they were, her next words came out in a husky murmur. “May I, Raphael?”

A wordless groan, all his eloquence gone, but it was the only answer she needed. His chest shuddered under her touch and oh, he was feverishly warm, skin glossy with sweat. Beneath her palm, his heart thumped wildly. Tav leaned in, and pressed her lips against his throat. She felt him swallow, and smiled. Her own breathing came a little faster, too. “Tell me what you want.”

“The crown--” he tried, only for an especially clever twist of Haarlep’s hips and to turn the words in a whine. The incubus caught Tav’s eye over his shoulder, and grinned. If they knew what she was trying to do, one thing was clear: they had no intention to stop her.

Good.

Tav pulled back, and tilted Raphael’s chin up. She ran her thumb across his lips, her other hand trailing down his chest, down his stomach, coming to rest on a trembling thigh. “Yes,” she said. “It would look good on you. I want to give you that crown. So you can see all the devils of Baator bowing to you - that’s what you really want, isn’t it?”

“I--” he groaned, dropping his head back against Haarlep’s shoulder at a well-timed tilt of their hips. His hands clenched on sheets. “Yes,” he breathed. There was something else to his shaky voice, a need, a hunger that could never be sated. It sent a shiver down Tav’s spine, more heat pooling in her loins. It was getting really, really warm in that armor.

“You want to see them kneel, don’t you?” she whispered, and finally took his cock in her hand, her touch light, to trace a vein with a nail. “You want to see everyone kneel.”

Raphael’s hips shuddered, and he couldn’t bite back a cry. “Yes,” he managed, and Haarlep laughed.

“Oh, this one,” they said, grinding up into Raphael. “I like her.”

Somehow, Raphael managed a scoff. “You like-- everyone, you insatiable--”

“That’s patently untrue, my pet. I don’t like you, for one.”

The response made Raphael scowl, and wrinkle his nose. He wrinkled his nose a lot when annoyed and it made it somewhat difficult to take him seriously, power of the Hells and all. Tav smiled, and leaned in, almost close enough to kiss him. She did not have Yurgir’s keen sense of smell, but there it was, just like he’d said - the scent of cherries and musk beneath the lingering sulfur. Her voice had always been a little too rough to sound truly sweet, but she did her best to soften it. “Do you want me to kneel for you, Raphael?”

He didn’t answer, not with words: he tried to lean forward instead, to catch her lips with his, to grab her and pull her closer. Tav was fast enough to pull back, though, and the incubus’ hands grasped Raphael’s wrists, snake-quick. Haarlep laughed at the frustrated noise that got out of him, and thrust upwards into him sharply, biting into his shoulder in the same motion.

“Behave, little brat,” they purred against his ear. “She asked you a question, it’s only polite to answer. With words. Do you want her to kneel for you?”

If Tav could bottle the moan that left Raphael then, and sell it, she’d be able to buy the Gate and everyone in it ten times over. Maybe there was a way to do that, really, but working it out would have to wait. Right now, she had a more urgent matter to take care of.

Well, two urgent matters. There was the contract, too. She probably shouldn’t forget that.

“What did you say, pet? I couldn’t hear a yes or a no.” The incubus grinned, delighted, and bit into his shoulder again. Raphael cried out, wordless, but he managed a nod and Tav supposed she could go with that. She placed a kiss on his shoulder, just below the bite mark, and knelt between his trembling thighs. Up close, she noticed the ring at the base of his cock for the first time. She tilted her head, running a finger down the length.

Well, look at that. He wasn’t getting to come anytime soon with that thing on.

“Believe me, you’d have missed all the fun if I hadn’t put that on,” Haarlep almost sing-sang, and let go of one of Raphael’s wrists to grab his face, forcing him to look down. Tav lifted her gaze to see his eyes on her, his lips parted and face flushed, Haarlep’s claws pressing mercilessly into his cheeks. The incubus in question smiled over his shoulder.

“Do you know what he sees when he looks at you? He’ll never tell you, but he told me. I can make him tell me everything,” they cooed, and silenced Raphael’s attempt at a protest with two fingers in his mouth, pressing down his tongue. Raphael made an indignant noise, but his body remained flush against Haarlep’s chest, his eyes still fixed on Tav, wide and dark and hungry. “Can you guess?”

Great, so this was a guessing game now. Tav raised an eyebrow. “A rodent of small size?” she ventured. The incubus’ smile widened.

“His kingdom, that’s what he sees. He looks at you, and he sees his crowning glory.”

Well, fuck. That sure did something to the pit of her stomach and a little below that too. Gods was it hot in there. “Ah,” Tav said, and her voice cracked just a touch, but she managed to catch herself. She had to keep some measure of control if she was to negotiate, because Raphael’s helpless state would do her no good if her brain also turned to mush. So she steadied herself, and locked eyes with him.

She was beginning to feel decidedly overdressed, and her own face was burning, but she held his gaze as she took hold of his cock and leaned in to press her lips on the side of the shaft in a soft kiss. Raphael keened around Haarlep’s fingers, hips shuddering and back arching. The incubus laughed, and thrust up again - hard - to tear another cry from his throat.

“Ah, now we’re talking. You’re so much more fun than usual, my little brat,” they said, soft, almost affectionate. They snuck their free arm around Raphael to pull him back against their chest, pinching a nipple. “But oh, aren’t we terrible hosts. I should have told you to make yourself at home, little mouse. Feel free to slip out of that armor. It looks so uncomfortable.” A pause, a tilt of their head. “And unflattering, if I may.”

Tav allowed one more kiss on the inside of Raphael's thigh and stood, just a little unsteady. She began undoing the clasps with a huff. “The point of an armor isn’t to be flattering,” she muttered, letting the parts drop on the floor and trying not to look in Raphael’s direction just yet. “It’s to keep pointy things from skewering you.”

“Oh, then you should definitely take it off now.”

“... Guess I walked into that one.”

The last of Tav’s underclothes were dropped on the floor, and only then did she look back at Haarlep and Raphael. The incubus had pulled their fingers out of Raphael’s mouth and was smiling, eyes running over her body. Not a lot there for them to see, to be entirely honest; she’d always been about as shapely as a wooden board.

On one of the last nights they’d spent together, Misza had joked that she had curves enough for them both, and pretended to smother her against her breast. They had laughed like idiots, and that was when Tav had decided she should put a ring on it, before someone else snatched her up. And she’d been snatched all right, but down, down into the Hells along with the entire city and--

A lump threatened to form in her throat and Tav forced it away, pushing memories of better times in the back of her mind, where dead things lingered amidst the ruins of Elturel. Dead, charred things. Her mother and father and all her little siblings, and the woman she’d wanted to propose to once she returned from her time in the countryside, where she had gone to learn how to better control her wild magic.

But she’d returned to find a crater where Elturel once was; while the city re-emerged from the Hells in the end, many of its inhabitants didn’t live to see the sky again. She had buried the only body she could recognize, her youngest brother with his owlbear plush toy still in his arms. Then the ring meant for Misza had been sold for passage to Baldur’s Gate and she’d left, long before the surviving citizens cast out all remaining tieflings among them.

“Are you well, little mouse?” Haarlep’s voice snapped her out of it, and they spoke slower, their gaze more focused, a hint of a frown across their features.

Tav met their gaze, and smiled. She had plenty of reasons to smile. They were all gone, but she was still around and so was Zariel, who’d had the city dragged into Avernus. Zariel, who would never surrender her throne without a fight. Zariel, whose days as archdevil would be numbered if Raphael got his way - and he would, as long as she could secure a few clauses. She’d happily be the key to Raphael’s future kingdom, then.

After all, he was her key to Zariel’s bloody demise. It was a fair exchange. He just didn’t need to know that.

“Just admiring the sights,” she said, and looked back at the devil she was getting to know a damn lot better than before. Raphael had shut his eyes, brow furrowed and breathing fast, clearly trying to regain some semblance of control. And that, she knew, would not do. The less in control he was, the more chances she had to turn the negotiations her way.

So she pushed aside hesitation, strode to the bed, and tilted up Raphael’s face. He blinked his eyes open, as though startled by the touch, and swallowed. “The crown,” he breathed, and Tav smiled. Her other hand went down to her folds, two fingers slipping in and coming out slick and glistening. She pressed them to Raphael’s mouth and he parted his lips to let them in, eyes falling shut with a shiver. His tongue felt too warm, too, and Tav licked her lips.

