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lucozadehulahoop · 5 months

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A question of time (Astarion x fem! tav/reader) part 1/?

Summary: Cazador gets his hands on the daughter (tav) of the Elven goddess Sehanine and a common mortal, hoping to manipulate the girl over time and obtain the favor of her protection while he prepares for his Ascension, during which he plans to sacrifice her to gain more power than any devil could ever promise him.

Unfortunately, as the plans for his Ascension become more and more concrete, his ward is summoned every night by the sweet cries of the most tortured out of all his slaves, and she cannot bear to leave his side.

Meanwhile, it has become increasingly obvious to Astarion that his Master does in fact have a weakness, a certain someone he keeps locked away and safe... there is nothing Astarion wants more than to snuff that little light out of Cazador's eyes, no matter if it's the last thing he ever does.

tags and TW pre-bg3! Astarion, slave!Astarion, mentions of torture and abuse, demi-goddess!tav, Cazador being all sorts of creepy, eventual NSFW (minors stay away kindly, thank you darlings)

Part 2 here ! Part 3 Part 4

I'll take you under my wing, Somebody should

-A Question of Time, Depeche Mode

Astarion had come to the conclusion that the excruciating torture Cazador imposed on him every night was becoming unbearable to the point he was now hallucinating.

It had happened three times now, always when he felt at his lowest. When he was so desperate and alone in his suffering, that he could only wish for someone to drag him out in the early dawn and leave him to burn alive, she would appear.

A clear figment of his imagination. A soul so ethereal yet warm, soft, and real. It made no sense for a creature like that to be down in the dungeons with the likes of him, her silk dress soaked from his own blood. Cazador was never really done with him until the entire floor was soaked in the thick red liquid.

Astarion had been afraid at first. He had never even seen her enter the room. She was just there, at his side. He'd made a feeble attempt to back away when she'd attempted to reach out for him. She had stopped herself in her tracks, and spoken to him softly. Astarion hadn't understood a word. He only knew this was another trick, another evil sent to punish him.

He'd passed out soon after.

The following night he'd realised he didn’t feel as weak as he usually did after a beating. He'd been healed. Somehow he'd even been granted a lavish pillow to rest his head on instead of the cold hard ground he was used to.

Alarmed, Astarion immediately did his best to hide it, using all of his strength to stuff the pillow behind a loose set of bricks in the walls of the dungeon. His master would not have been very forgiving if he thought one of his spawn had been stealing from him.

..☆..

A few weeks passed before the hallucination presented itself again.

It had been another terrible night and Cazador had decided Astarion needed to be sealed up in a coffin again.

Astarion cried like a babe. He begged his Master, promised to do anything for him, to give him anything he wanted. At some point he even attempted to convince Cazador to simply kill him once and for all. But it was no use, and soon he was sealed back into the darkness.

Astarion wondered how long he'd be left to rot this time. Another year? Two? What if this time Cazador simply... forgot about him? Left him to suffer his bloodlust and paranoia for all of eternity?

The world would move on, new cities would be built above his head and no one would be able to hear his cries—

Astarion almost jumped out of his bones in fear when the coffin was being opened up again. He was more than happy to take this little mercy from his Master in exchange of whatever other punishment he chose.

But it was not Cazador's face he ended up facing in the dark.

It was his angel, once again there to save him. Or more likely , as Astarion had been beginning to suspect, to lead him on to the next life.

This time he could see her more clearly. At first glance she might have been any other noble young lady from the city, the kind that had an array of suitors waiting outside her door. She looked like the type to make someone go mad from love or heartbreak, and Astarion was certain there were many out there already dedicating songs and sonnets to her beauty.

Yet her regal attire, while exquisite and fashionable, did not suit her. In fact, it seemed as if she were completely out of place wearing something so mundane. Something told him she wasn't exactly human, or elven for that matter. Her wide eyes were reading him like an open book, yet she did not say a word.

"Now, I don't know who you are..." Astarion warned, barely finding the strength to speak after an almost constant state of screaming and crying. "...or what you want with me... but I can tell you're not his. Because, if you were... you would know how dead we're both going to be when he catches you trying to get me out of here."

She attempted to speak, reaching out for a cut on Astarion's cheek. "You're —"

"You better get the fuck out of here, if you know what's good for you—" Astarion growled, snatching her wrist and squeezing it so tight, if she had been human it would have snapped in his hand like a twig. "And I trust you know how to board up this coffin again since you've been capable of roaming around a den of starving vampire spawn and making it out alive. Twice."

She gave out a wail of pain and Astarion finally let her go. He wasn't about to rot even longer than he had to in a coffin because of yet another reason that was completely out of his control.

The young woman stood there in front of him, undecided on what to do.

"I can't." She said, finally.

"But you will!" Astarion, roared, panicking about the very real possibility of Cazador assuming he'd managed to break out of his confinements himself. "By the hells! Put me back the way you found me and be on your way—"

"But you were crying—" She interjected.

"E-excuse you?" Astarion smiled uneasily, tilting his head to the side. What did this silly little girl think she knew about him?

"I heard you." The odd little thing in front of him answered as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "You were calling out for help. You said, anything but the dark-"

Astarion's eyes burned with rage and hot tears. Suddenly he was stumbling out of the coffin, grabbing the woman by her frilly bloodstained clothes, and pinning her up against a wall. "You're here to doom me, is that it? You're some kind of faerie pulling a cruel joke on me, are you? Trying to give him even more excuses to hurt me. Is that it?" He panted frantically, straining his ears to pick up any signs of Cazador's return. "Here to feed on my suffering, are you?" Astarion attempted to grill answers out of her.

The supposed faerie did not seem concerned with the fact an unstable bloodthirsty creature currently had her trapped with no way of escape. She slowly reached for a huge gaping wound on Astarion's abdomen, and for a few moments he was transfixed by how quickly the flesh healed itself back together under his very eyes.

"I do not wish to bring you harm." She explained calmly. "I thought you would enjoy the freedom. He is away. And I promise to put you back as you were before his return."

Astarion shook his head and laughed maniacally. Freedom. His prayers had somehow been answered but he didn't trust the situation one bit. "Is that right, princess?" He taunted her. "And who just might you be to know the comings and goings of the Master of this house better than his own spawn?"

"He calls me his daughter."

..☆..

The revelation never left Astarion's head, even in the days that followed. Cazador... his heartless captor, his psychotic jailor, had a weakness. Initially, he'd thought about what it would have been like to take the life of Cazador's precious daughter right there and then, damned by the consequences.

But that would have been too easy. No, Astarion had finally stumbled upon something that gave him an edge over his Master, and his revenge was going to be carefully thought out. Sweet as can be.

Cazador had never mentioned his daughter to any of them so Astarion had no rules or commandments looming over his head. She was the perfect way to get revenge after almost two centuries of suffering. He just needed to be clever about it. He could not squander an opportunity like this.

The prospect of hurting Cazador made the torture much more barerable during the coming weeks. In fact, Astarion didn't know whether he was delirious or if all of that suffering was just feeding the fire burning inside of him more and more.

Once he'd been finally freed to go out and bring a new victim for Cazador to feast on, his plan he been set into action. Going out on a limb, Astarion assumed Cazador had tucked his daughter in the highest room of the tallest tower of his castle, where none could get to her and where she could never see the true horror of who her father truly was.

Under the cover of night, he scaled the side of the castle walls with nothing but some climbing tools and his own blessed agility. And as he did so, his mind was flooded with the same questions he'd been plagued with since the last night he'd seen the young woman. How was it possible that Cazdor had sired a daughter? What was the nature of her powers? They did not seem to have sliver of relation between them. And why, oh why, was she so determined to care for Astarion of all people?

Had Cazador set her on it? Was it all some sick game? Only one thing was for sure. Cazador had hidden the girl from everything and everyone, so at some fundamental level he must have cared for her.

That was all that mattered to Astarion. It was worth risking Cazador's eternal wrath just to see even a tiny sliver of pain in his eyes. A crack in his armor. And there was no doubt in his mind that would soon be true, just as soon as he found his daughter's lifeless body and her blood splattered all across the castle walls on his return.

"Are you stuck?" Her voice called out to him from her bedroom window as she looked down at him. Yes, Astarion had been slightly stalled by his thoughts. He looked up at her. Well, there went the element of surprise. He certainly was not planning on underestimating her. The girl had true power coursing through her veins.

Yet, he had not anticipated the scenario and now he was at a loss for words. A first for him. "No I was just, well I was—"

"Just close the window when you come up, okay? It's getting cold in here." She admonished him, before disappearing back inside. Astarion was a little taken aback. Had she known he was coming?

When he finally stepped into her chambers, he got a full understanding of just how capable Cazador was of spoiling and pampering someone he cared about. The room was lavish and spacious, almost every single item worth more than the average working person in Baldur's Gate could make in their entire lifetimes.

She was there, simply brushing her hair in front of the fireplace, almost completely uncaring about the fact a stranger had just invaded her private quarters.

Astarion let a dagger slip out of his sleeve, and only then did she turn around to look at him. He hated it, wishing he could have gotten the chance to kill her in her sleep or with a stab to the back, so he wouldn't have had to stare into those mesmerizing pools again.

"You won't hurt me, Astarion." She simply stated.

Astarion ground his teeth in anger. It really wasn't fair how perfect his name sounded on her tongue.

"I see his brat is not only spoiled, but entitled too. What makes you think you'll get out of this?" Astarion marched over towards her. "What makes you think your life will be spared against the countless others I've dragged to the grave in your father's name?" He snarled drawing his blade up to her perfect neck.

The sound of her pulse was enchanting and exhilarating at the same time. If he only could have, he would have gorged himself with her blood, sunk his teeth into her perfect flesh.

"Because... you're afraid the next time you call for help you'll be alone. For good." She answered honestly, seeing right through him as if he were made of glass.

The young woman had meant no offense, but Astarion took it nonetheless. In one swift move, he had a dagger to her throat, tears brimming in his eyes. He hated that she was right, but he was going to prove her wrong nonetheless.

"You think you're so smart, don't you love?" He sneered. "What? Were you so bored all couped up in your tower, you thought you could just have a little fun with one of your daddy's toys? That bastard's going to get what's coming to him—"

Suddenly, she was placing a hand over Astarion's mouth and cutting him off mid-speech. For the first time ever, Astarion saw the strange girl display concern in her features. No... it was genuine fear in her eyes.

"He's... he's down the hall." She whispered, more concerned with her father's arrival than the blade at her throat. Astarion dropped the weapon and froze, completely incapable of doing anything except await for his punishment in silence.

"What are you doing?" She fretted over him. "You need to leave!" The girl tried to put some sense into him but it was useless. Her attempts to drag him towards her closet were also fruitless.

Astarion was frozen, his eyes on the door and his ears keenly listening to Cazador's steps as they drew nearer.

___

AN: Let me know if you'd like part 2, comments are appreciated 🤧🥺

#astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion fic #astarion smut #astarion angst #astarion fluff #bg3 astarion #bg3 x reader #bg3 x tav #bg3 x you #astarion x female reader #astarion x female tav #astarion x f!tav #astarion x f!reader

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ghstzzn · 17 days

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entombed | jeong yunho

pairing: jeong yunho x f!reader wc: 3.3k

summary: a demon of your past casually takes what's his, which is you.

warnings/tags: smut, porn with almost zero plot, demon yunho, unprotected sex, oral (f) rec., rough sex, public sex (in an office during after hours), pet names (baby, angel) multiple orgasms, can't think of anything else.

note: this is a re-upload from my deleted account, yunho-mp3, so if it seems very familiar - that is why lol. this is still one of the few things i've written that i loveeeee so much.

The rain pours, cracks of thunder here and there, never startling you though. In fact, it brought some sort of comfort to you, it gave you a sense of realness, as if everything around you were fake. Like if living and breathing were but a chore. Yes, that was the only way you could describe it.

