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purple-babygirl · 21 days

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welcome baaaack! i missed you so much

i've been here since forever and i remember a very long time ago that you promised us insecure chubby bucky. i never forget and i'm still waiting for him (when you get time for sure). i would love to read that whenever you right it! otherwise i'm really happy you're back again.

much love purple<3

Pairing: Insecure!Chubby!Chef!Bucky Barnes x f!reader

Word Count: 4,180

Summary: Bucky runs into his ex, who manages to mess with his head, bringing his insecurities to the surface again. His girl takes it upon herself to show him how perfect he is.

Warnings: 18+ content, bullying (sort of), fat shaming, negative self body image, insecurities, intrusive thoughts, mentions of cheating, a little crying, a little angst, smut, unprotected vaginal sex, cum, multiple orgasms

A/N: Nonnie, omg, you have been here a long time! I love and appreciate you so so much and I can't believe you stuck around for so long wow:"💜💜 Thank you so much for existing and for being here you're the reason I don't wanna leave again💜💜💜 Here's one insecure chubby bucky for you, I hope you like this one and that I did a good job💜 Thank you again ilyyy, please enjoyxx💜💜(y'all i think i forgot how to write smut what is wrong with me)

perfect to me

“I’m so sorry, baby, I have to run,” she told him after checking her phone, pecking his lips and taking quick steps down the aisle of the large store.

Bucky smiled, taking another fruit plate and placing it in their cart. His girl was such a hard worker and he couldn’t be prouder.

It was going to be Christmas soon and his girl was still working hard so Bucky was going to make her the best holiday food she’s ever tasted.

He was focused on picking the freshest cranberries when he heard a scoff, a very familiar one.

“Hey, Ryan,” Bucky sighed, not really wanting to ruin his good mood, as he turned around to meet a face he knew too well.

“What does she owe you?” said Ryan, tilting his head with a smirk.

“What?!”

“There’s no way this chick is seeing you. I figured she must owe you and is just paying her debt!” He smirked further, not even trying to hide his gloating when he saw that his words still had an effect on Bucky.

“My relationship with her is none of your business.” Bucky’s voice was suddenly low as his eyes stared down at the contents of the cart.

“But my relationship with you is.” Ryan put a finger under Bucky’s chin but the latter took a step away.

“We don’t have a relationship. You cheated on me, remember? I was too fat for you.” Bucky’s shaky voice moved nothing inside Ryan. If anything Ryan wanted more.

“And now you’re too fat for her.”

“Shut up. She is nothing like you.”

“Really? Do you even know where she goes when she leaves you? Where she is right now, for example?” Ryan smirked.

“She got called into work and had to run to the office.” Bucky knew he owed him nothing and if he was in his right mind he wouldn’t have went through a conversation with Ryan at all, but he wasn’t.

“How are you still so naïve?” He laughed heartily as if Bucky’s misery was actually amusing to him.

“Leave me alone.” Bucky tried to push the shopping cart and walk away, but Ryan stepped before him.

“I didn’t know your publisher lived in an office.”

“What are you talking about?”

“She leaves you to go fuck your publisher. You know him, black guy, sexily built, very handsome.”

The words left Bucky feeling lightheaded as the world seemed to twirl around him. Could history be repeating itself? No, not this time. His girl was not like that.

“I saw her coming to his building with him.”

“How’d you even-”

“I wait tables in the restaurant across the street from his apartment. I didn’t know she was with you but damn are you lucky you met me today!” Ryan laughed insensitively.

“It’s probably someone else.”

“I think I know what your publisher looks like.”

“You’re lying,” Bucky chocked out, trying to get out of Ryan’s way.

“You don’t sound so sure about that.” Ryan tilted his head again with a smug smirk, poking Bucky’s tummy, “you know why? Because deep down you know she’s too sexy for you. Because you look at her and then at yourself and you can’t figure out why she’d want you. Because you know that sooner or later she’s gonna get tired of your fat ass and—”

“My life now is none of your business, Ryan. You left. You chose to go, so stay gone.” Bucky’s weak voice interrupted, shutting Ryan right up before he sped out of the store, leaving the groceries behind.

“You’ll come back to me when you see for yourself!” He shouted after Bucky, but he didn’t stop nor turn back.

The questions he had raised in Bucky’s head, Bucky had no answers for them himself. Why was this sweet girl with him? What did she see in him? Anyone who met them thought the same thing: they didn’t belong together. So what did she see differently? What was Bucky bringing to their relationship? Could he even satisfy her? Could he keep her fulfilled?

He thought the days where Ryan messed with his head were long gone but he was obviously mistaken. Ryan could still easily hurt him. He could still make him feel as large as an elephant yet smaller than an insect. The dagger he’d planted was in so deep that Bucky couldn’t feel anything but the pain the stab brought.

His ex’s words plagued his mind. They took over and drowned out his girl’s voice, pushing it to the background.

All of a sudden, Bucky was very aware of his size, of the way the couch made the slightest sounds under his weight, and the way his girl could fit her whole self on one of his thighs if she wanted to.

“Bucky bear?” A hand on his cheek pulled him out of his thoughts.

Suddenly, he hated the words she nicknamed him with. Bear? Is that how big she thought he was?

“Hmm?”

“I was asking if you wanna go shopping for last minute gifts with me tomorrow,” she repeated, smiling sweetly, her fingers brushing a few hairs back and behind Bucky’s ear as she yawned.

Bucky’s new cookbook became a best seller after one week of release and the publication house was throwing the amazing chef a party.

She couldn’t be prouder and she wanted to support Bucky all the way. She loved Christmas and now it was going to be even better with this event added to their memories.

She was going to go all out for her man and he didn’t even know it. It was going to be a huge surprise and she couldn’t wait to make it happen.

“Yeah, why not,” Bucky replied, faking a smile back.

“What were you busy thinking about?” Her thumb traced his stubbly cheek as she frowned worriedly.

For a wonderfully successful cook, Bucky didn’t look so happy.

“You,” he answered with the truth though his eyes didn’t sparkle like they usually would at the thought of her.

“What about me?” Her smile returned as she stared lovingly at Bucky’s face.

“Why are you with me?” Bucky couldn’t hide the sorrow in his voice if he tried.

“What?” She sat up straight in his lap as her face fell.

“Please don’t make me repeat the question.”

“Buck, where’s this coming from?” Her hands cupped both his cheeks.

“I just don’t get it.” He shook his head, swallowing as his hands removed hers from his face.

“Don’t get what?!” She placed her hands on Bucky’s chest instead, refusing to let him push her away.

“Why you’re here!”

“I’m here because I love you, what’s hard to get, baby?”

“Do you really love me?”

This was serious. She’s never seen her boyfriend look so broken.

“James, what’s going on?”

“Answer the question, plum,” Bucky requested, the back of his fingers stroking over her cheek, knowing this was probably the last time he would get to touch her soft skin.

“Of course I love you!”

“Then why do you leave me to go meet Sam and then lie to me about it?!” Bucky unintentionally raised his voice.

“W—what?”

There were so many emotions overwhelming her and none of them was pleasant.

She was shocked, hurt and dejected. Bucky has never raised his voice at her before.

“What were you doing together last night? And the night before and the night before that?!”

“Bucky, you’ve got it all wrong.” She shook her head, heartbroken that Bucky would think of her like that.

“Please leave.” He slid her off his lap and stood up, turning his back to her.

“Bucky.” Tears pricked her eyes.

“Leave, plum.”

“Bucky, me and Sam were—”

“If you won’t leave then I will.” Bucky sped to the door, grabbing his jacket from where it was hanged.

The last thing he wanted was to cry in front of her too. He’s already shown his weakness once; never again.

“Bucky!”

He ignored her calls, ready to run out of the door and let his legs take him far away where he’d have to hear no lies and could no longer get hurt.

“James Bucky Barnes, don’t you dare walk out on me!” She blocked the door, preventing Bucky from exiting the apartment.

Her eyes glistened with yet to be shed tears as her heart pounded in her chest. The mere idea of losing Bucky for any reason terrified her more than anything else.

She loved the man with her heart and soul and would go to the ends of the Earth for his sake. Why couldn’t he see that?

“I didn’t wanna ruin the surprise but… your book is a best seller. Me and Sam were planning you a party to celebrate. We figured if we met at the restaurant it’d ruin the surprise so I saw him at his place after work.”

Bucky stared at her dumbly.

“You can call Sam if you don’t believe me.”

“Oh.” Bucky felt like someone’s just dumped a bucket of cold water over his head; felt like an absolute idiot, “oh, plum.”

“I’m sorry I kept it a secret, but I’m not sorry I wanted to do something nice for the man I love.” A tear rolled down her cheek and her lower lip trembled, “and I’m really sad with you for stalking me and doubting me like that. I didn’t expect that from you, Bucky… and I’m hurt.”

“Sweet plum-”

“You can leave now if you still want to.” She took quick steps to the bedroom, leaving Bucky at the door.

It wasn’t often that she and Bucky fought and it was never something that couldn’t be solved within an hour. He could never bear to see her upset, let alone let her go to bed mad at him.

“Plum,” Bucky softly knocked on her door, swallowing the lump stuck in his throat, “can I please come in?”

But this was big.

Bucky has doubted her love for him. He has insulted her loyalty and ruined everything because of his insecurities and the poisonous words of a man who never cared for him.

She opened the door for him in a heartbeat, her face soaked in tears.

“No, no, sweet plum.” Bucky took her in his arms, praying to the deities she wouldn’t repel from his touch.

“You pushed me out of your lap.” She sobbed, her chest heaving and her forehead pressed to his shoulder.

His accusations hurt but the fact that he pushed her away somehow hurt her more.

Bucky couldn’t help but let his tears fall as well.

How could he be so thoughtless? She was the one good thing in his life and he almost let her go. No amount of restaurants he could open could make him feel as happy as a smile from her would.

He could write a library and collect every prize ever known to humankind, and she would still be the best thing Bucky has ever won over.

“I’m stupid, baby. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” His hold tightened, engulfing her smaller frame in a desperate hug, “please don’t cry because of an idiot like me. I’m sorry, sweet plum. Forgive me, baby.”

“Why’d you do it?” Her sad eyes looked at him in question, full of confusion yet void of bitterness.

“I- sweet plum-” Bucky didn’t know how to answer her question because now that he looked back, he could see how stupid it all was.

Why did he follow her for 3 consecutive nights while she went to meet Sam instead of just trusting her? Why did he choose to believe and trust in Ryan’s words and not her love for him? Why was it easier for him to imagine her with someone like Sam but impossible to think of her with someone like himself?

“It’s because I’m a big idiot,” Bucky replied.

“Bucky.”

“Please forgive me, plum.” Bucky pecked her temple.

“Tell me what happened.” She demanded softly, wiping Bucky’s own tears away and kissing his chin.

“Nothing happened, sweet plum. I got inside my own head again. I’m sorry, baby.” Bucky lied with a sad smile, too ashamed to admit Ryan’s words almost had him ruining the best relationship he’s ever been in.

She nodded understandingly, her hand cupping Bucky’s face as she rested his forehead on hers.

Bucky would tell her when he was ready. She didn’t want to stay mad at him. She knew he had issues with self confidence and she wasn’t about to make him feel even worse. He would come to her when he was comfortable. Bucky would tell her on his own.

“Please stay.” She whispered, her teary eyes heavy with sleep, yet afraid to go to bed and have Bucky leave after.

“I’m not going anywhere, sweet plum.” Bucky kissed her forehead, taking her by the hand to their bed.

“You know you can talk to me, right?” Her soothing voice whispered, filling the dark room.

Bucky was laying wide awake, Ryan’s words playing in his ears over and over again. What he did to his girl and how he made her cry. All the messed up shit he did just hours ago gnawed at him and took the sleep away from his eyes.

“I ran into Ryan,” Bucky finally replied, unable to sleep while he’s hiding something from her, “he filled my head with thoughts about you leaving me for Sam, and I let him.” He admitted to the ceiling, hesitant to meet her eyes.

“I would never leave you,” she promised him without reluctance, cupping his face and making him look at her.

She wanted him to see all the love her eyes held for him with no shame.

“Please don’t. I will lose the weight, I will—”

“Wait, what? He told you I’d leave you because of your weight?” Both hands were back on Bucky’s cheeks, thumbs wiping under his eyes.

Bucky nodded.

“And you believed him?”

“It’s why he left me.” He shrugged.

“Bucky,” she sighed.

“I know I know. It’s what’s on the inside that counts—”

“Don’t talk as if you’re not physically breathtaking!”

“Baby—”

“No! You have no idea how handsome you are, do you?!”

“Plum, you don’t have to say such stuff.” Bucky shook his head sheepishly and regretted it when he saw sadness cover her delicate features.

She quickly shook it off, scratching her forehead before taking Bucky’s hand, helping him sit up in their bed.

“Sweet plum, what are you doing?” Bucky asked when she started moving the covers down his torso.

“Gonna love on my man. Would you let me, Bucky? Can I love on you?” she asked, her voice soft and sweet.

Bucky nodded, hypnotized by the adoration shining in her eyes and she started to undress him.

Her eyes never left his as she took piece by piece of clothing off, revealing his beautiful figure to her, her smile only faltering when she bit down at the sight of her man in all his naked glory.

Bucky’s body was lit up under the soft moonlight coming from the window, helping her appreciate every curve and inch.

This gorgeous human being was his and he was hers.

“You’re so fucking sexy you take my breath away,” she moaned, slipping out of her own sweater, “and I don’t just mean the way you make me cum so many times until I have to fight for oxygen.” She brushed her lips on his.

Bucky was speechless. He could only stare and try not to lose his own oxygen.

“Keep your eyes open for me, Buck.” She pecked his lips once and he opened his eyes at once, not even realizing he’d closed them in the first place.

She smiled at how fast he followed the instruction, leaning back on the headboard and licking his lips.

Bucky’s groan when her bra hit the ground made her giggle. She slipped out of her panties, leaving herself bare before Bucky’s eyes.

“Come here, plum,” Bucky’s arms reached for her but she shook her head.

“This is about you, Bucky Bear.”

