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#if I hear one quip from you about immortality
kedreeva · 1 year
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hi, how do you mean prompts and offerings are closed - is this about requests or in general? I'd like to hear your thoughts on something Eddie related but I'm new to tumblr and don't know exactly how it works and I don't want to disrespect your blog rules so I figured I'd ask first 😅
Oh you're very sweet and I appreciate you looking out for me! you are absolutely 100% welcome to send me thoughts on Eddie or ask for my thoughts! I adore talking meta, I LOVE interacting with other fans of the things i like, I would be pleased as punch to hear from you :)
Also welcome to tumblr! I'll write the rest of this to hopefully give you an easier time understanding what's up, in case you run into similar things elsewhere!
Prompts (here on my blog and usually in general around Tumblr) refers to creative prompts such as fic prompts or art prompts, which people leave in the askboxes of other users to fill as they see fit. Some folks are open to receiving these at any time, some (like me) only take them when they announce their askbox is open to prompts, and others don't ever take them. General etiquette if there's no note should be to ask before just blindly sending a prompt that requests someone do work for you (even if it's fun work!), sort of like you've done here! You can find my askbox prompts here if you'd like to see what I mean!
Offerings are specific to this blog; I once reblogged a little chain reblog meme for fun asking basically "what would you leave at my shrine" and so many people sent in really adorable offerings that I was answering asks for a very long time. I still have a backlog of them in fact! I answer them with small well-wishes and mundane blessings, and I think we all have a lot of fun with it, especially since there's a bit of a joke around here that I'm... not quite human, I suppose. You can find previous offerings posts here if you want to see what I mean!
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littlejuicebox · 1 month
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GINAAA MY GIRL!
Sending you a dadstarion prompt because you already know I LOVEEE your dadstarion content.
How did Tav find out she was pregnant with baby Gale? And how did Astarion react to the news?! Inquiring minds want to know.
To have and to hold.
Such a lovely prompt, my friend! Hope you like it!
Summary: Astarion turned mortal a few months ago, and this is his first-time experiencing illness of any kind. Unfortunately, as soon as he recovers, you start to show signs of sickness as well. Your condition is a bit different from his, though. (For more of this series check out the ‘Dadstarion’ section of my master list.)
Tags/Warnings: Dadstarion, domestic af, fluff, talk of illness, talk of vomiting, the mildest of angst with the mostest of comfort, pregnancy, etc.
A/N: I work in healthcare, not law, so I can’t guarantee the legalese is accurate lol.
Word count: 2.3K
-----
“Don’t come closer, darling, I’m disgusting.” Astarion groans from where you find him one morning, curled up on the bathroom floor.
It had been a few months since Gale of Waterdeep cast Wish, and from that moment until now the retired rogue had been a happy, healthy mortal. There were so many benefits to curing his vampirism that the elf never fully considered one of the major downsides… illness.
He’d never experienced a malady like this in his life. At least not in the one he could remember.
It’s horrible.
How had his little love or any of his friends endured this, more than once, in the past ten years?
Astarion is quite certain he contracted food poisoning from that questionable slab of salmon he ate at the Blushing Mermaid yesterday evening. He never did understand why you liked eating at that lowbrow tavern in the first place.
You crouch to examine your husband, pressing a soothing hand onto his forehead before running it down to cup his cheek.
“Astarion, my love, you have a fever.” You murmur, frowning with concern as you push sweaty curls from his face.
“Please make more obvious observations, dear,” Astarion gripes as he forces himself to sit up, still clutching his stomach. Gods, the vile churning in his gut is incessant.
He’s about to continue on with his quip, but the sudden urge to be sick forces the elf to shut up and scramble to the toilet. You hear the sounds of violent retching moments later.
“We are never going back to the Blushing Mermaid,” Astarion grumbles once the wave of illness subsides. His face is pressed against the toilet; all sense of decorum is gone. The rotten fish poisoning his insides won over any bits of pride he might have been clinging to.
You move to grab a wash rag, dampening it under the tap before kneeling back down by your husband.
“Poor thing,” You coo, folding the cloth in half before dabbing it against the back of Astarion’s neck, hoping to ease the fever.
The elf’s eyes flutter closed as he allows you to fawn over him for a moment. And then he groans and flicks his hand, palm faced downward, as if trying to shoo you away. His voice is hoarse when he says, “Just leave me here and go get ready for your meeting, darling. I’ll be fine.”
“In sickness and in health, remember?” You ask, running the cool cloth over Astarion’s face, causing him to sigh thankfully at the slight relief, “I’ll send word to the other Counsellors to inform them that I won’t be attending. You’ve never been ill before; I don’t want to leave you like this. Wyll can fill me in later.”
“Yes, ‘in sickness and in health’ and all that, darling, but those vows also included ‘until death do us part’ and I was an immortal vampire when we made them. So you were technically entering that verbal contract under false pretenses, which one could argue means it’s null and void. Go to the meeting, it’s—“
Astarion almost manages to finish his rambling legalese before more putrid liquid spews out of his mouth. When he’s finished vomiting, he whines again, any bit of stubborn resilience and feeble attempts at selflessness abandoned.
“On second thought, maybe you should stay here,” He says, his chest heaving with exertion as he clenches his eyes shut, “Please tell me you have a spell for this.”
“Unfortunately not, my love. I only have a spell for curses. Best I can do is half a bottle of Elixir of Health, some ginger-peppermint tea, and a bath.” You sigh, already crossing the bathroom on your way to the tub. You fiddle with the taps for a moment to start the bath and then begin to pour oils into the flowing water.
“Deal,” Your husband mutters, peeling off his sweat-soaked night shirt, “But none of that vile honey you got at the market here in town for my tea; I want the one Shadowheart and Lae’zel sent from Neverwinter.”
“Anything you say, Lord Ancunin.” You joke, rolling your eyes at your husband’s fussiness. He’d barely regained his sense of taste a few months ago and already favored upscale ingredients and meals, as if mortal food hadn’t been but ash in his mouth for two hundred years.
The elf glares at your insolence but doesn’t retort; he’s too busy trying to keep himself from vomiting again.
*
The following morning, Astarion wakes feeling much better. Practically brand new, in fact. It seems the potion and your strange flower child medicine must have done the trick. He sighs a breath of relief and then rolls to snuggle against you for a few more precious moments. He reaches his arms out and grasps at nothing but air.
The silver-haired elf immediately frowns and sits up. That’s exceptionally odd. You were not a morning person; you never had been in the ten years he’d known you. You always slept in longer than him, even in the wilds. On more than one occasion he’d had to lure you out of your nearly comatose slumber with the tempting smells of coffee and breakfast.
Astarion hears you gagging in the bathroom and goes to investigate. He soon finds you clinging to the toilet, practically mirroring how he looked the day prior.
“Oh no, little love, do you think you have food poisoning, too?” He questions, frowning slightly before kneeling down to press his hand against your forehead just like you’d done to him, “No fever, though.”
You whine, leaning into your husband’s hand before grumbling, “Damn the Blushing Mermaid straight to Stygia! Why do I even like that place, again?”
Astarion laughs, “I’ve been wondering the same thing for years, dear. I hope now you’ll finally reconsider. Do you want some tea and a bath?”
“Please,” You say, just before another wave of nausea hits you, forcing you to throw your head into the toilet and gag. Frustratingly, not much actually comes out despite the waves of sickness coursing through your body.
Gods, you wish you could simply vomit and feel relief.
Astarion begins to prepare the appropriate remedies, much like you’d done for him the day before. Thankfully, you seem to recover much faster than he did, and by midday you look and feel completely normal.
Good thing, too. You two were out of any elixirs that may have helped you had your ailment been as severe as Astarion's.
“Perhaps I’m just a better healer than you, darling.” The silver-haired elf teases as the two of you take afternoon tea in the sunroom.
“Perhaps I’m just stronger and more resilient than you, my love.” You retort, wrinkling your nose in jest at your husband.
He chuckles softly and then presses a kiss to your nose, “Agree to disagree.”
*
Astarion thinks the two of you are past this bit of bad luck, but when he wakes the following morning, he hears you retching once again.
When the elf finds you in the bathroom, appearing as almost an exact repeat of yesterday, though perhaps a bit worse, his brow furrows.
“Darling, I'm worried now. You look more ill than before. Perhaps we should take a trip to Jaheira? I can head to the apothecary for another Elixir of Health while she looks you over.” He murmurs gently, extending his hands to pull you to your feet.
You simply nod in agreement, too nauseated to do more than follow your husband’s lead as he slips you into a set of robes and ushers you into the carriage.
*
When Astarion returns to Jaheira’s after dashing out to the apothecary, he finds you sitting at the druid’s dining table. The two of you stop whatever hushed conversation you’d been having and turn to look at him in unison.
“Feeling any better, Tav?” He asks, coming to stand by your side before placing a worried hand upon your shoulder. You simply cover your hand with his and nod in response.
“Much better,” You say, flashing your husband a small smile. Something about your expression looks hazed, as if you’re stuck in a daydream. Poor thing, you're probably exhausted and experiencing brain fog.
“I’m sure you’ll be just fine with the teas and medicinals I’ve given you,” Jaheira assures, her eyes flickering between the two of you. She grins for the briefest moment before falling back into her typical, more serious demeanor.
Astarion swears he feels like something is off, but when he turns to give you a questioning look, you’re the picture of happiness as you sip from your tea cup, finishing it off.
Well, at least you’re doing what Jaheira has prescribed.
“What about the Elixir of Health I’ve just purchased?” Your husband asks, lifting the bag in his hand, “Will that help?”
“Oh, I recommend you keep it for something else. I don’t think Tav needs it for this,” The druid responds before standing, signaling it’s the end of the visit. She was always quite straight forward and lacking in certain genteel social graces, in Astarion’s opinion.
“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting with the Harpers.”
You quickly bid your goodbyes and Astarion helps you back into the carriage, eager to get you back to bed so that you can sleep off the rest of this sickness.
*
Astarion notices you’re uncharacteristically quiet on the carriage ride home. He typically doesn’t mind when you’re in one of your pensive, stoic moods. But this illness of yours had him more anxious than usual and he had to know more about Jaheira’s examination results, if only to ease his own worries.
“Darling,” He starts, taking your hand in his. But you don’t seem to hear him; you’re still lost in your own little world.
“My love,” He says, this time a bit more urgently, squeezing your hand just enough to pull your attention to him, “What did Jaheira say, exactly? Did she mention how long this illness will last?”
“Oh, the nausea will probably go on for a few weeks,” You reply, a goofy, lopsided smile breaking across your face. You cannot stifle your grin at the little secret you know you’ll be unable to keep for more than a few moments longer.
“Weeks?” Astarion questions, his voice pitching up with worry and brows stitching together in concern.
Why in the hells are you smiling? What druid bullshit was in the tea Jaheira gave you?
He folds his arms across his chest, not at all pleased by the lack of seriousness you seem to display. The idea of you being sick for weeks makes his heart hurt and his stomach churn as if he’s still sick. He could never stand to see you uncomfortable.
“Tav, are you drugged? This is serious. I fail to see what there is to be smiling about right now. You’re going to be nauseous for weeks and you can’t use an Elixir of Health? Are you absolutely sure Jaheira even knows what she’s—“
“I’m pregnant, Astarion,” You interrupt, and you cannot help but to laugh at your husband as his mouth hangs open mid-sentence, frozen in shock.
He blinks for a moment or two, otherwise completely still as his brain rushes to process the new information.
When the elf finally regains his composure and finds his ability to speak, he shoots out a flustered, rambled, “Darling, I— I’m sorry, can you repeat that? I’m not certain I heard you correctly. The road is quite bumpy and the wheels of the carriage are loud— I think they need oil— and the horses—“
You laugh and firmly grasp your husband’s hand, wholly capturing his attention before murmuring, “You ridiculous elf. You heard me the first time. I’m pregnant, Astarion.”
You don’t think you’ve ever seen a bigger grin cross your husband’s face.
“Tav, darling, I— gods, just come here to me.”
Astarion’s lips crash into yours, and he’s smiling into the kiss as he threads a hand through your hair, intent on pressing you closer into him. A tiny, delighted hum escapes your husband as he uses the kiss to express all the feelings he cannot yet put into words.
When he finally pulls away, he cups your face with his hands and peppers a few more kisses upon your lips.
“Is this your way of telling me you’re happy about this, Astarion?” You ask, grinning at your husband as he gazes upon you with the most besotted eyes you’ve ever seen.
“Thrilled, my love,” He whispers, before pressing forward to kiss you again, trying to convey the depth of his excitement with his affections. He doesn’t let go of you the rest of the way home, almost desperate to cover you in worshipful kisses, each one a little vow of love to you.
You notice he's unusually quiet, but then, he’s far too busy smiling and smooching to do much talking.
*
Later that evening, you move to get out of bed and head toward the bedchamber door.
“Ah, ah, ah. Where do you think you’re going, little love?” Astarion calls, already tossing his book aside to follow after you, “What do you need? Let me bring it to you.”
“I just wanted a cup of water, Astarion. I can go get—“ You start, but he quickly presses a kiss to your lips, effectively quieting you.
“Hush, my love. You’re still nauseated and you’re carrying very precious cargo.” He gently chastises as he turns you by your shoulders and steers you back toward the bed.
“You’re being dramatic,” You grumble, sitting back down in the bed and wrinkling your nose at your husband.
“Perhaps,” He agrees, grinning down at you as he gently folds the blankets back around your legs, “But you knew exactly the type of theatrics you signed up for when you married me, darling. 'To have and to hold, to love and to cherish' and all that, hm?”
And in that moment, Astarion was certain he’d never love and cherish anything more than you.
Nine months later, the little silver-haired newborn he held in his arms would prove him wrong.
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Steddie accidental voyeurism and ‘Steve owes Jonathan Byers an apology because if he had a camera he’d also be tempted to immortalize Eddie in this moment for future reference’
hi anon !! omg i’m in love with this prompt 💛 thank you so much for the submission, hope you enjoy :)
warnings: this one is heavy on the perv!eddie in the beginning so if that’s not your thing, feel free to skip, accidental voyeurism, frotting
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eddie knows he’s all types of fucked up for this. he knows there’s a sick place in hell for guys like him.
steve’s his roommate, his supposed ‘best friend,’ the guy who saved him from imminent death in an alternate dimension.
yet here he is—jerking himself off with steve’s favorite pair of gym shorts clutched between his dick and his fist. thrusting and dirty talking his way to the finish line as if his best friend can actually hear him:
“you’re such a cocktease, stevie. always bending over right in front of me in those tight little outfits. just love to whore yourself out for my attention, don’t you?”
“does your girlfriend know how desperate you are for my cock? does she know how dumb you get when i choke you on it?”
“so beautiful, baby. so goddamn beautiful. gonna paint your pretty face with my cum. stay still. be good and take it, baby. let me fuck you right.”
he’s wearing Steve’s cologne—doused himself in the piney scent to enhance the sensory experience. he’s got a spread of stolen polaroids laid out in front of him.
a glorious mixture of cutesy and depraved pictures that steve’s ‘girlfriend’ of the month has taken of him (pictures that she finds mysteriously missing from her wallet whenever she comes over and eddie’s home).
eddie’s gazing at his three favorites as he works himself over—a close-up of steve’s blurry tits, steve smiling with his tongue poking out between his teeth, and steve eating pussy like it’s his last fucking meal on death row.
everything about that boy—correction: his boy—is perfect.
none of the girls he brings home deserve him. he’s pure gold, the sun personified, rare.
eddie watches them. observes the ways they take advantage of his kindness. the little jabs they make at his intelligence. the quipped commentary surrounding their exits. it boils his blood, makes his skin burn, and if steve was his? he’d never let him forget how loved he is. he’d treasure him, keep him safe, worship him up and down.
it doesn’t matter. it can’t matter, because there’s nothing eddie can do to force steve to feel the same way.
he understands that. he’s not delusional. but, he has to do something about it. he has to cope with this insatiable itch somehow.
so, while steve’s at work, eddie sneaks into his best friend’s bedroom and rolls around in his sheets.
he gets stupidly high off of it, doesn’t need a joint to do the trick.
he rubs his cock over his pillow and smiles with pure love while he does it. 
he digs through steve’s hamper and finds his gym clothes from that morning—still ripe with natural musk, sweat, and salt. eddie buries his face in them. licks over the crotch. fingers himself with his ass pointed skyward, head in the sand—drowning in steve’s pretty filth. crying out and letting his unfiltered desire flood the room.
and if he’s really lucky, like today, he’ll find an old sock that steve’s used to wipe himself clean after fucking one of those careless girls. dried with wasted cum because steve’s a good boy who pulls out and never cums inside one of his hook-ups.
meanwhile, eddie dreams of cumming inside him with the gross, used cotton pressed to his lips. he loves to suckle on the fabric. pretends he’s eating steve out after pumping him full. it’s nasty and bitter and all he thinks about. can’t get enough of steve on his tongue.
“want you to sit on my face, stevie. don’t be afraid, love. you won’t hurt me. i’ll take such good care of you. don’t even need to breathe. just need to taste you,” he babbles to himself and tightens his grip, “that’s it. want you to squeeze me between your pretty thighs. so fucking perfect. jesus.”
eddie’s moments away from blowing his load when steve rounds the corner and saunters on into his bedroom. home hours early from work without any warning.
“hey man! thought i heard you in here. powers out at family video and—”
he stops in his tracks. mouth gaping wide open.
“fuck. fuck. steve,” eddie’s stuck in place like a deer in headlights. dick fully erect and leaking onto his best friend’s shorts which are still in his hand, “im so sorry. i—let me get dressed and i’ll—um—i’ll leave—”
steve approaches eddie with a curious look on his face and pink coloring his cheeks. his chest rises and falls slowly and there’s a dazed look behind his eyes. he licks over his lips once and reaches a hand out. so close, he’s almost touching eddie’s cock which doesn’t make any sense because—
“let me,” he nods emphatically and eddie realizes they’re both shaking from something other than fear, “please.”
“steve. you don’t have to. you shouldn’t. i’m—i’m the one who fucked up,” eddie says unconvincingly, because all he wants is to continue basking in the wonder of this absurd fever dream.
“eds,” steve shivers visibly and shoves down the waistband of his sweatpants to reveal his dick. “i’m so fucking hard. can i—i wanna make you feel good—make us feel good.”
eddie pinches his own arm.
he’s waiting for steve to snap out of it. he’s convinced the guy is drugged or hallucinating or both. but, then, he leans closer and ghosts his lips over the corner of eddie’s open mouth. flicks his tongue and runs it over his bottom lip.
“please. let me give you the real thing.”
“okay,” eddie agrees, as steve takes them both into one hand with obvious urgency, “anything—you can have anything you want.”
steve winks at him, ducks down to kiss his throat, and releases a weak sigh into eddie’s neck as he watches his huge hand encompass both of their dicks.
the spread of shared precum eases the sticky drag of skin on skin and creates the perfect balance of friction. steve’s cock is wider than eddie’s. it’s pinker, too. but eddie grins happily at the few inches of length he has on his friend.
“y—you don’t care that i was being a creep?” eddie moans, knowing he won’t last long. fuck steve’s even prettier this close up, “why don’t you care?”
steve pumps them faster. his hips are bumping into eddie’s as he thrusts harder. moans dripping from his throat like honey.
“because i’ve been trying to get you to fuck me for the past year and a half,” steve uses his other hand to push eddie’s head forward and kisses him fully which sends him to the goddamn moon and back.
they lick behind teeth, tangle tongues, swallow groans and filthy words.
steve bites eddie’s lip and eddie does it right back.
they mirror each other in the strangest and most stunning way—nothing and everything alike.
eddie’s hands are kneading the meat of steve’s ass. he grazes a finger over his boy’s hole and revels in the sharp gasp it coaxes out of him.
“do that again,” steve groans and eddie obliges, “no one’s ever touched me there. feels so good.”
steve is going to be the death of him. steve’s going to kill him and eddie’s going to smile the whole way through.
“steve—i’m a fucking freak,” eddie pulls away to admit as he nibbles on steve’s ears and pumps the tip of his pointer finger into his ass, “i’ve been sneaking into your room and stealing polaroids from—”
steve bites him on the shoulder to demand silence and leaves the gorgeous imprint of his teeth. eddie whines and folds instantly, breathing heavily.
“and i jerk off with your rings on whenever you go to band practice so shut the fuck up and cum for me,” steve slams their lips back together and at the sound of his words and ridiculous confession, eddie cums harder than he ever has in his entire fucking life. a minute later, steve follows suit.
later, after a quick nap in the mess they’ve made, steve wakes eddie up with his mouth stretched around his cock and whispers, “it’s time for round two, baby. go get your rings. we’re trying something.”
taglist (message me to be added or removed at any time <3): @estrellami-1, @disastardly, @ilovecupcakesandtea, @the-redthread, @asbealthgn, @bestofbucky, @vampireinthesun, @carlyv, @shrimply-a-menace, @lordrrascal, @jjoesjonas, @malachitedevil, @anxiouseds, @feraleddiekinninghours, @gay-little-bitch, @jhrc666, @pinkdaisies1998, @mcneen, @perseus-notjackson, @eiddets, @corroded-coffin-groupie, @three-possums-playing-human, @stevesbipanic, @plutoshelm, @arkenstoned, @indiearr
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sourstroll · 8 months
Text
Summer Of Cum 2023
Day 13 - Moneyshot
Pairing: Daniel/Oscar
WC: 1284
❀❀❀❀
“Are you sure?”
Daniel feels like he’s asked Oscar that question about a hundred times now, but he had to be sure. The last thing he wanted was to cross a boundary Oscar didn’t even know he had.
Oscar found it funny, how concerned Daniel was. Oscar laughed softly, going to take a sip from the rapidly cooling cappuccino he’d gotten earlier, before the topic of filming each other during sex popped into their conversation. “You know I’ve done that before, right?” Oscar said instead of assuring Daniel that it was completely fine.
Daniel’s eyes widened a bit cartoonishly, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. He can’t, really, because Oscar was only 22 and had apparently already filmed himself during sex, something Daniel hadn’t done even once. “Please tell me you still have that video,” Daniel said, voice pleading. Nothing could stop him from imagining what exactly Oscar filmed himself doing, imagining trembling hands and weird angles, unskilled flicks of his wrist and shotty camera work. They were in the most unsexiest of places, a restaurant near Daniel’s that he swore tasted just like his mom’s cooking, fit with tacky wallpaper and booths that had to be older than Oscar, and yet, Daniel could still feel the very beginnings of his arousal pooling in his stomach.
“I might be able to dig it up,” Oscar said playfully, eyeing the potatoes on Daniel’s plate before stealing some with his fork. “I think I was 18, about to be 19. It’s an old one,” he hummed, said through his mouthful of food.
“Jesus Christ,” Daniel sighed, having to rest his face in his hands for a moment, not sure what to do with the knowledge that a video of Oscar like that existed already. “Are you, like, purposely trying to jailbait me, or?” Daniel huffed out, his shoulders relaxing slightly when he heard Oscar laugh again.