“Yes,” she rasped, pushing him against Haarlep’s chest. The incubus leaned back, arms braced on the mattress behind them, and Raphael could only tilt back against them, groaning at the shift of the cock inside him. Tav straddled him, letting his erection barely brush against her labia, just enough to let him feel how warm she was, and how wet. His breath hitched, eyes fluttering open, and she smiled again. “Let’s talk about the crown I’m going to place on your head. I’d like to see you with that on. Just the crown.”

A hand through his hair, the press of lips against his own, and Raphel’s hands gripped her sides hard enough to bruise, pulling her flush against him, chest to chest. She blinked, taken aback, but then she felt him part his lips to let her tongue in and ah, may as well. She kissed him, more roughly and a good deal more enthusiastically than she had originally planned.

“I think he likes us,” she recalled Astarion saying, and she recalled her reply just as well.

"I like him too, but I'd never say it to his smarmy face."

Well. She was not saying anything of the sort, and he didn’t look all that smarmy anymore, so her point still stood. She heard, dimly, Haarlep’s throaty chuckle.

“This one’s eager, pet. Didn’t even need my saliva to help along.”

There was something that sounded very much like a growl deep in Raphael’s chest, and he pulled away from Tav’s mouth to turn and snap at Haarlep to be quiet. Or try to, because it took the incubus only a jolt of their hips for his words to turn into a moan.

“You be quiet, little brat. You’re no one’s master tonight, remember?” they whispered against his ear, and smiled at Tav over his shoulder. “I am very pleased to make your acquaintance, by the way. I’m always telling Raphael he should introduce me to his friends more often. Alas, he expressly forbade me to play with you. Never seen him get this jealous.”

“That’s not--” Raphael gasped, and Haarlep silenced him with a few swift thrusts. Still straddling Raphael, Tav grasped his shoulders to avoid being thrown off; his cock rubbed against her folds, only for a moment, but it tore a gasp from her and a moan from Raphael. He dropped his forehead against Tav’s shoulder, gasping, and Tav cupped the back of his head without thinking, stroked down the back of his neck before she finally, finally , allowed herself to sink down on him.

“Oh…” A sigh, and she closed her eyes, taking a moment to savor the feeling, the stretch. She was wet and he slid in so easily, so deep. Was it supposed to feel that warm? Was it a devil thing? Did it matter? Probably not; it felt good either way. Against her skin, Raphael let out an incoherent noise and grasped her again, pulling her close.

Don’t worry, I’m going nowhere, she almost said, but what left her mouth was quite different.

“This is going to be quite a tale,” she groaned, her voice rough, and rocked her hips. “That I bedded the archdevil supreme. No one’s going to believe me.”

A shudder, and there was no telling what had caused it - the heat of her around him, her movements, or her words. Either way, he pulled back enough to look at her. There it was, in the midst of pleasure - that hungry look again. “You shall give me the crown,” he rasped, and Tav smiled.

“I want to give you the crown just as much as you want to put an end to the Grand Design. But like you, I have conditions.” A kiss, deep, a slow tilt of her hips. Haarlep moved again beneath them, inside Raphael, and somehow it was easy to match their movements, find the right rhythm. Raphael’s breaths came in shuddering gasps, but he did not call for either of them to stop. “So I have come with a counteroffer.”

A scoff. “There is no counteroffer to be-- made,” he groaned through clenched teeth.

A smile, a kiss. “You forget,” Tav whispered against his lips, rocking slowly, “that I have a backup plan, and you do not.”

“Trusting-- ah-- an Illithid is no plan. It’s sheer-- ngh-- idiocy.”

“Ah, but I thrive on idiocy. Idiocy got me this far.” She stilled, clenched around him, and muffled the noise that got out of him with another kiss. “It might just carry me a little further. If the Emperor can help us destroy the Netherbrain, with or without Orpheus - and you know he can - then we’ll have no reason to give you the crown. Why risk it all without hearing me out?” A light bite on his lower lip. “You’ll find my requests more than reasonable.”

Raphael scowled, but he tilted back his head against Haarlep’s shoulder, and closed his eyes. When she leaned in to nip at his throat, she felt him swallow. “... What are your requests?” he finally groaned.

Well, this is it. Best to start small.

“There are two requests that you can satisfy with little more than a snap of your fingers, I’m sure. Two of my companions carry their doom in their chests. I know that with the Crown of Karsus, you can remove the orb from Gale quite readily - and without harming him. And someone capable of creating the Orphic Hammer surely knows how to fix an infernal engine so it can work on this plane without killing its bearer.”

A low, breathy chuckle. “Of course. These will be trivial matters to me.”

“So is that something you’d be willing to add to the contract?”

“Consider it done. Will that-- ah-- ” Raphael trailed off for a moment, trembling, before he caught his voice again. “Will that be all?”

“Not quite. I want to make it clear that no soul but mine will be involved.” She ground against him, hard, and grasped his chin to make sure he’d look at her. His eyes opened, wide and dark, to meet hers. “The crown for the hammer, and for your help for Gale and Karlach, with my soul - mine alone - as the collateral if I fail to deliver the crown. If I deliver it to you, as I intend to, my soul will remain my own.”

Tav watched Raphael’s brow furrow, watched him think it over with as much difficulty one can experience while being fucked by an incubus and a woman at the same time, and finally watched him jerk his head in a nod. “Yes, that is-- ah-- reasonable,” he panted. His hands ran down her back, down her sides, and stopped on her thighs. “Will that-- be all?”

“Not quite.” A kiss, rough. “Another collateral seems fair. You said you’ll limit your rule to the Nine Hells of Baator.”

“And I shall,” Raphael replied, trying to bite her lip, but she was too quick to pull back. She smiled, brushing a hand down his chest, down his stomach, almost to the point where their bodies joined. Her fingers brushed against his shaft, causing him to shudder.

“I want that in writing, binding you to relinquish the crown’s ownership to Mystra if you break the clause.”

As she had very much expected, Raphael stilled beneath her. He glowered, anger crossing his features even through the daze of pleasure. “No,” he all but growled, and seemed about to add something - but Haarlep rocked into him harder than before, Tav clenched around him, and his voice broke into a groan. Haarlep winked at her; it cost Tav some effort not to openly smile back.

If she succeeded in her mission, she would probably owe the incubus a favor. Oh well. Something could be worked out, surely.

“No?” she repeated, all fake innocence. She cupped Raphael’s cheek, looking at him in the eye. Her thumb brushed over his lips. “But you have already pledged to keep to the Hells. Putting that in writing should be no trouble at all. Why would it be?”

Because he’d had no intention whatsoever to be true to that pledge, was the obvious answer, but it wasn’t something he could admit without showing his hand. She knew it, he knew it, and he was livid about it.

… Not livid enough to push her off him, however. She took note of that while waiting for a response. She watched him clench his jaw, then make an effort to smooth his expression.

“It rather hurts,” he rasped, voice so low, “to see my word doesn’t carry enough weight for you.”

Tav couldn’t hold back a chuckle. “No one’s word does.” She leaned in to kiss the bridge of his nose. “ Verba volant, scripta manent. You of all people would know what that means. You’d be a poor devil indeed, not to take advantage of the lack of a written clause. I’d be disappointed if you didn’t at least try, and you have never disappointed so far.”

He still scowled, but when she pulled back he reached to grasp her head, to pull her mouth back on his. It was a rough, devouring kiss - the first such initiative from his part - and she yielded to it immediately. She sighed into his mouth, wrapped her arms around his neck and tilted her hips again, pressing him down on Haarlep with her meager weight. She swallowed his groan, and shuddered when he bit into her lower lip - not hard enough to draw blood but oh, almost. For a few moments all she could hear was his panting breath, her own thumping heart, and the slick noises they made as she rocked against him again.

And then, finally, a groan. “... Very well,” he rasped. “It will be clearly stated in the contract--”

“Which will be written in common tongue,” she cut him off. “For me to ready before I sign. With a copy for me to keep.”

This time, she felt the frustrated growl in his chest more than she heard it. His hands, which had been going down her spine, stilled. “Infernal contracts,” he bit out, obviously short on breath, “are meant to be written in Infernal. It’s very much in the name, little mouse.”

