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jals-stuff · 18 days

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hi girlie!! i see that your requests are open... can i pls request hurt+comfort on orter with a flirty girl reader pretty please??? the lack of orter fics is crazy T_T

(guess who btw :3)

why hello there, dear. I'll guess you are m***i, and I agree, there aren't enough works on him.

Anyway, here's a poorly, quickly written one. It is supposedly proofread but it's 5am and I am very eepy!

Just a flirt!

Word count: 2.6k

Warnings: none!

“Took you long enough.”

You blinked a few times as he looked up from his paperwork, and mostly at the report you were holding. You had spent longer than necessary on this paper you’d received from Renatus, correcting rewriting the entire thing as it was just full of mistakes and this jerk was too lazy to give you anything that was decent.

“What, did you miss me that much?” You raised your eyebrows with a slight smile as you chuckled to yourself. Oh yeah, that was funny. Orter didn’t seem to find it amusing, as his expression didn’t really change at all. You made your way to his desk and sat on the chair facing it, handing him Renatus’ report.

He decided not to dwell on that stupid remark of yours and started reading the paper, taking notes on the side and making sure nothing is missing. Meanwhile, you were staring carefully studying his expression, and every single small nod he gave while reading.

“Renatus isn't usually this thorough with reports. Colour me surprised.” He blankly said and slid the report inside one of his drawers. You raised an eyebrow and looked at him with a proud grin. “Renatus gave me a piece of scrap, so I rewrote it entirely using the information he gave me.” you stated, crossing your arms as you looked at him, visibly waiting for some praise.

He stared blankly for a second and sighed, adjusting his glasses. “Well done, (Y/N). Very good work.” Though he was praising you, his expression didn't change that much and you could just feel how exhausting it was for him to give compliments.

“Mm, mm. That's right. I’m always good with my work when I know you'll review it…” You trailed off, looking at him with a satisfied smile and a small wink. He raised both eyebrows at your obvious flirting and chose not to comment on it, but you weren't done anyway.

“Anyway, I think I deserve more than just a little compliment! I rewrote the entire thing, you know?” You playfully pouted, putting on a dramatically sad, puppy eyes expression for him. Orter pinched the bridge of his nose with a deep sigh; he knew you wouldn't back down anyway.

“That was amazing work, (Y/N). Rarely have I ever seen a report written with such incredible finesse and precision.” He said blankly again, and it was clear he didn't mean it that much, although there was a part of truth in his words that he refused to admit, even to himself.

“Thank you, thank you.” You chuckled, knowing very well that he was exaggerating, but seeing as he played along, you decided to push your luck a little. “So what, am I getting a reward for all this hard work?”

Even if his expression didn't change, you could read him like he was an open book. “Was the praise not enough?” was probably what he thought at this point. You could've stopped there and brushed it off as a joke but your ego had been flattered just enough to make you bolder.

“How ‘bout… a little kiss? Just on the cheek! Like mwwwah!” you mimicked a kiss while pointing at your cheek and were absolutely convinced that your imitation was flawless. Of course, you were partially joking, and assumed he would just sigh and dismiss your comment, but no such luck.

“I have better things to do than to entertain your delusional little fantasies.” He simply spoke and grabbed his pen again to fill out some of his paperwork. Ouch. But that was his whole personality anyway, of course he wouldn't give you a little kiss, you already knew that, but hearing him say it this way tugged just a tiny bit at your heartstrings.

“No fun.” You sighed and crossed your arms on top of his desk before nesting your chin in-between them. “I am being highly underappreciated here.” You whined dramatically, and then regained your usual smug expression. “That's okay though, you're still my favourite.”

You could tell you were slowly but surely getting on his nerves, and it was kind of amusing to see him have to close his eyes and take a deep breath before focusing on his tasks again. He was already being very patient by allowing you to laze around in his office when you had free time, but he was gradually starting to regret this decision.

You were already done with your work for today, and sat in Orter’s office simply to enjoy his company. He knew, and for some reason he tolerated your presence as long as you didn't disturb him too much.

Was any of your flirting serious? Of course it was. You genuinely liked him! You had been blessed with a sweet voice and a pretty face, and most of your colleagues at the Bureau would've dreamt of being in his place right now. He was very much aware of that, but it seemed off to him.

Even though your coworkers kept flirting around with you and quite literally trying to slide in your pants, you had denied every single one of them. From nameless staff members to the Flame Cane, none of them had your attention except Orter, and all of your flirting surely showed it… or so you thought. Things were awfully different in his mind.

Now, you were just looking at him and his paperwork, fiddling with some trinkets on his desk. Being in the same room as him was almost enough for you, but you kept feeling this physical need to flirt with him, to demonstrate how much you liked him, and you would've thought he had a clue, as you kept making it painfully obvious.

His eyes travelled to your hands as he put one of his papers down. “Stop it.” He ordered, and you immediately let go of the trinket you were toying with in a deep sigh now.

“But I’m bored.” You mumbled, and he put down his pen, his hands now joined on top of his desk. He looked at you for a bit, your almost childish behaviour was starting to irritate him slightly.

“Then leave.” He raised his head slightly as he took off his glasses to wipe them. “Nobody asked you to sit here and disturb my work with your… immature antics.” Ouch, another one, but at this point, you were used to his spiky remarks and simply shrugged it off.

“Aww, but I'll miss you if I leave, you know~?” Again with the puppy eyes, making your expression unnecessarily dramatic again even though you meant every single word you said; but saying it in a completely blank tone would embarrass you way too much. “And I know you'll miss me too, hehe.” You playfully added.

He put his glasses back on and gave you a very stern look and raised an eyebrow very slightly. “Surely, there are other victims that await your attention somewhere else. Why not pay them a visit instead of constantly disrupting my focus?”

He sure was in a foul mood today, wasn't he? But his comment felt like a sharp blade into your stomach and you just needed an explanation for it. “What is that supposed to mean?” Your flirtatious demeanour was temporarily suspended as you weren't quite sure what you'd just heard.

“Are you already done seducing your other colleagues? Must I suffer your incessant flirtations in their place now?” He asked again, and it didn't sound like he was being sarcastic at all, but at least you now knew.

“Orter… are you jealous?” You asked, and your tone was dead serious. It was inimaginable that he could ever feel jealous about something so petty— something you hadn't even done in the first place.

He took a deep breath. “Nonsense. This is wishful thinking; I am merely aggravated by your attempts to turn me into one of these loyal… dogs you have around at the Bureau.” he scoffed, and you could tell he was not pleased with your behaviour.

“...what?” was all you could utter, as you looked at him in disbelief. “You don't know how wrong you are about this, clearly.” You didn't want to be rude to him even though he really deserved it right now, but you seemed to be testing each other's patience.

“How wrong could I be? These people are head over heels for you. Surely, this doesn't happen without a push.” He firmly stated, and again, he was wrong. “Whatever have I done for you to think I’ll be one of them?”

You had always hated arguments, but having one with Orter was the worst that had happened in a while. He was fully convinced that you were but a flirt, a temptress that relished in having people crawl at her feet… but that wasn't it, and these people weren't exactly crawling either.

“How can you say such a thing?” You looked at him in heavy disappointment. “How could you think such a thing, after all of… this?” After all of the obvious flirting you gave him, the endless remarks about how you miss him when he isn't around or your constant winking.

He was just staring in religious silence, thinking you'd give up and simply admit your faults so he could go back to work without any disturbance, but he was once again very wrong, and you needed to justify yourself.

“Why would I flirt with anyone other than you at the Bureau?” you asked, standing up from your chair and placing both hands on the desk in front of him, and he simply adjusted his glasses on his nose.

“Because that's who you are, it would seem.”

You sat back in defeat, looking at him, completely dumbfounded. Every word you wanted to say ended up getting swallowed in the whirlpool of emotions you were feeling, and you couldn't do anything else than stare at him. You could physically feel your heartstrings being pulled now and it was disturbingly painful.

“Is…” you swallowed your emotions down before trying again. “Is that really what you think? That I'm just the type of girl to flirt around and just… sleep well afterwards?” Your tone made it obvious that you were hurt, and it didn't go unnoticed.

But he was convinced. Convinced that your flirting was not a rare occurrence, that it extended beyond the limits of his office, that surely you had already done it before and he was probably just one of those targets you'd use to boost your self-esteem. Even though he was upset with you, his goal wasn't to hurt you, and he decided to avoid your question, not knowing what to answer anyway.

“I don't even know why you're trying to justify yourself that hard.” He finally sighed and grabbed his pen again, which was his way of telling you that this conversation was over and you had to leave; but you wouldn't let go just yet, not before you had said your piece.

“Because it's you we're talking about.” You blurted out, once again flabbergasted by how dense a man could be. “How straightforward do I have to be for you to understand? Have I not been vigorously flirting with you?” You asked loudly, almost laughing nervously.

“You sure have, but—”

“Have I not made it crystal clear that I am into you? That I want to spend time with you?” Oh, you had no will to listen to his flawed reasoning and you just couldn't take it anymore. You were trying your best not to tear up in front of him already, and any more of his baseless accusations surely would make a sufficient push to make you cry.

“I never said you didn't d—”

“Then why are you so blind to my feelings?” You interrupted again, but this time way calmer. You sat back, weakly plopping down on your chair and staring down at his desk for no apparent reason. He didn't really say anything. In fact, he was processing the information you had just given him.

You felt terribly awkward after your half confession, and that clumsy part of your personality couldn't take the silence anymore. “How can someone that dense be in charge of the Magical Power administration..?”

Were you jesting? Probably. But what else could you do anyway? Your main goal was to keep your composure and hold your tears back, at least until you were out of his line of sight. His eyes were on you, they had been the whole time, but you couldn't muster the courage to look at him anymore.

“May I speak now?” He asked, first of all wanting to make sure you wouldn't interrupt him anymore, and only now did it occur to you, how rude you had been these last few minutes. You gave a nod and he sighed deeply, joining his hands against his desk and looking at you with a bit of a softer expression.

“I never said you haven't been straightforward.” He started, and now that you were a bit calmer than before, you could feel your shame grow at his words. “I never said you didn't do all these things you talked about so… fervently. I am merely saying that I do not believe you are exclusively trying to seduce me.”

You sighed again, and he braced himself for another rant but instead of justifying yourself again, you ran a hand through your hair and took a deep breath. Looking all sad and defeated wasn't like you at all, and you needed to prove yourself to this dense, silly, overworked man.

“I don’t get it. Why does the fact that I supposedly am flirting with other people bother you?” You decided to ask, your arms crossed over your chest as you were now back to studying his expression and tone. If you were going to cry, so be it, but you wouldn't go down without a fight, especially for him.

He takes a minute to think, narrowing his eyes slightly. “What bothers me is the way you act with those people, and how you pretend to be innocent afterwards.” You gave him a confused look and he decided to develop. “The way you politely smile at them and make small talk. You're almost inviting them.” He said that while keeping his straight face and cold glare, completely serious.

Oh. Oh.

“So you are jealous.” You couldn't help but smile a little and finally look up at him, only to be met by an utterly confused Orter, ready to absolutely deny your claim.

“I am not jealous, (Y/N).”

“What if I stopped talking to all of them then, would it make things a little better?” You offered, suppressing a smile and pretending to act serious. He seemed to think for another minute again and leaned back into his chair.

“Yes, I believe it would.”

Ah, you couldn’t take it anymore and just burst out laughing; he didn’t seem to like it very much but it was impossible to resist. You just had to make sure again, and so, you slowly regained your composure and caught your breath, then exhaled deeply. “So, let me get this straight…” you started, and he listened. “What upsets you is the fact that I am supposedly flirting with other people, and if I didn’t smile at them or made small talk, you wouldn’t mind my flirting?”

You did not miss that sigh of relief. He adjusted his glasses again and crossed his legs, looking at you very seriously. “I am glad to know that you have ears.” He said blankly, his expression still so cold as his eyes landed on yours again. “Are you making fun of me now?” His voice sounded slightly irritated and you had to calm yourself down again.

“No, not at all. But you just admitted to being jealous so… I win.” You could feel all of your earlier worries dissipating. He wasn't denying it either, instead looking like he was thinking about your reasoning; you had him cornered now.

And the best part about all of this is that he has no clue what he just signed up for.

#orter mádl x reader #orter x reader #orter madl x reader #orter madl x you #orter madl #mashle x reader #mashle #mashle imagine #mashle fluff #mashle x you #mashle x y/n #madl orter #mashle orter madl #orter mádl #mashle orter

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starchaserwrites · 1 month

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@jegulus-microfic / march 14: choice / word count: 558

Stab it, strangle it, scoop out its gut, throw it off a cliff... it repeats over and over in his mind.

Four chains, three double crochet, three chains, repeat four times...

The first few times Pandora tried to teach him how to crochet were a total failure. The wool got tangled, the stitches were either too loose or too tight and picking up the crochet hook was a problem on its own. But since he learned to crochet, Regulus takes his knitting wherever he goes.

Today in particular, he has taken it upon himself to bring extra balls of wool, as he intends to be productive in the nearly three hours it will take him to travel by train from Liverpool to London to visit his estranged brother after nearly five years. And no, of course Regulus isn't nervous. That he's gripping his crochet needle tighter than necessary and knitting furiously has nothing to do with it. He doesn't even notice when the seat next to him is taken.

One, two, three... nine double crochets, his hands move skilfully creating new rows.

He has been trying to finish this tote bag for an eternity and... What the hell is that?

There are no mistakes in knitting, only design variations, the voice of his best friend echoes in his head.

Well, clearly Regulus made a mistake several rows back that's making his granny square look more like a rectangle, and there is no way to make it look intentional. With a huff, he has no choice but to start pulling the wool to undo his failed progress.

"No!" an urgent voice protests from his right side, leaving him confused.

Regulus turns his head slowly, scowling and ready for a confrontation, which is quickly forgotten when a pair of warm, honey-brown eyes open wide and stare back at him. Regulus frowns even more deeply.

"I'm sorry! I swear I didn't mean to intrude, but it's just that you were doing something beautiful and you took it apart so fast I couldn't help myself and-" the man continues speaking hurriedly but Regulus is more focused on the way a lone curl of brown hair covers part of his forehead, and his hands itch eagerly to touch it to find out if it's as soft as it looks.

"Yeah, never mind," is all the answer he gives before resuming his knitting slightly flushed.

Three chains, three double crochets-

"Where did you learn how to do that? I mean, crocheting. It's really cool, you got me hooked, you know what I mean?"

Regulus stares at him for a long moment refusing to let the ridiculous phrase have any effect on him.

The right corner of his lips betrays him and rises against his will.

"My name is James. Oh, and I need your surname to know-" Regulus merely covers James' mouth with one hand and his own face with the other.

"We'll see about the last name. I'm Regulus, and please stop saying all those embarrassing things."

It's safe to say that Regulus invested his nearly three hour journey very well getting to know this now not-longer-stranger... but once again he didn't finish the bag.

And well, big is their surprise when they find out that they are going to the same place to see the same person, but that's a different story.

In case you are wondering about the crocheting chant

#ode to my own uncompleted tote bag #jegulus #regulus black #james potter #starchaser #sunseeker #james x regulus #jegulus microfic #microfics #marauders #len writes

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originalaccountname · 9 months

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I am treating the Cannibalism stage play as, like, an official fanfic, but it gave me emotions about Chuuya and he is my blorbo I need to share more details about the infamous "Chuuya cries" moment with full context:

Since they did not have a costume or actor for Poe, they got rid of Chuuya and Ranpo getting stuck in his story, and instead gave Chuuya a mini arc about leadership. They made Chuuya doubt his own legitimacy as a leader (for the Port Mafia) every step of the way.

He started out by saying that as the ex-leader of the Sheep, an enemy organization, it made no sense for him to be the interim boss of the Port Mafia. He even told Kouyou she should take the role because he used to be her subordinate. Kouyou convinced him to step up to the challenge by pointing out he usually didn't hesitate to lead people ("but those times I was acting on the boss' orders") and that she had 8 boxes full of Steel Oracles written by subordinates who wanted and trusted him to be up to the task.

Steel Oracles were the stage play's answer to the Silver Oracles. If the Silver Oracles are the boss entrusting a subordinate with power to act, the Steel Oracles are the subordinates entrusting an individual with the power to lead them. They are check notes with the name of the individual being entrusted written on the back, signed by the person submitting it, and symbolizes the submitter entrusting that individual with everything that they have and are. Chuuya had 8 boxes with his name on it.

He later (obviously desperate) goes to request Verlaine help them assassinate Fukuzawa. Chuuya says the PM his family that he needs to protect. He wants Mori to live. He's having a very rough time. (Verlaine refuses but makes him realize Dazai is plotting something)

When all is said and done, he meets with Mori and Chuuya says he'll be returning the Steel Oracles to the subordinates. Mori jokes about Chuuya being more popular than him, so shouldn't he name Chuuya boss instead? Chuuya refuses immediately, saying that the people were only saying he was strong, not that he had their respect, and says he could never be a boss like Mori. He makes a comment about Mori having already said he wanted Dazai as the next boss anyway.

Mori agrees, Chuuya looks a little resigned and starts walking away. But then, Mori produces 5 new Steel Oracles: they're all signed by the Flags. Mori says he was given these long ago, by "experts" who had seen Chuuya's potential way back then. Mori says he had promised to look after Chuuya until the time came. He says that the people he considered family also considered him family. Chuuya hears the voices of the Flags calling out to him, takes the Steel Oracles with a stiff nod and excuses himself (the first anime ending, namae wo yobu yo, starts playing then). He avoids looking at Kouyou, who asks him if he's crying, and exits as quickly as possible.

During the outro section, we see Chuuya again, holding the Flags' Steel Oracles. He smiles (smirks really) and puts them in the interior pocket of his coat, before joining in on the choreography.

For bonus points, when Chuuya was the interim boss, he still had that "nobody needs to be hurt more than necessary" attitude he has in the manga. He fought Kyouka in Mori's room by using martial arts instead of gravity. He was also ruthless in filling in for the role of the Black Lizard for this story: he wanted to use Tanizaki as a hostage to get the ADA, and told him that once Tanizaki was no longer of use, he would be disposed of, just like every ADA member would be killed off until they got Fukuzawa. He wanted to cut Tanizaki's ear off to send to the ADA to tell them the deal was off. It was clearly business for him. He said he took no pleasure in it.

All in all, with tone, acting and context, Chuuya's hesitancy to lead the PM here was clearly an issue of self-confidence. Nobody would trust him with the role. Someone else would be better for it. He has too much baggage to be up to the task. People fear him more than they respect him.

And that issue is "resolved" (big word) when it turned out people he held in high esteem and cared about actually believed in him too. They saw him, they knew him, they cared for him, and they thought that, in time, he would be great. And that's what got to him.

#blorbo makes me feel emotions when blorbo feels emotions himself #he doubted himself so much :(#he was doing his best :(#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bsd stage play #bsd nakahara chuuya #bsd chuuya #apparently i talk sometimes #is this considered long?

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blueparadis · 2 years

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▏drowning ▏pierro ▏

CWs— female anatomy, she/her pronouns, smut, corruption kink, sub!reader, use of pet-names, cumflation, use of sex toy, anal play, cunnilingus, mention of menstrual cycle; word count — 1k

PRECIS — pierro just wants to show you the greater pleasures of life other than doing chores for him.

NOTES — part of my self-event sizzling sextember collab. I was supposed to post it last week of September, but oh well. thanks to @luvbladez for beta reading !

