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ma1dita · 3 months

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crazy little thing

a ‘partners in crime’ installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 3.4k

summary: (pre-established relationship) The one where he spends all his drachmas to make you smile. Sometimes, the Apollo kids are better matchmakers than Aphrodite herself. Everyone’s tired of you two dancing around each other. Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader

a/n: lil valentines day special though im working on more est. relationship fluff after this!! happy season 2 renewal babies

(posted 2/9/24 unbetaed)

—

“Come on, you gotta admit—it’s kinda funny!”

Luke is met with blank stares at the camp store after he places a few drachmas onto the folding table in front of the Apollo kids. They’re not sure if he’s trying to convince them, or himself.

Because yeah, that’s the excuse he goes for, wanting to spend his savings on having them sing to a certain head counselor instead of admitting his blatantly obvious feelings, so if you ask Lee Fletcher and his half-siblings, it’s kind of pathetic.

“What do we look like, a traveling mariachi band, Castellan?” he deadpans, watching the usually confident boy scratch the back of his neck with his face red like someone who’s been sitting out in the sun for too long.

“I’m not saying to follow her around all day or whatever, just pick a random time to sing a song and catch her off-guard,” he insists, before meeting the judgmental look of one of Lee’s younger siblings.

Lee chuckles, ruffling his sister’s hair before looking at Luke quite seriously, “She’s a good friend. You’re gonna have to pay us more than that. Special song for a special lady after all.”

The son of Hermes knows he’s gonna regret this sooner or later, but proceeds to throw the rest of his meager earnings onto the table. He has other ways of being resourceful anyway, the box of chocolates he nicked from behind the store counter feeling heavy in his jacket pocket.

“Right…she’s just a friend.”

Luke’s hands fidget at his sides as he stands there, feeling a little stupid.

Lee’s little sister scoops up the coins from the table, her raised eyebrows and light aura mirroring that of her older brother.

“What song were you thinking?” she asks, “Gotta make sure I know it if I’m singing it to your…friend.”

The 18-year-old boy tugs at his dark curls, getting more embarrassed and wanting to retreat with every minute that passes, but he’s never been one to back down from anything–swordfights, monsters, capture the flag, but this—trying to impress you...is a whole different story somehow.

Why are feelings so damn complicated?

It feels like being at the butt of a joke, or more accurately—at the sharp edge of a sword, and Luke never lets his fights end in a draw.

“You guys got it covered. Just…surprise me too, I guess,” he sighs, walking off without finishing his sentence. He wishes he could pray a little harder to his dad for luck, even if he’s unsure of what exactly he’s wishing for (or if his dad will even listen).

“Castellan’s hopeless. You think he knows it yet?” the girl asks her brother, to which Lee laughs.

“I don’t think she does either, even though everyone else can see right through them. The new bets are on who’s gonna break first. Chiron’s been keeping track, but don’t tell Mr. D.”

If Luke wants a show, they’ll make sure he’ll get his money’s worth—and hopefully, it’ll push you two along faster. Lee bet on you two getting together before the summer after all, and he’ll be damned if he loses to Clarisse.

—

Valentine’s Day might be the day of love, but for you, someone who’s single (not by choice), and heavily busy with making sure people aren’t so…enamored in public (you’ve lost count of the reports you’ve written out due to indecent behavior this morning alone)---this just feels like another Wednesday, except with more hormonal teenagers with uncontrollable urges than usual.

Oh, the joys of being the daughter of the camp director, also known as everyone’s favorite narc.

Honestly, love can suck it. With this much love in the air, you can feel it suffocating you like a plastic bag over your head.

That’s an uncontrollable urge. Too much?

Maybe Silena was right, you do need to open yourself up more to romantic opportunities. But if you have to watch another person swap spit and get pawed at like they’re the last dinner roll at the table….You might commit arson and set this place ablaze.

You just didn’t understand why people had to go all out today of all days. Shouldn’t love be shown year-round? Though you were a person of theatrics and enjoy a good show, it is amazing how much grandiose displays of affection make you cringe. It felt very performative, instead of genuine, and you would know, you’re the best actress at camp. You’ve acted out stories before, knowing all of the greatest romances and tragedies by heart. And you pride yourself on being a decent teacher to the campers, but for some of them, love still translates to a bad rendition of a ballad they heard on the radio.

Nothing gets past you at this point.

But that sucks too sometimes, you know?

Multiple failed flings and a heartbreak or two weigh down on you on days like this one, as you’re stuck being a bystander to outlandish displays put on by the Aphrodite kids being put to work. Love is their domain anyway, and yours…makes you feel a little less undesirable. Each demigod has their own strengths and weaknesses, but perhaps in the name of love, some of them don’t know how to take a hint. Several forgettable prose readings, a Sparknotes version of Eros and Psyche, and too many red roses to count have you reeling from exhaustion and a bit of disgust—-and it’s only lunchtime.

So yeah, maybe you’re a little jealous; they could call you Nemesis at this point.

The only flowers you got today were from the little kids from along the path to the strawberry orchard, and though it’s sweet—the human side of you misses affection.

Devotion.

To be a daughter of Dionysus meant to deal in extremes, obsession or nothing, and there are very few people who can handle that. Always being too much to handle, or uninterested as a defense mechanism. Perhaps that’s what scares admirers away.

That, or the fact that Luke Castellan is always attached to your hip. To be honest, you’ve always preferred it that way—the both of you working as a pair always gets things done faster around camp and he brightens your mood, whether you admit it or not.

But you two are just friends.

Really good friends who look for each other in crowded rooms, hands constantly brushing against the other for comfort, and able to pick up where the other one leaves off. Usually he’s the first person you see in the morning, and the last person you say goodnight to. You know how he likes his coffee and he cuts your apples for you as you two sit together in your unassigned seats in the dining pavilion. You watch each other’s workshops and if one of you is missing, everyone knows to ask the other to get an answer.

Right? That’s totally normal coworker/friend behavior.

If you were ever given immortality, perhaps they’d make you the goddess of denial.

You’re sweeping up confetti from the dining hall floor after an uncoordinated excuse of a flash mob was performed for one of the Demeter kids…and not to sound like a heinous bitch, but maybe next time they should use something biodegradable…or less messy. Sighing deeply, you feel someone’s eyes on you, and when you look up, Luke’s standing there with two full plates of food.

“Take a break, trouble. No one’s paying you overtime,” he jokes, and you roll your eyes as you put the broom aside.

“No one’s paying me at all…” you groan, before taking the plate out of his hands and knocking your head against his shoulder in thanks. He snickers as his hand brushes the small of your back, tickling your spine as he leads you to sit at a table.

“Just another holiday. You know how it is.”

“It’d be nice to have a night off though. Sometimes I regret taking up the position,” you mumble through spoonfuls of soup. He throws his large hand over your shoulder, kneading some tension from your trapezius. Head jerking along with the movements, you giggle as soup dribbles off your spoon, which makes his lips quirk into a small smile. Being around you felt so thoughtless and easy that if you told him to jump off a bridge he’d do it without question, which should be more concerning—the hold you have on him is irrevocable. Feelings are way too difficult for his teenage brain to comprehend at this stage. It’s easier to wash dishes with lava or fight off a dragon (bad example, he knows, but there’s something about you that already makes him feel like he’s losing before anything’s even happened).

Luke is someone who fights until the end, a soldier who’s always trained and so ready that sometimes it makes you wonder what war he’s preparing for. Infatuation, or the scarier, four-letter word was not something he was ever briefed on.

“No, you don’t. You’re a control freak,” he says with a grin.

Luke watches you play with the pendant on your necklace, the dragon scale he fashioned into your favorite accessory glinting in your hand. Running your fingers back and forth over the smooth surface, your other hand puts the spoon down and you place your head on his shoulder. He thinks if he had to describe the four-letter word on the tip of his tongue, he’d tell whoever’s asking about the way you kissed his healing cheek after you both left the Garden of Hesperides. More than a year later, Luke is still unable to find the right words even if the weakness has made a home in his heart with your name written all over it.

“I swear if I have to hear another person croak out a lovesong I might just drown myself in the Long Island Sound,” you scoff as his fingers trace circles onto your waist.

There’s a low strum of a guitar that reaches your ears and your forehead meets the cool surface of the table as you shut your eyes and grumble. It’s Lee and his half-siblings, beginning to walk through the hall seconds away from singing until they see Luke shaking his head and dragging his finger across his throat to please, gods, stop. The Apollo kids swivel and 180, walking out of the hall as the music stops dissonantly, rolling their eyes and dragging their feet.

“That was quick,” you say inquisitively as your head pops up from the table to see Luke looking off in the distance.

“Heh…I think they were just practicing or something…”

He then had to run off and pay them more drachmas for the inconvenience.

Fucking hustlers.

—

The sun sets quickly on Camp Half-Blood since it’s mid-February, and Luke finds you trying to calm your nerves as you look at the mess of glitter and paper mache that covers the arts and crafts hall from floor to ceiling.

“I can’t believe this!” you say in disbelief as you look at Luke, and he takes the can of Redbull out of your shaking hand.

“There’s just no fucking way everyone decided to use glitter. It’s everywhere! I’m—CONNOR, PUT THE SCISSORS DOWN!”

Luke sighs as he holds his hand out for his younger brother to give up the craft scissors, which he relinquishes with a mischievous grin.

“Guys, go find trouble somewhere else,” Luke mutters, pushing his head away, and where Connor goes, Travis quickly follows, tossing a canister of glitter back at him and not knowing it was still open.

“Oops.”

Immediately, the both of you are showered in iridescent particles, floating over your heads and stuck in your hair as the older Stoll brother looks at the two of you wide-eyed.

“You've already got trouble anyway,” he says teasingly, and this asshole winks at Luke before bolting out the door.

The room is silent now, and you pinch the bridge of your nose, before speaking, “I don’t care if he’s your brother, Luke. I might just fucking kill him.” You'd say more but your eyes are shut as you try not to breathe in glitter, and then the sound of the doorknob rattling catches your attention. Luke is standing there, finally faced with a door he can’t open, his eyebrows furrowed in annoyance–but the effect isn’t as menacing as it should be when he’s covered in red and pink sparkles.

“Not if I get to him first, the little bastard.”

“Just open the door,” you say panicked, running over and forcing his hands off the doorknob.

“I can’t if you won’t let me do it!” He grits, elbowing you and trying to unlock the door with both his inherited gift and brute strength.

“What kind of demigod even are you? Lockpicking is supposed to be your thing!”

“Well OBVIOUSLY, but it’s not working, now is it, trouble?”

Luke finishes off the rest of your energy drink before throwing the can over his shoulder and he swears he can hear you cuss at him under your breath as you berate him about the mess, so he chooses to focus on busting the door down instead of looking at the glitter stuck in your eyelashes and thinking about how the idea of being stuck in a room with you makes him feel weak at the knees. Through the window, his eyes meet the group of Apollo kids staring at the predicament you two are in (and the barricade of chairs the Stoll brothers put in front of the door). He sighs, and Lee’s little sister flips him off as they start to walk away again, instruments in tow.

“You gonna charge him again?”

A tiny Will Solace looks at his elders for guidance as they walk along the path. As one of the youngest in the bunch, he especially idolizes anything his half-siblings do, going along with whatever they see fit.

“No, but we’re close enough to the archery range that I might just shoot them through their hearts myself. Eros and Aphrodite themselves are pretty much begging us to,” Lee grumbles.

“Why are we doing this again?” Will babbles, and his half-sister grabs his hand to help him walk faster.

“A crazy little thing called love. You’ll understand it better someday, kid.”

—

Thankfully, it all starts winding down after dinner. Luke finds you leaning against a tree flipping through your clipboard during the camp sing-along, so he tugs at your elbow to get your attention.

“Wanna get out of here?”

You look at him, slotting your pen behind your ear as you notice faint glitter particles still dotted along his cheeks. As your lips pull into a small smile, you say, "I still have a few things to do after this, don't you?"

"Cleared your schedule for the night," he mumbles, and whether it's the glow of the bonfire or he's actually blushing, a teasing expression crosses your face as you step closer and cross your arms at him.

"You cleared my schedule for the night. How on earth did you do that?"

Instead of a proper reply, he grabs your hand, tugging you out to the docks near the lake.

"Don't worry about it."

He's not going to tell you that he owes Chris and Annie a few favors before the end of the month to make up for the night shift they ended up taking. Instead, you both sit cross-legged at the edge of the dock, a gentle breeze brushing at your clothes and for the first time today, you're able to just exist.

"I hate Valentine's Day," you suddenly say, looking up at the night sky, and he's watching you closely as the gentle shine of the moon casts a cool glow on your face. Luke cringes at your statement, thinking he's already thrown away his shot.

"Why's that?"

"Tell me something Luke, am I unlikable? Like, is there anything wrong with me?"

He looks at you like you've told him you’re secretly a cyclops.

“The fuck? How many times do I have to tell you that everyone thinks you’re great?"

You don't even give him a chance to finish his sentence before you blurt, "I don’t want to be great, I want to be loved!" Reeling back a little, you lean back on your hands to create some distance.

“Sorry... that was a lot, and I’m just...wanting to be noticed. It's nice to have people's attention sometimes, you know?”

You’ve got all of mine, he thinks, realizing he never stood a chance at fighting it—this four-letter feeling you give him is the first and only battle he’ll back down from, and you're the only person he’ll wholeheartedly surrender to.

In short, he’s fucked.

"I always notice you." He pulls out a dented box of chocolates from his jacket pocket, opening it up for the both of you to share, and the look of amusement on your face makes him glad that at least one thing somewhat went to plan today, even if the chocolate truffles are a bit smushed. You’re popping one into your mouth and his dark eyes follow the trail of your fingers to your mouth, feeling his heart beat a bit faster.

But then you both hear the soft strum of a guitar from near the trees, and the two of you turn to hear some of the Apollo kids singing beautifully along the coastline.

I'll be seeing you, in all the old, familiar places...That this heart of mine embraces...

You gasp, grabbing Luke’s arm to push yourself up so that the both of you can turn and face a small group of your closest Apollo friends singing to the both of you. Luke’s eyes soften further when he feels you grab his hand and squeeze, leaning against his shoulder as you listen.

“Did you do this?” you mumble, still entranced by the performance.

“Only if it makes you laugh.”

And you do, in the way that he loves—a bit crazy and too loud, and it’s perfect.

I’ll always think of you that way…I’ll find you in the morning sun….

Whether it’s fireflies or Will bouncing light off the water to look like small, glowing candles, Luke can’t tell—he’s too busy watching your lips pull into a smile so confectionery his sweet tooth starts to ache. The little kid was never good at archery like his other half-siblings, but as your eyes shimmer under the ambient lights, you think his added romantic gesture shot you straight through the heart.

“You know, sometimes I really do hate you, Luke Castellan,” you whisper, and it couldn’t be more far from the truth.

“No, you don’t.”

His eyes flicker to you again, but you’re already looking back at him.

“I don’t.”

And when the night is new, I’ll be looking at the moon…but I’ll be seeing you…

It’s quiet now, and you’re unsure of where the Apollonian ensemble disappeared to but instead of worrying about if they’ll make it back before curfew, you stand there in front of Luke with your guard down.

Getting a little closer than he expected, your noses brush before you pull the slightly crushed wildflowers from your jean pocket, the only physical reminder you’ve kept from today, and tuck them into his jacket pocket, sitting right above his heart.

“Thank you.”

Luke doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath until he feels your lips gently kiss the marred skin on his right cheek, the blemish having an uncanny resemblance to a stroke of lightning; it serves as a reminder of his weakness. The lines blur as his eyes close to savor it and he doesn’t know if weakness is your kisses or his scar—but he is vulnerable to it all the same, realizing there’s a crack in the otherwise perfect persona that he’s worked so hard on. When his eyes open again, his Achilles’ heel has taken human form.

—

“This has got to be cheating,” Clarisse grumbles as she watches from the distance, hidden behind the trees.

“It’s not cheating if I’m winning. Silena’s gonna get a kick out of this,” Lee chuckles, ushering everyone back towards the cabins. It’s a bit harder to do this in the dark as they try to be quiet and not interrupt whatever will happen next between their favorite counselors.

“Well lucky for you, your gifts are cute and romantic, what am I supposed to do? They fight enough!”

“That’s what got them into this mess in the first place. Come on, curfew’s in 10. We’ll find out which of us wins the bet soon enough,” Chris mutters, pushing them along back onto the main path.

“Easy for you to say, Rodriguez, you live with Luke!”

“Would I ever lie to you, La Rue?” he says with a mischievous grin, and the Apollo kids giggle at the irony.

—

“My body ages,

my anger burns into a seam.

I am so annoyed by love

and still it comes.”

-Kate Baer

ask to be added to luke/general taglists!

luke taglist (some won't let me tag, turn on my post notifs?): @kissingyourgrl @dorcas4meadowes @lorarri @andrewgarfldsgf @noodlesketchbook @10ava01 @poppysrin @ashisabitgay @timhalamet @liv1104 @leeknows-wife @mxtokko @bugcuti3 @luvvfromme @midmourn @2hiigh2cry @yuminako @niktwazny303 @lukecastellandefender @intergalactic-padawan @iliketopgun @annybah @dangelnleif @thegrinningghost @alyssajunelle @obxstiles @m00ng4z3r @visndcaitswhore @b0ok-lover @elegant-face-tree @this-barbie-is-having-breakdowns @amortencjja @idonevenknow1359 @maliaaaa @targaryenluvs @sakyira @dhdjdjjdhsjdiri @number-onekidqueen @bradynoonswife @stevenknightmarc @hoodedhavok @happy-mushrooms @homebyeleven @anotherblackreader @too-deviant @liviessun @lilacspider @theadventuresofanartist @sucker4seresin @simpforsunwoo @zanzie @starrystormwritings

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x dionysus!reader #luke castellan x reader fanfic #pjo x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #luke castellan fluff #made by ma1dita ♥︎#trouble!verse #thank you for reading my love ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

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sharkiethrts · 9 months

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[𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙜𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙡'𝙨 𝙘𝙝𝙞𝙡𝙙𝙝𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙗𝙪𝙗𝙗𝙡𝙚𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙨𝙤𝙙𝙖 𝙥𝙤𝙥𝙨]

𝘗𝘙𝘖𝘔𝘗𝘛: 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘫𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘶𝘢𝘯

g/n reader

: both jing yuan and reader are young children here, jing yuan is pining (ineffectively) at the reader

: approximately 465 words (chat gpt said so)

Jing Yuan is late again. At this point, it is a familiar routine: he'd run in with sweat beading up at his forehead- Jingliu would throw a faded hankie at his face, urging him to wipe it off with a glance before nagging at him- "what's your reason this time?" "Did you oversleep?" "Did you go to eat your breakfast at Mr Zhang's store again? The queue is too long there. Go eat at the canteen instead- you children are too whiny about soldier rations."

