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feyascorner · 4 months

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3 | The Fangs Between Us

summary. You hate him, you think. You want to hate him, at the very least.

“Are you afraid I’ll hurt you?” he asks, his expression indecipherable. “I didn’t realize the great savior of the city could be afraid of a mere vampire spawn.”

“You did try to strangle me last time we spoke."

warnings. angst, comfort, slow burn, reader is a bard, large chunks of italicized texts are flashbacks

pairing. Astarion x GN!Reader

parts. TFBU masterlist

a/n. redemption arc is coming i swear :) this is a whopping 4.7k i got kinda carried away but oh well,, Thank you so much for your comments on these they make my day and i appreciate each one<3

Dance upon the stars tonight

Smile and pain will fade away

“And what might our dear bard be working so passionately on?”

You look up from your notebook, ceasing the messy scribbling of lyrics into its tattered pages. Astarion perches himself beside you, the flames of the campfire flickering in the reflection of his eyes as you stop humming and raise a cautious brow. A vampire spawn. You’d never seen one in person–-only had you heard of them in your childhood tales of the spawn that would sweep away naughty children if they didn’t finish their vegetables. Up close, you can almost see his fangs protruding from the grin he's constantly wearing.

You wonder if it’s a genuine one.

“That bard at the grove today,” you recall. “Alfira? I’m trying to finish the lyrics and write them out for her.”

“Is that so? Surely you’re receiving some sort of payment for these gracious services?”

You train your eyes back onto the pages, shaking your head. “I’m doing this for fun. Her song is beautiful. It just needs—” you squint. “--adjustment.”

He laughs, and you can see the fangs clearly now. They’re sharper than you expected them to be. “I believe that’s a drastic understatement, my dear. My heart felt for those poor squirrels. I’m quite willing to bet that they have an aversion to bards now.”

“And you’re suddenly a musician yourself?”

“It doesn’t take a musician to recognize poor singing, darling Tav,” he returns. “And considering I’ve spent the past few days listening to your music, I’m sure you’ll understand why I considered it such an abomination.”

You narrow your eyes. “I thought you didn’t like me–or my music.”

“You? I'm still deciding,” he shrugs and you roll your eyes. “But I must say that I’m growing rather fond of that lyre of yours. Have you had it for long?”

You give him a sidelong glance before answering slowly. “I’ve had it for ages. Practically when I just started.”

“Explains itself then, I suppose.”

“And you?” you watch as he leans back on his palms. “Do you have any other talents to offer to our companions, or is it just your teeth?”

“Now, don’t be so cruel, dear,” he smiles wider. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re rather fond of them as well. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you staring all the time.”

“I’m on guard,” you clarify.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

You’re not sure if you can sleep with one eye open, much less both of them closed. You’re not sure if you trust him at all, either, but as he stares up at the starry sky, simply listening to the crackling of the campfire, you decide you’d rather save yourself the energy for what awaits tomorrow.

“Why did you do that earlier?” you find yourself asking, and he replies by glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

“Do what?”

“Save Wyll from that goblin arrow,” you mumble. “I thought you didn't care about any of us.”

“And what gives you that impression?”

You deadpan, staring at him with lidded eyes and he laughs out loud. It sounds more genuine than anything else he’s offered so far. It's nice.

“It’s a simple transaction, dear. One where I receive protection in turn for the occasional aid I can give with my own blade.”

You squint at him, but you see no signs of deception. So instead, you simply nod and resume scribbling into your notebook, softly humming to yourself alongside the lyrics. And when you halt, stuck on a particular lyric that you can’t seem to remember, you hear him shift, standing himself back up to retreat to his tent.

“Something about faith and care comes next if my memory serves,” is all he says before striding away. While you watch him in confusion, you click your tongue and try to focus again. And when you look down at your page, you remember the rest of the words.

Somehow, you feel the corners of your lips lift.

“As much as I’d love for this to be a charming, long-awaited reunion, one of the parties imposes a danger to the other.”

You wince at the sarcasm dripping from Gale’s voice. Duke Ravengard’s expression remains solemn, unmoving like a stone, while your companion pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “We can’t harbor a vampire spawn in our home. We’re supposed to be finding them, not keeping them!”

You hate the irony of the statement because the camp you’d spent so many months in with an uninvited guest in your head, had also been your home. One where you spent your nights in a vampire spawn’s tent. It’s not so different, you keep telling yourself. But you’re painfully aware that the Duke only knows a sugar-coated version of the falling out between you and said vampire. He doesn’t know how his son had to tear Astarion away from you and how your voice had been sore for weeks afterward.

“As much as I have my own opinions with allying with a vampire spawn,” the Duke stares at Astarion warningly. “Wyll did say this spawn saved his life while your party ventured together. For that, I'm willing to see reason if he’s cooperative, rather than restrain him with the Fists.”

You never thought much of it until now. With how many life threatening experiences you and your companions had come across, it felt natural to save one another. At first, it had been out of necessity—fear that one person would turn into an illithid. Yet, with time, you'd all grown fond of each other, one way or another.

You think back to when Astarion had saved Wyll and wonder if that part of him is still in there. Maybe it was never there at all. Maybe it had been another one of his manipulation tactics that you're so prone to falling for.

Gods, you're hopeless.

The wizard standing beside you sighs irritably. “But that was before he tried to squeeze the life out of-”

“How long do we need to keep him?”

Gale balks at your words. “You can’t seriously be considering this.”

“Just until we’re able to locate the rest of the spawns spread throughout the city, which you kindly decided not to mention in our last conversation.”

You shoot Gale a glare, silently questioning if he’d been the one to confess the existence of the spawns underground, but he’s too busy scanning over Astarion, who’s mindlessly fidgeting with his knife. The said spawn seems to feel your gaze, because he glances at you, then grins.

The bastard is smiling.

“The man you killed this morning is a spawn himself, yes?” the Duke clarifies. “There have been numerous reports the past few days about strange figures with fangs throughout the city—I’d known they’d existed, but to the numbers that are being reported…”

“You couldn’t have possibly believed myself to be the only spawn around?” Astarion laughs bitterly. “I do not wish to go hungry, Duke, but I don’t need nearly as many bodies that’s been showing up—assuming that I did drink from anyone, of course.”

Ravengard ignores him, speaking as if he’s not there. “I could still have him detained if that is what you wish. We can continue as we have and search for the spawn without his help.”

You know it’s a fruitless effort if last night has told you anything.

“You don’t even have evidence that I drank from a single person in this entire bloody city!” Astarion spits back, rolling his neck in exasperation.

“No,” you purse your lips, finally looking up. “I’ll be responsible for him.”

Gale clears his throat alarmingly. “Now, dear leader, let’s have a private conversation before we make any hasty decisions, yes? Surely, we don’t have to decide right this moment.”

And while you open your mouth to respond that no, you won’t have Astarion rot away in some gross cell, the Duke nods. “Very well.”

Gale pushes you to the corner of the room, with his face clearly paling in disbelief. “Please tell me you’re joking. You want someone who nearly strangled you to death sleeping in the room next to yours?”

“Ravengard wants us to find out where the other spawn are hiding, and the only lead we have is sitting right there,” you defend yourself. “Throwing Astarion into a dirty cell won’t do anything to convince him to help us.”

“The Duke doesn’t know what he did to you!”

“He doesn’t need to. Astarion’s made it very clear he’s not going to spill any information if the Duke is the one asking, and we need a lead. I nearly died last night, Gale. I want to avoid that if I can.”

His eyes soften just a bit, but it’s enough. With a loud sigh, he scrunches his nose. “And you’re sure you’re not doing this for more personal reasons?”

At this, you pause. Your eyes waver, and the look Gale gives you is almost soul-crushing if it weren’t for the fact that you feel like you’ve already hit rock bottom. You know this is not a good idea. You know that being so close to him again after so many months is not a good idea, especially when you’ve just finally begun your journey to forget him.

You curse the gods above for your luck.

The silence prompts Gale to speak. “I’ll tell the Duke we can’t involve ourselves in this.”

“Gale,” your voice almost cracks. “Please.”

He doesn’t want to agree, you can tell. Any sane person wouldn’t invite a bloodthirsty vampire spawn who’s willing to use his own hands to kill his so-called lover into their home. You want to think that you’re void of bias, but you know it’s a pathetic attempt to reassure yourself. Still, the expression on your face must be quite the sight because Gale takes one look, glances at Astarion, then slumps his shoulders. You’ve won.

You hadn’t even realized the door had been swung open, where your other companions had been standing, taking one look at Astarion then to you. While Gale wallows in his own defeat, you turn to the others, eyes glimmering with a kind of hope that they haven’t seen in months.

“Your judgment’s gotten us this far,” Shadowheart sighs. “We’d be fools not to trust it now.”

Lae’zel clicks her tongue. “My blade is ready to slit his throat if need be. Just command me, and I shall.”

“We aren’t going to try to kill him," you retort.

“It’s only right to return the favor."

Dinner is awkward. You’re finally getting to try Gale’s stew, but it’s hard to focus on the taste when all you can feel is the searing stare of the person sitting across from you. He only has a goblet of crimson liquid in the same shade as his eyes in front of him, and it remains untouched as he takes in the rest of the house.

“So,” Gale offers. “What have you been up to?”

It’s not much, but it’s better than sitting in complete silence.

“Wandering the streets at night, mostly. Oh, and murdering half the city, apparently,” Astarion lets out his usual high-pitched laugh at the end, and your fingers tighten around your spoon. Shadowheart glares at him through her lashes, and you think she may lunge at him any second. You want to think you wouldn't stop her.

You feel for her, really. Being the group’s cleric comes with its advantages but also with the unspoken burden of watching your companions in pain. She’d been the one to ensure Astarion hadn’t left long-lasting damage to your throat. She’d been the one to soothe your headaches and cast a sleeping spell on you in hopes it’ll allow you to rest longer than just a few hours. She’d also seen you nearly bleed out multiple times, one of which occurred mere hours ago.

The sudden scrape of Lae’zel’s chair being pushed back catches your attention. She stands, lifting her bowl with her. “The air here is suffocating. Sort out your differences before I sort them out for you.”

The rest of you collectively nod. She doesn’t say anything else before leaving the room.

“The room at the end of the hallway upstairs is yours,” Shadowheart says finally. “Don’t bother me if you need anything else.”

She stands up as well, leaving her bowl in the sink before pacing up the stairs to her own quarters.

Somehow, the atmosphere is even worse now. You don’t dare lift your eyes from your stew, and you honestly hope it explodes before you have to sit here and drink all of it in this silence. Gale, thankfully, does not leave. Instead, he sets down his utensil.

“I suggest we have a set of rules in place–for the sake of everyone occupying this home,” he clears his throat. You shoot him a questioning look, which he dusts off.

“Fine,” Astarion leans back in his chair, now swirling the goblet of blood in his hand. “What do you have in mind?”

“No drinking. From anyone here.”

You blink a few times, then hear Astarion hum in acknowledgment. “Shame. Though your blood was vile anyway.”

“And don’t cause any trouble. One of us will go with you when you need to drink, so you can hunt for whatever animal you prefer these days. Otherwise, unless we say so, you’ll remain here.”

“Why, this sounds almost identical to a prison. Looking for a job as a warden, Gale? A midlife crisis, perhaps. Does wizard life not suit you anymore?”

“It suits me plenty, thanks,” Gale snorts. “We’ll be out during the day to rebuild the city, so you’ll have to entertain yourself in your own room. Don’t touch anything—especially my stuff.”

Astarion grins. “That almost sounds like an invitation.”

The wizard then turns to you. “And you? Do you have any other rules you’d like to add?”

You finally lift your head from the stew, looking back and forth between the two before shaking your head while pushing your chair back. For someone who’d imagined aimlessly for months about seeing your former lover again, you can’t seem to look him in the eye for fear of what you might feel. “I’m going out.”

“I’m going to take that as a no.”

Wordlessly, you pace toward the door, refusing to look back to suppress the urge to sprint back into his arms. You don’t know what you were thinking just a few hours ago, but this was not going to end well. If you couldn’t manage a simple dinner sitting across from him, what could you manage?

You’re in such a rush that you forget to bring anything besides your wallet.

By the time you’re on your way back to the house hours later, you have a backpack shoved full of fabrics with nails and a hammer to go along with it. As you pass by the taverns, you hear music playing from inside, alongside a few cheers and what you can only assume to be a crash of chairs as people applaud.

You can’t help but peer through the window as you walk past, where a bard merrily plays on his drum, lightening the mood of the entire tavern—even the bartender smiles along as he plays tunes you’ve heard a million times before. And while your hands itch for a lyre—to feel the string snap against your fingertips—you know no good will come of it. You’ll only sit before the instrument, your hands unable to find the emotions to exert in the form of notes.

As you stare at the bard, you remind yourself you’ve long given up on that kind of life.

So instead, you continue your way to the Highberry’s home. When you knock on the door, a very weary Cora Highberry greets you with bags under her eyes, but a calm smile still stretching on her lips nonetheless. She steps out of the way, inviting you in, and you do so.

“You didn’t have to, dear,” she says as she takes a bag of the city’s finest fruits from your hands. “The neighbors have been oh so gracious to us. They’re helping the children so much, I couldn’t possibly ask for more.”

“I was just passing by, that’s all,” you offer. “I wanted to check on you since I left a bit abruptly last time.”

“Oh, dear, you know how to make a woman feel special. It’s been terrible, really. I haven’t gone so long with my husband in ages…” she laughs, wiping at her swollen eyes. “But we were an old couple anyways…I had some time to prepare my emotions. I just didn’t think he’d go like that.”

You nod as she hands you a mug of hot tea. “But never mind that. I’ve spent the past two weeks talking about nothing but myself, so I’m quite tired. What about you, dear?”

“Me?”

“You look like death themselves,” she frowns. “I’ve lived for quite long…I recognize that heartbroken face anywhere. Has something happened?”

The way she’s staring at you—it’s different than pity. You can’t quite identify it, but she smiles again. It’s not the kind of smile most people give you—not one of anticpation, not one of gratefulness, but just a regular, old smile. And it makes your shoulders untense just the slightest before they tense again. You take a swig of the tea, nearly burning your throat in the process as you set the mug down, splitting a pathetic smile. “No, I’m okay. Just--tired.”

Very, very tired. Not physically, no, but tired of the indecisiveness that is your heart.

Her face falls softly. “How troubling it must be to have the weight of the city on your shoulders."