⌗ tags —» @xshinigamikittenx @garoujo @munsonsins

+LINKS SECTION.

The first time Pierro laid eyes on you he knew you would be promising. With your growing body while others seem to work a week barely you endured the workload for almost a month. He thinks it's cute that you do the chores happily with a smile on your face, and take proper breaks if necessary. He is pretty fond of you, your organized habits, your manner of neat and fresh clothing. Sometimes, he thinks you should be rewarded but doesn't know how?

Sometimes he thinks it is your white innocence that makes him work overnight only to watch you getting all fidgety every time you try to glance at him. It certainly crossed his mind that you might like him, his presence around you, especially when he caught you stealing glances at him as he was buried in paperwork but he was not sure until you accidentally fell scattering all those papers on the ground, some flying in other directions and refusing any kind of help he offered.

He did not ask you again since he was unsure if he would have been able to hold himself back after accidentally having a peek of your cleavage. But a reflex thought crossed his mind: would your nipples be the same color as your lips?

He quickly cleared his throat and went back to his work desk while you adjusted your clothing to hide your modesty. He could not tear his gaze away from you that night. He was thankful for your white innocence that did not let you be aware of his intentions, his raging desires to have a taste of you, your supple skin.

Pierro was avoiding you since that day, he had to so that he could keep his cravings at bay yet he was not fond of the fact that he was jacking off thinking of you, late at night like a teenage boy. Fate surely has its wildcards since he needed to see you for fetching some special papers. He would have called for another one but you were more organized, more accustomed to his ways so it was you in the end.

He tried to keep himself busy, not to look at you but when your melodious voice responded to his beckon, something unleashed within him. “You called for me, my lord?”

“Y-Yes”, he shuttered, lending you a file. You inspected it carefully to know what he was looking for. And as you stood in front of the shelf, Pierro clenched his jaw while his fingers curled into a fist. You were just at arm's length wearing a light peach dress, and he was losing his mind thinking how painfully unaware you were that anyone could see your areola

He had enough of this. “Here my lord, the papers”, his eyes made up to yours. The pile of papers went flying in all directions as he pulled you against his body.

“Tell me you want this?”, he panted against your mouth having his arms snaked around your body. You gasped and breathed heavily at this sudden glimpse of hunger as he proceeded to make you sit on his work desk. “Do you want this, girl? Tell me”, he asked again. This time his palm was resting on your naked thighs illuminating fireworks all over your skin.

“Yes”

And in the very next moment, his fingers were playing with your pussy folds, eyes carefully watching your nipples getting hard at his ministrations while you grabbed the edge of his long overcoat. He could not wait any longer. Even though you were wearing the dress, his tongue lapped over your nipple while his mouth clamped around your breasts. “My lord, please ”, you mewl making him quickly pull away but he was bestowed with a raspy plea, “more, I want more of you”

That night, you lost count of how many times you squirted as he finger-fucked you. He did not want to deflower you yet, not like this. He wanted you to beg for it, beg to take your virginity. You wanted that too. You wanted to be filled with his cum, have his hefty cock buried inside you but fate had some other plans.

“I see.”, pierro uttered, strolling across his table as you told him that you were on your cycle. Now, violence was coursing within him, but he did not want to break you like that or give you to his subordinates after he was done savoring your taste. He wanted it all for himself.

Pierro handed you a teardrop-shaped thing and as he explained what it was for, your mind went foggy and dizzy. He was desperate to have you, to taint your innocence and so were you. It was indeed tough to work with that thing buried in your hole but you managed. You wanted to please him so bad, hear him say ‘Good girl as he plays with you later at night.

With the cool breeze grazing your naked skin, giving you goosebumps it was hard not to let out any squeal while having his cock deep inside your butthole. You were sitting on his lap, legs spread across his pelvic as your naked body rested on his firm chest while he was finishing the last pile of papers. Any little movement sends shivers of pain, and waves of pleasure in your clogged mind.

“I’m done baby girl”, he boldly whispers, adjusting you a little. He smiled as your juices soaked the clothing. His long sturdy fingers clamped around your waist as he guided you on his cock. You both wince at every move yet when he had you bouncing on his cock, mixed cum dripping along your legs he knew he had edified you well enough to own you like a fire owns a moth.

A month later, it became a routine. You were addicted to him, his whispers against your ears while his naked chest grazed yours. And Pierro? He was a happy man. Happy that you would come to him late at night, having him sheathed with your pussy while he finishes his work. He knew he did his job well. You both were drowning in each other's web of charms.

—

@tokyometronetwork

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simp-ly-writes · 1 month

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Personal Hell (pt.9) Snippet

Pairing: (Hazbin Hotel) Lucifer Morningstar x demon overlord!Reader

A/N: a bit of what is to come, thank you all for waiting so patiently- really appreciate it!! School is fighting with me but only a bit longer to go! I'll try and have the complete chapter out as soon as I can. :)

Masterlist | Taglist | edited.

Clapping your hands together, hundreds of fireflies hurry themselves towards the ceiling- illuminating the space as you spin with a satisfied hum. Mahogany shelves line behind a grand desk that sits on a taller platform than your own. The chair demands a demanding presence without a body filling its seat, memories of you refusing to look up towards this very desk has you looking back over your shoulder as Lucifer leans against the doorframe with a lazy smile across his face. “Sometime it has been since I have been in this room…” he sarcastically comments, watching as a spider crawls its way across the floor and into a windowsill filled with cobwebs as your cringe in thought to all the eyes of the creature staring back at you.

Shaking your head, disrupting a shiver, you make your way up to the desk, leaning on its surface as your hands trail over the various letters you had sent capturing your adventures and battles before taking up a full-time position at the palace. You hum out, picking up a letter with dried black blood, flipping it over and ushering out the note as it reads, “Best of Mornings, Queen Lilith and Company. I write to you today as an update from the front lines of outer rings. The civil war is soon to be under control once again as discussions have progressed with the deadly sins, I report that from now on I will no longer be talking to Lust after a… personal encounter. Flipping the page, there is a list of necessary equipment to be sent towards the western front that I will be maintaining come morning. To address your earlier concerns, I have endured minor injuries in the fight yet I cannot speak for the hundreds of my fellow brothers and sisters that have become ill in recent time- I cannot urge enough for supplies to come at the earliest moment. Sincerely, General Peacekeeper: your entrusted confidant, historian, and ally.”

Your finger glides over your panicked writing, you remember writing this note while swords and bullets crashed over your head while knee deep in the trenches. Dead-man's land was littered with corpses, the scent vile- burning your nose with its decay as you readied the line for yet another charge as you powered up your shadows in the turning of nightfall. You fail to notice as Lucifer has taken a seat at his desk, his legs spread as he pats his thigh, motioning for you to take a seat as you both continue reading through yet another distant lifetime.

One of his warm palms rests on your thigh, sneaking its way upwards as your breath hitches, swinging yourself to point him a glare. You both freeze as the door slams open and a dozen staff members present themselves to you, wide-eyed and seemingly in a frenzy. Taking a stand quickly, you jump down the stairs and listen to the hurried sentences they all speak out at once- barley picking up any of the words except for three that continue to get repeated, “Charlie, Speech, War.”

Shit. You whisper underneath your breath, your battle armor settling against your skin in an instant, clashing against your spear as you swing it to rest on your back. Lucifer stumbles to a stand, running around the desk yet you fall to the floor and into the cracks between the wood in a blink, travelling through the shadows towards the Hotel as the King grips out his hair- cursing himself. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Hazbin Hotel Masterlist

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#luficer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar #lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifer x you #lucifer x y/n #lucifer morningstar x y/n #lucifer morningstar x you #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer hazbin hotel #simp-ly #simp-ly-writes

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lululandd · 6 months

Text

rabid; (iv.)

pairing: simon ‘ghost’ riley x gn!reader

word count: 1,671

warnings: comedy, unhinged topics, ghost has feelings

note: this is the last one i promise, thanks for reading and sticking around :3

summary: “We need your interrogation magic, LT. We don’t have a lot of time.”

part i. | part ii. | part iii.

“Ghost?” Soap nudged him.

The day was sickly humid, temperature rising by the minute as sweat beaded down his forehead. His mind was somewhere far away when Soap called him, “Yeah. Here.” He replied as he placed a gloved knuckle on his eye, getting rid of the sweat gathering on his lashes.

“We need your interrogation magic, LT. We don’t have a lot of time.”

Ghost sighed deeply at the situation they got themselves into. He looked around the makeshift interrogation room–if they can even call it that–as half of the wall was torn down and there was no roof above them. There could be a UAV coming to pinpoint their location any time now. Soap was right, they don’t have much time.

He stared at his men, all of them looking tired but otherwise alert. He checked his pockets for anything that can be used in an interrogation and took out two of his knives. Gaz and Soap picked up on what he was doing pretty quickly and they handed him pliers, a magnetic pickup tool, while Gromsko and Enzo handed him wire cutters and a swiss knife. To his surprise, Arthur produced a 45° double angle hook from the pocket near where Merlin dangled on his backside.

The man held onto the hook for a moment longer than necessary as Ghost took the item from him, subtly indicating he wanted the item back.

The unnamed Cordis Die member kneeling in front of them stayed silent as Ghost stood in front of him. The others had stayed a little bit away, either keeping watch or just giving them some space. He looked young, late twenties at most, Ghost couldn’t tell very well with all the muck and grime. He crouched down in front of the bound man, asking him in the nicest voice he could muster. When he refused to answer at all, Ghost weighed the items in his hands with vexation as he knows these aren’t the correct tools to make this man talk. His expression didn’t even change when he eyed them in his hands.

He would need to think of something else, and fast.

—

Simon had to hold in his laughter as he loaded his dishwasher, as you and your online friends were onto something wicked which had you laughing and giggling the whole time ever since you started. He heard something about a little celebration but he didn’t quite catch what it was for, but he knows you’re celebrating with a couple drinks.

As he got ready to wind down for the night and crawl into bed for another possibly sleepless night, he perked his ears up to listen in harder on your conversations as you’re getting quieter to probably not disturb him, your only neighbour. It’s cute that you think of him after the soap incident, lowering your voice if you’re going online later in the night. He sort of wishes you didn’t, because of the things he’s gonna miss. Just like tonight’s.

Oh how he would love to hear all the sides of the conversation.

“No, I don’t know what a sheep’s dick looks like. Why would I know what they look like?” A pause. “Nah, I was raised in the city.”

Another info he jolts down in his mind. “Okay. is it more fucked up looking than echidnas?” Simon realised he had no idea what an echidna looks like. He knows what Knuckles—Sonic’s friend—looks like, but not the actual animal. So he googled.

“Man, I really don’t wanna click that link.” He heard you say. He thinks echidnas are cute. They're like pet hedgehogs but with longer snouts and large mole-like paws. He was lost in his thoughts as he scrolled before hearing you squeal out, “No!! What is that! Why does it look…Like that..?” Imagining you wildly gesture at your monitor brought a smile to his face.

Self-restraint was second nature to him at this point, but bloody hell if it didn’t take all of his power to not google what sheep genitalia actually looks like, especially when you continued, “Are you sure you didn't just come across one that’s brok– Oh yeah I see them now. Holyshit they’re all look so fucking mangled.”

Swearing under his breath, Simon typed the words he didn’t want to type onto his search engine. Regret with a capital R hits him and he was too late to hold his voice in and lets out a disgusted noise that was louder than intended.

His notification bar popped up on his phone from you.

SORRY HAHA i was trying to be quieter DID YOU GOOGLE THEM

i did. guess im not sleepin tonight

thats what you get for listening in heheh >:3 maybe you can traumatise your friends with this newfound knowledge?

—

Groaning, he racked his brain on how to word what he was going to say in the most atrocious, horrific, macabre way possible but also came off nonchalant.

He mulled over the thought and dug in the deepest crevice of his vest to produce his phone. Soap fidgeted in his peripherals.

“LT, what tae fuck.”

He heard the tied-up man snort.

Oh. He thinks the Lieutenant in the skull mask is an idiot for bringing his phone to the battlefield. This is a start.

“It’s all right, Sergeant. This is important.”

He powered his phone on, typing his password the moment the screen lit up. The battery showed 62%. It should be more than enough. The sim card was taken out and he had one of the IT staff tinker with it when it was brand new. Opening the gallery and scrolling a little bit, he found the picture he was looking for.

He puts the brightness up to max before talking to the man. “So. Do you know what a sheep’s dick looks like?” Not waiting for an answer, he showed him the picture on his phone. It doesn't look like anything but shredded meat. “Yours will look like this if you don’t tell us what we want.”

Flinching a little, the man tried so hard not to react but Ghost can see him breathing harder.

“I don’t have a picture for the second option, but you’ve heard of anal prolapse, right? It’s when the last bit of your large intestine drops out of your arse. Nasty thing. You can’t control your bowel movement, there’s blood and mucus comin’ out, all that shit.” He handed the tools he was holding over to Arthur, the closest one standing to him. “But did you know there’s a urethra prolapse? I can’t describe it very well because of all the blood but it looks like a lil’ purple doughnut on the tip of your dick. Magenta If I can be fancy with my words.”

Arthur tensed next to him, making the dog let out a distressed whine.

“There will be three choices for you today. One. You tell us the info we need. Two, I mangle your mediocre cock so bad you wish I’d cut it off, or three, I make two doughnuts. Back and front.” He pointed downwards, vaguely to where his crotch is.

“Ghost that's against the Geneva Convention.” Soap spoke up.

The man comically nods.

“Nah. If I start using him as a meat shield out there, then it's against humanitarian laws.” came his cold and calculated answer. “Does he look like he’s surrendered? He’s not even hors de combat. If we do this to him after he gives us good intel, then we'll get tried at the Hague. No. This guy fell into a paper shredder dick first you see. Pure accident.”

Gaz cleared his throat uneasily, realising what could have happened with the raccoons they collected a couple months back. “Ghost…”

He stood up, asking for the tools he handed over earlier. Tilting his head towards the man, he commanded, “Soap, take his pants off.”

It was silent for what seemed like an eternity with no one daring to move before the unfortunate Cordis Die member gritted out the information they needed with what looked like hot tears in his eyes. Soap relayed the info to Laswell while they moved to a more secure place, preferably with a roof and all four walls intact.

Arthur spoke up for the first time as they checked their weapons and placed all their tools back in their respective pockets. He walked closer to the man, “Y’ Should learn about humanitarian laws, does a lot of good in these situations.”

“Oh come oan Arthur, why tae fuck are you teachin’ him tings?”

His face was completely hidden under his golden metallic mask but everyone could tell he’s frowning, “He’s young, maybe if more people taught him he would have known better than to join Cordis Die.”

Laswell had estimated their extraction would not be for another three hours so they all had a little time for themselves. Arthur had let Merlin out of what Soap called “the arse papoose” and the rest of the men had joined in giving the dog pats and bellyrubs. Merlin had been relieved off of work, and Ghost would be lying if he didn’t eye the pup with envy.

Soap approached him with the widest grin he has ever sported on his face while holding onto the top part of his vest and Ghost wishes he could disappear into thin air right now. He has seen the same gesture and expression coming from Price, so he knows he’s gonna get made.

“So… Urethras eh?”

“What, Johnny?” He glared at the Scot with all the leftover anger he could muster, which is barely any since their mission went well and he didn’t have to use excess force on another soldier.

His Sergeant didn’t even regard him seriously and continued, grin wider than ever. Man was practically beaming. “Was the raccoon their idea too, then?”

Soap couldn't see Ghost’s face, but he has been around Simon long enough—been in many dire situations together enough—to know just by looking at his eyes that the stupid Brit is smiling brightly.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #call of duty imagines #call of duty #scuffed writing

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use-your-telescope · 1 month

Text

When Everything's Made to be Broken - Chapter 19: Would You Count on Me?

Summary: When Theo’s down and out, Loki recruits the other Avengers to help lift her back up.

Contents: Similar to the last chapter, descriptions of vomiting in relation to describing a migraine. Canon typical injury descriptions. Some very (very) brief mentions of IV/needles? Soft moments and fluff.

Word Count: 6,296

Read on AO3 | When Everything's Made to be Broken Masterlist

Song: Easy Money - Lights

I expect you on your worst behavior I am a giver but you know I'm not a taker, yeah When you're riding in the night, I'll be shotgun, yeah Said you're looking for a friend, well you got one, yeah Until the last dollar Until the last dollar

Morning came far too quickly.

Even a pleasant, dreamless sleep for a few hours could not replenish Loki’s energy in the same way a full night of rest could. Yet, waking up with Theo still tangled up around him eased a surprising amount of his irascibility at his persistent insomnia.

In the soft morning light filtering in through the bedroom window, Loki took the opportunity to reassess Theo’s condition.

Though it seemed that a night spent next to Loki with his reduced temperature helped, Theo still felt far too warm. Remnants of tear tracks lingered on fever-flushed cheeks, while her eyelids remained red and swollen with irritation. An indigo bruise, likely from the prior evening’s combat, had appeared overnight along the hollow of her cheek. It was relatively small - a bit larger than a knuckle, by Loki’s estimate - but the stark contrast of the bruise versus Theo’s gaunt complexion gave the impression that it was quite the blow.

All in all, Theo looked as if she could sleep for a year and it still would not be enough to feel rejuvenated.

Theo obviously needed a healer, yet Loki’s previous attempts to convince her had not proved fruitful; whether stubborn pride or an impaired mind from the illness caused such profound refusal, Loki was not sure.

Maximoff might have more success; she possessed a keen sense for how to approach individuals in a rather vulnerable state.

Enlisting Maximoff’s help, however, meant explaining why Theo was in Loki’s bedchamber and not her own. And though Loki trusted that Maximoff would not focus on the oddity of the circumstances, he did not trust that anyone else who caught wind of the situation would be so kind.

Briefly, the idea of returning Theo to her quarters before seeking Maximoff’s assistance came to mind. After considering the logistics, Loki quickly dismissed the idea; if he brought her back without waking her, she might become distressed upon waking in the location she specifically requested to avoid for the night. To gain Theo’s consent to return to her quarters, Loki would need to wake her, and that raised the possibility of an awkward conversation about why they laid with each other. Not to mention the possibility she would reject the proposal, which would mean Loki had roused her for nothing.

Upon concluding that Maximoff’s assistance would be necessary, Loki carefully untangled himself from Theo and slipped from the bed. After dressing for the day, he fixed the bedcovers on his side of the bed to give the impression Theo slept alone, then retrieved a pillow to place on the sofa in his great room.

In his great room, he set the pillow at one end of the sofa, then laid atop it and conjured a blanket to cover himself with, only to uncover himself and leave the items there to imply he spent the night on the sofa. Even if Theo was no longer courting anyone, Loki did not want to risk the impression of any inappropriate or questionable behavior. His decision to spend the night with her would remain between the two of them.

With the stage set, Loki looked in on Theo one final time to ensure she hadn’t woken. Seeing that she hadn’t stirred, Loki set off in search of Maximoff.

Knowing that Maximoff regularly took her breakfast around the present moment, that was Loki’s first destination - sure enough, Maximoff sat at the breakfast bar in her pajamas, halfway through a bowl of cereal as she looked over the morning paper. Her mobile sat in front of her as if she were expecting some sort of communication, but the screen remained dark.

Unfortunately, Maximoff was far from alone: Romanoff, Barnes, and Wilson also sat at the breakfast bar, all at varying points of their morning meals and routines. Romanoff and Wilson had dressed for the day, while Barnes sported a threadbare that he only wore for sleeping and had yet to tame his sleep-disheveled hair.

