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asirensrage · 1 year

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Mise en Place - A "choose your own adventure" style fic - Part 1

Fandom: Punisher AU Rating: Likely Explicit. Pairing: Billy Russo x OC Warnings: Dark!Fic, threats, murder, obsession, swearing, and likely more to be added... Summary: Nadine thought her biggest problem was helping to keep the restaurant she worked at afloat as the neighbourhood starts being bought out from under them. A chance meeting in an elevator with an old fling proves differently…

Notes: And so, we begin! Heed the warnings! This chapter is not rated explicit but others will be.

If there was one word to describe herself lately, Nadine would say it’s exhausted.

Her day had been filled with deliveries that were improperly made, a sous chef quitting without notice, and at least one customer who wanted to argue with her over their order. Honestly, she just wants to go home, open a bottle of wine and then crawl into bed.

She presses the button to call the elevator, glancing at another sign informing the occupants that there will be another change made to the building. Since the ownership changeover, they’ve been making multiple improvements. Luckily none of it seemed to involve raising the rent. Yet.

The doors open and she slips in. There’s someone already there, coming up from the parking lot. Of course, it’s her luck that when she’s covered in grease, food splatters and sweat, rocking second day hair that she runs into him again.

Billy is standing there, in a well-pressed suit and smelling better than any man has a right to. It’s been enough of a day that she doesn’t even bother looking at him. They hooked up a few times, back when things weren’t so hectic. It was fantastic but both of them had their lives and she had no intention to tie herself down. Not when she’s trying to keep this restaurant alive when everything else around them keeps failing and being bought out.

He doesn’t greet her, too busy texting. It’s not a surprise. His work always had his attention first. It’s part of why they fit so well together. The button for their floor is already pressed so she leans against the wall and waits. Her eyes close and she tries to hold back a yawn. She can practically feel the comfort of her bed waiting for her. She just has to get to it.

She peeks out at the man in the elevator with her. It really was unfair that he looks as good as does. Him and his perfect suits, bright ties and… She pauses. Her eyes narrow as she realizes what she’s seeing. There is blood on his clothes. She glances up and sees more blood splattered against his hands. She looks at his face…and finds him staring back at her.

mise en place tag: @muchadoaboutcj billy russo tag: @wheresthesunshinesblog

general tag: @raith-way @arrthurpendragon @veetlegeuse @chickensarentcheap @residentdormouse @endless-oc-creations @stanshollaand @wordspin-shares @chrissymunson

#ridea's choose your own adventure #make a choice fic #fic: mise en place #billy russo x oc #mafia!billy russo #oc: nadine #dark!fic #dark fic #long post

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shadowbends · 1 year

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Looking through your Ao3 bookmarks and seeing that little “This has been deleted, sorry!” is like finding a gravestone, but the writing’s too worn down to read what it was standing for anymore.

What were you, Bookmark #336... What stories did you tell? Which words were it that once left a mark on my soul? *touches my laptop screen like it’s text from an ancient ruin*

Cowabummer.

#/wails dramatically #I joke to cope #BUT MAN #I hate when this happens #:c #I respect an author's choice to delete #but it's always a bummer coming across evidence of a deleted fic #and not knowing what it was #I gotta start making use of the notes section on ao3 more #fanfiction #pi says things

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hotpotghosts · 25 days

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#chilaios #succubus!chilchuck #dungeon meshi spoilers #only bc I’m about to yell in my own tags about the succubus chapter #idk something about laios’ choking succubus marcille and immediately panicking and without hesitation thinking that he has to kill her #before anyone sees is just yeah I can blend that up into chilaios yeah #like yeah what if the succubus’ choice of person was dead on #they DO say they read the minds of the person to create their max desire and marcilles elf prince one talking + laios’ having monster #knowledge means that i can make succubus!chil a lil mean as a treat bc he knows laios is into chil #also i think it’s unclear here but I think it’d be neat if the succubus have insect eye reflection givin them that lil non human touch #maybe I’ll draw something making that more clear later #ALSO idk what to tag this yall do people use tumblr tags to filter content or would putting warning tags on this just make it breach #containment? if anyone wants anything tagged specifically in the future just drop me an ask i guess #also I’m going to write this as fic I swear but drawing is so much faster #ghostmakestuff

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casdeans-pie · 3 months

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The first time Castiel heard the phrase to 'kiss something better' he thought it sounded like a ridiculous notion.

How could a kiss heal a wound? Kisses held no magic. No power.

But Castiel found the phrase drifting back to him while he looked at Dean, hissing with pain as he wiped blood away from his grazed skin.

(Dean insisted on wearing jeans with useless intentional rips on the knees, so it felt inevitable that he would eventually scuff the skin there.) (Castiel had even told him so.) (Dean had told him to stop being such a nag.)

Strange how Castiel knew that there were no mystical properties to a kiss, and yet now it was all he could think about. He could sink to his knees and place his lips directly over the wound, letting his grace knit the flesh below. Or... he could grab a fistful of Dean's flannel and crush his lips to Castiel's own, walking them backwards until they hit the wall, bodies lined up, grace pouring in through their joined lips to thread down Dean's body to the injury and-

"Hey, Cas? You okay there, buddy?" Dean said, snapping Castiel out of his thoughts. His lips pulled up into a playful grin that actively grew as Castiel huffed and narrowed his eyes. "Y'kinda giving me a look like you might smite me or eat me."

"Your jeans are impractical," Castiel snapped in a deep rumble. He prodded Dean in the forehead with two fingertips - felt his grace seal the injury instantly - and disappeared with a hard flap of wings.

#once again I am writing fic instead of sleeping. making all the good and sensible life choices asdjklklfj #Deans just sitting there injured while Cas is having a full gay crisis #destiel #destiel ficlet #castiel #pie's projects #destiel fanfic

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eggcats · 2 months

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Making another post based on Alastor knowing everything that plays over his airwaves, but this time combining the radiohuskerdust and radioapple

Angel decides they need a Boys Night, and coerces Alastor, Husk, and Lucifer to join him in drinking and listening to music (aka Alastor)

Angel forces them all to (if not wear pajamas) to be SEVERELY dressed down, and is like if you're wearing too many layers, we're playing strip poker until you're not *glare* so they dont

So Angel is in like a crop top hoodie and low-rise shorts, Lucifer is definitely in some kind of duckie pajamas, Husk is basically in the same outfit except he swapped out the pants for sweatpants, and Alastor is in a loose button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up and the top buttons undone, and comfortable slacks

And as they're drinking, Angel keeps requesting more and more random and obscure songs for Alastor to play (Lucifer is greatly confused by this, but then eventually joins in because he's never seen Alastor so indulgent in something so stupid before, and it's fun)

Eventually Alastor gets drunk enough to start singing along to the songs, and after just a few more drinks he grabs Husk and makes him dance with him (he grabs Husk because they've known each other for years and have basically done this every time they get drunk together)

Husk is enjoying the attention, because while Alastor owns his soul and they do have tense moments, they have known each other for years and Husk does genuinely care about him (and he thinks there Could be something, if Alastor only let it)

(Alastor will not, because even with them becoming close over the years, he is Uncomfortably aware of the power difference, and as a mixed man from the 30s, that is a line he will NOT cross. Meeting Angel and his issues with Valentino only confirms this to himself.)