Before you can answer, there’s a loud thud upstairs. She notices your alarm and shakes her head. “Ah, must be Berry. She’s one of the younger children, and she’s been taking my husband’s death quite hard. Please excuse me, dear. I need to go put her back to sleep.”

And with that, you’re left alone on the first floor of the building again. You contemplate staying to say your farewells but the cries from upstairs convince you otherwise. Taking one last swig from the mug, you gather your things and leave.

When you get back home, it’s well into the night, an hour or two after midnight, you’d think. None of the lights are on, so the first thing you do is light a candle when you step through the door, dropping your backpack onto the dining room table. Dunking all your materials out, you take the hammer and start your work.

There’s something soothing about the darkness outside, with the way nothing seems to exist besides you and your own thoughts in a city that overflows with a sense of community. You try not to think about the man most likely reading in his room just a floor above you and focus on hanging the fabrics in front of all of the windows. The cloths are mismatched in color, and your hammer work is nothing more than sufficient, but it’ll do for now. At least until you can get actual curtains installed.

You worry that some of the fabrics aren’t thick enough to absorb all the sunlight, so you layer another fabric on top of it until you’re sure that even your candlelight cannot be seen from outside. Why you’re going so far for him, you do not know. You prefer to assure yourself that you need him to help stop the spawn from devouring the entire city, but even in your own thoughts, it sounds like a lie.

You wonder if he cares nearly as much as you do. He probably doesn’t.

You hate him, you think for the millionth time today. You want to, at the very least.

You flinch when a splinter in the wooden wall splits your skin open, forming a drop of blood on your index finger. Curse the heavens above, nothing was going right today. You quickly reach for a towel but nearly jump when you hear his voice from the stairs.

“You really need to stop with that habit of yours.”

You spin around, and he’s already at the foot of the stairs, reaching to grab a towel from the kitchen. But you’re faster, snatching it away and pressing it over your hand while he raises both his own, imitating a surrender of getting any closer. You can’t look at him in the eye—you don’t want to either. “What habit?”

“You’re speaking to me now?” he raises a brow, and you turn away again after shooting him a glare. “I’d thought you’d avoid me forever—scurrying off like a squirrel whenever I step into the room.”

You should avoid him forever. But the words don’t reach your tongue, and you choose to ignore him.

He doesn’t budge. “I meant bleeding around me.”

“What?”

“Every time I see you, you always seem to be bleeding.”

You frown at him. “Maybe you just prefer being around me when I’m bleeding.”

“You might be right." You think maybe he’s done with this painfully awkward conversation until you see him staring at the windows covered with random pieces of fabric, and suddenly, you feel embarrassment creep up your skin. You realize how bizarre your actions must appear in someone else’s eyes, staying up to the break of dawn so that he’ll be able to traverse someplace outside the confines of his own room…

It might make him think you care, and the worst part is that a part of you does.

“I hope you don’t expect me to thank you, darling.”

The nickname feels like a stab to your heart, haunting, even, but you do your best to brush it off.

“For what?” you manage to force out through clenched teeth.

“The cell they would’ve thrown me into is nothing different from trapping me in that room, I’m afraid,” he laughs bitterly, and you want to crawl into a hole from how cold his voice sounds. Distant. Like how he’d sounded the day you found him next to his nautiloid pod. “But I suppose I should be grateful for having a bed instead of having to spend my days rotting away on the dirty floor?”

You bite your bottom lip, brows furrowing. “I don't expect anything from you.”

But you do. Not quite an expectation, but a lingering wish that maybe you can heal. It's pathetic, even in your own eyes and surely everyone else's, but you can't be bothered to care.

It pisses you off a bit. How he seems perfectly unfazed while you continue to drown in your own feelings.

“Are you just here to taunt me, or is there a reason for this conversation?” you snap. This is not quite how you wanted your reunion to go.

He raises a brow. “Taunt you? I'm only answering questions you're afraid to ask.”

“I don't need to know anything about you,” you grit through your teeth. “You left my mind the second you abandoned us.”

What a poor, wishful lie.

“Ha!” It doesn't really sound like a laugh—more a scoff of disbelief. It's like he knows what you're thinking, and for a split second, it feels like there's a tadpole in your head again. “Of course you think I'm the villain of your precious heroic tale! Honestly darling, the irony just writes itself.”

You fight the urge to scowl, but you're not sure if you're successful. You find yourself gripping onto the towel harder, teeth clenched as your chest tightens just hearing his words. You truly hate that he seems to care less than you—it’s like he's not even taking you seriously.

And that damned nickname.

It feels like talking to the Astarion you first met—one who’s only intentions were to use you—but this time, you don't think it’s a mask. He doesn't want anything more from you. Only your own suffering from taking the power that would have made him untouchable.

“So tell me, dear, do you wish for me to grovel at your feet?”

Your eyes widen, and the term of endearment that once made your cheeks flush only makes you feel sick. “What?”

“Do you expect me to drop to my knees, begging for your forgiveness?” he says again, eerily composed while you struggle to come up with words. “Perhaps I would have if we were still staying in that camp. Put on a show, even."

You frown, setting your hammer down on the counter. “I’ve never made you grovel. I’ve never made you do anything.”

“Maybe not directly, no, you’re too kind of a soul to do so,” there’s venom lacing the words that feel nothing short of a lie. Somehow, he’s still smiling. “Instead, you made me beg for your help. You accepted—made it feel like I had a choice. Then tore it away just the same, in the cruelest way possible. Impressive, really. I didn't expect such dramatic sins from you.”

The way he looks at you, words dripping with sarcasm, makes you want to melt into the floor, ceasing to exist as a whole. But alas, you continue standing like a deer in headlights, unsure of how to respond. You look down to see the towel stained with your blood and inhale deeply, watching the dark sky lighten with daybreak through the window. “The sun’s rising.”

His smile drops, something foreign flickering in his eyes. He suddenly steps toward you, and as soon as he gets within two feet, you find yourself stepping backward, your fingers tightening around the hammer. You have no idea if you'd even be able to use it, but it's better than digging your nails into your palms.

It doesn't go unnoticed.

“Are you afraid I’ll hurt you?” he asks, his expression indecipherable. “I didn’t realize the great savior of the city could be afraid of a mere vampire spawn.”

You don't want to think he'd truly kill you. Not really, but your mind flashes back to the look in his eyes when he had his hands wrapped around your lifeline, and you grip the hammer tighter, heartbeat pounding impossibly fast.

“You did try to strangle me last time we spoke,” you mutter.

His lip twitches, and he steps back bitterly. You feel like you can breathe again.“Ah, yes, that.”

You swear your stomach drops to your feet at the mere suggestion he’d forgotten what haunts your nightmares every night, forcing you to lurch from your rest in a cold sweat, hands shaking, and having nobody to turn to for comfort. He couldn't be that cruel…could he? You want to scream at him, punch him, kick him, tell him he’s not being fair. You want to defend yourself, say that all you’ve ever wanted was for him to be safe, but even that feels like too much when he’s giving you so little.

“Very well, I’ll indulge you,” he grins again. You realize your time is running out, the sun beginning to peer out from the horizon. “Why did you assume responsibility for me? I can’t imagine why you’d want such a terrible foe in your life living right next door of your own sanctuary.”

For the city, you tell yourself. For Cora's husband and the poor victims drained off their life, all alone in the darkest corners of Baldur's Gate. “...I didn’t do it for you.”

He searches your face for something, his eyes narrowing. He's waiting for you to continue, but there's no more fuel in the tank, and now you just want to sleep for a very long time. You assume he comes up empty when the corners of his lips fall, and he turns to climb up the stairs. Sunlight hits your back as your eyes trail him in his steps, and it does nothing to warm how cold it feels in the room.

“That much I’m aware,” he stops his steps for a brief moment. You barely catch it, but it's there. “Terribly aware.”

And when he finally leaves, you bury your face into your hands.

"I'm nervous."

"What for?"

"What if the ascension goes wrong? Are you sure we should really be doing this, Astarion?"

He brushes your hair out of your face, cupping both your cheeks in his hands. "We'll be okay, my love. I will still be here, and so will you. I'll just finally have enough power to protect what I care about."

He sees the hesitance in your eyes and leans his forehead against yours. You melt into his touch, placing your hands atop his.

"So please, stand beside me for this," he pleads.

And despite the way your intuition screams at you otherwise, despite the way your very being begs you to pull away, you nod, sealing your fate.

"I'll be right here."

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#baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion x tav #astarion #astarion x reader #bg3 x reader #fluff #bg3 #angst with a happy ending #angst #gale of waterdeep #shadowheart

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powdermelonkeg · 3 months

Text

Gale of Waterdeep assorted headcanons: 2

Headcanons 1 here, Tower layout here

He overshares when he's drunk. It's a good look into how his brain works, but he has a 50/50 chance of putting his foot in his mouth

He has a handful of custom spells, one of those being an illusory campsite. Gale's Minor Mirage, he calls it. You're welcome!

The stitch scar on his neck is from being held at knifepoint by a particularly opportunistic thief. Said thief got hit with a lightning bolt

His spellbook is beautifully scripted to the untrained eye, but contains additional notes written in invisible ink. He presents himself as neat and tidy, but his real scribblings are anything but

While inflicted with the Netherese Orb, his blood leaves rashes on other people wherever it touches. Not severe ones, but it doesn't feel pleasant. Like a mild sunburn

Quothe (the raven familiar) is his. It's named that because it loves to listen to Gale read literature (and occasionally recite lines where he leaves off)

He owns a fancy lanceboard set; it was a housewarming gift from his parents when he first got his tower

When he was little, he used to wear a ribbon as a headband to pull his hair back with, and a cape. His hair was fluffy and fell to his chin

His favorite color is blue, but he thinks he looks more refined in purple. His mother thinks he looks most dashing in red

His favorite hobby is helping Tara adapt spells with somatic components for tressym use

His first staff was a Sun Staff, gifted to him by Elminster

His most recent staff was a Staff of Power

Both of these, he had to consume. It was a very, very hard choice to make

Other things he's had to destroy that he cared for dearly:

Emerald Pen (left over from days at the academy; worse that it wasn't worth it, as it didn't give him more than a few hours)

Chromatic Rose (given by a lover upon breakup)

Duplicitous Manuscript (The Art of the Night is one of these)

Needle of Mending (kept it on his person after the thief incident)

Wand of Enemy Detection (carried it with him on excursions with Tara)

Wayfarer's Boots (his favorite travel pair)

Arcane Grimoire (one of his first found artifacts, copied a few spells from it into his own book)

Candle of Invocation (a gift from Mystra)

Crystal Ball of Telepathy (Tara used it more than he did; her little paws can't cast Sending)

Songbird Sage's Signet (wore it everywhere, only used in a pinch; he misses the weight of it and rubs his finger occasionally)

Crown of Whirling Comets (wore it to the Blackstaff annual balls, partly to show off)

The 6th level spell Program Illusion is what appears during his Death Protocol. As it needs to be tied to an area within 30 feet of where it's assigned, it's what his briefs are enchanted with. His reasoning is that he'd always have them, and no one would take them off him while dead

When he's panicked, he burns through the magical item he fed the Orb with faster. That's why he puts such a weight on keeping calm

The reason you have 2 days to resurrect him before exploding, and why he can still live for a bit if you don't give him an item immediately, is because without careful management, it consumes HIM. He has 2 days worth of magic to his person

He doesn't like to turn people down outright. To him, the gentlemanly thing to do is to go on a first date to indulge whomever asked. He's had a lot of first dates

He's been accused of using Enchantment as to why he's so dashing once or twice. It absolutely stoked his ego around his looks

Quipper fish and hundur sauce is the dish he's most proud of, but his favorite is a good slow roast

He'll make illusory ceilings for dates with starry skies and auroras. Maybe floating candles if he's feeling fancy. Yes that extends to the bedroom

If left to his own devices, he will relax in a bath for HOURS. Tara thinks he falls asleep in there (she can't prove anything)

Before the orb, he and his mother had a pseudo-competitive exchange of cookware. They'd take turns making the most ELABORATE dishes in the same fancy glass pan, and send it back and forth trying to outdo each other. Whenever one showed up with the pan, it would always be with a healthy seasoning of smug satisfaction and sweet compliments about the last meal

He likes picnics on the beach. If you show him shells and things he'll happily tell you where they came from

He always dresses just a smidge too warmly for the weather

He can sleep just about anywhere, and frequently does in his tower. It's not good for his back. When Tara finds him, she always tugs a blanket over him

His family symbol is a crescent moon setting in the water

Bonus Tara headcanon: her opal collar is her spellcasting focus

#bg3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #long post #headcanons #tara the tressym #real galeposting hours wooooooo

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starry-nightengale · 2 years

Photo

Ringing in Spoopy Month with Caroline (and Cave) as one of the Disney Haunted Mansion stretching portraits!

(I actually drew this like... a year or two ago, and didn’t want to post it until I’d done the complete set. But I still don’t know when I’ll get around to doing the other three, so I decided it’d be best to at least let this one see the light of day, because I’m real proud of it~)

#portal #portal 2 #caroline #cave johnson #caveline #disney haunted mansion #starry's scribbles

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 1 year

Text

close your eyes

a/n: just caught up on the series yesterday and had to scribble down a little something because my mind just couldn't help but light up with ideas

warnings: din djarin x reader, fluff, mutual pining, kissing

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist

“I really wanna kiss you…” you uttered, gazing at the masked man in front of you, your shoulders rolling back at the shiver he sent soaring down your spine, “I’m sorry, that was-, I know you can’t let anyone see your face-”

“Y/n,” he cut off your apology, “I-…” his deep muffled voice faded away a moment before suggesting to you softly, “close your eyes.”

“What?”

“Close your eyes,” he took a step closer to you then added breathily, “please.” Fluttering them shut, a small rustle found your ears, “keep them closed,” you let out a slight gasp as his voice now emanated loud and clear, “don’t open them till I tell you to.”

His gloved fingers brushing softly against your blushing cheek had you sucking in a needy breath, practically melting into his open palm as it quickly slid up and over your closed eyelids, darkening your world that much further as his hand shielded your eyes from peeking even in the slightest.