The truth is, Jing yuan never oversleeps and he always skips breakfast. It isn't a military regime he put himself on at all, no. If Jingliu knew that the brat in front of him was skipping breakfast, she would order the senior guards to eat breakfast with him. He would have to suffer from indigestion for the next few weeks (the senior guards adores picking on the apple-cheeked boy) until Jingliu is finally convinced that the brat will listen.

But he won't ever listen because Jing Yuan has a long route to take that he can't afford to miss. Your route. Well, not your route. It's the route through Cloudford. For context: where Jingliu expects him to be at every dawn is miles away. But this lovesick boy remains stubborn, he travels the route to Cloudford with a boyish grin- a blush would bundle up at his round cheeks when he spots you in your familiar attire, your uniform stained with food crumbs from your rush.

"[Name]! Wait up!" And when you do stop, a pretty sight is granted to you- perhaps a morning call from the Eons? There's no way anyone can remain nonchalant and sleepy at the sight of this messy haired, toothpaste decorated face, "Are you heading to class? I heard that your Master brought over some swords he specifically commissioned from the Artisanship Commission! I saw! Let me spoil you in a bit of the fun- one of them is fully jaded, and another-"

He definitely rushed to see you.

"Shouldn't you be going to yours? Miss Jingliu would kill you if she knew that you're all the way at Cloudford right now, Jing Yuan."

His eyes crinkled from the widening of his smile at the call of his name, "She'll survive! Let me walk you there-"

"Jing Yuan. Your cloud knight training?"

Oh eons, did you not hear his plead this morning? Jing Yuan turned slowly, adjusting his attire- trying not to slouch in fear. Getting scolded in front of the other Cloud knights is not as embarrassing and as tear-jerking as it is in front of you. Not to mention, his master knows all the grimy details under his sleeves.

And there she was, in her glory- her sharp eyes piercing his through one strike. He bends over immediately, face apologetic- catching glimpse of your smiling face, clearly amused by the scene taking place in front of you.

"You have toothpaste on your face, boy," Jing Yuan's face flushed red at the newly learned information. Ah crap, did you see that? He glances at your face briefly- yeah, you definitely did. Curse his heart- he was so excited to talk to you he stumbled at basic cleanliness.

"I think it makes him cute, you shouldn't have told him, Miss Jingliu," You hum. You are one of the few unaffected by the intimidation his master poses- your frequent rendezvous with Jing Yuan hyper-exposed you to Jingliu's more reasonable sides.

"[Name], go to class. Your master is waiting for you," Jingliu turns to him, and he immediately regrets not shifting his gaze down at his feet earlier," As for you," she waits for you to go, "Confess soon. I don't want to keep chastising you on your... inconvenient hobbies."

A smile blooms at his face at that.

"Yes Master! Duly noted!"

#jing yuan #honkai star rail #jing yuan hsr #honkai star rail x reader #hsr #jing yuan imagines #jing yuan x reader #jingyuan x reader #jingyuan #jingliu #young jing yuan #jing yuan fluff #honkai star rail fluff #jing yuan x you #hsr x you #star rail x reader #sharkie works ; all honkai #sharkie works ; jing yuan

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chaoticbardlady99 · 4 months

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I Wondered if I Could Come Home? (Astarion x Pregnant F! Reader) MDNI 18+ Part 2

CW: Smut, insecurities, pregnancy sex, PIV

Tag-list: @im-just-a-simp-le-whore @starstruck-mj-writings @divineknightmare

Part 1 is on my Masterlist :)

This is unedited because I’m tired 😂💜

Photo belongs to @cheekylittlepupp on Tumblr

“These are all truly terrible options, Darling,” Astarion whispers into your ear, “I feel like putting anyone in this should be considered abuse.”

You try and fail to suppress the laughter- covering your mouth with your hand when another woman shoots you a glare. You should regret dragging Astarion in here, but you don’t. He’s right- this place has absolutely nothing adorable and you hate shopping here. You are very happy he shares the same sentiment.

This was an unplanned stop in the grand scheme of the evening. Astarion had insisted on taking you on a date the moment you woke up this morning. When you went to protest and say, “I look like a beached whale, no”- you were thoroughly kicked by Eowyn.

You picked the name Eowyn together a little over a month after Astarion first arrived. It’s almost month 7 now and although Astarion missed out for a few months- your daughter and him are already peas in a pod.

You disagree with Astarion? Kick. If you pick a book that doesn’t interest him? Kick. You get hormonal, angry, and Astarion sounds even slightly sad? You bet you are gonna be running to the bathroom to throw up. She’s a spiteful fucking kid and you cannot catch a break. You are the one carrying her and yet!

You suppose you can’t blame her though. You don’t want to give him any reason to leave anymore than she does. You know Astarion won’t leave again, but that worry is also silently there.

“Darling,” Astarion whispers, “come look at this atrocity.”

Astarion scrunches up his nose and picks up one of the other baby outfits. He looks at you with a “really?” and shows you a piece of fabric fashioned into a onesie with “Selune Loves Me”. You don’t even bother to suppress your snort of laughter.

“I have a horrible feeling that Shadowheart will be buying that for Eowyn,” you sigh.

“Oh no- not if I can help it!” Astarion puts the onesie back (he even folds it), “our kid is going to be a raging atheist and I will have it no other way!”

“And if she decides to be a cleric or a paladin?”

Astarion grumbles a “well that’s different” under his breath. He opens the door for you and bows dramatically as you walk through it. Astarion’s smile is brighter than the sun when you giggle.

“I’m glad you are willing to support all possible life paths, Star,” you tease.

“I will eventually convince her to change her mind,” he muses, “we’ll begin putting swords and instruments in front of her and hope she turns out better than Volo.”

You huff at him and roll your eyes. He intertwined his fingers with yours and you continued the rest of your date.

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

You are laying in your bed- remaining absolutely still. Astarion seems like he is still sleeping?

Whatever sick fuck keeps adding spice into your life, has gifted you an incredibley real sex dream with Astarion. Again.

You told yourself you were going to behave- certainly not because you want to. It’s out of respect for Astarion and his boundaries. You don’t know what he’s been up to or if he would even want to while you look like this.

Oh wonderful- tears.

The hardest part of this whole pregnancy nonsense is that you don’t feel good about yourself or how you look. You didn’t necessarily have the best self esteem to start with, but your body changing in front of you almost every day wasn’t helping. You know your hips have gotten slightly wider and your breasts have gotten bigger. You try to be active as much as possible so you feel some control and you eat as healthy as you possibly can without lacking nutrients, but none of it felt like enough. You feel disgusting.

Your silent tears fall down your cheeks as you suppress your pitiful sniffling. If you close your eyes, you’ll eventually fall asleep. That’s what you usually do and that’s what you did when Astarion was gone. Sleep heals everything.

Maybe your body has finally had enough of pushing all of the discomfort back. All those feelings of being unwanted, unloved, and not like yourself are ripping you apart at the seams as they rush to your eyes.

You begin to move away from Astarion- deciding it would be better for you to sit in your little rocking chair and read for a bit. There is no reason to make yourself upset over something you can’t change. Your pregnancy will be over soon enough anyhow.

“Darling?”

Astarion’s voice pierces the silence and his fingers are clinging to your shirt as if to keep you there.

You clear your throat, “yes my Star?”

“Where are you going?”

Astarion sounds incredibly worried. It’s been hard for him to see you when you are sick or when you are obviously picking yourself apart in the mirror. Astarion is constantly worrying about your vertigo and you walking around without him or Shadowheart to catch you.

You told him that his worry isn’t necessary and that you would let him know if you were feeling dizzy or like you were going to pass out. You don’t want to bring harm to yourself or your child.

“I know you know your body, Darling,” Astarion says with his shoulders slumped and a slight frown on his lips, “I have no right to tell you what you can or cannot do, but please, my Love. I just found you again. I can’t even fathom the idea of-“

Astarion had broken down sobbing, then you began to cry, and then Eowyn was kicking so you caved and promised to let him know if you were leaving the room.

You roll over to look at him and his eyebrows raise in alarm. You hastily run the tears away and smile.

“I was just going to sit on the rocking chair.”

Astarion just squints at you and you avoid his gaze- looking up out the window.

“The moon is very pret-“

“Tav, why were you crying?”

Dammit. It’s the “I’m serious” Astarion voice.

“Oh uh,” you chuckle awkwardly, “I just had an interesting dream and it led to interesting thoughts- then TADA pregnancy hormones.”

Astarion flashes you a teasing smile before ghosting his lips over yours.

“Oh I am very aware of these ‘interesting’ dreams of yours, Darling. I’ve been waiting for you to finally ask me to re-enact a few.”

Your heart stops momentarily and you blink a couple times. There is no way you heard that correctly. You begin to tear up and Astarion’s brows furrow in concern.

“You don’t want that,” you say in a low voice, a stray tear rolls down your cheek, “I look disgusting.”

His lips are on yours in an instance- a whimper leaves your lips as you feel a warm stirring between your legs. It’s almost embarrassing how desperately your body wants him- craves him. Being kissed like this by him again is a blessing.

“I wish you would stop trying to guess what I want when it comes to you,” he sighs against your lips, “and I wish you could see how beautiful you are- all the time.”

“My body has just changed so much- to me anyway,” you whisper, “I worry that I’m not attractive to you anymore.”

Astarion grabs your hand with his and guides you down to the front of his underwear- opening your hand so that you palm against his erection. You blush furiously when he forces your eyes to meet his with his other hand. His pupils are blown wide with lust.

“Does it feel like I’m not attracted to you anymore?”

“No,” you whisper shyly.

“I want you desperately,” he places a chaste kiss on your lips, “As I always have.”

You feel embarrassed by the sigh of relief that leaves your mouth upon his confession. You want to be with him this way so badly it hurts. You hesitantly wrap your leg around his hip and you pull him in for a kiss.

Astarion’s lips are soft against yours. You keep a slow pace- unsure of how far he would be willing to go.

You find out pretty quickly when you feel his hands find your underwear- tearing away the fabric completely. You pout against his lips playfully.

“I liked those.”

“I’ll buy you a thousand more pairs, my Love.”

“But-“

The breath leaves your body when you feel his fingers begin to play with your clit. Astarion roughly presses the pads of his fingers against your clit- the additional friction making you keen in pleasure.

Astarion starts to pull away and your hands find purchase in his hair- pulling him back to you. Your desperation spurs him on and your lips are crashing against each other at a fast pace.

You feel him pull you back by your hair, making you look at him- you open your mouth to protest, but then you feel one of his fingers slide into you. Astarion pushes himself all the way into you with his finger until his palm is teasing your already sensitive clit. He must realize how ready you are for him because he enters a second finger and then a third shortly after.

The feeling of his fingers inside of you are intoxicating and the way he is looking at you is even more so. Your moans are on display for him to see- Astarion’s hand in your hair has yet to loosen as he finger fucks you relentlessly.

“So good, so perfect,” he says, “and I’m the only one who will ever have the pleasure of breeding you.”

Astarion’s words rip something inside of you open- you begin to clench around his fingers hard as your climax sinks into your body. His name falls from your lips like a prayer.

It probably is- if you are being entirely honest to yourself. Astarion looks ethereal under the moonlight that floods the room. His curls are mussed up a bit from sleep, his lips turned upward and slightly parted as he watched you be overtaken with pleasure.

Astarion leaves a chaste kiss on your lips and moves your hair out of your face. He sits up and pulls you onto his lap and traces the veins in your neck down to your collarbones. His hands meet in the middle to unlace your shirt all while making eye contact the entire time.

“Gods,” Astarion whispers as he kisses down your chest, “you are exquisite, my Love.”

You must have forgotten what it was like to be under Astarion’s lustful hands and loving gaze. Your dreams were nowhere like this.

You whine at the skin contact and you feel yourself clench around nothing. The feeling of his cold fingers running along your skin- how they tease and pinch your sensitive nipples. Astarion’s word of praise alone are enough to get you off.

“So needy.”

Astarion takes one of your sensitive nubs into his mouth- sucking and grazing it with his fangs. His other hand begins to trail downward as grinds his erection up into your unclothed, soaking folds.

“Have you missed me, Darling?” Astarion coos, “has no one else been able to make you feel this way since I’ve been gone?”

You know exactly what he is asking.

“Yes,” you say breathlessly, “because my hands are nowhere as skilled as yours.”

Astarion’s laughter fills the air and your body with joy. His hand moves to release his erection from his underwear. You gasp at the sight and your hand immediately goes downwards- you feel him growl against your breast when you swipe your finger through some of his precum.

You look down and his eyes are on yours as you put your finger between your lips, licking it clean.

Astarion moves his attention from your breasts- pulling you by your hair down to his mouth so he can taste himself on you. The other hand lines him up with your entrance before pulling you down by your hips at the same time he thrusts upward.

You see stars as Astarion grazes that perfect spot inside of you. His hands had untangled from your hair a while ago, both of his hands guiding your hips down so that you continue to take his full length.

“Astar- I’m going to- fuck,” you cry out as his fingers find your clit again.

“You are going to what, my Dear? I’m afraid I didn’t catch that,” he says teasingly, his thrusts getting sloppier as you clench harder and harder.

“I- I,” your eyes roll in the back of your head as you pitch forward, putting your face in the crook of his neck. Your moans reverberate through the room- your voice is almost guttural from the intense amount of pleasure you are experiencing.

Astarion’s orgasm followed yours quickly- his moans coming out ragged and incoherent as he fills you to the brim with his seed.

You kiss his cheek, along his cheek bone, and then back until you are in the crook of his neck again.

“You are the most incredible woman I have ever had the privilege to lay eyes on,” Astarion says fondly, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Star,” your blissfully fucked body relaxes against his.

You don’t remember when you began to fall asleep or when Astarion repositioned you so that you were spooning. The only thing you can recall is Astarion kissing your shoulder, neck, and behind your ear while whispering his gratitude and love for you into your skin.

#astarion x female reader #baldurs gate 3 #astarion #astarion x reader #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x you #astarion romance #astarion x tav #bg3 spoilers #bg3 #karlach #pregnancy #Astarion x pregnant reader #astarion x f!tav #bg3 astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion x f! reader #astar

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casualheizouenjoyers · 11 months

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- secrets i have held in my heart

featuring: jing yuan, bailu, yanqing, reader

warnings: a bit angsty ig, hanahaki au, blood, sickness, throwing up, coughing and just general sick stuff

Orchids grow where others cannot.

This phrase reigns especially true when orchids begin to grow in your body. Scratching your throat and clogging up your lungs.

You try to laugh it off as a small cough, a small sickness, as if the whole thing didn’t fill you with dread when you thought about the invasive plant infesting your every breath.

It isn’t until finally you violently cough over your sink that a bloodied white orchid petal came fluttering out.

Were… you some form of mara struck? You wondered in confusion at the collection of petals that grew with each hack of your lungs.

The high elder —Bailu— immediately takes up your case. Which is potentially concerning as you’ve gone to about possibly any doctor that will see you for some kind of explanation to your floral fever and none of them have had anything good to say.

In fact, they have nothing to say about your illness. No one knew what was causing the orchids to bloom, making a home of your decaying body; a pretty parasite taking you ahold.

The little Vidyadhara girl frowned upon seeing the collection of whole flowers and crumbled petals, all coated with a splattered layer of dried blood.

Bailu’s eyes squinted as she observed the floral.

Perhaps, it was some kind of achievement that you had every doctor and healer on the luofu stumped at your conditions?

It isn’t until you’re coughing out another flower, this time red covering it was still vibrant and liquid, that the healer decided you were some form of mara struck and needed to be monitored closely. Even as she wrote out her prescription and made you promise to come back the next week, you could tell she wasn’t too sure about what she was saying.

That did absolutely nothing to calm your nerves.

You go home after collecting your prescription and puke out leaves and stems along with the flowers.

Despite your sickness, work is work, you decided, and working as a tutor was fulfilling for you. You hope —prayed— that the sight of your favorite student, Yanqing, would bring you some form of joy. The lesson went smoothly, though it was clear your student’s mind was up in the clouds, but you didn’t comment about it as yours was rooted deep elsewhere.

With the closing of the textbook, Yanqing’s eyes light up.

“Can we swordfight now?” The teenaged boy asked.

You almost said no.

You had realized early on that Yanqing would do his work and pay attention better if you found a way to relate it to swordsmanship, or if you promised that the two of you would spar a little after a lesson.

There was a growing weakness in your body. It seemed that describing the flowers as a parasite wasn’t inaccurate, as every day went on you felt them drain the energy out of you.

Yanqing waited for your response.

You nodded, standing up and picking up your sword from where it rested on a wall. Once, you had used it as a cloud knight, now it only ever saw use when teaching the blonde boy.

Yanqing excitedly ran to the other side of the room, drawing his sword and getting into position. He paused, looking over at you.

When did your eyes become so sunken in? Your hand shook as you held your sword up and it became increasingly clear to Yanqing that you were in no position to swordfight.

Your student called out your name, a hint of concern in his voice.

“I— Give me a moment—” You called out, placing a hand on your head as a sudden headache came, making your vision blur and your legs lose balance as you head tumbling for the floor.

Yanqing tossed his sword far away as he slid to catch you.

Bailu is halfway through her yearly appointment with the general when you come in with Yanqing by your side.

You mumbled apologies for the interruption and swore on your life you were fine.

You had honestly not realized how bad things had gotten in the few days from the last time you had seen the healer.

Your heart fluttered at the sight of Jing Yuan.

The orchid also fluttered out of your mouth in a set of coughs that leave you out of breath on the ground, Yanqing down at your side again.

There are multiple voices speaking but your mind can focus on none of them.

Jing Yuan helped you up and you feel your heart clench up as a choke comes to your throat.

More orchids.

He whispered to you in a soft voice, trying to help you through this coughing fit as Yanqing explained the situation that had happened just a few minutes before.

Bailu watched this, shock painted on the girls face as she realized two truths.

You were indeed mara struck, just with a rare mutation that had gone out thousands of years ago.