It's at this point that Alastor drops the transatlantic voice and starts slurring in his Louisiana Creole, and his radio static keeps dropping out for his real voice to come through (both Angel and Lucifer are shot dead, they didn't know this was a possibility and now they're going to be thinking about it forever. Husk is only safe because he's experienced this before)

Angel immediately has to join in with the dancing, because Hot Deer Daddy being drunk and playful??? He needs IN immediately.

Lucifer is having a crisis, he thought he had a handle on thinking Alastor was hot, but then he brought his TAIL and his ACCENT and his DANCING and he's flushed and giggly and. Oh no. Maybe Charlie IS going to have a second father after all???

Alastor eventually coerces Lucifer into dancing too by asking if he's a bad dancer, and if that's why he's still sitting. Lucifer, obviously, has to prove him wrong. (He doesn't, but it's worth it because Alastor giggles and grabs him to correct his form.)

All 3 of them revel in Alastor being much more genuine than normal (and the fact that not only is he touching them as they dance, he doesn't seem to mind when THEY touch HIM), and the fact that they get so see Alastor not only dressed down and drunk, but him relaxed and dancing with his face flushed (they all wish he didn't hate cameras or video because they wish they could keep this memory forever)

Eventually, they have to wind down and end up in a giant cuddle puddle on the floor, sleepover style

The next morning is about as awkward as you'd think, especially since somehow Lucifer fell asleep practically on top of Alastor, and Alastor himself is surrounded on both sides by Angel and Husk (which he could have handled if he was the first one to wake up so he could escape, but no, Charlie came downstairs and squealed so loud it woke up all 4 of them and made them come to terms to how they were cuddling each other. Hell.)

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queenofinys · 1 month

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"This is her curse. In each life she makes the best of a bad situation, finds love where anyone else would settle for icy tolerance, makes everything work for however long she has and every damn time it is taken away and- In the next life, she promises, in the next life she will do better."

from the fatal flaw that makes you long to be magnificently cursed by @electricbluebutterflies

#dune #duneedit #leto atreides #jessica atreides #lady jessica #leto x jessica #i do not know how to tag this but i had sooo much fun making it #go read the fic!!!! <3 <3 #if anyone can name the sources for all these scenes i will be VERY impressed #lowkey if you come into my inbox and list all the movies i'll make you a gifset of your choice lol #also fun fact the rebecca ferguson letterboxd set was a direct result of this #(aka i was like well i've already got all these scenes at the ready i might as well just finish it)#maya edits

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oh-katsuki · 5 months

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i haaate when I end up on fanfiction tiktok like get me away from here. “y/n shouldn’t have a backstory or a personality because then I can’t completely insert myself” OKAY! that’s fine actually because I’m writing a story for myself and it seems like you want a blank piece of paper. I will literally blow up this entire planet.

#the wayyyy they talk about people writing shit for free on there like it’s their RIGHT for it to cater exactly to them #is insane and makes me ANGRYYY #‘at that point.. reader is just an oc’ yeah… yeah they are sometimes #but guess what!!! you didn’t write it!!! and you’re getting to read it for free!! sit down!!!!#it is also literally impossible to write a fic with a story where reader doesn’t have a personality #because as SOON a reader has to make a choice or even say a single thing or hve a single thought…#it becomes an aspect or result of personality #discourse #<- just in case

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caliphoria17 · 1 year

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SimonDavisBarry: Ok folks, here’s the infamous scene 18 that we never shot. Comes before the running over water scene.

#“Takes a moment” to yearn perhaps Bea?#Half asleep Ava mumbling GOD WOULD’VE LOVED TO SEE THAT #Also: the domesticity of it all with Bea naturally being the one making breakfast #“(grins knowingly) We'll see about that.” Does anyone get a little bit of a gay vibe.gif #This also shows how much AB & KTY’s acting choices add so much to their scenes (eye contact/touch/maybe added dialogue)#👩🏻‍🍳’s 💋#Absolutely looking forward to fanfic writers and WN artists to reference this in their fics and art AHHH #Fanfic writers have been really accurate with their depictions though which is amazing #Warrior Nun #Avatrice #Warrior Nun edit #My edit

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rad-batson · 9 months

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Multiverse AU where different variants of Damian Wayne Al Ghul are accidentally hailed to one universe and Damian is in the middle, trying to get all of them back home, but it only gets worse and NOT for the reasons you would think.

So picture this: there’s a sea of Damian variants crowded into the Batcave. One’s a leader of the LOA. Another became the next Harley Quinn? One is a mute assassin. Another is Red Hood’s apprentice. One’s Batman. One’s a meta for some reason. Another is the leader of a revolution. One’s a monk. And another is a clone. They’re all somehow involved in vigilantism or the LOA.

And then there’s a completely normal one. He goes by Dami. He’s in college :) He works at an art studio. He’s got a heart condition. He has a boyfriend, and he has never been Robin before. In fact, he doesn’t even know his dad is Batman. So in a room full of wildly different versions, this Damian sticks out like a sore thumb. He’s like an NPC just standing in the middle of a final battle.

What he does know is that his mother, Talia, left the LOA with him when he was two because she fell in love with Bruce. Since then, the three have lived a Perfectly Normal Life as Perfectly Normal People in a moderately nice house in the suburbs of Gotham.

And you know what? No one questions it. Out of all the problems the Damians are having right now, Normal Damian is the least of them. So he just sits to the side, completely chill, and doesn’t interfere.

But then some chaos happens, the Damians are all sucked into a battle at some secondary location, Normal Dami is kidnapped, gets killed, and everyone’s super depressed about it. (Gosh, he was so nice. Why did it have to be him? Boo hoo. We didn’t even have time to recover the body.)

Until they head back to the cave…and there he is. Respawned. Alive. Confused.

He was literally dead on the floor two hours ago. They checked for a pulse! He bled out. Normal NPC Dami is supposed to be dead. But nope. He’s right there. “Hey, what happened? The last thing I remember is being tied up. Did I faint again?”

Everyone else, the whole batfamily and the mini Damian army, is like “wtf how’d you get here, buddy?” While he’s just like :) so Bruce, who put a bug on the security cameras or whatever, checks the footage and what he finds is absolutely horrifying.

Just after he died, Normal Dami’s eyes snapped open. Glowing a deep Lazarus Green. He stood up, walked out, and immediately fucking decimated the remaining group of kidnappers like a rabid animal. Literally anyone who got near him were goners, and Thank Sweet Jesus he didn’t run into anyone on the walk back because he didn’t care to clean off all that blood. Nope, he just walked right through the front doors of the manor, found a clean set of clothes, completely on autopilot, then all of the adrenaline wore off, and he collapsed from exhaustion.

So everyone watches the footage. NPC Damian is horrified. He insists that’s not him because he doesn’t kill people! How could they ever accuse him of killing people?! He has never done something like that. He can’t even walk up a flight of stairs without getting winded for Christ’s sake!