Tav leaned her cheek on his shoulder, and bit at his earlobe. “A certified translation, then, with witnesses,” she panted. He felt hot to the touch and so did she, unbearably so, skin slick with sweat. Still she pressed her face into the crook of his neck, breathing him in. Cherries and musk, yes, and despite the lingering sulfur it was sweet, sweet, intoxicating. Pressure was building up, white-hot. She had to bite her lower lip not to moan. “A-- and a clause that makes the contract null and void-- if the translation differs in any way,” she managed.

Another groan, part frustration and part arousal, as he shuddered beneath her. “This is-- not the norm, with any contract--”

“But this isn’t any contract, Raphael.” She pulled back, despite the tight grasp around her, to press a kiss against his lips. “This is the one that will make you the archdevil supreme of all Baator.”

“I’ve extended-- more than enough grace--”

“I only want guarantees for what you already promised.” Tav cut him off, and smiled against his lips before pulling away, arching her back. To her satisfaction, Raphael had to bite his lips to silence a moan. She placed both hands on his chest, and rocked her hips. She was close - Gods, was she close - and he was still hard within her, so warm, unable to finish.

“Contracts can be changed, if both parties agree,” she managed through ragged breaths. “The ruler of all Hells may yet convince me to revise it.” Absolutely not, but you’re welcome to try. If I truly can take that crown from a Netherbrain I’ll be able to take it from you, if I must. “And you’ll have plenty of time to do so. I’ll come to the Hells and join your war.” Let me be the one to cut down Zariel, and I’ll follow you to the Ninth. “We can make-- a separate contract, if you like. I won’t leave until I see you sit on Asmodeus’ throne.”

For a moment, Raphael truly seemed at a loss for words. He stared, eyes wide, as though struggling to make sense of what he’d just heard. Even his grip on her hips slackened. “You-- I--”

“Oh, please let her come over. She’s fun. We could use some fun.”

Haarlep’s voice caused him to recoil, as though he’d somehow forgotten about their presence despite the cock buried inside him. Though come to think of it, Tav hadn’t felt Haarlep move for… several minutes, at least.

“You-- this is none of your concern, incubus-- and why did you stop? ” Raphael bit out, turning to glare at the incubus in question. They were leaning back on their elbows, head tilted, and grinned widely before thrusting upwards in a smooth motion. Raphael shuddered, and pressed his mouth against Tav’s shoulder to muffle a groan.

“Ah, my apologies. The two of you were such a fun spectacle to watch,” Haarlep muttered, and sat up, chest once again pressing against Raphael’s back. “You want to finish, don’t you, little brat?” Another upward thrust, another moan against Tav’s skin. “Then wrap up the conversation, pet. It’s impolite to keep a lady waiting for an answer.”

A growl, and Raphael lifted his head to look Tav in the eyes. Shortly after their first meeting, she recalled Gale claiming he’d seen a spark of Hellfire in his eyes. She’d thought he was just being dramatic at the time, but now, up close… oh, she could see it too, and more than a spark. It made her breath catch, pleasure coiling in her loins. Her grip on his shoulders tightened when he spoke, his voice low.

“... Very well. But you will get me that crown, little mouse. If you refuse, I will have your soul. If you fail to get it for me and die, I’ll still have your soul. Am I clear?”

A nod, a shuddering breath. “Yes,” she managed. “That sounds-- ah-- fair.”

“We have-- a deal, then,” Raphael breathed, and Tav claimed his lips again. Negotiations concluded, she could finally let go of the last shreds of self control and ride him in earnest, grinding hard against him. Her ears were buzzing and all her limbs felt so heavy and so light all of a sudden, her body flushing hot and cold at the same time.

Distantly, she heard Haarlep laugh, and Raphael cry out. She couldn’t even begin to imagine how that had to feel for him, with both her and Haarlep moving fast and hard, around him and inside him, keeping him trapped between them as they took their pleasure, unable to move and helplessly feeling it all.

Later, Tav wouldn't know for how long it went on. Too long, probably. Not long enough, surely. She teetered on the edge of orgasm and she was sure she’d break, but she did not. Or at least, she was not the first to break.

“Haarlep--” Raphael cried out against Tav’s neck, and something suspiciously like a sob wracked his body; the face pressed against her skin felt too wet for it to be just sweat. The incubus let out a low, rumbling chuckle. Tav felt their hand slip between them, down Raphael’s stomach and then lower, the back of it barely brushing against her as the fingers toyed with the ring at the base of Raphael’s cock.

“You want it off, don’t you, little duke?”

“Yes-- yes-- ”

“Beg.”

Another sob, and something dripped down Tav’s neck, down her shoulder. Raphael’s arms were gripping her tightly, as if he was desperately trying to ground himself to something. “Please,” he choked out, and somehow the desperation in his voice was what finally pushed Tav over the edge.

The orgasm was almost blinding, mind-numbing in its intensity, wave after wave of pleasure up her spine. She clenched around him and shuddered hard enough she almost thought, for a moment, that she might seize and die. What a way to go, she thought, barely coherent, holding onto the only Raphael for dear life. A hell of a way to go. If her heart stopped now, she wasn’t sure she’d have complaints.

She never had to find out, though, because her heart did not stop. It kept beating wildly in her chest when her shudders died down and she went limp against Raphael, panting, head spinning. Against her ear, Raphael keened.

“Please!”

A chuckle, and now even the incubus sounded breathless. “Good boy,” they said, and reached down again. Tav did not see or feel what they did, but suddenly the ring was gone and Raphael muffled a cry against her, his entire body shuddering. And maybe it was her mind playing tricks on her, but Tav could have sworn even his come felt warmer than it had any right to be. She clenched around him reflexively, still mostly spent, and Raphael trembled before he, too, went limp.

“There, little brat. Take it,” Haarlep was murmuring, and thrust their hips upwards one last time before stilling and closing their eyes with a long, pleased sigh. “Oh, this was so much better than usual…”

They said something else, probably, but Tav was beyond hearing it. She must have blacked out, or something like it, because it felt as though she’d only blinked and then she opened her eyes to find herself leaning on her side on the bed, empty and panting, a sticky and cooling mess on the inside of her thighs. She was vaguely aware of the fact Haarlep was sitting at the foot of the bed, saying something about the pool in the next room; but she didn’t look up, couldn’t lift her head.

And neither, it seemed, could Raphael. He was still holding onto her, face wet and burrowed against her throat, breathing ragged. His frame trembled; she reached to brush his hair back without thinking, nails scraping gently against his scalp. She wasn’t sure how long she did that, mind empty of all thought, but eventually their breathing slowed, his trembling subsided. Her fingers tangled once more in Raphael’s hair and did not move again. He remained still, too, his breathing slow and steady against her skin.

Tav closed her eyes, and let herself fall into nothingness. Somewhere in that darkness on the brink of sleep she saw the Crown of Karsus on Raphael’s head, saw Zariel’s broken body at his feet, saw her head in her hands.

And she smiled.

***

[Back to Act I]

[On to Act III]

#bg3 #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 tav #bg3 raphael #bg3 haarlep #tiefling tav #female tav #raphael bg3 #deal in three acts

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cobalt-knave · 1 year

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Supernatural Fiction Podcast Recs

Happy halloween! I wanted to put together another rec list to get out today.

Supernatural fiction includes some fantasy, some horror, and something all on its own. Here is a rec list of some audio dramas I enjoy in this genre.

The Antique Shop

The audio journal of Maya, a university student who takes a job at an antique shop. The shop contains strange and magical and cursed items. It also contains Madam Norna, who can help people with supernatural problems but there is always a cost, and the Madam must work with fate and not against it-- something Maya doesn’t agree with. There is also a great enemies (or acquaintances with animosity between them) to friends relationship that makes me happy.

What follows is the strange stories of those that come to the shop and the slow corruption arc esque change as Maya becomes closer and closer to Fate and the role of the Madam.

The Bridge

Watchtower 10 sits in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, keeping lonely watch over the Transcontinental Bridge. Our main character Etta broadcasts stories, often strange, that happened on the Bridge. Meanwhile, some of her backstory begins to be revealed, and the sea creature in lower level 3 has people coming after him.

Etta and the other people who work at Watchtower 10 are all delightful characters.