She climbed on the bed between Bucky’s legs, her hands wandering along his shins, thumbs caressing up his inner thighs. She bowed forward, peppering kisses on Bucky’s soft flesh.

“I love your thighs,” her lips moved higher and higher, the tiny kisses and nibbles driving Bucky crazy as he tried not to touch himself, “love how thick they are. So strong. So perfect. I would ride them all day if you’d let me.”

Bucky whimpered when she accompanied the honest words with a bite, leaving her mark on his pale flesh.

“And that ass,” she moaned, her hands sliding underneath Bucky, pulling his legs up and cupping his ass cheeks.

Bucky’s shy gasp made her smirk. He was so precious she could eat him. Maybe she should some day…

She let Bucky’s legs settle back on the bed and kept kissing up and up, skipping his twitching cock on purpose and placing wet kisses on his tummy instead. Her eyes locked with his and Bucky bit his pink lip.

He looked so beautiful, blushing, disheveled and turned on like that. His pupils were dilated, his cheeks rosy and his breath uneven; she was falling in love with this chef all over again.

“I love your tummy so so much,” her tongue dipped in Bucky’s bellybutton and the flush spread from his cheeks and on to his neck and chest.

Another moan slipped from his lips as her warm tongue lapped at his skin. She was full on licking him now.

Her words were romantic but the way she was loving him was driving him insane.

“I love to feel it against me when we hug,” she kissed his right side, “I love when you let me rest my head on it and I get to hear you breathe and feel your heartbeat,” she kissed his belly, “I love how it warms my back when you spoon me. And I love feeling it pushing against my ass when you take me from behind.” She pressed a final kiss to his left side.

“My favourite has got to be your cock though.” She gave his leaking dick a single pump and his hips were already bucking off the bed, “I’m a sucker for this cock, baby. Literally.”

Bucky was too busy whining when her mouth wrapped around the crown of his cock to call her out on her bad joke.

His whole body was on fire with need for her. He needed her to do something, anything.

“Plum, please. Let me get you ready. I need you. I need to be inside you.”

Bucky didn’t want to cum in her mouth, not this time. He needed to be buried deep inside her and he wasn’t sure how long he would be able to last.

“I’m ready,” she said, situating herself on top of his cock, rubbing the tip on her wet folds, letting out filthy mewls at the feel of him against the lips of her pussy, “always ready for you, baby.”

Before Bucky could argue that he should at least make sure she was prepared to take him just in case, she was pushing the tip of him in, stretching herself out on his cock with her head thrown back and her mouth open in a silent scream.

“Fuck, plum, so tight,” Bucky groaned, feeling her pussy grip every inch as soon as it disappeared inside her.

When she has completely impaled herself on Bucky’s cock, she stilled, taking a minute to get used to the stretch.

No burn has ever felt as good as the burn she got when Bucky’s dick split her in half. Getting opened on this cock was her favorite thing in the world.

She dragged her lips along his stubbly jaw as she waited, kissing all over his face, savoring the moment as sweetly as possible as if the head of Bucky’s cock wasn’t almost touching up her cervix.

Her open palms glided from around Bucky’s neck to his shoulders and down his arms until she reached his palms.

“and those hands, I think you already know how much I love your hands.” She chuckled as she continued and Bucky nodded, squirming below her.

“I love when you hold my hand; makes me feel safe; chosen,” she rolled her hips, making Bucky groan wantonly.

“I love how fast you can make me cum on the fingers of your left hand.” She whined when Bucky’s hands dug in her sides as she moved on him, surely leaving bruises behind.

“Fuck, plum-” Bucky was so close so fast and he wished he could last longer but the movement of her body on top of his, the words leaving her mouth and her walls snug around his cock were too much.

“I love you. Every inch, every part. I love all of you, Bucky.”

Bucky groaned in reply, chest heaving as he watched her take him.

“I love every part of you. I crave your touch like my lungs crave air.”

Bucky involuntarily thrust up, making her eyes roll.

“Oh Buck!” she wailed, Bucky hitting her favorite spots so good.

He couldn’t stop his hips from meeting hers every time she came down to take his cock over and over again, eyes glued to where he was disappearing inside of her.

“Nothing could ever match the feeling of being filled up of you, Bucky.”

“I love you, plum ahhh fuck,” Bucky moaned, overwhelmed by emotions and ready to burst any second.

“I love you too, Bucky bear. You’re my everything; my one and only.” She kissed him hard, thighs shaking around his body as she came on his cock.

Bucky couldn’t help but let go himself, cumming harder than he has ever before, filling her up with so much cum until he felt it leak out of her despite having her plugged on his softening cock.

She moaned at the warmth of his cum, shuddering when it seeped out of her.

“Fuck, plum,” Bucky sighed on her shoulder, breath still shaky.

She giggled shyly, burying her face in Bucky’s neck.

“Where did that come from?” Bucky asked, cupping her cheek so he could look at her.

She was glowing, smiling at him so innocently as if his cock wasn’t still buried deep up her leaking, pulsing pussy.

“From here.” She pointed to the spot between her breasts.

“Right here?” Bucky leaned forward to press a kiss on her hot skin, making her laugh as she nodded.

“I love you,” he whispered on her lips.

“I love you, Bucky. I love every tiny detail about you inside out. Nothing will ever change that.” She promised, seeing his eyes soften once again, insecurity dissipating.

“Thank you, plum.” Bucky hugged her close, kissing her shoulder and the back of her neck.

“Thank you for letting me show you how much I love you.”

“So you love my cock huh?” Bucky teased.

“Buckyyyy,” she whined, trying to get away as her face heated up.

“No, say it.” Bucky bit his lip, looking at her with a smirk.

“You know I do. Stop.”

“No, plum. I don’t know anything.” Bucky shook his head trying to act serious, “say it again.”

“Iloveyourcock,” she mumbled, trying to take herself off his cock.

“What was that, plum?” Bucky thrust upward into her and even with a soft cock he could make her make the sweetest sound.

“Hngh, I love your cock, Bucky,” she moaned, throwing her head back.

“Hmm, how much?” Bucky swirled his hips, feeling himself get hard again.

“S-so much,” she admitted as his cock stretched her sensitive pussy.

Bucky held her close, turning them the other way around and gave a deep push when he was on top, his cum making the filthiest squelching sounds as she screamed an “oh god”.

“So much you’d let me take you again?”

“Yes, yes,” she nodded frantically, not wanting the man to stop his thrusts.

And he wasn’t going to.

Bucky’s tummy pinned her down as he pressed his lips to hers, eating up her squeals as he pounded her into the bed, showing her how much he loved her.

“So you really don’t care about my weight?” Bucky asked, supporting his body up on his elbows as he stared at her glossy eyes.

She could barely remember her name as she tried to come down from the other two orgasms Bucky has just given her, his body still on top of hers, but that wasn’t a question she needed to think about the answer to.

“I only want you okay and healthy, Bucky. If you’re comfortable, I’m comfortable. If you’re happy, I’m happy. Otherwise, you’re perfect to me,” she told him with a shrug, pushing his wet hair behind his ears, “every little thing about you is perfect.”

“I love you so much, plum.”

“I love you more.” She smiled, heart fluttering at the look he was giving her.

“Not possible.” Bucky kissed her lips, “not possible, plum.”

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cold-kitty · 18 days

Text

Todays poll winner was... Yandere Naga! I love Nagas, really anything with a tail. I know that there's different Nagas, but this Naga is Centaur style: human from the hips up and a snake tail from hips down.

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Little backstory: Nagas are a rare species in this world, which puts a high price on them. They're shoved into zoos or killed for their tails and scales, some celebrities even own a few. This Naga, however, is determined not to let that happen to him.

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Contains: Mentions of murder, non-human yandere, kidnapping, yandere doesn't know his own strength and harms darling

Yan!Naga who hates people, genuinely hates them. he hates them so much to the point that if someone so much as steps into his forest he kills them on the spot, he won't put himself in danger.

Yan!Naga who isn't a hateful person, he's just scared if we're being honest. people are scared of what they can't control or predict, and fear turns into hate.

Yan!Naga who always feels guilty after killing someone, especially regretting it if that person was innocent. he's definitely taught himself to differentiate threat from innocent though, so he doesn't kill as many people now.

Yan!Naga who keeps a close eye on you when you wander around his forest, trying to determine if you're a threat or not.

Yan!Naga who finds out you're not a threat, and continues on his way. he silently slips through the trees, his incredibly long tail holding onto branches for balance.

Yan!Naga who really, really doesn't like it when you lay down on his special rock, it was his after all. it was big and flat, big enough for him to coil his whole tail on (which means it's absolutely massive because his tail is like 25 feet long). it collected heat from the sun and warmed up anything that touched it, so he could understand the appeal.

Yan!Naga who definitely prepared to remove you from it. he reaches out to grab you, but abruptly stops when he sees your sleeping face. his hands starts shaking slightly and it balls into a fist.

Yan!Naga who definitely knows that he likes you, human or not, and he wants you to be his.

Yan!Naga who cozies up next to you on the rock, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and pulling you close. warm...

Yan!Naga who coils his tail around you, one of the greatest shows of affection for his people.

Yan!Naga who loves your warmth, even more than the warmth his rock provided.

Yan!Naga who gets scared when you start to stir awake. no no no no no no no! shit, he's gonna see me, he's gonna hate me!

Yan!Naga who watches your eyes widen and your mouth open in a scream. he immediately slams a hand over your mouth, his own eyes wide and his body shaking with yours.

Yan!Naga who feels you trying to squirm away, but he doesn't let you. he squeezes his tail tighter and tighter around your torso and legs to keep you in place, and he hears a gut-wrenching crunch.

Yan!Naga who immediately lets go of you as you let out a bloodcurdling scream into his hand, tears dotting in his eyes. oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck fuck fuck! i hurt him!

Yan!Naga who watches you roll onto your side, sobbing. he rolls you gently onto your back again, softly pressing his fingers into the side you're holding. he stops as you cry out, but he definitely felt something. a broken rib.

Yan!Naga who carefully picks you up, careful not to hurt you anymore. he starts carrying you to an abandoned cabin in the middle of the woods, where he stays at night.

Yan!Naga who slowly sets you down in his 'nest', a large pile of blankets and other soft cloths with a him-sized debt in the middle, AKA a huge crater.

Yan!Naga who wraps your side with a soft cloth from the pile, tying it tight enough to hurt but would help heal the fracture.

Yan!Naga who curls up against you again, holding you so loosely that it feels like he's not even there.

Yan!Naga who will provide for you, now until forever, hurt or not.

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I hope your easter was great!

~🐈‍⬛

#yandere x reader #yandere x male darling #yandere x you #yandere #male yandere #yandere naga

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evilminji · 4 months

Text

(O.O ) The PONDERING is back!

You know Walker?

One of the Zone's literal ACAB? We are shown in one episode, that real world items? Against The Rules(tm).

Now, that COULD just be HIM being An Asshole? But let's be real! Unlikely. Rules/Laws get made for a REASON, generally. Usually because someone ruined it for everyone by being an asshole. Taking things too far.

You start OUT with the obvious Rules. Like "Don't Tear the Zone Apart." And "No Genocide of Literally Everything Forever You Fighty Little Assholes" but over time? You have too add stuff. Like "George is Forbidden to use the fax machine and he knows why" and "Ice Lairs and Fire Lairs have to be X distance apart AND YOU KNOW WHY"

And? IS there a central Governing body, regulating the Zone Rules? Nope! Pariah's in nappy time! BUT the manic, Iron fisted, Obsessions of THE LAW across time and space are sure willing to step up and help keep order. It... KINDA works!

And they MOSTLY have the same-ish Rules!

Like NO FUCKIN LIVING WORLD STUFF. Because? To GET such contraband? You'd have to break containment of the Zone, go THROUGH a random ass natural portal, that may or may NOT be safe, may or may NOT ever RECONNECT to the Zone, to literally terrorize the unsuspecting living souls (assuming you can FIND any), on the other side, JUST to drag that shitty candy bar back home.

Leaking ectoplasm the whole time. Poisoning the air, land, and sea. Making NEW ghosts where there might not have been any. Effectively making you their deadbeat parent. Which is premeditated child abandonment. And you DEFINITELY didn't PAY for those objects. Thief.

So, NO. No Living World Shit.

BUT!

Like city states! The Area of influence each Law Man(tm) has? While wide and sprawling? Does NOT perfectly mesh together like puzzle pieces! There ARE dead zones. Lawless, "unclaimed" areas.

Which? Are not so unclaimed.

For just as The Law has it's Obsession? So too, has the Underworld. Shaddy casinos and auctions. Black markets run like street fairs. What some Ghost Weed? They can hook you up, man. Vinnie over there was a Runner during Prohibition. He knows where ALL the classy joints are.

He can hook you up with some REAL nice Living World collectibles.

From All Over.

And? I bet it's that LAST bit? That REALLY sparks Danny's interest. He saved the guy from the GIW, who may or may not have busted him trying to... uuuuh... LIBERATE, some fine scotch for the bar back Zone side. Who's to say, really? Regardless, Vinnie? Pays his debts, you here.

Beside... the feral little gremlin kinda scares him. Good quality to have, no question, but maybe cool it with the biting? You don't know where they BEEN. You'll get a disease.

Now... all you gotta do, see, is... *mutters* *map scribbling* *bad idea enabling*

Which? Constantine! League Members of your choosing! Like a field trip from hell! Some how in the SINGLE shadiest den of Obvious Criminals you ever did see. The sky is green and they aren't in their dimension anymore. Circle up! NOW. Young Justice shoved to the INSIDE of the circle, adult heros on the outside.

Constantine? Knows where they are and wishs he didn't. He... he's not sure he CAN get them back. Going to try obviously. But no one panic. Don't show fear. DON'T TOUCH ANYTHING. Start walking.

Danny? Loading up the speeder~ Christmas gifts for daaaays~~☆ Everyone is Salty but respectful, cause anti-ghost tech meant they couldn't steal it. They did TRY. But... fair play, kid. Nice ride.

Only? Right before he gets in to leave? Some vibrating blur shoots over? Talking fast and followed by an older blur? Oh hey, humans. Like... ALIVE humans. Sup?