“I mean, I’m not the one dating someone 10 years younger than me,” Oscar quipped, affectionate with his delivery. He never minded their difference in age, though he knew sometimes Daniel worried he was moving too fast or somehow forcing Oscar to do things, which wasn’t the case. “Does that turn you on? Thinking about me when I was 18?” Oscar asked softly, out of pure curiosity and just to bust Daniel’s balls.
Daniel looked up from his hands and gave him a look, brows furrowed and lips thinned into a tight line, like he was trying to hold something back. “I’m not going to answer that,” he finally spoke, thinking it might incriminate him much less if he didn’t express any of his thoughts about a teenage Oscar.
“It does. I knew it would,” Oscar hummed contentedly. Daniel was so easy to read sometimes.
Daniel rolled his eyes and went back to staring down at his plate of breakfast food, poking his fork into his eggs, planning on eating them at some point. “What if someone hacks into my iCloud?” It’s ridiculous, and he knows that, but he had to cover all his bases, or else he’d be left with more anxiety than he started with.
“Daniel. Stop it,” Oscar chuckled, reaching to place his hand on top of Daniel’s, gently sliding his fingers up his arm, slow and gentle. “Live a little, will you?”
———
Daniel can’t remember why he was so worried about this in the first place. It’s much different, he realized, when he’s got Oscar on his hands and knees, pounding into the younger man from behind, his phone set up so you could see the length of Oscar’s body, including his face. That part was non-negotiable, being able to see exactly how Oscar reacted to him. Daniel’s body was cut off from the waist up, but he didn’t mind; all he wanted was to see Oscar fall apart beneath him.
Daniel’s breaths were harsh and shaky, staring down at where he was repeatedly splitting Oscar open. It’s almost too much, the thought that they were immortalizing this moment forever, for Daniel to watch whenever he wanted and get himself off to.
Oscar was pliant as usual, face pushed into the pillows, trying not to come too fast before they got a good video. He pushed his hips back against Daniel with every forward thrust, sweet whimpers escaping his lips. “Harder, Danny,” he whined and gripped the pillow a little tighter, turning his head to look at the phone, face scrunched up in pleasure.
Daniel let out a strained moan and also glanced at his phone, hands itching to grab it, to get even closer. “Such a fuckin’ slut,” he groaned, reaching down to grab a fistful of Oscar’s hair, pushing him harder into the pillows. “Only good for taking my cock, huh?” Daniel growled. The older man was quick to grab the phone from its perch on the nightstand, still pistoning into him as he pointed it at Oscar’s face. It was the perfect view, Oscar practically drooling all over himself over how good he felt.
Oscar couldn’t say anything for a moment, his body wound up and ready to release. The feeling of Daniel’s hand tangled in his hair made his toes curl, in love with how strong he was, how he could easily manhandle him and take what he wanted. “Yeah, that’s all I wanna do,” Oscar squeaked out between moans. “Just wanna be good for you.”
Daniel never let up, even as he pointed the phone down between them, getting the perfect shot of himself ruining Oscar. “You’re fuckin’ perfect, so good for me, baby,” he sighed.
Daniel’s words of encouragement always did it for him, always filled him with a sweetness and adoration that Oscar only ever felt with him. It was only moments later that Oscar came, hard, all over the bed below them. He let out something close to a scream, the full force of his orgasm surprising him with its intensity.
“That’s it,” Daniel praised, using his last bit of stamina to get himself over the edge, too. Daniel pulled out seconds before he came, his cock resting over the curve of Oscar’s ass and shooting thick ropes of come up his back. He nearly didn’t catch it on camera with the way his orgasm swirled around him, wrapping around his limbs and making him feel hot all over.
Oscar collapsed underneath him, nothing but whiny breaths coming out of him, his skin flushed and his limbs useless.
Daniel hadn’t stopped the video just yet, feeling greedy as he reached down to spread Oscar’s cheeks apart with one hand, filming the way his entrance gaped slightly, how it fluttered around nothing, silently begging to be filled again.
“I can feel you staring,” Oscar muttered, looking over his shoulder with a breathless laugh, catching the lens of the phone one last time before he saw Daniel press a button and throw it aside.
Daniel gave him a tired little smile and leaned down to kiss up his spine, a silent apology for being so indulgent. “I like looking at you, baby,” Daniel offered as an excuse, speaking against his skin.
———
1:38 AM
Oscar: its ur lucky day
Oscar: [Video Attachment]
Oscar: enjoy my love
Daniel stared in surprise at the text he’d just received, bleary-eyed and groggy still. He was halfway across the world from Oscar, back in Australia while Oscar’s season started up again. Daniel couldn’t help but laugh, thinking it was ridiculous that Oscar had managed to find the alleged video he’d taken of himself.
1:42 AM
Daniel: How much of your camera roll did you have to dig through to find that??
Daniel: I’ll watch it later :P
Daniel: Good luck today ❤️
❀❀❀ Previous Days ❀❀❀
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canayams-art · 6 months
Note
yesyes i do think after lqq gets that shock out of his system first, he would want to confront mq about him and hear his side and an explanation. i don't believe lqq knowing that would put an irreparable dent into their relationship because at the end of the day, that suggestion never went through and mq never pursued to destroy yong'an after the war.
and OH MY GOD the way you put mq's side of the story here is soo true because i don't think he would focus too much on the one suggestion to end the war that never went through until it was brought up and threatened to ruin a relationship with someone he genuinely began to care for. because at the end, it was more of a desperate way to end the war that is being dragged on than any real malice towards yong'an. and i do think after both thinking about it himself and hearing what mq has to say on the matter, lqq would understand that as well.
the two of them healing together and learning to let go of the past pains regarding their kingdoms history 🥹 they make me so soft
this is tickling the very specific side of my brain as well and oh my god i genuinely hope i will have time to maybe turn this into a fic at some point because i absolutely ADOREE getting new rarepairs into my collection and this one is ticking almost all of the boxes at this point jsjsjsjdjdjd if i do end up writing something for them i will make sure to let you know dwdw
and mq getting the friendship he never believed he could have from xl in lqq is making me bawl, especially because there is less of an obvious power imbalance between them, since they would obviously start off as more or less of equals when they meet. which would make mq both more open with lqq in a way he never could be with xl
im curious tho, how do you think the rest of the heavens would see their relationship? because im sure there would be side comments about mq probably wanting to "serve another prince" and such thrown around :"))
Shaking your hands shaking your hands !!!
It really is making me think about the perspective immortality gives to a person when they’re able to be so far away from events of their own life because those events were maybe one or two (or more) lifetimes ago. Would a god be more forgiving than a man? It’s a fun space to play in.
AND YEAH SO MUCH POTENTIAL FOR AN EARNEST FRIENDSHIP ! Something mq lacks and lqq can so easily offer! I always think about the fact that lqq answers any private communication he receives regardless of the person’s status— he’s easy to talk to and I feel like he’s generally well liked among the other gods, even if they also think he’s naive. And maybe mq also thinks that way about him. Maybe that changes the more he gets to know lqq— similar to how he felt with xl. But like you said— less power imbalance!
I feel like the other gods would be confused to see mq making a genuine attempt at friendship with lqq— Tai Hua doesn’t seem like the type of person he would want to associate with. And he’s not even making snippy quips at him! His scoldings about how lqq is too lenient with his duties and too carefree don’t have the same cutting bite that the gods are used to seeing when mq engages with fx, for example, or even when he decides to lurk in the group communication arrays. I could see it raising eyebrows for sure.
And that’s not to say mq wouldn’t make remarks at lqq but I think lqq would probably brush them off unless they called into question his own moral standings. They feel like they would be able to tease and banter comfortably, even if mq is the main source of teasing and lqq is the main source of banter.
Anyway, circling back to the gods seeing this happen,,,, I do think the ones most likely to tease mq about finding another prince to serve would be the same gods Hua Cheng dueled and destroyed— mq seems pretty well-respected by most of the gods, even if he’s not liked by them. The gods he helped during xl’s first banishment seem like the types who would easily judge and comment. But once they’re gone I feel like maybe mq would feel a pressure come off of him. They got what they had coming in mq’s mind— they were vane fools for accepting hc’s terms. Their opinions of mq don’t affect him anymore.
On the other hand it feels like the aggressions would all be pointed at mq more than lqq cos lqq’s reaction— I assume— would be a straightforward confrontation that kicks up a stink among the gods. We’ve all seen how he acted in court when xl’s identity was revealed to him, and while this doesn’t feel as weighty as that situation, I don’t think lqq would stand to hear the way the gods talk about mq— whether he’s mad about mq’s war strategies or not. He WILL make it into something if he ever catches wind of the gossip. Mq wouldn’t roll over and take any of it either, but his way of fighting back isn’t as loud as lqq’s would be. Mq works behind the scenes while lqq takes to the stage lol
If you ever decide to write something for any of this please know you would have my life in the palm of your hands. I will never be the same. Lives will be changed !
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eldritch-spouse · 1 year
Note
HOLY SHIT
Loved the new fic with pegging Nebul😵‍💫🥴
Tho I did kinda feel bad for him 💀
Could you perhaps write a follow up to what happens the next day? Like how Nebul acts when he is sobered up and then having to face the entire group chat making fun of him😔😪
Maybe even later, him and Admin having a talk about what happened to him that caused him to use pearls?
(Also would Nebul be more wary or something like that around Admin considering,even tho it was a punishment, how wrong* and rape-y it was?💀)
*I know, bc they are monsters, that don't have morals and "wrong/right" but still, hope you get me🫠)
Anyway, have a good day/night, and I absolutely ADORE your fics, ur definitely one of my favourite acc on Tumblr 💜💜💜💜💜
[Thank ye anon! 🤍 I don't write follow ups much, if at all, but I can give this a general go. A couple of things here though:
1) There's no point in Nebul being wary of Admin. He knows very well what he signed up for when he took the deal to work under Krulu, just like any other of the workers there. If Admin walked into the room and demanded they bend over, they'd have to. And they know that's a possibility. They've consented to essentially living under Krulu's (and by extension your's) will, subtly. Will Nebul be colder afterwards? Probably. Does he justity her actions? No, not really. Does he understand they're part of what he signed up for? Yes;
2) While monsters inside The Clergy's Eye are all degenerates with a skewed sense of morality, if they have any at all, most monsters outside are part of civilized society and do have the same morals you'd find in a human. That's not to say feral monsters or evil ones don't exist, they sure do. Point is, everyone outside of TCE would call what went down between you and him rape. Clear as day.]
Part 2 of this fic.
TW: Mentions of past noncon, bullying(?), mentions of drug abuse.
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He expected as much.
Some part of Nebul knew the "forced into submission" part was never the real punishment.
Waking up with a horribly sore ass and hundreds of notifications as his coworkers saw him get viciously exploited was. The sounds of him begging, crying, screaming in sensation forever immortalized in video form.
Well played, Admin, well played.
He didn't think you'd actually manage to shake him. Which is idiotic of him to assume, given you have an infinitely more knowledgeable entity on your side. Perhaps he really did have to get "put in his place", as much as it disgusts him to say so. One can never get too comfortable when working under these circumstances, and Nebul supposes the intoxicating power of the building's atmosphere got in his head, allowed him to procrastinate, dismiss, decide for his superiors.
Needless to say, they're very thorough with their punishments. Not that Nebul expected less, he's not the only one subjected to such.
Nothing quite could have prepared him for the moments where he entered the break floor, greeted by the entire team cackling and quipping as shameful echoes of his cries rang across the entire floor. The wraith didn't expect any less bullying than what he got. Alas, it's something he'll have to wait out and process, which is simple enough. It takes a lot more to break his spirit than equally degenerate monsters joking and jabbing at his expense.
At least Patches was smart enough to give him a soft "A day in my shoes, huh?" kind of look. Everyone else made it a point to get on the undead's nerves. Not that they succeeded much.
The robot would randomly blast soundbites of his own wailing as he passed by the shopkeeper, sometimes clips of him mid-orgasm. It was apparently hilarious enough to send Vinnel tripping as he hacked and cackled. Grimbly would taunt him with the possibility of uploading this video to a porn site, though Belo was there to caution him that such violates the agreements of his "work contract". He'd still hear Vinnel mocking him from his stage, loud and clear imitations of his noises, and he swears Morell's boisterous laughter was deep enough to be heard on the highest floor of The Clergy. Gallon was slightly softer about his mocking, at least to Nebul's face. And Sybastian, bless that half-wild mimic, didn't really have much to say apart from odd snickering.
Still, the wraith is anything but content with this, especially when he has to consistently shoo away the most persistent of his coworkers.
" You know, you sounded really hot in that video. " Santi slurs, half-drapped across his counter. He's not here to buy anything, just to pester. As usual. " Hotter than usual. "
" Mhm. " Nebul keeps cool, jotting down stocks.
" I jerked off so hard to it. " Of course he did. The wraith wishes, now more than ever, that he could roll his nonexistent eyes. " Why don't you give me a shot? I bet I can make you feel just a good, better maybe. "
" Have you considered bothering literally anyone else? " The demon is a weird case, he's not being nefarious in his approach, merely spotting an opportunity to eat. Still, he should know better by now.
" Come on, don't be like that, love. " The incubus laments, biting his lower lip. " There's no need to be ashamed, it feels good to get stuffe- "
The elevator dings, his salvation. Or so Nebul thought, until you stepped out. Fuck.
" Santi, give him a break, will you? "
The demon spins around, eyes brightening as he all but glues himself to you. " Oh, OH! Is this round two? I want in, please? Can I at least watch? "
You snort, lightly pushing him away. " Once was enough. "
Santi makes a displeased sort of sigh, wandering further into the perverted isles to soothe himself while you approach the shopkeeper with the same friendly look you'd give him any other day, as if nothing transpired yesterday.
" Let's have a talk, Nebul. " You begin softly, hands behind your back.
He knows that wasn't a request.
" Of course, my lady. "
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The garden is calm, but then again, it's quite early. The clouds are heavy, a smog seems to settle in the air, moist and sickly.
He sits with you on a bench, a comfortable distance apart. Naturally, you note the awkward tilt of his hips.
" That did hurt, hm? " There's a proud glint to your eyes. And Nebul would feel offended, if he didn't know he would feel exactly the same way were he in your place.
" Naturally. You were harsh. "
Taking a sip of your coffee, a pause unfolds, calculated. " When am I not? Was there ever a time where I was soft? "
Fair enough, he supposes.
" I've threatened to drill into Fank-e's visor. I've dissolved parts of Gallon with corrosive substances. I've cut off and consumed chunks of Morell. There is nothing I won't do to make sure the rules of this establishment are respected. " You shrug. " Not that I particularly seek to do this, I prefer to reward you. "
" True. " Nebul gives you a look, silently asking why he was called here, to which you nod.
" Sybastian. "
He's confused for a moment, then the bench next to yours seems to jump, two yellow eyes sprouting from a leg. You don't even deign to stare at the monster, which is amusing to the undead.
" I know that's you. Bugger off for a bit. "
Sure enough, said bench quickly deforms into the tall mimic, and he skitters away on all fours, defeated.
" Small talk is not our modus operandi. " You start, gathering the wraith's attention. " Why do you use pearls? "
Why does he use pearls? It's something Nebul himself has pondered on. There's no clear answer, if he had one, he might have already dropped the habit. He's not sure what to tell you, though it's pleasantly surprising that you'd care. He supposes that, technically, you have to care, the health of your workers is important. But the wraith understands you also spare fondness for him, such is felt through your bond.
" You can talk to us, it'll die here. "
" I'm aware. "
" Take your time. "
And he does. Figuring there's no point dodging the topic. It's not as if he's ashamed of his actions.
" For as long as I've been aware of myself, I've felt a craving I could never satiate. " Nebul stares off. " This isn't uncommon for undead, as we all spawn from the unresolved turmoils of our living husks. Yet, at the time, I believed I was merely hungry. So I ate until I got sick, trying to cure this mystery ailment. "
You make a small noise of acknowledgement.
" The moment I discovered pearls is one I can't recall. But they... They filled me, Admin. They're giving me a taste of something I lost. Somehow. "
He feels vulnerable, Nebul doesn't like how much it's starting to hurt to talk about this.
" Something you lost when you were alive. " Your stare is pensive and intrusive, a taste of his own medicine, he supposes.
" I was never alive. Whoever that human was, that's not me. " The shopkeeper clarifies, finding himself a touch too reactive, defensive.
" Yes. My point still stands however, you're carrying someone else's burden and you're coping with it through psychostimulants. "
Brutal honesty, something he can appreciate in you. His mood still drops further. It's funny, Nebul feels worse now than he did when he woke up earlier today and realized what happened.
" That's not unheard of. Patches- "
" Patches carries his own sins on his back. " You interject. " He's had glimpses onto his past and he chooses not to remember more than he must. " Fingers cross on your lap, eyes glazing. He knows that look, Krulu's speaking to you. " You know nothing. You need closure. "
Nebul freezes. This type of powerlessness, of vulnerability, is much worse than getting turned into a submissive mess. He's realizing he'd rather bend over for you again than continue this conversation.
" Admin, I... "
" You need healing. You're not someone who hides from your problems, you will fix them, this is an order. " Your hand meets his clawed one, the grip firm. Through it, Nebul senses concern, a desire to help and comfort.
It cracks at him, hard. Harder than it should. He shakes minutely.
" I feel so empty. It doesn't go away, it never goes away. It's always so cold. I have no idea what he did, to make me this way, but it's unbearable. " The monster has to pause, catching himself before he could choke. It's so very foreign to let himself be open. " In all honesty, I don't think I want to know why I'm so empty. "
You sigh, stroking over his knuckles and nodding to yourself. " It's a process. I think it would benefit you in the long run. You need to let us know when you're ready to explore that. "
Nebul makes an ambivalent head gesture, deeply uncomfortable.
When you rise, he stays placid.
" Come on, let's watch Pebble's flying lesson with Belo. Last time he nearly broke the fountain, you know? "
That does make him chuckle quietly.
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selunesdreams · 1 month
Text
Chapter 2: A Friend Who'll Tease Is Better
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Astarion wakes in the dark, his long limbs stretching as the shadows of the evening rise once more. Retrieving the same pair of trousers he had tossed aside the night before, he rummages through a trunk by his bedside, searching for a suitable shirt.
Once dressed, he pads down the cobwebbed staircase from his attic dwelling, past Karlach and Minthara’s room. A voyeuristic grin forms on his face as he hears the sounds echoing from within. Reaching the den, he finds Gale and Shadowheart reading opposite one another. Hearing his footsteps, Shadowheart raises her head. 
“Off to pay a visit to your little Selûnite?”
Astarion shoots an irritated look at Gale. “You told her? While I have no choice but to hole up in the attic, unable to defend myself, you’re sharing the details of my life like idle daytime gossip?” Shadowheart snorts while Gale shrugs in response, not looking up from his reading.
“Someday when we find a way for you to be in the sun, Astarion, I’ll be sure to keep my gossiping restricted to your waking hours.”
Astarion scoffs, although there is a painful tug at his stomach. The sensation of the sun’s warmth against his skin, once vivid in his memory, had started to slip away. For two centuries he lived in pure hell, utter darkness, and that few weeks of reprieve the tadpole granted him from his condition reminded him too much of what he’d been missing. Now, with his life devoid of sunlight once again, he’d thought of little else during his time in Waterdeep. That is until he finally found something different to focus his ambitions on.
Maybe he needed an objective to keep himself occupied. Maybe this is what his entire immortal experience would be: unrelenting, futile pursuit. 
Astarion doesn’t respond to Gale’s quip as he slips out the door and into the night. Though he knows there are better ways to spend his time, he resolves to return to his newfound fascination. After two centuries of tracking and charming people for Cazador, it appears old habits die hard. Except tonight, it’s his own curiosity he seeks to satisfy.
He pauses on the road as he hears the static of the waves crashing against the docks. As he scans the horizon, he can just barely make out the outline of a woman walking near the shore. 
“Too easy,” he says to himself, recognizing Celeste. She’s dressed in a loose silk gown, the silvery strands of her hair catching the moonlight as she wanders. Astarion boots sift through the sand, avoiding dead fish and trash. Waterdeep surpasses Baldur’s Gate in terms of charm and beauty, but unfortunately, the Dock Ward doesn’t offer much improvement over the lower city. As Astarion approaches Celeste, he tries to disguise his interest with an expression of being lost in thought. As his figure looms over her, he finally speaks.
“Good evening. Enjoying the ambiance?”
With a slight startle, Celeste swiftly regains her composure and spins around to face him. “You.” she says, somewhere between surprised and irritated. Astarion’s eyes twinkle with mischief. 
“It seems we keep finding each other,” he says in a sultry tone. 
“Or, you just seem to keep turning up wherever I am…” she regards him suspiciously.
Astarion feigns hurt. “Is my presence such a nuisance?” he asks, his voice tinged with a hint of amusement. “It’s only natural I’d seek you out after our encounter in the library. I’m already finding myself quite smitten.” He leans in as his lips curve into a wicked smile. 
“Smitten?” Celeste laughs. “You barely know a thing about me.”
Astarion shrugs. “I know more than you think. I’ve only just finished reading a very interesting volume in Gale’s possession. The Lost Children of the Moon, quite an illuminating read.” Celeste recoils, familiar with the book. She’d made efforts to stow away copies from the public she’d come across at university or in the library archives, but did not know one had been in Gale’s possession. Then again…of course.
“Fucking Mystra.” she mutters. Astarion chuckles. 
“Fucking Mystra, indeed. Gale told me about you as well.” Astarion pauses, amused. “Although, even without guidance, I would have had my suspicions,” he says. Celeste looks displeased.
“I somehow doubt that. You seemed just about as fucking clueless as could be last night. But I’m glad Gale could fill you in on my business.” 
“Your secret is safe with me, darling, so long as mine is safe with you.” Astarion says, unable to hold back a taunting smirk. “Are you cross with Gale?” Celeste gives a resigned sigh. 
“I respect him. He’s a talented wizard, and he’s survived a great deal. Truthfully, I barely knew him. It’s unfortunate what Mystra put him through.” She watches the relentless ebb and flow of the water, submerging the sands in frothy white foam before receding into the sea again.
“I heard about his little crush on you. What an ill side-effect of possessing such otherworldly beauty.” Astarion cocks his head. Celeste scoffs and he finds himself amused by her adverse reactions to his flattery. He is careful to find a balance between invading her space and making her just uncomfortable enough that he retains the upper hand in the conversation.
He leans in. “You don’t seem very pleased by my words.” 
Celeste takes a pointed step backwards. “Let’s just…keep it friendly, alright?” As she turns back towards the city, Astarion follows, his steps silent as he plunges his hands into his pockets.
“Vampires don’t do friendly all that well, darling.” She doesn’t turn to look at him and keeps walking.
“I can tell from the incessant flirting.”
“Ah, come now, you cannot deny you find my flattery…endearing.” he responds in a husky voice. “Come now, tell me, how many men have you had fluttering after you over the years? I mean, besides Gale and his…practiced tongue.” Astarion says in a mocking tone, reflecting on a cringe-inducing description he once overheard Gale himself use. 