Nonetheless, he agrees to sit in their itty bitty holding cell as they do some fun little tests, and lo and behold: he is so genetically fucked up. Why? Because his DNA isn’t like the other Damians. It’s completely mutated by this green glowing substance that they know all too well.

The verdict? Normal Dami has been permanently mutated by the Lazarus Pit. The Lazarus Pit is inside of him. It IS him. Or maybe Normal NPC Damian is the Lazarus Pit.

When Normal Dami was two and he and Talia still lived with the LOA, there was an incident involving Damian drowning in the Lazarus Pit (à la Ra’s Al Ghul's Stellar Grand-Parenting Skills.) However, since he wasn’t dead, the Lazarus Pit devoured him, consumed him with violent pit madness, spat him back out, and Damian became this completely, unstoppably rage-filled toddler that can throw you over his shoulder and snap your neck. So Talia, terrified of what Ra’s would do with him, escaped to Gotham, found Bruce, begged for help, and they devised a plan.

Step 1: Raise Lazarus Damian as a completely normal kid.

Step 2: Take him to therapy. Maybe give him anger management classes. (Monitor his sugar intake. That couldn’t hurt.)

That was literally their whole plan. They had no other ideas ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Occasionally, he’d snap and kill someone in cold blood (whoopsie daisy) but his parents were an assassin and the world's greatest detective. No one’s gonna know.

Through some trial and error, they found out that abrupt adrenaline spikes were what triggered the madness. So they worked around it. They gave him calm, relaxing hobbies. They spoiled him with emotional support animals. They Never Raised Their Voices. He was homeschooled for a bit then introduced to university, but only AFTER they made sure Jon (the Indestructable Superboy) was his roommmate. (Yes, they told him. Yes, he is now part of the convoluted Keep Deadly Damian Relaxed Task Force. They’re also dating.) They got Damian a FitBit that tracked his heart rate so they could predict when his adrenaline spiked. They Life360’d his ass so fucking hard. Meanwhile, Damian just thought he had some kind of medical thing, none the wiser the entire time.

Long story short? “Chill Normal NPC Damian” Cannot Die. But he can Kill.

If he does “die” (the Lazarus Pit cannot die) then he goes into a murderous rage, kills everyone in sight, it wears off with the adrenaline, and he can’t remember what happened. This Damian is the Most Dangerous of the variants, and he doesn’t even know it because his parents decided that would be best.

And now the other Damians are scared of him, and he’s scared of himself, and no one knows why he's made of the Lazarus Pit, and they don’t know what to do with him, and they still don’t know how to get back, and some of them want to kill him, and some don't, but no one trusts him, including himself, and it becomes an all-out war over the fate of Damian.

Anyway, Normal Damian who's actually a Murderous Lazarus Spirit without even knowing it. Thank you :)

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meliake · 2 months

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If I read one more fucking fic where Tim begs for his life in Titan's Tower I'm actually going to explode like?? READ IT????

Tim is a little fucking shit the entire time, fully confident in his abilities until the very end. And Jason didn't try and kill him, just gravely injured him to send a message, hence the bloody writing. Like guys- he could have killed him but purposefully didn't to prove his point.

There was no moment of regret for him because the 'pit rage' got to him, he was in full control of himself all throughout electrocuting Cyborg and Beastboy, putting Raven to sleep. LIKE GUYS PLEASE JUST READ THE ISSUE I STG

#tim drake #jason todd #batman #red hood #red robin #robin #Its actually getting to be a deal breaker for me in any angsty fic #like Its a post Bruce getting stuck in the timeline fic and a mention of titans tower rolls around and Im like #noooo #how it this gonna play out #and if they talk about 'beating a poor innocent traumatized kid'#I physically cannot read it #Its a sign they dont actually read any comics or underdtand their characterization #LET TIM BE A LITTLE BITCH SOMETIMES #LET JASON CONCIOUSLY MAKE BAD CHOICES SOMETIMES #irks me so bad #sorry Im ranting in the tags #Titans tower

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asirensrage · 1 year

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Mise en Place - A "choose your own adventure" style fic - Part 3

Fandom: Punisher AU Rating: Mature Pairing: Billy Russo x OC Warnings: Dark!Fic, threats, murder, obsession, swearing, violence, blood, and likely more to be added... Summary: Nadine thought her biggest problem was helping to keep the restaurant she worked at afloat as the neighbourhood starts being bought out from under them. A chance meeting in an elevator with an old fling proves differently…

Notes: There's a lot of violence in this chapter. Heed the warnings. The last vote was a tie so I made the final call. Nadine...uses her knives to defend herself.

Part 1 / Part 2 /

Previously: “What are you doing in my house?” “Waiting for you, Nadine.” He grins and steps forward….

She doesn’t have a lot of options. The door is locked behind her and if she wants to open it, she would need to turn her back on him. She already knows that’s a bad idea.

“Me? Do we know each other?”

“We will,” he says. Her hand moves to her side, drawing out the wrapped cloth bundle from her tote. She grabs the handle that sticks out first. It’s her boning knife. It sits in her hand like an extension of herself. She drops the bundle back in the tote and puts it on the ground before kicking it out of the way.

The man looks at it and laughs. With its long thin blade, it doesn’t look like much but she’s used it a thousand times taking apart different animals in her work. It’s familiar in a way that he isn’t.

“Do you even know what to do with that, girl?”

She shifts it in her hand, trying not to let the comment rankle. It shouldn’t surprise her. Many don’t know what it takes to reach her skill. She ignores the desire to snap back. He’s large and threatening and she reminds herself that he’s just another animal. She’s broken down many, dozens of times before. She’s not going to make this easy for him. Whatever he succeeds in taking from her will cost him.

“You’re a chef,” he says, trying to antagonize her. “What are you going to do? Mince me?”

She shifts her weight, setting one foot slightly behind her. It seems to amuse him further. Nadine’s not stupid. She’s a single woman in the city and has always been seen as an easier target due to her size. She’s taken self-defence classes throughout her years at school. He knows her name. She wonders what else he knows about her.

He lunges forward.

She pivots on her heel, knife sliding against flesh as she moves out of his way. Blood splatters against the floor as he swears, his hand pressing against the sudden wound.

“Bitch!”

She simply turns to face him. She can hear her instructor’s voice in her head: make good cuts, let the knife do the work. She’s not using a saw and should avoid the joints but there are other places to cut, ones that will maximize the damage she can do in the time she has to ensure he cannot attack. Tendons and large muscle groups, kidneys and liver.

He strikes again. He’s not trying to get ahold of her, or do any serious damage. It’s like he’s playing with her to draw this out. Fucker.

She doesn’t manage to avoid him this time, getting the breath knocked out of her sharply as she’s shoved back into the side table by her couch. She nearly goes toppling over it. She forces herself to breathe through the pain. Focus, she can practically hear her instructor say. Think about the step you’re on, not what comes next. The memory is burned into her from the repetition.

She darts forward, ducking under his swing and swipes her knife up. It slides into the soft flesh of his armpit and she can feel it scrape across bone before she pulls it out. The man screams.