@the-witchhunter @hdgnj @nerdpoe @hypewinter @mutable-manifestation

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dc x dp prompt #danny phantom #justice league's very bad no good just awful road trip #danny does some Crime Shopping #at the Crime store #he got alternate dimension boy band stuff for Jazz #his mom's getting this cool lazer sword #dcxdp #minji's ponderings

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mandosaur · 6 months

Text

This Little Slice of Life (Mike Schmidt x Reader)

Fandom: Five Nights at Freddy's Film

Pairing: Mike Schmidt x Reader

Word Count: 1,025

Estimated Reading Time: 3:43

Summary:

A tiny little drabble that takes place before the film's events.

When you imagined what your life was going to be like as an adult, you didn’t imagine this.

In your dreams, you saw yourself as a world famous pop star. You imagined yourself in sequin dresses that would cost a fortune standing before a stage of wild fans all screaming your name. You saw yourself on every magazine cover, touring every country, and attending the Met Gala. Paparazzi would flash your photos in your day dreams all while you rode in a limo spending thousands on any little thing that caught your fancy. You had always imagined a life of luxury and wealth for yourself as an adult.

You never imagined your current life.

You never imagined that you’d be in your mid twenties still living in the same street you grew up in. Never imagined that the fancy little college degree you got to appease your parents would bring you nothing but student loans that kept piling on. You didn’t think you’d be working some dead end job for minimum wage at a company with a shitty boss and worse hours just barely scraping by.

However, despite the huge deviation from what your childhood dreams believed would be a good future for you, you find you can’t be happier.

There’s something warm and familiar in the way your life works. Like a puzzle piece clicking together, everything just seems to work. Your life isn’t glamorous or extravagant the way your elementary school dreams all mapped out, but you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Hell, you wouldn’t trade Mike or Abby for the world either.

Mike and Abby were perhaps the greatest riches you had. Mike had been your childhood best friend. You’d met him in the first day of Pre-K. A little boy holding a metal, superhero lunch box while his mom and dad kissed him goodbye. You’d befriended him on the playground of that first day and formed a friendship that had lasted all your lives.

You’d known him forever. Been there for him when Garrett had been taken, when his parents had died, and when he’d become Abby’s guardian. You’d always been there at his side.

First as a friend, then as a lover.

When you both turned 16, you had started dating. A simple choice between you both. By then, you’d both loved each other and had been pining for years. It was only natural for the two of you to start dating. Both of your parents encouraged the shift and the two of you were very happy.

10 years later, and the two of you had been together for a long time. You’d moved into the little home he shared with Abby. You shared his bedroom and was there to take care of Abby when Max couldn’t. Abby too was a joy in your life.

She had been born when you two were older and you and Mike had become her guardians. Abby really only knew the two of you. She doted on Mike, treasured him deeply if her drawings with him center stage were anything to go by, but she adored you too. She talked to you more than other kids her age, liked you staying home with her when your work allowed it, and drew you in some of her drawings holding hands with her and Mike.

She was a little gift in the life you had just like Mike. You loved them both deeply to the point where nothing else mattered.

To you, it didn’t matter that both you and Mike didn’t have money. Between your student loans and both your minimum wage paychecks, you two weren’t raking in much. Neither of you could boast being wealthy, hell, sometimes you couldn’t even boast being comfortable either.

But that didn’t matter.

Every day that you woke up to that poster of Nebraska on the ceiling and Mike next to you, every day that you got home to Max and Abby in the kitchen table working on homework, and every day that you were able to kiss Mike when he got home from work from the mall covered in fast food stains and all, none of it mattered. Not the debt, not the hardships, and not the struggles.

This little slice of life you’d built with Mike and Abby were paradise. Even if Mike’s aunt threatened custody every once in a while, even if Mike sometimes came home flushed and upset with a new termination notice in hand from his current job, and even if Abby sometimes preferred to talk to her imaginary friends than join you and Mike for dinner. Despite it all, this little home the three of you shared was your personal heaven.

And when Mike came home one day and suggested the two of you marry after talking to Abby, your little paradise increased.

Your wedding wouldn’t be anything that would elicit chatter among your friends. At most, you two would just wear your nicest clothes in your closet and walk down to the court house with cheap rings from Amazon. At most, your honeymoon would be a day where Max took Abby to her house and you and Mike ordered some take out from that Italian place in the mall that was about as fancy as any other fast food place. At most, you’d probably have one weekend to celebrate being married before Mike went to work at the mall and you back to your shitty job.

But it didn’t matter.

You loved Mike and Abby enough to the point where all of that sounded like a luxury. It might not have been the fancy delusions child you had about your future, but it was home. Mike and Abby had always been your home and any moment spent with them was better than whatever money could buy.

So, smiling, you had accepted Mike’s proposal and enveloped him and Abby in a tight hug. Had laughed when you felt Mike’s grin against your cheek and heard Abby’s little giggle against your arms.

Your life might not have been much to someone else, but to you it was paradise. A treasure nothing could ever replace.

#mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt #mike schmidt fnaf #divider by Saradika #michael schmidt x reader

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bedoballoons · 5 months

Note

Is your requests still open i just got back on and stuff and i kinda forgot your username did you change it i feel like my memory is getting worser everyday🫠aside from that if you are still doing requests can i maybe request like a reader that has animals following them around because of the calming presence they have around them that they use to comfort the characters at times maybe with a dendro or cryo vision (tighnari, wanderer,lyney,xiao,nuevelle bro what is this mans name and maybe cyno for the last) oh and they are a healer

It did change! My older username was much longer and a randomly generated one so I decided to go with something more personal! Also so happy to see you again! Sorry this took forever to write, but I hope you enjoy!

─⊰⁠⊹ฺ🍂𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤⊰⁠⊹ฺ🍂

{༻~Calm like a soft breeze~༺}

CW: Super sweet and fluffy!

(Includes: Lyney, Tighnari, Xiao, Wanderer, and Neuvillette!)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

𑁍༄Lyney:

"Oh my" Lyney gasped as he caught sight of the fish in the ocean, the lot of them swirling at the bottom of your feet while you searched for shells against the setting sun...the crabs had even started to follow you. You just had that affect on everything, anything that could see your sweet smile...feel the calm collected words that left your lips...they'd be entranced. He himself often got himself watching you with lovestruck eyes, hoping to catch glimpses of just what made you a walking safe place.

"Mon amour, you're one of the most beautiful mysteries of this world, I hope you realize just how many times you leave me in awe..."

"L-lyney...I'm just collecting shel-"

"I know and yet you've even caught the attention of the sea itself...incredible. Absolutely incredible."

𑁍༄Tighnari:

Tighnaris tail swayed slightly as he watched you, he couldn't help but be amazed...more animals gathering around to watch along with him as you intertwined small sticks into a crown. Your soft presence drawing him and every other living thing closer so they could see the culprit behind their newfound peace of mind. He had no clue how you managed to turn even his most stressed days into easy evenings. You truly had to be magical, and not like using a vision type of magic. A magic entirely your own, a spell you cast on anyone who met you.

"You're pretty incredible. I thought today was going terribly and then you turned it around like it had never been bad to begin with...how do you do it?"

"I just go with the flow and comfort you all the ways I can, you're the incredible one and I want to help you feel that way."

"There's no doubt you do."

𑁍༄Xiao:

Xiao sighed, watching as more birds gathered around you...your being radiating a calming aura that even had him feeling like he could lull off into a sweet sleep. "How do you always manage to draw the attention of the birds? You're just humming and yet it feels like you slow the world down so all can feel at peace...even me with my Karmic debt. How?"

"I'm not sure, I just humm the melody in my heart and hope that the birds and you enjoy it. As for being calming...I guess I find it easier to comfort people when I'm like this. Does this help?"

"Yes...I appreciate it. I might actually rest for awhile...if that's alright."

"Of course it is. Rest as long as you can my dear, you deserve it."

𑁍༄Wanderer:

Wanderer set his hat beside you, laying his head on your lap so he could look up at you while more animals gathered around the both of you. Normally so much attention from the wildlife would leave him annoyed...but you calmed his angry soul so easily. Reading aloud to the creatures of the forest and him while the clouds slowly swayed in the sky...you just left everything feeling safe and cozy.

"I don't know how you do it...but thanks I guess, for making me feel better. Even if you didn't really do anything but read. It helps.."

"If reading to you is what helps then consider it my pleasure."

"...you, are what helps."

𑁍༄Neuvillette:

Neuvillette opened the window slightly, allowing the many birds that had been sitting on the sill of it to get a better look at the source of the most wonderful lullaby they'd ever heard. Your voice was like the calming waves of a ocean, the perfect sound washing over him and wrapping him in a comforting warmth he'd needed so badly after his long day at work. He could listen to you for hours and never find your voice dull.

"You're a work of art my dear."

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚~Have a nice day~*⁠.⁠✧

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mitigatedchaos · 8 months

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Kontextmaschine is Dead

(~1,000 words, 5m)

Noted blogger @kontextmaschine is presumed dead, following the discovery that the sole resident at his most likely residence was found deceased during a wellness check initiated by concerned Redditors.

Prior to his last post on Aug 22, which indicated a serious health problem, he reported taking over twice the dose of creatine he had been taking at the beginning of his lengthy post-COVID health saga, in which he also reported becoming bisexual, having "zero" anxiety, gaining 3D vision after years of not having it, becoming incredibly convincing, and having to learn to walk and use his muscles properly again. At the time, he felt he was becoming trimmer and physically stronger, and reported engaging in a long project of yard work, although photos from the inside of his house generally looked somewhat messy.

A Tumblr user who met him briefly in person after the beginning of the health saga but before these most recent events reported that he was friendly, charismatic, hospitable, and clean, but "physically, a mess," with motor control issues on one side of his body.

Topics of discussion were similar to the content of kontextmaschine's blog, such as differences in east and west coast government in America, said to be "totally on brand," but it was said that the prolific poster seemed "less self-grandiose" in person.

Redditors theorize that the decline of kontextmaschine's health following his first self-report of COVID-19 infection may have been due to undiagnosed brain cancer, which could be more consistent with observed changes in behavior than the after-effects of a viral infection, given that most reports of "long covid" are about effects like fatigue, and not total loss of anxiety or alteration of sexual orientation.

Despite multiple suggestions, from both anonymous and pseudonymous users, kontextmaschine refused to seek professional medical care for his condition.

Regarding the mourning of public figures, in 2018, a period of increased Progressive sensitivity during the Trump Administration, kontextmaschine wrote,

through the years realized that through whatever blind groping the ‘90s-ass “edgelords” were desperately trying to save us from this, through proper gatekeeping and filtering at first I’d thought it was gratuitous and supported it being relaxed, maybe not shaming everyone who publicly mourned a suicide, mea culpa, mea culpa, I have debts to pay

In 2019, he added:

That was how we kept the internet culture from growing mawkish and cry-bullyish: basically, if you were so weak as to get weepy over corpsemeat you got cancelled, the shame would follow you forever and you’d never be allowed to forget it.

Given his writing, it is likely that kontextmaschine would not have supported excessive public mourning over his death, though in 2017, following the theft of his motorcycle, when the popular blogger @argumate jokingly criticized him by writing, "no references to pinball, no insight into historical Americana, this isn’t the kontext I signed up for," kontextmaschine wrote,

“when bad shit happens people mock me accurately” is the community I’ve been looking for my whole life so

Like argumate, perhaps the most famous of the rationalist-adjacent bloggers on Tumblr, screenshots of kontextmaschine's Tumblr posts would end up on outside websites.

Kontextmaschine was generally considered an interesting, if controversial writer. One Tumblr user characterized him as a member of the "obnoxious Tumblr right," though another user asked, "wait, how is kontextmaschine is right wing?" After another user claimed that the nuclear bombing of Oregon would be a net improvement in the world due to kontextmaschine's residence in Portland, tumblr user @random-thought-depository wrote a 2,400 word theory post arguing that kontextmaschine's philosophy was a means to coordinate to join a future political coalition favoring the formation of a more brutal and oppressive hierarchy in pursuit of his own advantage.

Though kontextmaschine's ideology advocates that humanity should adopt "r-selection," meaning more offspring with less investment in each (or youth, sex, and death), this blog dissented against the coalition theory, arguing that motorcycles, kung fu, women, Hollywood, and not having to report to HR are all traditionally cool, and the causality of the kontextmaschine ideology could easily run the other way.

Though he had a period of identifying as female in his youth, appropriately LGBTQ for a Tumblr user, his 2011 statement of principles, including "the lesser yields to the greater" and "suffering is the mark of a wrong person," and general body of work, could be described as a strain of right-wing thought, though not of the traditionalist Christian or rational technocratic varieties.

Prior to the post-covid health saga, kontextmaschine's health posting was primarily about his bipolar disorder, with both manic and depressive phases.

Kontextmaschine maintained generally friendly relations with other bloggers in his sphere of discourse, sometimes debating but rarely aggressive, except in response to anonymous hatemail. In response to one particular piece of hatemail, kontextmaschine stated that as a writer, of course his primary form of influence would be his posts.

In a post chain reblogged by dozens of Tumblr users, multiple Tumblr users wrote that they enjoyed his writing and are disappointed by his death, describing him as a unique thinker that will not be easily replaced. Several felt that there was not much they could have done, as after returning from his covid infection, he was not taking medical advice.

One Tumblr user wrote, "rip. Inspirational manic poster," while long-time and prolific poster argumate described him as, "one of the bloggers of all time."

Internet users speculate that Kontextmaschine is survived by his outdoor cat, Badger, about whom he posted frequently. He may also be survived by other members of his family, with whom he apparently did not live, and rarely spoke about.

It is recommended that enthusiasts of kontextmaschine's blog make backups of his writing for archival purposes.

#tumblr tumblr tumblr #mitigated news #kontextmaschine #longpost #flagpost #obituary

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ystrike1 · 27 days

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Happily Ever...Dead?! - By Sato (7.5/10)

To be loved as yourself, warts and all. That's the ultimate fantasy for plenty of yandere fans. This particular demon has been waiting and waiting for the man he loves, in hell. Death didn't rip this couple apart. It has brought them together, forever.

