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#Time to get my dear oc out of under my bed as it seems

darkbluekies · 1 year

Note

what would ocs do if mc got arrested for speeding after trying to escape

Warnings: threats, handcuffs, chains, humiliation?, manipulation, gaslightning?

Silas:

He’ll have a field day with this one. He won’t even be mad as he walks into the jail, on the contrary — he’ll laugh. With his hands in his pockets, you trapped in front of him and having bailed you out, he can’t do anything but mock you. He’ll get into your cell and run his hand through your hair in a demeaning way. He loves to see you shrink under his touch.

“My poor little idiot, I think you dropped something when you ran away from me. What, you ask? Your fucking brain. How stupid can one be to get caught by the cops? I’ve bailed you out, now let’s go home, I’ll teach you yet another lesson of what happens when you try to run away from me since the last five didn’t seem to work.”

Dr Kry:

He’ll be able to convince the police to let him handle you. You’re clearly not well. You don’t need to go to jail, you need to be taken to a medical facility … like his hospital. He loves that you’re trying to tell the police that it’s where you ran away from … it only makes you look more and more insane. As soon as you come back to the hospital, he’ll keep you cuffed to the hospital bed and remove all of his personal stuff from the room.

“Now, now, don’t be sad. I’m not mad, just worried. We both know you weren’t fit to drive a car. You should be happy that you’re under my protection or you’d end up in prison for both speeding and stealing my car. You’re quite the little criminal, aren’t you, my dear? Now I have to keep you chained like this so you won’t repeat it. You could really hurt yourself, you know?”

King Edmund: (there are no cars in his timeline, a horse will do)

When a frantic horse rose through the village, the royal knights captured it quite quickly. When they saw who was on the horse, they nearly fainted. They kept you in a clean room for the king to come get you. He’ll come twenty minutes later in a carriage, holding a chain in his hands. He’s furious, you can tell.

“What were you thinking stealing my horse and riding away like that?! I had been thinking about taking you for a horse ride in the forest, but now I don’t think that’ll ever happen. It seems like you can’t act right and because of that, I need to chain you. I can’t trust you. Try to move with this heavy chain around your feet and you’ll find that you won’t get so far. How unfortunate … seems like you’ll be spending summer indoors. Come now, my darling. Let’s see you walk with those chains out to the carriage.”

Jerry:

She’ll be laughing as she bails you out. She’ll laugh all the way back to your home and somehow, it frightens you. She never laughs when you run away … so what’s different this time? It tells you that whatever you’ve done, it’s worse than all the other times you’ve escaped her clutches. As soon as you’re behind closed doors, she collects herself and grabs a fistful of your hair.

“You’re in such big trouble, baby. I’m honestly impressed that you managed to sneak out and steal my car keys without me noticing, but don’t think it’ll happen again. I’m going to put up cameras and I’ll be able to watch your cute ass as often as I’d like. Hah, try to beat that, you little shit.”

Hedwig:

You’ll be bailed out in no time and have Hedwig’s arms around your waist like a suffocating corset. She’ll shower your face in kisses before pulling you out to a car — not the one you’ve gotten caught in. Her chauffeur will drive the two of you back to her mansion in silence. Hedwig will lead you up to her room and sit you down on the bed. Before you have the time to think, she has placed something around your ankle.

“What? Oh, that’s a tracker. Honey, please listen, please. I can’t have you running around like that. We’re meant to be together, I know it. I’m just protective over you. What if you would have gotten in a car accident? You could have- … you could have died. So this is just for safety measures. I’ve told all the staff to report to me if you leave my room and they’ll do their best to keep you at home. I honestly don’t know what I would do if the police wouldn’t have caught you. Seems like there’s a benefit of your reckless driving after all …”

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere drabbles #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere mafia #yandere oc x you #yandere doctor #yandere female #yandere king #yandere reactions #yandere headcanon #yandere ocs x reader #yandere ocs #yandere oc x reader #yandere oc

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starogeorgina · 6 months

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Killer queen

Warnings: Incest, swearing, childbirth

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen × Targaryen OC

1.07

Your breathing was slightly staggered as you rubbed at your very swollen stomach. The maesters expected your labor to start any day now as the baby had reached full term. You had exhausted yourself by moving the heavy chair you were currently sitting in to face your large bed. You had spent the last few hours softly singing lullabies in high Valyrian, hoping it would help settle your son, who was softly sobbing down. Usually you would have happily sat underneath the bed with your son to find out what was troubling him, but due to the size of your bump, you could hardly kneel to the floor. Luckily, you had managed to calm him down enough for him to stop crying. Although he wouldn’t come out of his hiding spot, he did accept the drink and slice of lemon cake your lady-in-waiting sat down on a small tray for him.

“Ser Criston,” you look up as the knight enters your chambers. You try to push yourself to stand and greet him properly, but struggle to get your footing. “Gods!”

Immediately, he was by your side, offering you an arm to take while his other hand rested on your back. His eyes move around the room as he tries to pinpoint where the whimpering noise is coming from. “Princess, you sent for me?”

“Yes, I wanted to know if you have any further news on the silver-haired children who were seen in fighting pits,” you say quietly.

Criston nods. “I have, in fact. Two boys who have allegedly been fathered by Prince Aegon have been spotted running in and out of one of the brothels in flea bottom.”

“They children are in a brothel?” you ask, horrified.

“Some of the madams allow orphans to sleep in their brothels if they clean the rooms for them. What do—” His eyes shift to the bed. “Is that the young prince making so much noise?”

The lightness in the older man's voice makes you smile. “Yes, my son is hiding underneath the bed and won’t come out. I’ve tried to coax him out for hours, but he’s refusing.”

Ser Criston lets out a soft chuckle before kneeling down and speaking softly to Tré. He’s patient enough with your son and eventually manages to convince him to come out from under the bed. Your cheeks are puffy and red from crying so much; your poor little boy has been extremely stressed out over something. Tré seems to relax a little when Criston picks him up.

“Oh dear,” you said, smoothing Tré’s silver hair back before kissing his cheek. “What is wrong with my little princeling?”

He sobs, “I saw what Kepa did.”

“What do you mean?”

“He was yelling while flying on Vhagar!”

Criston gives you a look similar to the one your mother would gave you when you did something reckless as a child when you held your arms out to take Tré from him. Hesitantly, he hands Tré over to you. The maesters made it clear you were no longer to hold anything heavy for the remainder of your pregnancy, which is probably why he was being so cautious,but your son needed comforting. “When was this, sweet boy?”

“During the night.”

“I think you’ve had a nightmare; your father was here the whole night.” You kiss Tré on the top of his head before placing him on the bed. “I’ll just be a moment; don’t move.”

You motion for Ser Criston to follow you far enough away from the bed that your son could no longer hear you, but you could still see him. “Thank you; I feel much better now that I can see him.”

“It’s quite alright, princess,” he smiles. “I’m sure the young Prince just has a vivid imagination.”

Tré had been having nightmares for some time now, and you hope he'll grow out of them soon. Once the knight was gone, you’d let your son sleep beside you. After you explained to him that there was nothing to be frightened of, first you’d need to figure out how to help the young boys, who were more than likely Targayren. “Could you?" Your hand moves your lower abdomen when you start to feel cramps. “Discreetly bring the boys to the keep; I'll figure out how to help them then.”

“Princess, are you okay?”

You let out a deep breath, and you take the knight's arm to sit back down. You can't help but smile, seeing the fear etched into his facial features. “Perhaps you could send for the midwives, then my husband, before you find the boys.”

—

You let out a deep groan as your contractions became closer. Both Helaena and your mother were waiting with you until it was time to push, although your sister was talking in riddles, putting her in a more irritable mood than normal. Aemond was in the nursery with your son, who was still a little scared of his father despite your best efforts to reassure him. Aemond had been coming in and out of the room to check in on you, but the midwives told him childbirth was no place for a man.

You accidentally brush your sister’s arm as you waddle by her, causing her to turn to you with an almost venomous glare in her eye. She says, “He’ll lose more than an eye.”

“Of course he will, sweet girl,” you say, not fully listening to her.

You knew she meant nothing malicious; she just behaved oddly at times. Your mother rubs at your lower back until they are asked to leave so the midwife can check how far along you are. She announces it’s time for you to lay down on the bed and begin to push, but you refuse.

“No, I'm not laying down again. I've already fucking said that!” You snap, frustrated that nobody seems to be listening to you.

There was no law saying what position you needed to give birth in, and you would not allow anyone to hold you down again while you screamed helplessly. Feeling something happen, you kneel down with your arms and head resting against a leather chair. Tears roll down your cheeks as the maester and midwives continually tell you to reposition as you start to push.

“Princess, I–”

“Aemond!”

You don't even realize your husband is in the room until he is told to leave. “This is no place for a mother.”

“And which one of you is going to remove me from this room?” he asks, his voice full of ice.

Of course, nobody tries to stop him as he kneels at the side of the chair, so the midwives still have space to work behind you. He kisses your hand and says, “I'm right here.”

“One final push!”

You scream loudly, pulling your hands away from Aemond’s so you can dig your fingers into the leather of the chair roughly as you bring your second child into the world. You bring the back of Aemond’s hand to your mouth and kiss it gently as your wailing baby is checked over. The fire inside you had only ever burned for him until you became a mother, and now you couldn't imagine it burning out. Wincing, you turn yourself around once the cord is cut, so you could sit down on the ground, your body throbbing as you do.

“It’s a girl, princess.”

You're taken aback as you hear Aemond's voice shake as he asks, “Healthy?”

“Yes, kicking like a goat, my prince.”

The moment your daughter is placed in your arms, you begin to sob, “She’s so perfect.”

Aemond sits down beside you, clearly unbothered by the blood and other fluid covering the ground. He kisses the side of your head and says, “I’m so proud of you, Ashara.”

You rest your head against his shoulder, smiling down at your baby girl. “She’s so perfect; I love her so much.”

—

You blink awake slowly, your body fighting the exhaustion that still consumes you from giving birth only a few hours prior.

Aemond is fast asleep, with Tré sleeping with his head resting against his father's chest. It seems the excitement of having a sister overshadowed the memory of his nightmares hearing your daughter stir. You slowly get out of bed and go over to her crib, which was at the foot of the bed.

Daenerys, your precious girl.

“Shh,” you say, making a shushing noise to soothe her while picking her up. You kiss the back of her tiny hand multiple times. “My sweet baby, you’ve no idea how loved you are.”

When Tré was born, you were so ill from the loss of blood that you weren’t able to even pick him up yourself without help, and it made you feel like a failure, so being able to do it yourself now meant a lot. You look at the bed, hearing the bedsheets ruffle, and chuckle to yourself, seeing that your son has taken your spot on the bed.

“I will always do whatever it takes to keep you safe; so will your brother, and so will your kepa.”

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen x you #Aemond Targaryen #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfic #killer queen #aemond targaryen/you #aemond targaryen/oc #aemond targaryen x original character #aemond targaryen x female oc #aemond targaryen x oc

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asgardxvii · 1 year

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Heat

Helloo!! this is my first writing. I got desperate that there were not many Tsu'tey fics yk.

This is kinda OC Tsu'tey and real? 'cause we haven't seen much and he looks caring for his clan in some movie scenes. Alsoo I'm sorry if I have any gramatical error in the fic, english it's not my first language. I tried to put my best in it tho, I'd love feedback, thankss!! <3

WC: 1,4+K

Pairing: Tsu'tey x Avatar!AFAB Reader.

Warnings: NSWF/SMUT; dry humping, seasonal heat, OC!Tsu'tey.

Perhaps the fact of being surrounded by all the dangerous flora and fauna of Pandora was a sign to end the walk. The imminent calling of dead at your doorstep, knocking some sense into you, but it was an empty call for you in this state of mind.

Running to the usual spot, a known path, crossed many times before. Feet moving just by themselves, no indication to stopping till the specified place to make the melting warm consuming your brain cease. The enigmatic heat that you have yet to ask your dear teacher, Jake or Neitiry; still they all seem like the last resource. Paradoxically this could still be associated to a seasonal heat of some animals. You know the answer. However, if the situation needs it, is there someone willing to be the one to melt with you, to love you even?

The glowing nature of this world so blinding in this state, merely enough to keep your foggy brain away of those familiar piercing eyes watching you run, aroused and alone. Every step you take slowing down enough to now be kneeling in the cold leaf bed, the one only thing awaiting at the end of the path. Said space enclosed by the ethereal nature of Pandora’s forest, tall trees, branches and a nearby river hiding sounds and doing the best to shield you from the exterior. You have found and kept this place as a secret just for this exact time. You know there´s also a unique view from the trees, the best for the burning alien eyes on you, giving a full access to every part of your anatomy, every luminescent dot and your dampened loincloth as well.

You have known who they were from the start, playing dumb it´s a better choice than just clearing thing out for an uncomfortable conversation and maybe an ending to it all. It's also easy to recognize him, more when you´re both glued to each other in a daily basis; as student and teacher, risking to say friends now. A handsome, strong and noble na'vi warrior. The magnificent hunter. The number one fantasy running through your mind in your current state, Tsu'tey te rongloa ateyitan.

He knows that the possessive embrace he has on your schedule is just an excuse to keep you under him, know everywhere you go to and who you talk to. Even your seasonal heat weaving in front of everyone now, he sometimes wishes you've not accomplished the rite of passage. Every weak male trying to get to his mate, it's an ice bucket thrown to his face. Deceiving all of them was the right answer, keeping all away from his breathtaking and bewitching lover.

This is going to smash his sanity, every season, even everyday it´s hell for him. Can't touch you, court you and claim you before everyone, his duty weighing on him. And this moment watching you touch yourself in your softest places, trying to fulfill his role as your mate. Relief so far away from your delicate fingers, frustration painting your beautiful tearful face. He should just bring himself to aid you, then he heard you, his name coming from your soft lips. "Tsu'tey, please! I-I know you're there," you cried for him. The young na'vi's body went rigid, his presence being known by you was not something expected.

Creeping closer to you, scent burning his nose. Pupils blowing as wide as they can be, feet walking faster taking him to you; the need to touch you, be your only satisfaction feeding his reason. Shameful scenes replaying through his mind, while he fall to his knees before you. Being this close, between your sublime body. Watching you from this close range, sweet face looking lose in translation and pure bliss; gasp's escaping your mouth as he fondles your doughy thighs, passionate touches interrupted by your pleasing voice, "I want you to be honest with m-me, Tsu'tey. W-What do you feel about me?”

His breathing getting heavier, warrior's hands trembling, creeping closer to your jaw softly caressing your skin to memory. Face inching closer, leaning into you with every word, "I have been foolish, my love. I-I should've been more open about my feelings for you," he whispered against your lips. Mouth in a feather like manner touching his, shyly turning into a desperate need to feel each other.

Kisses broke by his confession, "I see you, my little dream. You have tempted me for too long. I can't wait anymore," Almost hissing he admits, "I'm jealous of the men that look at you, scared they might take you away from me." His scowl breaking, your fascinating laugh taking all the attention, it's impressive how distracting his mate can be.

The young man's hands capturing your waist, a corner of his mouth lifted "You're not supposed to be laughing, my love," Your face getting hotter with the changing position, being on top of his lap is rather shameful.

Arms going around his neck for support, face hiding there too. "Umm, I don’t like anyone else. Maybe a handsome warrior, I think you may know him!" you chuckle at the same time your face jumped out of your hiding spot. Soft pecks quickly deliver in your face distracting you, while his hand little by little traveled to your mount, heavy patting you over your loincloth; a sharp intake of air making you light-headed.

Rutting over his calloused digits, you mumble dizzy, "Hmm, don't play, s-skxawng.” Your smaller hand wrapped around his wrist, hurrying his motion.

Words bubbling cut short by your warrior making direct contact with your wet pussy folds as he moved your loincloth to the side, fingers playfully brushing your clit. Hips following his caress on you, aching for the so called release. Your desire does not go unnoticed by him, the tent forming in his cloth is a sign of it, grinding heavily against your ass.

Resting your forehead softly in his, breath fanning his lips, “I need to feel you more, Tsu'tey.” you spoke in a whisper. Placing your hand in his chest, traveling unhurriedly to his pelvis. Fingers sprawl against his loincloth, helping free himself, and slowly brushing your thumb over his cock-head; starting a torturing circular motion, pre-cum dripping on your hand. Mimicking your movements, he pushed two fingers easily inside your soaked cunt; your breath getting quicker with every matching pump. His lips ghosting your pulsing point, lapping your salty skin, “Can't mate you yet. We’ve to do it before Eywa, my dream. Even so I still want to feel you more,” his voice sounding needier and fucked out.

“I know what to do, just let m-me," you babbled, trying to pick yourself up. Strong hands nestle under the weight of your thighs and helped you do so, "Thank you. I'm not weak, you know. I-I can't do much when I'm like this.” you said shyly, ears flattened against your scalp.

Still with his arms embracing you, subtle thumps of his tail echoing as your palms rest flat on his chest. The comfort filling your system, relaxing your bodies into each other. You felt him move, kissing the crown of your head. "I'm watching, I don't want to just feel you," he murmured against your hair, hands reaching to untie your loincloth.

You just went for it, accommodating your thighs at each side of his hips. Feeling the heavy weight of his cock over your drenched pussy, rutting languidly against you. Thighs flexing with every torn movement, hands holding harshly on his shoulders.

Gaze fixed on him, consume by desire; softening scowl tainting his face as his ears folded and his eyes closed. Partially open mouth groaning with every improper grind of your hips, such a strong warrior weak before you, grazing the clouds of pleasure with his fingertips.

Embracing him closer, breathing him in; trying to forget the crawling need to fuck him, while the pooling heat at the pit of your stomach numbed your mind. Grinding slowly over his glistening cock, mewling at every catch of your nub. The tender pace stopped by his rougher hands on your hips, “Don’t tease me anymore, my dream," he hissed angrily at you.

Thrust getting faster, possessive grip on your hips heavier with every move. Pussy dripping, ready to fall over the edge at any minute. You know his release is not that far either, his shaft twitching against your wet folds. His calloused hand went directly to cup your face, mouths smashing together and tongues tangling exploring the other.

Hips stuttering on their look for release, moans quiet down by the fervent kiss. "I'm c-close, Tsu'tey," broken words stuttered in-between desperate kisses and moans. Sopping wet pussy pulsing him in as he creamed over the inside of your supple thighs, hot cum dribbling slowly.

Resting on his muscular chest as you played lazily with his hands, "We should rest, yawntu. We'll have to do this all over again later," he mumble.

#avatar fanfiction #tsu'tey x reader #tsu'tey x you #tsu’tey smut #tsu’tey #avatar fic #na'vi x reader #na'vi smut #avatar x reader #avatar imagine #avatar smut #tsu'tey fanfiction #tsu'tey fic #tsu'tey te rongloa ateyitan x reader #tsu'tey avatar #tsu'tey #tsu'tey x y/n

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poisonedonyx · 3 months

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Lucien x F!Reader | "Our Story" (p2)

requests r open, i suck at making ideas myself TwT tw: unedited, pregnancy, birth, oc baby, fighting/arguing between a door, kinda rushed wc: 2.4k Part One

Feyre sighed, taking her friend’s arm and holding her close. “What’s truly going on, [YourName]?” Feyre asked, noticing the scent difference, the hormonal peaks, it led to one thing but Feyre wanted her to admit it. The glamour only went so far, and it was starting to break. [YourName] finally broke down, “I believe I’m with child, I can’t stay here.” [YourName] finally said.

“There’s the truth..” Feyre smiled warmly, “I’ll talk to Rhys about this.. i’ll make sure you’re safe.” she adds. [YourName]’s breath hitched in a panic “He can’t know, what if he tells Lucien? I don’t need him-“ the panicked female began but Feyre cut her off; “Rhysand wouldn’t dare tell Lucien, he’s a trusted person, and I’m not saying that because he’s my mate. I promise.” Feyre said, squeezing her friend’s hand.

“Rhysand will make sure you’re safe in Velaris, that you and your child will be away from Lucien. Heck, I'll even visit from time to time.” Feyre promised, and for the first time since [YourName] suspected she was pregnant- she relaxed. She released a breath she didn’t know she was holding, but it soon would be caught in her throat once more. “We need to get you to a healer though, make sure everything is alright- especially after our run in with Eris.” Feyre pointed out, and [YourName] nodded in agreement.

Once Feyre managed to corner her mate and explain everything about her dear friend, Rhysand had promised his mate he’d make sure [YourName] was tucked away safely with access to healers and such for her and her child. Once Rhysand knew, he summoned a healer to check on [YourName] and made sure Lucien was off the premises as they did so, just to respect [YourName]’s want to keep the pregnancy under wraps.