It doesn’t stop him though and he uses the moment she needs to retrieve her knife to grab her hair. He yanks it back, taking her with it. She swings the knife down and away from her, catching him on the leg. It slips across and down his inner thigh. He lets go of her hair as he tries to put pressure on the wound. She scrambles back, kicking out and catching him hard in the knee. He falls as she gets to her feet, struggling to catch her breath as she watches the man curse, trying to pull himself away from her.

How long until he bleeds out? She hit an artery based on the amount of blood that’s spreading around him. She’s never going to get her security deposit back now. She laughs a little, wondering if she might be in shock. Her head is swimming. She’s definitely bruised from where she hit that table.

He’s still moaning. She’s never actually had to watch something die before. The animals she worked with were always dead first. Maybe she should call an ambulance…It would be easy, she thinks, to even disassemble the body herself but transporting it would be a pain and she still has no clue why he was here or if he was working alone.

Either way, she needs help.

Where is her phone?

mise en place tag: @muchadoaboutcj @koiwrites @chrissymunson @nageill

general tag: @raith-way @arrthurpendragon @veetlegeuse @chickensarentcheap @residentdormouse @endless-oc-creations @stanshollaand @wordspin-shares @chrissymunson

Billy Russo tag: @wheresthesunshinesblog

#fic: mise en place #ridea's choose your own adventure #choose your own adventure fic #make a choice fic #billy russo x oc #mafia!billy russo #dark!billy russo

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jade-of-mourning · 4 months

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sorry sometimes i think about mako and my heart hurts so much. this kid raised himself and his brother on the streets in homelessness and utter poverty from eight through fifteen, promptly after seeing the violent death of his mother and father. he turned to the triple threats because they couldn't survive as a pair of wretched kids without any adult support, and the environment forced him to turn into the exact character that killed his parents in a terrible twist of irony. and after sheer-fucking-luck hits and they aren't homeless anymore, their livelihood wavers on the outcome of what's a literally game to everyone but them; and after things are finally starting to look up and their team is going places and things just might be okay, his gradually stabilizing world unceremoniously expands and everything goes to shit.

and the city that chewed him up and spat him back out, ruined him as a child and took away his ability to stay afloat in a true sense of normalcy as an adult — when it's on the verge of destruction and falling to pieces before his eyes, he gives himself to save it with the full expectation to die. he went from the kid who didn't and couldn't care about anything outside of himself and his brother, to finding redemption for his younger self in his police work despite its injustice against him, to willingly sacrificing himself to a world that had never loved him.

he's a desperate people pleaser, socially and emotionally stunted for the adult he had to be as a kid, unable to navigate interpersonal relationships easily yet still trying his damned hardest. he's intensely and entirely devoted to the things that matter to him and for so long it was only him, bolin, and ensuring their survival — yet by the end, that devotion has expanded to protecting the rest of the world. he starts out entirely self-reliant and ends in trusting the people he cares about to know their own needs, to be able to take care of themselves, to be okay without him despite having spent so much of his life defined by his role in others' well-being.

just. what the fuck i'm such a big fan of this fictional guy and i'm unashamed about it at this point. also let him cry please (if you won't i'll do it i'll let him cry)

#lychee's brain trash #mako lok #mako tlok #sorry for the shitpost i don't do a lot of those i realize #how tf did this guy not had a massive break down in canon at any point #nd like;; he never shows resentment for the unfairness of it all #he doesn't ever use his past to excuse any of his choices/actions that are influenced by it #which is pretty intrinsically linked to his relationship fumbles #he just quietly holds himself accountable and probably mildly despises himself haha #as much as i don't care for the love triangle it really does make complete sense in accordance to his backstory #anyway this is just a roundabout way of me expressing my salt at people writing him off as a malicious asshole lol #i literally cannot articulate the intense complex things his conjured up existence makes me feel #this does not even scratch the surface there is SO MUCH #i need to actually write the fifty fics that exist to my brain otherwise all these thoughts will never see the sun #trust that one day the avatar!mako au will emerge from my drafts;;;#and. you know. that one shot i've had in wip for the past 2.5 years #and the four other oneshots that will probably never be converted into actual words

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hippielittlemetalhead · 4 months

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Never Took The Time (To Forget) part 4.1 : With a Capital 'P'

Part 4.2 (Hey Dingus? Idk, the title for that one is up in the air.) will be up as soon as I have it somewhere I like (doing a different character's pov instead of Hop so it's giving me some trouble). Felt really bad that I hadn't updated in a while and this one was getting longer than I expected and I hadn't even gotten Robin really talking yet so... Happy Valentine's Day?

Part 1 (Hop Fucks Up), Part 2 (Pride and Prejudices: Joyce Edition), Part 3 (One of Us)

Family Video and the Arcade were two of the few businesses still operating after the inter-dimensional earthquakes that had tried tearing their town to pieces. Hop knew the kid who used to run the place for his uncle, Keith, had split town with his folks (said uncle in tow) leaving the store and arcade in the care of whatever employees had been willing to stay on payroll while the world fell apart.

He watches as Harrington's (more banged up than never remembers it being) car stops in front of the video store, parked parallel to the curb across at least 3 parking spots, as a wildly gesticulating Robin rolls herself out of the idling vehicle, jabbering loud enough that Hop can hear her voice from down the block. With most cars owned by the folks of Hawkins being commandeered by Owens' government goons to fill the gaps left by lost military vehicles it doesn't much matter but Hop can't help a bit of an eye roll at the kid's audacity.

But then again, he catches himself thinking, Steve was one of the only 'civilians' in-the-know and was well-known for carting around and protecting proven assets to the War Of The Worlds shitshow going on. So was there really an issue if the kid was one of the only cars on the road anyway and because he was even more read-in on the situation than even local law enforcement? If he was not only transporting and protecting people the government had a vested interest in but had proven himself more effective than even Hop and Joyce in wrangling the kids who had basically been saving the world for the last 4 years? If he kept them safe and out of harm's way in the thick of it but also kept them entertained and out from underfoot during the downtime?

Hell, the kid being one of the only employees left at some of the last businesses in town these brats would have any interest in almost guarantees the whole lot of them are continuously stocked in movies, snacks and quarters to distract them from even the most world shaking of calamities.

It hadn't occurred to him until just now what it meant for The Party that Steve and Robin seemed to be the only ones willing to hang around behind the counter at the arcade and sell and rent movies to shell-shocked townsfolk and tight-lipped government goons alike. Fuck, Lucas and Mike were right. He was an asshole.

He's pulled out of the slow spiral of realizing Mike Wheeler of all people had been right about something by Steve hollering one last "Love you, Bobby!" at a grinning and waving Buckley as she flung open the video store door and stumbled inside. He waits for the car and it's driver to round the corner before he gets out of his own government-issued station wagon. Fuck but he missed his truck.

"Welcome to Family Video, I literally just got here so you're gonna have to give me a minute before I can help you."

"I'm uh, I'm not here for a movie." He can tell she recognizes his voice (and it's a little impressive how quickly she clocks him since he's spoken only a couple words anywhere near her maybe twice in his memory. Girl has a good ear) from the way her entire body stills for a split second before whirling back into the hurricane of motion he's come to associate with her.