Asmodeus and Mr. Sada could not be more different. Asmodeus is a powerful demon with all the time in the world. Mr. Sada is a young man in debt who dies after running away from some crooks. He died an inglorious death.

He dies hating himself more than anything. Not the thugs after him. No. He uses his last moments to berate himself and wish for a second life.

That fragile hope is all he has. He has no attachment to himself or even his memories. He wants to be...gone.

Imagine his surprise when he awakens in hell with an excited husband. Asmodeus has been waiting for Mr. Sado....to die. Yes, patently. Mr. Sado could have arrived old and grey, but that doesn’t matter.

Asmodeus is deeply in love.

Stereotypical yandere line 1.

In all seriousness Asmodeus isn't that stereotypical. He tries to get Mr. Sado excited. Pumped even. For love, affection and adventure. Mr. Sado doesn't need to be born again. He already has someone literally willing to love him for all time.

Complete with romance. Asmodeus absolutely wants to smother Mr. Sado with love and care...but Mr. Sado keeps resisting.

...can't have that.

There's a reincarnation school in hell. Where mediocre souls can learn to become great.

Mr. Sado wants to be born anew.

Asmodeus will stop him. With violence if he has to.

He will not let his greatest love end.

Never.

It's so raw and so simple.

You don't need to reincarnate, Mr. Sado. You don't need to be special or new or cool or rich. You're already loved.

Just accept it.

The ultimate sweet yandere message.

#yandere #male yandere #yandere male #yandere boy #recommendations #recs #rec #recommended #webtoon #Happily Ever...Dead?!#yaoi

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jeyneofpoole · 3 months

Text

in modern asoiaf wex is theon’s 12 year old algebra tutor (child genius and teenage dirtbag buddy comedy duo situation) who theon enlists to do the accounting for his business (selling vapes filled with water to kids in the park for 50 bucks each) until lysa finds out he sold robin an ‘e-cigarette’ and calls the police. wex lies to the cops for theon (who’s now temporarily blinded after lysa maced him) so theon is forever in this seventh grader’s debt but the only thing wex asks for is a date with asha because he knows it’ll piss theon off sooooo bad. asha thinks it’s the funniest thing in the world also she hates theon so she and qarl take wex out for ice cream while theon vents in his journal (robb said his therapist recommends it to blow off steam) until he gets bored and punches a hole through the wall next to a neat row of other punched holes covered by posters of half naked men covered by pictures of half naked women. their business is failing btw bran keeps stealing the pre-janked vapes from theon’s bag so he can give them to jojen (neither of them vape they just like to have them) and theon is convinced that the police are watching him and taking his vapes before he can sell them so that the government can force him to get a job because ramsay (lab partner in biology who always smells like pepperoni and b/o) told him about area 51 and now theon’s really scared of the fbi monitoring him and busting up his fake vape business and putting him away for life in one of those freaky facilities ramsay won’t shut up about where they torture you and probe you probably (he tries not to think about the probing because it makes his stomach feel weird). ok good night i loveyou

#asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #valyrianscrolls #theon greyjoy #wex pyke #ramsay bolton #asha greyjoy #qarl the maid #modern asoiaf

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feyascorner · 3 months

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7 | The Fangs Between Us

summary. “It’s too hard to see. We need to turn back.”

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a little bit of darkness.”

You scrunch your nose at this, and he merely grins. Before you can say anything, he’s back to pacing across the dirt without a care in the world—almost too fast for your liking. “Will you at least slow down?”

“Shall I hold your hand?”

“I’d rather cut it off.”

“A pity.”

warnings. angst, comfort, slow burn, tav reader is a bard, italics are flashbacks

pairing. Astarion x GN!Reader

parts. TFBU masterlist

a/n. 6.9k words !!! this chapter took forever but somehow i managed!! thank you so much for your kind words and patience !!! he's kind of a silly guy in the chapter so pls enjoy this peace offering as the calm before a storm

“Are you sure this is the right course of action? Letting him ascend?” Shadowheart asks as you adjust one of the logs in the campfire, watching the other companions organize their tents from afar. You stop at this, turning to face her.

“It’s what he wants,” you mumble. “I won’t stop him if he’s sure this is the right thing to do.”

You’re still getting used to her hair, which’s now as white as a sheet, but you think it looks lovely against the fire. She seems calmer than she did when she was with Shar. At peace, almost. She casts you a sidelong glance. “Can we really trust his judgment of all people? He’s—I mean, well, him.”

“I know it sounds unreasonable," you say letting yourself sit down beside her on her bedroll. “But I want him to make his own decisions. He’s spent too many years having no choice of his own, and I’d be the worst person to take it away from him again.”

“I just,” her voice softens. “Astarion’s a complicated person, and I’m sure you know better than us. It’s because he couldn’t make his own choices for so long that it makes me think he’s lost his capability to make any choices anymore. Good ones, at least.”

“I trust him.”

“Gods knows how.”

You stifle a laugh, and she sips at her wine, eyes still glazing over the camp. There’s a kind of solemnness to them that makes your stomach churn. “You seem worried.”

“Not worried, per se,” she shrugs. “I just realize that I owe a debt to you for what you did for me against my lad—I mean, Shar. And I myself almost went down that dark path of becoming a Justiciar if it weren’t for you. At the time, I thought it was the best thing for me too, like Astarion believes ascension to be what will set him free.”

You nod patiently, urging her to continue.

“I only fear he might make the wrong choice if he doesn’t have the right guidance as I did.”

The words feel hesitant on her tongue. And although they make the voice in the back of your head, telling you to convince Astarion otherwise, louder, you ignore it, opting to smile at her softly instead. “Is this you caring about our companions?”

“Heavens, no,” she snorts, but there’s a joking tone behind her voice. “But like I said…I’m indebted to you all. Astarion also aided in my personal affairs with Shar, even if he didn’t have to, and even with his incessant complaining…I suppose this is my way of paying him back.”

Your chest warms. It’s soothing to know that even without you, your other companions have enough care for your lover to offer him bits of advice; in a way, it relieves a bit of weight off your shoulders. Even the companions who claim to detest his presence have grown fond of him over the months, and you’re sure it goes both ways. It helps because even if you’re gone, you know he’ll be okay.

“I never told you formally,” she sighs. “But thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me or feel indebted. I just did what I could for you.”

“Don’t be so humble. What you’ve done for me—for all of us—is something we’ll cherish for the rest of our lives,” she takes her last swig from her wine. “But from one messed up person to another, please, be careful.”

Your wrist feels sore.

Two days. It’s been two days since the incident at the Blushing Mermaid, and still, your body seems to burn whenever you see his closed door across yours from the hall, and all you can do is rub shamefully at the healing puncture wounds on your wrist. The bandages looping around the skin do a good enough job of hiding them, but you genuinely wish you could just ask Shadowheart to heal them for you because being able to see them does little to help with the constant thoughts of the vampire muddling the clarity of your mind.

But you’d rather not let your companions know what happened between you and the vampire on the dirtied floors of the Blushing Mermaid. You’d likely die of shame for letting him drink from you, even after your mutual agreement to specifically avoid just that. What’s worse is that you expect the worst from Lae’zel, especially after her explicit advice to do the exact opposite of what you chose to do.

You tighten the bandages again.

“Did those yourself, did you?”Alfira snorts, and you almost have half a mind to glare at her if it weren’t for the crumpled sheets of paper surrounding the legs of her chair. The ink on the discarded pages now blends into mush as they lie in the puddles forming around her—an aftermath of the recent rainy weather. You don’t tell her, though. She seems frustrated enough as it is, and you fear she might snap a string of her lute if this prolongs any longer. “How’d you get hurt anyway?”

“It’s a bug bite.”

“A rather massive bug, apparently.”

The corners of your lips quirk downward, and she finally sets her lute aside, careful to avoid the puddles as she props it against the side of her stool to focus on her notepad instead. Though most of its pages have now been torn out, the remaining few have scribbles of song lyrics that even you can’t decipher with how messily the ink splatters across the page. She, however, seems perfectly fine reading its contents aside from her glaringly obvious distaste for the words themselves. You raise your brow. “Can you really read that?”

“Oh, hush. Don’t insult my penmanship.”

You snicker, eyes continuing to scan the sheets of paper that had been abandoned on Dalyria’s desk at the Blushing Mermaid. It’d taken quite some time to take apart the pages plastered on the wall and to organize the mountain of doctor’s notes lying across the lair, but you’d managed to fish out something useful eventually. The journal was one that seemed especially important, filled to the brim with Dalyria’s so-called ‘research.’

But if the past few days have told you anything, it’s that Dalyria is a terrible note-taker.

The pages are filled with shapes. Some are curved, and others just bend and contort into odd figures that you’re sure aren’t supposed to look like letters. Each page studies a different shape on a random part of the page, leaving them scattered and difficult to decipher.

You’re starting to think this is just some odd attempt at art rather than the studies she claims to be performing.

“And? Why are you here if you’re not here to look at those lyrics I gave you?”

“I’m trying to figure out what this journal says,” you sigh, flipping another page you don’t understand. “And if you couldn’t tell, I’m rather busy trying to find the people responsible for murders around the city, so excuse me if I haven’t had the time to glance at your song.”

“I’m plenty busy myself, you know! I just got hired to sing at this fancy party for some celebration. They even said I could dress all nice for it,” she smiles proudly, and you offer her a crooked one of your own. “It’s my first serious gig—so I’m a bit nervous with how large it is…”

“How’d you land something like that before you’ve even played at children’s birthday parties?”

“Well, I’m not doing it alone, obviously,” she reasons, scratching something on her pages again. “I’m going with one of my friends. She’s a wonderful violinist, and she managed to squeeze me into the event, which I’m so grateful for…I suppose I’m just a bit worried.”

You look up from Dalyria’s notebook. “Worried? What for?”

“That my fingers will lock up, and I’ll humiliate myself,” she admits sheepishly, tucking a portion of her hair behind her sharp ear. “Lihala used to call me silly for worrying about things that haven’t happened–but I can’t help it. It’s the before-show jitters. Pesky things. It’s a bit embarrassing, really.”

Humming in acknowledgment, you look to the murky skies overhead, where dark clouds threaten to pour down for at least another few days. A shame, you think. You’ve never seen the Summers of Baldur’s Gate feel so dreary.

It’s fitting, almost, considering the state that the city is in.

The painful sound of quill scratching against paper is all you can hear now as Alfira sighs irritably again, ripping out another sheet of paper.

“It’s not embarrassing,” you finally say.

She blinks up from her notepad. “What is?”

“Being nervous. I’ve done more performances than I can count, and my hands would still get clammy in front of a big crowd,” you laugh to yourself. “But when you see how they watch you as if you’re performing sorcery with your lute, it’s like you were never anxious in the first place. The audience is what makes it bearable.”

“Gods, I hope you’re right,” she smiles fondly as you continue to reminisce in your own memories. “It’s a rather shame we never got to perform together. Not after the last time we played at the Grove–and I don’t even count that occasion with how unstable my voice was…”

“I can watch if you’d like,” you offer. “Your performance, I mean.”

Her eyes gleam with excitement, and she reaches to clasp both your hands, beaming brightly. “Will you? I’m sure if you’re there, it’ll ease my nerves, too!-”

As you shift in your seat to follow your hands, Dalyria’s notebook slips off your lap. The simple splash beneath you tells you all you need to know as your eyes shoot down to where the notebook now lies face down into a puddle, and you don’t even have to lift it to know that its pages are soaked.

But you don’t have to pick it up yourself because Alfira’s carefully holding it in an instant, her face pale as she fans her hand in a fruitless attempt to prevent the damage already done. “Dammit, I’ve done it again! I’m truly sorry…I didn’t mean for that to happen! But I’m sure if we just put it in the sunlight for a few days, it’ll–”

You gently take it from her hands, shaking your head. Perhaps it’s because you were just deep into memories you hold dear to your heart, but there isn’t an ounce of panic in your voice. “It’s fine. I wasn’t getting anywhere with this thing anyway.”

“Still…”

The pages stick together in chunks as you flip the journal towards the pages that are at least half dry. You fear they might tear off at the slightest touch, so all you can do is stare at a page you deem to be soaking up the ink from the pages behind it. Alfira groans into her hands, and before you can spare her a glance to remind her it’s alright, you spot something in the middle of the page.

“Holy shit,” you whisper so quietly she doesn’t catch it.

“I’ll grab us a wind scroll. Or maybe that’s too strong? Surely there’s some spell that can dry off books.”

“You have no idea what you’ve just done for me, Alfira,” you blurt, already halfway to stuffing the journal into your pack. She blinks up at you with weary eyes, but you quickly clamber off the stool with no time to offer an explanation. “Let me know when the performance is. I’ll be here next week as usual.”

“Don’t you want me to dry off the pages?”

“No,” you shake your head, your heart pounding. “I need to show this to the others.”

She stares at you as if you’ve grown a second head. Still, as you rush toward the stairs leading to the city streets, she calls after you.

“Don’t forget to look at the lyrics!”

“Runes? As in the ones carved into Astarion’s back?”

“I thought they were random blots of ink, but,” you raise the notebook in your hands, and the soaked pages now show the contents of the following sheets, blending to form a larger image. The placement of the shapes were not random at all, and you internally apologize for calling Dalyria a few less-than-kind words in your mind. “They’re not. They’re parts of the runes that Cazador tried to use for the ritual. There are six sets of runes in here, and each one’s slightly altered.”

“But what purpose does that serve?” Shadowheart cocks a brow, eyeing the page questionably with crossed arms. “Cazador’s dead. There’s no ascension to be done.”

“Unfortunately, just because that haunting man is gone doesn’t mean the threat of an ascension is either.” Intrigued but clearly disturbed, Gale takes the notebook and squints at what it holds. “Cazador himself never needed to be the one to execute the ascension.”

The room goes silent, leaving an uncomfortable tension in the air that keeps you from moving. You’re not sure how many seconds pass before you hear the figure who’s been awfully quiet the past half an hour mutter something under his breath from the comfy armchair beside the fireplace.

Astarion clicks his tongue, seemingly unfazed. “Ah, I see.”

The fists at your side clench tighter. The bandages feel impossibly tight all of a sudden.