At the sight of Loki, Barnes managed a half-grunt of acknowledgement, while Wilson offered a wave and a short greeting. Romanoff, ever the vigilant assassin, studied him with a dissecting gaze that made Loki suspect she already knew Loki was not there for breakfast.

Maximoff, hearing the others, glanced up from the paper and spotted Loki. “Morning Lo—“

“Maximoff, I require your assistance.” Loki skipped the pleasantries, having little interest in anything social at the moment.

Doing so, however, piqued everyone’s curiosity. Wilson sat up a bit taller in his seat. “Oh boy—“

“—What’s up?” Maximoff set the paper aside, giving Loki her full attention. Beside her, Romanoff glared at Wilson.

“It’s Theo.”

The soldiers shot each other an unreadable glance, Romanoff returned to studying Loki with her perpetually neutral, yet mildly suspicious gaze.

“What about Theo - is she alright?” Maximoff frowned, glancing down at her mobile and then returning her attention to Loki. “I texted her last night but she never got back to me.”

“She’s unwell, yet twice now she has refused my suggestions to see a healer.” Loki ran one hair through his hair, realizing as his fingers caught on a knot that he forgot to address his own tangled tresses. “I’m hoping you might talk some sense into her.”

“Care to elaborate?” Romanoff shot Loki an expectant glance, one meticulously groomed brow arching to emphasize her question.

“Vomiting, fever, chills, fatigue,” Loki rattled off the list of symptoms he observed, careful to keep a neutral tone. “I suspect some aches and pains, though she did not admit to it.”

“Why’d she tell you that she’s sick, but not Wanda?” Barnes, notably more awake than when Loki first arrived, narrowed his eyes at Loki. “She tells Wanda everything.”

“She didn’t tell me,” Loki flatly answered, mirroring Barnes’s stare. “I had been on my way to the sitting room when I heard a commotion in her quarters and investigated; the noise was Theo stumbling to her washroom to be ill - I found her hunched over her toilet.”

Maximoff hummed, sounding appropriately concerned. “When was this?”

“Last night.”

“And you didn’t tell me then?” Maximoff practically leapt to her feet, abandoning her breakfast on the countertop as she rounded the breakfast bar and broke into a stride.

“Wait—” Loki called to Maximoff, who had somehow nearly reached the corridor, “— Where are you going—“

“To check on her,” Maximoff replied over her shoulder, “obviously.”

“She is not in her quarters,” Loki warned, to which the Scarlet Witch stopped in her tracks and turned back to the him.

“If she isn’t there,” Romanoff asked, adopting a skeptical expression, “where is she?”

Loki sighed; he hadn’t wanted to explain this in front of a crowd, but it did not seem like he had much choice. He steeled himself for the sarcastic comments that his peers would undoubtedly make in response before he answered. “In mine.”

“Whoa whoa whoa, back up—“ Barnes interjected, “— why is she in your bed?”

“Because it was the only way I could convince her not to spend the night on her bathroom floor.” Loki dryly replied.

“You couldn’t convince her to go back to her own bed?” Wilson questioned, his suspicion clear in both tone and facial expression. “Aren’t you supposed to be a silver tongue or some shit?”

“The charm of a silver tongue requires that both parties are of sound mind—“ Loki rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. “— I suspect she was delirious with fever.”

“Enough, we’re going—“ Maximoff turned, starting down the hall without bothering to check whether or not Loki followed.

A few rapid strides brought Loki alongside Maximoff, whose hurried pace was no match for Loki’s long legs.

Mutters of “this I’ve gotta see,” along with scraping chair legs, came from behind as Barnes, Wilson, and Romanoff rose to their feet, catching up to the pair of sorcerers with a light jog.

Begrudgingly, Loki allowed everyone into his quarters. An audience as Maximoff tried to talk sense into Theo seemed a bit inappropriate, but Loki doubted that he could effectively make the case without additional teasing, and he lacked the patience for such asinine behavior.

After allowing the others to step into the bedchamber, Loki followed and closed the door behind him. Audible, gasps and worried murmurs filled the air as the others saw Theo’s state for themselves.

In the time Loki had been away, Theo rolled over to the side of the bed with the waste bin, kicking some of the blankets off of herself and tangling others around her legs in the process. A sheen of sweat had taken up residence upon her brow, glittering in the morning sun. In the new position, the bruise upon her cheek looked as if a spotlight had been shone upon it. She appeared no less ill than before, and the evidence of the prior night’s tears remained fully on display.

Were it not for the faintly visible rise and fall of her chest, it would have been easy to assume she was deceased.

“Damn,” Barnes’ prior amusement faded, color draining from his face as his eyes scanned over Theo’s appearance.

“She looks rough,” Wilson stated the obvious, his eyes wide and lips turned down at the sight.

“You see the reason for my concern.” It was the rare occasion where Loki did not relish being able to prove his point, as this involved the suffering of a friend. He hadn’t ever seen Theo come undone in such a manner, and even at that moment he had no desire to ever see it again.

Meanwhile, Maximoff crouched down beside the bed, resting one hand on Theo’s shoulder. “Theo?”

Theo whimpered, shifting slightly before barely cracking one eye open.

“Hey,” Maximoff offered a small, concerned smile, “heard you’re—“

The unmistakable sound of retching silenced Maximoff mid-sentence as Theo lurched toward the edge of the bed and buried her face into the waste bin.

“Oh, detka —“ Maximoff rubbed Theo’s back as Theo vomited yet again. How Theo had anything in her stomach to expel after her previous bouts of illness, Loki had no idea, but apparently something had been there.

In the midst of everything, Romanoff had taken a seat on the floor, steadying the waste bin with one hand while resting the other hand on Theo to ensure she did not fall out of bed.

A shaky sigh came from Theo, whose head still remained in the bin. She remained in place, body trembling from either chills or exertion, as if she thought the fit had passed but she was not ready to push it.

“Theo?” Maximoff tried again, continuing to rub Theo’s back.

“What?” Theo groaned, her voice notably quiet.

“You seem pretty sick…”

“It’s a migraine.” Theo hesitantly lifted her head from the bin, then listlessly rolled onto her back and covered her eyes with one arm. “Give it a couple days, it’ll pass.”

“You have a fever,” Romanoff pointed out, “Migraines don’t cause fevers.”

“Mine do,” Theo muttered.

Maximoff and Romanoff shared an uncertain glance, both turning to look at Loki for a moment before exchanging a second uncertain glance.

“If it takes a couple days to pass, does that mean Loki’s not getting his bed back?” Wilson broached the subject, diverting the conversation from concerns of Theo’s illness towards the much less significant matter of occupying Loki’s quarters.

Romanoff, Maximoff, and Loki all shot Wilson their most venomous glares in an attempt to silence him, lest he make matters worse. In response, Wilson’s eyes grew wider, only then realizing his error.

“Shit.” Theo pulled her arm away from her eyes, cracking them open just enough to take in her surroundings; with a wince, she closed them and returned her arm to its original position. “Forgot about that… Sorry.”

The latter part of her statement was obviously directed at Loki, even though Theo hadn’t actually looked at him; that being said, she hadn’t looked at anyone during the interaction, so it did not seem to be an attempt to ignore or avoid him.

“Give me a minute,” Theo pressed herself up to sit, her arms trembling with the effort required to the degree that the prospect of walking back to her quarters seemed absurd at best. “I’ll go back to my room…”

She turned to set both feet on the floor, drawing in a deep breath before she tried to stand—

— Key word tried, because had it not been for Romanoff’s proximity and lightning reflexes, Theo would have ended up in a crumpled heap on the floor.

Instead, Romanoff caught Theo, gracefully steadying Theo while Romanoff rose to her feet.

“Let’s not overdo it, Kotik,” Romanoff quietly tutted, easing Theo down to sit on the bed, with her back against the headboard to support her body.

Face flushed crimson, Theo curled in on herself and wrenched her eyes shut. Her lower lip quivered as she drew in, then let out a shaky breath.

“Boys, out—“ Romanoff directed, pointing at the door as she narrowed her eyes at the trio.

Barnes and Wilson, all too familiar with Romanoff’s threatening tone of voice, wasted no time making their exit. Loki, however, hesitated; after all, he had every right to remain. The outcome of this conversation impacted him.

Romanoff glared at Loki, jutting her chin out towards the door, but Loki crossed his arms.

“This is my bedchamber. And, might I remind you, I was the one who tended to her last night.” Loki quietly challenged, mirroring Romanoff’s glare.

“Nat, it’s fine,” Theo sniffed, half-heartedly wiping at her eyes. Romanoff turned to Theo, frowning while Theo continued her attempts to gather herself. “He’s right.”

Romanoff sighed disapprovingly, but relented, returning the rest of her attention back to the bed.

“Detka, I know you don’t want to, but you really need to go to the doctor,” Maximoff sat on the edge of the mattress and brushed a few loose strands of hair away from Theo’s face. “Please— what if the person who attacked you had poison on his blade or—“

“No,” Theo weakly shook her head, eyes glassy and her voice pleading as she looked at Maximoff, then Romanoff, and finally at Loki. “It’s my fault. I used too much magic.”

Oh.

Upon the revelation, Maximoff and Loki shared a knowing glance.

Overuse of one’s magic - a situation Loki had experienced a time or two in his life, and not one he was keen to repeat if he could help it. Not only was it horrendously unpleasant - each instance rendered him completely invalid for days on end — but the embarrassment that came from one’s weaknesses being on full display brought about a shame that to this day, Loki could not shake.

“It was stupid—“ Theo wiped her eyes and swallowed thickly. “—I’m sorry—“

“It’s alright,” Loki quickly reassured, forcing what he prayed was a comforting smile. “Maximoff and I are no strangers to the effects of overextending ourselves.”

“Yeah, but I kept you up all night and then took over your room because I was freaked out from a nightmare—“ A hitching breath cut Theo off, accompanied by a pair of tears streaking down her cheeks, “—and now you’re stuck with me invading your private space for days while I puke my guts out because I can’t even walk back to my room—“

“How about this,” Maximoff gently interrupted, not an ounce of reproach in her voice; she paused to brush away one of Theo’s tears. “We’ll help you back to your bed. Once you’re settled in, we’ll call a doctor to come up and prescribe you something to manage your symptoms until you’re back to feeling like yourself - they've done it for me when I pushed myself too hard, and it really helps.”

“Besides, it sounds like we owe you a girl’s night with lots of ice cream and complaining about men,” Romanoff added with a wink. “That can’t happen until you’re healthy again.”

Theo narrowed her eyes at Romanoff, brows pinching together as she mulled over Romanoff’s remark. “How’d you know?”

“The internet,” Romanoff answered, then added: “Sounds like he was an ass about it.”

A quiet, watery laugh snuck out of Theo; with a small sniffle, she nodded.

“Luckily, you have a list of super soldiers and gods who would be more than happy to put Chris in his place,” Maximoff commented with a smile that somehow was both tender and mischievous. “And who would happily help you back to your bed. Take your pick.”

Theo looked up at Loki, a silent request in her eyes.

Romanoff followed Theo’s gaze. “Loki?”

“I’m willing to assist.”

Once Loki scooped Theo into his arms and they confirmed she wasn’t about to be ill, the trio emerged from Loki’s bedchambers to find Wilson and Barnes sitting there, staring at the door.

“Where to?” Wilson slapped his hands on his knees before standing, his attention darting from the members of the group to Theo, curled up in Loki’s arms.

“Theo’s room,” Maximoff answered, leading the group to the corridor.

“No doc?” Barnes questioned as he trailed behind.

“Making a house call,” Romanoff replied over her shoulder.

The soldiers and the widow waited in the main room of Theo’s quarters while Loki and Maximoff brought Theo to bed, only for Maximoff to dismiss Loki as soon as Theo had been set down upon her bed.

This time, Loki did not protest, though he did offer Maximoff a curious glance before taking his leave.

In Theo’s main room, Romanoff stood by the window, one arm crossed in front of her while the other held her mobile to her ear, mid-conversation with what Loki assumed was someone from the infirmary. The soldiers had made themselves at home on Theo’s sofa, snickering to themselves as they discussed something in voices too low for Loki to hear.

At the click of the door latch, both soldiers’ attention snapped to Loki, both wearing smug grins that made Loki’s hair stand on end.

“Out with it,” Loki grumbled, knowing one or both of the men had some snide remark on the tip of their tongue.

“I can’t believe you brought someone back to your place with no plans to hook up.” Wilson’s grin only widened as he spoke, eyes glinting and tone deceptively light.

“I’m not such a monster to abandon someone in a time of need,” Loki scoffed, opting to lean against a wall with arms crossed to maintain as much distance between them as possible.

“Never said you were,” Wilson held his hands out in a placating gesture, infuriatingly wide smile still on display. “It’s—“

“Dr. Harper should be here in a few minutes,” Romanoff interrupted, approaching the rest of the group while returning her mobile to her pocket. “A crowd isn’t necessary; Wanda and I can take it from here.”

“Fine, fine,” Barnes relented, rising to his feet. Wilson echoed his movement moments later, grumbling to himself about having to leave. “We’ll get outta your hair.”

Barnes and Wilson departed; Loki, however, did not budge.

“If it’s alright, I’d rather see this through,” Loki explained, after Romanoff gave him a curious look.

“Suit yourself,” she shrugged, taking up residence in the seat which Barnes abandoned hardly a minute before, perfectly content to sit in silence as they waited.

I'll be there in the hеat of the cold war I wanna be the onе that you're flipping your coin for, hey And if money is time, then I'm burning mine When you're off the line and I'm drinking mine, and I'm gonna see that we get all we deserve 'Cause baby you know that I'm a man of my word, so

Dr. Harper was someone Loki had seen in passing when he’d stop into the infirmary to visit with Theo, but he’d never spoken to Theo’s colleague. Over the time since Loki befriended Theo, he gleaned that the pair of doctors were friends, knowing each other from before either doctor worked in the infirmary.

To his surprise, the doctor did not knock before entering Theo’s quarters, strolling in as if she were right at home. Clad in black scrubs and a crisp white overcoat, and with raven hair twisted into a loose bun, Dr. Harper looked as if she came straight from the emergency ward, right down to the small duffle bag slung over her shoulder.

If Dr. Harper was concerned about Theo, she didn’t show any outward signs, casually greeting Romanoff and Loki with a quick wave before disappearing into Theo’s bedchambers.

Recognizing that it would likely be some time before any news, Loki finally abandoned his spot leaning against the wall in favor of the empty space on the sofa. If he were alone, he’d investigate the options on Theo’s bookshelf for something to entertain him, but with Romanoff around he did not wish to raise any suspicion.

Loki clasped his hands together in his lap, leaned back into his seat, and closed his eyes.

The faint hint of vanilla, likely from the plethora of candles Theo loved to burn, tickled his nose, as did the scent of fresh flowers. Beneath that, hints of coffee and something spiced - reminiscent of Theo’s perfume - caught Loki’s attention.

He smiled to himself, slowly drawing in another deep breath and basking in the smell. Sitting in the quiet, Loki eventually found himself floating in a place that wasn’t quite dozing, but wasn’t quite awake either; had it not been for the faint creak of door hinges interrupting the peace some indeterminate amount of time later, he very well might have fallen asleep then and there.

“Did he fall asleep?” Maximoff whispered, completely dragging Loki out of the comfortable state he’d settled into.

“No,” Loki sighed, blinking his eyes open to find all three women - Romanoff, Maximoff, and Dr. Harper - looking at him. He sat up a bit, rolling his shoulders as he adjusted in his seat. “I presume there is a reason you’re all gathered here?”

“You wanted to know what the plan was,” Romanoff said, some strange sense of amusement glistening in her eye. “We’re discussing the plan.”

“Good news is this can be dealt with here - honestly, between her photosensitivity and phonophobia, all the bright lights and sounds would make her feel worse.” Dr. Harper explained, attention shifting between the trio of Avengers as she spoke. “I’m going to put in for a home care nurse to visit and set up an IV with fluids, as well as what we usually refer to as a ‘migraine cocktail’ - it’s a mix of medications meant to treat severe migraines. Even though she’s not technically experiencing a migraine, it will still help with her symptoms. I’ll note it as PRN so if the medicine wears off and symptoms return, all you need to do is call down and they can send someone up to run another round of medicine and likely some more fluids.

“The only concern I have right now is about dehydration. Right now, she’s pretty dehydrated, which if not addressed can cause serious complications. Even if she isn’t throwing up, sweating a lot without drinking anything can make dehydration worse.”

“How do we know if she’s getting worse?” Romanoff inquired.

“I’ll have the nurse bring a list of symptoms to watch for - if you see any of them, call us right away.” Dr. Harper replied, then added: “the nurse will also complete a brief exam when they start the infusion and when it finishes, plus they will periodically check in on her to make sure things are running smoothly. If you’re ever unsure, feel free to call or text me. I’ll give you my cell number.”

“Based on your report, it seems you’d like someone to look after her?” Loki ventured.

“Ideally, yes,” Dr. Harper confirmed. “You don’t have to have someone with her 24/7, since she’ll likely spend most of the recovery time sleeping — but checking in semi-frequently is a good idea.”

“Anything else we should do to help?” Maximoff asked, her attention fully focused on the doctor.

“There are a few things that I’d recommend,” Dr. Harper answered. “Keep the room dark and quiet to help with the sensitivity to light and sound. When she’s awake, try to have her drink as much as she can - ideally electrolyte drinks, but water and juice are also fine... I doubt she’ll want to eat, but if she is hungry and she’s not nauseous, stick to bland food and take it slow.

“Otherwise? If she’s tired, let her sleep, even if that means she’s sleeping 95% of the time. Sleep is crucial for healing.” Dr. Harper smiled at Maximoff. “Remember, if you have any questions along the way, you can always send me a message or give me a call.”

After exchanging contact information, Dr. Harper departed.

“I’ll stay with her for now,” Maximoff volunteered, “Lokes, you were up all night with her; you should go, catch up on sleep.”

“I’m fine,” Loki protested, hesitant to leave despite the knowledge that the situation had been addressed. “Truly—“

“You pretty much fell asleep on the couch and you were getting snippy with Sam and Buck,” Romanoff countered, “You get that way when you haven’t slept enough.”

“Go to bed — I promise, we’ve got this.” Maximoff offered Loki a hand and a reassuring smile. “You can stop by later if you want.”

Loathe as he was to admit it, his sleep deprivation had become rather burdensome.

Begrudgingly, Loki accepted the hand and allowed Maximoff to pull him to his feet. “If you insist, I will take my leave.”

Upon returning to his own quarters, Loki went to clean up the waste bin to discover that it had been taken care of for him. Instead of sitting beside the bed, the container had been returned in its usual location, a random drop of water indicating it had been washed, as well as with a new bag lining the interior.

The thought of someone in his quarters raised a bit of internal concern, but the relief of not needing to complete such a tedious task quickly overtook the discomfort.

A quick snap of his fingers closed the drapes, plunging the room into darkness. Loki didn’t bother to change into pajamas, instead stripping down to his boxers before collapsing atop the bed. He rolled onto his side and took a deep breath, surprised to find the lingering herbal scent of Theo’s shampoo, interspersed with the salt of clean sweat and a tinge of vanilla, had infused itself into his pillow.

For the second time in less than twenty four hours, Loki drifted into a pleasant, dreamless sleep.