You felt like a weed in a beautiful garden. Poisoned, ripped out - but never at the root, and stomped on. But here you were, sitting straight up as you finished your report for work. Your glasses nearly slipping off the tip of your nose as you type away on your computer, like you were on autopilot. You entrust the workload to your hands as they abuse every letter on the keyboard.

Not a soul remained in the quiet office. They’ve gone home to their families - their children, their loved ones, or maybe out with their friends while they try to digest ungodly amounts of alcohol. You could be doing the same, yes, you had friends and family, but your feet stayed planted to the floor of the office building.

You were happy with life, beyond happy. It felt as if you had everything. He was in your life then too, but it was different then. He hadn’t had as much of an impact as he does now. Your escapades with the man never haunted you as much as they did now. They were harmless, they were innocent one (or multiple) one night stands, you knew almost nothing about him. All you knew was that he “traveled” and little things, like how he liked his coffee & eggs, or how he loved deep conversations with you that lasted hours before you fucked until the sun rose, or how he would never be there when you woke up again. No note. No text. Nothing. As if he were never there. Only the smell of cigarettes and liquor remained in your cold, empty bed.

Jeong Yunho, the man you once felt safe with despite knowing it was but casual sex after bar meetups. You had your suspicions about him. They were mostly him having an affair with you, but you knew something was wrong and this would end horribly.

And it did. Or so you thought.

You brought it up after a lustful night, trying your best to keep your eyes open. You questioned where he went, why he was so secretive, why he refused to give you a number and why he spoke in poems. You asked why you had to rely on coincidental bar meetups, in which he showed up with a group of people and why the customers in the bar didn’t spare him a single glance. In the midst of it all, you confessed your love for him. Maybe that's where it snapped.

He laughed at you. Said you were perfect, adorable even. Tears welled up in his eyes as he laughed at you. It took five minutes for him to compose himself before he confessed. Not love. Not anything you’d expect, no, he confessed his sins to you.

Yunho confessed the number of people he’s slaughtered, the people he's tortured. He confessed ripping families apart for the hell of it, just because he can, and because of his purpose. The sacrifices, the blood, the worship. Hell, he called himself the devil and wore the title proudly. The man you confessed your love to ran a fucking cult and the worst part about it is that your feelings didn’t fade, you had just wished you didn’t ask.

Ignorance is bliss.

He disappeared that night. You haven’t seen Yunho since that night. Honestly, you couldn’t sleep for weeks as you were convinced he would come back just to kill you. It would only make sense, as he did confess to horrid crimes you never once assumed he was capable of doing. But still, you were at war with yourself and your morals. How could you still love him? To yearn for him every night before bed? You question your sanity. The man left you to rot in fear, watching your own back constantly. Jolting awake to every noise you heard in your apartment.

Yet, you still missed the sweet scent he left on your pillows the months before now. Missing the soft scent of alcohol and cigarettes mixed with honey and sandalwood. You missed his voice, his accent and the way his voice lowered through the night whether it was sweet nothings he whispered into your ears or when he told you about the passions no one knew of as you stargazed.

You weren’t the only one at battle with yourself either. Yunho condemned himself. He hated himself for going back to you for a second night at the bar. Absolutely despised himself for letting his rotting heart open up to you during those nights. But most importantly, he despised you. He hated you, he wanted to wrap his hands around your throat and end your life right then and there. But it wasn’t because of who he was, and what you knew he was. It was because he loved you, because he let himself become addicted to you. He let himself feel things for you he was never supposed to feel and he could only hate you for that. Even on nights like this, all he can think about is you.

The rain never let up - a perfect metaphor for you. You continue to let your fingers work their magic on the computer in front of you. Ruining your eyes in the dark room. Your teeth abused your bottom lip while a certain man abused your mind. You hear a beep at the entrance of your office, you think nothing of it as it could be another overtime victim or the security guard making his rounds (though the old man was sure to scold you if so). When you don’t hear any footsteps to follow the sound of the door slamming shut, you look up from your computer screen.

You shoot up from your desk chair, it rolls back, hitting the desk behind you with a thud. Your heart pounds as Yunho stands just feet away from you. The moonlight, along with the light from a few stray computers left on open documents lit up his body just enough for you to take in the man standing before you. It would be wrong to call him beautiful in such a moment as this. But he was. You couldn’t deny it, it’s what drew your heart towards him anyway. You couldn’t decipher if your heart was pounding in fear or if it were pounding in yearning for Yunho.

“Angel.” Your body flinches. Air caught in your throat as he speaks the pet name for you in his deep voice. You wonder where he was before this. Ending lives? Taking souls for himself if he were the devil he claims to be? Even so, you wonder why he left you, and why didn’t stay in your arms all these past nights.

He steps towards you and you take a step back. He only smirks at the reaction your body gave. You fight off every instinct to run into his arms. Your mind and body are at war with each other as you continue to step backwards with every step he takes towards you.

“Why do you run, angel?” Yunho questions, he still advances towards you. You start to run out of room behind you, but you don’t know that.

“Wh-what are you doing here?” You try your best to ask the question with a sturdy voice, not letting emotions take over. He cannot win. Yet. “How did you find me, Yunho?”

Your upper thighs are met with the hard desk behind you and Yunho is a mere foot from you, closing the distance between you at a painfully slow pace. You want to run, but stupidly enough you choose to stay.

“My heart follows only you, of course I know where you are.” He replies, a wide smile planted on his face. “I always know where you are.”

Yunho stands in front of you know, his breath hitting your forehead as he speaks. He lifts a hand, twirling your hair through his fingers as he admires every inch of your face.

“I've missed you dearly.” His voice barely above a whisper. Your words get caught in your throat. Missed you? The same man that left you empty, alone and confused missed you?

“You don’t get to say that, Yunho. Where were you?” You match his tone as you speak. “You left me..”

His hand falls on your cheek, cupping it with enough strength to force your head up at him but not enough to hurt you. You unwillingly fall into his touch, your body yearning for his comfort once again.

“My sweet girl has missed me too,” Yunho starts, “stupidly enough, you miss me just as much. I’m here now, that means something, right?”

“It.. it doesn’t.” You reply, a loss of words as you try to come up with what to say to the man in front of you.

The man that left you for months, making you feel inhumane, questioning your own soul. You should be screaming at him, running away from him. You could at least tell him to get the fuck away from you, but you stay planted in the same spot, melting into his touch.

Yunho's eyes battle on what to focus on, going back and forth from your eyes to your lips. His body subconsciously leaning into yours, breath fanning your face. He watches your eyes share the same struggle as his. You want him just as badly, and he knows it. It makes him smile. The way you so easily submit to him, it's endearing, really. Yunho adores you, and you give him every single reason to keep adoring you.

He can now. There’s nothing stopping him, and he won't let anything stop him again.

“Please.” You breathe out. And with just that one word from you, his lips are connected to yours.

The kiss burns with passion, your lips dance a fiery dance as they melt into each other. It’s not long before he’s biting your lip, making you gasp so he can slip his tongue in yours. A fight of dominance, one that he wins again. Maybe one day he could let you take the reins on him, but for now, he needed you in any way he could have you. It wasn’t in his plans to take you in your office, but it doesn’t matter. It will be your last night stepping foot in this building. Maybe it was better you ended up here, the security cameras pointed at your breathless bodies tearing at each other's clothing as he claimed you for himself.

Your mind is foggy as Yunho rips open your blouse, buttons landing in various places as he attacks your neck and chest. Biting and sucking on the most sensitive parts of your skin. Your hands find themselves gripping at his hair for stability. The moans of his name only encourage him to go deeper. He lowers himself, planting kisses on your stomach, looking into your eyes and he bites and tugs at your skin, soaking in your yelps and whines.

Yunho drops to his knees, hands gripping the backs of your thighs as he searches your eyes for anything. When he finds the answer he needs, he's tugging your slacks down with such force that you almost fall on top of him, only saved by him slamming you back against the desk. One hand flys on top of the desk behind you and the other on top of Yunho's head, raking your fingers through his hair before grabbing a handful to keep your body stable.

His breath fans your clothed core, which is dripping in sweet arousal that Yunho can so clearly smell from a mile away. The scent that started his addiction with you. He yanks your underwear down in one brief movement, not wasting a single second in between before diving himself into your folds. Tongue attacking your clit with force that almost folds your body in half, practically screaming his name. He spreads your legs enough to slip two fingers inside of you, not bothering to start small. Yunho's goal was to pleasure you and prepare you, as he has always done, but this time more desperately.

He needed you badly, skin aching to touch you once more. His fingers pump and curl inside you at a fast pace that has your knees shaking while his tongue darts and swirls at your sensitive nub. If your vision hadn’t gone foggy and you were paying close attention, you could see Yunho's eyes turn black, with no life behind them.

“Fuck- Yunho, please.” You moan out. His fingers remain inside you, pumping at a pace that only makes you roll your eyes back, he pulls his mouth away.

“God, how I’ve missed your sweet taste.” Yunho kisses your inner thighs, you only yearn for his touch where you need him the most. “You haven’t fucked anyone else, I can tell. You belong to me, huh? This sweet cunt of yours is all mine for the taking?”

Your body heats up and you clench at his words. His fingers stop, urging you to answer. Yunho has always liked when you responded to his filthy words in bed.

“Y-yes! All for you, Yunho. Please.. M-more.”

He smirks against your skin, returning the brutal pace of his fingers. He throws one of your legs over his shoulder, reaching new spots in your core. He dives back into your wetness, the force of his tongue has you leaning back onto the messy desk behind you. Not caring of the mess you were making in the owner's area. Both hands are now in Yunho's hair as he eats you out like a starved man.

A familiar warmth pools in your lower half as he continues to abuse your clit and hole. You pull on his hair, making him groan right into you. He leaves a harsh slap to your ass, snapping that rope leading to your orgasm. Your body trembles as you come on to his fingers and tongue, but his pace never relents. He continues until he's satisfied.

“Yunho- fuck, it’s t-too much. Oh my god- too much!” You almost scream. The warmth pooling back into your stomach already, not even being minutes since your first orgasm. He adds a third finger and you scream out his name.

Your thighs close around his head as he brings forth another orgasm, you pull his hair, trying your hardest to push him away from your overstimulated area. He pulls back, a smile so wide you could only assume he achieved his goal.

Yunho pulls his fingers out of you, you pant as he stands to his full height. Grabbing the back of your neck to pull you closer to him, he sticks his fingers into your mouth, and you suck.

“Taste yourself, pretty angel of mine? That’s all you.” He coos. You stare into his eyes, his black eyes. Lost in the pleasure, you couldn’t possibly bring yourself to be concerned over it. Technically, he did warn you.

He replaces his fingers with his lips once more. He quickly unbuckled his jeans, yanking them down with his underwear to free his aching cock. Yunho hooks his arms under your thighs, rubbing his length against your soaked core. Making your body shutter at the action.

“Fuck. Y/N, you don’t know how badly I’ve needed to be inside you.” He groans into your ear. “How bad I’ve needed you these past few months. Just wanna fuck you and never stop.”

“Please, please just- need you inside, Yunho.” You whine, bucking your hips for any friction his cock can give.

“Mmh, I’m not the only one who’s been needy, huh?”

Yunho tucks your hair out of your face. “So fucked out and I haven’t even properly fucked you.”

You throw your head into his shoulder as he slides into you. Not sparing you a second before he's already pulling out and slamming back into you. Yunho suddenly lifts you into his arms, bringing you to a different table, an emptier table that he can lay you down on. He takes your hands and pins them above your head before ramming into you once more.

He speeds his pace up, fucking into you with enough force that the table below you creaks. Yunho lets go of your hands to grip your waist, bringing your body to meet his as he fucks you. He grunts and groans, throwing his head back in pleasure. You didn’t even notice when he got rid of his shirt.