“It’s for the ascension, clearly. There’s no other plausible explanation,” his eyes remain glued to the flickering flames, swirling a chalice of wine in his hand. He doesn’t sip from it, knowing that it tastes of nothing but vinegar on his undead tongue, so why he’s poured himself a glass, you don’t understand. You also can’t be bothered to ask. “Perhaps they plan to enact it. Take a piece of all that power for themselves.”

“But they can’t do the ascension,” Shadowheart frowns, turning to you. “You said there’s only six runes in there. They don’t have the last one to enact the ascension because Astarion’s with us. Cazador’s the only one who could have done it because he’s the only one who knows what each of the runes looks like. Without Astarion’s, they can’t—”

“They wanted him,” you whisper the confession, and you swear your voice nearly cracks. “They wanted Astarion. That’s why they wanted to speak with me.”

All three of your companions whip their heads to you, and you stare down at the ground. Shame burns through you, and you can practically feel the disappointment radiating off them as it dawns on you that you lied to them. You lied to your closest companions for the sake of saving yourself the embarrassment that no matter what you do, no matter what you tell yourself, your subconscious forces you to care for the bloody vampire sitting beside the fireplace. Despite the many eyes on you, you can only feel one crimson pair that bore into you like the sun beating down on a hot summer’s day.

Even now, he’s your biggest concern, and you hate yourself for it.

“Then it’s not Astarion they need,” Gale says breathlessly. “They need the marks on his back.”

“And you didn’t tell us this, why?” Shadowheart hisses. “You said they just tried to kill you!”

You blurt. “They did! They said they’d stop killing citizens if I just tossed Astarion over to them, but when I said no, they completely flipped and–”

“You declined that deal?” Lae’zel snarls, and you unwillingly flinch at the venom in her tone. “You swore, istik. You swore you wouldn't be foolish if it came down to you or him.”

The words feel like a knife to your throat.

“Well, obviously, it worked out,” you grumble, ignoring how Lae’zel’s eyes are narrowed dangerously. No doubt, she has questions of her own that she’ll demand answers to later. “If I handed him over, they would’ve had the last key to conducting the ascension.”

“You still lied to us,” Shadowheart steps toward you, but Gale quickly clears his throat.

“I know how deceived we all feel, but must we fight? What matters is the spawns can’t conduct the ascension as of now, correct?” he attempts to calm her down, but her scowl only grows deeper. “As disappointed as we all are, we must admit that keeping Astarion here is the right decision.”

“You’re too hasty, wizard,” Lae’zel snaps. “A vampire’s ascension would mean ridding of all the other spawn wreaking havoc in the city. We mustn’t throw away a chance being offered without considering it.”

Shadowheart is immediately on her feet, her eyebrows furrowing. “Don’t be an idiot–a few thousand spawn is better than a nearly impenetrable being capable of creating even more spawn. That’s asking for just as bad as we are now–maybe even worse.”

They break into a simultaneous debate, one in which two room occupants do not take part. Because even as you try to focus on what the others are saying, all you can feel is the unsettling stare of the spawn in the corner of the room, his hand still swirling the wine. You wonder if his wrist ever gets tired. You refuse to give him the satisfaction of returning his stare, but you watch him from the corner of your eye as his attention shifts to your wrist.

“Are we even sure this is what they’re planning? Do a few drawings prove that they want to go through with this ritual, again, after what it nearly did to them?” Shadowheart’s attention darts to you. “This ritual would kill them. Why in the hells would all of them agree to do it if it only means one would come out alive?”

You open your mouth to respond, but nothing comes out in return. The hurt embedded into her expression is so glaringly apparent that it makes your chest squeeze uncomfortably, and all you can do is look away in shame. “...I don’t know.”

Her face hardens. “Do you? Or are you just lying to us again?”

Cheeks flaring, you shake your head. “I’m not lying, I swear it.”

Her eyes flicker with something you don’t recognize before they flit to your bandaged arm and then back to your eyes. She doesn’t miss how you try to move your arm behind you. A miscalculation on your part since your attempt at hiding it makes your secret that much more obvious. “Then what are those for? You’ve had them on since you returned from the Blushing Mermaid, and you refuse to let me heal you myself. Just what did you get injured from?”

The room is so silent you can hear your own heartbeat.

“I–” you stop, wavering. “There was a—”

Shadowheart clenches her jaw. “Don’t lie. Please.”

But still, no words are willing to leave your throat.

Your companions await words from you that do not exist. Like a deer in headlights, you stand numbly, unsure what to do. Fortunately, and also unfortunately, before long, Lae’zel has had enough of waiting, and she begins to march toward you in a way that makes you step away.

“Give me your arm,” she demands. “If you cannot say, then show us.”

You can feel all the blood draining from your face as she draws closer. But even Gale cannot hinder her this time because everyone in the room knows what she’s capable of with that blade attached to her hip, and she’s not against wasting a few potions of healing if she has to barrel her way through. You brace yourself for the inevitable, teeth gritting together.

Just as she reaches for your arm, someone else snatches it away.

“I drank from them,” Astarion says as you bump slightly into his chest, eyes wide at his pale fingers wrapped around your wrist. He yanks the edge of the bandage down with his free hand and lifts it for the others to see. The two puncture wounds, where the skin that surrounds it is darker than the rest, make you feel naked under the eyes of others. It’s too vulnerable. Too mortifying.

Your heart hammers pathetically, and whether it’s from the expressions of your companions or the hand wrapped around the sensitive skin of your wrist, you’re not sure. You hope it’s not the latter.

Gale’s jaw drops. “We agreed that this was the one thing you wouldn’t do.”

“If I hadn’t, I would’ve perished,” the vampire retorts in response, releasing his hold on your arm as it falls back to your side. The place where his hand had been tinges under your skin. “And there weren’t exactly a few boars lying around the damn city for me to feed on.”

You notice he fails to mention there had been more than enough bodies to satiate him, but you keep your mouth shut.

The hurt on Shadowheart’s face is no longer one that throbs your sympathy. Instead, she seems to burn with something you haven’t seen in ages.

Anger.

Her palm flickers with radiant light, and Astarion immediately flinches, hissing as he moves to hide his body behind yours. In your haste, you can’t think of anything to do besides stepping toward her, holding out your hands. Astarion releases a strained laugh from behind you. “Now, Shadowheart, let’s not do anything hilarious, shall we?”

“I’ll kill you,” she growls maliciously, the glow of her palm growing brighter. “Like I should have done the second you came back to ruin everything we’ve done without you.”

You cautiously approach her, focus never leaving her eyes despite the danger festering in her hands. “You shouldn’t, Shadowheart.”

She throws daggers in your direction with just her expression, and you can’t deny how helpless you feel. “Killing him would end all of this. If we buried him somewhere, they’d never find the runes. They’d never be able to follow through with the ascension, and we won’t have to deal with his pompous ass anymore.”

You hate that she’s right. You hate that even though she’s right, you can’t agree with her methods.

“I know he’s—not exactly a friend—but he was once. And I know you considered him one as well,” you insist, inching closer. The hesitance in her motions as you come too close to the radiant light is undeniable. “I don’t want you to bear the guilt of his death.”

Because as much as you’re wrapped up in a world of your own–a world where you fight to hate the man behind you–you know that your companions feel the same way. The sentiments gathered from months of sharing the same camp, months of saving one another from multiple deaths, and months of aiding one another overcome their own pasts don’t just disappear. You know what they shared. Being the most similar amongst your companions, forced under the influence of a power they did not want to be subjected to, you know they considered themselves friends, even if they never voiced it out loud.

You know that deep down, Shadowheart’s hatred for Astarion stems from her own feeling of betrayal when he tried to kill you. When he attempted to harm the only other person who guided her to a path outside of Shar.

“Trust me, I won’t feel guilty,” she finally forces out. “You’re a fool to trust him again.”

“I don’t trust him,” you reassure her, your hands finally reaching hers as they dim and eventually vanish all traces of magic. “But if he’s to die for nearly killing me, I want it to be under my hands. Don’t sully your own for my sake when you’ve just escaped all the bloodshed.”

Shadowheart’s brows soften, but her face turns cold. Thoughts seem to run through her mind like an endless train before she decides that thinking through each one is worth more than Astarion himself is worth. She inhales deeply and nods, allowing you to finally release her hands. She shoots the others one last glance before turning to retreat upstairs.

You’re left in a pitiful silence—one that nobody in the room dares to break.

An entire day is spent with you wallowing in your shame, refusing to get out of bed.

You hope this is just a terrible nightmare, but you know better. If this were a nightmare, you’d already be dead.

You only climb out of your covers when you have to change the bandages on your wrist. It’s a painful process now since you don’t even want to look at the puncture wounds anymore, but it’s better than risking it to get infected. A knock on your door makes you stand from your bed, kicking the bandage rolls under your bed. “It’s open.”

You expect Gale or even Lae’zel, but you’re met with piercing red eyes. You contemplate begging him to leave you alone because looking at him right now only conjures up the guilt that’s been eating away at you for hours now. Instead, you build that wall between the two of you again, your face hardening. “What do you want?”

He’s never come to you willingly before. Not unless you were positively drenched in blood, and he had no choice but to follow his instincts for what he hopes to be a meal other than stale boar blood. Much less approached you in your own room.

Astarion lifts the empty glass bottle in his hand. “A charming welcome, as usual, I see.”

“You just had a full supply yesterday,” you say, brows furrowing. “I checked it myself.”

“Clearly, now I don’t,” he shrugs, and when you shoot him an intense glare, he frowns. “You can’t possibly blame me. I haven’t exerted myself as I did at that dirty tavern since the last time I had that damn parasite swimming around my head. So, unless you decide to offer yourself to me, again…”

You think he’s genuinely lost his mind. “Right now? Seriously? After what just happened yesterday, you want to ask me for blood?”

“Just a suggestion, darling. Otherwise, we always have the other option, as boring as it is.”

Perhaps you should just toss him to Lae’zel and call it a day.

Groaning in exasperation, you march past him, slapping a cloak into his chest. “There’s 15 minutes to sunset.”

He laughs, but it only makes your face turn sour.

The forest isn’t far off from the main square of Rivington. And by the time you reach it, the sun has long gone down, and you watch as Astarion takes off the hood of his cloak, breathing deeply in the moon's bask. And as he glances back at you, you don’t bother trying to walk side by side, remaining on guard and surveying his every move from three steps behind. He comments on it even though you think he doesn’t care for what you do. “I don’t bite, you know.”

“You’re not funny.” He snorts at your deadpan and continues into the deeper parts of the forest.

The entire time, your eyes remained glued to the backs of his heels, palms growing increasingly clammy as you become surrounded by nothing but the soft ambiance of the woods. His steps are as silent as they’ve always been, and it feels like following a ghost into the darkest parts of the forest. It’s becoming hard to see more than a few feet in front of you, and if your training with Lae’zel has taught you anything, you know that you don’t want to be at a disadvantage—especially when the other party is a bloody vampire.

You halt in your tracks. He does, too, turning to shoot you a questioning look. “What is it?”

“It’s too hard to see. We need to turn back.”

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a little bit of darkness.”

“Shall I hold your hand?”

“I’d rather cut it off.”

“A pity.”

You curse his long legs as the forest becomes darker and darker, even as each time you think it can’t possibly get worse than this. You swear his steps become quicker, and a part of you wonders if this is where he attempts to run away and whether you should cast a sleep spell before he succeeds. But the most rational part of you reminds yourself that he’s had plenty of chances to escape. Hells, he could do it even now, considering how much more easily his eyes adjust to the darkness than you.

“Astarion, I swear to the Gods above, if you don’t stop walking so quickly…”

This time, you don’t get an answer.

Suspicions rising, you break into a jog and then into a gradual sprint. Every time you think you finally caught up to him, a branch whips into your face, and you barely manage to swat it away before it manages to cut your skin. You call his name a few times to no avail, and you genuinely begin to ponder if you should’ve brought your scroll for daylight.

Finally, you stumble through a tall berry bush into what you assume to be another branch.

And rather than more darkness, you’re met with a clearing. It’s only a few long strides in width and a couple more in length, but here, it doesn’t seem like nighttime at all. The moon peers down at you in all its glory, and you think this might’ve been Selune’s pocket of the forest if she were here. You blink wide when a speck of light—a firefly—flies barely past your face. And suddenly, you’re surrounded by light rising from the green grass beneath you in fragile wings.

The tightness in your chest dissipates, if only for a moment.

Only once you’ve taken in the vast difference of your surroundings just a few moments prior do you see Astarion pulling off the clasp of his cloak. He tosses it to you, and it lands on your face before you yank it away with a scowl. “You could have just handed it to me–”

“Stay here,” he says. “I’ll return when I’ve finished hunting.”

You gawk at him. “I’m not going to let you just leave.”

“I’ve proven myself plenty,” he scoffs. “If I remember correctly, you would’ve likely perished were I not there at that tavern a few days ago. And I must remind you that I do have quite the memory. If I planned on betraying you, I would’ve done it then—at a more fashionable time.”

You don’t have much of a rebuttal to that.

While you could bring up the dozens of other times he’s made questionable decisions pertaining to his loyalty, the soothing bath under the moon’s gaze seems to calm you down. So, instead of fighting the internal urge to continue your petty quips, you drop the cloak beneath you. He cocks a brow, surely expecting more of a protest, but you just swallow your pride, plopping down on the grass with a huff. “If you don’t return in 30 minutes, I’m coming to find you.”

“40 minutes,” he tries. “30 minutes isn’t nearly enough time for anything fun.”

You scowl. “20 minutes.”

Astarion smiles wickedly just enough for his fangs to peek beneath his top lip. “Very well. I’ll expect you no later than that.”

And like a predator fading into his natural environment, he vanishes into the darkness.

Time passes slowly when all you can do is pick at pieces of grass. As beautiful as the clearing is, it’s a bit too soothing—enough to make you doze off as you lean against the trunk of a tree. Though you attempt to keep your eyes open, reminding yourself you have a responsibility to uphold, you haven’t had this sense of relaxation in ages. Especially now, in your home with an atmosphere thicker than the butter you use on your bread. It’s almost like a spell as you feel your heavy eyelids droop helplessly.