McGillicuddy And Murder’s Pawn Shop

The podcast is set in 1921 taking the format of the diary belonging to Melinda Maudie Merkle. Maude has a terribly boring life as a typist, and one of her only sources of joy is going every so often to a pawn shop, McGillicuddy & Murder’s. One day, she comes across a broken piece of china with a blue eye on it. After coming home with the eye, strange things begin to happen, and she finds herself immersed in a world of wonder and horror and magic. An adventure, at last. Though perhaps not quite how she imagined it.

A lot of healing into a new person, leaving behind bad relationships, and surrounding one’s self with trusted friends and community. And, of course, adventure.

The McIlwraith Statements

15 years after the fact, Sarah McIlwraith is making her statements regarding the infamous IPP study. The IPP study was a psychology-focused scientific study into mediums, hauntings, and the paranormal. It lasted three years before it was revealed to be a hoax, ruining the careers of those involved. Sarah was a phd student working on the study. But here is the thing: the study never found anything, but Sarah has always been able to see ghosts. And many of those haunted locations were indeed haunted.

Sarah is a great character, and the stories she tells are all very interesting as you hear about how the study worked, the ghosts she met and helped, the mediums that always seemed to be faked. Meanwhile, Sarah is looking into the mysterious funding the projects got, which keeps a good meta plot going.

Kane and Feels

Lucifer Kane and Brutus Feels, paranormal investigators. These two are chaotic, absolutely insane, and fantastic. Great use of narration with both characters alternating narrating. They are buddies, your honor. Horror! Weird things! Dream logic! If it’s a demon, Feels will probably punch it. The little one helps, and the big one makes tea.

The Hidden People

More on the urban fantasy side than the horror side, this podcast follows Mackenna Thorne. It’s very self-aware and has a lot of fun bringing in other genre bits (the hacker, the funny guy, a fair amount of Buffy references I enjoy immensely). Mack’s parents are murdered, apparently by none other than Mackenna Thorne. As this mystery unfolds, a world to the hidden people (the unseelie court) is opened.

Mack has such an incredible character arc.

There is a demonic narrator who is constantly amused by everything the characters do wrong.

The Mistholme Museum of Mystery, Morbidity, and Mortality

Let the AI Audio Tour Guide take you on a tour of the museum. Hear the stories - some horror, some soft, some strange, and some tragic - of the various exhibits. If your Audio Tour Guide is behaving... strangely, you should deposit your audio device in the nearest incinerator.

The Audio Tour Guide gets so much character development, and it is an utter delight.

Beware the man with a voice like honey and chocolate and coffee all at once.

Jar Of Rebuke

Dr. Jared Hel works at the Enclosure, which studies cryptids (for lack of a better word). Jared works there after having amnesia, and he only remembers the past two years. And always wears a key on a necklace. They have one skill that makes him very useful for studying cryptids: he can die and revive.

#pod recs #pod rec #jar of rebuke #the antique shop #the mistholme museum of mystery morbidity and mortality #the hidden people #kane and feels #the mcilwraith statements #the bridge

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yaboyhoney · 1 year

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Okay just read Self aware swap!Submas x reader. I need a part 2! I wanna know what happens next!!

Yaay i'm so happy you liked part one! I had a lot of fun writing it <3

Self aware reader x submas part 2

You were quite puzzled when the twins appeared before you, each character identical to one another in almost every way with the exception that one wore a white shirt and the other wore a black shirt. It didn't seem to help much that their immediate reaction was to run around you in circles like a happy bunny; you weren't quite sure what to make of this. But you at least knew their names since they were the main characters and hesitantly you try to talk to them. "Emmet...and Ingo?" Your eyes widen when you hear the elated shrieks of both men and realize that the voices are coming from the farmer players.

The twins themselves are unaware of what happened to you and instead think they came across a cutscene with you. Which is unexpected, your cutscenes are limited to when you first meet the twins and when you give them train rides. For them to see you in the village square is very unusual since there wasn't even a festival happening at all, those are the only days you don't work. You stood there, still baffled at the situation, leaving the impression that the cutscene was lagging. You could hear the whining protests of Emmet, "Nooo, Ingo the game is freezing." Game? Was this a game? What kind of sick game is this? You turn to see the other villager npcs and note that they don't react to you at all but only the twins do. Why are things like this? You didn't even know what a video game was! You try to talk to them again, to see what happens. "Hello boys, this is...rather unexpected, isn't it." Though you're talking, you're trying to directly talk to the voices behind the screen. "Oh, the cutscene continues. Bravo!" This voice comes from the player character Ingo. By now you've heard both the twins talk, but you didn't quite understand what they meant by the word "cutscene." Was that important?

You didn't want to draw any suspicion just yet, fearing that if they thought the "game" was broken, they'd take your sentience away. Which was conflicting, knowing now that what you knew, your whole life was simply some fabrication. You were a piece of a game, meant to entertain others. What did it mean if you stopped being entertaining? You stop and glance at the mountain, where your train station is and back to the twins. You felt so fatigued from all of this. "You'll have to excuse me boys, I'm afraid I only came down here to look for something." "I wonder what it was?" Ingo ponders out loud, to which you answer back. "I'm afraid I can't tell you just yet, it's much too dangerous of a secret. I'm worried you two won't react very well to it. Maybe in due time, you'll know." You sigh, not entirely certain of what you could do next. Maybe your dark tome would have the answers as to what happened? Or was this another curse subjected to you? You simply didn't know. "Aww, boo. Secrets," Emmet whines. You couldn't help but to let out a small laugh at that, to which the twins finally saw your smile for the first time. "He's so cute!" Ingo elates as his brother agrees. "Yes, secrets are necessary at times. I hope you'll forgive me." You knew for certain that the twins were your only connection, to whatever real world was out there. You were going to need to keep interacting with them to understand what was going on. You dug into your pockets and pulled out two train tickets. "The station will be closed today, there are some things I must investigate. But here, For your troubles." You gave a ticket to each twin and stepped back. "I'll be taking my leave now. Goodbye." You then began to walk away, but the twins began to follow you, talking loudly to each other, speculating what you could be investigating. You wish desperately you could just tell them already but it seemed too ridiculous to be real, you needed their trust. You entered inside your train station and locked the door. The twins never entered inside your home before, since there were limitations to the actual game, but you could once again hear Emmet booing in protest, gently yelling, "Let me in! Let me in!" You let out a breathy laugh through your nose and sat back down on your desk, to try and find a possible answer to all of this in your book of evil. It lead to your sentience and maybe, in due time, it could lead to your freedom as well.

#pokemon x reader #submas x reader #nobori x reader #ingo x reader #kudari x reader #emmet x reader #pokemon emmet x reader #pokemon ingo x reader #pokemon nobori x reader #pokemon kudari x reader #my writing

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malleux · 10 months

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freedom. | surviving fimbulwinter [I]

[main page] | [t.o.c] | [spellbook] | [ << | >> ]

young adult!atreus x reader

-> synopsis: The only times you had ever experienced adventure was through your books. It was hard to live an exciting life while trapped in Alfheim.

You know you're meant for something greater than wasting away underground.

[loosely based on the events of Gow: Ragnarok]

-> chapter warnings: all chapters may contain spoilers, violence, sparring, cursing

You sat on the couch, pouting and pressing a chunk of ice against the side of your thigh. One of the dwarves— Sindri, you learned— paced back and forth in front of you.

"You better hope that doesn't get infected! None of us have any knowledge of healing, though we could make you a prosthetic should your leg rot off—" Sindri rambled.

"Ew, can we not?" You cringed at the thought, "It's already bad enough I literally got stabbed, I don't want to imagine any worse right now."

"Well, you shouldn't be sneakin' up on people!" The blue dwarf— Brok— huffed from his workbench.

"I said I was sorry! I forgot I was invisible."

"A likely excuse."

You threw a glare towards Brok, who definitely was choosing to clean off his knife in front of you on purpose. Sindri, on the other hand, had chosen to make his way back to the large cauldron beside the fireplace. He grabbed the ladle and stirred before stoking the fire.

"In any case, Kratos and Atreus should be back soon. They went out to collect supplies before they leave tomorrow, so once they're back we can all have a nice talk."

"Yeah, about how the Hel you appeared out of nowhere, and how you think it's acceptable to scare the Tatzelwurms out of us."

