#tent seems like the logical next step to me

[charmandabear]

Touch

Summary:

A series of short vignettes illustrating Astarion's relationship to non-sexual touch evolving over time.

Pairing: Astarion/Reader

Rating: M

Word Count: 2.3k

Tags/Warnings: fluff, fluff, and more fluff (with a very brief appearance from possessive!Astarion), act 3 spoilers

Read it on AO3.

Happy Valentine's Day! I originally wrote this as a gift for Cherie and now it's a gift for all of you~

“Really?”

He looked so scared. Like a lost little boy scrambling for something to hold on to. You needed him to know just how much you care, and words didn't seem sufficient.

Slowly, cautiously, you approached him and wrapped your arms around his shoulders. You could feel his whole body tense beneath you, as though he was bracing himself for something terrible. You held onto him, trying to imbue the gesture with all of the feelings of love and affection that you had developed for him since the day he held a dagger to your throat. Soon he softened, his muscles relaxed and you felt his hands gingerly settle around your lower back. But you didn’t want to push your luck with him, so after a moment you stepped back and looked at his bewildered face.

“You… you’re full of surprises, aren’t you?” A hint of a smile touched his lips, before he let out a quiet laugh. “Honestly, I have no idea what we’re doing,” he added, almost conspiratorially. “Or what comes next.” He hesitantly held out a hand, long fingers unfurling like a wounded animal coming to you for help. You gently placed your hand in his, afraid to spook him. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding when he placed his other hand on top of yours.

“But I know that this… This is nice.”

***

You still spent evenings in Astarion’s tent, but now in a companionable silence rather than heated passion. He would read while you plucked on your lute, jotting down notes as they came to you. Occasionally he teased you for hitting a wrong note, or would offer surprisingly insightful feedback on your lyrics. He liked listening to you hum to yourself while you composed, but he would never admit it to you. And when the time came, you would leave for your bedroll to trance separately, just as you always had.

Until one night, when you strapped your lute to your back and started to get to your feet and a strangled noise from Astarion stopped you.

“Yes love, what is it?” you asked, almost worried that something was wrong. The tips of his ears were flushed pink from having recently fed on your blood, and they twitched slightly as he struggled to form the words.

“You can… if you want… trance here tonight. If you’d like that,” he added quickly, petulantly looking away.

Your breath caught in your throat. “Would you? Like that?” The words came out dry and uncomfortable, but you didn’t want your eagerness to scare him away.

“I mean, it’s only logical,” he offered as an excuse. “You’re so exposed out by the fire on your bedroll. It’s safer if you stay in here, with me. Safer for you, of course.” He flashed his signature roguish grin, and you found his deflection charming. You kneeled down beside him and planted a kiss on his forehead.

“You’re right, much safer,” you agreed, and the two of you settled beside each other, foot to head in order to fit in the cramped space. You breathed deeply as you settled into your trance, and you weren’t sure, but you thought you may have felt the back of Astarion’s hand brush against yours.

***

Karlach receiving her second upgrade from Dammon was a momentous occasion. You all sat around the fire, laughing and drinking, while Karlach touched everyone and everything in sight. You would touch her knee when she made a particularly hilarious joke. She pulled Wyll into a headlock while teasing him for how they met. Shadowheart kept stealing little kisses when she thought no one would notice (but you all did.)

What you didn't notice was Astarion grinding his teeth next to you. You didn't see his muscles tense as you grabbed Karlach’s hand, or when she ruffled your hair.

So when it was time for everyone to turn in and you gave Karlach a long hug goodnight, you were surprised when Astarion grabbed your wrist and pulled you out behind the Last Light Inn.

He pushed you up against the stone wall, kissing you fiercely, one hand twisted into your hair and the other pressed into your lower back. Your heart raced as you clung onto him, hands scrambling for purchase on his well-worn shirt.

“Mine,” he growled between kisses, pressing a knee between your legs and the sudden pressure against your mound elicited a light whimper. You pulled him into you, desperate to feel every inch of him in a way you hadn't for so long.

Your head felt cloudy as he broke the kiss, the two of you breathlessly panting. His hands remained tight around you, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your waist.

“What was that about?” you breathed heavily, still reeling from the passionate kiss.

“No one can touch you, you're mine,” he seethed, and immediately returned to his assault on your lips. You turned your head for air and he trailed his hungry kisses down to your neck, scraping his fangs across the healed bite without breaking skin.

“Wait, what?” Your confusion didn't stop the breathy groan that escaped your lips as his tongue ran along the shell of your ear. As much as you were enjoying seeing this side of him again, you pulled him back slightly.

“What?” you repeated, concern coloring your features. He scowled and looked away like a stubborn child.

“I don't like seeing other people touch you when I… can't,” he grumbled. You tried to suppress a laugh.

“I mean, sweetheart… you can,” you tease, touching his face almost as a demonstration. But you stopped as soon as you saw his pained expression.

“But I won't. If it makes you uncomfortable, love, I'll keep my hands to myself,” you said lightly, ducking your face to try to gauge his expression. He let out an exasperated groan and pulled away from you.

“And there you go, being all reasonable and selfless about it,” he grumped, crossing his arms. You reached out and touched his arms, encouraging them to uncross with a little squeeze. He relented and you slid your hands down his arms until they were holding his.

“I'm here, with you. We can go at whatever pace you need,” you said quietly. “But there is something in between no contact at all and having me up against a wall.” You flashed him a flirty smile, and his icy expression melted a bit.

You stood there for a few moments, holding his hands in yours, your thumb lightly stroking the back of his.

“Fine. I'm… I'm trying. Thank you for being patient with me. Although I wouldn't have expected anything less.” His features softened and he looked a little embarrassed by his outburst. You plant a tender kiss on his forehead.

“And like I said, I can keep my hands to myself. I make no promises about Karlach, though.”

***

“I've been dead in the ground for long enough. It's time to try living again.” He turned to you, and very gently, took your hands in his. “With everything that life has to offer.”

Your eyes sparkled as you looked at this man who had been through so much. The man who walked away from the ability to feel the sun on his skin, to see his reflection, to taste food and drink again. The man who chose to keep himself, to keep you, instead.

His hands may have been cold, but he radiated with a warmth you hadn't seen before.

“Meaning…?” You were almost afraid to speak, as though it might break a spell.

“If a night of passion is on offer, I could be persuaded,” he said with his signature charming smile. You studied him closely, trying to figure out if this was another deflection or if he was being sincere.

“Sounds good to me,” you joked, trying to match his tone. He suddenly let go of your hands and you were worried that you did something wrong.

“You know, I didn't care for you when we first met.” His brazenness made you laugh. “But I do now,” he was quick to add. “Being with you is about more than lust or manipulating you into a tactical alliance.” For the first time since you met him, he looked genuinely happy.

“I love you. I love this. And I want it all.”

He placed a hand up to your cheek and you leaned into his palm. You breathed in his scent deep, relishing in the bergamot and rosemary, feeling a tingle where his skin made contact with yours.

He leaned forward and planted an almost featherlight kiss on your lips. You would’ve been content to sit here forever, his hand to your cheek, and you would never want for anything else.

Then again…

***

Your heart shattered when Astarion sprinted off the pier when dawn finally broke the horizon. You knew that he didn’t want you to follow, and it took your entire strength of being to stay put. You were going to miss lazily tracing circles onto his skin as the two of you basked in the warmth of the sun. Getting rid of the tadpole was clearly a net positive, but you were all too aware of the toll it was going to take on him.

The rest of you trudged off to the Elfsong for a much deserved rest. With Wyll and Karlach in Avernus, Lae’zel flying off on the back of a magnificent red dragon, and Astarion still hiding in the shadows, your group felt small. You tried to laugh at one another’s banter, but it rang hollow. The only person who seemed to be genuinely enjoying themself was Minsc, and frankly you envied him right now, not a thought in that empty head of his.

Soon everyone silently retreated back to your room upstairs, all too content to sleep the day away. It had been a treacherously long night and an even longer morning. You found that you couldn’t trance properly without Astarion at your side, however. You fidgeted while trying to lie still, something you hadn’t struggled with since you were a youngling.

Eventually you gave up and returned to the bar of the Elfsong. The atmosphere was still sleepy, everyone quiet from the overwhelming events of the past few days. Alfira plucked on her lute while Lakrissa wiped down untouched tables.

You couldn’t tell how long you sat there until Shadowheart returned, looking significantly more refreshed. She perched on the arm of the cushy chair you had curled up in, tossing her silver braid over her shoulder.

“You look like you could use a drink, or several,” she laughed, and you nodded graciously in response. She patted your cheek affectionately before bounding over to Alan behind the bar. The others began trickling in, and you moved over to a table where you could celebrate properly. Gale made some witty quip and Halsin barked a laugh in response, and just like that the day’s tension eased into a weary but overall joyous energy.

But as night fell, you couldn’t help but glance at the doorway every thirty seconds, just to see if he returned. Jaheira noticed how twitchy you were, and she rested a warm hand on your knee.

“Don’t worry, little cub,” she said in that soothing voice of hers, “he’ll come in his own time.” You worried at your lower lip, doubt swelling in your heart. But just as soon as she finished speaking, Astarion burst through the door dramatically, looking only a little singed. He swaggered a bit, and his cheeks were tinged pink - he had just fed.

“Miss me, darling?” he sang and clapped his hands on your shoulders. You gazed up at him adoringly, your fingers lightly dancing across his knuckles. He collapsed in the seat next to you and without hesitation, he grabbed your legs and rested them in his lap. He almost looked giddy, a far cry from the pain and embarrassment plaguing his features that morning. He quickly fell into the conversation, joining Shadowheart in teasing Minsc. He absentmindedly stroked your calf with his thumb and you needed to take a sip from your drink to hide your growing smile.

***

The invitation from Withers surprised you. Not because you didn’t think he could track you down, he’s an all-powerful god, of course he could. Mostly it was because you didn’t realize just how sentimental he was.

You needed to spend the whole day of the party running errands in Baldur’s Gate, so you told Astarion that you would meet him at the Emerald Grove Environs in the evening. You wanted to pick up little trinkets for everyone, so you dashed about the city, checking each person off your list.

The smell of the camp hit you like a wave when you arrived. Memories came flooding back, of tending your wounds by the fire, or laughing at one of Karlach’s jokes while eating Gale’s famous wild boar stew.

You spotted Astarion immediately, hovering a few meters away from the food table. He looked dashing in his brown leather tunic with gold embroidery. You vaguely wondered if he had spent the afternoon carefully finishing the trim.

As soon as you were within reach of him, he pounced on you with a hug. His feet stumbled slightly as he swayed with you in his arms, his rich scent overtaking your senses. You felt so warm in his embrace despite his chilled skin. When he finally pulled away, he was beaming and your heart soared.

“I do feel a little bad keeping you all to myself. After all, I get to see you every night,” he laughed, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. “Go on, go mingle - enjoy your time with the others. Bless them with your presence.”

You gave his forearm a reassuring squeeze as his hand lingered on your cheek.

“I’ll be here when you’re ready,” he added in a low voice, eyes dreamy. “I’ll always be here, my love.”

#valentine's day #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 astarion #astarion fanfic #astarion fluff #bg3 fluff #astarion x reader #astarion x you

[sooinluvz]

 𝐉𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝐀 𝐓𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾

pairing : simon riley (ghost) x m!reader

summary : druken times call for druken decisions

tw : implied smut, alcohol consumption, cursing,

note : i thought of this while listening to friends by chase atlantic at midnight so enjoy! next part coming soon!

no good decisions should be made when your brain cells are on a temporary high and would come crashing down hard depending on how damaged your liver is by the time morning comes rolling through. you always thought that your superior officer, ghost, would be the logical one and make sure he kept a level head while the rest of 141 practically drown in the booze coming toward their table. so looking up at ghost leaning against the door frame of your small room was definitely a strange sight.

he was a heavy man to support, and definitely needed to lay off the late night exercises because it was very difficult with him being uneasy on his feet and taking small strides toward your bed to actually not have him falling on the floor. ghost was drunk—not as drunk as the others—but still over the legal limit. it was the first time you saw him not tense or angry.

something about ghost just appealed to you and your tipsy mind. he was handsome and he didn't even have to show his face in order to appeal to you, not many men had that kind of attraction going for them. that sweetened the idea of getting together with ghost, but it was mere delusion to think like that. especially if he wasn't into men, but it wouldn't be the first time you fell for a straight man.

sighing from your own ignorance, you drank some water to try and sober up a little bit while seated on your bed. it was quiet, you were pretty sure your superior was out cold on your bed but a low groan from behind flipped your thought upside down.

'"bloody hell.." his voice was deeper thanks to his drunken state and made a shiver run down your spine. that accent of his was sexy, it was raw and authentic, letting you know that ghost spent the majority of his life in the uk for his accent to be so thick. "rookie, why is my head spinning?"

you looked over your shoulder after minute and you stilled completely. that bloodshot gaze was staring straight into your eyes, definitely making you forget how to breathe for a second. you chewed your bottom lip nervously, the tingling inside your gut made you feel like the alcohol wasn't agreeing with your system but it was just your nerves going hyper. a growl somewhat animalistic pulled you out of your swell and made you release your bottom lip.

awkwardly, you turned your body to come face to face with him, it made you feel your adam's apple bob. "i'm not entirely sure what happened.. but sergeant mactavish asked me to take you back since i was already about to leave and you were sleeping on the table.. sir." you answered in a feeble manner, not used of being this close in proximity to ghost.

he seemed confused for a moment before rubbing his eyes in irritation. it was silent again, but it was better than mumbling like a child so as you picked at the plastic bottle, you were unaware of the hungry lingering in ghost's tired eyes. the older male grabbed the bottle out of your hands and drank the remainder of the liquid, wiping the excess that may have spilled from his mouth.

whatever was going through your hazy mind when you watched ghost certainly roared to life, blood rushing down south and erecting your dick. "crap.." you cursed under your breath, pants making your cock feel cramped within its tightness and it needed to breath. hopefully your superior wouldn't be able to see the obvious tent in your pants in the dim lighting. you swallowed, standing up with a slight weakness in your legs. "excuse me—woah!"

before you could take a step toward the bathroom a strong force pulled you backward making you stumble onto your bed, leaving you helplessly laying on your back. "it's been difficult.. just trying to get you out of my head. pisses me off, how you're so carefree while i.. struggle against my urges.." his voice was definitely your weakness, but now it seemed like you had a lot of weaknesses at the moment. your heart was in your throat, stopping any words from reaching your tongue.

"what do ya say, rookie? wanna let me off, this one time?"

#simon writes #ghost #simon riley #ghost cod #ghost x male reader

[greyias]

[ CUP ]: bringing both hands up to cup the receiver’s face, the sender draws them in closer to them in order to get a better look at their face.

Pairing: Gale x Tav Words: ~4700 Rating: T, despite any indications to the contrary Notes: I have no excuse for this, other than it made me laugh. I’m very sorry. Set late in Act 2, after the infamous spider meat scene. I should probably add a warning for the arachnophobic: SPIDERS

The walls of the tent seemed to loom around him. Normally a tight fit for Gale to stand up, now even more crowded as he finished his preparations for the evening. He couldn’t help but glare at the confines closing in on him, not exactly claustrophobic but also not a location he would normally choose to stage a grand, romantic gesture. He briefly contemplated the merits of conjuring the elaborate illusion of his tower back in Waterdeep again — but no, his concentration was already centered on a spell vital for his plans to try and make up for his outburst earlier in the day.

And even if it weren’t an issue, his Waterdeep illusion required more from him than he had after the day’s battles and puzzle solving within the depths of the Gauntlet of Shar. Which in itself was hardly the most romantic location to woo one’s paramour. Unless one happened to be a cleric of Shar, but even then, Gale doubted Shadowheart would find their current environs particularly stimulating in that way. And it wasn’t like he was trying to woo her.

And perhaps he wasn’t exactly trying to woo his beloved—just more… apologize? His normally boisterous paladin paramour had been unusually distant and quiet with him the entire afternoon and evening, and the timing between that and his less-than-accepting reaction to the reveal of her, erm, unusual proclivities could hardly be a coincidence. So, logic dictated that he make a romantic gesture to show that he accepted her, unexpected predilections and all.

His scowl deepened as he fussed with the stack of tomes that normally lay in a pile next to his bedroll, trying to make for the illusion of more space in the already crowded tent. This corner had seemed like the perfect place to get them out of the way, but every inch really was at a premium right now, wasn’t it? Hardly worthy of the grand, arduous gesture he was trying to pull off. If only he had some vestige of civilization, a romantic suite at an inn that wasn’t one sliver of concentration from disaster. Although he’d readily trade for even half the space of a thin-walled room at even the Last Light Inn at this point.

Although, considering one of the harpers had specifically warned them away from sleeping in any of the actual beds because of a lice infestation in the mattresses, that would probably also put a damper on the romantic atmosphere. Although really, after a century long of the inn suffering from a shadow curse, how were those vermin supposed to have survived? Barring the arrival on the head of an unsuspecting Elturian refugee, Harper, or Flaming Fist, it didn’t make a whole lot of sense. The buggers would need regular blood meals to survive any length of time, much less a century—unless they were undead shadow-cursed lice?

Hrm, best not take the chance. The living version of the buggers were bad enough, and toss in an undead, necromantic curse on top would just be an additional nightmare to deal with. Perhaps it was best to make due with the limits of his current environs rather than—

“Gale? Are you in here?”

Musings on the merits of undead lice were quickly derailed by the call.Wait, no—it was too soon for the guest of honor to arrive. “Uh—yes, just a moment!”

Before he could reach the entrance to intercept her, Ari peeled back the tent flap and stepped inside, a gentle expression of concern writ across her features. “You’ve been cooped up in here since dinner. You even missed Raphael, he says ‘hi’ by the way, and you wouldn’t believe what those scars on Astarion’s back—”

She froze, statement ending in a lurch as her gaze whipped over to the shadowed, far corner of the tent. Her eyes narrowed, then widened alarm before she flung herself fully into the space, maneuvering her unarmored body between Gale and the perceived threat. An appreciated, romantic gesture in normal times, but not at all the way he’d been picturing this going. As her bare fists balled up, arm reeling back for a punch he found himself grabbing her wrist in an attempt to keep the evening from derailing completely.

“Wait—no! It’s okay!”

“It’s not okay, there’s a giant spider in your tent!”

“That’s just Llarry—he’s a friend!”

Said giant spider, who had been settled back in the far corner, was sitting as comfortably as an enormous arachnid could in such a cramped space, legs crossed as if settling in for tea. One spindly, furry appendage waved as if in greeting. Although perhaps the gesture perhaps came across a little more intimidating to the uninitiated as Gale had to redouble his grip on Ari’s arm to keep her from punching in one of the creature’s eight eyes.

“See, see, friendly.”

Her protective scowl gave way to a deeply confused frown as she hesitantly lowered her fists. “I’m sorry—Llarry?”

“Well, technically his full name is Llarraggathssinssrigg, but really, he only uses that in more formal settings. He much prefers to go by Llarry.”

“You named the giant spider infesting your tent?”

Llarry reared back, front legs now waving irritably as a soft whisper of discontent escaped his mandibles. Ari’s balled fists started to raise back up at the action and Gale forcefully lowered them back down.

“No, no, of course not,” Gale corrected before they could get off on even more of the wrong foot… leg… tarsus… claw… whatever. The correct terminology wasn’t important at this particular juncture. “You know he doesn’t really appreciate the insinuation that he didn’t have a name before this, and also, it’s not very polite to refer to his presence as an infestation—”

“I can understand him perfectly fine, Gale!”

Oh. Right. The spell for speaking with animals had been one of the first things she cast each day in order to properly give Scratch and their resident owlbear cub morning scritches — here he had to settle for a potion to try and arrange tonight’s events. Although technically Llarry would have understood his instructions regardless, but considering the nature of the evening, it seemed only polite to have a proper back and forth about expectations, boundaries, safe words and whatnot.

Llarry made a series of elaborate clicking noises, front legs waving eagerly.

“Yes, of course,” Gale said at the reminder, “how boorish of me. Llarry, this vision of loveliness trying to valiantly punch you is Aravyn, although she does let her friends call her Ari.”

Llarry's multitude of eyes lit up as he trained his hopeful gaze on the half-elf.

“I have known you for all of sixty seconds. I’m not sure we’re to friends status yet.” As Llarry drooped dejectedly, some of Ari's defensiveness melted. “But I suppose since we’re already using nicknames, fine. You can use Ari, I guess.”