"Afraid we've only got movies round here, officer. You want any other medium of entertainment I'd suggest the arcade or the distribution yard." She's still not looking at him, hands busy shuffling papers and flipping open VHS cases. "Sorry, guess we'll have to catch up another time."

Hop sighs, running a hand over the short growth he's slowly getting used to again. He'd almost shaved it down again but El had been so happy when she'd realized they were growing out at about the same rate. He couldn't ever say no to her.

"Look, I know you don't like me. And it has been brought to my attention just how much I fucking earned that. But I- I need your help here, to fix it."

The flurry of movement doesn't stop but it's tighter, she's fiddling with something shoved up her shirt sleeve and tapping at the casing of a button connected to a wire leading into her green vest. Bright blue eyes are focused on him and he's almost reminded of the no-nonsense look Nancy Wheeler gets whenever they're faced with the world ending, but the girl in front of him is colder. He has no doubts that where Nancy Wheeler would tear down giants for what she believed is right, Robin Buckley would burn the world if it meant saving her people.

"Fine. He'll be back from his patrol-" He didn't remember assigning a patrol schedule and he's not sure if this is Steve's own initiative or if he's been roped into something by Owens' people. "in about twenty minutes. You have fifteen. Now why should I help you?"

The tag list below. Let me know if you want to be removed or if you go by a new/different tag you want on the list let me know which one I'm replacing and what I'm replacing it with please.

I've had some people ask to be tagged in this series who should already be in the list? If you see your name/tag but didn't get the notification that you were tagged please let me know so we can figure it out.

As always; like, comment and feel free to ask questions in the replies or my ask box.

@thelittleclare @jackiemonroe5512 @0body0disphoria0 @strangersteddierthings @lingeringmirth @dead-cherry-bitch @irethsune @ink777 @the-daydreamer-in-the-corner @ledleaf @pansexuality-activated @paintsplatteredandimperfect @kinryuuki @yikes-a-bee @altocumulustranslucidus @samsoble @sensationalsunburst @xxbottlecapx @y4r3luv @swimmingbirdrunningrock @flustratedcas @rootbeerandmusic @vinteraltus @wonderland-girl143-blog @failedstarsandgoldenclouds @steddie-as-they-go @youdrewstarsxaroundmyscars @i-amthepizzaman @croatoan-like-its-hot @maya-custodios-dionach @ineffable-monster-romancer @asquareinverona @iheartjennaaa @ellietheasexylibrarian

Tags that are not working on my end. Most of these Tumblr acts like they just don't exist and others I see accounts similar but 1 word, letter or number off. Please let me know if I put any of these down wrong!!

@anaibis @wormapothacary @lawrencebshoggoth @steveshairspray @samcoxramblings @rocochen20 @ohimamarigold @child-of-cthulhu

#rambler writes #Never Took The Time (To Forget)#nttttf verse #hopper adopts steve #but make it sad #codependent steve and robin #robin buckley #platonic soulmates stobin #stobin are soulmates and you can't convince me otherwise #not a Nancy hater just not really a Nancy appreciater #great character but in a #they're a flawed human who makes fucked up personal life choices while making decent/good save the world choices #ANYWHO #stranger things wip #stranger things fic

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carolperkinsexgirlfriend · 13 days

Text

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 113

Part 1 Part 112

Even perfect moments must end, and Steve’s ready to leave this one. He doesn’t regret his chosen locale, but the room’s dark now, and the shadows are starting to loom the way they would when he was a child.

His legs are stiff when he gets up off Eddie’s lap, hips creaking as they realign.

Steve doesn’t make it into the bedroom proper before Eddie calls out, “wait!” He snatches the hem of Steve’s jacket. It bunches awkwardly as Steve twists to look back at Eddie. “Shit, ow, ow, dead legs.”

Eddie’s stumbling upright, hanging onto Steve’s jacket for dear life as he tries to use it to pull himself to his feet. Steve grabs his forearm and hauls him up, almost buckling himself when Eddie throws his arms around his shoulders. “Hang on, hang on, let me—” he says, reaching around Steve, and suddenly there’s light.

Eddie’s curls are hanging in front of Steve’s face, tickling his nose as he retracts his hand from the light switch outside the closet that he’d flicked on.

It’s jarring after so long in the dull light, but Eddie’s beaming when he pulls back to look in Steve’s face, smile brighter than any light Steve’s ever seen.

Steve smiles back, helpless in the face of his stupid dimples. He reaches out to thumb one of them, and it deepens as Eddie laughs and nuzzles into the touch.

“Wait, stop distracting me!”

Steve twists his thumb around in the dimple before tweaking his cheek between pointer and thumb like a doting grandmother. Eddie smacks his hand.

“Stop it!”

“You love it,” Steve says, trailing his fingers down his cheek to settle at the join between neck and shoulder, fingers pushing beneath his t-shirt and resting there.

“Whatever, dude,” Eddie replies. He looks down at his own hands as he spins his rings the way he does when he’s nervous. “It was supposed to be romantic.” He says it with all the same inflections as Steve had, smiling like nothing makes him happier than mocking Steve.

Steve squeezes his shoulder until it drops for its tense position. “Well?” he asks. “Romance me, then.”

Eddie snorts, cheeks pinkening. Steve watches his fingers dance from ring to ring to ring before pulling one of his pinkie and holding it in his palm.

Steve squints down at it. Eddie’s mussed bangs partially block his view, but he sees enough to recognize it.

It’s the smallest and most delicate of all Eddie’s rings—a thin silver band with a tiny green gem inlaid in the center. Aside from showering and sleeping, it perpetually rests on Eddie’s left pinkie finger.

Eddie slips it on Steve’s own pinkie. It fits snuggly below his knuckle, already warm from Eddie’s body heat. Steve stares down at it, transfixed. Eddie’s hands look naked without his rings, but on Steve, it looks almost bizarre to have even the one finger adorned.

Steve wiggles his finger around, watching the metal catch the light pleasingly.

Eddie’s smirking when Steve looks up at him. “I don’t know if you remember, but that little bad boy’s the one that fell out of your pants.”

It takes a minute for the memory to click. “In the Upside-Down?” he asks, looking down at the ring with new eyes. “When your hand got stuck in my pants?”

Eddie sputters, muttering something that sounds like, “don’t’ say it like that,” before he raises his voice and continues, “just feels right to give it back.”

He reaches fingers out to twist the ring on Steve’s own finger. The glide’s not smooth—it catches on Steve’s clammy skin as he watches, transfixed.

“We’ve come full circle, you know?”

Once he’s finished speaking, he pulls his Steve’s hand up to his lips, placing such a soft kiss against the ring that Steve’s breath catches.

“Thanks,” Steve croaks out, choking in the moths fluttering away in his lungs. There’s an infestation in there. He puts a hand on his own chest after Eddie lowers their hands and swears he can feel them flapping. “Are you ready to get the hell out of here?”

He doesn’t wait for a response, just turns, pulling Eddie along by their still-joined hands. Eddie clicks the light switch by the closet off, and they stumble the rest of the way to the bedroom door in complete darkness.