A few hours had passed, and you were still icing your leg. You'd just started a new book, Rare Fighting Spells, when the front door seemed to throw itself open. You jumped, watching as an incredibly muscular man walk through the door. Behind him was a boy, possibly close to your age. This must be the two Sindri was talking about.

They both eyed you, taking their things to Brok to mess with.

Sindri clapped his hands together, "Wonderful, everyone's here! It's time for dinner!"

———

To say dinner was awkward would be the understatement of the year.

You all ate silently— everyone sneaking glances at you while you tried to think of how to introduce yourself. Eventually, you coughed and sat up straight, putting down your spoon. Everyone else followed.

"I suppose I need to speak."

Brok huffed out a “You think?”, earning a side-eye and a kick under the table.

"My name is Y/N, and I just escaped from Alfheim. I don't know how I successfully got here, but Brok and Sindri found me. And then stabbed me—"

"You scared me!"

"—I did. But thank you guys for saving me." You tried to smile at them, but it was more of a grimace. "Any questions?"

"Lass, why were you in Alfheim in the first place? Don't you know there's a war going on?" The decapitated head asked with an accent way stronger than what you were expecting.

"I- uh, lived there?" You felt weird talking to it, "My father is a Dark Elf. My mother is mortal, but she died when I was born. Before the war, my father hid me underground, away from the other Elves. They hated me because I didn't look like them. Eventually, when the Elves began using the Light of Alfheim and all of the Dark Elves went underground, I was trapped even further and locked in my room.” You sighed, folding your hands on the table and gathering the courage to continue.

“Today, I decided I wanted to get out, so I learned a spell to make myself invisible and escaped. The Mystic Gateway was broken, and I tried for a while to fix it, but it wasn't working. That's when it started to fix itself, and Brok and Sindri opened it up from the other side. I snuck inside, and went to talk to them, but I forgot I was invisible, and— yeah. You get the rest."

The head hummed. You were sure if he could nod, he would. "I see. I'd heard a rumor once from Alfheim about a mixed breed, but you know those Elves. Squashed the rumor quick. They don't like anyone getting involved in their business. I suppose the rumors are true, then.”

You agreed, taking a sip of water from your cup. "I'm sorry to intrude, I just saw an escape and went for it."

"What's your plan now?" Sindri asked.

"I wanted to explore the realms, but I guess with the Gateways being broken I'll have to wait. Maybe I'll find a way to Midgard and build a life there—"

"You could come with us!"

"Atreus."

The boy who offered, Atreus, slumped down for a moment, only to perk back up quickly. "Father, c'mon. Y/N wants to see the world, we could use another helping hand, why not?"

"We do not need another helping hand." His father seemed to mock, "We are fine the way we are. How do you know she could even help?"

"I could spar with her? And you watch?" Atreus offered, looking at you for approval. You, on the other hand, were just confused.

People just fought for fun? You were always told it was solely for your survival. That's why your father never trained you as much as you asked. If you were to spar against this boy, you'd for sure lose. You secretly hoped his father would say no, but he huffed and stood from the table.

"Meet me outside."

You watched him leave the house with wide eyes, and once the door closed you turned back to Atreus. "Dude, what? Why would you do that?"

"Uh, because it would be cool if you came with us?" He quirked an eyebrow, seeing nothing wrong.

"I haven't fought in Hel knows how long. I'm going to embarrass myself—"

"Kratos doesn't expect perfection." Sindri tried to reassure you, "But if you show promise and try your hardest, I bet he'll be a lot more lenient than you think. Especially if Atreus is nagging him."

"I don't nag him!" Atreus argued, standing from the table. You followed.

"What do you call it? Wearing him down?" Brok cackled as Atreus led you outside where Kratos was waiting.

———

"Ready, go!"

Atreus ran at you first, swinging at you with the wooden part of his bow. You stepped back a few times before rolling to his side and landing your foot into his ribs. He stumbled and coughed for a second, but recovered quickly as he notched an arrow.

In return, you grabbed your spear that all Dark Elves use for combat and aimed it towards him. As Atreus shot his arrow, you retaliated by shooting a small energy beam out of the spear, burning his arrow in its path.

You hadn't used the spear in ages— since your father quit teaching you— so you felt a bit rusty. Nevertheless, you couldn't let that trip you up.

You didn't want to hurt him, so you charged at Atreus with the non-sharp side of the spear. Atreus used his bow to block, and you were left pushing against the wood in a battle of strength.

Atreus was stronger, eventually shoving against you and forcing you back. He notched three arrows at once, unleashing them as you sidestepped two of them. The third grazed your bicep, but you couldn't even feel it with the adrenaline in your veins.

Being part Dark Elf gave you a lot of agility, and even without wings it felt like you were flying at times. You hated to admit that you were enjoying fighting— it gave you a feeling of freedom you'd never had before.

You jumped back, away from your opponent, and cast your spear out in front of you. Red spots began to appear on the ground around Atreus, and one by one they began to detonate. Bright light surrounded the outside, blinding those who looked too hard. While Atreus was weak, you took the advantage.

Quickly, you charged again, sticking your spear between the wood and string of Atreus's bow and throwing them both to the side. Atreus barely recovered enough to block your fist, his forearm pushing it down before trying to retaliate with a hit of his own.

He landed the hit on your jaw, but you couldn't flinch. Not in the middle of a fight. You jumped back again, waiting for him to charge. He did, and you were able to initiate your plan.

You swept your leg out, taking his own out from under him. Atreus gasped and fell forward, knocking you down in the process. You yelped, the weight of the boy on your stab wound becoming incredibly painful.

"Alright, truce! Ouch—" You rubbed your leg as Atreus got up, holding his hand out for you. You took it and he helped you stand.

"Y/N," Atreus began, "That was so cool! Your powers are just like a Dark Elf's, you even have the spear—"

"Enough." Kratos silenced him, walking up to you and sizing you up. He towered over you and quite frankly, it was very intimidating. You were already shorter than Atreus, you didn't need to feel any smaller.

Kratos stayed quiet for a while, seemingly weighing his options and looking back and forth between you and his son. "We leave tomorrow morning. Decide whether you are coming or not."

You and Atreus watched as he disappeared back into the house, before looking back at each other.

"Did you hear that? You can come!" Atreus grinned at you, "We'll have to pack you some supplies, and get a bed for you here— there aren't any extra rooms, but my bed is small so we could put another one in my room! That is— if you're okay with that, of course. Nords, this is great."

You couldn't help but smile at Atreus's enthusiasm. It had been a very long time since you'd been around someone so positive— since you and Fritjof were young.

The thought of Fritjof make your heart feel heavy, but you brushed it off and paid attention to Atreus. Because of him, you'd finally get to experience the Nine Realms. "I can't wait.”

By the time you and Atreus made it back inside, the dinner table was already cleaned and Sindri was walking by with a blanket in his arms.

"Ah, there you are." He approached you and held out the blanket for you to take. "We made you a bed, but you don't have your own room. Not yet anyways, but if you wanted one I'm sure we could do it. Anyways, you'll be staying with Atreus, and we'll pack you a bag for tomorrow with all your stuff and more. If there's anything else you need, give us a call."

You were stunned. Never before had some random strangers shown you so much kindness. It was enough to make your eyes water a bit. "Sindri, thank you." You held the blanket to your chest. "Honestly. That all means a lot. I should be alright, thanks to you all."

Sindri's eyes softened at you, "Of course."

You turned to Atreus, following his lead as he heads to his room. It's small, but enough to fit two one-person beds on opposite sides of the walls.

You sat on one of the beds, slightly bouncing on it to test its comfort. Acceptable.

Atreus, taking the other bed, set his weapon down beside it before laying down and staring up at the ceiling. It was quiet for a moment, and you began taking your shoes off to lay in the bed.

"Was it hard?"

You paused. "Was what hard?"

"Leaving." Atreus turned to his side, facing you. "Leaving your father and everything you'd ever known."

"Well, all I'd ever known was the same four walls of my room." You laughed dryly. "I left my father and one friend, but my father didn't seem to care for me too much and my friend had just betrayed me when I left."

"They did?" Atreus propped his head up, more interested in the conversation.

"Uh, yeah." You shrugged, getting under your own blankets and facing him. "Didn't approve of me wanting to leave. They all thought me hiding away was for my own good, but I'd been trapped there for 19 years. My entire life. I couldn't stay forever."