A trill of excitement escaped Llarry, far higher in pitch than expected from a beast of his size.

Seeing that indeed they were not about to be wrapped into a cocoon of webbing, Ari's defensive posture relaxed slightly, although she hadn't quite yet moved from her protective positioning shielding Gale. She tilted her head dubiously at the giant arachnid taking up a full third of the limited space. “So, let me see if I understand this correctly.”

“Of course.”

“You found a giant spider in your tent after dinner, and then made such good friends with him, you’re on a nickname basis with him.”

“Ah, not exactly that,” Gale said as he tried to step around her, although in the limited confines of the tent there wasn’t much room to maneuver without manhandling her. “You see, I brought Llarry here.”

“I’m sorry, what? 

“Third level conjuration spell, really handy in a fight if you need some extra allies—but you know. I figured why not be a little creative, spice things up as it were, in a safe, controlled environment.”

“…what?”

“You know…” Gale trailed off, hoping he didn’t have to spell it out.

“No, I really don’t.” Ari glanced between the two of them with an expression caught somewhere between confusion and suspicion. “Explain it to me like I’m five years old.”

“Oh, this is hardly the conversation for a five year old.”

“Gale!”

The hint of irritation in her invocation of his name had him fiddling nervously with his collar. “Well, you see, I realize that things back in the orthon’s lair got a little unpleasant. And maybe I wasn’t as supportive as I should have been in the moment. But I love you, and I wanted to show you that I fully support your… proclivities. No matter how… unconventional they may seem at first.”

“Unconventional proclivities? How does a spider—” Llarry reared back with an affronted hiss at the rude generalization instead of his name, front legs waving irritably. Ari glanced at the display with a cautious frown before amending, “I’m sorry, how does Llarry fit into this?”

“It’s okay.” Gale abandoned fussing with his collar to give her an awkward but hopefully supportive pat on the arm. “It’s a fixation, we can’t help what we find stimulating. What one person may find a strange predilection, another may discover an unexpected fount of amorous adventure.” He ignored her trying to mouth the phrase in befuddlement, and instead offered an encouraging smile. “So as a show of good faith and open-mindedness…”

With his free hand, Gale made an expansive gesture at Llarry, who waved a giant furred appendage in a way that was definitely overeager to get the evening started. Damn it, Llarry, don’t get too thirsty.

Horror slowly dawned on Ari’s face, color draining from her usually rosy, freckled cheeks as she turned from spider to man. “Gale.”

“Yes, dearest?”

“Is this about the spider meat?”

“And there’s zero judgement here. This is a safe space,” he was quick to reassure. “The point is, I brought Llarry here to show that I want to make this work, unexpected kinks and all.”

Gale wasn’t sure what reaction he’d been hoping for was, but her slowly sinking to the ground as if her legs could no longer hold her weight was not it. Instinctively he made to steady her, batting away the giant spider arm that was also trying to do the same thing. Perhaps she was just overwhelmed at the magnanimity of the gesture, the whole-hearted acceptance of—

“I... I need a moment,” she said weakly, swatting both of them away as she hid her face in her knees.

“I… yes, of course. All the time you need. Although, maybe less than an hour? There is a time limit on the conjuration spell, so if you’d like to get started—”

Llarry eagerly extended a leg in her direction, and it was immediately shoved back.

“I said a moment!” she insisted more forcefully.

Gale quickly made a “cut it out” motion at the spider, who folded back in on himself into his cramped corner with a huff. He knelt down next to her, hands hovering uselessly in the air as he tried to understand this reaction.

“I have a feeling I may have made a miscalculation.” The opening statement was spoken at a normal volume, but the next was dropped to a whisper that hopefully only she could hear, and he did his best to not let any dread creep into his tone. “Does it have to be dead? Llarry’s pretty open-minded, but I don’t think he’d be particularly amenable to that arrangement.”

Not to mention that would be beyond the bounds of this particular spell. But baby steps. Unfortunately, his whisper wasn’t quiet enough as Llarry let out a noise that was neither disturbed nor eager. Intrigued? Oh gods, best to not contemplate that.

“Gale,” Ari croaked.

“Yes, yes, I’m here. Unless you don’t want me to be? Do I… need to leave the tent for this? Is this a private affair? I’m not sure how I feel about that, but I—”

She whirled on the spot, uncomfortably twisting as she grabbed him by the collar of the shirt and pulled him close, eyes wide as her voice raised loud enough for the entire camp to hear. “Stop! I’m not sexually attracted to spiders!”

“What—I mean no, not attracted to them, of course. I didn’t think that!” Not entirely. “Attraction and arousal are two different things. For example, some people like me get hot under the collar when they see a beautiful, strong woman tear a bloody swath through cursed shadowed creatures, and when you lick… rotting… spider… meat… you—”

“It was charmed!” Her grip on his collar shifted to his shoulders as she shook him fiercely. “The spider meat was charmed!”

Elocution left him. “What? But you—”

“It was laced with succubus spittle, Gale!” She fixed him with a wide-eyed, mortified gaze. “I wasn’t… I don’t get turned on by licking spider meat.” As Llarry proffered a tentative limb, she released one hand to shove it away. “Or any part of a spider!”

“Oh.” Gale blinked. “Oh. Why in the nine hells would anyone dope spider meat? With an aphrodisiac?”

“There’s no good answers there, Gale! None!”

“Oh gods, you don’t think Yurgir was—not with the displacer beast?”

“I have been unable to think about anything else for the entire day!”

“Okay, not to lose the conversational thread, but I want to be one hundred and ten percent sure on this point. Your titillated reaction was in no way genuine, and you do not have any desire to indulge in any arachnid-related fetish?”

“I do not.” It came out a defeated whisper as she buried her face into shoulder to hide her burning cheeks. 

Llarry slumped and emitted a dejected trill, his evening clearly ruined.

“Well, that’s a relief.”

“A relief?” She raised her head back up from where she was trying to hide from her mortification. “I thought you said you accepted me as I am—even the weird parts!”

“Yes, but that’s not a weird part of you is it?” He shook his head, then replayed back the words that he’d just spoken. “Wait—that came out wrong.”

“So you don’t accept my weirdness?”

“No, no, that’s not what I meant!” Gale held up his hands defensively. “I love your weirdness, your unexpected nature—I just am a little relieved I don’t need to reserve a third level spell slot to summon a fey spirit in the form of a giant spider for you to salivate over if we want to get intimate!”

“What the fuck is going on in that tent?” Astarion’s loud voice drifted their way.

“Dark Lady preserve us, don’t ask questions you don’t want to know the answer to!” Shadowheart chimed in.

Okay, that was unfortunate. Another issue to deal with at another time. 

“You—you didn’t use your sound dampening charm you created?” Ari whispered fiercely. “When you thought we were going to have a wild night of spider licking?”

“Look, Llarry requires a dedicated amount of concentration to keep on this plane of existence—”

“Oh, well if Llarry requires your concentration—”

The spider in question made an elaborate series of gestures with three of his appendages, clearly indicating that this was not a part of the relationship he had agreed to be party to.

“Please, Llarry,” Gale begged first to spider, then turned his attention to his girlfriend, “I’m trying here.”

“Trying what?” An edge of equal desperation tinged her voice. “Why, why, why why—” she caught herself, took a breath, then exhaled before finishing the question, “why did you feel the need to bring a giant spider into… this?”

“I already told you—I thought I hurt your feelings.”

“You did hurt my feelings—because you yelled at me!”

“And I was only yelling out of surprise,” he tried, oh he tried to stop himself from finishing the rest of that thought, but Gale of Waterdeep was nothing if not thorough in the worst of ways, “because you licked a dead spider!”

“I only licked it because it smelled weird and magical and off!”

“Oh yes, a great justification for supping a little essence d’arachnid — not to mention a sure fire way to pick up a food-borne illness.”

“Hey! I needed to investigate!”

“With your tongue? Did you see me putting ancient relics in my mouth?”

“Yes! I gave you several to stabilize your condition!”

“I—I didn’t eat them, I just consumed them, there’s a difference!”

“And that difference is?”

“Well, one involves a dead spider and your tongue—”

“You know for someone who’s claiming this was a safe space, I’m hearing a lot of judgement in your voice.”

“I’m not judging,” Gale insisted. “I’m just…”

Ari quirked a single brow, arms crossed as she awaited his explanation for why this was about his concern, not judgement. And this entire thing was a ridiculous misunderstanding as it was. Llarry let out a long series of very sincere, but chiding clicks.

“You’re not helping,” Gale muttered darkly.

“You have to admit, Llarry has a point.”

“I really don’t have to admit that.” He shot her a look. “And okay, let’s say I concede that inadvisable curiosity had you put your tongue on it the first time. But if you knew it was charmed, why in Faerun did you taste it again?”

Her cheeks flushed a deep, deep red again. “Because you yelled at me!”

“I feel like we covered that point already.” Gale frowned. “Have we reached a circle in this ridiculous argument? Or is it a spiral at this point?”

Llarry made a low inquiring trill, front legs gesturing in a fluid motion toward the tent flaps, as this was definitely not the fun evening he had been promised.

“Not now, Llarry,” both Ari and Gale  sighed in unison.

Gale scrubbed a hand across his eyes, a desperation clawing up and squeezing at his chest as this conversation, if it could even be called that at this point, seemed to spiral completely out of control. Ah, control, what a beautiful, deranged illusion to grasp for.

Words. He needed words. “It was never my intention to upset you.” That was a good start. “When you grew distant, avoiding my gaze… can you really blame me for wanting to fix it?”

She stared at him, long and hard in a way that told him without any words, that yes. Maybe a little blame was being directed his way. He couldn’t help but wilt some at that.

“I can see you’re mad,” he started.

“I’m not mad,” she insisted. 

“But you’re not happy either.” This really wasn’t going well at all. “Look, I may not have the cleanest track record when it comes to correcting mistakes in relationships. Possibly overcorrecting just a tad.”

“Just ‘a tad’? You don’t think this was a little extreme?” She asked softly, the trace of hurt in the question like a twist of the knife. “Instead of… talking to me first?”

“When you put it that way… I suppose going to such elaborate lengths without consulting you first was perhaps a little ill-considered.” The wounded look still lingered in her eyes, and he tried to swallow past that gnawing guilt trying to rise back up in him. “You just seemed upset, and you know how they say actions speak louder than words, and I know I use a lot of words.”

“You do,” she said quietly. “You know, the first time was out of curiosity.”

“I do feel like we’ve firmly established that fact.”

She shot him a look, but the heat in it was quelled by something a little more raw. “The second time wasn’t just because you yelled or the meat was charmed. It was what you said.”

“I don’t follow.”

“You suggested that we’d run our course.”

“I did no such thing,” he insisted, with a heat. “I would never—”

“You literally told me that, and I quote, ‘the time might just have come when you and I should split ways’.” After the verbatim recitation she dropped her gaze, looking anywhere but at him.

“That was a joke,” Gale insisted hotly.

“It certainly didn’t sound like one at the time.”

Again, she wouldn’t quite look at him, just like most of the afternoon that had started this whole sordid affair. Llarry’s eight eyes glanced between Ari, to Gale, and with a world’s worth of recrimination behind the action. Stupid summoned spider—why had he not let the damned thing leave the tent when they had a chance?

Spider voyeur be damned, he moved in, gently cupping her face and tilting it up so he could look her in the eye. He half-expected her to pull away, but she allowed the motion. The shuttered expression on her face cranked that vice around his chest one notch tighter, even as his thumb brushed lightly across her jaw line.

“I told you once that nothing would turn my heart from you,” his voice was naught but a whisper, but with no room between them, it might as well have echoed from the walls, “and that hasn’t changed.”

She swallowed and after a moment managed to summon the semblance of a smile. “Not even my unfortunate habit of sampling things I shouldn’t?”

“Not even that,” he breathed.

She let out a half breath, half-laugh in response, and this time when she closed her eyes it seemed to be in relief. It was a small win, but he’d take it, and the vice loosened enough so he could breathe again.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, leaning into him.

“Whatever for?”

“Overreacting?” she tried. “I probably should have said something too. I just… felt stupid about the whole thing. And you were just so angry when you were yelling at me to stop licking things.”

“I was concerned,” he insisted, and yes, maybe a little irked that he’d been ignored in the moment. “Maybe we can just chalk up this entire sordid affair to misplaced affections and intentions? I mean, I brought Llarry into our lives to prove my love, didn’t I?”

The third wheel cleverly disguised as a giant spider rolled all eight of his eyes.

“Don’t be like that,” he said, “it was a genuine misunderstanding. Anyone could make this mistake?”

“Anyone?” Ari asked.

“Okay, maybe just me,” he amended, “but I think it’s safe to say that you’re off the hook for the evening, my eight-legged friend.”

A woeful, keening sound left the spider, his large, bulbous head dipping low in clear dejection.

“It’s you not you, Llarry,” Gale insisted, “it’s me.”

The mandibles clicked in rapid staccato, intercut with distressed squeaking.

“Yes, yes, but given the new information we’ve all uncovered in this impromptu group therapy session, the parameters of our previous negotiations really don’t apply here.”

Another click, what counted as a huff.

“Come now, let me just release you from your service. You’ve got less than an hour left of existence, my friend, you should make the most of it.”

Llarry turned his octagonal gaze in Ari’s direction. 

“No.”

Now, spiders couldn’t exactly snort, as they lacked the nostrils to do so. However every single spiracle across his large hairy body exhaled their frustration at the same time, and with a decisive shuffle of all eight legs pounding against the rug-lined floor of the tent, Llarry waddled his way past the embracing couple and shoved his way out the tent’s front flap and into the camp beyond.

“Wait, Llarry, don’t be like that—”

Almost immediately, cries of alarm went up from the rest of the party going about their evening, Scratch let out a loud growl as the owlbear cub screeched a warning. The clang of metal against stone indicated that someone had taken a swipe at the vorekink-friendly spider — and missed.

“Oh no,” Ari murmured, starting to move towards the tent flap to try and save their weird relationship counselor, “Llarry!”

“He’s up in the rafters already!” That seemed to be Lae’zel, presumably the one that had tried to cut the poor dejected spider in two. “Damn it elf, can’t you aim your longbow better?”

“It’s not my fault he’s faster than a Quickling on a sugar high!” Astarion snapped back.

“Okay, am I going crazy,” Karlach asked loudly, “or was that spider crying?”

“Leave that poor spider alone,” Wyll, ever the voice of reason, tried to bring peace and order back into their lives. Bless him. He tried.

“Yes. It’s clearly had a rough evening,” Halsin rumbled.

“I guess he’s fine?” Ari winced, turning back to Gale.

“He always did have a penchant for drama,” Gale sighed.

“You’ve known him for less than an hour.”

“But it seems like a lifetime, doesn’t it?”

“Gods yes.” She buried her face into his shoulder again. “Do you think we have any chance of convincing everyone they didn’t hear any of this?”

“I’m afraid I’m tapped out of that particular magic for this evening.”

“Is there no justice in the world?”

“Modifying our friends memory? Probably not justice—I would say it’s morally dubious at best.”

Ari tried to sink her head further into the retreat of Gale’s night shirt. Unfortunately it was not nearly as voluminous as the folds of the robes he wore in the daytime, so there was not much solace to be found there. The muffled groan was the best she could muster. At that point, the tent flap shifted again and Karlach looked in, an eyebrow raised as she took in the sight before her.

“Soooo,” she managed to draw out the two-letter word out into multiple syllables, “you’re both alive I can see. Well, I mean we already kind of knew you were alive. Because of all the yelling.”

“Remarkable observation as always, Karlach,” Gale’s reply was dry, one hand busy smoothing the top of his mortified girlfriend’s head. “Can we help you?”

“Ah, it’s fine. It’s fine.”

“Is it?”

“Look, the gang—” At Gale’s quirked eyebrow, she amended, “—okay, mostly Astarion because he’s nosey as fuck, sent me in to ask what the hells is going on in here? I told him if the spider tent’s a-rocking, don’t come a-knocking, but he insisted…”

“Just a little… mutual misunderstanding is all.”

“Uh huh. You know, if you want to keep it spicy, there’s a lot easier ways than the five million fucked up scenarios I imagined listening to all that.”

Another pitiful moan left Ari, but it was mostly muffled by Gale’s shoulder. He gave her head a consoling pet.

“She okay?”

“No,” Ari’s words were muted by her insistence of slowly smothering herself in her boyfriend’s shoulder, “just let ceremorphosis take me now. I don’t think even my soul wants to remember any of this.”

“Oh, come on, it’s not that bad,” Karlach insisted.

“Astarion will never shut up about this,” is what Gale was pretty sure she said, but it was mostly just indistinct mumblings at this point.

“Hey, first wise crack from Fangs, and I’ll cave his skull in. Then we can have Withers bring him back. No harm, no foul.”

“Except for Astarion’s skull,” Gale pointed out.

“You’d do that for me?” Ari mumbled.

“For you, soldier? Anything.“ She gave Gale a lurid wink. “Well, I’m just going to leave you two lovebirds to go ahead and smooth out any remaining ‘misunderstandings’ you might have. Maybe just put up that fancy sound dampening charm before you really get going, ‘ey?”

With that, she ducked back out, a chuckle in her wake. Finally alone, Ari emerged from her refuge in Gale’s shoulder, a red crease marking where she’d pressed her face particularly hard against his clavicle. “You’re really smart, right? What’s the chance of a rogue portal appearing and swallowing us up before we have to face the others tomorrow?”

“Alas, a statistical improbability.”

“I was afraid you’d say that.”

Gale tucked back an errant honey-blonde strand, attempting to smooth her now disheveled hair. “I think we might have to resign ourselves to being the talk of the camp, at least until the next insanity is thrown our way.”

She dramatically hid her face back in his shoulder, as if he’d pronounced the world was ending. “I am never leaving this tent again.”

#bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic #gale x tav #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #bg3 tav #oc: aravyn #cw: spiders #look #look i can explain #(actually no i can’t carry on) #crackfic #not beta’d sowwy #i am yeeting this masterpiece out to the winds #and going to bed #greyfic

[kristeristerin]

hello, i have been loving your writings with taylor swift songs! Can you do daylight for my love cassian!! ❤️❤️

AN- I was so excited to get a couple of Cassian requests! (I have a few planned on my own too, so if you're a Cassian girly like me keep an eye out!) This started out a bit more angsty that I'd expected, but I think I'm ok with how it turned out!

The lyrics that really spoke to me where:

I wounded the good and I trusted the wicked

and

Threw out our cloaks and our daggers because it's morning now

Thank you for the prompt!

As always asks are open for prompts!

Song: Daylight

Pairing: Reader X Cassian

Content Warning: Angst with a happy ending

Words: 623

******

You felt your whole body tense as the members of Rhysand’s inner circle entered the room and sat at the table across from you and Eris. Logically, you knew you were going to see Cassian. He was the High Lord’s general, after all. What you weren’t ready for was the utter coldness in your mate’s eyes as they slid over you, nor the low snarl that escaped his lips when Eris smirked at him.

Once the meeting had begun everyone seemed to be on their best behavior. The necessary information had been exchanged and bargains struck. You were ready to get back to your cottage and pretend your heart didn’t still beat for the male across the room. So, when Eris declared you’d both take Rhysand’s offer to enjoy the festivities you could have killed him.

—-----------

It is two hours and several glasses of wine later when Cassian finally approaches you. The delighted humming of your mating bond alerts you to his presence long before he speaks.

“You’re still with Eris,” his voice is cold, devoid of emotion.

You turn from the revelers and face him, careful to keep your mask in place. “I’ve never been WITH Eris, Cassian. Our goals just happen to align, but I’m not having this conversation with you. Not here, not ever.”

Something dangerous sparks in his eyes and he grips your hand. You don’t fight as he guides you through the crowd and hallways before pulling you into a dark bed chamber. When the door is shut behind you, he rounds on you.

“You owe me this conversation,” he lets out a breath and runs a hand through his hair. “You owe me this conversation because all those years ago I came home to an empty townhouse and a note. You didn’t even stick around to have a proper conversation with me. So, if you’re not fucking Eris, what’s so bad that you had to run away from me? That you had to stay away from me?”

Your lip trembles as you look into his wild eyes. When you close your own all you can see are the memories of waking next to him on lazy mornings. The way the sunlight danced on his face as he grumbled that it was too early. You thought about muscled arms wrapped tight around you and sweet kisses that lasted forever, but somehow never long enough. When you reopened your eyes they were filled with tears.