If your bills are late And you're low on steam You know what they say “Only the broke can dream” And if time is money And the math is right You don't gotta spend your money Baby, just spend the night, so

After three days of hiding away in her room while sleeping off the effects of overextending herself via magic, Theo felt well enough to emerge from her suite.

Having made the mistake of pushing herself too hard before, Theo knew it would take some more time to get her energy back, even after sleeping more in three days than she typically would in three weeks. But she no longer relied on medication to eliminate her nausea and pain, sudden lights or sounds no longer felt like someone drilling into her skull, and her fever broke sometime during the second day.

Feeling well enough, however, was not quite enough to inspire any adventures.

The lingering embarrassment of causing her own misery made Theo want nothing more than to hide away for an eternity, no matter how many times Wanda promised it wasn’t a big deal. One cursory glance at her phone showed an avalanche of notifications - news alerts about her and questions about if the rumors of her breakup were true. Being sick gave her an excuse to avoid talking about the breakup - after all, no one wanted to be that guy who made a sick person feel worse by bringing up a painful topic - once people realized she was feeling better, they’d jump on the chance to rub salt in the wound.

She hadn’t worked up the courage to look at any of the headlines, knowing that Chris’s most rabid fans would inevitably have plenty of nasty things to say about her. It probably didn’t help the gossip cycle that she hadn’t yet commented on the matter, but that was a bandaid she wasn’t quite ready to rip off.

And that wasn’t even getting into her embarrassment about what Loki saw, much less how she essentially stole his room from him for a night.

So, even though she’d been cooped up in her room for three days, Theo ignored the innate restlessness that came with recovery and stayed right where she was - laying in her bed, staring at her ceiling and contemplating the life choices that led her to her current state.

“I’m surprised you’re still in bed,” A low, velvet voice interrupted her brooding, prompting Theo to look over at the door.

Loki leaned against the door frame, arms crossed loosely and aventurine eyes sparkling as he regarded Theo with a soft smile. Dressed in a charcoal hoodie and dark, slim-fit jeans, he looked more than ready for a relaxing day at home.

Shit - Theo was not ready for this.

“You’re not one to remain stationary for long when you’re well,” Loki elaborated, leaning away from the doorframe as he studied her. “From what Maximoff told me this morning, you were supposedly feeling much better.”

“I do feel better,” Theo replied with a half-hearted smile and a small shrug.

“Yet, you remain in bed.” Loki stepped into the room, soft smile slowly shifting into a hint of a frown as his brows pinched together.

“I…” Theo faltered, unable to whip up some clever excuse or diversion. “Yeah, I’m still in bed.”

Loki perched himself at the edge of the mattress, shoulders tensing as Theo finally sat up in response. He watched, only looking more worried as Theo slid back to lean on the headboard, drawing her blankets up before looking back at him and forcing a smile.

“Is something the matter?” Loki seemed hesitant as he asked, searching Theo’s eyes for some unknown validation. “You seem quite distant. Have I done something wrong?”

“No!” Theo blurted out the answer without thinking, frantically shaking her head with enough vigor that Loki startled. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly before continuing. “No, you didn’t do anything wrong. If anything, I should be apologizing to you for the other night – it’s embarrassing that you had to deal with me when I was like that.”

Loki’s expression softened, and his shoulders relaxed a bit at the answer, though it wasn’t quite the level of ease that Theo had grown used to. “Why would you apologize?”

“Because you didn’t deserve for me to have a nuclear meltdown and to be stuck dealing with the aftermath,” Theo replied. “We give each other shit and joke around and talk about books - you didn’t sign up for me having a nuclear scale meltdown or picking my dumbass off the floor and making sure I was alright when it was my own damn fault that I felt awful to begin with. Honestly, I wasn’t sure you’d even want to look at me after that - I was a mess.”

As Loki listened to Theo’s explanation, his shoulders continued to relax, while the gentle smile from earlier made its return.

Before Loki replied, a quiet laugh – barely more than a puff of air – snuck out. “You forget who my brother is; he has most assuredly forced me to tolerate much worse, for far less noble reasons.”

“Puking out his guts and bawling his eyes out about a breakup with no explanation, then taking over your bed and preventing you from getting any sleep while getting his sweat and probably some vomit on it?” Theo skeptically challenged, narrowing her eyes at Loki.

He laughed, hiding his smile behind one hand as he shook his head. “Darling, when it comes to Thor, that wouldn’t even break the top 100.”

“I’m not sure I believe you, but alright,” Theo conceded; Loki’s answers had eased a bit of her embarrassment, but she wasn’t entirely over the discomfort. “Either way, thanks– for the other night, and for not making me feel worse about it afterwards.”

“Of course,” Loki answered like he had been thanked for something simple like handing Theo a pencil, not dropping everything to be there for Theo when she completely fell apart. He opened his mouth to speak, paused for a moment, then added: “Has it occurred to you that you give all your time, compassion, and energy to caring for others in their time of need, without judgment, yet you refuse to consider that others might wish to do the same for you?”

Theo, caught off guard by Loki’s observation, laughed nervously.

“That’s a conversation for my therapist.” She tried to make it sound like a joke, hoping that Loki would get the hint to drop the subject for the moment.

“Are there other matters that keep you confined to your bed, or are those only discussed with your therapist?” Loki tried, infusing a similarly lighthearted tone to his question.

Knowing Loki, he’d figure it out sooner or later; no use in delaying the inevitable.

“I’m not ready for the questions and comments about Chris,” Theo admitted, staring down at her hands as she wrung them in her lap. “Or the pity looks that come with getting dumped. Or people’s reactions to learning I literally made myself sick from magic.”

The bed shifted beneath Theo; she looked up to find Loki moving to sit beside her, intentionally leaning over to bump her shoulder with his.

“You’re not the first Avenger to endure heartbreak - the others know well enough to let you address the matter on your terms. Though I will say, Romanoff and Maximoff have an arsenal of insipid - truly, downright asinine romantic comedies ready for when you want to partake in your quote-unquote girl’s night.” Loki chuckled to himself as he continued: “Additionally, Belova and Barnes have started a competition of who can come up with the most overly-elaborate revenge schemes; I’m certain they would love to indulge you if you’re feeling particularly spiteful. Even Rogers has contributed an idea or two.”

The thought of Steve, of all people, proposing a revenge plot coaxed a real laugh out of Theo, which in turn widened Loki’s grin.

“As for the rest of Midgard, they are not even aware you were ill; they simply think you’ve been occupied with matters related to the Avengers, and far too busy with truly important work to concern yourself with a pathetic Midgardian who could not even show you the respect of ending the relationship face-to-face.” Loki added, his tone shifting to downright disgust as he described Chris.

“You sound pissed at him…” Theo commented, not sure what to make of Loki’s sudden shift in temper.

“I will admit, I may have assisted in the development of a few of Barnes and Belova’s revenge fantasies.” Just like that, Loki returned to his usually clever self, offering Theo an impish grin to accompany his wry remark. “But we need not discuss further, if you wish.”

“Maybe later.” Without thinking, Theo let her head tilt to the side, resting on Loki’s shoulder; the conversation with Loki had alleviated some of her worries, enough to make her reconsider the decision to stay in bed. “A change of scenery would be nice.”

Loki turned to Theo; with the angle of her head upon his shoulder, Theo could feel Loki’s satisfied grin as it curled over his lips.

“I knew you wouldn’t stay hidden away for long,” Loki murmured, his breath a comforting warmth upon Theo’s scalp. He sat up and away from the headboard, rising effortlessly from the bed before offering a hand to Theo and helping her to her feet. His hand found a place on the small of her back as they walked through Theo’s suite, reminding Theo of all the other times Loki naturally looked out for her, all the while never making her feel uncomfortable or guilty about it. It struck her that for so long, Loki was seen as a bad person because of past events, but the reality was that anyone would be lucky to have him as a friend - Theo certainly felt lucky to have him looking out for her.

Just before they reached the door, Theo turned to Loki and threw her arms around him, hugging him tight.

A small grunt of surprise came from Loki, though he returned the gesture without missing a beat.

“I know I said it before, but really - thank you,” Theo tried to explain herself as she leaned away, cheeks heating up at how basic she sounded. “As embarrassing as the whole meltdown thing was, I’m glad you were the one there to help me through it.”

Loki leaned away as well, a sheepish smile on his face as he replied:

“I’m glad I was, too.”

Tell me, would you put your money on me? Count it - one, two, three Both of us are trouble with a capital “T” But you're safe with me I wanna know baby, would you count on me? 'Cause I'd bet on you, baby, that's easy money That's easy money

—————

Author’s Note: Hello friends!

I'm trying something new - author's notes at the end of the chapter instead of the beginning.

Last week had all of the hurt, this week has lots of comfort and soft fluff. And Sam and Bucky being Sam and Bucky. 😂🥰

Here’s the deal: I’m about to head into the busiest time of year for work (between the 18th and 29th of March, I will not have any days off and will clock about 120 hours of in-person meetings and events - that isn’t including things that I need to finish independently); in addition, my capstone and independent study report for my master’s are due on April 19th, followed by my master’s portfolio on April 26th.

Over spring break I tried to write ahead as much as possible, but I haven’t made the progress I was hoping to make. As it is, this chapter is just sliding in before the end of the night. With that in mind, I’m hoping to sneak a chapter out once I have the chance to flex some time at work in a few weeks, but in the absolute worst case scenario, that first weekend in May is reading period for my students and when my schedule completely clears out, so I’ll definitely be able to share something then! Anyways, thanks for your patience, and hope you enjoy <3 reblogs are always appreciated, and lmk if you want to be added to the tag list!

#loki #loki fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #marvel #mcu fanfiction #loki x oc fanfiction #loki fluff #loki comfort #loki slow burn #friends to lovers #Avengers AU #wemtbb #when everything's made to be broken #loki fanfic #loki odinson #loki angst

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partially-controlled-chaos · 3 months

Text

Come Back to Me pt. 6 (End)

Pairing: Astarionxf!Tav

Rating: M

Warnings: Hurt/angst, comfort, trauma, fluff, trauma, soft jealous Astarion, tiniest little bit of smut towards the end? Microscopic but still there.

Summary: After an attack in the Shadow Cursed Lands, Tavriel is exposed to the toxins of fear inducing mushroom spores, causing her already weakened mind to relive the traumatic horrors of her past. Astarion and Halsin are forced to work quickly to cure her mind of the spores before the effects remain with her permanently.

Also read on AO3! Check there for more frequent updates because I sometimes forget to also post them here.

I also recommend reading my previous fic for some backstory on my Tav! Not totally necessary, but if you’d like some backstory you can find it here!

Masterlist

Come Back to Me: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

Tavriel ran her fingers across her brow as she waited for Halsin, groaning softly as her aching muscles screamed for relief. Her head was still throbbing and the mental battle she was currently engaged in wasn’t helping anything. Now that she was of sound mind, her previous conversation with Halsin before she stumbled into the mushroom patch was swirling in her brain more than the tadpole. She was fond of Halsin and admittedly had engaged in a bit of flirty banter from time to time, but she didn’t want anything more than that. Not to mention she was already in a relationship with Astarion. Given the very brief nature of the conversation, having been cut short by a shadow creature, Tavriel wasn’t entirely sure if Halsin was suggesting a quick night together or something more long term, but either way she was trying to form the words to use to gently turn him away before he came to check on her.

Despite her lack of hesitation to dispatch enemies in conflict or start a fight with a would-be war lord, confrontation among friends was something that terrified Tavriel. She had spent her entire life without friends or family, so the idea of potentially losing both a close friend and a strong ally simply because she wanted to set a boundary made her uneasy. It was needed, though. Both from the perspective of personal growth and strength, but the last thing she wanted to do was to hurt Astarion by engaging with someone else romantically. His happiness mattered more to her than her own; after all, it had taken them a long time to get to the point where they could be so open and vulnerable with each other and she refused to crush that so quickly.

Tavriel’s concentration was broken as she heard a rather large set of footsteps approach the door. After a brief moment, there was a soft knock against the wood of the door before it clicked open. Halsin soon appeared in the threshold, ducking momentarily to avoid hitting his head on the top of the doorframe. In his hand, he carried a large cup of something warm and Tavriel could only assume it was more foul tasting medicine, but was hoping for a fragrant tea.

“Would you believe me if I said I didn’t even care for mushrooms?” Tavriel said as her gaze met Halsin’s, a weak smile crossing her lips as Halsin gently closed the door behind him and stepped into the room.

“I can’t imagine you’re any more fond of them now. How are you faring? I have to admit you’re looking much better than you were,” Halsin asked as he placed the steaming cup he was carrying on the nightstand nearby, “before this incident, I mean. Nature made no mistake when it made you.”

“Well, I feel awful, but at least the visions have stopped, thankfully.” Tavriel chewed at her lower lip as the familiar feeling of dread slowly crept back into her chest, “Gods, they were real. They were so real.” With a soft touch, Halsin placed a large hand on Tavriel’s shoulder, pulling her thoughts from the pit they were spiraling into.

“Don’t dwell on the thoughts any longer. They’re over now, I promise. May I offer a spot of healing?” Halsin pulled his hand from her shoulder and stood in front of her, his large frame looming over Tavriel as she sat on the bed. Although Tavriel was reluctant to use magic to heal, she quickly agreed, desperate for relief from the agony that tore through her body with each movement.

Halsin closed his eyes and with a deep inhale, he placed his hands over Tavriel’s forehead and chest, hovering so he wouldn’t actually touch her. Seconds later, a warm, yellow beam of healing magic poured from his fingers and into her skin, making quick work of her wounds. Tavriel groaned softly as she felt the magic run through her. It was a soft, gentle caress that wove its way through her bones and muscles, repairing any torn skin and mending cracked bone. It was a stark and welcome contrast to the dark magic she had typically been healed with. Instead of pain and malice in the magic, there was only bliss and a hint of love.

“That will never cease to amaze me.” Tavriel murmured, turning her hands to observe the now healed flesh after Halsin had finished. The wounds on her hands had healed and the pain was surprisingly gone. She flexed few fingers a few times, smiling at the distinct lack of pain and felt around her sides and shoulders to also check if those injuries were gone as well.

“I cannot heal all of the wounds,” Halsin said as he pulled his hands from her form, “but I hope it will be a welcome reprieve. Wounds caused by dark magic cannot be undone. They are marred in the flesh so I cannot do anything to help the discomfort caused by the scars on your back, but I can help the others. A warm bath and rest should be enough to ease your old injuries.”

“Don’t worry about those,” Tavriel said, “I’ve learned to live with them. But thank you, Halsin, for this. Admittedly I’m always hesitant to accept magical healing.” After years of being forced through dark magic healing from her master, Tavriel was always partial to more practical methods of healing. She much rather would stitch a wound closed than have a healer touch her, but she trusted Halsin and knew he would not do anything to intentionally harm her.

“Healing is the least I owe you,” he said sorrowfully, “I failed to protect you while we were in the shadows. It’s my fault and I want to make it up to you. Healing is a start, but I owe you so much more than that, my friend.”

“It’s not your fault, Halsin. I knew the risks of going into the shadows. You did protect me, ultimately. I’d still be stumbling in the dark or lost in my mind if you hadn’t made it a point to help. I’m grateful for you and all that you’ve done. I don’t blame you in the slightest so you shouldn’t either.”

Halsin had seated himself next to her on the bed as they spoke, relieved that she didn’t harbor anger towards him for something that he felt was very clearly his fault. Despite her reassurances, he would still blame himself. He felt as if he had distracted her with his own thoughts of lust and wanting and that he alone should be to blame for her injuries. Sensing his self doubt from the expression on his face and has lack of a response, Tavriel placed her hand on his forearm, giving it a reassuring squeeze in the process. He smiled softly, placing his own hand over hers and allowed themselves to sit there for several moments. Halsin only stirred when the aroma of the nearby cup he brought with him filled his senses, reminding him of its presence.

“Before the thought leaves my mind, I also brought you something. Drink this,” Halsin said as he took the cup he brought with him from the nightstand, “it’ll help.”

“…What is it? I don’t fully remember everything, but I do distinctly remember the last thing you gave me to drink tasting like troll piss.” Tavriel took the cup his hands, giving it a hesitant sniff. Much to her surprise and delight, the liquid had a pleasant citrus aroma with a bit of sweetness.

“Just tea,” he said with a chuckle as he handed her the cup, “with a little honey. I thought you’d enjoy something sweet. You’ve certainly earned it.”

“Thank you.” Tavriel hummed as she took a sip of the tea, her eyes closing momentarily as the warmth of the tea settled in her chest and being eternally grateful it tasted nothing like the antidote she’d swallowed earlier.

Both elves sat in silence once again as Tavriel drank her tea, both feeling a twinge of tension in the air, but neither wanting to be the first to break the surface of the conversation waiting to be had.

“You should get some rest,” the druid said after a short while, “and get something to eat. It’ll help with the healing. And if I understood Astarion correctly, he should be drawing you a bath. Take him up on the offer; it should ease any lingering discomfort.”

“You should too,” Tavriel replied, “I can tell you’re exhausted, I’ve kept you up too long.” Despite his usual smile and gentle demeanor, Halsin was exhausted. His bones and muscles ached from the pressure he put on himself daily, but now even his eyes had become tired. Dark circles underneath his unusually dulled eyes were the first indication that the druid was fighting to even stay awake.

“My conscious would not allow me a moment of sleep while knowing you were fighting to return to us, but I will rest in due time. Once the curse if lifted I promise I’ll sleep for a ten-day.” Tavriel rolled her eyes with a smile, knowing good and well that Halsin wouldn’t allow himself to rest more than a few hours, but still hopeful he would listen to his body and actually indulge in a long rest. With a brief moment of hesitation, Halsin finally lifted himself from Tavriel’s side, ready to bid her goodnight before she returned her hand to his forearm and gently pushed him back down so he would sit beside her once again.

“Before you go, can we talk for a moment? About your offer from earlier; right before everything became so chaotic.” Tavriel nervously scratched at the lip of the now empty cup she was holding.

“Of course,” Halsin said with a raised eyebrow, “but are you certain this is something you wish to discuss now? We have all the time in the world to approach the subject.”

“I am,” Tavriel said softly and Halsin very quickly knew where the conversation was heading, “I just…I just want to clarify some things. I don’t want there to be any sort of misunderstanding or hurt feelings.”

“Admittedly I wasn’t able to fully flesh out what I wanted to say in the heat of the moment,” Halsin said with a nervous chuckle. Thinking back, he realized that he never fully told her that he merely wanted to share in her relationship, not to take her away. He was able to get that point across to Astarion when they were looking for supplies, but the chance to tell Tavriel had been cut short by a quick swipe of a shadow creature.

“I know you are with Astarion,” he continued, “and I can see just how much you both care for one another. When I presented you with my offer, I wanted to let you know that I do not wish to come between the two of you and the bond you have formed. That is the last thing on my mind, honestly. Instead, I wanted to ask if you and Astarion were both open to broadening your horizons, so to speak. I do not wish to replace or break, merely share. But I know that my way of thinking does not suit everyone. Everyone is entitled to how they wish to view romance, so if your views do not match mine and you do not wish to progress this further, then please speak freely. There will be no anger from me. Although, I would like to carry on our friendship no matter your decision, if you so wish.”