“Things seem to be quite fine, you do have a powerful one on your hands.” The healer says, taking her hands off of [YourName]’s bare stomach. [YourName] just nodded as she fixed her shirt and sat up on the bed, “Take these, it’ll make sure things remain smooth between now and when I check in on you again in a few weeks. If you feel off, as if things aren’t normal, or you begin to bleed- contact me immediately.” The healer mentioned as she handed a bag full of tea, tea that [YourName] knew she wouldn’t be able to stomach for some time.

According to the healer though, [YourName] was just entering her second trimester. Eventually, the healer left and [YourName] welcomed Feyre and Rhysand into the room she temporarily held up in. “How is everything?” Feyre questioned, “Good..” [YourName] answered with a bored tone- not that she was, she was just ready to leave. Rhysand smiled though, “Let’s go ahead and get you out of here.” he offered which the pregnant female happily took.

When arriving at the cabin, [YourName] felt relieved. Everything she could have asked for was there and she thanked Rhysand with a low curtsy. Rhysand laughed it off before reminding her that a friend of Feyre’s was a friend of his, and that he and Feyre would visit now and again to check up on the female.

Slowly, things started to fall into place for [YourName]. Slowly, her bump grew, and now that it was slightly there, her favorite hobby was looking at her stomach in the mirror or watching as her stomach raised up and down as she breathed. She couldn’t wait for the day her baby started to kick in her womb. Which, eventually did happen and [YourName] nearly cried of pure happiness.

[YourName] was cutting up some fruit to snack on, and when she finally set the knife down to move the fruit onto a plate, she felt the kick. It marked twenty weeks- about five months along, and she felt the flutters in her stomach. At first she had zero idea what it meant and had assumed she had to pee, but never felt the need to pee, so she took her fruit and sat down with her book. When she felt it again, this time she watched her stomach and gasped when she watched a little bump pop up and disappear soon after. Her baby had been kicking! Hopefully this meant she was having a healthy baby- because truthfully that’s all she wanted. Even if the child was half the man [YourName] no longer wanted to see, she wanted her baby to have the best life. [YourName] gently placed her book aside and placed a hand where the baby had kicked and cooed softly, “The healer was right, you’re a powerful little thing..” [YourName] praises her unborn child.

When it seemed her child was done being active, [YourName] picked her book up once more and began reading. She was excited to be able to hold her child in her arms, but she also knew it was going to be hard alone. Perhaps she’d return to Feyre and Rhysand and simply act as if Lucien didn’t exist- if he still remained in the home, trying to woo Elain when, in reality, that girl could do so much better than the Autumn Court faerie. Mate or not, [Yourname] was a firm believer in thinking Lucien didn’t deserve shit- especially after the way he had ended things.

It would be another week before the healer had returned to check on [YourName] and in tow would be Feyre. “I didn’t expect to come as the healer did! I apologize!” Feyre says, setting her belongings down and both the healer and [YourName] brushed it off, claiming it was alright. Feyre sat with [YourName] as the healer placed her hands on [YourName]’s bare stomach and light shined beneath them. “Do you want to know the gender?” The healer asked, [YourName] looked over to Feyre- as if she’d have the answers she sought out for.

“That’s up to you..” Feyre giggled softly, [YourName] nodded though “I do, I want to know..” the pregnant female nodded her head. After some time, the healer finally found a good spot to examine the baby within [YourName]’s womb, “Boy. Your baby is a boy.” the healer finally announced. [YourName] couldn’t help but melt on the spot when she found out the news, a baby boy. She had no idea where she was going to begin, she had fully prepped for a girl but perhaps that’s simply how it worked out for her. Fate is such a weird thing to attempt and play with. Once the healer was done, she gave [YourName] some drinks to try out to make sure the baby remained healthy before the healer took her leave. [YourName] turned to Feyre with a joyful smile on her face- “A boy!” she squealed. Feyre laughed at her friend’s excitement. After about an hour of chatting and lunch had begun to be made, Feyre finally spoke up. “I think.. I think he-who-shall-not-be-named misses you.” Feyre says as she places some vegetables into the pan, “Good. Make him regret.” [YourName] huffed as she didn’t miss the male, but deep down she had missed him and wished he remained around so she could experience the pregnancy together- but he had messed that up, he had screwed up and this was his punishment.

Feyre watched carefully, because even though [YourName] had sounded as if she was determined to never see Lucien again, the frown on her face told something completely different. That she did miss the male too, but Feyre would never pass that message on to anyone, because she knew deep down [YourName] wanted to keep this from everyone. It wasn’t like [YourName] had anyone else but Feyre and Rhysand, so [YourName] understood fully why she was acting the way she was.

When [YourName] had disappeared, Lucien didn’t ask questions. In fact, he assumed she had ran away in embarrassment. It wasn’t until Elain had rejected him for the uptenth time, that Lucien realized that perhaps he did miss [YourName]. But never would admit it out loud. Just because the way things ended was, in fact, messy. He didn’t want to say he hated the way he saw her try not to cry as he was called ‘pig’ or how much force was in the slap to show how hurt she was.

So, when Feyre claimed [YourName] missed most of them- Lucien decided to try and dig deeper. He asked where she was, how she was doing, and if she was okay. Feyre would smile and say she’s safe, she was doing amazingly, and she was more than okay. It placed a pit of nervousness and disgust when Feyre was so vague with her answers and perhaps [YourName] had asked her to do that and that just made him feel even more regret.

Now that he knew Elain wanted nothing to do with him and it had gotten into his thick skull, he realized how much he missed [YourName]’s touch. So he was going to get to the bottom of where [YourName] was. That’s why when he overheard a quiet conversation between Feyre and Rhysand that he realized she was on the outskirts of town and that she wasn’t alone. She wasn’t alone. Has she moved on? His selfish side wished and hoped she didn’t.

It wouldn’t be until [YourName] entered her third trimester that she realized how hard it was going to be in these final few weeks. She couldn’t pick anything up by herself, and when she was waddling down the path to her garden- she realized she wasn’t going to be able to get up on her own without assistance. She wished she had someone, but knew she told herself she had this and that the final stretch was in sight.

When things did begin to flush out and [YourName] was hitting around her due date, the healer practically visited every two days to make sure [YourName] was doing alright on her own. It was hoped that while the healer was visiting and helping out around the house, that [YourName] would go into labor so she didn’t have to do it alone- but it seemed like the world had other plans. The one day the healer couldn’t make it out to help out, [YourName] went into labor.

Sure, she was in labor for hours, but she followed the back-up instructions for the occasion that the healer couldn’t make it. She stripped down and found herself in the bathtub, half way through pushing did Feyre and Rhysand come to visit, the screams made the couple panic and when Feyre finally found [YourName] in the bathtub struggling to push- she dropped to her knees and offered her hand, which [YourName] took between tears. “I can’t do this alone,” [YourName] sobbed, but Feyre shook her head. “You’re not alone [YourName], you have us, you’re going to have your son, you won’t be alone.” Feyre promised, but to [YourName] it wasn’t enough. Even if it sounded selfish and cruel, Feyre, Rhysand, and her son were not enough to satisfy the hole in [YourName]’s heart. When [YourName] finally gave birth fully and there was a cry that pierced the air, everyone felt relieved,

Feyre had helped place the little boy on [YourName]’s chest, all while she did the after birth process the healer had finally busted in and shooed her High Lady off so she could inspect both mom and baby. Things were good and after cleaning up, making sure mom was in bed, and baby was healthy- the healer left instructions for each meal and left.

Feyre finally entered the room, watching as [YourName] fed her son for the first time. As the two females spoke, there were soft suckling noises from the baby. Finally, the topic of ‘returning home’ had come up and Feyre had offered for [YourName] to return closer to home. “I wouldn’t mind having you closer, it’s a matter of Lucien finding out.” Feyre chuckled, [YourName] shook her head “Whatever, I’ll take the offer though- I.. I miss being able to see you daily.” [YourName] said gently as she admired her son. “What did you name him?” Feyre finally asked, [YourName] cooed softly as she thought “I really like the name Alban, I may go with that. It suits him well.” [YourName] explained gently. Feyre couldn’t have agreed more. “Alban, sounds nice off the tongue.” Feyre jokes, making [YourName] chuckle. After some talking, it was official that [YourName] would be moving closer to the townhouse, especially since Feyre realized miss [YourName] was going to need big time help with the baby.

A week would pass and when [YourName] was mostly healed from birthing mostly by herself, she got assistance from Cassian and Rhysand with moving and before [YourName] knew it- she was in a new home within Velaris. [YourName] set her son down in a bassinet close by the bed as she flopped down. Alban softly cooed, signaling he was awake. He tiredly watched as his mother picked him back up and cuddled with him until there was a knock on the door.

With some hesitation, [YourName] held the child to her chest and made her way to the front food. Perhaps she should have checked who it was before just opening the door, but she did so anyway and there revealed the man she didn’t even want to think of. When she thought of Lucien, she had gotten pale and felt nauseous. So she tried to shut the door as fast as she could, that’s when the door stopped from shutting thanks to Lucien’s foot being in the way.

“Please, not now, I’m tired.” [YourName] begged, trying to shut the door still. “No, you’ve been gone for almost six months, I just want to know where you’ve been.” Lucien says, trying to fight back, but groaning when [YourName] fought back just as hard. “Safe, away from you- now leave.” [YourName] scoffed but before she could warn Lucien about Alban- the little one started to cry.

[YourName] immediately dropped fighting with Lucien and turned her focus on the baby on her chest. She walked off to a different room to try and console him, but Lucien followed. “You.. You were pregnant?” Lucien asked in shock, he wasn’t dumb. That baby in his ex-friends-with-benefits’ arms looked too much like him and [YourName] as a mix to deny that [YoruName] was with child.

[YourName] remained silent though, “You should’ve tried with me, please leave.” [YourName] asked once more. Lucien was at such a loss for words that he simply turned around and left, he didn’t know how to ask for more information. So, when he returned he asked Feyre and she gave him a look of pity before shaking her head “That’s not for me to tell.” she whispered before leaving Lucien alone with his thoughts once more.

#dividers; cozypupluv #a court of thorns and roses x reader #acotar x reader #book x reader #bookblr x reader #x reader #Lucien x reader #Lucien Vanserra x reader #acotar lucien x reader

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its-all-or-nothing94 · 8 months

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Racing Hearts - Part 4 // Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: The first encounter with being in the public eye - and you're not to happy about it. But also: FIRST DAY ON THE PADDOCK!

Masterlist Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Warnings: Pure Fluff and some snuggling

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

A/N: So, we are on our first day on the paddock :) AND I'M SO EXCITED THAT IT'S RACEWEEKEND AGAIN! (not only in my story)

Disclaimer: This story is purely fictional, and any character portrayals are just how I wrote them - hence fictional! I don't know them, except my OCs.

Tagging: @liebgotts-lovergirl, @softly-writes, @bellewintersroe, @faithm120601, @needtokeepfeelingsincheck, @bbygrllllllll

After your wonderful date, you woke up with a big smile plastered on your face, but just as the day before, Sofia came jumping into your room.

"Holy sweet cheeks, you are already famous!" she exclaimed, and you looked at her confused.

"What the hell are you talking about, Sof?" you asked, rubbing your eyes.

Sofia took out her phone and held it into your face. "About this, silly. They wrote about you. In the news !!"

You took Sofia's phone and stared at the tabloid.

Love Afloat: Charles Leclerc's Yacht Romance with Mystery Blonde - Is Isabella Rossi History? Monaco's beloved racer, Charles Leclerc, was seen sharing an intimate moment on his yacht with a stunning unknown blonde beauty. The pair seemed to be in a world of their own as they exchanged a passionate kiss under the Mediterranean sun. But what about his long-term relationship with glamorous model Isabella Rossi? Have the winds of change blown a new love into Charles's life? Our exclusive sources reveal that the young couple's romance has hit the rocks, with whispers of tension and heated arguments. Could this encounter with the mysterious blonde be a sign of moving on? We can't help but wonder - is Charles Leclerc ready to sail away from the past and embrace a new adventure with this enchanting stranger? Stay tuned as we keep you updated on all the juicy details!

You sat up straight in your bed, reading the article. "What the fuck! What is this?"

Sofia cocked an eyebrow. "This, my dear, is called being in the spotlight."

"What? I mean... why?" you asked, giving Sofia back her phone.

"Because you, sweetie, are dating Charles Leclerc. That's why." Sofia lay down on your bed, looking through the article again.

"We're not dating. We're just..."

"Snuggling?"

You took your pillow and threw it at Sofia, who looked at you shocked, but then you two started laughing.

"Just ignore it, okay? They write about everything they can get their hands on", Sofia assured you and you thought about it. You tried not to let this get to you.

The days passed, and Charles and you spent a lot of time together. He showed you all his favorite spots and places you would've never seen as a normal tourist.

As Monaco race week approached, Charles had to focus on the race more and more, and he had less time to spend with you. At that time, he sent you random cute texts to let you know that he was thinking of you.

You felt like you were in a dream, watching from the sidelines as Charles worked hard to prepare for the race. You knew how important this was to him, but it was hard not to feel a little left behind.

You didn't take it too personally, as you spent the days with Sofia and, to your surprise, also with Lorenzo, who was with them a lot since the encounter at Jimmy'z.

One morning Sofia and you went shopping to get new clothes for the race, as the brunette stated. And by shopping, Sofia meant raiding her father's store, among others.

When you approached Starbucks for a coffee, you almost collided with someone, and as you looked up, it was no other than Isabella. Charles's ex.

She looked you up and down, clearly remembering you. "Well, would you look at that? This is the new one I told you about", she said to her posse, and they giggled.

"This? You're telling me that Charles is dating this?" her friend said, and you and Sofia exchange a gaze.

"Yes, apparently. But don't worry. As soon as he realizes that that isn't good enough for him, he will come crawling right back to me", Isabella said, giving you a dirty look.

Sofia snorted, amused. "Wow, you really are as conceited as I thought you would be." She stood closer to Isabella, since she was almost as tall as Isabella. "Let me tell you one thing, starveling, just stay away from my girl here, and it would be best if you would from Charles, too. He is with her now, and he is as happy as he can be."

Isabella lost her face for a millisecond before she smirked at Sofia. "And what if I don't?"

Sofia snorted again. "If I see you near Y/N, I'll promise you, you won't recognize your face in a mirror for a long time."

Isabella and Sofia gave each other an eye duel before Isabella turned around and walked away with her posse.

"You know, you don't have to defend me, right? I'm more than capable of doing that myself."

Sofia chuckled. "I know, but little Miss My-Daddy-paid-for-my-modeling-career doesn't need to know that for now, does she?"

You and Sofia looked at each other and then laughed. "You're right."

As you and Sofia walked through the bustling paddock during Monaco Raceweek, your excitement was palpable. The atmosphere was electrifying, with the sounds of engines and the energy of the racing world surrounding them. The VIP and Ferrari pass that Charles had given them made you feel both special and a bit nervous, being amidst all the action.

As you turned a corner, they spotted Pierre chatting with some of the team members near the Scuderia Ferrari garage. He was wearing his Alpine Shirt. You exchanged a quick glance with Sofia, who offered a reassuring smile.

Pierre turned and noticed the two familiar faces approaching him. His eyes widened in surprise, and then a warm grin spread across his face. "Well, well, look who we have here!" he exclaimed, giving you and Sofia a playful wink.

You smiled back, relieved by Pierre's friendly greeting. "Hey, Pierre! It's great to see you again."

Sofia chimed in, "We're so excited to be at the Monaco Grand Prix. This whole experience is unbelievable."

Pierre gestured towards the garage, his excitement evident. "Welcome to the heart of Formula 1, ladies. It's the most prestigious race of the season, and it's going to be one hell of a weekend."

As they chatted, you noticed Charles making his way toward you, and your heart fluttered with excitement. He looked dashing in his Ferrari team attire, and your smile grew even wider. Charles gave Pierre a nod of acknowledgment before his gaze locked onto yours.

"Hey," Charles said warmly, pressing a gentle kiss on your cheek. "I see you've met Pierre again." He winked at his best friend, knowing well of your past playful banter.

You laughed, feeling more at ease with Pierre around. "Yes, and he's been showing us around the paddock. It's incredible!"

"Wait till you see the race," Charles said, a sparkle in his eyes. "It's going to be something else."

Pierre, ever the teasing friend, leaned in and grinned. "So, Charles, you didn't tell me you had such beautiful company joining us today."

Charles rolled his eyes but chuckled. "You know Y/N, and you know Sofia. They're here to enjoy the race."

Pierre raised his hands in mock defense. "I'm just saying, it's not every day we have two stunning ladies on the paddock."

Sofia laughed at the playful banter between the two friends while you blushed, feeling both flattered and a little bashful. You knew that Pierre was teasing, since you also knew that a lot of celebrities are attending the Formula 1 races, especially in Monaco.

As the day at the paddock drew to a close, it was time for you and Sofia to bid farewell to Pierre. You exchanged warm hugs and promises to catch up again soon. After Pierre left, Charles led them to the prestigious Ferrari motorhome, an exclusive area where the team members relaxed and strategized during the race weekend.

"Welcome to our humble abode," Charles said with a grin, gesturing toward the impressive motorhome.

You and Sofia stepped inside, your eyes widening in awe at the luxurious interior. Charles introduced you to some of the Ferrari team members, who greeted you warmly. Then, he led you to meet Carlos Sainz, his teammate.

"Hey, Carlos, these are some friends of mine, Y/N and Sofia," Charles said, smiling.

Carlos shook your hands with a friendly smile. "Nice to meet you both. I see Charles wanted you to have the supreme package."

You chuckled. "Oh, he's certainly not shy about it."

Sofia laughed, playfully nudging you. "And she's not shy about teasing him either. It's great to meet you, Carlos."

Carlos and Sofia seemed to hit it off immediately, engaging in lively conversation about the race, their experiences, and their interests outside of Formula 1. You couldn't help but smirk as you noticed the ease with which they connected.

Charles looked on, amused by the interaction between his teammate and Sofia. "Looks like you two are getting along well," he remarked.

Carlos nodded, grinning. "Yeah, Sofia is fun to talk to. You've got good taste in friends, Charles."

"Hey, I know," Charles replied with a playful wink, looking at you.

As the evening progressed, you and Sofia enjoyed spending time with the Ferrari team, soaking in the atmosphere of camaraderie and excitement. You were treated to a delicious snack and even got to see the team strategizing and preparing for the upcoming race.

As it was getting later, Charles walked up to you while Sofia was once again talking to Carlos.

"So... What do you say? Want to come over tonight?" he asked, and you looked at him a little surprised.

Before you could answer something, Sofia ran up to her. "OMG, Y/N, Carlos asked me out to dinner. You don't mind, do you?" she asked, and you looked at her.

"Of course not! Have fun!", you said and pushed Sofia in Carlos's direction. The two were talking and then said their goodbyes.

"So, does that mean you have time?" Charles asked, and you smiled.

"Apparently, I do."

Charles smiled and walked out of the paddock with you, leading you to his car. You were photographed as you left the paddock, and you tried to lower your head as best as you could. Charles led you to his car, and then you drove to his apartment.

As you entered, Charles put his things down and looked at you. "So, what do you wanna do?"

You smiled and looked around in his living room, especially at the big TV. You grinned at Charles, and he understood.

"Movie night it is", he smiled. He walked over to his room. "Do you want something more comfortable to wear?" he asked you from the bedroom.

"Oh, that would be great", you answered, and he stood in the door with some short sweatpants and a shirt. You took them and smiled at him.

"You can change in there. I'll put on something more comfortable as well", he said, pointing at the clothes in his hands as he made his way to the bathroom.

You went into his bedroom, changing into more comfortable clothes. You put her hair in a messy bun and decided to remove your makeup. Since you felt that comfortable with Charles, you didn't care.

As you stepped out of the bedroom again, Charles was already lighting some candles and his cozy living room, dimly lit by the soft glow of flickering candles strategically placed around the room. The evening sun has set, and the darkness outside is met with the warm ambiance inside.

Then you heard a popping coming from the kitchen when you smiled at Charles. "I see, you are prepared" you grinned, and he nodded.

"Hey, no movie without popcorn", he smiled, and then he realized that you were purely natural now, with no make-up and your hair in a messy bun. And he loved it.

He finished preparing the popcorn before hopping onto the couch and patting next to himself to invite you to sit with him. You smiled and sat down next to him as he spread a blanket over you.

"So, what movie should we watch?" Charles asked, looking at you with a playful grin.