“S’fucking perfect. Like you were made to take my cock.” Yunho grunts out. “Wanna fuck you so full.”

You only scream and moan his name. His pace only quickens and you can feel your third orgasm approach you.

“Cum on my cock, angel.”

You tighten around him before releasing over him once more. Your body shakes and you can barely catch your breath. He pulls out suddenly, flipping you over, giving you a second to recover as he rubs your ass cheeks before giving them a smack.

“Just one more, baby.” He pleads from behind.

“Yunho- I, so much-”

“One more, I promise. Then we can leave forever. Together.”

You don’t push on that, you only nod and he enters you again. Returning his brutal thrusts from before but this time as a new angle. You wonder how he could have so much restraint from cumming, but he is inhuman afterall. Or so it seems.

Your body flattens against the table top as he fucks into you with so much strength that the table rocks back and forth. You yelp and moan his name loudly as he does so. The office room is silent other than the cries from both you and Yunho and skin slapping. Yunho continues the brutal pace but soon his thrusts turn sloppier by the second.

“Fuck- baby, I’m close.” He chokes out, leaning forwards to catch himself on the table. “Cum with me again, angel, I know you can.”

He reaches a hand around, rubbing circles in your already sensitive clit. It doesn’t take long for your final orgasm to reach you.

“Yes, just like that. Cum for me, show me one more time how good I’m fucking you.”

The band inside you snaps once more as you come, with so much force that your body falls limp as you pant against the table. Within a few more thrusts, Yunho comes inside of you. White ropes of cum filling your walls for what it seems like a full minute. He pulls out and rests against your body, both catching your breaths and trying to regain your stamina.

Moments pass before he’s helping you turn over, wiping up your legs with spare tissues left on one of the nearby desks.

“You think you can walk?” He asks as he pulls your slacks back up over your legs. You nod.

“I think so, maybe with a bit of help.” You reply. “By the way, your eyes.. They are-”

“Black? Baby, I told you what I was months ago, don’t act so ignorant.”

Yunho straightens out, already fully dressed, as he covers your chest with your torn blouse. He stares into your eyes, with what you could only hope is with love.

“Let’s go,” He takes your hand in his, “We have a car waiting.”

“Where are we going?” You ask, leaning into his hold.

“Away. Won't you come with? We’ll be together forever.” He questions, but he knows the answer already. He knows you would follow him to the ends of the Earth if he asked.

“Of course, Yunho. Until the end.” He smiles, almost sadistically. You were his, forever.

Yunho takes your hand up to his mouth, planting a kiss on the back of it.

“Oh, you will. You’re nothing but mine, for eternity.”

#interlude-ateez 🎬#yunho x reader #interlude-yunho ☆#ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez x female reader #ateez smut #ateez scenarios #yunho smut #yunho scenarios #yunho fanfic #yunho x y/n

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aethes-bookshelf · 5 months

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empty eyes, emptier words || astarion/tav/halsin

I've been stuck in BG3 hell since the game first came out. I'm still in there. I don't think I'll be coming out anytime soon, so have this piece of angst. If everything goes well, maybe I'll deliver on some devil fucking (ft. Haarlep & Raphael). But that's a big IF.

For now, take this. I wrote it in class. I was supposed to be paying attention, but I made this instead. Bon appétit.

Warnings: angst, hurt/no comfort, tav straight up fucking dies

Pairing: astarion/tav/halsin

Wordcount: 1.4k

Summary: Orin knew exactly who to take to hit those troublesome True Souls the hardest. Their leader was the obvious choice - a chicken can only run so far if you take its head. Tav would make a beautiful sacrifice for Bhaal.

And if anyone came to try and get them back? All the better. Blood will flow either way. And what a sight it'll be.

[I made some changes to Orin's dagger. Now, whoever gets killed with it can't be resurrected. Or can they?]

ao3 link || part 2

Orin turned around at the first sound of footsteps. She brandished her dagger, her Netherstone embedded in the cold metal of the weapon. She was standing on the sacrificial altar at the center of the temple. Beneath her laid Tav, arms and legs bound. They were unconscious, fresh and old wounds littering their body. The little clothing they wore stuck to their skin, wet with blood. The smell of it hit Astarion like a club to the head. He hated how his mouth instantly watered, hunger rearing its ugly head.

‘I don’t smell Gortash’s rot on you,’ Orin said, crouching by Tav’s body. She dragged her blade across their skin. Fresh blood bubbled to the surface. Tav didn’t even flinch. They were barely breathing.

‘Did it think it could trick me? Did it think it could save?’ Orin taunted, her dagger stopping right over Tav’s heart. Astarion could hear its faint beating.

The heat of Karlach’s anger burned the air around her. ‘I hope you’re not about to do what I think you are. For your sake.’ Her massive ax sliced through the pungent air, tail swishing behind her.

Halsin didn’t speak, but his eyes glowed bright gold. His hands were clenched at his sides, anger barely restrained.

Astarion unsheathed his own daggers, their weight a fleeting comfort. ‘You lay one more finger on them, I’ll rip your throat out,’ he said. A growl ripped itself out of his throat.

‘Your teeth aren’t sharp enough to pierce my throat,’ said Orin. The tip of her dagger sank into Tav’s chest. ‘Not enough to slice my flesh, taste my blood.’ She drew back her hand, dagger rising into the air. A speck of blood followed its tip.

Astarion clenched his jaw so hard his teeth hurt. His upper lip drew back; he bared his fangs on instinct.

‘Even if you kill them, all you’ll achieve is pissing us off,’ said Karlach. Her words were confident, but her voice betrayed her; she was afraid. ‘We’ll just bring them back so they can spit on your fucking corpse after I split you in half, you crazy bitch.’

None of them liked the way Orin laughed at those words. ‘“Bring them back”? Not here. Not with Bhall’s blessing.’ She grinned, showing all of her teeth. ‘They’ll be the first sacrifice of the night. Then I’ll spill your blood and guts on their flayed skin.’ A shiver ran through Orin as she brought her dagger down.

The blade sank into Tav’s chest with a sickening squelch. They gasped, body going rigid for just a second. Then they went limp.

Astarion’s scream rang through the still air as Karlach charged the altar.

* * *

Astarion knelt down by the bodies laying on the stairs and started rifling through their pockets.

‘What the hell are you doing, Fangs?’ asked Karlach. Tears were evaporating off of her face, her infernal engine still hot with her battle rage. The ashes of a used scroll of revivify were cooling at her feet. The spell's energy had already ran out and Tav was still limp, their body slowly going rigid.

‘I’m looting, can’t you tell?’ Astarion’s voice was snappy, but even. ‘Tav’s usually the one to take everything that’s not nailed down but they obviously can’t do it this time, can they?’

He leaned down over a pile of smoking bones and burned blood that used to be a man once. ‘They always find something for us in these piles of trash, I thought it’d be… nice to do the same for them for once.’ He managed to fish out a rusted dagger from underneath the pile.

‘Astarion,’ said Karlach, voice breaking.

‘Besides, their favorite tea ran out a few days ago, so we’re gonna need stuff to sell.’ He leaned over the pile of Orin’s gore next. ‘Tav spent most of our money on some new armor for you and Gale, and that tea’s expensive, you know?’ He took Orin’s dagger. His hands were shaking.

‘Astarion,’ Karlach tried again. The low hiss of evaporating tears got louder.

‘They deserve to drink something good when they come back, no?’ Astarion stood up straight. His grip on Orin’s dagger was so tight his chuckles went paper-white.

‘Astarion,’ Karlach’s voice was low and thick with tears, ‘I don’t think they’re coming ba—’

‘Don’t you dare finish that sentence.’ Astarion was quick to turn around and point the dagger at Karlach’s chest. ‘Don’t you dare finish that sentence.’ For the first time since they arrived at the temple, his voice broke. ‘Of course they’re coming back. Why do we keep that creepy skeleton around if not to bring us back in times like these?’

His eyes watered. ‘They’re coming back. They have to. They must. Even if that means I’ll have to drag them out of the Hells myself.’

Astarion’s eyes wandered to Tav’s broken corpse. They were still laying on the altar, the stone of it slick with their drying blood. He couldn’t see their face; Halsin’s shoulders were obstructing the view. Astarion could swear the druid was shaking too.

‘Halsin, they’re coming back, right? They’re coming back!’ If Astarion’s heart still beat, it’d be fluttering with rising panic.

Halsin’s voice was low and quiet. He kept stroking Tav’s matted hair as he spoke. ‘I’m not sure they will, my friend.’

Those words punched all air out of Astarion’s lungs. Fury replaced it.

‘Shut up!’ he screamed; his voice echoed in the empty temple. ‘We were supposed to have decades together. Decades! They can’t leave yet. They promised!’ His knees buckled. With every word he spoke, he sank lower and lower, until his knees hit the cold stone beneath him. ‘They promised we’d… We were supposed to find a way for me to be in the sun again,’ his voice faded into silence.

Astarion couldn’t speak anymore. His chest clenched and his eyes burned. He wanted to scream. He wanted to rage and kill, and tear. He wanted to bring Orin back just so he could send her to her blasted god all over again. He wanted to hear Tav laugh at one of his stupid jokes.

His throat was clenched so tight not even sobs could escape it. He was vaguely aware Halsin’s shoulders were openly shaking with his grief, but he couldn’t bring himself to comfort the druid. That would mean looking at Tav’s empty eyes. That would make this entire nightmare real. So very, terribly real.

Astarion’s grip on Orin’s dagger loosened; the weapon fell with a loud cling, its Netherstone slipping out of it. The stone shone dimly in the light of the torches.

All of it for these stones. All this death, pain and misery for these three pieces of one whole. Tav died for it.

Meaningless, meaningless, meaningless. All of it. All of it!

Astarion’s mind was reeling; jumping from pain to denial to anger to desperation. He didn’t know what to do. Tav would know, he thought, and a fresh wave of tears fell.

Karlach laid a hand on his shoulder. She’d cooled down enough for her touch to be only slightly painful on his corpse-cold skin. ‘We have to go, Fangs. Halsin.’ Her grip on Astarion tightened when he shook his head. ‘We have to go,’ she repeated, harsher this time. Barely restrained emotion shook her voice. ‘If they even can come back, we need to get them back to camp as soon as possible.’

Halsin took a deep breath and wiped his face with the back of his hand. ‘Karlach’s right,’ he said and stood up. Tav was limp as he cradled them close to his chest. To his heart. ‘If we stay here too long, we’ll certainly lose them for good.’ The druid squared his shoulders and turned to face the other two.

Astarion went rigid at the sight of Tav’s hand, limply hanging off the side of their body. He couldn’t bring himself to look up at their face.

‘Astarion,’ Halsin’s voice was soft, ‘I understand your pain. They are in my heart as they are in yours. But we mustn't waste time lest we lose them forever. If there is a chance to save them, we must act now.’

Astarion swallowed down the bile rising in his throat. The chill of death had never been more present in his bones. He nodded, silent, and picked up Orin’s dagger and Netherstone.

‘Let’s go,’ said Karlach, new-found determination on her face. ‘We still have to buy their favorite tea after this, right? How’d you put it, Fangs? “They deserve to drink something good after this”?’

Astarion nodded. He didn’t trust his voice not to break if he spoke. There was an empty, far-away look in his eyes.

As they left the temple of Bhaal, the sweet stench of blood followed them out.

#my writing #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #halsin x tav #halsin x reader #astarion x tav x halsin #angst #hurt/no comfort #major character death #x reader #gender neutral tav #ambiguous ending

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ghastlytofu · 6 months

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Can't stop thinking about how Wyll and Astarion's physiology was forcibly and irrevocably altered by their abusers into something nominally monstrous, how they both ask the player to be their mirror when they're unable or unwilling to look at themselves. How they desperately want to be what you see in them. Walk with me.