His lips were softer than you’d expected, not that you had thought the warrior had just been two jawas stacked on top of each other underneath that armour, but the sensation still seized to shock you. Sighing longingly into the kiss, one of your hands found the soft fabric peeking out of his armour, fingers clawing gently at the material for support, while the other one floated up to ghost against his bearded jaw, the feeling of the short hairs working at keeping you grounded as his feathery pecks effectively sent you to cloud nine.

It was soft and gentle, but underlying every delicate touch laid a fierce hunger, a carnal need to keep going until one of you broke. But like all things, it did eventually come to an end as he painstakingly pulled back, his large palm still determinedly covering your eyes.

“You can open them now,” he breathed as his fingers slid down, though still lingered on the side of your face as you blinked your starry eyes open once more to see the all too familiar steely helmet staring back at you.

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peterthepark · 2 years

Text

venus, planet of love

pairing: steven grant x f!reader

tags: 18+ graphic smut with plot, mentions of marc and khonshu, mentions of therapy and brief panic attack depiction, all the fluffy feels, mutual pining, idiots in love, inexperienced!steven and reader, the l-bomb and lovey dovey sex, aftercare, about 9k word count teehee, friends to lovers

summary: art models are surprisingly hard to come by in london. maybe they just don’t want to work with you. maybe they’re intimidated. steven thinks you’re pretty and marc thinks it’s time to act on it. who knew steven grant would be up for a portrait?

note: first moonknight fic!!! here’s to many more :) feedback and reblogs are 100% appreciated, thanks!

- masterlist - steven grant playlist

“It just looks so smooth, like I want to touch it.”

“What? Her arse?”

The Rokeby Venus stands out as striking against the patterned red wallpaper of the gallery. The painted depiction of Venus is a stark paste of white, sensual and vividly nude as your eyes follow the curvature of brushstrokes on her backside. The soft greys, reds and creams compliment the fleshy paraphernalia of the painting; your starry eyes wander in a mixture of awe and engrossment, while your fidgeting friend beside you finds his gaze on another work of wonder.

“I’m appreciating the art, Steven. Not the arse.”

The corners of your lips tweak into something in the sorts of regale as you deliberately scribble onto your notepad, the sound of the number-two pencil against paper filling the eerie solitude of the museum. Steven’s attentive stare follows the tiny scrunching of your nose and soon, he finds himself amused at how your expression slowly shifts into unmistakable concentration.

It’s endearing.

Especially when he sees the tip of your tongue poke out from between your lips, nestling against the bottom of one of your front teeth.

Adorable.

“Oh, you’d loathe the ancient Egypt exhibit then. Not a tad bit of arses there.” Steven finally catches your eye, your head lifting from hunched shoulders to listen to him. His comment draws a quiet chuckle out of you, to which you motion for him to go on. He doesn’t hesitate. “Well, I mean, nudity had a proper place and time then. The Egyptians prided themselves in — in fashion, in jewels and beads, fabric and linens. Really, nudity was practically associated with work or oftentimes, social status. Royalty loved to dress up. You don’t see many naked ushabti, yeah?”

The strewn sentences leave him with a deep exhale, mouth parting as he gauges your reaction carefully. You’ve always adored his bursts of passion. Youthful, exciting, like the first tall flame of a new candlelight.

Steven makes an effort to ignore the image of Marc harshly rubbing his temples in the golden frame of the painting.

“I don’t think Velázquez intended nudity to be the central theme.” You mindlessly tuck the notepad into the tote bag on your shoulder. The movement causes your elbow to brush against Steven’s forearm, and he gulps roughly at the tingling of his skin. “Nor do I think it’s completely about Venus.”

“Whaddya think then?”

You quirk a brow at his question. “I think… I mean, it’s obviously an allusion to sexuality and the aesthetic of it. But not sex. More like—”

“Beauty.”

You glance at him briefly, voice getting caught in your throat as you lose your train of thought just by looking at him.

“Yeah. Beauty, women, attraction, it’s all very speculative…”

His side profile is something you’ll never get used to. The singular curl that unravels down his forehead knocks the wind right out of you, the dark chocolate strand begging to be wrapped around your finger and the rest carded through your palms.

Sometimes, you think he deserves a museum exhibit of his own, dedicated to his constant busy mind and to the soft yet simultaneously roughened details of his face.

Maybe most of the time, actually.

Steven doesn’t notice the stumble in your body language, too swept up taking the painting in for what feels like the hundredth time but really, his mind can’t stop replaying how ‘sex’ had rolled off of your tongue so beautifully, and now how Marc won’t stop fucking pestering him about growing some balls and manning up tonight.

His watch beeps and pulls you both from your respective trances while Marc sends him a hard glare through the reflection of the watchface. “Oh, bollocks.” Steven sighs out, jaw clenching as anxiety takes over the tranquility of his features.

You turn to him with knitted eyebrows. “Problem?”

“Yeah, think we’ve got to run.” He frowns, gesturing for you to follow him to the front of the exhibit. “Donna’s gonna have my head tomorrow for bringing you ‘round again, love.”

“S’not like I’m breaking and entering.” You playfully smirk at him as you clutch your bag, jutting one foot in front of the other as he hastily takes you through the employee exit and resets the alarm on the door. “And if I did want to rob this place, I would’ve done it by now. No offense.”

“None taken.” He breathes out through a winded laugh, fiddling with the zipper at the bottom of his collared jacket. He treads carefully beside you in the alleyway. “Mind you, as long as you leave the gift shop out of it, yeah?”

The streetlamps cast shadows over your face, but he finds himself gazing at you even through all the darkness.

A lingering stare. An appreciative smile. A mirroring in how you both tilt your heads to the side ever so slightly. But Steven sees the second hand embarrassment on Marc’s face transcend into the golden swirls of puddles on the cobblestone, his eyes screwed shut as a pained scoff leaves him.

Could’ve kissed her right now, Steven.

Your toothy grin is all in one airy and lighthearted. Despite Marc’s unmistakable jabs, he’s proud of at least one thing:

Making you smile.

“Of course, silly.”

No one really expects a friendship between an art student and a gift shop-ist from the National Gallery to work in a manner that is so effortless, so easy, as if it were like clockwork.

Except, the hour hand and the minute hand will never line up.

Because you’re semi-convinced that Steven doesn’t harbor any sort of attraction towards you, nothing more than feelings of friendliness and a dash of awkwardness. But then there’s that other part of you, the part that notices the stolen glances, how he looks at you all doe-eyed and regardful even when you have nothing to say, how he remembers your breakfast order every single day despite having trouble with his own, how your number is the only other emergency contact in his phone besides his mom who hasn’t called him back once. Hell, you’ve even been friends long enough to earn an alligator emoji beside your name. What a rarity.

Just friends. That’s all it could and should be.

Steven thinks you’d never date a bloke like him. Marc is sold on the idea that you have feelings for Steven, in which the tension, he states, is painfully and terribly obvious. It’s difficult to watch, even from that other dimension. And Khonshu, well, that guy just thinks that the three of you are all bloody idiots.

You try to push down the odd fluttering of your stomach when Steven opens the door to your car for you. He always does. You’re used to the chivalry, the old-fashioned kindness, but something about how he’s doing it tonight — hand hovering over the small of your back, then over your head as you dip into the driver’s seat while he watches you intently, wrinkles smoothing over his tan skin and eyes softening.

You look up at him before he shuts your door. “Tea at mine?”

“Only if I get to make it this time.”

You scoff in offense, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water as he comes around to the passenger side then buckles himself in. “What was wrong last time?”

“Honestly, Y/N?”

“Yes, honestly!” You slightly turn up the radio, raising your brows at Steven as he immediately changes the station.

He sputters through a chuckle before he can even finish his sentence. “Tasted absolutely rubbish, I tell you!”

“Piss off!”

Abruptly, you both laugh heartily at that, shoulders bouncing as Steven recalls the memory of how awful it not only felt in his mouth, but how awful the brew looked in general. He finds himself unable to tear his eyes away from your face. Unable to stop replaying your sweet giggle that he drew out of you over and over again, and how his name falls from you like a bubbly chant as you reach over the console and slap his arm. Unable to stop his fingers from twitching against his thigh because he just wants nothing but to reach out and tuck that annoying wisp of hair behind your ear and tell you how much you truly mean to him.

The moonlight looks pretty on you.

Steven likes the comfort of your flat more than his own. There’s something remarkable about seeing a bed without ankle restraints and chains, or having sand stuck to the soles of his feet as he pads around the kitchen for once. Just you, him, an ugly red sofa, and the mess of unfinished canvases on your floor. Your lips twitch when he reaches around to help you get something off of the top shelf in your cupboard, his large palm gently pressing against your upper back when he pulls away to hand you a porcelain cup.

You pour from the teapot. Steven adds an acceptable amount of milk. One long sip. Sigh of relief. Another sip. Then, smile at each other behind your delicate cups.

Like clockwork.

His kind voice feels warmer than the tea in your hands. “I enjoyed today.” Steven admits, leaning back against the counter and crossing his ankles as he speaks into his cup.

You study the sincere tenderness in his dark irises. “I did too.” For a moment, the silence is nice. It’s comforting. You’re a safe haven, even as he fidgets nervously, drumming his fingers against the cool surface as you reluctantly look away from each other. Yet the longer you linger in the quiet, the louder the thoughts in your mind get. Your pinched voice comes out rushed and unsure. “Are you still seeing that therapist?” Steven tilts his head, unable to recognize your tone.

“Seeing her? What do you mean?”

“Like, um, the sessions and stuff.” You chuckle softly, waving a dismissive hand at that with widening eyes. “Not in — in that way. I mean, are you?”

Why is she asking?

“Oh, goodness. No. Absolutely not.” Steven‘s dark eyebrows shoot upwards. His hold on the porcelain teacup tightens, knuckles tensing. “Why’s that?”

You blink rapidly. “Just wondering.”

“We weren’t compatible. Professionally.” He sends you a close-lipped smile. It’s demure, and for some reason, nostalgic. “She had this — this big, caged bird in the room with us. Like a bloody parrot or something.” Then, he shrugs, eyes darting across the room with what seems to be an amused smirk as if you’re supposed to understand this implied sort of inside joke. “Wasn’t very soothing. Probably gonna find someone else in the time being, you know, hopefully with a… nicer therapy animal. Preferably one that doesn’t repeat everything that I say.” You nod slowly, taking another sip while he clears his throat. “And you? How’s your project coming along, dear?”

You snort. “Haven’t even drawn a single thing.” Your shoulders deflate as you sigh dramatically. “Due in a week, not a single idea in mind, canvas still as empty as ever.”

“You’d think it would be easy to find a model. Plenty of nudists in London.”

“Yeah, well, none of them want to be painted.”

“Then they must be intimidated.”

A tiny clink fills the air when you set the cup of tea onto the table behind you, arms crossing over your chest as you tuck your hands by your hips. The flat feels chilly beneath the illumination of the kitchen lamp. Steven feels too far away. But at the same time, he’s here. Here, in the tiny room, by the stove, dark circles beneath his lower lashes like he hasn’t slept in years, muscles straining against his jacket.

“And why would they be intimidated?”

If Khonshu could swallow him whole, this would be the perfect time for it. If Marc wanted to take the body, he’d let him. But the alters stay out of it, and for once, Steven longs for their interference. He can’t escape the way you stare at him, innocently chewing on your bottom lip as you await his response patiently. You don’t prod, just let time pass. Steven doesn’t know which is worse. The fridge rumbles. The shower next door shuts off. The cars outside whizz by. The moon peeks out from the blinds. There’s a wailing siren in the distance, but nothing is louder than the heartbeat drumming against your chest as Steven swipes a wet thumb over his mouth and gazes out the cracked window above your sink.

“Because — well, you’re a talented painter. You’re good, good at what you do and you — you’re intentional.” He locks eyes with you in the midst of his ramblings. “You’re purposeful in how you study people, how you look at them, memorizing every flaw and every detail between. You capture beauty, um, that — that I can’t even see and I don’t know how…” He lets out a nervous laugh, jaw clenching under the weight of gritted teeth. “I don’t know how anyone can just sit there and watch you paint without melting on the spot.”

Keep going.

“Steven…”

“You intimidate because you’re beautiful. And beauty makes people nervous, Y/N.” He clasps a hand over his heart, not because the words strike him deeply, but to stop himself from reaching out to touch you.

You collect your weight from the table, using your heel to slowly push yourself towards Steven and stand in front of him. You curiously toe at his white sock with your own, avoiding his gaze as you uncross your arms from your chest and entangle them behind your back with a frown.

“Do I intimidate you?”

Khonshu isn’t even in the kitchen anymore, and Marc is speechless. He can’t even watch.

At first, Steven’s voice comes out as small. And had you not been watching the parting of his lips, it easily could’ve been mistaken as the wind knocking against the walls. “Yes.”

“Is it because you think I’m pretty?”

“I think you’re more than that.”

“Honestly, I don’t think I am.”

Steven chuckles, shaking his head. His pupils are heavily dilated, darker than normal. “Trust me, you are.”

“Prove it.” You pick a stray thread off of his shirt, goosebumps erupting across his soft skin as your cold fingertips leave him. His eyes follow the motion before they flicker back to your face. “Sit on that sofa and let me paint you.” Steven can’t pinpoint the emotions behind your words. Close to playful. Far from joking. He doesn’t know if you’re being serious, but you’re grasping at paintbrushes with a glowing smile and quickly tying an apron around your waist that leaves him blushing shamelessly.

“You do not want to paint me.” He awkwardly huffs out, raising his hands at you before you’re pouting at him. “Y/N, it would just be a waste of canvas.”

“And why would I not wanna paint you?”

You pull your hair up into a ponytail, ignoring how Steven’s gaze trails up your exposed arms and the curve of your shoulders. You inhale deeply, and just from the way your throat flexes in the shadows, Steven suddenly brings himself to sit on the mass of pillows atop of the velvet couch. He watches you drag an easel out from your closet, placing it right by the footrest and the swiveling stool across from him. There’s a cart filled with discarded jars of scotch, tubes of different paint mediums and a wooden palette marked with an array of clashing colors beside you, an attest to the acrylic staining the Persian rug beneath your feet.

“Because I’m just me. Just Steven.”

Your eyes pop out from over the canvas.

“Well, I think ‘just Steven’ is perfect.”

He winces, lines creasing together on his forehead. “So what do I do now? Just — just pose, or…” He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, teeth making indents on his bottom lip. “Do I smile? What do — what do your models usually do?”

“Well, most of the time, they’re usually half-naked and tend to be as still as a statue.”

“Oh.”