You pray you don’t dream tonight. Not when you know all you’ll think of is the betrayal you inflicted on your companions.

A rustle of leaves snaps you back awake.

And when you look up, you see two blood-red eyes staring down at you from the branches of the tree opposite of yours.

They look exactly like the spawn in the alleyway, practically a month ago now. The same ones that haunt your nightmares and the same ones that morph into your ex-lover in the ones you despise the most. And while you can’t see their face, you don’t need much more than that to break into action.

Immediately, you’re snatching the cloak and sprinting back into the forest's darkness. You don’t care about the branches flinging themselves at you anymore because you can barely breathe even without worrying about them. Twigs and thin branches flail across your cheeks as you practically barrel through the woods, your legs feeling like they could give up if you were ever to stop running. With only the cloak in one hand and a dagger in the other, you don’t even attempt to fight whoever this person is upfront–you learned your lesson well the last time you tried. So, instead, your boots crunch against whatever plants are being crushed beneath you as you frantically run from the creature chasing you.

The worst part is you can still hear leaves rustling behind you.

Your lungs hurt. Your head hurts. Everything hurts, and yet you cannot stop. You hope the forest itself swallows you whole at this point, especially as you hear the movements getting closer and closer.

Tripping over a particularly large root, you fall through a bush, bracing for impact as you curse everyone you can think of for your luck. But rather than your shoulder crashing into a pile of dirt and twigs, you plant face-first into what feels like…cloth?

“Eager little thing, aren’t you? If you wanted to touch me, you could have just asked,” Astarion teases and you instantly tear yourself away, pushing your palms against his chest with wide eyes. And as much as you hate to admit it, a flood of relief hits you. And as much as it shouldn’t, meeting his gaze makes you able to breathe again.

Gods, what is wrong with you?

“There’s something chasing me,” you say hurriedly, pointing in the direction behind you. “I think it’s another spawn, I saw his eyes–”

His face stills when you practically jump at the bushes moving in ways the wind cannot will it to. Your arm flies to push him in front of you in case something were to leap out, and while you’re sure he’d complain dramatically about this gesture on any other occasion, he’s too busy worrying about what lies behind the bush. His hand shoots to what you assume to be that blasted comb he takes everywhere while you grip your knife, and you hear both your breaths hitch when something lunges out of the shrub.

It’s a small, puny squirrel.

Astarion doesn’t even try to stifle the laugh that escapes him as he throws his head back.

“I swear there was something following me!” you hiss, slapping his arm while the squirrel scurries away back to wherever it came from. He doesn’t stop, having little care about how your face flushes with embarrassment, and instead seems to revel in it. The bastard is enjoying this.

You wish you could throw the damn squirrel at his head.

“Oh, yes, I do believe there was,” he’s barely fazed while you continue glaring daggers at him. “I’m impressed you survived an encounter with such a terrifying foe, my dear.”

“It was definitely following me...” your voice trails off, and the bloodlust that had overwhelmed your lungs is fading away, leaving nothing but the sound of Astarion and his annoyingly loud laughter.

He stops when there’s a shrill scream from across the forest. One that wails in what is unmistakenly of excruciating pain.

The two of you slowly turn to one another, and a knowing gleam flashes behind his eyes.

“Darling, the smart decision here would be to leave–”

But you’re already rushing toward whoever this victim is, forcing him to groan loudly and trail after you, snatching up your cloak from the ground in the process. You feel him close behind as you practically fly through the forest, with little care of how exhausted you were just moments before as the screams of pain seem to fuel your determination to lend aid.

Astarion, although displeased, only grumbles as he continues to follow your lead. “Is it necessary to be heroic now of all times? In a dark forest where there’s sure to be animals twice our size?”

You ignore him.

A leaf slaps into your face as you finally reach what’s now been reduced to soft sobs. And you’re not sure what you were expecting, but it certainly wasn’t someone you knew.

“Berry?” you blink at the small girl, who you’re sure can barely even see you with how teary her eyes are. She watches you wearily before she gasps in recognition, and it’s then that you realize that her arm is bleeding.

“Tav!”

“You’re hurt,” you’re kneeling beside her in an instant, assessing her wounds as you reach to dig around your pockets in hopes of any medical supplies you might’ve left in there. “Did something attack you?”

“Yes,” she winces as you lift her arm to inspect it closer. “I’m not sure what it was, but it came out of nowhere, and they—-they tried to bite me.”

A lump forms in your throat. As twisted as it is, you're relieved you weren't actually imagining what you saw earlier. “Did you see if they had fangs? Did they look like a regular person?”

“I think so,” she replies in a hushed voice, wiping her tears. “I was so scared. I didn’t know what to do when it–”

A hand grabs her by the back of her cloak, yanking her in the air with her legs dangling helplessly as Astarion holds her just high enough to render attempts to kick at him useless. “I’d normally entertain tasteless tricks like this, but I’m in a less than forgiving mood, I’m afraid. You’ve cut into the time I have to fill my own stomach.”

You gasp, jumping to your feet. “Astarion, what the actual hells are you doing?”

“Trust me, you’ll thank me later, darling,” he sneers at the girl, hissing at him aimlessly. “Show them, you little imp.”

Having no idea what’s going on, you decide the best thing to do is de-escalate whatever misunderstanding he’s had about the poor girl tied to his hand. “You’ll hurt her. Just let her go and explain what’s going on.”

“Show them,” he pronounces each word harshly, glaring at Berry.

And finally, she tries to bite at his hand. This prompts her to unhinge her jaw just enough for you to see the glint of sharp teeth. Ones that do not certainly belong to an innocent orphan.

Were you always this unlucky, or was the past month just a living hell for you?

“See what I mean? You can offer your thanks to me later, darling,” Astarion smiles proudly, and if you knew him any less than you did, you’d think he’s psychotic for smiling like that in this situation. But then, again, maybe he is. “How you seem to attract so many of us is beyond me, but I believe we should refrain from keeping this one alive.”

Your jaw drops. As much as you feel appalled that the innocent girl you’ve been soothing over the death of her adoptive father for the past few weeks turned out to be one of the very creatures that nearly took your life (on multiple occasions), you can’t fathom the idea of just ridding of her. She’s still a kid—at least, to the naked eye. “Are you insane? No, we’re not killing her!”

“Gods, please don’t tell me you’ll try and make this brat see sense. She’s practically feral! Look at her!” he grits through his teeth, waving his free hand to the girl in question, who’s too busy trying to snap her teeth at him. “This thing doesn’t deserve your sympathy right now.”

Berry manages to catch the tip of his finger in her teeth, and Astarion lets out a string of curses as he drops her to the dirt. It doesn’t even take another second for her to lunge toward you, fangs bared and claws ready to sink into your flesh. You barely manage to swerve out of the way, her sharp nail grazing past your cheek.

“Berry, just listen to me! I don’t want to hurt you!” you practically yell, but she only stumbles on the ground a moment before rushing at you again. You reach for your dagger, fearing you may have to use it on a child until she’s snatched into the air again.

This time, Astarion hangs her by the cloak onto a tree branch, where she screams and grasps at the air, practically throwing a tantrum.

You gawk in utter disbelief; too many things are happening simultaneously.

And Astarion doesn’t help as he slips out the damn comb again, grinning from ear to ear. You notice that this time, he seems to have taken the time to sharpen the tips of the teeth, which nearly look akin to a row of needles.

He holds the comb in Berry’s direction. “Well? Shall I do the honors?”

As you watch him threaten a child who also happens to be a vampire, you ponder that maybe you should have just handed him over to Dalyria when you had the chance.

Tags:@ayselluna@littleenglishfangirl@bg3obsessedsideblog@iwillpissyourpants@cyberpr1m3@ukeia-uchiha@snowlotr@road-riot@spacekidnova@madislayyy@lordfishflakes@nicalysm@djarinsway@tinystarfishgalaxy@brainz00@hopeful-n-sad@ohdeerieme@madisban@chrismarium@chonkercatto@fanfic-share@bitterrenegade@sleepyred1703@miskouly@ravenswritingroom@iamlowkeycrying@deezus-roy@spiritraves@mariposakitten @dinobae-replyacc@whisperingwillowxox@bdudette@misscrissfemmefatale @atropapurpurea @cosywinterevenings @phoenixgurl030 @generalstephkenobi @shadowsmusical @himesuedi @girlygmer-blog @vulgarfuckinvirgo77 @deezus-roy @hyperfixationwhore @teardropcup @marina-and-the-memes @kiwi-mansanas @woosaaghh @cminr @everybodystaycalm @divineknightmare @bangtanbecks @carolinelec @bitterbeanren @aelieknox Please let me know if I didn't add you to the list or if you'd like to be added! I needed to redo the entire taglist because it wasn't functioning, so please let me know if I missed you :)

#astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion #bg3 x reader #bg3 #fluff #shadowheart #astarion x you #astarion x oc

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citruslullabies · 2 months

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That last DogDay x reader fic was too cute (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠) Would you pretty please do DD with a reader who jumps on CatNap's back to protect him only to be knocked over, and that's when DD finally finds the courage to fight his former best friend? I would appreciate some fluff afterwards 👉🏻👈🏻 Thank you!

Btw, your blog's aesthetic is so pretty :3c 🩷

Coming right up!! And awh, thank you! That's so sweet<333

Trigger warnings: blood, descriptions of violence

Requested by: anonymous 🩷

Romantic/platonic?: neutral (not specified)

Category: angst ending with fluff

Ship (romantic or platonic): Dogday x reader

Word count: 620

You Saved Me, So I’ll Save You

Finding a friend with so many foes was a rare thing for your situation, but you were lucky enough to have found Dogday. The canine, despite its lack of legs, was loyal and forever in your debt for your kindness. You were his angel, his savior. That's why he never wanted you to get hurt.

But catnap ambushed you two, leaving you to try and defend two smaller beings against one large one with a bigger advantage. He watched in horror as Catnap approached him with eyes so dark and cruel, knowing that his former best friend would be the one to take his life.. or so he had thought. He slowly opened his eyes when he heard a loud cat-like scream echo the abandoned building, looking up to see you on his back while he was trying to get you off like some bull-riding competition.

“Dogday! Quick, get his legs or ankles or just, something-!” You called out desperately, feeling the large cats spine dig into your stomach and chest as you dug your feet into its ribs to try and balance yourself to stay on. Dogday tried to run with his old re-stitched back on legs, but found himself in a predicament.. he couldn't hurt Catnap. He couldn't bring himself to do so, the idea alone made him feel nauseated.

But that feeling quickly disappeared when he saw you fall and hit your head roughly against the ground, causing you to lose consciousness. His eyes widened as he panicked. “ANGEL!” he yelled out as he quickly dove to get to you, lifting your still breathing body up to his as he caressed your head.

“Angel? Angel wake up!” He said, panicking. His eyes only left from your face when he heard the crooning of a feline behind him, as if it was cackling as it moved at your despair. His body acted before his brain did, growling and quickly charging at the monster In front of him. That thing wasn't Catnap, it was a monster. Catnap had died in the hour of joy, a monster being housed inside of his former friend's body instead.

You gained consciousness with blurry vision, feeling bandages being wrapped around your head in various ways as if Dogday didn't know how to properly bandage your wound. He got it to stop bleeding so heavily, but he wanted to cover it quickly. You spoke up hoarsely. “Dogday..?” You asked in a weak wheeze, causing his ears to practically shoot up in relief. He immediately hugged you close and tight. “Oh god.. Angel, I.. I was so worried I thought.. I thought I lost you for a moment!” He said through whimpers and whines.

His fur was matted with blood, specifically around his mouth and paws. But he didn't care about that right now as he snuggled his head against you and held you dearly. You blinked slowly as you remembered what had happened.. before mustering your strength to sit up and hold Dogday close, cradling his head against your chest. You sighed and rubbed his back, smiling warmly at him. “Hey.. hey.. it's okay. I'm okay, see? I'm right here.”

Despite your reassurances, the dog continued to pathetically whine and nuzzle against you as tears fell from his eyes. “I'm so glad you're alive, I don't know what would've happened if I lost you. I don't want to imagine a world without you in it, Angel.” He said softly through sniffles. You carefully scratched behind his ear and felt him relax in your warm touch, your weak eyes filled with relief and adoration as you comforted him with a warm smile.

“I don't want to imagine a world without you in it either, sunshine..”

Thank you for the request!

#smiling critters #dogday x y/n #dogday #dogday x reader #dogday poppy playtime #poppy playtime x reader #poppy playtime

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witchxxjpg · 2 months

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im happy that you liked my previous lestappen hunger games au🥳🥳🥳 and asked for a part of it. it is alive purely because of you, so enjoy!!

******

Charles got picked when he was just 12 years old. It was rare for a tribute to be that young but it happened sometimes.

Jules volunteered for him that year. He could've been 18 the following month but he stayed 17 forever. Charles would always remeber staying up all night to pray for him.

Charles would forever remeber seeing another tribute slashing his throat with a sword.

The whole 10th district mourned his death that day, raising a finger to the sky, pointing to the place where all people went. He was a caring and passionate guy. Even some other districts said their sorries. He was loved by everyone. And by Charles the most.

In just 5 years Arthur was picked. And Charles knew exactly what he needed to do.

The Capitol played his life as a tragic story of a boy who repayed his debt by volunteering himself for his little brother. He knew that Jules didn't want that, but he also knew that Arthur was too small and scared to be a tribute.

He won his games.

He portrayed the role of an innocent brother with angelic face and a pure goal. He wanted to believe the lies that the Capitol made him play. But everyone saw how Markus, a boy from district 4, died. With a dagger in his heart.

Charles was always good with daggers and knives. In his district he was terrible at caring for animals that his family was all looking after. But he was extremely good with skinning and preparing the meat to be sent to the Capitol. He used his skills well during his games.

He never had nightmares. But he saw traits of lost tributes in faces of all people.

Charles lived peacefully for 6 years.

He was more or less lucky with how the Capitol treated him afterwards. He was well aware of how pretty looking tributes ended up. But his role was to motivate all the districts to behave. They filmed a lot of videos with him that they called 'promotional'. To show what happened to people who disobeyed and to people who behaved themselves.