"They say that anyone who bathes in the River of Blood emerges as one born anew. [Being a devil] is a lot like that, I imagine. I feel the weight of these horns on my head, curling upwards like a mammoth's tusks. I feel these ridges snaking down my neck, not to mention a few bumps and prongs in unmentionable places. But I haven't seen my reflection just yet."

"Be my mirror. What do you see?"

"I've never even seen this face. Not since it grew fangs and my eyes turned red. I don't know [what color they were before]. I can't remember. My face is just some dark shape in my past. Another thing I've lost."

"And what do you see, exactly?"

How they want their bodies to feel like their own again. As far as monstrous magical transformations go, Wyll deals with the fallout of his over the course of the game; Astarion dealt with his in the past (undead) and fears it happening again (illithid).

[Wyll burns in the fires of Avernus. The lightning storms of Dis strike his flesh. His soul passes through each layer of the Hells - gaining their essence, and their torment.]

"Just look at me! I did what was right and Mizora made me pay for it."

"In truth, I don't feel in a festive mood, and I didn't want to cast a grey cloud over the night. I'm a devil. I love the people from the grove but I unsettle them deep down, as I seem to unsettle everyone nowadays. You don't want a devil at your party. Claws will pop the balloons, you see. And the sweetcakes don't taste half as good as raw eggs with this blasted forked tongue."

"I'll have to take your word for it [the horns have character]. I've been avoiding my own reflection."

"A man looks in, a devil looks out. I might never get used to it."

"And to think how much time I've spent wishing I could rip them off. (...) Shit. I'm being insensitive. Sorry. They just take some getting used to."

"Hm. I'm still me, I guess. Sort of."

And we have Astarion, who's been there. Who knows.

"I remember how it hurt, when I turned into a vampire. My body writhed and warped while I was utterly helpless. The grip of death owned my heart as it beat its last. I - I don't want to turn into anything else. I can't do that again. I can't watch my body be taken over."

"Just don't ask me to sacrifice my body. It hasn't been mine for very long."

#i'm not well 🙃#they've got me in a chokehold. i mean an EMBRACE #and by that i mean their parallels make me feral #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 spoilers #long post #wyll ravengard #astarion ancunin #wyllstarion #bloodpact

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strniohoeee · 2 months

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Hidden In The Shadows

Part 2 Here

Pairing: Matt Sturniolo X Female Reader

Synopsis: Following a lesson about this town that seemed to suddenly vanish, Y/N is intrigued to figure out what truly happened. However she might’ve bitten off more than she can chew….

Warnings⚠️: Nothing crazy, talks of/explanations of a cult, creepy rural town. This was from a Drabble about matt based on a type of horror movie he’d be done by @gamermattsgf she’s wifey and I had to adapt this into an imagine😫 @st7rnioiossblog

Song for imagine: Oblivion- Grimes

I never walk about after dark

It’s my point of view

Cause someone could break your neck

Coming up behind you

Always coming and you’d never have a clue

Moving out of my hometown wasn’t on my bingo cards for this year and moving out of my hometown for a research project was 1000 percent not on my bingo cards. Yet somehow I was packed up and on the road within three months of starting my project.

I’ve always had a weird niche for all things history, but especially history that just seems to vanish into thin air. I began to become extremely interested in towns that are no longer on the map due to poverty, weather change or even these people becoming hunters and gathers. Packing up and moving out in an instant. It all started in my senior year of college. I was studying geography at my local four year college in my hometown of Nevada.

Honestly I hated college all the long hours, all the homework and also having a full time job on top of that, but I had a full ride so I decided to suck it up. My very last year I had some space for a filler class that got me extra credits so I landed on the study of United States Lands focusing on increase and decrease of population throughout the recent centuries.

Personally I thought the class was going to suck, but to my surprise my professor was amazing. Towards the end of my final semester we began to learn about Pleasant Town Oklahoma. A once booming town immediately vanished off the face of the earth.

“Now class you may be asking yourself why was this town so rich? And I’m here to tell you it’s because the mayor at the time in the year 1915 had connections with our president. They hid money, fabrics, food and all types of expensive items within this small town” Mr Wayne stated

“I mean with hiding all this stuff how did they become so wealthy?” One guy had asked, my eyes darting to him

“They were being paid off for hiding these things, however the money was dirty money, so they created many businesses to get the cash flow moving. From one store to one man’s pocket to the next and then next thing you know that dirty money is in George's hand who lives in Virginia! It was all an amazing scheme, very smart. But as you can see it didn’t last long nor did it end well” He had stated as he clicked the laptop to show the next slide shown on the board

“Within three years of this operation this small town alone was bringing in about $100,000 a month which is over $2 million dollars in today's money. So then you ask yourself how does such a rich state with so much money just disappear? And all the money too?” He states scratching his chin

“So Professor Wayne….what exactly happened to them?” I asked after raising my hand

“No one really knows” he states uncrossing his arms and leaning off the desk

“I mean there has to be a reason right? That’s a lot of money to just disappear” I state as I jot down notes

“Well here’s the other thing, there are many rumors dating back to the creation of Oklahoma which was 1907. Sources have stated that Pleasant Town is evil and I’m talking demonic evil. People have said the reason the cash flow never stopped was because they were all a cult and seemingly used one another as sacrifice.” He stated clearing his throat

“Sacrifice?” I questioned raising my eyebrow

“Well yes! In many cultures it is stated if you do a blood sacrifice for the devil and/or sell your soul then your wishes shall come true. Their wishes were to stay wealthy. This came with problems however” he says as he sits down at his desk

The whole class was on the edge of their seats waiting for him to go on.

“Many of these men had short arms and deep pockets. Making it very easy for one man to kill the next out of greed” Wayne goes on

“And didn’t they get caught? I mean the president wouldn’t allow that” one classmate states

“Very true! The town was very small, only about 80 people now if 10 people suddenly die many eyebrows are raised. For a while they covered up the stories claiming a sickness like smallpox. The mayor decided to bring animals claiming this would make them richer since they produce meat, eggs and milk. Now he wasn’t wrong, but the animals were used in these blood sacrifices to hide their tracks” he says nodding his head

“God these people were ahead of their time” I blurt out and crossed my arms over their chest

“Oh they were, but that might’ve costed them their fortunes and their town” Professor Wayne states

“So that’s it? They just left? And what now?” I asked him

“It’s stated that they just separated, leaving most of the money to the whole state of Oklahoma. Afraid the president was after them or maybe they danced with the devil for too long and ended up paying the price” he states bluntly

“And the price is?” I asked him

“Death” he says frowning a bit which caused a chill to run up my spine

“But this is all speculation. About 30 years later Pleasant Town was rebuilt and supposedly none of that cult stuff was brought to that town. And till this day it’s still up and running. I believe the population is only about 200-250 people max?” He says rubbing his chin in thought

“I mean that’s just sad… we’ll never know the truth” I said to him shutting my notebook

“I mean you could always go and visit, spend the summer there. See what it’s like……anybody up for a challenge” he says laughing as the class shudders in fear and averts their eyes to the floor

I mean I was super interested in this lost town with such a dark history that suddenly reappeared 30 years after weird cult shit was happening. I could always take the summer off from work since I graduate in May….. take a road trip to Pleasant Town Oklahoma. Find the real history and report back to Professor Wayne.

My thoughts were interrupted when the bell rang and he bid his goodbyes to the class. Everyone was quick on their feet out of the door, but I stood back very interested in talking to him.

I trotted over to his desk as he shut his laptop, stuffing it into his book bag. His eyes darting up once he felt my presence

“Ahh Ms. Y/L/N…. You seemed very intrigued with today's lesson, planning a weekend getaway?” He asked me playfully

“Funny that you mention it because I was thinking more of a whole summer get away” I stated

“A whole summer?” He says brows lifting immediately

“I’m really interested in this town. I mean a mayor in on cult rituals to bring tons of cash in and the president not having a clue? And then they just vanished? This is like a movie sir” I state as I ramble on

“I mean it’s all just speculations Y/N” he says smiling at me

“I know sir, but is there any way I can get your research on this town so I can study it a bit more? I plan on building a whole case for this and figuring it out” I pleaded

“You’re really interested in this aren’t you?” He asks opening his bag up

“I really am Professor Wayne” I say back

“Here, but listen this is a tight knit community. Don’t go digging your nose where it doesn’t belong. Tread lightly this isn’t your turf, okay? In a town like that with such a small population and a dark history, you don’t want any enemies” he says handing me the folder titled “Pleasant Town”

“Yes, and thank you sir” I stated nodding my head

After that I finished my final semester two months later in May. Between work and classes I built up more of a file on this town jumping from a folder to two binders stacked with information.

Two days after my graduation I did some research on the town. This place had no hotels, no motels and for sure no air bnbs. That’s where I ran into my first problem, attempting to find a place to stay.

Searching on Zillow I had found a house for rent. In the middle of nowhere. One gravel road and corn fields. From the pictures it did seem there were few houses across and next to it, so I figured that was perfect. I'd make friends with neighbors.

I mean the house was decent for the area. Seemed to be a two bedroom two bathroom house. The bedrooms upstairs, one bathroom down stairs and one upstairs. Had a pretty average sized kitchen in the back of the house, a dining room to the right of the front door, a living room to the left of the front door, the stairs faced the front door, and then there were small hallways that lead to the kitchen. And there was a basement that seemed small, well kept and empty. It sucks to say I actually liked the place

My second problem began when I called the realtor a very old southern man by the name of Beaufort Smithson. I dialed him that morning and from the moment he heard my accent he seemed to turn a cold shoulder.

“Please sir” I pleaded with him

“Listen ma’am you sound young and not from these parts. What bring someone like you around this small town” he states deeply

“Well I’m from Nevada and it’s just so crazy here and I’ve been looking to stay somewhere a few states away that’s quiet and small” I state

“But you’re looking to rent from June 1st to August 31st…. We do 7 month rentals” he says bluntly

“Well I want to see it I like it first” I say lying through my teeth

“Can’t you see from the pictures if you like it or not” he says sucking on his tobacco tucked in his lip

“I can have the full rent for those three months ready for you in cash” I state desperately

“In cash you say” he says as I hear his chair squeak from underneath him

God these people really were money hungry till this day…

“Yes sir $800 a month for 3 months I can get you that $2,400 in cash June 1st” I state

“Well little lady you have yourself a deal. Now get yourself a pen and paper and jot this down. June 1st 12 in the afternoon we’re going to meet at the gas station in Pleasant Town” he states spitting his tobacco into a styrofoam cup

“Uhhh what gas station is that sir?” I ask as the pen dangled in my hand

“Sweetie we only got one gas station down yonder….you can’t miss it” he says chuckling

“Right…. Well thank you Mr. Smithson, my names Y/N Y/L/N, and I’ll be seeing you on June 1st” I state

“Well alright darling see you then” he says chuckling

“Oh by the way I look like-“ but I was cut off

“Oh trust me I’ll know what you look like…..safe travels” he whispers before hanging the phone up on me

That phone call made me slightly regret my choices of spending my summer with some shit kickers than on the Las Vegas strip…..

I spent the last two and a half weeks packing, purchasing what I know I won’t find in Oklahoma and doing more research.

I think I was on page 4,000 on google before I found a new article with information I hadn’t seen before. I placed my plate of pizza down as my eyes scanned the laptop screen quickly.

It was a newspaper clipping dating back to the year 1953. Only 70 years ago…. Interesting. The title stated “Farm owner questioned in the massive slaying of all his animals” my brows furrowed.

There’s no possible way that 70 years ago these cult killings continued? But my fingers scrolled down further as I began to whisper

“Confused and angry farm owner, Thomas Sturniolo was seen today yelling at cops as he was taken out of his small Pleasant Town home. After all his farm animals died and weird things happened around town he was suspected of killing his animals in a weird cult-like way. Demanding he be let loose, and that the town was crazy and out to get him because he is the wealthiest farmer. Insisting his competition killed his livestock and not him.”