“I was no good for you, Cas,” you whispered. “Despite everything you’d been through you were so damn good. I couldn’t be that, and I was so scared of bringing you down I did the only thing I could think of and I ran. I’ve done terrible things. Things I will never be able to make up for. I’m working with Eris to try to atone for some of it.”

His stare is unreadable for a moment, but then he steps forward and envelopes you in a crushing hug. You tense, before tentatively returning the embrace. When he begins rubbing your back you’re unable to stop the tears.

“We all have a past,” he spoke softly. “I’ve done plenty of things that I am not proud of. I understand having to do what you think is right, but when it’s done will you come home? To me?”

You sniffle and pull back enough to look into his eyes. “You still want me to come back?”

He smiled warmly at you, “There isn’t a single thing you could do that would make me not want you to come home, love. Take your time, do what you need to do, but promise me, you’ll come home.”

You swallow hard but nod at him. “I’ll come home, Cas.”

#acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #cassian x reader #cassian acotar #cassian x you #acotar fic

[elaaronpresleysgirl]

A helping hand- ft shy Elvis

The house was quiet aside from the sound of tossing and turning coming from the bedroom next to yours. It was 3am so everyone else aside from you and your fidgety pal in the next room had fallen sound asleep. You were exhausted from a busy day and were starting to become irritated at the noise which didn't seem to be stopping anytime soon.

You covered your hands with your ears but could still hear the rustling of bedding. Deciding you had had enough you leapt out of bed and stormed into the next room, flinging the door wide open.

"PRESLEY! DO YOU REALISE WHAT TIME IT IS?" Elvis jumped out of his skin with a gasp. "Oh hey honey, sorry I just can't get to damn sleep" 

The discomfort in his voice also showed on his face, his lip was pouty and his eyes had desperation in them. You stepped closer to his bed. "What the hell's the matter with you?"

The man blushed and turned his body to the wall, away from you. "Nothing, just too damn hot"

"Well take the covers off yourself then, dummy" Elvis groaned in protest and flopped onto his back.

"Or don't. I ain't bothered. I'm off back to bed. Just keep quiet!" You turned towards the door and began to stomp out of the room until you heard a whimper.

"P-P-Please come back. I-I Could use your help with this thing" Elvis had removed his blankets down to his feet and was staring at his pure white pajama bottoms. They had black stripes down either side and his initials E.P sewn into them in gold. Arousal hit you as you saw how they had tented with his erect penis straining against them.

You stared in wide-eyed silence at the discovery, too stunned to speak. Elvis and you had been close friends ever since middle school, ever since he defended you against a particularly mean girl in your class. Even though he was two years younger than you he had a confidence with his temper that impressed you.

You soon started spending most days after school with him, inventing games or reading to each other. Now at the ages of twenty two and twenty four you still spent just as much time together, relationships had come and gone for you both but your friendship never failed.

Elvis would teasingly ask for a kiss the odd time but you never took him seriously and he never went beyond that or ever really tried anything. But you couldn't deny how beautiful he was. Slicked back but soft hair, baby blue eyes, full pouty lips and cheekbones that could cut glass. He was pretty alright, not that you'd ever tell him.

When you were all alone with your thoughts is when you imagined how it would feel to have his lips pressed against yours, hands roaming your body...images you pushed to the back of your mind. Now here he was in all his glory, revealing himself to you.

You broke your silence after what seemed like an eternity. "After all this time? Why can't you just sort yourself out?" You tried to act like you weren't eager but your voice shook.

Elvis went redder than you'd ever seen anyone go. "I don't like to ma-masturbate myself. S-somehow feels dirty" 

You really didn't see his logic but his words were making you weaker by the second.

"S-S-So if you helped me out ya could get back to sleep like ya wanted" 

You let out a sigh. "Bribery? Now that's not very nice." Elvis didn't laugh, just slumped his cheek to his shoulder in despair. 

Your head was spinning at the situation and you couldn't do anything but go with it. You took a deep breath and after closing his bedroom door sauntered to sit on Elvis' bed near his legs, your legs over the side and feet on the floor.

You gave off false confidence, smiling down at him but he wouldn't face you. "You've just asked me to toss you off but ya can't even look at me?" You gave a light laugh.

Elvis reluctantly looked your way, then down to his erection. When his eyes landed on it he swiftly moved the covers back over himself.

"I can't get to ya if you're all covered up now can I?" His shyness was giving you confidence. You whipped the blankets away from him and threw them to the floor.

He groaned at the exposure but bucked his hips slightly in need. You looked at the tent in his pants with lusty eyes and placed your hand gently on his thigh.

"Little Elvis isn't so little after all is he?" You cooed teasingly. Little Elvis, his name for himself. You had overheard him before bantering with his male friends, referring to his penis as little Elvis.

"Th-th-thank you" He stammered, his gaze fixing on your petite hand which was now caressing his upper leg. The innocent way he was acting now proved that the brags to his friends you'd heard were all fictitious.

Actually, Elvis' demeaner was turning you on. The fact he'd put himself completely at your mercy got you hot.

"I want you to stroke him for me darling" Your request sent shock across his face and a whimper escaped his perfect lips.

"I'll give you a little help" You tugged at the waistline of his pants and he lifted his rear up allowing you to pull them all the way down.

"Please. I'd much r-r-rather you do it" His stammer came out in his protest. You giggled at his words. "I will sort you out, don't worry. I just need to see you stroke him for me, just a little"

"Okay, if you'd r-really like to see it" He let his head fall back, squeezed his eyes shut and wrapped a strong hand around his cock but not moving it any. 

"Open your eyes baby. Wanna see those pretty eyes" Opening his eyes and bringing his head forward to look at your smiling face, your words apparently prompted him to start stroking himself.

Elvis took his erection more firmly in his right hand and gave it a small tug. "Turns me on when you play with yourself. Do it again"

He moaned, rolling his balls in his hand before tugging himself a few more times at a slow pace.

"Need your hand. Please" You could feel the wetness drip into your panties as you looked from Elvis' tanned hand on his cock to his blissed out face. You still couldn't comprehend how big his cock was. It must have been at least ten inches. Thoughts started to cross your mind of how it would feel from the inside but you pushed them out of your head, for now at least and you placed your hand around it, brushing the tip with your thumb.

Elvis gasped at the contact and bucked himself up. "Did you like that, sweetheart? You're gonna like this even more" 

You left him with confusion plastered on his face as you removed your hand from him and left the room. You returned to the room you were staying in and headed for the bedside table draw.

You rummaged around amongst old papers and keys until you found what you were looking for-a bright pink vibrator. You sometimes brought it with you when you stayed with Elvis to use while he was asleep and none the wiser.

Luckily it was an extra quiet one. You grabbed it and rushed back to Elvis' bedroom. He looked extra frustrated but his eyes nearly popped out of their sockets when he saw the vibrator. You grinned and waved it in the air.

"Umm...what you gonna do with that?" He asked innocently, eyes fixated on it. You returned to your previous position on the bed. "You'll see!" You gave Elvis a cheeky wink and pressed the power on button on the vibrator.

Placing a your free hand on his thigh you brought the head of the vibrator to the head of Elvis' cock. The jolt of pleasure created by your actions caused Elvis to grip the bedsheet for dear life, letting out a delicious "Aaah" 

You leaned across the bed to bring your face to his "Kiss me, Elvis" You thought he'd hesitate but he didn't, grabbing your face and bringing his soft lips to yours instantly. 

"God damn mama" He moaned into your lips as you moved the instrument of pleasure up and down his shaft, letting it briefly touch his balls- which was too much for him. He squirmed and rushed to bat your hand away. 

"Too much for you baby?" You put on a sickly sweet voice. "Hell naw, god I was enjoying it. Just not on the balls. Too sensitive!" He gave a chuckle and kissed you again on the lips. 

A question suddenly came to you "Elvis, are you a virgin?" The question took him back to his  embarrassed state, he brought his head to the side and stared at the wall.

"Sorry honey. Didn't mean to upset you" Elvis didn't look away from the wall as he responded "You haven't. "Ju-just never spoke about it with anyone before"

He looked like he was about to cry. "I talk big in front of the boys but I've never found anyone I wanted to do it with" He finally turned to look at you.

"No one but you" Elvis must have seen the shock on your face  "Honey you can't be suprised, surely?

"All those times I tried to make a pass at you..." He trailed off and looked down at his chest. You put a kind hand on his shoulder. "Honey I thought you were joking, I never for a moment thought you meant it"

He took your face in his hands and looked right into your eyes "Oh I meant it" He kissed you tenderly,hands in your hair as the kiss became more passionate.

You suddenly noticed the ache between your legs,reaching down to touch yourself through your panties. Elvis saw what you were doing and brought two fingers to your clit, his hunger showing in his fast pace.

He swiftly pulled your nightdress over your head and flung it across the room before you wrapped your hand around his throbbing cock and tugged at it frantically.

"Fuck. Wait a minute. I just need to make love to you"

"Okay baby. I want it too" Elvis brought his head to your breasts and took one in his hand, causing a moan to escape your mouth by placing his lips around your already erect nipple, sucking and exploring it with his tongue.

He let his hand go down between your legs, rubbing your clit while you nibbled at his neck.

Your moans grew louder through every touch "Elvis, I need you inside me"

He groaned his eagerness "Gonna have to guide me a bit" You gave him a gentle kiss on the lips.

"I'll take care of you.." You gave his cock a small kiss. "And him" 

Elvis pulled you in for another kiss before you lightly pushed him to lay down on his back and sat straddling him. You lovingly stroked his cock and brought it to your pussy lips, rubbing it across the entrance and against your clit.

"Feel how wet I am for you?" Elvis didn't give a verbal response but moaned, his cock twitching against you.

"You ready honey?" You looked to him for confirmation as you hovered your pussy over the tip of his erection.

"So ready" His face was flushed and full of anticipation.

You slowly let the dripping tip enter you,hands on Elvis' chest as you gradually let him fully inside you. You couldn't quite believe how much he filled you up as you began riding him steadily.

Elvis' face as he felt you from the inside was the hottest thing you'd ever seen, his pretty eyelashes fluttering,his jaw clenched and his mouth parted.

He let out the most manly groan you'd ever heard, grabbing your ass to aid you up and down on him. You could tell by the sounds he was making that he wouldn't last long.

"Gotta tell me when you're ready to cum,okay?" You picked up the pace notably more, not caring who heard your loud moans as Elvis grabbed at your breasts, the ecstacy on his face becoming more and more with each bounce.

"Real close honey" Elvis could barely get the words out.

"I'm right behind you" You rubbed circles around your clit as you continued riding him, cuming with a moan of his name as you clung to his chest.

You quickly pulled out and turned onto all fours beside him, ass in the air. "You can cum on my ass if you want to baby" You gave it a slap and grinned, preparing yourself for him.

Elvis kneeled behind you, lining his cock up with your ass "God you've got the most beautiful ass I've ever seen! Perf- AHHH" As he tugged himself to completion his sentence broke as he cried out, moans that never seemed to end to match the stream of hot white mess he was gifting you with.

When he finally settled down he pulled you to lay on your back with him, both unbothered by the sticky mess. He reached down on the floor where the vibrator had fallen and powered it on.

"Lemme see if I can make you cum twice..or maybe six times" He was eager as ever. 

You weren't going to complain you thought as you spread your legs for Elvis Presley.

#elvis presley #elvis presely smut #elvis x reader #elvisaaronpresley

[spookyghostbunny]

34, kinger/queenie? (Pre-abstraction ofc)

Boo! Surprise fanfic!

"Kinger dear, what are you doing?" The female chest piece asked. Her husband had been missing all afternoon, and she found him in one of the more secluded areas of the tent. He seemed to be making something with pillows.

"I'm building us a castle! Our impenetrable fortress, if you will!" Kinger informs proudly, putting the finishing touches on the fort. He takes a few steps back to admire his handy work. He nods in approval when he sees everything looks exactly like the blueprint. This was probably the best pillow fort he has ever made.

Queenie giggles, coming over to stand next to Kinger. "You've done a splendid job, darling." She then kisses the other chest piece on the cheek, causing him to stutter.

"I- Well- You haven't seen the inside yet!" The king quickly bows to hide his blush, holding out a hand for her to take. "Your palace awaits, my queen."

Queenie gasps, placing a hand over her digital heart. "My, what a true gentleman!" She pretends to swoon at his romantic gestures, throwing her hand from her heart over her eyes.

Kinger rolled his eyes fondly. His wife's dramatics were one of the things he loved about her. He straightens up to his full height, staring at her mischievously. She didn't notice because of the hand over her eyes. Perfect. If she wanted to be dramatic then he'll show her dramatic. "Come here, you!" He shouts, pulling her into a hug and holding her securely against him.

Falling for the obvious trap, Queenie melts into her husband's hug. She always liked his hugs. They were surprisingly comfortable even though they were both made out of digital wood. The female chest piece's thoughts were caught off by fingers wigging against her sides. "Kihihinger!" She squeals, realizing too late that she was trapped.

"Are my impeccable engineering skills really that laughable? I thought you would like it! Yet here you are, laughing at me!" Kinger shook his head in mock disappointment as he playfully scolded her. "I thought I knew you better!"

This made the queen laugh harder. "Ihihi'm hehehehe sohohorry!" She lightly pushes against her husband's chest, making no real attempts at escaping.

"I don't know..." Kinger muses, moving his hands up to where her ribs would be. "You sure don't look sorry!"

Queenie begins to wiggle as her laughter increases in pitch. "Reheheally ihihi- KIHIHIHIHINGER!!! NAHAHAT TH-THAHAHAT!" She was full-on cackling now at the new sensations.

Kinger's mischievous look grew. He may not have a mouth, but thanks to Digital Circus Logic™ he is still able to gently nibble the queen's neck. "What was that, dearest?~" He purred, making her shake her head to try and rid herself of the tickly vibrations.

"YOHOHOU ARE SO EHEHEHEVIL! AHAHAHA!" Queenie may have been laughing her digital heart out, but she still didn't try to get away. They both knew they were having fun. It was times like these that made being stuck in the digital realm tolerable. Just the two of them goofing around and enjoying each other's company.

"That's just a roundabout way of saying 'I like it." Kinger stops when he knows she has enough. He picks up his beloved wife and finally takes her inside the fort. "That should teach you to laugh at me."

"You love me," Queenie states, resting her head on Kinger's fluffy robe.

"That I do, my love"

#roman writes things #the amazing digital circus tickles #lee!queenie #ler!kinger #tadc tickles #wrote this instead of sleeping #out of spite #had to get one done #messed up two fics and had to restart #this one won since it wasn't as long #eepy #per-abstraction #before kinger sent crazy crazy

[audioletter]

Day Twenty-One: Swimming (Dehya/Alhaitham) (NSFT)

"You didn't have to hire me, you know." Dehya stood with her hands on her hips and watched Alhaitham as he walked around the edge of the water, book and pen in hand. His handsome face was creased with thought, and Dehya almost yelled her statement again to make sure he'd heard through his academic fugue state.

"Your job is an Eremite. Eremites work for money. I needed your services, so I paid you."

"In advance," she scoffs, "I didn't know you were the trusting type."

"No, you think I'm the stingy type, no doubt," his head still stuck in the book, scratching notes in his impossible handwriting, the sand kicking up around his boots.

She can't fault his logic - he did give off stingy vibes despite his ostentatious clothing and prestigious job, but Dehya's idea of what a Scribe at the Akademiya earned could be completely off the mark.

He'd cornered her out of the blue coming out of Dunyarzad's house one Wednesday - "can you escort me to Samudra Coast?" before offering a significant amount of Mora for the trip she took almost monthly as a reprieve from Sumeru City's hustle and bustle.

To be completely honest, she'd almost said no; a month before they'd fallen into bed together after he'd fought with Kaveh for the twenty-seventh time that week, and while he didn't act like anything was out of the norm, she couldn't help but feel slightly awkward - despite it being one of the best nights she'd had in a long time.

Still, he'd persuaded her in his deadpan way, and now she was following him along the Samudra Coast, kicking the sand and sweltering in the heat as he continued his study. Study of what she had no idea, but he seemed to know what he was doing, taking in the ocean, rock formations and even the giant tortoise who barely looked in their direction.

Then - "I'm done."

"Pardon?"

He closed his notebook and sheathed his pen. "I'm done, we can go now."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa - this was a three day trip, buddy, and you came here for an hour?"

Alhaitham examined her like she was a subject to be studied, then shrugged. "We can camp here for the night, then go back in the morning. I assume as a proper guide you have enough provisions."

The sun beat down on them, Dehya feeling uncomfortably hot all of a sudden. She was used to the desert, sure, but the idea of sharing a tent with him was something she was not, and she mirrored his shrug with one of her own. "Of course, but we'd have to share a tent."

And that's all it took - a wicked look crossed his face, one she knew all too well from a month ago. "Ah, so the Eremite brought only one tent? I didn't realise because we'd stopped at your friends' base camps and Aaru Village on the way here."

"I thought I'd stay on the Samudra Coast and send you back alone," she spits back at him, suddenly angry as he moved in on her, slowly removing his cape and placing it on the ground in a frankly bizarre move. "What are you doing? Are you too hot? There's water -" and then his shirt was off, leaving his skin-tight pants and not much else to the imagination. Dehya swallowed hard as she took in Alhaitham's near perfect chest as he continued encroaching delightfully into her space with each step.

"I thought I'd take a swim," he muttered, very close to her now, brushing his lips against hers in a calculated move. "Did you want to join me?"

She watched as he backed away - immediately missing his body - and took his boots off. There was something remotely fascinating about Althaitham stripping, let alone wanting to swim, and she crosses her arms. "I'm up for it if you are."

"Do you need help with your top, Dehya?" Her name rolled off his tongue like honey, and she felt even warmer. "Your pants?"

"Archons," she muttered, as he pulled off his pants leaving him naked and semi-erect. She made quick work of her own clothes, dropping them in a messy pile next to his immaculate one and taking his hand as he lead her to the water.

"Hold on to me," he whispered into her ear, his erection pressed against her as they got closer. The water, the feeling of his body, the sun above - Dehya opened her mouth to his in a frenzied kiss as he slid his dick into her, her legs around his waist as they used a sand bank to hold them above water and in the right position. The friction, the pressure - Archons, this was the best commission she'd taken in a long time, arching her back and letting her hair get wet as his strokes inside her became quicker and harder.

"Alhaitham," she groaned, happy the beach was empty - their debauchery could get loud she'd learnt a month ago, and from the intense way he was looking at her without saying a word, she knew she couldn't last long. The water was divine, his dick even better; it could have been hours or minutes the ecstasy was so high, like he was designed to hit her in all the right places.

He must be getting tired supporting me, she thought through the euphoria, the blind sensations; but he continued like it was nothing with force and might until she exploded around him, her screams of his name probably echoing as far back to Caravan Ribat.

"Good girl," he smiled, grunting a little in a way that made her tingle, increasing the speed - and, as she came down from her own high, she felt through the haze he was about to let go himself. "I'm gonna -"

"Go," she muttered into his lips, their kissing becoming feverish and wet as he came, shaking and holding onto her as the water lapped around them.

"Well done, Scribe," Dehya smiled into his mouth, tracing his lower lip with her tongue.

Alhaitham pushed off the sand bank and began treading water, letting her go, panting. "How about we set up the tent, dry off and try that again?"

She smiled, as sweetly as she could.

"You're the boss, Boss."

#audiolettertober fic #genshin impact #dehyatham #dehya #alhaitham #antis dni #how did this end up being 1000 words of smut mate #let them be the bi icons they are i say let them! and no real foreplay because their whole time together is foreplay lbr #also we're on the last column can you imagine??? i'm keeping up even tho this will be posted when i'm away on vacay!

[loki-lover84]

Chapter 2 Season 3 Episode 3 Part II

Whilst Butcher’s in the bathroom I watch as Hughie and MM step outside leaving me alone with Mallory.

“Do I know you?” Her sharp tone takes me a little by surprise before I conclude that’s just how everyone involved with the boys seems to be.

“Not personally as far as I’m aware. I’m Queen Maeve’s PA, could be where you’ve seen me.” I answer hoping that’s enough for her.

“No. It’s not that. I’m certain I know you from somewhere else.” She insists cautiously approaching me as I watch her eyes observe every part of me.

Well this isn’t uncomfortable at all.