Charles was sick of doing all these lies, but it was better then being a toy for some moneybags.

After 6 years the 75th Hunger Games were announced. The Third Quarter Quell.

There were only three male winners from District 10. Sebastian and Kimi. And Charles.

Charles was picked again. He said his goodbyes to his family.

He was aware that these games would be different and he knew that he won't walk out of them alive. He at least was happy that Sebastian agreed to be his mentor this time too.

******

Max was born to win. That's what his father always said. He was trained all his early childhood to become a winner of the games.

That's why as soon as he turned legal age he volunteered.

His father pressured him into the games and never helped. Max was lucky to have Daniel as his mentor.

He won his first games of course. The youngest winner ever and with a record of most tributes eliminated.

He'd thought that he'd never have nightmares. But now he knew.

Max was just 13 when he won, but as soon as he started to understand the world he knew that he was doomed.

Doomed ro relive memories of his father's puppet.

Max dreamed of his snowy arena. Of all 12 kids that he killed with his axe. Of their distorted faces and hoarse screams. He never wanted to fall asleep again.

After the games he continued to study in the academy to be a peacekeeper. He wanted ro do at least something good. He finished with the highest grades and best results. He was offered a position as a Head Peacekeeper. He chose District 10.

He saw people from District 10 selebrate its win when that boy returned home. He saw them raising a finger to the sky. 'The chosen one'. That's how they called him. Charles.

Max saw him sometimes. When he went to the central fair or left to the Victor's Village. He saw how people treated him. Like a son or a close friend. And he treated them the same.

He was their victor.

All winners had perks and Max saw how he gave them all away to people of his district.

Max had to suppress his inner urge to reach out for him. To ask if he felt the same way.

Like a broken tool that no longer had a purpose to serve

Probably he didn't. He helped his people. And Max was a peacekeeper, wearing a mask to hide his face that's outlined by all the deaths that he'd caused.

He tried to reduce people's suffering.

He was a peacekeeper for 8 years.

When the time of the 75th Hunger Games came closer, Max knew about the Third Quater Quell and how it would be like.

There were a lot of winners to compete for District 2, but during the reaping Daniel was chosen. Max didn't doubt that Daniel would've won the quill, but Max saw the trace that the games had left on him. He saw how the games had treated him. He knew Daniel's story.

Max volunteered again.

Long time ago he cared about himself. But he didn't anymore.

He saw that boy from District 10 being chosen too.

******

Daniel was born in District 2, but his parents weren't.

He never felt like he fit with all the others.

Since young age he had to attend the academy to train there like every child of the second district muct do. He always hated it.

He read once in some old book from the library a phrase that made him understand what he felt. 'Like a bird in a cage'. His 6 year old self was very impressed.

Daniel liked all his survival classes, the ones that didn't include murders. All of his classmates hated them.

He was never like the others. When he first got to his class he tried to make friends. That's what his parents advised him to do. He tried to smile and tell stupid jokes, to share home-made food with the others and help them study. He tried to be himself.

But it never quite worked.

Everyone laughed at him and not with him. They pointed at him, calling him 'a dumb weirdo'. They took his food away and threw it in a garbage bin. They locked him in storage rooms to skip classes that caused him a lot of warnings and later detentions.

Daniel tried not to notice them but he couldn't. He spent most of his life in the academy with bruises on all his body parts and tears on his cheeks. He knew that he was not like the others but he didn't think that he was so difficult that people can't be in the same room as him.

Until he turned 17.

All students from the academy had a queue for games. Everyone fought to have a chance to win the games. And when the reaping started someone from the list of volunteers would go.

Daniel was picked for the 64th Hunger Games. He thought that someone from the careers would volunteer as they always did. But everybody kept silent.

It felt like a death sentence.

His mentor was Mark. He was fun and helpful. He advised to make friends.

On the first meeting with tributes Daniel decided that he liked only Jev from District 8 and Jules from District 10. They were both nice and didn't laugh at his attempts to be nice too. It was the first time that he thought he could have a friend.

It didn't last long.

Jev was one of the first to get eliminated. Daniel and Jules tried to stay together. But one day into the games they had to part ways to get food and water.

The next time Daniel saw him was with a sword slashing his throat.

He tried to heal the wound but his knowledge wasn't enough.

Before Jules passed away he gave Daniel his lucky charm - a small wooden statuette of a bird. Daniel wouldn later return it to his godson.

Daniel won the games. He knew that nobody from his district expected that.

The following year he decided to become a mentor. For 13 year old Max.

Max was always angry with his bright icy eyes shining with rage. But he also wasn't like others.

He was one of the careers, but Daniel didn't see their traits in him. Max didn't want to win for glory and pride.

He just wanted to make his dad happy with him.

Daniel tried to teach him how to live in this world. He tried to make him realise that he didn't need to kill all 23 of tributes for his dad to be happy with his son. He tried to make him feel better. He tried to joke and make him laugh as all early teenagers his age should do.

And he felt pretty cool when he succeeded in that, hearing his small laugh with a shy smile.

He knew that the boy liked him but he didn't know what to do.

And then Max won his games.

He stood there on the podium with a prideful expression on his face, but all Daniel saw were his empty eyes filled with something.

And Daniel was well aware what was that something. He saw it in himself every time he looked in the mirror.

Daniel tried to reach out when Max told him that he's going to be a peacekeeper. They even met sometimes when he was still studying in the academy.

After Max graduated he was sent to District 10 to serve there. And Daniel tried to still talk to him. Even when Max was very busy with his duties they called each other. And Daniel was always happy to hear his voice.

Daniel made friends among other winners. He had Lewis and Sebastian. But there was still something about Max that made Daniel care.

The next time they saw each other was right before the reaping for the Quarter Quell. All of the victors from District 2 were in the same hall, and there were a lot of them.

Daniel barely recognized Max with all the years that they spent apart. He looked broad and tall, even taller then Daniel. Nothing like a 13 year old boy that had won the games. His face was completely different, a strong jaw and no chubby cheeks.

But his eyes. They were still empty.

They shared an awkward hug and Daniel felt too good in his arms. He wished they could stay together for longer.

And he felt fine until his name was called.

He was picked.

Almost third of all the winners were from District 2, so Daniel thought that he wouldn't be in the games again.

He didn't have the time to think because Max volunteered.

When he looked at Daniel his face didn't hold a trace of uncertainty. He looked calm and sure. And his beautiful eyes flickered with something. But it wasn't the same something as after his games. It was something different.

And in a week he found himself in the same situation like 10 years ago.

Helping Max win.

******

Sebastian though he was a good mentor.

He took this role after his win at the 61st Hunger Games. He was the second male victor from District 2.

Kimi was a good mentor too. He was always calm and confident. Sometimes he felt distant but Seb never had a feeling that he didn't care about his tributes.

Sebastial saw a lot of good children that competed in the games. He saw all of them die.

He was a mentor for 8 years until he met Charles.

Everyone in District 10 knew Charles. His family had one of the biggest farms and Charles was extremely skilled with daggers. And everyone knew his story.

Sebastian still remembered mentoring Jules.

For Charles he decided to go for a sad story. That's how they can get more sponsors.

Charles was a pretty good actor and quickly understood what worked the best to get a reaction from the audience. He played well with his adoring face and big eyes.

Even before the games started they had enough donations for Seb to sent him daggers as a sponsor dift, so he didn't need to fight for the weapons.

And Charles won.

It wasn't something that Sebastian was surprised about. But he didn't think that he'd ever experience some kind of happiness. And here it was.

They both lived in Victor's Village. It was almost empty except for 5 houses that were also occupied by Kimi, Silvia and Lily. Both women preferred to live in the Capitol, so usually there were only three of them.

They even met every day for dinners together. It could get lonely sometimes.

Kimi had a family. A beautiful wife and two amazing kids. Seb loved them.

He didn't understand how Kimi could live knowing that his children might go through the same thing in the future. Seb knew that he didn't want kids because he wouldn't be able to live if one of them was picked for the games.

Sebastian waited for the Third Quarter Quell.

When it was announced Charles said that he would go for them if he or Kimi were chosen.

It wasn't necessary. Charles' name was called.

Sebastian knew that it was his duty to protect him.

They decided on the same strategy. Play nice and innocent for the sponsors.

When asked about alliance, Charles said that he wanted Carlos and Max. Seb would've advised on Lewis. But knowing that Nico from District 1 was participating, he would be too occupied fighting his biggest enemy.

Sebastian thought that Carlos was a good option. He was strong and not that arrogant. His help would be great.

But Max was different.

Even though Seb trusted Daniel who said that he was good, he still wasn't so sure.

Max was always quite complicated. He was too aggressive and forward, and despite everything that Daniel told him Seb didn't like him.

The games started in no time.

Charles knew their strategy well. He teamed with Carlos as soon as everything started.

They ran together.

They did pretty good during the first couple of days. Even succeeded in stealing an axe for Carlos and a knife for Charles.

This time the arena was a forest and it got pretty cold fast. They had to help each other.

They found a beautiful lake and a well-hidden cave nearby. There was also a small field with a lot of growing poppies that made it look as it was cowered in drops of blood.

On the first day near the lake Carlos made a small bouquet of them and gave it to Charles.

Sebastian thought that they were a good team. Trusting each other. He saw that something was growing between them.

Until one day Carlos got a spiked arrow in his right shoulder.

Everyone understood that he wouldn't be able to walk out alive.

Sebastian saw Charles trying to help him with all his herbalism skills, Seb himself sent them some good ointment to heal the wound. But it still wasn't helping.

He saw Carlos screaming in agony and Charles crying over his feverish body. Carlos begging Charles to kill him and end his suffering.

They all saw Charles putting his knife on Carlos' throat, choking on tears.

Charles buried him near the shore of the lake, filling his grave with bright red poppies.

The next day Charles decided to go search for the others. He packed all his things and took Carlos' axe. He was shit at working with it but it was his only great weapon as his knife had become dull. And he still remembered some of the tips that Max had shared with him during their training out of the blue.

He walked the whole day and thought that he wouldn't see anyone. But just as the sun set he saw a flicker of light in the distance. As he quickly and quietly approached the bonfire, holding the axe at ready, he noticed him. It was Max.

And Max noticed him too.

"I don't want to kill you", Charles said.

And Max answered, "I don't want to kill you either".

They were awkward at first but Max reached to his backpack and pulled three daggers. "They might suit you better then me. I have no idea what to do with them".

Charles took the gift and decided to give Carlos' axe away in return.

They didn't sleep at night, not really trusting each other yet, and talked. And appeared that they had a lot in common.

Sebastian saw all of this.

He just hoped that it wouldn't end up terrible. And that he wouldn't need to mourn another friend.

#lestappen #charles leclerc #sebastian vettel #max verstappen #cl16 #daniel ricciardo #mv33 #mv1 #my art #carlos sainz #f1 fandom #f1 art #formula 1 #digital art

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soft-and-bitter · 1 year

Text

We Can Last Forever

Mafia!Bucky x Ex!Reader

You turn to an old flame in a moment of desperation. Bucky takes full advantage of the situation to bargain for something he's wanted as soon as he set eyes on you.

Word Count: 1853

Warning(s): swearing, descriptions drug use and sexual situations

If you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging or leaving some feedback, thanks! ❤

M A S T E R L I S T

"Look who we have here," he murmured, smirking. There wasn't a trace of worry in his tone, nor on his handsome face. And for reasons you couldn't quite grasp, these facts only served to elevate your own stress, the urgency of the situation now clearer than ever.

Bucky was your last resort.

"Hi," you greeted. Despite the sheer brevity involved, even you could hear how unsure you sounded, but it was just as well; you were winging this after all, what with all your options up in flames. On the other hand, you also couldn't fuck this up either, because what else would you come up with if this didn't work out?

With a deep breath, you tried again. "Hi, Bucky. I'm sorry this is so last minute."

He tilted his head, the black turtleneck he wore accentuating the steep line of his jaw. "It wouldn't have been if you'd called ahead of time. Oh, wait," he said, lip curling, "you got rid of my number from your phone. How could I have ever forgotten?"

You looked away, both hands gripping your phone behind your purse. Rather than place it next to you on the plush sofa, you'd opted to set it on your lap. Maybe you saw it as a barrier, however meagre, just something other than the distance that separated you from Bucky. For protection? But it was you who had sought him out, not the other way around.

There was no stilling your frantic thoughts, all those contradictions and uncertainties colliding against each other to form some ugly kaleidoscope of confusion in your head. Several stories below, the club was at the height of its frenzy, the bass throbbing faintly against the walls of Bucky's office, a cursed soundtrack to score the situation you were in, with no promise it was ending anytime soon.

"I . . . it felt like the right thing to do at the time," you tried explaining, still clutching your phone tightly. "I wasn`t ready to deal with the truth."

He chuckled softly. "Yet here you are," he said, each word sliding past his lips in a slow drawl. "I guess there's no keeping me out of your life after all, despite that text of yours."

You turned your head to look back up at him again. Bucky was leaning against his expansive chrome and glass desk, long fingers curled around the edges. His jet-black suit was tailored within an inch of its life; one of his cufflinks winking at you playfully, as if amused by your discomfort and panic.

"You're right, I guess I can't."

He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "Well, it is what it is. Now tell me why you're here."

Here was your moment, your golden opportunity. You didn't shy away from the details. Why would you when everything you described was all part of his sordid world, the drugs and the money owed, the nefarious parties involved? And so you laid it all out before him like a spread made up of your family's suffering: stressed and overworked, David had gone back to an old habit his dirt bag of an uncle had first introduced him to more than a decade ago. One hit after another, then another, and now your brother—the smarter of the two, in your opinion, and certainly the more successful—was now in so much debt he'd brought up the possibility of selling your mom's home for cash.

Bucky didn't react when you told him how much you needed to borrow. That soothed your nerves somewhat; if he wasn't fazed by the amount, then maybe he'd be more willing to part with his money.

You hoped.

"We'll have the money back in your hands before you even get a chance to miss it," you assured with a smile you hoped was blinding enough for Bucky. "David just has to get through this hump, but once he does, everything will be fine."