My eyes couldn’t believe what I was reading…this was pretty recent honestly. This was happening around the time my grandparents were young children… I printed those news clippings out along with many other clippings of his arrest, his release and his disappearance…..

Adding them to my binder as I finished my pizza. This was so insane to me, and this would make a great conversation with professor Wayne after my studies.

I opened up my email and decided to email my professor.

Hello Professor Wayne! I hope your summer treats you well. In about three days I am off to study the lost town of Pleasant Town Oklahoma. That folder of information you gave me has grown into two large binders, and I found more information today. Down below you’ll find links to news articles dating back to the 50’s about weird cult animal killings! I think you’d find it fascinating! I’d like to update you here and there through my three month stay, and then maybe when I get back we can discuss all my findings over lunch! Thank you for your time! Hope to talk to you soon. -Sincerely, Y/N Y/L/N

Two days later I was all packed up into my car. About four large luggage and two duffel bags…. I was well prepared to say the least. Saying bye to my family and friends I began my venture to Pleasant Town.

My venture was a full day, and I made sure I counted for gas breaks, nap breaks and food breaks to make sure I got to Mr. Smithson at 12 on the dot.

June 1st 11:25 am- 35 min ETA Pleasant Town Gas Station

I was coming across the entrance to the town. I was jamming out to SZA, bobbing my head I looked over to my right smiling as I read the sign

“Welcome to Helltown….once you get in you’ll never get out!” It read

My smiled dropped, I snatched my sunglasses off my face and turned the radio down….. a cold sweat began to form on my back as I looked in the rear view mirror

What the fuck was that? I was becoming increasingly anxious and wondered if I just made the worst mistake of my life. I rubbed my lips together in anxiety as I gripped onto the steering wheel harder.

I chose to shake it off, there has to be a logical explanation for this I thought to myself. Putting my sunglasses back on, I turned my music up a little bit and continued down the silent road.

My map told me 1 minute, and slowly I pulled up to a very old and very dusty gas station. Coming to a stop as the gravel left a smoke trail ahead of my car.

I put the car in park and hopped out, stretching my back and cracking my neck. Suddenly an old man hopped out of his large red truck. Spitting tobacco on the ground as he waddled over

“You, young lady must be Y/N?” He asks as he sucks the tobacco

“Yes sir I am” I state as I smile and place my hand out to shake his

Looking down as he smacks his lips, he firmly shakes my hands.

“Good to met ya, welcome to Pleasant Town” he states coughing

“Thank you Mr. Smithson” I state smiling once again

“Well uhh” he states smiling at me

“Oh right” I say, eyes going wide as I walk over to the passenger side. Grabbing the envelope with all the money in it.

“Here you go, $2,400 cash” I state handing the envelope over to him

He grabs the envelope and takes the money out, beginning to count it

“300,400,500-“ he says flying through the money

“Uhh what’s with the welcome sign saying welcome to Helltown? Once you get in you’ll never get out?” I ask pointing over my shoulder

He immediately stops counting, sucks his teeth and looks up at me through his lashes

“Idiot teenagers who have nothing better to do than destroy property that isn’t theirs” he states as he goes back to counting

“Oh…” I state rocking back and forth on my heels

“Alright it’s all here! Thank you sweetheart. I’ll drive you to your house just follow behind me” he states stuffing the money back in the envelope

“Thank you sir” I state as he turns and walks back to his truck

I hop in mine and wait for him to go, following closely behind him I take in the surroundings. Trees, dirty roads, corn fields, farm houses, large stacks of hay and pretty decent sized homes. They were just super outdated.

It was only about a 15 minute drive, but man it felt like forever. I’d hate to get stuck with no gas on a road like this.

Pulling up to the house he pulls onto the gravel driveway as I do too. We both hop out and we walk towards the house. We walk up the steps and wait on the front porch as he digs around for the keys.

Looking around I take in the surroundings, there’s quite a bit of farms around here…. My thoughts are interrupted when he finds the keys and opens the door. Allowing me to walk in first

“I had my crew clean up the place for you” he states shutting the door

“Oh, do you own a cleaning company?” I ask looking at him

“No.. I get these young boys out here to do what needs to be done around these parts” he states bluntly

“Oh the young teenagers who mess around” I say laughing

“No, I send those boys to work the corn fields…. The older men do the hard work round here. The cleaning, the lifting, the shootin” he says sucking the tobacco

“Shooting?” I ask as I turn to face him

“Yup they shoot the ones for my man down under” he states looking me dead in my eyes

“What?” I ask as I began to get nervous

“Oh I’m sorry sweetheart I must be confusing you, you see my dad loved to hunt but he’s too old now and lives in my basement. He has me send out the young men to shoot for him and bring him back some animals” he states chuckling

“Ohhhh yeah” I say laughing awkwardly

“Well young lady this is your home now” he says handing me the keys.

“Thank you” I say meekly

“You got your dining room, living room, and kitchen all down here fully furnished as you can see. Bathroom down here one upstairs and both bedrooms upstairs. Oh uhh I’d suggest food shopping early in the day, you don’t want to be out late at night around here….that is due to the wild animals of course like bears and coyotes” he states looking at me

“Of course” I say nodding politely

“Make sure you lock your doors at night. Especially the back door….. animals in the kitchen are never a good thing” he says turning around to head to the front door

“Got it” I state

“And uhhh we’re a family here….youre house is my home….or whatever the saying is….my house is your house….ah you know what I mean” he says shaking his head

We bid our goodbye and I watched him drive off. My hairs on the back of my neck are standing up. This whole conversation was making me nervous and uneasy. One other thing I realized was I’d be having no WiFi here. However my phone had 5G and the service wasn’t awful here shockingly….. I immediately sent an email back to Professor Wayne

“Just got here! The house is actually super nice. It's very historical and artsy. The realtor is a total creep though. His name is Beaufort so that explains a lot! He said some weird things and made weird analogies. Making it seem like beyond the naked eye there’s more to this town…. I’ll keep you posted”

I hit send and slid my phone back into my pocket. I placed the keys in my front pocket and walked outside. The warm sun kissed my skin as I squinted. Walking over to my car I popped the trunk and began to take my luggage’s out.

Suddenly I felt like there were eyes on me. The way the area got super quiet. So quiet you could hear a pin drop. I looked over my shoulder in the least scared way possible. There was nobody there. I rubbed my forehead and let out a breath.

“Y/N relax” I whispered to myself as I took my last luggage out

However unbeknownst to Y/N, she was in fact being watched. A young man on the second floor of his parents house. He stood in his room peering at the young woman through his sheer curtains.

His gaze was dull as he stared out the window, sweat trickled down his forehead, his mouth hung open slightly and his breathing became deep. His fingers swirled and tugged at his red flannel.

She was like out of a movie. He had never seen a woman like that down here. Those are the ones his mom warned him about. The type who didn’t like boys like him, the type he should….hate. However when he looked at her he couldn’t hate her….she seemed precious….precious just like his horse Bertha.

“Young Man! What did I tell you about standing at that window” he heard from behind him, he jilted and turned around

“I’m sorry mama…I wasn’t doin nuffin” he states as he looks at her

“It is not polite to stare at people you aren’t a child anymore. You don’t do that” she says to him

“I wasn’t looking I swear” he says with pleading eyes

“Well you go on now. Your father and I are leaving for the afternoon” she says to the boy

After his mom leaves he pears out his window again. The young woman had stopped to talk on the phone. He was so fascinated by her he simply couldn’t look away.

I hung up the phone after saying bye to my mom and pulled out my second luggage. Rolling it into my house and coming back out to get my third luggage. I huffed out a breath of air and wiped the sweat off my forehead

I leaned over to get the third luggage but it was stuck on something. I sucked my teeth and began to tug on the handle harder.

“Need a hand ma’am?” I heard from behind me

“OH SHIT” I yelled turning around and grabbing my heart

“Oh im sorry darling I didn’t mean to scare you” the young man states backing up a bit

“No it’s okay, I’m new to town so I’m a bit jumpy” I state shaking my head

“My apologies for sneaking up behind you, may I help you?” He asks looking at my trunk

“Yeah please that would be great” I say smiling as I tried to control my breathing

The young man grabs both of my luggages for me and I grab my duffel bags. We walk to the house and he leads the way to my other two luggage’s.

“Thank you so much” I say placing my bags on the couch

“My pleasure sweetheart” he says nodding his head

“I’m Y/N” I say sticking my hand out

“I’m Matthew, but I go by Matt” he says wiping his forehead with the inside of his shirt. The shirt lifted just enough for me to get a perfect view of his lower stomach.

Damn…why were the shit kickers in a creepy town always so hot…. I guess the movies aren’t wrong..

“Well Matt thank you once again, can I offer you some water?” I ask him

“Water would be nice” he says smiling a bright smile

We walked to the kitchen and I found some old glasses left behind. I rinsed it with water and then gave him some water from the sink.

He drank the full cup, allowing the water to dribble down his chin and to his neck. My gaze ever so slightly following the head of water.

“So, what brings you to this part of town darling?” He asks, his accent so thick I couldn’t even focus

“I come from a busy town and I’ve always wanted to move to a small rural area. Pleasant Town seemed just right” I state licking my lips

“Once you see what this towns like you’ll go running for the hills” he says smirking darkly

“What do you mean by that?” I asked clearing my throat

“Well we hunt, we drink beer til we’re piss drunk and race in old cars for fun, we sneak into farms at night and tip over the sleeping cows…. Amongst many other things” he states handing the glass back over to me

“Oh that’s nothing compared to where I’m from” I say placing the glass in the sink

“And that is?” He asks crossing his legs as he leaned against the wall

“Las Vegas Nevada” I state nodding

“Never been” he states

“You should visit one day” I say

“If I ever leave this town” he states swallowing thickly

“If you ever leave?” I question once again

“Well you know this place is home I don’t know how I’d do in a big place like that” he says smiling at me

“I suppose you guys are pretty far behind on a lot” I say giggling

“Oh trust me aren’t we all” he says kicking himself off the wall

“Well uh thank you so much Matt I don’t mean to keep you” I say to him as I begin to walk out the kitchen

“Oh no worries darlin” he says as he follows behind me his thick cowboy boots hitting the wood in all the right places

He opened my front door and began to head out

“I’ll see you around neighbor” I state to him

“See you around, oh and if you ever feel like there’s eyes on you….that's because there is….you know small town haha we can’t escape each other” he says coldly before adding a laugh at the end

“Right…right” I state smiling at him and blinking quickly

I watch him walk across the street and head into the home. I lock my car doors and shut my front door. Locking the door before walking to the kitchen back door, locking that one as well.

I spent the rest of the day sweeping up, cleaning and setting up my room. I hadn’t realized how late it gotten or how hungry I was till my stomach growling woke me up from a small Power Nap.

I got up and realized it was 8pm, I wasn’t sure what food stores would be open, but it was worth the try. Ignoring the warning not to go out at night I grabbed my house keys and car keys.

Locking the front door, I got into my car. Turning it on I put it in reverse. I looked over my right shoulder and when I went to look over my left Matt was there and had banged on my window.

I jumped out of my skin and hit the breaks. Rolling my window down I was breathing heavy

“Sorry sweetie” he says as he looks down at me

“Is there something I can do for you?” I asked him genuinely curious

“Oh me? No no, but you, you shouldn’t be out at this hour” he states

“It’s 8pm though?” I say furrowing my brows

“Yeah well the bears and coyotes come out this time” he says tapping the hood of my car

“I’m just running to the local store” I say

“You shouldn’t be out at this hour” he says again a bit firmer

“Umm okay” I say to him, remember what Professor Wayne said “no enemies this isn’t my turf”

I placed the car back in park and got out. Shutting the door and locking it I looked at Matt, a shot gun in his right hand as my eyes darted up.