“I just have one of those faces I guess.” I say silently begging for everyone to come back into the room.

“So why are you here? I mean you knowingly work for a supe and you’re employed by Vought what issues could you have? Not feeling like you’re being paid enough?” Mallory asks, each question more condescending than the next.

“Maeve and I have been the ones providing those guys with any and all the information they and/ or formerly the CIA asked for. We want to see Homelander and the rest of those pricks suffer and Maeve, well she just wants to be left alone she wants to have a normal life.” I answer almost getting in her face, not quite but almost.

“Fine, but why are you suddenly out in the field instead of researching like you have been all this time.” She’s never satisfied is she?

“I wanted to keep an eye on things especially since some of the leads hit a dead end because of their recklessness.”

To my relief one by one the boys come back in the room MM first shortly followed by a now guilty looking Hughie and finally Butcher.

“Sorry about that.” Butcher say striding back into the room.

“What the hell did you drink last night?” Hughie asked not really expecting a response.

Which he doesn’t receive, as Butcher ignores him before resuming his earlier seat whilst I move to lean against a wall creating the distance Butcher probably would’ve asked for if I hadn’t.

“Right, where were we?” Butcher says making himself comfortably as Mallory hunches over in the chair opposite resuming her witnessed events.

“To the surprise of no one that moron Swatto went for another joy flight, giving away our position. Even better, the Sandinistas brought Russian Special Forces with them. Though that didn’t matter much to the supes.” Mallory begins once again.

She begins telling us how Crimson Countess killed some of her men backing up her previous statement of how supes weren’t cut out to be in battle due to their lack of training. To me it seemed more like to their lack of observation and logic skills, not all supes obviously but Payback man were most of them thick as pig shit. Mallory continues saying how at least Noir was killing the right guys, before witnessing Stan Edgar being escorted from the line of fire with at least two armed soldiers ensuring his safety, not like he really had any purpose being on site in the first place but it was one less distraction. She accounts witnessing Swatto, the guy who caused the carnage, retreating taking of before being blown up mid-air, he was always a fucking coward he got what was coming to him if you ask me. Her next observation was witnessing my Ben fighting against the Russians and Sandinistas, at least he was also being useful.

My pride was shortly live however when Mallory recalls Gunpowder, a close friend of mine, someone I had helped train going gun crazy literally shooting anything and everything not caring if it moved or not as she then says how he blew up an ammunitions tent the force of which threw her against a wall knocking her unconscious. She takes a deep breath.

“When I was able to get back on my feet the gun fire had ended. The first thing I saw was Noir a crack down the side of his head, half the flesh of his face had been burnt, he was struggling to reach for his helmet.”

I could feel tears stinging my eyes, I’d got on with Noir in the little time I actually spent with him. I know Ben was always tough on him and they didn’t see eye to eye for the most part but, I wouldn’t wish that trauma on anyone.

“I saw the rest of Payback in tears, each of them bleeding but trying to comfort one another until Crimson Countess ran up to me and she said ‘Oh God. They killed Soldier Boy, the Russians. They had some kind of gun or weapon or something. They’ve taken his body.’” Mallory takes a moment recalling that day.

That, that was exactly what I needed to confirm my suspicions that Soldier Boy was still out there, if they took his body clearly he wasn’t killed. I try to fight the smile beaming on my face and be respectful but, I’m only here to get my husband back. Considering that I just tilted my head down and toward the wall so no one saw my face, it was only polite after all.

“I lost one hundred and sixteen men that day. And Vought got full immunity. That was the day I decided to make them pay.” Mallory says mournfully before turning to face us.

“Well ain’t that a wonderful story. Tell me, Grace, where did the Ivans take this…Supe gun?” Butcher asks also only focussing on his main purpose.

“The trail went cold behind the iron curtain.” Butcher looks at her sceptically, “It’s the truth. My reach only goes so far.” Mallory says sincerely.

“You knew what Soldier Boy did to my family,” MM begins. “but you didn’t think I needed to know the truth?”

“It wasn’t that simple.” Butcher stands up as Mallory send MM a sympathetic look. “Can you give us the room?” She adds as we all leave knowing she wants to talk with Butcher.

I stay stood outside of the room to listen in whilst the guys step out to rejoin Kimiko and Ryan.

“You came to me after Becca disappeared and promised me Homelander’s head. And all this time, you knew there was something that could do the job, and you never said a fucking word.” I could feel the resentment through the wooden door as Butcher seethed at Mallory.

“Whatever this weapon is, it probably won’t work on Homelander.” Mallory attempts to reason.

“And what if it does?”

“Even worse. Because it wouldn’t end with him. You’d go after another supe, then another, then all of them.”

I must admit she had a good point given Butcher’s track record he’d kill all of my kind. Yes technically we were born human but society deems us a superior race and some supes do too, personally I just used to go mad with power. I was never a fan of the whole superior race concept, far too Nazi like.

“If you’d have told me about this sooner, Homelander might already be dead. Ryan wouldn’t be running from one safe house to the next, wondering when his nutter dad’s gonna drop out of the sky. And Becca…Becca might still be alive.” There’s a passion in his voice that I didn’t think he was capable of, there’s so many layers to this guy an entire psychology conference would have a field day. “And for that…I’ll never fucking forgive you.”

I hear heavy footsteps approach the door before Mallory shouts.

“This was never about Ryan or Becca. It was always selfish. Always and only for you. For the hate inside you want to let loose on the world. I thought maybe you changed, but I was wrong. You are your father, always have been.”

With that I leave there’s a pit in my stomach as I think back to something Ben had told me. He’d say no matter what he did his father was never proud of him. He wanted to have kids to prove he was a better man than his father but in he never got the chance to prove that he got told by other’s he was just like his father when his ruthless side came out. I know how much that can break someone down especially when their father is an asshole to their family, friends or just anyone that happens to pass them by. Before I know it I’m on the decking stood above Kimiko and Ryan.

“What were you doing in there?” MM asks his tone more curious than aggressive.

“Had to have a piss.” I say just as Butcher storms out Mallory not too far behind.

“What happened?” Hughie asked glancing toward his leader.

“We’re off.” Butcher responds not sparing anyone a single glance, not even Ryan.

“Butcher, wait up. Where are you going?” The kid asks running over to his father figure.

“The city.”

“When will I see you again?” Ryan questions innocently.

“You won’t. Ain’t safe for ya.” He responds coldly still not looking down at the boy.

I begin to follow in suit to the car before I witness Ryan shove Butcher back to get him to stop.

“Wait!” He exclaims, his lost sapphire eyes looking up at Butcher expectantly. “What are you talking about?”

“I got to go.”

Ryan’s frustration instantly build as he firmly grips Butcher’s forearm, there’s so much potential in this kid, I hope it doesn’t get wasted.

“Ryan, let go.” Butcher says trying to keep calm.

“No. You said you’d always watch out for me. You promised!” Ryan insists forcefully.

“Ryan, let go.” Butcher warns.

“I won’t let you!” I can’t help but admire the bravery of this kid despite his powers, he’s genuinely not afraid to fight for what he wants.

“Well, maybe I don’t want to look at you. After what you done to my Becca. Did you ever think about that?”

I watch as sorrow and regret flood the boy’s features before gradually shifting to rage, his once vibrant sapphire eyes shifting to a ruby glow that reminds me of my baby. I’m fully aware he’s Homelander’s kid but, since the only time I’ve seen red eyes were from lasers firing out, never solely for the reason that someone was just upset. Heck the only time Homelander’s glow red is when the lasers come out as far as I’m aware. I wipe away a welling tear as I watch Kimiko take a defensive stance in front of MM and Hughie, before Ryan rips a necklace off throwing it on the ground beside him. Announcing a ‘I hate you’ before rushing passed me inside. Every instinct screams at me to follow him, make sure he’s okay, tell him Butcher doesn’t mean it. But I resist the urge as I watch everyone flock to the car.

The ride back is silent, awkwardly so. It feels like it takes ten times as long as it initially did, the rage seeping off Butcher whilst he clenches the steering wheel. I spend my time gazing out the window daydreaming about how our reunion would be. I’m one step closer after at least five years since I started working at Vought to getting my husband back. Finding out what actually happened to him back then.

Once we’re back at the Flatiron building Hughie shows me to a quiet room.

“I figured you may want a minute to yourself, if gets a bit tense around here.” He smiles kindly at me as I step into the room.

It was mostly empty but there was a sofa and a chair by the window hidden under some layers of dust but I was grateful all the same.

“Thanks Hughie. Was something bothering you earlier?” I ask thinking back to his shift in mood when Mallory began her second part of the story.

“No…it’s fine. I just- I just told Annie she needs to stay as co-captain, be our inside man so to speak for a little while longer. Which obviously endangers her life and- holy crap I’m a terrible boyfriend-”

“She’ll be okay, I’ve seen her in action. I’ve seen her everyday at Vought deal with Homelander’s bullshit besides, it’s not forever. She’ll manage.” I say reassuringly before Hughie smiles and walks off.

“What the fuck am I doing giving a shit about these people?” I exhale deeply, plopping myself on the sofa and closing my eyes.

 “Where is he?” I growl gripping Shadowcrawler’s neck feeling my nail begin to sink through the first layer of skin.

“I don’t know! Edgar wanted him, that’s all I know. Threatened my folks if I didn’t do it.” He begs pathetically gasping for air between words as his blood oozes down from his eye sockets before dripping onto my wrist.

“Not good enough. Why does Edgar want my baby?” My hand clenches tighter as I force water down his throat.

I dissipate the water slightly relaxing my grip so he could answer.

“New generation of supes. He believes a naturally born supe would be more powerful.”

“Take some other supes kid!” I snap once again forcing more water down his throat only removing it when he nearly drowned.

Shadowcrawler coughs before pathetically gasping for air. If he still had his eyes I’m almost certain he’d have tears streaming down his face.

“No other supe has had a kid with another supe, he wants to study your kid.” He just looks pathetic. “I’m telling you the truth Amphitrite!”

“I know you are.” I whisper almost soothingly. “That doesn’t change anything, you know exactly what I’m doing. Can’t risk Vought getting the heads up this soon, sorry you’re just a loose end at this point.”

Water floods his lungs as I watch him slowly drown his body trashing as he tries to fight his rapidly approaching death. I know I can’t go straight for Edgar, I’ll be signing my own death warrant with all the supes he has under his control. Doesn’t mean I can’t track down anyone else associated with my son’s abduction and my husband’s death. Within the next year I’d killed at least sixty men that had been present for Nicaragua, over a two hundred employees with various positions at Vought each had been ratted out by a fellow co-worker and friend that thought it would save themselves and about fifteen to twenty supes.

That saying ‘Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned’ has never been more appropriate to the way I’d managed half the shit I’d done in that short year. I can’t believe it took three years before Edgar decided it was time to bury the existence of Amphitrite, at least six hundred technically innocent people were killed by me. I was in a dark place though my son stolen with there being no chance of me getting him back, my husband allegedly dead, I had nothing left to lose.

 Maybe caring about this squad that marginally despises me is my way of atoning? Nah I’m not completely emotionally constipated, I don’t need to justify jack shit even to myself.

“Y/n, we’ve got a plan in place to go Russia. You don’t have to be a part of any of it just-”

“No, I’ll help however I can. Thanks for keeping me in the loop.” I smile up at him watching him leave.

  I’m coming Ben, it’s been over forty years but I finally have a shot at finding you.

#soldier boy x reader #Soldier Boy #The Boys #Grace Mallory #Butcher #Flashback #violence #Hughie #Starlight #Queen Maeve #Homelander #Kimiko #MM #Frenchie #Payback #supe reader #death #reader #Season 3 rewrite #married #Stan Edgar #vengeance #slow romance

[fierypen37]

Victory is in Your Veins: Chapter 15

moodboard by @libradoodle1​

Chapter 15

 Day Three: Daenerys

 Astapor was naught but a smoldering heap. Daenerys petted Drogon’s frilled head, caught somewhere between terror and elation. She had deliberately thrown stones at a hornet’s nest, and would inevitably be stung. The slave trade encompassed not only Slaver’s Bay, but the wider continent. Drogon sensed her disquiet, and nuzzled her arm. All was forgiven regarding the chain, it seemed. Her eye fell to the map on the table, and the painted stone bearing her House’s sigil. She traced the frilled coastline to the next logical step. Yunkai. She must crush these hornets beneath her heel. And the yellow city was the next nest to topple.

Ser Jorah paced in the narrow confines of her tent, his plate armor spattered with blood. He noisily chewed on a loin of pork. Aggo took his ease as well, fresh from battlefield. Ser Barristan, Rakharo, and Kovarro were bringing the Unsullied and Dothraki cohorts to heel. All told, the coup was a stunning victory with not a single Unsullied or Dothraki life lost. The count of slave masters slain and slaves freed was still being tallied, but the number was in the thousands. Astapor’s red bricks were painted with a fresh coat this day. Missandei flitted like a golden butterfly in her white linen, offering fingerbowls of water and freshening watered wine goblets.

 “In a single stroke, you’ve made thrice the enemies you had yesterday, khaleesi,” Ser Jorah grumbled. Drogon flew to his post and Daenerys turned to face him square.

“Well put, ser,” she said, not bothering to quench the choler in her tone. No slouch at reading her tones, Ser Jorah swallowed hard.

“I only wish you had trusted us with your plans,” he said, gulping wine from his cup. Sweat streamed down his face. The evening heat was punishing. Even the light weave of her sandsilk tunic clung to her.

“Will you take refreshment, Your Grace?” Missandei asked, unobtrusively offering a goblet. A relic of a master’s, it was fashioned of bronze with a scorpion-like harpy carved around the rim.

“Yes, watered wine, please. A horn cup will do,” Daenerys said, with a gentle squeeze on her forearm. I’ll not drink from the harpy’s bosom.

“I would have included you had I known myself what I was to do. It was not until the whip was in my hand that the path became clear to me,” she said mildly. Daenerys was feeling the effect of such a tumultuous day followed by a poor night of sleep—weariness made her marrow ache; her wits were slow.

“And what of Westeros, khaleesi? You waylay your plans to see strangers unchained?”

Daenerys clenched her jaw so hard her teeth hurt. Though she had forgiven him for his past, the words still stung. Slaver. The whisper rose from somewhere deep within.

“Yes, Ser Jorah,” she said with soft-spoken vehemence. Freedom was a gods-given right of any man who breathed. The world she would forge must be made from the chains of the old.

“Children should not be born in bondage. Women should not suffer rape at the hands of their masters. Men must not be brutalized for entertainment.” To her it was simple. To her, the answer was plain as the sun in the sky. Slavery must end. I will not be swayed in this.

Ser Jorah loomed, stinking of old blood and rancid sweat. What had he said to her? There’s a beast in every man, and it stirs any time you put a sword in his hand. Those deep-set blue eyes were earnest, though. And as always, it snagged her heart.

“And if you die on this errand, gods forbid? The last Targaryen of Valyria, slain to save trained monkeys and dung shovelers?” he said, taking her hand between both his warm scarred palms. Daenerys held his gaze, groping for the words to make him understand. She chose practicality.

“What you have me do? The river cannot flow backwards. I’ve already sacked a slave city. There is no path but forward.”

“There’s always a way. Make peace with them. Ride west. Shake the dust of the continent from your feet.” Daenerys stepped back, dropping her hand.

“Eight thousand Unsullied is not enough to retake Westeros.” Why was she indulging him? She could not turn her back on these people. A headache began to pound behind her eyes. A long, trying day after a long sleepless night had worn down her patience. Ser Jorah pressed on.

“There are a thousand sellsword companies in Pentos or Myr. We have the gold to hire them.”

Daenerys took a long draught from her cup. The cool liquid slid down her throat, soothing. Though his advice was sound, Daenerys would not be swayed. Onward. Onward to freedom and home.

“Even if I considered abandoning this course, it would not last. It was you who taught me to guard my back. I cannot leave harpies to nip at our heels. We must take Yunkai, and Meereen after it. This is my decision, ser. Will you follow me?”

Appealing to his loyalty always had the intended effect, even if sometimes begrudgingly. Ser Jorah bowed before her. His blue eyes watched her as if she hung the moon.

“I will follow you to the ends of the earth,” he vowed. Despite her irritation, his devotion touched her—also as always. She combed a sweaty tendril of his thinning grey-blond hair from his eyes.

“Seek your bed, Ser Jorah. We march at dawn,” she said. The scowl seemed permanently etched into Ser Jorah’s face, but he rose and excused himself.

As the tent flap swayed shut behind him, Aggo grunted.

“Jorah the Andal buzzes like a fly. Battle and blood are good,” Aggo grumbled in Dothraki, sinew crunching in his teeth. Grease shone on his mustache and beard. Daenerys found a dry chuckle.

“He means well.”

A shadow moved. Aggo lurched to his feet and loosed his whip in one smooth motion.

“Your Grace?” the sound of his deep, accented voice made gooseflesh stipple her skin. Jon Snow. Her breath caught. Jon moved through the tent’s partition to stand before her.

“Peace, Aggo,” Daenerys said in Dothraki with a staying gesture. He had tasted battle today. Whole, uninjured save for a scabbed cut on his shoulder, she noted with relief, but dried blood coated both arms to the elbow. Crusts adorned his chest in ragged ripples and splashes. She could smell the faint metallic tang of dried blood in the air. It shouldn’t have thrilled her, but the sight of it displayed his strength, his savagery. He wore a pair of over-large green sandsilk trousers and leather sandals that laced to the knee.

In his hands was a sword. Even sheathed, she knew it to be a peerless weapon, a white wolf at its pommel. Isn’t that what the slave masters had called him? White Wolf? Jon glanced at Missandei and fugitive warmth filled his eyes as he murmured a greeting. Missandei returned it with the ghost of a smile. Daenerys’ heart beat in a hard, swift rhythm. He had returned, but perhaps not for her. He and Missandei had a shared history.

Jon Snow’s dark gaze was steady, unwavering. She waited for him to break the silence.

“I brought a gift,” Jon said at last. He ducked out of the tent and hauled in a bulging sack. Upending it, a cascade of leather and bronze fell in a heap. Whips and collars. Master’s whips, some bearing the bloodstains of their former owners. Collars in leather, brass, tin, gold. He’d gathered them as a man would gather flowers for a sweetheart.

“In Volantis, the slaves say we must pave your way with blood and the whips of masters. It turns out they were right,” Jon said. Daenerys glanced at Missandei.

“The slaves are . . . expecting me? How--”

“This one has heard of slaves whispering about dragons, and the kind woman who is their mother. A woman who frees those her Dothraki husband takes, who battles warlocks. It is not so unbelievable then, to assume she would free slaves,” Missandei said with an admiring smile. Daenerys swallowed hard. Men and women in bondage already pinned their hopes to her. Hope for the future. It was a heavy burden she sought to shoulder.

“I hope I deserve it.”

“You do.” Said so simply, in that gruff voice, with those ink-dark eyes looking at her like that. Steady, focused, but with something else lingering in his gaze, something she couldn’t name. Daenerys braided her fingers together over her belly, a protective gesture. Jon Snow was unbothered by the lapse in conversation, seemingly content to look at her. Unnerved, Daenerys cast a glance at the equally inscrutable Aggo and Missandei and cleared her throat.

“I am pleased you made it through the day unscathed. Battle is messy business.”

Snow shrugged.

“The masters made me into a killer. So I kill,” he said laconically. Daenerys chewed the inside of her lower lip. There the cadence of a lament in the words, and her heart was moved.

“You are free now. I hope it is some small recompense,” she said softly. A muscle jerked in his face.

“More than you know,” he whispered. Daenerys’ heartbeat fluttered. Curse her wayward heart, so eager to pin its hopes on Jon Snow! He had returned, hadn’t he? He could be the one. Gruff voice, pale skin, scarred . . . oh gods, how could she endure it if he left again?

Jon Snow bent the knee before her, the sword angled across his knee.

“Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, I swear you my sword and my life. I will shield your back, and give my life for yours if need be.”

Daenerys clenched her jaw to keep it from hanging open. Whatever she had expected him to say, it hadn’t been that.

  Day Three: Jon

 In the dying twilight, lit by dancing oil lamps, her fair hair gleamed. Those eyes were more vivid than the sky outside. Not a muscle moved in her face—Jon supposed it was a queen’s task to hide her true feelings. It had been far too easy to slip into her camp, into her own tent. Jon resolved to change that, if she accepted him or not. He would browbeat and threaten as many as it took until she was safe. Listening outside the tent, he heard that worm Mormont wheedle and cajole. His queen would not be moved. Fierce.