Admittedly, a wave of relief rushed over Tavriel in that moment. She was so afraid that Halsin would be angry with her for even thinking of rejecting him. She couldn’t help but remember the numerous times she had been beaten and tortured for turning down her master. In the beginning, during the first few times her master had started taking her to bed, she had the courage to refuse him. She didn’t want to bed the dreadful drow and made it a point to tell him so. She quickly learned to hold her tongue, minus the screams that would erupt during the act herself, because of the punishment she’d ultimately receive for telling her master “no”. Floggings across her back, knives wedged painfully in her joints, dark magic spells that would squeeze her brain until it felt like it would burst, or whatever else her master deemed necessary for her bad behavior. And although Halsin didn’t remind Tavriel of Master Oaklarth in the slightest sense, the anxiety caused by having to say no filled her with terror, much like the mushrooms.

“I’m so sorry, Halsin,” she said finally, “I hold you close in my heart as a friend, but I cannot allow it to go further than that. What I have with Astarion is special to me. He can be tricky at times, but there’s something blooming between us, but it’s so delicate. I don’t want to snuff out that light and hurt him in any way. I’m sorry, I really am.” The cord of uncertainly had returned to Tavriel once again, wrapping its way around her heart as she tried her best to turn Halsin away without hurting him too deeply.

“I asked you knowing there was equal chance your answer could head in either direction. I’m not upset with your answer, Tavriel, honestly. I appreciate your delicate nature, however. Makes it all the more easy in the end, but I was prepared for either answer.” He nods in her direction and quickly adds, “And I’m glad you wanted to discuss this now. It’ll help ease both of our minds and help us continue forwards as nature wills.”

“I hope there’s no ill feelings, Halsin. I really am sorry and honestly so grateful for everything you’ve done for me.” Tavriel’s face had worry written all over. She also saw Halsin as her closest friend, aside from Astarion, and didn’t want that friendship to end simply because she turned him down.

“None at all,” Halsin said as he stood from the bed, “I just hope I didn’t spoil our friendship with such an offer. Feelings aside, you are still very special to me and I consider you to be my closest friend and ally. I don’t want that to change.”

“I promise nothing has changed,” she said with a genuine smile, “I admire your ability to have the courage to voice yourself for something you want; admittedly I struggle with that at times. But, back to business and if it’s still fine with you, I still want to help. With the curse I mean.”

“I would be honored, especially after this incident, but please, rest first.” He said as he grabbed Tavriel’s forearm in their usual embrace, “You’ll need all the strength you can muster. And once we’ve finished our business here, I still promise to help you with your tadpole. And, if you’re so inclined, I would still be honored to help you reconnect with nature.”

“I would like that,” she said quietly as they gave each other one final shake of the arm before parting, “thank you, again.”

“Of course,” Halsin said with a gentle smile, “now get some rest, my friend. If you need anything from me, let me know and I’ll come to you.” With a final nod from Tavriel, the druid left the bedchambers and returned downstairs. A weight had been lifted from Tavriel. As much as she enjoyed Halsin’s company, she knew in her heart that she had made the right decision. Astarion deserved the whole of her heart and as far as she was concerned, it already belonged to him.

************************************************************************************

Tavriel quietly slipped behind the door leading to the baths, letting the door softly click behind her before turning her attention to the bathtub in the middle of the room. She stopped after taking a few steps into the room, a wide smile gracing her lips as she surveyed the room. The bath house was small and warmly lit with candles scattered across the room, resting on every surface imaginable. Steam from the water swirling up and into the room, mixing with the candlelight to cast soft glows all over. The tub itself was seated in the center of the room, the bottom and sides draped with white linen and filled to capacity with steaming, hot water. Tavriel caught a soft hint of lavender, no doubt an additive to the water to help soothe her mind and tired body. Although what really grabbed her attention was Astarion, seated in one end of the large tub, void of all clothing. His head was reclined on the lip of the washtub, eyes closed as his arms draped over each side. He held a goblet of blood from his reserve pile in his hand, carefully swirling the goblet from time to time as he inhaled the scents of the bath.

“I thought this was supposed to be my bath?” Tavriel asked as she approached the vampire, already loosening the ties to her trousers and stepping out of them as she walked.

“Quality control, darling.” Astarion said with his eyes still closed, “It seems I ran the water a bit too hot. I figured I could cool it down for you in the meantime. Now, of course, if you’d rather bathe alone I can always-” His sentence was cut short as Tavriel hoisted her shirt over her head and tossed in his direction, the clothing landing squarely across his face.

“Now that’s quite rude.” He said playfully as he pulled the shirt from his face and threw it across the other side of the room. His eyes had opened and his head was now sitting up as he spoke, watching as Tavriel cautiously made the final step towards the bath, dressed in nothing.

Her eyes were fixated on the swirling vapors coming from the water, almost entranced as she watched them dance from the surface. Tavriel held out a hand, letting her fingers comb through the steam, threatening to touch the surface of the water as a slight smile once again crossed her lips. She stood there for a few moments as she took in the feeling of the steam mixing with the scents of the bath salts. Tavriel felt a warming shiver seep down her spine as she felt the heat radiating from the water, the feeling almost being to much for her tired mind and body.

“You’re acting like you’ve never seen a bath before.” Astarion said as he sat up more, moving his legs out of the way so she could step inside, and placing his goblet on a small table next to him.

“Never a hot one. The streams and lakes we’ve been using haven’t exactly been warm.” She said quietly, pulling her hand away from the surface of the water, almost afraid to touch it. Astarion held out a hand, offering it to her gently.

“Then join me for your first, my love.” Astarion said as he tapped one of his fingers against hers to coax her into the water; the wood-elf still looking at bath in uncertainty. Tavriel lightly took his hand, surprised to feel his normally cool fingers to be warm after sitting in the water, and stepped over the lip of the tub. An uncharacteristically giddy giggle escaped Tavriel’s lips as her foot finally broke the surface of the water and landed on the bottom, her skin instantly prickling at the sensation of hot water.

As she made her way into the bath, Astarion couldn’t help but glance over the scars that adorned her front side. He’d gotten familiar to the ones on her back, but the front ones were rarely seen. Two sets of scars similar to the ones on her shoulder blades were on her body; one set resting under her ribcage and the other set nestled on the plump part of her thighs, both having seemly been ripped from her flesh. Another scar, long and jagged, rested on her lower abdomen below her belly button but slightly higher than the apex of her sex, one he had admittedly never noticed before. He pulled her eyes from her scars as they became hidden the more she sank into the water, eventually hiding them completely as she settled. Astarion softly placed a single kiss to the tops of the fingers of the hand he was holding before releasing his grasp, Tavriel’s hand returning to her chest.

The two elves sat in silence after Tavriel had settled at the opposite end of the tub, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping an arm around them to keep them secure. It was a natural instinct for her to curl into herself when faced with something new and potentially over stimulating; a method of protection that had kept death at bay for years. For a while she just sat there, cupping a small handful of warm water at a time and letting it dribble down her arm, watching as it cascaded down and back into the bath before taking another handful and repeating the process. Astarion watched as a small smile formed around the corners of her mouth, feeling relieved that she wasn’t reacting poorly to his gesture for a bath. He couldn’t help but notice how innocent she seemed with something so simple. Gods, he loved how she could find beauty in the most mundane of tasks.

“I was never allowed a warm bath.” Tavriel said after a long period of silence, her eyes flicking up to meet Astarion’s, “It was something that was only allowed for those he deemed to be worthy. For those that were perfect. I never quite lived up to his expectations, of course. So, as an alternative, I was always bathed with cold water from a bucket, scrubbed down with aggression from whatever goblin he’d smacked around that day. They always made it hurt.” A twinge of sadness hit her voice as she remembered the feeling of a scrub brush being forcibly raked across her body while splashed with the coldest possible water the goblins could find.

“Well, lucky for you my love, you’ll never have to worry about that again. I promise. Now come here and let me work my magic.” Without another word, Tavriel turned in her spot, her back facing Astarion as she inched closer to him so he could work on her embarrassingly messy hair. She felt her skin tingle under his touch as he undid the remnants of the braid that had managed to stay in tact, guiding her hair to fall down her back as he pulled the sections apart with a gentle hand.

“Lean back, love,” Astarion said as he gently nudged Tavriel forward so she would have more room, “let’s see what I can do for that hair of yours.” Tavriel did was she was told, leaning backwards towards Astarion, her hands gripping the sides of the bath to keep from falling back completely. Astarion placed a hand at the base of her neck and gently guided her down, her head almost in his lap. Tavriel continued to recline until her hair was fully submerged in the steaming water, sighing as the water enveloped her scalp with a tingling warmth.

The wood-elf closed her eyes as she felt Astarion’s fingers begin to work through her hair, scratching lightly at her scalp and using the warmth of the water to ease any knots or tangles from her messy hair. Her skin tingled as she felt his fingers and palm run from the base of her skull and along her head, gently pulling away any obstacles that would keep him from smoothly sliding through her hair. Astarion urged her to sit back up, but kept her close for a better reach. She was nestled comfortably between his legs with each one resting on her sides. Once she was sitting, Astarion grabbed a small bottle from the table beside them, being mindful not to knock over her goblet of blood reserves. He silently poured a small amount of soap from the bottle into his hand, lathering it in his hands before running his soap covered fingers through Tavriel’s wet hair.

She inhaled the scent of the soap as he worked, enjoying the fragrant warmth of vanilla that was beginning to emerge and mix with the lavender scents coming from the bath. Tavriel felt her body relax the more he worked, enjoying the way his fingers worked through her hair. Astarion worked quickly, but diligently. Making sure he covered every bit of her head and scalp with a thick lather before pulling it down into the hair cascading down her back. He raked his fingers through her hair multiple times to ensure it was coated and cleaned. Once he was satisfied with his work, he twisted her still soapy hair into one long piece and wrapped it on itself until a makeshift bun was sitting high on her head.

“Now lean forward,” he said while gently pushing her shoulder to the front of the bath, “let this sit a while. Given enough time it should soften that gods-awful texture you have.”

“Oh, you mean the burlap?” She teased as she followed Astarion’s gentle nudges.

“The finest burlap, darling.” He responded, the statement following their earlier joke about the state of her hair.

Tavriel rested her arms along the front end of the tub, leaning forward to expose the whole of her back to Astarion, before placing her head on her forearms, finding a comfortable position. Astarion poured a few handfuls of the warm bath water across her back, making it wet so the soap could lather properly. As with her hair, he worked diligently as he softly glided the soapy sponge down Tavriel’s back, making sure to avoid irritating her inflamed scars. He worked from the base of her neck and along her spine until he reached the dimples of her lower back before making his way back up to repeat the process. He smiled to himself as he felt his companion melt into his touch, her eyes closing once again with a long, blissful sigh as she leaned heavily onto her arms.

“You’ll have me spoiled before long, you know.” She said after a moment of silence, her eyes still closed. The vampire said nothing as he continued to work, happily washing away any dirt or sweat that had accumulated across her body during her fits of delirium. He moved meticulously across her back and along her sides, even up to her neck and across her shoulders, making sure to get every exposed bit of skin he could find. After he was satisfied with the amount of actual washing being done, Astarion tossed the sponge back into the water and ran his hands along her back, slow and steady as he worked his way down. He could feel several knots in her muscles, no doubt a stress response from earlier.

With a gentle pressure, he pressed his thumbs along her spine and started moving in slow, deliberate circles. Tavriel let out a soft moan as he massaged along her back, her body releasing tension she wasn’t aware she had been holding onto. She leaned more heavily onto her arms, her mind finally beginning to let go of any hesitations and slip into the realm of bliss. She had never been touched in such a way and, as surprising as it may have been initially, she was quickly learning to enjoy it. It wasn’t a sexual touch, but was still intimate in a way that was comfortable for them both. Her eyes opened partially as she looked over her shoulder, offering a relaxed smile to her lover. Astarion returned the smile as he began to trace patterns into her back, following the freckles that dotted her skin. There was a look in Tavriel’s eyes that stirred something deep within him and wrapped around his heart. So many times he had been looked at with an overwhelming degree of lust and desire, but this was different. There was no lust in her gaze, only pure, genuine love.

As Astarion rinsed the soap from Tavriel’s back, he couldn’t help but linger on some of her more subtle scars. The marks on her shoulder blades were quite obvious, but only up close could he really see some of the others. Aside from the very obvious implications of having the elven word for “pet” branded into the skin on the back of her neck, he often wondered how she obtained the rest of the scars. Long marks that crossed across her back, presumably from a whip, were woven between small puncture wounds and other small gashes. His slender fingers lightly traced over some of the scars, taking mental notes about where they were and how they looked. They were not similar in any way to his own, but seeing her back littered with scarring only reminded him of the infernal contract carved into his own flesh.

“You can ask about them, if you want. The scars I mean,” Tavriel’s voice cut through his thoughts, “I know all about yours so it’s only fitting you know about mine. If you want, of course.” Astarion paused briefly, unsure if he should take her up on her offer, but ultimately agreed. Admittedly, he was curious about the different marks that had been left on her body.

“Tell me about these, if you would.” He said softly, his fingers still grazing the raised surface of the longest scar that ran across the length of her back.

“You can thank the goblins of the manor for those. Before I was Oaklarth’s personal pet, I was one of his many experiments. He was more hands off with that line of work, so to speak, so I was mostly seen by goblins and the occasional troll. Any ounce of insubordination was handled with an whip. Didn’t want to return to the cage? One lash. Refused a potion? Two lashes. Fought back? Ten lashes.” Tavriel said with her eyes still closed.

“And these?” Astarion asked as his fingers traced several puncture wounds, being mindful not to be too rough with them.

“I forget the specifics, but most of them just came from years of being poked and prodded. Some in the laboratory, some in Oaklarth’s bed chambers, some from our little adventure. Knives, needles, fire pokers. That sort of thing. Although, the one you have your finger on now came from our pain loving friend from the goblin camp near Emerald Grove.” Astarion let out a chuckle, remembering the Loviatar worshiper that Tavriel had willingly let get in a few blows for a blessing.

“Who could forget that, my dear? Honestly, just remembering your delicious blood trickling down is enough to get me all riled up.” Tavriel chuckled as he continued to thumb across the particular scar, remembering just how excited the vampire seemed to get in that small chamber. Astarion continued to trace along the lines of her various scars, applying a gentle touch to each he could find.

“What about this one?” Astarion carefully slid his hand below the surface of the water and around Tavriel’s sides, making his way towards the scar on her lower abdomen. Tavriel’s eyes snapped open as she felt his fingers carefully glide along the surface of the mark, her muscles twitching as the memories behind the scar flooded her mind. She hesitated briefly. That particular scar having been the most painful to receive.

“It’s no secret that I was Oaklarth’s favorite. I was always the one he chose to bed each night and do what he wanted. But, given the course of nature, bedding me had the potential of…risks.” She paused momentarily, trying to decide the most delicate way to word things, “Oaklarth wanted a lot of things. Money, power, influence, control over others. However, what he never wanted was offspring. Why bother being a father when you could just be a master to a number of slaves. So, to prevent an accident on one of his many long nights, he took care of that problem. He stripped me of my ability to bear children before he ever touched me. He never wanted the slim chance of that happening. Master would always say that carrying a child would taint me for him. The idea of it absolutely repulsed him.”

“What did, or do, you want?” He asked as he pulled his hand from her scar and returned it to her back. Astarion began tracing patterns among her freckles with a soft touch, hoping to ease at least some of the discomfort Tavriel was battling with.

“Meaning do I ever want a child?” Astarion nodded at her response, “Well, truth be told…I’m not sure. I don’t give it much thought, honestly. There’s really no point in wanting what you can’t have, no? Although, I have to admit, seeing those displaced children at Emerald Grove made the idea flit back into my mind for a while.” There was almost a sadness to her voice as she spoke.

“However,” she continued after a brief moment of silence. “the idea of being responsible of bringing a child into that world, his world, was repulsive to me as well. His other little experiments and I were put through enough so I don’t want to image what the poor soul of a child would endure. What he did, as painful as it was, was for the best. One sacrifice from me to save another was well worth that nightmare of an operation.”

“You weren’t conscious for that, were you?” Astarion asked as the meaning behind her words finally clicked. Surely she was sedated for an operation such as that?

“Of course I was.” She said as she looked back at him, “You don’t think he was generous enough to make me sleep for it, do you? Oh no, he made sure that was a second punishment all by itself. Admittedly, it was fast, but it was brutal. The more I squirmed, the more jagged the cut was. His surgeon wasn’t exactly using the best medical equipment, so whatever knife he could find lying around was good enough for the job. A few minutes on a table, a couple of strokes with a dull knife, and enough potions and dark magic spells to keep from dying and it was all over.” She turned her head back to its previous position. She stared at the wall across from her as she remembered, but was still thankful that it wasn’t the memory that the mushrooms had conjured up for her.

“But Oaklarth watched every second. He couldn’t afford room for mistakes, so he stood and watched to make sure it was all done correctly, or so he said. I think he watched because it excited him. The screams, the begging, the pleading…all of it just set him off. Coupled with the fact that he couldn’t touch me for at least a day only made it worse. He wanted to test to see if it was a success the next day, of course. Gods, he was relentless. Brutal, even.” Tavriel’s nails dug into the wooden slats of the tub, tears threatening to well in her eyes.

“I’m sorry, my love. Truly. If I could make them better, I would.” Astarion said as he placed a gentle kiss between her shoulder blades, his hands resting on her hips as he thumbs drew small circles in her soft skin, “Just don’t tell the others though, I’m not quite as fond of them as I am of you.”

“Damn,” she said with a feigned hurt, “and here I was planning on telling Gale that you were offering bath assistance. He’ll be disappointed, you know.”

Astarion squeezed along her sides at her remarks, his fingertips lightly digging into the ticklish parts of her skin. She squealed quietly at the sensation, lifting herself up briefly to escape the wonderfully prickly sensation it brought. Astarion used this new position to pull her close to him until her back was pressed securely to his chest and her lower body was now seated fully between his legs. Tavriel’s head rested on his shoulder, being careful to not to coat the side of his face with the soap still soaking in her hair. She brought a hand up to lightly stroke his cheek as she looked at him, a small smile on her lips.

“Thank you,” she said softly, “for everything. I truly don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’d be stuck with Gale, I’m afraid.” He said with a smile as his lightly kissed her fingertips. She gave a small snort and rolled her eyes before nestling her head back against Astarion’s shoulder, her eyes closing as she allowed the water to soak her tired bones.

“May I ask you something?” Astarion asked against her ear after a long period of silence and was answered with a nod before continuing, “Your master was obsessed with perfection, was he not?”

“It’s what he lives by. Making sure everything and everyone is perfect in every way.” Tavriel said with almost a mocking tone, her lip snarling slightly before regaining her composure.

“Then why would he mark you in such ways? Surely he of all people would know that scarring a body is a slap in the face to the idea of perfection.” Realizing that his statement may be taken the wrong way, he quickly amended it by adding, “Although I do want to be clear that I don’t think less of you because of them. Simply a thought experiment.”

“Ah, see, that’s the trick. His idea of perfection is based just on that. His idea and not what is traditionally considered perfect or even the opinions of those around him. He scarred me the way he did because he felt that he was doing me a great service. My body was perfect because of what he did to it. I was born horrendously flawed and imperfect, but thanks to his most noble efforts, he saved me from a life of imperfection and inferiority and pulled me to the light of perfection in his image. He was still making adjustments up until the mind flayers snatched me up.” Her voice was laced with venom and rage as she spoke, her shoulders once again tensing at the thought. Astarion quickly began massaging at her shoulders, trying to break the tension building in her muscles and once again bring her into a relaxed state.

“A true believer that beauty is in the eye of the beholder, hm?” Astarion asked as Tavriel’s shoulders dropped once again and loosened at his efforts.