“Don’t worry darling this ain’t nothing special. I use this to hunt” he says to me as he moves the gun back a bit

“For uhh Mr. Smithson’s dad?” I ask as my eyes slowly track up to his

“Oh no I do a different type of hunting for him” he says clearing his throat

“Do you now” I say rocking on my heels

“I get the animals causing issues for us here, the ones eating up all our crops. We can’t have those round these parts” he states chuckling

“Yeah…yeah bad for business. I’m going to head in for the night then” I say pointing behind myself

“Well alright now! You have a great night” he says in a whisper while offering me a smile

I smile back before turning in my heels and heading back into the house. Locking the door immediately as I run up the stairs.

I decided to shower and eat some leftover snacks. By this point it was midnight and I decided to brush my teeth so I could lay down for the night.

Shutting the bathroom light off I walk into my dark room using the brightness of my screen to lead me to my bed. Shutting my bedroom door behind me I trot over to my bed. However something in my peripheral view catches my eye.

Through the little dent in the Venetian blinds I see a light on in the house across the street from me. Slowly walking over to the window I peak out the small dent and look across the street.

All I can see is the silhouette of a skinny man with a shotgun in hand standing at the window. Almost like he’s staring out the window….

Suddenly he slides out of view and the light goes out, but I stay looking and I get an uneasy feeling. It’s like he’s still by the window…hiding in the shadows…watching….waiting….

I scared myself by doing this, so I backed away from the window and decided to lay down. Listening to my heart thump in my ears as I focused on controlling my breathing. My mind was racing because I was so nervous about this town and whether or not I made the right decision…..

I attempted to clear my mind and doze off to sleep. I knew I had a full day of adventures the following day especially since I needed to find a supermarket of some sort here!

The End…. For now

Alright guys I know I’ve been GONE, but it feels good to be back! I hope you enjoyed this part. Can’t wait to start working on part 2 shortly 🤭🖤 we’re at 2,009 followers! I love yall soooo much 🥺

-J💅🏽

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets imagines #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo imagines #matthew sturniolo imagines #Spotify

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thatanimeramenchick · 26 days

Text

Yandere Lucifer x Human Sacrifice Reader Pt. 2

Part One

Word count: 2,755

Originally requested by @hazbinlove

---

Your body was still suffering from your injuries when you awoke two days later. While not as intense as before, you could still feel that itching, burning feeling down your entire chest, which was now wrapped in gauze. You were in a soft bed, mind still reeling a little from everything that had happened. If it wasn’t for how sensitive your entire body still felt, you would have written the whole experience off as an ugly nightmare. Yet here you were, somehow still alive. Your first thought was that you must be in the hospital, but the room looked more like a nice apartment room, in line with a hotel suite. Someone must have found you half dead outside after the attack. That odd angelic figure you had seen, it must have been a dream.

That was what you thought as you lay in your uncomfortable position. Not too much longer later, the door opens, and in comes a man that looks vaguely familiar.

He was short, or at least shorter than most men you were accustomed to seeing. He had a

“You’re awake!” he said.

He came into the room, holding a tray filled with breakfast food. You felt your stomach rumble as you saw that is had chocolate covered croissants and a bowl of fruit that looked delicious.

“… who are you?” you asked.

“Oh, I suppose I should introduce myself. I’m Lucifer,” he said.

“You’re… Lucifer?” you said, shocked.

Instinctively, you try to inch away as this sinks in your mind, but you don’t make it very far, only succeeding in wincing in discomfort. Your body was still fragile from the attack.

“Not what you were expecting?” he asked, with a small smile.

A feeling of fear stirred inside your stomach. This had to be a mistake. A trap. There was no way that this was actually the devil. Unless…

“Am I dead?”

“Dead? Oh, no, quite the opposite!” he said, “Somehow, despite everything that happened to you, your soul is still inside its original body. You’re alive.”

“Then why am I with you?” you asked, hoping that the horror you felt wasn’t too apparent in your voice and face.

“Well I couldn’t very well just leave you out there,” he said, “You were basically being tortured like that. You could have lost your mind that way, repeatedly dying and regenerating.”

You just stared at him in stunned silence for a minute. As you stare at him, you feel your memory aligning with the sight in front of you. You hardly remembered the sight you had seen, you had been in so much pain, but you had seen flashes of flame. A white, red, and gold figure, with an unnaturally eerie light. Was it really possible?

“How do you know about my… thing?” you finally ask.

“Well, the unasked for human “sacrifices” usually don’t survive that kind of stabbing. It seems that someone has put a spell on you,” he said, “It’s a seal of protection. No matter what happens to you, you eventually regenerate. Your body will heal any fatal injury, though, it appears that there are some remnants of the attack. Whoever cast it must not have had a lot of experience and didn’t really know what they were doing.”

The memories of your mothers tear filled yet hopeful eyes rushed back into your mind. Had she…?

“Is there a way to reverse it?” you asked.

“I’m not sure,” he said, “I suppose I would have to look through my grimoires, but it may take some time for me to look.”

He looks at you thoughtfully.

“You sure you want me to reverse it?” he said, “Most humans would kill to live on earth forever.”

“No. I haven’t even been alive that long, and I already know I never want to experience coming back to life after I die again,” you said.

He puts the tray down next to you on the bed.

“Understandable. I’ve had my own fair share of accidents and long recoveries,” he said, “I know from experience it can be quite unpleasant.”

As if to prove his point, you grimace as you sit up a bit more to eat. Your entire chest feels like it will rip back open if you’re not careful.

“I think you should stay here for a little while,” he said, fingers nearing your face. He stops just short of touching you though as he sees you tense, eventually drawing his hand away and behind his back. An awkward silence permeates the room.

“Anyway, you need time to properly recover after everything that has happened to you,” he said, “Get some proper rest. I’ll leave you to that.”

With that he walks out, closing the door. You glance at the food on the tray, which looked like chocolate dipped croissants.

---

“I have a little surprise for you.”

You had been bored as you slowly healed. After about a week and a half, you were able to get out of bed, but there wasn’t too much to do. Your “nurse” had provided you with some books to read and puzzles, but other than that, there wasn’t much to do but rest. Though, considering how tired the attack had made you, you supposed you shouldn’t be complaining that much. You were feeling much better now, and the dullness was setting in.

Today though, Lucifer had a certain look in his eyes as he sat on the edge of your bed. He closed his hands together. As he opened them, smoke pealed and a black cat curled out. The pretty little thing which slinked onto the bed and kneaded its paws on the soft fabric. You offer a smile at his attempts to cheer you up. You had to admit that there was a certain charm about him.

“You created that?” you asked.

“Well, technically no,” he said, “I can’t make anything out of nothing. But I may have borrowed him from somewhere else.”

He absently stroked the animal. Squirming a bit, your mind raced. He seemed to be in a decent mood. You had wanted to broach a certain topic in the last day or two, but you weren’t really sure how. You didn’t want to come across as ungrateful and upset him, but he seemed to be in a good mood. Perhaps now was the time.

“Um… so, I’m doing a lot better now,” you said.

“You are,” he said.

“And… I was wondering what you thought about me going back,” you said, “I think I’d be ok.”

He doesn’t say anything for a long moment. Unable to handle the awkward silence, you start babbling, rushing words out.

“I think I’d be able to handle it,” you said, “I can walk and take care of myself again. Thank you for all of your help, but I don’t want to bother you any longer.”

“You’re not bothering me at all,” he said, “I wouldn’t worry about that. Besides, I think it’s in your best interest that you stay somewhere where your safe.”

“Yes, but I can’t stay in here forever,” you said, “I don’t belong in here.”

While you had to admit he had been an attentive caretaker, you were tired of seeing the same four walls all the time. You needed to get out of here.

“…Perhaps not,” he said finally looking at you, eyes serious, “But I know that if I let you out of this building, some demon or other will get their hands on you and kill you. Or at least attempt to. And trust me, with the kind of sickos that end up down here, you do not want to end up in the wrong hands with an ability like that and no way to defend yourself. That will not be a fun time for you.”

“Er… I don’t mean out there. Can’t you just bring me back to the surface?” you ask.

He is again quiet for a long moment, a look on his face that you can’t quite place. He drums his fingers against his cane for a minute before sighing.

“Do you truly want to go back though?” he said, “You really think that’s a good idea? I mean, look what they did to you!”

He finally looks at you and waves his hand as if to dismiss your unspoken pleas, suddenly animated.

“You think no ones going to try something like this again?” he said, “That if that group finds out you survived, they’re going to be all huncky dory about it? That maybe they’ll just go ‘Oh, wowy, our little sacrifice went wrong. That’s a shame, let’s try a goat this time!’”

“Not all humans are bad,” you protest, “Plenty of us are good. I mean, you like me well enough.”

He scoffs at your words.

“Sure, I suppose some humans won’t try to take advantage of you, but just like down here, if the wrong one finds out about this little… gift of yours, and your best days on earth will rival some of the worst ones down here! Even well meaning humans might want to dissect you to find a futile way to live on earth forever,” he said.

“So what, you just want me to stay here forever?” you said, trying not to sound hysterical, “In fucking hell?”

“I mean, it’s really not so bad down here, as long as you’re with the right people,” he said, “And you couldn’t have better company. Eh?” You swear you hear a horn honk as he winks at you and shakes his elbow.

His attempt at joking optimism falls flat, with the horn sound making it only seem pathetic. The disappointment you feel must be showing on your face as he eventually sighs again and looks at you with condescending pity. It was the patronizing gaze an adult may give a child who is upset that they can’t have ice cream for dinner or an owner would give a pet that wants to jump out of a moving car.

Silly little thing. I’m sorry you’re so angry, but this is for your own good.

“I’m not a child,” you finally say, which only causes him to chuckle softly.

“No, you are not a child. It’s simply that I’m thousands of years old, and you’re what? In your mid-twenties, I would guess. It’s not as if I have more experience with the world or how humans work,” he said.

You glare at him.

“What? Don’t look at me like that! You know it’s true,” he said, “People with something special to offer tend to only attract the worst kinds of attention. Trust me, I know.”

“And I’m supposed to expect that your intentions are pure?” you said, before you could think better of it.

Rather than anger though, his face contorts to one of hurt.

“F/N, I’m sorry if I’ve ever done anything to give you the impression that I want anything from you,” he said, moving closer to you and resting his hand on yours, “I know you’re not thrilled about this situation, but you were left for dead as a sacrifice. I couldn’t have just let you suffer, it wouldn’t have been right. It’s only proper that I take responsibility for what happened to you.”

You just continue to glare at him, but a part of you hears a degree of reason in his words. You feel some guilt tighten in your chest. Perhaps you were being unreasonable. This only makes you angrier though, at him and yourself. You don’t want to concede to him.

“I just don’t want anything to happen to you,” he said, “I know what it means to go one and on forever, and there are things that are much, much worse than death. Trust me.”

He’s moved so close to you now that your noses almost touch.

“Please try to understand. I’m doing this because I truly care for you. I would hate it if something happened to you,” he said.

As he speaks, he traces the edge of your chin with his fingers, and you suppress the natural urge you have to pull away. No aggression is in his eyes, only a certain pity and tenderness. He stares into your eyes like this for a moment before unexpectedly, gently and softly, he presses his lips to yours.

Wait, what?

It’s so unexpected that you freeze up in a sort of shock. You don’t even push him off of you, just hold still as he caresses your mouth with his own. Seeming encouraged that you haven’t pulled away, he moves his hand from your chin to your hair, stroking it and guiding it closer to him. It feels… pleasant. Nice. You hadn’t noticed, but at some point he had brought his other hand to your side and was slowly drawing it up your stomach, up to the side of your breast, not touching anything too intimately. Somehow, this felt more forbidden than if he had touched you more sensually. Slowly, you allow yourself to open your mouth, as if to deepen the kiss, and your fingers reach up to his shirt and rest against his chest.