She deserved a loyal man to serve her. A vow more binding than slavery: Queensguard. It rested on his tongue to pledge himself to be one of her Seven to keep her safe. History had great knights with peerless lineages don the white armor, but Daenerys already had exiles and criminals on her Queensguard, so perhaps a bastard former slave would also be acceptable. And yet . . . and yet his freedom was so fresh. The choice to serve her as he wished to was too great a temptation to resist.

“You seek to renounce your freedom so quickly?” she asked sharply, echoing his thoughts. Cold sweat slicked his skin. Would she refuse him? Jon knew he could not turn away.

“I am free because of you. Valar dohaeris,” he said. The crease between her brows relaxed a little.

“‘All men must serve.’”

“I will serve you,” he said, holding her gaze. However she wished. On the warpath, in the council chamber, in her bed. I must keep those thoughts in check. She deserves someone who serves out of love. Gods, but a man could drown in those eyes. Beautiful yes, but sharp with intelligence, warm with kindness. Ah, yes. Her face was remote and unreadable, but her glorious eyes betrayed her. Jon read perplexity and piqued interest in her them. What forestalled her? The gentle touch of her hand on his wrist startled him.

“Is this truly what you want?” she asked gently.

“Yes.” With all my heart.

“Then I accept your sword. Your life remains your own.” Jon nodded. I will never leave you. His heart soared. Hers.

“You may rise,” she said with a dazzling smile. Jon smoothly stood. His heart all but glowed. Hers. Always.

 Day Six

 The Dothraki had the finest horses, and by their khaleesi’s word, Jon was to have his pick. The whipcord thin bloodrider, Rakharo, led him down their picket lines, saying nothing. Those black eyes watched him, weighing him by some unseen measure. The suspicious looks did not pierce his armor. After years under Morrgys’ thumb, the captain’s honest qualm did not trouble him.

It had been years since he chose his horse from among Winterfell’s herds, and Jon knew enough of Dothraki to know his choice of horse would be dissected. The mares wouldn’t do, nor the golden colt, or the sorrel filly. Jon considered the spotted brown, but it was ewe-necked. The blue roan had uneven wear on his rear hooves. He was sound, but wouldn’t remain so for long. The bay and the dapple were well-made. The charcoal grey of the dapple said he was young. Jon murmured to him, stroking his thick neck. The long white-tipped ears were pricked in interest, nosing Jon’s hand in search of treats. Clear brown eyes, even teeth. A strong barrel chest, hard, clean legs.

“This one,” Jon said, swatting a horsefly from the dapple’s neck. Rakharo grunted and shrugged. Jon took it as a good sign.

“See Jorah the Andal for tack. Westerosi do not ride well in Dothraki saddles,” he said with a thin grin. Jon nodded, clicking his tongue to the dapple and leading it from the picket by a handful of wiry black mane. Rakharo muttered something in Dothraki—Jon had gleaned enough from Morbo to know it wasn’t insulting—and strode off to gather his own black. The march to Yunkai began today.

“What do you think?” Jon murmured to the dapple, “ready for a ride today?”

Jon squinted into the sunlight as he waded through the scrum of a dissembling camp. In the distance, Dothraki dismantled Daenerys’ magnificent three-posted tent. Ser Barristan was at her side, along with the other two bloodriders. She had bade him to gather himself. ‘Join me at the head of the column.’

For a former slave with no belongings save Longclaw, he now owned a horse leather tent, a folding cot with sheepskin and linen coverings, a stool, a lamp, and two books. Daenerys had lent him one of songs and stories of Essos, another on Valyria. They were hers, dog-eared and much-loved, and thus more precious than gold. There had not been time to fit him with armor, so he wore a leather gambeson, horsehair trousers, boots, and a shirt of mail. Perhaps one of Ser Jorah’s cast-offs, it was made for someone far wider ‘round the middle and several inches taller. Still, the music of the links chiming was comforting. All his new belongings were stowed neatly on a pack pony. Longclaw he carried with him—he was missing a swordbelt.

For the nonce, he must answer to Ser Jorah, but the older man had served Daenerys the longest. The gleam of sunlight on his pauldrons caught Jon’s eye where he stood tacking his own red stallion—a gift from Daenerys’ former Dothraki husband.

“Ser Jorah, I have my horse. Is there a spare saddle for me?” he said. Cool, direct. The older knight grunted, directing him with a jerk of his chin. There was one saddle left on the ropetree. It had seen better days, but Jon began tacking his dapple in silence.

“Where did you get that?” Ser Jorah growled.

Unsure if he meant the pack or the horse, Jon did not answer. He murmured to his dapple as he guided the crownpiece over his long ears. Something shifted and Jon moved without thinking, ducking left and swiveling around, his eating knife drawn and poised at Ser Jorah’s chin. Ser Jorah had meant to grab at him, and Jon had reacted, swift as lightning.

“Apologies,” Jon said, sheathing the knife, “what did you say?” There was wariness as well as loathing in Ser Jorah’s seamed face now.

“Where did you get the sword?” he snarled. Jon allowed a knife-thin smile. I’m surprised it took him this long to notice. It is a credit Daenerys had kept herself alive with such unobservant guards. Jon hefted Longclaw.

“Before I was captured by the slavers, I was a man of the Night’s Watch. Lord Commander Mormont gifted me Longclaw.” Several emotions flitted across Ser Jorah’s face. Surprise, confusion, grief. Jon almost pitied him.

“Why?”

“I saved his life,” Jon said. A better man would have offered the exiled knight the sword his family had carried for five hundred years, but the bonds of former slave and former slaver lingered. Jon tightened the girth strap and swung astride his dapple. He hadn’t been astride a horse since his disastrous escape attempt near Eastwatch. Jon settled in the saddle, relishing it. The dapple’s ears were pricked forward, prancing in place. Jon was tempted to dig his heels in and gallop to the far horizon. Instead, he drew rein, waiting politely for Ser Jorah to gain his seat. Once astride his stallion, Ser Jorah heeled to a canter to join Daenerys at the head of the column. Jon loosed rein to follow when Ser Jorah forestalled him.

“Join the rear guard, Snow. It is a long road to Yunkai.”

#jonerys fanfiction #daenerys targaryen #jon snow #fp37fic #victory is in your veins #Gladiator!Jon #Queen!Dany

[ebitchwriting]

Dragged Into The Blood

Story Stummary: Never staying in one place for long, moving nearly every year, Lea Anderson was used to impermanence, chaos, and having to leave everything behind at the drop of a hat. Lea never expected that she would be kidnapped and wake up in a rusted, decrepit prison cell because of a madman's delusional belief in eugenics and cleansing the Earth of imperfection. By herself, with only the clothing on her back, she will have to rely on luck and logic to escape before she's killed or worse.

Chapter Summary: Finding Claire and Moira was a miracle in and of itself in this desolate abandoned building, Lea knows that. She should be grateful, she is grateful. But Lea's tenuous grasp on her inhuman abilities is already struggling far more than she wishes. Memories thought to be long gone struggling to push itself to the surface. Not that it matter, none of it matters. All that matters is that she escapes this hellhole before she becomes a worse monster than she already is.

Chapter Warnings: disassociation, blood, gore, death, unhealthy coping mechanisms

Well, it certainly has been a hot minute. Sorry for the late update; I swear I didn't abandon this story! Basically, the MA Apprenticeship program I'm in right now has been chaotic as fuck due to poor planning on the supervisor's end, I had to move back in with my dad, and I'm also finally making myself sit down and work on my manuscript for my epic fantasy novel(which is not Dragged Into The Blood adapted as an original work). I also noticed that despite my using Grammarly, several chapters here have several typos and grammatical errors that are driving me up the wall, so I've been going back through the chapters and fixing them(On Ao3 side). Luckily it seems only Ch1,2, 6, 7, 8, and 9 seem to suffer from that. Regardless, hope you enjoy this chapter!

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16.

Chapter 14: The Escape... Again

Lea's gaze glazed over from behind the sash, and all sound became indistinguishable. Just muffled, echoing nonsense, overlapping each other into static. Her mind felt foggy and empty, all except for the confirmation that despite her best efforts, she was yet again an experiment in someone's cruel game. Hands twitching, a slithering feeling growing more intense with every passing second. Breaths, short and rapid. 

'… Nothing I did mattered…'  The screeching of the rusted door opening fell on vacant ears as she stared at nothing, swaying in place. 

Only when a hand tentatively brushed against her shoulder did she snap out of it, flinching back to reality and away from the foreign touch. Lea reflexively brought her hands up, ready for a fight, but stopped herself from grabbing the unknown hand and breaking it as she finally recognized the burgundy leather of Claire's jacket. Lea stole a glance up and saw the evident concern etched on her face. Lea shook her head, stepping back from the hand that started to inch back to her. 

"I'm fine…" Lea grumbled under her breath, stepping back from Claire, shoulders still taut and tense. Bracing herself to be berated for acting like a child, told to grow up, and pushed endlessly to explain herself until she was desperate for an escape and ready to do whatever it took to be alone. To her surprise, despite Claire's worry, she didn't do any of that. She just nodded, gave her a reassuring but thin smile, and walked toward the door. From beneath the cloth wrapping, Lea's eyes widened, then narrowed, and Lea fought to hold in a growling hiss. 

'… Why am I still surprised that not everyone acts like Dad…'  Shaking her head, Lea strode forward, falling in line next to Moira, and followed Claire, decidedly not making eye contact and instead keeping her eyes trained on the decrepit building. 

The metallic scent that Lea could practically taste and the bright, fresh red bloodstains immediately caught her attention. A pit fell in her stomach as her eyes followed how the trail led toward the only other path. Briefly closing her eyes, Lea strained her ears. Wet, rasping gasps, undoubtedly of someone struggling to hold in their sobs, reached her first. At the same time, Lea could pick up another's harsh, wet, and pained gasping, but it didn't sound like someone on the verge of death. By the choking sounds, it sounded more like they were struggling to calm down. The almost feral sound made the little hair that remained on the back of her neck stand straight. After concentrating on the sounds, Lea hissed under her breath as she realized that with the layout of the abandoned building, it was too difficult to tell where exactly they were or which was closer. All she could tell was that they were near. 

Lea's gut twists further with dread after Clarie pushes the next door open, revealing a narrow hallway only briefly illuminated by the flickering light hanging by its wire. Oddly enough, though, there weren't any streaks of blood here. Unfortunately, however, as the three walked past the lone gurney, they found their path was blocked off by a fallen storage shelf. 

"I think we can squeeze under this," Claire observed, walking up to the fallen shelf and gripping one side. "Give me a hand, Moira," Claire called out, and Lea awkwardly shifted in place, almost reaching a hand out but, in an instant, letting it fall. With a grunt, Claire lifted the shelf. "Go!" Claire called out as clearly and quietly as she could, her voice strained. Moira wasted no time in hurrying under, with Lea following past her. 

As soon as they passed, Moira went to grab the edge of the shelf, keeping it upright. For a second time, Lea awkwardly shifted in place, wanting to reach out and do the heaving lifting herself, but a strong jolt of fear stopped her. 

'… I don't know how she'll react… I don't want to be a monster…'  Looking around, Lea saw yet another shelf blocked off the hallway. Without another thought or waiting for Claire, Lea approached it and started to push it forward. 

"Lea, hold on," Lea heard Claire whisper-shout from behind her, quickly followed by the loud slamming sound of the shelf being let go. Lea winced at the volume, then lifted a hand to wave off Claire's concern. 

"You two did the work last time. Let me­-" Before Lea could finish what she was saying, a loud, ear-bleeding shriek pierced the ambient silence of the walkway. In an instant, Lea was on her back, using the shelf to shield herself from the person clambering and swiping at her. She could feel her heart thudding at the sight of what used to be a man in front of her. The flesh on his face was messily sewn back together, and the eyelids were sewn entirely shut. Massive iron nails protruded through the arms, which flailed around, trying to claw at her. 

Then, just as suddenly, a knife slashes at the ruined arm. Once. Twice. Thrice. Then, the fourth time seems to finally register. The attacker practically leaped off the shelf, running back down around the corner. Lea stared at where it was, eyes glazed over and breathing short and rapid. She didn't protest as Claire gripped the edges of the shelf and took over, moving it forward. 

"Oh my God, what the fuck?" Moira's words barely registered to her, muffled and sounding almost like they were a mile away as something started to sharply ring louder and louder. Lea's mind felt like it was turning to cotton, and her limbs seemed nailed to the ground. It wasn't until something nudged her that Lea was brought back to the present. A quick glance up, and she's met with the equally terrified and concerned gaze of Moira, still clutching the flashlight to her chest. With a shake of the head, Lea forces her heavy limbs to grab purchase and push herself back onto her feet. 

"That was close," Claire's voice cuts through, out of breath yet surprisingly calm as she continues to push, the scrapping of the metal against the ground echoing in the eerie silence. The horrid noise finally stopped as the shelf met with the edge of a desk, opening a new path. "Come on, stay behind me." Claire called out, motioning them to follow. Neither Lea nor Moira complained about the order and fell in line. 

Just as soon as they started to get close to the already wide-open creaking door, an ear-piercing scream broke the newfound silence, quickly followed by the deranged wails from the attacker. Claire wasted no time breaking out into a sprint, chasing after them. Moira and Lea shared a look before running after her, practically slipping as they bounded corners and ducked under fallen furniture. 

"Holy shit, it's going to fucking kill her!" Moira shouted, mostly to herself, panting between each word as they followed Claire in her pursuit. The poor woman's terrified screams and the disturbing grunting of the butchered man still bounced off the walls. 

In seemingly no time, Claire and Moira came to a screeching halt. Lea, however, realized far too late the barrier ahead and ran face-first into the steel bars. To her surprise, the contraption held up instead of crumpling or denting in. 

'… Way to go… Just tell everyone in this fucking hellhole where we are… Fuckin' at least Chris taught me how not to run through walls…'  Lea stepped back, a hand reaching up to hide her quickly reddening face and to block off whatever looks she was sure Claire and Moira were giving her. 

Thankfully, without a word, the other two simply went up to the steel bars and grabbed the bottom. Within a moment, they were holding the security contraption up. Lea wasted no time going under and to the other side, and as soon as the other two joined her, they let go of the steel curtain. The contraption slams down, deafening the halls.

Shuffling steps. Wet and ragged gasps. The coppery stench of fresh blood. Then, out of the shadows and into the dim light came that poor woman, drenched in her own blood, with a tight grip on her torso as she limped forward. Lea watched in a dazed shock as she collapsed in Claire's arms, all strength leaving her limbs.

"The animal eyes! Oh God…" After a few more wet, rasping breaths, the woman went utterly still and silent. Dead. Lea stared at the woman, even when Claire laid her down gently. 

Suddenly, it's as if Lea's no longer in the deteriorating building but elsewhere. She's no longer standing but lying on her back. Oh, so familiar yet alien images of an empty, sterile laboratory room flash in and out, darkness tinging the edges of her sight. It's like her limbs are covered in lead, cold and oppressing and constricting her lungs. Gasps echo in the abandoned room. As Lea turned her head, she was met with the gaunt face of a small child, dark-skinned, tight curls. Lea could see the light fade from her eyes, the rise and fall of her skeletal chest grow still, leaving her alone. A room of corpses. A soft sob escapes Lea's lips. She knew her, yet she didn't, and it felt like a hole was being ripped right in the center of her chest. 

Just as suddenly as the memory came, it disappeared when a hand gently but firmly took hold of her shoulder. Lea flinched but stopped herself from darting off and away as her covered eyes met with Claire's carefully guarded yet distraught gaze, wet from held in tears. 

'… It's just Claire… It doesn't matter… Just focus on getting out of here…' 

"Sorry… let's just get a move on…" Lea muttered, stepping around the body, not sparing a look down. While her sight was slightly hazy and obscured by the cloth, it didn't block out nearly as much as the broken teen had thought. From the corner of her eye, she could see the other anxious girl send a look toward Claire. She gave Moira a small and almost unnoticeable nod before thankfully moving past the bloodied corpse and rounding the corner. 

"I can hear the wind out there. This must be the way out." Moira spoke up. Her tone was hopeful this time, and her cadence hardly had any nervous tremors. Lea tilted her head, straining her ears to listen for what Moira picked up on. After a short moment, she could hear it, but from where and how far was the real question. 

'… What the actual fuck is the point of this super hearing bullshit if it's absolutely useless in abandoned buildings…' 

"I hope it's close…" Lea muttered, awkwardly shifting her head to look down at the ground, rubbing at her arms. 

"We just need to find a way through," Claire reassured, voice gentle yet firm. She descended the staircase, covered with dried and fresh fragrant blood. After one flight of stairs, though, the group nearly froze at the sight of yet another relatively fresh corpse. 

"What kind of whack-job… this is not ok!" Moira exclaimed, face scrunched up in disgust. Lea agreed wholeheartedly as she observed how the guard's throat was lacerated roughly and to the bone, and how he was hung by his feet. It reminded her of pigs butchered and hung to drain all the blood into buckets. Unfortunately, the dead body had something handy: a set of keys, a way out of this new hellscape. 

Claire, nose scrunched up with disgust as well but paired with unsurprised eyes, calmly walked as close as she could to the edge of the walkway. Reaching out, she inched closer and closer to the hanging body. Lea watched with hushed breath, eyes darting from the glinting metal to the bloodied hands, back and forth. Just as Claire's fingertips brushed the edge of the largest key ring, a latch unlocked, and the body fell limply to the base with a loud and wet slam. 

"Well, that blows." 

"Are you fucking kidding me…"

A blaring noise fills the silence, the same one that sounded off before their cell doors slid open. All three snap their heads in the direction of it. At the end of the stairs was a door with a new glowing green light. 

'… I'm so tired of these games…'

#dragged into the blood #original character #resident evil #resident evil revelations 2 #resident evil fanfiction #claire redfield #moira burton #don't expect too much activity the ice storm took my power #ao3 link #ao3 fanfic

[qzwrites]

nykalaeni/astarion 3

this bit could also probably be longer but it's already one of the longer contiguous bits i have!

it seemed odd to me that you got arguably more information in the relationship upgrade scene if you don't interact with araj, so. here's nykalaeni having Some Questions and getting some of those answers.

it is at this point that she starts to realize she is in over her head :) but she is also too attached to astarion now to reconsider :) she's just going to try and do it even though neither of them are any good at relationships :)

-

Nykalaeni didn't give the encounter with Araj Oblodra a second thought after they left her room. She'd gotten an interesting potion out of it, as well as a bit of confirmation that she wasn't the only person in the world who thought the idea of being bitten by a vampire was hot. The rest of Moonrise Towers and the evolution of the cult of the Absolute was distressing enough that she had practically forgotten it by the next time they made camp.

Then Astarion thanked her for what had felt like the only reasonable decision, and revealed that he was very used to seducing people to get them to do what he wanted. She didn't have time to get really worried before he took her hand and said, "This is nice," but it still felt a bit like getting a rug yanked out from beneath her feet. She had thought they were on the same page about their relationship.

Well, no, that wasn't quite true; she wasn't entirely ready to say she was with Astarion and only Astarion when he suggested it, but it had seemed like the simplest way to avoid misunderstandings in the future, and he had been smug enough about the idea that Nykalaeni didn't want to take it from him.

Although Nykalaeni wondered what exactly had been going through Astarion's head during that conversation, if he wasn't used to making decisions based on what he wanted. Was that what he thought kept him safest? Or was that what he thought was the simplest solution to the problem of people thinking Nykalaeni would throw him over for them? Or had he actually been making a decision for himself without noticing it, perhaps discounting it as a choice because of those same practical rationales?

"For the gods' sake, just ask him," Gale said, the fifth or sixth time Nykalaeni paced past him at the cook fire.

"What?" Nykalaeni asked, turning to face him. "Ask who what?"

Gale rolled his eyes. "Astarion, I assume," he said. "You've got a serious 'relationship woe walk' going on. He said something, and you can't stop thinking about it. Isn't that right?"

Nykalaeni frowned at Gale, but she felt no psionic stirrings from her tadpole. He wasn't actually reading her mind.

"Have an actual conversation about it," Gale said. "It'll help a lot more than pacing around camp, looking perplexed."

"I don't know if I ought to be taking relationship advice from you," Nykalaeni said. No one else's ex-lover had suggested they blow themselves up for the greater good, after all.