“That’s quite the personal question, and an answer I’m not sure you deserve.” 
“Forgive me. I’m curious, dear. But if that’s too personal, then tell me, when was the last time someone caught your attention?” he asks, curiosity overcoming his natural reticence. Celeste wordlessly makes her way from the beach onto the cobblestone streets.
Astarion considers her silence for a moment before pressing more. “Don’t make me beg, darling. I want to get to know you.” 
“You seem…intelligent, if not calculating. You’re layered, cultured, attractive, recently heroic... shouldn’t there be a million other options at any of the taverns in this city? Why are you following me around?”
“Yes, yes, please, continue to stroke my ego in such a manner.” He replies with an exaggerated roll of his eyes. “I do so adore being praised.” She can tell he’s enjoying the banter, but something got under his skin.
“Have I struck a nerve?” she asks, grinning. Astarion sighs. His earlier facade has melted away, and he has become noticeably more contemplative. 
“Perhaps I don’t want to be pursued by the patrons of the Blushing Nymph or the Sleeping Snake. And perhaps I don’t want to live up to the pressure of people thinking I’m some sort of heroic exemplar of goodness.”
Celeste regards him with a sad look. “Do you dread what people would expect from you? Are you afraid that they would reduce you only to what you can offer them?”
Astarion straightens himself a bit. “Where has serving others ever gotten me? Condemned to centuries of enslavement to an egotistical and sadistic vampire who only ever saw me as a means to an end?” A solemn expression settles on his face, casting a shadow over his features. “I have done nothing of consequence and lost years of potential.” 
Silence hangs between them for a moment before Celeste speaks. 
“So, what do you intend to do about it now?”
“You mean, besides continuing to fill my mind with pointless knowledge and chasing meaningless exchanges of passion?” Astarion can feel himself becoming a bit heated, feeling the weight of his history upon him. “I can’t say I have any sort of plan. My entire existence feels like one large misstep. I don’t know what could undo so many wasted years and atrocities done in the name of someone else.” He looks at the ground, avoiding her gaze.
Celeste halts her steps. “I don’t think there’s undoing, just moving on. Perhaps, redemption.”
Astarion scoffs. “Redemption? I’m not interested in redemption.” He spits out the word as if it burns his tongue.
Celeste tries to be empathetic. “Yet you seem to harbor some guilt.” Astarion gives her a dangerous look, and she eases off the subject. She glances at the library in the distance. “You know, I can blow off work tonight. Maybe I would like to get to know you better.”
Astarion’s expression brightens. Her proposition restores some of his confidence, and he gestures grandly in front of him. 
“I thought you’d never ask. Perhaps we should visit the Blushing Nymph, make up for some of those lost years and do something worth remembering?” he suggests in a low voice.
“I think the Yawning Portal will do just fine.” She changes directions towards the nearby inn and Astarion takes a few quick steps to catch up to her. 
“Come now, you can’t possibly keep up that serious and reserved act the entire time. We both know it’s a matter of time before you tire yourself of keeping such a distance…” he gently pulls at her arm, turning her to face him. “I cannot help but be enticingly curious about exactly what sort of trouble you’re hiding,” he says seductively.
“Don’t ruin the moment with meaningless flirting, Astarion.” She tugs her arm away. Astarion gives a smug half-smile and follows her down the street to the tavern. Her disposition intrigues him. He’ll enjoy the challenge of trying to get her to open up.
Once inside, Astarion orders a bottle of Ithbank and the two settle into a corner table next to one another. The wine, while not exceptional, diffuses the tension and softens Celeste’s demeanor. As the hours pass, they empty a couple of bottles while he shares the details of his year, his eclectic group of travel companions, and their fight against the Absolute. Astarion, being a vampire, has a strong tolerance for liquor, but his Moonborn companion seems to struggle to keep up. Not missing a beat, he seizes the opportunity to edge closer to her, casually draping an arm around her, his fingers playfully caressing her exposed shoulder. 
“Careful, dear, one more glass and your tongue may slip. How unfortunate that you might ruin this entertaining little game of cat and mouse we’ve found ourselves in,” he says to her, leaning in close. “So many things you could accidentally reveal, how fun it would be to hear them…” he purrs in her ear. 
She sighs, the Ithbank wearing down her defenses. “What is it you want to know?”
“Everything. You have become quite the enigma, after all. Do you ever let anyone in?” 
Celeste groans, annoyed. “There was a harper in Baldur’s Gate.” 
“Intriguing. A harper…one of Jaheira’s perhaps? So you like the hero types?” Astarion teases.  
“You know Jaheira?” she asks, surprised. 
“We have…history.”
 Celeste raises an eyebrow and Astarion scowls. “Not that kind of history.”
Celeste nods. “Jaheira was my family for a long time.” Astarion takes note to ask more about Celeste and Jaheira later, before pressing further on his previous line of questioning. 
“So what ended this…entanglement of yours? Did things simply not work out, or did someone or something intervene?”
“I’ve had no other choice but to guess that he got himself killed.” Celeste responds bluntly. “He left one day and never returned. I stopped looking after a year passed and came back to Waterdeep.”
“Did you know him long? Love him?” Astarion asks, a bit more seriously. 
“I knew him for a few years. I suppose he’s what you’d call my ‘first love’, though it’s been long enough now that I know better than to get swept up in the idea of it, I doubt it would have worked out even if he had returned.” Astarion’s eyes narrow at the thought, but he cannot hide his interest. He leans in slightly over the table.
“Do tell. What was it about him? Was it his bravery? His confidence? Wit? What exactly caused you to fall for him? What broke Celeste’s impenetrable walls of indifference?”
“He was…” her voice trails off as she thinks. “Daniel was confident. Hard working. Brave. Cocky and sarcastic…like you. Had a mean streak. But there was a softness underneath.” Astarion cannot suppress a chuckle at her answer. 
“And that was all? Kindness? Basic heroics? I must apologize for expecting something grander, given that he broke through your icy demeanor.”
She pours herself another glass of wine as she speaks. “Leave it to you to be envious of a dead man.”
“Darling, I am a dead man. Although I seem to be holding up better than your dearly departed.” He sips at his wine and sets it down slowly, fingers tracing the rim absentmindedly. “So, were there others?” Astarion looks up at her through lowered eyelids.
She takes a drink and sighs, looking up at the ceiling for a moment. “There was Gale, as you already know. Just a brief, one-off sort of thing. Nothing serious or lasting. I’ve learned my lesson on long-term entanglements.”
“So you’ve left a trail of abandoned lovers in your wake. How cruel. But at least we know you’re experienced.” Astarion teases. Celeste’s head is too foggy to come up with a response as his arm moves from the back of her chair to her shoulders. He leans in, lips brushing against her ear. “Why not give me a chance to help you forget them all, pet? I could make your skin quiver with desire, having you begging me to take you. I’m very persistent, you know.” 
Celeste’s body tenses up, her senses heightened as a warm, sensual feeling washes over her, unable to resist its allure as the wine blurs her inhibitions. Astarion reaches his hand down, running it against the center of her back, letting his fingers curl around her waist. His gaze lingers on her collarbone for a moment. “I think your guard is already weak. Just a bit more pressure and I’ll have you a begging, whimpering mess…”
“Stop.” she says, her voice just above a whisper as she looks around the tavern. Nobody seems to pay them much mind at all. 
Astarion quickly removes his hands from her with feigned frustration. “Alright, alright.” he sighs. “You certainly are a challenge. How am I supposed to find your soft spot if you keep me at bay?”
“If you focused more on getting to know me rather than following some practiced pattern of seduction, you may have more luck.” Celeste snaps. Astarion can’t help but be amused, and he tries to conceal a smile by sipping his drink. 
“And if I did get to know you,” he lowers his voice again, “what would I find? Would your walls truly weaken and collapse if I genuinely put in the effort?”
“Well, isn’t that the point? Seeing me as a person rather than some conquest?” she asks him, a raw edge to her voice.
“Alright, let’s play by your rules for a bit. You have my word. I’ll lay off the seduction. I will endeavor to be a perfect gentleman.” He shifts back in his seat, leaning away from her. Her posture relaxes some, but her head feels blurrier than ever. 
“Thank you.” She says, rubbing her temple. Astarion looks over her carefully. 
“Surely you have questions for me? Ask me anything.” Astarion insists, leaning back as he crosses one leg over the other. He smiles and drapes one arm over the back of his chair as the other holds his wine goblet out to the side. Celeste contemplates for a moment.
“Do you have a family? What happened to your parents?” she asks Astarion, who appears caught off guard by the question. He gathers himself and his brow furrows. This was supposed to be a flirtatious game, a delicate series of exchanges to lead to…well, hopefully the next morning.
“Within reason.” He takes a drink of wine with a disgruntled expression. Celeste locks eyes with him, her stare unwavering, silently demanding a response. 
“Fine.” he relents, sighing dramatically. He pauses for a moment, swirling his wine in the goblet. “My parents are dead.” What else could he say?
“My sympathies.” He’s casually prodded at her personal life enough that she doesn’t feel a shred of guilt for making him uncomfortable. 
“Did you ever…check on them when you were a vampire? Did they look for you?” she presses. 
Astarion clears his throat. “I presume they looked for me, but I didn’t want to burden them with what I’d become. Didn’t want to give Cazador more leverage to use against me or punish me with. They are elves, and we notoriously live quite a long time, even without having to become a vampire spawn. I suppose there’s a chance they’re still alive, out there somewhere, but I prefer to leave my mortal life…behind.” His tone is quiet, contrasted by his usual arrogance. “And your family? They perished in that Sharran attack, correct?” he asks, as if firing back. 
“Yes.” She answers. Astarion nods, expression a bit more solemn.
“I suppose we share some sorrows in common.” 
“I suppose so.” What was meant to be an entertaining game of back and forth had become quite sobering, and neither of them knew how to continue. Astarion considered asking another, more lighthearted question to break the tension, but suspected there was a better way to address the sudden somber mood. 
“How long has it been since you lost your family?” he asks Celeste. 
“About twenty years.”
“Twenty years…” Astarion echos. “And how old are you? You don’t look like you’re edging anywhere near forty, but Gale had mentioned Moonborn stop aging in their late twenties.”
“I’ve been alive for 36 years, I’ve physically been 28 for the last eight years, and I’ll remain that way until I die,” she says. 
“Forever young.” Astarion says bitterly. 
“Shouldn’t be anything new to you,” Celeste chimes back. “Though I guess the young part would be a bit of a stretch…” she teases, reaching out towards his face, her forefinger resting under his chin as her thumb brushes the crease of his mouth. He scowls at her, removing her hand but maintaining a controlled gentleness in his touch as he does so. Celeste laughs and his annoyance diffuses. It’s an effortless sound, and it takes him by surprise.
“You said…Cazador was your master. That you killed him?” Celeste asks, slightly startling Astarion by the abrupt change in subject. 
“Cazador…was the most cruel being I have ever had the displeasure of encountering. He forced me to lure men and women back to him, to be fed upon and trapped in filthy cages — without my knowledge, to later be sacrificed. He’d torture me, punishment for whatever perceived shortcoming or defiance I’d commit. I’d spend many nights - once an entire year - in total solitude, with only the sound of my own cries in an empty tomb. Would you like me to proceed?” he asks, an edge developing in his voice.
Celeste shudders. “You don’t have to…”
“One particular day, Cazador attempted to conduct a ritual, a profane ascension rite, to achieve a means of total power. To become the most powerful vampire in existence.” Astarion leans closer. “But I’d been conveniently lost.” He gestures to mimic a cloud of dust. “And when I interrupted his ritual, I killed him. I nearly overtook the ritual for myself, but…” His voice trails off. “Gale convinced me to stop. That I would be doomed to become exactly what I hated…become him, if I did so. So instead, I released his prisoners, thousands of vampires, and my six spawn siblings, into the Underdark.” Celeste gapes at him.
“I…had no idea.” 
“Oh, we aren’t done here, my dear,” Astarion stands, offering his hand, “there’s something I’d like to show you.” he says. She reaches out tentatively, and he abruptly pulls her after him. 
“Where are we going?” She begins to regret the extra glass of Ithbank as she stumbles up the stairs.
“I want to show you a parting gift Cazador left me.” Astarion’s grip is firm as he leads her towards one of the inn’s guest rooms. He knocks twice and then opens the door to a couple of half naked elves in bed together. Astarion doesn’t even react as they leap from the mattress, startled, one of them holding a blanket against herself. 
“Out!” Astarion barks, and neither of them question him, grabbing their clothes and hurrying into the hall. He pulls Celeste inside the candlelit room and shuts the door, ignoring her mortified expression. Before she can say anything, Astarion draws a deep breath, rolling his head to the side with a sigh as he unbuttons his shirt. 
Celeste watches, her face flushing, as Astarion carefully slips his shirt off, exposing the pale expanse of his torso. He stands still for a moment, regarding her. 
“Finally,” his voice is husky, “a bit of color against that pallor.” A grin tugs at the corner of his mouth. He reaches out and delicately guides her hand to rest against his waist, savoring the sensation of her fingers gliding against him as he gives her a view of his back. 
The scars carved into his skin are slightly obscured by the candlelight, but as Celeste’s vision adjusts, she can see them form a pattern of foreign text in a sort of sinister wheel. “Gods…” she says, taking a step forward, “what a monster.”
“I once thought they were poems.” Astarion says with disgust. Celeste doesn’t recoil, instead she slides her fingers to his shoulder, where a jagged part of a scar begins. A chill runs down Astarion’s spine as she caresses his skin. He can feel their delicate pressure, and although he’s uncomfortable, he resists the urge to pull away. There’s something satisfying in her touch.
“I appreciate your vulnerability. Your past is safe with me,” she says softly, pulling her hand away. Astarion turns around and regards her quietly, his heart softening a bit. He’s not acquainted with vulnerability, nor has he had many genuine connections in his long life. Her compassion is a foreign gesture, but deeply appreciated. 
“This wasn’t for sympathy, you know,” he says coldly, “just consider it a bit of show and tell,” he adds with a forced grin.
“You don’t have to dismiss a genuine moment between us as sympathy.” Astarion’s throat tightens, and he feels an unexpected flutter in his stomach. Suddenly, he steps forward, taking her hands in his, as though compelled. It’s a bold move, but his attraction to her is overwhelming, and the effects of the wine have lowered his inhibitions a bit. 
Celeste pulls away, turning around quickly and stumbling. Astarion reaches out to steady her.
“Careful darling…” he says, holding her with both hands.
“I think…maybe I need to go home.” She says. Astarion’s expression softens.
“Of course. Let’s get you to bed.” He leads her out the door and down the stairs. In the main room of the tavern, the now-clothed elf couple angrily accost the barkeep. One of them points to Astarion as he and Celeste walk towards the door and Astarion quickly draws an arm around Celeste, swiftly guiding her out onto the cobblestone street with him.
“So,” she says, after they’ve walked for a few minutes, his arm still draped around her shoulders, “since you’re so interested in my love life, why don’t you tell me about yours?” 
“My love life?” Astarion pulls his arm back from around her and runs his fingers through his hair. “I’ve spent the last two centuries with Cazador. There’s not much to discuss.” 
“You never fell in love?” she asks, looking over at him. The alcohol has begun to wear off, leaving her with the start of what promises to be an awful headache. 
“When I was Cazador’s captive?” he shakes his head. “No. There was no time for anything but survival.”
“Not even before you were a vampire?”
“That was centuries ago. Mostly a long string of one-night stands.” Astarion feels the corners of his mouth curl upwards. 
“How many people have you bedded?” she asks, returning his playfulness. 
“Bedded? Plenty. Thousands…I’ve lost count.”
“You didn’t care for any of them?” 
“Did I care for them?” Astarion’s laugh is bitter. “Not particularly. There were some I almost pitied…” his voice trails off for a moment before he continues. “The only choice I had was to convince myself it wasn’t so bad. To play Cazador’s game. I learned what it was to survive.” Astarion’s jaw clenches. “For a long time, the only way I knew how to survive was to be…apathetic.”
“Have you been with anyone since you escaped Cazador? Since you killed him?” Celeste asks.
“I’ve…considered it. For a time I wasn’t interested at all, but after I killed Cazador…I became interested again, but not interested enough in anyone in particular.” 
“You seem to be quite interested in me.” The words fall out of Celeste’s mouth before she can stop them. Astarion pauses and gently grabs her by the shoulders, turning her towards him. He steps closer, tilting her chin up.
“My dear. I want you in ways that should terrify you.”
“Does it terrify you?” she dares to ask as she stands there, frozen. He drops her chin, flinching slightly in surprise. 
He forces himself to laugh. “No.”
“I think you need a friend, not a lover, Astarion.”
“Why not both?” he asks, flashing a devilish grin before his face becomes serious again. He sighs. “Every concept of love has been twisted into some perverse mockery by Cazador in an attempt to control me.” his hand reaches out, drifting to the small of her back as he pulls her closer. “Perhaps I’d like to make my own rules. Figure it out as I go.” 
His other hand slowly works its way up her jaw, his thumb resting against her bottom lip. “We can call this friendship, if that’s what you prefer…” he growls, his lips catching her own. She lets out a sound of protest but returns the kiss for a moment, completely lost in it, then, with a staggering realization, pushes him off her. He stumbles back in frustration, unsure of what to do. 
She draws in a deep breath. “Friends,” she says, wiping her mouth. “For now.” Astarion takes a step forward.
“For now?” He asks in a provocative tone. 
“Goodnight, Astarion.” Suddenly vexed, she turns towards home and leaves him bewildered and alone in the middle of the road. 
“I’ll, ah…find you tomorrow?” he calls after her, his voice hanging between playful and confused. He glances down at his hands as he wrings them in a futile attempt to displace the slight wound to his ego. Celeste responds in a crude gesture that she throws over her shoulder without looking back.
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mishibashimori · 1 year
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Two Of Us || Cecil Stedman x Reader || Chapter 2 (Revised Version)
Synopsis: You are an alien who crash landed onto Earth. You have no name, and no more home to go back to. The Guardians of the Globe have rescued you and brought you to get intensive care under the great Cecil Stedman. In helping out your new home, Earth, will you develop a relationship with the coldest man you know?
General Info: AFAB Gender Neutral Reader, Cecil is Younger in the Beginning and it Will Lead to Current Events, Reader is a Bubbly Optimist, Reader Description is Intentionally Vague so You can Imagine the Alien Species They Are However You’d Like
TW: Verbal and Physical Past Abuse, Failed Pregnancy Mentions, Depression, Self Depreciation, Cannon Typical Violence, Eventual Sexual Content
Specific Chapter TW: (Specifically at the End in a Nightmare) Physical Child Abuse, Failed Pregnancy Alluded To, Traumatic Dream Sequence
—————————
Your healing process was going very well. When Cecil told you he had the best medical staff in the world, he definitely wasn’t lying. The doctors and nurses were very kind, helping you every step of the way, most times literally. You’ve been in physical therapy for about six weeks after healing for a few months, and the amount of support you’ve received is incredible. The wires were out of your jaw now, too, and it had healed up very well. It felt incredibly wonderful to be able to speak again, and taste Earth food— which was admittedly delicious.
Over the months The Guardians of the Globe would come to visit often and cheer you on. War Woman, who you learned is named Holly, started to warm up to you, showing you different exercises that would be good for your certain situation. Apparently she’s been in your boat quite a few times despite being a pretty powerful hero. It was definitely comforting to hear. Dark Wing had similar experiences, too, but he was a bit more reserved. You didn’t mind though, he didn’t have to be social.
Alana, Immortal, and Samson never had a shortage of stories or funny quips, making the whole ordeal a lot more entertaining, certainly. The amount of times you accidentally hurt yourself during PT by laughing too hard were more than you’d like to admit. Red Rush, or Josef, joined in from time to time too, but he was usually busy with other things. It was a shame, because he was quite entertaining when he wanted to be.
The chats with Martian and Aquarus were definitely something you found solace in. Having fellow aliens - one literally, the other more metaphorically - made you feel more welcome in the organization. It helped that they were very understanding of your reservations and anxieties about being in a whole different environment, as they had gone through it themselves.
Even Cecil would drop in from time to time, if just for a moment. Usually his conversations consisted of work, and what the plan was going forward, but there were a few brief, nice moments where the words between you two were genuine fun. You were talking to him now while trying to balance on your wobbly legs, a walker clutched in your hands for support.
“I can’t believe Jell-O,” you chirped, making your way slowly to one side of the room, “it’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”
Cecil was staring at a tablet, tapping away at it busily. He glanced over at you, a slightly amused expression on his face, “you should try ice cream.”
“Do you have some here?” You asked excitedly.
“No, not in the hospital.” Cecil chuckled, “but you can get some tomorrow.”
You tilted your head in confusion, pausing your exercise to look at him, “why tomorrow?”
“You’ll be getting your own room. No more hospital bed.”
“Wow! Really? That’s so kind of— Whoa!” You leaned forward too far in your excitement, your hands slipping from the walker. It clattered to the floor as you fell forward. Cecil moved to catch you, but you caught yourself, flailing your arms frantically in a circle to regain balance. Once fully upright, you gave a small laugh. “I’m okay.” You leaned down carefully to grab the walker but Cecil beat you to it, setting it upright for you to lean on. Looking up at him, you gave a smile. “Thank you.”
He stepped back a few paces and cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable by the sudden closeness. “No problem.” The tablet in Cecil’s hand gave a frantic beeping, catching his attention. He gave a sigh and glanced at you. “I have to go. Me or one of my men will show you to your room tomorrow.”
“I hope it’s you.” You stated, unfazed by Cecil’s startled expression. “I like talking to you.” You’ve noticed humans aren’t as straightforward as they should be, especially with feelings. Unlike your species, they like to dance around subjects, or say one thing and inadvertently mean something completely different. It gave you a headache.
Cecil gave an awkward smile, and you could see his cheeks flush a bit. A sign of human embarrassment, you learned. “You really wear your thoughts on your sleeve, don’t you?”
“But I’m not wearing sleeves.” You responded, puzzled. This only made him laugh, a genuine one you hadn’t heard from him before. “You’re in a good mood today. I’m glad.”
“Yeah, well,” Cecil rubbed the back of his neck, “it’s uh, it’s been a good day.” His eyes sparkled a bit as he gazed at you. A rush of delight ran down your spine. All you could think of was how blue his eyes are.
Seemingly snapping out of a daze, Cecil turned and walked quickly towards the door, looking back briefly to say a short goodbye before disappearing. You stared after him for a moment, smiling, before continuing with your walking exercises.
“It’s huge!” You exclaimed, shuffling into your new home, cane in hand.
“That’s what she said.” Alana jeered, making Cecil roll his eyes. She had decided to come with and check out your new living space, too, after hearing you talk about it when she came to visit the day before.
Your new living arrangements was a rather large room in GDA headquarters, about as big as a full house and complete with a bathroom, kitchen, and bedroom. It was pretty barren though, save for the essentials, and a small bundle of presents on the dining room table. Your eyes lit up and you immediately wobbled over to them.