You were also in love with the general

and it was going to be the death of you.

#piers writes #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan #hsr #hsr fic #hanahaki au #gender neutral reader #a little angst as a treat #teehee #who wrote this broooo #part two when #??#dont ask me

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idyllcy · 5 months

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the second - jinshi x reader (bonus to so i don't know how to love)

Jinshi has been more quiet lately.

Maomao first takes note of it on the second week, and on the third, the poor eunuch looks like he's aged to fifty-six. She blinks at the eunuch, and it seemed another annoying request would be arriving at her doorstep soon. She would have preferred that it stay quiet. But of course, something had to happen. Something always does.

"Maomao." Jinshi groans from the desk.

His usual smirk is replaced by his hair, and his forehead rests on the desk, his head spinning as his soul practically slips past his lips. He's much older, now that she looks at him. Perhaps the worrying over his missing wife had taken a toll— but he had looked much much younger when he had picked her up from the spring residence a year ago.

Maomao smiles to the best of her ability. "Yes?"

"Can you prescribe some chinese medicine that is good for a healthy baby."

Maomao blinks. "Are one of the consorts pregnant already?"

"No." He moves his face to rest on his cheek. "My wife is pregnant with our second."

Maomao blinks incredulously, slowly, utterly confusedly. "She let you sleep with you after—" She shuts herself up, forcing a smile on her face instead. Too many questions would get her nowhere. After all, the madam had just returned. She was not about to make her regret her decision. Though, it seemed the poor guy had been using her day and night for his sexual needs. She feels bad. That poor woman.

Jingui peers from the door at his father, blinking.

"Is niang alright?" Jinshi opens his arms for his son to give him a hug.

Maomao shudders at the affection.

"Niang just woke up." Jingui hums. "I am visiting before my shared class with the princess."

"Very well." He sends him on his way with a kiss on his forehead.

Maomao blinks at Jinshi. "Medicine for the madam?"

"For her pregnancy."

"Isn't she too old to be having children?"

"Aren't you too old to be single?"

"Hey, don't bully the child." You click your tongue disdainfully at the door, and Maomao nods at you as you pass her and stop. "Hand."

Her eyes light up when you drop her some poisonous flowers from your handkerchief.

"That should be enough, right?"

Maomao nods, lips curled into a smile. "You're so much better than he is."

You laugh, smile radiant, and Maomao waves goodbye as she rushes off for the herbs.

"You don't need to bully me for each time I say something out of pocket to her, you know?" Jinshi pouts, looking to the side.

"Have you stopped to consider that she's not married because she doesn't want it?" You roll your eyes. "I heard stress is bad for the baby. You better not go around stressing me out."

Jinshi makes a face of betrayal at you, mouth open and frustrated.

"Niang! The princess wants to see you fight!" Jingui calls from outside, and you hum.

"It's bad for the baby!" Jinshi yells back.

"It's fine." You hum. "Unless you want to pose as me?"

Jinshi grimaces. "I am coming with."

"Fine with me!" You hum. "Niang's coming!"

Maomao stops on her way back to the study with the medicine, staring as you show the princess how to use the sword, holding back a laugh at the way Jinshi looks like he's about to throw up. Well, this isn't the worst thing.

"Madam! Your medicine." Maomao motions at the pot, and you grimace.

Jinshi catches you before you can run away, and your son takes the pot from her with a nod.

Maybe this isn't half as bad.

#jinshi x reader #apothecary diaries x reader #Kusuriya no Hitorigoto x reader #☾.blurbs

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marvelmymarvel · 11 months

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Not Special

Kakashi Hatake x NarutoMotherFigure!Reader

Synopsis: Before Naruto, you were a feared kunoichi who killed thousands before the age of 14. Naruto didn't know any of this, which is why you weren't anything special to him. But that all changes after the Hokage asks you to pick the sword up again to protect the village against an impending threat.

Naruto Masterlist: Here

“My mom isn't anyone special. She's just normal!”

Kakashi’s eyebrow shot up at that, eyes landing on the blonde as he talked adamantly to Sakura about how cool the other kid's parents were - and how uncool you were. He pursed his lips, fighting back the urge to spill the truth about you and your past, but he knew you wanted to keep it a secret. You weren't proud of it; it was much bloodier than his was. You gave it up for Naruto when he came along. Your time in the ninja world was short, yet many feared you.

All things Naruto didn't know.

But Kakashi couldn't stop his questions from coming out, wondering why Naruto saw you as a ‘weakling’ in the first place. “You say Y/n isn't special? How come?” Naruto stopped in his tracks, eyes narrowing at Kakashi. “Well, she’s not a shinobi, first off. Secondly, all she does nowadays is help out at the daycare-”

“So that makes her not special?”

“Come on Kakashi-Sensei. You know what I mean! She's just not as strong as we are… Ya know?”

The silence that hung in the air made Naruto shift on his feet, unnerved by his Sensei's sudden change in attitude. It was almost like he was challenging him to say another word. But Naruto knew better. “You don't know anything about who she was before you came along, Naruto….”

“Wasn’t she 14? Kakashi-Sensei, I’m not sure she could have done much damage by the time she had turned 14-”

“That's enough” Kakashi’s sharp tone had Naruto shutting his mouth from fear; he didn't know how or why, but his statement cut deep. Kakashi wished you would have told Naruto about your past, why you stopped fighting, and why you kept it hidden. He wouldn't have to continuously hear about how ‘weak’ you were if you had just told Naruto everything.

“Now, let's begin our mission, shall we?”

Days had passed since Naruto left for his mission with the rest of team 7. You made Kakashi promise to keep him safe, which allowed you to focus on other ways to help the community. You had just handed off the last toddler to their parent and headed into the daycare to clean up your room. A figure in the middle of the mess caused you to jump in your spot - “Lord third! You scared me.”

He hummed at that before leaning against a bookshelf, pipe in between his teeth as he took in the chaotic room. The Third Hokage was against the path you chose; he’d have you as his personal guard if it were his way. He respected your wishes and respected them for 12 years, but now, as the threat of an enemy loomed over the village, he was coming back to you with a new offer.

One you simply cannot refuse.

“It is quite a shame that you gave up the Jonnin life at 14. You were a fine student, almost, if not better than Kakashi was,” He started as he moved through the room, his old eyes scanning over the arts and crafts drying on the tables.

Your lips pursed at the sound of the Third Hokage’s words. You’ve heard this rant before; it was his specialty. He’d build you up with praise and acknowledgment, making you feel like you were the only person who could save the village before throwing an offer for you to return to the ninja life. You couldn't deny you missed it but didn't miss the blood. Didn't miss the death. Raising Naruto was more rewarding than killing hundreds of people for the village's sake.

Yet, you listened. Soaking up every word he told you as if you needed to hear them. He continued, recounting all of your successes before stopping to look at a particular picture on the wall. It was of you and your classroom, all in the picture, smiling. Did he want to do this? You sighed before bending down to pick up the toys on the floor.

“You don't just give praise without a request. Get on with it, Lord Third. I have a classroom to clean up.”

His eyes flicked to your figure. Your tone alone told him that your walls were up, and you wouldn't let him easily throw his suggestion over them. You would put up a fight, but maybe if he added Naruto into the mix, then you’d listen.

“You care about Naruto’s well-being, yes?”

Your body froze as your fingers hovered over a toy, your heart lurching in your throat as you braced yourself for this new approach. This was a sick, twisted way of getting what he wanted. He’s done this to you many times before, and while you know it's a trap, you always walk into it. You don't answer him, but your silence does.

“There's a threat looming over the village… I’ve gathered my best men, but I’m still missing the greatest one of all….” You sighed at that, eyebrows crinkling in pain as you felt the guilt creeping up your neck, practically strangling you with its cold bony fingers. “Naruto won't be safe if you can't help protect the village.”

There it was.

Your e/c eyes flicked to his as you stood up straight. He was right in a sick, twisted kind of way. If you were involved, the threat would be easily avoidable. But how would you tell Naruto? You never once told him how many you’ve saved and never how many you’ve butchered in the name of the leaf village. He didn't know of the nightmares you shared with Kakashi or the vomiting due to the stress your young body was under.

He didn't know any of it.

To him, you were just a daycare teacher. But to the village, to your Hokage, you were more.

“I would like you to join the ANBU. When the threat passes, I will let you decide if you want to stay in the ANBU or return to this lifestyle.”

Your eyes brimmed with tears, and you fought the panic in your chest. You’ve been on a couple of missions with the ANBU; they were more ruthless than you were. Your teary eyes drifted to the picture beside the Hokage, lip pursing as you took in the smiling faces of the children you cared for daily. It wasn't just about you or Naruto; it never was.

“What do you say?”

You looked back at him before nodding slowly, “I will join the ANBU, but once this is over. I will never be picking up a Kunai again.”

Naruto bounded back into the village as their mission got cut short. The news spread like wildfire that a threat was coming down on the village, and all ninjas had been requested to return for backup. He raced to the daycare despite Kakashi’s yells. He had to get you to safety. You were the only person he cared for the most in this entire world. If anything happened to you, he would lose himself.

Naruto screamed your name as he ran up to the daycare, flinging open the doors as he flew down the hall. The lights were off, and a cold breeze flew past him as his eyes landed on the sight of your daycare room. Bodies lay everywhere, causing his eyes to widen at the sight of the enemy ninja strewn along the floor with jagged stabs in their chests. He backed out of the room; breath growing labored as he thought through where you may be. Naruto wasn't thinking clearly as he flew out of the daycare building. He would have known that the trap was set just for him if he were thinking clearly.

And he walked right into it.

A bag was shoved over his face as he was tackled. He called out for help, kicking and screaming for the men to get off him. The sound of slicing filled the air, and warm liquid splattered all over him; bodies were shoved off him one by one. Before long, he had freed himself from the group and ripped off the face covering. The sight before him made him stare in awe - A female ANBU officer was slaughtering the ninja one by one without breaking a sweat. It was as if they were nothing to her, almost as if she could take a hundred of them all at once and never falter in her movements. Finally, her sword drove through the chest of the last remaining ninja.

Naruto’s mouth hung open as she ripped the sword from the man's chest, sighing as she looked down at herself. She was drenched with blood. It was on her uniform, on her mask, in her hair, on her hands. The only thing she could wipe off was her sword.

“Wow! That was, uh… Thank you”

Her head snapped to the side to look at him before she once more let out a sigh. She slid the blade against her pant leg, trying to wipe off the blood she had accumulated in the past couple of hours. She put the sword back in the sheath on her back before storming towards him; reaching down, she hauled him back onto his feet.

“Why are you here?! Where is Kakashi?!”

Naruto’s eyebrows furrowed at her words, the voice sounded familiar, but his brain refused to connect the dots. “You know Kakashi-Sensei? You’re starting to freak me out, lady.” The woman froze before him, realizing she had made a deadly error and there was no going back. She sighed before lifting her hand to her mask, “You can't tell anyone, Naruto.”

Naruto’s jaw dropped at the sight before him, “Hey… What the hell?!”

You shot a warning glare, silently scolding him for his language, but he didn't care. You were the ANBU lady??? The one he just saw brutally murder the 20 men lying around you. His eyes wandered around your face, brows crinkling in confusion as his brain caught up to the fact that you were in front of him, wearing an ANBU uniform and covered in blood. Lots and lots of blood.

“But, you’re not a shino-”

You sighed at his statement before he even finished, “A shinobi, yes I haven't been one for years” Naruto grew more confused at your confession. “For years? You were a shinobi before?” A small laugh flew from your lips as you face-palmed yourself. The blood on your hand smeared onto your face, making you cringe at the feeling and smell. Your heart started to race as you brought your hand from your face, eyes wide as you took in the crimson staining your skin. It made you feel sick; you didn't miss this at all.

“Didn't I tell you to stay by my side Naruto?” Naruto jumped at Kakashi’s words as he landed beside you, slowly approaching you as if not wanting to spook you. “God, I hate this, Kakashi,” you whined out as you tried to look away from the blood on your hands. Kakashi quickly wiped it away with a small rag, reassuring you that you were doing something good, even if it meant killing people. There had been many nights where he’d have to reassure you in such a manner. The guilt you felt drove you mad; in a way, you were thankful for Naruto, who gave you a way out.

“How many did you kill, Y/n?” Kakashi whispered as he looked around the daycare. He was trying to gauge how many angry men would come after you. “About 70”

Naruto gasped at the number, eyes widening as you turned into Kakashi. “So we should prepare for 100 more coming your way?”

You nodded as your lip quivered - “I don't want to kill them. I can't do it anymore. I’m so tired.”

Kakashi nodded before starting to take off your vest. If he could get you out of the recognizable outfit and away from the fighting, he could quickly finish off the 100 angry men for you. “I can handle them; it's fine-”

“70?!”

Your eyes shot to Naruto’s, and you froze at his awe-struck face. You didn't know if he was amazed or disgusted, but both reactions would have made your stomach churn all the same. Kakashi felt your sickness by the way you swayed in his arms, “Naruto, now is not the time-”

“I mean, how badass are you!? And you didn't even tell me?!?!”

Your eyes grew wide as you scanned the tree line for incoming intruders; suddenly, your fear-stricken face turned hard. Snatching up the mask from the ground, you shoved it on before drawing your sword. Kakashi held his breath. Your hearing was much sharper than his ever was. Before you knew it, 100 ninjas surrounded you three. You’ve fought more in one go; it was a simple task compared to other things you’ve had to do.

But doing it in front of Naruto made you falter.

Did you want him to see the beast inside of you? The beast you hid from him as best you could. You let him believe you were boring to conceal that you were a kunoichi feared by many nations. You killed many men without mercy because you were instructed to, just as a good soldier does.

One of the ninjas looked toward Naruto, causing you to jump into action. You screamed for Naruto to run before slicing your sword to kill them quickly before they could get their hands on him. Naruto, for once, listened and ran to hide behind the building wall, far enough from the fighting to stay safe but close enough to watch you fight through the group. Kakashi did help a little, but you did most of the work. He was amazed and felt slightly guilty at his previous assumptions about you being weak. The display before him was anything but weak.

Within minutes, you had thinned down the group until the last one remained. Naruto expected you to kill him, but you did something else entirely. Your fingers gripped the bleeding man's collar, ripping him up so he was face-to-face with your ANBU mask. “Who do you take directions from? Who was the leader of this attack??” Your words were icy and full of hatred, not full of the warmth and love Naruto was used to. A shiver ripped down his spine as he watched you cock your head at the spluttering man. “Who. Is. In. Charge.” your snarl made the man break as he screamed out the name of the person in charge of the entire thing. You scoffed at him before driving your sword slowly into his chest. It was deliberately pushed in at a location that would ensure a slow and painful death. It was then that Naruto realized this was the same ninja that looked his way at the beginning of the fight.

You ripped out your sword, letting the man fall to the ground as you watched him gasp for breath. Blood bubbled up from his throat before spewing from his mouth, he wouldn't die from internal bleeding, but he would die from drowning in the blood pooling in his lungs. Your head turned to the side, and while Naruto couldn't see your eyes, he knew your gaze was locked on him. You scared him and amazed him at the same time. He was amazed that you had taken down so many men without a worry in the world, but he was also scared at how fast you turned off your emotions when you went into killing mode.

You weren't the same. He didn't like this side of you.

A sigh flew from your lips as you read him like an open book. He was always so easy to see right through. You saw the fear radiating off him, causing you to drop your sword and rip off your mask as if trying to show him it was still you. That you were still the mom he loved so much.

That you were nothing special.

But that wasn't true anymore; at least the last part wasn't.

You stepped towards him, head cocking as he cowered behind the wall. “Naruto, honey, I won't hurt you.” He didn't budge, didn't dare to, as you walked closer to him. “You aren’t my mom. I don't know who you are, but-”

“You’re right. I’m not your mom,” you stated firmly as you dropped into a crouch feet away from him. He jumped in his spot, flying back as you startled him. You smiled at his jumpiness but knew that this reaction was warranted. His lips trembled at your statement, and you realized your mistake. “No, no, that's not what I meant. The mom you know is not the mom in front of you. The person standing in front of you is someone that hasn't existed for 12 years. Naruto, I hate this person more than you would ever know. I let this person go so I could raise you, and after tonight, she will never come back.” You moved to sit cross-legged before him, hoping the childlike position would reassure him that the one he was talking to was his mom.

The old you was far gone.

Naruto’s blue eyes flicked from you to Kakashi, who stood quietly behind you, hands in his pockets as if all this was old news. Because it was. Kakashi was the one that got you out of this mindset, and it silently terrified him just how easy it was for you to slip back into it. He knew he needed to bring it up later but now was not the time.

Seeing that his Sensei was calm and collected, Naruto nodded at your words before crawling towards you. Your eyebrows furrowed as he approached you, but they soon relaxed once you realized what he was doing. Naruto climbed into your lap, forcing your arms to wrap around him and cradle him in your embrace. You bit back a chuckle and pulled him in more, the blood smeared all over his clothes, but he didn't mind. He just needed to be reminded that you were his loving, carefree, warm-hearted mom. He didn't want a mom that was special. He didn't want a mom that was a renowned shinobi. He just wanted you. As you held him close, you decided then and there that you would never pick up a sword again, because caring for Naruto was more rewarding than wearing a mask and protecting the village.

And nothing would change that.

#Kakashi imagine #kakashi imagines #kakashi hatake imagine #kakashi hatake imagines #kakashi x reader #kakashi hatake x reader #naruto imagine #naruto imagines #naruto x reader

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pastrydragon · 4 months

Text

The BG3 Beef I wanna see shitpost

While I do love the idea of Tav/Astarion/Karlach/whoever getting more unique mean dialogue with Ulder Ravengard, especially when he has the audacity to take up space in your camp like that instead of someone cooler like Barcus or that one bullied hyena, I want very specific flavor text that you'd only get in the epilogue party if you pick a specific ending even more.

I think if you romance Wyll as Gale or Gale as Wyll and then you don't go to Avernus, I think it would be totally galaxy brain to have dialogue in the epilogue that reveals Ulder Ravengard and Morena Dekarios fucking DESPISE one another. Because they absolutely would.

We never get to meet Morena in game but you can tell from what Gale and Tara say about her and Gale's... Galeness that she is at least a part time passenger on the "Fuck you my child is fine" train. Her sweet little boy? Commit evil deeds? Never! There has obviously been a mistake. I mean she indulged that "Gale Of Waterdeep" nonsense and when Gale summoned a full on Tressym after being explicitly denied a kitten as a child, she just let him keep her. No repercussions.