You peer back at him again, gaze full of sincerity and concern as he self-consciously situates his position on the couch. “But you don’t need to follow the naked part. Just the latter, okay?”

“Alrighty then.”

He can feel the warmth of your smile radiating even from six feet away. “Relax your jaw. Don’t look so scared, the more natural the better.”

His pupils dart around the room, taking in your flat as if it’s the first time he’s been here. He can’t look at you. He can’t. Not when you’re concentrating on him like that, scouring the details of his features, the lines and moles that mark his face, the exhaustion, surveying the slump of his spine like that was meant to be beautiful to you.

Would you capture all his flaws and blemishes then turn them into compliments?

“I told you I’m intimidated.” Steven quips, squaring his shoulders when he sees your paintbrush take the first glide across the blank canvas.

“And I told you that there’s nothing to be intimidated about.”

“You know, I quite hate it when you get down on yourself like that.” He glares at you with a heavy shrug. Even when he’s clearly upset at you, Steven has a certain calmness to him.

He’s the striking resemblance of lightning without the explosiveness of thunder.

You don’t say anything, just swirl a mixture of colors onto the battered palette as you return back to the painting. He can see your tongue prodding against the inside of your cheek, rumination coating your mind in the same manner that hues of beige, black and pink coat his portrait. Steven lets the silence talk. He lets you bask in the quiescence for the sake of your art, for the sake of peace and his embarrassing desire to get this over with. But at the same time, he doesn’t want this to end.

Sure, he hates the fleeting eye contact. But come tomorrow, you won’t be staring at him like this — won’t smile at him with such tenderness and intention, won’t let your gaze wander for longer than a best friend would. Come tomorrow, you’ll have breakfast together while an ABBA record echoes from the living room, then you’re driving him to work with morning road rage and leaving for a nine a.m. lecture as if domesticity didn’t have an effect on you like it did on Steven.

There, you won’t study him like he’s the most interesting creature on the planet. But come tomorrow, he’ll continue to read you like you’re the rarest text of Egyptian lore.

“You intimidate me too, you know.”

Could you hear the cogs in his brain? Was this an answer to all of his speculations? Curiously, Steven turns his feet towards you. His ears perk up, full brows raising at your unanticipated statement. “What?”

“Yeah.” You sigh out tiredly.

“Now why would I do that?”

This time, your face is completely blocked by the easel. You make it purposeful so he can’t discern your expression, even as the brush moves in slow and heavy strokes against the canvas.

“I suppose for the same reason you find me intimidating.“

The sound of wet paint dabs onto the surface and drowns out your shallow breaths in the midst of Steven’s surprise.

“You find me… pretty?”

The scoff at the end of his question makes you cringe. Maybe you’ve said too much. Maybe you’ve stepped a line, or maybe he thinks this is all too odd.

Your lips flutter upwards solemnly as you repeat his exact words from earlier.

“I think you’re more than that.”

His heart could absolutely burst from his chest right now. He’s helplessly pinching at the bridge of his nose, unsure where to put his hands and why his hair suddenly feels so flat against his head. The couch beneath him is stiff, uncomfortable against his arse as he realizes that he’s been sitting in the same spot for too long. And now, Khonshu is simply leaning over your shoulder to look at the easel, thrumming with critique and amusement as the God towers over your hunched frame on the stool.

“Damn it.” Steven groans, placing a fist over his chest as he fidgets erratically. His eyes narrow, lips pursing together as he tries to blink back the chaos in his mind and fights off the urge to hand the reins to Marc. “God, I think I’m having a panic attack right now.”

“What?” You immediately place your brush down, peeking around the side of the canvas as Steven tries to even out his breathing. The stool nearly clatters to the floor when you stand and take long strides to his aid with wide eyes. “Do you need some air? I can — I can open a window, or — water? Water would be good?” He nods feverishly, tearing his gaze away from you and directing it to the stained carpet. You rush over to the sink, flicking on the tap and clumsily filling up a mug that Steven had given you from the gift shop. “Okay. Here, here.”

The dinosaur pun on the front isn’t so funny anymore when water sloshes over the rim as you hand it to him. He takes loud gulps as you cup your hand below his chin and catch the excess from the corners of his mouth.

“Thank you.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to — are you okay? What happened back there?”

You called me pretty, he wants to say. You don’t think I’m awful-looking, he wants to say. You think that I’m worth a second glance and worth all those lingering stares that I thought were parts of my imagination, he wants to say.

But instead, he saves those remarks for another time, and settles on one that seems fitting for the moment.

“I got intimidated.”

And you laugh. It’s brief and small, yet large enough to mend the brokenness of Steven’s haywiring brain when you set his mug down on the footrest and look down at him from where he sits awkwardly on your couch. The overhead light creates an unconventional halo behind your crown of hair, your shadow embracing the sunken essence of Steven’s face as he quietly admires you.

You send him a lopsided smile, dimples creating crescent moons around your lips and the bulb of your nose as anxious fingers twitch at your sides. “I’m no Venus.”

“Goddess or planet?”

He draws another chuckle out of you.

“Goddess, I think.”

“Well, Y/N, gods and goddesses are fairly overrated anyways.”

You bite your lip. “And if I’m a planet, then what does that make you?”

Steven lets his stare drop from your face, curls dropping against the shine of his forehead as he dusts away the lint on his pants. You study his distracted form, leg brushing against his bent knees as your stance hovers over him. He sighs shakily at the sensation, but then your fingers shift to wrap around the roughened hands that are interlocked together in his lap, thumbs hesitantly ghosting over his knuckles with a shyness he’s never seen on you.

The notion causes him to ever-so-slightly lift his head. Those big, brown eyes meet yours in the humming of your living room, and the hand that’s wrapped around his own slowly travels up to the underside of his jaw. You can feel his muscles move beneath your gentle touch when his warm cheek leans into your palm, staining his skin with paint.

“Must make me the idiot who sits in the observatory all day, all night, watching in awe through a telescope.” He closes his eyes when your fingers trace his skin, shifting higher and higher until you languidly card your nails through his dark curls. His head tilts back submissively with the soft action, nose pointing up at you as bliss falls upon his features. “Sounds a bit creepy now that I say it out loud.”

“You know people say that Venus is hellish, right?”

His eyelids flutter open, long lashes tickling you. “You’re pretty hellish to me.”

“I’m offended.”

“Don’t be.” He whispers, resting his hand against your outer thigh.

Both of your heads follow the motion, as if his body had betrayed what he was trying so hard not to do — touch you, feel your heat against his, let his touch wander where his mind shouldn’t. But he can’t rewind time, and he certainly can’t stop how his palm stretches over your upper leg until it rests upon your hip.

“Steven…” You stroke his cheek with amorous yearning, smudging the space underneath his eye with a shade of pastel pink.

“Don’t — don’t say my name like that, love. Please, don’t.” Air escapes from his nostrils, his words fall from his lips in a longing tone laced with subtle desperation. But nothing is subtle anymore. Not with how he looks up at you like you’re the brightest star in the universe, staring at you like how you stare at famous masterpieces in a museum or even the works of art that never get noticed, but when they are, everything just makes sense. “You say it like…”

Now this all makes sense.

“Say it like what?”

“As if it’s more than my — more than just a bloody name.” Steven’s eyebrows furrow deeply, yet somehow he looks softer.

“More than just Steven with a V?” He laughs at that, a deep rumble that vibrates through his belly and throat as his eyes never leave yours. “Hey, I like saying your name.”

Your fingers against his bottom lip bring him back to this painless reality, and the tension isn’t so unbearable when you stain his sun-kissed skin blue in the dull light above the sofa.

“No… not that.” Both of your hands cup his cheeks, ears tucked into the spaces between your curling digits as you caress his chin with your thumbs. Your pupils lull him into hypnosis, and he finds himself unable to stop gazing at the constellations in your irises. “You say it as if you like me.”

Fucking hell, Steven.

His hands tighten around your hips, anchoring you.

“I do like you.”

“No, like — like more…”

“More than a friend?”

“Yeah.” His blinks grow rapidly while his face contorts into something of shock and perplexity, teeth on display as he shoots you a panicked look. “Do you?”

“Do I? Steven, I’ve…” An exhausted chuckle racks through you.

A pathetic noise of protest bubbles out of him when your palms leave his jaw. The cold isn’t so welcoming, and neither is the rest of your flat when you turn your back on him to tousle your hair with pent-up frustration. Meanwhile, Khonshu lingers in the hallways and curiously sorts through your vintage records. Marc wants nothing to do with this and resorts to plugging his ears.

Steven, here and now, is alone — alone with you and a giant, undeniable problem with the word ‘FEELINGS’ stamped right on top of it. He’s been decent about how to deal with emotions. He knows where his heart is, what makes his brain light up and what grows butterflies in his stomach. And even when you pace the room in worrisome, dizzying circles, all of the above outweighs the anxiety that shelters his bones.

“Y/N, dear, will you please sit down?” You don’t listen. He allows you two more laps around the couch and footrest until he beckons to you again. “Y/N.” Another two, then Steven himself is trailing behind your haste steps. “Y/N, what is the matter with you?” He takes the liberty of grabbing your wrist, pulling you back before you can escape once again. He squeezes your arm. Once, twice, till he understands that you’re fully listening. “Stop it, you.”

Normally, he’s the one running. But something about the way you look at him makes him want to stay, something about how your lips part and how you roll your bottom lip between your teeth then let it bounce back to its natural position makes him all hazy-eyed and helpless when your own eyes flicker to his mouth. You don’t know where to look, yet you strive to take in every single detail of him because you’ve never stood this close to one another.

You’re breathless, while his chest rises and falls steadily. You’re stepping on Steven’s toes, but he doesn’t mind. The hand around your wrist travels up your elbow, keeping you anchored when his other one does the same to your opposite arm. “Stop.” He whispers, warm breath fanning over your face as he shakes his head at you.

“You stop.” Your eyes gravitate to his mouth again, plump lips pouting with temptation as you subconsciously take a step closer towards each other.

Does he want this as much as you do?

His knuckles run along your cheek and your droopy eyelids grow heavy at the tender feeling. Steven’s fingers find that annoying wisp of hair from earlier, and he takes it upon himself to tuck it behind your ear. You try to stifle a moan when his nails card along your scalp, mirroring your gesture from before. But a whimper eases its way out of you, followed by a shaky sigh when your voice denounces you. His movement stills for a moment, but then both of his hands are cupping your face and his forehead is pressing against yours in a manner that is so indescribably intimate, you can’t even believe it’s real.

“You’re so pretty.”

There’s that desperate whisper again.

Your mouth reaches for his. You can feel him holding you by the back of your neck, lips unmoving and lacking confidence against yours. It’s a short kiss, nothing too heated, but when you try to pull away through mumbling apologies, he can’t help but grab you by the chin and bring you back to him for seconds.

You gasp into his mouth, the button of his nose resting against your cheek when you regain your self-control and hold onto his shoulders for leverage. “I’m sorry.” You blurt out.

“No, no,” He kisses you again, pupils wide and hands grasping at your belly when realization washes over. “Forgive me, I don’t — I didn’t mean to—“

“You didn’t mean to kiss me?” You smirk. The teasing grin is immediately wiped off of your features when Steven pulls you closer and tighter, almost as if you’d slip away from him anytime soon. “Are you going to do it again?”

“I think I want to, unless you don’t want me to, Y/N.”

“Of course I want you to. I want you, Steven.”

He chuckles in disbelief. “You do?”

“Well, I kissed you back, didn’t I?”

He gets lost in your eyes for the millionth time tonight. His accent draws out thick and frustrated when he finds the courage to pull your lips back onto his.

“Oh, fuck it.”

You moan instantly when his fingers undo your ponytail and tangle through your hair, flawed palms grabbing at each other’s clothing like you hadn’t felt the touch of someone else in ages — like you hadn’t felt Steven touch you in a fashion that is so sexual, so passionate and needy as if he’s been needing you all his life.

You kiss down his jaw, reveling in the soft sighing that he casts against your ear when you near his throat. He pinches himself when your mouth latches onto that sweet spot by his shoulder. It’s real. You’re real, with your hot tongue against his neck, with your chapstick molding him into shea butter and beeswax, with your paint-stained fingers dancing across the hem of his jacket like a tease. It’s real when his arms wrap around your frame, and your back immediately arches in response to his embrace while he ponders the skin beneath your shirt.

“You can touch me.” You whisper against his mouth with swollen lips and nudging noses. He sighs at the consensual phrase, coffee-colored eyes never once leaving the comfort of yours. “S’okay, Steven.”

“Are — are you sure?”

“I am.”

The couch creaks beneath him when he reaches over and gingerly holds you by the jaw, thumbing at your earlobe with hopeless adoration. It feels like two teenagers kissing each other for the first time. Awkward tangled limbs. Noses accidentally bumping and twitchy eyelashes poking at sensitive flesh. But it feels so natural, especially when your body reacts to Steven’s affections as if it has always known him.

He kisses you. A lot.

And he kisses you some more until you’re practically sliding off the couch and resorting to becoming labyrinths of desperation on your rug.

Your shirt rides up as Steven drags a large palm over your ribs, tracing the bone beneath your titillating skin. His head rests on your stomach, lips pecking the area around your belly button and down your hip bone until you’re eager for his mouth again. “You’re unreal, Y/N.” He groans in pleasure when you tug on his hair, smiling when you roll on top of him and straddle his lap. “Two years of my life I’ve spent pining after you.”

You giggle, “Try three. I win, yeah?”

“Oh, so now it’s a competition?”

“I’m just saying maybe you’ve been Venus all along.”

He smirks playfully, shrugging from where he lays on the floor. “I think we both know I prefer ancient Egypt over ancient Rome.”

“Planet.” You breathe out, fighting off the urge to close your eyes when his hands finally make contact with your lower back. “The planet, not the goddess.”

Steven’s arm extends upwards, pushing your hair away from your face when you look down at him with a dreamy gaze.

“Goddamnit, you’re so pretty.” You sigh in content at the praise. “My Venus.”

The pet name nearly makes you melt.

No artist in the world could replicate the masterpiece of your skin against his. No artist could etch every detail of you and depict it in a manner so accurate or perfect — every mole, scar, freckle and fold as if you were carved from Venus’ hip at birth. No painting could hold the same beauty of Steven nervously taking your shirt off, unable to capture the quiet chuckles when your head gets caught in the fabric. Venus’ figure can’t compare to Steven’s tawny chest, faint abs rippling under your nails and lips as you kiss your way up to his pecs.