“Wow, you guys,” you picked one up. It was blue and from the Immortal, with yellow ribbon tied sloppily at the top. Tears welled up in your eyes, threatening to spill over. “I don’t know what to say. I haven’t done anything but cause you trouble, and you’ve been so kind to me.”
“Oh, please,” Alana came up to you, placing a hand on your shoulder, “I’ve known the Guardians for years. I’ve known you only six months and you’re already my best friend.” She gave you a small squeeze. “You’re no trouble at all.”
“We had a choice to bring you in or leave you bleeding, and we chose you,” Cecil chimed in, “don’t be so hard on yourself. You can pay us back by getting better.” He put his hands in his pockets and leaned against a wall, giving you a smile. “Plus, I don’t do so good when people cry so— don’t.” You gave both of them a nod, too choked up for words.
After opening up the gifts, your new place felt more like a home. All of them were from the Guardians: decorations they thought you’d like or appliances you’d need. You had no idea what a panini maker was but apparently Josef really thought it was important, according to his card.
You sat with Alana and Cecil for a while, chatting about different things. It was calm, nice, something you hadn’t had in a long time. Your thoughts drifted to your previous life, to the turmoil, and to how far away it seemed now. It felt almost unreal how good everything seemed to be going, and how kind these people you met were in comparison. A satisfied sigh slipped through your lips and you leaned back in your chair. Suddenly a beeping rang through the room, and both Alana and Cecil looked at their watches.
“Oh shoot, gotta go,” Alana said, getting up and slipping her green stone into her mouth. “Emergency. I’ll talk to you later.” Morphing into her Green Ghost form, she flew towards the door and opened it, rushing to leave the building.
Cecil stood too, walking over to your new fridge. “I better go too, but first,” he opened the freezer, pulling out a carton of ice cream, “I was hoping we could all share, but work calls, as always.” He set the carton down on the table and turned to walk out the door.
“Wait!” You called, unable to control your sudden outburst. Cecil looked back. “Can I help? Or at least come along?” He thought for a moment, considering your words, before shaking his head no.
“Not yet. You will, I promise, but for now just sit tight.” With that he disappeared in a flash of light. Startled, you blinked away the sudden brightness that just assaulted your eyes. That certainly had never happened before. Must be an Earth thing.
With a frustrated sigh you put the ice cream back in the freezer and went to go lay down, drained from all the walking you did today. You were happy with your progress, but at times it seemed to be going so slow. You wanted to help, to be included. It didn’t feel good to be left behind, especially if there was something you could do. It got lonely.
Healing from injuries had been no stranger to you, but before now you had only dealt with flesh wounds, never something to do with bones. It was a whole new experience, and a long, tiring one. Once comfortable in your bed, covers up to your chin, it wasn’t long before your eyelids had grown heavy, and you drifted into a nightmare-filled sleep.
You’d had this one many times before. It was dark, and the iron tang of blood filled your nose. Heart racing, you whip your head around, frantically looking for anything in the darkness. Then, you see him. A tall, lean man with long, beautiful golden hair. He wore vibrant orange and red robes, and a crown the color of the flesh of grapefruit sat atop his head. He’s bathed in a beam of light, holding a young boy by the throat. The boy is screaming, gargling out urgently for help and thrashing his limbs in a futile escape attempt. There are deep gashes in the boy’s legs, arms, and torso, leaking streams of red that pool onto the black floor.
The man stares at you, narrowing his eyes maliciously. “Come here, pet.” He growls, shaking the young boy violently. “Come save him. Maybe your parental instinct will kick in if you see a child in agony.”
Your eyes grow hot and your throat tight as you try to fight your way towards the wailing boy, but some invisible force holds you in place. “Take me!” You screech. “Please, let him go and take me! I’m so sorry! I’ll try harder! It’ll work this time!”
Suddenly, you’re falling. Your heart leaps into your throat as you plummet down into a cold, dark abyss. Invisible knives slice into your side and carve up your face, sending blood spatter upward in a red shower. Weariness dragged at your bones, a soul sucking dread accompanying it. You were dying. Oh, god, you were dying.
“Help.” You breathe out, a pitiful noise in a wide expanse of nothing. “Help.” Your eyes began to close. The fight left your muscles. There was silence.
Then, your eyes shot open.
—————
Disclaimer:
I try to be as accurate as possible to the source material for this fan fiction, but at times I’ll get it wrong. The timelines for the Guardians of the Globe as well as Cecil are not as accurate as they should be but for the sake of wanting to have all the characters in here I fudged it. Just know that I understand not everything is accurate but let’s just try to have a good time regardless!
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constantvariations · 1 year
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Rwby V9C2. This time i decided to put all my thoughts down as i watched the episode (i know most folks do this as a massive series of reblogs. No thanks lol)
You know its gonna be a gr8 episode when the very first line is a disingenuous trope aware quip. No wonder at the new world, no anxiety about how to get home. Nope! Just... bland disinterest. Did Joss Whedon join crwby?
I hate Little so goddamn much. Idk if yall read that one teaboot post where they talk about their hatred of Olaf from Frozen but I am reaching that level of irrational fury
As much as I like the uses of sweat drops and pop animation and frustration speech bubbles because they're delightful anime visual tropes... it's wayyy to late to be introducing those now. This would be like adding farting unicorns to The Walking Dead after half the cast was eaten. Again. Once more, I am asking what the fuck the tone is supposed to be here
Why is it called the Ever After? Wonderland rolls off the tongue way better and makes more sense for the name of a new world/dimension/whatever
So glad to be getting the exposition on the girl who fell through the world now instead of any organic weaving into dialogue prior. I love getting my information shoved down my throat all at once
I do actually like them discussing the tale. Different takeaways from the same story are always fun. Wish it could've lasted longer, I really want more conversations between these guys that aren't always directly about the plot
Okay, Weiss's doubts are good to hear. Sound like a lot of the stuff we've been saying, which may or may not be on purpose. Strange she doesn't mention her family at all, though, just the downfall of Atlas. Would've been really interesting to hear her thoughts on her parents and brother
Little needs to die. Now.
Weiss going back and forth between freaking out about the impracticality of their situation and taking charge when impracticality occurs is jarring. Maybe it's the smaller nonsense she can handle and not the big, abstract stuff? Guess we'll see
"I've always wanted to be long, but I'm still small." That's the funniest thing crwby has written in the last 5 seasons and it goes to the worst character. Typical rwby lol
Yang is absolutely intolerable in this auction bit. Knowing she's in a strange and illogical world, her first instinct is to be a cop? I've seen children act less petulant than her. Also, any item bought is probably more easily stolen from the buyer than the racoon, so why isn't that even on the table right now?
Did these idiot townsfolk really not know the gimmick? He's been at this long enough to be immortalized in a fairy tale, and I highly doubt there's enough space in Wonderland for him to never visit the same place twice. Unless everyone's memories get reset after a certain point, they should damn well know the coon is a con
Also that sword looks like it should be in Halo. Guess old habits die hard
Not this fucking Scooby Doo shit again. Can these characters stop interacting with the loop de loop sections before I throw my computer into the sun?
Wait that's Penny's sword? It's ugly as shit why you gotta do Penny dirty like that again
I find Ruby's expression of depression to be highly unbelievable. The excuse for so long has been that she's been hiding her emotions for the sake of everyone else, which is a fair enough point, but now there's not even a token effort. No obviously painful smiles, no jokes she breaks partway through, no overcompensating by hyping up too much. Ruby might as well be the goth girl at the top of the skyscraper from the All Star Superman comic for all the characteristically realistic depiction of depression she has
It worked well enough when she was alone and didn't have to fake for anyone - which is why everyone was so excited for Ruby to finally be free to break - but that was nipped right in the bud, and nothing has grown in its place. It's just... disappointing
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lordofthestrix · 1 year
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house rules for tristan and freya too 😂
Send me a URL and I’ll post 10 house rules their muse and mine would have if they lived together This one was more challenging than the one with Leah (Don't tell her. I'm pretty sure she might get offended if we let her know she wasn't the difficult one this time) I was going to go with an alternative third season that sees Tristan around when Lucien goes all red-eyed and annoying but the trouble is even if they are sharing a place as part of some unlikely alliance I can see both of them hyperfocusing so much on the task at hand that their interactions remain pretty superficial beyond the occasional glare and quip. So instead...I'm going to jump through quite  a number of hoops. I'm going to start with the question you once raised to me about what could have happened if they had met before the events of the series. Let's say Freya's awakening this century arrives a couple of years sooner. Let's say that Tristan takes notice of a duo of immensely powerful witches that appear to arrive into existence out of nowhere. Let's say that after the uncertainty of some tense initial exchanges he offers Freya a collaboration. And let's say that with a mixture of old and new magical knowledge and inventiveness they succeed in not killing but messing with the internal mechanisms of the sleeping circle of Dahlia's spell, forcing her to take a sudden, premature nap just as she is not very peacefully inquiring what exactly is her niece doing with a group of vampires. Next, let's say that Tristan offers her to stay around for as long as she wishes. Pointing out that his coven represents a collection of magical talent in diverse branches of witchcraft ideal for any sorceress who might be hoping to expand and upgrade her skill in all sorts of new directions she missed during her sleeping years. Varied spells and ways they would be delighted to exchange for Freya's expertise in old magic forgotten to time. Pointing out they are her best bet for a more permanent solution regarding her slumbering aunt. Pointing out she might even find something in common with them, considering the members of The Sisters often carried a past of misfortune caused by the scale and potential of their power.  Let's say Freya says yes? And there we have it. That's the best I could come up with for this situation. Does that work? Oh and for extra fun and future drama Tristan would have no idea she is a Mikaelson. Because honestly you can hear her whole story with Dahlia without reason to make any association to them and as good as Tristan can be knowing about you, I can see this situation as one that would take him entirely by surprise if just as they are advancing in trusting each other suddenly Freya casually mentions Esther or Mikael by name. Okay. Unnecessarily long prologue over. The rules:   1) Even if the culinary masters of the Strix immediately love Freya because she gives them the perfect excuse to revisit the most delicious foods from each period she didn't get the chance to experience, from breakfast to dinner, they should never forget the occasional undertone of blood is always a no for her. She isn't that kind of immortal. 2) The sisters wearing capes during the execution of some spells and hexes is part of an aesthetic and not at all a sign that the leader of the organization might have a flair for the dramatic. There is no need to overly question the level of current relevance connected to the garment. 3) Just because one of the other witches might be a prodigy and artful expert in all sorts of magical relics, dark objects and charmed trinquets doesn't mean Freya is in any way inviting her to touch her amulet without her permission. 4) Just because the antiquity of the volume may not inspire her a natural reverence, Freya should be careful not to treat and go over unique, 700 years old grimoires as if they were magazines. 5) If at any point it just so happens that she starts feeling as part of the group, Freya is entitled to her own cape. She can be certain the quality and cut of the fabric is next to none and past magical voices assure that there is a certain ineffable theatrical satisfaction in spellcrafting in it. 6) It is perfectly okay for Freya to command a scene she liked to repeat itself as many times as she wishes in any electronic device of her choosing but that doesn't imply that it is suddenly socially acceptable to tell legendary actresses and actors to start again in the middle of a performance. 7) Freya is encouraged to enjoy any fun she can have from what she might perceive as unexpected popularity among a certain section of vampires just as eager for the occasion to revisit their decades of origin in some grand event or activity after hearing of her strange tale but highly discouraged to pick favorites, no matter how craftily they may ask for comparisons in her perspective. Courts of vampires are complicated settings to navigate. 8) Freya will do her best to avoid assuming that any open curiosity about her form of immortality suggest the other person wants to break her neck to see it in action. 9) It doesn't matter if she perceives any form of intended treachery in a member of the Strix, it isn't her place to act in accordance.  Proposed by Aya. Overruled by an impressed Tristan who instead offered his approving gratitude after hearing of the happening. 10) This rare state of ambiguous association, with her collaborating or not just as little or as much as she wishes, is transparently offered since a certain degree of paranoia is rightfully expected given her circumstances but Tristan remains just as transparent in letting her know he very much intends for her to find a place to belong there. He believes they should talk, whenever she is ready.   @viikingwitch
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savage-rhi · 1 year
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Immortal Shield  Chapter 19: Taelpar Crag
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Tagging: @seradyn​
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“I gotta know this, listen, please,” Caelan said in between laughs, taking a swig from a wine bottle Ardyn and she had been trading back and forth. “How would you have chosen to die if you weren’t immortal?”
“Well,” Ardyn mused. His face flushed as he lazily grabbed the bottle from Caelan and took a gulp before handing it back. “I’d prefer to clock out at the ripe age of 60. If I were to have been lucky to live that long in my time. The average age was forty something. I’d love to die in bed with a tube of wine going down my throat with it being filled every hour on the hour.”
Caelan was wheezing as she stopped walking for a moment, taking another long sip of the red wine while trying not to spit it back up. The savory flavor, along with its bitterness, had her face briefly scrunch before she passed it back to Ardyn.
“Yourself?” Ardyn mused, mirroring what Caelan had done moments before.
“Much like you I’d like to die in bed. 70 seems like a good cut off. I’d enjoy a handsome fella beside me making sure like in life, I came and went.”
Ardyn felt himself gag. The wine traveling back up his throat as some of it jettisoned out of his nostrils. The flesh on the inside of his nose stung, but it wasn’t enough to stop him from cackling. He could feel the weight of Caelan’s head on his shoulder as she tried in vain to stop herself from laughing. Tears were falling down her face as she rose her head up, fingers wiping away at her eyes.
"I'm sorry! You okay?"
"No, but I assure you I will be! I was not expecting that!"
"You asked!"
“Dear Cahl, when I first met you, I felt like an idiot.” Ardyn admitted in between fits.
“And now?”
“At present I feel like a genius after hearing that.”
“That’s not polite your royal highass.” Caelan quipped, watching Ardyn’s face contort into a grimace; feigning his pride had been wounded as he placed a hand over his heart.
“Is that really the best you got?” Ardyn teased. He couldn’t resist grinning like an idiot when he saw how stumped she had became.
“Do you have jester money? Last I checked I was on the shield rate.”
They both laughed at the snarky remark as another gust of wind picked up in the city. Their bodies had grown warm from the alcohol coursing through their veins and causing them to sweat. The cool air provided relief to every bit of skin that shown through their clothing.
Lestallum and it’s local night life remained active even as 2am approached. The celebrations and festivities to honor the city’s founding day wouldn’t go quietly into the dawn, save for the food carts and stands that were once on the main road. The tunnel leading into the city had several cars come and go now that everyone moved further into the alleys, nooks and crannies to continue partying while offering reprieve to travelers. Ardyn and Caelan approached the highway, looking both ways before they crossed and headed towards Lestallum's walls that met with the valleys of Duscae.
“How much do you think we’ve drank tonight?” Ardyn asked, breathing out of his mouth to give his nose rest from his earlier laughing bout.
“I don’t know,” Caelan nonchalantly swung the wine bottle in her right hand after taking it from Ardyn’s grasp. “I lost track at the pub. Then there were the beers too. And I’m not counting all the pints we stole when no one was watching us.”
Ardyn snickered. “I can’t believe you convinced me to join you in such exploits.”
“This is coming from the man that brought about the apocalypse! How do you think I survived this long by myself? There’s two rules you live by when getting chased by daemons and people for over ten years, snatch, run and keep walking.” Caelan gestured her arms out for emphasis, watching Ardyn shake his head at her antics. He ignored the fact she mentioned three rules instead of two. Not having the heart to correct her.
“Point taken,” Ardyn sighed contently. His left hand reached out to grab the wine bottle from Caelan while they strolled through Lestallum’s main parking lots. They were getting closer to the walls that led into Taelpar Crag, the great canyon formed by the Astrals at the height of their great war. He was careful with his steps down the cobblestone stairs, making sure he had an arm around Caelan so she too could keep her balance. Their occasional laughs and chuckles echoed through the quiet atmosphere. They were one of the only few couples in the area. The near silence in comparison to where they had been was a warm welcome.
"Cahl, would you enlighten me with a joke? You mentioned a jester fee, I wouldn't mind paying whatever number you spout if you have me hollering."
"You're so on. Brace yourself." Caelan laughed, murmuring a thank you every now and again Ardyn kept her from falling over. She felt like a newborn deer trying to find its footing.
"There's a man sitting in a bar at Insomnia. He's been staring at his drink for a half hour. Soon, a brute of a kingsglaive comes in. He walks up to the man, takes his drink, and chugs it all. The poor man starts crying. The glaive says, 'c'mon I'm just playing. Here, I'll buy you another.' In between sobs, the poor man says, 'No, it's not that. Today is the worst day of my life. I lost my job, my wife left me for our neighbor, and my car was stolen and the crownsguard couldn't be bothered. I walk to this bar and when I was thinking about ending my life, you show up and drank my poison.'"
Ardyn's laugh was quite boisterous. He was smiling from ear to ear. Shaking his head in disbelief he raised a brow at Caelan.
"Where did you hear something so morbid?"
"Crownsguard, where else?" Caelan laughed. "Humor was one of the few coping skills we developed naturally."
"You may want to refine those comedian skills of yours, because I've heard the joke before. Slightly different in Niflheim, yet I did enjoy your take." Ardyn said as a matter of fact. He smirked as Caelan made a face, knowing she lost at their little wager on a technicality.
"You still chuckled, so I should be able to ask something of you."
"Absolutely can't argue with that logic." Ardyn laughed.
"Fair is fair I suppose. Name your price."
"Tell me a joke. An old one from your time."
Ardyn was surprised by the request, thinking Caelan would've gone for the money. He hummed in thought, pondering his memories. Not even when Ardyn had to suck up to the wealthy and elite in Nilfheim, did he need to break out old school humor that could easily fly over the heads of modern folk. He briefly remembered trying to share his humor with Verstael, but nine times out of ten it ended in disaster or severe misunderstanding. Eventually he settled on one he felt comfortable sharing to gauge Caelan's reactions.
"Here's an easy one: 'Poor old fool,' thought the well dressed lord as he watched an old cobbler fish in a puddle outside of a pub. The lord took pity on the cobbler, and invited him for a drink. As they sipped their mead, the lord thought he'd humor the old cobbler and asked, 'So how many have you caught today?'. The old cobbler replied, 'You're the eighth.'"
The silence had Ardyn wondering if he had told the joke properly. He knew he was prone to skipping details, but he swore this one he couldn't butcher. Before he could ask Caelan if she needed clarification, she started giggling which evolved into a long laugh. Once it clicked, she was a mess. He grinned proudly at himself.
"I can't believe it took me that long to get it!"
"Well, you are rather inebriated. "
"Very true! But really, that was a good one."
Upon arriving at the bottom of the steps, Ardyn approached the the edge of the wall keeping himself and Caelan from a drop over 2,000 ft. Ahead of them, even in the brisk night, they could see the stone arcs stretch across the land of Duscae. Small remnants of the meteor at the Disc of Cauthess still pulsed a cerulean blue, but more faintly compared to its original disposition years ago. Ardyn felt a wave of nostalgia hit him out of left field as he glanced to his right, seeing a tower viewer beside him. The very one he looked through those odd years ago as he told Noctis and the boys the riddle of the Archean. There was a heavy pull in his chest as his brows knitted into a glare.
“You alright?” Caelan asked, though she didn’t seem to break Ardyn out of his thoughts as his gaze remained on the giant binoculars. She watched him casually toss the wine bottle to the ground, surprised the glass didn’t break.
“I regret hurting the boy,” Ardyn murmured. He wasn’t sure where this was coming from. Chalking it up to the wine giving him liquid courage. His fingers felt the cold metal of the tower viewer before they lazily fell. His gaze averted, feeling conflict and melancholy dance around his head.
“His highness and myself were trapped in a scheme far bigger than mere mortals. I put him through more than a man should endure to sate my needs, but had it not been him, then who? Any of the Caelums bore to my brothers line, could’ve been the chosen ones to slay the accursed Adagium. Any of them could’ve gone to Angelgard and granted me peace. Yet unfortunately, the duty fell to a boy. Barely any experience taken under his wing. At the time I found it so insulting. The gods chose a child to be their champion against me. I enjoyed toying with him very much. Putting him in situations in which I could take everything away like the gods and my brother did. All I could see was my brothers shadow in Noct. He was his spitting image. A spoiled ungrateful brat. He had his chance to cut me down, you know? Yet he let me go so I could destroy Bahamut. I find it peculiar, how even after everything I’ve done, you and the snippets I hear from the radio, tell me Noct honors my name. I don’t deserve a scrap of it.”
“You may see it that way but there’s a silver lining,” Caelan began as she approached Ardyn’s side. Her body somewhat leaning into his as she felt him press his lips to the top of her head, left arm slipping around her waist to keep her beside himself.
“Maybe it had to be him to put you to rest, because his forefather’s wouldn’t have understood even a portion of what you went through. The king shared everything he could with the world about what he experienced being a part of the crystal. A lot of your history too despite your fight. I don’t think the late Regis would’ve been capable of doing something like that. I doubt anyone before him either. The few times I met Regis as a child, he seemed kinda full of himself for an old man.”
“You aren’t far off. It runs in the family.” Ardyn teased as a matter of fact. Hearing Caelan’s soft chuckles had him feeling more at ease as she continued.
“Any of the kings of the past could’ve killed you, but they wouldn’t have let you go with grace. They probably wouldn't have given you the chance to take down an Astral.”
“I never saw it that way before,” He paused. “That does bring---a sense of comfort.”
“I’m glad, you deserve peace. Wherever you can get it.” Caelan’s lopsided smile met Ardyn’s gaze as he chuckled.
“You’re very wise when under the influence. I think I prefer this over you being sober.”
“Pfft,” Caelan shook her head, retreating back from his body. She missed how for a split second, Ardyn looked visibly upset that her warmth had disappeared from him.
"What you said sounded like something Aera would've told me." Ardyn admitted. He almost wanted to take it back, knowing this was probably inappropriate to say during a night like this but what was done was done. He was too tipsy to watch his mouth.
Caelan chuckled. "I love that you cherish her even though she's gone. Everything you told me about Aera, man, if you didn't marry her I would've."
Ardyn couldn't suppress the warm smile that crossed his lips at her comment. "So you're not offended I brought her up?"
"No, why would I be?" Caelan was puzzled yet she couldn't formulate any further. The wine had impaired her sense of reasoning when it came to asking questions.
"I don't know," Ardyn muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. He felt put on the spot by such a simple question. He could feel something akin to anxiety grip a hold of him for the briefest of seconds.
"I heard it's inappropriate to speak of dead spouses. Not a good topic while in private company. Ominous during a night out. That sort of thing."
"She was your wife and you loved her. If you never talked about Aera, I'd think there's something wrong with you." Caelan watched as Ardyn's smile remained even as his brows furrowed. There was an air of morose surrounding him that had her mind diving into uncharted waters. Oceans she hadn't been to in years.
“I'm a hypocrite," Caelan began. "Here I am telling you it's okay to talk about dead loved ones when I can't even mention mine without getting upset."