And then her sweet boy brings home another sweet boy who is probably EXACTLY what she pictured Gale's partner should be like.(Because Wyll is the damn blueprint for "Guy you could bring home to mom") Wyll is ridiculously sweet to Gale, he's the perfect gentleman, he's very open to the idea of giving Morena the grandchildren she's been nagging Gale about in the very near future. Pinch her, she must be dreaming!

I cannot imagine her reacting to Wyll's backstory with any amount of empathy towards Ulder, obviously that man is a cruel psychopath to throw poor Wyll out like that after "a tiny misunderstanding" and Wyll is just too good of a son not to see it. Which is partially true, Wyll is definitely still in some kind of denial stage over what his father did but that's not the point of the post.

Then there's Ulder who probably thinks Gale is... Fine. He's not someone he ever would have pictured for Wyll. Gale is a babbling oddball, he has chronic foot-in-mouth disease and has only ever met the pointy end of a sword. But he can't say anything because Gale saved him, his son, and Bulder's gate, and a small army of tieflings, and apparently a bunch of mushroom people and blah blah more reasons he can never have the moral high ground blah. He's undeniably stuck with this fucking wizard, and his nightmare of a mother.

Morena firmly believes that since the Ravengard manor is technically Wyll's now, then it's also Gale's and thus is now hers as well. When I say she would walk through the doors like she owned the place I mean it very literally. Where did Ulder's old helmet display go? "They were rusty and it was ruining the wooden shelves, besides these enchanted swords go better with the new drapes we had to get, I don't know how you didn't notice how moth eaten they were getting." Everyday he wakes up and something about his own damn home has been changed to make it look more like a wizard tower. She doesn't even live here most of the time!

And it doesn't stop there, not at all. No this women has to make sure his son doesn't live there full time either. Every holiday and birthday she has to send Gale a letter about how much she misses him and you should visit so you can take a break from all that(Very important!) work and how she already has the venison just for Wyll.

And every time he's forced to interact with this harpy she looks at him with a sweet smile on her face, honey in her voice and the burning hatred of a thousand suns in her eyes then somehow managed to insult him five times in one sentence without ever explicitly insulting him. This women is a devil from Avernus sent to punish him for his sins and she's even won over the grandkids. Obviously that women is a manipulative psychopath for using her control over Gale to manipulate his son. Which, yeah Gale not being able to say no to his mom has contributed greatly to this and if Wyll knew what healthy boundaries looked like he probably wouldn't have put up with it but he doesn't so here we are.

Let these two be the Tom and Jerry style B plot to BG4 is what I'm saying.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 gale #wyll ravengard #bg3 wyll #ulder ravengard #morena dekarios #gale x wyll #I don't know their ship name #I only ship it for the family drama #Astarion can also fill this role as Wyll's SO but this is funnier to me #bladeweave #thank you dromaeocore for telling me!

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dante-mightdie · 5 months

Note

Trailing off of dragon!price, princess!reader, and knight!gaz, why not add blacksmith!soap, and bandit!ghost ;))

Blacksmith!soap gets snatched by price the second he sees how beautiful his delicate metal works are, already daydreaming of his little pets in nothing but thin chains worth more than the average cost of a fine-breed horse,

Soap trys his hardest to fight against the territorial dragon, but once price decides he like something it's his, and he never lets go of what he instinctively knows is only his possession ;)

Bandit!Ghost and absolute thrill seeker of a theif, has stolen from the so called impossible, and Price's treasure is his next target and easy win, or so he thinks,

He gets rather far, filling a rough linen sack with valuables thousands of years old, and he almost gets away with it except for one small mistake, he spookes pretty princess reader and though he immediately muffled their growls and yells with a burly hand, the sound you did let out is enough to send price hot on your tail, and just like the rest ghost is scooped up unwillingly into the fold of price's wing like a mangy stray.

And believe me Ghost bites and thrashes trying every trick in the book, but price likes the sad/angry puppy look in his eyes and once again has picked up another stray for his hoard,

The first time all of price's hoard fuck together is during price's rut when he's absolutely insatiable and without tagging each other out, a couple of them woul definitely get severe dehydration among other things, not too say they all aren't a bunch of submissive puddles after being used by price,

All passed out in Price's warm silk nest, tucked under his wing, this is when price knows he's picked the perfect little pets to entertain him :))

Much love Sin <3

(p.s. praying Tumblr just ate the other puppy req I send in, and if you were in anyway uncomfortable with it don't hesitate to send me a dm about it :P)

not lost i just wanted didn't check my inbox until i finished work :)

content warning: dub-con, smut

price getting johnny to make pretty swords for his pretty knight! dull, of course. can't risk one of his pets hurting themselves!

gets you all matching velvet pillows so you dont scuff your knees when you kneel at his feet. makes him feel powerful. makes him feel in charge

and he is in charge, believe you me. only he could bring 3 big strong and a spoilt princess to their knees. turn them into moaning messes as he overstimulates them. soft rumbling purrs filling the dense cave when he reduces you to a whimpering puddle as you snuggle into him, desperate for aftercare from this grumpy ol' dragon...

I think he'd have a temper. start destroying things from his stash when one of you pisses him off, yelling at you and huffing fire from his nose whilst you and the rest of his hoard cower from him in the corner :(

it is nice having the boys around. it was dreadfully boring in the cave whenever price would go into hibernation, leaving you all alone to snoop through his belongings to find things to keep you busy

but now you have your boys to keep you entertained :) passing you around and taking their turn with you. simon wasting no time in throwing the pretty village princess onto her knees and having his way with you

his hard, thick cock drilling into your sopping hole, stretching you open as you squeal and bite down on your pillow to avoid waking price. listening to him tell you how he can't wait to escape this dragon and tell everyone that the village princess is really the village whore :(

soap goes next, telling himself that there's no reason why he shouldn't get to have his turn next. except he's a little nicer than simon, kneeling between your legs and lapping at your sore cunt :( spitting on it to keep you nice and wet as he slips his cock in you

fucking simon's load back inside your cunt and making the sloppy sound of him drilling into you echo throughout the cave, slinging your legs over his shoulder and forcing you into a mating-press

and lovely gaz :( who feels so bad about defiling the princess he swore to rescue but you just looked so pretty creaming around soap and simon's cock, tears slipping down your cheeks as you cum for the millionth time :(

goes in with the guise of comforting you before slipping his fingers down to drag between your sopping folds. kissing your forehead and cooing at you as he sits you on his cock, grabbing your hips and bouncing you in his lap

shushing you when price stirs in his slumber due to your loud squeals and cries. dumping another load in you before dropping you down next to price, letting the older man wrap his wings around you as he snores soundly <3

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kuamiru · 1 year

Text

The Golden Child Part II

SAGAU & Impostor AU where the reader is the child of the actual creator.

Warnings: blood, panic attack, mention of suicide.

If you haven't read part 1 yet, you can find it here.

Humidity felt awful. The tall and wet grass gave an uncomfortable sensation every time you walked another step. The tall trees blocked your vision; it was impossible to see what lay beyond the forest. The flora and fauna were drastically different from what you knew in Liyue; no matter how hard you tried, you could not recognize a single animal or plant.

Your eyes were focused on the road ahead, simply watching the dirt below your feet as your mind wandered about the events that led you to this situation. You no longer had any tears to cry, you spent the first hour of your walk weeping and mourning for the life that you lost.

Now, you could only move forward.

The sun that once stood on top of the sky was starting to slowly disappear into the horizon. It wouldn't be long before night arrived, and you had yet to find some sort of civilization to ask for help.

Strange noises managed to snap you out of your thoughts. As you weren't paying attention to your surroundings, you failed to notice three strange persons standing right in front of you, blocking your path. Two buff and strong men and a tall, slim woman looked down at you menacingly. As they bore similar clothes colored red and gold, it was safe to assume that they all were in the same group or clan of some sorts.

You immediately stopped walking and moved your backpack to the front to hug it in your chest as a way to both have a false sense of security and an easier access to the dagger hidden inside.

"So is this it? The shrimp we were tasked to retrieve?" The woman asked as she crossed her arms. You could not see her eyes as they were covered by a red cloth, but it was evident she was raising a brow.

"Watch your mouth." One of the men spoke. "Remember what we were told: safely secure the child and not do anything that could upset them."

So, were these strangers planning to take you? Did they have any connections to that archon that fought your dad? Was that why they were there, to bring you back to Liyue?

Impulsed by your fear, you took one step backward.

The other man seemed to notice this, for he approached you in just one big step. He crouched to look at you in the eyes in an attempt to look less intimidating. It didn't quite work as planned as you just flinched. "Hey it's okay, little one. We won't hurt you. We are here to take you to Lord Sang—"

"Stop right there!"

The man was interrupted by an arrow impacting right in front of his feet, surprising him and making him stand up in alarm. The other two were also alerted and readied their weapons; a bow and two swords were in hand to fight whoever was attacking them.

A young boy descended from the tree on top of you. He landed unscathed in front of you, between the man that previously approached you and your smaller form. His fox-like tail was tense behind him, simulating that of the wild animals when they were alert, ready to strike. His long and fluffy ears twitched at every sound his enemies made, taking advantage of his animal blood to have the advantage on this situation.

"I didn't know Eremites would step so low as to corner a lonely child in the forest." He said, drawing his bow and aiming it at the stranger in front of him. "I'll give you this chance to leave. If you do not, I won't hesitate to throw you out by force."

The group looked at each other. However, none of them put down their weapon.

"Sorry, little forest watcher. We have a job to do." The woman warned.

"We advise you to step aside." The man with the swords said.

Those comments enraged the newcomer. From his point of view, these Eremites were picking on a kid just to rob them. Maybe even something worse.

"Don't say I didn't warn you."

Before you had any time to react, both the fox boy and the three mercenaries started to attack each other. Arrows and strikes started to flow from everywhere, making you crawl to safety behind the thickest tree around. You closed your eyes tightly and covered your ears with your hands. The sound of fighting reminded you of what transpired earlier in The Chasm... It was just like that time when your father and that archon exchanged blows, one determined to get to you and the other to protect you.

It was just the same.

The clashing didn't stop. Your heartbeat increased with each parry that resonated behind your hiding spot. Soon, all you could hear was the thump of your heart hitting your ears, the fight long forgotten as you could not even remember it was happening thanks to the desperation you were starting to feel. Your breathing got out of control, and your chest soon started to hurt, too. If felt as if your heart wanted to devour your whole body and you could do nothing to stop it—

"Breathe, kid. I need you to take a deep inhale and hold your breath for a second before exhaling. Inhale, exhale."

You didn't know who was talking in front of you, their muffled voice barely reached you through the loud thumping in your chest and ears. They repeated the same words over and over again, and soon you started to obey them in hopes of stop hurting. Inhaling, exhaling. It took a few tries, but your breathing soon became more and more stabilized, and your heart wasn't so loud anymore.

The person crouching in front of you breathed a sigh of relief, and you didn't even know you were crying until they wiped a tear escaping from your left eye. Now that you were calmer, you noticed that your vision was also blurry, however, it was also getting better.

"There now, you're alright." The boy in front of you said. His silhouette was now familiar as you recognized the fox-like features in his body. "Feel any better?"

You nodded rather uncertainly. You still felt agitated, but it was certainly better than a minute ago.

"That's good." He smiled. "You're safe now, okay? Those Eremites can't hurt you now."

He took your little arms in his hands and made you release the backpack you were still clinging to. As you let it go, you noticed how red and swollen your hand and fingers were. It seemed that you were grabbing it with too much force.

"I'm sure this was frightening to such a young kid like you... Judging by the way you dress, I assume you're from Liyue, am I wrong?"

You shook your head 'no'. He smiled, content by your response.

"And what about your parents? Are you all merchants? That's why those mercenaries attacked you here in the forest?"

You knew he didn't have any bad intentions and was just asking in hopes of helping you, but it didn't make it hurt any less the mention of your parents. You raised your knees to your chest and hid your face in them. The boy visibly saddened thanks to your action. In his eyes, those Eremites attacked your family in hopes of robbing you and ended up killing your parents when they struggled. He couldn't think of anything else.

"It's okay little one, it's okay now..." He sat beside you and surrounded your shoulders with his left arm. This helped him bring you closer to his body, using his fluffy tail to bring some comfort by gently caressing your back. "You're safe."

The tickling feeling of the hair of his tail going up and down your back brought a positive reaction out of you. It made you involuntarily laugh, and he seemed pleased by this.

"How about you tell me your name, hm?" His kind eyes complemented his soothing smile. You shyly offered your name, and he seemed to shine brightly at the achievement of finally hearing your voice. "That's an absolutely beautiful name! Mine's Tighnari, though I fear it pales in comparison to yours."

You giggled at his words. "But I like your name. It's pretty."

Tighnari ruffled your hair with a laugh. "Well thank you, little one. That's very kind of you."

You were now relaxed, you even had a small smile on your face. This was the perfect opportunity to exit the forest and return to Gandharva Ville; he would think of what to do next once he got you to safety.

He stood up and extended his hand in your direction, helping you stand up once you took it in your smaller hand.

"We'll go to the ville I live, okay? Once we're there, you can get comfortable and tell me everything that happened." He promised. You nodded once more, and, still hugging your backpack with your free arm, you let the young archer guide you through the forest. He started to walk in the opposite direction of where the fight happened, but curiosity got the better of you and turned your head briefly to see what was left of the fight. You barely got to see the three unconscious bodies before the trees blocked your vision.

You were sure you would never be able to see such settlements back in Liyue.

The large trunk of a tree was the base of a little ville hidden in the middle of the forest. The place was filled with forest rangers patrolling the nearby areas, all of them greeting Tighnari once you both appeared right at the entrance.

Being around so many strangers filled you with uneasiness, so naturally, you clung to the only person you knew. Tighnari didn't seem to mind; in fact, it was as if the hold gave him a new surge of energy, for he increased the speed of his walking and returned every greeting with excitement. He even took this opportunity to wrap his tail around your torso.

The road ended in front of a wooden cabin. You stared at it for a moment, thinking about your current situation. Was this okay? This boy certainly promised to help you, he even rescued you from that scary people back in the forest. 'Don't enter a stranger's house' your parent would always tell you...

But did you have any other option right now?

Tighnare looked back at you and offered a gentle smile. "It's okay, I'm with you."

He gently tugged your arm, and you started walking again. You both entered the tiny house, surprised to see a girl already inside, seemingly writing in a notebook while sitting on the desk.

"Collei, I'm back." Tighnari said, and the girl turned to face him once she heard his voice. The big smile on her face quickly morphed into a semblance of pure confusion.

"Oh, who is this?" Collei approached you, kneeling in front of you before offering you a small smile. "Hello little one! My name is Collei. You are not from around here, are you?"

You instinctively hid behind Tighnari. He laughed. "No, they are not. I fear their family might have been a victim of Eremites."

"But I thought Eremites were just mercenaries? Did someone hire them to attack their family?"

He shrugged. He really didn't have a clue. If this child's parents were wealthy or renowned merchants then it would make sense for someone to have a grudge on them.

You slowly revealed yourself from behind the boy. This girl seemed friendly enough.

"Hi Collei." You offered. "Nice to meet you."

Collei gasped. This child was so cute! And so polite, too. She couldn't fight the impulse of hugging you, in just a second you were scooped into her arms and away from the archer, a meter above the ground.

For Tighnari, that small action made him feel like his world was crumbling... Suddenly he felt alone, suffocated, overwhelmed by anguish. The moment he stopped touching the child he swore he could sense his heart breaking in a million pieces.

No, no!

He didn't even realize what he had done until he heard Collei say his name and the pained whimpers of the child. He was grabbing your small arm rather roughly, for he could see the redness of the skin below his hand. Collei was doing her best in trying not to drop you, as he was trying to bring you closer to him not really caring that you were in the arms of another person.

"Ah! Sorry, sorry...!" He excused himself quickly. He let go of you, and guilt was born in his heart when he saw how you gently rubbed the area where he held you.

Collei was staring at him with a worried expression, but Tighnari didn't really care. He looked at the hand that was used to grab you.

He was certain he didn't imagine it. Every second he touched your small frame... he felt full of life, vigor, energy. A newfound euphoria that made him believe he could achieve anything in this world. He could think of the happiest day in his life and how he felt then would never come close to the way you made him feel.

He raised his eyes and his heart dropped when he found yours full of tears. Oh, this was bad! Please, please don't cry! He'd rather kill himself before being the cause of your weeping—

He was just about to drop to the floor and apologize when a forest ranger entered the cabin in a hurry. She was out of breath, as if she had been running from the edge of the forest to here without taking a break.

"Tighnari, we- we have problems!" She said as best as she could. "Eremites! A group of Eremites is attacking Gandharva Ville ad nauseam!"

"What?!" Both Tighnari and Collei exclaimed. They exchanged a glance between each other, a silent form of communication that only they could understand.

"They're here for them..." He gritted his teeth. What could possibly a group of mercenaries want with a little kid?! Even worse, behind them was a mysterious employer... Someone who was adamant about taking this child. Just the thought of it made his blood boil. "Stay here with them! I'll kill those damn Eremites for trying to harm this one!"

The rage in his voice made the girl give a step backward in shock. She has never seen her friend that angry before... no, he wasn't angry; he was furious.

He wasted no second in summoning his bow and following the fellow forest ranger in the fight outside.

Had you heard right? Were the people from the forest back for you? Ah, the thought of it made you feel sick... What did they even want from you? Could they've been sent from those archons to capture you? Was taking the lives of your papa and tata not enough?

You started to move in Collei's arms, demanding to be put down. She obliged your silent request and carefully let you go from her arms. However, the moment she let go, it felt as if someone tore her heart from her chest and crushed it before her eyes. No way, could this be what Tighnari experienced and made him react that way?

She summoned her bow and shouted your name when she saw you run outside to see what was happening.

The entire ville was replete of Eremites clashing weapons with forest rangers and even some forest watchers. The few civilians that lived there tried to escape through secret passages or deserted places, just to be stopped and apprehended by the invaders.

Collei barely had any time to reach you to pull you inside when an Eremite spotted you two. "There! I see the child!"