He shrugged. "Suit yourself," he said. "But I don't think there's any advice more widely applicable than 'talk about it'."

In the end, she did take Gale's advice. Nykalaeni told herself she would have come to the conclusion it was the only solution on her own eventually. She was an adult, after all, and intelligent, even if her experience with relationships was lacking. If she wanted to understand what was going on, she needed to ask. It was only logical.

Even if it was faintly terrifying.

"There you are, my dear," Astarion said as Nykalaeni approached his tent, setting aside the book he was reading. "I was beginning to wonder if one of our traveling companions had another little crisis for you to manage."

"Not exactly," Nykalaeni said. She automatically stepped into his personal space, seeking the comfort of his body in proximity to hers, before realizing what she was doing and freezing. He noticed, obviously, and made a small questioning noise. Nykalaeni took a step back, and said, "I wanted to ask about something you said earlier."

"Ah," Astarion said. "And which thing would that be?"

Part of Nykalaeni was bursting to ask Do you even like me at all?, which was ridiculous; he had said as much, and if she couldn't trust him to tell the truth about his own feelings, there was no point in trying to have any sort of relationship. Even if he had also lied about them before, or at the very least misled her. They were in an unusual, precarious position, all of them, and the more Astarion let her glimpse his life before the tadpoles, the more Nykalaeni felt as if her romantic inexperience was the least of the problems between them.

But the thing that was really bothering her was how she had no idea what this thing between them looked and felt like from his perspective. She had thought she did; she thought, until their first visit to Moonrise Towers, that they were having more or less the same experience: they were attracted to each other, they had very nice sex, and neither of them were eager to jump into anything more emotionally complicated. Nykalaeni certainly hadn't felt prepared to match Lae'zel's level of intensity, and then she had been uncomfortable with how quickly Wyll jumped from a kiss to some sort of claim on her. She'd bought what Astarion clearly wanted them all to believe, that he had many casual lovers back in Baldur's Gate, and believed him when he presented his proposition as a bit of casual fun. Obviously things weren't like that anymore, but it sounded like that might not have ever been how Astarion felt about it.

"You mentioned how you used to lure victims for Cazador," Nykalaeni said.

"Ah," Astarion said again, this time frowning. "Yes. That."

"It has occurred to me," Nykalaeni said slowly, "that a very effective way to ensure someone keeps you around is to make yourself indispensable. And most people would find an enthusiastic bed partner difficult to abandon."

"Right," Astarion said. "Well, it's nice to know you do pay attention sometimes, I suppose," he said lightly, teasingly. Nykalaeni frowned up at him, and Astarion blanched and looked away. "Look," he said, "that was my plan at first--seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings for me so you would never turn on me." He chuckled a little through the last bit of that sentence, more self-deprecating or hysterical than amused. "It was easy," he said. "Instinctive. Habits from two hundred years of charming people kicked in. All you had to do was fall for it."

"I must've made it very easy for you," Nykalaeni said. She had, after all, already demonstrated a willingness to have sex with her traveling companions, even if it was potentially dangerous, even if they disagreed on how to handle things, by going to bed with Lae'zel. And then she'd let Abdirak hit her, which was objectively foolhardy but had been so enjoyable she'd been tempted to ask to go again.

"You did," Astarion agreed, "but then again, you didn't, because the other requirement of my nice, simple plan was that I not fall for you. Which is where things fell apart."

"So you do actually want this," Nykalaeni said. He had already said as much, but the idea that he still just thought this was the best way to get what he wanted had wormed its way into her brain, like the horrible little tadpoles that had brought them together.

"Of course I do," Astarion said, wide-eyed. "You're beautiful and clever and so much more."

Nykalaeni frowned. "I'm not looking for reassurance," she said. "The last century of evidence to the contrary, I'm evidently a hot commodity. At least among the sort of weirdos who get kidnapped by mind-flayers." He laughed at that, as she had meant him to. Nykalaeni went on, "You simply...didn't sound like you enjoyed seduction and sex as much as you made out at first. The more I thought about it, the more I worried it was something you were doing for my sake."

"Oh," Astarion said. He smiled a little sadly. "Well, to be perfectly honest," he said, "it was...difficult, at first. To some degree, it still feels tainted by how long I spent having to do it for him. But do you know, being with you has helped?" He smiled, more happily this time--well, mischievously--and said, "I spent two hundred years playing at being a rake, and here you come along, breaking hearts left and right because you sincerely want an uncomplicated bit of fun." Nykalaeni groaned, and wished she was wearing one of her robes that she could have pulled up over her face. Astarion caught her hand, and said softly, "It is easier, now, to actually enjoy sex again."

"I can't tell you how relieved I am to hear it," Nykalaeni said, her ears burning. She had to address the ruffles on Astarion's shirt rather than his face. "But I did mean it, about not wanting you to do anything you don't want to do. Even though I really enjoy having sex with you, if you don't want to anymore, or you just don't want to when I ask, you should say that."

"I'll...try to keep that in mind," Astarion said. "Though I admit, I'm even less sure what a relationship entails when you take sex off the table."

Nykalaeni thought. "I think it's just like friendship," she said. "But with the addition of cuddling and kissing. If that's still something you want," she added.

"Hmm," Astarion said. "I don't think I've ever had an actual friend, either. Not...like you." He tugged on her hand, pulling her closer until they were touching, then put his hands on her waist. "I do like this," he said, as Nykalaeni slipped her arms under his. "And I do enjoy that thing you've been doing, where you come over just to ask for a kiss, and then go back to picking apart ancient curses or murder plots or what-have-you."

"Okay," Nykalaeni said. "Good." She leaned up and gave him a brief, chaste kiss.

#bg3 #nykalaeni #eventually she will realize he probably also Felt Some Kind Of Way about biting her while they were doing it #and have another version of this conversation where astarion is like idk it's complicated #and nykalaeni is like BUT I WANT A CLEAR-CUT ANSWER #fanfic

[or-something-better]

September 20, 2022

🔮✏️🚨🔮✏️🚨🔮✏️🚨🔮✏️🚨🔮✏️🚨🔮✏️🚨🔮✏️🚨

This weeks Writing Topic is brought to you all by your favorite Techy Charlie "What is the Biggest Lesson You’ve Learned?"

((And Dean you can't say "Not feeding my Mogwi after Midnight" 😄))

……………………………………….

Ruby

What is the Biggest Lesson You’ve Learned?

When you’ve lived as long as I have, you can’t help but have learned quite a few lessons in life…

Things like;

You Can’t Please Everyone ( you know that’s true! So I just gave up trying.)

You Don’t Always Get What You Want, (If I had a dollar for every time THAT was true!)

It’s Not All About You (Ok, sometimes it is, but mostly, it’s not.)

Patience Is a Virtue (I call bullshit on this one. It just makes me want to pull out my dagger and stab someone.)

Life Is Not Fair (Ok, this ranks right up with ‘You Don’t Always Get What You Want’)

Don’t Hesitate When You Should Take Action  (Ooh, this is a certifiable fact! Barely got out of a few situations because of that!)

Don’t Take Anything for Granted (I’m beginning to see the logic in this one.)

But the number one lesson that’s I’ve learned in my very long life is:

Family don’t end in blood.

…………………………….

Sam

*What is the Biggest Lesson You’ve Learned?*

Wow. That’s a lot to think about... I guess I can say that I’ve learned a LOT of big lessons throughout my life and I think I’ve been pretty open about sharing some of them with you guys. Chuckles Even if ya’ll weren’t always interested in hearing them.

Picking the “Biggest” from all of them… I guess I’m going to have to go with my revised feelings about Dad, John Winchester, and how he brought us up. You know, back when it was all happening, I was absolutely sure that Dad was usually wrong about things, and I knew better. Whether it was about him being off after the next hunt, or Dean and I being left alone for days at a time, or just that he didn’t seem to understand my desire for a different style of life. We just seemed to butt-heads about everything.

I couldn’t understand what he was saying, and he couldn’t understand what I was trying to say. Don’t get me wrong, I still think that what I wanted for my life… the whole higher education and normal white picket-fence life, was still a valid concept. But now that I’m older and know so very much more about our lives and the factors that were influencing and affecting it. Well, I just know that I now believe Dad was right too.

Back then, I didn’t know about Azazel and him having bled in my mouth. I didn’t know that there was this grander plan for resurrecting Lucifer and the part I was pegged to play in that whole thing. Dad… he knew, at least he knew enough about it to understand that my getting out of this life and away from all of it, wasn’t gonna happen. And yet, instead of him telling me and killing the hope I held onto… he spent his life trying to change all that he could. For me and for everybody. I’m pretty humbled by that.

So, I guess my Biggest Lesson… would have to be that John Winchester was Right a lot of those times when we came head-to-head. I just wish I knew then, what I know now.

………………………………..

Charlie

My biggest lesson

That’s a pretty tough question, like the boys I have a lot of them…. The biggest I think would have to have been after I met them. They really taught me I didn’t have to depend on anyone, I was much more capable than I gave myself credit for. But it was ok to want someone else around. At the same time they taught me that family is sometimes who you choose. I remember seeing them again, at the larp tent… my days as the queen of moondor… I was pretty carefree. I really thought I could get away from what I knew, seeing them was a sign I hadn’t done it well enough. Once I realized, once again how much they were there for me…. They kind of became permanent fixtures. As someone that has spent the majority of my life doing things on my own, that was a huge step. They taught me hunting, and to trust my instincts and how to protect myself. All of that boils down to “it’s ok to let your guard down sometimes, there are some people who truly want to help” which is the family I’ve chosen. I for one, am thankful for that.

……………………………..

Patience

the biggest lesson I've learned

The day I met Dean and Jodi I think played a major role in the most important lesson I will ever learn. Still in high school they came to warn Dad and I that there was trouble coming. Deep down I already knew after seeing different visions (at the time though I didn't know what was happening). That was when I found out that he had ran my grandmother away because she had visions too. And it was the day she was murdered. Now in college I think back on that day and how I almost hated my dad. A few months later when I had the vision that the team was going to have trouble and dad forbid me to warn them. I had to be me to be who I was born to be. So yeah this is my biggest lesson to date always be yourself.

…………………………………

Dean

the biggest lesson I’ve learned?

Now I could say just about everything here....family not being just blood, or how not to mess with Gabe.... Sometimes those who aren’t blood are better family or not all monsters are actually monsters....but that would make this idea too easy.

If I really had to choose one lesson worth remembering, it would probably have to be...you cant save everyone.

Many times on our hunts we come across innocent people needing help. Even behind some monsters are innocent people who need saving and not really monsters.

However, in our line of work, as much as we want to save everyone, in all reality we really cant... I remember coming across a girl and she had been turned werewolf and yes she was controlling her hunger and thought she was doing well. We had let her go. We trusted her until a few years later.

Suddenly killing were happening everywhere. Bodies dropping left and right. When i first saw this girl i thought it was Kate... So we followed her and come to find out it was her sister Tasha. Kate had watched her sister die and wanted to save her so she turned her and was working with controlling her cravings. Kate begged us to not kill her. Kate thought she could handle it.

Until Tasha showed up with the pack and turned against Kate. Tasha explained how much she enjoyed the craving and made it clear she wasnt going to stop. Kate ended up having to kill her to stop her. There just was no hope now matter how much we wanted to save them.

There were other times things went about the same type of issues. But we learned we had to be more careful even while trying to save the person underneath it just isn't always possible.

………………………………

Crowley

The biggest lesson I’ve learned? That’s simple, and I learned it young. Never trust anyone. Growing up, my mother was my closest thing to a constant companion, and she traded me for power over and over again, and in one case almost for livestock. Later, after an admitted murder attempt, she traded me for freedom. In Hell, Azazel traded my autonomy for a spy on Lilith, once again proving even though he was family, I still couldn’t trust him to choose me over a grab for power. Time and time again demons would prove to be, well, demons and by extension proving trust was only as far as the other person could benefit me. Top side I threw my lot in with the Winchester’s, and by that point I was sorely lacking any trust left to remain. Even though they were the good guys, they were of course quick to double cross me. I couldn’t blame them, they expected me to do the same. But even as I thought we warmed up to each other, Moose would prove it was one sided.. He used my budding friendship with squirrel to attempt an assassination on behalf of my mother. So, of course, proving myself insane as I continue trying to build a circle of real trust, I know…..I know I can’t trust them. I can’t trust anyone. Not even myself.

[moonlit-reveriee]

Baby Blue

technoblade x fem!reader

concept: techno is scared of ‘corrupting’ the reader, but the reader’s kinda into it...

content warning // NSFW, virgin!reader, very minor angst?, small argument that gets resolved

listen to this while you read: BBBlue (Single) by Olivver the Kid

(this fic was heavily inspired by the lyrics of this song, so i highly recommended giving it a listen!)

───※ ·❆· ※───

When Techno found out you were a virgin, he was terrified. Not necessarily of the thought itself, but of the implications.

He’d never forget the look on your face when you told him. You tried to be casual about it, but he knew you well enough to spot the dusting of pink across your cheeks. You nuzzled yourself closer into his side. Whether out of embarrassment or something else entirely, he couldn’t tell. All he could feel was his heart dropping as the voices chanted at him to “ruin her”

Of course you, his pure sweet angel, would be a virgin. He once again crumbled under the idea that you had chosen him. How on earth could a person like you even think of being with a beast like him. Yet alone, giving up your virginity to him.

He hated how horribly turned on he was by the thought of taking it.

The voices had been relentless about it ever since. They were hyper focused on your every move, twisting every thought of his into something promiscuous. When you rolled out of bed in the morning and stretched, a small sigh escaping your lips, it was endless cries of “make her do that again” “you should fuck those moans out of her” “make her scream”

While making breakfast together in the morning, they wouldn’t stop telling him to “bend her over the counter” “take it right here”

Even at times where he was alone, the voices preoccupied him with endless thoughts of you. He was fairly certain they had forced him to imagine every possible way in which he could have you. “imagine fucking her against the wall” “you can be gentle for the first time y’know” “she’d feel so good writhing underneath us” “press her face into the mattress instead” “make her get on her knees and suck you off” “she’ll be such a pretty little slut for us”

He tried to take care of himself as often as he could, but it was becoming impossible to keep up with. There were only so many times a day he could jerk himself off alone behind locked doors. He was desperate, and sexually frustrated to say the least.

He felt disgusting for it.

After a week of this torment, he could barely even look at you yet alone touch you without the voices and his own guilt pounding against his skull. You couldn’t even think about broaching the subject again, because he was avoiding physical contact like the plague. He wouldn’t come to bed until he knew you were asleep, and would leave long before you woke.

As much as he tried to hide it, you could tell he was tired. Something was wrong, but you knew that he’d never just tell you about his problems unprompted. Techno was insufferably stubborn in that way. After several days of avoiding your gaze and leaning away from your touch, you chose to confront him.

“Techno”, you called for his attention quietly, trying to sound stern while remaining gentle with him. He didn’t turn to fully face you, but he glanced at the spot on the wall just above your head.

You struggled to find the words you wanted to say, so you settled on telling him, “Techno, you look tired.”

He turned his attention away from you. “Just a lot of work around the house this week. I’ll be fine after I rest.”

“Then come to bed with me.” You saw the way his body tensed and tilted away from you at that simple suggestion.

“I just need to write a couple letters first. You can go ahead of me.”

“Techno...”, you whined, daring to take a step closer to him. He gave you an almost panicked look, “why does it feel like you’ve been avoiding me?”

“I haven’t been avoiding you”, he responded quickly, trying to look through you instead of at you.

“Yes you have”, you responded firmly. A flash of guilt washed over his face at your tone. “You haven’t kissed or touched me for nearly a week now. I don’t even know for sure if you sleep in the same bed as me anymore. Fuck, you barely even talk to me.”

Angry tears threatened to spill down your cheeks, but you wanted to hold them in. Techno felt his chest tighten at the sight of it. He instinctively turned and reached out to comfort you, but forced himself to freeze.

“There”, you said, gesturing towards him, “just like that. You’re stopping yourself. Why are you doing that?”

He repeatedly opened and closed his fists at his side, wanting to have any conversation other than this one.

“[y/n], there’s just a lot going on in my mind right now”, he said. It wasn’t a complete lie. “I just need to work though it.”

“Then let me help you.”

“No”, he responded a little too quickly, “I- I mean, I just don’t want to talk about it with you yet...”

“Why not?”, you retorted, trying to squeeze any information you could out of him.

“I just don’t, okay? It’s uncomfortable, I don’t want to talk about it yet.”

“... is this about me being a virgin?”

“I never said that”, he replied, but the tension in his shoulders was enough to tip you off.

“Ah geez Technoblade, if it was that much of a problem for ya, you should have just told me”, you said sarcastically, “instead of avoiding all physical contact for a like week straight!”

“It’s not a problem, [y/n].”

“Certainly doesn’t feel that way.”

Techno huffed in frustration, grabbing a fistful of his hair at the root. He wasn’t sure if he was more upset with himself, or the fact that a few of the voices were still begging him to “please fuck her already”

“Love, I wasn’t avoiding you because I didn’t want it. They”, he tapped a finger against the side of his skull, “they want it so badly. It’s driving me insane.”

He breathed in and out shakily, trying to gauge your expression in the brief moments before he continued.

“I’m a monster. I’ve spilt more blood than anyone every should in a single lifetime. My appearance is more beast than man.”

He looked up briefly to find you staring right at him, a tight-lipped frown upon your face.

“What does that have to do with any of this?”

“I- ... I don’t want to corrupt your innocence”, he admitted.

“What on earth do you mean by that?”

“[y/n], you’re so perfect”, he answered almost breathlessly, “you’re so kind and so pure. Just living with me does enough to taint your reputation, I don’t wanna-“

He cut himself off to swallow thickly. He almost seemed scared of the words he was going to say next.

“I don’t want to ruin this part of you either...”

A heavy silence filled the tiny sitting room of techno’s cottage. In those few seconds, your eyes widened ever so slightly as his words suddenly clicked in your mind. This hulking boar of a man, an undisputed war criminal, was scared. He was scared of damaging you, your reputation, or your recently revealed ‘innocence’. Compared to himself, he saw you as a pure being who could be tainted by unwholesome thoughts.

If what he said about the voices was true, then his actions of the past few days would’ve made sense for him.

“Oh techno...”, you muttered softly, tentatively placing a hand on his jaw. His posture was curled inward, making him look small despite his size. He was stiff at first, but allowed you to lift his gaze to meet yours. He searched your eyes desperately for an indication of your reaction. You gave him a reassuring smile.

“Do you remember when we first met?”

A small wave of confusion washed over his face, but he nodded anyways. “It was at the festival...”

“That’s right”, you said, moving the hand on his face down to rest over his shoulder, “and do you remember what I did that day?”

“You threw an axe into Schlatt’s shoulder”, he answered, watching as the scene played out in his memory.

You lived with Niki in her bakery at the time, and witnessed firsthand the injustice she faced during Schlatt’s presidency. As the chaos after Tubbo’s execution occurred, you took the opportunity to hurl your axe where Schlatt stood upon his podium. The blow wasn’t fatal, but that wasn’t necessarily your goal. You just wanted to see the man in pain.

“It was a lucky shot really”, you admitted, “I wasn’t even aiming properly.” That managed to draw a small smile onto Techno’s lips.

“And do you remember”, you continued, “when I tried to confront the Butcher Army by myself?”

He grimaced at the thought. You had told him you just needed to make a quick trip to L’manburg for some supplies, leaving him at home alone to recover from the previous day’s events. You returned that evening with a sprained wrist and a couple large bruises forming on your body. None of them were trying to kill you, but you took a pretty good beating from Quackity just for trying to confront them.

“Why are you bringing all of this up now?”, he asked.

“Because”, you said, “this is the evidence that will support my next point.”

He looked bewildered by that statement, but continued to listen.

“I’m not a perfect person”, you resumed, “I have blood on my hands just like you do. I know it’s hard to compare to you, but I’m not devoid of my own sins. I can be mean, I’ve hurt people. I’m not a pure, angelic being who would quiver at a single inappropriate thought. I think you forget that sometimes.”

He let your words swirl around in his head; he couldn’t deny the logic in them. The evidence prevented him from denying the truth of your statement. He could almost be mad that you’d talked him into a corner, but he was more overjoyed at the fact that you knew him well enough to do so.