Your face lit up with excitement, and you couldn't hide your enthusiasm for fantasy movies. "Oh, there are so many great ones to choose from! How about 'Lord of the Rings'? Or 'Harry Potter'? Or maybe 'The Chronicles of Narnia'?"

Charles chuckled, realizing that you had a vast selection of fantasy movies to choose from. "You really love your fantasy, don't you?" he teased.

You nodded eagerly, "Absolutely! I love the magical worlds and the epic adventures. It's like escaping to another realm."

Charles chuckled and looked at you with adoration, as you were already dipping into a different world. "Which one is your favorite?"

You looked at him, blushing. "Well, my all-time favorite is still Y/F/M, I guess", you said shyly, and he got up from the couch, and to your surprise, he put it in.

"Y/F/M it is", he said and sat back down.

You smiled warmly at him and then cuddled closer to him so that your bodies touched. As the movie went on, you got closer and closer to each other so that when the movie was almost finished, Charles had his arm around your back, softly caressing the skin on your back, as your shirt slid up a little and you had your head on his chest and one leg over his, breathing in his scent.

As the movie night comes to an end, you and Charles find yourselves wrapped in each other's embrace, still feeling the excitement and emotions of the films you watched. The closeness you shared during the movie has intensified your feelings for each other, and the atmosphere in the room becomes charged with undeniable chemistry.

Your lips meet in a passionate kiss, and you both feel the spark between you grow stronger. Your hands gently explore each other's bodies, and your hearts race with desire. However, amidst the passion, your voice breaks the moment.

"Charles," you whispers, your breath slightly uneven. "I... I'm not ready to take this step yet."

Charles stops immediately, understanding the importance of your words. He pulls back, looking into your eyes with genuine care and respect. "Y/N, I completely understand. We don't have to rush anything. I want to be with you, but only when you're ready."

You smiled gratefully, feeling a wave of relief wash over you. You appreciated Charles's understanding and the fact that he respected your boundaries. "Thank you, Charles. I really care about you, and I don't want to ruin what we have by rushing things."

Charles caressed your cheek tenderly, "You won't ruin anything. I'm here for you, and I want to take things at your pace. We'll always communicate openly and honestly about what we're comfortable with."

You pushed yourself up a little and gave him another tender kiss. "You are just the perfect gentleman, aren't you?"

Charles chuckled. "What can I say? My Mom had some strong opinions when it came to her parenting."

You smiled. "And what about your dad?" You noticed an immediate shift in his demeanor, and your smile faded. "Sorry, I didn't mean to overstep."

"You didn't", Charles said softly, smiling at you with a sad smile. "It's just that my Dad died a few years ago. He was really sick and well..." Charles sighed. "He is the reason I am what I am now."

You looked at Charles and caressed his chest, comforting him. "I'm sorry about your Dad, Charles."

"It's okay... Well, it was hard, but we managed." He cleared his throat and pulled you a little closer. "What about your family? I never asked. How are they feeling about you, being gone for so long?"

You chuckled. "Well, I'm really close to my Mom. It was always us two against the world." You averted your gaze slightly and pressed your lips together. "My Dad... Well, let's just say he's gone for a long time."

Charles realized that you didn't want to talk about it further and accepted it. "So, do you wanna watch another one or head to bed?" he asked instead.

You looked at your phone for the time and then stood up slowly. You stretched out your hand to Charles to pull him to his feet. "Bed it is. You have a tough day tomorrow, Mr."

Charles laughed and stood up as well. You put out all the candles and the electronics before heading to bed. You snuggled up to Charles as he opened his arms warmly for you. You could hear his heartbeat and just felt comfortable.

As you lay in each other's arms, Charles took a deep breath, gathering the courage to ask the question that's been on his mind. He looked into your eyes, a mix of vulnerability and hope in his gaze.

"Y/N, I've been thinking a lot about us, about where this is going," he began softly. "And I know it's still early, but I can't help but wonder what you see for us in the future."

Your heart skipped a beat at his question, and you appreciated his willingness to discuss your relationship openly. You took a moment to gather your thoughts, wanting to be honest with him.

"I've been thinking about it too," you admitted, your voice steady. "And I have to be honest with you, Charles. When we started this whole thing, I wasn't looking for anything serious. I wasn't prepared for the way I'm feeling about you now."

Charles nodded, understanding where you were coming from. "I felt the same way, to be honest. I never expected to fall for someone that quickly, especially with my career and everything that comes with it. But being with you has changed everything, Y/N. You've become such an important part of my life."

You smiled softly, feeling a warmth in your heart. "You're important to me too, Charles. That's why I'm worried about how all of this will work out. Your career is incredible, and I don't want to be the reason you miss out on anything."

He took her hand, gently intertwining your fingers. "Y/N, you're not holding me back. I want to be with you, no matter what. Yes, my career can be demanding, and there will be challenges, but I believe we can face them together."

You looked into his eyes, seeing the sincerity and love in his gaze. "I want to be with you, too," you said softly. "But I'm just scared of how it might change things."

Charles nodded, understanding your fears. "It's natural to be scared, Y/N. But we don't have to figure it all out right now. Let's take it one step at a time, enjoy being together, and see where life takes us. And if at any point you feel overwhelmed or unsure, we'll talk about it, okay?"

Your heart swelled with love for this understanding man. "Okay," you replied, a small smile forming on your lips. "I'd like that."

He leaned in, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. "Good, because I really care about you, Y/N. And I want to be there for you, no matter what."

You cuddled closer, feeling a sense of peace wash over you.

#Charles Leclerc #Charles Leclerc x Reader #Charles Leclerc Fanfic #Formula 1 x reader #Formula 1 #Charles Leclerc Romance #Formula 1 Romance #Ordinary x Celebrity #Celebrity relationship #Racing Hearts #Kim writes again

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1000punks · 5 months

Text

Of Paradise For Hell (Part 1)

masterlist. || read on AO3

pairing: Haarlep x named!Tav (non-binary OC) / eventual Haarlep x named!Tav x Raphael

warnings: 18+. nsft. mdni. obviously spoilers for act 3 (house of hope). very slow burn but they're naked the whole time. a later chapter will contain consensual somno.

word count: 2, 993

named!Tav is my non-binary tiefling ranger, Festé. i was seeing far too few fics with tiefling!Tav and i thought it was crucial, nay, critical to include them in the headcanons. i hope you all enjoy! ♡

Today had been a frustrating and long day. Festé and the others had finally succeeded in rooting out Orin's lair and clearing it of Bhaalists. They would save the Bhaalspawn herself for the next day, retiring back to their rented rooms for the night.

As Festé was crawling into bed, however, they found yet another one of the envelopes, this time a deep crimson, tucked halfway under their pillow. Understandably, Festé's nerves were frayed, having been the one to find all of Orin's little "gifts" in their camp since she had first appeared before them in Rivington. Looking around nervously, they picked the envelope from between the bedclothes, swallowing and flexing their fingers cautiously before tearing it open from the corner. Festé held their breath as they all but tore the stiff parchment from inside, scanning it quickly and relaxing exponentially when they recognized the script. Not Orin's messy, chaotic hand, but elegant, sloping Infernal. Meant for their eyes only.

He will be gone for half a tenday. Stay with me. Don't make a mess getting here or it will be your soul as well.

Festé sighed in relief, letting out a half-chuckle at the prospect of him owning their soul. They knew it would never come to that, he was far too infatuated with the chase of it all, the theatrics. They looked up and around once more at their sleeping comrades, hastily scrawling their own note that they would be back in the morning. They could only be so reckless when there was a shapeshifter on the loose, after all. Festé grabbed their cloak and stole out of the room, quiet as a mouse, you could say.

They arrived in the now-familiar castle, breathing out deeply and pausing to feel the warm air of Avernus enveloping them, almost nostalgic for it. Unlike the others, especially Karlach, they embraced their short trips to Avernus - now, it was like coming home. Ever since they made their unofficial agreement with Haarlep, it was their nearly-private refuge.

And the agreement wasn't anything like what he wanted from them, they shivered involuntarily at the thought as they crossed the antechamber quickly, their armour making soft clinks as they picked up speed.

"Come on now, don't seem too eager, you dolt," they muttered, trying to shake off the excitement and the nerves as they reached the doorway of the Boudoir. They halted suddenly when they saw Haarlep's all-too-familiar frame, biting into their lip. Would it ever get easier, they thought, would the sight of him ever fail to make them feel so weak and lightheaded?

"There you are, little mouse. And dressed in such fine armour, no less. I hope … " Haarlep trailed off, reclining in the bath and flashing a grin, putting palms together over the surface of the water, "… I pray … that you didn't come here to fight, dear one." Festé only rolled their eyes playfully, relaxing their stance at the doorway before slowly walking into the room, their eyes fixed always on the incubus. Haarlep cocked an eyebrow as Festé reached for their longsword, unsheathing it in one motion before setting it on the floor, straightening up and matching Haarlep's wide grin.

"I wouldn't dream of it, Haarlep…" they drawled softly, reaching back to loosen the straps of their armour, lifting the plate over their head and letting it clatter to the floor as well. "I wouldn't say no to some, er, help with my boots and breeches though." They met Haarlep's eyes once more, their confidence faltering as a blush crept over their already rosy skin. Haarlep had sat up in the water almost silently, wings unfolded halfway and dripping softly.

"No, no, little mouse. Tonight you undress yourself, and come to my lap. I've already poured the wine for you." He gestured to their legs with an open palm, his gaze raking over their body already.

Festé's blush deepened, relenting easily under Haarlep's gaze, holding it with their own as they kicked their boots off one by one, bending to tug their breeches down soon after, raising their eyebrows as a silent plea. Haarlep always knew what to say to undo them, but was not forthcoming this night. Festé steeled themself and, underclothes be damned, treaded slowly into the water. They couldn't let Haarlep win all the way, could they?

"Now pet," Haarlep tutted, reaching out to hook one of the straps of Festé's bra off their shoulder, "You know I meant all the way." He purred, sitting up further and gathering them into his lap, forcing them to straddle his thighs and letting his tail snake up their back, pushing it's way under their bra slowly as he chuckled. Festé suppressed a shiver, not wanting him to win. Not yet. Haarlep, content with teasing them, turned and reached for the goblet of wine, pressing it gently to Festé's lips with an encouraging look, ready to pull away if they refused, but knowing they could not resist.

Festé caved on that front, a little too easily, and drank deeply, the wine warming them from the inside out. Haarlep silently set the goblet aside, replacing his tail with his hands on Festé's back as he leaned close to their ear, breathing hotly, "Very well, I can see that you're too stunned to speak in my presence, dear one." He loosed their bra from their body, letting it fall away in the water. "I hope that my … expertise - " he growled from his chest, eliciting the softest of moans from Festé's lips, "will loosen your tongue as it has a good many times before. After all, you little imp… " Haarlep clawed down their back slowly, as if carving his next words into their flesh, "what hath night to do with sleep?"

Festé pulled back and looked up at him dazedly, bringing their hands to his chest, their gaze now fixed on his lips like the old romantic they had always been. Haarlep leaned back, forcing them to press themself closer to him and knowing that the wine was doing curious things to them, particularly their heartbeat. The needy whines would start soon enough, he was sure, and trailed his fingers lightly up their back.

They both sat like that for a while, Haarlep tracking how each of his slow, gentle movements made Festé's breath hitch, finally taking his hands off their skin and chuckling when their hips shifted, their head shooting up from its place on his shoulder.

"Haarlep, I-I'm - " they breathed out a sigh of despair, rolling their hips forward slowly and relaxing somewhat at the relief it seemed to give them, if only momentarily. "What have you done to me, you godsforsaken incubus?" Their voice shook almost imperceptibly as they lay their head back on Haarlep's shoulder. Festé's breath was hot against Haarlep's neck, and it was almost enough for him to take pity and give them the relief they sought.

Instead, he gripped their hips tightly. forcing them to stop with a purr, "Why, only what you agreed to when accepting my invitation, little mouse. the cat is away, and that is our cue to play, is it not?" Haarlep moved one hand to Festé's chin, tilting their head up and leaning close, "My intent is to undo you completely, I want your inhibitions low, your guard down. I want you to prove to me - " he paused, brushing his lips over theirs, the sudden heat making Festé flinch, " - that your body belongs to me."

Honeyed words, Festé thought, tilting their head and pressing a chaste kiss to Haarlep's lips, but part of the dance nonetheless. They sat back and studied his face, willing their hips not to move as they panted out, already desperate for release. They flashed the incubus a cocky smile against their better instincts, knowing it would be used against them later. "You," they rasped, "have to take it from me. You … have to make me lose control."

All it earned them was a hearty laugh, a deep belly laugh that echoed off the stone walls of the Boudoir. Haarlep adjusted his grip to their jaw, squishing their cheeks firmly and leaning down to lick up their neck, growling softly, "I wish it were more of a challenge, pet. Even with your 'superior' instincts, you make it so deliciously easy for me." He pushed Festé back from himself suddenly, enjoying the fleeting fear that flashed across their face, paying no mind to the water splashing around their two bodies. "Get up, pet. It is time you let old Haarlep lead you to ruin."

Festé scowled, defiance rising in their chest at his implications, settling themself firmly on Haarlep's thigh and starting to move their hips once again. Starting to shake as the wine bolstered their already growing lust for the hateful incubus. They moaned brazenly now, their eyes glazing over and their mouth falling open, resting their cheek to Haarlep's palm as he slowly released his grip on their jaw. They knew that with a snap of his fingers, he could have them bound in chains or completely nude, but the moment didn't come. Perhaps it was a testament to the devil's self-control, or simply that he was enjoying the show. Festé guessed at the second one, feeling Haarlep's free hand claw up their back once again, harder, more painful as he pulled them in for a hot kiss, molding Festé's shape against his own. The kiss grew deeper, Festé's moans muffled against Haarlep's silver tongue; and they grew more desperate, grinding their hips more firmly, chasing their pleasure along his thigh. They almost didn't notice Haarlep's arm snaking around their waist, crushing them closer.

Haarlep's wings flexed once more above the surface of the water, dripping softly for a moment before propelling both of them into the air. He broke the kiss first, laughing his deep laugh once more as Festé choked back something between a scream and a whimper. The momentary fear and the loss of contact left them a clinging mess, wrapping their arms around Haarlep's neck tightly and growling, "Usually the art of seduction doesn't include trying to kill the object of your desires, Haarlep!"

Their trajectory suddenly changed, Haarlep was pushing their body below his as Festé looked up at him in abject horror, earing only a chuckle in return as they careened back toward the floor. They prepared themself for the inevitable pain, when he would break them, quite literally, on the hard stone below. But again, the moment never came. Festé's back hit the soft cushion of the bed instead, Haarlep's body instantly covering their own like a blanket. He pinned them gently but effortlessly as they tried to catch their breath. His hands closed around their wrists like manacles as he towered over them, smirking widely. "Fear, in a healthy dose, is an excellent seduction tool, precious little lamb. You know your dear incubus would never let this beautiful body come to any real harm, don't you?"

A look of concern, real concern, passed over his face as he stroked Festé's cheek, waiting for their reassuring nod and shudder at his touch before he ghosted his fingers down their neck, moving them even more lightly down their sternum and stomach, allowing them to arch up to his touch before laying over them, whispering to their ear, "And you know our safe word, pet?"

Festé nodded once more, this time letting out a whimper at the heat of his skin on theirs, squirming under him and knowing it was useless. His grip on their wrist tightened, his palm pressing into their stomach firmly. "Say it, pet. I want to make sure you remember." His tone was playful, but commanding.

"P-precor … " Festé stammered against his neck, and suddenly the pressure on their stomach was released, replaced by the slow, teasing touches they had grown to love so much. Haarlep truly had a way with melting all the tension out of their body, as well as stringing them so tightly that they feared they would break. It contrasted so well with his touches that the two together would surely make them burst.

Haarlep broke them out of their reverie by slipping his hand down the front of their underwear, kissing them softly and chuckling, "Come now dear, you have the look of someone who is realms away. Let us bring you back here to Paradise… " And indeed, he did, Festé's lust for him rising too easily as he began to tease over their clit, his gaze fixed on their face.

Festé was long past pretending now, long past holding back their sounds from the devil. This was a battle they could never win, and in truth, they were glad to lose it, every single time. They strained against Haarlep's grip on their wrist until he relented with a playful sigh, only allowing them to prop themself up on their elbows as he continued his slow, heated touches between their legs.

"Please, p - unh … Please, Haarlep… kiss me… " it came out as a sighing moan, and the incubus was only too pleased to indulge them, leaning down and locking their mouth with his own, gripping the back of their neck tightly and giving them no escape. Festé returned the kiss with vigour, daring to lick into his mouth and earning a bite as Haarlep pressed his weight down on them. He slowly drew his fingers through the growing slick in the tiefling's underwear, withdrawing his hand slowly and spreading his fingers over their lower stomach. Festé could only whimper as Haarlep gripped their thighs, drawing them around his waist while he deepened the kiss.

The incubus' self-control was, once again, astonishing to Festé. They drew him closer with their legs, pressing their hips up to grind against him slowly, breaking away from his lips to moan against the shell of his ear before moving to bite down his neck. Haarlep betrayed a low groan in response, resting his full weight on top of them with a relaxed sigh. His hips slowly began to meet Festé's rhythm as his hands smoothed up their sides. He wouldn't ever say it out loud, but he enjoyed a little care being taken with his needs as well. He keened at Festé's particularly hard bite to his shoulder, his wings spreading above them both instinctively.

Festé chuckled softly against his heated skin, looking sideways up at him before sucking a deep bruise into it, their hands massaging the spot just under his shoulderblades. Haarlep shot an uncharacteristically tender glance down at them, moving to press them down against the bed with a soft laugh. "Such a sweet pet you are. But… " he traced a single finger over their bottom lip lightly, "I want to show you what Haarlep's mouth can do, my dear." His voice was a little sharp, making Festé smile and suck at the tip of his finger, pushing their luck just a little further.

It was to no avail, he was already working their underwear off their hips, meeting their eyes and clawing down their stomach. With a wide smile, he forced their thighs apart, running his thumbs along either side of their precious slit, humming his approval at the gasp they sucked through their teeth. "It's just as I thought, little mouse," he whispered, his face going slack in mock seriousness, "You find me so utterly irresistible, don't you, sweet … little … dear … " Haarlep punctuated the last few words with slow kisses over Festé's chest, pausing to suck deeply at one of their nipples and all but ignoring the near-scream they let out above him. It merged with the softest symphony of whimpers as he moved down, planting hot kisses to their stomach and hips. Festé threw their head back, trying to even out their breathing as he kissed the insides of their thighs. At the first lick, their hands shot to grasp at his horns, and the second had them letting out a throaty moan, rolling their hips up to meet his mouth.

Haarlep paused, holding their hips for a moment before squeezing them tightly enough to plant bruises, burying his face deeper between their thighs. Festé could only respond by tugging at his horns more insistently, trying to find a rhythm with their hips once more. Haarlep wouldn't allow it, digging his nails into their flesh hard enough to draw blood. Festé looked down, a little shocked with the pain, but nodding breathlessly, relaxing into the feeling that began to build low in their stomach. Haarlep kept his eyes on theirs, cocking an eyebrow as they started to stifle their moans, and finally moving one hand to their stomach, pressing firmly as a final warning.

Festé finally relented, moaning deeply ad they looked into his eyes, no longer able to follow the individual movements of his tongue as the licks and sucks became too intense and began to blur together in a crescendo of heat. They went limp, finally breaking for him. Their moans echoed off the stone ceiling as they pressed their hips up shakily. Up to his touch, his mouth, shuddering and twitching above him as well as against his lips.

"Thank… thank y-you, Haa-ahh - " they clenched their teeth around another moan as they felt two of his fingers slide easily inside them, Haarlep chuckling deep in his chest as he continued to lick at their clit, soft as you please.

Except that Haarlep suddenly looked up, his mouth glistening, and seeming to notice something that Festé could not. He never stopped his fingers as he listened for a moment. "I have a surprise for you, little one," he whispered, leaning up to press kisses against their neck, nuzzling their skin as he slowly worked them up again. Then finally, in the moment before Festé came undone for him a second time, they heard the footsteps.