Tighnari snapped his head from where he was fighting to look at you, every hair of his body standing up with the rage he was feeling. "DON'T YOU DARE!!" He shouted before firing an arrow at his opponent, piercing their stomach without effort. He needed to get to them, he couldn't let these damn Eremites steal you and take with them all the euphoria and joy he felt.

As he started to hop on the stairs to stop a man that was rushing to the cabin, he failed to notice a woman pointing her own bow and arrow right at him. And just as he was about to grab the man, a sharp pain made him stumble and fall as he clutched his side. Crimson flowed from the wound the arrow had made. Fuck, he would need medical help soon.

He shouted your name, trying to see your small from where he was lying. This proved to be futile as the woman who had shot him moved to stand in front of him, between him and the cabin.

Collei managed to pull you back inside just as the man appeared on the entrance. The girl stood protectively in front of you, having drawn her bow as a way to defend both of you. The Eremite, however, didn't move to attack her. He approached you both and didn't seem to be intimidated even when Collei's arrow was pointing at his head.

"You." He said, looking right at you. "We've come for you."

"You'll have to get through me first." Collei warned.

"Oh, please." The man laughed. "We have orders not to kill anybody, but we certainly can use force to take them with us."

She didn't know what to do. This man seemed way stronger than her. Could she even defeat him in a fight?

"Wait, don't- don't hurt her!" You exclaimed behind her form. You clung onto her scarf tightly, terrified of the situation you were in. You could not let any more people be hurt to protect you! You had to be strong; your father and your parent would've wanted you to be brave. "Please stop attacking the ville, they have nothing to do with me..."

"Certainly. If you come with us we can end this without hurting anyone else. What do you say?"

Collei refused fiercely, but you didn't share her thoughts. You nodded and slowly separated from her body to approach the waiting man. This sent Collei in a panic. She tried to grab you by the neck but was promptly stopped by the handle of a polearm hitting her stomach. She instinctively grabbed the area as she fell to the floor, the impact having made her lose her breath.

"Ah, Collei!" You tried to go to her to see if she was okay, but the man managed to pick you up from your clothes and throw you in his shoulder.

"Worry not, little one. We didn't hurt anyone severely. Now let's go, Lord Sangemah Bay is waiting for you."

Wait, Lord Sangemah Bay? That was the person your father wanted you to find. So these people were sent by them to retrieve you? Had you known beforehand, you would've gone with them back in the forest. Without having to hurt anyone here.

The man brought you outside and whistled. The remaining Eremited heed his call and promptly evacuated the ville, the wounded helped by the stronger members.

The man also took off with you still secured in his shoulder, and you barely could hear the shouts of your name coming from the ville as you got farther and farther away.

——————————

Hello! This is a taglist. Should you wish for me to add or remove you, you can ask for it.

Due to the overwhelming support you've given me, I fear I might have forgotten some people who kindly asked to be tagged. If you do not find yourself here, please do tell me. I've saved every username but there's a possibility that I've missed yours when I made the list.

However, I don't know why I can't tag some blogs. I hope this reaches you well.

@cryastre • @someone-with-wild-imagination • @esthelily • @ursinaw • @shizunxie • @meep13r • @clayallor • @yuyuzi-ling • @atsukawolfcat • @yandere-city • @teethmunchertimes • @shinydrakeon15 • @d4ff0d1l14 • @thelonelyarchon • @shadowfoxey • @lunarianillusion • @sarah-saystuff • @scarletttcroww • @insomniackae • @mochicurls21 • @him3ru • @elernity • @d3sperate-enuf • @devils-blackrose • @heather-hutchcroft • @internet-4ngel • @crueldinasty • @yourlocaldrugdealerbutfancy • @almighty-raiden-shogunate • @itz-luna • @kaveh-is-pretty • @yuumaofc • @ratorose • @justlostintheinternet • @angelkazusstuff • @jellidecoffee • @deadflycomputerlogs • @valeriele3 • @no-regrets-just-confusion • @chidouna • @hikaru-exe • @leafanonsforest • @formacoon • @chuuya-brainrot • @fantsyland • @red1sg0n3 • @m3q3kic • @toodledoodl3 • @juuuuuj101010 • @fancyhawk45 • @bre99 • @sucker-for-angst-and-fluff •@bre99

#genshin impact #genshin impact au #sagau #impostor au #genshin impact x reader #child reader #cult au #genshin self aware #platonic yandere #yandere #genshin x reader #platonic yandere x reader #yandere x reader #Tighnari #collei

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honeykaes · 9 months

Text

heart's loyalty

pairing: kazuha x femme!reader II 2.7k

warning: smut, 18+ content, minors do not interact, heavy angst, use of she/her pronouns and descriptions of afab!reader, based on feudal japan, arranged-marriage with scaramouche, reader is a foreigner, exhibitionism, public sex, praising, body-worship, fingering, creampie, character death, cheater!reader, can be read as yandere!scaramouche, unedited

synopsis: kazuha never thought that when he was assigned to protect daimyo kunikuzuishi’s wife his loyalty would shift from the shogun to you and when you asked to run away with him, he couldn’t deny you.

Early fall was one of Kazuha’s favorite times of the year. The heat from the summer was beginning to drift away as leaves would slowly float down from his favorite maple trees. He loved the garden in the small manor of the daimyo’s wife as it captured his favorite scene perfectly.

As he turned the corner of the manor, he saw your form. You were sitting on a large rock next to the tall maple tree, giving you shade. A solemn gaze had taken up your face as maple leafs slowly drifted down around you. You revealed your hands from the sleeves of your ornate yukata, picking at a small loaf of bread you threw a yard away towards the koi pond.

His autumn-tinted eyes softened, heart warming at the side of seeing you, yet a small sadness clawed at his heart seeing you so depressed. He couldn’t fault your emotions as if he was trapped in a loveless marriage, he couldn’t smile all the time either.

You were a foreigner picked to be the wife of Daimyo Kunikuzushi by the Shogunate, Raiden Ei. She wanted access to your country's military and weaponry that came from the West as a deterrent from anyone who sought to challenge her power. Therefore, you became a sacrificial pawn to a game of chess you had no means of playing, let alone winning.

He remembered the night you first came to the estate as he walked the quiet halls before hearing your sobs coming from the other side of the sliding door. He was merely randomly assigned to be your personal guard by the daimyo for his skills in sword fighting but his lack of heart to actually fight in conflicts unless necessary.

When he slid the door open, seeing your shocked and tearful face turn in shock that night, he struggled to come up with the words to even greet your depressed form, not knowing what he could say to stop you from crying. He merely walked up and bowed, getting to his knees and lifted his head down, vowing both to you and to his heart to try to give you a better experience of the many years you had awaiting in the country of Inazuma.

As Kazuha walked closer to your form in the garden, your eyes flickered to him—light returning in your dull gaze. He sat besides you on the rock, looking up at the rings of light that managed to escape the maple leaves before placing his pale, calloused hand on yours and weaving his fingers.

A bond between the wife of the daimyo and the samurai guarded to protect her happened gradually but remained strong, leaving both of them longing to be with one another openly. But, when daimyo Kunikuzushi left to return to his larger mansion or to visit the Shogun, it was him that got to warm your bed every night, joined together in a secret but passionate union.

Kazuha was thankful that hardly any workers were at this estate before a small number. Here, they were free to pretend they were together.

But it was only pretend; a reminder Kazuha so sadly acknowledged whenever the Daimyo would return to break that fantasy.

Kazuha felt you squeeze his hand tighter as he turned his head to your form. You stared out to the koi pond, watching the fish swim in circles in the small patch.

“My bird…you know the one I have in my room right?” you asked in a low voice. Kazuha nodded as you sighed, throwing another small chunk of bread to the pond.

“..I let it fly free from its cage. When I went to feed it today, it was looking out to the sky. How could I not? A bird isn’t meant for a golden cage” you mumbled. You loved that bird with every fiber of your being, Kazuha knew letting go was harder for you than you let on. Kazuha lifted his intertwined hands with yours to his mouth, offering a tender kiss on the back of your hand.

“...I’d go with you in case you decide to follow that bird and leave your cage,” Kazuha replied. You briefly smile before lips curling downwards into a frown, throwing the remainder of the bread in the pond.

“No, you couldn’t Kazuha. Your loyalty was pledged to Shogunate Ei and Daimyo Kunikuzushi. You’d end up getting killed for treason if you decided to escape with you,” you whispered. Kazuha let his hand go from yours, bringing it up to caress your cheek. His thumb brushed against the skin, feeling the warmth from your cheeks.

“I am only loyal to those in my heart,” he murmured, closing the gap between you as his lips graciously captured your own. Your bodies eventually got closer as the samurai's hand refused to part from your cheek. You whispered out his name, wrapped your hands around his neck to kiss him deeper.

You gasped feeling his hips buck and grind at your thigh, parting his lips with heavy breaths.

“We can’t do this here…in the garden. Someone could see—” Kazuha briefly silenced you with his lips before leaning out, trailing his lips along your neck.

“I dismissed everyone to go to their courtier. Only you and me remain in this garden,” he whispered, nipping at your earlobe. You softly chuckled before leaning in to kiss the samurai once more as his hands began to paw at your clothed thighs. His hands snuck past the fabric of your yukata and their hadajuban, cupping their cunt eliciting a breathless sigh from you. His lips continued pecking along your neck, so delicate and quick as if a butterfly was landing on them.

Kazuha finger brushed against your clit as jolts of pleasure wavered throughout your body. You ground your core against his hand, desperate to get more friction from the pad of his thumb. He pressed against the bundle of nerves, offering quick circles to it. You whined once more, shifting from his touch.

“Always so lovely and soft for me, my lady,” he murmured, voice muffled as he pressed his mouth against your nape. Your arousal was beginning to drool out of your hole, coating his finger that was toying with your clit with the essence. As his ministrations went faster, two fingers prodded at your entrances—teetering back and forth—before finally allowing them to sink into your cunt.

As you moaned out his name, you quickly covered your mouth, muffling the soft moans Kazuha so desperately wanted to hear from you. Your walls fluttered against his fingers slowly plunging themselves deeper inside of you. He soon curled them up as he pumped them, your body jolting as he finally found what he was looking for.

Your walls clamped down pulsating against his fingers curling and moving themselves inside of you to massage that spot. Your hips gyrated and grinded, nub from your clit beginning to slightly burn in pleasure.

“That’s right, my dove. Just let yourself fall into the pleasure,” he whispered deep in your ear as his free hand made way to your clothed breast. He gave it a squeeze, moaning lowly himself as if he could perfectly visualize the pair out as he did before. He shifted in his seat, rubbing his thighs together as his cock pressed firmly against the thin fabric of his fundoshi.

His tongue darted from his lips, planting a long stride against your neck, tasting the salty sweet mixture of your sweat and lotions on the skin. His mouth settled against your ear, his hot breath causing goosebumps to sprout throughout your body.

“Please don’t deprive me of your beautiful voice, dove. I need to hear how I am making you feel,” he moaned, lifting his hand away from your breast to the hand covering your mouth. As he gently moved it away, the corners of his lips curled in delight hearing the soft groans elicited from his fingering continuously pumping themselves inside of you.

“Kazuha..ha! I’m gonna…please! I’m gonna…!” you moaned out, voice beginning to rise in tone from Kazuha’s pace increasing. He quickly leaned forward, capturing your lips once more as you finally reached your high shivering in his touch, hips grinded against his hand.

As he leaned away, Kazuha’s gaze was half-lidded and darkened in lust. Both of your lips are glossy with a translucent string of saliva connected to the pair. His gaze softened once more, admiring your afterglow of your climax.

“You make me feel so drunk as if I was a fool. How easy you tempt me, my dove…” he whispered, sliding his fingers out of your cunt as you whined. His hands snaked through the fabrics once more, revealing the coated digits.

“Perhaps, I should have waited to have you in your chambers. You always taste so divine,” he hummed to himself, pressing his fingers against his mouth. His tongue curled around his fingers coated in your slick, cleaning them before rubbing the excess saliva against his yukata.

“As sweet as always but alas, I don’t think I can wait anymore,” Kazuha groaned. You soon found yourself up on your feet, pinned against the base of the tree as Kazuha’s eyes drank in your disheveled form.

Kazuha quickly disrobed, pulling his trousers and fundoshi off and exposing his cock against the cool early fall breeze. His haori decorated in maple leaves fell along the gravel of the garden as well, leaving him completely bare as his cock lulled against his toned, pale lower stomach.

He tenderly wrapped his hand around his length before letting out a breath sigh, slowly jerking it as his cock pulsated in his grasp. His base soon shined in precum, now coated on his head that budded from his flushed tip. Kazuha’s gaze rises to yours curling his lips into an amused, and slightly mischievous smile, witnessing your eyes avoiding to look down at his length.

“This isn’t the first time I've had you like this. There’s no need to be embarrassed, although you are rarely cute like this, my dove,” he murmured, pressing a chaste kiss against your cheek. You gnaw on your bottom lip, feeling his heavy cock rest against your thigh.

“I-I know that! But we’re outside…,” you whined. Kazuha chuckled, kissing the other side of your cheek.

“Just as our ancestors before us and the animals that roam along these vary lands. There’s no need to be embarrassed, I promise it is just us here and no watchful eyes except my own,” he reassured. You shyly nod as Kazuha’s hand made its way to loosen the obi and grabbed onto the fabric of your kimono, revealing your breasts to him.

He leaned in once more, pressing a kiss against the valley of your breasts before lifting your leg to his hip, exposing your drooling cunt to his gaze. The tip of his cock nudged against your sensitive clit as you whined once more, gliding along your slit as he struggled to find your entrance. With a soft grunt, he finally finds it allowing him to finally sink into your warmth. His pace was slow and deliberate, grinding his pelvis against your entrance.

You moaning out his name was his favorite melody as you wrapped your arms around his neck, allowing him to plunge deeper inside of you. The soft noises of nature around you were eventually drowned out by the snapping noises of skin coming to contact with one another and your breathless sighs of pleasure.

It was overwhelming, feeling your walls desperate to pull him in deeper and fluttered against his sensitive cock. His other hand found it way to your covered ass, squeezing it tightly to push your bodies closer to one another.

“I always find myself spellbound and so captivated by your ethereal form…forgive me for losing myself, my dove,” he moaned, pressing his face against your nape. His pace soon grew faster.

“I will always be yours, no matter what,” Kazuha grunted, strokes becoming faster. Your body bounced at his relentless pace as weaker branches begin to shake and tremble from his pace. Kazuha’s blunt nails dug into the plush skin of your thighs futility trying to sink deeper inside of you, muffled whimpers of your name escaping from his lips. Snapping his eyes shut, Kazuha reached his peak as thick ropes of cum shot inside of you. His hips bucked—weakly thrusting—as he slowly came down, leaving a kiss on the nape of your neck.

“Ah…how could I let myself become undone before you…” he softly chuckled, lifting his hand away from the globe of your ass to toy with your throbbing clit to cease your whines. You squirmed in his grip, grinded against his cock still nestled deep inside of you plugging the cum that was threatening to leak out. He grinded his hips, feeling your walls slowly caved down, pressing tighter circles against your clit

“That’s it…you’re almost there…just a little more dove,” Kazuha hummed, flicking your overstimulated clit rapidly. Your back arched, leg shivering in pleasure as you finally reached your high. Kazuha peppered kisses against your nape.

“There you go…such a good, little dove,” he cooed.

“Kadehara.”

Your eyes softened as you placed your hands against his flushed cheeks.

“Kaedehara Kazuha.”

Kazuha snapped his eyes open, looking down at the gravel—the pain of the rocks pressed against his legs kneeling down. His eyes felt heavy, skin much sweeter than usual as a pure white kimono clung onto him uncomfortably. When he went to move his arms, the tight rope burned against his wrist as they stayed in place bound behind him.

He finally leaned his head up, observing his surroundings. Familiar faces of his comrades were sat around a courtyard, varying faces of disgust, disappointment and anger on their faces.

“...You will be executed for treason against the Shogun,” a woman called out, with a decree in her hands. There his name was, written in kanji, penned by the all-powerful Raiden Ei,

“Ah.. that was right,” Kazuha slowly whispered to himself. He buried himself in a dream to forget the nightmare that was his reality.

He remembered that day, as your bodies were still joined together, you gently clasped his face and pleaded that you needed to run away, to be with him and happy. Just as he pledged before, Kazuha happily complied, cleaning the two of you before packing a small rations and cash to get on the next boat leaving Liyue.

He thought, together, they could make it. He was skilled enough to fight off against ronin or his old comrades.

What he didn’t expect was the skilled power Daimyo Kunikuzushi had. Kazuha knew him to always have others do his dirty work. It only took a half a day for him to find you two with ten men at his side. The servants must have reported the pair or he arrived at your manor earlier than you thought—you weren’t sure how and why he was able to know where you two were headed.

Pinned down against six samurai, all Kazuha could do was reach out to your crying and screaming form, desperately reaching out for his hand. It was as if the world had slowed watching your form slowly disappear from his sight as he was rushed to be arrested.

He knew you would be physically alright, but you’d be put into a smaller cage and under a more watchful eye by the Daimyo.

Him, however…

Kazuha’s eyes drifted up, feeling the weight of a hateful gaze glare down at him. Kunikuzushi stood behind him, a katana by his side.

One man he knew to be Heizou, solemnly got up from his seated position, walking over and behind him, covering Kazuha’s eyes with a white cloth. Kazuha sensed Heizou left to return back to his position—the samurai’s eyes waiting in hesitant anticipation for his death.

Hearing a katana unsheathe from its hilt, the corners of Kazuha’s mouth lifted into a smile before closing his eyes. His mind conjured your image once more; how he wished he could see your smiling face one more time. He’d sadly have to leave you lonely for now.

“Do you have any last words,” Daimyo Kunikuzushi seethed out. Kazuha could feel the twisted smile on the daimyo’s face, relishing that he was about to die by his hand.

”I followed her to this life and I will follow her to the next.”

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin x reader #genshin smut #kazuha x reader #kazuha smut #kazuha imagines #kazuha scenarios #tw yandere

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spacebarbarianweird · 2 months

Text

The Tainted Past

Synopsis: Astarion's daughter learns about her father's past.

Tags: dadstarion, trauma talk, dhampirs, hurt/comfort

Alethaine's age: 14 years old

Thanks @themadlu for beta-reading!

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

Don’t slouch, boy. You know who you belong to.

Astarion’s nails pierce his skin. A scream is stuck in his throat—he can’t make a sound, if he does, the master will flay his skin again.