Surrounded by pools of each other’s clothes, your burning bodies lay beside one another as sensual messes on the floor, rutting against each other gently and needily as Steven hikes your leg over his hip. You grind your mound against his crotch, gasping into his mouth when he holds you there.

“You’re so fucking sexy.” He remarks, gripping onto your waist before he suddenly looks to you for guidance. “I-I really… fuck, I really do want you.”

His touch is featherweight, flightless but not even close to fleeting when he takes the time to voyage the muscled wings of your back.

“In what way?”

He exhales shakily, wetting his lips. “All of them.” You tuck your head under his chin after pressing a brief kiss to his temple. His voice rumbles against your body. The richness of his accent drops to a deeper octave when you reply in a high-pitched moan, hips grinding onto his front when his fingers find the waistband of your underwear. “Teach me how to take care of you, love.”

“Touch me. Just touch me like you won’t ever stop.” Steven studies the desperation in your glassy eyes and nods softly, stroking his finger on either side of your cheek. Yet, past the swirls of loving lust in his expression, you recognize that something’s bothering him. “Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah,” He says almost too quickly. “Yeah, I am. Are you? I just, um…” He laughs sheepishly, stroking the side of your head. “I’ve never done this before.”

“You haven’t?”

“I never… got to that point, really, with anyone.”

“Well, if it makes you feel better,” You shift closer to him, resting your forehead against his as you look at him through your lashes, “I’ve never had someone inside me.” And Steven moans. Loud, deep, desperate. You would’ve clenched your thighs together had Steven not hoisted your leg higher over his hip. “I’ve done stuff, but… never been fucked. Never been…” You sigh blissfully when his fingers trace the curve of your buttock. “… properly filled up by anyone.”

“You’re going to k-kill me, love.” He glances down at your clothed core, fingers begging to reach for you.

“I’m sorry, I know. I know.” You kiss him, earning a needy groan from the man. “Go on then, touch me, baby.”

“Tell me if I’m doing it wrong. Tell me if it’s not what you want.”

Agonizingly slow, his digits dip down the waistband of your panties, cotton rubbing against the back of his hand as he curls his fingertips towards your cunt. The gentle notion makes you gasp once more, especially when he spreads your folds apart to expose the hood of your clit. His middle finger circles leisurely over the sensitive nub with feathery touches.

“Steven, fuck… yeah, that’s it.”

His voice hitches in his throat as he gauges your reaction. “Oh, love, you’re — oh, you’re just dripping, aren’t you?” You guide his hand further, the pads of his fingers dragging your slick against your wet entrance. “Y/N, you gorgeous, gorgeous thing.”

“Feels good.” You scratch at his shoulders shamelessly, rocking on the heel of his hand for more friction. Your eagerness spurs Steven further and so he increases the pressure, skimming his fingers over your folds and pressing ever-so-tantalizingly near your hole before he returns back to your clit. “Tease.”

“I don’t even know what I’m doing and you’re calling me a tease?” He smirks proudly, repeating the gesture until he’s drawing a moan out of you each time. The outline of his dick protrudes against his boxers, and only then does he realize how hard he is for you. “It’s good, yeah?”

You’ve never seen him so smug.

Yet you like it, and you can’t fucking help but want more of it.

“Shit, yeah. Yeah, it’s — it’s… oh, Steven.”

Your sentence is interrupted midway when he pushes his finger inside you, slow and deep enough to rip a whine right out of your throat from the stretching sensation. He inhales loudly, eyes fixating on your mouth when you hopelessly sigh against his neck. You shift your knee higher up his leg, giving him more access to finger you. He hums at your facial expressions, mirroring them when you suckle dark marks just beneath his jaw.

It brings an innocent smile to his face thinking how he’ll have to show up to work tomorrow with remnants of you all over him.

Steven mouths at your shoulder, leaving glistening patches of saliva in the wake of his fumbling kisses. You rock against the heel of his palm, mewling as he drags his fingers against your walls and he muffles his own pleasure against your skin.

“You’re so perfect.” He groans, fucking his digits in and out of you. The noises that leave your cunt and his throat are sinful, but nothing beats the image of you resting your head on his arm, his hand cupping your mound while he fingers you on the floor impatiently. “Fuck, Y/N. You’re making quite the mess, aren’t you, dovey? God, your moans are so fucking sweet to listen to.”

“Steven, your fingers...” You watch his wrist snap against you, juices squelching around him. You nearly sob from the intensity. “You get me so wet.”

“That’s good, Y/N. That’s good. I love pleasing you, you know that.” You clamp down onto the crook of his neck, teeth stifling your wrecked moans as he curls his middle and ring finger against that spongy spot inside you. His touch is generous, obviously eager to satisfy you, and accompanied by his weathered hands, you can feel your orgasm approaching soon. “Can I tell you something?”

Your voice comes out broken, mind fuzzy as your cunt tightens around him. “What?”

“Those… those two years, I…” He moans in tandem with you when you nibble at his bottom lip. “I, fuck, it wasn’t just pining, Y/N.”

“I have n-no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I think I — I think I’m in love with you. And not just because I’m…“ He laughs. “… inside you right now, but I think I’ve been in love with you from the moment you spoke to me and — and fuck, being able to hold you like this only confirms it.”

And just like that, you come undone all over his thick fingers.

“Oh, fuck! S-Steven!”

You cry out into his chest, bite marks tattering his skin as you hold him tight and gracelessly grind against him until you lose control over your climax. Your body shivers from your orgasm, gradually and slowly, which usually never happens from anyone else’s hands other than your own. Steven’s confession hangs heavily in the air even as he coaxes you through your high, fingers scissoring carefully in and out of you.

Soft praises leave him in whispers, and he shares his affection for you with gentle pecks to your temples.

A couple minutes pass by until you’re able to catch your breath, or at least, compose yourself.

“Was I imagining that or did you just say you love me?” You look up at him with big eyes, voice hushed and fearful as he wipes the sweat away from your brow with his thumb.

He gulps, lashes fluttering dreamily when you cup his cheek with a shaky hand. “S’real.”

“Tell me again.”

“I love you.”

“More than best friends?”

Steven adores the childish glimmer of curiosity in your innocent gaze. He chuckles quietly, nodding. “Best friends included and more.”

“I love you, best friends and more.” You rub your nose against his before your stare drifts to his swollen lips. “But the next time you confess shit like that, don’t do it when you’re fingering me.”

He flashes you a weak smile. “Alrighty, miss.”

Although, Steven is unprepared for when you untangle yourself from his arms and settle between his thighs, nails raking over his muscled calves and mouth grazing over the bulging front of his boxers.

Your next words simultaneously fill and take the air from his lungs.

“Do it when you have your cock inside me.”

Marc nearly takes control of the body himself at that exact moment, and Steven immediately thinks he’s going to pass out when you tug his boxers down his hips to free his aching prick. His reddened tip is already leaking with pre-cum, thighs jolting beneath your slow and open-mouthed kisses to his skin.

“You really are hellish.” He whines when you wrap your middle and ring finger along the middle of his cock, lips suctioning around the base. A long moan drawls from his throat as he rests his head back against the rug, eyes screwing shut when you run your warm tongue along a prominent vein.

“Am not.” You chuckle, pressing a chaste kiss to the head.

He stifles a groan, forearm coming up to cover his eyes as you take just the tip of him into your mouth. “Oh, my god, Y/N. F-Fuck, yes.” You hum in amusement, the back of your throat sending the vibrations right to his cock. “That’s good. Really fucking good. Oh, fuck.”

You grin widely, but remain careful not to use any teeth on him. “You’re very needy, you know that? But, oh, you’re just doing so well for me, aren’t you?”

The mocking tone of your phrases make him squirm. He’s gripping onto a fistful of the Persian rug, wrinkling it with scarred knuckles.

“Please.”

“Please?”

“More. Touch me more.” He shakes his head at you, chin pressing against his chest as he stares down at you with a defeated expression. “Please, love.”

You’d be lying if you say that the way he looks at you doesn’t make you wet. You’re practically a puddle of desire, and Steven is melting jelly in your hands when your head quickly bobs down his thick length.

He’s sputtering out a string of swear words, cursing more than you’ve ever heard him in your years of friendship. You can tell he’s trying his best not to cum prematurely, not that you’d care anyways, but with how his soft stomach ripples and flexes with each deliberate swirl of your textured tongue, you know he’s struggling.

And just when you’re about to give him that moment of release, you feel Steven pulling you back by the hair. Disappointment flashes over his features briefly when your mouth leaves him, but the boyish longing on his face quickly shifts into attentiveness when he catches a glimpse of the confused glint in your eyes.

“Everything alright?” Your hands find his face once more. It becomes so natural in this new, sudden dynamic together — touching him, feeling him against you like you’ve always wanted. “Was it too much?”

“No, no, it was amazing.” He assures you, fingers pushing back the matted hair on your cheeks. “You’re amazing. I just don’t — I don’t wanna finish and leave you unsatisfied.”

“You could never leave me unsatisfied, silly.” You bite your lip feverishly, thumb stroking his chin for comfort.

He smiles. The tension of the conversation seems far from innocent now, especially when a near-indiscernible side of Steven appears as the words leave him confidently:

“I want to be your first, though. The first man inside you.”

“Steven…”

“Only if you want, Y/N. Whatever you say goes, no matter what.” His hands grab yours, sweat sticking to each other’s skin. “It would be nice to have you be my first. And me as yours. I mean, it sounds so juvenile to want no one except you, but it’s the truth.” He lazily kisses across your knuckles, paving his way around the tendons with his lips. “I want to have sex with you, and I want to remember it.”

“Is he here right now?” Steven freezes and his jaw goes slack at the question. He can tell you’re nothing but concerned once your eyebrows knit together deeply. “Is Marc here?”

It’s the first time you’ve asked about Marc Spector without Steven bringing him up on his own account.

“Why? Did you want — do you want him instead?”

“No! No, I don’t. Not for this.” You smile with brief panic, tracing the bridge of Steven’s nose to put his worries to rest. His frown gradually fades with the soothing motion. “I just want to make sure it’s you. Everything we do here, I want it to be with you.” You ruffle his hair teasingly once he sits up. “No offense to Marc, by the way.”

Steven chuckles, “I’ll give him your regards.”

“Well, he has yet to talk to me.” You shrug casually, grabbing onto his biceps as he pulls you onto his lap.

“He’s just shy.” He grins against your lips. His palm travels up the swell of your breast until he’s softly kneading the ball of flesh and rolling your nipple between his fingers.

Your breathing quickens, eyes fixating on his hardened erection. “Shyer than you?”

“Oh, incredibly.” Steven jokes, shaking his head.

He can just imagine Marc’s downturned expression of disbelief.

“Tell him…” You nip at his earlobe, moaning against his cheek. “… that I’m already spoken for.”

“Are you now?” He’s abrupty cut off by his own gasp when your arm reaches behind and you wrap a fist around his dick, pumping him slowly in your firm grasp. “Rude. I was talking.”

“Were you? I’m sorry. Let me make it up to you.”

She thinks she’s so funny, doesn’t she?

“Stop a-apologizing and…” He hisses when you twist your hand, grazing the pad of your finger over his slit. “F-Fuck, Y/N.”

“There we go…” You grind against his tip, pre-cum smearing across your folds. “What do you want?”

“Want you to use me, darling. However you’d like.”

“So eager for me, Steven.” You breathe into his mouth, noses nudging against each other as you line his cock up with your entrance. “You haven’t even fucked me and yet you’re practically begging for more.”

“God, you talk so filthy for someone with such a gorgeous face, yeah?”

“I guess I truly am hellish.”

And yet nothing about this feels like hell.

Especially once you sink down onto his length, the heavy tip of his cock ready to stretch you out. It’s only slightly painful — a brief sting, the awkward shifting of bones so that Steven can sit back and have your thighs on either side of him, the echoing of your quiet whimpers beneath the soft light as you take every inch of him into your core. Your slick spreads onto his thighs and balls, wetness coating his digit as he instantly reaches for your clit like its become second nature.

“You — you’re really tight.” He groans, looking down at where your cunt swallows him whole.

You laugh wryly, whimpering when his hips subconsciously rut into you. “And you’re really big.”

Steven tilts his head back and looks up at you with a hazy smile, raising your chin with his thumb and pointer finger. For a split second, you think it’s Marc — the darkness in his eyes, the sudden dominance dripping from his tone, but it’s a big mistake on your part to second-guess him once he finally thrusts into you.

“Say it again, love.”

It’s completely Steven — his wandering hands, grasping and grabbing at flesh, grounding you, feeling every crevice and fold of your body like it’s a sanctuary that he’s been dying to enter.

“You’re so big.” Your mouth gapes, eyes widening when you submit to his touch and let him take you. “Oh, fuck. Steven, please.”

“Yeah?” He grunts gruffly into your neck, teeth marking the virginal expanse of your throat. “You like it this way? My lovely Y/N enjoys getting fucked on the floor of her own flat?”

“I love it.” You meet his strokes halfway, tits bouncing in his face as he leans forward on his knees and wraps your legs behind his back. “Oh, s-shit. Mmm, right there — right there feels so — so good, Steven. Fuck!”

Steven bites down onto your shoulder when he lays you down onto the rug, cock burying itself deeper inside your cunt while he puts his weight on top of your body. His whiny moans are muffled, gasps and slaps filling the ambience of the messy living room. You’re sure that the neighbors below your studio can feel every force of Steven’s hips pounding into you — hard, slow and full.

You scratch down his spine, red marks drawing angry lines across his tanned muscles. Juices are running down your inner thighs and cream coats his cock as he fucks you needily. While his skin is stained with paint, your skin is littered with his stinging handprints. He spreads his palms over your ass, carefully maneuvering you up and down his length as you sob into his chest.

“Oh, Y/N, you’re everything I could’ve dreamed of.” Steven pants out incoherently, nipping at your jawline. “This pretty cunt… jus’ wrapped ‘round me. I could get used to this, you know that?”

Your throat feels raw from your mewling, the exhausted and desperate need to cum written all over your features. “You can have me anyday and anytime. I want you to…” You swallow roughly. “… fill me up, Steven. Take me whenever.” Your tone grows hushed, breathy whispers ghosting over the shell of his ear. “I wanna see how drunk you can get off of my pussy.”