A/N: heyyyy! couple of things

1. i know this seems super self indulgent, and it is! i wanted more time with the damn incubus and his damn demon master

2. i know Haarlep has been accepted as non-binary by the fandom, assume this is masc!Haarlep and consider it being easier to use he/him for them to not confuse what they're doing with the other non-binary they/them doofus- it's just for clarity and ease of reading, lovers please don't come for me :'D

3. Festé is pronounced "fest-ay", it's a name i got from a character in twelfth night- the fool. Festé is a fool and in my bg3 file they are an astarion truther. you can see where i'm going with this: they're a "i can fix him" girlie

#.txt #.fic #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #haarlep x tav #haarlep x named!tav #haarlep x raphael #raphael x tav #raphael x named!tav #haarlep #raphael #fic: of paradise for hell

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ficbrish · 7 months

Text

To Belong

Rating: Explicit 18+ only!

[AO3 Link]

[Kinktober 2023 prompt thanks to @absurdthirst! October 6th - Collar/Leash]

[[TW/CW: Dom drop, cptsd, blood, alcohol, smoking, choking, service, oral]]

Summary: Astarion and Vistri seek the help of old friends for a bit of kink coaching.

Takes place during post-canon (about 4 years after). There are SPOILERS FOR THE ENDGAME OF BG3 directly under the line!

Penance is my friend's OC and we co-wrote the group scenes. The AO3 link has more information and where you can find their companion smut to this. Which is ❤️‍🔥

[Click here for my other Kinktober one-shots]

Astarion had a roguish glint in his eyes and a smirk on his face. His hands were hidden behind his back, and it looked to Vistri like he held something as he strutted over to her in their bedroom.

“Uh oh.”

He smiled, a chuckle under it, “I haven’t even said anything.”

Vistri stepped closer to rest her hand on his chest, appreciating the beating of his undead heart. It fluttered as if he were nervous.

“You don’t have to say anything. I can just tell.”

Astarion bent over and leaned forward to speak low by her ear, “Now that I’m here, you might as well give us a kiss.”

She smiled and moved a curl away from his forehead. He wore that soft, mischievous look; one of his many ways of showing adoration.

Vistri brought her mouth up to his. That little moan he always let out whenever their lips met made, “I love you,” slip from Vistri’s tongue once she pulled away.

“I don’t think I caught that. Be a dear and repeat it for me.”

“You didn’t hear?” Vistri teased, “Let me get closer then.” She nestled her lips against his earlobe and whispered, “I love you, Astarion.”

He shivered pleasantly, just a little bit. Vistri kissed his cheek affectionately before taking a step back. She’d fight a whole other Netherbrain just for the way he looked at her right now.

“And I love you, dearest Vistri.”

She hummed with satisfaction before asking, “What is that behind your back?”

“A delightful little surprise,” he brought his hands around to show her a box that was wrapped in pretty paper.

Vistri couldn’t help the smile on her face, “You thought of me?!”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous. I think of you all the time! A normal, healthy amount. Just every morning, noon, and night—And all the seconds inside them.”

Vistri laughed and ripped open the giftwrap, “I only meant it’s not a holiday or anything.”

“I don’t need a special occasion. Just you, my love, to inspire me. Now stop staring at me and open that gods damn box before I get too excited and spoil the surprise.”

“I’m opening it! Gods!” Vistri protested in mock offense.

She lifted the lid and moved aside the tissue paper. Vistri looked back at Astarion with the biggest eyes, “You didn’t!”

He seemed so genuinely pleased with himself, “I just wanted to make another of your dreams come true.”

On top of a velvety bed sat a collar. And not just any collar, but the collar. It was made of dragon scale leather and inlaid with opals and pearls.

“It matches my face!”

“That’s not too macabre, is it? I thought it was cute, but then I thought—”

“Astarion! It’s perfect!”

Vistri enveloped his chest in the biggest bear hug her little arms could manage, smashing into him with such force that Astarion almost toppled over. He could feel her hot breath seep through his clothing. Speaking with her face still tight against his chest, she asked, “But… Are you sure?” with muffled concern.

They’d talked about doing something like this a few times over the years. Vistri yearned for his collar ever since she fell in love with him, but Astarion had been traumatized in a kennel. Astarion, being the person he was, tried to convince her he’d be fine, but Vistri didn’t want it if it wasn’t for him too. Being owned and belonging to him in the way a collar represented came from a resilient need for restoration and reclamation. It wasn’t just about Astarion feeling ready, he had to want it in the same way. It couldn’t be something he put himself through just to make her happy. It had to be something they both re-enacted in order to heal.

“I want us to have fun and live our lives the way we want,” Astarion answered, “I’m tired of Cazador still having his way with parts of my mind. I want to take back everything he’s taken, and I want to do it with you.”

Vistri had tears in her eyes, she was so happy, “It means everything to me that you trust me with this, and I promise to do everything to keep you safe.”

Astarion held her tight, resting his head on top of hers. They stood there embracing for a good few minutes before breaking apart.

“And I will do the same,” he promised.

They started slow, with Vistri simply wearing the collar around for a few days. Astarion could see her in it, knowing what it meant, and sit with how that felt before getting into anything more intimate. She’d wear it for benign conversations or reading a book. She’d take it off for any serious moments or prolonged physical contact.

Years ago, Vistri consulted Shadowheart about eventually navigating something like this with Astarion.

“It’s not that I lack experience in this…”

“Area?” Shadow suggested, “Field of study?”

“Exactly!” Vistri continued, “It’s just, all my experiences were with people who took what they wanted and didn’t consider me.”

Karlach would have scooped her into a sweeping hug, but Shadow just passed the wine and explained everything she could. And that was exactly why Vistri was admitting this in Shadow’s tent versus anyone else’s.

She explained concepts to Vistri like aftercare, Dom drop, and the simple idea of taking things step-by-step in your own timing.

“It can be easy to fall into the trap of feeling like the villain,” Shadow admitted, “The healing part is… I don’t know. Maybe it’s just doing the things that were done to you, but with everyone feeling good and okay instead of… what it actually was.”

During their trial period, as Vistri and Astarion referred to it, they would check in with each other a lot to see how things were settling. One night as they sat together on one of their sofas, Astarion answered, gently toying with the collar around her neck.

“It’s absolutely stunning on you.”

The feeling of his fingers lightly brushing along her throat drove Vistri wild, but she needed to stay grounded if she was going to keep Astarion grounded too.

“I love it almost as much as I love you. Your taste is immaculate, my dear.”

Astarion giggled happily, warm and secure, “I could have picked any old bit of leather, and you would wear it like perfection.”

“But you didn’t just pick any old bit of leather.”

“I did not,” he chuckled, “I searched and searched until I found the very best one, because you deserve no less.” He playfully poked the bridge of her nose for emphasis on the word, you.

Vistri stroked his hair, “I’ll happily be your prized pet.”

“My beloved, cherished pet…" Astarion smiled dreamily, "I rather like that.”

“I like that too.”

“Is that what this is then?”

“Do you want it to be?” Vistri checked, “That—Does it feel good to you?”

“It feels sort of wonderful, actually. Does it feel good for you?”

“Oh, it feels lovely!” she answered affectionately.

After discovering what it would mean to them, they decided to take it a step further. Vistri would wear her collar, and they’d go about their evening as usual. This time, however, Astarion would ask her to take off bits of clothing until she wore nothing else.

Vistri sitting by the fire was the picture of contentment. Flickers of light caught on the opals in her collar, making them dance. And Astarion would stare at her.

Before saying something like, “And now your shirt, my dear.”

Her eyes grew more eager with every article shed. Astarion kept asking how she felt, knowing each time the answer would be the verbal manifestation of everything sitting in her expression.

Then he’d tell her how that made him feel, “I love watching you choose to do what I want you to do.”

Since that went so well, they got confident. A couple nights later, Vistri was again left wearing nothing but her collar. Swept up by her existence that night, Astarion gave her a new kind of command.

Every moment between them was a little more intense than usual. They saw each other a little brighter, felt the ache of their love in a different way, and that filled them with the rush of brand-new lovers. It was just one of those days where they looked at each other with fresh eyes and were stunned by the sheer perfection they found in front of them. The heat on Vistri’s face grew as abundant as the slick between her thighs.

That night, she moaned every time Astarion asked her to take off another piece of clothing.

It made him feel greedy.

“Come over here,” he beckoned with a nod.

Vistri stopped performatively searching the bookshelf and turned with a smirk. “I know that tone,” she teased.

Astarion patted the spot on the sofa next to him and pouted, “Come be a good girl for Daddy.”

Vistri blushed and walked over immediately.

Astarion laughed appreciatively when she sat down, “Oh, you liked that. I can tell.”

Speechless, she bit her lip and smiled.

“Now why don’t you lay back for me, darling? I want to admire your form, and I can do it so much better when you’re in that position.”

She did as he suggested.

“That’s it, love.”

Astarion performed that predatory expression he wore so well; the one she trusted so much. “Now spread your legs for me,” he demanded with a sweeping, vampiric wave of his hand.

She did as he asked. Smirking, he moved closer, and she whimpered as he stroked her thighs. The anticipation of his touch almost outshined his actual touch. Her body knew his as the source of years of passionate ecstasy, and on top of that, it was the safest one hers had ever known. It gave itself to him entirely at the barest brush, at the least bit of attention. And here Astarion was, paying her every drop of attention and holding Vistri in both hands.

She cried out his name and wriggled under his fingers. All he had to do was run his palms up and down her thighs, and her want for him turned into madness. It was delicious enough to earn her praise, “How you purr for me when I pet you…”

“Please,” Vistri writhed, helpless; begging, “Take everything. I’m all yours.”

Astarion played with her until he couldn’t help himself. He ordered Vistri to help him undress, then claimed the home he found between her legs. They left her collar on for a while, but Astarion took it off to sink his teeth into her neck. It was the one thing they owned that they couldn’t afford to ruin with bloodstains.

Completely carried away with each other and the moment, they went a step further. Vistri screamed his name so sweetly it inspired Astarion to say, “That’s it, show us who you belong to.”

She shouted his name at every thrust, and once she started crashing around him, Astarion groaned and muttered, over and over, that he owned her. He fucking owned her. It went on for a while before he whined, spilling into her. As he rode out his pleasure, Vistri joined him in it and screamed that she was his. She was completely his.

It was a wonderful moment, but it settled over Astarion afterwards in a weird way.

Not immediately after either.

They checked in with each other as usual, and both felt fantastic. They kissed each other’s fingers and held each other; talked about everything and nothing for hours. Then they went into their trances, blissfully wrapped around each other.

It wasn’t until the next day, when Vistri secured the collar around her throat, that either of them noticed he was bothered. Astarion was excited one moment and in the next, shuddered, almost imperceptibly.

“Are you all right, darling?” she asked immediately.

The corner of his mouth lifted with a little smile, but Astarion was obviously shaken. “I’m not sure,” he questioningly stated.

“Why don’t we sit for a bit?” she suggested, carefully taking off her collar, “Hold on, it’s stuck.”

“Let me get that for you,” he tapped her shoulder, and she turned around for him to finish undoing the clasps.

Astarion looked lighter once it was off. Like some weight had lifted.

“What changed?” she asked, concerned.

He sat down next to her, “You know, I’m really not sure.”

Resting his head in her lap, Vistri played with his curls. She made a concentrated effort to hold her tongue, wanting him to have the silence he needed, and wouldn’t speak until he was ready to speak.

“It’s not like we really did or said anything we haven’t done or said before…” he started before trailing off.

“But not with a collar.”

“No, not with a collar."

Vistri swallowed the guilt and blame bubbling up over her reason. His curls were her final tether to reality, petting them gently to steady herself, “We don’t have to—”

“But I want to! That’s the tricky bit of it all. I like what we did, and it made me feel… I don’t know… Powerful and powerless all at once. And the powerlessness snuck up on me. I didn’t even know it was there until I saw you put on your collar again.”

“I’m so sorry, love.”

“You don’t have to be sorry.”

“Neither do you,” Vistri assured him. Then she asked, “Do you know what made you feel powerless?”

He thought about it, “It’s not about hurting you—You enjoy it too much for those kinds of thoughts to take purchase. Visibly, audibly—”

“Astarion!” Vistri laughed, more from relief than anything else. If he was joking again, he was starting to feel better, more himself.

“What? You just really, really, obviously adore the things I do to you. And I think that deserves to be stated out loud as often as possible.”

She raised an amused brow, “You’re getting off-topic.”

“Right!” he agreed, “Where was—Oh! Right. The powerless thing. As I said, it’s not about hurting you or doing something to you that you don’t want. It’s more about… I feel wrong for wanting you to belong to me. It isn’t about doing something that I don’t want to do. It’s about me wanting to do it in the first place.”

“It’s perfectly okay to want those things. Even with everything that’s happened.”

“I know. It just feels that way anyway.”

They just sat in that together.

Eventually, Vistri had an idea, “You know who we could always ask about this?”

Astarion chuckled, knowing exactly what she was about to suggest, “Jenny and her pretty Penny?”

“Yes! It’s about time we have them over to stay again.”

v---v v---v v---v v---v v---v

The four of them were absolutely delighted to see each other. Shadowheart and Penance looked the same as they always did, but entirely different too.

Shadow’s shock-white hair was even longer but rather than the tight, chained style she’d worn when they traveled together, she sported a softer braid. Penance had hers pulled up too, but neither had a hair out of place despite the dirt on their cloaks indicating a recent scuffle with something nasty. Penance towered over Shadowheart even more than Astarion did Vistri. His shoulders were broad, but Pen’s were broader. They were a visual contrast that made Astarion and Vistri look matched in comparison. All this to say, the tiefling was quite big. It even looked like she’d put on more muscle in the past six months. She had a few new scars too.

But it hadn’t been that long. Not really. Half a year, actually, but when you all used to live and fight together, even a week apart felt like a few years. The last time they’d all seen each other had been at Shadow and Pen’s farm, so seeing them again at their manor made it feel like even more time passed than it did.

Exclamations, hugs, and kisses exploded from the open door. Shadowheart was unusually animated, handing out such physical affections freely. Peace seemed to suit her; living in its safety had brought her to life. Penance, her stalwart sweetheart, was far more subdued by comparison, but no less affectionate. She offered Astarion a warm handshake and Vistri a kiss on the cheek. Even through their various greetings, Shadowheart and Penance always had a funny way of devoting a corner of their attention to each other at all times, as if there was an invisible tether between them.

“May we come in?” Shadowheart asked with a wink to Astarion.

“Why aren’t you a sweetheart! Yes, please step inside.”

Vistri noticed Pen wasn’t wearing her collar yet, and put her hand up to hers in blushing embarrassment.

Shadowheart could see Vistri’s discomfort for what it was and reassured her she wasn’t doing anything wrong, “It’s fine that you’re already wearing it—Moonmaiden’s mercy! It’s absolutely stunning! Astarion, what did you do? Sell a whole city?”

He laughed as they all stepped further in, “How little you think of me! I’d rob half the Upper City before selling anything.”

Everyone could feel Penance, the staunch Paladin of Lathander, tense up a little at the idea.

“Now, now, Pen,” Shadow purred, “Remember our friends and their little jokes.”

Vistri and Astarion shared a look from the corners of their eyes.

Penance insisted on taking their bags into their room despite the abundance of well-paid servants that swarmed them in the foyer.

“It’s no trouble,” she insisted, blushing under her blue-grey skin as she dismissed them.

They had a before-dinner catch up in the lounge by the fire. The deep glow of the Underdark shone through the windows.

“Sorry about the lack of sunlight, Pen,” Vistri apologized, noting their slight unease, “And the moon, Shadow.”

Shadowheart waved off her concern, “Darkness still has its moments. As for Pen…”

Her shoulders were tense, and she cleared her throat, “The light of the Dawnfather comes from within just as much as without.”

Shadowheart chuckled a little and took her hand to kiss it as if to say, What am I going to do with you?

They got the usual conversations out of the way first. Shadowheart had brought a new litter of kittens to the farm. Penance had just finished a new addition to the estate. There’d been a bit of drama between Astarion’s brothers and sisters. Lae’zel was still at war, but it was going well. Gale confirmed again there were no signs of new Elder Brain activity. They’d all gotten the same box of cigars from Karlach and Wyll.

“Well, now that we’re basically all caught up,” Shadowheart segued, “Let’s talk about why we’re all here.”

“You mean other than just to adore you two in person?” Vistri remarked with genuine flattery.

“Shadowheart said you two were exploring and that we could help. Right?” Penance asked.

Shadow placed a hand lovingly on her knee, “Precisely, love. Not to mention dinner.”

“Speaking of dinner,” Astarion said, “We still haven’t dismissed the cook in case you need any help preparing it, Pen. I know you’ve insisted, but you can always change your mind.”

Penance shook her head resolutely, “I will not change my mind. I’ve been planning this all week.”

“She wants to, Asty. Besides, Penance loves to show me all the ways she can serve, don’t you?”

The large tiefling shot her a million-gold smile. She did.

Astarion crossed his legs and languidly sat back, “Well, far be it from me to get in the way. When should we officially begin?”

“First, I’d like to reiterate what I’ve said before. However the two of you decide to explore is perfectly fine. For us, the collar is a symbol of our devotion to one another. I ordain and Penance serves. While her collar is on, she defers to me in all things. Her focus is mine. She is mine,” Shadowheart said.

Penance hung on to every word and a grin slowly spread across her face. The air shifted around them ever so slightly, charged with anticipation.

“Exactly so,” she added, “My primary attention will be on Shadowheart, so forgive me if I’m not much for conversation.”

“Typically, we keep to our roles quite strictly, but since this is all new for you, we’re happy to make exceptions as you learn,” Shadowheart finished.

Astarion tipped his head genuinely, “Thank you.”

“It’s our pleasure,” Penance smiled.

It was so easy to see why those two served the sun and the moon. Brightness poured out of the Paladin, and the Cleric was more than happy to soak up her every ray and reflect it right back. They tempered each other, complimented one another.

“You are our friends, and you know us well,” Shadowheart warned, “but we are a bit different when we’re playing formally. If anything happens that doesn’t sit right with you for any reason…”

“Safe word is ‘Barcus’,” Vistri finished for her.

“Right. Ours is ‘Netheril’.”

“Rest assured,” Pen said, “It pleases me greatly to serve.”

Gods, Shadowheart practically giggled, “Isn’t she darling?”

Penance leaned in for a kiss that was met with equal fervor.

“They are so sweet,” Astarion said to Vistri.

Vistri had a smile on her face she couldn’t get rid of, “Do you think we’re that sweet from the outside?”

“We can hear you talking about us, you know,” Shadow said.

“We know,” Astarion quipped, “That’s why we’re saying it.”

Penance gave Shadowheart a final peck and then made for the kitchen. There was work to be done and she was eager to do it. Not to mention the fact that, though she loved Vistri and Astarion dearly, she could never quite settle in their presence. They were always unpredictable and bursting with energy; difficult to keep up with at length. Rather than trying, she preferred to show her affection in other ways.

A servant approached her on her way to the kitchen, but she waved him off.

“No need to fuss over me. You will have to plate everything though. You know that’s not my gift,” Penance winked.

While she cooked, Shadowheart went over everything a second, third, and fourth time. But it was nice because it gave Astarion a chance to talk to her about what happened the other night. Vistri tried her best to just watch and not chime in. Shadowheart could understand him in a way she couldn’t in this instance. Shadow and Astarion were the people who held the leash, and they were platonic friends instead of sexual partners. As Astarion’s expression shifted from anxiety to relief and then joy, it became easier and easier for Vistri to sit back and stay quiet.

When Penance finally came back into the room, she was holding her collar.

Hers was the complete opposite of Vistri’s but commanded just as much presence. Made of restored leather and backed with reinforced steel; it was plain except for a singular moonstone. It was well-worn and loved even before they’d found it in the Shadow-Cursed Lands, and since having it repaired, it was obviously well-worn and loved again.

“Oh, that’s lovely!”

Penance politely dipped her head, “Thank you, Vistri.” Then she approached Shadowheart and presented the collar to her.

“This means she’s ready,” Shadowheart explained, “Are you two ready?”

Vistri and Astarion looked to each other and nodded.

“Yes,” they both said.

Shadow looked from them to Penance. Once her eyes were on her lover, she needed only to nod. Penance lowered herself to her knees. Even so, she was still so tall.

“Can you be good for me?” Shadowheart asked.

“Yes.”

The air between them was thick with trust and care. Shadowheart smiled and buckled the collar around Pen’s neck. For a brief moment, it was as if the world around them had ceased to exist and was born anew between them. As the moment passed, Shadowheart turned to Vistri and Astarion.

“Pen gives me her collar to let me know she’s ready. And then I put the collar on her as my way of letting Pen know I’m ready.”

Vistri looked to Astarion. There was a thoughtful, delighted smirk on his face, “Hmmm, I think I like that.”

“Would you like me to take it off so you can put it on me, my dear?” Vistri asked.