Just for a moment you wondered whose worries you were really trying to assuage—Bucky's or yours? Because paying off David's dealer was one thing, but your brother had also promised to check into rehab asap. Yet even with his high-paying FAANG job in Silicon Valley, he had already blown through his savings, together with any credit he'd been approved for. To top it all off, the massive bonus he kept harping on about wouldn't get paid out until the end of the year. You yourself had funnelled whatever money you could spare to help his cause. Where the hell would the money come from until then?

Bucky sighed audibly, pulling you out of your thoughts. "You haven't exactly explained why I should help you in the first place," he said.

He wasn't wrong, you realized. And really, it was what you`d hoped to avoid all along. "Listen, I know you probably won't believe me when I say this, but . . . I guess I thought we had something special going on between us. Special enough that I felt I could turn to you."

"You're right, I don't believe you," he confirmed, shaking his head. "Try harder, won't you?"

You stared up at him, a furrow between your brows. "It's the truth, Bucky. I was scared, okay? And let's face it: you knew I'd be, didn't you? Otherwise you would've told me from the start what the hell you really were."

He didn't respond to that right away. In the silence that ensued, with the club's bass pounding at the same speed as your heartbeat, you began to doubt yourself. Couldn't you have handled that with a little more finesse? What if Bucky was offended by your response that he decided he was going to turn you away?

When he finally spoke, it was with an edge of mockery and triumph in his voice. "Just so we're clear: you've come to ask a crime lord to help you when the very fact of me being one had you running off in the first place."

"I couldn't think of anyone else to go to."

Bucky scoffed. "I sure hope the irony's not lost on you."

The smile you offered him was sardonic at best. "Believe me, it's not."

Just when you were convinced that you'd screwed this up entirely, Bucky pushed himself off the edge of his desk and moved towards you, closing the distance. Neon blue strobe lights flashed through the floor-to-ceiling window that looked out over the club, casting otherworldly shadows across his face as he stalked nearer. You didn't turn your head to watch when he dropped into the sofa next to you, stretching his arms wide across the headrest. His fingers feathered against one of your shoulder blades.

From the corner of your eye you watched as he tilted his head back to look at the ceiling, sighing once again. "If you want my help, you'll comply with whatever I set out for you," he said.

"Like what?"

You could feel his gaze on you. "For starters, I'd like a kiss."

"Are you serious? Now?"

"Now," he echoed.

"And that's it?"

He gave a light shrug. "The night's still young. We'll just have to see how things go."

"But why?"

"Why not?" he countered, fingers drumming against the headrest. "Besides, you're the one who thought there was something special between us. Let's see what's left."

For a moment, you hesitated. Bucky's request was simple, but that was where the uncertainty lay. There was something between the two of you, even now, even after you left him in the lurch, that it was enough for you to reach out to him. You were doubtful a kiss would prove that to him, though.

There had been so much more you'd done with him, after all.

"Well?"

You studied his face. His expression was still passive, but curiosity shone bright in his eyes. What choice did you have? David was counting on you now, his own fear and panic elevating your own. With a tilt of your head you leaned forward, eyes falling closed, as you caught Bucky's lips with yours.

Bucky didn't react at first, and you nearly stopped, too shy and uncertain to entertain the possibility of being unwanted, that this was just a cheap way for him to get back at you. But then his lips moved against yours, bold and intentional; when he coaxed your mouth opened and his tongue slid past your teeth, you realized.

He still wanted you.

Both your phone and your purse dropped somewhere below you as one of his arms wrapped around your shoulders tightly. Bucky drew you in deeper, his hold fierce, lips desperate and bruising, pulling you into a well of memories: his naked body against yours, mouth lingering on intimate spots that made you cry out in ecstasy, the sweet words he'd whispered in your ear while you came down from your high. Let me give you more. Let me give you everything. You just have to stay. Can you do that? For me?

His lips latched onto the side of your neck as you lost yourself further in his touch, fingers tangled in his dark hair, while his large hand fanned across your breast—

Your phone was like a grenade going off. You jerked back in panic, gasping for breath while the familiar melody on your device blared throughout the room. It was Bucky who got to it first.

"How fitting," he said, turning your phone around so you could see the screen. "It's your brother."

Heart hammering in your chest, you didn't move at first.

"Go ahead, answer it," he ordered, holding out your phone to you. "Tell David the money will be wired to his account in less than thirty and he's got you to thank for this."

His words were like a bucket of cold water flung at your face. With sudden clarity you remembered why you'd come here in the first place, and it wasn't to re-ignite things with an old flame. You needed Bucky's help, and, to your immense relief, he was giving it to you.

When you accepted your brother's call you cut straight to the chase, telling him of the lifeline Bucky was throwing his way. The only one, you emphasized, hanging up before he could profess any gratitude. David had work to do, but you'd done your part. Your mom would get to keep her house, just like she deserved to.

You looked at Bucky. "Thank you. You don't know how much this means to my family."

He smirked at you, his hair now tousled thanks to your doing. "Don't thank me just yet, sweetheart. We're not quite done, are we?"

During the call one of his hands had crept along the inside of your thigh. It remained there, his hold entirely too tight and too hot, even through the fabric of your slacks. When Bucky spoke, you didn't miss the raw desire in his voice, the predatory anticipation that lingered on his smirk.

"We'll finally finish what we started, sweetheart. Just like we were always meant to."

Jimin's "Like Crazy" had me in such a chokehold when I first listened to it that it inspired this whole damn story; it's the song I imagined blasting down in the club while Reader haggles with Bucky. Hope you guys enjoyed it!

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #mafia!bucky barnes x reader #mafia!bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x y/n #bucky barnes au #james buchanan bucky barnes

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jacesbeloved · 1 year

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prettiest of them all

summary: being rhaenyra's lady-in-waiting ever since your mother passed, it was unfathomable that you and jace spent time with each other. however, until when can he restrict himself to just looking at you and treating you as a friend?

pairing: jacaerys velaryon x fem!reader

notes: mild nsfw, wrote this since i'm kind of hitting a writing slump and i don't want to rn so yea wrote this on a whim again 😭 i hope y'all like it,, my peace offering after "remember me, always"

notes #2: also, if it's sort of confusing, basically ur mother is nyra's bestfriend. you and jace were basically born a year apart (jace is older) so when your mother passed, nyra took u under her wing and u and jace are basically childhood sweethearts <3

"I doubt anyone in the seven kingdoms can match your beauty, princess." You pause abruptly, "Or should I say... queen?" The two of you giggle with each other as you lock the necklace on the back of Rhaenyra's head.

The woman steps back from you and looks at her reflection in the mirror, turning slowly. You watched in awe as the woman, who was once as young as you are now, readied herself for the crowning in front of the masses.

When she finishes looking around, Rhaenyra turns to you.

"Shouldn't you be getting ready as well, Y/N?" She asks.

Your forehead creased, and you took a short glance at your statute before turning back at Rhaenyra. "Princess... I'm already dressed," you chuckle lightly at her.

"That isn't the dress I had tailored for you, Y/N," she playfully glares at you, walking to her drawer before grabbing something. You watched with anticipation as you heard the clanking of jewelry inside.

She pulls a beautiful ruby gemstone from it, beautifully placed in the middle of a Valyrian steel chain. You blink three times, your throat drying, when she starts walking over to you.

Rhaenyra saw the confused look on your face, which made her chuckle. "Calm down, Y/N, it's just a small gift."

"B-but... princess-" Rhaenyra shushes you, showing you the necklace up close. "Y/N, your mother was one of the people I hold closest to my heart."

"And when you were just a babe, you were always with me. When she left the world, I took you under my wing and treated you as my own.... Just as I had promised her." She sighs, pursing her lips as she sees your face drop a bit.

She runs her hand through your hair, "As your future queen, as your princess, I command you to accept this necklace. Wear it later, during my crowning." Rhaenyra places the piece of jewelry softly on the palm of your hand. Covering your hand with hers as she cradled your hand.

You turned to look deeply at the princess, lips apart as you nodded, placing your hand on top of hers as well.

"Very well, my future queen." The light-haired woman tenderly smiles at you before withdrawing her hands. "I... I hope you know that I am forever in your debt, Aunt Rhaenyra."

"It's nothing, really, Y/N. Now go change into your dress, I sent someone that would help you put it on." You nod at the older's statement as you were dismissed, a sly smile on her face.

You had walked quickly back to your quarters, excited to see the dress. The necklace was inside of a box that Rhaenyra had also given you, making sure that it wouldn't move much and cause damage as you were skipping through the halls of the Red Keep.

When you arrived in your room, there was a new hanger by your cabinet. You smile giddily, running to the hanger and pulling off the coat only to see such a beautiful dress in red, with laced red lantern sleeves and an off-shoulder neckline where the ruby necklace would sit nicely.

You didn't need someone to help you; with how ecstatic you were about wearing the dress, you wore it as soon as you saw it.

The dress slipped right on, perfectly fitting in everything. It hugged your chest area nicely, and its length was perfect. You could easily tell that Rhaenyra truly did take note of your measurements and style.

When you looked at yourself in the mirror, it was like the air in your body was knocked out of you. You looked so pretty, so elegant.

As you twirled around the mirror, a voice spoke.

"Pardon me for entering your room, but... the strap's a bit twisted," your body turned quickly, eyes narrowing as you were greeted by the princess' son,

Jacaerys.

He smiled tightly as he walked over to you, closing the door. "May I?"

You watched him with awestruck eyes as you nodded, seeing him dressed perfectly, feeling his fingertips on your skin as he fixed the strap on your dress.

"There," he breathes out. Jace walked forward before looking back at you, getting a full view of you in your dress.

The prince himself was already dressed. Clothed in the finest leather of the seven kingdoms, the sigil of House Targaryen incorporated into his outfit as he looked immaculate. Not much was changed in his hair, only that it was curled a bit like Lucerys'.

"Did you hear what I said, Y/N?" You hear his chuckle as you snap out of your trance.

When he sees the unaware look on your face, he laughs. "I said, you look pretty. Very. Possibly the prettiest in the whole seven kingdoms."

Your cheeks heat up at the sudden compliment, looking away from him and heading to your dresser.

"Your mother's the prettiest, my prince," you reply with a laugh, powdering your face. The sides of Jace's lips rise before he walks over to you.

"Well, I believe that I am allowed to exempt my own mother, don't I, Y/N?"

"Of course," you glare at him, his lips stretching into a teasing smile as his eyes catch onto the all-too-familiar jewelry box, knowing full well what's inside of it.

He unclasps the small lock on it, opens it, and turns to you. The two of you stare silently at the necklace before he pulls it out of the box.

You gulp nervously when you see him walk behind you, keeping his eyes fixated on your neck through the mirror. "Such a pretty neck," he thought.

"D'you know... that these types of necklaces," you hiss as the cold metal is placed onto your neck, Jace's hands feather-like as he maneuvered it skillfully. "Are incredibly strong?"

"They're a staple necklace of my family, red jewels and valyrian steel. Expertly crafted to withstand various things and experience a lot as well. Our ancestors used to wear it amidst battles; Queen Visenya, an example." He explained further. The lock of the necklace clicked upon his movement.

Your fingers touched the jewels on your neck in a cautious manner, not wanting to damage them. You glanced at Jace, seeing him watch you with his arms behind his back, his eyes trailing up and down your figure as his breath hitched when he locked eyes with you.

"Gods, has anyone already told you that you look incredible right now?" He breathes out, mouth agape, as he only registers how you look now.

The compliment makes you giggle like a young girl being teased by her crush.

"Oh, someone already has. It's like he likes me," you frown, faking innocence as you acted like you were thinking. The man in front of you slowly caught on to what you were trying to say.

"I think he does. I think he really, really does." Jace nods, practically confessing his feelings for you in such a discreet manner that it just makes your stomach fill with emotions.

A small smile comes to your lips as you step forward to look the prince in the eye. You beckoned him to lean down to you, Jace's eyebrows raising a bit in surprise before he complied.

You stood on your tiptoes, "I think... I like him as well."

Jace suddenly feels his whole body stop to think about what you just said. He blinks a bit, staring at your face—which basically lit up the room more than any other candle.

His mouth opened to speak, but no words came out; he was speechless.

The two of you have known each other since a child, having been with their family for as long as Jace could remember and being his long-time crush ever since your mother and Rhaenyra had introduced both of you to each other as a child.

And you felt the same. Every bit of feeling that Jace had for you all those years, you had for him as well.

Years of pining, of discreet flirting, of subtle touches—here you both are now.

"So does that mean- I'm uh, I'm your... " You scoff at the man's stammering, pulling him close by his collar and kissing him on the cheek. "Yes, Jacaerys."

He looks at you with wide eyes before he sighs, letting his instincts take over as he pulls you even closer by your waist, softly touching your lips with his. You smile a bit into the kiss, letting him take control of the kiss.

You felt his hands fall from your waist to your hips, squeezing the soft flesh before he pushes his body weight onto yours, backing you up until you hit the edge of your dresser.

The way Jace's tongue swiped and moved inside your mouth was skillful, as if he had lots of time in Dragonstone to practice for this very moment. He angled his head, using his hands to caress your face as he licked your lip, biting lightly on it.

Your hands gripped his biceps as you pulled away breathlessly, finding his hands right by your sides. His eyes darken as he opens them; your lips parted, panting for air, and your eyes were just as lust-blown as his; the sight was far from what he had imagined. It was better, much more erotic.

You felt something press against your thigh, something hard. Jace licked his lips before swallowing harshly.

"How much time do we have before my mother's crowning?" He asks, running his hand behind you as he takes note of the strings that tie your dress.

You inhaled sharply, your hands coming onto his chest as you held one of the buckles of his top.

"Twenty minutes, I think." You sighed, shrugging at him. He smirked at that, nodding at you before the strings of your dress suddenly loosened, the prince in front of you descending to his knees.

"Well then, let's make this fast, yeah?"

hearts, reactions, replies, and reblogs are very appreciated if you liked the story! <3 ^w^

jace taglist: @cosmicfairygirl @simrah1012 @lucerysvelaryonstan @lady-stark-winter-rose @moon1gt @aureliapappa @jcrsctrl @bobfloydluvsblackwomen @m4nd0l0r

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