"You're no such thing," Ardyn reassured. His head canted as he felt curiosity get the better of him. "Do you wish to talk about someone you cared for?"
Caelan’s mind felt like it had been melting for some time. Her eyes traveled from Ardyn to the giant monoliths in the valley. She could feel a similar sensation of wanting to throw up brew in her throat. Her fingers quaked as she took in a deep breath. The faces of her brother and mom came to mind. If there were two people she missed more than anything, it was them.
“There were Niflheim spies that breached Insomnia’s walls when I was 10. Hector, one of my mentors in the guard, told me they were attempting to find the cities weak points. The imperials began bombing when they got caught. My dad, he grabbed me by the shoulders, shoved a spear into my hands and told me to protect mom and August. To take them to the shelters at the end of the district.” Her hands trembled, a vague part of her memory still recalling how small she felt carrying a weapon that had so much gravity to it.
Ardyn didn’t say a word. Even through the haze of his drunkenness, he intently listened. The need to give his undivided attention to her grew strong as she continued.
“I led my mom and brother through Pax as imperials and guard maimed, killed, and shot at one another. So many voices. Too many people screaming. We nearly made it until we were caught in a crossfire. The glaive had come to help. I fended off Niflheim troops from my mom and brother. I didn’t want to kill them. Even though guard yelled and screamed at me to. I wasn’t paying attention. I was too scared. My mom took a hit that was meant for me and died in front of August and I. He was crying. Scared out of his mind.”
Caelan bit her bottom lip, feeling her shoulders tighten as she tried to not fight the memory from playing out. She knew she needed to get this out of her system. Her body wanted to expel some of the poison that had bottled up inside her for years.
“I took his little hand in mine, and we ran. We couldn’t afford to mourn for mom, not yet. Then the bomb came. I saw a white light, and I felt my body levitate and smack the ground. I thought I had died until I came to. I looked where August was, and there wasn’t a trace of him left unless you count blood and broken bone. He just turned 5 a week before.” She started crying, her sobs quiet.
“I was paralyzed. I felt so useless. When I heard someone call out for help, I didn’t care who it was. I wanted to feel like I didn’t fail protecting two people I loved. I helped an imperial out of the rubble. We both had this---moment of understanding. That everything leading up to these points in our lives, it didn’t have to be that way. Why were we fighting wars of kings and politicians that didn’t concern us average people? My dad shot him through the head. He was so---disappointed in me. His wife and son, gone cause his daughter couldn’t bring herself to kill imperials. He found her helping one. He wouldn’t look me in the eye for weeks.”
Mixed emotions ran amok through Ardyn’s features. He could feel it. The weight of her experience and gravity of carrying it around like a ball and chain. Several things began to click for him. Why Caelan was the way she was. Why she had sympathy for imperials. The cowardice that would sometimes grip her more than courage. He was heavy in spirit, knowing he played a part in the mess indirectly. There were many degrees of separation between them, yet the string of fate tied it all together in an intricate web not even a spider could fathom.
“I should hate you with every fiber of my being, but I don’t.” Caelan sniffled. She looked up at Ardyn. Her eyes red as more tears flowed. He remained silent, finding it ironic or perhaps fateful she seemed to be on a similar path in mind.
“Had the gods not fucked you over, you never would’ve played a hand in what became of my family, right? The Astrals ripped your family away from you as they did mine. They just--weren’t direct. They had to dirty someone else’s hands, through yours and everyone’s in the war. I’m--why did they have to hurt us?”
As soon as her hands went to cover her eyes, wanting to hide her crying out of shame, she felt Ardyn's presence draw close. His arms ensnared her into a tight embrace His head laying against her own. Soft apologies and praises filled Caelan's ears for a time, feeling how genuine they were despite not understanding what left his mouth. Everything blurred together and yet throughout, he somehow kept her grounded. Like when they danced earlier in the night, he wouldn't let her fly away.
“Cahl, come.” Ardyn’s voice was barely a whisper as he pulled away.
Caelan wiped her eyes, watching Ardyn take a seat upon the wall, then flipped around so his legs were dangling off the edge. Her eyes widened, voice cracking as she took a few steps forward. The subconscious fear that any force generated by her movement would cause him to fall to his death gripped her more than her current distress.
“Are you crazy?!” She exclaimed, only to be met with a smile as he shrugged.
“People do it all the time, c’mon. Live a little!”
“You honestly expect this to make me feel better? I hate heights!”
“You can only snuff out the sorrows of death by facing it down. I guarantee you’ll be safe. Du evraaht. ” He reminded her.
Caelan could feel her nerves traveling rapid fire throughout her body. Adrenaline pulsing through her blood. The fact she had been drinking heavily added onto the suspense. She swallowed as she approached the wall, looking down then quickly jolted her head back up. She was surprised Ardyn didn’t laugh at her. Biting her bottom lip, Caelan closed her eyes. She tried not to hyperventilate as she sat down on the flat surface of the brick wall. The palms of her hands feeling out the texture, trying to find grooves she could dig her nails into in case she fell. Somehow in her tipsy state, she convinced herself that would solve her problems if anything bad happened.
Then as if her legs had a mind of their own, Caelan slowly began the process of turning around until her feet could no longer feel concrete but air. A swish from the winds had her feet fly up and she yelped, fingertips digging into the rough hide of the wall she was sitting on. Blinking a few times, she looked forward, focusing on the intricate rock formations in the distance.
“How are you feeling?” Ardyn asked. He was lively as ever, watching Caelan shake.
“I feel like I’m going to piss myself.” She admitted. Her voice so painfully numb Ardyn couldn’t suppress the snort from his laugh.
“Well, we can’t have that can we?” Ardyn scooted in her direction. He leaned back some, creating more space in front of him. He was close to the edge facing towards Lestallum, that if he were to fall backward, he’d land beside the visual tower. Ardyn's left hand reached out for Caelan’s right at first, fingers intertwining before he coaxed her to come closer.
Caelan wasn’t sure how he did it. The motions happened so quickly her brain didn’t have time to process how close she was to certain death before finding herself sitting in between Ardyn’s legs. His chest to her back, arms embracing her from behind while his chin found purchase on her right shoulder. She could hear his steady breathing. His stubble digging into her skin. His warm breaths pushing past strands of her hair and tickling the underside of her earlobe. His pulse could be felt upon her back. Steady and calm. It felt as if somehow his heart was trying to communicate to hers, telling it to relax before it burst from its ribcage. He was the embodiment of safety in human form in her mind.
“You asked me long ago what death was like,” Ardyn began. His voice soothing as he watched the skin at her throat twitch from his words. He softly inhaled then continued.
“My father long ago demonstrated this little gimmick to me as we sat upon the highest point of the citadel. Contrary to popular belief, I was terrified of death when I was a young boy. It started when I laid my eyes upon the bones of a man for the first time. I imagined myself in his place, and from there the seeds of fear planted. It used to give me so much terror I'd wake my parents in grief. I want you to look yonder. Past Duscae and to where the mountains meet the moon. See that horizon line? Focus on it until your vision blurs. Don’t blink.”
"Ardyn, this is silly." Caelan breathed out.
"Do you not trust me?"
"I do, but--"
"But what?" Ardyn interrupted. His arms around her waist gave a reassuring squeeze.
"Trust me, Cahl."
Caelan wanted to protest. It felt downright idiotic in her drunken state, but the power of his voice compelled her to do as he requested. She focused on that horizon line. There was nothing glamorous about it. No chorus of angels, no great epiphanies, it was just silence. Silence and the stars and the faint beating of her own pulse. A serenity in the unknown. A surrender to it that formed a oneness. Like a drug it slowly made its way through the core of her being. Tampering down her mind until a pleasant numbness remained. Her vision blurred as he said it would over time as she resisted blinking. The dark blues of the sky mixing like oil and water with the stars. There was no cohesion. Nothing made sense. It didn't need to. Not anymore.
“It’s so quiet,” Caelan murmured. She could feel Ardyn smile against the skin of her shoulder. “Like you’re everywhere, but also not.”
“Hmm hmm.” Ardyn sighed against her.
“Why are you showing me this?”
“I may not recall an afterlife, but I know everyone feels this during their dying time. I myself felt what you described when I was slain.”
There was a pause that hung in the air between them both. In that time, everything clicked for Caelan. What he had been trying to show her. Truly, show her.
“So my mom and brother--”
“They felt what you just now experienced. I wouldn’t lie to you.”
"My dad too?"
"Yes," Ardyn sighed through his nose. There was bitterness laced in his answer, yet he smoothed it over. For her sake. "Even that man."
Caelan bit her bottom lip as her hands rested upon Ardyn’s arms around her abdomen. Her eyes blinked a few times. Shutting in full as her tears from earlier on returned albeit quietly. She could feel Ardyn’s smile widen against her bare shoulder. His lips pressing a few chaste kisses to the spot that she barely felt his touch. They were enough to make her whole body feel warm however.
“Duru nackt efnedii uusUlfitae ji tuum.”
“What does that mean?” Caelan asked.
“It’s an old wish from my time.” Ardyn mused. His voice was so soft it was almost as if he was purring.
“What kind of wish?”
“That you see me as I see you.”
Caelan was quiet for a while, her body leaned more into his as she could feel his arms tighten around her. It was almost as if he wanted to get even closer than they already were. A strong epiphany, one with no words and only emotions started to grow. Even in her intoxicated state of mind, there was a truth tapping her shoulder. Wishing to be seen and acknowledged for what it was. What had been lurking in the shadows waiting to strike when she was ready to face the music.
She loved him.
She loved him so much.
It scared her. It scared her more than sitting on a literal edge.
Freefalling into the canyon below didn't feel so terrifying anymore.
“Ardyn, what are we?” She murmured. There was a long silence followed by an emptiness. She thought for a moment Ardyn had disappeared, but from the corner of her eye he remained with her. He was still holding on. He was still present, yet he was like a statue. Frozen in time and unwavering. It reminded Caelan of when he tensed before attacking the Einherjar back in the woods. The chill of goosebumps began to rise on her skin.
“Whatever you desire us to be.”
Notes:
“Duru nackt efnedii uusUlfitae ji tuum.”
(words can’t define how beautiful you are)
**Yeah, kinda been developing God Speak on my own. I already got pronouns, verbs, and syllable structures figured out.
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Clone Wars: Forsaken-The New Guys
(wrote this at 4am in the morning over the course of 30 minutes to an hour. Don’t expect top tier quality.)  (Fyi, Era-2 is the YW for this story) Cayde took stock of the two new lights Era brought in from the Shore. Not exactly unusual. Even after losing Sundance and his light, and after the Reef, he still found himself saddled with the Vanguard, including all responsibilities that came with it. And that included inducting the newbies. Not that he hated guiding the new lights around...hell, he quite enjoyed it...but after Sundance, and Rex, and the Shore, he just didn't feel the same enthusiasm for mentoring Kinderguardians as he did before. The first guardian was a Hunter. Awoken looked like. Wearing a mask that only covered like, 75 percent of his face. The other was a Titan. Clad head to toe in armor, as expected of the crayon eaters. He wondered why Era brought em to him. He was about to bring it up to her when she spoke up. "Cayde. We need to talk. In private." -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Figures. Fucking figures." The Vanguard said as he leaned against the railing, looking up at the Traveler. Cayde wasn't mad. Nope. He was just...bitter. They had all gone through a lot of effort to give Uldren and his cronies a well-deserved dirt nap. And then this happens. Yes, he knew this Crow kid wasn't Uldren. Just...it was something he was going to have to get used to. "Look Cayde, I wasn't sure about telling you. Especially after what happened with Pirrah." Era explained, as she took a sip of her bottle of water. To be honest, he didn't blame her. She hadn't been there when he...finished off Pirrah, but she had been there to witness the aftermath. Cayde had lost his light, his immortality...and his friend to that piece of shit...and to hear him bragging about it...caused something to snap within Cayde. Still, didn't mean he liked what Era was implying. "You act like I'm going to shoot him in the back of the head when no one's looking." Cayde responded. Era sighed. "Look, I thought it would be better you know now rather than later. Make sure you weren't caught off guard and did something stupid, as usual." Cayde nodded along. He was a Vanguard. It was his job to lead his Hunters...no matter who's face they had. "Not gonna pretend it'll be easy working with a man who looks like the guy tried shooting me. But the Vanguard don't really get the easy jobs do they. Frankly, I'm more worried if Anakin or the 501st find out." His fears weren't exactly unfounded. He had seen them in action in the Reef. Anakin already had a reputation for going ballistic when someone messed with or hurt his friends. He didn't take to kindly to his men getting killed. Cayde saw him slicing his way through hordes of Scorn just to get Uldren. And the rest of the 501st... they looked up to the captain, so needless to say, they were eager to avenge him. All and all, he didn't expect them to take it well if they found out. "Speaking of the 501st." Era continued. "The other Guardian...he was-"Cayde caught on. "Rex." He interjected, and Era nodded in the affirmative. "Well, great, because we didn't have enough headaches already. Safe to say we aren't telling the Republic, right?" "Fuck no. I'm not eager to open that can of worms with the Republic and Kaminoans." Era quipped. "Besides, we both know Kamino would just dissect him." "Well, sooner or later, he's gonna have questions as to why there are a bunch of soldiers walking around that look and sound almost exactly like him." Cayde pointed out. "Crow's gonna be easier to keep in the dark. Though he'll be wondering why so many people hate him whenever he takes off his mask." "We'll figure that out when we get there Cayde." Era said with a smirk. "Guess we'll have to make this up as we go along, won't we?" "That's my Guardian."
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Fam Away From Home: Chapter 36
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Astra could hear that thing the Doctor said. The brilliant, perfect thing.
"There's this moment when you're sure you're about to die and then... you're born"
Astra came to with a gasp. The next sound was shrill and terrified. Her throat felt immediately sore. Was she screaming?
Marcel came close to her- When had he got back?! The brunette tried to push away, but fell from the- Table??- she'd been placed on. The fall was hard, but the feeling of choking on her own blood still vibrated through her. The metallic slick still stuck in her throat. Everything was spinning and erratic until she found the will to crawl away. Her fingers dug into the ground as claws, dirt riding beneath her nails now and clinging to pale fingers. She was outside, then. They'd moved her. Who was they? The ground beneath her was cold and wet so therefore soft, but it was empty. Astra felt no connection to it and that alone nearly broke her.
Gasping and coughing to breathe and clear her throat, sobs wracked her as everything came crashing around her. She looked back over her shoulder. The humans were around the table- she'd decorated that- watching concernedly. Marcel restrained the alien with a hand on her arm. She spit out the last bit of blood lingering in her throat. "I told you to leave." She staggered to her feet, nearly stumbling before nearly falling, yanking the heels off. "It's not safe."
"Not safe's never been a problem before, eh?" Graham quipped.
The brunette's chest was heaving, not to mention drenched in her own coughed up blood from having her internal organs liquefied. What a fun death. Still, the glare she gave them was as unexpectedly firm as they could never anticipate. "We can kill you with a thought and now he's a vampire, capable of siphoning magic from his own death!" she nearly shouted in desperation, not taking in that they had no idea what she was talking about. She'd never told them much about her magic. They just knew it was handy at times, unhelpful at others. "He just killed me. In a single move, he just killed my entire coven. His entire family. My-..!" She stepped forward, nearly threatening, before retreating, looking like she was about to choke on her heart. She narrowed her eyes at them, watching with a monsoon of emotions roiling through her. "You think he's just gonna skip over our four because this isn't your fight?" Her filthy hand moved to hold her stomach, turning away from them again. She stepped toward the tent when Marcel grabbed her arm.
"That's suicide," he tried to dissuade.
She yanked back, not appreciating the feeling. "Then I suppose it's fitting I'm already dead."
The humans' breaths hitched.
She turned to continue, but the immortal was in front of her, holding up the vial, in a heartbeat.
"You don't have to stay that way," he tried to tempt her.
Astra's face hardened in its crumbling, stubbornly in pain. "No." She shoved his hand holding the vial aside. She walked around him, but he grabbed her arm, spinning her back to face him. She suddenly lunged forward, teeth bared, shoving him as hard as she could as she screamed. He pulled her in, sympathetic as she let out all her frustrations. Emotions she couldn't release normally because of how much magic she held inside herself. Therapeutic tears released and sobs wracked her once again.
Marcel held her, letting her hide in the embrace. "First death's always the worst," he promised.
She hadn't even reached the tears on her mother's death, her emotions devolving even further, about to enter full break-down when she pulled back, dragging herself together with shaking arms, hollow eyes, and tear-stained cheeks. Once her eyes met his, he could see the whole range of fire and he was quickly reminded of her parentage. Her arms found his shoulders and pushed him away. "Where is he?" she asked lowly, the blaze within her usually kind eyes held back by a sort of glass shielding her in these moments.
"Don't know." Marcel was still the only one talking; the humans were silent from then on. He knew her. They.. didn't.
After so long in the TARDIS, knowing so little about the Doctor, and her being the one they were curious about even they had enough time to wonder, they'd forgotten about the witch. They knew she had a family, even if they didn't all hang together in the same time. That had been enough. They'd met her dad. The Doctor knew her mum. It fit so strangely, but, in their rush to keep the two women close (the little matchmakers), they isolated the brunette from them.
The man held out the vial of red fluid again. "We went back towards their, what'd'ya call it?, ship, home, whatever, but I remembered the conditions of your coven. He's your leader. If he dies, you all do."
Astra held his gaze, plainly solemn. She took the glass, uncorking it, and downing it instantly. She lowered her head, her cheekbones covered in dark veins. The whites of her eyes went red, tinting the brown paired with it almost maliciously. She threw the vial to the side and ran her tongue over her teeth, clearing them of any blood, showing off her newly extended canines.
Marcel winced, knowing she had to be in a bit of physical pain at the sudden growth and change to her teeth. Clearly, the emotional was much worse. She hadn't flipped the switch, thank heavens. But now she'd be progressively feeling emotions much stronger and she officially had her powers back and she had vampire anger and aggressive tendencies. Especially so new. Everything would be jarring and she was ready to march into battle.
"Go. And this time, I mean it." She undid her hair, allowing dark locks to billow in the summer wind and bounce with every forceful step. The ground shuffled beneath her, feeling her and her feeling it again, as she marched through the barn to find the bloody ground littered with shards of glass. Her witch half of her family all laid about, and Astra registered that she'd have to bury them. Calling the police seemed like such a better idea because this family couldn't just fall off the face of the Earth. Despair and loneliness threatened to crush her as she approached the empty altar. Depression toppled on top as she remembered her mother jerking with stab wounds. Still, she pressed on. Unable to handle the intense emotion, she pushed it from her mind.
Exiting the back door, she found Ric's car inhabited and Kai approaching it. She was almost numb with the weight of emotions piling on. Anger and sadness spiraling into mania and hopelessness. The weapons from the barn had been piled up outside the barn and cloaked to keep from any psychos, God knew how many lived in Mystic Falls, from getting to them. But Astra did the spell so she could see through it. Bending down slowly, she grasped the handle of an axe. Lifting it into her arms, she slowly walked across the gravel, the rocks of the parking area leveling before she stepped on them. The air tingled with magic. Astra stood in a state of external numbness and an internal upheaval. She was taught to keep it inside, her emotions, her feelings, her magic. But every bit of her rage charged a new piece of the spell her mind was following like a memorized labyrinth.
Every path led to the same conclusion as bullets were ripped through Malachai's sturdier immortal body. They ejected from the same path they entered and the man sarcastically flicked them aside. Ric reacted in the depressed manner any surviving member of the wedding would.
Astra was deeply distracted and severely uncaring to his personal hopelessness. She swung the axe, whacking the back of his head. She stared down at his limp body, watching as each limb was torn free simultaneously. The air around them shuddered and her head tipped back, a light overtaking them. Their surroundings came into focus and flora retreated from around the young witch's body. They were back in the barn. A full sized chair sat on the altar, the ground behind Astra still tarnished in bits of glass, shards of wood, and drenched in blood. Kai's body eventually drew back together, anchored in a chair with chains pulling themselves around him. The brunette smirked at the automatic action.
The heretic came to with a gasp, his body settling back into the configuration at the moment of his death. His eyes settled on his smugly confident niece. "Oh, are you going to punish me? 'Cause that's kinda hot," he quipped.
Astra wrinkled her nose in repugnance. "I know our family is messed up and way into twins, but that's disgusting. And no, I will not be punishing you. This world will. Thing about prison worlds, the're rooted in the desires of the creator. A coven can't integrate their internal desires into a single world other than binding someone," she gestured to the bound man, "to its creation."
Kai didn't react for a long moment. His immediate response was denial. "You can't do that. Creating a prison world requires..."
"One of these?" She lifted the axe, looking down as the vines on the axe's handle shifted, turning in a decidedly mechanical way. "And some Gemini magic? You forget, before I was a Parker, I was a Mikaelson. And a first born," she bent her knees, widening her eyes dramatically. "Didn't even need a celestial event! Or Bennett blood." She smirked again before flapping her hands dismissively. "Nevermind, you wouldn't know the big secret." She took a breath, letting out a sigh, before smiling faintly, the depth of her eyes unhinged. "You have to admit." She raised her hands, the chains around him, keeping him on the chair, lifted, raising around the metal intricacies in the ceiling. "This is impressive."
Kai growled, staring at her from his upside down position before shifting in his chair as he felt the blood he fed on rushing to his brain. "Where is everyone?" he demanded, not believing she made a prison world on her own.
Astra faced him fully, a smirk pulling on her lips wickedly. "Oh, there is no one else. Just you and your insecure little mind." She tipped her head back, laughing. "Forever. Immortal." Her wide smile was more in a primal amusement as she stepped forward, grabbing his hair to keep him facing her. "Still hot?" She placed a kiss to his forehead, eyes widening in the end as if something ran through them. Her hand glowed red before she disappeared.
The brunette man stared in shock before jerking again, trying to get loose. "Astra!"
Next Chapter
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cazimagines · 3 years
Text
Try not to forget me
Synopsis: Anon request: Can we have a reader who slept with Zemo when they were younger, they were basically each other’s first times. Reader was brought to the mission and when Sam mentions Zemo she only limits herself to saying that she knows him assuming she knows him from civil war. At some point, Zemo mentions it to Sam and since he can’t contain himself he has to ask reader to be sure. Maybe some smut, like ‘I don’t remember you being this good’
Word count: 8.5k
Author’s note: Welp it took me a while but it's finally here! I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I am such a sucker for the trope of seeing someone you once dated years after not seeing them again. Like give me all of that. Also I changed a little bit of the request but not much.
Warnings: Gun shots, SMUT (for mature audiences), Fingering, Vaginal sex, Stripping
Masterlist
(Please check out my master list to see what I will be writing next and if requests are open or closed)
Cross-posted to ao3 under the same username
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Fingers fumbled with the clasp, the feeling of lips trailing up your thigh, sweet whispers in the air,
‘My princess, my everything’
His kisses on your neck, the desperation in his voice
‘I need you, all of you’
His fingers dug into your hips, his body moving like waves on top of you.