“I don’t know, this might be my last chance to make a coming out of the closet joke.”

The hallway’s dark when Steve opens the door, so he clicks on the light, unwilling to stumble down the stairs in the dark.

“What do you mean?” Steve asks, not turning around as he begins his descent.

“You know because we just made out in a closet?” Steve hums questioningly and Eddie starts up again. “Stevie, you know? Because I’m gay?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Eddie doesn’t respond until Steve’s at the bottom of the stairs. “Angel, are you serious?” He spins Steve around, latching onto his shoulders and peering into his eyes. “Are you fucking with me?”

Steve, who’s decidedly not fucking with him and is frankly entirely lost, just blinks up at him where he’s leaning forward on the last stair.

He shrugs, entirely lost.

They stare at each other in silence, maintaining intense eye contact the entire time.

Eddie cracks first. “Oh my god,” he says, leaning forward precariously on his perch to smoosh his face into Steve’s shoulder, groaning. “How did this happen?”

“I’m…sorry?” Steve says, patting Eddie’s shoulder in consolation of what appears to have been a mighty blow.

“I thought at least Carol would have told you.”

“Shit, Carol!” Steve turns quickly, striding toward the kitchen and more importantly, the phone. It’s only after he’s already moved that he remembers Eddie was leaning on him for balance. By then, Eddie’s already sputtering as he slips down the first step, slipping down to the ground floor, luckily staying upright. “I promised I’d call her right away.”

He lets his fingers do his thing, and Carol picks up so quickly that the phone barely rings. “Well?” she demands, voice crackling with impatience through the line.

“I told him,” Steve replies, knowing without asking what she wanted to hear. Eddie shuffles up behind him and hooks his chin over Steve’s shoulder, pressing his ear to the back side of the phone. “And he kissed me.”

Carol squeals like they’re at sleepover, and Eddie wraps his arms around Steve’s waist.

“Did you follow our plan?”

Steve grimaces at the thought of standing here through Carol’s teasing with Eddie as a devout witness. “For the most part,” he hedges, cringing when that makes Eddie laugh.

“What does that mean?” she demands.

Eddie snatches the phone from him, holding it out in front of them both as he says, “our boy here went off script.” Eddie squeezes Steve’s waist, leaning forward when the tinny sound of Carol’s laugh filters through. “Had me half convinced he was ditching me for you and Hagan.”

Carol’s shrieking with laughter at this point. Steve stares, mortified at the phone as Carol yells, “I told you we should’ve written it down!”

Steve sinks into Eddie’s chest, mortified as Eddie buries his face in Steve’s shoulder and shakes with laughter.

Steve snatches the phone out of his hand and pushes it hard against his other ear, hoping that’ll muffle any horrible thing she says enough that Eddie won’t be able to hear it.

“Shut up,” Steve hisses, like staying quiet will somehow make Eddie unaware of how warm Steve’s cheek is where it’s pressed against his forehead.

“Are you going to talk to Loverboy with that mouth?” she asks. He can almost hear the way her eyes are twinkling as she says it.

Steve groans, letting his chin sink into his own chest. He closes his eyes, ready to be somewhere else for a while. Unfortunately, that doesn’t stopper his ears up, and Carol’s not done.

“You know, if things don’t work out with Munson—”

“They will!”

“Hagan might be out of the picture, but Barb and I could always leave a little room between us for a ménage à troi—"

Steve hangs up.

“Ready to go?” Steve asks brightly.

Eddie starts laughing again when the phone starts to ring, but dutifully follows when Steve keeps walking to the front door.

The click of the lock sounds final when he twists the key in.

There’s a missing spot on his keyring where it used to have its home. But it’s never belonged on the same ring as the Munson’s trailer key, so he puts it back in its hiding spot with no hesitation.

He does hesitate when he pulls out his keyring. There’s not much left on it—the Munson’s trailer key and his car keys. That’s all there is.

He hesitates, fingers hovering over his car keys. He’s been hesitating over this for weeks. Since he’d first gotten back from the Upside-Down and the beemer stuck out like a sore thumb in the driveway.

Since his Dad had held out his beckoning hand in the hospital room and demanded the keys back. He’d cleared out all his belongings that week, waiting for them to tow it away, take the last thing aside from his name that ties them together.

But, it’d been rotting in the Munson’s driveway ever since.

And Steve’s still hesitating—always, always, hesitating.

But then Eddie asks, “Stevie?” and he pulls them off the ring like it’s nothing.

He opens the driver’s side door and tucks the keys into the visor where he used to hang his sunglasses.

“Are you okay with walking home?” Steve asks, turning his back on the car, and the house, and this life for the last time.

Eddie’s brow is furrowed as he meets Steve’s eyes, but whatever he sees must appease him because soon enough he’s smiling, something dangerously close to pride shining in his eyes.

“Of course,” he says, skipping up to Steve’s side and matching him step for step as they walk down the Harrington’s long driveway. “But, if you were going to pull this, why didn’t I just follow you in my van?”

He bumps their shoulders together, good-natured and teasing even while facing a long walk home in the dark.

“I wasn’t sure I’d actually do it until I’d already done it,” Steve replies, stepping off the driveway and onto the smooth sidewalk that only the rich neighborhoods in Hawkins seem to have.

“Yeah,” Eddie replies, so softly in the quiet of the night. “It makes perfect sense.”

Hawkins is a small town, but here in the dark on an abandoned street, it feels safe enough to reach out and take Eddie’s hand.

Part 114

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie upsidedown au #my fic #huzzah!!!! Originally I WAS going to have the car towed. But I think it works better as Steve making the choice to let go of the ties #that come with it. Yes. He could've given it to his dad when he asked in the hospital. but that would've been an FU to steve and this #is more of an FU to them since it's very. Ok whatever. I don't need you and I don't even want to see you to TELL YOU THAT #anyway. this is the end of the getting together era. Everyone is on the same page. Carol knows. Boom

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sky-kiss · 8 months

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Okay I had a thought and you can do with it whatever you want... but Raphael speaking infernal is so underrated. Even in game when he casts spells during battle, he doesn't really verbally say anything which is a shame (but is kinda cool if certain beings are powerful enough to cast nonverbally. Either that or my game is hella bugged). When you had that moment in your latest chapter of him speaking infernal to transform that made me 😳Like the way it'd described of being this harsh language and Raphael speaking it just snapped some part of my brain and I'd imagine it'd do something for Joi/Tav too. Like would Raphael still somehow make it sound beautiful (to quote Mamzelle, "a voice that could make the foulest blasphemy seem the sweetest hymn" or it would he still sound harsh but it's still hot because it's flying out of THAT mouth?

__________

A/N: There’s an actor I used to adore who was German, but often spoke a lot of french. So his German would come out with that gentle French lilt. Gonna channel that.

__________

He comes to her in the evening, this devil she loves, and the scent of cherries, sulfur, and musk hangs about him like a shroud. Raphael prowls about her suite like some great cat, his dark head held high. In the hells, his hellfire eyes will light with their inner fire. On the prime material, he’s softer. Warm brown, a touch of honey, almost sweet enough to make her forget.