"19 years." Atreus mumbled, then said louder, "I'm older than you."

You couldn't help the grin that came across your face, and you rolled your eyes. "What, by like a month?"

"Nope," He popped the 'p', "I'm 20. Though father sometimes thinks I'm still 12."

"Dads, huh?" You joked, "I think they just want to protect us from how harsh the world is. No matter how much we disagree."

"You have no idea." Atreus agreed, "I love him, I just wish he'd let me do more. At least now I don't have to hide too much from him, since I convinced him to let us search for Tyr tomorrow."

"Tyr?" Your eyebrows furrowed, "Tyr's dead. I read about his entire story not too long ago.”

"I don't think so! I saw it in a prophecy— Tyr is leading an army against the Aesir during Ragnarok. Since Fimbulwinter is happening, that means Ragnarok will soon. There's no way he's dead if he's leading an army in the future." Atreus explained, "That's why we're going to find him. We're heading to a city in Svartalfheim tomorrow to talk to someone Brok and Sindri recommended. They said he might know where Tyr is."

You shook your head. "Wow. That is... a lot." You yawned, trying to hide it. You were still interested in the conversation, but today's events were wore you down.

"Isn't it? I'm excited." Atreus yawned as well, "The only way it'll come quicker is if we're asleep when time passes. Let's go to bed."

"Yeah. Goodnight, Atreus."

"Goodnight, Y/N-" Atreus began, but you were already knocked out. He smiled slightly to himself, secretly glad to finally have a companion his age join the group. All of the adult nonsense got tiring.

Taking one last glance as you slept, Atreus turned around in his own bed and fell asleep.

[ >> ]

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126dvtn · 2 years

Text

the taste of early autumn. [2/3]

summary : a day of cooking with your partner, scaramouche.

cw : minor injury ; scara is protective & still a very good chef ; unsafe back hugs ; reader is a thembo (i’m projecting)

genre : fluff ; domestic

series : main dish [kuri gohan] ; side [ebi no tempura] ; dessert [hojicha latte]

there are three main steps to making ebi no tempura- settling the shrimps, preparing the batter, then frying the battered shrimps.

scaramouche and you can very well split these tasks to speed up the process. he knows that, yes, but he insists that you do everything together. perhaps, you think, he wants to spend more time with you. on the other hand, however, perhaps he just doesn’t want the kitchen to burn down. either way, you now stand beside him, staring down a pot of large shrimps that are staring back at you.

step one ~ shrimp management.

“[name], listen closely to my instructions. i will only say it once.” that’s a lie, you think to yourself, you always repeat instructions for me. which is true- considering he’d just helped you with the chestnuts twice despite saying he’ll only do it once. but you listen nonetheless.

“before frying the shrimps, we deshell and devein them.” he picks up one of the shrimps and starts to demonstrate. his hands are ever-so-gentle as he peels off its shell and leaves only its tail. he looks at you, expectant, waiting for you to signal to him that you understood. you smile and nod. he then grabs his knife and slices through the shrimp’s back, pulling a long, black string out of it.

“deveining is tricky- you must be gentle with the vein, or else it will snap.” he demonstrates this with a snap! of the black string he just pulled out. “got it?” you nod again. he hums in approval and passes you your blade.

deshelling is simple. an easy job. you complete it under a minute- your record broken for anything related to cooking. but now comes deveining. you’re not so proficient with the arts of the sword- much less a knife. you hold up the shrimp and start positioning your newly acquired blade. and there it is. a problem.

how the hell am i supposed to hold this thing?! you think, inspecting the shrimp for even a tiny hint to help you. it stares back at you- almost as if it could telepathically tell you the answer, but chooses not to. oh, the disappointment from a dead crustacean.

you turn to scaramouche, who has- oh my archons- deshelled and deveined five shrimps already. you tell yourself what he would tell his subordinates at work- pick up the damn pace. the waiting shrimp seems to be telling you the same. so you hold it at the tip of your fingers and move your knife through it- a journey so smooth that it cuts right through the shrimp... right into your hand. red seeps into the greyish-pink of its flesh.

“um... scara?” you call out. he hums in response, hands moving speedy as ever. “do shrimps... bleed?” your voice is weak, soaked in guilt. scaramouche whips his head towards you- his shrimp dropping onto the table. he snatches your hand, grip on your wrist so tight your hand becomes lax, causing the bloodied shrimp to fall.

his intense gaze alternates between your injury and your face- almost in disbelief. but you’ve seen that look before; it comes when you gasp a curse, it comes when you shout his name. it came earlier when you were learning to peel chestnuts. it’s worry. scaramouche is worried for you.

through his worry, he pulls you- drags you- into the house, and brings you to the nearest faucet. while his actions are vehement, his hands are not- they are careful, tender even, as they wash your blood off your hand. “stay here.” he leaves swiftly and returns swiftly, with an ointment and a cloth in his hands. he opens the bottle of ointment. “wait, scara,” you urge, “should we do this outside? can’t leave the food unattended...”

a faint smirk paints your lover’s lips. “finally found your brain, huh, sweetheart? let’s go.” an odd compliment for sure, but that’s just how scaramouche is. you follow him out the door.

once out, he sits you on the patio and tends to your hand. “i’ll deal with the rest of the shrimps,” he says while pouring ointment on your wound. you wince at the sharp sensation. “you’ll help me put batter on the ones that are ready,” he starts wrapping your hand with the cloth. “sprinkle flour on the shrimps, then coat it with the batter. understood?” his eyes meet yours as he tightens the cloth. “alright,” you whisper. he’d given up on you, it seems. you begin to feel the weight of not being smart enough to even prepare a shrimp. and scaramouche, being the empath he is, feels the weight as well.

“the task is simple, [name],” he states, eyes locked with yours, “i’m sure you’ll do a fine job.” his thumb rubs circles on your hand. a pause follows, long enough to make you think he’s contemplating a kiss. but he turns around and goes straight to the shrimps, and you follow him in disappointment.

your heart is still warm, however, from his praise (plus insult, unfortunately, but from the look in his eyes, you know he means well). now for the next step.

step two ~ batter.

scaramouche was right- coating the batter on the shrimps is a simple task. spreading flour on their bodies is undemanding, and dipping them into the batter takes no more than half a minute. yes, you may have accidentally dropped a few into the batter, to which your partner said he’d fish them out later, and yes, you may have splattered some onto your and his clothes unnoticed, but it is an otherwise smooth ride.

what’s smoother, though, is your hand “accidentally” grazing against his as you take another shrimp to coat with batter just as he drops a freshly peeled one onto the plate. he’d said sorry, didn’t mean to, and that made you feel like a high schooler who just bumped into your crush at school.

you attempt it a few more times, butterflies fluttering in your stomach every time your skin made contact with his. of course, he catches on.

the next time you move your hand awkwardly to his side, he grabs it- like a mouse trap, well, trapping a mouse. “sneaky one,” he snickers, slowly bringing your hand to his lips. a kiss. and flattering as it is, you can’t help but ask, “doesn’t it taste like raw shrimp?”

his answer is frank.

“shut up.”

step three ~ into the oil.

scaramouche prepares the portable stove by the table. a huge wok, high amount of oil and a ludicrously large fire. “you’re crazy,” you mutter, watching the oil heat up from a reasonable distance. “i’m just a good chef,” he replies, testing the oil with a drip of batter. “you are a good chef, scara, but you’re crazy.” he chuckled in response.

a sizzle interrupted your conversation, and the chef boss readies his tongs. picks up a shrimp, and slides it into the boiling oil. “they’ll be ready in about two minutes, once they float- we have to make sure they don’t turn fully golden.” he says to you loudly, asserting dominance over the loud crackle crackle of the frying tempura.

two minutes, you think, is a very long time. your partner looks at you with a curious, raised eyebrow. which means... you contemplate, i can do this.

three steps forward, a little to the side, and your arms are around his waist. “g- huh?! [name], get off me.” he smells like mint and ointment and detergent. and, well, shrimp. “seriously, i need to focus on the tempura. get off.” he feels homely, albeit a bit small. “[name]. it’s... it’s dangerous. your hand’s already injured.” and it finally emerges- his concern for you that does not usually show itself.

you groan in protest. “i don’t wanna do nothing for two minutes, scara,” you mumble into his neck. he turns to look at you, shaking his head in the process, “and you call me crazy.” you softly giggle at that, almost dozing off into his soft, milky skin. just like a bed.

scaramouche releases a long sigh. “don’t you dare take a nap. we’ve got one more dish to make.” “mmhm,” the lazy response barely made it past your lips.

after that, other than the sizzling of the oil and crackling of the fire, you embraced your lover in silence. he stands further from the wok than he usually would while waiting. and when he approaches it, he makes sure to shield your hands hanging at his waist.

maybe, he thinks, just maybe, the both of you are actually crazy.

a/n : watered down the recipe from sudachirecipes! actually a self indulgent fic because i’m absolutely helpless in the kitchen :O) as always, thank you for reading!