“And you know...”, you spoke quietly, letting your hand fall down to rest on his chest, “if you did somehow ‘corrupt my innocence’ as you say... I really wouldn’t mind that.”

Techno’s breath hitched in his throat. There were a brief few moments, maybe minutes, where he just stared at you. Then his lips were on yours; sudden and clumsy, but passionate. You gripped the fabric of his shirt as he grabbed at your waist, desperate to have you in his arms again.

“I’m sorry, I had to”, he muttered, his lips left hovering a hair’s breadth away from yours.

“You’re so silly sometimes”, you sighed affectionately, rubbing small circles into his collarbone. He gave you a gentle smirk before pressing another kiss into your lips.

“I’m sorry darling, I really am”, he said as he drew you into a tight hug. He took in your scent and the feel of your skin for the first time in days. It felt like he could survive off the feeling of your arms wrapped around his body alone. He wondered why he ever let himself be depraved of this.

“You know I trust you, right?”, you spoke with your face pressed into his chest.

“I’m not sure why, but yes.”

You decided not to reprimand him for saying that. You could help him unpack all that later. Instead, you brought your head up to whisper in his ear.

“You have my full and unconditional consent to take my virginity whenever you’re ready.”

Techno inhaled and held his breath, though for what, he wasn’t sure. It took a while for the full weight of those words to sink in. He leaned back to stare at your face, bringing one of his large and shaky hands up to cup your cheek.

“Are you sure?”, his eyes were wide with trepidation, practically pleading with you to tell him the truth. You leaned into his palm, indulging in the feeling of his skin on yours.

“I want you, techno. I’ll wait as long as you need me to.”

Techno was lost in your words. The sudden absence of guilt left his heart light and airy in his chest. For the first time in days, the voices were only a gentle murmur.

“she’s so beautiful” “she wants you” “make her feel good” “show her how special she is” “make her smile” “she’ll be so pretty” “she’s always pretty” “be gentle, no need to rush”

“make love to her”

“... I think I’m ready now.”

───※ ·❆· ※───

ayyyy guess who finally finished writing something!!!

parts of this feel a little rushed but ehhhhhh i was just excited to finally post it. i looove writing techno as an extremely self-conscious character who’s too caught up in their own head to see how ridiculous they’re being. so, this was a treat for me to write

i hope you enjoyed :D

-moonlight

#c!techno #red:moon #mcyt x reader #techno x reader #technoblade x reader #mcyt smut #techno smut

[robin-the-enby]

Missing scalpels

Pairing: 'Hawkeye' Pierce x reader

Summary: You can't deny your attraction to Hawkeye. Things get steamy between you and him, but things don't work out. As Hawkeye tries to understand why, the rest of the camp is busy trying to catch a thief.

Warnings: self harm, depression, adult themes (but not explicitly nsfw)

A/N: Am I really adding another fandom to write for when I haven't written for some others in ages, if at all? You bet! I'm also in a very angsty mood, so have this...whatever this is.

You've always admired his hands. The ones he used to save lives, even though the purpose why was highly debatable. The same hands that were used to holding a martini glass, ever so gently, were now exploring wildly your body, like if he didn't map out every curve of it in time, he'd die.

Captain Pierce, more widely known as Hawkeye, was a notorious flirt. If you wouldn't know better, you'd even go as far as to call him frivolous. But you knew better. Or, at least you'd like to think you did. There was so much more to the surgeon than he let on and maybe that was why you were letting him mold you just the way he wanted, just the way he liked. Even though he probably saw what you were about to do just as some fun, to take his mind off the constant death lingering all around him.

A particularly sensual nip at your neck brought you out of your thoughts and you realized that at some point you had closed your eyes. Deciding to endulge your neediness, you opened them to take a peek at your temporary lover.

Normally you wouldn't be able to tear your gaze away from Hawkeye, especially when he looked so disheveled, but instead, your eyes were drawn to the lightbulb hanging over your heads. You felt Hawkeye sneak his hands under your shirt and a shiver ran through you. You could hear the surgeon chuckle, but you grew more and more restless by the second.

It took everything in you to take your hands away from his body, but you managed to grab his hands, that were getting closer and closer to your chest. "Wait..." you whispered. Hawkeye's movements stilled as he waited for you to continue. "Shouldn't we turn the light off?" you asked sheepishly. The surgeon chuckled again as his hands picked up from where he left off "Why? Don't tell me you're ashamed of yourself." he started placing kisses onto your neck again as he murmured "I would have to show you why you shouldn't be."

This time, it was your turn to chuckle. He didn't show it much, but Hawkeye could be sweet at times. "No..." you breathed out "But- but what if someone comes here?" you tried to mask your uneasiness, your hands still trying to slow his down. "That won't happen." Pierce reassured you "Everyone is trying to catch some sleep, before the next choppers arive."

This time, you grabbed his hands more firmly. With your head hanging low, you stepped away from him "I'm sorry, but I can't do this." Hawkeye looked confused. Why the sudden change of mind? "What- why? Is it because of the light? If it's that important to you, we can turn it off." he tried to reassure you again, but you only shook your head. The more you thought about it, the less appealing the whole ordeal was. You were sure that his skilled hands would feel what you were desperately trying to hide, even if he couldn't see it.

"I'm sorry. I really am. It's not your fault Pierce." you told him, before quickly slipping out the door, making a beeline to your tent, leaving Hawkeye alone and confused.

It's not like Hawkeye had never faced rejection before. But something about this case bugged him. He couldn't get you out of his head. You seemed into it, into him, at the start. Did the light bother you that much? But you said you weren't insecure about yourself. Maybe you just didn't want to admit it. But even though that seemed like the most logical answer, something still wasn't right.

"Hey, Hawkeye!" BJ snapped his fingers in front of his friend's face and watched with a smile as he returned to the present time. "Rise 'n shine, sweetheart!" BJ laughed. But seeing the lack of reponse from his tentmate made him frown "What's up with you? You've been like this since yesterday."

When Hawkeye still didn't answer, BJ began thinking. "Did something happen with (Y/N)?" he asked. Hawkeye had been preparing to take their colleague out the whole day, so maybe something went wrong? "Nothing." BJ quirked a brow "So it went well?" he pried further. "No, nothing happened." Hawkeye grumbled from his cot. BJ was surprised "They rejected you?"

"No, they seemed really into it at first, but...then they suddenly changed their mind." Hawkeye explained. BJ hummed "Well, happens sometimes." "I don't know. Something's not right." Before BJ could respond, the door to the tent opened, revealing a frowning Charles. "Ah, Charles! Seems you're in a great mood as always!" BJ exclaimed. "Just like anytime I see the two of you." the surgeon snapped back.

BJ sighed "Great. Now I have to share the same space with not one, but two grumpy idiots." Charles looked appalled "Well forgive me for my sour mood, but medical tools have been mysteriously dissapearing and nobody knows why and who did it! I think that that is a more valid reason to be 'grumpy' than mulling over a date gone wrong." Charles protested. The last statement grabbed Hawkeye's attention "How do you know about that?"

"Oh please, is there anyone who doesn't?" Charles rolled his eyes "Everyone knows that you two were up to no good yesterday and when today morning during breakfast they showed up looking like a kicked puppy, even a blind man would see something went wrong." When Charles saw the surprised look Pierce gave him, he couldn't help but sigh in annoyance "Don't give me that look. Everybody's noticed how they eye you up anytime you're not looking."

Hawkeye's gaze turned to BJ, who uncertainly nodded. Hawkeye frowned "Then why did they change their mind..." he muttered, mostly for himself. But not quiet enough, as Winchester piped up "(Y/N) rejected you? A wise decision. In my opinion. If I was in love with someone, I wouldn't want to start something when I'm not even sure if the other one takes it seriously."

Was that really the case? Were you in love with him? He can't deny he'd be flattered, but...what would he do? Somehow, he couldn't bring himself to break your heart. But did he feel the same towards you?

"So, how long has equipment been dissapearing?" BJ asked when Hawkeye got lost in dreamland again. He'd help him if he asked, but right now, it seemed he needed to sort something out within himself. "Four months." Winchester nodded "One scalpel each month. It's possible that tools might get lost or accidentally thrown out, but four times? Month after month? Even colonel Potter thinks it's suspicious." Charles continued and BJ nodded. It was definitelly weird.

"I need to go." Hawkeye shot up from his bed and out the Swamp before any of the two men could say a word. What was he going to tell you? He had to admit that he didn't think what would happen after he'd sleep with you. He never did. Because it just wasn't needed. He'd get his fun and made sure the other one had fun too and that was it. So why was it that the thought of you seeing him in a bad light made his stomach squeeze? Maybe he knew but wasn't ready to admit it. Not yet.

The fact that you couldn't be found didn't help either. He checked everywhere. Post-op, mess hall, your tent, hell, even the showers! But it was as if you'd vanished into thin air. Hawkeye decided to take a walk around, to clear his thoughts, before doing anything else. You had to be somewhere. And even if he was sure you were avoiding him, he knew you couldn't keep it up forever.

As the surgeon neared the minefield, he saw a figure sitting on the ground. They were sitting at the edge of the field, so Hawkeye crept closer, as to not scare them, which could result in a very nasty accident. As he got closer, he recognized your hair. How couldn't he? He kept imagining how it would feel between his fingers.

"Hey, (Y/N)..." Hawkeye called out softly. You stiffened visibly and Pierce frowned. You were hiding something. "Go away..." you said softly, but he was already on his way to you. With quick strides, Hawkeye was soon in front of you and the sight before him shocked him. There you were, sat on the dusty ground, one arm resting on your leg, the wrist bloodied, while the other clutched a scalpel.

"What have you done..." Hawkeye whispered. Tears rolled down your cheeks. It was pointless to try and hide now. "Put it down." Hawkeye pleaded, but you only clutched your weapon tighter "(Y/N), sweetheart, please put it down. We need to get those wounds cleaned." For a second, you held onto the tool, before letting it clamper to the ground. Next thing, Hawkeye was crouched next to you, doctor mode on as he kicked the offending weapon far away from your reach and pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket.

"(Y/N) this will need stitches." Hawkeye said and looked at you with sadness in his eyes. You shook your head. "Don't be stubborn, this could get infected!" he growled, trying not to lose his temper. "I know how to take care of myself Hawkeye! I've done this a dozen times already!" Horror took over the man's face "What did you say?" You were so screwed.

"Where?" Hawkeye asked grimly. You shook your head. "Where. (Y/N)." he commanded. "Arms, legs, stomach..." you mumbled. Hawkeye could swear he was going to start crying soon."Wait here." he instructed and jogged off. As if you were planning on leaving.

In five minutes, Hawkeye was back with a first aid kit and started tending to your arm. "So the thief was you. Sneaky you." he joked, but his voice was choked up. You couldn't smile in this situation, but luckilly, he understood. When he was done, Hawkeye raised his eyes to your tear stained face "Can I see them?" Your eyes widened. "Just to make sure they're not infected. You slowly nodded and stood up.

You started by taking off your shirt, followed by your pants. Your body held numerous scars, some of them already white and nearly invisible, but most red and raised. Pierce thought he was going to vomit. There were so many. He wasn't disgusted. He had seen more gore in the last few years than most people in their entire life, but this was something completely different. Seeing someone he held dear mutilating themself this way...the sight was horrible.

"Please don't tell anyone Hawkeye." you pleaded as a fresh wave of tears made their way out of your eyes. Hawkeye wished he could argue with you, but he knew that if he told somebody, you would be immediately sent somewhere as bad as the war. So he nodded "But I'll be keeping an eye on those." he gestured to your wrist "And also that you don't steal any more scalpels, ok?" he smiled and it warmed your soul.

#m*a*s*h #mash 4077 #hawkeye pierce #hawkeye pierce x reader #mash x reader

[polonium-snap]

The Beauty & the Deku chp.3

Summary: Izuku and Katsuki somehow get trapped in a book of fairy tales, to get out of it they decide to play their part in the stories. How far are they willing to go to fulfill the romantic plotlines? Will Katsuki be able to play the role of a fairy tale princess?

ao3

Wattpad

<<Prev| First |Next>>

The ceiling was pinkish brown and wooden, comfortable heat embraced the slowly waking up body of a gorgeous blonde-haired man. Birds tweeted loudly outside his window, as they usually did these days, man fuck those birds, he thought, not only were they disrupting his sleep but they were also a sign he was still trapped in a never-ending nightmare.

“Fine, fine, I’ll get up.” Katsuki sat up on the bed. “You can stop yapping.” His only comfort was knowing at least the damn animals weren’t talking.

As the previous times, he woke up in an unfamiliar room, though this time it seemed more lively, and even if it was still quite far from his own room back at home, it was quieter. Katsuki sighed and stood up, leaving the warmth of his bed to face what was his reality as for now, he changed into some better clothes, noticing with relief that they were comfortable enough.

He went down the stairs where he found the idiots he calls friends making a ruckus and giggling for some reason.

“Let’s make it red.” Kirishima’s voice could be heard.

“No, no, pink.” Mina said authoritatively.

“Isn’t that the same color?” Now that was dunce face.

Katsuki could only thank the sky that they weren’t animals this time. “What are you idiots doing?” The blonde makes his presence known.

They jump to the table, trying to obstruct his view of whatever they were hiding behind and stuttering in a less than conspicuous way.

“We want you to pick some berries.” Kirishima said, handing him a basket.

“Yes, exactly!” Kaminari said, further cementing the fact they are hiding something from Bakugou.

The logic of Katsuki’s new approach to finding a way out of this hellhole would say he refuses to do anything they ask of him, but he thinks he knows what story they are in now, he knew it as soon as Bakugou saw three of his friends in ridiculous color-coded outfits that brought more childhood memories, he was in Sleeping Beauty. He had to go to the forest to supposedly look for berries so he would find his stupid childhood friend, Deku, who for some reason was always prince charming in these stories, while Katsuki was stuck in uncomfortable dresses.

“Yeah, whatever, I’ll go.” He rolled his eyes because showing disdain was the only thing that was not censored in this shitty world. He takes the basket and pretends he doesn’t know the three idiots are planning for a birthday party or something like that.

Katsuki would never admit it, but he had missed his friends, and seeing them in animal form did not count as actually interacting with them, seeing them in their usual antics was a breath of fresh air the blonde needed.

He makes his way out of the house and walks straight to the forest, fuming, because he is still mad at Deku and since they are done with the follow-the-story bullshit he can kick the green-haired menace as much as he wants. Katsuki ignores the animals that follow him around, only lightly greeting them, as he has accepted their permanent existence next to him.

“DEKUUUUU!!!” Katsuki bellows as hard as his vocal cords allow. “Where are you? You useless bastard!!!” He screams some more.

After some minutes of yelling, the little fucked decides to answer. “Kacchan?” Izuku says, appearing seemingly from nowhere with a white horse.

“Deku.” Bakugou grins maniacally. “Prepare to die, nerd.” He impulsed himself toward Izuku, whose eyes widened in panic and surprise.

“Wait, wait! Kacchan!” Izuku flailed his hands around, but the blond did not stop, tackling him to the ground. “Uff!” Deku said as they hit the ground and felt the weight of his friend crash into him.

“I’m still incredibly angry at the stunt you pulled off in the last story.” Katsuki explained. “You literally had ONE job, while I slaved around cleaning that crappy house, and you managed to mess it up!” He growled. “So don’t complain too much while I kill you.” The angry straddled Izuku and raised his hand.

“No, wait!” Izuku cried. “I-IthinkIknowhowtogetoutofhere!” He said quickly, making the other stop on his tracks.

He wasn’t actually going to punch Deku, not that the little twerp needed to know that. “What did you say?” Bakugou raised an eyebrow and took his fist away from the other teen’s face.

“I think I know how to get out of here.” Izuku stated.

“Do tell.” Kasuki said, still sitting down on Deku’s lap, which didn’t escape the notice of the green-eyed man, who blushed profusely.

“Let’s stand up first, Kacchan.” Izuku said, trying very hard not to stare at the cleavage that was so close to his face, enhanced by the loose clothing the blonde wore.

Katsuki blustered and stood up, wordlessly offering a hand to Izuku, which he took just as silently since he knew better than to point them out.

They started to walk through the forest. “Why didn’t you do what you were supposed to in the last story?” The taller man asked. “Did you hate kissing me that much?” Katsuki snorted, but he was unsure why an affirmative answer would hurt him so much.

“I-I didn’t- I d-d-don’t! I j-j-just!” Izuku stuttered, unable to explain himself. How was he supposed to tell his longtime crush that one of the reasons he didn’t want to kiss him was that he liked it too much and it hurt knowing it meant nothing? “I just couldn’t do it while you were unconscious!” It wasn’t a lie. “I felt disgusting.” Also, not a lie, kissing Kacchan while he was asleep felt like Izuku was forcing himself on someone that clearly didn’t like him that way.

“You are so stupid.” Katsuki said, somewhat relieved, Deku had said he didn’t hate it. “But it’s whatever, Deku.”

“Right.”

They continued walking until they reached a clearing, where Katsuki sat down on a nearby rock and rested his arms on a bigger one near it, smirking at Izuku. “So you said you know how to get out of here?” He said, thinking the other had just said that to get the other to abstain from hitting him. “It better not be your way of trying to convince me to go along with the story again.”

“I-it’s not.” Izuku said, blushing at how the other man looked and his new idea of a way out of this nightmare. “I was just thinking…”

“Dangerous.” Katsuki interrupted, continuing with his teasing. “Each time you do that we end up in an even more forked up situation than with what we started.” He never stopped smirking.

“Shut up!” Izuku continued to blush. “If you don’t want to hear my idea, that’s fine.” He turned away from his friend's hot smile.

Katsuki laughed. “Sorry nerd, it’s just that your last idea didn’t exactly work.” He said. “Besides, you said that if it didn’t work you would let me do my idea next, that’s just doing the opposite from what the story said.”

Izuku huffed. “How would that even work?” He crossed his arms.

The blonde rolled his eyes. “What is your new idea anyway?”

The shorter teen looked away, his cheeks slightly burning, originally he wasn’t actually going to say what he had been thinking about, he had said it on impulse, even though he knew Kacchan wouldn’t actually hit him.

“Well?” Katsuki insisted. “Aren’t you going to enlighten me with your amazing ideas?” He continued sarcastically.

“I-it’s just…” Izuku breathed, debating telling the other what he was thinking. “Y-you know how the last two stories only ended because we k-k-kissed?”

Bakugou’s eyes widened, immediately catching on to what Deku was trying to say, the worst was it did make sense, the last two stories had ended when they kissed, well. When Katsuki had kissed Izuku since the other hadn’t had the chance either of the times to kiss back.

“M-m-m-maybe i-if we did it again, we could move onto the next story?” Izuku finished explaining.

Katsuki fought a blush. “S-say we do t-t-that, what do we do once we get to the next story?” He asked

“I g-gu-guess we could continue to k-k-k-kiss until there are no more fairy tales?” Izuku said, though he completely expected the idea to be rejected.

“It could...work.” Katsuki admitted with an uncharacteristically quiet, pink dusting his cheeks, which he hid by turning away from Izuku.

There was a deafening silence, so much so he could feel the sparks of tension between them, pushing and pulling simultaneously. Red eyes lock on green, triggering even more the thick air between them as the color of their eyes shone even brighter with indescribable emotions.

“...Good, cool, cool, cool, cool.” Izuku muttered, unsure of what to do next, does he get closer to the other teen, or should he wait for the blond to initiate. “Should we...try it now?”

“Yeal,” Katsuki said breathlessly. “I mean, the faster we do this the sooner we’ll know if it works, right?” He tentatively stepped forward, not one to be a coward. “Or did you lie and you actually hate kissing me?” He teased as he was unsure of what to do with himself.

“No!” Deku replied too fast, blushing instantly. “I mean, no, it wasn’t bad, I guess.” He tried to be nonchalant. “I was just making sure you were ready.” He followed the knee-jerking response he had to Kacchan of accepting every challenge the blond implied.

Slowly they got closer.

Unlike last time, they weren’t rushed, didn’t feel the frustration to be done with the story as they had previously, this time they were obligated to look into each other and watch as luscious plump lips closed the heated distance between them.

Izuku couldn’t breathe, mesmerized by the sight in front of him and the warm breath that heated further his cheeks and tickled his nose.

Their lips met softly, making a complete contrast to their previous kisses, Katsuki lightly touched Izuku’s cheek with his hand, and Deku couldn’t help the need to place his hands on the blond’s hips. The kiss seemed to short, only serving to make Izuku crave more.