You call out his name to the night, losing yourself in the passion that consumed you.
Your hand tangled in his hair, tugging roughly which elicited a moan from his lips.
His eyes sparkled as he reached his first climax with you, ‘You’ll always be mine’
You woke up still with the taste of his lips upon your mouth. You felt the ghost of him linger on top of you, clinging to that long-ago memory.
But all things fade with time and the cold reality pulled you from the once pleasant dream drenched in sorrow. Sighing you pulled yourself off the made-up bed on the floor, already grabbing a hair tie to pull the bird’s nest of your hair out of your face. You hop over to where your prosthetic leg laid and strapped it onto your thigh.
Grabbing your phone you notice a few miss call from an old friend, calls you must have slept through. Pressing the number you hold it up to your ear as you wander around the apartment preparing for your day.
On the third ring, he picked up.
“Sam?” you ask
“Y/n! I wasn’t sure if I would hear back from you, it’s been a while”
“Yeah, things have been keeping me busy. It’s not like how it was when we were in the army”
You could hear him chuckle down the line, “It’s strange, I would have thought my time in the army would have been the craziest part of my life, but it’s hard to beat all the stories I have of aliens”
“At least you have stories to tell, what do I have? I served for a few years as a new American citizen, almost died a few times till one day I got shot in the leg”
“I don’t know losing your leg is one hell of a story, but speaking of almost losing your life. You remember that time I was able to pull you away from a landmine and you told me, ‘oh Sam thank you so much, I owe you so much’” Sam says down the line in a squeaky voice
“Since when have I ever spoken like that Sam? And why do I have a feeling I’m not going to like where this is going”
“Well that’s because it is time for me to cash in that favour”
That’s how you found yourself arriving at an airport, searching around to find Sam. As you walked around the corner you could make out what seemed to be three figures in the distance. As you got nearer one of them noticed you, and started waving exaggeratingly making you chuckle.
You finally reach him as Sam pulls you into a firm hug. “It’s good to see you again y/n,” he says as you pull away.
“Yes, after all these years of avoiding me” you quip making him laugh
“You know I’d never avoid you! It’s you who has always found an excuse to get out of meeting up with old friends”
“Well I’m here now”
“Speaking of old friends, let me introduce to you this man, 106 years old, dermatologists hate him”
The man Sam referred to now stepped forward, holding out his hand, “Hi, I’m Bucky” he says, smiling slightly as you shake his hand.
“Y/n, you look good for your age”
“He moisturises” Sam buts in making Bucky send him a look, “It’s complicated” he mutters and you nod.
“I met Steve once, I understand,” you tell him, making his eyes light up at the mention of his old friend.
“Super soldier serum, the ability to be almost immortal, another reason as to why we have all gathered here to prevent it”
A shiver ran through your spine as you heard that long ago accent which you had removed from your voice. You focus on the man behind Sam, someone you should have noticed when you first appeared.
It had been over twenty years since you had last seen him yet you could still recognise the way his lips twitched up at the sides but dipped in the middle, the softness of his warm brown eyes, and the slight angular twist his eyebrows had. His hair was more well kept than when you had last seen him. Then he was still going through his rebellious phase, letting his hair grow unkempt but now he had a sense of refinement about him. He knew he was ageing like fine wine and now instead of trying to rebel from the prestigious life he had like when you knew him, he lavished in it, enjoying the money that was of so easy access to him and spent it on all the finer luxuries of life.
“Y/n, this is Zemo. You might remember seeing him on the news, he’s the one who framed Bucky”
You knew him more than that, more than any of them could ever know him. The dream from this morning swarmed your thoughts again, taunting you as if your brain knew what was to come.
Sokovia had been your home country, a place you had longed to forget, leave dead. Zemo, Helmut, was your childhood friend. You couldn’t remember the time when you first met as it felt like he had always been in your life. Everything you two did, you did together. Attending the same schools, going around to each other’s houses, exploring the wildness together. You two were closer than siblings. Your family had nowhere as near the same money as Zemo’s family had, yet that didn’t seem to matter, at least not when you were children. It was no surprise to people when eventually you two started dating. There had been bets on how long it would take for Zemo to gather the courage to ask you out. You and Zemo had been each other’s firsts, first partner, first kiss, first making love, which is where your dream had come from. It was cringy to say it but you felt like you loved him with every inch of your soul, and you knew Zemo was just as dedicated to you.
That’s why the break-up was so messy.
You were the one who called it. You had to. Zemo might have been blind to what it meant to be a Baron at that time but you weren’t. His parents allowed him to have his little indulges, allowed you two to be friends, to date. But at the end of the day, he would always be from the higher class and your family from the lower class. They would of never let you two marry so you had to call off the relationship before you got too deep, to save yourself some pain. You’d hoped that you two could still be friends, though it would have hurt, you still wanted to be around him but that was never meant to be.
At first, he didn’t believe you, he laughed it off as a good joke till he realised you were being serious. Then was the confusion, he wouldn’t let you leave. He needed to know what he did wrong, what could have happened for you to want to break up with him. Then was the obsession. He wouldn’t leave you alone, turning up to your house every day to beg for another chance, following you around trying to pick the relationship back up, threatening any guy that went near you. Then the heartbreak when he finally accepted it was over. He didn’t leave his house for months, you heard rumours he drank himself to sleep most nights, till one time at the dead of the night you found him pounding on your door, shouting to let him in. He was pissed and crying, imploring at you to give him a second chance, begging for you to tell him what he could do to get back with you. He would do anything, give you all his money, abandon his family and run away with you. You helped him back home and told him to leave you alone. And to give it to him he did because then came the anger. You would see him outside and he would pretend he didn’t even know who you were. You’d walk past and accidentally hit shoulders and he shouted at you to watch where you were going. Soon he would be seen with lots of different women, taking them to all the places he took you, dancing at parties. Whenever you looked over to them they were making out and it pained you deeply for what you had to give up. Eventually, you ran away. You couldn’t keep torturing yourself seeing Zemo move on with someone else while you were still suffering on the inside, not just for losing the boy you love but the person who had been your best friend for as long as you could remember.
You left Sokovia to live in America, completely ridding yourself of your whole past identity. There you decided to enlist in the Army which is where you had met Sam, served with him for a few years till you were forced to retire early due to losing your leg. You checked up on Zemo every once in a while, it wasn’t too hard with the Sokovian news constantly obsessing over him. He married the woman he moved onto, the one you always saw making out with him. You suppose he truly must have loved her because it was your birthday when his son was born. While he celebrated the happiest day of his life you spent the day at the bottom of a bottle drinking away the loneliness. You still remember the moment you found out what had happened to Sokovia. You hadn’t been back there in years but it was still your home, where you had all of your fond memories, now all gone.
You didn’t see anything in the news about Zemo after that, he and his family completely vanished so you had to assume the worst. Till you finally saw him on the news. It was hardly like the boy you once knew. The Zemo you knew was kind, empathetic, caring, beautiful in every way he could be yet the man you saw there was a murderer, cold-hearted, reckless. What had happened to the boy you once knew?
You could make guesses, his family was nowhere in sight and you could only imagine how losing the woman you love and your child could hurt you. You hated imagining all the pain Zemo has gone through.
“Yes, I remember seeing him on the news,” you tell Sam. Both you and Zemo stared at each other, your eyes unwavering.
He knew who you were. He knew from the moment you turned around that corner. As he watched you warmly greet Sam and shake hands with Bucky. He watched the person he never thought he would see again stand right in front of him, not even noticing him.
But now you stood there, staring him down. Both of you almost speaking through your eyes. Would the other one bring up the past? Try to acknowledge all that has happened between you or is that dead, left forgotten. Will you two pretend to have never met before, letting years of memories fade.
Zemo was first to speak.
“I see my reputation isn’t too favourable”
“That’s what you get for blowing up the UN,” you say scowling at him as you cross your arms
Zemo opens his mouth to say something but Sam gets here first, “Y/n served in the Army with me so you better be careful with what you say Zemo”
Zemo’s eyes then flicker back to you tilting his head, like he always used to do, in interest.
“Why is he even here?” you ask, finally pulling your eyes away from him to Sam and Bucky
Sam turns to Bucky with a plastered on a fake smile, “Why don’t you explain Bucky”
Bucky sighs as he glances over to you, “As Sam mentioned to you on the call we are trying to track down this group of super-soldiers called the Flag Smashers. We need Zemo here to help us track down where they got the serum and help us so no one else becomes a super-soldier”
“And you trust him?” you scoff, glaring back to Zemo who just smirked at you
“We have no other choice” Bucky mutters, scowling over at Zemo
“I can assure you, I won’t do anything to betray your trust. For once all of our goals are aligned that it would do us no good to go against each other.”
“I’ll hold judgment till later,” you reply bitterly.
Swifty Zemo swings on the heels of his feet, turning around to start walking away, obviously expecting all of you to follow him. Sighing in annoyance you trail after him.
As you had predicted both you and Zemo were pretending to not know each other, perhaps for the sake of the mission or perhaps for the sake of your well beings. You’re not sure if you could cope even acknowledging the past you two had. He’d been the person you had been closest to, someone you shared all your secrets, all your thoughts and feelings with. Someone who you would have taken a bullet for in the blink of an eye and to suddenly lose all of that, it wrecked you. You had finally managed to build yourself up again, to try and move on and then he comes straight back into your life. It’s as if there is some strange omnipotent god up there and it loved to torment every waking moment of your life.
“So all this time you’ve been rich?” Sam asks and you all catch up with Zemo and see him walking towards what you assumed was his private aeroplane.
“I’m a Baron, Sam, my family was royalty till your friends blew up my country”
There was a slight change of tone for when he said ‘my’ not enough for Sam and Bucky to pay attention to it but enough for you to feel the slight twist in your heart as you thought back to the country that used to be yours, long ago.
As you got closer you observed a man standing by the plane, ready to welcome Zemo aboard and you felt your heart stop for a moment. Oeznik. The man had aged since you last saw him, he had fallen to the tolling of time but he still had those warm, caring eyes.
Memories swept over you of your childhood as you observed him. He has always been Zemo’s assistant, hired by Zemo’s parents when they were much younger. You could remember times when you and Zemo would be running down the corridors, not where you were supposed to be and Oeznik would find you two, not telling you off but smiling at you two, saying how Zemo’s parents were looking for him. He would sneak you two Turkish delights even if it was only an hour before dinner. Anywhere you two wanted to go he would drive you there. Whenever you slept over he would prepare your favourite meals, making sure everything was just how you liked in the room you would stay in. He was almost like another father figure to you and Zemo.
And now there he was, greeting Zemo. Zemo kissed him on the cheeks fondly before heading inside. Sam and Bucky both follow up but you take a moment to turn to look at him.
“Oeznik” you whisper
He smiles warmly down at you, placing his hand on the side of your arm. “It’s good to see you again madam”
You nod your head, unable to say anymore without letting your emotions get the better of you so you choose to head inside.
You could feel his eyes on you as you enter. You glance up to him and you know he knows why you took a little longer to get onto the plane. It was that knowing look in his eye, the slight twinkle of amusement but also sadness.
You frown realising you’d have to take a seat opposite Zemo, Sam and Bucky already choosing to sit on the other side, showing their dislike for him. You freeze for just a moment making Zemo gesture to the seat in front of him, smirking as he tilts his head. You huff, not bothering to hide your displeasure, taking the seat in front of him but refusing to even look at him.
A few minutes later Zemo chuckles as Oeznik brings out two drinks, a glass of champagne which he offers to Zemo, and a glass of rum which he offers to you. You’re favourite drink. After all this time he still remembered.
You kindly thanked Oeznik, taking the glass as you avoid the confused eyes of Sam who was wondering why you got a drink and he didn’t and the eyes of Zemo, which held an emotion you couldn’t quite recognise.
“The food is out but I will see if there is some good food in a gallery,” he tells Zemo and starts to turn away but then Zemo speaks.
“If it doesn’t pass the food test, give it to them,” he says, speaking in sokovian and gesturing to Sam and Bucky.
You weren’t prepared for the surge of pain in your heart as you heard Zemo use the language of your people. Though it had been over twenty years since you last heard it, you could still remember it perfectly.
Oeznik laughs, “It’s good to have you back sir,” he says, then nods to you before leaving again. Zemo smiles at Sam and Bucky, enjoying the notion of how they didn’t know what he said, before his eyes swiftly turn back to you, knowing you know exactly what he said.
He takes a swing of his drink before speaking again, “It’s kind of him to remember your go-to drink” he says in Sokovian.
And there it was. The first acknowledgement of the past between you two. Your eyes burn into his head as you realise just what he was doing. It was a test. He spoke in Sokovian for just you to understand, seeing if you were to take the bait and talk back in Sokovian. He wanted to see if you were willing to acknowledge the past between you two as well.
But Sam and Bucky had no idea where you were from. As far as they knew from your accent you were American and you planned to keep that secret. You weren’t going to play in Zemo’s little game, you refused to take your turn. Instead, ignoring what he had said to stare at the ground.
He waits for a few moments before accepting you weren’t going to reply. Sighing he turns to Sam and Bucky.
“You don’t know what it’s like to be locked in a cell” he starts “Oh, that’s right, you do” he then carries on, taunting them. If he can’t mess with you then he’ll mess with them.
“Why don’t you tell us about where you are going” Sam replies, ignoring Zemo’s attempt at taunting.
Zemo then instead turns to the book in his hand, thumbing through it. “Sorry, I was just fascinated by this. I don’t know what to call it but this part seems to be important. Who is Nakajima?” he asks turning to Bucky
Instantly Bucky was out of his seat, his hand around Zemo’s throat pulling him back as he leans in towards his face.
“If you touch that again, I’ll kill you” he whispers
Zemo nods as Bucky lets him go, letting out a slight breath he had been holding in. Bucky glares as Zemo has he takes his seat again.
“I’m sorry. I understand that list of names. People you’ve wronged as the Winter Soldier.”
“But you’re not sorry” you abruptly say, making all eyes turn to you. “Ever since we’ve sat down you’ve been taunting us, trying to stir up trouble. Soon your annoyance will outweigh any use you have for us”
“I’m sorry if I have caused you any offence, Princess, it is never my intention to upset any of you”
But it was. It fucking was. Because he knew just how much pain that nickname brought to your heart. Princess. That’s what he had always referred to you as when you dated. In his eyes, you were a princess, his princess. You clench your jaw, trying to stop the tears that swelled in your eyes. Something Zemo picked up on and himself felt pained seeing your reaction.
“Don’t call her Princess. Her name is y/n” Sam says, glaring at Zemo.
“My apologies, it was my fault to refer to your girl like that”
Instantly both yours and Sam’s eyes widen at his words.
“We’re not, that’s not-” Sam starts to say, fumbling with his words
“We’re just friends” you but in, glaring at Zemo for you knew why he said that.
“Y-yeah” Sam replies, looking between you and Zemo as you stare at each other. Zemo tilts his head slightly, the edge of his lips twitching up.
“I see”
“Now perhaps you could stop taunting us, Zemo, and answer Sam’s original question about where the hell we are going”
If you had blinked you would have missed it but just for a split second, as his last name fell from your lips, you could see him flinch. These days everyone referred to him by his last name, never his first name. And although in the past you had always called him by his first name, you, like them, were using his last name. That hurt more than he thought it would.
“I’m afraid I can’t say just yet, but all will be relieved in due time’
You just groan, rolling your eyes and then choosing to stare out the window trying to forget all about the man that sat in front of you.
Hoping to alleviate the conversation Sam nods to the book Bucky took back from Zemo.
“I’ve seen that book, it’s Steve’s book for when he came out of the ice. I told him about trouble man. He wrote it in that book. Did you hear it? What did you think?”
“I like 40’s music so…” Bucky grumpily replies
“You didn’t like it!?” Sam exclaims leaning forward
“I liked it”
“It’s a masterpiece James. Complete. Comprehensive. It captures the African American experience” Zemo buts in, speaking with his hands as he looks over to Bucky
Sams’s eyes face moves from looking at Bucky, to looking at Zemo then back to Bucky.
“He’s out of line, but he’s right. It’s great. Everybody likes Marvin Gaye”
Inside your head, you scoff at Zemo as he talked as if he was sophisticated with music, ‘like you didn’t listen to Nirvana all the time’ you thought. From that point you ignored what they were saying, sipping your drink as you stare out the window. Today had taken a complete turn from what you ever could have imagined it would have turned out to be. And little did you know it was about to get a whole lot messier.
-
“No fucking way. You can’t make me do that”
“You have to if you want to blend in for the mission” Zemo explains
“She can blend in, in many other ways, she doesn’t have to pretend to be your partner,” Sam says arguing for you
“They will be suspicious of her though and it could risk the whole mission but if she was my partner they wouldn’t be suspicious”
“He’s right y/n” Bucky adds, “I don’t want to be doing this either but if we want to find out where the super-soldier serum has come from we need to”
Zemo nods to Bucky in thanks and then looks to you, the corner of his lip twitching up in amusement that Bucky was backing him up and seeing your anger.
He was deliberately trying to antagonise you. Making you pretend to be his partner for the mission, was his way to get back at you for the pain you caused him when you broke things off. You didn’t think you could cope with having to pretend to be his partner for it, it would just bring up all the pain of what had been lost between you two, what you had to let go of. But they were right. You had to do it for the sake of the mission. If Bucky could pretend to the winter soldier again for the mission the least you could do was this.
“Are you seriously taking his side Bucky, if she doesn’t want to be that then-” Sam starts to argue but you cut him off.
“It’s okay Sam, Bucky’s right I need to do it”
Sam opens his mouth in surprise and then moves over to stand in front of you, placing his hand on your shoulder. “No you don’t y/n, don’t listen to them”
You place your hand over Sam’s hand on your shoulder, rubbing it slightly. “I’ll be okay with it Sam. It’s not like I’d be dating him”
Your eyes flicker to Zemo who had been glaring at Sam now turned his eyes to you, his lips almost twitching into a frown but he stops them.
“I won’t wear that dress though,” you say, your eyes looking down to the short dress Zemo held in his arms.
He opens his mouth to argue against that as well but you stop him, “No Zemo, I won’t be wearing that, that is final”
He bites back his words, smacking his lips together as he nods, “If that is what you wish”
You weren’t ashamed of your prosthetic leg. It was a reminder to you for all you had given to people. But you weren’t about to walk around Madripoor with it being showed off to everyone. And a part of you wasn’t ready for Zemo to see you with it, though you don’t know why.
You hadn’t been to Madripoor before but it didn’t surprise you that Zemo knew the place well. It looked like the shady place you would find him in. As soon as you stepped out of the car Zemo’s arm wrapped around your waist. It fitted like nothing had changed in the time between. Your face instantly turned to him to tell him to let go but he held his finger up to your lips to stop you, “For appearance y/n, you are after all, for this evening, my partner”
Begrudgingly you accept it and don’t try to move his arm away as you walk together. Sam walks up beside you and as you turn to look at him he rolls his eyes. You chuckle at Sam then felt Zemo’s grip on your waist tighten.
As you walk into the bar Zemo takes a seat on the stool. You glance around but all the other seats had been taken. Smirking Zemo pats his lap, “Hop on princess”
You grasp onto his shoulder, pinching it harshly to cause him some pain as you position yourself on his lap, but he just chuckles at your reaction, his hand instantly going to rest on your tigh which was thankfully covered by your trousers.
“Don’t call me princess” you whisper angrily to him
He leans forward, his lips by your ear as you feel his breath, “We have to make it realistic princess, plus I think that would be the sought of a nickname I would give you if we were dating”
He presses a lip to your cheek as he pulls back from you, chuckling as he sees how your cheeks heat up and the glare you grace him with.
“Hello gentlemen and lady,” the barman says finally coming over to you, “I wasn’t expecting the smiling tiger”
“His plans changed, we have a business to do, with Selby,” Zemo says, trying to take over all conversation so no one gave themselves away.
“And she does as well?” he asks, nodding to you
“Anywhere I go she goes with me” Zemo replies, chuckling as he looks at you with a smile on his lips
“Isn’t that right princess?”
You try your best to push back the anger you felt, instead, forcing a smile as you look back at Zemo, “Of course my love” you tell him then leans forward to place a quick peck on his lips.
As your lips lightly brush against his you could hear the slight hitch in his breath and as you lean your head on his chest you wonder if he could feel how fast your heart was beating in your chest.
It’s just for appearances, that’s all you tell yourself but even though it was brief you could still feel the warmth of his lips on yours, that comforting feeling that you hadn’t felt in so long and it was as if all the buried emotions you had come flooding back. Here you were sitting on his lap, kissing him as if nothing had changed and for a moment you wondered if that could be the case. Could you two go back to what time was like before?
But you couldn’t. Not only was it down to the fact that Zemo was a wanted criminal, but he had moved on from you. He fell in love with another, he married her. Any feelings he had for you were long gone and this was just him messing with you, and you didn’t want to let him know the feelings you still had for him after all this time.
The barman seems to accept your display though, choosing to focus on Sam instead as he makes him his ‘usual’ drink.
Zemo orders you and him a drink which you thankfully take from his hand, hoping to drown your feelings away with the alcohol.
A man comes up behind you and instantly Zemo lifted you off your lap, pushing you behind him as he stands up to face the man.
“Got word from on high, you’re not welcomed here,” he tells Zemo,
“Hm” Zemo replies, nodding as he takes the man’s words, “I have no business with the power broker, but if he insists he can either come talk to me...” he finishes, nodding over to Bucky
“Or bring Selby for a chat”
The man leaves as Bucky looks over to Zemo. As Zemo turns around once again his arm wraps around your waist.
“A power broker, really?”
“Every kingdom needs its king. Let’s just pray we stay under his radar”
“Do you know him?” you ask and Zemo looks down at you amused by your question, “Only by reputation”
“In Madripoor he is judge, jury and executioner”
Zemo’s eyes focus now on another man coming towards him. Turning back around to the bar he speaks to Bucky in Russian just as the man places his hand on Zemo’s shoulder. You all turn around to watch as Bucky grabs the man and starts to attack him. You’d seen violence before but it still made you wince knowing how Bucky didn’t want to do this.
After one particular nasty hit without thinking your hand grasps onto his hand, needing something to hold on to. As soon as you realised what you had done you swiftly try to pull your hand back but Zemo holds onto it tight, refusing to let it go. You could feel his gaze turn to you but you choose to ignore his cocky face and instead focus on Bucky.
You stand out of the way as Bucky slams the man onto the table and Zemo leans forward to let Bucky know not to take it too far. That was your ticket though as then you were being shown the way to see Selby.
The meeting itself wasn’t too bad. Zemo held onto your hand as he pulled you over to sit with him. He talked to Selby while you just sat on his lap. Selby didn’t pay any attention to you, which you were thankful for. Things were going smoothly until Sam’s phone ringed.
That’s how you found yourself running along with Bucky, Sam and Zemo avoiding gunfire. As you ran you heard one gunfire and felt your prosthetic leg move slightly as the bullet went straight through it.