Astarion smiled warmly, “I just might!”

Vistri turned around so he could unclasp it. Once it was off, he offered it back to her. She accepted with a bright smile before giving it back to him.

He smirked, “Come sit on my lap.”

Vistri felt her heart flutter as she took to her perch. His smell was all around her. She could feel his chest against hers, and the movement of his relaxed breath.

“There you are,” he said as he secured it back around her throat, “Now the whole world can see how darling we are to each other. And by the world I mean Shadowheart, Penny, and the servants.”

Penance glared at Astarion before she could stop herself. Astarion froze. He forgot that “Penny” didn’t actually like to be called that and that only Shadowheart could actually get away with it in her presence.

Shadow corrected her before Astarion could stumble over an apology.

“Penance.”

The effect was immediate. Penance looked back at her like a guilty puppy.

“I came here to show off my perfectly trained pet, and here you are glaring at our hosts.”

Shadow’s voice was stern and icy. Vistri and Astarion knew they’d be stepping into roles, but they were also facing the experience and familiarity that came with years of this kind of play between them.

Vistri squeezed Astarion’s hand, Are you okay?

He squeezed it back and nodded an, I’m all right, love. Thanks for checking.

They watched the other couple resolve their conflict. Penance bowed her head in shame and Shadowheart clicked her tongue disapprovingly.

“Misbehaving is rare for her. We do apologize.”

Astarion bowed his head, “No apologies needed, darling. It was my offense. May I offer your dear pet an apology?”

“If you must,” Shadowheart smirked.

He made eye contact and said, “I’m sorry I called you a name you don’t like. I’ll be more careful.”

“Thank you,” Shadowheart said for her as Pen bowed her head to express it, “Now, shall we admire her for a moment?”

“Don’t mind if I do,” he smirked.

Anyone could spend hours singing Pen’s praises. She was tall and broad even for a Tiefling, the result of many years of hard discipline. Her silver-blue skin was scarred and her hands calloused, evidence of her love for hard work. Her pale pink hair was shaved down on the back and sides with the rest tied back in a neat ponytail. She was terrifying to behold, and half it was just from being so beautiful.

“I cannot fathom another person who compliments you better, Shadowheart.”

“I suppose she’ll do. My great beast,” she observed.

“A mountain that greets the sun!”

Shadowheart smirked and circled Penance like a displacer beast around a hunk of raw meat. She ran her fingers over the tiefling’s biceps.

“She is quite striking, isn’t she? Well endowed,” she purred.

All the while, Penance stood perfectly still, waiting for an order and silently enjoying the attention. She was rather terrible at appreciating herself, but Shadowheart was more than happy to make up for it.

“I always knew you were a size queen,” Astarion teased.

Vistri looked up at one of the servants as he stepped into the room. He wasn’t one of the spawn, just a big fan of vampires. He was just George.

“Hello, George!” she waved.

He waved back, “Hello! Dinner is ready, by the way. If you would all please take your seats.”

As George left, Astarion stopped them all from moving to the dining room right away.

“Let’s not forget about my little dragon,” he offered Vistri a hand and pulled her to her feet.

“Exciting!” she said, “I’ll go stand next to Penance so you can admire us both at the same time.”

Shadowheart smiled at her dearest friend and Vistri smiled back. She was much warmer with Vistri, knowing discipline wasn’t as suited to her tastes as her own pet.

“Well, now, Astarion. I think you’ve got some competition. Vistri’s even prettier than you are.”

“I’d take offense to that, but I completely agree.”

Penance looked over at Vistri and winked, offering just a little encouragement of her own.

As they all moved over to the dining room, Astarion watched Shadowheart pull Penance to the side to check in. He took his cue to do the same with Vistri before sitting down at the table.

They pulled off into the room’s entryway and spoke low.

“Are you doing all right, love?” Astarion asked as he moved hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ear.

“It’s a little weird, but kind of a good weird. You know?”

He chuckled, “That’s how I feel too. It’s a bit startling at times, but it’s more exciting than anything else. So, you’re doing okay?”

Vistri nodded happily, “Yes. I’m perfectly content. Are you okay?”

“I’m wonderful,” he admitted, a little shyly.

“Kiss me,” she suggested.

Astarion leaned into her, pressing her back into the wall as he pressed his lips against hers.

They found themselves at the table before Shadow and Pen.

“Everything okay?” Vistri asked when they finally joined them.

Shadowheart nodded her head, “We’re fine. Pen isn’t totally used to an audience, but it’s well in hand. Leave her to me.”

Vistri put her hand to her heart, “We’re adjusting too, darling. Don’t fret about it.”

Penance nodded.

“It’s kind of exciting though, right?” she went on, “I mean, it’s all so new, but I’m already having a wonderful time. Plus, I get to share it with you and Shadow.”

Penance nodded again.

“Though, it is a little strange too—I suppose that’s the case with anything new though… What do you think?”

Penance sighed patiently, “Vistri, I’m trying to focus.”

“Right. Sorry.”

Penance took her duty so seriously that it was hard for Vistri to feel like she wasn’t slacking in some way. Maybe she wasn’t doing this right, not paying Astarion enough attention or giving him enough deference. Vistri looked to him for reassurance and he beamed back at her. So she looked over at Shadow, but she had no criticisms to offer. Besides, she’d reminded her over and over again that pets are individuals and dynamics are unique. Pen can be as staunch as she wanted to be, and Vistri could just be Vistri.

“No need to apologize,” Shadowheart smiled. She turned to her beloved pet, “Shall we eat?”

Their first course was a salad made with crops from their garden on the Surface. As the servants brought it out, Shadowheart explained how important it was to Penance for them to have a taste of the sun.

Astarion was genuinely touched, “Thank you. I truly appreciate that.”

Food didn’t sate his hunger, but he could still taste and admire it. More importantly, Vistri would enjoy it. He looked over at her happy expression from tasting one of the tomatoes. Even though Vistri grew up in the Underdark, Astarion always felt guilty for depriving her of the Surface and its food. She loved Surface crops, and the ones traded to the Underdark were never as fresh, or grown in the wrong soil down here. Astarion couldn’t put into words how grateful he was they’d brought her some picked just earlier that day.

So instead, he gave Penance and Shadow a toothy grin and said, “I remember this dressing. You made it all the time back at camp.”

Vistri agreed, mumbling and chewing, “Mmmpphh.”

“Don’t try to talk with your mouth full,” he chided playfully, “It’s rude and we have guests.”

Vistri glared back at him but there was a glint in her eye.

“Careful, Asty,” Shadowheart warned, “If you don’t tame your pets, they get wild.”

He turned to Vistri with a devilish grin, “All the ways I can think to tame you, beloved. My mind is rushing with the possibilities.”

She answered with a hellish look that complimented his, “In honor of our wonderful chef, how about a little penance?”

Astarion raised his eyebrow, “Oh?”

Shadowheart crossed her arms in amusement, waiting to see where her friends were going to take this. She looked over at Penance and could see, by the slightest twitch of her eyebrow, that she was critiquing her food and making mental notes adjusting the recipe for her dressing as she chewed.

“You did perfectly,” she said to Pen from the corner of her mouth.

Penance wiped her mouth with her napkin and smiled at Shadowheart. Then her eyes grew wide as her moment of pleased contentment was interrupted by Vistri’s next words.

“How do we all feel about blood at the dinner table?”

At least this time they were asking.

“Not while we’re eating!” Shadowheart protested, “Excuse yourselves for a moment and go do that in another room like civilized people.”

“It’s not that taboo here,” Astarion said, “We live in a city full of vampire spawn for gods sakes.”

“We live with animals that have more restraint,” Shadowheart sighed.

He stood up dramatically and giggled as he held his hand out to Vistri, “Come, pet. This is lovely but I need some real sustenance and you need to be punished. If you’ll excuse us for a moment or two.”

Shadowheart rolled her eyes happily at the sight of them skipping out of the room. Penance finally let herself chuckle at her moonbeam’s little zinger.

“Laugh it up, devil. I’m saving your punishment for later,” Shadowheart mused.

On the other side of the wall, Astarion pushed Vistri’s back into it with an eager kiss.

“You’re supposed to punish me,” she laughed, still pressed into his lips.

“I know,” he purred, “But I do so like misbehaving with you.”

He tangled his tongue with hers and Vistri tasted their wine and Pen’s salad. She felt his hands roam over her breasts, his lips move to her neck.

“I can’t wait to fuck you,” he growled as he licked her throat.

She sighed, “Bite me.”

Grinding his hips against hers, he sunk his teeth into her neck. Just a shallow cut he’d gladly lick up until it closed. Vistri wriggled between him and the wall, trying not to cry out.

The next course was already on the table by the time they got back. Roast duck with carrots and a colorful arrangement of potatoes. It smelled divine.

Shadowheart spoke once they sat down, “Got a little bit of red on your collar there, Vistri.”

Astarion stood back up at once, “Shit!”

Vistri leaned into him as he tried to rub the stain off with his fingers, but that only spread it around.

“Fuck it!” he said, bending over to put his mouth on her collar and suck off the blood. It was just easier that way! And even if dragon scale didn’t stain, he didn’t want to tempt it.

It was quite a sight, Astarion sucking on the collar around Vistri’s neck. Shadowheart laughed, “Gods, you’re like this even when you’re not trying to be.”

“Like what?” Vistri asked, head tilted with Astarion’s mouth still hanging on her neck.

Thankfully, the collar didn’t stain.

As dinner resumed, Astarion took note of how Shadowheart interacted with her pet. It almost seemed like she was ignoring her at first, since Penance wasn’t really part of the conversation, but every once in a while she would look over at her or touch her idly.

“Penance. Astarion’s cup is empty.”

Without wasting a moment, Penance wiped her mouth with her napkin and rose from her seat. She took the bottle of wine from the servant nearby, as if he was the one behaving strangely, and refilled Astarion’s cup.

With her task complete, she paused, looking to Shadowheart for guidance.

“Vistri, would you like more wine?” Shadowheart asked.

“Please!”

Penance filled her glass and then waited, once more, for further instructions. Shadowheart looked at her, holding her attention in the palm of her hand, knowing she could hold it there forever. After a long moment of this aching, glorious tension, Shadow nodded.

“You may sit.”

Once seated, Penance was rewarded with a hand on her cheek and a soft, “Good.”

Astarion watched them with rapt attention. Seeing Shadow and Penance act the way they did took away that wrong feeling. Around them, he felt validated and free to play. These people understood power and how its exchange was more than just cruel or petty; it could be so much more. He could, for lack of a better description, be a kinder Cazador to Vistri than he ever got. He could do similar things that were done to him, but from a position of power, and with the person he trusted and adored the most wanting him to do it.

He was truly confident and playful after dinner. He and Shadowheart were also tipsy enough to start showing off.

“Penance, show them how easily you can pick me up,” Shadowheart demanded.

She swept her into her arms like Shadow was a leaf. Blushing, she stared at Pen like she was dessert.

Astarion looked over at Vistri.

“I could try?” she shrugged.

“You don’t have to try. You sweep me off my feet every day without having to lift a finger.”

Shadowheart cleared her throat and leaned into Penance’s chest. “Put me down before I get you in trouble,” she said huskily.

Penance placed her gently on the ground, but Shadow’s cheeks were a little darker. Her breath a little tighter.

Astarion twirled Vistri into the middle of everyone’s view, “She might not be able to pick me up, but her honeyed tongue could talk a devil back to the Hells. And she has! Quite a few times, actually.”

Shadow walked up and pat Vistri on the head, “I was there for that, and you were so impressive.”

Penance let out an impatient noise. Shadowheart snapped her eyes to her.

“I see,” Shadow said tightly, “You want to be punished. The way you’re carrying on while I dote on my best friend is most unbecoming.”

Penance let out a long, tense sigh.

Astarion pouted, “Darling, I’m hurt! I thought I was your best friend.”

“You’re a different best friend!” she laughed, her firm manner melting away immediately.

“My, my, Shadow,” Vistri grinned, “Everyone’s fighting over you tonight.”

Astarion came up from behind and picked Vistri up. They fell back on the couch, laughing.

“Come lay down in my lap, you sweet thing,” he whispered into her ear.

He slowly stroked her face and hair as Penance served them brandy. She didn’t imbibe herself, but she did take some water over to Shadow’s side and knelt by her knees. Shadowheart leaned down and whispered something to her that made her swallow thickly.

Astarion, eyeing the box from Karlach and Wyll, was struck with an idea.

“Vistri, darling?” he called.

“Yes, love?”

“Would you be a dear and light us some cigars?”

The glint in her eyes reflected his.

“Gladly.”

Vistri got up to grab a cigar from the box, and the back of her neck tingled in the most delightful way. It wasn’t Astarion’s orders per say, so much as it was seeing him confident and unafraid. Figuring she’d bring it to him in the manner that would most please him, Vistri sat on his lap and told him to open his mouth.

"I think I'm the one supposed to be giving the orders, my darling," he corrected.

Vistri pulled a face and Astarion clicked his tongue, “Now don’t pout love. It’s Ladies first, and we don’t want to be rude. Besides, you’ll want to save the best for last.”

He gave her bum a squeeze as she leapt off his lap to put his cigar aside and present one to Shadowheart, who then placed it in Pen’s mouth. Vistri snapped her fingers and a little flame shot up from the tip of her thumb. She held it steady at the end of Pen’s cigar until she puffed it into steady life.

“Good girl,” Astarion purred, “Now come over to me.”

She grabbed the cigar she’d put to the side and paused before bending over to meet his smirking grin. He opened his mouth, and she placed it between his teeth. She fell into Astarion’s eyes, and kept staring into them as she snapped her fingers and bent to light his cigar.

He used the opportunity to capture her, sweeping Vistri into his lap.

Penance was already turning the room into a cloudy day.

Astarion took a generous puff before taking the cigar out of his mouth to kiss Vistri. She giggled and he growled.

“Share it with me, darling?” he asked her.

She nodded, and Astarion brought his cigar to her lips. Lingering on each consonant, striking them with emphatic warning, he told her, “Take it,” and pushed his thick cigar into her mouth. Grabbing the end of it between her teeth, she did as commanded and sucked. He held it there until puffs of smoke began to billow out of her mouth, making her eyes water.

Taking it so harshly without coughing once earned her another, "Good girl," whispered low by her ear.

Shadowheart didn’t particularly care for cigars, but the wine coursing through her veins had made her peckish, and since she couldn’t feast on Penance just yet, she settled for the smoke. She looked down at her pet and cleared her throat, batting her eyelashes. She patted the spot on the sofa next to her, and Penance hopped up with a grin.

Slowly, Shadowheart parted her lips and snaked her tongue just past the edge of her mouth. An invitation that Penance answered reverently with the end of her cigar. It was maddening to watch her inhale, but that madness was its own pleasure, and it was made even sweeter knowing that it was shared.

Shadowheart stared deep into Penance’s eyes and exhaled. It took every bit of the tiefling’s self-control not to lean in and devour her, but that would have been overstepping. So, she took the cigar back and sucked down a huge lungful of smoke before letting it drift slowly from her nose.

“I don’t know how you bear it, but then I remember you’re an infernal beast,” Shadowheart said evenly.

Penance’s eyes offered plenty of searing reply, “Your infernal beast.”

“You know Astarion,” Shadowheart mused, “Do you remember how I mentioned that wild pets need taming?” Astarion reluctantly pulled his gaze from Vistri.

“I do.”

Shadowheart pushed Penance gently off the couch and back onto the floor. Their eyes stayed trained on one another, and it was clear the time for company was coming to a swift end.

“I was speaking from experience. My pet may seem well-behaved now, but she’s got a devilish streak in her that must always be carefully minded. Shall I show you how I handle such a brute?” she asked.

Astarion leaned in close to whisper in Vistri’s ear, “Why do I feel like I’m in trouble too?”

Vistri giggled and kissed his cheek. “So scary,” she murmured back, “Reminds me of all the times we misplaced her eyeliner.”

Shadowheart snapped her fingers and Penance went entirely still, like a coiled spring.

“Pushups, I think,” Shadowheart said, pointing to the middle of the room, “Go on.”

Penance got to her feet and took a long pull on the cigar between her lips, never dropping her gaze. The length of the puff looked almost painful, but she didn’t so much as flinch. She took another, letting the smoke shoot out of her nose in long plumes. A devil indeed. Then she passed it to Shadowheart and made her way to the middle of the room.

“A beast needs a firm hand lest she start to forget herself.” Shadowheart said firmly.

Without skipping a beat, Penance dropped onto her hands and began slow, measured pushups. Her short-sleeved shirt gave an excellent view of her corded arms as they pumped. For a few moments, no one spoke. Everyone simply watched this display of powerful submission until the sound of Pen’s breathing became too much to bear.

Vistri twirled around in Astarion’s lap with the full intention of making a joke, to relieve a little of the thick tension in the room, but misjudged the force of her shoulders and her throat pressed into his mouth. He froze. Under usual circumstances, he would simply indulge in Vistri’s blood, with her permission, of course, but not in front of their guests.

He had to restrain himself in present company and that proved quite difficult with her so close and so sweet in his nose. Despite himself, he let out a soft, low moan.

Penance stopped moving, her attention similarly pulled to Shadowheart who had…also let out a rather telling noise.

The evening was promptly dissolved.

“Ahem, I think we should all retire before we lose what’s left of our reason.” Shadowheart announced.

Astarion took a moment to stand up and bid them goodnight. He turned to Vistri and commanded her to do the same.

“Say goodnight to our guests, pet.”

She blushed and bid them sweet dreams.

When Penance and Shadowheart left, they were alone.

He tackled her onto the couch, kissing her deeply and whining from his throat. Vistri met him with a fury that was hard to contain. They tasted like brandy and smoke.

“Take me to bed,” she begged him.

“Naughty, Naughty,” Astarion chided, full of heat, “We haven’t even settled our little bet.”

Their own cigar was smoked about halfway, but the ashtray with Pen’s was completely ash.

“Well, it's all gone but that took about ten minutes, so I say we both lose.”

v---v v---v v---v v---v v---v

They had a leash for Vistri’s collar they hadn't used yet. It wasn't near as grand; just a fine, black leather whose simplicity complimented the collar's grandiosity. After tonight’s dinner, Astarion felt ready. He put on the airs of a vampire lord to command her, “Come bind yourself to me, you sweet, delicious treat.”

Vistri gladly walked over to be taken. He fit her leash into the loop on her collar, and she was tethered.

He reached out for her face, caressing her cheek, “You just want to please me, don’t you?”

She nodded, “More than anything.”

“And what do you get out of it?”

“Your happiness.”

Astarion kissed her, then said, “That’s about me again.”

“I know.”

She was so sweet he had to kiss her one more time, “Then if you really want it all to be about me, you’ll serve.”

Vistri ran her hands along his chest, “I want to sate every desire. Until you feel perfect.”

“Believe me, my dear. You will.”

He fingered the leash between them, then tugged it to bring her closer, “You like this?”

She nodded with enthusiasm, “Oh, I like this.”

Astarion smirked, “Then get on your knees.”

His tone was firm, but still warm. Vistri kneeled and he towered over her, looking down and running his hands all through her hair. He positioned her head between his legs at the level of his hips. Vistri could see the hard imprint of him through his trousers and needed to put it in her mouth.

He ran his thumb across her bottom lip, then grabbed her chin to make her meet his gaze. Tightening his grip on the leash shortened the give between them, and he wrapped the leather around his fist a few times, “Now you can’t get away. Any regrets?”

Vistri crawled on her knees until she was pressed into him. Her face rested on his thigh and nuzzled it, “No regrets but that you are not yet buried deeply into my ache.”

Astarion grabbed a fistful of hair at the top of her head and pulled. She gasped pleasantly.

“Now don’t be so vulgar, darling. At least not yet.”

He let go of her hair to play with her lips again. She kissed his fingertips as they danced across her. He only abandoned them to undo the lacings on his trousers, and Vistri’s breath caught on her throat anticipating the sight of him.

He was stunning. His head pushing boldly passed his foreskin was art. His thickness was both threat and promise. Vistri turned her gaze back to his face and saw his fangs bared in his grin. So many parts of himself that he sank into her. She wanted them all, wanted all of him; to be devoured and taken over, owned.

“I long for it, Astarion,” she moaned, nestling her cheek into his palm.

He grabbed hold of himself and pressed his tip against her mouth, just like he had with the cigar. He watched her open up to take it, and held it just there between her lips.

His eyes rolled back for a second as her tongue flickered along it. He sighed, “Now that’s not fair.”

Vistri stopped.

“I didn’t say stop.”

She did it again.