“You’re late,” she says.

He hums lowly. The natural theatricality of the noise does not rob it of its power; Tav shivers. The devil sees; he knows. He always knows. “Ah, but there is such beauty in anticipation, wouldn’t you agree? Desire honed to a knife’s point.” A turn of his right hand, long-fingered and elegant. “Before one tips over the edge.”

It’s a fine enough point in principle, but less appealing in reality. Their time is short, limited to stolen moments when their schedules align. She has a city to rebuild. He has the lower planes to conquer.

Her devil smiles, patronizing. “If you feel neglected, mouse, I have already proposed a solution. You’ve only to accept the offered hand.”

“Join you in Hell?” He nods, eyes wide and lovely. It strikes her that he has cultivated every aspect of this human skin: the smile is so wide, so open, and so nakedly suffused with guile that it wraps back around to innocence.

Raphael steps close. The scent again: cherries, sweet and delicate. Her devil, wearing sweetness and silk to hide his uglier underbelly. He brushes the fringe of her hair back from her cheek, touch lingering. “Deny me all you like, pet. It shall make the eventual fall all the sweeter.”

Anticipation. Tav shivers.

Some nights, they fuck in front of the fireplace or on the chaise. Never in the bed. It’s her stipulation. Raphael crinkles his nose at the coarse language and indelicacy of the location. She deserves better, he says. The phrase always comes with an accompanying hand gesture, as if he's framing her for a portrait. Something pretty he can lock away from the world, point at when he wants to feel superior. Admire his wealth, this wild adventurer he’s collared.

Most nights, they work. Tav shuffles through requisition orders. Raphael amends his contracts. She watches him work, more often than not, gaze flicking across the elegant script. It burns, and there’s an undeniable elegance to the infernal ruins. Tav reaches out to race a line, mouthing the words. She’s out of practice. Infernal is not a pretty language; it fits particularly poorly in her untrained tongue. Raphael rests his chin in his palm, amused by her attempt.

“Allow me.”

The devil repeats the phrase. It may as well be a different language. The words drip off his tongue, the harshness erased in favor of a lilting cadence. Tav chews the inside of her cheek, brow furrowed. “Is that…is it a regional dialect? Something distinct to Cania?”

“In all likelihood, you’ve only heard the lower dialects. The least baatezu are harsh and guttural. The higher speech has a grace to it, provided one is willing to learn. It is a melody, dark and heady as any wine.” Raphael places his hand, palm up, on the table. “Allow me.” Tav sets her hand in his. “Close your eyes, pet.”

She does.

Raphael traces lines across her palm, humming to himself. “There are four tongues, sweetling. Lower, lowest, high, highest. For the sake of your sanity, we shall avoid the dialect of the archdevils. But the language of the courts might please you.”

“And is there a reason my eyes must remain closed?”

He chuckles, thumb pressing against the veins of her wrist. There is an awful note of potential in the touch; he could break the fragile bones with half a thought. “Feeling, Tav. Like the steps of the dance, it should fill you, move you.”

She shivers as his fingers ghost up her forearm, featherlight nerve strokes. Raphael repeats the lines of infernal, his fingers drifting up on the mouth melodic stretches, dipping down when the words adopt a guttural edge. It is never grating, never clipped; some of that is exclusively him, years of experience and language marrying in a distinctive vocal pattern. Tav chews her lower lip. She’s too aware of his heat, pinpricks of warmth dancing across her skin as he plays his game.

It is beautiful and dark, and she feels the words on her skin. Raphael traces the runes. Her mind struggles to translate the higher dialect, flowing until it isn’t, succinct until double-meaning creeps into the terminology. Tav feels drunk in the darkness.

“And now,” his voice is closer, spoken against the shell of his ear. The devil gathers her into his lap. He smiles into the curve of her throat. “The student demonstrates what she’s learned. Come, pet, impress me.”

He traces the runes on her thighs. Over the skin of her belly. Between her breasts. And if she loses the thread, if her voice gives way, her devil stops. He’ll suck a bruise into her throat, press teeth until they threaten to breast skin, tease, tease, tease…

Anticipation, she thinks, that earlier word flitting across her awareness.

And her devil is ever patient.

#bg3 raphael #raphael bg3 #raphael x tav #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #asks #my fic #raphael out here abusing the dark power of his voice #in this house we make terrible choices #im sorry there isnt more language stuff #my latin is SUPER rusty so i didn't risk it

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randompandabaewrites · 4 days

Text

Born to Survive (1/2)

Astarion x f!Tav (tiefling), Canon Compliant,

Astarion's Romance, Act 1

1.8k of about 6k

part 2

Astarion's perfect little plan to seduce and manipulate Tav goes awry the first night he spends with her. But he should have known from the moment she agreed to meet him in the woods. // Part 1 of 2 cause this was longer than I planned for (heh). Astarion's dialogue is as close to the game as I could manage, with some embellishment. CW: Astarion's v healthy approach to sex/intimacy. MDNI This part is not explicit but part 2 is only that. Song Rec: Natural (Cover) by Kristen Collins & Kurt Hugo Schneider//

Astarion from the growing darkness watched as Tav knelt by the campfire, fighting with the instincts honed over centuries.

Tonight, she was going to feel their razor’s edge—except she was going to live to see the morning.

Maybe that was why the vampire was feeling a little bit of…hesitation, for once. He’d done this song of seduction and dance of deception more times than he could remember. It would be easy as any night on his back. She would be no different.

So he thought.

Tav was paying all of her attention to the fragrant herbs she’d gathered into neat bundles, binding them together, singing their edges to combine them, and deftly blowing them out again.

It made Astarion scoff to think the tiefling had time to be concerned over such trivial matters. Tadpoles in their heads. Death stalking them at every corner. And here was the ranger, worried about potion ingredients camp supplies.

And here he was, charming a mere ranger.

Astarion watched as she brushed her long hair over her shoulder and out of her way to continue focusing on her task. His eyes traced the marks still visible on her neck. The twin punctures were worn so openly, brazenly advertising that she’d so willingly let a vampire feed from her.

That was his way in. Because he remembered how…intimate that encounter was. A foreign concept from a life of feeding on rotten rats—but he was more than familiar with the way her body trembled under his teeth.

Astarion rolled his shoulders back to relax, composed his face into a charming smile, and sauntered over to the fireplace.

“Darling, there you are.”

“Astarion!” Tav jumped, nearly dropping the herbs into the flames. “Gods, you’re quieter than any prey I’ve tracked.”

He gave a flippant wave to ward off her comment. If only she knew how groomed he was to stalk the most clever and dangerous of prey.

“I was just thinking about you. Remembering our time together, the things we shared…”

Tav straightened up from her crouch at the fire. She arched an eyebrow, and rested her hand on her cocked hip. “Astarion, if you need blood—”

“I don’t just mean that lovely neck of yours,” he interrupted smoothly. He made a point of his eyes traveling over her figure, wondering what was hidden under supple leather armor—worn, well-used armor.”I’m growing to like the whole package.”