Zemo must have seen what happened as well, but not knowing you had a prosthetic leg, he wrapped his arms suddenly around your legs, picking you up bridal style. He ran off to the side, leaving Bucky and Sam behind as he hid you down an alleyway.
“Zemo let go of me!” you hissed, hitting him in the chest as he stopped running. He instead places you on the ground, growling at you not to move as he starts to check all his pockets in his coats. Instead, you do move, getting up off the floor and he looks at you angrily. “I said don’t move! You’ll injure yourself more”
You lean down and jank up slightly the trouser leg, showing the fake metallic leg underneath.
“I’m fine Zemo! It’s fake. Now we need to go and find Sam and Bucky”
But Zemo was frozen, staring down at your leg in shock. Because at that moment was the realisation for him. All this time he had been teasing you, testing the waters of how far he could push you to admit to the past. Messing around with you as if you were two lovesick teenagers again. But you had both changed, and he was refusing to realise that until now. Because he didn’t want to acknowledge the fact you were no longer the woman he once knew. The one person he knew better than himself and he had still half-believed that was the case until now. You had a fake leg, lost in what he assumed was the army which you and Sam had been in. He didn’t know because the truth was you were almost a stranger to him now, and he hated that. He just wanted things to be the way they once were. That’s what he desperately craved but it couldn’t be.
“Okay,” he simply says and nods, finally pulling his gaze away from your leg and up to you. Following your lead, he chases after you to find out where Sam and Bucky had gone.
-
Sam paced around the main room of Sharon’s house. His mind was occupied with so many thoughts it was hard to concentrate but there was one that stuck out like a splinter in a thumb. What the hell was going on between you and Zemo? He wasn’t stupid he could pick up on something, the looks two you gave each other, the tension in the air, the way you reacted when you first saw him. Sam considered himself your best friend, though you two hadn’t seen each other in ages. So it bugged him how this was obviously something big to you, and he didn’t know what it was.
Zemo sat at the table by the side, quietly drinking some whiskey. Both you and Bucky had decided to retire for the night while Sam decided to stay up just so he could find out the truth.
“You look like you are trying to burn a hole through my head by the way you are staring at me Sam” Zemo says, finally looking up from his glass to Sam who was glaring at him.
“Is something the matter?” he asks
“You and y/n. What’s up with that”
Zemo chuckles, looking back down into his glass, “Ah that”
“I’m her best friend, I know everything about her, apart from this apparently”
Zemo’s eyes snapped back to Sam but this time there was no amusement in them, instead a angry glaze as he frowned, “Best friend?” he repeats, standing up and walking over to Sam. “You hardly know her at all”
Sam scoffs as he raises an eyebrow at Zemo attempting to get into his face. “And you do?”
“Yes” Zemo instantly replies, “I know she was born in Novia Grand, Sokovia. Just like me. I know which schools she attended, the same as mine, I know what her favourite meals are, we had them whenever she came round to my house. I know her favourite band, I took her to their first concert. I know everything little thing about her Sam, and you know nothing”
Sam’s eyes widen at Zemo’s confession, realisation dawning on him. “You were childhood friends”
“More than friends Sam, we were lovers. We were the first people we dated, we were each other first kiss, we were each other first time” Zemo claims as if bragging to Sam
“Yet you didn’t know she was in the Army, you didn’t know she had a prosthetic leg did you?” Sam asks and when he sees the slight fall in Zemo’s face he smiles, “You used to know her Zemo, but obviously, you don’t know the person I know now”
-
With a pair of tweezers lent to you from Sharon, you pull your trouser leg up and search around in your prosthetic leg attempting to find the bullet lodged inside and pull it out. You could see the bullet but you couldn’t quite get the right angle to pull it out making you groan in annoyance.
You were about to throw the tweezers across the room in anger when you heard a knock against the door. You were currently sitting in one of Sharon’s guest rooms as lot were staying at Sharon’s place for the night to rest up then go and find the scientist tomorrow morning.
“Y/n?” you hear his voice call out from the other side
You sigh rolling your eyes, “What do you want” you snap
“May I come in? We need to talk”
“I don’t want to talk”
You hear the click of the door and Zemo pushes it open to stare at you in a slight annoyance. His eyes then move down to the tweezers in your hand and your leg. He takes a few steps towards you, his hand out as he closes the door.
“Let me”
You hesitate for a moment but finally, give in and hand him the tweezers. He pulls out a seat beside you and gently puts the tweezers through the hole in your leg.
“How did it happen?” he asks as he concentrates on your leg while at the same time trying to create polite conversation.
“Like most injuries out there. One of the soldiers was on the floor, shot a round of bullets into my leg. The doctor there couldn’t save my leg so I had to get it amputated”
He nods, finally grasping the bullet with the tweezers and started to pull it out. “Serving in the army, it’s admirable. Something very like you. I was in the Sokovian armed forces. EKO scorpion”
You nod as you watch him pull the bullet out and place it to the side. “I remember reading about it in the news”
His eyes, flickering to you, glimmer with amusement. “So you kept track of me?”
Your cheeks heat up in embarrassment as he caught you out. You glance away from his intense stare instead to the table. “Did you really expect that I didn’t? You once were my best friend Zemo. It’s hard to let that go. I saw you got married, had a child. I’m sorry about what happened to them”
It was Zemo’s turn to look away now, feeling the pain in his heart ignite as he thinks back to his previous family. “My son, he was born on your birthday”
“I’m surprised you remember my birthday”
He smiles slightly, finally turning his eyes back to yours, “Of course I do. Every year I’d drink a toast to you. You said that I was your best friend and hard to let go of that. Well, it’s the same both ways y/n. I couldn’t just forget about your existence.”
“I had to leave” you whisper
“I know. I know why you left, and I know why you broke up with me in the first place”
Your eyes flash to his in surprise and widen seeing how they were swarmed with tears. “Because of my family, they never would of let us marry because of your status. Y/n I would have left all of that behind for you, without a second thought”
Shaking your head you reply, “I couldn’t have asked that of you Zemo”
“And that’s one of the reasons why you are so perfect. You always put me before you, now this time I am asking you to finally let yourself choose. If you want me to leave say and I will leave. But if you don’t say I will stay with you, and I won’t let you leave again”
“We’re not who we once were, Helmut” you mutter, finally letting yourself use his first name and with that, he already knew your choice. His hand goes up to cradle the side of your face gently, moving it nearer to him.
“Then let’s discover each other, all over again”
Your eyes fluttered shut as he pushed his lips on you, fitting perfectly against yours as if they were made for you. He poised there, hoping he wasn’t being too forward but his lips smirked as you started to move your lips on him, crashing them on top of his for action, which he kindly gave.
His tongue poked your bottom lip, begging for entrance. One which you allow as you wrap your fingers behind his neck, getting tangled in his hair.
You could hardly believe this is where you were, once again with Zemo, his lips upon yours, desire between your legs. In the last twenty years, you had often dreamt of reuniting with Zemo, experiencing this moment again but you never thought it would happen. But here you were.
His hands travelled down your back, swooping under your butt as you wrapped your leg around his waist. Swiftly he lifts you off the chair and walks you over to the bed, placing you down on it and crawling on top of you.
His lips trail down your cheek, across your jawline and down onto your neck, sucking on that delicate pulse spot. A moan escapes from your lips and he pulls back chuckling. “For so long now I’ve longed to hear you moan for me Princess”
You just groan, your hand pushing his face back into your neck making him laugh but he quickly goes back to making a hickey on it. His fingers trail down to your shirt, slowly lifting it and once again he pulls away to be able to lift the shirt off you.
He holds back for a moment to admire your beauty. His hands move behind your back and swiftly undoes the clasps on your bra, tugging it off. He groans seeing you for all your glory and buries his head in your boobs. ‘Oh how I have missed these’
While his mouth latches onto your breasts, smothering them in kisses as his hands go to undo the buttons on your trousers. He starts to tug them down, with no sense of being gentle but rather a primal urge taking over him. He manages to tug them off you and then his lips move down even further. He trails his tongue from your breasts down your belly, leaving a trail of saliva. As he reaches your underwear, his teeth latch onto it. With a slight groan from his lips, he then pulls them off, sliding them down your legs and flicking them off to the floor along with your other discarded clothes.
He sighs in contentment as he buries his face into the side of your thigh as his fingers trail your prosthetic leg. Leaning forward he places a kiss on it, then trails upwards, littering it in soft kisses. The only softness you’ll be experiencing tonight.
As you feel him get nearer your core you let out a shudder in anticipation, as you shudder you feel his lips suddenly press against your core. He instantly latches into your clit, his tongue dancing on it, twisting it in circular motions. Your hands instantly grasp his hair, holding him close to your core, not letting him go. Not that he ever want to. Sandwiched between your legs is where he belonged.
“If I remember correctly, you always liked this part”
You let out a shocked gasp as suddenly a finger presses against your entrance and then slips inside of you, with ease from how wet you have become. He slides the finger all the way into the end, letting a moan rip out of your throat.
“It seems I do remember correctly”
“Instead of commentating everything why don’t you put that mouth to good use” you groan, pushing his face back into your crotch. His tongue instantly went back to your clit as he started to thrust his finger in and out of you, making sure it brushes against your walls. As you start to let more little moans he thrusts another finger inside, opening slightly to stretch you out.
You could feel the knot in your stomach tightening as he worked his tongue on your clit and his fingers in and out of you at a rapid pace. Then his fingers hit just at that right spot and your walls fluttered around him. You hardly got enough time to choke out a warning before you were gushing all over his fingers. When your climax started to edge away he pulled his face back from your clit, removing his fingers and while holding your eye contact he stuck his tongue out, lapping up your juices on his fingers.
He moans slightly as he licks it up, his eyes fluttering half close, ‘Mine Gott, I forgot just how good you tasted’
“Well let’s see if you are as good with that dick as you were in the past” you tease, pulling his face towards your to encompass in another kiss. As your hands hold his face to yours his fingers feel up the side of your waist, ghosting over your skin creating goosebumps.
You could sense when his fingers started to trail to his trousers though and you pull away from his lips making him whine.
“Strip for me”
He tilts his head smirking as he looks up into your playful eyes. “As you wish my princess,” he says as he climbs off you, standing at the end of the bed. Slowly he tugs off his large coat off, laying it on the side of the bed. Next, he works on his turtleneck, slowly tugging it up to his chest, then over his head. Soon it joins the steady growing pile of discarded clothes. Next, he quickly tugged down his trousers and boxers, his patience starting to wear thin.
As he pulled them down exposing his dick you hummed in approval. “Now isn’t that a sight for sore eyes”
“And you were complaining at me for talking” Zemo murmurs, stepping forward to crawl back onto you but your hold your hand up to stop him. “Put the coat back on”
“I see in our time apart you’ve become more demanding,” he says as he picks up the coat and slides it back onto his naked body. As he finally gets to crawl back on top of you, you grasp the fur collar and pull him closer to your face.
You run your fingers through his hair, making it even messier than it was before. Parts of it fell onto his forehead. His hands move down to hold his dick by your entrance, rubbing it against your folds. For a moment he hesitates, moving his head to rest against your forehead in anticipation.
“You’re still as beautiful as when I last saw you”
With that, he pushes into you, rather quickly because of how desperate he was to feel you around him. As he bottoms out he groans, pushing his face into the crook of the neck as you grasp the back of his head gasping. He stays still for a minute, treasuring the feeling of your walls clasping onto him. Then slowly he pulls mostly out of you, till just his head hung in your, and then thrust back into you.
He started to pick up speed, hearing the increase of your moans against his ear. His grunts and moans start to intertwine with yours as you both chase your pleasure.
“Gott, you are so perfect my princess. You feel so good around me” he’d groan into your ear as his hips thrust repeatedly into your, the sounds echoing on the walls of the room. His fingers sneak down your belly to your core, rubbing against your clit. Instantly your back was arched and your fingers grasped onto the coat.
“God Helmut, I don’t remember you being this good” you moan and with your words he speeds up, pumping inside of you. His head kept brushing up inside that perfect spot inside and with his fingers twisting on your clit you could feel your climax steadily approaching.
“H-Helmut, I’m going to, soon I’m-” you tried to get out between moans but there was no need to as Zemo could feel how close you were for the way your walls clung around him tightly.
“Come for me Princess, let me feel you. I need to feel you again my love, after so long”
And his words were music to your ears as you feel the knot within you snap and your wetness gushing over his dick. Zemo bites down on your neck, trying to be gentle, as he feels your walls grasp you even tiger as he thrusts into you. Not long after he felt his own release coming and as you lay there panting he thrusts in time to his release until he squeezed out every last drop.
He hovers over you for a moment, panting, wanting to remain in your warmth for just a moment longer but eventually he pulls out and collapse beside you.
He wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you into his side, burying his face in your hair.
“Thank you Helmut” you whisper
“No my princess, thank you for forgiving me for everything I’ve ever done to you. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, I don’t deserve your love but I desperately need it. I won’t lose you again my darling”
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All I Want For Christmas Is You
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Word Count: 5.8K+
Author’s Note: ok so someone ask me why I chose pedraz and I’ll tell you. I loved writing this, I think we all missed luke smut, I know I did. And frenemies is always fun, especially when the sexual tension is real. And christmas time too! i hope you guys enjoy it.
Pairings: luke patterson x reader - cousin!julie x reader
Warnings: smut, baby!
--
Some people just radiate confidence, wherever they go, whatever they do. You meet one of those people and often find yourself blown away by their beauty, their intelligence, their sheer, raw and unfiltered talent: the sort of people that walk into a room and all eyes suddenly fall onto them, because why wouldn’t they?
In short, there wasn’t a lot that Luke wasn’t good at.
The Los Feliz senior was perhaps the most popular kid in school; the band he was lead guitarist of certainly aided in that status, but in truth he was just that likeable, that talented, that handsome. He would find himself denying it when complimented, diverting the praise somewhere else, holding on to what little humility a guy that appealing could have. The sort of person who would spend his weekends helping the homeless or saving cats from trees, all while keeping up with his schoolwork, a meticulous work out routine and band practice.
And yet he still couldn’t convince the girl he liked to go out with him.
“Morning, pendejo.” As the school bell rung one colder-then-usual December morning, Luke was greeted by the familiar term of endearment from his locker neighbour and Julie Molina’s older cousin, Y/N. A senior, like he was, and his bandmate’s closest confidante, Y/N and Luke had been acquainted for their entire childhoods, and ‘friends’ for perhaps seven months out of fifteen plus years. They had gone through grade school together, just like Luke had with Alex, and later on Reggie when he moved to LA, lived down the street from one another, ran in similar social circles for the majority of high school.
That wasn’t to say they were actually friends, quite the opposite in fact. Their mutual of Julie forced upon them each other’s company, despite the very blatant truth everyone but Luke’s lead singer and Y/N’s prima pequeña was unaware of:
Luke and Y/N were too competitive to ever get along.
In the same way that Luke lit up rooms with his smile and charmed the socks off of every person he met, Y/N did the same. Call it her adoptive mother’s perfectionist agenda, her own high expectations, or simple happenstance, Y/N Pedraz was the sort of person whose only obstacle was her own mind. The sort of person who had the brightest stars in her eyes and the sweetest symphonies in her laughter, with a brain as sharp as her wit and extensive vocabulary to offend someone in three separate languages; she was the girl with the wall of blue ribbons and the report card with straight As, the girl who, alongside her aunt, taught Julie piano.
The girl Luke had been in love with since 6th grade.
“Idiota? Are you even listening?” Luke was snapped from his thoughts to look back down at the girl stood beside him, watching him with a raised eyebrow as he tried to form enough saliva in his mouth, that had suddenly become very dry, in hopes of responding. After a few seconds of no luck, Y/N smiled and shook her head. “Not wasting your breath on me, how sweet. Julie wants you and the guys to come to mine for band practice. Something about the studio roof having a hole in it and people coming to fix it, and my mom is on her holiday detox cruise until the New Year so the only person you’ll be disturbing is me!” The chipper tone of voice was laced in sarcasm, and Luke couldn’t help but role his eyes at her, to which she scoffed. “Since I’m doing you the favour, Mr Rockstar, you should maybe be nicer to me.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you Princess?” Luke finally found his words, calmed his heart beat, and dressed his face with a cheeky smirk as he closed over his locker and leant back against the cool blue metal. “But if we were nice to each other, who would hate us?” He posed the question, earning a soft smile from the girl, a victory in his book. It wasn’t often he got a genuine smile out of her.
“The problems with being perfect, Patterson.” She collected her books and closed over her own door, spinning on her sneaker heel with a flip of her hair. “Hasta luego, guapo.” She called back to Luke, making her way towards her next class as the second bell of the day rang, and Luke muttered a soft ‘shit’ as he started in a sprint towards his first class on the other side of the school.
He managed to cross the doorway of his English class just as the bell rang, sending a wink and grin to his teacher Madame Monroe, who was so old people were convinced she immortal, and taking his seat at the back of the class with a sigh of relief, busying himself with pulling out their current reading piece and notepad.
“Hey man-” he started to whisper as he looked to his left, only to find Alex already holding out a pencil to him, the pair sharing a smile. “Thanks.”
“I’m guessing the Queen ambushed you, that’s why you’re late?” Reggie asked from his right, Monroe calling on some of the lacrosse players to wheel in the old tv stand: the end of term had some benefits, at least, and the class in unison tidied away their books for the period.
“We’re supposed to head to her place after school, band practice, Julie’s orders.” Luke explained in a low enough voice that Monroe’s limited hearing wouldn’t catch.
“She told me this morning.” Alex agreed, his friends looking over. “What? Student Council happens before school, we were both here early.” He muttered, folding his arms and slouching a little in his seat. “Besides, I like her. I know Luke doesn’t but I do.” Alex took a moment before defending himself, gesturing to the band’s guitarist with a sickly sweet smile. “She’s you, but a little less irritating.”
“Hey!” Reggie interjected, to what Luke hoped was a counter attack. “Y/N is extremely less irritating.” Reggie corrected to the chuckles of himself and Alex, and the groans of Luke stuck in the middle. “You know she got me a Christmas present last week? When was the last time I got one of those from you, Luke?”
“Can it Peters, you know I’m broke.” Luke punched his friend’s arm playfully, and the conversation ended as some VHS b-rated movie started to play, leaving Luke to sit with himself, and wonder just how he was meant to focus on band practice that night in Y/N’s house.
The rest of the day passed in a blur of Christmas movies and idle chatter about their upcoming gig, and with the end of the school day, Alex, Reggie and Luke made their way towards the Pedraz house. Julie’s Tía’s house was only a few street south of the Molina residence. The neighbourhood was lovely: the houses were a little bigger, the lawns a little greener, the air a little sweeter, but as the three friends made their way over from school that evening, the sun already setting as half past four closed in on them, they were more than aware that the Christmas decorations weren’t the only artificial thing on the street.
Everything about the place was almost too perfect: the comforts and mess and the smell of chocolate that seemed to constantly circulate over the Molina home was lost to the Pedraz residence on Mercer Drive: Alex knew, his parents developed the area. There was no room for gum on the sidewalks or dry patches of grass, not a soccer ball or trampoline or anything fun in sight. The holiday décor was simple Christmas lights, all the same colour, all the same icicle effect design in a bright white-blue to match alongside the greyscale housing. Every inch of the Mercer development looked the same, almost like a movie set for one of those new Netflix movies, and it was almost disturbing.
Almost: because just as the three boys arrived at their destination, they spotted the only house on the row with paper snowflakes in the window and a snowman sat by the door; the only house, it seemed, to have anyone under the age of fifty living in it.
“You found it!” The cry came as the front door swung open, Julie rushing over and hugging each of the boys in greeting, careful to avoid the guitars Luke and Reggie had strapped to their backs, before taking Alex by the arm and leading him inside, towards that same Molina smell of chocolate that wafted from the house. “Hurry up, Y/N made cookies.” She added, talking to Reggie and Luke, the former wasting no time in rushing into the home and kicking off his shoes.
Luke found himself paused, what his friends believed to be his reluctance to enter the home was actually his taking a moment to examine: to notice the wreath on the doorway that was sprinkled in a coat of glitter; or the way each of the snowflakes in the front room window were cut with perfectly straight lines despite the intricate patterns; how beyond the blinds he could see the flickering Christmas tree lights.
“You coming in or what?” It was the second time that day Y/N caught Luke off guard, Luke following the sound of her voice to her frame in the doorway, arms folded over a white slip dress, paired with a deep green turtleneck under it, and white fluffy slippers. Her hair was tied up, a messy bun atop her head, that did little to make her appear taller. “You’re letting out the heat, Patterson.”
“Really? With how cold your personality is, I assumed your house was some sort of modern day ice palace.” Luke quipped back, making his way up the front lawn’s path and onto the little porch. Y/N seemed hesitant to let him in, almost as hesitant as he was to enter: he had never been to her house before, this was new territory. Their common ground at the Molinas was the limit of their out-of-school socialisation. “You look really nice in, uh, the dress is…” Luke started, in hopes of relieving the tension.
“Don’t strain yourself.” Y/N seemed to concede, walking back into her house and, by association, allowing Luke to follow her in and close over the door. He followed her straight to the kitchen, where Julie was sat on a counter while Alex and Reggie dug into the fresh baked cookies. “You can you the front room, there’s another batch of cookies in the oven that need to come out in seven minutes.” Y/N began to explain to the band, Reggie pausing the shoving of sweet treats into his mouth for a moment to listen. “There’s juice in the fridge, if you need anything urgent I’ll be in my room. Upstairs, second door on the right.” She informed, walking over and letting Julie latch onto her, forcing the girl into a hug from her little cousin.
“Don’t you want to stay and listen? We’re pretty good, you know.” Julie gave her best puppy dog eyes, and Luke couldn’t help but smile as he watched Y/N pinch the singer’s cheeks.
“I know you’re good, but someone has to plan the fundraiser you’re performing at.” Y/N reminded. As a member of the Student Council, and an upstanding citizen in general, she had been asked to assist in organising the community Christmas Concert, a concert she had also gotten her little cousin’s band on the set list for. “Besides, I like surprises.” She assured, picking up a cookie from the cooling rack and taking a bite as she headed upstairs, leaving the four friends to their own devices.
--
“Luke, come on man, what is going on with you today?” Alex asked, hours later, as the four sat at Julie’s kitchen table, pizza for dinner. Their rehearsal that had had been far from great, Luke had barely been responsive half the time, and when Ray called Julie about ordering pizza for the guys and her, ending their rehearsal and sending them back up the street of Julie’s house, their was plenty left to be desired.
“The last time you played that bad was the stomach flu of ’15.” Reggie added, his eyes widening. “Dude you better not be sick.”
“I’m not, I’m fine… It’s…” Luke sighed, taking another bite of his pepperoni slice, his brows furrowed. He didn’t know what was going on with him: if it was because of Y/N and being in her house and knowing she was around, or something else entirely, but the guys were right.
He had never played worse.
“Do you really dislike her that much?” It was just that asked the question, Luke looking across the table at his bandmate, perhaps his closest friend, only to see her looking back at him with sad eyes and a deep frown herself.