“...So...it didn’t work.” Katsuki said, not yet removing his hand.

“Y-Yeah.” Izuku mumbled back, also not taking his hands away.

Katsuki seemed to react first, slightly jumping away from Deku. “I-I think I need to go back to the three idiots cabin.”

Izuku jumps away too, as soon as his brain is able to process what had happened to a passable degree. “Oh, yeah! Of course! See you later, K-Kacchan!”

The blond turns away and starts walking away before stopping suddenly. “By the way, you can kiss me whenever.”

Izuku’s mouth snapped shut, the redness from his cheeks that just barely had seemed to calm down returned in full force.

“I-I mean! If it’s to get out of the story.” Bakugou amends, uncharacteristically embarrassed.

Deku almost is unable to contain the disappointment that spreads through him. “Of course…”

Katsuki berated himself all the way back to the house, what even was that back there with Deku? Why was he, Lord Explosion Murder, who is never embarrassed stuttering and tripping over his words? Not to mention the kiss, he definitely enjoyed it more than he should, prolonged it more than he should have.

Who would have known Deku was such a good kisser? It had to be that, right? That was the only possible reason he liked the kiss so much.

He needed to get out of his head, and thankfully taking care of his extras was exactly what could do so.

“There he is!” Said Kaminari, glad to see him, as Kirishima and Ashido turned to look at him too.

“Happy Birthday, bro!” Kirishima said, shoving a cake onto his face, while Mina presented him with a beautifully crafted outfit; a blue dress-inspired shirt with a wide cleavage with same-colored pants and a darker shade cape.

Bakugou smiled despite himself, it wasn’t anywhere near his birthday, though the praise of his (thankfully human-looking) friends was certainly but secretly appreciated. “How did you idiots even manage to make this cake and not set the house on fire?”

“Uhhhh…about that.” Denki looked at his friends less than subtly, at which they returned the unease with equally inconspicuous looks. “We have something very important to tell you.”

“Oh, yeah.” Kirishima confirmed.

“You should sit for this honey,” Mina said, suddenly serious.

The blond teen rolled his eyes, honestly, he should have started to do whatever the fuck he wanted long ago, but he strangely decided to humor his friends, NOT because he liked them and missed them, not at all, Katsuki was just in a generous mood.

“We,” Kirishima started and pointed to himself and the other two extras. “Are fairies, we were tasked by the king to take care of you until you turned 16, due to a sleeping curse that is to end today.”

Katsuki acted shocked just because he could. “Oh, word?”

“Now you need to get ready sweetie, you are going to marry a prince and we have to prepare.” Mina said, grabbing the newly made outfit with the intention of dressing Bakugou.

“Yes, yes, prince Izuku this, prince Izuku that.” Katsuki rolled his eyes at the thought of the nerd.

The three fairies shared a confused look. “Who is Izuku?” Kaminari asked.

“We were talking about Prince Philip.” Said Kirishima.

“WHat?” Katsuki yelled. “Who on Earth is that? I’m not marrying some random extra!” He protested.

“Why not?” Mina asked.

“There’s already someone I…” Katsuki paused, realizing what he was just about to say. “I would rather marry someone I know rather than some dude I just met…”

“You met someone?” Kirishima asked, surprised.

“NO, yes, maybe.” Katsuki stuttered. “In the forest, there was this guy, a total dumb nerd, but I guess he is torelable enough, kind of funny, and stubborn, anyways, he is definitely better than some Prince Philip.”

Ashido looks at him with something like sorrow. “Sorry hun, you’ve been betrothed to him since you were born, you have to marry him or there will literally be a war”

While Katsuki was well aware he was trying to purposefully change the story, he did not want to deal with a war at the moment. It never occurred to him that the prince might not be Izuku, it never seemed like a possibility, and he couldn’t quite understand why it was so upsetting.

He wondered who the prince would end up being.

۵⚜-The Beauty and the Deku-⚜۵

Izuku went back to the castle he had woken up in, finding out All Might was once again his father for the tale, which he was in part very happy about, but at the same time sad he didn’t exactly count on the time to enjoy.

“Al- Dad!” Deku said once he saw the oddly dressed Toshinori.

“Oh, my boy!” All Might said. “Where have you been all morning? We have so much to prepare for your wedding to the prince.”

“I’m sorry I’m late, but I’m just...uhm...exited?” Izuku said. “I mean, at first I wasn’t sure, but now I’m glad I’m marrying him.”

“My boy Izuku,” All Might smiled. “I’m so glad you have come around, I knew prince Aurelio would be a good match for you.”

“Wait, who?!” Izuku’s eyes widened.

“Prince Aurelio, the one you have been betrothed to since you were children.” All Might raised an eyebrow.

“No no no, I’m going to marry prince Katsuki!” the young man said, unnerved by the newfound information.

Toshinori paused for a moment. “There is no prince on this side of the world named Katsuki.” He said slowly, looking at increasingly more nerve-wracked Izuku with worry.

That’s right, Kacchan and him being both the main leads in every story was never a hard-cold fact. That thought didn’t help Izuku at all, they had just started to figure things out when again there were new issues to deal with?! He had to marry some random prince he didn’t know, and for what? Kacchan wasn’t even following the story currently, which right about now sounded very appealing to Izuku who while was more than ok kissing his childhood friend definitely did not feel the same way about some prince who was probably way older than he was.

He needed to speak with Kacchan.

“Look, you don’t have to marry prince Aurelio if you have someone you actually love.” All Might assured, patting the back of his panicked son in a loving manner. “I’ll just have to talk to the king and everything will be alright.”

Izuku bit his lip, he had been an advocate for following the story so far, but now he had his doubts. “I-I already have someone I want to marry, and it’s not prince Aurelio.”

“Alright, my boy.” All Might smiled, but then he sighed. “Your mother won’t be happy, you know? She is good friends with the queen.”

“My mom?” Izuku muttered, missing her dearly. “You mean my mom Inko?” He said making sure he was talking about her and not some woman who was supposed to be his mother in the story.

“Who else?” All might said, besotted with the mention of the green-haired woman.

Huh. Izuku thought this was the second time All Might and Inko were his parents and apparently married, happily. He was aware this world took real elements from his reality, which made him wonder if this relationship between his mom and his mentor held some truth to it.

“Who is this Katsuki you want to marry anyway?” Toshinori asked, curious as to who had captured his son’s heart.

“Oh, about that.” Izuku remembered his intention to go look for Kacchan in order to talk about the current situation. “I have to go find him, I mean, I have to introduce you to him.”

All Might laughed and side hugged Izuku in a way that mitigated some of the unease the green-haired teen had been feeling for a while. Izuku found himself very happy to see All Might so carefree, apparently devoid of any injury and restored to his old self. “All right, you go do that, I’ll talk the king out of a war, although now that I think about it, it might be the queen who I will have to talk to.”

“See you later All M- dad!” Izuku said, the taller man had looked hurt when Izuku apparently called him by the nickname All Might had gained in a war, instead of calling him dad, so Izuku had caved and called the man so only because he knew that it wasn’t the real Toshinori.

Deku mounted his horse and started to go on his way to the cabin Katsuki had mention waking up, they needed to talk.

۵⚜-The Beauty and the Deku-⚜۵

The castle was bigger than the one Katsuki had seen in Cinderella and Snow White, the atmosphere also looked brighter. As soon as he figured he was in Sleeping Beauty Katsuki had been determined to just not fall asleep, after biting the apple Shigaraki had given him in the last story he had had weird dreams he remembered nothing about. Besides, he had always wondered why Aurora went and got herself prickled with the fucking spinning wheel.

Anyway, that was not going to him, he strengthened his resolve as he entered the castle, rolling his eyes as he was told that his parents in this story wanted to see him just after his wedding to, ugh, Prince Philip.

“So they don’t see me for 16 years and the first time they want to marry me off to some weirdo, that’s nice.” He said sarcastically.

“People say he is very handsome, you know.” Kaminari said, now in what Katsuki supposed was his fairy outfit.

“Who cares if the sun shines out of his ass.” Cool, ass itself was not a swear word, praise the gods. “I don’t want to marry him, and I’ll be such a jerk he won’t either.”

“Wow, you really must be in love with the guy you met in the forest.” Mina commented in awe, in a pretty pink outfit.

Katsuki spluttered, turning red. “I DO NOT LIKE DEKU!!” He screeched. “H-he is a lame nerd, we could never be together.” He turned to look outside the window. He and Izuku were friends, now that Katsuki had gotten his head out of his ass and stopped having his superiority complex triggered by his childhood friend, but years of miscommunication and misguided aggression could be easily ignored.

Ashido, Kirishima, and Kaminari guided him to his room and fixed him up in a blue outfit they had made for him, although Mina and Eijiro still argued over the color.

“We’ll be right back!” Kirishima said as he and the other two went out to do who knows what.

Katsuki sighed and looked at his reflection, he didn’t know why on earth he was still entertaining this stupidity his friends had told him to, he had said he would fuck shit up in this story because he was tired of going along with it, why exactly had he been doing exactly the opposite? Either way, there was no way he was going to ever marry some random dude, even if it was what got him out of here, he and Deku would figure out another way.

Suddenly he felt like he was underwater, he couldn’t think or feel.

He was an outsider of his own body as he stood up, slowly walking in an unknown direction through the swirling stairs and hallways. His senses were asleep and his mind seemed submerged in a thick substance that forbade him from controlling himself.

Abruptly he was vaguely aware of the door in front of him and as Katsuki opened it he was overwhelmed by green, but not the calm deep forest green he had come to like through the years, but a toxic acidic green burning his eyes with its power, although he felt nothing but nausea.

There was no pain as his finger touched the sharp end of the needle, just the acid spreading through his body as his eyes rolled to the back of his head and he fell unconscious.

۵⚜-The Beauty and the Deku-⚜۵

It had happened again, and really Katsuki should have expected it. Every Time he's out there doing god’s work and saving people, the world decides to fuck him over, he is actually fine with it, he has come to expect it. Katsuki is cursed and he knows it, the problem is that Deku is fucking cursed too, even more than he is for some goddam reason, and one would think bad luck plus bad luck would cancel each other out because that is the logical thing, right? Well, logic flies out when it concerns Katsuki and Izuku.

It is his bad karma making him repent, Katsuki recons.

At first, Katsuki would be offended Aizawa-sensei called him problem child #2, but honestly now with all the bullshit Katsuki goes through every single time he inexplicably sees himself end up involved in some villain’s conspiracy he can’t even deny it.

Which all of this is a roundabout way to say he and Deku got themselves in another fight with older more experienced villains when they are barely in their third year of high school.

They were supposed to do a simple patrol, it was supposed to be easy, but of course, Deku being Deku he had snooped around the agency and recalled the face of some suspected criminal who just happened to walk past them.

“I swear Kacchan, I saw him on the file Hawks was looking at when he welcomed us,” Deku insisted. “We need to follow him.”

“Ok, first of all you can’t call me that fucking kiddie name when we are in costume,” Katsuki scolded, though Izuku at least had the decency to look sorry. “Second, Aizawa specifically told us to only report suspicious activity and not to engage.”

“K- uh, Dynamyght, Aizawa-sensei said that to everybody.”

Katsuki looked at him with a blunt expression. “He said and I quote ‘I swear to god if you get in trouble I’ll expell you, problem children’ while looking at us.”

“Yeah, ok, but Kacchan he’s going to get away.” Izuku said, as they inconspicuously followed the presumed villain as they had yet to come to a decision. “Do you know what he is suspected of doing? They think he is the one that collects children and gives them to All for One!”

The blonde hesitated. “Fine, we’ll call back up.” The other boy frowned, knowing how long backup might take, moreover when it was not even a confirmed sighting.

“Think of the children!” Deku hissed, determined. “Besides, this will look amazing on our record, and may even help us climb ranks when we graduate!”

Dynamyght was nothing if not ambitious, also the children. “God damn it stupid Deku!” He hissed back. “This better not end in a disaster.”

Deku beamed and Katsuki scowled, as was his trained response to that disarming smile.

They carefully followed the suspect; tall with, black hair, yellow eyes, and a weird tattoo on his left eye. Silence trailed them too, even with the considerable amount of people on the street. The presumed villain turns the corner to an alley, where Katsuki and Deku follow several seconds later.

“Shouldn't have followed, mini heroes.” The man said, without even turning around.

Katsuki is about to tell him to shut the fuck up and fight when a hand appears behind him and covers his mouth and nose with a handkerchief. He struggles and is vaguely aware Deku is in a similar situation. Strength escapes the blonde and staying awake is harder as seconds pass by, his head swims and all he can do is muster his best glare as he topples to the ground.

“There’s a quirk I’ve been dying to try.” The man, who looks to be about thirty, smirks.

Katsuki blacks out.

He wakes up tied up and unable to use his quirk, whether it is because of the remnants of the chloroform or because of anti-quirk restraints is unclear. He looks around dazedly, he spots Deku slouched on the floor, no doubt still knocked out and a little girl in the fetal position sobbing in one corner of the dirty basement they were trapped in.

“Hey, you ok, kid?” Katsuki calls and hopes his speech is not too slurred.

The girl sobbed harder. He groaned lowly in frustration and slowly with the little strength he had recovered since he woke up he struggles his way to the small kid, about seven years old.

“We’re gonna get you out of here, you know.” Bakugou had never been good with comforting people, but he tried. “Me and him are actually heroes in training.”

“...Really?” The little girl lifted up her tear-stained face, she had light purple shoulder-length hair and blazing orange eyes.

“Yes really.” He assures her. “Even if we can’t get you out, there will be people looking for us, so don’t give those assholes what they want and keep strong.”

A determined look courses through the girl's face. “Allright, mister hero!”

“Call me Dynamight.” Katsuki corrects as gently as he can.

“My name is Lily.” She says he notices she has a thick book she clutches with all her might.

“Nice to meet you, or whatever.” The book bothers him, why would kidnappers ever let the kid keep anything? “What do you have there, Lily?”

“Oh, this is my favorite book! My mom always reads it to me before sleeping.” She smiles slightly, which Katsuki is glad to see, as this must be a stressful situation for a kid like her. “It’s got all my favorite fairy tales from the movies!”

Katsuki smiles lightly at her. “That is amazing, kid.”

A loud groan from the floor diverted their attention.

Deku lifted his head from the floor, though his tied hands made it difficult to rise from the ground. “K-Kacchan…” He whined.

“Finally up, you piece of sh-trash.” Katsuki amended.

“Where are we?” Izuku asked, clearly still fighting the effects of the drug the villains used to put them unconscious.

“Fu- Hell if I know.”

Deku turned to Lily. “Hi sweety, what is your name?”

She introduced herself timidly and Deku did the same, offering her a smile. Katsuki was glad the other boy had awakened, as he was better at dealing with people than the blonde was, though he still made one or two comments to the conversation they maintained, the little girl coaxing the answers out of him.

The relative pleasantness of the conversation disappeared when the basement’s door opened, revealing the man from earlier, along with his henchmen.

“Take them upstairs.” The black-haired man said.

“Yes, boss.” His henchmen replied in unison, bypassing their leader and lifting up the two teenagers and the girl.

“LET ME GO YOU FUCKERS, LET’S FIGHT LIKE REAL MEN!” Katsuki struggled as hard as he could, and Deku tried to do the same.

I was ultimately useless, and they were dropped in the ground of the upper floor, which was still very much disgusting. They sat the girl on a chair and the leader approached her, with the fairy tale book in his hands, he dropped it carelessly on the floor, where it landed open.

“Show us what you can do.” He smirked at the girl and the heroes in training.

Katsuki growled and Deku glared, Lily predictably was sobbing.

“I don’t have time to waste, little girl.” The leader growled when Lily didn’t immediately use her quirk, and he yanked the poor girl's hair, making Izuku and Katsuki trash harder on their binds. “If you don’t want to die, use your quirk on those two useless heroes.”

The girl cried harder, shaking her head. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”, she said as she raised her hands, probably to use her quirk.

Izuku shook his head, smiling sadly at the girl. “It’s not your fault Lily, the pro heroes will save us soon enough.”

Katsuki gave a short nod in agreement, if anyone was at fault it was these stupid asshole villains.

The girl’s eyes and hands glowed a reddish-orange that started to permeate the room to the point Katsuki had to close his eyes at the strong light as darkness overtakes him. He promptly loses consciousness.

۵⚜-The Beauty and the Deku-⚜۵

Izuku gets to the cabin a few hours later, although it seems no one answers when he knocks on the door. He opens it, just to be sure Kacchan is not there and to have a clue as to where he might have gone. He enters with tentative steps into the darkness of the place, where a sinister laugh greets him.

Hundreds of minions attack him before he can even defend himself as they tie him up and gag him, holding him in place in front of a black figure.

It looks like Kurogiri is the Maleficent in this story, which Izuku guesses is fitting enough, although he notes the usual purpleness of the villain has turned to a sour green.

“I set a trap for a peasant and look here, I caught a prince.” He laughs when Izuku glares at him as the gag and ties prevent anything else.

Izuku is dragged to Kurogiri’s run-down castle, they put him in a cell and shackle his hands and feet. If he had his quirk he could have easily broken the bounds, but not having it does not stop him from struggling against the iron chains.

The green-haired prince sighs and throws himself at the bench, wondering how Katsuki is.

However there is not enough time to lament his situation, as out of nowhere fairy sized Kirishima, Ashido, and Kaminari appear.

“Prince Philip!” Kirishima said as he starts shooting red magic off his wand into breaking the shackles that keep him bound.

“Who?” Izuku said, confused. “My name is Izuku.” He said.

The three fairies gasp. “You are the one prince Aurelio met in the forest.”

“No no, I have never met Aurelio.” Izuku reassured them. “But never mind that, where is Kac-Katsuki?”

Kaminari laughed as he broke the lock of the door. “Katsuki is Aurelio, we had to change his name so he wouldn’t get recognized.”

“Oh.” Izuku said, remembering princess Aurora had gone by Rose the first part of the movie.

Ashido spoke then, interrupting his thoughts. “Guys, we don’t have the time for this, we need to go!” She rushed them.

Izuku immediately straightened up, only half hearing Kirishima’s explanation as he was given a shield and a sword. They speed out the room, not without alerting Kurogiri’s ugly crow, which immediately started squawking in alert. The stairs were full of minions throwing all types of weapons at Izuku, but he skillfully deflected them and somehow they were able to make it out of the castle where the incessant attacks continued as Izuku tried to get to his horse in order to escape.

Rocks and arrows rained from the sky, but thankfully Kirishima, Ashido, and Kaminari turned them into bubbles and flowers with magic, which Izuku thought was pretty neat.

The dashing prince managed to get atop his horse and raced to the castle and with outstanding strength was able to cut all the spiky vines that barricaded the place Katsuki was trapped in asleep.

Upon cutting his way through the vines, Kurogiri teleports in front of him, furious. Then he turns into a dragon, at which Izuku looks for a more open area where he won’t be burnt to flames, swinging his sword at the reptile as it shoots green fire out his mouth.

In the process he somehow manages to break one of his left-hand fingers and lose his shield, he hissed in pain as he stared down the abyss. The dragon seemingly laughs, thinking they have won, but the three fairies hover over Izuku, overloading the sword with so much magic it shines. In a last-ditch effort to win, Izuku throws the sword with all his remaining strength and lets out a sigh of relief when it pierces right through the dragon’s heart.

Kurogiri stumbled into the abyss, where Izuku once the threat has been eliminated does not even bother looking back as he sprints toward the castle, bypassing the sleeping peasants, the guards, and even All Might and Kacchan’s parents, who appear just as unconscious as the rest.

Finally, he arrives at Katsuki’s room, where the blonde lies, his face slack with sleep, unmoving but still beautiful.

Izuku breathes in, Katsuki had given him permission to kiss him, even if it only was to get out of a story.

He leaned in and kissed his childhood friend, whose lips were as soft as they had been earlier in the day.

Katsuki’s red eyes slowly opened, blinking away the sleep. “You idiot.” He said, because what else would the explosive boy say? “You were Prince Philip?”

Izuku laughed. “I guess.”

He was about to tell the other teen they needed to go downstairs to greet their parents, but the world started to turn white again, as it did every time a new story was about to start.

Izuku braced himself.

#izuku x bakugo #katsuki x izuku #bakudeku #decchan #katsudeku #bkdk fic #bakudeku au #bakugo x deku #bakudeku fan fiction #bakudeku art #the beauty and the deku