“That’s better, pet,” he ran his hands through her hair.

Astarion took himself in hand again to push further into her lips. Just passed her teeth, just like he did earlier in the evening.

“You have to open your mouth so wide to take me, my dear.”

The sides of his lip twitched as she played with his head, now completely nestled on her tongue.

“Oooh,” he moaned, “You treat me so well.”

Vistri felt him take a slightly wider stance and tug her leash even tighter, bringing him even deeper into her mouth.

He grabbed hold of her chin again. He loved to cradle Vistri’s face in his palms with his cock in her mouth. He loved seeing himself disappear into her lips and come out coated in her sweet taste.

“Would you like the whole thing?”

She moaned her desperate consent, and he thrust himself into her throat. Steadily, his hips rocked against her lips. Slow, rolling thrusts in and out; languid.

Astarion watched, looking down at her, holding her leash. He felt… good. Like he had all the power in the world. Like she was his servile spawn and him a true lord.

And that didn’t feel bad.

He didn’t feel bad.

Astarion stared, drinking in her show until the drool started to drip from the corners of her mouth. Then he pulled himself out very slowly, just free of her lips, keeping himself right in front of her.

“Swallow,” he commanded.

Vistri caught her breath and swallowed the combination of his and her salivations.

Astarion patted her on the head as a reward, “That’s a good pet.”

There was still wetness dripping down her face, at the corners of her mouth and a little on her neck. He wiped her off with his fingers, and licked them, tasting her on his hands.

“Sod it! I can’t take any more of this,” he said, scooping her up to throw her onto their bed, full of rakish charm.

Vistri landed on her back. The bed bounced lightly with impact as Astarion crawled over on his knees to straddle her. He tugged the leash tight between them and pulled until she sat up to meet his lips. Astarion let out the hungriest groan and pushed her back down after adding more give to her tether.

Vistri was putty. Begging, writhing putty.

He stroked the spot on her neck that he drank from earlier. With the dragon blood running through her veins, it had already healed.

“We’ll just have to mark you again right after this. You did promise to sate my every desire, did you not?”

“I want the same thing,” she said thickly.

Astarion smirked. He was going to have to satisfy her to set her mind right. She was literally lost in her want.

The sight of her so helpless to him made him feel like he really belonged somewhere.

He pried apart her knees and leaned closer, his hands crawling up her leash. As he put himself inside her, after they both shouted out with closed eyes and opened them again to behold each other, he made another offer.

“Would you like me to wrap this around your throat as I fuck you?”

“Please,” she begged.

Astarion unhooked her leash and wrapped it around her neck like a scarf. Keeping her safe would require just enough concentration that he wouldn’t have to worry about losing himself. It was a lingering threat that allowed Vistri to let go completely and Astarion to stay grounded.

The collar was firm, and the leash was tight without being restrictive. Both pressures on her neck only made Vistri more eager for his teeth.

With one hand on her leash, and the other caressing her waist, he pumped into her. It was overwhelming. Trust was made more explicit and exposed their raw cores. The leash and collar wrapped around her were his arms cradling her heart as she exploded like a star. Vistri made Astarion feel so safe, he could just toy with her and take; to be a tyrant without being horrible.

He could fracture her, and she could fracture him, and at the end of it, know themselves and each other better.

Astarion screamed, “Thank you,” over and over as he came. Vistri was so spent by the time that happened, her voice was too rough to do more than whimper with tears in her eyes.

They panted and smiled at each other so wide they ended up laughing. He unclasped her collar before she left to refresh herself. When she jumped back into bed and into his embrace, she offered him her neck.

“You greedy thing,” he spoke against her skin before sinking into it.

v---v v---v v---v v---v v---v

Shadowheart checked in with Astarion the next morning.

“So,” she took a careful sip of her hot tea, “How is everything now that you’ve…”

“Fully stepped into my role?”

She nodded her head.

His voice was light, “We got out the leash last night!”

“How very exciting!” she smirked.

Astarion took a sip and adopted a serious face as he put down his cup.

“Uh oh.”

“Why is everyone always so quick to say that to me?”

“Because you’re you,” she smiled, “Now what are you on about?”

“I really… I really appreciate you and Pen for—”

She shook her head and waved her hand like it was no big deal.

“But it is a big deal. To me. So, I thank you,” he bowed his head, “You really made me feel better about myself, more myself. Does that make any sense?”

Shadowheart reached forward to give his knee an affectionate tap, “It makes sense, Astarion. And I’m happy for you. Truly.”

Penance and Vistri came over in an unusual chorus of laughter. Pen’s deep, rolling cackles were broken up by Vistri’s loud, pitchy squeals.

“What’s so funny, love?” Shadowheart asked.

Vistri squeezed her shoulder in greeting and winked, “Pet stuff, darling.”

“Oh, how ominous!” Astarion teased, “Dear Shadowheart, I do believe they’ve been talking about us behind our backs."

"Unlike you, mosquito,” Penance said, “The things I say behind people's backs are exactly as I would say to their faces."

Before Astarion could protest, Vistri hopped over and kissed the top of his head.

“I quite cherish the things you do behind my back,” she smirked.

Penance gave a little snort and looked over to Shadowheart with a wink, who just stared back.

“Don’t fish for compliments so early in the day,” she sighed. The smirk on her lips was more than enough regardless.

That evening, Penance and Vistri wore their collars again. Astarion and Shadowheart were seated on one of the couches as if it were a shared throne. Penance and Vistri held out their collars to their respective partners, and Astarion and Shadowheart smiled at each other as they secured them around their necks.

Dinner was just the same as last night but with everyone a little more settled. Everything more okay because they’d done it once before.

“A toast,” Astarion offered, the wine in his glass a bit thicker than the others, “To friendship, and above all…” his eyes sort of welled up, and he had to pause before continuing, “To family.”

The women raised their glasses, smiling warmly at Astarion as they met his toast.

“To family,” Vistri and Shadowheart said, and Penance nodded.

[Click here for my other Kinktober one-shots]

#vistarion #kinktober 2023 #absurdthirst kinktober list #prompt fill #collaboration #vistri #astarion #balders gate 3 #full fic #astarion x tav #to belong fic #BrishFics #fluff #smut #lemon #bg3 spoilers

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hoarding-niffler · 1 year

Text

Not-friends

This has been a request where I was asked to combine the prompts “Okay, maybe I have a crush on you! So what?” and "What could you possibly be this stressed about?” in a oneshot for Sebastian and my OC Faye.

I still need to learn how to write both Ominis and Sebastian, so I hope I didn’t butcher them too much. But I had lots of fun, loved to put my OC in there and am eager to practice the boys some more.

I hope you enjoy!

Read on Ao3

Ominis’ fingers glide across the embossed printing of his Advanced Potions book, trying to understand and internalise what he’s reading about Veritaserum and how it’s properly brewed, when Sebastian’s voice gives him pause.

“I think I’m ready.”

Ominis nods despite not knowing if his friend will even see his reaction, closes the book, and reaches for his wand.

“No, wait. Just one more minute… then I’m ready.”

Ominis sighs and rolls his eyes—a gesture learned despite never having seen someone else do it—whilst falling back down onto his bed. He decides not to pick up his book again; even he has to admit that today calls for celebration, not excessive study time. He doubts that he could learn anything even if he tried, thanks to Sebastian positively pacing from one end of the room to the other, muttering under his breath just loud enough to disrupt his thoughts. He doesn’t need the gift of sight to know that his friend is scurrying about like a frightened mooncalf, oozing tension with every step.

Ominis puts his hands behind his head, careful not to rub off the pomade keeping every single hair in place and listens in on Sebastian’s mumbling.

“This should do it… oh, no, this won’t work. Damn. Where is my…? Ah, there. Green? Black? Or maybe silver!”

“Dear boy, you look marvellous! Dashing. Nothing less than dapper!”

Ominis lifts an eyebrow. Despite never using them, he knows that each dormitory is furnished with a full-length mirror with an enchanted Gargoyle’s head on top. Slytherin’s mirrors tend to be quite blasé if not downright condescending whenever someone steps in front of them, so hearing the light voice excessively compliment his friend comes as a surprise. Sebastian must’ve really gone all out tonight.

“Oh, what do you know, you’re an antique piece of rubbish at best!”

He also seems entirely unimpressed.

The mirror gasps, retorting with a flippant ‘I say!’ before falling quiet once more.

Sebastian continues to fill the silence with his quick steps across the various rugs, but Ominis has had enough. He sits up with a swift movement, his hands checking if his hair needs a bit more Sleakeazy’s before finally lifting up his wand. He walks over to his friend with practiced steps and leans against his wardrobe, effectively stopping Sebastian from rearranging his outfit for the umpteenth time today.

“Sebastian, what could you possibly be this stressed about? At this pace the Yule Ball will be over before we even get there. Stop worrying.”

Sebastian lets out a huff but seems to stop pacing.

“Easy for you to say with your perfectly coiffed hair and flawless complexion!”

Ominis sputters. Since when did Sebastian notice these things? And since when does he sound so… petulant. He knows his friend to be stubborn to a fault, but this is something else. He furrows his brow, resigning himself to make the decision for the both of them.

“You are ready. Let’s go.”

Without waiting for Sebastian to either agree or disagree—confident his friend would vehemently deny his assessment—Ominis points his wand away from him, reaches for Sebastian’s overpriced dress robes and guides them out of their dormitory towards the Great Hall.

Sometimes Sebastian wonders if Ominis’ trust in him is misplaced. It’s not long after they started going up the moving stairs that his friend’s hand loosens its death grip on his robes, convinced that Sebastian will dutifully follow him. While he’d be flattered in any other circumstance, it now takes everything in him not to double back to their room and lock the door. Who wants to visit the poxy Yule Ball anyway? If he wanted to attend, Sebastian would’ve chosen his absolute best dress robes, his current ensemble is second-rate at best. He would’ve spent not one, but three hours in front of the mirror, trying to tame the abomination that most call hair—or whatever sentient being decided to grow on top of his head. No, he did not look forward to the Yule Ball, and he certainly did not make an effort to convince people otherwise!

The first few times Sebastian trips over his own feet Ominis doesn’t react, but after the fifth time he suddenly stops and turns on his heel, nearly throwing him off balance and back down the staircase. Not that he’d mind too much at this point…

“Sebastian.”

“What?” Wait, was that his own voice? Why did he sound so out of breath? Must be these endless steps!

“What’s wrong?”

Sebastian stares at his friend, not sure how to respond. He balls his fists and…Merlin, why are his palms clammy? What is it with this castle and the sudden humidity? His skin is itching as well, must be these low-budget robes he spent a year saving up for.

Realising that the silence between them is stretching into awkward territory, Sebastian clears his throat, shrugs, and starts to move past his friend, further climbing towards his demise. Ominis follows him closely.

“There is nothing wrong. Stop worrying! The robes are just a bit too long, I’m not used to—”

“They are not, Sebastian. You told me how you had them custom-made. They fit you perfectly.”

Sometimes he hates Ominis for being such a good listener.

Finally reaching the corridor towards the Great Hall, Sebastian lets out a heavy sigh and leans against one of the stone walls. He presses his palms against the cool slate, hoping to give his overheating body some relief.

He knows Ominis can’t see him. He’s aware there’s barely anyone around anymore—most students have already gathered in the hall—but he still needs to close his eyes to say what’s on his mind.

“It’s—it’s Faye,” he finally says.

“Did something happen?”

Ominis sounds surprised, even worried, something that would warm a certain spot inside Sebastian’s chest if his mind wasn’t occupied with this damn Yule Ball and its… implications.

“No! I mean, yes?” Sebastian presses his now cool hands against his eyes, groaning into his palms, “I—I saw her earlier! Ominis, she was wearing a dress!”

“…And?”

How can his friend sound so unimpressed? Doesn’t he realise how serious this is?!

“And she’s a girl!”

He can hear Ominis’ hand slap his forehead with remarkable velocity.

“Your perceptiveness would bring Salazar to his knees, Sebastian. Why is that a problem?”

Sebastian’s hands instinctively find his hair—it couldn’t look much worse anyway—and start to rake through them.

“Because I can’t ignore it anymore! She, she is my—our—friend. She was always our buddy. One of us. We fought Ashwinders together! And now she’s wearing a dress and looks pretty in it, she’s probably already waiting and what if this,” his hands wave erratically up and down his body, not that Ominis could see, “is not enough?”

He stares at his blond friend, waiting for a reaction but all he gets is a hearty chuckle.

“How can you laugh at my—at my despair?!”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” Ominis scoffs and steps towards him, slowly putting a hand on his shoulder and gives it an affirming squeeze.

“She did ask you to go with her to the Yule Ball, did she not?”

He gives a half-hearted shrug but hums in agreement.

“She didn’t ask you while you looked all ‘dashing and dapper’. She asked you while you looked how you always do. It will be fine. She likes you.”

Sebastian looks at his friend, searching for any insincerity but finding none. He takes a deep breath, willing his body to lose some of its tension.

“But what if she doesn’t like me enough and only asked me to go as friends?”

“I didn’t.”

Ominis yelps and Sebastian is sure his heart just stopped beating. Faye—smart, beautiful, conveniently quiet Faye—is standing behind them, an odd look on her face he’s never seen before. He can feel his cheeks heating up in embarrassment and his hands leave his hair only to scratch at the back of his neck.

It takes him a distressing amount of time to clear his dry throat and address her.

“How…how much did you hear?”

She cocks her head to the side, a shy smile spreading her lips. Wait, are they glistening? Salazar, help him.

“Well, I’m finally aware that I’m a girl. So, thanks for that.”

Ominis snorts—snorts! —as he lets go of Sebastian and lifts his wand to guide him the rest of the way to the Great Hall. Sebastian’s shoulders slump in defeat.

“I really put my foot in it, huh?”

Faye steps closer, smiling up at him. One of her hands reaches out, smoothing down his hair and adjusting his bowtie. His eyes follow her movements with interest until she speaks.

“Both, I’d say.”

He bites his lip, looking anywhere but her face.

“It’s just, I—”

Something is bubbling up inside of him. This itching, cloying feeling he’s had ever since fifth year. Ever since they fought their first Troll together. Something heavy coils in his stomach, his heart pounds like it wants to break out of his chest and before he can stop himself, he steps closer and practically barks at her, “I—maybe I DO have a crush on you! So what?! That’s no reason to make fun of—”

“I’m glad.”

It takes but two words to leave him speechless. Helpless.

His eyebrows lift as he looks down at her, and notices how her cheeks start to redden. Faye’s fingers, now jittery and—dare he say it? —shaky, slide up towards his elbow to eventually link her arm with his and slowly pull him along. Her hair falls into her face as they walk and if he didn’t know any better, he’d say she was trying to hide from him. Her normally clear voice sounds meek. The penny has dropped.

“I didn’t ask you to the Yule Ball as a friend.”

Sebastian is convinced that her dress, albeit pretty and flattering, can’t possibly be that interesting to warrant her staring at it continuously.

“More as a…not-friend.”

Multiple pennies.

“Huh.”

“I-is that okay?”

Sebastian takes in a deep breath to steady himself, before nodding.

“…It is.”

As soon as the words left his mouth Faye presses her face into his upper arm and he can feel the heat of her blush permeate his robes. A smile, soft and honest, something Sebastian rarely shows anyone, tugs at his lips and his arm pulls her just a little bit closer. Her dress rustles softly and the little sparkling stones woven into the fabric glitter with each step as they make their way towards the Great Hall, ready for the Yule Ball, ready to dance the night away as not-friends.

#my writing #my screenshots #my OCs #Sebastian Sallow #Ominis Gaunt #Faye Laurel #hogwarts legacy #yule ball #triwizard tournament #AU

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toony-fanfics · 2 months

Text

Goodmorning, Dear! 🧇

~🌹~

Oneshot

Pairing: Alastor x Atlas (OC)

Word count: 881

Summary: just atlas waking up to breakfast for once!

Warnings: none!

~🌹~

The streets of Hell were never really known for being “relaxing” or “calm”. There were almost always screams, fights, music, anything you could think of. Hell never got less overwhelming, one just got used to everything after a while. You’re stuck there for all of eternity, after all. It’s something you have to get used to. However, there were places and times where it was bearable. Specifically, early morning at the Hazbin Hotel.

Usually Atlas had been the one to wake up first. After all, he was the hotel’s chef. Guests depended on him to provide sustenance. Granted, there weren’t many guests, but the staff also needed food in them to go about their day. Plus, the more time Atlas got to spend in the kitchen, the better. It was a safe place for him, one he didn’t share with many.

Except one, of course.

Though, this morning, Atlas woke up to the sound of Heartaches by Al Bowlly echoing throughout the hotel. Someone else was up, and by the music, Atlas could guess pretty well that the one awake was none other than Alastor. After all, Atlas didn’t know anyone else who listened to old music like this.

Sitting up in his bed, Atlas rubbed the sleep out of his eyes before stretching. Glancing over to the mirror that hung up on the wall, the blue goat got out of his bed and walked towards the closet. Tilting his head slightly, he picked out a white long-sleeved button-up, along with a pair of blue jeans and suspenders. A bit out of the ordinary, since he usually wore his blue sweatervest, but he’d subconsciously wanted to look at least decent for Alastor. Another Al Bowlly song starts playing, and it wasn’t long before Atlas started humming along with it. Taking a hairbrush, the goat began fixing his hair a bit, not particularly enjoying the bed-head look.

The goat takes a step back and observes himself in the mirror. With a smile, he sticks his thumbs under his suspenders and rocks back and forth for a moment, nodding before grabbing a dark blue tie. Draping it over his neck, he got distracted by the multitude of shoes he had. With a hum, he finally slips on his black oxford shoes, and steps out of his room with a stretch. The music gets noticeably louder as Atlas heads down the hall.

Atlas also picked up a smell from the kitchen. It was food, that much he knew. None he’s ever made or tasted before, though, since the smell was unrecognizable. Stepping into the kitchen with a head tilt, the blue demon spots Alastor at the stove, an apron tied around his waist. Another Al Bowlly song begins to play, and Alastor hums along, the soft, melodic tone of his voice wrapping its way around Atlas like a warm hug on a cold autumn day. With a smile, the demon made his way over and hugged Alastor from behind. The radio demon tensed up momentarily, softening milliseconds after realizing who the culprit was.

“And a very good morning to you as well, my dear. I trust that you slept alright?” Alastor asks, glancing down at Atlas. The goat shrugs, leaning into the taller demon.

“I slept in. ‘m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

“Nonsense, cher! No trouble at all, I assure you. You needed the rest. After all, a fine chef such as yourself needs to be at his best!” Alastor reassured.

Atlas smiles a bit before his eyes flicked down to the skillet on the stove. He’d recognized pecans in there, though wasn’t sure why. “Whatcha makin’?” He asked. Alastor’s grin seems to grow in excitement, as if he’d been waiting for Atlas to ask him that.

“Why, I’m making something my mother used to make me for breakfast when I was a boy! Sweet potato-pecan waffles. They’re absolutely delightful, my dear. You’ll love them!” He spoke, swaying along with the next song that played. Atlas chuckled a little bit.

“Don’t think I’ve ever heard of those. Maybe I should try makin’ ‘em at some point.” The smaller demon mumbled, his mind drifting off. What other foods did Alastor like? Maybe if he figured out a way to subtly ask, he could make them for the taller demon, or-

Atlas was snapped out of his thoughts when Alastor began tying the untied tie around his neck. A small laugh escaped the blue demon as he realized he’d completely forgotten to tie it.

“My dear, I have to say… I find this little fad you’re trying to start quite humorous!” The radio demon spoke, laughing as he finished the job, patting Atlas’ chest. “Tell me, mon cher, what’s the occasion? You’re dressed quite differently this morning.”

“No occasion. Jus’ wanted to switch it up a lil’ bit. Y’like it?” The goat asks, sticking his thumbs through his suspenders just as he’d done in his room. Alastor tilts his head while staring down at Atlas, a look of adoration forming in his eyes.

“It’s wonderful, darling. Quite becoming on you, I must say! Now! How about some waffles?”

Atlas smiles and nods, and with that, the two sit down at the counter, waffles in front of them as they spent the morning talking and laughing.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel oc #fanfic #alastor

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llliiinnnaaa · 5 months

Text

Reprisal | Chapter Three

coriolanus snow x gaul oc

Summary: Ten years after the Tenth Hunger Games, Coriolanus Snow is under Dr. Volumnia Gaul’s wing as a Gamemaker alongside her niece. Unbeknownst to either of them, they’re both being prepared for a much greater task.

Warning: This story will contain explicit violence against adults and children alike (I mean, it’s Dr. Gaul AND Snow) as well as explicit language, and sexual situations.