#scaramouche x reader #genshin impact x reader #scaramouche fluff #genshin fluff #writefie #scaramouche #scaramouche fanfic #shelf : local works ༉ ‧ ₊˚

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misguidedasgardian · 1 year

Text

The White Dragon (39)

39. King's Landing

MASTERLIST

Summary: Your and your family’s loyalty is put to the test

Pairings: main Harwin Strong x Fem!Targaryen reader

Warnings: cursing, medieval and A song of ice and Fire AU customs, injury, burns, dragon fire, death, threats, violence, armies, war and all that comes with it. Might miss some warnings but you know what this is about :)

+18, MINORS DNI

Wordcount: 3.0 k

Notes: uuuffff one more chapter filled with politics before we are up the saddle and burning things again! jejeje

You never thought you’d be scared or sad to see your daughter, but here you were

“Aemma” you called, when you saw her entering the Red Keep with Harwin by his side

“Mama!”, she said with a wide smile, she came to you and hugged you tightly, and you hugged her back, “have you heard from Vaegor and Saera?”, she asked, you only shook your head

“Not yet”, you answered, she smiled sadly

“We will find them”, she assured you, with those beautiful eyes she inherited from her father, deep green, like a forest, you kissed her forehead

“I know”, you assured her, she nodded, pleased

“Is so weird to come back here”, she said, and you smiled at her, caressing her cheek

“You must prove to aunt Rhaenyra that you are loyal to her”, you said gently, she seemed sad, but nodded

“Alright mama”, she said, “I will bend the knee and call her my Queen, that way we'll be safe”, she said with such hope you wanted to cry

She was so beautifully innocent yet

She amazed you, she could burn armadas to the bottom of the ocean, but she still wanted to believe the best, even in times of war.

Her audience, and Aemond’s, was going to take place on the later hours of the day, you bitterly thought two things, one, Rhaenyra wanted you to have time to see your daughter and Aemond and speak to them, and two, she was surely listening trough spies, or Daemon, or Daemon’s spies, so after you spoke to her when you saw her come in, you didn’t look for her again, she was probably in her chambers with Aemond.

As you were looking on the horizon you couldn’t help but be scared, you thought about your two youngest dragonlings, and where they were and how, were they alright? Were they scared?

Are they even alive?

You drew a sharp breath at the possibility

Without even realizing it, tears started to fall from your eyes as you hugged yourself, looking at the ocean, oh your babies, they were only children.

You felt Harwin’s unmistakable arms around you

“Shhh my love”, he shushed you, hugging you tightly, he kissed the side of your face, “be calm, please”

“They are dead, aren’t they?”, you cried, and you felt him shook his head

“No, they are not”

“How do you know?”, you asked with a broken voice

“I just know it, I feel it, in my heart”, he assured you, and you whimpered

“Rhaenyra knows where they are”, you accused, “she won’t tell me unless I become his soldier”

“So that is what we will become”, he said, “we will get them back, she knows how much our children matter to us, she will use them to get to you, but she is smarter than to harm them”, he spoke with such certainty that you believed him

“What about Aemma and Aemond?”, you asked, “they are in more danger than ever, just as Maekar and Rhaegar, how can we prove Rhaenyra that…?”, Harwin shushed you

“We will manage”, he assured you.

But Harwin had his own battles to fight, he had his own problems besides the ones involving his family, but this did involve a member of his family.

It wasn’t hard to find, he had been imprisoned when Rhaenyra took over, but he was barely in the first level. Apparently, he had been very cooperative in fear to be lowered to the darkest, more tortuous levels of the cells.

“Hello brother”, he heard from the darkness of a cell

“Larys”, he growled, his brother appeared from the shadows, he looked like shit, Harwin thought

“Is good to see you”, he said calmly

“Why?”, he asked

“Why is it good to see you?”, he mocked

“Why did you betray us?”, he asked darkly, Larys only chuckled

“I only supported the team with the better odds”, he said simply

“Not the one your own family is in”, he said bitterly

“Your family Harwin”, he said, “not mine”

“Why did you do it?”, he pressed, “what did they give you?”

“They gave me nothing”, he said cryptically, “I took it for myself”, Harwin stared at the empty eyes of his brother

“What did you do?”, he asked, but his brother didn’t answer, he just had this sick smile on his face. Harwin passed one of his hands through the bars as quickly as lightning, grabbing his brother’s neck, “You poisoned him, didn’t you?”, he asked bitterly, “IT WAS YOU! AND FOR WHAT?”, the smile didn’t erase from Larys’ face as he was being shocked

“For power”, he only said

“You are sick! you could’ve had everything! a family of your own!”

“That is nothing”, he said, Harwin made sure to hit the head of his brother against the bars as he let go of you

“I’ll be in the first line the day they hang you”, he threatened.

You reunited back again in the throne room, hours later, you were standing by the side, as Aemond and Aemma were right in the center of the room. Harwin was by your side, he looked completely distracted, disturbed even, you took his hand in yours and squeezed, he looked down at you and smiled

“What happened?”

“I will tell you later”, he promised, you got distracted by Rhaenyra entering the room with Daemon and Jacaerys by her side, standing by her side while she took a sit on the throne

“I’m pleased you are here, niece, brother”, Rhaenyra claimed, “but there is someone missing from this reunion”, you looked at them, worried, Rhaenyra knew your sons were on special mission but there was only one member of the family unaccounted for. “Where is Helaena?”, asked Rhaenyra then, and your breath got caught in your throat, as you looked directly at Aemond

“In Harrenhal”, said Aemma, “she has small children, she didn’t want to come back here to the Red Keep”, she said softly, trying to explain

“Do you mean she refused to bend the knee to me?”, she asked bitterly, and you wanted to intervene but Cregan by your side grabbed your arm, “the rightful heir, and her sister”

“She…”, Aemond was going to protest, but Aemma took a step forwards, interrupting him

“Nothing of the sort”, that warm smile and gentle eyes were like Dragonfire, it could melt almost everything and everyone, “Dear Aunt, my Queen, as a mother you must understand, after Helaena almost died here in the Red Keep she was weary of the travel, war had touched us all”, she continued, “Helaena is a gentle soul and of a fragile mind, she has small children”, she said then, “She wanted to stay in the White hall”, that truly did seem to please Rhaenyra, as she nodded

“I wish for her to come here”, she said then, “I understand she is reluctant to come back to the Keep, but she has my word, that if she bends the knee, she will have nothing to fear of me”

“I will send her a raven myself”, offered Aemma, looking back at Aemond and smiling, Aemond seemed more relaxed as well. You need to reach Maekar, and tell him to return, and come here at Helaena’s side.

But Rhaenyra didn’t look content, not pleased, and Aemond sensed that

“We haven’t heard a word from you, brother”, she said like it was an insult rather that mentioning your relationship with him

“I share my beautiful wife’s sentiment”, he said, looking at Aemma, “I come here to show you my allegiance to you, sister”

“Your wife?”, she asked, suddenly angry, she then looked at you like you betrayed her, again, “funny, the last time I saw my father alive he claimed he wanted to marry Aemma to my son and heir, Prince Jacaerys”, she said and you cursed Aemond and his big mouth.

Aemond took Aemma’s hand in his and squeezed reassuringly

“We decided to marry after we took Highgarden in your name”, he said swiftly

“But you did not ask me, your sovereign, for permission for this marriage”, she said firmly, Aemond moved his jaw, clearly uncomfortable, “did you consummate the marriage?”, and you looked at the floor in shame, you really didn’t want to know that.