No, please, don’t beat me!

Astarion collapses on the stone floor. He doesn’t recognize the place—a small dungeon, more like a cellar full of books and scrolls. Is he in some forbidden part of Cazador’s mansion? Or has he gotten lost and will be punished?

The echo of the master’s voice rings in his head and Astarion is hypnotized by it.

Go. Find. Seduce. Eat the rat or be flayed. Go again. Find. Seduce. Repeat.

It will never end.

Suddenly, he hears another voice. A young girl, probably fourteen years old, in a long black dress. She looks like a young widow—her elven ears twitch a bit as she calls someone.

Run, whoever you are. I can bring only death.

She is scared but for some reason, she doesn’t run.

“GO AWAY!” he screams. “GO. AWAY!”

The girl’s lower lip starts to quiver and he sees tears in the corner of her raven-dark eyes.

Who am I? Where am I?

Astarion drowns in the darkness.

He grabs a heavy volume from the floor and throws it into the wall, as if this act can help him to stay sane.

The girl squeals as if the book were thrown at her.

“Fuck!” another female voice.

“Mum! What’s happening to Dad?!” The girl hides behind the woman’s back. “I went down and he was … peeling his skin!”

Astarion stands up and stares at the woman. She had red hair, a scar on her face, and a black pattern on her lips.

He knows her name. He must know her name.

“Alethaine, please, go upstairs,” the woman orders.

“But mum!—”

“Alethaine!”

The girl bares her fangs but obeys. She picks up the hem of her long skirt and walks off up the stairs.

The woman cups Astarion’s face and makes him look at her.

“Astarion, you are safe. You are at home in Daggerlake. It’s been thirty-four years. Your master is dead. No one is going to hurt you.” She takes his hands in hers and starts kissing his knuckles, one at a time. “It’s me, I am not going anywhere.”

“Tiriel—” he finally manages to say.

As if her name were an anchor, he manages to return to reality.

The nightmare fades away.

Tiriel, his wife and his beloved, is kneeling beside him.

Reality crashes into him like a wave. Thirty-four years, a very solid counterweight to centuries of misery. He was saved by this woman, though she thinks he saved himself. Together, they found a stable home in a distant town far from the Sword Coast.

And he has a daughter.

“I scared her,” Astarion mutters. “I scared Alethaine”

He remembers the fear and tears on her face. When she was born, Astarion swore she would never learn about his past. If she ever asked he would just make something up. But today she saw the part of him he tried to conceal.

The broken tortured creature he is.

“I will talk to her,” Tiriel says. “Besides, I don’t think she is afraid of you. Considering that her favorite place in town is a graveyard and she prefers the company of the dead to the living.”

Necromancer and a dhampir. And all this mixed with her Fey blood and a quarter of human ancestry. Alethaine probably doesn’t realize what it all means for her.

A fourteen-year-old elf who dresses like a widow, doesn’t breathe, and can walk on ceilings. A fourteen-year-old who prefers to hang out in the graveyard and walk in the underground tunnels to have friends. A very lonely fourteen-year-old who loves books and doesn’t really like people.

“Astarion, are you here?” Tiriel cradles him. “Hush, love, it’s all right.”

“I thought… I thought… I would never have a setback…I thought…”

He thought his torments were finally over. But the Sire’s voice was so loud in his head that Astarion could believe his master returned from oblivion.

The dark waves take him again and he tries to grasp the reality but all in vain. His mind is taken by the nightmares.

And then Tiriel cuts her wrist and puts it to Astarion’s mouth.

Her blood is so sweet, so divine… He sucks her wrist as Tiriel plays with his curls.

Astarion has to make an effort to let her hand go and not take more than he needs.

“I thought he was back. I thought I was there, in that wretched place again. I even didn’t recognize you two– ”

“Your mind was playing tricks on you.”

Astarion sniffs. His vampiric senses sharpen as his hunger is satiated. He hears voices from the outside—just passersby who couldn’t care less to have a vampire for a neighbor.

The underground part of Daggerlale is relatively silent—it’s daylight and most of the residents are on the surface.

And Alethaine eavesdrops standing right above her parents on the first floor of their wooden house. Though her image is very foggy—Alethaine's dhampirism manifests in her ability to hide herself from vampires.

“Tell me what you want,” Tiriel asks.

Astarion doesn’t know. His mind is empty.

“I can stay with you. I can leave for a time and return to you when you are ready. What do you want?”

Years ago Astarion would torture himself by making her stay even if knew he needed some time alone. Something deep inside him was sure if he asked Tiriel to leave him with his own thoughts she would never return.

“I’d like to be alone right now, my sweet. Just a bit to calm down. And I want to go for a hunt but it’s… daylight.”

“You can go to the tunnels.”

“And hunt there like I am some Drow? No. I will go at night.”

“Ok,” she kisses his forehead. “I need to go tomorrow for a day or two. There is a gang of bugbears who decided it’s a good idea to steal sheep from our people. I will be preparing my weapons and armor in the yard.”

Astarion stays alone.

He starts mindlessly walking around the basement. From time to time he grabs a book, opens it, and then puts it back. As one hour passes, his mind clears and Astarion is sane again.

He even laughs it all off.

Of course, he is free. Of course, he is safe. All his life is a huge FUCK YOU to his master—Astarion is a vampire who was invited to live among the mortals to protect them from other vampires should they come. He has a wife he can feed on if he needs to but who does not see him as a bloodsucker—when Tiriel is asked who she is married to she says she is married to an elf. A daughter, a beautiful smart girl—who has centuries of life ahead.

He has everything and even more.

“Dad, do you need anything?”

Alethaine walks inside. She is shorter than her mother, only five feet tall—and Astarion suspects Alethaine isn’t going to grow up anymore. His dhampir daughter looks delicate but her look is deceptive. She is as strong as a full-fledged vampire (and she doesn't need blood to be like one) and Astarion still remembers how she dragged home a dead gnoll that was four times her size when she was six. And was very upset that they didn’t let her keep that corpse.

It remains a mystery if the gnoll had been already dead when Alethaine found it.

“No, princess. I don’t need anything,” Astarion wants to stay alone but he can’t tell Alethaine to go. The little one is going to be very hurt if he pushes her away.

“Are you sure? I’ve never seen you crying like that.”

“It… happens sometimes. Bad memories.”

“What memories?”

Astarion looks at her and feels the darkness coming back again. It is a storm he can’t stop and can’t run away from.

“My past. Nothing to worry about. It’s between me… and the rest.”

Alethaine doesn’t go away.

“You said you thought your master was back. I’ve read… that when a person is turned into a vampire, they become spawns and don’t have free will. Is this what happened to you? Dad?”

Astarion closes his eyes.

It’s just a question. She is curious. He had never told her anything about his life before he met Tiriel. She would ask. Sooner or later.

But he doesn’t want to say anything.

He doesn’t want to relive it again.

“Who turned you? Are they still somewhere?”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Alethaine.”

“But why? Did you want to become a vampire or you were turned against your will?”

I don’t remember.

“Do you really think I would want THIS?” Astarion asks angrily. “Do you really think I would want to stay in the shadows, to drink blood, to suffer from hunger? Do you think I wanted to spend my life in chains?!”

Alethaine flinches.

“I just asked! I didn’t mean to hurt you!”

“Then you should have thought about what to ask!”

“Dad, don't yell at me!” Alethaine cries. She clenches her fists and bares her fangs.

“I am your father, don't tell me what I can and what I can’t do!”

“Dad! I am not a little child, I want to know!”

“You are and you don’t!”

Astarion doesn’t remember what he says after. He lashes at Alethaine and then the young dhampir starts crying as if he hit her.

It’s the first time ever that Astarion doesn’t want to be around his daughter. Suddenly she is a stranger.

He rushes upstairs and leaves the house.

Suddenly, underground tunnels don’t sound that bad.

Alethaine sniffs and leaves the cellar. She has never seen her father like that.

And she has fucked up.

Ashamed and angry at the same time, she goes upstairs hoping her mother has gone after Astarion.

“ALETHAINE!”

She stiffens. No, Tiriel the Barbarian is at home. And if she uses her rage voice, it’s a very bad beginning.

“Alethaine, I told you not to go to him!”

“I’ve never seen him like that”

“And I’ve not seen him like that for ten years,” Tiriel grabs her daughter’s hand and makes her sit on a bench in the kitchen. “Which part of ‘let your dad be on his own’ didn’t you understand? If you had questions that couldn’t wait, you could have asked me!”

“But—but will he come back soon?”

“I don’t know. When it happened to him before, before you were born, he sometimes would disappear for days. And I had no idea where he was.”

“But why? What is haunting him?”

“His past. His master. His own darkness. It haunts him less often now, but it still hasn’t gone anywhere”

Alethaine looks away. The sense of embarrassment overwhelms and she bites her lip with her fang.

Tiriel is silent. Then she sighs and sits in front of her daughter.

“When you were born, your dad made me swear we would not talk about his past. We start from being stuck on a nautiloid. As if Astarion had never existed before. But he had,'' Tiriel makes a pause. “When a vampire turns a person into the undead, the said person becomes a spawn, a puppet who can’t say no to their master.”

Alethaine gulps. She read about that in one of the books her father stores in the house but for some reason, she thought her father had always been a free vampire.

“Your father was turned by a vile person, an abusive, cruel, violent one. Who had only pleasure in his life—torturing his spawns, including your father. It was just sheer luck that Astarion was kidnapped by mind flayers along with me. And it was even more than sheer luck that the Emperor thought your father could have been useful for him.”

“Yes, you’ve told me a lot about how you hung around Baldur's Gate with that thing in your head.”

“Yes, good old times. The tadpole gave your dad a chance to walk in the sun though it took his strength. But what’s more important, it cut the connection between him and his master. Your father was free for a time and together we killed that wretched creature. End of story”

“How—how bad was it?”

Tiriel looks at her and Alethaine shivers. There is a shadow in her mother’s eyes.

“I don’t want you to know that. Trust me, you don’t want either. Just… Think about what comes to your mind when you think about slavery. Your father went through the worst slavery you can imagine. His mind is a torture master’s archive. You never know which horrible fact you learn, but it will be worse than the previous one.”

Alethaine stares at her mother in shock. Her father was enslaved? Her father, who can fight a horde of enemies? Who can make a pact with a devil and leave the devil without a dime? To whom do the kings of the surrounding lands send messengers to solve some “fey contract” problems?

She can’t even comprehend it.

“And how long was he a slave?”

“Two hundred years.”

The number sounds like a hammer blow. Two centuries?! Her father was a slave for twenty decades and would still be? How can it be even possible?

“But—didn’t he have relatives? Family? Friends? Who could save him?”

“That’s another cruel thing about your father. He doesn't remember his life before he was turned. Everything was taken from him, including his memories. And I am still surprised he managed to adapt to freedom so fast when we met. He is a strong man. He managed to preserve his sanity where madness was the only way out. But sometimes the shadows come back. And when it happens he needs help. And understanding.”

Alethaine turns her head away, unable to look at her mother. Then she walks up to the ceiling trying to pull her thoughts together.

“Mum, he has scars on his back. Are they…?”

She nods.

“I am so sorry,” Alethaine whispers.

“When your dad is back, I will talk to him. Just—don’t bring this up anymore, if you have questions I will try to answer them. But don’t bring this up with him. Maybe you think you have a right to know, but you don’t. It’s between him, me, and the darkness.”

“Mum. Do you know everything? Everything you don’t want me to know?”

“Yes. And sometimes I wish I didn’t. But this was a part of the deal—no one can carry this burden alone and I share it with your father.” Tiriel stands right underneath Alethaine. “In case you think we try to conceal some secrets from you like in the adventuring stories you love to read, we don’t. Your father’s past isn’t a heroic character’s background. It’s dirt, misery, and pain.”

Alethaine jumps back on the floor and suddenly feels an urge to hug her mother

“Do you think Dad will forgive me for what I did?”

“Of course he will,” Tiriel kisses Alethaine’s cheek. “He can’t stay angry with his five-feet-tall princess.”

“It’s five feet and one inch,” Aletaine insists, burying her nose in Tiriel’s chest.

“As you wish, kitten. Let’s go and have some dinner.”

Astarion stops in front of his home.

His hunger is satiated for a few days—he managed to find a lot of food in the tunnels, including a bugbear who decided it’s a good idea to attack him.

Then, he sees Alethaine.

She goes outside with a cape on her thin shoulders and a basket in her right arm.

“Hi, Dad”.

“Going somewhere?”

“The healer asked to pick up the dragon mushrooms up in the hills. She will pay me ten copper coins for an ounce”

“Remember the rule?”

“Don't ask ‘who goes there’ but stab them right away. If they are good guys they will understand and forgive’.”

“Good girl.”

They are silent for a few moments. Astarion feels guilty, but at the same time he prays Alethaine doesn't ask anything else.

It seems like she isn't going to.

And he also notices something new in her eyes.

Understanding.

“Will you teach me how to pick up locks?” Alethaine asks.

“Going to rob someone?” he chuckles.

“I am not answering this question” she giggles.

She is lovely, his daughter.

When Alethaine was only a baby she used to breathe. Astarion remembers he would put a palm on her chest just to feel how her tiny lungs worked.

When she was five months old, her dhampirism manifested. Fangs pierced the gums, blood lust almost killed her (luckily, Tiiriel realized Alethaine needed drops of blood to make it through) and she stopped breathing.

Astarion remembers how her chest rose and fell for the last time.

He also remembers the moment when he took his last breath before his death.

A vampire and a dhampir. Father and daughter. At least, Alethaine’s beating heart wasn’t taken from her.

“When you come back I will show you how to pick up locks.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

Astarion waves to his daughter as Alethaine disappears in the darkness.

As he goes inside, he immediately finds himself in the arms of Tiriel.

“You weren’t harsh on her, were you?”

“Told her what was necessary. Don't be angry.”

“I won't. It was stupid to think she would have never asked.”

Tiriel kisses his cheek.

“You look like you fought a bugbear,” Tiriel notices, looking at his bloodstained and dirty clothes.

“I did.”

“Oh? So now you are taking work from me? I thought better of you!”

“I think there are plenty of monsters for you to fight.”

Hours later, when Astarion submerges himself in a bathtub, he is sure the darkness has stepped away. It stepped away with the lights of his home, with Tiriel’s touches as she rubbed his back, with Alethaine’s plea to teach her to pick up locks.

“No one is going to lock you up,” Tiriel whispers in his ear and he closes his eyes as a contented cat.

Alethaine’s basket is already full of dragon mushrooms—an ingredient for the healing potions. It’s already night and she needs to go back–she is still not permitted to hang out on the surface after dark—and her father has probably left to find her.

But the night calls upon her—seducing the young dhampir with its secrets.

Alethaine puts the mushrooms on the ground and takes off her hood, allowing the night wind to caress her face.

Suddenly, she catches the scent of a stranger.

All her senses sharpen, as her predator body gets ready for a fight. Alethaine bares her fangs and reaches for a dagger on her waist.

An elven girl, she was supposed to be, is scared and wants to run to her safe home.

But the dhampir she is knows that you either fight or die. It’s an innate knowledge engraved into her instincts with her shadow heritage.

But the attacker is much faster, and a strong hand pushes Alethaine on the ground.

The scream remains stuck in her throat as she realizes no one is going to help her right now.

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati @lynnlovesthestars @marina-and-the-memes @waking-electric @ayselluna @connorsui @asterordinary @darkarchangel96 @locallegume @brainfullofhotsauce @coffeeanddonutscafe @my-queen-rhaenyra-targaryen @queenofthespacesquids

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bingwriterxo · 9 months

Text

the shakespeare exhibit - drabble 4

pairing: tara carpenter x reader

summary: in which tara enlists help to find you the perfect christmas gift

warnings: none

word count: 700+

author's note: for @melrodrigo -- good luck on ur exams!

previous part | next part

Tara’s phone was pressed against her ear as she paced around her bedroom, her feet surely burning a hole into the floor below. C’mon, c’mon, she thought, listening to the dial tone. Please pick up.

There were three days until Christmas; only three days until she was supposed to drive up to your parents’ house to celebrate the holiday. In theory, there wasn’t any issue with that. However, when Tara had woken up that morning, she had realized one very important thing: amongst all of her Christmas shopping, she had yet to get something for you.

“Hello?” The voice that answered the call was small, young, boyish. Tara perked up at the sound, grinning.

“Nate! Hi! It’s Tara,” she greeted.

There was a grumble on the other end of the line. “This is Eddie,” the boy said, clearly a bit annoyed at being mistaken for his brother. “What’s up, Tara?”

She sighed, embarrassed that she had to seek out your younger brothers, and admitted, “I need your help. Yours and Nate’s.”

“With what?” he asked.

“I don’t know what to get Y/N for Christmas,” she mumbled.

Eddie barked out a laugh, and Tara clamped her eyes shut, thinking, This is why you don’t ask a middle schooler for help. “Can you repeat that?” he giggled.

“You heard me the first time.”

After a moment of laughing, the boy said, “Yeah, okay. We can help you.”

Tara nodded. “Good. I’ll be there soon.”

* * *

Nearly four hours later, Tara was roaming the streets of your hometown, both of your brothers walking beside her sluggishly; they had already been helping her search for a present for an hour, and they were growing bored.

“What if you got her--” Nate started, only to be swiftly cut off by Tara.

“Nate,” she began, glancing at the boy, “if you suggest a real sword one more time--”

Nate shook his head, pointing his finger at a store on the other side of the street. “Look, they have a Shakespeare bust over there,” he said, his eyes sparkling with the same excitement you’d always have when you talked about the playwright.

Could he be any more like his sister? she wondered as she looked at the bust. It didn’t seem nearly as nice as the one you already had in your apartment, and she shook her head. “I don’t think she needs another one of those,” she said. More like I don’t think I need another one of those staring at me while we--

“You could get her a puppy,” Eddie suggested, a sly smile on his face.

Tara groaned. All of the suggestions that the boy had given had to do with animals, and with your busy schedule, she knew you couldn’t handle one of those. “Eddie, I can’t get your sister a puppy.”

Eddie frowned. “First you said no to the lizard, then the snake, then the cat, and now a puppy? What, do you not like animals or something?” He gasped. “Are you an animal hater?!”

With all of the self-control she could muster, Tara managed not to punch the boy. Thank god my mom only had two kids, she thought. I love these boys, but I would not have been able to handle a younger sibling.