***This fic is in no way, shape, or form, me endorsing or co-signing the horrific shit Snow does, nor am I trying to romanticize it. Also, apathy and will be the main driving force of any remnants of a relationship between my OC and Snow’s character. So if you’re interested in something very romantic and fluffy…it’s not gonna be this.

She’s home by nine o’clock, quietly tip-toeing in after realizing her husband had already gone to bed.

Approaching the dinner table, she lifts the silver lid of the plate cover, seeing steak, some asparagus and a baked potato before quietly replacing it…

It’s when the lamp in the formal living room snaps on, capturing her attention as it illuminates the face of her father that she nearly jumps out of her own skin — her mind already riddled with enough guilt tonight.

“Ah!” A sharp but short scream leaves her throat.

Her hand rests over her pounding heart, taking in deep breaths as he offers a warm smile. “I forgot that you and mom were coming to stay for a little while.” She admits before it hits her fully.

Oh, shit.

The house isn’t ready, the groceries, her mental capacity to handle her parents…

“We just got in about an hour ago — Dyess fed us, don’t you worry.” He keeps the smile on his face despite his daughter’s appearance.

Exhausted and clearly scatter-brained.

The same as she was when he and her mother visited for the night a little over a month ago.

She had crept in well into the middle of the night, heels in hand, skirt on backwards, makeup smeared, hair a mess…exhausted.

He had kept his mouth shut, then, and he does so, now.

“I’m gonna go to bed. I’ve got a big day tomorrow.” She informs him quietly, kissing his cheek.

“Goodnight, dear.” He replies sweetly, watching her disappear behind her bedroom door, the both of them huffing out heavy breaths once they're out of sight of each other.

"Everything alright?" Dyess asks, still awake, book in hand as Tawny steps to him, crawling onto the bed and on top of him to lay on his chest. “Did Snow go easy on you?” He adds, not taking his eyes off his book.

She wants to scoff at the question.

Snow never goes easy on her — or anybody for that matter. In any aspect of anything.

“I still have a job. He told me we’d go over it tomorrow.” She mumbles, closing her eyes, deciding to leave off the part where he had her backed against the door, leaving her with no option but to dig her nails into her palms and bite her teeth into her tongue to keep from getting on her knees, falling at his feet.

“What about your aunt?” He asks it cautiously, eyeing her reaction.

“She just sat there and let me ramble on. She didn’t say a word to me until I went to go and she told me we’d discuss it in depth tomorrow.”

“So…meet with Snow tomorrow, and your Aunt?” Dyess asks, terrified at the agenda himself.

But he knows Tawny will face it with a stiff lip.

She’d always been the better of the two of them to pull up her bootstraps and just push through.

“They’re going to rake me over coals, Dy.” She whispers, dreading the lectures.

“They’re like cats that bat around a mouse until it dies but never actually eat it. They’re bored and need someone to pick on. This time it’s you.” He mumbles, sighing out as he turns a page. “It’ll pass once they get bored again and move on to a new victim.”

“I don’t know what to do. It’s easy to fix things when you know what needs to be fixed. All the problems start from nothing, it seems.” She thinks it aloud. “I started doing this because I believe in the Games. I believe they’re good, and justified. Everything I’ve done has been for our girl, but this last year…especially these last months…”

Trailing off, she swallows the lump in her throat.

“You have two of our best Gamemakers on your side. If they weren’t, you’d be gone already. Just take a breath, think of tomorrow as a new day, and let it be for tonight so you can get some rest. Alright?”

She nods, accepting his lips pressing to hers but she recoils when his hand finds the small of her back and tries to drift lower.

“Not tonight, Dy, I’m really stressed.” She sighs out, earning a chuckled out, “That’s what I’m trying to help relieve.”

“I don’t need anything relieved right now with my mother in the next room.” She grasps his face in her hands. “Okay?”

He nods, smiling gently at her.

“Okay.” He nods, to which she kisses him one quick time before heading to the bathroom to shower, and go to bed.

The next morning, Dr. Gaul and Coriolanus stare at the empty syringe that’s perched in a labeled, air tight bag, staring right back at them.

“I want to keep this between us for now, Mr. Snow. I’ve ordered a discreet investigation into her other failed cases.” She says, her voice shaky with anger and irritation.

“…It was in his office?” Snow asks, lowly, studying the evidence before him.

“In the trash. The DNA on the needle matches that of the mutt Tawny was working on just yesterday.”

“Liver failure due to too much iron.” He echoes what Dr. Crane’s students had told him the day before.

“Implemented by her own husband, apparently.” Dr. Gaul mutters. “More than likely not the first of many of her cases he has sabotaged.” She adds.

“Have you devised his punishment?” Snow hisses, anger cradling his words as blue eyes nearly puncture the evidence itself from how hard he’s glaring at it.

Volumnia doesn’t speak a word.

He slowly looks at her, letting out a breath.

“Dr. Gaul.” He says in a grit, his mind running wild with his own vivid reprisal.

At first it’s the basic instinct to punch him until his face caves in, yelling, screaming, cursing…

Then it turns to more appropriate manors of revenge.

Crane didn’t outright slaughter mutts or burn down any plants that his wife had tried her hardest to create and maintain, no.

He was more discreet, more contrived, patient, planned…sneaky.

His mind immediately drifts to Casca Highbottom, what feels like eons ago, knowing he carefully took his last breath by Snow’s will.

No.

A bloody and obvious murder wouldn’t be in the cards for Dyess Crane.

Coriolanus has to play this just as Dyess is.

It wasn’t that he was offended for Tawny, had it occurred to anyone else he’d still be infuriated if it possibly affected the Games in any way.

They had deadlines, statistics, test runs, meetings, a certain amount of hours in the lab that needed to be met weekly, grievous schedules and agendas to make sure all went perfectly and keep everyone on their toes and try to maintain impeccable results.

Scientists and Gamemakers alike were both on the same team. Their goal is to achieve and deliver a more entertaining and interesting Hunger Games than the year before.

And someone on the team is fucking it up for everyone — to what end, exactly?

He envies his wife?

He scorns her for being the same intelligent woman he married?

It almost makes him scoff.

Of course. He’d known this. The evidence had practically been there to anyone to see if they looked a smidgen closer at the Crane’s relationship.

Tawny had confessed it in the aftermath of one of their times together.

Dyess Crane didn’t marry her because he was in love with her or her intelligence.

Coriolanus furrows his brows, rolling his jaw.

“ We got married because I got pregnant ,” She had whispered it to him, her delicate fingers fumbling with the gold wedding band on his left hand.

Snow – in the lusty haze that followed his satisfaction that couldn’t quite be quenched when it came to her – had nearly admitted that his own marriage to Livia was out of convenience.

He enjoyed her compliance, and beauty, and her ability to ask as little questions as possible. She was smart enough to have good conversations with, they shared the same opinions of Panem and how it should be.

They were compatible, so he proposed. They married a year later, and were still happy enough eight years later.

The way Tawny had spoken of her marriage, she’d been trapped for fourteen years.

Fourteen years married to Dyess Crane.

He wrinkles his nose at the thought.

He would’ve already taken a deep dive off of a short roof if he were her.

He never felt trapped with Livia, nor did he ever feel the need to do any extra-marital activities until the last few months of working directly with Tawny.

He feels tempted to inform her that not only did her husband marry her solely because she got pregnant, but he married her with the hopes of her staying at home and raising their child while he got to run with the big dogs.

“I want him dead.” He speaks it clearly, casually.

It’s not him asking permission.

It’s him informing Dr. Gaul that Dyess Crane will die.

“Wait for the investigation to conclude, and then we begin our game.” She says to him dreadfully, the promise of demise in her tone pulls his eyes to hers. “Until then, this debacle stays between us. Not a word of this will be mentioned during your time with her this morning.”

“You want me to lie to her?”

He’d never had to before, and he liked to think she hadn’t lied to him, either.

But omitting the truth…that line was thin, but not too thin for him to walk on.

“She is going to want to retrace her steps, as she always does with her failed cases. She’ll order an autopsy and will receive the results and then eventually will put together that someone sabotaged her. She’ll be so consumed with fury that she’ll act irrationally — unbecoming — of someone in our profession.” Dr. Gaul says it as if knowing full-well how her niece will react.

“I want you to keep her dumb to the idea that the man she loves is trying to make ruin of her career…of her future as a part of my Games.”

I want you to keep her dumb…

Keep her distracted .

His mind roams at the thought.

It sounds like an order, one he silently wonders has creative liberties as he gets a brief picture of a few ways to keep Dyess out of Tawny’s mind completely.

Go about things as usual .

He merely nods, taking in a breath as he steps from her lab.

An hour later, Snow waits impatiently for Dr. Crane, seated at his desk glancing over the past five of her failed cases — excluding the most recent.

He checks his watch, huffing out an irritated breath.

She’s nearly fifteen minutes late.

Down the hall, Tawny and Dyess slowly step toward Coriolanus’ office.

“…I don’t want those people in my apartment, Dy.” She mutters.

“Tawny, be nice, now.”

“They’re district.”

“They’ve wisened up and chose correctly.” He replies, optimistically.

Strabo Plinth — an inherited friend of Dyess whose dead rebel son was in the same class as Dyess’ dead sister who might as well have been killed by a rebel — and his wife had been invited to dinner by Dyess and Tawny’s parents…who also adored the Plinths and the ground they walked on.

“And that’s why their son was hanged for conspiring with rebels out in 12?” She remarks. “Because they’d wisened up?”

He sighs out, looking around to make sure no one was paying attention to them before he stops and pulls her aside.

“I know you’re still angry. I know you’re still resentful, and you have every right to be. But the Plinths have been nothing but good to all of us. They can’t help that they weren’t born Capitol.” He says quietly. “Your parents enjoy their company, I enjoy their company, and they haven’t gotten the opportunity to come to our house in the fourteen years we’ve been married. It’s long overdue.” He adds, raising his brows. “I thought you’d be happy to have more people to celebrate fourteen years together with.”

She exhales, rubbing her full lips together and he awaits her answer.

Ah, yes, ringing in their fourteenth anniversary with the Plinths and her parents.

There’s no other way she’d rather celebrate.

“Okay.” She relents, mumbling it to his amusement.

“Okay?”

Nodding, she offers a little smile as he kisses her chastely, glancing over her shoulder when they pull from one another.

She’s about to turn to go when he stops her, bringing his lips back down to hers.

“Dy, I’m already late.” She giggles but doesn’t push him away or deny him, allowing him one last kiss before they’re both breaking it.

“Good luck.” He says to her with a wide grin that he wears as the blue-eyed blonde approaches them.“Good morning, Mr. Snow.” Dyess states, not looking away from his wife until she turns to see Coriolanus standing a few feet away, platinum curls styled perfectly, reflecting the light above their heads.

“ Dyess .” Snow says cordially, digging his hands into his pockets to keep from balling them up into fists as his gaze shifts to Tawny. “Dr. Crane, you’re late.”

“We’ve had an eventful morning.” Dyess interrupts, Tawny’s face blushing slightly at his hint of utilizing the fact her parents had gotten up early and gone out for breakfast, leaving the two of them at home alone.

“Well, no sense in wasting more of my time.” Snow blatantly blurts, stepping aside and motioning to the door of his office as he glares at Tawny despite maintaining his polite expression.

“I’ll see you later, Sweetie.” Dyess tells her and she nods, walking toward Snow’s office.

They don’t bother further entertaining the silent dick measuring contest that’s happening between them, the two men turning their opposite ways and going on.

“I’m sorry.” She says to Snow when he gets in his office, shutting the door behind him.

“You do realize I have every right to dismiss you and report you for tardiness, right?” He threatens in a sharp hiss.

“I didn’t realize what time it was.” She honestly states.

“You can’t get fucked and read a clock at the same time?” He doesn’t even try to disguise the root of his anger as he walks to his desk.

“Are you angry because I’m late, or because I was getting fucked?” She gives it right back to him, using the same degrading tone, her irritation matching his perfectly.

“I’m angry that I’m trying to help you, and instead of showing up on time, you screw around — quite literally — and take advantage of my grace.” He speaks as if she’s a clueless child.

“If you want to dismiss me and write me up, you can.” She assures him. “I didn’t mean to waste your time. Everyone in Panem knows that your time — above everyone else’s — is so precious after all.”

He grinds his teeth.

“It is, actually. Quite precious.” He raises his brows. “But you know that, of course.” Referring to something else entirely, and she takes in a deep breath, peeling her eyes from his.

She has to.

“Are we going to go over my cases?” She changes the subject, shifting in her seat, trying to keep her breaths under control as he opens his desk drawer and pulls the few files from it, tossing them to the desk without a word.

Sitting with a sigh and opening the first file, he thumbs through it and taps his fingertips on the heavy wood under the folder.

His blue eyes narrow as he reads over her notes, his mouth pulling downward when he realizes it’s one Dr. Gaul even assisted her on.

As far as he can tell, it should have worked out…

Assuming this is one of the ones Dr. Gaul referred to being a part of the investigation they've opened, he keeps his mouth shut on it and closes it, picking up the next one.

“…Is something wrong?” Tawny asks.

He doesn’t answer, scanning this one briefly before huffing out in frustration.

Fuck, Crane. You slick bastard , he thinks to himself, closing this one and opening yet another.

He wonders how far back this sabotage has been occurring.

By the time he has to close this one without offering a word to her about it, she’s marching toward him and reaches for the small pile he’s working through, only for him to grab her wrist, stopping her.

“None of it’s even good enough for you to want to discuss it with me?” She questions.

“None of it's worth discussing when there’s nothing to discuss.” He replies. “It looks fine so far.”

“If any of it was fine they wouldn’t have failed.” She retorts.

His eyes go back to the page before him, ignoring her words and releasing her wrist.

After another moment, he stands, tapping his finger on one line of writing in particular.

“Come here.” He says to her.

She eagerly goes, wanting to see his finding, hoping it will help to answer the root of some of her confusion and frustration.

He steps aside for her to read over the line, leaning over his desk as she does so, her hand taking his to move it from her way.

Her dark brows furrow as she reads the sentence, then re-reads it again.

He sees the struggle on her face to make sense of what exactly he’s talking about, until he lowers his lips closer to her ear and quietly, flatly states, “You used the wrong tense of ‘too’.”

Brown eyes meet blue, noses almost brushing together when she looks at him, over her shoulder, infuriated with his behavior.

Petty and dismissive.

She knows he doesn’t care for her, nor love her, nor does he truly care about what her husband does with her or to her, but he seems curious enough when he nearly whispers out, “Does he know?”

Does he know?

Does he know I’ve had you in the car he bought you? In his house? In his bed?

No. Dyess didn’t know.

Her head shakes slightly, plush lips parting to breathe somewhat easier but all that does is grasp ahold of his gaze.

“No.” She has to speak to break his attention from her lips. “Does Livia know?”

“No.”

He thinks of his sweet wife, always gentle and easy with him, so he tried to be just that with her as well.

It would be too obvious if he snapped and treated her as roughly and ravenously he treated Tawny in their time together.

“Would you like to come eat dinner with my family and the Plinths this Saturday night?”

“That sounds like torture.” He doesn’t hold back, needing a drink even imagining them all around a table.

His make-shift parental figures, his mistress, his wife, his enemy, and his mistress’ parents.

Then he thinks of Dyess’ face when he answers the door, seeing Livia and Coriolanus.

He’d pay good money to see Crane try to mask that rage.

“I’m sure it will be for everyone involved…but I’m going to need a buffer between the Plinths and my parents and Dyess is only so good for so long. You can invite your cousin since she helped her old boss with my wedding gown. Having a few other people there to hold their attention will help me not want to bang my head on the table.”

He thinks about it, looking back down to the paper they’re standing over.

“Philo will drop off a new case for you to work on this afternoon. Your last one before the Games.” Snow moves from her, black eyelashes resting against her cheek from her briefly closed eyes. “Make sure it’s somewhat successful. Meeting dismissed.” He adds and she gives an acknowledging nod of her head before she moves from him, too, back to the other side of his desk to head to the door. “What time is dinner?” He asks as she reaches for the door knob, stopping in her tracks, a little hint of a smile tugging at her lips.

“Eight o’clock.” She replies softly.

“I might be there. It depends on how generous I’m feeling.” He admits, seeing her eyes roll before she opens the door. “Oh, Dr. Crane?”

“Yes, Mr. Snow?” She asks, raising her brows.

“Don’t say a word of your new assignment to anyone. Not your students. Not even your husband. It’s imperative it stays between you, myself, and Dr. Gaul.”

He sees the way her brows twitch in slight confusion, her mouth pulling somewhat downward, the many questions swirling in her eyes, but all she says is, “I understand, Mr. Snow. I won’t tell a soul. I promise,” before she leaves his office, shutting the door behind her.

I won’t tell a soul. I promise.

The same words she’d whispered when they swore their affair to secrecy before agreeing to stop.

He looks down at the folders, each one perfectly planned out, notes dated exactly, steps drawn out…and not a success in the bunch.

His mind drifts back to that syringe Gaul showed him.

Dyess could be charged with destroying Capitol property, malpractice, misconduct…Gaul would ensure he suffers more than anything and if by some abnormal chance she didn’t, Snow would.

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x oc #coriolanus snow x gaul oc #coryo snow #the ballad of songbirds and snakes

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practically-an-x-man · 6 months

Text

Sick Day

For @can-of-pringles, I'm so sorry you haven't been feeling well but hopefully this will make it a little better?

Pairing: Arith x Iriel (not my OCs)

Word count: 1,138

____

Arith trudged into the kitchen, his eyes half-lidded and steps dragging as he made his way up to the counter. Fixing his coffee was easy enough, though his fingers felt heavy and uncooperative.

"Are you feeling alright?" Iriel asked, already seated at the table. Arith ran a hand over his face, trying to coax his brain to spit out a thought or two.

"Hm. No. Think I'm coming down with something." he mumbled, taking a long drag of his coffee. Iriel made the best coffee, but today it hardly tasted like anything. At least the steam helped clear out the congestion settling into his sinuses - for the moment.

"You can't get sick, you're a demon." Iriel pointed out.

"Would you tell that to my corporeal form, then?" he huffed, "I'm sick, angel. You think I'm making it up?"

"Well... no," she agreed, "But I think it could be psychosomatic."

"Please. Infernal brains are too powerful to be swayed by mortal psychology."

"Tell that to the Slap-Chop in the cabinet."

"The infomercial was very convincing!"

Iriel laughed, high and bright and succeeding in drawing a brief smile from him. She shook her head, then waved him over to the table.

"C'mere, let me see if you have a fever."

Arith obliged, setting his mug down and crossing the room to join her. As soon as he sat down, she placed one hand on his shoulder and pressed the other to his forehead. Her lips pulled into a faint frown. Even worried, her golden eyes seemed to capture the sunlight trickling in from the window.

"You definitely feel warmer than usual." she decided, her hand sliding down to cup his face before falling away. "Maybe you should take it easy for a while."

"That's what I've been saying." Arith grumbled, wincing at the gleam of midmorning sunshine. He'd woken up with a headache, and the light was only making it worse. His bones ached. Sick or not, he was sure he'd be getting nothing done today.

"I think I'm gonna go back to bed." he muttered, ducking away from the sunlight. He'd been compared to a vampire probably hundreds of times in his immortal life, but it had never felt more accurate. If he stayed out here too long, he thought he might simply crumble into dust.

"Alright," Iriel said, "I hope you feel better."

"Thanks, dear."

He wandered back into the bedroom and all but collapsed onto the bed. With his body aching and his sinuses clogged with congestion, he could hardly find a comfortable position. But finally his weariness dragged him under, and he drifted off.

____

Some number of hours later, Iriel's soft voice pulled him back up to wakefulness.

"Oh, that can't be comfortable."

Arith groaned, shifting upwards and blinking the grit out of his eyes. Somehow, he'd managed to fall asleep on his stomach, with one leg twisted over the other and his head propped up on his arms. When he shifted, the muscles all along his ribs twinged from the awkward position. His right hand had fallen asleep.

He flipped himself around, rubbing his eyes and propping his body up against the headboard, and found Iriel standing by the side of the bed.

"It's nearly two. I made soup." she said, sliding onto the bed beside him. There was a cup of broth in her hands, which she handed off to him as soon as he had a hand free. He took a sip, inhaling a lungful of aromatic steam as he did.

"Mm. Thank you." Arith mumbled, managing another sip. He wasn't sure it would help much, but he hadn't eaten anything all day and knew he had to get something into his system. Besides, it was good soup.