Until you remember that you’re kissing the literal devil.

When that sinks in, you shudder and wretch your face away from him. He looks surprised, but allows you to do so.

“What are you doing?!” you screech.

“Um…”

“What on earth?” you cry out, horrified, “Why did you do that?!”

He looks a bit baffled for a second, “Did you not like it?”

“Yes! I mean, no! I mean- I-I… Don’t do that again!” you said, “I didn’t like it.”

“… All right,” he said, “If you say so.”

You feel your face heat up as you break eye contact for a second, and while he moves away a little, as if to respect your space, you catch a bit of a satisfied light in his eyes at your blushing.

–-

Lucifer ignored the pang of guilt in his gut. It was easy to squish, like an ant beneath his outstretched finger. There for just a second, and then crushed with no hope of resurrecting. He’d had plenty of practice ignoring the things he didn’t want to pay attention to, and this was no different.

You were so naive. To anyone with a hint of demonic knowledge, they would know it would be quite easy for him to remove the spell. With a few exceptions, nearly every curse that was cast could be reversed one way or another, and yours was no different. It would be child’s play for him to remove the spell and return you to your home. He was the king of hell after all.

You didn’t need to know that though.

So long he had lived life alone. He and Lilith had parted ways long ago, and he hadn’t really found anyone else. The hellborn, while at times enticing, lived short lives compared to what he had. They weren’t eternal, and they often fell under the influence of the sinners. Too many times a well meaning demon had been led on a less than savory path.

Even without that problem though, connection was so difficult for him. There was a part of him that almost seemed to disassociate whenever he was around others, even those he cared about. Yet here, with you, things were so easy. You had been literally handed to him as a gift, and your helpless ingenue personality had rekindled the softer, more romantic side of him. Perhaps he was being selfish, keeping you like this, but it wasn’t as if he couldn’t recompense for whatever frustrations you were feeling.

Though for now you claimed that you didn’t like him, he could see the embarrassed desire in your eyes. Not that he would humiliate you for it. He would draw that desire out from you until it flowed from you as naturally as a river flows downstream. Already you were kissing him back, even if a bit shyly, and at this rate he was sure that he would soon have you acquiescing to more intimate expressions of his affection.

Yes, you were a little peeved now, but you’d get over it. It wasn’t as if you really knew what you wanted anyway. Humans were so difficult. Give them free will and let them do what they think they want, and they still screw it all up. They were so foolish, falling for delusions and falsehoods so easily. He couldn’t let that happen with you.

#yandere lucifer morningstar #yandere x reader #hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #yandere lucifer

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monsterrae1 · 2 months

Text

the devil's on the details

8.6k | mature | read on ao3

Summary:

“What the fu-fudge?” The demon said, blinking away his black eyes, and staring at Eddie confusedly now with light blue ones “You have a kid in the room? What’s wrong with you? You’re not gonna sacrifice him to me, are you?” the demon rambled on, and Eddie found himself having a bit of a hard time following him. “What?” He said, “That’s my son, of course I’m not sacrificing him to you!” Eddie reached his hands back, to make sure that Chris was still safely there, the demon hadn’t made a move to get close to them yet, but Eddie was ready to take him and run at any moment’s notice. “You’re the one who summoned me with your son in the room!” Eddie groaned “You’re not supposed to be real!” He yelled, “I did this to show him that demons weren’t real so he could go to sleep!” The demon stared at them, blinking owlishly, looking far too human for Eddie’s liking.

Or, Eddie accidentally summons a crossroads demon who won't leave him alone until he signs his soul away. It's all tiktoks fault.

Based on this prompt by @promptabuddie

#my fics #buddie #buddie fic #demon buck au is seeing the light of day everyone clap #my writing

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apomaro-mellow · 10 months

Text

Demon!Eddie 1

Steve woke up to someone moving about the room. He wondered why someone was in his room before last night’s events caught up with him. Maybe if he kept his eyes closed, it never happened. Eventually he’d find himself in his own house with parents that were just disappointed in him, not psycho cultists.

“Rise and shine Sleeping Beauty. I slaved over a hot stove for your breakfast. Come and get it.”

With a groan, Steve finally opened his eyes. In the light of the morning, he saw that the walls of the bedroom were covered with posters of people he didn’t know. A gray t-shirt and some sweatpants had been placed next to him. Eddie was nowhere to be seen.

Steve closed the door before undressing. He checked his palms again. Any sign that he had been sliced was gone. But his shirt was still ripped and there was still dried blood on his stomach. God, maybe he should’ve taken that shower after all.

He put the new set of clothes on anyway and left the bedroom. It took about one and half steps to get to the kitchen, where Eddie was sitting with some cereal and milk.

“Slaved over a hot stove, huh?”

“I turned the stove on for the coffee”, Eddie said cheekily.

Steve was distracted from the quip by the large soup pot of black coffee sitting on the stove. This man might really be the devil.

“Soooo”, he sat down across from Eddie, trying to ignore the warning bells. “What’s next?”

“That’s all up to you, remember?” Eddie pushed and empty bowl towards him, along with the box of cereal. “So what does freedom look like to Steve Harrington?”

He thought about the choices his parents had given him before. For his room, blue or green. For his major, business or law. They had always told him it was his choice before giving a very limited set of options.

“I...don’t know. I’ve never had this much freedom before.”

“Well, let’s start with something simple. Cereal or milk first?”

Steve’s expression pinched. “In my bowl? Cereal first, duh.” He grabbed the box and began to pour it.

“Aah, but what if milk is the main event for me and I simply want a crunchy garnish on top?”, Eddie grinned.

“I’d like to assume you’re being sarcastic but after seeing the way you make coffee I’m just not sure.”

“What’s wrong with the way I make coffee?”

Steve looked again to the pot. He wasn’t even a big coffee drinker, but sometimes the way a person did things told you so much about them. “Who raised you?”

“Technically? Your little country club did. Been a while since someone used that summoning spell.”

“Is that how it normally goes?”, Steve asked. “You just show up, burn a few folks, and then make off with the sacrifice?”

Eddie tapped Steve’s bowl with his spoon. “Don’t let it get soggy. And to answer your question, it depends on the wish and what they give up for it.”

“They’ve been worshipping you for...years I guess. Why did you betray them?”

“Would you rather I have taken your soul and given them what they wanted?”, Eddie asked.

“I just...don’t understand everything that happened last night.”

“The spell they used that whole thing they were chanting, it doesn’t call upon a specific demon”, Eddie began to explain. “That incantation is like dialing 911. You’re kinda rolling the dice with whatever demon picks up. And for most folks’ sake, I try to be that guy.”

“So you just go around snatching up sacrifices and leaving people with an empty bag?”

“That’s a good way of spinning it!”, Eddie cackled.

“And you let them crash here?”

“Not often. Most of the time they’re just caught in a bad group or made a wrong turn. I just give em an escape route or help them back where they’re supposed to be.”

“So I’m the first person who’s such a loser I literally have no other place to go.”

“Loser is just another way to say someone’s got a not so lucky life. And hey, it wasn’t all bad before that point right? Lavish parties, nice house, people bowing to you in hallways.” Eddie was twirling his spoon between his fingers as he spoke.

“I’d trade that for a box in an alley if I knew...if I knew they were going to do that.” Steve’s brow furrowed as he stared into his bowl.

“You could still go back. Try and mend some things, follow in dear old dad’s footsteps”, Eddie suggested.

Steve scoffed and pushed the bowl away, crossing his arms. “If they didn’t want me then, they’re not gonna want me now. And I could never be like them.”

“So you’re not going into business. What then? Health, education, entertainment?”

“Well there’s no way they’re footing the bill for tuition, which means college is out, which means my options are limited.”

“Don’t be so sure. Your wish was for freedom. And I aim to keep my promises.”

“Unless you’ve got a bunch of jobs lined up willing to take on someone with zero experience-”

“That’s it!”, Eddie snapped his fingers and then stood up. “You want experience so you can make a decision. Take a shower, make a list and then we’ll get started.”

“Started with what?”

“Job hunting!” Eddie put his empty bowl in the sink and then went through a door Steve hadn’t noticed. “Be ready when I get back!”

He shut the door and then Steve was left alone. He wasn’t any less confused than he was before. But he managed to find the bathroom, wash himself up which did make him feel much better. He found a pad of sticky notes and a marker and started to write down some jobs.

He started with the kind of jobs he had when he played pretend as a kid. Policeman, doctor, zookeeper, firefighter, astronaut. Then he started thinking about careers he had a passing fancy in as he got older. Baker, writer, teacher, military.

When Eddie came through the door again, he had a wild smile on his face and Steve had a completed list.

“Let’s have a looksie”, he said, snatching it from Steve’s hand. He gave a whistle at the various jobs. “Hope you had your coffee.”

“Yeah, I’ll pass. What’re we doing with this list anyway?”

“Steve....have you ever heard of roleplay?”

The redness in Steve’s cheeks were immediate as he looked Eddie up and down and suddenly remembered the feeling of his tongue.

“You...y-you mean where like people dress up and they um, they-”

“That’s right.” Then Eddie opened that mysterious door and Steve found himself in the middle of a precinct. “They play pretend!”, Eddie finished.

Steve looked down at himself and saw an officer’s uniform.

“You’re gonna live a day in the life until you figure out whatchu wanna do”, Eddie beamed, giving him a nudge with his shoulder.

Steve heard a clinking and saw that Eddie was handcuffed. Today was going to be a ride.

Part 3

Tag Team:

@michael-the-angelo @swimmingbirdrunningrock @flustratedcas

@estrellami-1 @weirdandabsurd42 @lololol-1234

@chaoticvictorianspirit @giopandaonice @marklee-blackmore

@blackpanzy @kacatshi

#apo writes #fanfiction #steddie #stranger things #kinda a short transitional chapter #bf we get back to the meat of it

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thedreamlessnights · 4 months

Text

Give The Devil His Due - pt. 1

Gale x F!Reader

Warnings and Tags: Major BG3 Ending and Epilogue Spoilers. Mentions of death, the use of the Netherese orb, grieving/loss. Deal with a Devil. Angst with a happy ending.

Synopsis: After Gale sacrifices himself to save Faerûn, his soul resides in a place out of reach of mortal magic. Not out of reach of immortal magic, though.

Word Count: 2.8k

It’s not like you to linger at the edge of a party, and - gods. Especially not one like this.

In every respect, this night should be fantastic. Friends are all around, there's wine and lively music, and you’re the closest thing to happy that you’ve been in the last six months.

Yet here you are, hovering on the sidelines, feeling like there’s a hole cut into your chest. No, this isn’t much like you, but you haven’t truly been yourself since the day you lost Gale.

He should be here, you keep thinking. He should be at your side, making awful puns, looking handsome as ever. Missing him is a constant, now, but the pain has flared into agony tonight. It feels like it’s splitting you in two. You can barely stomach the wine.

You’ve done your dues, of course. Greeted your companions, hugged your fair share, and talked briefly about life. Still, the pity in everyone’s eyes had felt like salt in your very open wound, and now you don’t trust yourself to make conversation without crying.

Which leaves you to wander around with your wine, trying not to feel like every bit of this familiar camp is a dagger between your ribs. Judging by the way you can’t seem to breathe, it doesn’t seem to be working.

And then, mid-sip of wine, you look up and there he is. Gale of Waterdeep, with Tara at his side.

You’re no stranger to these hallucinations; you’ve experienced them nearly every day since his sacrifice. A flash of Gale in the crowds, a hint of his face in strangers, the ghostly feeling of him pressed against you on the coldest nights.

But those had been different. In your previous sightings, he’d vanished just as soon as he’d appeared. This Gale is here, standing off to the side of Withers’ party, flickering with magic. No matter how many times you shut your eyes, he’s still there when you open them again.