“Indeed.” She said softly before pausing for a moment, “What do you see?” Tavriel’s question was similar to the one Astarion had asked her weeks prior when she caught him trying to steal a look at his own reflection in a hand mirror. Astarion’s vampirism kept him from physically seeing his own reflection, but in a way Tavriel was limited in what she could see of herself. Sure, she could take a look at herself in a mirror or reflected in a body of water. But she couldn’t see how others saw her or how she was reflected in Astarion’s eyes. Her master had seen her as an object to be used. Her camp companions saw her as a strong friend. Halsin had seen her as a potential lover. But what did Astarion see? Her voice had grown soft as she spoke, almost afraid of knowing the answer.

“A goddess.” Astarion said as his hands slowly traveled back down her back. He wasn’t lying, even though Tavriel found the answer to be a little far fetched. Tavriel was of course littered with scars and other seemingly traditional imperfections, but that didn’t matter to the vampire. To him, she was the perfect embodiment of a goddess that deserved praise and worship at all times. She was beautiful, yes, but she was so much more than that. Despite her years of torture and torment, she still had a large heart. She truly cared for others and would go out of her way to help those in need. In the beginning, this behavior would set Astarion’s teeth on edge, but as they continued to travel together, it was one of the things he loved most about her.

It would have been so easy for Tavriel to leave him among the wreckage of the Nautiloid the day they crashed, but instead she took her chances on a complete stranger that had a tadpole shoved behind his eye. She could have, and probably should have, rammed a stake through his heart the night he first tried to take a bite from her neck, but instead she recognized his hunger and willingly offered him her neck to sate his hunger and had continually done so ever since. He also reasoned that she should have banished him from camp when she knew he had originally tried to seduce her merely for protection even though she had done the same to him. But Tavriel wasn’t like other people. She was different and unique with a heart of gold and the lips of an angel.

“Now,” he said before Tavriel could properly react or respond, “let me rinse this out of your hair before you try to convince me that you are anything other than a deity in a mortal body. Head back, my sweet.”

Tavriel leaned back once again, letting her head almost land in Astarion’s lap as he supported her neck and lowered her into the water. She looked up at him and watched as he meticulously washed the soap from her hair, being mindful not to get soap or water in her eyes. He was gentle with his movements, once again scratching at her scalp and her head as the soap left her soaking hair. She watched the softness in his face as he worked, a side not often seen by others or herself. When he was finished and all soap had been removed, Tavriel sat up and ran her fingers through her silky soft hair, squeezing excess water from her coppery locks and, in the process, exposing her neck to Astarion. With her hair fully out of the way, his eyes scanned along her soft neck, drinking in the sight of his favorite part of her. In doing so, he noticed two small pinpricks along the side of her neck.

“Oh,” Astarion said with a bit of added flare, “it seems I missed one, darling.” He lightly traced over the fading puncture wounds to Tavriel’s neck; the evidence of his regular nighttime feeds.

“That one is the most mysterious,” Tavriel said, matching his theatrics, “I suppose I must have a nighttime visitor coming to me in my sleep.” She twirled a lock of wet hair between her fingers, enjoying the playful banter after a long few days of terror.

“A nighttime visitor? Feeding from our leader while she tries to rest after such a tiring day? How scandalous. I do wonder who it could be.” Astarion pressed his fingers to his chest in feigned surprised, his mouth twisting into a devilishly handsome smile.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Tavriel peered over her shoulder to meet Astarion’s gaze, a rare flicker of playfulness glinted in her eyes, “care to voice your thoughts and opinions?”

“Well, then let’s go through our ranks. Surely we could snuff them out,” Astarion leaned back, resting his shoulders on the lip of the tub behind him, “and quite quickly we can eliminate a few of our companions.”

“Oh? And why is that?” Tavriel said as she spun in place to mirror the vampire across from her. She stretched her legs along his as she rested her back along the edge of the tub, sinking slightly so the warm water lapped at her collarbones. She couldn’t help but take a moment to revel in the feeling of the warmth of the water seeping into her bones. Halsin’s magic had healed her of her wounds, but the luxuriously warm and silky feeling from the bath was almost healing her spirit. The water seemed to eat away at any lingering effects of the mushrooms and quickly replaced them with a delicious, if not unfamiliar, warmth throughout her body.

“They simply lack the proper equipment! Honestly, love, how do you expect someone with teeth as dull as Gale’s to pierce that lovely neck of yours?” He questioned as he picked up his goblet of blood, taking a long drink before placing it back down, “And with that same line of thought you can quickly get rid of Wyll and Shadowheart.”

“Do continue. You seem to have already figured out our little culprit.” Tavriel picked up the discarded sponge from the water, using it to wash down her arms and chest as she listened to Astarion’s justifications.

“Oh I do have my guesses. You see, they only leaves two companions who could fit the profile. And judging by your lack of scorch marks, I think we can rule out Karlach. Which of course only leaves one viable option. I never would have pegged you for being the type of person that would willingly let a githyanki warrior clamp down on your neck, but here we are.” Astarion waved his hands dramatically, the smile on his lips never leaving as he spoke. Gods she was so easy to banter with. She never hesitated to indulge his little fantasies of thought experiments or quick quips, no matter how taboo they may seem.

“You do have some fine detective skills, but I do believe you are wrong. You see, Lae’zel might have pointed teeth, but these obviously have been done by someone with just two very sharp fangs. Otherwise, I’d have rip and tear marks all over, wouldn’t you agree? And I’m thankful, quite honestly. I’m very happy to say that I quite enjoy how this little nighttime visitor treats me.” Tavriel said almost proudly.

“Enjoy? Darling I do believe we’ve found a secret little kink of yours.” He said with a playful wink and a nudge to her hip with his foot, only to be answered with a smile and a quick splash of water to the face.

“Oh, do get your mind out of the sewers for a moment. I’m quite fond of this particular visitor because he’s always so gentle. I never find myself waking up when he comes to visit, but I do always have the sweetest of dreams afterwards. There’s just something so…comforting about it.” Tavriel had a genuine smile on her lips as she recalled the feelings she would have when she would wake up to a fresh puncture wound.

The other members of the camp would call it predatory, but she called it caring. Astarion always made it a point to not wake her when he would feed from her, not wanting to disturb her with his own sanguine hunger pains. He would also make sure to clean her up if there was any mess. Licking away excess blood if it had managed to drip to other places and always covering her back up in her bedroll had become routine by now. And admittedly, she had begun to miss it. Since being in the shadows, Astarion hadn’t fed from Tavriel. She always offered him a drink from the neck or even the wrist, but seeing just how poorly she was resting in the evenings, Astarion didn’t want to add to the exhaustion by drinking her blood. He would be more than willing to drink from his reserves until the business with the shadows was done and he had promised more than once to absolutely devour Tavriel once they returned to the sun.

“He? How can you be so certain?” Astarion sat up with his question, a coy smile on his face as he leaned towards Tavriel.

“Call it a hunch, I suppose.” Tavriel said as she leaned forwards as well, stopping a short distance from Astarion. They sat there in silence for a few moments as Astarion’s gaze focused on the bite marks. He did feel a twinge of guilt, despite the playful nature of the conversation. He’d left a mark on Tavriel from his own selfish need to feed from her supple neck. Gods knew she had more than enough scars littered across her body from her former master, so leaving one himself did make him slightly ill.

“I do apologize, love,” he said after breaking the silence, “I didn’t mean to add to your scars.” Truthfully, the bites marks had become barely visible by now. Unlike the ones on his own neck, these were never permanent. Given there were a few days between feedings, the fang indentations were always gone by the next time Astarion would drink from Tavriel.

“Don’t apologize, Astarion, please.” Tavriel reclined once again against the edge of the bath, “I’ll have you know I’m actually quite fond of this little mark.”

“Fond? Of me leaving a scar on your flesh? Come off it, Tav. How is that any different from what your master would do?” The vampire waved his hand in the air again, his lip curled into a grimace.

“It will heal with time, but to answer your question, yes. It’s special to me, if you must know. Every other scar on my body was placed there against my will purely to inflict pain; to remind me of my worst days and most awful memories. And unfortunately when I look at my scars I remember exactly how I got them. I remember what it felt like. I remember the agony they caused and the sadistic joy they brought my master. I hate them, but they are a part of me that won’t go away. I can’t ignore them, but I want to hide them when I can.” Tavriel studied Astarion’s face, searching for any indication that her words were easing his doubts, but was only answered with a look of self disgust.

“This one, on the other hand, is completely different.” She continued softly, “They weren’t placed there to cause harm, but to serve a meaningful purpose. They were placed there because I allowed it. I consented to it. And when I look at the marks I’m not reminded of the horrible master I once had. I’m reminded of you. And, believe it or not, I rather enjoy thinking about you.”

“Why?” Astarion said, almost in disbelief, “Not that I’m not flattered, my sweet, but surely there are better people to think about.”

“I’m sorry?” Tavriel cocked her head and furred her brow, not understanding where the sudden change in mood was coming from. The light and joking banter they were just sharing had quickly cooled and turned more serious. Astarion’s demeanor seemed to change on a dime.

“Halsin told me about his proposition to you,” Astarion said with a small sigh, “while we were out looking for supplies to heal you. He told me how he had asked if you would be willing to share yourself, so to speak. He also extended the offer to me, but I have to say I declined. I’m just…not ready for something like that. I don’t think I can be. Not after Cazador.” Astarion’s voice had gone soft, the horrid memories of being with so many people quickly ripping through his mind.

“And did he tell you that I had not given him an answer at the time? That, as far as I’m aware, I hadn’t given him any inclination that I wanted to indulge in that proposition?” Tavriel sat up, concern now forming across her brow.

“He did,” Astarion admitted as he rolled his shoulders to try and shake some of the tension that had started to settling, “but honestly, darling, if you wish to indulge in Halsin I won’t be here to stop you. Although it’s not my preference, I wouldn’t want to keep you from a glimmer of happiness in this dark-”

“I turned him down, Astarion.” Tavriel cut him off, not wanting him to start spiraling into a monologue that would only hurt both of their feelings, “Just now, I mean. I couldn’t before. I told him that I was flattered, but I was not looking for anything else. There’s no hard feelings from either side, but rest assured that I turned Halsin down.” She spoke clearly and sincerely, maintaining eye contact with the stunned vampire sitting across from her.

“Why would you?” Astarion asked with a chuckle, almost trying to justify to the both of them that Halsin was the better choice, “Darling, I’ve had more than my fair share of lovers and that’s certainly left its mark. Certain things have been spoiled and tainted for me to the point where I’m not sure they’ll ever be considered normal. You deserve someone who can suit all of your needs.”

“And who’s to say that you yourself aren’t meeting my needs?” She asked with another turn of her head, her brows knitting together more closely as he spoke. The way he carried on made a pit settle in her stomach. Was he just self doubting? Or was he actually trying to find a way out of their relationship before things got too carried away? Either way, it was unsettling.

“I know it’s not on the forefront of your mind now, but given enough time you’ll want someone who can make you feel alive again. You certainly can’t do that with someone who lacks a function heart, let alone someone who brings as much baggage as I do. You deserve a strong, beating heart. One that doesn’t freeze when it feels a caress or sees lustful eyes from a stranger. You deserve someone that can show you everything the world had to offer without the limitations I’ll once again have after our little friends in the brain are dealt with. And, quite frankly, you deserve someone that can take you to bed and show you what genuine, untainted love should feel like. You should be able to experience pleasure and passion from someone who has a much deeper well to dwell from than I do, my dear. So, please, tell me why in gods name you would willingly turn down a person like Halsin.”

Tavriel almost lunged forward, water splashing over the side of the bath with her movements. Without hesitation, she seated herself in Astarion’s lap, each of her legs straddling his own as she took his face in her hands. She gripped closer to the side of his head, rather than his cheeks. Her thumbs rested by his ear, allowing her to stroke his ear lobes softly. Tavriel maintained eye contact as she spoke, displaying just how serious she was about to be.

“Because I don’t want that,” she said firmly, “I never have. Please believe me when I say that I don’t want Halsin as a lover. Don’t get me wrong, I greatly appreciate him as a friend and an ally. There are things I simply don’t understand as an elf. I want the connection that my people have been gifted for centuries, but has been stripped from me. Halsin just happens to be the best person out there that can help me reconnect, but I want nothing more than that. We can talk freely about things, but that doesn’t mean I want to bed him.”

Despite the grip to Astarion’s upper cheeks being firm, she held no malice in her touch, hoping that a tight grip would be able to get through to him the sincerity in her words. Her eyes bore into his, her gaze never wavering as she spoke. There was still a twinge of uncertainty in Astarion’s eyes. He struggled to wrap his mind around the idea of someone like Tavriel not wanting a chance to jump at Halsin. They had a connection, no doubt, and too many similarities in ideals to make him feel comfortable with her statements. Not that he distrusted her, but more so distrusted himself. Two centuries under Cazador always made Astarion question his self worth. Tavriel picked up on this uncertainty almost instantly.

With this, Tavriel adjusted her position. Instead of sitting in Astarion’s lap, she pulled her legs underneath her and rose to her knees, her legs still straddling his waist, until she was sitting higher than he was. Astarion’s gaze followed her as she rose slightly until he was looking up at her, his hands finding her waist to keep her stable in her new position. The soft glow from the candles illuminated her above him, gracing her head with a glowing halo of light and warmth. From this position, she truly did embody the vision of a goddess.

“Not only that, but I don’t want anyone else. And I certainly don’t wish to share. I want you. To be with you and only you. If you’ll have me, of course.” Her voice softened with her last words, now almost unsure of his feelings towards her as she finally tore down her own walls and let the vampire have a glimpse at the feelings she held close to her tender heart.

“When I’m with you I feel safe. I feel loved. Those are feelings I’ve wanted to experience my entire life and I’ve always had them ripped away. But you have gifted them to me over and over again and I never want to stop experiencing the sensation that brings me. Sometimes I don’t know how to express those feelings, but gods do I live them every day,” a small smile graced her lips as she spoke.

“I’ve never had a home, but with you I have one; a safe and loving home. I’ve spent so long in the darkness, alone and afraid, and you’ve managed to pull me out of that darkness. I’ve been lost for so long and yet you found me. You called to me. You have guided me to a life I’ve always dreamed of and I cannot express how much you’ve saved me. You are a beacon of light, Astarion.” As much as he loved the words he was hearing, Astarion couldn’t help but sigh. He knew Tavriel well enough to know she was telling the truth, but he also couldn’t accept that fact that she would actually be happy with him in the long term. If the shadows at present were any indication, she certainly wouldn’t he happy living by moonlight for the next few centuries.

“Darling, please don’t take this the wrong way, but you and I both know that my days in the sun are gone the moment we finally rid ourselves of these tadpoles. If you choose to spend your life with me then you’re dooming yourself to spend your newly found freedom in nothing but darkness. Living your days hiding from the sun and dwelling in any shadow you can find. Surely you know that. I don’t want to see you throwing your life away for someone who can’t even show you all the light our sun has to offer.” There was sorrow in his words. He had been hoping that Tavriel had felt this way towards him for a while now and he was basking in the glow of her praises as she spoke, but he also felt like he was about to throw all of it away with his response. But, he had to face the truth. He would never be able to provide her with a lifetime of warmth and light if he remained a spawn for eternity.

“I’m not talking about the sun, Astarion,” she said as she shook her head, softly tightening the grip on Astarion’s cheeks as she continued, “I’m talking about you. You are the light that broke through the shadows of my mind, not the sun. When I am with you, I am bathed in that beautiful, shining light and there is no darkness. I never want to leave that warmth for the rest of my life, however long that may be, sun be damned.”

Astarion had trouble believing that Tavriel would truly be okay with staying to the shadows. Hells, she could barely survive the Shadow Cursed Lands without turning into a fear filled mess. She needed the sun as much as she needed air in her lungs. Her own lifetime of being doomed to dark and gloomy confinement would only be continued if she stayed with him. She would never be caged, but eventually the shadows would cage her. He knew she would miss the sun as much as he would, but he couldn’t bring himself to maintain the selfish desire to keep her in the shadows. His inner monologue was convinced; She deserved warmth and safety and the sun and everything he couldn’t offer her. He, on the other hand, didn’t deserve her.

“Tavriel, you’re not listening. You need-” Astarion began to speak but was quickly cut off by Tavriel. She didn’t want to hear his justifications for why she needed Halsin. She just wanted him to listen and accept the truth in her words.

“No, Astarion, you’re the one who isn’t listening. I don’t give a damn about what people think I need. This is about what I want. The only thing I need in life is food in my stomach and air in my lungs, but what I want is to surround myself in things and in people that make me happy. I’ve been denied that my entire life.” Her eyes were beginning to tear and her bottom lip quivered. Gods, why was he so stubborn?

“For Every. Waking. Moment. Of my life I prayed for the gods to take me away,” her voice was almost a whine as she caught a sob in her throat, “to finally let me die and escape the hell I was living. But in all those years, they never answered me. They abandoned me and left me to rot in a cage. I know why now, though. I don’t have much faith in the gods, but I do feel so strongly that they brought us together at the right time. They finally listened, to both of us, if I’m being honest, even if it’s not the way I had expected.”

She paused for a moment as she tried to steady herself. This was too important of a conversation for her voice to start cracking and turn into a blubbering mess. She’d done enough sobbing in her life and it was time now for her to be assertive in what she spoke. Tavriel used one hand to gently brush a few stray locks of Astarion’s hair out of the way. Over the course of their conversation, they had fallen due the moisture in the air and had partially obscured his line of sight. She tucked them back into place, dipping her hand back into the water before running wet fingers through his hair, hoping the dampness of her fingers would be enough to secure them in place. She wanted him to see her clearly.

“I’ve never been afraid of dying, in fact I’ve always welcomed it with open arms,” Tavriel said as she regained her composure “but I’m afraid now, terrified even. I’ve stopped begging for death. I haven’t muttered a single prayer since meeting you. For the first time in my life, I’m afraid to die because I don’t want to lose this. I don’t want to lose us. I don’t want to lose you. You are many things to many different people, Astarion, but to me you are my hope and my happiness. You are my home. You are my sun. But more importantly, and above all else, you are my love.” Without another word, Tavriel leaned forward and captured his lips with hers, lingering for some time.

Tavriel would typically only give a quick, single kiss before pulling away, sometimes unsure of how long she should stay. But with this, the uncertainty was nowhere to be seen and she had never been more sure of anything in her life. She held the kiss, savoring the feeling, before finally pulling away for a quick breath before kissing Astarion again. She repeated this as he felt her kiss her back, losing her willpower to the new feelings creeping into her heart. There was a hunger in her movements and it could only be satisfied by him.

Astarion could swear he could feel his cold, dead heart beat out of his chest with her words and the feeling of her lips on his. His grip on her hips tightened as he pulled her back down until she rested in his lap and he soaked in her praises and her confession. Gods how he had waited to hear those words come from her lips. They kept swirling in his head the more he kissed her and felt her hands in his hair. My love.

“Gods above,” he whined, “call me that again.” Tavriel had never called him anything other than his name before. She was never too sentimental with pet names and even though he frequently called her the same, there was something much different and much more intimate when the words came from her lips. He ached to hear them again as the gentle warmth he had previously felt was turning into a much stronger burn.

“Of course, my love,” she whispered against his lips, “whatever you want.”

“Whatever I want? If I remember correctly, darling, I believe you said I would be offered a reward for all my hard work,” he kissed down her neck until he reached the hollows of her clavicles, leaving wet marks along his path, “and I’ve come to collect.”