“No,” she sighed. “I love animals, but your sister doesn’t have the time for any sort of pet right now,” Tara explained, her eyes continuing to scan the front windows of stores that they passed. “Besides--”

She was interrupted by Nate as he halted, throwing his arm out. “Hark!” he shouted, practically bouncing with excitement. Tara stopped short, whipping around as worry flooded through her. Is he hurt? I am so dead if he’s hurt.

Eddie took a little longer to finally pause, turning lazily and eyeing his brother. “Could you stop being such a nerdball?” he asked, his voice teasing.

“Shut up, Edmund,” Nate retorted.

Almost as soon as the name slipped from his lips, Tara was rushing forward to pull the boys apart from each other, yelling, “No hitting!” repeatedly. When she finally got between them, she sighed.

“Is this normal for you two?” she asked, glancing at each boy.

Nate nodded. “Yup.”

“Oh, definitely,” Eddie added.

Tara huffed. “Great.” She looked at Nate. “Now, why’d you scream ‘hark’ earlier?”

The boy pointed to the store that they had stopped in front of, his finger leading Tara’s attention directly to--

She gasped, her eyes widening and a smile adorning her face. “It’s perfect!”

#museum tara #tara carpenter x reader #tara x reader #tara carpenter #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #jenna x reader #scream 5 #scream 6

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one-idea · 4 months

Text

Let’s keep going with Wado Ichimonji’s point of view.

When they arrive at Lodgetown the whole place is weird. Wado was already annoyed because Zoro insisted on getting two new swords. She can already tell that this is NOT the place to get quality swords. She going to get stuck once again with two blades not worthy of Zoro’s skill and it will just be a matter of time until they can’t take his strength anymore and break. (If he has to use other blades can he at least wait until they find high quality blades like her)

Then on top of it they run into Tashigi. The kiuna look a like makes Wado physically rattle in her scabbard. How dare this look a like come here and mock her old masters memory! How dare she mess with her boys head!

Eventually they get away from her and Zoro finds his way to the swords shop. And Wado hears it. This incessant whining. And she realizes two things. There is at least ONE grade blade in this store. This normally would fill her with hope. Finally a companion she could talk to. Obviously they aren’t one of the 21 great blades like she is, but it’s a definite improvement. Except for the second thing she realizes. This blade is cursed. And she won’t shut up! Whining for a new master so that she can kill again (until she kills her master again)

She’s just so annoying.

And she’s currently in a barrel of regular swords. This sales man is an idiot. All she can hope is that Zoro doesn’t hear her calls.

The shop owner then tries to BUY her from Zoro. He’s not just an idiot he’s a greedy imbecilic. Luckily that annoying look alike arrived and recognized her. And off course the Kuina look alike would know her name (sigh) but at least Zoro know it now! Her boy is calling her by name! He knows just how incredible she is now, one of the 21 great grade blades! Maybe she can forgive this look alike.

Except she leads Zoro right to that cursed blade.

No! Death for look a like! Wado will never forgive her for this.

Except Zoro already knows this blade was cursed. He had heard her calls the moment he walked into the store. Because of course he did. Her boy is the best. He can hear their (the swords) voices so well. But why Her.

Sandai Kitetsu is this new blades name.

As soon as Zoro touches her she starts begging. Begging for blood. Begging for battle. And Wado knows Zoro’s heart. Knows him to be a loyal and honorable man.

She also knows he’s feral and bloodthirsty in his own way. Has been since he was a child.

Sandai Kitetsu is calling for the right person. And of course her idiot son hears this curse blade voice, and is warned by two people not to use her. And what does he decide? To test his luck against the swords curse by throwing it in the air and seeing if it will chop of his arm. Wado is furious.

Wado already knows the end result.

Sandai Kitetsu spins right past his arm. Not just past it but the back of her blade faced Zoro’s arm the whole time. She never would have cut him.

Wado can hear her clearly now when Zoro picks her up again.

“New master! Strong master! Won’t hurt master! You’re like me, you’re hungry to fight like me. Please let me fight!”

Her whining is incessant. It won’t stop! Wado already hates her. She not worried about Zoro falling to the curse, he’s to strong and two stubborn for that. And she can tell Sandai Kitetsu won’t hurt him as long as he brings her to battle. But does she have to be so annoying!

The swords sales man has been talking this whole time but Wado hadn’t been paying attention. To focused on her future roommate and annoyance to care for this human. Until she hears another voice

Yubashiri, a skillful grade blade. Far superior to this whining grade blade but not as great as she. It will do for a companion.

Yubashiri is quieter than Sandai Kitetsu, but that’s not hard. A hurricane is quieter than Sandai Kitetsu. But Yubashiri only talks when necessary. Wado is grateful for that.

Now Zoro has two high level blade plus her one of the 21 great blades. They will take Zoro farther in his journey. All the way to the top.

(Is it wrong of her to hope that he breaks Sandai Kitetsu?)

Regardless they leave the shop. And find their way back to their King. Only that stupid clown is back. And he’s trying to kill their King! How dare he!

So much happens. They almost lose their king, something Wado will not except, for Zoro won’t except it. Zoro needs his captain, they need their king. But he is saved by what the cook calls a miracle. Wado calls it to close and will never let it get that close again. Then they have to fight look a like. And Wado was right. The girl may look like Kuina, but she doesn’t fight like her. Zoro wins quickly and without any true struggle. THAT’S HER BOY!

Now they are on their way to the grand line.

The swords take the time to get accustomed to each other. Yubashiri is quick to accept their role in the ship, Luffy is captain and king, the rest of the crew is namaka. They protect the crew.

Sandai Kitsune is not as impressed. Why are they following the rubber boy? I mean as long as he brings her to a good fight then he’s alright in her book, but why protect him? Or the others? Swords are made to fight. If they attack we fight them.

Wado gets tried of trying to explain to a curse blade why she needs to care. It’s because Zoro cares! But it’s fine. She didn’t like their King at first either. Sandai Kitsune will understand soon.

Or Zoro won’t keep her around.

Maybe it’s best if Sandai Kitsune never understand why Luffy is King!

(She will. Once they get to the grandline. Once she sees Luffy and Zoro in action together. Once she see what it means to fight Luffy in Wiskey peaks)

#wado ichimonji #Yubashiri #sandai kitetsu #monkey d. luffy #one piece #straw hat pirates #roronoa zoro #one piece zolu #zolu #Wado Ichimonji pov au

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momotonescreaming · 5 months

Text

Just a little thing based off of this text post of mine.

Eddie had made a lot of bad decisions in his life. Stacked them up like blocks, one on top of the other. Poorly thought out choices, impulsive things, all building on top of one another. There was good, of course — moving in with Wayne, learning guitar, picking up that DnD book at the thrift store — but this, this, was not one of them.

He was really starting to regret everything that led him to this point. Hunched over books and flash cards at the Wheeler’s dining room table, Nancy trying to grill fact after fact into his brain. He regretted failing high school the first time around, and the second. He regretted taking notes that weren’t ‘good enough’ according to Nancy. He regretted mentioning his determination to pass the third time round. He regretted letting Steve get under his skin, looking at him with large, thinking eyes. Regretted listening when he said that he could ask Nancy to help him — she helped Steve after all. Regretted getting into his car and driving over to the Wheeler house on a Saturday afternoon.

Absently wonders if the fact that Steve and Nancy were fucking when she tutored him had anything to do with Steve’s positive view of her studying method. Because, Eddie thinks, doodling a skull into his notebook, she sucks. Glaring at him with all the fury of one of Wayne’s old army sergeants, lips pursed, nails tapping on the wooden table top. Like that is supposed to help. Is supposed to make him feel better about his failures.

He watches the motion of her fingers, nails painted a careful pale pink. Watches as she organises the piles of flashcards she made him write out — writing them himself, and not her doing it would help the material stick better in his brain, apparently. It was almost as if she had forgotten he was repeating senior year for the third time. In the same classes, with the same material, writing it down for the third year in a row. Writing it down wasn’t going to make it stick.

The doodles on the cards don’t help her glaring. The suns, and dragons, and swords, he’d scribbled over all the pages. It helped him think, having something to do with his hands while she lectured him. She didn’t see it that way. He was distracted. As if it was his fault the material was so fucking boring. Or the fact she tutored him with all the enthusiasm of a child being dragged out of their room by force. She didn’t have to say yes.

She sighs, a sharp, put-upon thing. Terse and to the point.

Eddie looked up at her, raising an eyebrow, bitten pen clutched tightly in his hand. She was pointedly looking at him, flash cards in her hands, not saying anything. Fuck, Eddie wasn’t a mind reader. What is he doing wrong now? Apart from everything, apparently.

His notes are bad, his handwriting is too messy, his flashcards are covered in doodles. He keeps staring off into space, humming and tapping and bouncing his feet. They’ve been at this for hours, and Eddie is about to lose his mind.

“What?” He says, gesturing with his hands, before throwing them down on the table. His rings hit the wood with a clunk. It’s satisfying, but he can swear he can see Nancy’s eye twitch at the sound.

“Nothing,” She says, shaking her head so her curls bounce. Tilting her gaze away from him, before looking back down at one of her textbooks. He can still see the purse of her lips, the tensing of her shoulders. “Finish your notes.”

“Doesn’t look like nothing,” Eddie says, feeling a sharper edge cut it’s way through his words. Tries to hold back the urge to dig his nails into the table and scratch. “What am I fucking up now?”

She huffs, looks up, puts the pile of his flashcards down, before looking over at him. “I just think this would go a lot better if you actually tried.”

Eddie inhales as soon as the words leave her mouth. Sharp and cutting. Air cool, but his blood is boiling. His whole body tenses, he stops his tapping and itching and fidgeting. Locks his eyes with hers and grinds his teeth.

“Excuse me?” Eddie says, grating and angry. Glaring over at Nancy with her perfectly permed hair and ironed blouse. With her perfect little family and her dad who earns six figures. With her good fucking grades and the entitlement to match. Who does she fucking think she is? “You think I’m not fucking trying?”

“Well,” She starts, a slight sing-song lilt to her voice, as she tilts her head again, looking down at Eddie’s scrawled notes and doodled flashcards. If she finishes that sentence with some bullshit like ‘if the shoe fits’ or ‘look at the evidence’ Eddie’s flipping the table.

“No.” He says, cutting her off before she can even think of finishing the sentence. Nancy glares at him, snapping her mouth shut. Not even bothering to hide her annoyance at being interrupted. Eddie doesn’t fucking care anymore. “You think I’d be here if I wasn’t trying? You think I wouldn’t have gone back to fucking high school two times, if I wasn’t trying?”

He’s gripping the edge of the table now, knuckles white with the force of it. He can feel his rings digging into his skin, pressed against the wooden table. Eddie’s sure he looks wild, frizzy hair in a halo around his head, eyes sharp and glaring, jaw clenched. Sure he looks like the kind of guy Mrs. Wheeler doesn’t want in her home. Doesn’t want associating with her perfect daughter. Fuck off. He should have said no. Tried to study by himself. Asked Jeff. Anything would be better than this.

Eddie’s fucking trying. He’s been holding his tongue whenever Nancy makes a passive aggressive, snippy comment. Asks her questions when she refuses to elaborate. Tries to hold back his fidgeting and tapping. Hasn’t even been snarking back whenever Nancy huffs and gets all annoyed when he doesn’t automatically know what she wants from him.

“You’re barely making a dent, Eddie,” She eventually says, holding her back straight. Looking down at him. “You’re not listening.”

“No, you’re not listening, Wheeler.” Eddie retorts, notebook abandoned in front of him. “I’m not good at school, I know this, but I’m trying so fucking hard to be better. To graduate. You just can’t get it through your head that I’m not you.”

“Of course you’re not-“ Nancy starts before Eddie cuts her off again. He’s on a roll now, the words tumbling out of his mouth.

“Your little flashcards, and your quizzes aren’t working; and Jesus Christ, you can’t get it through your permed head that maybe you should try something else?” Eddie spits.

“I’m just following the correct steps. They way we’re supposed to do it.” Nancy retorts, voice held carefully in her mouth.

“It’s not your way or the highway, Wheeler. In fact, your way fucking sucks.” He replies. “You’re a shit fucking teacher.”

He ignores her huff.

“Don’t quit your day job, I’m out of here.” Eddie says as he sweeps his notebooks and papers off of the table and into his backpack, not caring about the uncapped pens and the loose papers getting crumpled. Eddie’s not putting himself through this anymore. The second he has all of his things, he pushes away from the table, chair squeaking horribly against the floor. Nancy winces at the sound, lips held in a tight line, glaring at him.

Eddie pulls a smug face at her, before storming out of her house.

The second he’s outside he lets his face drop. Feels the sinking in his chest. Why don’t people understand that he wants to graduate? That he keeps coming back because he’s trying so fucking hard. He wants to make it. He wants to be a better man than his father.

Shoving his keys in the ignition, Eddie drowns his thoughts out with the blaring of his music that thunders out through the van’s stereo the second he starts it. He blinks back the tears that threaten to fall, clenches his shaking hands on the steering wheel, and peels off towards Forest Hills.

#Stranger Things #Eddie Munson #Nancy Wheeler #my writing #I dont hate nancy i think she's interesting and complex #i just dont think her and eddie are compatible in literally any way #she steamrolls over people #she has to always be right #she was annoyed at robin in the library scene #and i feel that her and eddie would be worse #and i wanted to explore that a little

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gretavanlace · 10 months

Text

Welcome To Hell

Jake Kiszka x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual content, angst, degradation, praise, impact play and illusions to impact play, unprotected sex, language, dirty talk, oral sex, alcohol consumption, etc.

This one spun outta control like I wrote it on black ice. My apologies for length and shitty editing in advance xoxo

Jake hates a scene. Loathes raised voices that might demand the hushed attention of a room. Despises eyes hungrily devouring, unblinking, staring, consuming. The morbid curiosity of it all is abhorrent.

What’s going on here? Those eyes ponder, raking over the situation in devilish glee. It’s human nature, he knows, like when you struggle to look away from something gruesome, but he doesn’t have to like it.

Unless he is strutting his way across a stage, soaking in the anguished, desperate need and admiration of those who buy a ticket to take the ride, he doesn’t want it.

Wrapped in an embellished suit and spilling his soul into the universe from behind a sword made of frets and strings - that is the only time his stoic nature allows him to step into the light when he so often yearns for the shadows.

Jacob is a libertine of the finest sort, but only once the curtain has dropped. Or, with you wearing the marks of his teeth, legs spread wide and inviting, beneath him.

You know of this particular aversion, this detest of observation. Of course you do. You know it now, and you knew it last night. You just hadn’t been able to find the will to give a damn.

So, rather than taking a few deep breaths to center yourself and maybe making the switch to water, you had fumed, allowing frustrated thoughts to stoke the bonfire of anger within you - and you drank. And drank. And drank. Ordering rum and coke after rum and coke until you could feel the bartender clocking you carefully, attempting to decide if he’d overserved you. He had. He most definitely had.

As is so often the case with angry drunks, it suddenly seemed such an ideal time to pick a fight. A good time to pitch your voice loud enough to bring the conversation at your table, in a tucked away corner of the bar, to a grinding halt.

A great time to accuse him of wanting to fuck the bubbly little raven-locked beauty, with the tiny skirt and anything but tiny tits, that had been fluttering around him at the pool table. A sex dripping hummingbird flitting about in his personal space, while he donned a soft, welcoming smile.

A wonderful time to invite him to go fuck himself as you stormed through the crowd dramatically.

A fantastic time to rage against the situation concocted within your inebriated haze, complete with sloppy tears and dramatic overreactions, until Danny had finally wrangled you into an Uber…riding along beside you while you dozed, head heavy on his shoulder. Exhausted from your drunken tantrum.

When you woke this morning, you did so with no memory of how you had ended up in bed, or who had removed the complicated, strappy heels from your feet. Or who, like some great god of mercy, had left the tall glass of water waiting on your bedside table. But you had your suspicions, and they were paired with small flashes of memory that proved you were correct. Daniel. Who else?

Another elusive bit of information was when Jake had finally made it home. You’d found him, splayed across the couch, hair tangled against a throw pillow, boots kicked off, but otherwise fully dressed. He was home, but you were unsure of how long that had been so. He might have collapsed onto the cushions five minutes after Danny tucked you in, or he might have stumbled in with the sun, cock still warm from her mouth.

Though, without the alcohol clouding your judgment, the very idea seemed ridiculous. Jake, with his sleepy eyes and gentle heart could never, and would never, even if he could.

He’d rolled off the sofa while you quietly rummaged around in the fridge, yanking out the ingredients you’d need to create a ‘terribly sorry for being an embarrassing mess last night’ BLT…a peace offering stacked high with peppered bacon and remorse.

When he found you once more, he was showered and looking no worse for wear. He looked so softly domestic in his hard worn jeans and long sleeved T, and you had longed to make amends, but he declined your breakfast of apologies. Even waving off the steaming mug of coffee you held out to him, while muttering something about the studio.

Never one to withhold affection in twisted punishment, he had kissed your forehead and strode out the door, assuring you he’d call if things began to look as though they might run late.

But his irritation with you was evident. Tangible in a way that sent a sharp pang of guilt flashing through your heart. He hadn’t forgotten, and he hadn’t yet forgiven.

You’d spent the rest of the morning ambling through the market. Piling your basket high with carefully selected root vegetables. Bags stuffed full to their brims with parsnips, turnips, and sweet potatoes. Onions, carrots and fennel, nestled in beside the broth and spices that would soon create the base for Jake’s favorite stew.

Veggies, lovingly sliced and diced, were rolling lazily this way and that, dancing in a slow simmer, when the first spits of rain began to pebble at the kitchen windows…

And now, here you sit, waiting patiently at the bottom of the stairs, legs tucked to the side and hidden beneath the hem of his favorite outfit. A worn and tattered, thrifted sweatshirt, at least three sizes too large, displaying the name of a university neither of you have ever heard of.

Inexplicably drawn to it at a flea market the two of you had stumbled upon, you plunked down a five dollar bill and immediately made it yours.

That same night, he’d watched you hack away at the sleeves with kitchen scissors, then hem the jagged edges with a needle and thread, tongue clenched between your teeth in concentration. And as he watched, he sank even deeper into the pool of his love for you.

That unskilled tailoring had resulted in sleeves that were uneven, but no longer swallowed your hands up. You wear that stupid sweatshirt around the house as a dress constantly, hair a mess atop your head in a bun, legs bare, and he doubts he could love it more if he tried.