“Holy f-fuck.”

You laugh together, even during the heated moment. “You love it when I talk dirty, don’t you?”

“I just love you. Anything you say, anything you do, it just absolutely riles me up.” His hand finds the nape of your neck, pulling you to him till your foreheads are touching and your naked bodies beg even harder for release. “God, dovey. You’re a perfect work of art.

“Mmm, I-I’m close.” You gasp out, nails digging into his shoulder blades when his cock begins to hit that unforgivable spot inside you.

Steven takes a moment to pull out of you, running himself against your folds until he dives right back in. His tip prods and prods at your walls, your wetness leaving his prick damp with each deep stroke.

“Fuck, Y/N. S’good, I can’t — oh, hell, I can’t think anymore.” He whines, arms resting on either side of your head as he pounds into you.

“Stevie.”

He shushes you tenderly, thumb sliding across the corners of your eyes to wipe away the brimming tears. “I know, darling. I know. I’ll get you there, promise.” His breath fans out across your lips, and you take advantage of your proximity to reel him in for another drowning kiss.

His thrusts grow sloppy, hips losing their graceful rhythm as he continues to snap into you. He beckons your name like it’s a song on loop, while your tiny whimpers turn into loud wanton groans of lust. He pulls you back into an embrace and sits up again, hooking his arms under your knees so that they’re bent and your ass hovers over his lap.

The position leaves you vulnerable when you hold onto his torso for dear life, fluids making a mess between your bodies.

“I love you.” You croak out, opening your eyes to gaze into Steven’s dilated pupils. “Best friends and more.”

“And I love you.” You moan in tandem, feeling yourselves near your orgasm. “My sweet, perfect Venus.”

You clench around his hard cock, cumming intensely on his length as he cries against your neck. His hands are everywhere, but all you can focus on is the way your cunt contracts around him, tugging and milking him till he discovers his own high. This time, Steven doesn’t shy away from moaning and allows himself those deserved minutes of relief as you ride out your orgasms together.

“Oh, my god.”

Momentarily, neither you or Steven move from the rug. He keeps you on his cock, too scared to face the emptiness that’ll come once you leave him. But it seems that you share the same sentiment, sighing against his bicep as you draw circles on the back of his hand.

He decides to break the comfortable silence.

“I do okay?”

Steven can feel your smile form against his skin, eyes sleepy and droopy from where your head lays. “You did so good.”

“You wanna get cleaned up?”

“Please.”

With ease, Steven helps you off of him, already missing the comfort and warmth of your core as you both shakily rise to your feet. For a split second, it’s awkward — your palms shift to cup your naked breasts, while his limbs fumble to fetch you a quilt from the couch till he realizes his own indecency.

But then you share another bubbly laugh and offer the other half of your quilt to Steven, who doesn’t hesitate to cozy up beside you and have you lead one another to the bathroom. You take him under your clothed wing, ankles bumping together clumsily as he finds the light by the sink and quietly flicks it on.

He unravels himself from the quilt first and sits by the edge of your bathtub while he waits for the water to heat up. You watch him lovingly from the doorframe, tired and hair matted, but nevertheless, Steven thinks you look ravishing.

“Come on now.” The Londoner makes grabby hands towards you, taking the blanket from your hickey-covered frame and folding it neatly by the bathroom counter.

You sit with him in the tub — back to his chest, his back to the tile, your hands interwoven amongst the soapy suds and lavender, chamomile-scented bubbles.

A soft sigh. A gentle kiss to the top of your head. An adoring chuckle as your lover brushes his nose against your ear and tells you stories of how the sun loved the moon.

Like clockwork.

Steven is everywhere. On your lips, the scent that wafts through your closet, your bedsheets and the Persian rug in your living room, in how you make your tea, in what mug you drink water out of, what songs you play to start your morning.

But most of all, he lingers in the unfinished painting on your easel. Jaw sharp and nose prominent, eyes youthful yet wise, lips pillowy and inviting.

He is in the shades of brown, pastel pinks and the added hue of orange from how his marked skin glistens in candlelight.

He is your Venus.

Not the goddess, but the planet.

Either way, neither of them are able to truly equate your love for him.

6K notes · View notes

itgirlgyu · 4 months

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would txt help you pass love notes in the class?

ˀˀ 🍓 ＇、˖ 📝!! txt OT5! random hcs.

YEONJUN...

he's gonna start giggling as soon as he gets the notes because he loves the idea of young love.

literally squeaks with hand on his mouth

brother doesn't even know that the teacher is digging holes on his head rn

somehow the idea it young love snatching too quick ( also getting blamed somehow for ruining your chances) gets his stomach churning and his heart hurting (he breaks out in hives if he thinks ppl hate him)

so when the teacher tries to grab the note

he panics and ends up stuffing it down his mouth.

now he's sitting in the nurse's office with an upset stomach and a rumor that yeonjun likes eating papers.

you come to visit him with tears in your eyes and a bouquet of flowers for his sacrifice.

SOOBIN...

literally cold shoulders anyone that is pspsing towards him

like you could be scratching his shoulder with your nails for him to pay attention to you so you can ask him for help.

his shirt is bleeding but he refuses to turn his face in case he gets roped into this bs

you can't literally physically move his head like this man has an iron resolute

he IS NOT TURNING BACK.

he is NOT getting himself into dumb shit like this and risking getting caught with a juvenile ass slip.

like get the hint ffs

lowkey a snob but he's also very cute so he gets away with shit.

teacher: you're late soobie boobie doobie :(

soobin: erm aegyo? 🙄

lowkey a teacher's pet as in

the teacher is mad heart eyes for him and let's him cheat in tests.

BEOMGYU...

hundred percent on board but

first he is curious so he like tries to slyly read the paper

gasps very loudly in a very quiet classroom

when the teacher catches his ass he is very keen tattling whose note it actually is

his eyes are actually shining while he tells about whose note it is and how innocent he is

literally pulls a half eaten bag of chips discreetly from his backpack to eat while he watches you get your ass handed back to you

melts the chips in mouth so that he doesn't get caught.

like so now YOU ARE DISCREET??!

probably gets jumped after school

TAEHYUN...

contrary to popular belief,

taehyun is a very social person and also lowkey a people pleaser.

so when he gets asked and he's starry eyed like

“leave this up to me friend”

he is literally studying the movement of the teachers feet and how many steps it takes for the teacher to reach the end of the backboard

he is pulling a calculator out and scribbling into his notes to count the sequence of his footsteps.

has already recruited five other persons to act as distraction and two others as envoys.

he makes sure to slide past benches, avoid the teacher's hawk gaze and all those cinematic tasks to help you pass the slip.

you promise to name your first child after him.

HUENING KAI...

you think he's gonna refuse you politely.

but he's very efficient surprisingly.

rather than passing the notes through a few more benches.

he decides to take one for the team and goes up to the teacher to ask a few questions to stall him.

“what came first professor? chicken or egg?“

“... this is political history kai.. “

“so you don't know professor 🤨”

ends up gaslighting the professor into a whole ass debate about the origin of this question and how much it has affected the history throughout the years.

you're deciding the destination for your honeymoon while all these are taking place.

kai ends up getting a recommendation letter for his out of box thinking and you get a s/o

it's a win win

COPYRIGHTS RESERVED TO ITGIRLGYU 23'. FEEDBACKS AND REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED!

PERM' TAGLIST: @impureperhaps @full-sunnies @ox1-lovesick @jisungsdaydreamer @wonioml @1921choi @forever-in-the-sky2 @gyuletters

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lumilasi · 1 year

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Final piece for my color palette series, this time with Shura in his spirit form. I wanted to finish this series before new years so...here it is. I'll probs post them all together later.

(yes, those reds and purples also came from this palette, using different layer types and opacity levels. Maybe someday I'm brave enough to just stick to the colors I have at first glance, but for now I like exploring all the shades I can get outta them heh)

#artists on tumblr #digital art #color palette challenge #oc illustration #illustration #lumi’s art scribbles #lumi’s chaotic creations #lumi's chaotic creations #lumi's art scribbles #Gouken Shura #Telepaths #fantasy #manga #anime #colorful #starry sky #kureshima bathhouse

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ymaohoh · 6 months

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Beltane Eve - Halsin x Female Tav (NSFW)

Just a one-shot between our favourite druid and a druid Tav character. I've purposefully tried to make her as vague as possible so this could be a Halsin x reader. Definitely NSFW.

(Words - 8,549)

Warnings: lots of smut, kinky druid sex, oral, size kink

Also on AOO

Beltane Eve

She breathed in the warm springtime air and let it fill her lungs. The weather was getting hotter now and she relished the feeling of sunlight grazing and caressing her skin after so many long days of darkness. The light tickled her skin like loving fingers and she sighed happily. It made her feel cheerful. Joyful even.

She had spent those hard days in the dank cities of the Underdark and the terrifying Shadowlands. Both of those places had sickened her to her soul and nearly made her forget what a starry night sky looked like. She had bravely persevered and battled on because she knew what she and her companions were doing was bigger and more important than her own wellbeing. She would gladly sacrifice her peace of mind for what they were fighting to achieve.

A safe and thriving world. She thought about the Shadowlands and how they were already mending from the curse. That was worth all of the heartache.

Still, that very first moment of stepping out into the fresh air was as good as a health tonic. It tended to her battered body and stitched up the fibres of her being so that she was once again whole.

As a druid she understandably felt more connected to the world around her than maybe the wizards or barbarians in her company did. She drew strength from the rich tapestry of life all around; the feeling of velvet grass beneath her feet, the murmur of birdsong, the tart smell of some flowers growing close by that were on the turn. These primal things gave her life and sustained her.

Life sustained her.

It was just after midday and she had walked a mile or so from the main camp in pursuit of a quiet spot where she could meditate and embrace the new lush scenery around them. Nobody from her camp had noticed though she left a scribbled note saying she would be safe. They were camped on the outskirts of Baldur’s Gate now and everyone in her party was distracted by the idea of exploring the nearby village of Rivington. The thought was tempting and she too was excited by the idea of jumping back into the hustle and bustle of city life after being on the quiet road for so long. Even Astarion, who had dubbed the people of the town ‘boors’, looked eager to reacquaint himself with some hard liquor and soft bedding.

She thought about the opportunities that such a place could offer; good food, merry music, hopefully some stimulating companionship. She had spent time in many human cities around the land and found them all to be similar in their pursuits, and expected that Rivington and Baldur’s Gate would be no different.

She was eager to drink it all in.

Though perhaps she should bathe and comb out her hair first?

Eyeing a secluded riverbank, she decided that this spot was as good as any. The water of the river seemed to beckon to her and she untied the belt at her waist. She shrugged the worn fabric of her robes from her shoulders and let them drop to a heap on the muddy bank. The robes had cost her a moderate pile of gold from Dammon but she had no real attachment to her clothing or belongings. Let them get creased and muddy - who cared? Her feet were already unbound as was her preference and she dipped them into the refreshing chill of the river. A moan of sorts escaped her lips when the water lapped against the skin of her thighs.

She took her time bathing in the river and washing herself. Her hands caressed her skin and she even let her fingers dip down between her legs to touch herself. It had been almost two weeks since she’d felt any pleasure there and the absence of touch - of any contact - was something she was unused to.

Eventually she returned to the bank and eyed her flimsy smallclothes. She hesitated for only a second before she reluctantly slipped them on. She didn’t know the area well and it would be unfortunate if some farmer or woodsman stumbled upon her in nothing but her skin.

She wouldn’t have minded. She felt so at ease naked that clothing made no real difference to her but she knew humans had silly ideas about such matters.

She recalled the early days of their adventures and one incident when she innocently walked naked back to her tent after bathing. Such an action was as normal to her as breathing and she paid no notice to her companions as she knelt by the fire and twisted the water from her hair. Back in her grove nobody would have cared one bit yet she’d looked up to see them all staring at her. Some, she’d noted wryly, with wanton smiles but poor Wyll and Gale looked as if they’d been dunked in cold water. Though she didn’t agree with human expectations, she still didn’t want her companions - and later friends - to feel awkward in their shared living space. She’d made sure to at least wear her smallclothes around the camp following that night though she still slept unclothed.

Interestingly the only one of her companions who had not looked at all was Halsin. Her gaze had flitted across to where he usually made camp (as it seemed to do more and more these days) but found him stoically looking elsewhere. This had intrigued her as she assumed he’d be the last person to care about such things. She found him intriguing. He was a figure from campfire stories and legends and was renowned throughout the land by elves and humans alike. She’d heard tales about his mighty deeds ever since she was a babe nursing at her mother’s breast. That he should be journeying with her now - and actually pledged her his loyalty - was almost unimaginable. She wanted sorely to get to know him better.

Yet…would he even want to share with her? She was twenty-six years of age. A grown woman in the eyes of the human world (long past marrying age in truth) but to a wood elf this meant she was still a child in the eyes of some. Young, inexperienced, undisciplined. What could he possibly want to know about her?

She had known some of her other companions. She’d made love to Astarion that very night by the campfire but denied his bite. She’d also known Shadowheart’s gentle love a few nights following under the blazing stars. Then there had been others - Tieflings, Harpers, tavern bards - who she’d come to love and share her heart and body with. She’d been interested to pursue a night with Gale after a moment channelling the weave but after knowing more about his nature (that he could only pledge his desire to one and expect the same in return) she’d had to let him down gently. She respected that other people lived their lives that way but it was not for her and she didn’t want to give hope where there was none.

She remained in her smallclothes and stretched out on the grass. The sun was high in the sky now and she bathed in its warmth. She allowed herself to breathe in and out slowly and let her eyelids flutter close. She focused on the world and noises around her and felt herself fall into a deep trance of meditation. Meditation had always soothed her mind and refreshed her body. She felt that it helped with her spellcasting too. In her mind, a druid couldn’t manipulate nature completely if they didn’t know it well. It was important that she take the time to immerse herself in it. Breathe it in.

She wasn’t sure how long she lay there for. It could have been minutes or hours, it mattered not to her.

But then - a noise.

It was as faint as a whisper but still she heard it. She wasn’t sure if it was through her own ears or through the vibrations of the air. An attack? An ambush? A split second pause and then she felt the corners of her lips lift into a smile.

She knew that Halsin was standing a few paces away among the trees behind her. She could tell that he had not meant to stumble upon her now but he didn’t want to leave either. He was letting her choose whether or not to invite him into her moment of tranquillity.