"Have you tried miracling it away?" Iriel asked, rubbing her palm in slow circles over his back as he worked his way through the cup of broth. Arith found himself leaning into the touch, sighing faintly.

"Don't know that I have the strength for a miracle right now."

"I'd offer to help, but I think divine magic would only make you feel worse." she said, sounding a little forlorn about it. She never liked seeing him hurt, and he supposed this fell along the same vein.

"You're still helping." he insisted, "The soup helps. I'm really glad you're here."

She hummed a little at that, and leaned in to kiss his forehead. Arith smiled.

"Do you need anything else?" Iriel asked.

"I don't think so," he said, then reconsidered, "Well, maybe some water?"

With just a snap of her fingers, Iriel had a glass of cool water in her hand. She handed it to him, taking the empty bowl of soup as she did. The broth had settled his stomach a bit, and Arith downed the water quickly. Already he was starting to feel a little better, thanks to the extra sleep and a little food.

When he'd finished with the water, Iriel took his glass and disappeared into the kitchen. She wasn't gone long.

As soon as she returned, she reached out and brushed his hair away from his forehead. Her fingers were gentle as she once again checked his temperature.

"You still feel warm."

"Not much else to do but wait it out." Arith said, "Sleep it off."

"Well, I'll wait it out with you." she replied, slipping back into the bed beside him and tucking her head down onto his shoulder. Arith didn't move away, but he didn't move closer as he usually would.

"Nah, Bambi, I'll get you sick too. I'm alright."

"Ah, I'll miracle it away before it sets in." Iriel argued. It was enough to make Arith relent - maybe not his wisest decision, but after thousands of years spent at a distance, he'd take as many of these little moments as he could get. So he pulled his arm around her and rested his chin against the top of her head.

This time, it didn't take much for him to fall asleep.

____

The rest of the day passed by in much of the same. He slept as much as he could manage, and spent the rest of his time pushing fluids and eating a few spare meals. After a few hours, he felt well enough to move from the bedroom to the couch, though he still found himself dozing.

But it paid off. By supper, he felt well enough to manage a trip out, and he shared a lovely meal with his angel. His day, as poorly as it started, grew much better in the later hours.

Just as he suspected, Iriel woke up sick the next day. Arith spared only four seconds to tell her "I told you so". The remaining twenty-three hours, fifty-nine minutes, and fifty-six seconds were spent utterly doting on her.

But what else was new?

#my friends!!!#my writing #not my ocs #arith #iriel #arith x iriel #fanfic #good omens fanfic #good omens fanfiction #good omens ocs

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paintedscales · 5 months

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Can they fall asleep anywhere? Or are do they need an optimum condition to sleep in?

What does a lazy morning consist of?

Does your OC prefer early nights or late mornings?

Here's some for the awesome Nomin! <3

Hiiii, pinxli! Thank you so much for the multiple asks! \ ; w ; / I appreciate it greatly! ♥♥

Warm and Cozy OC Asks

I'm gonna put my answers under a cut so it doesn't stretch others' dashes!

\ o w o /

Can they fall asleep anywhere? Or are do they need an optimum condition to sleep in?

This one feels interesting because Nomin is fairly nomadic for a large portion of her life! It's only when we're talking about her life on the Island Sanctuary that she largely considers that a stationary home for her and her family. So...the assumption would be that she could fall asleep virtually anywhere, but when I think about it, I don't think she can!

Nomin dislikes the cold, so if it's cold, she can't really sleep that well. Nights in Ishgard, Coerthas, Dravania, Sharlayan, and Garlemald were very tough for her! Same for venturing through Eureka. She'll need prep and time to get warm before she feels comfortable enough to sleep. Generally this means decent fires or fire shards / crystals that can radiate warmth or imbue warmth.

Other than that, if it's temperate and generally pretty agreeable weather, Nomin can fall asleep in a good number of places. Including upon the back of her horse, Mori. So long as she's properly secured upon her saddle or just in general upon his back. She does utilize methods learned from the Dataqi people in how to manage this.

What does a lazy morning consist of?

Hm...a lazy morning for Nomin is definitely just being able to lounge in bed for a good ten to twenty minutes. Taking time to collect her thoughts and get ready for the rest of the day -- having that luxury of doing so. When camping out, sometimes she'll stir and open up the flap of her tent to let in some air to both take it in as well as air out any staleness that might have accumulated over the night.

Staying at an inn or personal room, it's the luxury of having a private bath to soak in. Having the time to take care of her scales more thoroughly with coconut oils, as well as take care of any loosened scales that might be that way because more scales are growing in. It may not sound lazy on the surface, though to Nomin, it does seem trivial than waking up and having to be right back at work in some fashion as the Warrior of Light. You can tell if she hasn't had a chance to care properly for herself if her scales look dull or even disheveled due to not having the time to care for them.

With Estinien in her life, it's just getting to bask with him on a morning he also decides to be lazy since I imagine he sticks pretty diligently to a morning routine and keeping his body and skills sharpened for whatever may come. He's just used to it as something he's done for 20+ years of his life. But sometimes...sometimes a morning rolls by where it's just nice to have the company of your partner and feel love and give love in return.

Does your OC prefer early nights or late mornings?

Definitely depends.

Nomin enjoys stargazing, and in fact, believes the Steppe to have some of the most brilliant transitions from day to night. If she ever asks to share a night of stargazing with you while on the Steppe, it's because she wants to share with you one of the most beautiful sights she holds dear.

Outside of that, however, I believe Nomin more prefers tucking in early at night as opposed to having a late start on her morning. Especially when she becomes a parent, not that she has too much choice in when she's awake and when she's asleep until a certain point in the children's lives, haha.

#questions and answers #user: pinxli #thank you ♥#ffxiv #ffxiv oc #oc: nomin tal kheeriin #cinnamon ship

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cyberaxolotl · 2 years

Text

it’s september you know what that means it’s almost october

that means MONTH OF MACABRE IS SOOOON AND THATS MY FAVORITE TIME OF YEAR FOR MAKING GRIMDARK!!

since i got into the bugsnax fandom right in time for it, and i’ve marinated ideas for quite a while, here’s (just about) every bugsnax character and generally how i’d apply grimdark to them.

it tends to fall into four genres, such being “I need to make them snap,” “I need to put them through horrible things,” “I need to put their loved ones through horrible things” and “oh my sweet dear i’m sorry” so let’s start

warning: gore and horror mention

Filbo:

Falls under “Oh my sweet dear” and “I need to make them snap” of which, I want him to stay like he is in canon but just hold something behind that. I wanna give him a dark secret. Did something horrible happen in his past? Is he cursed by magic or cursed by regret and guilt? Or did he do something horrible and not regret it, so the past is dug up by someone else? Only time will tell what I do to him exactly.

Wambus:

A mix of “I need to make them snap” and “I need to put their loved ones through horrible things.” I am going to make him put his loved ones through horrible things. I am going to make him consciously snap, just, completely break. Break and make a decision that hurts him, hurts others, and hurts his wife. I AM GOING TO MAKE THIS MAN KILL HIS WIFE-

Beffica:

As funny as it’d be to make her snap, I don’t think she’s the type to. No, she falls under “I need to put her through horrible things.” I’m going to grab her and I am going to make someone else destroy her. One day she’s gonna go a little too far on someone and they will hurt her. It will happen. I will make it happen.

Gramble:

“I need to make him snap” and “Oh my sweet dear” for Gramble. But I don’t want him to consciously snap, no, he’s a sleepwalker. He’s going to snap in his dreams, have such vivid dreams of hurting people, and wake up out of bed. He snapped and hurt someone. He’s gonna immediately regret it, but part of him doesn’t, but he WANTS to regret it.

Wiggle:

“I need to put them through horrible things” There are so many horrible things I could put Wiggle through its nuts. A fall from fame that destroys her, snak overindulgence killing her early (bugsnax equivalent of drug overdose,) and involving Gramble puts so much more on the table too. The possibilities are endless with this girl.

Triffany:

“I need to put them through horrible things” and “I need to put their loved ones through horrible things” see Wambus for general idea. But I couldn’t see her as doing anything to anyone else, no, because she doesn’t seem like one to have enough anger held up to really snap. Sure, Cromdo pisses her off sometimes, but not enough for her to want to kill him or anyone else. That’s why I’m gonna put her through, aside from stuff listed under Wambus, stuff like in “The Lottablog Method.” Things out of her control.

Cromdo:

“I need to put them through horrible things” idk i don’t like this fucker and i want him mauled

Snorpy:

“I need to put their loved ones through horrible things” Something Snorpy very clearly likes is having control- He stayed in the woods to have control over who he interacts with, he’s always in control of protection at parties, he likes having a grip on things. But consider, things that, even if he knows about them, he cannot control no matter what.

Chandlo:

“I need to put them through horrible things” Don’t bite off more than you can chew, especially when the repercussions hurt the one you love.

Floofty:

“I need to make them snap” but in the tone of “They WILL kill people.” I have already drawn them gutting Eggabell and they will do that more. And it will hurt Snorpy a lot.

Shelda:

She’s fucking Shelda. One of my possibilities is a sadfic where her wife (OC) gets hurt while she’s at Snaktooth, others are her using religious guidance to manipulate, so. a mix of “I need to put their loved ones through horrible things” and “I need to make them snap.”

Eggabell:

“I need to put them through horrible things” See Floofty for one example. But also, just generally writing a slow descent into misery for her would be fun too.

Lizbert:

as if bugsnax canon didn’t do enough to her… a mix of “I need it put them through horrible things” and “I need to put their loved ones through horrible things”

#bugsnax #filbo fiddlepie #wambus troubleham #beffica winklesnoot #gramble gigglefunny #wiggle wigglebottom #triffany lottablog #cromdo face #snorpy fizzlebean #chandlo funkbun #floofty fizzlebean #shelda woolbag #eggabell batternugget #lizbert megafig

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imaginingmarvelandeverything · 2 years

Text

Chapter 2: Cursed Prophet

Pairing: Morpheus x OC (Cassandra of Troy)

Warnings: mentions of death, alludes to sexual assault (not explicitly mentioned)

Word count: 1450

A/N: Here is chapter 2 of Fated and Forgotten! Writing prophecies is a lot harder than I thought it would be when I grew up reading Percy Jackson. But I hope you like this chapter!!!

Main masterlist

Series masterlist

Ko-Fi

Cass woke with her heart beating against her ribs. The early morning rays of light streamed through the window, the soft drapes swaying in the breeze. But it did nothing to settle the dread in her chest. She had managed to anger another god. She could not be sorry for punishing the soldier in his dreams, knowing he wouldn’t be punished in real life. But she feared Oneiros’ wrath. Apollo’s curse already made her life so much harder than the lives of the people around her. She wasn’t sure she could deal with another curse added on top.

She pushed herself up in bed and brushed her hair over her shoulder. Oneiros would be waiting for her when she fell asleep again. She had power in his realm, more than she should, but she knew she would be no match for him. She stood and walked over to the water basin by the window, using the jug next to it to fill it.

“Oh, my lady, you are already awake.” Agnes, her personal maid, said as she walked in.

“Restless dreams.” Cass smiled softly. “That soldier should not bother you again, but if he does, I ask that you tell me.”

Agnes looked shocked, but quickly regained her composer and nodded. “Thank you, my lady. Your father has requested your presence, it seems your brother has returned from the front lines.” Agnes said as she got to work, pulling out possible dresses and accessories.

Cass splashed water over her face as she thought back to the last time Hector had been home. It had been months, the Achaeans were still trying to attack from the eastern borders, even though Hector’s armies had been keeping them at bay for almost eight years. Her brother’s visit would be a welcome distraction from what was waiting for her in her dreams that evening. And it would be good for her nephew to see his father again.

***

The rest of the family were already gathered when Cass walked into the dining hall, eagerly talking about a boxing match in the main square the following day that all of her brothers would be participating in to celebrate Hector’s recent accomplishments in battle. Hector stood to greet her with a smile, which she returned as he embraced her. She pulled back, intending to greet him, but as she caught his eye she felt the familiar tug of the fates. Her eyes rolled back into her skull and her body went rigid as she tried, and failed, to fight it.

“The forgotten second son will return,

He coverts a queen to his possession.

The city will fall and burn,

In two years, as the season turns.”

Her vision went black and her legs gave out from under her.

***

When Cass started to come back around, she could hear people talking.

“I thought she was getting better.” Hector’s voice said.

“She was.” Her father replied

Hector sighed. “She’s still speaking nonsense. Maybe it would be better for her to move to the temple permanently.”

“We already tried that, it just made the fits of madness worse.” Her mother spoke up.

She felt tears start to burn her eyes as she pushed herself up from where she had been propped up against Hector on the floor. “I am fine. The emotions of having you home overwhelmed me.” She forced a smile she knew none of her family believed as Hector helped her to her feet.

“Sister-”

“Dear brother, I promise you, nothing is out of the ordinary.” She sat down in her usual place at the table and reached forward to grasp some of the fruit. “Now, how was your time away?”

Hector seemed glad for the distraction and immediately started talking about how the front line was holding. But Cass found herself unable to pay attention. Her mind was reeling with the images of Troy burning at the hands of the Greeks and a beautiful blonde woman and a handsome young man with dark brown curls standing under a wedding arch. Her parents rarely talked about Paris; her younger brother had been fated at birth as the destruction of Troy and had been cast out to die. It seemed that he was still alive and the prophecy was to be fulfilled. But no matter how much she pleaded and warned the people around her, they would not believe her. Apollo had made sure of that.

***

When she fell asleep, Cass found herself standing in the same meadow the dream lord had transported them to the night before. The god in question was stood not far from her, watching intently. He was dressed in the same black robes that made him look foreign among the bright colours and highlighted the pallor of his skin. But he did not look sickly, he had the ethereal look of someone who was ageless, and yet his eyes gave away how many ages he must have seen pass. He was beautiful, in a different way to the men she saw every day at home. But she pushed those thoughts down before they could run away from her.

“You do not look surprised to see me.” He said in the same deep, dulcet tone as the night before, that this time lacked the edge it had when he found her trespassing.

“You are not the first god I have dealt with. Our conversation last night was cut short by my leaving, I knew you would not let it go.” She said, feeling small under his intense gaze even though he was only about half a head taller than her. But she stood her ground, unwilling to show him any weakness.

“I am no god, not in the sense you mean.” He confessed, taking a tentative step towards her.

She forced herself to hold her ground. “If you are no god, what are you?”

“I am one of the seven endless. Each of us have been here since our realms were needed and we will be here long after your gods have diminished.” He said, as if that was any explanation at all.

“What do you want?” Her voice sounded smaller than she intended, but the words echoed those she had uttered when she stood in a similar position before Apollo.

“To understand how you can manipulate the dreaming in such a way that you can enter the dreams of others to create your own nightmares.” He tilted his head to the side slightly, still staring at her with his intense gaze.

“I do not have an answer for you. I was just one day able to.” She gave a half shrug and rubbed her fingers over the soft silk of her dress and dropped her gaze to the grass under her bare feet. Even in the dreaming, as he had called it, they both felt so real under her fingertips and toes.

“If I ask about the curse, are you going to run again?” His voice seemed softer than before.

“I do not see the point. You will just keep appearing to me here until I tell you, will you not?” She glanced up and met his eyes. He had moved closer without her realising so she could finally see the ice blue colour of his eyes.

“I will.” He confirmed.

She nodded and took a breath, wondering if he would be allowed to believe her when everyone else wasn’t. “The god Apollo took an interest in me. I am high priestess of his Temple in Troy. To try and gain my favour, he bestowed on me the gift of foresight. But I did not want it, I did not want him. I turned him down and in his anger he cursed me. I can still see the future and recall prophecies, but he decreed that no one would ever believe me. I know what is going to happen, but no matter what I do, I cannot convince those around me that it will happen.”

He seemed to ponder her words before he spoke again. “Did the ability to manipulate the dreaming come after this?”

“I do not know. I have always been aware I was dreaming while I was asleep, but it was only the anger at my father’s men taking advantage of the women of our household like Apollo did to me that I managed to show them what I wanted them to see.” She could still feel the way the anger had reared in her chest before she found herself stood in the offenders dream.

“I have an offer for you.” He said and she raised her eyebrows in surprise.

“I am listening.”

“I wish to see how much power you hold in my realm. If you would periodically meet here so we can assess your abilities, I will look the other way when you meddle in the dreams of others.” He held a hand up when she went to reply. “Permitted that you do not push too far and damage the dreaming. Do we have an agreement?” He held out his hand.

Taglist: @yanna-banana @thefinalgirlpng @itshamleth

She took it, trying not to dwell on the way her heart skipped at the contact. “Yes.”

Chapter 3

(shoot me a message to be added/removed)

#morpheus #morpheus x oc #morpheus imagine #morpheus oneshot #dream of the endless #dream x oc #dream imagine #dream of the endless x oc #dream x female oc #the sandman #the sandman 2022 #tom sturridge #fated and forgotten

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charubblogs · 8 months

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oc lore dump:Kratanor stunok

(artist deleted account)

ControlledFealtist: oh! hello!

CF: its wonderful to meet you, and under such good circumstances as well, I believe I have some questions to answer...

CF: Would it hurt to start with some softballs so I can understand the format a bit better?

Narrator: of course, perhaps a favorite snack then?

CF: its a bit embarrassing to say, but it shares the same spot as my favorite meal. Jpegified Green Apple Taffy, the crunch is wonderful and sometimes!!! it gets stuck in my back fangs and I can lick it up later as a treat.

CF: I understand that a healthy charub should diversify their sugers but its a bit hard... me and my brother suffer a bit of a allergy, and mother has a hard time finding food that we can stomach, we choose not to bother her as much as we can.

N: you mentioned a mother? some of our viewers may not understand what kind of relationship that entails.

CF: ah, i see. its a bit...like a platonic guardianship, the mother is supposed to feed protect and teach the younger creature from birth to maturity. though in most cases they are related by blood, in my case I was "adopted" which is more in line with the common lusus.

N: and do you belive that your "mother" fullfilled those requirments? or do you find them lacking on one of the three aspects you have listed?

cf: oh dear...I am... unsure if it is fair to judge her by the standards I have for her. as she is not part of the same species. that and my standareds may be a bit extreme, as my race are typically not raised.

N: that feels like a non answer, do you not want to answer?

cf: no no! she fed us and protected us, she ensured that dispite landing on a barren moon that we did not starve. she has her flaws but flaws are inharent. oh dear... yes i do belive that we should move on.

N: then here is an easy question, would you like a cough drop?

cf: oh! yes please! ack, bitter...*cough cough* ah, thank you. shareing a throat with my brother makes it hard to speak sometimes.

N: where would your brother be?

cf: oh! nowhere. cherubs share a body, when i fall asleep my brother will wake up and vice versa. though sometimes i find it a bit annoying... unless mother is being vigilant, ill sometimes wake up out of my bed in the middle of nowhere.

N: that seems inconvenient!

cf: very! but luckily, we are not as dichotomic as others of our race. we have come to a decent enough treatise that allows us to respect certain boundaries. though sometimes those treatises are broken.

N: would you be inclined to go into a bit more detail about that?

cf: yes i would! me and my brother to pass the time, like to explore our world. despite its barren nature, you can find a fair amount of odd artifacts and remains. our agreement was to have a nuetral storehouse with my artifacts and his remains.

cf: but given his tantrums he sometimes destroys said storehouses and claims that he did not. manageable, but childish.

cf: but lets not dwell on that.

N: oh of course! how about some hobbies?

cf: gardening! well... i hope to start gardening, the moon has poor soil quality. I also enjoy making models, though the low image quality makes the kits a bit hard to join together

cf: though with gardening i cant exactly grow anything that I can eat unless i process it extensivly... but the motions of going through it and the potential of seeing something grow make it more then worth it.

N: that actully brings me to my next question, How did you arrive on earth?

CF: an exacallent question! after a while, we managed to find the ruins of a rather large and seemingly technologically advanced city!

CF: which of course by itself? INSANELY intresting. well we found a ship in the wreckage! from what I can understand from the records scattered about, it was ment to send political prisoners, dissidents and sociatal nusiances off planet in "exile."

CF: me and my brother came to a mutual agreement that any rock was better then this one so we gathered up some supplies, fixed up the ship and blasted off!

N: That seems a little extreme, did you really have no other plans?

CF: well we did have a more dangerous option, but we flipped a coin about it.

N: what was that...?

CF: none of your concern~! but hey, were off the moon, we are stuck in wonderful verdent wildnerness, life is going absoloutly swimmingly~!

CF: ack! the cough drop wore off

#charubs #homestuck #oc #infodump

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