“Really?” Tav asked, her tone dripping with a skepticism he didn’t appreciate. “I didn’t think a little dirt would do it for ya.”

Her bright eyes raked over his impeccably kept appearance, which he had still managed after an abduction and days out in the wilds, thank you very much.

But then Astarion noticed the slight swish of her tail. Though tieflings weren’t as common among his targets, he’d charmed and manipulated a few in his endless nights on the streets.

Tav was either irritated…or interested.

And Astarion knew just how to tilt that reaction into his favor.

“Honestly,” he protested, stepping a bit closer to her. “And, you clearly like me too.”

Her tail slashed back and forth, disturbing the dust near the fire. Even as she wore that face of suspicion and doubt. Cute little thing. Like a kitten who thought her mewling was a roar.

“Come now, don’t be coy.” Astarion stepped artfully into her personal space, crowding her against the log that Karlach had placed as a bench before the fire. “Your body has already given you away…I could feel it.”

Tav swallowed, and his eyes were drawn right to the graceful slope of her neck.

As if she needed any more reminding of the night he first fed from her. How she had laid her head back into his hold. How he nearly lost control when he tasted the sweet nectar flowing through her veins—he almost forgot how she squirmed under him, but didn’t push him away. Then, that traitorous tail of hers curled up at the point.

She may as well have broadcast her arousal to the entire camp.

Astarion raised a hand, ghosting his touch along the defiant line of her jaw, down to her throat and the fading marks his fangs had left behind. She didn’t flinch at his almost-caress. In fact, she was already tilting her chin to it.

“The little shivers, when I was getting lost, in your neck…”

Some feeling bubbled up unbidden from within the vampire. That moment, his first time taking blood from a thinking creature, well he couldn’t help it if that was special to him too. Astarion could still feel her fingers coiling at the small hairs at the back of his own neck.

It was…intimate. Like hadn’t known before.

No.

He quickly buried the foreign desires and slipped back into the persona that never failed to stoke them in others. Want was a weapon in his arsenal, one that he could wield with lethal dexterity.

“You enjoyed it, didn’t you?”

Tav’s teeth bit into her bottom lip, and she must know that she’d been caught. The agitated flicking of her tail slowed. Astarion knew that he had her when the pointed tip began to curl.

“So I did.”

A triumphant grin tugged at the corners of the elf’s mouth. He, deliberately, tilted his head to her, so the setting sunlight might catch his gleaming fangs when he grinned.

He was always so careful to conceal his nature from unsuspecting prey until he could pull them into the shadows. But Tav’s obvious attraction to his vampiric features was something he fully intended to exploit.

Such a wicked weakness for good girl.

“So did I, more than words could say.” He let his rich voice drip with honey as he finally let his cool fingers touch her heated skin, skimming deftly over the fading twin marks.

Tav shivered under his hand, but didn’t pull away.

He had her now.

Astarion loomed closer, his cool breath ghosting over her pointed ear. “I was so…very pleased with what you gave me, darling. You deserve a reward.”

He expected her to melt into the caress of hand and his words, but Tav stiffened under his attentions and pulled back. Confusion flickered over the elf’s face before he could conceal it behind an innocently wounded expression. What did he say wrong?

“I don’t need a reward, Astarion.” Tav’s tone was firm, but irritatingly gentle. Which just made him want to snap his fangs in frustration. She ducked back to pick up her abandoned herbs, bundling them up neatly, and literally slipping right out of his fingers. “Some people help just for the sake of helping, you know?”

Astarion bit back the scathing retort that rose to his lips.

It wouldn’t do him any good in his current objective, and might just shatter the fragile mood he had so carefully constructed.

Instead, he forced a disarming chuckle and slid onto the log seat next to her. “Of course dear, I simply meant we could take an evening to ourselves.” Her tail twitched next to him. “Get away from camp, get some…privacy.”

Astarion’s silver tongue was not about to fail him now. Tav’s back was to him, taking her time packing her herbs away, a tension lingering in her shoulders that he wanted to sooth away with his hands—or his mouth.

She was proving to be more of a challenge. No matter, he enjoyed a good game of cat and mouse. Though he had no intention of being the mouse.

Tav turned back to face him, those jewel-like eyes scrutinizing his face, like she was trying to pierce the winsome smile he plied as a well-worn mask.

She leaned closer, bringing her earthy smell of herbs and leather and something wild that made something in him ache for more. To have her closer—to feed, obviously, nothing more.

For a fleeting moment, Astarion was certain he had Tav ensnared at last.

“We don’t need to leave camp for you to feed on me, you know?”

Gods dammit.

There it was again, that insufferable, good-guy tone that made him want to tear his perfect curls—he’d already seen Tav run headlong into danger over some undeserving wretch just under the pretense of doing the right thing. It might just make Astarion ill.

“And you don’t owe me for it, either.” The sincerity in her voice was making his cold skin crawl.

Astarion had lived long enough to know that altruism was a myth. Benevolence was meant to beguile. And anyone offering a hand would want their palms greased.

Tav was either a fool, or the trickiest devil he’d tangled with yet.

The misunderstood outcast card was not his favorite hand to play, but it worked so well on those with a savior complex.

“Oh, I understand.” Astarion said softly, arranging his face into a petulant pout.

Tav’s brows furrowed, and she finally looked back up at him. “You do?”

“I do. Stealing off into the woods with a vampire…” He let his voice trail off, oh so hopelessly. “It is a lot to ask you to put your faith in me.”

“Astarion, that’s not—”

He cut her off with a wounded sigh. “You do not trust me.”

Astarion stood and turned away, shoulders slumped in feigned dejection, waiting for her to take the bait. She would get to her feet and follow. He could count it down in his head.

Three, two, one…

“I do trust you.” Tav’s soft voice was almost pleading.

A slow, satisfied smile curved Astarion’s lips, surprised she’d yet to faint from that bleeding heart.

“Then, trust me.” Astarion purred, closing the distance between them in one sinuous stride. He loomed over her, feeling the rush of her pulse fluttering at the base of her neck.

Tav reached for his hand, but the vampire deftly bypassed it. His long fingers encircled her wrist, the heat of her skin sinking into his palm and warming him already.

Her eyes were wide, nearly luminous in the gathering dusk, but he let his gaze linger on her mouth, his own lips parting ever so slightly.

“Trust me, when I promise you a night you will never forget.” He lowered his voice and let shadows fall over his crimson eyes.

Tav shivered, and Astarion knew it had nothing to do with the temperate air. He could smell her arousal, heady and sweet, as obvious as the almost perfect curl her tiefling tail was making.

“Okay,” she breathed, her word a little more than a sigh. “I trust you.”

A victorious grin spread over his lips and through his veins. He finally had her right where he wanted her. Under his hand as he cupped her cheek, drawing her close, his breath ghosting over her lips before finding her pointed ear.

“See you there, lover.”

part 2

#It's already written not edited #Part two coming soon #Hard to write smut with someone making bad choices for themself #astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #bg3 astarion #astarion ancunin #bg3 #tav #astarion smut #astarion x female tav #baulders gate 3 #astarion fic #astarion fanfic #canon compliant

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