It isn’t him. You know it isn’t. You’ve seen his magical projections before. Still, Gale must have made this. And, aside from the glowing eyes and outline, it’s a dead-on replication of him. Having one of his creations so near, so very like him, is enough of Gale’s presence to make your knees feel weak.

When you approach, the form speaks. You barely hear it. Your hands are shaking so badly that your wine sloshes out of the glass and onto your clothing. You finally let it fall, not sparing as much as a glance toward it, even when you feel it splash against your boots.

Gale, or this image of him, is your sole focus. Everything else, stains included, is irrelevant.

“I am a magical projection of Gale of Waterdeep,” the false Gale is saying. It takes a moment for you to process the distorted tone, the muffled voice you remember so very well.

A projection. Just as you’d known.

“If you see this manifestation,” he continues, “that means I have prematurely perished.”

You know this spiel, too. You’d seen it after a terrible moment where Gale had died post-ambush in the Shadowlands. It had given a complicated set of instructions to revive him. You’d know this speech in your sleep.

The next words are different from the usual, though.

“Alas, on this occasion, I appear to have been erased from this plane in both soul and substance, so the usual protocol for revivification cannot be followed.”

Something twists internally. Painful. Sharp. Not that you’d had any hope, but… hearing it is like this so much worse. You swallow hard, suddenly wishing you hadn’t dropped your wine, but the damned thing is still talking.

“I am, however,” the projection continues, “available for the duration of this spell to assist with the tying of any loose ends related to my recent departure from mortality.”

Those words feel like a harsh kick to the ribs. Gale is dead, and what he’d left behind is insurmountable grief, not loose ends. The weight in your chest is loss, not something that can be mended by a quick word or brief spell.

And yet, your mouth moves of its own accord. “Revivification?” you find yourself asking. Anything to hear more of his voice, even marred as it is.

“Indeed,” he replies. “A series of elegantly designed failsafes to be executed in order to reverse the occurrence of my unexpected but impermanent demise.”

The mild taste in your mind sours. Gale’s death had been unexpected, yes. But not impermanent. You know that. Still, you nod as he further explains, clinging on to every trace, every syllable, every detail of him.

He goes on: “As I am unable to detect any trace of my existence in reach of mortal magic, however, such a protocol would in this instance be destined to fail.”

But of course. Mortal magic. Surely Mystra could bring him back if she wanted to, but his death is far too convenient for her, isn't it? To have Gale out of her mind, no longer nagging her?

You can't think of a single thing to say in response that isn't plain cruel.

The projection pauses at your silence, then proceeds on. “The good news is, I am here precisely to assist in cushioning that heaviest of blows.”

You fail to bite back a laugh hearing that. It spills from your lips like tar, dark and sticky; the sound is pained, but it bubbles up through your chest all the same. It’s so like Gale, to think he’s worth so little that a mere projection could somehow aid in his loss.

The next thing the projection says, however, renders you completely and utterly speechless.

“I have been entrusted with the delivery of a letter to be read by the one who loved me most,” he announces. “I hope these words do something to ease the tragedy of my untimely and honestly quite unexpected passing.”

Gods, you think. A letter. Had Gale left something behind that you’d missed? Had he set this up in advance, knowing this might be the outcome?

The projection conjures up a pouch very similar to the one you’d seen when you’d had to revive him all that time ago, and it gently floats over to you until it’s within reach.

The moment it meets your hands, you can swear that a shiver of magic runs through your fingers. Sharp tingling, the scent of rosewater, a flash of Gale’s smile in your mind’s eye.

How could you ever have let him go? How could you, despite his insistence, have let him sacrifice himself that way? Even more than loss, you feel self-hatred. You feel regret, anger, despair.

Gale is gone. All that's left of him is the objects he’d left behind. They’re nothing at all in comparison to him.

“With that,” the projection says, interrupting your thoughts, “I’m afraid my spell is waning. Is there anything else you need of me, before I blink out of existence?”

Yes, you think. Yes, don’t go, stay here with me - even if you aren't him.

And like a complete fool, your treacherous body reaches out to this projection of him, false as he is, and tries to kiss him.

Your lips meet nothing but air. Nothing but that same shiver of magic you’d felt when touching the pouch, so undeniably Gale.

The projection stares at you for a moment, something like sadness in his eyes, and steps just the slightest bit closer. “I can see why I loved you,” he says.

With a burst of light, the projection fades into nothing but the flickering remnants of magic, shimmering in the air like stars in the deep velvet sky.

The immediate, immense grief that possesses you brings you to your knees.

After the night with the projection, two words stay with you.

Mortal magic.

Gale is beyond the reach of mortal magic. But the projection hadn't said anything about magic beyond mortal reach.

So, you do what Gale had done best: you research.

Your grief turns obsessive. You toss and turn through the nights, unable to sleep. You’ve been staying in Gale’s tower in Waterdeep, but the echoes of his presence prove too much, and you soon find a place nearby - close enough to visit when you’d like, but distanced enough to remove yourself when you need.

There’s only so many times you can listen to Morena crying for her son before it feels like it’s suffocating you.

When you finally find what you’ve been looking for - after blood and sweat and tears, bargaining, crying, pages and pages of research, and countless sleepless nights - it almost doesn't feel real.

But there’s a summoning scroll that’s warm in your hands, and it’s real enough that when you open it and read the words, the scent of cinnamon and honey fills the room. Within seconds, a familiar figure is materializing before you.

Tall. Smug. Wreathed in hellfire that slowly fades away.

“My, my,” he purrs, his gaze trailing over you from head to toe. “The Savior of Baldur’s Gate, calling my name. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Your eyes narrow. “We both know that it wasn't me who saved the city, Raphael.”

The crown’s power is so potent that you can almost see it: a flickering aura around him, present even in the curve of his cutting smile. It’s true, then. He’d fished the Netherstones out of the river and recrafted it. If Gale had been the one to wear it…

“Perhaps,” Raphael replies. “But seeing as you currently hold the title, I thought it appropriate.”

You’ve been planning this out for weeks now, but your planned speech turns to ash in your mind. “I want him back,” you say instead.

“Him?” Raphael repeats, perching his hand under his chin. “I’m afraid you’ll have to be a touch more specific-”

“Gale,” you cut in. You’re in no mood for his games. “I want Gale back. Alive.”

Poorly-masked delight crosses over the devil’s features. You doubt he’s really trying to hide it, though. “And what could you possibly offer me that I don't already possess?”

“My soul.”

Your voice shakes a little as you say it, betraying you, but you’re more sure about this than anything else. No one will miss you like Gale is missed. You have no family left behind to mourn you, no tower full of unfinished research, no tressym to ache for the warmth of your lap.

Whatever the cost, you want Gale back. With the crown, Raphael has the power to do that.

But he simply tilts his head back and laughs. “I’m afraid I’ve… outgrown those kind of deals,” he says.

A small shard of fear slices through your gut. You hadn't considered anything else, but what could you give him that’s any worse than your soul?

You fold your arms across your chest and hold his gaze, ignoring the way your eyes desperately yearn to flit away. “What do you want, then?”

“Now that is the question,” Raphael muses, holding up a hand and giving it a loose twirl. “I’ve always had a fondness for humans. Such spirit; such devotion! You’re hailed as the hero of the city, yet here you are - offering me your soul. All in exchange for someone who, if I’m not mistaken, chose to sacrifice himself.”

Red-hot anger flares in your chest. There are a thousand things you could say, but you force yourself to swallow them down. You only have one chance at this.

“Yes,” you reply softly. “The someone who made it possible for you to retrieve the Crown of Karsus.”

“True,” Raphael admits, lifting a brow. “His sacrifice was useful, I suppose.”

You wait for him to go on, but he doesn't. Instead, he sits and watches you the way a lion watches its prey. Patient. Tense. Waiting for its reward.

“Raphael-”

“I’ll... consider what you’ve said,” he interrupts, straightening up and flashing you a smile. “Until then, I suggest sitting tight. What a waste it would be for the hero of Baldur’s Gate to waste away in grief, hm?”

He snaps his fingers, and as soon as the sound has hit your ears, he's dissolving into a burst of flame. You’re left with nothing.

You’ve been left with that more often than not, lately.

What would a devil want if not a soul?

It's the question you keep pondering time and time again. Raphael had laughed at your offer, but he hadn't turned you down flat. He’d said he would consider your proposition.

You aren't even sure what it is you'd proposed.

That he bring Gale back simply because his death had allowed Raphael to access the crown? That he do you some form of favor because of his admiration for humans?

You know enough of devils to know there is always a cost, but what exactly is it? What greater offering is there than a soul?

It’s the thought that keeps you up at night as the months roll by, plagued by insomnia. What could he possibly want from you that would prove more valuable? All you can do is wait for Raphael’s return, but the waiting is agony. Whatever his response, he’s in no hurry to give it. And in the meantime, you’re still forced to live without Gale.

The one year anniversary of the city being saved is a celebration for most. For you, it marks one year from the worst day of your life. That scene still plagues you most nights. Gale, insisting he sacrifice himself. Teleporting you and the others to safety. A flash of light. The tadpole, disintegrating in your brain.

And the worst part: the emptiness afterward. Knowing he was gone. No joy. No relief. Just numbness. A neverending loss.

The days afterward were a blur. Finding his pack. Gathering his things. Giving Tara and Morena the news.

You hadn't had the strength to look at his possessions for months, and when you had, your findings had made it so much worse.

A small ring, fitted for your finger. A note, written with clumsy handwriting. Addendums scrawled on the sidelines. Phrases scribbled out, and rewritten. A rehearsal for a marriage proposal he’d never gotten to give.

Gods, the loss you’d felt. The self-hatred.

It’s unbearable. It's what you keep thinking to yourself - that all of this is so unbearable.

It’s even what you’re thinking in the middle of the library in Gale’s tower, Morena at your side and Tara at your feet, mourning your losses. The three of you are so caught up in grief that you nearly miss the swirling oval of purple light that appears in the middle of the room.

It’s unbearable. And then, as your eyes lock onto the portal, it’s suddenly not.

Purple light begins to swirl through the room. Your limbs go cold. From head to toe, electricity seems to course through you - soaking into skin, into veins, almost painful. Even before anything happens, you simply know that something is either incredibly right or incredibly wrong.

Then Gale Dekarios stumbles out of the portal as if shoved, gasping for air, his hand placed over his chest, and the room goes silent.

Your heart starts racing so fast, you’re half sure it’s going to explode. Tara lets out a yowl that could rupture an eardrum. Morena freezes in place, practically a statue, not seeming to believe what she’s seeing.

Gale is here, and alive, and seemingly unharmed.

He’s dressed in his classic purple wizard robes. His earring is in place, as always. Beautiful grey streaks in dark hair. Warm brown eyes. Almost exactly the same as he’d looked when you’d first met him.

The only thing missing is the orb in his chest.

Your body moves automatically. Your hands reach for his face and find warm skin - real Gale, your Gale - and your mouth meets his the way you’ve longed for the last year.

Against your lips, Gale lets out a soft sound of surprise. You’re so happy to see him, to touch him, that you have to fight off the urge to melt into his arms. But as soon as you’ve pulled away, you know something is wrong.

His brows are pinched together in confusion. He’s not pulling you close. And, as you stare up at him, he lets out a shaky breath. Perplexion, not relief. Not desire. Not love.

You take a small step back.

“Mr. Dekarios, surely you can do better than that,” Tara chides, perching herself on a table beside him.

“Tara?” he breathes, glancing at her. His eyes turn back to you, and it’s like your lungs won’t quite get air. “I, er - forgive me,” he starts. “Do we… know each other?”

And all at once, as your heart tears into a thousand tiny pieces, you know Raphael’s cost.

#gale x reader #gale x tav #gale x you #gale dekarios #gale bg3 #bg3 spoilers #bg3 epilogue spoilers #mywriting

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