“Y-yes we did”, Aemma whispered, you looked up at Rhaenyra who looked at Jacaerys by her side

“She is ruined then”, he sentenced and you had to bite your tongue, Aemond seemed to be in the same position as you, but Aemma, having inherited some of Jaehaerys’ grace, whispered something into Aemond, calming him down

“For me to give you a full pardon, I will need you to renounce your titles, and houses”, she said, and you were going to protest, but Harwin grabbed your arm

“What?”, whined Aemma

“You will be no longer known with the titles of Princes”, she said, and Jacaerys seemed so entertained

“We are not in the line of succession”, said Aemond, “why would you care if we…?”

“You are defying me, brother?”, Rhaenyra asked, and as you looked closer into her arm as she was grabbing the throne, you seemed to saw a red line in her forearm, but you were probably imagining things

“I’m just trying to meet your demands and accept our allegiance to you, my queen”, you better than anyone knew how hard was for Aemond to call your sister that

“What do you want from me?”, Aemond interrupted the conversation, and everything fell silent. Aemma felt her heart sinking, “Dear half-sister, what do you want from me?”. Seemed that the last drop had fallen from Aemond’s glass, and he was not taking this anymore.

“From you…?”, she mocked, “I….”

“Yes I wanted to protect my family from those who I knew would harm them and I chose to follow my brother’s claim, I did what I thought was right, but I saw my mistake and I am here today, bending the knee to you, you have my allegiance, now, what else do you want? Do you want to threaten my wife? my sister and my nephews? Do you want me to burn cities to the ground? because I would, for them I chose the usurper, and for them I will change again”, he said firmly, “I called you sons bastards a couple of times and they took my eye, if you think I’m the villain of this story I will become it…”

Rhaenyra didn’t really know what to say, in her hunger for power she was poking the dragon, the biggest threat to the Blacks was there, bending the knee to her, but he was going to break before he bends…

“You are threatening me?”, she asked, Daemon by her side grabbed the pommel of dark sister

Aemma looked back at Aemond in terror and he took a step forwards to place her behind him

“Aemond please”

“No”, he said, “If she can’t guarantee yours and Helaena’s safety I will not bend the knee”

“Are you refusing to serve the one and true Queen of the seven Kingdoms?”, asked Daemon, taking steps down the throne. Jace behind him, couldn’t hide his smile

“No!”, shouted Aemma

“I bend the knee”, he said, “is you who is twisting my words”, he defended, he didn’t have a sword, but he didn’t care

Tensions were arising, swords were being drawn, and as Aemma begged for mercy, everything was interrupted by the huge doors of the hall opening

“Prince Maekar, of House Strong and Targaryen”, chanted the Kingsguard, and you could finally breathe when you saw your eldest son walking confidently into the room

“My Queen!”, he said, clearly he did not read the room, but his entrance was so surprising nobody was moving or saying anything, “I have brought great news!”, he said, looking at everyone in the room and yet the smile could not disappear from his face. He walked until he was in front of Aemond and Aemma, “as a irrefutable proof of our allegiance, of my house, and my brother by law”, he said, with his open arms pointing at all of you, “I bring you the great news, that, the treasury has been recovered from the Lannisters, and it’s on it’s way here!”, he said, and everyone in the room got quieter, “Ser Steffon Mangold in a rescue mission infiltrated Casterly Rock”, he told, “I secured a Lannister ship with the help of my sister and Aemond”, he continued, “and with it I could infiltrate the port and safe Ser Steffon and with a small garrison of Tyrell soldiers I recuperated the treasury from their vaults”

“You did?”, asked Rhaenyra, clearly confused, but relieved

“It’s on it’s way here, from the Gold Road, as we speak,”, he assured you all, “Ser Steffon is guarding it alongside a force of Tyrell soldiers of a thousand mounted soldiers, and two thousand men and 500 hundred archers, alongside the Lady Regent of the Reach, coming here to bend the knee to you”

“You recuperated it, for me?”, she asked, not believing it, Maekar, still on his knees smiled at her

“For my Queen”, he said then, “to prove the fealty of all my family”, his face turned serious as he looked at her, making a deal right then and there, in front of all of you, you looked at Rhaenyra expectantly, she looked at Daemon and he nodded

“Very well”, she then looked at Aemond, “I appreciate your allegiance, dear nephew, yours and your family’s, you are all pardoned”, she assured you, and you breathed more easily, Aemma hugged Aemond tightly and he hugged her back.

You ran towards Maekar and you hugged him tightly

“You are alright”, you cried

“I am”, he assured you, “Helaena is on her way”

“What?”, you cried. “No!”, he placed his hands on your upper arms

“everything is going to be alright, I promise, we have a plan”

“How did you manage to sneak into Casterly Rock…?”

“We will discuss it later”, he assured you, and you just nodded

You were altered, there was no denying that, this day had been a rollercoaster of emotions and you wondered how much more you could take, your daughter and son by law almost got treated like traitors by your tyrannic sister, your husband has just confessed that it was his brother who murdered your father in law, and was a traitor to your family, your younger children were missing and your oldest was bringing his… partner? your own sister here to the most dangerous place where she could be treated as a traitor and her children could be in danger because they are the children of the usurper that was hiding in some corner in the seven Kingdoms.

It did not got better when you were called upon by your sister and uncle, to be in the small council, as an emergency meeting

“Daeron Hightower”, started Daemon in the small council room, “is marching on the capital, with an army of ten thousand men”

“WHAT?”, you managed to say

“He has the Hightower army and the remains of the Baratheon’s”, explained Rhanyra, “it is imperative we destroy him”

“How many men can you gather?”, you asked

“Only you can answer that”, she said bitterly

“With how many dragons I count on?”, you asked then

And again, it all depend on you, Rhaenyra was sitting in the throne but she didn’t intent on doing anything to keep it or protect it

Again is was you.

You felt dizzy as you walked out of the room, all the problems, everything was catching up to you, and you didn’t see a way out of this

In a moment, your eyesight began to tunnel, and you felt dizzy, like your body was too heavy and the ground started to pull you in. You felt your heartbeat in your ears and suddenly you couldn’t breathe anymore

When you woke up again, you were laying on your bed, a cold rag on your forehead, and Harwin seated right by your side, looking down at you with concern

“How are you my love?”, he asked gently

“What happened?”, you whined, again you were feeling like your body weighted tons

“You fainted”, he said softly, and you whined, “you are not pregnant again are you?”, he mocked, but with hope in his voice

“Harwin I swear I will kill you”, you threatened, and he laughed

“You must be tired, and overwhelmed”, he said gently

“How long I was out?”, you asked

“It’s already the morning”

“Oh, I need to…”

“You need to rest”

“We can’t rest…”

“Cregan went to Harrenhal to meet his army, with it he will march it south to meet the Hightowers”, he said, “he bought us a couple of weeks, until we can gather the dragons and join them”

“Thank you”, you whispered

“You have nothing to thank me for, you have good allies”, he said, “and there is someone who wants to see you”, he nodded towards the door and Maekar with Helaena showed up, and for some reason, that made you feel better

“It is dangerous you are here dear sister”, you whispered, but she nodded, looking at Maekar, who sat by your side on the bed

“Helaena and I were thinking, and we came to the conclusion that it would be best if we…”, he swallowed hard, you could tell this was hard on him, but Helaena smiled sweetly at him, and squeezed her hand, “if we tell everyone that the children, Jaehaerys, Jahaera and Maelor, are mine”, he said, looking straight at you

“But they are not”, you said, “are they?”, you asked fearfully

“They aren’t… biologically speaking, no, but, we believe it’s best”

“For what darling?”, you asked

“If people believe they are bastards, they won’t be a threat to Rhaenyra’s reign”, Helaena said gently, her eyes were only to Maekar

“That way we can keep them safe”, he said then, nodding, “I will marry Helaena, and the children can take my name”

“But them being bastards, also places them in a different type of danger”, you muttered

“No if we keep to ourselves, in Harrenhal”, he said with a small smile, “people there like us, they love us, they love Helaena, they wouldn’t hurt them”, you nodded, “besides they are going to be safe with me”, and for the first time since this began, you felt relieved.

You hugged Maekar and he hugged you back

“I’m so proud of you, my sweet boy”, you whispered, hugging your son against you

More notes: I know it was kind of random but I needed to give the Harwin-Larys thing a clousure

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