“I haven’t forgotten.” Tavriel said with a smile as her fingers lightly raked down his neck and onto his chest as an unfamiliar, but not unwelcome, heat traveled to her core and coiled deliciously at his touch and words, “You are free to take whatever you want.”

“You,” he rasped against her, “I just want you.” Astarion’s breath tickled the most sensitive parts of Tavriel’s neck as he spoke. The very tips of her pointed ears had turned a wonderfully bright shade of pink and it was slowly spreading down the outer shell and creeping onto her cheeks.

“Then I’m all yours, my love.” Without needing another invitation, Astarion held Tavriel close to his chest as he lunged them both forward until Tavriel’s back was pressed firmly, but comfortably, against the wall of the tub. A large amount of the cooling water splashed from the side of the bath, soaking the floor beneath them with a loud crash. Not that either of them cared, of course. They were too lost in each other to worry about mopping up spilled bath water. Once they finished exploring each others’ bodies through kissing or biting or even lightly scratching and after the sounds of their gasps and moans finally quieted down, the spilled water would be a problem for later.

“You don’t know just how perfect you truly are, my darling.” Astarion said as he kissed along her jaw and continued upwards until he reached her ear as his free hand traveled along the length of her spine and around to her front, dipping under the water as he went. The dulled edges of his front teeth nibbled at her earlobe in time with his nimble fingers gently slipping into her throbbing core, causing Tavriel to lean her head back with a soft moan.

************************************************************************************

Astarion sighed contently as he felt the gentle, slow caress of Tavriel’s finger run over his forehead and down the bridge of his nose over and over again, the sensation feeling soothing after a long night of indulgence in the bath. After they had finished in the washroom, both elves had slipped away into their shared room to spend the rest of the night simply enjoying the company of the other. Astarion’s arms were wrapped around Tavriel, her own cradled his head and ran gentle touches along his face neck, and arms. The vampire held his head to her chest, listening to the soothing rhythm of her heart beat in time with her breathing. It was a soothing sound and, after the exertion from earlier, Astarion found himself more than ready to slip off into a peaceful trance as his love held onto him dearly.

Tavriel also found herself being overcome with exhaustion. The two days she spent unconscious from the effect of the mushroom antidote didn’t really allow her to sleep. Instead, she spent two days in a trance like state until the sound of Astarion’s voice pulled her from her never ending nightmare. However, now that she was safe and being embraced by her darling vampire, sleep was coming quickly to the wood-elf. Her finger traces were becoming slower the longer she went, her eyes becoming heavy with each passing moment.

“Rest, love,” Astarion whispered to the crook of her neck, “we have plenty more nights like this ahead of us.” Tavriel simply hummed a response, not having enough energy to properly respond. Astarion settled against her, inhaling the scent of the lavender bath salts mixing with her own natural scent as he fully relaxed for the first time in ages.

He knew they would soon rise and face another day under the Shadow Curse, but for now, while the inn was silent and his companions slept in their beds, Astarion granted himself the luxury of dreaming. The previous thoughts of being unsure of how Tavriel wanted to proceed together were slowly being erased from memory and quickly replaced with new, more optimistic thoughts. Once this business with the tadpoles was finished, perhaps they could stay together and continue with their lives intertwined with the other. Slowly building trust and love between themselves and reach the absolute bliss and happiness that both had been denied for so, so many years.

Perhaps they could travel the world, Faerûn was large after all, and see everything they could ever hope to see, even in darkness. It would be delightful to see the grandest cities that offered wealth and opulence, indulging on the finest wines and cheeses and occasionally lightening the pockets of a mouthy noble that crossed their path. Or, in spells where the finer things were hard to come by, they could even take haven in small cozy towns tasting fresh fruits and pastries, maybe even help the weary on the streets. All to end their day by finding a room to rent for the night to rest their tired bodies. And once they’d had their fill of a city, they’d find themselves waltzing through the vast country side while roughing it on a bedroll and a camp fire, collecting and observing the natural world and everything it could offer. Tavriel would have the chance to reconnect with nature, learning everything she had been denied the entirety of her life, and he could be there to watch her discover new and exciting things he would typically find mundane all while free from the fear of his old master.

Now, of course, they could also dabble in the occasional hero work. Flitting from city to city would of course open up every opportunity to stumble into their next great adventure. Surely there would be someone somewhere that could use their expertise in monster hunting or cult busting, they were experts by this point. There would always be people to save, children to rescue, villains to squash for good all while being praised for their hard work and courageous sacrifices. Tavriel could simply relish in the chance to help others in need, and Astarion too, as long as there was a solid pat on his back from those he had saved and a thankful smile from his lover.

However, over time they would of course tire. Hero work and debauchery would be exhausting and they would need time to simply rest and relax, especially after their work with The Absolute was finished, and spending all of their hard earned coin on tavern rooms simply wasn’t practical. He imagined they could find some old, run down and abandoned cottage in the middle of some plot of forest that they could take for themselves. Spend the first few months fixing it up by fixing floor boards, a fresh coat of paint, and new curtains and linens. Tavriel could perhaps spend the mornings making a garden, letting her develop a green thumb while Astarion stayed inside and decorated their little home so it would be warm and inviting. But of course spend the nights together, cuddled in a warm, shared bed doing whatever the hells they wanted ranging from late night feedings in the comfort of silk sheets to throwing those same sheets aside in a night of passionate love making.

“You’re supposed to be sleeping, my love.” Tavriel hummed softly, sleep not far from taking her. Astarion had started peppering her neck with feather light kisses with each new thought, as if to cement his dreams with her into their future together.

“I’m dreaming, darling.” He said softly into her neck, planting another soft, lingering kiss into the hollow of her collar bone. Tavriel smiled briefly, the curl of her lips fading ever so slightly as she finally slipped into a peaceful slumber while continuing to embrace the vampire. With a contented sigh into the crook of her neck, Astarion tightened his grip around Tavriel, before finally allowing his own eyes to close and slip into the veil of slumber. Whatever route they ended up choosing, Astarion would be over the moon with happiness. Anything that involved more tender, genuine moments between Tavriel and himself would be worth whatever they decided upon. As long as they were together, he didn’t care what they did. With her he was safe. He was loved. He was home.

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@meganwritesfanfics

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #tav #astarion #astarion x female tav #astarion x tav #spawn astarion #fanfic #astarion fanfic #astarion fanfiction #named tav #halsin #itty bitty Astarion smut at the very end but not the main point

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soleilnomoon · 1 year

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would love to order a red velvet cupcake, an ice cream cake, some banana bread, handful of konpeitō, & some dark chocolate, with caramel on top. i'd love to share it with #1 (ace & female reader) from the side menu, pls & thank you!

hiii i am so sorry this took forever, i rewrote it so many times but i think i like how it came out in the end ૮₍ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ₎ა love a good shower sex fic, so i had fun and it's ace so you already know he was doing the absolute most for no reason at all 💗😊 i hope you have fun reading <3

2.5k words, fem reader, nsfw, 18+, mdni; tiny bit of angst bc i can't help myself but it's very tiny, and smut bc we're nasty bitches in this house; feat. cute stuff like ace being the absolute worst™, fingering, kissing, public exhibitionism, shower sex; ace can be a lil mean when he's frustrated and reader needs to stop being a coward, alas what can i say *washes hands of this*

residual embarrassment — a parting gift from the night before — prevents you from looking at him and properly sorting out your emotions. you spend more time than necessary hiding out in the bathroom, hoping the day keeps him busy enough to forget all that you said to him. when your skin can’t take the heat from the water any longer, when your mind keeps replaying certain things over and over, you grab your towel and step out of the shower. thankfully, the bathroom is empty, leaving you to mull over your bothersome thoughts and contemplate what to do next.

with ace, everything is always so complicated. he lives life out loud, has no trouble voicing his opinion — especially on matters that have nothing to do with him — and tends to sniff out your bullshit before you can lie and cover your tracks. and, really, it’s not that you don’t want him to know the truth, it’s just that the truth is deliberately debilitating, and you don’t have time to deal with that. cowardice isn’t easy to deal with; it slips into your bloodstream and commands all your movements without remorse. your body is a husk — a seemingly hard exterior and tragically soft, pliable interior.

one crack and everything spills out.

if you weren’t so intent on throwing a perpetual pity party for yourself, you’d hear his footsteps in the hallway. and, like clockwork, he comes through the door loudly — boisterous and energetic, an accompanying lopsided grin, the same splatter of freckles on his cheeks that you like counting from time to time. tiny stars, randomly strewn on his skin, varying shades of brown that bring comfort whenever he’s too close to you.

but it’s not comfort you feel now, it’s annoyance.

you fold your arms against your chest and stare at him incredulously. he’s being absolutely ridiculous. “what,” you say, swallowing hard and steeling your features, “are you doing here?” while the bathroom is a shared space with ample room, you know damn well he’s only here to antagonize you further. you eye him critically and wonder for the umpteenth time why he always walks around shirtless. you asked him once and his answer made you blush hard enough to make you speechless — he was entertained by your honest reaction, that he decidedly teased you for the rest of the week because of it.

“i was thinking about what you said,” his steps are every bit as imposing as he is — brutish but familiar, making you take several steps back without thinking about it. “and, what i can’t understand is wh—” your hand shoots out and you slap it over his mouth; startled, ace stumbles back a bit, but ultimately laughs as you try to quiet him down.

“don’t. you don’t have to say it.”

his brows quirk at that; another interesting response, another reason for ace to stick by your side for the remainder of the day. you know how this goes, but you refuse to entertain his foolishness until the door opens again. it happens fast and you don’t think it through, but you pull ace back into the shower with you and turn on the water quickly. several of your crew mates enter at once, laughing and joking with one another, talking of menial things. you hope they don’t stay long, but ace keeps giving you looks and you start to panic.

it's funny, really, the lengths you go to deny your feelings. it annoys him, though; you’re so quick to dismiss things, to want to explain everything away, but this time you really can’t run. he chuckles at the thought, and you glance at him sharply. “it’s not funny.” your voice is barely audible, so he leans closer to hear you better, but you’re both soaked from the water so naturally he starts taking off his clothes.

your delayed reaction is ultimately your downfall; you stare at him, wide-eyed, shock temporarily halting your rationality. “wh-what are you doing? stop that.” it’s too late, though, he’s already naked. you know that it doesn’t make sense for either of you to be in the shower right now, but it seemed like a good idea in the heat of the moment; now you regret it. sort of.

“why? i don’t want to stand around in wet clothes.” his answer is sound, logical even; you just don’t like it because no matter what he does, his attractiveness never fades. he thinks you’re being unintentionally cute and funny, even says it to you when he tugs on your towel and watches it fall to the floor. a wet clump that’s currently unsalvageable.

it's one transgression after another with him; you smack his arm and he laughs at you, at your stubbornness and insistence on being extra difficult when you can easily let go and give in. but, that’s the thing — you’re much too afraid of what you’ll become once you take that step. still, you’re a bit mesmerized with the way the water glides down his body, taking a long moment to watch intently. when you catch yourself, your face heats up — and you blame the temperature of the water, of course.

ace, however, knows better.

the stalls next to you are now occupied, but you’ve forgotten about the intruders because ace is looking at you like he’s figured you out. “anyway,” he starts again, because he’s determined to have this conversation whether you want to or not, “about last night—” you shush him, place both of your hands over his mouth this time, doing your best to keep him quiet for fear of the others overhearing.

“there’s nothing to talk about.” you don’t want to revisit the absolute mess you made of your confession, of how you turned back and told him you were just joking, of how you literally ran out and hid from him for the remainder of the night — much to his rising frustration, although he likes that side of you too.

ace simply steps closer to you, body flush against yours; his hands roam down your back and grabs onto your ass. the intrusion makes you squeal louder than you meant to; suddenly, there are several voices around asking if you’re okay. ace smirks, you feel his smugness in the way his shoulders won’t stop shaking as he tries to contain his laughter, even as you keep your hands over his mouth. a pathetic attempt at handling a situation that keeps getting worse as time goes on.

“i’m fine!” you chirp, hoping you sound convincing. “just thought i saw a bug.” the resounding laughter around you both calms your nerves and annoys you. but ace uses the opportunity to back you against the wall and kiss the palm of your hand. it becomes a bit too intimate for you, so you release your hold, drop your hands and let them settle on his arms.

it's absurd, you know it is. even more absurd is how fast your heart is beating and how there’s a suspicious ache growing in between your thighs. you blame ace, of course; blame him for putting you in this state, where you oscillate between arousal and cowardice. he does his best to be patient, but your body is incredibly soft, and his cock is already stiff — a reoccurring pain in his ass. he more or less has an idea of why you keep running, but this time he’s certain things will work out in his favor.

you know that the more you deny yourself, the harder it is to resist him and you’re so tired of fighting. maybe if you give in just once, you’ll get it out of your system and can move forward with your life. he knows better than that, though, but you convince yourself that everything will fall into place afterward — where you won’t have to deal with unnecessary emotions, where you won’t have to constantly be on alert whenever he’s around.

ace places a kiss on your jaw, drags his lips down the side of your neck, teeth grazing your skin as he bites you playfully. despite how your brain has turned into unrecognizable mush, you manage to remain cognizant enough to wrap your hand around his cock and stroke him slowly. there’s a moment where you almost stop breathing, and it’s when you look up and see the heated look on his face, the intensity behind his gaze is enough to make your movements falter for a bit. you increase your pace — hand moving up and down in a fluid motion, thumb brushing along the head of his cock, swiping at his slit; ace’s soft pants and groans invigorate you, make you stroke him faster.

it doesn’t take much for you ignore the chatter and background noise around you, because without warning ace’s mouth finds yours. this isn’t the first time he’s kissed you, and it certainly won’t be the last — but it’s the first time, in a long, long time where you feel like your body is an inferno, determined to burn you alive. he kisses you with fervor and familiarity, as if he’s done this hundreds of times before, burning you repeatedly as his tongue caresses yours. you’ve completely forgotten why you were fighting him so much when you clearly enjoy the way he touches you.

you place a hand over your mouth once he pushes your legs apart, refusing to make a sound and let him completely have his way; it’s a difficult task since your pussy is the worst kind of traitor, arousal slipping through your folds without a care in the world. that insolent smirk of his — the one that tends to find him whenever he’s up to no good — makes its way onto his lips, causing you to narrow your eyes at him. miraculously, you refrain from slapping it off of his face.

his fingers move quick, grazing along your slit before slipping inside your dripping folds. his thumb brushes against your throbbing clit, rubs slow circles around it, and he watches you struggle to keep quiet. and while he wants to draw all of this out, he knows there’s only so many minutes a person can stay in a shower before someone gets suspicious. you bite your hand the moment his fingers slide into your needy hole, not bothering to tease you as he plunges them in deeply.

your hips jut forward almost immediately, his thick fingers scissoring inside as your plush walls squeeze around them tightly. he tugs on your earlobe with his teeth, fingers moving faster as he whispers unreasonable things like “why are you holding back, you were so vocal before” and “don’t cover your mouth, i want to hear you” when you insist on stifling each sound that threatens to burst from deep inside of you. it’s just so damn embarrassing, you can hardly stomach it — and yet, you keep moaning and looking at him; demure and aroused.

if your heart beats any faster, any louder, you might just actually die in that shower — with ace’s fingers still lodged deep inside of your cunt. not a bad way to end things, honestly, but you’d hate for anyone to find you compromised like this. and just when you feel like you’re on the precipice, dangling off the edge, ready to fall — he pulls his fingers out rather suddenly, your legs nearly give out and you whine unintentionally.

something about your reaction makes him laugh — maybe it’s because of how you can’t seem to figure out if you’re mad or happy at the turn of events, or maybe it’s because you’re already pulling him back in for a sloppy tongue kiss. he lifts you up, keeping your back pressed against the wall, your legs wrapping around him to hold yourself up. your hands shake while they guide the tip of his cock to your entrance, and you rub your pussy against him eagerly. tired of all the teasing, ace buries his cock into you — hurried and powerful, hips snapping against yours roughly. your hands grip his shoulders for support, nails digging into his skin, whimpering pathetically against his lips as you kiss him again.

you’re not sure if it’s the steam from the water, the taboo of fucking in the shower with others around, or if it’s just him but you forget yourself for a moment, drunk from the euphoria that ace brings each time he thrusts into you. he keeps his hips close to yours, barely keeping it together as he fucks you harder; your pussy is much too warm and tight, addicting without meaning to be. if he could fuck you every day for the rest of his life, he’d leave the pirating life behind without hesitation. a powerful notion, one that confuses him although he barely dwells on it. he’s much too focused on ruining your life with his intoxicating strokes, your arousal slipping down his length, making it easy for him to slide in and out without issue.

you’re not sure how long you both go at it, but at a certain point, all you can focus on is the way his breathing grows ragged and on the obscene, squelching noises that your pussy makes, his cock still thick and heavy as he pummels it into your aching hole. something builds in your abdomen, spreads through your body, brings a shudder to your chest; nothing can prepare you for the way your orgasm hits you — a white, hot fury that slams into you repeatedly. you lose all sense of decorum, lips swollen from all the kissing — parting to moan shamelessly. and when he whispers in your ear, telling you to say his name, you’re absolutely helpless against him; and you do say it, or yell, rather.

loud enough to rouse him into laughing at you again; loud enough to make the others who were lingering in the bathroom to gasp and whisper; loud enough that your voice grows hoarse afterward. he’s actually impressed with you and works you through your orgasm as your pussy flutters around him — creaming and overwhelmed from the ferocity of ace’s thrusts. he doesn’t last much longer, his mouth littering your neck with kisses, sucking and biting your skin. he cums inside of you without thinking — thick, hot, your nails raking over his back from how full you feel. you never thought that you’d find yourself in this situation, yet here you are, panting and clinging to him pathetically, heart pounding as you press your chest against his. you realize this won’t help your situation, but you can’t go back — you both know that. he places a soft kiss on the side of your mouth, and you almost cry at the intimacy. almost.

he makes a snarky remark about how well you took him and how he’s proud that you lasted as long as you did. you’re much too tired to fight him, but you remind yourself to berate him over it later. for now, you’ll have to deal with showering again and trying your best to keep your hands off of one another in the process. you never imagined your confession would lead to ace fucking you like that, but you suppose it was bound to happen anyway; you just don’t know how you’ll be able to face your crew mates later, knowing that some of them heard you.

at the very least, ace doesn’t seem bothered by it, and maybe one day you won’t be bothered by it too.

#fic request #milestone event #500+ followers event #🍭✨🍨sticky & sweet event🧁✨🍭#one piece imagine #one piece smut #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #portgas d. ace #portgas d. ace smut #portgas d. ace x reader #portgas d. ace x y/n #ace x reader #ace x y/n #ace smut #ace being a menace is canon atp

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bbygirl-aemond · 1 year

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Oh, can I please have more deets about the Lucemond Arranged Marriage AU idea??

Yeah sure I've thought about it plenty lmao. It's another canon divergence AU (can you tell I love me some fix-its?) and is basically founded on two main premises:

1. Viserys lives until 135 AC

Somehow Viserys is a bit healthier than he was in the show canon, so he has the strength to keep going for six years longer than in canon. By the time he dies in 135 AC, instead of 129 AC, things will have shifted within the families as a result.

Visenya survived her birth in 129 AC, since there was no throne stealing to induce a miscarriage. Corlys died in 132 AC (as in canon). With Viserys around to ensure his claim, Luke succeeded Corlys as Master of Driftmark.