“Jules-” Luke started, but she cut him off.
“I know she can be stubborn and I know she can be a little overbearing at times, but I just thought if you guys spent more time together, got to know each other, you might get along?” Julie began, setting down her pizza and beginning to pace the kitchen floor like she often did when stressed out. She took a deep breath, her voice shaky as she started up again. “She can be an asshole sometimes, sure, but she got us the Christmas Concert gig, she suggests us to play every school event, she’s my cousin Luke! And I know you two don’t always see eye to eye on stuff because you’re competitive, or whatever, but can’t you just try and be-”
“I’m in love with her.”
Julie stopped pacing then, turning to look over at Luke as he sat at the end of the table, his head hung low as his hands rake through his hair.
“That’s not funny, Luke.”
“Good. It’s not a joke.” He responded, looking up at his friends with a pained smile, letting out a short, cold laugh. “I’m in love with Y/N, I’ve been in love with her for six years… Give or take.” He confessed to it, finally, and was greeted by the most confused expressions on his friends’ faces.
“But you hate each other!” Reggie exclaimed; of the opinion he was stating the obvious. “You fight with Y/N more than Flynn fights with Carrie, you compete against her at everything, you spend more time complaining about her than anyone else you know and you know me. And Carrie! This has to be some sort of joke, man, I mean-”
“You’ve proven to the entire world you’re incompatible, both of you. Like, if ever there were two people who despised each other more, who made the effort to despise each other more…” Alex trailed off, baffled, her and Reggie both so shocked that they turned to Julie for answers.
She stood at the end of the table, arms folded just like Y/N did, her eyes narrow as she examined Luke, watching his reactions to his friends’ words. How he screwed up his nose at the mention of their shared rival of Carrie Wilson, the way he smiled like Reggie’s ranting invoked fond memories, the shift to a frown when Alex mentioned ‘incompatibility’.
“He’s telling the truth.” Julie decided, Luke’s eyes locking with hers, her face softening as his was painted by surprise. He hadn’t expected her to back him up, but then again he hadn’t expected to tell them about his dilemma either.
“He is?” Reggie whispered, and Julie nodded, confirming her statement. “But… But how? When?”
“She beat me in the school talent show… Sixth grade.” Luke said softly, the memory one he held dear, at least that was what his smile told his friends. “I fucked up and messed up my chord progressions at the end of my guitar piece… And she came on stage and just sang her heart out.”
“If I remember correctly, that happened and then you put pudding into her gym shoes as revenge.” Alex added, still not totally convinced.
“I just took credit for that one… It was actually Dorothy Matthews.”
“That makes sense, she was a mean kid.” Reggie agreed with a nod of the head and an accompanying shiver. “And five inches taller than me for all of middle school.”
“She was really tall, wasn’t she?” Luke agreed, the pair sharing a laugh as Julie and Alex watched on.
“Of topic, guys!” Alex snapped after a moment, the room falling silent as the blonde though over his next words. “So, you’re in love with Y/N, have been for years… And why haven’t you just asked her out?” The question had the conversation back on topic, all eyes on the brown haired boy as he chuckled to himself.
“I have. Multiple times. But it always went wrong or she misunderstood and thought I was joking, and at some point I just gave up trying.” He shrugged, letting out a sigh of defeat that had Julie rolling her eyes.
“You’re a fucking idiot, Patterson.” She said with a smirk. “A complete and absolute fucking idiot.”
“That’s not very nice.” Luke pouted. “Can’t you all just feel sorry about my unrequited love life and forgive me for sucking today?”
“Alex, who do we often refer to as ‘Luke’s female equivalent’?”
“Uh… Y/N?”
“And Reggie, if we know how Luke reacts when he likes someone, would it be safe to assume that Y/N might react in the same way?”
“You mean how Luke has no idea how to ask a girl out and instead teased her for half a decade? Oh, definitely.”
“So… Maybe, Luke, you’ve been so blinded by your assumed rejection that you haven’t noticed that maybe, just maybe, my cousin is also in love with you?” Julie posed the suggestion, and Luke sat up straight.
“That’s insane.”
“Is it though? Alex already said you both were so persistent in showing you despised each other. Maybe, I dunno, she loves you too and doesn’t think you even like her because you do shit like put pudding in her gym shoes!”
“That was Dorothy Matthews!”
“Y/N doesn’t know that!” Julie exclaimed, and Luke fell silent.
It was minutely plausible, the line of reasoning Julie gave, but a part of him couldn’t believe it even though he wanted to. Y/N was perfect; she always had been perfect, and Luke was a musician really considering dropping out of high school before the year was out. How would someone like her… Why would someone like her even think to care about someone like him?
“You know, I feel like now is where we make the big plan, get those lovebirds together, then celebrate by playing the best show ever at the concert, right?” Reggie spoke up through a mouthful of pizza, the four sharing glances.
“It won’t work.” Luke insisted.
“And what if it does?” Julie countered, smiling over at him. “Luke, if you’re so insistent then let me and the guys handle it. You just need to show up somewhere the night before the concert, ok?” She proposed, with an eagerly nodding Reggie on her right and a still perplexed Alex to her left. “Worse comes to worst, we can perform a Mariah Carey cover without you and say you’re sick or something.”
--
It was the last thing Y/N needed, really it was. Julie’s name flashing up on her phone the night before the Christmas Concert, the voice urgent down the phone as she begged her to head home, that Julie would meet her there. It wasn’t like she could say no to her baby cousin in distress, far from it: she would be more than willing to punch the daylight out of whoever had hurt her Jules.
That was what Julie had been betting on, of course, and Y/N arrived home from the mall that evening to find her front door open and a note on her porch.
She rushed over, her brain scrambling to figure out just how to tell her Uncle Ray that Julie had been kidnapped, grabbing the note from the floor and tearing it open:
I’m fine, you’ll thank me later.
                            Julie xx
“Dios mio…” Y/N muttered: her relief integrated with annoyance. Of course her cousin had planned something to get her away from her responsibilities. A glance at her watch, and Y/N realised getting back to the mall in time that night before it closed wouldn’t be a possibility.
That’s when music started to play from inside the house.
“Is this some kind of joke?” She called into her house, noticing for the first time that candles that lit up the hallway in a trail towards her kitchen. They bathed her home in a warm glow, one far more welcoming than the chilly breeze from outside. And with nothing better to do, and curiosity peaked, Y/N stepped inside, closed the front door behind her and followed the trail.
“No joke, I’m afraid… I was just as shocked as you were.” The voice that greeted wasn’t the one Y/N expected: but then, no-one really expected Luke Patterson of all people to be standing in their kitchen, beside what seemed to be a candlelit dinner for two sat on the dining table. “Hi.”
“Hi.”
“You hungry?” Luke asked with a nervous chuckle, one that Y/N reciprocated. She was safe to say slightly confused, but she had no intention to refuse.
“Starving.” She smiled in response, one of those genuine smiles Luke always liked to see on her face, and Luke pulled out a chair for her to sit down. She accepted, taking a seat and quickly taking her hair out of it’s ponytail when Luke turned around to fetch a bottle of grape soda from the counter.
“Clearly none of our friends have fake IDs, so please pretend it’s alcoholic.” Luke apologised, but the words had Y/N giggling as he poured her ‘wine’ to accompany the pasta dishes that sat before the pair.
“I’m assuming Julie devised some sort of elaborate scheme to make us friends or something?” Y/N asked, and Luke scratched at the back of his neck, the dread already building in his stomach.
“Sort of, yeah.”
“Sort of?” Y/N asked, her brows furrowing as she waited on Luke’s explanation. He quickly picked up the bottle again with a shaky hand, clearly not the best of ideas, since the pouring of red grape soda into his wine glass soon turned to the toppling of said glass and the liquid spreading across the table.
“Shit!” Luke exclaimed, jumping up and surveying the mess he had made, opting to pull of his shirt in a split second decision to try and mop up the juice before it hit the grey carpets below. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I swear to God I’m not usually this uncoordinated.” He rambled, managing to mop up the juice without getting any on the carpet. His eyes moved up, to check in on the silent Y/N, who sat with clasped hands and wide eyes. “Fuck…”
“You’re shirtless…” She muttered, doing her best to look anywhere but Luke’s naked chest and abdomen.
“I am.” Luke agreed, watching the reaction with interest. H wondered for a moment, trying to assess whether she was being respectful of his body and not looking out of simple decency, or if she was embarrassed by the situation for him, or something else. “Y/N?
“Uh huh?”
“Want to tell me where the laundry room is?” He asked, holding back a laugh when she darted up and rushed towards the utility room at the back of the house, beckoning him to follow, grape soda soaked shirt in hand.
Y/N was quick to turn on the light and busy herself setting up the washing machine, seeming glad to have something to do from Luke’s perspective. When she held out a hand for the shirt, he passed it over, crossing to the sink to wash the stick of the soda from his digits as Y/N messed with wash settings.
“It’s uh… It’s just me and mom… I don’t really have clothes you could change into.” Y/N muttered, coming over to the sink to wash her hands free of grape soda too.
“That’s fine.” Luke responded, and physically felt Y/N tense beside him for a moment. “I mean, the wash will take an hour, drying another… Two hours isn’t so long.”
“Two hours is long enough.” Y/N retorted drying her hands and making a quick beeline for the door. A hand caught her arm, stopping her in her tracks.
“Why so edgy, Princess?” Luke asked, unable to find it in himself not to tease the clearly wound up Y/N.
“None of your business.” She responded, looking him in the eye before wrenching her arm free and starting from the main floor of the house.
“I mean, I just want to know what I did wrong, Y/N.” He pleaded, sarcastic in tone, watching Y/N march and efficiently blow out the candles that lit up the kitchen and hallway. He wasn’t sure if it was the adrenaline from just being around her, or that fact he was just dumb enough to try it, but when Y/N finished blowing the candles out at the front door, Luke took his chance and pinned her in when she stood up.
“Let me go.” She demanded, keeping her chin high and a level head, here eyes locked with his. Had Luke not been more interested in answers, he would have lost himself in those eyes.
“Not until you answer my question. We’ll call it my Christmas present, since I know you got Reggie and Alex something.” Luke replied with a shit-eating grin, one hand coming to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “So, why so edgy, Princess?”
“Like I’d tell you, asshole.”
“Was it the food? The candles? You don’t like grape juice!” The incorrect guesses, the implied teasing, there was only so much Y/N could handle before she lost her temper.
“I don’t like you! I don’t like you appearing out of nowhere in my house and making dinner and having fire hazards everywhere! I don’t like you mopping up soda with your shirt and acting like you being shirtless is no big deal when it is! It really is…” She trailed off for a second, snapping back from whatever memory flashed before her eyes. “I don’t like you so close to me either! I should have you arrested for trespassing and indecent exposure, Patterson.”
“You wouldn’t do that.”
“And why not?”
“Because if you really didn’t want me this close to you, you would have punched me in the face by now.” Luke chuckled. “Everyone knows after Bradley Jacobs in sophomore year that you have a mean left hook.” He reminded her of the time she punched the kids making sexist comments: she had charmed her way out of suspension.
“You’re meant to be performing in my Christmas show tomorrow, I’d prefer you not to have a black eye.” The excuse was weak, they both knew it. A silence filled the air as they stood close, somewhere between fear and tension, of what kind Y/N didn’t want to admit. “Stop being an asshole, Luke. It’s not fair.”
“What isn’t?” He teased further.
“To do this when you don’t even like me.” She whispered, her eyes closing as she let out a shaky breath, only for them to open in surprise when a set of lips met hers. Luke took the chance, of course he did, and he was glad he did. The taste of her strawberry chapstick was like heaven, the kiss sweet and gentle and chaste. He moved himself back, adding to the space between them as Y/N leant back against the door, her pupils blown.
“Y/N?” He asked, checking in, trying to figure out if he’d be getting the same reward as Bradley Jacobs for his actions. Her name being said shook off the daze she was in, Y/N looking up at Luke, rather apprehensive, stood shirtless in her hallway after he had just kissed her out of nowhere.
“Why… Why didn’t you do that sooner?” She asked, quietly, a smile and giggle coming to her lips as they looked at one another, catching Luke by pleasant surprise.
“I didn’t think you liked me.”
“Didn’t think- Luke I asked you out two weeks ago and you said no!” She exclaimed through her laughter, another wave of giggles hitting her when Luke’s mouth formed into an ‘o’.
“The library trip…” He realised, letting himself laugh too. “I mean, you really weren’t specific, and you’ve rejected me too you know.” He replied, the smile settling on his face one that wouldn’t go away anytime soon.
Especially not when Y/N closed the space between them and pressed her lips to his.
With the realisation of their stupidity, a sudden desperation added itself to the equation. There was time to make up, actions to apologise for, tension to finally put to use, and neither were planning on stopping until they had won. The kissed turned hungry, tongues clashing as Luke’s hands came down to Y/N’s thighs and lifted her into his arms, starting the climb up the stairway to the top floor of the house.
Y/N wasn’t sure how Luke knew where her room was, she wasn’t sure if what she was doing would backfire on her in some way, but frankly, she didn’t care. As Luke’s hands melted against her body, pulling off her shirt as they fell to the bed, all she wanted was him. His lips moved from hers to her neck, nipping at the skin softly as he hands worked off her skirt, and Y/N’s worked on unbuckling his belt.
They were both in their underwear in a few moments, breathing heavy and looking at one another: Y/N laid back on the bed, Luke sat back on his heels at the end of the bed.
“Do you-”
“Yes.” Y/N replied before Luke had a chance to finish the question. “Do you?”
“God yes.” He agreed, moving up her body and pressing kisses against her skin, goosebumps forming wherever his cold lips hit. When his kisses reached her underwear, his hands wrapped around the flimsy lace material and pulled them off, the kisses continuing on the insides of her thighs.
“Jesus Luke, haven’t we teased each other enough?” Y/N cursed, the words coming out as a moan. It was a sound Luke had wanted to hear her make for so long, he had to put effort into not losing himself right then and there.
“Fair enough.” He conceded, taking no further hesitation in pressing his fingers against her damp core and his tongue to her clit.
Y/N found it hard to control the noises that left her mouth as Luke got to work pleasuring her, his fingers moving at a rapid and steady pace as his tongue teased her sensitivity, the curl of his fingers to her sweet spot only added on by the pressured of his tongue. She did her best to hold back, to quieten down, but in response Luke’s touch disappeared.
“I want to hear you, Princess.” He grinned, moving up the bed and taking her hands into one of his, placing them above her head. “Keep them there.” He ordered, and while Y/N was far from someone who took orders from anyone ever, if it meant Luke’s tongue would be back on her heat, she was happy to do just about anything he said.
As his tongue went back to her core, Y/N didn’t hold back on her moans. She’d thought about the exact event happening at least twice before, but had never pictured Luke at being so good with his mouth. It made sense logically, as a singer his mouth was his weapon, and… Her brain wiped clean as another moan escaped her, pressure building in the pit of her stomach.
“Fuck, Luke…” She whimpered, her back arching, her head falling back into the pillows.
“Cum for me.” Luke spoke in a low voice; his smirk ever present as his fingers took Y/N over the edge into euphoria. It was waves, the feeling a pure pleasure falling over her body, sending her legs trembling as Luke helped her ride out the high. He only moved once he was certain she had completed, slipping his fingers from her core as he leant over the bed, lifting up his jeans to find Y/N resting on her elbows, an eyebrow raised.
“What?” Luke asked as he retrieved the condom from his jean pocket. “A man’s got to be prepared.”
“You really thought I was that easy?” Y/N asked with a grin and she took the package from him and tore it open, taking her time to pump his shaft before rolling on the protection.
“Not that easy in general, no… But I can be…” Luke spoke and Y/N’s lay back and he lined himself up with her entrance, a twinkle in his eye as he pushed himself inside her and spoke. “Persuasive.” The moan elicited from Y/N seemed to prove his theory.
His movements were slow and gentle at first, both of them taking the time to get accustomed to one another, but with a nod from Y/N for Luke to continue, he took control. The pace became fast, thrusts powerful and deep, Luke making sure Y/N wouldn’t be forgetting the feeling of him inside her any time soon. His hands pinned down hers, pressing Y/N down into the bed as he pounded into her, relentless, both chasing their highs.
Y/N rolled her hips in time with Luke, earning groans from the man on top of her, taking the moment of weakness to flip them over, her hands now pining down Luke’s as he lay back on the bed, his face clearly stunned by the move she had pulled, though it didn’t last long. His eyes screwed shut as he let out a groan, his head rolling back at the feeling of Y/N riding his cock, each roll of the hips casting moans from their mouths.
“I’m close…” Luke muttered, looking up to see Y/N somewhere near completion as well. Her hands on his did little to combat his strength, taking control once more to grabbed Y/N’s thighs, thrusting upwards into her a rapid speed for them both to reach their highs through a strings of curses and cries of pleasure.
Y/N let herself fall limp on top of Luke as they both caught their breath, their chests rising and falling in time with one another.
“Well…” Y/N spoke first, biting her lip as she lifted herself off of Luke, giving him a chance to bin the condom. “That was…”
“The best Christmas present ever.” Luke whispered as they lay side by side on Y/N’s bed, the words sending them both into fits of laughter, ones Luke quelled by kissing Y/N gently.
“Yeah. Agreed.”
--
Tags:  @reggiesleatherjacket @parkeret @calamitykaty @crybabyddl @delicatelukepatterson @lukespatterson @kcd15 @siennanoelle01 @eries45 @lolychu @lazydaisy19 @reggieandthereggies @writerinlearning @mjflower @uhmitstori @walkingonshunshine @kristencoontz @vicesvsvirtuesfanfic @ritz-hell-hotel @mishappend @dovegranger @dmcfarland1 @cherrymaybank @oswinsleaf​ @only-here-for-jatp​ @jatpfan99​ @n0wornever​ @bookdealer5 @epikskool  @thesweetestsinner @fangirlangioma @moviesbooksandfandoms @ohyoureaqueenbutuncrowned @saroo-hawks @charliessunset @bigdesi @avngrsinitiative @emotionalbruv  @korydickson @uglypeachh @rogersangel @independentgirl @mon-charmante @writingforphantoms @musicconversedance  @heimdoodle​ @-episkey-  @obxmermaid​ @sunsetcurvenotsunsetswerve @simp4madi @aliciameix​ @kinda-just-chillin-here @blueyed-one @ghostlyb1tch @leahstypewriter @parkeret​ @lukereggies​ @hologramband​ @all-in-fangirl​ @daisiesforlacey​ @valntynegillespie​ @lukespaterson​ @dovesgrangers​ @sunsetswerve​ @sorryimricki​ @dani27297​ @talksoprettyjjx​ @imsydneywalker​ @katie-navarro​ @aydoubleu​ @kaitieskidmore1​ @magnet-girl​ @axen-gers​ @dpaccione​ @mjrsposts​ @starswereherspotlight​ @g7aesthetic​
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qvnthesia · 2 years
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Kk, so, I'm wondering what your thoughts are on Klamille?
Klaus and Camille, god, they are such a wonderful pair that I need to control myself from screaming.
First off, Klaus is a HUGE romantic. He pulls all the stops, and the smooth one-liners, EXCUSE ME MISTER ORIGINAL HYBRID WE HAVE HEARTS AND YOU ARE BREAKING IT SIR—
Anyway, Klaus and Camille have something that I would call precious because, the thing is, Klaus was attracted to a freaking human. We all need to take a minute to digest that. His entire life, he has come to have a strong disregard for human life. I mean, he killed humans for sport, slaughtered freaking villages. But here we got a bartender. A daring woman who's smart and can stand up for herself. For three seasons, which I'll be taking as three years, he fucking went back and forth about his feelings for a woman, a human.
This duo is precious because there's no one else like them. They are very much rare. Camille has never tried to change Klaus, she has simply tried to push Klaus into bringing out the goodness that has long been buried deep inside of him. Klaus changed all by himself, neither Camille nor Caroline changed him. The two women simply brought out the goodness in him, but it was Camille O'Connell that gave Klaus the push to consider being good.
Camille also wanted to get to know Klaus. At first, yes, because she was his therapist, but when she got to the part where her feelings were in massive turmoil, she wanted to get to know him even better. This interest, just to get to know him with all of her innocence and zero thoughts or motives to scheme, is what got Klaus in turn wanting to get to know her. And after that, he wanted to protect her from the horrors of the supernatural world because he's got more than a thousand years of experience on his resume.
It's also her name. Camille. Klaus mostly calls her 'Camille' and it is so beautiful to hear that from him because it shows whenever he talks to a person, he judges them fully head to toe and always arrives at the conclusion in a hurry before going over all the facts one-by-one.
If you want to make a couple a hit for the fans, you need to prove them as something to live for. Stelena, Delena, Bonenzo, Steroline, Klaroline, Haylijah, Marbekah, Freelin, Barolena, Beklena, Klefan, all these ships and so many more, they made the audience something to live and root for. Friendship, funny quips, sarcasm, dark humour, pure love, all these ships had something that kept them alive. Klamille, I feel, had all of them. That's what makes them quite an adversary. They are truly practically something to live for.
I watched TVD and then I watched TO. I wanted to try and root for Klamille because I like to have an open mind with regard to shipping characters. At first, I really wasn't bought by Klamille. I always saw Camille as a character on the show only meant to be Klaus's love interest. But I saw them develop. I saw them go back and forth. I saw them exchange banter and bicker. I saw them cry and l saw them laugh. I saw them discuss and I saw them argue. And finally, in S3, they kissed! But then her throat got slit and she got stripped off of her humanity. She became a vampire and started to adjust. But then Lucien bit her! And she died after spending a wonderful day with Klaus and being surrounded by the love of the people she came to call her family.
Like I said, Klamille failed to woo me. Until I heard this.
"I will carry you with me forever." "I guess that makes me immortal."
Do you see it? Camille, a freaking human turned vampire, is about to die. Klaus tells her he will carry her with him forever. That, by extension, makes her an immortal because dead or alive, Klaus Mikaelson's legacy will always live on. It will never die, neither will Camille. Klaus is a cockroach that will never die no matter what, and well, he carries Camille with him, making her the true immortal of his life. This shows that their love transcends the boundaries, the limits, of our imagination. And that, my fellow hoomans, is true love.
I'm calling Klamille 'true love' because when you talk about epic love, you call that love 'epic' because it looks and feels so good that it comes to the point of perfection. That's not what love is. It's imperfect and it's the imperfection that makes it real. Love's all about reality, you don't stick for fakes. Hence, true love.
As much as I'd like to support this ship, something else already got to my heart before Klamille could have even gotten a chance to wager a claim on it.
"He's your first love. I intend to be your last."
I honestly don't know how Caroline managed to keep her cool because if I would've been in her shoes, I would've jumped on him and given him such a big hug and maybe even kissed Klaus but you did not hear that from me but I'm sorry folks, Klaroline's the ship for me, although after writing this meesa might have to consider me loyalties. But that doesn't mean I hate Klamille. I truly love them as well. I just prefer Klaroline more over Klamille.
Thank you for all your wonderful questions! As always, my inbox is open for more <33
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