You don’t know a thing about his little love affair with this particular article of clothing. Sometimes he says nothing at all when words threaten to fail, which is so very often the case between his heart and the tiny things that make you, you.

He finds you there, biding your time until he slips back into your orbit…waiting for his return with hopeful eyes glittering with love. That love softens his resolve and he feels the annoyance that has tried his patience all day, lessening.

“Hi.” You sound quiet, your one-worded greeting weighed down with contrition.

“Hi.” He takes his time leaning his guitar case against the door jamb, meticulous in its placement to be sure it won’t shift and hit the floor, and then adds a somber, “Something smells good.” as he pulls off his water sodden boots.

“I made stew.” You’re avoiding his eyes now that you can feel his energy. “Your favorite.”

“S’good weather for it.” He nods, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Chilly.”

You want to rise to your feet, to close the gap of space between the two of you. It feels cavernous. But, you prove rooted in place with the uncomfortability of it all. Are you actually discussing the weather? Like strangers on a train?

At last, you gather your bearings and stand, no longer a deer frozen in the headlights of his disappointment. “Jake…”

“Let’s just forget about it, alright?” He turns away, though you’ve reached for him. “Maybe it was a little much. It’s understandable that you’d be jealous, she was pretty. Beautiful, really.”

He’s said it to be cruel, to be hurtful, and the low blow has successfully landed, but you pretend it hasn’t. On with the show. He won’t remember she ever existed to begin with by the end of the night.

“But you’re still upset, baby…” you breathe the words gently and nuzzle your nose along his jawline. “You’re still angry with me, underneath it all. I can feel it.”

Relaxing his stance in your arms he huffs a tiny sigh. “I just— I don’t know why you have to—“

Your teeth graze over the delicate scar that lives just below his cheekbone. The spot that never fails to render his heart soft and his cock hard. “Why I have to what, Jake? Misbehave?”

A smoky ‘fuck’ slips of his lips when your fingers curl into the waist of his pants, tugging the linen with just enough force to remind him of where your fingers are.

“You should make me behave.” You kiss your way along until you find his mouth, licking into it with a quiet and obscene hum.

“I was mouthy and so mean,” your palm slides across his warm, soft stomach, fingers inching further downward just to hear the breath in his lungs catch. “and you’re always so good to me, Jake. So sweet. I don’t deserve it.”

Deeply perturbed though he may be with you, his love runs deeper still, “you do deserve it, sweetheart. Even when you’re drunk and terrible, you’re still my favorite girl.”

The pad of his thumb trails across your bottom lip, string-worn callous catching the velvet skin that scrubs and masks keep silken. “Careful with my lips, Jakey,” You lightly scratch against the sparse, downy hair that trails his navel. “I work so hard to keep them soft for your pretty cock.”

His hand runs up the nape of your neck and, with his fingers wrapped around the base of your bun, he snaps your head back with a deft flick of his wrist. The searing sting makes you hiss through your teeth and he calls back with a groan through his own clenched bite. “I didn’t ask for your smart mouth. You’re in trouble and I think a bit of respect would be a wise decision on your part, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir.” You arch forward, longing to press yourself against the sturdy warmth of his body.

Rather than allow it, he loosens his hold on you and steps back, studying your flushed face as though he’s never laid eyes on you before. As though he’s heard tell of what you’re capable of, and is deciding whether or not it might be worth his time to fuck the brat out of you.

“You want to be punished?” He walks his fingers down the outside of your thigh, barely making contact with the trembling muscle you’d give anything to feel him bury his grip into. To watch him spread you open wide and claim his prize.

You nod, cock drunk on him already, though you’ve yet to see it, touch it, worship it.

He tilts his head, as if weighing the possibilities “What if I take you outside, hmm? March you to the gallows?” His touch remains far too light, too gentle. “Make you pick a switch…put you over my knee right there on the front porch, show the whole neighborhood what a nasty fucking handful you are.”

“Whatever you want, Jake.” And you mean it. You probably shouldn’t, but you do. God help you, you mean it.

“Call me Jake one more time and I’ll wash your mouth out with soap.” He warns, pressing a finger to your lips. He doesn’t want a response. Watching you play by the rules for once will do just fine for him, thank you.

In a breath, his hand is warm between your thighs, fingers toying with you, taunting, teasing, withholding. “Upstairs. Now.” His demand comes gently, but it leaves no room for discussion all the same. “Everything off. I’ll be up when I feel like it.”

You wait without patience, but he isn’t in the room to scold you for fidgeting this way and that, nor is he close enough to hear your tiny huffs of annoyance…

…until he is.

You never hear a sound. Not a creak on the stairs, nor footfall in the hallway…he simply appears in the doorway like a specter. An apparition, bathed in darkness and sex, sent to ruin you.

Your black phantom moves closer, eyes never landing on you, though you wait on display for him. Nipples pebbled and aching, sitting on your heels with your knees parted so that he might catch sight of his favorite place to play.

He ignores all this and instead, focuses on the soft lengths of rope you have laid out beside you at the foot of the bed.

Jake knows this rope. His thoughts skip to the white rose bushes you planted out back one sunny morning, in homage to his band. You’ve cut it from the spool you use to tie the bushes to stakes, ensuring they grow straight and strong. He will never look at those white roses again without remembering this moment.

“And what is this for, baby girl?’ He runs a length of it through his fingers thoughtfully. “Are you expecting to be tied down? Would you like that?”

“Yes.” When did your voice grow so meek? “Tie me down and punish me…any way you’d like.”

He drops the rope, entirely disinterested, “Spread your legs and touch yourself. Love on her for me. She must need it bad by now.”

You obey instantly, earning a lazy smile in reward. But as quick as that smirk appears, it vanishes, when he leans in close enough to brush your nose with his own, while you circle your clit with faint pressure, careful not to get greedy.

“I don’t need rope, sweetheart.” He hushes like a secret “You will stay where I put you. You will lie still when I say so, and you will move when I say so. You will do as you’re fucking told, or you will suffer the consequences. Are we clear?”

Leaning in, your tongue laps over his lips, desperate to taste him…he takes momentary pity on you and offers the tip of your tongue a gentle suck before straightening.

Wandering over to the dresser, he begins digging around in your top drawer, shuffling satin and lace around, searching. “I’m thinking of filling your pretty mouth up. You look so lovely with my cum dripping off your lips.”

A sound of wanton anticipation whines out of you. “You like that? You want to get down on your knees and ask forgiveness? Prove how sorry you are with a cock in your mouth?”

He’s fucking obscene, and you plan to relish every second of his condescending filth. You sigh shakily in confirmation and lick the lips he spoke of so indecently, eager to get on with it.

“Well, it sounds like you want it, so I suppose that isn’t much of a punishment at all, now is it?” At last he turns, and you drink in the beauty of his face.

“Put these on.” A scrap of fabric lands on the duvet beside you.

Fingers clasped around white silk, your eyes squint in question. “You’re asking me to get dressed? I thought we were moving in another direction here, Kiszka.”

He is across the room in a blink, grip locked around your chin. “Watch your tone, miss mouth. You’re toeing a line you don’t want to cross, I promise you.”

The brat in you shoves up her sleeves, ready to get to work. “Or what? Are you going to bend me over and spank my ass until I beg you to stop?”

The light in his eyes snuffs out, leaving only a menacing darkness that sets your pulse to racing as he slowly leans in. Lips caressing the shell of your ear, he strokes a thumb down the swell of your breast. “No, Sweetheart, I’ll bend you over and fuck your ass until you beg me to stop.”

A sigh of a gasp escapes you, fluttering his hair.

He straightens and casually pets your hair, “But we don’t need to worry about that, do we? Because you’re going to be a very good girl for me, aren’t you? You’re going to be the best girl - all for me, isn’t that right?”

Your response comes immediately, and without thought. “Yes, sir.”

“You see?” He smiles, booping your nose with the tip of his finger. An innocent, cuddly act that doesn’t match the tone of the room “My baby girl has such manners. Now,” he swats a finger at your cheek, “put your panties on.”

“Why?” You’re doing as you're told even as you question him.

With an off handed air, he answers, as if bored with your inquisitiveness. “Because I’d like to taste your cunt on them, that’s why.”

“Please?” Oh, how fucking pathetic you are - and oh, how little you care.

“Please what?” He is so quiet, so tender, as he sinks to his knees before you, you can almost trick yourself into believing he’s going to give in.

“They’re on.” You snap the elastic at your hip and fall back on the bed, nestling into the cool cloud of blankets and sheets beneath you. “Taste me on them. I want your mouth.”

He hums softly, the back of his knuckle trailing over your clit as it aches in desperation. “You’re beautiful everywhere, aren’t you? My pretty, pretty girl. Don’t you wish for a kiss, baby? Wouldn’t that feel nice? Soft and slow? Right here on this perfect clit?”

His fingers wander with just enough intent to make your hips rock as he gazes down between your thighs “Sweet and swollen. Just wants to be spoiled a little, doesn’t she?”

Nodding eagerly, you fist at the blankets, grounding yourself. “Please,”

“You want my mouth?”

Suddenly, you have it. His tongue, like warm, wet satin, laps over you through the scant material you’ve already soaked. “Like that, baby?”

He sounds so smug “is that how you want it? Or do you want it like this…” his fingers peel your panties aside to allow his tongue to wander along freely.

A muffled hum chokes it’s way out of your chest “Yes, baby, please. Don’t stop…” your hips thrust up to meet him “More...”

“Aw, sweetheart…” he taunts, landing a cruel smack against your center that makes your thighs snap together “and you were doing so well, too. Bossy gets you nowhere, little girl.”

Shoving your legs apart, the pad of his thumb circles over the dripping material that is, once again, concealing your clit. “Think you can cum like this?” He sounds so casual, as though he’s asked you for the time. “If I touched you and licked you just like this?”

As his face draws nearer, you begin to pant…breathing lust heavily into the room. “Yes! Yes! Please, Jake…”

His eyebrows raise, mockingly pondering your face as you stare down at him, silently willing him into action “But I’m not even really touching you. I’m touching your panties, that’s all. Are you really that pitiful? Needy little pussy, dripping and begging.”

“Fuck!” Your fist tangles in his hair, tugging at it urgently and without care.

He hisses at the burn of the sting - the flash of pain he has never hidden his affections for - and then there are both of his hands, wrapped around your throat carefully. Ever mindful to never hurt you in a manner unintentional. To never get carried away and leave a mark he hadn’t thought out, coaxed a tear he didn’t anticipate.

You’re left to whine under his wicked glare until, at last, his voice comes…guttural and threatening, yet still glazed in velvet, lush and rich. “Fucking behave yourself. I won’t tell you again.”

His grip tightens, locking you in the warm vice of his hands. He sees the insubordinate gleam in your eye, and he’s warning you, though he knows it will do no good. “And if I don’t?”

The second you speak, you wish you hadn’t. He isn’t the only one who can read the thoughts behind your eyes, and a poisoned malevolence is darting about in his.

“If you don’t,” he offers you a cruel tip of his brow, like he thinks the answer should be obvious. “If you don’t, I’ll make you watch her preen, pretty and sweet, with my cock down her throat.”

You ought to be ashamed for the way your body writhes and throbs at the very idea of it, but you’ll worry about that some other time.

“You’re evil,” you breathe.

He seems amused as his thumb begins to stroke over your pounding jugular, “Am I?”

“Yes.” You’ve never wanted him more.

“Well then, pretty girl…” his tongue snakes up the side of your cheek, “welcome to hell.”

Hours may have ticked away, or perhaps just minutes. It’s entirely plausible that time stopped its monotonous shuffle all together, and you’re now floating in limbo.

There is no way to tell. There is only Jake.

Jake, as he moves above you slowly, deliberately - tangled waves of silken chocolate gently swaying, creating a hazy curtain of his scent around you as your vision blurs.

“Harder, baby…” your words are quiet, barely a whisper, and pointless. “Please.”

“Shut up.” He hushes back as if confessing his love. “I’ll fuck you harder when I decide you deserve it.”

You shouldn’t do it. It’s manipulative, and underhanded. You do it anyway. “Did you really want her?”

You know he didn’t, you’re simply aiming to weaken his resolve. It backfires in a way you’d never expect.

“How do you know I didn’t have her?’ He taunts mercilessly, slipping his thumb in your mouth to pry it open. He speaks into it, licking and sucking at your lips and tongue between vicious words, still sliding in and out of you at a maddeningly slow clip.

“How do you know I didn’t go home with her?” He eases his thumb into your mouth for you to suckle comfortingly “Maybe, while Daniel was tucking you into bed, I was tucking my cock inside her?”

“Liar.” You choke out through a moaning clench around him.

A feral sound growls out of his lungs as you squeeze up tight. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t think about it. You were being so mean. Maybe I wanted her because she looked at me like I hung the moon and made her little pussy all wet and messy.”

Your teeth bury themselves into his flesh, but he merely curls his thumb and pries your bite open.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” With a blissfully swift snap of his hips he fucks into you a little harder. “You don’t wanna play in the kitchen anymore now that the heat’s caught up with you?”

Your hands move to latch onto his shoulders through the shirt he has refused to remove, his pants are only unbuttoned and shoved down far enough to slip inside of you, he says it’s all you’ve earned.

Yes, your hands reach for him, but he puts a stop to it with a harsh, clipped, order. “Hands down. Now.”

Palms once again flat against the bed at your sides as you’ve been instructed, he carries on fucking you, filling the room with your desperate moans and whines, and his bullshit lies.

“I wanted to put my hand on her waist right here,” he tucks into the dipping curve just above your hip and grips tighter and tighter, tugging you closer. “Yeah, right here, just like this. Just the way you like. Right where I grab you when you’ve been a good enough girl to take it hard.”

He can feel the muted fury seize your muscles up tight while your heart begins to pound a hyper-beat of fiery madness, and he jabs at you further with a taunting grin, smoothing his palm flat up your trembling skin sweetly until the globe of your breast is cupped in his hand. “And I’d have done it, baby girl. I’d have fucked her, but I knew you’d smell her on me…perfume that wasn’t yours, the scent of her skin, of her pretty cunt…”

“Fuck you,” the blow comes out of left field, even to yourself, and lands hard upon his cheek.

He fights the recoil and nuzzles into it, body humming with electric lust. “You’re so mean, sweetheart. Do it again.”

“Please!” The sobbing need turns your plea into a prayer, fraught with the desperation he has grown completely addicted to.

It rips a carnal, raspy groan out of his chest. He is full of lies, and he knows it just as well as you do. He needs what only you can give. You’ve rendered him a man willing to do anything to get even just a taste of the way you love him.

But, Jake loves the game, as well.

His warm clutch, rough from the unforgiving metal of strings, closes around your throat once more, eyes fluttering when a moan chokes out of you.

You sound like angels sighing, but he doesn’t allow himself to be lost completely, lest you win this round.

“I said, do it again.” Teeth clenched, his demand comes with authority that leaves no room for defiance.

He steels himself to absorb the blow, but his cock twitches wildly inside you upon the cracking impact and you can’t help yourself. “You like that? You sick fuck.”

A grin, flashing and gorgeous, settles upon his beautiful lips. It steals the moment, shaping it into something new, something softer.

“You fucking love it. You want me to hit you back, I can see it in your eyes.”

You can’t hide anything from him - never could. He reads you with astonishing ease; fingertips racing deftly over the tiny blips of braille that map your thoughts. The rushing thump of your pulse spoken word poetry whispering secrets to him.

“I do.” Your confession slips off your tongue with quiet confidence. You are safe with him.

He caresses your face gingerly, adoring you with a feather-light touch you haven’t asked for, “I’d never hit you, baby. I don’t want to.”

A frown that you try to fight pulls at your lips, eliciting the softest chuckle from him, baptizing you in his love. He is your sweet Jakey again. Just that quickly. You don’t know whether to rejoice or mourn. “She pouts because I refused to mar her lovely face. Scandalously filthy, sweetheart.”

You take advantage of that pout he can’t seem to resist, “Fuck me harder now, sir. I need it, baby.” Sir and baby intermingle strangely, but something about it works.

“Yeah? You need it?” He begins moving faster, roughly jerking his hips back until only the silken tip of his cock rests inside you before driving back in, punching a cry of relief out of your lungs each time, over and over and over.

“Let me touch you…” you’re panting and struggling to speak.

“Go ahead, baby,” he sounds so gentle, but he dips down and bites into your neck viciously, releasing only to groan your praises as your fingers lace into his wild tangles “there’s my good girl, there’s my good fucking girl.”

He sweeps airy kisses over the apples of your cheeks, each in turn. “Pretty little piece of heaven, just for my cock. All snug and soft, aren’t you, sweetheart? My girl.”

Nodding in frantic agreement - you are his girl. You couldn’t be anyone else’s - you raise your head and press your forehead to his shoulder, wailing against the cotton of his shirt as you bite into it…so close you can nearly taste the grainy, sugary sweetness of your long awaited release.

“Cum for me pretty, baby.” His demands are breathing out of him tenderly now…gentle as the rain that’s still tapping at the windows. “And say my name, it sounds so beautiful on your tongue. Makes my heart hurt.”

You know what he means, sometimes there is too much love between the two of you. It batters itself against the cages of your hearts. Enormous and overwhelming, threatening to split you wide open at the seams of your very souls…it is too much, and it is never enough.

And you do; you call his name. Chanting it like the chorus of your favorite song, pressing it into the cracks in the wood, etching it into the glass with your cries, so this room, this house, never forgets the love it once held.

The house will remember him as well, the pained sounds that claw out of him wildly as he fucks you through it, and lets go, sinking into you as though he’d like to disappear inside you completely.

This is all that matters. Jake. You. Love.

You’re both breathing up at the ceiling, hands clasped between you as you hunt down some semblance of calm.

“The stew.” You remember, too tranquil to really care.

He sounds just as serene as you do, “Took it off the heat before I came up.”

You squeeze his hand in silent thanks. “We’ll go down and eat soon. I’ll heat up the bread I picked up and…”

Trailing off, you don’t finish your sentence, but he’s crossed over into half-sleep as well, so there’s no one to notice.

Some time later, you blink slowly awake, confused by the darkness in the room. He stumbles his way back to consciousness soon after, and the night settles in with you curled in his lap on the back porch, sharing a bowl of stew - the rain, now nothing more than mist, dancing on the grass.

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