By the time Viserys dies, Visenya will be six years old and Luke will have been Master of Driftmark for three years. However, as in canon, the Greens will still probably try to move to take the throne. But now we're dealing with two Teams who look different than in canon and who are in different positions politically.

Team Black will be in a noticeably stronger position (their dragon riders have matured + Jace has had more time to prove his competence + Luke has full control of Velaryon resources). So it sets up the stage very nicely for Team Green to be quickly (and relatively bloodlessly) overpowered by Team Black, for Rhaenyra to assume her throne, and for her to try to solve the house divide with her favorite trick: a few handy dandy arranged marriages.

2. Same-sex marriages are seen as valid political arrangements

I mean this is kind of necessary for when your plot revolves around two men being in an arranged marriage lmao. I have no trick to make this realistic, you'll just straight up have to suspend your disbelief. Maybe it's a Valyrian tradition that's kind of looked down upon by most of Westeros, the same way as incest is. I also don't write mpreg, so this would require some further suspension of disbelief that magic can be used to let two guys reproduce via a surrogate or smth. Idk man just go with it. But overall, this stuff will have interesting plot implications:

For example, Otto would have had a legitimate reason to try to pimp Alicent out to Rhaenyra, happy to embrace Valyrian taboos when they furthered his private agenda, but Viserys likely pulled rank to steal Alicent away and his subsequent relationships with both girls were more negative as a result.

Instead of proposing that Jace and Helaena marry, Rhaenyra would have probably proposed that Jace and Aegon marry, as the two respective eldest children, but with Jace as the sole ruler. (As in canon, Alicent would refuse and instead marry Aegon to Helaena, this time just because she's the second-eldest instead of because she's the eldest girl.)

The two betrothals between Jace and Baela and Luke and Rhaena would still occur. Jace and Baela would get married before Viserys died and have a child on the way. (Potential angst goldmine here for Viserys's death to still cause a miscarriage- just not Rhaenyra's)

But Luke and Rhaena wouldn't get married quite yet, leaving Luke betrothed but technically unmarried by the time of Viserys's death.

Add 1 and 2 together and you get Lucerys and Aemond: the eldest unmarried children on either of the two teams, right when Rhaenyra is trying to use marriages to unite the teams. You'll also probably get some attempt to marry Jace's bloodline with Aegon's within one of the younger generations, but that's not the main point here.

So you get older, very adult Lucemond by the time they even consider each other in a romantic context- Lucerys will be about 20 and Aemond about 24- and you also get a Lucerys who's already three years into being Master of Driftmark. Lucemond in this content are snarky assholes who are on fairly equal footing (Aemond having Vhagar balances out Luke having a title). Push them together, wind them up, and watch them go.

#i am trusting that writing this will help get rid of this lil brainrot #ask #asks #answered #lucerys velaryon #lucerys strong #luke velaryon #luke strong #aemond targaryen #aemond #aemond one eye #lucemond #hotd #house of the dragon

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eddiemunsonsimpp · 2 years

Text

Feral | Vampire!EddieMunson x Fem!Reader

Masterlist🖤

I am so sorry.

Part 2

This is 2 parts because it wound up being ✨4.6k words in total oops✨

warnings: this is a dark fic. Angst, violence, blood, etc. this is also just pure filth. Like. I need to take a cold shower after this. (Borderline non-con, blood kink, slight temperature play? biting, pinv, oral receiving and giving(m and f), general rough sex, lots of pain+pleasure mix, bruises, marks, etc)

18+, Minors, please for the love of god DNI💀

I make no apologies for how downright sinful this shit is but you have been warned :)

___________________________________________

Two weeks.

It had been two weeks since you watched Eddie die in Dustin’s arms. Two, grueling, weeks you had spent back at home, refusing to leave your bed. You barely ate, you didn’t sleep. How could you do anything knowing that you left his body there? Now, your heart was beating out of your chest as you slowly approached the trailer you two had shared for months prior. You had decided to at least get some of the things of yours you had left. Clothes, posters, etc. You stepped onto the front porch, fumbling with the spare key you had on your keychain. Unlocking the door and letting it swing open, your nose filled with the all too familiar smell of cigarettes, coffee and him. Your heart ached in your chest. Biting back tears, you let yourself step into the now disheveled trailer. You let out a shaky breath and carried yourself to your old bedroom. Opening the door with a shaky hand, you decided you didn’t want to be there any longer than was necessary. You quickly got to work rummaging around the room, grabbing articles of clothing, books, rolling up posters that had hung on the wall, shoving all of them into the bag you had brought. Suddenly, you were cut short as a small crashing sound rang through the empty and otherwise completely silent trailer. You flinched, and stood, slowly approaching the door. There was rustling in what sounded like the kitchen, a lot closer than you had previously thought. You dropped your bag onto the bed and slowly exited into the hallway, careful to not make any noise. Finally, you heard a voice. “Son of a bitch..” a pained voice filled your ears, a voice of which was completely unmistakeable to you. No. There’s absolutely no fucking way. You inhaled deeply and peered around the corner into the kitchen. He was there, on the floor, with his arms wrapped around his stomach, eyes screwed shut, clearly in pain. He looked mostly the same, as much as you could tell with the small amount of moonlight seeping through the window. His skin was paler, that much you could tell. Your body betrayed you as you took a step further.

“Eddie?” You choked out.

He immediately flinched and looked up at you. Whatever emotion was clouding his eyes was unreadable. He slowly stood, and you took a step back, unable to speak as your heart was in your throat by now. He stared you down, taking in your figure, and his eyes softened. “Sweetheart?” He whispered, sending a shiver down your spine. He took a step closer which made you take another one back. “H-how are you… here?” You whispered back. “You died… I saw you…”

“I know. I-I know.” He held his hands up to try and put you at ease. “Funny story.” He started, a small grin poked at his lips. “Uh… I did die. I think? But, uh… now I guess I’m… back?” He scratched the back of his neck and grinned, the light catching on his teeth, and you could’ve sworn you saw… fangs?

You swallowed thickly. “How? How did you… get back out?”

“I’m… not sure. I remember you, and Dustin, and everything going black… and then I remember I was back here, in the woods?-“ He ended his sentence with a small grunt as you launched yourself into his arms, despite your fears. You held him close but took very clear notice of how cold he was. He sheepishly wrapped his arms around you as tears painted your cheeks. He shifted seemingly uncomfortably on his feet. You pulled back and looked up at him, getting a clearer image of him now. His once dark brown eyes were almost red, his pupils blown wide. Your eyebrows furrowed as you pressed a hand against his cheek, a gesture he practically flinched at.

“Oh, baby, what happened to you?” Your voice broke, rubbing comforting circles on his skin. He pulled away from you, only raising your concern. “I’m just.. really fucking hungry.” This time, his voice broke. You cursed under your breath, of course. “Come back with me to my mom’s, I can make you something. Fuck, I’m sorry, baby, I didn’t even think about-“ Your ramble was cut short with a small scream erupting from your throat as suddenly your back made harsh contact with the wall, Eddie pinning you tightly against it. “Eds-“ you started as you tried wriggling underneath his grasp but to no avail. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.” He almost whimpered. “I’m so sorry.” He whispered as his head dipped down to your neck. You almost relaxed, until a sharp, burning pain spread over your neck. You choked out a gasp as he moaned against your neck, gripping you tighter as he lapped at your open wounds. Tears pricked your eyes. He started slowing down, becoming less desperately hungry. “Please don’t be scared of me.” He murmured in a plead. A sob wracked your chest. Eventually he pulled away, leaving you dizzy and sick to your stomach, but the feeling was almost euphoric in a way.

“What the fuck did you just..” you slurred as you brought a shaky hand up to your neck, feeling the wetness of your blood mixed with his saliva and the small pin marks his teeth had made against your flesh. “Please don’t be scared of me…” He repeated in a whisper, gently grabbing your arm. You flinched back against the wall. “What the fuck did you just do to me?” You snipped, feeling the wounds on your neck suddenly close up as if they were never there in the first place. You looked up at him in disbelief. “How is that even possible?”

“I don’t know but, fuck-“ He breathed, screwing his eyes shut and swallowing thickly. “Y-you taste fucking incredible.” You wrung out a dry laugh. Eddie suddenly closed the space between you two, breathing hotly against your face. “Do I scare you, sweetheart?” He asked, a glimmer of a smirk danced across his lips. You couldn’t deny you were terrified. But, this was him. This was Eddie, your Eddie. You could once again feel your heart beat in your throat, so violently it made your head hurt as it pulsed. You were never scared of Eddie before, but now? You had no idea what he was capable of. If he had been brainwashed by Vecna, possibly to do his bidding? There was no telling what he wanted from you.

“Yes.” You choked out as he placed his hands over your hips and squeezed, likely tighter than he meant to. A sickly smile washed over his face at your response, flashing his newfound fangs. “You want to know what I think?” His voice dropped low as he dipped down to whisper in your ear.

“I think you fucking like this. Don’t you?” A shiver ran down your spine. He traced his fingers lightly up your side, as you tried to ignore the heat pooling in your panties. You didn’t want to admit that he was right, because why the fuck would you be into this? He chuckled darkly. “God, and to think I was the freak?” He teased. You blushed aggressively and shuddered. You pressed your thighs together and he quickly wedged his knee between your legs, pulling them apart. “You’re really into that shit, huh?” He grinned down at you. You shrinked against the wall, unable to speak. “I wanna hear you fuckin’ say it.” He grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head, leaving you helpless to him. “Go ahead. Tell me how wet you got from me biting you, tasting you, fuck-… Tell me, pretty girl.” You whimpered in response and shook your head.

“No?” He teased. “So, if I were to-“ he trailed off as he slipped his hand past the waistband of your pants, sliding his finger over your clothed heat, dragging some of your slick with him. “Hm.” He stated, bringing his finger up to his mouth and licking you off of him. He chuckled darkly. “You really gonna act like I can’t tell how fucking turned on you are right now?” He asked, one of his hands wrapping tightly around your neck, gaining a gasp out of you.

“You always were freaky, babe, but this?…Oh… we’re gonna have so much fun with this…” He growled, connecting your lips for the first time in weeks. His tongue slid past yours and he nipped lightly at your bottom lip, the kiss quickly becoming a clash of tongue, teeth, and those fucking fangs. “Jesus, it’s like I can taste how fucking wet you are right now..” He shuddered. He wasted no time shoving you back into the bedroom and pushing you onto the bed. The bedside lamp giving you an even better view of his face now, and, though it felt wrong, you would be lying if he wasn’t incredibly hot like this. You scrambled to situate yourself in the middle of the bed, but not before Eddie crawled over top of you, harshly pinning your wrists to the bed. You writhed under him, “Eds, that hurts..” You panted, only to be met with a dark, breathy chuckle from him. He let go of your wrists and stripped your lower half, chucking your clothes to a random corner of the room as he drug his nails down your thighs roughly, leaving red marks in his wake. You continued to squirm, attempting to break away from his rough movements. “Oh, but I thought you liked it when I’m rough with you, angel?” He peered up at you through his bangs with a smirk on his face. You whimpered. “Eddie, I don’t think-“ you were cut off as his teeth buried into the flesh of your inner thigh, breaking skin once more. You yelped in surprise, and then whimpered in pain as he lapped at the dark crimson painting your leg. Tears fell down your cheeks as you continued to writhe and try to break away from his grasp, to which he only held you tighter, definitely leaving bruises all over your legs. “Please, stop-“ You sobbed out, the pain becoming too much for you. He unlatched from your thigh and began peppering your skin with kisses as you sobbed quietly.

He loomed above you and held your face in his hands and planted small, loving kisses on your cheeks. “I’m sorry darling,” He feigned sympathy, “did I hurt you?” He swiped his thumb over your bottom lip and you shivered against his cool touch. You sniffled and continued to squirm under him. “Eddie, please-“ You hiccuped. “It’s okay, baby.” He cooed, “I’m gonna take care of you, don’t worry, sweetheart.” He ran his hands down your sides, squeezing your curves tightly. You let out another sob. “No.” You whispered in a broken tone.

“Yes.” He purred. “You’re gonna take whatever I give you, aren’t you, sweet girl?” He spoke as he moved back down your body, settling on his knees at the end of the bed. You expected him to give you an asking glance, ask if you were okay, ask at all, like he used to. No matter how rough he would end up being with you, he would always ask. But this time? He took you as he pleased. He pressed his lips against your heat, pressing slow kisses onto your clit. He moaned softly as he took you into his mouth, swirling his tongue around your clit, sucking and releasing with a loud pop. You didn’t want to enjoy this. This version of him was fucking terrifying. Almost feral. But you couldn’t control yourself, you slowly found yourself grinding against his face. He moaned, and you could feel him smile against you.

You were surprised at how gentle he was being, almost savoring you. But of course, you spoke too soon. He pulled his mouth away with a deep sigh before roughly plunging two fingers inside of you, curling them harshly against your g-spot, which was met with a choked scream from you. You clawed at his wrist, trying to get him to slow down, or just stop all together. But he was relentless as he dove his head between your thighs again, eagerly and roughly lapping at your clit, almost painfully. He moaned and groaned against your heat, like he couldn’t get enough of tasting you. He pulled away briefly, not slowing his fingers in the slightest.

“The wetter you get, the sweeter you taste.” He panted as he looked up at you. Now, you could see what emotion hung over his eyes. It was a feral, almost animalistic lust, but unmistakably lust. You shivered as anxiety settled deep in your stomach, knowing damn well his moves now were unpredictable, and clearly he didn’t mind hurting you anymore. He must’ve sensed the fear and anxiety off of you because he smirked and chuckled. “Don’t be scared, baby.” He returned the fake sympathy in his voice, “if I wanted to kill you, I would’ve already done it by now.” You swallowed thickly at his words. He laughed brightly, which was oddly comforting. “Fuck, babe, I’m just kidding!” He squeezed your thigh. “You know I wouldn’t do that to you.” He assured you, though, the crazed look in his eyes said otherwise.

“You know what I think, Eds?” You panted slightly as he continued to pump his fingers in and out of you at a relentless pace. He cocked an eyebrow at you.

“I think you like this.” You started, “You’re getting off on scaring me, and hurting me.” Your voice slightly wavering, letting him see right through your fake confident streak. Under it all, you were scared.

All Eddie could do was chuckle.

“And you’re not?” He teased with a grin, letting himself refocus on pleasing you. He took his other hand and started playing with your clit until he found a pace that made you immediately squirm and whimper, an overstimulating pace. You choked out a moan and arched your back.

“That’s it…” Eddie whispered. “Taking it like a good girl…”

“Think you can cum for me like this, sweetheart?” He was only met with another whimper, which resulted in a harsh smack to your thigh, causing you to yelp. “Answer me, baby.” His voice grew dangerously low. Finally, you gave in, deciding to let yourself trust him. Because, at the end of the day, he was still Eddie, right?

“Yes, I-I think I can-“ you stammered and broke off with a whine as his fingers returned to your clit. Somehow, he only got rougher with you. Tears pricked your eyes as he picked up his pace, the room filling with nothing but your shared panting and lewd, wet noises. Your first came quickly, so quickly you almost didn’t realize you came until Eddie choked back a guttural moan and slowed his pace finally. “Good girl.” He moaned. “Always so fucking wet for me.” He purred as he stood, taking in the sight of you, merciless to him. You instinctively went to close your legs, to which he quickly tore them back apart.

“Now, now, don’t make me have to tie you down.” He smirked as his hands lingered on your thighs. He circled the bed, gazing at you hungrily from every angle, causing your stomach to flip. Sure, you had seen him be dominant with you plenty of times, but something about this felt primal. Like he needed the chase of it all. As he rounded back to stand in front of you again, he traced his fingertips against your flushed skin. “Pretty girl.” He stated, almost to himself. Without warning, he pulled both of your legs down off the edge of the bed, your hips meeting his. He fumbled with his belt.

“Hands.” He looked down at you expectantly and you realized what he was doing. Without a second thought, you pushed your arms towards him, keeping your wrists together. He smiled at you and looped his belt into makeshift leather cuffs, sliding them over your wrists and tightening them painfully, causing you to wince.

“Too tight?” He asked playfully and chuckled when you nodded your head. “Good.” His words sent a shiver down your spine. He pulled off his shirt, then his jeans. Scars littered his chest and torso, surely from the demobats. You found yourself tracing them softly with your fingers. He halted his movements as he looked down at you. Upon making eye contact, you sheepishly pulled your hands away with a quick “Sorry.”

“They don’t hurt anymore, not really, If that’s what you were wondering.” “I’m sorry..” your voice was small. He quirked a small smile at you and squeezed your hand reassuringly.

“Are you gonna let me have you? Or, are you gonna fight me?” He asked, running his hands up your sides. You licked your lips as you found yourself staring at the tent in his boxers. He chuckled dryly before pulling them off, his dick springing free from its constraints, resting against his stomach. He again leaned over you and grabbed your jaw tightly, forcing you to look at him. Your heart jumped a little as you stared into what used to be those big brown eyes you used to adore, now turned a deep, dark red. He pressed his lips to yours once more, passionately, but still gently, almost as a remnant of who he was when he was alive. Your bittersweet adoration was cut short as he suddenly plunged into you, giving you no chance to adjust to his size before bottoming out. You gasped and arched your back off the bed, tears stinging your eyes at the pain. His fingers tangled themselves in your hair and tugged, causing you to meet his eyes again.

“You can take it, I know you can. C’mon, pretty girl…” He whispered, hot breath fanning your face. He returned his hand to your clit and made gentle circles, writhing a moan out of your throat. Slowly, he began to pull back, only to thrust all the way back in. Torturously slow, but plenty hard, causing your legs to start shaking as your mind went hazy. Your back arched as you found yourself trying to move your hips to meet his, to create more friction. He chuckled and gripped your hips, standing up straight and halting your movements.

“You wanna be fucked that bad, baby?” He cooed. You responded in a whine. You could feel his dick throb inside of you, causing you to bite your lip harshly. He smirked a little and ran a hand through his hair with a sly chuckle. “If I start… I don’t think I’m gonna be able to stop.” You shivered and leaned up on your elbows.

“Then don’t.”

Eddie cocked an eyebrow and shrugged, and lifted up your right leg, bending your knee up to hit your chest and holding it there. His other free hand gripped your hip bruisingly. Without warning, he bottomed out into you again, but much faster this time, causing you to choke back a moan. He settled into a fast pace, the position making him abuse all of the spots that made your eyes roll and made you whimper. “Fuck-“ He hissed. “Always so fucking tight.” He somehow managed to tighten the grip on your hip, definitely leaving bruises this time. You cried out in broken moans and whimpers and strings of cusses, as it was all you could wrap your already fucked out brain around. Then, before you knew it, your second climax barreled through your body, and breathy and broken, “Fuck-“ tearing out of your throat. Eddie grunted and let out a shuddered moan. “Good girl, good fucking girl.” The second was met with another sharp slap to your thigh causing you to moan. He chuckled. “You like that shit, don’t you?” He repeated the slap, but to your cheek instead. Tears burned into your skin as they slid down your cheek. He slid his thumb over your bottom lip, collecting the small amount of drool pooling, he pushed his thumb onto your tongue, and you mindlessly started sucking on it, being met with a moan. “So fucking filthy. You would do whatever the fuck I want to when you’re like this, wouldn’t you?” You nodded furiously as you moaned around his finger. He chuckled.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #vampire eddie x reader

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