She did. “Aerister.” Teacher.

“Forgive the interruption, little one. I was hunting nearby for our evening meal and would not have disturbed you, but then I saw how at peace you looked here among the wilds. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen such a welcome sight.”

She liked the way he spoke and the warmth she heard there. Ever since meeting the acclaimed druid she’d always taken pleasure in the rich sound of his voice - whether it was gentle like now or roaring commands on the battlefield. His words always held weight and meaning.

And she trusted him. As a fellow wood elf and first druid he was her elder (in rank, ability, age) and naturally she owed him her respect, but she gave it freely.

She also liked the way he called her little one. It was an ongoing jest following her comment on his size when they first met.

“There’s nothing to forgive. Your presence soothes me,” she spoke quietly. “Stay with me.”

At her invitation Halsin sat down and lay his weapon on the grass. Even without looking she could smell fresh blood on his knife and knew he’d been successful on his hunt. A deer or boar carcass would be sat somewhere nearby, ready to nourish them later. She wondered that he’d used a weapon to hunt with at all when he could just as easily shapeshift.

“You’ve been in the water,” he noted, breaking up her thoughts. “I too found a moment to enjoy the lake further along the bank but I admit I’m not one for swimming. I imagine you spent a lot of your childhood swimming and playing on a riverbank someplace in the south. You didn’t grow up in the Emerald Grove.”

“Good guess. We spent more time in the water than in the woods, truth be told. Being here like this makes me think about those days. They were happy, safe…or at least they felt that way to a child.”

She imagined she sounded very naive to someone like him. He would have been one of the warriors fighting to ensure those years for her and the other children did indeed feel safe.

She went on…“I can’t find the right words but laying like this in the sunlight...it is magic. It gives me life. I have missed it greatly. I’m not a creature for dark and cruel spaces. Now that we are finally here in the open again I want to make the most of it. Who knows where we will venture next…”

“I understand.”

“I know. I think you’re the only one here who could.”

She finally opened her eyes to look up at him and found his steady gaze already upon her. He smiled at her words - like one confidant to another. A thread of understanding seemed to flow between them and in that moment she felt that she did truly know him. Maybe she didn’t know what he liked best for supper, but she knew his heart. She watched as his eyes flickered to the light freckles that adorned her arms and then to the line of her sunlit body.

She was conscious that her cotton smallclothes were very light indeed and he would be able to see the outline of her breasts through the fabric should he wish to. As if reading her thoughts (maybe he did) he began to untie the laces of his own leather armour. He stopped when he was wearing only the bottom half of his robes and just like her he leant back on his forearms to enjoy the sunshine on his skin.

She would be lying to say she tried to look away.

His tanned chest was broad and powerful like the rest of him and she knew she could spend an age studying the muscles that lined his arms, his shoulders, his back. His waist was narrow in comparison but even that was thicker than both her palms laid out flat. When he reached up to re-tie his dark hair she watched how the muscles of his stomach moved and contracted.

She had seen Halsin fighting beside her on the battlefield and knew he was an impressively terrifying figure in the eyes of their enemies. His strong hands looked like they could easily crush a skull or wield a broadsword.

She imagined those same hands making love and a shiver ran down her back.

She suddenly wanted to trace the intricate lines of his ink markings with her fingers more than anything else in the world. Battle scars lined his figure and she wanted to know the story behind every one.

Calm yourself, she thought. Remember that he did not look upon you before.

So instead she sighed and she allowed her fingers to weave into the long grass beside her. It felt like an anchor almost. “Might I ask your counsel? Druid to druid. I feel so attune with everything today,” she admitted. “Every blade of grass…every leaf in the tree…I can even feel the heartbeats of the animals hiding underfoot. Is this truly just a reaction to being stifled in shadow for so long? I feel so strong today. So powerful. Do you feel it too?”

“I think you’ve been spending too much time with vampires and sages that you’ve forgotten your seasons. Today marks the first day of summer. It’s no wonder that you’re feeling this way, the world around us is calling to be heard.”

Understanding washed over her. “Ah…Beltane!”

“Beltane, Cétshamhain, Calan Mai…it’s known by so many different names but it remains the same in essence,” Halsin added. “A powerful day for those who are attune to the earth and its riches. It’s normal to feel more aware of your magic during this time. Were I back home we’d have a whole week of celebrations and festivities. I would be called upon to lead some of the ceremonies.”

“It was the same back home. We would have a great feast to mark the evening itself and then light a bonfire as big as a hillside. I would braid the yellow may flowers into my hair and dance around the fire with my sisters. We sometimes wouldn’t stop until sunrise.”

“I would have liked to see that. It’s one of my favourite celebrations.”

She heard the note of wistfulness in his tone. She thought about the many years she’s enjoyed the festival herself and felt for a moment very home sick. She used to love taking part in the dancing and feasting though due to her age she was not permitted to formally join in with the most important ceremony that always took place very late at night. Only the most privileged and experienced were allowed to do it.

All of a sudden she had a thought and spoke before she could stop herself. “You say you led some of the ceremonies. Did you…did you join in with the rite?”

Halsin burst into laughter and she smiled weakly, her cheeks suddenly aflame.

“Of course. Many times. It was expected that I perform it.”

The rite was a very important ritual where a chosen male (selected for his vigour and status) was expected to mate with many partners over the course of Beltane Eve. By spilling his seed into them and onto the earth beneath them, it was done as a way to honour the gods and increase the chances of a fertile summer. In addition, it was hoped that the blessed unions between man and woman might also produce children that were thought to be extra lucky.

There was also said to be a hunt involved in the ritual and she wondered if the Emerald Grove celebrated that particular part of the ritual too.

The idea of Halsin completing the rite was certainly intriguing to her though she should have known someone of his rank would be asked to complete it. She suddenly wanted to know all about it.

In her enthusiasm she sat up and leaned towards him. They were sitting very close to one another and as she moved the line of her thigh brushed against his own.

“I was never permitted to take part…though of course I always wanted the honour. One of my sisters was chosen last year and I remember helping her prepare though I was so twisted up with jealousy. I had hoped that this year might have been my time and I could be bred,” she admitted. “But here we are. I suppose fate has another plan for me. I should try and be content with that.”

In response to her words, Halsin placed his hand on top of hers and she liked how his fingers looked threaded against her own. His fingers were large which was expected for someone of his size and again she wondered how they might feel on her. His thumb brushed against her own and it made her shiver again.

She looked back up and met his gaze. She didn’t know what she was expecting to see in his eyes - sympathy maybe - but she was taken aback to find a blazing heat there. He was looking at her like he knew exactly what she was thinking about and he liked it. She thought that she might fall into that blaze if she didn’t catch herself.

“Had you been at the Emerald Grove, I would have mated with you gladly. More than gladly. I would have not been able to see anyone else’s face but yours. You must know that I can barely control myself around you.”

Her eyes widened and words spilled out of her without much thought. “But you don’t look at me. The others, they do. They’ve made their intentions and desires well known to me…but you…I had thought you were looking elsewhere. That someone else held your attention.”

He really desired her?

Halsin reached up and ever so gently brushed the back of his hand against her cheekbone. In response she turned her head and she pressed a soft kiss to his palm which made him draw in his breath.

“Then the fault is mine for not confessing this sooner. My heart, I believe that life has a plan for us all and our meeting was no mere coincidence. Even now, sitting here together on Beltane Eve, cannot be by chance. I admit you are not what I expected for one so young as yourself, but I have seen you show love to those who do not always deserve it and an openness which moves my heart. You show greater wisdom than even I at times,” he admitted. “My gaze has been drawn to you more often than not over the last few weeks. I, who have taken many lovers in my time and experienced all manner of love, feel such a stirring for you that it has taken me by surprise…I admit I have tried to look away from you at times but only to keep a leash on my desires. ”

His words made her tremble but she made herself bite out the next words so she knew exactly what it was he was asking of her and there could be no doubt. She wanted to know his heart truly before taking what could be an incredible plunge. “You want to be with me?”

“I’m saying that I want you. I want to taste you, to consume you, to give you such joy that will leave you weeping. I want you panting my name into my ear so hard that I can carry the memory of it with me into our final battle. You say that I have not looked at you but I have spent hours lying awake thinking about all the different ways I want to take my pleasure with you...”

He cut off and she saw a glow of light erupt from his body as he fought back his natural urge to change form. He took a deep breath to steady himself and the light disappeared.

“…Sitting so close to you now on this riverbank clouds my senses. It’s intoxicating. Your voice, your scent. I can see the dips and curves of your body beneath that shift and I want to rip it off you. It’s taking all I have not to lose control again, but I will not touch you unless you want me to. I swear it.”

His face was so close to her own that she could feel his hot breath against her skin. She took this opportunity to study his face and looked at the long jagged scars, the scarlet ink markings, the liquid gold in his eyes. She knew then that she had wanted him physically from the moment she first saw him.

“You are so beautiful, Halsin.”

Her reply served to soothe some of the strain away from his shoulders and instead he grinned at her. “I am nothing in comparison to you. You who draws the eye and enchants everyone we meet. Your beauty must be the envy of even the gods above.”

She pressed another kiss to his hand - but this time allowed her lips to brush over one of his fingers too. She made sure not to break eye contact as she let it pass through her lips and onto her eager tongue. She heard the rumblings of a growl come from his chest. Elated, she licked along its length and then slowly pulled away.

She saw him shudder with want.

“How many times have I been distracted by that little mouth? Your lips feel as soft as woven silk,” he murmured. “Tell me that you want me too. I must hear it from those lips.”

“I’ve wanted you since the moment we met.”

He groaned in relief and pulled her fully into the strong embrace of his arms. “You are not bound to another?” he insisted. “I know that you’ve shared your time with the vampire and some of our other bold companions. Do they not have some hold over you?”

She smiled widely. “Aerister teacher, it is not in my nature to belong to only one person. I may be young like you say but I have had my fair share of lovers and have always loved fiercely and freely. I believe that to share your heart and body with another person is one of life’s greatest pleasures. Even if only for one glorious moment. I am not bound to anyone and I feel that you may feel the same way…Halsin, I will gladly share this day with you.”

“You are a wondrous creature,” he said in awe and tightened his hold. “Then let us celebrate this Beltane Eve together and be as one, as fate intended.”

The words had barely left his lips when they descended on her own. It was both everything she expected and surprising at the same time. She climbed onto his lap and pressed herself as closely as she could to the line of his body, aching for the heat of his skin against her own. Halsin’s kiss was hard and demanding and she gave into it gladly. She allowed her fingers to finally grip hold of his strong arms and then trace them up and down. She could feel the power and strength that lay untapped beneath his skin. It only fuelled her desire further.

His lips moved down from her mouth to her jaw, and then further to the skin of her throat. He kissed her like a man starved. When he reached the sensitive spot between her neck and shoulders and dragged his teeth against it, she hissed at the quick wave of pleasure.

She felt herself growing warm for him and he must have scented this.

“I must taste you, little one, I cannot wait any longer. Lay down here and bare yourself to me.”

Not needing to be asked twice, she lay back as he begged and opened her legs so that he could see her glistening core. Halsin breathed out when he saw that and gripped hold of her thighs so tightly she knew they would be marked tomorrow. He knelt down between her knees and ravenously licked his tongue into her juices. She allowed her head to fall back as another wave of pleasure took over and she uttered his name like it was a prayer. His tongue set to work immediately as he probed deeply into her flesh. His movements were slow and languorous. He was tasting her thoroughly and she enjoyed every sensation.

Above them she saw that the sun was beginning to dip low behind the mountains and they had maybe an hour left of light before it turned to dusk. She knew dusk was the time of romance, of secret trysts, of endless possibilities. It seemed rather too fitting for what they were doing now. The sight of Halsin between her legs like this, surrounded by nature’s beauty, seemed terribly poetic and right.

He made a noise that sounded like a growl and draped her legs over his massive shoulders so that he could explore her depths further. She felt one of his wonderful fingers probe gently into her fold alongside his tongue so she twisted her fingers through his dark hair and pulled him even closer.

She could feel the familiar waves of her pleasure begin to grow but she didn’t allow herself to fall apart completely. Before she reached the beginning of her climax, she pulled back on his hair to cease his efforts. She knew that her chest was pounding and he looked at her in surprise as he knelt back. She could see that his eager mouth shone with her juices. She sat up and licked carefully along his bottom lip so she could taste herself.

Halsin was looking at her with longing. “Tell me how you would have me, my heart. Be my guide. Tell me what your desires are and I will be at your command.”

Images crossed her vision of all the things she wanted to do with him then and it was difficult to choose. She found that she was usually the dominant partner in her coupling but that felt presumptuous when it came to someone like Halsin. She thought about the hardness she had felt when sitting atop his lap and knew then what she wanted most of all.

“I want you inside of me. I want to ride you.”

Heat smouldered within his eyes and she could see he wanted that too. He began unlacing the bottom half of his robes and her eyes widened at the measure of him.

“Amakiir flower…I would be gentle. I am…larger…than most and you have a slight frame. You may need to start slowly if you wish to ride me.” She knew that he wasn’t saying this out of ego like some men might but he was truly wanting to prepare her for his size which was very large. She had never been with a man with such a large member. She wasn’t even sure if she’d seen one.

Yet she was no blushing virgin either. She lifted her shift and then climbed on top of him. Her knees found purchase against the ground either side of his hips.

Halsin placed his hands on her waist to help hold her up as she positioned herself so that his tip aligned with her entrance. He was already hard and waiting for her. Slowly and carefully she began to lower herself onto his length. She could feel the skin of her core stretching in response and though it stung it made her desire for him only increase ten fold. He felt so thick and warm within her, filling her completely. She lowered herself another tortuous inch.

She could feel that she was getting so wet for him and that the scent of her arousal was making it hard for him to leash the animal in him. He was doing his best to hold himself still but the effort of this was making him grip onto her tight. She could see that the animal in him wanted to bury himself deep within her but Halsin, ever the considerate and giving partner, would never put his needs above her own.

She inched down bit by bit. When she thought that she had taken in as she could take, she began rocking her hips gently back and forth. Now pleasure began to wrap itself around any discomfort.

His hands moved from her hips across her body and she felt through her bliss him ripping apart the clasp of her smallclothes and tearing them from her flesh. Now her breasts were free Halsin made quick work of touching and admiring them. His touch was no longer gentle and she moaned when he took her nipple between his fingers and pinched.

“Oakfather preserve me. You feel so tight around me,” he murmured. “You look glorious. The most beautiful creature I have ever laid eyes on. That you’re here with me now…it is a gift that I cannot possibly deserve.”

Her movements began to quicken as she found her stride and she pushed down against his chest.

“You deserve it all and more. This feels so good, Halsin. So right. You fill me completely. ”

He tugged her down to him then and she relished the feel of her chest against his own. He pressed a searing kiss to her lips.

She cried out when he began to thrust his hips upwards into her, going suddenly deeper and deeper. She wrapped her thighs around him and tried her hardest to keep up but it was beginning to feel like a frenzy.

“Halsin,” she panted. She panted his name over and over without caring how loud she was being. Let her cries shatter the sky above. All that mattered to her right now was the wonderful feeling of him rutting up into her.

She had known love before and had known every sexual position conceivable, but she had never once felt this close to another person. It wasn’t just the feelings he was inspiring inside of her, but there was something deeper afoot taking place. She could feel it. Some magic that was unravelling all around them and tying the two of them together. She saw the glint of knowing in his eyes and knew he was thinking the same thing.

“We are becoming one,” he said. “And the earth around us is taking heed. It is blessing this union.”

“Then let us give it something it wants,” she replied before she could shatter completely.

Without another word she once again purposefully ceased her movements though it took everything in her to do so. She pressed her shaking hands against his chest and he immediately stopped as well though she could see the effort pained him. His hands came up to cradle her face and he looked startled.

“Wait, my love…” she whispered and he obliged. Shakily, she managed to climb to her feet and took a few steps back though her legs felt useless. The loss of his warmth and size inside her made her feel incomplete and her body ached for him. Her back came into contact with a tree and she leant back thankfully against the rough bark as she caught her breath.

She heard him say her name and ask if she was well. She nodded.

He rose and took a cautious step towards her. Her eyes fell again to his naked body and the strong powerful muscles of his thighs. If she were a fawn he would have no difficulty in hunting her.

She licked her lips before speaking. “I want to complete the rite with you. I want you to chase me.”

She hardly recognised her own voice for it sounded more wanton, more greedy, than she had ever felt towards anyone before. For a moment she was worried that she had annoyed Halsin but as he drew closer there was a look on his face that was both savage and full of heated desire which came close to overwhelming her. She could see that he liked this idea. He liked it a lot.

He wanted to chase her. Wanted to claim her as his partner. Wanted to complete the rite with her this Beltane Eve.

He had, of course, done this before (many times he’d said) but this would be her first time. She hoped she would be a match for him.

She was trembling in her desire but when he beamed at her she returned it. “You are sure? I won’t be able to stop myself again once we begin. It’ll only end with my taking you.”

She took another deep breath. She turned to face the wooded area behind them which was nearly dark now, save the last lingering rays of sunset that glittered through the leaves. She looked back over her shoulder at him and gave him a truly wicked smile. Her mind was set.

“Try and catch me, Oakfather. If you can.”

She used her powers to shapeshift and wasted no time in bolting into the darkness. She could hear laughter behind her and the familiar sound of Halsin changing shape as well, though she did not stop to check.

Her usual shape to transform into was a wolf and that’s what she changed into instinctively this evening. The sleekness of the animal made it possible for her to charge through the trees without worrying about the pesky roots below that might trip her. She bounded through the woods, propelling herself as quickly as she could forwards. She had no idea how far she’d come but the trees were getting larger and more dense. She didn’t know the layout of the forest though she could still hear the waters of the river somewhere to her left.

She knew she only had precious minutes before Halsin would catch her. Though he didn’t know the forest either, he was far more experienced with hunting in his bear form and more attune with its hearing and smell. He knew her scent already and would be using it to track her.

Though she was eager for his touch again, she didn’t want this to end so soon.

She veered to the right and kept on running.

She wondered if maybe she had a chance of actually winning this chase - could that even be possible? - but then the sound of padded feet came to her woof ears. No, there was no chance. He was close behind her.

What to do then if she couldn’t outrun him? She could hide. She came to a small clearing and quickly swerved behind a knot of old twisted trees. She flattened herself against the floor of the forest amongst the pine needles and grass. If she kept very very still then there was a possibility that he might race past without thinking and she could use that hiccup to give him the slip. She kept as still as she could as she heard the noise of his massive bear form come into sight. Though she knew it was Halsin the huge beast was scary nonetheless with its sharp teeth and claws. To her surprise it didn’t look like he meant to stop and her plan might actually work, but then he slowed in his movements.

He knew she was hiding but he didn’t know where yet.

She kept low to the ground and moved very slowly. If she timed this right she might be able to slip past while he was still working out her scent.

She should have known that Halsin knew exactly what she was planning. He was not going to let his prey get away from him that easily.

And so she leapt - and he leapt - and she felt herself being tackled mid air by his large frame. As they came tumbling to the forest floor she managed to change back into her human form and she landed with a soft thump on the grass.

She lay there panting, listening hard, and then…movement beside her.

Halsin had changed back into his usual form too and was reaching for her. She pushed herself up on her elbows and opened her mouth to tell him I’m okay... but the words never left her lips because as soon as he caught hold he climbed on top of her and pinned her down. She recognised his movements without even needing words. He had caught her. She was his. He would claim her. This was the rite.

A wave of absolute lust and frenzy took over them both then. He gripped hold of her legs to pull them up around his waist and then he pushed with all of his considerable might right into her.

She cried out at the bittersweet feeling of pain and pleasure as he drove right into her core but all she could think about was wanting him deeper and deeper inside of her. It was an urge now - a dark urge - one that demanded satisfaction or be damned. Unlike before when they were inspired by their desires this had turned into something primal and primitive like the world around them. He was thrusting into her with pure animalistic need now.

She twisted her legs up around his waist tightly as he slammed her back again and again into the ground beneath them. Her fingers scraped against the soil and earth and it drove up between her nails. His own hands were gripping hold of her so tightly that she couldn’t move away even if she wanted to. He had her completely in his thrall.

Heat rolled off him in waves and she clung to him, pressing herself as close to his fiery body as she could.

He was so thick and deep inside of her now that moaning was not enough and she began screaming out her desire. The pleasure that she was feeling was like nothing she had ever felt before and it began to edge her completely to the brink of destruction. She screamed out into the night air and felt herself raking her nails down his arms and back. She bit down hard onto his shoulder and she tasted blood.

When she came, she came sudden and hard and it felt like a thunderbolt had struck her.

When he came it was with a roar that had the very trees around them trembling.

Hearts racing, they collapsed against one another and lay very still. She thought she could sense the world around them taking a deep breath too. Whatever magic they had woven this night with their passionate mating - it had surely been accepted and blessed.

She felt a soft brush of lips against her forehead and then again at her temple. Halsin was very gently moving to his elbows in an effort to shift his weight from her.

He looked at her and she found she had tears in her eyes. She began to smile. She began to laugh.

“That was magical.”

Halsin laughed too and the kiss he pressed to her lips was so full of affection and love that it threatened to unravel her into desire again.

“You are not injured?” he asked. “The rite can be overwhelming, especially on your first attempt. It’s a very old and powerful ritual but the forces at play are not necessarily gentle or kind. I am sorry if I caused you any harm in my pursuit.”

“Some soreness probably, but I can heal that myself. Halsin, I’m…I have so many questions but I also need to rest…I…”

She could feel every nerve in her body tingling and it felt like her body was alight with some force she could not name. It felt as if she’d taken three health tonics all at once. She felt that right now she was at the pinnacle of her magic and could level an entire city in a blaze of cinders should she wish to. Her words came out in a rush as she was unable to focus her thoughts.

He interrupted her before she could go on. “Peace. I understand how you’re feeling and I will answer any questions you have, but first of all let me take care of you. We have mated now on Beltane Eve and it’s my responsibility as your mate to make sure you are cared for. I will make us a fire and find some nourishment. Under other circumstances there would be a grand feast to follow but I’m sure I can find us something.”

She trusted him. He pulled out from her but as he did so his seed ran down her body to the back of her legs. There seemed to be so much of it. She sat up herself and ran a finger down her stomach where some of it gathered. She caught his eye and she could’ve sworn she saw a proud glimmer there.

“Kyre…” he murmured, kissing her cheek. Perfect.

He did as he promised and found them a safe spot to rest close to the riveredge. She cast her gaze over their surroundings and if she squinted hard enough she could make out some lights far back along the river where she thought their main camp might be. No doubt her companions would see that she and Halsin were both missing and put two and two together.

He offered to carry her but she felt fine walking unaided, though she spotted some blood running down her legs as well as his seed. It was not surprising given the passion in their mating and his size. She cast a quick healing spell on herself to mend any internal harm yet did nothing to clean herself right away as it was a testament to their act. Bruises would come along soon also and she could see scratch marks on her arms and knees.

She felt a wave of pride in the thought of what she’d just done. In what they had done together. Nobody she knew had ever mated like that on a Beltane Eve. With a first druid, no less. The stories told around the campfire had left her utterly unprepared but she knew now there could be no human or Elvish words to paint it just right.

She watched silently as he summoned a fire and gathered something for them to eat. As he did so she noted again the strong hard lines of his naked body and allowed herself to eye the frenzied scratches that now graced his back. She could see the bite mark she had left on his shoulder too. Again, she felt proud about this. She had marked him too.

Incredibly, she felt another glimmer of desire and longing fill her belly at the sight of him but she knew he was right and she should eat something. It was important that those who joined in with the rite were cared for and looked after their coupling. During usual Beltane celebrations there would be a great feast following the mating where they would eat and drink their fill and celebrate with music and laughter.

As it was they sat alone together on the riverbank in the glow of the fire, and they were at peace. The world around them was the only witness to their union.

When Halsin sat down behind her, he gently wrapped one of his large arms around her shoulders and drew her to him so that she was leaning back against his chest. His powerful legs were sprayed out beside her own. The gesture was tender. Comforting. She allowed her head to roll back so that her pointed ear was next to his skin. She could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

He presented her with an offering of some fruits and goodberries and she fell on it ravenously. “Eat, little one. Tend to your needs.”

“Are you not hungry?”

He smiled. He began to use his fingers to comb out the new snarls in her long hair. “The rite does different things to everyone and I’ve found that I do not require as much rest as others after it. I am well sustained on the magic around us and by the rite itself. You need not worry. But it is a pleasure to care for you and see to your needs. It is thought in my grove that by doing so any fruits of our union may be doubly blessed. Though…I admit I wish to care for you regardless. You were wonderful, by the way, I could not have prayed for a better partner in this. I’m very very thankful that you gave me the gift of chasing you too.”

She smiled, though she probably had berry juice around her lips. She could feel that she was still shaking but Halsin’s free hand moved up and down her arms slowly to try and steady her.

“The fruits of our labour…the offering to the gods for a fertile and bountiful summer…but there may be a child as well,” she said. “I could feel a twist of something while you were inside of me. Something was blessing us. I could feel it.”

He didn’t hesitate in his motions for even a second. “If such a child is born from this union then I will count myself very fortunate. I will love and care for any child of ours that is born from your flesh, as is my nature. Granted a pregnancy is not ideal given our present circumstances and the dangers we face, but ignoring our way of life and setting aside such an important ritual? It would be the same as letting the shadows win, in my eyes.”

She found herself in agreement with that and wondered how many children he'd sired in his lifetime. It was foolish to think that someone such as he had not fathered dozens by now. She, like the rest of her people, had a very relaxed attitude when it came to bearing children and she would leave the outcome to fate as intended.

She put aside the empty bowl and she found herself twisting around to look at him. He was looking at her with such tenderness that she knew in this moment he truly loved her and she him. Their hearts beat as one this night.

“Is it always like this?” she asked. “The rite?”

“No. The chase itself is usually the same, although you got further than most,” he complimented. “But the mating afterwards did, in my experience, feel very different. I have never ended a coupling so sure that it had been seen and blessed. With you it was like the very heavens were watching us and were pleased by what they saw. And you are so very lovely.”

A fleeting but sad thought crossed her mind.

“I feel more alive than I have done so in a long time. So attune with the nature around us. I can actually feel the blood pumping around my body. I admit that a part of me is saddened to think that I may never experience such a thing again. You’ve quite ruined me for any other partner,” she teased. “Know that if we survive this next battle, I will come back to the Emerald Grove next year and demand another chance.”

“I will hold you to that. We have Beltane Eve, but there are other important rituals I observe throughout the year. Each one holds its own magic and promise. My heart, you’ll find that coupling with a first druid will never get tiring.” He leant down to capture her lips and when he whispered into the shell of her ear she felt herself shiver. “And I would say that even without those sacred days, I am regarded as a very good lover. I would never leave you wanting. As I told you before I have not felt such a desire for someone in a long time. You have stirred something deep within this old heart whether you meant to or not.”

“You’re saying that even after all of that you desire me still?” she whispered.

She knew that right now she looked like the very crude image Human’s often had of wood elves with her tangled hair, her brazen nakedness, and the mud that still coated her hands and knees. Her lips were stained red with berry juice but she made no effort to rub this away. She looked as wild as she had ever done.

The look in his eyes told her that it was all for the better.

“More.” He stroked his hand down the length of her back. “And if it pleases you I will continue to share my nights with you until a time comes where we must be parted. Just say the word and I will be at your service. Whether you want me alone as we are now…or with another of your choosing.”

Thoughts of sharing Halsin with a third party was enough to make her moan and her fingers moved of their own accord. She trailed them down his stomach and to the hardness that she found waiting below his waist. He was ready for her again. She found herself aching for him.

His hand moved lower to grasp her waist. “The night is still young.”

“And I will have you again, my love.”

Without looking away, she lowered herself down between his legs and she took his full length into her mouth. Halsin hissed with pleasure and the noise drummed through her body, urging her onwards.

He took her again on that riverbank and again in the lake afterwards. He showed her what he liked best (mostly having his mouth on her) and in turn she taught him what she liked (which featured him ramming into her from behind). They learned each other's bodies thoroughly and blessed the night over and over. They spent the entire night pleasing one another in every way they knew how and when the sun rose the next morning they found themselves aching and thoroughly spent.

A/N: Let me know if I should do another one. I'm thinking of doing a Gale/Female Tav next but LOVE this kink honestly.

#halsin #halsin x reader #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #fanfic #smut #halsin x tav #halsin x female tav #halsin bg3 #tav x halsin #baldurs gate

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